#banishes himself in an act of self loathing

[laswells-ashtray]

Hii! I’m usually too nervous to do asks but I love your writings, so I feel comfortable enough to ask you this.

Has Nik ever been banished to the couch before? And if he has, what do you think he did? I like to think that the two are very patient when it comes to each other, but maybe John was having a bad day and Nik irritated him(or maybe Nik accidentally killed one of his plants).

But yeah, that’s it. It’s not much but maybe I’ll have more in the future!👋🏾

Helloooooo, all asks are welcome here I'm like a confessional except not a priest and cigarettes are actively encouraged. [Not in a way that can hurt me legally.]

Yes. Nikolai has found his ass on the couch at least once and everyone expects it to be this big, dramatic screaming match that landed him there. They think it must have been an incident that left their relationship in tatters.

Nikolai accidentally knocked a small cactus off of a shelf and broke its pot, John was drunk enough to demand he rectify his mistake after a night on the couch because he is banished from their bedroom and touching John's arse until it's fixed. John remembers none of this the next day and asks Nikolai why he's on their couch, Nikolai's sharp bark of laughter in response only confuses him more.

[madamspellmans-met-tet]

How Eve Best’s acting broke my heart—again.

We need to talk.

This entire scene already had me tearing up simply because of Rhaenys’ expressions.

First, Rhaenys walks up to the docks, tense, a stern look on her face. She corrects Alyn about her title, taking back control. She’s known for a long time about Corlys’ indiscretion, but this is the first time she’s confronted with it, face to face. She needs to see for herself.

Alyn struggles to meet her eye whereas Rhaenys keeps studying him as if it could help her understand. She’s had time to process her husband’s betrayal, but the scar still itches when irritated. She still doesn’t understand why, because he is so devoted to her. Their love is and always has been strong, so how could he have done it?

Then the hand to the cheek, a tender gesture. Assessing, yes, but we’ve only seen her do this with Baela and Rhaena before—which is why this was so incredibly meaningful to me.

It’s almost as if she accepts him as her own. He’s Corlys’ child, she sees him in Alyn, and she knows he’s innocent. And if Rhaenys is anything, then protective of her children/grandchildren.

“Your mother must’ve been very beautiful.”

Her husband’s betrayal made her question her own appearance; if she wasn’t comely enough anymore. If she was too old, too worn. Considering the love they shared, the only explanation for his affair was that the other woman was more beautiful than her, so much that he couldn’t resist, that he stopped thinking about her if only for a moment.

The little gulp, the sadness in her eyes. But there’s no blame, no resentment towards Alyn. And that’s what I so deeply admire about Rhaenys. She has so much self control in the face of the greatest pain that she can still see sense, can tell right from wrong. She could’ve lashed out at Alyn, could’ve asked Corlys to banish him from her sight, but instead she stands up for him.

It’s one of Rhaenys’ defining traits: compassion.

All throughout this scene, her eyes carry so much hurt. Like she’s dying inside. Eve said, “her heart [was] bleeding.” And it’s so visible.

Corlys comes into the picture. He dances around it, not wishing to bring further pain upon his wife, who he is already desperately trying to win back after his absence, even going to war just to prove his loyalty and devotion to her.

But Rhaenys is clear. She knows. Her eyes glaze with tears and Corlys can’t stand seeing it, averts his gaze, gets defensive when Rhaenys demands Alyn should be honoured for his deeds despite his origins, despite her pride.

It would bring shame on her, but she is willing to take it.

She stands by her husband.

But Corlys loathes himself for what he has done and changes the topic, almost attacking her with, “Is that why you came? To subject me to an inquisition?”

Rhaenys is shattered when she leaves, not necessarily because of Alyn and the confrontation, but because she feels like everything she’s held on to so tightly, through all the pain and loss, is slipping through her fingers. She’s coming undone, falling apart. She’s lost so much, and she’s feeling like she’s losing her husband, her marriage, too, despite the love they share.

Corlys looks after her with his lost puppy eyes, feeling helpless. How can I fix this?

that was my rambling for today. still processing. rest in peace, my queen.

[libby-for-life]

can we PLEASE get a part 2 of Adam being given to Lucifer and Lilith as a peace offering, maybe it would be about the two yandere trying to woo Adam, OH or maybe throwing a party for him introducing him as the second queen of hell

My my. You are a genius, my dear. Though I was thinking more Consort to the King and Queen. Read part one of the Deal.

Adam was confused, to say the least. Didn't they hate him? Didn't they leave him? Didn't they want him dead?

But as he was hugged by Lucifer and Lilith in the back of a limousine, he couldn't help but feel very confused. He shivered when he felt Lucifer's claws gently run through his hair and how Lilith's soothing humming filled the car.

"You're still so beautiful," Lucifer said, hugging him and Lilith brushed a hand over his toned stomach.

"Wait. Just wait." Adam gasped out as he felt hands roam over him. They stopped immediately and looked at him in concern. "Why are you acting like you want me all of a sudden? You made it quite clear in the Garden you didn't want me." Adam felt the hurt, bitterness, and self-loathing seep into his body.

They were quiet for a moment before he felt a clawed hand pull his face down to Lucifer's level. "Adam, we never wanted you to feel that way and we're sorry we did. We wanted you with us, but the moment we tried, Michael banned us from the Garden." Lucifer explained.

"Everything happened so fast," Lilith added. "And by the time we were banished to Hell, we had already lost you."

Adam refused to cry. What if this was a lie to lead him into a false sense of security? He had to be resilient. He had to be strong-willed. But as he felt hands caress him so lovingly, Adam felt himself melting. God forgive him, but he was a sucker for touch.

The next few months were filled with confusion and longing. He didn't trust Lucifer and Lilith but they were the only ones keeping him safe from the dangers of Hell. What if he refused them too much and he was kicked out of their home?

So when Lilith kissed his cheek, it took all of his self-control to not run away. She looked deep into his eyes and she frowned.

"I'm sorry. I went too far. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." She didn't try to kiss him again but she also didn't stop saying she loved him. Neither of them did.

Slowly, but surely, Adam realized they weren't just keeping him as some sort of sick entertainment. No one could be this good at acting and not show any tells.

So, Adam allowed them to touch him. He allowed them to give him presents instead of refusing them. He allowed them to say the words, "I love you."

And one day, he said it back. Two years. It took him two years of them consistently loving him unconditionally, but when they ate breakfast together and Lucifer gave him some pancakes to eat, his favorite, the Devil told Adam that he loved him.

Asam smiled with a blush staining his cheeks and shyly replied, "I love you, too." Lucifer dropped his syrup and Lilith choked on her tea. "What?" Lucifer asked in a small voice.

"I love you. Both of you."

Lilith smiled and hugged him close while Lucifer teared up and clung to his side. "We love you. We love you so much, Adam."

Adam didn't notice the obsession growing in their eyes. He didn't notice how they held him possessively, demon features poking out. He just felt safe and protected.

"Are you sure this looks good on me? I'm not exactly...the right shape to be wearing this." Adam mumbled, embarrassed. He was wearing a short gold dress that hugged his chubby figure. Three years in Hell and he put on some weight from the treats and gifts through food he was given. He was by no means obese, but he was definitely chubby. He also grew more demonic, his soul becoming corrupted due to being exposed to Hell for so long. He now resembled a ram, with small curly horns, a fluffy black tail, hooves, and ram ears. Ears that Lucifer and Lilith loved playing with.

"Oh, Adam. You look beautiful no matter what size you are." Lilith said as she applied makeup to her lover. Adam smiled, blushing deeply at her comment.

"I agree. Besides, it just means more to hold." Lucifer said with a smirk before caressing a hand over his love handles. Adam squeaked and swatted his hand playfully.

They were getting ready for a big party. A party that was officially introducing Adam as the King and Queen of Hell's Consort. They wanted him to be their Queen as well, but Adam pointed out that was not how the ruling system worked. He read up on the ways of Hell's hierarchy and he did not want anyone rioting because the system wasn't being followed.

"This was the system you made, might I add," Adam said when Lucifer just said they could change it. "We want them to accept me. Not be angry because you don't follow your own rules."

They finally agreed to Adam being their Consort before making sure they knew he was still important and not less than them just because he wasn't a Queen with Lilith.

Adam honestly didn't care as long as he spent all his time with his lovers.

They walked into the Palace's ballroom where all of Hell's most important figures danced or talked with each other. They looked up and bowed before the King and Queen, but looked at Adam, confused as to why a sheep demon was walking alongside the most important figures in Hell.

"Everyone. Might I have your attention?" Lucifer said, gaining the room's attention. He brought Adam forward as he blushed under the attention. "This is Adam. He is Lilith's and mine's Consort." Several gasps had filled the room and some really looked at Adam, sizing him up.

Adam tried not to squirm under their piercing gaze.

"Now, if anyone has a problem, I don’t give a shit," Lucifer said with a grin. "Let the party begin!"

Adam was having fun! He danced with Lilith and Lucifer, ate good food, and even talked with some of the Hellborn Aristocrats but found them a bit judgemental.

It was a quarter to midnight when it happened. Adam was drinking some champagne and relaxing in a chair when he heard voices behind him.

"He doesn't look very pretty next to them. Far too fat next to the King and Queen of Hell."

"And so plain! Even makeup can't fix a fatass. A pig in a dress is still a pig."

"Do you think they even have sex with him?"

"Do you think he breaks the bed?"

Chuckles and whispers filled Adam's ears and he felt himself blush in shame. He knew it. He didn't deserve to stand next to demons so pretty and powerful.

"Adam? What's wrong?" Lucifer asked as he sat down next to him. "Nothing. Want to dance?" Adam tried to change the subject. He should have known Lucifer knew him too well to be swayed.

"Adam. You can tell me." Adam didn't say anything but Lucifer must have caught the whispering. His eyes turned red and he looked five seconds away from tearing them apart.

"Lucifer. Let it go. I don't want you killing them." Adam said firmly. Lucifer looked ready to argue but reluctantly agreed. "Fine. I won't kill them. But I want you to come with me." Adam was led away to a spare bedroom, but not before a quick mind message to Lilith was made.

'Some scum are insulting Adam. Take out the trash.'

Lilith smirked as an image of the demons responsible for making her lamb cry was revealed. She gently excused herself from the demon she was talking to before making her way over to the demons laughing in a corner. Time to make a public example.

Everyone turned when they heard screams fill the ballroom. They turned to see Lilith holding three decapitated heads in one gloved hand. She was smiling and looked at everyone as if she hadn't just brutally killed three powerful members of the Goetia Household.

"Now, these three died because they insulted my Consort. That simply won't do." She burnt the corpses and the heads in purple fire. "Anyone who insults my Consort will suffer the same fate. Are we clear?"

Everyone was quick to give them their reply while she laughed. "Wonderful! Have you tried the cake? Simply divine!"

"Ah~!" Adam moaned as he felt fingers dig into his hair and pull. He was always sensitive to touch like this.

"My beautiful lamb, I love you and your body." Lucifer purred and Adam moaned when a kiss was placed on his cheek. "Say you're the cutest lamb, my love. Say it."

"I'm the cutest lamb!" Adam cried when his neck was bitten. "Good boy~."

Lilith had told him that she had killed the demons who hurt Adam and even showed an image of their burnt ashes before it was cleaned up along with their blood.

No one could hurt Adam. No one.

"Ready to get out of this dress, my little lamb?"

"Ah~!"

[janus-cadet]

So, I've been watching Hazbin Hotel, and Helluva Boss.

Loved it. Therefore, obviously, to none of my friends' surprise, I added the fandom in that nonsensical tarot project of mine- and it starts with Lucifer, the short king himself, as the Five of Cups.

(The Devil was already taken, which both caused me immense amont of dismay, and just as much relief, because that version of Lucifer does NOT fit the Devil card as much as he could.)

Now, under the cut (only for the braves who can handle a long post spoken in broken english), the mandatory explanation for the choice of the card and the composition.

A joyous card, isn't it! Ahah? Totally. Let's get right into it.

The Five of Cups, Upright, often appears in a reading when a situation hasn't turned out the way you expected, leaving you sad, regretful and disappointed. I mean, you just gave one (1) apple to humanity, just to give them free will, and look what they did with it! What the hell, literally! You are blaming yourself, and instead of moving on with your life (despite the small inconvenience of being banished to an endless pit of evil and horror), you ar choosing to wallow in your self-pity. All you can focus on right now is what went wrong and how you failed. You're stuck in the past, and you can't let go; old wounds you never closed are keeping you from trying to create some positive changes. Which is why the card is here: to help you forgive. Forgiveness, to others and to yourself, is the only way you'll be able to release yourself from your sadness and disappointment. Remember that foresight and wisdom in the present moments comes from mistakes of the past: reflect on what led you to this point, and try to find something positive by reflecting on the lessons learned. You can rebuilt, you still can challenge an unfair system, despite everything! New possibilities are waiting for you, as shown by your daughter. You just have to be ready to accept it. Shift your mindset and focus on what can go right from this point forward.

Reversed, the card suggests that you might look at yourself specifically as a failure. You are stuck in a loop of self-loathing, and can't bring yourself to open up to others about those feelings. The reversed Five of Cups card is here to encourage you to open up: people around you may not see how much pain you're in right now, so don't be afraid to ask for help or talk to someone you trust.

You cannot undo the past, and just as Lucifer at the end of the first season, you are starting to accept that. You are slowly discovering how to be open to the new opportunities and ideas shown to you; you are finally starting to be more hopeful anout the future. You may not be fully okay again, you might still be in pain, but you are taking the first step: the card encourage you to keep doing so. Focus on the bright side. Not all is lost!

Lot of talks already, so I'll quickly go over those. The cups (that I spend too long on for such a small detail in the whole piece agh agh) are, as I drew them, a symbols of the regrets and the remorses felt. The regrets are the titled, broken cups: Lucifer's marriage, his relation with his daughter, and the dreams he had as an angel. Three things that feels like they are lost, damaged beyond repairs- but that are, in fact, still within reach. The content hasn't even spill yet. The remorses are the acts that can't be undone, and the effect on the vision he has of himself- the bitten apple, and the beastly devil that can't be trust. Those are te things he keeps blaming himself for, and the source of the self-loathing he's stuck into. But! He's turning his back on them, as a way to show he is not as linked to those things as he thinks he is. One is a thing of the past, the other is merely a shadow of who he is- what's important is what lays in front of him.

And that's it for today! You're still here? Dang, you're resilient. Thank you very much, hope you enjoyed this. And you're just in time for a little ending poll!

See, I started two other WIPs while drawing Lucifer. Therefore...

[sugurushairtye]

Meta on the symbolism of the bamboo hat in tgcf

"Man in the abyss recieves a bamboo hat in rain"

While the simple act of receiving a bamboo hat illustriously reinstated xie lian's belief towards the prevalence of kindness leaping over the barbed fences of impending doom and essentially pulled him out of the harrowing chokehold of the abyss both metaphorically and literally, however when xie lian mirrored the same action towards jun wu, he seemed to have missed the boat with his inherent rejection of the heart being buoyant in the echelons of paradise even when the body is drilled into the deafening isolation of the abyss.

And it's interesting how the entire exchange of events of the final battle takes place on the desecrated heaven-crossing bridge that was originally designed to relocate the helpless and desperate to the safe hands of 'paradise'/heaven, yet the ones battling on its stairs (xie lian and mu qing) were restricted with cursed shackles infused with a reminder of their banishment, them being rejected by the gallant gates of heaven, nailing them to the 'abyss'. (Like isn't it ironic how jw constructed the bridge for his people to migrate to heaven yet, right now jw barred xl and mq from entering heaven bc he banished them and also voluntarily attempted to drown them into the /abyss/ bc the void beneath the bridge was saturated with resentful spirits inhabiting the scorching lava) Which is predominantly why xie lian's cursed shackles shattering on the same bridge is a symbolism of his ever-so anticipated liberation.

"Indomitable to the point he couldn't control his own powers, each step would shake the mountains. One step to go a thousand miles, one step to ascend to the heavens!"

On the ghastly intersection of lang-er bay, white-no-face pulled the sword out of xie lian, however that didn't relieve him of his resentment laced with pain or pull him out of the abyss; the bamboo hat did and it figuratively functioned as a catalyst to restore his (otherwise dissipating) faith in the amicability of humanness. On the heaven-crossing bridge however, xie lian never attempted to pull the sword out of jun wu, doing so wouldn't have reversed his pain that had morphed into dejection and vengeance culminating in his system for centuries, or introduced him to the compassion of humanness anew, instead xl gave him the bamboo hat.

