#and recently i kinda split things up into a ''season 1'' & ''season 2''

[labyrinthofcrystals]

friends decided we were gonna be doing powerpoints during our con weekend so im making one for tlim and.

hm yeah. i think i should be put down

[loveharlow]

SEVEN [SEASON 2] - 002 (PART 2)

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[5.9k] Trying to lay-low in Kildare doesn't go over too well and just when things were looking up, it all comes crumbling down.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death, gun violence, mild animal cruelty, general angst

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ if you didn't wanna report my blog from part 1, you're gonna want too after this also im posting this NOW because of the whole explicit blog situation🙄 i think we all deserve a little reward. THIS SONG IS ☺️🥹😖😫 "DID YOUUUUU TAAAAKE MY LOVVE AWAYY FROM MEEEEEE?"

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

IT TOOK ALMOST ALL NIGHT TO SAIL BACK TO KILDARE, the sun just rising once again when the six of you arrived at the edge of The Marsh at the crack of dawn. You were tired and starving, the guys and girls splitting off into two separate groups to go look for food.

You, Kie, and Sarah had found some watermelons just as the sun’s heat started to break through the Kildare clouds. You and Sarah were sitting in the grass while Kie took up the space on a metal bench, each of you munching on your respective melons, fingers stained pink.

Kiara was quick to urge Sarah to catch her up on what happened, the blonde girl spilling every detail about what happened from the moment John B and her disappeared.

“The boat tipped and I honestly thought that was it, I thought that was the end. Next thing I know, we’re waking up on a boat headed to The Bahamas…” She recounted. She told you everything, from finding the gold again at Ward’s vacation home to getting shot by Rafe, to…

“I’m sorry, you got married?” Kiara exclaimed, her eyes wide as her hand paused from where it was digging into the fruit. Sarah just had a sheepish smile on her face, chewing as she nodded.

“It’s not exactly legal, but…” She trailed off, throwing a chunk of the melon into her mouth and looking at both of you. “Yeah, we did.” She admitted, smiling and chuckling in Kie’s direction before she seemed to conjure up another thought. “And *gulp* Am I crazy, or is there something going on between you and Pope?” She spoke, mouth full of watermelon.

Kiara smiled and shrugged, avoiding eye contact with the Cameron girl. “Maybe...” She said, squinting her eyes as she looked out in front of her. “I’ve come to a couple of…realizations, recently, I guess.” She said under her breath, eyes peering at you for the shortest of moments, so swiftly that Sarah didn’t catch it and you barely did yourself.

“That’s not a no.” Sarah egged on, still eating. The three of you fell into silence for a few passing moments, the only sounds being the birds flying by and the chewing of fruit before Sarah spoke up once more, this time her questions aimed at you. “You okay? You’ve been kinda quiet.” She asked, her wide eyes peering at you.

You just shrugged, looking down at your lap as you spoke. “‘M fine. It’s all just a little surreal, y’know? Up until a couple of hours ago, I really thought you and John B were dead.” You said, building the courage to meet her eyes. “It’s honestly the biggest blessing that you guys aren’t but... a lot happened while you two were away. That’s all.” You assured her, sending her a tight-lipped smile and returning to eating.

“...It was really hard to find a a way to contact you guys. And we didn’t want to risk someone tipping off my dad or the police just yet. It’s gonna be a shit show when we get back to the island, that’s for sure.” Sarah scoffed, raking her fingers through her hair.

“...Sarah?” You piped up, the girl humming response. “It’s good to have you back.”

She smiled happily in response, her teeth showing as her cheeks reddened. “It’s good to be back.”

JOHN B DOCKED THE DRUTHERS TOO AT THE CHATEAU WITH LITTLE HESITATION, A familiar bundle of golden fur running towards him and jumping on him the second he was off the boat. 

“Woah, hey, hey…” He cooed, petting Marley softly as she pawed at his thighs and torso.

“Sorry about that,” You said, shielding your eyes from the sun. “We’ve been crashin’ here since…” You trailed off, shrugging as John B looked up at The Chateau, jutting his bottom lip out and shrugging one shoulder.

“The place looks great, actually.” He said, directing his gaze to the grass, looking side to side. “The weeds are gone and there aren’t any beer cans in the grass.” He laughed out.

“That would be courtesy of me.” JJ bowed dramatically. “Mowed the lawn and threw in a little extra service.” John B rolled his eyes playfully and walked towards the entrance of the home, the five of you following behind him. 

“Not to bring the mood down or anything but I’m not exactly looking forward to a check-in at home…” Kiara announced, walking at the very back of the group. “My parents have probably already arranged my funeral.”

“Same. I predict unpleasantries at the Heyward household after I left the truck in Charleston.” Pope cringed at the thought, holding the straps of his backpack. 

“...No one knows we’re here, right?” JJ threw out, deep in thought judging from the look on his face. “And you two-” He pointed at Kiara and Pope. “-aren’t gonna get in anymore trouble for showing up twelve hours later. Am I right or am I right?”

“You’re not wrong…” Pope seemed to contemplate.

“So that means we have twelve hours to do whatever we want.” JJ smiled, clapping his hands together. “A little pogue fellowship, how does that sound? Let the shit hit the fan tomorrow.”

“The cops are looking for us. It just seems really stupid…” Sarah reminded, a look of worry on her features.

“Sarah Cameron,” JJ approached the girl sitting on the rail of The Chateau stairs. “You’ve heard of my philosophy, right?”

“No.”

“Stupid things have good outcomes all the time.” JJ spoke as you and John B mocked him, sending a smile in each other’s direction as you tried not to laugh. The blonde boy turned around, clapping his hands. “Who’s with me? Let’s go get some beer!”

KIARA HAD MANAGED TO STEAL SOME BEERS FROM THE WRECK, SEEMINGLY WITHOUT BEING NOTICED. By the time Sarah and JB had showered and JJ and Pope set up the lights and hot-tub, the sun had fallen again. The pit in your stomach had started to settle, allowing you to actually enjoy the fact that your friends were alive and well and back where they belonged. Although other events were still swirling in your mind and dampening your mood, you wouldn’t let it show.

The six of you crowded the hot-tub, shotgunning beers as music played faintly from a speaker plugged in near the porch. JJ and John B had some impromptu dance battle while Pope started freestyling out of nowhere, the remaining three of you watching it all like a comedy show from the comfort of the hot tub.

At some point , JJ rolled a joint that made it’s way through the group in record time. You currently had the object clutched between your fingers, laying on your back in the grass near the oak tree with Marley next to you as JJ and Pope wrestled in the grass. 

“Single-leg sweep!” John B cheered, watching Pope pin JJ to the ground — JB, Sarah, and Kie sitting and watching around a bonfire. 

Pope got up triumphantly, hands in the air as JJ got up and dusted himself off. He and JJ shook hands with lazy smiles on their faces before Pope snatched up his beach towel and turned around in the direction of The Marsh. “I’m done!” He called over his shoulder. “I’m outta here…”

“You want a round two?” JJ called in his direction, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Pope chuckled and waved him off without a glance back. “Yeah, I think I’ll take my losses.” The group’s attention was stolen by Kiara who grabbed her shirt from the lawn chair she was on, getting up and following Pope. 

You just scoffed and took another hit of your joint, watching from a few feet away as Sarah’s jaw dropped while John B and JJ cheered. “Really?” Sarah exclaimed. 

“Way to be discreet!” JJ called after the two.

“I leave and this is what happens.” John B sighed in mock disappointment, slapping his hands against his knees as he rose from his seat. “Your boy’s out.” He shook the red cup in his hand. “Beer time.” He told the two blondes before walking in your direction, your splayed figure going unnoticed in the dark of night as JB reached into the cooler to grab a fresh beer, his eyes landing on the art piece the four of you had engraved into the tree.

You watched as he slowly paused, his eyes glossing over as the boy attempted to suppress his emotions. 

“You better cry.” You spoke up, speech mildly slurred from your tipsiness. “It took me two hours to carve your long ass name into that...big ass tree.” John B looked around startled for a moment before looking at down at you laid out in the grass like a snow angel. You smiled and waved lazily at your friend.

He rolled his eyes and laughed, cracking open the canned drink in his hand. “You scared the shit out of me, little weirdo.” He said, taking a small sip. “I forget you’re a lightweight. You need a water or somethin’?”

You simply pursed your lips and waved him off. “Pfft. I am fine. And I’ll have you know I am not drunk or high, just…thinking.” The Routledge boy cocked an eyebrow at you, JJ and Sarah’s mindless banter filling the silence. “I’m serious!” You chuckled out. “I’m not, I swear. I just needed some time to think for a little bit…”

“About?”

“...Are you kidding?” You asked incredulously, lifting yourself up to lean on one arm. “John B, you came back from the dead. And believe me, I am so glad that you and Sarah are back but I’m scared for you guys. Sooner or later, someone is gonna find out you guys are back on the island and when they do?…”

He simply nodded. “That's fair." He sighed. "We tried to get through to you guys for weeks before we were able to send that message.” You hummed in response before yawning. “And even though you haven’t said it yet, I missed you too.” He winked at you.

You flipped the boy off and plopped back down into the grass as the footsteps of someone else appeared.

“What’s happenin’ over here?” He asked cheerfully, slapping a hand on John B’s shoulder. He met your eyes but you looked away. You still didn’t want to talk to him. 

John B looked between the two of you skeptically before letting whatever thought he had go, pointing at the tree in front of him. “This cute little art project.” He told the blonde, referring once more to the memorial carving. “Killed the tree, though.”

JJ laughed, bowing his head down. “Probably, yeah…” He said, sniffing before looking at JB. “I fuckin’ missed you, man.” He said seriously, pulling John B into a tight hug. They buried their heads into each other’s shoulder, embracing one another as tight as possible.

“Kind of lonely over here!” Sarah called out, the two boys releasing one another as she waved the three of you over. The slapped each other on the shoulder and began walking back over to the bonfire, you getting up and whistling for Marley to do the same, the golden retriever standing up slowly and shaking herself off before following you. 

“Aww, look.” The blonde girl cooed from her place on a log, staring ahead as the three of you followed her gaze to find Kie and Pope sailing away on the HMS Pogue. 

“There he goes.” JJ cheered, sending a thumbs up to the couple on the boat. “He jacked your boat, dude.” He said to John B.

“Pope’s poking on the Pogue.” He replied with little emotion, staring out like he couldn’t believe it while Sarah wolf-whistled in their direction. Through her cheering and whistling, you thought you heard something in the distance, prompting you to turn around with a look of confusion etched across your face.

“Hold on,” You spoke up, the remaining pogues attention turning to you. “Did any of you hear that?”

“The chickens?” JJ threw out a possible solution, you shook your head.

“No, I heard something. Like a car door shutting…” You said confidently, eyes trained on the trees in front of you trying to see through them.

After a few moments of squinting, you managed to make out two figures creeping through the bushes and if you weren’t mistaken, they were both armed. “...There’s people in the woods. They have guns.” You said, a hard expression settling on your face as you quickly took hold of Marley’s collar.

“Wha- are you sure?” Sarah asked panicked, standing up from the log she was perched on and edging closer to John B.

“Yes, I’m sure.” You replied quickly. “Hide. Hide somewhere, anywhere but in the house.” You instructed, the three of them just staring blankly at one another. You looked at them stupidly, snapping your fingers to gain their attention. “Hello? Earth to Powerpuff Girls? Unless your wanna play bullet-tag with the strangers in the woods, I suggest you hide!” You whisper-shouted, guiding Marley into the chicken coop by her collar as your three friends seemed to silently decide on hiding in the large oak tree, not before John B put out the bonfire and followed JJ and Sarah who were scattering and climbing up the trunk of the tree one by one.

There was more than enough space for you to hide Marley in the coop, pushing her inside as quietly as possible as she started to whine lowly. You brought a finger to your lips, shushing the animal as you gently pet the top of her head. “It’s okay.” You assured, pushing her a little further in as the sound of leaves ruffling got closer. “Just sit and stay. Okay?” You instructed as you stood up and made a b-line for the tree, climbing up as quickly and quietly as possible, taking the hand that was offered to you and planting yourself on top of one of the thick branches.

Through the leaves and branches, you saw the two figures emerge into the lights of the backyard. 

It was no one other than Rafe and Barry.

There was no way they found out about Sarah and John B that fast.

Barry crept up the side steps to the front door, gun held in front of him as Rafe wandered through the backyard, right under your noses. He stopped in front of the freshly blown out bonfire as Barry threw open the door to The Chateau, creeping inside. 

“Where the hell are you?...” Rafe asked mainly to himself, eyes wandering from the smoking wooden planks. Just then, the sound of glass breaking came from inside the house, followed by the sound of Barry groaning in frustration just before the man in question came barrelling out of The Chateau. 

“Ain’t shit in there!” He shouted, jogging down the small staircase. 

“Nothing?” Rafe asked, his tone calm in contrast to the drug dealer’s.

“No, nothing, Rafe.” Barry spat. It seemed as if Barry’s frustration began to rub off on the Cameron boy.

“They were obviously just here based off the smoke, man.” Rafe reprimanded, voice raising slightly as he threw a hand out in the direction of the smoking pit. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Barry ignored him. “Great observation, Boy Scout.”

“They gotta be around here somewhere...” Rafe reminded, Barry rolling his eyes and began kicking things around in the yard as Rafe turned around, staring viciously at the length of the tree. 

“P.4.L.” Barry mocked the words carved into the wood, Rafe looking back and laughing with the man, the gun in his hand pointed directly at the carving. 

“Well, shit…” The Cameron boy chuckled breathily.

“So, your sister’s a ‘Pogue For Life’ now, huh?” Barry taunted, watching as the lazy smile on Rafe’s face dropped as he looked back at the tree. His eyes started twitching as he gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his nostrils flaring out too. You were no stranger to that look on his face — he was losing it…

“...Shit!” He hollered like a madman, the loud reverberation of his voice causing you and Sarah to flinch violently. Even Barry flinched behind the boy. Within seconds, Rafe had cocked the gun back and fired off several shots, the four of you ducking behind the branches as bullets flew. Barry, who tried to take the gun from his hand, ended up forcing the guns aim upwards, the four of you just narrowly missing being shot. 

“Rafe, chill!” Barry scolded, snatching the gun from the boy’s hands. “You gon' get our asses busted!” 

The silence that occurred after Barry’s warning was what allowed the duo to hear a faint whine coming from somewhere in the yard. Your hands clawed at the wood of the tree, your nails splintering under the force.

You prayed they would ignore it. That they would leave her alone.

But you knew that wasn’t going to happen the second Rafe rotated his whole body in the direction of the chicken coop, his face twisting as he walked towards it. Bending down in front of the small opening, he scoffed, running a hand down his face.

“Would you look at that?” He laughed, eyeing Barry before looking inside of the coop once more. The whining never stopped. “They left the damn dog.” He told him, voice raspy. He snapped his fingers and whistled, trying to get Marley to obey. “C’mere girl.” He tried, but she wouldn’t budge.

“The fuck…just leave it, man. What the hell you gon do with a dog?” Barry tried, annoyed at this point.

For what it was worth, your dog had a very good judgment of character. But you guessed that trait didn’t make Rafe too happy. It was like something in him snapped, shooting a hand out and grabbing Marley by the collar, dragging her out the pen when she wouldn’t listen.

She whined and barked, trying her best to resist his pull as her paws slid across the dirt. 

“No, no, no…” You muttered under your breath, moving to climb down the tree when a forceful hand wrapped itself around your arm, your eyes meeting JJ’s. “Let go. What are you-”

“You can’t go down there, are you crazy. He will hurt you.” JJ told you seriously, his eyebrows setting into a straight line. 

“The hell I can’t.” You spat back, trying to wiggle your arm out his grip to no avail. “If I don't go down there, he’s gonna hurt her.” You told the blonde in hushed tone. You hated how shaky and sad your voice sounded.

“We’ll get her back.” He told you, his grip tightening lightly in reassurance. “I promise you.” You shook your head at his words, swallowing harshly as your teary gaze went back to where Rafe was manhandling Marley. She wouldn’t stop crying out and it broke your heart.

“Jesus, you gon have to get a muzzle for that bitch.” Barry groaned. “And what you gon do when daddy asks where the mutt came from, huh, Country Club? ‘Cause you already know Snoozie’s gonna be looking up and down the island for her, missin’ posters ‘n shit gon be up before you make it back to Figure Eight.”

Rafe just licked his lips, positioned slightly bent down to keep a good grip on your dog. “Trust me, she knows where she is. They’re here, I know that for a fact.” He told Barry, his eyes wandering the seemingly empty yard. “You want your dog back?!” He shouted out into the empty yard space. “Looks like you're gonna have to put on your big girl pants and come and get her!”

That was the last thing you all heard before the two men were leaving, dragging a hysterical Marley behind them. Most dogs would bite when threatened. But Marley wasn’t a violent dog. That was one of the many things you loved about her. But in this moment you hated it.

BY THE TIME KIARA AND POPE HAD RETURNED WITH THE BOAT THE FOUR OF YOU NEEDED TO LEAVE, THE SUN HAD RISEN SIGNALING A NEW DAY. You were all silently petrified and hadn’t said more than five words in the last, what you guessed was, six hours or so. JJ perked up when he spotted his two friends in the small boat, slinging his backpack up on his shoulder and heading towards the two as the remaining three of you followed silently.

“Yo, don’t tie up yet!” He called out, skipping down the pier just as Pope was about to tie up the boat.

“What?” Kiara replied back, squinting her eyes from the sun.

“We’re dippin'.” The blonde told the girl, jogging towards the boat and coming to a stop in front of the two, throwing his bag into the boat.

“Wait, why?” Pope piped up.

“We gotta get the hell outta here.” John B said urgently, getting into the boat right after JJ, you helping Sarah down into the vehicle as JB held a hand out for her, the girl still limping mildly due to her injury.

“Rafe knows we’re here so we have to leave, like, now.” She panted out, sitting down in the boat as you climbed in after her, not saying a word.

“Okay, okay…” Pope spoke absentmindedly, hurrying to un-tie the portion of the rope he did secure, tossing it into the boat. “Wait, what about the dog? Where’s Marley?” Sarah, John B, and JJ all looked at each other then at you, prompting Kie and Pope to share a look before doing the same.

“...We’ll explain everything later.” John B threw out, caressing Sarah’s back. You didn’t protest or say anything, you were too angry to do anything. The pair of them glanced at you once more before getting into the boat themselves.

“We’ll sail a few miles out, find somewhere to camp out for a bit.” Pope announced, getting behind the wheel and starting the engine. "Then, you have to tell us what the hell is going on."

“LOOK, IF RAFE AND BARRY KNOW, IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE EVERYONE KNOWS.” John B started, hands on his head as he paced back in forth in the grass. The group had found an empty clearing a few miles away from The Chateau, an open field near The Marsh.

JJ scoffed, shaking his head. “I told you. We should’ve gone south, man.” He added. “Why does no one ever listen?”

The rest of you sat in the grass not talking. You were sitting criss-crossed, plucking individual strands of grass. 

“...I have an idea.” Sarah croaked, swallowing harshly as she stared down at her shoes. “With me back, my dad’s going to have to choose between me and Rafe.” You paused in your grass plucking, peering up at the girl. 

“Sarah-” John B started only to be cut off.

“He’s gonna choose me.” She said confidently, looking at John B. 

“Just please listen.” Her boyfriend pleaded, holding a hand out in her direction to let him speak. “Ward keeps lying to you, Sarah.”

“No,I…I know it sounds crazy-”

“Yeah, it does.” Kiara told her bluntly. 

“I know.” Sarah defended herself, biting her bottom lip and looking around at the five of you. “But he’s my dad. And I know him, and I know he loves me.” She pleaded with the group, rubbing her hands nervously against her thighs. “I’m just asking for two hours.” She concluded, eyes wide and begging for you all to understand.

You simply shook your head, looking out at the water in front of you. If Sarah believed that her father would choose her, who were you to disagree? You had your doubts but you kept them quiet. If you learned anything in the past month or so, it’s that you have to let people see who others really are for themselves, otherwise they'll never believe it.

Without any more objections, Sarah tucked her hair behind her ears and stood up, looking at the group of you one last time before walking off.

SARAH HAD BEEN GONE FOR NEARLY AN HOUR, THE FIVE OF YOU WANDERING OFF AWAY FROM ONE ANOTHER. Pope and John B were at the edge of water talking, Kiara was laying in the grass plucking flowers, and you were leaning on a nearby tree. 

You got the urge to look up from where you were digging the toe of your shoe into the dirt when the sunlight was no longer beaming on you, coming face to face with possibly one of the last people you wanted to talk to.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “What part of leave me alone do you not understand?”

The blonde scratched the back of his head, looking side to side before shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “Look, I don’t know what I did to make you this mad at me. And even though I would really like to know and won’t stop bothering you until I find out, I promise I didn’t come over here to press you about it right now.”

“Then what are you over here for?”

“I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.” He said, eyes roaming your face as you looked away for a brief second. “You may hate my guts right now but we’re still pogues. And you know how I feel about you...” His voice lowered to a whisper as he leaned in closer. "That doesn't change just because you're pissed at me."

“I don’t hate you.” You didn’t mean to say it. You planned to let him talk to himself while you didn’t respond but something about JJ thinking you hated him really made your stomach turn. Sure, you felt betrayed and led on, but you didn’t hate him. You don't think you ever could.

It would take forces between the heavens and the earth before you would ever even come close to hating JJ.

“...And no. I’m not okay.” You said bluntly, straightening your posture. “I am angrier than I have ever been in my entire life and I can’t do shit about it, JJ.” You groaned, rubbing the back of your neck. “I don’t have any parental figure left, some psychopathic rapist who has an obsession with trying to ruin our lives just kidnapped my fucking dog, my best friend just came back from the dead and the only evidence we have to clear his name and keep him out of jail for a crime he didn’t even commit is being withheld by some batshit crazy woman who lives on a former slave plantation and has a live-in bodyguard, and you...” You ranted all in one breath, stopping yourself right before you went too far. 

JJ just nodded, rolling his lips in on themselves as he gave you a moment to collect yourself and catch your breath before speaking. “Yeah…yeah, that about covers it.” He said, the unhelpful statement causing you to roll your eyes. You don’t know if you purposefully left out the part about him and Kie or if it was a subconscious thing. You figured that would’ve been the best time, if any, to bring it up. But it also seemed like the most miniscule on your list of problems at the moment.

