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sortasirius · 4 years ago

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What the Fuck Happened to the SPN Finale?

Okay so here it is, my Charlie Kelly style manifesto.

Before I get into it, I recognize that I will look like this to many of you, and that’s okay, I understand:

Secondly, your personal Takes about the writers don’t interest me, I don’t need to hear them. This, as I’ll explain, is going to remain a writer positive blog, and that’s the end of it.

Third, and most importantly: some of what I’m going to talk about is fact, and some is highly educated speculation. I will notate what is speculation, just so there’s no confusion or hot takes in my inbox that I’m a conspiracy theorist or stirring shit up for no reason.

A list of what I’ll be discussing

The episode in regards to the rest of the season

The episode issues: length, editing

Scene placement and speculation of scenes cut

The scrubbing of Jack, Cas, Eileen

Network involvement and general timeline of when things were cut

Misha: theories on where he was, official company line, why we can’t expect to hear anything directly

The silence of the cast post episode (in Misha’s case, mid episode) and what this might mean

Jensen speaking with Kripke about the ending: why it doesn’t mean what you might think (also why kripke remained positive on the ending)

Walker, and why this episode had a major shift

Why the network would do this or get involved

Why the writers of the show simply aren’t the bad guys here, and what I “want” out of this post, since I know it’ll get asked

This is very long and under a cut, but I hope you’ll give it a read.

The Episode In Regards to the Rest of the Season

So, I’ve discussed this already here, but it’s the most obvious thing to me, and that’s the way this episode simply doesn’t fit with the rest of the season.

These people in this room have, truly, been nothing but consistent when it comes to their arcs, especially this season, and the marked dropoff in quality for the finale episode is just too sus to discount to me. Dabb’s whole focus has been character-based. In his seasons, we’ve moved far away from MOTW and bro-codependency, the found family taking it’s place. Does it really sit right to anyone that that was all thrown away in literally the last episode of the entire show?

This is speculation on my part, but as a writer myself, there is no way I would be happy or willing to stamp my name on something that I didn’t think would, at the very least, wrap up the season+ character arcs that I and my team had been crafting.

And before anyone comes in here saying, “well GOT did that!” Bruh. The writing was on the wall for GOT long before the final episode. You could tell that the showrunners just wanted to be done (not only from the plot, but from the fact that they lobbied for a shorter season). Miss me with that, it doesn’t apply here. Andrew has, besides Singer and J2, been with the show longer than anyone. He cares, he is meticulous and detailed, and this ending feels worse than anything Bucklemming has ever written, let alone Dabb.

Additionally, I’ve seen a lot of people say that Dabb was never behind Destiel, that it was all Bobo and Meredith and no one else. That is reductive to the point of insult of the work Dabb has done to get this greenlit. This man did not write the s13 Dean grief arc to be slandered like this. That being said, YES, Bobo and Meredith were the leads on the DeanCas arc this season, but ANDREW IS THE SHOWRUNNER, TO GET EVEN THE CONFESSION APPROVED BY THE NETWORK HE WOULD HAVE TO HAVE THEIR BACKS. AND HE DID.

Finale Issues

So, now that we’ve gotten the fact that this episode doesn’t hit on any of the major themes the show was barrelling towards all season, let’s discuss the fact that the episode is just...weird.

Not only is it shorter than any other episode (I think with the intro and the credits/crew thing at the end, it was around 38 mins), but it was also...idk, 90% filler?

One of the lovely humans in the POLOL server did the legwork here, and broke it down:

This is weird, y’all. Most series finales are LONGER than normal (Lost, SOA, Longmire are the ones I can think of off the top of my head), and for the final episode to be this? I saw more than one person point out that we only really needed 19 episodes, what was the point of 20? AND THAT’S EXACTLY IT? WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS FINAL EPISODE IF THIS WAS ALL WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET?

It simply doesn’t make any sense, the first half of the episode was rushed, a final monster hunt gone wrong, but in the second half? Nothing really happened? Sam lived his entire life and Dean just drove around. It doesn’t make sense to have all the emotional arcs left unaddressed in an episode that definitely needed some kind of spark.

Here’s the speculation I have: the episode seemingly went through a lot of changes between the initial inception of the final season and when we actually got it, but I think it would have been passable (as in, we wouldn’t be sitting here asking each other why each arc feels incomplete) until the editing room got ahold of it. The only think that makes this episode make sense is network fuckery. Truly, that is the only thing. It explains the weird, cuts, the rushed pacing of the first half followed by nothing in the second half, the double montages of “Wayward Son” back to back, and Dean just...driving around for the last half of the episode.

Scene Placement and Speculation of Scenes Cut

Before I get into this section, the info of the shots in the episode I have come from a source that @occamshipper got a week or so before the finale. She’s talked about this here.

So here’s what Min was given:

1-5: 1 INT MEN OF LETTERS – DEAN’S ROOM Dean is greeted by Miracle

6-10: 6 INT MEN OF LETTERS – HALLWAY/SAM’S ROOM Sam has his routine

D1 1 11-15: 15 EXT FARM HOUSE Establishing

N1 1/8 16-20: 19 Dad’s journal, marker, drawing of masked man in journal.

21-25: 23 INT IMPALA – PMP Driver picks the music

N2 1 3/8 1,2 26-30: 28pt2 INT BARN: A face from the past

28pt3 Sam and Dean say goodbye

28pt4 Shot early for technical reasons, presumably the overhead shot

N2 31-45: 41 INT MEN OF LETTERS – SAM’S ROOM Sam’s alarm goes off D4 1/8 1 46-60: 56 INT N7glasses for Sam, laptop.

So...it all fits right? It all tracks with the actual episode, where it lands, etc. The issue is between shots 29-40 which were apparently “too big to spoil.” Uh. Where are they? And where’s 28 pt4?

After Dean dies, the next scene is Sam burning him, then shot 31, the shot of his alarm going off.

So. Where are those 11ish shots?

PLUS we have the boards, which are scenes we KNOW were actually shot:

As well as scenes for 20 that were shot in 19.

It’s just...weird, it’s weird and again hits on the fact that the episode is so short and like 80% montage.

The Scrubbing of Jack, Cas, and Eileen

So now we have to reckon with the fact that Eileen was last mentioned by Sam after she got snapped by Chuck, Jack’s last mention is that he’s off being God somewhere, and Cas’ last mention is a ~knowing look~ between Dean and Bobby.

I’m sorry, make it make sense:

???????? That’s the end if it? They don’t need to be discussed after this??? It’s just simply not something a writer would do, they would not introduce these characters, these arcs, without thinking there’s going to be some kind of follow through here.

So not only were three major characters (including two leads and both of the original characters’ love interests) completely wiped from the finale episode, it was as though Sam and Dean never even needed them, which just...ain’t it.

So why Eileen and Jack too? Why not just take Cas out of it if they were afraid of the gay? Because, ultimately, the episode went back to Kripke’s original story: just the bros, they only need each other and no one else. They don’t want anyone else, they don’t need anyone else. Easier to go back to something they knew was successful than trust the writers and their audience and take a big leap.

Alex even said he shot for 20 with “some of the guys” here. What happened to that footage?

The complete 180 of it all still shocks me, I still cannot believe that we were essentially at the finish line, and the network just stopped short, and decided to go run another race, at the expense of the arc of this fifteen year legacy show.

Network Involvement and When Things Were Cut

Okay, now into the juicy stuff.

So I’ve pretty well established that network fuckery is clear, but how much did they get involved, what was the original intent?

Well again, we may never actually know what Andrew’s original script was, but I think, at the least, it would involve Dean speaking his truth to Cas and Sam living a life with Eileen.

Now, it seems today, that Misha said that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale in one iteration of the script, and while initially my brain was like “that truly makes no sense and he’s either straight up lying or telling a half truth,” I think what may be happening is Misha talking about as much as he can right now.

So Jimmy right. Weird as fuck. Why would he been in the Roadhouse and not Cas? My current thought (this is about as reachy as I’ll get) is that Jimmy had no lines, could he have been in the Roadhouse as a red herring, like it said “Jimmy” in the script but it was just Cas in human clothes, a way to get around the network saying Cas couldn’t be in the final scene. Also, you’ll notice that Misha didn’t say that Cas wasn’t supposed to be in the ep at all, just Jimmy in the last scene.

All this to say, there have clearly been multiple versions of the script, getting lighter and lighter with Cas and Eileen as the network pulled further and further back. Remember, Dabb has to get things approved before they get shot, and if the network kept asking and asking and asking to cut Cas and Eileen, he had to find a way to work around it. Granted, I still think that if we had been able to get a Dabb script that wasn’t torn to shreds in editing, it wouldn’t be so bad. It may not be what a lot of us wanted (Dean speaking his truth to Cas and a reciprocation), but doing everything he could to give it to us in subtext or visual clues.

Plus, in all honesty, my man can’t keep his story straight anyway. He said twice in his panel that the Empty and offscreen Heaven ending weren’t his original ending either.

In addition, remember that Jensen did ADR post episode 18, AND said in a meet and greet last weekend that Dean’s reaction to Cas’ confession was “cut down.” (Source here). Many of us clowns got excited when we first heard about ADR, because we thought it would be upping the ante on Dean’s reaction, but I remember being a little sus when it was just crying. My speculation on that is that they cut out Dean actually SAYING something, @winchestersingerautorepair spoke about that here.

The biggest sins were, in my opinion, committed during editing, where the network got too gun shy and sliced the episode until it was nothing but a heartless bro-fest of a finale, not mentioning anything about the other major characters that we all love, and letting the boys just suffer in separation until Sam died and finally joined Dean in Heaven. The editing came by cutting all the major emotional beats between anyone other than Dean and Sam, leaving the skeleton of the story intact, just shorter and less...poignant than it was ever supposed to be.

Misha

We know Misha was in Vancouver, we know he quarantined, but we also know he wasn’t in the final scene, when he spoke about being in the last moment of the show months ago. We were not crazy, he was there, he quarantined, and, in all likelihood (speculation but fitting with the timeline), he actually may have shot something (not much, but something).

I have sources here, here, here, and here showing where Misha was at that time.

Remember, the man was completely open about coming back until they finished shooting (look at this thread). The switch happened, just like everything else, halfway through them shooting.

Please also remember Jake Abel posting his “Where’s Misha” video here. Jake isn’t malicious, he isn’t being nasty here. Misha was there, and everyone that’s trying to convince people he’s wasn’t just...isn’t telling the truth about it.

This is one of the things that makes me really mad, because they’re literally attempting to gaslight people into thinking, “oh we were totally wrong he was never supposed to be there” WHEN HE WAS THERE, WE KNOW HE WAS THERE.

So we’ve already heard from several people (Meghan Fitzmartin, Jay, a PA on the set of 19 (WHO WAS NOT WORKING FOR 20), Misha himself) that this was all down to Covid restrictions. Ultimately, as this post says, we’ve heard FIVE versions of where Misha was. None of it makes sense, but the Covid protocol seems to be the company line that others are repeating.

You may ask: why? Why lie to all of us when we have questions? Why, in Jay’s case, say that we’re all spreading false lies to stir up trouble, when we just have questions and things that do not make sense. Simply? Warner Brothers is absolutely massive. These people have their careers to protect and are likely all under NDAs. They want to work for WB again and don’t want to burn bridges, including Misha. It sucks, but that’s why it’s unlikely that we’ll hear someone come out and say, “yeah we’re lying to you.”

Silence of the Cast Post Episode

So this is...probably the worst part of all this, at least in my opinion.

The guys had all been pretty excited about the end of the show (especially Jared, but Jensen’s panel last week was Jensen as happy and jokey and positive as I’ve ever seen him. He was so excited about episode 18, about what it meant for Dean and for Cas, and I just cannot buy that he would have been that excited unless he thought there was something more in the episode.

Misha live-tweeted the episode, and was watching it with his kids. It’s well known that Misha and the kids don’t watch the show because it’s too scary, and let’s ask ourselves, why would he have them watch an episode that he’s barely even mentioned in?

He also stopped live-tweeting at a very specific point in the episode (Dean’s death) and has not mentioned Supernatural since then.

None of them, not Jared, Jensen, Misha, or even Alex, said anything about the episode for nearly 36 hours, when Jensen posted a salty photo on instagram. It’s just...not what you’d expect for the end of a 15 year show, when the cast and crew are so close to the fans, so close to each other.

My theory? They didn’t know. They thought Misha was, at least, going to be in the episode in some way, and when he wasn’t, they decided not to say anything.

You really think that Jensen “Heller” Ackles would have been so excited about the end of the show last week if he thought Cas wasn’t going to be in it at all? Nah son, doesn’t make any sense.

Even today, in Jared and Misha’s panels, they seemed sad and...more than a little careful, both saying that there were things they couldn’t say, both talking around things that we all have questions on.

Jensen Speaking with Kripke

So this is where a lot of people are getting fodder to take shots at the writers, saying that Jensen hated it from the beginning, but I don’t think so. I actually think I know what Jensen went to him about, and it wasn’t the lack of Cas or the weird pacing or the montages (which I don’t think were there when Jensen got the script); I think it was the manner of Dean’s death.

I know a lot of people were upset about that, upset with how...normal it was, coming off an episode where they literally beat God. I actually didn’t mind it, I thought it was an interesting thematic take to be like: you can be a hero all your life, but sometimes shit happens, and you just die.

But imagine how hard that was for Jensen to read. He would run to Kripke for that, because for him, Dean dying by being impaled by a piece of rebar had to be tough to swallow.

So, why didn’t Kripke say that? Why didn’t he say, “oh well he had a problem with Dean’s death, none of that other stuff was in the script.”

Guys. Why would he get involved? He’s not going to burn bridges any more than anyone else is. He said the ending was good because it’s the easy thing to do, it’s simple, will cause him no problems in his career, and he can just ignore the people trying to engage with him on it.

Walker

Something else to talk about is the major shift this episode had from the rest of the season: the shift from Dean to Sam. I am NOT saying that Sam isn’t important, he definitely, absolutely is, but it was DEAN who really needed to wrap up his arc, Sam just needed to move on, get married to Eileen, become the leader he was always meant to. So what changed? What was with the shirtless scene, the Austin number and random case there, most of the episode being heavily Sam focused, going through his entire life in a montage?

Anyone else notice the 375 Walker promos, or Jared’s little spiel about Walker and how he hoped SPN fans would “come along for the ride.”

It’s...kinda obvious? CW wanted to appeal to who they think the key demographic of SPN and Walker is: rural areas in the South. It would explain a lot, why so much editing, why so Sam focused, the Austin number, the number of Walker promos, all of it.

I’m not saying this is fact, I don’t know that it is, but it is a little suspicious that even in Jared’s panel today, he talked A LOT about Walker and how he hopes SPN fans will watch it.

Why Would the Network Get Involved?

Simply put: $$$

If they think Walker can be the new SPN, and that those crazy SPN fans liked it originally, it’s a lot safer to go with the “original intent” of the show than do something risky (like making one of your two original leads queer).

And? They don’t care. They don’t care that the episode didn’t make sense, they don’t care that all the emotional arcs were left hanging, they don’t care by (potentially) smashing together two of Dean’s monologues (one to Sam, one to Cas) that it came of as...gross. ( @curioussubjects wrote a beautiful post showing how part of that death speech was likely meant for Dean here). They don’t care, they never have, they just want to make their money and move on from the too-loud fandom that fought for representation too hard for too long.

It can’t help but feel insidious, which, honestly, it might be, but it really all comes down to the next cash cow, which, they think, is Walker, even at the cost of the fifteen year legacy show.

The Writers and What I Want

So here it is, all this weird, sus shit laid out on the line. And you know what? To me, there is no way to blame the writers, because they didn’t want this.

I don’t think Dabb and Bobo would have gone ahead with the confession in 18 without thinking that there would be some closure to that arc, they wouldn’t have done that not only to the fans, but for the sake of their own story as well: no writer wants to start something that they can’t finish. (And this applies to both Cas and Eileen).

Here’s a basic rundown of what I think happened: they had a clear arc from 18-20, ending in reciprocation at some level from Dean, Sam marrying Eileen, Hunter Sam as the new Bobby, Dean in heaven with Cas and big roadhouse reunion at the end. Covid prevented a good amount of that. Network had to stare at big gay 18 for six months, got cold feet. Thought about Walker, target audience and alienation of the rural areas if it went full gay. Misha quarantined and likely shot something (not much), he was then cut by execs and went home. They likely added in lines referencing Eileen and Cas to make it clear but more subtextual. They wrap, editing gets it and hacks it to pieces, so we get a shorter episode that’s mostly montages and jarringly bro-centric with nothing else. Arcs are left hanging. Dabb gets episode but it’s too late, there’s nothing he can do. Actors aren’t told so they can continue to do positive PR for the ending, they all found out at the same time we did: hence almost complete silence about the finale.

And you know what? They warned us. I talked about it here, but they’ve been telling us all season that Chuck wasn’t the writer, he’s the network. I don’t think, still, that they thought it would be cut up like this, into something so unsalvageable that it’s been panned by almost everyone, even people who didn’t care much about Dean and Cas.

Finally, a masterpiece can be ruined by editing, and while I’m not sure even the script they ended up shooting on was a masterpiece (due to the network meddling already), but to me it’s blatantly obvious that it’s no one but the network that caused this, that took away closure for Dean, Cas, and even Sam.

So what do I want? Nothing really, there’s nothing we can do, but I wrote this mostly to show people that the writers are not your enemy. In fact, to the people trashing them? You’re doing exactly what the CW wants you to: blame the obvious targets, blame Misha, blame Jensen and Jared, blame Dabb. Scream and yell at them on Twitter and about how the show is ruined because of them. The network keeps their engagement levels high, they don’t get as targeted for their behavior, and just keep moving along.

Just, please, think about who did this, Mourn the show, be angry, but not at the people who fought tooth and nail for this for literal years, not the people who wanted it more than we did, not the people who cannot say anything because of their careers and the NDAs they’re bound by.

Someone is going to spill eventually, but until then, we just have to wait, and continue to be loud.

#my writing #my meta #supernatural #spn #spn finale trash fire #MY MANIFESTO IS DONE

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dawl-and-dapple · 3 years ago

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rating: general warning: No Warnings Apply relationship: Caleb Widogast / Essek Thelyss word count: 1,548

Caleb tells Essek some campfire stories. Inspired by this lovely artwork by @fea_feathers. Beta-ed by @mllekurtz.

***

Far in the northern wastelands of Eiselcross, almost two miles below the surface where storms scream for days on end, under layers of ice and rock and metal, is a single dark-grey hemisphere. It is dwarfed by the three great black marble pillars which stretch up to the arched roof of the hall which hadn't been disturbed for several hundred years, until a little over an hour ago.

There are signs of life now: two pairs of footprints leading from one doorway into the centre of the hall, stopping at the perimeter of the dome. One of the sets of feet had limped slightly.

Inside, a small campfire mutters with the unnatural docility of one created by magic. Two men sit opposite one another, both leaning in towards the fire’s warmth.

Essek used his final high-level spell against the Absorber which had subsequently broken his collarbone. He had been counterspelled anyhow. The frustration of losing that spell slot for naught is frankly worse than the throbbing pain in his chest and left ankle, particularly after Caleb had dosed him with a moderate potion of health.

He sits on a lump of broken stone Caleb had kicked into the centre of his circle before raising the dome. It’s about the right size to be a makeshift stool, though not nearly as forgiving as one. Essek shifts a little in his seat, decidedly not complaining about his back.

Caleb pulls out the bottle he’d been looking for in his bag of holding. It’s not Lionett wine this time, but a small dark-brown bottle with no label.

“Upon recommendation of our friend Veth, whom we blessed with a more refined taste. Almost as good as a health potion, wouldn't you say?”

Essek takes one mouthful of the stuff before deciding he’d rather not risk the focus necessary for trancing that night. Caleb has swallowed half the bottle by then. Instead, Essek pours a little into a mug of cocoa he’d prepared over their small campfire made from the first of six servings Caduceus had given them.

“How is your ankle,” asks Caleb. He’s not slurring his words yet, though he has quietly migrated from the other side of the dome to a spot on the floor next to Essek’s boulder. “You were favouring your right on our way into this chamber.”

“Much better. It is only my shoulder which is hurting now.”

Caleb nods. He’s slowly rubbing the pad on his thumb around the rim of the bottle, making it hum. “I cannot convince you to drink another potion.”

Essek chuckles. “I will trance it off, thank you. I have endured worse. You have, too.”

“That is true.”

“You and the others do like to brag about your scars and the circumstances behind them, for whatever reason. I recall you once mentioning an occasion involving a devil-toad…” Essek trails off, lifting his brow as a pleased expression overcomes Caleb.

“That was barely two days after Veth and I had first met the others,” says Caleb. “I spent half of that fight horizontal.” He says it with the nostalgia of one recalling their first kiss.

“We wizards truly are indispensable.”

Throwing back the rest of the whiskey, Caleb lurches to his feet and shrugs off his oiled leather overcoat. “I think I will tell you some stories,” he says. “You have missed a lot and we have never been particularly transparent with you, Essek. You still do not know what happened inside the happy fun ball.”

Essek begins to push himself to his feet too, but Caleb beats him to it and shoos him back down onto the rock-stool.

“No, no, stay there. I will be your storyteller.”

Essek watches Caleb painstakingly position himself between the campfire and the wall of rubble marking the southern boundary of their dome so that his shadow dances tall and spindly across the rocks behind him. The firelight winks for a moment as Caleb waves his hand to cast control flame and makes the fire suddenly stand tall and uncannily still like a spear of hot glass in the tinder.

Clearing his throat, Caleb holds out one arm straight and perpendicular to his body.

“A man in my hometown would tell stories like this,” he explains. “With a screen of cloth between us, the children, and him and his lamp. He would make, ah, monsters and heroes and mountains with his puppets and bare hands.” Caleb sticks one finger up behind his elbow, creating a silhouette of a person standing alone on the horizon of his arm. “I am not nearly as skilled as him.”

“I really have no frame of reference,” says Essek. “But I am no art critic either way. Tell me a story, Caleb.”

Essek is unsure how much of this can be blamed on the drink and how much on the terrible day they’d endured. Caleb seems eager to show off in front of Essek, either way.

He begins by describing the incidents in Trostenwald and Alfield. There is a lot of arm-waving and minor illusion involved in order to convey the dramatic effect the tales necessitate. Essek happily sinks lower into his warm furs with every minute of Caleb’s performance, reconstructing this timeline; a surprisingly short amount of time had passed between the Nein first meeting and their arrival in Rosohna, but so much had happened.

Caleb occasionally stumbles.

“And then—then, um, Fjord said to me...ah, I cannot remember the exact words.” He laughs and presses the heel of his fist to his temple. “After a month or so the details begin to blur, you see. But he told me that he owed me one. The joke is on both of us though, you see, because had we completed that ritual our ship would have been destroyed by a storm.”

“Oh, gosh.”

“Typical wizard and warlock behaviour. Cannot see the forest for the trees, or the deadly tempest-summoning-blood-ritual for the spell circle.”

“Indeed,” says Essek, entranced by the way Caleb’s body language has been loosened by the drink. He’s grinning so broadly his cheeks are dimpled.

“I cannot say I regret it though, in retrospect,” Caleb goes on. “Our friend Fjord was the de-facto leader at the time, as the only one with sailing experience. Given that man’s track-record it likely did him good to graze against the consequences of his actions.”

“Had you not been on a boat before then?”

“No, no. I had not even seen the ocean until a month before. The empire is landlocked and I lived nowhere close to a lake, and had no means of boarding a sailing boat in such a modest and rew—rool—roowool—rewhul...rurrool...Scheiß auf diese hässliche Sprache.”

Caleb scrubs at his eyes while Essek laughs.

“Tell me about the happy fun ball,” says Essek, breaking Caleb out of his frustration.

“Ja, ja, so we were looking for the heart of this, ah, this unkillable monster. The laughing hand. He was a mean motherfucker, as Beauregard might put it, ha!” Caleb pulls his shoulders up to imitate a larger frame. “Huge. Sword for a hand. Covered in mouths which laugh and make you crazy. Nothing we did to hurt him stuck. But...his mortal heart was deep inside the archmage’s bane and if we destroyed that—!”

Caleb points at Essek and raises his brow.

“You may destroy him.”

“Genau. And so, we dove once more into the happy fun ball. Oh, I must tell you of our first time inside the ball though. You will enjoy this story, it involves a library. I will return to our friend with the mouths later.”

Caleb goes on for another while. It is so very entertaining for Essek to watch him stumble his way through a story while lifting the empty sleeves of his coat to cast dragon-wings against the rocks, or hook it over his head to create the hulking shadow of the laughing hand, or hold his splayed fingers close to the campfire to imitate the long boney claws of the creatures they came across in the barbed fields. But Essek cannot keep his eyes open forever.

Blind, he listens to Caleb’s voice, warmed by whisky and cocoa, lifting in pitch and tone. It carries him through the southern oceans and the greying wildlands. He hears his own friends’ voices being imitated (terribly, but so endearingly) as the ache in his shoulder fades and he floats somewhere above his own body.

“Are you trancing, Essek?”

“Hm.”

“Oh. I forgot you can do that sitting up.”

Reluctantly, Essek opens his eyes. The hypnotic rhythm of thought, imagination, and memory pauses and rearranges itself into his waking brain. “You should sleep. I do not know the time, but it must be late, and we both need the rest.”

Caleb nods. His face is remarkably pink after the drink and the exertion of storytelling.

“Yes.”

“Please tell me more tomorrow night,” says Essek. He slides off the rock stool and lays out his furs. “Then, pick up where you left off, please. Tell me about the forging of that sword.”

Caleb smiles. He dims the fire, joins Essek on the ground, and rolls out his own bedspread over the cracked marble floor. “Of course. We were just getting to a good part.”

“Don’t spoil me.”

#cr fic #critical role fic #critical role essek #shadowgast #shadowgast fic #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #ficlet

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vina-writes · 4 years ago

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Ten Favorite Drarry Fic Recs

I’ve reached a bit of a follower milestone, and I thought, why not celebrate? I’m happy! This is an incredible feeling that I honestly can’t fully articulate in writing. Knowing someone enjoyed my work and presence enough that they’d want to be notified if I posted again just makes me squeal and want to hug everyone from joy!! Thank you to anyone who has ever left me kudos, a comment, a tag, a note, an emoji, a tag emoji!! I am endlessly grateful to you all for this support and kindness.

