#i just love her so much and it was so fun to see things through her eyes for a while

[impactrueno]

some stuff about lydia's jacket in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. hope you guys are ready for another thinkpiece no one asked for:

right so. colleen atwood decided to give lydia (and rory) these garments that seemed so unfinished it was distracting me. but i know there's a reason for every costume choice, so i watched this super short rundown she gave about a few of the outfits in one of the promotional videos for the movie, but i was disappointed that she didn't say anything about this one. i knew i had to draw it at some point so i really needed to know what it's supposed to be. a friend who went to the Afterlife Experience prop exhibition even took photos of the damn thing up close at my request, just so i could take a closer look and see if i could figure it out. but nothing. i didn't know how to draw it and it was driving me insane. i felt stupid. like what am i missing here

months later here i am, browsing pinterest for my beetlejuice inspo boards and i randomly find it and others like it:

and this is how i learned that these were created by british designer elena dawson. the way this article described this style made everything make sense:

Her Victorian frocks with unfinished seams and hanging fabric strips speak of ghostly things, simultaneously ephemeral and imprinted with history, the stuff of Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter, a witchy presence in the world that no longer cares for fairy tales.

more:

Maybe it is this ghostly presence that informs Dawson’s work, which reflects her fascination with death. “The relation between clothing, ritual, and death is of great interest to me,” says she. “In some respects, through clothing I am also working through my relationship to death.”

and the way she described it herself:

“When you work on alterations you are really tearing the guts out of the garment, performing a sort of autopsy—you really get to see a garment at its most vulnerable point. Observing this state of semi deconstruction in the making of a garment or shoe is what I like to retain in my finished work.“

oh my god.

the clothes are lydia. they are purposefully incomplete.

lydia's whole deal in the movie was that she was messed up from of all the shit she's been through to the point where she's no longer herself. the events in her life have been slowly picking the threads of what kept her together, what makes her her. delia has this great line that basically sums up lydia's pathos in the movie: "you need to take back your life from those hanger-onners, from this thing," meaning rory and beetlejuice. "where's the obnoxious little goth girl who tormented me all those years ago? it's time to find her."

i'd wager they made rory wear the same style of deconstructed jacket for the funeral specifically because he was trying to come off like this was a tragedy to him just as much, that he's "vulnerable" like the deetz women right now. you know, his whole modus operandi and all (unnecessarily large handkerchief included.) interestingly enough, lydia does NOT wear the loose thread jacket that would match rory's coat here. her own outfit is still by the same designer though, so it's like...they match, but also don't. they're in a relationship, but don't fit together.

according to interviews, using elena dawson designs was winona ryder and justin theroux's idea that they brought up to colleen atwood, and can i just say that i love how much input they had on their characters? justin in particular had SO much fun playing rory, his interviews are great. he owned the role. he knows a lot about fashion, so he was the first one to suggest this look and vibe for him.

as for winona, she wore dawson herself multiple times during the promotional tour for the movie. like, this is just her actual wardrobe. you can tell she had fun trying to emulate lydia's bangs and ponytail with these fits too.

i don't know much about fashion, honestly. but i love character design and telling a story through a character's clothes. so obviously i'm nerding out about this hardcore. perhaps i should learn more about fashion so i can do cool stuff like this too.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

I’ve read every single one of your works, and I am absolutely obsessed! The way you write and capture emotions is beyond amazing—it’s pure magic. I really hope this isn’t too much to ask 😭, but I just adore your writing so much. If you’re not comfortable with this request, though, please don’t hesitate to ignore it. Thank you so much!

Could I request a James Potter x Reader story? The plot starts with James pursuing Lily Evans, but along the way, he realizes his feelings for her were more about the excitement of the chase. In contrast, with the reader, he feels truly at ease, able to be himself without pretending or changing for anyone. I’d love for Lily’s perspective to be included—how she starts to desire James after noticing how much he’s 'matured' in his relationship with the reader, but she can only stand by and watch as James and the reader create their beautiful love story.

chase ⋆˚࿔

synopsis ⭑.ᐟ james potter x reader where he realizes who he truly loves

warnings: fluff overload, mild angst

word count: 1,836 words

author's note: omg stopppp you’re making me blush ‹𝟹 this is the sweetest thing ever, and i’m so honored you enjoy my writing!! ♡

navigation┆ james potter masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

James Potter had been chasing Lily Evans for years. Everyone at Hogwarts knew it—how he’d flash his most charming smile, throw an arm around her shoulder with a wink, and dramatically proclaim his undying love. It was all in good fun, of course. At least, that’s what he always told himself.

Lily, ever stubborn, had always rebuffed him. At first, she detested his arrogance. Later, she simply rolled her eyes and dismissed his advances, treating him as little more than a particularly persistent house elf. James didn't mind. The chase was half the fun, after all.

"She'll come around, you'll see," James would say after every rejection, running a hand through his already messy hair.

"Mate, she's been saying no for three years," Sirius pointed out, sprawled lazily on the Gryffindor common room couch. "At what point do you consider the possibility that she's actually not interested?"

James gasped, placing a dramatic hand on his chest. "Not interested? Padfoot, please. That’s just what she wants me to think."

Remus sighed from behind his book. "Or perhaps she genuinely means it. You ever consider not making a public spectacle every time you ask her out?"

Peter snickered. "Yeah, Prongs, maybe if you stop serenading her in the Great Hall, she'll stop running the other way."

"That was one time!" James protested. "And I thought she’d appreciate the gesture."

You, sitting cross-legged by the fire, smirked. "James, darling, even I was embarrassed for you, and I usually live for the drama."

Sirius grinned. "See? When even our dear, theatrical doll here cringes, you know you’ve gone too far."

James huffed, crossing his arms. "You lot are supposed to support me."

Remus finally set his book down, giving him a small smile. "We do support you. We just also support your dignity."

James groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Alright, fine. Maybe I’ll try… a different approach."

The boys exchanged glances, and you patted his knee sympathetically. "That’s the spirit, Prongs. Maybe next time, just… don’t propose in front of McGonagall again."

James groaned even louder as the Marauders burst into laughter.

But somewhere along the way, the chase had stopped being fun.

It had started with you.

You, the one he never really had to chase. You, who laughed at his antics but also scolded him when he was being too reckless. You, who had a quick wit but also a kindness about you that softened his rougher edges. You, who never needed him to be anything but himself.

It hadn’t happened all at once. There was no lightning strike, no grand revelation. Just little moments that wove themselves into something undeniable.

The way you tucked a stray curl behind your ear when you were reading, tongue poking out slightly in concentration. James had watched you do it a hundred times before realizing how endearing he found it. The way you argued with Sirius about the best way to sneak into Hogsmeade, eyes alight with mischief as you held your ground against the self-proclaimed master of rule-breaking. The way you always had a spare quill when he inevitably lost his, rolling your eyes fondly as you handed it over with a teasing, "Honestly, James, do you even own quills?"

There was the way you leaned against his shoulder after a long cold day, sighing. "James Potter, you are a human furnace. Please continue existing exactly as you are."

There was the way he found himself seeking you out first—before Remus, before Sirius, before Peter, before anyone else—whenever he had good news to share. The way his jokes felt funnier when you laughed at them. The way his name sounded different coming from your lips, softer somehow, like it belonged there.

One night, after an exhausting Quidditch practice, you had met him outside the changing rooms with a chocolate frog in hand. "For your heroic efforts," you’d said with a mock bow, pressing it into his palm. He had laughed, shoving it into his pocket, but the warmth in his chest lingered long after.

James Potter had always thought he wanted a grand, all-consuming love. He had spent years chasing something he thought would make him whole. But standing beside you, teasing and laughing and existing so effortlessly together, he realized something else.

Maybe love wasn’t supposed to be a chase.

Maybe it was supposed to feel like home.

Lily noticed the shift before James did. It crept up on her, subtle but undeniable, like the slow changing of seasons. He still ruffled his hair like a prat, still laughed too loudly with his friends, still turned every moment into a grand performance. But there was something quieter about him now, something settled in the way he carried himself. The endless pursuit that had once defined James Potter—the grand gestures, the dramatic declarations, the unrelenting chase—had stopped. And he hadn’t even noticed.

At first, she felt relief. She had spent years pushing him away, certain that his attention was something fleeting, something she didn’t want. And now, finally, he had listened.

Then she felt something else.

She caught herself watching him more often. Noticing the little things. The way his grin softened when he looked at you. The way his hand found your wrist when he pulled you toward him in the common room, like it was second nature. The way he listened when you spoke—really listened, with an intensity that made it clear you had his full attention. She had never seen that look on his face before. Not when he looked at her.

And suddenly, she found herself wondering. Had she been wrong about James Potter?

Had she spent all these years dismissing him without ever really knowing him? Had she mistaken boyish bravado for immaturity, mistaking the show for the substance beneath it?

But it didn’t matter.

Because James wasn’t looking at her anymore.

The realization hadn’t struck James like lightning, not at first. He hadn’t woken up one day and thought, Oh, I love her. No, it was something slower, quieter—woven into the fabric of every moment he spent with you.

It was the way you sat beside him in the common room, curled up with a book, the firelight casting flickering shadows across your face. The way you absently played with the hem of his sleeve when you were lost in thought. The way you saw him—not James Potter, Quidditch Captain, mischief-maker, the boy who never stopped chasing—but James. Just James.

And for the first time, he found that was all he wanted to be.

He didn’t need to impress you. He didn’t need to chase you. He could just exist with you, and it was enough.

There was a night—one that stuck with him, long after it had passed—when he had finally put words to the feeling.

You had found him on the Astronomy Tower, shoulders hunched against the cold, lost in thoughts he hadn’t even realized were weighing him down. You didn’t ask what was wrong. You just sat beside him, close enough that your knees touched, close enough that he could feel your warmth.

“You ever think about who you are without all the noise?” he murmured after a long silence.

You tilted your head. “What do you mean?”

James hesitated. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve spent so much time being—being James Potter, you know? The one who’s always got a joke, the one who’s always chasing something. But with you…” He trailed off, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “I don’t have to be anything but me.”

You blinked, taken aback, before a small smile curved your lips. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

James let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Yeah, it is.”

You nudged his shoulder gently. “For what it’s worth, I like just you.”

And that was it.

Not a grand confession. Not a dramatic moment. Just quiet understanding.

Just home.

Lily saw it all unfold. Saw James fall in love without the fanfare, without the spectacle. And for the first time, she saw him—not the boy who had chased her, but the boy who had finally stopped running.

And it wasn’t for her.

It was too late.

Then came the grand gesture.

James Potter did nothing in half measures, and asking you on a date was no exception. If anything, he seemed almost nostalgic about the whole ordeal—like he had spent so many years planning elaborate schemes for Lily that now, finally asking the right person, he wanted to do it justice.

So, naturally, it started with fireworks.

Not just any fireworks, but ones that spelled out your name across the sky in brilliant, shimmering letters, crackling above the Quidditch Pitch where half the school had gathered after dinner. Then came the enchanted banners floating midair, reading: 'WILL YOU GO ON A DATE WITH ME?' in flashing gold and red, trailing behind a very enthusiastic Sirius, who had volunteered to fly them around on his broom. A charmed choir of singing toads croaked a love song (Remus’ contribution, because, according to him, ‘there needed to be some class in this spectacle’), and Peter had somehow gotten his hands on a bouquet of flowers that smelled like sunshine.

James himself stood in the center of it all, hand on his heart, eyes locked on yours, waiting.

The crowd turned to you, hushed in anticipation. Lily, standing off to the side, watched with wide eyes, an unreadable expression on her face. There was a time when she would have scoffed at something like this, dismissed it with a roll of her eyes.

But you—

You were grinning.

Dramatically clutching your chest, you gasped, staggering back like a swooning damsel in distress. "Oh, James Potter! Whatever shall I say? This is all so sudden!"

James, without missing a beat, fell to one knee. "Say yes, my darling star! For I have loved you since the dawn of time—or, well, since fourth year at least, and that’s practically the same thing!"

You pretended to think, tapping your chin. "Hmm. I don’t know, Potter. It’s an awfully big commitment."

James shot to his feet, grabbing your hands, eyes wide with mock desperation. "I shall spend every day proving myself worthy of your love! I shall carry your books! Share my sweets! Defend your honor against Slytherins and bad hair days alike!"

You sighed deeply, then beamed. "Well, in that case… Yes! A thousand times yes!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, Sirius fist-pumped midair, and Remus groaned into his hands. James, triumphant, swept you up in a spin, laughing so hard his glasses nearly fell off.

Lily watched it all unfold, and for the first time, she felt the weight of what she had lost. Not because she wanted James, not really. But because once upon a time, it had been her he was chasing.

But James Potter had finally stopped chasing.

Because he had already caught what he was looking for.

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[emberglowfox]

“Probably ought to bring you up to speed on something right now. In order to escape, we're going to have to go through HER chamber."

Redraw of an original from September of 2017– someone liked it and made me think about it for the first time in a while. My Portal dragon au was a fun time. I miss just being mindlessly self-indulgent like that, haha.

This is a bit of a weird redraw. Usually when I do redraws, I try to match the style more, so the technical improvement is clearer. But with this one, I was thinking more about, like… if I had the skill then that I do now, what would I have made?

Growing up, I was really envious of looser styles that could rely more on color and light than lines. Lineart and cell shading is still my bread and butter, clearly, and I’ve always enjoyed it. But when I was younger, it sometimes felt like a cage. The old drawing, with its blurry but strong colored lighting, is an obvious attempt to get away from that.

So, I paid less attention to the specifics of the original composition and tried more to capture atmosphere. I love the lighting and aesthetic of Portal 2, it’s still incredibly influential on me, so I wanted to see how much closer I could get now. I’m not all the way there— especially sketching this at 2am with no references— and there’s a lot of things I still want to improve. But I’d like to think past me would have been really, really excited about what I can do now.

[chleem]

not sure if you take requests! I just looove angst

could you write where reader really gets scared because of Drew? Maybe violence or drinking or he has a moment where his temper gets the better of him and he scares her. thinking about him comforting his teary girl 🥰

Also I adore your writing — just read all of your series & one shots and fell in love!

⋆.˚ Warnings: swearing, jealous bf!drew, assault, physical (w/stranger) + verbal fight (with reader), read at own caution

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: and yes, I do accept requests but its not promised i write it tho T_T also, thanks for checking out my other works! (ure my first request btw thx sm

hope this one lives up to your expectations, written just for u my babe <3 

word count: 2.5k

──── 𝜗𝜚 ─────

You and Drew had been out for a casual night, just the two of you, trying to get away from the stresses of everyday life. 

The dim lights, the clinking of glasses, the smell of whiskey and perfume—it was the perfect backdrop for a little escape. 

You weren’t the type to go out clubbing, preferring to stay home. But seeing the gloomy state Drew has been in all day, this might just be the thing he needs. 

The bar was busy, but you managed to secure a spot, both ordering your own drinks. 

He’d been drinking fast, between casual conversations, you could slowly see the consciousness slipping away, replaced with his lazy, a bit drunk self. 

“I gotta go to the bathroom real quick, alright?” 

Drew almost yells into your ear, his voice barely audible over the thumping music in the bar.

You nod, yet was a bit worried whether he could even see in front of him. Drew’s hand lingers on your waist to give it a quick, almost stiff pat before he pulls away.

The warmth of him disappears as he blends into the crowd of sweaty, wasted bodies, leaving you standing there alone, suddenly acutely aware of how unfamiliar the space feels without him beside you. 

The music pulses in your chest, but it’s no longer comforting—it feels loud, invasive, almost too much.

You’re reminded of why you hate clubs- or going out in general, because of the overwhelming energy it takes out of you. 

You shift on your feet, suddenly nervous in a way you weren’t before. Without him here, everything feels just a little too close. 

And then, a hand brushes around your waist.

He’s back.

But when you turn around, your smile falters.

It’s not him.

A stranger, grinning a little too widely, leans in close, his hand still secured around your waist. 

You step back instinctively, trying to create space between you and this guy. 

“Little lady, how ‘bout I buy you a drink?” He coos, signaling the bartender over. He’s got a nasty grin on his face, one that sends goosebumps all over you. 

“No- no thanks,” you immediately decline, glancing behind you for any signs of Drew. 

What’s taking him so long?

“Oh c’mon, Daddy’s treat,” his voice drips low, and he steps close to you again.

And when his hand grips your ass through your dress, you immediately let out scream, but it's’ drowned out by the busy bar. 

“Okay- um, I have a boyfriend,” you say, your voice trembling slightly, but you manage to shove his hand off your waist. It’s sharp, harsh, and you feel your pulse racing, your body tense with a mix of disgust and fear.

But he’s persistent. The smirk on his face widens even more, and you see the way his eyes flicker with annoyance at your rejection.

“What? So? That doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun,” he grins, his breath hitting your face, smelling of rotten eggs, “I’m just trying to show you a good time, sweetheart.”

Your skin crawls.

Panic spikes in your chest. Where the hell is Drew?

But just as the stranger’s hand moves to touch you again, someone else beats him to it.

An arm drapes over your shoulders, pulling you back with a firm grip, until your back hits the solid wall of Drew’s chest. The familiar warmth of him floods through you, that unmistakable scent of his cologne, mixed with the hint of whiskey.

For a second, you’re wrapped in his presence, the rush of his body against yours almost as much of a relief as it is a comfort.

It’s the feeling of being protected—that primal, safe feeling you always get when Drew’s near, and yet, there’s something else, too. Something more possessive in the way he’s holding you now.

“Made a new friend already?”

He chuckles lowly, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. 

The stranger hesitates for a moment, clearly thrown off by Drew’s sudden appearance, but his cocky grin doesn’t fade. Instead, he sizes Drew up, eyes darting to all aspects of him. 

Drew doesn’t flinch, but you can feel a shift in the air. His easy-going tone doesn’t match his body language. 

And the protective hold he has on you right now feels like a silent warning to the stranger.

You steal a glance over at Drew, and the look in his eyes sends a chill down your spine. There’s something colder in them now, but it’s not directed at you—it’s all focused on the guy standing in front of you. 

“You the boyfriend?” he asks, voice dripping with mockery.

Drew clenches his jaw, his lips twitching into a smile. “…and you…?”

“-gonna pound on your girl’s pussy in ways you can’t.”

The sudden comment causes your chest to tighten.

The room feels like it’s slowing down. You freeze, and for the first time, you can’t even hear the music—only the rush of your own heartbeat in your ears. 

The arm around your shoulders tightens.

For a long beat, Drew stays silent, his face a mask of cold anger. His jaw is clenched, the veins in his neck throbbing as he locks eyes with the stranger.

“What, what did just you say?” His voice is low—dangerously low—and it doesn’t sound like the Drew you know.

“I said,” the stranger sneers, “gonna pound on that pussy-“

Then, in the blink of an eye, everything shifts.

Drew steps forward, closing the space between him and the guy in one swift motion.

The arm around your shoulders drops as Drew pulls away from you, shoving the stranger. The force of the push sends the guy stumbling backward, his feet losing their balance for a split second, but he catches himself on the edge of the bar.

