#i'm of the belief that she has feelings for him in the first book but doesn't fall in love with him until the second

[irisbaggins]

This isn't going to be as in-depth as my other meta (I am too tired after Uni and thinking about different literary theories), but I've seen some folks point it out and wanted to add my own two cents:

From the way I view Evan's behaviour since the killing of Philtrum, I read it as him becoming defeatist towards his own nature. He truly believes he's a bad person, who doesn't deserve love nor happiness. He chafes against any assertion that he's loved or cherished, and he clashes with anyone attempting to assert that he's valuable and loved just the way he is. The only person who he doesn't outright clash with is Sam, and that is - I believe - only due to the fact he saw and experienced her emotions and feelings, and therefore cannot quite dispute them. With Jammer and K he can, because he doesn't have that insight into their true feelings. He can make assumptions, then, and run with that idea.

Why does this matter, then? Well, I've noticed how Evan pushes back against the three, and how it differs with each person. Because he does clash against all of them, just differently depending on the person. With Sam, he doesn't outright deny her claims, but it's clear he doesn't believe her fully. He just doesn't say it because it makes her sad and, after every kindness she's shown him, he doesn't think she deserves to feel like that. With Jammer, we've seen him either outright challenge him - how he's mentioned to Jammer's teammates and the lack of talking about his inherent magic - and we've seen him doubt and distrust Jammer's overt affection - not believing they're family, despite Jammer's insistence that they are. And with K, Evan has never truly believed himself worthy of love, but he doesn't quite understand that that's the issue K has with him, and therefore thinks K just wants to "change him" to fit their worldview (instead of being that K wants to "fix him" in terms of his self worth etc.).

Evan clashes with all of them, and I argue that it's because he doesn't see himself as worthy of their compassion. I would have to re-watch the first few episodes of the season to be sure, but I have the distinct feeling that Evan's refusal to believe in his friends' compassion started after killing B2, something he did without hesitation and without direct remorse. And I think that's the core issue, here. I believe that's why Evan is so adamant in his position, in his belief of his unworthiness, in his desire for power and control; he truly believes he became what he always feared, and he's both accepted this and is also denying it. He pretends everything's fine, yet he also cannot escape the feeling that he's doomed. He called himself heir to the evil house, something he's always denied. I think that alone is an insight into Evan's mindset; he thinks himself evil, which places him in direct opposition to his friends who he believes to be good.

I talked about K and control, and how they can - in their attempt to pretend - be hurtful in what they say. I argue the same is true with Evan, but instead of being directly self-sabotaging with his speech, he's doing it indirectly. He's placing himself as someone they shouldn't trust, and he himself might not be consciously aware of it. He's self-sabotaging, at least from the way I read his actions, especially in light of K's conversation with Tabby. He doesn't trust that the affection of others is genuine, and therefore will treat it as if it weren't. And he's only gotten worse, I think. Yes, he can throw out affection and "I love yous", but receiving them? He doesn't know how to handle that, and will either just go along with it quietly, or question it directly.

Evan's trapped within a negative feedback loop, and I think this is only heightened with his conflict with the Qohlye, and his conflict with him. Specifically, I'm thinking about the ways in which Evan refuses to actually understand why he was given the book, and why it's a horribly sad thing to happen to him. Not because the Qohlye thinks Evan is only meant for sadness, but because the Qohlye understands and knows that the book will only lead Evan to a darker place in a desperate attempt to keep control. The Qohlye is sad, I think, because he knows Evan will happily walk a path he himself doesn't want just to keep his friends close - something that will, in the end, only lead to great sadness. Just take his near sacrifice when saving K from death in the first season, or killing B2 in this season. Evan is a self-fulfilling prophecy, and the Qohlye sees this, and sees Evan refusing to attempt to understand it. That's the sad part, I think. That's where that grief comes from. It comes from seeing a bright and kind kid destroy themselves because of them believing themselves unworthy of love.

I could go on with this topic, but I think I'll end my rant for now by concluding with this: Evan hasn't acknowledged the demons directly since he discovered they had returned, and I am very worried with what's going to happen in the last two episodes. Especially with the references to "kill your dad" and all. Evan is such an interesting character to analyse, especially since he's such a flawed and complex character. Often, what I've noticed with him, is that it's what he doesn't say that leaves the most impact. And him not acknowledging his own emotions and his own fears regarding his nature is quite telling. Especially as he's positioned himself as a wizard killer. I'll probably write some more meta at a later date regarding him - as well as meta on K, Jammer, and Sam, as I find all of them so incredibly fascinating. But I shall end the post now before I fall asleep typing, because I am dead on my feet. So, if this post makes no sense, really sorry about that! Will probably refine it later when I'm dodging writing about my thesis.

Also, just wanted to add: If anyone has like, any points, disagreements, or just general thoughts about this post and my takes, I'm happy to hear them! I'm always up to hear what others think of my takes, especially if you disagree. It always fascinates me to hear what others think about characters and a story, so please do not hesitate to interact if you have your own two cents!

[madeofjules]

Quietly one of Katniss and Peeta's best kisses. They're in their "real friends/fake lovers" phase but here she kisses him because she genuinely wants to, not because she has to.

[lucabyte]

Finally: The NoHats AU doodles. Plus some sprite edits.

Usually I'd let things speak for themselves and keep my chattering in the tags, but I'll ramble about my context thoughts...

So. First of all here's a link (x) to the Nohats Origin Post for those coming in and going ????.

Anyway. These doodles are not in any obvious chronological order, though Loop going from pilfered bandolier (my headcanon for how Siffrin has all those pockets) -> custom outfit made by Isabeau, is supposed to generally denote 'just after the ending' -> 'a few months down the line'.

And speaking of, Design & Characterisation notes:

Overall: NoHats is suppooooosed to have the range to not just be ULTIMATE MISERY ALL THE TIME (but if you're a major whump/angst fan. go fucking nuts.) so these are supposed to be. The steps toward overcoming and living with grief but. The Misery Is Kind Of The Punchiest Part.... Oops....

Mirabelle: Taking the lead, continuing to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. In the game proper she's already shown to, while yes, be emotionally fragile at times, be prone to trying to hold the team together. I feel she'd do the same here. It also would help that she'd presumably be medicated again? But I can't imagine her chosen-one anxieities would be super ailed by the death of her friend. I wanted to try and give her more differences? She follows the change belief after all and is thus liable to switch up her style in general... But I didn't have a strong vision for this, so. The ball is in anyone's court. Her design changes here are keeping one of Sif's safety pins a la qpr bonding earring, and has the bell pendant at Loop's (oddly pushy) suggestion.

Isabeau: Taking it. Badly. Depression mullet and beard in tow. However, you best believe he is trying real badly to hide it. Loop very much does not reveal their identity to him because What The Fuck Would That Even Do. That's Scary. but they do try to comfort him while mentally regarding him "off limits". Backs themselves into some very unfortunate corners by alluding to their unfulfilled relationship with their Fighter as a point of common ground. I don't imagine this would go super great when recontextualised later after Loop is inevitably found out. Just in general oh good god what the fuck. this is like a radioactive pit of survivor's guilt.

Bonnie: Taking it probably The Worst. This is a child. Who was already feeling guilt. This is who everyone else is trying to keep it together for. Mirabelle and Isabeau would likely be putting up far less of a front without Bonnie around. They take the hat and take on Pocket Duty. They also have slightly more sif-y hairstyle but... Don't worry about it. They'd have Nille to fall back on once she's picked back up, and Loop almost certainly attempts to redouble efforts on making them feel better but seeing as how closed-off Bonnie can already be, it'd likely be difficult. However they would probably take Loop's identity reveal best...?

Odile: Odile's design.... ! Does not seem to have changed? How odd! Well. I'm sure she's dealing with things in a regular and non-cloistered manner. I already think that a regular Postcanon Activity for Odile could be her finding out about the potential for sif/loop to translate books and thus Knowledge in their native tongue assuming that ability sticks around postgame. Something something culture can never truly be wiped out etc etc. But putting it in this context. Makes it more desperate, more of a deflection for something else.

Loop: Helpful Loop. Well. They win! I feel like the entirety of ISAT being about Siffrin's mental state means I don't need to spill much ink here? You get it I think. I can't outdo the source material man. Anyway I imagine Loop is given clothes by Isabeau before they know who they are, but after they've become genuine friends. The outfit is in genuineness, on both sides from Loop and Isa, in having the cloak be a nod in respect to Siffrin, since Loop's "shared culture" would have to come up vis a vis cultural funerary traditions. Hard to avoid divulging that one...

[ellievickstar]

Sinner's Sacrifice

A/N: Here's part 2 of Bloodied Bonds , i'm going for alliteration in the title hahah. it's a lot shorter than the first part i wish i made it longer but i feel like i was stretching it out i know i know it sucks to wait for parts i really wanted it to only be two parts long but i really had a "my story has it's own ideas" moment T^T. I'm so so sorry towards anyone who thought this would be the last part I can assure you I thought that too. I hope you enjoy <3

Summary: As Azriel struggles to navigate a situation where he could lose you no matter what he chooses, take a look into his own heart.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying, self-sacrificing thoughts

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Azriel had lost count of how many hours it had been since he had threatened to eventually murder Elain.

And he was losing damned mind.

Every single day he had sat in the chair beside your sleeping form….you were breathing, which was an improvement from the heaving and choking in your sleep that alarmed Madja enough to order the inner circle to start taking turns watching over you. Madja believed that your condition improved because he was finally turning away from Elain, but that was what the bond sensed. Without your mind, your own belief to ensure your heart, your condition was bound to deteriorate again.

And yet you could not wake up so he could explain.

So he could apologise.

So he could beg for your forgiveness.

Everyday without making the decision to let Madja just remove the roots of the flowers seemed like a gamble, but after what had been discovered, what Cassian had caught Elain doing, the entire inner circle was not sure if it would be better to let your relationship go, or let you go.

Both scenarios, Azriel would lose.

In both situations, Azriel would lose you forever and a part of him felt like maybe he deserved it. If you ever woke up, ever wanted revenge to make him feel guilty for what had been done, regardless the fact that it had been out of his control, you would have gotten it in spades when he realised that his ignorance, his belief that he could help just one more person, his blindness to the Elain’s darkness, had caused him a situation that would cost him no matter what he did.

And in that, all he could do daily was hold your hand, and weep.

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“Go shower Azriel. It’s been three days,” Cassian said softly. The shadowsinger merely moved his head to gaze at his friend who leaned against the door frame. Not out of habit but because he genuinely needed the support. Azriel saw the eyebags under Cassian’s eyes, his tired exhausted expression not far from the one Azriel wore.

When Azriel simply shook his head, bringing his gaze back to his mate, not wanting to move another muscle, Cassian groaned.

“Azriel she won’t die within the time it takes you to take a quick bath, please, you need it,” However, Azriel once again did not move, this time not even deigning Cassian a response. The latter simply sighed before making his way towards Rhys’s office, pushing the door open to see Rhysand surrounded by various books, piles of them in the corner, some of them discarded with pages torn out.

“Rhys…?” Cassian knocked on the slightly ajar door.

Violet eyes met Cassian’s hazel ones and Rhys simply let out a breath before standing, checking the time by glancing at the window behind him, “Ah…it’s dark….I did not notice,” He simply stated awkwardly, moving to gather up some of the books from his desk, no doubt to bring it with him to his and Feyre’s room to further study until the waking hours of the next morning.

It broke Cassian’s heart to see his brothers in such a state.

Broke his own heart to see you lying there completely unconscious, every few days needing Madja to extract flowers from your throat.

The women of the house had isolated themselves to their own rooms. Mor came to your room every few hours to check on you however she stayed in her room surrounded by a similar book pile as Rhys, trying to consult her own oracles of truth to see if they had any answers. Amren had gone over to the summer court with Varian to see if they had any records that the Night Court did not, Nesta looked through the libraries with the priestesses, passing anything she found that may be useful to Feyre who scanned through them.

All this and nothing.

They had come up short.

Contacting Thesan, Helion, even Tamlin to see if there was any connections of the disease to the spring court, had come to nothing. No answers. No solutions.

Finally, as Cassian rounded the corner of the house he entered the room they had been keeping Elain in. There she was chained to the ground staring at the wall. For a moment Cassian would have felt bad for how hollow she looked, however his guilt was quickly swallowed by the anger he felt for what she had done to cause your current state.

“I see how you can help her…” Elain suddenly said, her eyes flitting to Cassian, “When minds connect, when you travel through souls,” She hummed before continuing to fiddle with the hem of her dress. Her cheeks were sunken in and hollow, her eyes now held a sharp and piercing stare instead of the soft glint. For once, Elain Archeron’s true colours were on full display.

At her words however, Cassian froze, his tone dropping to a dangerous timbre, “Do you know how to save Y/N,” Elain hummed, “I’ll tell you….for a price.”

“Do you really think that you are in a position to bargain?”

“She’s running out of time isn’t she?”

Cassian bit down on his tongue, hard. Storming out of the room he slammed the door shut, letting out a pained and frustrated roar.

Elain knew. Or at least there was a possibility that she knew. However, her calm demeanour and unflinching attitude showed Cassian no signs of lies. She knew how to save you but she wanted something out of it.

With a silent prayer, Cassian swore to himself he’d find the way to save you even if he had to pry it out of the memories in Elain’s dead body.

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“So she knows how to save my sister,” Rhys confirmed, Cassian nodded, “That’s what she claims. If she’s lying then she’s damned good at it, however she’s suggesting a bargain, I didn’t pry into the details she was thinking of.”

Not without Rhysand himself present.

Not without Azriel.

The three brothers looked at each other, Azriel’s hand was holding yours, had been holding yours since Rhysand and Cassian had come into the room saying that they had something to discuss.

“We should ask her what she wants,” Azriel muttered softly, his voice hoarse and raspy from not using it for a while.

“And if she asks for your hand?” Cassian challenged, “Then we’ll find a way to break the bargain like how Feyre and Rhysand did, but for now our focus is to save her.”

It was then Rhysand recognised his brother for once after all this time, the shadow singer who would do anything to keep you safe, the self-sacrificing spy master who would sacrifice himself, his choices just to save you.

“Let’s go then,” Rhysand concluded, standing from his stool, Cassian pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and Azriel graced the back of your hand with a soft kiss before standing, casting you one last glance before following his brothers out. Nesta replaced Azriel’s position on the stool, promising the shadow singer to keep watch of you until he returned.

Following his brothers down the hallway, Azriel’s mind flooded with memories of sneaking down these halls to get away with you, memories of coming home and seeing you in the hallway, collapsing into your loving arms. Thoughts of your love and you consumed him and he shuddered under the weight of his own grief.

He could not lose you.

He would not lose you.

And so as Azriel stepped into the room of Elain’s captivity, levelling her with a glare, inside Azriel knew that he would sacrifice anything just to hold you.

Part 3 is here!!

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A/N: please reply if you want to be tagged in part 3 people tagged in part 2 will not be tagged again in part 3 unless they ask in replies. Thank you <3

Azriel taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl @helloworlditsmesblo (please ask if you want to be added to AZRIEL'S taglist - this is NOT the same as part 3 taglist)

[slu7formen]

Girl first of all I want to say that I'm OBSESSED with your writing I love it.

Second of all I would like to make a request about Luke so hear me out.

Luke and reader were in a relationship before he betrayed camp and they were head over heals for each other and then he stole the bolt and when Percy discovers he's the thief the reader is there feeling betrayed and specially heartbroken even though Luke ask her to go with him but she doesn't accept it because she's so loyal to camp and her friends.

Time passed and even if she wants to hate Luke she loves him more than anything. And Luke loves her too so instead of asking Annabeth to escape with him he asks reader and she accepts.

I want to see everything in here fluff, angst, everything you think about.

I hope you like this request and make it real for me because I've been having this idea for over a week.

Okay but I feel so bad ‘cause I totally forgot I had this story FULLY WRITTEN and READY to be published (‘cause I LOVED it), I’m so sorry angel, made you wait a lot more than just a week 🥺, but thanks for reading my stories <3

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: luke´s a traitor, betrayal, use of yn, swearing, kinda angst (?, KISSING, lil book spoiler

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The crackle and pop of the bonfire filled the air, a comforting contrast to the vibrant bursts of color exploding overhead. The annual fireworks display was in full swing, casting shadows on the faces of your friends huddled around the warm flames. It was a picture of peace, a moment of respite amidst the constant threat of monsters demigod drama.

You stole a glance at the empty space beside you. Luke, your boyfriend, had told you he'd just be back in a minute. A few minutes had turned into an eternity, but you chalked it up to his usual impulsiveness. He'd be back any minute, with his signature smile and an arm wrapped around you.

You knew it.

From the moment you met, you and Luke had been inseparable. You were his confidante, his anchor in the chaos of being a demigod and his messy life. He was your rock, always there to make you laugh, to understand the weight of your heritage in a way no one else could.

The warmth of the fire danced on your skin, but a shiver snaked down your spine. Something felt off. The chatter of your friends seemed muted, replaced by a dull ache in your chest. You couldn’t deny the way you noticed how Luke has been acting lately. So weird and distant towards you the last couple days. You loved him, fiercely and unconditionally. You'd been there for him through thick and thin, especially after his quest left a jagged scar across his cheek and a hollowness in his eyes.

But then he suddenly just, snapped.

A memory surfaced in you , sharp and unwelcome. It had been months ago, a conversation in the darkness of his cabin in a particular cold night. Luke, his eyes filled with a desperate fervor, had confessed his anger towards the gods, his belief that they were cruel and neglectful parents. He'd spoken of tricking the Olympians, joining forces with the Titans to fight for a better life for all demigods.

The anger in his voice, the glint of rebellion in his eyes, had scared you. The scar on his face, a reminder of his failed quest, seemed to burn brighter that night.

You understood his anger. The gods were far from perfect, their neglect and cruelty evident in countless demigod lives. He'd begged you to join him, his voice filled with a desperate hope. But you'd refused, your loyalty to Camp Half-Blood and your friends unwavering. You had spent hours talking him through it as you held his hand, reminding him of all the good the gods had done, no matter how flawed they might be. He'd looked lost at the time, seeking comfort in your touch. You'd thought you'd reached him, extinguished that spark of rebellion.

You really believed that conversation was long forgotten. But there was a reason why you remembered it.

Some movement at the edge of the woods caught your eye. But it wasn't the boy you were expecting. Percy, his face pale and etched with worry, practically stumbled into the fireplace, his chest heaving and his grip tight on Riptide.

A pang of concern shot through you. "Percy?" you called out, concern lacing your voice. You pushed yourself off the ground, walking towards him. "What happened? Where's Luke?"

Percy hesitated, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions. Shit, should he tell you? His silence was a hammer blow to your gut. You knew, with a chilling certainty, that something was terribly wrong.

"What?" you choked out, the question barely a whisper, expecting some kind of answer from the blonde boy, but nothing came from his trembling lips. The air felt dense, with a truth you desperately wanted to deny. You saw Luke getting into the woods with Percy, you saw it. And now, he was nowhere to be seen.

Then, it clicked. A cold, horrifying truth began to dawn on you.

He lied.

Without a word, you pushed Percy aside and started running, towards the woods. Your heart hammered against your ribs, like a trapped bird desperate to escape. You plunged into the darkness of the forest, the path you'd walked countless times with Luke now leading you into the unknown.

"Luke!" you screamed, your voice raw with anger and despair. You wove through the trees, the undergrowth tearing at your camp shirt, but you didn't care. You had to find him, to confront him, to understand why he'd chosen this path, if he chose it, why he'd lied to you.

But with each passing minute, hope crashed over you. The forest grew denser, the silence broken only by the rustle of leaves and the frantic beat of your own heart. There was no sign of Luke, no echo of his footsteps, no smell, no sense of his presence, only the chilling truth hanging heavy in the air.

He was gone.

He had left.

You sank to your knees, the weight of betrayal crushing you as the first tears you ever cried for Luke Castellan, started to fall. The man you loved, the person you'd trusted with your life, had chosen darkness over everything you held dear. He had chosen Kronos over you.

Grief, a cold and relentless serpent, coiled around your heart. And that feeling never seemed to leave.

The year that followed was a blur of sadness and a desperate attempt at normalcy. The silence from Luke was deafening. Not a single Iris-message, not a single sign of the one who once, was your boyfriend.

You knew you wouldn´t be able to return to Camp, at least not for now. Every corner held a ghost of Luke's smile, every sword clang a reminder of his battles and his betrayal. Your friends, the true ones, bless their hearts, tried everything to cheer you up from a distance, but their efforts felt like trying to pick up the pieces of a broken glass in the sea.

You opted to stay home that summer. But even there, away from the prying eyes and hushed whispers, escape from Luke's betrayal seemed impossible. Messages and news found you no matter where you hid. News of Luke leading a rogue army aboard a stolen cruise ship, rumors of him serving as Kronos's right hand while the Titan slumbered – it all reached your ears.