Now, since it’s party time, I’ve compiled a personal list of my ten favorite Drarry fics to share the love. This is by no means a stamp of quality (as there are thousands of brilliant fics out there) and neither is it a guarantee that these are everyone’s cup of tea. But they are certainly my cup of tea— my whole buffet honestly.

I chose fics that made me feel deeply. Fics that made me cry, laugh, throw my phone, squeal and wiggle and dance at the end. These (mostly) weren’t fics which answered deep philosophical questions. They were fics which instead showed me love and adventure, joys and betrayals, misunderstandings and occasionally unbelievable (but appreciated) levels of smut (you know who you are). These are stories I read to be entertained, entranced, delighted, and happy. These are stories that made me feel in love.

In honor of that (and of my Canva addiction) I’ve made little banners for each. I hope they do some justice to these works. I’ve tried to capture the feeling of each fic in just one image. Without further ado, read on to find out exactly what my guilty pleasure (as if Drarry isn’t enough) is:

The Songbirds of Avebury Manor by Tessa Crowley [E, 18k]

Summary: Harry Potter presents as alpha at fifteen, and it is supposed to change his life for the better. Instead, it leads him to a beautiful noble omega he cannot have, a political plot he cannot escape, and a threat on his life.

This story. Oh my stars, this story. What can I even say to properly express how I feel about it? This is the Romeo and Juliet, the Pride and Prejudice, the Hades and Persephone of Drarry. Reading this made me feel like an unwedded Victorian lass waiting for her Prince Charming. It’s a wonderful Historical AU that throws around power dynamics and questions of who is worthy of love, freedom, and respect despite them. This is a brilliant portrait of deep romantic love. Harry’s dedication to Draco is all-encompassing, beautiful, intense, intimate— earth shattering, really. The way they fall in love despite class and situation made me want to cry and write poetry. This is a true fairytale romance.

The Pirate and the Prince by @nerdherderette, maniacani [E, 49k]

Summary: Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

The moment I started this story I knew it was going to be an instant favorite. It’s swashbuckling, debonair yet disheveled, dangerous, fun, adventurous— everything you could desire from a romance on the high seas! Though they come from very different backgrounds, this Draco and Harry are a power couple to the core. Their romance is once again beautiful, intense, and dedicated, but this time it’s mixed with a healthy dose of self-exploration and mutual acceptance. But apart from romance this fic holds delicious secrecy and identity issues, an astounding knowledge of sailing ships, plenty of piratey shenanigans, some heart-wrenching found family dynamics, a cursing parrot, and a glorious angst with a happy ending finale!

Soup-pocalypse and the Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats [E, 104k]

Summary: Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

What can I say about Soup-pocalypse? It will lure you in with tales of Veelas and romance, and then it will kidnap you and throw you in cooking class and therapy. You’ll come out wondering what just happened and how two days have passed. There will, of course, be Veelas and romance aplenty, but it will be a caring romance, a familial romance, a supportive and kind and nurturing romance. This story feels like family, good cooking, sunny days, the deep heartbreak of change, and through all of it, the truth of a real and solid partnership. This is the humorous yet angst-ridden tale of two idiots learning to love as adults, and then in turn learning to face the world together.

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakickass [M, 20k]

Summary: When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

Right then. On to the angstiest story I’ve ever read and truly enjoyed. Not just enjoyed, adored! Worshipped! Come back to time and again whenever I needed a good cry! Here is the beauty of it: this fic is deeply painful and heartbreaking, yet it steers clear of emotions like disgust and discomfort. Never once was it disturbing— only sorrowful, in the purest and most heart-wrenching way. Yet despite the pain strung throughout the majority of it, this fic left me feeling relieved and rejuvenated, the way one feels after crying their heart out over something simple. It’s an emotional release that does not leave you broken.

On the Last Day of Our World by Sansa [E, 84k]

Summary: During a detention, Harry and Draco get locked in a strange room together overnight. When they escape the next morning, they discover they are alone. Love, angst and adventure abound as they struggle to survive in an empty world.

Truly one of my favorite takes on canon divergence. Truly. This is an exploration of isolation and the joys and comforts that come with it. It is the power couple Drarry to rule them all— a Draco and Harry so strongly connected, in love, and attuned to one another that the world could fall at their feet. This story leaves you on the edge of your seat until the very bitter end— one of those where the second things are briefly peaceful the world goes up in a new set of flames. Those of you who daydream about a partnership that needs no others, two souls who are each other’s family, friend, and future, and would gladly abandon everything to spend eternity alone together: this is for you.

The Arc of the Pendulum by brummel [E, 30k]

Summary: After his father casts a mysterious curse on Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy is forced to try to make things right.

Yes. YES. YES!!! The Beauty and the Beast take you didn’t know you needed! Still canon-compliant to an extent, this is realistic and raw and incredible. Draco makes the choice to help Harry here, and the vulnerability of their interactions while Harry struggles with the curse is everything you could hope it to be. There’s a distinct fairytale atmosphere in this fic— both of them confined together, finding support and comfort in one another while struggling through the effects of the curse, and falling in love along the way. I could write sonnets about the ending using my tears for ink, but they shan’t be revealed here.

Picking Up Pieces by Tessa Crowley [E, 43k]

Summary of Part One: Fifteen years after the War, Draco is a social recluse and award winning author. Harry is an auror who works too hard, ensuring his old war wounds never heal. They meet at a masque ball, unaware of each other's identities. In another situation, it would have been love at first sight. But for them, it would never be so simple.

Picking Up Pieces deserves no introduction, but if you haven’t read it yet, please find a blanket, and cup of tea, and a quiet place to read, cry, and recover. I sobbed my little heart out through the entire second half— the tears were really never ending. How does it end up on a reclist by a fluff lover like me? The answer is similar to Antidote— though this story broke me apart, it was never twisted nor ugly, never disturbing. It was an incredibly touching tale of redemption, forgiveness, human nature, and recompense. The writing does put you through the emotional wringer, but it leaves you relieved and whole. I would lay down my life for this Draco. He truly needs to be protected and loved at all costs. Even though I’m usually careful when recommending heavy stories, I would encourage everyone to read this— it made me feel new, it made me feel like I’d spent an hour crying in the shower, but most of all, it really did make me happy.

Two Trees by LakeWitch [E, 36k]

Summary (shortened): In his Eighth year at Hogwarts, part of Draco Malfoy's probation is to see a Mind Healer once a week. Another part, unfortunately, is having to take Muggle Studies.

It wouldn't be so bad, really, if it weren't for the mandatory outing—a 'field trip'—booked at a Muggle lakeside retreat for the better part of five days. [...] Draco is determined to get it all over with as painlessly as possible. He'll keep his head down, and stay out of everyone's way. That is, until Pansy tells him—at the very last moment—that she's schemed to have Draco stay in the same room with Potter for the whole trip.

Just the two of them... in one room.

This is the comfort fic of all comfort fics. It feels like camping, like sitting by a lake in the sun, like marshmallows over a fire and sparks against a starry sky, and cool, feather-soft hotel sheets. Draco is dealing with several different anxieties here, but the brilliant setting and easy plot turn them into a cathartic read. This is a fic about young love and the ability to build bonds on trips. It made me remember my first crushes and the feeling of getting breakfast in a hotel lobby. There’s cuddling, there’s love, there’s some highly emo Draco (both warranted and unwarranted), and there’s a truckload of nature. Go read it!

Your Place Or Mine? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark [E, 26k]

Summary: "This person is so much harder to hate. And I’m supposed to hate Malfoy. How the fuck else am I supposed to limit this to just sex?"

At first I was like, “Damn, Harry,” but then I was all, “Damn Harry!” but then I went, “DAMN Harry!” (interspersed with a lot of whistling and cursing). I could have slapped him, and you will want to. This is another Draco that deserves endless love and hot chocolate, with a Harry that deserves a good smack. I think about this fic weekly, and not just because it’s endlessly hot— although it is scorching hot, like how do you even write something that hot type of hot. Draco’s pining and Harry’s stupidity makes for the angstiest yet most satisfying friends-with-benefits-but-really-there’s-more combination, and the climax (pun intended) and resulting spill of emotions is everything anyone could hope for. Ten out of ten.

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken [T, 19k]

Summary (shortened): Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship...

This thing of beauty is exactly as hilarious as it sounds. However, it is so much more than the endless laughs (although there are many). It is sweet, tender, touching, and filled with glorious pining and misunderstandings. Inside you’ll find extravagant (the word was literally invented for Cibee’s Draco) outfits, confusing customs, a blanket that brought me to tears, one badass house-elf, one very confused beloved, absolutely no fornication (wink), and one hopelessly smitten pureblood. Be warned, this fic is actually three “What the fuck, Draco?”s in a trenchcoat. I read it when I want to laugh, facepalm, and submerge myself in the adorable stupidity that is Draco Malfoy in love. It is well worth your time and is sure to bring a smile to your face.

With this final fic we conclude my list on a happy note! It’s long, it’s tedious, and I had a spanking good time writing it. I hope these bring some joy or happy tears to your day.

Love, Vina

#vina recs #oh my look a new tag!#long post #drarry #drarry fic rec

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longing-and-heartache-and-lust · 3 years ago

Text

the drug, the dark, the light, the flame, Ch.I

[next] [Ao3]

This is the first chapter of my work for the @geraskierbigbang in colaboration with the incredible @gen-syz-art (also on Twitter) as my artist.

New chapters will be updated five days a week - aside from the weekends - until completion ✨

[When Geralt first comes across the mansion, he comes in because the nearest town is still hours away and he knows Roach is not going to make it that far without rest.

That is when he meets Julian - the only resident of the truly enormous estate that seems to have everything one might dream of within its walls.

When Geralt returns the second time, he tells himself that it’s only because he wants to thank Julian for his hospitality and help, and not because he wants to see him again, feel the warmth of his fingers against his skin.

And when he returns again after that, he learns that both the mansion and his own heart may not be as simple as they seem.]

See the first art piece by @gen-syz-art here

_______________________________

The first time he comes across the mansion, he's returning from a hunt.

It’s long past sunset, nearly midnight, and the pale light of the crescent moon is barely enough to illuminate the path that leads Geralt to the gates.

The town he came from is still no less than two hours away, and Roach is already starting to trip, tired after a long ride. If it wasn’t for that, Geralt would’ve probably ignored his own exhaustion, as well as the wounds on his shoulder, but the mare needs rest, and that's what makes him stop when he sees a flickering light behind one of the large windows of the mansion.

It's hard to tell in the darkness but even so, the building looks immense, as well as the garden around, part of which is separating the mansion from the gates.

Geralt doesn't want to risk it, doesn't want to wander into a stranger's home, especially at this hour, but he knows that Roach won't make it to the town they came from, and he doesn't know any other places they could stop at along the way.

So, against his better judgement, he tugs on the reins and stops the horse, jumping down from the saddle with a pained grunt.

He comes closer to the tall gates, adorned with some intricate design, and pushes on one of the arches, not really expecting for it to give. To his surprise, it does, making no sound as it opens, letting him into the garden.

"Stay here," he says, turning to Roach before slowly stepping inside, his every sense heightened.

The path leading up to the mansion is wide enough for a carriage and Geralt can't help but think who it is that's going to open the door if he gets to it.

Up close, the mansion is even bigger than it seemed from behind the gates, and Geralt isn't sure if he'd ever seen a building that big, even in Novigrad. The Oxenfurt Academy seems bigger when he thinks about it but then again, the Academy is made up out of multiple buildings while the mansion seems to only be one.

There doesn't seem to be any movement inside but the light behind the windows tells him that there is a fireplace burning, and since it's on the first floor, Geralt figures that it must be a living room or, perhaps, a library, so whoever it is that he's about to meet must still be awake.

He's almost half-way through the garden when there is a sound somewhere to his right and Geralt instinctively snaps his head towards it, ready for anything that might be hiding in the tall rose bushes but, to his relief, the creature that steps out of its hiding place is not a ghoul or a foglet but a large dog.

It steps out onto the path in front of the witcher, blocking the way, and growls at him, low and protective, teeth bared and dark eyes directed straight at Geralt. It doesn't seem aggressive and it makes no move towards the witcher but Geralt still knows that he won't be able to make it another step without the animal moving from simply warning him to protecting its owners.

The dog barks at him, high and loud - the way hunting dogs bark to attract their master's attention - and Geralt already raises his hand to cast an Axii, knowing that otherwise, the animal will not let him pass, when the front door of the mansion opens and a man steps outside, a lit candle in his hand.

"Asra?" he calls, and the dog's ears perk up. "What is it, girl?"

He comes closer, head tilted slightly to the side as he studies his late-night guest.

Geralt clears his throat, still making no move towards the mansion or the man in front of him, the dog separating them.

"I apologize for the intrusion," he says, words carefully measured. "My horse is tired and I am unfamiliar with these places, I don't know where it is that we could stop if not here."

The man stops a few steps away from him, and this close, Geralt can see the features of his face. The tentative eyes, sparkling dark-blue in the flickering candlelight, the sharp jawline, the long lashes.

He cannot be older than twenty-five, Geralt thinks to himself.

"If you'd be so kind as to let me feed and water my horse, I'll be on my way before long, and won't disturb you any further," he says, not knowing if he should lower his head or not. "I will pay, of course."

The man in front of him stays silent for a moment, then reaches his hand out and beckons the dog closer, sinking his finger into the long fur on its head.

"You're hurt," he says, indicating at Geralt's shoulder with a move of his head.

Geralt shrugs it off, even though the pain is getting stronger by what seems like every minute. Up in the saddle, it was easier to ignore it.

"I dare not disturb you with that," he says. "I only need to give my horse some rest."

The man hums, averting his eyes and biting on the inside of his lower lip. For a few moments, there's silence, and Geralt already wants to apologise and leave but before he gets the chance, the man stops him.

"I'll open the stables if you let me bandage up those wounds," he says, a glint in his eyes.

Geralt opens his mouth, then closes it. There are a thousand different ways that he can see this going wrong. He could get lured into the house and robbed - or killed - he could get captured and never make it out or there could simply be a price to pay for the intrusion but there doesn't seem to be a choice.

And, he admits halfheartedly, there is something about the host that feels welcoming.

"Alright," he finally says. "If you insist."

The man smiles at that - bright and open, and gestures for Geralt to follow him.

With a little hesitation, the witcher whistles for Roach and, once the mare catches up with them, follows the man deeper into the garden, towards the stables.

"And what shall I call you, wayfarer?" the man asks, holding his hand out for Roach to sniff.

It's something about his voice, Geralt decides.

"Geralt," he says. "Of Rivia."

"Of Rivia?" the man echoes, another smile tugging on the corners of his lips. "I have never been that far South. Heard that the summers there are an absolute wonder."

He stops to bring the burning candle up to the lanterns at either side of the stable doors and turns to face Geralt again.

"I'm Julian."

***

The stables are pleasantly warm after the cold night air. Not even summers in the North are warm enough.

It's dark inside but Geralt can hear horses breathing in their sleep. By the sound alone, he counts five.

"And what is this lovely creature?" Julian asks, extending his hand towards Roach and getting his fingers into her forelocks when she doesn't object.

Strange, Geralt thinks, She usually bites at people she doesn't know.

"Roach," he says, sneaking a look around when his eyes adjust to the darkness. "Like the fish."

Julian hums and opens the door to the nearest stable, gesturing for Geralt to lead the horse inside.

"I'm afraid my stableman is already asleep but there is more than enough food in the feeder and I will get her some water in a minute," he says, patting the mare on the neck and watching Geralt undo her bridle. "She will be at her best tomorrow, you can trust me on that."

Geralt turns to him, hands stilling on the buckles of the saddle.

"Tomorrow?" he echoes.

Julian nods, the corners of his lips curling up in a soft smile.

"Surely, I cannot allow for you to travel through the night if there is a place for you to stay? What a horrible host that would make me!"

Geralt wants to objects, wants to say that it's unnecessary and that they'll be on their way once Roach is fed but somewhere deep in his heart, he knows that they both need proper rest. The pain in his shoulder keeps getting worse and if he doesn't sleep or at least meditate, it will grow unbearable by morning.

"That's very kind," he says finally. "Thank you."

He's still waiting.

Waiting for Julian to take a closer look at him and finally realise that he's a witcher. Waiting for him to say to get out and never come near his estate again. Like everyone always does.

But Julian doesn't, even as he raises his head and meets Geralt's eyes that he knows are glowing in the darkness, reflecting what little light there is.

"Come on," he says when Geralt sets the ammunition aside. "Let's get her some water and head inside, those wounds of yours seem pretty bad."

Geralt wants to say that it's nothing, that his regeneration with deal with it on its own after he gets some sleep but he knows that he'd already agreed to this, so he bites his tongue.

Julian leads him out of the stables and back into the garden, towards a well, the dog following closely at his side. It doesn’t seem to be afraid of Geralt, unlike most other animals that he comes across in towns or on the Path and he would almost question that but then again, it seems like a hunting dog, so maybe it's just used to protecting its master against any danger.

"What led you to these regions?" Julian asks, moving the heavy lid of the well with surprising ease, considering his slender figure. "Especially at this time of night."

Geralt feels like he should offer help with getting the water for Roach but he's not sure if that might be overstepping. After all, he's only a late-night guest.

"Work," he grumbles, tensing when the dog leaves Julian's side to come closer and stiff at him, its long nose reaching all the way to his waist. "I'm a hunter."

Julian chuckles and turns to him, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"A hunter with two swords behind his back and a silver medallion?"

Fuck.

"A monster hunter," Geralt adds quickly, telling himself that now it's doesn't count as a lie.

"A monster hunter," Julian echoes, getting the laces of his off-white shirt out of the way and slapping Geralt's hand away lightly when he finally decides to reach for the bucket full of water. "And what was it that you were hunting? A wyvern I've seen a couple of times in the last months?"

Geralt has not had his hands slapped away from anything in such a long time that for a second, his words fail him and he just stands there, looking at his glove like he's waiting for an imprint of Julian's fingers to appear on the dark leather.

"Nekkers," he finally says when it doesn't. "Uh, got a contract in a town a couple of hours from here."

Julian sets the lid of the well back into place and clicks his tongue at the dog for it to stop sniffing at Geralt's armour.

"Sorry for that," he says, turning to walk back towards the stables, Geralt following him a few steps behind. "She's a little distrustful towards strangers, especially at night. But she won't do you any harm."

Geralt isn't particularly scared of the dog because even if it were to bite him, his armour would protect him from the teeth. And even if he wasn't wearing any armour at all, well, he'd had injuries much worse than a dog bite. But it does feel a little reassuring that he's on the dog's good side and doesn't have to think about that, to begin with.

"You got a contract a few hours away but the nekkers are all the way up in these lands?" Julian asks. "Seems a little far to me."

The witcher hums in agreement and, when the man remains silent, realises that that doesn't seem to be a sufficient answer.

"The baron that hired me has croplands here," he says, even though it's not true and he's got no idea why the people in town needed him to deal with a nekker nest so far away. With contracts like that, questions weren't really relevant, all that went into account was the coin. "Nekkers killed a couple of his workers and he wanted me to get rid of them."

He doesn't even know why he chooses to lie but Julian doesn't seem to doubt his words, pouring the water out into a basin in Roach's stable and running his hand through his mane before closing the door.

"She will be just fine here," he assures, noticing the concern in Geralt's eyes. "Come on, let me take you inside. I don't imagine a nekker wound should be left unattended."

***

Geralt follows Julian to the front door and when the man pushes it open, hesitates for a split second before stepping into the mansion.

The hallway is dark, only partially illuminated by the warm flickering light from one of the rooms to the right - the same light that Geralt saw through the windows.

The dog follows them into the house, brushing over Geralt's leg as it sneaks past him and disappears somewhere in the other end of the seemingly endless hallway. It's almost ominous, how it just gets lost in the darkness despite the winter-white fur.

"Are you hungry?" Julian asks, leading Geralt into the room with the fireplace that turns out to be a library, just as he'd suspected.

Geralt is hungry, though it's only now that he realises that. The last time he ate was just after the break of dawn, when he'd just set out and all the tavern was able to offer him was a loaf of pumping bread because it was still too early and the breakfast wasn't yet ready.

"I'm not," he says, still.

This is already too much, he knows. All he needed was food and water for Roach but now he's staying in the mansion overnight and all of that is already more than he's comfortable with. Asking for anything else would be even worse.

"Stubborn, aren't you?" Julian says, narrowing his eyes at the witcher like he wants to see if he's going to break under that gaze.

When Geralt doesn't, the younger man just nods with a soft smile.

"If you change your mind, let me know."

In the warm light of the fireplace, he looks even younger than he did outside, and Geralt catches himself looking at Julian for a little too long as he moves the logs in the hearth to light the fire a little brighter. His eyes turn out to be bright-blue rather than dark, like cornflowers.

"I can wake my majordomo up for him to take a look at your shoulder," he says, indicating at an armchair for the witcher to sit in with a move of his wrist. "Or I can do that myself. If you don't mind."

Geralt really doesn't know why he even cares but if all he has to do is sit still and let the man bandage him up, it's not a big price to pay for the opportunity to sleep in the safe warmth of a home rather than outside, waking up from every little noise.

"It's your call," he says, finally.

Julian nods, resting his hands on his hips and giving Geralt a nearly evaluating look.

"Stay here for just a minute," he asks. "I will get a clean cloth and be right back."

The witcher hums an affirmative and Julian disappears in the hallway, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

It feels strange, being here. The expensive carpets on the floors, the paintings and tapestries on the walls, the endless rows of books on polished shelves that climb all the way up to the ceiling, not to mention the overall size of the mansion.

Geralt feels like he doesn't belong here, like as much as a touch from him, bloodied and dirty after a long hunt, is going to ruin the soft leather of the armchair he's been pointed to along with everything in close proximity.

There is a very big part of him that wants to leave, just meditate somewhere in the garden while he waits for Roach to have her rest but there is also a part of him - smaller but persistent - that wants to stay.

It's something about Julian, he decides. Something about the ease that he holds himself with, like he's not afraid of the witcher. Not something that Geralt sees very often. Especially after Blaviken.

He gets so lost in his thoughts that he almost fails to notice soft footsteps from somewhere behind him and when he turns, he's greeted with a wet press of a dog's nose against his palm. It sniffs at him thoroughly and with interest, and Geralt allows for it, keeping still as not to scare the animal away. It seems a little strange to him that the dog is inspecting him again but what does he know about dogs, really.

It also seems to be bigger, somehow, because back in the garden its nose could only reach his waist but now it's sniffing at the buckles that go over his ribcage. Or maybe it just seems like it and it did the same exact thing back in the garden.

"Ah, I see you're making new friends," Julian smiles, reappearing in the room, a towel in one hand and a deep dish filled with water - in the other.

"I suppose, she likes me more now that I'm not an intruder in your garden," Geralt chuckles and he's surprised to learn that he means it.

"Oh?" Julian breathes, gesturing for the witcher to sit down. "Oh, no, Asra is upstairs. This is Lucio, her brother. They look identical, I know, he's just a few inches taller."

Fuck, Geralt thinks, Of course, he's got two dogs and not one but fucking shapeshifting.

Reluctantly, he lowers himself into the chair, watching Julian place a stool beside it to sit down himself, all of his appliances laid out on the nightstand by the chair. Aside from the towel and the dish with water, there are also bandages and a curved needle for stitches along with some thread.

"You know how to stitch wounds?" Geralt asks before he can stop himself.

Julian hums an affirmative, waiting for the witcher to undo the buckles of his armour and set it aside. The left sleeve of his worn black shirt is torn where the nekker's claws had slashed against his arm and the fabric is soaked with blood.

Julian wrinkles his nose but remains otherwise unperturbed.

"I'm afraid you'll have to take the shirt off, too," he says softly when Geralt makes no move to do so for some time. "Promise I won't look."

To reaffirm his words, Julian puts a hand over his eyes and Geralt can finally feel some of the tension bleed away from his shoulders. He tugs the shirt off over his head, wincing when the fabric, trapped in the wounds with dried up blood, rips away from them, re-opening the cuts. Just before Julian opens his eyes again, Geralt casts a Quen over himself to partially stop the bleeding.

"Not as bad as I thought," the younger man says, examining his shoulder before gently pressing a towel, warm from the water, to the wounds.

Geralt watches the white fabric turn red and bites his tongue.

"I should have a shirt that will fit you," Julian adds, wringing the towel out over the bowl before bringing it back where it was.

"That won't be necessary," Geralt replies quickly, averting his eyes to look into the fire because if he doesn't, he feels like it's going to get overwhelming again. "I've put you through enough trouble."

The younger man sighs, amused rather than annoyed, his warm breath ghosting against Geralt's damp skin. The witcher expects to feel his eyes on him, lured in by the scars, just like it always is when someone sees him shirtless but Julian remains concentrated on his task, paying to mind to anything else. And it's somehow both worse and better at the same time. Geralt used to people staring - some with interest but most - with disgust - used to them nitpicking at every scar, every mark left on him by claws or fangs or swords, re-opening them again and again but Julian doesn't seem interested in them. His eyes don't flick over Geralt's chest and abdomen once.

"The guest rooms are in the West wing, on the third floor," Julian says, apparently having decided on letting the shirt go. "I will take you there once I'm done with your shoulder and leave you to rest, unless you've changed your mind about dinner. Would you prefer a room with the windows facing the garden or the forest?"

Geralt wants to say that he's going to be happy with anything he's given but Julian looks at him expectantly and that makes him feel like that answer will not be considered enough. Perhaps even impolite.

"The forest," he makes himself say.

And then, after a moment:

"Do you live here alone?"

It's not that he necessarily wants to talk but he doesn't want to sit in silence, either. It feels strange not to say anything. Rude, even.

Julian shrugs with one shoulder, flicking his eyes up for just a second to look at the witcher.

"Depends on how you look at it," he says, setting the blood-stained towel aside and reaching for the needle and thread. "My majordomo lives here, in the mansion, and a little further into the garden, there is a house where the gardeners, the housekeepers and everyone else that works for me resides. So technically, no, I don't live here alone. But if you mean family, then yes."