You watch in stunned silence, your breath caught in your throat.

You’ve never seen Drew like this, starting a fight- or in anything violent. The way his body shifts, tense and predatory, it’s as if a switch flipped inside him, and you’re suddenly faced with a side of him that feels… unfamiliar.

The stranger mumbles something under his breath, his face twisted in surprise, and he pushes back, hands flying out in a flurry of anger.

Drew stumbles, but not as hard as the stranger did. 

You raise a shaky hand toward him, fingers trembling. Your stomach twists in panic, but you have to do something—anything—to stop this from escalating further.

You try to call out, but your voice feels small against the sudden weight of the room. “Drew? Drew, stop-“

The words barely leave your mouth before the eyes of everyone in the bar land on the two of you. You feel the heat of their stares, the whispers circulating, but right now, you can’t focus on anyone else but him.

Drew however, focuses on the stranger in front of him. 

And before you could react, before anyone could react, his fist flies out, connecting with the stranger’s face with a loud thud. The man falls back, eyes wide with shock, a trickle of blood running from his lip.

The bar area of the club avert their attention to the fight that’s currently breaking out, their own conversations long forgotten. 

The stranger, dazed for a moment, recovers quickly and tries to throw a punch in return, but Drew is already steps ahead. He dodges effortlessly, before punching him again. And again. And again. 

You watch, wide-eyed, as Drew’s movements are smooth and precise. 

There’s no hesitation, no question of whether he’ll fight back. It’s like the anger just poured out of him in an instant, and you have no idea how to stop it.

You want to shout, to stop him, but your voice is stuck in your chest. You don’t recognize him like this. Drew’s usually calm, collected... but here, right now, he looks completely different.

Two security guards burst through the bar door, rushing toward the scene. One of them grabs Drew’s arm, pulling him away from the stranger. The other pushes the dazed man toward the door, guiding him out of the bar.

You stand there, still trembling, as Drew is escorted toward the exit. 

Your feet move before your mind can catch up. You need to make sure he’s okay.

You push through the crowd, eyes fixed on Drew’s back as he’s led toward the door.

Then you hear it—Drew’s voice, loud and sharp, cutting through the buzz of the bar, ”yeah- yeah, get the hell away!" 

He’s shouting at the stranger, still seething even as security ushers him out.

You can hear the anger in his voice, raw and unsettling, and it sends a fresh jolt of fear through you. You’ve never heard him like this before. Not even close.

You’re outside now, the cool air hitting your skin like a slap to your face, but it doesn't calm the nerves tightening in your chest.

The stranger must’ve run off by now—he's nowhere to be seen.

Drew’s standing a few feet away from you, his hands running through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. His back is to you, but you can see his shoulders rising and falling with each breath.

You hesitate, watching him for a moment, unsure of how to approach him after everything.

“Drew?” you call out softly, your voice catching a little as you step closer.

He doesn’t turn around immediately. There’s a beat of silence, just the sound of traffic in the distance and your uneven breathing. 

Then, finally, he lets out a heavy sigh and faces you, his expression blank.

But when his blue eyes land on your body, the way you’ve got your arms wrapped around yourself, slightly trembling, everything inside of him shifts.

His gaze softens almost immediately. 

You look so small, so fragile standing there, and it hits him harder than anything else. The sight of you like this, visibly shaken and scared, makes his chest tighten painfully.

“Hey—” His voice drops soft, a faint crack in it, as he takes a step toward you. “hey- babe, babe, look at me.”

His hand rises toward you, to cup your face, but he freezes for a second.

There’s droplets of blood on his knuckles. The realization hits you, and your breath catches in your throat.

Despite the fight he started, you worry, worry about him. 

“Drew… you’re hurt,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your own heartbeat. You look at him, your eyes flicking to the blood on his hand. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he insists, but the blood on his hand tells a different story.

“No, Drew,” you say, your voice sharper now, a little more firm, the concern for him creeping through your fear. “You shouldn’t have punched him. You could’ve gotten hurt-“

Drew’s brows furrow at your words. His eyes flash, and his jaw clenched as he steps closer. 

“What?” His voice rises slightly, the anger from earlier seeping back in.

Your heart races at the shift in his tone, and for a moment, you feel the same fear from earlier, but this time it’s mixed with confusion.

“He- he said those things, did you not-“

“I know, I know, but—”

“-hear what he said? It’s fucking-“

“-but you don’t have to go that far, Drew. You could’ve just told him to back off—”

“And he would’ve listened?” Drew interrupts, his voice tense, his gaze hardening again.

“I—” You try again, your voice trembling. 

You blink rapidly, trying to keep your tears from spilling, but it's hard to hide it. 

You don’t even know why you’ve got tears in your eyes.

“Fuck- you don’t- are you that fucking naive-“

Drew’s voice raises sharply, frustration and anger spilling over. 

When he raises his hand in a quick motion, your whole body tenses, and you instinctively flinch, pulling back just an inch.

But he was only going to run his hands through his hair, frustratingly pushing them back.

For a moment, you think he might—might—actually hurt you.

The guilt, the regret, floods his face, and his whole posture changes.

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath. 

You don’t want to cry, don’t want to show him just how scared you are, but you can’t stop the way your body reacts.

Drew takes a hesitant step toward you, but his movements are careful, almost tentative, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away again.

“I’m sorry,”

when you hear the tenderness in it, the weight of everything hits you all at once.

You can’t stop the tears now. They flow freely down your face, your shoulders shaking, and you curse yourself for it, but it’s like all that fear, all the anxiety, is finally finding its way out.

Drew’s eyes widen when he sees your tears, his face falling. It’s like a punch to his gut.

Without thinking, he pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in his warmth.

For a second, you don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to react. 

The world outside feels so distant now, and all you can focus on is the steady rise and fall of Drew’s chest as he holds you. His heartbeat is like a slow, calming rhythm against your ear, grounding you in the chaos of everything that just happened.

Your tears keep coming, his hand gentle as it strokes your hair, a slow, soothing motion. 

“I’m sorry,” 

he whispers again, and this time, the words sound even smaller, quieter, as if they’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart too.

You inhale sharply, breathing in the familiar cologne with the alcohol, and strangely, it comforts you.

Even after everything that’s happened, Drew still smells like Drew—that safe, warm scent that’s so familiar, so tied to him in every way.

You pull away slightly, letting your hands rest on his chest. You look up at him, you see it the beautiful blue eyes of his, full of regret.

“I’m sorry,” 

The third time he apologizes, each word heavier than the last, and you can see how much it’s hurting him.

His hand comes up, and you feel the warmth of his touch before you even see it. His fingers gently cup your cheek, and despite the blood on his knuckles, you lean into his touch, finding comfort there. 

“I’m sorry too,” you softly say, which Drew immediately shakes his head at, the faintest smile tugging on his lips. 

“No- no, I’m sorry, I- I overreacted.”

Drew’s eyes soften even more, if that’s possible. “You’re right- should’ve just told him to fuck off.”

You don’t know why- but the sudden swearing gets you, and you let out a breathless chuckle.

Seeing you smile, Drew’s lips curl into a small, relieved grin. Without saying a word, he pulls you close, resting his chin gently on your forehead.

And for a moment, everything feels just a little more okay.

-------------------------------

p.s this low-key feel more like rafe cameron

other

[sanjoongie]

βҽąʂէ ąղժ Ͳհҽ βҽąմէվ

🥀For the YOTV: Year of the Snake collab (ML) hosted by yours truly 🥀Pairing: The Beast! San x Belle! Reader (f) ft Shadow Men-at-Arms! YeoJoongMin 🥀Au: Beauty and The Beast Au, Fantasy au 🥀Genre: romance, smut, horror 🥀Trope: e2l 🥀Rated: 21+(very graphic, very dark), MINORS DO NOT FUCKING INTERACT 🥀Word Count: 14,814 🥀Summary: when your life is traded to a beast on a cursed winters night, you have no idea how exactly it is utter fate for a beast to fall in love with a beauty 🥀Soundtrack: enhypen's dark moon special album <memorabilia> the vibe is immaculate for this fic 🥀Beta's: @downtoamagicalland 🥀Author's Note: please note that the beginning of this fic starts out in 3rd person be reassured the majority of the fic is in 2nd pov!! Otherwise, i genuinely poured my heart and soul into this fic. I love Beauty and the Beast and it was so much fun to write a twisted version of it. Thank you to all my collab darlings who let me go on and on about it 💞 🥀Warnings below the cut!

🥀Warnings: insults, blood, death, violence/fighting, deception, mind games, manipulation, vomiting, threats of torture, taking one's life, choking, injuries from choking, intense descriptions of violence please be forewarned!!!, mental breakdown, vague mentions of nonconsensual touching, rape (not to reader)

🥀Kinks: dubcon, angry sex, predator/prey, scratch kink, bite kink, pet names (little one), public sex, size kink, dry grinding, dirty talk, choking kink, dumbification, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (f), cum eating, blood kink

An open wagon chugs its way through a dark and foreboding forest. In the seat are two shrouded figures, a father and his daughter. The cart is being drawn by their faithful gelding through the moonlight filtered by bone-fingerling branches. Not a creature stirs and that should have been the first clue that nothing was right that eerie evening.

“Father, you should make Phillip gallop.” The daughter places a hesitant hand on her father’s bicep. “I feel uneasy riding this late at night. You heard what the village people say about the forest.”

The father’s eyes glance around as the ground raises on one side of the cart in a soft incline of a hill. It appears as if he is looking for any danger that his daughter senses. “Phillip has been going all day, Belle. He won’t survive a gallop. If we push just a little farther--”

A snap cuts off the father’s words. 

Belle’s shoulders square. “Just a quick gallop, Father, let’s go.”

The father raises his hands as if he’s going to snap the reins to indicate to the gelding that they should gallop, when a wolf launches itself into the back of the open wagon.

Belle spins around in the wagon, eyes wide with fear. She watches as the wolf braces itself to jump at Belle next, so she raises her arms to protect herself. 

“Belle, no!” The father shouts, throwing down the reins and intercepting the wolf.

“Father!” Belle yells as she watches in horror as the wolf and her father fall down the hill that the dirt road is built on. 

At the same unfortunate moment, one of the wagon’s wheels hits a pothole and one of the spokes breaks. Phillip whinnies, scared, and rears, pulling the reins from the wagon. With the jolt of the wood breaking, the cart slides to the side of the hill and tumbles with Belle in it. 

