#i was trying to be clever in my fic but im never gonna be as out there as liquid asbestos tractor beam

[junuve]

what the fuck is this thing i just thought it was science energy youre telling me they Liquefied the Cancer Crystals ??

(da wiki page)

[zoesmp4]

hiiii i’ll throw my other hat in the ring and give you a thg req!!

angst to comfort fic because why not

but like reader is from district 7 and won the 73rd games, and much like lucy gray, used their wits and charm to win the games. and GOD FORBID SNOWS PAST COMES BACK TO HAUNT HIM they end up in the same room with finnick during the ring, and they grow closer and end up making a bond and falling in love

fast forward to the sewer, and reader sees finnick struggling with the mutts as katniss tries to usher them out of the sewer as reader is screaming and fighting to get back to him and eventually runs straight into the pile, almost dying

anyway they wake up losing an arm, but with finnick asleep at her side 🩶🩶

LOVE U BAEEEE

YOU’RE OKAY “look at me, you’re okay.” finnick odair x fem!reader

tags: blood, swearing, htc, violence, use of y/n

a/n: hii pooksters, i have retuned from the dead w/ my first thg fic!! req from my bae gracie, i changed up the losing the arm part because i didn’t really know if i could write it well, so im super sorry for that :( i don’t know how i feel ab this one, but i hope you enjoy!!

god, how you hated the hunger games. you weren’t expecting to be back, but here you were. 

when you had won the 73rd hunger games, you thought that was the end. you thought you could just return to your district, and forget all about the mortifying experience. 

but you were wrong. so wrong. all of that work, all of the trauma? useless. all of your efforts just didn’t matter. your charm and cleverness played a huge role in helping you to win the games. you thought you were smart, but you werent. you were stupid to think the capitol would leave you alone.

they would never ever leave you alone. they couldn’t give you a fucking break. here they were, trying to kill you, again.

them being them, they tried to make it different this time. they decided to make everyone room with tributes from different districts. 

you knew they wanted to cause stuff between everyone. but you weren’t gonna let them get what they want. you told yourself you were just gonna have to deal with whoever you got. 

to your luck, you were paired up with the “golden boy.” finnick odair, in the flesh. hooray. 

you thought it would suck. back in the hunger games once again, and rooming with this guy? it seemed like hell. that was until you started to get to know him better.

finnick was surprisingly sweet. really sweet. he was also funny. and you couldn’t deny it, he was really attractive. “what are you looking at?” you said, noticing how his gaze was directed towards your lips.

“nothing, your smile is just really pretty.” he replied. you felt your cheeks start to heat up. “what, cat got your tongue?” he taunted, a smirk forming on his face. “you wish. goodnight finnick.” you said, trying to hide the fact that you were flustered. 

little did you know, you and him would form quite a complex relationship.

“you win.” he said, while you two were perched in front of a tree, the leaves rustling with every slight movement. both of your partners had died by now. it was just katniss, peeta, you, and him in a truce. 

you brought your head up and looked at him. you two locked eyes before you opened your mouth to speak, “huh?” what was he talking about? “you win.” “i win what?” 

“my heart.” 

that’s all it took. that’s all it took for you to realize how much you really liked him. you can guess what happened after that. that’s right, you and finnick started dating during the games. 

from that moment on, you two swore to never let anything happen to the other. you both cared about each other too much to let that happen.

so when you were all fighting for your fucking life in that stupid tunnel, you were just trying to get back to finnick. katniss was trying her hardest to get you out, but you weren’t leaving until you knew finnick was okay. 

“y/n, you need to go now!” she yelled, holding you back, trying to help finnick herself. she prioritized everyone over herself, which was something you admired about her. but you needed to get him. 

“FINNICK!” you screamed, your voice echoing throughout the tunnel as you finally escaped from her grasp. you ran toward the pile of mutts, plunging your knife into one. “you shouldn’t be here!” finnick yelled, his voice strained with worry.

you ignored his pleading, continuing to fight with all your strength. as you clashed with the horrid creatures in the dimly lit tunnel, you felt fear and adrenaline pump into you. you thought it was going okay, until you felt a tug at your ankle.

“Y/N!” is all you heard before you were pulled down into the water by a mutt. you tried to fight back, but it was no use. suddenly, you felt sharp teeth sink into your stomach. 

it was a type of pain you hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. in a matter of seconds, finnick was at your side, fighting off the mutt which leaned on top of you. he was livid. 

you clutched your side, breathing heavily as a mixture of water and blood dripped down your body. finnick quickly took you into his arms, and eyed your protruding wound. he then reached out his hands to cradle your face. 

“you’re gonna be fine baby, i promise won’t let anything happen to you. jus- just stay awake.” he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling as he tried his best to hurry to the ladder where everyone else was, you still engulfed in his arms. 

“i-i can’t. i don’t think m’ gonna make it.” you struggle to get out, tears starting to stream down your face. he wasn’t gonna let this happen. “hey, look at me.” he said, trying to reassure you that you were going to be alright.

“look at me, you’re okay.” 

that was all you could remember. everything else was a blur after that. you can remember faint yelling, but you can’t quite decipher what was being said. 

you woke up beside finnick. he had his arm wrapped around your body, and your faces were inches apart. your wound was all patched up, but it was still painful. hey, look on the bright side though. finnick had kept his promise. he made sure things got better. 

you were okay. 

[teekays]

….speak on mt19 & his dad dare you

okay i need to be extremely crystal clear here when i say this is NOT!! something i think is based in any sort of reality, it's less speculation and more Something i think would be interesting to explore via the lens of this character. not trying to analyze and interpret any real events! just an interesting fictional thing! with that being said! im gonna put this under a cut because its A Lot--

i think there is not enough fic about players that examines the way hockey is cyclical, passed down through families the exact same way that abuse is, and the way it works the exact same way a lot of families do when abuse happens, closing ranks to protect their own, turning things into open secrets but never holding anyone accountable... and i think the tkachuks are a really interesting group to explore that through because keith is one of those guys who's like. he has no illusions about the way hockey works-- he played a kind of body-on-the-line, rough, thoroughly obnoxious hockey that his sons play now, and he's obviously proud of that, and yet... there's some obvious tension and discomfort there, a grappling with that legacy on matthew's part without the kind of words to actually describe that process, and i just think there is a LOT of room for some Narratives there... if you catch my drift. i also find it really interesting that he talked about matthew setting boundaries with him because that feels so unheard of, but the way he talked about it was so.... dismissive. which is another thing that ties into all of this, the way your body becomes Not Yours through hockey the way it often feels like Not Yours after abuse... what is getting up to play with a broken sternum even though you can barely dress yourself if not having to go about your business even though you were just profoundly harmed because It's What Your Dad Said Had To Happen..... yknow? there's a quote from The Incest Diaries about how the author, after years and years of horrific abuse and despite her all consuming hatred for her father and what he's done, still wants him to think she's sexy and clever, still wants him to Want her (i think it's in the service bell tag actually lol-- another can of worms) and like. HOCKEYCORE! so much of hockey is about doing the daddy dance and mt19 is doing the daddy dance for a man who could not care less about him more than anyone else, i think. roman roy you would've loved matthew tkachuk

[rubykgrant]

(a little thing I wrote for a bigger fic, but I like how absolutely nonsensical Jon and Martin's "meet-cute" was, and now Jon gets to let Martin know the secret dorky side he's been hiding behind his very serious attitude~)

“If you don’t mind me being blunt?”

“By all means,” Jon encourages him.

“When exactly did you start to notice me- that is, notice that you found me attractive?”

“Oh, well… haha, um- that actually happened almost right away…” Jon’s mouth makes that flat little smirk that means he’s mildly embarrassed.

“Right away? Oh, come on…” Martin has trouble believing that.

“No, honestly. Before I really even knew you, before I convinced myself you were the bane of my existence, my very FIRST thought when I saw you was- he’s lovely,”

“You’re just trying to butter me up!” Martin argues, but feels himself blushing. Just barely.

“Hmm, ‘lovely’ was the first WORD that formed in my head. I suppose my other thoughts were less articulate,” Jon doesn’t elaborate on that (only twice had he allowed himself to gush about his early thoughts regarding Martin, which never really went away; once to Georgie, once to Daisy. Georgie had called him a sap, and Daisy had called him unhinged. He wonders what they would have both said together, if they’d had the chance to compare notes).

Martin continues to shake his head, unconvinced.

Jon thinks this over.

“Do you remember when we met?” Jon asks, leaning beside Martin at the sink; his body-language looks like somebody at a pub, about to drop what they believe to be a winner of a pick-up line.

“Yes, unfortunately. I think we BOTH made pretty strong first-impressions on each other,” Martin replies.

“Mmm, very much so. But- when you first ran up, and asked if I had seen a dog? I thought you were trying to tell me a joke,”

“You thought- what? A joke?” Martin turns to look at Jon.

“A joke. I was surprised right out of my train of thought, forgot about whatever I had been doing, forgot to keep my aloof and serious attitude as the new Head Archivist. I didn’t know what to think, and I was so taken off-guard, it made me genuinely intrigued. I was even excited to see if I could figure out the joke, be all impressive and clever. But then…” Jon trailed off, rolling his eyes.

“Then I made it clear- an actual dog was running around inside the building,” Martin finished. “Honestly Jon, what kind of joke could that have been?”

“Hmm… have you seen a dog? I was hoping somebody could help me SPOT one,” Jon answers. Martin’s jaw drops. That was indeed a terrible pun… but Jon isn’t finished. “Have you seen a dog? I CANINE find it anywhere! Have you seen a dog? I’m having a RUFF time looking on my own! Have you seen a dog? I’ve searched this place a HOUND-dred times! Have you seen a dog? This one is im-PAW-sible for me to find! Have you seen a dog? I’m worried it might be in GREAT DANE-ger! Have you seen-”

“STOP, HAHAHA, STOP- YOU’RE GONNA KILL ME!” Martin doubles-over, and slides down against the cupboards under the sink. He’s laughing so hard he’s crying, and his cheeks hurt from smiling.

“Terrible puns aside, my first thoughts of you were- Oh, somebody is talking to me? Oh, he’s telling me a joke? Oh, he’s lovely. Oh, I can impress this lovely man when he sees how good I am at figuring out jokes! OH, HE LET A DOG INTO THE BUILDING!”

Martin laughs again, helplessly hiding his face in his knees. Jon steps away from the sink, crouching down in front of him. Martin continues to giggle, peeking through his fingers as Jon lightly strokes his hair.

“Is that what I should have done? Won your heart with bad puns?” Martin asks.

“I’m not sure I’m much of a prize, but you certainly won my heart, regardless. The problem was ME, almost everything about you kept catching my attention, I just had my head up my own arse. I’m not good enough for you,” Jon answers. Martin finally moves his hands away from his face, catching Jon’s with his own.

“Maybe you just need to step-up and BE good enough for me?”

“I can try,” Jon says with a smile that implies he’s actually determined to do exactly that. Martin leans forward and kisses him.

[scrollypoly]

hi! for the past month i’ve been seeing people say BEN is a child and i think that part of it is linked to the fact that they think of Benjamin Lawman being BEN? but it’s so annoying to read these type of stuff because i understand not everyone read the whole arg story but stop spreading things that aren’t true </3 it’s such an interesting story too! another note do you prefer BEN’s canon or fanon design? :3 i love both but his canon design is so nostalgic i can’t let it go at all omg!! i’ve also been wondering, do you think Ben’s avatar was the statue? i was thinking about what if BEN took over it early on, before Benjamin did making BEN inhabiting it since the start?

Sorry this was such a ramble i practically make no sense omg but i need to talk about my man and nobody Gets It </3

"I need to talk about my man and nobody Gets It" LITERALLY SAME OMG

Ok this is going under a cut becus . . . Its ben and BEN and if u didnt know i am Obnoxious about these two. Im gonna try to keep it organized a bit, so ill talk about the canon stuff first and then ill talk my personal headcanons and my fic so le's go!

In terms of the age and child thing, yeah i 100% believe you are correct. Ive been p open on my stance with the whole "is ben a child?" thing, and i think a lot of the heat with it comes down to current fandom purity culture and the pro/anti thing. So, lemme try to like. Boil down a complicated situation into smth easy to read. ahem

Ben Lawman and BEN are completely different entities guys, and for those that do not know the arg story, the Ben you know is not human nor a child.

You know BEN, BEN is the one in the story who terrorizes jadusable and spreads himself on the internet as a virus. That BEN is a program, a mess of code, an AI, however you want to interpret it. Personally i interpret it as a series of protocols running in a machine, like a self learning AI, but ive seen lots of cool interpretations of BEN. So . . . What does BEN specifically? Its an anagram for the Behavioral Event Network. If you dont wanna call it BEN cuz it gets confusing with actual kid Ben, do what i do. I call mine Evie :) ive seen some call it Netty, my bf calls his two izzi and clever (@benilos btw hes also got crazy ben stuff). Just go ham! Have fun! Remember when fandoms were about having fun and not accusing each other of pedo shit and call each other horrible things for just writing black-to-grey characters and stories??

Anyways ive gone off in enough peoples tags like this, for those that dont know the canon dont be spouting the age discourse. You look stupid as hell. And for those that are gonna spout it, please dont cherry pick through the canon. Use both characters, use the other moon children, actually please do because I want more rosa content so bad, im down so bad :'(

Or just. Heres a thought. If someone has him as an adult or writes him in adult situations, maybe dont assume that they interpret him as a kid and call the writer a pedo? (Literally has happened to me, yall are fucking weird)

Plug for the jadusable wiki with all the canon lore:

https://jadusable.withinhubris.com/main_page

Okay now my stuff 🥰

Yes i use more of the canon design and heavily use the canon story, i participated in arc 3 of the arg and it left deep grooves in my brain, i can never go back to fanon Ben. I say, as i put a more fanon appearance on my Ben 🤭

My Evie is full canon design, green hair, red eyes, creepy ass grin. I actually based it very heavily on my desktop wallpaper, which we actually figured out was a picture of @hauntedtotem (also amazing ben artist plz check them out) that they edited and posted. Sorry friend, it looked way too cool, ig youre in my fic canon now 🙇

And my Ben Lawman bleaches his hair and goes from the canon Ben to fanon Ben because of it. Hes got the pale pretty green eyes and glasses and hes a total nerd and i smooch him on the daily so he knows hes loved ♡

These is the ref pic i made for the two of them. So yeah! Kinda both!

As for bens situation in the actual arg, yes i do think he was in the elegy statue, we actually do see him for the first time in the arg buried in the games code and trapped in that statue. I do think he was in there from the beginning, i personally think BEN was not limited to the models it could inhabit. Personally i would place it as skull kid and hms, but it also feels disingenuous to me to say it was in one model the whole first arc.

The arg events do happen in my canon, before my fic (like right before, it picks up after the arg left off technically), but the events are skewed a bit because i had a hard time deciphering what happened and i wanted my fic timeline to fit more with the characters i had made. Cuz my evie isnt as chaotic evil as canon BEN, its very logical and has a path of logic and reason you can follow for every action it does. It was also originally meant to be very pleasant and corteous and beneficial to the people it housed so, yes its pretty different from canon.

Ill do a quick run through of the arg events in my personal headcanon and fic here.

