#its how money affected his parents thus affecting him

[thedivinelights]

Si Vis Amaris Ama

(Modern AU Scrooge/Marley)

They've had a long and winding road to get to this point, a childhood spun of fate and interspersed with romance. Nevertheless, Marley can't help but have his doubts at moments.

Luckily, Scrooge is always there to remind him

When Jacob A.T. Marley was twelve-years-old, he met his partner for the first time.

He didn’t know it at the time. A spiteful young boy, scorned from others and scorning everyone else, looked upon this blue-eyed, brown-haired boy with disdain and contempt the likes of which he’d never felt for anyone else nor held to such a standard. How dare he take the attention that was meant to be his?! How dare he come forward with his wondrous awe and a nervous countenance, as if he hadn’t known what he was taking with such avarice?! This was his territory, dense and unforgiving. He had claimed his rocky landscape with the Marley domain. The staircases and hallways were his hunting grounds, his bedroom his alcove.

This was his home. Lenore and Abel Marley were his parents. Any love directed at this intruder should’ve been his and his alone! He would choke him out! He would drag him away! He would refuse his friendship! There was no space in their hearts for this greedy, stalking, orbiting, forsaken, abandoned, adorable, cheeky, hopeful shark! None whatsoever! He would fight for his territory! 

He would fight against this… this ruinous boy!

But he made a mistake. A foolish mistake. A beautiful mistake.

For when Jacob A.T. Marley was thirteen-years-old, he fell in love for the first time.

That love grew like a parasite, a bloodsucker, a leech, feasting upon the resentment he held, thriving in the very soil of his bitterness. It crept into the corners of his heart through every shared book, wrapping tendrils around his defences through every shared lunch, and before he realised it, the spiteful young boy found himself captivated by the very presence he had once despised. Even as the boy had grown into a man and found another, Marley was content to stand to the side, even as his heart screamed its protest. He was content to merely work with him, and content to leave it at that.

But then the life that had been born had been born cold, and the affection that had festered had turned into grief of the greatest magnitude, threatening to drown the shark within its black ichor. She left him when all tears were shed and all that was left was greed. And Marley, in his selfishness, confessed five years later. And Scrooge, in his practicality, accepted it.

Thus did the Shark and the Snake blossom amidst corporate greed, falling from grace in their sins, and rising from them all in the same breath, transforming in fire and metal and fear.

Wounds had begun to heal, ignorance turned to revelation, and want gave way to fulfilment. Atonement was by no means an easy task, but they chose to make the effort. Seven years gone, and only stepped back into the limelight when the world grovelled for their return.

And through change came truth, doubts laid bare. And Marley had to ask… had he made Ebenezer Scrooge obligated in this relationship? Was it all a series of contracts, a game to be won by default, or was there genuine affection behind the cold demeanour? Was the partnership merely a shackled facade, or had Scrooge truly come to appreciate Marley's presence?

Marley hadn’t the answer.

“...I’ve emailed over the PowerPoint slides with the information you requested. Did you…? Ah, I see you got our gift. No, no, all of that money is for your cause. I know… yes, I know it’s a hefty sum, but… there’s no hush in this money, sir. Asplex Industries is reforming. Scrooge and I are making sure of that. Yes… alright then, call my secretary for any further details. Cheers.”

Marley let out a sigh of relief as he finally removed the earpiece that had been in his ear for the last hour or so. He drummed his fingers on the table, a smile twitching on his lips at the sheer incredulousness of it all. It was amusing enough to hear the poor man over the phone sounding so sceptical, but so exuberant. A million quid hadn’t been that much, had it?

“I take it GamCare got our donation?” Scrooge pushed his way into their shared office just as Marley finished the call, his partner noting the bags under his eyes, and the crease against his brow that seemed to grow ever larger with each meeting that passed.

“If the screaming in the background had been any indication.” Marley spun a few rounds in his chair, before grasping the desk with his good arm to steady himself. “Poor bloke sounded like I’d just given him a winning lottery ticket.”

Scrooge let out a weary huff, running a hand through his greying hair as he sat down next to Marley. Despite the many shifts they had made in their lives, both the good and the bad, sharing a desk had become a habitual comfort that neither of them were willing to break. Besides, seducing his way into a sitting position in Scrooge’s strong arms, Marley thought with a wicked grin, was a nice little bonus all around.

“Board give you a hard time again?” Marley asked as Scrooge slumped beside him.

“Don’t get me started. The damn thing was interminable.” Scrooge rubbed a hand across his face. “I don’t understand how Preslan can have so much energy to last through hours of drivel.”

“Glad it was you and not me.” Marley quipped, earning a wry smile from his lover.

“Ha ha.”

“Anyways, I have some time to kill.” Marley rubbed his right wrist, the bandages beneath shifting and tightening as he did so. “Want to grab some lunch? My treat.”

Scrooge took a glance at the time on the monitor and sighed. “Can’t. I have to coordinate with FULTON with Project: Terraforge. NASA’s paying us a hefty sum for this, and I need to ensure our resident AI doesn’t fuck it up.”

Marley wondered — quite often, he realised — if an artificial intelligence really could screw over a project that badly on accident, but he knew better than to dabble in the specifics and the statistics. He knew nothing of robotics or droids or golems that could terraform and transform landscapes, and he wasn’t about to pretend otherwise. 

“No worries. I’ll grab something and bring it back here. You sure you don’t want anything?”

Scrooge shook his head. “I’ll survive.”

Marley stood up and walked around the desk, pressing a gentle kiss to Scrooge’s temple. “Don’t work yourself to death, okay?”

Scrooge hummed, acknowledging the sentiment without words, and Marley left the office with a heavy heart, wondering if there would ever be a time when Scrooge would prioritise their moments over corporate obligations. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the importance of their work; he did, perhaps more than anyone. And it wasn’t that Scrooge didn’t care; far from it. There was that sneaking darkness of guilt that would creep up on him as their past sins had manifested in dreams and cackled in his sleep. Marley never liked seeing him tossing beneath tangled sheets, being helpless to only sit and watch and cradle as he sobbed at the screams, whimpered at the wails, mewled at the memories. They were fully prepared to be dragged away in cuffs and trapped within bars when they revealed the truth fourteen years ago. It had only been by God’s grace — and the forgiveness of those they had wronged — that they were spared from such a fate.

They had been given the opportunity for restitution, but neither of them didn’t know what to do with it. A fitting problem for men who prided themselves on knowing everything.

They would not speak to each other for a few hours after that. Between scheduling, meetings, and a never-ending stream of emails interspersed between the fires that had to be put out, Scrooge and Marley’s paths rarely crossed. In the moments when they had, both would merely offer a brief smile or a peck on the cheek, and that would be that.

Marley wouldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t accustomed to such movements, but he wouldn’t say that the sting of disenchantment did not strike a heavy blow either. He hoped for more, he longed for more, and yet he received so little.

Until at last his phone had buzzed, and he saw the message from Scrooge.

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: Did you see what Fan sent in the group chat?

Marls: Haven’t had a look.

Scrooge forwarded the image of his sister with their young lady, their lightning bolt, their love, and the smile that lit up Marley’s face could have powered those automatons all on its own. 

Marls: Ariana seems to be enjoying herself. We should visit the Philippines for ourselves one day.

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: I explicitly told Fan NOT to buy her any chocolate.

Marls: She’s fourteen now, Eb, and she’s your daughter. You know no one can say no to her, especially her Auntie Fan. Aurora could, maybe.

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: She’s been indoctrinated by her son. You do it.

Marls: You know I can’t do that, I break too easily! T_T

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: Then all hope is lost, indeed.

Laughter sprung forth from him like an abundant fountain, and Marley continued his pace. He passed a lonely little lady situated on the cold steps of a Holland & Barrett, a handful of newspapers outstretched towards each person that walked by. Marley stopped and turned to look at her. The little lady looked back. A silent kinship formed between them.

He smiled as he told her he didn’t need one, and he smiled when she smiled as he pulled out a tenner and squeezed it into her hand. He told her to save it well, and left just as his phone buzzed once more.

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: If you’re not too busy, love, can you check out this address for me? It’s an old, rundown building, but Pastelle thinks there’s potential in it.

Marley received the postcode, eyebrows raised and voice lilted, giving his response.

Marls: I can do that. If there’s another incident with me on the news, you’ll know it’s unsafe. 

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: Please don’t joke about that.

Marls: Alright, alright… sorry, babe.

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: >:{

The playful emoticon had been enough to make his lips twitch, at the very least, and Marley conceded to the request, punching in the postcode onto his phone.

London had often been a busy tangle of labyrinthine streets and alleys, but in the blazing warmth of August — when the binds of school and work were put on a temporary halt, and life, chaotic as it was, embraced the joyous freedom of summer vacation — there was that singular sense of contentment that filled Marley whenever he so desired to walk amongst the crowds. It was a heat that permeated the air, seeping into every corner of the city, and Marley relished in the simple pleasure of being a part of the bustling life. Men, women, and children no longer parted at the sight of him, their fear of the Snake no longer prevalent. A toddler’s curious gaze lingered on his form for a moment, and Marley wondered then what it would be like to have that, even for a moment.

He hailed a cab and provided the address to the driver, sitting back as the cityscape passed by in a blur of motion and colour. The address Scrooge had given him was not too far from their office, situated in a less frequented part of the city that held remnants of its industrial past. It wasn’t really somewhere Marley frequented, mind you. His routes had often been more central, and when he committed to his self-imposed isolation after his accident, he had little reason to leave Essex.

But for Asplex, and for Scrooge, he would go wherever he needed to… within reason, at least.

The cab pulled up to his destination, and Marley paid the fare with little thought as he pushed the car door open, expecting a dilapidated exterior with more rodents and vermin than potential.

He stepped out onto the pavement, and Marley had to confer with the driver that, yes, this had been the right place.

For in the place of abandonment, Marley had been greeted with a beautiful facade, golden accents and intricate designs reminiscent of a time long past. A queue stretched out for what seemed like an eternity, and a velvet rope marked the barrier between the streets and the grand establishment that awaited him. There were those who gasped at the sight of him — the illustrious Jacob Marley, a public sight more uncommon than that of a comet streaking the night sky — and Marley clutched at his form, pudgy and unrefined as it was.

It was rare to see one of them out and about, and rarer still to see them together.

“Surprised, Jacob?”

Marley heard his name, sensed the footsteps, and felt the heat rush to his face as Scrooge finally arrived.

“Oh, you fucking asshole…” Marley gasped, and Scrooge laughed. It was a gorgeous sound, a beautiful sound. But there was none more handsome than the sight that laid before him.

The Shark stood at last, cleaning up better than even he had expected. His navy suit with his burgundy tie and white undershirt had been tailored perfectly, smart and smooth and snug. His black gloves tightened as his arm tugged against the silk and curled his hand into a fist around a mysterious black bag. His elevator shoes echoed across the pavement, polished to such a degree that they mirrored the city lights above.

“You’re six foot four.” Marley’s filter had long since passed away. “You don’t need those.”

Scrooge leaned against a pole as his leg slowly rose. “I could take them off for you, if you—”

Marley flushed crimson. “N-No, I think we’re… you’re… we’re fine!” 

Scrooge snorted like a pig when he grabbed him with such speed, holding him and halting his attempted seduction. It was quite obvious, then, as Marley noted how Scrooge seemed to bury in and press his stomach ever closer to his own, hands trailing every curve and contour.

“I couldn’t resist, babe, I’m sorry.” Scrooge’s lips pressed a tender kiss to Marley’s forehead, and the blazing summer was nothing compared to the warmth that swelled within him as it roared and flickered all at once.

“You’re a liar.” Marley grinned. “A liar and a cheat and a monster. You are terrible. Absolutely horrible.”

Scrooge chuckled, the sound resonating in the night air. "Guilty as charged, my love. But this is a lie I’m rather proud of."

Marley rolled his eyes as he linked his arm with Scrooge’s. “Let’s hope you didn’t lie about reserving this place.”

The bouncer eyed them sternly as they approached, as suspicious as them as he had been of everyone else that passed through. But upon revealing their reservation, the velvet rope lifted for them without question. Marley could feel the leers directed at him, scrutinising and judgemental. They were all beautifully thin and fit, and he was here, soft and round, wearing a messy ponytail and arriving in ill-fitting clothes that gripped his body in all the wrong places. Scrooge could go for someone better here. He could’ve taken Belle and Dick instead of someone like him…

But then Scrooge wrapped his arm around him, and led him by the small of his back, and pulled him close. He realised it then, feeling as loved and owned as he was.

Scrooge would’ve chosen no one else. For there was no one more beautiful in the Shark’s eyes than the Snake that was nestled in his arms.

“Ignore them.” Scrooge whispered gently, his breath tickling his ear.

And Marley did, knowing that he could.

“Good evening, Herr Scrooge, Herr Marley.” The owner, a friendly German with a neatly trimmed beard, shook their hands with a fervour as he greeted them, and Marley recognised him immediately. The man had been one of their many victims in the past — a mismanagement of an old restaurant’s profits by a bootstrapper with more sleaze than sense was all that Scrooge and Marley needed to strike — and a tentative acquaintance that had become more cordial as compensation was issued and confessions brought to light.

Many had chosen to remain silent for their sake, a judgement that seemed incomprehensible, but was all the more just. For in a world governed by greed and secrecy, the truest forms of repentance were few and far between.

“Mr. Amsler.” Marley greeted back, flashing him his famous debonair smile. “You must have kept this under wraps for quite a while.”

“It’s all thanks to your Schatz here.” Amsler tilted his head, and Marley’s ears burned crimson at the end. “He said it was merely payment, but the selfishness has come clean, ja?”

Scrooge huffed indignantly, a hint of a pout on his lips. “How rude of you to insinuate that I did not do this out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Yes, of course. My apologies, Herr Scrooge. Waiving payment was your true motive.” Amsler winked, and it had been Scrooge’s turn to shift colours. “Right this way, if you please.”

He led the couple through the crowded rows of tables and chairs and up onto a grand staircase lined with ornate railings and decadent, dazzling chandeliers. The sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and soft music filled the air as they ascended to a higher level, each conversation creating a symphony neither frenzied nor discordant.

The door swung open to reveal a luxurious space bathed in dim ambient light. Plush velvet couches and golden accents adorned the room, and a stunning view of the London skyline stretched out beyond the large windows. Ever had it been a magical sight, even to those two souls who had spent all of their years amongst these views. A bar sat at the far end of the room with an array of fine spirits and cocktails displayed in crystal decanters, manned by bartenders clad in crisp white shirts and black waistcoats, while servers floated around with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. The scent of rich, sumptuous food wafted through the air, teasing their senses with the promise of an unforgettable night.

Amsler gestured to a secluded table set for two in a dimly lit corner, bowing with a flourish before leaving the couple to their own devices Scrooge pulled out a chair for Marley, and he took a seat, admiring the opulent surroundings as he settled into the chair opposite him.

The waiter appeared not moments later, impeccably dressed and similarly good mannered, as he approached with a practised smile as they asked for their order.

"I'll have the Kobe beef carpaccio for starters." Scrooge began, looking at Marley who nodded approvingly. "Followed by the lobster bisque, and for the main course, we'll take the fillet mignon for two, medium-rare. Oh, and a bottle of red, if you please."

The waiter noted down the order with a gracious nod and a discreet smile before turning his attention to Marley.

"And for you, sir?"

Marley glanced at the menu, his eyes widening as he perused the extravagant offerings. "Uh, I'll have the foie gras to start, then the truffle risotto, and, um, the baked Alaska for dessert. Sparkling water for me."

The waiter left with haste, and Scrooge scrunched up his nose in coltish abhorrence.

“Sparkling water? Really?”

“It’s a good refreshment.” Marley defended with a whine.

“Carbonated water is not refreshing.” Scrooge rolled his eyes as he rubbed his thumb over Marley’s bandages.

Marley laced his fingers with his. “Says the man who comes into the office with either Starbucks or a Monster.”

“The blatant disrespect! And after all the trouble I went through to make this date a possibility!” Scrooge’s lips formed a brazen smirk. “I had to reschedule my meetings for this.”

“Oh, the horror! Whatever will Ebenezer Scrooge do without his perfectly systematic timetable?” 

Marley slapped a hand to his forehead in a comically theatrical faint, and Scrooge only held onto him tighter.

“Careful, Juliet. We’re not starcrossed.” 

Marley grinned. Crooked, goofy, unabashedly him, and stupid enough to make Scrooge fall even further than even Icarus had, carried by waxen wings.

More patrons had filed into the lounge as they ate, each addition more vainglorious and eclectic than the last, as if the whole world had gathered in unison under pretences of sophistication. It often left a bitter taste in Marley’s mouth to interact with them. He knew how to please them, sure. Mr. Adeleye’s daughter was an inspired lover of Fan’s concerts, Mrs. Gupta had a weakness for diamonds — white ones, the size of a robin’s egg — and Sir Reginald and Lady Foster would be more than inclined to cooperate if their hotel room was shared and their specific ‘amenities’ taken care of. Cuffs, massage oil and the like.

Such was the dance Marley intimately understood. If you knew what one desired, you knew how to grant them. And if you knew how to grant them, you knew how to make them come back for more. It was simple commerce. I give you what you want, you give me what I want. A transaction as old as the days when cowries reigned as currency. And he knew each patron off by heart, their desires laid bare from years of slithering through the grass of pleasantries, keeping out of sight from the moguls and magnates that prowled similar territory.

People called him an assassin of pleasure, a harbinger of delights, a viper of vices, amongst other pretty little epithets. A teller of truths who toyed with them all the same. But Marley wasn’t a killer, not really. He was a survivor. A survivor amidst the throngs of those who would tear him down, who would expose him, who would feast upon his flesh like the carrion crows they were. He had learned long ago to play the game, to dance with the devils and demons that lurked in the shadows, and to emerge unscathed, unmarked, unbroken. If he lost a small part of his identity to imprint upon theirs, then so be it; the world was not kind to those who didn’t adapt to the shifting tides.

And yet, amidst all the decadence and debauchery, there was one thing that remained constant. One beacon of light in the ever-darkening abyss.

“You alright, Jake?”

Marley startled out of his ruminations, being greeted with the concerned yet affectionate gaze of his husband. He blinked. He shook his head and smiled.

“I’m alright, Eb.”

He thought that if he said it aloud, Scrooge would believe him. Others would have. His words were smoother than the finest of honey made by the royal family’s own colony. People knew him. That’s what they all thought.

But Scrooge just stared, face set in an expression Marley remembered. He’d used it for all of his life, for as long as they had known each other since the days of their meeting. First as a shield, then as a sword, and now as a crutch to lean upon when the weight of the world became too much to bear.

“Liar.” Scrooge had said finally.

Damn it, he thought. Damned was he who loved and knew so much.

“Yeah…” Marley pulled his hand away, bandages and all. “I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

The empty plate of baked Alaska appealed more to his attention than anything else at the moment. Scrooge continued to stare, and Marley felt like an Antiguan racer kept captive in a terrarium, observed by an indifferent biologist who knew every little intricacy of his being.

“You couldn’t ruin the mood even if you tried.” Scrooge’s voice was soft, tender, and Marley was furious with how much he wanted to believe it. “You make it better.

His husband scoffed, a self-deprecating laugh escaping him, severe and savage only to himself. “If you say so.”

“I do say so.” Scrooge leaned forward and reached across the table, both hands finding Marley’s once more and squeezing gently. “I’m sorry for being so preoccupied with work lately, and I’m sorry for not being there. I know it’s not ideal… and with Ariana away, we should be having time for ourselves, not swamped with work. But that’s not to say I think she’s a distraction, she’s not! I love our daughter! I love having her around and seeing her and spending time with her, but I also love to spend time with you, and…”

“Eb, you’re rambling again.”

Scrooge paused, cheeks flushing with a vivid embarrassment. “Sorry…”

Marley shook his head, amused as he had ever been with his antics. He told him not to worry, that he was glad that he understood, and Scrooge was glad he did too.

“I’ll be honest, though; I think I came… unprepared.” Marley’s eyes darted around like wild beasts, his sight escaping from the confines of their booth to the surrounding crowd, all dressed to the nines. “I feel like a duckling in a room of swans.”

“You’re a swan too.” Scrooge defended.

“You’re biased, Ebenezer.” Marley joked as his lips quirked upwards into a cheeky grin. 

“I am just as objective as I have always been, Jacob.” Scrooge felt an innate sense of pride at his own words, puffing up his chest to contain it. “And my analysis of the situation dictates that as the truth.”

Marley hid his smile behind a sip of his sparkling water and told his husband to stop, but Scrooge’s refusal was undeniable. All it had done was fan the flame.

“Even still, with your objective deduction…” Marley mused, swirling his glass around idly. “The fact remains that, well, I am underdressed.”

But Scrooge, as sharp of a man as he had always been and twice as deadly, leaned back into his chair with a smug grin that could only very well be described as borderline infuriating to anyone trying to win an argument against him. 

“Then allow me to fix that, dear viper.”

A bag was pulled out from beneath the table, the same one Marley had seen him holding when he first arrived, though being adamantly enraptured by other sights, he had given it no further thought. The bag itself was unremarkable — a black tote, with no discernible markings or designs, save for a small logo embroidered in silver thread. But as Scrooge unzipped it and reached inside, Marley couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation wash over him, tinged with a hint of curiosity and excitement.

Scrooge pulled out a garment, unfolding it with care and precision, as if handling a priceless artefact. And perhaps, in Marley’s eyes, it was. 

For it was a dress Scrooge had gifted him. Not a suit that choked his frame. Not a tie that constricted his neck. Not a shirt that tore at the seams. A dress. A beautiful, majestic, wonderful, fascinating dress.

A dress Marley had only seen once before and yearned for only in dreams.

It was a masterpiece of fabric and design, crafted with the expertise of a master artisan. The material was a lush forest green, reminiscent of the deepest, most enchanting emerald hues of a secluded forest glen. It flowed like liquid silk, cascading down in gentle verdant waves that shimmered and danced in the dim light of the restaurant. The neckline was modest yet alluring, with delicate gold lace adorning the edges like the intricate patterns on a window of winter frost.

But it was the silhouette that truly took Marley’s breath away. The dress hugged every curve of his body with a flattering embrace, accentuating his figure in all the right places while skimming over any imperfections with effortless grace. It cinched at the waist, drawing attention to his wider hips and fuller chest, before flaring out into a voluminous skirt that would pool elegantly around his ankles.