"To ascend is human; to fall is also human". Xie lian covering jun wu with the bamboo hat that once restored his faith in humanity was ultimately washed away by the tides of futility, for jun wu's transcendence into destruction dehumanised him beyond repair as he ultimately fell. Jun wu never needed cursed shackles to restrain himself, his unceasingly vague sense of identity had trapped him into an echochamber of self-loathing and violence mirroring the barbaric slaughtering of ghosts trapped in the kiln of mount tong'lu, or the blunt shards of glasses bearing the monstrous image of his own reflection.

Xie lian didn't need an article such as a bamboo hat to hold onto as a reminder to not go astray anymore, he held onto that hat for centuries and with time he had to leave it behind with someone because now he had hua cheng by his side who'd always be the indestructible pillar of support for him to hold onto.

[destinysbounty]

I feel like you could fix a lot of the Fire Chapter's major issues with just three minor changes:

Include a scene where Lloyd makes an appeal to Wu about how harsh he's been on the ninja regarding their supposed laziness. Here, Lloyd mentions that due to all the near-death experiences and periods of loss/separation they endured throughout the Oni Trilogy, the ninja have realized the importance of spending time together and forming meaningful memories. You never know if the next mission might be someone's last, right? So they've been goofing off in an attempt to make up for lost time and make some fond memories to share. Wu softens up a bit at this and gently concedes that their reasoning is completely understandable, but still suggests that they find a more constructive bonding exercise that will allow them to stay in shape. And thus they go on their little desert road trip. It wouldn't even have to be a long or super emotional scene. Just a few lines of dialogue, a few lingering shots, maybe a quick trill of sentimental music, and then boom you're done. This would make Wu feel less insensitive and out-of-character, would be a quick and simple way to address the emotional fallout of the Oni Trilogy, and would also justify the more goofy, lighthearted tone of the season - the ninja aren't just 'slacking off', they're acting like this on purpose

When Lloyd and Kai are having that argument about Kai's attitude towards losing his powers, give Kai an emotional outburst. In the heat of the moment he confesses that the reason he's so upset about losing his powers is because this time he's the only one. Every other time he lost his powers, the rest of the team did too (ex. the Tournament of Elements, Lloyd's possession, etc.). But now he's the only powerless one here, and he feels like the weakest link. He's the one who needs protecting. He's now worried that if something happens to his friends, it'll be his fault because he wasn't strong enough to protect them. This would not only make Kai feel less whiny, but also enables him to a marginally more satisfying character arc during the Ice Chapter as he blames himself for Zane's banishment. Not to mention that now we can characterize Kai getting upset at Wu as him projecting his guilt/self-loathing onto the only other person he can blame besides himself. Instead of confronting the insecurity that all of this is his fault, he lashes out at Wu.

Make Aspheera a human. Or like, literally anything but a snake. Seriously, we've have enough Serpentine villains, give it a rest already. Her being a Serpentine doesn't significantly impact the story in any way, and aside from giving us a bit more lore regarding Serpentine history, it doesn't add anything to the season or to her character either. You could just as easily achieve the same complexities and depth by making her human, sustained in her tomb for all those centuries by her dark magic. Seriously. Aspheera doesn't need to be a snake. The Serpentine have already been redeemed. Leave them alone.

There are a few more changes you could make here and there, obviously, and this doesn't fix everything, but I feel like this is a quick and easy way to repair a lot of the major complaints regarding the Fire Chapter. The Ice Chapter, on the other hand, is...a bit trickier. But that's a topic for another post.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Checkmate Ch 23

AN: Well, this is the penultimate chapter. Apologies for the late update. Have some gratuitous Jotunn Loki Smut!

This series is un-Beta'd. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Mood board by me but photo credits to those who took them.

Series Master list | Chapter 22

CW: Jotunn!Loki, Angst, Smut (Danger kink, Temperature play, Vaginal Fingering, Male Masturbation)

Word count: 1.8k

Loki stood leaning against a bookcase, watching Chess as she muttered to herself, whilst flicking backwards and forwards through several books spread across the dining table.

“What are you up to, my love?”

He took a few steps forward to try and work it out.

“Hhm? Pardon?”

She blinked up at him, coming back from where ever she had been in her head. Smiling indulgently, he slid into the seat next to her and pulled the closest book towards him. ‘A history of Jotunheim’. His smile faltered slightly.

“Why do you have this?”

He tried to keep his tone light, but he couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice.

“Research, darling. I’m trying to learn more about the Nine Realms, and understand the Asgardians I am working with. And is it a bad thing to understand more about the culture my partner was born into?”

“Whatever you want, darling.”

He placed a kiss on the top of her head and pushed up from the table.

“I’ll let you get on with it then. I think I’m going to go and have a lie-down. I have a bit of a headache.”

She watched him walk away and as he shut the door behind himself,

Chess let out a sigh. She’d been holding off on her research into Jotunheim, because she knew he’d react badly. She thought it would actually have been easier if he had got angry; this strange quietness was far more unsettling.

Ten minutes went by, and as she realised that she had been reading the same passage over and over, she closed the book and pushed it away. As she walked towards the bedroom she pulled the hairband off of her ponytail, lightly massaging the back of her skull where the hair had been pulled tight. She shook her hair out so it swirled around her shoulders and pushed open the door.

Loki was lying on his side on the bed, slightly curled around on himself, staring blankly towards the en-suite, and worrying the tip of his thumb.

She climbed onto the bed behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling herself as close up behind him as she could. His free arm came to rest over hers and he intertwined their fingers. They lay in silence for a while before he rolled over to face her.

“I’d always felt different. Nothing I ever did was good enough for Odin and I spent most of my life trying to work out what I had done wrong. I tried being the same as Thor, hanging out with his friends, and I tried being different from him, trying to be good at the things he wasn’t. No matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t get Odin’s approval and I started acting out, like a child. So New Mexico happened and Odin told me about my parentage and I just lost it. So pathetic.”

He screwed his face up, his self-loathing evident.

“And then it just got worse. My hatred of Thor and Odin lead to my mother’s death, and I still blamed Odin, and banished him here to Midgard and…”

Chess placed her fingers on his lips.

“Sshh, love. It’s okay.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Francesca.”

“You don’t need to apologise. You’ve been through a great emotional trauma. If your father were still alive, I would not hesitate to give him a piece of my mind.”

A small smile played at the edges of Loki’s lips.

“I would pay all the gold in the Nine Realms to see you chastising the Allfather. My mother would have really liked you!”

“I’d give Laufey a piece of my mind too. Who leaves their child to die because at birth they don’t fit some stupid ideals of how they should look.”

She brushed a lock of his hair back from his face. “I am certain that I would find you just as beautiful and alluring in your natural form, as I find you in this one….and your female form.”

He took her hand and clasped it between both of his.

“I somehow doubt that, love. My Jotunn form is monstrous and unsightly.”

“No, Loki. I don’t think it is. I think you think that, because you were raised to view Frost Giants that way, and you have never been able to reconcile yourself with the fact that you are what you were raised to fear and despise.”

A frown marred his features and his lips pursed slightly.

“You think I am wrong in this? No, you would be disgusted and terrified.”

She glared at him and pulled her hand away.

“Do not presume to tell me how I would feel. But if you are so sure, then prove it! Show me your hideous real self!”

He jumped up from the bed, anger and unacknowledged fear shaking his body. He shed his clothes as he went, uncharacteristically letting them fall where they landed.

“Remember, ildflue, you wanted to see this!”

He threw back his shoulders and his pale skin started to change colour, slowly turning blue. He broadened and grew taller. Lines, in the shape of swirls and symbols appeared on his skin and his eyes glowed red, like embers. He stood, watching her, breathing deeply as wisps of water vapour swirled up from his skin in the warm summer air.

Chess knelt up on the bed, shuffling slightly to get nearer the edge, before lifting up her hand. She traced the marks across his chest with her index finger, goose-bumps racing up her arm as his coolness seeped into her flesh.

“Not terrified yet…”

Her voice was low and breathy. She leaned forward, but was stopped by cold searing into her shoulder. She looked up to see one of his large, cold, blue hands stopping her movement.

“What are you doing, little one?”

She turned her head to press kisses on his wrist and lower arm. He shuddered with the heat of each one.

“Showing you that you are still beautiful to me.”

She went to lean forward again, and this time he didn’t stop her, his face puzzled. But when the tip of her tongue made contact with one of the ridges in his skin his head fell back and he let out a lust filled moan. Chess trailed her fingers down his body until they found his cock. Her first few tentative touches had woken it up, but as the heat of her hand wrapped around the colder than normal length, it swiftly grew to full hardness.

Chess drew back from where her lips were trailing across his chest and collarbone to look down.

“Fuuuuck. Think I’m gonna have to work up to that.”

Her fingers couldn’t close around it, as it had increased in both length and girth with the rest of him. He grinned at her, showing off a row of sharp pointed teeth, and it felt as though his eyes were burning into her soul. She reached up with her free hand behind his neck, pulling his face down towards hers.

“Touch me”, she demanded before took his lips in an aggressive kiss.

He was still for a moment, and then he was moaning into the kiss, pulling her hips against him with one chilled hand on her ass, and using the other to draw patterns over a breast with the tip of his finger.

He circled her areole, feeling the sensitive skin pucker and draw up. As her nipple stiffened he moved to roll it gently between thumb and forefinger. Her cry was swallowed by his mouth and sharp, talon-like nails dug into her buttock as his fingers curled. Her hips rutted against his chilled thigh, desperate for friction.

Loki broke the kiss and moved back onto the bed, pushing Chess down to lie on her back. He took hold of her wrists and with one massive hand pinned them to the bed above her head. He dragged the nail of his index finger gently down her body from neck to thigh and she whined underneath him.

“Careful, my love”, he growled out. “I wouldn’t want to accidently cut you.”

He continued to draw patterns over her skin, alternating between the cold pads of his fingers and sharp tips of his nails. He dipped his head down and circled a nipple with his tongue, before latching on and drawing as much of the peak as possible into the burning cold of his mouth. Her whole body arched up and she cried out loudly.

“Uh, Loki! So cold!”

He raised his head and looked at her.

“You want me to stop love?”

A note of worry was evident in his voice.

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

And she pushed his roving hand towards where she wanted it. He took her hint and trailed his fingers over her mound, and pressed his lips to her other breast.

She writhed under his touch as her skin heated from her arousal and then chilled where his flesh met hers. His hand teased her, fingers trailing lightly over her outer lips as she bucked up towards him. She could feel herself closing in on her climax, but needed more.

“Please, Loki, stop teasing.”

His chuckle rumbled deeply in his chest and he, finally, pressed his fingers between her folds. His chuckle turned to a groan as he felt her wetness. He carefully pressed one thick finger inside her and pressed his thumb against her clit.

He knew she was close but it took him by surprise when she literally screamed his name, convulsed around his finger and fell still. His head shot up and he immediately released her wrists.

“Francesca?”

Her eyes were closed and her features slack. Panic started to rise within him. He slid his finger free of her body and scrabbled up on his knees. His eyes darted all over her. Had he injured her? What had happened? His thumb brushed over her cheekbone.

“Sweetheart?”

He couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief when her eyelids fluttered and she looked up at him, eyes unfocused and slightly glassy. A large smile spread over her face. And that’s when he realised. She’d fainted. She’d actually come so hard, she’d passed out. Part of him was terrified, but another part of him, the feral part, found it arousing. He had been responsible for that pleasure. Her tongue peeped out of her mouth to wet her dry lips.

“That was monstrous and terrifying. Monstrously and terrifyingly good. But next time, please, I want your cock…speaking of which…”

She looked down to where his erection still stood proud against him.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea at this moment in time, but if you want, I can tell you how that orgasm felt and you can come all over me?”

He answered her with an animalistic grin as he took himself in his fist.

Chapter 24

Tag list: @sidepartskinnyjeans @christywantspizza @turbolisedcomet @animnerd @goldylions @viva-asgardia

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

I know we are all discussing the latest episode of Season 16, but I need to wrap up 11 for my own sanity (because there is a LOT to discuss in my Season 12 rewatch already), so without further ado - more rambling for you.

I’m not going to include 11x20: Don’t Call Me Shurley because I think I’d like to do an entire Chuck - arc - series.  Rob Benedict is a gift; that dad mug kills; and I love that the fan theories about Chuck spinning around this fandom for years turned out to be correct after all (WEIRD HOW THAT HAPPENS WITH CHARACTERS EH).  Moving on.

As you will recall, two recaps and many many many crackhead other posts from my corner of super hell ago, I ended the 11x18 recap with this image of Amara realizing...”something” after Dean said Cas’s name (just before she took Casifer with her), Dean/Amara unbreakable connection be damned. Speaking of unbreakable connection this post is partially the AMARA DISSERTATION.  Buckle up.

FF to 11x21: All in the Family; the boys are shooting the shit with Chuck and in the meantime, Amara is torturing Casifer.  Important to note that just recently the actual Cas was enlightened that Dean wants him to cast Lucifer out, so I presume he is a little more active at this point, and that strengthens the following hypothesis.  Look how Amara is looking at Casifer here:

And here, right before she touches him on the chest.

It’s the same look she gave Dean. She’s trying to decipher something; trying to figure something out. 

She appears to Dean in the VERY next scene, to show him how she is torturing Casifer.  But the real point is, of course, to show him how its affecting the physical form of Cas, reminding him its not just Lucifer who is suffering.  It works.  

DEAN 

Amara is – she's in my head. [Sam looks at him sharply] Hey, I didn't ask for it, okay? She just showed up. But she's showing me visions of – of Lucifer. By Lucifer, I mean Cas, and he looks like crap – like she's really doing a number on him.

***Note, yet again, despite the *connection* Amara/Dean supposedly share, all he can think about and talk about is Cas.

And Amara knows it.  That’s the realization she has in 11x18.  Dean loves Cas.  Then, in 11x21 she realizes Cas loves Dean.  So, she uses it to her own ends.  Smart girl.  

Enter Donatello (I love him), prophet of (not) the Lord.  He, Metatron, and Sam set out to rescue Casifer while Dean distracts Amara.  If we start with the presumption she now has the prior additional insight, the following snippets of dialogue hit a little different.

AMARA

This place, this world hasn't been especially easy for you. Why not at least consider my offer?

*********

DEAN

You're right. I am drawn to you. And it bothers the hell out of me, 'cause I can't control it.

AMARA

Then why fight it? What you're feeling is that I am the end of your struggle. 

***AHEM, this was not the FACE CUPPING I requested.

What keeps Dean from having it all?  What is his struggle?  It’s not the monsters or the hunting.  Dean’s repeatedly shown he loves this life; he doesn't want anything else (and the one time he did try it in Season 6, it was half-ass at best, and he left the minute Sam returned to go back to hunting).  Dean’s KEY struggle in the show is internal.  He represses his feelings, pushes his pain aside, resulting in a cycle of self-loathing and anger.  That cycle keeps him from having it all - accepting he can be loved, allowing himself to give his heart to someone else.  And at this point, Amara not only knows that someone else is Cas, she knows that Cas feels the same way.  Girl, welcome to super hell.  Take a damn seat by Sam.

11x22: We Happy Few

I’ll skim through this one so this post doesn’t completely make your eyes bleed due to the sheer length.  

The splicing with the scenes of everyone assembling different factions to form the new “line-up” needed to trap Amara is excellent. I’ve already done a short post on the brilliance of Dean heading to get Crowley and the ex-boyfriend mood of it all (Dean, of all people, telling Crowley to sober up gives me an ENTIRE head canon of the Crowley/demon!Dean unseen dynamic in Season 10).   And of COURSE Dean knows exactly what to say to convince Crowley to get on board. I also enjoy our future Sam-witch as the emissary to Rowena (”three’s a coven” would be a great tattoo, TBH).

BONUS:

I love her.

Big fight scene with Amara ensues, but this isn’t the finale so she cannot be beaten.  However, right before she mortally wounds Chuck, she does this:

[Yelling, LUCIFER charges her from behind again, but AMARA flings him hard against a support pillar across the room.]

AMARA

Goodbye, nephew.

[She banishes LUCIFER. CASTIEL slumps unconscious to the floor.]

DEAN: Cas! 

(He rushes AMARA, but she flings him away without effort.)

