#its nice knowing im not the only one infuriated

[maskyartist]

Good morning fellow angry people :)

*slams in* FORGOT TO SAY

If you voted for Trump and you follow me

Leave! Just go :) I don't want you here. I will NEVER want you here. I dont want you around or associated with me.

Wanted to clear the air make sure we all know where we stand

[jackass-jones]

Just the way Shin Tsukimi’s “mask off” moment is him becoming increasingly frustrated to the point of having a nervous breakdown where all he can do is laugh maniacally because he’s so done with everyone acting so incompetent and not seeing things “as they are” (aka how he sees them) is just. Mwah chefs kiss hes just like me fr 😰

[saph-yells-into-the-void]

so uhh.. does kids on the slope get better after episode 5

[aashiqui-aashiqui]

by the way when i say other cricketers i mostly mean the english players and no offence but i do not get what people see in them…like i know theres english people on here who obviously are gonna post about their own team but like i refuse to believe those players are that interesting

[every1woo]

all my live reactions :P

𝒯𝑂: 𝑆𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑂𝑁𝐸 𝐹𝑅𝑂𝑀 𝐴 𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐶𝐿𝐼𝑀𝐴𝑇𝐸 ༉

𝓘N THIS STORY 〃 a life lived as a human among the fae is one hard-earned. the folk are built of indescribable beauty, and of debauchery and mischief. for some, a life lived subservient to the folk is just fine; but to those who dream of something more, they would spend their lives clawing and biting to make it happen.

you, looking for a way to escape a life as a faerie’s human servant, put a new foot forward thinking that any life could be better than that. but, when your first assignment as a king’s spy is alongside a brooding, icy faerie man, you begin to wonder what your place in this foreign world really could be.

wc ➳ 20.2k

pairings faerie!taehyun x human!reader, faerie!yeonjun x human!reader

warnings angst, heated kissing, violence, blood, jealousy jealousy jealousy, controlling and obsessive behavior, a bit of a gross nightmare, magic spell places over a human, a bit of traditional values, i think that’s all…

playlists ⑊ yeonjun ˒ taehyun ˒ series

…🪶 ashlynn's note guys. really. that’s all i have to say. i love u and once again if u see a typo or like whack sentence…… no you didn’t. also my back hurts help

← ⑊ →

You’ve come to a thought, in all your aimless idling about the estate. Running your fingers over the surface of all the things you’ve done and the decisions you’d made leading you into this reality, you’ve been caught on one particularly worrisome divot: the geas. 

They hadn’t exactly given you a time frame, but you surmise that you’re quickly approaching the limit. You've entertained the fantasy that they’ll just consider the both of you dead, but it’s just that: fantasy. You know it’s a ridiculous thought. There’s a plethora of things that they might first assume before coming to the conclusion that you’ve met your ends. Though the geas’ workings are a bit elusive to you, you can imagine that all it would take is a tug to check whether or not you’re alive. So, if you ever really wanted to call this place home, you’ve got to do away with it. You’ve got to. Otherwise, all your wagering to stay here would be in terrible vain. You imagine how much of a fool you already look to Taehyun, considering your entanglement with the prince, and how he’d warned you repeatedly. It’s not your fault that he decided to stay here along with you, but you feel nauseous imagining your own mistakes getting the both of you killed.  

Embroidering whorling designs on the hems of your coverlets or sweating away your energy with practicing blocks and parries, you’d also let your mind wander off to fill the silence. It was then that you’d remembered what Beomgyu had offered you in his attempts at luring you. I could dissolve that geas for you.  

You sit, legs spread out ahead of you, in the little spot that you’ve found yourself frequenting these days: pressed against the side of your wardrobe, just enough room for your feet to brush against the wood framing of your bed without having to bend your knees. Taehyun has recently been bringing an influx of faeries to work the estate—all indebted to him or his father. Or, well, that’s what he tells you, anyway. You choose to believe him, but still, you wonder about the circumstances of those debts. The brownie assigned to your care, named Conifer, is long-limbed with bark for skin that crawls up from her spindly fingers and toes, just to end at her shins and fore-arm, and insists on bathing you and preparing your clothes each day. When you refuse her, she loiters around the doorway anxiously watching you prepare yourself with her watery black eyes until you decide to make her life just a bit easier and allow her to do her work. You don’t exactly adore the scrape of her sharp fingers on your scalp while she does your tresses up, though. Their presence reminds you of the servants you’d see running around Yeonjun’s place.  

In this corner, you avoid them. It’s a nice spot to betray your own resolution; his letters are only a grab of the handles away. You try not to, but you read them. Often. When your memories really get kicking, when you’re sickened by twinkling, desperate eyes looking up to you from the ground, you read them.  

“You look sorry.” Beomgyu settles opposite from you, his back against your bed. 

Scoffing at him, you pull yourself out of a slouch. “Oh, wow. Thank you. You have a way with words,” you quip, hiding the letters you’d fished out indulgently away behind you. 

He furrows his brows. “I meant it.” 

You drag in some air and release it slow. “I know. I’m sure I do.” 

He points at you with the hand he has rested on his knee. “Does it have something to do with the letters?” 

You hadn’t hidden them fast enough. Shame crawls a warm red path over your cheeks and ears. Nobody has made any comments at you for your longing, but it feels pitiful to be doing so. You shake your head. “No. I was just... thinking. About something you said when we first met.” 

Strong brows shoot up over lazed eyes. “I think I said many things,” he says, “you’ll have to tell me.” 

“That you could dissolve my geas,” you say, fiddling with your fingers. 

His eyes consider you. “It bothers you.” 

“It does,” you say. “It was a mistake. I should’ve refused it.” Hope flutters in your chest like a dead weight. You shun it away before reality can rip it out for you. 

Deadpanned, and not particularly delicately, he tells you, “I cannot break it.”  

Nodding, you wilt. It’s what you were expecting, anyway. That would be too easy. "Why not? You said it yourself that you could.” 

“A geas is a type of magic cut from the fabric of a promise. It’ll exist until the faerie that placed it over you chooses to revoke it. I couldn’t reach in and cut the line like I would another sort of enchantment.” He presses his mouth into a line. “I was under the impression that you were brought up here. Hadn’t you known that a promise is binding?” 

 Wincing, you answer, “Yeah. I did.” And yet, you made it. It was perhaps the biggest mistake you’ve made in your entire life. You now understand Taehyun’s aversion when he first made his appearance at the den. You were too tunnel-visioned to really listened to him, then. You run your hands furiously through your hair. “Still... you said you could. How did you say that, if it was a lie?” 

A wicked smile cracks over his lips—one that looks as though he’s sharing a joke that only the both of you might understand, but you’re far from being in on it with him. “A bit late to be learning how our kind play, I believe. I was able to say that because I made myself think it true. It is not plain, and it is not fair, but it’s what it is.” 

“That makes no sense,” you say, shaking your head. “You can’t believe something is true over what you already know is the truth. You’d have to acknowledge the other thing’s truth to do that.” 

He grimaces. “That you believe that is why you’ve found yourself here. It’s paradoxical, maybe, but we’re good at that. Loopholes exist where you look hard enough for them. If you don’t intend to get caught up, you just never accept a Faerie deal, there’s no other way to it.” 

Running fingers over the grooves in the wood of the floor, you say, “I suppose I shouldn’t ask you to work up an enchantment that might counteract it, then.” 

“Perhaps I could,” he says. 

Perked up and mouth dropped open, you’re ready to ask him a waterfall of questions. He cuts in before you can even start. “It wouldn’t rid you of the original magic, and I can make no promises to you that it’d be watertight.” 