The nights were the worst. The darkness mirrored the hollowness within you. Tears would stain your pillow as you relived the events leading up to his betrayal. You once seemed to dream about seeing him again, and now you only screamed when you saw his face in your nightmares.

The memory of his touch, the warmth of his smile, the nights you spent loving each other with the sheets tangling in your legs, all felt like cruel illusions now. Yet, a part of you, a stubborn, illogical part, still clung to the love you once shared.

And Gods, did you try to keep yourself as busy as possible. You threw yourself into your studies and little courses here and there, seeking solace in facts and logic. You even began working, a boring but well payed summer job. Yet, the pain lingered, a dull ache that refused to subside.

The more you tried to banish these visions, the more vivid they became. You missed him like a starving man craved a feast, a yearning that gnawed at your insides and threatened to consume you. Frustration gnawed at you. How could you still love someone who'd betrayed you so utterly? How could your heart still ache for a man who chose war over you? The questions echoed endlessly within you, a relentless chorus fueling your self-conscious.

How could you be so weak?

These consuming questions were your companions for a whole year. But as the second summer after Luke's betrayal rolled around, a shift occurred within you. The raw, agonizing pain began to dull, replaced by a quiet resolve.

Finally, you decided it was time to take back control again. Camp Half-Blood called, a familiar haven among the storm. You returned a changed person. The vibrant smile that once adorned your face was a ghost, replaced by a guarded expression that spoke about the pain you harbored in silence. The camp's familiar energy felt hollow, a constant reminder of the happiness you'd lost.

Training became your sole solace. You'd disappear into the arena for hours, your celestial bronze sword a blur as you cleaved through training dummies, each swing fueled by a potent cocktail of grief and anger.

Exhaustion became your closest companion too. You pushed yourself to the limits of your endurance, hoping to find oblivion at the bottom of an empty fuel tank. But sleep, when it finally came, offered no escape. You'd dream of him, leading his army of rogue demigods, his eyes filled with a fanatical zeal that chilled you to the bone. And in those dreams, you'd see yourself, standing beside him, not out of loyalty to his cause, but out of a desperate yearning for the boy you once loved, still love.

In the quiet moments, when your friends weren't around, the dam would break. You'd collapse onto your cool and empty bed, tears streaming down your face, a raw, primal sob escaping your lips. The memory of Luke was no joy anymore, it haunted you like a specter.

You hated yourself for the traitorous flicker in your heart, the desperate, illogical yearning for him. It wasn't the war that tempted you; it was him.

You hated how much you missed him.

The scent of rain clung to the humid night air and to you like a second skin as you zipped up your duffel bag. Another summer at Camp Half-Blood loomed, promising a bittersweet mix of nostalgia and pain, but more training. The worst was yet to come, so you needed to be ready.

New York City, with its cacophony of car horns and the anonymity of millions, had become your refuge these past few months. In Manhattan, the memories of Luke seemed to hold less power for some weird reason, their edges dulling with the passage of time. You'd spent the past months in this tiny apartment, the silence deafening compared to the constant hum of life at camp.

Just then, a sharp rap on the door shattered the silence of your apartment. It was past midnight, an unusual time for visitors.

Adrenaline surged through you. Months of living fully alone had honed your senses. You'd become acutely aware of the city's underbelly – the flickering shadows that could hide monsters thanks to the ever-present mist. You'd seen them stalking the streets, stalking you, their true forms hidden to them mortals, an unsettling feeling crawling up your spine whenever their paths crossed yours. They never attacked, but their chilling presence followed you like a phantom.

Grabbing your necklace, you asked, "Yes?"

Silence. You weren't taking any chances. Pulling down at the pendant once, the necklace morphed into your celestial bronze dagger.

You took a step, two. Could it really be a monster? Could it really be some creature trying to get to you, by knocking on the door? With a shaky breath, you cracked the door open just enough to peek through the gap, hiding the dagger behind your back.

The sight that greeted you stole the air from your lungs.

Standing on your doorstep, bathed in the harsh glow of the hallway light, was Luke. His dark hair was windswept, his face etched with a gauntness that hadn't been there before, but his eyes – those were the same eyes that had haunted your dreams for months. They held a desperate plea, a flicker of the boy you once loved struggling to break through the hardened shell of the man he'd become.

“Luke?”

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words and a tangled web of emotions. Time seemed to warp in that hallway, a single moment stretched into an eternity. Luke looked different, yes. The carefree boy you knew had been replaced by a man hardened by experience, his features etched with lines that spoke of battles fought and burdens carried. But his eyes, those brown eyes that had once held a mischievous twinkle, now held a deeper sadness that mirrored your own.

"Hi" Luke finally said, his voice raspy.

You stood speechless, the dagger still clutched tightly in your hand. Years of longing warred with the fresh wounds of betrayal. You wanted to scream at him, to unleash the torrent of hurt and anger that suddenly washed over you. But something held you back, a flicker of curiosity, maybe.

"Um, can I come in?" he continued, his posture pleading despite his attempt at nonchalance.

Jesus. Was that all he had to say? After everything, after what he did, all he could muster was a request to enter your apartment? A tide of anger threatened to drown you. Did he not understand the gravity of what he'd done? Did he not realize the pain he'd caused? But you forced your thoughts down. You weren't a child anymore, throwing tantrums wouldn't solve anything.

"Are you armed?" you asked, your voice flat, devoid of any warmth.

Luke flinched at your question, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "You think I wanna hurt you?" he countered, his tone defensive.

"Last time I saw you," you spat back, your voice laced with bitterness, "was three years ago, and I know your little monsters are keeping an eye on me. The first thing I'm supposed to think about is whether you want to hurt me or not."

He sighed, a long, weary exhale. Unzipping his jacket, he turned slowly, patting down his pockets before turning back to you. His eyes, once alive with mischief and love, were now filled with a desperate sincerity. "See? No weapons. Just me."

You studied him, a battle raging within you. One part of you wanted to slam the door, to let him know that he wasn't welcome. Yet, another part, a smaller, more vulnerable part, couldn't help but cling to the flicker of hope that flickered amongst the ashes of your love.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you stepped aside, allowing a sliver of space for him to enter. "Fine" you said, your voice devoid of warmth. "But you better have a good reason to come here"

Luke hesitated for a beat before stepping inside. He closed the door softly behind him, the sound echoing through the tense silence. He stood there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, his eyes scanning the room, landing finally on the packed bags besides the tv.

"You're heading back to camp?" he asked.

You flipped the dagger in your hand, and the celestial bronze morphed back into the golden necklace. "What do you want?" you repeated, your voice still sharp, a shield against the emotions swirling within you.

Luke stood awkwardly in the doorway, the once carefree boy replaced by a man burdened by the weight of his choices. His leather jacket seemed to hang heavy on his broad shoulders.

"I…" he started, then stopped, seemingly unsure how to proceed. He cleared his throat, the sound scratchy and unfamiliar. "You look different" he finally managed, the words tumbling out awkwardly.

You scoffed, a humorless sound that surprised even you.

"Look, yn" he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper, "I wanna talk, okay? I know what I did was wrong. I know I hurt you."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "You could say that again."

His fingers twitched at your bitterness, but pressed on. "I came here because..." He hesitated again, seemingly wrestling with an inner turmoil. "Because I-"

Frustration bubbled up within you. This cryptic approach, this lack of honesty, it was infuriating. "Because you what, Luke?" you demanded, your voice laced with a sharp edge. "Because you decided to grace me with your presence after leading a rebellion against the gods? Or maybe because you just wanted to see if I'm still waiting for you?"

You watched his face harden, the vulnerability replaced by a familiar defiance.

"Don't twist this" he snapped, his voice firm. "I came here because..." He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. "Because I miss you, yn. I miss us."

The air crackled with a tension so thick you could almost taste it.

You took a slow step towards him, then another. He took notes of yourself as you did. The way you had grown internally was so intense that he could sense it everywhere. He might have betrayed you, but that only helped you get on your feet stronger, grow stronger. Become the warrior he always knew you were.

Then, in a move as instinctive as it was fierce, your hand lashed out. The slap connected with a stinging crack, the sound echoing through the apartment like a thunderclap. Luke's head snapped to the side, a crimson handprint blooming on his cheek. Shame flickered in his eyes as he scoffed, quickly replaced by a dull acceptance.

He deserved it, that much was clear.

"How dare you?” you spat, your voice shaking with barely controlled fury, "How fucking dare you come back here after what you've done? After leading a rebellion against the gods, after putting everyone we care about at risk? After betraying me?"

Luke took a shaky breath, running a hand over the burning mark on his face. "I'm sorry” he said, his voice low and ragged. "I'm so sorry. I know I hurt you, and I know a simple apology won't erase the pain or fix things. But you have to believe me, I never meant for things to get this bad"

He stepped towards you, his hands outstretched in a placating gesture, but you flinched back, the space between you a tangible barrier. "Don't touch me" you warned, your voice laced with ice.

He lowered his hands, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I know you hate me for what I´ve done. For joining Kronos, I-“

"You think this is all about Kronos?" you cut him off, your voice shaking with barely contained fury. "You think the reason my heart has been broken these past years is because you joined a fucking Titan?"

Luke remained silent, the weight of your words pressing down on him like a collapsing mountain. He knew better.

"This is about what you did to me, Luke" you choked out, tears welling in your eyes. "I was with you, all the time. I was your girlfriend! And you betrayed me. You left me alone” your voice broke so hard that you had to take a second to swallow the big gulp that was forming in your throat. “Everyone at camp looked at me after what you did," you choked out. "They either felt sorry for me, or they insulted me, saying that I was still loyal to you, that I was a traitor."

You closed your eyes for a moment, the pain etched on your face a stark reminder of the devastation he'd wrought. "You were the most important person in my life" you cried, your voice raw and vulnerable. "But you? You let Kronos fill your head with empty promises, and just like that, you forgot about us."

The truth felt like a bitter pill to swallow. He opened his mouth to speak.

"I asked you to come with me" he finally whispered, his voice thick with regret. "I gave you the chance to leave with me."

"And even after I said no," you countered, your voice trembling like the finger that was now pointing at his chest, "you still left. You threw me away like shit. And do you know what the worst part is?" Tears streamed down your face, tracing a path through the dust of old heartache. "That as much as I try, I can't seem to hate you."

A sob escaped your lips, shattering the fragile dam you'd built around your emotions. "I still love you, Luke" you confessed. "Even though it's a love that fills me with pain, it's still there. I hate myself because I dream about you, about the way things used to be. But when I don't, I feel like a piece of me is missing."

You looked up at him, your eyes brimming with tears and a raw vulnerability that left Luke speechless.

What had he done?

"I hate myself because I can't help but pray for your safety, even though you never seemed to care about mine. I hate myself because even after everything, I still love you, Luke."

Your heart felt like a shattered kaleidoscope, a million shards of love, anger, and pain reflecting back at you in a distorted reality. You walked and sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as sobs racked your body.

Luke, his heart heavy with a remorse sharper than any weapon, watched you crumble. The carefree girl he fell in love with was gone, replaced by a woman etched with the scars of his own actions. Hesitantly, he reached out, placing a hand on your back as he sat down next to you, a gesture of comfort that felt more like a branding iron on his guilt.

"yn” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "I still love you too."

You didn't respond, the sobs coming in ragged gasps as your body struggled to contain the storm within.

"I know I left you" he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "And you didn't deserve it. But… I was so lost, so angry. Kronos promised me power, a solution to all the problems I saw. He convinced me that Olympus was corrupt, that the gods didn't care about half-bloods like us. And when you said no, he-, he told me to leave you behind, said that it would be easier for everyone…"

His voice trailed off. Easier for who? Easier for him, perhaps, to sever the ties that bound him, to plunge headfirst into a rebellion fueled by manipulated ideals.

"But it wasn't" he choked out, a tear escaping his eye, carving a glistening path down his cheek. "Every day, every step I took… it was a constant reminder of what I'd lost. The guilt was eating me alive, yn, you have to believe me”. His hands desperately reached for yours, trying to get your fingers to intertwine by placing his over yours.

Tears welled up in his own eyes. "I regret everything. I mean it. I don't want to do this anymore."

You finally lifted your head, your eyes red-rimmed and brimming with unshed tears. Luke looked different to you now, the bravado and arrogance gone, replaced by a vulnerability that mirrored your own.

"Don't want to do what?" you asked, your voice hoarse.

"This” he gestured vaguely to himself, but you didn’t quite catch it. "Following Kronos. Helping him rise to power. It's wrong. I can see that now."

“Little late to that, isn’t it?” you blurted out.

He took a deep breath, his expression resolute. "yn, there's a reason I came to you. A reason I risked Kronos' trust in me." He paused, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Kronos wants me to become his host."

And the world seemed to suddenly stop. You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. Your mind raced, trying to process what he had just said. Luke, your Luke, becoming a vessel for the monstrous Titan?

"What?" you croaked, fear coating your voice like frost. Your eyes darted around, searching for a way out, a solution, anything. But Luke wouldn't meet your gaze, his jaw clenched tight, a storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. "No. No, he can't. It's not possible."

The thought of him, Luke, being consumed by Kronos, twisted your insides into knots.

Luke, however, seemed to gather his resolve. "Yes, it is" he said, his voice low and strained. "There are things you don't know, yn. Things I've done."

A cold dread gripped your stomach, a physical manifestation of the terror that clawed at your insides. Your mind raced, desperate for answers. "Then tell me" you only managed to say. "Luke, what have you done?"

He hesitated, looking around as if afraid someone might be listening. "There's no time now" he finally said, his voice tight with urgency. "But I promise I will explain everything. That's not why I'm here."

Taking a deep breath, he dared to reach out, his hand gently grasping yours, finally. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you, a stark contrast to the chilling fear that gripped you.

He called your name, his voice softening. "Come with me" he said.

You only feel capable of frowning your brows in confusion. "Go where?" you asked, your voice wary.

"Anywhere" he said, like a plea. "Let's run away, together. It can be just you and me again"

He leaned closer, the air around him crackling with a tension that mirrored the storm within you. As his forehead rested against yours, a jolt of electricity shot through you. It was a familiar warmth, a spark that had ignited countless stolen kisses and whispered secrets back when your world wasn't teetering on the brink of war. His other hand cupped your cheek, the touch a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you. His hand, usually warm and comforting, felt cool against your burning skin, a physical reminder of the distance that had grown between you. Yet, despite the chill, a wave of longing washed over you, a yearning for the simple comfort of his touch.

But reason tugged at you, a voice of caution in the midst of the storm. "But Luke," you stammered, pulling away slightly, "If you escape, Kronos will come for you. He'll come for us, and-,"

"I don't care" he interrupted, his voice resolute, yet laced with a tremor that betrayed his bravado. It was as if he was on the precipice, teetering between defiance and the vulnerability of a man on the verge of breaking. "I'll fight everything that comes for us. And if the war happens... I'll fight. I'll fight for everyone, I’ll fight for you. I'm not losing you again, yn."

His words resonated deep within you, a desperate echo of the love you still harbored for him, a love you thought you'd buried beneath layers of anger and sadness. You saw the fear in his eyes, a fear that you sadly shared, but beneath it, a flicker of something else – a raw, desperate hope. And as you looked at him, a wave of relief washed over you.

The relief of knowing he wasn't entirely lost, that a part of the Luke you loved still existed.

"I love you" he confessed again, his voice trembling.

Looking into his eyes, a storm of emotions swirling within them, the truth resonated with you. "I love you too" you whispered, the words tumbling from your lips like a long-awaited confession.

The world did indeed, stop. The rain, a relentless symphony against the window pane, faded into a distant murmur. The thunders became a muffled echo. In that moment, the only reality was the space between you and Luke, charged with the unspoken electricity of your confessions.

He leaned in further, a hesitant question in his eyes. A flicker of fear danced in their depths, a scared boy seeking forgiveness beneath the warrior's facade. You watched him, a bittersweet ache blooming in your chest.

With a sigh that trembled on your lips, you closed the distance. Your lips met in a hesitant touch, a tentative exploration of a forgotten familiarity. Three years of longing, of unspoken words and simmering emotions, poured into that kiss. It was sweeter than you'd dared to imagine, a warmth that spread from your lips and drizzled down your chest.

Unlike the passionate encounters of your past, this felt different; like kissing him for the first time. Luke's lips moved against yours with a reverence that sent shivers down your spine. He held back, his desperate desire tempered with a respect that surprised you. You knew him.

But then, you yielded. Your lips parted, a silent invitation, and his tongue met yours in a dance as old as time. A full, heavy and angry thunderclap erupted outside, a jarring contrast to the intimacy unfolding on the couch. But you paid it no mind, lost in the whirlpool of rediscovered affection.

Your arms encircled his neck, a desperate hold. He, in turn, cupped your waist, his touch lingering on the curve of your hip as he gently lowered you onto the soft cushion. His body hovered above yours. His lips, however, remained glued to yours, a relentless exploration that spoke of a love both fierce and fragile.

The kiss deepened, a slow burn that threatened to consume you both. You felt the familiar rhythm of his heart against yours, a counterpoint to the frantic beat of your own. It was a melody of second chances, of unspoken apologies and nascent hope.

His hand trailed down your back, teasingly brushing under your shirt, sending shivers dancing across your skin. You arched into his touch, a wordless plea for more. But just then, he pulled away, his breath ragged, his eyes a storm of conflicting emotions.

His voice, a husky murmur against your skin, sent shivers down your spine. "I missed this so much," he whispered, his lips trailing down the delicate column of your neck and the dip of your collarbone. His warm breath mingled with your own, a heady mix of emotions swirling around you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, the familiar texture a stark reminder of the past you both desperately clung to. He reached for your pulse, slowly sucking in before letting it pop.

"I wanted to feel you every night" he confessed. "Every night, I dreamt of you." His words were a stark contrast to the cold, distant Luke you saw in your dreams, the only vivid memory you’ve had of him the past years.

"Luke" you whispered, your voice barely audible as you tried to speak.

He didn't stop. His hand drifted down your torso, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your lower tummy. Every touch felt like a brand, a searing reminder of what you had lost and the uncertainty that lay ahead.

"It was a mistake" he said, his voice thick with regret. "A big, fucking mistake. Leaving you, betraying you-, it was the biggest mistake of my life. My life doesn't make any sense without you."

With a strangled sound, Luke deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own. You clung to him, a drowning sailor grasping at a lifeline. The scent of leather that clung to him was intoxicating, a familiar anchor in this storm of emotions.

"Luke" you managed to gasp between kisses, a flicker of reason breaking through the haze of desire. You needed more than just words, needed a binding promise, something concrete to hold onto if you were to take this leap of faith.

He stared at you, his eyes a storm of emotions – desire, confusion, and a flicker of something that might have been annoyance. But before he could respond, you pressed on.

"Swear on it, Luke" you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "Swear on the River Styx” you repeat. Luke’s eyes dart back and forth, from your lips, to your eyes, to filling up with confusion. “I’m not-,” you cut yourself off as you feel your eyes filling with tears again. You bit your tongue before speaking, “I’m not letting you hurt me like this again"

You knew it was selfish, a desperate attempt to safeguard your heart. But Luke was here, finally, after all this time. You craved the warmth of his touch, the comfort of his presence. The thought of letting him go again, of enduring another betrayal, was unbearable. Yet, a part of you, still scarred from the past, craved a guarantee, an oath sworn on the most powerful river in the Underworld. It was dangerous, yes, but did you care?

Did he care?

Luke's expression hardened. The River Styx, held a weight that couldn't be ignored. The river he already bathed himself in. It was a binding vow, a promise etched in the very fabric of existence.

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a flicker of doubt, a hint of manipulation. But all he saw was the vulnerability, the fear – a vulnerability born from the scars he himself had inflicted.

"I swear on the River Styx" he said, his voice low and solemn, each word heavy with the weight of the oath. "I swear I won’t ever leave you. I swear I love you. I swear I'll fight for you, for us, with every breath in my lungs."

[kittenintheden]

*dumps her random characterization and voice notes into your lap* here hope this helps

- Astarion speaks a little bit like a man removed from time and a little bit like an Upper City patriar, but not excessively so and not as a rule. Posh and embellished, but not completely avoidant of slang or casual swearing. Like a person who was once in a certain position in life, was ripped from it, and then spent a very long time in survival mode among people of lesser station/education. His mouth is often ahead of his brain. Many of his pricklier interactions are a direct result of trauma response. He longs to be in control, of his circumstances and of himself. His terms of endearment make subtle shifts from insincere and condescending to genuine and affectionate. When he feels threatened, he becomes distant and detached. He's funny, in both an awkward unintentional way and a very intentional witty way. He walks a razor's edge between a person who relies on his charms and an animal in a cage.

- Wyll is a deeply idealistic noble raised on tales of good knights and mighty heroes. His father was a soldier first, a noble second, and instilled in him a rigid moral code and high expectations for leadership. Those teachings led him to make a life-altering choice at seventeen years old that he was resoundly punished for due to manipulation and misunderstanding. Instead of becoming embittered, he cemented his dedication to his ideals and holds on to a sense of failure. He's eloquent and learned, with an abiding sense of chivalry and propriety. He's young, but not completely naive -- he has a firm personal code, but it's not immutable. Much of his conversation comes from stories he's heard or read that resonated with him. He is charismatic, friendly, and wants to believe in goodness. He's not above a cringe-worthy pun that he likely picked up from being around common folk.