It was elegant, refined, and utterly breathtaking.

“Is this—?”

“—the same dress that you were eyeing a few weeks ago? Yup.” Scrooge finished, popping the ‘p’ at the end, piercing even through the din of the bustling restaurant.

“But that��” Marley’s trembling hands reached for the fabric, the handover being as quiet as he had been. There was no way… this had to have been a dream, Scrooge wouldn’t… he wouldn’t…

We’re not married, Jacob.

Those words… he knew them well, all those years ago. They stung him, cut him, tore him. He was ready to leave. The Snake was ready to slither away, to leave the Shark to his own devices. To bury the man he knew and hope against hope that he would never cross paths with him in this lifetime, or the next.

The monstrosity of his arm was proof enough. The seven years away was proof enough. The child they found in the thicket was proof enough.

But now… even through the suffering and the pain and the greed…

People always said it was the little things that mattered most; Marley wouldn’t complain if there was a grand gesture or two sandwiched between them.

“Do you like it…?” Scrooge asked, his heart drumming loudly in his chest.

Marley said nothing in response, only staring at the dress, then to Scrooge, then to the plates, then to the patrons, then back to Scrooge, then back to Scrooge, then back to—

He stood and left the booth, and Scrooge felt a drop in his stomach like an anchor sunken to the bottom of the sea, trapping him between hope and despair, fear and excitement, anguish and contentment. He’d fucked up, hadn’t he? There was no reason for Marley to stay. He gave him that choice the moment he saw the video, saw the papers, saw the pain. What an idiot he had been. A stupid, selfish, sleazy idiot. There had always been fine print. An excuse to make his husband don a dress. He promised he wouldn’t do this again. He swore it!

But then Marley returned moments before Scrooge thought to crush the glass in his hand, and he could hear the gasps of indignation that were muttered by the ones with delicate sensibilities. 

Fuck, Scrooge had underplayed how gorgeous he would look in it.

Marley looked ethereal, breathtaking, radiant. It fit him just as the tailor had intended, clinging to his voluptuous figure, accentuating every round curve, every soft line of his body, flowing as the wind through the trees, graceful and fluid. There was a light to his aged green eyes and a true smile to grace his cracked lips. Black and grey locks flowed into a bun, just as he had before everything, but a looseness and fluidity was there. Each strand framed him perfectly, not framed him differently.

There was nothing, however, dear reader, truly nothing, that could compare to the face Scrooge had made in that moment, when he noticed that the bandages had finally unravelled, tossed in the bin. Marley couldn’t move it the way he wanted it to. The blemishes that remained, angry marks and dents like reddened craters on the surface of the moon. They twisted and contorted his once pristine skin, leaving behind a twisted tapestry of scars that told the story of a life forever changed by fire and metal and fear.

Marley looked at him at last, shy but somehow more confident than he had ever been, and still Scrooge looked at him like he was the most desirable creature to ever grace this earth.

“You look…” Scrooge’s voice caught in his throat, desperately finding the words that eluded him. “...absolutely heavenly.”

“Really…?” Marley blushed furiously, the rosy hue spreading across his cheeks like the light of dawn breaking over the horizon. “I mean… neither of us are even close to being saints.”

“I know we’re not.” Scrooge finally made his move, taking each step in stride as he forced his way out of the booth, into the centre of the room, in front of people who knew him and knew Marley. “But we can pretend to be, can’t we?”

He moved impossibly close, arms wrapping around as best he could, feeling the silk beneath his calloused fingertips, gloves long gone, the scent of Marley’s cologne filling his senses, intoxicating him like the finest wine.

“Let’s just be us, Eb.” Marley responded, burying into the crook of his neck as he repeated it once more. “Let’s just be us.”

Scrooge hummed, and the strains of music filled the air, permeating throughout the lounge with its melodious, dulcet tones. He vaguely recalled the theme being of musicals that night.

How fitting that Julie Andrews and Bill Lee should serenade them with something good.

“Dance with me, Jacob?”

“...Always.”

Tagged; @rom-e-o @quill-pen @crimson-phantom-designs @ray-painter

[abanbas]

COMPANION QUEST

Rook can find Sire on the coast of Rivain. Isabela will send a missive saying that there is a mage amongst their ranks that has many skills but their knack for getting around Thedas, seemingly having a "guy" everywhere would probably help Rook's endeavors. She also mentions that he has a very odd power that could perhaps with intel and any matters concerning the fade.

Sire would require you to go fishing, to get a better feel of who you are. They will join you no matter what, though how they treat you to start with will be determined by your response to how long it takes to catch fish, how you bait them and your response of killing the fish for sport, eating the fish or simply letting it go.

Sire also reveals the bubbles, as being multi-faceted and able to do many things but it all requires a lot of energy and focus. That theres always a possibility that he could die due to his own bubbles killing him, but luckily he's trained hard and long to master conducting magic through them like any other medium and wielding the wild and pureness of the fade. He thinks it has something to do with the way Qunari dream, with the way they walk the fade in completely different way. Much like Elves seeing the fade completely different from other races. Sire's working theory is that, a sect of Qunari walked the fade the same way he does. Different times, Different places all at once while still remaining conscious and active in normal every day life. While on the quest he also reveals his love for architecture, saying that even a different doorknob can tell you something about personal taste or even reflect how a culture's environment affects such a small choice.

Another quest would be them talking about how architecture and gender are similar. Trans people change their bodies because of many reasons, some for person taste, some due to the environment they inhabit, cultural or just plain survival. Some trans people change nothing about the outside and focus completely on interiors. It all has meaning, nothing about a building, how its built or how it's furnished is just because, there's always some sort of meaning even if it is just because "they liked it this way". Rook will be given chances to relate to him, express their own identity whether cisgender or not (there will be more approval if youre transgender or any other minority as Sire himself is one and thus will relate to those who have a better grasp on the socio-politcal stranding that him even existing as a person, let alone a extremely versatile mage causing vigilante justice all across Rivain.)

There will be a couple beach/sauna/spy missions where it's purely for enjoyment, getting to know his bg background more and generally getting a better sense of his personality and reasoning for the fleety way he lives his life.

As for their Veilgaurd mission, he will bring rook to his village. Show them around and they'll say oh what a sweet and nice looking village. Sire will explain it wasn't always that way, it took years of him sending money back to his parents and the elders. That everything he loves is right there in Rivain. He doesnt love his country, he loves the wonderful and beautiful people of his homeland. He loves Rivain, he loves the seers and he loves his village. He wants them to life comfortably and for none of the people who take up a home there to ever be left out, even socially (Rivain is a very communal country, gold and what not don't matter much but for a medium sized village that's miles away from the bigger towns, it's difficult though they do manage it even before Sire. Sire just wants to make sure that the village is better than ok. There are A LOT of people who don't have their own homes there or even rooms in the village commune. He wants to change that, so part of his big goal is securing permanent help for his village and finding out more about qunari mages/history in general so)

Rook has to help him decide If after everything, He'll return and stay in his village and surround area and be more visible protector/leader of his village OR If he will continue aiding them from afar BUT focus on finding out more about the way qunari dream and how it relates to their magic/how they see the fade while dreaming vs. how sire sees it all the time (which is fractured) beside when physically in it

[h-worksrambles]

Oh, I’ve been looking forward to seeing your spoiler heavy thoughts on this section. Another excellent analysis and I have some points of my own I’d like to share. As with my previous reblogs of your posts, I’ll go scene by scene and full spoilers below.

Chase’s inner thoughts give us a little more insight into his struggles with hallucination and sleep paralysis. While this doesn’t have as much bearing on Carl’s route as others, it is an effective way of establishing uncertainty before moving into more overtly supernatural territory, as even our protagonist is unsure what is real and what isn’t. I’m fascinated at your point that sudden changes to sleep schedules is a real thing that can affect one’s sleep paralysis. Definitely provides an interesting extra layer of context. And adds a poignancy to Chase’s struggles with trauma and how they constantly follow him. Even starting fresh in college, well out of Echo, all it takes is something as mundane as a night shift to bring back his old demons.

“I mean, once, after I’d seen a scary movie about possession, I’d been afraid to go to sleep for weeks, mainly because my nightmares can seem so real.” - Given both the truth of Chase’s own character AND how Carl’s route unfolds, the irony is practically dripping from this line. As you yourself say OP, not only is Chase’s worse nightmare happening to him the whole time, it’s about to happen to his best friend.

James Hendricks:

Chase’s research into James Hendricks really struck me on closer inspection this read through as I noticed just how much of it is thematically relevant to the rest of the game.

James is presented as an immigrant to America in 1825, a victim of prejudice and parental abuse. As an adult he goes on to become an embodiment of colonialism, and a perpetrator of racism and abuse in his own right. The cycles of exploitation and violence interspersed throughout America’s history are yet another circle. One that pulls people in and results in them spreading further harm. James and John’s relationship is immediately set up as unhealthy as the reader is instantly altered to James’ history of ‘prejudice against the Natives’. Thus there is an immediate oxymoron given that we immediately learn they were apparently lovers. And given that The Smoke Room has later confirmed that James was much younger than John, this only further enhances the uncomfortable power dynamic in their relationship. Toxic relationships are yet another integral theme of Echo that is hence repeated through the town’s history.

I also so took note of how the game specifies that “He married Emma, a girl half his age in 1860.” This on its own, uncomfortable as it is, is not inherently remarkable, given that women would be married off as young as possible at such a time. But given what is revealed about James over the story, I think this is pointed out to the reader for a reason (plus, just because it was normal for the time has never stopped Echo from pointing out how deeply predatory the practise of marrying young women and girls off could be: see Marcy from The Smoke Room as a horrifying example).

The death of John Begay is a painful reminder of the homophobia and racism that still dogs the town. John, whose indigenous heritage makes him an easy scapegoat, is hanged for the ‘crime’ of sodomy, while James, a rich white coded man, escapes thanks to his money and influence. And as we learn, the actual truth is still more uncomfortable. James was not the only true culprit but was guilty of something much, much worse. Later, James dies from an unusual insect bite in 1891, a further extension of the symbolism of spiders in the narrative (again, I’ll save my thoughts on this for Flynn’s route). But for now, consider how James is killed years after the fact, by a creature which arguably symbolises Echo’s themes of trauma and entrapment (again, I’ll get to this more another time).

The strewn photos are of course, the first sign of James’ Hendricks ultimate goal: to conceal the monstrous truth of his actions, by destroying the evidence. Because as always, this town needs secrets.

-What I mostly want to enforce is how many of the integral themes of the story, so many of the ugly aspects of the town, resurface in James’ history: Racism, abuse (familial and spousal), homophobia, colonialism, toxic relationships, and the inescapable nature of the past. He is the embodiment of the town’s corruption, both a victim and perpetrator of this circle of suffering, one rooted in the real systemic undercurrents of America itself. I don’t wanna say James is the ‘true villain of the whole game’ but he is an essential part of the tapestry, a crucial link in the chain. Even if the portrayal of ghosts in Carl’s route may speak to a different, earlier plan for the text, it still lines up with the nature of the story that we got.

-Back upstairs, Carl starts to become uncomfortable when Chase suggests getting him a change of clothes and shaving his beard. Chase has consistently been a support to Carl because he’s the one person who has never forced Carl to be anything other than what he is. However, he has also been guilty of being too passive, too negligent to his friend’s issues. I agree that this significantly well meaning ab selfless behaviour on Chase’s part. In fact I would argue that Carl’s route put’s especial emphasis on Chase’s character arc of learning to get out of his own head and be more empathetic to the people around him. Every route gives Chase a significantly different character arc. Some positive, some negative. And in this route, this aspect of Chase takes centre stage. With that in mind, we see Chase starting to change. Perhaps somewhat aware of these mistakes, after their conversation the previous night, Chase attempts to make more of an effort to help Carl. But unfortunately he ends up perhaps pushing too hard, too fast. Like everyone else on his life, Carl feels he is once again being talked at. Pushed to change himself into someone he’s not.

-Jenna calls Carl to chastise him and Chase for not spending the day with the rest of the group. I certainly agree with your emphasis that Jenna’s literal possession is not properly addressed as a context and she gets unfairly demonised for moments like this in parts of the fandom. Questions of character agency and how much say the characters have when they’re at the whim of supernatural forces comes up pretty frequently in Echo discourse, but I’d say this example is pretty clear cut.

The thing is, to an extent, possession aside for the moment, Jenna isn’t completely wrong. Chase and Carl have effectively shut themselves off from the rest of the group and refused to engage with them. It’s understandable why. The group’s dynamic is far from healthy and the two wanting to disengage from that is fair. But it’s also another case of both of them doing something they have done repeatedly, especially Chase. Taking the easy option even if it hurts the people around them. There’s a lot of complicated emotions at play. When Chase criticises Jenna’s bad attitude or Leo for sulking because ‘Leo’s day didn’t go the way he wanted’, he’s not wrong. Jenna is pinning the blame on Carl for a much wider, more complicated topic. But perhaps shutting themselves off isn’t the best approach for either of them. Especially since they were all so angry at Flynn specifically for refusing to engage with the group despite it being the last time they’ll all see each other. It’s another example of Howly being able to write complex arguments where everyone reacts in a way true to their characters and no one is 100% right or wrong. He doesn’t rely on strawmen for his arguments which is a sign of good writing.

A minor tragic detail. Chase notices that Carl’s uncomfortable reaction mirrors his reaction to the surprise party. But he doesn’t realise that this implies he’s put Carl in that exact kind of situation again. Instead he comments on how he appears ‘cute’. He’s trying so hard to be a better friend and he’s not quite getting it, bless him.

I also want to touch on Chase and Carl’s dynamic here because I’m not necessarily sure it’s a sign of density on Chase’s part. There’s a hesitancy and a lot left unsaid as Carl tentatively makes advances towards Chase. And while Chase may not always comment, he is clearly aware. He’s already had the option ti kiss Carl. I kind of like how the two slowly shifting their relationship to something more than platonic is done in quiet moments without much commentary from either character. They’re both well aware of what’s happening, but they’re both trying to figure out what they are to each other right now.

Raven:

Ok. Before we get to Raven, there’s a bit of an elephant in the room that needs to be addressed, one OP has briefly touched on. When you read criticisms of Echo, a very common one is that Carl’s route is the weakest. Or at least that, as the first to be completed, it doesn’t entirely line up with what the story evolved into later. Howly himself has said it kind of embarrasses him compared to his later work. And there’s even been suggestions floated for one of Echo Project’s other writers to take a shot at rewriting the climax, (thats still up in the air at the time of writing). Now, while I personally believe that Howly is being a touch harsh on his own work, I do agree that it is the weakest route. But I don’t necessarily want this to turn into a review of the game’s technical quality. So I’m going to try and take a good faith reading of the text and what it’s going for as writ, and leave it up to you to decide both whether I’m right about Howly’s intent when writing this and whether it works in execution. Is this a pre defence because I might be about to start reaching? Maybe.

Anyway, let’s talk about Raven. Raven is a pretty polarising character. It’s often said that he feels out of place, or lacks the necessary character development or connection to the wider story a person with this much screen time should have. You’ll often hear people say that you could take Raven out of the climax of Carl’s route, and replace him with Flynn, or Jeremy or several other characters with a bigger stake in the plot, and it would work better. But since this is the story that we got, I want to talk about what role Raven arguably does serve as it stands now.

Raven is one of several characters who were designed and named in tribute of one of Echo’s backers. Certain financialsupporters were able to have a character of their own cameo in the game (a fair inclusion in a game monetised solely through Patreon and donations). But I think when you line up these backer characters, their shared function is somewhat interesting. They all serve to give the one of the characters a social circle outside their extremely complicated, borderline toxic group. Raven is a well adjusted character remote from the group’s baggage. One Carl could potentially be much closer to if he were not so trapped in his own head (and room). He could be closer to Carl, but he isn’t, and there’s a reason for that. In that sense, he serves a similar narrative role that Daxton does for Flynn (and Carl to an extent), Julian does for TJ and Kudzu does for both Chase and Leo (the former in a romantic sense and the latter platonically). Much healthier alternative friendships and relationships who could do a lot of good for these characters and help them make a fresh start if they aren’t so weighed down by their baggage. The best thing for all these characters would be to get as far away from Echo as they can and start fresh with new relationships like these. He also serves to provide comedic levity as the story plunges into much darker territory. (Side note: the only two anomalies to this theory as to the role of the backer characters are Injy, who is purely a cameo and Micha. Though arguably Micha is important to getting Jenna to question her assumptions about the people who stayed in Echo, so he arguably still works in service of this analysis, as he is an interpersonal relationship that makes Jenna a better person, even though he’s arguably tied more closely to Chase and Leo).

And for the most part, I will leave it there. That’s my take on Raven, why he faces criticism and why I still think he works in the final product (mostly) even if I agree with some of the critiques of his role.

Anyway, before moving on, there are two other details that stood out to me about this scene.

-The game points out that Carl eats notably less when he’s out in public, because he’s expecting to be judged because of his weight. In retrospect it shines his back and forth with Flynn in a new light. For all the times Flynn rather cruelly made fun of his weight, he is at least comfortable enough around his friends that he doesn’t have to hide himself that way. He has no shame eating around the group because, for all their faults, he knows that they know him well enough not to judge him for something so unfair.

“If someone isn’t homophobic, gay relationships are usually “cute” or “adorable”.- Chase’s response to Raven’s inquiry about his relationship status provides a little more insight to why he was so uncomfortable as a queer man in Echo. The best treatment he could expect is condescension (intentional or no) if not outright bigotry. Or at least that’s how he felt, even if that may not have been Raven’s intention.

Chase’s dream:

Chase feels something crushing down on his body, opening his eyes to find the room tinged in blood red light. He feels a presence in the room laughing mockingly by his ear, but it leaves when he closes his eyes.

When he opens then again, Carl’s room is still empty and something drags him through the house into the crawlspace screaming threateningly at him. My personal interpretation is that this is another sign that the two ghosts that haunt Carl’s mansion are growing more active as the hysteria builds. It could be either James Hendricks or John Begay. If it is James, he has recognised that Chase is a threat because he has started to uncover the truth. If it is John, it may because he sees Chase as allied with Carl (and James by extension) hence why he acts so violent later in the route. I personally believe it is the latter, as James is later characterised as relying on charismatic manipulation than outright threats of violence like this.

Friday:

-Chase begins to figure out that Carl is tampering with the information about James Hendricks. Including the passage about John Begay. Clearly, James’ influence over Carl is growing stronger and more frequent.

Chase and Leo at the diner:

-Chase and Leo’s talk in the the diner has been a long time coming. This follow up to their complicated situation has been building since the prologue. First of all, it forces Chase to confront that he’s been putting his relationships on hold to hang out with Carl. It’s a moment where Chase has to recognise his desire to avoid a difficult situation as somewhat selfish, when Leo attempts to bring back a topic Chase has been pointedly avoiding. It’s a moment that plays into Chase’s character arc in Carl’s route of becoming a more considerate friend to the people around him.

However, what dominates this discussion is Sydney’s death and how badly it affected the whole group. Leo is finally able to express his feelings of survivor’s guilt and how it fuelled his overprotectiveness towards the rest of the group. This puts his later actions in his own route, including his controlling behaviour and fixation on their old pack, into perspective. However, it’s clear there is more going on here. This conversation is cathartic but it only scratches the surface of everything wrong with the group. Leo needs to believe that the main thing that damaged everyone was Sydney’s death, and to an extent, he’s right. But he ends up simplifying the topic because he needs to believe that this situation fixable, that their group isn’t beyond repair. When Chase mentions that Carl’s anxiety is more complicated than just an after effect of that incident, Leo ignores him. When Chase tries to say Jenna was able to find fulfilment by leaving Echo, Leo plows on. This belief that everything wrong with the group all goes back purely to Sydney fuels Leo’s decision to go back to the lake and find closure. The attempt is admirable, but the baggage weighing down this group is far more complicated than that alone. So he ends up rushing things, effectively manipulating the others into coming to the lake, trying to resolve ‘eleven years of baggage’ in one day. As well meaning as the attempt is, it’s doomed to disaster. This arguably the most well intentioned attempt Leo makes to reunite the group, but it also demonstrates that, out of naivety or sheer stubbornness, he is greatly underestimating the complexity of everyone’s situation.

I also appreciate your commentary on how the ‘afternoon sun’ invokes the sunrise/sunset motif of Chase and Leo’s relationship that has been touched on previously. Indeed, the game even uses the same sunset background for this scene as the epilogue of Leo’s route. This is actually a touchingly pleasant moment between Chase and Leo that highlights how much of their conflict is rooted in a lack of communication. The most sincere moments between the two, (Leo’s good ending, their conversation in Flynn’s route, Leo opening up about his problems in Jenna’s route) are the moments where they talk, openly and frankly, instead of using each other as emotional crutches to not think about their problems. And they’re both better for it. However, as much as Leo needed to near that the group are adults and not his responsibility to herd together (nor should he blame himself for Sydney’s death) this scene only scratches the surface of the pair’s issues. When Leo tries to hint towards the topic of ‘you and me’, Chase notably doesn’t comment. Leo clearly has not given up on revisiting this topic and reconciling and Chase, for all his growth, is still avoiding the issue. There is still hope that the pair’s friendship at least can be salvaged, but only if they talk honestly, even moreso than they did here. Whether they succeed in doing so on other routes remains to be seen…

Saturday:

Carl’s sprite now changes for the rest of the route after his beard and outfit have been changed. While Chase and Raven are excited to see him cleaned up, it serves as an effective visual indicator of Carl being changed, made into a different person, which pairs with the underlying subtext of rest of the route.

-The player is given a minor choice about whether to encourage Carl to where the beanie or not. Interestingly though, regardless of the player’s choice, Carl will still wear it. For the first time, when he’s at his most uncomfortable, when he feels like even Chase is unduly pressuring him, Carl puts his foot down and makes his own choice. It’s a choice that backfires, but it’s still a significant, if subtle, moment in his character arc.

Note that when Chase opts to tell Carl about the plan to go to the lake (the thing Leo was reluctant to do for the rest) he agrees it’s a good idea, despite arguably being the most socially anxious of the group. Yet another sign that a little emotional honesty would do this group wonders and attempting to manipulate everyone back into being friends (however well intentioned) rather than just speaking honestly is doomed to disaster.