“Well…what about the box?”

“The what?” You said exhaustedly, squinting your eyes as he shifted his weight, allowing the sun to beam on your face. You were too blinded by the golden ray of light to notice how the blonde got distracted by you — the way the sun illuminated everything about you. It made the naturally lighter pieces of your hair more visible, it made your eyes a shade brighter, made your eyelashes more visible, and casted a heavenly glow across your skin. Deep down, he really wanted to get to the bottom of whatever he did to put you off from him this badly because the idea of having you in his life as more than a best friend was looking more appealing every second he looked at you.

Snapping himself out of it, he replied. “The, uh, the box of shit you stole from your mom’s office? That’s, like, hardcore evidence, right?” You pondered on the boy’s statement for a moment. It wasn’t like you’d forgotten about the evidence, it crossed your mind ever since John B’s text came through. But your biggest problem was Shoupe — you didn’t trust him. And you weren't sure if a couple of tapes would be any help.

“Ward has Shoupe and the entire Sheriff’s Department wrapped around his finger. If I hand over the only evidence we have and Shoupe chooses Ward over his oath as an officer, we lose everything.”

“But you don’t think it’s worth the risk if it can clear Bree?” He cocked an eyebrow, clearly questioning your judgment.

You bit your lip in contemplation, shaking your head. “...I’ll sort through everything and see what we can possibly bring to Shoupe. If things go south with JB and this whole key that Pope keeps talking about, I turn it all over to the police. Deal?”

JJ nodded his head, glancing back at his two friends at the edge of the water. “Deal.”

“In the meantime?” You threw out, pushing yourself off of the tree and adjusting yourself. “I’m gonna figure out how to get my damn dog back.” Just then, you saw the HMS Pogue coming towards the shore, Sarah perched on the edge.

The five of you stood up, approaching the edge of the water and watching as the girl let the engine die and the boat come to a halt. The guys moved forward to pull the boat up onto the sand, the girl taking the hand John B offered to assist her out of the boat.

“So, how’d it go?” He asked, hair blowing in the wind as you all crowded each other. Sarah looked to her feet, shaking her head.

“You guys were right.” She sniffled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It didn’t work.”

Everyone nodded despondently, expecting nothing more or less but still disappointed by the outcome. Despite you and JJ’s separate conversation, the pogues weren’t completely aware of the evidence you were holding onto. You figured they'd forgotten. You didn’t want John B and Sarah to have run again, but you needed some time to get what you needed to at least attempt to clear their names without backfire.

“We still have one more opt-”

“What’s that?” Kiara interrupted you, looking petrified at the water ahead of her. You all followed her gaze, finding a fleet of boats with flashing lights sailing directly towards the six of you. 

“How’d the cops find us?” Pope added, taking a weary step back as the boats got closer. 

“They must’ve followed you here.” John B told his girlfriend. “It had to have been Ward.” He spoke rather calmly. 

“Stay on the beach with your hands in the air!” One of the officers commanded through a megaphone. But since when were any of you known to follow rules?

A shared look amongst the group had you all bolting in the opposite direction within seconds, almost tripping over one another in the process. Running on sand was a harder task than you ever imagined, the ground feeling as if it was slipping underneath your feet.

One quick glance behind you and the officers were hopping off their boats, chasing after you all. Your shoes were submerged when you had to run through a shallow bank of salt water to get to the other side of the beach, hoping the trees would hide you. 

Sarah started to slow down, the running causing a strain on her side. John B was quick to scoop her up, throwing an arm around her torso and slinging one of her own over his shoulders. Tree branches and bushes nipped at your calves but you paid no mind to it. 

You could hear the heavy footsteps and radio chatter of the officers behind you all, scattered in the woods, trying to find you all from any and every angle. Reaching the edge of a pond surrounded by weeds, you all let John B help Sarah in first before following, the water going above your knees. 

The further in you waded, the deeper it got until you all had to literally swim across the body of water, Sarah at the tail end of the group. The murky water splashed into your mouth and in your eyes but you kept going. 

The sound of splashing and yelling behind you signaled that you’d been spotted just as you reached the other side, you being the first one out of the water. With no where else to go, you all hid behind the largest tree in sight, the object able to conceal the half dozen of you.

Sirens blared in the distance, your heads snapping behind you to find two police cars flying down the dirt road.

“We’re trapped.” Pope panted, crouching behind the tree. “They got us surrounded. What do we do?”

“We’re not getting out of this.” JJ said, blonde strands soaked, his shirt sticking to his body as he rang out a bandana. “We gotta make a stand.” Pulling the infamous gun from his waistband and wiping it off. You looked at him crazy, snatching the object from his hand before he had a chance to react. Your own hair was sticking to your face, the damp feeling of your clothes making you uncomfy,

“That’s the complete opposite of solving the problem.” You told him as he absentmindedly reached for the weapon. You held it out of his reach, oblivious to John B watching the entire interaction occur.

He was grateful that he had friends willing to get into this kind of trouble for him. But his heart wouldn’t allow any of you to go down with him. Unbeknownst to you, JB had climbed down from the tree, taking hold of your wrist of the arm that held the gun.

Your eyes met his as he slowly took the weapon from your grasp, letting it fall to the ground. Your eyebrows furrowed as he looked at each and every one of you with the most detached look on his face. Smiling at you all, he spoke.

“It’s gonna be all right.” He choked out, gently letting your wrist fall. It was then that you knew — he was surrendering. He took slow, backwards steps away from you all kicking a pile of dirt and leaves over the gun to conceal it.

Just then, Shoupe arrived, wasting no time in drawing his gun in your friend’s direction. “John B! Step out into the clearing!” He hollered, officers surrounding you all from every direction and every single one of them armed. 

“I’m surrendering!” He told the man, hands in the air. 

“Aye, the rest of y’all stay right where ya are, keep your hands where I can see 'em.” Shoupe told the five of you behind JB, all of your hands going in the air slowly. 

“Hey, listen Shoupe, I wanna testify!” John B cut in, eyes red and teary. 

“It’s ‘bout time.” The man said, approaching the boy with two officers trailing behind him. All three of them pointing pistols at you all. “Get down, do not move a muscle. Everybody else, don’t move!”

Shoupe directed one of his deputies to detain John B, the man storming over as he holstered his weapon. He pat JB down quickly before snatching the boy up into a chokehold, clearly out of anger and not protocol. 

“Are you serious?!” JJ was the first to call out, voice echoing throughout the woods.

“Hey, what the fuck?!” You shouted yourself, taking one small step forward but the female officer that chased the car a month ago, Deputy Plumb, was quick to stop you, pointing her pistol right in between your eyes.

“Stay where you are!” She instructed firmly, her eyebrows setting into a fine line. 

You and your friends were forced to watch as the officer arresting John B, who Shoupe referred to as Deputy Thomas, slammed your friend onto his back into the grass and beat on him. You were all shouting and screaming but anytime you took a step, there was officer in your face with a fully loaded pistol or an assault rifle. And these people looked too trigger happy to be arresting a teenager.

Shoupe finally stepped in when Thomas had John B by the collar of his shirt. The man in charge attempted to pull his deranged officer off of your friend but he was pushed back as the man faced John B once more, nostrils flared as he held the boy mid-air.

“...This is for Peterkin.”

And with an uppercut, John B was out cold.

next chapter>

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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©loveharlow.

[palenutbasement]

(all scenes are depicted as platonic)

So every Inktober I try to do something more challenging, and this year I thought I would make a short comic/fanfic. I think I got the idea for this one a year ago but I was already wrapped up with another Inktober. Eventually I solidified the idea by making my own prompt list some time ago.

This comic is split into three parts with 10 days focusing on each of them, 30 in total, everything is compiled here. I wanted to post them after October in case I wanted to change anything.

This first part takes place in the summit.

The comic is basically all improvised, that means no planning for the composition, plot, or sketching any drawings. The most planning I did was write a few scripts ahead of time within the month to save me some time but most of them would be changed last minute anyways.

As for the plot, I won't go too deep into it because I don't want to talk too much, so you'll just find commentary on the making of the comic and stuff.

This first part is a little gimmick-y compared to the next two, with new elements appearing almost every day. It’s because I relied a lot on the prompts (dog, milk, etc.) to keep things happening, eventually I move further away from them.

What is surprising to me is how much the art changes as the days go by especially within the span of one month. I did refine a few things to keep it more consistent but this is nearly indistinguishable from the original drawings.

I should also mention that my favourite aspect of this project was adding references to the game and subtle details (if you can find it all, awesome!!) This may have been done quickly but I like to have those things and put at least a bit of effort into the dialogue.

Part 2

Eventually I figured that drawing the same setting for 30 days straight would drive me insane, hence why this comic is split like it is. I’m glad I did because it makes the story a little more interesting, seeing the characters have different attitudes in different places and whatnot.

This one takes place in the cave directly after pt 1. Admittedly I do better drawing outdoor settings, it's what I'm used to, but the cave wasn't so bad to figure out.

I remember these two days I was streaming drawing the comic to my friends, so I kinda zoned out while we were talking lol

One of the prompts was about napping, so I made Dwarf sleep. I believe I was tired that day too and it was therapeutic to draw and include that. Also they look cute, I think.

18 & 19 have some of my favourite drawings in the comic. The campfire lighting is what we'd get if I had a bit more energy each day, and I like the perspective in the first panel of 19.

I find this last section interesting, because of all the 30 days, it’s the only one in Dwarf’s POV. I felt like it was fitting to do something like that at the time.

Part 3

Since we were approaching Halloween, I wanted to have a special part for it. It’s related to the other two parts but it takes place some time after. I’m really sorry it’s out of season, if it were up to me I would have had this post out earlier (thank my midterms for the delay)

Out of all the other parts this one is my favourite. Maybe because it’s more recent I’m inclined to think that way but it has some of my fave moments that I've written here.

Other than that I don't have much commentary for this part. More thoughts at the end!

I was caught up everyday atp, but I didn’t have much spare time to prepare for the ending (I wrote it the morning of that day). I think this is a decent conclusion though.

I intend on coming back to this story, maybe next year to make a continuation but we'll see what happens. There are definitely things that I want to come back to someday.

Thank you for making it this far btw. It's been an eventful month for me beyond this (Untitled) comic, but there wasn't a single aspect of this that I didn't enjoy doing. It's a silly project and I care about it.

Also, I'm not going to neglect the 31st of October! That day will get an illustration, where I will pick my favourite panel and redraw it. I want to take my time with this one so it's not out yet, but hopefully I can finish by Christmas.

[starry-907]

hi starry!!! <3 i've been seeing so many stick men on my dash, and i've gotten super curious. the fandom wiki page answered none of my questions, so i thought i'll turn to the resident expert <3 <3 <3 whomst may be these characters and where do they come from?

RESIDENT EXPERT SJDLFJSKDJ THANK YOU I GUESS?? i'm just very autistic abt these silly sticks, i don't think i'm much of an expert

the stickfigures are from Alan Becker's Animation Vs series/franchise (calling it a franchise seems wrong but there's multiple series under the umbrella so idk how else to describe it) on youtube! i'm gonna go into more detail on that but i'm putting it under a cut because i don't know how long this'll get to be completely honest

also sorry if this takes a while to get answered i wanted to collect screenshots and visuals

So i'm not gonna get into a full play-by-play, mainly to avoid spoiling you, but the series can be kinda split up into a few different categories (the first two being the "primary" series of the overarching series)

ALSO the creator refers to all the sticks with he/him but a lot of people tend to headcanon differently (it's me i'm people) so i might use my own hc pronouns for characters. honestly part of the series' appeal is the fact that there's wiggle room for headcanons to emerge.

anyway! starting off with the og:

Animator vs Animation

animator vs animation starts off with the simple question of, "hey what if my drawings came to life and fought me", which is somewhat of the overarching question through the first 3 installments

the fourth one winds up turning that question on it's head by the end because of this silly li'l guy, The Second Coming (usually called second or orange by the fandom)

by the end of ava 4, second (and the friends they found on a website) have reached an understanding with the animator (who's also alan, it's a bit confusing but i try to think of it like mcyt rules where there's the creator and then the character), and are now friends with him. ava 1-4 were recently bundled into being animator vs animation season 1, i'd recommend you start with these four if you want to watch the other series.

ava seasons 2 and 3 (season 3 is currently ongoing) take a bit of a different turn, delving into the previously left up to question fates of the past three sticks that alan had made in ava 1-3, along with also dropping some bombshells of lore here and there. semi related side note i'm taking the chosen one and shaking them in a tupperware violently.

Animation vs Minecraft

this one is the longest of the different series, with 35 episodes (36 counting the original). it also pulls off the "mainly filler eps until everything suddenly spurs into motion" thing very well. it's also funny because the series started out named as "animation vs minecraft shorts" when episodes in season 3 would get up into at least 20 minute runtimes.

this series is where we start to get personalities developed for the four sticks that second befriended in ava 4, through the lens of different minecraft niches, from animal care to potions to redstone to noteblocks.

avm seasons 1 and 2 focus more on exploring the different aspects of minecraft (such as build battles), though season 1 does have a very brief arc involving this other stick, purple

(purple shows up in later episodes as well)

speaking of purple, if you're watching animation vs minecraft as a whole, make sure to watch animation vs leauge before you get to season 3 otherwise there could be a brief moment of confusion.

"but starry idk anything about minecraft-" THAT'S OK!! sorry for yelling i got excited. the series does a pretty good job of laying down the basics of the more complex mechanics before the stickfigures proceed to take it to heights that are probably not achievable in vanilla.

"starry what about season 3-" I'M GLAD YOU ASKED sorry got excited again. season 3 takes a hard pivot from "semi-unconnected episodes with maybe a few overarching elements" to "fully episodic adventures that will genuinely make you a bit emotional at times near the end". it also starts with blue going to find netherwart before the escalation escalates and trust me once you know how the season ends that seems so much funnier.

season 4 goes back to the less sequential episodes, just with a few status quo updates from the end of season 3 added in, namely the occasional addition of two characters from season 3 that people go feral over seeing included.

I'LL ALSO USE THIS SPACE TO TALK ABOUT THE ACTUAL SHORTS, which, as stated, are shorts that don't have a runtime over a minute or a minute and a half. they're somewhat of a mix between minecraft themed and being themed around other aspects of the series (there's one where the sticks and alan try to max out a clicker game, for example).

animation vs education

these ones are a bit less "plot" and a little more "hey look at this cool thing". the only character we're familiar with to be in this is second, and we essentially follow them going through these various black spaces exploring different educational concepts. right now we have avmath, avphysics, and avgeometry.

they all manage to be engaging and interesting even when the concept being explored reaches the point where you might not understand what the heck is going on (a big example for me being when avphysics started getting into more theoretical stuff, the sequence was cool enough that i didn't even care that half of it was going over my head).

i also feel like these are the ones that people unfamiliar with the series are likely to find? at least when i mention the series usually if someone's heard of it it's cuz they've watched avmath or avphysics.

even though these don't seem to have any connection to the main series (though a lot of people hc that they're second's dreams), i still recommend giving these a watch if for no other reason that they're really cool!

influencer arc

this one's the newest bit added to the umbrella! it's a 3-episode arc about one of the sticks, green, making a youtube channel with his friends and also exploring adobe products. we only have one episode of this so far, and it was funny because everyone was literally going feral over it when it released.

this one's also fun because there's an actual youtube channel for green, so you can see the full version of the videos they make in the episodes! the channel was leaked before the episode release so everyone went feral over that then too. the videos on the channel are very much "kids messing around with a camera" vibes.

the one-off eps

there's quite a number of these that explore different things, like animation vs youtube, where second and green manage to tick off a video player, or the team trees and team seas videos where blue gets the ability to grow trees and remove trash with money (at least in second's dreams). like i said, for understanding one aspect of avm season 3 (namely why everyone's fairly chill with purple when meeting them), i recommend watching animation vs leauge before reaching season 3, purple shows up there.

if you want me to go more in depth about the characters themselves (with some of my headcanons bleeding through a li'l), let me know and i can make a part two! i recommend giving the series a watch if you want to understand better but you'll likely want to break it up into more managable chunks

i also wrote most of this while on the bus to work

[13-nothing]

Ok, so I've been on a Marvel kick recently (I mean who hasn't with the Deadpool and Wolverine movie having come out) and ya know what I really want?

I want a Marvel's Law animated tv show that's basically where Howard the Duck, Jennifer Walters, and Matt Murdock rotate per episode to represent or (in Howard's case) investigate all of our fav characters in some kinda court trial where it's just a TON of crossovers and team ups.

Have it where they have one *guest* (Oooo, aaaah) character per episode, and then have those eps split into two parts where one part is the court side where its like that time when Spidey tried to sue the Bugle for defamation, and then the 2nd part is some fun kick butt action with the *guest* (Oooo, aaaah) and one of our law people fighting the mafia or something, while keeping the whole thing fairly light hearted, but including a few curse words, blood, and such if the character in question calls for it.

I would have most of the eps of seasons 1, 2, & 3 be like above where they are mostly unconnected, with a few extremely vague hints sprinkled throughout that give clues towards something that happens to these characters in the comics that they will give insight to where it's going. But then on the last ep of the 3rd season reveal that all of the heroes r having a HUGE civil war with every single Marvel character (well all the ones that make sense at least meaning no Guardians of the Galaxy or like IDK Alpha Flight really doesn't work either).

Then having the 4th and final season just basically following a Civil War Arc cause 🚨🚨 NEWSFLASH 🚨🚨 not all Superhero Civil Wars JUST include the Avengers (unlike how all of the tv show and movie iterations have shown thus far) (Unless they did that in the continuation of 'Avengers Assemble'? But I don't think they included the Fantastic Four or the Xmen in that SOOO ya my statement still stands).

BUUUUUUT that's just a little random Marvel idea I had cause y not? Also I kinda would just like an actually intertwined Marvel universe for once where everyone's stories overlap and have the crossovers that they were meant to have. (I mean it's kinda like that for the 90's shows and the 2010s shows but even then they r holding back from what it could be. Like I want ALL the Spidey crossovers in their full animated glory, *dramatic sigh* but alas I am left to read comics and the shows I have until the end of time.)

Thanks for reading and I say farewell to thee my fellow existences!

[northlight14]

Ok so while it’s not my least favourite episode (cough cough happy campers cough cough) I genuinely really hate the episode Western Energy of Helluva Boss. It has a lot of potential definitely and a few good moments but for me that was kinda where season 2 noticeably fell off for me and only recently has it started to come back and I’ve started to enjoy Helluva Boss again, though admittedly not as much as season 1. So in the sincere hope this post isn’t going to result in me getting sent death threats, I wanna share how I personally would improve the episode

Mine and other people’s biggest issues with that episode from what I remember is that the pacing is just honestly horrific because they tried to fit in too much into one episode. And then also just that the B plot was boring, ridiculous and made Luna into a literal dog. I know that Luna’s voice actor was dealing with some stuff at the time which is why she wasn’t in a position to do any voice acting which is fair enough but there was such a better and easier way to get around that which I’ll get to in a minute

First things first, I’d have the episode split into two separate episodes, the first episode being released focusing on Blitzo and then the second focusing on Moxxie and Millie rescuing Stolas. The first episode starts where the I.M.P gang are gonna go and do an assassin mission (I say this because at this point in the series, the Imps haven’t been on a killing mission since Ozzies and even then it was just a throwaway thing at the beginning. The last time we saw them actually do their jobs was Cherubs or arguably Truth Seekers but I don’t really count they since they weren’t hired to kill D.O.R.K.S). We maybe then get a throwaway line about how Luna can’t help because she’s doing something else, doesn’t want to, or my personal favourite, she’s with Octavia for the day because she got told that Octavia’s parents are out talking about their divorce and she’s being her emotional support for the day. That way, even though we aren’t seeing it, we get some subtle development of their sister relationship behind the scenes.

Anyway, just as they’re about to go, the Imps get a call from Stolas about how he’s being kidnapped and Blitzo is just like “ok I’ll go deal with the killing, you go deal with him”. The rest of the episode follows Blitzo on the assassination mission and all that, potentially getting some subtle hints about things not going great with Moxxie and Millie but Blitzo is obviously too wrapped up in his own shit to notice and also we maybe play on those insecurities about him being alone, or scared of losing people. Maybe some aspect of the mission makes him run into an addict and that makes him think about his sister, hence why he’s so eager to find her in Happy Campers.

Anyway, Blitzo gets the mission done and everything is good except he and then the audience sees Stolas being rushed to the hospital, and we get the line “he can get hurt?” And boom end of episode. No one knows what happened or if he’s ok

Cut to the next episode which follows Moxxie and Millie saving Stolas and we’re finally allowed to know what happened. A few details I’d change though would be keep Strikers intimidating presence rather than just making constant jokes and comments about how cool and hot he is or whatever. Some of that is ok but in this episode when Striker is literally kidnapping one of the main cast, and he’s the only one who has the ability to actually kill that character, it shouldn’t feel like the show itself is in love with him.

Second, use this opportunity to focus on how well the M&M’s work together and their individual strengths. It’s such a minor detail but it annoys me, why the fuck was Millie the one distracting a dude in one scene while Moxxie was going on a killing spree in the background when it’s been shown multiple times that their strengths are when that’s reversed. On top of that, there can also be some hints about what their weaknesses are while working together etc. idk I just want the M&M’s fleshed out more in terms of how their differences work as a couple as well as when they’re apart

This second episode would go back and forth between the M&M’s and Stolas and Striker but for the most part everything else would be the same. The M&M’s obviously save Stolas and he gets sent to the hospital. That’s when we get to see the text messages between Stolas and Blitzo, then end of episode

Hope this made sense and obviously this is just my opinion. Remember, just because you like something doesn’t mean you can’t critique it or say how it could be better. And you’re allowed to disagree with me, this is just how I would’ve went about it

[crystalelemental]

There's a 47-minute long video talking about the problems of Masters nowadays. If you have time, I want to know your thoughts about it.

https://youtu.be/xuf5B3sLbyo

Oh, you know I love talking about my opinions, I'm all over this.

Chapter 1: Limited Sync Pair Reruns Okay this one is immediately hilarious, because of the timing. I did check, the video came out two days ago, and my dude I know you said two months of editing but if you'd waited literally two days, you'd have some answers. The Variety are analogous to Seasonal, since the Eevees reran in one year. The idea of a scout with other options is also exactly what they did for Mix Scouts, but the trap was it's paid only. I will say, I didn't realize that Elesa and Cyrus only reran on the paid scout together and had nothing else until very recently, that one's kinda nasty.