“I’ll take anything,” you say. With narrowed eyes, you add, “After that whole speech about finding loopholes to lie, and to never trust faerie magic, though...” 

He frowns at you. “I see how it is.” 

“What? I mean, you said it a few seconds ago. I think getting tripped up into another Faerie trick, like, literally seconds after you warned me about them would be a bit ironic.” 

“We’re no longer friendly,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You laugh. Him considering you friends is news to you. The word is delicious. You want to say it more. “Oh, please. We’re only friends when it benefits you. How can I be so sure you aren’t tricking me?” 

“Now, we’re really not friendly.” 

A laugh bubbles past your lips once again, and you crawl over to him to try and make amends. “You’re the one who said it.” 

He turns his face from you. “Spare me.” 

“Seriously though, do you mean it? That you’d help me?” you ask. The proposition is too shiny to not consider. 

“It’s not as if I could harm you in any way,” he tells you, dropping the theatrics. “I think I’d like something in return for it, though.” 

You frown. Of course, in Faerie, there are no favors. “What would you want?” 

The kelpie’s eyes roam over your room for a moment, but it’s mostly for show, because his eyes come back on you with intent. He lifts his head at you in a pointing gesture. “Those letters,” he says.  

Frown deepening, you sit back. “The letters?” you say, trying to rein in your face. You don’t want him to see how awfully you want to cling to them. Having them is inconsequential when stood beside dealing with the geas, but still... “The ones from Yeonjun?” 

Eyes dancing with interest, he nods. “Those.” 

You pull them from behind you. They look a lot less pretty now, envelopes dented with your touches. You can’t see why he’d have any interest in them; they weren’t even for him. “Why?” you ask him. “They’re just letters.” 

Beomgyu nod his head in acknowledgment. “They are,” he says. “So why do they bother you as they do?” 

Pausing, you consider his words. Why do they? Yeonjun is a liar. You weren’t special—just a mission to him. You should hate him; seeing those letters full of flowery words and proclamations of love should anger you. And they do, they do anger you, but that doesn’t stop you from reading them. You’re not sure what you’re searching for in them. Closure? Proof of his lies? Or, excuses? 

Beomgyu has no interest in the letters. It’s his way of telling you that you need to grow a spine. You suppose it’s about time that you do just that. 

“Here.” You push them off into his hands. “You’ll do it, then?” 

The corners of his lips turn up. “Maybe...” 

You hiss and reach for your letters, but he tugs them toward himself and holds them safe out of your reach. 

“Give those back, you prick,” you say. “You don’t get them for free. It’s called a deal. You said you’d help me.” 

With his eyes dancing with wild mischievous intent, he pretends to think. “Did I?” 

You land a smack on his upper arm, groaning when it only sends his face more viciously taunting. That playing glint in his eyes is welcomed, though. At least you know he’s only playing. Otherwise, you might be more worried that he is genuinely screwing you over. “Stop playing tricks,” you say, furled out from gritted teeth. “You know you did. This is what got you here in the first place, idiot. I’m being serious.” 

His lip curls, and he relents. “Do not remind me.” 

“Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time?” you say, sending eyes with dagger points his way. “C’mon. Magic.” 

Looking kicked, he grabs your hand. It sends you back to the day you’d gotten that awful geas and the way Cricket had done the same thing. You’re going to fix that mistake. 

“I was just having my fun. I suffer a terrible drought of it here.” 

Your skin tickles, and you know he’s working on it. Heart doing nervous laps, you say, “Well, look whose roof we live under. It’s no wonder.” 

He likes that, wicked delight crackling over his features in just the same way his magic crackles through your veins. It’s a far cry from the last time you’d felt a sensation like this. It feels as though a beast of the wild is crashing through your bones like they’re hollow. It’s untamed, but you know just by the thrumming of it that his magic is much more refined and ancient than the geas’. Its claws brush up against your very core.  

You try and blink away the daze, deciding to distract yourself away from it with speech. “You know, I was thinking.” 

He raises his eyebrows, listening. His magic doesn’t falter as he offers you his attention; no need for his concentration. Not when he’s had centuries to become intimately familiar with it.  

“That maybe Yeonjun is a gancanagh,” you continue.  

A gancanagh—sugar-mouthed faeries with the power to send those around them enamored with them with only as much as their words. They’re better known for their other, and in your opinion more fitting, name: love-talker. You’d been so taken by Yeonjun, so weakened by him. The idea that perhaps it was all to the effect of some magic... You’re not sure whether it consoles you or makes it hurt more. Then again, it could also just be you trying to justify the mistakes you’d made. Your mind bends and twists around the thought, maybe the magic. Or, maybe, frustration. 

“A gancanagh,” he says. Beomgyu considers the notion for a moment, but still works his magic through you. “I’m not sure.” 

Not sure? You press the issue. “How are you not sure whether or not the prince is a gancanagh? I know you stay in your forest, but I imagine that you’d know that.” 

“Hmm.” He turns your arm as if trying for a new angle. “I believe that the prince’s mother is one of the sorrier kinds that the High King takes. He has his Ladies, and he has his courtesans. It seems that he was not so proud of her, since her name never reached my lands.” 

A bout of nausea rolls over your skull. His magic is so potent. The tidbit of information is enough to have you perking up despite it. “You think that his mother is a courtesan?” 

“Well, I know she is not a favored Lady. I know nothing of her. She could be gancanagh, or she could be any other thing.” He shoots you a pointed look. “I’m curious as to why you ask.” 

Skin clammy, you wipe at your cheek. “How long does this take?” you ask. 

“As long as I make it take,” he says, tilting his head off to one side. “Why are you worried of the prince’s heritage?” 

You know he’s fishing answers out of you. Shrugging, you tell him, “It was a genuine thought.” 

Nausea and buzzing subside as he releases your arm. “The King has many children. Only some were really considered for their father’s throne, though. I know that the young prince was never one of them. I suggest thinking on that.” 

You blow out a shuddering breath, controlled and small, to compose yourself under the weight of this new magic. “That’s it?” you ask, brushing some hair away from your face. “What did you do?” 

“Mostly, blocked.” 

“Elaborate,” you say, running fingers over your skin as if you might feel the magic there. 

Taken with amusement, he answers, “If the one who placed the geas there tries and play that card, they’ll find the pathways blocked.” He slumps back onto your bed. “It does not mean that the original magic is gone. It is still very much there. Just... hindered.” 

Your head swims. It’s not gone, but this... You know that your sleep will come to you easier now. Maybe it’s not foolproof, but this is much better. Much. 

“No more deals,” he tells you. “You’ve only got so much of yourself. Each time you fill yourself up with our magic, you lose that space. You will never be whole again, but you ought to savor what you’ve got left. You can only make the best of it.” His mud brown eyes are not joking, now. 

Blinking, you fumble out a nod. 

You’ll never be whole again. You hope that’s more a clever wording than the truth, but with the chill that grips your belly and brushes over the overfilled parts of you, you fear you can’t help but believe it. 

❆

You hate it. 

Drowning in it—you hate it. You hate the scarlet red of it, you hate the sticky spray of it on your skin, hate the cries of agony that follow its ceremony, and the feel of its blazing warmth fresh from the body. You’re choking. Swimming up with thrashing arms, it’s so thick that you make no way.  

The liquidity turns to sturdy arms. They cage you, grab your heart and twist, point daggers at your chest and they whisper words in your ears that you don’t want to remember. Your place is in the dirt, they say. You are nothing. A boot in your neck chokes you. You want to scream and cry that you are good, that you didn’t want to hurt them, that you’ll just mind your place if they take their boot off from your neck, but you can’t. You have no voice. 

The metallic tang of the blood follows you, even as you find yourself standing in Court. It stains the muddy floor a wretched color. A thousand eyes blaze on your skin.