Carl’s interview:

Carl’s interview is the culmination of a slowly building tension across the past few days. Carl has been pressured by his family to interview for a job he doesn’t feel cut out for. He’s then pressured by Chase, the one person he thought would never ask too much of him, to reinvent himself in a way that feels uncomfortable and unfamiliar. As Carl himself says ‘this isn’t me’. And that attempt to be someone he isn’t causes his interview to fail, in turn sending him spiralling further into self defeating misery. Carl will never become more self reliant if he continues going along with what other people tell him is best for him as they talk at him. If his heart’s not in it, he’ll inevitably be doomed to keep failing. This is why he needs to decide what he wants for himself, to find his own motivation. Because otherwise he’ll only either continue to stagnate in his room, or throw himself repeatedly against the wall as he tries to appease other people. Not for the last time this week, Carl became someone he isn’t to make the people around him happy, which is a miserable way to live one’s life.

It’s at this moment that Chase finally realises ‘that I’d become exactly what he said I wasn’t, what he liked me for not being.’ Chase, realising he hasn’t been there for Carl as much as he could have, which is further muddled by the growing feelings between the two, has tried to help Carl as best he can. But ended up pushing too much, too hard. Carl liked having Chase around because he never put pressure on him, but the consequence was that Chase could be noncommittal, and not help enough when Carl needed it. In trying to fix that, he ends up doing the opposite, exactly what Carl’s parents, Jenna, and everyone else in his life keeps doing.

However, even if the circumstances leading to it were unfair, Carl’s ability to maturely accept that ‘I’m the one that screwed up the interview’ is a sign that he is growing. And it allows him to move onto another difficult social situation without complaint. Much like the beanie choice, this is a small subtle moment that shows Carl is slowly coming into his own.

The lake:

The group find the lake has changed dramatically in all the time they’ve stayed away, something Chase alluded to at the river. Just as ‘Echo is trying really hard to stay alive’ so too Leo tries desperately to keep their group alive.

At first, the meeting is just as much a disaster as expected. Flynn blows up just as he did last time. Leo’s attempt to moderate quickly turns into aggression. It all looks like it’ll end the exact same way. Only this time, Chase, the most indecisive member of the group, intervenes. In an act that he admits is ‘really just for me’, Chase steps out into the lake that has symbolised both his self expression and his trauma for years. And in doing so, he inspires the others to come join him. For just one moment they’re able to face their fear and find a moment of catharsis and healing. Chase’s inner thoughts capture the thesis of the entire game: that you can’t change the past. And, as important as honesty and communication are, that also means accepting that there are some things you can’t just talk out. Sometimes, you can just accept reality and move forward.

…But doing that is much easier said than done. And sometimes one moment of clarity isn’t enough to magically fix anything.

-As Chase succumbs to sleep paralysis, metaphorically bound/anchored to the place of his trauma, dangerously close to dying the same way that Sydney did, he hears a voice mocking him for thinking it would be so easy. Is it Sam? Is it Sydney? It’s unclear (though given Sam is often represented by a distinct font, I’m inclined to think it’s the latter). I think that OP is correct that this may be another sign that the supernatural influence may have been imagined slightly differently in earlier drafts of the story. But this holdover still serves the theme. In fact, given we’re on the cusp of the hysteria, this might be that Chase getting his own little taste of it, as Echo itself weaponises his guilt against him.

-This moment causes the previous tranquil atmosphere to collapse. Nearly losing another friend in the exact same way they lost their first is so damaging that the group spirals into chaos. Flynn’s anger at TJ finally breaks, as does Leo’s at Flynn’s. For a moment, they came close to finding healing, but it wasn’t enough, and now they’re more torn apart than ever. As far as Carl’s route goes, this is the end of the friend group. Only Chase, Carl and Jenna will go on to have a large role in the narrative. Leo, Flynn and TJ are left to the hysteria, which will likely magnify their existing conflict, and as we later learn, destroys their fragile relationship for good.

-Carl’s route is arguably the most removed from both the death of Sydney, and the mass hysteria. As such, it is recommended by the developers to be played first. And I believe this moment is why. Carl’s route gives is glimpses of what the group needs to do to heal, but it’s not enough. Leo and Chase get to talk, but they don’t unpack everything. The group attempts to face their trauma, but it only lasts a moment. We’re given a taste of how these people could become better, but it’s also made clear that these issues go far deeper than originally thought. It will require us to go deeper, play more routes, if we want even a hope of any kind of more lasting recovery. Contrary to what Leo thought. Sydney’s death was clearly just the tip of the iceberg of everything that’s wrong here. It will take far more than this one moment to fix things.

And that’s all for my interpretation of this part of Carl’s route. Thank you once again OP for providing these book club analyses and I look forward to your next one.

(Indenting here because this app keeps cutting off the last paragraphs of my posts on mobile, thanks Tumblr(!))

-Carl’s route is arguably the most removed from both the death of Sydney, and the mass hysteria. As such, it is recommended by the developers to be played first. And I believe this moment is why. Carl’s route gives is glimpses of what the group needs to do to heal, but it’s not enough. Leo and Chase get to talk, but they don’t unpack everything. The group attempts to face their trauma, but it only lasts a moment. We’re given a taste of how these people could become better, but it’s also made clear that these issues go far deeper than originally thought. It will require us to go deeper, play more routes, if we want even a hope of any kind of more lasting recovery. Because this? Clearly wasn’t enough. Contrary to what Leo thought, Sydney’s death was only the tip of the iceberg of everything wrong here. And any lasting solution will require much more than this one moment. And that’s all for my interpretation of this part of Carl’s route. Thank you once again OP for providing these book club analyses and I look forward to your next one.

And that’s all for my interpretation of this part of Carl’s route. Thank you once again OP for providing these book club analyses and I look forward to your next one.

-Carl’s route is arguably the most removed from both the death of Sydney, and the mass hysteria. As such, it is recommended by the developers to be played first. And I believe this moment at the lake is why. Carl’s route gives glimpses of what the group needs to do to heal, but it’s not enough. Leo and Chase get to talk, but they don’t unpack everything. The group attempts to face their trauma, but it only lasts a moment. We’re given a taste of how these people could become better, but it’s also made clear that these issues go far deeper than originally thought. It will require us to go deeper, play more routes, if we want even a hope of any kind of more lasting recovery. Because this? Clearly wasn’t enough.

And that’s all for my interpretation of this part of Carl’s route. Thank you once again OP for providing these book club analyses and I look forward to your next one.

Furry Visual Novel Book Club: Echo Week 5

Hi everyone, here is the SPOILER discussion post for “Echo - Carl’s Thursday/Friday/Saturday”  

Links: Previous - Next - Original - Spoiler Free Version

Feel free to respond in reblogs/replies/or asks :D

Keep reading

[ofdanny]

inspos.

   memory’s are so treacherous. one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights, with poignant childhood aromas, the flashing of neon puberty, all that sentimental candyfloss -- the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go... somewhere dark and cold, filled with damp, ambiguous shapes of thinks you’d hoped were  F O R G O T T E N.

   my anee just tucked me in. she smells good. smells like fresh shampoo and mint. i like my anee. she's gives me warm hugs and always smiles at me. i like my anee. a hard slam makes me jump--- it's daddy. he's angry again, and just the thought of that makes me pull the covers over my head to protect me from his loud voice and bad breath. he hasn't been very nice lately. he yells at mommy and she yells back--- like now. words like drugs and paperwork and drinks and money pop our to me. mommy yells at daddy for working too much and not paying attention to her... the words confuse me. mommy... i wait for a long time and then wait even longer before i show myself again. the yelling has stopped and i want to see mommy. another hard slam tells me its over for good. i release a breathe I didn't know i was holding. mommy. i scoot out of bed, and my four-year-old feet take me as fast as they can to mommy's room. i stand outside of the door and i feel my heart beating too fast. i knock, just the way she taught me to before entering.

   i push it open to find her sitting on her too-big-bed, staring. just staring. she says nothing. i climb onto the bed with all of my strength. i like this bed. it could be bigger than my room. the thought makes me grin but it quickly leaves when she finally looks at me. 

   " hi, baby. brush mommy's hair ?? "  my eyebrows shoot up, nodding my head quickly. i love mommy's hair: black, soft, long. she smells of perfume and something that burns my nose. i sit up on my knees, my eyes eager as she tosses her waves down her back. i take the brush in hand and smoothly, carefully pull it through the strands. mommy sighs heavily. 

   " baby, want do you want ?? do you want something new ?? " my nose curls up. no, mommy, i want you. she glances at me then laughs at my reaction. the sound makes my heart all warm. " it's as if you know our scheme to keep you 'entertained'--- you don't say much but you're smart, daniel. "  mommy thinks i'm smart. mommy thinks i'm smart. suddenly i feel ten feet tall. i silently continue to comb through the dark curls. mommy says i have her hair. what does that mean ?? i wish I had mommy's hair. i love mommy's hair. 

" how's are your piano lessons ?? "  i want to whine--- not because of piano. i don't want to talk. but, for mommy, i find my voice. " good. "  i say. she turns and gives me her big smile. " play for me sometime. "  i nod my head again, vigorously. yes, yes i love to play for her. i love mommy.

   i stroke through her hair once, twice... she says nothing. and now she's sniffling--- oh no. my lip quivers and a bad feeling squeezes my throat. i drop the brush and climb into her lap. " no--- daniel not now. "  she grabs me from under my arms and sets me on the floor. " it's past your bedtime. get out. get out, right now. "  she's angry. oh no, i brushed too hard. i brushed too hard. mommy, i'm sorry. tell her you're sorry. 

   " mommy i--- "  she shoves me to the floor. 

   " get out !! "  my eyes are wet like mommy's. " ana !! get the fuck in here, get this pest !! " my chest hurts--- mommy didn't touch my chest, but my chest hurts--- my fingers clutch my my chest, tears streaming down my heated cheeks.

   the overwhelming smell of mint fills my nostrils, firm hands gripping my side. no, don't touch me. i find my voice again and i scream. mommy. mommy. mommy. before i know it, my anee has me pressed to her chest and is closing the door. i lose my voice and i stop crying. mommy is gone. mommy is different. my anee rocks me even though i’ve stopped crying and hums something familiar softly, my head in her chest. she's trying to make me feel better, i know. she lays me down in my bed again, but this time she doesn't kiss me and leave like before. she gets on her knees and wipes away my drying tears.

   " danny, are you okay ?? "  her fingers brush my shaggy hair from my forehead, then my shoulders, then my they squeeze my arms slightly. i pay attention to how her eyes are as frantic as her movements. i nod in response. " no words for me tonight ?? " she gives me her small smile. i blink at her and she frowns deeply. " it's okay, baby. you did well in talking today... and you've had a rough night. maybe some more tomorrow ?? " i blink at her twice this time. “ would you like me to stay, danny ?? ” i nod this time. “ okay. no more questions.“  she settles into my oversized bed with me and i scoot over to give her room. her eyes become shiny and i know what's coming next. "i love you, baby. "  hesitantly, my small hand raises to her cheek and i hold it there, the way she does for me when i'm sad. she seems sad. she leans into it and smiles again. i lay my head on her chest and close my eyes. i don’t go to sleep. anee won’t push me. anee won’t yell at me. i love my anee.

[ladyelainehilfur]

even if I didn't already know that Bumseok (forcing myself to use the korean name to avoid confusion) was going to betray them, I don't think I would've supported their friendship. That relationship had cracks from the very 👏 beginning 👏‼😀

Bryce never understood the fundamentals of a solid relationship. Friendships are not transactional, I do this for you, then you give me love and affection and attention. That's not how it works.

Gray and Stephen (DAMMIT I MEAN SUHO AND SIEUN) bonded because they found a need they were able to fulfill within each other. More importantly, they were willing to help each other, no strings attached. Stephen needed Gray's companionship and Gray needed Stephen's warmth. If Stephen was absent, Gray would worry instead of thinking he was abandoned. If Gray became cold, Step--SUHO WOULD TAKE IT IN STRIDE.

Anyways, Bumseok thought all he needed was money to buy their loyalty. Suho and Sieun never cared about his money; they just wanted him to feel comfortable around them. Unfortuntely, the moment Suho failed to be the perfect friend, Bumseok started turning on him. There is a very thin line between love and hate, and that one mistake of forgetting to follow Bumseok on insta caused Bumseok to dig deeper for more of Suho's faults.

And the really big problem is that he never thought to communicate his feelings. Bumseok does not realize friends aren't mind-readers and a successful friendship is one where there is two-way communication. For example, Suho knew Sieun's parents were mostly absent and thus understood Sieun's loner tendencies. Sieun knows Suho works part time jobs, so he doesn't get upset if Suho falls asleep and misses something they planned.

There was no way for Suho and Sieun to know Bumseok was being abused at home because Bumseok never told them. How was Suho supposed to know he doesn't like being talked down to, and he hates being left out, and all he has are them?

It makes sense that he doesn't understand why he did all those horrible things to Suho. He knows Suho never did anything wrong but he cares about his feelings above anyone else's. He's already abused at home, would it have killed Suho to change his entire personality just a little to accommodate the fact he needs to have his feelings satisfied? He was also angry they would so easily share their time and affection with Young yi even though he was there first. He was there first. They were supposed to be his group of inseparable friends. She ruined everything. It's all her fault.

Well, he knows it's not her fault, but he can't very well blame himself. He was abused at home so to him, he's always the victim in every situation no matter what. Anything he does, he believes he's within his right to do as the victim. He only sent people to beat up Suho because Suho hurt him first. Suho hurt him by not following him back. Suho hurt him by not choosing him over Young yi. Suho hurt him by acting like everything was okay and that their arguments were no big deal.

Suho is straight forward, no nonsense, what happens in Vegas stays there. Sieun is more than fine with that, but Bumseok never was. Everything always had to reach its logical conclusion: with everyone knowing their roles in his trauma (even though HE DOESN'T COMMUNICATE HIS TRAUMA), he'd get a heartfelt apology and in return, he'd keep spending money on them and they'd give him love.

But Suho doesn't really apologize to anyone (not even Sieun) so that friendship was never going to work out, was it.

[itsmercurial]

TWO | fools, meddlers, and maids

anthony bridgerton x fem!reader | the social season of 1808 was a time when another mother only hoped for her daughter to be sensible and to find love and companionship within a society where marriage was a woman's only option. And to her, she had found it even if it was a bit mysterious how. (3.5k)

a/n: also edited a little bit compared to the original post in my prev writing blog (infeffablename/daydream-hoe). jane l/n is y/n's mother in this story just to make the pov chapter flow better. The gif is made by @ladycolinbridgerton from this gifset. hope u guys enjoy :)))

THE SOCIAL SEASON OF 1808 | (part one) (part two) (part three)

Marrying into the L/N family, Jane thought she had seen the most foolish people in her whole life. She loved them, yes, but they all acted foolishly. Her husband’s father was a wealthy landowner and he, himself, had inherited a generous amount despite being a second son. He was quite sensible back then, he bought a quaint and cozy cottage in the country, near his brother’s estate, and then he married her.

She was the governess of his younger cousins and she knew he was a fool the moment they met. He lost to a child of eight years in a game of chess and he humiliated himself in front of numerous people during a ball. And yet, she fell in love with him, quickly and deeply. They married, enveloped in passion and lovers’ bliss, and soon enough, they were blessed with a healthy and beautiful child.

A lively girl who had a habit of scrunching up her face whenever seeing her parents show even the slightest bit of affection towards each other. With that expression, they knew when you were to vomit as a baby, they could easily predict all your upcoming actions, and most particularly, they could sense your dislike or disapproval of any person. You were a good judge of character while growing up, Jane smiled as she remembered all of your kind and hilarious antics. Actions that were passed unto your beautiful children.

You were all that they could ever ask for, their hearts were full with just the smile on your face.

But along the years, Jane forgot about her first impression of her husband being a fool. The smiles in your faces were gone the moment your father had gambled most of your money. Jane could still feel the slight pain in her palm brought by disappointment of her husband. You were only eight but you were smart, you knew that your future was not as promising as it once was.

Jane saw the realization dawning on you at such a young age. She saw the light and hope in your eyes diminish. She saw you begin to settle with the thought of working diligently for the rest of your days. She knew from the moment you asked if you could sell your dolls or tutors some kids nearby, she knew.

And she wanted to curse her husband each day for it. But still, she loved him, and she continued to love him regardless of his idiotic mistakes and flaws. She loved that he overcame his pride and asked his brother for some kind of employment. She loved how he supported her choice to go back to being a governess.

She loved him, fool and all.

She wanted that love for you too, but with a sensible man fit for her slightly sensible daughter. She wanted you to relish in the beauty and serenity brought by love and all its intertwined emotions.

And so, she wrote some letters.

She was never the one to meddle often and act like an ambitious mother but you never liked any boy or man in the country, you had not even tried to get to know them deeply enough to form a connection. Thus, there was another place left where she could get you to socialize…

Her sister-in-law, the wife of her husband’s brother, had been the daughter of an Earl, presented into society and went through the social season. That meant that she was eligible to present you in front of the queen— and that she did.

Not that it went well. Jane would grimace every time the memory resurfaced. You walked forward, the queen’s eyes uninterested as usual and yours mirroring it too. You were clumsy and you even scoffed, quiet but heard, when Her Majesty nodded briefly as a sign of approval.

A debutante with a small four figure dowry and an unrefined character, the scandal sheets wrote. None of them named who but everyone knew it was you.

Jane could still see your tight smile in Lady Cowper’s ballroom as you spoke with a baron, around you were numerous mamas whispering about you to their friends. Your eyes pleading for help and while she knew you had to put yourself out there to have at least one called the next day, she relented.

“Excuse me Lord Fletcher, but I noticed that my daughter had been quite pale and she felt ill this morning…” Jane intervened and Lord Fletcher’s eyebrows knitted in worry.

“Oh… well, I must apologize that I had not noticed, Mrs. L/N, Miss Y/N,” he said and the two of you smiled at him. “I would not mind if you were to leave before we get the chance to dance, your wellbeing must come first and there are more balls in the season.”

“Thank you, my Lord. And I, too, must apologize. I hope to see you soon,” you responded and then, you bid him farewell. Jane called her sister-in-law and informed her of what occurred, leading to the three of you in a carriage home that night.

You were the first to speak up, thanking your mother and aunt for letting you leave early. You spoke of the hideous gowns, ridiculous gossiping, and dull men that you encountered in less than a few hours. Your aunt was amused but Jane knew what you were up to. You had promised not to do it but here you were, doing it.

You were telling them that there was no one of interest that caught your eye, no one you could see yourself enjoying the presence of. And while that may have been true that night— many men of the ton are truly dull— Jane knew that you were not even going to try in finding a husband. A long courtship could be granted for love to develop but you needed to try at least for that chance to be presented. There should not be just one person putting effort into it.

Whether that one person was her or any other gentleman.

“We are to have dinners with the Bridgertons tomorrow. They are a lovely famil—” Jane informed her daughter, your eyes narrowed at her and at your aunt who had nodded innocently. Jane had been acquainted with the lovely Violet Bridgerton earlier and found out that she had two sons older than Y/N and one slightly younger, though the second and third were still in Oxford and Eton respectively.

Jane did not even have to direct their conversation into the topic of a potential courtship— the Bridgerton matriarch graciously offered an invitation to her home which she could not help but accept.

“I thought you were not to meddle?”

“And I thought you were to try?” You pouted, caught, and crossed your arms, not meeting your mother’s eyes. Jane rolled hers. “Guess we both lied then.”

Jane regretted nothing as you sat next to Eloise Bridgerton, Francesca beside her, during dinner. You conversed easily with the elder as the other only added into the discussion from time to time. Daphne, the eldest daughter, sat in front of Francesca, next to Anthony who was at the head of the table. Little Gregory and Hyacinth next to her as Jane sat next to you and her sister-in-law in front of her.

Jane kept nudging you subtly, glancing at the Viscount after you turned to look at her. Talk to him, her eyes begged but all you did was raise your brow and shake your head.

She did not know what your problem was. The Viscount was lovely from what she gathered. He was handsome, almost four-and-twenty, and a graduate from Oxford. Jane wanted to smack your head for how foolish you were acting. You seemed like you were summoning it from your father, Jane noted to write to him, maybe he could persuade you.

“And you are all named alphabetically? That is very orderly with the knowledge that there are eight of you, I applaud your parents at the method,” you told Eloise, a girl of twelve years, who was one of the most opinionated and spirited girls Jane had ever encountered. Your voice was drowned by the chattering but Jane used her proximity to her advantage.

It was wrong, she should not meddle with her daughter’s life… But she was her daughter and it was better to meddle than for her to waste her life away, alone and unloved.

“Yes, we are. Anthony is first, or course, he has always been in his study since he graduated— not with a first but he studied history and some literature. Then, Benedict and Colin who are both away, studying, how blessed they must be to be born male and be given that opportunity, Then, came, Daphne, me, Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth. Honestly, it is utterly unfair that only men can attend university when they are not even smart enough,” Eloise answered, lowering her voice when it came to her highly unpopular opinion. She talked so fast that Jane wondered how you managed to catch what she said as you nodded in response.

“I concur, and the expectations of a woman having numerous “accomplishments” is also disappointing,” you scoffed at the thought of watercolors and embroidery. Eloise agreed with you but before she could speak, Anthony spoke up— shocking everyone since he had been silent all evening.

There was a certain glint in his eyes as he looked at you, Jane noticed, and it was the same with you. She wondered if the two of you had met prior to that night.

“But since you are out in our society, Miss Y/N, what are your accomplishments?” He asked and your face scrunched up at the question, indicating your clear distaste towards the Viscount. Jane once again noted the edge in his voice as he said your name. What had occurred?

“Brother! What type of question is that when Y/N said that—” Eloise was cut off and Jane wanted to bury her face in her hands with how she knew her daughter was to act.

“What an ignorant thing to say and thus, I shall not answer, my Lord, and give you the satisfaction of knowing whether I conformed to fit those expectations of plenty, including you, who I do not need the validation from.” Your nose flared as you glared at him which he returned with a glower.