- Lae'zel thinks non-githyanki beneath her, at least at first. Common is her second language and one she doesn't hold a lot of respect for -- she uses it to communicate and that's it. Her words are economic and blunt, but have a rich current of culture underneath. She is a soldier, but she is learned in the lore and ways of her people, and very proud of it. She does not deal in metaphor or hedging her opinions. She trusts her leadership and her queen implicitly. Her word is the truth (to her).

- Shadowheart is deeply mistrustful of people outside her cloister/belief system, which comes off as distance or aloofness. Her specific memories have been altered or removed, but all her core experiences and dedication remain. She's been raised in an environment that is very cult-like and spreads the idea that anyone unlike them is probably an enemy. Nothing is more important than proving herself to her parent-figure. Even so, she wants to connect. She wants to trust. Her communication is guarded and emotionally detached, until it isn't.

- Gale is extremely intelligent, but he's been removed from interacting with everyday people for a long time. His terminology tends to default to his book learning, which can come off as superiority. He has Gifted Kid Syndrome -- literally Chosen for his ability and knowledge, and experiencing a deep sense of, "Who am I if I'm not Chosen? What is my greater calling now?" He's used to his voice mattering, his expertise respected, but also internalized a sense of guilt and shame. He can err toward arrogance, but it comes from a place of wanting to make things better.

- Karlach was an Outer City street kid with what sounded like a reasonably happy home life and she ended up in the employ of a charming young entrepreneur who she completely trusted as hired muscle. That man betrayed her in an incredibly horrific way that she didn't see coming -- not because she's a fool, but because she wants to love people and he tricked her into loving him. She's spent a decade terribly lonely and literally untouchable by anyone but fire-immune fiends. She's cheery and optimistic, but it's largely a front to hide her hurt and sadness. Being a fighter is who she is, not only what she was forced to do. She believes her value is in her physical strength because she has no formal education or skills (she thinks). Her speech is casual, full of slang, blunt, crass, almost childlike (but she is NOT a child -- important distinction). There's a darkness in her she doesn't want to face, so she hides behind humor and affection. Still, when she loves, it is completely in earnest.

[asliceofzosan]

because i woke up today still thinking of zosan's baby girl, here are some stuff about it that are now my roman empire:

none. i repeat NONE OF THESE STRAW HATS know how to hold a baby. sanji figured it out due to dormant maternal instincts alone. and more than half the time he has to yell at everyone to not hold her up by the calf or the ankles ("i'm looking at you luffy please for the love of the all blue do NOT gum gum whip her around like a toy—")

unlike both her dads, ayari is actually being extremely picky with food in the beginning. she hates certain textures and cries like its the end of the world when her baby food isn't heated to the right temperature. funnily enough, one of the few times she ate something she didn't want is if chopper is next to her eating the same thing and telling her its yummy. dw none of the baby food goes to waste. they're all re-used somehow in the week's menu. or zoro just ends up eating it.

ussop made a lil wrap around cloth for ayari so that sanji could cook while carrying her hands free. or zoro could have her strapped onto his back and nap while he does pushups.

robin could be seen reading books to ayari when both zoro and sanji are out cold and exhausted from being first time parents. one or both of them would wake up to find robin telling little ayari histories of the islands they visit, or the countries they've saved. she tones down some of the darker elements until she's old enough to grasp it. ayari grows up with auntie robin's love of wanting to know the world.

nami started doing her makeup with ayari on her lap. she shows all the different little products to her, letting her touch her brushes and everything. nami even "does ayari's makeup" too aka she just tickles her face with the brushes and pretends to put makeup on her so she feels like she's doing it too. when she's a little older, ayari asks sanji to join them and more often than not, sanji is making lunch with a full face of makeup done by ayari.

ayari's teething toy is a little plastic mouth sword. zoro is infinitely happy about it.

in the beginning, sanji tried to take up most of the parental responsibilities up until the point that he got too sick to even stand. he was stressed and exhausted beyond belief, actually pushing zoro away a lot. but when he collapses one day sporting a fever that was highly too reminiscent of when nami was sick after little garden, it scares him enough to finally seek zoro out for help.

and its not like zoro has not Tried to take the load off. its just that sanji was still fighting all his repressed feelings for zoro and this undue pressure hes put on himself to become a better parent than judge ever was to him. that he could raise this child with love and attention and devotion, completely forgetting that hes not the only parent.

zoro and sanji have a heartfelt talk about how the wish that was granted on that island was a blessing beyond belief. that theres a reason ayari looks like both of them. that she takes after both of them.

they both wished for this child in the deepest depths of their hearts. they wanted not just to be together but to have someone that grows up loved by them. cared for by them. not a restart or a replacement for a lost loved one like they first thought it was. but a child who sees them — zoro and sanji — and will one day wish to have a love like theirs.

oh also "luffy" is ayari's first word because zoro and sanji say it so often to stop their captain from doing dangerous shit while he's holding her. in line with that, her second word is "stop" so the first sentence she ever says is "luffy stop!"

the crew are hysterical over it. sanji stares into the void bc he wished for ayari's first word to be "dada"

he settles with the little joy of her fourth word being "marimo"

because her third word was "curly" (something he nearly strangled zoro for)

[captainsparklefingers]

One of the things I'm taking away from the second go round of Dracula Daily (and particularly from David Ault's excellent performance in Re: Dracula) is how much I like Lord Arthur Godalming.

Like. On the surface and the first time round he stands out the least of Lucy's suitors, and given how much time we hear from Jack, he can come off the most developed. Quincy, of course, gives us a heck of a lot of personality with relatively little (again, compared to how much we get from Jack). Arthur, though, doesn't have the same volume of words to develop, nor the instantly clear personality. He's just Lucy's fiancee, Jack and Quincy's friend, the heroes of light's wealthy benefactor.

But God, this poor man. He's suffered several immense losses in a very short period, been forced to see the woman he loved as a monster, and then had to put her down so she could rest in peace. Beyond the emotional burdens of such losses, he has to deal with the legal matters and the settling of affairs for three different people, probably doing whatever one needs to do to take his father's place in the House of Lords (something I know absolutely nothing about but I assume there's things to do there), AND the earth shattering revelation the supernatural is real, monsters do exist, and the one who killed Lucy is still out there.

And all of that while having to abide by the Victorian standards of manhood. Stalwart, strong, showing no emotions that could make him seem weak.

I think the scene in September 30th, where Mina comforts him and finally he has the chance to let go of all of these burdens he's felt he must carry alone, all of the grief and sorrow he's been forced to carry, he can for at least a moment put aside the mask of manliness society insist he wear and just let himself be a man who has lost his father and his fiancee within days of each other, who is dealing with situations beyond belief.

Obviously we've seen him cry and grieve before but it always felt like he was stifling it to a degree because, well. He only has his male friends to lean on now and the stupid proprieties of society mean he can only lean so much. But now he's had a chance to finally let go, made a connection with Lucy's dearest friend and a new sister of choice. He has his friends, he's finally been allowed to mourn in the way he's truly feeling...and now he's ready to help in whatever way possible to avenge Lucy.

Arthur comes off to me as a very strong character, a man driven by great love, who's emotions, as constrained as they may be, are one of his greatest strengths (and, of course, every good monster hunting group needs a financial benefactor). He's not a flat character at all, he's not forgettable character. Lucy loved him for a reason and, I think, in the moment his grief finally breaks, we get a glimpse at that.

I think that one of the good things of Dracula Daily has been making people realize how good of a character Jonathan Harker is, how pop culture has done damage to the true character of Lucy and Mina…I think we should add that its done a good job of making one care for a character as Arthur, who at first glance seems flat and boring.

Or at least it's made me appreciate him more. And I still want to know how he and Jack and Quincy became friends and what sort of shenanigans they got up to before the events of the book.

[msmoony7]

Bookshop Romance

Remus Lupin x Reader

word count: 5.65k

fluff

Note: hope you guys enjoy! i'm going to be posting this on AO3 as well if you want to check it out there too. same username as here!

The bookstore is your favorite spot in town. You just love sitting in there and reading books. And the people watching as customers come in and out is another favorite activity of yours. You’ve lived in this town for a while now, ever since you graduated from university. The town is small and was just what you were looking for at this point in your life when you decided to move away from home. Your apartment is tiny, but you loved it regardless. It’s decorated with pictures and posters and trinkets, most of which are from the thrift store in the town. Your prized possession is your record and book collection, which takes up an embarrassing amount of space in your home. You love it anyways.  

You discovered the bookshop quickly after you settled into your new home. You were on a walk exploring the town when the small sidewalk sign on the outside drew you in. Almost like it was meant to be. Since then, you’ve entered the door hundreds of times and plan on entering a hundred more. 

You got a job at the local bakery, which gave you enough money for rent and other necessities, along with spending money. You integrated nicely into your small town living. You even made friends with the workers at the bookstore due to your frequent visits.

Your visits were sporadic but regardless, you developed a routine for what your visit would look like. You start off by grabbing a coffee at the cafe inside the shop,sometimes bringing along a little treat from the bakery. Then, you sit down in the cafe area and read however long your heart desires. You’ve spent as little as twenty minutes here and as long as seven hours. You love the simplicity of your routine and you do it as often as your life allows.

Today, you enter the bookstore and make your way to your usual spot in the back. Although very few people are ever in here at the same time, you still like to be in your own little world away from everyone. You reach into your tote bag and pull out the book you’re currently reading. 

After a while of reading, you finally finish your book and your coffee. You make your way into the bookshelves to find your next read. Once in the aisles, you stumble upon a young worker putting books onto the shelves. You know every worker here by name, so you know that this is a new employee. You watch him from afar, mesmerized by his beauty. He has dark blonde hair that’s almost brown and has some curls. He’s bent over, but he looks pretty tall, and he’s wearing a brown and green striped knit sweater with brown corduroy pants and Dr. Martens. You didn’t think you believed in love at first sight but upon seeing this man, you’re rethinking your beliefs. He looks perfect and you can’t help but stare at him. You bring the strength to pull yourself away and you peruse the shelves some more before settling on a book that you’ve been meaning to read for a while and go to the register to check out.

“Hey, y/n, how’ve you been?” Lily, a worker who quickly became your best friend, asks you.

“Doin’ good, thanks. You?”

“Great,” she smiles. “Saw you eyeing up the new worker in the stacks,” she says with a teasing tone and cheeky smile.

“I was not!” you say, feeling the heat rise in your face.

“He’s cute, I don’t blame you. He’s pretty quiet, though. Keeps to himself. Too quiet for me, but perfect for you!”

“Oh god, Lil, you better shut it before he hears.”

“Oh calm down I’m just messing. He works every Saturday, though. So I expect to be seeing you here a lot more frequently.”

“Goodbye, Lily. I’ll see you soon,” you say with a laugh as you walk away.

“Every Saturday!” Lily shouts as the door is closing behind you. 

You shake your head as heat fills your cheeks once more. You haven’t been with a guy in a while and the thought of having a new crush simultaneously thrilled you and filled you with anxiety. 

You stop by the grocery store on the way home. Chicken was cheapest, so you made that for dinner along with some rice and asparagus. You love to cook, so you spend any time not at the bookstore in your kitchen. Once you finish eating, you light a fire in your fireplace and put on a record as you cozy up on your couch and begin reading the book you just bought.

—

The next few days go by slowly. The image of the cute new worker is etched in your brain and you find yourself thinking about him all the time. After what feels like years, Saturday finally comes around again and you find yourself getting ready to head to the bookstore. Your visits to the bookstore in the past were frequent but never consistent. You made your visits there around your schedule and would go whichever day fit best. Now, you feel a little silly planning your trip so specifically just to see a boy. But frankly, you don’t find it within yourself to let it impact you too much.

You put on your jacket and leave for the bookstore. It’s the beginning of winter, so you walk as quickly as your feet can carry you. The ten minute walk feels like 20 in the cold but finally, you enter the shop. Lily hears the bell ring and looks up to greet the customer and once seeing that it’s you, she laughs out loud.

“Not. A. Word,” you mutter to her as you head to your seat. It has a perfect view of the register, so Lily shoots you winks every now and then - knowing that you can see her and that she can see you - all of which you roll your eyes in response to. 

The bookstore is small, so conversations can be heard from across the store. About an hour into reading your book, you hear Lily talking to the boy. “Hey Remus,” she all but shouts to him, knowing that you’re listening. “Can you go by the register while I wipe down the tables?” Remus, you think. That’s a cute name.

You can’t hear his response but he appears in your viewpoint a minute later. You find yourself staring at him once more. He sits down at the chair behind the register and begins reading a book. He looks perfect sitting there and you can’t help but stare. 

“You’re welcome!” Lily shouts at you, knocking you out of your trance.

“Lily, he can hear you!” you whisper, trying to get her to be quiet.

“Yeah, whatever. With all your staring, I’m sure he’ll catch on eventually anyways. You know you’re visible from the register, right?” she teases. “I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you,” she says as she nudges your shoulder. She leaves to go back to the front of the store and leaves you to your book.

The next time you look up from your book, you realize that it’s almost time for the shop to close. You see Remus and Lily both doing their closing duty tasks and sheepishly get up from your table, embarrassed that you stayed there this long.

“Bye, Lily,” you say to her as you leave the store.

“Bye, y/n,” she winks at you, Remus right by her side. You avoid Remus’s eyes as you leave the store, already counting down the days till next Saturday.

— 

Almost as slowly as last week, Saturday finally rolls around once more. You get to the bookshop a little later than you normally do. You only have a little bit left in your book to read, so you decided to spend your day doing other things, like running errands, and would finish the book at the shop.

“Almost thought you weren’t going to show up,” Lily says jokingly when she sees you walk in.

“I swear, you’re going to be the death of me.” You settle into your spot and do the same thing you’ve been doing the last few weeks. The simplicity and the repetition of your Saturday routine pleases you and has become something that you look forward to.

You ease into your novel and become wrapped in it, very close to the end and very excited to finish it. You hear Lily ask Remus to clean the tables, making a mental note to yell at her later, but go back to focus on your book. One, because you want to finish it. But also because it would help you avoid eye contact with him.

Finishing the book takes a little longer than expected. Stealing glances at Remus a little too frequently probably didn’t help. You finally finish and close your book and rest it on the table. 

“I really like that book,” you hear Remus say from a few feet to your left as he’s cleaning a table.

“Oh, yeah. It was really good. Kinda sad I finished it, though. I didn’t want it to be over.” You can feel your heartbeat quickening as you look up to meet his eyes. You have been daydreaming about talking to him since you met, and you can’t believe it’s finally come true.  

“I can give you some recommendations, if you’d like.” He speaks with a quiet voice. 

“Yeah, sure. That sounds nice.” You get up from your seat and he walks you to the shelves to show you some books. 

“This is one of my favorites,” he says, grabbing a book from the shelf. 

“I’ll be sure to check it out. Thanks.”

“No problem,” he smiles. “I’m Remus, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you smile back.

You begin walking over to the register to purchase your book. Once you turn the corner from the book stacks, you see Lily silently cheering for you.

“Oh he’s totally into you too.”

“Oh hush. Just ring me up.” You blush as you hand her the book.

—

Making the weekly trip here quickly becomes your favorite day of the week. Over the last few weeks, you’ve grown closer to Remus. He’s given you countless book recommendations and have given him some in return. You hangout with him in the shop during his shift, often earning teasing glances from Lily. You’ve learned a little bit about him from small talk through your hangouts. He’s a year older than you and he's from Wales. Like you, he liked the small atmosphere of the town and was drawn to it, and his two best friends moved here also. He just recently moved to town at the end of fall and the first thing he did was get a job here at the bookstore.

This week's visit to the bookstore happens to fall on Valentine’s day and you were hoping that Remus would be working, not knowing if he was dating anyone. Remus has set up Lily on a date with one of his friends, so you knew that she wouldn’t be working tonight.

You open the door to shop, the bell ringing as you enter. You see Remus at his usual spot behind the counter, which sends a bit of relief through you knowing that he wasn’t out with anyone else. Upon hearing the bell, he looks up and makes eye contact with you, giving you his usual smile before continuing to help out the customer. 

You make your way to your usual seat and move forward with the weekly routine that’s been in place since Remus started working here: come to the store, read a book Remus recommended, talk with him about it, buy another one of his recommendations, give him a recommendation if he needs one, and repeat the next week.

You sit like this for about an hour, content with your book and your coffee. You hear the bell ring and glance up to look at the counter and notice that Remus isn’t there and you feel a pit grow in your stomach. Maybe he is going out tonight, you think to yourself while sighing, and you go back to reading your book. You feel silly for letting yourself get so attached to a boy you just met.

The bell at the store rings once more a few minutes later and although you can’t see the door from your seat, you see Remus getting back to the counter holding a bouquet of flowers. Every bit of hope that you had that he may be single leaves your body in that very moment and you feel just about ready to cry.

You decide it’s time for you to leave, not wanting to see whoever those flowers are for. You grab your book and just as you turn around, you see Remus walking towards you with a book in hand. You try to act normal, but are sure that somehow, there’s a mix of sadness, panic, and joy on your face all at once.

“Hi Y/N, where’re you going?” he says with a small frown.

“ I was just gonna head home and finish reading this there,” you reply softly while waving the book up to show him which one it is, trying not to show your disappointment. “I actually really like it,” you continue, “I’ll probably end up finishing it tonight.”

“I’m glad you like it, it’s one of my favorites. Here’s another one I think you’d like,” he says while handing you the book.”

“Thanks,” you smile. “Can you ring me up for it on my way out?”

“I already bought it, consider it a Valentine’s day treat,” he says, causing you to blush. “So, you don’t have any plans tonight?” You feel your breath hitch in your throat, hoping this is leading where you’ve always dreamed it will.

“I don’t,” you say intrigued, tilting your head slightly. 

“What do you think about coming over to my place? I can cook dinner and you can finish reading that book, maybe we can watch a movie, or listen to music,” he rambles on nervously. “I don’t really care what we do. Completely up to you.” He adds on, smiling anxiously as he awaits your answer.

You are smiling giddily and probably look a little crazy, but you can’t help yourself. This moment doesn’t feel real. Your wishes are finally coming true.

“I’d love that,” you reply as quickly as your voice can after processing what just happened. “But who’re those flowers on the counter for?” you question.

“Oh, I forgot,” he says while running back to the counter. He grabs them and walks back over to you, carrying the bouquet of deep red roses scattered with baby’s breath flowers in between. “These are for you. I didn’t want to come right up with these and scare you off, or in case you were dating anyone or said no. Although with the weekly visits and the way you always stare at me, I didn’t really think you had one anyways.”

“I don’t stare!” you yell before putting your face into your hands, mortified. Because you spent a lot of time staring at him. Remus pulls your hands down and tilts your head up by your chin to meet his eyes as if to say Yes, you do. “I don’t stare,” you insist.

“Right, whatever you say,” he mocks. “Are you ready to go? I took the rest of the night off.” 

“You took the night off? And what if I said no,” you tease while gathering your things.

“I had a hunch you’d say yes,” he replies. “And Lily told me you would.”

“You asked Lily?” you almost yell, causing him to laugh.

“Of course I did. I wasn’t really looking to get rejected.”

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me. But yeah, I’m ready to go.” He grabs your bag and swings it over his shoulder. He opens the door for you and the pair of you leave the store. Once outside, he begins leading you in the direction of his home. 

“How far do you live?” you ask. 

“I have a small house on the outskirts of the town. About a twenty minute walk if you don’t mind walking.”

“Yeah that's perfect.” The two of you begin the walk to his house. Casual chit chat fills the air as the two of you get to know more about each other, getting closer together as the walk progresses. You point out your apartment building to him when you pass it. 

“I almost moved in there,” he says to you.

“Why didn’t you?”

“You’ll see when we get to mine.”

“Well what’s that supposed to mean? I like my place,” you tease as you continue walking, following Remus wherever he goes. 

“Oh I’m sure your place is great. And I’d love to see it one day. But my place is amazing. You’ll see.” He has a smile etched onto his face and is walking joyously towards his house.

The rest of the walk is filled with comfortable silence. As you walk further and further from the center of town, you wonder where Remus is taking you. Although you’ve lived in this town for what feels like forever now, you haven’t ventured this far into the outskirts.

Finally, Remus starts slowing down. The two of you make it to a little cul de sac that only people who live here would go down. There are three houses, each with a long driveway and trees scattered around for separation and privacy. He leads you to the house to the right and begins walking down the driveway with you. Just as he thought, your jaw quite literally drops when you see his house. It's quaint and perfect. The walls are green and there's some stone, brick, and wood throughout for contrast. Vines line the walls and there's a beautiful front porch that looks like it wraps around to the back. 