You feel them looking at you. You want them to stop, but they laugh and laugh. Yeonjun joins them, looking up at you with vile mock.

“You think I’d beg for you?” he sneers. His sweet voice is warped and twisted into something ugly and mean that grates at your ears and heart. His laugh echoes, and then you’re looking up at him as he hovers over you. “You don’t deserve my begging. I hate you.”

Metal burns your nose, and when you look between the two of you, he’s bleeding from the stomach—from the dagger you’d plunged there. He looks up at you, livid eyes piercing you. “Look. Look what you did. You killed me.”

You shake your head frantically, going to hold his face. You try to tell him no, no you didn’t—you didn’t kill him, but still—

Shooting up, you grasp for breaths and clutch at the bedding. Heart thudding in your chest, you find Taehyun stood in your doorway, looking dragged from sleep. 

You adjust your sleep gown, disheveled with sleep and ridden up your thighs. Still piecing together consciousness, you croak out a, “Huh?” 

There, tickling at the back of your mind, you still smell blood. 

“I thought something was wrong,” he says, taking in the room with a thorough sweep. “You sounded...” Taehyun starts, but does not finish. “Since you’re doing fine, I’ll leave you to sleep.” 

“Stay?” you blurt, before he can turn and leave you here. Your voice comes out thinner and more fragile than you’d meant it to.  

Brows shooting up, Taehyun is hesitant to step into the room. “It’s probably hours before sunrise,” he says. “You don’t want to fall back asleep?” 

You shake your head. No, you don’t. If you do, then you’ll be back to drowning. You might not even be able to fall asleep at this point. The taste lingers. You’re still panting a little when you say, “I don’t want to bother you, but... Please.” 

Taehyun relents apprehensively, stopping just before the end of your bed. Moonlight blooms over his face from the window. It makes a show of his sharp cheek and jaw lines and emphasizes the feathering of his jaw around a hard swallow. “You were having a bad dream,” he says, an observation rather than a question. “About what?” 

Him standing over you like that; it doesn’t feel so easy to tell him that you’re haunted by what you’ve done. You wince at him and send a gesture up. “You don’t have to stand there. You can sit here.” You pat at the opposite end of your bed. 

He flexes one hand, a rare anxious gesture from him. “I wouldn’t just invite myself into a lady’s bed.” 

Well, he didn’t have to put it like that. 

You say, “I’m inviting you to sit down next to me, Taehyun...” 

It’s a few moments before he does, bed dipping beneath him. Like this, it feels much less like an interrogation. Insects buzz outside, singing their song to the stars and mercifully filling up the moment that you take to pluck up composure. He watches you, but doesn’t say anything. He waits. 

Catching a few strands of your scattered thoughts, you say, “Do you get nightmares sometimes? About the people you’ve killed?” It’s blunt and not much, but it’s all you have in you. It’s a thought that has served as a thorn in your side for quite a while now, too. Is it only you who’s had a prison made of their own mind? 

 Will it ever go away? 

Resolutely, he shakes his head. “No. I don’t.” 

“Oh.” You hold yourself a little harder, as if the chill that passes over you is a draft from the window and not bitter dread. “How? How can you not be bothered by it? They’re dead, and they’ll never be coming back. They had as many thoughts and wants as we did. They had mothers that might weep to know they’re gone. I can’t... I don’t stop thinking of them.” 

“It’s a bit too late for me to start feeling sorry for it,” Taehyun says. “You can’t let it rule you. Not everybody is good, and they were not. If they try to hurt you, you hurt them first. If they lay their hands on you, you cut them off.” 

You grow tense as he explains, eyes so heavy that you can practically feel the dark hollows beneath them. “Not even when you hurt someone for the first time? It didn’t bother you then?” 

He eyes you. The pine smell of him so close to you is both familiar and a distant memory. “I saw blood too early for it to ever haunt me.” 

Turning finally, you find his eyes. “I feel so guilty.” Your body buzzes with the need to curl into him, to have him comfort you for it, but you know that he won’t receive it the way you want him to. The way Yeonjun had.  

But you need it. You need it so bad right now. 

“That won’t absolve it. Guilt will not raise them from the dead,” he says. It’s forthright, but he doesn’t mean it to disconcert you. “You’re tearing yourself up inside, but there’s justice in protecting yourself.” 

Swallowing around tension, you nod. He’s right; you had every right to kill those times. You’ve known that the whole time. So, why does it still visit you in the deep hours of the night? You chant his words in your head, as if to beat them into your skull. If you try hard enough, you will. 

“What happens?” he asks, when the both of you have been quiet for too long. It’s strange to see him making attempts to fill silence. “In the dreams, what happens?” 

Shifting into a cozier position, you lean into the headboard by your shoulder. Some of the adrenaline has worked itself away, but remembering it is still bitter.  

You don’t miss the flickering of his eyes over the expanse of your thigh. You might’ve explained it away as a quick glance if that... look had not passed over his face. Restraint—darting eyes and his throat bobbing. It seems that his concern about being in your bed was about more than just propriety. 

“Mostly, blood.” You make a distraction out of the hemming of your blanket, pinching and picking at it. “So much of it. Sometimes the dreams are different, but... it’s always the common theme.” 

Acknowledging that, he dips his head in a slow, shallow nod. “We’ll start training you on the bow, then.” 

“The bow?” you ask.

“I think that the long range will be better for you,” Taehyun elaborates.

You drink his face in once more. In it, you see him reaching out a hand—it’s shaky and awkward and untrained. But under all that, you see that he’s trying. In the silver moonlight, the bow does not look so bad.

Taehyun doesn’t leave you until dawn cracks through the windows.

❆

You wish that you had your gloves. It’s freezing today—wind whipping your hair and teeth chattering even through your extensive layering. You have, like, two pairs of woolen stockings on. But Taehyun said that you’ll need to be able to grip the bowstring good, and so you abandoned them when you’d dragged all this on. 

He’d made good on his word. Now, you’re out in some shallow neck of the woods, and he’s pointing out the trees that you’re supposed to be using for targets. They’re obscured in the onslaught of snowy haze. You want to gripe that he’d picked the worst day to drag you out here, but really, you know it was a fully intentional choice. 

“No bullseye for now, just try and hit them wherever you can manage.” Taehyun makes a gesture up at the array of trees. “Don’t forget that the wind is blowing west. You’ll have to adjust for that.” 

He watches you take up an arrow, quiet as you clumsily wiggle it around until it sits in a spot that feels relatively correct. 

“Higher,” he finally says. “Find the rest for the arrow, and then you’ll find the nocking point on the string.” 

You fumble with the placement some more, freezing fingers not as agile as they could be. Just as he said, the arrow falls into a place where it sits comfortably. “This?” 

He hums, voice closer. “That’s good. Now, you lift it just like that. Don’t lose that hold, and pinch the back of the arrow, behind the feathers, with your knuckles.” 

Raising the bow, you’re so concentrated on keeping the arrow in place that it shocks you how hard it is to pull the bowstring. The further back you pull it, the more force it demands from you. You only manage to bring it halfway before you stop. “Woah.” 

Wind stops brushing your cheeks and hair so hard, and Taehyun’s voice comes from right beside you this time. “Harder than you thought it’d be, huh?” he says, smirk in his voice matching the one you find on his mouth when you turn to look at him. “It’s going to be hard for a while. You’ve got to build up the muscle for it. For now, you just have to power through it.” 

You try again, finding the spot where your muscles protest and then going beyond it. Your arms tremble, some spot in the middle of your chest aching with it. You sift through the trees, rushing to find one to release the arrow on before you can no longer maintain the hold. 