I think the problem is double-edged. The simplest solution is...rerun more things in a month. But that overloads the month and the players feel like too much is happening at once with too few gems to keep up. I personally agree with things like the Lodge Rotation and think it's a great means of keeping consistent access, and more like that would be a good start. I half agree with the shared focus, but as someone who went into Gloria and SS Lys with a 3/5 SS Lys and no Gloria, that spread hurt like hell. There's good and bad in such approaches. The other half is...guys, just make more select scouts with paid gems. It's not like you lose out on that much doing it if you're never rerunning these things anyway. It's a lost opportunity.

I understand DeNA's plan. If you never know if a rerun happens in a few months or two years, every PokeFair is a must-pull now, because shit are they ever coming back? But something like SS Leon does prove the issue that you have to be careful of how you approach it, because Leon's not even good anymore. Damn near every Dragon is better than him right now. SS Cyrus may still hold up, but sometimes the selection isn't sensible. I think the ultimate issue is they wait too long, so people lose interest, and they can't even make money off the big names. I don't know the perfect answer, because I know they're using this as a tactic to put pressure on people in the moment for what's currently available, never knowing if it will rerun. But it's...odd to not aim for more for your popular picks.

Chapter 2: Twitter Rally Rewards I'll keep this short: they're not going to bring those rally gems back. They don't care and gacha exists to pull back reward over time. These are gone for good. It sucks, but it's time to move on.

Chapter 3: Pull Rates This one's...contentious, because I don't know that anyone really wants my opinion on it. But here goes.

It's this or another double scout every year. You must choose one. Either every seasonal set involves more and more scouts showing up for the pairs, or you cluster them all together. His example of clustering to maintain the total 2% is hilariously off-base too. I'm sorry, 0.33% is bigger than 0.66%, but it's functionally indistinct. Even 0.75% is too low to matter. Keep in mind, the average rate of getting a Master Fair at 1%? it's going to pity. That's your average performance. His suggestions do not at all address the stated issue, which is that low rates result in needing to go to scout. If your goal is to reduce the need for going to scout points, the rates must be higher than 1%, which confers an approximate average rate of getting them at scout points. Anything less is functionally identical to 1%, in that you're still going to scout points in most situations. The only suggestion I will agree with is the splitting up the banners, but rates should be set to 1.5% each, and no more than three on a focus. That's the only way this problem gets solved for.

I do like the idea of repeating the track for multiple pairs. I could be swayed for something like Winter, to get 3/5 Nessa and the first Leon.

Chapter 4: Monthly Gem Counts See chapter 2. It's not happening, guys. No gacha has ever reversed this kind of decision. It sucks, I'm sorry, but I think you're forgetting this game is a gacha and this is what gacha does. "But there are so many limited pairs!" Again that is the point. The notion that people would pay more if more free gems is also just wrong. I'm aware of what he's saying, but...no.

This ties into the Rocket thing. I know some cared, but most don't give a shit about the Rocket executives. Most people are fine skipping. Most people were fine skipping Paulo. Most people only cared about the NC Kantrio. More free gems isn't going to lead to more spending on other pairs, because they're already set on skipping.

Chapter 5: Returning Events Third verse, same as the...look, they're dropping these because they're cutting down free gems. What did you think caused the reductions you've talked about? Blissful might come back, but not routinely.

The story event reruns are a huge deal though. I fully agree with those rerunning more often. At a minimum, I kinda hope to see them add the old story content into the whole side stories tab they put the sync pair stories under. Not to compare to Dragalia, but one thing it actually did do right was have that compendium to see all the old stuff. It's sad to think Halloween 2021 is gone forever, you know? Everyone should get to find out Caitlin is the best.

Chapter 6: Spotlight Sync Pair Scouts *breaks knuckles* Alright fuckos, time to talk about my favorite "There is no winning in a gacha" proof of concept.

...after commenting on some of his points. Yes, Spotlights should be 3% for on-focus. The guaranteed 5* at every scout is insane, they'd never agree, and boosted overall rates would ruin PokeFair as a concept. The idea of putting them on a PokeFair as a secondary option is fucking deranged. This is his dumbest idea by miles. Sure dude, a general pool option on a PokeFair with a 1% is a super great idea, very sane. I sure would love a general pool attached at a garbage rate to a PokeFair I could easily skip. This will not cause any negative feelings toward anything, and the general idea of "just pull them off-focus with the Master Fairs" will certainly change in response to this. Actually, I take it back. The idea of "There are too many scouts going on" is the worst actually, because you want there to be more in the first place, bro! Remember the rerun issue? You can't fix the lack of reruns without more scouts! You need there to be a lot running all the time or you don't have anywhere to goddamn put them all!

And now I can get real nasty.

The problem is that no Spotlights means no generally accessible pairs, right? The problem is that casual players can't get the PokeFairs, right? Okay. You checked the rates on general pool lately? They're not great. If you have them, it's because you scouted on their independent banner as a favorite, or you got them via ticket. Or you got stupid lucky. Tell me, what happens when you add a bunch more Spotlights to the general pool? Very good, those numbers go down. Meaning any individual thing in the general pool is now substantially harder to pull when they're not the focus. And a general pool never gets the focus anymore. By asking for more general pool pairs, people are getting caught up in the idea of wanting new things to be there just to be there. They don't actually have better access to it than if they were a PokeFair. In fact, the rates are substantially worse until they're added to a ticket scout. You're not more likely to get, say, Lenora, because she's general pool. You just have "a chance," and the illusion of chance makes it seem more appealing. But it's an illusion. A trick of the gacha. There is no winning move here, because if they do what is asked, you now have a harder time getting any specific thing you want, which is putting the vicegrip on you to pull their independent run. Or, god forbid they listen to this guy on this one, you have to pull on a PokeFair you wanted to skip for even worse rates.

Spotlight Scouts do not need removed like that. It accomplishes nothing. And the argument of needing more general pool additions cannot come from a place of people wanting more available tools, because it won't produce them. The solution to Spotlight Scouts, the only solution, is higher on-focus rates, and lowered scout points. Anything less is a bandaid on a broken leg.

I swear I'll move on, but this point is downright frustrating to me when it's brought up, because the problem isn't the Spotlights, it's player mentality. "Spotlights aren't very good, pull on the better pairs and aim for them as off-focus" is not something you solve for by attaching them to PokeFairs. They are, by design, not a draw unless they're a favorite, and if they are somehow a favorite? Nothing sucks worse than being attached to something else you don't care about. And to have the gall to also complain about too many options being available, after talking about demanding more frequent reruns literally 15 minutes ago, is infuriating. It's inconsistent. It's a perfect capsule of how no one can be happy with gacha, because they want actively conflicting things, and no one can recognize when something was built to favor you. The continued existence of Spotlights, on their own, is a courtesy to people who like them. Sorry you think that one extra page is a blight on your experience, you clown.

Chapter 7: Move Candy Coins Okay maybe I'm not done bitching. Hey kids, you know what makes it so you don't need as much candy? Not pulling stuff. "But the limited-" deal. This. Is. A. GACHA. They're not going to hand you a bunch of candy to upgrade sync pairs while sales are way down! No, you cannot complain about not getting more candy. This is expected. The Field and Sprint is extra infuriating, because fucking goddamit, they just dropped! We have like three options on each! Of course they're not shitting out Sprint and Field candy, THEY WANT YOU TO BUY THE GENERAL CANDY PACK! OH MY GOD HE'S ASKING FOR FUCKING FIVE GENERAL CANDY A MONTH?! ARE YOU INSANE?! WHO ARE YOU? I JUST WANNA TALK

This one is just out of touch with reality. The low candy count and lack of modern candy is intentional, they are trying to drum up sales for their really good Candy Bundle pack. $25 every 20 days is not much at all for a gacha, and it gets you a full ass candy AND 7k gems. They're not going to undermine that by shelling out a ton of candy coins, they want you to spend. The best you can hope for? Individual packs for each candy type. Maybe $15-16 per type, 3k gems in each, and a 20 day course of candy coins for a full candy of the selected type. Which they're also not going to do, because that would massively cut whale spending.

I never break out the word "entitlement" when it comes to gacha, because ultimately every player is being massively exploited and I think people are in fact owed a good game that is fun to play. But this feels like the closest I'll ever come. It is so wildly out of touch, and so demanding of a thing that will never, ever happen because it's so antithetical to their bottom line, that it feels like something that could only be said by someone who doesn't know what gacha even is.

Chapter 8: EX Roles I...really, really hoped we would end on an agreement. Because I have many complaints about EX Roles. But it's about adding more coins for easier access. To this thing. That they're using to drum up sales. AGAIN. The bigger problem is that almost no one uses them, and thus their attempt to monetize them are...bad. Ineffective at best. Add it to older options so there's a justification for wanting them, and so the scarcity is actually felt.

Final Thoughts The problems discussed are on point, but some are just unsolvable by nature of what this game is. If it's that big a bother, stop playing. Sincerely, please stop, these games are good for zero people playing them. It's for the best. But some of the others are actively contradictory. Rerun more stuff, but also don't make too many scouts at once. We want things to be more accecssible, but do that by adding a bunch of general pool pairs that make it nigh-impossible to get anything specific, and let's recommend attaching them to other pairs so you can't even snipe them specifically.

I think point 1 is fair, and solutions proposed are at least somewhat sane, but apparently come at the cost of things he complains about later. I think point 3 is fair, but his solutions are completely ineffective at addressing the problem. Everything from point 4 onward is just spiraling into worse and worse suggestions, as complaints shift into complaints that are generalized to all gacha, not just this one, because that's what these games are. I am infinitely frustrated by many of these suggestions and have been complaining to my wife about it the entire hour and a half I spent sitting her listening and composing thoughts. I am now in a great position to go work out, and as always, anger has brightened my mood. Thanks for sharing! Genuinely, I love getting mad about arbitrary stuff.

[share-the-damn-bed]

I am 100% sure that they are gonna split the season and I am 100% sure that the last Jancy scene we'll get in volume 1 will be the blowup fight about college.

Hey, look, it's my most realistic season 5 nightmare haunting my ask box!

But seriously, Anon, there is a very real possibility this is exactly what will happen and it is partly why I'm so wary of a mid season break because I feel like the writers will use it to temporarily break up Jancy which will lead to a very stressful time between volumes.

However, I do still have hope. And I want offer a glimpse of that hope to break up the little bit of ask-related doom spiraling on my page recently.

At this point, I truly believe (after close analysis of all the ST4 scenes) that there is no chance for a St*ncy endgame. I really don't think Nancy's heart is in it authentically and I believe that the point of the entire plot line was to have Steve "crawl backwards" a bit, regress in his character development (since he was fully redeemed and they didn't know what to do with him) and give him a chance to mature past this once again in season 5 and win over the hearts of the audience in a way that parallels season 2. Fans love when Steve is a pathetic character they can root for (post-nancy dumping him, literally all of season 3). It's kinda like a reset for him.

I also believe that season 5 will end happily for all the main characters and I trust the writers to do right with all of them. Even Jonathan. I will argue that Jonathan actually did have a great arc set up in season 4 that was not focused on enough and was cut too early in the season until I'm blue in the face. They would be dumb not to explore it more in season 5 because his character needs it. I'm not saying that this guarantees a Jancy endgame but I do think it means the conflict with Jancy will be resolved in a way that satisfies both characters' overarching arcs. Even if they do temporarily break up between volumes. And I personally think that the best way to do that is by having Jancy end up together. Especially because...

The overarching theme of this show is the power of love. This has been shown repeatedly, especially in season 4. I believe this concept will be what our heroes will use to defeat Vecna in the end (especially with his anti-human/humans suck philosophy). Therefore, it only makes sense that love will be what will resolve this conflict between Jonathan and Nancy and that their love will help them overcome every obstacle.

For those, like me, who may agree with everything I stated above but are still wary because they no longer trust the writers, I want to point out one thing I've reflected on which may help...

I really hated the way they handled the Billy storyline in season 3 (sorry Billy fans). I didn't like how they made him an obvious human antagonist who was abusive towards Max in season 2 and then suddenly changed their relationship in season 3 where Max was worried about him and the show seemed to completely forget about all the horrible things he did in season 2. I thought his redemption attempt was cheap and I didn't bat an eye when he died. I was more concerned for Max but I was still confused why she was so upset. The show didn't do a decent job explaining any of this during that season.

I wrote this whole thing off as bad writing (which to be fair, in season 3 it mostly was) and I was very, very worried when I saw the trailer for season 4 for the first time (with Max reading a letter at Billy's grave) and learned that an episode was going to be called "Dear Billy".

HOWEVER, I thought season 4 did an amazing job, an actual incredible job, presenting Max's grief surrounding her step-brother and her mourning the relationship they would never have.

I'm not saying this makes season 3's writing choices suddenly good but it does give more context for why Max acted the way she did in season 3 AND the situation from season 3 gave the writers the foundation for the best storyline in season 4.

In summary, even though some choices did not make sense or seem good in season 4, I am going to trust the writers to tie things up in a satisfying way (just like they did with Max's relationship with Billy) in season 5. I want to wait to see the whole, complete story before I continue to judge them too harshly.

[riacte]

The Thing about False + Ren becoming rotating members in MCC is that… it’s the end of an era. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

False + Ren were the Season 1 Core Hermit Duo that started in MCC4, they rarely split or were absent (until recently). Because they team(ed) up so often, with +1 hermit members like Cub or Grian, people strongly associate(d) “hermit team” with these two. And of course they all had the underdogs story (MCC9 and 10) and left a mark in the history of MCC. We could always rely on False to team with a hermit in MCC. Ren always teamed with False. They were the constants, and naturally people latched onto them. No matter what happened, we would have False and a hermit (which was Ren most of the time).

… But note the past tense.

Season 2. There’s been more new hermits, with Gem becoming a MCC regular, Grian’s been OWNING it, more and more people want to join, and so naturally, naturally, people had to be switched out. And naturally, oh-so-naturally, those people were those who had joined MCC the longest.

And you really can’t complain, can you? False, Ren, and Cub have had amazing performances in MCC. They won, False won three times, they’ve been in a LOT of MCCs, and we’re very fortunate to have False and Ren be regulars until they weren’t. Heck, they have a lot more content to watch than many other participants. It’s definitely a fun ride, and I would definitely love it if other participants could have the same experience.

But now Scott hasn’t been putting them in MCCs, quite understandably so. After all, they’ve been in SO MANY MCCs. But I didn’t really understand until Cub of the fan skipped MCC16 when he was expected to play. False and Ren not playing is already kinda :( because I love watching them lmao, but Cub not playing was like the frost on the snow.

This is MCC Season 2. Season 1 is over.

It’s time for new regulars, new experiences, new POVs to watch. It’s really understandable and reasonable, and after all, if we miss them, we still have at least 10 POVs to rewatch <3

[thefirstknife]

The Fall of a Pyramid Ship

Besties, I have a thought. Many of them actually.

I recently went on a long tangent about how there is a possibility that some time during Season of the Lost a Pyramid will appear in the Dreaming City and we will be bringing it down. That Pyramid will then end up in Savathun's throne world which is where we will be going into it for the Witch Queen Raid. Post with the details here.

The rest under the cut because it's long:

The original post was mostly spurred someone asking about Sjur's dream from the lore on Sleepless. The relevant parts:

"I was dreaming," Sjur says, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand. "I saw you on a great black triangle. You split it in two with your bare hands."

"Mm."

"And I was dead, I think." She cracks her neck with a deliciously loud pop. "Or… trapped? Like in a maze. But pretty close to figuring my way out."

"Mhm."

Sjur stands up to stretch. She does not mind that Mara is not listening. Let her read. "And there was another woman with you."

"On the triangle," Mara murmurs.

"Mm. Yeah. She was helping. Then your brother showed up, and…" She shakes out her arms, frowning thoughtfully. The dream is already fading. "He said, 'Tropaea.' Or maybe it was, uh, 'Tropical.' Anyway."

I bolded the most relevant sentences. The original post really wasn't about the whole Pyramid business, but I had to add my thoughts now that we know more than we did back when this lore was released. Not only the stuff I mentioned in the post, but also now we know that Savathun is (allegedly) trying to help us defeat the Black Fleet and the same was said about the reason why Mara wants her Techeuns back.

And I was just re-reading lore, as I do, and I remembered something. The lore book Stolen Intelligence details some of the records made by Ikora's Hidden and other Vanguard agents. Specifically, the page Fragment is what caught my attention. In it, an agent FEN-092 (most likely the one, the only, the man, the legend: Fenchurch Everis) reports a strange incident on the Moon:

2. Around 1900 hours yesterday afternoon, I began to experience a crushing headache and excused myself from patrol to recuperate. Though I originally intended to lay down for a nap, I fell asleep instead, and experienced multiple vivid dreams over the next 11.5 hours. In all of these dreams, I was trying to catch up with agent ERI-223 in a crowd. She was always out of reach, whether by 200 m or 20 m. I had the sense that I needed to speak to her.

3. When I woke, I found that my headache had not improved. I prepared my armor and exited my bivouac to find a single stationary Thrall crouched nearby. It stood as I approached, but made no motion to attack me. I fired one shot, killing it immediately. Upon stepping forward to examine its corpse, I saw a solid black fragment of an unknown material embedded in its chest cavity. The fragment resembled a flake or a shard of some larger object, not dissimilar to a high-gain photovoltaic panel.

ERI-223 is Eris Morn. The fragment was peculiar at the time this was released (Forsaken), but now post-Shadowkeep and post-Beyond Light, we can definitely identify this artifact as a piece of the Pyramid. Fenchurch's Ghost also reports:

5. I requested that my Ghost attempt to contain and transmat the fragment for quarantine on my jumpship. He was unable to establish a Light link with the object, describing the fragment as "slippery" and "tiring" to try to catch hold of.

To me, it is most likely that this is literally a shard of the Pyramid, like those little pieces you can see on Europa when a Pyramid scale ripples. But more important is what follows:

8. At this point, I broke protocol and did not request additional backup. Instead, I picked up the fragment by hand and immediately experienced a vivid hallucination: I stood over VIP #0704's shoulder as she dressed a seven-inch gash on agent ERI-223's thigh. Both #0704 and ERI-223 were dressed for combat. Hundreds of fragments of the unknown material hung in the air around us, apparent shrapnel from the wreckage of a nearby ship of unrecognizable make and model. ERI-223 looked directly toward me and said, "Патетическая."

Obviously none of this made any sort of reasonable sense at the time. But now?

"Hundreds of fragments of the unknown material hung in the air around us, apparent shrapnel from the wreckage of a nearby ship of unrecognizable make and model" is a pretty clear hint at what we now know is a Pyramid ship. Specifically, a wreckage of one.

As we've established, ERI-223 is Eris Morn. Who is VIP #0704? As of now, it is undecided. I've done a bit of a search and most of the guesses are 2 years old and they usually settled on it being Eriana-3 OR Mara Sov. I think it's pretty obvious that it's Mara, if we pair it with the Sleepless lore tab.

But there's another link. The lore book The Dreaming City has a page called Letters. This lore book in general is kinda all over the place and details some lore that doesn't really have a place elsewhere, but it generally revolves around the Awoken and characters adjacent to them. There is a lot about Mara, including information about how Eleusinia and the Oracle Engine were created, as well as her relationship with Riven.

Anyway, in Letters, we see several letters written by Eris to various people, but never delivered. We kinda have to assume a lot here because nothing is explicitly named, but we can for sure say that these letters were written by Eris. To whom? It's up to debate. Some of these seem to be for Mara, one is most certainly for Asher and one is most likely for Ikora. The one I want to focus on is one I can't decide where to place but it features a word we've seen before:

Undelivered, burnt.

Патетическая. The swelling of strong sentiment in your chest even as you mourn the world that is and was and will be. I did not go to Mars. I will not go to the Dreaming City. There is only the plan.

"Патетическая" is Russian and it means "pathetic." I'm thoroughly lost on why this is repeated twice as coming from Eris in two different instances. Truth to Power claims that Eris was born during the Golden Age in Russia, but Stolen Intelligence disproves this. Hm.

Either way, there are several things that seem to fit together in all of this:

1. Destruction of the Pyramid ship (Sleepless, Fragment) 2. Eris and Mara involved with some sort of an ongoing plan (Sleepless, Fragment, Letters) 3. A battle that involves a Pyramid, Eris (who ends up wounded), Mara and Crow (Sleepless, Fragment) 4. Eris saying the same peculiar word seemingly completely out of context (Fragment, Letters)

I want to point out something about the Letters entry. It's not chronological. As in, the entries in that lore page aren't all from the past or current plot from when the lore book was released. Observe the final part of Letters (which released in Forsaken):

Delivered.

I have been inside. I have nothing but beautiful and violent words for my report. I will meet you at your throne.

Lore book Letters from Eris, from Shadowkeep, page Regarding the Pyramid:

[DELIVERED, RECONSTRUCTED.]

It's coming, my Queen.

It's coming for US.

We have been manipulated. We are right where it wants us. The Darkness orchestrated its plan magnificently; the Nightmares were so impeccably calculated to draw us in, make us vulnerable, and leave us exposed.

The Darkness plans to use us. We are to do its bidding. I don't know how to stop it.

I detect no fear on the part of our nemesis. We aren't even a concern. We pose no threat.

The Darkness needs a reason to fear our Light, and I intend to provide it.

I have been inside. I have nothing but beautiful and violent words for my report. I will meet you at your throne.

This makes the entire Letters lore page entirely up for debate.

I believe these entries are connected and that both Fenchurch's hallucination after touching a piece of the Pyramid and Sjur's dream are telling us about the same future event that involves Eris, Mara and a destruction of a Pyramid ship. And I absolutely believe that we will see this at the end of the season, considering there's a downed Pyramid ship in Savathun's throne world. Other connecting details are very confusing for now and may have something to do with Savathun's involvement. After all, she also claims to be interested in fighting back the Black Fleet and ends up in possession of the Pyramid.

[willel]

Hello! So I know you aren’t a big fan of the kids ships but since it’s gonna be pretty much canon that both El and Will have feelings for Mike, what do you make of their respective relationships with him?

Hmmm.... I really don't know. :/ I guess I will ramble my thoughts in this very post and see what my heart says. I'll try not to complain, I promise.