Another possible match destroyed, Jane had thought until the next morning came and to everyone’s surprise, Anthony Bridgerton called on you with a bouquet of flowers in hand. Jane eyed the daisies in his hand, they were your favorite flowers…

“I believe you have certain appointments with the hairdresser, my dear aunt. And mother, were you not to accompany her?” You asked them before they could ask about the flowers. Anthony was sitting politely in front of you as a maid offered a biscuit which he took.

Jane’s sister-in-law’s eyes widened as she recalled it and soon enough, they left the two of you with only a few maids to chaperone.

Of course, those maids were not exactly tight-lipped about what happened. Jane asked and they spilled everything. You and the Viscount were whispering at first so they had not heard much but then the harsh whispers soon became loud statements. They argued, they said, there was not much context since that had been discussed quietly but there were words such as 'conscience' and ‘liar’ that were thrown.

They have met before, Jane concludwd. Perhaps it was days before the season when you were simply settling in.

There was also laughter, the maids giggled. The two laughed about a joke no one understood. And then there was the kitchen fiasco. The two of you entered the kitchen, the cook was present of course, and the next thing the maids knew, you came out with soot and flour covering your faces.

Peculiar it was, and it was not only Jane who thought so. Scandal sheets spoke of an unlikely courtship that blossomed. The presence of daisies never left her sister-in-law’s drawing room as the Viscount sent them almost every day like he was trying to make a greenhouse of the home. You danced with him during balls too and promenaded with him at almost every social event. Dinners with the Bridgertons also became common for the family, they were more bearable now that the two of you were not ignoring each other. Although Jane could not help but laugh at the times when Violet would imply marriage.

She wondered about it too, hopefully it was not a mere dalliance as it could ruin your reputation that was already being tarnished by the awful gossip-mongers and scandal sheets— Jane had never seen a more toxic community than that of the ton.

The day came when Jane asked what was to become of your time together with the Viscount, you responded, “Why does anything have to happen? We are only enjoying each other’s company.”

You spoke too soon, Jane thought and she wanted to laugh, and she would have, if not for the stronger feeling of disappointment and horror weighing deeper than the amusement and irony.

Only minutes before, she was walking with the Queen, Lady Danbury, Lady Bridgerton, and her sister-in-law. Only minutes before, they were enjoying the beauty of the paintings in Somerset. Only minutes before, they turned to where the Queen had said held a painting of Lady Danbury’s father.

They did turn and what they saw had all their eyes wide and jaws dropped.

The position of the painting in the house was secluded from others and not many frequented to see it and apparently, it was a good enough reason for her daughter to be up against the wall, pressed against Anthony Bridgerton in the most scandalous of ways.

The Viscount murmured something unintelligibly against her daughter’s lips, his hands hiking up your skirt as your hands were tangled in his hair, giggling softly at the word.

Lady Danbury hit the floor with her cane twice, before the two of you could show even more indecency.

He pulled away in shock, the two of you appeared disheveled, eyes also wide like deer spotted at night. “Uh-uh—” you stuttered, your eyes dropping down to the floor once you spotted Her Majesty. Jane could see that your eyes glistened before that, though she did not know why.

Was it because you knew what the scandal would bring? More ruin to our family, Jane sighed. Of all the people, why did she even think of walking with the Queen and Lady Danbury, a wonderful companion but also very talkative and assertive.

“I certainly hope to be invited to the wedding then,” The Queen said, curt, and she smiled at the young couple, leaving all of them agape with the exception of Lady Danbury who was smirking at the incident.

They should be thankful that the season was unexciting that the Queen was thrilled at their actions, Lady Danbury had told them in the Bridgerton House as they all left Somerset as quickly as possible. Jane was shocked to find out that your relationship with Anthony was the only thing that the Queen enjoyed that season.

And they were to take advantage of that. The Queen easily got bored so to prevent her causing a scandal that would ruin both families, the two got married in three days.

Thankfully, Jane’s husband, your father, was able to arrive before the nuptials so that he could give you away. And it had been a small ceremony with the Queen in attendance, of course. Your smile was forced, that much was obvious, as you walked to your husband. Jane thought that the two of you would fall in love, of course you would, it was obvious in how you two looked at each other when no one else bothered to observe or be perspicacious for once in their simple-minded lives.

Although what made Jane wonder for years was that she never knew exactly what had occurred between you and the Viscount. No one truly knew the events that led to the two of you in that position in Somerset and it seemed that the two of you made sure that no one ever will.

For a time, Jane did not care. Her only daughter was married and she built a family with someone she came to love. Your children, Edmund and James, were the sweetest kids Jane has ever encountered. And that meant a lot as she did spend a great time in her life teaching the young. (Although she was truly a bit biased given that they are her grandsons.)

But now, as she sat in Aubrey Hall, having tea with her daughter as their eyes followed the boys who were outside, playing with the toys that her husband had bought them from Wales.

The bags under your eyes were deep, your hair resembled that of when you were younger and messier, your smile was small, and your head was not in England.

She wanted to ask what happened, but you never answered her properly. Jane liked to ask herself when you had begun to drift from her but you were never quite open with other people. They always had to rely on your facial expressions to know what you were thinking. Jane even depended on the maids to find out what was happening in your household.

Mornings are always full of happiness and laughter, a maid would tell her when she visits.

They would enter Lord Anthony and Lady Y/N’s bedroom early in the morning even before anyone was awake, the maid would add. From outside of the door, they would hear your laughter as your husband and children tickled you. Adorable giggles would fill the room and once it died down, the maids would knock. They would collect the children as they had prepared their bath and you and your husband would be left alone.

You never asked them to help you with dressing and Jane thought that was a good sign. A sign that you and your husband loved spending mornings with each other, the sun shining through your windows as you would show your love to each oth—

“He spent nights in another woman’s bed while we were in the same city,” you whispered and Jane noticed that you were not looking at her. Your eyes were following the children as they laughed, “Well, I think he did… He did not deny it and he was defensive when I asked.”

There was an ache in her heart with how your voice was so broken and hurt. She did not know if it were true, she wished it wasn’t. Cruel may her thoughts be but she rather wishes it to happen to her worst enemy than to you, her only child, the first person she ever loved so greatly that nothing will ever surpass it. “Darling, you should not assume—”

“He was not going home to his family or to us. He had an apartment on the other side of town. He never tried to assure me he wasn’t when we left.” Your hands shook as you put down your cup. Your eyes were glossy and when a tear fell, you wiped it away quickly.

“Y/N, you still should not assume such things. He loves you. I know he does.”

“Does he? Do you?” you questioned with a sardonic smile on your face, finally facing her, the tears must have blurred your vision then though you did nothing. “He warned me, told me years ago that he would not love me, that he could not… and I accepted it. Continued receiving daisies— do you know I cannot even stomach the sight of them anymore? Continued dancing in balls that I hated with every fiber of my being. C-continued laughing with him, smiling with him… loving him.”

Jane always prided herself in knowing almost everything with her family. She put them above everything else which was why she asked and which was why she resorted to meddling at times but this… She didn’t know.

Who could have known? Who could have known that two people who appeared utterly in love with each other were not? Who could have known the heartache that both, or one, experienced? Who could have?

“Sweethe—”

“I’m a fool, aren’t I?” The tears were falling now and she could not help but gather you into her arms, providing the warmth a mother could bring. She whispered words of comfort, of love, disagreeing with her statements. A sob tore at your throat and Jane could feel her heart crumbling at the sound. “I am! A stupid, stupid, stupid fool whose values and morals disappear every time he fucking smiles at me.”

Indeed, Jane had thought she had seen the most foolish people in the face of her husband and her daughter but at that moment, as you, her daughter, clutched to her for comfort, repeating how you were a stupid fool, she thought Anthony Bridgerton the greatest fool of all.

[kyuuppi]

“You lie to your best friend/crush that you have an OnlyFans just to see their reaction”

Ft. Sugawara; Nishinoya; Tsukishima; Oikawa; Kenma

Pt. 2

A/N: My bias is so obvious here LOL

KARASUNO

↳ Sugawara

➣  You are over at his house, the two of you idly watching a sitcom while browsing your phones and chatting in between; it’s comfortable, as times with Sugawara usually are.

➣  Every time Suga leans in to show you a funny meme on his phone or throws his head back in laughter at a joke from the show, you find your heart skipping a beat.

➣  He is beautiful, basically an angel in your eyes, but he is also your best friend and you don’t think he has any interest in you like that. Not in the way you do. 

➣  That’s how you get the idea to test his feelings. 

➣  Being the troublemaker you are (how else would you and Suga get along so well?) you decide to shake things up by casually mentioning you’re interested in starting an OnlyFans and asking if he thinks its a good idea. 

➣  You expect either of two reactions: either he’ll be as supportive as usual, possibly advising you to be cautious with strangers online like the mother hen he is, proving he only sees you as a friend—or he’ll tell you not to, possible evidence that likes you.

➣  The response you receive is not quite what you were expecting...

➣  Once the words leave your lips his head immediately whips around in your direction, light brown eyes looking at you with a serious expression on his face, something you’d never really seen before. It makes you uncomfortable and you begin to regret all of your life decisions.

➣  Suddenly though, he is leaning into you, his arms coming up to trap you against the couch as you try to back away. Your eyes are as wide as saucers and face completely flushed as he continues to stare you down before speaking.

➣  “Even though I’m your best friend, I’m still a man, you know. You’re being awfully cruel right now.”

➣ You audibly gulp, suddenly feeling light-headed but he keeps speaking, close enough that you can feel his hot breath fan across your cheeks.

➣ “Asking me to watch the person I like show off in front of thousands of other men? Even I have my limits.”

➣ And that marks the day of you and Sugawara’s first kiss. ♡

↳ Nishinoya

➣  Your best friend, Nishinoya Yuu, is notoriously unabashed with his affections. 

➣ The two of you have an interesting relationship—Noya has no qualms with expressing how pretty he thinks you are, borderline flirting with you at times, and you frequently return the favor. 

➣  But you don’t take any of it seriously, of course, regardless of how much you secretly wish it were real. Everyone at Karasuno knows about Noya’s undying dedication to the volleyball club manager, Shimizu Kiyoko, and he confesses his love to her at least twice a day. 

➣ Unbeknownst to you those professions became less and less frequent after he met you and now most of Karasuno thinks the two of you are basically dating

➣ The two of you are at the mall, a frequent hang out place where Noya can look at volleyball gear and you can browse manga at the bookstore, when you get the idea to prank your friend.

➣ “Hey, Noya? I’ve been thinking about finding a way to make more money but I don’t have time for a part-time job so I decided to make an OnlyFans—I already have a few subscribers.”

➣ Nishinoya nearly trips and falls flat on his face. You would have laughed if it weren’t for how he immediately grabs at your shoulders, staring at you with a mix of anger and fear. 

➣ “Absolutely not! No one should be allowed to see your beautiful body like that but me!”

➣ You immediately fluster at his loud declaration, acutely aware of how other customers in the mall are giving the two of your strange looks as they walk by. 

➣ “B-but Noya, we aren’t even dating—”

➣ “Then let’s start dating!” 

➣ And what are you gonna do? Say no?

↳ Tsukishima

➣ Being friends with Tsukishima could be frustrating at times—a sentiment you and Yamaguchi frequently discuss when the blond isn’t around. 

➣ Tsukishima likes to think most things are beneath him and he’s too cool to find enjoyment in activities most other friends enjoy, ranging from mini golf to video games. The man seems content to waste his life away studying and listening to music if it weren’t for you and Yamaguchi forcing him out of his room. 

➣ Naturally, something like a prank war would be something Tsukishima would want no part of—not that that has ever stopped you. 

➣ Usually, your pranks are failures. Either Tsukishima easily figures out what you’re doing before it can happen or he doesn’t give you the satisfaction of a reaction, chastising you for wasting your time pulling pranks when you have a failing grade in mathematics you’ll later beg him to help you study for.

➣ He still helps you though, he’s whipped

➣ Your newest prank however, you feel exceptionally confident in. Not only is it simple to pull off, only relying on your acting kills, but it also might answer your curiosity on whether you have a chance in getting your dearest Tsukki to see you as more than just a friend.

➣ The day you decide to do it the three of you are hanging out in Tsukishima’s bedroom as usual, you working on the math homework Tsukishima forced you to study while he reads a book and Yamaguchi sits in the corner reading a book.

➣ You had already discussed your plans with Yama beforehand, to which his expression looked suspiciously devious, like he knew something you didn’t know, as he proclaimed his support. 

➣ You hear Tsukishima turning a page and decide to speak up. 

➣ “Hey, Tsukki, have you heard of OnlyFans?”

➣ You hold back a snicker as you see Tsukishima visibly tense, his eyes widening behind his glasses for a moment before he relaxes. From the corner of your eyes you can see Yamaguchi smirking behind his comic, watching the blond closely. 

➣ “...yeah, I’ve heard of it,” Tsukishima simply replies. 

➣ “I’ve been thinking about making more money but I don’t have time for a part-time job so my friend suggested it. She said I could make over ten thousand yen a month.”

➣ “I think only the really attractive ones make that much.”

➣ You gasp, thoroughly offended, and Yamaguchi looks mildly annoyed by his friend’s response, already opening his mouth to chastise him for being so mean—but before he can say anything, Tsukishima is speaking again, still looking down at the book in his lap. 

➣ “Don’t do it though.” 

➣ “Why not?” You pout, refusing to look up at him when you speak. 

➣ “...I don’t want the person I like to do those types of things.” 

➣ You nearly choke on your own saliva, head darting up to stare at him in disbelief. Yamaguchi, for some reason, only smiles softly, looking unsurprised by the admission. 

➣ “W-what? You...like me?”

➣ “Oi, shouldn’t you be studying? One more F and you’re gonna flunk out of the class, dummy.”

➣ You’re slightly disappointed by the change of subject but when you notice the soft pink on Tsukishima’s cheeks you can’t help but to smile the whole time you finish your homework.

AOBA JOUSAI

↳ Oikawa

➣ Oikawa is a busy guy.

➣ You were well aware of that before the two of you happened to be paired up for an assignment and got to know each other, eventually becoming close friends. 

➣ Between volleyball practices, tournaments, magazine interviews, and appeasing a passionate fan club, Oikawa rarely has time for himself, let alone another person. 

➣ Despite all of that, you could tell he always made sure to spend time with you, dedicating a few weekends a month to hanging out, just the two of you, and constantly texting you in the times the two of you couldn’t physically be together. 

➣ From an outsider’s perspective, it was almost like the two of you were dating. 

➣ But alas, you know the sad reality is that Oikawa is most certainly not your boyfriend and you have no idea if he has any interest in your like that…

➣ ...Which is why you decide to try to make him jealous one day to push him towards confessing his feelings, if they exist. 

➣ The two of you are at a café, sipping lattes and gossiping about other students when you bring it up. 

➣ “Y’know...I’ve been thinking of making an OnlyFans.”

➣ To your surprise, Oikawa’s eyes seem to light up, his lips curving into a smile of excitement. 

➣ “Wow, really? Maybe I should make one too!”

➣ Oikawa immediately pulls out his cell phone and the color drains from your face as you realize your plan has completely backfired. 

➣ “My fans are going to love this—hey do you think we can do a collab? The two of us in one pic would make us top creators for sure.”

➣ You can only nod numbly with a fake smile at Oikawa’s enthusiasm.

➣ Oh god, you’ve created a monster…

NEKOMA

↳ Kozume

➣ Unless you’re Kuroo, becoming friends with Kenma is a nearly impossible feat. Actually making him want to spend time with you alone, even more so. 

➣ But somehow, you managed to work your way into Kenma’s tightly knit social circle more like a two point line segment of him and Kuroo and your evenings after his volleyball practice are usually spent in one of your bedrooms, playing Splatoon and Animal Crossing until your Switches die or your parents force you to come home for dinner—whichever comes first. 

➣ You love spending time with Kenma, his quiet presence somehow making you feel comfortable—but over time those feelings of ease have shifted into something more akin to nervousness and excitement as you’ve come to develop a crush on the setter.

➣ Every moment with him, watching the small smiles tug at his lips when he wins a match or his cute, frustrated pout when he can’t figure out how to defeat a boss makes your heart flutter and it’s becoming more and more painful to idly sit by without expressing your feelings.

➣ A direct confession, especially to a boy with nearly 0 social skills, is scary, so you want to be sure your feelings are returned before you even attempt to share them. 

➣ Thus, you’ve decided to take Kuroo’s advice.

➣ “Push him into a corner. Kenma will only act when he thinks he has to.” 

➣ You take a deep breath to steel your nerves before you speak, eying him sneakily from behind your Switch. 

➣ “Gamer girls and boys are kind of trendy these days; I’m thinking about starting an OnlyFans to make money to buy more games.”

➣ The only visible response you receive is a slow blink as Kenma continues to play his game, fingers tapping furiously on the keys. 

➣ “Ah...I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

➣ “Why not?”

➣ There are a few moments of silence between you two, the room only filled with the SFX of your games as Kenma seems to finish his round. You recognize the victory music as Kenma pauses to finally raise his gaze to meet your own. 

➣ “It's your body so I can’t tell you what to do but...I would feel really jealous of all your subscribers.”

➣ And just like that, Kenma returns his attention to the video game, unpausing and starting a new match, blissfully unaware of you struggling to calm your racing heart and flushed cheeks. 

[orpheustiel]

Dean and Castiel are Orpheus and Eurydice - a post

*It's not a perfect comparison. There are things each of these characters go through that they don't share with anyone.

**Also, its not a Orpheus is Castiel and Dean is Eurydice post - Cas shares things with both Orpheus and Eurydice, as does Dean.

***This is about Hadestown, but can be read if you know the original Greek Myth.

The stories (Supernatural and Hadestown) they come from are about gods and men.

Orpheus was a boy "touched by the gods themselves", very similarly to Dean, who is the protagonist of God's (Chuck's) story and Michael's Sword.

Eurydice was a "hungry young girl, a runaway from everywhere she'd ever been. She was no stranger to the world, no stranger to the wind." Likewise, Cas and Dean never fit the place they were supposed to. Cas is a rebel, he always tries to go against the narrative, which made so he couldn't fully be anything (not a human, but not completely an angel, working with the Winchester and hiding things from them). Dean is the same - too soft for a hunter, too rough for domestic life. He didn't have a home for most of his life, and, like Eurydice, was no stranger to the world, no stranger to the wind.

Before meeting Orpheus, Eurydice was alone, and said "people turn on you just like the wind, everybody is a fair weather friend. In the end, you're better off alone." If this isn’t StandfordEra!Dean, I don't know what it is.

The experience of being alone and hungry (and I mean real hunger, having nothing to eat or money to buy it) is something Eurydice, Cas and Dean share.

Eurydice is also hungry for touch. For interaction. For affection. For connecting with people. For being taken care of. For having someone to share a life with. Dean and Cas go through something very similar, wanting to get closer to each other and to others but hiding it inside to not be vulnerable or believing they can't have it.

Orpheus' mother was a muse who abandoned him, and Castiel's father is a god who abandoned the world (and him).

Orpheus was naive, impulsive, driven by what he believed to be right, even if that meant making a few sacrifices - he saw beauty in the world and had a different "way of seeing things". Cas shows all of those behaviors, not understanding how humans work exactly, but being infected by their thoughts and feelings in such a way that he was described to be "in love with humanity", rebelling and becoming able to make choices for himself.

When Orpheus first approaches Eurydice, he is blunt, behaves in an unexpected way and turns her world around by showing her his singing can create life (a flower). When Cas first meets Dean (in a vessel), he gets too close to Dean physically and emotionally and turns his world upside down by telling him he is worth saving and has a purpose for Heaven.

You can see Dean and Cas meeting to the sound of "Come Home With Me" (from the scene Orpheus and Eurydice meet), by destielsevermore, here.

Castiel tells Dean that if he follows Heaven's plan, they'll save the world. Orpheus told Eurydice that spring will come again when he sings the songs he's writing - and thus, saving the world from the freezing winter.

Orpheus and Eurydice parallel the love story between Hades and Persephone. In SPN, Dean and Cas cas be paralleled to other couples on the story - like Cain and Collete, Ishim and Lily, Sam and Ruby, Sam and Eileen and even John and Mary.

Even though Dean was never truly alone, because he always had to take care of Sam (and his parents), he surely can emphatise with Eurydice in the romantic love side of things, when she says "I was alone so long, I didn't even know that I was lonely. Out in the cold so long, I didn’t even know that I was cold. Turned my collar to the wind, this is how it's always been" - but, when they meet Cas and Orpheus, they have someone who fills that part for them.

Likewise, Orpheus said "I don't know how or why or who am I that I should get to hold you. But when I saw you all alone against the sky, it's like I’d known you all along. I knew you before we met and I don’t even know you yet. All I know is you're someone I have always known." which is pretty much how Cas feels about Dean.

Orpheus and Eurydice promised to stay with each other forever - Dean and Cas didn't, but always expected the other to be around.

While Orpheus worked on his song to bring back spring, he didn't notice anything around him, focused on the mission, he loses the chance to save Eurydice. Cas says he "would never look beyond the plan. And then, of course, when it all came crashing down, [he] found [himself] lost."

Hell in Hadestown is a place of relentless repetition and meaningless work. Eurydice worked for Hell and Orpheus made a deal with it. In the end of Supernatural, Dean comes to the realisation that his work has been meaningless, because he's been merely a pawn on Chuck's story, which made him fight the same kind of adversaries again and again, never getting out.

Hadestown/Hell can also be paralleled with SPN's Heaven, as it's workers are intrusted to blindly follow orders and never look up.

Hungrier than ever, Eurydice found herself loosing faith in Orpheus and giving in. Similarly, Dean and Cas find themselves in need to get away from each other a few times during the story, giving in to anger and fear.

Finding herself choiceless, Eurydice made a deal with Hades. Cas makes a deal with Crowley in season 6, betraying Dean, because he thought it was the only choice he had to get to his objective.

Making a deal that kills you and not telling your loved one? Sounds like Cas and Eurydice.

Orpheus goes to hell to save Eurydice. Castiel saves Dean from hell.

Let me know if I should complete the list with moments from Hadestown's second act and feel free to add more!

[lovebykai]

Savage Love

》 Hot Mess - Part 1

Word Count: 1.7K

Pairing(s): Alpha!Sanzu x Beta!Reader, Omega!Mikey x Beta!Reader, & Alpha!Kakucho x Beta!Reader

Warning(s): Violence. Light Angst. Self-Esteem Issues. Drugs.