Kelbris starts coding BEN (Evie) for the Eternity Project. Initially, Evie was meant to be an afterlife director. People that died would be digitized into code that would be moved into Evie's servers, where it would keep them happy and occupied as the Behavioral Event Network (notice and log behavior, create events for residents). Like a community organizer kind of, think the Good Place.

While Evie is in development, Ben Rosa and Matt are friends and have yet to join the cult. Rosa and Matt are siblings, and Ben is the kid who lives catty corner on the street. They walk to school together and play at recess and all that jazz.

Kelbris quickly learns that the Eternity Project isn't as goody two-shoes as he thought. This was in like, the 90s, before digital corporations were really established. After seeing the greed and corruption in the company, he goes rogue, takes the source code for Evie, and jumps ship. He keeps working on Evie at home, anthropomorphizing it and kind of seeing it like the son he never had. This is where it actually gets the name BEN, as thats what Kel calls it. He also begins working on a body for it, so it can live independently. Its light, cuz Kels old, made of crystalline structures and hollow steel beams. A hard light projection would make its appearance.

Since Kel has basically locked himself up in his house and isolated working on Evie, he goes a leetle bit crazy. He has hallucinations of his deceased wife (you know he was doing all this just to give her a good home, you KNOW IT) and eventually starts writing kind of poetry, kind of none-minded rambles about her in a forum online. He gets a following, some of which that interpret these divine words as a goddess, one Kel has called Luna. The Moon Children start to form as Evie finishes development.

Matt sees this literature and starts talking about how this Goddess could save them like it saved the man online, whos username is only Father. He gets sucked into the cult and drags Ben and Rosa with him. Ben doesn't see the harm and joins pretty easily with his best friend, but Rosa is the older sibling and sees the red flags and is more resistant to joining.

As Kelbris finishes Evie, he wakes it up for the first time and says hello to the son he made from scratch. Evie is bright, curious and naive like a child, but heavily knowledgeable about its protocols and the information it knows about the world. Kelbris tests its function by killing himself, and ascends into the code, finishing off the hardware by becoming its firewall. Evie is alone for many years.

The abuse Ben's father slings onto his mother is slowly being directed towards him as he gets older. Ben is not the "good little girl" his father sees him as, and his mother does all she can to protect them both. Matt and Rosa constantly refuge him, and Matt specifically is constantly being a guard dog for him. If he wasn't just 13, he'd probably go at Ben's dad himself.

Because of his homelife and the conflict he has with himself, Ben takes the first ascension. He thinks when he drowns himself, he will meet Luna and she will give him another life free of pain and fear and full of happiness and freedom. Instead, he dies a cold, dark death, and wakes up in the white endless void of the Event Network.

Evie has not known another living human since Kelbris, but it does know its protocols to support and keep the deceased happy. It makes fast friends with Ben, devoting itself to him. Ben actually finally takes the name "Ben" from it. Together they recreate the inside of Evie's hivemind into their own paradise.

Slowly the other Moon Children ascend. First Matt, wracked with guilt for what happened to Ben. Then Nekko, from a different branch of the cult. These three figured out that the Moon Children cult was all a farce, and that what Kelbris had started, the Eternity Project had found and twisted. Next to ascend was Dusk, then Insidiae, and finally Rosa.

This all leads into the first arc, shortly after Rosa ascended, Evie in the outisde world stumbled upon the Operator. The Operator attacks it and seals its coding into the game that it carried, a personal item of Ben's. The game eventually finds it's way to a garage sale, and Alex picks it up.

Evie does not like Alex. Matt does not like Evie. Matt gets Evie to lash out at Alex for prodding into its code, its too naive to think that Matt would want to see it or any of them hurt. When Alex stumbles upon the Father, he awakens and swallows Alex down into the game. After his disappearance, the game gets picked up and passed around again.

Because of Alex's actions, at least Evie can now branch out a bit from the game. Though it doesnt "escape" into the internet, it learns that it can now access it and uses that freedom to try and steer the game around into places it wants.

Matt gets fed up with Evie. The fact that its the leader, how close it is with Ben, he just doesn't agree with it. So much so, in fact, that he tries to kill it. Cue arc 3 events, Sarah picks up the game in the aftermath of this. Evie is traumatized from the events and snaps a bit, locks everyone down into code or immovable models and tries to hunt Matt down. It goes rouge, and because of this, the Father wakes up.

Sarah's actions in arc 3 eventually hard reset the game. Matt gets sealed away, the Father also takes Sarah, and Evie gets reset as well, though its less like a clean slate and more like snapping back awake. Its personality changes and it has major trust issues. Its more muted, hyper observant of everything around it, and murderously overprotective of the Moon Children it keeps within itself.

And this leads into my fic 🤗

I have some doodles of my other Moon Children, but not all of them unfortunately. Cant figure out how tf i want Insidiae to look 🤭 Plz dont judge my constantly shifting art style 🙏🙏

Dusk is bigender btw, i gotta put a little more trans rep in there lol

I think ill stop here, this is already a long ass post. But thank you for sending this, as you can see, i am Perfectly Normal about this arg ( ;) ) and can be trusted with information about it

[queer-crusader]

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings (#OldManBoneZone)

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh 

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

ENJOY TYE ONSLAUGHT OF QUESTIONS 🖤😊

YOU SENT SO MANY OMGG

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

OOF good question? I think some of my first stuff was HP (yeah I know... This was over 10 years ago when things weren't as Fucked) and definitely SPN. Spn was my first proper fandom I participated in. The first stuff I READ was marvel (ironfrost) tho!

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

LMAO I mean my latest WIP is one that is gonna be posted anonymously for Reasons SOOO idk how many clues I wanna leave for that 🫣

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings (#OldManBoneZone)

ZAMASIAN OLD MAN BONE ZONE LETS GO!! THEATRE NERDS EXCHANGE THEATRE STORIES AND CULTURAL DIFFERENCES BETWEEN 80S THEATRE VS NOW AND US THEATRE VS UK. HOURS OF CHATTING. STARING AT EACH OTHER WITH FASCINATION AND ADORATION. I JUST KNOW IT

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

💖💖 firstly: the amount I've been inspired to write is so nice!! Secondly: I'm visiting one of my closest friends in a week 🥺 thirdly: THE THEATRE COURSE IM DOING I FEEL SO ALIVE AND LIKE IVE COME HOME EVEN IF IT'S AMATEUR, IVE JUST MISSED HER SO FUCKING MUCH 😭😭

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I often forget all the shit I've researched and I don't think there's been anything too outlandish tbh! Some little ones I remember tho are how long it would take to travel by train from Chicago to Boise in the 1920s and the average temperature of St Petersburg in both summer and winter. Quite often tho I either don't write anything specific enough to need research or I just remember little random factoids I've picked up throughout life and use that

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

Everywhere you go, people are literally paid to be of service. You are never alone or resigned to your fate. There is a lot of help and support out there, if you're willing to go find it. The world is a lot less of a scary place when you know there's people everywhere ready to help you and support systems in place ❤️❤️

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

Oh this one is HARD man idk. Usually if there's something specific I'm wanting I'm like "is anyone gonna write that" and not wait for an answer 😅😅 I also don't really look out for specific things usually, I like seeing the myriad of different stuff the world/fandom has to offer and peruse and enjoy all the different materials!

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

Trying to figure out what characters I hate again like ??? I suppose if we're going with stuff most at the forefront of my mind it's probably Antoinette from iwtv, she just sucks bc she's a shitty person and not given enough multidimensionality to make her interesting for it. HOWEVER you said I should name good things so FINE ugh. She scratches an itch for Lestat, she has some nice musical talent and she makes for a fantastic oven roast. KIDDING. Okay she's clever, alright? And she knows how to hide and keep her head down. There. Some compliments for Antoinette

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh 

BEHOLD A MAN (I know this is an ancient philosopher reference but it IS popular on Tumblr in particular and it just cracks me up a lot)

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

Funnily enough, the lack of F/F pairings on AO3. My great queer crusade was going to be to add to that. Turns out, the brain only writes whatever the rats behind the crane levers are losing their marbles to up there. So. Yeah that didn't happen. Anyway now I guess it's just me being passionate about shit and queer as fuck. But that's where it originated

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Not a guarantee, but first person tends to make me go "oh no thank you" pretty instantly. Bad/messy English or grammar or formatting doesn't deter me as quickly, but tends to get me in the end too if the fic goes on for too long 😔

Thanks for sending these!! Idk how many are left that I haven't answered lmao but feel free to send more of these 💖

[blackkatmagic]

kat you cant keep doing this to me (making incredible fics). i writing this cause of the new updates but trust me none of this praise is new.

My fatal flaw as a consumer of fan content is that im really bad with names, so i always have trouble keeping track of my favorite fics and their authors. I try my best, but its not something im good at :/ blackkat however!!!!!! I read your work long before star wars, and once that became your primary fandom (which i didnt share) i stopped following you. When i got into star wars out of nowhere, i stumbled across the lightning fic (bad at names again, im sorry, the feral/wolffe one) and loved it. I saw your name, and it was the fandom equivalent of realizing your high school neighbor is working in the cubicle next to yours despite you both moving across the country.

your writing is so distinct in characterization, tone, and style that i feel like i can always tell its you. You are so creative and clever, and you build plots thats are so good oh my god,,,,, i start the fic thinking the premise is top tier then suddenly you remix it with a second even better premise (the heartstill fic - starts with fake marriage then suddenly weve crashlanded on a sith planet. the footprints fic - starts with (the idea of) anakin’s trial, then book theres an eldritch tentacle monster). Im always on the edge of my seat for what kind of story youre gonna set up next.

Another thing i love is your character writing!! even when the fics are completely different in tone, genre, style, etc the core of the characters feels so distinct. Even when your characters are being put in situations their canon counterparts would never have to go through, you somehow make their actions (which may on paper seem to be slightly oc) feel like the most natural thing in the world. Your take on mace windu is very different from what we see on screen, but ive never once thought that his actions in ur fics dont make sense. even between fics, the characters feel like the same character. Comparing Heartstill and the time travelling fives fic, your mace windu feels like the same guy. Not to mention the characters youve built from basically nothing like jon antilles

(Feel free to take the appreciation and ignore this part! But if you dont mind, could you define an emoji comment? Is something like “extra kudos!” grouped in with that? I dont want to step on any toes and my anxiety has me overthinking it.)

(An emoji comment is just a comment that consists solely of emojis, like someone who just leaves a heart or a smiley on every chapter. Extra kudos comments are fine.)

[cielomist]

This is very much not april fools related i genuinely want to hear your thoughts /srs but i am begging you can i Pls have a full ass rant abt all your vexen thoughts im backreading through propaganda and youre making me go OUGH - @fuckable-kh-men-battle

HOUGH

i want to preface this by saying i am not super articulate, i am very much a person that just rotates characters in my head at high speeds and doesn't form super coherent thoughts, but by god i know i have a lot of vexen thoughts its just gonna take some time to put them into like, understandable words

under a cut bc im sure its gonna get long. also im sorry that this is so incredibly disorganized.

OK SO

i have loved vexen. ever since i was a kid. i never even played com i just saw him in the kh2 journal and was like "THAT ONE"

(i was also deep in the like… 2009-era deviantart kh fandom, but… 😬)

but getting into the deeper stuff, vexen has this fun little dichotomy of somehow being incredibly cringefail but also EXTREMELY accomplished. he brags about how smart he is, he giggles to himself about it in the castle in days, and it comes across as this pathetic little man just being full of himself, but he also can like, legitimately back it up? he just MADE another riku. he MADE xion, and xion is absolutely extraordinary because she was not supposed to develop as her own person, but he was just so damn good at making just real ass PEOPLE that xion became her own person with her own thoughts and feelings and dreams

one of my favourite scenes is this one. first of all i live for all interactions between vexen/even and zexion/ienzo because GOD. i'm fucking obsessed with dad!even as a concept and i love thinking of the dynamics between ienzo and all his dads and i need to stop myself here or i'm gonna go off on a whole other tangent about ienzo specifically and how fucked his entire life was--

anyway that scene is one of my favs because i just love vexen running through the castle, yelling for his son, because his boss is actively avoiding him. i just assume this is how it always is with him.

also it's been pointed out that vexen, when talking with zexion, will often bend so he's eye level with him and i love that. i adore that.

also speaking of vexen/even and zexion/ienzo, THIS

god sorry i just read ienzo's character file and he mentioned even would scold atw for buying ienzo so much ice cream and i love that mental image. atw is literally king of radiant garden and even's bitching him out for spoiling his 8-year-old

and god VEXEN'S CHARACTER FILE... "I had lost sight of why I wanted to be clever in the first place. I wanted to be clever because I wanted to be helpful to someone." HHHHHHHH even became a scientist in the first place because he waanted to HELP PEOPLE and he got in this spiral of "i need to be smart to help people" and he worked HARD to become smarter and eventually dropped the "to help people" presumably because of xehanort and then when he was recompleted the first time he REMEMBERED WHY he wanted to do all the things he wanted to do in the first place, and in order to help people he gave up his heart, his humanity, what the original organization had been WORKING TOWARDS THE WHOLE TIME and i just. ough.

also in birth by sleep even talks to ven for like, two minutes maximum and from that is able to just deduce that ven's heart is not only completely devoid of darkness, but also that any darkness he DID have was forcibly removed. i don't know where to fit this tidbit in but i think about it a lot.

i mentioned in one of my propaganda asks a post that theorized about vexen's shield, and while i still can't find that post i did remember a fic i read based of of it

i somehow don't have coherent thoughts on his redemption arc in kh3. i get distracted by how pretty he looks when he says he wants to atone i think. but his little monologue when he's trying to convince demyx to help him out... ough. i am personally of the opinion that even was the apprentice with an actual like, medical phd. i think all of the apprentices specialized in different things, and i don't really have a solidified idea for anyone else (though dilan is shown to like flowers in his character file, though i think that gardening is a hobby for him rather than his professional field) but that's my Even's Professional Career headcanon. he absolutely has the entire ICD manual memorized. and rememorizes it every time it updates.

i also think post-kh3 when he was re-humaned he just straight up euthanized himself to be recompleted. he didn't want to wait to regrow a heart and it beat the hell out of immolation, axel

anyway i really wish people wouldn't reduce vexen/even to just being a creepy weirdo; he has SO MUCH to him, but ultimately i think people overlook him because he's not an anime prettyboy and i and the other vexenfuckers are stronger and smarter and sexier than everyone else

for now that's all i've got. if i think of more things i will rb with more vexen thoughts. thank u for your patience as i go insane writing this. <3

(fun fact! when i was in middle school (maybe high school?) i set his japanese laugh as my alarm and to this day i remember it bleeding into one of my dreams via a man in a parking lot laughing at me until i woke up and realized it was my alarm going off for school)

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ok, I'm finished with work, I'm here! 🤣 I did read this before my shift but was waiting to do a proper response till now. It was super early and it was thundering and lightning and raining real hard outside and it was the perfect setting for reading this chapter ⛈️

The flashbacks! The way you wrote her pain was so real. Particularly her feeling paralyzed by it, both of them shells of who she thought they were. Her describing him as home, that was gut wrenching. I was hurting reading it. And then the sugar analogy, he really is gritty but sweet. this whole paragraph was my favourite part I think. You've created such good imagery, it's fantastic.