To start off with, I watched season 1 and season 2 together innnn... 2017? Whenever season 2 came out. I hadn't heard of Stranger Things until then and then my mom and I decided to binge it together. Needless to say were were pretty surprised. I wanted to give this context because I was not in the fandom from the getgo, I was about a year and a half late.

By the time I got here, I feel like most people were already in their corners, but there didn't seem to be as much conflict back then as there is now. But that could just be me being oblivious. I don't read analysis on ships so if people have analyzed stuff about them, I wouldn't know. The ships are the last thing I think about when ranting about theories.

I'd also just like to get out of the way, I didn't really care for most of the kid ships until recently because well, they're kids. Their first loves, first relationships. They're bound to make mistakes and screw up. We've all been awkward teens so I have the upmost sympathy for all of them. I think it's immature to come down too harshly on any of them for silly reasons like this.

This season, Lumax has brought on the maturity I've been looking forward to and they are precious. So if there's a "kid ship" I ship now, it's them.

So onto the ships I suppose

Mike and El

They were obviously leading into this for season 1 at least so I wasn't surprised. I kinda didn't like that Mike just.. .kissed her you know. She didn't even know what a boyfriend or anything was. But again, he's just a kid himself so eh. Overall, it was sweet.

Um... I suppose I really really feel it from El's side especially. Mike was the first person in the scary outside world to be kind to her, gave her a safe place and everything. And in her own way, she felt obligated to repay his kindness and keep him safe from the "badmen" (refusing to let them tell his parents or they might get shot). She adores him and what he's done for her.

A part of me feels like it was initially too formulaic. The "fish out of water falls in love with the first man she sees" trope but I also feel like it's not that bad since it's not like Mike is a bad person or anything. He's legitimately a good guy so she lucked out on that one. If she didn't like him, she was fully capable of running again, especially back in season 1 (which she did for a split second)

She's also come in contact with many different boys and girls at this point so I'm sure it's not a matter of lack of options either, probably. She really likes Mike. So there's that.

Mike, lately... seems weirdly obsessed. It could be his fear of losing her, pretty sure he said that before, but he's gotta learn to rein it in. And it's a weird kind of obsessed to. Like obsessed enough to drop everything and everyone else to be with her and only her, but also not obsessed enough to tell her everything or that you love her? Teenagers make no sense.

But hey, I'm a lady who has never been in love or attracted to anyone so maybe this is just normal behavior for teenage boys sometimes, especially ones that are traumatized from a young age like he is.

Maybe there's a bit too much co-dependency that they'll have to work through if they ever hope to move past this hump they keep finding themselves in if that's even possible. Maybe they are too different or want different things? I dunno.

Mike and Will

Much like with Mike and El, I've also thought Mike and Will are sweet. Mike can be a very caring and honest person and very reliable. Will and El can be so timid, so I'm not surprised they both end up leaning on Mike who is not as timid and can be hot headed and take action to protect the people he cares about.

It gets really tricky here for me because without a doubt, I've never considered Will to be straight and it's clear Mike and Will have a very special relationship. But Mike... I dunno if the feelings go both ways.

Will really seems to adore Mike as friends and obviously in a romantic way too. But it very much bothers me that it gets ignored by Mike himself. You know? Maybe season 4 will address this but if I were Will, it would hurt me deep down that my friend and crush will only acknowledge me when his girlfriend has blown him off. Of only if he can actually see how upset I am after already trying to interact more civilly. I had a similar situation in middle school. In my case, it was platonic, but by best friend at the time ditched me to do some things with a guy. I didn't find out till later when she told me, but I was pretty sad about it and didn't say anything.

From Mike's side, I don't know what to make of it. Like I said, this constant trend of blowing Will off for his love life is pretty bothersome whether he considers Will just his friend or secretly likes him.

I don't really know what Mike feels regarding Will, definitely cares about him... but not enough to keep in touch properly? Or to play dnd one time out of the whole summer? Or talk to him at all for a whole day when he gets to California? I don't get his deal at all.

Mike is feeling a certain way towards Will for sure but I don't know what it is. It felt kinda hostile but I don't know why that would be. Maybe not hostile, but blasé? If they writers are intending to have Mike questioning his feelings regarding Will in the romantic sense, I don't like how they're doing it and shippers should push for better secret pining.

Like, we KNOW Will is pining because of all the looks and secret glances. I might've missed them, but I didn't see any slow camera pans of Mike staring wistfully at Will like they've been doing for Will lately.

[lumina-rose]

Tear You Apart

Chapter 3/4

AO3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32168824/chapters/80048179

Pairing:

Laszlo x Reader

Summary:

Mere months after the conclusion of the Beecham case, Dr.Kreizler and his associates are asked once again to solve a new series of murders that plague the streets of New York. They are joined by the alienist’s new assistant, who’s presence soon unravels startling revelations. Not only within the case, but also within the mind of one of their own.

(This story is set between the events of Season 1 and Season 2)

Warnings:

Murder Mystery, Graphic Description of Corpses, slight dark!Laszlo (kinda. Think Will “This is my design” Graham), Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Minor Violence, Friends to Lovers,Assistant, Boss/Employee Relationship,Tension, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining, Kidnapping, Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Abuse

(More Future Warnings TBD)

Notes: 

Adding an extra warning for this chapter, just in case.

This chapter deals with themes of violence, kidnapping, captivity, non-consensual touching, non-consensual groping, and implied abuse.

Chapter 3: Lily

Dr. Kreizler was not a man who considered himself superstitious.

Ever since he was a boy, he clung to his curiosity, searching for answers through science rather than religion in order to understand the world around him, even if it left his reputation tarnished to the more traditionally-raised, God-fearing socialites of New York. Yet, even as a child, there had always been a darkness that surrounded him, drawing in trouble wherever he went. No, Laszlo was not superstitious, but there seemed no other term to describe himself other than cursed.

You had been missing for two days, and even logic and reason could not explain why history seemed destined to repeat itself.

Following your night at the opera, Kreizler had thought it odd that you had not appeared at the Institute the following day. You had not seemed unwell, during your outing- quite the opposite, actually- and yet the fact remained that your presence was notably absent. At first, the alienist pushed his worry aside. After all, you had spent what was supposed to be a night of rest by his side. He reasoned that perhaps you had simply drained yourself, driving yourself to exhaustion with both the investigation and the concern you had displayed for him. But what truthfully unsettled him was the lack of warning of your absence. It was unlike you.

Regardless, even with your absence, Kreizler quickly worked through the day's sessions and duties, leaving most of the day free to continue working on the investigation. Your theory the day before had intrigued him, and gave valuable insight into what the killer's motives and background could be. With a newfound momentum, Laszlo called for Stevie, sending the ward to gather his colleagues here at the Institute, in order to follow this new train of thought. He also instructed Stevie to find you, deciding that it would be best to check on you, if only to calm his own anxieties. With that, all that was left to do was wait.

Marcus and Lucius were the first to arrive, punctual as always.  Not wishing to waste any time, the twins immediately went to discuss their new findings with the doctor, picking out bits of information that may be relevant to figuring out the killer's identity. Kreizler listened, drawing connections to their findings with the theory you had created. John was the next to arrive, quickly followed by Sara. The two had not had much to work with, in terms of narrowing down who the killer may be, but found a couple police reports and articles that had spoken about similar incidents. Laszlo nodded, giving his own opinions and comments occasionally, but his mind continued to drift elsewhere. He had pulled out his pocket watch, when he heard a new set of footsteps. Quickly, he looked up, only to see Stevie once again. Ushering the boy inside, he asked if he had found you.

"I tried, Dr. Kreizler, but I couldn't find her anywhere." Stevie explained. "Even went by the house a few times, but no one ever answered. Her door was locked, so I thought maybe she came back here."

Laszlo sighed, audibly upset by the news. "Right, thank you Stevie."

This caught the attention of everyone in the room. After the boy left the room, Sara turned to Laszlo.

"Has something happened?" She asked, sensing Laszlo's growing worry. "How long has she been missing?"

The alienist simply shook his head. "Since this morning. At first I thought I was simply overreacting, but now I'm not so sure..."

Saying his admission aloud, Laszlo realized how troubling the whole situation had seemed. He explained where you had been last night, and how Kreizler had made sure to get you home safely after the opera, only to find that you had not come to the Institute today. John stood up from his seat, sending a glance to Sara and the brothers. They stayed silent, throwing silent glances back and forth, as if talking through looks alone. Finally, Sara stepped forward.

"I believe we should go to her home, ourselves. If we find that she is safe, then we can continue our investigation."

"What're you saying?" Lucius interjected, stunned by Sara's proposal. "What would you have us do? Having the five of us show up unannounced to (y/n)'s home might be an overreaction, considering it hasn't even been a day."

"You may be right," Sara starts. "but I'd like to make sure nothing has happened to her. I won't be able to shed the guilt if the worst has come."

Laszlo's heart sank at her words, reminding him of the very same doubts and worries he had told you of the night before.

Moving quickly, Laszlo went to grab his jacket, placing it on as he spoke. "I'm going-"

Once more, Lucius was wary. "Dr. Kreizler-"

"-stay here if you must, Lucius." He turned, leaving no room for argument as he walked towards the exit.

Reluctantly, Lucius followed after Laszlo, with Marcus's hand on his shoulder. Sara and John were already standing, ready to leave with the doctor, the same memory of the Beecham case fresh in their mind. With that, it didn't take long for them to reach your home, a mere few blocks away from the Institute. It was a relatively small building, not like the towering apartments that surrounded it on either side. It was as though someone had taken a cottage from the countryside and placed it right on the streets of New York.

There were no lights on, by the windows. A fact that shouldn't have been strange, considering it was now late into the day. Even so, it caused a sense of looming dread to enter Laszlo's mind. It felt so similar when he had returned to his own home all those months ago, as though time was repeating itself. First with Mary, now with you. As the group called and knocked on your door, drawing the scrutinizing and curious stares of the people passing by, Laszlo concluded that he must have been cursed. How else could he explain the events unfolding? Truly, everyone that was drawn towards him seemed destined to either leave or be taken from him.

There had been one thing that gave him hope that it would be different.

With Mary, she had been a constant, comforting presence. What he felt towards her had not always been there, not until much later after their first interactions, but it had been a source of happiness and warmth. The feeling of being known so completely, without needing so much as a word being spoken. Mary had brought out a kindness in him that even he had feared he did not possess. It had been sweet and somewhat innocent love, regardless of the rather unusual dynamic.

With you, it was a similar feeling, but not entirely the same. Where his feelings for Mary were more subtle, there had always been an underlying want in his relationship with you. At first, it had simply been a need to understand you. How you could be so similar to him, sharing that same curiosity for the human mind, yet still be able to catch him by surprise with your insights. He wanted to know about you, every little detail. Learning what made you tick, what made you happy, and what parts of your mind you had not shown to anyone else. Yet, even that wasn't enough. It wasn't until much recently, had Laszlo deduced the source of this incessant need for you. Where his feelings for Mary had made him recognize the lighter side of him, you made him realize that perhaps the darkness there was deeper than he knew. But he welcomed that new feeling just as enthusiastically, after the events of the opera.

What he felt for Mary and for you were very different, but just as intense. He had hoped, foolishly, that those differences would change something. And yet it seemed as if history was playing out again, as it had before.

"Unlock the door."

Laszlo's words were met with hesitation by the group, before they noticed the clear distress in his expression. Marcus nodded, placing the bag he held down in front of the door, before crouching down to pick the lock. Once unlocked, Sara opened the door, leaning in through the frame to look inside. From what she could tell, the study and kitchen were empty, and she could hear no sounds of movement, even after she called your name. Slowly, one-by-one, the five of them entered your home.

"Marcus and I will check upstairs," Sara decided, earning a nod from the Isaacson brother. "I believe there are a few rooms further back."

As they split up inside the house, Laszlo found himself at a loss. Although he had stopped by a couple of times, he had never truly taken the time to examine the home. Outside of the paintings that decorated the walls and the furniture provided to you, the home was extremely bare. Only a handful of personal items were scattered about, as well as a couple of books he had given you to read. For each and every room the doctor passed, it dawned on him that you had not been exaggerating when you had told him you dropped everything to move to New York. He wondered just how much you had left behind.

"Dr. Kreizler!"

Marcus's voice called out, clearly alarmed, causing the air to still throughout the house. Rushing upstairs,  John, Lucius, and Laszlo all went to join Marcus and Sara, only stopping once they saw the man exit what appeared to be your bedroom. A small bouquet of roses in his hands.

You awoke with your eyes closed. The only thing grounding you to reality was the steady, throbbing pulse in the back of your head, causing a dull ache to pass over you with every beat. With a low groan, you blinked, as you thought about how rough work at the Institute was going to be, if this headache was going to plague you. As you shot up from the bed, letting out a painful cry, you went to raise your hand to you head. Only for them to be pulled back harshly, by a binding pressure against your wrists.

You blinked, and suddenly the pain in your head was in the back of your mind. Your eyes shot to your hands, ignoring the sting of the sudden action. A bundle of knots bound you, as a rope dug into your skin, leashing you to the unfamiliar bed frame behind you.

No. no. no no no. You thought in a panic, realizing the gravity of your current situation.

You took in your surroundings, seated on a small bed in the center of a room. There were no windows, and only a small lamp by the door lit the small space. The walls were bare, save for the portrait of a young woman. The only exit was a wooden door, with cracks forming from the bottom. Your heart racing, you tried to recall your memory of the events last night. What had happened to you? Where were you? Who brought you here?

You remembered the opera, and your pleasant time with Laszlo there, and how he had escorted you back to your home. So why couldn't you remember falling asleep there? Why were you still wearing the same dress you had spent hours deciding on? You had watched the carriage ride far out of sight, Stevie at the reins. You had opened the door to your home, without the use of your key, as it had been unlocked already.

Unlocked. Despite having purposefully locked it before leaving for the night.

"Stupid." Your breath hitched, as you cursed yourself for not noticing such a mistake. You hadn't even realized. Too giddy and tired from the emotional events of the opera.

Your heart raced, as you grew more and more frustrated, causing you to tug at your bindings. But no luck came. You thought back to what you did after entering your home. You had placed a few things down, before retiring to your bedroom, in order to change into your night clothes and sleep. But you never made it that far. In a sudden moment of clarity, a memory returned to you. You had sat down in front of your vanity mirror, before noticing a flash of red in the mirror. A bouquet of roses. Perhaps it was the fear and shock of the realization that the killer they’d been hunting had been in your home that caused you to lose consciousness. However, the pain in your head suggested otherwise.

Whatever the case was, you were now trapped in a room, after being taken from your home by the very person you had spent months trying to find. But aside from the distressing predicament of your kidnapping, what unsettled you most was the sudden deviation in behavior. If you truly had been taken by the killer you were searching for, why were you still alive? Why did he take you? What did he plan to do to you?

You didn't want to wait to find out, but found that you had little choice in the matter. No matter how many times you tugged and pulled at your bindings, the restraint never weakened. You had tried untying the knots on the bed frame, in hopes that you may be able to escape, even if your hands were tied together. The knots however, were tight and overlapping each other, and no amount of strength that you possessed could undo them. In desperation, you looked at the wooden door, knowing that it was all that stood between you and freedom. If you only could unbind your hands. But even if you had escaped, you didn't know where you were, or who's home you were in.

The answer didn't come till what felt like hours later. You had sat yourself up into a more comfortable position on the bed, where the rope would not pull at your now-aching wrists, and jumped as the wooden door suddenly opened.

Your heart leapt to your throat, and all you could seem to do was stare at the figure in the doorway. You were shocked. Your were speechless. You wanted to deny it, to try and lie to yourself by saying that he couldn't be the one who took you. That his presence here was merely some miraculous coincidence. But you weren't that naive. Still, never had you thought the same man who would regularly stop by your house could potentially be a murderer.

"Mr. Arnett." You breathed out, finally.

"Good evening, my dear." He greeted, his tone just as casual as any other time you had spoken. As though it was normal, to have you tied up in a room against your will.

As he stepped into the room, you found yourself growing more and more anxious with each of his steps. He had asked you something, a question you couldn't recall. You couldn't even find it within you to respond, knowing that anything you said might make your situation worse. If Arnett truly was the same man who’d been killing the women of New York, then it’s likely he’d have no issue using that same violence against you. Although, he had already changed his behavior, choosing to attack you in your own home, rather than on the street. That alone revealed that he was unpredictable.

"What..what am I doing here?" You asked, fearfully. You wanted your tone to come off as more questioning, rather than upset. You knew that if Laszlo’s theory was correct, the only reason you weren’t dead yet was because the fantasy behind the murders relied on your acceptance of the man. Still unsure of his intentions with you, you shuddered at the thought of letting the man do whatever he wanted.

"I'm taking care of you."

The vagueness of the answer, and the emptiness in his tone, as he spoke sent a wave of fear over you. The man took a step towards you, right next to the bed you were tied to. You sat up, moving away from him, by instinct. You had hardly noticed the tray Arnett had been carrying, until he placed it down on the foot of the bed. A wide assortment of fruits, breads, and foods were placed onto the tray, along with a single red rose. Taking a seat next to you, he lifted something off of the item.

"A strawberry, from my garden." He explained, as though that was the cause of your nervous behavior.

You didn’t feel hungry, but felt a sense of relief at the act. Only because that meant he didn’t plan on harming you…yet. Once more, he placed the strawberry up to your lips.

Arnett's jaw tensed, as he spoke again. This time he sounded as though he were trying to restrain himself. "You don't need to be afraid of me."

Afraid to anger him, you took a bite, before attempting to distance yourself from him further, if that were even possible at this point. He praised you for the action, as an owner would praise a pet. Bitterness rose from your chest, creating a bad taste in your mouth. Whether it was the fruit he gave you, or the reaction you had to his words, you weren't sure.

"See, I knew you'd be good," He spoke, condescendingly. "just like my Lily."

You swallowed back a grimace. "Lily?"

Arnett blinked, as if confused for a moment, before giving a forced chuckle. His eyes turned to the portrait in the room, of the young woman. "I must apologize, it's rather rude of me to compare you to my wife- ex-wife. "

He quickly corrected himself, before looking back at you, his eyes falling to your wrists. More specifically, the red burns on them, from your previous attempts at escape. He reached out, without warning, before scolding you profusely. He spoke only about how should be more careful, as to not harm yourself further. In your upset state, you didn't even think before instinctively ripping your hands from his hold, not wanting him to so much as touch you.

Arnett's almost-caring expression fell in an instant, before revealing an angered scowl. He grabbed your arms again, only now his grip was harsh and painful. There was no doubt in your mind that you would have bruises later.

"Don't do that." He hissed. "Don't you ever do that!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You gasped, shaking as you quickly apologized in an attempt to calm his sudden temper. Blinking, you searched for any excuse that might help you. "I'm sorry.. I.. It's inappropriate, I wasn't expecting you to.."

Once more, you cursed yourself for coming up with such a weak excuse. However, even as you closed your eyes, you felt the grip on your hand lose its hold. When you looked back at Arnett, his scowl had disappeared. He thought for a moment, before a slight smile crept over his lips.

"You don't need to worry about such things anymore, my dear." He sighed. "Now that you're here with me, you won't have to feign innocence for the sake of appearances. We can speak freely now."

As you stared into his eyes, you came to understand that in some twisted way, his mind had made up a lie: making him believe you held some form of silent connection with him. Twisting your interactions into subtle advances, when they had merely been polite conversations. Every small talk in the study of your home, he had taken it as a sign of reciprocated affections. Rather than what they were. And he truly believed that lie, which was what frightened you the most.

You were silent, as he ran a thumb over your injured hand. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, but you viewed it more as a threat. You knew that if you pulled your hands way, as you wanted to, you'd be met with more aggression. Eventually, his focus returned to the tray he had brought in, handing you the rose as he placed another fruit to your mouth. You were fighting back a mixture of emotions, as you attempted to process the situation. You wanted to snap, and tell him that he didn't need to feed you himself. You wanted kick and fight, if only to save your pride. But you knew that none of these actions would help you, and would more likely cause Arnett to harm you.

Instead, you tried to refocus your frustrations into questioning Arnett's plan for you.

"Mr. Arnett, I..I find myself at..at a loss as to why you've brought me here." You muttered, weakly. "Surely, it's not simply to 'speak freely', as you put it? I can't help but think there is another reason.."

The older man scoffed, as if surprised you even had to ask.

"Well, I've been left with no other choice, haven't I? You're forced to spend every day and night fretting over the little problems of a half-crazed alienist, who insists on keeping you by his side." He grit his teeth, looking  around the room for a moment. "But that no longer matters. You won’t need to worry anymore about Kreizler taking his liberties with you, my dear."

The bruising grasp on your hand returned. His voice and expression reflected anger, though it didn't seem directed at you this time. His eyes were still staring off at nothing in particular, and it seemed as though he wasn't even aware of the venom in his tone. Ignoring your pain for a moment, you feared what he meant, upon mentioning Laszlo. Was he merely speaking his suspicions out of a jealous delusion? Or had he known- had he seen- your actions with Laszlo at the opera last night?

You let out another pained gasp, causing Arnett to release his hold on you. This time, he stood up, staring down at you with regret and fear. Almost dejectedly, he grabbed the tray once more, and made his way back towards the wooden door. But not without looking back at the portrait once more.

"Lily was as delicate as you."

A time passed before the door opened again.

You had fought to stay awake, in order to try and defend yourself against Arnett, even though you were essentially at his mercy. But the reality was that you were exhausted. Not only physically, but mentally and emotionally. The stress of the case, Laszlo, and your own current situation had left you utterly broken. As sleep came for you, your eyes fogged with tears, as you thought back to the happiness you felt just a night before.

When you finally awoke, you heard a loud thud, as though something had fallen somewhere in the building you were being kept in. Your heart pounded, half hopeful and half afraid. The wooden door to the dim room opened, your heart sinking as you faced Arnett once more, his face red with anger as he began yelling out, seething with every breath.

"He comes to my place of work, accusing me!"

Arnett raves, red in the face, as he circles around the room. His sentences slur together, his words coming out faster than you can understand them. You sit up quickly, bracing yourself, as it's all you can do in the moment. The man's eyes were wide and his gaze flicked from place to place, as if searching for something as he continued to ramble on. You noticed how his hands were clenched, his fingernails digging into his palms and his knuckles becoming a white color. Fearing what he may do, you kept your mouth shut, hoping in vain that he might forget that you're there.

"-Slandering my name and reputation!” He heaved out a heavy breath, before his stare finally finds its destination on you.