Authors Note: Enjoy this because it's gonna be whole ass shitshow and I'm already in love with this pack of idiots. Please note these will probably be much shorter than Pretty Girl chapters. It just flows better that way.

Just a beta.

The words had been slapped on you years ago when your dynamic had presented itself. Not a leader. Not a treasure. Just a beta. Canonfodder.

Thus, you'd been handed something to prove; you were positive your parents regretted that shit.

"Wait-- waitwaitwait, I can--" You rolled your eyes, pulling the trigger. The guys screams were shrill enough it made your ears ring, but honestly you thought it was a bit dramatic.

"Please! Please, Y/N, I swear I'll get you the money!" A long drag of the joint in your free hand granted you the patience necessary to deal with people like this.

Unfortunately, it also made you soft. Letting out a sigh, you eyed him once more.

Tied up to the chair and roughed up from your guys dragging him there, he didn't look like much, but he had started that fancy little fight club of his recently. Maybe he’d be able to pay back the loan you'd given him if you left him to it. He certainly looked scared enough, and that'd been the goal, right?

"Don't make me hunt you down again." You warned, clicking the safety on before tucking the weapon into the back of your jeans.

"Of course!" He sputtered and you waved over your shoulder. Someone else would set him loose, and you had better shit to do than hang around in some dingy warehouse. Like come up with a plan for how you were planning to handle the fact Bonten was finally setting its sights on your little slice of heaven.

It wasn't even like you ran a whole gang or anything.

Well, no, you supposed that wasn't technically true now that you'd adopted a fight club, three bars, a racetrack, and some convenience stores. Holy shit you were a gang leader. Fun.

Personally you'd never really thought about it. It was just something that was -- because you'd clawed tooth and nail for every fucking piece of it -- and you weren't keen on handing it all over. The people you ran with were just employees you paid or owned via your acquisitions, but they were probably the closest you'd ever had to friends.

Friends shot each other, right?

You took another drag before ashing the joint against one of the nearby buildings and tucking its remains into your jacket pocket. Your motorcycle was tucked away a few blocks down for anonymities sake; it was for that reason alone that the universe had the opportunity to fuck you over.

The smell of roses hit your nose.

"Oh?" It took a second before your brain caught up with your body, and you stumbled backwards a few steps. Alpha.

Your alpha.

There was a weird vulnerability when you met a part of your pack. Every story you'd ever heard spoke of instant love, and you could see that. Your alpha was beautiful; his scent was intoxicating. Right away you wanted his approval. His affection. Your body was full of warm fuzzies and butterflies and you suddenly remembered what it felt like not to be so jaded.

Your alpha.

Blue eyes shined down at you, their owners head cocked to one side curiously. The two of you stared for what had to be an uncomfortably long moment before, to your shock, he scoffed.

"Just a beta."

If anyone had asked you what possessed you in that split second, you weren't sure what you'd have answered with. Rage? Anguish? Your mother's spirit trying to drag you to Hell with her-- actually, yeah, it must have been that last one because when you aimed your gun at the guys leg and took the shot, you swore you heard her smug ass voice cackling at you.

"You're just a beta, Y/N. Nobody needs a beta; most packs don't even want them."

"You bitch!" To his credit, he did not squeal like a pig, and you resisted the urge to put another bullet in him despite aiming the weapon at his forehead when he went down.

"Congratulations, alpha," You grinned at the anger coming off him. "A beta just put you on your knees. Ain't that some shit? Guess you're just another little bitch with too much bark."

"I'll fucking kill you." The dark promise just made you laugh as you started backing away. You were reckless, not stupid; turning your back on this guy screamed of bad ideas. Luckily for you, he was occupied trying not to bleed out on the pavement, so when you managed a safe distance you tucked your gun away away carried on your merry way.

Just a beta.

Fuck that noise.

* * *

After what was probably the most devastating moment of your life, you grabbed yourself some comfort food and plopped your happy ass down in a nearby park to watch the sunset. You'd been rejected. Just like your parents always warned you would happen. It gave the whole thing a little extra oomph to know they'd been right.

Stupid. It was stupid to let yourself get worked up behind it.

After all, it wasn't as if you spent most of your life tearing down entire empires in the hopes when you met your pack you'd have something to offer. Or like you'd been trying to prove yourself worthy of love. Or anything dramatic and pathetic like that. That would be for people who had romantic notions about their packbond being some kind of family, not people like--

Ah, fuck.

You rolled your eyes, wiping them with your jacket sleeve and scoffing a bit. Gross. Crying. If someone spotted you it would destroy your reputation. Ick.

But you couldn't stop; to your chagrin, it quickly devolved into sobs that were way too loud. Whatever, you could just shoot anyone who commented. That was reasonable, right?

"... fuck." A soft sigh had you tensing and turning to glare at the newcomer from behind a veil of tears. A quick sniff through your snotty nose had you barking out a bitter laugh.

"Today's just full of surprises, huh, treasure?" You eyed the blond omega -- your omega -- and noted he looked about as tired as you felt.

"You shot one of our alphas." The deadpan would have been alarming if you weren't already mid-breakdown. Instead all you managed was a slightly hysterical laugh.

"Ah, so you've got two of them. That must be awesome." Because packs came in fours, and there was at least one of each dynamic. It couldn't have been another beta, though, that would have meant the world wasn't trying to fuck you over completely.

"... you're not going to take this seriously, are you?" Instead of answering, you just shrugged, watching as his dark eyes weighed out his next move. He was pretty. Most omegas were conventionally attractive, something about the way they evolved to lure in alphas to protect them, but he was pretty even by omega standards.

"Want some?" You offered up one of the fish shaped snacks and his lips pursed with thought.

"I don't want to hurt you." He admitted, sitting just out of reach after taking your peace offering with another long sigh.

"Color me impressed. I imagine your alphas do."

"Our."

"Huh?"

"You keep saying 'your alphas'. They're our alphas-- not just mine." The entire exchange took seconds, and yet it had you bursting into tears again.

It was the way he said it, you thought. The nonchalance he had about it. As though there should never have been a question to begin with. Rubbing at your face, you tried desperately to gather yourself, grateful that he hadn't commented on your emotional outburst.

"I'm Y/N." You offered on a breath that was caught between a laugh and a sob.

"Mikey." Nodding, you returned to your snack without another word, content to share the moment. When he got up a while later and left just as silently as he arrived, you didn't comment.

* * *

The third man was not your alpha.

Not that he wasn't beautiful and enticing all on his own -- especially with the addition of your own alpha and omegas scents all over him -- but he wasn't destined for you. Not like the other two and the magical third that was still out there somewhere. It made you curious as to why the other two were acting like he was pack.

"You're kidding." It was your turn to deadpan as the four of you -- plus some security you'd decided you probably needed for this meeting -- settled down around the lounge.

"Hey." Mikey matched your tone unwaveringly and you couldn't help but bark out a laugh.

"You three run Bonten?" That actually got you a smirk from your exhausted looking omega, who proceeded to lounge back on the sofa with a shrug. It was a nice change, you'd admit. Typically it was alphas who run shit, so seeing an omega in charge -- with alphas following him, to boot -- made you smile.

"Can we focus on business?" The new alpha asked softly, eyeing you with probably as much distrust as you were eyeing him. Part of you was feeling resentful towards him, even though he had been perfectly polite the entire time.

"Mm, no need for all the seriousness." You waved a hand with a huff. "I'm not interested in--"

A gun was pointed at you before you finished, earning the pinkette a glare as you continued pointedly.

"--keeping all of this. It's gotten too big." He didn't lower the weapon despite your narrowed eyes, and the fact nobody had made him yet was reigniting the anxiety Mikey had unknowingly put to rest just days before.

A beta was replaceable.

"Seriously, Sanzu?" The new alpha grabbed the barrel of the weapon and shoved it down.

"Mikey already told you we weren't killing her." Warmth wrapped around you at the statement, and you let yourself relax back into the couch.

"What's your name?" You asked, unable to resist the impulse. His gaze flickered to meet yours, a small tilt of his lips to only indication of his amusement.

"Kakucho."

"Nice to meet you." He nodded in acknowledgement, and you smiled.

Settling things with Bonten ended up being pretty simple--

It was settling things with your pack that was going to pose a challenge.

》 Part Two 》

[softyoongiionly]

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

There are opposing rumors as to what resides in the tower.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.  

The one who knows.  

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.  

And now, faced with the imminent demise of your family- you have no choice but to seek answers in the darkness. 

What, in god’s name, will you find?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: demi-god! au, demi-god! Jimin, mythology, slight angst, smut, fantasy

Word count: 8k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PWP)

Warnings: likely inaccurate representations of greek mythology lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up plz), mentions of violence/death, slightly spooky??? allusions to corruption and murder (non-explicit), JIMIN (cause he’s always a warning), probably a messy plot cause I went feral with this one. parts are unedited oops. 

A/N: i have nothing to say. this was supposed to be demon porn and now we have a completely new au. SOMEONE PLEASE STOP ME. okay anyways,,,, i love u. 

Corruption.  

It ran rampant through your town like the plague, devouring everything in its path. One right after another, you have seen it swallow those who you had come to respect; good town folk, who at one time, moved through the world with a moral compass stronger than the one you felt you possessed, had now fallen ill to the disease.  

And you understood...to an extent. The universe was not a benevolent dealer. It randomly assigns cards to its patrons and cares not about the outcome- or the losses. You understood that sometimes people were simply without a winning hand.  

But the need to win was still present.  

However, your town was spoiled with a type of greed that wafted through the streets and turned everything to mold. Neighbor betraying neighbor, partner betraying partner- even mother’s betraying their children...

All to please one man...

Lord Instinctus was the ruler of your province. Born into nobility, he took over the position after his father passed away and began turning the tides in his favor. Taxes were raised, work hours following suit and, harsh punishments were administered to anyone who dared questioned the new system. He forced your town to pledge their loyalty to him on the day he took over and sent ‘enforcers’ to hide out in the town in search of any signs of rebellion.  

However, his cruelty was not unique. Too many men have followed the path paved before them and suckled at the teet of avarice, until they were compelled to out do one another.

To outkill one another...

What made Lord Instinctus unique was the fact that he had never shown his face before. During his initiation into the noble court, the townspeople were given blindfolds and told to face away from their Lord and simply listen. Few people broke the rules but, the ones who did were immediately executed.  

You still remember the shudder that ran through your body as you heard the sound of your townspeople hitting the pavement. From that point on, the tone was set. Insubordination means death; the terms were simple.  

The lack of knowledge and the possibility of death didn’t stop speculation from blooming. In fact, the appearance of the Lord was essentially the usual topic of conversation at every pub on the main street. After the freeing of spirits, both liquid or otherwise, the rumors begin pouring into the atmosphere.

“He’s probably horribly deformed...”

“Inbreeding is common amongst the nobility; it would make sense...”

“My cousin walked by the villa the other day, he said Lord Invictus had a tail!”

“A tail you say?! So is he some sort of hybrid?!”

“Oh please, that’s preposterous- he's probably just hideous...”

You bite your bottom lip, as you wipe the whiskey from the chestnut countertop, resisting the urge to smirk. Bartending was certainly not a glamorous job but, it paid your taxes and helped put food on the table for you and your family.  

Glamorous it was not but, amusing it definitely was.  

“I bet you he still beds a new woman every night though...”

“A pretty face ain’t worth more than all that gold he has aye?”

“Maybe he’s cursed...”

“That wouldn’t surprise me either- I hear noble families make deals with the magic folk all the time.”

“If you all want to know so bad, why don’t you just pay the tower a visit?”

With that meager suggestion, the bustle of the pub comes to halt- all eyes now on the man who mentioned a topic that is normally banned from public spaces.

“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered what was up there...”

“We know what’s up there-”

“Or rather- who's up there.”

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

It’s said to be the home a monster.  

The tower was used as a prison for the most dastardly of criminals. For years, just before the establishment of your town, it served as a last resort for the rotten underbelly of society. Countless lives were taken, madness ensued- until the revolution came. The tower was set aflame by revolutionaries but for whatever reason, it did not crumble.  

The ivory merely sizzled and turned gray and then over time, it turned black. For years it was abandoned until one day, just after sunset, light emanated from the tower once more. Onlookers who were near the building went inside to see if some vagrant had moved in.  

And they never returned...

Several spiritual advisors have visited the town, including religious figures from various faiths, and they have all arrived at the same conclusion: a demon has taken residence in the tower. Despite the efforts to bless the building, the light comes on every evening.  

Thus, it is assumed that the demon remains unharmed.  

“What about Mrs. Jeon? She left offerings for the beast and her son was cured of the plague the next morning.”

“Or Mr. Kim- he left one as well and found gold in his backyard that very night...”

“You aren’t suggesting there is a benevolent being in that tower, are you? Should I remind you of how many disappearances have occurred?”

There are opposing rumors you suppose.  

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.  

The one who knows.  

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.  

“Hey here’s a thought- how about Jacob tests his theory eh? Why don’t you go down and find out yourself? Report back to us with your findings...”

The pub erupts with laughter now, the uneasiness slowly melting away from the room.  

You elect to keep your thoughts to yourself, as you finish up counting the money you had made from that evening- making sure to leave a portion for the incoming team.  

The bite of the winter wind is harsh and untamed as it scraps across your skin, causing you to hurriedly put your coat on. It feels like winter never ends in your town and if it weren’t for the fact that your family stocks up throughout the year, you would be worried where your next meal is coming from.  

Walking down the street towards your home, you catch sight of the tower in the distance. The way the windows begin to glow, almost makes you feel like it’s somehow staring back at you- taunting you.  

You would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.  

It always has.  

Even as a young girl, you remember being drawn to the infamy, to the danger...

Your mother always told you that being curious was a good thing, that it led the greatest minds of humankind. You kept that with you as you moved through life, trying your best to understand what your purpose was.  

But times were hard...

With a malevolent lord hanging over the morale of your town, digging his fingers into the heart and soul of your people and crippling them with eternal debt, it was causing you to look for answers.  

And you were beginning to look in some unorthodox places.

Dinner with your family soothes the aching curiosity in your chest as you try and remind yourself of all the things you have to be grateful for. After your meal, you wrestle your little brother into his bed before telling him his favorite bedtime story. Once his eyelids have kissed, you turn out his light and move into the main room to wish sweet dreams upon your parents.  

And although the pleasantries are nice, there are a few things throughout the evening that disturbed you.  

The limp in your father’s movement.

The blisters on your mother’s hands.

The bags beneath the otherwise unburden gaze of your little brother.  

Exhaustion was palpable.  

Living beneath the weight of a corrupt leadership will do that to you.

As your head hits the pillow, you can hear your mother murmur in desperation.

“I won’t have enough to pay him this week...what are we going to do?”

“I can work extra hours at the mill- we will figure it out.”

“How could you possibly work any longer-”

You feel your chest twist with guilt as you hear the crack in your mother's voice.

“You’re falling apart my love...if you continue pushing yourself this way, I’m afraid I will lose you and I can’t- I can’t-”

The muffled nature of her cries suggests that your father has pulled her in for a hug, trying to erase the inevitable with his affection.  

“We will endure, I promise. Just hang on a little longer.”

With your father’s final words, their conversation begins to die down.  

This can’t possibly go on much longer. You might be able to pick up more hours at the pub and, perhaps procure a second job but, the dues will never end.  

Your family will never exist for any other reason aside from paying to the noble family.  

So you make a decision. Hard work clearly isn’t the answer and revolution would only shed innocent blood. If the practical world had nothing else to offer then, you would seek answers from beyond.  

Your parents retired to their rooms shortly after their conversation but, you wait until you’re sure the house has fallen silent before you make your next move. Embarking on this mission would be simple but what lies at your destination is anything but; so, you try to be prepared for the possible outcomes.

Wrapping yourself in the thickest coat you can find, you slip your dagger beneath the onyx material and slowly creep out of your bedroom.  

The streets were still bustling with life; your town rarely ever rests and the pubs and shops are open well past midnight.  

It might sound like the product of a vibrant town but, it’s mainly due to the ever-present demand for profit.  

Limited hours mean limited sales.

Thankfully, no one really notices your presence as you traverse your way down the streets and through the alleyway. The noise echoing from the main street slowly diminishes and makes way for the sound of the wind dancing through the trees. The forest itself does not frighten you. You grew up memorizing it with your father as he taught you the fundamentals or foraging and gardening. The sound of the owls is expected as is the chill that runs up your spine with the increase of the breeze.  

However, as you near the tower- fear begins to slither its way into your veins. It’s quite a sickening feeling as it seems to stop you in your tracks but, you push on anyway- determined to finish what you have started.

The wrought iron surrounding the tower is stained with rust, corroded and crackling with age, the creaking of its bars alarms you, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to look up.  

And there it is: the tower.  

It stands above you like a menacing giant and although it’s presence should deter you, it doesn’t. Making an effort to be as silent as you can, you slip past the opening in the gate and begin walking up the broken cobblestone pathway.  

There is nothing but dirt surrounding the perimeter of the tower and other than the moon, the only light before you is coming from the very top window. It’s glowing but the color isn’t stable- it's as if it were shifting slowly from red to green to blue and then back again. Faced with the wooden French doors, you question the idea of knocking.  

If someone truly did live here, it would only be polite...right?

With a shaky hand, you knock three times as loudly as you can. For a moment there is nothing, but just as you ready your hand to knock again, the door groans and begins to slowly creak open.  

The already unstable heartbeat in your chest begins to rattle without mercy as you brace yourself for whatever horrible creature might lay on the other side. Instead, however, there is no one.  

The door opens entirely to reveal that instead of the simple but filthy interior you expect from an abandoned tower such as this one, there is a rather decadent home. Large marble pillars extend upwards seemingly holding nothing in place while glamorous furniture positions itself through the foray. Everything is cooled tone with greys and shades of blue, black often lining the borders of the funiture. There is no lantern, the moon lighting up the interior of the room just as it led your path up to the door.  

The layout doesn’t make sense.  

The tower is cylindrical and doesn’t offer enough space for such an open floor plan so, how is it that the inside looks like lavish mansion?

You swallow your fear and newfound confusion as you tentatively look around the expanse of the room.

“Hello?”

Nothing.  

You take a deep breath and decide that the likelihood of someone (or something) answering that call is slim, especially given the way you were welcomed into the tower in the first place.  

You place your hand inside your pocket, gripping the dagger for good measure before beginning to make your way towards the staircase. The moonlight is sufficient enough at first but for whatever reason, as you begin making your way up the stone staircase, the interior of the tower seems to slowly darken. Your grip on the dagger tightens as you stop walking, frozen in your steps, cursing yourself for embarking on a journey so reckless.  

Suddenly, all of the light from the room vanishes, forcing a gasp from your throat. You manage to grip the railing to steady yourself but you have no idea what you are to do next.  

And then, someone speaks.

“Well- you’re awfully far from home...aren’t you?”

The sound of the voice rushes through your senses much like the wind did. It’s too sweet for your liking but, it entrances you none the less.

“Who are you?”  

As much as you try to steady your breathing, the way your voice cracks, gives you away instantly.

Laughter bounces off the stone walls, sinister and playful all at once before the voice speaks again,

“Don’t you think that’s a question I should be asking you? You are the intruder after all...”

Disembodied or not, the voice makes a valid point. You did walk in unannounced and you most certainly weren’t invited.  

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” The strength in your voice comes back slightly as you grip the railing a bit tighter, “I came here because- “

“I know why you’re here...” The voice is much closer now, likely positioned at the top of the stairs, “Humans are so predictable; always looking for a handout.”

This offends you greatly and regardless of the amount of danger you might be in, you let the voice know anyway.

“I am not looking for a hand out. My family and I work from sunrise until sunset to make ends meet. I’m here to make an offering- not merely to take whatever miracles that you make.” Stronger and stronger, your voice rises to the occasion, preparing itself to either spar with the beast or scream for help.

“Miracles hm?” Sinister laughter slinks down the staircase, practically teasing the exposed skin of your neck, “Is that what you think I do?”  

You swallow the bile that creeps up your throat, “I’ve heard many stories- but I wanted to see for myself. Some of my people claim you’ve blessed them but, the clergy said a demon lived here...”

“Oh?” It rises with inquisition, “And you came anyway? Do I have a heretic in my presence?”  

Shaking your head does nothing in the darkness but it’s instinctual, “I don’t believe in demons- at least, not the kind who dwell in abandoned towers.”

“Is there a kind you do believe in then?”  

There is something in you that urges you forward, captivated by the sweet sound of the voice above you, desperate to view the owner and desperate to see the moonlight again.

“Hell is nothing but a metaphor and it’s demons all the same. There is plenty of evil here, plenty of suffering- by definition, there is a demon ruling over my town- he is draining us of our resources for his own gain. I couldn’t imagine a more accurate representation.”

Suddenly, you hear the sound of boots clicking slowly and steadily down the stone stairs. You brace yourself, still feeling frozen in your place- wishing to see whoever or whatever is front of you.

“If I did make miracles,” It muses and, now you’re able to discern that it’s only a few steps in front of you, “What exactly would you be offering me in return?”

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you place all your effort into trying to make out whether or not there was an actual owner to this voice. Finally, your eyes adjust enough to see the faint shadow of a figure which appears to be sitting on the second set of stairs.  

“Name your terms, I will do my best.”  

“Ah ah-” The voice corrects along with a side of twinkling laughter, “That isn’t how this works...”

You’re growing frustrated with the apparent mind games but, you know it’s in your best interest to be patient; you still don’t know what you’re dealing with.

“How does it work then?”

Silence passes through the air for a moment before the voice speaks again, “You must bring me the thing you treasure the most so, that I may know your true intentions- I cannot help you until I can see you properly.”

You snort, “You’d be able to see me if you hadn’t wiped the light from this room...”

Laughter comes again but this time, it’s lower and deepened with suggestion, “I’m not referring to physical sight, human. You might not be able to see in the dark but, I can.”

For whatever reason, its response sounds salacious and riddled with an innuendo that you’re slightly afraid to comment on.  

And the reaction it creates within you, only frightens you further.  

“I’ve just told you that I barely have enough money to scrape by- I don’t have anything of value to give you.”  

“I never asked you to bring me anything of value nor did I ask you to give it away- you’re not listening very well...I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you if you can’t follow instructions.”