“Stand straighter.” He reaches over to adjust your arm, pulling the string-wielding one even further back and forcing your chest further open. Your arms burn. You’re not sure how much longer you can hold like this. 

“Hurry,” you say. 

“Go ahead.” 

Deciding on the nearest tree, you let the string go from between aching fingertips. It misses and passes the tree to land somewhere in the foliage behind it, but not as awfully as you’d expected. Hissing, you shake out your arms and stretch your shoulders to try and kill the burn, but it lingers. “You made that look a lot easier than it really is,” you tell him. 

“My first shot looked a lot like that,” he says, leaned back into a tree. “That was a great first try. I should’ve had you on the bow earlier.” He motions to the bow. “Show me another one.” 

Arms still ringing, you sloppily repeat. None of the arrows meet their mark, and you get worse with each. You’d done so well with the first one, though. Frustration sparks in your chest, catching into a flame when this one misses as well. The cramping in your shoulders and the gnawing of frost at your fingers do not help your temper. “Guess that was beginner’s luck,” you say, jaw tense. “I can’t shoot for shit, now.” 

Pushing himself off the tree, Taehyun approaches you once more and says, “It helps if you breathe out before letting the arrow go, but it’s mostly that your arms are tired. Today isn’t about aim, it’s about repetition.” Now in front of you, his eyes dart down to your mouth, but it’s a split-second look. You’d have missed it with a blink. You want to ask him why he keeps looking at you like that—like how he had in your bed that one night. You don’t want to make the air awkward, though.  

To be more honest with yourself, you’re afraid to ask. You’re afraid what the answer might be; you have don’t even have the foggiest clue. “Maybe we should go back. I’ll just stick with what I know.” 

“So, you’ll just give it up when it gets hard?” he says, a little ticked off. A muscle in his jaw feathers.  

You wonder what he’s thinking, beyond just what he’s saying. What he feels beyond what he’ll let you see. The reason that Taehyun dropped the spy life the moment you’d told him you’d stay here with Yeonjun is still just as elusive to you. You’re no fool—you’d seen the look that passed over his face when you had. It had brought a chill down your spine, something hollow but also desperate. Taehyun does not seem like the type taken to puppy love. He does not seem like the type to follow whims, either. So, what is this? You’re unsure what to make of it, and what to make of him.

You two had been snapping teeth and blazing arguments, but what lays beneath that? Why does the impenetrable man let you get under his skin the way he does? 

“Yes,” you say, just to ruffle some feathers. “I’ll just keep working on swordplay.” 

He catches the bait. “Then, what are we out here for? I thought close combat was bothering you.” Flakes of fluffy snow sit on his hair, white petals against black. “And, it doesn’t hurt to diversify your skillset. Not with a war looming.” 

Frustration gives way to softness. Taehyun doesn’t have to be out here. He has no obligations to help you with your ridiculous, pitiful dreams. You’re thankful for it, no matter how rugged he comes across while doing it. “I’m just messing with you. You make it too easy,” you say, offering him a smile. Beneath it, you’re left reeling with the reminder about the war. In your choosing to omit it from your thoughts, you’d just about forgotten about it. Anxiety comes crashing back through the crumbling dam. By now, the King has absolutely realized that Yeonjun is not coming back. Does he think that the north has hurt him or holds him hostage? He might start the war himself, then. A thought dawns upon you. That might’ve been the intention all along—to have him start things, to remain faultless. Taehyun had said that the Queen is a scheming sovereign. 

“War,” you say, licking over chapped lips. “Do you think it’ll really happen? That it’ll come to battles?” You can’t help worrying. You’ve chosen your side in staying here. What if that was the wrong choice? What if your betrayal comes around to bite you? Or, what if the north’s reputation for brutality ends up doing the job before it ever can? You feel surrounded by death—surrounded by walls of violence, where too far in one direction would be your end. “It’s not as if I’ll be fighting, though.” 

Face solemn, he says, “Let’s start heading back.” 

That draws no complaints from you, tucking fingers under your arms to try and save them. He hadn’t answered your question, though. “Taehyun?” 

Brittle leaves and brush crunch underfoot. “It’s coming.” 

Narrowing your eyes at him, tensed in the shoulders, you ask, “Why are you acting like that? Are you hiding something from me?” 

The both of you pause to let a dryad scurry off, snow falling off its bark skin in chunks as it crashes through the forest and away from you. These woods are a lot fuller than the ones you’d found Beomgyu in. 

“Taehyun,” you repeat. Your stomach is sick. Skin burning, you get flashes of memories—of Yeonjun’s guilty eyes that night. It rushes through your bloodstream like icy water. This feels like an overreaction, but your body does not align with your stuttering heart. You can’t tamp it down. “What is it? I don’t like secrets.” Your voice comes out fragile, like it’ll break in the frigid air like ice and fall down to the ground in a crash. 

His face is hard. You don’t like that, either. 

“You’re not going to be fighting, but I know what is planned. It’s messy; messy and dirty. And dirty wars are not afraid of collateral damage.” 

Frowning, you ask, “How do you know what’s planned?” 

“It’s a general’s job to know the war he leads his army into.” 

You stop dead. “Are you serious?” you snap, voice on a tight leash. “Seriously, Taehyun?” He keeps walking, forcing you to tear your feet from their spot to follow him. Jogging to match his stride, you say, “So, you’re just going to take up his will? You’re going to lead a war, like him? What about me, Taehyun? What happens to me?”  

It seems that he’s fully taken over his role as heir to his father and his estate, but why? Why, if he sheared off his own ears to escape that legacy? Taehyun’s moral code has exceptions for violence, but he said it himself—he doesn’t like senseless killing. Not like what would come with taking on this role.  

“Being general secures me a seat while they discuss their plans. It means I have sway in what happens. This is not for my enjoyment, or for power, like how my father saw it,” he says, measured and steady. “You’ve not seen a Faerie war. They’re given to dramatics, and they span... they span long. If something is going to happen, it’s better off that I’m in the room that they discuss it. Otherwise, we’re just sitting here and crossing out fingers that we don’t get caught in the crossfire.” Head held high, he adds, “This is my duty.” 

Anxiety warms your frozen bones. “Duty?” you say through a caustic laugh. “You’ll be going to war, Taehyun.” 

“Not petty battles. If something more drastic happens, I suppose I would, but being a foot soldier is not my role in this. Maybe my father would’ve, just to see the blood and carnage, but not me,” he says, as if that makes it any better. 

“I don’t like this.” 

“They know we were here as spies. They could decide at any moment to kill us. As general, my position would protect us.” He levels you a stare, hard. “You decided to stay here for him, so this is what I have to do.” 

A terrible sickness settles in your stomach with his words. These are the consequences to your actions, for your overenthusiasm, but you feel more like a burden than sorry for yourself.  

You want to tell him to stop paying the prices; that it’s not his job, but a chilly breeze sings in your ears that it’s much too late for that.  

  ❆

Biting back complaints and the prickling of tears, you let Conifer work on your hair. She’s merciless with the tugs and pins, fingers threading through strands to tug them up into the frilly and loose updo.  

“Why do I need to be dressed?” you ask her, watching her work dutifully behind you through the mirror. 

“My Lady,” she says around a pin she holds in between her lips. “One moment.” 

“You don’t have to call me Lady, or anything,” you tell her, wincing at the sound of it. “I’m no more a Lady than you.” She’d come into your room, nervously plucking at the pine needles on her forearms as she informed you that she needed to get you prettied up. It’s random, but you’d perked up immediately. It’s been so long since you’ve done anything—so long since you had a reason to look pretty and drag on glittering dresses. Not doing the work yourself is strange, though. You wonder if this is what your life would’ve been with Yeonjun, with servants waiting at every corner to pamper you and make sure that your hands never again see any type of hard work.  