Whatever pleasant facade the man placed on for you before was gone now, overcome by his anger. He rushed forwards, pushing you back against the headboard of the bed, placing a hand on your face, pressing hard on your cheeks and jaw. Startled, you froze, unable to even move, except for the trembling throughout your body.

"Who is he to you?" He demanded, an accusatory glare cutting through you.

You choked out a reply, asking who or what he was talking about. That only made his grip stronger, squeezing against your bones enough to make them ache.

“That damned Kreizler!” He spat. “Is he truly so dependent on you, that he cannot go a single day without you?! Is your company so enjoyable that he cannot help himself?”

Arnett’s words were spiteful and insulting. Not only towards Laszlo, but yourself as well. It seemed that while Arnett did not seem to know the extent of your relationship to the alienist, the suspicion was enough to drive him over the edge. You only feared what would happen, should he learn what occurred at the opera. As your mind raced with your thoughts, you hadn't noticed how your captor now moved over you, trapping you under him. His spare hand trailed over you, his glare burning holes into you as he grabbed at your form. Your mind went blank, and all you could hear was the heartbeat that now pulsed in your ears. You twisted and turned, biting into your cheek as your body moved on its own, trying to do anything to get him off of you. A quick slap stunned you, causing you to recoil from the force.

Still, Arnett seemed lost to his ramblings. “He claims himself a gentleman! Tell me, do you enjoy the attention he gives you? Perhaps I’ve been mistreating you, perhaps you enjoy the way he takes advantage of you-“

Mistreatment was an understatement, but you dared not speak your mind in this moment. The feeling of his spare hand pushing a trail up your leg sent a wave of disgust and fear through you. Desperately, you spoke, saying anything that came to mind, hoping to calm the clearly unhinged man.

“No, no Mr. Arnett, please!”

You cried, gasping as your throat seemed to close off on its own.

“You’re- you’re right! He’s- He’s not a gentlemen, not like you. Louis-“

You barely registered what you were saying, only focusing on pleading for your life. You continued, speaking whatever you thought the man would want to hear. As soon as they left your mouth, you hated every lie you spoke about Laszlo. How you were catering to Mr. Arnett’s sick fantasy. It seemed to work, however, as the man paused his assault on you. His grip on your chin lifted your gaze up to him, making you stare through tears to look him in the eye.

Your voice shook as you spoke, going on and on about how you were being mistreated and how Arnett was a gentlemen, as much as it pained you to do so. You empathized the phrase, hoping it might somehow make him stop. His actions were abhorrent, yet he seemed to pride himself on being the gentleman he had tricked you into believing he was. You played into Arnett's fantasy, making yourself appear as some damsel in need of saving and that Arnett was the man who would do it. All you could do was hope your words satisfied him.

His hand released its hold on your leg, but you did not allow yourself to sigh in relief. The hold on your chin disappeared, as he gently placed his palm against your cheek. A soft smile met his lips, yet his eyes remained vacant and cold. His voice was distant once more, as if remembering something.

“You truly are just like my Lily.” He pressed his lips against you, holding you there. You didn’t move. When he finally parted, he gave a reassuring smile, something meant to comfort you, before saying: “He won’t mistreat you anymore, my dear. I’ll make sure of it.”

The older man stood up, smoothing a hand over his suit, before turning from you. Your heart sank at his words, leaving you in despair even as he left the room. Pulling your legs up to your chest, you cried into the wrinkled fabric of your dress, muffling the sound in order to keep Arnett from hearing you.

It felt like years, as another day passed. Your heart ached along with your shoulders and wrists, as you stared blankly at the wooden door. There were moments when you asked yourself if this barren room would be the last thing you saw. If the painted, empty eyes of Lily Arnett would be staring down at you, as you joined her in death. But there was hope.

Arnett’s outburst had been sudden and terrifying. But in his state, he’d given you the knowledge that Laszlo and the others were close, already questioning the man. Already suspecting the truth. You just needed to keep him satisfied, until your friends could figure out how to find you. If they found you.

When the wooden door opened once more, Arnett was bringing in another tray of food and water for you. As he came into the light of the lamp, your attention was drawn to the cut along the man's temple. Given your situation, this shouldn't have surprised you, but in all the time you've known the man you’d never seen the man with even a scratch on him, despite the violent attacks he had carried out. Before your abduction, you knew the man to be of good standing in the eyes of society. Someone obsessed with his reputation as a proper gentleman. Someone who’d never be caught up in a fight, not one that would cause such a wound.

You ask what happened, less out of concern and more out of curiosity, desperately wanting to learn what you could about the events playing out in the world outside of the small room. Your words seemed to fall on deaf ears however, as Arnett silently approached, not answering you. Instead, he lifted the food for you to eat. Slowly, you took a bite, not wanting to upset him further. After finishing the bits fruit and bread he initially offered, you found yourself growing more and more restless, due to his unsettling silence. As he lifted another fruit to you, you turned your head slowly, until eventually you found yourself looking up at the woman in the portrait.

Twice now he had mentioned his late wife…Lily. Some deep-rooted part of you felt as though her death had not been some random accident or illness, given how Arnett had consistently been comparing the two of you. No… By now, you suspected that perhaps the poor woman had shared your fate, falling victim to her husband's erratic behavior.

You opened your mouth, your throat dry as you carefully said: “I…I realize I never asked about your wife, before. If it is not too upsetting, tell me, how… how did she pass?”

Arnett blinked, as if snapped from his silence. A vacant expression crossed over his face, sending a frightening chill through you. It was identical to the one Laszlo had at the morgue, as the alienist was trying to gain insight into the killer’s mind. You had trusted Laszlo, but it was different now. Now you looked that very killer in the eye.

“I believe I told you. She was delicate." He paused, staring you down, before glancing away quickly. "Now eat.”

A horrible pit in your stomach grew, as your mind raced to create images of what you suspected befell the late Mrs. Arnett.  If his lack of hesitation of using force against you was any indication…It was slowly becoming evident that perhaps she may have been the first. The catalyst that created the man you faced now. You swallow back the lump in your throat, speechless. In your shock, you had forgotten what Arnett had ordered you to do. It was too late to fix your mistake, as the man quickly took your silence as refusal. In an instant, the tray was shoved aside, slammed to the floor, as his form climbed over you.

"You ungrateful bitch!" His hands clamped down on your throat, using a strength that felt as though it would snap your life away at any second. You hands pulled down on the ropes, having enough length to allow you to claw at his grasp. “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me?"

You struggled for breath, your heartbeat becoming the only sound in your ears before a slam at the door snapped you from your panicked state. A voice- no, voices- spoke loudly. You didn’t process what was said, only that the weight of Arnett shifted. You found yourself placed between Arnett and the unknown parties, a sharp pressure against your neck. As you gathered your senses, you realized the pressure was a knife, one Arnett had kept hidden away. You weren't sure if he had it before, or if he had planned to use it against you before being interrupted.

John and Sara stood before you, the woman aiming a gun towards Arnett. Though, with you placed in between them, the weapon was also directed towards you. You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. If you weren’t so focused on the knife’s weight against you, your heart surely would have leapt with happiness. They had found you! But the confrontation was not over.

"You have no right, breaking in here!” Arnett seethed. “I’ll have you arrested!”

Sara was quick to respond, not even flinching from his words. “Call them if you like, but I doubt the police would be interested with us, upon finding a woman unwillingly locked up on your property.”

Arnett shook his head, his breath coming out in heavy exhales. His voice was shaking. Out of anger, fear, and confusion. “No, you’re wrong! She..she wants to be here! Tell them!”

The knife pressed harder against you, as Arnett whispered unintelligible words against your ear. You gasped, closing your eyes, as if everything would disappear if you didn't watch. Another sound of footsteps grabbed your attention, forcing you to look up once more. A third figure emerged through the door, joining John and Sara. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, upon seeing the tense stand-off between them and Arnett. With you at the center.

“Laszlo!” You called, the name falling from your mouth before you could stop it.

A vice grip found the back of your neck, making you gasp in pain. His whisper was erratic but you could just make out: "How dare you say his name in front of me-"

The knife pressed harder, a small sting followed by a warm trickling feeling. His cheek pressed against your ear, speaking lowly. “Tell them you want to be here. With me.”Another pause of silence made him seethe. "Answer me, Lily!”

Arnett’s grip on reality, whatever remained, was slipping as the scene played out before you. Still, you refused. Laszlo was here, They were all here! You were so close to freedom that you couldn't bare the thought of him taking it away. Tears reached your eyes, as you glanced at the faces you've grown to know.

“There’s no where to go, Mr. Arnett.” Sara said, regaining your attention. She looked back at you, rather than your captor. She looked unsure, as she aimed her gun toward the two of you, in contrast to her confident words. “If you truly care for her, as I suspect you do, then let her go.”

“No, nonono..” Arnett’s breaths became erratic. “She belongs with me! Tell them, my dear, now.”

Still you remain silent, biting back a cry.

Arnett snapped, cursing you, as the knife lifted for a moment, before turning fully towards you, intended to pierce your throat. In that split moment, you heard the loud blast of gunfire, followed by the metallic smell of gunpowder. A ringing overtook your senses, followed closely by a burning in your shoulder.

Then...

thud

thud

thud

Your heartbeat signaled to you that you were alive, but you couldn't help yourself but think it was a trick. One last cruel joke for the entertainment of a higher power.

Your mind and vision seemed to blur, as each passing moment came by in flashes. You no longer felt Arnetts breath against your ear, yet the intense pain in your shoulder remained. You felt a pair of arms reach around you, as the restraining pull of ropes on your wrists disappeared. The cool breeze of air hit your face at some point, before the rest faded away to darkness.

[mrsandypants]

BL ~ Drama Asks

Awwww. @gunsatthaphan happened to tag little old me?! Doreen you sweetie pie pumpkin!! You're too cuuute. 😭 I love these little tag games, although I'm not the best with expressing myself. Let's give it a go~!  

1. If you had to watch one drama forever what would it be? Oh dear goodness. If it were on a loop, I'm unsure I could handle most things, but if it's the only drama I'm allowed to watch for the foreseeable future... Maybe Not Me? I think there's just something equally wholesome and real but also action-y enough to hold my attention in the long term.

 

2. If you could change the ending of a drama which one would it be? Gaya Sa Pelikula's is one of those dramas where I loved the story, as it was believable but gosh do I wish they could at the very least give an extended ending or second season... I honestly think it ended well enough... but to believe that 'oh time has passed, everything is okay all of a sudden and they are together maybe?'... I dunno about that. I would have preferred it to end where both parties split up and it was left to the imagination or a second season... That's all.

3. Name your favorite drama and tell who your favorite character was. Ooooh. Favourite drama. I can't point at one and go AHA that was my all-time favourite. But I really do genuinely love Semantic Error in one of those kitschy 'Well aww... That was kinda cute'. Soft drama ways... It's something I could show to someone that's not necessarily ready or willing to go through how toxic some Thai or Taiwanese dramas can get. Let's just say it's safe to show random friends so I quite like it. If we're just talking about something I love for the sake of the actors / characters / etc... Maybe Why R U? But I think I'm just a low-key hoe for Zee's characters and that was a classic for me. Pfft. Who knows.

4. Name a drama you dropped within the first few episodes ~ we all have at least one! I never like dropping a series, I usually at least give it a solid go, but something more recent I have just yet to return to would be La Cuisine... I'm not even entirely sure why... It just felt a bit slow to me? I would always be down for someone to tell me just give it another go, but for the time being I've been on the fence. Another show I just had to stop for a prolonged period of time was 'The Tuxedo'. I did eventually find it in myself to see it through but gosh that series felt like a crash and burn... I could not find a likeable character trait for most of the cast... Insert deep sigh here.

5. Name a popular drama you've never watched and why? Honestly? I feel like I'm calling myself out here but I've never actually watched 'My Engineer'. I've seen Perth do a sort of skim over his portions of the show but I never gave it a proper watch. I just need someone to shove it at my face I suppose. I want to want to see it but I feel like the excitement train had already passed and there is no foreseeable second season...

6. Name a drama you regret watching. Oh gosh, I feel like this is a rough question... I suppose 'Enchante'' would be up there... I don't think I would have gotten through that one without a friend watching with me. I'm not the biggest fan of the reverse harem concept, especially when every character has some 'hidden reason' to be a scumbag leading one character on. Something just doesn't sit right with me in that series. There were cute moments from time to time but under a lot of painful plot I just didn't find enjoyable? I don't know... It's just not my cuppa. Oh and perhaps 'Color Rush 2'... I just have no idea what was going on with that entire plot. I also feel like scrapping Hwall's character entirely was a bad move. I think they should have just stopped at the first season if I'm going to be completely honest.

7. Name a drama you thought you’d never watch but did and did you end up liking it? One that comes to mind is 'Blueming'. I kept hearing about it but I don't generally 'reach' for K-BLs. I more often than not wind up liking them so I don't know why I find myself so hesitant. All of that being said, I really did love that series. It was soft and had some lovely little scenes that I found quite memorable. I dunno. I'm a sucker for cute. What can I say.

8. Name a pairing you want to see? Oooh... see, I really don't think I could answer this in all honesty. I don't find myself actively shipping out characters or actors that are not already in fictional relationships. So I'm sorry but I will have to skip over this one.

 

9. Name a pairing you didn’t think had chemistry? I genuinely hate saying this, but please give the BillySeng pair another shot *outside* of 'Secret Crush On You'... I was struggling with this series. It was a hot mess. I do not enjoy stalking behaviour shown as a cutesy trait. No. For that reason I think I just could not get behind this pairing. Maybe in another drama I could give it a shot but under these circumstances, it's a no-go for me.

10. Name a pairing you have seen in another drama that you like? I know it's recent and all over but gosh I really did love Bible and Build as VegasPete in KinnPorsche. That was the most toxic ride but jeez did they have on screen chemistry. I would love to see them do something a bit more soft in the future... Especially under a different company... (I do not like the things I've read regarding the entire cast's treatment...) But yeah. I quite enjoy them as actors! Please pass them some fluff next time though? I'm sure Bible can do fluff if you give him the chance. Build has fluffy bunny written all over him already so that wouldn't be too hard. 😊

You absolute sweetie pie pumpkin, thank you for the tag. This was a hoot~ I don't often do these, but I do love hearing everyone else's opinions. 😊 I would love to see these wonderful nuggets take a crack at this in their free time if they so choose~ But don't feel pressured to!! Just would love to see! If anyone else happens to come across this as well, please feel free to give it a go and let me know!

@musicalgrl @maklineluv

[cogentranting]

Some Jupiter’s Legacy George/Skyfox theories. Spoilers for the entire first season. 

I’m thinking/hoping that George genuinely is not the villain he’s made out to be. 

I think that Walter orchestrated the events that split the Union in order to get the rest of the Union to turn on George. 

We’re not given hardly any details about George’s defection. Some broad generalities about no longer believing in the Code. A few sweeping statements about him being the greatest Supervillain of all time, and the Union’s greatest enemy. But it’s unclear how much time they actually spent facing him. And there are a lot of details missing. 

But we do have Hutch saying that, according to his mom, it was the Union that betrayed George. So there’s definitely something more to unpack there. 

And then the flashbacks heavily emphasize the conflict between George and Walter. And mostly that plays as two fundamentally good, decent men who just do not get along. With Walter, you sympathize; he’s trying to protect his family and no one listens to him even when he’s making the smart play. Everyone listens to Sheldon over him even when Sheldon is sorta crazy. And you can see how he sorta got over all that, but now its those same issues coming back to make him turn now, that same jealousy that George called him out on back in the 30s. Walter knows what has to happen, Walter knows the smart play, but everyone follows Sheldon, not him so he’s finally gonna do something to dethrone Sheldon. But one of the main things that made Walter more sympathetic than not was the idea that eventually he figured it out. Eventually he’d be loving Uncle Walter, who is by the far the most sensible, patient, empathetic member of the Union. Except that we learn he’s not. 

George on the other hand presents this very entitled, shallow playboy facade and seems to be the one picking fights with Walter more than the other way around. But. The flashbacks repeatedly hit on this other side to George, to show that right underneath that facade is someone very caring, sensitive and empathetic. People just have a hard time seeing it. He makes sure his staff is well taken care of when he loses his money and has to fire them. He opens up to Sheldon about losing his parents and is the one to get through to Sheldon in his grief. He’s the first one to have faith in Sheldon’s visions and goes along with it even when he doesn’t fully believe because he thinks that’s what Sheldon needs. He’s the one who’s mostly responsible for convincing the others to come on the trip to the Island (which makes me wonder if Sheldon’s eroding leadership isn’t mainly because George isn’t there to get other’s to belive in him anymore). He talks about reaching out and trying to connect with Walter multiple times in their past and getting shut down. When they have to each put their hand on the wall to open the portal, its primarily Walter who is the issue, George is one of the first to activate the wall, and while Walter’s addition briefly throws him off, he pretty much instantly is able to push past that, while Walter struggles. When they’re talking about what person they’ve lost they would most want to see, George talks pretty openly about what he would do to see his mother again and it’s Walter who won’t open up at all, who never offers an answer. In fact George’s relationship with his mother is made a point of several times. It’s key to his characterization and its framed around a simple desire to say goodbye to her. Just craving connection and closure. In contrast Walter’s key relationship is to is father and that is framed around wanting to be the favorite child, wanting to be listened to and taken seriously. Walter’s is somewhat bitter and resentful. At its core George’s is childlike. But for most of the season, George’s characterization is colored by what we know (or think we know) from the present-- that eventually George is corrupted and turns on them all. So, it seems, his entitled, vain, reckless side won out in the end. 

Two men with shared relationships, each with two sides to them. George is either conniving and entitled, or loyal and empathetic. Walter is either jealous and controlling, or thoughtful and protective. And all along through the season their present characterization seems to tell us which of the sides won out eventually. George became a villain. Walter became the wisest most trusted member of the Union. But in the end the latter is revealed to be a lie. Walter’s jealousy and desire to control everyone else is stronger than ever to the point that is killing people and has turned on his own brother. And he’s framing George for it. 

It’s possible that the same happened with George. That the two being in conflict with each other for years drove them both to become their worst selves. But it seems more like we’re going to see a total reversal of what was initially established. That George is the one who’s better half won out. But that Walter framed him and convinced the rest of the Union members to turn on him (he’s a mind reader and can manipulate them to an extent as well, it wouldn’t be hard for him). 

Which could mean that the reason George can’t be found is not because he’s hidden himself so well, but because he’s been trapped somewhere by Walter. 

Three additional notes:  1. it may be that Walter turned everyone against George unfairly initially and THEN he kinda turned evil because of it, but his lack of presence in the modern story and the lack of details surrounding his villainy makes me lean away from it 2. The idea that he abandoned Hutch is, I think, important. Because so much of his 30s characterization revolves around being orphaned and never getting that closure with his parents, it seems out of character that he would then abandon his son. (or it’s evidence of how far he’s fallen that he’s become the thing that hurt him most).  3. It doesn’t seem like Walter has been evil for a long time, I think his full turn is very recent. Meaning anything he did to frame or trap George is about the grudge between those two personally, more than being part of a some grand scheme. However, he could have done other smaller scale things in the past that he’s hidden. 

[saint-eridell]

A Silent Prayer (Midoriya Izuku/F!Reader)

I… honestly don't know how this happened. The words just kinda came out. I didn't start out intending to write a slow burn saga, but that's apparently what my brain decided to do with it. Might continue the series at some point, to be honest; this whole universe has its hooks into me.

Collab piece for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​'s Citrus Dome server collaboration. 15k, completed, proofread, no beta. Pairings: Dryad!Midoriya Izuku/Human!Reader, Human!Toshinori Yagi/Dryad!Midoriya Inko Prompt: Gods Content warnings: Background character death, non-con (very brief, not explicit)

Read on AO3

Quick Guide (ctrl-F to jump)

Prologue

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

---

Prologue

Your village's clearing, while spacious enough to afford room for a small population, is essentially cut off from the outside world by the dense verdant wall that circles it on all sides. One of two paths out leads toward a well-maintained temple where the locals (and rare traveler) leave offerings to the Fae that populate the forest, and one leads out to the nearest trading post… which lies a week's away ride on a speedy horse. This clearing of hand-built homes and ancient looking shops is the only thing you've known. Your studies as a temple attendant began young, before you could even comprehend what you were training to do, and have kept you attached to the village with zero chance of travel.

That has suited you just fine so far. From what the hunters talk about seeing in the forest… you'd rather stay alive than "sightsee".

The first thing you're taught in your village is to respect the forest. Even the youngest of your people know not to step in Fae circles, or follow strange sets of eyes in the dark, or listen to any voices that come trickling out of the treeline on quiet nights. The Fae could be immensely giving, but they're fickle creatures on a good day and absolutely dangerous at their worst. Contact with any roaming Fae, regardless of the type or how friendly it seems, has long been banned among your people. Your job as an attendant, despite a common misconception that you have direct contact with beasts and monsters, is to maintain the temple, greet travelers, and meditate among the many gardens built within the temple walls.

Worship is a part of your daily routine. Each season you place the fruits of your labor at the altar. Every day you pray. It’s human nature, seeking answers from the Gods.

But you never expected one to answer… much less three times.

---

Part 1

The first time is after a terrible fire that razes half of the village during your first year of training. A roaming wyvern tears through the fields surrounding its back half in a fury, razing an entire cluster of homes and over half of the summer crops already suffering through a prolonged drought. The village finds itself in disarray amid the smoldering remains: one half wants to burn the temple in retaliation, seeing the wyvern as an omen that some Fae lord is on the warpath, while the other seeks to gather what remained of the crops as one final beseechment to whoever or whatever they'd angered.

Having just been initiated, your young mind goes directly to one of your first lessons: true offerings are of the heart. In your barely school age mind, that means offering something that means a lot to you. After some consideration you narrow it down - your favorite doll, a gift from a mother you never had the chance to know - and take it to the temple. You find a quiet altar to lay the doll down upon, and as soon as you find your knees to begin praying before it you catch sight of a boy hovering behind the marble pedestal.

His head is wrapped in emerald linen, but it rounds off enough to suggest there's densely packed hair underneath. A single curl peeks out at the center of his forehead, somehow even deeper than the rich dyed fabric over it, its point resting between huge green eyes that seem to peer right down to your very soul. It would be eerie if he wasn't smiling at you with a gap where one tooth should be, a bright beam of sunshine in an otherwise rather gloomy marble-lined room.