It sounds irritated and fond all at once, prompting you to nod immediately, not wanting to upset your only shot at freedom.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe, “I’m just-”

“Don’t lie to me...”

Your gaze strains to try and make out the expression of the figure in front of you but, its futile- the darkness impeding your effort.

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to tell me that you’re scared.” The voice accuses, “But you’re not- even though, you most certainly should be.”  

It wasn’t wrong. You should have ran when the door opened on its own, when the lights began to dim, when a voice began speaking to you...

But you didn’t.

You were undeniably intrigued.  

“Are you going to hurt me?”

An insidious bought of laughter comes from the figure before it sighs, “Hmmm, maybe a little bit.”

When your lips part with something that resembles shock, the laughter comes again only slowing to a halt for the sound of the figure’s tongue tutting against its teeth.

“You are a curious girl...” It observes, “...promises of harm should not excite you and yet- excitement flows from you anyway. Why?”

It kills you to refrain from denying it but, you have no choice.

“Your voice-” A sigh leaves your lips, “it’s very intriguing.”

Maybe it’s part of the creature's abilities, you think, its voice is the main weapon to lure unsuspecting and vulnerable humans into its clutches. The only question is-  what happens once it has you.

“Is it now?” The voice sounds intrigued, “Most humans don’t seem to think so. Are you sure you’re hearing me right, girl? I’ve been told my voice is the thing of nightmares.”

This perplexes you; how could anyone possibly think such a voice was frightening? Despite this creature being anything but human, it sounds very much like a man- a warm and mischievous man who seems hellbent on getting you into bed.  

“What does my voice sound like to you?” It asks, a smile in its tone.

You ponder this question for a second, realizing very quickly that you can’t exactly tell this creature that it sounds like it’s trying to seduce you. But still, that does seem to be the only appropriate description.

“Sort of...like a melody.”

Laughter comes again but, this time it’s paired with the moonlight slowly fading back into the tower, covering every surface until it finally reveals the appearance of the figure.  

Beautiful.  

Not an it but a he...

A man with wings.  

On the steps before you, he stands, leaning casually against the railing now. Atop his head is a tousled mop of sapphire hair, just below are his eyes- nearly black and hooded with the same seduction as his voice and cloaking his figure is a black linen ensemble fitted only by the same color corset. His pillowy lips and soft skin would be a masterpiece on their own but coupled with the giant pair of onyx wings protruding proudly from his back- his visuals become simply devastating.  

“What do you see?” He smirks, licking over his lips.

Unable to resist, you shake your head in complete awe, all of the sensible words dying before they leave your throat, “You- are you an angel?”

The light allows you to see him now as his head tilts another round of laughter, “Try again...you’re very close.”

Perhaps the clergy was right...

“A demon then...” You resign because despite your previously-held beliefs, if this really was a demon, then you know very well you shouldn’t be dealing with him. “I should go.”

His smirk broadens, “But I thought you didn’t believe in demons?”

“I didn’t but, that’s clearly what you’re alluding to. If a winged man tells me he’s a demon, I think it’s wise that I return home.”  

Through your moment of clarity, your desire for him persists- especially now that you see what he looks like. But you know better than to make a deal with a demon, even if you are desperate.

“Do you think the universe is that simple? Angels and demons? Good and evil? You don’t think that maybe- in all of his vastness, there is a chance for the inbetweeners?” He presses and now his black eyes seem to glow, his gaze slightly hypnotic.  

Tightening your coat around your body, you stay staring at him for a moment before you respond, “Is that what you are? Something in between?”

He licks his lips, his eyes finally allowing themselves to wander over your figure. There isn’t much of you showing but, he still drinks you up regardless, exposing and exciting you all at once.  

“I was sent by the underworld to do business for the gods...” He drops his voice to a near whisper, his gaze burning a hole in you, which now aches to be filled.  

You take in a shaky breath through your nose, nodding in understanding, “Did you kill the people who disappeared here? Is that what happens when their judgment goes south?”  

He arches his brow, tilting his head with his inquiry- his voice dripping with darkness, “Maybe I did...maybe I didn’t. I don’t see how that’s relevant- especially since you’ve already decided you were leaving. Which of course-” He waves his hand then, the wooden door behind you creaking open, “-you are free to do.”

There is something about him you haven’t touched on but, it’s beginning to eat you up inside. He may be an otherworldly being, possessing the tower like a beautiful virus but, he is starting to look familiar. This of course, is hard to imagine because his beauty is so striking that you don’t see how you could ever forget it. But nonetheless, you feel like you’ve seen him before.  

And this is what has kept you frozen.  

“Will you not give me any answers?” You border on pleading but, attempt to keep your tone firm.

He chuckles, “You didn’t come to me for answers. You came for help- which I’ve already agreed to give you.”

The supernatural discourse that has transpired, thoroughly distracted you from the reasons for seeking him out in the first place. Your situation had not changed; you were still desperate for money, desperate for justice and desperate for peace.  

“You won’t hurt my family...” It’s not a question, and it leaves no room for any other response aside from the one he gives you.

“I won’t.”  

Nodding, you glance behind your shoulder towards the door, “I have to go home. I don’t have the item you asked for. I can be back within the hour...”

For the first time, he looks slightly disappointed but as you complete your sentence, he shakes his head, “No. Don't come back tonight.” He insists, “If you wish to do business with me- you must return tomorrow after midnight. I will wait for you at the shoreline.”

This confuses you, “The shoreline? Why can’t we meet here? The water is dangerous after dark.”

The smirk returns to his tender lips, “I know.”  

With that, he waves his hand again- causing the door to swing open and slam against the tower walls.

Jumping at the sound, your gaze shoots back behind you before returning to where the creature stood.  

But he had vanished.  

You have no choice but to heed his requests and rush away from the tower, the curiosity inside you almost too much to bear.  

Nothing is out of the ordinary as you walk back home, at least not at first. But when you pass the massive clock tower in the center of town, you realize something strange...

The clock hadn’t moved, not even a second.  

You remember very clearly reading the time as you hurried past it on your way to the tower and now, even as you’re staring at it, it stands perfectly still. Until suddenly, without warning, the hands of time begin to move again. The clicking almost startles you, your brain filling with a million questions despite your decision to turn away and return home.  

Time had seemingly stood still whilst you were in the tower.  

Slipping beneath the covers, you try your hardest to get to sleep despite being bombarded with images of the haunting man you had just encountered.  

You know you should be terrified.  

You know you should be wary.

But the familiarity of him has possessed you and, you’re determined to understand why.  

The next night, with your treasured object tucked securely in your coat, you make your way back to him.  

You make sure to check the clock tower before you do, logging the time away for later to see if last night had been more than just a fluke.  

12:32am.

The clock tower has never lied but, you’re starting to think it might be influenced by whatever resided in the tower- magic, beast, or otherwise.  

As you pass through the many trees, you begin to hear the chaotic crashing of the waves in the distance. The tower may be frightening but, few things could match the malevolent temper of the sea. In fact, you’ve always believed that nothing could. The sea was unrivaled in her cruelty, consuming the world at will, just for the fun of it- you've theorized that she likes the screams. During the day, she simmered- blue and serene, allowing boats to decorate her surface like candles on a birthday cake. At night though, her temper worsens and it’s as if she suddenly remembers all the injustice she has faced. Her waves swell to horrific heights, smashing into the seawalls built around your town, creeping over like a titan looking for vengeance.  

You’ve always felt pity for her. It must be hard: being the heart and soul of humanity, being responsible for the very nature of things- only to be forgotten. Only to be mistreated...

Your boots are discarded near the last patch of grass before the sand and, your toes brace themselves icy chill of the sea breeze. You’re especially thankful for the coat now as you suspect that your teeth would have already begun chattering had it not been for the thick fabric protecting you.  

The waves haven’t begun their violent dance just yet but, you can sense their temper beneath your feet. They will begin soon.  

“The sea-” The voice from the tower is behind you, “it suits you.”

Breathless, you turn to face him and even though you’re more prepared for his beauty than you were last night, it still shocks you.

He’s wearing a black silk gown, that drapes effortlessly off his body, the sleeves made out of French lace and extending well past his fingertips. His wings are shuttered behind him, folded almost modestly against his back.

“Thank you.” It’s the only response you have before you reach into the fold of your coat, “I have the-”

He holds up his hand, his voice commanding but gentle, “Wait. I want you to walk with me first. I don’t like rushing through my business deals.”

Your hand slowly retreats from your coat as you warily look behind you, “You want to walk along the shoreline? I told you, it’s too dangerous- at least for me it is, I don’t exactly have an escape mechanism attached to my back.”

He smirks, his tempting gaze flourishing with fondness you cannot place, “What causes you to mistrust the sea so much? Surely she wouldn’t hurt one of her own...”

Your brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

Extending from the confines of silk, his fingers reach out to you, fluttering with invitation, “I will show you.”

And really, you’d be a fool not to accept.  

Interlacing your fingers with his, you feel electricity simmer ever so slightly beneath your skin. You’re assuming it’s from the power that likely resides within him but, you don’t expect it to affect you so much.

The sound of the waves begins to softly roar in the distance but the water isn’t close enough to the shoreline to pose any immediate threat.

Not yet at least...

You begin walking alongside him as he leads you both in the opposite direction of your town border. For quite a few moments, he just gazes at the eternal stretch of sand before you, his soft mouth curved up ever so slightly. He looks pensive and serene all at once and, it confuses you.

“May I tell you a story?”

His request surprises you but, you aren’t really in a position to say no. And if you’re being honest, you really didn’t want to.  

“Yes.” You murmur, feeling compelled to keep your volume at a minimum.

He smiles softly to himself, glancing towards the water briefly before beginning.  

“The water has many gods...” He speaks softly, letting out a sigh, “Lir, Irish god of the sea, Tefnut, Egyptian goddess of the rain, Amimitl, Aztec god of lakes and fisherman...” His explanation already has you interested. You were taught much of the stories beyond your land but, it had always fascinated you, “The gods of the sea are known for the temperate nature, they often stay away from humans and avoid interfering with the mortal coil. Death by water is merely a request they carry out for the gods of death and destruction and thus, there is goddess who rules over the violence of the sea itself.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the temper of the sea seems to roar to life, the swollen waves crashing aggressively, still not close enough to reach you.

Not yet at least...

“Cymopoleia, is the goddess of violent sea storms. Poseidon, her father, tasked her with overseeing the malignant waters and tending to the causalities. She was not the creator of the storms but she carried the ability.” He moves through the story as if he has told it a 100 times but he seems captivated by it nonetheless, “When it came time for her to bear a child. She conjured up a spirit from within her very core. She crafted them out of the essence of the sea and placed them inside of clamshell in her palace. She was awaiting the full moon when someone snuck into the depths of the ocean and stole them from her.”

The gasp that leaves your lips cannot be helped, you didn’t realize how engrossed you were until suddenly you recognize the port from another town nearby.

You had been walking awhile.

“Why would someone do that?” You press, shaking your head.

He sends a solemn look your way, “Many thoughtless humans believe that if they capture the essence of a god, they will become one themselves. Foolishly, he opened the clam shell and released the spirit into the world. By the time the goddess found him, it was too late- but she delegated his fate anyway. She took his life beneath the depths of a violent storm and placed a curse upon anyone who shared his bloodline. She made it so that any one of his descendants would bear the physical embodiment of his fate.”

“So, they look like they’ve died at sea?”

He can’t help but smirk, a bit of the darkness you saw at the tower, beginning to creep back. “Indeed. They are horribly disfigured and regardless of their efforts, they all meet the same fate. His lineage believes that if they send enough offerings out to sea or if they build high enough walls, that they will somehow escape their deaths. But of course, this if futile- the goddess vowed that she would continue to collect them until her spirit was returned.”  

His story ends and it’s like something clicks within you. Without warning, you squeeze his hand, slowing both of you to a stop, just before the light of the upcoming pier hits you.  

“Does this have something to do with my town? Is that why you��re telling me this?”  

Lord Invictus certainly fit the description for a descendent of this thief and, although it bores no sense of logic- you have no choice but to believe it anyway.  

It all fits together too well...

He turns towards you now, his smirk now a small smile, “It has to do with you Y/N.”

Your brow furrows, “Me? What do you mean?”

He nods to your coat, something otherworldly lingering in his eyes, “I’d like to see what you’ve brought with you now.”

Still riddled with confusion, you reach inside your coat and find that the item you had brought with you (a beaded necklace gifted to you at birth by your parents) had turned into something else.  

And now, sitting in the palm of your hand- was a clamshell.  

“What is this? This isn’t what I brought to you- I-” You begin to panic, confusion and fear starting to take over, “Did you do this? Did you take my necklace?”

Finally, the sinister smirk returns as his wings begin to unfurl from behind his back. Along with his shift in expression, another danger is brewing very close to you- you can feel it.  

The sea is growing irritated and whipping the wind and the water up into a frenzy. As you look toward the water, you have no choice but to look on in horror as you see the beginning of something deadly.  

A rogue wave.

The grip on your hand tightens as his extraordinary strength keeps you in place.  

“I think it’s time I formally introduce myself-” His voice is loaded with bad intentions but it sounds sweet anyway as he burns his gaze into yours, “My name is Jimin. Son of Tartarus, the god of punishment and Nyx, the goddess of the night.”

Your eyes are wide with desperation, not fully registering what he said before he’s yanking you against his chest and turning you to face the sea. Standing behind you, he unleashes a spell of wicked laughter as his wings unfurl from behind is back to wrap around the both of you, so that the only thing you’re able to see is the wall of water coming for you.  

“I have to come to send you home Y/N...your mother has been waiting for you a very long time.”

His arms are wrapped around you now, crushing you against his chest as his wings begin flapping- the wind picking up furiously around you.

“Jimin!” You scream, eyes welling up with tears, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! You promised! Why are you doing this to me?!”

He laughs at you, and it isn’t necessarily malevolent but merely amused, as if he in on a joke you weren’t part of.

“Shhhh, quiet down my little sea nymph...” He whispers salaciously into your ear, “...your fate will be painless.”

You’re crying now, digging your nails into his skin, attempting to break free as the massive creature that is the ocean rushes towards you without mercy. The crest of the wave arches above you proudly, the swirling darkness of the water mocking the mere audacity of your existence but, as you brace for impact- it never comes.  

Only the darkness does...

And it’s the darkness that consumes you.  

“Jimin!” A voice breaks into your subconscious, luring you out of what you hope was a nightmare, “You couldn’t have brought her home without scaring her? She was practically driftwood when she arrived here.”

That familiar twinkle of laughter sounds then and, it forces your eyes open.  

“I’m sorry your grace- it's just in my nature.” He defends poorly, still chuckling to himself, “I can’t imagine my brothers are doing much better.”

You are somewhere extraordinary, that much is certain. Above your immediate line of sight is an ornate glass ceiling that seems to glow a cerulean blue. All around you are gold furnishings, each decorated with various moldings of sea creatures.  

“She’s awake!”  

Your vision, still slightly cloudy, now lands upon a being so beautiful- that you have to blink a few times to ensure you’re seeing the right thing. Draped in blue silk and decorated with gold and pearls, is a woman who looks at you with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Oh my- its really you...”

She seems tentative but, you’re suddenly overcome with joy- filled with an almost cosmic sense of peace.  

“Mother!” You cry, rushing off of the bed you were laying on and into her arms.  

She takes you in her arms immediately, her skin cool against yours like the tepid waters of the bay. She sniffles, tightening her grip on you,

“I knew you’d come home...I knew one day I would find you.”

And it really doesn’t make much sense does it?

How could your life swing so violently from one direction to the next?

Your life on earth seems so insignificant now...now that you’re back with her.  

Cymopoleia- queen of violent sea storms and, your mother.  

She explains it all to you, gently stroking your hair and fawning over you.  

The spirit in the depths was you. Born into a human body, you were fated to one day meet with the demi-god of darkness, who with a bit of trickery- would return you to your rightful place in the cosmos.  

Your mother assures you that your mortal family would be relieved of your memory until it was safe for you to visit them, until the gods of fate decide. In addition, Lord Invictus would be the last of the bloodline to pay for what his ancestor had done and, the fog of greed and corruption- which begin the day you were born, would soon be lifted.  

The explanation is long and doesn’t leave you completely fulfilled but, your mother assures you that you have all the time in the world to understand the complexity of the universe.  

Hours later, after you’ve had a decent feast, your mother instructs Jimin to escort you to your bedroom.  

As he leads you down the hallway towards your chambers, you send a playful glare his way, “So- how much of what you told me was a lie?”

He merely smirks, “None of it.”

You scoff, “Even the part of about your voice? And all that nonsense about excitement and me being curious? You knew all along what was to happen- you just tricked me.”

Jimin chuckles darkly, stopping just outside your bedroom door before turning to you, “The part about my voice frightening people wasn’t a lie, Y/N. My father is the god of punishment, any mortal that hears my voice usually cowers in fear...”

“Is that why I felt so drawn to you? Because you were meant to take me home?”  

His smirk broadens, “No...you feel drawn me because you want to fuck me.”

Your mouth goes completely dry at his bold statement but, you are unable to deny it- your fingers suddenly twitching at your side.

“Wh-”

“It’s not your fault really...” He murmurs, his body shifting towards you, “...it’s just the way I was made. I am used to people lusting after me- however,” Jimin reaches out then, to brush his thumb over the swell of your cheek, “-I have never known true lust until I had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“You lust for me?” You whisper, completely drawn up with desire- finally allowing your true nature, the nature of a demi-goddess pour out of your soul.

He licks his lips, his gaze upon you timid as he presses his thumb into your face, “I do.”  

You turn to the side suddenly, capturing his thumb between your lips, “Show me.”

It's all it takes: that one phrase of consent being enough to unleash all the urges within him.

You’re inside your chamber seconds later, Jimin clawing at the fabric of your robe, his fingers digging into your skin as he does, his lips latching on to every part of you he can reach.

“I knew the moment you walked into my tower-” He grunts, “I knew- there was no way a mortal could be tempting, so dreadfully seductive.”

You sigh hopelessly, raking your hands through the sapphire tendrils on his head, your lips ghosting along the swell of his cheek, the tail of his brow, the shell of his ear...

“In the underworld...” He’s practically growling now, scratching his nails up the newly exposed skin of your back, “We are never taught to refuse our desires. You were my greatest challenge- it took everything in me not to devour you right there.”

You smirk now, positioning your lips at his ear, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with you though- aren't you glad you were patient?”

He grunts again, pressing his hips against yours defiantly, “Patience is for virtuous gods- “ He doesn't answer your question but, you know that he means yes. In spite of his darker nature, Jimin still believes in doing the right thing.... most of the time.  

He has you on the bed moments later, his wings spreading proudly. He’s panting, his eyes completely black with lust as he nudges your legs open, determined to finally taste what he’s been craving.  

For the demi-god of darkness, denying his desires for even a second is painful. He aches to fufill them over and over again...

You were certainly no exception.  

But you want to keep teasing him...

Reaching down, you spread yourself open for him- feeling the visceral substance of your arousal sticking to your inner thighs.

“What are you waiting for then?” You lean up, grasping your hand behind his neck and staring directly into the abyss that is his gaze, “Defile me...”

Jimin growls, sliding into you instantly, his hands quickly bracing themselves on either side of your head. He smirks as your eyes roll back the sheer pleasure of him inside of you causing your nipples to harden.  

“Oh look at that-” He chuckles, his own expression unstable with pleasure, “Are you going brain dead already hm? Is this cock that good?”

Your eyes come back into play as you stare up at him, your hands gripping either side of his face as he starts a power rhythm within you.  

This wasn’t meant to last long, the carnal desire too much for either one of you to handle...

Perhaps, if your feelings permitted it- you'd make love another time.  

Nodding, you moan as he increases the rhythm, pressing your forehead against his own.  

“You feel so good.” You whisper, “I didn’t know it could- oh...” A whimper leaves your lips as he hits that spot inside of you, the pleasure completely ruining your ability to speak.

“Of course you didn’t- you’ve only ever let mortals play with your pretty cunt haven’t you?” He laughs, mocking you and cooing all at once, “And now that I’ve gotten ahold of it, you’re never going to want anyone else. I will ruin you ugh-” He finally breaks, his own brow furrowed with the onslaught of his release as you tighten around him, “-ugh fuck yes. I can feel how badly your cunt wants me- it's like you’re begging me to cum.”

“I want you to cum,” You whisper shakily, kissing at his mouth, “Fill me up please, I need it.”

He growls, kissing you back with just as much fervor, his hips moving so fast that the pleasure fucks with your vision.  

“I’m going to make a mess of you, they will smell me on you until I can come back-” He promises, smirking ever so slightly, “and then- I'll paint the inside of you all over again won’t I? Such a masterpiece this cunt will be...and you’ll be all mine, cumming only for me.”  

And he wasn’t wrong because, mere seconds later- the two of you are cumming all over one another, ruining the silk sheets with your release and clawing desperately at one another.  

With the mutual utterance of your names, Jimin collapses beside you and, moments later- when you get your wits about you, he is ushering you onto his chest.  

Sweaty, exhausted and satisfied, you lay together in silence for quite a while.

Until finally you speak, “I’m not quite sure what came over me.”

Jimin chuckles but this time, the sound is much warmer than you’re used to, “Immortal lust, it’s a blessing and a curse but, eternal life has to stay interesting somehow.”

You trace patterns on his chest whilst he covers your body with one of his wings, the feathers teasing at your sensitive skin.

“Did you mean it?”  

And he doesn’t even bother asking, he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“I want you.” He affirms, “If you’ll have me- I felt quite possessive of you then but, I won’t insist on anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

You smile, tracing a heart directly over the spot where his heart would beat, “It fits doesn’t it? You and I?”

If the past few days have taught you anything, it is that sometimes- it is appropriate to succumb to fate. Sometimes, believing in the simplicity of destiny works out. Being with Jimin felt right and, for now, this was enough.  

“It does.” His statement is simple but his expression says it all: he is elated.

You fall back into comfortable silence once again before one more pressing question leaves your lips, “Did I hear you mention something about your brothers earlier?”

Jimin nods, his eyes half-closed as he cuddles closer to you, “You did. I have six of them.”

“Are they- like you?” You murmur, unable to stop your curiosity.

He nods again, “They are.”