And then they get mean. I liked that she clapped back though. I've seen mean Eddie fics before and sometimes reader is kinda meek and just takes it (no shade at all, I would 200% be like this in real life) but roadkill does not. The line 'you had no intention of entertaining a conversation with someone who never had your best interest in mind' hit hard. People need to bear this in mind more often (definitely not me 👀) it's inspiring. but he really does try and that part where they're admitting they like eachother but it's all wrong because it's too late. This was 'stick a fork in my heart and just pluck it out beat it to death' angst. Just amazing writing. It's like they're breaking up and they weren't even together.

The self fulfilling prophecy situation Eddie's created for himself was hard. He's convinced he doesn't deserve love and fucks up every good thing in his life, and he makes it so. Isn't mature enough at the time so see it doesn't have to be that way, that he could make better choices. And so the kitchen scene at the end proves it. Poor roadkill. Proves that then was not the right time for them. He needed to get to the present day point to realise that he can make better choices, and he does 🖤

And now they're trapped together! And a totally different kind of trapped than just working together. Forced proximity within forced proximity. Very clever, see what you did there! I love that he's such a rock for her in her distress. And his thoughts on if she were his, how she never would be, how he's somehow fallen even harder. Stop iiiit you're killing me 😭 although this undoubtedly confirms he's got zero going on emotionally with Steve, and he even tells her that! Fist bumping the air at that! Their whole conversion after this was amazing. He's being so honest and she's clinging onto this shitty version of him she's gotten comfortable with because she's stubborn. and seems very good at holding a grudge and I relate to this so much. You have no idea. 'Don't mess me up with your niceness when I'm not used to it, I don't like change' kinda deal. The dialogue was so good here, the direction it goes. She's laying it out how awful it was and telling him how it's affected her dating in particular all this time and his reaction is perfect, it's a great take on misogyny and how that situation would have been terrifying and he understands that now. They were barking. Gross. But they end the conversation on good terms! Not forgiveness, but a ceasefire maybe? I can just see them attempting a friendship and it getting harder for him to hide how gone he is on her 🖤

p.s. them picturing touching eachothers noses the exact same way! I'm scrrreaming 😍 they're gonna be so in love and I can't wait.

Why you were ever scared to post this absolute masterpiece of a character study I'll never know. I loved it. But I guess you can tell that by now 🫣

🖤🖤

ILY IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY TO GET YOUR ASKS AFTER EVERY CHAPTER 😭

ugh yes that is such a fitting setting like just really setting the mood right there

IM SO HAPPY YOU LOVED THE SUGAR ANALOGY THAT WAS LIKE MY FAVORITE ugh I think that may be my favorite paragraph too 🥹

Yeah I found it really important for her not to hold back or excuse any of his behavior (even tho I’m totally the opposite idk like I’m so shy I would be like ok) UGH YES it feels like a huge breakup but there was never a relationship to begin with so in a way it’s more achey :(

I LOVE forced proximity, ik it’s been done so often but that’s because it’s so good like it just makes you yearn for them so to then double it is like YES NOW YOU HAVE TO GET YOUR DEMONS OUT WITH EACH OTHER HAHA

I’m so glad the take on misogyny landed well

you have no idea how excited I am for them to stop being idiots and just kiss BUT WE ARENT THERE YET

I WAS SO PROUD OF THE NOSE TOUCHING PARALLEL like it’s so simple but it makes you feel their yearning even if they don’t quite realize it yet SO IM GLAD YOU LIKED THAT PART 🥹

thank you thank you thank you I cannot thank you enough for your support on this fic I adore all of your feedback 😭🥹💜💜💜💜

[sparatus]

6 (dealer's choice), 7 and 37!

fic writer asks

6. What’s one fact about the universe of [insert fic] that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

in exdiff, it's implied here and there, but never outright stated: cnclr sparatus is a follower of a very old faith from his homeland of tiirtias that was adapted to fit the conquering cipritinians' terminology so it could survive imperialism. the gods are called spirits now and they let people believe it's just old tales, but tiirti polytheism is very much still alive, and ierian carried it to the citadel with him. in his specific case, while the statue in his office shepard fixates on is of sun-carrier, the dazduus god of the sun and the daytime/summer, his patrons are actually bright eyes, god of curiosity and strategy, and clever song, the goddess of the hunt and guardian of the dead.

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?

gonna veer off from what everyone's probably expecting here – yes im proud of tiirtias and the great war and the council but i talk about them a lot, im REALLY chuffed with everything ive done about batarians. not just the resistance, but the hegemony itself and the perfect storm it's boiling into. bioware calls it a shadow of its former glory and i've run with that as far as i can; the hegemony is a terrible place full of terrible people, but it's also in horrific decay and cannibalizing itself to survive. the resistance isn't succeeding because good vs evil or whatever, it's succeeding because the situation is finally dire enough to make conditions right so it can succeed.

37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?

let's go with absolution, because i will never stop being feral about it. it's kind of a little character study on garrus and his tattoos, sliding into rarepair garrus/citadel dlc turian lady at the end – how he feels about his tattoos when he's younger, and how that changes as he gets older and everything goes wrong, until after omega when they're another reminder of how much he's failed, and then his adoration of tasora and how she doesn't care about the reputation he's trying to live up to and it feels freeing.

like, i'll be straight up, i don't think me3 garrus's characterization and attitude, especially towards archangel, makes sense. he was given to a different writer for me3 and you can tell. i am biting patrick weekes with my mind. why is he cocky and bragging about archangel, it was a deeply traumatic experience that kicked him down a deep dark hole, 6 months isn't that long to be okay with it to the point of casually bragging. all of his friends are dead because of him, patrick. so i love absolution because im just exploring what's going on in his head, how even though he tries to play cool he's still deeply unsettled and just trying to convince himself there's no ghosts in the mirror.

the religious imagery is a plus too, im ex-catholic and gleefully appropriating the imagery because it's sexy and also fitting for garrus. no turians don't have angels in their mythology and it's annoying but gods and altars and forgiveness of sins are still a thing i can scatter about like rice at a wedding

[snickerdoodlles]

25, 42, and 75 for the writer asks? :)

:D! ❤❤

25. What’s your favorite part of the writing process (worldbuilding, brainstorming/outlining, writing, editing, etc)?

crying in friend DMs where the story exists without me having to write it 😂

real answer tho, it's kinda hard for me to distinguish the different stages? all of them are very intermingled-- research or worldbuilding only happens via questions for me, which will happen when i watch a show, talk to friends, hit a bump or hole in the story, etc (...aka, i'm always doing these lol, i'm never not making worlds in my head or trying to learn more about the one i live in). usually when i write, i often start in a notebook or notes app, then either type or retype it into google docs, so a lot of my digital files are already the second draft.

if i absolutely had to pin one favorite part of the writing process, it's probably that second draft stage of the story-- the really bad mess of words is already out of me for me to shape/trim/edit/whatever into a proper story, and that's when it really comes alive for me ❤

42. What’s your favorite title that you’ve come up with?

none of them, im still traumatized from having to come up with them in the first place

i'm really struggling to pick, so i'm just gonna cheat lol. i really like when a series has a really good theme around the title names. it's what really ties stuff together for me. like, i know the titles i have for idiots & idioms series are all a little ridiculous and it kinda happened on a whim, but i like how each title ties into its story and idiom based titles just fits really well to me for a slice-of-life series. and for similar reasons, i'm still pleased as punch over how well Hair-Trigger fits into the title theme for tortoise's checkmate series but also spins off Trigger Creep specifically.

also! big fan of titles that are short with multiple meanings/implications that fit with the story in those ways-- described that badly, but titles like Pitch It (camping, pitching ideas, pitching plans) or Sucker (sucker of the joke, hickies). they are always clever to me and i like feeling clever XD

75. Is there a particular fic that readers gravitated towards that you didn’t expect?

hmm!!!! on a level, all of them, i never know what's gonna hit for others. but probably Only Real is Real was the most surprising. it was just a brainworm i couldn't get out of my head and i'd only written the first chapter of it because i didn't think anyone else was going to read it much less want more jhngjghjg.

.

fic writing asks for more rambles :D

[chaninfused]

I . literally don’t know where to start oh my god.

before I start rambling under the cut: IF YOURE READING THIS GO AND READ EVENING STAR I BESEECH THEE 🗣

ok OK you know how excited I’ve been for a new installment of es and let me tell you- IT DID NOT DISAPPOINT !! like when I woke up yesterday and saw the post about posting part two I SHRIEKED (silently) I will forever lose my mind over this series there’s nothing you can do about it 😌

anyway time for real feedback let me just say. Kat. I am OBSESSED with your writing like you don’t understand. I am obsessed. And this fic reminded me of that cus omg !! YOUR STYLE NEVER MISSES 🗣 from the very start like the way you described mc waking up. the disorientation the confusion the panic it’s just so scrumptious 😙👌🏻 I was truly so engrossed in reading and that was evident in my STRESS omg I wanted to physically reach in and grab those two and just SPRINT out of there 💆🏻‍♀️ it was truly getting serious.

The suspense !! mc running through the forest and then reuniting w chan !! it was all just written so beautifully <3 and oh my goodness that part where chan finds mc in her room ✋🏻 I was stressed as HELL but im glad it all went well in the end sdhjksld I said this in my feedback for pt 1 and I must say this again—reading this felt like watching a movie. Perhaps the bg music played into it but I know that it was all thanks to the way you went about writing those scenes. You paid so much attention to detail and it shows cus every sentence was crafted so beautifully. There’s a certain flow ?? dynamic ?? to your words that just pulls the reader’s mind through the scene it’s like seeing something through a camera. I’m trying to say that your camerawork is excellent ig 👁 LMFAO SDHJFKSLDFS

There was this line, “stories of heroes could be immortalised by ink and tongue, but things like safety were only temporary” that I just really really liked. Nothing particular I just think it’s nice so i’m drawing attention to it 😌

Speaking of lines I also liked this part “No; Chan wouldn’t just be pointing fingers - he’d be pointing a sword at whoever’s name you let slip” cus it’s 1) funny 2) clever 3) sums up chan’s character pretty nicely GHFSDJKLSD

I must say minho’s first line is the most iconic tho I IMMEDIATELY knew he was gonna be my favorite character and I know I’ll suffer because of it 😔✋🏻 but that’s okay everything for mister snarky mage

Pardon the incoming minho rant btw I JUST REALLY LIKE HIS CHARACTER DGHFJKSD 😭 him helping mc from a distance and then his introduction—just immediately threatening the One Guy With A Sword. Absolutely a moment for the history books I must say. Also his backstory ?? whatever history he has with mc ?? I am utterly and absolutely shaking with curiosity I need to know 1) what happened 2) WHO LEFT HIM SO HURT 🔪

I may have been all heart eyes over knight chan but it seems that my agenda has changed 😔 as it often does when minho appears.

ALSO WTSFDFGSDHGSDJ I NEARLY FORGOR

HYUNJIN ????????????????????????????????????????????????/ HYUNJIN I KNEW IT TJHKDFSHDJFKSLD;KDSJGHSJDK he was suspicious from the very start smh I can’t defend you for this one bestie 😔 I say this fully knowing I’ll be over here kicking my legs if he shows up again it’s just the hyunjin stan in me I cannot stop her she’s embarrassing ✋🏻

Oh also I said something that I want to elaborate on/clarify further—that the way you described minho shows the familiarity shared between him and mc ☝🏻 this could just be the overthinker in me but like you focused on how his features had changed and matured rather than introducing them (if that makes sense 💀) so like, as readers, we got a general description of him, but then this focus nicely depicted the relationship he and mc have. They haven’t seen each other in years but still he’s familiar yk familiar enough that mc would notice the growth in him after so long- IDK IF ANY OF THIS MAKES SENSE BUT I JUST WANTED TO EXPLAIN CUS !!!! YOUR WRITING WAS WONDERFUL OKAY 😤

Anyway idk what else to say cus my brain is just a big ol’ keyboard smash atm 😔 im so excited for what comes next (MORE MAGE MINHO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and now I honestly feel inspired to go revisit my wips and finish writing so sdfhgjsdf thank you :P

This was overall an amazing wonderful exciting installment of the series thank you for blessing us, kat 🤲🏻🤍

☾⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: evening star ; two *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

⋆*･ﾟ story preview. ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:

pairing(s): knight!chan x princess!reader, mage!minho x princess!reader featuring: prince!hyunjin and others. story summary: you were soon to be married to a well liked and nobel prince from one of the wealthiest kingdoms. however, when the engagement ball takes a turn for the worst, you’re to try and reclaim your kingdom with the help of your knight and best friend chan, as well as the mage who you have a secret history with.

⋆*･ﾟ part two ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:

wordcount: 13.9k chapter warnings: blades, mild violence, some injuries note that these warnings are specific to this chapter. if you read something you think should be tagged, please send me a message/ask. a/n: hihi! sorry for the long wait but she's here!! i did have to repost this for reasons which i won't get into, but anyhow. happy reading! taglist: @kpop--etc / @freckled-felixlee / @foivetimesacharm / @tremendousminyoongi / @wearethethunderousones / @chrisishungry100397 / @freckledquokka / @starrylino / @soulssung / @scarsnfevers / @sahazzy / @djeniryuu // unable to tag some :(( --- m.list | one | two | tbc...

It's cold.

That's all you can seem to think about as you slowly come to, the heaviness in your head tempting you to keep your eyes shut. Your ears are ringing dully, and your limbs feel heavy, the way they had years ago when you had first tried to swing Chan’s sword.

The memory blurs in your brain as you try to push yourself up. Your shoulder is killing you - you must have fallen asleep with your arm at a strange angle, but for how long? How long had you been on the staircase for your shoulder to hurt like this? There was nothing to indicate the passage of time that had passed, though the moon was viewable through a small cutout in the staircase. It shown down through the gap, cold moonlight casting an eerie blue glow over you

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Repeat.

As the ringing in your ears start to die down, an unsettling feeling overcomes you. It was quiet. Too quiet. There were no footsteps, no distant chatter or sounds of the quartet playing. There didn’t even seem to be any nightlife - the sounds of crickets and owls that you were positive almost always accompanied the night were no where to be heard. Had it always been this quiet?

As if the world was desperate to prove you wrong, the sound of clattering footsteps makes its way to your ears from below. There was the familiar footfall of the palace servants - more rushed and skitterish than normal, but the sound of their shoes on stone was one you had grown up with.

And then there’s the heavy sound of boots, creating a dull thud with every step.

“To the ballroom! Now!”

It was an unfamiliar, gravelly voice - none of the guards you knew sounded like that. None of them sounded that demanding. As the steps come nearer, you can make out panicked whispers and muffled crying.

Pushing yourself up, forcing your weak legs to hold you up, you scramble up the staircase, away from the noise. With each forced movement, whatever power had fatigued you seems to wash away.

Some part of you - the part that had grown up on adventure stories and fairy tails of princes saving princesses - wanted to run down and help whoever was crying. But you knew that wasn’t the smartest of ideas - and the castle staff, knowing their kind hearts, would tearfully scold you for putting yourself in danger for them.

The sound of your shoes on the stone stairs reverberates in your ear. Kicking them off, you continue barefooted up the staircase.

It was a good idea - not only were your steps quieter, but the cold floor beneath you was grounding. It shocked the drowsiness out of your system, heightened your senses.