"Is that a doll?" he asks, and his voice chirps with the same excitement of the first few birds that poke out of the melting winter snow. You nod, frozen with trained hesitation that wars with your naive curiosity - he doesn't look familiar, nor does he look like the child of anyone who had recently come through the village. But he doesn't look dangerous to you. He's barely as tall as you, and he smiles too nice to be a threat… right? 

You open your mouth to call for your matron but the boy holds both hands up suddenly, his eyes somehow widening even further with a bolt of fear. "Wait," he whispers. "I'm not supposed to be here. I heard people praying and snuck away from my mother." He tilts his head. "Did you sneak away from your mom, too?"

You shake your head in response. "I live here," you explain quietly, matching his hushed tone. "I'll work in the temple one day. I came here to offer my doll so our fields will come back."

The boy's face splits into a grin. "Does that mean I'll get to see you again?"

You aren't given time to answer: a sharp voice echoes into the room from somewhere beyond the open door, growing louder by the second as someone approaches. You turn your head to listen until a quiet shuffling brings your attention back to the boy, who's moved around the altar and taken the doll in one hand. He quickly tugs off the linen wrap covering his head and thrusts it toward you. You struggle to grasp it, shocked by a pair of tiny antler nubs that poke through the curls on the top of the boy’s head... or Fae’s rather. There’s no mistaking the point of his upper ears. "Here," he whispers urgently. "It's my favorite, so be careful with it. Wrap it around some ashes from your burned crops and bury it in the middle of the field." He waves as he steps back with another one of those beaming smiles, your doll clutched tight to his chest. "I promise I'll keep your doll safe. Maybe we can play next time!"

You blink, and as quick as he appeared he's gone. Matron Elspeth, a short and round woman with more than enough years in the temple to justify her limited patience (and the woman in charge of your temple training), appears behind you the second he’s gone. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she snaps as she grabs you by the upper arm and hauls you toward the door. “We’re convening the-

You dig your heels into the floor. “Wait!” you exclaim with all the assertiveness your tiny voice can muster. “I have something!”

The matron stops to glare down at you. You hold up the linen like it’s a prized tapestry. “A boy appeared in here and gave this to me. I brought my doll as an offering and he gave this to me.”

The matron’s brows knit deep between her eyes. “And you took it?”

You nod eagerly, but you aren’t prepared to see such a terrifying old woman blanch like she just witnessed a murder. She stops you both in the hallway, all sense of urgency abandoned, a wrinkled hand held to the wall as she breathes out a long, ragged sigh. “Oh, child,” she murmurs. “I don’t think you realize what you’ve just done.” She gives you a smile that’s softer than anything you’ve ever seen from her, and it’s disarming enough to have you stunned silent. Isn’t she supposed to be rapping you across the knuckles with her willow switch? “He was Fae, wasn’t he?”

You nod slowly, your excitement slowly twisting into pangs of dread. “I didn’t give him my name,” you burst out after a sudden realization - of course she’s worried, she thinks you just signed yourself away to the forest. What was the first thing she’d taught you? You wave your hands in front of you defenselessly, the scarf flapping back and forth. “I only said the doll was my favorite, and that I’d brought it as an offering. He said this headscarf was his favorite and that I should bury it in the field wrapped around some ashes from the crops and -”

“Eeeeeeasy,” Elspeth chides gently. She lowers herself to a knee to put herself on eye level with you, both hands wrapped around your shoulders. “You did the right thing. I wouldn’t have expected someone so small to learn our ways as quickly as you have.” She holds her hand out for the scarf and you hand it over. She turns it over gently, running her fingers over the seams with a pensive hum. “And you say he told you to bury it?”

“In the field, wrapped around ashes from the burned crops."

“And you absolutely did not give him your name?”

You shake your head fervently. “He didn’t even ask for it.”

Elspeth’s frown deepens. “Curious.” She rises slowly to her feet with a wince as both knees audibly crack under her shifting weight. You grab her arm to help her stay upright as she rests a hand on the wall once again with a low groan. “I’m getting too old for this,” she grouses. “You need to hurry up and grow already so I can hand off the robes.” Her wrinkled hand takes one of yours as she leads the way toward the temple’s main hall. “Tell me more about the boy.”

You go through everything you can remember - same height, pale freckled skin, lots of green curls, big eyes… “Oh, and horns,” you add on.

Elspeth stops you both at the end of the last hall. Several groups of people in various temple garb hover in the large foyer beyond, but your matron turns your back to them with both hands on your shoulders. She bends low at the waist to stare you down from only a few inches away. “Horns?” she hisses.

You nod, confused by the sudden change in her demeanor. “Tiny ones,” you reply. “Like when the young bucks grow their first set at the beginning of summer. I didn’t see them or his ears until after he gave me his scarf.”

Elspeth goes quiet for several seconds, her gaze averted to the throng behind you, and just as you open your mouth to question if she’s okay she’s steering you around and through the crowd with a purpose. “We need to speak to the temple Ascendant,” she urges quietly. “This is beyond both of us now, little one.”

---

Part 2

You hadn’t been approached by just any run-of-the-mill forest creature. If you really had experienced the entire moment (which the linen basically proved without a shadow of a doubt despite your own dumbfounded disbelief), you’d come across a young dryad. Or rather, he’d found you, which is an incredible occurrence in itself: dryads are known for being among the most reclusive of Fae, preferring to live in their heavily altered pockets of the forest where only their kind can survive. According to the ancient lore they’re protectors of a vast plane beyond the one humans live in, a vanguard of Fae hidden among life-providing vegetation and deceptively thick forest floor in wait for someone or something to come along and threaten their territory. The tomes in the temple library are filled with tales from “survivors” of attacks by wandering dryads, all telling of razor sharp teeth and sickly green skin and a heathenly worship of the old gods that on its own warrants avoiding them at all costs.

But in the whirlwind following your encounter with the young Fae, something becomes glaringly obvious: no one wants to talk about who had provided the linen that saved them all, despite it successfully bringing back their fields during a single earth-shaking rainstorm and assuring a solid harvest that would more than provide through the winter. All the villagers flock to the temple with offerings by the basket, but no one wants to acknowledge who had actually saved them. That reality sticks with you like a sharp thorn, as does the dryad boy’s hauntingly sweet voice as you grow older within the temple walls, your studies growing more intense by the year. By the time you reach adulthood, you’re actively involved with just about every aspect of temple life. You’ve grown popular among your fellow attendants and the temple-goers alike, even the ones who seem reluctant to be there at all. Your easy-going demeanor and disarming smile is able to diffuse even the staunchest of cynicism. You have, for all intents, and purposes, become the shining example of everything Matron Elspeth raised you to be. Nothing in this world makes you prouder than knowing you're on the way to earning her robes… and maybe, at some time in the future, the temple Ascendant's.

You remain faithful to your doctrine, but in the dead of night every full moon you pray that he’ll come back. You’ve had years to think about it: if you give him a “given” name, he’ll have to use that. It’s not yours, so he won’t own you. Dryads are attracted to beehives, presumably for the same reason pixies are attracted to berry bushes (an almost impulsive sweet tooth) so you’re ready with a clump of the temple’s finest honeycomb every time the moon reaches its largest point.

But despite your increasingly saddened prayers and offers over the years, no sign of him or any other dryads appear. There are rumors of the occasional peculiar looking traveler with big green eyes, but your temple work prevents you from wandering into the village unless it’s on a designated supply pickup day. Elspeth tells you to forget him and focus on your studies every time she catches you quietly moping: “We can’t have our future Ascendant being wooed away by some doe-eyed boy, regardless of if he’s human or not.”

On the evening after your confirmation and the following party, once you’ve returned from the village and gathered up your usual prayer supplies, you make your way to your favorite altar in the temple as the moon finds its highest point in the sky above. The room’s roof has been removed to give a full view of the sky for astral worship, but you prefer it for the way it allows moonlight to fill the center with a skirt of fading dark that swallows the edges of the room. It’s easier to focus here, to lay yourself bare before whatever force that lays beyond the clearing’s edge and let it speak through the beams of light emanating from above.

Elspeth disapproves of your “fixation”, but doesn't argue back when you request privacy for the rest of the evening. Your birthday this present is in the form of your matron keeping all wandering staff away from your prayer room, and that seems perfectly fair to you. You’ve already made plans to repay her empathy with a few of her favorite lemon pastries.

You lay out the contents of the basket hanging from your arm across the marble altar’s polished surface: green and gold candles, several lengths of high quality gold pendant chain, a large bowl of fresh, sticky honeycomb and an ornate goblet full of a rare winterberry mead you were given by the lead hunter’s son (“For the day you get free of that prison and decide to marry”, he’d boasted... his mistake, you’re keeping the mead and he can choke on the cork).

In the center goes a hand-sized velvet pillow upon which you set an emerald big enough to fill your palm. It had taken three years to save up enough for it, but in your eyes it’s the best thing you’ve ever bought. The moonlight dancing off the lines of the gem’s depths flicker and dance exactly like the Fae’s eyes had so many years ago. You pause to take in the sight, transfixed by the shifting planes that white themselves out before immediately shifting to deep green and then to inky black when you tilt your head.

A slight breeze rattling through the room snaps you from your reverie. You glance upward where the moon hangs directly overhead, a wide white circle set deep into an array of scattered stars and inky skyspace beyond. A vivid memory of pale skin dotted with freckles flashes across your mind’s eye and you have to force yourself to redirect to the present, shaking your head hard as the breeze fades away. “Focus,” you murmur to yourself. You don’t have long before the moon will move away from the center of the open roof.

Once the candles are lit, several cones of musky incense set into miniature cauldrons come next, wisps of pungent smoke permeating every dark corner of the room within seconds. You kneel before the altar once everything is in place with your plain white robes folding neatly under you. As you take your first deep breath, the incense fills your nose and drowns out anything beyond it; a hazy blanket hovers thick and heavy in your sinuses, even after you exhale.

This is an easy process for you. You've long mastered how to find your own meditative headspace through years of disciplined practice. You let the chirping of bugs beyond the temple echo around your ears, your breathing slow and light. You tilt your closed eyes up toward where you can vaguely tell the glow of the moon is strongest. "I have no crisis," you say in your head. "I seek no power, no glory, no riches. I only wish to see my friend again." A deep sense of peace radiates down to your bones as you let out a slow breath. The entire room comes to a standstill, even the wind seemingly reverent of your descent toward the lowest floor of your headspace. If you go any further, you feel like you could slip right through the floor.

"We're friends, eh?"

Your eyes fly open as a shriek tears through you, every semblance of calm shattered. You kick yourself backward and the cushion you'd been kneeling on flying forward to bounce off the ornate carving set into the front of the pedestal. You skitter in the opposite direction, prepared to take off running down the hall and find the first guard you come across, when you stop dead with your hands planted to the cold marble floor.

It's him.

The dryad boy is standing in the same spot he'd appeared in last time, smiling at you with that same beaming grin. Or… it looks like him, at least. He's taller now, but he still looks to be around your height, maybe just an inch or so taller. It's obvious he's been up to something strenuous: his tunic sleeves cut off around defined upper arms, where you can spot an array of thin scars set into his pale, freckled skin. He's dressed in emerald traveler garb, a linen wrap identical to the one he'd given wrapped loosely around his neck, and as you look further up you choke on a gasp.

You hadn't been hallucinating all those years ago. The tiny antler nubs he'd been sporting before have grown fivefold and now branch over his head in tall, proud spikes that circle his hair like a jagged halo. He seems to catch what your eyes lock onto and he dips his head, a scarred hand reaching to clutch at the fabric draped around his neck like he wants to throw it up over his head. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, and you're immediately floored by how achingly familiar the lilt of his voice is. You've heard it in your dreams enough to know it's him. "I didn't mean to scare you that bad."

You push yourself up to your feet with an indignant huff. "Scare me that bad?" you grumble back as you dust yourself off and right your robes.

He laughs again, light as air. Your anger slips away at the sound despite your best attempt to hold onto it. You're not some shrinking violet, dammit. "I had to take the opportunity when it presented itself," he replies through a fond smile. "Couldn't help myself."

You huff your disapproval, which gets you another chuckle. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he says as he takes a step forward with his hands raised in a show of surrender. "No more scares, I promise." He fixes you with another beaming smile. "Happy birthday. I'm here now."

Your heart flips sideways into your ribs. He'd really heard you. But if he could hear you tonight…

"Why didn't you come any other time I prayed?" you ask before you can consider the implications of your query. You slap a hand over your mouth. "I'm sorry," you say quickly from behind your palm. "I don't mean to say I expected you to listen or appear, I just…"

The dryad fixes you with a concerned frown. "You just what?" he asks back without a trace of anger, which catches you off guard. "I'm not gonna cut your tongue out or anything. You didn't offend me."

You let out your held breath in one hard burst. Thank every god in existence. You pause, waiting to make sure he really isn't angry and just playing head games, then proceed with only a tiny tremble: "I just hoped you would."

Something akin to pain dances across his face and you immediately regret your admission for reasons you can't quite figure out. "I'm sorry," you exclaim again, but he holds up a finger before you can try to babble through a reason why.

"It's not easy for my kind to survive here," he says with a solemnity that draws the entire room to a standstill. "The air is too dry for ones who haven't acclimated to it. I'll admit, the first time I tried I got incredibly sick upon returning home." His gaze flicks to the span of marble between your feet. "But I've been practicing. I should be able to stay a few hours now." He finds your eye again and the sincerity behind them smashes into you like a cannonball. How could anyone ever say his kind are hideous? Is it the antlers? 

"If you'll have me, that is."

Oh gods above, below, and in gran's cookbooks. "Of course," you breathe back without hesitation.

His smile returns, wide and genuine, bright enough to narrow the room to just him alone. "I was hoping you would say that." He bows politely, his traveler's cloak brushing the floor as it sweeps back. "I'm sorry, I didn't have a chance to introduce myself before. May I have your name?"

A caustic jolt rushes up the length of your spine. Every hair on your body raises at the root as you cut a glare in his direction. Oh no no no, you didn't go through an entire childhood of Matron Elspeth's lectures to fall for his ruses that easily, no matter how hard he makes your stomach flutter. "No you may not," you say back with practiced ease. He sits up abruptly to give you another wounded look, but you're too on guard for it to work. "I'm sorry." You really aren't.

He huffs a laugh. "Fair play. I should have known better. May I have a name to address you by?"

You've trained for this your entire life. In no way is he going to get you. "No you may not," you say again. "But I was born under a sparrow's first nest." A meaningless fact that would at least lead him toward something you'll answer to without naming you directly. Elspeth is going to be so proud.

He hums, seemingly picking up your subtle lead. "Sparrow, then," he confirms. "It suits you."

You clear your throat as the collar of your robe shifts against your reddening neck. You can't hold eye contact and keep your flush contained so you opt for the former while your hands clasp respectfully behind your back. You're an anointed temple servant. You won't be reduced to a pile of girlish mush in your own temple. "Thank you," you reply with a polite bow. "And is there a known name I may refer to you by?"

"Deku," he chirps back. "You could have just asked. I'm not as picky with my known name as you humans seem to be."

You straighten up with a placid smile. "Can you blame me?"

Deku shrugs. "I mean, a little," he replies with an honesty that almost knocks you backward again. "I've seen the records humans keep on us. The way your "beastmasters" talk makes us sound like feral crypt monsters." 

You catch the bitterness in his tone and squirm on the spot. You hadn't meant any insult. "We've had a lot of people killed by dryads over the years," you reply as gently as you can. "And even more that have disappeared around the same time one was seen. The people here are just fearful."

"Fear doesn't excuse ignorance." His jaw flexes and your frame draws tight with tension. He takes a slow breath as he pauses, and his anger visibly recedes. "But you haven't taken off running yet, so I guess it's safe to assume you're not as ignorant as the others."

Your voice drops to a murmur when you respond. "I remember what you did for us. We would have starved the winter after that fire if you hadn't brought our crops back."

"Thank my dad for that. It was his idea. He couldn't make the trip himself, so he sent my mom and I with instructions."

The pieces click into place with a weight that knocks the wind from your lungs. Deku watches you ponder as he steps around the altar and perches on its edge. "You didn't just save us. You risked your life to do it. But… why?"

"Because you asked me to-" He plucks the goblet and gives it an appreciative sniff. "-And you brought a worthy offering to go with it." He sips the mulled wine with a deep groan of approval. At least the idiot who'd been hitting on you throughout the entire celebration has good taste in booze. "Winterberries?" You nod, and he takes a longer sip before offering you the goblet. You take it with pride as he traces his thumb over his lower lip to catch a stray drop (don't stare don't stare don't stare don't stare). "Gods, this is fantastic. I hope your meadery has put in offerings, because they deserve whatever they were asking for."

You go to take a sip as he continues his praise, but another bolt of anxiety keeps you from raising the cup all the way to your lips. This isn't a directly outlawed interaction (you can't recall a rule that says you're not allowed to share an offering, as far as you can remember); however, something still feels… ominous about accepting such an offer. Or maybe you're just being paranoid. The lore books also said dryads instinctively kill humans on sight.

His features darken at your hesitation. "I can guarantee that I've already got a tolerance if you just tried to slip me something," he spits out with a mix of anger and raw hurt. The venom in his tone paralyzes you with fear and for a long moment all you can do is stare at him with wide eyes. You swallow around your dry tongue as you struggle to formulate a disarming response.

"It's not like that," you finally say back with the goblet held in both shaky hands. You raise it for a prolonged sip and make a display of showing that you actually took a drink, which seems to assuage his anxiety as much as it does yours, the mead warming your throat and chest as it settles in a warm ball somewhere deep in your core. The Hammerbar meadery doesn't mess around with the efficiency of their products, apparently. "See? If there's something in it now you'll know."

Deku shakes his head. "Then let's hope it's just mead. I'm sorry. I don't think you'd do that." He turns away to pick at the honeycomb and pops a corner into his mouth, which is received with another appreciative noise from deep in his chest.

The conversation is light and easy from the very beginning. He's young for his kind with double your lifespan ahead of him, maybe longer if he "ascends" (a term that has you both laughing in solidarity as you commiserate on your respective mentors). After a good hour of chatting a silence finally lapses between you, the buzz of cicadas filling the space as Deku picks up the last chunk of honeycomb. You sit at the altar's base, just within touching range of the leg he has dangling over the edge of the pedestal, his eerie green eyes trained on you with the sharpness of a royal blade.

He's ethereal in close range. The air around him carries a drift of something wild and feral, like an inaudible drumbeat that thumps in time with your heart.

"Do I make you nervous?" 

That feels like a loaded question if you've ever heard one. He seems to pick up on your hesitation once again and tilts his head, his lips parted slightly around a faint smile that makes your heart skip a beat. "No," you reply, but it's a hollow projection. Deku raises a brow, a clear sign he caught your lie.

"Uh… maybe a little. You said it yourself, human understanding of your kind is apparently woefully inaccurate." Which bothers you a lot. You're one of the people responsible for interpreting every tome in the archive. How much else do humans have wrong?

Deku nods. "I know it's not very helpful, but we don't hate humans. The elders pity your lack of connection to wild magic, but that's a sentiment that's fading with the younger generations."

"And what do you think of us?" 

The Fae pauses, his head tilted askew as he ponders your question. You have the urge to take it back before he replies suddenly, his teeth flashing in a grin that makes your stomach flip and promptly fall into your feet:

"I don't care about other humans. I care about you."

You swallow hard. You're completely unprepared for the weight of his tone. It's all you can do to remember to breathe normally as panic and excitement go to all-out war. You're vaguely aware that you've been warned about this: Fae rely on glamour magic to conceal their true selves while among humans. The closer you are to one and the longer you spend there, the more likely you are to fall for it. This isn't him, you say to yourself in a firm tone. You're seeing a spell. And yet you remain rooted to the spot amid the molasses-thick silence, his emerald eyes transfixed on you like he's trying to bore himself right down to your soul. Logic is no longer enough to make yourself move, to speak, to do anything but watch him with deep fascination. Part of you doesn't want to move at all, and you're vaguely aware that your lack of fear should probably be some kind of warning sign.

He suddenly pushes himself off the altar and lands on his feet, cat-like and eerily graceful, his hand extended to help you up as well. You take it and are immediately shocked by how rough his palm is under your fingers. He doesn't look old enough to have gone through years of hard labor, but his hands tell a completely different story. You frown at your palms where they're flattened together, his weathered fingers draped gently around the side of your hand. He radiates heat like a stone dock in summer. Even with a foot or two between you, you have to wrestle down the urge to step closer and draw yourself into the warmth that surrounds him.

He leans far enough to get your attention and flashes you another dazzling smile (you're not insane, he can't feel even warmer now how is that even possible). "I have a present for you," he chirps. A hand disappears into his satchel and reappears a moment later with a long piece of rich emerald silk. You can't help but beam until your cheeks ache: the delicate gold embroidery along its edges is identical to what is on the linen scarf you've held onto for all these years. The delicate silk threads are woven into a river of shiny deep green that pools around your fingers in feather-light ripples. It's clearly worth more than anything you've ever owned and everything you currently own combined, adding an extra level of surreal that has your head slightly spinning.

"I embroidered it myself," he says, pride radiating through his words. He holds it up with an encouraging nod toward you. "May I?"

It takes your brain a few seconds to catch up with what's happening, but when it does you nod slowly. He closes the gap between you in one slow step and oh, you aren't ready for the scent of earth and pine that radiates from him and the crackle of something intangible that hits you like a mallet once you're nearly standing chest to chest.

The scarf is draped over your shoulders in a single flourish. He secures it in an ornate knot at your throat, his knuckles dragging little brushes of electricity across your skin as you do your best to stay still. Gods, whatever glamour he's using is powerful because he's absolutely breathtaking this close. The freckles you remember from so many years ago are still there, softened by the slight tan of his cheeks but still a pronounced constellation under his soft eyes as he smiles down at you with a mind-nymbing warmth.

"Green is your color," he murmurs close enough for you to feel his breath ghosting across your throat. Your heart flies upward and, on a whim you can't wrestle down, you reach for his hand once again to deftly slide your fingers between his. Deku jumps, clearly startled, but he makes no move to pull away or retreat. In fact, he gives your hand a squeeze in return that makes every hair on your body stand on its end. He draws even closer, pressing out every bit of air between you. Your interwoven hands are guided to between your chests, the breeze and ambient noise from outside coming to a dead standstill.