“Holy shit, Remus. How on earth did you find this place? This house is gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” he smiles. “I built it.”

“You what?!”

“My friends and I wanted to live near each other. We were looking for an area to move into and I stumbled on this place. We bought the land and built the houses. That house across the way is my mate James’ and the one in the center belongs to Sirius.” 

“Remus you’re amazing. This house is amazing,” you gush at him.

“You haven’t even seen the inside yet. C’mon.” He grabs your hand and leads you inside the house. You didn’t think anything could top the outside of the house, but Remus Lupin was full of surprises. There was a huge bookshelf that made your own collection look tiny. The fireplace was extravagant and has pictures lined up on the mantle. Much like your house, his was filled with trinkets and frames lining the walls. One frame shows him and two other boys that you assume to be James and Sirius. There are more group pictures lining his walls. You wonder which one he set Lily up with.

He has a record player off to the side and his collection is just as big as yours. “Pick a record,” he says as he guides you over to the table that houses his record player. You flip through his collection – of course he has it alphabetized by the artist's last name. So do you – and stop when you get to David Bowie.

“I love Bowie!” you shout as you pull out The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust, your favorite album by him. “Here.” You hand him to record and he smiles and laughs as he puts it on.

“That’s my favorite album too.” Five Years starts playing and he walks around to finish giving you a tour. The kitchen is just as nice. The cabinets are green, slightly lighter than the outside of the house, and there are wood and gold accents along with wood floors. There’s a small table in the kitchen and a large island, perfect for cooking. Next is the main bathroom, which is also green, and has numerous plants inside. He walks you upstairs and briefly shows you his bedroom, green again and filled with many books, and the three extra bedrooms, one of which is his office. 

Lastly, he leads you back downstairs and out the back door to the backyard. You were right, the porch does wrap around the back. Lights and plants line the porch. He turns on the outside lights to reveal a fenced in backyard engulfed by trees. Two bigger trees are inside the fence and in between a hammock is hanging. There’s a fire pit with chairs surrounding it and lights strung all around the backyard. Amazingly, there is an inground pool that’s covered up by a tarp.

“Remus, this is amazing. I can’t believe you built this.”

“Thanks. You haven’t even seen the best part.”

“You keep saying that and it keeps getting better. I don’t know how you can top this backyard.”

“Look up.”

“What?”

“Look up,” he says again.

You listen to him and look up at the night sky and you’re met with the most beautiful view of the sky you’ve ever seen. The stars and the moon are shining so brightly, It’s like the sky was created by Remus himself and you were seeing it for the first time.

“How the hell does the sky look like this,” you whisper in awe.

“This was the selling point for me. I sit on the hammock and just stare at the sky for hours.”

“This really is amazing. You’re lucky to have this place, you put a lot of effort into it.”

“Thanks, I really did. It took a lot of building and planning, but I’m so happy with where it is right now. Anyways, you must be hungry, let me start cooking. How does chicken sound?”

“Sounds great,” you reply. He takes your hand and leads you back inside to the kitchen. He pulls out the chair at the kitchen table and motions for you to sit. You mutter a small thanks as he lights a few candles on the table and begins grabbing all the ingredients. Before he begins prepping, he puts on an apron that says, “Kiss The Cook,” causing you to laugh.

“Hey. James bought this for me and it’s the only one that I have,” he says defensively, busting out into a laugh.

Conversation falls naturally upon the two of you and you learn more about Remus as he cooks for you. His favorite color is, shockingly, green. He also loves to cook. He and his friends do weekly dinners and this usually falls upon Remus to cook but he doesn’t mind. Sirius and James bring the drinks and desserts and Remus says they always have a good time. 

“You know the bakery down the street from the bookstore? They usually get the desserts from there,” he says as he plates up the food.

“You’re lying. I work there! What do they look like, I bet I’ve seen them.”

Remus smiles as he goes to the living room and comes back with a photo of the three of them.

“I do recognize them! They come in all the time. I always slip them something extra.”

“You’re the one that’s been doing that? They’re gonna freak when I tell them the girl I’ve been swooning over is the same one that’s fueling their sweet tooth.”

“You’ve been swooning over me?” you joke at him. He just blushes in response and looks at his chicken. You smile at your mutual ability to stun each other and start cutting up your chicken.

“I think this is the best chicken that I’ve ever eaten,” you say to him after taking a bite.

“You’re just trying to make me blush.”

“Well yeah. But I’m serious, this chicken is really good. Next time, I’ll cook for you.” “I’d like that,” he says with a smile. 

Once the two of you finish your meal, you make your way to the living room where Remus puts on a new record. You settle onto the couch as he starts a fire. He sits next to you, grabs a blanket, and drapes it across the two of you as he hands you your book, filling you with confusion.

“Finish the book,” he says.

“It’s fine. I’ll finish it when I get home.”

“No, trust me. I don’t mind. Sitting here with you is all I need.” You blush in response to his words and you open the book. You have less than 30 pages left, so you shouldn’t be busy for too long. His arm wraps around you and you cuddle closer into him as you hold open the book. Sometime later, you close the book and look up to see him staring at you.

“How was it?” he asks.

“Really good. I’m glad you recommended it to me.”

“Me too.”

The two of you stare into eachothers eyes for what feels like an eternity, neither one of you willing to make the first move. With a wave of confidence, you lean in to break the distance between your lips and his. His lips are soft and you move slowly at first. After a few seconds, you tear away from him and go to look him in the eyes once more. Before you can do this, he pulls you in by your cheeks and locks his lips to yours, this time with more passion. He pushes you back without breaking contact until your back is on the couch and he lies on top of you. He pulls away for a second, with nothing but Bowie and the south of your breath filling the room.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” you say breathlessly.

“Trust me, I do,” he says before going back in. Your hands comb through his hair as his roam your body. Every touch of his feels electric and you can’t imagine a life without his touch. The sound of the doorbell ringing surprises both of you, Remus so much that he falls off of the couch, causing you to laugh. He shoots you a glare before going to answer the door.

“Moony, how’d the date go!” you hear a man shout as he barges in the house. You hear two pairs of footsteps, three if you count Remus’s, walk into the living room and you lock eyes with James and Sirius as they sit on the opposing couch.

“Oh shit! You’re the bakery girl! Moony, why didn’t you tell us you were in love with the bakery girl!” the long haired man says to his friend before turning to you. “He’s been pining over you for weeks. Can’t believe he finally got the guts to ask you out.” 

“How was I supposed to know she was the bakery girl!” he shouts in defense. “Now we were kind of in the middle of something. Can you go?” You laugh at the banter between the boys.

“Ouch, kicking us out? I’ll remember this,” the boy with glasses says. “We accept sweet treats as apologies.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind next time you come in,” you say as Remus practically kicks them out.

He huffs as he closes the door and starts walking over towards you. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes. “They’re so embarrassing and will probably be the death of me.”

“It's okay,” you chuckle. “They seem funny. I can’t wait till the next time they come in.”

“Oh I’m sure they can’t wait either.”

“I had a really great time tonight. I hate to end it early, but I should be getting home.”

“Let me drive you,” he says. He grabs your jacket as well as his. He swings your bag over his shoulder once more and leads you outside to his car. 

“If it’s so cold outside, why didn’t you drive to work?” you question.

“We wouldn’t have had as much time to talk,” he responds. “Wouldn’t you rather a 20 minute walk filled with conversation than a 2 minute car ride? Plus the walk up to the house is a better reveal than a drive up.”

“Can’t argue with that,” you say as you buckle in.

The drive to your house is quite short and you’re sad to have to say bye to Remus. He parks outside the front and walks you up to your apartment door.

“I had fun tonight. Even if it got interrupted by your friends,” you smile at him.

“I’m glad they didn’t scare you off.”

He stares into your eyes before leaning in to give you one final kiss for the night. He watches you enter your apartment before going back to his car and driving away.

Once inside, you finally have a minute to collect your thoughts and process what just happened over the last few hours. You shoot Lily a text saying you hope she had fun on her date and also cursed her out for not telling you about Remus’s plan to ask you out. You put the flowers he bought you in a vase on your kitchen table and begin getting ready for bed.

Once your night routine is done, the last thing you do before bed is read. You grab the book he gave you out of your bag and you flip to the first page. You’re shocked to see there’s a note on the inside of the front cover from Remus.

Y/N,

Hopefully you said yes to the date or else this is going to be a really awkward read. You caught my eye the moment I saw you at the bookstore. Yes I saw you staring at me in the aisles on my first shift. You were not slick. And I saw you staring all the other times. And all the times you and Lily talked. Sound really travels in there. You never saw me staring at you, though. Getting to know you the last few weeks has been the best few weeks I’ve had in a while. Even when the days were tough, the thought of seeing you at the store got me out of bed. I really hope you said yes to the date because I would not want you to read this otherwise.

Anyways, this is my favorite book of all time and I wanted to share it with you. I hope you like it. I’d love to talk about it when you’re done. Give me a call, or come visit me. You know where I work.

Remus

You smile like a little girl as you read the letter, happy the feeling has been mutual the entire time. You save his number into your phone and send him a text thanking him for tonight and for the book. You go to the first chapter and your stomach drops when you see the book is annotated. You flip through the pages and see that almost every page has a note on it. Small things like underlined quotes, or something in the margin like “this made me think of you.” Your heart flutters knowing that Remus did this for you. You sit down in your bed, grab a pen, and begin reading, responding to his annotations along the way. 

—

The sun’s rays peer into your room just as you finish the last page and you realize that you stayed up all night reading and annotating the book. You get up from bed, grab your jacket, and run out the door towards Remus’s house. 

You make it to Remus’s house much quicker than you imagined. Out of breath, you ring his doorbell and wait for him to open the door. It takes him a good thirty seconds before he makes it to the door. His hair is messy and he’s wearing grey sweatpants and a green sweater that looks like it was thrown on haphazardly before walking to the door. Sleep fills his eyes as he rubs them in the morning light, the sun hitting him just right and giving his skin a beautiful golden color as well as lighting up his eyes. At first, he looks confused as to who could possibly be ringing his doorbell at the crack of dawn. But once he realizes it’s you, a smile grows on his face.

“I finished the book. I really liked it,” you say before Remus could even get a word out, still panting from the walk over.

“You what?”

“I finished the book.”

“How on earth did you manage to do that?” he questions. His voice beautifully raspy from the night.

“I saw the annotations and I stayed up all night reading. Here,” you say as you hand him the book. “I hope you don’t mind. I wrote some notes back for you.”

He smiles back at you and flips through the pages to look at the annotations you left for him. “Have you slept at all?”

“Nope,” you say while popping the P. “I wanted to finish it as soon as I could and get it back to you.

He stares at you in response, his smile growing larger by the second. “Come in,” he says as he moves to the side of the doorway to give you space to walk in.

You walk in his house and he leads you to his bedroom. 

“Come on,” he says as he pulls open the covers. “Let’s get some sleep.”

You join him in the bed as he pulls you close to him. The heat radiates off of his body and warms you up as you cuddle into his body. Sleep falls upon you quickly and the last thing on your mind before you fall asleep is Remus Lupin.

[mint-yooxgi]

{13} - Paradise Gardens - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Book Two to Hotel California

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humour

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on Yeosang, Yunho, San, and Mingi)

Words: 10,500

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma and bullying: past suicidal thoughts mentioned, and mention of a lack of self worth, OC runs into an old 'friend' near the beginning, I think that's it honestly. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: So, I decided to split this part into two since I feel it makes the story flow better. I'm happy where I ended it, and I really hope you all look forward to the next few parts! There's quite a lot of story coming your way hehehe As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve

There’s a fond look in your eyes as you stand by yourself in front of the large window overlooking the newborns sleeping soundly before you. The hospital is quiet, given how early in the morning it is, a few staff walking behind you every now and then. Still, you cannot help but watch over little Elijah, even now, ensuring that nothing happens to him while his mother rests with his father in her hospital room.

Born a little over eight hours ago, well into the night, he sleeps soundly. A week late, weighing in at a healthy eight pounds, eleven ounces, they keep him wrapped up while Crystal recovers from giving birth the night before.

When you had gotten the call yesterday, you immediately rushed to the hospital with Seonghwa and the others. You met your parents here, waiting as long as you could before being sent home. Having wanted as natural a birth as possible, Crystal had been in for a long night. 

Much to your content, you discovered Elijah had been born in the early hours of the morning, and had already been checked over for any ailments that might affect him after birth. He had none, and is perfectly healthy according to all of the doctors. A fact which makes you, and all of your family, happy beyond belief.

Currently, Vasco is with Crystal, staying with her after recovery while Elijah sleeps. San has went to grab you both coffees with Mingi, who you asked to stop by and check up on Crystal for you on the way to the café. You want to make sure that she’s fairing well while you check up on your baby nephew for the first time. 

The other guys stayed home, per your request. Of course, a few of them had protested at that - Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong - considering you all don’t know what Malik or Dimitri’s next moves are. However, at your assurance, they backed off. Besides, you have both Mingi and San here with you, and you highly doubt you would be attacked in a hospital.

Still, you’re on high alert. Just in case.

Looking over little Elijah once more as he sleeps, you notice a figure come to stand beside you out of the corner of your eyes. He’s tall, but not as tall as Yunho, with dirty blond hair. He looks familiar, but you don’t pay him much mind. You just wish he’d stop glancing at you every few seconds.

The soft call of your name startles you, and you finally turn to get a good look at the man standing beside you. His blue eyes are hauntingly familiar.

“Hi, Jake.” You give him a small, albeit tight smile.

“I thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure.” He smiles lightly back. “I haven’t seen you since elementary school. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been well.” You reply softly. “Yourself?”

“Never better,” his eyes crinkle slightly as he turns back to observe the sleeping infants before you. “Is one of them yours?”

He holds a paper coffee cup in his hand, using it to motion before him along the line of babies.

“Oh. No.” You shake your head. “Just a proud aunt watching over her nephew.”

The corner of your lips twitches upwards as you motion to Elijah sleeping soundly before you.

A moment of silence as you cradle your elbows in your hands, almost to the point of curling in on yourself. You clear your throat. “You?”

A brilliant smile lights up his features, his eyes crinkling at the sides as his chest puffs out slightly in pride. He nods in the direction of two girls sleeping side by side. “My wife just had a twins.”

“Oh.” You meet his gaze briefly, offering him a small smile. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He grins widely, ruffling his hair which already seems quite disheveled. “It would have been your sister, right?”

You blink, pulled out of your own thoughts for the moment. “I’m sorry?”

“Your sister who had the baby,” he motions lightly to Elijah with his cup again. “If I remember correctly.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” You clear your throat once more. “It was her.”

“Tell her congratulations for me.” He nods.

You swallow the dryness in your throat, shifting from foot to foot. “I will. Thank you.”

You don’t think you’ve ever had an encounter where you’ve felt more awkward in your life. Sure, you could brush up against Mingi’s, or even San’s mental links right now, but it’s not like you’re in danger. You’re just more uncomfortable than anything at the moment, given everything he did to you when you were younger.

“Actually, it must be pure luck that we ran into each other today.” This time, Jake clears his throat, somewhat nervously.

You hum in response, shifting the slightest bit further from him without arousing suspicion.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the past lately, and it just reminded me that I never apologized to you.”

His statement catches you so off guard, that your hands end up falling to your sides.

“I was a huge asshole to you when we were younger, and I don’t know how much this will mean to you now, but I’m sorry. I wasn’t happy when I was a kid, and I felt you were an easy target to take that out on. I was always jealous of you, and I let that and my anger control my actions. That was not right.” He says, no longer looking towards you, but down at his hands with that coffee cup held in them for dear life. “I regret getting my friends involved to torment you, too. The feeling of them listening to me gave me a sense of power I felt I lacked in my life, and you were the unfortunate victim.”

You swear you’ve stopped breathing, whole body feeling numb as you refuse to so much as look in his direction. Jake was one of the ones who tormented you so much when you were younger, and gave you all of those self doubts, as well as an incredible amount of self hatred. One of the ones who made you believe you were worthless, ugly, and unlovable.

The worst part: he started out as one of your closest friends, too. A close friend who you had cherished above all else, just as you do with all the people you care about.

A worried call of your name greets your ears, and you turn to see San standing to your opposite side, a cup of coffee held in each of his hands. Mingi is nowhere in sight.

There is no hiding the narrowed eyed look San sends Jake’s way as the former comes to stand beside you. He places the cup of coffee in your hand gently before immediately wrapping his now free arm around your waist. Almost instantly, he pulls you into his side.

“You don’t have to forgive me.” Jake continues, and you feel San’s grip around your waist tighten. “It’s been years, and I would understand if you never did. What I did was vile, and inexcusable. Just know, that I am sorry, and I regret it all.” He swallows thickly. “I just thought you should know.”

With a firm nod in acknowledgement towards San, and without another word spoken, Jake takes his leave.

Your eyes follow after him down the hall, watching as he retreats around a corner and out of sight. You don’t even notice Mingi has come to join you until you hear his voice speaking to you.

“Who was that?” There’s a hint of a growl to his words, him taking note of the distressed state you seem to be in at the moment.

You inhale sharply, as if suddenly coming back to the reality before you.

“Starlight?” Immediately, worry takes over Mingi’s features as he looks at you.

Beside you, you can feel San physically trembling.

“Baby,” his voice is low in attempts to control his building anger, “What did he do to you?”

You shake your head, blinking a few times blankly. “Nothing.”

“Then, why was he apologizing to you?” Mingi’s brow furrows, stepping in front of you in order to gently grasp your hands still holding onto that cup in his own.

“That was Jake.” You blink, head still reeling at this turn of events. “He- he-“ You take a deep breath in to steady your nerves. “He was my friend. Once.”

The two males share a look.

“You don’t look like you’ve just been chatting up an old friend.” San glares off in the direction Jake had walked off in, as if he can still see the male behind the walls of the hospital.

“He was my friend,” you repeat, pursing your lips for only a moment, “before he started bullying me.”

You swear that were you not in a public place, both males would have let growls escape them.

“He made me feel worthless, and pathetic.” Your gaze is somewhat blank, as if recalling memories from your childhood that you have long since kept hidden. “I can’t count the amount of times he told me I was ugly.” You swallow. “And fat. And stupid. And that I would never amount to anything. That no one would ever care for me, so I should just runaway and die.”

You swear you see San’s eyes flash in the reflection of the glass beside Mingi’s head.

“He got his friends involved, and it was like a game to them who could berate me the most.” You don’t know how you’re still standing, or how you’ve managed to quell your building emotions for the time being, but you do. “He told me to kill myself more times than I can remember.”

You look down at that cup of coffee in your hands, finally taking note of Mingi still gently holding onto you. The way they both have trouble breathing, chests heaving with each breath, you just know that they’re both barely containing their anger for the moment.

“I told you once before how people would pretend to like me as a joke,” you exhale shakily, and you hear the faintest of growls come from the man still holding you to his side. “I wish I could say I saw through it every time, but sometimes having a crush can blind you.”

San nearly drops the cup of coffee in his hand. “You liked him?”

“I mentioned we started off as friends, no?” Your lips twitch upwards sadly. “I think that’s what made what he did worse. I let so many things slide because I just wanted his attention. It’s something I’ve always done. With him though, any attention was good attention to me. It didn’t take long for it to change. His younger brother always was rude to me from the start, but then he started in on the ‘fun’, too.”

This time, there’s no mistaking when Mingi’s eyes flash black right before you.

Quickly, you scan the hallway to ensure it’s still empty. 

It is.

“He never apologized, or even acknowledged what he did to me before. He always denied it when confronted about it, too.” Your grip tightens slightly around that cup in your hands. “Until now.”

Raising a shaky hand to your cheek, Mingi cups your face tenderly in his palm. Gently, his thumb strokes over your skin, and you can feel the barely contained rage in his touch despite how delicately he holds onto you.

“We should tear him apart for what he did to you.” Mingi keeps his voice surprisingly low and steady. His Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “He doesn’t deserve to live.”

A low growl of agreement sounds from San.

Almost instantly, you’re shaking your head. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” San asks, pulling away from you in shock as he begins pacing in front of both you and Mingi in that little space between where you stand and the wall.

“He’s not worth it.” You reach out, and instantly San has his free hand in yours. “I never expected to run into him after all these years, least of all for him to apologize as soon as I did.”

“Are you-“ Mingi takes the time to study your features closely, gently guiding your gaze back to his. “Are you okay?”

“Shocked.” You blink a few times in response. “Attempting to process things for the moment, but I think I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?” San steps in closer, nothing but worry etched into his brow.

“Yeah.” You meet his gaze. “I don’t know, it’s almost… freeing in a sense.” You swallow. “It’s almost like getting a sense of closure I never knew I needed.”

Instantly, the two males seem to relax the slightest bit from your words.

“He seemed genuine when he spoke to you.” San adds softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Besides, I’m sure our dear Sannie here would have torn him apart in an instant if he sensed any malicious or deceitful thoughts towards you.” Mingi finally drops his hands, turning to glance off in the direction Jake went off in. “I know I would have.”