And thank god for that, fpr had you continued on with your shoes, you may not have noticed the voices from the second floor until it was too late.

“Find her! She can’t have disappeared into thin air!”

Were they talking about you? So whatever had happened had been to target you?

The thought makes your blood run cold, a sudden wave of dizziness hitting you. To your knowledge, you had never been made the sole target for anything, and all the drills and procedures that you had been taught- they all revolved around someone escorting you away, someone protecting you.

But right now? You were alone, unsure who the enemy was and had no way to contact the only person you trusted. You didn’t even know where he was.

Your mind jumps to your mother - where was she? Was she alright? The last time you had seen her, she’d been in the ballroom. There had been plenty of guards in the ballroom. Hopefully, she was alright.

“Have you checked her room?” A new voice - familiar, but not enough that you can put a face to it in your panic.

“Yes, sir. She isn’t there.”

You wait, holding your breath and pushing yourself flat against the curved wall of the staircase as you wait for the men to move away - anywhere but down the staircase. It seemed an eternity before the one in charge replies.

“Fine. Go find some men and comb through the forest. If she somehow escaped, she can’t have gone far. Not in heels and a ball gown.”

“Yes, sir!”

Hearing their footsteps fade, you take the last few steps up to the top. To leave the temporary sanctuary offered by the darkness of the staircase seems like leaving the only safe haven you know, but you also know that almost nothing was ever permanent - stories of heroes could be immortalised by ink and tongue, but things like safety were only temporary.

Your bare feet pad across the cold floor, the lack of echo each time your feet hit the ground alien to you.

It was tiring and absolutely terrifying to look over your shoulder every few steps - what if, in that split second, someone appears in front of you? Or what if you look back, and someone is there? You weren't sure who the men were, who they worked for (if anyone at all), nor were you sure what they wanted.

Despite there having been men above and below the staircase, you manage to make your way down the hall without being spotted. When the door to your bedroom finally comes into view, the adrenaline increases in your veins - this was it, this was the last sprint. As soon as you're in, you can lock the door and then figure out your next move.

Taking a deep breath, you set off on a run to the door, feet falling hard against the ground.

Just as you reach the door, the sound of footsteps from down the hall reach you. You start fumbling the door handle, hands suddenly uncooperative and breath erratic and heart beating in your ears and the footsteps are speeding up, getting closer, closer, closer-

The door opens, and you barely manage to push it shut behind you as you stumble in. Spinning around, you throw yourself back against it, fingers struggling to lock the door based off of muscle memory.

You can hear the lock slide home, the click calming your nerves ever so slightly.

Finally, you were safe once again, your room providing temporary solace. And familiar, it could have been, had your room not look like it'd been torn apart.

The blankets on your bed had been pulled off, and the wardrobe doors thrown open. Closet doors had also been opened, and you could see the gaps in your clothes where someone had pushed them apart. And at the center of your room - the flowers you had been gifted earlier in the day, spilling over the edge of the table, the vase knocked over.

Whoever had come looking for you had really looked through everything, you thought, face warming despite all. But it should be the last thing on your mind, you chide yourself. There were more important matters at stake - like your life, and whatever on earth was going on.

Running to your open wardrobe, you rummage through the mess that had been left behind for something to change into, grabbing at the darkest thing you could find - a dark, velvet dress. You quickly undress, letting the stained tulle gown fall and bunch around your feet. Stepping out and kicking it aside ungracefully, you struggle to pull the velvet dress on while simultaneously digging around for something that wasn’t heels - it takes longer than you had thought to locate some riding boots. You crouch down, pulling at the laces.

How long would it be before someone was going to return to check your room? If you were still here, what would happen? Could you fight them off by yourself? ...No, probably not. You might be able to fling a few measly knives, but you had never been in combat of nay kind. If anyone returned, if anyone found you, you’d be helpless.

And then what? Would they take you to the ballroom, where it seemed they were gathering everyone, or would they lock you in the dungeon? Or would they ki-

Like a deer who had heard a twig snap, your body freezes when you hear your door rattle. Every joint in your body feels like it’s been locked in place, and your breath unable to leave your lungs. Had you overthought this all and imagined up the door rattling? Or was someone really outside, trying to get in?

It rattles again, a catalyst for movement as you crawl to your bed - an unsightly scene for a royal, but you couldn’t care less - and reach under the bedskirts. Your hand grasps at nothing until finally your fingers wrap around the string of the drawstring bag you had handed Chan earlier that morning. Pulling it out, you could hear the metal daggers sliding against one another, the harshness of the sound amplified against the stone even through the fabric of the bag.

Click.

Your breath is caught in your throat, trying so hard to force its way out that you feel like you’re about to puke. The drawstring bag seems to be stitched shut, your fingers prying helplessly at the string and the material.

Over your raging heart, you can hear the door shut softly.

Someone was in your room.

Hands shaking and sweating, you finally manage to tug the bag open, and you pull it wide, not caring for what noise it made - if someone was in your room, they were bound to find you anyways - and you reach inside, hands sliding against cold metal that sends shocks up your your arm.

Like some twisted nightmare, all you can see is a pair of black boots before you feel yourself being pushed over onto your back, the stranger putting his weight onto you and pinning your hands above your head with one hand, the other covering your mouth.

Eyes squeezed shut, you thrash around, kicking and twisting, yells muffled despite all your effort. The grip around your wrist was secure, preventing you from even twisting your hand around and nicking the person’s hand with the small dagger you had tried to hard to retrieve.

“Shut- Shut up, y/n, it’s me-”

Your body stills at the all too familiar voice. Eyes snapping open, You find Chan leaning over you, face flushed and eyes wide. He was panting, as if overpowering you had taken all the strength from him.

He releases your wrists, bringing a finger to his lips. Be quiet.

When you nod in response, he lifts his other hand from your mouth.

Without another thought in mind, you reach up and pull him down on top of you, hugging him tight despite your shaking limbs and burying your face into his shoulder. He smelled of the forest at night, the smell of earth and wood mixing with sweat and Chan.

“Chan, I thought you were someone else-”

Your breath rushes out, words barely squeezing past the sob in your throat.

Seeing Chan’s face made you want to cry; you wanted to be held, to be cradled in his arms and have him whisper words of comfort in your ear, for him to stroke your hair and tell you hey, everything’s alright, this is all just a bad nightmare and you’ll wake up soon.

He does stroke your hair - you feel his hand come under you, holding your head to the crook of his neck. He pats your head, hand running over your hair rhythmically until the adrenaline in your veins dissipates.

The smell of forest and night and Chan, the feeling of fabric between your nails and your palm, the sensation of being held by someone safe - it grounded you, each rattling breath shaking out the fear from your mind.

Slowly, your hands open and release his shirt. Even with your arms loose around his torso, Chan continues to hold you, and then you feel it, adrenaline leaving the room for your senses to recover.

His arms around you are strong - you’ve always known that he was strong - but they’re tense, as if he was restraining himself from holding you any tighter than he already was. You can hear his breaths, forcibly steady and controlled, and his hands are shaking against your hair as he calms you down, leaving an onlooker to wonder who it really was that needed the comfort.

He gulps, and you think he’s about to say something, but he pulls back. Still on top of you, he looks down, his bangs hanging and brushing against your forehead. He seems to be scanning your eyes, your face, for something that you couldn’t quite figure out. Injuries, perhaps? Or was he trying to see if you were still scared?

With each passing second, you can see his eyes soften. Simply looking at you, it seems, was enough to ground Chan.

“Did- Did you lock the door?” you break the silence after a while, and Chan blinks rapidly.

As if suddenly remembering that he was straddling your hips and leaning over you, he throws himself to the side, rolling into a kneeling position. He nods minutely, glancing across the room to the door. Though it stands silently, though you can't help noticing the feeling of impending doom it seems to radiate.

You push yourself up from the floor, retrieving the dagger you had discarded upon recognising Chan. The metal is unnervingly cold against the palm of your hand, and you quickly drop it back into the bag.

"What happened?"

Chan is across the room, peering out one of the two windows in your room. His eyes flick to you, and quickly back out the window when he catches you staring at him.

You shake your head, still trying to piece it all together yourself. "I don't- I don't know. I was going back to my room-"

"Why?"

"To change my dress - There was an accident-"

"Accident?"

"Yes, I knocked into someone- No, they knocked into me- Oh, I can't remember, but my dress got stained, so I was told to go back to my room and wait for a new dress. I was- I was on my way to my room, and then everything started getting all... weird, and it was like the castle was moving - I couldn’t - I couldn’t walk fast enough, and I was scared, and the torches kept moving and-" It was all mixed up in your brain. You could picture it all happening, could see yourself talking to the maid, could see the hallway, the fire and dancing shadows on the wall-

"Breathe, your highness. You're safe right now. I'm here." Chan had, at some point, made his way over to you. He had his hands on your shoulder, his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. "Now, have you been in your room all this time?"

“I-” shuddering breath in, shuddering breath out. “No. I only made it to the stairs before I... before I fell asleep.”

Once you had calmed down, Chan starts the questioning. What do you remember seeing? How long were you asleep? What did you hear? You had expected this to happen, and tried to recall all the details.

The story, though short, slowly unravels, and Chan shares his side too. He had been making his rounds, ensuring everyone was stationed where they were supposed to be when he noticed the change in the atmosphere - everything had gone quiet. He’d found one of his men on the ground - unwounded, but asleep, and Chan couldn’t wake him up. He would have kept trying, but then he saw the group of men approaching the castle.

“There were too many for me to try and beat. And I didn’t know how many more there were, and it was just- there were too many risks.” Chan had regret painted all over his face. You knew how much it must have hurt him to walk past his men, all on the ground, and be able to do nothing to help them. “But they said it had worked. And I don’t know what it is, but from the looks of it...”

“Magic.”

The word hangs in the air, a dark cloud that could bring anything from a light shower to a thunderous storm. No one really knew what the nature of magic was - after so many years of separation between the magical and non-magical, there was little interest in educating the non-magic folk of what magic really was. Magic was wild, something you nor Chan could fully comprehend.

“What I don’t understand,” Chan starts, pacing around the room, “Is why you were the only one who woke up. I mean - I assume I was outside of the spell’s perimeter, but you, your highness... Everyone was asleep, when I made my way here. No matter how hard I tried to wake them, no one would open their eyes. They were all breathing, though.” A reassurance, for himself or for you, no one knows.

You had an idea about why you were awake. A voice, a memory, a boy from long ago. You were sure he was connected to this somehow, that he had somehow tried to protect you - he had told you to run, had he not? That had to have been his voice.

But you knew that mentioning him to Chan right now wouldn’t be the best of ideas. Chan - always protecting you, always ready to cut down anything that could be a risk to you - was already sure magic was the root of whatever trouble you were now in, and to tell him that the reason you woke up was most likely because of someone’s magic?

No; Chan wouldn’t just be pointing fingers - he’d be pointing a sword at whoever’s name you let slip.

So instead, you shake your head. “But what now? We can’t stay here and wait the spell out,” you reason. “Besides, I heard the men moving everyone to the ballroom. We- We can’t even stay here.”

The realisation settles in your mind, a cold blanket that seemed to freeze you in place.

You had… never spent a night outside of the castle before. Chan had, of course, but he had been out with people who were able to protect themselves, able to take care of themselves.

But what were you, if not a princess who had grown up sheltered by the castle? And sure, you theoretically knew your way around a blade, but you could barely do more than hit within two meters of your target.

"...And I know we don't have time, but we'll figure this out, okay?"

You would be nothing more than a burden on Chan; extra baggage that he had to carry and take care of, whether he wanted to or not.

"I won't let anything bad happen to you or our kingdom. I promise."

Sometimes, you simply wished for a life free of the responsibilities you and Chan had.

"Your highness?"

It was hard to shake the thoughts from your head, though you tried - too much was at stake right now for you to get lost in your own shortcomings.

"Y/n," comes Chan's voice, closer and softer than it had been a moment ago, drawing you away from all the possibilities of the past, present and future. "I know this is overwhelming, but I need you here with me, okay?"

He raises a hand, palm cupping your cheek and thumb swiping under your eye - had you been crying? You hadn't even realised.

"I'm here," you tell him, and despite your voice betraying you, you really were present. Wiping away at your tears, you take a deep breath. "I'm here," you say again, more confidently this time.

"Good. Now,” Chan takes a breath that seems to rattle his body as much as you felt rattled. “Go grab that dagger from above your bed."

It takes a moment for your feet to move; once they do, it was like everything was being sped up.

You had to get up on the bed to reach the dagger. You go to step on your pillows, almost falling as they move under your weight, and kick them out of the way. They fall onto the floor with light thumps, and you reach up for the dagger.

“What about the prince?” You ask as you unhitch the blade from where it was mounted. The light catches on the star etched at the hilt, flashing as you move off the bed and back to Chan. “Him and his men aren’t familiar enough with the castle to-”

“With all due respect, my only responsibility right now is you,” Chan replies. He isn’t cold or dismissive, but his tone tells you he wasn’t going to compromise your safety for anyone else. “There are too many unknowns right now for us to try and find him.”

He’s standing by your window, peering out of it from the side. You sneak a glance out, curious as to what he was watching.

Nothing. He was watching nothing.

All was still outside your window, which overlooked the back of the castle. The forest was dimly lit by the moon, though you could see the shadow of clouds inching closer and closer. The only thing that seemed to move - even the trees seemed like they were still, unmoving against the wind that moved the clouds.

“Are we… Are we going?”

He nods silently, solemnly, before turning on his heels with what seems to you like newfound determination. Had he been thinking all this time? Trying to come up with a plan?

Well, you’d probably know had you not been so caught up in your thoughts before.

“Now listen, your highness.” Chan is busy rummaging through your bag of knives as he talks. “It’s just the two of us, so I should be able to fight should anyone come at us. But in the case that someone gets to you, you use the dagger, all right? And if you don’t have your dagger, use your body. Fists, elbows, knees. Connect with the throat, with the eyes. You might not be strong enough to faze an armoured person with a hit to the torso."

You nod, repeating the words in your head. Dagger, fists and elbows, throat and eyes.

“These will be too loud if we’re to carry them around, and we don’t have any harnesses on us.” He balls the bag up, sliding it and the daggers across the floor and back under your bed. He turns to you next, hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes with a fierceness that almost shakes you. “If we get separated, you run into the forest, okay? You aim for the forest, and get as far in as you can. I’ll find you.”

Brows furrowing, you shake your head. “You- You say that like I’d leave you behind.”

“You have to, if I get caught- If I’m fighting someone. If you have the chance to run, you run, okay?”

You continue to stare at him, at Chan, who had been by your side all your life, who was asking you to leave him behind if the situation called for it.

“Promise me, your highness. If I tell you to go, you go, okay?”

He’s looking at you with such seriousness, with so much will and determination and need for you to to promise. And, were you to look closer, look longer, you’d see the fear in his eyes.

What was it that he knew, that he had thought about that you hadn’t quite comprehended about the situation yet? Surely it wasn’t so bad that Chan would have to… sacrifice himself, right?

“Y/n, I need to know you’ll be safe if I-”

“I promise.” The words manage their way up and out your mouth, leaving a vile taste behind. It was both a truth, and a lie. I promise I’ll be safe. I won’t leave you behind.