"I never forgot you," he rumbles, eyes half-lidded from the close proximity. "Not for a second."

"I dreamed about you," you whisper back, and the last few inches between you are gone in an instant. You draw in synchronized inhales as a surprisingly strong set of arms wraps around your back. Your own thread around his waist to clutch at the Fae and keep him pressed close with a sudden flash of desperation. He seems to be of the same mind: he kisses you with a ferocity you've never known, demanding and insistent enough that your lungs' cries for oxygen go willfully ignored. When you finally rip apart it's with another unified inhale and a wonble as the world spins on its ear. You can feel yourself grinning despite the shock still numbing out your brain. 

A Fae kissed you… and you kissed him back without hesitation. There's something unsaid in the room now and it hangs heavy in his stare, which has once again fixated upon you with trickles of gold dancing along the edges of deep green. You quietly gasp. You've never seen feral magic this close. Shouldn't you be afraid by now?

"Come with me," he breathes out of nowhere. Your knees just about give out from shock. What?

"I'm serious." He holds both your hands under his chin. "I can give you things you don't even know exist. Anything you want, I'll make it happen."

You gape back. It's the sort of dramatic offer you read about in children's books, but never in a thousand years did you think you'd really be offered something like this. "Deku…"

"I know it's a lot," he blurts out. "You've spent your whole life here and I would never want to separate you from the world you know, but if I can find you in the same spot twice I'm sure we can find a way to go back and forth -" 

Something in you decided the second he asked. There's no question what your heart wants. You press in again while he's rambling to cut him off with another firm kiss. Deku grunts into it as he's forcibly quieted before a hand gently cradles the back of your head.

You pull away with less ferocity this time and hover in his space, hazy with giddiness. "I didn't say no," you whisper, unable to bring yourself to speak any louder. "But there are things that need to be done in the meantime. I have duties here, Deku."

"We can figure out how to do both," he replies with rapidly growing excitement. The thin gold veins around his irises have begun to overtake the emerald. Your heart thunders as his excitement edges on feral. "Please just consider it. If you want, I can come back this same time next year and we can figure it out from there."

A year seems long enough to your addled brain. "Sure," you wheeze. "One year from tonight."

"One year." Deku nods furtively, but as he lets go of you it's obvious you're not the only one who hates having to do it. He looks to the floor, then to the darkest corner of the room where he'd appeared, then back to you with a smile too heavy for the ones you're used to. "I'll be watching over you. The embroidery of that scarf is kind of powerful, so I'd be careful wearing it around anyone or anything that might pull it."

You look to the fabric tied around your neck and your frown deepens. "What's that supposed to -"

Too late. By the time you look up again he's gone, and the altar in front of you is empty.

---

Part 3

You hold his promise close to your heart and don't breathe a single word of it to anyone, even your mentor. Elspeth would have an absolute fit if she figured out you're planning on not only leaving the temple, but running off with a dryad of all things. And besides that, she doesn't deserve the disrespect of knowing all her years of effort might go to waste. You can't bring yourself to face that very real chance just yet.

You stick to your studies and daily duties as your matron's hearth declines through the year, and nearly a year to the day since Deku's last visit the inevitable comes. Matron Elspeth passes in her sleep with you at her side, holding her hand while humming her favorite hymns until you see her chest rise and fall for the last time. She lived to a blessedly old age, but that doesn't help the fierce tear of grief that rips you open when she's finally gone. Elspeth was essentially your mother along with being your mentor.

And beyond that, if it hadn't been for her, you would have never met Deku.

You head up the organization of her final ceremonies, as is your place. Her pyre is constructed along the edge of the clearing's small lake, a neatly organized stack of wood and highly flammable fabric from the temple with a gap in the middle for her remains. You make sure to include clippings from her favorite lavender box as a final personal farewell.

The pyre is set ablaze with your own torch. This is how it has to be. It's how she sent her mentor off, and it will be how your mentor sends you off as well. You can only hope you've given her the honor she deserves, every decision you've made considered.

You make your way back to the temple alone at sunset while the other attendants remain behind. You need time to think. You've spent every quiet moment that day crying alone. If you don't get a second of true isolation you're going to break in front of half the temple. Elspeth wouldn't like that. You're stronger than your grief, at least for the moment, so you make a beeline for your preferred prayer room and let your feet move in that direction on autopilot, emerald scarf drawn up around your cheeks. You hold it close and will yourself to remain calm until there's a door between you and the rest of the world.

You're running by the time you throw yourself into the altar room and shove the door closed behind you. It lands in its frame with a thunderous BANG that muffles the broken sob that cracks from between the hands you have clutched over your face, along with the shuffling of a second person in the room that had gone unnoticed while you were trying to escape everyone else. A boot heel slides along the marble floor and you whirl around, eyes wide as you peer through the strands of summer dusk that pour through the room's open roof. Your heart flies into your throat with a burst of excitement. "Deku?" you call out, shaking with the urge to throw yourself toward the person as he emerges from the darkest shadowed corner.

But it's not Deku. Elation flips to horror as the lead hunter's son appears with a lecherous grin. He's still a good ten feet away, but you can smell strong booze radiating odd him in nauseating waves. "Why are you here?" you demand. "Only temple attendants are allowed in the prayer spaces alone. You need to leave."

"Do I?" he asks back derisively. Ice floods your veins with his first step. You instinctively shuffle back toward the door. "Because I'm pretty sure I can do what I want. Your temple wouldn't have food without me."

"Without your father," you clarify in a sharp tone. All manners have already been abandoned: this is not the day, and you are not the attendant to bother. You don't want to deal with calling guards or causing a cacophony. You just want to be left alone with your grief.

Your comment makes him clench his jaw. "Without." He takes another heavy step forward, and as he draws closer it becomes apparent how much of a size advantage he has. "Me." He takes another heavy step as your bones ice over. You want to take off, but you're terrified that any sudden movement will just propel him toward you faster, and you're not strong enough to shove the heavy stone door open without a few seconds of effort.

"You're drunk," you point out in hopes of derailing his train of thought. You can feel your pulse thumping hard and fast in your throat. "Go home and sleep it off. I won't tell anyone you were here."

"You think I give a shit f'anyone knows I was here?" he slurs back with increasing volume. "You fuckin' demon worshippers are all th'same, so far up your own ass you wouldn't know a good offer if it kissed you right on th'mouth."

A realization hits you like a brick. "Is this about what happened at my birthday last year?" you ask, using his off-kilter focus to your advantage as you slowly begin to step backward toward the door. "You pushed yourself onto me and wouldn't let me go until I kissed your cheek, then you threatened to drop me off the roof if I didn't accept your marriage proposal on the spot. Do you…" You cut yourself off. Of course he doesn't remember. He'd been just as off his head back then as he is now.

"I was only joking!" he retorts. "Why would I drop m'future wife off a roof? Thasstupid. Y're nuts for thinking I'd actually go through with it."

You successfully baby-step your way to within reach of the carved inlet that serves as the door handle. Just keep him rambling. You can hit him with the door before you take off. "And you're nuts for thinking anyone would immediately accept a marriage offer from someone who reeks like the bottom of an ale barrel."

You know the second you shoot off your mouth that it wasn't a good move. He tenses on the spot, both hands drawn into club-like fists at either side, his stony features pinched with disgust.

"You sayin' you're too good for me, bitch?"

He rushes forward, too fast for you to get the door more than a crack open before he throws a massive shoulder against it to slam it shut once more. You scream as he grabs the front of your robes, praying it echoes down the hall with your heels dug against the floor in a fruitless effort to prevent him from bodily dragging you toward the empty altar. He's far too strong to break away from. Your nails digging into his wrists seems to not even register, even when blood wells under them. "Let go," you plead, wide eyed fixed on the pedestal as he drags you toward it clawing and kicking the whole way.

Nothing seems to faze him. He forces your upper half over the marble pedestal with enough force to knock the wind out of your lungs. You wheeze under the weight of a forearm that presses hard into your upper back, reinforced by extra weight that's too heavy to roll out from under. You struggle the entire time, unwilling to stop, with everything in you that isn't trying to escape screaming toward the Aether for someone, something, anything to see what's going on and intervene. You've spent your whole life serving this temple… why would the Fae abandon you now?

As you flail, a small brown sparrow lands on the edge of the open roof and peers down directly at you two. It chirps once, clear as a bell, and the sound hits something deep and instinctive in your chest.

You aren't given enough time to ponder. He grabs your scarf from behind without warning and the knot instantly digs into your windpipe as he yanks the garment back in an attempt to rip it off of you. You sputter and flail your hands to signal for him to let go, to warn him of the danger that lingers in your head with Deku's last warning, but it's not enough.

You hear a piece of embroidery thread snap somewhere in his closed fist. A gust of humid air blasts across you and the weight above you disappears immediately, followed by a nauseating crunch of bones breaking amid the shatter of cracked marble. You wail in fear, clutching to the warmth that had drifted through you with both arms over your head as you sob into the marble. You can't bring yourself to move yet.

Where are you? You said you'd be watching out for me…

You finally force yourself upright once you begin to lose circulation in your arms. You wipe your face, sniffling quietly as you turn. You nearly collapse as a petrified shriek rips itself out of your chest: the hunter had been thrown back against the marble wall next to the door with enough force to crater it inward. His unmoving frame is slumped over in the center amid a splash of red that drips heavily off the jagged edges around him.

It isn't the wall that grabs your attention, though: his tunic has been ripped with several round puncture wounds arranged in a rough circle, the apparent source of the blood pooling at his sides. You tremble from head to toe despite the summer breeze coursing through the room. The longer you stare at the hunter's chest wounds and the way they're arranged, the more they begin to look like… 

"Antler wounds."

You smack a hand over your mouth like you'd just hexed someone. He really had been watching out… somehow. What kind of magic had gone into your scarf's embroidered edge? You run your fingers over it, seeking out the thread that snapped. The wind dies out in time for you to hear another set of feet shuffling in the room. It's almost too much; you nearly faint with the panic that latches around your throat. You sway back toward the altar to use for leverage as your knees once again threaten to buckle and are bolstered by a rough set of hands that press against your shoulder blades to keep you upright.

You're too strung out to do anything but gape as Deku - the real one, the same one from the year before with his antlers and freckles and big, terrifying green eyes oh gods he's finally here - steps around and immediately yanks you against his chest. You cling back with both arms circled tight around his ribs and let out another ragged sob into the soft fabric of his cloak.

"Are you okay?" he rumbles. You can only nod back and clutch him like he's keeping you anchored to the ground. You feel his head turn above yours, toward the cracked wall and what remains of the hunter, and a low growl vibrates through him. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I tried to get here as fast as I could." You feel his arms tighten around your upper half, boxing you in and insulating you from the sight behind him.

"You saved me," you manage to choke back. "You don't have to apologize for anything." You step back far enough to wipe at your eyes and clear your sinuses, trembling like a leaf in the circle of his arms. "What was that? What attacked him?" 

Deku's mouth draws into a tense line. "I can't tell you," he replies. "But I know someone who can." You blink, confused by his ambivalence. "Have you considered what we talked about last year?"

…What? "Of course I have," you retort. Your head hurts. Where's that spiced wine when you need it? "But I hardly think this is a time to talk about-"

"No no no, think about it," Deku cuts in hurriedly. "I don't mean this in a threatening way at all, but the people of your village are going to get suspicious when someone turns up dead with a set of puncture wounds to the chest."

Your entire body numbs out with panic. He's right. Your gaze snaps to the top of his head, where a set of now fully grown antlers jut out of his wild verdant curls. You begin to count how many points they have, but shove the impulse away with disgust. You don't want to know. Even if you did, it's probably for the best to remain ignorant for now.

Voices echo through the open roof from somewhere beyond, possibly the temple courtyard. "I have to go," he says with a hint of genuine hurt. "They can't find me."

This is too much. The decision to leave was always supposed to be planned out. You've had an entire year to get everything ready, only to have your plans shattered into jagged chunks of broken marble by a drunk hunter and some creature powerful enough to kill him with velocity alone. You clutch yourself to his chest again as panic grips your throat with white-hot claws. "We'll find a way to come back, right?" you whisper with a silent prayer of hope to the entire cosmos.

He nods. "I swear it on my name." He pushes you gingerly by the shoulders so he can look you in the face again, his own tense with mounting anxiety. "We have to go now, my sparrow. Please… I'm begging you, come with me. I don't want to go back without you again." His hands tighten over your shoulders as tears well up along the edges of his wide green eyes. "Please."

It feels like your heart has been ripped out of your chest and flung out through the open roof. You open your mouth to blurt out some pained apology for making him assume you'd say no, the voices outside growing louder and clearer in the pause, but can only choke around a whimper as everything you want to say jams in your throat. Instead you simply nod, a single weak incline of your head.

That's all it takes for him to scoop you around the waist again and drag you both sideways toward the corner where he appeared. "You might be kind of shocked when we get through," he warns as he hurls you both toward the marble seam you're convinced is going to split your head open on contact. "Hold your breath!"

The command is sharp enough to make your lungs draw in a deep inhale without conscious thought. Your eyes snap shut as your forehead approaches the shadowed corner; it meets only an icy wall of air as the lights beyond your closed eyelids pitches black. You can feel Deku holding you around the waist, an anchor that keeps you tethered to your own sanity as he rushes you through the dark at breakneck pace. The icy rush whipping against your face seems to deplete the lungful of air you're still stubbornly holding onto and within seconds they're screaming for relief. Deku smacks a hand over your mouth just when you think you're going to break and try to take a breath, and a second later you're both tumbling across the stone floor of an unfamiliar but warm kitchen.

---

Part 4

The second your head stops spinning long enough to see again, you realize there's a woman standing between you and Deku. You weakly recognize the faded emerald of the hair she has trimmed neatly at her shoulders. You glance her over and realize with a jump that the skin you can see around her modest summer dress is a pale shamrock green.

"By the gods, who's chasing you now?"

You blink from where you've landed in a sprawl sprawl against an ornately carved kitchen cabinet, too dizzy from the rush of air that fills your lungs when you take a greedy inhale to answer immediately (even though the question was clearly directed at Deku, who landed upside down with his long legs arched over his head against a stone hearth in a corner of the kitchen). You take another breath, but the bottoms of your lungs feel heavy like they've been filled with a thick gas. Deku slumps over to right himself and immediately looks to you. You're beginning to breathe faster as exhaustion gives way to panic.

The woman turns, fixing you with a look of shock that probably rivals your own. She's a spitting image of Deku, down to the ear points that poke out of her silver-streaked hair and the way her eyes go impossibly wide with genuine emotion. "You're human!" she exclaims.

You nod back, too panicked to form proper words. "Oh… oh, you're human!" 

She jumps into motion like she'd just been zapped by a bolt of lightning. She procures a large wooden bowl from a cabinet and fills it with a few handfuls of herbs snatched from dried bundles hanging over the hearth, then steaming water from a kettle that she carefully pulls out from its resting place in the coals. She mutters something in a lilt you can't follow as the bowl is set on the floor in front of you, the woman following suit to kneel on the other side. "Lean down and breathe through the steam," she instructs gently, tilting down to encourage the motion. "The air here is different from the other side. You need to coat your lungs before they start rejecting the pollen floating around."

You tilt forward with a choked noise of panic and take as deep of a breath as you can with the steaming water wafting up across your face. Relief finds you immediately: you can draw a breath all the way to the bottom of your lungs, which takes the edge off your panic enough to finally slow down your respiration rate.

"There you go," the woman encourages gently. She rests a small, comforting hand between your shoulders that's shockingly cold for how warm the kitchen is. "You should be fine now." She turns to give her son an exasperated look. "You brought a human back without giving her anything to prepare?"

"I didn't have a choice!" Deku pleads back. "It was that or risk an entire war on their side-" 

The woman holds up a hand to stop him and Deku immediately obeys. "Hold on," she says slowly, turning back to look at you with both brows raised. Her gaze drops to your neck and freezes. "You're the temple girl, the one he's been going to see."

The room goes silent, spare the crackling of the fireplace and your own rapid heartbeat. The older dryad watches, still as stone as she takes you in with one long look before staring at the fabric around your neck once more. All you can do is nod back. something akin to pain flashes across her face and she sits up with a fond smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but I think it might be best if you let my son explain a majority of them over some tea. You look exhausted."

My son. "So you're Deku's mother?"

The dryad wrinkles her nose. "Yes," she replies stiffly. "Though I very much dislike his chosen name. It's undignified." She turns to Deku again. "You haven't given her your name yet?"

Deku waves his hands in front of him and goldfishes for a response before you cut in. "It's not his fault," you quickly counter. "I didn't want to offer mine. I was raised in a temple that had some pretty strict rules against that in particular."

"Understandable. Though I can't say I'm thrilled at the prospect of my own son having courted someone for nearly an entire year-" (Courted, what!?) "-Without even having offered his name."

"I did offer it!"

His mother chuckles. "I have to fetch someone who will be of much more significant counsel than I, but that will give you two some time to settle in."

You nod in acknowledgment, but her words don't really process in your brain. Now that you're breathing normally again, exhaustion has begun to creep into your bones. You'd been going on fumes before the hunter decided to ambush you, and now that you've quietly literally been flung through a Fae circle it's hard to do anything but lean against the cabinet. The dryad brushes her hand over your shoulder as she passes on her way out. "My name is Inko" echoes through your own head with the contact, jarring you into a sharp yelp, which only makes her chuckle in the same light-as-air way as Deku.

"Well… this is a hell of a way to meet someone's parents."

Said dryad has found his feet and is watching you with a sheepish smile, a hand absently scratching at the base of an antler. "At least it's over now?"

Your head thumps back against the cabinet. This is too much. You need to sleep. If you don't find somewhere to lay down soon, your body is going to give out. "Could we just…" You glance around the kitchen and into the room beyond, where another hearth flickers around a circle of ornately carved wooden den furniture. Perfect.

He follows your line of sight and seems to catch on without you having to finish your request. He moves toward you, arms extended to help you to your feet. When you wobble upon standing he immediately seams your sides up to take a gentle lead toward the sitting room. The furniture all looks hand-carved, the seats made up of soft animal hides that look older than both of you. He lays you down on the longest bench with a small blanket under your head for a pillow, the deerhide that's draped over the back of the sofa gently pulled across you for a proper blanket.

"We can talk later." He leans down to press a kiss to your temple. You groan as he turns to move away, an arm shooting out from under the hide to grab his tunic and hold him in place.

"Wait," you plead quietly, fatigue tugging heavily at your eyelids. "Please stay with me, at least until I fall asleep." You have no idea where you are or how long you'll be out. All you know is Deku being gone means you're here alone and you absolutely cannot bear that thought.

A soft smile breaks across his face. "Of course," he murmurs back. "Anything you need, just like I promised." You scoot to make room and he steps over to fit himself between you and the back of the sofa without prompting. This is what you really needed: a space heater behind you, a fire in front, and a strong arm draping itself over your midsection to hold the knotted ends of your scarf as you both drift off. If nothing else, Deku has more than proven he'll kill anything that comes near you… or at least has access to something that can.

He's still there when you come to. The lighting in the room hasn't changed when you open your eyes to peer around, and it isn't until now that you notice neither the kitchen nor den have any windows. The fire has burned down to a low pile of flickering embers, which means you were at least out long enough to burn through what had been there earlier. With no view of the sun, however, it's impossible to tell how long you were out.

Your stirring rouses Deku, who grunts in his sleep and pulls you back into his chest. The arm cradled under yours has turned an eerie cold. When it registers you sit up to face him, concerned until it snaps into another bolt of shock.

You yelp and fall off the edge of the sofa. Deku's skin has turned a shade of green identical to his mother's, his freckles standing out in sharp contrast. He bolts upright as well, looking around for the source of the panic before he spots you on the floor, half covered by the deer hide you'd accidentally tugged with you. "What's wrong?" he asks urgently, glancing around again.

"You're…"

He gives you a puzzled look, then glances down to where you're staring at his forearms. "Oh!" His hands rub absently at the opposite forearm as his cheeks flush ever so slightly. "Uh… yeah. I told you you might be a little shocked."

Shit. You did it again. You push yourself up to scoot onto the end of the sofa near his feet, and he respectfully folds his legs up to his chest to give you room without having to make contact. It's a gesture you appreciate, but not one you (or him) necessarily need. You sidle up to his shins, where you lean your side with your hands acting as a chin rest on his knees.

"Surprised is more the word," you clarify before poking your tongue out at him playfully. "A little advance notice would have been nice."

"Hey now," Deku chuckles. "I tried. We had a solid plan going there for a minute." He reaches a hand forward and, with a twitch of hesitation, shifts a lock of hair off your forehead and behind an ear. His fingertips are ice cold, a sharp juxtaposition to the warmth in his tone and the care with which he brushes across your skin. "I'm glad you're here, regardless of how it came to be. I've thought of you every single day since my last visit."

How had anyone mistaken dryads for monsters? If the others are a fraction as kind as Deku and his mother, then they've been handed a grave injustice when it comes to human comprehension of their kind. You lean your head toward his hand and he opens his fingers. Your cheek brushes against his weathered palm, eliciting a shiver that courses down your back as the temperature of his skin clashes against the warmth of the den. For a long moment you simply exist, anchored by the green stare fixed upon your own and the callused thumb that smooths over your cheek. Whatever it takes for you to keep this kind of tenderness around will be well worth the effort. You've already decided (long ago, you silently realize) that he is the only one you ever want to be this close to you.

"Do I make you nervous?"

You're taken back to the altar room for a moment as you recall the image of Deku sitting on the pedestal, bathed in pale light with the cicadas humming behind his ethereal laugh. "No," you reply truthfully, hushed and reverent in the slowly disappearing space between you as you both lean forward. Both your eyelids lower as you both lean closer. It's a chaste contact when Deku leans in to kiss you, as soft as his tone and the way he brushes the rest of your hair from the side of your face. Within a few seconds, the soft contact is enough to have you melting against his hand.

A deep male voice breaks the reverie from somewhere behind Deku: "Ah, excuse us…"

This time you both jump hard enough to nearly land on your asses. Deku pushes himself back until he thumps against the arm rest of the sofa as Inko enters the room, followed by what can only be described as a mountain of a man with wild goldenrod hair and deep-set sclera black eyes, their vivid contrasting pupils locked directly on you as he and the dryad approach.