The last thing Belle sees as she lies on the ground is her father stretching his hand out to her as the wolf, and its now gathering pack, surrounds her father. Red covers her eyes and then her vision fades to black.

~~~

You regain consciousness but everything is fuzzy, only slowly coming into focus. The first thing that you realize is that your mouth tastes like blood. Then a roar attacks your eardrums. Were they both from the crash? 

You push a board off of you and groan. You feel various cuts and bruises along your body. Finally, you see why you hear roaring. It is not because your eardrums are slowly dying, but instead there is a great beast battling with wolves. 

All you can see is from behind, but it has a great hairy back. Claws extend from its hands and twisted horns from its head. It slashes downward and you watch as blood flies as the monster slashes open the belly of the wolf, innards spilling from the open wounds. Another wolf pounces on the monster’s back, and the monster roars. It reaches behind itself and throws the wolf with such force that you hear the wolf’s back crack with the force of hitting the ground. 

The monster turns around and bellows a roar of triumph and you realize that you had been mistaken. The hair back is in fact a fur coat. This monster was very humanoid. He still has the talons and the horns, and now that you could see his face you see he has fangs, but his visage is the most devastatingly handsome face you have ever had the pleasure of viewing.

Except now that the monster has finished with the wolves, his eyes are on you. They are dark and as he takes a step forward, the moonlight reflects back, and you find yourself having a hard time swallowing.

You look around wildly and your eyes land on your father’s body. You scramble towards your father, ignoring all the pain that racks through your body. 

“Father, Father,” You chant, bringing his head to your lap, looking for any signs of consciousness.

“He is dead,” the monster states from behind you.

You whip your head back in his direction but he’s simply taken only a few more steps towards you. “Did you kill him?” You accuse sharply.

The monster appears shocked for only a moment before tipping his head back and letting out a deep belly laugh. His fangs shine with his mouth open and your lips form a firm, stubborn line. 

“Why do you laugh?”

The monster threw his arms out wide. “Why, I’m your savior, that’s why.”

You threw a look of pure disbelief his way. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“I was hunting this pack of wolves on my land. I came across you as I finally caught up with them. Your father made a bargain with me and so I fought the wolves to save you. I was unable to save him but you live.”

“A likely story,” you grumble. “How do I not know you guided these rapid wolves to attack and this is not a scheme?”

“Believe me or not,” The monster shrugs his great shoulders. “I will have your side of the bargain held up.”

Your body curls around your father, tears hitting his pale face. “What side of the bargain? He is dead.”

“He didn’t bargain for his life. He bargained for yours.”

Your head snaps upwards to stare at the monster who has continued to approach you. “You are to come with me to my castle and live with me for the remainder of your life as my prisoner.”

Your body begins to tremble but you don’t dare break the gaze of the monster as his boots come abreast of your kneeling form on the ground. You have to crane your neck and you almost fall backwards if not for one great clawed hand catching you. 

“There’s no way that my father would have done this,” You whisper, unable to comprehend what was going on right now. 

“He wished for you to live,” the monster says stoically. “It was his final wish.”

You shook your head, in denial to your fate. “He would rather I die then live as the prisoner of some monster!” you shout. 

The monster snorts and turns around on his heel. “Come, Prisoner. I hope you have enough energy left in the night to drag your father’s corpse because I will not carry him for you.”

You let out a shout, that was part grief and part anger. To your surprise, the monster turns around, face eager and excited. You spit at his feet and grab both wrists of your father. 

You grunt and start to pull your father’s dead body. You pull up flush with the monster, who has not moved since you had shouted, you send him an expecting look. 

“Well? I do not very well know where my prison is, do I? I have a long night ahead of me if you are as dumb as a beast is!” You yell.

The monster growls. “Watch your tone.” 

Towering what you thought was seven feet, the monster has long strides and so you have a hard time keeping up. The forest itself attempts to slow your pace by putting rocks in your path and encouraging the branches to claw at your hair. Each pain-staken drag has you grunting and shouting. It seems like days before you approach your destination. 

“Welcome to your new home,” the monster announces to your back. 

You drop your father’s wrists and brush the sweat from your brow with your arm. You turn around to gaze at your new home.

The castle poses an intimidating figure in the night light. It’s bone-white stones cut into the dark sky. Cone tops and paired with gargolyed corners give it a mixture of fairy tale and imposing doom. You’re not sure if it’s luring victims to their deaths or warning all to stay far away. Either way, it suits your dark mood very well at the moment. 

A scared whinny breaks the silence. 

“Phillip!” You shout, cupping your mouth. “I’m here, Phillip!”

The faithful family gelding gallops towards you, through the forest and halts before you. Your eyes tear up again as your fist curls in Phillip’s mane. “At least you’re not dead.”

“Seems like a beast is smart enough to find its mistress,” the monster says beside you, sarcasm dripping from his fangs.

You shoot him a dirty look. “I don’t suppose you might help me put my father on Phillip’s back? Or would an act of kindness kill you?”

The monster folds his arms over his very broad chest. “I’ve done all the acts of kindness this evening I can afford. I spared your life; that’s enough.”

“Insufferable, barbaric, prick!” You squeal in anger.

You rip a piece from your cloak, tie it around your father’s wrists and manage to pull your father up and over Phillip’s back. You grab Phillip’s reins and drudge towards the castle. 

“Stables are over there.” 

The monster extends a talon towards a small building and you shudder.

“I know what a goddamn stable looks like,” you snap.

“There is feed and water for the horse. I will wait out here until you return.”

You tug Phillip towards the stable. You drop your father in one stall and open another for Phillip. 

“I’ll come back for you, Father,” you say to the night air. 

Phillip hangs his head over the bottom half of the door and nickers softly. 

You press your forehead to his forelock. “You should have run away. At least you wouldn’t have to suffer a monster as a master,” You whisper.

“Prisoner!” The monster yells.

“Coming, my lord,” you say with an insult in your tone.

“Do you curtsy pretty as well?” The monster mocks you back.

You make a mocking face and stride past him up, past a fountain that you don’t spare a glance at, and climb the stairs to the huge door. Even the doorknock is a snarling beast. 

“Fitting,” You mumble under your breath. 

“Out of the way, you thoughtless creature,” The monster growls, sweeping you out of the way easily.

You stumble and find your footing before he pushes open the door with all his weight, the wood separating into two doors. 

The lobby is shabby and not as rich as it should appear. It has the air of rot and musk. The carpet is threadbare and the curtain’s moth ridden. There isn’t a roaring fire in the grand fireplace, nor are there servants racing to take their master’s coat. 

He removes it and chucks it to the middle of a splitting, sweeping staircase. You can imagine there was once a coat rack there but no longer. Instead, the coat catches the outstretched arm of a statue. 

The removal of his coat reveals a tattoo down his spine. The phases of the moon are painted there and you have a hard time not starring. 

“This way!” The monster snaps his fingers and summons you to follow him up the stairs.

“What, no cell in the dungeons?” You mince.

“No,” the monster states. “The dungeons would be too cozy for you. A nice room in a tower, where the wind can keep you company sounds perfect for you.”

You stop in your tracks. Surely he wasn’t serious. You began to look around at your broken surroundings, sure you could find a table leg to stab the monster in the back.

The monster chuckles. “Don’t think about trying to escape. I’ll be on top of you before you can scream in terror.”

“I’m not scared of you,” You deny immediately.

“No?”

The monster strides towards you and looms over you. His eyes are hooded as he stares down at you. “I could tear you limb from limb.”

“But you won’t. You made a bargain.”

The monster's eyes narrow down on you. “I am still capable.” To prove his point, he snaps his teeth a hair’s breadth from your nose.

You blink but remain steadfast. “Of course, my lord.”

“Come, let’s get you freezing to death. Perhaps you’ll show some proper deference when you want to be warm.”

The monster veers east and he almost disappears in the shadowed hallway. Almost.

You are indeed given a room at the top of a perilous tower. The wind whistles through the cracks of the stone, making a tapestry on the wall flutter. A broken window has heaps of snow along the shards of glass. There is a bed and a wardrobe and a vanity. At least there’s that.

You wriggle past the great shape of the monster and then stand in the middle of the room. You didn’t plan on showing an ounce of weakness to your captor. You pull the skirt of your dress to your sides and you bend your knees into a curtsy.

“Thank you for the roof over my head, my lord,” You simper. 

The monster roars back and slams the door. You run towards it and then stop as you hear a lock turn in place. You are truly trapped here as a prisoner of a cruel monster.

“Is this the one?”

“Not much to look at, is she?”

“Are you sure she’s not…”

You feel something cold and fluttering against your side and frown. You curl further around yourself, in an attempt to keep your body warm. 

“Well, she’s still moving. You don’t suppose…?”

“Nah, there’s no way.”

“Did you check it?”

“Course I didn’t! He doesn’t let anyone near it!”

“Would be nice to know. I haven’t felt a tit since--”

You sat up quickly, now convinced the voices were not in your head. 

“What the hell?” You shout.

Three shadows flicker before you, on each side of the tattered bed you fell asleep on. Shadows, you decide, are a much vaguer description than what they actually are. The complicated version was that they seemed human, their faces, hands and feet human skin but the remainder of their bodies clothed in shadow. One is reaching out towards you and you slap his ‘hand’ but your own just passes through it. 

That particular shadow drops his hand back to his side. “No tits for me, I guess.”

“Be calm,” another informs you coolly. “We aren’t here to hurt you.”

“Yet,” the third adds.

“We can’t harm her anyways, what’s the point of threatening her?”

You lift a pillow and throw it through the abdomen of one of the shadow men. “Just leave me alone!”

One of them sighs. “We’re here to bring you to San. He says it's time for you to grovel. If you beg and plead him enough, he might feed you.”

You look at the deliverer of that message like he grew a second head. “I don’t think so.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Your funeral.”

“Oh wait, didn’t he say to deliver a message? If she says no?”

“That’s right.” One of them clears their throat. “If you don’t come down to eat, you won’t eat until you do.”

“Fine, I’ll starve.” You grab another pillow and wrap your arms around it. “I’ve dined on dreams and depression before. It’s not half bad once you get used to it.”

“This is about to get goooood,” one of them says, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“I wonder if he’ll let us watch.”

“Might be able to convince him that it’s more humiliation for her if he does.”

The three shadow men leave your room, not bothering with the door as they have no corporeal form to speak of. But you can still hear their cruel laughter as they poof through the walls. 

What other form of torture was your life to endure?

In the end, it is not your hunger that pushes you to fold but the necessity of burying your father. 

You learn that the shadows' names are Hongjoong, Mingi and Yeosang. You don’t understand much about this castle but you learn that San’s fate and theirs are tied together. All of them blame San for their shadow state but depend on him, so it’s a twisted version of life, much like your own. You owe San your life but you also despise him.

“Well?” San broke through your deep thoughts.

The beast was sitting on a high back chair in front of the cold but beautiful fireplace. You had been staring listlessly at the carvings in the stone on the mantle, trying to find your words.

“Please, my lord. Will you allow me to bury my father?”

San is silent for a few minutes and it causes you to turn your gaze to your captor. He’s leaning forward, elbows bracing on his knees and his fingers curling around his sharp jaw to contemplate you. “You starve for days, refusing to bend the knee to me for anything I demand of you, yet this is what you’re willing to break for?”

You swallow nervously but raise your chin stubbornly. “He was the only thing that mattered in the world to me. He--” Your throat tightens as grief runs through you. “He was the only one in this world who cared for me, genuinely. So I must give him a proper bur--”

“It’s the middle of winter,” San cuts you off. “You won’t be able to break ground until spring.”

“I can--”

San throws a tin cup at you and it dings pitifully against the mantle next to your head. The mixture of a foul-smelling brew splashes you but you are unharmed by his temper. “By the time you manage to make a hole, it will be spring.”

“You would deny me even this?” You whisper hoarsely. “You truly are a beast.”

“Crawl and beg me for it.”

Your hands curl into fists, your nails digging into your palms. You have to curb any instinct to slap him across the face. You knew he could break you in a second. You flirt with the idea of letting him snap your neck but you have to honor your father’s dying wish. You can't follow him so quickly into the afterlife. 

So you descend to your knees slowly. 

San sits back in his chair, arms bracing against the armrests. A small, satisfied smile pulls one corner of his lip. “Much better.”

“Please…my lord…” You say with stilted words. “Please let me bury my father.”

San’s eyes become hooded as you move closer to him. “Lick my boot.”

You fought with your emotions and your pride; perseverance and grief won. 

You lean down, bringing your face close to San’s boot. You open your mouth hesitantly, especially as your peripherals pick up flickers of black. Mingi, Hongjoong and Yeosang are here to view your embarrassment, of course. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, humiliation poking at you. Still, your tongue finds San’s boot. You watch in horror as a strip of spit appears on the beast’s boot. 

“Smart girl,” San purrs above you.

Mingi clears his throat. “Was it just me, or could you feel--”

“Shut up, Mingi” Hongjoong hushes his companion. 

“I could feel it,” Yeosang agrees, despite Hongjoong’s death glare. 

You raise to sit on your haunches, unsure how much subservience San needs for you to get what you want. “So, you’ll allow me to bury my father?”

“No, are you stupid?” San rolls his eyes. “I told you, the ground is too hard.”

“You treacherous curr,” You snarl. You grab his legs, pushing yourself up, and dig your fingers into his thighs. “You said--”

“I didn’t say I’d help you. I didn’t even say I’d agree to this farce. I simply instructed you to crawl and beg me for permission.”

“I will--”

One, sharp talon rests on your jugular. The sharp tip pushes against your skin but doesn’t break it. “Choose your next words carefully, Prisoner.”

“I will go back to my room now.” You swallow your anger but it gets stuck in your throat. You loathe yourself more than you loathe the monster you live with right now. 

“Hongjoong, take her.”

A toothy grin appears on San’s face. You wish nothing more than to kick that smug look off his face but, for now, you will settle with curling up in your musty bed. 

“Come on,” Hongjoong makes a shooing motion as he herds you towards the stairs.

“You are a coward!” You shout over your shoulder but stomp towards the staircase.

“Excuse me?”San growls behind you. 

“Oh shit,” Mingi whispers.

“I know you heard me. You're a beast after all, most beasts have good hearing. Or are you both dumb and deaf?”

A roar sends warning signals to your brain and you barely register the blur of gold along the railing until San is standing in front of you, shoulders heaving as he breathes heavy. 

“What did you just say?”

“I said--”

“Must you test my ability to keep you alive every day?” San snarls in your face.

“I just finished licking your boot for your evil little shadow servants’ entertainment and you dare wonder why I push your limits?” You say as you poke his chest with your forefinger.

“We're not his servants!” Hongjoong protests.

“More like men-at-arms!” Yeosang insists.

“You will eat today at my table or so help me.” San reaches out with a taloned hand but ultimately clenches his fist instead of wrapping it around your neck. “Today,” he emphasizes.

“Or so help you what, San?”

“Or I will leave your father's body for the wolves.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

But as you search his face, you only find firm resolve. He would. San would toss your father’s body to be torn apart by the beasts that had killed him. 

“Your heart is as black as your hair,” You spit.

“Dinner. In an hour. Mingi will bring you something to wear.”

“Something to wear? Do you just so happen to keep women's clothing lying around in this accursed castle?” You demand.

With a whirl of his favorite fur coat, San breezes past you. “And if you refuse to wear what Mingi brings you, you will come naked.”

You are silent as you walk up the winding staircase that takes you up through the narrow tower. 

Hongjoong isn’t silent, however. “You sure do know how to wind him up,” Hongjoong comments.

“Well, it’s not like he’s providing a precedent for being nice,” You mumble.

Hongjoong hums in agreement but casts a look over his shoulder. “You know, he hardly ever speaks to us.”

You roll your eyes. “I wish he’d do the same with me.”

Hongjoong shook his head. “You don’t get it.”

“Then make me get it, Hongjoong,” You snap.

By now, you are in front of the door of your bedroom. Hongjoong stands with his arms folded over his chest. “It’s not my place.”

“Then stop hinting at something you can’t talk about.” 

You breeze by the shadow man and slam your door. Not that that would stop him from coming inside.

Mingi comes in minutes later, a dress swishing in his arms. You are sitting at the vanity with its cracked mirror. It’s flowy, if not a bit worn around the edges. It's as if time itself has eaten away at it. He offers you the dress, his face curious.

“Will you go?” 

“I have no choice,” You say bitterly. “My father deserves better than being ripped apart by wolves.”

Mingi shrugs and then tosses the dress to you. When he doesn’t leave, you send him a glare.

Mingi leers. “It’s not like I haven’t peeked already.”

Your eyes hurt from the amount of eye rolling you’ve been doing lately. “Fine, ogle all you want. It’s not like I have any other freedoms.”

You discard your current dress, dirty and torn when you fell from the cart tumbling down the cliff, and slip into the one Mingi brought. There’s two layers: the underneath is white and the overdress blue.

You rub the fabric between your hands. “Why would he have something like this?”

Mingi’s face blanks. “We should get down there.”

Mingi disappears somewhere between you going back down the stairs in your new dress and arriving at the door to the dining hall. You say hall because it is exactly that: the room echoes as you open the door and you take in the decaying decadence of the room. San is sitting at the head of the table and you walk in hesitantly.

“You will sit here,” San commands.

The sharp noise of a chair scraping the bare floor makes you wince. You pick up your skirts and begin to make your way to the chair that San has pulled out for you. Once you sit down, San’s taloned hand sweeps behind the chair and pushes you in so tightly; you’re practically trapped against the table.

The table is empty, and just as you’re about to inquire if you must pretend to eat as well, San claps, and food magically appears along the table. It is filled to the brim and your mouth drops open. Nothing made sense in this cursed castle.

“Don’t ask,” San growls. “Just eat.”

You had never known a life of elevation. Your father was an inventor and was only able to keep you fed and clothed because of his ability to make complex clocks and sell them. Later on in life, you also grew to adore the complexity of putting a clock together, with its charm of ringing and making a dramatic scene. So when the food from the table melts in your mouth with the taste of spices you were not familiar with, you practically moan.

San tears into a turkey leg he unceremoniously rips from the turkey itself, and watches you closely. “Interesting, watching a peasant eat her first sumptuous meal ever.”

You can feel the heat of embarrassment climb up your neck but still you eat. Now that you were consuming food, you did not wish to be banished from it. Because you knew that was what would happen next if you opened your mouth.

When silence continues to greet San, he continues to fill it. You are reminded of the fact that Hongjoong had said that San rarely spoke to the shadow men. You wondered why that was?

“I will make a pyre for your father. You can find something to put his ashes in. Then we can put this whole matter behind us,” San says gruffly.

You drop the fork you had been using and it clunks against your porcelain plate. “What?”

San continues to consume his turkey leg and then throws the bone towards the dark wall of the dining hall. “A pyre. For your father’s dead body. I told you, you cannot break ground in the winter.”

“So…before? You weren’t trying to…” The words die in your mouth. 

“Trying to do what?” San raises his eyebrows in question.

You shake your head. “Nothing. Nevermind. Thank you.”

“I do not want a body rotting in my stables,” San says gruffly.

“May I…begin to come out of my room now?” You ask hesitantly.

“Have you learned to behave yourself?” San shoots back at you.

You feel embarrassment twist in your gut once again, recalling only an hour ago that you were licking San’s boots. “Do you require me to debase myself for you any longer?”

“I could.”

Your head shoots up to meet San’s eyes. His face is blank, haughty, typical from what you’ve seen of the beast. “You must lead a boring life if you’ve got nothing better to do that torture me.”

San’s eyes crackle with anger. “We are all prisoners to this estate. Including you.”

Hongjoong burst into the hall, not bothering with a door, like always. “My Lord, I have the--”

“Nevermind, Hongjoong. Our prisoner will be going back to her room.”

Hongjoong halts in his tracks. “My Lord?”

San jerks his chin in the direction of the exit. “Put everything back. Yeosang can escort her to her room. We are done.”

“You’re done, you mean,” You grumble.

San launches over the table and grips your jaw severely. “Do you know what you just ate?”

You frown up at him, your jaw aching from how San is clenching it. “Food?”

San practically drags you out of your chair, towards a floor length mirror in the hall. “Look in the mirror.”

You almost didn’t recognize yourself. Your hands were covered in blood and more blood dribbles down your chin and neck. You look like a deranged woman in the mirror. But San, he looks normal. His horns and taloned hands are gone. The look on his face, however, is not normal. His grin is maniacal as he stares into your eyes through the mirror. 