You shake those thoughts away. That’s not your life here in Taehyun’s estate. It does you no use comparing. You’re not so used to this, anyway. It gets under your skin a bit, though you know they’re working off debts in his service.  

“Oh, the Lord would prefer that I do,” she says. A sharp pin scrapes up against your scalp as she pushes it in, securing up a willowy tress. All Yeonjun’s gifts—the dress she’d laid out for you, and the jewels she garnishes you in. How strange is it to have Taehyun’s servants dressing you in Yeonjun’s things? You still don’t know why he even bothered with bringing them in. You all were managing before. It's not as if any of you are the type to demand being waited on, anyway. You all have lived in more humble means. Beomgyu literally comes from the forest. And, why would it even matter how she addresses you to Taehyun? 

It wouldn’t be fair of you to demand her to call you otherwise, then. You nod. “I’m sorry you have to work for me.” 

“Oh, it’s no bother, dear. I’m grateful that the Lord has chosen such a way for me to pay him for my debt.” She tugs a few tendrils loose. It looks now more like the style is worn in by a good night spent dancing and laughing than freshly combed up. “There are worse ways to do so.” 

That’s right. For her, servitude is only a result of some extrenuating circumstance. Your servitude was nowhere near your fault. That’s where the difference lies; why she can be so blithe about it. 

“What happened?” you ask. It’s an invasive question, sure, but you prefer to ask it straight. No buttering it up or smoothing over words. 

“The late General spared my life on a whim. I’d worked this estate for years, even watched the boy grow into his manhood, until the General passed and the young Lord went disappearing. No reason to work an empty estate. And now, by bloodline, my debt is owed to him.” 

You frown. Serving under Taehyun’s father, only because he decided out of the kindness of his heart to not murder you, sounds harrowing.  

“But, that’s of no importance, dear. The Lord is expecting you; the Queen holds council soon.” Hastily, Conifer slides one last pin in, just for safe measure. “It’s terribly important that you maintain good manners, dear. Stay by the Lord, and do not speak unless they speak to you.” 

Council? He’s expecting you to come with him to a war council? You pause, but she ushers you up and away. 

Bounding down the stairs in a flurry of feet, you hold your skirts in a death grip, heart clenching with nerves. Once, you’d been a mirror to this—panicking over attending Court for the first time. That was nothing. If you had been oblivious to Court propriety, sitting in on a Faerie council in the presence of the Queen and her entourage... You’re screwed. So, so screwed. 

Taehyun waits beside the blackthorn tree. Noticing you, he greets, “Ready?” 

“You’re serious about this?” you say. It’s hard to speak around the lump in your throat. “Why do I have to come? It seems more like a risk than anything.” 

Brows furrowed, he adjusts his tunic. “You’re smart, aren’t you?” he says, cadence flat and matter-of-fact. “It’s not a risk. I’m bringing you so that they know you’re with me. You won’t have to come to any more after this, unless it’s what you want.” 

Frowning, you say, “I feel as though they’ll react not so kindly to a human just... waltzing into a war council. You really think they’ll just let me come and sit in?” The Queen will be there, and all the terrifyingly massive players in the Unseelie Court, and then... You. You’ll just have to make yourself seem important enough to be there. Taehyun is one of those invaluable players now, you suppose. The General. Your mind still struggles to wrap itself around the enormity of that.  

Will Yeonjun be there? He’s no doubt got the status. You pick at your fingers viciously. You’re not ready to see him again; not sure if you’ve fortified your walls enough for that yet. You might crumple with just a glance, but to sit in the same room as him? 

“They’ll trust my judgement,” he says. The lines of his face do not carry the same confidence that his voice does. “You’re not just stumbling in. You’re walking in with me.” 

“But, I’m sure they’re all very aware by now that we were spies. Doesn’t that leave a stain on your word?” 

He reaches up to a low-hanging branch, dark and bristling with thorns, and snaps off the very ends of them into thin poles of twig armed with spikes. The thistles remind you of his eyes—in fact, the whole tree does. Barbed and dark and sturdy; the House of Blackthorn could not have better chosen their symbol.  

“They made me their general,” he says, circling until he’s come behind you. “They’ve already made up their minds.” 

Tugging at your hair tells you that he’s wiggling those sticks, black and sharp, into the updo, as if they’re accessories. It’s like what he’d done with those berries just before you’d gone to Court for the first time, but these twigs do not act like a ward like they had.  

You turn to interrogate him and his sudden interest in your hairstyle, but confusion splinters off into nothing when his cold hand brushes at the back of your neck. In a heart-pounding moment, his sword-roughened fingers drag down the length of your jaw from behind. He grabs your chin his hand and turns your face further toward your shoulder. Snowflakes and the breeze and the stars all stand frozen around you. Or, maybe, you haven’t got the will to pretend they exist while he’s leaning down so that he’s right in your ear and whispering with puffed breaths that raise chills on your skin. 

Under his breath, low and just for your ears, he says just one word. It’s one that you don’t recognize, curling in a way that you doubt your tongue would be able to even pronounce. As quickly as the moment had come, he releases your face. Snow crunches under his feet as he retreats. 

Blinking for a moment, you spin on your heel to follow him. You make a point to not catch his stride fully, though. He absolutely should not see how ruffled you are. “What does that mean?” 

He doesn’t answer, only leaving you in a flustered, charged silence. You beg the wintry breeze to carry away your racing thoughts, or at least to lick at your cheeks and cool them. Whatever it was that he’d said, you can only assume it to be in an ancient Faerie tongue. 

With a stuttering heart, you follow him. You’ll just have to whistle in the dark. If you don’t do it scared, you won’t do it at all, and you’re always scared. 

❆

Inside the council room, a handful of who you assume to be the Queen’s most important advisors sit around a circle table. On that table stand war maps and a collection of letters and objects no doubt important to plans and intel. 

In one of those seats sits Yeonjun. Of course, he’s here. You’d anticipated as much, but that doesn’t change the way you jump right out of your skin the split second your eyes meet. It’s a fiery exchange, sending sparks up your spin and rendering your mind a blistering mess. His eyes are hard. He doesn’t shy away from it the way you do, tearing yourself away to sit in the seat next to Taehyun’s.  

It’s not just Yeonjun’s eyes that burn on your skin. They’re wondering why you’re here. You itch to dip out and away from their scrutiny. 

“Do I have to say anything?” you say, voice barely anything but a whisper as you lean over to Taehyun. “Like, announce myself or anything?” 

“Not now,” he says. “Not unless you’re asked to.” 

Fidgeting with your dress under the table, you dip your head in a shallow, quick nod. You’ll just mind your own, unless you’re forced to do otherwise. You can’t risk saying something that’ll end up screwing you both over. 

Chairs scrape the floor, faeries standing and dipping at the waist. You follow them. Your back is to the door, but you don’t need to see to know who’s arrived. The Queen. 

She sits in her seat, at the head of the table, and everybody else follows. You swallow hard. Her eyes, hardened and storm-colored, pin each of the attendees as she sweeps the room. A diadem of twigs and rotted leaf lays on her tangle of hair. The Unseelie Queen; she looks the part. Breath catches in your throat when her eyes come to you. 

When she opens her mouth to speak, jagged teeth reveal themselves from behind grey lips. “The human girl. Does the Blackthorn house claim her?” she asks. Her voice commands the air—both slackened and imposing. 

Yeonjun’s eyes bare down on you.  

Taehyun answers her. “Yes. She is my retinue.” 