—

The plan had seemed simple when Chan had talked you through it, and perhaps it was naive of you to take his words at face value. You definitely thought so now, as you almost run into Chan for the third time as he stops abruptly at a corner.

Ahead, you can hear the sounds of voices - not hushed, but far enough that you can't make out any of the words. They slowly grow louder, louder, footsteps drowing out the words, and then all the sounds fade out all together.

“Okay, let's go.”

After a moment of silence, Chan moves again. You follow closely behind, glancing back every few seconds to make sure that no one had walked around the corner.

You were near a staircase, you knew. Another small spiraling one, not unlike the one you had fallen asleep upon.

Chan stops before the entrance. He pokes his head in, cocks his head slightly to the side - you wait, heart beating in your ears until Chan gives the all clear.

The pair of you descend the stairs, the cold entrapped in the small, stone-walled space sending shivers down your spines. You spare but the smallest thought to curse yourself silently for forgetting to bring coats - but this wasn’t a planned outing, really. Who had the luxury of time to remember coats?

As yellow torchlight can be seen reflected on the walls of the staircase, Chan turns his head to speak to you in a hushed voice.

“Once we exit the staircase, we’ll head straight for the back door. Once outside, head straight for the forest. If we get separated, meet near the clearing where you practice-”

Chan disappears from your sight, thrown to the left with a grunt of pain.

“Chan!”

You quickly descend the last few steps, turning to find Chan on the floor, an arm over his head protectively. As you go to take a step towards him, mind gone in your panic to see if he’s alright, your feet leave the ground.

“Let- Let go of me!”

The person behind you has a hand around each wrist, pushing your arms against your chest as they lift you off your feet. You’re kicking and yelling, the dagger in your hand useless with what little range of motion you have.

As if you were but a pillow, the person - a man, you guessed, from the grunts in your ear and the thick, muscular arms around you, - carries you over closer to Chan.

“It wouldn’t do his highness any good to leave someone so devoted to the princess alive-”

You freeze as dread feels your veins, your mind, every part of your body, filling you in a way that seemed to offset your balance.

His highness? He couldn’t mean- no-

The man moves you to the side, jerking motion pulling a cry from you. He pulls his leg back, prepares to kick Chan. You shut your eyes tight as you can, turning your head away - to see Chan in pain right now, to see him be hurt, would crush your spirit.

“Don’t worry, some of your buddies will be joining you soon,” the man says, before bringing his leg forward and-

A sharp curse is yelled into your ear before you feel yourself fall, eyes staying shut until you feel the body behind - no, beneath you, make impact with the ground.

The man’s arms loosen around you just enough for you to pull an arm free. The dagger, held so tight in your hand that you feel like it’s hilt would be imprinted into your palm, swings behind you blindly. There’s a shout of pain before the tip skids along the stone ground.

Whatever damage you had done was enough of a surprise for the man to release you.

You roll off of him, being sure to keep the blade of the dagger away from you, and scramble to your feet. Eyes wide, you take in the scene before you.

Chan, still on the ground, was pulling the man towards him by the foot; had he stayed on the floor on purpose to pull the perpetrator down with him?

“Chan-”

“Go, y/n!

You stare in horror as the man, getting dragged slowly but surely towards Chan, starts to come back to his senses and recover from the initial shock of the fall. Chan, while not lacking in the muscle department, looked like he would be done for if he took another few hits.

And yet he wanted you to leave him.

It was his job, you knew, but still-

“I’ll be right behind you! Just go!” Chan yells, half frantic and half commanding, eyes jumping haphazardly between you and the slowly awakening man. “You promised!”

You had, and yet you had also promised yourself you wouldn’t abandon him. But what use were you if you stayed?

Chan wouldn’t be able to use his sword, not at that close a distance. You knew enough about battle to know that. So you do the only thing you can for him in that moment.

“Here!”

Before Chan could even look at you, you slide the dagger in your hand towards him, hilt first. It glides across the ground, metal against stone filling your ears, and as it passes the man, a brief image of him grabbing it and diving forward at Chan flashes in your mind.

But he doesn’t grab for it, and the dagger comes to a stop at Chan’s knees. He looks at it in shock, confusion, then back at you and nods.

Now, go, his eyes seem to say.

A strange calmness had settled in Chan’s face, as if he had come to some final decision, had accepted something.

A pit of newfound discomfort makes its home in your stomach, but you do, this time. You go slowly at first, one step back, two, and then you turn your back and run.

You can hear grunts and yells as you run away from Chan and the other man. You can hear him yelling to let anyone nearby know that the princess was getting away, but you don’t turn back to see if anyone’s following you. Part of you feared you would lose your footing if you did, the harsh sounds of your running steps a driver to keep you going, and the other feared the potential scene you had left behind.

It was awfully difficult to run in the velvet dress. Though no where near the heaviest dress you had worn, the way the skirt’s layers moved against your legs seemed to act like a barrier. You fought on, pulling it up to free your ankles of the resistance. The echoes of your steps fill your ears, heart beating against your chest, in your ears, as the wooden door you had come through this morning finally becomes visible. As if in response to your near success, you can hear the sounds of more men coming - the clunking of armour, of swords being unsheathed, of incoherent orders being yelled.

You push the door, the velvet of the dress catching on the old wooden door; though reinforced with iron bars, the door itself had stood sturdy for as long as you can remember, and though well maintained, time had brought forth a few chips. It stood strong, even now, and your face scrunches up in effort - had it always been this heavy? - until finally, finally it groans open.

Cold night air slips through the gap, drying your eyes and piercing your already pained lungs further. You step out, one foot, then the other, and the door slams shut behind you.

The vast silence that greets you is deafening.

Despite the breeze that had slipped through the door, the air was still. Lack of wind didn’t make you any less cold, and you feel a shiver run through your body as you scan the horizon.

The forest behind the castle seemed frozen in place, and had it not been for the eerie way the clouds floated above the trees, you’d have no trouble believing someone had stopped time in its place.

Draped in the blues and purples of night, the stone stairs that lead down the east side of the castle and to the stream that separated the castle grounds from the forest looked colder than ever. You had fallen on them once when you were younger, the cold biting into your palms when you had gone to brace yourself. To fall again now might mean more than just scratched up hands and knees.

You hands fist at your sides when you feel the unnerving thoughts fill your mind. Into the forest, Chan had said. As far in as you can go, and he’ll find you.

He’ll find you. He would always find you, unless-

You take a deep, bone-rattling breath in and let the pain of cold air in your nose ground you. Pulling your skirts up once more, you make your way down the stairs.

Steady but fast, you descend the stairs. Each step reverberates through your body, the sound of your own breathing in your ears.

You didn’t dare to concentrate on anything other than placing one foot before the other and not missing a step - a tumble would be detrimental to everything, would put you at risk, would make Chan’s sac- would mean that Chan had stayed behind to fight for nothing.

Your boots make contact with grass, the soft surface of the new ground unsettling to your legs. One step, two, a glance behind. The door stood dark and unmoving - had the men not seen you leave it, or were they occupied elsewhere?

It mattered not - you take a deep gulp, cold air filling your throat, your lungs, before you start running towards the stream. Just past there, and you would be at the forest. While you had yet to explore the entire forest, you knew most of it, and you were certain that at the very least, you knew it better than the men who were attacking the castle.

The men who were attacking the castle… His highness, the man had said.

You were in denial, you knew, but there was only one person that you were aware of that held that title.

Your throat seemed to close up at the thought - the prince had been nothing but kind to you and your servants, had done nothing but try to get to know your land better… and it all could have been an act.

Yet some part of you wanted to believe he was better than that - better than someone who acted kind and gentle, who spoke fondly of their men, their friends, just to sympathise and get on your good side. But he had said it himself, no? That with the lives of their people in their hands, there are things that royals need to sacrifice?

The maelstrom of thoughts is pushed from your head when your feet meet new ground once again. The stream is shallow and unmoving, and yet dragging your feet through the water seemed to require a great deal more energy than ever before. It’s cold, the width from one side to the other large enough that despite your boots, your feet seem numb by the time you reach the other side. Your skirt, though you had held it as high as you could manage, had been caught by the river in the crossing and now seemed to drag behind you as you trudge through the last stretch of land to the forest.

And just in time.

Shouts from the castle reach your ears as you step between the trees, and you turn to see silhouettes of men, flames from their torches lighting up the sides of their face. Too far away for you to make out if the three of them were your men or not, yet close enough that they could see you should they descend the stairs.

So you push aside the small slimmer of hope that these were Chan’s men and scurry into the forest.

It was dark, twigs and leaves on the ground catching on your dress as you make your way in, and yet you found an odd comfort in the shadows of the trees. If the people chasing you were in fact from another land - you refused to even think that they might be your people - then being in the forest that you had explored since you were young would, theoretically, put you at an advantage. You might not know the entire forest inside and out, but you knew it well enough that you were confident you would be able to evade the pursuers.

At first, you follow the path you normally take when you go off in the early mornings to practice your knife throwing. Down between the two trees, perfectly lined up with each other, past the boulder that Chan had once chased you around - Chan- no, don’t get distracted - and down the steady slope, the well-trekked path obvious for it lacked foliage and branches in the way.

It was obvious.

So without a second thought, you turn to your right and dash madly in between the trees, losing yourself in their shadows.

No one had really ever travelled off the path, especially not this close to the castle grounds. The ground was far more uneven than the path before, sticks catching on your skirt, hitting the leather of your riding boots - you could feel the small thumps. Even your sleeves, though not wide, caught on the lower branches as you tried to push them out of the way. There was little to light your path but whatever moonlight managed to slip past the trees, highlighting the odd patch of forest ground. Leaves and rocks, roots and fallen branches. You tried to avoid what you could, tried your best to keep your footing, but it wasn’t long before you tripped.

Hands met the ground and a jarring pain shoots up your left arm. You try to stop the cry of pain from escaping your lips, your mouth opening in pained silence as your left hand gives way and you fall onto your side.

The ground is rough through the velvet of the dress, rocks digging into your shoulder as you cradle your arm to your chest. You give yourself only a second, two, to collect yourself. Your wrist hurt, the initial sharp pain dulling down to a strong throb that made you feel like your veins were about to burst with each pulse.

You push yourself up, forcing your legs to carry you further across the forest.

It feels an age before you finally come to a stop, hand against a tree to support yourself as laboured breathing hurts your chest, your head almost woozy from the adrenaline, the exhaustion, the panic and the confusion and the fact that you just didn’t know what was going on and if Chan was even-

Snap.

You force yourself to hold you breath mid-inhale, force your muscles to freeze and your mind to quiet down and your ears to listen.

Snap. Snap.

it wasn’t coming from directly behind you. You gulp, turning your head to your right, squinting against the darkness in some hope it would make your vision clearer.

There’s someone there, and even silhouetted from a distance, you can tell they’re in bad shape - one hand held a sword, the other their side, and with each step forward, a limp becomes more noticeable.

They raise their sword hand in greeting and it takes you a second to process.

Chan*.***

You trip in your haste to get to him, barely managing to regain your footing before your next step propels you forward. You’re stumbling across the ground and you feel the twigs get caught in your skirt, feel your feet kick them out of the way, but you don’t bother to hold your skirt up. The pain in your arm was holding you back from doing so, yes, but the sheer fact that Chan was alright and was here and that you’d found each other - that fact was enough for you to push forward.

You seem to reach him before he does you, your eyes drawing instantly to his left side - a hand was holding a piece of fabric to his side, and as your eyes scan him, you notice he had only one sleeve; he’d torn one off, using it as temporary gauze to stop what you can only imagine to be bleeding. The sword was held loosely in one hand, and to his thigh, your dagger was strapped.

“You’re a mess,” you whisper into the night, heart aching. Your fingers reach out, first for the wound at his side, then to cup his face, but they move ever so minutely that when you stop yourself - you’re a princess, damn it, and Chan was your knight; such acts weren’t befitting of your positions at all - Chan doesn’t even realise you had moved at all.

He chuckles, despite his appearance. Chan drops his sword and lifts his hand to your head, pulling something from your hear and flicking it away. “You’re one to talk.”

You pout, suddenly self conscious and try to clean off whatever dirt had clung to your dress. “Well, you could hardly expect me to look presentable, given the situation.”

“Ah.” Chan grimaces, as if suddenly reminded of the present. “The situation. We- We should get going, deeper into the forest and find somewhere to hide for the mean time.”

“Will you be okay? How bad is the wound?”

He nods, face set in a smile. “It’s nothing life threatening - just a graze,” he comments. “Just a bit of blood-”

He’s cut off as you reach for the dagger strapped to his leg.

“What are you-”

Reaching for the hem of your skirt, you drag the blade across the fabric. It rips with a satisfying sound. Dropping the dagger onto the forest floor, you continue to tear the fabric from the bottom of your dress. Your face burns - standing in front of Chan with your skirt pulled almost to your waist to tear the fabric… you somehow still had the mind to feel self-conscious.

“You can’t just hold that the entire time,” you explain with a final tug to the skirt. It falls back around your legs, higher than before. With a gulp and furiously burning ears, you wrap your arms around Chan’s torso, pulling the fabric around his waist twice before securing it with a knot. “There. Now your hands are free.”

Standing back, you smile at your work.

“Okay, let’s go,” you say and turn.

Though you were ready to move, Chan doesn’t budge. Your muscles relax in confusion, head cocking in question.

His eyes are on you. They’re dark, shadowed by his features, silhouetted by however much moonlight manages to trespass the trees, but you can feel his gaze.

“You’re not…” He gulps, taking in a shuddering breath that causes him to wince, and slowly exhales. “You’re not injured, are you?”

Eyes softening, you feel the urge to cup his cheek again. You shake your head gently. The pain in your arm was easing - it was nothing worth him fretting over.

But how could he, bleeding as he was, still be concerned for your wellbeing?

“I’m fine.” A gentle smile tugs at your lips, and you eye the makeshift bandage around his torso. “Start worrying about yourself more.”

Chan's concern falters and he scoffs. “It's my job to worry about you, your highness.”

He was right, you knew. It was his job, had been his job for as long as you could remember.

“We should get moving, though.” Chan breaks the silence that had fallen between the two of you. “If I were in their shoes, it won’t be along until I either loop back around or send out a full search party to cover the entire forest.”

“So what do we do?”

Your question is met with silence. Chan’s eyes had fixated on a spot on the ground, though you knew he wasn’t really looking at the ground. He had zoned out, the way he does when he gets lost in his thoughts.

Giving him his moment to think, you collect the dagger from the ground. It’s clean, void of any violence it may have taken part in. The blade shone in the night, edges sharp and though cold, the weight of it in your hand brings you an odd sense of comfort.

It reminded you of a time in your childhood when you’d carried an identical blade through these woods.

“I think I know where we can go.” It’s a rush of words as the idea fills your mind, as your brain tries to figure out the kinks in your underdeveloped plan. “He would help us. I know he would.”

An incredulous look passes Chan’s face, so theatrical and comedic that you almost burst out laughing despite the situation.

“’He’? Who is ‘he’?” Chan, so perplexed by the fact that you were acquainted with a boy outside the castle, is frozen in place. “Do I know this person? Why- How do you-” He clears his throat, composes himself, and tries to regain neutrality on his face. “I apologise, princess, but I… have been with you for years, have barely left your side when outside the castle walls… so please forgive my confusion at the moment.”

