#i would read it again just to catch all the parallels and symbolism

[midwesternfields]

BOOK REVIEW 📖

Last year I kept track of the series & films I watched; this year I've decided to keep track of whatever books I read! So this one is for the month of January – I'll share these sometime after the month is over, or if I read more than one book during the month, I will do their reviews as soon as I finish the book :)

[frangipanilove]

How TBOC 2x5 explain how Beth survived after 5x8 Coda

(And how Ash and Daryl deliver some of the season's finest Beth callbacks and dialogue parallels)

Spoilers for TBOC 2x5 and 2x6 below, beware!

Because this episode hasn’t aired yet, I’m not going to dwell on where we are in the plot, because it’s not terribly important in this context. This is mostly about some very specific Beth callbacks and dialogue parallels from 2x5 and 2x6, and I’ll just jump right into the narrative.

So, Daryl and Carol are out looking for Ash. He’s their pilot and obviously they need him to get home to the US. He was supposed to stay by the plane, but when they return to where it’s hidden, he’s “just gone”. They ask around, and get intel suggesting he might be at Maison Mere. They go there to search for him. They can’t find him immediately, but from a window they can see something that catches their attention:

Daryl remarks “there definitely someone in there”!

An image like this should scream “suspicious” to everyone who’s followed TD for any length of time. While all us TD’ers probably have our own individual theories on how Beth survived, there seem to be consensus around the fact that the trunk of a car would most likely be involved somehow. We’ve also seen from the flashbacks in 5x9 WHAWGO that they at some point were overwhelmed by walkers, so the theory was quickly formed that most likely, they initially meant to bury her, but were overrun by a walker horde, and had to leave her behind to escape the horde and save themselves. They put her in the trunk of a car, or inside the back of a car, with the intention of returning for her when the walker horde had passed. But when they did return, she was “just gone”.

I’ve previously written a bunch of theories around suspicious cars. I personally believe that officer Lichari’s Dodge Magnum could potentially be THE car she was put in, because we’ve had a lot of symbolism around Dodges, and we’ve seen a lot of symbolism around rams, which is the Dodge logo. We actually saw this symbolism at play as recently as in TBOC 2x1, when Carol misspoke and called a car a Dodge, while it definitely was a Ford Mustang (which are also cars steeped in resurrection symbolism, read more here).

Back to TBOC 2x5. Daryl and Carol decide to investigate the suspicious car that is swarmed by walkers. Our first hint of some serious Sirius symbolism ahead, is the dog eating walkers as Daryl comes through a tunnel on his way to the car. Beth’s is a Sirius figure on the show, and Sirius refers to the Dog Star that disappears from the night sky for a while, only to “resurrect” some time later. It’s resurrection symbolism.

Daryl approaches the car, systematically taking out the walkers. Carol is right behind him.

Once they make it inside, they find none other than Ash. Unconscious, but alive. He got knocked out when he hit his head on the car door.

Let me pause here for a minute. If you were tasked with writing a scene where an unconscious Ash in a car specifically were meant to represent Beth after Coda, and he needed some visible evidence of the cause of his unconscious state. Where would you place the head wound? Would you place it exactly where Beth got shot? Yes you probably would, wouldn’t you?

And if you were to further enhance the connection to Beth, would you have him say one of her iconic lines as he woke up? Again, yes, you probably would:

Carol is thrilled to find him alive. She offers a tentative diagnosis, which I believe very well could be the diagnosis Beth would have received after her close but not fatal encounter with a bullet in Coda:

And now they need to get out. They’re stuck in a car, which I’ve often likened to a tomb, because of the resurrection symbolism they’re surrounded by:

We see imagery which we’ve seen in scenes and episodes where there’s a heavy presence of Beth/resurrection symbolism...

…such as here from 5x9 WHAWGO (which I've written about here)

Which is interesting, because WHAWGO also happens to be the episode right after Beth was "killed" and supposedly placed in the trunk of a car. It's the episode where she was last seen, in a hallucination, playing a guitar:

...which again is super interesting, considering how in 2x6, Daryl randomly finds a guitar, in the trunk of a car no less...

I legitimately ugly cried during this scene. Give Norman all the awards! And just to have mentioned it; that guitar is brought home to the US...

Back to Daryl, Carol and Ash in the car/tomb. To be stuck in a tomb sounds ominous, had it not been for the fact that tombs sometimes have an “emergency exit”. Don’t believe me? Take it up with Jesus Christ, he’s the one who made escaping tombs trendy some 2000 years ago. Later, we’ve seen it countless times in TWDU, my favorite is this little sequence from 4x12 Still:

Beth and Daryl hide in a trunk (tomb) for the night while a walker horde passes by. When morning comes we watch Beth open the closed trunk (tomb) from the inside, and climb out, into the daylight. That’s car/tomb symbolism paired with resurrection symbolism, and just like this scene from TBOC 2x5 is a retelling of what happened after Coda, the scene from 4x12 Still foreshadowed what were to happen in Coda.

And luckily, Daryl, Carol and Ash’s car (tomb) has an "emergency exit":

This is also something we’ve seen before, back in 7x12 when Michonne and Rick had a similar type of experience with being stuck in a car(tomb) surrounded by walkers:

Later, Ash perhaps gives us an estimate of approximately how long Beth spent in the trunk of the car, or alternatively, how long it took for TF to return to the car to retrieve her:

And it turns out it’s no coincidence that it is Ash who is given the task of being the Beth proxy in episodes 5 and 6. After he’s been saved from the Coda-esque nightmare in the overrun car, they together prepare to leave France. Ash and Daryl go out in search of some extra spare parts for the plane. They start talking about children. As I’ve already mentioned briefly here, having kids and losing kids is the overarching theme throughout this entire season, and I maintain that this is the season where Daryl becomes a father. It’s a huge, groundbreaking development for him, something which makes the following even more astonishing.

Ash asks what happened to Laurent’s parents:

Daryl knows Ash once lost his son, and offers his condolences. He explains how he was there when Carol lost Sophia, and adds that it’s something he wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

Then the Beth callbacks and dialogue parallels kicks into high gear:

And here we actually have Daryl, in TBOC 2x6, adding to Beth’s commentary from TWD 4x2 Infected:

…which in my opinion is a rather extraordinary thing. Did TPTB actually, in a roundabout way, sneak in a proper Bethyl conversation after all these years? Did Beth speak to Daryl from "beyond the grave", so to speak, and Daryl replied? Did Beth actually “speak” to Daryl as he's in the middle of the emotional process of becoming a father? Of all times to include this type of callback, they do it as Daryl is accepting the responsibilities of fatherhood?

And more importantly, why? Why would TPTB do something like that?

Because they’re preparing for her to return, that’s why.

That’s also why they threw in like 1500 super potent Beth callbacks and dialogue parallels in 2x2, which I wrote about in the Green(e)land post here. And as I mentioned, that was the episode with Daryl’s first ever onscreen kiss! His very first onscreen kiss is accompanied by a wide selection of exquisite Beth callbacks, and now they're out here (sort of) discussing parenthood???

And what's more, people, keep in mind that the Green(e)land storyline was PURE symbolism. It did absolutely nothing to move the plot forward, it was exclusively a tool for sprinkling a bunch of Beth references all over the kissy-episode. And again, we should all ask ourselves why!

(Having said that, I don’t think we should downplay his feelings for Isabelle. I’ll elaborate more in a different post, but I’ll say again that I don’t believe one relationship cancels out another. Love can take different forms between different people. He can love Isabelle in one way and Beth in a different way, and they’re both valid. But that’s for a different day.)

But basically, as I keep saying, TBOC is full of Beth callbacks and dialogue parallels, and like I've shown here, they're not chosen randomly.

[mydarlingbat]

Batman endgame is absolutely amazing. I honestly really got down to reading it again, and i was opened to a lot of new things. I hadn't even noticed. The thing about Batman Arkham City endgame. It's so freaking heartbreaking. Let's skip all of that and get down to business. Let's talk about this first panel.

We're seeing such a wide view here. Batman can't help but be vulnerable in front so many people right now. Right now the crowd doesn't even exist. Harley Quinn slapping him doesn't exist at this moment. Commissioner Gordon screaming his name, inquiring to know what went down in there isn't catching his ears. All he can think about right now is that the Joker's dead, so that's why he walks through those doors, not looking at anyone, just laying the Joker's body gently on the car. There's cops who's happy the clown's dead, but Batman isn't feeling no type of happiness, although he should be, even though he said he should let the Joker die earlier. That's not what he truly wanted. Sure he would be okay with the world being free of The Joker, but not him being free of The Joker right?

What is this? Jim mention he wished he could've killed him himself, and Batman head goes down. No, no, there's no denying it. That's Batman mourning the Joker. Jim even apologizes to Batman, but truly for what? Why can't he have his joy that the Joker is dead? Batman stands there the whole time, trying to grasp the reality, and he doesn't want to. This is also mention in this novel.

The exact words in Batman riddler's gambit novel.

The answer had been right in front of them the entire time, and he'd refuse to see it. The parallels had all been there from the beginning _ the bomb in gotham merchant's bank vault, hunting killer croc, Mr freeze research. The puzzle hadn't been difficult he'd just refuse to solve it. He couldn't admit the Riddler was making a play for the Joker's place in the underworld hierarchy, because to acknowledge that would be admitting that the Joker was gone.

Batman has to try to focus on something else. He has to pretend what he's seeing isn't reality. He wants to be angry at something. He wants to believe this is what the Joker wanted, and maybe it was. Maybe it was, but why are you so angry Bruce? It specify informs us in Batman riddler's gambit novel, that Batman didn't want to believe the Joker was dead, even after the body was burned.

The exact words in Batman / Riddler's gambit novel.

Is it possible the Joker is alive? That would explain the deliberate echoes of previous events. But it was unthinkable. Batman had seen the Joker body. Gordon had watched it burn, and help dispose of the ashes. He was gone. Unless he'd employed a disguise or a body double. No, Batman thought. Not this time. There was too much evidence. They had confirmed it every way possible. Then why am I still clinging to the chance he might have survived. He had fought the joker for years, and came close to to death on more occasion than he could count. He should be joyous it had ended. Yet it seemed as if he had lost someone terribly close. Perhaps he had. That's what Alfred and Robin been hinting at, before the arrival of the package. As bizarre as it seemed, as much as he hated to admit. Batman knew that in some twisted way the Joker was still a part of him. They had defined each other for so long.

This wound presents a deeper meaning. It let's us know that even Alfred knows Batman's sick twisted relationship with the Joker. He doesn't want to acknowledge. The wound gets stitch up by Alfred earlier on, but that same wound wounds up bleeding again. The Joker death will always have a hold on Bruce's heart. Bruce will never truly forget the Joker, and the Joker death will always be a open wound.

Why? Is it symbolic? I think Bruce don't want It to heal. Maybe the artist is letting us know that the wound will never heal. The hidden wounds that no one sees.

You have to understand when the Joker gave Batman another job after he passed. You have to understand this exactly what Batman needed. The thrill of it is visible on his face. Batman looked pleased to finally be solving a case that the Joker left him. This is not an angry face. This is a face of interest. He desires to hear more. He needs this as much as he needs to hide from reality.

However when the Joker mentions his death? Batman face shows a deep sadness, like once again he is face with reality.

Part one.

[beaconfeels]

Sometimes I wonder if people realize how snobby they sound when they act like people not being able to read into the deeper meanings of shows or books are just being deliberately obtuse or unintelligent. First of all, it’s ableist. Some people literally do not have the IQ to process things that way, and they shouldn’t feel ashamed of whatever way they can and do enjoy their fandom.

Second of all, it feels to me like you’re assuming everyone has had access to the kind of education where you’re taught those things. (And that you had the ability to learn in a traditional class environment) Personally, I had one year of public school, and the rest of my schooling was extremely lackluster. I never had a single class in my life where we read through a book and were taught how to look for symbolism, tropes, or any of the other things that people seem to know about when they’re talking about media. I didn’t go to college either, another thing that’s not terribly uncommon, so the only way I would have learned all that stuff was by studying it by myself.

Now, you might say, ‘That’s how I learned it!” You might be super smart and super motivated because you’re interested in it, but again, it’s kind of ignoring the different ways that people’s brains work, and also their life circumstances. I’m chronically ill, neurodivergent, and have a heck load of trauma. I’ve spent most of my adult life just trying to freaking survive, and when I’m in survival mode, I shut down. I end up only doing the things that are easy for my brain to process in my downtime because I’m so damn tired just trying to get through the basics of adult life.

I’m FINALLY at a place in my life where I have enough safety and time to be able to focus and learn things on my own, and I still end up often using the brain space that I do have to learn things that actually give me a shot at creating a better life for myself, ya know? Skills that I might be able to turn into a way to make money. This is not to say you might not have the exact same circumstances as me and you’ve self-educated yourself about a lot of shit. Good for you. That’s the way your brain lets you do things, and you should feel lucky.

Anyway, just know that viewing intelligence through a single type of lens has its roots in classism, racism, and ableism, and maybe just think about that the next time you’re writing a post about this kind of stuff. Honestly, I LOVE the people who actually talk about the symbolism and other things they catch in TV shows and books etc, because that’s been a really nice way for me to gain a little education about it in a way that’s fun and interesting. There’s a real difference between someone doing a post where they talk through something they loved in their fave show or book and point out all the parallels and color choices and what that means, versus someone basically saying, “I mean DUH. You’d think they haven’t even watched the show. OBVIOUSLY the red balloon represents his hopes for the future.” That kind of energy is not useful.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

More of the Twin or Duality Theory with Isabel/Leah/Beth

@twdmusicboxmystery

So, I woke up with something of a new theory in my head. Let's say, just for kicks, that Daryl does end up having a relationship with Isabelle. I'm not any more convinced that's going to happen than either of you are, but humor me. If he does, CLEARLY it's just going to be another Leah. Not something long term or soulmate like.

So, I was thinking about how we always said Leah was both a mirror opposite and a parallel to Beth. And then there's this idea of Isabelle being Beth's symbolic "twin."

We've also talked about how the Leah storyline was originally going to play out much differently (we think) but CoVid changed everything and they had to shuffle things around, right? I remember saying once that I thought originally they would air the Leah storyline AFTER revealing Beth, and that would have changed the whole feel of it. Daryl would have been having this slightly toxic relationship with Leah, while fans already knew Beth was out there. But obviously it didn't play out that way.

So, I was thinking that maybe originally Leah was going to be Beth's symbolic, functional twin, but when everything happened, things got pushed back and rearranged, etc., they scrapped that idea, at least in its first iteration. Obviously, Leah still had a million shades of Beth in her (and Carol too) but she became more of a forerunner than a side-by-side symbolic twin.

See, one thing I always thought and know I said a few times is that I think we're going to need to see Beth and her symbolic twin at the same time. In all the other dualities, they've been on screen together. Lizzie and Mica. Carol and Alpha. Rick and the Gov. Glenn and Nicholas. More recently, Max and Shira.

So, it just never made sense to me that if Leah was Beth's twin, she would die before Beth was even revealed. But again, now I'm wondering if originally the plan was to have them play out together, but that got scrapped bc of Covid, and now they've created Isabelle to take on the role of Beth's dualistic other half.

All I'm saying is that, if so, it would make sense for the question of romance to be there. It doesn't mean Daryl has to take her up on it--I agree that doing another exact storyline like Leah's feels really redundant--but she might offer it to him.

And given what happened with Leah, he might even be thinking that he screwed that up, so maybe he should give this woman a shot, but something about it still just won't feel right to him. Because, you know, Beth. Anyway, that's pretty much it. I still think, no matter how it all plays out, that it's leading to Beth. Just some thoughts I woke up with this morning. ;D

@wdway

It certainly could go that way. I see your logic in this scenario. For myself though I have come more and more to believe that Leah at least in FM was more about Daryl and Carol. He has such mixed up feelings about Carol and Beth. These two women that he loves in different ways.

In the end I feel that in s11 by the time Leah tried to kill Maggie she was much more of a ruthless Carol figure. I think the good he saw in Leah was always him wanting to see Beth in her but she really wasn't Beth or completely Carol but he saw the best and the worst of the two women.

And maybe that is what I'm leaning towards after reading what you wrote. Leah represented the combination of Carol and Beth but ended up being more about Carol maybe Isabelle will be more about Beth. It makes more sense in my head than the way I explained it.

I got the DVD for s11 yesterday. One of the reasons prefer watching the DVD is because my control system for when I'm watching it on AMC+ or now on Netflix has like a two second delay in stopping when I hit the button which drives me crazy. I can't move frame by frame like I used to.

I'm going through and catching some things and I was looking at the little running what I have always called the Beth blur and in this season there's 3 images. A main largest a second smaller and now a third image across the bottom. That's the shot above. When I read what you wrote, @twdmusicboxmystery, it made me wonder if this could possibly stand for the three, Beth, Leah and Isabelle. I don't know just random thoughts.

Another thought is that if that's true about the 3 then that gives us a rule of 3. Just as I believe Daryl will lose Beth a third time to complete the rule of 3. More random thoughts.

@galadrieljones:

Interesting for sure. I know back when 11a originally aired, I wondered if Beth would show up and kill Leah, like how Alice wins the chess game in Through the Looking Glass. She takes the Red Queen, which wakes the Red King, and the game ends, and she wakes up. I wouldn’t be surprised if they shared screentime because of the “twinning” thing.

Here’s a slight variation I was thinking of, given what we know about Isabelle. She is a nun. Or, she’s something like that. We see her wearing a habit in one of the leaked photos, and a light colored hood in some photos Norman has posted from filming.

If she is indeed a nun, this could be building toward a madonna-whore duality of women. Whore is a strong word, but that’s just the name of the trope. Leah fulfills the “whore” aspect, as she checks a lot of boxes here. Independent (in an antisocial manner), selfish, mean, mercenary. There’s also that hint of sexuality between them. She tries to separate him from his family. She is violent. She follows a cult leader, and is therefore susceptible to idolatry.

Meanwhile, Isabelle is a nun. That’s much of what we know about her, other than her appearance: blond hair, blue eyes. She’s pretty in a very “clean” and clear way. We see her nursing Daryl back to health in her habit. She is the Madonna, or the pure aspect of femininity. This could suggest she is asexual, or that there is no sexuality between them. It’s pure, platonic, untainted. She will be independent but in a self-assured way, self-motivated kind of way, not anti-social. Unlike Leah, who is a mercenary, and morally dubious/indifferent/loyal only to herself, Isabelle will be unflinchingly loyal to a cause, to God, to something greater than herself.

Remember Daryl in Rendition, when he tells Pope that he only believes “in himself�� now, and how Pope tells him that’s too bad. Daryl’s been supremely messed up by Leah. So Isabelle will balance the scales that have been tipped in Daryl’s psychology, by Leah.

Leah may have soured Daryl on women, or strangers, the prospect of “good people,” which Beth introduces him to in season 4. Isabelle will restore his faith in people, and in women (the divine feminine), which will open him up, make him amenable to romance once again.

I don’t believe they’ll have a romantic relationship, not if she’s a nun. But she genuinely looks a little like Beth, and this will remind him of Beth, and of the more loving, nurturing parts of humanity that Beth represents in his psychology. These parts may have been buried away a little after seeing his ex-girlfriend trying to kill Beth’s sister, forcing him to kill her.

I also had this thought. If Daryl is gravely injured, or unconscious, and he wakes up to Isabelle leaning over him. The way she looks, he might at first hallucinate that he’s seeing Beth, dressed as a nun, hence the strained look on his face in the leaked photo, like he’s afraid. I even wondered if maybe the habit was a hallucination. Maybe she’s wearing a hood, and he hallucinates that he’s seeing a habit. But there’s nothing to suggest that, other than the fact that Daryl has hallucinated before.

In either case, the last time he thought he saw Beth, it was Leah in Rendition. She was in all black, wearing a terrifying mask. Now, we have another Beth look-alike, not in a creepy mask, but in a habit. So we have weight on both sides of the scale now: the mercenary and the nun.

Ideally, then, Beth would be a sort of balance between them. She’s a warrior, but she’s not indifferent. She’s loyal, but she’s not a nun. She’s sexual, but not a whore. She can be a romantic partner but also just, a partner, a best friend, a confidant. She sees the best in people, but when she sees a wolf in her flock, she will not hesitate to kill it.

I think this goes back to the yin and yang theory, that every force has an equal but opposing force necessary to balance the scales. Leah is dark, Isabelle is light. Beth is the yin and yang of them both.

@twdmusicboxmystery

I love all our theories, Gals!

@galadrieljones

Me too!! Here’s hoping we get some actual info soon!

[sinkableruby]

OUGI STAY DIRECTOR'S COMMENTARY WOO

yay ok so basically i have a lot of thoughts about this fic and i kinda crafted it painstakingly so im gonna point out some stuff i like about it wee (btw go read it if you havent already) (oh but like. so spoilers. soooo spoilers. of course.) (wrote this awhile ago but i just wrote that analysis post so i feel i might as well just post it now. might do a part 2 with some other misc stuff too)

the leaves - this was funny because, i wanted to have like a recurring symbol throughout the fic, and i kinda felt like writing some prose for it, even as i figured it would annoy some readers and not really fit ougi (well, that much, ougi is pretty flexible). however it would be very fitting for ougi if she used it to break the fourth wall immediately, and so it sort of became a joke in that sense. but what that paragraph says still stands! the symbol is still very real... to be blunt: ougi is the leaf. woah crazy to be less blunt: araragi's symbol throughout the series is the tree. the gi in his name means tree for fucks sake (this is also why i put that footnote in there!). ougi is not a tree, but she's not separate from it either. she's a branch-off from it, hence she is the leaf. and she needs to seek comfort from the cold uh oh! i'll get into this more later

on moving on - ougi fails to get araragi to do so. of course, it had to happen this way, because that's the whole impetus of zoku owarimonogatari, and i wanted this fic to be something you could insert into canon without really disrupting much of anything. but that's not the only reason she fails. she reflects on it, wondering if her approach was wrong, or if maybe staying over made him more attached, but i have my own theory on why: ougi couldn't convince araragi to move on because she had also not moved on. we see araragi in zoku not feeling ready to leave behind his high school self, holding regrets for what happened. ougi is just as full of this regret, regret she couldn't find somewhere to call her own. and she is holding on to the past just as much as he is! she's struggling to find a new paradigm for the whole fic! she keeps catching herself before she criticizes araragi too hard! she's putting off thinking about what the hell she's going to do next with her life! she's just as not ready to move on as he is! they are mirrors of each other because of course they are!

place to stay - well, the fic is called ougi stay so i should talk about this. i will just mention that it is canonical that ougi's regret in zoku owari is not having found a home. it's super glossed over because nisioisin is allergic to delving into ougi's character for some reason, so i wanted to expand it a little with this fic. anyway, the araragi residence is warm and welcoming and lively and happy, which, in a moment à la sodachi, only serves to remind ougi how much of an outsider she is. "it's not actually her home," she says at the beginning, and she keeps reiterating that she's a "guest" at their house. so when she's exhausted all her thoughts about her problems, little doubts start to creep in, and then she's stuck feeling bad about how she has no home again, oops. and then in a moment of cruel universal irony, she is given a "home" in the form of the mysterious classroom she ambiguously created. and trapped there. alone. for like longer than a full day. nisioisin why did you do this actually this was pretty mean. really mean actually what the fuck i guess it is fitting for ougi who is a User of Irony™, and also because, if you will notice, ougi is detached from ougi's narration. THIS WAS VERY INTENTIONAL AND I LIKE IT A LOT. it kind of parallels ougi's detachment from their self. quotes from zoku owarimonogatari here: [ougi to araragi] "Well, you foolishly saved me from being absorbed by the darkness, didn't you? "My uncle supported that decision, but it's not like the specialists were unanimously on board. "There's probably plenty of notables who think it would have been best if something as dangerous as me had disappeared. "I'm one of them, incidentally. "But this time, I functioned as your failsafe. "It proved that there was value in you keeping me alive." i'm sure this way of viewing yourself is not problematic in the slightest and will have no consequences down the line but yea there's a kind of detachment in how ougi talks about themself. "there are notables who think i should have disappeared. by the way i am one of those people" is what they say, not, "i think i should have disappeared." they're viewing themself from the point of view of a specialist here, not from the point of view of... themself. and yeah sure its their job but holy shit ougi. are you ok??????? i think there was already value in you being alive just by you being alive but you know. you could also say this is ougi's perspective as an oddity, which can be very function-oriented, or rather they have to be because there's a big asshole black hole that will swallow them up if they're not. but ougi has a self now (i mean didn't she always) and is safe, at least for the time being, and so should not still be thinking like this in my opinion!!!!!!!! or have been thinking it at all in the first place :( so yeah that's the point behind the detached narration. it's the "but that's not in character for me, so i won't do it" and the general fourth wall breaking. a kind of ironic detachment to parallel ougi's detachment from her self, and how that detachment is kind of not good for her! (and i mean, doesn't it just kind of fit for ougi to narrate like this. i mean how else would she do it, really.) there's a really interesting line in onimonogatari episode 4's audio commentary, with nadeko and ougi. in the scene at the end of the episode where ougi shows up, ougis like ok feel free to switch back to the main commentary now and nadekos like ! but! but look it's the scene! it's the scene! and ougis like huh? wym? 'me? (literally says たしが？instead of わたしが？) and then says i'm not the kind of character who gets embarrassed or excited when i appear on screen. i end up seeing myself as someone else. perhaps self detachment is something you can expect to learn when your existence is originally defined as inherently tied to someone else's. but that's probably, not, necessarily, a good, thing! and it shouldn't stay like that forever, at the very least. that leads us into the next point. we go from self-detachment into...

beddy bye - eepy ougi.... guys did you notice that right after ougi tells araragi that sleep means changing she falls asleep despite saying she can't. did you notice. did you ougi understands she can build a self through experience but then disregards it because she can keep working either way and technically doesn't Need it. this is the opposite of character development :)! because for ougi to say what she says in zoku i can't imagine she would have been able to come to any healthy conclusions about herself the main thing she's been doing that i'm critiquing is disregarding herself, detaching from herself, not taking care of herself, basically. but for just a moment, she sees herself (araragi) cold and shivering and shes like. ok fuck it just one time is fine. and she gets comfort from him too, in the form of warmth, and the sound of life. (it's also important that araragi is asleep because it centers her more. he's technically not doing anything, and its more of a soliloquy for ougi-- her comforting herself, if only by a technicality) one of my favorite things about these two is that you can really notice how similar they are. araragi's got his insane self-sacrificial bent the whole series, and nearly cops to it again in ougi dark. ougi in ougi dark is doing some insane self sacrifice kind of thing! hey! it's almost like these two are the same person... and it applies here too. these two are silly and take care of themselves easier when it's done through the proxy of their doppelgangers. well, it works for now. ougi makes the first step of reaching out to herself, even if it is a very very small step. and just that tiniest act of checking up on herself, just the smallest teeniest act and experience of self-comfort makes her realize oh i am so fucking tired actually. it's no coincidence that her taking care of herself comes in the form of sleep-- sleep is change. she's changing. there's still hope for her, she has the ability to learn to take care of herself better. like, she really really really needs to sleep. to rest. has she even rested in the six months since she was born? she's always fucking rushing everywhere, on the grind, girlbossing, etc, yes haha, but like seriously. she's neglecting this very basic thing. people can't just work nonstop for 6 months and be fine. i mean hell last night she almost fucking died. and was very scared, actually. and had an emotional outburst, for the first time in her life, got so mad she couldnt even do her smiley ougi thing. got so mad and hurt that she, despite all her eloquence and composure, actually stuttered, actually broke her cheery monotone and let the raw hurt into her voice. and then got saved and had no idea wtf was going on and everything was just a tumultuous mess. so she's got that on top of those 6 months, and god that would fucking drain you! you almost DIED. FOREVER. not going to hell. you almost DIED.

my favorite line of the fic is "The magnitude of six months, bearing down on me." because yeah. god. just the sheer force. the weight. the scale. how far it reaches, the extent. of everything. it just hits you. six months. six fucking months do you know how long that is??? i cannot stress this enough. six months and the only six months you've ever known. six months and that would have been the end of your whole life. six months!!!!!!!!!!! i wouldn't be able to move under that weight either girl i woulda just blacked out and i wouldnt be surprised if this was not just a "holy fuck i'm so tired" moment but also a "holy fuck i'm alive. i didn't die" kind of moment. because ougi is just kind of pondering it vaguely and distantly in especially the beginning of the fic, but idk if it's quite hit her at that point yet yk. but yeah. the moment is a radical shift for ougi not because it's instant change, it's not like instantly ougi gets better. that's not how it works. but ougi does START to get better here. and that kind of hope is what ougi and ougi's arc is about, to me. you help others come to terms with their lives. bad things happen, people fall to darkness, but they survive, they find a way, they figure it out. you don't disappear, you aren't erased; you get to be you. you get to live.