You think one more question will suffice but, his answer will unfortunately bring about a thousand more, “Are they all on missions too?”

Jimin’s trademark smirk shows itself once again as he snickers, “They are-” He repeats before a great sense of pride comes over his expression...

“I was just the first one to return.”

A/N: should this be a series? asking for a friend...

[compassionatereminders]

I saw that youre on disability, if i can ask, how difficult was it to get onto? My boyfriend has autism and has been struggling to find a job that will hire him for years. its taking a severe mental toll on him and his borderline abusive and neglectful parents arent helping... I make money but not enough to move us both out into an apartment to remove him from his shitty home life (his mother holds his documentation ransom so we'd need to reorder all of it including birth certificates, ssn card, etc etc). He was alright until he aged out of the program he was in before, and ever since his parents have been worse and worse...

We're american, so any advice you can give to help me get him out of there is welcomed and appreciated - 🍡

I am Danish and have no personal experience with the American system, but from what I've heard it's not easy to get approved for disability benefits anywhere, let alone in the US of all places. That's not to say that it isn't worth a try, but it's probably not an easy solution. Even in Denmark which has a much more extensive social security net, it's a long, tough process for most people which requires a lot of documentation and evaluations - not just of the fact that you have a disability, but of how much it affects you and to what degree it impairs your ability to work. I was exceptionally lucky to get approved as easily as I did, and that only happened due to the fact that I have been institutionalized since I was 17 and thus already had an incredible amount of paperwork and documentation to support my case. But normally the process requires five years of testing and evaluations and documentation before you even have a chance of getting approved. And I don't imagine it's any easier in the US...

[bigskydreaming]

I’m a big believer that Dick’s independence and self-reliance isn’t in any way rooted in him just being stubborn, prideful or self-destructive. I view it as being in his eyes a necessity….because on a deep, fundamental level….Dick doesn’t trust anything to be permanent. 

I’ll always go back to the fact that his character archetype isn’t that of the everyman, because he was of lower class origins compared to Bruce’s extreme upper class background.....but rather that given that Dick Grayson was allegedly exceptional from his debut, a child prodigy capable of feats of acrobatics few in the world could match....he could never actually be classified as an everyman. Rather, his core archetype is that of the fish out of water. The individual taken from the comforts of his original pond and thrust into a limelight of an entirely different nature from the one he grew up in, with the two not at all being interchangeable, and necessitating he change and adapt in dramatic and often unanticipated ways just to keep his footing in his new environs.

Its not incidental that his initial tragedy wasn’t JUST the loss of his parents, but rather the loss of his old routines, extended family, environment, way of life, expectations for the way his future would play out....it ALL vanished on the same night, never to return again. The loss of his parents was tragedy enough all on its own, but its really only one part of what Dick lost that night. He lost his entire footing. His frames of reference. Everything his life had previously prepared him for and everything he could have used as a familiar comfort or source of stability to lean on, if it had been ‘just’ his parents that he lost.

And I fundamentally don’t believe you ever get over THAT loss, no matter what peace you make with the loss of your loved ones or specific elements of that. Once you’ve experienced a shake-up of that size, once you have a bone-deep, visceral awareness of how completely your life can change in the blink of an eye, how you can effectively be set back to zero as though nothing you’ve previously accomplished matters (remember, he went from a kid whose name drew crowds on its OWN merits, based on what HE was capable of due to his own work and skills, the youngest of the Flying Graysons, capable of an acrobatic feat barely anyone else in the world could master......to being a kid who was only ever identified as in the context of Bruce Wayne having taken him in, as though his existence and worth were defined by someone else’s act of compassion rather than based on anything he’d ever done on his own, when the fact of the matter is even by age eight, he’d already accomplished a LOT)....

Like, the point is, you can’t go through a shake-up like that and ever fully FORGET how complete and total a change it was, how big a rewrite of your entire life story. 

That’s a trauma all its own, one that goes largely unacknowledged, and one that I don’t think Bruce and Alfred or anyone else fully realized was even there TO need addressing in the first place. So of course how could they ever fully address it, without realizing a need?

And I think Dick’s constant moves and self-reliance are actually born of that primal awareness that there are no guarantees, that nothing is truly permanent, that anything can be taken away in an instant.

He’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everything to be taken away again - as people have pointed out in other posts, Dick can never seem to have nice things. Even the apartment building he lived in while in Bludhaven….that wasn’t some height of luxury by ANY stretch of the imagination…was lost to him, along with all the friends and neighbors and community he’d built among them, something evidenced by how highly they all spoke of him, even to a total stranger. And that’s not even getting into how even the CITY he sought to establish himself as a guardian over, like, he lost the city itself. The CITY!

Dick, I believe, insists on holding down 9-5 jobs and paying his own way and only touching money that comes from Bruce originally, when like…he has no other option or its to help someone else….just like he’s resistant to ever fully putting down roots, at least none so deep that he can’t uproot himself and quickly relocate without ripping off a piece of himself and leaving it still buried in the ground behind him. 

Because deep down, he’s always bracing for the next seismic event that’ll rip everything away from him, and he wants to be prepared. He WANTS to make sure he never takes anything for granted. That if he loses it all - hell, if he and Bruce fight again and Bruce decides once and for all to take it all away from Dick, cut their ties, something that would very much be a deep-rooted insecurity for a kid with as massive of abandonment issues as Dick must have given his childhood and a number of events after that…

Dick I think needs to trust that he’ll be capable of surviving, of standing on his own two feet, if the worst should ever happen again and he’s left on his own again. His self-reliance and obsessive need for independence aren’t a REJECTION of anyone else or anything Bruce or others have ever done for him.

They’re simply the defense mechanisms of a boy who was once upon a time torn away from everything he knew and in certain origins was then on top of that plunged into hellish circumstances before finding a refuge with Bruce….

And the man that boy grew up to be, who is determined to never be caught in a situation like that again, where his very survival might otherwise require the kindness of a stranger….with Dick knowing better than to count on lightning striking twice there, and him getting lucky a second time.

So in a lot of ways, my core perception of Dick having spent more time growing up in the luxury of Wayne Manor than any of the other kids is that its largely irrelevant to who he grew up to be. Because he was still more than old enough by the time he arrived that he had formative experiences all his own that no amount of time was sufficient to overwrite and exchange for new ones.

His experiences are so extreme in terms of the loss of all forms of stability, that the SHAPE that stability takes in the periods where his life IS stable, is largely unimportant. Because its the absence of stability that’s the defining recurrence in his life. Even the stability offered by his childhood in Wayne Manor eventually gave way to canon where he left the Manor before he was even eighteen, as well as canon where no matter how it was ultimately reversed, he was for a time affected by having the ability to call the Manor his home STRIPPED AWAY FROM HIM. Thus even when Bruce did ultimately welcome him back, there still retained an awareness that even the fact that this had happened in the first place was a reminder that even THIS was something Dick could lose, that no matter how stable his childhood there had been at times, it couldn’t in and of itself be COUNTED as a source of stability due to the simple fact that his ability to call it his home HADN’T turned out to be an irrevocable constant. 

And so this is another of those areas where I think its fundamentally an oversight to have members of the family commenting on Dick’s self-reliance or tendencies to relocate himself, let alone in any kind of critical capacity......

If there’s not going to be an acknowledgment within the family or by the people raising these criticisms like, what kind of a role the family themselves have played in Dick feeling a NEED to have these tendencies in the first place.

If someone doesn’t trust in any place he lives in to ever truly be a constant in his life, truly permanent, that anything can be taken away in the right circumstances....and you yourself have done something that has made him feel or given him reason TO leave a place he’s found stability in at some point in the past....you kiiiiiinda forsake your right to be critical of his inability to see any place as permanent or constant, y’know?

Like, insert Miranda Whatshername gif or Meryl Streep peering down her glasses and going oh I see, you think this has nothing to do with you.

So I’d argue that Dick’s insistence on simulating the average person’s reality of livelihood, even when he has other means and funds available to him….just as his insistence on being as solely responsible for the well-being of the place or people he sees as his responsibilities, being single-minded about relying only on himself for tasks that he sees as ultimately having nothing to do with someone other than himself, etc....

All that is in my opinion BECAUSE he’s so firmly attached to the reality that anything and everything can be taken away, at ANY given moment. That he can be reduced to having nothing and no one he can depend on BEYOND just his own innate skills and experiences, the only things he trusts to be truly unable to be stripped from him by others.

If you ask me, one of the core aspects of Dick’s characterization throughout his adulthood in canon is SPECIFICALLY his fear that everything he cares about, or trusts, or relies on…can be taken away from him or lost. 

And his determination to make sure that he’ll be able to survive even if that should ever happen again.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 6

Positive

Cult girl and Hannibal find a way to turn a life-altering mistake to their favor.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: accidental pregnancy, discussion of abortion, adoption, slight emetophobia

Another week passed and the 'hangover' didn't subside. Then a third week passed, so you had to give up the façade and just admit you were sick. Hannibal was smugly concerned, but not alarmed. It paid to have a doctor for a fiancé. Studying could be done from bed and you needed to be in perfect working order to burn down your grandmother's country club and fully enjoy it.

Hannibal wasn't so much of a hypochondriac that he denied you affection while bed-ridden. That, or he didn't believe what you had was contagious. Whatever it was.

It wasn't until you woke up late, just days before the start of the new semester, that you discovered. You hobbled blindly to the bathroom to take your medicine. You were fully prepared to drop to your knees and vomit in the toilet and you wanted nothing more than to return to bed and slip back into sweet unconsciousness. Not even microdosing meth could keep you awake.

You slid your birth control packet out of its sleeve. You were halfway through the green placebo pills, so you were sure that didn't help how miserable you felt. This period sure had a hell of a build-up.

That's when a number caught your eye.

It was a number you weren't even previously aware existed. A date on your birth control packet. Dated three months prior.

You weren't lucid enough to comprehend what it meant, but once it hit you, you spit the pill into the sink.

Expired. You thought. How the fuck do pills expire?

No. No. No. No.

"[F/N]?" Hannibal said. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." You called back. "I... just need to take a shower."

You turned the faucet on. It was a bad lie and he would figure it out eventually, but you couldn't involve him. Not yet. You needed a minute alone to think.

You found the pregnancy test you stashed under the sink all those years ago. You double-checked the lock, then began the test. There was no romantic or even palatable way to describe the process of peeing on a stick, quietly as possible, to avoid your frankly terrifying fiancé's notice. Once it was done, you wrapped the still-loading test in toilet paper and shoved it back under the sink.

You had no idea how long it would take to give you a result. Or if waiting four years to use it would give you a false result. There was so much you didn't know.

You jumped into the shower and washed up, trying to push all thoughts of panic out of your head. It didn't work. You went right into bury-the-body mode. A fall down the stairs could best pass for an accident, but had the unintended consequences of severe bodily harm. You wondered if those special herbal teas actually worked and where you'd find one. Or, instead of investing in gimmicky, pseudo-scientific abortion teas or throwing yourself down a flight of stairs, you could just talk to him.

You sat on the bathroom floor in a towel for what felt like hours, holding the mummified pregnancy test between your fingers. It took all your strength to rip through the tissue paper and confirm what you already knew.

A big, obnoxious pink plus sign. Almost like it was rubbing it in.

Your head was screaming just talk to him. He was your goddamn fiancé. The man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. But you couldn't tell him. Not after what he said at the country club.

"Hannibal?" You called out, voice weak. "Can you come here, please?"

He opened the bathroom door to find you huddled against the sink wearing nothing but a towel. It was a sight that would make anyone freak out.

"My god, [F/N]." He took a knee beside you. "Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?"

You gestured to the pregnancy test at your side. You hugged your knees into your chest and waited for him to process everything.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression. "I thought you were on birth control?"

You covered your face with your hands. "I did too. Nobody told me that the pills actually expire."

Then came the question that you were dreading.

"What do you want to do?"

That was why you were hesitant to tell him. Not because he would try to make a decision for you, but because he wouldn't.

"I don't know." You blurted out. "What do you want to do?"

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. "You know I can't tell you that. You need to decide for yourself."

"That's what I was afraid you were going to say." You threw your head back in exasperation. "I'm just asking for a little direction. You said you definitely wanted to have kids-"

"Not like this." He cut you off. "Not when it would derail your entire career.” 

“Look, you know I was on the fence about having kids at all.” You rambled, just trying to collect your thoughts. “But then you described what you wanted for us and it just sounded so nice.” 

“Darling, I am begging you,” He pressed his fingers to his temples. “Please, decide for yourself and only yourself.” 

“I’m trying!” You objected. “I just need a second to think.” 

“Don’t think, just answer.” He implored. “What do you want to do?” 

“I want to get an abortion.” You blurted out before slapping your hand over your mouth. 

“Was that really so hard to say?” Hannibal asked, voice broken with relief. Relief of what, you couldn’t place. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him. “It was, a little.” 

“Why?” He tilted his head curiously. “And please don’t say it was because of me.” 

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, hiding your face again. “I just learned I was pregnant, like, five minutes ago. I shouldn’t be expected to make a choice this massive without at least ten minutes to think about it.” 

“Do you really want to get an abortion?” He asked. 

Your voice wobbled with uncertainty. “No... yes?” 

“I see.” He said, as if this were just a point of academic curiosity that didn’t involve him whatsoever. “Is there a part of you, no matter how small, that wants to see the pregnancy to term?” 

“Well, yeah. Thus the basis of my uncertainty.” You threw your hands up. “But I also know it’s insanely unrealistic to think I could just speedrun my last two years of school and however long it takes to establish a career just to get to the domestic bliss.”

“You would do good to not expect motherhood to be a blissful retirement plan, love." Hannibal gently scorned. "Parenting takes just as much commitment as your studies. Likely more."

"I know." You bashed your palms against your forehead. "I said it was unrealistic, didn't I? Look, I just don't foresee any worthwhile outcomes if I carry this pregnancy to term. Even to put it up for adoption just seems selfish. Why bring a kid into the world just to set them up for a shitty life?"

Hannibal paused, and looked off into the distance pensively.

"If you could forgive me a hypothetical," He began. "What if we could guarantee them a wonderful life?"

"Are we talking philosophy, or do you have an actual suggestion?" You probed.

"A bit of both, depending on where your mind takes you." He smirked as if he were about to say something very clever. "What if Beatrice [L/N]'s estate made sure our child had a safe, comfortable upbringing? With a weighty college trust fund in their name, naturally."

You couldn't tell if this was brilliant or insane. It all depended on how 'hypothetical' the whole situation really was. Either way, you were interested.

"Go on." You urged, letting the idea slither into your mind.

"There's nothing in the will that specifically states we must raise the child ourselves." He recounted. "Only that it must be of blood descent."

You hadn't considered that, but it made sense once you heard it out loud. Your grandmother had many skills to make her a sharp manipulator, but her inattention to detail was always her downfall.

“Forty-five million extra dollars in the bank would be nice.” You said. You were humoring him at first, but when you said it out loud, it rang true. 

“Forty-five is drops in the bucket compared to what we can get from her property.” He added. “The house and the golf course.” 

You put your hand on your chin, actually, seriously considering it. You were on the precipice of inheriting more money than you could possibly spend in one lifetime. Money that could make so many problems go away overnight. Money you could hand out to anyone you wanted to, just to make their lives a little easier. You pictured yourself giving waitstaff six-figure tips, or handing a hundred dollar bill to someone asking for change on the street. You could erase your best friend's college debt as a birthday present. Get Hannibal a proper gift. All with money you bled out of your abusers.

It was divine justice. All at the price of nine months of your life.

"So..." Your voice trailed off. "We just need to keep this thing alive for the next nine months..."

"We can find an adoptive family in that time." Hannibal nodded along. "And we can set up a college fund for the child to be given to them on their 18th birthday."

"And we could make the adoption open, in case the child ever wants to meet us." You said.

"Right." He agreed. "Allowing the option for an adoptee to meet their biological parents is much better for their mental health and adjustment."

You covered your mouth with your hand, only to hide your excitement. "I take it back, I'm starting to see a positive outcome."

[deaddee-anime-brownfanlady]

More DADS BATJOKES AU HEADCANONS & OTHER  BRUCE  & JOKER (JACK)  HEADCANONS TIDBITS.

{  Here is some more personal headcanons as well other AU details bits on both Bruce and Joker/Jack who are a Vigilantes partners couple duo as well balancing crime-fighting along with fatherhood with their adopted son Malik. }                                                                                                                                                                                                  [Since moving in and living with Bruce, Jack has become super engrossed & taken a big interest in makeup products.  In Arkham he really couldn’t do much when it came to the semi slight burning tingling sensation he always feels on his skin until he meet up with Harley & she breaks him out of Arkham thus starting their crime-spree duo together, upon being in the outside world Jack discover skin care products & kits that’s somewhat helps his skin issues...while at the same time don’t exactly make what he feels go away. Since being with Bruce also now being even more within the limelight Jack has gone all out in terms of his looks, especially when both of them are in the public eye Jack is never seen without any sort of makeup on. Whether it be lipstick or eye-shadow or lip-gloss or a bit of blush, you can except to see him with some kind of makeup on.]               [ When it comes to their baby boy Malik both Bruce & Jack are equally protective Jack being twice as more protective and extra attach to Malik due to the fact that some of those within Gotham public, especially those apart of Bruce more highly rich elitist circles of Gotham 1% sees Jack as being unworthy of Bruce help also you got those that think & sometimes aren’t afraid to say it out loud...at least not within Bruce range of hearing is that they find Jack unfit to be a parent of any kind due to his criminal history also due to the fact of him being a ex-patient of Arkham Asylum.  Jack tends to not get too overly upset by these rich assholes because it’s not like its noting he’s haven’t heard before, but that always doesn’t means he’ll just stand by and take it from these upper crust hypocritical phonies.  | Jack is usually able to shut them up real quick in a funny but truthful seemingly friendly joking mocking fashion by either having fun with the wives & mentioning / joking about how their husbands are impatiently waiting to get back to their mistresses  or dropping some sick burn about how some of these rich pricks are most likely in debt up their asses and are just fronting like they got big money or some other dig at these fakeass elite wealthy people, all in all Jack can pretty much handle himself just fine against these assholes. }     ( As little Malik continues to grow & get bigger from infancy towards full-on active super aware & engaged mouths old baby, the more Bruce & Jack starts to take notice of their son growing personality.  Such as being somewhat of a silly and a bit mischievous little boy,  like having a tendency of finding small important objects such as phones or other gadgets that Bruce has no idea how a 8 to 9 mouths old baby managed to get his hands on & hides them around the manor like some sort of tiny thief.  Or how Malik seems to climb out of his crib and likes to throw things at people, but only to those he really doesn't like. }     ( In terms who Malik tends to favor more when it comes to his fathers that honor goes to the Jack!  While Malik have affections for both parents , Jack is clearly the more favor parent then Bruce, mainly since Jack tends to be the one to either handles or take care of Malik more demanding outbursts or temper-fuelled cries also he’s a lot more affectionate & openly loving also cuddly with Malik then Bruce. Not that Bruce doesn’t show affection or love towards his baby son he does...but not in the same way as Jack, as in he doesn’t go super overbroad with it.  Jack often teases Bruce on the reasons why Malik likes him so much more is due to him not being as emotional-repressed as his daddy. }          [  NOW FOR A LITTLE OF SOME  NAUGHTY & DRITY HEADCANONS BITS |  Bruce and Jack has a slight size difference when it comes to their manhoods, Jack is about average length except his cock is on the thin slander side also its pretty long but not extra too long, Bruce on the other hand is somewhat a beast down there like around 7 to 8 inches as well as being very girthy in terms of thickness which Jack appreciate very much. |  Jack is fully 100% intact as in having foreskin. Which slightly only covers an little bit of the tip of his prick, leaving a nice peek of pinkness which Bruce thinks is kind of cute also as for Bruce downstairs he’s cut.  | In terms of pubes Jack pubic hair is also green which when it comes to dealing with the rest of his unusual bodily condition he has no idea how that’s even possible, he also likes to kept it real trimmed too or shave it in creative shapes such as a heart or an triangle , Bruce pubes are also pretty trimmed up as well although there are times were he likes to keep it bushy and kind of untamed ; when it comes to sex they try to get in as much as they can especially now that they have a kid to care for.  {  There are a couple of times were they be both on patrol as Batman & Joker during a case or investigating or just got finish taking care of a villain or criminal where they are both feeling intensely on the pent up horny side and just ends up going at each other like wild animals like its nothing, often times leaving them fucking with abandon on top of roofs or within a dark allyway also even within the Batmobile more then once or twice. | They’ve also done it in the Bat cave more often then they can count, usual involving Jack riding on top of Bruce in his fancy advance computer monitors chair. }                                 

[russeliarat]

Did a bit of family tree shenanigans for the Court. I’ll give a bit more about their familial backgrounds below. Also possible spoilers for Aurora and Fable whole relationship, since it’s a big plot point that they don’t know how they’re related to each other, but since the story isn’t out yet, I guess it’s okay?

For more background on the girls’ families and future relationships:

{Sun} - 

Sun’s family is quite simple, which does reflect her simpler lifestyle. Her mother died when Sun was quite young so she doesn’t remember much of her, though seems to like how her father, Gaepora, remembers her. As her father runs the Knight Academy, she grew up learning the ways of the school and grew to graduate as a top student in both studies and combat. In the future, she does go on to marry her childhood sweetheart, Sky, and have a family with him when they came to the Surface and first established Hyrule as a small village, which would later become an actual kingdom. 

{Dot} -

Dot is a fourth generation royal, meaning that she is Sun and Sky’s great granddaughter, and thus directly related. She grew up hearing about her great grandparents’ feats and is one of the more religious as she grew up knowing she was related to a goddess. Her parents are very cautious about her, which sometimes becomes overbearing. To prevent her from leaving the castle, Dot was put in charge of guarding the Four Sword and its shrine, of which was forged by her close friend, Four, though she often manages to sneak by anyway. Dot goes on to marry another nobleman from a neighbouring kingdom to create an alliance. Unfortunately, Dot cannot say it was a happy one, but stayed incredibly close with Four, who only encouraged her to keep her younger self alive through it all.

{Lullaby} -

Lullaby grew up with a very absent mother and a confusing relationship with her father, who would rarely listen to her and often ignored her for ‘royal business’, but adored her dearly. Instead, she grew attached to her caretaker, Impa, and saw her as a mother she never got to have. Here, two major things happened depending on which timeline is followed. 

