#how they are both deeply lonely how they draw a line at anyone putting people at risk

[torgawl]

do you think part of the reason diluc still struggles with his resentment towards kaeya is because kaeya is more like what crepus wished diluc to be? crepus was so proud of diluc for his accomplishments as a knight and lived his dream through him as well and we know how much crepus' approval meant for diluc, more than any title or doing. i sometimes wonder if diluc feels hurt knowing that kaeya gets to live the equivalent to his past life as a knight as if nothing happened when he had to make sacrifices for his own peace of mind and sense of justice. i wonder if that's what pains him the most, not the fact kaeya ommited the truth about his past for so many years but having felt like he was the only one who cared to do something regarding his father's death and who showed any sense of uprightness when confronted with the knights' request to cover their mistake and negligence. i always think about how diluc might have felt like everything was a lie and his sense of betrayal. but maybe that didn't matter as much as having the support of his brother and someone he could share his pain with would have mattered. maybe the worst thing wasn't what kaeya did but what he didn't do; maybe it was never about his actions but the lack thereof.

[carpetbug]

tell me ab your bug and cat playlist!!!! (this is my main I’m zodoods dhsjvdsjj)

HI ZO 💕!! THANK U FOR INDULGING MY SILLY LITTLE SONG LISTS! i’ll give you a song or two from a couple <3

Chat Noir

Break (Alex G) - oh my god it just screams his sacrificial tendencies paired with his love for ladybug. obsessed with this song for him. I also see these sort of reflections? of other sides of him in this song? “I could disappear, if this is what makes you feel so real” cat walker out the fucking wazoo hello! “In my head I see bright lights… I think I’m feeling it now just like you did” “And I’ll break for you baby cause you make it feel so good” CHAT BLANC HELLOOOOOO!! anyways i’m super normal about this song and totally don’t have any plans to animate anything to this 👁️

Ladybug

happy news for sadness (Car Seat Headrest) - i see this song fitting both LB and mari! the obvious line being “You can never tell the truth but you can tell something that sounds like it” relating to how deeply she values honesty and truth, but ends up having to lie and hide things from almost all the people in her life. “Everytime I think about love, I think about me thinking about you … Everytime I think about love, I think about you thinking about me” sorry this is just so fucking ladynoir? thinking about you as in thinking about adrien, this boy i’ve devoted myself to loving, but when i think about love I also think about you, chat noir, thinking about me, ladybug, the girl you’re so openly in love with. how can those both be love when they’re so different? how can they both be the truth? are they even?

Marinette

Gambling Addiction (Leanna Firestone) - i’m so insane bonkers crazy for this song ITS SO GOOD GO LISTEN TO ALL OF LEANNAS MUSIC anyways. how marinette falls quite literally head over heels when she’s in love! but she ultimately feels like she’s always playing a losing game! I also love the whole concept of marinette being both luck as ladybug and unlucky as herself with always saying the wrong thing, falling over, etc. “I wanna be pulling lucky numbers and praying to lucky stars, finding four leaf clovers and counting all my cards but i’m walking under ladders, seeing black cats, spilling table salt, and stepping on every crack” “so i’m crossing all my fingers, i’m pressing all my luck cause I know misfortune just won’t be enough to keep me from betting it all on love again”

Adrien

TV (Alex G) - adrien’s relationship with his parents! especially with emelie just sort of being gone? and he never gets to have that closure? ESPECIALLY WITH HER BEING AN ACTRESS?? AND GABRIEL NOT LETTING ADRIEN WATCH HER ROLES?? “I get feelings from the TV, they can’t hurt me, they don’t know me” “He gets lonely, he forgets me and he bought us a TV cause you don’t come around anymore” IDK GUYS I CANT PUT IT INTO FUNCTIONAL WORDS BUT DO U SEE THE VISION??

Chat Blanc

The Wolf (Fever Ray) - i love this song for chat blanc so much! (here is a drawing i did with lyrics from it!) I just am so obsessed with the vibe and tone, how deep and echoey it is, but with the intermittent hollers! it gives a very specific feeling, I love it. “And it’s poison in his blood. Big fire, big burn, into the ashes and no return” just like a perfect reference to everyone being turned into literal ash! it works so well with the chaotic, destructive nature of blanc.

Shadybug

DICTATOR (REI AMI) - i think the general vibe of the song is so fitting for her! especially the really direct transition to a much softer and emotional tune/lyrics! RAAAA it’s just so telling of how she makes shadybug into this terrifying powerful figure that can and will hurt anyone in her way when she’s just marinette, this lonely teenager with one too many problems and a shitty/dangerous coping mechanism! “I am not your queen, i’m your dictator. bend the fucking knee, yeah bitch, that was an order! what you say to me, huh? bitch speak louder! you know i reign supreme” it’s just screams shadybug to me. also hehehehe reign supreme get it

Adrinette

Romeo & Juliet (Peter McPoland) - okay imma be so fr this one makes me feel a little too silly in the heart so i unfortunately do not have the words to explain but please imagine and chew on these lyrics “I’d say “oh I love you” to my Juliet, if you only knew, i’d kill for you, i am for you, i am just who you need me to be” “i hope you mean it when you say that I am yours and you are mine”

I Love You Too (Peter McPoland) - i’m a sucker for this man’s music he makes some bangers but yeah this song it just screams adrinette to me. especially post season five, seeing them get to explore starting a relationship together and navigate their own love!! also just really shows how devoted adrien is to loving marinette, how he holds her to no expectations, values her comfort and happiness above all else during their interactions LIKE GOD HE LOVES HER SO MUCH HES WILLING TO SIT AND WAIT AND LOVE HER IN SILENCE UNTIL SHES READY FOR IT TO BE AS LOUD AS IT FEELS!! IDK!! “i love you too, too much to say” “i love your hands held close to mine, the way that our fingers all intertwine”

Ladynoir

Best Song Ever (One Direction) - guys. do i even have to explain. it is so chat flirting with ladybug. it is so entirely season one ladynoir. “maybe it’s the way she walked straight into my heart and stole it” “I said “can i take you home with me?” she said “never in your wildest dreams””

Shameless (Camila Cabello) - some fun ladynoir reveal brain food! lb getting fed up with identities clogging her emotions and deciding to throw it aside and let chat make the decision himself “it’s been a secret for the longest time” “now that you have me, do you want me still?”

Marichat

HandClap (Fitz and The Tantrums) - ok it’s honestly just the part “Every night when the stars come out, am I the only living soul around? Need to believe you could hold me down cause I’m in need of something good right now” BUT HEAR ME OUT!! Marinette and Chat seeking each other out when they need comfort, someone to vent to. Finding each other, making this connection and this safe space with so much warmth and care between them that it grows from just mutual support to adoration. I need something good right now, I need you.

Vampire Empire (Big Thief) - tbh i’m not like 100% sure what about this song is so entirely marichat to me but. it is. More angsty, it makes me think of marinette and chat trying to foster a romance between them but it just tasting… stale? like a dead plant drowning from being overwatered. “the milk has just expired, all the leaves are dead. I’m not quiet, you’ve been quiet, just receiving what you said.” They do want each other, and there’s such intense love between them, but it just always feels like they’re going about it the wrong way. “Where you can’t seem to hold me, can’t seem to let me go, so I can’t find surrender, and I can’t keep control”

Ladrien

Sports (Beach Bunny) - Ladybug getting to explore Adrien’s hobbies with him as they get close! spending her time with him, learning any new skill he’s willing to teach just to make him happy “if you feel lonely, I could be lonely with you! Tell me baby, why do you seem so blue?” but eventually kind of getting tired of playing these games around their feelings and just wanting to be with him outside of these activities “I’m tired of waiting, I was never good at sports. Save the games for the girls on the tennis courts”

We’ll Never Have Sex (Leith Ross) - THE SOFTNESS!! THE GENTLENESS!! THE CARE AND COMPASSION AND LOVE AND SIMPLICTY! “If I said you could never touch me, you’d come over and say I looked lovely” ITS JUST SO THEM!! Adrien respecting these boundaries, listening to his lady, caring for and loving her regardless of what form it comes in. “Oh you kissed me, just to kiss me, not to make me cry. It’s was simple, you are sweetness, let’s just sit a while”

[remsmoonlight]

— title : point of view

— word count : 3k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : tomorrow is something that is never promised, less so when the dead walk the Earth. being trapped for the night when a storm pours down upon you and daryl while trapped in a decrepit house by a few walkers are you sick and tired of hiding what you feel.

— warnings : some swearing, talk of potential death ( of the reader ) , a wee bit of angst that turned into more at the end :)

note: omg another daryl oneshot i gotta chill ajksajksk, but i had like seven main bullet points i made to follow when writing this and i followed like...... two, three at the most, anyways.... enjoy? this is brought to u by ariana’s discography lmao oops it does be cute at some point tho ... also felt a bit hsm with that one line at the end ahaha but fr lemme stop talking now

      ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   requests are open !   *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Dark and gloomy clouds swirl over your head, blending into an extremely large and angry looking ready to descend from above. You wonder to yourself just how long you have left before the loud cracks that crumble through the air to accompany the forceful winds and pouring drops of rain are finally released. Halfway through the trip back from the town that lays after miles from the prison the car used decided it preferred to lay quietly in the middle of the road, shortly after the sickly sputters from the engine you heard Daryl mutter a few curse words. You were unable to hold in your amusement, despite the fact that a lack of transport obviously leaves you in a vulnerable position, it felt like it was your luck for that to happen to you.

It’s why you stay behind following the hunter in silence.

Studying him with focused eyes you can’t help but wonder how he never realises when you’re unable to tear your gaze away from him. In the beginning when you began to develop a certain affection for him you had been glad, for it to be too embarrassing for the thoughts you had about him in your head. In spite of this, when you realised that it was much more than a crush did you wish for him to mind read, because you have no idea just how to approach him about such a sensitive topic and while he can be tender about feelings, it’s also his downfall.

“ it’ll be gettin’ dark soon, there should be some houses down there to spend the night in. “

You stop in your tracks with a curious look that bled so suddenly into your features you had no time to stop it.

“ you don’t want to carry on? I mean, we’re not far from home? “ you question him with a hint of fear coddling your words.

“ we’d be trippin’ over our feet. Let’s back it back in one piece, yeh? “

Nodding, you regain your pace. It’s been a few months since you’d been hopping from one house to the other during that harsh winter, the bare thought of having to stay in yet another frail structure sent a chilly hand drawing its claws deeply up your spine. If you never had your group, you don’t think you would have made a winter like that, barely protected from the elements and the walkers that wished to plunge their teeth cavernously into your flesh.

“ as long as we leave as soon as the sun comes up. Please. “ you plead, your words filter off into a gentle volume from your position.

Leaves crumble and buckle underneath the weight, the sound of crickets dominate your surroundings as the two of you walk in silence. You itch to start a conversation, but the fear of distracting the man and annoying withhold the words that wish to fall from your lips, even then you don’t know how to begin. What would you say? There’s not much to talk about in a world where the dead have risen, where they wish to drag the world into decomposition.

Your wandering mind is pulled from its very own depths from a noise coming from Daryl, he’d turned to catch your attention. You both set to work attempting to enter any of the abandoned houses, hoping one had been left unlocked at some point.

Of course, luck is scarce. Despite there not being a soul who occupies them, they’re still somehow locked. Mournfully, you wonder if the owners of these homes had thought the governments and armies would eventually lock everything under their control, to the point that there would be a house for them to come back to? Your heart thuds painfully in your chest to think about what happened to them, and if they’re even still surviving.

A large thud draws you back to the present, the wooden door splinters at the force Daryl puts into a large kick to its frame.

“ well, there goes the lock. “ you mutter humourously, lifting the heavy bag higher up onto your shoulders as you walk in the open door.

“ we’ll put the couch there, stop any unfriendly types that come our way. “

“ I don’t know if there’s anyone left anymore. “ you reply, dropping the bag to the floor and moving towards the couch.

Situated on the other side of it, you grip the plush handle and lift with a struggle. It’s a strain to get it through the doorway to  turn it around the corner, but eventually it happens. Daryl is joined by your presence by his side, you both push ⏤ this time it’s an easier feat with two of you on one side to dedicate your strength and weight to advance it.

As soon as you finish, a heavy crackle cuts through the air.

“ we got here just in time, huh? “

“ just about. “ he answers you, sparing a glance before moving through the lower floor ⏤ searching for anything that can be taken back to the prison.

Thunderstorms had never been your favourite thing growing up. Of course, rain was something that calmed you from the anxieties life brought, but the thunder and lightning is what you loathed. Never knowing when you were about to receive a fright from the loud rumbles and flashing lights ruined the whole experience for you.

The rustling Daryl makes is the only thing that brings you comfort in this moment, keeping you grounded and away from your thoughts. It doesn’t escape your notice that these houses feel no more than graveyards with the memories that have no use to live, instead haunting the structures with what could have been had chaos and death not taken over. You climb the stairs, hugging your sides as you refuse to touch the handrail leading up stairs.

There is a middle room with access granted without having to push open the door to gain entry. Your eyes scan the room’s interior, even with the dust and grime that bespeckle its surfaces, you can still see its beauty. Now, who does that remind you of? Your mind cheekly thinks before you banish it into the shadows of your brain, where you know it will force itself out with an immense stubbornness.

Despite the thunder booming in the distance frequently, you can’t help but admire the beauty of rain drops falling to the ground with a dainty grace only it holds. The sky continues to grow dimmer, only seeing the rain on your level and lower, no street lights flood the street to aid you in being able to see torrent from above. Jumping at another roar of sound from the storm, your heart begins to pick up its pace, so much you don’t realise Daryl joining you in the room.

“ scared? “

Turning around with such speed that leaves you surprised whiplash did not greet you, Daryl is left smirking at your reaction.

“ yeah, I hate these things. “ you respond, a bitterness coating each word heavily as you speak.

“ more than walkers? “ he questions you, as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“ well, I suppose not that much .. “ another clap of thunder interrupts you, the rain beating harder and harder on the windows of the bedroom. “ can we talk about anything? This shit really grates on my nerves. “

“ what y’wanna talk about? “

Your mind stalls, with the previous thoughts that had been swirling in a state of disorder your draw a blank. A continuous thump downstairs interrupts your shrug, speeding down the stairs you realise a few walkers are trying to enter the property, of course their lack of intelligence fails to realise they’re throwing themselves into the walls and not the blocked doors.

“ shall we take them out? “ moving closer to the lengthy curtained window next to the door to get a better look, you can see three walkers hauling themselves mindlessly against the structure.

“ nah, the storm’ll get ‘em soon enough. “ he shakes his head softly, your mind taking note of the lack of proximity between your bodies as he repeats your action. “ no need to risk ourselves. “

“ wouldn’t be the first time you’ve risked your life. “

“ s’nothin. “ he contradicts gruffly, wiping a finger across his nose at your words. He truly doesn’t view it as that, refusing to think of it as risking his life. To Daryl, it doesn’t feel like risking everything to help the people around him, it’s not something he can find the words to explain but all he knows if there’s a chance, he would do it again and again.

“ Daryl Dixon, so humble. “ you speak warmly with a gentle smile threading itself into your features. “ you need to give yourself more credit. “

“ stop. “

“ you’re as brave as anyone in the group. I’d say braver than Rick. “ you joke, setting yourself from the entryway to the sitting room. “ although, if I had to choose you and Carol .. I’m sorry, but Carol every time! “

“ damn woman frightens me. “

Laughter light in weight dances airily between you with an elegance in its movement. For even a fraction of a second you forget that there are walkers that are itching to break through into the property, that there’s an angry storm that threatens to demolish whatever stands in its path, because right now it’s only you both here and now in this one room.

“ she’s come a long way. “ you agree, pulling a lone chocolate bar from your bag. Your favourite and you’re thanking the universe that it hasn’t spoiled yet. Turns out all these preservatives and chemicals have some use after all you note to yourself as half is offered to the man standing across from you.

“ so have ‘yuh. “ he acknowledges, taking the broken half of the candy from you.

“ I think we all have to be honest. I don’t think any one of us are the people we used to be. “

“ now who’s humble? “ Daryl asks, his tone light in relaxed merriment. He’d long since taken note of the transformation you’d gone through, he’s never seen you so strong as a person before.

“ don’t you turn this round on me, Dixon. “

The two of you fall silent, you direct your gaze to the window and the raindrops that litter the window pane’s surface. The harsh noises thundered no more, leaving a calm pitter of precipitation to fall with no interruption. From your position on the second couch, you wrap around a thin decorational blanket around your arms, leaning your cheek against the palm of your hand.

Pretending the world hasn’t gone to hell, that it’s just a normal evening where you’re admiring the scene before you. Skies that weep heavily is what the Georgian greenery has been calling out for, especially since the warmer temperatures have returned in full force. Switching your line of sight to Daryl, you feel a mellowness in the pit of your stomach as you watch him fondly. You can’t be sure if it’s the lack of distractions or eyes from your group, but you feel a miniscule spark of confidence within your confines.

“ come sit down, you can relax for a bit. “ you call, trying to convince him lightly. Your hand moves to pat the seat next to you.

“ can’t relax in this world. “ despite the disagreement in his words he does move towards your position on the plush seat.

“ it doesn’t mean we can’t make it. Otherwise we’d be burnt out, I’d hate to see that happen to you. “ You divulge as you reply to him, little inklings of hope in your tone.

“ y’don’t gotta worry ‘bout me. “

“ but I do, Daryl. “ you groan as a dull glumness contorts your features into something new. “ I mean, the lengths you go to .. you scare me to death. “

“ don’t be dumb. “ Daryl warns lowly as he shakes his head, few have shared their vulnerability with him. Perhaps only Carol, his mind can’t wrap itself around the fact that people genuinely care for him. Growing up, he’d been taught of it as a weakness. Something that should not exist, no one cared when he went missing for a short while as a child, and now having people who show him the opposite? It leaves a strange feeling to settle within his heart.

“ please, I need to tell you. I mean, I might not even be here tomorrow. “

“ nah, don’t say that. Y’will. “ he argues, he doesn’t even want to entertain the notion of not seeing you even for a day ⏤ let alone forever.

Truthfully, you’d not been particularly close. He understands it now, he pushed everyone away wherever he had the chance to. But after the downfall of the farm? You wouldn’t let up in trying to forge bonds that could rival even the strongest of metals. You had no idea, but he’d overheard you talking to Beth one day. When you said you didn’t want to be afraid of living, to have something worth dying for. That struck him deep.

“ neither you or I can guarantee that. Now, call me selfish but I can’t die with what ifs in my brain. “ you explain, you know it’s probably selfish to announce any kind of fondness for a person nowadays, because you can be ripped from their existence without any kind of announcement. But if you were to depart from the realm of the living, you’d want to have affectionate memories to experience and for them to look back on.

“ what y’sayin? “

Your eyes well up in frustration, whether it’s over the way you find the words are hiding beneath your tongue like cowards under the cloak of night or over the fact that you have begun this topic of conversation, backing yourself into a corner. There’s so much you want to say but how you should is not coming easy. Eloquence in your words is something you find yourself yearning for with all of your being should it bring you a happy ending to this discussion.

This isn’t a fairytale, there’s no happy or bad endings in real life you sorely think. There’s just reality, and the conclusions for that are neither black or white.

Fingertips grip the roots of your hair for a fleeting moment before letting go as if you’d never clutched them in exasperation at all.

Shutting your eyes so hard they hurt, you muster up the courage to speak the truth you’ve locked away in your heart, allowing it the light it has been deprived of for so long.

“ Daryl, I ⏤ “ your voice shuts off with a painful sound, sighing as if to psych yourself up. “ I feel more for you than I probably should. “

When Daryl says nothing, you open your eyes. Your entire being preparing yourself for the worse answer, this moment may hurt now but the pain will lessen. At least your soul feels lighter with the hidden information no longer chained to it as a burden, no longer will it have to be weighed down by its mass.  

“ I know it’s probably not what you want to hear, but I couldn’t keep it in any longer. “

“ who said I didn’t wanna hear? “

“ ⏤ what ? “ you question, your brows falling lower as you squint in disbelief. You wonder if your brain is forming a false memory to protect itself later on.

“ y’don’t nothin’ to do with me though. “ he hesitates, the automatic response to push away anything good that comes his way to the furthest reaches. “ nothin’ but trouble. “

A sorrowful smile full of grief clouds your features, your unshed tears threaten to fall. If only he could see himself from your point of view, he doesn’t see just how admirable of a human being he is. Yes, he has his flaws but who doesn’t? In all of humanity, you don’t think there has ever been a perfect person, but it’s how they approach their downsides that shows the peak of their humanity, that they don’t let the darkness fester in their heart, to poison their soul into becoming a shell of a kind hearted person. That shows the strength of their character.

Daryl? You feel honoured to have been a first hand witness to see him turn from a hot ball of anger to a softer, kinder soul.

“ Daryl, you really don’t see what I do.” you forsake everything, leaning forwards and laying your hands across his. Taking in the immense warmth from them. “ That? It hurts me, because you’re rather amazing. “

Saying nothing, Daryl looks down at your intertwined hands. He wants the chance that’s being offered, though the fear of being the one who poisons everything he lays his touch upon settles heavily on his shoulder. No one has come out unscarred when dealing with a member of the Dixon family, his family tree being nothing more than toxic, with weeds that wrap around the limbs of the poor fool who got involved with them, as they drag them to their lowly depths. He doesn’t know how to let go of the past and for this he continues to pay, with the high price being his happiness in the present world. No response leaves his lips, for the first time in a long time he doesn’t know what to say, while knowing what he wants to say. It’s not until he feels arms wrapped around the top of his shoulders is he brought back down to Earth, a shudder of a breath is released from him as he realises what is going on. The action is reciprocated in earnest, you’re full of gratitude that he’s accepting your comfort ⏤ knowing it could have been a gamble of a decision, a fifty fifty chance of him reacting negatively or positively. You, too, draw comfort from the position you both find yourself, clutching the other. Hope dawns on your heart, knowing Daryl is not a particularly affectionate man. This means a lot, for it’s a leap for you both.

“ thank you. “ he whispers in the night. You know that this is the start of something new.

[kingreywrites]

So Pardon The Dust

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2493

Summary: When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king has been dead for years.

Note: this is bittersweet, but the idea couldn’t leave me alone, and i had to write it out! so yeah, edmund’s death is heavily talked about, be careful if that’s not your thing! I just love Destinies Collide, and love what-ifs, so this story was born from there asghdh

Read on ao3

When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king has been dead for years. 

They don't know that. What they do know is that once their travel in a shaky gondola over an immense rift ends, everything seems too easy. The kingdom is dark, cold, smells of dust and rust permeating the air, and it makes it hard to imagine that anyone has ever lived in such a place. But Rapunzel's hair pushes her forward, and they don't spend any more time thinking about it. 

They enter the equally dark and cold castle, searching for the moonstone. 

Desperate for a flicker of warmth, Lance lights a fire in a lifeless living room with no windows. Eugene's gaze is drawn to a painting, throning above the fireplace and depicting a man and a woman he presumes to be the king and queen. 

He cannot explain the deep uneasiness he feels at the sight, or even why he can hardly tear his eyes away from the picture. His heart is racing, and he explains it by blaming it on his concern for Rapunzel. 