“You’re damn right I would have.” San hums in agreement.

A soft laugh escapes you. “That I do know.”

They offer you small smiles in response, an affectionate gleam to their eyes. 

“His wife just had twins.” You motion to the two baby girls wrapped up in blankets near Elijah with your chin.

They spare a brief look in their direction before shifting their focus onto Elijah. Almost instantaneously, Elijah stretches in his sleep, a tiny yawn escaping him as he shifts his position.

You coo lovingly down at your little nephew.

“He’s perfectly healthy, as far as we, and all of the doctors can tell.” San is beside you once more, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

“And Crystal?” You spare a glance at Mingi.

“A little tired, but recovering just fine.” He smiles at you in response. “I checked her over like you asked.”

“Good.” A soft smile pulls at your lips. “I’m glad.”

Slowly, the three of you begin making your way back down the hallway and towards the room Crystal is in. You plan to spend some time with her before heading back for the day, and getting some more training done with Yunho and Yeosang. 

You’re almost at a point where you can start learning the basics of a few weapons, and you’re getting quite excited. Wooyoung is more than ready to start teaching you about different poisons, and he’s often hinted at certain plants which have high toxicity levels. For now, he’s still letting you have some space, not wanting to give you any ‘ideas’ for the next time he gets overtly clingy. 

Not that you would poison him. 

Similarly, Yunho has been helping you hone your mind, strengthening it before the inevitable happens once you become like them.

Once you become like them.

There’s a thought that has been crossing your mind more often than not lately. You know that they mentioned that it would consist of the merging of souls in a way - you give them a piece of your soul while they give you a piece of theirs in exchange - but you’re still not entirely sure what that entails. You’ve been meaning to ask, only, you haven’t found the proper time to do so.

Perhaps you’ll bring it up again, soon.

For now, you’ll focus on joking around and making your sister smile as you sit beside her hospital bed. Vasco managed to pass out in the one chair in the time it took for Mingi to come find both you and San, but you don’t hold it against him. The man has been up all night with his wife.

After about an hour, you notice Crystal starting to drift off to sleep, too, so you bid her a fond farewell for now. With a big hug and a kiss from you, you tell her to get as much rest as she can, and that you’ll be around to visit again soon.

The whole car ride back home is quiet. Both Mingi and San attempt to engage you in conversation, only for you to reply with small, one word answers. That is, if you don’t just hum in response. Your mind is clearly elsewhere, and worry furrows their brows as they watch you almost subconsciously drive home.

You seem distracted, and it’s enough to have the others observing you carefully as you walk through the house. The quiet is unusual for you after visiting your sister, and though you don’t appear angry, or upset, it’s quite unsettling.

Of course, it takes no time for both Mingi and San to be sharing what happened with the others. 

Why am I suddenly getting flashbacks to that worm we disposed of all those months ago? Wooyoung nearly growls out in all of their heads.

Believe me, Hongjoong sighs. You’re not the only one.

So, why aren’t we doing that to this one right now? Perhaps even something worse?Jongho quirks a brow while staring down at the pages of his book.

She told us not to. Mingi replies. Said he wasn’t worth it.

But he hurt her. This time, it’s Seonghwa who responds. None of his brothers need to see him to know that he wears a frown on his features currently. 

An expression mirrored by more than just one male.

She said it happened a long time ago. San adds. We don’t know the full details, just what she’s told us.

And that should have been enough to at least torment the fellow. Yunho says, as if it should have been the most obvious thing in the world.

I don’t know, guys. Mingi sighs. She told us that she felt as if it was almost freeing in a sense for him to apologize after all these years. You know I’m all for eviscerating anyone that harms her, but if she says not to, I think we should listen to her.

We’re lucky she hasn’t found out about Calum, yet. Yeosang chimes in, an almost knowing hum to his words.

And she never will. Hongjoong confirms. Just like she doesn’t have to know about this ‘Jake’ guy.

His wife just had twins, Hongjoong. San states, rather firmly. Besides, do you really want to disobey Our Queen’s wishes like that so easily?

A moment of silence settles over all of them as San’s words sink in.

San’s right. Seonghwa finally breaks the building tension. We don’t purposely orphan children, or widow spouses. Nor should we go against her wishes.

Boo! You guys are no fun. They can all practically hear the pout in Wooyoung’s voice as he says this.

I suppose the circumstances were a lot different last time. Jongho sighs.

We could still torment him mentally. Yunho suggests casually.

Oh, I’m all for this! Wooyoung exclaims excitedly. I could mildly poison him. Make it a hindrance to his daily life for a week or so.

All fun ideas, Yeosang hums. But I think you’re all forgetting one important detail.

At his brother’s inquisitive silence, Yeosang is quick to continue. 

She said, ‘no’.

“Is everything okay?” The sound of your voice, somewhat worried and soft, draws both Yunho and Yeosang out of their mental conversation with their brothers for the moment.

“Of course, Petal.” Yunho smiles at you. “We’re just worried about you, is all.”

“Me?” You quirk a brow in surprise.

“You seem distracted.” Yeosang tilts his head to the side slightly, almost curiously.

“You two have been standing to the side frowning like you can’t decide between cheddar or parmesan cheese for the past ten minutes.” You huff out a laugh. “If anyone’s distracted, it’s you.”

“We’re waiting for you to finish stretching.” Yeosang answers, attempting some form of causality.

“I finished stretching and doing some warm up exercises ten minutes ago.” You deadpan.

“Oh.” 

That seems to shut them up for a good thirty seconds.

“So then, what would you like to work on today, Petal?” Yunho is quick to change the subject.

Immediately, you begin vibrating in excitement, grinning widely as your eyes shine.

“Let’s finalize your hand-to-hand combat training first before we pull out the knives.” Yunho chuckles.

A dramatic pout pulls onto your features and Yeosang elbows Yunho quite pointedly in the ribs.

“Don’t worry, My Dear, we’ll let you try some weapons later today.” Yeosang assures you.

Almost instantly, your mood perks up, and both of them are smiling fondly at you.

“I take it I won’t actually get any pointy objects to start.” You quirk a brow playfully.

The two males share a look before Yunho is shrugging. “If that’s what you want.”

“We may be overprotective, Dearest, but we’re not unreasonable.” Yeosang replies. “If any incidents occur, we can just heal you.”

“Or us.” Yunho adds at seeing your expression of disbelief.

A subtle nod of your head in amusement is all he gets in response.

“You’ve been working on building your strength with Mingi and San, correct?” Yunho is quick to ask, walking over to the sparring mats to your left.

A nod is all the confirmation he gets.

“Alright then, Dearest,” Yeosang smiles, moving over beside his brother before meeting your gaze. “Show us what you’ve got.”

“Are you suggesting I take the both of you at the same time?” You quirk a brow teasingly as you step onto the mats.

The low growls you receive in response are all the confirmation you get that they’ve taken the comment in a different way than what you originally insinuated.

“Keep thinking like that, I’ll easily distract the both of you.” You chuckle, a sultry pull to the corner of your lips.

“We can’t help it, Dearest,” Yeosang sighs, almost wistfully. “You have a habit of dropping the most interesting thoughts into our minds at the best of times.”

“Not the worst?” Your brows flick upwards suggestively.

“Sometimes.” Yunho chuckles, and at the way your mouth falls open in mock offence, he’s quick to add, “I never said it was a bad thing, Petal.”

“It’s just a little more difficult to…” Yeosang searches for the right word, “concentrate on the battlefield with certain additions to our physique.”

“Yes, I can quite imagine how painful it is to fight when you’re hard.” You grin, huffing out a small laugh.

“It’s certainly not the most comfortable thing.” Yeosang nods in agreement.

“You speak as if you have experience with this sort of thing,” Your eyebrows raise, amusement shining behind your eyes.

When both of them shrug, you cannot help the boisterous laugh that escapes you.

“I’d say Captain has the most, though.” Yunho adds, seemingly nonchalantly. “He can get intense on the battlefield. In more than one way.”

“Oh?” This piques your interest. “Then, I look forward to it.”

The way they both blink at you in mild shock has you giggling.

“What? Surprised it doesn’t phase me that much anymore?” You tilt your head curiously.

“A little bit,” Yunho blinks, loosening his stance in preparation to fight you.

“A girl has her fantasies.” This time, it’s your turn to shrug.

Two low growls greet your ears, the faintest tint of black darkening their eyes.

“Care to share, Dearest?” Yeosang begins stalking towards you slowly, like a predator would its prey.

You immediately begin countering his every move, watching Yunho carefully out of the corner of your eyes. “Perhaps I’ll just show you.”

His breath hitches, and you strike.

For the next forty minutes, the three of you spar together on the mats. A few times, you manage to pin one of them, only for the other to knock you right off your balance. You’ve only ever sparred with one partner before, besides last week when Jongho and Mingi decided to challenge you further. So, taking on multiple of them at a time requires even more quick maneuvers and thinking on your part, but you’re starting to recognize a pattern to their attacks.

You’re not sure if they’re doing it on purpose, or if they’re aware of it or not, but Yunho seems to be the one to observe the scene before moving, and only when it looks like Yeosang has created an opening for him to get through. That, or when you’ve managed to subdue Yeosang for the moment.

Yeosang, on the other hand, enjoys staying low to the ground, crouching as he goes in for the attack to throw off your balance. He’s nimble, and much more flexible than you thought he could be. A fact which intrigues you as much as impresses you.

Both never fail to praise you any opportunity they get.

During the second round, Yeosang accidentally manages to tear your shirt. The scraps of fabric hang limply off of your shoulders, exposing your torso and the sports bra you wear.

Luckily, for you, it seems to distract them for a moment. Out of shock or something else, you don’t quite know. Either way, you know an opportunity when you see one.

Using this to your advantage, you manage to land a solid roundhouse kick to the side of Yunho’s head, quickly subduing Yeosang in the next moment.

Your chest heaves as you pin Yeosang beneath you, a victorious grin pulling at your lips.

Just as you go to say something, a low groan from the male laying on his back to your left draws your attention.

“Oh shit, Universe!” You hop right off of Yeosang to inspect the damage you’ve done to Yunho’s cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies, somewhat in a daze. His hand comes up to cup his cheek, almost affectionately. “Never better.”

“I just kicked you in the face, and you’re acting like a schoolboy who’s just received a cheek kiss from his crush for the first time.” You chuckle, noticing how Yeosang now kneels beside you with an almost pout on his lips. You quirk a brow, “What, you want me to kick you, too?”

Yeosang shoots you an innocent side eyed look, hope shining behind his orbs.

“I can’t wait to tell Mingi,” Yunho chuckles, pushing himself into a sitting position.

“I think Wooyoung might be more jealous.” Yeosang comments casually.

“You guys want me to harm you when we spar?” The appal is clear on your features.

“We don’t get hurt that easily, Dearest, but when it’s you that manages to surprise us, it’s incredible.” Yeosang tells you honestly. “Not to mention how much pride that fills us when you hit us in this context.”

“Not to mention incredibly sexy.” Yunho breathes, still stuck in that daze as the tips of his fingers gently rub over his cheek.

A brief conversation with Hongjoong about that scar that still sits proudly on his chest flashes through your mind.

“It’s impressive.” Yeosang concludes with a firm nod.

“Oh.” You giggle, a heat rising to your cheeks at their praise. “I still worry, though.”

“We know.” Yunho smiles at you, noticing how you gently pull his hand away to place a tender kiss upon his cheek. His ears flare bright red. “The feeling is, and will always be, mutual, Petal.”

You simply smile in response, helping Yunho back to his feet. Still, you cannot hide the concern in your eyes.

“Don’t worry, Petal.” Yunho chuckles, wrapping his one arm around you briefly in order to place a gentle kiss onto your temple. “Believe me when I say we’ve all suffered much worse injuries at each other’s hands before.”

You blink at him in shock.

“Remember how we told that you we don’t hold back on each other when sparring?” Yeosang chimes in.

Realization floods your features, nodding along to his words slowly.

“The bets were the worst.” Yunho hums, clearly reminiscing some past memories. “We would never kill each other, but we’ve gotten close to it a few times.”

Your brow furrows immensely in worry.

“Heat of the moment, Dearest.” Yeosang is quick to explain at the way your lips seem to part with a response. “It’s why we always had at least one of us to moderate the fights when we made bets on each other.”

“I still want to watch you guys fight one another at some point.” You comment, moving off to the side to take a drink of water.

“We haven’t forgotten, Petal.” Yunho grins. “We’re just saving it for now.”

You pout, somewhat dramatically.

“All in due time, Dearest.” Yeosang chuckles. “All in due time.”

You sigh, “I suppose it might be better for when I know how to at least use some weapons. I can study how you guys all use them, then.”

“Exactly.” Yunho nods, before catching himself. “Wait, what?”

“I thought I mentioned that I’m somewhat of a visual learner?” You tilt your head slightly in inquiry at him.

A flash of your hands weaving together those flowers in that clearing all those months ago flits through his mind.

“I remember now.” He hums, a loving smile gracing his lips.

A smile which you return.

Yeosang clears his throat, looking pointedly at Yunho. “How’s your head?”

Yunho spares a brief look towards you, a smirk pulling subtly onto his features. He licks his lips. “No complaints.”

The second that you spit out the water you’re drinking, Yeosang has jumped onto Yunho’s back, locking his arms around the elder male’s throat and choking him out. You begin coughing simultaneously as laughter attempts to escape you, Yunho thrashing around with Yeosang clinging like a koala to his back.

Finally, you manage to get your coughing under control as laughter takes over in full swing. Your eyes crinkle as you see the two of them continuing to play fight, Yunho soon tossing Yeosang over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and slamming the shorter male onto the mat below him.

The fact that they can hear how joyous you are in this moment makes each of their hearts swell. A sound neither will ever grow tired of. Knowing that they are the cause only serves to make them happy, pride swelling in their chests despite the circumstances that lead to this encounter. Well, at least for one of them.

You watch on with a fond look in your eyes as you lean against the side wall. That is, until a distant look crosses your features, and you seem to zone out for a minute or two.

“Is everything okay, Dearest?” It’s Yeosang’s voice that manages to pull you out of your thoughts.

You focus back in on your surroundings, noticing the worried tug of both his and Yunho’s brows, the two of them standing before you.

“Yeah,” you send them both a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Now, who’s the distracted one?” Yunho jokes, moving beside you in order to nudge your arm slightly with his elbow.

Yeosang sends him a pointed look before turning back to you. “Are you sure you’re okay, Dearest? San and Mingi told us what happened earlier at the hospital.“

You take a moment to think, brow furrowing slightly as you look down at the ground.

“I just-“ you sigh. “I had so much pent up anger and sadness when I was younger for what he did to me. I never understood why he did it, and now that this has happened, I don’t quite know how to feel.”

“How do you feel, Petal?” Yunho steps in closer, placing a comforting hand onto your shoulder.

“Relieved, in a way.” You reply honestly. “Confused. Maybe a little angry, and a slight bit resentful still. It happened so long ago, that I didn’t think too much of the situation anymore. At least, I tried not to, but seeing him today just brought everything back. I’m still attempting to figure out if I’m actually passed everything with him or not, or if I just wanted to scrub it from my memory. I don’t think I can forgive him, though. Not after what he did to me.”

A brief pause.

“You know, I contemplating running away from home because of him. Just disappearing off the map, and dying in a ditch, because I believed him when he said no one would care.” You swallow thickly. “I was only ten.”

The way you see Yeosang’s eyes flash before you out of the corner of your vision says it all. You don’t even need to look at Yunho to know he does the same.

“Yet, hearing him apologize for things today…” you trail off, finally lifting your gaze to glance at both males standing around you. “Well, it’s like I told San and Mingi earlier today. It did feel freeing. It felt like finally getting an acknowledgment of everything bad he did to me, and him owning up to it. It’s- it’s-” you blink, your lips parting as they twitch upwards, “gratifying.”

Gently, Yeosang takes your hands in his own, yet you still manage to feel the subtle way he cannot control them from shaking.

“Is there-“ he swallows thickly, keeping his voice low as he clears his throat, “Is there anything we can do?”

You take a moment to stare deeply into his eyes, thinking of your answer carefully.

You blink lightly once more.

“No.” You shake your head. “No. I don’t think there is.”

“Petal-“

“The past can’t be changed now, nor do I want it to be.” You cut Yunho’s worried tone off. “I’m not the same person I was back then, but it’s made me who I am today. Yes, he hurt me.” You take a breath. “Am I going to let those old memories control my life? No. Besides, I’ve got more important things to think about now.”

“As long as you’re okay, Petal,” Yunho squeezes your shoulder gently. “That’s all we care about.”

“I’m okay, Yun.” You offer him a small smile before squeezing Yeosang’s hands back. “I’ll be okay.”

A comfortable silence settles over the three of you as you all hold onto each other so tenderly. You know both males will do whatever they can to comfort you, should you ask them to, but right now, you also have other things on your mind. Mainly, moving passed this and getting on with your new life.

“So…” You spare a glance at each male surrounding you. “Weapons?”

Yeosang quirks a brow, “What would you like to start with?”

“You’re letting me choose?” Your eyes widen, and you cannot help the way you begin to bounce on your feet. 

At their nods, a large grin pulls at your lips.

“Is there something you have in mind?” Yunho asks, an eager tone to his inquiry.

Multiple weapons flash through your mind at once, and you bring a hand up to your chest in hopes to quell your racing heart. That’s when you remember the state of your shirt, or rather, your now non-existent shirt.

Humming in thought to yourself, you pull the last few scraps of material off of your body. Gently, you tuck the fabric beside your water bottle, leaving you in just your sports bra for the time being. Not that any of you really mind.

That’s when you get an idea.

“Well, it’d be best to start with something at least somewhat familiar, no?” You look between the two males before you.

“That would probably be best.” Yeosang nods in confirmation.

“Well, since I haven’t seen any of you use any of your weapons yet, I’ll stick with something I’ve used before.” You reply, a knowing grin tugging onto your features. “Could one of you please get me a bat?”

You can see the surprise on both of their features the instant you say this. Regardless, Yeosang makes a wooden baseball bat appear in his hand, presenting it to you almost immediately.

“A bat, Petal?” Yunho’s brow quirks.

“Listen, I don’t want to be playing around with something I don’t understand yet. No matter how badly I want to throw an axe, or stab something with a sword, it’s not worth the risk for my first try.” You reply, grabbing the wooden object from Yeosang’s outstretched hand. “This,” you shake the bat lightly, “at least I’m somewhat familiar with. The worst it can really do is break a few bones at the present.”

“Is that why you were going to use it to bash San’s kneecaps in with?” Yeosang’s eyes shine with nothing but amusement.

“I had a lot of pent up rage as a teenager.” You shrug, stepping back onto the sparring mat while letting the bat spin loosely in your hand. A blink, and you’ve allowed it to fall in a circle, the tip nearly touching the ground before you’re holding it upright in the air. “Reina and I spent a lot of time in rec rooms, smashing shit. Especially when the whole thing happened with her ex first year of university.”

“You’ve mentioned.” Yunho nods, recalling that conversation briefly in his mind.

“There’s a reason he takes my threats seriously.” You grin, stepping up before a fighting dummy.

You eye the test dummy, flipping the bat almost absentmindedly in your one hand.

“Should we be worried?” Yeosang chuckles, a pleasant shiver caressing his spine as he watches you handle that bat for the moment.

“It’s been a while, so potentially.” You shrug, solidifying your hold on the base. “The first few times I ever swung seriously, I kept accidentally letting the bat go. It would go flying across the room and into the wall.”

“We’ll stand behind you, then.” Yunho grins, an eager gleam in his eyes as he sees you beginning to weigh the bat in each of your hands.

Continuously, you do more spins with the bat, tossing it from hand to hand to get a better feel of the wood beneath your grip.

“I wonder how much worse my swing has gotten.” You say, almost absentmindedly to yourself. “It’s been a while. My aim’s also never been particularly good.”

“Oh, come on, Baby,” San’s voice suddenly coming from behind you has you jumping before you’re spinning around to face him. “You can’t be that bad if you’re confident enough to threaten me with it.”

Your eyebrow quirks, noticing all eight of them now standing behind you.

“You think we’re going to pass up the opportunity of seeing you hit something with a weapon for the first time?” Wooyoung grins, almost maniacally. “Not likely, Angel.”

“Didn’t realize I’d have an audience.” You mutter, tightening your grip on the base of that bat in your hand once more.

“We’re only here to encourage you, Starlight.” Mingi smiles, a proud nod to his head.

“Yunho also wouldn’t stop bragging about getting kicked in the face by you.” San adds, somewhat bitterly. “We’re also here to kick his ass afterwards."

You shoot a pointed look at Yunho.

“What?” He raises his hands in his own defence. “I told you already, Petal. It makes us proud knowing what you’re capable of.”

“He’s just hoping you’ll do it again.” Hongjoong hums, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Says the one begging to be stabbed all the time,” Seonghwa rolls his eyes.