“Did you enjoy wolf meat? Did it satisfy your need for blood?”

“You are a monster,” You whisper. 

“Takes one to know one,” San whispers back.

You break the grip he has on your jaw and run out of the room. 

Why was it your lot in life to live with this monster?

You barely make it to the outside before your stomach heaves up everything you have eaten. The bile burns your throat and angry tears threaten to escape your eyes. You refuse, however, dashing them away, and you wipe your face with your dress. 

“He’s got a face anyone could love and yet his heart is blacker than coal,” a voice comes from the darkness of the night.

“Who’s there?”

“A ghost.”

You scoff. “Monsters, ghosts, shadow men. What doesn’t this castle have?”

“Love.”

You purse your lips together. “You won’t reveal yourself?”

“All you need to know is that you’re going to fail.”

“Fail at living here? I don’t doubt it. If not for my father’s dying wish being to live, I’d throw myself out of my tower window right now.”

“Don’t!” The ghost hisses. “You don’t want to be trapped here in the afterlife as well.”

You open your mouth to pose another question but Yeosang finds you outside. 

“Come on, Belle, better get you back up to your room.”

“Worried for my safety?” You say blithely. 

Yeosang chuckles. “If San kills you, where’s the fun in that?”

You roll your eyes heavily. “Torture seems to be in all your souls, huh?”

“You could say that.”

You stand in one of the many dead gardens around the castle. In the centre of what used to be a well-manicured lawn, a pyre is roughly built. The old, dry logs look more wild than you prefer. Then again, everything on this estate is twisted, isn't it?

The heat of the fire puffs against your face, reminding you that you haven’t said a word about your father.

“Maurice was a man whose brain was bigger than his thoughts. My father dreamed of creations that could only live out in his mind. Even given a thousand years, I don’t believe mechanics could catch up to his ideas. He loved my mother until the moment he died, never remarrying, despite bringing up a little girl. There was nothing my father wouldn’t do for me.”

You pause, needing to swallow down the pain that was bubbling back up in your throat. You push down the random thought bubble that your current situation was because of him. Your father simply did what he could for the sake of you. There was nothing wrong with that.

“This man--”

You throw your arm to dispel another hot gust blown towards you. The smoke from the wood should cover the smell of the burning corpse, but when a whiff of burning hair comes your way, you have to turn away completely.

“Did you bring something for him?”

San’s voice comes from behind you. You turn around to find his large form shielding you from the pyre. His face is devoid of any emotion. You should have known that words never swayed the beast. 

You raise a cerulean, cracked vase for your lord’s approval. “This is okay?”

San grunts and turns around. You can see how the light of the flame flickers across his face, as if any light is fruitless in its attempt to touch him. 

“You said your words. Leave the vase with me.”

Your eyebrows furrow in worry. “It should be me--”

“You’re too weak.” San cuts you off. “Go back inside.”

You feel the backlash of hurt and take a step back. “Fine,” You say with a chill to your tone. 

You stomp back the castle. You feel as if San’s words are stuck in your throat, choking you, filling you with distaste for yourself. Weak? You were surviving him, weren’t you?

You circle around the unattended-to paths until you find the fountain and the front of the castle. Once inside, you toss off your mink cloak, throwing it to the back of one of the upholstered coaches. You have no idea where your clothes are coming from but you hardly care for the fur San insists on the both of you donning, even if it does keep you warm. 

Now that you are free to roam the castle, no longer a prisoner to your tower room, you’ve come across many rooms and items that make your blood curl. It’s a game of chance of what you’ll find. Sometimes you find pity in your gut. This castle had clearly been the epitome of posh. It was sad to see it so ripped up.

Today, however, instead of turning east and exploring outwards from your tower, you choose to take a left at the top of the stairs. You know San disappears into this wing of the castle sometimes. Did he sleep down here?

Yeosang appears in front of you, his arms crossed across his chest. “You shouldn’t be here, Belle.”

You walk right through the shadow man, his form swallowing you up momentarily and then you come out the other side of him. “Stop me then.”

Mingi pulls from the shadows of the high ceiling-ed hallway. “You know we can’t physically, that’s rude.”

You raise a corner of your lip in derision. The way your hatred for the trio of shadow men nearly eclipses that of your spite towards San. “So sorry for your situation.”

“He can’t hurt us but he can hurt you.” Hongjoong’s form drips from the ceiling in one long line until it fully forms in front of you. 

“He’ll hurt me whether I go this way or not,” You scoff, unwilling to relive the few moments before the pyre for your father.

“You will know no anger like this one if he finds you down here, however,��� Yeosang reaches out but his hand passes through your arm.

You shrug, the lingering coolness of his shadow giving you goosebumps. “He’s either a man of his word and keeps me alive or he doesn’t. I don’t care.”

The further into the wing you travel, the more torn up the entire place feels. You can imagine the temper tantrums San’s taloned hands and large shoulders is capable of wreaking havoc. He truly is a beast; no human would continue to make their surroundings this ripped up.

You follow the destruction until you come across a wide set of doors. It feels forbidden and you feel a jolt of excitement travel through you. You’ve had so little to be happy about these days. Perhaps this is exactly what you need.

“Belle.”

You turn around swiftly to see that the three shadowmen have not left you alone quite yet.

“Listen to me. I don’t care what you have to say. You’ve been nothing but little shits, no, worse, assistants in torture, to that beast you call lord. Either shut up or leave me be! I’m doing this.”

You hold your breath as you push the door open and take in what’s in front of you: a grand room with a balcony and large glass doors. A huge canopied bed sits on one side, while an entire sitting room is across it. You can spot the opulence of a lordling. San’s bad attitude definitely began from being spoiled and entitled. 

There’s a table near the glass doors and it seems to be calling for you. The closer you get, lifting your skirt to step over a broken mirror on the floor, you feel a pain in your chest. Absent-mindedly, you rub your chest, right above your heart, and approach the table.

There is a singular plant in the middle with a glass cover. Your pain only escalates but you have to see what the hell is being kept alive in San’s room. There is something small at the top of the clay pot. The pot itself is modeled after a rose in bloom. Odd. 

“What in the world?” You wonder out loud. 

You lean over the plant, reaching out a finger to dig into the soil and poke at the plant. 

“Uh oh,” Mingi whispers and that’s the only warning you get before San lets out a roar behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” San snarls and strides to where you are.

“What is that, San?” You demand.

You do not get an answer, for San wraps his taloned hand around your neck and slams you into the glass doors that lead to the balcony. The glass cracks and you feel your vision sparkle.

“You should not be here!”

You gasp as you attempt to inhale air but your windpipe is nearly cut off from how tight San’s hand is around your neck. It’s sad you can’t spit out your own poison but you find yourself getting giddy as your vision continues to narrow. Squeaky, croaking, creepy giggles escape your lips. 

“My lord!” Hongjoong appears at San’s elbow. “You need to let her go.”

“Where were you when she was scampering off into my rooms?” San demands.

His nails dig into the back of your neck, unrelentless, as Hongjoong answers. “We can hardly stop her! She can’t breathe!”

“What’s one more?” San whispers to himself.

Hongjoong’s hands wrap around San’s arm, despite not truly being able to hold on. “You said you liked this one! You know what’s at stake! My lord!”

Your vision has almost come down to a pinprick before San finally lets go of you and you fall to the floor. You cough and gasp as air finally enters your lungs. You bring your hands up to your neck. You wince, unsure if you can even speak. 

“Belle?” Mingi’s big eyes peer into your face. 

You held up a hand to indicate you’re alive. Yeosang lets out a sigh of relief. 

“You are allowed anywhere but here.” The beast stands in front of you, scowling down on your pitiful body. 

You take great joy in pushing your tongue out at him. Hongjoong snorts and then blanks his face. 

“You’ll need some cool water. Come on, Little Miss Curious. You’ve got your other seven lives, don’t you?”

You crawl around San and somehow manage to stand up but you need help from one of the posts on San's bed. 

The beast must be watching you, for he says next, “He’s in your room, if you were wondering.”

At least your father was put to rest now.

You can’t speak for weeks. The damage San did to you was almost irreparable. The magic table somehow managed to make meals that you could swallow, but that was the only reprieve you are given.

Unable to even speak to entertain yourself, you explore more of the east wing. Eventually, you find the remains of a library. The first day you struggle to even open a heavy curtain so that you can see what is in the library. The second day you almost die because of all the dust that’s accumulated. By the third day, you manage to haul a chair that’s not broken towards the large windows and find some books. By day four, you’re practically in heaven.

Day five is when your happiness breaks, however.

“So this is where you’ve buried yourself.”

You squeak and fall out of the chair where you had been laying across instead of properly sitting upright. Your book sprawls in front of you and you snatch it up. You dust off its cover and put it on the table, only for it to fall again.

You groan and then wince at the pain from your throat.

“What are you?--”

You begin to back away as San moves towards you. His fur coat sweeps along the floor, making a trail through the thick dust.

You hold up your hands in defense of yourself. “I--”

Your voice sounds like a rake over rocks and you swallow hard. San stares at you, his face blank.

You shuffle, giving San a wide berth. This causes him to lift an eyebrow at you. “Why are you acting like a skittish horse?”

You pull a face and point at your throat. You knew he wasn’t truly dumb.

San scratches the back of his neck. “Ah. About that. You see…”

You maneuver to San’s back, not interested in hearing how you were stupid, and bolt out of the library. You wish you had snatched a book but you think that might further prompt San to get angry at you.

You’re not so lucky.

“Hey, where are you going?” San shouts after you.

Your soft slippers have no grip and you are only able to slide shuffle along the floor to flee the library and the beast behind you. You can hear him pursuing you. His boots are squeaking across the worn wood of the floor.

It hurts like hell when you let out a noise of fear and slam into a wall, unable to halt your skittering. You shoot a look down the hallway and see that San is bounding down the hallway after you still.

“Wait!”

You push forward. If you make it outside, perhaps he’ll stop pursuing you?

You take the steps of the spiral dual staircase two at a time. How you manage to not trip and break your own neck is beyond you, but still you have hope as the doors are getting closer and closer.

“What is wrong with you?!”

San’s hand slams down on your shoulder and your feet shoot out in front of you as the momentum of your run looks to carry your limbs forward. You slam down on your ass and let out a squeal. You wiggle, desperate to get out of his hold. You know you’ll never win if he truly doesn’t want to let you go, but it seems you don’t want to die after all.

Your struggling only ensures that San clamps down on you more. You let out a noise of pain as his talons prick your collarbone and sternum.

San lets go of you immediately. Your hands find purchase and you push yourself up and scramble towards the doors to the outside. You think if you can make it past the fountain, you might lose yourself in one of the gardens. San usually bores of you quickly, seeing as how easy he dismisses you from dinners.

You know you’re wrong when you eat dirt. San’s body covers yours. He must have jumped on you to plant you into the ground. It’s cold and hard and you regret all your life choices that has brought you here to this moment. Mostly because you’re sure San has a weapon on him, because what was that hard thing near his hip?

“Stupid human, what are you running from?” San shouts.

All you can manage is a garbled yell in response. Your throat is burning; this is the most noise you’ve made in the weeks following your incident in the west wing.

San lets out a noise of frustration from the back of his throat and turns you around. He grabs both your wrists and pins you beneath him.

“Will you listen to me?” He snarls.

You stubbornly turn your head to the side with a huff. Hongjoong, Mingi and Yeosang come into your vision. Great, of course those three were here to see your demise at San’s hands once again.

“Perhaps if you strangle her again, she might be more inclined to listen!” Yeosang observes.

“She hasn’t gone back to the west wing since then, he’s got a point,” Mingi agrees.

“Will you two shut up?” Hongjoong commands.

“You can go in the library,” San says and your head snaps back to his face. His eyes widen for a moment and then he’s the one to avoid your gaze. “It’s not like anyone else is using it.”

You move beneath him again, attempting to raise your arms up but are unable to push back far before his hands push your arms against the ground again.

“Stop moving!” San hisses at you.

“Let…me…go!” You croak.

San presses his lips together. “I will. I will. Just. Stop. Struggling.”

You become limp like a dead fish. If that’s all it took to get him off you then you’d comply. It was cold on the ground.

San stands up, wrapping his coat around him, as if it was his comfort. What a weird gesture. You are certain he’s never cold. Otherwise, why would he walk around with just that damn jacket and no shirt under?

“I’m almost kinda sad she can’t speak any more. I miss their arguments,” Yeosang says in a stage whisper.

San turns around on his heel and is back up the stairs before Mingi can agree with Yeosang. Hongjoong, however, is staring right at you. You throw your hands up in a gesture that wonders what he’s thinking.

“Your horse is getting antsy. You should consider going on a walk with him,” Hongjoong says, completely surprising you.

Your head swivels towards where the stables are as you sit up. You're happy to see that your wrists don’t provide a matching look with your neck.

Your head turns back towards San’s back, fading into the darkness of the castle. Would he let you ride Phillip?

Hongjoong follows your gaze and clears his throat. “My lord?"

“What do you want, Hongjoong?” San’s voice is heard from the lobby.

“If Belle wishes to go on a short walk with her horse--”

“Where?” San snarls.

“Well, my lord, if you accompany her--”

“Fine!” San snaps. “Later, after dinner.”

A faint, conspiratory smile pulls at the corners of Hongjoong’s lips. “There you have it.”

You have a feeling in your gut that Hongjoong is up to something but you have no idea. Perhaps he wishes for another near-death incident to send you towards complete servitude of his lord?

And so begins another ritual of your day. As you dine in silence with San, ever unsure as to what exactly you’re eating, you go for walks with Phillipe and the beast. Even after your throat heals, you remain in silence the entire time, other than for a soft word to the only tie to your old life.

So you almost fall off Phillipe when San says he had a horse like Phillipe before.

San purses his lip to the side, unimpressed by your inability to keep your cool around him any longer.

“Wha--what was their name?” You ask.

“Her name was Beauty. She was black as night--”

You snort at the absurdity.

“...what?”

You send him a long look. “Of course your horse was black.”

“She was of the most expensive stock!” San protests.

“Of course, nothing less for our lord,” You reply.

“She was loyal to a fault. You’re lucky to have him,” San continues.

“You have the others,” you point out.

“They are not loyal,” San disagrees. “They do what I say because that is their place.”

“Well.” you lean down to pat Phillipe’s neck. “Phillipe will flee if it saves his own neck. Sometimes we’re all just scared.”

“Are you?” San asks. He reaches and grabs Phillipe’s reins, halting your walk. He stares up at you, waiting for your answer.

“I don’t want to be,” You choose to respond. “Should I be?”

“I am a beast,” San replies, as if that’s an answer in itself.

You tilt your head. “You certainly act like it.”

“I…” San falters with his words. “I haven’t had a reason to act like anything else but.”

You both remain in silence until you finish your circuit and arrive back at the castle. You wiggle off of Phillipe and are about to lead him back into the stable when San speaks up again.

“If I…act less like a beast…will you begin to speak again at dinner?”

You arrange Phillipe’s forelock. “Why would I do that?”

“Because the silence is insufferable!” San protests.

“It’s fine for me,” You reply.

“You are--” San lets out a noise of frustration. The hair on the back of your neck is the only warning you get before San grabs your arm and pulls you away from Phillipe. “I cannot kill you!”

“You have a funny way of showing it!” You shout up at him. “Let go of me!”

“No!” San shakes his head. “You only seem to listen to me if my hands are on you!”

You raise your head stubbornly but also to show your neck. “Go on then! Give me another beautiful bruise along my neck!”

San’s eyes narrow down at you. “I don’t want to strangle you.”

“Well, I want to!” You yell.

“Fine.”

You squeak as San falls to his knees. He grabs your hands and brings them to his neck. “We’ll be even, then.”

“Like I could harm you,” you mumble under your breath. “Your neck is like a tree trunk.”

“Do it,” San commands you softly.

You think about when San made you lick his boots and your hands unconsciously tighten around his throat. A sweet, soft whimper comes from San and something twists in your gut. You like it, you realize, and that makes you let him go.

As your hands drop to your sides, a slow, arrogant, crooked grin appears on San’s face. “Liked it, didn't you?”

“I am not a monster like you,” You scoff.

“Not yet,” San says.

You jolt upwards in your bed, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. Something had woken you out of a deep sleep. You hear a loud roar again and smash. What was going on?

You grab your fur coat, wrapping it around you tightly, and make your way down the tower’s winding staircase. You find San in front of the lobby’s main fireplace. His jacket is shrugged off, on the floor like a discarded skin. He’s brought one of the highback chairs close to the fire. You see his face wince as he pokes at--

“What happened?” You demand.

“More damn wolves,” San snarls. “They think they can just sweep into my territory even though I don’t mark every damn tree.”

Your bare feet move closer towards the monster that was your captor. “Are you…hurt?”

“Of course I’m hurt!” San shouts. 

He pokes at five deep gouges on his arm and then hisses at the pain it produces. 

You move to stand in front of him and see that the damage is even worse. There are bite marks on his shoulder too. “I can help--”

San’s head snaps upwards to meet your gaze with a fiery one of his own. “Why would you want to do that?”

You wave one of your hands to indicate somewhere around here were his men-at-arms. “They can fetch you the supplies but they can’t touch you, San.”

San begins to grumble under his breath. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Then consider it… repayment,” You attempt again.

“Repayment for what?” San narrows his eyes at you.

“For…my father,” You swallow down the emotion that’s constricting your throat.

“Ah.” San’s face is unreadable. “Fine.”

“My lord,” Yeosang appears from the flickering shadows. 

“Get something to boil water in,” You recommend. “And some rags. We can boil them too. Is there some alcohol?”

Whatever you ask for, Mingi delivers swiftly. The three shadowmen watch you in silence as you prepare everything you need. You take a swig of the clear alcohol first, however, and then offer it to San. The fire only highlights San’s jawline as he tips his head back and drinks down the beverage. Some rivulets spill down both sides of his mouth and trail down his neck. 

“Leave some alcohol so we can clean your wounds,” You murmur.

San lets out a lusty ‘ah!’ as he finishes drinking. “Since when are you a nurse?”

You shake your head. “I’m not. Father was just a little clumsy with his tools. I used to patch him up. Nothing worse than a finger caught in between two cogs.”

Hongjoong squeezes and dries some of the boiled rags and offers them to you when you reach out. You grab the rag with one hand and then drench San’s arm with the alcohol.

San roars in pain and snatches his arm back. “That hurt!"

“Did you expect it to feel good?” You hiss back to him.

The alcohol that spilled into the rag is used to dab at the gouges on his arm. He flinches at the pain but he keeps his mouth shut. His eyes are on you, however, you can feel them burn into you.

“Why do you hunt the wolves?” You wonder.

“Because I am a monster,” San says with arrogance. 

You tsk at him. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only answer you--are you enjoying inflicting pain on me?” He yells.

“No, I do not,” You reply in a clipped tone. “You better stay still. I have yet to get that bite on your shoulder.”

Methodically, you wrap another clean rag that’s passed to you by Mingi this time around San’s wounded arm. The shadowmen are abnormally quiet for some reason. 

“They used to scare me. As a child,” San says in such a low tone, you almost don’t catch it.

Shock runs through you but you try not to show it. Odd to think of the monster before you as a small child. Instead, you lean over San and pat at the bite marks on his shoulder. 

“So you hunt them down?” You ask.

“I show them that they do not scare me any longer,” San allows. 

Hongjoong gives you the final rag that you wrap around San’s torso. You grab his opposite shoulder to make him lean forward so you can do your work. San is being awfully docile. You’re not sure exactly what’s going on. 

“There. You’re all set.” You clap your hands in finality. 

San’s silent and now you know why he’s being so docile. The entire time you weren’t working on wrapping his shoulder up, slanting the rag from shoulder to rib cage, he was staring down your dressing gown. 

“Get a good eyeful like Mingi, hmm?” You say, nonplussed.

San’s head jerks towards Mingi, who holds his hands up in defense. “Have you been staring at her naked form Song?” he growls.

“Of course not, my lord!” Mingi protests. “I wouldn’t even think of such a thing.”

You snort at the lie. San gets up out of the chair, a growl vibrating from his lips. “If I find out you’re lying to me…”

“Mingi’s stupid, but he’s not an idiot!” Yeosang protests. “We’ll leave you two to your evening, let's go.”

The three shadowmen melt into the shadows and then it’s just you and the beast. 

“I suppose a thank you is in order,” San says gruffly. 

You shake your head. “An eye for an eye. We are balanced now, you and I.”

San tilts his head. His skin appears even more bronze in the firelight. “I would not describe us as balanced, Belle.”