Geralt winces when the needle pierces his skin for the first time but the warmth of Julian's fingers almost makes up for it.

"Hm," he grunts, non-committal.

He almost wants to ask why, ask how does he even live in a place this big with only the servants and the dogs to keep him company but once again, he bites his tongue.

"It's not as lonely as it seems," Julian says after a moment, like he'd read his thoughts. "I have quite a lot of guests. Some of them are friends, some of them are just wayfarers, like you. You're the second witcher that I've had here."

Geralt perks up at that without even realising.

"It was a couple of years ago," Julian goes on, the interest on the witcher face clearly not hidden well enough. "He'd been hunting a griffin and, sadly, lost his horse in the process. As you know, the nearest town big enough to sell horses is hours away from here, and though he knew the general direction of it, making that way on foot wasn't something that could be done in one day, especially with a griffin head strapped to you. So when he stumbled across the mansion late at night - just like you - what could I do but let him in?"

Geralt chuckles, low in his throat.

"It's not very wise to let strangers into your home like this," he says because he cannot help himself. "Especially at night. And especially witchers."

The younger man just waves at him dismissively, a smile softening the features of his face.

"Yes, well-" he says, flicking his eyes up once more before going back to his stitches. "I'm still alive, am I not? And currently helping you stay that way, as well."

His warm fingers ghost over Geralt's skin as he tightens the last stitch and sets the needle aside, studying his work critically.

"Besides," he adds, bringing the towel to the witcher's shoulder once again to wipe off thin trails of blood before reaching for the bandages. "He was very nice. Named Aiden. He was the one who taught me to stitch wounds."

The name doesn't ring a bell, so Geralt takes a guess:

"A Griffin?"

Julian chuckles and shakes his head, wrapping the bandages around Geralt's shoulder with admirable precision. The voluminous sleeves of his chemise keep getting in the way but he doesn't roll them up. Geralt chooses not to mention it.

"A Cat," the younger man says. "I know, I know, I had the same reaction when I saw the medallion."

He tucks the ends of the bandage under one of the layers and pats Geralt on the arm, reaching for the towel to wipe the blood off his hands.

"There you go," he says, getting up. "Good as new."

Geralt rolls his shoulders and, to his delight, the bandages stay just as they are. He gets up, reaching for his shirt, ignoring the blood and the tears on the sleeve.

"Thank you."

Julian's eyes flick over him just once, from the waist of his trousers and all the way to his shoulders, and then he's averting his eyes with a warm smile.

"Of course."

It's getting very late, probably closer to dawn than it is to midnight and when Geralt think that he could've still been on the road at this time, there is a little shiver that runs up his spine.

"Are you sure I can't offer you something to eat?" Julian asks, blinking a little owlishly.

He's clearly only half-awake now that he's done with Geralt's shoulder and so is the witcher, so even though some food would've been nice, he still shakes his head.

"Alright," the younger man agrees, though he doesn't seem particularly thrilled about it. "In the morning, then."

***

Julian takes him through the long hallways of the mansion, illuminating the way with a flickering light of a candle, Lucio following him closely, his white fur brushing against Julian's thigh.

When they get to the wide staircase, Asra appears from behind it and joins them.

"Do they follow you everywhere?" Geralt asks, because in the silence, he feels like the mansion is never going to end.

"Oh?" the younger man breathes, turning to look at the witcher. "Oh, the dogs? Yeah, they're always somewhere close."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Geralt thinks that those dogs are probably worth hundreds of crowns each, maybe even thousands. When the cold moonlight touches their fur, they don't even look real.

In some strange way, the entire mansion feels that way.

But Geralt tells himself that he's just tired and in the morning, it's going to feel different. New places always seems strange the first night, he'd spent enough years on the Path to know that.

They make it up the stairs onto the third floor and turn into the West wing, walking down yet another endless hallway until they get to the very end of it, where Julian stops and opens a door to the right, inviting Geralt inside with a move of his hand.

"I do hope you find this room comfortable," he says, staying in the hallway and keeping the dogs at his side. "Join me for breakfast in the morning?"

Geralt knows that he should leave as soon as he can, knows that this is already so much more than he'd initially asked for but before he can stop himself, he already agrees.

"Would love to."

Julian shines with a smile and somehow, he almost looks relieved.

"Alright," he nods, handing Geralt the burning candle and turning to leave. "Goodnight then, Geralt."

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier big bang #geralt of rivia #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #the drug the dark the light the flame #my writing #calton writes

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army-author · 4 years ago

Text

jimin scenario | in for a treat

❝ as you grow up together, you and jimin celebrate halloween in your own special way. with the passing of the years, your relationship continues to blossom while the trees shed their leaves... ❞

➝ prompt: i’ve never celebrated halloween before, but it’s your favourite holiday. you’re determined to make my first halloween the most exciting holiday ever. i’m loving the enthusiasm, but isn’t this a bit much?

➝ pairing: slytherin jimin x slytherin reader

➝ genre: fluff, hogwarts au, friends to lovers

➝ requested by anon | 8.5k words

➝ warnings: implied smut

➝ author’s note: sorry that this is so late. i had this written before halloween, but never got the time to edit it until now, so apologies if it’s weird reading such a heavily halloween themed fic in november. i hope everyone enjoys it, regardless! i think i may have strayed a little from the prompt, but hopefully all the fluffy moments are worth it!

Halloween was never a holiday that interested you. At least that’s how it used to be…

Growing up with a non-magic family, the festivities had never seemed that interesting. You couldn’t figure out the appeal of a holiday dedicated to something you didn’t believe in. The ghosts, the ghouls, the whispers of magic on the air – it all appeared juvenile. Of course, you would buy the occasional pack of sweets for the school children that scurried around the neighbourhood, demanding treats on every doorstep. However, you never went out to celebrate yourself, uninterested in the costumes, the decorations, or the general air of mischief that circulated that that time of year. You had no rose-tinted nostalgia for the holiday, and no desire to dress up or carve Jack-o-lanterns.

All this changed when you met Jimin.

When you had first received your letter from Hogwarts, both you and your parents had been shocked. You had no idea up that magic even existed, and yet, there was the letter in your hands, screaming the contrary to all you believed. A well constructed prank? The look on your parents’ faces suggested otherwise. Your parents explained to you that magic truly did exist, and while they themselves were non-magical, one of your aunts was actually a witch, who had also attended Hogwarts in her youth.

With that revelation, your life flipped on its head.

After a summer spent pleading with your parents to let you go, you finally arrive at Hogwarts, filled with wonder at the new world you’ve uncovered, and amazed that your family were able to hide this from you for so long. Sorted into Slytherin, you find yourself surrounded by witches and wizards who are already familiar with this alien lifestyle – students who’ve been watching Quidditch matches since they were babbling babies, and who are already familiar with simple spells. New and alone, you find yourself estranged from your peers.

That is, until your first Halloween at Hogwarts.

✽ ✽ ✽

[First Year – October 31st]

On the night of October the thirty first, the girls in your dormitory are preparing for the Halloween feast, with excited chatter, tying up their hair, putting on their robes, and admiring themselves in the mirror.

You sit on the edge of your bed in your robes, swinging your feet, and feeling out of place, like a pulled muscle. You’re unsure of the customs of witches and wizards, and are sweating at the thought of messing up tonight, doing something that will instantly single you out as muggle born. Nerves clamouring as you listen to two of the girls, Padma and Beatrix, whispering about all the possible treats you’ll be served that evening, all of which you’ve never even heard of before, you decide that waiting around in the dorm is just making you feel worse. You get up and walk out of the dormitory, heading to the common room. You were hoping to avoid the commotion, but soon realise your mistake, having only walked further into the confusion. A group of boys are huddled in the corner, helping each other with their ties, while a gaggle of girls giggle in the other corner, glancing at the older boys who walk past with robes billowing. Some prankster has set off a magical miniature firework which crackles dangerously close to the green tapestries hanging from the wall.

You swallow, feeling all the more daft as you watch, excluded, while the rest of your peers enjoy themselves.

“Hello.” Startled, you spin around to the source of the voice.

A boy stands in front of you. You recognise him to be Park Jimin from your potions class. You haven’t spoken to him at all, but have often noticed him – for his undeniably friendly demeanour and his distinctive laugh which always travels around the potions class, followed by the shout of “Park Jimin, and Kim Taehyung! What is so dreadfully funny that you deign it appropriate to interrupt our lesson?”

Unsure if Jimin is speaking to you, you glance around to see if there’s anyone else, and then, suddenly mute, point to yourself.

Jimin laughs. “Yes, I’m talking to you.”

“Oh… Uh, right… sorry. Hi.”

“I didn’t mean to spook you,” Jimin says, a smile playing on his lips at your lost expression, “You just looked a little lonely, so I thought I’d put you out of your misery.

He must have noticed the alarm passing across your features, as he quickly continues, “Oh, Merlin, that sounded like I was planning your assassination or something! I just meant, I wanted to talk to you, since I didn’t want you to be by yourself.”

You laugh, “Well, thank you. I must have looked pretty pathetic, huh?”

“No… well… maybe.”

You open your mouth in mock shock, and then shrug, “It must be super obvious I’m new to all of this.” You gesture to the robe you’re wearing, and clear your throat, lowering your voice, “I’m… from a muggle family.”

You know that wizards and witches from muggle families are a lot more happily accepted by the magical community than they used to be, but it is whispered that some Slytherins still cling to elitist ideals about pure blood magic wielders. You had been both surprised and nervous when you were sorted into Slytherin on your first day. Despite this, you feel at ease explaining to Jimin, who’s currently smiling at your with a friendly curiosity.

“Ah,” Jimin nods, “This must all be very strange for you then.”

“Yep. It wasn’t until my letter from Hogwarts that I even believed that magic was real!”

Jimin’s eyes go wide, “I can’t even imagine what that must be like.”

“On top of that,” you continue on, your barriers breaking down as you easily chat with Jimin, “My family were never really into anything that even hinted at magic or the supernatural, so we never celebrated Halloween!”

You didn’t think Jimin’s eyes could widen further, but he manages to surprise you. “You what?”

A blush rises to your cheeks, and your eyes dart to the floor, suddenly embarrassed. “Yeah… not once.”

“Well, not to worry,” Jimin says, “Look at it this way – this is going to be the best Halloween of your life.”

You can’t argue with that.

“You’re in for a treat,” Jimin assures you, and you grin.

Around you, the crowd of Slytherin students have begun to meander out of the common room. “It must be time for the feast to start,” Jimin is bouncing on his toes in excitement. Feeding off his energy, you cannot help but feel excited yourself, despite not knowing what to expect at all. You follow him down the maze of corridors that make up the old school, leading you towards the Great Hall.

Entering through the grand doors, your mouth involuntarily falls open. Carved pumpkins float above the tables, casting a delicate glow over the array of delicious treats on display. There are plates piled high with tender meats, savoury pies and glazed vegetables. Sweets of all varieties sit in carved pumpkin bows, overflowing with colour.

You follow Jimin to the Slytherin table, where he offers for you to sit next to him. Across from you, at the Hufflepuff table, Jimin’s friend, Taehyung, waves at the two of you frantically.

Jimin grins and waves back, before turning his attention to you. “Well? First impressions?”

“This is all so amazing,” you gush, still transfixed by the wonderful foods piled in front of you. A mixture of delicious scents sing in your nostrils.

You wait patiently while the headmaster rumbles through his speech, welcoming each and every one of you to the feast. You’re salivating when you are finally allowed to start on the food. Despite knowing you should start with the savoury food first, your eyes are drawn, irresistibly, to the sweets. You reach for a handful of jellybeans from one one the plates in front of you. Just as you stuff a handful into your mouth, JImin catches sight of you and begins shaking his head vigorously in warning.

Too late. A cacophony of foul tastes hit your tongue. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to be tasting, but it is not good. Eyes watering, you try not to gag.

“Here, here!” Jimin hands you a napkin, and you discreetly spit out the barely chewed mouthful, folding the napkin over a few times, hiding your faux pax in shame.

“What on God’s green earth was that?” you ask, hurrying to take a sip of water.

“Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans,” Jimin explains , “They’re well known, but I guess you haven't grown up with wizard snacks… Basically, eating one is a gamble. You could get a delicious one. Or you could get an absolutely disgusting flavour. They’re made to cover any possible flavour under the sun. Some of the worst include skunk’s spray and vomit.”

“So that’s what that was...” You try not to think of it, despite the ghost of bitterness haunting your tongue.

Jimin chuckles, “I thought you were being incredibly brave eating so many all at once…”

“I’m new to all of this,” you remind him. Having regained your composure somewhat, you give him a nudge, “I dare you to taste one too. Just so I’m not alone in making a complete fool of myself.”

Jimin grins, “Okay, I’m up for a dare.” He roots around in the bowl, picking out a red one, which he pops in his mouth. “Mmm… cherry.”

You frown, “That’s cheating. You must have known red would be good!” You pick up a red one yourself and place it on your tongue, only to have the disgusting taste of liver clamber across your taste buds. You don’t need to tell Jimin how disgusting this bean is. Your face says it all, as Jimin begins laughing. You begin searching for the napkin again, but Jimin says, “No, no, you’ve committed. You gotta swallow now.”

You open your eyes wide, begging, but he continues, “I dare you.”

Your brows furrowing in effort; it takes all your strength not to retch as you swallow. “That’s not fair,” you say, “How come I got so unlucky?”

Jimin shrugs, “There’s about a fifty percent chance you’ll get something nice.”

You cross your arms on the table, “I still think you must have cheated somehow.”

“How about you try something tasty instead?” Jimin gestures to the other nice looking foods in front of you.

Your brow crinkles, “How am I supposed to know there aren’t other weird foods you wizards eat?”

Jimin begins spooning things onto your plate, “Don’t worry, these are all good. Cross my heart.”

You watch him pile foods higher and higher until you beg, ‘Stop, there’s no way I can eat that much!”

“Sure, but you gotta at least try a little bit of everything,” Jimin encourages, so you pick up a fork and make your way around the plate, sampling every flavour. You start with the meats, which are just as tender as they look. The chicken melts in your mouth, and the gammon is sweet and salty in the best possible way. The vegetables come next. You’ve never been a big fan of vegetables, but these could make you rethink that stance. The carrots are sweet, glazed with a honey dressing, and the parsnips are well seasoned. But the main stars of the show are the desserts. A myriad of flavours hit your senses, each one more delicious than the last. Sweet spices, creamy caramels, and smooth frostings all harmonising a ballad on your tongue, making you squirm in your seat with joy.

“Are they good?” Jimin asks, and you nod enthusiastically, mouth still full. “What’s your favourite?”

You point at one of the pastries as you swallow the last bite, “It’s all good, but I think this one is the best.

“Mmm, apple and redcurrant tart,” Jimin nods in approval, “That one’s good.”

There’s still so much food piled on your plate, but you’re too full to take another bite. You lean back, and sigh contentedly, gazing up at the starry sky that spreads out above you, stars winking down.

“I may be new to Halloween, but I could certainly get used to this,” you say.

“We’ll just have to try and make next year all the more exciting then,” Jimin says, and you give him a grin.

“Challenge accepted.”

✽ ✽ ✽

[Second Year – October 28th]

“We’ve got to make this Halloween better than the last year!”

Jimin is sat cross legged under a crooked tree, leaves just staring to turn orange and gold. You’re standing next to him, well wrapped up, not enjoying the cold that autumn brings with it, as you stamp your numb feet and rub your frozen hands together.

“Oh yeah,” Taehyung grins up at you from his spot next to Jimin, “You don’t normally celebrate Halloween, do you?”

You shake your head, at him, and his grin grows all the wider, and all the more rectangular.

“How do we top last year?” Jimin wonders, while Taehyung struggles with opening a chocolate frog pack.

“You don’t have to try and top it,” you say, finally taking a seat next to Jimin, and immediately regretting it as cold seeps into your rear. You pull your cloak around you. “Last year was fun. And next year can be fun too...”

“We could throw a party!” Taehyung burst out, interrupting you.

“Would we even be able to host one?” you ask.

Jimin’s brows are furrowed in thought. “That could be a good idea,” he says, and Taehyung smiles in pride, as he finally gets the chocolate frog pack open, only to watch as the chocolate frog hops away, finally freed from its cardboard cage.

“No, come back,” Taehyung digs in his pocket for his wand, but It’s already too late, the frog has hopped into the bushes, out of sight. Taehyung sighs, then digs in the pack for the card. “Hmm, Salazar Slytherin,” he says, staring at the card inside, “I already have him.”

“I don’t,” Jimin pipes up, “I’ll trade you the rest of my sherbet lemons for him.”

Taehyung nods, and you watch the two boys exchange, wondering what all the fuss is about. Jimin shows you the card, where a man poses proudly. You’ve got used to seeing pictures that move on paper, but you’re still always mildly impressed.

“You’re still missing the important detail that we don’t have anywhere to host a party,” you point out, and Taehyung shrugs, as he pops a sherbet lemon in his mouth:

“We can just use a common room. The Hufflepuff common room is close to the kitchen, and you don’t need a password or anything to get in. I bet I could get some of my Hufflepuff friends to help set up.”

“When would we do this?” you ask, giving in reluctantly to Taehyung’s infectious excitement.

“We can do it after the Halloween feast,” Taehyung suggests, and Jimin nods in agreement.

“This sounds great,” he says, glancing at you in anticipation, “What do you say?”

“I’m in.”

The two boys cheer.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Second Year – October 31st]

The next few days pass in a flurry, with Jimin and Taehyung passing notes around the classrooms, letting other students know of your plans. As only students from their respective houses are normally allowed in their house common room, each student is told to keep the plans a secret from the professors.

As the evening finally arrives, Jimin is a ball of energy, struggling to contain his smile, as you walk down to the Great Hall for the feast.

All the way through the feast, you can’t help but think about what’s to follow, excited about the party that is in store later.

As soon as the feast ends, you follow Jimim along with the few other Slytherins who are going o the party, walking with the rest of the Slytherins, heading back towards the Slytherin common room. At one of the turnings on the way, you and Jimin make a left off the normal route, and begin to make your way back, following stairs down to the basement where the Hufflepuff common room is located. Reaching the door, you give the secret knock you had arranged with Taehyung beforehand.

His head pops around the door, a conspiring grin on his face as he lets you in. The Hufflepuff common room is round, with circular windows close to the ceiling which give a view of the darkness outside. House plants line the shelves of the room, some dripping their leaves down the earthy walls. Taehyung and his friends have added orange and gold streamers, with carved Jack-o-lanterns grinning from the alcoves and crevices.

“Ta-da,” Taehyung spreads out his arms, spinning around to show off his – and his friends’ – hard efforts.

“This is amazing, Taehyung,” you tell him, and he gives a wide smile:

“There’s more, come take a look at this!”

You let him lead you and Jimin over to a table stacked high with sweets. “I managed to scrounge these from the kitchens.” He gives a wink, “This is why it’s good to be friendly with the cooks. Hope you saved room.”

You hadn’t saved much, and you eye the sweets sadly, afraid that any more food would make you pop. There’s even apple and redcurrant tart. You cast it a wistful look, before letting yourself be distracted by Jimin and Taehyung.

Slowly, other students begin to trickle into the common room, some of them older students, most in the same year as you. Music begins to float from a corner of the room, and so, you grab Taehyung and Jimin, lading them to the centre of the room, where a few other students have started dancing.

Swaying in time with the music, you laugh as Taehyung and Jimin goof around in front of you, clapping along to the beat. The air is filled with happy chatter. You drink in the atmosphere, swept along by the other’s enthusiasm.

Taehyung notices a few of his friends from Hufflepuff and waves, before going over to say, “Hello”, leaving you alone with Jimin on the makeshift dance-floor.

You suddenly feel a little awkward, dancing alone with Jimin. You keep on swaying, smiling over at him every so often. His eyes are often on the floor, his dancing slowing to a gentle sway, but occasionally his eyes connect with yours before flicking down to the floor again. Perhaps he’s feeling just as awkward as you are.

All of a sudden, there’s a shout, and the music cuts out. You halt, Jimin frozen at your side, while the other students twist their heads, looking around, trying to figure out what’s going on.

“What is the meaning of this?” Above the other heads of the students, you can just about make out the head of one of the tall Hufflepuff prefects. “You do realise that there are some students who are trying to sleep after the feast, right?” He strides forward, the other students parting in waves before him. “I think I see some non-Hufflepuff students here as well,” he comments as he passes by you. You pull your cloak around you, trying the mask the Slytherin colours on your jumper. “I have half a mind to report everyone in this room to the headmaster.”

“Aw come on,” one of the other prefects, a boy you recognise as Jung Hoseok follows behind his peer, “These kids are just having fun,” he places an arm on the other prefects shoulder. “Let’s just say it was a mistake – a learning experience – and move on. I’m sure it won’t happen again.” He gives a wink to Taehyung, who’s stood across from you, trying to look guilty.

“Alright,” the prefect snaps, “But if I hear even a single whiff of another party being held in this common room, I will march each and every pupil responsible down to the headmaster’s office myself, mark my words.”

With that, the party disperses – very quickly. Streamers are swept away with the flicking of wands, and the candles in the Jack-o'-lanterns instantaneously snuff out.

Grabbing Jimin by the sleeve, you both make a bee-line for the exit, giving Taehyung a reluctant wave as you leave.

“Well, that wasn’t as successful as I hoped,” Jimin whispers, as you make your way down the corridor, heading back towards the Slytherin dorms.

“Maybe not,” you say, “But it was fun. Did you see that prefect’s face? I thought he was going to explode with rage.”

Jimin snorts with laughter. “Sorry it wasn’t the best of Halloween experiences.”

“What do you mean?” you say, “It’s gotta be one of the best. At least top-three.”

“You haven’t even celebrated three Halloweens yet!”

“Exactly. So it’s been one of the best.”

“Well, we’ll just have to top it again next year.” Jimin decides.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Third Year – October 28th]

Moving into your third year you find yourself gifted with a little more freedom around the school. It’s the year that you’re allowed to visit Hogsmeade, and you’re an uncontainable ball of energy when the weekend closest to Halloween rolls around, marking the first date that the third years are allowed to make their way down to the all-wizarding village.

On the Saturday, you and Jimin meet up with Taehyung on the steps outside Hogwarts, and make your way down to the village. All the way JImin is talking excitedly about how he’s planning on one-upping the Halloween festivities from last year.

“We can’t have another part like last year,” Taehyung says, “No way am I willing to get us all in trouble again.”

“I know,” Jimin sighs, “But we’ve gotta do something exciting, right?”

The topic of Halloween soon fades away as you finally reach Hogsmeade. The village street is blanketed by leaves in red and orange, with cheery lights shining from the windows of shops, giving a cosy contrast to the drab autumnal sky.

“Where do we go first?” Taehyung asks, and you and Jimin share a look, before you both point to the sweets shop, Honeydukes.

“Do you guys think about anything other than your stomachs?” Taehyung asks, following after you, as you rush for the cosy looking shop, nestled under a crown of fallen leaves that adorn its low roof. Your eyes widen as you enter, drinking in the view of the magical sweets packed in jars from floor to ceiling. You pick out sherbet lemons, Jimin’s favourite, and he buys a packet of apple and redcurrant tarts from the pastry display. He shares the still warm pastries with you as you exit back into the cold air, and debate where to go next. Taehyung is eager to visit Zonko’s Joke shop, while Jimin needs to visit Ceridwen’s Cauldrons to get a replacement cauldron after an unfortunate incident in your last potions lesson involving an explosion and a very angry potions teacher. You make your way around the village, stopping in at each shop you want in turn, before finally stopping at the Three Broomsticks where Jimin offers to buy the three of you butterbeers.

As he leaves the table, Taehyung gives you a look that you struggle to interpret. “Looks like Jimin is super excited for your third Halloween.”

You laugh, “He’s more excited than I am.”

“Well sure, but he wants to impress you.”

“Huh?” you blush, not sure what Taehyung’s implying, “Nah, he just wants us all to have fun.”

“Yeah, but he wants you especially have fun,” Taehyung goes on.

“Well of course, I’m his friend.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “You aren’t normally this oblivious, are you? I can’t possibly be speaking to the same person who’s aced all her divination and dark arts tests this year. I am, in fact, speaking with a moron, who’s somehow possessed the body of my friend.”

“Come on Taehyung, stop being daft” you give him a shove from across the table, “What are you trying to say.”

“I’m saying that Jimin likes you,” Taehyung enunciates every word, “As. More. Than. A. Friend. And you’d have to be an idiot not to see it.”

You shake your head, perplexed. Before you can question Taehyung further, Jimin is standing at the table, trying not to spill the three butterbeers as he sets them down.

He squeezes into the space next to you, while Taehyung gives you a meaningful look, and you blush.

“Well, cheers to our first Hogsmeade visit,” Jimin raises up his mug, and you do the same, clicking your overflowing mug against his and Taehyung’s, trying not to slosh any more of the golden liquid down the side than is absolutely unavoidable.

You take a deep sip, letting the warmth seep from your mouth down to your stomach and out to the extremities of your body, ears to fingers to toes. “Oh man, that’s so good,” you say, eyes wide as you set down your mug, wiping at the froth that was left on your lips.

Taehyung and Jimin both nod in agreement, and you settle back comfortably on your chair, pondering Taehyung’s words, as your two friends begin to argue over whether chocolate frogs are actually a good snack, or if they’re only good for the collectible cards you get with them.

✽ ✽ ✽

By the time you leave the Three Broomsticks, the sky is beginning to darken, with orange coloured clouds crowding out the deep navy of the sky.

Jimin suddenly stops in his tracks, spinning around to face you: “I’ve just had a great idea!”

You wait, curious, edging him on with your raised brows:

“I have an idea how we can celebrate Halloween this year,” he continues. You and Taehyung’s silence is encouragement enough for him to continue. “We should go visit the Shrieking Shack. I mean… I know it’s a bit early for Halloween. But it’ll be the perfect haunted experience.”

An uncertainty pools in your stomach, cold and clammy, as you stare at the abandoned house that looms over Hogsmeade. It’s rumoured to be the most haunted house in Britain. You mull over the idea in your head. “Don’t you think it’s dangerous?”