The queen's smile remains etched in his mind as he moves forward. 

The king has been dead for years. They don't know it, but Eugene finds a room filled with overhanging statues and, sitting in front of a gigantic door, is a tiny skeleton covered in too big clothes and dust. A dark crown still hangs grotesquely on its head, but the first thing Eugene sees is the purple gem necklace between the fingers of its single hand. The same as the queen's in the painting. 

Eugene has a bitter taste in his mouth. Rapunzel holds his hand, also upset, and he remembers that they are here for her, and for her destiny. He holds her fingers tighter between his, and they move toward the door. 

The ghosts are… certainly a surprise.

Death is not something new to Eugene, yet he can't help but feel nauseous when the king's ghost appears so close to his own skeleton, eyes full of a melancholy and anger that only he understands.

He doesn't seem to be capable of speech. He just groans and attacks, mindlessly guarding the stone that cost him his life. When Adira arrives to help them, she calls him Edmund, a soft grief in her voice, and Eugene keeps the name in a corner of his head. Edmund. Not a ghost, not a skeleton, but Edmund, who protected his kingdom until he died trapped within it.

Finally, Eugene is the one who destroys his statue. He cuts off its head, and tries to forget how a few seconds before, it was his own that could have been lost, if the king's axe had not struck beside it. Luck saved his life this time.

Adira asks Rapunzel to enter the moonstone chamber by herself. She says that it's her destiny, and hers alone. Eugene wants to protest, worry burning in his heart, but he doesn't even have the time - Rapunzel looks at Cassandra, and announces that the three of them will go inside. He should be relieved, but he can't help but take another look at the king's- Edmund's body. Many people have died for this stone, and the more time passes, the more terrified he is of what awaits them on the other side. He knows death, more than any other member of this group probably; he's been around it personally. He promised himself when he came back to life, that he would never let Rapunzel die the way he did, slowly and violently, when she has so much to live for.

He doesn't know where this promise will lead him. 

When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king is dead. They enter easily, and though the ghosts of past rulers stand in their way, the path to the moonstone is far from the most difficult adventure he has ever experienced. Eugene is worried, of course he is - he's afraid of the conclusion of their journey, afraid of what he cannot predict. Rapunzel tells him she loves him, and he almost wants to throw up, because they're in the middle of a kingdom murdered by that exact stone Rapunzel intends to grab. I love you too, he thinks, but can't manage to say, because the words sound like a goodbye, and he's not ready for that. He'd die one thousand times for her, if she asked him to. He'd die for her against her will too, if necessary, but he knows he can't get in the way today. As desperate as he is to protect her, he knows how much she values being able to draw her own path.

He wants to grab the moonstone first because he loves her, and because he loves her, he stays back.

That's not the case for everyone. He notices too late Cass running for it, and Demanitus' warning echoes once again in his ears, mocking now that the only thing he can do is try to pull Rapunzel to safety as the world explodes in colours. The king is dead, and their friendship with Cassandra is too, the shadow of Gothel haunting Rapunzel once again despite how much she deserves to be free from it. Cassandra flees, Eugene hurts his arm when she pushes him away, and Rapunzel runs after her, desperate to salvage what can be.

It doesn't amount to much, in the end.

Things settle down, as much as they can while Rapunzel still sits listlessly near the broken bridge Cassandra left behind, and Eugene goes in the castle again, in search of bandages this time. His left arm hurts.

He doesn't expect to find Adira, standing silently in front of... Edmund. Her back is rigid, her mouth in a straight line, but when he calls her name, he sees a foreign melancholy in her eyes. He doesn't know her that well, but there's a lot Eugene can understand from looking into somebody's eyes.

Adira sighs, shoulders lowering, and he's sure she hears his unsaid question. "I shouldn't be surprised," she says, but it's clear that in a way, she is. "I… knew, that King Edmund was not well, when we left. I often considered that he might very well be…" she trails off, her eyes falling on his body again.

"It's different to be sure," Eugene responds softly, his voice loud in the silence of this immense room. Watching them - Adira, and this skeleton, barely hanging together enough to recognise a human shape - it was difficult to conceive that once upon a time, they had stood here together, alive and happy, perhaps. He can't imagine what it feels like to see an old friend this way, with no warning. "Adira…"

"It's okay, Fishskin," she smiles, and in her voice, he could hear the echoes of all the time Rapunzel told him she was fine, because she didn't know how to act when she was not.

He barely knows Adira. Both because he didn't ask, and because she didn't want him, or anyone, to know her. But he can guess easily that her life had never been one of peace, not even before leaving the Dark Kingdom, and losing contact with the other members of the Brotherhood. He doesn't think she's unhappy, per se, but he- he knows, they all know, especially now after everything that happened, that anger and fear and grief are not emotions that should be let to fester until they explode. Maybe it's his worry for Rapunzel speaking; maybe he's confusing everything, and Adira is simply dealing with the situation the way she wants to, but before he can think better of it, Eugene takes a step forward, and asks her if she wants to bury the king's body.

"To- To give him a better resting place," he explains awkwardly, her eyes piercing right through him. He's ready to say sorry and hope she doesn't kill him for overstepping her boundaries, but, to his surprise, she softens, a genuine if sad smile on her lips.

"Actually Fishskin, that's… a great idea."

And so they do it. Adira finds a bear hood that the King used to wear - Dabney, she says reverently - and they place his bones in it, carefully moving everything in tandem. They don't really talk while doing it. There's not much to be said. Eugene thinks of this king, who was so desperate to save his kingdom that he doomed it, and he thinks about death, too. About how lonely it is.

Adira leads them down a few corridors, and they emerge in a small, grey looking garden. They walk until they find an unmarked tombstone.

"The queen," Adira announces shortly, and Eugene wonders if she helped bury her too.

It's not the first time Eugene digs a grave for someone. He remembers starkly getting out of the tower with Rapunzel, both of them entirely different people than who they were before, and finding a cloak and ashes at the bottom of it. He remembers how quietly distraught Rapunzel had been, and how he had proposed to bury what was left of Gothel.

Shaking his head, he tries to think about something else, but it's hard given the situation. His arm aches at each of his movements. Surprisingly, Adira breaks the silence, and that's enough to distract him.

"I often disagreed with King Edmund," she says, without looking at him. "He was a good king, but his duty to the moonstone blinded him to the bigger picture, and I was afraid that it would lead him, and us, to lose everything. I was right, as I often am," she chuckles, but there's no mirth behind it. Simply grief. Something that can't be quite put into words.

"How did he lose his arm?" Eugene asks, voice low as they finally lower the bones into the ground. His eyes catch the sight of the necklace falling aside, and when they're done, he picks it up, thumb running over the smooth surface of the gem.

"The queen died," Adira whispers. She's looking at the necklace too, when he raises his head. "Edmund's grief led him to act on the anger he had been repressing for too long, but the moonstone was much more powerful than he imagined. Its retaliation costs him everything he held dear."

Gently, Adira takes the necklace from him, and Eugene can't explain the impulse that makes him want to hold onto it for a little while longer.

He's sentimental, he reasons. There's something deeply touching about this man dying while looking at the last thing connecting him to his late wife. These are good explanations, but neither of them addresses the unease and bitterness rising in Eugene's throat. He doesn't understand it himself.

Adira looks at the necklace for a long time, emotions he can't name in her expression. Memories she will not share make her frown, and Eugene feels more and more like he doesn't belong in this moment.

"Should we… bury that with him?" he asks awkwardly. Adira bites her lips, and finally shakes her head.

"This necklace was special for the queen. I know she intended to pass it down to her children."

A terrible voice in Eugene's mind reminds him that it's too late - they both died, and that necklace, that tradition, died with them too. He's hit by the tragedy of it all again, relentlessly reminded that the king passed away long before anyone could try to save him. And they would have, Rapunzel would have convinced him to let her through, she would have given him faith, Eugene is sure of that. He thinks that's why he's angry, too. The king has been dead for years, maybe, alone and desperate until his very last moments. And Eugene, Eugene wishes to go back in time, and give him another chance, get him the help he needed before it was too late.

He has never been good at accepting unhappy endings.

"When… When King Edmund banished us from the Dark Kingdom," Adira continues, "he also made another sacrifice. He sent his son away, when he was barely a baby, to be raised far from the moonstone and its dangers."

Son. A baby, sole survivor of the royal family, who probably doesn't know he is. A baby, who isn't one anymore now, but who is probably alive, and the thought is enough for Eugene to feel something new - he'd call this hope, but he's not sure that it fits. Closure, perhaps.

"You want to give their son the necklace," he smiles shakily.

"That's what needs to be done," Adira agrees, before putting away the necklace in her pocket. The gem catches the moonlight one last time, shining brighter than before, and it's easier for Eugene to let go, this time. "However, I did not keep track of the prince. I don't know what became of him, after we left, but I will keep searching until I find him."

"Hey," Eugene grins, wanting to lighten the atmosphere a little, "you searched for the mystical and maybe non-existent sundrop, and you found it, so I'm sure a prince will be no trouble. And if you need anything, we'll be happy to help," he adds, more earnest this time.

There's a newfound warmth in her eyes, and she inclines her head, acknowledging his words. The situation feels easier, somewhat. They finish replacing the dirt on top of the king's body, and Adira places a little stone to mark the emplacement.

The king is dead, and Cassandra is gone, but Eugene wants to believe that they all can find their own healing in time.

One wrong move reawakens the pain in his arm, and Adira gauges him when he flinches. She tells him that if there are any medical supplies around there, they're probably in the King's personal quarters.

With her instructions, it's not too hard to find them. The bedroom he finds is enormous, which only heightens how empty and dark it feels. Blindly, Eugene makes his way to a window, and pushes the heavy curtains away, letting the moonlight flood the room, and reveal the ambient dust like as many little stars in the night sky.

One side of the bed is unmade. Next to the other, there is an empty crib.

His heart is racing, and he can't explain it. He turns to the bedside table, and does find what appear to be bandages, next to a pile of papers, so close to the bed that it is easy to guess that the king often looked at them. 

Eugene approaches. He tells himself, without much conviction, that he should not look. That even in death the king deserves to keep his privacy. Whatever these papers are, they must have meant a lot to him, keeping him company in his darkest hours, and Eugene doesn't belong in this story.

It only takes him a step, and a second, to recognize his old wanted posters.

[thedreadvampy]

ok look please understand that it is absolutely normal to want to live with your best friends, have casual sex with your friends, raise kids with your friends, and keep your friends as the most important people in your life.

whether it's a qpr or not, that's normal and it's healthy.

I think people are often encouraged to think that the historical, traditional expectation is to put your partner before your friends but that isn't...really true? men have very rarely been expected to have a stronger social connection with their partners than their friends, and the only reason women have been expected to centre romantic relationships is because they've historically been socially and financially dependent on making and maintaining a strong relationship.

that isn't to say that your partner shouldn't be as important as your friends. after all, at least in my social setting, relationships aren't a primarily financial and political arrangement - hopefully you are with your partner because they're a good friend to you as well as a partner.

like it's cheesy to say but Sam and Kofi are some of my best friends and that's a big part of our relationship. but like. they aren't the only friends I'm that close to. I'm differently close to, say, my friends Alex and Jake (who I think are probably the most important people in my life), or my friend Joe (who I've lived with in a mutually supportive way for 5 years), or my friend Courtney (who I hook up with regularly and love dearly) or my friend Lesedi (who I have very seriously considered co-parenting a child with) but I'm not less close to them.

and this isn't a Weird Me Thing either. like:

probably about half the people I know have housemates who they've lived with, moved house with multiple times, and who are as intimately involved with their lives as their romantic partners, often more

where I grew up and most places I've been, most people have "aunties" - your mum's best friends who stepped in to help with the kids and who are part of the family. I myself traveled down half the country regularly to help support a friend who was a lone parent while his son was little, from looking after a baby for days at a time to helping him look for daycares and booking doctors appointments, and that's super normal - when I and most of my friends were kids we were all used to spending up to 1/3 of our week at a parent's best friend's house. that's literally a big chunk of the role godparents play in many people's lives too. it takes a village to raise a child and formally or informally most cultures expect that the parents' close friends will chip in and love and care for the child.

Most adults I know have at least one friend who they carve out at least a few hours a week to spend time with - go to the cinema, go for a coffee, cook dinner, catch up and vent and offer emotional support.

Friends with benefits? totally a really thing whatever people tell you, it doesn't have to be emotionally romantic and often actively feels weird to be

It's normal to grieve when a friendship ends and it often affects people as deeply or more deeply than a relationship ending

like, this isn't to say that a lot of media messaging posits this sort of stuff as immature/less important (and for men, the dreaded A Bit Gay) but that messaging actively runs counter to how most people live their lives in the real world, and you know. in a film when someone finds a partner they become the Most Important Thing In Their Lives. in real life most of your friends will agree you're being kind of a jerk if you consistently blow them off in favour of your partner at any age.

and I think the thing that concerns me is the degree to which the idea that you're expected as an adult to choose between romance and maintaining close, meaningful friendships is uncritically absorbed and reflected in how a lot of otherwise very thoughtful people talk about relationships, romance, sex and friendships.

like if your expectation is that having intimate friendships can only happen if you don't have important/lasting romantic/sexual relationships, or that having a relationship means you can't have or want friendships deeper than casual hangouts and occasional Emotion Chats...like, that will harm you.

Not everyone wants or needs romantic/sexual relationships, true, but everyone, regardless of whether they also want that, needs supportive and meaningful and lasting friendships as part of a fully actualised social life. As I say, those needs might be met by some of the same people (I've been in a relationship with Sam for 9 years, but we've been friends since I was 14 and while I can imagine a life where we're not dating or having sex, I genuinely can't bear to imagine a life without his friendship) but emotionally close friendships are still a genuine need.

(plus honestly if the only place you can get emotional closeness is a sexual/romantic partner, that's a very vulnerable place to be in. both for you and for them. It's not good to only have one person you have a serious, close, mutually supportive emotional relationship with - ime most people do best with like 4 or 5 close friends minimum (one or more of whom may or may not be their sexual/romantic/queerplatonic partner)

and this is where I'm dipping a toe into the Spicy (shitty) Discourse, because I don't at a object to the idea of queerplatonic relationships (I don't necessarily understand them, but honestly I haven't understood anything since 1999) it worries me how many people defend the idea of qpps by saying WOULD YOU DO X WITH A FRIEND????

and I understand the defensive impact bc tbh when people say "explain the difference between a queerplatonic partner and a friend" they are very rarely asking in good faith - they've already decided that aro/ace people Just Want To Be Special and that qpps are a Stupid Tumblr Queer Concept.

and it's a shitty question anyway imo because like. I know there's a difference between friends-with-benefits and Girlfriends on an emotional level, or between a friend and a non-sexual romantic relationship. I know there's a difference and most of these people would agree but if you asked me to draw a hard line to define This is Not Romantic and This is Romantic I'd be stumped. it's an emotional reality not a behavioural one so it's not a clearcut concept and it may be different for everyone

B u t

When people respond to this (shitty, bad-faith) question by insisting "friends don't kiss! friends don't live together! friends don't co-raise kids!" they are just flatly Wrong. And it's a really weak argument because of that, because people will just say 'yeah we literally do, a qpp is a normal friendship, qed' and that's. Uh. Based on what's been said that's kind of a reasonable conclusion? because those things are all normal friendship things for a lot of adults.

there are many possible arguments for the term queerplatonic. it's about describing an emotional connection that isn't quite romantic. it's a way of clarifying that your intention is to commit to spending your life with someone. it's a way to define the expectations you have of your relationship. but ultimately it's not your job to justify this to anyone. many people (me included) might not understand exactly what a qpp means to you, but that doesn't mean we have any right to go 'that's meaningless' or talk it down if it isn't hurting anyone

but like. these specific types of defences of qpps (the "qpps are Important Vital Relationships and friends are just People You Don't Mind Spending Time With" attitude) are harmful, both to people not in qpps and to people in qpps

Exceptionalising the idea of having friends you love like family, who are the most important people in your life, who you might choose to live with or share your life with or be the person you'd trust with your children/your wellbeing/your health? That's dangerous!

and it takes us no closer to adequately valuing close friendships to say "close friendships are what QPPs are and they're a direct replacement for romantic/sexual partnerships". we can have both, and we should feel able have both. not necessarily both a qpp and a relationship, but both a life partner (sexual/romantic/queerplatonic) and other friends who are intimate parts of our lives and families. That's such a profoundly vital part of being queer particularly but also just of being, and it stresses me that people think that's a Special Kind of Relationship not a normal close friendship.

[bloededhoine]

I’ve been seeing your other Eskel headcanons and I’m??? In love?? You characterize him very accurately. So ★ ☾ ☼☠️ please and thanks

aaahhhh that is seriously the best compliment! sorry this took a while :/

★ - sad headcanon

☾ - sleep headcanon

☼ - appearance headcanon

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

list

sad headcanon

eskel is definitely not the most emotionally mature man on the continent, but he is a lot better than his brothers

when he's sad or in grief, he usually tries to process it

key word being tries, he doesn't always succeed.

on the outside, this looks like him withdrawing from the world and shutting down. he's really just existing in his own mind to try and unpack the emotions he never really let himself feel when he was younger

unfortunately, this makes him a pretty bad resource for his brothers, especially if it's something that affected all three of them

it's not that he doesn't want to help them, he does, he just can't until he's sorted out his own grief first

for all his own emotional capacity, he's not very good at dealing with the emotions of others

he won't make a joke to try and break the tension like lambert, but he struggles to talk it out as well

his main strategy is just being there and making sure that whoever is in pain knows they have him to count on

one of deidre's wolves had a baby that was killed by a harpy, and she was absolutely destroyed for days. eskel was deeply uncomfortable, he didn't really know what to do with a crying teenager, much less if that teenager is someone as unattached as deidre.

so, he carved a little wolf paw on a rock and buried the body under it. it was clear that deidre and geralt and lambert and vesemir all thought the funeral was a bit juvenile, or rather wanted eskel to think they thought the funeral was juvenile.

there definitely wasn't enough smoke for all of their eyes to be watering.

however, eskel does kind of think of grief as having a clock

if he is still sad for more than a week, he'll just push the emotions away because life must go on.

of course, if he knew anyone else had that idea he'd want to sit them down and get them to talk it through, even if in his own awkward way.

sleep headcanon

the path requires eskel to wake up alert and ready, which he can do, he just doesn't want to

but when he's at kaer morhen, he easily sleeps more than any of his brothers

lambert wakes up the latest, but that's because he has the sleep schedule of a two month old baby

eskel cannot sleep without a set schedule

asleep at 11 and awake at 6 or he will not get any rest at all

geralt and lambert thinks it's weird

vesemir thinks it's an example for the other two hooligans to follow

he doesn't dream much

has one recurring dream where he can fly, but he can't go more than a metre off the ground and needs to stay horizontal

snores

loudly

lambert hates it. he's tried to smother eskel with his pillow a few times

like basically all witchers, eskel sleeps Hot

but, he always keeps a fire on in his room at kaer morhen

he might have a super high metabolism, but lil bleater doesn't and she shouldn't need to shiver damniit!

and don't dare tell him to just let the goat sleep outside

he will sweat and be so uncomfortable but thinking about lil bleater being lonely... way worse

so,,, he sometimes sleeps nakey

once lambert came in eskel's room without knocking and was "scarred for fucking life you disgusting pervert! what the fuck is wrong with just putting on some pants?!! it's not like you even have anything to show off! what the fuck is wrong with this fucking castle?!"

appearance headcanon

as a surprise to literally no one, eskel is very conscious of his appearance

he hates drawing attention to himself and usually wears the plainest clothes possible

he even tries not to show emotion in public

it gets to the point where he hates going out with his brothers, cause if anyone's going to cause a drunken scene... it's definitely lambert

even before he had his scar, he tried to avoid being the centre of attention. it's just not his style.

the thing about eskel's scar is not that he feels it "ruined" his looks, but that it made him noticeable.

eskel is, however, quite proud of his hair

he took care of a foglet problem near maribor, but the woman who hired him didn't have the money to pay. she did, however, give him a special blend of rosemary, bear fat, and tea tree that makes his hair "luscious as a lion's mane!", according to dandelion.

lambert can mock, but eskel's hair is very soft and healthy for a witcher

of his brothers, he is definitely the most fashion-forward

of course, the bar is literally a line of tape on the floor

but still

geralt owns like three items of clothing that he refuses to replace and lambert just buys whatever's cheapest or will piss vesemir off the most

eskel knows the colour scheme that works for him (dark reds) and works it pretty well

he HATES dressing nice

possibly even more than geralt, who just thinks parties are boring and fancy doublets are uncomfortable

whenever eskel goes anywhere fancy, he feels that he sticks out like a sore thumb

which isn't inaccurate

the idea of countless people looking at him and noticing him is literal torture

angry/violent headcanon

eskel is fairly level headed, and even when he's angry he is very very hesitant to act on it

initially, he just didn't want to stir up any shit with his brothers. if he got mad at geralt and smacked him in the head, vesemir would beat both their asses.

it kind of turned into a fear of unconsciously hurting someone after ciri and deidre came to kaer morhen

especially with deidre, who was so used to receiving violence as a reaction to nearly everything she did

one time she accidentally spilled some hot tea on eskel's arm, as soon as he raised his voice to tell her to get a towel she immediately prepared for an attack

he felt awful

after that, he never yelled around deidre again. not when he got his scar, not when her wolves ate his favourite food, not even when he was just mad at geralt and lambert

if eskel needed to scream at his brothers, deidre shouldn't need to hear it

surprisingly, the two idiots were actually really good at honouring that rule

it also made eskel a lot better prepared when ciri came

he knows he's intimidating, and understands how that could come across to a 12 year old who just saw her family murdered

but...

if there is a time and place for violence, eskel will not hold back

that time and place is almost always when someone threatens his family

he gets a bit scared that he will lose himself in his rage and end up accidentally causing more problems than he solved

however, this pales in comparison to the fear of one of his loved ones being hurt because he couldn't protect them

ok i'm making myself sad

[jinxvrse]

SALT CIRCLES

— in which the jinx dorm has a little infestation problem

characters / the jinx ensemble, han seoyeon

words / 4.1k

warnings / none — if i missed any please let me know!

“My friend is coming over soon, she knows what to do.” Yue had finally put her phone down for perhaps the first time in the last thirty five minutes.

“How odd,” Blue commented, Yue pretended not to hear it.

“So before whoever that is comes over can we go over what exactly is happening again because I’m having some trouble really understanding this whole thing.” Jiyoon’s anger was visible in her voice, fists bunched with a face nearly a redder shade than her ginger hair.

Rosie just swallowed the heavy lump in her throat, mostly scared that that thing was going to appear over her head again and swipe her into whatever land it came from.

“Isn’t it simple? Roro summoned a demon and now our lives could possibly be endangered.” Miran’s smile told Rosie everything she needed to know about her thoughts on the situation, her happy-go-lucky tone was the bigger tell despite her grim words.

Miran was most certainly excited about the prospect of something supernatural going on in their dorm, no matter how dangerous the idea of it was. She was always a fanatic for this type of stuff so it was no surprise to Rosie or any of the others that she couldn’t care less about the ‘could possibly kill us all’ aspect of this.