[wardowrites]

He didn’t know how to feel about the fact that Louis seemed to react more upon hearing his cat’s name being mentioned than he had when he’d seen Wardo again. Or maybe he did know how to feel but wasn’t quite ready to allow his chest to fucking cave in like it wanted to if the pressing ache beneath his collar bone was anything to go by.

Louis sounded surprised that Wardo had kept the cat, having probably assumed he’d passed it onto someone else or even just set him loose one day. It would be unfair to blame him for that (although Wardo would try) for two reasons. One being that Wardo and Ulysses had famously never gotten along when they lived under the same roof as Louis. The second reason was that, for a few days after he’d returned from Lowell, he’d honestly considered just getting rid of the damn thing. He didn’t want to have to come home every day and find Louis’ fucking cat waiting for him, a constant reminder of what he’d lost.

But then Ulysses had sat outside Louis’ closed bedroom door, scratching at the wood and mewling pathetically, not understanding where the man had gone. Wardo hadn’t had the heart to send him away after that.

Still, he hadn’t quite managed to detach Louis and Ulysses from each other, their identities messily entangled in the weeks that followed. Wardo had kept Ulysses in the apartment but had cursed out the feline and thrown angry words towards the ceiling when the stupid thing got underfoot and annoyed him. As if he could redirect all the anger and hurt he felt towards Louis to the man’s cat. Ivy had been the one to slap him upside the head and told him to cut it out, that it wasn’t Ulysses’ fault that his owner had abandoned him. He’d been a little nicer to the cat after that, but the way Ulysses trailed around the apartment, making himself at home amongst Wardo’s belongings still got under his skin.

Then, there had been the time where he’d left the kitchen window open and Ulysses had scarpered off, whizzing down the fire escape before Wardo could catch him. He’d agonised over trying to find him, like if he managed to track Ulysses down then it would magically fix everything he’d convinced himself he’d ruined between him and Louis.

Eventually, Ulysses had returned, dirt matting his fur and the stench of the city sticking to him and Wardo, who was a fanatic when it came to literary themes and parallels and symbolism, had been stupid enough to think that Louis might follow soon after. He never had.

He was here now though, and so Wardo could look him in the eye and tell him, “Yeah, I’ve got him. Wasn’t going to just shut the door on his face, was I?”

At last, the flash of satisfaction he’d been waiting for, brief as it was, hummed under his skin like electricity. He lifted his head a little higher, feeling taller.

Refusing to bow to the self-pitying bullshit Louis was spouting about Wardo not wanting to see him - because, really, what had given him that idea? - he couldn’t help but scoff when Louis actually requested that Wardo read his book. Because of course the universe couldn’t just push Louis Denver back into his path. They had to throw published author Louis Denver his way. He thought of his own half-filled notebooks back in his apartment and how they would never see the light of day, never mind the inside of a publishing house. It looked like everything really had worked out for Louis.

His lips twisted into a smile and he waved a hand.

“S’alright. I don’t need to burn paper to keep a fire goin’ anymore. Keep your book, it can be someone else’s kindling,” he said, venom coating his words and showing his true anger for the first time since Louis had had the audacity to tell him hey, Wardo.

At the mere mention of his cat, Louis blanched. Named after James Joyce's modernist epic, Louis had adopted the ball of white fluff when he was a mere baby. In contrast to whatever pseudo-masculine, Captain of the football team, heterosexual persona Louis had tried to push during his college years, anyone who saw him with his cat knew he was a big fucking softy. The kitten had lived with Louis and Wardo throughout their last year of college, and had quickly become part of the furniture. Sure, Ulysses was mean and had a tendency to bite, but he was Louis' baby.

When he left for Lowell, Louis hadn't expected that was the last time he'd see his cat again. Louis had spent many a night curled up in his childhood bedroom, posters peeling on the walls, his legs hanging off the end of his single bed. He'd cried for his irreversibly fucked relationship, cried for the young man he'd been before his older brother had sunk his claws into him, and in his weakest and most pathetic moments, he cried for his cat. It hurt too much to think about what had happened to Ulysses, or where he'd ended up. To find out would be to contact Wardo again, and Louis didn't think he could un-slam the door he'd slammed in his face.

"You've got my cat?" Louis asked, hand dropping from where it had previously been scratching behind Capote's ear.

He couldn't even bring himself to be upset at the way Wardo had brushed him off. A tiny kernel of hope unfurled in Louis' chest. He'd kept his fucking cat. Louis didnt' know what that meant, but it had to mean something. Chekov didn't just leave all his guns lying around for no goddamn reason, did he?

"Look, it's clear you don't want to talk to me. I'm sure I deserve that." he winced, wishing he'd chosen his words more carefully. "And I'm sure Ivy can fill you in on all the sordid details later."

His teeth dug into his bottom lip, blurting out the rest of his sentence before his courage failed him, "Just make sure she gives you the book, alright? My one pitiful request."

[space-mermaid-writing]

The witchling and the god [Loki x Witch!Reader] Chapter 22

Summary: The Avengers were looking for someone to help Loki fit in with the team. To become socially acceptable, so to speak. He had been given the choice of sitting in a cell in Asgard or serving some sort of community service probation on Midgard. The Avengers and Shield both felt that as long as Loki was on Earth, he should be under supervision. This is now your job. Why? Because you’re a witch. You’re not sure why this qualifies you, but here you are, giving it a shot. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Witch!Reader, Magic, Witches, slow burn, everybody lives in the tower, character development, Loki‘s redemption, Stephen Strange is a friend, Loki and Stephen are frenemies, Tony Stark is a good bro, kids love Loki, Tony has stupid nicknames for everybody, eventual smut

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read it on AO3 | Previous | Next

Chapter’s Note: Funny enough, I started writing this chapter way before Multiverse of Madness came out. There are some magic parallels of specific spells. Beta by @zaria-04

Chapter 22: Questionable Magic

Suddenly the door is kicked open from the inside and your sister appears in the doorway. She walks bent over, and even under the smoke coming out through the doorway, you see tattoos glowing on her neck. She pulls your brother behind her.

Finally Loki releases you and you hurry to meet her. The Asgardian stays by your side, even slightly faster, and together you lie Gabriel on the grass at a safe distance from the fire. As soon as Elizabeth steps out, she takes a deep breath of fresh air. Her tattoos stop glowing as her body takes in oxygen again.

Gabriel's clothes are torn and burned from the flames and his skin is flaming red. He has several cuts on his body that seem too clean to you to be from the fire. Your gaze falls to his forehead and you take a startled breath. There is a symbol burned in there as if it was made by a hot iron. A cross with two bars.

Witch hunters.

"He's not breathing," your sister whines, who has already knelt beside him to examine him. It pulls you back to the present and reminds you to start working. You hear the sounds from the street getting louder, shifting. And out of the corner of your eye you notice movement, probably the fire department.

"Loki," you address your lover without taking the eyes off your brother. The panic inside you hasn't gone away, but you have hope. There is something you can do. "You have to get the people off our backs. Make sure they don't bother us."

The Asgardian merely nods and disappears from your side. You don't see what he's doing, but you trust him to take care of it.

If one of the paramedics takes care of Gabriel, he would definitely die. As great as modern medicine wants to be, it has its limits. And the doctors would not allow you to help, even if you have the more promising methods. They just don't understand it when you go other ways than theirs.

Besides, Gabriel would be taken to a hospital and put on record there. If the witch hunters wanted to verify later if he was really dead, they would find out for sure and come back for him. It's just too dangerous.

From your bag you pull out a jar of paste that you use to cream all the wounds you see, all the burns and cuts. You open Gabriel's shirt, see the crusted blood on his chest. Your breath catches at the sight, but you force yourself to focus.

"Mama didn’t answer my call," your sister tells you between her mumbled words. She has her hands outstretched over the unconscious body, tending to the internal injuries.

"Of course she didn't," you snort, "She doesn't interfere with things like this. Even when it involves the lives of her own children."

You set the jar aside and cast a spell. The wounds under the cream light up and stop bleeding. The smaller ones are already regenerating, the larger ones would take more time to heal, as would the burns. Time you don't have.

"The lungs are clear," your sister informs you.

Loki reappears at your side. "We'll be undetected for a while." He watches you do what you do, but doesn't dare participate in your work. Different types of magic can interfere in a negative way and your spells would be useless.

You try to find out how bad the damage to his head is, if his brain was damaged under the branding.

"His pulse is weak," your sister says, jaw clenched. "We're losing him."

You shake your head. This can't be happening. "We need more time to stabilize him."

You give your sister a pleading look, and she nods. "You have one minute. Make it work."

As you frantically rummage in your bag for something that can help you, Elizabeth closes her eyes, gathers all her concentration, and mutters a spell. A tattoo on her arm moves down to her hand, becoming a dense black area at her fingertips. The same thing happens on her other side. She clenches her hands into fists and extends each of her index and middle fingers so that they cross in front of her. Then, abruptly, a ring spreads from her, a glowing golden hoop that floats in the air around your small group.

Suddenly, everything around you freezes. No sound can be heard anymore, your ears seem to be packed in cotton. Loki turns his head and notices in awe that time seems to have stopped around you.

You come across a vial that you have almost forgotten about. It is a potion you brewed from the scale Gabriel gave you on the day of the Lunar Convergence. Its effect is uncertain. Mermaid magic is as changeable as the sea itself and actually much better suited for curses. But life can be a curse sometimes. With this, you may have a chance.

"Loki, I need your help: make sure they don't get their hands on us."

The Asgardian is watching the fire in the house. The flames are making very slow movements, and upon closer inspection, even the firefighter who was about to step around the corner a moment ago has not completely frozen. Time is just drawn out like a viscous glue trying to hold it in. At your words, he turns his attention back to you and frowns.

"What do you mean?" he asks, but you don't take the time to answer him.

You uncork the vial and let it float in front of you between your fingers. Then you begin reciting a spell in an ancient language. Your eyes turn pitch black and wind comes up. You barely feel it, all of your concentration is on remembering the right syllables. The slightest deviation would be fatal, both for you and for your brother.

Shadows emerge from the ground, taking on elongated shapes, and Loki realizes in horror that they are arms, wrapping themselves around you and your brother, holding you tight. He understands what kind of spell you are casting and silently scolds you for your carelessness in casting it without any protective circle.

He conjures daggers in his hands and attacks the arms. One cut is enough to dissolve the limbs in a 'poof'. Only unfortunately for a new one to immediately grow out of the ground. They are the spirits of the damned that try to capture you. They always appear within a necromantic spell.

Necromancy is a tricky kind of magic - one of the most efficient healing powers; all about life and death, and the eternal circle of it - but also one of the most dangerous if used carelessly. A single mistake can have enormous consequences, such as leaving out a protective circle. Without it, you are much more vulnerable to the damned.

Loki whirls around, but he's not fast enough to keep all the dark arms under control. They are not subject to time, and can move independently. Again and again they reach for you and Gabriel, slowly pulling you into the ground as if it were quicksand.

The liquid in the vial has begun to glow and you move your fingers unperturbed, muttering the incantation as it floats out.

The darker the shadows become, the stronger the vial glows.

"I can't keep time much longer!" your sister yelps. Her expression is strained and she struggles to keep her fingers crossed. A bead of sweat forms on her forehead.

Loki notices that the movements around you are picking up speed, even though everything still seems to be in slow motion.

You let the liquid float in Gabriel's mouth, hoping it will do its job. The dark aura around you remains. You stare at your brother, but nothing happens. He does not move. Instead, you become aware of the arms grasping you. You shift in your seat and lose your footing, immediately sinking deeper. Loki reaches for you. His dagger magically lights up as he frees you.

Your eyes are back to Gabriel. You reach out and grab the shadows that wrap around him, ripping them away with your bare hands before they can sweep him away and bury him.

"Gabriel!" Your voice rough, as if you'd shouted a lot – maybe you have. You weren't paying attention.

In a last, desperate attempt, you gather magic in your hands and slam them down on his chest as if for CPR. A shockwave emanates from you. Loki struggles to stay on his feet, raising an arm protectively in front of his face.

Then it's all over and time returns to normal. Your sister has fallen backward and let go of time. She's getting up and you're both staring at Gabriel. You have dropped to your knees.

All around you, the noise has returned. The fire is crackling, the paramedics and fire fighters are shouting orders to each other, and you hear the sound of a water canon.

Gabriel begins to cough and moans in pain.

Elizabeth breathes an audible sigh of relief as you whisper a prayer. Loki is the one who remains pragmatic. "We should get out of here," he says, looking at a fire fighter coming your way. With the stopping of time and the shockwave, his cloaking spell had disappeared and now you're sitting here as if on display in the garden, probably making a rather strange impression.

"Healer Josiah?" you ask your sister, and she nods wearily.

The spell just now has cost her great strength and you notice you are also reaching your limit. But you absolutely have to get away from here.

You join hands, taking Loki with you, and mutter a spell.

"Hey you!" the fireman shouts with a furrowed brow. "What are y-…" Then you’re gone.

Josiah's healer's house is in Mexico. It's a small farm with a large garden, a place to go for anyone who needs help. However, patients don't usually just suddenly appear in the entry hallway. Someone jumps to the side, startled, as you arrive out of thin air.

"We need a healer!"

The person - a teenage boy - nods and jumps to action to get someone.

Your hands clutch your brother's body. You're exhausted, the spellcasting has taken a lot of your strength, but you don't want to let him go.

Within a short time several people appear, alarmed by the boy and the noise in the entrance hallway. They see your group, see the unconscious Gabriel, the burns, and using a spell to preserve his sensitive skin, they take him away. Loki hands lie on yours to make you let your brother go. You're so wiped out that you didn't even realize you had your fingers clawed into his shirt. You want to get up to follow the healers, but your legs give way under you and you would have fallen if Loki hadn't caught you with his strong arms.

Concerned, another healer steps up to take care of you, but you shake your head.

"I'm fine, just tired. She was in the burning house." You point to your sister, who also looks worn out. She is still sitting on the floorboard where you arrived.

You are overcome with a sense of relief that you are here – at a safe place - and that you are being relieved of your responsibilities. It is now out of your hands. You allow yourself to close your eyes for a moment and lean your head against Loki's chest. Only very briefly.

Someone says something, but you don't listen.

Only when Loki slides his other arm under your knees and you realize you're being carried, you blink up at him questioningly. "We're getting a room," he explains, "You can rest there."

"'m fine," you mumble, but close your eyes again and drift back to sleep.

___________________________________

Me: writing about necromancy magic and black hands trying to drag them into hell because it's a cool theme Multiverse of Madness: Hey, can I copy your homework? (that scene in the movie was so badass and creepy! loved it)

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[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

I always appreciate the nuance and insight you bring to Beatles conversations. And I'm wondering if you can help me find some empathy for George? I feel like I'm just too much of an older sibling for his complaints about how his songs were treated to register as anything other than ridiculous. (Although I'm not the oldest in my family, so I do have some younger sibling experience of my own.) Every time I read about him complaining about how he was treated I'm forcibly reminded of my baby sister, when she was about 7, throwing temper tantrums at the dinner table because she insisted on waiting for complete silence before beginning to tell a story, despite us being a family of six and complete silence being a literal impossibility. Except he's in a professional environment. I have a whole rant about the parallels in this analogy, but seeing him for once acknowledge that he wouldn't have started writing if it wasn't for John and Paul has briefly opened my heart to him and I'm trying to take advantage of it. Getting into that rant would slam it shut again, so I will resist the temptation.

I don't know, maybe I'm wasting both our time sending this ask and my willingness to change my mind about George will be gone by the time you even see it. Or maybe my older sibling perspective just means that I fundamentally can't understand his complaint. But I always feel bad when I know my take on someone lacks the kind of empathy I'd want someone to have for me. So I'm asking for what help you can offer in this probably small window of time. (I do feel bad for him about the Northern Songs' shares set-up thing, that was bullshit, but I'm also pretty sure that John and Paul weren't really to blame for that.)

Thanks!

Hi anon! Okay, I actually am a younger sibling, though I wouldn't call my experience all that comparable to George's in that sense.

Here's my opinion of what happened: John and Paul started writing together as teenagers and also very consciously decided for it to be their thing; there's a quote floating around from Paul where he admits to asking John to specifically not include George in it. I don't know enough about their early dynamics to tell you whether this would specifically have hurt George (I don't recall him ever complaining about how they were with him that early on, though) but it did set up a dynamic where songwriting was a trademark John And Paul Thing, which would have made it daunting for George to start writing and show his work to them.

John and Paul wrote together from very early on but they actually didn't start introducing their self-written songs into their band set-lists until quite a bit later, some time in Hamburg I think. This means they had time to build up their writing abilities until they felt confident enough to perform them. Also consider they, from the start, packaged themselves as a songwriting team.

I'm talking about J+P instead of George right now, because I think understanding the way they worked informs how George felt in the studio. According to him, Don't Bother Me was the first song he ever wrote! This means he was technically about 6 years behind J+P, with regards to songwriting experience, and had no opportunity to test out performing one of his own songs before they took it to the studio. My point being, the circumstances led to George probably being very shy and uncertain whenever he presented his songs to the band and George Martin. Plus, him being alone, he didn't have a confidante to encourage him or give him necessary feedback who could also, both symbolically and quite literally, "sign off" on any finished song he wanted to present.

And I think it was this initial lack of confidence, as well as the catching up George still needed to do in terms of honing his craft, which led to everyone in the studio neglecting him as a songwriter. This in turn made George lose more confidence, commencing a cycle of him showing very little assertiveness and even downplaying his own songs, which probably made everyone else assume he wasn't that serious about writing in the first place and thus offer little encouragement.

Eventually, this led to George altogether losing interest in the band as a creative outlet. He says so much in the Davies bio (so around 1967), something along the lines of "the Beatles is my job; my passion is my faith and Indian music"; all of this, while Paul is getting hugely interested in song arrangement and recording techniques. I think it makes sense that J+P interpreted George's withdrawal in a way that led them to further show only moderate interest in George's songs.

Now, add on top of that that George was initially let into the band because he was deemed the best guitarist out of the three of them. But if Paul is now micromanaging George's solos (something both John and Paul had typically been very shy about in live contexts), to the point of taking over for him, this would be another great knock on his confidence because the very thing that initially made him an invaluable member is being taken away from him. Additionally, Paul especially was increasingly working on arrangements that didn't really have a spot for George (and also, notably, were more tedious for Ringo to record, though he wasn't fully left out as much). And add to that that all their music tastes were beginning to diverge, leading to George playing less music he actively enjoyed; but there wasn't an equal trade-off where the others played just as many things he had written in styles, which he enjoyed more.

What I'm saying is I think it makes sense for George to look back on all of this with resentment and an unshakeable feeling that if someone had vouched for his songs from the beginning – like Brian and George Martin had done for John and Paul – he would not have been led down a path that made him question his own talent and arguably cost him years of interesting work he could have produced. I think befriending Bob Dylan, who seemed to truly understand how to cultivate George's talent, made him realize all of this, which is why you see this delayed anger. It's perfectly normal to reassess the past and with a gained perspective feel differently about it, but it's true that it can be a bit of a non-starter, in terms of conflict resolution if not handled tactfully. What happened, happened, and no amount of self-reflection can change that.

Simultaneously, as George acknowledged, simply being in proximity to Lennon-McCartney ultimately inspired him and helped him as a songwriter, which you can see in how he did in fact catch up to them within a few years.

That all being said, it's fine to think he overly blamed John and Paul for a situation that was in the end everyone's fault in some capacity and that he perhaps took too much pleasure in talking shit about them (and especially Paul) after the band broke up.

But I really don't think it's fair to frame George as simply throwing a tantrum. I think he correctly perceived a fundamental difference in treatment but perhaps failed to see the non-malicious circumstances and communication issues that contributed to this difference.

[darkcircles4lyfe]

Death to All Might, Rebirth to Yagi Toshinori

So about All Might. I’ve been extremely wary of talking about what could happen to him because straight up saying “I don’t think he’s gonna die” is asking the universe to spite me. Plus it also feels like a room full of people turning to stare at me as if I said the Sun isn’t a star. Man has death flags everywhere, I know. 

But, okay, *Bill Nye voice* consider the following:

Mr. Yagi here, if he overheard everything, just received the final nail in the coffin on his career. His time as the symbol of peace is not only over, it was in fact partially responsible for the current state of things, since he once did so much on his own that his absence now makes heroes and civilians alike ill-prepared to cope. I think it was very apt for that one guy to be wearing an All Might shirt--he was acting as a mouthpiece for the latent societal problems embedded in All Might’s legacy. 

We know already that he’s been feeling useless. I love this scene and although I’m not gonna talk about it right this second, remember what Aizawa says about just “being here” being enough:

And we know from conversations with Inko that Toshinori is also reframed his purpose around looking after Izuku. But in the end, Izuku rejected his help, and it was his classmates instead who were able to save him. Now the very progress of humanity is rejecting him too. You may me wondering how on Earth I don’t see the logical conclusion of all this being his death. Hold on. It actually has a lot to do with the fact that we’re all expecting it. Nighteye himself saw it, and despite any contrary convictions anyone might have, the plot doesn’t seem to be veering away from that end. All Might Is Gonna Die, says absolutely everything. 

It’s occurring to me that I have previous experience with this kind of plotline that probably little to no one else in this fandom shares, being that I’ve read a certain book series in which the main character is told in no uncertain terms that he will die (no, I’m not talking about hp). The series in question is T*e Und*rland Chronicl*s (censoring so it doesn’t get put in their side of tumblr) and I’m sorry but I’m about to go on a shameless tangent about it and spoil the ending for you.

So in this series there is a prophecy in every book, each one having something to do with war and conflict, and so far all of them have been right. In the last book [mc] finds out that it’s prophesied that he will be killed. Lots of the things in the prophecies are convoluted and metaphorical, but no, this one literally says “when the [mc’s title] has been killed.” He spends the whole book coming to terms with this, and he gives into it, only to find himself waking up in the hospital instead. “Wow, plot twist. /s” you may be thinking, and yeah sure, the mc in a kids book survived, big shocker. But it doesn't end there. After the war, there are peace talks, but they escalate until the two sides are on the verge of declaring war again. And [mc], bless him, has just been caught in the middle of all of this the entire time. He’s sick as shit of fighting, of watching the suffering and death of people he cares about. He draws his sword against both of them angrily, gives a speech saying he won’t take a side, and then promptly breaks his sword across his knee: “There. [mc’s title in the prophecies] is dead. I killed him.” He’s giving a huge middle finger to everyone there, to the man who wrote the prophecies, to the entire fucked up culture of it all. And so something that was taken literally turns out to be metaphorical. That is, if you still believe in the prophecies at all.