When you first arrived in Hogwarts, you were startled at the sight of actual ghosts, which you had gone your whole life beleiving to be a superstition. The ghosts at Hogwarts were friendly, but ghosts haunting an old abandoned house… you weren’t so sure.

Jimin shrugs in response to your question. “Who knows.” Seeing you hesitation, he gives a tug on your sweater, “Come on. I’ll keep you safe if anything happens, I promise.”

Taehyung raises his hands in defeat, “Listen, I don’t think I’ll stay. It’s getting late, and I just remembered I have a divinations homework to finish. But you two should go have a look and find out if it’s really haunted!”

Before you can stop him, Taehyung is spinning on his heel, and heading back for Hogwarts. Not before he flashes you a quick wink, and you suddenly realise that he’s trying to give you some alone time with Jimin. Or maybe he’s trying to give Jimin some alone time with you. You’re not sure what to think, but you feel uncertainty digging its roots deep, planting you firmly on the spot - right beside Jimin. His presence is suddenly incredibly distracting, feeling his heat so close beside you, battling against the cold autumn evening. His breath billows clouds on the air, his dark eyes blinking curiously at you, pleading.

‘Alright, fine. Just a quick look!”

Jimin grins, and you allow him to pull you to the Shrieking Shack that stands, creaking, on its own, ostracised from the other buildings in Hogsmeade. The building is rounded off by a rickety fence, casting a shadow over you. A cold fear trickles down your back, but you steel yourself, determined not to make a fool of yourself in front of Jimin.

Jimin gives you a leg-up over the fence, before climbing over himself, and suddenly, there’s nothing separating you from whatever might reside in the house. A cold wind tugs at your hair and scarf, pulling away your frozen breath.

Your fingers are threaded through Jimin’s. You don’t remember grabbing him. He squeezes your fingers.

You walk forward together, slowly. At the door, Jimin murmurs a spell, and the door creaks open on unstable hinges. Inside, the house is dark, and the strong smell of mildew rises to meed your nostrils.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go in,” you whisper, trying to steady your shaking voice, “We’ve got close enough.”

“No, come on,” Jimin hisses, pulling you closer. Swallowing your fear, you follow after him, huddled close for comfort. The house feels colder than the outside breeze, and your fogged breath clouds your vision.

As you step further into the bowels of the house, your ears pick up on a hissing, muttering sound. Your freeze, paralysing fear sinking its claws into your spine, and Jimin pauses beside you, hand damp in your own. Straining your ears beyond the pounding of your own heart, you hear – yes, those are definitely voices.

Carefully, cautiously, Jimin leads you forward, down the corridor to the door that is partially open, where the voices emanate from. Pressing his finger to his lips, Jimin peers around the door to find…

A group of sixth years smoking cigarettes. As the door swings open, revealing you and Jimin, one of them glances up and then nudges the other one, “Hey, look what we got here.”

“Oi,” the other, who seems to be the more authoritative, stands up, “Scram.” He makes a grab for his wand, but you and Jimin don’t need any more prodding. Turning on your heels, you flee for the door.

You and Jimin don’t stop running until you reach the entrance to Honeydukes, shuddering out shaky laughter that fogs the cold air.

Jimin’s hand is still in yours, not having let go through the entire experience. You don’t comment as he keeps his fingers laced through yours as you walk back to Hogwarts.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Fourth Year – October 31st]

The school is abuzz this year. Your professors have decided to host a ball on Halloween night, which all of the older students are allowed to attend. It won’t just be any kind of ball, but a masquerade ball, in keeping with the tradition of wearing costumes for Halloween.

Excitement shoots through your veins as you get ready for the night. You’re incredibly happy with the dress which your parents had sent to Hogwarts. It’s purple with a skirt that flares out and shimmers in the light, seemingly changing colour dependant on the light that strikes it’s folds and frills, shifting through shades of blue and aquamarine. You take one last look at your hair in the mirror, tucking a stray strand behind your ear, before you put on your mask of purple lace, matching your dress.

Your roommate, Padma, helps you tie the silk ribbon keeping your mask in place, and gives you a smile. “You look amazing.”

Blushing, you glance down to the floor, unsure how to take the compliment. “Thanks, you too.”

Her face flushes with happiness before she walks away to help Beatrix with her dress. Satisfied with your appearance as you cast one last glance over your reflection, you make your way out into the Slytherin common room. From the common room window, you can see the full moon shining on the surface of the Hogwarts lake.

You spot Jimin, despite his mask, immediately. He’s wearing a dark suit, with a black shirt and tie, and a black mask to match. Sneaking up behind him where he’s standing with a group of other Slytherin boys, you give him a tap on the shoulder.

He turns around, and a smile spreads across his features, “Wow, look at you!” He picks you up and spins you around, while you squeak his arms. “You look amazing.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you giggle as he sets you down again, breathless.

You catch a flush of colour beneath his mask, and your mind flicks back to Taehyung, who’s been dropping hints that Jimin has a crush on you for most of the past year. You’ve been trying to ignore him, but you can’t help but notice the small hints Jimin gives out without meaning to. The thought of him crushing on you fills you with a warm, happy glow. It’s nice to feel liked, and you silently find yourself hoping – wishing – that it might actually be true.

Of course, you haven’t done anything to confirm it, not ready to put him – or yourself – on the spot. But moments like this make you all the more curious.

“Come on,” Jimin motions to you as the crowd of Slytherins begin meandering to the great hall.

You thread your fingers through his, and let him lead you along the corridors to the Great Hall, happiness fizzing pleasantly in your stomach at the touch of his hand in your own.

As you make your way into the Great Hall your breath leaves your lungs. Even after four years, when you think you’re used to all that magic has to offer, it throws another glittering spectacle your way. The entire hall is cloaked in a purple glow as the sky above your head opens up to the marvel of glowing colours from the northern lights. You know that the real sky won’t have the aurora borealis shining outside, yet it has somehow been summoned to light one room in Hogwarts castle. The whole hall is filled with sparkling streamers, and candles cast a warm glow against the cool lights shining from the sky that makes up the enchanted roof.

“Hey, look,” Jimin nudges you, “Your dress matches the sky.”

You look down at your dress, the purples and blues swirling in the seams of the material and smile. “Well it would be a shame not to go dancing when I look so good in this light,” you say, and Jimin grins, letting you lead him towards the centre of the hall, where a few other students have started dancing.

Holding onto Jimin’s arms, stronger than your remember, you spin around the dance floor, held close to his warmth. The sky above your head is a glittering shimmer of different colours, ghosting past your eyes, with your gaze fixed on Jimin. His face is mostly obscured by his mask, but his eyes are clear to you, fixed on your own - dark pools of emotion that you can reach, interpret, if you just give yourself one moment of vulnerability. If you just give yourself one shimmering moment of honesty.

Your eyes rip away from Jimin’s, your face blushing, unsure of the feelings that you’re encountering. You notice Taehyung in your periphery vision. He’s standing at the edge of the dance floor, with a mug of butterbeer in his hand. Normally, you know that he would run over to you and Jimin, a grin on his face and a greeting on his tongue, but he seems to sense the same shimmering uncertainty hovering between you and Jimin. As he stands quiet at the edge of the dance floor, he gives you a wink, and then weaves his way back into the crowd.

This is what he’s been trying to encourage all this time – one moment of vulnerable honesty, where both you and Jimin open up enough to realise what’s so obvious to anyone else. You’re tired of waiting for confirmation.

Tipping your chin up, you push your lips to his in a rush of courage, almost as if you had drunk Felix Felicis. You can feel surprise rolling through his body, as he keeps his hold on you. Slowly, easily, he melts into your kiss. His lips open to yours, and with a whirling head, you give yourself over to the desires you had been ignoring for so long, fingers finding purchase on the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Your nerves conduct a symphony of excitement as everything you had needed was understood and relinquished to you in that moment.

As you part, both breathless, both smiling, you say,“Shall we step outside – just to get some fresh air?”

Jimin follows your cue, with an “Absolutely,”, walking after you as you weave your way through the crowds, out the door of the Great Hall, and towards the exit of the castle. The air is cold as you step out, and your shiver in the gauze of your shimmering dress, beautiful, but useless at protecting against the chill.

Seeing you trembling, Jimin removes his blazer and places it over your shoulders. You breathe deeply, enjoying the fresh crisp edge in your lungs.

Outside, with the real stars shimmering above you, unmasked from the aurora borealis that shimmered in the Great Hall, you turn to Jimin. You remove your mask, glad to let the cool air fall onto your cheeks.

Jimin takes off his mask as well, and you rake your eyes over his expression, hunting for a hint of regret at the kiss you had shared. There’s nothing but joy in his face.

As the rest of the school parties inside, you and Jimin share your hearts out in the cold.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Fifth Year – October 31st]

Jimin is taking Halloween celebrations very seriously this year. After all – it’s not just Halloween, it’s also your anniversary. One year of being a couple.

That’s why, when the Halloween Feast ends, instead of heading back to the common room, he leads you out of the school, sneaking through back passages and hallways until you’re outside, with the brisk wind whipping your hair.

“Where are we going?”

Jimin keeps throwing you knowing glances, pushing his fingers to his lips.

Impatience bubbles below your skin, but you allow him to lead you on to the edge of the lake, where you find a spread of your favourite snacks and drinks on a checkered picnic blanket, surrounded by candles that suddenly flicker on with the murmur of a spell.

“I hope you saved room for desert like I told you to.”

“Wow, Jimin,” you kneel down on the blanket, absorbing the array he’s arranged. “This is wonderful!”

“I hoped you would like it,” you can barely see it, but in the candle light, you notice a faint blush on his cheeks.

“I love it,” you assure him, leaning across to give him a kiss on the cheek, and the blush deepens.

You allow yourself a few tastes of the of sweets that Jimin has provided, including the apple and redcurrant tart that is, magically, still warm, before lying back on the picnic blanket, snuggling up to Jimin, who provides an arm wrapped around you to fend off the chill.

As you stare up at the cloudless sky, with stars winking down at you, a wave of satisfaction spreads through your chest. You wish you could pause your life at this moment, bound by Jimin’s arms.

“Thanks for an amazing year, Jimin,” you murmur, and you feel his grip around you tighten a little, as he squeezes you.

“Thank you too. Here’s to many more.”

With no once but the stars watching down, you lean in to kiss him, pulling him closer. His body is firm and warm, a perfect distraction from the cold air that presses in from all other sides. After a year, you have so many emotions to share with him, so much love to give him.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Sixth Year - October 31st]

On the sixth year, your year group is allowed to go on a short school trip to a castle nestled in the mountains. The main goal of the school trip is learning of the history of some magical relics that were discovered around the area, as well as observing rare magical creatures that live in the area for your Care of Magical Creatures course.

The part you have been looking forward to the most is the Halloween celebrations. While you’ll be missing the normal Halloween feast, your teachers have allowed you your own room in the castle, where you can have a party with your year group.

The small room in the castle is cozy and cheerful, with a fire flickering in the hearth, and a tables piled high with food, making your mouth water and your eyes glisten.

When you and Jimin walk into the room together, your hand finds his, squeezing in excitement.

Taehyung walks up behind you, and throws an arm over each of your shoulders. “How are my favourite love-birds?”

Jimin laughs, “We’re good. You enjoying the school trip?”

“Sure… Although our group didn’t see anything exciting when we went orienteering. I swear the way the teachers spoke about it, I was certain that this place would be swarming with unicorns, But I suppose, even in areas where they’re more common… they’re still pretty rare.”

You bite your lip, not sure if telling Taehyung that the group you and Jimin were with managed to spot a young unicorn while you were out. Instead you say, “Isn’t this a nice change of pace from the normal Halloween feast?”

Taehyung looks around the room, a nostalgic smile on his face. “Yeah, it’s nice. Really nice... It’s strange to think that this is our penultimate year at school. It doesn’t feel that long ago we were just getting sorted into our houses.”

You feel Jimin’s squeeze your fingers. “Yeah, it’s going to be so strange when we have to leave,” he says.

“We’ll all stay friends when we leave Hogwarts though, right?” you say, and without any hesitation both Jimin and Taehyung answer - “Absolutely.”

✽ ✽ ✽

That night, you hear a knock on your dormitory door. Cracking it open, you peer out to find Jimin outside. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Jimin, you know we’re not meant to visit other students’ rooms at night,” you chide teasingly.

“I know, but I wanted to see you. Can I come in?” You peer up and down the corridor, but the entire hallway appears empty.

You nod, and let him in. The rooms you’ve been allocated at the castle are large, almost as big as the dorm rooms you’re assigned at Hogwarts, but you don’t have to share this one with other Slytherin girls. A large four-poster bed stands at the centre of the room, where you will be spending the night.

Excitement leaps up to your stomach as you realise that you’re alone in a bedroom with Jimin for the first time in a long time. Your professors are normally strict about students mingling in the dormitories at Hogwarts, so it’s difficult to get any intimate alone time.

You know the same thing is on Jimin’s mind, as his eyes fall to the bed. With a grin, you lead him over to soft mattress, frosted by the thick duvet. Pulling him under the covers, you wrap your arms around him, your lips finding his in the dark. As he gets lost in the heat of your body, you murmur your love to him, whispered into the empty darkness beyond the haven of your bed. You learn new ways to know him, discovering new parts of him. The night stretches out to infinity, wobbling, and then collapsing with your secretly shared ecstasy.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Seventh Year - October 27th]

As it’s your final year at Hogwarts, some of your year have been tasked with helping to organise events. Of course, Jimin offered to organise the Halloween Feast, but now, as the night creeps closer, you can see he is getting more and more nervous.

When he comes back to the common room after another planning meeting, his tension automatically translates for you with a sigh, as he flops onto one of the chairs and rubs his eyes.

“You doing okay?” you ask, although you know he’s not.

His hair flops over his furrowed brows as he hangs his head. “It’s fine. I just… I want to make this Halloween Feast the best it’s ever been, and I don’t know if it’s all going to come together the way I want...”

You make you way to the back of his chair, and begin to massage the tense muscles in his shoulders. “I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”

“But don’t you see?” Jimin looks up at you, straining his neck, “This is going to be the last Halloween Feast we have at Hogwarts. It’s got to be amazing! Or I’ll let you down.”

“No matter what, if I get to celebrate it with you, it’ll be amazing,” you reassure him, bending to plant a kiss on his forehead.

He smiles, and you feel his muscles relaxing against you. “Well, no matter what, you’ll be in for a treat, I promise.”

“I always am, when I get to spend all my days with you.” You plant a kiss on his lips this time, feeling him smile into you.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Seventh Year – October 31st]

The day of the Halloween Feast rolls around, and you meet Jimin in the common room, both dressed up, ready for the feast.

Jimin’s face melts into a soft smile, seeing you, with your hair tied back, and your gown billowing out around you as you run up to hug him. You can smell his cologne as you pull away from him, dizzying you, as it clings to your clothing – a reminder that he held you close.

“You ready for this?” you ask, and he gives you a nod, hand squeezing at your own.

You let him lead you down the hallways to the Great Hall. You take in every detail, knowing you’ve got a limited time left to appreciate the unique crevices of Hogwarts, with the twisting staircases, and the curious paintings. You’re not sure what will happen once you graduate. Will you have to go back to a non-magical life with your parents? Or will you get to stay in the world of magic, using the skills you’ve learnt in potion making, divination, and spell casting?

Jimin’s hand grips yours tightly, and you know he’s thinking of what will happen after you leave as well.

As you step into the Great Hall, your worries are quickly swept away.

The Great Hall has been completely transformed. Candles float in the air, burning flames of blue and orange, sparking up to the sky, which burns golden from the setting sun. Crystals dangle down from the ceiling, cascading light across the hall. The tables have strings of lights shining around them. At first glance they appear to be fairy lights, but when you look closer you realise they are actually specks of light floating on their own, like fireflies. Pumpkins sit on the table surrounded by flowers, and sprigs of ivy cascade down the table legs.

“You really outdid yourself,” you tell Jimin in a hushed tone of reverence, “This is beautiful.” He glows with pleasure as you sit down at the Slytherin table.

You feel a poke behind you, and turn in your seat to see Taehyung, who’s stopped on his way to the Hufflepuff table. He grins at you, “Amazing, whoever worked on this did an amazing job.” He grins at you, while Jimin flushes at the indirect complement.

Clasping a hand on Jimin’s shoulder, Taehyung says, “Good job, for real,” before he’s ushered along by some other Hufflepuffs who are trying to get to their seats.

The night seems to go by in a blur of dazzling lights and delicious food. You sit back in your chair, as a house elf comes around offering tea and mints after the dinner. “This was amazing,” you tell Jimin. “I’m sad it’s our last Halloween at Hogwarts. I want to do this all again”

Jimin nods, “It doesn’t need to be the last amazing Halloween we have together though.”

You smile. “Of course not.”

“Hey,” Jimin shuffles in his chair, “I know you might want to go to university after this, but… what would you say if, after all that… we moved in together?”

You blush, thinking it over. You and Jimin have been together for so long, it only seems like a natural conclusion that you would end up together after this. Yet, it seems difficult to imagine what it will be like to be with Jimin outside of Hogwarts, in a hazy future. All you know is that if Jimin’s a part of your life, then the days will be bright.

Without giving it any more thought, knowing exactly what you want, you say, “Yes. I’d like that very much.”

✽ ✽ ✽

[Four Years after Graduating from Hogwarts - October 31st]

It’s the day of the Halloween party – the Halloween party that Jimin has become famous among for hosting at his house. Somehow, without you noticing, late afternoon has slunk in, and you’re helping Jimin add the last finishing touches to your house, making sure all the foods are ready for when guests arrive.

You look around at the spread of food crammed on the small kitchen table. “Not too bad, Park Jimin” you say, giving him an approving smile.

“Well, I couldn’t have got it all done on time without your help,” Jimin says, making his way over to sweep you into a hug. He smells of spices and vanilla from helping you to bake in the kitchen. There’s flour on his hands, which has definitely ended up on your jumper. Nothing a little bit of magic won’t fix.

“Hey,” he pulls away from you, “I was going to ask after the party, but I’m too excited to wait.”

You furrow your brows, wondering what he’s getting at.

He licks his lips, looking down at you, and you see his Adam’s apple bob. “I was wondering...” he pauses, and your hearts starts thudding against your rib cage.

“How would you feel about marrying me?” JImin asks, eyes searching yours.

You don’t give him any moment of hesitation or uncertainty. You’re already pressing a kiss to his lips before your remember directing your body to do so. “I’d want nothing more!” you murmur as you part.

“Good,” he laughs, nuzzling your neck as you hold him close. “Now I won’t have to return the ring I bought you.”

✽ ✽ ✽

After you wave off the party that evening, Taehyung being the last to leave as per usual, Jimin pulls you into the living room, where the remains of the party still linger in the form of dishevelled decorations, and the last crumbs of the snacks you baked.

“Well, did I manage to out do all the Halloweens you’ve had?” Jimin asks as you both snuggle up on the sofa.

“You definitely have,” you assure him, “I mean… you proposed to me!”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to do even better by actually marrying you next year,” he retorts.

“October wedding?”

“Definitely.”

“I’d like that a lot.”

✽ THE END ✽

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razberryyum · 4 years ago

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TGCF donghua Episode 11 Thoughts (SPOILERS for episode and novel!)

Ok I didn't think they were actually going to kiss, BUT for a heart-stopping second I thought they were gonna get close enough before cutting away. Just to tease us, if for no other reason. I actually held my breath. It was still a big tease nonetheless but I am still grateful for the scene because my God was it beautifully done. The focus on Dianxia's lips as he says Hua Cheng's name, the way his breath catches as HC leans closer, the world fading away around them, HC's ponytail gently falling forward just so, the way they just focus on his lips just as if from Dianxia's POV....all of it just screams romance. Once again, that was all the work of the donghua's team. In the book, this moment occurs when they're actually back at Puqi Shrine, and Xie Lian's actually in the middle of cleaning a table when he very nonchalantly addresses Hua Cheng by his name. It was cute because Dianxia did it so casually but hardly THIS romantic. So, really, hats off to the donghua team!

Actually other than that last scene, of course I am grateful to the donghua team for many other moments in this episode. To start, whenever they show San Lang protecting Dianxia.

We know Xie Lian can definitely take care of himself, but I appreciate that Hua Cheng's instinct is always to protect him anyway. I actually thought that's why he gave himself the name," Hua Cheng". The words translate to "Flower City", and in the olden days, a city had walls protecting the people in it, so I figured that Hua Cheng chose this name to represent how he will always protect Xie Lian, that his protection is all encompassing. Lol, I can't wait to find out how wrong I am.

Even though Hua Cheng's fight with Pei Su was mostly off screen and limited to quick flashes of swords clashing, what they did show of Hua Cheng in his "real" form was DELICIOUS.

I am grateful to the donghua team for Hua Cheng's adorable reaction to Dianxia being cheeky. Too precious!

Our General Hua looking like a god in armor...and the way he made bis appearance in that scene too, like a savior coming to rescue mankind...or in this case, Banyue.

This scene actually made me tear up. I don't remember thinking Pei Su was that attached to Banyue when reading the book, but that might've been my fault for not paying close enough attention when HuaLian weren't directly involved. I was actually wondering how they were going to conclude the Banyue arc in just one episode since it felt like they would have to pack a lot into just 20 mins or so, but I think they did a really good job of wrapping it up. Didn't feel rushed or that anything important was missing.

I love both of them already, but I want to especially commend the donghua team's character design for The Wind Master. I don't want to spoil anything for those who haven't read the book, but trust me when I say THAT is a brilliant bit of character design. They will have to change two things about her next season but it's like she's mostly there already. 😂 I also love her voice and voice performance (by VA Qiu Qiu), so perfect for the character. I seriously cannot wait to see more of her next season, especially after hearing that news about the VA. 😁

I guffawed. This was a bit of brilliance too. Man, I just love the donghua team! They really did such a GREAT JOB bringing TGCF to life. I mean, is there really anyone who hates this adaptation?? I guess if you weren't into Xie Lian and Hua Cheng's relationship, the case of the week parts might be a bit underwhelming, but what I appreciate about them is that they inevitably link back to Dianxia and his past, or introduce us to new characters which then opens up the world. They always have a purpose, leading to bigger things. As a first season I think it was pretty strong, what they changed from the source material were usually positive alterations. I mean, I'm reading the book now because of this show, after putting it off for so long, so I'm definitely converted.

I do have to say though that the season did end on a rather odd note since it felt like there should have been just a few more beats before the end credits. It was a little abrupt imho, but it still is miles better than poor SVSSS's season finale, which ended on a freaking scene transition.

Of course there's still that special HuaLian episode on February 16th, so I guess technicallyyyyy this first season hasn't quite ended yet. The special looks to be picking up right where this episode leaves off: with Dianxia having a conversation with Hua Cheng back at Puqi Shrine about his role as Ghost King and other related topics. I'm not sure why it's airing a month and a half later, or why on February 16th instead of Valentine's Day, but I'm not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm just grateful we have more TGCF and HuaLian to look forward to. Second season is already in production, and apparently the theme song for it will drop tomorrow! A live action has been announced which they're still casting, and honestly some of those casting choices scare me so depending on who they end up deciding on, I might just gonna stay away from that completely and stick with the donghua and book.

Novel Reading Progress...about to finish Book 2... SPOILERS

MXTX-laoshi is a total sadist giving us THAT kind of sex pollen scene when nothing could be done cuz Hua Cheng's still a little bean sprout...I love Dianxia, love him more now knowing he was a pretty flawed human being, that he's absolutely not perfect...his heart is warm but his actions are sometimes quite cold...I blame his privileged upbringing and his youth and inexperience for some of his rash decisions...he means well but of course the road to hell is pathed with good intentions...wish he would stop forgetting about little Hua Cheng though, poor baby...the more I read about the human face disease the more I don't want to...just, overall, I feel this heavy weight on my heart now because I know things are going to go from worse to utter calamitous shit soon. I am SCARED, preparing my heart for breakage.

To read the TGCF novel: https://tgcfmxtx.carrd.co/

#Tian Guan Ci Fu #TGCF #Heaven Official's Blessing #HuaLian #TGCF donghua

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rainbowvamp · 3 years ago

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Enchanted

Happy Mercelot week my loves! Enjoy a Cinderella love at first sight au. Featuring Merlin in a pretty outfit and infatuated Lancelot!

@mercelotweek fill for "beauty"

——

Merlin looks down at the bit of fabric in his hands. He’s never tried to alter an object this way. He’d cut a bit of Camelot red from one of the cloaks Arthur had sent to be re-hemmed and was just… looking at it. It was washed, but still obviously worn, fraying in places, no matter how he’d tried to mend it. He hadn’t been particularly keen on the red, but it was the only thing he’d had on hand. He certainly wasn’t going to risk any of his own clothes for something that might not work.

Merlin had altered himself before, sure, but he’d gotten stuck that way as often as he’d done it. A mask couldn’t exactly drink a potion and return to it’s original form. So, he had to be very careful and meticulous when he crafted this spell.

The white of his party clothes was incredible, striking, really, compared to all the other clothes he’d ever worn. Cast offs, surely, but they were beautiful. Morgana or even Gwen might know if they were even still in style, but it was meant to be a bit of a lark, this party. Both for him and the other guests in attendance. The others would be in costumes fashioned from older clothing, or clothing made costume by masks. It was supposed to be fun, light hearted, this party, but here Merlin is, overthinking something as simple as a mask.

He murmurs a spell of his own creation and the scrap of fabric, crumpled and pinned to generally resemble a mask, became something gorgeous before his eyes. The fabric was thinner, almost like lace in weight, but stayed stiff in his hand like it had been over starched. The pins had become fine, metallic dots over the eye holes, and the ribbon he’d use to secure it was almost silk like.

It was beautiful, but Merlin could feel the tenuous nature of the spell. It wouldn’t last forever. It might not even last the night. He could feel the threads of magic holding it delicately in this shape, but ready to break apart at any moment.

Well, he’d just have to make his trip to the party short so he wouldn’t risk being found out. These things usually went so far into the night it became morning, but he’d probably have until midnight before the spell wore off and risked exposing him.

If anyone found out a Servant was mingling with these Nobles, he’d be in the stocks for a week. Maybe worse.