“Just say you’re jealous and be done with it.” Jongho snorts, leaning against one of the racks with weights on them.

“Okay,” you huff out a small laugh, turning back around to face the fighting dummy.

Lowly, you can hear them continuing to bicker behind you, and the fact that you can hardly feel their attention lingering on you causes you to relax. Inhaling deeply, you fill your lungs with as much air as you can before slowly exhaling. Shuffling from foot to foot, you gently tap the tip of the bat against the side of your foot in preparation for what you’re about to do.

Raising the wooden object, you let it spin once more in your hand before you’re gripping it tightly in your hold. Lining up your shot, a crazed look takes over your features as you swing the bat to strike at the head of the dummy, letting your adrenaline drive you. The resulting crack fills the room on impact, and the dummy goes tumbling to the floor with little resistance.

Silence surrounds you, and all you can register is a loud ringing in your ears as your chest heaves with each breath. Your body stands over that fighting dummy, now laying face down on the floor, the bat resting at your side with the tip balanced upon the floor.

That felt good. Probably better than it should have for the moment.

You turn to face them, a gleeful giggle falling from your lips, “How was that?”

However, you do not expect the scene that greets you as soon as you turn around.

San has fallen to his knees, his chest heaving as his mouth rests open in shock. Wooyoung is right beside him, both his and San’s chests heaving as the younger supports himself using his one arm on the ground. Seonghwa has a hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder, steadying himself while the elder can only stand there, stunned, with his eyes as black as night. To his left, Jongho stands, barely holding himself upright against that rack of weights for the moment as Mingi attempts to steady himself against the wall. Both Yunho and Yeosang are not fairing much better, appearing as if they’ve stopped breathing for the time being.

They all look about ready to pounce on you. In a good way, of course.

“Uh…” you blink at them in shock.

A loud crash is heard as Jongho finally loses his balance, a weight tumbling to the ground as it dislodges from the rack. It lands unceremoniously on his foot, of which he immediately grabs, hopping around as curses fall from his mouth.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Immediately, you attempt to rush over to Jongho, only to get stopped by two males.

The breath escapes you as you go tumbling to the floor, the bat clattering onto the mat beside you. You hardly register anything for the moment except the sight of the ceiling above you, and the sound of low, pleased snarls filling the room and surrounding you from all angles.

A male rests on top of you, and you can feel yourself laying on top of another, both with their faces pressed into either side of your neck. Their pleased rumbles reverberate through your chest, every exhale they make tickling your skin. You swear they both begin nuzzling into you, too.

“Geez, if this is how you’re going to react every time I smack something, I think we’re going to need to put some rules in place.” You joke, an amused chuckle spilling from your lips as you see Hongjoong finally pull back from your neck to stare into your eyes.

“My Love, you cannot blame us.” There’s a hint of a growl to his words as his gaze swirls with that all too familiar darkness that you’ve become used to. “You must understand, we’ve been dreaming of this moment for a very long time.”

“What?” The corner of your lips quirks upwards. “Me smacking something with a bat?”

“You using any kind of weapon.” Seonghwa answers, his chest rumbling beneath you once more as his grip tightens against your hips.

He shifts beneath you, and you swear that you can feel something hard already pressing firmly into your ass.

Your breath hitches slightly, and you swear you feel him smirk against your skin.

“So, you really could have done some damage to San that day.” Yunho observes casually with a hum.

“Hey!” Said male whines, finally managing to stand back to his feet.

“I would have paid to see it.” Jongho says, replacing the fallen weight back onto the rack.

“You were the one who gave her the bat.” Mingi recalls.

“And I’d do it again!” The youngest replies, quite eagerly at that.

“Okay, so make sure there aren’t any bats around when we do anything to piss her off.” Wooyoung nods, somewhat to himself.

“More like, make sure you hide all the bats when you inevitably annoy her again.” Yunho teases, the others snickering along in agreement.

“Hey!” This time, it’s Wooyoung’s turn to whine.

“Woah, let’s not rule out the fact that I’m not gonna go around smacking you guys for the hell of it.” You chime in, gently guiding Hongjoong off of you for the moment, much to his displeasure.

“So, you don’t want to smack our asses?” Mingi quirks a knowing brow.

“If anyone wants to smack someone’s ass here, Min, it’s you.” You playfully roll your eyes, noticing how he suddenly averts his own gaze knowing damn well that you speak the truth.

“How did we go from baseball bats to smacking asses?” Seonghwa exhales a long sigh, helping you sit up beside him.

“It’s good for moral support.” San quips, Wooyoung immediately nodding along enthusiastically.

“You want me to spank you?” You look at them expectantly, noticing how red quite a few of them begin to get at your words.

Mingi begins to splutter.

“Well, if you’re offering,” Wooyoung smirks deviously, jutting out his hip slightly as if to put his ass on display.

This earns him a smack upside the head from Jongho, who suddenly cannot seem to meet your gaze.

“I mean, if you want me to,” you shrug, unaware of the commotion you’ve just started.

San and Wooyoung now appear to be wrestling on the ground, arguing about who’s going to get felt up first. Meanwhile, both Mingi and Jongho keep pushing each other back every time the other takes a step forward and towards you. Yunho laughs off to the side while both Seonghwa and Hongjoong begin bickering beside you. The only one you have yet to hear speak since this whole fiasco started is Yeosang.

Turning your head, you nearly jump when you see Yeosang crouched beside you. Silently, he presses a finger to his lips, helping you to your feet as you both slip away during the chaos erupting around you.

Carefully, Yeosang leads you to an area off to the side. It’s quite a long area, acting as a shooting range for target practice more than anything. Given how close it is to where you just were, you’re surprised none of the others have noticed your disappearance yet. Looks like they’re too busy bickering with one another to take note of your absence.

“Yeo?” You blink at him curiously, noticing how he moves around quickly, gathering a few things before standing directly in front of you.

“I had to get you away before they noticed.” He smiles, resting a quiver of arrows against the bench closest to you.

A bow rests in his left hand. It’s simplistic in design, and quite slim, but even you can tell that it’s carved from wood despite the smooth, black paint that covers the entirety of it.

“Are you going to shoot for me?” You cannot hide the excitement in your eyes.

“Perhaps.” A teasing quirk to his lips upwards. “Or maybe I intend for us to shoot together.”

Your breath hitches, a large grin painting your features as you giggle gleefully.

“You know, I’ve always loved archery.” You comment, barely able to prevent yourself from bouncing on your toes as you watch him grab an arrow from the quiver.

“I remember.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Would you like to watch me-“

“Yes.” There is no hesitation in your response, even as you clasp your hands over your chest hopefully. “I mean…” You clear your throat, noticing how he blinks at you in mild shock. “Please. I would love to.”

With those final words, you motion for him to continue.

A kind smile and a nod are all you get in response as Yeosang takes his position on the little shooting platform. Still, he holds that bow in his one hand, placing the arrow into the little nook before taking a deep breath to steady himself. Then, with a smooth precision that you’ve become so accustomed to from him, he lifts his weapon, lining up his shot with the target at the end of the track.

Every movement he makes, every breath he takes, you observe carefully. Your eyes never leave him, noting how focused he looks in this very moment. The string of the bow is pressed against the corner of his lips as he draws the arrow back, arms not so much as wavering even in the slightest in their hold. The line from the tip of the arrow to the end of his elbow is steady, and if you didn’t know him, you’d swear he was a statue rather than a living person in this very moment.

A breath, and the arrow is loosed.

The tip spears through the air, landing in a dull thunk as it meets its target across the way. Naturally, it lands dead centre.

Nothing but awe paints your features as you see him turn to you. Adoration is clear in your eyes as you watch him step up to you, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” You breathe, your hands still clasped in front of your chest.

“That truly means the world to me coming from you, Dearest.” Yeosang smiles softly, bringing his free hand up to gently cup your cheek. “I’m just glad I can finally share this with you.”

“I won’t lie, I’ve been looking forward to this since you mentioned teaching me that day at the mall.” Your lids flutter shut, leaning into his touch.

“Really?” He tilts his head slightly, thumb tenderly stroking along your cheek. At the way you hum in response, he steps in closer, breath ghosting the skin of your lips. “I’m glad.”

Softly, your eyes open to stare deeply into his own. He seems to be studying your every feature, nothing but fondness reflected in his gaze as he cannot help but keep sparing fleeting glances down at your lips.

Your tongue darts out to wet them, and you hear his breath hitch slightly in his throat.

“I always enjoy spending time with you, Yeo.” The admission is but a whisper on your lips, scared that if you speak any louder, you’ll disturb the moment between the two of you.

Faintly, in the background, you can still hear the other seven bickering about something or other. Not that you’re really paying attention to them at the moment.

“The feeling is, and always will be, mutual, My Queen.” He breathes out, leaning forward slightly to rest his forehead against your own.

Your heart flutters.

“Yeosang?”

He hums, tilting his head slightly forward so that his nose brushes against your own.

“Kiss me.”

Like every time before, you do not have to ask him twice.

How the press of his lips against your own always feels just like the very first time escapes you. Always, he holds you gently, pouring everything he is into the movement of his lips over your own. He cradles you close, loving how your own hands find purchase on his shoulders to steady yourself as he kisses your breath away.

It’s slow, and loving. Nothing more expected than what the other is willing to give. All the same, it makes your heart race, nothing but love flooding your veins as he holds you to him gently.

Slowly, he retracts, only for you to quickly press forward to peck his lips a few more times.

He chuckles, “Dearest.”

“You can’t blame me.” You hum, eyes fluttering open as you loop your arms around his neck. “You’re addictive, Yeosang.”

A pleasant shiver caresses his spine as he growls lowly. “I could say the same about you, My Queen.”

You giggle, and it’s still one of the most melodic sounds Yeosang has ever heard in his entire life.

“Now,” you hum, taking a minor step back while unlocking your arms from around his shoulders in order to stare at him eagerly. “Show me how to do that, please.”

Yeosang smiles, his heart thundering inside of his chest. “It would be my honour.”

A dull thud from behind you both draws your attention to see the other seven seemingly wrestling with each other for the moment. Yunho seems to have pinned Mingi on the mat, both Wooyoung and San going after Jongho at the same time. Hongjoong and Seonghwa seem to be attempting to choke the other out while standing on their feet, locked in a stalemate of sorts as chaos thrives around them.

A low chuckle escapes you as you shake your head. “I have a feeling they’ll be busy for a while.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Yeosang grins right along with you. Extending his free hand out to you, his eyes begin to shine, “Shall we?”

“We shall.” You immediately place your hand in his.

Gently, Yeosang guides you up onto that little platform with him, making sure to line you both up with a fresh target on the track.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see his first arrow still sticking proudly out of that first target off to the side.

“How much do you know about archery?” He asks, nothing but curiosity in his gaze as he grabs another arrow from the quiver.

“Honestly?” You take moment to think. “Not much. Other than what you’ve already told me.”

He nods, stepping in beside you as he offers you the bow.

“The hardest part to begin with can be finding enough strength to draw back the string.” He explains, noting how you carefully observe the bow and all its intricate details as soon as you have it in your hands. Your wonder and awe makes his heart skip a beat. “We can practice that a few times before you attempt to knock an arrow.”

“Okay.” Your eyes dart back up to meet his gaze, and you hear his breath catch in his throat yet again.

With a little help from Yeosang, he’s able to guide you on how to properly hold a bow.

“Don’t be afraid of it, Dearest.” He instructs. “You can cause far more damage with a bow than it can ever do to you while wielding it.”

A nod from you is all he receives that you understand his words.

For a few minutes, he has you practice lifting the bow into a shooting stance, and drawing the string back as if you’re about to take a shot. Still, he holds that arrow in his hand, watching on with nothing but loving pride in his eyes as you follow his every instruction with the utmost care.

“You’re doing wonderful, Dearest.” He grins, his gaze dripping with affection as he watches you absolutely revel in his praise. “You’re picking up things very quickly, especially the basics.”

You giggle, a subtle heat rising to your cheeks. “Well, I did spend a lot of time pretending to be an archer when I was younger. I may not have known much, but some of my favourite characters are, so I wanted to be just like them.”

Yeosang quirks a brow, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you avert your gaze, somewhat shyly. “Katniss, Kagome, Legolas. I always wanted a bow from the woodland realm when I was small. I thought the designs were beautiful, and like I said before, I’ve always had a fascination with archery.”

“Remind me to show you my collection soon, then.” He hums knowingly, a fond look dancing within his eyes.

Your whole demeanour perks up even further, “Okay!”

“For now, how about we shoot your first arrow?” There’s nothing but tender love in his gaze as he looks at you, seeing as you begin shaking lightly in excitement. “Deep breath, Dearest. You don’t want to be shooting with a shaky arm.”

You grin, nodding eagerly.

Following his instructions and taking a deep, steadying breath, you manage to calm your nerves slightly. Still, you cannot deny the excitement that courses through your veins as he hands you that singular arrow.

Gently, Yeosang instructs you on how to notch it before drawing it back.

“We can practice with you drawing from a quiver another time.” He says. “For now, let’s just keep it simple.”

“Sounds good.” You smile.

“Okay, Dearest,” he motions towards the target with his head. “Whenever you’re ready.”

A nod is all he receives in response as you take another deep breath.

Looking towards your feet, you take a moment to steady your nerves once more. Shifting your gaze, you study that target across the way, relaxing your shoulders just as Yeosang has instructed you to do. Raising the bow, you draw the string back, lining up your shot as best as you can.

The feeling of his eyes watching you is a little nerve wracking to say the least. You can feel your hands shaking as you attempt to steady your aim, holding your breath as your eyes focus in on the target at the end of the track. With each second that passes, you find it increasingly difficult to maintain the pull of the string, that thin band threatening to snap forward and through your grip at any moment.

There’s a furrow to your brow as you concentrate, but even you can tell how shaky you’ve suddenly become.

Softly, Yeosang moves behind you, placing his hands on your waist in comfort.

“Breathe, Dearest.” He whispers lowly into your ear, causing a shiver to caress your spine as his nose trails up the skin of your neck. “You’ve got this.”

Slowly, his hands begin to trail up your sides. Goosebumps erupt on your arms as you feel him cover your one hand holding onto the bow with his own, the other supporting your arm that’s drawing back the string. His chin rests on your shoulder, head leaning in the softest of touches against your own.

Suddenly, the string doesn’t become as difficult to hold onto anymore.

“Guide me.” His voice rumbles out. “We can make the shot together.”

The soothing timbre of his voice manages to calm you, and you find yourself taking another much needed deep breath. The heat of his body pressing against yours only adds to the moment, and you allow the familiar, comforting scent of sea island cotton to surround you.

You steady your hands.

The arrow is loosed in the blink of an eye, and you barely register the dull thunk of it sinking into the target across the way. All you can think about in this moment is how Yeosang’s hands feel settling back on your waist, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he buries his face into the side of your neck.

“See,” he hums lowly, squeezing your waist gently in his grip. “I knew you could do it."

Blinking to clear your vision, you allow your whole body to relax into his touch.

That’s when you see where your arrow has landed.

An involuntary excited squeal escapes you as you turn around in his hold.

“Sangie! Look!” You giggle, eyes crinkling at the sides with your joyous expression. “We hit bullseye!”

“You did that all by yourself, Dearest.” He grins, hands squeezing your hips gently once more. “I’m so proud of you.”

You begin wiggling happily in his hold, eyes falling shut as you smile wide.

“Leave it to Yeosang to steal everyone’s thunder.” Mingi grumbles from off to the side.

Turning your head, you see him standing with his arms crossed, a slight pout on his lips. The others don’t seem to be faring any better, but you’re too happy to care at the moment.

“Guys!” You bounce on your feet, pointing to the target at the end of the track. “Look!”

Several sets of eyes finally take note of the two targets side by side with arrows sticking out of the centre of each of them.

“Is one of those yours, My Love?” There’s a certain prideful gleam shining within Hongjoong’s eyes as he asks this.

At your vigorous nod, they have all the answers they need.

“That’s incredible, Baby!” San immediately rushes over to you, pulling you out of Yeosang’s embrace and into his own. He immediately lifts you in his arms, laughing along with you in your excitement, much to the elder’s annoyance.

“You did wonderful, Petal.” Yunho hums, being the next to walk over to you. Easily, he pulls San off of you, dragging him back in order for Yeosang to wrap you back into his arms once again.

A firm nod is sent to the taller male from Yeosang in thanks, to which Yunho simply smiles at in response.

A pout rests on San’s lips as he crosses his arms, only lessened by the fact that Wooyoung has to be held back by Jongho in the next second before the male tackles you to the ground in his excitement.

“It’s only because I have such a good teacher.” The way you turn and look back at Yeosang with nothing but fondness in your gaze says it all.

Soft rumbles shake their chests as they observe the scene before them, and they know for a fact that the loving look that resides on Yeosang’s features right this very instant is reflected on all of their own faces right now. Seeing you so happy, and so eager to learn even one of their chosen weapons has both a pride and love unlike ever before filling their chests. Emotions of which they will gladly indulge in when they’re with you, any and every time that they can.

“How was shooting an arrow for the first time, My Divine?” Seonghwa asks, an eager gleam to his eyes.

You smile, hands tightening subconsciously around that bow still held in your hands. You spare a glance down at the weapon. “Wonderful.”

“She’s a natural.” Yeosang hums, never tearing his eyes away from you for one second.

“I swear you’re just saying that.” You avert your gaze shyly, a vibrant heat rising to your cheeks.

“We’re not.” Wooyoung shakes his head almost instantly.

“You’re incredible, Starlight.” Mingi adds without a moment of hesitation.

“Our Perfect Queen.” Yunho’s voice rumble out, growls of agreement sounding around you immediately.

You allow for your eyes to flutter shut, revelling in this moment with all of them for as long as you can as you relax further into Yeosang’s embrace.

“My Lovely Kings.” The words are but a pleasant hum on your lips.

Again, eight low growls rumble out through the room. A smile pulls at your lips as the sound dissipates, allowing for a comfortable silence to settle over all of you.

“So,” Yeosang’s low voice by your ear has you blinking your eyes open, heart skipping a beat as you hear his next words, “Want to see my collection?”

[bitter-hibiscus]

I absolutely your Robin Jason headcannons, do you have any more? Maybe some Red Hood ones as well?

!!! im so happy to be getting these asks this is so fun

More Jaybin hcs (part one here):

He has a bunch of 1960s style clothes because Rena likes dressing like a mix of Amy Winehouse and Twiggy

baby goth in the making thanks to Natalia. she gives him a collection of Edgar Allen Poe's poems and he's just hook, line, and sinker into the subculture

He usually listens to metal bands but his guilty pleasure music is slow ballads and gayboy pop (think Kevin Atwater and Troye Sivan)

His favorite rogue to fight is KGBeast because of sentimentality, since KGB is the first rogue he ever defeated as Robin

He has pimples on his thighs and neck but somehow never on his face

He hates having his nails painted because of sensory issues, but lets Rena paint them anyway

His favorite of Dick's teammates is Vic, because he let Jason watch him fix one of Kori's alien weapons once, and he's super patient and kind and answers all of Jason's questions

Red Hood hcs:

Still mostly listens to metal but his favorite band is Rainbow Kitten Surprise (his favorite song is Finalist)

He has a journal where he writes shitty, angsty poetry with a fountain pen

He can never quite resist petting dogs during patrol, so there are multiple pictures online of Mafia Boss Red Hood playing with civilian's puppies

Has a tattoo of a wilded rose on top of his batarang scar to hide it. It's corny and ugly as hell but that was kind of the point. After he starts dating Rose he tells her it's because they were destined to meet. She gags every time

full-fledged romantic goth now. I'm talking manic panic white base, big eyeliner, and fake fangs. I'm talking huge messy hair with about a ton of hairspray. I'm talking "hates that every goth clothing he can find has bats on it"

His main mug is one of those corny millennial "don't talk to me until I've had my coffee" ones that Roy got for him during the outlaws. Jason uses it ironically but Roy thinks he also finds it funny

Sometimes when he's feeling nostalgic Jason will lay down on a rooftop and try to find where Oa is up in the sky, because he and Kyle looked for constellations together during Cosmic Mistake

Contrary to popular belief, his favorite superhero isn't Wonder Woman, it's Black Canary. Which is too bad because she hates his guts

Sent Sasha to live with an ex-con he trusted in South Dakota. He still sends her gifts often but they don't talk anymore since they realized how bad he was to her mental health

Deathstroke's #5 hater. Loses only to all 3 Wilson children (minus Res), Cassandra Cain, and Oliver Queen

Really wants to meet Connor Hawke because he was actually being genuine in GA Vol3 when he told Ollie he'd always wanted to meet him, and has since really really wanted to meet all of the Arrows even though none of them like him. He's the world's worst fanboy

Will do anything Talia asks of him but spits on Ra's face if he so much as looks in Jason's direction

Calls Damian "little prince" in Arabic (Amir Le-Zghir) specifically because of the book, but ALSO because it was what Willis called him when he was a child

Duke is his favorite bat because he isn't afraid to make fun of Jason, gets into a shit ton of trouble, and swears around Bruce like it's nothing

Whew, I think that's enough for a single post. Still have a lot more though lmao

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝐴𝑟𝑒 𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡, 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝐼 𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑡

Summary: No one in school could deny that Sebastian Sallow was in love with the new student, but also couldn't deny that he was a stupid with his confession plans... Would a birthday change it all?