Hopefully you’re catching my drift here. What I’m saying is, even though this other series has nothing to do with bnha, it goes to show sometimes it’s the most absolute certainties that are red herrings, and a “death” can consequently be a symbolic one. In All Might’s case, it could be the death of hero society and a rejection of his own past. In other words, character development for Toshinori himself that reflects on the way the world is changing, too. Also there’s the fact that the mc from that other series I’m trying not to name has an honorary title, and I’m imagining that role he occupied “dying” could correspond to something that amounts to, “All Might is dead. I (Yagi Toshinori) killed him.” 

And here’s another thing: we also have to ask ourselves what good a dead Toshinori is to Izuku, narratively speaking. Yes, Izuku has spent his whole life idolizing even the more toxic parts of All Might, and his idealized vision of his hero does need to “die.” But how about Toshinori as a father figure?  Izuku regretting that his last interaction with Toshinori was to reject his help may drive home the fact that he shouldn’t go off on his own, but at this point it’s kinda redundant. If anything it would negate some of the progress that was just made because it’d make him extra paranoid about losing other people too. To be honest, the whole “Uncle Ben” trope, the mentor/father figure who dies and gives the mc a reason to do better, is so tired. Experiencing the death of a loved one really doesn’t deserve to be romanticized like that. I might as well admit that I’m speaking from experience, and let me tell you, losing someone you love suddenly, when you weren’t around, and with unfinished business--it makes you paranoid as hell that it will happen again. It literally gives me nightmares. Y’all, I cannot stress enough that trauma does not equal character development. Granted, just because I know this doesn’t mean Horikoshi does, but in general he does seem to lead his characters toward healing.

Okay, back to the present. Toshinori is turning away from UA. He likely feels useless and rejected. We can infer that what happens next will involve Stain, and we have a couple of extra clues to go with it: Stain considers All Might a true hero, and has stated that he would let All Might kill him. And since Horikoshi loves his parallels, we also have this fight between Endeavor and this random villain who admires him so much that he wants to die by Endeavor’s hand:

This suggests a confrontation in which Stain challenges All Might to live up to himself as he once was, so that as a hero he can vanquish Stain and symbolically overcome society's perversion of that role. But based on what All Might has learned about the system he upheld, Stain is wrong. All Might is not a “true hero” in the sense that the societal issues Stain witnessed exist not in spite of All Might, but (in part) because of him, because he took too much of the responsibility for himself.

Stain probably had no idea about the personal cost of All Might’s lonely burden until after the fact. Maybe he’s seeing it now. So then perhaps the confrontation would be more about Stain claiming he’s just as fake as the rest. Either way, Toshinori has the opportunity to denounce himself and be rid of “All Might,”  to stop living in his own shadow. Nighteye’s vision has been defied before, and I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the combination of society shifting + Toshinori’s own conviction is enough to do it again and work fate in his favor.

He is not All Might. He is Yagi Toshinori: quirkless, worn down, and directionless except for his dedication to Izuku. If he survives his interaction with Stain, he can resolve his imperfect mentorship by confessing about his shortcomings and simply supporting Izuku as a part of his family, not as his teacher (as Aizawa said, just “being there”). And that’s how you really get character development, for both of them. I mean, shit, imagine Toshinori straight up telling Izuku to stop calling him All Might.

[strangerthings4theories]

The Lifeguard And The Rip Current: Our First BIG HINT That Billy Is Alive

IMPORTANT: If you haven’t read my post “The First Rule of Analyzing Stranger Things: The Upside Down Is Symbolized By Water,” please read it before you continue. Thanks!

Billy has just come fresh from the water, beaming with pride. “Did you see that?” he brags to his mom. “That wave was at least seven feet!” When she says they have to leave, he begs for ten more minutes. Reluctantly, she agrees.

As he grabs his surfboard and runs back to the water, his mom calls, "Billy?”

He pauses. Instinctively, we feel that whatever she says next is significant.

“Watch out for rip currents!" she finishes. 

"I know!" he answers cheerfully.

Then he hurries to the water, gets on his board, and swims away. 

Weird exchange, isn’t it? 

Everything in film has meaning. To tell a story using film, you can only use sight and sound. That means sets (especially location shoots, like a beach), costumes, dialogue, etc., are all chosen deliberately. If chosen well, they will clarify the story instead of muddying the waters. In other words, if Billy's mom goes out of her way to mention rip currents, you better sit up and pay attention.

Okay, so what does it mean? Why did the writers include this moment?

To find the answer, we must define what a rip current is.

The graphic says, “Rip currents are powerful currents of water moving away from shore. They can sweep even the strongest swimmer out to sea.”

Interesting. So they’re currents of water with a violent pull. Dare I say it, they could even sweep your feet out from under you.

Now where have we seen that in Stranger Things? (Skip to 1:30 in the video below.)

Yep. I’m saying what you think I’m saying.

When Billy catches the railing, the floor in front of him even looks like water. Study the screenshot below carefully--

See what I mean? The floor is ocean blue, and the dust patterns look like ripples. This is a purposeful design choice with an undeniable meaning.

The Upside Down is the ocean. The Mind Flayer and His servants are the rip current.

This revelation puts a whole new spin on victims of the Upside Down. Not only can we describe them as drowning victims; we can also say they drowned because a rip current swept them out to sea. 

Alright then! Keep the metaphor going. Suppose a rip current swept you out to sea. What would increase your chances of survival?

You’re a strong swimmer, and you've learned how to handle rip currents. You know to stay calm and swim parallel to shore until you’ve escaped the current’s pull.

A lifeguard saw you and is coming to rescue you.

A lifeguard.

A lifeguard.

Okay. Let’s take it slow... BREATHE... and unpack what this means.

If any victim of the Upside Down can escape it on his own, it’s Billy.  In fact, the Duffers have already foreshadowed that he will.

1) Billy knows how to deal with rip currents. What does he say when his mom warns him on the beach? “I know!” He doesn’t even sound worried. He sounds cheerful and confident, like escaping rip currents is second nature to him.

And that makes perfect sense. He grew up beside the ocean. He’s probably known about rip currents since he was old enough to swim.

We can’t say that for someone like Barb. She’s probably lived in Hawkins her entire life - as far away from the ocean as you can get. We don’t even see her swim in the Harringtons’ pool in S1. Does she know how? We never find out.

2) Like I mentioned above, Billy is a lifeguard. A lifeguard’s job is to save others from drowning. In the symbolic structure of Stranger Things, where ‘drowning’ means ‘dying in the Upside Down,’ that translates to: Billy will save others from the Upside Down.

3) Billy is so good at swimming that he teaches others how. When he’s flirting with Karen in S3, we find out he gives swimming lessons at the pool. It’s his side job in addition to being a lifeguard. In the symbolic structure of Stranger Things, that translates to: Billy will not only save others from the Upside Down; he will also teach them how to save themselves.

4) Billy is a surfer. He’s learned how to ride the waves... and symbolically tame them. Even when he falls in the water, it’s nothing to be afraid of. He just gets back on his surfboard and tries again.

No other character understands water like Billy. We could even say water is his element. It’s so central to his being that the Duffers chose to represent his mind as a beach.

The message is clear--

Billy will ultimately survive his encounter with the Upside Down. In future seasons, he will even tame it.

»»————-　✼　————-««

P.S. The strategy for escaping rip currents foreshadows how Billy will ‘return to shore’: “Swim out of the current in a direction parallel to the shoreline.”

More on that soon~~

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 26, part two

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Content note: This episode has a lot of lightning, but this post does not have lightning flashes--I’m using mostly stills for those parts, or I’ve snipped out the unfriendly frames before giffing.

Qing-Jie

Having successfully ruined Jin Guangshan’s party plan to get the Yin Tiger seal, Wei Wuxian dashes off to tell Wen Qing where her brother is. She hops up to hit the road with him, but then sorta-faints because she’s starving. In a rare moment of tenderness between these two, he catches her and gently sits her down again. 

Normally they’re busy out-toughing each other, both before and after this moment, but right now Wen Qing is openly vulnerable. Wei Wuxian responds to that, predictably, with all of his kindness and with his usual slew of unwise, impossible-to-keep promises.

As she eats the bread he’s brought her--a parallel to an important piece of bread in his early life--he says they have to believe in Wen Ning’s survival. Cut to: Wen Ning, not surviving. 

I mean, yes, yes, he’s only mostly dead, but he’s never going to be fully alive again, so.  

24 Hour Party People

Back at the party, Jin Guangyao, deliberately, I think, goes to offer his pops a drink while his pops is still super furious and looking for someone to take it out on. The servant lady is like, better you than me, pal, and helps JGY get his drink ready. Pops, predictably, knocks the drink onto Jin Guangyao.

(more behind the cut)

Lan Xichen is standing by with a hanky and a face full of worry. Lan Xichen is so Lanny that he thinks JGY needs to go change clothes after getting clear alcohol spilled on him, rather than just letting it evaporate and smelling pleasantly of booze for the rest of the evening like a normal party guest. 

JGY launches into a criticism of Wei Wuxian, which Lan Wangji listens to very carefully, frowning. Lan Xichen, Nie Huasang and Jiang Cheng listen as well, and don’t speak up. 

A Clear Conscience

Then Lan Wangji *literally* steps out of his brother’s shadow, and speaks in defense of Wei Wuxian. This right here is Lan Wangji’s turning point, as far as I’m concerned. Xichen is gazing at JGY, totally on board with JGY’s spin of the situation, and his shadow falls away from Lan Wangji’s face as LWJ steps forward.

Lan Wangji says, isn’t what WWX said true? JGY puts on his customer service smile and says that the truth isn’t something you’re supposed to go around saying out loud. 

I’d like to say this is what’s wrong with cultivator society but this is really a universal human thing; every society has rules about upsetting the social order, and they are very frequently at odds with basic compassion and morality. 

Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng stay silent but Lan Xichen goes and throws Wei Wuxian under the bus carriage, saying his character has changed. 

Lan Wangji nods decisively at this, and bows to Lan Xichen, silently asking permission to follow Wei Wuxian. Lan Xichen grants permission, telling Lan Wangji to do his best. Lan Xichen probably thinks he and Lan Wangji are in agreement, in this moment, but that nod of Lan Wangji’s was nothing of the kind.

That nod was Lan Wangji agreeing with himself; he is going to try to bring Wei Wuxian back but he is also going to listen to him.  Meanwhile Lan Xichen is tying himself in knots to appease Jin Guangyao. The divergence between the brothers will just grow, from this point onwards.

Lan Wangji leaves to go follow his boyfriend conscience, while Jiang Cheng continues to silently listen to the commentary of others, and gets so mad he crushes a wine cup.

It Was A Dark and Stormy Night.

Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian arrive at the prison camp, and the first person they encounter is Granny, with a defaced Wen Banner in her hand and Wen Yuan on her back. 

Whenever I read a meta or a fic that talks about how the juniors are so sweet partly because they are “untouched by the war” I want to point to this moment. A-Yuan endures an absolute truckload of war trauma by the time he’s four years old, and while Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji both deserve a lot of credit for saving him at great risk to themselves, Granny and Uncle Four are the first heroes of A-Yuan’s story. His kind, mellow personality has a lot in common with theirs. 

This is followed by an eternity of Wen Qing running around asking if anyone’s seen her brother. Eventually Wei Wuxian gets tired of this and gathers the guards together, threatening them with Chenqing. 

He doesn’t need to play it; just holding it up has every Jin dude instantly kneeling and scared. 

The guards send him and Wen Qing go to a giant field of corpses, where Wen Qing runs around checking to see if any of them is her brother. Wei Wuxian starts off kind of detached and angry, but eventually snaps out of it, tucks away his flute and starts helping her to search. 

Wen Qing finds Wen Ning, mostly-dead with a lure flag speared into his belly. Wei Wuxian grimly takes in the situation from across the field of corpses. 

When he arrives at Wen Qing’s side he sees this talisman in Wen Ning’s hand. 

This is the talisman that Wei Wuxian made for Wen Ning back in Gusu summer school, before the war. It’s the one that Wen Ning was wearing at his waist when they met up after the massacre of Lotus Pier. It’s supposed to literally protect Wen Ning from having his spiritual consciousness snatched, as well as being a symbol of Wei Wuxian’s sense of responsibility for, and affection for, Wen Ning. 

Wei Wuxian, understandably, loses his shit at this point. Less understandably, he is about to decide that the best way to express his sorrow and rage is to re-animate the corpse of his friend, right in front of the corpse’s sister. Like, seriously, dude. Dude. 

Ghost General

This super-questionable decision leads to one of the most badass sequences in the show, which is unfortunately chock full of lightning flashes, so not everyone can watch it. Wei Wuxian and his flute and swirls of resentful energy come marching out of the darkness of the corpse field, back to the guards. 

The guards have decided to slaughter all of the prisoners and then run away, which would be a good plan except they should really have skipped right to the running away part of things. When Wei Wuxian accuses them of killing the prisoner in the corpse field, they claim that the Wens have a habit of falling off of a hill and dying. Wei Wuxian can relate. 

At this point Wei Wuxian summons up Wen Ning 2.0, ultra badass edition, who comes flying through the air with his odd, straight-armed fighting stance and cool solid-black eyes and rock-and-roll hair. 

Soundtrack: *Four Sticks*

Wen Ning proceeds to whale on the guards and scare the shit out of his relatives.

Then Wen Qing shows up and begs Wei Wuxian to stop. She explains that Wen Ning is only mostly dead. Like, if he was fully dead would she be okay with this? 

Wei Wuxian tries to reel Wen Ning in and realizes that he is not actually in control of Wen Ning. Ok, see, right from the first day of Wen Ning 2.0, WWX is aware that his control is iffy. Why does he think he’s going to be able to control him later? 

Anyway, this is where we learn Wen Ning’s grown-up name is Wen Qionglin. Wei Wuxian yells this name, and Wen Ning looks up like a cat hearing the “food noise,” and then proceeds to get control of himself. 

This is such a nice symbolic moment, that will be replayed later in the temple, when Wen Ning saves Jin Ling from Baxia. 

Wen Ning has a remote-code-execution OS vulnerability throughout the story; his soul is at risk of being stolen, and he is magically controlled by Wei Wuxian, Xue Yang, Su She, and Baxia.  Meanwhile Wen Qing, Wei Wuxian, and random kids on the street mostly treat him as a child, despite his clear adult capabilities. Wen Ning’s journey in The Untamed is at least partly about asserting his full adulthood, and his ability to overcome magical control is directly connected to that journey.  

After getting Wen Ning to chill, Wei Wuxian calls the floating resentful energy back into his own body, which looks about as comfortable as swallowing a burp. 

On the plus side, apparently resentful energy keeps your hair dry even when it’s raining.

Wei Wuxian should take a page from the guards’ book and slaughter all the Jin witnesses to this situation, but he decides to be the better person and let them live. They go running off down the road, where they encounter Lan Wangji and give him the 411, saying that Wei Wuxian resurrected dead people.

Meanwhile Wei Wuxian collects Wen Qing--half-fainted, again, in an echo of the start of their journey--and collects the Dafan Mountain Wen group, who are hiding, wisely. When they see Wen Ning, Uncle Four and some others start to freak out, but Wei Wuxian tells them that fierce corpses are cool, and they all grab horses and mount up.

Where Are You Going?

Lan Wangji is waiting for them, nonconfrontationally indulging in some visual poetry while he waits. 

In a show where every prop is exquisitely, carefully designed to enhance our understanding character, his Gusu-toned umbrella reveals surprising red and yellow threads woven in, right above his eye line as he looks at Wei Wuxian. 

Wei Wuxian speaks first, saying “you came to stop me?” Lan Wangji doesn’t answer, but asks him where he’s going. Then Lan Wangji warns him that he’s about to abandon orthodoxy forever, if he follows through. 

Wei Wuxian challenges this idea of orthodoxy, asking if Lan Wangji remembers the promise they made together, back in Gusu. It’s worth noting that they both appear to think of it as a co-promise, even though Lan Wangji didn’t speak aloud at the time. 

The conversation will continue in the next episode, because what’s better than a rainy romantic cliffhanger?

Soundtrack: Four Sticks by Led Zeppelin

[fragilevixenfic]

My AO3 Fanfiction Links (Current)

“I’ve never really thought about making a “Master List” of my own work but I figured, now is the time to do so. If any of the links are incorrect just let me know. I fix. 

Adding in a “keep reading” tab because the list is starting to get long and intense.

Each fic is categorized and easily referenced. I’ll update as I go.

X Files

Series

Into The Shadows

XII (COMPLETE): A serial killer targets victims and leaves behind symbols of his affection -- but who is his intended target and what will it take to discover the truth? (This has a lot of trigger warnings)

Dance In The Dark (ONGOING Chapters 12/? Posted **UPDATED):  With the continuing murder trial of Miles, Mulder, Scully, and Max are confronted by the VCU with a case that seems to be mimicking the pattern by their, now infamous, psychopath on trial.

Echoes and Whispers

Parallel (COMPLETE):  The aftermath of the three little words that Mulder says to Scully in his hospital bed after being rescued from the Queen Anne as it re-appeared in the Bermuda Triangle...and the strange connection that Scully starts to feel to a memory that Scully couldn't possibly have.

Only The Night (ONGOING):  Mulder and Scully begin their undercover assignment as an engaged couple with the assistance of Skinner at the University of Maryland to catch a serial rapist, putting their newly formed physical bond to the test in this sequel to “Parallel”.

Casefics

Falling Away (COMPLETE):  Kersh’s assignment partially splits the team as Scully goes undercover under the watchful eye of Mulder as they both assist on an operation with SWAT and FBI personnel. (A gift for Greta)

Veritas se revēlet (COMPLETE):  (The title is roughly translated to let the truth be revealed in Latin) An impromptu wild goose chase leads Mulder and Scully to the drifts of a winter-locked Tonopah, Nevada—where a little more than the embodiment of Mulder’s imagination takes shape between the walls of the Mizpah Hotel in the dead of winter. (A gift for @monikafilefan)

She Walks at Night (COMPLETE):  Mulder’s knack for getting himself and Scully into sticky situations leads them to the heart of NOLA at the tail end of Hurricane season after barely surviving a Floridian storm—to investigate a rumor of a notable Voodoo Queen and missing girls trying to bring her back. (A gift for @starbuck09256)

Intrigues in the Dark (COMPLETE):   A string of suicides leads Mulder and Scully to a sleepy, coastal town in Oregon for the second time—on their return to The X File—as tensions run high and nothing is as it seems. (A gift for @admiralty-xfd)

By Light, Unseen (COMPLETE):   A series of re-opened cold case murders with one link…they’d been drained of every drop of blood and wore the same, haunting stare toward the sky with their lips aghast as if they were still screaming. (A gift for @serahsanguine)

Post-Series

A House is Not a Home (COMPLETE):  The mere thought of raising a newborn in a world full of horrors has every part of Scully’s emotional irrationality over firing on a chilly, winter evening. Mulder wants nothing more than to show her that not everything is gray and grim. (for @danceswithcybermen)

Remember the Reason (COMPLETE):  Post Series (Part 1 of the “Little Redhead Series”). Mulder and Scully already knew that life with a newborn would be difficult but the first Christmas with their two-month-old daughter throws every curveball…some worse than others, some more humorous. (For @underworldobsessed)

Confectioners Sugar & Snow Drifts (COMPLETE):  Post Series (Part 2 of the “Little Redhead Series”). Mulder spends the morning bonding with Eliana by having a Christmas baking session while Scully is out shopping for gifts. Messes, mayhem, and a healthy dose of laughter ensue. No moment is ever dull as the snow falls outside.

The Easter Bunny was a Fox (COMPLETE):  Post Series (Part 3 of the “Little Redhead” Series). Scully has to pick up Bill, Tara, and a couple of surprise family from the airport, leaving Mulder alone with their 6-year-old daughter, Eliana, on Easter Morning. All she has for him are curiosities as Easter’s non-Christian ideology unfolds before her eyes…creating the most unique bonding opportunity for a father and his daughter. (For Flicked_Switch)

Angst/UST/RST

Caught in the Rain (COMPLETE):  A dark, rainy night leads Mulder and Scully to a hole in the wall bar where glasses of Scotch and unresolved tension is re-visited.

Or We Can Burn (COMPLETE):  Post Never Again - expansion and continuation of the aftermath surrounding what Scully has been hiding from Mulder.

It Lingers (COMPLETE):  The aftermath of trauma and the lingering effects of Mulder’s risky attempt to recover the truth about Samantha’s abduction leads to a revelation from Scully about her own coping mechanisms and flashes into a past she doesn’t fully remember...and the path to which they lead thereafter. (For @red2007)

Fluff/Humor

Nervous Laughter (COMPLETE):  It’s been two full days since their tender, albeit brief, moment at the stroke of midnight and Mulder decides to be brave and methodical by inviting Scully over for a little movie and popcorn night for a film that has stayed locked in his mind as her favorite—The Exorcist. (This is a gift for @rationalcashew)

Lamplight & Shooting Stars (COMPLETE):  It’s Spring-time in DC and spontaneous, mutually taken vacation time has become a personal mission of Mulder’s to surprise Scully with so much more than an escape from their norm—and the unseasonable, uncomfortable city heat. (For @underworldobsessed)

Into the Nightlife (ONGOING):  A little paid vacation time never hurt anyone, right? (Not giving anything away this time)

Smut

Insomniac (COMPLETE):  Another lonely, sleepless night, another dingy motel, and another town that isn’t home for Mulder…but, something changed, with the last gasp of the air conditioner as his partner, and best friend, chooses to walk through the adjoining door. (Expanded writing exercise)

Vultus in Speculo (COMPLETE):  The last of the paperwork on the Strickland case has been finalized and filed and Scully goes off for a drink at a known FBI watering hole. Mulder is invited but doesn’t show up until after Scully is halfway through a drink—giving him an opening to inquire about a whole lot more than her flirtations with the Sheriff in the booth of a rooftop bar. (written for @msrheadcanon

Phosphorescence (COMPLETE):  Still reeling from their experience in North Carolina, Mulder and Scully take a much-needed excursion to the coast of Oregon, where a flicker of light becomes more than a curiosity in the middle of the night. (Written for @anniexami)

The Darker Side of Love (COMPLETE): Mulder does not want to talk but he does not want Scully to leave, either. (This is for the MSR fanzine vol 3)

Ficlets/Drabbles/Short Prompt Collection

Affirmations and Protestations: “Fluff and Angst” Prompts (ONGOING):  

 Chapter 1 - "You Weren't Supposed to Hear That" - prompt #5, 61, 77

Chapter 2 - "Shout!" - prompt #19, 61 (From Valerie)

Chapter 3 - "Litost" - prompt #1, 85, 97 (From Monika)

Chapter 4 - "Ad Infinitum" - prompt #42 (From Minuete)

Chapter 5 - "Brick" - prompt - After Scully calls Mulder in the ep Emily, she asks him to bring her some things from home. Her journal falls to the floor and Mulder sees some things written about him that she has never allowed him to know. (from Monika)

Chapter 6 - "I'd rather be oblivious" - prompt #46 (from Annie)

Criminal Minds

Angst/UST/RST

Dulce Periculum (COMPLETE):  Maxine and Spencer have continued seeing each other, in spite of the interference brought to the surface by Cat Adams. Spencer continues to work closely with the BAU after it nearly dismantled, with signature members scattering to the winds, leaving behind only a few, including himself, to keep working on their caseload. After a long, intense case, Spencer returns home to a little more than a can of worms. (A gift for an anonymous prompter)

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit

Angst/UST/RST

Chasing your Silhouette (COMPLETE):  They’d learned each other’s quirks and intricacies on the job—but when did it become over the line? When did physicality become a detriment to them once they’ve taken off their shields? When did they realize the line in the sand no longer existed? (This is meant to take place a couple weeks after “Zebras” – had to assume a timeline, I don’t remember actual dates)

Paternity Redux - Time Just Stopped (COMPLETE):  Her strength has always been immeasurable—but sometimes, something has to give and a string breaks. Nothing will ever be the same.“I’m trying my best, that is enough.” - UnknownThis is part of a challenge, to right a series of wrongs in an episode that has perpetrated many a discussion of “What Could Have Been”. WriterKC, Liv.Einziger, JustAnotherBookWorm78, MrsWellRested, EORocks, AlexisDawn, ChriskaPeach, and I have stepped up to the plate to do just that.

Oblivion (ONGOING 9/? Chapters posted ***UPDATED***):   The undercover operation in Oregon takes an unexpected, unpleasant turn for Olivia Benson as an injury turns her life, and career, upside-down leaving her with pieces of her memory scattered in the wind.

Humor

Unlock the Door (TENTATIVELY COMPLETE 2/2):   Olivia returns home from a celebratory series of shots with Kim Greylek and lets Elliot Stabler hear a little more than she ever intended to in the aftermath.

Series

Polaroids and Promises (COMPLETE):   The Special Victims Unit has undergone an enormous amount of changes in the past six months, to the point that they are drastically undermanned—until a transfer from the 13th precinct brings new life, and a little chaos, to the team. Will her addition prove to be a permanent shift or a flash in the pan?

Discarded Dignity (COMPLETE):   Elora continues to gain much-needed confidence as a member of the Special Victims Unit but an arrival booked for trespassing, assaulting an officer, and disorderly throws her progress into chaos as her past jumps to the surface. Will she be able to look beyond the misstep to solve one of the most convoluted cases she’s faced? 

Contract Corruption (ONGOING 10/?):   Dickie Stabler and Justin Andrisani are in over their heads--and the members of SVU and the Organized Crime task force must come together in order to set things right.

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit/Organized Crime Crossover

Series

Words of love, words of lies, words of loss

Age of Regret (COMPLETE):  Elliot Stabler has never been good with words but ten years and a double on the rocks in a lonely room will make a man pour his heart out…in any way that he can.