When Ganondorf took over Hyrule in the Fallen and Adult timelines, Lullaby had to take on the alias of a Sheikah boy named Sheik, go into hiding, and train to survive under Impa’s care. Impa died protecting Lullaby from an ambush of monsters, and left her alone to survive. After this, Lullaby took Sheik in as a part of her identity and found comfort in him. Whether Time dies or not, Lullaby is found to be deeply affected by the deaths around her and decides to never take anyone in as family again to avoid the heartbreak, though knows she has to continue a lineage and marries a nobleman from a different kingdom. She becomes an absent mother in her grief, and little does she know that she became the very women she came to forget.

However, in the Child timeline, nothing of that sort happens, and with a young Time’s word, is able to get Ganondorf executed before he can destroy the kingdom. Lullaby grows closer to Impa and as she nears adulthood, comes to understand her father’s constant work and absence as she is made to take a portion on herself, though equally becomes frustrated by his ways. An arranged marriage is made to take place between her and a nobleman from a nearby kingdom, though behind that man’s back, she has an affair with another and has a child, who would become Dusk’s father. She masquerades the child as the nobleman’s in order to keep him safe and secure in his life.

{Tetra} -

Tetra never truly liked her family, with a mother and father too attached to their tiny island life and a sister she was the complete opposite too, she felt isolated when she admitted she wanted to venture around the oceans. Her parents owned a boat with a small crew themselves to make money off of fishing, so Tetra was often found wanting to sail off further than she was really allowed to. One night, at 17 years old, she met Gonzo, whom she struck a deal with to go out to sea on his ship in order for her work. Gonzo, who began with very few people on his ship, happily accepted the help, and eventually found that Tetra had become a pseudo-leader for the ship due to her prior experience, soon becoming the captain herself. After HH, Tetra continued to run her ship, but sustained a severe injury during a boarding action with another ship after founding New Hyrule and found she couldn’t continue sailing. She was forced to live on the lands of New Hyrule and taught others to sail and adventure, leaving Wind and Gonzo in charge of the ship. The crew visit often as they consider her family and vice versa. Tetra went on to take in a little girl as her own during lessons, and once finding out that the girl felt isolated from her family due to her sense of adventure, took her in as if she were a second mother. She even considered the girl’s daughter her grandchild.

{Fable} -

Fable and Legend grew up together under their parent’s supervision until they were about 9 and 10, when Legend ran away from home and disowned himself from the royal family to live with the two’s uncle. A few years prior, their parents were assassinated while on a business trip to a neighbouring country, and so were taken into their grandfather’s care, who was the current king. Due to his strict, no-nonsense attitude, Fable adopted this, however it overwhelmed Legend, making him feel as if he were trapped in a cage. The two never stayed separated though, as they often managed to find themselves re-united through the various ways people have tried to destroy the kingdom, steal the Triforce etc. In the future, Fable learns to become more laidback as she becomes Queen, and marries a man outside of the royal family, and having twins, who really resembled their father more than anyone else. Her and Legend occasionally find themselves interacting, though they’ve been raised so differently, they barely recognise each other. Fable truly has a deep affection for Legend, and Legend could probably say the same for her once he works out how to deal with his emotions, though they’re both too prideful to admit it.

{Aurora} -

Aurora and her twin brother, who she fondly nicknames ‘Princey’ (or just ‘Prince’ for short), grew up with a very doting once-peasant father and sterner, more serious mother. For the first decade of her life, Aurora was brought up by both her parents, though when her mother died and her father was cast aside as he was originally from a lower-class, she and her brother grew up around her caretaker, Impa. However, she never really bonded with her parents in the first place, as she saw her mother as too strict and up-tight and her father as a people-pleaser, and so connected with her uncle and his freeloader of a roommate instead by sneaking out of the castle, and thus took mostly after him. Later in life, Aurora mends her relationship with Dawn and finds a kind of closure in her brother’s death through her. She connects even closer with Hyrule through their shared experience, and in some ways, Aurora sees a lot of Legend’s influence in Hyrule that wasn’t there beforehand. The two, with their abnormal aging, go on to leave Dawn to her royal business in the castle and stay forever bound to one another in the forests and sacred Fairy Fountains until their deaths. They never had children, but became the legend that began the Lover’s Pond rumour.

{Dawn} -

Dawn grew up with her mother and father for all 17 years of her life until HH, though like other’s they were quite absent as they were incredibly involved in the Hyrulean Royal Council and Advisors, meaning that she too was brought up by her caretaker, Impa. However, she was quite independent of Impa, and often strived to impress her parents and the council to the point she became quite frail from exhaustion and overworking, so much so that she had to pad her outfits for her to gain a healthier-looking body shape. All of which goes unnoticed by her parents, who are just proud of her hard-work and high effort. When Aurora was woken from her slumber, this was amplified by 100, and with the succession crisis, Era of Decline, and the food and water poisonings from Ganon, her health took a decline. After HH, it only got worse and she eventually died of malnutrition before the age of 30. With Aurora effectively giving up her role as a royal princess and with Dawn being unmarried and childless, the Fallen Timeline’s lineage of Zeldas technically ends with Dawn.

{Dusk} -

Dusk grew up a relatively lonely life as she was already an incredibly introverted child, though very athletic. Dusk grew up hearing of Ganondorf and his execution and feared the man every day of her life, leading her to throw herself into sword-fighting in case it were ever needed. Her parents never cared much for what Dusk did, as long as she was happy, healthy, and grew up to take on the mantle as Queen. She had one of the most normal childhoods out of anyone in the Court, actually. When the Twilight Realm merged into Hyrule, however, her parents became spirits and unfortunately, Dusk never saw them again. After HH, Dusk led an equally lonely life as her childhood, with anxieties over her curse and Ganondorf, as well as having very little friends or even acquaintances she connected with after Midna broke the mirror and Twilight returned to Ordon, which all caused her to rule from behind closed doors. Her royal advisors arranged for her to be married in hopes that it would bring her out of her room, though it never worked, even after she had a child, raising them too from the safe confines of her most private rooms.

{Athena} -

Athena grew up with only her mother and closest friend/person servant, Impa, though her mother died in a previous war many years before the War of Ages, leaving Athena and Impa to raise themselves amongst the servants of the castle. Athena grew up attached to sword-fighting and combat as she idolized the legends of heroes that fought to protect her country, though was quickly reminded that she was a princess and no hero has ever be a woman. Athena is directly related to the Child Timeline before the war, making her Dusk’s distant great-something granddaughter. Once HH has finished and she returns to her own time, she chases the adventure she yearned for as a child that she only got a taste of, and so under an arranged marriage, married Warriors so he could help her with that. In reality, the two remain platonic friends and Athena goes off to have an ‘affair’ with another person that alongside brings a child. She presents the child as if it were her and Wars’ though in truth, he has no connection to the baby and doesn’t want any children himself, instead raising the child as if he were an uncle.

{Flora} -

We all know about Flora’s family. Her mother died when Flora was young, and her father raised her from the moment he knew the Calamity would occur so that Flora would get her Goddess Powers, hellbent on the idea it would stop the Calamity. Then he died. Other than Impa, Flora had no other friends as she was so heavily sheltered during her life, though grew wholly attached to Urbosa as a mother figure as she was Flora’s mother’s close friend. On her 17th birthday, the Calamity struck and wiped out most of Hyrule, including her closest friends; the five Champions of Hyrule. After HH, Flora goes on to live with Wild as a roommate since she has thoroughly accepted that the monarchy most likely won’t be re-instated after a century without it. She is thoroughly happy to live as Wild’s companion, despite the bad memories and trauma it brings, as she has always expressed more joy in travelling and science and nature than being a princess locked away in a castle due to her lineage.

[chunhua-s]

WITH OUR HEARTS CONNECTED  ➽ WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA X READER

PART OF THE HAIKYUU SOULMATES! ONESHOT SERIES

genre: fluff

soulmate au: you are able to feel the emotions that your soulmate feels through the bond you share

warnings: none

you don’t think you’ll ever get used to this rush — the strange feelings that swell up so deeply inside your chest and cause the very wind to lose itself in your lungs. they’re so sudden and far in between that whenever they do happen, you’re left reeling from the weight of them as they slam into you. on those days, all the intense feelings that your soulmate unknowingly sends to you through your bond render you utterly exhausted, until you’d be able to collapse into his waiting arms. the strong emotions that so often had your knees jerking and your chest tightening would all melt into something so tender and undoubtedly affectionate when you got to see him at the end of each day, when he bent down so that he could press his nose and his lips against your neck and inhale the cocoa butter smell that he’d long since grown familiar with. his hands would rub gentle circles into your hips as you both came down from the high of his adrenaline, allowing the rush from countless drills and practice matches to slowly flow out of your bodies and leaving you both to finally relax into the other’s embrace.

it was certainly an experience to be ushijima wakatoshi’s soulmate. you’re one of the few people who are born with one — one of only a handful of others who had a partner whose heart would be tightly bound to your own for eternity. thus, you learned at the age of three that your feelings and emotions would be shared through the bond you had with your soulmate and vice versa. at that age you weren’t able to understand the implications of what that meant, and it became hard to identify what you were feeling separately from what you felt through your connected hearts; days where you felt so inexplicably happy that you sought around the house looking for something to do (these days, for ushijima, had been the days when he could play volleyball with his father in their garden); days where you were restless and burning with the urge to fill your long and dragging days with whatever could take that need to be active away (and similarly, those feelings were thanks to ushijima, whose father began taking him to volleyball camps as soon as his matriarchal household allowed it). thanks to those days, you ended up finding your place of relief in dance; your mother had the brilliant thought to get you into it when she realized your restless days were becoming more frequent as you grew older, and so both she and your father put together money and enrolled you into classes after school. thankfully, your being active helped to burn away all the extra energy that had sometimes caused you sleepless nights, and overtime, you eventually found your passion with dance and decided to nurture what ability you had further into your years.

it was when you grew older, nearing the age of 6, when you were hit with strong, torrential feelings of hopelessness and desolation, sometimes strong enough where it would affect you for entire days. the sensation itself wasn’t necessarily sudden, having been building up, like droplets of water slowly filling into a bucket. when that bucket finally overflowed, it felt as if you’d lost something — as if it had been taken away from you, and had gone to somewhere you couldn’t reach. it felt as if your words couldn’t find their way past your throat, stopped by an invisible hand around your neck that you couldn’t go against if you tried to. it made you want to cry and hold yourself, wondering what could be causing your soulmate to feel this way. during those days, you wished for nothing more than to reach out for them somehow, to hug them so tightly until those emotions would be a distant memory. you wanted to take their pain away and make them happy again — to let them know that they had someone who would do their best to ease their suffering in whatever way she could, however they needed from her. the feelings that followed after could only be described as cold and lonely: your head would feel so blank and empty, smothered by a fog that provided you no answers to questions you didn’t have. your days became blurred as you went through your motions and your only solace was in dance (ushijima’s would be volleyball). you sometimes felt so incredibly frustrated that you would lock yourself away and brood, sometimes you were left feeling so broken and abandoned, and no matter how muted the feelings would sometimes be (as if your soulmate was trying to push them away from his mind) they still managed to twist your heart as you could only imagine what must have been happening to your soulmate. 

you couldn’t talk to anyone in your family about it for nearly a year because you didn’t know what was wrong, only that these weren’t your feelings and that they were being shared to you through your bond. your parents didn’t know how to handle it because neither of them had a soulmate; aside from basic knowledge, they were in the dark on how to help you. and so, you could do nothing but try and push as many positive feelings as you could through your bond, hoping that somehow, it would reach your partner’s heart. “i’m here for you” ; “it hurts, doesn’t it? if there was anyway i could help to take your pain away, i would do it in a heartbeat” ; “if you can feel what i’m wishing for you right now, i hope it can bring you some comfort” ; “you’re not alone even if it feels like it, I promise.” it was the only way you could think of to help them through whatever was hurting them so much, and you prayed to whoever would listen that it would lessen the pain they felt. (it was after meeting ushijima that you learned of his parents’ divorce, and even though he was no longer grieving, you could never forget the helplessness and sorrow that he’d unintentionally shared with you as a child. you promised him that day that, whatever it would be, you would always be there to hold him through moments of pain and hurt. he smiled at you so tenderly, the sight of his normally stern expression melting with so much love, and assured you that he would do anything he could to make sure you would never hurt the way he had to).

as you grew older, you started searching online about soulmates, specifically about how you would know when you met them. the answers you found were, at the best, incredibly vague and did nothing to quell your uncertainties and budding anxieties. every forum and vlog told you the same thing: “it’s like the world suddenly grows brighter and you learn how to breathe for the very first time!” or “meeting him changed everything for me, it was like i finally found something i didn’t even know i was missing, you know?” no — you didn’t know, that had been your whole reason for searching in the first place! it didn’t take long for you to give up, growing frustrated after coming across one blog that said “you’ll know when it happens, trust me.”

at the time, you couldn’t predict just how accurate those words would be.

the ac inside the gymnasium effortlessly seeped into the sleeves of your kitagawa daiichi pe jacket, drawing goosebumps across your skin like a pattern. and yet, you felt an indescribable kind of warmth flooding through your entire body as the world around you suddenly grew muted; the screams and cries of your schoolmates, the blow of the whistle that signaled your school’s call for a time-out, it all turned to white noise that faded out of your mind, all turned irrelevant in the face of him. green eyes that reminded you of summer leaves and olive trees stared up at you from the court during his team’s discussion period, and you found yourself drowning in their depth when he became the only thing you could see. his gaze was wide and his body was turned ever so slightly towards where you stood, as if he would take off running to you had it not been for his game. the pounding of your heart, the way the sound of it filled up your ears and the way his heavy, exhausted breathing echoed out to you were like the beating of taiko drums, loud enough that they drowned out the chants of “go, go, kitagawa!” on your side, the overwhelming shouts of “shiratorizawa!” from his. nothing else mattered to you in that moment other than him.

he took off towards the doors of the gym floor as soon as the award ceremony ended and the coach had dismissed his team, not sparing even the slightest second once his gaze found yours again. you didn’t even worry about the fact that your school had just lost its match, or that your friends would be looking for you so that you could leave together. you hurried to meet him, running down the stairs two at a time (forget that you’d injured your ankle during one of your practices, the pain was near non-existent to you in that moment). you found each other in the wide hallway; he stood before you, just as breathless as you felt as bodies passed between you. hesitantly, you took one step forward, and when he did the same, every bit of fear and uncertainty melted away from your body until you were standing directly before him. the light of the sun caressed his skin with such a tenderness, bathed him in yellow lights as his hair stuck to his forehead and his chest rose with his heavy breathing. he was sweaty and worn down from his match, but with the way his olive green eyes glittered like green jewels, he was painted in the sight of something so vibrant and breathtaking; to you he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. your own heart was beating so wildly against your rib cage that you feared it would break through and fall into his hands; your breathing felt as if you’d just danced for hours and your throat felt full of all the words you’d wanted to say to your destined partner when you met them for the first time. now, they all poured out from your heart and gathered on top of your tongue like a weight.

he was the one to speak first, the natural baritones of his voice filling up your ears and forbidding that you should hear anything else other than him. “i’m ushijima wakatoshi.”

“i know.”

“oh.”

it was the first thing you thought to say, and despite the initial embarrassment you felt (because how did you even think to respond like that?) gentle laughter bubbled up from your chest and fell out from your lips. you weren’t sure why you were laughing, but your first awkward interaction with your soulmate somehow managed to remove what bit of nervousness sat lurking beneath everything else you were feeling at that moment. “sorry,” you gave him, taking a deep breath and offering your hand for him to shake. “i’m (l/n) (y/n), it’s nice to finally meet you.”

the tender smile he gave to you as he took your outstretched hand was an image that you’d permanently burned into your mind.

since then, the both of you have only grown so much more together. you learned that he wasn’t the most expressive person, where the people around you so often believed him to be an impenetrable man, nothing but the southpaw canon, the dominating power inside shiratorizawa’s volleyball club. to you, he’s your closest confidant, whose heart interlaced so tightly with your own that it was never difficult for you to understand what he’s thinking or feeling in any given moment. while his world meets the unmoving volleyball freak, you’ve been able to recognize the tell-tale signs of his happiness by the fluttering of your own heart since you were three, could so easily take one glance at his eyes and understand when he was feeling particularly affectionate after a long day of practice. the subtle lifts of his lips when he got a text from his father, or the way his brows would furrow if he was struggling with a subject he didn’t like. and the honest and pure smiles he would take to wearing whenever you held his face between your arms and kissed his forehead, his nose, each rise of his cheeks and the very corner of his lips, you get to see everything that your world didn’t get to see. and why would they? to him, no one else needs to see him like this — it doesn’t matter to him whether or not the world understands him for more than his powerful spikes; with your heart connected to his, he has everything he’d ever dream of having.

you remember one particular day during the summer. you’d met with him briefly before he went to practice, letting him know that you were heading home early instead of heading to your dance practice, the headache from your newly-done box braids wearing you down. and so, he gently kissed your forehead and reminded you to take painkillers to help. (“try and drink a lot of water,” “do you have your silk bonnet?” “i could come and help you apply your oils later on,” “no i won’t be too tired after practice. it won’t matter if it’s for you.” you could tell he felt the obvious fluttering and the gratitude in your heart when he smiled down at you and squeezed your hand in his.) after wishing him good luck, and giving him a swift kiss when you were sure no one was there to see the pair of you, you took the bus straight home where you showered, ate a light snack and immediately crashed into your bed.

what woke you up wasn’t the six pm alarm that you set so that you could start your homework, but rather a sudden spike in your heart that had your blood burning beneath your skin and rushing like molten gold. it was the same feeling that would flow down to you through your bond, during ushijima’s games where you knew him to be domineering and competitive, and yet, this one was somehow different. rather than the familiar sense of we’ll win this round, no doubt about it, the same unyielding confidence that filled you up with pride, you were instead left reeling from an overwhelming need to crush, crush, crush! it was intense and all-consuming, like the heat of a particularly hard dance number that so often emptied your lungs of that well-needed air and replaced it instead with pure and unfiltered adrenaline. a shiver ran up your spine, forcing you to sit up and hold a hand over your chest. the pump, pump, pump of your heart was reminiscent of a long day of practice, the satisfaction that you felt when you finally completed an entire routine without mistakes. it was exhilarating and consumed every thought you had, and you had to wonder if it was the match against that college team that had wakatoshi feeling this way.

the bond you shared with him told you that it wasn’t.

“i met two volleyball players today,” he explained to you easily, his voice sounding relaxed as his legs nestled you between them. his hands worked their way between each box of hair, applying drops of lavender oil and using one finger to gently massage the pain out of your scalp. you did nothing to hide the content in your voice, humming at his actions and closing your eyes to the relaxing feeling of his hands in your head.

“is that what had you so worked up earlier?”

his answer came to you in a slight nod that you caught in your mirror, his hands not pausing in their journey over your hair. your eyes held on to the reflection of his face, you watched with a smile as his lips pursed and you felt the remnants of that intense competetive fire fluttering through your bond as he remembered the two boys he met that day. “they’re interesting,” he said to you, but you knew that there was much more to it through your connected hearts. i will crush them, the words still echoed in your mind.

“you’re excited to play against them,” it wasn’t a question, left your lips with assuredness as you tilted your head back to meet his eyes. in them, you could see the very same fire lighting the green colour until it they burned like liquid lightning. when he nodded, you turned yourself around so that you could face him, lifting yourself to your knees as his hands fell from your head and instead to your waist, where the tips of your braids tickled his knuckles. “play a fun game against them and win, okay?” you whispered with the palms of your hands against his cheeks, gently caressing the skin there and placing a tender kiss to his lips. you felt your heart swelling up with every ounce of love you felt for the boy-turning-man before you, and felt it all multiply with his own affections until both your hearts were singing in sweet harmony. he smiled and chased your lips before you were able to pull back before wrapping his arms around you and placing his head in the valley of your neck.

now, as you feel a million things running through your heart, you remember the same sensation that had woken you up that evening. the overwhelming urge to crush him, crush number 10, that near consumed your entire being has you cheering louder than you ever had in your life as the fifth and final set against karasuno drew closer and closer to its end. wakatoshi is absolutely relentless, each ball he shoots over the net a command for them to stay down, to drop the ball and crumble in the face of his power. it has you burning so viscously that your hands tightly clutch over the metal bar to the point of cramping. annoyed, impatient, eager, they all choke the breath from your lungs and force you to gasp for air at the summit, and yet, you can feel his heart singing on the nodes of pleasure. he’s having fun, you know this when he glances up at you from the benches during the final time out. through your connected hearts, you’re able to feel every rise and fall that follows his jumps, his spikes, his serves; every bit of emotion that he feels wounds around the red string that binds you together and you share them as your own. as you watch your soulmate blend into his element, you support him in the best way you know how, taking everything he gives to you and pushing it into your voice so that you’re the loudest in the audience.

and through your connected hearts, you’re able to feel the love and gratitude that he bears for you.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

haikyuu!! soulmate au taglist: @nishiya-is-baby @aiiishiiiteru

wow this was longer than i expected it to be?? i decided to cut it short since the rest of it would delve into the rest of the shiratorizawa vs karasuno match and i didn’t really want to repeat what everyone already knows happened :v sorry if it’s a lil over the place, my brain’s been filled up with ushi brainrot and i kinda let myself go on this one. im not sure if i wrote him the way everyone likes but i tried to emphasize on him being more than just “ushijima the southpaw,” especially during his family’s divorce. i hope i did a good job trying to translate what i think he might have been going through during that time? in my head i feel as if his homelife with his mother would be a kind of smothering place where he wasn’t able to open up to her, and when his father was suddenly gone one day, he didn’t have anyone to show his heart to. and so the reader would do her best to let him know that, even if they haven’t met yet, she was there for him, that she could feel his pain, and that she wouldn’t ever make him hide those from her. she wanted him to know that whatever it was, he could express it to her without fearing those feelings being brushed off.

this is part of a series, so please send me an ask or dm if you’d like to be apart of a taglist! i’m currently taking request for haikyuu characters and soulmate au’s, so please come and leave your requests for those as well! thank you for reading!  ♡

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