***She banishes Lucifer.  She could have just killed him.  Ended him entirely, and Cas along with him.  But she BANISHES LUCIFER.  Because of what she learned in the prior episode.  Because of the pain she saw in both of those idiots.

She does this for Dean.

Anyway, thank you Casifer FOR YOUR SERVICE.  I miss you already.

11x23: Alpha and Omega

There is nothing more precious than Dean sending his brother to check on GOD while he goes to check on his boyfriend:

DEAN: [Grunting]

Check on him.

SAM: [kneels next to Chuck]

Hey. Chuck?

[Dean kneels down next to Cas and puts a hand on his shoulder. Cas stirs and looks up at Dean]

CAS:

Dean.

DEAN:

Cas? Hey, is that you?

***All the heart eyes for the reunion!!

*********ALSO SHOULDERRRRRRRR

Chuck is dying, Rowena bonds with him.  Crowley is gold in this finale.  I MISS YOU MARK.  This line is NOT in the transcript/script I used, and it potentially being ad libbed makes it even better.

Dean decides to deal with the end of the world by drinking ONE beer, then deciding there is “not enough” beer and grabbing Cas for a beer (and....*feelings*) run.

DEAN:

You know what? This isn't gonna be enough. I better make a run.

[Sighs]

No reason to die sober, huh?

[to Sam]

You want to?

SAM: [frustrated] 

No!

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

DEAN:

Be right back.

SAM:

I'll stay here, find our Plan B.

DEAN:

Okay. Cas, come on.

Nothing makes me more pleased than the assumption that of COURSE Cas is coming with him.  I mean, he just got him back.  Also, Sam is frustrated because he is back in super hell, obvi ;)   

***Now we have the little “you’re our brother” bit in the Impala beer run dialogue, but to me it’s because Dean doesn’t know how else to express what he’s feeling.  Repression, people.  

The look of literal PAIN on Cas’s face at the “brother” line makes me cackle.  Misha Collins DESERVES AN EMMY; he is doing the Lord’s work with his Acting Choices here.

This little part before is what really gets me though, especially with all of the WORDS OF AFFIRMATION:

[Dean and Cas are driving in the Impala]

DEAN:

How you doing? You good?

I mean, you know, the whole Lucifer thing.

CAS:

I was just... so stupid.

DEAN:

No, no, no. It wasn't stupid.

You were right. You were right to let Lucifer ride shotgun.

Me and Sam wouldn't have done that.

CAS:

Well, it didn't work.

DEAN:

No, but it was our best shot, and you stepped up.

CAS:

I was just trying to help.

DEAN:

Well, and you do help, Cas.

***ITS JUST SO LOVELY.  Dean asking Cas how he is doing (what Cas always asks Dean); telling Cas he wasn’t stupid (throwback to Cas telling Dean he was stupid “for the right reasons”); acknowledging that Cas does HELP.  That he is important and appreciated.  THIS IS SUCH GROWTH.  I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Speak his love language, King.

Anyway, then Dean turns into a human bomb because martyr!dean gonna martyr and be “daddy’s (Chuck filling that role here) blunt little weapon” and we get -

THE DESTIEL GOODBYE. Tell me they didn’t actually go canon for the FIRST time here.  I will fight you.

LOOK at Cas watching him in the background. 

These fucking desolate eyes. I’m crying.

THEY JUST GOT EACH OTHER BACK -  

(I recognize this .gif is meh quality but I love that he turns and walks to him and Cas just GRABS him in this crushing hug)

DEAN [accepts the hug good-naturedly but then looks sad]

Okay, okay.

***”good naturedly??? ok Jensen “Acting Choices” Ackles. That is not “good nature” that is BLISS.

AND THEN THIS -

SOBS IN ENOCHIAN.

***I literally had to remind myself that the reunion hug is coming; it’s just an episode away.  I’ll make y’all feel better too; here it is - A PERFECT PARALLEL. Curse this show.

MORE OF THIS “GOOD NATURED” HUGGING PLEASE.

Anyways, back to depressing subtext.  

DEAN:

Okay, look. I want a big funeral.

All right? I'm talking epic.

Okay? Open bar, choir, Sabbath cover band, and Gary Busey reading the eulogy.

*****This scene lives in my mind rent-free as PROOF 15x20 doesn’t exist.

I can’t skip over further growth in Dean’s goodbye to Sammy.

***He’s being serious. Seasons 1-3 Dean would never have admitted this.  I was a blubbering mess at this point.

So, Dean heads to Amara, and the rest of the gang heads to the bar.

CROWLEY:

Your round, Moose.

***I would love an entire bottle episode of Crowley, Sam, Rowena, and Chuck at that bar TBH.

And then, Dean saves the day.  BUT NOT by dying and sacrificing himself, letting himself be used as a weapon of mass destruction.  No, he fixes the DAMN WORLD by connecting to Amara emotionally, and bringing her and Chuck back together, because he understands that not to be alone is what she really needs; that her own struggle is the same as his - letting in love instead of raging against it and fighting her own need for companionship.   Because that’s where ELDEST SIBLING AMARA AND Dean Winchester CONNECT.  Amara isn’t in love with Dean.  She identifies with Dean.  She sees her own feelings in him, her own pain, and that’s why she exorcises Lucifer and saves Cas - FOR Dean.  Amara’s just a Dean girl, everyone.   And we know Dean girls protect Cas at all costs.

Yup.  Amara Dean Girl Darkness Heller.  

That’s it.  That’s the dissertation.

See you in Season 12, where I will attempt to figure out the reason behind the British Men of Letters, killing Hitler, the brain melt that is Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox, the comedy of errors that is Cas playing Dean hot and cold, and the Mary Winchester of it all. 

[thewriterisalwayswrite]

One More

Summary:  Janus finds himself helping several idiots with their problems, and possibly accidentally falling for them as well.

Pairings: DLAMP

TW: Self-harm, EDs

Word count: 3264

AO3

A/N: I’ve never posted a fic to tumblr before, so let me know if I did something wrong. This is my @sanderssides-secretsanta gift to @count-woelaf. Hope you like it!

The quiet smack that came from the other side of the room as he whipped the script into the wall seemed to reverberate in his ears. Roman sunk slowly down against the wall, allowing his face to fall into his hands. 

This was the part of the theater he didn’t like. The part where he sat alone in the silent auditorium hours after the rest of the cast had left, crushing self-loathing taking over as he slipped out of character. 

Ah, if only his boyfriends were here. They were particularly good at helping him up, which usually involved spoiling him in ways he was confident he didn’t deserve. A smile graced his features at the pleasant memories, but it didn’t really help him now. Virgil, Patton and Logan had long since gone home, and here he was, likely the last person in the building, acting pathetic over nothing. 

He scrubbed at his face as he felt hot tears starting to leak out of his eyes, black makeup coming off on the sleeves of his white shirt. He sighed. Who knew if that would be coming out. 

He reached his arms up in the air, stretching out and letting out a little groan but quickly put them back down upon hearing one of the many doors creak open. He felt blood rush to his face, he was Roman Prince for goodness sake. He wasn’t supposed to be seen like this, crying in an empty theater. 

If it was possible for him to feel even worse, that was achieved when he saw who had opened the door. 

Head of hair and makeup crews for the production, half covered in burn scars, and painfully sarcastic. Roman had never been fond of the kid, and now even less so to have such a vulnerable moment intruded on. 

Roman swiped at his face one more time before donning his persona- Roman Prince. Lead of the show. Confident. Had every right to be sitting alone in the school auditorium at 10:46 PM if he so pleased. The only thing hinting that anything might have been out of the ordinary would be the dark streaks dripping down his face. “Can I help you?”

Janus’s only reaction was to raise one eyebrow. Roman scowled at him. 

Janus had to admit, this was an interaction he had never expected to be having. Roman Prince, so insistent on maintaining his clearly fabricated persona, vulnerable and crying on the ground after school. 

Not that Janus had any room to speak poorly of fabricated personas. 

He looked back at Roman, who was getting to his feet, seemingly a little wobbly. On instinct, Janus took his hand, helping him up. 

His eyes were grey. And they were much lovelier than Janus thought grey eyes had any right to be. Janus was fairly confident that the realization would have turned his face pink if not for the scarring. 

The ugly scarring, not that that was important right now. It did have its uses, though.

Roman shook his head out a little, shaking off the lingering heavy emotion and looking into Janus’s face. 

His eyes were still sad.

Janus sighed, unknowingly accepting responsibility for this boy tonight. “Did you drive here today?”

“Yes.”

Janus frowned. “Let me take you to your boyfriend’s house. You look like maybe you could use it, and you probably shouldn't be driving. You look wiped.”

Roman puffed up his chest, opening his mouth to argue before he deflated and nodded. 

Janus gave a soft smile. “Excellent. Which house did you want me to take you to?”

“Virgil?”

Janus cringed. He had… history with that boy, but he nodded. This was about Roman. He put a hand around the other’s shoulders, taking him out to the car.

When they’d arrived, Roman offered a quiet thank you, which rather surprised Janus. He felt he could count the number of times Roman had said thank you or apologized on one hand, but maybe he just… hadn’t been listening. Hadn’t been looking. 

Maybe he’d never really seen Roman before.

But then Roman closed the door, offering a little wave, and the illusion was shattered.

---

“Any particular reason our resident nerd is skipping lunch for the fourth time this week?”

Logan sighed as he turned his head away from his laptop and towards the boy who’d just slid into a seat next to him. “I have to finish this project. I would appreciate it if you could refrain from bothering me.”

Janus let out a faux-offended gasp, cementing in Logan the knowledge that his request would go unfulfilled. He sighed in annoyance as Janus tugged lightly at a few of his long braids, before spinning to face him. 

His hair is pretty.

Janus quickly banished the unwelcome thought, confused as to why he’d think something like that in the first place, but was quickly pulled back into reality by Logan’s smooth, deep voice. 

“Can I do something for you?”

“Yes. You can eat.”

“I’m not hungry. Besides, I am extremely busy.”

“That’s what you told your boys, huh? And they believed you?”

“Naturally. In our relationship, we share something called respect for boundaries. Perhaps you’ve heard of it.”

Most would have been put off by Logan’s icy tone, but Janus just ignored it and continued. Though if you asked him, he hardly could have said why. He had no reason to care whether Logan Sanders ate lunch, whether his jeans continued to get loose or if his boyfriends knew and were helping. But for some odd reason, his brain was insisting he step in. 

Logan didn’t seem to be in the stage of even realizing that a problem existed yet, but fortunately Janus had a solution. He reached into his bag, producing a plastic water bottle, which he handed off to Logan. 

Logan took it, eyed it for a moment, considering, then removed the cap and downed over half before setting it back down, raking his fingernails over the smooth plastic. 

Ah. That made sense. 

“Bad sensory day?”

There was a moment of silence, and he wondered if he’d lost Logan before he heard a soft, “It’s hard.”

Janus sighed in relief. At least he had somewhere to go if he knew the cause of the issue. “And what are your safe foods?”

Logan looked surprised for a moment that Janus knew to ask such a question, before giving a hesitant answer. “Plain noodles. Bread.” 

“Excellent.”

He opened his phone, finding the nearest place to get plain noodles and placing an order. “There, so I did that, I’m gonna go get it for you. Sit tight.”

Logan froze. “That’s… hardly necessary, Janus. I don’t expect that of you.”

“I know,” he answered, standing and leaving before Logan could try to persuade him not to. 

When he returned, noodles in hand, Logan was looking back at his computer, if not with the same intensity as before. Janus looked over his shoulder, making sure everything was saved before shutting the laptop. 

“There. Food,” he informed him, setting the hot container in Logan’s lap. Logan looked at it. 

“How much?”

“You’re not paying me back. You’re not even thinking about it. Because you’re going to put that down your throat right the fuck now.”

Logan didn’t need to be told twice, and Janus soon had a satisfied smirk on his face from how quickly Logan was eating. It barely took a few minutes for him to finish, and Janus took the plastic box, tossing it in the nearest trash. 

“And that was your first meal in how long?”

“Three days.”

“Let me rephrase. That was your first real meal in how long?”

Logan looked down, uncomfortable, before mumbling, “Nearly two weeks.”

“Mhm.”

He placed the water bottle back into Logan’s hand, who looked surprised to see it before finishing the rest and setting it down. 

Satisfied, Janus watched as Logan spun the ring on his finger, looking a little out of it. He supposed that was fine. Logan spent far too much time doing far too many things, it would be good for the guy to zone out once or twice. 

They sat in a comfortable silence until the bell rang, and Janus offered a hand, walking Logan to his next class. 

So what if that made him late for his?

---

Patton let out a quiet sigh as he poked at his left wrist, swollen red lines protesting the motion. He pulled his sleeve a bit farther up, baring more marks and noting and appreciating how the bright color looked in contrast to his pale skin. 

He smiled softly as he scratched at the scabs, opening them up a bit and getting his hands just a little sticky. He let out a gentle sigh as he leaned against the wall, once again lazily checking if there were any people nearby. He didn’t notice anyone, so he took the clear to reach into his pocket for the blade he’d stowed there. 

He couldn’t press too hard, after all, he was just standing in the cool morning air before going into the school building for class, leaning against the cold, rough brick. But he did slowly move it over his wrist, tracing patterns that just barely broke the skin, only the barest amount of blood beading up. They would still scab up, which was all he really needed. 

All he really needed was to see the red lines, put there by himself. Because he controlled what happened to his body. It was his. At least it should have been, and this was him taking it back. 

He allowed his thoughts to wander as he carved in the haphazard swirls. This was a temporary habit. Soon, his body would do what he wanted it to, it would be up to him, and he wouldn’t have to take back autonomy with blades and lighters anymore. Someday, he’d get hormones and even surgery, and he’d just live his life without thinking about throwing himself off a high place every time his binder shifted. 

Speak of the devil. He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the restrictive fabric. It was good enough, he supposed. Kept him off the edge of suicide. 

He banished the thought from his mind, humming a calming tune as he continued to slice up his forearm. 

He should have told his boyfriends, he knew. They knew he self-harmed, and they knew he was trans, but he had a hard time telling them when he had an episode. The way Virgil would panic and demand to see, the way Logan would go cold and lecture him, the way Roman would tear up, lose his big, comforting presence and just look scared. 

He didn’t like seeing them like that, and he especially didn’t like when it was his fault. So he didn’t tell them when he did it. 

He was zoning out most of his surroundings, focusing on the sting, when he felt a light touch on his shoulder that made him jump. 

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” came a familiar buttery-smooth voice whose tone said that he didn’t care if he startled him or not. Patton sighed, dropping the blade into his pocket and dragging his sleeves down to his wrists. 

He used to be scared of Janus, a fact he wasn’t proud of. He was so aloof, like Virgil but… more so. And horrible as he knew it was, the scarring had put him off in the past. 

Fortunately, he knew better now. He no longer did a double take upon seeing his face, and once, he’d even stared at him and noted that he was- he was really lovely. 

But that didn’t matter right now.

One of Janus’s hands, clad in fingerless gloves, carefully took Patton’s hand in his, pulling the sleeve back once again. 

Patton thought briefly about stopping him, but honestly, why bother? Janus already knew, and besides, his touch was so gentle. 

Patton barely knew what was happening before something wet, cold and painful was being dragged across his arm. He let out a pitiful whimper as he pulled it back and looked up at Janus, who rolled his eyes and grabbed his arm a little more roughly. 

“It’s just an alcohol wipe. You didn’t cut too deep, but infections are never fun.”

“Oh.” Patton felt his face heat up a little from embarrassment, of what he wasn’t certain. Janus was quickly finished, though, tossing the wipe and pulling his sleeve back down over the evidence. He glanced at his phone, noting that they still had nearly fifteen minutes before the bell. 

Janus allowed a moment of silence before asking, “Do your boys know?”

Patton shrugged. “I mean, they technically know that it’s a thing that happens, but…” He trailed off, but Janus understood. 

“I see. And why don’t they?”

“Makes me uncomfortable.”

“Ah.”

Janus allowed them to fall into silence once more, before placing his hand on Patton’s shoulder again. “All they want is to help you.”

For a second he wasn’t sure Patton was going to respond at all, before he heard a faint, “I know.” He was staring intently at the ground. 

Janus had always been good at gauging situations, and this was no exception. He slowly snaked an arm around Patton’s shoulders, who let out a soft sigh. 

Janus carefully adjusted his voice to sound softer. More comforting. “Would it help if I told them for you?”