Infidelis (COMPLETE): Elliot had been haunted by too many ghosts; expectations, fantasies, and a promise that he knew should never be kept. It was time to lay them all to rest. “I do not regret you…I regret what you did to me.” - Unknown

[pikahlua]

Predicting the rest of the MHA series generally a.k.a. answering 14 asks in one go

The sheer volume of asks I’ve received in the last week asking about my predictions for future chapters, especially regarding Izuku and Katsuki’s future interactions since chapter 322 came out, has been honestly astounding.

So let me give y’all a blueprint for my answers, and then you can go search for your own question below the cut.

Premise: Everything since the war arc has been parallel to the events of the series until now.

The latest arc is full of parallels to prior moments in the series.

The war arc is just Katsuki Bakugou Origin all over again.

The goal to save Shigaraki visually parallels elements of the mission to rescue the kidnapped Katsuki from the Kamino arc as well as the symbolic imagery in their childhood like the bug-catching and the pond.

Shouto’s goal to save Dabi resembles elements of his sports festival match against Izuku.

There’s that whole resemblance between Katsuki and the second OFA user.

The conversation Izuku and All Might have with Inko in the hospital is a continuation of their post-Kamino parent-teacher conference.

Endeavor’s late arrival to save Deku due to the weather was foreshadowed in the Endeavor Agency arc.

Izuku leaving All Might resembles both his encounter with All Might in chapter 1 and the rescue of Katsuki in the Kamino arc.

Chapter 318 resembles the sludge villain incident of chapter 1.

Chapter 319 calls back to Deku vs Kacchan Part 0.

Everyone’s attempts to reach Izuku in chapters 320-322 reference prior events, such as Mineta’s admiration of Izuku’s spirit during the USJ arc.

Katsuki’s chapter 322 apology calls back to the Endeavor Agency arc as well as key moments in Deku vs Kacchan, Part 2 (and potentially calls forward to more future events.)

Ochako’s trial foreshadowed at the end of chapter 322 calls back to the sports festival, the Overhaul arc, and the Joint Training arc.

Basically, it’s like the last few chapters have been an accelerated summary of the rest of the MHA story that came before it. We just got a crash course in everything from chapter 1 through the Kamino arc (and maybe even a bit more).

You wanna know what happens next? I imagine all you have to do is look backward.

We’ll probably get one last school-centric arc, though the light-heartedness of it is questionable at best

Deku vs Kacchan 3 comes after that

Then the final arc (read as: something like the Overhaul arc)

There could be more mini-arcs in there than those, but given what we generally know about how much of the story is left, those seem like the gimme arcs that remain.

Okay, anons, come get yours.

It would be the best-case scenario for Ochako’s character arc to go in that direction. I don’t think she’ll be taking on this task alone, however. That’s just a little too unbelievable. I think she’ll have help...

We got a few callbacks to the Stain arc, but I don’t know how much that’ll come back. The important parts remaining are Stain’s admiration of All Might now coming face-to-face with what All Might has become in retirement. I think Stain had such a big influence on society that it’s very likely he’ll be useful again in this regard. All Might and Stain both are marked as charismatic figures that shaped society into what it had become and is currently becoming.

If they are in the car together, they could be on their way to UA. They could end up backing up Ochako as she tries to talk down the mob. Hell, Hawks could even be in the car with them. We could have a tag-team effort in getting the mob on the side of the heroes again.

Or maybe Ochako and Hawks fly everyone back into UA campus over the mob lol.

Or even better: maybe the upcoming potential school-centric arc challenges the mob to live as the heroes do. Maybe they will get a taste of the UA curriculum and develop an appreciation for what the student heroes go through. Maybe we’ll get Literally Everyone vs. Izuku or Class 1-A. That’d be...something.

Hell yeah, REALLY soon, if my skeletal theory holds up. I mean, Horikoshi wouldn’t just mention them and never deliver on that. We even got the hint after the remedial course that the schools were talking about linking up for future joint training.

Shit, Shishikura meeting Stain re: the above answer?  H e l l   y e a h.

Never say never, my friend.

There are so many ways in which it can still happen.

The reason it couldn’t happen here, why I didn’t want it to happen here, is because it’s the wrong location.

Don’t get me wrong: Kamino is close. Most of the major developmental moments between these two happen in urban landscapes (the exception being the forest/pond in their childhood). Even the final exam took place at Ground Beta.

At the very least, there has to be a road with painted lines.

(What’s that? Did I just imply something about the Endeavor Agency arc’s ending? I don’t know what you’re talking about.)

Katsuki got tons of time to think post-Kamino. Hell, he even had a day to consider Izuku’s sudden quirk manifestation before their first combat training against each other. It only makes sense that Izuku will get his time to process before the true Deku vs Kacchan, Part 3 confrontation.

There are so many things such a confrontation could be about. Can Katsuki hold his own against Izuku, thus earning him a spot fighting alongside him as a team? Will Katsuki have even properly healed by this point? Will this be a contest of strength, or perhaps something else entirely? I love a good subversion, and an anticlimactic joke thrown in there for laughs? Horikoshi uses this trope in some of my favorite ways.

Oh, you read my mind.

If Deku vs Kacchan, Part 3 is played straight, then Izuku has to prove he’s made OFA his own in order to defeat Katsuki.

I’ll just say this: How can Izuku possibly make the case that he’s made OFA his own if he hasn’t unlocked the Second’s quirk yet?

Shit, who has been at the center of just about every one of OFA’s quirk awakenings in the first place?

Motherfuckin’ Katsuki Bakugou.

DvK1 (in flashback):

DvK2:

It’ll be DvK3 for sure.

Either that or rescuing an exhausted, limb-shattered Izuku at the very, very end, lol.

Katsuki has a tendency to be unconscious in the nurse’s office lol.

Though honestly: WHERE IS RECOVERY GIRL? WHY IS KATSUKI STILL INJURED?

I kinda like the idea that maybe he refused treatment until he could apologize to Izuku, actually.

Nah, like, that would go over well in fanfic, but Horikoshi doesn’t waste time. He clearly tries to get out of the slow scenes quickly, or at least his editors push him to do so. These two idiots? They talk best with their fists and high-capacity lungs. We gettin’ DvK3 for that one.

@reaperhart

Again, I don’t think Katsuki necessarily needs a power-up.

He was still injured during Kamino. That’s why he couldn’t handle the speed that Iida’s body could take. And Katsuki has defeated All Might before, albeit with help (although honestly not THAT much as Izuku was pretty half-hearted in his participation).

And honestly, Katsuki could go into this as a team leader with class 1-A vs Izuku and I’d still count it. I still say class 1-A is Katsuki’s One For All.

But even by himself, if you give him time to heal? I think we’ve got a really exciting match on our hands.

It already kind of had been. I do think there are still things to resolve though. I have said before that their relationship is appealing for how it changes literally every time we see them. There are still some feelings they need to air, particularly on Izuku’s side. Ultimately, the trajectory of their relationship is toward an easier friendship, probably a strong teamwork/nakama dynamic being the safest assumption. Are we at the full resolution yet? God I hope not. Their drama is much too fun.

In Japan, switching the name you call someone is kind of a big deal. It’s a huge acknowledgement in the shift of a dynamic. I think the use of “Deku” and “Kacchan” as nicknames has been a narrative symbol of how both of them are still stuck in the past when it comes to each other, how their relationship is still developmentally young. Katsuki saying “Izuku” symbolizes maturity. Izuku saying “Katsuki” could mean the same. However, it doesn’t have to go in that direction either. I’d be fine either way.

If they’re on the battlefield, Katsuki is almost certain to call him “Deku” because that’s his hero name. That’s who he is on missions. So at least we can look forward to that.

Plus, “Deku” could come to mean something a little different between them anyways.

He kind of already had one? Maybe a death scare on Izuku’s part would be more realistic. On Katsuki’s end though? Seems...repetitive after chapter 285.

I think there’s plenty of potential for dramatic angst on the battlefield between these two that doesn’t rely on Katsuki having a near-death experience, especially since that would undermine his point that he can fight alongside Izuku.

Heck, DvK3 could have a twist ending, say, with a kidnapping or two? An invasion, perhaps? The possibilities there are pretty much endless.

(I won’t take you to task on suggesting Katsuki has a villain counterpart he needs to defeat, though).

(The theory you’re referencing.)

I actually know very little about Spider-Man, or most of the things Horikoshi references, to be honest. But I mean...I’ve seen the imagery, and I’ve heard people talk. I hope people will point out to me any parallels they see should they happen. :)

You have said nothing with which I disagree.

Not that I think it will necessarily happen that way, but those things are definitely on my short list of high possibilities.

The most important meta I hope I can write soon I vaguely alluded to at the end of this post as well as earlier in this response post, and that’s how the Overhaul arc could come back in a big way for the finale of the MHA story.

It’s all there.

[multifandomterrors]

The Orpheum Theory

This little essay is inspired by my own post and the additions made by sunsetnerve and norakeinwitz. Thanks for your additions to my little theory I loved reading them.

Now, I understand that at the end of the day, this is a kids show. It’s made for kids. However, the demographic didn’t really end up what they thought it was going to be. So this is just a theory I came up with because I think like a college student, so I analyze like a college student. At the end of the day, it’s a theory. Could be a reach for a kids show, but it’s a thematically sound theory when analyzed like a regular piece of art.

Julie and the Phantoms is full of hidden symbolism and many different motifs. The motif we will be discussing today is: The Orpheum Theater.

As we know, the Orpheum is a huge component of the show and the big climax revolves around the Phantoms being able to play “the show they never got to play.” At first glance, it’s just a theater where musicians play. Well, your friendly neighborhood creative writing major is here to show you otherwise.

First, let’s talk about motifs and symbols for those who are unaware of the difference.

Symbols - signify an idea or emotion e.g. red stands for blood

Motifs - a recurring element or idea that repeats throughout a piece of work e.g. stairs in Bong Joon Ho’s Parasite.

A motif is a symbol, but a symbol is not necessarily a motif.

The biggest motif present in JATP is the use of butterflies but that’s a different discussion for a different post.

Another motif that may go unnoticed is the Orpheum Theater.

This venue is mentioned multiple times throughout the season and is the climax of the show. Let’s talk symbolism.

If it were any other theater, I would’ve just went “Nah they just want to play the show of course, it’s their dream.” However, what stuck with me was how the Orpheum is presented in JATP. (It looks nothing like the actual Orpheum Theater in LA by the way).

The theater is tiny. It looks like it could have a capacity of 50 people. 75 if we’re being generous. This begs the question, why this Orpheum? Why not the Roxy? The Dolby Theater? The Greek? Why specifically this tiny venue? Why not aim for a larger theater?

Next, we have to look at its name. Orpheum. Does it look familiar?

Orpheum means “House of Orpheus.” As in the Orpheus of Orpheus and Eurydice. For those of you who are not into Greek mythology and stories or if you just haven’t heard of the musical, Hadestown, let me give you a (very) brief rundown of the story.

Orpheus is a musician who is in love with Eurydice. Eurydice dies a tragic death and finds her way to the Underworld to be with Hades, god of the dead. Orpheus, understandably, is heartbroken by this. So he finds a way to travel to find Eurydice and Hades. He strikes a deal with Hades. If he could lead Eurydice out of the Underworld, she’ll live again. The catch? Orpheus cannot turn around. He just has to trust that she’s following him. In the end, Orpheus doubts himself at the last second (like literally “maybe a few feet away from the exit” last second) and turns around. Eurydice was actually following him the whole time, but he failed. She stays dead.

Now let’s discuss parallels.

Julie = Orpheus

talented musician

in love with a person who died tragically

desperate to save them

Luke = Eurydice

dead

trapped by a person who controls the dead

Caleb = Hades

controls the dead

Caleb owns the souls of the people in the Hollywood Ghost Club

Hades is the god of the dead

therefore, Hollywood Ghost Club = Underworld

Now this is where I explain how this parallel and motif play into the show with my own original theory and the modified theories due to the additions of sunsetnerve and norakeinwitz. Again, thanks for reblogging with them!

Theory 1

We’re aware of the parallels. We’re aware of the original story and how season 1 played out. Originally, I felt as if this motif would play out further into the show. I felt as if this were the foundation of a bigger fight between JATP and Caleb. Eventually, Julie would have to try and save Luke from the HGC and Caleb and ultimately fail (because I love angst but I will throw in some “kids show” magic and say that Luke is fine in the end). But let’s go with a happier ending.

Theory 2

This was brought to my attention by sunsetnerve. In her reblog, the Orpheum theory made its run through the first season only. This also makes sense, taking into account the scene with You Got Nothing to Lose. This is when Caleb takes hold of Luke and the other Phantoms. Julie brings them back (somehow) for Stand Tall. Here is where JATP will diverge from the original Greek story. Orpheus fails. Julie succeeds. If you’re an Harry Potter fan, think of it like that old Tumblr post that describes how Harry and his friends were parallels of James and his friends, only they were better and they learned from the past. Julie is Orpheus, the difference is that she knows better. Now we introduce the lyrical genius of the songwriters.

Let’s take another look at the Orpheus and Eurydice summary. In order to save Eurydice, Orpheus cannot turn around.

With that in mind, let’s take a look at the lyrics to Stand Tall.

“Cause everything is rushing in fast

Keep on going, never look back.”

Julie sings a line about not turning around. Once again, Julie is Orpheus, she just knows better.

She thinks she can help free them from Caleb. Julie already thinks that she’s lost the Phantoms. Orpheus thinks he can help free Eurydice from Hades. He refuses to believe he’s lost her. Julie is at peace, Orpheus is not.

Julie performs at the Orpheum even though she thinks it’s too late. She doesn’t hesitate. And when she was tested and she doubted, she did not let it overtake her. Orpheus was tested and he was consumed by the paranoia.

Julie kept going. She didn’t turn around.

Orpheus stopped. He turned around.

The result? Julie saves the Phantoms from Caleb. Orpheus loses Eurydice to Hades.

Julie wins.

Theory 3

This was presented to me by norakeinwitz who noticed the Orpheus connection too. They added on to both mine and sunsetnerve’s points. Except they played more towards the idea that despite the fact Julie knows better, Julie is still Orpheus. She can’t help it.

Julie performs. She doesn’t stop. She erases her doubt. The Phantoms perform at the Orpheum.

Julie doesn’t turn around then. She turns around later.

At the end of the day, Julie is still Orpheus.

She goes back to the studio anyway. She turns around to look at them one more time.

Now here are my thoughts about this.

Julie turns around, but not for the same reasons as Orpheus.

Orpheus let doubt into his mind. All he had to do was trust that Eurydice was following him. He was tested, he panicked, he looked back. He turned around before the tunnel ended because he was afraid that she was gone.

Julie erased her doubt. She didn’t let it in. She pressed forward even with the idea that she’s never seeing them again. She was tested, she panicked, she didn’t look back…yet. She looked back after she left the Orpheum and went straight to the studio instead of going straight to bed. She turned around after the tunnel ended because she made peace with the fact that they were gone.

Orpheus turned around because he was clinging to fear. Julie turned around because she let go of fear.

She made peace with death. As a result, she saved the Phantoms.

Orpheus was angered by death. As a result, he lost Eurydice.

Julie is Orpheus, but Orpheus is not Julie.

They follow the same path, but Julie made it to the end.

[seacottons]

Silent Song of the Sea

Yeosang’s lured and drowned many humans in the sea with his captivating voice. Fortunately, Wooyoung was deaf.

pairings: yeosang x wooyoung, san x reader

wc: 24k+

genre: siren!au, medieval times, royalty!au

warnings: supernatural beings, disabilities, language, blood, angst, gore, fluff, graphic violence, minor character death, domestic abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse, implications of suicide, emotional trauma, mental health issues, unprotected sex, crazy reader(?), shiny yeosang

there was a problem with the html, so i had to reupload this. : (

You were twelve years of age when news broke out in your town of a boy who washed up on shore, along with a broken and tattered rescue boat. Chowing down on your breakfast in the dining hall amongst the other orphans, you overheard a few of the workers speaking about the young boy who spent days in the hospital, the town wondering where he came from. It was later that afternoon, when you were huddled with the rest of the other children in the yard that the director bought the young boy to introduce him to everyone. You struggled to peek from the taller children to catch a glimpse of the male, but you were shoved back slightly, the boys in front of you sneering, “Watch it, pipsqueak.”

Wooyoung was twelve years of age when he witnessed a young, tiny, frail child squabbling with a pair of boys. Gasps broke out within the group of children as a fist flew, followed by the crying of one of the young children. Wooyoung’s curious eyes never left your form as you were forcibly dragged inside by your ear, your fist smeared with the boy’s blood. You appeared to be shouting and stomping your feet in retaliation as you were dragged into the housing facility.

It was later that week when you were walking down the hall back to the children’s living space, when you noticed a group of four children surrounding the new kid, who huddled against the wall, beads of tears pooling in his eyes. “Why don’t you talk!” the tallest of the bunch growls in frustration, “You’re no fun at all!”

“Maybe he’s just stupid?” another girl quips, flicking her forefinger against Wooyoung’s forehead, sending the four into a pit of laughter and teasing. A wet squelch broke the train of laughter, and Wooyoung’s jaw dropped at the sight of the opened closet, brooms scattered onto the tiled floor, and you thrusting the wet, dripping mop into one of the children’s faces. Chaos ensued; a squeal of protest from one of the girls, loud footsteps, and bickering filled your ears. “(Y/n)! What do you think you’re doing!?” a worker tugged the mop out of your grasp, tugging you up with an arm securely fastened onto your tummy. You twisted in her hold, palms jutting out against her jaw in protest as you struggled to escape her grip.

“They were bullying Wooyoung!” you cried, and the four kids could only cower and deny your claims, their eyes flashing with fear, “Yes, you were! He’s crying! You said he was stupid!”

The worker stilled, and her eyes narrowed at the four children. A sigh escaped her as she settled you down, a stern expression painting her features, “For once, I think I’ll let you go. As for you four, to the director’s office. Now.” 

You laughed smugly at the sight of the four trudging begrudgingly behind the woman, and you gasped in realization when you remembered the young boy. When your head snapped in his direction, he flinched, eyes wary and hands hurriedly reaching up to wipe his tears away. 

“Y’know, you should really learn how to fight back,” you started, “They deserve a broken tooth or two.” He stared back at you, eyes flickering nervously as he fidgeted in place. You frowned, trying again, “Are you scared of them?  I mean, Minjae is ugly— I would be scared of him too.” The boy’s gaze  mirrored that of the gaping fish that stared at you from their tank in the director’s office. 

You quirked a brow, arms crossing in front of your chest, “Okay. You don’t have to fight. I’ll fight for you. Just say my name, and I’ll be there. I’m (y/n).” Wooyoung’s hesitant hands reached up point two fingers at you, and he shook his head while cupping his hands around the shells of his ears. Suddenly, you understood, face leaning uncomfortably close to his as your jaw dropped, “You can’t hear me!?” You understood when his hands made a motion, your brows raising up in curiosity, “Oh, you use sign language? I don’t really know that. I can draw for you, though. Come on, I’ll show you!”

You were permitted to walk around town for a few hours every day before dinner, and the first place you wanted to visit was the library, much to Wooyoung’s confusion, “My friend, San, owns this library! I mean- his mom, but I’m pretty sure they have a sign language book here we can borrow! San taught me how to write and read, y’know. Maybe we can find a book on how to find your memories too! Oh- wait.. I forgot, sorry. You can’t hear me,” You attempted to use hand signals to display your words, but Wooyoung only chuckled at your failed attempt. You swiftly pulled out your tattered sketchbook, and after a few messy, stick figure drawings, he nodded in acknowledgment. You were met with the sight of San helping his mother place a few books in the high shelves of the library, you bellowed out his name loudly, startling both him and his mother. The woman only giggled underneath her breath whilst her son was quick to shush you with a stern glare, “(Y/n)! You’re in a library!” His gaze suddenly drifted the boy behind you, who wore a similar outfit to your own, freezing immediately and grumbling lowly, “Why are you with one of the orphan boys? I thought you said they’re all gross?” His mother scolded him quietly for the choice of his words, and sent her a pout in return, “Stop embarrassing me in front of my friend!”

You quickly explained to both of them Wooyoung’s lack of memories and situation, and and how you insisted on learning sign language to communicate with him, not noticing San’s eyes narrowing in on the nervous lavender haired boy. San’s mother nodded, smiling and reaching over to ruffle your hair. You caught a glimpse of purple and blue marks underneath the sleeve of her shirt as she told you to wait while she searched for the books you needed. A faint speck of purple was also seen on San’s tummy as he reached up to gently push a book back in place.

“We’re not partners in crime anymore if you’re going to replace me,” San grumbled, fingers idly tracing the spines of the books to his right. “He’s not replacing you, dummy,” you cried defensively, tugging Wooyoung by the wrist and startling him, “He’s going to join us. We can even let him in on our secret.”

San’s eyes rounded comically, before they narrowed, finger jutting out in accusation, “You wouldn’t. We agreed it’ll just be us two taking over the world.” “But he probably wants to go on adventures too,” you offered, “Please? We’ll be like the three muskrats!”

“I’m not letting anyone join our pirate club, no,” he crossed his arms, voice firm and head tilting to the side in protest, “And it’s musketeers, not muskrats, you bum.”

San’s mother returned with a stack of books for you, explaining everything you needed to know. She tugged on your cheek, laughing brightly at the sound of your protest as you shyly swatted it away, “It’s very mature and thoughtful of you for doing this, (y/n). You can come here every day to practice with San. He’ll make time to learn with you.”

“Learn? I never agreed to have extra lessons!” It was later that week that the town of Aurora held a coming-of-age ceremony for the young prince on a Friday night. He was a few years older than you, and you’ve caught glimpses of him every so often when you hung out with San in town. 

Wooyoung, San, and you dressed appropriately, with your town’s traditional garbs. Mrs. Choi, bless her soul, took the three of you shopping beforehand, explaining how today was a very important day for the town and the royal family. San appeared miffed at his slicked back hair, and Wooyoung appeared to enjoy to the texture of the garments as his hands wouldn’t stop rubbing the silky, colorful material, fingers tracing the numerous embroidered floral patterns on the cuffs of his sleeves.

Mrs. Choi left the three of you to walk about, only if you promised you wouldn’t get into trouble. With a bag of silver coins, you three tromped between the crowds, visiting different booths to ogle at the treats displayed. The town was illuminated with an array of colorful lights hung from building to building. Signs and images of the young prince were displayed on every wall, pole, and building. As you munched on your roasted corn, guards of the royal family barked at the crowd to make space for the carriages and other matching guards to pass through. San tugged your sleeve and pointed to the golden palanquin held by four, large guards, the maroon velvet curtains tied to the corners, exposing the young boy sitting peacefully inside. He smiled at the crowd, turning left and right to wave as the guards marched in between the two parallel lines of people.

Whilst San was attempting to remember the hand signs to explain to Wooyoung was happening, you squinted, standing up on your tip-toes to have a better look at the prince. You clambered up on a wooden box, smiling in satisfaction at the better view, before peeking down at the two boys, “Why is the prince wearing such an ugly coat? It looks weird.”

“Watch your mouth, kid.” “That coat is the skin of a siren. It is a symbol of honor and bravery, brat.”

San paled at the harsh words, glancing nervously at the glares of the nearby townspeople, before swatting at your calf with a harsh whisper, “Moron, you can’t say things like that about the royals in public! That coat is tradition for the royal family!” Rolling your eyes at his exasperated tone, you offered a hand to Wooyoung, motioning him to stand with you to get a better view of the all the action. San attempted to follow suit, huffing in anger when he found no space for him to stand. Reaching for the pole beside him, he swiftly shimmied himself up, silently thanking the swordsmanship classes he was forced to partake in.

The prince’s eyes examined almost every face in the crowd. He met yours, and despite hating his attire, you couldn’t help but blush at the piercing gaze. You could’ve sworn his eyes widened at the boy beside you, but you didn’t have time to ponder as Wooyoung signed for you that he was hungry. You paused, eyes squinting in thought, before recognition flashed in your mind.

You nodded, pointing to his belly, to which he nodded in agreement. You dragged a reluctant San and a happy Wooyoung through the crowd, unaware of a pair of eyes lingering on your three forms.

Two months later, San began finally warming up to Wooyoung, much to your pleasure. To finally welcome the newest addition to your ‘Pirate Adventure Club’, he presented three twine bracelets, all with one cowrie shell intertwined in the middle,”Pirates give these to their friends, so they’ll never be apart no matter what.” “I don’t remember that in the pirate guidebook,” you mumbled, blinking at the boy.

“I made it up,” he grumbled bashfully, helping Wooyoung tie the twine on his wrist, “Don’t tell Wooyoung I said that, or else he won’t think I’m cool anymore.”

At fifteen years of age, both San and yourself became proficient at sign language, so much so that sometimes you would often find yourself teasing him with foul signs rather than doing so verbally. He would shove you away, red ears and furrowed brows as Wooyoung laughed beside him, “Stop polluting Wooyoung’s head with that nonsense!”

The three of you became infamous in town. The Troublesome Trio.

When San first informed you about the given title, you cackled, asking who in their right mind came up with that ridiculous name. He shrugged as the three of you walked within the town’s square, Wooyoung quietly observing the pigeons huddled near the center fountain, “You're the one who always picks fights, and Wooyoung and I have to always save your ass, so maybe that’s why.”

San insisted on paying a visit to one of the small antique shops in town, promising to find rare trinkets owned by pirates that washed up on Aurora’s shores. The town was still bustling even in the evening, young kids chasing each other around the neighborhood alleys, vendors charming passersby with their pristinely washed produce, mountains of different colored spices, dry fruits and nuts. Other merchants were determined to attract arrays of customers by displaying the colorful, locally caught fish, eel, and crustaceans on beds of ice. Cats sat idle in every corner, their big eyes fixated on the fresh fish.

 Dry herbs hung from many of the tea shops, and vibrant fabrics blew gently with the soft breeze from the textile shops. A young man carried around baskets of fresh bottled milk, whilst another prepared slabs of butter and goat cheese for the market-goers, charming the people past with his smiles and beautiful notes, the seagulls crying overhead joining in the melody.