“It's actually not that simple but I don’t know the acute details of what Rosie did.” Yue spoke up, her voice still as monotone as ever.

“Oh and how do you know so much about all this freaky stuff? In fact it was your ‘thing’ she was using to get it to come here in the first place.” Jiyoon was surely irritated but back talking to Yue was something many people were too afraid to do.

The other girls bit their cheeks upon the interaction, the atmosphere of the room proving far too tense for the five of them. They watched in anticipation for Yue’s next moves, wondering if she’d stay calm this time or match Jiyoon’s anger, maybe more.

“Don’t misplace your anger with me, Kim Jiyoon.” Yue’s voice never changed, although anyone could note the venom sitting behind her words. “Believe me, I know a lot more than you do and you should just trust me and my friend on this one.”

The room eased a little without the threat of a potential fight happening right there in their living room but the situation at hand was far too distracting for them to completely calm down. With Blue curled up in a corner, Rosie and Miran attached to each other by the hip and Yue and Jiyoon standing far from each other in different corners of their room a painfully long silence would be overtaking the group before the mystery friend would come and deal with the issue.

It would be another thirty five minutes before Yue’s friend buzzed into their apartment. Each girl was eager to see who this person was, sitting on the very edge of their seats to see who would walk through the door. However, it was their surprise when a woman roughly the same age as them appeared behind Yue and not some wizened old crone who knew years of ‘demonology’ there to fight the demon away.

“This is Han Seoyeon,” Yue nearly shoved the girl inside the apartment, “and she is going to solve all our problems.” The rest of them greeted her with awkward and unenthusiastic waves.

Seoyeon had bright red hair, almost redder than the t-shirt Rosie had on. Both her arms were decorated with tattoos, some in colour and some just linework, but she was illustrated like a high school desk with drawings of crystals and flowers. One tattoo stood out the most to Rosie, a detailed bright purple amethyst drawn on Seoyeon’s left arm, just looking at it calmed her down almost to a point where she worried no more about the imminent threat living under her bed.

“What does Seoyeon do?” Blue put on a smile for the girl, trying her best not to appear antsy for their house guest.

Seoyeon returned Blue’s smile with one of her own, her pearly white teeth grinning back at the girl. “Officially I’m a bartender at a place in Hongdae, unofficially I’m a witch.”

Jiyoon let out a pained laugh, clamping her hand to her mouth out of feigned politeness. “I’m sorry, you want me to believe that witches are real?”

“And you’ll believe a spirit’s living in your house? I’m used to skeptics but it’s especially funny coming from someone who appears to be haunted from the energy I’m feeling here.” Seoyeon’s smile never faltered, there was a specific confidence that she emanated and it definitely inspired Rosie in ways she never thought she could feel.

“What? Do you need to see it in action to believe it?” Seoyeon found a seat at one of the dining table chairs, taking it as though it were her throne with her legs crossed and a hand coming to lean against her chin.

“You, Jiyoon, are feeling anxious above all but you’re hiding it behind anger because what if this thing really does kill you and you can’t protect Yoonsung and Jiah, your little siblings, right?” A smirk painted her pretty face when she saw Jiyoon contort in confusion.

“H-How do you know their names?” Jiyoon could barely utter out her sentence, this was probably the first time any of them had seen her lost for words in years.

“I’m a psychic, not a powerful one but I can find out a few things about someone if I focus hard enough.” The redhead tapped at her forehead, signalling a third eye. Rosie might actually believe one would appear in a matter of seconds but her forehead remained eye-free.

Miran let out a light giggle at seeing Jiyoon so dumbstruck, immediately pulling herself together with a serious expression once she caught Jiyoon staring her down.

“Now will you let me do my job?” Seoyeon stood up again, her head held high and her eyes scanning the room around her.

The girls had no qualms about anything she had to say anymore, they had just about seen and heard everything they needed to believe they were in this predicament and there was no reason to not let her carry out her investigation. Despite this they were still seemingly surprised when they watched as Seoyeon started to do her thing.

Little tendrils of pink and green fluttered through Seoyeon’s fingers, the distinct smell of burnt sugar surrounding the girls and filling up the room. The feeling was light on her palms, like fire without the heat, ticklish against the smooth skin. She watched as the girls’ eyes followed the magic jumping from her fingerprints.

Her fingers ran through the walls of the dorm living room, tattoos and veins glowing the same bright pink and green colour, each line fading and reappearing with her heartbeat as she walked. It left Rosie in awe, she never thought magic could really be real, not until seeing everything she had witnessed in the last twenty four hours.

She glanced over to look at her other members, their faces not nearly as shocked as her own. She could get behind Miran not being entirely surprised, seeing as she was always a believer and lived in her own little land, but the other two were more grounded in real life than they were. Rosie remembered how skeptical Jiyoon was of her story when she told her earlier that night or how Blue laughed thinking it was a joke. Maybe Yue’s insistence finally made them believe her but would they have done so without the older girl’s slightly threatening presence?

“The good news is it’s not a malevolent spirit, just a tricky one.” All the girls sighed in relief upon hearing Seoyeon’s words.

“What’s the bad?” Blue questioned, hands massaging her temples like this was all some bad dream.

Seoyeon exhaled deeply, there’s no way things could possibly get worse for them, right? “It’s not leaving for a while, it’s screaming at me that it loves this place too much.”

“So we just have to deal with a literal demon living with us?” Jiyoon groaned, barely hiding her annoyance from the other girls.

Blue simply laughed, the exhaustion was getting to her. Anyone could see so with her dark circles and slouched stance, after all she had been up for so many hours doing this and that around the dorm in an attempt to fix the problem herself. Seeing how her laughter continued on creepily in the background maybe she was going hysterical with everything going on.

“There are ways to force the spirit back to wherever it came from but I am definitely not powerful enough to do that, many aren’t.” Seoyeon casts her eyes over to Yue, lazily staring at her for a second before diverting her gaze elsewhere.

“I am so going to have to move out.” Jiyoon mumbled, the disbelief settling behind her eyes.

“Well for the time being why don’t you just give ‘em a name, treat it like a nice lodger and it’ll leave eventually.” She seemed so nonchalant as she talked, like this was an everyday occurrence in Seoul or whatever witch land she came from.

“That’s all I can do for you but before I go I have to ask, how exactly did you bring this spirit here?”

Everyone’s eyes fell on Rosie, the stares causing her to recoil back into her seat on the sofa. Their stares spoke a thousand words to Rosie and it only made her feel more reluctant to actually say anything, she’d much rather run back to the safety of her bed and pretend this was one hell of a dream.

“I saw this one video on TikTok that said if you’re lonely summon this spirit to be your friend for a couple hours,” Rosie hung her head low as she spoke, avoiding the likely judgemental stares from her group mates. “It was stupid I know and I didn’t even believe it would work but...I had to try it.”

She raised her head slightly, catching a glimpse of Seoyeon with a hand to her chest, a warm smile on her face. She wasn’t outright stating it but Rosie could feel her sympathy radiating off of her like sunbeams, she’s glad Yue called her over because at least someone in that house would try to understand why she would do something like that.

“I found a bunch of witchy stuff in Yue’s room and got to work.” She shot a apologetic glance in the Chinese girl’s direction, “if you want the details, I was using this diamond necklace of mine as a pendulum to communicate with the spirit and I must’ve let it into the house as we talked because the diamond was swinging all on it’s own like crazy.”

Rosie recalled the memories of last night, she was the only one in the dorms, the other four all doing things that didn’t seem to involve her. It was the third time that week, she was just tired of being left out and the feeling of loneliness had been boiling in her blood for far too long.

Jiyoon already had a best friend and the last time they’d had a genuine conversation outside of the practice room must have been months ago. Yue and Miran had become awfully close in the last few months, often leaving the others out of their shared world, and Blue had been out doing god knows what with someone she was never going to text back. Heck, even her own brother was barely responding to her texts, probably off somewhere getting high and pretending she didn’t know about his problem.

There was no need to wiggle her way into places she wasn’t wanted so she decided she'd find someone else to talk to, despite how extreme the solution she came to must’ve seemed to others.

Even if the spell hadn’t worked, there would have always been that thought settling in the back of her mind hoping that it did so that maybe she wouldn’t have to deal with knowing the fact that no one wanted her. A fact that had become as clear as day when she watched each of her members frown in disappointment at what she’d done when they had finally come home to a teary-eyed Rosie, an oddly humanoid shadow standing behind her to confirm her story.

“Well who hasn’t accidentally summoned a spirit in their youth?” Rosie hadn’t realised a silence had formed since her last words until Seoyeon cleared her throat, the lopsided smile still on her face. “Next time I’d recommend you use salt circles, it’ll protect you a little better.”

Yue rubbed her eyes, chuckling softly at Seoyeon’s joke. She flashed a smile at her friend before retiring to her room, the rest of the girls could chat with her or show her out because, quite frankly, she was tired and just wanted to go to bed.

Closing the door behind her, Yue sighed at finally being alone, flopping onto her bed and closing her eyes. Images of Seoyeon’s magic raced through her mind, the sight of the pink and green was oddly addicting, pulling Yue up from the bed and staring into her hands in front of her.

Each vein began to run an icy blue, backlit behind her pale skin. Tiny translucent wisps prickled all around her body, congregating within her palms like an ice that burned through her veins, taking over her entire body in a wave of cold fire.

She winced upon the feeling, not because it hurt, it was more of a tension within her hands, made her eyes itch, that was all. No, the problem was that she liked it, all of it, the feeling of power in her hands, like she could do anything. She could do anything but that’s what got her here in the first place, running to Seoyeon for help because she wanted to hide all of it.

Even though she promised herself she wouldn’t practice anymore, she was always a little bit curious as to how much magic she could gather all on her own. Yue was admittedly a little rusty, mostly due to the blockage that had built up within herself from the years she had abstained from all of this. It took her several minutes to get the candles to burst aflame but it made her feel...something, something that excited her just a little bit too much.

She stared into the flame of the candle closest to her, it flickered violently with just her gaze, the red wax dripping fast into the plate it stood on.

The minute she heard the click of her bedroom door opening she turned around, the candles had blown out immediately with the whip of her head. Darkness cloaked the room again leaving Yue and her visitor alone with just the sliver of light from the window to illuminate them.

She identified the other as Seoyeon from the shine of her red hair, “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Smells like pine in here.” The witch simply chuckled, crossing her arms and leaning the door closed with her back. Yue’s grateful it was her, god knows what she would’ve done if any of her group members had come in instead. Seoyeon’s intuition probably caught her practicing through the walls, she’s smart enough to see through them after all, her eye was always working overtime when they were kids.

“You know you could’ve done that in seconds, no need to call me over here in the middle of the night.” Yue rolled her eyes, it was just like Seoyeon to bring that up. It had been a long time since they’d interacted like this and she was still doubtful as ever to her own power.

“You know why I don’t do that anymore.” Yue responded through gritted teeth, “and besides, you did do that in seconds, you’ve grown a lot since I last saw you.”

“Seokyung’s better than me, but you were always the best out of all of us.” Seoyeon walked over to Miran’s bed, sat right at the edge facing Yue. “It’s clear Jiyoon wants the spirit out, Blue too.” She chuckled, “I don’t think the other two really want that though.”

There was a beat of silence following Seoyeon’s words, neither of them really wanting to address the rather big elephant in the room at that very moment.

“You could help them, Yue, you know that.” Seoyeon spoke in Mandarin, her accent still the same as when they were kids, hearing it warmed her heart.

Yue didn’t respond, her lips pressed into a thin line and her eyes boring into the witch’s. If she wasn’t going to say anything then Seoyeon was simply going to have to press harder.

“Listen, I know what happened was bad but you can relieve your group mates of the thing that’s stressing them out, not me, not anyone else, you.” The smell of burnt sugar began to fall into the room once again, combating the fresh pine of Yue’s magic. “There’s a full moon in two days, you gotta do what you do best!”

Seoyeon knows she can’t force Yue into doing anything, being her friend for over a decade told her that, but she can at least get her to try. Maybe if she could get Yue to open herself up to her own abilities, they could repair what was left of their fragmented friendship.

Yue’s eyes never left Seoyeon, she wanted to believe her, she really did. However, all she could remember was the flames, the haunting memory of the heat coming into dangerously close contact with her as they spread. The thick, black smoke circling the house, the deafening cries of her friend, the silent tears that fell as she watched it all burn.

“Stop, Seoyeon. I just can’t! Is that not enough for you?” Yue cried out, her voice just a decibel below a scream anyone could’ve heard.

Seoyeon knows she’s struck a chord in Yue, hanging her head low. She remembers the fire too. She remembers her heart dropping to her stomach when she saw Yue standing outside in shock, the sickening feeling of relief when she caught her father dragging her mother and sister out of the pile of ash that she called her home.

They tried to move past it, all those years they’d spent with each other far away from Luoyang. Seoyeon knows she’s moved on but maybe Yue hadn’t, that’s why she refused to even talk about what happened since they had left, why Seoyeon could feel that the other hadn’t practiced in so long.

It made her mad, if she could get over losing her home, her family, over something she didn’t even do then Yue could at least try and fix her own problems without running to her and then throwing it back in her face. She threw a hand to the amethyst on her arm, pressing over the tattoo lightly to calm herself, however, it was no use as the anger seething through her caused her to speak without thinking.

“And you call yourself a witch.” She muttered under her breath.

“I don’t!” The flames lit up again, burning dangerously high above their wicks, “Now shut up or get the fuck out of my house.”

Seoyeon waved off the younger girl’s anger, calming down the candles with the flick of her hand. She walked over to the bedroom door but before she would leave she turned to face Yue again, her bright red hair shining around her like a halo.

“You can’t fool me Yue, I’m a damn psychic.” Was all she said before leaving the room, leaving the door irritatingly ajar.

The dancer heard Seoyeon’s goodbyes to the girls through the door, a guttural sigh leaving her mouth when she heard the front done close. She got up from her seat on her bed, feeling all her bones crack upon the stretch, but as she walked towards the door she caught something upon the handle.

Staring back at her was a burned in sigil carved in the wood, each line a very familiar mark that had been seared into her brain from the moment she could see. It was for protection, something to ensure nothing bad could enter the room, Seoyeon must have etched it there on purpose.

“Typical.” She muttered, eyes trained to the mark on the door. She hadn’t seen or made one of those in years, all in hopes that her supernatural past wouldn’t follow her into her new life. Yue supposed she should thank Seoyeon for thinking about her even when she was yelling at her to leave.

“Hey, are you okay? You seemed off earlier.” Yue’s eyes broke contact with the door upon Miran’s sudden entrance, a small smile painted on the girl’s face.

She cleared her throat, grumbling a bit in an attempt to clear her mind of the negative energy surrounding it. She walks back to her bed and pats at the spot beside her, inviting Miran to join her on the blanket.

“I’m okay, just stressed. Y’know, idol shit.” Her laugh is uneasy but Miran’s presence is hardly threatening to her.

Miran frowned, clearly unhappy with the answer as she shuffled closer to her roommate, head resting on the older girl’s shoulder.

Yue noticed how quick she often was to figure out something’s wrong. Maybe it was because they had become inseparable in the last few months that Miran was always able to sniff out sad feelings, or maybe she was an empath that had snuck her way into her life on purpose. Yue goes back and forth on her theories when it comes to this stuff but there’s one thing she knows for sure and it’s that Miran would always be there.

“Just bad memories resurfacing is all, nothing to worry about.” She threw a smile Miran’s way and rested her head against the pillow, the other girl joining and curling up to her in a tiny ball on the bed.

“You can talk to me you know, I might not be able to solve all of it but I can help you speak through it and that might help.” Miran looked up at Yue, eyes wide and full of sincerity.

She knows Miran only wants what’s best for her, she’d never have offered if she didn’t. Still, there’s a stain on her heart that stops her from being fully honest with her, there were far too many things Yue hadn’t fully accepted for her to even begin to think about telling anybody else about them.

“Is this about Seoyeon and the demon? Is there something I should know? I won’t judge you if there is, it’s just that there’s obviously something happening and you seem to have way more answers then you’re letting on to and I’d hate for this to get between us as a group.”

Miran would not stop talking, her words were barely permeating through Yue’s brain as she gazed off into the distance behind her. She’s sure she’s seeing things when she spots the shadowed form on Seokyung on Miran’s bed, just to be sure she blinked and shook her head but when she opened her eyes again she’s still there, staring back at her.

Yue tried to shake off the visions, pinning it to her sleep deprivation but the sight of her former friend haunts her, leaving a sick taste in her mouth. She tried listening to Miran to distract her but it was no use as the image of Seokyung began to burn, flames lighting up the bedroom, flickering around her skin and burning away her features.

“Just shut up, Miran!” Her eyes widened once she had been brought back to reality, the flames withering away as she realised what she had just said to the younger girl.

Miran stayed silent, swallowing the lump forming in her throat and pushing back the slowly growing feelings of regret. The sight of her looking so hurt made Yue want to crawl into a corner and die, like she’d just wounded a puppy.

“Shit, Miran I’m sorry, I just need a moment alone.” She didn’t want to hurt her best friend anymore but just looking at her made her insides freeze up, “please?”

She didn’t say anything, instead removing her arms from Yue and walking out of the room. Once she heard the door click shut Yue slapped her face into her hands, trying her best to erase every bad memory from the last twenty four hours. Seokyung’s appearance had to be the spirit playing it’s tricks on her, what else could it have been?

Fuck, this demon was going to be way harder to live with then she thought it would be.

[ayellowcurtain]

Would you mind giving a description of the type of character sander is pls? I can't get a handle on him. At times he was inconsistent in s3(this is partially bc of the writing and partially) bc he was trying to conceal parts of himself from Robbe and exaggerating his personality to impress Robbe. The source material was a huge crutch in parts of this storytelling, then sobbe lost some spark in parts of wtfockdown, fanon help fill the empty spaces and now the transmedia is evolving him too. Help?

I’m gonna try to help you, anon but I guess what I’m gonna say is basically my opinion and so it might differ from what’s canon or what other people think of him and also gonna link you to some prior posts I already made talking a little bit of him: 

- Sander’s similarities with Eliott about how sometimes they struggle to deal with emotions 

- Sander and his parents, his home life and his relationship with them 

- Why was Sander going back and forth with Britt 

Now onto your real answer: 

I think Sander, as a character, is a solid one. He as a human being in some universe is imperfect, has his flaws and maybe his bad judgment at times, of situations and of people. 

Is not because he’s a fictional character that he needs to be perfect, to always say and do the right thing. 

If WTFock did him (and Robbe) dirty was mainly because of their complete lack of understanding of what pacing is. I don’t think season 3 was that badly written. It does has some horrible pacing at times, yes (OHN being on a Monday can only be a joke!!!!). 

I don’t think he was purposefully exaggerating his personality. I’m sure the Sander we now know isn’t exactly as loud and out there as we saw during the supermarket clip, for example. But he was freaking out, and being obnoxious without meaning to.

To me, it felt like was mostly freaking out, not sure what to do with himself because the boy he saw once during a random night was there, all alone with him, accepting to go out to go grocery shopping. 

That’s just an example but it’s the same behavior I see when he says they won after he shot Britt during the paintball scene, when he sings Bowie to Robbe while they see the girls walking away after the Noor x Robbe fight, or when he goes to Robbe’s place the next day and tries to kiss him. All this moments, to me, feel like a boy that doesn’t know what to do with himself, how to behave when he’s around someone he’s falling so deeply and hard for. 

We often see the Evens as these cool creatures, confident, sweet, chill. But we have to remember that’s just the first impression (and from their Isaks’ POV), and after they get to know each other, the Evens are often shy, insecure, kind of lone wolves to some degree. 

So what I thought could be seen as “inconsistent” of Sander was just him probably freaking out he was spending time with Robbe, the boy that the moon was shining on him and that Sander knew was the one. 

That’s why I assume putting “original” characters after two seasons feels a little bit like crutches (with their background stories) because if you think about it, we always know most of the characters in Skam since season 1, so even when they’re not main characters, we got to know them in the background at least, to get some information throughout the other seasons. 

We feel more connected to Robbe (and every Isak), and his background story because we’ve been hearing about it for two seasons. 

We know he has a messy house situation, we know his relationship with Jens is kinda platonic but also very brother like (with slaps, saying rude things to each other, etc), we know some people think he’s gay, we know he’s a caring friend because of the way he was with Jana during her season. All this information we got before his season. So when he was main, there was no need to build background around him because we already had most of these informations before. 

Sander is a complete stranger to us. And WTFock even gave us two episodes of just Robbe, to get to know him even more but also leaving less time for us to connect with Sander. So what we got of him was mostly WITH Robbe and ABOUT his feelings for Robbe. We know where he studies because Noor told this in ONE line.

The fandom often falls deeply in love with Even because of what we see through their lovers eyes and for how soft, caring, and representative he is (with being bipolar and pan) but I feel like we get more of who he is and his background in Sana’s season. We learn more about his past, his friends, his MI, his beliefs or curiosity about faith, etc. 

Even if we barely see him with the balloon squad, watching them we see the type of people Even (or Sander) would like to be surrounded with. 

I know people are not the biggest fans of Sobbe during WTFockdown, but I said this before, and I’ll say it again: I think I love them even more after. Even the cybersex part because I thought it was cute, the way Sander was saying he shouldn’t have pushed Robbe into doing it the past week, or how they look at each other and the things they say and how clearly they’re still trying to find the middle ground both of them are willing to experiment with. 

Anyway, I thought it was cute, and I thought it was necessary, with the conversations about the attack (WTFock made a horrible writing decision not letting this happen during the season, but at least they gave us something), about Robbe’s traumas that are still very much alive, about his mom and how well she’s doing most of the time, how Robbe is still trying to help her in any way he can. And also about boundaries, about Robbe, that same boy that was calling Sander the F word is now so out and proud, asking Milan about cybersex, talking to his friends about it (because he did tell the boys what they did or Aaron wouldn’t be trying to have cybersex with Amber and the boys wouldn’t be taking their clothes off for Sander’s bday). 

I think WTFock would use Sobbe for as much content as they can because they know that’s their golden couple. The Willems have a unique chemistry that’s out of this world, they’re both amazing actors and WTFock knows they’re solid, that the fandom will watch, engage in whatever these characters are involved in and that they boys will deliver every time, no matter how odd the circumstances are. The WTFock team knows they can give these boys a few lines and let they create a scene out of it and it’ll still be good content.  

After this long ass post I’ll have to tell you that Sander is:

Mostly private, reserved, some would say shy but I think he just saves himself the energy and the trouble so he only really engages with who he really wants. In this case, Robbe, and the people that are important to Robbe because, again, Robbe is the most important person. I really think (and hope) that when Sander keeps saying “it’s you and me, always”, he really means it. Like they’re one, a solid team that works so well together to tackle any and everything. 

A natural flirt. I mean, look at him, you know? And he doesn’t even have to try. And when he tries, it’s over for anyone else because he’ll be eating a marshmallow in that way he did with Britt, he’ll be kissing his girl like he wishes he could be kissing Robbe, he’ll be licking your ear, and dragging you out of a bar, purring please say at yours like no fucking other. 

He’s a full on artist. He loves any type of art, he loves talking about art, he loves doing art, painting, drawing, taking pictures, listening to music, thinking about all the intense colors. I’m sure he’s a very visual person in his brain too. If you ask him about how he’s feeling, it’ll be probably easier to draw what he fells than write. 