Patton didn’t look up, but he nodded. 

“Good. That’s very good, Patton. I’m proud of you.” 

Ugh. He cringed at his own words. When had he become so soft for these four? Wasn’t he supposed to be ‘cool’, or something along those lines? Hardened, at least. 

He discreetly pulled out his phone, shooting a message to the other three boys, the ones he’d grown too fond of for his own good. 

The responses were immediate, and upon being informed of their location, he carefully led Patton away. It was early in the morning, but Patton looked so, so drained.

It wasn’t long before he reached them. Roman and Logan, and thank goodness, no Virgil. Virgil was not fond of him. The two that were there looked really concerned. 

Janus, surprisingly enough, found himself reluctant to hand off Patton. 

Damn it. I’ve grown protective. 

Then again, it was practically impossible to see Patton vulnerable and not become attached and fiercely protective. No wonder he was dating three amazing guys. 

Janus assured himself that Patton had what he needed, and in an amazing show of self-control, gave Patton a gentle push towards the other two. 

He quickly latched onto Roman, already crying softly. Janus watched as Roman rubbed Patton’s back and stroked his fingers through his hair. He knew he shouldn’t be watching, that he should go, but Roman lifted his head and mouthed, “Thank you.”

Janus felt heat creeping into his cheeks, so he offered a signature finger-wave and turned on his heel, only to realize after he was out of their sight that his class was on the other side of the school. 

---

Virgil sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he finally exited the school building, blinking in confusion upon finding it dark. He hadn’t been that long, had he? Only had to retake an exam he’d done poorly on, and though algebra wasn’t his best subject, he’d thought he shouldn’t need more than an hour or two. 

He opened up his phone, obviously the first people he messaged were his boyfriends. He didn’t have a ride, and his father wouldn’t come for him this late.

Unfortunately, they weren’t available. Any of them. Unfortunate, but not the end of the world. He could always try Remy. 

Who was busy. 

Or Emile.

Who didn’t reply. 

He didn’t like Roman’s brother, but he was running out of options. Unfortunately, Remus couldn’t come either. 

Virgil glared angrily at his screen as he realized who he needed to ask. 

Slowly, he managed to convince himself to send a concise text. He had an answer not two minutes later.

“I’ll be there.”

He sighed, whether in relief or in fear he wasn’t certain.

The car pulled up shortly after, and Virgil let himself in. Janus drove away quickly, seemingly as ready as Virgil was for this drive to be over. 

They sat in a painful silence for a few minutes, Janus breaking it before immediately cringing at himself. 

“I like the purple.”

Virgil’s hand automatically moved to his hair, as he touched the newly dyed locks. “Thanks.”

The two lapsed back into silence. 

“Left here, right?”

“Yep.”

Virgil was a little surprised that Janus still remembered the drive. It had been awhile. 

They waited again, the quiet deafening. Janus finally pulled up to Virgil’s driveway, waiting for him to get out.

Virgil hesitated. 

“I missed you.”

Janus’s head snapped towards, Virgil, confusion and terrified hope. 

“It was a long time ago. I don’t hate you. Thanks for the ride.” he quickly got out, the breath of cold air assaulting Janus, but he ignored it as the door clicked shut.

Janus did not drive away for a very long time. 

---

It was Logan who reached out to him first. 

It had been a few days since his last interaction with any of the four, but oddly enough, Logan invited him to lunch.

He had half a mind to decline. Show them how much he cared. He didn’t want to sit through an awkward lunch, fifth-wheeling to boys he didn’t want to admit he cared for. 

Of course, his fingers did not listen and he ended up replying with an acceptance. 

Damn his fingers. Always knowing his true intentions. 

He frowned at the building, the restaurant he was meant to be meeting them in. 

His hands had never been this clammy before. Even when shamelessly flirting, he was usually able to keep his composure. But something about Logan, Roman, Patton and Virgil had him nervous. 

He finally managed to exit his car, entering the building and finding them, sliding into a seat. They were all already there. He gave a little wave. His face was burning, but at least they couldn’t see it. 

Roman gave him a big smile, one that looked more nervous than Janus had ever seen it, and Logan and Patton both offered a greeting. Then Logan asked some superficial question, and they fell into small talk. Which, oddly enough, Janus didn’t feel excluded from. This, oddly enough, didn’t at all feel like intruding on a relationship. Confusing.

His confusion was resolved several minutes later when Patton coughed and nudged Logan expectantly, who turned to Janus. 

Janus didn’t think he’d ever seen Logan look anxious before, but he did. They all did, and it was scaring him. 

“We, um- we had something to ask you.”

Janus nodded. 

“You wanna date us?”

The slightly more brash question came from Roman. Of course. 

Janus froze. “I, um, I…” His hand flew up to the scarred side of his face, almost on reflex. Patton gave a soft smile, placing his hand over Janus’s. 

“We like you, J. A lot. Every part of you. So what do you say?”

“I…” This had to be the first time he’d lost his perfectly constructed composure.

The answer was on the tip of his tongue. He glanced over at Virgil.

Virgil gave a tiny nod, and that was it. 

Janus frantically wiped at the tears that seemed to be coming without his permission as he nodded his head. 

“Yes, I...yes.”

When he looked back up at them, they were all smiling at him like he’d hung the stars.

[ask-fantasy-sanders-sides]

Oh my gods! PLEASE elaborate more of the Times of Troubles!

Well, many, many years ago, before “The War Between the Gods” officially started, the gods of the world would fight constantly. The Gods were constantly at each other’s throats, using their followers as chess pieces -- giving them just enough power to destroy their enemy’s soldiers, as if they were expendable resources, and not people. 

The Overgod, Ao the All-Being, grew furious at this behavior. But, they needed the gods to learn for themselves that this was wrong, so Ao waited for an opportunity...

It came in the form of the Dead Three. (...and, thus, the event that sparked the War.)

You see, every deity has something called an Artifact -- an item imbued with their power. Ao’s artifacts are the Tablets of Fate, two tone slabs that detail the order of everything, and all things that happen and do not happen, in this universe and every other, in every timeline. They are the code for existence itself.

Bane the Lord of Darkness and Myrkul the Lord of Bones decided they would steal the Tablets and find a way to alter them, to turn themselves into Overgods. Now, only an Overgod can alter the tablets, but they didn’t know that.... So, Ao pretended not to see them, and let them take the tablets.

Bane and Myrkul quickly realized they could not influence the tablets, but were certain they could find a way to with time, so they hid them.

Ao called all of the gods to their realm, acting furious, and demanded to know who had stolen their tablets.

...Obviously, no one spoke up. Everyone kinda knew who did it, and those two definitely weren’t gonna say shit.

So, after a moment of silence, Ao decided they must all be punished.

Now, Tyr the Even-Handed stepped forward. As a god of Justice, he pleaded to Ao, declaring that the practice was unfair, especially considering Ao (as an Overgod) knew all things, and obviously knew who was truly at fault. It wasn’t fair to punish everyone for what a few did.

Ao, insulted, struck Tyr blind for speaking against them. 

Tyr fell to the ground, gravely wounded, and Ilmater the Broken, a god of self-safrafice and compassion, rushed forward to help him to his feet -- saving the soldier’s pride, and letting Tyr use him as a crutch. This also was an insult to Ao, since it was technically disobeying the punishment Ao had just administered, so now Ilmater was to be punished to. Ao spoke,

“For the theft of the Tablets, and for Ilmater’s foolishness, you will all live as his people do -- humans, with no power beyond your own limitations. You will take human form, and live in the Inner Circle with mortals, deposed and weak until my Tablets are found and returned.”

Ao designated Helm the Watcher, a god of Protection, to stay Godly and guard the gate into the heavens, while the rest of them were made mortal and banished to Earth.

While their minds and memories remained the same, all of their physical forms had changed into mortal reflections of their previous forms: Tyr was a blind old man, and Ilmater was a deeply injured young man, each step an agony for his mortal form. 

Torm the True, the friend (and son-figure) of Tyr and god of Loyalty, immediately rushed to find Ilmater and Tyr. Impressed by Ilmater’s bravery and selflessness, he promised to stay by their sides and protect the two, as their guardian. Tyr would be their leader, and Ilmater would be his aid. They became the Triad, a trio of good-aligned Human Gods.

But, of course, Torm wasn’t the only one seeking the strange duo.

Bahamut the Valliant, a fellow Old God of Justice (once the Platinum Dragon, one of the oldest and most powerful of all the gods in existence, but now a human calling himself “Marduk”), sought out his old friend Tyr, and vowed to join them as well.

Sune the Lady of Love, the human goddess of beauty and compassion, was so moved by Ilmater’s act of kindness that she sought him out immediately, determined to protect him and show him the kindness he gave so quickly to others in need.

She brought with her Lathander the Morninglord, human god of creativity and birth, and her best friend.

Torm was not quite as fond of these new additions, since Sune, Bahamut/Myrkul, and Lathander liked to fuck around and party instead of focus on their very serious mission of retrieving the tablets (and often convinced Tyr and Ilmater to join them), but he grew to enjoy their company in time.

Torm was taught, by his new friends, how to have fun and relax, and how to form relationships with other people that weren’t just “I’m your knight and I protect you” (he and Ilmater are dating now and its very cute)

Tyr and Bahamut, once older-generation gods of black-and-white Justice, were taught compassion and mercy by Ilmater, Lathander, and Sune, and grew to temper their blades of justice with an open mind.

Sune, Ilmater, and Lathander, though they loathed the process, were taught by the others that conflict could not be pushed away and ignored forever, and sometimes you need to fight for the people you love and the things you believe in.

Sune was taught patience and healing by Ilmater, though ‘patience’ did not stick quite as well as the other thing 

Later on in their travels, Sune got separated from the others for a moment and found Sharess the Temptress, the goddess of sensuality, being corrupted and about to be murdered by Shar, the Lady of Loss, Goddess of darkness, loss, and the Underdark. Enraged, Sune fought Shar, saving Sharess’s life and bringing her back to join their party (Sune did not kill Shar, because Sune is not a killer, but Shar is still,,, like,,,, mad about it)

In their travels (due in no small part to Sune’s insistance on throwing a party literally every time she met a new Suneite), they ended up spending a lot of time with their mortal worshippers, and learning about them and why they followed beings they had never truly met or even seen. After getting to know their people, realizing they were truly people and touched by the way they had given their lives to their worship, they all accidentally learned the lesson Ao had really sent them down for: Your worshipers are your family, they should be everything to you, and you should treat them with kindness and respect. They are not your toys, they are your children. They have adopted you, and it is your job to honor them for it.

After various misadventures, when the Tablets were finally returned and the gods reinstated to their Godhoods, they kept this new lesson in mind, along with their new friendships and allegiances with each other. Though they would never forgive the Dark Three and their allies for what they had done (during the time of troubles, they were all mortal, which means all of the paladins and clerics in the world no longer had powers: the gods couldn’t give them any. They got Very Mad that their followers were left so defenseless, once they realized what that meant) and the War has still not yet ended, the Gods(or at least the good ones)’s new number one priority became their Worshipers, now always.

[mai-sau]

“Please don’t hide from me.” for Russigon (also welcome to the server!)

THANK U FOR WAITING THIS LONG THIS TOOK A WHOLE FOREVER AND A HALF AFHUJKGHNWISGHNLK I had a lot of fun writing this one!! Thank you for prompting (and thank you for the welcome!!), and I hope you enjoy!

Prompt: “Please don’t hide from me.”

It had started out simple enough, really. Maedhros had been resting in Mithrim for a time; his wounds healed as best they would, his kingship passed over to Fingolfin as smoothly as it could, and he was back to attending to business as often as he should. Which is to say: at all hours of the day.

And life went on. It was laughably simple, how easily the days passed. Here, time did not eke out like a sluggish wound for the sheer malice of such a thing. Elves rushed by him in their daily duties, councils convened and dismissed, and the dawns came and went. And Maedhros oversaw these elves, participated in those councils, and welcomed the dawns in the shadow of nightmares.

It was simple enough, really.

Throughout it all, Fingon was a blessing. During the day, he offered both precious wells of laughter and quiet companionship. When he wasn’t off conducting his own duties, he would come find Maedhros in the library (as he often was in his free time, the fuzzy silence of wooden shelves and crisp pages a balm to his nerves) and they would pass hours leafing through tomes, chatting in hushed tones, or simply gazing out the arching windows to the city below. 

Maedhros liked staring into the lake most of all, content to watch the sunset gleam and glimmer across its surface. Maedhros thought he was quite adept at the art of staring and mind-wandering, after decades chained up on that accursed cliff, or left waiting for the next torture as his body smeared a stone cold floor ruddy red -

Well. It was simple enough.

And at nights, Fingon would hold him close through his bitter nightmares, whispering sweet assurances that he was safe, he was in Hithlum, he was cherished. Occasionally it was Maedhros who did the holding, his beloved awaking with a terrible shiver that would not cease until long after the sun warmed the skies. Those nights were far worse, in Maedhros’ opinion.

But they went on, and they kept living, and the days kept passing by. It was easy.

Until it wasn’t.

It started with a simple touch. An act of comfort even, which made Maedhros all the more sickened by his own foul reaction. In one of their councils, someone had mentioned the pressing need to discuss the captive elves of Angband, their mind turning, and what it meant for Hithlum’s defenses to have such lethal weapons hidden as friendly faces; under the table, Fingon reached out a hand to grasp Maedhros’ own. 

Why he did Maedhros could not entirely say, perhaps it was to ease any distress at the mention of captivity, perhaps it was to soften the blow of indirect suspicion. All he did know was that as soon as Fingon’s hand - the same hand that had stroked his shaking side on the back of Thorondor, had steadied his spoon when Maedhros was still early and frail in his healing, had flipped the worn pages of their books for the evening - closed around his own, Maedhros was repulsed. 

He tamped the feeling down as swiftly as possible, trying to ignore the prickle of panic that raced through his veins pulsing out from that one point of contact. Nonetheless, for all his effort he could not relax the sudden tension in his body. Fingon had surely felt it, hand in his own. He gave him a concerned glance before squeezing even tighter, likely assuming Maedhros’ distress sprung from the topic of conversation. Maedhros felt the vague urge to vomit.

Afterwards, he was furious with himself. How dare he be disgusted with Fingon’s touch? Fingon, who had done nothing at all to warrant such distress. 

Nothing, except - Maedhros considered, before banishing the thought with such grief and guilt that for the rest of the day he carried around the heavy burden of tears not allowed to fall. He would not allow them to. How dare he weep over such ungrateful self pity - there were far greater things -

But it kept happening: whether a squeezed hand at another council meeting, a gentle hand in his as they made their way to dinner, or even a soft hand laid over his own in the silence of the library, Maedhros felt the same rapid revulsion flood his senses. 

To make matters more confusing, he did not feel like this at every touch he received; perhaps he could have reasoned to himself it was only a shadow of the pain endured in Angband. But Maedhros realized with growing dismay that it was only Fingon’s touch, and only upon his hand.

You know, a treacherous, sad voice reminded him. You know why.

I do, Maedhros thought with no small amount of self loathing. And that is why I must do better.

Fingon, clever as he was, caught on quickly enough.

“Nelyo?” he asked, after another ruined attempt at comfort in the library. He had reached out his hand to rub his thumb across the back of Maedhros’, only for Maedhros to tense as taut as a bowstring once again. And once again, Fingon slowly drew his hand back, brow furrowing as he turned to face Maedhros fully.

“Yes?”

Fingon seemed hesitant, unsure. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am. I’m here, aren’t I?” Maedhros tried to tease with a grin he knew was half-hearted at best.

“Yes, it’s just…” Fingon bit his lip, before something set in his eyes, and he continued on without hesitation. “Sometimes, you seem to recoil at my touch. Would you prefer I not, from now on? Touch you, that is. It’s alright if you do.”

“No!” Maedhros blurted. Immediately, he quieted his voice at Fingon’s widened eyes and the sound of his own harsh echo through the library - empty as it was - but the nervous twinge remained in his tone. “No, I adore your touch. Losing it - I could not bear such a thing.”

“But Maedhros,” Fingon said. “When I do, you tense so horribly and get the most strained look on your face. Please, I don’t wish to cause you harm or remind you of anything unpleasant.”

“You’re not,” Maedhros lied. “It’s just me. My body endured many… stresses, in Angband. These are just the shadows of the Enemy, nothing more.”