Your whole body rocks backwards. You were sure that was the first time San had referred to you by your first name. Not human. Not prisoner. But Belle.

You press your lips into a thin line. “No, I don’t suppose so.”

San offers you a clawed hand and you stare at it like it’s foreign. “Come with me.”

“I just patched you up! Surely you don’t intend to throw me back into my tower! Let me warm up by the fire for a bit at least!” You protest.

San shakes his head and his hair falls in his eyes. “No, we’re going to the west wing.”

You begin to back away slowly. “San, I haven’t gone back there. I swear.”

“Just take my damn hand!” San loses his temper again.

Trembling, you place your hand in his and then he’s suddenly dragging you into the darkness. 

Your heart is in your throat. You can hardly see anything, and so you trip and almost fall, if not for the firm grip San has of your hand. He doesn’t say a word, although he does growl a few times when he has to tug you forward. 

At last, you realize he’s taken you to his room. San doesn’t let go of your hand, even as he drags you over to the small table where the rose pottery is. You peer around San’s body, the moon phases barely visible along his spine, and you see the black thing that was in the middle of the table has grown. 

You try to move forward to examine it further but San jerks you back. “Wait.”

You wait, looking at him expectantly. His face is hard, not softening his sharp features one bit. 

“There is a curse on this estate. It stems from me. I once messed with the wrong woman. This plant is my only salvation.”

“What does it mean?” You ask.

“If the plant grows--if I right my wrong--I will be broken of this curse. The land will be restored. Mingi, Yeosang and Hongjoong will be human again.”

You remember the image of San in the mirror. Without his horns and taloned hands, he looked like… You gasp and bring one of your hands to your mouth. “Then you’ll no longer be a monster?”

San shakes his head. “You don’t understand.”

“Didn’t you bring me here to try to explain?” You’re confused.

“Belle…”

“Will I be free if the curse is broken?” You wonder next.

“Free?” San turns his head towards you, his eyes unreadable. “No. Your life is tied to mine.”

“Why?!” You shout at him. “I have done absolutely nothing to you! Nothing to deserve this! I freeze every night in that tower. I have to endure your mental and physical torture. So what if you feed me and take me for walks. Am I a pet to you?”

“I--” San’s jaw snaps shut and a muscle there tenses. “You will understand eventually.”

“Well, if you don’t explain it to me, how am I to get it?” You yell. “Never mind.” 

You tear your hand out of San’s grasp and stomp out of his room. That was the last time you showed an ounce of compassion to that beast!

The next day you sequester yourself in the library. You do whatever you can to escape your current reality. You read about a woman trapped in a tower but that’s too close to your current situation. You try for another but it’s two star crossed lovers. You close the book loudly and sigh. What was with your state of mind today?

Your stomach growls but you ignore it. You refuse to do anything that would make San’s life better. You won’t give him the satisfaction of eating with him or going on a walk with Phillipe or--

The library doors burst open, bouncing off the walls with the force they are pushed open with. “What are you doing in here?” San demands, walking straight to your spot in the chair.

“You said I could be in here!” You protest.

San runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Yes I did. But what about dinner?”

“I’m not going anymore.”

San’s mouth opens and closes and then he’s scowling at you. “Yes, you are.”

You don’t know what you were thinking, but the next thing you know, you throw your book at San. It lands with a thwap on his chest and falls to the floor. “Stay away from me.”

“Belle,” San held his hands out as if to say he was harmless; as if he didn’t have claws that you’ve seen tore out wolf’s stomachs. 

“Don’t you ‘Belle’ me!” You shout at him. You try to put the chair between you and him. “I’m not going to dinner. And you can’t make me.”

“I can throw you over my shoulder and slap your ass if I so choose.” San folded his arms across his chest. “So either you get to that dining hall or I will make you.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Fine. I gave you a choice.”

San lunges for you and you squeal. San’s body is cutting off your escape route to the exit so you run further into the library instead. 

San’s belly chuckle chases after you. “You wanna play this game again?”

“It’s not a game!” You shout over your shoulder. 

You begin to eye the ladders to the second level. Perhaps you might be able to clamber up before San catches up with you. You quickly grab a rung and start to haul yourself up. 

Unfortunately for you, San’s advantage in height means he’s able to grab your waist and pull you down easily. 

“Got you!” San announces triumphantly. 

Just one of his arms wrapped around you is all he needs to do to keep your arms to yourself. Except that allows you to throw everything into your leg movement. You try to drive your heel into a very sensitive area but you only manage to dig into his inner thigh. San’s singular grunt is the only acknowledgment you’re even doing anything. 

“Now, let’s get back to the dining hall,” San says.

“Let go of me!” You insist. “I will bite you.”

San chuckles under his breath. “Don’t promise me a good time.”

Despite his clear warning, the only thing in your mind is to escape San’s confines. So you lower your head as far as you can and you bite into his arm. San hisses and then he begins to cackle. “Little one, you do not know what you’re getting into.”

“I will bite a chunk out of your arm if you don’t let me go--San!”

You’re pinned against a bookshelf but it’s not like the time San slammed you against the glass door. This time one hand is splayed along your chest to keep you there and his leg is in between yours. 

Your hands grab his bicep and dig your nails into the skin there, close to where your bite marks are. When San moans, you freeze in place.

That cruel, crooked smile that blooms on his face makes your face drain of blood. 

“I’m a beast, am I not? What better to get my blood pumping than with a chase and a bite.” You swallow hard but your mouth is devoid of any moisture when San leans in close so that one of his teeth skims your ear. “What would your little talons feel as they dug into my back, Little One?”

“What are you doing?” You whisper. 

“You know the best way to help with boiling over tempers?” San purrs.

“No.”

San leans back so that he can get a good look at your face. His thigh flexes and he pushes you higher up his leg. “No?”

“You let go of me right now,” You command.

You’re scared shitless of what is happening right now. When had the thin edge of anger and spite turned over into this…?

“Are you scared?” San tilts his head. “Your heartbeat is going wild in your chest.”

“I’m not scared!” You lie through your teeth. “I want you to leave me alone!”

San shakes his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Yes you can, you great, hulking beast! Let me go right now!” You struggle and then let out a whimper as your lower half grinds against San’s leg.

San’s eyes are dark with lust. “Will you use me for your pleasure? Is that how this will work? Get yourself worked up and then I can slide between your plump thighs--”

“Stop that! No! I’m not--!” You only manage to rub yourself further against San’s thigh. You clamp your teeth down on your treacherous lips. “Remove your thigh from between my legs. You are only proving how much of a beast you truly are.”

“Then you won’t be surprised when I don’t change my tune, will you?” San murmurs before his head dips and he tilts his head.

His nails only slightly prick into your skin, almost as if he’s a cat kneading his claws into you. “Let me taste your poisonous lips.”

“San.”

“Yes?” San’s lips hover over yours. You can feel his moist breath on your lips. If you even push out your lips too far, you’ll meet his.

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too,” San agrees and then presses his lips to yours.

He’s very careful with his fangs but that doesn’t stop him from playing his tongue against yours. He’s almost hungry for the kiss but you don’t have any thoughts to spare towards the why of this. It’s all you can do to keep up with his pace, unsure why exactly this feels so perfect. 

San breaks the kiss, his tongue remaining out of his mouth, and a string of spit breaks between the two of you. “I will have you, here and now.”

“You will not!” You squeal. 

San grabs one of your hands and presses it against his pelvis. He is throbbing under his thin pants, twitching in your hand. You cast aside the feeling of empowerment it gives you immediately. “I will.”

“We can’t--you are--the others--” 

Your mind races but you can’t settle on a good and true reason as to why this can’t happen. Who was going to walk in on you? The shadowmen? They wouldn’t dare, with the way San threw a fit when he heard about Mingi spying on you. By the feeling of your lower half, you knew that you weren’t opposed to it. But this beast was--you hated him! Didn’t you?

“Throw your anger at me, Little One. I can take it.”

San tilts his head in the opposite direction and tempts you with another kiss. This time he carefully nips your lower lip and when you gasp as he fully grips it between his teeth and pulls slightly. 

Your hand, still pressing against San’s erection, pushes harder against his length and he groans for you. 

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” San instructs you. 

Against your better judgement, you do exactly that. Your skirts push over your hips and it’s simply your hose and garter and nothing else in view. 

San’s fevered brow presses against yours as he takes it in. “You’re so tiny.”

“I…” You gulp and say more to yourself than anyone. “Babies come from there. Surely you’ll fit.”

San lets out a laugh that reverberates through his chest. “I have a feeling it will be a perfect fit for you.”

Before you can ask him what the hell he’s talking about, his taloned hands deftly undo the buttons to his pants and he pushes them down to his knees. He’s straining against his stomach. You can practically see the veins pulsing with need along his shaft. His cockhead is angry and red. He’s nothing like the arrogant Jongho that fucked you in your village. 

San takes a step back, if only to press both of his hands to your lower back. Your cunt lips press against his cock shaft with a very embarrassing, wet noise. It only entices San to look down at you with hooded eyes. “How delicious will the press of my cock be to your cunt?”

“Only one time, San,” You say as you lick your lips. 

San laughs deep in his throat. It almost sounds pained to your ears. “I have a feeling I won’t be able to quit you after one time.”

You flex your thighs so that you can hover over San’s mushroom cockhead. It splits you easily enough but it’s a stretch. He’s just so thick. His thumbs brush over the dimples in your back, soothing you. 

“Take your time.”

How you manage to endure sinking down on him, inch by inch, blows your mind. But you do it and soon your body adjusts to his thickness. “I--San--be careful.”

“Like fine china,” San murmurs under his breath. 

With one hand braced against the bookcase, he crooks his hips and you whimper. He takes his time with you but it quickly goes from worry to frustration. Your cunt is aching and he seems to be torturing and tempting you, as if he wants you to commit to memory how he feels inside of you; every damn inch of him. 

“You!” You gasp and start to roll your hips.

“Too much?” San smirks at you.

“Not. Enough.”

San's hand moves to squeeze your waist. “You said to be careful.”

“I need more,” You growl.

“I don't think you can handle more.”

You both watch as San pulls out, your inner lips gliding along as if beckoning his cock to not leave. 

“Faster,” You urge, wrapping your legs more firmly to get leverage. “Harder.”

“But you're such a fragile human.”

San eyes roll wildly. The whites of his eyes flash and you hold your breath as his hand finds your neck again. You squeeze your eyes shut and for a moment, you think, this will be the end of you. San's hand squeezes but you are still able to breathe. Each whistle of air into your lungs was sweet and lovely. But your end never came.

San's hips slam into you and you let out a choked cry. You're stuffed, truly fully stuffed and it feels like heaven.

Your air starts to come out in hammered puffs because of the way San is thrusting into you. Your brain goes blank and all you can focus on is the pending pleasure pouring through you. 

San lets go of your throat, if only to lean in to bury his face in the crook of your neck. His fangs play along the thin skin of your neck and you gasp. The lack of air seems to have heightened your senses. Everything feels more. 

“You're doing so well,” San praises you. “I told you; we’re a perfect fit.”

“San,” You moan his name. It's the only word you can form.

“Are you ready, Little One? You had better be coming because after I unload in you, I don't think I'll be able to stop,” San admits in a husky tone.

“In me?” You say in alarm.

“You needn't worry,” San hums. “I'm infertile for a human.”

You whimper as your climax builds. You wrap your arms behind San’s neck. “I need to come.”

San’s hands curl around your ass and legs from behind you and he untangles your legs around his waist. Your back scrapes the spines of some books as your body weight is forced back so that San can focus on pounding into you.

Your cries come out more urgently. Your climax is coming. You begin to chant San’s name, each single syllable coming out more whiny than the last. And when it finally bursts over you, you hold in your breath. 

Your walls fluttering around San is all he needs to ram into you with one swift thrust and twitch inside of you. You know you're in trouble when you can feel him dripping out of you--quickly and in copious amounts. He's dripping sweat onto your dress and he blinks hard like there's a threat of his soaked hair going to blind him. His lips are pink and plush. His eyes are dark but clear. You’ve never beheld him so…unguarded but also so natural. It was as if all his walls were down and after sex, he was in his true form.

“You're not leaving my bed for anything,” San pants.

“We're not in your bed right now, San,” You deadpan.

“Not yet.”

San pulls you off of him and sets you down. You can feel your face heat up as his cum dribbles down your thighs. Thank god for your dress settling down otherwise you were sure the sight of it would send you to an early grave. 

Once the beast does up his pants, he sweeps you up into his arms. “Your tiny legs can’t keep up with mine,” He growls and then he’s leaving the library and moving down the hallway toward the west wing.

Was he truly bringing you to his bed? This beast, that was so hot and cold with you, so careful to feed you crumbs of his life, was taking you to his inner sanctum…again? What was it that he was so sure you needed to know but also wanted to keep you away from?

Your inner thoughts come to a halt as San closes the doors to his room and he carefully dispatches you to his bed. It’s a bundle of worn blankets but it’s almost cozy in its chaos.

One of his claws catches on your dress to draw it upwards and he groans at the sight of his cum running down your legs. Before you can stop him, his tongue is cleaning you up. Your thighs are now wet with his saliva and he dives head first into your cunt.

“S-san!” You protest. You’re still sensitive from your orgasm and besides, his fangs!!

It was a mistake to call his name while he was between your thighs. His dark eyes roll up to meet yours but his tongue doesn’t stop. No, the beast continues to push in and out of your hole, his own cum seeping onto his pink tongue. 

You whimper at the sight and swallow to no avail. “You are disgusting.”

San only stops tongue-fucking you to say, “You just fucked a beast, what else would you expect?”

Your hands dive into his hair when his tongue finds your clit. He flattens his tongue and worries back and forth on your clit. Your legs close around his head but he patiently pushes your legs back to be spread on the bed. Your hands migrate to his horns. You wrap each hand around the twisted, obsidian horns and push him further into you. 

“San, San,” You whimper his name, bucking your hips up into his face. 

“Stay still, you’re going to--” San begins to growl but is interrupted by a sharp gasp from yourself. 

One of his fangs catches on your sensitive flesh. You watch as San’s pupils blow, seeing the blood on your cunt. And he dives right back in to lick it up. Soon, you forget the pain as he begins to suck on your clit eagerly. You whine because you can’t rock up against his face but your climax comes again, bursting through you like fireworks. 

You pant as the beast climbs up your body. His face is covered in your cum, and it’s tinged rose with your blood, and still he kisses you. His tongue tangles with yours, your cum rubbing onto your face. You grab the back of his head and return the kiss. You feel utterly debauched but you can’t help the fire that’s burning in your stomach. It’s not even quenched after two orgasms, in fact, it’s inflamed for more.

“I--I haven’t eaten all day, we can’t--”

San presses his hand to your chest and pins you back to the bed. “I will get you something. You stay here.”

“Nonsense! Two arms can carry back more--” You push upwards but San only pushes you back again. 

“I told you that you wouldn’t leave my bed for anything and I meant it,” San growls. 

“You…you trust me alone here?” You can’t help but ask.

San’s eyes flit around, suddenly unable to meet your gaze. “It’s fine.”

You send him a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding me? You almost killed me for the same thing months ago!”

“It’s--”

“No!” You shout at him. “You’re not allowed to do this anymore. You can’t keep letting me in and then telling me that there’s a closet that I can’t open. I won’t do this anymore, San.”

San settles onto the side of the bed, his back to you. He turns his head to speak over his shoulder. “I can’t tell you. It’s not that I don’t want to. I can’t. It’ll ruin everything. Be angry all you want. I can’t risk it all.”

And for once, you feel like he’s genuinely telling you the truth. As vague as it was. 

“Is it the curse?” You ask, putting a hand on his shoulder. Which draws your attention to his tattoo that runs the length of his spine. You trace the trail down his skin and his back muscles tense. “What does it all mean? And what does it have to do with me? And what about the ghost?”

San spins around and grabs your hand. “What ghost?”

You smile briefly and then shake your head. “I was delusional. It’s nothing.”

“Stay in my bed. I will bring you food. Then I will devour you some more.” You swear you see an excited smile on his face but San is gone from the room before you can confirm.

True to his word, you remain in San’s room--and his bed--for three whole days. He can only endure you to leave to relieve yourself and even then, he barely lets you take one step into the room before he’s carrying you back to his bed and slotting his body between your legs. 

You’ve lost the sense of where you end and San begins. All you know is the feeling of his hands on your body. You only know the scent of his musk as your face is buried into his muscular shoulder. The taste of his cum is the only flavor you know, no matter how much water you drink. He is the only thing you know, utterly and truly. 

Then, on the fourth day, something miraculous happens.

“San, your plant.” You point a finger to the rose pottery on the singular table by the balcony.

San launches himself out of bed and bounds towards the table. His eyes widen in extreme disbelief and he falls to his knees. 

“You’ve done it,” he whispers.

You crawl towards the foot of the bed, drawing a blanket over your naked body. There is a full rose that has bloomed from the pot. You aren’t certain but you are pretty sure roses don’t grow that quickly. And besides… why was this one black?

“I’ve done nothing but fuck you for the past three days, San. What are you talking about?”

“Get dressed,” San says excitedly. “We have to gather the others.”

“With what clothes, San, you keep ripping them off me,” You grumble. 

San grins and then he’s out the door, hollering for his shadow men.

“What’s got him so… what in the nine hells?” Mingi’s eyebrows are furrowed in utter confusion. “When did that happen?”

San is back with Yeosang on his heels. San has what looks like a dress in one hand, which he throws to the bed. “Mingi, Yeosang, go find Hongjoong and go to the ballroom. Belle, get dressed. Quickly!”

The shadow men are gone upon command and you quickly pull the dress over your head. “Why the ballroom?”

“Because that’s where it all began.” San’s face is pinched with past pain. 

The dress you wear is wonderous canary yellow, one that seems orange and red depending on where the sun hits. “San, what’s going on?”

San pulls you in for a tight hug and you freeze in his embrace, stiff and unsure. “All your questions will be answered. It’s finally happening.”

The five of you stand apace in the ballroom. San encapsulates your head in between his huge hands. Your whole world narrows down to just him, once again. 

“You have accepted me completely. For that, I can only repay you by committing my life to you.”

“San, what--”

“Once upon a time there was a beast who was cruel and handsome. He loved the power he held as a beast,” San murmurs to you.

“You… you were born like this?”

“The beast lived as he pleased. He wooed anyone and anything. He played with their hearts and bodies. And when he was bored of them, he discarded them.”

You knew San was cruel, you had been subject to such cruelty. But the way he was telling this story was making you feel uneasy.

“One day, his lover whom he had passed amongst his subordinates, revealed she was a witch. With her heartbroken, and her body used, she cursed the four men. The men at arms would become shadowmen, never able to touch another human ever again. And the beast…”

San’s eyes are dark and unreadable. They are like pools of water that never end, the deep dark water that never sees the light of day. 

“The beast had a very special curse placed on him. Every generation his soulmate would be born. And every time they were destined to cross paths. But if he was unable to woo her, to truly love her, to let her take his heart in return, then the curse would remain. The beast would never leave his estate. The men at arms would never know another’s touch. And some poor soul would be born over and over again, at the mercy of a beast’s black heart.”

“Are you saying I’m your soulmate? How did you know?”

A slow, crooked smile grows on San’s face. He appears… crazed, like he had been in the library. “Your father brought you to me.”

You deny this immediately. “My father would never!”

“Why do you think the sudden trip to sell his clocks came to be, Belle?”

“My father is scatter brained, San, he does this all the time. All of sudden he’ll decide to sell all his clocks. There’s hardly a pattern.”

“I’ll tell you why your father brought you to me.” San’s grin is stretched from ear to ear. He is maniacal. “You killed your lover. Your father saw your true form. He knew of the myth of the cursed beast. He was bringing you to me when the wolves attacked. The attack triggered your other form. You killed almost everyone and everything. I couldn't save your father. But he made me promise to keep you confined to the estate so you wouldn’t hurt anyone else. And it worked. For a time.”

There’s a small buzzing in your ear and you feel like you’re about to faint.

“See, I’m impatient to see my soulmate’s true form become her permanent form. So I provoked you. Treated you like horse manure on my boot. Ordered the others to do the same. The mirror  that first dinner showed you the truth: that you were a true monster. It’s why I cancelled the dance to woo you. You are not like the other ones. My true soulmate is connected with me. I am a beast. And so are you. ”