Again, nobody likes talking about this but Sander is a horny one. And he knows how to tease with the stepping back before Robbe can kiss him, he knows what to say, how to look at you with those shiny lips, wetting his lips with his tongue all the time, asking to have cybersex. And I’m also sure he’s really good at sex and enjoys it so very much. 

When you’re not Robbe, and when you’re not involved with Robbe, when Robbe doesn’t care about you, Sander can be hard like a brick. He’ll scream at you with no shame if you get under his skin because he really doesn’t care. He’s finally fully happy, with the guy he thinks is the one and he doesn’t want to spend a second of his energy with you so he won’t even try. 

I think he has a really small filter from what he thinks and what he says. Like when he says Robbe can bribe the teacher, or when firts with Robbe while Britt is taking a shower, or when he says they need to put some better music instead of making out with his boyfriend during the last episode. 

His “all the way or no way” line is basically words he lives by and he’s also a taurus, like myself, so he really means those words with any aspect of his life. 

He forgave Robbe so easily after the F word scene because 1) he’s a teenagers, he won’t be thinking as hard as the fandom did about it 2) again, it’s Robbe and he can get away with anything because Sander is completely gone for this boy that he won’t be able to stay mad even when he knows he should because he wants to be with Robbe, that’s it.

He and Robbe are very close, not only as boyfriends, I feel like right now, after everything that happened between Robbe and the boys and Sander with Britt (and probably the ballon squad) they’re very picky with trying to start new relationships, and they know they’re solid with each other, they have similar taste and opinions. Robbe softens Sander’s edges a little bit and Sander makes Robbe a little more confident in being himself, picking himself first. 

I hope this very long, ridiculous answer helps you a little bit, anon, don’t mind me getting carried away talking about characters I love :’D

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Once and Maybe Future Chapter 14: Incognito Patrol

When Nimue sees a girl with far too many hairclips and radiating dark magic, it's up to her and Douxie to save Arcadia.

Heyyy, yes I know it's been over six months since I last updated and this fic is now very much not canon compliant. At least this chapter is half the length of all the previous chapters combined.

Originally this was going to be a single chapter covering the events of both "Night Patroll"/"Terra Incognita II" as well as "So I'm Dating a Sorceress" and "The Exorcism of Claire Nuñez", but due to the length I decided to only have it cover the events of "Night Patroll"/"Terra Incognita II" in this chapter; another chapter is going to finally get around to the Clairegana-and-Douxie confrontation and not just the aftermath.

AO3

FFN

It was a normal day at the Zimue records store.

Which was to say, it was absolutely boring, but there were enough customers around that Nimue couldn’t practice magic… or even really do homework for her independent study courses, considering that her manager was here today.

The door opened and closed with a blast of warm late May air.

Nimue shivered and grabbed the counter as the flashback overtook her.

Nimue-the-first did not leave her lake often. She was busy enough with her forge, and she didn’t care much for most people, especially not in crowds. She frowned as she saw wagon tracks on the road; she was getting close to a village or at least a farm. She preferred for her adopted son and his family to visit her rather than the other way around. They may be royalty, but she was a sorceress and far older. They could show her some respect.

Instead, she’d be paying her last respects to her son and her daughter-in-law.

There was a war outside her lake, and there was dark magic fueling it beyond what the Gumm-Gumms could normally use. It had been a long time since she had last seen Uther’s stepdaughter or her green-eyed gaze, but Nimue-the-first knew that Morgana had corrupted herself and was fueling the war. That, or the war was fueling Morgana; Nimue-the-first could feel it in her bones.

Nimue’s bones ached as she was released from the flashback to her first lifetime. She glanced around, trying to figure out just what had caused the flashback this time. However, there was nothing new in Zimue, nothing that would’ve set her off, and definitely not anything that would’ve caused her to flash back that far. Nimue inhaled deeply, trying to see if maybe Douxie was cooking something up next door, potion or otherwise. That had set her off once. She had been tempted to tell him then and there the truth about why she had magical powers, but she had stopped herself. Wizards were normal. Relatively rare compared to most of humanity, but normal.

Reincarnation, as far as she knew, was not. Heck, every legend about King Arthur returning was propaganda, so it wasn’t like he’d reincarnate, much less anyone else from her first lifetime.

It was kind of lonely, walking around with so many memories of bygone eras, but it had been Nimue’s life since she was twelve. Besides, the magic was more than enough to make up for it.

Then again, Douxie would never practice dark magic, and even if he wanted to surely Archie would stop him. She squeezed her eyes as she manned the register. She felt worse with every customer, though it was possible that she just was getting a headache and mistaking it for dark magic. Dehydration, maybe, as ironic as it was.

A girl stepped to the front of the line, holding the new Papa Skull album. She had a white streak running through her dark hair, with multiple colored hairclips and a matching Papa Skull shirt. She looked a little sick, a little sleep deprived, a little younger than Nimue.

Nimue gulped as the girl placed the album on the counter. The girl smiled shyly before coughing into her elbow, loud and shaking.

Magic radiated off the girl as Nimue rung up the album. It was old, and it was dark.

Perhaps being the only one with magic and memories from bygone eras would have been for the best, as lonely as it was.

The girl walked out, taking most of the dark magic with her. There were some traces of it lying in the air like a miasma.

Nimue quickly swiped her hand over her pocket to make sure her phone was there. She’d ask her manager to let her take a break, text Douxie, and the two of them would go after the girl with the dark magic. Hopefully she was just some kid with latent talent who found a dark magical spell on the internet.

“I’m taking my lunch break,” her manager told her right before she could open her mouth. “Make sure we don’t get robbed.”

Nimue made sure her back was turned to her manager before she grimaced and hoped that she had enough hay fever that it was distorting the amount of dark magic she was sensing.

“Nimue, calm down and talk a little more slowly,” he said. They were both on break, her from her day job and him from band practice with Ash Dispersal pattern. Specifically, Hank and Raoul were off to grab burgers for their lunch.

Nimue took a deep breath. “Look, this girl came into Zimue and there was something bad about her. Like, I could feel the dark magic coming off her in waves.”

Douxie decided not to ask her just how she knew it was dark magic, though he did wonder. For someone who had had no training outside of spell books on the internet and his father’s attempted tutelage of the two of them, she progressed remarkably fast. Douxie hoped that Nimue wouldn’t be able to sense years-old dark magic. “Okay, do you want me to fake being sick and go after her?”

“Uh… she left the shop an hour ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Douxie was secretly glad. Nimue’s reaction to dark magic users scared him.

“Because my manager already doesn’t like me and this was the soonest I could go on break… it could be hay fever, but I made sure to take my allergy meds and I don’t think it is.”

“Okay, okay, well, what does this girl look like?”

“Uh… brown or black hair with a white streak, green, wait, no, brown eyes…” That certainly didn’t narrow down the field that well, but it did help affirm the fact that there was something about the girl Nimue had seen that had her spooked. “Oh, yeah, she was wearing a Papa Skull shirt, and hairclips? Uh, like, two, no, three, no, there might’ve been more… it’d be easier if I could show you.”

“Nimue, we both know that the extent of your drawing abilities are runes and stick figures.”

“No, not a drawing, there’s surveillance video in the store, and she came straight up to the register.”

“Isn’t that illegal? Somehow? We don’t need the law coming in and messing things up somehow.”

“I mean, technically the improvements on your pipes might also be illegal since you didn’t tell your landlord about them and they’re also giving you extra water.”

Douxie grimaced; he still wasn’t entirely sure if one day he’d have to deal with the magically enhanced water turning what was supposed to be his dinner into a potion of some sort.

Zimue closed at 7 PM every day, so at 9:30 PM Nimue snuck out of her house to break in. Her parents thought that she was sleeping after having prepared for finals she’d be taking. She wore a beanie and long sleeves to cover up her dyed hair and magically induced tattoo.

“Douxie, I thought I told you to do something that would make you less recognizable,” she said. He was wearing what he wore every day, except he didn’t roll up his sleeves.

He dramatically placed his hood over his head, and then awkwardly tucked his dyed bangs behind his ears. “Why’d you want the water bottle?” he asked, pulling one out of his pocket.

“For this,” Nimue said, sighing wistfully. She preferred shopping for clothes in the women’s section, but she missed having space in her pockets. She took the water bottle, uncapped it, and then upended it. As she handed the water bottle back to him, she made a swirling motion with her other hand.

Another good reason for wearing long sleeves: her tattoo was probably glowing right now.

A thick fog surrounded the two of them and the storefront.

“Oh. Cool,” Douxie said.

“Wish it could’ve been a smoke bomb instead of a steam bomb, but this is good enough, I guess,” Nimue said. “Besides, we don’t want to set off a smoke alarm.”

Douxie knelt next to the door, pulling out a pair of straightened paperclips. He inserted them into the lock, wiggling them around. His expression grew frustrated, and he closed his eyes. When he stood up once more, he held the lock with one of his hoodie sleeves.

“I thought you could pick locks,” Nimue said. “Well, without magic, anyways.”

“Last time I picked a lock I was in foster care, and before that…” Douxie stared off into the distance, a morose look on his face.

“Before that?”

Douxie blinked and put on an obviously fake smile. “Eh, tragic backstory stuff.”

“That joke stopped being funny halfway through ninth grade.” Nimue pushed past her friend and opened the door. Fog filtered in, covering the cameras. “Okay, so we keep the security footage over this way.”

Douxie closed the door behind him. “You know, I don’t even know if the magic shop has security cameras.”

“Good thing mystery dark magical girl came here, then.” Nimue pulled up the footage. “And good thing my boss showed me how to go through this in case we ever get shoplifted from or anything. Not that we probably will, ever. At least, if we do it’s probably gonna be on my day off. And, there!”

Douxie looked over her shoulder at the slightly grainy video, taking a photo of the girl. “She goes to our school. I saw her outside Mrs. Barros’s office last year. I think she’s a year younger than us?”

Nimue groaned, standing up and beginning to erase the evidence that she and Douxie had broken in. “If she’s a year younger than us, then she might be a member of that stupid pilot program where freshmen could graduate in a year and a half.”

“I can ask the guys; they might know since they still go to actual school.”

“Make sure you get a name; it might make it easier to go after her.”

“Hey, Nimue?” Douxie asked. She threw a glance over her shoulder as she locked up the store.

“Yeah?”

“What are you going to do to her, once we find her?”

“I don’t know exactly, but she’s got dark magic. She’s dangerous, and we’re the only non-dark wizards in Arcadia. We need to stop her.”

Douxie gave her the same sort of faraway, morose look that he did whenever he accidentally shared a detail about his childhood before foster care. Without a word, he turned away and walked to his apartment.

Nimue let the enchanted fog roll away and began to walk home. She tried not to think about Douxie’s question too much. Anyone who used dark magic had to be evil since they’d know better than to use it. They deserved what was coming to them.

“Hey, does this girl still go to our school?” Douxie asked, holding his phone out to the other members of Ash Dispersal Pattern.

“What, do you wanna ask her, wait, no, sorry, forgot you were gay,” Raoul said. Honestly, Douxie was still a little surprised that he had even had to come out to Raoul and the other guys last October. After all, Douxie trying out for Ash Dispersal Pattern had been him trying to confess his crush to Hank back in freshman year. Not that it mattered, anymore, since all the other guys in the band were straight and Douxie had moved on from his crush six months after the band had formed. “Uh, I don’t know?”

“Nimue saw her at the record store, fiddling with a ring, and she dropped it. Nimue found it after she’d left, and she wanted to try to find a way to give it back to the girl. I remembered seeing her outside of Mrs. Barros’s office last year, but I’ve got no idea about if she’s in the year-and-a-half program.”

Hank walked over and squinted at the photo. “She doesn’t go to our school; she transferred to mole high. She’s friends with my ex; the girl’s name’s Claire. Do you want me to go over?”

“Dude, Mary isn’t gonna get back together with you,” Dominic said.

“No, well, I have no idea about Hank’s ex. But no, I’ll go over,” Douxie said.

“Hand out the Battle of the Bands flyers when you get there, will ya?” Douxie took the stack of papers from Dominic. Good, now he actually had a reason to go there.

Multiple female students of Arcadia Oaks High swarmed Douxie, but not as many of them grabbed the flyers he was passing out. None of them were Claire, either. One of them mentioned the nickname that Nimue hated. Personally, Douxie wasn’t sure why it was such a problem; Hank had gone through a phase where he’d called everyone by their first initial, but there were two guys with a name starting with the letter “d” in the band and Dominic was significantly shorter than Douxie. Therefore, “Big D” and “Little D”.

A girl pushed through the crowd and tripped, dropping her books. Douxie knelt next to her helping her grab her books, and then he felt the waves of dark magic coming off of her. Something about them felt familiar, but how? Douxie placed a smile on his face.

“C-Bomb, is it? Consider me blown away, because you are nuclear.” If she knew that he was a wizard, then she would understand that this was a sign of respect. A sign that he recognized her power, but also a sign that he recognized the danger she radiated.

She smiled back but said nothing. Hmm. Maybe Nimue’s theory of Claire being an inexperienced wizard who accidentally cast a dark magic spell was possible, but that powerful without knowing how to sense for magic? That was strange. Perhaps she was goading him?

A boy in blue walked up to them, slinging his arm around Claire’s shoulder. “So, what brings you to our humble school?”

The boy placed a hand on Douxie’s chest, pushing Douxie away as Claire began to cough. That was nice of him. Something about the boy felt oddly familiar, and not just because Douxie remembered seeing him at Benoit’s multiple times. No, Douxie almost felt caught in a feedback loop, like he had sent his own magic outwards and then it got sent back at him. Almost. The magic that got sent back felt purer, less tainted. Innocent, and not yet marred by necromancy.

“The Battle of the Bands is coming up,” Douxie said as he handed a flyer to Claire. “Ash Dispersal Pattern – that’s my band – will be crushing this.” And maybe the hand motion Douxie made was a little too threatening, but there was something odd and Douxie felt like he had to do something to show a little of his strength. Not too much, but enough to make himself seem like he wasn’t a victim. “But, we’re encouraging others to give it a shot.”

Claire coughed again after congratulating Douxie on Ash Dispersal Pattern’s headline performance for Papa Skull last fall. Douxie couldn’t help but wonder if it were a regular cold, or if perhaps the illness were magical in nature. If so, maybe he, Nimue, and his father could find –

No. Douxie would have to help her on his own. Nimue and his father thought that dark magic users were evil and dangerous. They would probably advocate for letting Claire die if the illness caused by her own meddling in dark magic, or perhaps the two of them would grant “mercy” to Claire by killing her. They would probably do the same for Douxie if they ever found out the truth.

Two girls rushed over to Claire, exclaiming that they should be a cover band. Neither of them seemed to have anything magical going on, but Douxie was pretty sure one of them was Hank’s ex.

“I don’t know,” the boy said, pushing Douxie away once more. “We’re pretty busy with our after-school activities.”

Hmm. Were Claire and the boy perhaps trying to learn magic together, much like Douxie and Nimue were?

Claire took the flyer back from the boy and agreed with the girls about starting a band. Douxie glanced to his hands and quickly put them in his pockets. They were empty, and they were trembling. But why? Claire seemed powerful, but not necessarily threatening.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Fair Lady Claire,” Douxie said before walking away. Yes. Perfect. That was exactly the right amount of respect to show to a fellow wizard whose diplomatic position towards you was still unknown but was clearly dangerous due to her clearly dark but hidden power. It was good to know that, after a millennium and a half for everyone else and eight years for himself, his diplomatic training as a prince had finally paid off. If only his parents, Merlin, or Uncle Kay could have been alive and in the right mind to see him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. This whole morning was stupid. Nimue had been so stupid as to tempt fate. She glanced up from the tile she was trying to kill with her eyes when the door opened and closed, and her best friend walked into Zimue Records.

“Everything okay?” Douxie asked.

“We got fucking robbed,” Nimue said. “This wasn’t supposed to happen to me! If this was going to happen, why not on my day off?”

“Well, at least you have security cameras. Was anyone hurt?”

“No, though the shoplifters played dumb like they didn’t know what shoplifting was. Ugh. At least some cop got there so no permanent damage was caused and I didn’t even need security cameras. How’d flyers go?”

“Fine, I found Claire.”

“Okay, and?”

“And what?”

“And what have you done about her? Fireballs? Potions turned Molotov cocktails?”

“What? No! I’m not blowing up our rival school, and neither are you! No, I just got a feel for her, and I treated her with the proper amount of respect.”

“Proper?”

“Yes. Given that she’s powerful, I called her by the term Lady,” Douxie said as Nimue smacked her forehead. “What? There’s no need for her to immediately want to kill us for disrespect!”

“Douxie, this is why people think you’re straight.” She wrinkled her nose. “Please tell me you’re just being cheeky when you call me Lady Nimue and not trying to curry favor.”

“I’m being respectful to you because you’re my friend… but also sometimes it bugs you.”

Nimue rolled her eyes. “Okay, so what are we going to do about Claire? You have any ideas about how to fight a dark wizard?”

The door opened and closed, but no human walked in. “You two won’t be.”

“You told him?” Nimue said.

“No, but he should have,” Archie said. “You two are louder than you think.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” Douxie mumbled.

Archie raised an eyebrow at Douxie. “Between raising you,” he said before turning to Nimue, “and teaching you my fur has gotten plenty grayer without the two of you taking needless risks like tracking down a dark wizard.”

“But she could be hurting people! And we’re the only ones in Arcadia who could save the day! If we pull off some sort of sneak attack – “

“You won’t be,” Archie said. “If the two of you are to be fighting another wizard, which you won’t be, I expect you to fight with honor.”

“She’s a dark wizard. She’s evil.”

“Or she’s young and hasn’t had the training that you have. She might not know the difference between regular magic and dark magic. After all, did you know the difference when your powers first awoke?”

Nimue’s breath caught in her throat. Of course, she did; she knew so many things instinctually from her past lives.

“Or Claire’s desperate,” Douxie mumbled, breaking Nimue from her thoughts. Archie turned to him.

“That’s not an excuse to use dark magic, and it’s especially not an excuse I want to hear coming from your mouth – either of your mouths,” Archie said. “If this girl turns out to be a danger to others, or to be using dark magic while being fully aware of the consequences, then fine. I will guide the two of you in planning an attack. But I do not want either of you getting near this dark wizard without me. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Archie,” the two of them said in unison.

“Good. Now, how is studying for finals going?”

[hcllisfm]

HOLLIS OVERSEE, WALLFLOWER

❝ I became good at pretending. I became so good that after a while the lines blurred between my truth and fiction. And sometimes, when I did a really good job of pretending, I even fooled myself. ❞

playlist / pinterest

AESTHETICS 

Hollis is an avid makeup wearer. He is no beauty guru but you will always catch him wearing eyeliner and dark eyeshadow (bright colors and glitter are for special occasions only) Think of him as a chic Jack Sparrow. It looks smudged but it takes time to perfect that look. Back home there isn’t a lot of vegetation so Hollis enjoys incorporating flowers and nature into his designs and his personal style. He can be seen wearing bright colors, though his fashion sense is not as costume-y as what the Capitol is used to he does tend to dress in a way that gets people to look at him. Skirts, dresses, jumpsuits, he doesn’t care as long as the clothes are telling a story.

He keeps his curly hair long and has a beard he tends to decorate if the outfit calls for it. REF

influences: Prince, Harry Styles, Cody Fern, Givenchy, Versace, John Galliano

( please bear with me since the gifs i will be using won’t reflect this and i’m very upset! )

BACKGROUND TW: death & bullying

You’ve always known what privilege is.

Your life on Eight was not perfect, but you had it much better than the other kids you went to school with. They made sure you knew that. 

You lost your father at a young age, but your mother was a hard worker, so she made up for it. Every day after school you would find her at her little shop turning scraps and trash into beautiful garments that kept both of you fed and clothed. That was supposed to be it. You were a kid, maybe that’s why you didn’t understand. All you saw were pretty colors.

Those were the happiest days of your life. Even with your father gone, you cherish the memories of your mother teaching you the proper way to handle a needle deeply. Life was easy, simple. The pretty colors filled your days. It didn’t matter that no one wanted to play with you because at least you had her.  Then the Capitol found you.

Well, they found your mother. You just came in a package deal. 

You were so young you didn’t understand why her creations were so loved, why people seemed to fawn over every new piece she’d exhibit by the shop’s window. All you saw were colors, the textures.  Your mother’s excitement confused you as well, because why would someone want to leave home? What about your father’s grave? You didn’t want to leave, but you loved your mother and you were barely eleven so you didn’t exactly have a choice. 

You thought things would be different at the Capitol. The kids back home didn’t like you because you were lucky to be in a better position than them. Maybe now that your mother was part of the big leagues things would change. You never expected to be rejected again, this time because of where you came from. You begged to be able to return home, but your mother was on cloud nine and had stopped listening a long time ago.

Your only friends were the sewing kit you got when you were ten. You still have it, though it hasn’t been used for years. It’s a nice reminder of life back at Eight.

Even as you grew up and your mother and her shop became a staple of the Capitol, kids didn’t really pay attention to you. Maybe part of it was your fault too. You were quiet, preferring to observe them in an attempt to imitate them in hopes they’d accept you one day. That didn’t exactly happen, but it gave you something to do when you weren’t busy working for your mother.

Things started looking up when mother met Freesia. She’d stop by the shop every day, your mother the reason why she was there. Despite that, the woman would almost bring you a small gift. Sweets, drawings you’d later use to create a new outfit. Freesia knew that you were lonely and did their best to help with that. When she married your mother, you were the happiest you’d ever been. 

Everything was perfect, but as you grew up, you noticed how the differences between your mother and her new wife were starting to affect their marriage. 

Your mother seemed to be determined to forget all about her life back on Eight. In a way, you understood. She would go on and on about how wonderful life was in the Capitol, how they had blessed you with a chance to be someone else, someone better. And they saved you from the games too, which she would be eternally grateful for. As for you, even as an adult that is a source of guilt you can’t seem to shake off, especially now that you work for the very same terror you managed to avoid.

Freesia was the opposite. You didn’t notice it at first. It’s not until you grew up that you began to learn more about their beliefs. Every year during the games, Freesia’s usual jovial mood would change. She’d spend time alone in their studio, never telling anyone what they were working on. It frustrated your mother and there was nothing you could do except listen to her ranting.

When you were asked to join the games as a stylist, your mother was ecstatic. Freesia was the opposite. They weren’t upset but you could tell they were worried for you. That was what got her to open up to you and reveal what they really thought about your adoptive home. Then everything clicked.

The fights, the secrets. Your mother refusing to talk to the few friends Freesia had. It was almost ironic. There you were, living with with a Capitol born woman from a good family that rejected her own history and condemned their home, and a mother born on Eight that was desperate to forget her past and pretend the Capitol had always been her home. You moved soon after.

You still talk to both, of course. Despite her many flaws you love your mother, and Freesia is your biggest support system. She is good at helping you remain humble now that your budding fame as a stylist is keeping you busy. And maybe there is more to that. Maybe one in a while she shares her opinions with you and has managed to influence your thoughts. Not that you’d reveal what you really think. 