Fingon was silent for a moment. Eventually, he dropped his gaze to the table between them, its surface laden with books of all shapes and sizes that they had been exploring together. With a start, Maedhros saw his eyes begin to glisten, and he looked ashamed. 

“Are you sure,” Fingon said, voice thick. “That it is only the shadows of the Enemy you feel?”

“What do you mean?” Maedhros asked wearily, knowing damn well what he meant.

“Nelyo,” Fingon choked out. “You only hurt when I touch your hand.”

And with this, Fingon burst into tears. Flushed with an entirely new panic at the sight, Maedhros rushed to embrace him. Enveloped in his arms, voice low despite their solitude in the library at this time of the evening, Fingon cried tender apologies into his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry Nelyo, I’m so sorry, if there were any other way, if I could have just broken those damn chains, I’m so sorry -”

Maedhros shushed him, though he felt his own throat grow tight. Guilt crept up his chest.  “Shh, love, you did everything you could. I would be dead if not for your wise decision. You saved me. You brought me home. I love you, and do not blame you one bit. It’s just my own body’s confusion - I am the one who should be sorry, to be so ungrateful -”

Fingon hiccuped and drew back. “Ungrateful?” He asked, incredulous. “Nelyo, I cut off your hand.”

“To save my life!” Maedhros cried. “If it weren’t for you, I would be dead. I begged you to kill me, and still you saved me.”

Fingon’s eyes softened. “Dearest, that doesn’t change the fact that you were hurt.”

“But I understand why,” Maedhros insisted, the frustration of these past weeks spilling out of him. “I understand why, and it was the kindest hurt given to me in those wretched mountains, so why do I only suffer their shadow in dreams, but my body can’t accept the one person who hurt me to help me?”

Wiping at his stinging eyes, Maedhros trembled. He felt wetness on his knuckles, rushing down his cheeks. “I don’t understand why!”

It was Fingon’s turn to reach out as if to embrace him, before his arms faltered midair. “Nelyo - I - can I hold you?”

“Yes,” Maedhros sobbed. “Just please don’t touch my hand I’m so sorry.”

“Of course,” Fingon murmured, and wrapped him tight in a hug. Slow as honey, he stroked Maedhros’ hair, letting his fingernails glide across his scalp and spine. How long they stayed like this Maedhros couldn’t tell, but after a while his tears began to dry and his body became his own again.

“My dear Nelyo,” Fingon said, long after he had quieted. He still ran his hand soothingly through his hair, down his back, and up again. “You are allowed to feel this way, as awful as I imagine it must be. I know you are loving, and grateful, and trying your best. I still hurt you, in a very permanent way at that, and it’s natural for your body to recognize it. It’s ok to be afraid.”

Maedhros breathed in deep, once, twice, like he would during heavy nights. He sighed against Fingon’s shoulder, clad in the smooth cerulean silks of his evening robes. There was a wet patch staining the silk. “This body can be such a bastard.”

“But it is your body, so I love it all the same.” Fingon assured. Slowly, Maedhros drew back, and saw a smile twitch at the corners of his lips. “As I love the bastard that inhabits it.” he teased.

Maedhros snorted. “As always, dearest, I regret to inform you of your dreadful taste.”

Fingon broke into a full grin. “Why, of course. And I regret to inform you that I simply do not care.” 

His face grew solemn again, and he reached a hand up to caress his cheek. Maedhros leaned into the touch. He let his eyes flutter shut. 

“I do love you, you know?” He heard Fingon’s quiet voice. “Love you as the kind, resilient ner you are. You are more than precious to me.”

Maedhros opened his eyes, locking his gaze with the dark eyes of his beloved. “I know. As I love the bravest ner I’ve ever met. So full of courage, to love so wholly.” Saying this, he kissed his palm.

Fingon smiled, radiant and warm. Rising from his seat at the table, he began to gather the books into organized piles. “Well then, it’s getting quite late. I’d say it’s about time for bed, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course,” Maedhros said, and rose to tidy up their books with him. “Oh, can we take this one on gardening back to our room? There was a bit on lissuin I wanted to finish before I forget.” 

“Certainly,” Fingon said, and set it aside. “Nelyo?”

“Yes?”

“I know it doesn’t happen all the time, but… would it be okay if I asked, before I touched you? And if you ever would feel more comfortable if I did not touch you at all, you can always tell me, even if it’s just certain areas or - or -” Fingon paused in his book arrangements, grasping for words. “Just - please don’t hide from me, love. I want you to tell me. I want you to get what you need, even if it’s space.”

Maedhros felt his throat tighten again, though his heart was far brighter this time. “Of course,” he answered. “Thank you.”

The slow, content smile returned to Fingon’s face. Together, they finished organizing the books and gathered them up in their arms to return at the reshelving cart by the great entrance doors.

“There now,” Maedhros said, dropping the hefty tomes down on the cart. “That was simple enough, wasn’t it?”

[neuxue]

Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight ch 6

Morgase serves tea and makes a choice

Chapter 6: Questioning Intentions

Oh man Morgase POV is always sad.

Though I suppose her situation now is arguably better than it’s been in…oh…ten books or so, so maybe it will get better for her.

Right now, she’s serving tea.

Tam al’Thor, the simple farmer with the broad shoulders and the calm manners.

And also your in-law. Well, sort of. I mean, it’s complicated.

Okay sorry now I’m distracted by the thought of how absurd those family dinners would be. You’ve got Rand, Elayne, Min, and Aviendha (we’re just going to count that bonding as a marriage because to all intents and purposes…), then Tam, Morgase, Min’s aunts (are they alive? Why can I not remember this?), probably Amys given the sister-bonding ceremony, and if she’s there Rhuarc and Lian probably would be as well. Then Birgitte and Niella and Galad and Gawyn, and that’s just the immediate family but would you also have to extend a courtesy invite to Alanna, and therefore also Ihvon? And if we’re extending courtesy invites based on ‘has real estate in Rand’s head’ then we’ve got to invite Moridin as well, and at that point even without additional plus-ones I don’t envy the person who has to make that seating chart.

That was a tangent.

Of course, Morgase had seen Rand al’Thor once, and the boy hadn’t looked much more than a farmer himself.

Okay I do sort of want to be a fly on the wall when Morgase finds out that Elayne is pregnant with his child.

Speaking of seating charts, we get a roll call for this meeting but it does not add up to 23. Yes I will be looking for that everywhere now.

Very little about that time in her life made sense to her now. Had she really been so infatuated with a man that she’d banished Aemlyn and Ellorien?

Oh Morgase. If she can get one thing out of this mess, let it be the knowledge of who Gaebril really was. Because sure, sometimes it’s better not to know. But one of the cruellest things he did to her, in that whole mess of cruelty, was to leave her with absolutely no way of knowing this was not, truly, all her fault. He took away her self, her trust in and certainty of who she is. He undermined her nation and banished her friends and made her believe, even after his death, that it was by her hand and by her choice.

As if the physical and mental violation wasn’t enough. He found a way to violate her on another level as well, by twisting her own sense of herself, by leaving behind a ruin and leaving her no way to understand that it wasn’t of her own making. The Queen is married to the land, and for all she knows, she has betrayed that in every possible way, and she can’t possibly know that her choices were not her own.

Knowing that it wasn’t her choice, and that there was nothing she could have done… I mean that won’t be fun either, but it would at least give her something of her self back.

Meanwhile, Perrin’s annoyed at how long it took the Wise Ones and Aes Sedai to burn that village. Listen, people, you can’t keep judging these things by Rand. Just because he could take out a city in a matter of seconds doesn’t mean everyone can. Do I need to invent more units of measurement here? The Therin: potential mountains created or destroyed per unit of time.

“You wetlanders would have much trouble dealing with something as deadly as the Blight.”

“I think,” Faile said, “that you would be surprised.”

Yeah. Also don’t say that in Lan’s hearing.

Oddly, Faile’s sense of leadership seemed to have been enhanced by her time spent with the Shaido.

Nope, sorry, still not here for halfhearted attempts to pretend that storyline was All For Her Benefit, Actually. Especially because if we do take that on faith, it leads to some… okay no I’m not rehashing all my issues with the Malden plotline here; none of us need that.

Suffice it to say: ughhhhhhhhhhhh.

At times, being a servant seemed to require more stealth than being a scout. She wasn’t to be seen, wasn’t to distract. Had her own servants acted this way around her?

Morgase and Siuan could have an interesting conversation about dramatic changes in social and political status in a short space of time. And also, you know, extreme trauma and other fun pastimes, but especially the way they both then look at and try to come to terms with their new situations. They both do the same sort of thing of looking at all the ways in which they can still exercise power, only more subtly. The advantages of being overlooked and underestimated. And some of it is likely a kind of denial—a way to not feel like everything they knew and everything they were is lost. To try to focus on the advantages because that makes it hurt less. And the way in which they approach that is the politician’s way: turn it to your advantage, look for lines of power that weren’t there before. And also to think through the implications, and see things they may once have overlooked.

It's a hell of a price to pay for a change in perspective, but the fact that she can look at it that way, and think along some of those lines, is in its way a testament to her capability.

It discomforted her that the two Aes Sedai no longer seemed to resist their station.

Pretty sure we’re not really talking about the Aes Sedai here, Morgase. Because this is the other side of that acceptance of a new role: the fear that, in accepting it, she will lose what remains of herself. Oh look, we’re back to that central idea of identity and self and what it means to hold or lose or change that, and the fine balance between those possibilities.

Pouring tea was more complicated than she’d ever assumed.

This is something Jordan occasionally did as well: centring a chapter—especially one told from the viewpoint of a more minor character—around a motif or touchpoint like this, returning to it as a way of anchoring the rest of the chapter, and giving it more shape, especially when much of it is introspection or observation rather than action. Ornaments comes to mind, from Crossroads of Twilight, but there are quite a few others.

And of course I’m never going to complain about tea being used as a device for focusing a chapter.

It gives us a point from which to segue into Morgase’s thoughts on Perrin, which boil down to a solid ‘it’s complicated’. Mostly because by the standards of the Queen of Andor, he’s technically a rebel.

Alliandre’s cup was half empty. Morgase moved over to refill it; like many highborn ladies, Alliandre always expected her cup to be full.

And so we see the function of the tea: it’s a focal point for the chapter, but more than that it’s the method we’re using to get Morgase’s thoughts about and insights into the various people gathered here. Little bits of character and personality in… not so much how they take their tea, but the considerations around it. The things Morgase has to think about and keep track of, even for so simple a task. And so we get insight into Morgase’s new role as well, and into some of what she’s learning: that even in a position where she is largely unnoticed, there is a great deal she can and must see, and know, and understand about those around her. To pick up on those cues and know what they mean, and how that gives her insight into far more than how they take their tea.

Morgase was no longer the person she had once been. She wasn’t sure what she was, but she would learn how to do her duty as a lady’s maid. This was becoming a passion for her. A way to prove to herself that she was still strong, still of value.

In a way, it was terrifying that she worried about that.

And really fucking sad. But also entirely true to who she is and her situation. She’s lost everything. Her role, her nation, her friends, her sense of self, her sense of autonomy, her name, her identity. And she believes most of it to be her own fault, through her own poor choices and decisions. And now she’s here, under a new name and a new role and everyone believing the person she was to be dead, and Morgase herself came pretty close to making that true. How could she not feel lost, and uncertain of who she is, and desperate to prove that she’s still…someone. To prove that she was right to let Lini draw her away from that open window. Which, yeah, that gets dark fast, but Morgase’s story is not a happy one.

With all she has lost and all she can no longer be, she’s left in this space of not really knowing her purpose, or her place, or even who she is, anymore. And that’s hard enough, but then we add in all the self-loathing stemming from what she thinks she did, and failed to do, and the choices she’s had to make, and you end up here: with Morgase struggling to find any sense of self-worth. And so believing she has to prove—to herself, to others—that she is worth something, because there’s so much in her mind telling her she’s…not.

Meanwhile, Perrin still seems to think he can just send everyone home and everything will go back to normal. Speaking of denial.

“I’m not trying to recruit,” Perrin said. “Just because I don’t turn them away doesn’t mean I intend to enlarge this army any further.”

That sounds oddly like Lan’s resignation to Nynaeve recruiting him an army on a technicality. The difference being Lan at least recognises that’s what’s happening.

Perrin please.

“I didn’t make this banner,” Perrin said. “I never wanted it, but—upon advice—I let it fly. Well, the reasons for doing that are past. I’d order the thing taken down, but that never seems to work for long.” He looked to Wil. “Wil, I want it passed through camp. I’m giving a direct order. I want each and every copy of this blasted banner burned. You understand?”

Two steps forward and one step back.

I mean, I suppose you could make an argument on either side of this: on the one hand seriously, Perrin? You have been trying to deny this banner and your place as leader of these people for nine books now. Has it ever worked for you before? And do you really want to take away that focal point, that symbol to these people of what they’re fighting for and who they’re loyal to and why?

On the other hand… giving up his claim to Manetheren wasn’t a popular decision but I think it was the right one, because it helped focus them on what was truly important and prevent unnecessary tension between those who should be allies, by getting mixed up in the politics of raising a dead nation from the land of existing ones. And you could maybe argue that this is a similar angle, and that he’s trying to get them to focus not on him but on the larger purpose they all need to serve. But that feels like I’m trying too hard.

So, in summary: sigh.

Faile is also very much not convinced. I do sort of get where Perrin’s coming from, that if these people want to fight, they can do so for the Dragon Reborn because he’s the actual champion of the Light. But in reality, delegation is important, Perrin! That’s why you have a place in this as well! That’s why the Pattern dumped leadership superpowers and also wolves on you! Someone needs to actually do the groundwork of leading these people and Rand doesn’t have time or capacity for all of it.

And these people know you, Perrin. You’re the one they chose to follow; Rand is… well, as in so many things, more a force than a person at this point, in the eyes of most. They can fight for his cause, sure, but they’re not really fighting for him the way they’ll fight for the one who helped save their village or their people, and the one they see day to day and choose to give their loyalty to.

“Son,” Tam addressed Perrin, “the lads put a lot of stock in that banner.”

That pretty much says it all. This isn’t a time to be taking that kind of symbol from people, or messing unnecessarily with their sense of identity, or their foundations. In a weird way I’m reminded of Egwene’s approach with the Aes Sedai, and all her thoughts on how to reforge the Tower without breaking it. Making some compromises where needed because while there are some places where she can push, she can’t afford to completely shatter their sense of who they are. Not now, when there’s so little time.

And with Perrin, it’s that same sense of… work with what you have. Forge the metal you’re given. This is the situation, and maybe it’s not perfect, but it’s what you have. That loyalty is a part of the toolset you’ve been handed, so see it for what it is and work with it rather than trying to force it into a different shape and risk breaking the metal entirely.

Literally no one thinks this is a good idea.

“Husband,” Faile said, her words clipped. “Might I suggest that we begin with the ones who want to be sent away?”

And so it comes down, like so much else, to choices; Perrin wants to send them away but these people have chosen to follow him. He’s not keeping them here; they’ve decided to stay. And yes, you can flip that around and say he should also have the choice not to lead, and… yeah, okay, that’s a bit like how Rand technically has the choice not to fight. It’s a choice but not one either of them could really live with themselves for making, and so it becomes a question of framing and perception.

But also, Perrin does lead. When it comes down to it, he takes on that role. That is the choice he makes, over and over, in the moment. It’s in the time between those moments of action, when he is his own worst enemy in a way: he doubts and he fights against it and he looks back on past choices and questions himself and his role and his purpose. In the moment, he leads and he fights and he uses what he has. But in these periods of inaction he thinks himself into a tangle of ‘I’m only a blacksmith’, even when all his actions say otherwise. He just needs to get to a point where he can acknowledge and accept and own that.

Instead, he keeps wavering. And keeps trying to make it stick, but he’s trying to make the choice for those who follow him, rather than making his own choice, and so it doesn’t work.

The Pattern’s bringing maths into it now as well: they literally can’t keep large enough gateways open long enough to send everyone away. A hint, Perrin. Take it.

“Also,” Faile said, “perhaps it is time to send messengers to contact the Lord Dragon”

Someone suggesting proactive communication? If we didn’t already know the apocalypse was near…

“I…” Perrin seemed to flounder. Had he a source of information he wasn’t sharing?

Morgase. Please. Do you even need to ask? Does anyone in this series share anything?