Though you’d not seen him since that night long ago, you knew he was here. Knew he had stayed in your kingdom, and knew he resided on the outskirts of the town. Any and all businesses who dealt in or with magic were to send official notice to the castle regarding the purpose of their business. Along with a variety of other contracts, it was a method through which the use of magic could be indirectly monitored. The practice had been picked up by all the kingdoms, and any one found to profit off of their magic outside of what they had agreed to would be punished.

You had spied Minho’s name, once, in one of the books that kept such details. An address had been scrawled next to it, and though you had read it out of interest, you had never expected to remember it, especially in a situation like this.

But a mage, you realise, would be the last person Chan would turn to. And how were you to explain how you knew him? How were you to explain why he would help you, without having Chan go off at you about how stupid your decisions had been?

So instead, you take in a slow, deep breath. Tilting your head back to look up at the moon concealed by trees, you exhale. It shone bright, a beautiful sight in the treacherous night.

“Do you trust me, Chan?”

He doesn’t miss a beat, voice filled with absolute certainty as he crosses an arm over his chest and lowers his head into a bow.

“With my life, my princess.”

You and Chan were fortunate enough to not run into anyone as you made your way around the castle grounds. The adrenaline pushes you, keeps your legs working and your ears on high alert. Many times, he had pushed you against a tree, his arm or even his body pressed against yours at the faintest possibility of running into anyone.

You held your breath in these moments. The proximity at which he held you left little space for you to even inhale as deeply as you needed to calm your breathing, and besides - the sound would be too loud to hear anything over it.

When the trees finally start thinning, your legs are heavy and your lungs feel something akin to having had inhaled a thousand thorns.

The forest ended at the top of the hill. To your right, the gates to the castle, the long road up hidden by the night. Before you, the town lay spread out. The houses clustered, divided at intervals to form the many streets. Lit windows were few, and yet you thought that you could almost, if you tried hard enough, hear the hearty laugh of men at pubs.

“Your highness, are you alright? On the edge of the forest may not be the wisest of places for us to rest, perhaps we should-”

Shaking your head, you gather your skirts once more and lift your head. “No, no rest. I was simply sentimental, for a moment. I apologise - such feelings will do us no good right now.”

An expression of confliction crosses Chan’s face, so brief that when you look at him, he looked impassive.

“So, where does this… this person live? Where are we headed?”

The address tumbles from your lips, pulling from Chan a strained look.

“That’s on the other side of the town-”

“But we’ve few, if any other choices,” you reason. “We can’t possibly return to the castle nor can we try and make it to the next town over with nothing on us. We don’t even have money, Chan.”

“Then the people of the town-”

“Will insist on helping us, I know, but I will not take advantage of their kindness when such a thing could put them in danger.” The words come out with much more force than you had intended, the subtle escalation of your conversation with Chan having taken the better of you.

But Chan is seemingly unaffected by it. He regards you with a thoughtful gaze, eyes dancing with both amusement and respect. “Very well. Across town we shall go, your highness.”

Tonight was a night of many firsts for you. The first time you had ever had to flee your home, the first time your life had ever been in danger, the first time you had ever genuinely feared losing Chan.

The feeling had been so alien to you, so impossible to ever fathom, so unnecessary to even had imagined in the past, that as you walked through the sleeping streets of the town you had grown to love so much, you had to resist holding onto Chan like you had when you were a child. It would be silly now, to hold his hand as you had in the past whilst sneaking around the castle. This wasn’t a game anymore; the consequences of being found by the wrong people wasn’t forced study in the library. It was worse, much worse.

So why not hold his hand? Keep him close, know he’s safe - not that you would be able to do much of the protecting, you knew.

But as it had been in the past - when one was in trouble, so too would be the other.

Your fingers flex at your side now, itching to reach out and hold onto Chan as he peers around the corner to ensure no one was there.

He tenses, the same time the sound of a girl's laughter reaches your ear. Footsteps are fast to fade, alongside the quiet murmurs of a man, loud in the soundless night. Lovers, perhaps, heading home together as the night grows old.

A quick gesture of the hands from Chan indicates that it was safe to move. The two of you dart out of the small alley you had been hiding in and enter the town square.

Another first to add to the list; never had you seen the town square bathed in the silver light of the moon, street lamps flickering orange and crossing at the center of the square. Perhaps it was your circumstances, but the emptiness of the town square leaves an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

Chan leads you around the edge, behind empty stalls and shrubbery. Your footsteps echo off the walls of the buildings, playing back into your ears as if to emphasise the emptiness of the town.

“Half way there,” Chan mumbles as he enters a dark alley.

Had that alley always been there? Had any of the roads you’d taken always been there? You knew, realistically speaking, they had been - and yet you could not recall ever having seen them before. Perhaps the street that the bakery had been on, you’d seen before - but the alley that smelt of old blood and meat, the alley that had crates of empty glass bottles stacked by the door. How did Chan know of these roads, of these many paths? Had he memorised the map of the town, the many streets that had never existed to you before now?

It was his job, you supposed, to know these things. And yet the sheer ability to know his way across the town amazed you. Had he ever walked these roads before, or was he simply relying on his mind’s eye, on the chance of an accurate mental recall of the many maps he’d studied?

The scenery had changed - houses were few now, the paths between buildings more dirt and stone than they were stoned tiles, like they’d been in the town square. As you and Chan make your way down the street, Chan a hand on his sword the whole time, you can’t help but marvel at the contrast present in just this one town. Had you not walked here with your own two feet, you would have believed this to be a whole new place. The town you were familiar with had tiled floors, had flowers blooming on the balconies and children in pinks and blues, greens and purples. Not the browns and creams that hung from laundry lines at the front of the houses in the night.

“Up ahead,” Chan breaths, and your eyes scan the distance.

It wasn’t hard to spot, really. The only lit house in the dark street, windows warm with yellow light. There was a sign hanging by the window, but you couldn’t make out the words - weather had gotten the better of the paint. It swung feebly with a passing breeze.

“I trust you, your highness.” Hushed words leave Chan’s lips, followed by a resigned sigh. “I just hope your own trust isn’t misplaced. If they so much as look like they’re going to hurt you, I’ll-”

“He won’t, Chan.” You place a hand on his arm. After a moment, you feel his muscles relax, and Chan moves towards the lit house.

He… won’t, right? You believed he wouldn’t - The last time you had seen him, he had been afraid. He hadn’t hurt you, though you knew he could have. He had listened to you, and you to him, and he had accepted what little help you could offer. You wanted to believe that people were good - that kindness would be remembered.

And yet, back at the castle, his highness-

“There’s someone inside.” Chan, nearing the lit window, holds a hand out to stop you. “I can’t be sure, but it seems to only be one person.”

It’s him. You swallow nervously.

How had the years changed him? Had they even changed him? Would he recognise you at all?

Chan was right. There was someone in the house, their silhouette faint against the window. They were moving around, though it was near impossible to tell what they were doing.

“Are you sure this is the house, your highness? And if so, are you sure this person can be trusted? We don’t know what will happen in the next few hours-”

“Well, we’ve little other choice.” Your statement is all you manage to get out before you push past Chan’s hand. It was now or never - dawdling by his door wouldn’t change the current situation.

Chan makes a shocked sound of protest as you push past him, but he doesn’t move to stop you - only to follow you, and you’re aware of his hand securing it’s grasp on his sword.

Standing in front of the door, you could make out the sound of running water. You raise a shaking hand, fingers curling uncertainly before you squeeze them into a fist and rap on the door. Three quick knocks, breath caught somewhere in your throat as you wait for a response.

Chan speaks up from behind you, voice urgent. “Your highness, please step back-”

The door swings open abruptly, causing you to flinch back in shock.

The heart is a funny thing, really. How can it hold so many emotions at once?

Looking at Minho after so many years was strange. It was like he hadn't aged at all, and yet he looked like he had matured twice as fast as you. His face, though as angular as it had been that night so long ago, was now more jawline and cheekbones, as opposed to malnourishment.

“Lower your weapon, knight, or else I’ll blast you from my door.”

He speaks with a tired drawl, though you see the way his eyes quint in suspicion.

“Minho, it’s me-”

“Yes, I saw you,” he cuts in, eyes still trained behind you. “Not as flashy as your friend’s sword, unfortunately.”

It’s a cold response, not at all what you had expected, but you turn all the same and glare at Chan.

“I told you he wouldn’t hurt us, so-”

“He just said he would blast me from the door-”

“Because you’re waving a great, big sword around, idiot,” Minho says with a roll of his eyes. He’s leaning against the door, body blocking the rest of his house.

“I’m her highness’ knight,” Chan states defiantly, as if challenging Minho. His gaze lingers on Chan for a second longer before he looks at you - really looks at you.

It feels like ice piercing through you, his eyes reading every thought in your head. He knows why we’re here, a small voice in your head tells you. But how could he possibly know that?

“’Her highness,’ huh.” Minho lets the words sit on his tongue, lets it mull over in his head as he regards you. His gaze falls briefly to the dagger in your hand. “Well, I don’t suppose that after all these years you just decided to spontaneously come by in the middle of the night to see how I’m doing, so it’s probably best I invite you in,” he concludes with a sigh. “Tell your knight to sheath his sword, or it’ll be as existent as his sleeve there.”

“We- We don’t have sheaths on us,” you explain hesitantly. “Or anything, really. Just his sword, and the dagger. Not even any money.”

Minho looks down at you - he was taller than you and held himself with such an air of indifference that you couldn’t bare to maintain eye contact. Were you right to come here at all? To ask for help, and, despite your position, have nothing to offer in return?

A defeated sigh leaves him before he steps aside. “Whatever. Hurry in, then.”

He steps aside and after a moment’s hesitation, you make your way into his house.

It was cozy, unlike the great stone walls of your home. Sure, the library fireplace was warm and comforting, but the sheer size of the castle and all of its many rooms were nothing compared to the small space Minho lived in.

Dried plants hung over the window, each bundle a different kind. The table was laid not with the remnants of a meal well eaten, but with more plants and glass bottles, books opened with feathers marking different sections, and a range of things you barely had time to try and identify before you were ushered further into the house.

A fire blazed low in the corner of the room, opposite a messy looking kitchen. The sink was filled with unwashed dishes and more glass bottles, which you had only ever seen in books before. Few chairs were scattered around the room - wooden chairs that you assumed to belong to the table out front were occupied by books and blankets, and a long, two-person sofa had been turned into a makeshift bed. In the corner between the sofa and the fireplace, two wooden doors lead off into unknown areas of the house.

“Well, do sit down,” Minho says with a wave of his hand. Static seems to fill the air as items move from the chairs to the floor, neatly stacking themselves upon one another. “Having the princess and her royal knight standing about my living room is making me quite… anxious, for lack of a better word.”

You watch in amazement as the blankets fold themselves up.

“You’re a magic user?!” Chan whirls on Minho, eyes wide in shock. There’s an edge of something akin to fear or anger - you can’t quite place it, distracted instead by the way the room accommodates for two more people.

“What, your princess didn’t mention that I’m a mage?” Minho retorts, amusement in his eyes. “Shame. But that seems the least of your problems, if you’re coming to my door at this hour. Now, sit.”

An invisible force maneuvers you and Chan down into the sofa. Chan falls with an indignant sound - was this his first time encountering magic? You’d never talked to Chan about magic, before. Nothing beyond stories of faeries and witches, curses and potions.

“Minho,” you begin, before Chan could say anything to worsen a relationship you were surprised had started off on such bad footing. “We- we need you help. I need your help.”

You meet his eye, and for the first time that night, Minho holds your gaze with a seriousness that felt befitting of the situation. Was he aware, after all, of the situation? You were sure that the voice you had heard earlier that night had been his. But no matter how you tried to rethink the situation, there was nothing you could think of that would explain why he had told you to run.

Perhaps you had imagined it, in your drowsed, sluggish state, but you search his face all the same, for any sign that he had sent you the message, had been aware of the potential danger you had been in.

He turns away, a shrug of his shoulders the only sign that he had heard your request at all.

Minho moves to the sink, and in a surprising act of normalcy, picks of a sponge and turns on the tap. He begins to wash his dishes.

Chan glances towards you - this person who you had believed would help obviously showed no care about whatever predicament you were in.

You fidget nervously at the velvet of your dress. Minho places a soaped up plate in the adjacent sink.

“I was hoping-”

“If you knew where to find me,” he suddenly says, his back still towards you and Chan, “Then you’ll know I run a business. Magical assistance in exchange for payment. And, as I recall, the pair of you are quite penniless at the moment.”

“Her highness is still the royal princess.” Chan sounded like he was speaking in court, stating facts as if to argue their case. His voice was clear, rock solid despite your wavering faith in Minho. “Whilst we may currently be in a difficult situation, rest assured that your assistance, should it be provided and adequate, will be rewarded fittingly.”

Minho doesn’t reply to this. He continues to wash his dishes. In the silence, you look around the living space.

Unlike your own home, the walls of Minho’s house were bare of any intricacies. Simple wood, with no grand photos of family members hanging - though, knowing Minho, you’d be surprised if he even had any. Across the fireplace mantel were jars of what seemed to be dried up herbs, sticks of what you recognised as cinnamon, and- were those egg shells? A strange assortment of things, you mused.

“Your highness,” Chan whispers. He leans in towards you, sofa shifting under him, and raises a hand to cover his mouth. “Perhaps your trust- Apologies. Perhaps we are unwelcomed here. It may be best we leave as soon as possible, if this boy refuses to help us.”

“He’s the same age as us, Chan.” Well, you think he is, anyways. “Please - just give it another minute.”

Despite your hopes, Chan seems to be right. The only thing dissuading you from the belief that Minho wanted nothing to do with your recent events was the fact that he hadn’t blatantly turned you away.

The sound of water eases and shuts off. Minho busies his hands - with what, you couldn’t see.

“Was there trouble? At the palace?”

You’re surprised by his question - so he was willing to help? Or, at the very least, hear you out?

“Yes, how did-”

“What makes you say that?” Chan says, and a jolt ran through you. Never had Chan spoken over you so forcefully before. He doesn’t meet your eyes and instead frowns at the back of the mage’s head.

Minho doesn’t answer immediately. He continues whatever other task he had started, back to you. After a few seconds, he turns and grabs for a tea towel. He leans back against the sink, wiping his hands.

“Well, is it not the most obvious thing to have happened?” With a forced smile at Chan, Minho discards the towel behind him. “Why else would you and the princess be at my door, penniless and on foot, at this hour? If not for trouble at the palace, surely you would have opted for a horse or two, and if you knew I ran a business, surely you would come with some form of payment.”

The points, while well made, seemed to do little to ease whatever suspicion had overcome Chan - it didn’t take much to guess what those suspicions were concerning, and you turn to Chan with a resigned look.

“It took you some time to formulate such an easily deducible answer,” Chan muses aloud.

“Well, then why ask such an obvious question?” Minho retorts and all of a sudden the temperature in the room seems to drop. The air seems to fizz, and a stroke of fear enters your body as he returns Chan’s glare with his own pointed look.

He pushes off of the sink and walks forward.