“Hey, guys. Look! Isn’t that Pipsqueak and Stupid?”

You furrowed your brows, lips pursing in an attempt to bottle your anger. You knew that obnoxious voice anywhere, and it was a surprise that a boy with a disgusting attitude like him found a home with a willing family. You hoped it was the last you would see him three years ago, but there he was, sitting on a barrel, legs spread and a cocky smirk on his face as he pointed to you, along with two others you recognized from the orphanage. You can tell from the way San’s shoulders stiffened that he intact did hear, eyes still glued ahead of him as he led the way to the merchant’s shop. “Hey! Is your boyfriend still too stupid to attend school?” Sometimes, you were grateful that Wooyoung was deaf, because you knew words like that would crush him. Despite lacking the sense of hearing, he picked up on skills much faster than San and yourself combined. San’s mother helped you learn math, and you quickly learned to hate it. Wooyoung, however excelled at such a pace that it left even San’s mother surprised. San also taught him techniques he learned during his swordsmanship classes, and now, not only were the two taller than you, but broader as well.

“I’m talking to you! Don’t ignore me!” A rock pelted against Wooyoung’s neck, startling him. San’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening in shock. Your eyes burned with disbelief at the sight of the smirking boy, who proudly adjusted his school uniform’s tie, silently bragging about how privileged he became after being adopted by one of the wealthier families in town.

Your hands grasped one of the thin wooden sticks of the fruit stalls beside you, the owner barking at you in protest, stuck behind the stand dealing with a few confused customers. San’s hands flew to grasp your elbow, a concerned Wooyoung gazing at you from behind him in confusion, “(Y/n)! Don't! He’s not worth it!” he insisted.

“Let me,” you spat, tugging your arm away and stomping towards the taller male, “I’ll stake him like the squealing pig he is.”

The three boys hunched over in laughter at your empty threat, nudging each other and surrounding you threateningly. Minjae threw his backpack to the side, hands reaching up to crack his knuckles, “I don’t hit kids, but since all you are is an angry demon no one wants, I don’t think anyone will mind me giving you a bruise or two. Maybe I should knock Stupid’s head too. He’ll probably start hearing afterwards, yeah?”

San protested, yelling out your name and sprinting to defend you, but before he was halfway across the cobblestone path, you threw the wooden stake aside, relying on your hands to pulverize the taller male in front of you. He tugged at your hair as you tackled him down, hands tugging at his tie, and aiming a punch at his nose, the sound of gravel crunching beneath your wrestling forms. The two of you rolled repeatedly on the cobblestones, feet kicking and fists flying, “You piece of shit, how dare you say those things about Wooyoung! I’ll rip out your tongue and feed it to the seagulls!”

Vendors and customers paused to watch the squabble, kids pointing and ushering their parents to see the commotion. You shoved Minjae onto one of the glass doors of a shop, the raised threshold clipping his ankle, leading to fall backwards into the glass. He growled, head snapping up to meet the eyes of his two friends, “Stop staring and help me out, cowards!”

Their faces grew pale at the sight behind the cracked glass doors, and after sharing a look, they nodded and hastily retreated. A look of disbelief washed over Minjae’s face, and your snicker only boiled his anger even further. With a growl, he tackled you down harshly onto the floor, your eyes widening at the sudden lunge. You didn’t even care at the taste of blood on your busted lip as you struck him in between the legs, eyes furious as you shoved him off, hands reaching up to wipe at your mouth,“Can’t handle a pipsqueak by yoursel—”

“What’s going on here?” Your eyes flickered to well polished shoes behind Minjae’s figure, traveling up to meet the eyes of the prince, crown shining in display, golden coat and pristine white leather sparkling underneath the golden hours of the evening. His face grew even more handsome since the last you’ve seen him, jaw becoming sharper, and eyes more mature. Behind him stood a taller male, hair as striking and vibrant as the crushed geranium flowers Mrs. Choi uses as rouge, “The Commander won’t be happy to hear about this, will he, Minjae?”

Minjae’s eyes widened in recognition, scrambling up to grab at his fallen backpack, his form tripping as he scurried off in fear. You stared at the gloved hand offered to you, and you gladly accepted it, the older male pulling you up onto your feet, “Ah, aren’t you that trio..”

His eyes trailed from your small stature to San and Wooyoung, his brown eyes lingering on the latter a bit longer. You dusted your attire, snorting at the sight of your panic stricken friends, “Yep. Just getting rid of rats on your streets, Hongjoong,” while not personally knowing the member of the royal family, you found comfort in the fact he wasn’t that much older than you and your friends. Surely, he’s just like other kids beneath the silk, leather, golden garments and dazzling jewelry.

The red-haired bodyguard, who didn’t seem that much older than you and your friends, glowered with piercing eyes at your smaller frame, disbelief clouding his eyes at the insolent behavior. 

San slapped his forehead, exasperation lacing his voice as he shouted in your ear, “He’s royalty! You can’t just call Prince Hongjoong by his name, (y/n)-”

Hongjoong lifted a palm, shaking his head, a gentle smile gracing his features, “That is quite alright. I don’t mind. Mingi here calls me Hongjoong, as well. It makes me feel.. ah, young, perhaps? Right, Mingi?” he swiveled his head slightly to eye the stoic guard.

“You’re not even that old, though,” you began, earning you a glare from both San and the prince’s bodyguard at your informal tone. Wooyoung awkwardly held onto your fallen hat, eyes trained on the prince’s mouth in order to attempt to read his lips.

“Ah, yes. You are correct,” Hongjoong simpered, white hair delicately styled and falling into his eyes as he spoke, “but when you have princely duties, it makes you forget that you are still so young.”

There was a hint of sorrow in his voice that you detected, one so subtle and faint like the salty smell of the ocean encasing your town. The smile he wore didn’t exactly reach his eyes, his lips stretching too wide for it to be out of genuine content. Your bloody lips parted, eyes wide as you spoke, softly this time, “You’re still a kid before you’re a prince. You should live a little and have fun every once in a while.”

He offered you a white handkerchief at the glimpse of blood dribbling down your chin, chuckling at the sight of your stunned and flushed expression at the sweet gesture, “You have a point, but maybe I will attempt something other than fighting.. rats in the street.”

His smile sent your face and neck flushing in embarrassment, and you were quick to wave him goodbye as he was pulled away by a few of his guards. Watching the carriage disappear, you failed to notice San glowering at you beside you as you ogled at the disappearing horses, “(Y/n), you can’t just keep picking fights like that. Must you always seek trouble?”

“He asked for it.”

‘(Y/n) is a bad influence. Don’t get any ideas, please,’ He signed to an amused looking Wooyoung.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t.

Your brows furrowed, watching the two exchange words silently, your arms crossing in annoyance.

‘Assholes.’

“(Y/n)!”

— At seventeen, the three of you came to conclusion just how cruel and dangerous the beings that lurked in the sea were. San had a rough night with his father again, and with his mother’s insistence, he joined you both to the beach to clear his mind of the suffocating negativity that filled his household. 

A large, canvas umbrella shielded the three of you from the blazing sun. Even from here, the sound of the town’s clock tower chiming, signaling noon, can be heard. San’s head rested on your lap, his straw hat covering his face as he dozed off to your fingers gently running through his dark locks. He was exhausted after hours of swimming and playing volleyball with other kids your age. Sand coated the skin between his toes and a small baby seagull occasionally circled around his legs, curiously eyeing the bag of chips you were sharing with Wooyoung.  

The other male sat to your right, attempting to sketch the shore and moss covered rocks that broke the waves’ paths. He absentmindedly sipped on a bottle of juice, brows furrowed in determined concentration, his back littered with specks of sand from being buried up to his neck by San.

Peering up from his half completed sketch, his eyes were drawn onto the tiny boats and hardy people paddle boarding yards away from shore, despite the occasional gusts of wind. The waves crashed loudly into the clusters of rocks, foam spraying high in the air with every roar of water. The blue waters of the ocean were so clear that often times children would run around chasing the languid fish that found themselves swimming past their feet near the shore. Pebbles and other tiny marine life can be spotted on the sandy bed, the webs of sunlight dancing on the surface. 

A sudden flash of a purple fin stopped him in his tracks, his eyes squinting to make out the form. Another turquoise tail fin breeched the surface, but just as quickly dove back into the water. The two paddle boarders paused, glancing curiously at the two heads that rose from the water. 

Wooyoung watched in confusion as the men dropped their paddles, jaws slackening and frames growing stiff, as if in a deep trance. It happened too fast for his mind to register clearly, but one second the men are standing on their boards, and the next they’re both diving in hastily. His eyes rounded, fingers losing their grip on his bottle, the pomegranate juice spilling onto his sketch, startling you. Before you asked, your head snapped to the direction of his gaze, but you wish you hadn’t.

“Is that a siren?” you heard out in the distance.

A blonde haired creature’s mouth suddenly clamped down onto the screaming man’s neck, angular teeth piercing the skin and severing veins and muscle as he threw his head back roughly, red flesh intact in his mouth. Red liquid glugs from the victim’s lips and the severed carotid, pumping red into the ocean. 

The screams were so shrill you swore they could curdle blood.

Claws pierce the man’s eye-sockets rupturing the globes with a sickening pop, the left eye dangling only by the stubborn, red optical nerve, leaving behind a bloody and empty pit. The siren’s unforgiving lashes met the victim’s face, sharp and jagged nails tearing the man’s visage and shredding his jaw.

Moments later, the creature dives into the water, turquoise tail flashing just before its disappearance. The corpse is suddenly tugged down with such intensity that the red seawater swashes roughly with a loud plop, sea foam being the only indication of movement. Feet away, his friend is met with the same fate. 

The tails breached the surface near a sailboat, the people in it suddenly halting their movements while listening to the sirens’ voices. Wooyoung didn’t need to hear the screams of the people swimming nearby. The wave of fear washing over everyone present at the beach was enough indication.

He gaped in horror, his eyes watching as the beach goers pulled frightened children out of the water, others frantically grabbing their belongings and rushing in hoards for safety, clouds of sand left in their wake. Sandpipers and seagulls flew amongst the crazed crowd, disturbed at the sudden chaos around them. 

San suddenly jerked awake at the sound of a loud siren ringing from one of the pop shacks at the beach. He sat up in surprise, hat falling into his lap, and hand clutching his chest in surprise.

“What happened!?”

That night, the King sent guards around town to announce the banishment of swimming and other ocean sports, threatening anyone who broke the law to be executed by enforced drowning. A team was sent to the beach to pick up the torn flesh and limbs of the victims that washed up on shore. It was a horrid sight, the stench of death prominent and wafting through even the smallest crevice of the town. 

The three of you paid a visit to the vigil honoring the five people killed that day, the images of the brutal deaths haunting both Wooyoung and yourself in your sleep. The two of you joined each other on the lower bunk, arms coiled around each other for a source of comfort no one else could provide you with. The once vibrant atmosphere of the bustling town was replaced with an eerily quiet one- one that was stained with an ugly shade of fear and melancholy. — You were eighteen years of age when were moved out from the orphanage to a facility that housed other orphans, agreeing to partake in labor to help provide for both yourself and the establishment. Wooyoung soon joined you, and as much as you wanted for him to be with a family of his own, you were still happy he stuck around with you. He felt like family. 

The two of you landed jobs aiding fishermen catch and deliver the locally caught fish to merchants and markets. You rolled the sleeves of poofy tunic up, fastened the tied cloth around your waist and winced at the sudden gust of wind that blew your wide-brimmed hat off your head in an instant. 

It was a typical day on the fishing trawler. You were miles away from the coast, Wooyoung and yourself aiding the fishermen haul fish into different compartments, picking out the other creatures that were caught along with the school of fish. A storm battered the ship, but not enough for the helmsman to steer the ship back to port, despite the crew’s growing concern. 

Wooyoung grasped your elbow as you slipped onto the deck, waves crashing against the sides of the vessel. You thanked him with a nod of acknowledgment, hand shakily grasping the railing, brown boots sliding with every sway of the boat. He pointed to the hatch, hoping you’ll understand his implications without the use of hand signs. He was clearly fed up with the lack of concern from the fishermen, urging you with his eyes to crawl inside for safety. 

You opened your mouth to word out a reply, when a sudden jerk to the left caused you both to lose your grip. Wooyoung’s hands stabilized himself against the deck, his face scrunched in pain at the impact of his fall, watching in horror as the vessel tilted dangerously, a wave impelling the sides and sweeping you away with it. His hand flew to grasp your foot, only managing to graze the bottom of your boot in the process.

He was quick on his feet to inform the closest person about you falling overboard. His hands desperately clutched the orange lifebuoy, throwing it to where he spotted your head bobbing within the harsh waves. 

You met his gaze, hands reaching to grab the ring, when you felt a clawed hand grasp your ankle. In the time it took you to knit your brows in confusion at the sensation, you suddenly gasped in realization, earning you only a few more milliseconds of air before you were swiftly plunged down into the raging ocean. You were welcomed with the deafening roar of your heartbeat in your ears and the burning sensation in your sinuses. Beams of sunlight occasionally shined within the raging waters before they disappeared behind the dark plumes of clouds.

You hadn’t properly prepared to take a deep breath, your mouth parting open in shock at the sight of a beautiful, black haired man. Your stunned eyes were suddenly drawn to his puckering gills and outstretched smile, showcasing rows of sharp, pointed teeth. The purple fins on his neck and forearms shimmered with every flap and movement. 

He appeared to laugh as he teasingly swam around your frame, circling and eyeing you like prey. The delighted smile on his visage stretched wide, resembling the evil creatures drawn in the folklore books you read as a child. His iridescent, violet tail and fins tickled the skin of your neck, and your lungs began burning with the lack of oxygen, the subtle sounds of waves crashing joining in with the loud drumming of your pulse.

“My, my,” he chuckled, dark hues locked on your panic stricken face, “I didn’t even have to sing to get you to come to me, little human.”

The two of you were suspended in a neutral state of buoyancy, clouds of marine life occasionally passing by. Your blood ran so cold that it felt more like being electrocuted than anything else. You had to get yourself out immediately, before the lack of oxygen kills you or before the siren rips you apart like ribbons.

One second he was eyeing you curiously, and the next you struggled to escape his hold, teeth snapping and threatening to bite your neck open, your frames swaying with the waves’ thrusts, even from below the surface. Your mind had no time to keep up with your body’s involuntary actions, your fingers digging harshly into the gaps of his gills and clawing desperately in an attempt to escape. 

Your movements weren’t as clean and swift as they would’ve been on land, but your frenzied mind paid no thought. He winced at the onslaught of scratches, pulling away to clutch at his neck in pain, giving you the briefest amount of time to swim up, your arms securely wrapping around the ring and shouting up with a desperate cry. Waves rocked your frame, the water sloshing harshly around you, and hope slowly trickled in as you felt the line tug upwards to safety.

 As soon as your legs surfaced the water, the same hand breached past the waves, long nails digging into the skin of your calf, before getting caught in the buckles of your brown boot, slipping it off with ease as the siren fell back into the water. Beady eyes glowered at you as you were hoisted up the ship.

Arms were wrapped around your frame as soon as you landed in a wet, bloody heap on deck, Wooyoung’s concerned face invading your vision. His eyes flew from your leg to your bleeding, bitten hand, and finally your face. From the raindrops pattering his skin you couldn’t tell if he was crying or not. He held you so tightly against his frame, fingers coiling into your wet locks, his chest heaving heavily in panic. Your widened eyes could only stare straight ahead, arms weakly tangling around his form.

Four years later and you were left with lumpy, jagged scars on your left leg and hand. There was no action taken against the fishermen that you worked for, though. You didn’t have the money or means to do anything, so Wooyoung and you decided it was best to change the tasks you were meant to complete. Delivering fish from the ports to the markets instead of helping the fishermen at sea was a much better and safer option.

The two of you fell into the same boring routine. You heard mockeries under people’s breaths regarding the two of you- how nobody wanted to adopt you due to your troublesome behavior, and Wooyoung due to the fact that he was deaf. You wanted to beat the nonsense out of the people who spoke ill of you, but you knew in doing so it would prove their point. Over the years, you have calmed down, though. Only slightly.

Grumbling to yourself, you trudged up the narrow cobblestone path, Wooyoung by your side. The two of you carried nets of freshly caught fish, ready to be displayed at the fish market. The streets were mostly empty, the orange rays of the sun filtering out the darkness as it ever so slowly broke past the horizon, golden beams shining onto the numerous white and seaglass-blue buildings. You passed the formal gardens, your eyes glued to the plumes of vibrant colors showcased behind the copper gates, wondering what it would feel like to have a picnic with your friends there. San will love it, his love for flowers inherited from his mother.

‘I’m going to smell like fish all day,’ You signed to Wooyoung, your posture and facial expression giving away your feelings even beforehand.  

His biceps flexed as he adjusted the bags in his grip, unable to reply back as his hands were full. His sleeveless shirt displayed his toned, tanned arms, leather pants fitting quite nicely on his form. You knew he was teasing you as he took larger and quicker strides, leaving you behind. You waddled your way after him, your protests quite literally falling on deaf ears. 

You traded the fish for a sachet of silver coins, making sure to count the amount before your departure from the seafood market. On your way back to the docks, you stopped to grab a loaf of freshly baked bread and tea, offering the taller male walking with you. Elderly women can be spotted hunching down to tend to their rice fields, wide brimmed hats shielding them from the rising sun.

 Children began walking down the streets, dressed in the typical blue and white school uniform. You occasionally wished that Wooyoung and yourself grew up with those privileges- only worrying about upcoming tests and what meal you’ll devour after coming back from school. Despite the tiring labor, Wooyoung and yourself at least had each other’s company to enjoy, and you were grateful to have him by your side every second.

Overall, the waters were quite safe since that incident that occurred five years ago. The fishermen treated you both very well, always slapping at Wooyoung’s broadened shoulders and biceps playfully. They often teased you about being in a relationship, but quickly learned the sibling dynamic between the two of you. Wooyoung’s nose always scrunched in distaste at the memory.  

It was noon and the two of you finally finished your daily fish delivery trips. You decided to pay San a visit at his family’s library, his nose immediately scrunching up while he greeted you at the front desk. 

‘Would it kill you two to go shower before you visit?‘ he signed in annoyance, fingers then clamping around his mouth and nose.

You attempted to hug him, and he hastily backed away in his seat, a book smacking you in the arm in retaliation, a strangled sound emitting from the back of his throat, “Stop, (y/n)!” 

“But I missed you, Sannie,” you frowned, pulling Wooyoung forward by the elbow, ‘Wooyoung wants a hug too.’

‘You won’t die if I don’t hug you,’ San shook his head, propping the frames on his nose a bit higher, giving you two a pointed look.

‘Yes we will,’ Wooyoung protested, a pout finding itself onto his features, earning him a glare from San as you cackled,’Are you ready for the competition later?’

‘More than ever. Too bad the brat can’t attend,’ Wooyoung snorted at the response, hastily covering his mouth as you gave him a swift, sharp look. It was no surprise that Wooyoung used his hard earned silver coins to enlist in San’s swordsmanship school, much to the other’s delight. Tonight was the end of the season’s competition, but to your dismay, you had errands to complete before the prince’s coronation tomorrow.

San was peeved at the idea of you not attending, but Wooyoung clearly saw the irritation being directed at the fact that you couldn’t attend because of the prince and not due to the errands you were forced to complete. He rolled his eyes whilst gazing at your mouths moving rapidly in a display of ongoing bickering. The two of you were so oblivious to each other, Wooyoung found it gross. Endearing, but gross.

Later that night, Wooyoung returned home to the housing facility, his nose scrunching up in delight as he proudly displayed his second place trophy in the air. Throwing your arms around his neck and shaking his frame excitedly, you laughed as he stumbled back from the sudden attack. 

‘I’m so, so proud of you!’

A smile found itself resting on his features as he tugged you close to return the gesture. 

He was beyond grateful to have someone that felt like family.

Wooyoung rubbed the small amount of rose water in his hands and brushed his fingers through your hair, giving it a gentle tussle. He adjusted the clips holding your hair in place, before eyeing your reflection in the mirror, throwing a thumbs up and proceeding to pinch your cheeks. Swatting his hands away in protest, you turned to examine yourself at a different angle,’Do you think purple suits me?’

‘Of course. Every color suits you.’

‘But do you think I look good in purple? Should I wear the blue one instead?’

‘I’m pretty sure San will love it. Two of his favorite-’

You furiously signed that you did not even bring San’s name into the conversation, and Wooyoung snickered at your flustered reaction. You hated how well he read you- how easily he read every feeling you attempted to bury and conceal. 

And you hated the fact that you had no confidence to confess your feelings in the first place.

The night of Prince Hongjoong’s coronation was much like the night of his coming-of-age celebration, only now Wooyoung and you were older— and being older meant partying harder.

Wooyoung watched you stumble into a pole, snickering and tugging you towards himself to stabilize your tipsy form. San shook his head as he walked back towards you with three sticks of fried pastry, his lips parting to scold you, “You're lightweight! You shouldn’t have drank so much, (y/n).”

Wooyoung has spent a good amount of time with the both of you, and after years of friendship, he often picked up on reading your lips as you two argued. He rubbed your shoulders in silent understanding, knowing fully well you downed that liquor in hopes of gaining confidence to actually look San in the eye and not have to deal with flushed ears and bickering to conceal your feelings. San in traditional garments was your utter weakness.

It had the opposite effect, really. You complained about his voice being too loud, and how the lights were too bright around you— how the smells of the street food were too strong. Wooyoung offered you a bottle of water, forcing you to down it all in one go in order to clear your mind a bit. He gave San a knowing smile as he watched from the sidelines, adam’s apple bobbing nervously at the sight of streaks of water cascading down from the corners of your lips and onto your neck, your clavicles glistening underneath all of the oil lamps illuminating the streets. Once catching the lavender haired male’s smirking gaze, the other silently scrunched his face in embarrassment, swiftly turning away to eye the closest confectionery shop.

Underneath the star-filled sky, the townspeople chatted amongst each other, many of them drunk and attempting to form dance circles in the town square. Many musicians filled the streets, the sweet and joyous melodies dancing in between every corner and alley of Aurora. A few women danced with delicate and sensual sways of their hips to the beats of darbuka drums and oud notes, hungry eyes watching their every move. The scent of tobacco and alcohol filled the air. An hour later, you felt better, mind clearing slightly. 

The smell of fresh pastries and milk custards wafted through the air, as you shared a large piece of cinnamon cake between the other two boys. Wooyoung stood up, informing you that he needed to buy water and possibly use the restroom. 

It was only when you were left alone with San, you suddenly felt like a small and helpless bug without Wooyoung’s presence and emotional support. You can face San on normal days, but when he’s dressed like this, hair slicked back, and the back of his ears and wrists shining with sandalwood oil-based perfume, your confidence crumbled into a mere speck of dust.

“You look pretty,” he started, voice quiet as his kohl lined eyes fixate on the cake between the two of you, “Purple suits you, you know?”

You scrambled to find a coherent reply, mind too frazzled at the sudden bold comment from the man across from you,. You needed to be casual, natural- needed to say something that won’t scare him off, or make you sound too desperate.

“You look hot when you spar.”

His eyes widened in surprise at your confession, jaw dropping in disbelief, cinnamon frosting and cake crumbs coating his cupid’s bow, and you suddenly wished you drank more of that nasty rum earlier.

Half an hour passed as the two of you awkwardly exchanged hints and implications of your feelings, when suddenly your brows furrowed, your frame rising up from your seat at the wooden table, “Okay, now I know for a fact that he’s lost. It’s been too long-”

“But he knows his way through town, (y/n). Besides, this is his favorite bakery— no way he’ll get lost,” San reassured, finger flicking the strand of hair that fell into his gaze. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, hand running through your hair as you took a few steps away from the table, calling out back to him, “You stay here in case he comes back. I’ll go look for him, okay?”

After a nod of approval, you sauntered off among the sea of crowds searching for a mop of purple hair. You grew tired after half an hour of searching, even returning back to San in hopes that Wooyoung found his way back. When he saw dread fill your eyes at absence of the male, he stood up, cupping your your panic stricken face and telling you to calm down.

“You check the south, and I’ll check north, got it? We’ll meet at the same spot after half an hour,” he squeezed your shoulder and offered a small smile, “He’ll be okay. He’s Warrior Wooyoung after all. I trained him well.”

Fifteen minutes ticked by and you attempted to push down the heavy and negative thoughts invading your mind. This was not like back in the orphanage. Wooyoung was not the little, scared, helpless little boy. He was strong, brave, and—

You walked straight into a firm chest, hands reaching up to stabilize you as you stumbled back on your feet, head snapping up to apologize, “Ah, Pipsqueak. You’ve grown quite nicely since the last time I’ve seen you.”

Your eyes widened at the familiar voice, you hand immediately reaching up to swat at his arms, only for him to pull back defensively. Oh, how you hated the sight of his face and the sound of his voice. The gods must have loved Wooyoung for not granting him the sense of hearing, because you knew Minjae’s voice was disgusting enough to make anyone’s ear’s bleed. 

“Whoa- whoa! So hot-headed, still?” He laughed, eyes tracing every curve of your frame as he took a few steps back,”I see you’ve only psychically changed. But here,” he tapped his temple, broad shoulders on full display as he crossed arms,”You're still the same kid who was all bark and no bite.”

“I punched you, and you cried like a baby in front of the entire orphanage,” you stated matter-of-factly. 

The amusement in his eyes drifted away like the clouds blanketing the bright, full moon. You hated to admit it, but now that he was much, much taller than you, broader than you, and clearly stronger than you, it made you just a tiny bit anxious. You had no doubt that he’ll be able to manhandle you with just one hand, easily taking you down. A sneer met his features, “Ah, the day your idiot of a boyfriend was introduced to us, right? I heard you were also locked in the director’s closet as punishment.”