Guinevere, who is his dearest friend and closest confidant, has agreed to help him with his hair for tonight, so he sneaks off to Morgana’s rooms, the lady already down at the party, to get her help, mask already in place, just in case anyone should see him.

The palace feels different when he walks around in clothes that belong to a nobleman. The servants he passes bow respectfully, and it makes him uneasy. How can people stand this? He felt so terrible, watching people avert their eyes and how their heads like he or anyone else had any right to their humility.

In Morgana’s rooms, Gwen adjusts his coat and combs his hair back in a way he didn’t think would suit him, but he ends up liking. He tries once more to convince her to come with him, to just steal one of Morgana’s old dresses and wear a veil, but she’s convinced she’ll be found out, and isn’t willing to risk it.

Merlin has no such qualms, and has vowed to take her involvement with this little scheme to the grave. Or the stocks.

“You look wonderful,” She says when she finally lays her brush down. “You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “Haha, Guinevere. I just want to see how the other half lives for a night. You’re sure you won’t come?”

And now she rolls her eyes. “The lady Morgan and I are much closer than you and Arthur. She’d notice me, even with a mask. Maybe the next one.”

He smiles softly at her. “Definitely the next one. Besides, you’ll still be there. You’ll just have to endure less of the idle dithering of nobles.”

She giggles, “Merlin, you can’t talk about them like that.”

“I can talk about them however I like dressed like this,” He tugged his collar a bit to show off and that set her off again. She covered her mouth to keep their presence hidden and swatted at him.

“Okay, you’ve made your point. Now go, before it’s over.”

“Love you,” he kissed her cheek and she returned the gesture.

“Please don’t get yourself killed.” Which was as good as an I love you too from Gwen.

“No promises. I did try to fight the prince my first day here.”

—-

Merlin takes a second glass of mead in less than half an hour from a passing try. He knows this will be a terrible idea, but he cannot, to save his own life, stand this lot while sober any longer.

Occasionally one of the nobles will smile and greet him, ask him who he is, but for the most part, people are interested in socializing with those they already know, and the few who approach him are obviously uninterested in him as much as they are interested in the connections he might be able to make them.

“I’m dying out here,” he murmurs to Gwen when she’s pauses briefly to grab another tray to pass around lady Morgana’s table.

“I’m so sorry. You poor dear.” She smirks and he smiles back at her.

“Your turn next.”

“Mhmm, after all the fun you’re having, I can’t wait.”

He laughed as she left and his spirits were lifted for the first time all night. He took a final sip of his mead and left it on a table, deciding to try his luck on the dance floor at the same moment that a set of deep brown eyes caught him from across the room.

“Caught” was not an exaggeration. The smoldering, desirous look in the eyes that looked like they might have been looking at him for a while held him like a man entranced. His breath caught in his throat as the man started to make his way toward him.

He was in chain mail, a knight in a cloak that was unmistakably Camelot red. It wasn’t unlike the cloak he’d cut his mask from.

At the reminder, Merlin focused briefly on his mask, whose transformed state was tenuous. It would last a while longer, maybe an hour, maybe longer.

The determined way the knight walked toward him, through the onlookers, partygoers and celebrators was almost overwhelming. No one tonight had looked so intently upon him. He wasn’t sure how to handle it.

His feet seemed to decide how to handle it for him. Thick dark hair that begged to be tugged at and a mouth made for kissing, it drew him in like so few things ever had. Even with the black mask obscuring his face, Merlin can tell he must be beautiful. The cut of his jaw is too perfect for him not to be.

Merlin is stunned by the time they meet, standing obnoxiously still in the middle of the dance floor. The knight bows to him, and while servants bowing to him had made him uncomfortable, this feels formal, and somehow honorable. He holds out his hand when the knight starts to stand, thinking they might shake, but instead Lancelot takes the offered hand and kisses the back of it, eyes trained on Merlin the entire time.

He is grateful for the cover of the mask, with the way that he can feel the blush forming high on his cheek. He wouldn’t want to embarrass himself in front of a knight.

“Hello, My Lord. I am Sir Lancelot.”

Lancelot. He’s heard Arthur speak of him, in passing. An excellent fighter, perhaps as good as the Prince himself. As he stands, Sir Lancelot smiles at him, and Merlin about melts as his stomach flutters and he stands tall, just about eye level with him.

“Hello, Sir Lancelot.” The words are breathier than he means to be, and if Lancelot notices, he gives no indication.

With the slightest bow he asks, “May I have this dance?”

Merlin had been about to dance on his own anyway. Only, Merlin’s never danced any of these formal noble dances, only remembers celebrations in Ealdor, and in the lower town. He isn’t sure of the steps, but Lancelot still hasn’t dropped his hand, and his mouth seems to speak with the same ungiven authority his feet had moved him with.

“Certainly.”

Lancelot takes Merlin’s other hand to place it on his shoulder, and takes Merlin at the waist. It’s what everyone else seems to be doing, and he’s grateful that Lancelot says nothing when they’re pulled so close their chests are nearly flush.

Lancelot starts to move, but Merlin can’t keep time, keeps stumbling over his feet, and Lancelot’s. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a dancer.” Merlin laughs, afraid Lancelot will simply leave, but the man’s returning smile tells another story.

“That’s alright. Just stop thinking so hard about it. I’ll lead.” He pauses briefly to adjust his grip on Merlin’s waist and then Merlin feels the gentle push of the hand there, urging him to move back, forth, left, right, turn, in time with the music. Between Lancelot’s easy leading, and the way his eyes seem to never leave Merlin’s, it’s easy to feel like they are the only two people here, the only ones that matter.

Merlin finds the rhythm eventually, and the gentle coaxing on his hip becomes obsolete. He still misses the feel of Lancelot’s hand in his when they’re suddenly unclasped and grabbing Merlin by the waist, to spin him around with the flourish as the dance came to an end. He laughs, and the answering twinkle in Lancelot’s eyes speaks volumes for how he’s enjoyed himself.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Lancelot asked, and Merlin smiles, letting the knight take his hand and kiss it again.

“I’d say it was the best dance I’ve ever had. Thank you, Sir Lancelot.”

“I aim to please.” Another song started up, and Lancelot raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid this one is a group dance. Unless you fancy a half dozen partners and more steps than you can count, we might sit this one out.”

Merlin laughed, “I certainly don’t want that. Get a drink with me?” Merlin doesn’t need another drink, but he is parched.

When Lancelot offers his elbow to Merlin, he almost rolls his eyes, but can’t help the grin it illicits. “Such a gentleman.” He smiles, and Lancelot returns it. They take a seat at a nearby table, long since unoccupied in favor of the dancing.

Lancelot serves him mead before a servant can, highly unusual for a knight, as Merlin is well aware. “Thank you,” he waits for Lancelot to serve his own glass and clinks them together before taking a healthy sip from his. The warmth of the joy of Lancelot and the mead mix together, leaving him feeling heady and relaxed.

“I’m afraid I don’t know your name. Is that terrible?” Lancelot asked, and Merlin laughed in response.

“Few would. I’m hardly a common attendee of these sorts of things. I’m Emerys of Ealdor.”

“Such a beautiful name, for a beautiful man,” Lancelot gestured for a servant to bring the tray they were holding, and thanked him graciously as he served both Merlin and himself honey cakes. “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of Ealdor. Is it far from here?”

“Yes. I don’t see it much, anymore. It’s in Essetir, and it is not exactly safe to pass between the two lands. I haven’t been home in many years.”

Lancelot frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. I too can not return home. I know how lonely that can be.”

Merlin smiled sadly. “Yes. But I do make friends wherever I go, and that helps.”

“I hope perhaps I may one day be counted among them?” Lancelot raies and eyebrow and Merlin’s besotted.

“Easily. So you do not come from Camelot?”

“No. I was a wonderer for a long time, learning sword craft to become a knight of Camelot, one of the noblest lands I know of.”

“One of?” Merlin asked, and he’s honestly curious. He’s used to the way the knights talk about Camelot, like it is perfect, the most wonderful place to live with the most impressive king.

“The King is very noble. He has a heart for the people not all Kings can boast.”

“But?” Merlin pushes, and Lancelot smiles uneasily.

“But not all of the people of Camelot belong in the King’s heart. It is not always my desire to carry out the laws against magic users, if they’ve done no wrong. But I am always loyal to my king.” He took a sip of his mead, pulling gently on the collar of his shirt.

Merlin didn’t know what it felt like to fall in love, but he thought perhaps this might be it. Like falling and being overwhelmed, and wanting nothing more to steal away with someone who appeared perfect in every way.

“I must say I agree.” He said, and Lancelot visibly relaxed. “But like you, I have no ill will toward the King. He does what he believes to be right, and that is all any man can be asked to do.” And perhaps one day he would see that he was not right. Merlin could only hope.

“Yes. Will you be in Camelot long, after the festival?” The question is so obviously probing that Merlin feels a bit of glee at it, even as his heart sinks, because he can’t have this man. Lancelot is a knight of Camelot, and Merlin is a servant.

“I’m afraid not. I leave tonight,” Merlin smiled wanly, and Lancelot’s face mirrors him.

“There’s no possibility of your plans being changed?”

“No. I’m expected somewhere tomorrow. We’ll have to ride through the night to get there.” This is the first true lie Merlin has told all night, and it aches to say. Lancelot cares for magic users, and he’s kind, and he didn’t ask Merlin what connections he had or how he might be helpful to him. He just wanted to have a dance and talk.

He looks away and meets Gwen’s eyes, somewhere over Lancelot’s shoulders. She looks so sad, and he knows he must look the same.

“When might you be back? In Camelot, I mean?”

“I can’t say. It’s only coincidence that brought me here tonight.” This at least, is true. Merlin never could’ve come to this party if not for Gwen coincidentally finding the discarded clothing in the closer of a long disgraced nobleman. The fact that they happened to fit Merlin was also happenstance, and if not for that, he’d never be here. With an hour of Gwen’s help, she’d been able to tailor them nearly to perfect, and he was loathe to admit he looked quite good.

“That is a shame. We must enjoy tonight then.”

“Yes, we must.”

The song changed and Merlin took as delicate a bite as he could manage of his honey cake before taking Lancelot’s hand. “Teach me to dance some more, you’re fantastic at it.”

This brought a smile to Lancelot’s face. “It would be an honor, my lord.”

They take to the dance floor. This dance, whatever it is, is far more complicated than the last one, and Lancelot also stumbles through it occasionally, which makes Merlin feel just a bit better.

“We’ve nearly got it!” Merlin laughed when the music ended, and Lancelot bowed to him again. Merlin is about to ask him for another one when a tall figure suddenly approaches them.

“Mind if I cut in?” Says another knight of Camelot, this one completely disregarding the dresscode and lacking a mask. His long hair came to his shoulder and Merlin would’ve found him incredibly attractive if it weren’t for the fact Lancelot was already the center of his night.

Merlin bows goodbye to Lancelot, thinking this knight has come for his equal, he certainly wouldn’t be the only knight to do so, but then he sees the hard edge of Lancelot’s eyes and is a bit confused.

“My Lord.” The new knight says, and takes Merlin’s hand, sweeping him away from Lancelot without waiting for so much as a “by your leave.”

“I’m Sir Gwaine. You’re a pretty thing,” the knight says, and Merlin doesn’t find this compliment as positive as Lancelot’s.

“I’m sorry if I have no desire to be called an object.” He said stiffly, and Gwaine laughed.

“You’ve got nerve. Lancelot must like that.” Merlin was swept up and turned, his hands barley having time to grip Gwaine’s shoulders and stabilize himself as he was lifted into the air. “I’m sorry to intrude. Sir Lancelot is one of my dearest friends, and a bit of teasing always does him good. Can you see him?” He leaned in to whisper these last words in his ear and Merlin’s eyes start searching the floor for Lancelot.

He’s not on the dance floor, but is watching them with a deep intensity from the spot where they’d sat and ate the song before. “You’ve upset him.”

“Well, you didn’t have to accept.” The man smiled, and Merlin scowled.

“I thought you were asking for Lancelot, not me. Besides, you didn’t give me time to either accept or deny. Just carried me off like some sort of brute.”

“My apologies.” But nothing about his tone seemed apologetic. “However, when Lancelot gets his hands back on you, I think you might just thank me for my little intervention.”

Merlin’s barely following along with whatever steps, but he’s starting to fume. “What is this? Some sort of joke? Do you find that appropriate?”

“I meant no harm,” He smiled, “I swear.” They turned and for a second his eyes focused over Merlin’s shoulder and he grimaced. “But I’m afraid I may have gone too far. I’m going to get it in training tomorrow.” He focused on Merlin again to grin. “But I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it.” The song ended and Merlin just barely put up with a peck on his hand. Before he can pull away, Gwaine holds his hand tight, and Merlin freezes. “Lancelot hasn’t looked this happy for a very long time. I hope you don’t mean to dash his heart.”

Merlin is shocked at the insinuation. “I’ve only just met him. There are no hearts involved.”

“Mmm, you haven’t known Lancelot as long as I have. I assure you, there are.” He made Merlin take his arm and lead him back to the table where Lancelot was sitting. There was a blond knight standing beside him now, leaning in and murmuring something in his ear. “He falls so quick it’s a marvel he’s ever on his feet. But he’s loyal. I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea if you mean to disappear.”

“What do you mean?” Merlin asked, stiffening, and Gwaine shrugged.

“I’ve never seen you before. Neither has anyone else I’ve asked. You’re passing through. Who’s to say how you got an invitation, but you’re not likely to return if you’re making no move to introduce yourself to everyone here. I’ve been a wanderer, I know the signs of someone who only intends to stay one night. If you’ve no intention to stay, I wish you’d leave him be.”

“It’s complicated,” Merlin said voice still tense.

“Everything is. My word stands.” They arrive at the table and Lancelot stands, pulling out Merlin’s chair for him, glaring at Gwaine.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I couldn’t get enough of our new friend. But he’s all yours now, Lancelot.”

Merlin takes a seat and is relieved for Gwaine to go. Lancelot looks him over like he’s afraid he might’ve been mauled. “Are you alright? I know Gwaine tends to be a bit… forward.”

Merlin laughed, a bit uncomfortable now after what Gwaine’d said. “I’m alright. He wasn’t too forward. Just a bit blunt.”

“Yes, he’s like that.” Merlin followed Lancelot’s gaze to Gwaine, and hoped that Lancelot did beat Gwaine on the training field tomorrow.

The honey cake he’d left is still there, and so he takes another bite. Things like this were so rarely afforded to him he had to force himself not to scarf it down. The cake was soft and crumbled easily in his mouth, giving way to a sweet, delicate flavor. The soft sigh of pleasure from the taste of it all drew Lancelot’s gaze briefly to his lips, and Merlin felt his face heat. “I don’t usually indulge.” He said, as way of explanation, and Lancelot smiled.

“I’m glad you’ve given yourself the pleasure tonight. Camelot’s kitchens are famous.”

“I can see why.” He says, taking another bite of the delicious cake.

“Perhaps they might entice you back.” Lancelot says with a hopeful look, and Merlin swallows.

“Perhaps.” He’s starting to think that maybe this is no good anymore. He’s playing with this man’s heart, pretending to be someone he is not. As much fun as this is, and much as he’s possibly developing a crushing love for Lancelot, this is wrong. They could never be, simply by the virtue of Merlin’s station.

A clock, somewhere far off, strikes and he jumpsin his seat. He checks the magic holding his mask and finds it worryingly close to breaking. He can’t let his face be seen here.

Luckily, he has a readymade excuse.

“Hell.” He murmurs, putting down the cake and being careful to use the napkin to clean his fingers. Had to keep up this act of nobility, no matter how much he’d rather lick the crumbs from his fingers. “I have to go.” He drops the napkin down and pushes his chair back, throwing Lancelot an apologetic look that is more genuine that Merlin meant it to be.

“What? It’s only midnight. Please.” He takes Merlin’s hand as he stands, stopping him from going any further.

“I have to go. My carriage will be waiting. I was suppose to be there ten minutes ago.” Merlin tugs on his hand, but Lancelot holds it, doesn’t let it go.

“Please, I can’t- It’s too soon.” His pleading hurts Merlin, but now that his anxiety has taken over, he knows it’s just a matter of time before the mask becomes a scrap of cloth and falls from his face.

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” He pulls his hand out of Lancelot’s and rushes as much as he dares to the door.

Sir Gwaine blocks his path just as he gets to the door. “Leaving so soon? Can’t I tempt you for another dance?” Merlin can’t read his face, is too worried to even think about trying.

When he looks behind him and sees Lancelot coming for them, he starts to truly panic. He can’t afford a delay.

He turns his face away from Gwaine and mutters a spell to drop a nearby server’s tray. This distracts Gwaine just long enough for Merlin to slip past him and out of the great hall.

He can hear Lancelot coming, calling after him, but he dare not look back. He mutters a second spell to slam the ballroom doors. This will serve both to slow Lancelot’s progress and hide which way Merlin goes goes.

And considering he’s going deeper into, rather than out of, the castle, it’s very important no one sees his retreat.

He slips through the halls, hearing Lancelot’s cries echo and then disappear as he goes toward the castle door, looking for him.

He’ll never find him.

Merlin swipes uselessly at his prickling eyes. He hadn’t wanted to leave Lancelot, but after what Gwaine had said, he couldn’t stay in good conscience. He swallowed hard to try and keep himself collected, and finally ducked into Gaius’ rooms, gracefully empty.

As soon as the door was closed he felt his magic break and the mask become a scrap of fabric. Camelot-red fell into his lap, and he stared at it, thinking of what might have been, and let himself cry.

#minimercelotweek2021 #bbc merlin #merlance #mercelot #lancelin #lancelot/merlin #merlin/lancelot #merlin x lancelot #lancelot x merlin #day 1: beauty

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snails-oc-stuff · 3 years ago

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@dragonherder2030 @gl1tchxr

Decided to make this it’s own post but here’s the Lore stuff(previous posts: first, second).

Okay so basic world stuff before I get to characters-

This is kind of like your classical children’s book/movie/show, animals that have relations closer to human like ones and all talk and stuff. But darker! So yeah, warnings for mentions of death, hunting, and just some darker themes.

The animals mostly live in groups, usually mixed between similar species, though some completely only one species, and others are very spread out.

For example, a group of birds of prey consists of falcons, hawks, eagles, and the like. This group would probably be rather large and well known.

The next down, a group of different kinds of hawks, some are red-tailed hawks, some are goshawks or broad-winged hawks. Also probably well known, maybe a little smaller though

And next would be, say, a group of only Red-tailed hawks for example. These kinds are very rare, and 90% of the time are just families living by themselves for a bit, before rejoining another group.

Most of these groups, minus the third example, are lead by representatives of their species.

Representatives are about what they sound, there a single person that represents their species. There’s one for each general species(I’ll get into the specifics of what that means in a moment), and they’re kind of the judge, jury, and executioners of this world. They, of course, have to lead their people this way, but they also have to keep each other in check. If a representative is considered too far beyond redemption, they’ll be cast out by the others, and since the representatives represent their species, the rest of the species will also be outcast.

Representatives are chosen through death, in one of two ways. You see, representatives cannot die of old age, starvation, illness, or the like, their magically protected. They can only die from wounds/in battle, which is how the next representative is chosen. If defeated by another member of their own species, that animal well become the new representative. However, can choose an heir to replace them if they die by another species hand, though that rarely happens. In that case their heir is made the next representative, if this happens and they don’t have an heir the next representative will be random.

So, general species is a very vague phrase, so I’m gonna try and clear that a little. When I say general species I mean, for example, rather then just say Canine, there are foxes, wolves, coyotes, and many others. Rather then just say bird, or uh, song bird or flightless bird, I’d say there’s one secretary bird representative, one finch, one sparrow, one hawk, one kite.

However you wouldn’t specify past the that, for example, there’d be hyena representative, but not one specifically for, say, brown Hyena’s. A brown hyena *could* be the hyena representative, but it would be for all hyenas not just other brown hyenas. I hope that makes sense.

There are some animals where it’s kind of a gray zone, for example like how there are animals called leopards but aren’t actually leopards(snow leopard, clouded leopards, etc.), and in that case… yeah I’m just gonna look at the species a little and pick myself, not exactly perfect but that’s what we’re going with.

Okay now onto some of the other lore stuff, gosh this is already so long.

So ferals. As I mentioned before, some entire species have been outcast before(it’s pretty rare though), but what does that mean exactly? Well in this world when a representative fails their job and species so badly the entire world doesn’t want them, they’re species loses what makes them… more complex, what allows them to talk, and have more ‘human’ characteristics. They become wild animals, in the sense that we see them in the real world, if not worse because it also raises their aggression a bit.

Yeah I know, I never promised this animal world was well run. In fact I made it kind of badly run on purpose. Flawssss like blaming everyone for one persons mistake. Wonderful.

So, a feral animal *can*, technically still retain their more complex aspects, in certain cases, being the exiled representative, for example(because they still retain their near immortality and magic protection till they die). The other way, is if they have a non-feral animals soul. It’s possible for certain animals to trap souls in objects, and give them to people. If given to a feral animal, the feral animal regains their own mind, but can only speak in the voice of the dead animal.

Okay so there’s all that out of the way, let’s talk some more about relations. (Tw for talk about eating animals/hunting(by other animals of course) until the part that says ‘okay let’s move on from the dark stuff’)

So there are still, of course, predators in the world who can only eat meat. They’re usually given this through those who pass away from other means(old age, injury, or other such examples), however there are other cases. If there’s an actual battle between two or more groups(started for reasons other then food), or in special zones.

These zones are taught to all from a young age, and most people avoid them, however they are widely accepted as violence/hunting zones. Basically places where most rules don’t apply, and animals could be hunted/attacked/killed without much repercussion. These zones also work in reverse tho, because they’re sometimes used for groups of smaller animals to gang up on bigger ones without facing whole groups of bigger ones(they’d take one at a time). Oh and feral animals are always allowed to be attacked/fought/hunted on sight. They have no protection.

Okay let’s move on from the dark stuff! Interspecies relations,

So as I said, it’s not uncommon to see, say, different kinds of birds of prey together, it also wouldn’t be uncommon for birds in general to be grouped, usually in a settlement in that case.

You could probably see a bunch of aquatic mammals and reptiles sharing gossip and a snack on popular beaches.

A group of iguanas protecting a group of smaller newts and geckos.

But what about, crossing even the similar species bound? Seeing a jackal and a crocodile together, not as enemies but as friends? Very rare but not unheard of.

The most common, but not only, case of un-alike species being together is traveling. Two animals who are traveling alone/separated from their group, and have destinations close to each other. They may want extra protection, or just company. This is usually only 2, 3, or 4 animals. Bigger groups haven’t really been seen, but they probably exist lol.

Otherwise, they’ll be seen in settlements. Sometimes a group of, for example, aardwolves and actual wolves may settle, but they didn’t know really close by was a settlement of tigers. The two groups meet and happen to get along, their technically separate still, but they work together and live so close to one another a visiter may assume their one settlement.

And uh.

This is most, though not all, of the the kind of the world building stuff! Hope you like it, sorry for talking so long wheuduhfhsha.

I may make a other post talking about the story and characters specifically, but this was just the basis

OH ALSO. Most of the examples for relations I just made up on the spot and aren’t cannon, they *could* be, like there could be a jackal and croc friendship I make in the future, but most of them are just random things I came up with. That’s all.

As always questions/comments are encouraged because they help me improve and add onto the lore, and also help motivate me to work, lol.

#snails meta #rambles #talk #long post #tw: death mention #tw long post #tw animals eating other animals #animal ocs

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etirabys · 4 years ago

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Downbelow Station, a fanfic summary

I’ve been writing fic for this tiny book fandom and have at least a few fandom acquaintances who want to read my fic but don’t want to read the book. This is a summary of what happens in the novel, whose heart, to me, is the relationship between a mindwiped ex-slave and a cross-cultural married couple who take him in under their protection.

The premise

People are in space, since the Earth Company started establishing space stations around increasingly distant stars for manufacturing/trade. There are several types of people:

Stationers stay on one station – stations were originally established by the Earth Company but have since gained de facto independence because Earth is so far away

Merchanters live on ships and trade – family very important to them, so is family name, regularly deal with Stationers as part of their life but find settling down very foreign. More sexually opportunistic than Stationers, possibly less monogamous.

Earth Company Fleet soldiers live on ships; originally under the control of Earth Company, as of novel start have gone kind of rogue, will continue to go even more rogue over the course of the novel

Citizens of Union, a... nation in space that grew in the deepest reaches, furthest away from Earth's influence. Union is currently trying to annex everyone else. Earth Company is trying to resist this through their Fleet. However, Earth Company is not very enthusiastic about this war and have been drawing out; the Fleet thinks it's important to keep fighting and keep doing dipshit moves like impressing Merchanter ships and ?? maybe looting stations a little bit to keep going.

Azi of Union – a genetically engineered underclass specific to Union. Basically designer subs. I believe the word azi is never brought up in Downbelow Station, but it's very clear a character is an azi, and what that means is explained in Cyteen, which takes place in the same universe. Union citizens use 'tapes' casually and at-will for fast learning and entertainment and conditioning, but starting later in life. Azi grow up on tape – their psyches are designed to be good at whatever they were designed to do, whether that's soldiering or psychologizing or childcare. Azi require varyingly regular check-ins with a Supervisor, who is an assigned person who tells the azi they are Very Good and On Course With Their Lives and give them tapes to keep them aligned with their values and mentally stable. Azi have normal human names but also an ID that looks like AO-1234, where the first alphabet character indicates what ‘class’ you are – an Alpha-class azi is probably far smarter than your average citizen and is more capable of functioning independently. Azi can win citizenship, but so far the only people onscreen who’ve done so are Alpha-class azi.

The cast

Damon Konstantin is a head of Legal Affairs on Pell Station, and the son of the Stationmaster, which is apparently a hereditary position. Despite the hereditariness Pell seems to have the most familiar culture to me, a 21st century American expecting democracy and rule of law. Pell Station is special – it orbits a human-livable planet called Downbelow, and there are only three such planets under human control. This means the planet can be used as a base for ‘bioform production’ (a vague category encompassing everything you can grow on a planet but not a space station) and makes Pell strategically valuable. The other two livable planets are Earth, under the control of the Earth Company Fleet’s nominal masters, and Cyteen, the base of Union operations. Pell is neutral, as many star stations try to be.