With the climate being so heavy in Panem and people growing restless, you know it’s vital for you to follow your mother’s example and live your life pretending you finally feel like you belong. The Capitol seems to still have the upper hand, so you are in their corner, though Freesia’s arguments are good enough to make you consider leaning towards the other side.

Did the bullying leave a lasting effect on you? You want to say no, but you’d be kidding yourself. When people ask why you’re so quiet your only reply is to shrug and offer them a charming smile along with a compliment that will divert the conversation away from you. You mostly keep to yourself now that you’re older. It’s much easier than attempting to navigate the tempestuous waters of the Capitol, especially when you know how many enemies your stepmother has. So you keep your head down; learn and observe. You speak when spoken to, never allow yourself to say anything remotely controversial that could put your family at risk.

You’re a hard worker still, which has earned you enough leverage to be able to still have a place in high society. You’re not a top dog, but your talent cannot be ignored. Could you be bigger? Absolutely, but you’re content with what you have. You know very well what comes with notoriety and fear what could happen if people were to start looking into your personal life. 

But, what scares you the most is the possibility of people seeing what’s behind your politeness, of ever finding out the inner turmoil you live with because you don’t know where you really belong. Or that you’re starting to agree more with Freesia than with your own mother.

[sunnykeysmash]

A look at: AP BIO S3EP6, “That That That”

So this post is going to be sort of an... in-depth analysis for this episode. I hope people enjoy reading this! It’s a long one, so I apologize in advance. I hope it doesn’t feel rambly.

So the episode opens up with the janitor talking with some rats. 

We are treated to a shot from their point of view, as the man talks about the rats’ plead about how they’re “going to change”, and how they say they’re not “going anywhere”. Through this simple quick scene, the episode sets up the entire premise, both on a literal level, with the use of rat poison later on, and on a thematical level, introducing us to what’s going to become, by the end of the episode, Jack’s own point of view. Putting it like this, it’s like already the show is drawing a parallel, making us further empathize with Jack as he slowly starts feeling like a rat stuck in a maze himself.

As we’re introduced to Jack, he talks about preparing a recorded lecture for the University of Wisconsin on trascendentalism. 

Jack feels sure that what he wants is to get away from the school he’s in, that he won’t miss anything. He thinks this job is what he wants.

Now, trascendentalism is a philosophical movement that values the importance of subjective intuition, not reached through logic but through imagination. It preaches that people deep down already know what’s right for them, that the individual’s potential is limitless, and that the ego is not your true self. All themes that are slowly woven into the episode as Jack works through his subconscious while high off rat poison to come to the conclusion that he already knew deep down was right, and that he started feeling right at the start when people started questioning him.

As this process begins, he goes to talk to Lynette, his girlfriend. He brings up said lecture that he’s recording, it almost feels like he’s seeking her reassurance.

After that, we see him in the teacher lounge, kind of minding his business.

The scene starts out with the three teachers talking. In the frame, catching my eye immediately, is that fourth empty chair. It underlines that someone’s missing, someone that could be a part of what’s happening.

Eventually we cut back to Jack being in frame, except not really, because he starts out of focus, in the backgroung, listening in to the three teachers, framed like an outsider. This is to show us how he feels in the environment.

Then, as he enters the conversation, he gets into focus.

And we then cut back to the three of them.

There is a purposeful distance felt between the two parties, and it’s one that Jack is establishing by keeping himself to the side. This calls back to the themes of the episode right before this, Mr. Pistachio. They’re inviting him in, there is a place for him, but he feels like he doesn’t belong, he stays distant.

As the girls start talking to each other again, Jack is once again kept out of focus, but still clearly in the middle of the shot, which tells us we should still be paying attention to him.

And pay attention to the visual hierarchy, as well. With Jack pushed to the background, he appears small in comparison to the other figures who are big and overpowering. The full body shot, as he resists getting closer to them, almost feels revealing. Emotionally, what this communicates to us, to me personally, is a deep sense of vulnerability that Jack is feeling.

As he subconsciously starts to doubt where he truly wants to be, he feels exposed and out of place.

After this scene, Jack goes to talk to Durbin, and this is where we’re introduced to yet another small subplot that serves to reinforce the themes of the main one at hand.

Durbin is presented with an issue. He wants to tell his brother that he loves him, he has struggled with it in the past, and this is the week he is gaining the courage to do it. This plot will ultimately end up reflecting Jack’s own epiphany, but we’ll get there.

So finally, it’s late evening, school’s empty, and Jack has prepared the set up to record the lecture.

Visually we’re introduced to this duality of Jack on the screen of the ipad versus the real Jack trying to give a lecture. The perfect competent appearance that actually masks his doubts and hesitation.

Screens being often used in media to show something perfect, fake and unachievable, and this is no exception.

Jack starts its lecture:

“To achieve its perfect form, a caterpillar must withdraw and complete itself alone, in its cocoon. Likewise, for us to achieve spiritual perfection, in the view of trascendentalists like Henry David Thoreau, it is necessary to retreat from the mindless and negative influences of society.” 

This ends up being exactly what Jack does, as the rat poison induced trip lasts him an entire week, stuck alone in school, with nothing but his delusional and hallucinatory thoughts, he is forced to confront himself in complete solitude to come to the conclusion that was inside him.

He then commits a mistake, right at the end, calling Henry David Thoreau “Justin Thoreau”, the same way Mary, the teacher, did before. In a way, the school and the people in it are rubbing off on him, their presence in his mind manifests through this lapsus, effectively keeping him from completing the lecture correctly. Keeping him here.

He starts stumbling. He starts doubting himself.

“Is that right?”

He asks, the question resonating bigger than just about his current speech, feeling more like about his path in life and his actions.

A shot quickly zooms in on the camera lens, the frantic pace communicating anxiousness, but this shot in particular serves to fully immerse us in Jack’s shoes.

Feeling watched, feeling judged, scrutinized. Having to directly face his shortcomings, unable to blame anyone but himself, and having to ask himself why. The camera almost literally backing us - therefore, Jack - into a corner by coming this uncomfortably close to us.

He attempts to hype himself up and tries again. The whole thing accompanied by a background music that’s basically nothing if not ticking (like a clock) and percussion. It feels quiet and tense.

We then get another shot that’s a clean transition from the screen to the real Jack. In the screen, he appears confident, but as soon as the camera focuses on the real Jack, he loses tracks of what he was saying and once again struggles. Quietly, he turns to look at the background.

He slowly, tentatively reorganizes a single book, then positions himself back, only to turn again towards the bookshelf, still dissatisfied.

Without a single line of dialogue, this shows us precisely what he’s feeling and lets us understand his slow descent into madness. He feels that there’s something wrong, out of place, something that must not be right, but he’s not yet looking at himself to fix this problem, instead he’s looking at his surroundings, trying to gather back the control that he feels he’s rapidly losing by attempting to control what’s around him.

And so he deeply cleans the entire office, reorganizes and color codes the books behind him.

Being introduced to his struggle before the rat poison even starts to affect him lets the transition between reality and hallucination feel seamless, so much so that during a first viewing we start to doubt what’s real and what’s fake, and when.

The overall eerie tone of the episode makes it feel like a take on psychological horror, as the slow loss of control is accentuated by increasingly bizarre events that go completely unquestioned.

Attempt after attempt, we feel as though we are entering a loop with no chance of escaping. Which is exactly what Jack feels.

We then get this.

Jack is fixating on his issue, without much success in resolving it. He’s facing and confronting it over and over. Visually, it’s made bigger than himself by its oppressive presence in the frame.

The only soundtrack accompanying this is a kind of vibration, a deep and hard to hear sound that just looms in the background. This episode in general is very quiet, which helps the atmosphere feel lonely and tense.

He screams, but there’s no one who can hear him. It’s just himself.

He sees this mouse pad and once again the picture visually reinforces this sense of looping, of feeling stuck and trapped in a repeating endless cycle.

He tries to rip it in half. But he can’t.

Just as he can’t overcome what he’s struggling with, his own cycle that he’s stuck in. He wants to break free, but he’s not sure from what. Is his prison this school he says he hates so much, or is his prison his own ego, trapping him into feeling like an outcast, into isolation, into never opening up or being vulnerable. 

This is actually a theme in the entire season, Jack slowly learning to open up and be vulnerable. But this episode in particular feels like a turning point for his character, a moment of realization, of personal intuition. Trascendence. Beyond his limits, beyond his own walls. Through a trascendent experience, the hallucinations.

He falls asleep on the floor, visually representing his rock bottom.

He’s then woken up, there’s faint wind chimes sounds, and he’s surrounded by darkness in a way that feels ethereal. As he exits the room to check the source of the smell that’s almost calling to him, we see nothing but him entering light.

He’s barely visible, surrounded by fog, he can’t see where he’s going very well.

He sees a figure, and asks this:

“Are you in a caterpillar costume?”

When the figure turns to face him, Jack is frightened and runs away.

This immediate association between the very subject he was talking about, and him fleeing in terror, serves to illustrate his true feelings towards what he’s doing by recording this lecture. He’s scared of it, and he’s running away from it.

He wakes up again in the same room as he was before, only this time the light is almost blinding.

Here, Helen appears. This dialogue follows:

Jack: “Jesus, Helen, what are you doing here?” Helen: “Oh, you know I can’t stay away from Whitlock long.”

We quickly find out that this is a dream sequence that Jack is having. Thanks to this knowledge, we know that all the dialogue Jack entertains with the rest of the school workers, all his friends, is nothing more than his internal dialogue manifesting to him through them.

He’s asking himself why he’s at this highschool. The other voice, Helen, replies that it’s because they can’t stay away. They like being here.

But this realization comes with horror and shock to Jack, and so it quickly turns into a graphic, horrid description.

He once again escapes it, going immediately to try recording his lecture again, but Helen bursts into the room kicking the door. All these terrifying thoughts are tormenting him.

He runs away, camera in his hands. Gets interrupted once again.

In this attempt, we are completely unable to see him through the screen because of how out of focus he is to us in there. His attempt at a perfect facade is proving completely infructuous, all we can see is the real Jack, deeply struggling.

He gets interrupted by the three teachers again, and this dialogue happens.

Michelle: “Jack, you’re here! We thought that that video would be done by now.” Jack: “Uh, yeah, unfortunately... it’s not.”

Once again doubt seeps in as he worries about what’s taking him so long, it’s also interesting to notice how the girls use “that that” with no problem whatsoever.

They invite him to join them in playing a game, and he finds himself going along with them at first, before stopping himself, panicked.

Jack: “I don’t have time for your dumb, fun games! I gotta do this video!”

This dialogue sets an intense contrast with the scene with them at the start, in reality.

In that scene, he calls their games “terrible”, then looks at them with fondness.

Here, instead, he’s stressing that he doesn’t have time for it. He wants to participate, as is shown, but he can’t because of his own self imposed obligation.

In other words, this is exposing to him, though still through an horror lense, his realization that he’s gonna miss all these chances to hang out with his friends if he goes through with it.

He keeps running away, and ends up in his class.

His reflection in the screen appears now deeply warped.

The writing on the whiteboard is upside down, something is deeply wrong.

He’s alone, then all of a sudden he’s not, as the camera twists to the side and gets closer.

We are treated to some dutch angles.

He tries again, but the words aren’t even his. He asks if he sounds like Marcus, and the students all nod while creaking sounds can be heard as they do.

Day 2. He’s still eating the same spaghetti as before, and he accidentally gets sauce on his shirt. A stain that just won’t go away. A visible imperfection. He snaps, he covers himself in them, then puts on some makeup powder, helplessly trying to cover it all up. Of course, that does nothing. He’s trying to bury a problem that has become impossible to conceal.

Getting in front of the camera again, he says this:

Jack: “I want this job. I’m so overqualified.”

It’s like he’s trying to convince himself, since he’s not really talking to anyone but a camera lens. Then there’s the part about being overqualified. The thing is, he’s right, and he know he’s right. On a qualification and competence standpoint, he should be able to ace this, no problem. So why is he struggling? Does he want this job?

In comes Durbin.

Durbin: “Jack! ...you’re still here. Working on your video.” Jack: “Yeah uh- but everybody keeps stopping me...” Durbin: “Let’s get you back on the right track. What’s the problem?” Jack: “I got sketty on my shirt...” Durbin: “I’ve got what you need right here. Everything you need is always right in front of you, Jack. Always check the lost and found.”

Lots to unpack here. Everytime Jack encounters someone again, they always comment on how he’s still at school, he hasn’t left. He keeps getting stopped, his subconscious keeps stopping him, since we know this is all a hallucination. He’s going down the wrong path, and Durbin in this situation represents what’s right for Jack, the truth in his subconscious. “Everything you need is in front of you”.

Additionally, the way he explains the problem, speaking like a sad child, makes you feel just how lost he is, just how small he feels. Him feeling small, lost, vulnerable and scared is a huge theme in the entire episode, as you can see.

So he tries again, and this is where we first experience the transition. As Jack is enthusiastic to put on the suit Durbin gives him, we then see that his appearance in the screen is quite different. He looks ridiculous. But in his reality, as his real self, he looks spotless, happy. This is him starting to accept the concept that what he needed was always in front of him. Because whereas the screen just shows us what he wants to present himself as, his facade, the real him shows us his true feelings, how he feels towards this highschool and all his friends and the life he lives here.

By accepting his life as it is, his job at Whitlock, he knows he might end up looking ridiculous and his image may suffer, but inside he feels better, he feels good, happy, realized.

The expression he makes as he sees this suit, is the expression of a man that has found what he was looking for. This is why it emerging from a “lost ad found” box is very significant symbolically.

It’s not just himself that changes inbetween “reality” and “screen”, however, it’s the entire location. His background, everything.

He finally finishes his speech, successfully this time. But Helen comes to take the camera and tripod away.

Jack accuses her of “sabotaging him”, but we as the audience will soon come to realize that he’s sabotaging himself.

He runs after her, and as he does, the lights around him start malfunctioning once again.

He opens a door and sees his mother with a young Durbin. He’s understandably unsettled. His mom having always been something close to his heart, we can even see her as a representation of his most intense emotions and of love. He’s struggling to fully come to terms with admitting that he loves being at this school. 

He gets away, only to come closer once again once he hears more noises. He opens the door.

He gets in, softly asks for his ipad, and as he walks closer we get an overview of what’s happening. Jack, on his desk, being dissected by his students, completely torn open. 

Once again, this visual serves to show Jack’s sense of uncomfortableness with being open and totally vulnerable.

He’s being scrutinized and studied and analyzed all the way to his deepest insides. It’s scary, it’s uncomfortable and it hurts. “I think I found the heart.” “Girl, that’s his bladder.”, he’s being judged mercilessly. That’s how he feels.

“How would we know? We never learned biology.

There’s a sense of guilt for never doing what he should’ve from the very beginning. He regrets not being there for his students, teaching, he’s scared that he’ll never get the chance now that he knows he wants to. This is manifesting though Sarika.

Jack: “I have to go... why are you keeping me from leaving?” Marcus: “We’re not keeping you from anything, Mr Griffin. You’re doing all of this. Your mind has created an entire world of distractions to keep you from doing that video.” Dan: “You know, it’s almost like you don’t want to leave.” Jack: “Yes I do? ...I think I do...”

In this moment, his most open one, he’s finally confronted with his desire to stay.

And this is when he wakes up.

Now back in reality, his appearance in fact resembles the way he looked like in the screen in his mind. So to reiterate, the real him in his mind was simply how he felt, while the screen was the way people see Jack in real life. At this point in the episode, subconsciously, he has come to fully accept it.

He does try to fix up the room, but it’s too much of a mess by now.

We cut to all of his friends discussing together. In comes Helen, with her nose bandage, and she says this.

Helen: “Oh, I’m so glad to see you guys!” Mary: “Helen, what happened?” Helen: “Well, I’m starting to think that the relationship I have with that animal is not what I thought it was.”

This dialogue is meant to reflect Jack’s situation, as do all the subplots in the episode.

The dialogue continues when Helen asks Durbin how it went with his brother.

Helen: “Did you tell your brother that you loved him?” Durbin: “Oh, well, I... kinda sorta chocked on saying that exact phrase, so...” Michelle: “That’s okay Ralph, it’s hard to be vulnerable.” Stef: “Yeah, and you have to respect the fact that he may not be there yet.” Durbin: “Yeah, I just feel kinda bad because a bunch of times he said “I love you” and I said “Yeah, good good good good good”...” Helen: “Well I’m sure he knows how you feel.” Durbin: “Well, at one point he said “Do you love me? Because I can’t tell.” and I said “I don’t know” and I got into a lift and went to the airport, just full choke.”

This all reflects Jack’s own feelings. He’s not quite at a point where he can openly admit to loving his friends and Whitlock, but at the same time this dialogue shows us that they are understanding of it, they know that being vulnerable and open can be very hard, and they’re patient. They do know that Jack loves them.

Enter Dave, in a wheelchair, injured from head to toe.

Dave: “You know who else choked? Maybe the hardest of all?” Everyone: “JACK!!!”

Enters Jack. Everyone cheers his arrival.

Of course, the dialogue just quoted is a joking way to point out how Jack failed in making that recorded lecture.

He shares a cute moment with his girlfriend, and softly says:

Jack: “You were thinking about me...”

It’s like it comes as a surprise to him, that he’s loved, that other people genuinely like him and want him to stay.

He continues.

Jack: “Um, hey, I should talk to you about something. Uh, in fact, I actually have to tell all of you about something important that I realized while you were gone. I realized that-”

He’s interrupted but the janitor which he had previously punched. The guy who was doing the rat disinfestation.

In other words, he chokes, as well.

Mary: “So Jack, what did you learn?” Jack: “Uh... well, I, uh... I invented a new game.”

Instead he chooses to bring that game he hallucinated into reality, making time for it. Being enthusiastic for it.

He enters his classroom.

Jack: “Alright, everybody, shut your precious beautiful mouths. You know after spending an entire week alone in this empty school... I realized that I can’t survive without community. And I came to appreciate... all of you.”

This reflects the trascendalistic philosophical approach of Thoreau, who retreated alone in nature to find true purpose in life.

He goes to write on the whiteboard.

All his previous writing wiped but still visible. He did do all of that, but it’s gone now, it’s no longer present. It’s solved.

Jack: “And I decided that I wanted each of you to finish this year knowing more biology than any student ever has...” Sarika: “Mr Griffin? I know we’ve had our differences in the past...” Jack: “Uh, yeah,  hold that thought, Sarika, because the biggest thing that I learned is that prolonged exposure to rodent killing gas causes hallucinations and irrational ideation. And all these things that I thought I learned? Well... chemically induced illusions... caused by a dying brain”

He draws an X on top of the words “community”, “you” and “biology”.

Jack: But! Now... I got my thinker back in the pink. Everything’s back to normal...” 

He takes out a bunch of spaghetti and a box of rat poison, sprinkles them heavily with it, and takes a bite like it’s the most normal thing.

So what does it mean, is he rejecting all that he learned? No. He’s keeping up his facade, as being vulnerable is hard, but inside he’s embracing what he learned. This is communicated to us through him ingesting the poisoned spaghetti, going back into his mind, accepting the embarassment and weirdness and going back to that scary feeling of vulnerability for more. He might say that it’s all back to normal, but we clearly see it’s not, and we clearly know that he’s glad to be back and stay back, we see it through his actions. 

Ultimately this is a sort of turning point for Jack Griffin, while he might not yet be able to express his feelings, while still going back to a place of denial using the rat poison as the excuse for everything that happened in his brain, this is his first step towards accepting what his subconscious has known all along, his first step to “trascend from a caterpillar into a butterfly”.

This is... trascendentalism, as construed by AP Bio.

[swanqueeneverafter]

The Once & Future Queen Pt.29

Morgana’s New Hideout. (A hooded man enters and stands before Morgana between four flaming torches. Mordred is stood by her right side.) Morgana: “What a pleasure it is to see you again, Ari.” (Ari pushes his hood back. There is a druid symbol on his neck.) Ari: “The honour is all mine, my lady.” Morgana: “Your arrival has been keenly anticipated, I can assure you. (Glances at Mordred:) I have boasted of your powers. Though not all believe.” Ari: “People may believe as they wish.” Morgana: “Oh, well perhaps some small proof of your talents is in order. After all, seeing is believing. Is it not?” Ari: “I’m not an entertainer my lady.” Morgana: (Chuckles:) “Of course not. (Her tone sobers immediately:) Think of it more as a demonstration. Extinguish those flames.” Ari: “My lady, I must protest.” Morgana: “Indulge me.” Ari: “Forp fleoge!” (The fires go out.) Morgana: “Impressive, indeed. Who here now could deny your powers? (A guard brings forth a box to Morgana. Ari recognizes the symbol on top of the box while Morgana stands to open it. Ari tries to move back but the guards grab his arms. Lifting the lid, Morgana begins to chant:) Aweax thu metethearfenda! Thicge thu thone drycraeft the thinan deorcan mode gefylth.”

Ari: (Struggling to free himself:) “Not this. (The guards force him down to the ground:) Please, Morgana. My lady, I beg of you. I’m begging you.” (A slug-like creature slithers its way up out of the box and leaps at Ari, landing on his face. Ari struggles with it for a while. The creature then slithers away as Morgana returns to her throne. Ari lies motionless after the creature has attacked.) Mordred: “Is he dead?” Morgana: “If I had wanted him dead, I would have put a sword in his gut. (Ari takes a deep breath. The guards help him to his feet:) Don’t despair Ari, we’re nearly done. If you’d do me the favor of relighting those fires.” Ari: “You know… I cannot.” Morgana: “For the benefit of my friends.” (Ari jerks his arms free from the guards.) Ari: “I will not humiliate myself before you.” Morgana: “You will if you want to see your family alive.” Ari: (Reluctantly:) “Bael onbryne!” Morgana: (Yells:) “Again! (Calmly:) If you please.” Ari: “Bael onbryne.” (Ari weeps. Morgana motions for the guards to take him away.) Mordred: “He was a loyal soldier, in robbing him of his magic you’ve lost yourself a powerful ally.” Morgana: “Perhaps. But now we know the war can be won. (A door shuts:) For Merlin stands in the way of my destiny and Merlin is nothing without magic.”