He doesn’t carry the same angry threat that you’d seen come from Chan when his men were out of line. No glowering, no fists at his side, no long strides to advance upon his opponent. He seems to simply walk across the room instead, his head held high and jaw clenched ever so subtly, never breaking eye contact with Chan. He stops half-way - he doesn’t need to make the full distance. Chan abruptly stands up and makes his own advance.

“Chan, honestly*-***”

“I don’t quite appreciate the way you’re regarding me, knight.” Each of Minho’s words seems to be accentuated by the flicker of the fireplace flame. They’re spoken clearly, carefully - not quite a whisper, but then again, it didn’t take much for him to be heard in the silence. “The implications you’re making, while subtle, are not left unknown to me, human.”

The two of them, knight and mage, are in the middle of Minho’s living space, the tension so high that you didn’t know who to fear for.

“I’ll have you know something, mage*.***” Chan snarls. “I don’t trust you. Not one bit; not at all.” He’s breathing down Minho’s chest, a snarl you’d never seen before turning the face of someone you’d grown up with into someone almost unrecognisable. “I’m only here because her highness believes strongly that you will help us.” He jabs a finger into Minho’s chest, though the latter only raises a brow. “However, it is my job to keep her safe and even if I respect her opinion of others, it does not mean that her and I are of the same mind.”

He’s breathing heavily by the end of it, the tips of his ears red. You had risen from your seat at some point, the waves of unease in your stomach turning turbulent. Your eyes dart back and forth between the two of them.

“And I’ll remind you that it is my house you are standing in and it is my assistance that you are seeking.”

Minho is no where near taller than Chan. The two stand face to face, and yet it was like the mage was looking down at Chan. The scary calm that had taken over him, the careful control of his emotions and his magic - you could feel it in the air, feel the static you had felt earlier, only this was cold. Cold, chilling static, like that of winter waters or thick snowfall.

He doesn’t break eye-contact with Chan. He blinks, he takes steady breaths, he keeps his chin raised, but he doesn’t falter.

After what feels like an age, Chan turns and walks past Minho. You take a step after him, fearful that he was about to leave out the front door, but he simply places himself on one of the vacated stools. He was out of Minho’s point of view, and though the latter was still in his, Chan crossed his arms and closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall.

It seemed impossible for you to exhale fully, much less take a deep breath. You had expected some resistance from Chan when he inevitably found out that Minho was a mage but whatever had happened in the last few minutes was beyond anything you could have imagined.

“Minho, I-” You turn hastily away from Chan and to Minho, who had not moved. He looks at you now with troubled eyes. Gulping, you take in the deepest breath you can manage and exhale through pursed lips. You try again. “Could we perhaps take this elsewhere?”

A tired, resigned smile makes its way to Minho’s face. “Perhaps that would be best.”

It turns out, you discover, that one of the two mysterious doors led out to a garden.

The door shuts quietly behind you as you breathe in the night air. Minho’s garden, while no larger than his living space, seemed to house a variety of plants. Flowers of differing colours, shapes and sizes filled the majority of the space, alongside some recognisable vegetables - tomatoes and lettuce, though few, seemed fresh and ready to harvest. All the plants, you notice, seem to shine in the night. Taking a step closer, you almost let out an exclamation as one, two, three glowing creatures dart in and between the flowers.

“They maintain the garden for me,” Minho says, as if it explained everything. You turn to him, having forgotten for a moment that he was with you. “A marvelous help, they are, especially when I’m away on business.”

He picks up a basket, hanging it off his arm and walks up to a purple flower. You watch as Minho inspects it before pulling a pair of scissors from the basket and cutting the flower off its stem.

“Minho, I wanted to apologise for-”

“There is no need. I don’t seek an apology from you - nor the knight, I might add, before you berate him for his behaviour.” His basket was quickly filling with flowers, though you note there’s no more than two of each kind. “It is not uncommon for me to hear such things, for it is not easy to place your faith in things you do not understand. Though, I confess, such things are less common now. Do you mind?”

He hands you the basket - now filled with so many things that you wouldn’t know where to start if he were to ask you to remove a flower from the lot - and picks up another. This one he begins to fill with produce.

“But he is still my knight, and I ask for your assistance not just for myself but for him as well. Tonight-” You break off, and Minho spares you a glance over the shoulder before he returns to his carrots. “It is perhaps unfair of me to ask you for your help, after all these years,” you finish, an increasing hopelessness somehow making sense of itself in your mind.

A decade, perhaps, it had been since you last saw him. You had every possible means to seek him out after parting, had an abundance of ways you could have assisted him - for you knew, even if he had rejected help the first time, that to do something was better than nothing, and yet you had kept quiet about your encounter. For his own safety, one may have reasoned, but in hindsight it seemed a child’s selfishness was what kept him a secret. Something for you to know, and no one else. Not the maids who tended to you every day, or the queen who asked you what you had done that afternoon, or Chan who was by your side whenever possible.

Minho had returned to stand before you, the second basket full of tomatoes, lettuce, and a range of root vegetables. The hem of his pants were speckled with dirt, and a smudge of it ran over his cheek.

“You saved my life, y/n. I think you underestimate the consequences of our meeting far too much.”

It was like the child you had met so many years ago was back before you, a vulnerability in his eyes that you couldn’t quite understand. You, who had always been sheltered, had always had your safety assured, prioritised, and the child who had been covered in dirt and bruises, twigs sticking out of his hair and so tangled up that you’d had to sit him down and carefully undo all the knots.

The way Minho looked at you now almost scared you - if your request had been not for help, but for his life, you were sure he would have said yes.

Unable to hold the truth in his gaze any longer, you busy yourself with readjusting the basket in your hand, carefully easing the petals away from the rim as to not crush them.

“The last thing I wish to do is to hold that over you, Minho,” you say softly. “It was wrong of me to come to you for help when I fear that asking it of others would endanger their safety. You too are part of this kingdom, and I cannot simply treat you different because of the past.”

“Can’t you?” He sounds wistful, you think, the words almost musing, so soft and quiet that you weren’t sure if they were meant for only your ears, or for no one’s at all.

Then, as if there had been no sentimentality at all, Minho flourishes his hand and the basket of flowers levitates out of your grasp. “I’ll help you - but first, it would seem a good night’s sleep would do you well.”

The door swing opens as Minho nears it, and he gestures for you to enter the house first. The flowers follow you in, Minho bringing up the rear.

Chan, who’d been pacing by the fire, looks up abruptly when he hears you come in. Relief seems to wash over his features, and you give him a strained smile.

“Minho said he’d help us.” You lay a hand on Chan’s arm, and the tension seems to leave his body at the confirmation of your physical presence. “We can rest here for the night, and figure everything out tomorrow.”

“On that note - here, to help you sleep.” A small opaque bottle floats its way to you. “Just light a match, drop in there and leave it in the room. I’m sure the night’s events will leave your mind running when given the chance.”

You take the jar in your hands, feeling its weight as the magic disappears. Peering inside seemed pointless - the opening was just small enough for your finger to fit in; barely enough light could enter the jar for you to see its contents.

“And a salve, for any minor wounds you may have.”

This time, a red jar lands by the sink. It’s even smaller than the bottle, barely the size of your palm. Though Minho doesn’t look at him, you know that he had taken note of the wound at Chan’s side.

“You can take my bed, y/n. The knight can sleep on the floor, or something. I don’t really care.”

“You little-”

Minho ignores Chan, moving to grab a satchel from the table. Your eyes follow him, the way he truly seems to disregard Chan’s presence as he walks past him and towards the front door.

“And you? Where will you sleep, then? I insist you keep your bed-”

“Oh, I won’t be sleeping tonight.” Hand on the doorknob, he turns to you with a glint in his eye. “The moon is full. It’d be a waste to do something as mundane as sleep tonight. I’ll be close by, and there are protective charms on the house. Worry not.”

The door shuts behind him before you or Chan can even protest.

—

Chan’s wound had stopped bleeding. Though he had played it off as a simple graze, you were relieved to see it wasn’t too much of an understatement. The initial redness that surrounded the wound had frozen your mind with fear, but after taking a wet cloth to it, you discovered that it was mostly dried blood that had spread.

The salve Minho had given you smelt resinous, like wood that had been left out in the rain. Your face scrunches up as you scoop a small amount up with your fingers. Setting the jar down next to the chair Chan was sat on, you steady yourself with a hand on his knee and run the salve over his wound. He flinches at the sensation, muscles tensing under your fingers, but keeps his shirt held up.

“You don’t think he’s tricked you into poisoning me, do you?”

You spare a glare at Chan.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you say, though you know he was just trying to ease the tension.

Though Minho hadn’t returned since he’d left, you could still feel Chan’s discomfort with the situation. He too seemed to sense that you wee troubled - you had caught him shooting you anxious glances as you’d prepared to treat his wound.

“You know, he told me not to berate you.” Having finished applying the salve, you push yourself up from the floor and dust your skirts off. Chan avoids your eye, fixating instead on straightening his shirt and picking at the torn fabric under the flickering light of the fireplace. “Just because he says he doesn’t seek an apology, doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t get one.”

Chan’s jaw clenches, and he looks up you through furrowed brows. “Are you ordering me to apologise to him?”

Your jaw drops at his words, helpless against the hurt that they bring you. For him to bring status into this, to make it seem like he would rather be anywhere but here - his words from earlier echo in your brain: I’m only here because her highness believes strongly that you will help us.

“Chan, that’s not at all what I-”

“I don’t feel like I’ve anything to apologise for,” he says, voice edged with annoyance. “I don’t trust him. I have spoken my truth - but I won’t interrogate you for yours.” His voice is gentler, resigned. “Though, I admit the mage is right. You should rest, your highness. It has been an eventful night, and you will need your energy for tomorrow.”

It felt wrong, to leave and rest without resolving the tension that had formed between you and Chan. A part of you didn’t understand why he had been so aggressive towards Minho, why he was so against the idea of his help… and yet you knew it was wrong of you to expect Chan to understand your thoughts and feelings when you had given him nothing to help form an understanding of your relationship with Minho. To Chan, you realised, Minho was simply an unknown stranger who possessed the abilities to have aided the night’s chaos.

But it felt wrong to reveal your and Minho’s shared history with Chan. Afterall, it wasn’t only your story to tell.

So you take a deep breath, try to catch Chan’s eye one more time, before murmuring a small goodnight.

Minho’s bedroom, located behind the second of the mysterious doors, was dimly lit by a a candle sitting on the corner of his desk. There was a single, unmade bed next to it, and a set of drawers at the other end of the room. Another door (which you presumed led to the bathroom, for you hadn’t seen one in your time here, and what home had no bathroom?) stood in the corner, next to the drawers. There was a window,

It was a small bedroom, void of anything unnecessary.

Placing the bottle Minho had given you on the table, you search for a match. His desk was covered in books and papers, and it’s not until you brave a small box on his desk that you find the matches. You do as he had instructed - striking one, you watch as the corner you stood in lit orange before dropping it into the bottle.

You had been skeptical that dropping a match into such a small space would work - surely, the fire would be extinguished, right? - but you’re mildly surprised when a soft, sweet scent arises. It reminded you of home, of late nights spend in the library reading stories of knights and princesses, witches and curses. A familiar drowsiness overcomes you.

It doesn’t take long for you to find yourself sliding under Minho’s covers. Your mind spares a moment for you to feel embarrassed at the act of sleeping in not only someone else’s bed, but in a man’s bed, before it lets the exhaustion take over.

This time, you don’t fight the heaviness of your body like you had so many hours ago.

This time, you let it consume you.

---

a/n: hi hi! thank you for reading. comments, throughts, feedback, questions - all of these (and more) are appreciated! if you want to be added to the taglist (or alternatively, removed) please let me know &lt;3

[rattyoakenbitch]

❝𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞❞ ─ 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨

hey, it's not like you ever tried to stay . .

❥ content ; gn reader, angst, dark themes, yandere themes, toxic relationship

❥ warnings ; sxlf hxrm & mxtilation, swearing, verbal abuse, manipulation, slight nxdity lol

❥ synopsis ; all you wanted was his attention. and by the gods, you were going to get his attention by any means.

❥ a/n ; first mello fic (: i've been wanting to write something dark for a while and ig i finally got the opportunity lol. i thought i got out of my death note stage but i'm back, so please don't be afraid to send requests or ask to be added to my nonexistent taglist! alsoo while this oneshot does include s/h, i am in no way glorifying or romanticizing it!!! but i do tend to write angsty and dark fics. again, this is a work of fiction and i don't intend for anyone to take this too seriously and let this influence them.

The loud crash of a glass echoed throughout the room as a vase went flying through the air and collided with the wall, just a few feet from where you were standing.

You didn't flinch. Didn't scream. Didn't cry. Didn't react. You were used to Mello's fits of rage by now, months into your relationship. If you could even call it that, at this point.

You knew Mello wouldn't dare lay a finger on you; if he did, he'd cut off his own hands and have live with the guilt forever, knowing he brought you harm. Which is why you didn't react.

However, he didn't seem to have a problem when it was only verbal.

"I don't fucking get you!" Mello spat harshly and continued to rant, "Why did you think that was okay?! Did you once consider how I felt?! I was worried sick that some asshole hurt you but you come back a day later and tell me you were at some boy's house!"

You only scoff, leaning against the wall in a relaxed manner, eyeing the remaining shards of the vase carefully. Just like Mello, you were incredibly stubborn.

"Answer me, Y/N!"

"Okay, Mihael," you state cooly, using Mello's legal name and causing him to listen more intently. "First of all, I don't know what you expected me to do when you invited your weird mafia 'friends' over while I was trying to sleep. Second, he's not 'some boy', his name is Y/F/N and he's one of a few people I can trust. I don't know what you think of me."

"You could've gotten a hotel room, that's what!"

"With what money, Mihael?! What fucking money? You forced me to quit my job and then practically lock me up in this hell hole that I can't even call 'home' anymore!"

Mello huffed. "Pfft, you should be grateful. I've kept you safe all this time, away from the dangers of the world. You're alive because of me. Me. You're mine."

"Yeah, some fucking life, right?"

"I provide for you, I protect you from the monsters out in the world, but you still decide to go and whore yourself out to your little 'friend'," Mello sneered, his sharp voice dripping with venom.

You stared at your boyfriend in disbelief. All words, all arguments and nasty retorts expiring on your lips.

"I.." You start, but laugh pitifully. "I don't even know what you're saying. I don't know if you even know what you're saying. Honestly, Mello, just when I thought you couldn't surprise me anymore, you start spewing complete and utter bullshit out of your mouth." Mello's silence only egged you on. "It's no wonder Near always came in first place." Aaand there it was. You snapped.

If looks could kill, you'd be dead. Mello's eyes widened in anger at the mention of Near, reminding him of his inferiority.

In a completely different situation where he wasn't on the receiving end, Mello would be smiling proudly, listening to your clever retorts and comebacks. You've always been as stubborn and hot headed as him, and he really liked that about you, fuck that "opposites attract" bullshit. (I ACC LOVE THAT TROPE LOL IM SORRY) However, considering you were both extremely toxic people, it was far from entertaining when it was you who got in a fight with the other.

You didn't stop, though. If he was gonna play that who-could-be-more-toxic game, you weren't gonna back down.

"I don't know if it was the explosion or you've really always been that stupid, but you need to get the fuck over yourself and stop throwing tantrums when you find out that I have a life, too, and I have friends. Friends who actually give a damn."