“Say that again, I dare you,” you spat back, mirroring his own sneer. He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back slightly against the wall beside him, as a snort of amusement escapes his  throat, “Why? Don’t like when I talk about him? Can’t believe Stupid grew up to beat me in second place,” he paused, as if contemplating his next words carefully, “It’ll be the last time, though. I can guarantee you that, love.”

Silence struck between the two of you.

You stared at his cocky smirk, his last words reverberating in your mind. His smile only broadened at the sight of horror and realization washing over your features. Suddenly, he found himself jerked down by the collar of his traditional garb, your hands itching to clobber that smile off his chiseled visage, “What did you do to him! Where is he!?”

He laughed at your attempt to intimidate him, gently prying your fists off of him as he patted the crown of your head in mock affection, “Don’t know. Maybe he’s partying, maybe he’s with San, or maybe..” he straightened his back, lips pursing whilst tapping his temple in thought, “..he’s being eaten alive by the sirens. Your guess, Sweetheart.”

You didn’t even realize you were already tripping on your feet to reach the docks in the southern part of town, Minjae’s amused laughter ringing behind you, your heart hammering in your chest as adrenaline surged through your veins. You pushed past drunkards, guards, adults, and hell- even children without a second glance or care in the world. There was no time to find San, the tears in your eyes flying into the air like tiny pearls as you flung yourself corner after corner between the blue and white buildings in a rush to reach the shore.

You will never forgive yourself if you didn’t find him alive. — Wooyoung was angered at his predicament. He should have known it was a trap, but he had a big heart, deciding to push his suspicions away when a lady asked him for help regarding her puppy at the beach. Well, at least that’s what he assumed when she pulled out a picture of a dog, pointing in the general direction of the harbor.

As soon as his suspicions surfaced, it was too late. She turned around so quickly, he had no time to react when she swung her heavy, straw bag onto his head, stumbling back and shielding his face. He was then ambushed by a group of men, who then proceeded to not only tie his wrists and ankles together, but also shove him in one of the smaller docked boats, working quickly to untie the thick ropes attaching it to the dock, allowing it to drift off yards away into the dark sea. 

Even during his delirious state, he didn’t fail to recognize one face in particular- the same face who glowered at him while he received the second place trophy yesterday night. Even with third place, Minjae still wasn’t satisfied, not when the kid he loved to pick on beat him at his own game, with much less training and practice. His ego was as easy to bruise as a banana.

With no paddle or oar, Wooyoung’s attempts to return back to shore with his bound hands were fruitless. As the boat drifted off even further, he flung his hands to grasp the edge of the jagged rocks, finger scraping against the barnacles and limpets that cracked underneath his steady grip. The blankets of green algae coating the rock causes his fingers to slip and slide, sharp points of the rocks and tiny mussels no help in aiding him whatsoever.

Panic and dread settled in his system, much to his displeasure. San taught him that a clear mind will do wonders when one in is in trouble, however looking at his situation now, it’s almost inevitable what will happen to him. He can barely make out the dock now, the glow of the town still visible from where he grasped onto the rocks for dear life, feet still bound in the boat. It was dark outside, people were busy with the coronation, and he couldn’t hear anything or anyone. 

The waves were strong and yet gentle at this distance, the boat rocking noisily against the large stones. The moon’s reflection in the water rippled, and a mop of blonde hair surfaced, startling Wooyoung suddenly. The being’s lips moved slowly, as if he were chanting calmly, eyes holding a mischievous fire within them. The man’s skin had an iridescent glow to it underneath the moonlight, specks of turquoise lining the sides of his neck and cheekbones. 

“Which human is stupid enough to take a swim at night during a full moon, hm?”

Pectoral fins on his neck flapped gently in the water, gill cavities visible from where Wooyoung stood. The being’s hair was reminiscent of the golden threads of the royal family garbs, and Wooyoung could only gape in sheer shock at the creature’s beauty. When he made no move to submerge himself in the water, the creature circled around the boat, brows furrowing in confusion. His lips moved rapidly now, shaping words Wooyoung had a difficult time deciphering, especially with such dim lighting.

From this distance, Wooyoung made out a large turquoise tail, which glimmered within the moonlight right below the surface of the water, and only then did he realize that the creature was the same one in the books he’s read about in San’s library as a child. However, this time, you weren’t there to fight the imaginary creatures on his behalf, and he was alone, stuck at sea along with said creature.The drawings did little to no justice in capturing the painful beauty of the beasts, though.

The siren’s lips parted, teeth so sharp like the daggers he trained with, anger now evident in his eyes as he swam much too close to Wooyoung’s comfort. “Why are you not abandoning your boat to come to me, you filthy human?” the creature sneered, jagged claws scraping at the edge of Wooyoung’s boat. 

Golden eyes widened as Wooyoung swatted the creature’s hands away in retaliation. The siren reeled back in surprise, shock enveloping his features as the human glowered down at him. Bounded hands or not, Wooyoung will not go down without a fight. If you were here, you would be proud, he thinks.

When the creature attempts to grasp the edge of the boat once more, tilting it down to capsize it, Wooyoung’s hands reach out to scrape long stripes onto the being’s arms, his scaly, slippery flesh cool to the touch. He made no attempt to smirk cockily at the shocked creature as it pulled back with a hiss. It still had the upper hand in this situation. Warily, the golden haired being swayed gently along with the waves, his eyes searching for an answer in the boy’s face. Turning hastily to eye the structure of the rock, Wooyoung contemplated trying to climb onto the high surface for safety despite his restraints. Maybe the morning sailors and fishermen will find him in the early hours of the morning.

“Ah, you’re quite boring,” he drawled in disgust, “I like them when they scream and cry.”

This is definitely a crazy one. Maybe Seonghwa will enjoy tearing him open instead.

Wooyoung startled at the noise that invaded his mind, frantically looking around for the source, only for his eyes to lock onto the back of the being’s head. Did he just hear? That was a voice, right? 

‘Are you talking about me?’

The creature was now far enough for the reflection of the moon to ripple between the two. 

‘Hey! Was that you speaking? How can I hear you?’

Wooyoung was certainly not expecting shock to wash over the being’s features, his lips parting in a silent gasp as he turned his head to gaze back at him over his scaly shoulder, golden orbs widening. Just who was this human?

‘How are you communicating with me telepathically? This is not possible,’ the creature made no move to swim closer, uncertainty in its eyes,’What kind of human are you, boy?’

Wooyoung didn’t know how to respond, the confusion in his eyes mirroring the creature’s,’I don’t know,’ his hands gripped the boulders roughly as a harsh wave rocked the boat. With desperate eyes, he pleaded to the creature,’Please help me reach back to shore.’

Wooyoung didn’t need to hear to know how amused the creature was at his words. Throwing his head back with laughter, golden strands glimmering with every movement,’A siren? Helping a human?’ he swam slowly to the purple haired male, golden orbs narrowing into a threatening glare as he spat his next words harshly,’I don’t help your kind. I find it much more amusing to rip you measly humans open by your throats, watching your life flash before your eyes as you choke on your blood, before you sink to the pits of the ocean where your pathetic wastes of bodies are gnawed on by sea creatures. You should’ve listened to the warnings in your bedtime stori-’

“Wooyoung!” 

The motion of the siren’s head snapping to the side bought Wooyoung’s attention up to that direction, eyes squinting to make out a figure struggling to make it past the onset of waves in a small coracle. Relief washed over him, his eyes widened in recognition, unable to wave his bound hands in fear of losing his grip of the rocks. 

“Oh, thank the heavens you’re—”

Knowing fully well he couldn’t hear you, you couldn’t help but shout in relief at the mere sight of his intact body. It was only when you noticed the head of blonde hair in the water that the oar nearly slipped out of your hands. In a desperate attempt to further the distance between Wooyoung and that damned siren, you were quick to whip your shoes in its direction, aiming for the creature’s head. 

“Get away from him!”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened at your actions, shaking his head frantically to get your attention,’Stop, you idiot!’ His face said it all, but you were too engrossed in yelling profanities at the creature, whose eyes flickered from the floating shoes and back to your heated face. When the siren’s lips curled back, sharp teeth glimmering in the moonlight to make his way to end your life, Wooyoung rushed to stop him, knowing fully well what will conclude if he didn’t,‘Stop! No! Don’t hurt, (y/n)! Please.’

‘One strange human after another. Give me one reason I shouldn’t snap this human roach’s neck this instant,’ the creature hissed underneath his breath, molten gold orbs furiously trained on your approaching figure. Wooyoung’s eyes frantically flickered back and forth from your outraged form and back to the crouching siren, whose face sunk in the water until he was eye level with the surface,’Well?’

‘(Y/n).. (y/n) is my lover?,’ Wooyoung threw in a white lie, wincing at the irrational thoughts he shared with the creature. Whether or not the creature knew he was lying, he hoped that was enough to deter him, even slightly. Golden eyes peered at him in faint curiosity, a scoff escaping the creature’s lips in bubbles, before he dipped himself fully underneath the water’s surface, swimming his way in your direction, ignoring the frantic thoughts of the purple haired male drilling in his mind.

You glared down at the creature underneath the water, whose amused eyes studied your seething form. You aimed the oar, plunging it down with a loud plop of the water. A laugh rang out behind you, and you found yourself suddenly tilting face first into the water. Your frantic swimming came to a halt when the creature circled around you beneath the surface, long turquoise tail curling around your frame in amusement. Beams of moonlight illuminated his iridescent face, which was mere inches away from your own, his lips stretching wide to reveal two rows of sharp, jagged teeth, golden strands dancing and framing his face beautifully. 

You refused to allow this fish to scare you– not like last time. It was that sudden impulse that prompted you to angrily tug at the fins on his neck, before you gripped his long, wavy locks back, fingers roughly digging into the gaps of his gills. 

If you had air, you would’ve laughed at the stupefied expression on his face, but before you made another move, his tail smacked you upside the head, taking you by surprise. He wriggled away from your grasp, swimming away and allowing the darkness of the ocean to engulf his figure. 

Breaking the surface of the ocean, you spotted a panic stricken Wooyoung, whose shoulders sagged in relief at the sight of your smiling face. You ignored the glare he sent you as you swam a few feet to retrieve the floating oar, before making your way over to his boat, struggling to climb in. You clung onto his dry form, hands cupping his face to examine it and his neck, looking for any sign of harm.

He struggled to sign words with his bound hands, his chin jutting in the general direction of the shore, silently asking you to start paddling. Golden hair and eyes broke the surface of the water yards behind the boat, watching you struggle to keep the boat steady and straight. ‘Visit me again, Human. You’ve intrigued me.’ Wooyoung’s head snapped back at the sound, but all he could make out was a ripple of the water. You found yourself hunched down, a jagged stone in hand as you attempted to slice through the hemp twine encasing Wooyoung’s limbs. The two of you walked to the nearby promenade, the low lighting of the lampposts around you not aiding your sight in the slightest. With the adrenaline now fading away, the reality of what just occurred finally began to sink in your frazzled mind. Your hands trembled as you sliced through, tears dropping in pearls onto the pavement. You were so, so close to losing the only person you called family. Was this the feeling of what having a family meant? The impending doom one feels when their loved one is in danger? You hated it. You loved Wooyoung, but you hated this foreign feeling. It was ugly and it tore you down from the inside out, disrupting your breathing pattern and train of thought. Off to the side, the gentle waters rocked the small dinghies and larger day boats nestled on the side of the promenade. The moon’s reflection was stunning against the calmer waters of this side of town. “Where have you been!?” San’s frantic cry snapped your attention from cutting the bonds around Wooyoung’s arms, and up to the confused, ebony haired male who hunched forward, clutching the wall to steady his breathing,”I checked the entire south shore! Minjae said Wooyoung-” “You best believe I’ll have him expelled from your school after the stunt he pulled,” you growled, finally tugging the last of the thick twine from the purple haired boy’s limbs, your hands still trembling with anger, before you hurled the stone against one of the smaller boats, the water rippling as it dropped down, “I’ll— I’ll kill him. I swear I’ll snap his neck in half- as soon as I get my hands on him I-.. I will squeeze his throat until he’s as blue as the ocean..” Wooyoung’s hands fisted around your lithe fingers, his arms pulling you into his chest tightly as you desperately gripped the back of his shirt, too afraid to let him go. San’s expression fell at the sight, his hands reaching to rub the both of your backs. ‘Are you okay?’ San pulled the other into a hug, hand cradling the other’s head tenderly. Wooyoung pulled away to nod, a silent storm forming in his brown hues, which you two failed to see past the anger and relief that washed upon reuniting with your friend. Later on, San happily visited you to inform you of Minjae’s expulsion from the swordsmanship program, the school stripping away all of the past medals he obtained. He was happy to have him gone and have you not behind bars for attempted murder. He refused to let you know where Minjae lives. — Peeling his eyes open, Wooyoung found himself submerged within the dark depths of the ocean. No marine life swam by, and strong beams of sunlight danced beneath the surface of the water. He kicked his legs and arms in an attempt to swim up to the surface. Strangely enough, he hadn’t felt the need for air. A few seconds before he breached the surface, a kind face hovered above the water, the person’s visage distorted with the moving water. A hand plunged down the water hastily, the pads of two fingers grazing his forehead ever so gently, before he found himself being dragged down to the ocean’s dark trenches by a strong force, his arm instinctively flinging up to try and reach the outstretched hand. He felt a scream slip past his lips as a clawed hand pierced through the flesh of his neck, dragging upwards towards his chin, the blood beginning to waft into the water around him. The manic laughter emitted from the creature practically curdled his blood, and his vision was suddenly overtaken by a set of teeth so sharp they resembled daggers. The creature’s jaws snapped so tightly around the junction of his nec— Wooyoung’s frame shot up suddenly. His chest heaved with rapid, heavy breaths, heart practically convulsing in his ribcage. Swallowing thickly, his wide, paranoid eyes scanned his environment, shoulders relaxing subtly as he took in the sight of the messy living space he shared with you. Beams of sunlight flickered through the curtains, birds chirping happily in the early hours of the morning. He heard your faint breathing from the bottom bunk, and he fluttered his eyes shut in relief. Throwing himself back, he gazed up at the chipped, stained ceiling, face and arms glistening with a sheen of sweat. The constant nightmares still will not hinder his decision to meet with the siren. He wanted answers. He needed answers. A month passed since the incident and Prince Hongjoong’s coronation, and you grew increasingly worried about Wooyoung. He appeared to be in his own world when hauling the nets of fish every morning, his eyes trained onto the ocean the entire time. The cries of seagulls could be heard as they dipped and soared overhead near the docked fishing trawlers. Your brows knitted in confusion as his gaze never left the vast expanse of the gentle waters, despite the most clouding the air. Just what was he searching for? You’ll study him a bit more before confronting him- that sounded like a good enough course of action Wooyoung also spent a ridiculous amount of time in the town’s library while he wasn’t training with San. While he loved reading with you and San when he was younger ( San and you took turns wither narrating or animatedly sign the words for him for a better experience in storytelling), he never really went out of his way to read on his own accord. He had shook his head when you asked if anything was bothering him. Even San couldn’t get him to reveal the cause of his sudden curiosity of the mythical sea creatures. You decided not to pry too much, instead focusing on completing more tasks to get an extra heap of silver coins before San’s birthday, silently promising yourself to buy him that golden cutlass sword he set his eyes on months ago. When Wooyoung wasn’t in either the library, or training, he sauntered off without informing anyone. You were worried at the sudden change of behavior, but after speaking with San, you came to realization that Wooyoung was an adult now, and he didn’t need supervision or protection like he once did as a child. You still couldn’t shake that gnawing feeling out of the pit of your stomach. ‘Is everything okay with you?’ you asked one day, book in your lap forgotten as you stared at him from your seat on the lower bunk bed. The smell of salt and sea lingered in your small space from the opened window in the back. He lifted his umber hues for the briefest second to watch you repeat the gestures before nodding with a half-hearted smile, turning back to his book on the small table in the corner of your one-room living quarters. Miffed at his lack of honesty, you crawled out of the space, book tossed aside as you roughly dragged the chair back to plop across from him, eyes searching his face for answers,’Where have you been going off to?’ Quirking a brow at your pushy and intrusive choice of words, he held himself back from rolling his eyes,’It’s nothing important. Don’t worry about it.’ He returned his gaze back to the book, lavender locks falling into his eyes. You swiftly snatched the book away from him, eyes scanning the page quickly before he practically jumps onto you, face contorted into disbelief and anger, his expression clearly asking you if you had lost your mind,’Why are you suddenly so interested in sirens? Why do you disappear for hours on end almost every single day?’ ‘I told you it’s nothing important. Go to sleep,’ anger was clearly evident on his features and his demeanor. He plopped down back into his seat, book concealing half of his face as his eyes flickered to you in frustration. ‘You’re trying to find that siren, aren’t you?’ He stilled, mind reeling at the accusation, before he snapped the heavy book shut with a loud slam, ignoring your existence completely as he made his way over to the ladder to reach his top bunk. You grabbed him by the back of the shirt, turning him around to point a finger in his face, relying on him to read your lips, the anger in your system seemingly unbearable, “Am I right!?” ‘Stop treating me like I’m your son. Goodnight, (y/n).’ He left no room for arguments, eyes void of any warmth at your nosy questions. You watched him crawl into his covers, his back facing you. Scoffing to yourself, you reached down to snuff the oil lamps, the sudden darkness of the room concealing the hurt expression that painted your features. Wooyoung didn’t bother exchanging words with you the next day during your fish deliveries. You glowered at his retreating figure as he just waved a goodbye. You thought it was best to ignore the brat, and instead focus on the errands left on your plate. The tasks you completed were mostly deliveries of goods, and cleaning the docks and beaches of the litter and waste the townspeople left behind. You grimaced as you picked up what appeared to be the remnants of a torn loincloth and a shattered bottle of rum, throwing it in the plastic bag you carried in your gloved hands. Turning swiftly back to the pile you created up the slope of the rocky area of the beach, a flash of purple froze you in your tracks. You blinked, but nothing was there. Furrowing your brows, you decided to investigate, just to make sure the sun hadn’t baked your brain and burned your eyes. Placing the parchment bag down to steady it against a sturdy rock, you padded your way towards the sea cave that the villagers always warned kids not to venture off into. The water reached your ankles as you hesitantly stepped into the quiet cave, beams of sunlight guiding you through the tunnel of rocks. You grimaced at the feeling of algae and barnacle on the wall, feet stepping cautiously onto the wet boulders. You turned a corner, eyes immediately catching sight of the opening on the top of the cave, which filtered strong beams of rays into the shallow, turquoise and blue waters of the cave. Not quite paying close attention to your footing, your ankle caught onto a chunk of seaweed, toes stubbing against a jagged stone. You yelped loudly, your voice echoing in the cave as you crashed into the waist deep water. Before the thought of getting up even crossed your mind, your eyes widened at the sight of the familiar siren, who bristled in front of you, the long, protruding rays on his frame flaring out in anger, claws and jagged teeth ready to rip you apart if it wasn’t the blur of purple that hovered above you with arms spread out in defense. A whistling hiss emitted from the creature as he peered at you from over Wooyoung’s shoulders, face contorted into a glare, “Wooyoung!? You—...” the pain from your fall was now buried underneath the rising anger that bubbled from within you. Pointing an accusing finger at the creature, you glared back, “You! I knew it! You seduced him! You’re trying to kill him, aren’t you?!” “How disgusting that you think I’ll reduce myself to seduce a human being of all things. I would much rather kiss a squid. I want nothing to do with you filthy pests.” You smacked Wooyoung’s calf in confusion, angrily signing at the sight of his embarrassed expression,’What are you doing here with a siren!?’ ‘Why were you following me?’ ‘I wasn’t! I was running an errand when I saw you come here! He seduced you. He sang for you, and you-‘ your hands just could not keep up with your racing thoughts. You opted to spit out your words, mostly for the siren to hear,“I’ll slice him like a trout and sell his flesh in the market- now move, Wooyoung,” you proceeded to step around the taller male, your bare hands clawing at the air as he tugged you back by the waist, the siren staring at you with a dull expression. “Crazy human,” he simpered at the sight of your frustration, “Your boyfriend can’t even hear me sing.” You kicked at the water at the smug expression of the siren, Wooyoung’s jaw dropping in disbelief, @He’s not my boyfriend, you putrid fish! If I find out you’ve hurt him in any way-” With a wave of his tail, you found yourself drenched from the head down. — Crossing your arms in anger, you leaned against the mossy wall of the cave, glaring holes into the siren’s head, as Wooyoung finished explaining everything, demeanor nervous and all as you rung your shirt for the third time to rid your attire of the seawater. Seagulls cawed around the roof of the cave, and small creatures climbed in between the cracks and crevices of the rocks surrounding you. Yeosang was leaning forward, arms crossed against a rock, chin tucked up onto his arms as his tail swished languidly in the water behind him. “Is it true that Wooyoung can speak to you telepathically?” you peered over the boy’s shoulder, quirking a brow at the bored siren, who was busy toying with a cluster of barnacle. He nodded, rolling his eyes as you asked for an explanation as to why that was possible. “Don’t know. Your lovely human friend here has been reading about it all month, and I can’t come up with anything rational either,” he threw himself back, eyes squinting as beams of sunlight flashed onto his face, “He’s been meeting me here to ask questions and learn about our kind. Curious little guy, but naive. It’s great that the runt has you following after him like a little sandpiper, or else I probably would have killed him that night.” He burst into a fit of mock laughter at your panicked expression, leaning back against a rock and crossing his arms over his chest, green, transparent gills dripping with seawater, “Kidding. I’ve never met a deaf human and a ..” he eyed you up and down, tongue gliding against his sharp teeth as he thought of a way to describe you, “Earth roach.” Wooyoung shot you a look as you attempted to grab a seashell to thwart it at the siren, “Why should we even trust you? You’ve killed too many humans. One of you attacked me too!” “You don’t have to trust me,” his tail fins swayed gently in the water as he threw a smirk your way,”Ah, so you’re that human that managed to escape from Seonghwa years ago? You left some ugly damage to his gills that day, y’know. Couldn’t sing for a week. He’ll be happy to know I found you.” “It’s against the law to interact with sirens anyway. I don’t want to see that bastard.” “Well, I guess I should call the King on you two for breaking the law? Or better yet, maybe I’ll tear you apart to see how you look from the inside. Red is my favorite color for a reason.” You rolled your eyes, tugging at Wooyoung’s elbow to get his attention. You urged him to go home with you and leave the siren be, but he wouldn’t budge, sitting down onto one of the dry rocks, hands grabbing at the forgotten book. You argued back and forth, exchanging glares of protest as he told you he’ll be fine. “He is a siren,” you cried, hands grasping his shoulders, face leaning in, “He will kill you!” ‘He would have killed me weeks ago, if he really wanted to,’ he defended, mirroring your own fierce glare. Twenty minutes ticked by, and you eventually gave up attempting to persuade him. Wooyoung was as stubborn as a rock. You decided it was best to just trust him, even if you did think he was insane for interacting with a siren like it was a friend. Like it was human. Like it had compassion and empathy. It was nothing but a blood-thirsty killer. His explanation just had no merit to it whatsoever. A month passed and Wooyoung wasn’t killed, so you assumed all was well. The last thing you expected was to see Wooyoung walk back into your complex, one late night, with disheveled hair and purple marking on his neck. The straw broom in your hands fell onto the floor with a loud clang, as you attempted to near him in suspicion. His hands hastily shot up to conceal the love-bites with the collar of his blouse, but your hands were quick to push them away. You glared into his eyes disapprovingly as his face flushed in embarrassment, “Please tell me it wasn’t him.” Anger suddenly washed his features as he read your lips. He pried your arms off, angrily shoving past you to reach the closet for a change of clothes. You rushed to stand in front him, arms crossed and features cold,’You can’t expect me to be okay with this. He’s a siren. You can’t love a siren. Don’t go see him again, please. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.’ ‘I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself,’ his gaze was cold. ‘I didn’t say you were, but I’m scared. What if he hurts you?’ ‘It’s because I’m deaf, isn’t it? You think the world is out to get me, and I’m not capable of handling anything by myself?’ You vehemently disagreed with his thoughts, but he left no more room for argument as he slammed the door to the bathroom shut, rattling the figurines on top of the wooden dresser you shared. The sound of the shower head was audible through the door as you furiously swept the remaining dust bunnies. This went on for about two more months The past two months have also been increasingly difficult for San and his mother at home. Your other friend grew somewhat distant and cold when you came to visit him at home. You didn’t need any explanation about his behavior. Mrs. Choi’s attempts at concealing the blooming blue and purple marks proved fruitless as she reached up to dust bookshelves, her shirt giving way to showcase the marks marring her skin. Her eyes seemed to always shine with a thin layer of tears, and her smile was forced half of the time.

San was aggressive whilst practicing and honing his swordsmanship skills, muscles burning in protest as he slashed at slabs of wood repeatedly, his cheeks rosy underneath the evening sun. Not even your arms tugging him away from the practice field sufficed in calming his raging nerves down, shouting at you to leave if you didn’t want to watch. There was a need to continuously grow stronger- you clearly saw it past his anger and frustration. He wanted, needed, to feel as if he had power over something. With a heavy heart, you nodded in acceptance, sitting off to the side to watch him burn himself out physically. He also partook in extra duels, so many that a limit had to be placed on how much he could take part in. During times like these, you realized being raised as an orphan was nothing compared to living with an abusive father. You only wished to stop feeling so helpless, wishing you could help carry the pain and exhaustion weighing San’s shoulders down.

One day, while the three of you sat together in a nearby cafe, he picked at his baked tart, eyes then darting from you quietly sipping your tea to Wooyoung who stuffed his mouth with a freshly baked croissant. The purple haired male wore a scarf around his neck, the sight of it only angering you slightly. San’s lips parted in hesitation, words dying in his throat as you glanced up at him curiously,”You okay?”