Storybrooke. The Three Bears Day Spa. (While receiving treatments, the Mills sisters discuss Maria, who is currently sleeping on the chair between them.) Zelena: "When you think about it, I should be spending even more time with Maria." Regina: "And how do you come to that conclusion?" Zelena: "Well, out of the three of us, I'm the only one who was born with magic and practiced it in their infancy. Neither you or Emma can say that." Regina: "That may be so, but Maria is our daughter, not yours." Zelena: (Waves this off:) "She may as well be, given all we have in common." Regina: "Zelena, I came here for your advice, not to sign over my parental rights." Zelena: "Okay, fine. Look, whatever you decide, just remember how important it is to show Maria support right from the start, not like my so-called father back in Oz who did everything he could to make me feel ashamed about my powers." (While Zelena is momentarily lost in her memories, Regina reaches out and gives her sister's hand a consoling squeeze.) Elsewhere. (Meanwhile in the back room, Emma watches Drizella make herself at home.) Emma: "So you're working here now?" Drizella: "Not quite. I've convinced the owners to take me on as a consultant." Emma: "A consultant? Do you know much about spa treatments then?" Drizella: "Other than receiving the occasional gift certificate, no I don't." Emma: "So how can you-" Drizella: (Talking over her:) "I've also convinced a half dozen other businesses to hire me." Emma: "All right... to do what exactly?" Drizella: (Smiles:) "To let them know everything they're doing wrong and show them how to fix it." Emma: "Ah, I see. Something tells me you're really going to enjoy this line of work." Drizella: "I know, right? Plus it can only help my chances of becoming Mayor." Emma: (Points a finger at her:) "Don't you start winking at me again, I mean it." Drizella: (Smirks then walks behind the desk and takes a seat:) "So, what can I do for you?" Emma: "It's about Maria." Drizella: "Ugh. Let me stop you right there, okay? We may be family now but that doesn't mean you can just expect me to babysit at a moment's notice." Emma: (Dryly:) "I'll keep that in mind. Actually what I wanted to ask was about your magic." Drizella: "Oh, that." Emma: "You were born with it, right?" Drizella: "I was. Not that it ever did me any good. It's not like I could practice my skills without fear of what the people around us would think. Although I do remember when Ana and I were little, I would make the stuffed animals on our beds come to life and we'd have these elaborate tea parties. Then one day my mother caught me and just screamed at me to be normal, to be like my sister. (Looking down:) The irony being that they both would surround themselves with magic long after mine had faded away. (Looking up at Emma:) I bet you didn't know magic could do that, huh?" Emma: "I hadn't really thought about it." Drizella: "Yeah, well it's like anything I suppose - use it or lose it. (There is silence between them for a long moment before Drizella sighs and continues:) Later on, as my resentment for my mother grew and Gothel came into my life, my magic would return under her guidance. I think Gothel had hoped that I would be the one to lead her to great things, but well, you know how that turned out." Emma: (Nods:) "So, you don't miss having your magic?" Drizella: "Sometimes. It would've been nice to have back in Morgana's pit obviously, but generally my experience with magic is that it's more trouble than it's worth." Emma: (Considers this, looking uneasy:) "You could be right." Drizella: "Don't worry, Emma. (Emma looks to her:) I'll wave my consultancy fee, this time." (Emma gives her a small smile, then turns and leaves the room.)

Dun Broch. (Merida stands at her father's grave, accompanied by Anastasia.) Anastasia: (Noticing the wineskin in Merida's hand:) "What's that?” Merida: “Magical ale. Merlin gave it to me. Do you know the legend of Seonaidh?” Anastasia: “No, I can’t say I do.” Merida: “Well, one cup of this can summon the spirit of anyone who's passed to the Underworld.” Anastasia: “So you’re going to try and talk to your father?” Merida: “That’s the plan. (Sighs:) Here goes.” (Merida splashes some of the ale on the ground, but nothing happens.) Fergus: (Appearing after she tries again:) “Don't waste that. (Merida turns to face him:) It's good ale.” Merida: (Breathing shakily:) “Dad.” Fergus: “Merida... You did it. You became queen.” Merida: “I'm sorry.” Fergus: “For what?” Merida: “For Annis. I tried to reason with her but-” Fergus: “There’s no reasoning with my sister, there never was. Don’t worry about Annis, she’s here with me.” Merida: “And I’m sorry I lost faith in you. Back when I thought you used the enchanted helm to lead your troops into battle.” Fergus: “It's all right. I lost faith in meself when I went to the witch for that helm.” Merida: (Walks closer to him:) “Why didn't you use it? What made you change your mind?” Fergus: “You did... The night before the battle. After I spoke to you, I realized if I wanted to show you what it took to be a leader, I couldn't use magic to do it.” Merida: “Aye. You showed me what a true leader is. And I will never forget that. (Voice breaking:) I just want to make you proud, Dad.” Fergus: “You already have.” (Merida cries and runs into her father’s arms.) Merida: (Crying:) “I wish you were still here.” Fergus: “Me too, but you have someone else to look out for you now.” Merida: “What?” Fergus: (They part:) “Just don’t let the blonde lassie slip away.” Merida: (Fergus disappears:) “Dad... I love you.” (Merida cries, then exhales deeply. Composing herself, she turns around only to find that Anastasia has gone.)

(After deciding to give Merida her space, Anastasia wanders into a field. Watching her from behind a tree, Morgana incants a spell. At that moment, a snake slithers up and startles Anastasia. Hurrying away from the snake, Anastasia runs into Morgana who stares at her curiously. Preparing herself for a magical duel, Anastasia is beaten to the punch when Morgana uses her magic against her, blasting Anastasia backwards and knocking her unconscious.) Morgana: (Standing over her:) “Sleep, milady. For it could be some time before you do so again.“ The Land of Untold Stories. (It is the night of Emma and Regina's wedding anniversary and to celebrate, the ladies are attending the premiere of a new stage performance.)

(Standing outside the theatre, the ladies have their photo taken by the persistent Reporter who is also covering the event. Hoping for a few words, the Reporter is disappointed as both women are rushed inside by one of the excited producers.) Camelot. Night. (Merlin stands meditating alone in the courtyard at the site where his tree form once stood. Suddenly, Merlin sees a vision of Mordred surrounded by flames walking towards a future version of himself. Mordred draws his sword and runs Merlin through. Opening his eyes, Merlin shakes himself out of his trance like state, clearly concerned by what he's just seen.) 

Forest. Night. (After hours spent trying to find Anastasia, Merida spots a lone figure in the distance. She draws nearer, tracking her target silently until she's upon them.) Merida: (Drawing back her bow:) "Stop right there! Don't you make a move." Mordred: (Smirks:) "Merida, I presume?" Merida: "Aye, that's right, now who the hell are you?" Mordred: "I have a message from Morgana." Merida: "I knew it. All right, let's hear it." (Suddenly, Merida's bow is flung across the field. Reaching out and grabbing her by the throat, Mordred pulls Merida tightly against himself.) Mordred: "My lady wishes to tell you that if you ever want to see your girlfriend again, you must do exactly as I say. Are you listening? (Merida nods, her eyes wide:) Good, then I'll begin." The Land Of Untold Stories. Theatre. (While the packed house watches the performance on stage, an entirely different show is happening backstage. After sitting through the first act and only having eyes for each other, Regina and Emma took it upon themselves to make their own entertainment for the evening. With her dress bunched around her middle and her legs wrapped around Regina's waist, Emma holds on for dear life to one of the ropes nearby.) Regina: (Grinding her thigh against Emma's centre:) "Careful, we don't want to bring down the house." Emma: (Breathing heavy:) "I gotta hold on to something or I'm gonna fall to the floor." Regina: "Mm, allow me. (Regina steps backwards, allowing Emma's dress to sink to her ankles. Motioning for Emma to step out of her dress, Regina guides her back towards an old arm chair which was used during the first act. Taking a seat, Emma smiles at Regina before the brunette takes her hands and places them on the back of the chair:) There now, hold on to that." (At the sight of Regina slowly sinking to her knees, Emma obeys and grips the chair tightly. Soon finding her legs lifted over Regina's shoulders, Emma is grateful for the music of the ongoing performance as it helps drown out the sounds of her ecstasy.)

[dudeandduchess]

Why the Moon Became the Sun: Giyuu x F!S/O (Mythology AU)

Rating: SFW Warnings: Language, Mention of Character Death (?)

Note: Hey hey, bbys! Since there was an overwhelming flood of responses from my earlier post, here’s that Giyuu scenario I was talking about. This one is based on the myth of Selene and Endymion, which is a favorite of mine.

My most favorite thing about this has to be Giyuu’s first and last lines. Very ‘poetic’. Lmao.

The moon goddess’ days used to be filled with so much joy. She used to take pride in what she did; whenever she took to the skies and headed the transition of day into night.

Her skillful hands would touch upon the clouds and draw them away from where they covered the stars; all with a serene smile on her face, as she loved doing her duties.

The sight of the humans below her admiring her handiwork was enough thanks for her. However, the longer that she kept on with her tasks, the lonelier she became.

Because with the night came the time for rest. Very few humans would stay up until dawn to keep the moon and the stars company; and even fewer would be enchanted enough to talk to (Y/n) herself.

They called her Tsukuyomi, but that was merely a placeholder name. Her real name— the one which her father had given to her was (Y/n); it was the name that her brother called her, and it was also the name she used whenever she came across peculiar mortals.

In her loneliness, she would seek out mortals who worked under the guise of night. She hoped for one of them to notice her presence, but no one ever did. They were too busy with their own business; some slaying demons, while others travelled far and wide to sell their goods.

She had tried to find a companion for so long, that she’d given up on the idea of it altogether. Her brother had been right all along: they were destined to live our long and lonely lives.

However, it wasn’t until she had been spotted by a demon slayer, and mistaken for a mortal woman that her heart had began beating once more. She felt so alive and energized that she hung on to the young man’s every word.

“Are you alright?” The dark-haired man had asked her. His voice was so gentle that it had her blushing all the way to the tips of her ears. Because in all her years of life, she had never had a man talk to her like that.

“I... I’m alright,” (Y/n) answered hesitantly, all while admiring his handsome features.

“What are you doing out here in the forest? Is there a demon nearby? Was it following you?” The young man asked as he checked over the stranger’s façade. She didn’t seem to have any injuries, which prompted him to pull her up to stand with him.

“A demon? No,” (Y/n) answered with a shake of her head. “My name’s (Y/n)... but you may know me better as Tsukuyomi.”

“I don’t know any people named Tsukuyomi. But I’m Tomioka Giyuu; I’m a demon slayer,” Giyuu answered bluntly, which had (Y/n) laughing heartily at his words.

Most people would have already dismissed her musings as sordid and crazy, but not him. He’d simply brushed her answer off as if it meant nothing.

And that was the start of a beautiful friendship between them.

(Y/n) followed Giyuu everywhere he went in the daytime, as her duties had already ended and she was free to roam around and slack off. But when night came, she regretted leaving him to continue the transition between day and night.

She had told him of her true identity and, after much explaining, he had finally understood that she wasn’t a mere mortal. Then began the next phase of their relationship; from friends, they became lovers...

It was inevitable from the very start, as both of them had felt their hearts yearning for one another. From that first moment they saw each other, it was as if something had been triggered inside (Y/n) that she simply couldn’t stay away from Giyuu.

Even though she was tired from her duties, she would always go to see him; to spend time with him and fill her days with hours spent in his arms.

The same could be said for Giyuu, as he consciously made an effort to make time for his beloved goddess. His tasks as slayer and as a Hashira were spaced out evenly, so that he could still do them to the best of his ability, while still managing to shower (Y/n) with all the love and attention she deserved.

Their love was a spectacle that was bathed in nothing but bliss.

And with every night that passed by, Giyuu would always look forward to seeing his beloved slowly float down from the sky. He would always wait for her, eyes heavenward and arms stretched out to catch her.

Their days were filled with love and endless happiness, but both of them knew that it couldn’t be possible to keep that degree of bliss without repercussions, so (Y/n) took to asking her brother for advice on how to become a mortal.

“There’s no way to give up your immortality, (Y/n). You were born with it, and you will continue to exist with it. Your mortal lover will grow old and fade away, and he will turn to nothing in your memories soon enough,” Amaterasu, her brother, answered her query with a flippant wave of his hand.

She didn’t take too kindly to his answer though, as she knew that a lecher like him would never understand how she felt. So, with an angry shove, she overpowered the Sun deity’s own powers with her own— thus instigating the first Solar Eclipse.

“You absolute bastard!” She cried out irately, as her brother got up from where he’d landed on the floor and righted things; with regards to both the world and to his askew clothes. “Have you never fallen in love with anyone— so in love with them that you’re willing to leave all of this behind for them?”

(Y/n) gestured to the lavish home built around them. It was their palace up in the sky; well away from the prying gazes of mortals and lesser gods.

There the sun and moon didn’t switch places in the sky; they simply hung together on opposite sides of the spectrum, as their surroundings were bathed in nothing but brightness.

Instantly, the scowl on the young god’s face morphed into a somber expression, before he shook his head and clicked his tongue— as if debating with himself whether or not to divulge his knowledge to his sister.

In the end, he gave in. Because he had also loved a mortal once... she had refused his offer to turn into a mortal for her, and had grown old and faded away; as all humans were fated to do. And he didn’t want his sister to suffer through the same pain that he had, as he was sure that she would never heal from it like he hadn’t.

“You can put him under an eternal sleep,” He began softly, while (Y/n) listened attentively to his words. “So that he will never grow old and die.”

And with that, (Y/n) set out to do just as her brother told her to.

She had lured Giyuu to the top of of a wisteria-covered mountain. And once there, she had lulled him to sleep with the power of her own song.

Every night, when she was done with all of her tasks, she would go to him and wrap herself in his arms— pretending that he was awake and that they were talking just as they had before.

She would plant kisses upon his skin, reveling in the smiles that would occasionally tug up at the corners of his lips, but it wasn’t the same as when he was awake.

Day after day, even though she had tried to suppress her feelings of guilt and sadness, she couldn’t hold them back anymore. Giyuu’s constant silence had made her long to hear his voice, even if to only ask how her day had been.

A handful of months without hearing his voice was pure torture to her.

She had fallen so deeply for his personality, rather than his looks, that physically being with him wasn’t enough. She wanted him just as he was... even if she would have to face his inevitable death someday.

And so, with a heavy sigh, she released her magic around him and watched as his eyes fluttered open.

“(Y/n)? What are we doing here?” Giyuu asked with bleary eyes. He blinked his gaze back into focus, and frowned when he saw the tears that kept rolling down his beloved’s cheek.

Slowly, he rose up from where he laid on the ground and cupped her cheek in his right hand; wiping away another tear that fell down her face.

“I did a horrible thing to you and I’m so sorry, Giyuu. Please forgive me; I only wanted to be with you forever,” The goddess admitted through her tears, then went on to explain how she had put him under a spell to make him sleep for eternity— thus aiming to keep him alive forever.

He knew that he should have been mad at her for doing so, but he couldn’t fault her for it; as he understood how she felt. In fact, if there was a way that he could be with her forever— aside from becoming a demon— he would have already done so long ago.

So, with all the love he had for her, he gathered his goddess up in his arms and pressed gentle kisses upon the crown of her head. “One day I’ll be reborn, and when that day comes I’ll do everything I can to find you. You just have to be patient until then. It’s going to be alright, (Y/n).”

And after that day, they spent every moment they could together.

(Y/n), in an effort to keep her lover safe while he was on his missions, had switched with her brother to be the handler of the sun.

Since Giyuu only held his missions at night, it was important for (Y/n) to fully stay beside him so she could protect him; and she couldn’t do that if she still had her nightly tasks to take care of.

Thus, she had asked her brother if they could exchange domains, so that she could not only stay with Giyuu at night, but so that she could also serve as his salvation when morning came.

And they stayed that way, until the inevitable end of Giyuu’s days.

((If you liked my work, please consider buying me a ko-fi. Thank you so much! :D))

[villanevest]

"I Can Help You": the Build-Up to & Significance of 2x07's Villaneve Sex[ish] Scene

of COURSE i am going to write about this. before we get started though, i wanted to tell you all that while @villainever is still running, i will be mostly posting from my brand-new primary, @villanevest (this blog). so follow me for the same stupid memes, and check the "villanevest writes" tag if you're interested in more of these essays :D alright. now let's get going. killing eve is an extremely versatile show, and that's absolutely a credit to the writers being willing to follow the characters and their relationships, which allows the narrative to develop in a simultaneously organic and deeply compelling way. the greatest complexity of the series is also its primary draw: the dynamic between villanelle and eve, and its evolution. in this mini-essay, we're going to step through why -- I believe -- the construction of the sex scene as two separate but synchronised encounters is the best choice for killing eve right now, and how they've accelerated towards it since the pilot. from the beginning, villanelle and eve have been all about parallels. the first time we see villanelle in the ice-cream shop, she's spaced-out, bored, a vacant observer. the first time we see eve, she's asleep. these scenes are very deliberately presented to us, one after another: here, we have two women who feel displaced and alienated. neither of them is lonely, not exactly; they have people in their lives. what they lack is real, significant passion, something beyond the routine -- for villanelle, that "routine" is a lot more dramatic, certainly, but nonetheless, they're both numbed out, but until they meet each other, they're not really aware of that.

and then we have that moment in the hospital bathroom. it's not a coincidence that they're standing in front of a mirror, confronted with each other, and themselves. the composition of this visual directly implies that villanelle and eve are not just alike, but inherently complementary. in many ways, eve is a reflection of villanelle, and villanelle is a reflection of eve -- that is, opposite, but also identical. it's not until later that they really understand the importance of this two-second conversation, but  it's the first breath of an obsession that will span continents and become literally life and death. 

eve and villanelle discover each others' real identities at the same time, in a montage that draws focus again to these similarities between them and their experiences. but this is when their respective trajectories towards each other begin to progress separately and distinctly. the reason for this is that while villanelle is unquestionably the "cat" in this cat-and-mouse equation, at this point, she is also the one being chased, and eve is in pursuit. for most of the first season, villanelle has more information about and power over eve than vice-versa. for eve, who still has niko, she is seduced into the thrill of villanelle through that prescribed pursuit, and for a little while, that's enough for her. but villanelle doesn’t have such a set structure, and -- once she knows eve's name and eve's face -- almost immediately begins seeking out copies.

the first copy she constructs is herself, signing in as "eve polastri" while working in berlin. this is mostly a stunt to get eve's attention -- the first of many (amsterdam, anyone?) -- but it compounds on 1x01's thematic suggestion of their compatibility. the second copy, however, is perhaps the most blatant example of this: the woman from the tour group who sleeps with villanelle in 2x03. villanelle tells her she "loves her [American] accent", and gets her to take her hair down, and then goes on to actually call her eve.

villanelle's interest in superficially recreating eve fades fairly early, after eve gets out of the car to confront villanelle when villanelle is absolutely armed and definitely dangerous, for no apparent reason other than she wants to. villanelle scares her off with a warning shot (even though she could've very easily killed her at this point), but then doubles back the next episode, with the kitchen sequence from 1x05. villanelle says she "just wants to have dinner with [eve]", but i think this evening really exceeds her expectations. prior to this, she was very interested in eve, obviously, but after it, villanelle's infatuation becomes both more significant and more mature, and so does eve's. they've got chemistry when they're together, not just in the tension of being apart. BUT. so, so much of their story is spent apart. season one is a blur of glimpsed profiles and silhouettes, with only the bathroom, the kitchen, and finally villanelle's apartment providing them sites to briefly interact. at the end of 1x08, villanelle tells eve, "i masturbate about you a lot", but eve denies doing the same, which is probably true, in the sense that eve still believes she doesn’t (actively, at least) consider villanelle in a sexual way. then season two picks up, and they're apart again. only they're less apart than they were before. villanelle is right when she assures gabriel that eve stabbed her to "show [her] how much she cares about [her]". while it was barely premediated, and i don't think eve necessarily viewed it as a confession, it absolutely is; a confession of who she really is, and that that person is irrevocably linked to villanelle. in stabbing villanelle, eve puts the first truly irreversible crack in her façade of normality; she can't go back now, not all the way. the show doesn't really linger on this, though, because it's so obvious that eve doesn't WANT to go back. as reticent as i am to quote shakespeare, i will make an exception for this case, and take utterly out of context the line, "these violent delights have violent ends". for eve and villanelle, they need the violent delights and violent ends alike; sex and destruction and obsession and pain are integral to their characters. why? because i think such extreme emotions and acts break through that nothingness, that fugue villanelle talks about in 2x06. 

and so the stab wound -- which villanelle proudly shows off to niko in 2x05 -- becomes something of a pact between them. to eve, it means villanelle affects her strongly enough to push her out of herself (except really, into herself), and to villanelle, it means eve can exist in her world, can challenge and surprise her, can interrupt the boredom with these bright spots of total involvement and utter fascination. and since we’ll be talking about parallels later -- in 2x02, villanelle caressing her wound in the bathtub is juxtaposed with eve tracing the heart carved into the train table. i think a “carved heart” is pretty much the wound is, too. from the pilot, villanelle and eve's relationship is an intricate dance of towards/away, together/apart. over the story, over each direct and indirect crossing of their paths, they become more towards, less away; more together, less apart. after season one, particularly 1x08, they have this permanent and indelible connection. but they're still consistently positioned as unable to reach one another. villanelle calls MI6, but they won't send her through to eve. eve arrives, but misses villanelle, and villanelle watches through the transparent but very real barrier of the car window, literally passing her by. then we have them separated by only a door in 2x03, and so many other instances of close-but-not quite.

it's worth bringing up at this juncture that while the villaneve plotline is happening, villanelle and eve each have their own individual character arcs, so while they keep glancing off each other and being torn apart in practice, they are steadily gravitating to a middle ground mentally and emotionally. i'll come back to this idea. in 2x05, we have yet another mirror/reflection, as the kitchen scene is revisited. having this reunion in the same setting as their first foregrounds how their relationship has changed. eve isn't anxious or fearful or on the back foot. she's the one who brings villanelle to her home, not the other way around, as it was last time. she reaches out to villanelle, she's confident enough to take the pills, and she doesn't hesitate before saying "yes" when villanelle asks if eve will give her everything she wants. the "yes" is easy, because whether eve is quite ready to admit it or not, what villanelle wants is what eve wants. 

then villanelle helps eve with the ghost, and going forward, they're able to regularly collaborate, in their own off-beat fashion. so after 2x05, villanelle and eve are more or less settled as fixtures in their respective lives. there's still the dance, but there's no real chase. they've drawn abreast of one another. they've caught up. and this is where we circle back to the idea of copies. like i said, ever since eve has been real to villanelle, copies have been insufficient. but she still can't have eve, not entirely, and not exactly how she wants, so she escalates to proxies. in 2x06, villanelle mouths, "ready?" to eve, right before pushing amber's bodyguard in front of the truck. i'm not trying to imply that villanelle wants to push eve in front of a truck -- but as i said earlier, villanelle and eve intersect at this overlap of violent delights/violent ends. sex and death. she asks her Copy Eve in 2x03 "ready?" in just the same way. villanelle is demonstrating her faith in the depth of their connection in the extremity of her actions. she's proving to eve that they're for-better-or-worse now. she's not afraid that killing someone right in front of eve will drive her away; she knows it'll suck her in. 

so what's the significance of the shift from copies to proxies? the copies were for villanelle -- a stand-in so that she could act out her desires. it's much more reflective of the "i / it": if someone looked like eve, then it was almost as if she had the real thing, right? but her affection for eve mutates into something much harder for her to manage, and "it" very quickly becomes "eve", and she can't produce a facsimile that can hold a candle to "me / eve". but the proxies aren't for villanelle, they're for eve. if villanelle's not allowed to touch eve yet, then she's using the proxies to say, "this is how much i care. this is how much i want you." and on a subliminal level at least, if not a conscious one, i think eve interprets it that as such. then, finally, we get to 2x07. we have a repetition of the phone call from 2x02, and just as carolyn played eve the recording of villanelle's MI6 call, villanelle listens to eve's voicemails. in this instance, they haven't missed each other. they're already together. the "9 missed calls, 3 voicemails" are an overture across space, but not across distance. this is about breaching an emotional gap, not a physical one. eve and villanelle are around each other often now, but it takes their being apart again to highlight just how much that proximity has allowed them to evolve.

in the restaurant in rome, we again have the visual of eve reaching out, villanelle catching her hand, and them meeting in the middle. which brings us to The Scene. it follows villanelle's crucial conversation with aaron (which I wrote about here), and that gives her a last little push. note: we have to remember that the bug that eve is listening through is only one way. while this might seem like a let-down, in that villanelle couldn't hear eve, i think it's actually really significant. because it shows how well villanelle knows eve, how much effort she puts into understanding her, and how easily she remembers things about her. in 2x06, eve was interjecting via the comms throughout almost the entirety of the aaron-villanelle-amber dinner conversation. that and the voicemails exemplify eve's involvement and propensity to hover, which is a result of her natural controlling tendencies, and how consumed she is with villanelle. so even though villanelle had no way of knowing that eve was listening, she knew anyway. she was sure with no feedback or guarantee. i love how they set this eve/hugo encounter up during previous episodes. it's something of a checkov's gun situation -- that is, the principle that if you introduce an idea (e.g. hugo's sexual interest in eve), then you need to bring it to fruition. what the writers did so well, though, is that we thought hugo had already served his purpose as a romantic/sexual option -- when he leans in to kiss eve in 2x04 and she doesn't lean away, we have evidence of how little commitment she still has to her marriage. but now he becomes eve's proxy.

so why have eve hookup with hugo, and not villanelle? well, there are a lot of reasons. firstly, eve and villanelle having sex, or even kissing, would be a very significant development for the show, and have massive implications for the narrative. as a result, it would need a lot of build-up. the circumstances would need to be perfect. while eve is no longer shying from her attraction to villanelle, i think a mixture of adrenaline and tension would have to reach terminal velocity (probably by introducing an external stressor, like a fight or escape) for eve to actually step over that line. i don't think that, at this point, it's something she'd do with a perfectly clear head. she's too aware of how precarious the current balance is, and probably (quietly) also too afraid that giving in would mean villanelle's obsession would have closure, and thus die off. the episode just didn't have the minutes to generate that situation, and the plot didn't give an avenue for it.

secondly, it gives the writers a lot more room to play with the respective aftermaths. this way, they get to bring in 

1) a fallout of some kind between hugo and eve. hugo's been very laissez-faire all season about sex, about boredom, etc., going on about how he understands why eve took the job at MI6, and her interest in villanelle. but until this point, it's been pretty much all fun and games, all james bond for hugo. and then he's going to have this moment where he realises he and eve AREN'T alike. he's a good-time guy, a bit selfish, and smart enough to need an entertaining career to keep stimulated. eve? it goes SO much further than that for eve. she really is on that sociopathy/psychopathy spectrum, and she needs this to feel awake, to feel anything. in their sex scene, their dynamic flickered into an "i / it" for eve, because hugo as a person didn't really matter at all. he's going to see the exact scope and depth of eve's obsession, and he'll realise she's gone beyond where he can follow. first niko, then hugo -- they're both ferrymen who tag along for a piece of eve's journey, but ultimately stay behind. they give an important reference point for the audience; they act as thresholds we see eve pass -- here, something niko can't condone; now, something hugo won't do.