You shook your head. “You lie.”

“I…I thought you might risk the curse, might find a way to fuck it up. I let my anger get to me that night I almost killed you. I regretted that. Immensely. No other soulmate transformed before coming to me. You were the first. So, instead of attempting to provoke the beast side of you, I decided to learn who you were. The reading took me by surprise but you seemed to find solace in that room. But you triggered the beast side of me once again. Running away like a little white rabbit that is great prey? Writhing that sweet body of yours against mine as I pinned you to the ground?” San licks his lips lecherously. “You were tempting me.”

“But you still had to fall in love with me, the beast. The walks with your horse were good days for me. You reminded me of what life was like before this curse. The difference was that I wanted that life… with you. I provoked your other form again when I prompted you to choke me. That night you fixed me up? That wasn’t the wolves, my darling, that was you. You in your glorious form, rising from her slumber. We fought and it was grand. You won though. I may have been a little frustrated that you took me. But that’s when I decided that perhaps if I told you just the little of the curse that I could, that perhaps… perhaps everything might swing my way.”

San runs a taloned hand through his hair and completes the motion by curling them around his horn as well. He laughs to himself. “I should have known our bodies becoming one was the final key. What better truth exists than when two bodies join? There are no secrets then.”

“I see I was wrong.”

The ghost from before appears before you. You’ve already guessed it, she was the witch, trapped in her own curse on these lands. 

“Your heart is blacker than San’s. Bravo.”

You feel wetness on your face and you realize that you’re crying. It was like your body knew the truth already. Everything San said fit in place, like clockwork inside the creations your father made. The father you killed. You killed Jongho too. You were a monster. No wonder San was your soulmate. 

The rose that Hongjoong holds bursts and a wave of black passes through everyone and everything in the room. The ghost disappears. The air feels different.

“Yeosang!” Mingi shouts.

The shadowman is losing his shadow. Yeosang lifts his arms and watches in wonder as his clothes appear back on his body. The same happens to Mingi and Hongjoong. With a trembling hand, Mingi reaches out and puts his hand on Hongjoong’s chest. 

“We’re free,” Hongjoong whispers in disbelief. 

San pulls off his fur jacket and looks over his shoulder. The moon phase tattoo is fading as well. He lets the jacket drop to the floor and looks at you expectantly. 

“Wha--?” 

You suddenly scream in pain. Your skull feels like it’s going to split in two. Just as you bring your hands to your face, you gaze in horror as your nails lengthen and sharpen. You reach upwards to your head, already aware of what you’ll find. You choke on a sob when your fingers find horns sprouting from your head.

“There she is, my soulmate,” San announces. 

“I’m a monster,” You repeat to yourself.

Suddenly, everything clicks into place and you feel a new self settle over your shoulders.

“We can never repay you, Belle,” Mingi admits wistfully. “Maybe now--”

Your claw rips Mingi’s face off his skull. It flaps uselessly in your hand and you let it drop to the floor. 

“You’ll be the first to die, you horrible peeping tom,” You promise. 

You punch your hand through Mingi’s stomach, grab his spine and rip it out from his body. Mingi is dead instantly. It’s a pity, he should have suffered longer.

So you don’t make the same mistake with Hongjoong. You cut off Hongjoong’s balls and feed it to him. You make him chew each one and swallow them as he bleeds out. He cries soundlessly to himself and it makes your heart soar.

Yeosang appears mentally broken. Perhaps too much change at once? Either way, you decide to break his limbs inch by inch until he is simply a soggy sack of pebbles. You wish he screamed; you had a feeling you were missing out on the screams. 

And through it all, San stands there, and lets you have your fun. 

You point your finger at your soulmate. “You get in our bed right now. I will fuck you with the blood of my enemies on my skin.”

“What is my punishment, my love?” San appears eager and insane and nothing has appealed to you more in your entire life. 

You wrap your hands around San’s neck, still thick as a tree, but now with your talons and your monstrous strength, he’s a tree that could snap for you. You feel power throughout your body and you know what you’re capable of doing. 

“Your punishment is to know that I’ll be a better monster than you ever could be. You’ll always play second fiddle to me, San. Now and forever.”

“Yes, Love.”

San follows you as you stalk back towards the bedroom you proclaimed as yours like an eager puppy. What you saw in the mirror was the utter truth: you were the beast and San was the beauty.

How ironic.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Gentle on my mind - Chapter 14

Initially set in 1967 when Elvis is filming Clambake. Feeling miserable and trapped after the Colonel banishes Larry and the spiritual texts, Elvis invites Gloria to keep him company through the last five days of filming. Gloria is an aspiring movie editor and more importantly she's a lot of fun. Will she be what Elvis needs to get him out of the depressive funk he's in?

Catch up with the other parts here.

Many thanks to @sissylittlefeather being my beta reader on this one.

A/N: This is the final part. I wanted to write an epilogue but this was so difficult to write I don't think I can. I cried all the way through it and I cried when I edited it too. I am really sorry to have made a story that ends like this, but this is how it is.

Pairing: Elvis x OC - Gloria, a budding film editor.

Word count: 2.7K

TWs: Description of Elvis' failing health, erectile dysfunction, consensual somno, p in v sex, and death. Please prepare yourself for the end of this.

They spend the rest of the week at Graceland enjoying one another’s company. Elvis feels a sense of peace that settles over him like a warm blanket that cold January, and he wishes it could go on forever. Gloria is happy too, finally having time with Elvis and no demands on either of them. She particularly enjoys getting to know Larry, who she thinks of as Elvis’ spiritual hairdresser, talking about all sorts of crazy things. She recognises him as a kindred spirit - maybe not quite on the basis of religion or even belief generally, but as someone who wants the best for Elvis and actively tries to help him. Larry likes Gloria too, especially the effect that she has on Elvis. He’s sure Parker wouldn’t be happy about her if he knew she was here, but then again maybe he wouldn’t mind her, since there seemed to be no way she could be a permanent fixture in Elvis’ life. The days at Graceland are full of reading and talking, singing and playing games in the snow. Gloria is sad when she has to leave but she’s been missing her kids too. It’s the longest she’s spent without them, and the ache in her heart feels almost physical. There are a lot of tears and promises when she leaves, though every time she and Elvis part she worries a little more if there will be a next time. 

***

Gloria keeps her promise about visiting, but it’s hard to find times that work for the kids, Roger and Elvis. They manage twice that year, and it’s wonderful both times. Somehow she manages another visit in early 1976, and then Elvis tells her he’s playing two dates at Cow Palace in November and puts her name on the door. He’d looked tired when she saw him last, and she’s worried about seeing him perform for the first time in four years. She’s still never spoken to him about his health, but she sees the pills and she stays awake a lot when she’s with him, remembering what Jerry had said. Once she finds he’s stopped breathing and has to shake him awake, calling out desperately for help. He comes round, but it scares her. It scares her a lot that they might not have much time left. 

***

Somehow the Cow Palace show is incredible. Elvis is bright and engaged and as she watches him, Gloria feels like she’s falling in love all over again. He’s fired Red and Sonny West, so Jerry is his only remaining body guard now, and it’s easy for him to persuade Jerry that they don’t have to stay in the hotel that night. He arrives to Gloria’s house under cover of darkness and the kids are overwhelmed with joy to see him. 

Once they’re in bed he peels his jumpsuit off his tired body, standing in the middle of Gloria’s bedroom. He’s so exhausted he forgets to be self-conscious, and when she walks in from tucking the kids in she finds him standing there in just the little white pants he had to wear with the suit. His hair is still damp with sweat, and the hair on his chest seems darker and thicker than ever. He turns to look at her, eyes half-closed. 

“I need ta shower, honey.”

Gloria has a little ensuite with just a shower, and she ushers him towards it. It’s obvious he’s too tired for this really, so when he gets in and just stands there under the faucet not moving, she gets in too. It’s a tight squeeze and as she starts to rub soap on his chest she realises she didn’t even take her clothes off. He’s not the only exhausted one. 

“Thanks honey,” he whispers, not questioning what she’s doing or the fact that she’s doing it fully-clothed. 

She rubs soap all over him and then helps him rinse it off. He steps out of the shower, shakily, and she quickly strips off her wet clothes, leaving them there before finding him a towel and wrapping him up in it. He’s still and his eyes are almost closed, so she dries him too, leading him back into the bedroom once she’s dried herself off. 

Elvis lies down with a groan. He’s exhausted. He can’t help but feel that he gave his all at that show, but he knows he has to do it again tomorrow. 

“Can’t keep doin’ this,” he mumbles, as Gloria tucks him in and then gets in next to him. Her hair is wet, so she puts a towel down on her pillow. 

“You need a break,” she whispers. 

“I sure do.”

She leans her head against his chest, her fingers rubbing one of his sideburns. They’re so big now she feels like he’s on his way to growing a beard.

“Remember we used to talk about going to Hawaii?”

He smiles, eyes still closed. “Course. Think about it all the time. Runnin’ away to Hawaii with you and the kids. Livin’ out the rest a my days peacefully in the sun.”

Gloria feels her heart break in two at his words. The rest of my days. 

“Maybe we can go there on vacation? I’m sure I could work something out.”

“That would be wonderful honey… maybe next year…” he starts to trail off, his words slurring as he falls into a deep sleep. 

She stays awake, watching him, staring at his beautiful profile and wondering how she got so lucky and yet so unlucky at the same time. 

***

When Elvis calls her and asks her to run away with him to Hawaii she doesn’t hesitate. Not just because she’s afraid if she says no she might never see him again, but because Roger has lost interest in Corey and Jackie and moved to Nebraska to be with the maid. She’d stuck around for a bit with the baby, but then wanted a clean break from the mess in Frisco and decided to go back to be near her family. Roger had tried to do both, but in the end he told Gloria he was waiving his right to custody in favour of the maid and her little one. His other son. She doesn’t care for herself, but she’s devastated for the kids. Particularly Jackie, who’s such a Daddy’s girl. Corey had never been the same with his dad since that fateful night, and even though he was very small at the time, she feels like he remembers what happened.

The group that arrives in Honolulu is small and tightly knit. Only Larry and Jerry are there from the Mafia, although Charlie promises to arrive in a few days. Pat travels with Gloria and the kids to help out with childcare. She’d agreed to it after her sister had broken down one evening, telling her about her fears around Elvis’ health. When they see him at the resort neither think her fears were unfounded. His face is swollen and so is his belly, and he looks more tired than ever. But he’s joyful, being in Hawaii with Gloria at last. He’s only told Jerry and Larry that this isn’t really a vacation. To everyone else, he’s just having a break before his next tour. To them, he’s going and not coming back. He hates the idea of letting his fans down but he thinks he’ll end up doing it eventually anyway, and at least this way he’s got control over it. He’s set up as many traps as he possibly can for Joe and the Colonel to fall into before they realise what he’s doing and try to drag him back. But he feels old and tired now, even though he’s only 42. He’s lived a full life. It’s time to relax in a place he loves with the people he loves best. 

***

Elvis might be tired, but the sun and sand do revive him, and he spends his days playing with the kids and his nights trying his hardest to give Gloria the most pleasure he can. She tells him she doesn’t need multiple orgasms a night and he should rest, but he doesn’t listen. He hasn't had an erection for over a year now, but he makes up for it with his hands and his mouth. Gloria is only sad that she can’t give him anything back, kissing all over his body and gently sucking his soft dick. 

One night, he’s so caught up in holding and kissing her that he falls asleep without taking his pills and wakes up in a panic in the early hours of the morning. Scrambling around to look for them, he suddenly realises that he’s woken up with something else too. He touches himself but it fades quickly and his heart sinks with disappointment. His hand closes around the pill bottle but he pauses after he shakes them into his hand. Maybe a few more days without them and he’d be able to get hard again. He wants to do that for her, for his Glory. She deserves someone who can satisfy her, one last time. He doesn’t know which ones are causing the problem, so he stops taking them all. It doesn’t help with his pain, or his mood, but three days later he wakes up at 6am with a raging hard-on and remembers what Gloria had said about any time. 

“Glory,” he whispers, shaking her a little, but she’s fast asleep. 

His hand trails down her body until his fingers find her clit. Circling it, he watches her react in her sleep, wriggling and sighing. The pain in his belly is excruciating, but the ache in his dick is more important. And the feeling that this is their last chance to properly be together. Things have been escalating with the Colonel and he’s sure someone will be here soon to try and drag him back to Memphis. His fingers slip inside her pussy as he continues to stimulate her clit with his thumb, feeling her getting wetter as she gets closer to orgasm. When it hits she makes a surprised little noise, her eyes fluttering open and looking up at him. 

“Is it… are you?” She mumbles, confused and euphoric and hopeful all at the same time. 

“He’s awake,” Elvis replies, pulling the covers back to show her his hard, weeping dick. 

Her eyes are full of list staring at first his dick and then his face, thinking about how much she wants him inside her. How much she wants to feel close to him like that again. 

“Fuck. Oh I want you so bad, big boy. Please fuck me.”

He pushes her knees up so her feet come off the bed and positions himself between her legs. Slowly, gradually pushing inside her, watching her face, stopping when he can see it’s hurting her and carrying on when she gently touches his arm. When he’s fully inside he lies on top of her like he did that day on the beach in California, his head buried in her shoulder. He starts to move inside her slowly and her arms wrap around him as she feels tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She knows this is the last time. And not because he’s getting married, or because she is, but for a much more permanent reason this time. She knows he’s dying and she feels like he ran away to Hawaii to do it. She’ll never feel this again and as his movements speed up she can’t stop the tears spilling down her cheeks. 

“N-no. No, Elvis. Slow down. I want… I want to enjoy this. P-please.”

He moves his head to look at her as he forces himself to move slowly. When he sees her crying he knows she knows too. He presses his lips against hers as his tears start to flow. Their tears mingle as he rolls his hips against her, both of them sighing with pleasure even as their hearts break. 

“So tired, baby,” he mumbles against her lips. 

Her hand goes to his cheek. “I know. I know.”

“Haveta… has to end…” he continues, and she feels him speed up. 

Sobs wrack her body as she closes her eyes to feel him better. He comes with a small cry, and then he’s still. Softening inside her as he lies there, panting. She can’t stop weeping, and when he finally moves his head she sees he can’t either. 

“I wish I’d never let you leave that beach!” She cries out, unable to stop herself. 

“I wish I’d never gone. We shoulda run away together then, Glory. I shoulda been braver.”

She throws her arms around him, pulling him against her tightly. “It’s not your fault. Oh fuck. I love you so much. I don’t want you to… can’t you get well?”

She feels him shake his head against her. “Too late, baby. Too late fer all that. Jus’ have to hope the Colonel doesn’t get here first.”

First. Before he dies. Gloria wonders if she’ll ever stop crying. Then she remembers Corey and Jackie. She’ll have to.

***

Pat agrees to take the kids to one of the other islands for a couple of days when Elvis’s condition takes a radical turn for the worse. They say goodbye to him like they’ll see him again soon, and she doesn’t have the heart to tell them this is most likely goodbye for good. She thinks on some level they know, even though he’s trying to act cheerful for them, he’s been in bed for the past few days and can barely get out of it. She called Priscilla and got her to bring Lisa-Marie for a day too, so that his little girl could see her daddy for the last time. Priscilla and Pat get on well and Elvis’ ex-wife decides to go with them to the other island, make a proper vacation out of it. Part of her wants to stay and be with Elvis when he dies, but she sees he has someone else for that. 

She does stay to watch Larry marry them though. He performs a little ceremony whilst they sit in the bed in Elvis’ suite. Gloria helped Elvis dress and he’s in a white suit with a pale blue shirt underneath. She wears white too, and a garland of flowers in her hair. They even have a little cake afterwards, and Gloria throws her garland for Lisa-Marie and Jackie to fight over. Lisa-Marie wins. Any worries the kids might’ve had about Elvis were blown away by the wedding, tiny though it is, and they leave full of joy. Things get worse for Elvis as soon as they’re gone. He’s used up all his energy on staying cheerful for them, and on marrying Gloria. He lies down in the bed and sighs with exhaustion. Not long now. 

Gloria stays by his side for two days and nights, keeping herself awake with coffee and stimulants, watching over him. On the third day she feels herself getting drowsy. 

“I’m just going to take a little nap, big boy.”

His head moves slowly to look at her. She kisses him gently, and is about to pull away when he pushes his tongue into her mouth, his hand somehow making its way to the back of her neck. She savours the kiss, but she’s almost asleep. Her eyes close. 

“I love you, Gloria. You’re the love of my life. I’ve never known anyone like you. You’re my girl.” It takes a tremendous effort for Elvis to get the words out, but he has to say them. His head falls back on the pillow with exhaustion when he finishes. 

“Love you… too… Elvis…” the words slur as she falls into a deep sleep. Part of her brain is telling her she shouldn’t, but she’s been awake for too long and her body takes over. 

He watches her as he feels the life slipping away from his body. 

His Glory. In Hawaii. At last.

Softly, I will leave you softly / For my heart would break if you should wake and see me go / So I leave you softly, long before you miss me / Long before your arms can beg me stay / For one more hour or one more day

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @argangelbornxoxo @presleyhearted @lvrdollep

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

...sighs

looks like i owe my sibling 10 dollars ← betting that the sonic 3 episode would come out

(the following is my live reaction:)

so Costco, eh? and with Meggy, Melony, Mario, and Bob? This will be interesting

as always, you gotta have your conveniently placed "World's Biggest Meat Grinder" there ofc 😌↕️

Bob... PLEASE REPHRASE wtf dude

not in this economy, no (not even eggs are worth it)

new bed? wait what happened to the...oh

"you're not my friends anymore" [*gets war flashbacks*] oh god, there was Mr Puzzles, then Tari, and now Melony got this line

"Ink, they reused old audio before" and yet the pattern is there. Puzzles and Tari feared that they were gonna lose the people they held dear. And if Melony had this as a nightmare, the same can be said. As to why, hmmmm *game theory theme starts playing*

uh anyway here's Melony being cute :)

fun fact for the day: NEVER LEAVE MARIO AND BOB UNSUPERVISED

can we get them in those kid backpacks with leashes?

Meggy, what are you talking about? We HAVE to get the racecar bed!!

also Meggy don't say that word, the fandom's already going insane over the steam and flareglow mystery as it is ← says a theorist who has already gone crazy

y'know I should've suspected a racecar bed to be an actual car (I was close tho)

never thought we would get this Mario and Bob dynamic again and y'know what? I'm all for it! It's a nice different flavor of chaos I could get used to

It IS important, it's to see the mattress's durability and stiffness bc back pain is just awful (there goes your spine). plus, we aren't getting one that was found by the dumpster

can we get a pillow fight in an episode? SLEEPOVER EPISODE?

things would've been worse if we were in IKEA, Meggy

oh... we got Leggy again...

well, a new thing is that she can change at will. BUT I think it kinda defeats the purpose of Leggy "off to a better place" back at WOTFI 2024. I think it could've been done better at a different episode when her past trauma overwhelms her and turns into Leggy, even more if Mr Puzzles escapes and finds her. I know for a fact that no one has gotten therapy and Meggy did say in the New Year's Special that those were traumatic memories.

Basically what I'm saying is: Meggy thinks her trauma (as well as everyone else's) is past them bc Mr Puzzles is in solitary confinement when it's really not, and THAT will eventually reach a certain limit ← this could've been executed better if Leggy wasn't in this episode and let Puzzles marinate some more, hopefully that makes sense

also Leggy's screams kinda give me sensory issues but that's me thing ANYWAY BACK TO THE EPISODE

ofc if you find the perfect bed, you're already dead asleep :)

THERE'S THAT LINE AGAIN, I'm telling you it's foreshadowing

AND AGAIN AUGH

love the Danny Phantom theme add-in

...WAIT NONONO YOU CAN'T JUST LET IT PASS BY WITHOUT ME NOTICING THE SAME BED USED IN WESTERN SPAGHETTI

"...Ink" Just let me me have my moment of exaggeration, I'll come back to sanity in a second

hey, i'm just living proof that a theorist brain can go haywire at the smallest things

"I work everywhere" Shroomy 🤝 Karen

FLASHBACK TIME YESSSS

...oh....can we talk about this for a second?

The fact that Melony's past has been recontextualized again and again, it somehow makes sense. Well, kinda.

All of Melony's memories are through HER point of view. We can take the conversation between her mom and dad as true but we might not know how far this problem is.