Wooyoung peered over at the ebony haired male, cheeks round with warm pastry and jam, his eyes blinking in confusion,‘Sorry, did you want a piece of my croissant?’

San snorted at the guilt ridden expression on the lavender haired male’s visage, an amused smile raking his features as he shook his head,’No. That’s fine,’ his hands hovered above his drink, lips pressed into a thin line, before he continued,’I realized I never thanked you two.’

‘Thanked us for what?’ 

‘I didn’t grow up having anyone to look up to. I only grew up knowing what I don’t want to be like. None of the children at school understood me, either. They often mocked my mother and I when they visited the library, sometimes smudging ink on their hands to resemble the bruises on her arms. They were evil, and for the longest time, I thought the entire world was as cold as they were. You two changed my entire perceptive of people, though. So, thank you. It’s years too late, but-,’ San’s bashful expression suddenly fell at the sight of the two pairs of glassy eyes,”Ah! What? Don’t even think about crying!”

—

Weeks later, and San had returned to somewhat of a healthier, emotional state of mind, spending most of his time either at the library with his mother, or training and dueling. Late nights walking on the beach also aided his frazzled nerves.

Wooyoung spent most of him time with Yeosang at the cave, and San had questioned you regarding his behavior one day when he paid you a visit, hands heavy with the dinner he helped his mother prepare. You gaped at him, chopsticks in mid-air as you gave him an incredulous look, “What? No, I didn’t reject him- I don’t even like him like that— oh heavens this is Wooyoung we’re talking about, San. He’s like a brother to me. You know that. He’s just..” What sounded reasonable enough for Wooyoung to spend more time away from the only people he considered family? What were you going to say? Picking up on San’s lingering suspicion, you placed your utensil down, sighing and ringing your fingers together as you gazed at him in contemplation, “I..” the words you wanted stuck in your throat. Swallowing thickly, you suddenly found interest in the noodles and fish on your plate, “You know I have feelings for you, and only you. No one will ever change that, San.”

You were aware of how heated his face had become at the confession, brown hues lifting to study your features warily, “Do you really mean that? Am I good enough for you?”

You push past the need to shoot him an incredulous look, instead opting to reach over to clasp his hands in your own, fingers coiling with his,”Of course, I mean it. You’ll always own my heart. It’s always been that way.”

“But I need you to tell me that I’m good enough for you,” he pushed his plate away, appetite gone as he stared stoically at you, his voice so small it sounded like a whisper,“Do you think I’m capable of protecting you? Or.. or even loving you? Am I?”

“You are. You’re more than enough for me,” you stood up to hug his head against your chest, his eyes locked on yours, stunned and almost teary-eyed, “You’ll always be enough.”

One moment you were busy eating dinner, and the next the two of you found yourselves entangled in each other’s embrace, exchanging feverish kisses and desperate, long-awaited touches that once only existed existed in your dreams, too insecure to turn them into reality. You kissed every mark and scar left from the hands of his father, murmuring gentle praises against his marred skin, his muscles rippling underneath your touch. His lips wouldn’t leave your form, biting and sucking at every expanse of flesh he could reach as he rocked into you, hands gripping your hips and waist almost possessively. 

He fell against your bare form in a heap, your conjoined bodies sticky and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. His face was buried into the crook of your neck as he suckled onto a patch of your bruised skin, hot breath fanning against your already heated flesh as he whispered sweet, muffled promises against the shell of your ear. You felt his release slowly dribble from where your bodies met, your frame squirming at the sensation as you unwrapped your legs from around his waist, spreading them apart to allow him room to settle against your panting figure.

“I can’t believe you actually thought I was into Wooyoung,” you groaned in embarrassment as he littered your chest with tiny love marks, teeth scraping against your skin in the most pleasurable way. He chuckled against your supple flesh, and it’s then you realized you haven’t seen a smile reach his eyes quite like this in all the years you’ve known him.

The next morning, he expected to find a flustered Wooyoung at the sight of San sleeping in his home, but his sheets were still pristine and untouched, just as they were the night before. He questioned you about Wooyoung while you two shared a light breakfast together, beams of sunlight doing wonders to his chiseled visage and bed hair.

“Okay, I guess I’ve been keeping this away from you for too long, and Wooyoung didn’t want me mentioning it—” An inferno set ablaze in San’s eyes, and you internally scolded yourself for the lack of appropriate words. You hastily whispered before he had the opportunity to open his mouth, “He made friends with a siren, and-”

“With a siren!?” His spoon clattered in the bowl of porridge, splashing the table and the mug of tea. Your eyes widened and you slapped a finger to your lips, telling him to lower his voice, “What do you mean be quiet!? He’s with a siren, and you’re okay with that!?”

His hard gaze was trained on you, and an involuntary shiver ran down your spine. You parted your lips to explain, when suddenly, he pushed back his seat, chair scraping the floor as he made his way over to Wooyoung’s closet, throwing on the leather baldric he found and sheathing Wooyoung’s sword, before tugging his boots only to spare you a brief glance. You trailed after San, hands tugging desperately at his arms, but he refused to turn around and listen, “Listen, I’ve tried telling him, but he wouldn’t have it! Trust me, this is going to do more harm than good- He can hear the siren! They communicate telepathically and- and.. there’s no explanation to it but please- I’ve tried persuading him, but he’s too stubborn for his own good.”

“You..,” San paused in his tracks, turning around to give you a hard stare, eyes clouded with conflict. His lips parted, before they pressed into a thin line, shoulders tense with anger, “If you think I’m going to sit back and hope one of my best friends won’t die in the hands of a monster, then you must’ve lost your mind.”

The words stung, but you knew that was his irrational side taking over. A part of you knew you couldn’t blame him for rash behavior he’s grown from being around someone as horrid as his father, “You’re going to show me where he is, before I take this to the King and have that beast slaughtered.”

You were in for a lot of shit, and you didn’t know who to be afraid of most. San, for keeping this information away from him? Wooyoung, who made you promise you wouldn’t speak of this? Yeosang, who wasn’t that quite fond of you? Or King Hongjoong, who followed in the footsteps of his father, abiding by all the laws the older has set for the people.

When San stumbled into the cave, gently prying you off, his eyes burning with rage as he searched for a familiar head of purple, “Wooyoung!”

Flashes of confusion, betrayal, and anger sparked within Wooyoung’s eyes as he noticed the two of you, his eyes sending you a silent question as you noticed the glimmer of Yeosang’s tail underneath the dark waters.

‘You have gone crazy, haven’t you?’

Wooyoung chose to ignore him, pushing past his shoulder with the books he borrowed from the library tucked underneath his arm. If he recognized the baldric fastened on San’s torso, he made no implication of it. A furious hand clamped onto his shoulder, swiveling him back to face the the seething swordsman. San threateningly leaned into Wooyoung’s face, eyes raging with an inferno of anger and hostility. The purple haired male hesitantly bought a hand up to tug at the collar of his tunic, but San’s eyes already took note of the purple marks on the column of the boy’s flesh, “Are you fucking kidding me? You didn’t tell me he was intimate with it too!?”

“San,” you called out in annoyance, “Stop. He’s safe, you see? I told you Yeosang means no ha—”

A sudden flash of silver made you reel back in shock, your eyes widening at the sight of San brandishing his sharpened sword, the tip barely grazing the siren’s nose as the two froze to stare each other down. Wooyoung dropped the book he carried in surprise arms flying out to tug San’s weapon back, his own orbs furiously staring his friend down.

“Yeosang, leave!” You shouted amongst the commotion of your two friends, stepping around them to lightly push at Yeosang’s shoulders deeper into the water, “You’ll get killed! Leave!”

“Don’t underestimate me, little human. You’re going to regret the day you were born.”

Your eyes widened at the sight of his parted lips, swiftly rushing back to the other two, but you couldn’t call San in time to warn him, “Cover your-”

The sword clattered against the small boulders beneath San’s feet, eyes unfocused as the melodic sound of the siren’s call echoed within the walls of the cave, filling his ears. Wooyoung stared at his best friend’s face in shock, eyes flickering down to the sword, before he gazed at Yeosang in realization. He hesitantly watched San turn around in Yeosang’s direction, before he quickly wrapped a hand around the ebony haired male’s waist, tugging him back harshly,’Yeosang! Stop! I won’t let you kill him!’

Yeosang paid no mind to his friend’s protests, amused eyes flickering from both San and yourself, who struggled on maintaining your ears clamped with your hands. He raised his voice, lips quirking as your hands fell limp against your sides, eyes locked on the vast space in front of you. His hands itched at the thought of ripping the two of you apart from the inside out.

‘Yeosang! Stop!’

Yeosang’s voice was clearer than bells, and so devastatingly, hauntingly beautiful in your ears, and you wanted nothing more than to listen to it for years to come. Wooyoung’s panic stricken eyes flew over to your form as you trudged through the waist deep water, eyes unfocused and lips parted. He struggled to maintain a firm grip on San’s figure, who continuously clawed at the arms securing him in place.

Throwing San back against the mossy wall of the cave, Wooyoung madly dashed to tackle Yeosang down into the water, immediately ceasing his singing. The siren hissed in retaliation, nails dragging down the flesh of the hands clamped onto his mouth. He furiously swung his tail against Wooyoung’s ankles, pulling him down into the water. Snapping out of your trance, you were quick on your feet to help San up, hastily gripping the heavy sword away from his grasp. When he demanded you to hand it to him, Wooyoung shoved the both of you in the direction of cave’s entrance, furiously signing to leave immediately.

‘I’ll be fine! Just leave!’

A clawed hand reached out to slash at San, and out of instinct, you shoved yourself in between him and the siren, claws latching onto your ankle. Your immediate response was to pull away, flesh tearing underneath the sharp nails, a hiss leaving your lips as the salt in the ocean doing nothing to ease the pain of your opened wounds.

Wooyoung wrestled the siren down, hands clamped around his mouth, while he shot you two a look over his shoulder, eyes wild and void of any patience. San scoffed, hand wrapping around your waist to hoist you up on your good leg, eyes narrowed furiously,”You should have never stopped me from killing it–” “Shut up, San. If you had listened to me, we wouldn’t have been in—”

You emitted a groan of pain as your wounded leg brushed against the protruding edge of a rocky sides of the cave, hissing underneath your breath as you gripped San’s forearm to ease your mind off the burning sensation. Finally stumbling down onto the pebbled floor of the shore, you paused as San pulled away from you, “You go get help, and I’ll go back and-”

“You are not going back there! He will kill you, San. Get that through your thick head.”

“He nearly killed you, (y/n)! We left Wooyoung with that monster!”

“He’ll be okay, I promise. Wooyoung will be fine,” you groaned at the sight of red running down your ankle and soaking the sand underneath your foot,”Please, just fucking listen to me for once!” He stilled at your raised voice, and your eyes widened suddenly at the change of his demeanor. You quickly grasped his elbows, attempting to look him in the eye, “Oh, San- no. No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling- I forgot-”

“We should get your leg checked out,” he quipped firmly, avoiding your gaze as he proceeded to push you in the general direction of town, his shoulders and jaw tense with unresolved tension and anger.

— It was midnight, and Wooyoung still hadn’t returned home. Your one room living space felt too vacant without him sleeping on the top bunk bed you shared. Your ankle throbbed beneath the thick bandages, the smell of herbal ointment prominent even underneath the heavy layers of cloth.

You tossed and turned in your sheets for what felt like hours. The exhaustion and worry that clouded your mind prevented you from falling asleep. You quickly sat up, reached to light your oil lamp, before making your way out of your home to wander restlessly in the desolate streets, hoping to find the purple haired male.

You paused once you stepped around the corner of San’s neighborhood. Broken and discarded glass decorated the floor near his feet where he sat against the entryway of his home. The door hung by its hinges, splintered and shattered in some areas. You nearly dropped your lamp as you rushed towards the disheveled male, whose half-buttoned up, bloodied shirt, revealed glimpses of jagged scars left from his duels. Your eyes studied his visage, brows knitting in concern at the familiar, ghostly frown. His eyes spared you the briefest of looks before he dropped his gaze down to his bloody hands. Dried tear streaks and specks of red decorated his ghostly visage. The faint barking of a dog was heard streets away.

“It’s not mine. None of it is mine,” he mumbled, noticing your stunned gaze at the sight of red.

“They fought again?” you asked, already knowing the answer. He nodded silently, arms limp at his sides, “.. and she ran away again?” Another nod, and suddenly he found himself engulfed in your hold, tears streaming down his face as he held you close, face buried against the crown of your head. His resolve shatter quicker than any glass.

“I- .. I was angry, (y/n). I fought with him,” His voice was small and wavering, jumbled thoughts spilling rapidly from his lips,”the medics took him. He called me a bloodthirsty killer– but I’m..was it was defense? That’s not considered killing, right?” His breathing quickened, chest heaving as he struggled to steady his air flow, voice rising an octave as panic laced his tone,” “I’m not a killer, am I (y/n)? I am nothing like him,” his fingers tugged at his untamed hair in frustration, pupils quivering rapidly as he attempted to calm his racing and frantic heart, “I will never be anything like him. I need you to tell me that. Tell me I’m nothing like him!”

You pulled him inside and onto the couch, stepping over the fallen furniture, splintered wood, broken flower vases, and torn, embroidered, floral tapestries that littered the floor. Your eyes caught sight of a fallen, bloodied sword you recognized from San’s practices. Cold dinner filled plates lay broken near the flipped table. You held onto your broken friend throughout the night, consoling him repeatedly and wiping away his tears. You pressed numerous kisses onto his face, your hand running through his locks as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, years of agony apparent in his loud, torturous cries muffled against your skin. The sounds made your skin crawl in the most unpleasant way. You paused only when you noted the change in pattern of his breathing, indicating his deep slumber. Your eyes glanced at the full moon out the window, only praying that both Wooyoung and Mrs. Choi were alright.

—

Wooyoung was curled onto one of the higher rocks of the cave, fast asleep. He refused to return back home, not yet ready or willing to face his friends. Droplets of seawater pelting his face startled him awake, and he sat up in confusion at the sudden sensation. This definitely do not look like the ceiling of his home. His eyes snap down to search for Yeosang, the memories from hours ago vividly etching themselves back into his mind.

His eyes locked on someone else’s- a woman’s- and his eyes could only stare back in shock at the sight of San’s mother of all people in the cave, struggling to pry a raging Yeosang off of her.

‘Yeosang! Stop! Don’t kill her! I know her-’

‘You say that about every rat of a human, don't you?’

Only when Yeosang turned to snap the intruder’s neck in half, he paused at the gleam of her necklace. His gills contracted as he gazed at the intricately carved pendant resting on the older woman’s clavicles, “Where did you get that, filthy human?” he hissed, fins and rays flaring out ferociously, his long and sharp teeth snapping at the rage in his tone,”That necklace is for my people. My clan.”

“A friend gave it to me,” the lady explained, hand protectively clutching the pendant and out of Yeosang’s sight. He glowered menacingly at her, eyes still holding numerous silent questions. His eyes glanced down at her blue and purple marred neck and décolletage, “You.. you resemble him so much. My friend. This used to be our hang out spot years ago. His name was Yeohan. Did you know him?”

Yeosang jerked back suddenly, and from Wooyoung’s spot and the darkness engulfing the cave, he could hardly make out the movements of their lips. He scrambled to climb down the rocks, making his way over, legs frantically splashing in the water.

‘Yeosang? What’s wrong?’

“How do you know my father!? He died-”

“Twenty years ago,” Mrs. Choi finished for him, his eyes growing wide with shock at the woman’s affirmation,”The king killed him for the coming-of-age ritual. He wears his coat to this day. The moment I saw you, I knew you had to have been his offspring. The resemblance is uncanny.”

“You think I don’t know the evil things you’ve done to my people?” The siren spat, “I don’t need you telling me what crimes your kind has committed-”

“I will get it back for you. His coat. I’ll return it to you here by dawn.” Silence enveloped the two as the sea creature stared with a gaping mouth at the human.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What purpose would that serve you? Certainly, not out of kindness?”

She only offered him a sad smile. — You adjusted your trousers one last time, before leaning down to brush the hair out of San’s face. He stirred awake from your touch, eyes tired and puffy, “Is it morning?”

You glanced at the dark window, shrugging slightly before turning back to him, “Sort of. I need to deliver the fish to the merchants. I think.. I think you should stay here until I’m back. We can go check on your mom together? Do you want the keys to my place? Go rest there while I’m away.”

He nodded with a soft sigh, hand cupping the one you placed onto his palm,”I’ll stay here to clean up. Don’t take too long, please.”

“I won’t. Just please rest for me, okay? Maybe Wooyoung will come back to visit you here.”

You pressed a firm kiss against his lips, one he gladly reciprocated even in his sleepy state, “Love you.”

You were the first to discover Mrs. Choi’s body. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared you for the sight of a corpse, limp and pale and stuck between a cluster of jagged rocks underneath a cliff. The net of fish you hauled onto your back dropped with a loud thud onto the deck of the docked fishing ship, the sailors and other fisherman yelling at you in shock. It was only when you pointed out the body swaying against the rocks with every wave that they abandoned their work to call a nearby officer. 

Dread, heavy and ugly, filled you to the core, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears drowning out the shouting in the background. Panic worked its way out of every pore on your body, your eyes locked on the floating, dark haired woman,  olive green dress swaying gently in the calm waters of the early morning.

It couldn’t be her.

She wasn’t the only woman in town with such a dress. A glimmer of hope twinkled somewhere inside of you.

Not her. Anyone but her. Upon closer inspection as the officers hauled up the body, you nearly collapsed on sight. A shudder claimed your body in realization, your blood running cold at the sight of her frozen, gaping, her lips a dark hue of blue, forehead marred and slightly dented from where she most likely impacted the rocks. You could only stare silently as the medics hauled the body up on a stretcher, placing it in the back of a large wagon, the sound of hooves hitting the rocky pavement indicating its departure.

Just how on earth are you planning on letting San know?

—

Hours later, after arguing continuously with the medics, protesting how you needed to see the body, they ultimately refused, even calling out to guards to lock you out of the medical wing of the building. The town of Aurora was coiled in chaos at the announcement of the corpse found near the docks. The councilmen furiously argued amongst each other as the crowd grew bigger in the town’s square, right beneath the large clock tower. Curious people joined along in confusion at the sudden, early commotion, some propping their windows open to tend to their clothe lines and watch with bewildered eyes.

You stood amongst the crowd, fists clenching repeatedly whilst maintaining your flaring emotions. You pondered whether or not you should stick around or go and inform San, when one of the royal family’s servants ordered the towns councilmen to the town hall for an immediate meeting with the current and former king. You turned to race towards the aforementioned building, only for a hand to grip you in place. Turning, your heart leaped in your throat at the solemn looking San. He made no move forward, and all you could do was silently gape, unsure of how you were going to break the news to him, “Couldn’t sleep. I know. The neighbors told me when I went back to check the library,” he calmly explained over the hordes of bodies shoving and pushing past the two of you. Amongst the rush of civilians, you embraced him with trembling arms, your brows knitting in anger as you buried your face into his brown tunic.

You grasped his hand in hopes of comforting him while the two of you waited amongst the crowd in the town hall for the appearance of the King and his father. He held you close, chin resting against the crown of your head. You can tell he was in shock, his grief yet to be surfaced as he held you silently. His eyes were heavy with years of turmoil and anguish, all underneath the hands of one, grimy man. Knowing him, deep down, he most likely will never find it in him to forgive himself for not chasing after his broken mother last night. It will haunt him for years to come.

King Hongjoong appeared, seated in the middle of the large bench, his father to his right. Other noblemen also sat beside the two rulers. A medical examiner spoke rapidly in hushed whispers to the white haired male, whilst pointing to several parchments of paper. The King’s brows knitted the more the examiner spoke, and he nodded solemnly, a hand reaching up to dismiss the two medical staff. A gloved hand pinched the bridge of his nose, his charcoal hues flickering to the side to glance at his father, whose stoic expression did not twitch in the slightest at the barren news. 

The Commander of the Royal Guards barked at the restless crowd of people gathered into the large room to have respect for the King, and the silence that followed suit was deafening. King Hongjoong cleared his throat, his hair pristine as usual, although there seemed to be a weight of burden and stress taking a toll on his young features. His eyes were lifeless and dark, a stark contrast to when he was much younger. 

“It’s come to our attention that the body of Mrs. Choi has been found near the harbor. Upon investigation, medical examiners have concluded that cause of death was suicide,” Hongjoong spoke clearly, voice booming in the walls of the building.

You felt San’s grip on your hand tighten, his brows furrowed as he attempted to contain his composure. You saw guilt flash within his orbs, so raw and visible it made you look away, at anything besides his face. It didn’t sound right hearing the words come out from the king’s lips. You knew Mrs. Choi as well as you knew San. There’s no way she would have willingly dove to her death. “Isn’t Mr. Choi also in the hospital for multiple stab wounds?” A voice piped from the crowd. Hongjoong frowned at the sudden interruption, his hands reaching up to adjust his cloak, when another voice spoke up.

“Where is their son? I heard from neighbors that he was the one who stabbed his father,” a middle aged man mused loudly to the crowd.

“Is that why Mrs. Choi killed herself?” a lady joined in now,”Or was her son behind her fall too?”

“What if a siren killed her?”

“Nonsense, we haven’t seen one in the past four years.”

“Then who do you think has been cutting all of our fishing nets and destroying our sails?,” a familiar voice rang out through the hall. The tall male stepped closer to the Commander, before turning to the crowd, and you watched with horror in your eyes at the next few words to slip out of the Minjae’s mouth, “I’ve been telling my dad about the purple-haired boy who’s been meeting with sirens in the cave east of town. I saw the siren with my own eyes. I told you Wooyoung was up to no good. He’s probably selling all of our people’s information to those beasts.”

Hongjoong’s lips parted to speak, anger clearly painting his features, before his father stood up suddenly, gaze hard and unwavering at the Commander. It was then you noticed the lack of cloak on his frame,”Interacting with those beasts is a criminal offense punishable by death. Find me that boy. I want him publicly executed in the town’s square. As for the librarian’s son, find him as well. Lock him in the chambers until I decide what to do with him.”

Hongjoong gaped to the side at his father in disbelief, brows knitting in confusion, his kohl rimmed eyes wide. Mingi, who stood behind the white haired King glanced at the male, shoulders tense at growing chaos infiltrating the room, “Let me make the decisions, Father. I am King, after all.”

San reached down to grip onto your hand, and when his hand curled into nothing but air, his eyes snapped down to find your figure gone. 

“You old bastard!” A sickening crunch, a wave of gasps of disbelief, and your shouting sent the townspeople into a mad frenzy.

—

Wooyoung watched the small fish swim by his feet, nibbling at his toes. He smiled tenderly, feet swishing and kicking at the animals playfully. Off to the side, Yeosang held onto his father’s cloak, so tightly and desperately as if it would disappear,’I told you that lady was nice.’

Yeosang reached up to rub at his wet eyes furiously, golden orbs flickering up to meet the umber colored ones of the male,’I take back my criticism. Maybe there are still some good humans out there. Repeat my words in front of Seonghwa, and I will personally claw out your eyeballs.’

‘If you do, how will I get to see your beautiful face?’ Wooyoung simpered, cheeks flushing slightly at the other’s thoughts. He nodded shyly, fingers reaching to grasp the siren’s hand, thumb caressing the iridescent skin,’Just like how there are sirens with good hearts as well,’ the intimate moment was soon interrupted by a frantic sound of splashing, and Yeosang’s face fell immediately upon the sight of a panic stricken San. Immediately reading the emotions haunting San’s features, Wooyoung stood up, face contorting in confusion as San scrambled to explain the gravity of the situation they were in, both verbally to Yeosang and with hand signs for Wooyoung.

‘They’re going to execute (y/n). Death by drowning.’

Wooyoung swore his heart skipped a beat or two, his eyes wide and hands limp by his sides. Yeosang quietly watched from behind him.

‘(Y/n) attacked the King’s father. They’re planning on executing you too for meeting with Yeosang. And they think I was the one who killed my mother, and they’re hunting for me, too.’

Wooyoung reeled back, the bombardment of shocking news too much for him to handle all at once, but San continued, occasionally fumbling with his hands from the sheer amount of stress surging through his system,’Wooyoung, we need to leave. Now. I’m going to bail (y/n) out, and you’ll wait for us at the west part of town. There’s a boat there. We have no time to waste,” he hastily reached forward to pull his friend up, tugging him forcibly over clusters of ocean rocks.

“In exchange, will you promise me to protect my son?”

It took Yeosang a minute or two to process the woman’s words, before he finally nodded in response, a frown settling on his features, “Only if you keep your end of the promise.” “No. You will join him on the boat and escape. Death by enforced drowning you said?”

—

You glared icily through the dark bars separating your form from the snow haired king. He ushered the guard to give the two of you privacy, and a minute of footsteps later, and the two of you were left alone in the dark chambers of the royal palace, mossy wall cold against your battered back, “What do you want?” you spat rudely, the taste of iron prominent against your busted lips, your bloodied teeth bared as you glowered at him, “If you’re here to give me shut about how I shouldn’t have attacked your swine of a—”

“They’re preparing the ship as we speak,” he cut you off, a hint of amusement dancing in his orbs joined by the flickering fire of the wall mounted sconce illuminating his features. He casted your cuffed hands a glance, before gazing at your bleeding ankle, “So, I came as fast as I could. The guards have already left to hunt down your two friends.”

Dread bled into your form, and your blood ran cold at the sudden gravity of his words. You were going to die. God, you were going to die before properly apologizing to Wooyoung, before holding San one last time, before- “I have a few words to share with you- I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell you this soon, so,” you watched him remove the golden coat around his frame, rolling it tightly before placing it down into the cell, “Incase either one of us doesn’t make it.. you know what this is, right?”