One of the council members, with a haughty, long face and a sneer to match it, says, “Is this the girl that you sang so profusely to us for, prince? The spy girl?” His ruffled sleeves flourish as he gestures. He’s dressed especially plummy among them, but they all are dressed in glittering robes and tunics. This faerie no doubt thinks highly of himself, though, to be poking at Yeonjun.  

Yeonjun had spoken of you here?  

You feel a little frozen. Becoming the center of their attention is the very last thing you’d wanted. Rather than sinking back into your seat, you claw at your insides to keep your head held high. You do exchange a quick glance with Taehyun, who’s mouth is pulled taut.  

He takes it in stride. “Yes, it is.” 

“You beseeched us for her safety, but...” the black-haired faerie continues, “She’s sat beside our General.” A cruel smile plays on his lips. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “And I believe it to be unprecedented that a human joins us here, your highness.” He turns to the Queen, a smile that tells exactly of the game he’s playing. 

“Not here,” the Queen snaps. “We haven’t the time for this. Who cares. Let’s not waste what slight time we have, with all of us in attendance.” 

The black-haired faerie snaps his mouth shut, but a nasty attitude lingers. 

Another speaks up. “Your majesty, is there not something to be said of the exclusivity pertaining to who we meet here with?” 

She drums her fingers on the arm of her seat. Bored. “Be gone with it. I did not know you’d become so wary of humans.” 

That stings. You’re not even worthy of being a threat. Jaw tightened, you grit your teeth. 

“She has ears,” he says. “And a well-working mouth, I’m sure, and we have delicate issues to discuss.” 

None of them press any further as she sends them a pointed stare. They begin offering up and discussing their positions and knowledge, much of it lost on you. All you’re thankful for is that most of it is bickering over how to approach the war, and not plans for full-fledged schemes.  

Taehyun offers up his approach a few times, his voice carrying strong and his shoulders squared. Yeonjun does not speak much at all.  

And when it’s over and everybody disassembles, you know you’ve got to leave. Fast; fast enough that Yeonjun will not be able to corner you into a conversation that you are too flimsy to be having. As you do, though, you war against every instinct in your body—heart and feet and arms ringing pleas in your bones. You can’t. Really, you can’t. 

“Pretty.”  

That voice, smooth but also so very sullen now, shatters your frenzied bubble. You go solid and frozen to the ground. 

“Pretty, look at me,” he grits out, voice cracked down and raw.  

When you don’t, he steps around you. His eyes dart up, taking in something on your head, and then his jaw ticks when he finds something he doesn’t like. The blackthorn twigs in your hair. 

He’d looked sullen and detached when sitting at the table, but here, up close, he looks awful—far and beyond worse than you’ve ever seen him. It’s as if you’d ripped the heart right out of his chest and asked him to go on living without it. In the hollowness there’s a sadness, but there’s also a blazing anger. 

A frozen hand takes your upper arm and tugs hard. “Come on. We’re leaving.” Taehyun’s voice is hard. 

You stumble forward with him, summoning the will within you to not look back while you do. You do not want to watch his face as you leave. You absolutely cannot. Your gut twists viciously.  

You’re pathetic, missing him the way you do. 

❆

When you get the first letter, you accept it from the servant uneasily. You don’t even ask whose letter it is. The wax seal tells you enough, but you’d know even without it. Yeonjun has broken his silence. 

It confuses you. Taehyun had intercepted his letters when he sent them before. Why does he not bother, now? It doesn’t feel like a kindness. It feels intentional—like a gambit. Beomgyu had made a point to take those original letters from you. You know he meant well in the cheeky way that he shows his companionship, but you’re spineless after all, and they come at a very weak moment. Just as you’ve built up wavering pillars, he reaches in and crumbles them down as if they were nothing.  

ℐ 𝑘𝓃𝑜𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝓊 𝑡𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑘 𝑡𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝑡’𝓈 𝑙𝒾𝑒𝓈, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝑡 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓅𝒶𝑟𝓉 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓁. 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝒾𝑛𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝑡 𝓅𝒶𝑟𝓉 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝑙. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝓇𝑦 𝒷𝒾𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝑙. 𝐹𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝓇𝑦 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝑛𝓉 ℐ 𝑙𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝑡𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝒹. 𝒩𝑜 𝑙𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑟 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝑡𝒽𝒶𝓉. 𝒲𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝒹; 𝒲𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝑣𝑒𝒹 𝑡𝑟𝓊𝑒.  

𝐼’𝓂 𝓈𝑜 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑦 𝑡𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉𝒾𝑛𝑔 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑦 𝒸𝒾𝓇𝒸𝓊𝓂𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝑡𝓇𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝒸𝓉 𝑙𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 ℐ’𝒹 𝒽𝓊𝑟𝓉 𝑦𝑜𝓊. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝓌 𝑡𝒽𝒶𝓉’𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑟𝓊𝑒. 𝒟𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝑘𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝑟𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝑙𝒾𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝑜.  

𝒴𝑜𝓊𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓊𝑛𝓉 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝑦 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝑙𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝑡𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝑛, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑦𝑒𝓉 ℐ 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉.  

𝒞𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝑛𝒹 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝓊𝑟 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓈𝑡 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝒾𝓉. 𝐼 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓇𝑣𝑒 𝒾𝓉. 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝑡 𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓎 𝑡𝒽𝒶𝓉; 𝐼 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝑙𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒹𝑟𝑜𝓅 𝑜𝑓 𝒾𝓉. 𝒯𝑒𝓁𝑙 𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝑡𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑓𝒾𝓍 𝑡𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝑛𝒹 ℐ’𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝑣𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝒶𝓈𝑘 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑛𝑜𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝑡𝒽𝒶𝓉.  

𝒴𝑒𝑜𝓃𝒿𝓊𝑛 

You’re able to let this one roll off your shoulders, but the next few are not so easy. 

𝐼 𝑤𝒾𝑠𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ℎ𝑎𝒹 𝑠𝓉𝒶𝓎𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑙𝒾𝓈𝑡𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝑟��𝑡𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑤𝒽𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃’𝑡, 𝑎𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑒𝑡, 𝐼 𝑠𝓉𝒾𝓁𝑙 𝑤𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ℎ𝒶𝒹. ℐ’𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝒾𝑠𝑡𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊.  

𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 ℐ 𝑝𝓁𝒶𝑔𝓊𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝓊𝑟 𝑚𝒾𝓃𝒹. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝑓𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝑤𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝓈 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑡, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℐ 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝑡 𝑏𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝓊 𝑏𝒶𝒸𝑘 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑡𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝓂𝑒: 𝑚𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝑠. 𝒲𝒾𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒, 𝓃𝑜𝓉 ℎ𝒾𝑚. 𝒩𝑜𝓉 ℎ𝒾𝑚.  

𝒫𝑒𝓇𝒽𝒶𝓅𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝑙 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓅𝑡 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝑏𝓊𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝒾𝓁𝑙 𝓃𝑜𝓉. 𝒯ℎ𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝑡𝒽 𝓊𝓃𝑓𝒾𝓃𝒾𝑠𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝑤𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑟𝒾𝑒𝑣𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒𝑠.    

𝑁𝑜. 𝒯ℎ𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝑠𝓃’𝑡 𝑒𝓃𝒹.   

𝒴𝑒𝑜𝓃𝒿𝓊𝓃 

The letters change with your prolonged silence, too. 

𝒮𝑒𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑟𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝑏𝓎 ℎ𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒, 𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝑓 𝓎𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓈… 𝒟𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑤𝒶𝑛𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝒸𝑟𝒶𝓏𝓎? 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 ℐ’𝓋𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝓉 𝓈𝑜 𝑜𝑢𝓉 𝑜𝑓 𝓂𝓎 𝑜𝓌𝑛 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑤. 𝐼𝑓 𝓉ℎ𝒶𝓉 𝑤𝒶𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝒾𝑛𝑡𝑒𝓃𝑡𝒾𝑜𝑛, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ℎ𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝑟𝑘 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙. 