Hear me out: in the role of a child, you would view your parents as friends (depending on how much you see them caring for one another) since the concept of romantic relationships/marriage is a bit more complex to know at that age. It's why Melony interprets her mom leaving them as the friendship ending between them, "you aren't my friend anymore". Again, Melony was pretty young when it happened but it truly stuck with her, and this mentality of "friendship ending = losing them forever" as she had it with Axol Jr. in that nightmare (the closest thing to Axol when she lost him) and then to her friends.

Now, I'm not sure if I should include the memory trip from Revelations (bc of her not remembering having a family at all) but regardless, I think Melony blames herself for her parents separating in the first place. It's normal for children in a scenario like this to believe they are the cause. As said in Revelations, Melony thought she was a "bad daughter". And in the nightmares she had, SHE believes to the cause of losing those friendships as well.

There is still that gap of time between her growing up to when she debuted on the show so the question is: did she leave her dad behind bc of the past guilt she had? And perhaps had even more guilt afterward to leave her dad by himself after everything?

The image of a perfect family in Revelations and her being the "bad daughter that has forgotten about her family", it's pretty sad to think about, and no doubt I feel bad for her :(

EVERYONE NEEDS THERAPY STAT

Mario being the voice of reason, we love to see it

guys, it's not a baby smh /silly

oh good Melony's okay... right?

and the episode ends, we got a bed at least :D y'know, it's just another Saturday

Congrats to alex-dolmatescu2-0 (here on Tumblr) for your art being featured at the end credits! 🎉

we're just not going to think about the implications as to why the Team decided to pick it for this episode, still great fanart tho :)

also this,

i think it was an editing mistake lol (...or IS IT? jkjk)

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Well, chat, this is a good episode. I wouldn't say that it was a life-changing, plot-driven episode but it was okay.

Ofc I did love the Mario and Bob dynamic and some depth on Melony. There were definitely things, like the Leggy part, that could've been executed better/be placed in a better episode.

The year has started so I don't expect much to be absolutely perfect from the Team, they're trying. I still enjoyed it, don't get me wrong.

Then there's stuff whacking at my theorist brain but we don't need to talk about that.

And apparently, we got a new member on the Team, Max Sturz (also known as WizardzWiz)!

They're the writer and storyboard artist for the SMG4 show so hello, welcome! Very excited to see what they're gonna be working on in the future!

(so for future reference, I'm gonna call them Wiz)

That's all from me. I'm just gonna be in my little tent until SOMEBODY responds to the steam + flareglow mystery. Remember: numbers always go first, and I'll see you guys on the next one!

[writingdevil]

Hello! I see that you are open to requests for STP and I was wondering if you are able to write something regarding Cold and Smitten? It can be a ship or just plain platonic

Thank you very much!

(AH!Of course!The iconic duo with the most homoerotic tension I've ever seen!Enjoy!)

Cold was quite fond of surprises.

They were something unexpected,something that Cold,or someone else,couldn't predict.It caught people off guard,including him,from time to time, and the unforseen actions led way for some very fun times.

Right now was a particularly nice surprise.

One second,he's chatting away with some of the others-Hero,Skeptic,Cheated-until the next second,he felt claws being buried into his arm as he was dragged away,staring at the shrinking face of an exasperated Skeptic,until he found himself in the kitchen.

Cold had no idea what was happening,not until his body was suddenly being shoved against the door, and he found himself staring down at the livid face of Smitten.

If Cold was associated with ice,then Smitten was pure,fiery passion-a blazing fire of hatred in his eyes as he glared up at him,looking seconds away from tearing Cold's throat out.Would he do it?How long would it take for him to regret it?

Smitten's usually beautiful face was twisted into an ugly grimace as he snarled,"How dare you."

Cold merely lifted his brows in question,which only seemed to piss Smitten off more,judging by the claws digging further into his skin.He felt the little beads of blood dripping down his arm,hearing them hit the floor,but neither he nor Smitten looked down.They only stared at each other.

"How dare I what?"Cold casually asked,and Smitten bared his teeth as he spat out,"How dare you say such things about the princess!Our one true love!"

Cold rolled his eyes."Oh,this again?"He thought that he had found a new way to make Smitten tick,but it was just the same old thing with that lovebird.

He didn't even care enough to remember what he said-all he he was that the four of them were reminiscing on the past,particularly on the princess and whether they missed her or not.He obviously must've made some not-absolutely-head-over-heels comment that sparked Smitten's ire,and now here they were,and Cold was disappointed at how sensitive and predictable Smitten was being.

Smitten finally let go of his arm,his hand slicing through the air angrily as he snapped,"Yes!I am sick of having to defend our beloved princess from your icy and vicious words!"

Cold tried to push himself off the wall,to walk forward and intimate Smitten into stepping back with his height,but he only managed to lean his body forward before Smitten forcefully shoved him back.Pain exploded against the back of his skull from the impact.It made his ears ring and his eyes tear up for a second.When he could focus again,he watched as Smitten held no regret or guilt in his shiny eyes.Huh.

Cold shrugged as if that hadn't of affected him at all."I don't understand what's not getting through to you,what with all that space in your head being taken up with nothing but air."Cold had the pleasure of seeing Smitten's expression darken even further,so he kept going,"Your loud and passionate love for the princess is useless,and caring about her when she's not even here,even more so."

Smitten's eyes widened in shock,and he leaned in closer as he started to say,"How could you-"

"-I'm bored of talking about princesses,"Cold interrupted,using that moment to push Smitten back enough for him to actually walk away and have some personal space again.He sighed,before he realised that his feathers were relaxing now that he wasn't up close to Smitten's fire.

A part of him missed it.

He quickly flicked that annoying little thought away, but still turned to stare at Smitten in the eye as he said,"I want to talk about you."

"Oh,what could you possibly have to say about me,I wonder?"Smitten asked sarcastically,and Cold was honestly surprised that the other was capable of making such a toxic voice.He liked it.

"Yes,well,I just find it a little unusual-that someone so committed to their love,would stoop so low as to eavesdropping."

There was a flicker of shock and worry in Smitten's eyes,arms falling to his side as he stuttered out,"I-I wasn't-"

"I have to admit,eavesdropping,along with attacking people who speak ill of your love,doesn't make for a very-kind partner."

"What do you know about kindness?"Smitten asked bitterly,"What kind of lover wouldn't rush to defend their beloved from such harsh words?"

"Even when they're not here?"Cold taunted,"Even when she was just a part of a larger Goddess?"He tilted his head to the side as he noticed the way Smitten's fists clenched.

Smitten's voice was dangerously low and calm as he replied,"My love for her is stronger than time and distance.You will never be able to change that."

Cold shrugged."Unfortunately,you're right on that. But I just find it interesting-"and then he had the pleasure of seeing a flash of fear on Smitten's face, because he knew that if he has done something to interest Cold,then it definitely didn't mean anything good for him.

"-that you can call yourself such a devoted and perfect partner,when the only time you've decided to showcase that,is by eavesdropping on a conversation you weren't a part of and threatening someone.What a scary partner you must be."

Cold felt a satisfied smirk being pulled across his face,and he felt excitement course through him at the fiery rage he had reignited within Smitten.He wasn't sure what it was,but there was something about watching a person go from being sickenly sweet to sharply sour,and to know that his presence was the cause of it.

Smitten exploded upon him."You know nothing of me,villain!You have no idea the lengths to which I'd go for the love of my life!"

"I think I do know,"Cold replied,and Smitten took a step towards him,making his breath hitch."I know how you let your little feelings possess you,until you're practically obsessed-like how you are with me."

Smitten froze,stammering on the spot while his feathers puffed up,almost covering his chin completely."W-Why would I be obsessed with you?" Smitten said incredulously,a chuckle of nervous disbelief at the end of his words."We have nothing in common.You're only goal is to freeze and hurt others for your own sick amusement."

"Oh?"Cold said innocently,tilting his head to the side."Is that so?Then what do you call this?"and then he lifted up his bloody arm with the holes Smitten had poked into him.

The blood had trailed all the way down his forearm now,and the limb was trembling slightly in a way that wasn't from the usual lack of heat his body didn't make.

Smitten stared at him,aghast at the evidence of his own violence,and Cold grinned wickedly at him and taunted,"What kind of sweet and loving partner would do this to someone?"Smitten's face was filled with horror,before Cold blinked,and he was suddenly being shoved again.

He grunted as he hit another wall,but also because, instead of his arm being gripped,it was his throat. He gasped as Smitten pinned his neck to a wall, squeezing dangerously tight,and Cold felt his head spin in pleasure.

He managed to look down at Smitten,who's face was eerily calm,except for the intense heat of hatred in his eyes.Cold couldn't help but look down at his other hand,the one with still wet blood on his claws.

Smitten squeezed once in warning."Do not make me do something I will regret."

But Cold did want to see it.He wanted to reach in and claw at Smitten's core,until he uncovered all the dark and rotten parts of him that he hid with poetic words and soft hugs.Cold wanted to be the one to shove all of it in Smitten's face,to show his burning fire for the world to see,how dangerous he actually was,and Cold wanted to see how Smitten would react to him.

Cold wanted to be the one that brought this out of Smitten.

So he reached up and almost lovingly caressed the hand around his throat."Do it,"he forced out,never breaking eye contact with Smitten.

Smitten glared,before his grip tightened.

[anadrym]

Extended Author's Notes for Left Behind Ch4.

Spoilers!

"I'm not making any decisions right now." Caitlyn, you're such a fucking liar. I love you so much.

Caitlyn really needs to get some better coping methods. I'm of the idea that she never properly learned how to grieve - when she lost her mom, she was immediately manipulated into turning her grief into a weapon to be wielded against someone else's enemies. And she didn't really lose anyone else until the Purge. So she's running on the only thing she knows: turn the grief into anger and use it to protect yourself from more grief. In this case, it actually does keep her alive. But that doesn't mean it's healthy.

"She hasn't changed that much; she probably won't have a lot of time before someone recognizes the missing Sheriff Kiramman." - This is pretty much the main reason I didn't go back through and account for Caitlyn's lost eye. It would make her so incredibly recognizable. That's me being lazy.

Caitlyn's outfit as Ghost is actually several asymmetrical layers of varying shades of grey. I think black would actually be too obvious, even at night, and the uneven layers help break up the human form to keep her harder to see.

Caitlyn doesn't take anything from her apartment. She doesn't have anything TO take. :(

I know I said this last chapter, but I LOVE writing Caitlyn and Petra's conversations. They're so fun.

Hmm... Why does Petra know a guy who smuggles things around Runeterra? Will this be a little important later? Who's to say? ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Okay, everyone say "Bye, Petra!" Maybe we'll see her again later. (We will.)

Vi, my beloved. She just won't give up. I think that, even now, she's a little too selfless to let go. She doesn't want to live like this, but she won't let herself die on the chance that she might be leaving someone behind. I'm love her. so. much.

This team that Vi and her handler are working with are kinda inspired by a D&D party. A group of strange individuals who bounce around, working for whoever will pay them. They work for the Baroness sometimes. They also work for other Chem-Barons and gang leaders and the like.

The Feline Woman (and all of her companions) are just OCs. They're not based on any other characters. They're pretty much just one-off characters, but I DID decide to bring the Feline Woman back briefly later.

Both of our girls have trauma around fire, for obvious reasons. Interestingly, I ended up using fire and references to it so much that it kinda became a motif in this story.

The neighbors not intervening in any way is to show just how much control the Chen-Barons and gangs have over the common people. The fear of being the next example keeps them from helping, which keeps them divided.

I killed Tobias and I am going to take every opportunity to painfully remind everyone of that.

The kid that Vi is forced to kill here was probably about ten or eleven when the Purge happened. He doesn't recognize Vi. But anyone who happened to look outside during any of this attack might have - she was the Sheriff's partner, a rather public figure, and definitely recognizable. And that's the whole point.

Could Vi have ended the boy's suffering in one hit? If she was at full strength, sure. Easily, if she hit him in the right place. But they're not keeping her at full strength, because they don't want to risk it AND because they don't need to. She's serving her purpose perfectly as is.

Teaser for next week:

Ghost presses herself flatter to the rooftop. Her clothes are dark and the muzzle of her rifle is matte to prevent it from gleaming; they won't be able to see her. As they look for her, she sweeps her gaze over their group, counting them.

...two, three, four --

She sees a flash of familiar pink, and every fragment of her being goes absolutely still.

[writingtraumaforever]

Uncontrolled Chaos: Chapter 39

Notes: I'm baaaack! I had a LOVELY vacation! Tons of fun! All up until the very last day when I got a severe sinus infection and then had to fly home with it and- NEVER fly with a sinus infection, people! It is apparently very dangerous. I had no idea. Long story short, my ears no longer are working properly, I have enough snot to fill an olympic swimming pool, and I am in a constant state of dizziness and am basically drunk. SO. Be patient with me. But I didn't want to keep you all waiting any longer than I already have. So enjoy the chapter and hopefully it makes sense despite being typed in my very drunken state of mind. If not, I'll just fix it later. Smh.

Summary: Shadow and Sonic discuss insecurities.. The Black Arms Invasion is discussed.

UC Masterpost!

Link to MY AO3!

Start:

Shadow has no idea how the heck he got here.

Everything had been going relatively well. This world’s version of Rose turned up with the green chaos emerald she had found while visiting a friend on Seaside Island which had brought them to a solid five emeralds, only in need of two more which isn’t half bad for only being at this for a couple of days.

Not to mention that Amy brought a sense of comfort and familiarity Shadow hasn’t really gotten here thus far. 

Rouge had been nice to see and have around, yes, but this version of Rouge was more standoffish with him. Wouldn’t have much to do with him— which he’s never admit bothered him as much as it actually did.

However, Amy Rose?? She was consistent in both worlds, it seems. A friendly face with a loving heart that was open to Shadow despite him being a bit more grouchy than her typical Shadow.

She had approached him immediately, hugging him and assuring him that they’d get him back home soon.

‘Oh, you poor thing! I can’t imagine how overwhelming all of this must be for you. We’ll have no fear, Amy Rose is here! And I’m here to make sure your time here is as relaxed as it possibly can be! Care for some tea to help calm your nerve??’

She was a godsend, really.

And he did in fact very much appreciate her tea. It definitely was a lot more soothing for him than the infinite amount of coffee he’s been digesting. He was starting to get jittery.

They were just sitting down to properly enjoy their tea and chat with one another about the differences of their worlds when the echidna had come running inside announcing they’d made contact with his own world.

And well.. that went to shit real quick.

It was nice at first. Wholesome. And Shadow would never admit it aloud, but he really did feel better seeing Sonic look so happy. So relieved. All wagging tail and grinning mouth and teary eyes. He was the epitome of joyous at his verbal reunion with his partner. And despite feeling a bit odd hearing his own voice speaking so softly towards the blue hedgehog, it was.. good. 

Sonic needed this..

Speaking of Sonic, his own had piped up at one point and..

It did odd things to Shadow’s stomach.

‘How’s our Shadow??’ he had asked. And while he’s been hearing that obnoxious voice plenty the past several days thanks to being close and personal with this world’s Sonic, there was something about knowing it was his world’s Sonic asking how he was doing that made it.. different.

He had spoken up, being even more thrown off by how ecstatic his own Sonic had sounded hearing from him. How relieved. He hadn’t been expecting it..

They quickly return to their typical banter, trading a few one-liners about Shadow being a grouch and Sonic being an idiot. Typical. Familiar.

He can’t help but smile to himself..

And that’s when the shit hit the fan.

Turns out Alternate Shadow hasn’t informed the team back in normal Shadow’s world about his and Alternate Sonic’s relationship.

Specifically, he hasn’t informed Sonic.

Sonic sounded shocked to say the least.

Shadow stayed quiet through most of it, arms crossed with a small frown on his muzzle as he watches this world’s Sonic become more and more worked up. His blue quills rising defensively, tail no longer wagging and instead pointing in agitation while his ears are folded back in disappointment.

All signs of a not-so-happy hedgehog.

Which makes for a not-so-happy conversation.

“You know what??? Whatever. None of this is essential anyway, so I’m just gonna go do essential things. Here’s Tails.”

Then Sonic was shoving the mic away from himself and standing from the chair with a huff, Shadow frowning and furrowing his brows at the actions that he himself deemed a bit dramatic. Especially when Sonic had been showing so much maturity and wisdom when preaching at him in the kitchen earlier about Shadow running from his identity crisis.

Talk about insecurities. The hedgehog was a hypocrite.

“Sonic-!” Amy called to try and calm him down only for him to tear out of the garage with a sonic boom in his wake and a streak of blue behind.

Amy frowns with a sigh, hugging her arms around herself as she looks in the direction he disappeared off into.

Tails takes over talking to the other world’s group, Shadow turning to face Knuckles with a glare.

“Did you have to tease him about his partner potentially cheating on him??”

“You what?!” Amy gasps, her empathy turning to fury and being directed at the red echidna now.

Knuckles holds his hands up in surrender, eyes wide as he backs away from Amy who looks on the verge of summoning her hammer.

“Wait wait wait—! I was just joking! Come on! How was I suppose to know he’d take it so seriously???”

“You know how he takes everything to heart even if he pretends not to!” Amy growls, her hands moving to her hips as she backs Knuckles into a corner. Rouge sits perched on the nose of the Tornado looking amused by this entire thing.

Shadow just sighs and rubs his fingers into his temples, closing his eyes a moment as the team continues their bickering..

Sonic will be back.

He just needs time to cool off. Think rationally.

His emotions are high right now for a variety of reasons. He simply needs some space..

He expects him to be back within an hour realizing how stupid he was being and how childish. 

But sunset came and went, and there was still no sign of the blue hedgehog late into the night.

So Shadow takes matters into his own hands.

“I’m gonna go after him,” he announces, standing from his seat on the couch and moving towards the door. It’s ridiculous how much of an effect this idiot has on him no matter what world he’s in. Always cleaning up the fool’s messes.

“Uhh- is that the best idea???” Amy asks with knitted brows, rising from her own chair now. They had both been sitting in the living room waiting up for Sonic. She’s dressed in pajamas— a red tank top and white fuzzy shorts with her socks and gloves still on. Her red headband replaced by a red scrunchie holding her hair up in a loose bun. 

Knuckles and Rouge turned in for some sleep— heading out earlier to search for the last two emeralds. Tails is still in the workshop fidgeting with the radio, but Shadow saw him nodding off before he left him be, so he imagines he’ll be turning in soon— if he hasn’t already fallen asleep at his workbench.

“Why wouldn’t it be??”

“Well,” she rubs the back of her neck, “Because he’s gone because he’s upset at his Shadow.. so maybe seeing you will make him emotional again?”

“He’s not upset at his Shadow, he’s upset because he acted foolishly, and I’m sure he realizes that. He’s likely embarrassed.”

“You’re probably right,” she sighs, “But this still isn’t your world.. I don’t think you should be running around alone out there—“

“I can take care of myself, Rose,” Shadow assures with a tiny hint of a smile her direction, Amy seeming to visibly relax at this reassurance, “If I’m not back before sunrise, you can wake the others and come looking. But I’ll be back before two hours, tops.”

She seems hesitant still. Unsure. But after giving it some thought, she gives in and nods with a little frown, “Okay.. but please be careful. And please go easy on him.”

“No promises,” he huffs, turning and walking out the door.

And he knows just where to look.

———

Crawling into the tree he had been to only a few days ago, Shadow can’t help but wonder what he’s about to stumble upon. He’s fairly confident the blue hedgehog will be here since this was introduced as one of his comfort spots, and despite how he may have acted earlier, he knows he’s missing his partner. He just wonders if he’ll find him angry. Or sad. Shadow rather him be angry, honestly. He could deal with angry. He didn’t know how to deal with Sonic being sad.. And frankly, neither did Sonic.

Ducking through the narrow passageway under the ground and through the siding of the mountain, he reaches the hole at the end in the roof of the cave. The vine used to climb up isn’t there, being lifted as a sign of not wanting to be bothered. 

Lucky for Shadow, he has air shoes.

Kicking them in hover-mode, he allows the fumes to slowly lift him off the ground and up through the hole. Peeking out, he finds Sonic there a few feet away sitting amongst the greenery with his knees hugged to his chest..

Shadow sighs through his nose, turning his air shoes off to land on the edge of the hole and slowly step towards him.

He doesn’t speak. Neither does Sonic.