Though in this case ‘I see swirls of colour and sometimes a bit of context whenever I think the names of my friends’ is, understandably, the sort of thing you might want to keep quiet until you can think of a way to frame it so that it doesn’t sound absolutely absurd. Although ‘absurd’ is sort of a moot point when the sky is full of black and silver clouds and the Blight appears in villages that don’t actually exist, so. It’s all relative.

Edarra suggests linking with the Asha’man and on the one hand yes! Cooperation! Good! But on the other hand why would you make it easier for Perrin to continue to try to send everyone away?

I suppose she’s thinking more of the refugees who do actually want to go home, though, so… okay fair enough.

“What would it cost me for you to try this?”

“You have worked too long with Aes Sedai, Perrin Aybara,” Edarra said with a sniff. “Not everything must be done at a cost. This will benefit us all.”

On that last, she is absolutely right. This is what they all need to be doing, and finally we’re starting to see it: cooperation, collaboration, setting aside old divisions and realising that perhaps if they work together they will be stronger for it. Small steps, and all that.

“Burn you, woman, why didn’t you bring it to me earlier, then?”

“You seem hardly interested in your position as chief, most of the time,” Edarra said coldly. “Respect is a thing earned and not demanded, Perrin Aybara.”

Ouch. On both sides there, because they both very much have a point. Edarra should have brought this up earlier, to someone even if not to Perrin.

But Perrin… this is where he kind of tries to have his cake and eat it: he says he’s not a leader, that he’s only a blacksmith, that he wants to send people away or let them fight for Rand rather than him. Tries to deny his role during the times when it’s not absolutely imperative that he claim it. But at other times he is quick to take command, and to make the decisions, and to give direction. And now, he wants to know why she didn’t bring this to him. Because he is, after all, the authority here.

If you would have that, Perrin, you have to accept all the aspects of it. You can’t keep leading these people and then saying you’re not actually their leader, but then also expect them to abide by your decisions—whether that’s to send them away, or to expect them to come to you with information.

There’s an interesting irony in how, by trying to be responsible and not take on a role he doesn’t think he’s suited for, he ends up doing something arguably irresponsible by neglecting the duties of a role he has in fact taken.

It’s not easy. It doesn’t seem like fun. But Perrin, you have to make the choice and claim it and understand what it means, and stop denying yourself.

To his very great credit, Perrin takes the admonishment seriously.

Aiel were people, like any other. They had odd traditions and cultural quirks, but so did everyone else. A queen had to be able to understand all of the people within her realm—and all of her realm’s potential enemies.

I like this about Morgase, and it’s something we see in Elayne as well: this acknowledgement of the importance of cultural understanding. They don’t always get it right, of course, but they understand the importance of it, and while we haven’t seen as much of Morgase in general, we do see Elayne try to follow through on this whenever she’s faced with a different people or group or culture, and I think this is where she gets it from.

Ah, so Balwer wants to visit Rand’s academy in Cairhien. What exactly are you hoping to find, Balwer?

Would [Balwer] tell Aybara who she really was?

I…huh. I hadn’t even thought of that. The others in that group obviously didn’t want or intend to tell anyone who Morgase is, but Balwer has given his loyalty and service to Perrin, so it is actually kind of interesting that he wouldn’t have said anything. But then, if Perrin hasn’t asked, and Balwer also has no specific desire to betray Morgase, I suppose he wouldn’t necessarily bring it up either. And it’s not like people here default to communication when there’s any other option, so… okay, that checks out.

Besides, think how much more fun it will be for this all to come out when Perrin and Galad run into each other. And by fun I mean probably the opposite of that for nearly everyone involved. But fun for me, which is of course the important thing.

She should have approached the dusty man earlier, to see what the price would be to keep his silence. Mistakes like that could cost a queen her throne.

She froze, hand halfway to a cup. You’re not a queen any longer. You have to stop thinking like one!

Oh, Morgase. There’s just… that’s quite a lot of pain packed into a few almost-offhand thoughts.

Especially because, again, it brings it back to this question of self and identity and who is she, now that she’s not a queen? To the point where she’s trying to remake the very patterns of her thoughts, to make herself into someone else because she can’t be who she was before, but if that person is lost then what is left?

Also, on a somewhat less sad note, there’s another small irony here: Morgase, a former queen, trying to force herself out of those habits of thinking, while she and everyone else around her is trying to push Perrin into them.

Of course now Morgase is thinking about how she can’t really go home, because people have to continue to believe she’s dead and Elayne has to be able to stand on her own otherwise it’s a political nightmare and she’s not necessarily wrong but man, Morgase’s story is fucking sad.

Why had she done such things?

I know I’ve already said this at least five hundred times but please, please just let her find out. Of everything, and there’s a lot, I think this is the worst. Bad enough she’s lost everything else and suffered everything she’s suffered and is now adrift, effectively an exile, and trying to find her place—how can she do that when she doesn’t even have her own self to hold on to? When she can barely even trust that? And especially when it comes with the consequences of those things she thinks she did of her own volition, because it’s not just that she doesn’t trust herself; for some things she hates herself.

Perhaps she should have done the noble thing and killed herself.

Wow.

Okay. So that’s.

Yeah. That got dark.

I mean, it’s not… a surprise, given that we very much watched her near-suicide, but…damn. For her to think that would have been the ‘noble thing’. For her to think that her survival is not in and of itself a victory.

She doesn’t even know if Elayne is queen yet, or even in Caemlyn. And politics aside, how hard that must be to not know where her daughter is or even if she’s alive.

Apparently she officially likes Tallanvor now, which… okay sure she deserves whatever happiness she can find, at this point, but this one has always sort of weirded me out. Then again that’s true of a lot of the romance in this series, so okay sure whatever.

Looking into those beautiful young eyes of his, she could not entertain the notion of suicide, even for the good of Andor. She felt a fool for that. Hadn’t she let her heart lead her into enough trouble already?

Okay, there’s a lot to unpack here and I don’t know that I’m going to even try with all of it, but I’m… not a fan of the way it plays to this whole he’s-what-keeps-her-from-killing-herself angle. I just find that an uncomfortable space in general, for any number of reasons.

But the part that hurts, here, of course, is the last part. Hadn’t she let her heart lead her into enough trouble already. Because again, she thinks this is all her fault. Everything that’s happened; she thinks it’s just… her own poor choices, when the truth is that she had no choice, for so much of it. Which… I mean I don’t think I need to make the obvious real-world connection here, but it plays very true to that tendency for those not at all at fault to blame themselves, and how devastating that can be.

Perrin of course knows none of this but does know there’s something going on with Morgase and Tallanvor, because Tallanvor in particular is not exactly subtle.

Morgase raised an eyebrow. From what she’d seen, Perrin himself had followed Faile around lately nearly as much.

Point to Morgase.

PERRIN. NO.

“I was given a suggestion back when you first joined us,” Perrin said gruffly. “Well, I think it’s about time I took it. Lately, you two are like youths from different villages, mooning over one another in the hour before Sunday ends. It’s high time you were married. We could have Alliandre do it, or maybe I could. Do you have some tradition you follow?”

YOU. ABSOLUTE. IDIOT.

Hang on a second, I need to go find a wall to hit my head against repeatedly.

I just. Perrin. No. Why would you even. Think this was a good idea. Pause for five seconds and consider.

Even without any of the knowledge of how awful Morgase’s life has been for the last year or so, Perrin should know better, damn it. You can’t just tell two people to get married as if they have no say in the matter! Especially when it’s not even like he’s taking one of them aside to have a quiet word about ‘this is getting in the way of your work; sort it out’, which would be kind of awkward but just about skirting the edges of acceptability. No, he’s saying it to both of them, when he has no confirmation from either that this is actually what they want. But he’s in charge here so now it’s hard for either of them to refuse him, and of course that would mean publicly rejecting the other, and in short this is the worst idea you’ve had in a while, Perrin.

And then of course—not that Perrin has any reason to know this—there’s the reality of Morgase’s recent past, which makes having her agency taken away (again) in the context of marriage and all that entails (again), even more of a glaring Do Not Want.

Morgase felt a sudden panic

I mean yeah, that’s probably the understatement of the fucking Age.

“Gather any you want to witness and be back here in an hour. Then we’ll get this silliness over with.”

So it’s not enough to take away any choice they may have in the matter and assume you know best; now you need to trivialise it as well? Perrin Aybara you are better than this.

“Well?” Perrin asked.

“No,” Morgase said.

Such a small, quiet thing, but it’s everything in the context of her story. That at last, after so many kinds of violation, after so many instances of her choice or her agency or her name or her will taken from her, she can say no. And she does.

It’s not precisely subtle but it’s also not precisely loud; it’s just a turning point and a reclaiming of self after so long of having that taken away from her. That now, she can stand as herself and say no, I will not.

She didn’t want to see the inevitable disappointment and rejection in Tallanvor’s face.

Which is the other reason you don’t just drag two people into a room and tell them to get married! Because even if they might want to marry each other, one or both might have some objections on principle to being told to do so! And then you’ve just created unnecessary tension in the relationship itself because now she’ll have to explain that ‘it’s not you, it’s that for once in my damn storyline I want to be able to give or deny consent of my own damn volition’.

I’m just very, very here for Morgase Trakand finally having a chance to stand up for herself and say no, because that has so long been denied to her in so many ways. And to find it in herself, even with all that has come before, to do that, because it would be so easy to just…accept it. But instead she stands her ground and in doing so, in asserting herself in front of someone else, it’s almost like asserting herself to herself as well. That she is here and she is someone and she has a choice and she will make it.

“Why, the Queen herself wouldn’t demand this!”

Ha. Okay, you’ve earned that one, I think.

“Forcing two people to marry because you’re tired of the way they look at one another? Like two hounds you intend to breed, then sell the pups?”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“You said it nonetheless.”

Yeah, this is… very much not Perrin’s finest hour here.

Whereas for Morgase… everything about this carries so much more weight than meets the eye, given all she has been through, and I’m just very here for it.

Pulling herself up to her full height, she almost felt a queen again. “If I choose to marry a man, I will make that decision on my own.”

Reclamation of identity! In reclaiming all the choices that have been taken from her! So much of what came before, all those times she couldn’t choose, was just this long agonising process of stripping away everything she was and everything she could hold on to in herself. And she’s been so lost for so long, and so here, in claiming that choice again, she finds some part of herself again as well. She may no longer be a queen but it’s not really about the crown, it’s about feeling like herself again, and finding something there.

Really, Tallanvor, in this case it’s honestly not you; it’s… a whole pile of other things. Don’t take it personally.

Morgase measured Perrin, who was blushing. She softened her tone. “You’re young at this yet, so I’ll give you advice. There are some things a lord should be involved in, but others he should always leave untouched.”

I do like that we get this—it was important for Morgase to be able to draw a line and stand by it and say, unequivocally, no. And to make it very clearly understood why Perrin was crossing a line.

But she also acknowledges that there was no malice in it; it was fucking stupid, but he did mean well. So let him feel painfully awkward for a few minutes, let it sink in, and then grant him this to soften it.

Man, that was awkward.

I mean, again, absolutely here for Morgase finally getting to make a damn choice, but would kind of have preferred if it weren’t at the cost of Perrin being written into quite this level of uncomfortable idiocy. Which I suppose is part of why I’m glad it ends on that sense of ‘you meant well but no’, rather than letting it escalate.

Basically: great character moment for Morgase but overall not a particularly well-done scene, I feel like.

It seemed she had some spark left in her after all. She hadn’t felt that firm or certain of herself since… well, since before Gaebril’s arrival in Caemlyn!

That pretty much sums it up. She needed this, needed to find that within herself.

And now enter Whitecloaks, stage left. This’ll get interesting.

Next (ToM ch 7) Previous (ToM ch 5)

[patandpran]

The Light in the Dark - A Saratine Demon/Angel AU fic

Summary: Angel and DemonKind have always been at odds. Sarawat is an Angel who is forced to live amongst Demons and conceal his identity by acting as a Demon himself. He must fight ever part of himself that is Good to keep his secret but one day. he intervenes in a fight and saves a Demon named Tine who is anything but happy with the intervention...

This was written after a convo and a brainstorm with @sarawatism so basically, as always Nen gets me to write a story haha

Inspired by this post by @nuisanceandthehandsomeprince​

Sarawat didn’t choose to be born this way. He just was. He wanted to fit in and he tried his best to fight the goodness inside of him, the light that dwelled no matter how hard he tried to banish it to the darkest depths of his being, but its brightness shined on. He was wrong for this world and yet, he lived in it so he is forced to go on feeling like an outsider but pretending that he is one of them: part of DemonKind.

Living amongst Demons when you came from the world of Angels was a difficult path to navigate. Sarawat had lived with the lethal secret his entire life and his adoptive parents did what they could to keep the reality of his angelic identity hidden from the world around them. They were what they called ‘allies’, Demons who believed that Demons and Angels should live in balance rather than in opposition to one another, and had found Sarawat wandering the streets of the Demon world before he could even speak. He was wearing a broach that bore the Angel insignia and had the ice blue eyes that were indicative of AngelKind. There was no way that he would run into another Demon without being destroyed on the spot.  

With no Angels in sight and no other explanation why a toddler of Angelic descent would be abandoned in the DemonWorld, his parents had to act fast. His existence was confounding but they chose to help him despite the mystery of his origin and arrival. They quickly concealed him in their home where he remained for years until they thought he could make his way into public without raising alarms.

Passing Sarawat off as a Demon had taken years of practice. He always knew of his true identity but had to fight against ever single natural urge he experienced as it would reveal the truth of who he was if he even spoke one word that suggested his lightness. His parents spent years developing dark spells to change the colour of his eyes and other small physical indicators. The whole thing was exhausting for both Sarawat and his family but they loved each other nonetheless. Most of DemonKind did not believe in love but Sarawat’s parents loved him and loved each other which is likely what made them sympathetic to his existence in their world.

Sarawat loved his parents more than anything and even though they had offered to aid in his escape back to the AngelWorld many times, he insisted that he would remain where he was, with his family. His parents had attempted many times to conjure the memory of Sarawat’s path but no matter how hard they pushed, it was all darkness to him as if someone had stolen away his memories before his arrival in the DemonWorld.

When Sarawat first ventured out beyond the confines of his home, he was terrified but also fascinated. He quickly became enthralled by every inch of the DemonWorld in all its grotesque beauty. Everything was so dark and repulsive and despite his true origin, he felt himself bizarrely drawn to everything that surrounded him. Now, his curiosity did not make it easier fro Sarawat to understand Demons or to pass for one without constantly concentrating on how he held himself and how he acted, especially around Demons his own age. They seemed to be the most observant of how different he was so despite wanting desperately to connect with others his age, Sarawat stayed away from his peers in fear that they might discover who he really was.

Instead, he threw himself into quiet observation of DemonKind. He was always learning and taking in new ways of being a true embodiment of the Darkness. He employed what he learned in his behaviour and even managed to change some of his own thought patterns to a point where his parents started to ask him if he was all right whenever he returned home.

The value that stuck the most was Demons hatred of AngelKind. Sarawat listened to lecture upon lecture about the danger and audacity of his own kind when he eavesdropped upon conversations on the street, so much so that he started to believe in it as well. Over time, the self-loathing took over his every thought until, one day, he almost turned himself in to the High Demon Guard.

Thankfully, his parents intercepted him and stopped him from following through with his plan. They reminded him of how unique of a position he was in as an Angel amongst Demons and guided him back to his senses. As ‘Allies’ they believed that Sarawat’s presence in the DemonWorld was no mistake and was some sort of sign that, one day, Angel and DemoKind might live in some sort of harmony or, at least, better understanding. It was his love for his parents that reminded Sarawat to not be ashamed of who he was, but instead, think of himself as having a unique perspective as a source of light in the world full of dark.

Sarawat was wandering through the streets one day when he spotted a Demon around his age that was kicking another Demon to a pulp. Every part of Sarawat knew to keep walking as this was a normal sight in the DemonWorld and just how conflicts were settled. In any argument amongst Demons, the more blood that was shed, the better.

But something was calling to him about this particular fight that he could not ignore. There was a driving force at Sarawat’s very core that propelled him toward the two Demons.

“Enough.”

In one word, Sarawat changed everything.

The Demon that was the Attacker turned swiftly to face Sarawat, his red eyes flashing in complete fury. Sarawat should have run away then and there but instead, he stood his ground and glared at the Demon before him and made it clear that he was not going anywhere until the fight dissipated. He was actively going against everything he had learned and everything that his parents had taught him to protect his secret but something urged him on.