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑛𝑢𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝒾𝓈 𝑏𝒶𝑛𝒾𝓈ℎ𝓂𝑒𝑛𝓉 𝒾𝑓 𝓎𝑜𝑢 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉, 𝑏𝓊𝓉 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓉ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝑛. 𝐼𝑡'𝓈 𝑜𝓃𝑙𝓎 𝑓𝒶𝓉𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌ℎ𝑜 𝒶𝓂 𝐼 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒 𝑤𝒾𝑡ℎ 𝑓𝒶𝑡𝑒?  

𝒴𝑒𝑜𝓃𝒿𝑢𝓃 

It’s jarring, it’s more of that desperate pleading that you’ve been trying so hard to escape, and it’s burrowing deep down into the tender parts of your heart like a stake. 

There are some letters that are even more frenzied than that. They’re testaments to his promises: this doesn’t end. 

You had been sorely mistaken in thinking that Yeonjun would just step away. Terribly mistaken. Deep in your belly brews the feeling that this is not going to go over as smoothly as you hoped it would. In retrospect, how had you ever thought you could cleanly tear him off you? This is not like ripping off a bandage—quick and painful—no, this will be much, much more unpleasant than that. Yeonjun had done a delicate job of veiling just how wretchedly he loves you, but you’d seen peeks of it. Flickers and moments of potent neediness and jealousy, quickly smoothed over with something more groomed and palatable. Now, you see it in full force. As soon as given the need to unveil himself, he was not afraid to. As long as it brings him you. 

But he will not get you. You’re not yet so foolish to go falling back into his arms. Not after you’d done just that, and then learned what trusting him just based off his inability to lie meant. It’s not as if you’re not already slowly wanting to forgive him for the fact that his initial job was to kill you. In weak moments, you construct excuses. But if you brush off lie after lie, where is the limit to the lies you’ll accept, if only just for him? There would be none. That is a dangerous beast to toe.  

You think you know now, why Taehyun lets you read those letters freely.  

  ❆

Lifting your fist to knock on the door, you bounce on your heels. Taehyun tells you to come in, voice muffled behind the door. 

Stepping in, you drink in the sight of his quarters. Not once in the months that you’ve spent here have you been in his room. In the center is the bed, bedding coal black. His desk is cluttered with maps and stray daggers. Taehyun works on the strap to his leather baldric, looking up to you.  

“Where are you going?” you ask him.  

“They called me for council,” Taehyun answers. He straightens up. “What’s up?” 

You purse your lips. “Oh,” you say. “Nothing. I was just seeing what you were up to.” 

Honestly, you’re not entirely sure why you’d stumbled in here. It had just felt right in that moment. It couldn’t hurt to try and mend the tensions that lay between you two, anyway. If this is going to be your home, it’s better off that way. 

Taehyun nods slowly, as if he’s not entirely sure what to say. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

A smile tugs at your mouth. Beneath the confident, hardened exterior, Taehyun is stiff in the face of emotional connection. “Didn’t want me to join you for this one?” 

He shakes his head, the lines in his shoulders stiffening as if the thought were offensive. 

Scoffing around a laugh, you say, “I didn’t do that bad, did I?” It’s more to pester him than offense—you’d had your fill. And you want to know what’s changed; why he’s suddenly averse to you joining.  

Jaw shifting, he says, “No, you didn’t.” Taehyun brings his hand up and adjusts his collar. “I’d just prefer it.” 

You change tack. His face has fallen a bit, and you’d intended to lighten things up. “It’s fine. That was boring anyway,” you say, “Besides, I’d prefer it here, with the army of servants waiting to see to my needs.” Tilting your head to one side, you give him a grin chock-full of mock pretension. 

His brow furrows. “The servants? Do you not like it?” 

Shrugging, you answer, “I don’t hate it. It’s nice to have help getting ready, though, I guess. Makes me feel special.” To quell your own gnawing curiosity that’s been festering beginning the moment the first one had arrived, you add, “Why’d you do it, though?” 

His face flickers. “The estate needs to be run. They have duty to do so. If it were going to be anybody, it’s them.” 

You know that look. Living with Taehyun, you’ve got to become fluent in the face and even the most subtle changes. What he doesn’t speak in words, you’re forced to find there. Try as he might to fortify his mask, water will always find and slip through the cracks as slivers of true emotion crack through his face. He’s not telling you the truth. You narrow your eyes. 

“Yeah. I understand that. I just thought we were doing fine before, I guess.” 

“I thought...” he says. “Did the prince not keep servants?” 

Your frown deepens. Why would it matter whether or not Yeonjun has servants? Of course he’d have attendants; he’s a prince of Faerie. Mind churning for a moment, you stumble upon a thought. Or rather, it stumbles upon you. 

Taehyun had brought servants here because he figured that, because of your time with Yeonjun, you’d want that. It bothered him to think that Yeonjun could provide something for you that he couldn’t. He’d gone out and tracked down faeries indebted to him and his father because that got under his skin. You think to that morning he’d woken you up, spitting venom, because Yeonjun had sent you those dresses. And in his arm, he’d held a single crystalline gown. 

“Taehyun, why did you tell Yeonjun about our kiss?” 

For a split second, he’s taken aback, shifting as though you’d lit a fire under his feet. The air hangs heavy—so, so thick. It’s so stiff that you have to breathe with conscious effort. This silence, tense and on the brink of snapping, stretches for an eternity. Your mind reels; you’re just as caught off guard as him. You haven’t the faintest clue where you’d trudged up the nerve, but you had, and now you’re terribly curious to know his answer. The memory had hovered around, blazing and impossible to brush off, from the very moment the words had tumbled out from Yeonjun’s lips. How had you even lasted this long, pretending it hadn’t happened? All off that electric curiosity comes to a head here—now—and you do not know if you’ve prepared well enough for the truth of it. 

As silent as it is, the moment buzzes. It’s deafeningly loud, just as it is deafeningly quiet. His silence answers just as well as words.  

His answer slices the air, cutting through the tension like a scalding knife. “The prince told you that?” 

You step toward him, looking up at him through your lashes. “He did," you say, quick and dismissive. “Why did you tell him? When?” 

A flash—a flash of something untamed and deep like the woods—renders his eyes dark. You remember that look; he’d scarcely let you see it. It had scrawled under your skin the first time he had. Something in it strips you down to your very bones, where you are nothing more than buzzing soul and heat. Taehyun approaches you in dark, languid steps. You’re lightheaded, breaths lodged deep in your chest. Any semblance of clarity you might have had becomes a lost cause as he takes your face in his hands and leaves you no other option than to meet those smoldering eyes. Bitterly cold hands bite into the soft skin of your cheeks. Cold-blooded. 

Your head spins. “Taehyun?” you say, short and breathless. Even just a naked whisper of his name, you struggled to manage it. Him, here, in front of you, is both so real that it rattles you down to you core and so intangible that you wouldn’t dare believe it. And yet, blistering eyes pierce through the mist, and you know that it is sickeningly real.  

“Fuck,” he says, mouth turned down and at war with the rest of his face. He’s so close that you feel the word on your face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His throat bobs. “I don’t know who this is.” 

In a stumble of clumsy feet, you clash with the desk in a rattle. There’s hardly any perch for you, but in a scramble, you curl your fingers white-knuckled around the edge. He has you pinned between him and the wood with nowhere to breathe and nowhere to think. A controlled, shaky breath comes tumbling from behind your lips. Electricity crackles in the air between you, and you’re weak to it. You turn your head away, clawing for some semblance of control or respite from the bare intensity. 

Despite your shock, somewhere deep, deep down in your belly, you know that this is only the fruit of some howling storm that has been swirling—swirling and churning and gaining power. You’d felt the trembling of it, the promise of something explosive and imminent, as oblivious as you were to its source. Now, the ground cracks open beneath you, and it will accept nothing other than to swallow you whole. 