Elene Quen is a Merchanter who stepped off her ship to marry Damon. They’ve been married for four months at novel start. Her formal role is liaison with Merchanters.

Joshua Talley is a soldier of Union who was captured when Union forces sabotaged (blew up) a station called Mariner Station. He was tortured for information on another station – Russell’s – whose inhabitants feared the same fate for themselves. He had nothing to give them – he was a medium-level technician/soldier, an ‘armscomper’, which I think means he was the person pressing buttons to fire on targets or programming the weapons to fire on targets. During his interrogation Russell’s station was also sabotaged, ensuing in a mass evacuation.

Signy Mallory is one of the ~10 captains of the Earth Company Fleet. She is commanding and very deadly, commands fanatical loyalty from her soldiers. She’s also a sexual sadist. When she comes to evacuate Russell’s Stationers from a failing space station she finds that they have a Union POW who is very pretty, and takes him into her personal quarters for their journey to Pell. It is not said how she rapes him but it was a lot. Joshua thinks of this part as worse than the previous interrogation.

The events from there

When the Fleet arrives at Pell Station, they are convoying huge ships full of thousands of refugees from stations sabotaged / fallen to Union. It has been weeks or months since they started out. The ships were overpacked, many inside are dead, the culture of the ships has quickly turned anarchic/violent.

Angelo Konstantin, master of Pell, says "wtf, we can't take all these people, we don't have space. We literally cannot do this." The Fleet says, “You better,” unloads the highly upset and sick refugees, and leaves. Pell Station clears out two sectors of their station and makes it the 'quarantine zone', later shortened to Q. Conditions are very bad in Q and what to do with the violent, desperate people inside, many of whom cannot prove who they were in their past lives, when Pell doesn’t have the capacity to relocate them, is an ongoing problem throughout the novel.

Before leaving, Signy Mallory also said, "in addition to the refugee crises we unloaded on you, here is a Union prisoner of war we transported separately because the refugees would have killed him", and dumps Joshua on Pell leadership.

Around this time, Elene Quen finds out that her ship was destroyed when Mariner Station blew up. She now has no blood family, and Merchanters put great cultural emphasis on having clan and name. She decides to have a kid, talking Damon into it.

Joshua Talley is extremely depressed and keeps asking for a mindwipe so he can live as a normal citizen on Pell rather than being indefinitely detained. Mindwipes are used on stations as a consensual way of rehabilitating criminals. His captors are reluctant – it’s tantamount to execution. Damon Konstantin is the final permission-giver on the issue and gives it in the end. The process of mindwipe (or Adjustment) necessarily causes the person to regurgitate their whole life. This is recorded. Due to this, he discovers only after the mindwipe is complete that Josh was tortured on Russell’s with mindwipe drugs (presumably for the same regurgitating-your-whole-life property) and then raped on Signy Mallory’s ship on the way to Pell, and that wanting to wipe out the trauma was the real reason he wanted a mindwipe.

Damon feels really bad about this. He checks up on Josh Talley a lot when he's recovering from the mindwipe. He and his wife Elene decide to 'sponsor' him when he's rejoining normal society on the ship. Elene does so through some personal resistance – Josh once belonged to the military force that wiped out her family. They check in with a guy who doesn’t remember much of anything but definitely has abandonment issues and is afraid of emotional entanglement with people.

Josh Talley quietly converts much of his internal body mass into gooey loyalty.

Plot chaos. The station comes to be formally occupied by the Fleet, who wants to use it as their new base of operations, and a Union saboteur named Gabriel who talks to Stationmaster Angelo Konstantin’s main rival and conspires to bring him to power instead...

There’s a part I really really want to summarize here where Josh tries to fall on grenade for the Quen-Konstantins – literally, trying to take an action that would end in his death but keep them safe from the Fleet – and they show up and say “you idiot, never do that again” and bring him back to their apartment and say “while the Fleet is suspicious of you, you are living HERE, so everyone knows you are under our protection. Forget your old job, we’ll find you something working closely with Damon every day – while you’re in sight they can’t get at you.” But I can’t find a non-confusing way to relay it, sorry.

Soon after that, the Union saboteur succeeds. Angelo Konstantin is assassinated. His rival, Jon Lukas, takes his place, and starts enacting subtly Union-friendly policies. I think this somehow happens concurrently with the Fleet still using Pell as a base of operations. It’s highly chaotic. Elene flees the chaos on a Merchanter ship whose family she knows. Damon and Josh, fearing whoever assassinated Angelo, hide within the more bad and chaotic parts of the station (I honestly don’t believe the author when she says they managed this for months – Pell has tens of thousands of people, that’s not a lot! You could close each sector at a time and sweep everyone!). This part feels like big missed opportunity to me – they spend their time moving from hiding place to hiding place, coming up with hopeless schemes that they know they’ll never enact. One infers they got much closer, but the author doesn’t go into that either. The one delight that comes out of this sequence is that Josh becomes more assertive and competent than we’ve ever seen him – being in hiding, under danger, brings out submerged training. He’s not a dependent anymore – arguably in some places he’s in lead.

In the middle of this, Josh makes contact with the Union saboteur, Gabriel, who hails him as a colleague and informs him that they’re of the same kind. They have the same training. The story Josh gave Russell’s interrogators, and Pell, that he was a mid-tier technician, is an implanted set of memories that automatically flushes his real ones when he was under duress.

This means, although the author never explores it, that Josh was probably integral to destroying Mariner Station, and concomitantly responsible for Elene’s family’s deaths.

Josh asks Gabriel for safe passage to the planet Downbelow for both himself and a companion. Gabriel acquiesces, but is shocked when the companion Josh brings to the meeting is the Konstantin heir. He starts to say, “Well, well, what a useful person you have brought me –” and then gets shot by a Fleet soldier who’s following reports of a suspicious person. (My fic Half-Silvered Mirror diverges from canon at this point, and asks what would have happened if Gabriel had his way.)

Now in the hands of the Fleet, Josh and Damon meet with Signy Mallory again. Josh isn’t what Mallory remembers – as a rape victim he was passive, inward-turned. This Josh is articulate and emotional and loyal. Damon isn’t what she expects, either – he manages to jab at her conscience about what the Fleet has become, lawless and unmoored from any democratic interest. She plans to execute both of them the next day.

Due to convoluted plot reasons, she doesn’t. She turns against the rest of the Fleet, which for their own reasons is headed back towards Earth – to conquer. Her ship, Norway, enters a standoff against Union warships over Pell. Which isn’t on course to go well for her, until someone broadcasts at both of them that Pell is now under Merchanter claim. Elene, while out in space, has been convincing Merchanters to form an unprecedented coordination bloc. She demands Pell for the Merchanter Alliance and informs the Union military leader, Azov, that if he doesn’t acquiesce all Merchanter ships in her fleet will refuse to trade in Union space.

She wins. The scene when she docks at Pell and walks in, pregnant and victorious, to kiss her husband, is one of the most visually !!! scenes.

In the aftermath, Azov tries to take Josh back for Union. Damon says nope, he’s ours. Josh, what do you want? Josh says nothing. Looks at nothing. But when Azov and the other Union soldiers leave, he stays.

And afterwards, he goes to Signy Mallory – whose ships now constitute Pell’s militia – and asks, sincerely, to work as crew on her ship for a while. He says he can’t live on a station comfortably. That the stationers know him, and his past. (Not sure how true this is.) Mallory says it’s nothing another mindwipe can’t cure, and he says he doesn’t want to forget. “I’ve got something. The only real thing. All that I value.”

“So you go off and leave it?”

“For a while.”

Comments

There’s... so much I want to write about and explore.

Did Elene know when Josh left that he was probably responsible for her family’s death? (My fic Awarding Damages is about one way they could resolve this)

What did Signy Mallory do to Josh? Can he handle working under her?

Damon and Elene are so parental to Josh, and they're also embarking on having a family in a dynastic way where having a clan is their way of asserting that they exist and are rooted in the world. And of course Josh is going to feel really weird about how he fits into that – he's only watching it happen because he's a charity case, of course he's going to have no involvement in that project – what place is left for him anyway, he has no one and is nothing. I want this man to have feelings about family and how he doesn't have one and then HAVE A FAMILY I want him to hold the baby and go "OH. You are a biological composite of the two greatest people in the world. I cannot hold it against you that you are now going to push me out of my current living situation with the two greatest people in the world"

Due to the amount of mindfuckery Josh has gone through, it’s unclear to both him and the reader how many his memories are real. What does that do to a person?

From what I know of azi from Cyteen, Josh has psychological needs – again, he’s like a bred sub – that non-Unioners aren’t going to understand. Can he get them met? How does he negotiate that?

#rambl #downbelow station #cj cherryh #small book fandom pitch

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akaluan · 3 years ago

Text

Erich/Kisuke: One Night Stand Turned Serious + Balcony Wooing Scene Part 4

It’s a week before he leaves the safety of the shoten, a week spent focusing on anything (everything) except Erich.

The connection still remains between them, is still an unerring compass pointed in Erich’s direction, but unlike before, Erich doesn’t approach him. He can tell that Erich is still moving about — likely to different towns in his territory — but the man never heads towards him.

And maybe it��s nothing, maybe he’s just… just outside Erich’s territory at last, but he can’t help but wonder at how deliberate the avoidance seems; Kisuke’s been holed up in one location for an entire week, and Erich’s presence has never once drawn nearer.

(Maybe Erich simply doesn’t want to see him again.)

(It’s fine, it’s fine.)

(This is what he wanted anyway, isn’t it…?)

It only takes Kisuke a day of testing to figure out that the avoidance is deliberate; whenever he begins moving towards Erich’s location, the man changes direction to head somewhere else. It’s— it’s—

It’s exactly what he wanted, Kisuke reminds himself sternly, before wrenching his mind back on task. He has work to do, evidence to find, monsters to kill, and all manner of other important things to deal with. Tessai and Yoruichi are enough for him.

(They have to be.)

(They’re the only ones who stayed.)

(The only ones who believed him—)

(No.)

(Focus.)

Still, it nags at his mind like a loose tooth, and he keeps circling back and back and back again to the idea that… that maybe this isn’t what he wants. Maybe he’s just a liar-coward-fool.

(Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to try and trust—)

(He’s a worse fool for thinking that.)

Kisuke shoves the urge aside and gets back to work.

(He doesn’t have time for this.)

(He doesn’t.)

(…does he…?)

\\\

Kisuke manages to put the thought (mostly) out of his mind. He goes about the area, fights monsters, clears out nests, stems Invasions, and all without once running into Erich.

(It’s fine.)

(It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine!)

Sometimes… sometimes he thinks Erich might have been nearby — Kisuke certainly doesn’t remember how he got out of some situations — but he’s never found direct evidence. He might just be getting lucky, or maybe there’s another person in the area capable of fighting monsters, or maybe he’s just… maybe he’s just being wishful about something he shouldn’t. It’s fine. He’s alive. He’s surviving. Everything’s fine.

And then it isn’t.

The steady connection stretching between them suddenly dims one day, wavering like a candle flame about to go out, and Benihime snaps to attention like a cat after prey.

(*Kisuke,*) she prods, insistent-focused-intent.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He drops the hunt he’s on and turns, honing in on Erich’s direction, and runs. Runs like his life depends upon it. Runs like Erich’s life depends upon it. Prays that whatever is happening will give him time, time that he doubts he’ll have—

He’s too far away. Has wandered too much, too far, and now he can’t— he can’t—

He falls upon the battlefield like a fury. Tears through the remaining monsters. Tries desperately to find any sign of Erich.

There are townspeople holding the line, fighting back to back to try and save their town. They cheer ragged-exhausted-joyful when they spot him, but Kisuke has no time for them. No time for the monsters in front of him, or the Otherworld Tear looming overhead, or the—

Or the three Grand Behemoths laying dead in front of it.

(Heavens above, three?)

(Things are beginning to escalate.)

(No, no, he’s not ready, none of them are ready!)

(If this is what’s happening here, how are the rest of the wild-lands coping?!)

Kisuke shoves those thoughts aside — they aren’t useful here and now — and focuses on clearing the stragglers and forcing the Tear closed; some escape, he sees them escape, but he doesn’t have time for them. Not when his sense of Erich is still wavering like a guttering flame. Not when Erich might— when he might—

Kisuke grits his teeth and turns away from the battlefield, stalking towards the exhausted defenders. He means to question them, means to find out where Erich is, but before he can even ask, one of the older men steps forward to greet him.

“Thank you,” the man says with a brittle, tired smile. “Once Erich fell, we didn’t think… thank you.” He shakes his head and then jabs a thumb over his shoulder towards the town proper. “Coupl’a kids managed to get him back to town, so our healer should be with him now.”

“Thanks,” Kisuke forces out, trying to not be rude when all he wants to do is find Erich and assure himself of the man’s wellbeing.

The townsman huffs a soft laugh and steps aside. “They probably brought Erich back to his place,” he says, which is good enough for Kisuke.

He knows this town — or at least knows where Erich lives in this town — which means he hurries past the group of townsfolk and down the street, aiming right for the building Erich lives in. He takes the stairs two at a time, hurries down the hallway—

A young man steps out of Erich’s home and closes the door behind him, looking almost as if he’d been out on that battlefield. He’s probably the healer the townsman mentioned, Kisuke decides as he assesses the young man and frowns at what he sees; the young man — boy, really — is pale and exhausted, his brown hair damp with sweat and his shoulders drooping. Either the boy is a terrible healer who cannot pace himself, or he’s a poorly trained healer doing his best with what little he has.

(Or Erich is wounded worse than ever.)

(Kisuke knows which option he prefers, and it’s certainly not the third.)

“How is he?” Kisuke asks before the healer can do more than take a few steps in the opposite direction.

The young man freezes and spins back around, his eyes widening at the sight of Kisuke before immediately honing in on Benihime and narrowing. “And your interest would be?” he asks sharply, pulling himself up as he does. It doesn’t make him look intimidating in the slightest, but the thought is certainly there.

“I’m a… a friend,” Kisuke answers, praying that Erich won’t take offense at the presumption.

The young man purses his lips and fixes him with an assessing stare, then huffs and turns away, one hand gesturing sharply for Kisuke to follow him. “I take it you’re that ex-Shinigami he’s mentioned a few times lately,” he says as he heads down the hallway. “Erich’s sleeping right now, and I won’t have you bothering him, so come on.”

Kisuke grimaces and lengthens his stride to catch up with the young man. “You know, I could have been anyone, actually,” he can’t resist pointing out, even though it damages his own chances at being believed. “You handed me the perfect cover right there.”

“I really hope there aren’t any other Shinigami around, ex or not, with your horrible taste in clothing,” the young man grumbles as he casts a sidelong look at Kisuke. “Look, everyone around here knows that Erich’s been sulking over a blond ex-Shinigami, and someone matching your description has been seen hunting monsters all over Erich’s territory. I’m pretty certain you’re who I think you are.”

“Aha, well… when you put it that way…” Kisuke rubs at the back of his neck, then grimaces at the feeling of sweat and grit against his fingers. “Sorry, but I should probably stop to wash somewhere—”

“My home is small, but I have a bathing room,” the young man says firmly. “If you think I’m letting you get away before Erich wakes up and can talk with you, think again.”

Kisuke huffs in exasperation, annoyed that he has a reputation, especially when he wasn’t planning on running anyway.

(He needs to see Erich with his own eyes before he feels comfortable leaving.)

(He needs to assure himself the man is fine.)

The young man leads him to a small place not far away, then unlocks the door and leads him in. “Bathing room is through there, second door on your right,” the young man says, pointing down a short hallway. “There are towels in the little closet in the room itself, and I’ll…” he pauses, eyeing Kisuke up and down, then sighs and finishes with, “Find something to lend you. Somewhere.”

“I’m used to it,” Kisuke tells the young man dryly. “Just do what you can, I’ll deal with it.”

“I imagine you would be,” the young man says, then shakes his head and shoos him along. “Go on, get clean, I’ll be back shortly.”

Kisuke quirks a tired smile at the young man, then turns to do just that.

(It’s not like he has anything better to do.)

\\\

By the time Kisuke is clean and dry, the events of the day have finally hit him in the face; he’s hungry and exhausted and wrung out the way only a combination of combat and emotional turmoil can leave him.

He really wants to just eat something and then fall into bed, but he can’t just yet, not with the worry gnawing at his stomach and the fact that he doesn’t even know where he’s going to sleep.

Someone knocks on the door frame, and then the young healer says, “I found something that should fit you decently well,” as he slips the door open a crack and passes a bundle of clothing through. “If you pass me your clothing, I can have them cleaned up for you.”

“Thanks,” Kisuke says as he accepts the bundle and sets it down, then wads up his dirtied clothing and passes it back. “Don’t worry about getting those spotless,” he says with a hint of amusement. “Clean and dry is all I care about.”

“I can tell,” the young man drawls as he pulls his arm back and closes the door. “I’ll… be back. Feel free to wait at the table in the main room.”

Kisuke makes an agreeable noise as the young man walks off, then washes his hands off and gets dressed; the clothing is a… snug… fit, but it’s manageable so long as there’s no combat in Kisuke’s immediate future. Which is unlikely, given the home he’s in, but is still something he needs to keep in mind.

Once he’s as decent as he’s going to get, Kisuke steps out of the bathing room and wanders back towards the first room the young healer led him through: he’s pretty sure that’s the ‘main room’ given the layout he’s seen so far.

Thankfully, there’s a table and cushions already set out, and Kisuke settles down on one with a sigh of relief then drops Benihime at his side and slumps over.

Maybe he’ll just close his eyes for a moment.

That sounds… good.

(Darkness takes him between one blink and the next.)

#erich/kisuke #erich von rerugan #urahara kisuke #prompt fill #whoooo wants to guess who the healer guy is??#(people NOT on my discord i mean =P y'all already know)#i bet no one else can guess #it took my discord a long while to figure it out bc he's a bit char but he IS canon

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poormeowmeowcollector · 4 years ago

Text

Let me give you my life

Pairing: Loki x Tesseract

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mourning, delusions, mental illness, alcohol, Original Character Death, Odin, fantastic racism

Summary: After Frigga's funeral, Loki starts hearing a voice. It changes their life completely.

Chapter 4: Bridge and Chorus

Chapter summary: the aftermath

Chapter warnings: Odin, Major Character Death, suicide

Chapter note: this chapter is dedicated to @lucywrites02 because she pretended to be a bad bitch yesterday.

Previous chapter AO3

No masters or kings when the ritual begins

The shackles sing as Loki walks towards the throne, fighting back a grin. Odin, on the other hand, sits on his high quality chair, believing to be intimidating.

"You have committed a grave crime against the-" Odin tries to speak, but Loki chuckles.

"I know what I have done, Odin. No need to repeat yourself," they interrupt, using a voice they've been hiding in their throat since they learned how to speak.

And it has so much to say…

"Has your mother taught you no respect for your king?" They yell, their favourite way of speaking to Loki. In all these years, Loki cowarded away at this voice, scared of a physical expression of the anger. This time, he laughs at it.

"Not my mother, and I have no king but myself," they smile, watching a new wave of anger flashing in the old charlatan's face.

"Silence! You never knew how to shut this mouth of yours!" Odin raises his voice, hoping to see the now natural cowering of Loki. The only answer is another laugh.

"Do you really want me to start speaking, Odin? To see who is truly guilty, with all these good dicks and whores listening?" Loki asks, a glow in his eyes as he gestures around as wide as the shackles allow. The harshness of their tongue makes the nobles who watch the "trial" gasp.

"Who taught you this language?" The old man spits, narrowing one eye.

"Apart from your anger? And that old warrior you ordered to teach Thor and me how to survive in a forest? And there are the guards, I can name a few but stitching is a worse crime than murder…" he mutters, acting if like he's chatting with a cup of tea other than being on a trial for murder.

There's no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

"Enough with your games! Why did you murder Lord Gæirasson in cold blood?" Odin asks the "big question", as if the right answer will lift the charges from Loki's name.

"Because… one, because he was a racist and offended me, to which the punishment is death. Two, because he started a war-"

"You started a war, Loki," Thor interrupts, taking Odin's side, like every time.

"A war had been started. Let's not blame people, Thor. Now where were I? Oh, yeah, at how Gæirasson started a war. Also, he refused to pay his taxes and you know how seriously I took my responsibility of being in charge of the palace's finances. Did war crimes against my people, father would be proud the son of a bitch is dead. And lastly, but definitely not least, a dreadful sense of fashion. Have you seen what his grooms wear? I think I threw up in my mouth when I saw it…" they finish with the rumbling, not even thinking of answering seriously. Odin will execute him anyways, would some fun be so bad?

"I said, enough with the games!" Odin basically screeches, their face going red.

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene

"For the murder of a lord, cause of a war and disrespect towards the throne, I Odin Allfather sentence you to a life in the dungeons," he decides.

"Dungeons? Not axe? Did Frigga's ghost or this moron talk you out of killing me?" Loki questions, taking their turn to narrow their eyes.

"If you keep talking, I might change my mind," Odin sighs, rubbing his temple.

"And get rid of this perfect pawn to hold King Laufey from the balls? A shame, really," Loki poutes and shrugs, pretending awfully that he cares.

"I will not stand your disrespect any longer! I had granted you your life, Loki, more than once! You will learn to respect me for it! Take them to the dungeons!" Odin speaks the final order. Four guards grab the chains that lead to Loki's shackles and push him away, forcing him to walk with them

Only then I am human / only then I am free

On the way to the dungeons, Thor stops the guards and demands to speak to Loki.

"Just tell me why, brother. Please. What didn't we give you to make you care so little?" they ask, grabbing Loki's shoulder, just like they always used to do.

"A family. That's what you didn't give me. And that's what I've earned," Loki answers, staring right into his no-brother's eyes, the blue in them and the pale lines that resemble his lightning. They know they won't see Thor from this close ever again, and they deserve a proper last memory.

"Then, I'm sorry. It's late, I know, but remember this, please… I shall visit, whenever I can, Loki. I swear. You shouldn't be in prison all alone," Thor promises. Loki gives only a nod, enough to make Thor dismiss the guards and let them keep walking Loki to his future and last chamber.

The only sign of emotions they allow themselves to show is a sigh, only out of sympathy.

For he knows that his freedom just begins.

Take me to church / I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

The moment the guards put Loki back into the white vacant cell and take their eyes off them, they cast an illusion of them settling on the floor and staring at nothing. The real Loki is walking up and down the room, waiting for the Tesseract to speak.

"Now?" he asks, feeling it close.

"Now, you need to learn who your family is. Not Odin, not Laufey, your true family, Entropy," they answer.

"What with this name? After all this, can't you call me by my name?" Loki groans.

"I am. You have many names. Entropy, the Chaos Stone, the Death Stone, the Knot… the last one, actually, is the name you're most familiar with, translated to Old Jötunn tongue," they speak, all matter-of-factly.

"You're lying, the Chaos stone is a myth," Loki brushes off the answer.

"It does exist. A black gem, created by billions of ropes, strings and threads tangled together. The hardest one to wield and command and impossible to find. The Jötnar had found it and worshipped it. And when Laufey found out that his son is nothing but a dead baby, he sacrificed the infant for the infant. And Odin found the baby crying in the altar, the gem gone,"

"So I own my life to an imaginary stone, apart from an old piece of shit. What a surprise…" Loki throws their hands in the air.

"No. You are the imaginary stone. In order to give life, the Chaos gem entered your body and never left. You are the flesh of a corpse and the mind of an infinity stone. And it's time to leave the corpse and join us,"

The aimless walking stops, and Loki's heart skips a beat

I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

"You made me kill a man, for this?" he asks, glaring at nothing. They don't answer.

"You made me kill a man! Just so I could die!" boiling hot tears streaming down their eyes and slither into their shirt as burning red eyes stare at the empty room for something. "I trusted you! You promised me a family!" he yells between his sobs.

Their feet cannot support them, and they kneel down, turned into a crying sobbing and yelling mess. A hand, created by mist, grabs his shoulder, trying to provide comfort.

"I hate you," they spit, flaring their nose drills as they stare into the blue eyes of the illusion they use to pretend they're close to them.

"I'm sorry, hurting you was… if I could prevent it…" the stone says and gives him a small squeeze. And they mean it. If there was a way to do it without any pain, they would. But it's too late, Loki is already hurt…

Offer me that deathless death

Loki throws themselves into the tightest embrace they ever had, weeping like a baby. "I don't want to die. Please, I don't wanna die. Anything but this, anything, please!" he whispers, diving his head into their shoulder without a thought of holding back the tears.

"Shhhh, you won't die. Not truly. Your mind is the stone, as long as it exists you exist. And the body will stay intact until you need it again. You will be fine, I promise," they whisper, hoping of making them feel better.

"I'm scared, Tessie. I'm so scared, I can't," for a prince, Loki sounds so small, almost like the small child they used to be. Tessie starts playing with his hair, hoping to calm him down, even for a bit.

"It's alright. Everything will be fine, no matter if you do it or not," they shush them.

"If I do it or not?" Loki repeats, sniffing quietly and breaking the hug only to look at the misty blue eyes of Tessie.

"I… you're in so much pain… if you decide that you had enough, you'll be left alone," they explain. Loki nods, still quivering from the crying, but determined.

"No. We got so far. I-I-I'm not giving up," he lets his voice get louder, and then stands up. "What do I do?" they ask, collected once again.

"Get comfortable in a position. And once you're ready, make the ropes appear and let them wash over you," Tessie explains, holding this sympathetic voice. Loki nods and sits back down against the white wall, moving to get comfortable.

Then, with just a thought, the ropes appear and fill him with this calming sensation. Tessie walks closer and cups their cheeks. "See you on the other side, Loki," they smile and kiss their forehead before vanishing.

Loki takes a deep breath, and looks around the cage. He remembers a field day he had when little, a good day. Odin was sleeping on a bench and Frigga was yelling at them and Thor to not get into trouble as Thor dragged Loki, who was just above six, on an expiration of the forest around a castle in Vanaheim. Of course, they returned after the sun was down, with scraped up knees and dirty clothes and Loki had traces of tears in his cheeks because a bug scared him. But it had been, and still is, the best time they ever had with Thor.