2) the no-morning-after for villaneve. this doesn't relieve any of the sexual tension, it ratchets it up. like the stab wound, this connects them, but it doesn't resolve anything. the writers now have so many options: maybe a little awkwardness from eve (unlikely), intensifying chemistry (very likely), perhaps denial, or a desperation to get alone and take things to the next level. this didn't close a door, it opened several. they'll be able to draw villaneve out even more, and they'll neatly sidestep both audience expectation and television tradition. it's their game now.

here, hugo also has metaphorical signifiance -- he's the human cost of villaneve. over the course of the show, bodies, careers, and relationships have all imploded to get villaneve even just close enough to touch. villanelle and eve are using hugo directly just as they've indirectly used many others. note: symbolically, as well, villanelle is in eve's head. this feeds into the notion of obsession -- since the pilot, villanelle has consumed eve's thoughts, and now she's actually there. finally, above all, i believe this encounter perfectly fits the current phase of their relationship, and its evolution. it's the culmination of copies and proxies and distance. like i said, that apartness is just as critical to villaneve as the togetherness. they are as made of their negative space as they are of their lines and colours. and here they are: after pretending different people are each other, after being pressed together but stepping away again, after using others as mediums to express themselves, after being chased and caught, lost and found. here they are: together and apart at once. 

not only is this thematic, it's romantic, in its own twisted way. fifteen episodes later, they are even sharper reflections of each other than they were when they met. they're in sync even with such little communication, and that stands in contrast to their additional relationships. niko and eve could be in the same room, talking directly, and be less connected. and that's kind of tragic -- that eve went through so much of her life NOT wide awake, that niko spent years with someone who wasn't really WITH him. villanelle and eve are all hot and cold, entirely comprised of extremes, because that's what they NEED to feel alive. villanelle says in 2x06, "like us, you mean". and that's exactly it: fundamentally, villanelle and eve are the same kind, and that's why they are so good together. it's how they stay so good apart.

will these violent delights have violent ends? unquestionably. but those ends will be new beginnings. eve won't go back to sleep. villanelle could never cope with being bored again. they'll push and pull, fight and fuck, get mad and get in deeper, inextricable. they'll keep chasing the delights and weathering the consequences, getting wilder and wilder until something happens that they can't shake off or walk away from. but that's how they are, that's how they're happy, and that's the only way they can be. 

i hope all this held together! I had a lot of thoughts and it was hard to compress into one short essay, so I know it seems like a lot of disconnected threads rip. as always, reply/ask/message me with ideas/requests if you have something you want me to talk about! thank you to everyone who has commented nice things on my previous posts; it makes me want to write more and it’s nice to know someone’s reading :D

[otomememento]

Quest for Knowledge

Cybird Creative Challenge: Day 17 - Bound

(Continued from: A Proposition)

It had been a week since Oliver last saw Audrey.  A week during which his mind poured over her question and came to one conclusion: he didn’t have enough information.  But instead of daunting him, it intrigued him.  If he asked her to fill in the gaps, what would she tell him?  And he would be lying to himself if he didn’t often replay their previous interactions in his head.  If he had to be stuck with someone long term, Audrey didn’t seem like bad company; she would definitely keep things from getting too dull.

All the secrets he kept locked inside made him wary of women; the desires that seemed so natural during the evening were just awkward while he was in a youth’s body.  Anyone who looked his age during the day would be way too young: girls with innocent dreams of their romantic futures had little to do with someone his age.  But the women who were actually his age would be put off by the body of a boy barely in his teens.

He couldn’t say if he wanted to be a vampire or not, he didn’t know the details of such a life.  But he could decide, at the very least, whether he wanted his curse to be conquered.  It hadn’t seemed so bad at first; he could retain some of his child-like wonder during the day, but switching back and forth made things hard.  And he didn’t age normally between times.  Each day, his time was effectively reset.  He wouldn’t grow old and die anyhow.  The question came down to whether being a blood thirsty predator was better than being a child.  Audrey didn’t seem to have any trouble blending in; she didn’t burn in the sunlight like the creatures from horror stories would.

Even though he had predetermined this, Oliver found that his throat caught when Audrey showed up.  He had been so certain he could coolly and calmly pose his questions to her, but his tongue felt dry and stuck to the roof of his mouth.  Audrey smiled; it was one of her softer ones.  The kind that made it easier to believe she was more than just a thirsty seductress.

“Have you thought about my question?” she asked, her tone serious, but not quite severe.

“I have.”

“What do you think about it?”

“I said I thought about it; I didn’t say I had an answer,” Oliver replied with half a smile.

“That is more than fair,” Audrey said.  Did she look a little disappointed?  “I really wouldn’t expect you to jump at the chance.”

“I wouldn’t jump at anything that I didn’t have enough information on,” pointed out Oliver.  Audrey stared at him for a couple beats, then laughed.

“Ahhhh.  Of course not!”  She shook her head.  “It’s very sensible of you.  But, I hope you’re not too sensible.  After all, you have been called the Mad Hatter.  One has to be at least a little mad to survive this way.”

“Sensible.  Hmph,” said Oliver.  “I wouldn’t say that I’m always sensible, but being in Cradle has made me cautious.”  He shrugged his shoulders.

“Very well.  If you want to know something, then ask.”  Audrey opened her arms in a gesture of welcoming.  “I didn’t make the offer in jest.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure where to start,” Oliver admitted.

“Just start with whatever is on your mind.  Don’t worry about it being reasonable; you can make sense of it afterwards.  I won’t scold you for re-asking a question, or looking for clarification.”  She lowered her voice a trifle.  “Unless you want me to, that is.”

“Then I might as well tackle the biggest problem first.”  His eyes narrowed slightly.  “Blood: how much will I need and how will I get it.”

“Straight to the point.  And you managed it without flinching, which is a very promising start.”

“No sense in being squeamish about it.  If we’re serious, then it would be a sure sign I’m not ready if it made me too uncomfortable.”  He shifted slightly.  “Not that I’m entirely comfortable with the idea, but I consider myself open minded, if nothing else.”

“You’ve pretty much had to be,” murmured Audrey softly.  She nodded her head in approval.  “Well, the first week will be the hardest.  You’ll need to take blood nightly as your body is making the transition.  There will be some aches and pains, but I wouldn’t say it’s unbearable.  During that time, you’ll get most of your blood directly from me.”  She sighed.  “When it happened to me, I was in quite a panic because I was told nothing.  I had to learn everything the hard way while my creator just watched and laughed.  I wouldn’t do that to someone else.”  

Her eyes grew distant for a while as her mind scanned back through her memories.  Oliver let her take her time.  She continued a few minutes later.  

“After that first week, it’s a good idea to take blood every other night, just as you get used to things.  The hungrier we are, the harder it is to control ourselves.  But, for a new vampire, it can be difficult to feed if you’re not a little hungry.  This is less of a physical precaution, and more of a psychological one.  Most of us are raised from a young age to think that attacking other people is generally a bad idea.  Drinking blood from another person would be considered aberrant at best, and evil at worst.”

Audrey reached up and caressed Oliver’s cheek; he found himself leaning into the contact.  He had gotten so good at keeping his distance; he found it far to easy to seek out her touch now that she had opened the door on the experience.  His only worry is that it might cloud his judgment on the current topic.

“Typically, in the past, I got blood by skulking around and taking people unawares, just like a thief.  Only I wasn’t stealing mere objects.  I had to be careful not to let my face be shown.”  She smiled faintly.  “Sometimes, I attracted men to me.  Sometimes I would creep into a person’s house while they were asleep.”   She shook her head.  “With the magic around, it is a bit riskier, but I’ve also met with a lot less revulsion.  People may be afraid of what I am, but so far no one has tried too hard to get rid of me.”  She paused a beat.  “At least, not for being a vampire, at any rate.”

Oliver listened with quiet patience.  The information she gave was good, but he was equally interested in the little insights into Audrey’s personality, and past, that went along with it.  His life would be in her hands, and so he was watching for any red flags, any sign that this would be something he would deeply regret.  So far, he didn’t get such an impression.  He nodded his head to show he understood, and he pursed his lips as he thought what else he wanted, needed, to know.

“So, you’re suggesting I do all, or some, of those things?” he asked tentatively.  Audrey shook her head.

“It’s not so much a suggestion as a retelling of my experience.  The thing about blood is, it tastes different depending on the emotions of a person.  Depending on the emotional flavors you learn to like, your style of hunting will change.  I fed on sleeping people because their blood was often peaceful, quiet.  I lured people in because I prefer the taste of desire over the taste of fear or anger.”  Her expression darkened slightly.  “My maker liked the taste of fear; I’ve never cared for it.  Anger, on the other hand, has a rather unpredictable reaction in me.  I don’t know if it’s the same for others.”  She frowned, her brows drawing together.  “He also made me experience any number of emotions, doing questionable things to get the humans to ‘feel’ just right.”  Her lips twitched; for a brief moment Oliver saw a true look of hatred in her face.

Audrey didn’t go into deeper detail, but Oliver could read between the lines.

“Yet you would still turn someone else into the same thing?” he asked.

“It does get lonely, being this way,” Audrey said, speaking plainly.  “But because of your situation, you seem the best candidate.”

“And what does that mean to you?  What will…turning me into a vampire signify?”  It wasn’t the nature of the creature he was asking about now; it was a question about Audrey.  About Oliver.

“It means nothing you don’t want it to mean,” Audrey said.  Then, seeing Oliver was not amused at her vague answer, she sighed.  “It does not create an artificial bond,” she began to explain.  “You will not feel any differently towards me afterwards, nor I to you, except that which is based in experience.  We will only be bound together by those things we have in common.  As I said before, it will be difficult at first, and you will likely rely quite a bit on me.  Once you grow accustomed to things, your fate is your own.  If that means you want to continue to share my company, then it can mean closeness.  If you decide that you wish to go your own way, I will respect your wishes.”  Even though her voice was calm, Oliver was sure he saw sadness in her eyes when Audrey mentioned the option of leaving her.

“So I would not belong to you?”  Oliver wasn’t sure how he felt about that.  Perhaps deep down he wanted there to be something unbreakable between them.

“Never.  You will always be your own man Oliver.  I wouldn’t have offered if it could take that away from you,” she said.  “But I will always be the one who made you, and we will always have our ties to London.  Unnatural as we may be, there are natural things that bind us, which is as it should be.”

Oliver was quiet for some time.  Audrey stood up and went to the window, looking outside as if to give him the illusion of privacy while he organized his thoughts.

“I just need a little more time to think,” he finally said.  Audrey merely nodded from where she was pressed against the window.  She was in no hurry; both of them would be the same tomorrow as they were now.  And the day after that, and the day after that.  Time bound them together as well.

[thursdays-fallen-angel]

Peace-Weaver, Part 1

Happy birthday, @saltnhalo! I hope you like this, because it’s the best I have to offer. Congrats on being old, fren. <3

(King!Alpha!Cas, Prince!Omega!Dean; 7.3k)

AO3 Link

"Your majesty?”

Castiel hums, but doesn’t look up from his book. It’s not actually all that engaging, but it’s certainly easy to pretend that it is.

“Your majesty, are you even listening to me?”

The condescending tone that laces those words is what finally gets the king to look up, his eyes immediately locking on those of his advisor with a sharp glare. He had been listening, as a matter of fact—he heard every word of Metatron’s drabble about the tenuousness of his position, the need to marry sooner than later, the swelling rumors of a war being started against him by the kingdom to the north. He heard it all.

He just doesn’t care.

Except, that’s not quite true. Castiel cares about his position, and he cares about the safety of his kingdom, but he doesn’t care for the pitch Metatron is giving that, in essence, is a sly ruse designed to get the king to agree to marry his advisor’s daughter.

Metatron isn’t the first to try such a thing, nor will he be the last. He will also not be the last to fail.

Castiel may be an unmarried alpha king, but no matter how incompetent to rule the people of the land might think him, both in his kingdom and beyond it, he has no intentions of giving into the clever puppeteers trying to tie their strings to him. An alpha he may be, but no matter the reputation that precedes his gender, he is not going to be pliant. He is not going to let his lack of omega intelligence doom his kingdom, and his family’s legacy.

After all, the kingdom did not ask for their true leaders to be killed.

Castiel stands and tosses his now-closed book onto the desk. “You are dismissed, Metatron. I have a prior engagement; if you’ll excuse me.”

He ignores Metatron’s offended stuttering as he leaves the study, striding out of the room without a backwards glance. The guards posted at the door will ensure Metatron exits after him in a timely manner, even if his advisor somehow worked up the gall to make use of the king’s study for personal gain, the guards would prohibit him.

Metatron is a slimy beta who cannot be trusted, but the members of the guard are alpha through and through, and loyal to a fault. He will always be thankful for that.

That being said, it is remarkably easy for Castiel to get away from the guards’ ever-vigilant views and slip off into the woods on his horse, unseen. He left only a word with his stable master to let the message be passed along that he would return in a day or two, but doesn’t bother giving anyone any more than that. He doesn’t want to be followed, and he certainly doesn’t want to be criticized.

Even just the journey out through the woods does wonders to boost Castiel’s spirits, as it always does. The distance from the castle may not truly relieve him of his problems, but having the space to think, to breathe, more than makes it worth his effort.

He only wishes that he had something to think about other than his troubles, when he takes these sorts of breaks.

However, given the fact that everything Castiel ever knew came crumbling down when his parents died, he supposes a bit of stress over his fate is one of the better things he could have asked for.

Considering his parents’ importance, it was never much of a surprise that his world crumbled as completely as it did. Any time a kingdom loses its queen and king, there are bound to be repercussions, just as there have been every day of the year that has passed since that wretched shipwreck. There will always be desperate bids for power, in situations such as this one, will always be crimes against the crown even while that crown is shrouded in a mourning veil. And most importantly of all, there will always be attempts to exploit the heirs to the throne.

Or in Castiel’s case, heir. Singular.

He always knew his position was tenuous—as the lone, unwed child of Naomi and Cain Novak, his chances of exploitation were always particularly high. The kingdom of Eden may not be the largest, but it has a long history of wealth and strength, situated on land rich with resources and very nearly impenetrable, thanks to its mountainous border. The long, unbroken line of strong, omega rulers who have sat on the throne for more consecutive generations than any other royal family in the land has also attributed to Eden’s reputation, giving it an edge that has done a great deal to prevent people from taking advantage of the Novaks’ power.

Even before the shipwreck, it was widely considered to be a tragedy that the renowned Naomi Novak left only an alpha son as her heir.

The day Castiel had presented alpha had been one of the worst of his life. There had been complications with his birth which had left his mother unable to conceive more children after him, eliminating the possibility of younger siblings to help carry on the Novak line. Both of his parents had hoped he would present omega, had been sure that it would happen—he was so very similar to his mother, after all—but shortly before his fifteenth birthday, it became clear that he wasn’t similar enough to her. His genetics favored brawn over brain, as evidenced by the rut he fell into, and he had never seen his mother more disappointed in all his life. His lessons of regality and leadership fell to the wayside, and a sword was shoved into his hands the minute he was back on his feet.

That was the first time his world had crumbled.

Now, looking back, he isn’t sure which instance is worse. Naomi’s disappointment in him was always a sore point, and their relationship never quite recovered, but at least she was there. She and his father both.

Castiel constantly spends his time wishing that things were different. He’d been too shell-shocked for the first week or so after the news reached him that his parents’ ship never reached its destination across the sea to properly react, but when the day came for his coronation—a rushed, harried affair, put together only once the reality of Naomi and Cain’s death became unavoidable and unease over a lack of proper ruler began to fester—it hit him in full. When the head priest lowered Cain’s former crown onto Castiel’s head at the end of the ceremony, he was overwhelmed with dread, instead of the pride that his mother always spoke of.

He wished he could have been the omega his mother wanted. He wished she hadn’t died while still dissatisfied with him. He wished that her last living thought couldn’t have possibly been regret over the inevitable end of her family’s legacy.

Castiel may be of age, a man grown, but without an omega at his side, without someone to wear Eden’s real crown, he doesn’t stand a chance. He was trained to be a fighter and made to expect to rear children while his future mate ran the kingdom; it was never expected that he would rule on his own, and his lack of education on the subject reflects that. What little teaching his parents drip-fed him before he presented covered the basics of the kingdom’s workings, but while that can keep him afloat, it won’t do so indefinitely.  

From the moment Castiel knelt in the church and rose as a king, the members of his newly-inherited court were ogling the dull silver of his alpha crown. For that very reason, he hardly wears the thing. It sits too heavily on his brow, draws all the wrong kind of eyes. It makes him look more like the stand-in that he is, instead of the ruler he should be.

It’s all so draining to think about.

And that, of course, is why he comes here—a hunting cabin commissioned by Cain when he first came to Eden, and one of the man’s best-kept secrets. It’s near the border, almost dangerously so, but it’s quiet, private, and utterly devoid of people who need to be impressed. When Castiel finally rides into the clearing, the site of the small house alone is enough to begin easing the tension that perpetually resides at his core.

Out here, there are no withering glares resentful of his crown, or greedy advisors angling to steal it for themselves. There is no need for him to hide parts of himself to fit the role he is expected to play because of his alpha designation.

He can be himself. And gods, does he love even that small freedom.

Castiel dismounts from his horse as soon as he has broken through the tree line, leaving the animal to wander for the time being, and makes his way up to the door of the familiar, stone cabin. Back at the castle, everything reminds him of his mother, but here? Everything about this place is Cain, from the overgrown garden situated between the cabin and the lake beyond, to the buzz of the bees the older alpha once regularly cared for, to the simplistic layout of the living space that awaits Castiel when he finally gets the cabin’s door open. He never spent much time here prior to his parents’ deaths, mostly only visiting when he was young and Naomi was too busy with her queenly duties for Castiel to even be near, but even still, the place feels like home in a way the empty castle never quite can.

He takes a few steps into the cabin and starts to disrobe—there’s no need for him to be wearing finery here at the cabin, as the silk of his tunic certainly is—but before he can even get his tunic halfway off, he hears a quick scuffle like that of footsteps, and the unmistakable sound of a closing door.

Castiel goes absolutely still. Even his breaths are silent as he listens, all of his senses straining as he attempts to pick out the cause of the sound or any indication of a repeat. When he hears nothing, he inhales deeply through his nose, then swears under his breath.

He hadn’t taken enough stock of the small cabin when he first entered, but doing so now, he cannot believe how much he failed to notice.

Someone else is already there.

There isn’t much to learn of the intruder from their residual scent alone, but it does provide just enough of a trail for Castiel to be able to find the person’s hiding place with ease. The bedroom door is closed; Castiel waits outside of it for only a moment before gently pushing it open. He’s still on high alert as he steps into the room. The intruder’s scent is more concentrated in here, though whether that’s because the source is nearby or because it’s woven into the sleep-rumpled bed, Castiel cannot yet determine.

He takes another cautious step into the room, and gets a dagger pressed to the underside of his jaw for his efforts.

“Make one wrong move and you’re dead,” a voice growls in his ear. “I don’t know what you were thinking, coming in here, but there’s nothing for you to gain, here.”

Castiel narrows his eyes, but despite the threat being levelled against him, he holds as still as he can. He isn’t in a mood to be murdered, even if he has a feeling he could put his training to use and overcome his attacker if need be. He isn’t so stupid as to underestimate a complete stranger.

He takes a breath, and his eyes go wide.

The man behind him is an omega.

Castiel tilts his chin up and slowly raises his hands in a show of innocence. “I bear you no ill-will. You are in my home; I didn’t know that you were here.”

“Your home?” the man repeats. “Fuck.” The dagger drops away from Castiel’s throat. “Fuck. Figures that you come back now, then. Just my luck.”

When the man withdraws, Castiel finally has the opportunity to turn and look at him. His breath nearly catches when he does; even for an omega, the stranger in his cabin is a beautiful one, with golden skin and bright, entrancing eyes. That isn’t, though, what truly gets the alpha’s attention.

“You’re hurt,” he says, rather dumbly. The omega is wearing a white undershirt bearing no coloring or affiliation to any house, but the plain white of the fabric makes the blood stain across his hip that much more obvious. Castiel raises his eyes back to the omega’s, and when he sees how guarded the man is, he doesn’t even have to think before offering, “There should be bandages here, if you will allow me to help you. A change of clothes, as well.”