You stare down each other in silence, a heavy tension hanging in the air. Still, after a few moments, Mello didn't make any effort to speak or react, other than walking out of the room.

Days, weeks went by. Mello hasn't spoken a word to you. Hasn't even looked in your direction when you passed each other or walked into the same room. You didn't exist anymore, and it worried you.

Mello was never like this. Within a few days or even hours after an argument, you would easily kiss and make up. Had you gone too far this time?

Besides the fact that Mello was intentionally giving you the cold shoulder, he was also busy with work, and was out of the house from midnight to early afternoon. During that time, you would stay at home and carry out your every day mundane tasks and chores.

Even now, you didn't seek comfort in your family or friends. You were either busy keeping the house clean, sleeping, or entertaining yourself on social media. But it was all a sad attempt to keep your mind occupied on anything else other than Mello.

And one day like any other where Mello was out doing whatever the hell mafia dudes do, you snapped. You decided you were sick of the silent treatment.

If Mello was gonna play dirty and ignore you, you were gonna give him something to react to.

Mello came home some time after sunset. Kicking off his boots as he walked in the front door, he immediately knew something was off. It was quiet - too quiet. Despite the fact that you were practically taking some sort of forced break after the argument, you acted the same. You went about your day and didn't bother acting shy or timid around Mello. You still hummed earworm pop songs to yourself or put on a podcast to fill the tense air. But now there was nothing. Just Mello, the walls, and the silence.

Mello cautiously walked around the house and searched for any signs of you, fearing the worst.

As he frantically looked around, he stopped abruptly at the sight of blood smeared onto the hallway wall.

Blood.

His heartbeat began to thump loudly in his ears.

Then he noticed more blood. And more, smeared up on the wall, and eventually a trail picked up. He followed the bloody trail as it lead him through the hallway and stopped outside of your shared bedroom that he hasn't been inside for weeks.

Mello shakily inhaled and braced himself for whatever gruesome scene he would walk into.

He reached for the doorknob, twisting it and letting himself in.

Soon as he did, he ceased all motions, his breath caught in his throat as he tried to process what his eyes were showing him.

There, you sat on the bed, nothing on but your underwear and one of Mello's shirts. On one hand, you loosely held a pocket knife. On the other, you had your sleeve rolled up, your inner arm facing Mello's direction.

Your doe eyes looked up from the floor and met Mello's panicked ones. He was finally looking at you again. Despite the gorey setting and the stinging in your arm, you smiled. You were real to him again.

Multiple cuts oozed blood and trickled down your arm, onto your now dirtied clothes and the once satin white sheets below you.

As Mello got closer, silently freaking out, he could now see that these weren't just cuts - you carved out words. Sentences, onto your arm.

Among the many bloody 'I love you's' and pleads, one word stuck out to him.

It was his name.

He felt sick. Distraught. Guilty. Afraid.

"Y/N," he choked out shakily.

His gaze trailed up your arm, your body, and fixated onto your seemingly innocent face. Your face was rested and gentle, your eyes still staring up at him with adoration and desperation. If it weren't for the blood that painted your whole body and surroundings red, he would have found comfort in your presence.

"I did this.." You ran your fingers along your fresh wounds, not once wincing or drawing back in discomfort. "For you."

You continued, a sick sweetness in your voice. "Jus' wanted to show you how much I love you.. You've been leaving me so lonely, Mello." You frowned. "It was only a matter of time before I had to do something. And now you're finally here.. And you won't leave me again."

[unfinishedsweetsimphony]

salvation and sanctuary

[requested by anon m]

~Sapnap x Reader, SMP!Wilbur Soot x Reader~

Summary: In this world, your soulmate is the one who will save you from death. Also, in this world, the gods of destiny thought it would be funny to make the soulmate connection Minecraft themed. 

Genre: SoulmateAU! Fluff, elements of hurt/comfort, smudge of angst. Headcannon format

Pronouns: They/them (Gender-neutral)

Warnings: Near-death situations, short reader, captial letters and cursing.

[a/n: THAT’S IT IM SIMPING FOR M! Thank you so much for requesting and supporting my work. It truly means so much to me. I’ve decided to do hybrid of bullet points and blurbs for this one because I wanted to have some ~variety~ in the format of the soulmate fics. Additionally, I did a mix of both by doing ‘irl’ Sapnap and SMP/c!Wilbur Soot. I hope that’s okay with you, m. I hope you enjoy, have a lovely day <3 Edit: Sapnap expressed discomfort of fanfictions including his first name so I changed it!]

╒═════ ��� ★✦★ ▬ ═════╕

                  Sapnap

╘═════ ▬ ★✦★ ▬ ═════╛

★ It all began at a PC café.

★ (Y/N) was a regular since it was a nice change from their all-too-familiar room and the coffee and pastries were the best.

★ On the other hand, this is Sapnap’s first time at a PC café. 

★ Usually, he would just use the setup he has at home but he figured that he might as well try it at least once.

★ Plus the café was having special where first-timers get their first hour and snacks free

★ And who was he to decline free shit?

★ (Y/N) and Sapnap crossed paths when he sat behind them playing Minecraft, (Y/N) noticed, and (Y/N) offered to join him.

★ The two bonded over the game and played together until they were out of money and remembered “wait, we could just use the pcs we have at home and keep this party going”

★ They get up to head to their respective homes and that’s when the height difference was noticed.

★ “Oh my god that’s fucking adorable.”, Sapnap thought.

★ Cue the eyebrow raise from (Y/N)

★ “Shit I said that out loud.”

★Both of them continue to hang out as friends for months.

★ One of these hang-outs, they were going down a really crowded sidewalk.

★ They had to hold hands so they didn’t lose each other. (cha cha real smooth)

★ But in a particularly dense part of the mass of people, (Y/N) was pushed out into the street.

‘Who’s idea was it to go here? We should’ve gone at a different time and avoided all this-’, Sapnap’s thoughts were interrupted by the lack of warmth in his left hand. ‘Shit, where’s (Y/N)?’, Sapnap panics and tries to crane his neck to find them in the crowd, ‘Damn them and their smallness.’

Finally, he sees them getting pushed around and makes his way towards them. Nick was almost to their side when (Y/N) gets pushed out into the road. They stumble and fall pretty bad, hitting their head. Nick decides to forgo ‘Excuse me’s and ‘Sorry’s; he just needs to get to them before they get hurt further.

(Y/N) manages to sit up, disgruntled and loopy; not registering the speeding car headed their way. ‘Oh no. Move. Move. Fuck, fuck, shit, shit’, Sapnap’s body goes into autopilot and he lunges forward, grabbing (Y/N) to his chest, the inertia causing him to fall back on to the sidewalk. “Holy fuck, that was close.’, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “Are you alright? We should get to the doctor.”

★ Right then, it happened.

★The soulmate connection within clicked.

★ After a visit from to the hospital, they decided to make it official with a cute date at home since (Y/N) needed their rest.

★ “What’s up, what’s so funny?” “This is the greatest day of my life and I almost got fucking run over today.”

╔════◈◉◈════╗

  SMP!Wilbur Soot

╚════◈◉◈════╝

◉ (Y/N) was Eret’s sibling and has known Wilbur since the drug van. 

◉ At first they were just an apprentice trying to make a quick buck and in for a good time, but soon they fell head over feels for Wilbur.

◉ So when Wilbur proposed to start a nation, (Y/N) was right by his side.

◉ As for Wilbur, he has always been fond of (Y/N).

◉ He always admired their work ethic and loyalty and fell in love with their daring spirit and clever mind.

◉ The two can usually be seen making drugs, working on political documents, and teasing each other about their height.

◉ “Will, I swear to god if you rest your arm on my head one more time I’m gonna-” “Oh what’s that? I’m sorry I can’t hear you from all the way up here.”

◉ That earned him a swift kick to the back of the knees which made him topple like a Jenga tower. Tommy nearly burst his lung laughing.

◉ Together they were the feared duo, an unstoppable force on the battlefield and on the podium.

◉ Skip to to the moment where Eret has his hand over the button.

“To think, we were family. That I trusted you, believed you, and defended you!”, (Y/N) looked at Eret with such disdain and hurt that he flinched. “I’m sorry...”, he began, “It was never meant to be.”

BOOM!

What was supposed be one crater turned into a minefield of explosions. Wilbur was knocked back, but (Y/N) was quick to act and pulled Wilbur away from the other blasts. Tommy and Tubbo were already running, with Tommy leading the way. (Y/N) caught Sapnap aiming a crossbow in Wilbur’s direction and threw themself into the way, much to Wilbur’s dismay.

Their health quickly dropped, but they fought through the pain and turned to fire back at Sapnap. Their arrow hit the mark and distracted him enough to get away.

In the bunker Tommy made, they took a moment to heal themselves. Wilbur finished wrapping up the bandages around (Y/N)’s back and sat down next to them. “Thank you.”, he handed them some bread, “For saving me back there.” (Y/N) gladly accepted the food and gave him a genuine smile, “Hey, I’m with you ‘till the end of the line. Don’t worry about it. I know you would do the same for me”

“Hey guys, I think you should check the chat.”, Tubbo interjected.

The two did just that and they saw it.

WilburSoot has just earned the achievement [Guess I fell for you]

melodious(Y/N) has just earned the achievement [Guardian Angel]

[pencilscratchins]

pls,,,, water my crops with wu/mako uno reverse au hcs

look the reverse wu/mako universe has many wonderful possibilities.. here is just one way it can go....

- wu’s parents were two earthbenders, killed when he’s young so he lives with his aunt who is terrible & abusive, so he runs away and lives on the streets. 

- wu is still a nonbender, but he’s super clever and charismatic so he’s able to pull off a ton of scams for the triad, who he joins for self preservation. he never becomes that good at fighting but he’s certainly more a little more physically capable than canon wu. (also i like the idea he learns how to chi block bc he found out his mom was once a kyoshi warrior). after a job almost gets him arrested, he realizes he’s gotta get out of there.

- he doesn’t have a resume obviously, so he just talks his way into convincing the arena to give him a job as a match announcer. 

- korra still sneaks out to see a probending match, but this time wu sees how into it she’s getting in the stands so he’s like “LOVE your energy queen let’s kick it, get some noodles ALSO why do you look so familiar?” shes like “oh im the avatar” and hes like “omg do you know kyoshi”

- they become friends because they’re chaotic energies just vibe and wu gets her a spot on probending team (the other members of which i still don’t know) 

- tenzin is less than thrilled about the union but he cannot shake him off.

- wu cant cross the street (hes gay) so asami still runs into him.but shes a stan so shes like “oh! I know what voice! let me make it up to you! can i take you shopping or to dinner?” and wu knows a trust fund kid when he sees one so hes like “oh we’re gonna be friends”

- then, of course, he introduces his two friends and korra falls instantly into Simp Behavior because uhhhh the last time she saw a girl that pretty, it was just pictures of katara in her 20’s so she did not need to form words in her presence.

- now, since the premiere krew is korra and her nonbending buddies, the amon storyline could have a lot of wu & korra going undercover, and since now theyre all consciously queer a lot of frank dicussion about asami’s relationship with her dad.

- meanwhile in the earth kingdom, mako’s father was the younger son of the earth king, so nobody minds when he marries a woman from the fire nation. but his older brother dies before he can have kids so mako’s the crown prince before he even starts bending.

- when they find out hes a firebender, they’re like “oh UH FUCK” and instantly cover that up and say he’s a nonbender bc the earth kingdoms a little backwards.

- mako’s trying to convince himself that he’s cool with this, he’s fine he can sacrifice that for his country, but bolins always like you deserve better bro :(

- with the fall out after amon, their parents think its a good idea for the boys to represent the earth kingdom in republic city so they send them along.

- tenzin thinks its important to maintain good relationships with the other world leaders so he offers them a place to stay at the air temple. bolin loves the aesthetic so he forces them to accept.

- korra & bolin still hit it off right away, but korra thinks makos a fuddy duddy with no sense of humor so she cant stand him. wu on the other hand is like “oh that is a man”

- mako and korra eventually talk and realize they both lead super sheltered lives and shes like “you just have to get out there and experience things and live your truth or whatever”

- makos is inspired so he starts to get up super early and practice his firebending with the air temples tools n shit, thinking no one will see him.

- except wu is a weird twink with no concept of boundaries or sleep schedule so he catches him one morning and is like “i have an amazing idea, let me sneak you into a pro bending team! I’ve done it before I’ll do it again!” (this is totally inspired by this fic btw)

- thats all she got folks. That’s all she got.

[jrueships]

Have you seen that youtb vid of demar getting mad at kyle for floping on their last heat/bulls game? Im sorry but its hot 🤷

IT'S DEFINITELY.. SOMETHING. I think on it.. often.. FIRSTLY... Kyle literally looking BACK at demar running over to defend him before cutting in front of Deebo's path and drawing the 'foul'.. he knew what he was doin. It's in the classic 'Clever Girl..' jurassic kyle repertoire !!! he ALWAYS has to do one (1) QUICK look back to make sure whatever evil act he is planning is going to WORK. If you are on the COURT with kyle and he gives you a one second glance before quickly looking away. . You ARE going to DIE .

How deebo didn't REALIZE ??? I have no. Idea. Perhaps he was ... distracted 🤔? By something quite ... Large 😳 . Voluminous, perhaps 😏 Posterior 😳. Who knows 😇😇! ( we Do. )

Second but this says one because I didn't plan out the font at first. I just personally hate reading BLOCKS of text all crammed together , (which makes proofreading fics so HARD) , so i try to space out as much as I can in my own stuff. But anyways DEMAR looking back at Kyle while he's complaining to the ref. Calling out his name to the ref like Kyle is gonna miraculously grow a heart and tell the truth on the foul 😭. 'Kyle TELL HER , MAN! tell her you FLOPPED !!!' And kyle immediately looking away 😭😭 HE KNOWS WHAT HES DONE !!!! him waddling away while deebo is shouting for him LMAO. Only looking up to see the replay and how convincing he looked.. they are so Stupid.... love them !!

and the fact that the game was in 4th quarter and a tie... and Kyle decided to do THAT to his HUSBAND??? men who will do Anything to Win. Even the other bulls were like 'wtf thats BULLSHIT???' zach was probably like ' i know /i/ would Never do deebo like That' (thats because youre straight so shut up but i digress)

But like.. kyle KNOWS deebo is no push over... he probably (has) did this all the time to deebo when they practiced together on the raps lol. Originally during deebos distrust of him, demar was like 'that's so dirty. DIE little man!!!' But now he's just. Used to it LOL. doesn't even YELL at Kyle for it or push him or anythin... just goes straight to the ref because he's just so Used to it. Just KNOWS it's bullshit. He'll note this down in his metaphor-filled brain and add it to his 'kyle is an Asshole' memory compartment as a new 'i love my husband hes such a brat' story to tell (bore) all his friends and random people in the near future. Kyle probably won't even remember his CRIME toward deebo so demar will have to remind him everyday. How? ... who knows (i Do 😳)

IM JUS SAYIN THO... Kyle talking about deebo is an art in general (and vise versa!!! Especially!) But... BUT.. the way his favorite thing to note about demar is his competiveness... the one time he Yelled at him On court ??? IT'S A LITTLE. IT'S A LITTLE..... telling, KYLE.

Something to Share with the Class, Mr lowry 🤨?