Aka scenario mixed with headcanons about Sebastian absolutely being a lovely romantic with his feelings and doing something to prove his feelings to a certain important professor and the girl he loves.

A/N: I might write one with Ominis too, because they are both my lovely bois! But this one is already long as hell, so there will be a second part!

Against the contrary belief, Sebastian Sallow was never and is never gonna be a fratboy kinda man. Yes, he flirts but guess what?

Only with you, the absolute love of his life.

Now, Anne often teased him with being a hopeless romantic and said that girls wouldn't be that interested... Jokes on her, you were already down bad for him and that stupid smile whenever he achieved a certain hard potion.

I mean, come on... You wouldn't try to stand the pain of freaking Crucio for his sake, if you didn't feel anything for him.

Anyways back to the point, Anne was indeed grateful that there was someone who had her brother's back.

Someone that eased his thirst for Dark Arts and a blind suicide mission just to have a cure for her.

She was also happy that there would be someone else he could rely on, knowing he and their uncle didn't get along at all.

But couldn’t help from thinking that girl, come on... My awkward brother when it comes to romancing the girl he likes?

She was right tho

Sebastian, though he didn't know much about romance since his priorities lied somewhere else until you came along, relied on romance novels

First mistake he did

Reading Wuthering Heights proved to be a wrong move because a) he cried after reading it and b) he was starting to act like the characters

The first reality shifter in my opinion 😂

And now, our awkward boi had a plan to confess- Merlin knew if he didn't, he would soon loose you and it would break his already fragile heart, the one thing he hid from anyone.

And what was the best plan..?

Throw a birthday party and confess there.

But... Now there was another problem

What gift would be good enough for you?

“What to get her, what to get her..? What does she even like? Maybe books? No, too cliche... I'm sure she read all the books in here though-“

You see, for the first time, Sebastian Sallow was actually nervous. One might think the charming Slytherin boy could be anything but nervous, but when the mission on hand was the utmost importancy that held the key to his future and possibly the rest of his life that could either continue with bliss or pain, he couldn't really afford his focus to wander to other places.

“Sebastian, what are you doing?”

But of course, simple people-even if that said person was his best friend-, could never understand how this was a big deal.

“A very important mission, Ominis. Now, if you excuse me...” Sebastian muttered absentmindedly while the blonde boy tilted his head curiously since he never saw Sebastian so... dead-set on something, that had nothing to do with Anne’s curse.

How did he know, you ask? Well, he wasn’t begging him to go to that Scriptorium for the first time. And Ominis, as shocked as he was, just knew that it was something about the new student that came and a smug smirk found his face.

Oh, I knew Sebastian was attached to her... Wonder how long it will take for them to finally confess.

“I assume it has something to do with Y/N, the new friend of us? Maybe about her oncoming birthday even?” he teased Sebastian as he plopped down on the bed that was right next to Sebastian’s , feeling the brunette boy’s shocked stare on his face as he brought out his own wand to show him the gift he had already gotten for you.

“I thought you didn’t like her! Why did you even buy a gift?!”

Ominis looked at him dead in the eye, scoffing all the while putting the gift he has gotten for you away and changing back to his relaxing clothes. “Tame your jealousy, Sebastian... And no, I never said I hated her. I was just slightly irritated because you brought her to Undercroft without me knowing beforehand. But just so you know, we are really good friends now.” He stated as a matter of factly, and though Sebastian denied he was jealous, both young Slytherins knew the truth.

And just how much Sebastian was deep in the well of love.

“I’m not jealous, Ominis. You can buy her whatever you want, I was just curious since you are always snarky around her!” he let out a childish humph! while sitting on his green, silky bed and continued to write down all his plans and possible ideas for gift. He wouldn’t really say it out loud, not that he was embrassed... Or maybe he was, but not because it was you, he had obvious feelings for you for the first time ever.

It was hard for him to admit, but perhaps... He only needed a little push.

“Hmm, so it wouldn’t be a problem if I were to go and snatch he-“

And by the fast swoosh and the sudden thud sound, followed after a groan from the brunette boy, Ominis knew that he had caught him.

First of all, no he wasn't being too much with his reaction

Second of all, why would Ominis be ever interested in you?? When you were his...

Okay, so perhaps that was what made him halter and think about what he just thought and...

🌠fireworks 🌠

That was exactly how the realization felt like. His insides burnt, not a painful one but a very pleasant, warm fire he used to feel whenever he sat down in front of the fireplace... And that warnth made him realize the true expant of his feelings.

Most students, and even some teachers, told him how he was attached to you ever since you came to the school. How you and him were attached from the hips, and how you both looked at each other sweetly, though in secret.

He was possessive of you, was in awe of your kindness and care for everything and anything. After everything that happened, and now he admitfed how selfish and inconsiderate he was of you in the road to his sister's aid, he trully realized that you were more than a simple girl.

You let him do Crucio on you, a painful curse, and bear the pain of it alone. You used your magic for him, Ominis and Anne many times to the point of fainting and... He only used that kindness, took it granted and bever checked on you with his mind occupied with Anne.

It filled him with immense sadness and guilt, making him feel ashamed at the way he treated you as if you didn't mean everything to him. As if you weren't his whole heart and soul. As if your kindness wasn't what lightened his dark life.

And then, the most recent memory of you erupted, a few days before everything went shit... A memory, which made his heart clench in love and longing.

"Why are you sitting away from me?" You turned your head to Sebastian who already was seated next to you, a frown pulling on his annoyingly handsome face and you smiled. Because that was what you had been doing whenever you were close to him, with his dorky face and stupid jokes that never failed to make you crack a tiny smile.

He made your heart fill with... as much as you didn't want to accept, love and safety. You felt more alive with him, as if you would be able to do anything with him there.

Your body and soul, heart all together existed only when he touched you.

This is what we call love. When you are loved, you can do anything in creation. When you are loved, there's no need at all to understand what's happening, because everything happens within you.

You could feel yourself through him, and it was... scary, how in rhythm you were with him. How well cordinated you were together, basically impossible to stop as a duo. He always had an eye on you, moreso after what happened with his uncle. You saw the guilty eyes he always seemed to have, how he was acting around as if he was walking on eggshells and how much... responsible he had become.

Before everything that happened, you and Ominis had to force him to attend class in time and do his homework, often making him trail after you two whenever you and Ominis would study late in the library secretly. And the shocking part, he always got good grades from almost every single one of them and that shocked all the teachers.

We didn't know you had it in you, Mister Sallow...

One sentence that freaked not him, but all three of you. That was when you thought this was it, that they would ask what was going on but instead they only replied with I see that your friends are helping you out! I knew one day you would come around.

Yeah... Friends.

Friends who watched the other get lost in the darkness.

Friend who sacrificed every bit of her for her crush, no... the boy she loved, but got treated like a punchbag.

A friend who had to stop his best friend from commiting crimes and comfort the other, a friend who blamed himself for ever introducing Sebastian to Dark Magic.

And amidst all... A friend who was so close to loosing everything.

Yeah, definetly friends...

"Nothing Sebastian. Nothing is wrong really. I just didn't want to make uncomfortable since you are left-handed." He didn't like how awkward and shy your voice sounded, and definetly didn't like how these words were something you always said even when you were in pain... The proof of his not-so-there care.

But he also didn't know whether to scoff, scold you, laugh or cry at your reason either. He told you many times that it was fine and he wasn't uncomfortable, something you would answer with but you always get angry with other whenever they anger you over it.

You could really never realize his feelings, couldn't you?

"You... sure? Did I do something? Anything lately?"

Ah, suddenly... I hate being early to the lesson and is he coming closer to me?

"I'm sure, Seb... Why would I even lie?" You gave him a kind of awkward smile as he raised a brow at you, looking between the two of you. His insides told him otherwise, but he feared he would drive you away if he asked more.

And it was the last thing he wanted, the last thing he needed...

Merlin knew he would be gone for food if you left him too...

"No reasons, just... We are still due to the Hogsmeade, right?"

Perhaps you should have said no and return back to what you were doing, avoid him and his handsome face that did nothing except haunting you and gave you butterflies whenever your eyes laid on him...

Loving him will end you, Poppy once said to you. Worrying for you and your heart, bless her soul. Sebastian was like mad honey, you always thought of him like that. Mad honey eased many pains in one's body, was healthy for the body, strengthening the heart and making the person who ate it stronger than before...

But it also burnt while eating, damaged the heart rhytm, caused hallucinations and caused pain if one ate more than necessary... And in se rare cases... It resulted with death even.

The worst part? It was so addictive that the person couldn't stop themselves from eating it after one point.

And Poppy feared that would be what happens, if you didn't stop yourself. She didn't hate Sebastian, he was actually noce to her from the beginning and even helped around whenever he had time. But she knew his reputation around the school as well, and was scared if he would hurt you.

Him suddenly acting all nice and responsible didn't help either.

But what no one really realised is... You were already a goner for him.

And even after all the hurt he put you through... He was now aware of them, actively trying to be better.

How could you avoid him when he is the biggest part of your life?

"Yes, Sebastian... Of course we still are. I can't wait to spend more time with you..." you turned to him with your usual smile that blinded him and made him blush, cooing internally at your adorableness and he gave the same smile back, if not... A much more relaxed one that gave away how relieved he was to hear you were still there and didn't plan on leaving him.

But that smile soon faltered when you frowned at something behind him, making him turn and... eventually scream in fright.

"Is that... Ominis?" You looked at Sebastian with wide eyes, cautiously walking to where the slumped figure of the blonde who worked two jobs, being a student and keeping an eye out for you two, was leaned over the wall behind him. You clutched your chest thightly, the sight of Ominis' open eyes scaring you, and you waved your hand slowly in front of him. You let out a surprised squeak when Ominis did nothing except letting out a snore and shook your head softly at him all the while Sebastian was busy with trying to get you back to his side.

"Merlin's beard! He sleeps with his eyes open!"

"I mean... He can't see either way?"

"It's still scary Y/N! You don't know how frightening it is when I wake up and see him looking at me, sleeping with those eyes open!" You laughed loud at Sebastian's trully frightened look, slapping a hand to your mouth to not wake Ominis up. You were glad to see Sebastian so... like how he was before and seeing the three of you were still the chaotic duo made hope blossom in your heart and made the fairies sing love songs and ring chimes happily...

Alongside with Ominis' cute snoring, who wasn't aware of anything.

Ahhh, yes... I would be nothing without these two dorks...

So, going to Hogsmeade was never a problem. You three always hang around there, Ominis usually dragging you both to Honeydukes while Sebastian dragged you to Three Broomsticks

There were times they had to listen to you tho

For example letting you drag them to have a picnic and have fun in the river by teying to catch some fishes or splash water at each other

All three of you were drenched after one time you did this, and Professor Matilda was angry at you three for a whole week.

Not because she hated you all or something, but because she was worried you three would get sick.

Secretly, she loved you three the most amongst all the students and saw you as her children... Especially knwoing your family status'.

But mama bear was flabbergasted when the two boys were bedridden but you were all fine, attending classes and even explaining them to the sick boys and volunteering to do their homeworks as well.

"I was gonna do mine as well, why wouldn't I do yours?"

But if mama Matilda was good at reading people, she was even better at reading young people in love

And she saw right through Sebastian and you as well. All those stolen glances and shy touches didn't pass through her glasses at all.

And, as the matchmaker of Hogwarts, she gave you two a day off to Hogsmeade after doing so well in your classes...

And so that you two might grow some pairs and confess already, she had a going bet with the grumpy Sharp and she wasn't going to loose it!

"What's your favourite color, young lady? Just say it so that I shall give you what your heart desires, as a gift to you of course."

Well, not every day you had the chance of hearing a seller ask this kind of question. And definetly not when you were looking for gifts or having a stroll with your bestfriend, who-would-never-love-you type of man.

"Uhm... Excuse me?"

"Your favourite color! I make little lockets and gifts based on a person's favourite memory, colord and such! And today'a lucky customer is you, darling girl!" Slightly old lady exclaimed happily, showing off everything she had done in the past and though you took a step back at the amount of them, you couldn't help but let out a wow at the significant details in all of them, which made the woman puff her chest out proudly.

It probably wouldn't hurt to try, right?

"Brown... Brown is my favourite color." The woman tilted her head curiously at your choice, making her magic work as your eyes drifted to Sebastian who was busy having a mild argument with one of the ladies over a necklace, giggling at how that act screamed Sebastian.

"Hmm, interesting choice... May I ask why?"

" It reminds me of autumn... The early hours when the sun's light reflect off of the soil and create the most beautiful auburn color and... His eyes..." Your eyes stayed locked onto where Sebastian was busy picking some jewelry as a gift to Anne, lips pulled in a frown as he looked at every single one of them with a seriousness you rarely saw.

But your eyes travelled away from his face and your mind took a sharper turn.

Those new uniforms need to be illegal... He is too good-looking in them...

His white shirt hugged his arms and chest quite well, showing off the muscle he had built after years of training and fighting. They were daunt and probsbly well-defined, you could tell whenever he hugged you or wrapped them around you protectively...

I'm down bad for him... Is that even oka-

"Ahh, youngsters... Always having other ideas with their significant others..." the seller let out a sigh softly as she looked behind her to where you were looking, understanding the situation fast as she gave a teasing smirk. Damn, I forgot she was able to see my mind...

"Uhm... I'm sorry, I can't help it..." you mumbled shyly, not daring to look at her as you accepted the two lockets to you. The open one, your eyes stayed on and your heart flipped at the scene that was inside it. There it was, the day when you surprised him with a little get-away, only the two of you and jumped on his back when he didn't expect it, drenching both of you as the sun kissed his freckles and casted the most beautiful gleam over his face...

But there was one more...

You frowned at her at realizing the other locket, after all you definetly didn't tell her to make two of them.

"But... I didn't want a second-"

"I know, sweetheart... They are my gifts to you and your boyfriend. You two look lovely together." She patted your hand sweetly, urging you to accept it and smiled when you accepted them rather shyly.

"I-I... He isn't my boyfriend..." you put the lockets back in your pouch and gave a thankfull smile to the old lady begore catching up to Sebastian who beamed at the sight of you, telling you how there was a lady insisting on buying two necklaces he set his eyes on.

As you listened to him and took his arm and looped yours with his, you weren't aware how his heart beated hard at the peaceful smile over your face. You didn't know how he started to sweat nervously and stuttered slightly either or how badly he wanted to kiss your plush lips, wondering how kissing you would feel like...

And you definetly didn't know what happened before he came to collect you that day either, the memories of what he talked with Professor Fig still clear in his mind.

[ossidae-passeridae]

I'd be fascinated to hear more about gnosticism in tlt if you ever feel like writing about it.

I honestly don't know what's already been written r.e. gnosticism and TLT, so might be reinventing the wheel here, but I'll do a brief description of the overarching themes present throughout the books?

The uh, first layer of the gnosticism onion, as it were.

So to start this off I'm going to give a broad and at least partially incorrect overview of gnosticism:

Gnosticism is a tenth century mess that's loosely based off of Christianity, but then gets Weird. Thanks to some fun political situations in the Gulf, the Christians in the South were isolated from other Christians for decades thus spun off wildly from "mainstream" Christianity. We mostly have fragments left, and a lot of them contradict each other, so working out exactly what they believed/meant is Very Fun and also Somewhat Impossible. (Like the fragments of documents left in Canaan House, you could say...)

That being said, parts of their beliefs we do know better than others. They have the bible, of course, but on top of that they also have this pre-Bible creation myth regarding how God came to be in the first place.

It goes something like: In The Beginning there was a sort of primordial god-soup. This god-soup occasionally emits binary pairs of entities, also known as aeons and (later) twin flames. These binary pairs are two souls made for one another and with one another, and together they are balanced, and perfect, and full of Holy Light(tm). Each binary pair had one grammatically-masculine name, and one grammatically-feminine name. These names do not necessarily relate to perceived gender, and in fact the binary pairs are often referred to as if they are Beyond Gender Altogether. (*stares pointedly at the Lyctors*, *stares even more pointedly at Gideon's name*) [I could probably write a whole thing on this alone, honestly, they're sometimes referred to as like, the fingers on God's hand which, yeah.]

Anyway, in this pure and godly space, there is no matter, only Holy Light. But one of the entities, known as Sophia, goes off on her own and interacts with the shadowy chaos that exists outside of the godly soup. She's half of a whole, unbalanced. And through her meddling she (unintentionally) creates another half that's not pure and holy and full of godly light, but instead a dark reflection of what he Should Be. This is generally referred to as the Demiurge.

Unlike all these other beings, the Demiurge is made of matter. He is the first thing of matter to exist and he looks around the void that he's birthed into, bare aside from him, and concludes that he and he alone is God. (Hi Jod)

Then he makes earth, and heaven, and a bunch of other things besides, the things we know as the universe today. In the immortal words of Douglass Adams — this has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.

The problem is — all of these things that the Demiurge has created are made of matter. And being made of matter, they're cut off from the light of Godness (which is incorporeal and made of Pure Energy), thus inherently flawed. What's more, they're never meant to have existed in the first place. The Demiurge is tormented by his failure, but unable to create anything that is not inherently Wrong. (oh look it's the Nine Houses, I'd bet money that there's a link between being cut off from Godly Light and the Nine Houses being the only stable thanergenic planets here)

Sophia, who has watched these unintended consequences unfold and the suffering they've caused, cannot undo what's been done, but she can descend into the material world to share the light of wisdom and try to alleviate what suffering she can. So she does.

The story culminates with Christ being born and teaching all of humanity Gnosis — a special, mystical knowledge that can only come from the Divine, we are not really given specifics here — before he's sacrificed in order to make humanity's ascent beyond their material prison possible.

So that's the broad strokes of gnosticism as a religion, and also first layer of the TLT gnosticism onion. Just the really broad spectrum thematic *waves hands around* Stuff. I've refrained from speculating on the end because until Alecto comes out we really don't know.

If you want anything more specific anon, let me know?? I've been in the gnosticism soup for so long I can't always tell what's common knowledge and what isn't.

[ewingstan]

On the End of Claw, pt 1.

So this is gonna cover my thoughts on Claw's final three chapters. I don't think Claw's ending was especially bad, but I do think it picked an odd note to end on, and had to contort itself awkwardly to even reach that note in the first place in a way that really hurt its execution. In this part, I'm gonna talk about the structural problems around Claw's ending. In the next part, I'll focus on the last chapter and Mia's "trial."

Its been noted that Mia has some character similarities to Taylor in terms of a willingness to act ruthlessly and without apparent remorse. Perhaps as a result, it seems like Wildbow wanted to give Mia a similar ending to Taylor: a space where she attempts to explain herself, confront everything she's done, and consider whether it was worth it. It feels like a dark echo of Taylor's talk with Contessa; giving her an unfair audience rather than one who acted much the same way, but similarly wanting the ending note to be her concluding that she her ruthless actions weren't all worth it to her.

But if that was the intent, the surrounding structure of Claw ensured that it wouldn't land nearly as well. Worm's ending is such that its climax perfectly sets up its Taylor's conversation with Contessa. After all, the climax was Taylor doing something truly awful to a lot of people for the greater good—what she'd been doing the entire book, but brought to its most extreme point. It made sense to follow that up with an exploration of whether it was worth it—the book had been asking if what Taylor was doing was "worth it" the whole time, and it was an especially relevant question when applied to Gold Morning.

Compare this to Claw, and the way the ending focused on Mia asking whether or not she was monstrous. That had certainly been a question brought up by many characters throughout the whole story. But unlike Worm, it wasn't a question that was a relevant consideration in the wake of the climax. As the story presented us with the final confrontation of our leads against Davie Cavalcanti, we'd largely moved past the question of whether Mia was monstrous. Sure, Natalie was still concerned with it, but that was framed as a flaw that was preventing her from helping Ripley.

In fact, the thematic stuff surrounding the treatment of Ripley had really superseded anything surrounding Mia's "essential nature" as the key thing to explore. Ripley getting taken by Natalie and ripped away from her happy life got framed by the narrative as the same sort of violation as her later abduction and mutilation by Davie. Natalie's development all centered on her considering Ripley's needs as a person over her status as Natalie's daughter. Ben's chapters had largely been about how his worldview, a belief in the necessity of preserving the parental role, requires him to ignore incongruous observations about how children are harmed when that role is exercised. The permissibility of Mia's actions are still floating around as a theme, but its only a small part of the now much larger theme of deconstructing the parent relationship, and the moral weight of Ripley's agency. Addressing those themes directly (which 6.5 is partially concerned with, if not 6.6) would thus better serve as a satisfactory cap to the climax.