Walking forward until he’s at the hedgehog’s side, he crouches down to sit; once again careful not to smoosh any flowers if he can help it. Sonic doesn’t react, only pulls his legs tighter against himself and buries his mouth into his knees.. Long nose peeking out over them. Shadow’s lips purse, crimson eyes watching the blue hedgehog that just stares ahead at nothing in particular. He can see how fast the hero’s mind is travelling. How despite his current stillness, his head hasn’t stopped moving. 

Shadow knows that feeling all too well.

He sighs from his nose, looking ahead as well to simply take in the moonlit view along with Sonic. Quiet.

They stay like this a long moment.

Shadow just being there with Sonic, so he doesn’t have to be alone..

But he promised Rose two hours. So they can’t stay here all night.

“...You’re an idiot, you know that, right?”

Sonic huffs, chuckling with a small headshake though there’s no amusement in the laugh. More of a scoff than anything.

“You’ve only reminded me of that every chance you’ve gotten since being here.” “Well, don’t do idiotic things, and I wouldn’t have a reason to remind you.”

“What do you want??”

Sonic’s tone is sharp. Trying to give off hostility, but Shadow sees right through it. He hears the ache.. The need for comfort.

“..I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, I’m fine. So you can go now.” “You have everyone worried.. Especially Rose.” “She’ll be fine. She knows I’ve been through way worse.” “Perhaps that’s why she’s so worried.” Sonic frowns at that, glancing at Shadow out of the corner of his eyes before moving to rest his chin on his knees rather than having it hidden behind his thighs.

“...Don’t act like you know anything any of us have been through.”

“I don’t claim to,” Shadow shakes his head, knowing this is just Sonic trying to avert from the real problem. Him. “But I know what worrying for a friend is like.. And it’s no picnic.”

“Yeah, well then maybe you should go back and let her know I’m fine.” “I don’t intend on returning without you.” Sonic huffs at that, seeming frustrated by Shadow’s persistence but not surprised by it.

“Can’t I just pout in peace?” “So you admit you’re pouting?” Shadow’s brow quirks, head turning to look at Sonic now with a small tilt.

“Yeah, well, I have plenty of reason to be upset,” Sonic remarks defensively, lifting his chin from his knees and turning to glare at Shadow.

“Oh please, Hedgehog, I think we both know you were being a bit dramatic. Your Shadow wouldn’t–” “As if you would know anything about our relationship- about any relationship,” Sonic snaps, brows furrowed and jaw locked.

Every instinct in Shadow screams to match his energy. Give him the same hostility he’s receiving. But he knows that won’t help anything.. So after a long moment of the two just glaring at one another in a challenging sort of way.. Shadow takes a deep breath in and exhales it out slowly.

“You’re right. I don’t know what your relationship consists of. Nor do I know your whole history together or what you’ve been through… But I know myself. And while I am quite different than your version of me, I would like to believe we’re alike enough that I can confidently say I would never even dream of hurting someone I love like that..”

Sonic frowns at this, his scold melting into something a bit more achy and pained.. Green eyes drift away as he looks down at his shoes in thought.

“..I have never been in a relationship. But this-.. It’s not because I don’t recognize what goes into them,” Shadow explains quietly, voice calm and gentle, “I know it takes hard work.. And understanding and communication.. And plenty of patience. I also know it takes loyalty. An undeniable and unquestioning amount of it.”

Sonic’s ears flatten against his head as he listens, arms tightening around his knees as if seeking comfort from them. Like he wants to curl up and hide away in a little ball.

“..I never considered a relationship not because I’m incapable of it.., but simply because I… I feel undeserving of one,” Shadow admits honestly, “I don’t want to drag anyone into my hellhole of a mess. Don’t want to have someone have to deal with my past and try to make a future out of it when I myself struggle to most of the time.” Sonic’s eyes lift to look at Shadow, greens becoming misty as if he wants to disagree and tell him that he shouldn’t think such things but simply doesn’t have the energy to do so right now.

Shadow continues before he can anyway, “So I know how serious relationships are.. I know those who can manage them are admirable.. And I know that if I ever found someone I trusted enough to let in and begin one with?? The thought of even looking anyone else’s way wouldn’t even cross my mind.”

Sonic lets out a shaky little whine at that, hand lifting to press the heel of his palm to his eye and rub there. Trying not to cry. 

He knew Shadow was right. They may not be the same, but both Shadows were certainly alike in many, many ways. There seems to be traits that simply carry through all worlds and dimensions. Shadow’s being his resilience and determination, his patience, his wisdom, his strength, his honesty… and certainly his loyalty.

Because loyal is one of the top words that come to mind when asked to describe Shadow the Hedgehog..

“Damnit..,” Sonic sniffles out, “I was so stupid..” “Yes,” Shadow nods agreeingly, “But I’m sure the other me won’t hold it against you. It’s not as if it’s your first time.” Sonic gives a breathy chuckle at that, dropping his hand from his face to roll his eyes and give Shadow a sad and teary smile. “Yeah, that’s true..” Shadow offers his own tiny smile in response, brows knitting slightly as he slowly reaches a palm out to pat Sonic’s back. It’s a bit awkward, but he’s trying.

“But why wouldn’t he tell your Sonic about us??” Sonic asks with a small sniffle, rubbing his gloved wrist across the underside of his nose. “Well, there’s a lot of possible answers to that,” Shadow sighs, leaning back on his own hands now as he looks up at the starry sky, “My Sonic is an idiot just like you, you see. So having a bombshell like ‘an alternate version of you and your rival are madly in love in another universe’ dropped on him would likely elicit some pretty extreme reactions.” Sonic hums at that, head tilting in thought as he ponders this a moment, “..So you’re saying the alternate me is probably giving him hell right now?” “Oh, absolutely.” “That makes me feel a little better,” Sonic chuckles again, wiping the last of his building tears from his eyes and sighing with a quiet groan, “I’m so embarrassed– He’s probably pissed at me for ruining our first talk since this whole mess started. I mean– how petty was that?? I haven’t heard from my boyfriend in over a week because he’s trapped in an alternate dimension. We’re all potentially gonna die. And instead of taking any time left given to talk to him, I throw a fit over the idea of him cheating on me. And with another version of me, at that!” Shadow hums a chuckle with a shrug, “Pretty petty.” “So petty,” Sonic groans and rubs his hands down his face in frustration with himself before throwing them into the air and falling backwards onto his back dramatically.

Shadow smirks a bit, watching the blue hedgehog laying there beside him dealing with the dumb mistake he’s made..

“..Perhaps it’s more than the secrecy of your relationship in the other world that’s bothering you..” Sonic purses his lips at that, brows furrowing in thought as he looks back down to his shoes.

“..What if-.. What if he doesn’t like me as much as that other version?..”

Shadow sighs at this, opening his mouth to reiterate his alternate’s undying loyalty only for Sonic to stop him.

“No, no, just– hear me out.. He would never cheat on me, you’re right. He’s much too loyal for something like that. But he-.. He could develop feelings? Maybe your Sonic is a better match for him. Maybe he talks to me again and finds that he enjoys talking to your Sonic far more. Maybe he-..” Sonic’s voice cuts short, cracking as the blue hedgehog feels himself getting worked up again. He pauses to take a deep breath before sighing out, “Maybe he doesn’t want to come home..”

Shadow frowns at this, watching how Sonic’s glossy eyes stare at the stars in the sky above them.. the half blown up moon that’s shards still linger here and there. Littered in the black abyss of space.

He knows he’s wondering if the alternate Shadow is looking at that moon too.. 

After a moment, Shadow sighs and lays himself down beside Sonic. His hands crossed over his stomach as the flowers tower and loom around him. Framing the two of them in their spot. He knows he’s gonna be picking petals out of his quills for days after this— ugh.

His own eyes raise to the sky then.. looking at that moon..

And maybe-… maybe his Sonic is looking at it right now, too… or an alternate version of it, at least.

He finds himself wondering if Sonic thinks of him when he looks at the moon the way Shadow thinks of Sonic.. he wonders if he regrets that day during the ARK battle.. how he couldn’t save Shadow.

He wonders if it ever even crosses his Sonic’s mind the way it lingered so heavily on this one’s..

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Shadow says simply after a long moment of silence, his voice almost sad. Melancholic. Longing..

Sonic’s head turns, Shadow can feel his gaze on his profile.

“How could you know that?..”

“Because my Sonic—“ Shadow sighs, catching himself as he shakes his head and corrects, “the Sonic from my world.. He doesn’t feel the way you do. About me.”

Sonic is quiet at that. His head turning back to the sky. Shadow sighs through his nose, finding himself really thinking about this fact for the first time ever. He never really allowed himself to before.. to wonder why Sonic didn’t look for him after the fall. To contemplate that Sonic may just have thought the world was simply better off without him.

While Shadow has the thoughts quite often about himself, for whatever reason the idea of Sonic having them felt… devastating.

Before all this mess, he simply believed that Sonic thought him dead and that was that. Never looked too much into it. But now?.. Now he wondered.. what made Sonic give up on him so quickly.

It was a selfish thing to think, he knows. And it was silly to care. But deep down despite his dismay for even being associated with the blue idiot at times, he always admired him. Respected him. Held him at a higher regard than anyone else. He truly did want Sonic’s approval, his nod of confirmation, his respect and positive attention. The times Shadow has managed to truly disappoint Sonic have been few but every single one have lingered for a long, long time. Never left him. Always haunted him.

Sonic was good.

He wanted to be good in Sonic’s eyes..

He’d never admit such a thing, he’d die before doing so..

But it was a secret truth he carried deep inside himself.

“My Shadow almost killed me.”

Shadow blinks at that, knocked from his train of thought as though he had been going a million miles an hour and suddenly was at zero. 

He certainly wasn’t expecting that.

“I-..”

“Sorry, that was-,“ Sonic sighs and rolls his eyes at himself, realizing his error, “That was a bit heavy and sudden, huh?? I meant that.. I know what you’re thinking. That you.. went too far. That you’re too bad. That your Sonic doesn’t look at you the way I look at my Shadow because you’re just too bad, right??..”

Shadow blinks, head turning to look at Sonic now and their eyes meeting again. He hesitates. Then nods slowly..

Sonic smirks slightly then looks back to the sky, “Yeah. Figures. My Shadow is always way too hard on himself, too.. But what I was sayin’ was.. From what you’ve told me, your life has honestly been kinda mellow compared to my Shadow’s in terms of bad choices.”

“‘Mellow’?” Shadow scoffs, rolling his eyes and looking back to the stars, “I’m afraid my bad choices are vast. You underestimate—“

“My Shadow teamed with Doom during the Black Arms Invasion,” Sonic interrupts again, once again rendering Shadow speechless for a long moment.

Shadow.. doesn’t know what to say to that. Or how to even comprehend it. How could-… how could a Shadow that was found and surrounded by so many people who loved and took care of him ever team with Doom?

“..What happened?”

“It’s.. a long story. A lot of shit happened in the details, and I’ll skip all that for the sake of.. I don’t know. Making it easier on me to talk about,” Sonic chuckles awkwardly, Shadow’s brows knitting at that.

“We don’t have to—“

“No, no. I-.. I want to,” the hero clarifies with a little shrug, his eyes staying on the sky since it’s too hard to look at Shadow in that moment.. 

“..So from what you’ve said, you pretty much sided with us through the Black Arms Invasion?” “More or less..” “Heh, well… my Shadow? He.. he did at first, of course. It wasn’t a few weeks after we found him like it was for you, though. I think we found him sooner after the ARK Battle than the Rouge in your world found your Shadow is why. I spent only a month searching for Shadow before I found him, and then we had four together before Metal Sonic started kicking up his trouble.. The Black Arms invasion came a few weeks after that.” This was certainly different to Shadow’s own timeline where he was awoken five months after the ARK Battle during the Metal Sonic fiasco. The Black Arms was two weeks after, and he wasn’t emotionally connected to anyone at that point. Just lost and confused.. Easily manipulated and searching desperately for his place in this world.

“Black Doom took to Shadow like a parasite. He had him in his head, manipulating and moving his memories around to his liking, making Shadow believe things that never happened and see things that hadn’t yet happened. He didn’t tell anyone. He hid it, not wanting any of us to worry or be scared of him while his own fear of himself just kept growing and growing.. I didn’t even know until it was too late..”

Shadow can hear the guilt in Sonic’s voice. How he blamed himself for not seeing it sooner, for not knowing what was happening before Black Doom’s claws had been so neatly fitted around his Shadow’s neck..

This seemed to be an ongoing trend for them: blaming themselves for the others’ misfortunes.

“And by then Black Doom had Shadow… exactly where he wanted him,” Sonic sighs quietly, his brows furrowing as he remembers it all.. Flashes of the large almost ethereal monster Shadow had become. Dark tentacles, looming wings, sharp and long teeth and claws, so many glowing red eyes staring him down with piercing yellow pupils. How he wasn’t at all himself. How he was lost to something more sinister. Possessed by a higher power.. An heir to an end.

Sonic feels the lump in his throat throb when he swallows, his eyes growing more and more misty again. And he doesn’t want to cry anymore, so he simply takes a deep breath and shuts them as he sighs it out.

“In the end, everything turned out okay. We got him back. That’s what’s important.” It’s obvious that Sonic isn’t going to go anymore into it. Not yet, anyway. Not right now. Shadow doesn’t push it..

Instead, he reaches a hand over slowly and lets the backs of his fingers ever so slightly brush against the blue hedgehog’s. Simply letting him know he’s there. That he’s not alone. Not back in whatever place this talk has taken him to.

The corner of Sonic’s lips curl upwards at that, sighing as his eyes open again to look back at Shadow. A bit teary, but not shedding anymore.

“So trust me when I say… My Shadow and I have quite literally been to hell and back, and I only love him more. Whatever your Sonic is thinking about you, it’s not that you’re not good. If anything, it’s that he’s not.”

Shadow frowns at that, brows furrowing in confusion at that response. Why would Sonic think he himself isn’t good?? That’s all that dumb hedgehog is is good.

Still, he doesn’t argue on this. Just stores this knowledge away for later to ponder and contemplate on.

Sonic’s hand reaches up then, plucking a tiny piece of petal from Shadow’s quills and smirking as he drops it between them. Shadow watches it flitter to the ground.

“...It sounds like we both are talking to the wrong alternate of each other..”

“Yeah,” Sonic huffs, his smile growing a bit tired and wary as his eyes lift back to Shadow’s, “I gotta agree with you on that one.”

[backpackingspace]

Odysseus: demanding Athena take off whatever enchantment she put on him the second the situation ends.

Odysseus: who constantly reminds Athena that he has great plans to grow old and die with his wife so don't even think about getting any ideas.

Odysseus: side eye diomedes who has started fucking glowing he has so many enchantments on him: bro you should talk to Athena about getting those removed. You're going to end up immortal or some shit

Diomedes: who has been a solider since he was 5 who has intersting thoughts about his own personhood who has a much more traditional relationship with Athena and would rather literally stab his own eye out with a rusted sword than speak out of turn: I don't know what you're talking about

[sysig]

Go play pretend on your own (Patreon)

[crescenthistory]

have you ever had something so significant and impactful happen to you but it’s in a really niche area that you can’t really tell anyone in your general life about, so you’re just left imploding and silently screaming???? it’s hell 😭😭

very long story made semi-short; my found family and i have attended and contributed to a live action role play camp twice a year for almost a decade now that’s based on hogwarts/the hp universe and really fucking well made by a skilled team. and you get really fucking attached to these characters because for a few weeks every year you live as them and make friends as them and it’s REAL even though it’s not. my last character was so fucking devastating and important to me, and she had this epic tragic love story with my best friend’s character. we haven’t played them since we finished their storyline in 2023. AND MY BEST FRIEND WAS JUST ASKED TO RETURN AS THAT CHARACTER FOR THIS YEAR’S CAMP????? that’s HUGE, the game masters never make requests like that and it’s super secret but he told me (because it would be cruel not to with our characters’ backstories) and i’m just reeling with shock and excitement and fear. like i’m left REELING at the fact that i get to see him again (him being my bsf’s old character) (bc when you finish playing someone you never get to “see” them again uknow? it’s a whole thing) and also at what this means and all the wounds from the two of them are opening up again and we’re just DYING. we have no idea why he was asked back or what will happen it’s INSANE YOU DONT UNDERSTAND. to deal with it all i’m knitting and crocheting him a bunch of different things that my character has made for his (they live together on her family farm and she uses crafts and art to cope</33) and we’re just literally crying. i love them, they’re sunshine x sunshine and literal soulmates — i made that character based on the concept of what would happen if a sensitive, creative child had the most gentle and accepting parents who cultivated kindness. and then there was a war and her parents were fucking killed offfffff and it was such a huge thing. she lost her leg, her boyfriend lost his eye. it was a whole thing. i’m jittery with emotion and handcrafting at god’s speed because this camp is in three weeks and i’m just. dying. and screaming. my poor wife. (dw she attends the camp too and is screaming with me)

[bumblingbabooshka]

[TUVOKTOBER: Day 15] At First Sight. [Patreon | Commissions]

[breezypunk]

.

[timechange]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 — blind spot.

JANUARY 11, 1986

The key turns in the front door, the winter chill rushing into the house. A moment later, the hall light turns on.

“Mom? You awake?” 

Sylvia smiles at the sound of her son’s voice, putting down her crochet things on the end table.  

“We’re in here, Georgie!” 

Carefully, she stands, easing her grandson’s head off her lap and tucking a pillow underneath. She’s pretty sure the kid must’ve been an acrobat in another life; there’s no way he’d be able to sleep all twisted up like a pretzel otherwise. She readjusts the blanket she’d put over him, smoothing down his hair, before meeting her son and daughter-in-law halfway.

“Well, how was the party?” she asks, leaning up against the breakfast bar as George and Lorraine hang up their coats. “You two crazy kids have fun hobnobbin’ with the head honchos at Simon & Schuster?” 

“It was nice, Mom, thanks,” George answers, way too dismissively for a party he’d been talking about for weeks, full of editors and publishers and everything he’d always dreamed of, “but–”

“How was Marty?” Lorraine interrupts, urgently.

Here we go. Finally, some answers.

“Lorrie, honey, you know Artie and I always love bein’ with the kids,” Sylvia begins, and she meant it, even though Artie had called it a night about three hours ago and was now snoring loud enough to shake the walls, “but seventeen goin’ on eighteen’s a little old for a babysitter, don’t you think?” 

“Oh, we’ve just been so worried about him, Sylvia,” Lorraine pleads, eyes wide. “We… we didn’t think it would be a good idea to leave him alone.” 

“For the last few months,” George elaborates, wrapping an arm around his wife and holding her close, “he hasn’t been himself. He doesn’t sleep, he’s been having nightmares… he’s been having memory problems, too, and I know he’s a teenager, but sometimes he’ll get in his own head and it’s like… he’s not even here, like he goes somewhere else instead.”

“He’ll get so confused,” Lorraine agrees, “and-and he used to love thunderstorms but now he’s just so afraid of them and... other things… sometimes it even feels like he's afraid of us…” She bites her lip and buries herself into George. 

It breaks Sylvia’s heart to see them like this; in mourning for the boy who’s alive and breathing and fast asleep on the couch. Just a few hours ago her and Marty were singing along to the radio while making dinner and laughing until they cried trying to play games on his Nintendo while eating Lucky Charms by the bowlful.

“We must’ve missed something,” George murmurs, “something must’ve happened to him and we missed it somehow.”

“We’ve just been so busy,” Lorraine laments, “too busy. I-I thought it was the stress… with college applications and everything changing… but even Jennifer and Doctor Brown don’t know what’s wrong.”  

Sylvia isn’t quite sure she buys that. 

She may not know a lot of things, but she does know that Carl Sagan from 1931 certainly doesn’t look like that nice young man on PBS from a couple years back but did look a whole lot like that whiz kid Emmett and even more like her grandson’s best friend, that nice Doctor Brown, that Emmett grew up to be. 

She also knows that Sonny Crockett (who is pretty much all they talked about at dinner tonight) is from one of Marty’s favorite shows, not that kid from 1931 with her grandson’s sweet blue eyes and a fake mustache.

She even remembers George begging her and Artie to help him get all dolled up for some dance at the last minute and talking all about how he wasn’t going with a date but he was going to meet up with his new friend Marty there.

Not to mention the date on that Bubble Bobble game of his is two years from now.

When you grow up around liars and cheats, you get to be really good at noticing things. 

“So how was he tonight?” George asks again. “Really?”

“Georgie, sweetheart, he was fine,” Sylvia emphasizes. “We had a great time. As for the other stuff… Remember what you were like when you were his age? I sure do. Any time your dad and I got near ya we’d have to promise we weren’t tryin’ to look in your journals. Even if we were just givin’ you a hug!”

They crack a smile at this, George at least having the decency to look sheepish.

“Whatever’s going on with Marty,” she continues, “he’ll tell ya when he’s good and ready. And remember: you’re great parents. He loves you. He’d do anything for you. Just be there for him until then and let him know that you love him too. No matter what.”

Sylvia looks over her shoulder at her sleeping grandson, a fond smile and a mischievous look in her eye.

We got a lot to talk about, kiddo. I’m ready when you are.