"I hate to be a bother and intrude on such a formative moment, but Inko was insistent upon checking to make sure you're both still alive." He bows his head in deep apology. You're startled by how easily he seems to hold himself level with the massive antlers jutting out of his hair; they're taller than his head and several inches wider on either side. As you force yourself to not take count of the antler points, you vaguely wonder to yourself how he fits through doorways or in anything less than giant-sized.

Deku rises to his feet, and you quickly follow suit. "Ahh, this is my father," he says quickly. "I get the feeling you two are going to be fast friends."

"If you're willing to risk traversal sickness for her, she's got to be worth her weight in gold," the man booms back. He approaches with a hand the size of a serving platter toward you, the deep lines of his face bent around a beaming grin you recognize on the spot. "My name is Yagi Toshinori. Don't worry, it's safe to introduce yourself to me. I'm not Fae."

You twitch your head to the side but take his hand to shake it anyway, suddenly flummoxed. "But the antlers…"

"A by-product of the life I've found for myself." He lifts an arm as Inko steps up to his side and lays it over her back. It's kind of amusing to see such a small woman under the arm of a moving mountain, but the care with which he moves about her is heart-warmingly familiar. "All by choice, zero regrets."

The two of them take a seat on a smaller bench in the den, and you and Deku take your seats once they're both settled. "The drop in is rough, eh? That ice tunnel is awful."

You frown back. "How did you find this place?" 

"I didn't find this place." He puts his arm behind Inko's neck, who leans into him with an appreciative hum. "I found my wife first. She's the one who brought me here."

You can't help but laugh, and mercifully the other three join in. "That sounds familiar," you reply through a chuckle.

"It happens less than it used to, but it's not unheard of," Inko adds. "I had a feeling my son would be following in my footsteps."

There's just enough flatness to her words that you squirm on the spot. "I hope that's not a bad thing," Deku says as he draws himself closer to your side. "Unless my logic is severely flawed, there wouldn't be a son to follow in your footsteps if you hadn't done it first."

Yagi lets out an undignified snort. Inko tries to frown, but it breaks around a smile as she nods in defeat. "All the same, I wish this hadn't been so sudden," she adds. "Not that I'm upset you're here now-" She holds a hand up quickly toward you. "-It was just rather abrupt. I wish we could have had time to prepare a proper welcome."

You glance down to your lap. "Deku saved me from something terrible," you respond quietly. "We didn't really have a choice in the matter." You look up again to offer the older dryad an encouraging smile. "Though rest assured he's been nothing but respectful the entire time I've known him." You bow your head politely. "Your hospitality is much appreciated. Thank you for giving me shelter."

Something behind Inko's eyes softens enough to make your heart twist. She watches you for a long moment, studying you as you do your best to not squirm. "The door has been opened for this place to potentially become your home," she replies to break the silence. "No need to speak of it as a foreign place. You already belong."

You feel Deku draw in a sharp breath. When you glance up to him he's hastily wiping his eyes on the back of his free hand. "Don't mind me," he chirps with a slight tremble. "This is normal. Been a crybaby since I was a sapling."

"You are not a crybaby," Yagi jabs back as he casually swipes a thumb under one of his eyes. "You have a heart."

And I wonder where he gets it, you think to yourself as you lean into Deku's side to comfort him.

The situation that brought Deku's parents together is so similar to your own it's almost eerie: Toshinori had been a well-known hunter from another village who found himself "lost" during an extended journey into the forest; in reality, he'd been lured away from the village so a team of rogues could take him out and claim his hunting grounds. He reached out for Inko, who'd already been coming around in a similar fashion to Deku responding to your meditation, and she answered by snaring the entire group in a wave of venom-thorned vines before sweeping him through a circle and away from the chaos. They were married within a year, and Deku came along a few years after that.

"It's oddly romantic, when you take out the death-by-murder-vine part," you offer to keep the mood light. All three of them laugh, especially Inko, who chortles behind her hand until her cheeks turn pink.

Something is digging at you, though. You can't let the entire moment go without at least trying to ask. "You said you're human," you repeat to Yagi. "But you also say the antlers come from magic. I thought we couldn't access magic."

"We can't," he replies casually. Thank goodness, you'd been incredibly nervous about broaching such a personal subject. "Not by default, at least. Humans haven't earned the right as a whole. However, sometimes things happen and the magic itself chooses someone who might be worth it." He nods toward the scarf tied around your neck. "Not just anyone can affect a connection through something like that. It takes something predetermined by forces beyond our control for that connection to be forged at all."

The air in your lungs evaporates. "So this was fate."

Yagi nods sagely. "Yes, as was me coming here. We aren't the first, and we won't be the last." He jabs a finger at Deku, who's taken to clinging to your side like a newborn bear cub. "His antlers, however, come from a direct blood connection to feral magic. He's full dryad, and it'll be even more apparent once he's eventually the most powerful one."

The world screeches to a halt amid Yagi's beaming pride. You feel Deku go very, very still next to you. "Um… I beg your pardon?"

"The Ascendant," Inko answers. "There is a thread of feral magic more concentrated than anything else recorded in our history. It chooses who it resides within, and whoever that force chooses is essentially the most powerful being in our charted world." She inclines her head toward her son. "And one day that will be him."

You look between the two of them, then back to Yagi. "So that means you're the Ascendant."

"For the moment. My time is coming to an end soon. I've served my purpose, so it's time for the next cycle to begin."

"You don't mean…"

Yagi's eyes go wide. "Oh no no no, I'm not going to die, dear," he booms. "It's time for me to pass along my power. I'm fortunate to have a successor in time, and it would seem like this little excursion is a good indicator he might be prepared for it."

"We don't know that," Deku cuts in, and it isn't until now that you notice how flushed his cheeks are. "It'll happen if it's meant to happen, right?" You lay a hand on his knee that's immediately covered by one of his own. He sags into your side in quiet gratitude.

Inko nods. "And it hasn't happened yet, so we won't fret about it for now." Her tone is soft, but there's a comforting finality ronit that effectively ends the subject for discussion.

You're given a tour of their house, which Deku fervently clarifies is not the place where he's lived for several years (Inko replies with a smug "And yet there's almost always a third plate at the table", which seems to be more than enough for him to take a back seat with his dad and let Inko lead them around). She walks you through the lower floor, where several cozy bedrooms are situated around a circular pit set into the floor. The center is full of a myriad of cushions and pillows in an eye-catching pile of patterns and colors all jumbled together in a space wide enough to fit at least three Yagis with extra foot room. "You can pick any of the empty rooms for yourself," Inko says to you sweetly before shooting a pointed look toward her son, who drops his head and shuffles anxiously on the spot. "But I ask that you remain in yours. I know you're grown, but this is my-"

Deku squirms harder. "Yep, got it," he confirms hastily. It's clear there's literally anything else he'd rather be talking about. "Can we start dinner? I'm starving."

Your stomach audibly rumbles at the mention of food. Yes, that's an excellent idea for more than one reason. When is the last time you ate? If you can't remember, it's probably been way too long. Yagi sweeps everyone toward the stairs with both arms stretched to herd them forward. You silently thank him with a smile as he squeezes your shoulder on the way past.

Four people working at once means dinner is made with a quickness, something you're intensely grateful for when you finally sit down to ea. Your stomach hurts from lack of food so much it almost hurts more to eat until you've got enough sustenance in you to level out. You see to the tableware afterward as Deku cleans what remains of the kitchen mess. The other two take their leave for the night with one last round of greeting, Inko's eyes trained on her son as she warns him about "straying past boundaries" on the way toward the stairs, her husband chortling the whole time.

You and Deku wait in silence until a door audibly opens and closes again. "Well," Deku chirps as he turns to face you with an equally cheeky grin. "I guess I'll bid you goodnight here as well. I'll show you where I live tomorrow, once we've both had a chance to sleep." He takes your hand and kisses the back of it with a dramatic bow. "Sweet dreams, my sparrow."

You snort and take your hand back, but not before giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. "Good night, Deku." His grin turns sly as he moves off to his own room, leaving you to find the smallest unoccupied bedroom for yourself.

---

Part 5

The next morning both Inko and Yagi see you both out, the former not allowing her son to leave the house before he's verbally promised to come by soon (and in a hushed whisper to keep you safe). It isn't until you're outside that the lack of windows is explained: the front of Inko's home is set underneath the roots of a gargantuan tree that juts straight up toward the sky in a massive straight line. You peer upward toward the canopy, but it's so far above the other trees the bare trunk is swallowed by the forest crown on all sides with no way to see beyond. The house sits at the head of a narrow trail with more angled trees visible down the road. "The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get settled," he reminds, offering you a bent elbow.

You smile and slip a hand onto his forearm. You take the short walk to his home in lockstep, Deku's skin cooler in the open breeze where it brushes under your fingers. The air is heavy with humidity and the chill of a light fog that hovers over the trail as you walk down it, bugs chirping and creaking from the grass on either side of the path. It's… idyllic.

Deku's house is almost identical to Inko's, but it's only a single floor and houses, much to your delight, a natural spring under the kitchen. He waves you toward it with a grin and something about a fresh tunic, but that devious little glint in his eye is back when he meanders off to change his clothes as you see yourself downstairs.

The hot spring is a deep pool in its own room with a shallow end that slopes up to the water's edge. The torch-illuminated rock wall behind it shimmers with a stream of water that runs down from somewhere above and down into the pool in a soft, trickling wall, next to a sitting area has been carved out of the rock to the right side of the pool. You dig out a couple of towels and a robe made of butter-soft material from a cabinet before ridding yourself of your dirty temple garb and every garment underneath it, your prized scarf folded lovingly on top of the pile before everything gets placed in a basket next to the edge of the pool. You can't bring yourself to leave the scarf somewhere out of arm's reach, and your robes are the last real thing you own.

The water is hot when you step onto the shallowest shelf, not enough to burn but definitely enough to pull a groan of satisfaction from you as you eagerly step in until you're submerged to your bare chest. Every muscle in your back begins to unclench themselves within seconds. You sink lower into the water, past your chin with a slow inhale and all the way down until your knees touch the stone floor of the pool. Everything goes quiet in a rush of water: it fills your ears and drowns out everything else but the odd bubble of warmth you've found below the water's surface. Your nerves balm themselves over for the first time since flying through the ring amid the trickling quiet. I's just you here, with no one else to drop another surprise on you. You stay submerged as long as you can before pushing back up to breach the surface with a satisfied gasp, your head clearer than it's been for days.

You wipe at your face to clear your eyes of excess water and the first thing you see is Deku hovering at the edge of the shallow bank, a towel slung low over his hips. You yelp and jump back amid a slosh of water, partially out of shock and partially to keep yourself from immediately staring at his bare torso. It isn't enough to stave off the newfound knowledge that he's built like a sprint courier and that he's very, very much naked under the towel. "Gods, you've got to quit startling me," you whimper as you swipe a wet hand over your face.

Deku laughs. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. To be fair, you were underwater when I opened the door."

You grouse back, but it has no heat. He's right.

"Can I join you?"

Your playful frown turns genuine. "I thought that was understood."

"You didn't say I could come close. You're vulnerable right now. If you tell me to stay out, I will."

"You're very polite for someone who's already stripped down."

His cheeks flush bright pink. "I was hopeful," he replies in an obvious attempt to be aloof, but it doesn't quite mesh with the way he keeps jerking his gaze away from the surface of the water (and, you realize with a bolt of mortification, a clear enough view of your naked form for him to definitely see). "But I meant what I said."

The urge to test him and see what happens flashes through you, but it doesn't seem worth the effort. At the end of it all, you do want him to come closer. You step toward him, willing yourself to keep moving as the water lowers enough to expose your chest. Deku seems equally dead-set on keeping his eyes raised, your flushes a matching shade of garish pink now and getting deeper as you come within arm's reach of him and offer a hand.

"Please?"

His hesitation snaps in an instant. Deku throws the towel aside and hurtles toward the pool, only giving you barely enough time to step aside and avoid the splash of water that cascades over you. He resurfaces and shakes his hair out before turning to face you, grinning from ear to ear. "Am I dreaming? Is this really happening?"

Given your own doubts, there's only one real way to tell. You take the initiative and glide toward him in two long steps and snake your arms around his neck. As soon as you're in reach he pulls you in by the waist and kisses the air right out of your lungs. You break away for a breath, but as soon as you've gotten it he tugs you again and the kiss quickly grows sharper with edges of teeth that clack together every time one of you readjusts your head. A hand pushes into your hair to cradle the back of your head; when you tilt into the angle of his hand he presses his tongue past your lips and all bets are off.

The delicacy with which he's touched you so far is gone. Deku kisses like he's been starved of contact for years on end. You give back everything you're given with enthusiasm until you're both struggling to inhale. A dam has been broken: every bit of excitement, fear, doubt, and loneliness that's eaten at you over the years rushes forth in a tidal wave and it's all you can do to cling to him and hope you're not going to wake up in your own bed at any second.

You finally separate with a wet pop. The both of you hover close enough to brush together as you struggle to regain some composure. Deku sighs quietly, his chest still rising and falling hard enough to disturb the water around him. "So I'm not dreaming," he says quietly. "Good. I dunno if I could have handled waking up without you again."

His admission wobbles around a thread of genuine hurt that has you pulling him into a tight hug, your arms wrapped around him tight. You circle your fingernails over the backs of his shoulders in lazy circles. "You don't have to," you murmur into his ear. "We're both here now." Which, wow that's a wild truth, but it's a truth nonetheless.

Deku clings back with his face buried in the crook of your neck. A silence lapses with only trickling water to fill the gap. There's no need for either of you need to say anything: there's a wealth of communication in the reciprocal drags of his nails, the tiny ghosting pecks he leaves under your ear, the little sighs when you drag your nails up toward his neck. You're more than aware of the fact that there's something hard pressing into your lower stomach that definitely isn't his abs, but your curiosity can wait.

He doesn't seem to agree. The pecks along your throat lengthen into full kisses as he settles above the thump of your pulse. A faint drag of teeth makes you jump and he muffles a laugh into your neck. "So jumpy," he purrs.

You give him a nip to an earlobe in retaliation. He jumps on the spot as you chuckle into his ear: "Who's jumpy?"

That seems to hit a switch. You're pulled up and out of the water in one unceremonious grab as Deku hauls you over a shoulder. Your yelp echoes off the walls but he pays them no mind, spare a wet smack to your bare ass. He doesn't leave you with any other real option besides being hauled out of the spring and up the stairs once again.

His room is somewhere deep in the house. It's impossible to ascertain exactly what anything looks like while you're slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, so when he shuts the door of a bedroom warmed by a crackling floor pit it's a bit of a shock.

You fully expect to be thrown down, but instead he braces you under the knees and neck to set you on an impossibly soft blanket stretched across his bed. He steps back, a look of apprehension on his features when they come back into view. "As much as I want this," he says as your sense of gravity corrects itself. "I won't touch you unless you want me to. That was rather… abrupt, and I apologize for it."

It takes a second for you to realize why he's even apologizing. The guilt twisting across his face is what makes it click: you hadn't told him to pick you up. It's your turn to frown as you lean toward him. "I'm not mad," you offer gently. "But I appreciate your apology. It's okay. I want to be here."

Deku's apprehension ebbs, but doesn't completely disappear. "You give me your word?"

You nod without hesitation. His smile returns immediately, radiant amid the firelight, and your stomach flips with elation as he eagerly closes the distance between you.

He settles low between your spread knees, a solid weight that keeps you in place without much room to breathe, let alone think. You're dizzy with the intensity, but you kiss him back with every bit of fervor you're given. Deku groans against your flattened tongues. "Can I taste you?"

You nod without opening your eyes and the weight above you slides downward. It's definitely for the best that you hadn't watched him move: a long, hot tongue drags up your slit and draws your back up off the bed in a graceful arc. He seizes you around the waist with a muffled groan.

He takes you apart with a ferocity that's almost scary. Sharp dives of his tongue punctuate the moments he's not wrapped around your core, alternating every time your wails start to get louder or shake apart. You grip at the blanket above your head for an anchor, but abandon it in favor of the verdant curls on top of his head when a cruel twist of his tongue has you pushing nearly all the way off the bed.

His name flying past your lips mixes with a weak moan from the juncture where his face is buried. "Watch the horns," he whimpers (gods, it shouldn't be so hot to hear someone's voice crack). "But do that again."

You tighten your grip obligingly. His head pulls ever so slightly against your grip when he returns to devouring you with a newfound focus. Something thick prods past your folds and you jerk your head up in surprise, but it's a critical mistake. You're afforded a full view of him with his tongue pressed flat to your core and two thick fingers burying themselves to the thickest knuckle and it rips you right over the edge before you can even draw a breath.

He coaxes you through it, drinking you down with your thighs wedged directly over his ears. When you can finally move them away, you're almost concerned you might have hurt him. But then he sits up, his chin shining in the dim light with a wet grin planted just above it, and there's absolutely no doubt he was just as into it as you were. Your own grin edges on feral. "You gonna stop there, or are you gonna take care of yourself as well?"

Deku snorts with an edge of derision that has you shivering. "You think I'm done with you?"

Oh.

He's back in position with one sharp swoop. This time he throws either leg over his own, splaying your knees wide around his ribs. A wave of self-awareness punches you square in the gut as he drags his eyes down the length of your exposed frame. "Incredible," he breathes. "I've never seen anything as beautiful as you."

You squirm, but will yourself to remain still. It's almost too much. There's so much tenderness behind the wild thrum shaking through him you're not sure how you even deserve it. Thankfully, his patience seems to run out just as your resolve to remain still snaps. He kisses you again as something thicker presses into you, drawing out a prolonged moan from both of you that breaks off when your laps settle together. "Hang on," Deku grunts hard against your lips. "N-need a second."

He's shaking under your arms where they're circled around his neck, but that could very easily also be you. "Yeah. Gods, Deku, you're-"

"Izuku."

The entire room goes still. He locks eyes with you, his own blown wide with only a ring of gold-flecked emerald left. Fear jumps across them while his throat bibs around a hard swallow. "That's my name. I just want you to have it. You don't have to give me yours."

Fear twists your heart for just a beat before it's replaced by a heavy warmth. You reach a hand up toward his face where it hovers just above yours, tentative and soft, the finger that curls his hair behind an ear ever so gentle. "Soon," you whisper back.

Izuku beams. "I'll wait as long as it takes."

Your lips crash together again, both of them curved upward around matching smiles. Izuku sets up a pace that keeps you close while still allowing him to take the lead and kiss the air out of your lungs, skin softly popping together with shallow thrusts without stopping. He has each hip in hand again with a grip that slowly increases with his breathing. Before long you're both panting into each other's ear, your head thrown back while he worries your throat with his teeth and grunts with barely restrained need.

"Won't last long," he rumbles.

You nod your acknowledgment. You've been a puddle since the second he laid you on the bed and took you apart like a prized garment. It's only fair he ends up just as boneless as you. You set your knees around his ribs to lift yourself into him, but both knees are pushed to the bed just as quickly. Izuku is watching where your bodies meet with a feverish focus. He doesn't seem entirely aware that he's got you completely splayed open but he thrusts hard and deep anyway, guttural noises punching out of him in time with the snapping of wet skin.

He finds an angle that seems to hit right up into your midsection and it's all over. He rips a wail out of you before your mouths are sealed together again, his pace unrelenting. You fall apart hard enough to make your entire frame quake under his grip, which has tightened enough to leave deep bruises where his fingers dig into your thighs. Just when it feels like you might actually have to tap out or risk going unconscious he thrusts in one more time with a sharp growl, then another, then a final one deep in his chest as he rolls himself into your hips and finally paints your insides white hot.

You're both trembling like leaves when he finally collapses on top of you again. You run your nails through the damp curls over his temples as he returns the favor along your hips, idle and tender despite the harsh bruises you can feel blooming along your inner thighs. Your breathing comes back slowly as you lazily kiss through the aftershocks, hands never ceasing in their wandering. It's a perfect feedback loop of calm and relief with only the fire to witness in the otherwise empty house.

As your breathing returns to normal you nudge Izuku up enough to meet his eyes. They've gone back to their normal emerald, the flicker of the fire catching hair-thin veins of gold. With the curved points of his horns looming overhead and flush-kissed shamrock skin, he should be some kind of intimidating. Instead, you can't stop staring at him. He's ethereal, more so than anything you've ever seen in any tome or heard in any story. He's real. He's flesh and bone and big, soft eyes and a heart entirely too warm for a creature who could take down minotaurs bare-handed.

And yet he looks at you like you're made of Faerie porcelain.

The corners of your mouth curl upward. You beckon for him to lean forward again and he does so, seemingly as transfixed as you. You pull him down so your lips can brush the shell of his ear and, after a ghosting kiss to his cheek, you whisper your name.

[south-park-meta]

Maybe it's just me, but based on how Stan was really worried about Tolkien losing respect for him because of the name situation, he seems kinda high-strung about broken bonds. (Stan caring about his status with others is nothing new, but Post Covid is having me wonder if this kid is afraid of breaking any friendship he's willing to work for. If that make sense, having a little trouble wording it)

That didn't feel different to me in this episode personally, but I think Stan has always had a hard time working out how close his relationships with people actually are. I know I mentioned before that in small towns you're sort of friends with people even if you don't like them, but Stan's a real 0 to 60 person when it comes to this kind of thing in a way I don't think the other kids are. Up until fairly recent seasons he's gone into his really big causes helping people and seems to have the assumption that doing things like this will make them like him and that they'd do the same thing for him if he actually needed the help. I think he's starting to realize this isn't the case, but it also just makes him be more 'well luckily I don't need help because I'm tough' than he used to be. There's been a few times he's been concerned about kids who are his 'friends' who he just really honestly doesn't hang out with much and probably isn't actually friends with as much as just kids in the same grade.

That plus I think the major issues in his one-to-one friendships like the problems he had with Kyle and Cartman I don't think he ever felt wrong about entirely. Which is fine since honestly he wasn't a hundred percent wrong in his broship's issues. It was pretty evenly split in who fucked up what. His apology of 'sorry I was dick during the pandemic' was half-assed but whatever, the whole making up part was half-assed anyway. This is one of the few times he 100% alone fucked up in a friendship in a way that 1. he actually COULD have gotten away with if he just kept his mouth shut. and 2. Proves he doesn't know a friend well. Even ignoring the racial aspect of the episode, Stan does tend to think he's close to people just because he's willing to do things for them. When really he's just willing to do things for everyone and inflates how close he is to people because he needs external validation. It's one of his best qualities that smashes up with one of his worst.