“A siren’s coat? Of course, I do. What’s your point?”

A twinge of a smile graced his features at your sharp tone, before his face fell into a solemn expression,”It’s tradition that an heir becomes of age when he or she slays a siren and wears it’s coat as a sign of dignity, bravery, and honor. It’s been the case for many generations before me. My father earned his when he was twenty-three. My mother came from another royal family from Port Hala. They do not hold similar traditions as us, and instead do not meddle or interfere with sirens. When it came for me to sail alone and kill one, at a much younger age than my father was, my mother insisted that our family breaks the tradition. My father, as you can guess, disagreed and left no room for her arguments. She threatened to take me and make a run for it if they forced me into it, and later that night, they found her body not too far from shore. My father informed the public that it was the sirens’ doing, but no one was permitted to see her body. Not even me.”

His eyes drifted to the patch of green on the wall behind you, shaking his head and continuing with a lowered voice, “So, I sailed to uninhabited islands, knowing that there were gentle sirens there, and not like the ones that lurked here amongst humans. I met one, a very young one. He was very adventurous and snuck from his kind to chase his pet octopus and.. he was harmless, unable to hear, thus never really learning how to sing any of the sirens’ songs. He was a very naive, little one. I persuaded him to come on land with me because we were friends, and I ran off with his coat, thinking it would be the last I’ll see him. I never had the courage or heart to kill him, and I never thought he’d wash up into our town, either.”

Whatever air you had left was knocked out straight from your lungs. You knew where this was going. You held his gaze with your widened orbs, bloodied jaw slack from shock.

“I intended to kill him that night he was found, but after the doctors discovered his head injury and lack of memories, other than his name among other things, I chose to spare his life. I was afraid my father and the rest of the town will find out. I was and always will be a coward, even as King of Aurora,” he mused, hands reaching up to adjust his white blouse, “I will be on board the boat taking you to your execution. My bodyguard, Mingi, will join us, along with my father’s right hand man, who was behind Mrs. Choi’s death. She was found stealing my father’s coat, but she managed to slip away before the guards had a chance to retrieve it. My father sent him to do whatever means necessary to punish her for her actions.

I know my father better than anyone else. Without a doubt, I know he was behind her death. (Y/n), please, whatever you do, do not attempt to fight him. Go with the plan. Mingi and I already discussed everything, and he will help you out once you’re dropped from the ship. I don’t plan on allowing my father to return back to town,” his eyes grew dark, the shadows of stress aging his appearance. Your eyes widened at his implications, “And I might not make it out alive. If I don’t, Mingi will give you my coat when he rescues you. I need you to apologize on my behalf if I am unable to. Mingi is a great sailor. His father taught him, so he knows his way around a ship. I want you two to escape to Port Hala as soon as you find Wooyoung, is that understood? Take Choi San with you. Mingi will take you to Yunho and Jongho, two friends of ours who will help you. This town will have your heads if you step foot back here.”

The rush of information was too much for your tired brain to comprehend so quickly. You meekly nodded, cuffed hands reaching to clasp the bars tightly, your eyes never leaving the golden coat he donned on, “Yes, King Hongjoong.” “Hongjoong. Just Hongjoong.”

—

You struggled to maintain the heavy weight of the reinforced cuffs around your wrists, body staggering forward from a boot to your back, your frame crashing into the railing of the large ship. You hissed upon impact, the marks on your ankle bleeding against the bandages. You were roughly tugged by the hair, the bruised face of the former king coming into view as his second in command held you by your disheveled locks, “Helmsman! A bit further and then you can drop the anchor!” The old man boomed, gray tresses tied tightly into a high bun, his charcoal hues burning holes into your head. 

You snuck a glance at Mingi, whose eyes never left your form. His hands gripped the steering wheel harshly, knuckles bone-white. A subtle nod of his head washed a bit of relief over your trembling frame. Hongjoong watched from beside his father, as the man shoved your face into metal railing of the ship, sharp ends of the wood slicing your cheek. A familiar glimmer in the water captured your attention, and your eyes met a pair of golden ones deep under the calm waves of the ocean. Your eyes widened, a gasp threatening to leave your lips.

The ship finally came to a halt, and a pair of shiny, leather boots invaded your vision. You glowered at the king from your position on the deck, cheekbones bruised and lip split. You spat onto his shoes, blood splattering on his ironed, white trousers. Charcoal hues void of any empathy stared down at you, before the former king’s hand reached down to tug you up by the collar of your shirt, his crown sparkling under the bright sun. You shared a look with a tense Hongjoong who remained back, his hands clenching into fists, before you were bought back to reality as the older man slammed your back against the railing, pushing you up, your frame dangerously tilting over the edge, “After my kingdom has sacrificed so much for you stupid orphans, this is how you return the favor?” he growled, the strands of his beard tickling your forehead as he gripped your jaw with his other hand, “You will wish I had just shot you when the sirens rip you apart limb by limb. Your screams of agony will sound like a beautiful melody to my ears.”

Your eyes locked with golden ones, and you couldn’t help but reflect back on the time you confronted him in the cave.

“Why do I kill you treacherous humans?” he laughed at your question, your eyes narrowing as a result. He grasped the moving whelk on the rock, clawed fingers crushing it as his gaze never left your own, “Easy. Your King took my father away from me.”

The gruff man released his hands from your collar to swivel you around, but you hastily threw your arms out to reach his head, your vision unclear with unkempt and bloody strands of your hair. The link on your cuffs latched onto the back of his neck, and you tugged him towards you roughly, hoping gravity will be of assistance. Your frames tipped down and your lips quirked up without you realizing it. The last thing you saw before you plummeted down to the blue waters was Mingi’s and Hongjoong’s shocked faces, the latter’s frame already rushing forward to try and reach you with an extended hand. The three of you were definitely expecting this outcome You dove head first into the ocean, the elderly man beside you only feet away. Your attempts to swim up to the surface proved futile as the weights of the cuffs around your ankles and wrists succumbed to gravity. A purple tail smacked your side, and you came face to face with a familiar visage, the air escaping your lungs in bubbles. Rough claws tugged on the metal chains and cuffs, and after a few attempts, the metal snapped under the pressure. 

“Wrap your arms around my neck. Don’t try anything funny, or this time I will kill you,” the purple-tailed siren growled, turning his head to glance at the other siren who seemed to enjoy circling around the man who seemed to panic at the sight of the being across from him. Golden eyes studied the old man struggling to swim up to the surface.

You desperately gasped for air once breaching the surface of the water, arms loosely wrapped around the back of the other’s neck. He paid you no mind as he carefully watched his friend’s head surface, golden eyes trained on the white haired man yelling up at the others on board to save him. 

Hongjoong’s eyes were void of any empathy as he casually crossed his arms on the railing, leaning forward and blinking in response to his father’s shouts. He spared you a second to gaze at your form, relief melting his stoic features slightly. Beside him, the second in command made an attempt to shoot at the blonde siren silently staring at the former leader, the barrel of his pistol gleaming in the sunlight. 

“Drop it,” the deep voice of the red-head was heard from behind Hongjoong, his own pistol resting against the against the man’s temple. Hongjoong didn’t bat an eyelash as Mingi overpowered the other, threatening to shoot if he didn’t comply.

“Are you crazy!? The beast is going to kill him, and all you’re doing is watching!? You’re a sorry excuse of a king- you! You have never had the power to walk in your father’s foots-” his cries were muffled against the cold, metallic barrel of Mingi’s pistol pressing against the back of his throat.

Yeosang’s gaze met Hongjoong’s, who spared him a glance before returning back to the gasping man, his hands clawing at the ship’s hull with desperate shouts.

“Don’t you recognize me, you bastard?”

The elder’s head turned to peer at the creature with fear-filled eyes, his legs beginning to tire after the long waking minutes of staying afloat.

“A disgusting beast that preys on human flesh,” the other growled, hands stabilizing his form against the ship. His intricately embroidered vest sparkled despite it being wet, dark orbs burning holes into the siren.

Seonghwa’s brows knitted as an undecipherable look washed over Yeosang’s features, his jaw tight, gills rapidly contracting. There was a raging storm within those golden hues Seonghwa hasn’t seen in a very, very long time. Yeosang’s lips twitched convulsively, a crazed look suddenly taking over his visage.

 A humorless, sarcastic laugh escaped his throat, shoulders shaking and brows knitting in confusion as he swam closer to the trembling man, “Take a good look at me! Tell me who I am!” he barked, the rays and fins on his neck flaring in the most menacing of ways, bared teeth gleaming like the ocean’s pearls.

The white haired man drew a breath, his lips parting as he glanced once more at the trembling siren, charcoal hues flashing with recognition suddenly, “You.. you’re the son? You’re his son.”

“The one you tried to kill!,” a howl of laughter left Yeosang’s mouth, as his head dipped back to gaze at a stunned Hongjoong, “Fate is quite hilarious, do you agree? Huh?” Clawed hands struck the ship’s hull, chipping the wood and creating furrows on the surface as Yeosang inched closer, “I was forced to watch my father protect me from you, only for you to kill him in front of my eyes. How brave of you to go after a four year old siren. And now, look at you, you poor, pathetic bastard,” his clawed hand reached forward to grab a fistful of white hair, roughly tugging the man’s head back to meet the gaze of his son, “Not even your son is willing to save you.”

“Shoot him this instant, you bastard! What are you doing staring at me like that!?”

Hongjoong remained as still as a statue, cold gaze unwavering. You swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch. There was a silent acknowledgement of understanding as Yeosang locked gazes with Hongjoong one last time.

“He’ll rather watch as I skin you alive. You don’t deserve the mercy of being under my song’s spell, no..” he shot his arm out, smashing the man’s face against the side of the ship, agonized howls of laughter switching to manic shouting whilst repeating the action, “No, I want you to feel everything. You’re going to feel every inch of your skin being peeled away. A coat for a coat, yes?”

A blob  of saliva flew and splattered against Yeosang’s face, dripping down to the blue waters. 

You jolted as the siren you held onto suddenly gyrated in the other direction, ripping your gaze from the scene as sounds of flesh squelching and tendons tearing came from behind. 

Seonghwa decided it will be best not to stick around to see the outcome, knowing fully well what Yeosang is capable of. He readjusted you onto his back, before commanding you to take a deep breath. An involuntary shiver ran down your spine as the pained cries of the former king were washed out with the thumping of your heartbeat in your ears. 

You were then enveloped in the dark waters of the ocean, the siren rapidly swimming yards away, surfacing for the briefest of moments in order for you to breathe. You had no chance to even ask him where he was taking you, and your mind could only wonder what Hongjoong was feeling at the moment. You were beyond exhausted, both mentally and physically. Your squinted eyes caught glimpses of the clouds of marine life that you hastily rocketed past, arms subconsciously tightening around the dark haired siren.

When the siren breached the surface, you gasped for air, your arms tightly coiled around his neck, causing him to wince and attempt to shrug you off, “Here’s the runt, as promised,” he growled, arms swiftly prying you off and shoving you forward to two other pairs. You stumbled into a tiny dinghy boat, mind too stunned to return the hugs that you were immediately enveloped in. It was the moment when fingers swiped at your cheeks that you realized you were crying, sobs of relief wracking your frame as you wrapped your arms around the other two men, struggling to explain what happened.

Wooyoung’s eyebrows shot up as San pulled you in for a kiss, an incredulous look meeting his features. Seonghwa grimaced in the water, his head turning as he mumbled something about how disgusting humans were. San shared an apologetic look towards the flustered Wooyoung, whose eyes wouldn’t stop flickering between the two of you for an answer.

‘I’ll explain later, promise,’ the ebony haired male signed, before he was forced to meet your gaze.

“We have to go back. I need to see the King,” you stated after the three of you pulled apart. Wooyoung paused whilst speaking with Seonghwa telepathically, eyes flickering to an angered San who grabbed the pair of oars from your hands, “San!”

“Are you crazy!?” He breathed out, “We’re leaving! We want nothing to do with this town any longer, (y/n). Wooyoung and I already made amends with Yeosang. We’re only waiting for him before we escape. I’m not letting you go back there, not after all the trouble we went through to get you here in the first place.” “You don’t understand!” you tried, stammering on your words, unable to conjugate any proper sentence, “Hongjoong helped me! He knows about your mother’s death- her killer! He’s on board,” you tugged San’s shirt desperately, “Hongjoong knows about Wooyoung, too! Before he came to our town! He can explain everything, please. We need to get to him. There’s no one else on board besides them, San.”

Wooyoung’s brows shot up as Seonghwa explained every word that was exchanged, his hues trained on San’s stunned expression.

A sigh left the siren’s lips.

“Yeosang owes me a lot for putting up with this shit,” Seonghwa grumbled, arms already working to push the dinghy back to where he rescued you, your words ringing in his ears like an echo. How did Yeosang manage to find three crazy humans- and what sea god decided to curse Seonghwa with this fate.

Tattered, white and gold, embroidered fabric littered the water around the blonde siren, bloodied, clawed fingers tracing the bejeweled crown in his hands, a solemn expression on his features. A heavy weight seemed to dissipate off the siren’s shoulders as an amused chuckle racked his frame, remembering the horror stricken cries of his father’s murderer.

The sight of a tiny boat in the distance caught the siren’s attention, and his golden hues narrowed in suspicion at the sight. This was not part of their plan at all. As it neared, his eyes bore heavily into Wooyoung for an explanation, flickering to San and then onto you, before he glared at an unamused Seonghwa, most likely exchanging heated words through their minds. You called out to Hongjoong to send down a rope ladder, and the white haired male’s head peeked up hastily at the sound of your voice. If San wasn’t trembling in rage beside you, you would’ve laughed at the expression on the young king’s features.

“Yeosang, are you okay?”

“You better have a reasonable explanation for this,” Yeosang stated, turning his attention to Seonghwa, whose eyes never left the crown in his hands.

A part of you wasn’t surprised at the sight of a bound and cuffed man on the ship’s deck, a bored Mingi towering over him with his dagger unsheathed.

“I had a feeling you’ll return here,” Hongjoong nodded in acknowledgement in your direction, before facing San, his expression sincere as he explained the reasoning behind his mother’s death. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks, darkening the wood beneath his feet as his eyes zeroed in on the gagged soldier feet away.

 Wooyoung’s hand clasped San’s, his heart aching for his friend. Guilt licked the edges of consciousness, regretting not asking her to stay with him and Yeosang back in the cave. If only he had, she would have been alive. Even after explaining to San, the older denying that it was Wooyoung’s fault, he still couldn’t help but feel like her blood was on his hands.

“I give you full permission to do as you wish with him,” Hongjoong squeezed his shoulder, his hand placing a long dagger in San’s palms. Your widened eyes flickered between San and the King. Wooyoung tugged you back, hands gripping your own. His eyes carefully studied San’s frozen expression, fingers twitching against the weapon in his hands, “I’m willing to do it if you don’t want to, of course.”

Mrs. Choi’s killer only shook like a leaf in the wind underneath Mingi’s feet, wild eyes watching the exchange.

San was quick to shake his head, walking past a bleak looking Hongjoong. Steady strides later, and the ebony haired male crouched down eye level towards the trembling soldier, whose eyes glared ferociously at the blank faced Mingi, “You,” he took a deep breath in, tongue darting out to lick a stripe against his chapped lips, “I bet you enjoyed killing an innocent woman, didn’t you?” A flick of silver, and the man winced at the thin, bleeding scrape on his cheek,”Answer me!”

Another flick of the dagger, and the binds gagging the man ripped into two, beads of red escaping the slice on his trembling lips, “King Kim ordered me to! The woman stole his coat! I was only following orders!” 

Hongjoong laughed from feet away, his boots stomping against the deck as he made his way over to the three men, arms crossed over his white blouse, “Mingi, do you think this poor excuse of a soldier hit his head on his way here? Who is the King of Aurora.”

“You, King Hongjoong,” Mingi quipped, a smile threatening his stony expression.

“And who should the soldiers take orders from?”

“You, King Hongjoong. Only you.”

Hongjoong’s eyes dulled as he shoved the tip of his boot into the man’s gaping mouth, pressing down against the back of his throat with hard shoves,”How silly of me. He was only following orders, though. He’s right. One must always follows the orders of a King,” his lips quirked up as he lowered his head to chuckle at the gagging man, his smile borderline manic, “San, as King, I order you to kill him.”

The man’s muffled cries against Hongjoong’s boot had no affect on San, whose hands trembled the longer he stared at him. Hongjoong urged him to go on, kicking the man away with a swift attack to his jaw, his face scrunching up in disgust at the saliva glistening on the leather.

Rays of sunlight gleamed against the edge of the dagger as San raised it high above the fallen’s neck, his hand plunging down despite the man’s strangled cries of protest.

“You’re no better than me, you son of a whore. You take joy in hurting others, don’t you? Will you get off to the fact that you’ll kill me? Will your mommy be proud of you, then?”

The man trembled, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head in shock as the dagger impaled into the wooden deck, splintering it upon impact. Moments of silence passed, the gentle breeze caressing San’s indifferent visage, dark hues hollow as he gazed down at the crying man. Hongjoong watched the retreating figure of San, before giving the sobbing man a glance over, “You’re pathetic. What did he ever see in you, anyway?” The soldier backed against the railing of the ship, profusely apologizing and bowing to Hongjoong. He turned on his heels, arm lazily coming up to wave back as he watched you console and cup San’s face in concern, “Let the sirens decide his fate.”

He ignored the agonized cries, the clanging of metal, and the loud splash seconds later, his smile gentle as he took your disheveled appearance in, “That was some stunt you pulled earlier. You saved me getting my hands dirty,” he chuckled at your expression, the scene reminiscent of the time he found the three of you in the street in the middle of shopping. 

Mingi could be heard in the background giving an approval to someone down below, and seconds later, gargled screams invaded the comfortable silence. You flashed him a small smile, fingers instinctively reaching up to give him a mock salute, “Still getting rid of rats for you, your majesty.”

An affectionate twinkle danced in his eyes as he shook his head in amusement, a hand reaching to ruffle your wet locks, “Always a loyal soldier to my kingdom, I see,” his charcoal hues flickered to Wooyoung, a sheepish expression taking over his visage, “Now I need your help getting my words through, if you don’t mind.”

You nodded, breathless as you quickly signed Hongjoong’s words to the lavender haired male, shock washing the latter’s features at the King’s words, “I hope you find it in yourself to one day forgive me, although I know I do not deserve as much for everything I have put you through,” his hands reached up to remove the coat he wore, before he presented it to the stunned male, “I believe this belongs to you, Wooyoung.”

Trembled hands slowly gripped the golden coat, his eyes peering over at San and yourself for approval. San nodded, brows knitted anxiously as he hesitantly nodded. Wooyoung tugged it on, glancing down to examine the shiny, golden material. Head snapping up, Wooyoung had only a millisecond to gauge your reaction, before the King’s hands forcefully shoved him over the railing of the tall ship, your gasp merging with San’s yelp of shock.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

Your hands clutched the railing, eyes searching the blue waters for any sign of your friend. Yeosang and Seonghwa peered at you from the other side in confusion when you propped a leg up onto the metal, preparing to dive in, when a laugh echoed in your ear, arms tugging you back, “Calm down! He’ll show up in three, two..”

Your squirming figure halted as you stared down in bewilderment at the purple haired male staring back at you from the gentle sways of the waves. Gold pectoral fins and rays shimmered on his neck, and he looked down to study the matching fins on his forearms, jolting in surprise at the lack of legs. His head snapped to his left, where two other sirens gaped, seeming paler than they were minutes ago.

Yeosang’s eyes snapped to you, his gaze already telling you he’s going to demand answers as soon as he’s in earshot. 

San stood to your side, his eyes not leaving Wooyoung’s frame as he experimentally swam towards Yeosang and Seonghwa, both of whom hesitantly reached out to graze their clawed hands onto his tail, most likely wondering if it was real, “That’s why he was able to hear them..” you whispered softly, hands reaching up to rub at your eyes, before you cried loudly, startling the man beside you as you climbed onto the railing, arms waving madly at the three sirens, “Tell him I said he’s the prettiest siren I’ve ever seen!”

San grumbled underneath his breath, arms wrapping protectively around your waist to prevent you from falling over, “Can you try and not give me another heart attack, you bum.”

You and San returned to the tiny dinghy, your hands immediately reaching forward to touch and examine Wooyoung’s form in awe while San frantically explained everything to the impatient Yeosang. Wooyoung shot you a bashful look as you traced the gold rays and fins on his neck, before you peered closely at his now sharpened canines and iridescent, tan skin. He playfully attempted to bite your finger as you prodded his lip upwards. 

‘You look like a diamond now.’ 

Someone cleared their throat, and the three of you turned to look up at a sheepish looking Hongjoong, who clutched the ship’s rope ladder, his frame facing you. Wooyoung’s head snapped up moments later.

“I know you said you already made plans to escape the town but.. I wouldn’t mind having the best swordsman of Aurora join me and Mingi on this ship,” Two pairs of brows raised in surprise at the suggestion, your eyes snapping to meet San’s instantly. The king turned to you, his half-unbuttoned, white blouse swaying with the gentle breeze, his eyes kind and warm.

“You’re not going back to Aurora?” you asked quietly, feeling San’s fingers coiling with your own.

“No,” he mused, chuckling at the sight of Mingi’s discarded tight, golden, guard coat onto the water below, “Mingi and I made a promise when we were younger, to one day escape and put our past lives behind. I have no future in Aurora, and certainly not you three after everything you’ve pulled. Even with my word, I can’t guarantee your safety from the noblemen in the town, so,” he shrugged nonchalantly, boot tapping the wooden deck, “I am in dire need of a swordsman and a..” he paused, studying you in silence, unable to conjure up a position.

“I’ll get rid of the rats on your ship, King Hongjoong,” you said suddenly, frame rushing forward to lean over the dinghy, face scrunched in all seriousness.

His hand shielded his face as soft chuckles wracked his frame, your shoulders slumping down while even San shot you a somewhat amused look, “Of course. You can be the designated rat killer. We also need to patch up that nasty cut on your ankle.” 

Yeosang grimaced at the words, eyes hesitantly casting you a glance from where he floated.

“Wooyoung will come with us too, right?” You turned to glance at your friend, who clearly understood what was going on with the shocked and anxious expression he wore. Yeosang’s golden eyes snapped to you in an instant, a bitter frown tugging his lips down, “Wooyoung is part of our family. We can’t just leave him behind, siren or not.”

“He belongs in the ocean. He’s a siren,” quipped Yeosang, eyes darkening,”His place is in the water.”

“He’s family,” you argued back, eyes narrowing at the teal-tailed siren,���Whatever you two had going on was nice and all- but he’s still part of our family. We’re not leaving him behind. Siren or not, he’s still Wooyoung.”

“Maybe you should let him decide that.”

“Two good friends of mine in Port Hala are expecting us soon, actually. We’ll just drop by months in advance– they won’t mind, I’m sure,” Hongjoong leaned back against the hemp ladder, head tilting back and allowing the sunshine to envelop his delicate features, lips gracefully parting as he took sight of the sirens,”I think we have room for three more, as well.”

San shared a look of bewilderment with you, before looking back at the white haired male, who straightened up to quirk a brow at you, “Siren got your tongue?” Wooyoung’s eyes met your own before he gazed at Yeosang with a tearful, apologetic gaze. 

Family cannot be replaced.

An airy gasp left your lips as his clawed hands reached to grasp the dinghy, before hauling himself into the boat with San’s help. You rushed to envelop him in a tight hug, face buried against the fins on his neck, San following suit moments later. Yeosang peered silently from the water, a hard look settling on his features, jaw tight and brows knitted.

His eyes flickered to San subconsciously.

“Yes,” he whispered, nodding with a wistful expression across his visage , “I’ll protect your son.”

The women’s sad eyes flickered to Wooyoung and then back to the siren, “Please, protect all three of them. I consider them my children as well.”

“I will. I promise.”

“I’m going wherever Wooyoung is going,” Yeosang quipped defensively, “Seonghwa is coming too.”

“What-” a startled cry left the other’s lips, his bewildered eyes boring holes into Yeosang’s head, “I never agreed to this ridiculous change of plans. A human cannot ever be trusted, Yeosang. You know better than that.”

Conflict flickered in the golden hues, gaze trained onto the black haired siren, until a voice from above caught his attention,” We’ll have rules against touching anyone’s coats if that helps. Anyone who touches or takes your coats will be thrown overboard with no questions asked. I can guarantee that,” Hongjoong simpered, nodding his head confidently. 

“Are you really leaving?” Seonghwa gritted to Yeosang, the latter nodding his head in affirmation, “You stubborn bastard.”

“You finally have the opportunity to travel to all seven seas, and you’re going to throw it away just like that?” Yeosang quirked a brow, a knowing smile suddenly finding itself on his features as Seonghwa gives him an unimpressed look, “Besides, he’s certainly earned my trust after everything that’s happened.”

“Don’t use that against me.”

“You’ve wanted to since you were young. Guess I’ll just go live your dream then,” he shrugged absentmindedly, turning to flash Wooyoung a smile, “I’ll send you a seashell as-”

“Shut up already,” Seonghwa ran a hand through his dark locks, suddenly snapping his attention to the other humans, “If I ever find you trying to steal my coat, I’ll slice you and use your flesh as fish bait.”

San paled at the threat, and Hongjoong barked out a laugh, “You heard him, crew. Now, I suggest you all to come on board before the noblemen send an armada after us for not returning back to town.”

He blinked at the gaping, fearful expressions.

“That’s an order!”

You startled at the sudden volume, hand scrambling up to salute, San peering over at you in utter confusion, not knowing whether he should bow or salute, awkwardly doing both simultaneously.

“Yes, King Hongjoong!”

A streak of gold whizzed over your head, and at the sound of a splash behind you, your head snapped in surprise at the crownless man, a smirk displayed on his sharp features, “That’s Captain Hongjoong to you.”