“What are you doing, you idiot?” The Demon on the ground sputtered, even though he was the one covered practically head to toe in his own blood.

The brightness that was pulsing through Sarawat’s veins was the reminder that he was very much an Angel. He had to keep his Good thoughts at bay and remind himself that he was still very much in the DemonWorld and therefore had to handle this as a Demon would.

Sarawat pulled his hand back and punched the Attacker directly in the nose. Crimson sprayed everywhere and Sarawat felt pain explode across his knuckles. Never in his life had he intentionally hurt another being and he hoped suddenly that this would be his last. He had needed to do certain things to pass as a Demon but outside of those times, he had avoided such things at all cost.

The Attacker was reeling from the punch and when he finally recovered, he charged at Sarawat with full force. Sarawat took a deep breath and a power seemed to suddenly emanate from inside of him. When the Attacker was only inches away from him, Sarawat lifted a leg and landed a kick to the Attacker’s stomach that sent him flying. Sarawat watched in awe as the Attacker collapsed into a heap of unconsciousness, likely due to the severe force with which he had been hit.

Sarawat could only celebrate his victory for so long as he heard some rummaging behind him before a voice muttered, “What. Are You.”

Twisting around, he saw the Demon that was on the other side of the attack struggling to get to his feet. Sarawat rushed toward the stranger to try to help him up but the Demon jerked away from him violently.

“Stay away from me.”

Sarawat instantly took a step backward. He could never take back what he had done but, for some reason, it felt worth it. The Demon in front of him was staring at him as if he was some sort of Monster which Sarawat found amusing considering they lived in the DemonWorld. What Sarawat did not expect to see, though, which made him re-consider his actions was the fear that was in the Demon’s eyes.

“I-I’m sorry.” Sarawat muttered before racing off toward his home.

The Demon was left behind, covered in acrid blood and wondering what the hell he had just witnessed and feeling beyond ashamed of being ‘saved’ by some sideways stranger. Demons did not intervene when pain was being inflicted, it was so beyond their nature that it confounded the Demon to no end. This Demon’s name was Tine and from that day, Tine vowed to seek revenge upon the sad excuse for a Demon that had stopped the fight that day.

For weeks, Tine searched and searched for the Demon but found no evidence of his existence. It was not until one day the High Guard called a mandatory gathering for Demons of the age of eighteen that Tine saw the Demon again. The announcement was to recruit all Demons that were of proper age for Battle Training as there were rumours stirring that a battle with AngelKind was on the horizon. All recruits were called one by one to receive a scroll with information about their future training. They were each called by name which is how Tine learned of the sideways Demon’s name.

“Sarawat.”

Tine watched in horror as the Demon approached the Guard to receive his scroll. A fiery hatred lit inside of Tine as he gazed upon the one who had intervened in his attack. He vowed to himself to invoke his revenge as soon as they both arrived at training together but Tine would bode him time to ensure the proper way of disposing of his enemy.

Weeks passed and the DemonYouth were called to training. The training facility housed small sleep quarters, communal lunch halls, and weapon rooms which contents made Tine drool and Sarawat shiver. As soon as Tine spotted Sarawat amongst the recruits, he began to study his enemy from afar, being sure to keep enough distance so that Sarawat did not recognize him from their initial interaction.

Over time, Tine noticed more and more microbehaviors of Sarawat that indicated that something was off about the Demon. Tine could see right through him. He saw that Sarawat didn’t belong in the DemonWorld despite the facade that Sarawat put on. The hatred he felt toward the imposter made his blood boil. Tine wanted to expose Sarawat for the fake that he was but he needed time to gather the evidence he needed to ensure that no one would question the validity of the accusation.

But to do this, Tine had to get close to Sarawat which was a dilemma in itself as Sarawat isolated himself likely in an effort to remain out of other’s scrutiny. Sarawat thought he could slip under the radar but Tine would not let him get away with it…

[fantasyinvader]

So, I decided to finally do it. A long post comparing Edelgard to one of my favorite literary characters, If you even just skim my usual writings, you’ll know who.

Elric of Melnibone is a fantasy character by Michael Moorcock. His saga is often touted as the birthplace of dark fantasy, and has been massively influencial on geek culture in general. It actually served as the basis for Law and Chaos in the first edition Dungeons and Dragons...where Elric was briefly canon before a legal dispute with a company wanting to make their own Elric game. Warhammer is another thing influenced by Elric, and it’s hard not to see where Shin Megami Tensei may be influenced by the saga as well.

I once talked about the influence Elric may have had on Dany from ASoIAF, and since Edelgard is often compared to Dany I figured I could do this as well. The following is just some points of comparison between the two, from me to you.

Empire

Edelgard is the Emperor of the Adrestian Empire, which has existed for over 1000 years. However, it has seen considerable decline over the centuries. While it’s rule once covered the entire continent of Fodlan, now it is one of three countries after people broke away from it. A book in the Shadow Library presents the Empire as very decadent in it’s past, and would use execution as a form of entertainment. This is a historical novel and possibly not factual, but it’s presence suggests this wasn’t an uncommon view of the old empire until recently considering it was Seteth who banned it. Part of it’s decline can be rooted in it upholding some traditions, such as the Crests, from antiquity. It’s rise to power stems from working with the Nabeteans, dragons in a human form. It’s royal lineage claims lineage from one of those dragons, Seiros, though her being a dragon is not something people know. Instead, she is seen more as a saint who helped found the Empire, though she instead runs the Central Church rather than lead the Empire..

Elric was the Emperor of Melnibone, and ancient Empire that ruled the known world for over 10000 years. However, it is a shell of what it was once was. Over the last thousand years it’s influence has waned due to it’s decadence and the hedonistic nature of it’s people. This has led to humans carving out their own kingdoms, the Young Kingdoms, with that time and as of Elric’s reign they have even chanced raiding it’s last city of Immyr. Melnibone is a very beautiful place but this only serves to contrast the cruelty of it’s people. They’re sadistic hedonists, to the point abusing slaves is a regular childhood passtime. Despite worshiping beings of chaos though, Melnibone is committed to a strict adherence to it’s hierachy and traditions. Part of it’s rise to power had to do with it’s relationship with dragons, who helped them conquer the world in such a manner that humans are instinctually afraid of dragons because of it. Another factor is their relationship with Arioch, a lord of chaos who acted as their patron though Aricoch hasn’t been present in Melnibone in a long time.

Views on the Empire

Edelgard sees the Empire as one that has declined, and she wants to restore it to prominence. A big part of this is doing away with the Church and the current system of nobility, instead implementing a system where power is instead gifted to those deemed of merit by her. She also aims to reclaim the lands of the Kingdom and the Alliance. Her whole gig is that she will make people follow her own beliefs. Depending on the route, she may be successful or lead the Empire to it’s destruction.

Elric saw the decline of his Empire, seeing it as a result of it’s decadence. Elric originally left Melnibone in order to venture into the Young Kingdoms, hoping to learn about justice (an alien concept to his people) from humans as Elric wished to rule Melnibone as it had never been before. According to Fortress of the Pearl, Elric intended to create an advisory council filled with people of different nations. This council would share their various perspectives with Elric, who would consider them before making his own decision (Elric does recognize he lacks common sense in some regards). He wanted to restore his empire, making it a beacon of goodness to the world while also caring for the weak.

The Childhoods that Shaped Them

This is one of the harder sections to do, since Edelgard's backstory is full of holes and the implication that she is lying. But the basic version is that as a child, Edelgard was taken from her father and (possibly fabricated) siblings to the Kingdom when a civil war broke out in the Empire due to her father's attempts to consolidate power. Edelgard was kept in isolation for two years, spent the third with Dimitri and then was taken back to the Empire. There, she was experimented on by TWSITD who made her stronger, and it also caused her hair to turn white. Edelgard blames the nobility and the Church for this, saying it's all because of the society she lives in and begins to plot conquest in order to change it.

Elric's mother died during childbirth, which made his father a distant figure in his life. Elric was also born a weak albino, incapable of even standing if not for sorcery and potions. As  a result of this weakness, the young prince ended up spending more time studying in preparation for taking the throne. In his studies, Elric learned about concepts that had long been forgotten by his people. Stuff like justice, guilt, mercy, and how your actions can cause trouble for others. This caused Elric to become a more kind and gentle Melnibonean, but as a result of this he was alienated from most of his people for they could not alien and distant to them. Elric's training made him a masterful swordsman (but not to the same extent as his cousin Yrrkoon) and the most powerful sorcerer Melnibone had seen for generations. Through his dream quests, he relived the adventures of his ancestors. He doesn't remember these quests though (and they would have been big warnings to what was in store for him), instead only taking the magical knowledge they learned with him. As a result of successfully completing these quests, Elric was deemed his father's successor over Yrrkoon.

Allies

One of Edelgard's chief allies is the group known as Those Who Slither in the Dark. The same people who experimented on her, calling her their greatest creation. They provide her with aid in her war in the form of weapons and destabilizing her future targets. However, Edelgard does not like them for obvious reasons and plans to take them out. She is using them to further her own ends at the moment, providing them resources in order to reap the benefits. TWSITD are also implied to be aiding/manipulating many other groups in pursuit of their own goals.

Edelgard also has Hubert and Jeritza. The former is willing to kill anyone he feels is a threat regardless of Edelgard's orders, the latter is a mentally ill man she has weaponized. There are various other allies as well, but it's weird. In CF, she'll cry for two up and comers in her army in a show to gain sympathy. But she'll also toss her former classmates into danger and show no reaction to their resulting deaths. Even Hubert, who has been her longest serving ally. She also dismisses his contributions, saying she never had anyone to support her like Dimitri (in Azure Moon) had.

Elric has Arioch, the patron god of his people. Arioch is a lord of Chaos, also known as the Knight of the Swords. He lends Elric his aid at various points, but it's always a matter of when he chooses to do so. If Elric is doing something Arioch doesn't want him to do, then he will not answer his call. Aricoch calls Elric his favorite Melnibonean and his slave, Elric invoking his help give him more presence and power within the world as well. This is part of Arioch's plans, but during the final war Elric rejects the side of Chaos and slays Arioch's physical body, banishing Arioch (who exists in many bodies across the multiverse) from ever stepping foot in Elric's world ever again. Chaos is also shown to aide others in pursuit of their goals

Elric also has various friends, chief among them is Moonglum. Moonglum is a thief and mercenary, in addition to someone with less of a conscience than Elric himself! Moonglum does chase after riches, but has issue with Elric's methods. Moonglum will sell slaves for a profit and, in one instance, killed a giant Elric had worked out an agreement with because fate said that the giant would be slain. During the course of his adventures, Elric loses all those he holds dear. This helps fuel a deep sense of self-loathing within him.

Pride

Edelgard is a very prideful person, to the point many would call her arrogant. As such, she will not sway from the goals she sets for herself. Even if her army is defeated and she herself is facing her executioner, she will not back down. She is even willing to throw away her humanity in this regard.

Elric's (out of universe) nickname is the Proud Prince of Ruins. Despite his self-loathing, he will not kill himself due to his pride. It is also for this reason that Elric will not allow anyone to kill him. In addition, he's also fighting the influence of Stormbringer (his black runesword). To quote Blue Oyster Cult, Elric doesn't want to be a “red-eyed, screaming ghoul.” In addition, while he serves Chaos he makes it clear he does not want to be their plaything.

Goals

Edelgard claims that her goal is to dismantle the Church of Seiros and the Crest Nobility System, freeing mankind while also creating a system where people of merit are appointed to power. However, there are many hints that her real goal is the conquest of Fodlan, unifying it under her uncontested rule. After that, she intends to have her underlings take out TWSITD from the shadows.

Before the fall of Melnibone, Elric wanted to rule his Empire as it had never been ruled before. To this end, he left his throne to journey out into the young kingdoms. He intended to learn from humanity subjects such as justice. However, after Yrrkoon usurpted the throne and Elric lead human raiders in destorying his own empire, Elric wandered the world searching for answers.

See, as a being of Chaos Elric held a certain worldview. There was no master plan of the universe, there is no order but what we force upon the world. Bad things happen just because, so there isn't any reason for Elric not to do as he wishes. The fall of Melnibone is actually a pivotal moment to Elric, who had before believed in questioning his use of his own power and restraint. For instance, he allowed Yrrkoon to live before despite being a traitorous son of a bitch because Elric believed he was so much more powerful than his cousin, and allowing him to live showed that. Now Elric had taken up a more hedonistic lifestyle common with his people. Elric's travels see him seek out any form of proof though that there is a great will at play, for Elric is willing to accept that because it would mean his suffering had reason.

Towards the end, Elric tries to avoid his destiny. See, the Lords of Law had long since planned out Elric's life in pursuit of their goal. Believing there to be a greater power that willed this, they set up Elric to be their tool during the final war. The world, heavily influenced by Chaos, would be destroyed and Law would be able to rebuild it as a safer one for mankind (should mankind come into existence again). Elric tried to avert fate and win the war against Chaos, but in the end he failed. The world was warped and a reset was the only option.

The Ends Justify the Means

In pursuit of her goals, the game makes it out that there is very little Edelgard wouldn't do. Conscript an unwilling populice to fight for her? No big. Destablize other nations or attempt to assassinate heirs before the war starts? Yawn. Work with TWSITD? From before the game began. Using monsters that they made out of people? Sure, she says she doesn't like it and would stop it if she could, but she doesn't as there's mention of their usage in CF.

It's all wrapped up in her attempts at spreading misinformation. She is shown to lie and keep people in the dark in order to support her war. She makes herself look like the hero in this case, but the clues are blatantly there if you take even one step outside her narrative. She is viewed not as a liberator, but a conquerer. And it's hard to get a grasp of what she herself believes, since due to her manipulative nature every word out of her mouth is suspect.

While Elric will attempt to do the right and honorable thing at times, his nature as a Melnibonean (be it blood or being raised in such a culture) has made him a pragmatist. As such, there is very little Elric wouldn't do in order to obtain victory.

Burn a half-million not-Dothraki alive with napalm spitting dragons? Okay. Sustain himself on the souls of those slain by Stormbringer? He finds it distasteful, but it gives him power that he's addicted to. Summon demons who will rip out the souls of his enemies, flinging them to the wind so they may never know peace? Standard practice. Force a man to attempt to eat a giant pearl while pouring poison down his throat to wash it down? The dude deserved it. Single-handedly commit a massacre in such a manner survivors suffer PTSD? That was the price they payed for the Pearl.

Elric doesn't try to justify his actions though. He doesn't claim moral high ground, in his own words he may have slain dictators and sorcerers, but did so with means equal to that which was already there. Not to mention, he does recognize the sheer number of good people who die because of him since he often overlooks collateral damage. Elric fully realizes just how evil his actions are, he's haunted by what conscience he does have, and he world around him recognizes this as well. People fear him, hiring Elric as a mercenary is akin to inviting your own doom. Hell, when he was trying to lead humanity against the forces of Chaos his past acts caused the people of the Souther continent not to give their support (which may have turned the tide at that point of the war).

Despite this, Elric has been shown to free slaves, save children and stop rapes because he wishes to. This is in spite of his own culture, which used slaves, would use cannibalism as a punishment. In addition, while Elric can be cruel (boyhowdy can he be cruel), he is never cruel without cause. You have to piss him off pretty bad in order to get a nasty death. In addition, Elric is shown to repay kindness as best he can.

The reason why I did this was I compared Elric to Dany before, and how he might have influenced her. People compare Edelgard to Dany all the time, so I wanted to put her against Elric. Honestly, once I began writing I keep coming up with more and more stuff. Edelgard has a lot in common with Elric, I could go on. How they're both short-sighted and make dumb decisions, or how Edelgard is known for being unemotional while Elric, when he's performing his evilist of actions because otherwise he's either a dramaqueen or theatrical, can commit atrocities without emotion or hate. But I'm going to stop here for now. Let me know what you guys think.

[clarasimone]

Iain Glen in HENRY IV, part 1: in 3 hours 50 minutes, and counting...

On BBC Radio 3, Sunday April 26, 19H30 UK time (available to all on the BBC’s website if you listen to the play live)

Yesterday, in my teaser interview with @pnienor​, our resident Bard expert singled out a specific scene in which the King stands out: “...the exchange with Hal in Act 3, scene 2, I think, is where you find out just how good he is at keeping his crown and why. You want Hal to emulate him after this and he does.” ... Sooooo wanting to investigate this a bit further, I went into the text which will enable Iain Glen to shine and, lo and behold, I found yet more meta-theatrical resonances to enjoy! 