He holds tight into the memory as he lets the ropes cover him and closes his eyes.

Good God, let me give you my life

The guards don't know how this happened. One moment, Loki was gazing at nothing and the next…

How does one say this to the Allfather?

The healers walk out of the cage when Thor storms in the dungeons, on the verge of panicking. "Is he alive?" It's all they ask.

The healers won't answer, it's enough to know.

Thor walks in and sits beside what used to be Loki, holding their cold and deformed hand and letting tears run down his face.

Loki doesn't respond, how could he?

He's a statue, as if made from black stone, and his hands covered in stone black ropes, with a faint glow where his heart should be being the only sign that there was once life there.

Loki's face doesn't have the signature smirk, and there's no gleam in their closed eyes. But he does wear a peaceful smile. A smile Thor regrets he had to see this body in order to know that his brother knows finally peace.

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velvetthunder1999 · 4 years ago

Text

All the time on Earth

Part 19 - The Room of Requirement

Summary: After Umbridge bans George from playing quidditch, you decide to make him feel better

Warnings: Smut (but I keep it romantic)

Word count: 2.8K

George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist

When you and George woke up the morning after the detention at Umbridge, you both decided to head for the staff room immediately. You found Professor McGonagall there and you — after George gently persuading you for twenty minutes — showed her the (now barely visible) writing on your hand. She was shocked. She was furious. She squeezed your shoulder and promised you that she’ll take care of it. When you and George left the room, you heard her blowing her nose. And so you hoped.

Neither of you had class with Umbridge that day, and you were incredibly grateful for that. Even though Fred and George assured you that they won’t let anything of the same sort ever happen to you, you were still anxious. You kept your head low, trying to avoid Umbridge’s glance on the corridors, eating lunch only when she had finished. And then, when you were having dinner, you heard it. Voices from the Entrance Hall.

“Pardon me, Professor but what exactly are you insinuating?”

It was Umbridge. The whole table jerked their heads towards the Entrance Hall, and then students hurried over, keen to see what was happening. George took your hand and you quickly followed the others.

“I am merely requesting that when it comes to my students, you comform to the prescribed disciplinary practices.”

McGonagall and Umbridge were standing on the stairs, arguing. You nervously bit your lip.

“So silly of me,” Umbridge said. “But it sounds as if you’re questioning my authority in my own classroom Minerva.”

“Not at all, Dolores, merely your medieval methods.”

You suddenly felt your hand stinging in pain again.

“I am sorry, dear. But to question my practices is to question the Ministry and by extension, the minister himself. I am a tolerant woman, but the one thing I will not stand for is disloyalty.”

McGonagall took one step down the stairs. She nodded in disgust.

“Disloyalty.”

Umbridge now looked at all of you. She raised her head. Your stomach trembled.

“Things at Hogwart are far worse than I feared. Cornelius will want to take immediate action.”

You casted down your eyes and slowly let go of George’s hand. He turned to you immediately but you didn’t look at him. You headed back to the Great Hall in silence. The time had come at last. This is it. She ruined everything.

You felt George’s touch on your arm but you ignored it. You sat down next to Ginny, trying to hold back your tears.

——

From the next day on you were in a situation that is best describable by the word ‘miserable’. You and George had never pushed things far on corridors and hallways before anyway, but now it was reduced to the bare minimum. Yes, you sat next to each other at breakfast and the rest of the meals, yes, you were talking to each other, yes, he walked you to classes… but he didn’t press a good morning kiss on your cheek anymore, nor took your hand and played with your fingers while escorting you to places. For an outsider you two looked like friends, nothing else.

After the first Dumbledore’s Army session in the Room of Requierement things were a bit better; you both felt as though you had some kind of resistance going on against Umbridge and it made your mood a bit better as well. It didn’t last long, though; the Gryffindor quidditch team had to train for their first match agains Slytherin every night, which meant that without the DA trainings your only chance to be together with George was to wait for him extra late at night in the common room. When he arrived from the pitch, he always snuggled close to you on the couch in front of the warm fireplace while outside cold rain was falling heavily on the windows… just to be waken up by you twenty minutes later when you gently brushed his hair out of his tired face and told him it was time to go to sleep.

Even though you were glad Umbridge couldn’t find a reason to send you to detention for breaking some made up school rules, you still missed being with George. This year was certainly not going to the direction you had imagined it to be.

On the morning of the quidditch match you woke up with anticipation; as George said a couple of weeks ago you had never seen him flying, not at least as his girlfriend, and you just couldn’t wait to see him playing. You went down to have breakfast with Ginny and sat down next to Harry, Hermione and the sickly faced Ron.

“Are you all right, Ron?” asked Ginny. This was Ron’s first match. He didn’t answer.

You locked eyes with George a few seats further from you. He indicated with his head towards the door. You checked the staff table for Umbridge but she wasn’t there. You nodded and stood up from the table.

“Are you allowed to wish me good luck?” asked George when he joined you outside the Great Hall. “Or is that forbidden, too?”

“Don’t say that.” You knew he was bitter because of how things were. You intertwined your fingers with his and he seemed to ease. “Good luck.”

You gave him a sweet kiss which took him by surprise. He smiled against your lips before you pulled away.

“See you after,” you said and followed Ginny and Hermione to the pitch.

Ten minutes after you took your seats Gryffindor and Slytherin players mounted their brooms and rose into the sky. You searched for George and just saw him hitting a Bludger towards a Slytherin Chaser. You smiled to yourself without intending to.

“I hope Ron’s okay,” said Hermione.

“What’s this noise?” you said suddenly. All of you turned towards the Slytherin crowd which seemed to be singing.

‘Weasley cannot save a thing, He cannot block a single ring, That’s why Slytherins all sing: Weasley is our King.’

“You gotta be kidding be!” shouted Ginny. You saw Ron just letting a quaffle in. “It’s disgusting.”

After Ron letting in like a dozen of shots, you saw Harry shooting for the ground and raising his hand into the air while Lee Jordan was shouting that Gryffindor won. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause but you were looking at the ground where Malfoy was standing a few feet away from the team, apparently talking to them.

“Oh, no!” screamed Hermione when Harry and George ran towards Malfoy and started beating and hitting him in anger. A few seconds later Madam Hooch caught the boys and sent them up to the castle.

“We should go to…,” you started but Ginny pointed.

“Look, Umbridge!”

Umbridge climbed down the stairs and followed the boys up to the castle with a smug smile on her face. You had a really bad feeling.

You decided to go back to the common room and waited for Harry and George there. Fred was still fuming in anger.

“I wish you’d let me have a go at him,” he said to the Chaser girls. “Malfoy deserves much more than he got!”

“I’m sure Umbridge will figure out something to punish them,” you said darkly.

Just as you sat down next to Fred, the portait opened and Harry and George stepped in, both wearing a miserable expression on their faces. By the time they finished telling the story of how Umbridge banned them to play quidditch ever again, the whole common room was lethargic. You certainly did not expect this day to end like this.

Angelina was first to go to sleep, Alicia and Katie followed. You looked at the twins’ mournful faces and you felt nothing but anger and disgust towards Umbridge.

“I’m going to sleep, too,” said Fred drearily, standing up. You looked at George and whispered.

“Do you wanna come with me?”

He nodded without saying a word. You knew it was risky going out this late, but you took his hand and lead him out of the common room anyway. You walked in silence, though you felt how strongly he was gripping your fingers. When you reached the Room of Requirement you closed your eyes and wished for your own room, then opened the door and pulled George with you.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, after locking the door and taking his hand again. Your eyes stuck on his swollen lips for a moment that he got from Malfoy. You started gently rubbing his fingers. “You wanna take a bath?”

He finally looked into your eyes after staring at the floor for the whole time. He nodded and spoke in a low voice.

“Yeah… That’d be nice.”

Since you wished for the Room to have its own bathroom with a nice tub, well, it did. You let the warm water fill it up and you poured some vanilla scent in it to make it a bit nicer. You looked back at George; he was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking miserable. You walked back to him and sat down, too.

“It’s ready.”

He didn’t answer. He was resting his elbows on his knees, his head hanging low. You tenderly soothed his hair.

“Come.”

He sighed and stood up, following you to the bathroom. He was still wearing his quidditch robes, which you helped him get rid of, then you left your own clothes on the floor as well and sat into the hot water. George followed, sitting in front of you; the water reached both your necks as he leaned back, his back against your chest. You hugged him from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder.

“I just…” he started but struggled for long seconds to finish the sentence. He couldn’t.

“I know,” you said. “She just…” you struggled, too.

“Yeah,” he said softly.

You looked at George’s swollen lip with a tiny cut on the side of it and you felt anger boiling in you again. You pressed a soft kiss on his cheek and he hummed, closing his eyes.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you said, whispering into his ear. “We can just… be here.”

He nodded again, eyes still closed. You pressed another kiss on the corner of his lips, then his jaw, then his cheek. He reached down next to him, resting his hand on your tigh. You hugged him a bit tighter while gently biting his neck, your hands caressing his hair and his chest under the water. After a few minutes you felt him ease in your arms and you took it as a good sign. But it wasn’t enough… you wanted to make him feel better, you wanted to see him smile again, because your heart broke everytime you looked at his sorrowful face… You wanted to give him everything of you just as he gave you everything of him.

“You wanna lie down?”

Your voice was soft but you heard the restrained anticipation in it. You were sure George did, too. He turned a bit to face you and your lips met again in a sweet, careful dance. You felt a slight taste of blood on his lower lip where the cut was and your heart was longing for him even more.

“Yes.”

“All right, then,” you said and he looked at you with his eyes full of desire. You shot a half-smile at him and took his hand after he stood up and stepped out of the bath.

As you left the warm water you shivered, feeling the cold air on your skin. You felt goosebumps all over your body, and George saw you freezing; he pulled you into his warm embrace and kissed you as your hungry lips were reaching for his. You started backing away towards the bed, pulling George with you, and with a soft thud you both fell on the matress. George’s lips left yours and started wandering on your neck, but before he could’ve gone further you stopped him.

“No,” you said and pulled him up to kiss him, while changing your position, gently pushing him onto the bed while climbing on top of him. He looked at you surprised, but closed his eyes the second you took over.

“Y/N…” he moaned softly as you bit his neck, this time a bit stronger than before. You could already see a few hickeys showing on his skin.

“Mm?” you said while kissing the freckles on his chest. His hand found a way into your hair, letting your locks fall between his fingers.

You made your way lower; you felt goosebumps on his midriff as your lips touched his skin.

“Y/N,” he said again, this time a bit louder. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you to him, tasting your tongue, gently biting your lips. Sitting up, he pulled you into his lap and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You somehow felt the vanilla on his lips… You also felt him against your tighs.

“Please,” you said, your voice hoarse from desire.

George whispered in your ears.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you said without hesitation.

“Only mine.”

“Only yours.”

“Tell me I’m only yours, too.”

You grabbed his face and kissed him with everything you had, with everything you were.

“You’re only mine and I love you more than anything.”

And then you sat on him. Both of you let out a soft moan and you felt as though your heart would explode from happiness. You felt whole with him in you. As he started thrusting, your breath became shakier, his soft moans became louder. You silenced him with your lips while he was holding your butt and squeezing it hard. His hands were so strong… You wanted more… Nothing was enough.

He lay back down onto the bed and turned over to be on top of you again. You didn’t resist… You could’ve let him do anything to you in that moment. His thrusts became stronger. Your fingernails dug deep into his back. He was kissing your neck, moaning your name.

“Y/N…”

“George,” you shrieked as you felt the knot in your stomach. You glued your lips to his. He reached down; as he started gently massaging your clit you moaned into his mouth. He smiled against your lips. “Faster… Please — ”

Your eyes closed thightly… You couldn’t breath straight… He was shaking… And then your body stretched out under him and you couldn’t help but let out a soft cry.

“Love,” he grunted and you felt him coming, too. He panted as you hugged him tight and pulled him to you, to rest on your chest. He wanted to pull out but you stopped him again.

“Wait…,” you panted. “Just a little… wait.”

You kept your eyes closed, slowly gaining back your breath, letting yourself enjoy every second of him inside of you. After all those horrible weeks apart… After missing him so much… You felt happy tears in your eyes and you wiped them away with a smile.

“I love you… so much,” you said as you gently moved your hips away from his. He looked at you with such adoration you felt like you just couldn’t handle it anymore.

“I love you, too, witty,” he said and he moved to his side, placing one hand under his head and one hand on your face. He ran his thumb across your cheek. His eyes were tired, but happy; they looked like melted chocolate.

You leaned closer and kissed him softly on his lips. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. You were tenderly caressing his hair as you lay on your back. He soon snuggled closer to rest his head on your chest. You felt his leg hugging yours and he wrapped his arm over your belly. He raised his head to your neck, letting out a deep sigh again. You felt his soft breath on your skin as he started dazing off, occasionally humming when you ran your fingers through his hair.

He looked so peaceful. You looked at his swollen lips again and suddenly anger came over you once more. You wanted to hurt anyone who would dare to hurt him. And that woman… That evil, loathsome, ugly toad… Your hand started shaking as her face came into your mind. She can’t do anything she wants… If she thinks you will be lying low just because she says so… Umbridge already took weeks from you and George… And now she’s punishing him… You couldn’t care less about detention anymore. You’d rather die than let her ruin your happiness.

And so in that moment, you swore to yourself not to be afraid anymore.

Because you weren’t going to let her win. You were going to resist.

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drawing-way-outside-the-lines · 4 years ago

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Indefinite Hiatus.

To anyone reading this, I ask that you respectfully do not reblog this post, as it is very personal, thank you. That being said, the post is long, I’m a writer, what do you expect? But there were so many things I needed to get of my chest, whether anyone reads it all or not, simply doesn’t matter. I had to speak it all out, in order to move on. I will as such hide it under a cut, in case anyone should be curious why I am going on hiatus. Which I don’t usually do, I tend to just take off for a couple of days when things bother me enough to leave. But I thought this time I had to make an announcement, as it is quite possible I am simply just done with this place, and wont be returning. I simply don’t know at the moment, and none of what I write in this post, is written as a form of attention seeking, nor a way for me to get people to show me attention or beg me to stay. If I’m going, I’m going, and there’s nothing anyone can say that would make me stay. I simply make the announcement out of the respect for the few followers I still have some respect for. I wont just up and leave with no word when there’s people on here I still care about. So to be abundantly clear. This is a hiatus. I might be back. I might not be back. Only time will tell. I may some days hang around to check up on cc, you may even see me reply a person here and there, and not reply others. This isn’t anything personal towards anyone. I am simply a person who constantly bend over backwards for everyone else, then push myself repeatedly aside. And I am officially done with it. From now on if you see me online, on any sort of platform, I will not feel bad in any sort of way for not being available, simply because I am online. From now on I will only engage in things that resonate with me, when they resonate with me. Anything else steals my peace. And I no longer want to allow that. I might be gone a couple days, I might be gone a month. Maybe you wont ever see me return, and that’s that. I will take the time I need, even if that means for good. I will no longer put others before my own well being. I might even come by to reblog this post a few times, simply for the fact that I spent many hours, weighing my words, trying to make them as polite, yet clear as possible. I spent lots of time and energy on this, so if I during my hiatus come by to reblog it, it’s not a way to seek attention, or more likes/comments. It’s simply that I made a large effort, and I want as many of my followers to read this, so there’s no confusion as to why I am suddenly gone. If you want me to clarify further than that/you’re curious what finally made a “kind” person give up, it’s all below the cut:

I’ve been sitting on this for a couple days. Debating on whether I should say something or not. But I’ve come to the conclusion that I want to be as transparent as possible, in hopes that, it may, help someone else avoid being in a similar situation. Maybe someone will learn something along these lines of words I so carefully have put together. Preventing someone else from getting hurt. One can hope. And I also hope by speaking up, I can release the negativity I have been carrying, and set it free. Preventing it from weighing me further down. A few days ago, I entered one of my oldest characters, Odette, into a model casting, for Billsims. An experience that should have been fun and enjoyable, but instead resulted in making the decision to pull Odette out of the casting, to avoid Billsims potentially getting in trouble. You see, on the application info post, Billsims mentioned that it would be nice if a bit of info would be written about the sim we would enter, but it wasn’t a must. I decided, as a writer, to write a bit about my character, cause you betcha, as soon as someone mentions they might want a few words about a character of mine, -and my words start spilling like iced tea on a hot summers day! So I added the basic info I thought Odette herself would find important. Among that, I mentioned she’s a ‘Romanian Gypsy’. I did this to best clarify what Ethnicity she has, and what she classifies herself as. If I had simply written ‘Roma/Romani’, many people might not have understood what was meant. And I wanted to be as clear as possible about her, plus the word Gypsy, is simply what she has chosen for herself. I furthermore added she’s a proud woman, and a Pagan. Surprise surprise, someone didn’t like this info, and decided it was okay to point that out on my application post. I still don’t understand some people’s need to constantly nitpick at anything they see online, specially in public, and specially when it comes to people simply having a hobby, enjoying said hobby peacefully, without harming anyone. Now, the post is still up on my blog, the comments are still there. Anyone is free to go have a look if they wish to know exactly what was said. But that being said, I hope and would like to think my followers are old enough to not attack anyone. Please. It wont solve anything. I also ask that no one bother Billsims about the matter, he was perfectly wonderful about it all, and had no issue with neither me, nor Odette. I was the one who decided to pull her out of the casting, in order to protect him, he even told me I was more than welcome to enter someone else. I decided against that however, to protect my peace. Something a very wise person told me to do. Thank you. I stopped replying to the person after my first reply, simply cause I saw no reason to engage in a debate that would lead nowhere. It seemed as if they already had a rather twisted view of me or my character or what was going on, quite possible a mix of it all? So I let them stay in their belief. Trying to convince them otherwise seemed like a tedious task, I had no energy to take on. And I instead went for advice from a trusted person, and enjoyed a long peaceful and uplifting conversation, rather than a fruitless quarrel with someone that was already so sure I was out there doing all sorts of harmful things through my character. I suppose the person commenting wasn’t a follower of mine, and if they were, I cannot imagine them to be a longtime follower. You see, I am aware Gypsy by now is often seen as a ‘slur word’, as this person was trying to educate me. I do not write something into my characters without making at least some sort of research first. Had this person been a long term follower, they would have known, I rarely ever use that word. As a matter of fact, not so long ago, I posted the bio of another character, Gabriella, she was also listed as ‘Romanian Gypsy’. So is the rest of the Lupei clan that both Odette and Gabriella belong to. They have always been listed as such. Ever since I started on Simblr 5 years ago. No one has ever commented on it before. And when I posted Gabriella’s bio earlier this Autumn, I was even met with surprise that I have Roma characters. So it seems, even long term followers hadn’t noticed. Which must mean, I am certainly not a person spreading the word around. It’s not the first time, I have had to get ‘whipped over the back of my head with a wet newspaper,’ by someone who thought I needed some schooling. I have had that experience twice before. So 3 times in total the 5 years I’ve been here. What a rebel I must be, since I have had to be corrected so many times. Once for having many gay characters in Polyamorous relationships. Once for having twins/blood related characters dating each other, and was as result accused of saying incest is right and spreading it as if everyone should be doing it. Which I never did, and never would. We have Game Of Thrones doing that already. First of, I simply don’t agree with that. I don’t think incest is right. However, I also don’t think it is wrong, if the people involved love each other and can make it work. And yes, that is possible. The person getting their panties in a twist over River and Jackall being a couple, did mention they had experienced incest close hand, so I do wanna defend them, and give them their space to be outraged, since I could understand it was a trigger for them. However, I cannot prevent everyone’s triggers, nor is it my job to do so. It is up to you to avoid your triggers, and to find a way to deal with them, so when someone does trigger you, you can handle yourself the best way possible. The whole world is never gonna wrap you in cotton. You need to wrap yourself. It took me no more than 2 minutes to find a very informative Wiki article about how incest IN FACT can be between two consensual adults, which the individual claimed could NEVER exist. Furthermore it can happen between two consensual adults whom happen to love each other just as dearly as two people in a completely “normal” relationship can. Two minutes research was all it took. Imagine if people would do just a minimum effort of research BEFORE they start attacking other people. Imagine a world like that. By all means, if I were out there on the street corners of the world, with pamphlets promoting incest, drag me to a side and slap me. That aint cool. But I am just over here, in my quiet little corner, doing my own thing, which btw you are more than allowed to disagree with, but don’t come knocking on my door with your disagreement. The very few posts I have ever shown of my incestuous couples, have all been very tasteful. And although it is mentioned on each characters bio, whom they are in a relationship with, I think it’s been years since I last even posted a pic of any of said people. I have posted far worse things, and no one ever mate as much as a squeak about it. Still, you are allowed to disagree, I just wish you would handle it in a better way than schooling everyone who does something you mildly (or even strongly) disagree with, and save the schooling for the real issues such as child pornography, Nazi’s, global warming, racism, whether people should wear a mask or not, and any sort of abuse/bullying. Here’s three alternatives I welcome on the other hand: 1. Scroll on. (I have talked with several of my long term followers, and they have confirmed they don’t always agree with the things I post, but they follow anyway, because they enjoy the majority of what I post, and the rest they simply scroll past. It doesn’t ruin their day, or their enjoyment of following my blog in general.) 2. Unfollow. You are always more than welcome to unfollow A-NY-THING on social media, if you do not like what you are seeing. When you subscribe to something/someone, the moment you no longer enjoy what you are seeing, you always have the chance of unfollowing. It’s not a permanent subscription for the rest of your life. Nor a chance for you to try to change what others are posting about. Specially as long as it isn’t harming anyone. 3. Block. The button exist on the vast majority of social media for a reason. Use it if you believe something or someone is so bad that it/they steal your sunshine. Block block block, and move away from it. If you keep hanging onto something you have blocked, what’s the point really? You’re still allowing it to affect you. Move on. And for the umpteenth time, even if my characters does something/say something/engage in something, doesn’t necessarily have to mean I agree with them/their choices/their lifestyle. With some things I do, others I don’t. I’m a writer. I enjoy writing things that challenges me, and challenges the reader. I simply don’t find joy in writing the typical white picket fence story where everyone fits into society, and everything is butterflies and Dandelions. But at the same time, I also don’t run around nitpicking at the people who do enjoy writing or reading these types of stories. The thing is, it’s fiction, right? I’m not writing about real life characters. So I ask you, do you believe every piece of fiction you have ever read? Does Lord Of The Rings or Harry Potter align with real life? If you can say no to that, then why on earth are you so dead sure that the fiction I write align with reality? For the last time, I do NOT agree with incest. For my characters, which btw doesn’t end at just River and Jackall, I do believe in it, simply for the circumstances of how the relationships happened. But you would have to read my whole story to finally understand it all. But I am not cramming it down your throat, specially if you have already made it clear you disagree. To that I once again want to add, my story is nowhere public, so I am really not in any way educating anyone on incest or ‘Gypsies’ or polyamory or anything else. I think polyamory is cool for the people who enjoy it. Have I personally ever been in a poly relationship? No. But I am at the belief people can do with their private life what they wish, as long as they aren’t harming anyone and everyone involved agrees. And to get back to what this post originally was intended to be about, the matter on Odette’s post, I have a few last things I need to say before I put the matter to rest: I'm not representing all of Romani, when I speak for my character(s). I never once mentioned this is how all Romani is. So if that’s what you read, that is on you and the words you add to mine, not my actual words or intention. I'm simply allowing my character and her family to be whatever they want to be, and call themselves however they see fit. As long as they are good kind people, it shouldn't matter much what they call themselves, as long as they don't use slur words for others. I never once claimed that all Romani is Pagan. Odette is. Her father or twin brother, isn't. Odette comes from a mixed background, and is as such a mix herself. And how beautiful is that? Wouldn't it be a shame, if we were only ever allowed to be just one thing in this life? I am not out here educating people on Romani culture, I am not calling people Gypsy in real life, nor do I do it online. In fact I don't call anyone anything in real life, cause people's skin tones simply doesn't matter that much to me. We are all just shades. No shade is more important than the other. We are all decaying plant food. Really. Odette has proudly chosen this word for herself, just as her family before her has been proud to do so. I have in no way portrayed my characters in the meaning of any sort of slur word. They are all highly intelligent well educated people. Odette is under education as a nurse. Her father is a well known and well respected doctor. Furthermore, they are all shape-shifters, whom can shift into very large wolves. Odette’s father being the Alpha. Wait, does that mean I am calling all Romani werewolves? It’s fiction. I am not standing on some stool somewhere preaching to anyone. I’m just me and my characters. I keep it between them and I 99% of the time. My roomie has a friend whom proudly calls herself a Gypsy. She has family whom proudly call themselves Gypsies. So not everyone views this word as bad. And yes there are real life people out there, who sees the word as positive and call themselves by it. Are you going to run after them too, and dictate what they are allowed to call themselves? Or is that only reserved for Simblr’s you disagree with? You simply can’t box up a whole minority like that and claim the word is always offensive and no one is allowed to use a specific word to describe themselves. Furthermore: Mixed background/ethnicity/religious beliefs/spiritual beliefs is a thing in the real world too, not something I made up over night to harm anyone. 'Gypsy' has never been said as a slur word coming from me, it was never ill-intended, and never will be, just like gay never will be said as a slur or ill-intention coming from me. Yet gay is also a word that has quite often been used as a slur. And still is. So, should we stop using it all together? No. It can be said in good intention, and in bad, it all depends on the person using the word. And people should surely be allowed to call themselves gay, shouldn’t they? Never have any of my Romani characters been portrayed in a bad light. (Or gay characters for that matter, but that's not what the subject is about) And if they ever would be portrayed in a bad light, it would certainly have nothing to do with them being Romani. I personally see no point in that. My story and my characters are a source of joy for me, I have no intention of bringing racism into it. Now, we can agree that the word Gypsy is by now used as a slur, but it wasn't originally a slur, and once again, I do believe a person is allowed to call themselves whatever they may wish. Odette and her family wouldn't call other people Gypsies, unless they knew they were okay with it, and proud. Added to that, I do not believe a word can be racist or a slur in itself. A word is just a word. A string of consonants and vowels tied together to create a sound. It's the person using the word, who gives it ill-intentions, not the word itself, unless it was deliberately created with the only intention of hurting. Which as far as I am aware, wasn't the origin of the word Gypsy. 'Roma (Gypsies) originated in the Punjab region of northern India as a nomadic people and entered Europe between the eighth and tenth centuries C.E. They were called "Gypsies" because Europeans mistakenly believed they came from Egypt. This minority is made up of distinct groups called "tribes" or "nations." Most of the Roma in Germany and the countries occupied by Germany during World War II belonged to the Sinti and Roma family groupings. Both groups spoke dialects of a common language called Romani, based on Sanskrit (the classical language of India). The term "Roma" has come to include both the Sinti and Roma groupings, though some Roma prefer being known as "Gypsies." ' - Source: https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/roma-gypsies-in-prewar-europe So to really boil this whole thing down to the bone, so hopefully this wont ever be an issue again: I do not use the word Gypsy in my day to day life. By creating a character who addresses herself as Gypsy AND also happens to be a Pagan, I do NOT in any way indicate that all ‘Gypsies’ are Pagans. I simply state that my character is. Nothing more, nothing less. I do not agree with incest in real life, though I do believe people are allowed to do with their private life as they see fit, as long as they aren’t harming others, and everyone involved is agreeing. I do not promote Poly relationships. Although once again, I’m a firm believer that people are allowed to do with their private life as they see fit yadda yadda... I do not promote being gay or any other sort of sexuality for that matter. Not that I have ever been accused of that, but I wanted to cover it anyway, cause who knows, it might be the next one I should get corrected for. I have a few times mentioned being trans, that was also not in any way a promotion. I do not promote Necrophilia. And here I really must snort. Some years ago (on an old blog, not this one) some very dear followers of mine, gently persuaded me to make some rather graphic pictures of my character Raven, literally f*ck*ng some corpses. It was posted in October as some satirical Halloween-ish post, as far as I remember, and was started from a simple question of, IF, it could be done in ts3? I was then challenged to do it. I did. People clapped. I’m sure others cried. But to my surprise my follower numbers didn’t drop, they increased? No one came running to ‘teach me a lesson’. No one came around to tell me what my demon was allowed to do or not. He was free to do whatever/whomever he wanted. And that’s the thing. There’s so many things in my story, and about my characters, that you don’t know. Cause I don’t post it out there for everyone to see. Cause I am not trying to promote a thing. I am simply here to challenge myself, and along that line challenge the few people I ever trusted to be my readers. You see, I don’t write for the numbers, meaning I don’t write a story that is meant to have a large following. I write for me, cause it is one of the only things that has ever helped me get through life, and fight some of my inner demons, to fight complications, to fight grief, to cope with all sorts of personal things I’m going through, and to have a place to escape to when life is too scary. I write for the content, the depth, for me, not for the fame, not for likes, not for anyone else. This is mine, and I don’t promote it on any scale, I keep 99% of it in private, and the rest I do air in public I air on a very minimal scale. If you decide to get offended about the fact that I drizzled a specific word once on a post, and a handful of times on my personal bios, well, that’s on you. It’s not a word I am out there spreading like a wildfire. People that has followed me for years never saw it till recently. Which should really speak loud of how little that word has ever come from me. I’m a respectable person. I do my best to respect everyone around me. At any time. Even when people don’t deserve an ounce of my respect. But that does not mean I should be weighed down with the burden of never offending anyone, cause then I might as well never speak again. Fact is, now more than ever, people are so offended by almost anything they can come across on social media. Jumping to conclusions here and there, when all they could do is simply ask, before getting offended and as a result decide to school or attack everyone around them. For no one to ever get offended again, we should all log out, and never sign in again. Why does it have to go to these extremes where no one can speak a word any longer, cause everything is an offense, a trigger, a slur? So I stay here in my little corner, doing me, doing my characters the way I like them. It is up to you to agree or disagree. You are free. But don’t come at me expecting I’ll change a thing for you. Cause you will only get disappointed. These people and their story is my way to cope with life, and as long as I am not out there shouting slur words at people or promoting certain ways of lifestyle, or deliberately harming anyone in any form of way, I cannot see why I shouldn’t be allowed. Just as you are allowed to do your own coping. Just as you are always allowed to scroll on, unfollow or even block things/people, you disagree with. Odette stays the way she is. So does the rest of my characters. It wont ever change because someone disagrees. The only way my characters change, is by character development, which mostly they decide for themselves. And I simply don’t see it in the cards that Odette will wake up and not feel Gypsy or stop using that word to describe herself, cause she personally sees nothing negative in it. Nor will she stop being Pagan because her mixed religion/background is making you uncomfortable. There’s plenty Christians out there, with Jesus or Bible quotes tattooed on them, yet Leviticus 19:28 say: Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print any marks upon you: I am the Lord. Interpret that the way you want it. But allow my character to do her religion the way SHE sees fit, simply for the fact that I am sure you want the same respect. I will not ever change my characters or my story for anyone but myself. You can express your dislike from here and until you get tired of repeating yourself, you can unfollow, you can block, you can even report me and get my posts taken down. You can even take it as far as getting my blog shut down. It wont make a difference. My story has been written for 6 years, some characters was written even longer than that. The story is over 200 book-length-chapters, close to 300 as a matter of fact. If I should change anything for a person I don’t even know, it would be almost 300 chapters I would have to reread and rewrite. Would you do that for some person that came by a post of yours, disagreeing with the way you portrait your own original character? If your answer is yes, I truly feel sorry for you. Lastly I want to say, try to be kind. Try to breath before you go and attack someones way of doing their own thing. Before you accuse someone of portraying something a certain way, maybe take a look at the persons previous work. Is it a one time thing, or is it a reoccurring matter? It may just be an itsy bitsy thing that you are blowing out of proportions, sorta like entering a conversation you know nothing about and then start correcting people left and right. It makes little to no sense, and in most cases, even if you might be meaning well, you end up doing more harm than good. Like in this case. You didn’t get to teach someone something they didn’t already know. You didn’t stop someones inappropriate behavior. What you did on the other hand, was extinguishing someones last spark. Their last will to keep going. You take that to the bank now, and be proud of yourself. Was it worth it? You can always accuse and assume. You’re free to do just that. But maybe in the future, try to replace accuse and assume with politely asking if your ‘concern’ is valid or not. Try to be mindful, try to be kind, try to consider that maybe the person you are about to put on the school bench/attack/bully or whatever you are about to do, is fighting an invisible battle you know nothing about. Maybe you are going to be the last straw for them. So try to weigh it all, is your righteous crusade worth it? Is it worth it to spill your two cents on a possible harmless matter, just so you can feel you fought a righteous battle and took someone ‘evil’ down, whom in fact were just trying their best to survive, by doing the one thing that helps them through it all, in their own little corner, harming no one. You know, there are tons of people like that out there. Making someone online feel so absolutely useless/worthless that they end up taking their own lives. Then blame the victims for it. Now, I might be a pretty strong person, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be at the end of my rope, and you simply don’t know. Do you? Thank you for taking your time to extinguish my last spark.