The omega’s hand moves to hover over his wound, but even just from the way he doesn’t actually touch it, Castiel can tell that it’s serious. Without the defensive posture, too—though the omega is still clutching his dagger like a lifeline, and Castiel can’t quite blame him for that—it becomes obvious that he’s favoring his right leg over his left, and his weapon hand trembles.

“I’m in your home without permission, and yet you’d help me?” the omega asks. When Castiel nods, his eyes narrow and he asks, “Are you a noble?”

Castiel wets his lips. “Near enough. You may call me Cas.”

No one save his father has ever called him by the nickname, and he feels it’s appropriate to the location. Furthermore, though, it will help him to keep his identity to himself.

This strange omega does not need to know that the alpha whose home he invaded is the king of Eden. If he does not know on his own, then Castiel is not obligated to tell him, and would definitely prefer not to.

A few beats of silence pass between them before the omega nods. “Cas,” he repeats, testing the name on his tongue, “alright. I would appreciate your help. You can call me Dean.”

“Dean.” It’s a simple name, not quite befitting of a man who is clearly anything but plain himself, but thankfully Castiel manages to stop himself from saying just that. He inclines his head in the direction from which he just came, toward the cabin’s main living space. “If you’d like to sit at the table, I’ll go get water from the lake, and find the bandages when I return. I’m not a healer by any means, but I’m sure I’ll be able to help in some way, at least.”

Although he still seems hesitant, Dean nods again. “Thank you.”

Castiel answers him with a small smile. He might not know this omega or even have any specific reason to need to help him, but he’s in Castiel’s land and needs help, and that is justification enough in the alpha’s mind. He leaves the bedroom, trusting Dean to follow him out to the aforementioned table. “Sit, and take your shirt off so that I can get a proper look at your wound. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He does not delay in fetching the water that he promised to get, but once he’s outside, Castiel certainly does not hurry, either. He carries a container from the house out to the lake and lets it fill with crisp, clear water, then slowly makes his way back up to the cabin. Only once he’s sure Dean has had the opportunity to leave if he so desires does Castiel go back inside.

Much to his surprise, Dean is sitting at the table with his shirt off.

It’s only when his shock at that fact has him stilling in place that Castiel realizes just how convinced he was that Dean was going to leave. He would have been sure of it.

Not that he’s complaining.

With his shirt removed, it’s easy to see just how hurt Dean is, and subsequently imagine how it must have happened. The cut in his side is deep and jagged—clearly the work of close-quarters situation with a sloppy opponent. Taken into consideration with the few other bruises littering Dean’s torso, and Castiel has no doubt that the omega was in a fight he wasn’t prepared for.

Castiel gets the rest of the materials he needs and then settles onto the stool next to the one Dean has already claimed, the bucket of water ready and waiting beside his foot. Dean holds himself stiffly, but aside from a minor, seemingly involuntary flinch when Castiel firsts touches a water-soaked strip of cloth to the torn flesh just below his ribs, he doesn’t object to the care he is being given. He simply grits his teeth and bears his way through it.

Castiel can’t help but be endeared by the silent show of strength.

He gets midway through bandaging the wound by the time Dean speaks.

“You always this nice to strangers, Cas?”

Castiel pauses and glances up at him. “Do you mean to harm me?”

Dean blinks. A crease forms at the center of his brow. “No.”

“And you came into this house because you needed a place to recover, did you not?”

“I did.”

Castiel smiles. “Then I don’t see why I shouldn’t be nice to you. You have done nothing wrong on my account. I came out here to escape the stress of my everyday life, and as far as I can see, this is distracting me just as well as gardening would.”

Dean doesn’t seem much less confused by that. “And… That’s your alpha scent I can smell, right?”

“Are you asking me if I am an alpha?” Castiel sits up straighter, an eyebrow arching as he considers that. He’s never had his secondary gender questioned. He’s never been around anyone who didn’t know, and who didn’t know what was intrinsically expected of him because of that. “Why do you not believe that I am?”

Dean stares at him for a moment longer, but ultimately shakes his head. “Nothing. Just—you mind finishing this up? I twisted my ankle up pretty good, so I think I’m gonna need your help with that next.”  

Castiel’s interest over the question of his gender has not subsided, but he has the good grace to let the subject pass. He nods as he returns to his task of wrapping the bandage around Dean’s middle, and finds another way to fill the air between them.

“What happened to you?” he asks, then for clarification when Dean merely blinks at him, “To lead you here, I mean. In this state. Considering the help I’m providing you, I believe a story is the least you can give me in return.”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” The words are flat, but when Castiel glances up to make sure he hasn’t actually offended his houseguest by asking such a question, he finds the ghost of a smile curling the omega’s lips. It highlights his natural beauty. “I guess it is the least I can do, isn’t it. You drive a hard bargain, Cas.”

Castiel shrugs. He’s actually hoping in large part to learn who Dean is, where he came from, and he assumes that that will be easiest to glean by retracing the omega’s steps. He finishes with the main bandage and seals it off, then slides down onto the floor so that he can examine Dean’s ankle.

Dean makes an odd sound in the back of his throat, then pointedly clears it. Castiel’s gaze raises in time for him to see the omega wet his lips.

“I was, uh—on a trip. Long story short, I was fighting with my mom, and came to Eden a bit… hotheaded.”

Castiel runs his tongue along the front of his teeth. “Where are you from, if not Eden?”

From the way Dean hesitates, Castiel suspects he hadn’t meant to reveal his foreignness. He assesses the alpha knelt before him for a long moment, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, then seemingly comes to the conclusion that the truth is acceptable to share. Castiel can see the resolution of it in his eyes before he finally pulls Dean’s pant leg up to examine his (very swollen) ankle, an excuse for the king to keep his own reactions from being just as easily read.

“I’m from Campbell,” Dean confesses. Castiel forces himself to nod; he cannot be sure whether it is a good or bad thing that Dean is only from just across the border. The omega continues while Castiel prods at his ankle, “My point, though, was that I was hot-headed when I left, so I wasn’t on my guard. I was jumped by a group of bandits just as I got to Eden’s border. I held my own for a bit, took a few out, but in the end, I was too outnumbered. I wasn’t going to beat them all. I ran, lost them in the woods, and was just about to pass out from blood loss or exhaustion or both when I found your house. Walls, a roof, and a clean bed are probably the only reasons I survived.” Dean clears his throat, the sweet, vanilla undertone of his scent momentarily spiking in what Castiel thinks is embarrassment before he tacks on, “Thank you for that, by the way.”

For the span of a few heartbeats, Castiel is struck silent. There is so much information in that for him to process, and the density of it keeps him from finding his tongue right away. Dean being from Campbell doesn’t tell him much. He hasn’t had any contact with the ruling family since his coronation, and knows little about them besides. He has been too busy with local affairs since his parents’ deaths to have time for such extraneous knowledge.

It is, however, interesting to know that Dean was able to fight off even some of his attackers when he was ambushed. While it explains the wounds Dean took on, omegas don’t tend to be fighters.

Now Castiel really wants to know where Dean came from.

“You’re welcome,” he eventually says back to the other man. Then, before the opportunity to ask can escape him, “Why were you coming to Eden?”

“I was…” Dean pauses, his previous hesitation returning. Castiel is too occupied with applying a tight wrap to the omega’s swollen ankle to look up and assess him this time—and he’s too silently pleased by the lack of pain he seems to be causing to disrupt the flow they’ve fallen into—but a few seconds of patience pay off, and Dean answers him without prompting. “There’s rumor that King Lucifer asked Queen Mary for assistance in warring for control of Eden. I know someone in Eden who I think deserves to have warning of that, if it’s really going to happen.”

A war for Eden.

Castiel may not know Queen Mary, but he knows plenty about King Lucifer, and as such, he doesn’t doubt the truth of Dean’s statement for a second. It leaves his ears ringing, and his tongue feels like cotton in his mouth.

If Lucifer attacks on his own, Eden might stand a chance. Castiel may not be the omega ruler his people need, but one of the few things he was taught was an understanding of the ways of war. He is not a brilliant tactician by any means, but Eden’s army is strong and skilled, comprised of the fiercest of warriors. With the help of his few omega generals, Castiel could possibly manage to save his kingdom from being obliterated.

But if Campbell’s army joins forces with Lucifer’s, Eden’s fate will already be sealed. Even if Naomi and Cain were still alive, two full-strength armies marching against their borders would be a terrible omen.

Dean may not know it, but he’s just warned Castiel of his own imminent death.

“…Cas? Cas, are you okay?”

The king looks up. His thoughts feel jumbled, yet simultaneously hollowed. He can hardly get them in order, and he certainly has no idea how many attempts Dean has made to get his attention. He suspects this isn’t the first.

“What cause would Queen Mary have to unite with King Lucifer?” Castiel asks, circumventing Dean’s concern all together. Maybe the omega will have an answer for him, maybe he will not, but regardless, it’s something Castiel needs to figure out for the sake of his own survival. If he has merely offended Mary, or can offer her some type of payment in exchange for an allegiance between them—

“She and Lucifer are convinced that Eden’s king isn’t fit to rule,” Dean says, cutting the head off of Castiel’s budding hope with a single, swift blow. “You know how alphas are supposed to be, with their tempers and stubbornness. Everyone knows that Queen Naomi was pretty desperate to find him an omega to give him some credibility, but once she died, even a letter already sitting on M—” He stumbles briefly, cheeks dusting pink. “Queen Mary’s desk wasn’t enough to make anything happen.”

Another jolt runs through Castiel at that. He’s sure his mother wouldn’t have called his potential marriage a bid for ‘credibility’, but he absolutely believes that she would have been making efforts to find a successor worthy of her. He wishes she had discussed such a thing with him. He wonders where the omega prince of Campbell might have fallen on her list of candidates.

Dean continues, oblivious to just how thoroughly he is turning Castiel’s world on its head.

“But anyways. Especially without anyone lined up to mate with, the king of Eden is easy picking, as far as King Lucifer seems concerned. He’s pretty confident that he can win.”

“No one has ever taken Eden,” Castiel counters. Gods, he feels lightheaded. “The Novak family has held the throne for thousands of years—”

Dean shakes his head. He’s thought about this a lot, it seems. “The Novak family doesn’t have anyone wearing the omega crown for the first time in all those thousands of years. Now there’s two other omegas who want a piece, and who’ve sat at Eden’s border and watched the Novaks thrive for generations. This is as good a chance as they’re going to get.”

He’s right. Of course Dean is right. Not only does he have far more insight into the situation than Castiel can hope for in his own right, but he also doesn’t have anything at stake; it’s easy for him to be level-headed. It’s one of the things omegas are best at.

Castiel takes a deep breath to steady himself. He pointedly doesn’t think about the fact that the pleasantness of Dean’s scent makes it easier to manage; true as it may be, acknowledging it gets him nowhere, and he doesn’t have time to waste on the matter. Not with all that Dean has told him.

There’s one detail in particular which pricks at him, tugs at his focus until he’s brought fully back to attention. Dean’s ankle is long since wrapped by this point, so Castiel lets go of it and returns to the stool so that the two of them can be on an equal level as the king presses for more details.

“Your intention was to come to Eden to warn someone.” It’s a statement, not a question. Castiel leans forward, watching Dean intently. “Are you not fully in support of a sacking of Eden? What are the chances that there are others of your same mindset, and that Mary could be persuaded from joining Lucifer?”

Dean’s eyes slide away, which is far from encouraging. “I have… personal reasons for being against a war with Eden. Unfortunately, I think more people in Campbell would be for it than against it.”

“Personal reasons?”

“Uh, well.” Dean rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Long story short, my mom was an omega who mated with a beta, and people always gave them shit for it. They thought she should have been with an alpha, didn’t think he was good enough, all that. Guess you could say it made me sympathetic to the underdogs of the world.”

“And who is the underdog in this situation?” Castiel asks. The fact about Dean’s parentage is interesting, but he’s not positive on how it relates.

Until, that is, Dean explains, “Eden’s alpha king. The problem is that everyone is assuming he’s not good enough because he’s an alpha, and I can’t be convinced that that’s fair. Not after seeing all the shit my dad went through, especially.”

Oh.

Castiel curls his fingers into his palms to stop the slight tremor he can feel in his hands. Dean doesn’t know him, not really, and yet here he is, in Castiel’s cabin, expressing more faith in him than anyone ever has before. He has no idea how to cope with that.

He decides to ignore it. Best not to let Dean know that he is affected, as he excuses it to himself. His identity is best left concealed.

It would feel deceitful, to tell Dean now.

“Queen Mary may be willing to support Lucifer, then,” he says, getting their conversation back on-track. “Will all of Campbell back such a movement simply because Mary Campbell has something to gain from it?”

“Winchester,” Dean interjects, then explains when Castiel frowns, “Her name is Mary Winchester. She took her mate’s name. Her parents weren’t pleased, but she did.”

“Oh.” Castiel presses his lips together, feeling like a fool. How did his parents neglect to tell him that? It doesn’t bode well for his relationship with Queen Mary. “I suppose I’m not as well-versed in foreign policy as I could be. I had just assumed…”

Dean waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. The queen is stubborn, and has a tendency to do whatever the hell she wants. Plenty of people probably didn’t pay attention to what she did when she was young.”

“I suppose.”

“To answer your question, though, yeah.” The omega makes a vague gesture, hands spreading out helplessly. “If the queen announces that she’s going to join forces with Lucifer to sack Eden, her people aren’t going to object. People like me might be against it, but I’m not calling the shots.”

“Damnit.” Castiel pushes up to his feet, frustration quickly rising to dangerous levels. He begins pacing the length of the room as he things, the motion helping him to balance as he tries to think.

A war coming from the kingdom to the south, a likely allegiance between that kingdom and the one to the west; who is there left for Castiel to call for help? Eden dominates the westernmost coast of the continent. There is a small section of border to the northeast that he shares with another kingdom, but even knowing admittedly little about Queen Anna, he knows that she doesn’t have the resources to support Eden in a war. Middleton has the smallest army in the land, only equipped for the needs of the equally small kingdom. Calling for Anna would not provide Castiel with any aid.

His parents used to have a good relationship with King Crowley and Queen Meg, but he is on the opposite border, too far to call on a moment’s notice. Coming up from behind the Campbell—Winchester—army might be an advantage, but it might also be a curse. Crossing Campbell’s lands to reach that point wouldn’t be an easy start, Mary would likely be infuriated, and the army Crowley would lead would end up having to fight just to be able to reach the fight. The odds of it working out are slim to none.

The kingdom across the sea is more foreign to him than any other. Whoever may be in charge there may possibly be in a position to help, located geographically as they are, but what are the odds that someone so removed from this continent would put their resources on the line to help someone they hardly know? Even the Novak family name is not worth that much.

Which means that Castiel is alone in this. Eden has no allies.

If he weren’t an alpha, this wouldn’t have happened.

His pacing comes to an abrupt halt, and he digs his fingers into his hair. “I have to go. I need to get to the capitol, I need to tell—”

“Whoa whoa, hey!”

Dean is on his feet and placing his hands on Castiel’s shoulders in an instant, cutting the king off before he can finish his sentence. I need to tell my council. Dean grabs his attention, though, and his touch helps to calm the racing of Castiel’s heart. Omega steadiness, ever-reliable.

“You’re not going anywhere tonight,” Dean tells him, tone leaving no room for argument. “Night is falling, it’s too dark for you to get anywhere safely. And you need to calm down and think about this, okay? I know the thought of war coming to your kingdom is terrifying, but you need to be realistic right now.”

Now that it has been pointed out, Castiel notices that the light of the sun has faded significantly. Dean is right, unsurprisingly. It seems to be a talent of his. Castiel may be stressed, but pushing himself and his horse into a moonlit race back to the castle would be dangerous and stupid. Nothing will be changed if he waits until morning. He sighs, scrubs his palms across his face, then reluctantly nods. Where did the day go? How did it end like this?

He tries not to think about it any more. Problems for tomorrow.

“Yes. Yes, we can discuss this more in the morning. You need rest to heal. You can sleep in the bed.”

Dean shifts back a step, careful not to put too much weight on his twisted ankle, and frowns at Castiel. “Where will you sleep, then?”

The king answers him with a tight smile. “You’re injured, and my guest here. You can sleep in the bed. I will sleep elsewhere.”

Dean shakes his head. “I’m not your guest, I’m an intruder. You’ve already been better to me than you needed to be. And you said yourself that you came out here for a chance to relax. Now you’re telling me you’re going to sleep on the ground, too? Not gonna happen.”

There’s a hint of trademark omega steel in Dean’s eyes as he speaks, and it utterly captivates Castiel, to the degree that forming even a partial objection proves difficult. The king wets his lips. “I will not allow you to sleep on the ground, either.”

“Alright, fine.” Dean shrugs, then turns on his good foot and starts toward the bedroom. “Guess we’ll just have to share.”

That single sentence wipes Castiel’s mind clean. He doesn’t quite know what he expected to come from quarreling over their sleeping arrangements, but this certainly wasn’t it. He stands rooted in place until Dean reaches the bedroom door and turns back to him, an eyebrow raised. Thanks to the dimming light, not even the bandages around his middle could stop Dean from looking like a god made flesh.

“You coming?” Dean asks, and that’s all it takes for Castiel to overcome his trepidations and follow the omega into the bedroom.

For as strange as it should be, though, the actual process of climbing into bed with a man he doesn’t know is surprisingly easy. Dean maintains his existing state of partial undress, but while Castiel chooses to remove his outer tunic, he leaves his undershirt in place to ensure there is no indecency between them.

He is, after all, a gentleman.

They settle in without issue, quietly intimate despite having no intentions to be just that. Lying together in the dark simply has that power of influence.

It almost feels too intimate, though. On the other half of the bed, Dean seems tense, coiled like he’s ready to eject himself from the situation if it somehow advances in a way he doesn’t approve of. It won’t, of course—Castiel would never so much as think of trying something—but they are still strangers to one another, so Castiel cannot say he blames the omega.

Castiel is still a bit tense in his own right from his near freakout over the fate of his kingdom. As such, plucking a subject out of thin air to reset the mood and distract them both from the messes in their heads strikes him as the best course of action available to him. He lets the first thing in his mind fall from his lips, words spoken softly into the dark of the bedroom.

“What was it you were fighting with your mother about when you left home yesterday?”

He can’t see the omega’s reaction, but Castiel certainly hears the click of his throat when he swallows. “I didn’t think you caught that,” he comments.

Castiel lifts a shoulder in a shrug, the sheets rustling along with the movement. “I’m a good listener.”

“Yeah, good listener,” Dean shoots back, “I’m sure that’s it.” He pauses for another moment, then sighs, and turns sober. “We were having a disagreement. She wants something that I don’t want, and she refuses to even listen to me about it. She expects me to obey her like everyone else does, and I won’t. Not when it goes against everything I believe in. I don’t care how pissed off she might be about it, either. I don’t have to listen to her.”

There’s more venom laced into Dean’s words than Castiel would have expected, given how amicable everything exchanged between them—greeting notwithstanding—has been thus far. Castiel understands being passionate about certain subjects, as well, but considering specifically what it is that has Dean upset, whether he understands or not, the king has to frown.

“Is this something that is worth fighting with your mother over?”

The bed shakes as Dean rolls to face him. Castiel glances sideways at him, and holds still in the face of Dean’s glare. “It is, actually, yes. She’s being a selfish, controlling, bitch.”

Castiel winces at the harshness of that word. “You don’t think it could be worth hearing her out?” he tries. “This is something that is worth having a soured relationship? Would you feel the same if it became permanent?”

Dean is quiet for a long moment. “You… Think I should do what she wants?”

“I think not reconciling with your mother can be a terrible thing.”

There’s another length of silence, then the unmistakable shuffling of Dean rolling back onto his back. His previous tension does not return, so even if there is now something else weighing on Dean’s mind, Castiel cannot bring himself to regret it. His advice was genuine; he wouldn’t wish his own pains on anyone, let alone someone who seems as genuine and kind as Dean does.

Castiel settles himself in, readying himself to actually get to sleep. His thoughts are still churning, but that is not enough to stop himself from trying to relax.

It’s odd, sleeping in a bed with another person. Not bad, by any means, as the warmth from another body warms him to his core and the sound of Dean’s every breath is like a lullaby in the quiet of the room, but Castiel has not shared a bed with anyone since he was a boy, likely whenever he last shared this very bed with his father on one of their trips—and that, of course, was very different.

After a few minutes, long enough that Castiel had been certain that Dean had dropped off to sleep beside him, the omega sucks a breath in through his teeth, then speaks out into the silence.

“You really think I should make up with my mom, Cas?”

It’s not hard to understand why that subject has apparently stuck in Dean’s mind. Castiel lets the depth of the question sink in for a moment.

“I believe,” he begins slowly, carefully choosing his words, “that that depends on your relationship with her, and the relationship you want to have going forward. It is hard to say for sure without knowing what you are fighting about, but…” He shifts, adjusting the blanket that’s stretched over them both before confessing, “I lost my mother, and there were many issues between us that I regret never having the chance to resolve because of that. She was disappointed that I am an alpha, and I never even had the chance to take a mate to earn back some of her favor. Not that that would have fixed all of our problems, but it would have been something. As it is, there’s nothing I can do about the regrets I have, and that haunts me most of all. So my advice would be… Don’t let yourself be set up for any similar regrets. Nothing is worth that.”

Dean doesn’t respond to that right away. As the silence stretches on, Castiel begins to suspect he won’t get a reply at all, but just as the king is resigning himself to that fate, Dean lets out a quiet sigh.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says. “I’ll talk to her when I get home. I’d rather not fight with her.” A beat passes, and he adds softly, “I’m sorry about your mom, Cas.”

The air leaves Castiel’s lungs all at once. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean hums, but when he curls in on himself to make himself more comfortable, Castiel knows that’s truly the end of the conversation. He listens to the steady rhythm of the omega’s, monitoring it as he drops off to sleep. Just before Castiel drops off to sleep, he swears he hears Dean say, “Night, Cas.”

He’s too far gone to respond in kind, but it warms him nonetheless.

When he wakes in the morning, Dean’s scent is wrapped around him, but the bedsheets beside him are long since cold. He doesn’t need to investigate any more than that to know that the omega is truly gone. He’s surprised that Dean stayed for as long as he did, after all, and logically, Castiel knows that his departure is probably for the best. As much as he might already enjoy Dean’s company, even just after a few hours, he doesn’t have the privilege of time to further appreciate it any further.

Wherever Dean is from, wherever he is returning to, he will be better off there. If war is to come to Eden. Dean is best to stay away, and to stay safe. Being involved with Castiel to any degree would only jeopardize that safety.

And that is something that Castiel does not need more time with Dean to recognize that he refuses to do.

He lies in bed for longer than he should, breathing in Dean’s lingering scent until it begins to fade. It provides him time to avoid thinking about his fate. Time to fantasize about what other courses his life could have taken.

He makes a pledge to himself, then and there.

If he wins the war, the first thing he will do is locate Dean. He’ll search all of Campbell if he has to, but no matter what, he won’t let Dean slip away from him completely.

Once his resolve has been made, Castiel sends a silent prayer up to the gods. If he is going to win—to survive—he is going to need the support of the entire pantheon.

He has a feeling that Dean will be worth the effort.