During Henry’s lengthy (!!) impassioned address to his son, at one point he explains how he won the admiration of his people through modesty. While the previous King pranced around like some red carpet hungry star (my image ;-), his shying away from the public eye made his rare appearances all the more glorious and commanded respect. 

Reminds you of anyone? 

I CANNOT wait to hear Iain Glen say (and please also note the Jorah-ish reference to banishment!):

If I had been so publicly visible, so overly familiar to people, so freely accessible, so cheap and available to the common hordes, then public opinion (which helped me get the crown) would have stayed loyal to King Richard. I would have stayed a banished man, with no reputation and no promise of success. But because I was so rarely seen in public, people were amazed by me when I did appear; they acted as if I were a comet. Men would tell their children, “That’s him!” Others would ask, “Where? Which one’s Bolingbroke?” I was more gracious than heaven; I acted so modestly that I won the allegiance of their hearts, and the shouts and salutes of their mouths. They even did so when the King himself was present.This is how I kept myself fresh and new. I was like a priest’s ceremonial vestments: rarely seen, but admired. I appeared seldomly, but marvelously, like a feast made all the more impressive by its rarity. Now, ridiculous King Richard pranced about with vapid clowns and superficial wits, quickly lit and just as quickly burnt out. He degraded himself, mingling his royal self with those skipping fools.

(...) They didn’t look with a special gaze, as they do at the sun when it shines only rarely.

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

Oh Ser, we do look upon you as the Sun :-) And you have indeed succeeded in keeping yourself fresh and new throughout your long and distinguished career, one which is entering its harvest season. Long live the King!

edit by @favor757​ 

Below the dot-dot-dot, the original text of Act 3, scene 2 (I’m still not sure how much this BBC 3 production will have modernized it)

Act 3, scene 2 - London. The palace.

Enter KING HENRY IV, PRINCE HENRY, and others

KING HENRY IV

Exeunt Lords

PRINCE HENRY

So please your majesty, I would I could Quit all offences with as clear excuse As well as I am doubtless I can purge Myself of many I am charged withal: Yet such extenuation let me beg, As, in reproof of many tales devised, which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear, By smiling pick-thanks and base news-mongers, I may, for some things true, wherein my youth Hath faulty wander'd and irregular, Find pardon on my true submission.

KING HENRY IV

God pardon thee! yet let me wonder, Harry, At thy affections, which do hold a wing Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost. Which by thy younger brother is supplied, And art almost an alien to the hearts Of all the court and princes of my blood: The hope and expectation of thy time Is ruin'd, and the soul of every man Prophetically doth forethink thy fall. Had I so lavish of my presence been, So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men, So stale and cheap to vulgar company, Opinion, that did help me to the crown, Had still kept loyal to possession And left me in reputeless banishment, A fellow of no mark nor likelihood. By being seldom seen, I could not stir But like a comet I was wonder'd at; That men would tell their children 'This is he;' Others would say 'Where, which is Bolingbroke?' And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, And dress'd myself in such humility That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths, Even in the presence of the crowned king. Thus did I keep my person fresh and new; My presence, like a robe pontifical, Ne'er seen but wonder'd at: and so my state, Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast And won by rareness such solemnity. The skipping king, he ambled up and down With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits, Soon kindled and soon burnt; carded his state, Mingled his royalty with capering fools, Had his great name profaned with their scorns And gave his countenance, against his name, To laugh at gibing boys and stand the push Of every beardless vain comparative, Grew a companion to the common streets, Enfeoff'd himself to popularity; That, being daily swallow'd by men's eyes, They surfeited with honey and began To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much. So when he had occasion to be seen, He was but as the cuckoo is in June, Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes As, sick and blunted with community, Afford no extraordinary gaze, Such as is bent on sun-like majesty When it shines seldom in admiring eyes; But rather drowzed and hung their eyelids down, Slept in his face and render'd such aspect As cloudy men use to their adversaries, Being with his presence glutted, gorged and full. And in that very line, Harry, standest thou; For thou has lost thy princely privilege With vile participation: not an eye But is a-weary of thy common sight, Save mine, which hath desired to see thee more; Which now doth that I would not have it do, Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.

PRINCE HENRY

I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious lord, Be more myself.

KING HENRY IV

For all the world As thou art to this hour was Richard then When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh, And even as I was then is Percy now. Now, by my sceptre and my soul to boot, He hath more worthy interest to the state Than thou the shadow of succession; For of no right, nor colour like to right, He doth fill fields with harness in the realm, Turns head against the lion's armed jaws, And, being no more in debt to years than thou, Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on To bloody battles and to bruising arms. What never-dying honour hath he got Against renowned Douglas! whose high deeds, Whose hot incursions and great name in arms Holds from all soldiers chief majority And military title capital Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ: Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes, This infant warrior, in his enterprises Discomfited great Douglas, ta'en him once, Enlarged him and made a friend of him, To fill the mouth of deep defiance up And shake the peace and safety of our throne. And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, The Archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer, Capitulate against us and are up. But wherefore do I tell these news to thee? Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, Which art my near'st and dearest enemy? Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear, Base inclination and the start of spleen To fight against me under Percy's pay, To dog his heels and curtsy at his frowns, To show how much thou art degenerate.

PRINCE HENRY

Do not think so; you shall not find it so: And God forgive them that so much have sway'd Your majesty's good thoughts away from me! I will redeem all this on Percy's head And in the closing of some glorious day Be bold to tell you that I am your son; When I will wear a garment all of blood And stain my favours in a bloody mask, Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it: And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights, That this same child of honour and renown, This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet. For every honour sitting on his helm, Would they were multitudes, and on my head My shames redoubled! for the time will come, That I shall make this northern youth exchange His glorious deeds for my indignities. Percy is but my factor, good my lord, To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf; And I will call him to so strict account, That he shall render every glory up, Yea, even the slightest worship of his time, Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart. This, in the name of God, I promise here: The which if He be pleased I shall perform, I do beseech your majesty may salve The long-grown wounds of my intemperance: If not, the end of life cancels all bands; And I will die a hundred thousand deaths Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow.

KING HENRY IV

A hundred thousand rebels die in this: Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein.

[btsinspirationtakesme]

Prompt! “He’ll never make you come like I do” and “No, Y/N...I’m in love with you”.

AN: Double prompt one shot where Jungkook is Y/N’s body guard who Y/N has  a massive crush on but is convinced someone like Jungkook could never like her back. 

Themes: Angst, slight posessiveness, jealousy,

“Ow!” 

“Are you okay? Let me have a look.” 

“No! Get away from me, dip shit.” Jungkook took your hand anyway, inspecting the small cut you now had on your finger from chopping peppers. 

“You know I get so hard everytime you insult me baby.” He winked in annoyance. You grit your teeth and shot daggers at him with your eyes. You were about to reach up to the cupboard to get yourself a plaster but Mr. Muscleman decided now would be a great time to lift you up on the counter.

“It’s just a cut. You don’t need to put me here.” You mumbled. He must have known you had a strength kink when it came to Jungkook that shut you up completely. It was like kryptonite. 

“I know.” He said anyway, getting the plaster box and disinfectant himself from the top cupboard.

“Why do you care anyway, if I hurt myself? A small cut won’t kill me.” You say, trying to be as plain and unaffected as possible. 

“Your dad would kill me if anything scratched you.” 

No he wouldn’t, you internally thought.

“You could just ask one of the maids to help me. Why are you doing it?” 

Jungkook didn’t reply as he elaborately took the plaster out of the box, disinfected it and straightened the orange strip out. 

You sighed. You had to get under his skin. Jungkook cared about you, teased you and made you crazy like no other guard did. 

“I’m going on a date tonight.” You said, interrupting the awkward silence. Jungkook still didn’t lose his precision though. 

“I think you should go to bed early tonight, I’ll be late coming back. Just a heads up.” You pressed on, and Jungkook finally finished wrapping the plaster around your finger. He was so gentle and brisk with his touches, feather light almost but somehow capable of sending bolts of energy into your body. 

He made eye contact, brown orbs reading your entire mind almost. He scanned your face, a smirk gracing his beautiful face as he popped his tongue and swirled it inside his cheek. Slowly, he brought his mouth close to your ear. You could feel a familiar fire. 

“He’ll never make you come like I do.”

Jungkook pressed himself off from the pressure his hands gave on the table and smirked at your speechless stare. 

He knew he owned you. For you, that was what was the most aggravating part about Jungkook. He knew he had immense power over you. In contrast, you felt like you were just his little plaything who was like every other pretty woman who probably fawned over him. This was why you just couldn’t accept your attraction to Jungkook. One night, you had lost to him and you loathed yourself after. He was so perfect, for you but you had a hard time even thinking that Jungkook felt something special for you. He knew he was good, and you felt like you were probably another addition on his bed stand. 

Sleeping with him was never, part of the plan. He owned you, but you didn’t want to stop you living your own life where you could own someones heart too, and they yours. 

Jungkook didn’t know it, but you loved every thing about him too much. It came from the way he scarfed down breakfast everytime you made it for him and outer guards on sunday mornings, or the twinkle in his eyes when he spoke about the album he was listening to, or the way he did everything with such minuscule detail and was so good at them, or the way he always managed to carry more than you thought was sane effortlessly, or the way he would sometimes look at you softly. It made your insides burn, and your chest tighten. Sometimes, you felt like you both could have unspoken communication, but you reminded yourself that was just your infatuation. Jungkook was quick to pick up on it though, and his teasing left you feeling red inside your cheeks most of the time. You thought it was over for both of you when a drunken mistake on your part, led you begging Jungkook into a dare where if he lost, you would have to sleep together. You were convinced Jungkook would win at darts, since he good at everything but a wave of silence hit the room when you won. 

You touch your neck, because thats the first spot his lips kissed you. Memories flood back to you of that December night. You thought briefly it was a turning point, but then you forced yourself to act casually the morning after. You were a coward, leaving a note next to his pillow reading for him to pick you up at lunch, because you were grabbing breakfast with Macy. At lunch, you acted as normally as possible, even joking about the dare since you couldn't imagine Jungkook feeling anything from it. You were right, Jungkook joked about the situation, and you both left it at that. On the outside, you were both fine, but any talk of dates had Jungkook stiff, and this was the first time he brought up your night together like he exactly knew he owned you. 

Jungkook was right. He owned you, but you couldn’t hold enough interest to him, so you never entertained the idea of you two together. 

Later that night, you had managed to score having Hobi as your guard to protect you during your date from a distance, instead of Jungkook. You had a feeling there was some agreement between the two, because the last date you went on with Jungkook there- your date left early because of the daggers Jungkook’s eyes shot him with everytime he tried to touch you. 

“What? I promised I wouldn't say anything to him.” Jungkook had said innocently as his defence when your date left you early at the movie theatre. 

“Wah, who is this guy?! Look, she’s wearing her special Louis Vuitton heels for him.” By special, Hoseok knew these were those special heels that looked amazing in bed. You playfully hit his arm as a few house staff glanced your way smiling. Jungkook was at the east wing, closest to the front door and kept his back towards you. He seemed exceptionally pissed off tonight, you could tell from the way he stood with his legs wider than usual and his posture rigid. 

“Don’t cook anything for me ajumma- I’m coming home really late!” You cried to your chef, secretly trying to also get a rise out of Jungkook. 

Nothing. He owned you, you didn't have any power over him. 

Hoseok and you were about to leave when Jungkook called Hobi over. You didn't look back until Hobi came up beside you in the car. 

“Here, Jungkook said it’s going to snow later tonight”. He handed you one of your go to coats. 

You thanked him, and took one last look at the East Wing door. It was time to try and get over someone that could never want you. 

As soon as you got to the restaurant, Hobi took his distance from you after wishing you good luck. He was visible nearby, just waiting for any danger should it approach you. You on the other had, didn’t have to wait long for your set up date. 

“Y/N? Hi, I’m Taehyung.” A soft voice caught your attention. His kind smile was the first thing you noticed about him, which made you instantly warm to him. 

“Hi, its so nice to meet you.” You said sweetly, something about him just made you want to speak as softly and politely as possible. 

Taehyung and you exchanged formalities and then took your table, beginning the process of getting to know each other. The thing that had you fascinated about this man with a warm smile and eyes was that he sounded so interested in everything you had to say. It was like he was full of questions. 

Taehyung’s eyes darkened as the night grew longer, and you were sure he was going to ask you to join him for a drink. 

Your hopes came down when he didn’t. “I’m so glad to have met you Y/N. Can I have the absolute pleasure of taking you to your home?” He asked, still so polite. His formal talk was endearing at first, but at the end of your date it felt like you were in a business meeting with a smooth talker. It felt like you had just been played almost, but unintentionally. Taehyung was genuinely a sweetheart, he made you almost feel vulture like for wanting something more...raw? 

Or maybe he just didn't want you. You were used to that feeling a lot. You agreed to let Taehyung take you home, and he even walked you up the porch stairs. At this point, you felt like you were in more of a high school date than anything. 

“I’ll call you later, Y/N. I had an amazing time with you tonight.” By now, you were expecting a chaste kiss on the lips at least but Taehyung ran the tip of his finger down from your head to chin. He smiled beautifully, before telling you goodnight. 

You looked at Hobi, who looked at you apologetically. “Get inside, Y/N. Breathe.” He tried to offer advice, but the only thing going in your mind right now was just how unwanted you felt. 

You slammed the door shut, and rushed up to your room. Your head was all over the place. The man that stole your heart, knew he had such a hold over  you which you could never see reciprocated so you took it on yourself to find someone who could understand you. Yet, here you were with date who seemed like he didn’t even want you. Was there something wrong with you? 

Quickly, you banished that thought from your head. You were someone who believed self love was the most important part of an individuals life. Only when you could love yourself, would you be ready to love others. Yet, you did believe in your self worth. So why was it you felt so shitty that you didn’t get the validation you craved from Taehyung back too? 

You didn't come out of your room that night until you were sure everyone was asleep. In that time, you had taken a shower, washed your face and put on some comfy pj’s. You hoped the puffiness from your sad shower cry had died down by now. 

Jungkook was sat in the kitchen, a glass of milk in his hands. His tie was disheveled as he sat there in his suit. 

“Why are you still up?” You asked, trying to break past the awkwardness of earlier on. 

“I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow morning.” He sniggered. 

Still not over this, are we?

“Let’s just say I’m not the most desirable catch around, Jungkook.” You said, voice croaking slightly as you opened the fridge and grabbed a jar of orange juice. 

Jungkook huffed. 

“No seriously, why are you home?” He pressed on. 

You ignored him, was this supposed to be a taunt? Your eyes began watering again as you poured your juice. 

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong baby girl?” His honey voice showed so much concern as he instantly got up, wiped your stray tear and held your face gently in his hand like it was precious. 

“Don’t call me that, I can’t do this anymore Jungkook.” You whispered, voice croaky. 

‘No one wants me Jungkook. I’m not enough for anyone. I’m not smart, or interesting, or funny or pretty or cu-” Your rant was interrupted by his familiar, sweet mouth meshing with yours. 

“Don’t.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss. “Ever.”. “Say”. Kiss. “You’re not wanted.” 

This wasn’t fair, he knew he had so much power over you. Every kiss was an electric current up your body. 

“Why? It’s easy for you to say, you know that you do things and I can’t think straight around you but-.” 

“You think it’s easy for me?” He laughed, a look of surprise on his face. 

“You really think it’s easy for me to see you, the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life, whose eyes just sparkle all the damn time when she talks to people, or who somehow manages to do everything right, or makes me feel like I’m actually useful, or can beat my ass in comebacks, or who does the craziest shit in her room that I just can’t help but love- you think it’s easy to see you doll yourself up for someone that isn’t me?” 

His voice grew angrier by the second. 

“Do you know how it makes me feel? To see you walk out the door, in those shoes that you wore when I was with you on the best night of my life, to go to someone else? Do you think I can sleep knowing that you're going to see another man?! Who isn’t me, it’s not my arms that’ll be wrapped around you?” He whispered now, eyes boring into you as wave after wave of realisation hit you. 

“No, you can’t like me.” You said.

“It would be so much easier if I didn’t. Maybe I still have a job because you’re so oblivious to how I’m absolutely obsessed with everything you do. I can't say no to anything you want. Anything baby, I’ll do it for you.” 

“You’re just doing your job.” You protested.

“No Y/N. I’m in love with you.”