46 notes · View notes

doomstypewriter · 4 years ago

Note

abt the last ask: u dont have to include it ofc (if u write it at all) but i thought id let u know that its based on the mental image i suddenly had of j climbing up to pats window, knocking on the shutters, pat pulling him in by his lapels and immediately kissing him (if you can even call it that with how hard theyre smiling) & then sometime later pat hearing like his dads footsteps coming toward his room as theyre making out so pat scrambles off his bf & shoves him in his closet (the irony)

Anon, finally, here you have it, but with a twist. This got completely out of hand, as per usual when I write anything. Since you were so nice (/li) to send me your request in two parts, I will actually break your prompt into two parts, otherwise, it’s never going to end. I hope you’re pleased by the first part, also, I am answering to this first because it matches the content of the first part.

Thank you so much for your lovely prompt! Hope you enjoy!

If anyone wants to be tagged for this let me know in a comment!

AO3

Chapter 2 >>

We call it an affair because it’s a forbidden romance

Summary: An encounter in the dark. The disdain of society. A forbidden romance. Royalty is involved and a title is at stake. Will an aspiring count, Patton Morandi and his rogue lover Janus overcome the barriers laid in front of them?

(We're in it for the drama)

---

“So long away and what I least expect is not you saving my life, but finding myself having missed your nonsense”.

“Is it nonsense when I make you smile like this?”

Word count: 3848

Pairings: Moceit, future Prinxiety.

TW: Homophobia, internalised homophobia, deadnaming a trans person, misogyny, mentions of religion, hopelessness, ideological things you would expect from the period (I'm not sure if there's anything else, but please tell me).

Chapter 1 of 2:

Balcony kiss

How the moonlight shone in its quiet dance with the nightly air. It was a mostly clear summer evening, the second day of the week-long festival. The sounds of music and colourful lights could be heard and seen from the distance, but gradually decreased as a certain thief made its way across the gardens of Villa Morandi. For certain, the head of the family would not be excessively happy about the entire ordeal, but no disgruntlement could come out of those things of which one has no knowledge of, and Janus surely intended to keep his entanglement a secret.

He crossed the bushes and jumped over marble balustrades expertly, careful to avoid the lights of the servant quarters, where their residents were reading themselves for departure.

“Signor Morandi seems to be in good spirits lately, it is fortunate that most of us can leave for the festival”.

Any news about the man was something worth listening to, given his situation, so he decided to stay and see if they mentioned something useful. Also, he, admittedly, enjoyed gossip.

“Loretta! Don’t be such a bragger in front of us!”

“Why? I’d say the only one lamenting not being able to go is you. You should be ashamed for dragging poor Virginia in with you to make yourself sound less self-centred”.

Janus silently nodded.

“That is not true! I am merely trying to make the newcomer feel welcome! And here you are making her feel excluded, who is now in the wrong?”

Weak retort, wannabe-partygoer, he thought.

“Va, va…” the other maid answered dismissively “Quit holding her like that! Don’t you see she’s uncomfortable?! Povera bambina”.

“Come on Virginia, don’t you think it’s a waste for such a wrinkly woman to be let out instead of us?”

“Who are you calling old?!”

“You did, but now that you so kindly brought it up, you are old! Turning wrinklier by the second!”

Alright, at this point, Janus could not help but be rooting for Loretta, going for the old card was the low-hanging fruit.

“I may be your senior, but I promise you that regardless of that nonsense about wrinkles you’re babbling I’m ten times more fair looking!”

“Ah!” she exclaimed with feigned indignation. “Can you believe her? She’s delusional!”

“Well then, the delusional one will not search for a man at the festival, such a pity I will not be introducing anyone to you this week!”

He smiled at the comeback. Way to go, Loretta.

“Loretta! Just because you had the luck to get engaged doesn’t give you the right to rob others of their chances. Don’t be so mean, I’ll apologise if I must”.

“Alright, but never dare call me wrinkly again, for you will owe this old woman when I find you a husband. Virginia, I can help you too if you want it, I know plenty of young lads who would love to…”

“Oh, no, I’m not really interested”.

At this point Janus had quenched his thirst for amusement and begun to lose his interest, having more pressing matters to attend to. But, one new comment made him reconsider the usefulness of his eavesdropping for longer on the ladies’ conversation.

“That’s right, Loretta, don’t you see she’s here on official duty. To suggest for her to slack off with men… ts, ts… “

“Oh, you shut up! Don’t fret, Virginia, dear, I should have remembered you were sent for an urgent matter”.

“True, true! Tell us if you can, is it as they say? Was her ladyship done in by pirates?”

“Elda! Such crude language, you dare call yourself a lady, how can you say something so insensitive?”

“What? You want to know as badly as I do, besides, if it is true, then there is no changing it, and if it’s not then it’s fine, as her ladyship is still alive”.

“I’m so sorry, Virginia, just ignore her”.

“Don’t worry. As far as I’m willing to say, her ladyship still lives but I cannot disclose any further information”.

Oh.

No.

When one spies on others, bad news exists as a possibility, but, usually, in the form of getting caught. This happened to be worse. Being spotted? That he could deal with. Having his heart ripped out after one stellar month? Not so much.

He ran.

Not from his problems. More or less towards them.

The marble balcony seemed as unreachable as ever. A sense of dread loomed over his thoughts, while a mix of feelings, now turned into urgency, settled in his heart.

Raising a hand Janus willed his trustworthy companion to fall from the nightly skies. Meanwhile, he began to climb the walls of the manor. There was an undeserved elegance in his motions, not becoming of such an honourless goal, and, nevertheless, fitting for a thief like him.

The hawk swept inside the room from a window and cast the doors to the balcony open.

Janus promptly grabbed onto the bass of the marble balustrade. One month ago he had received news of something that would simplify his life. He knew he should not care, it was going to end poorly no matter what. But, rereading two months worth of love letters and hoping for an uncertain future, he could not help but feel happy. That made his resolve to return in time for the festival.

From the room came a sound of rushing footsteps.

Three months of yearning to see a face again.

That image made Janus more desperate, and, in his haste, he committed one fatal mistake. His grip on the marble slipped. At a thirty feet height, the ground beckoned him.

But, just when his doom seemed so certain, he was caught by the front of his cape and safely gathered against a pair of lips.

With such smiles stretching their faces, it could barely be called a kiss. But, the intensity of the affections behind it rendered the notion meaningless.

“My love”, Janus muttered as they parted ever so slightly.

“You scared me, silly. I miss you for three months and when you’re returned to me I almost lose you for good”.

“Let’s be happy you were there to catch me”.

“Thank the Lord, and if He wills it, I will always be”.

“I ought to be grateful to you, my dear, not the ones above” he answered while stepping to the safe side of the balcony.

“Well, our poor feathery friend can’t be too happy about that” Patton laughed dismissively, gazing at Janus’ hawk.

“You’re right. I neglect to show my gratitude, perhaps you could give me somewhere to start?”

“Oh, but how can I hand you my room, my sweet, the stones of the house are too heavy!”

“So long away and what I least expect is not you saving my life, but finding myself having missed your nonsense”.

“Is it nonsense when I make you smile like this?”

Janus laughed in delight.

“Let me make you smile in turn, then”, he said, whilst extending his hand.

The touch of Patton’s palm felt like a warm pressure through the barrier of his leather gloves. Perhaps all of his interactions were as imperfect as their naked hands not being able to meet. Janus’ fake gallantry, their hopes, may be short-lived in the face of change. But, for now, he would rather enjoy pretending.

He pulled Patton to the inside of the alcove.

“Are you refined now?” Patton laughed.

“Of course, I have always been. Whatever could lead you to ask such a question? If I were to be a thief, which I am not, I would be the most honourable”.

There was a certain amount of delight to be found in catching his lover in the midst of changing into his night robes, judging by those being laid out onto the bed’s ostentatious covers. Despite such a degree of luxury surrounding Patton, he still refused to task any servant to dress him. What was there not to love about the man?

Patton made a motion as if to hold his hands, only to surprise him by pulling his gloves off. Any other person, and it would have been a display of sensuality, coming from him, it was like movement turned into honey, perhaps a mixture of both. Indeed, there was everything to love about him.

Maybe not all. Janus dreaded to admit how deep in he had allowed himself to be for this man.

A fool for a good man.

His hands felt the light night coldness in their grip on the linen shirt. Janus almost wanted to chastise himself as the thought of kissing away the kiss of the midnight breeze came to mind. He hid in the curve of Patton’s neck, sliding his lips along it, feeling like a coward whispering a lie. Countless lies. Telling himself this was enough, that he could bear the thought of this man taken away from him by a woman, that the thrill in this forbidden form of vice was not his worry taking yet another disguise.

“Oh, you’re a thief alright”.

“Is there something of yours I happen to have taken?” Janus retorted with a vague tone of amusement.

Patton cradled his left cheek in a firm request to see his face. Who was Janus to deny him?

“You know all too well you have”.

Oh.

“Well, that would make two of us”.

Patton’s expression melted into more honey. It always made Janus unsure as to whether he had made a mistake, no matter how unfounded the doubt was.

“Thank you” the words rebounded in proximity against the other’s lips. Janus didn’t know Patton could also be cruel.

“A little sincerity never hurt anyone”.

“You are not anyone” he smiled softly.

“Then make the pain up to me”.

Both their lips made contact like a wax seal on a letter. Janus pushed Patton against a low piece of furniture. From how the other fumbled, he could tell a corner was pressing against him. Despite the sting, Patton still committed himself to their affections. If that wasn’t a metaphor for their relationship Janus didn’t know what it was. Janus knew Patton would disagree, of course.

It seemed that exchanging one piece of furniture for another, the bed, would not be possible. Someone was knocking on the door.

“Janus…” Patton panicked in a hushed voice.

“Not a problem, my dear, this is my speciality” he smiled at him.

Janus’ feet almost flew over the carpet, muffled by the Persian fibres and his expertise on avoiding the parts of the floor that creaked. He turned the key of Patton’s wardrobe without the distinctive noise most people couldn’t avoid. Luckily for them, he wasn’t most people. The door mysteriously closed itself from the inside. Janus could swear to hear Patton draw a breath in wonder as to how he had done it.

“My son, let me in!” a voice came from the corridor.

“On my way, father”.

The mule-like bray of the alcove’s door hinges Janus detested preceded the sound of a set of footsteps he knew and loathed just as well, if not more.

“Were you reading yourself for bed? Ah, do not answer, I can already see your night robes over there. How many times need I tell you, call the servants to dress you, it is unbecoming that you do not. Moreso with the status you are to acquire”.

Janus almost scoffed upon hearing it.

It wasn’t that Janus outright looked down on Signor Morandi. He certainly held an admirable reputation and an even more admirable wealth. He contributed to the church, upheld his honour, was a patron to a few talented artists and did everything expected from someone of his status. By societal definition, he was an outstanding man. But, he could never understand Patton. Yes, Patton’s behaviour in public also stood to scrutiny. He was a young man to be admired, for sure. Yet, it somehow mismatched any other person’s strive for reputability. Patton lacked this performative quality, eagerness, if you will, that he found time and time again in people.

At first, Janus struggled to comprehend it. Everyone had desires outside of the strictly polite, they either pretended they didn’t or tried to hide it, that’s why they paid the church, after all. Janus didn’t believe people made an effort to actively align with the global canon for morality, just to look like it or deceive themselves. This theory on society made it so when he met Patton he simply dismissed him as a try-hard, later to relabel him as self-deceiving. Maybe he was a victim of his own biased cynicism.

As they grew closer, he started to get the whole picture. To his surprise, Patton tried to get his desires to align with what he perceived as morally correct, sometimes failing miserably. Janus’ presence in his room didn’t qualify as a success by society’s criteria... Patton’s effort to be ‘good’ did not come from a place of wishing to be perceived as such. Patton didn’t want to look good, he needed to be good. A good man. The realisation was hard to process but true.

Once he understood that, Janus could not let go. It stands to reason that, if that kind of person were to earn his affection, someone like his father would awaken his spite. Signor Morandi had simply never made an effort to understand his son’s motivations, unlike Janus. If he was a cynic, Patton was a victim to his own good intentions.

“I do not understand”.

“Lady Renata Regio is alive”.

“Oh”.

“Yes, it is most fortunate, you will no longer have to stay inside and miss the festival”.

“Well, father, I am not sure if that is appropriate, her ladyship must be feeling poorly after such a horrid experience. Perhaps it is best if I stay in and promptly send a letter to help soothe her”.

“Patton, it honours you to be willing to put the weak’s suffering before yours, but it is not needed in this case. You do not have to concern yourself with her. I am afraid that she is safe and sound on the account of having planned her own kidnapping. Lady Renata Regio has joined the pirates bringing disgrace upon her family, the wretched woman”.

Yes! Janus thought. Neither the wardrobe nor the entire room could contain his joy at hearing it.

“That is most unfortunate, should I reassure her family that I do not hold any resentment towards them?”

“It would be no good, there is going to be a scandal!” Signor Morandi sounded too happy.

Janus could not help but to smile a little.

“Are we going to pursue any retaliation?” Janus almost saw Patton shudder in the tone he used. “I do not think it necessary, it is a matter of marriage, although important, there are many other options that--”

“Yes, there are many other women to pursue, that is the spirit! In said spirits, I must inform you of the most wonderful news I have just received”.

What?

“Today a trusted servant from the Regio estate arrived at our home”.

“Yes, Virginia Fusco”, of course, Patton knew her name. “I personally received her, she refused to tell me exactly why she was sent here, also insisted to wait to talk to you”.

“Precisely, well, it turns out she is the personal servant of Lady Romina Regio”.

“The eldest of the twin daughters of the Regio?”

“Indeed. Let me be frank with you son, the Regio know they cannot keep the true actions of their lesser daughter hidden forever, a rumour is meant to surface eventually. This is very unfortunate for them, I have heard they were planning to match Lady Romina with a higher member of the nobility. Her sister’s actions have ruined her chances, it is unlikely that whoever was to marry her will accept such a union. My son, you know I always have your best interests in mind, Lady Renata Regio was a fine choice to provide you with connections to nobility. In turn, her family would have got access to our wealth, which, after their losses in the war, they need”.

Oh no.

“This being the circumstances, they have to choose how to align themselves in the future and what would be more advantageous to the family”.

“Shit” Janus said under his breath.

“We are about to reach an agreement for a marriage between Lady Romina Regio and you. I need you to understand that, if you are to accept, you will have to face some troubles, at least initially. The rumours about Lady Renata’s motivations may taint your reputation for a short while and the Regio’s rush to marry off Lady Romina will raise more rumours”.

“What choice would please you the most?”

“Oh, Patton, you idiot”.

“The union could make your child a count, you could potentially obtain a title depending on how we negotiate with the family. It is my wish that you accept this marriage”.

“Will this bring honour to our family?”

“Certainly”.

“Then…” an air of doubt went through Patton’s voice.

Janus was debating whether or not to burst out of the closet, either to tell him to refuse or to scold him for not accepting immediately what was probably the best opportunity of his life.

“Of course I will accept”.

“You make me very happy and proud, my son. I will meet with the servant girl to send her back with a letter requesting to meet with Lord Regio”.

The words were spoken carelessly. Signor Morandi often did that around his son, not knowing how many times he had been overheard by him. He may be a great man by society’s standards, but he could never be a good man.

Janus slumped against the back of the wardrobe, surrounded by pieces of clothing he could never afford. There was a world in which Patton had refused. But Patton hadn’t been left a real choice, so he could find some comfort in knowing this thing between the two had to end due to him being backed into a corner. Better than having Patton’s morals come between them. That, he would never reconcile with.

This was better than before. Being cast away for something as mundane as marriage, no matter the useful connections involved, was one thing, being left for a countess, well, if that’s what it took to refuse him he wouldn’t complain too much.

He would have preferred a marchioness or a duchess.

He would have preferred to be the only thing standing in between Patton and kingship and still win.

He would definitely prefer it if Signor Morandi was to accidentally fall down a flight of stairs on his way to writing his pesky letter.

There was nothing like a fire to persuade someone, even a countess…

But Patton would be upset.

His hawk screeched from the roofs above. Then footsteps rushed to his side, followed by candlelight flooding the inside of the closet.

Patton had no right to look so humble yet so marvellous. Not even the warmth of the flame could rival with that of his gaze. A gaze that was his’, not of any countess. But, still, a gaze that deserved to become a count.

“Janus…”

Honey clogging up his ears, that was the shape of a whisper.

“I suppose”, he shook off the dust of his cape and held his head up with dignity, “this is when we part. I’d love to say it’s a pity, but we saw it coming. Guess it was nice to enjoy it while it lasted. I’m always a letter away, my dear, that countess of yours wouldn’t ever find out”.

This was the bitter taste of selflessness. He never understood how Patton enjoyed it.

Janus turned around, ready to make his merry way out of Villa Morandi or fall off the balcony properly this time. Suddenly, Patton’s armed chained the two of them to their spot in the room. Patton’s chest heaved pitifully in a mockery of a hiccup.

“I’m sorry. What was I supposed to do? There was no other choice. I didn’t wish to upset you. Please--”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He promptly let him go.

“I…”

Janus turned back to face him.

“You think crying will make this easier? Do you seriously think I enjoy this? I would gladly rob you of everything and have you entirely to myself. It is taking so much self-restraint to not get your father into a tragic accident, my dear. If anything, you’re making it worse by crying. I am doing this for you. Don’t you dare ruin the one honourable thing I will do in my life”.

“How can I pretend to be happy when you’re leaving?”

There were sparks of light encased in his tears. Something about their ironic beauty left him even more heart-broken.

“What am I going to do, then? I can be selfish to an extent, but I cannot take the rest of your life too. You’re being offered a title and a wife, all the things someone at your level could wish for. Don’t be more of an imbecile, keep it. It is already inappropriate for you to be seen with the likes of me, and it’s even worse with me being a man”.

“You’ve never cared about that”.

“But you do! Let resume, dear”, he tried to say in his most condescending voice. It didn’t sound even remotely like it. “You go to church each Sunday, you have five bibles just in this room and the most sincere good-samaritan complex I have ever seen. I know you can’t bear to live in sin”.

“I can’t bear to live without you either!”

Oh, Patton, you fool, silly, ridiculous man…

“What…” he felt as if he was going crazy.

A chuckle escaped through the spaces in between his teeth. Janus looked downwards and whispered.

“What are you saying?”

This self-consciousness, he had never felt anything like it before. Was he blushing?

“I love you… I know it’s wrong, so why doesn’t it feel like it?”

More honey. What a way for his plan to backfire.

“This is ridiculous, you should be concerning yourself with more important--”

Patton placed the back of his hand under his jaw to raise his head with such gentleness... stupid.

“Is it ridiculous when it’s making you cry like this?”

A compassionate man’s tears were not worth his. He had never been as sure as now that this was a mistake. Yet he longed for him more than ever.

“Of course not” he wiped away his tears feigning some kind of dignity.

As quickly as ever, he also pretended to regain his composure.

“Do you have any sort of plan for what you’re going to do next? Under pressure, you’re a terrible improviser, my love”.

“Well...I can’t let you go. I know as much. I should, for my family, father, my honour. But I will not. You’ve shown me that acting selfishly doesn’t make someone evil. I will find a way to fulfil my duty without giving you up, you have my word”.

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