Mia's moral character, in contrast, was not a particularly relevant aspect by the time we reach the end. That becomes clear when you see how much 6.5 had to redirect things to make the question even relevant. In this regard, that penultimate chapter feels like the real weak point in the execution of Claw's finale. Its little substance, all connective tissue, and suffers a lot from none of those connections getting fleshed out. Natalie's revolving heel-face-heel positioning is a big part of this: It's strange to go from her characterization in the second half of 6.4—recognizing that hasn't been prioritizing Ripley's well-being and making a big sacrificial play in response—to her characterization in 6.5, where she's threatening to damn Ripley's chance at a normal life simply to get at Mia. Its a beat that's needed to push Mia towards making the mistake that gets her caught, but because of how it seems to contradict her earlier growth, it doesn't feel like anything more than a a plot-necessity.

The frustrating thing is that I think Natalie's "regression" could have been executed well. After all, its one thing for Natalie to decide to selflessly help Ripley and make a sacrificial play. But after unexpectedly surviving, the difficulty of continually making the smaller everyday sacrificial plays of working with Mia—that's something else entirely. The singular grand gesture is always easier to make than the prolonged effort.

But to sell that Natalie couldn't handle this larger, continued sacrifice, you'd probably need another chapter in her perspective. Let us stew in Natalie seeing that she was still losing Ripley even after everything, see how its more difficult to sacrifice something if she has to live with it missing from her life afterwards. Without that—without anything to explain the jump in her attitude from 6.4 to 6.5—it feels more like Natalie is just behaving however she needs to for the story to reach the intended conclusion.

(Which you know, she is. They all are, that's what characters do in stories. Its not bad for them to behave in ways that serve to drive the plot forwards rather than be perfect simulations. But their behavior still need verisimilitude, dammit.)

Mia, meanwhile, gets the almost self-parodying beat of going for one last child-napping. Again, I think this could work if it was built up more—have her ask herself whether she'd made things worse by helping Ben use the Civil Warriors against the Cavalcantis, wonder about whether she has a responsibility to do anything about it. Have her worry about the kid she rescued from the gunfire—was it wrong to just return her to her parents, when they'd brought her to a race riot? Isn't that much more irresponsible than leaving her in a hot car? Instead, we learn she was doing this only after a chapter of seeing her worry about Ripley drifting away, its explanation coming in conjunction with her explaining her plan to get Ripley away from Natalie. The framing implies that she only acted in order to retain the image of herself as a mother saving children from dangers. It makes sense to position that as a non-trivial part of her motivation, but framing it as the main motivation honestly feels like a disservice to her character.

Again, both these plotpoints could have worked if executed better. But then, what were they executed in service for? Clumsily delivering Mia to her character trial, when the themes driving the story had developed past such a trial feeling relevant.

Still, we have the trial. And there were parts of it I thought were very well-executed for what it was. But the "what-it-was" has issues even above what I covered here.

Continued in part 2.

[violetasteracademic]

i don't know why "you are the new ribbon az" is turned into something romantic. after the interaction gwyn and azriel had in the bonus chapter gwyn immediately saw the ribbon as an opponent.

"Gwyn nodded her farewell, again facing the ribbon. A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone."

if azriel=ribbon, then gwyn was showing her true feelings for azriel through the ribbon after she stopped talking charmingly to him.

Hello anon!!

While I always want to come from the most well informed place as possible, I must admit I am someone who does not wade into the pools of anti Elriel tags. Thus, I get the majority of the information about what Az and G/wyn shippers are using as evidence against my will, or from my real human friends who ship them but are not deep in the trenches. For them, it really doesn't go deeper than: I'm neutral about L/ucien and Elain so they might as well be paired off but I love G/wyn and Az so I want them to be together. Fair.

So- I'm kinda spinning my wheels here, but I will say some recurring themes I have noticed with my limited exposure is this:

Much of the G/wynriel ship is centered around the idea of symbolic transference. This logic is actually not flawed in of itself, and is an extremely common literary device. However, in the current story, it relies on creating narrative context where it doesn't exist and erasing the context that does exist for it to make sense.

What I mean is this:

I understand there to be a belief that Elain returning Truth-Teller at the end of ACOWAR was symbolic transference that reflected that Elriel's developing relationship was over because she was symbolically "giving Azriel back and not turning back." Then started "opening up" to L/ucien. The context that this lacks is that we have two more books following this where they did not in fact end, but grow. And Elain did not, in fact, open up to L/ucien but further shrank around him and snapped about him not being entitled to her her affection and time just because he was a nice boi bringing her presents.

There is a belief that Azriel regifting the necklace was the symbolic transference of Azriel's confirmed romantic feelings for Elain to G/wyn.

I can only assume that, because so much of the thought process relies on a belief in the employment of this literary device, symbolic transference also somehow needed to be applied to G/wyn, and the ribbon was all that could even remotely apply.

I think what is missing from all of this, apart from the obvious which is that Azriel and Elain are feral for each other, is that this type of literary device is typically applied symbolically at the culmination of the story and character arcs. Think of when Aelin returned her amethyst ring to Chaol. She had an entire book with Rowan, away from Chaol, reflecting on their relationship, developing feelings for her end game romantic interest and finally becoming the lost Queen of Terrason and quite literally learning to move away from her human body- the one that Chaol had loved.

She finds her path, her purpose, her future, and after all of this, she finally lets go of what she has been holding on to. She returns the ring.

Elain and Azriel have not had their story yet, and this is where the holes lie. For any of this to be foreshadowing or the literary device that people are assigning to it, the cart is being placed before the horse. The food is being served raw.

If Elain and Azriel did not have a story in development, there would be no need for all of these little items to symbolically represent the end of their story. It actually has to happen first for these little details to mean what they are being interpreted to mean, and then we look back and say, oh, how clever, when Elain gave Truth-Teller back, it's because she was ready to let go. When Azriel regifted the necklace, it's because in two pages and the interference of a third characer, he moved on from her.

But if Elain and Azriel in fact ended off page in a bonus chapter due to symbolic transference of a relationship, absolutely nothing will land as intended. Which, again, is where it gets messy. Elain returning the knife didn't end of Elriel's budding romantic interest. So that piece gets taken out. Azriel regifting the necklace to G/wyn was not based on his emotional growth as a character and his maturing and finding himself and learning he is not interested in perusing a woman he is forbidden from seeing, so that gets taken out.

Which leaves us the ribbon. And looking at the other perceived literary devices, we have to ask- what is Gwyn transferring?

Azriel giving Elain Truth-Teller was romantic.

Azriel gifting Elain her necklace was romantic.

Both of those moments are being used to symbolize the literal transference of romantic affection.

Was G/wyn... romantically interested in the ribbon? Was she attracted to the ribbon? But she realized she couldn't have the relationship she wanted with the ribbon, so now she is symbolically transferring her feelings for the ribbon to the better choice, Azriel?

Context, friends. Context. Unless we are suggesting that G/wyn was in fact in a romantic relationship with the ribbon, the symbolism and assumption of the employed literary device does not even make sense. You cannot employ transference with nothing to...well... transfer.

Thanks all I've got for this one! Stay kind out there, fam.

[thesiltverses]

I don’t know who types up the ask answers on this blog but to whoever’s reading this: how do you all feel about being alive and sentient? What keeps you going, what purpose propels you through this chaotic void? What do you think (or hope) waits for you after your inevitable end? What do you think constitutes a life well lived?

I'm going to answer this in the most wayward and stupidly overlong manner possible, because the previous ask had me thinking about puppets, and I was already mid-way through writing up a book recommendation that's semi-relevant to your questions.

Everyone (but especially people who've enjoyed The Silt Verses and all the folks on Tumblr who loved Piranesi by Susanna Clarke) ought to seek out Riddley Walker by Russell Hoban.

Riddley Walker is a wild and woolly story set in post-apocalyptic Kent, where human society has (d)evolved into a Bronze Age collective of hunter-gatherer settlements. Dogs, apparently blaming us for our crimes against the world, have become our predators, hunting us through the trees. Labourers kill themselves unearthing ancient machinery that they cannot possibly understand.

A travelling crowd of thugs led by a Pry Mincer collect taxes and attempt to impose themselves upon those around them with a puppet-show - the closest possible approximation of a TV show - that tells a mangled story of the world's destruction, featuring a Prometheus-esque hero called Eusa who is tempted by the Clevver One into creating the atomic bomb.

Riddley himself, a twelve-year-old folk hero in-the-making surrounded by strange portents, ends up sowing the seeds of rebellion and change by becoming a conduit for the anti-tutelary anarchic madness (one apparently buried in our collective unconscious) of Punch 'n' Judy.

It's a book in love with twisted reinterpretation, the subjectivity of interpretation, buried or forbidden truths coming back to light (the opening quote is a curious allegory about reinvention and cyclical change from the extra-canonical Gospel of Thomas, which is a good joke and mission statement on a couple levels at once) and human beings somehow stumbling into forms of wisdom or insight through clumsy and nonsensical attempts to make sense of a world that is simply beyond them.

It rocks.

The book starts like this:

On my naming day when I come 12 I gone front spear and kilt a wyld boar he parbly the las wyld pig on the Bundel Downs any how there hadnt ben none for a long time befor him nor I aint looking to see none agen. He dint make the groun shake nor nothing like that when he come on to my spear he wernt all that big plus he lookit poorly. He done the reqwyrt he ternt and stood and clattert his teef and made his rush and there we wer then. Him on 1 end of the spear kicking his life out and me on the other end watching him dy. I said, 'Your tern now my tern later.'

Riddley's devolved language - a trick which has been nicked/homaged by many other works, most notably Cloud Atlas and Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome - is a masterwork choice which may seem offputting or overwhelming at first, but which has its own brutal poetry and cadence to it, and ultimately which makes us slow down as readers and unpick the wit, puns, double-meanings and playful themes buried in line after line.

(Even those first five sentences get us thinking about cyclical change, ritual and myth in opposition to the dissatisfactions of reality, and 'tern' to paradoxically indicate a rebellious change in direction but also an obedient acceptance of inevitable death.)

In one of my favourite passages in literature and a statement of thought that means a lot to me, Riddley has been smoking post-coital weed with Lorna, a 'tel-woman', who unexpectedly declares her belief in a kind of irrational, monstrous Logos that lives in us, wears us like clothes, and drives us onwards for its own purpose:

'You know Riddley theres some thing in us it dont have no name.' I said, 'What thing is that?' She said, 'Its some kynd of thing it aint us but yet its in us. Its lookin out thru our eye hoals...it aint you nor it dont even know your name. Its in us lorn and loan and shelterin how it can.' 'Tremmering it is and feart. It puts us on like we put on our cloes. Some times we dont fit. Some times it cant fynd the arm hoals and it tears us a part. I dont think I took all that much noatis of it when I ben yung. Now Im old I noatise it mor. It dont realy like to put me on no mor. Every morning I can feal how its tiret of me and readying to throw me a way. Iwl tel you some thing Riddley and keap this in memberment. What ever it is we dont come naturel to it.' I said, 'Lorna I dont know what you mean.' She said, 'We aint a naturel part of it. We dint begin when it begun we dint begin where it begun. It ben here befor us nor I dont know what we are to it. May be weare jus only sickness and a feaver to it or boyls on the arse of it I dont know. Now lissen what Im going to tel you Riddley. It thinks us but it dont think like us. It dont think the way we think. Plus like I said befor its afeart.' I said, 'Whats it afeart of?' She said, 'Its afeart of being beartht.'

While Hoban is, I think, deeply humanistic to his bones and even something of a wayward optimist, the notion of human beings as helpless and ignorant vessels, individual carriers - puppets, if you like - for an unknowable and awful inhuman power-in-potentia and life-drive that lacks a true shape or intent beyond its own continued survival (even when that means destroying us or visiting us with agonising atrophy in the process) conjures up the pessimism of Thomas Ligotti, another big influence on our work and a dude who was really into his marionettes-as-metaphor.

Let's go to him now for his opinion on the thing that lives beneath our skin. Thomas?

Through the prophylactic of self-deception, we keep hidden what we do not want to let into our heads, as if we will betray to ourselves a secret too terrible to know… …(that the universe is) a play with no plot and no players that were anything more than portions of a master drive of purposeless self-mutilation. Everything tears away at everything else forever. Nothing knows of its embroilment in a festival of massacres… Nothing can know what is going on.

Curiously, both Ligotti and Riddley Walker have appeared in the music of dark folk band Current 93, whose track In The Heart Of The Wood And What I Found There directly homages the novel and ends with the repeated words,

"All shall be well," she said But not for me

These words, in turn, hearken back to Kafka's* famous reported conversation with Max Brod:

'We are,' he said, 'nihilistic thoughts, suicidal thoughts that rise in God's head.' This reminded me of the worldview of the gnostic: God as an evil demiurge, the world as his original sin. 'Oh no', he said, 'our world is only a bad, fretful whim of God, a bad day.' 'So was there - outside of this world that we know - hope?' He smiled: 'Oh, hope - there is plenty. Infinite hope, just not for us."

So, we walk on.

We carry this thing that's riding on our backs, endlessly bonded to it, feeling its weight more and more with every passing day, unable to turn to look at it. Buried truths come briefly to life, and are hidden from us again. Perhaps they weren't truths at all. We couldn't stand to look the truth directly in the eyes in any case.

If there is hope, it's for the thing that looks out from our eyeholes, which thinks us but cannot think like us. We'll never get to where we're going, and the thing will never be born. There's no hope for it. Perhaps we don't want it to win anyway. It's nothing, and the key to everything.

The Jesus from the Gospel of Thomas says:

'When you see your own likeness, you rejoice. But when you see the visions that formed you and existed before you, which do not perish and which do not become visible - how much then will you be able to bear?'

Kafka, writing to his father, begins by expressing the inexpressibility of his own divine terror:

You asked me why I am afraid of you. I did not know how to answer - partly because of my fear, partly because an explanation would require more than I could make coherent in speech…even in writing, the magnitude of the causes exceeds my memory and my understanding.

Kafka concludes that while he cannot ever truly explain himself, and that the accusations in his letter are neat subjectivities that fail to account for the messiness of reality, perhaps 'something that in my opinion so closely resembles the truth…might comfort us both a little and make it easier for us to live and die.'**

It doesn't bring comfort to Kafka, whose diarised remarks both before and after the 1919 letter make it clear that he views his relationship with the things (people) that birthed him as an endless entrapment that prevents him from attaining any kind of self-actualisation or even comfort, since he cannot escape their influence or remember a time before them:

I was defeated by Father as a small boy and have been prevented since by pride from leaving the battleground, despite enduring defeat over and over again.

It's as if I wasn't fully born yet...as if I was dissolubly bound to these repulsive things (my parents).*** The bond is still attached to my feet, preventing them from walking, from escaping the original formless mush. That's how it is sometimes.

Samuel Beckett returns again and again (aptly) to this pursuit of a state of true humanity and final understanding that is at once fled and unrecoverable, yet to be born, never to be born, never-existed, endlessly to be pursued, pointless to pursue. From the astonishing end sequence of The Unnameable:

alone alone, the others are gone, they have been stilled, their voices stilled, their listening stilled, one by one, at each new-com- ing, another will come, I won’t be the last. I’ll be with the others. I’ll be as gone, in the silence, it won’t be I, it’s not I, I’m not there yet. I’ll go there now. I’ll try and go there now, no use trying, I wait for my turn, my turn to go there, my turn to talk there, my turn to listen there, my turn to wait there for my turn to go, to be as gone, it’s unending, it will be unending, gone where,where do you go from there, you must go somewhere else, wait somewhere else, for your turn to go again

I’m not the first, I won’t be the first, it will best me in the end, it has bested better than me, it will tell me what to do, in order to rise, move, act like a body endowed with despair, that’s how I reason, that’s how I hear myself reasoning, all lies, it’s not me they’re calling, not me they’re talking about, it’s not yet my turn, it’s someone else’s turn, that’s why I can’t stir, that’s why I don’t feel a body on me, I’m not suffering enough yet, it’s not yet my turn, not suffering enough to be able to stir, to have a body, complete with head, to be able to understand, to have eyes to light the way

From Thomas' Jesus:

When you make the two one, and you make the inside as the outside and the outside as the inside and the above as the below, and if male and female become a single unity which lacks 'masculine' and 'feminine' action, when you grow eyes where eyes should be and hands where hands should be and feet where feet should stand and the true image in its proper place, then shall you enter heaven.

Tom's Jesus makes a particularly Gnostic habit of both insisting that the hidden will be revealed and demonstrating the impossibility of attaining a state where the hidden ever can be revealed. Contrary to C.S. Lewis, we will never have faces with which to gaze upon the lost divine and the mysteries that shaped us, and crucially, as Christ puts it, we would not be able to bear the sight of ourselves if we did.

We will never become the thing that's riding on our backs.

Jesus again:

The disciples ask Jesus, 'Tell us how our end shall be.' Jesus says, 'Have you found the beginning yet, you who ask after the end? For at the place where the beginning is, there shall be the end.'

The Unnameable:

I’ll recognise it, in the end I’ll recognise it, the story of the silence that he never left, that I should never have left, that I may never find again, that I may find again, then it will be he, it will be I, it will be the place, the silence, the end, the beginning, the beginning again, how can I say it, that’s all words, they’re all I have, and not many of them, the words fail, the voice fails, so be it

The final passage of The Unnameable, which often is hilariously shorn and misinterpreted as an inspirational quote about how if you don't succeed, try again:

all words, there’s nothing else, you must go on, that’s all I know, they’re going to stop, I know that well, I can feel it, they’re going to abandon me, it will be the silence, for a moment, a good few moments, or it will be mine, the lasting one, that didn’t last, that still lasts, it will be I, you must go on, I can't go on, you must go on. I’ll go on, you must say words, as long as there are any, until they find me, until they say me, strange pain, strange sin, you must go on, perhaps it’s done already, perhaps they have said me already, perhaps they have carried me to the threshold of my story, before the door that opens on my story, that would surprise me, if it opens, it will be I, it will be the silence, where I am, I don’t know. I’ll never know, in the silence you don’t know, you must go on, I can’t go on. I’ll go on. †

We bear this thing that's riding on our backs. We'll never get to where we're going, and the thing will never be born. If it was born, it'd be too terrible for us to bear. There's nothing riding on our backs.

It will never speak us into being.

We keep on calling out into the silence, we keep trying to explain or understand the thing that's riding on our backs, searching for a way to birth it before we die. Our words about the thing are crucial, and they're meaningless, and they're all we have, and they're nothing at all. We cannot name it and we cannot express it, but we cannot stop trying, and we will keep turning back to our words about the thing, obsessing over them, tearing them to pieces, putting them back together.

I'm fumbling at something I can't think or say, but fumbling is all we're capable of. There could be beauty and meaning and comfort in the fumbling, but it's also vain, and foolish, and pointless, and we're lying to ourselves about the beauty and the meaning and the comfort, and we're indulging ourselves pointlessly by going on and on about the pointlessness of it. Nothing can know what's going on. We will never get close enough to understand without being destroyed.

Thomas' Jesus again, warning those who seek to reveal what's hidden:

He who is near me is near the fire.

Riddley Walker, reflecting on the Punch puppet's inexplicable desire to cook and eat his own child:

Whyis Punch crookit? Why wil he al ways kill the baby if he can? Parbly I wont ever know its jus on me to think on it.

If you got to the end of this, congratulations: but the above is honestly the most appropriate patchwork of what I believe, what propels me, what I feel.

As for what comes after life, I think it's fairly straightforwardly a nothingness we are tragically incapable of fully knowing or accepting - it's Beckett's unimaginable and unattainable silence, a silence that his characters' voices keep on shattering even as they cry out for it.

-Jon‡

*I can't remember if Kafka makes prominent reference to Czech puppets in his work, which is interesting in its own right given the thematic relevance (the protagonist in The Hunger Artist is perhaps a kind of self-directing puppet show?).

However, Gustav Meyrink - who some unsourced Google quotes suggest was pals with Czech puppeteer Richard Teschner - did write a strange little story, The Man On The Bottle, about an audience watching a 'marionette show' who are too wrapped up in performances and masks to interpret the reality that they're actually watching a human being suffocate to death.

**Thomas Ligotti: "Something had happened. They did not know what it was, but they did know it as that which should not be.

Something would have to be done if they were to live with that which should not be.

This would not (be enough); it would only be the best they could do."

***Beckett's Malone Dies actually kicks off with a related sentiment:" I am in my mother’s room. It’s I who live there now. I don’t know how I got there...In any case I have her room. I sleep in her bed. I piss and shit in her pot. I have taken her place. I must resemble her more and more."

† I don't necessarily align myself in humour with Ligotti on a lot of this stuff but I imagine he would recognise both Beckett's writing and Kafka's frustrations re explaining the causes of his hatred for his father as sublimation: finding artistic and philosophical ways of sketching the inexpressible horror and uncertainty of our existence in order to reckon with it at a remove without destroying ourselves. A higher form of self-deception, but self-deception nevertheless.

‡Muna's more of an anarcho-nihilist, I think.