“Do you not think of me as a man?” he grits out. Since you’ve decided to blatantly avoid his gaze, he gets down right into your neck. “Well, I am. And you brought him here. Brought him into my home, and you let him touch you. ” 

Taehyun had been there that day.  

It’s as if time itself slows down around you. This moment inflates into something infinite. Everything that he’d done, every little thing that you’d struggled to digest, is laid out before you. He’s holding your hips as if you’ll fade around the edges and leave him here. There’s something raw beneath the growled words; something desperate. 

Belly flipping ruthlessly, you speak, but they’re not coherent thoughts. “I... didn’t think that...” 

He’s quick to cut you off, rearing back to look you in the eyes once more, forcing you to do the same. And he holds you there. “Do you think that he can provide for you better than me? That I can’t provide you your needs?” 

Your heart is a ravenous, wild thing in your chest. All that he’d done: the dress, the servants, finding Beomgyu, staying here in the north, demanding that you don’t depend or even associate with Yeonjun, urging you to not attend Court because he knew Yeonjun would be there—was because it was supposed to be him. And it was killing him because finally something had managed to drive right through that suit of ice armor he struggles so hard to keep up, right down to where his real emotions slumber, and he is forced to feel something. In all that banishing emotion away, he’s now faced with this blazing consumption, and he is utterly lost. 

Taehyun curses, a relenting of his will, before he’s taking your lips to his. It’s a ravaging, fervent meeting, clashing teeth and roaming hands with no destination. He lifts you up onto the desk, and then his hand finds the hair at the very back of your head. You remember this wild dance of tongue and mouth—the first time he’d put his mouth on you, it’d been just the same. You’re gasping and clawing at his shoulders.  

What on earth are you doing? 

His hands are all over you. It’s as if he can’t get enough, as if he’s catching up to all that had been bursting at the seams in his mind. His lips taste like finally. When he’s forced to release your lips for air, it’s not as if he gives you any real room to breathe—his lips fall like glowing ashes down the column of your neck. You’re helpless to the whines he takes from your lips. He melds your bodies into one clumsy thing, pushing you down into the desk in a clumsy clatter. He wholly overwhelms you, and you think that it is a conscious effort. He intends to wiggle his way into every little corner, every little space, until you have no room for thought but him. If the drunken haze that’s rendered your thoughts sluggish is anything to speak of his efforts, he’s succeeded. 

You catch yourself halfway down, before your back makes it down onto the desk. His mouth is back on yours, spinning with the sting of your scalp as he guides you through his kiss. His hands reach your upper thigh, making slow work of bunching the fabric. 

“If you knew,” he says, appreciating the bare skin as if it were as precious as jewel and gold the same way he had that night in your bed: as if every inch were just as intimate as a glimpse of your cunt. “If you knew what I think about doing to you.”  

Blood roars beneath your skin. The confession that Taehyun has thought about touching you like this, or the fact that he’s been battling against his own mind in the onslaught of those thoughts, sheds a new light over so much. Beneath that stony face, he’d been needing you.  

Through the licking of your bottom lip and the buzzing behind your skull, you see Yeonjun’s face. Your stomach does a flip. You’re not supposed to feel guilty. You shouldn’t, but guilt slices like a molten dagger through the haze. How can you be here, doing this, when he’s out there aching for you? As far as you distance yourself from his sphere, you’re still reminded of who taught you your body now that another man touches you. You imagine how hurt he’d be if he saw you now. 

You rage against those thoughts. You owe no guilt to the man that had only ever approached you because you were his target. 

Taehyun’s gaze meets yours. You must’ve gone quiet, or maybe still. Perhaps it’s your eyes that gives it away, though, because he does not like what he finds in them. In a blink, he’s retracting back into his shell.  

“You’re thinking of him,” he spits. His voice is so caustic and venomous as it falls out that your skin burns. “Even while I’m touching you.” 

You want nothing more than to reach in and pull that fire and raw emotion back out. He pulls away. Your skin is painfully empty of his touch. Chest aching, you say, “Taehyun, wait. Please. I wasn’t.” The lie rolls off your tongue too easily, but you can’t stand the chill fallen over your form. 

His face is far off and distant, his jaw set tight. He runs a hand through his hair, made a mess with your touch, the action punctuated by a barbed laugh. 

He doesn’t even say anything more to you when he leaves the room. He just leaves. You sit for a few minutes, legs dangling and blood roaring.  

Taehyun has kept a lot beneath a jaded and aloof front, but it seems that even he has a tipping point.  

❆

“That reeks,” Beomgyu says. He’s sat on the basin, legs dangling down. 

The water embraces you in a delightful lukewarm that disarms your nerves and has you drowsy. “Soap?” you say with a subsequent rich snort. You scoot, bathwater lapping at the walls of the tub when you bring your knees to your chest. The round tub is big enough for you to sprawl out, but you prefer sitting right up against the wall. Only the suds and perfumed oils sitting in a thin, hazy film on top of the water protect your decency from Beomgyu’s eyes. With the servants insisting on helping you wash, though, you’ve become indifferent to bathing in front of others. It’s not as if you’ve got to worry about him leering, anyway. He doesn’t blink at your nakedness. You appreciate the company. “It smells clean. You know, so you don’t smell like straight mud.” 

“Mud is not such an offensive smell as that,” he says, nose crinkling. “You lather yourself in smells that are wholly unbelievable.” 

Laughing, you feign sending a spray of water droplets his way. “Well,” you muse, “We are not hewn from the same stone. We have to clean ourselves.” While your worldly body demands that you maintain hygiene with soap and water, the folk wash for leisure. You don’t bemoan it, though. It’s your reality—always will be—and you delight in coming out feeling fresh. “And your earthy... musk... is just as terrible to me as this is to you. So...” 

“Agree to disagree.” He sits still. Beomgyu is always eerily still—you’ve come to the realization that it’s because he doesn’t breathe. No rising or falling of his chest meant he could sit in absolute repose. You’re not entirely used to it, even now. How could anything be a living, talking being, without breath? There he sits, though.  

Echoes of your washing fill the room. You sigh. With each scrub, you imagine carving away both any dirtiness and any heavy thoughts. It doesn’t work, of course. You feel no less heavy. If only it were that easy. 

“Taehyun is general now,” you say, frown tugging at your face. “For the Queen.” Remembering it makes you feel impossibly heavier. It had been a secretive move, but still... He had become the one thing that has haunted him for you. His words yesterday said as much. You buzz at that memory, heart racing at just the memory. It had been a battle pretending your first kiss hadn’t happened, but this was different. Terribly different. 

You blink, trying to bring yourself together when Beomgyu says, huffing out a humorless laugh, “He is only his father’s son.” 

Sighing, you sink lower into the water. The kelpie wouldn’t be himself without some snide remark in Taehyun or his father’s expense. You know why he’d done it, now, but you’re awful and can’t help but consider what him being general might mean. Taehyun has a strict moral code; you don’t think he’ll go around killing in cold blood. Still, in order to retain his standing, he’ll have to carry out the council’s will. It’s a slippery slope; you fear the he’ll become the thing he’d once hated at your expense. With a sickened stomach, you hold your knees closer. You don’t want that. “He said it was to make sure we’re no longer targets. You know, since we came here as spies and all that,” you say, voice softening as thoughts grow louder. 

Agitated, Beomgyu slips off the basin. “Why would he have bothered with finding me, then, if he had already made other plans?” 

Spinning water with a finger and watching it swirl, you say, “I know for a fact it’s why he did it. It’s just that I don’t like it. I mean, getting involved in the war is one thing. We were already involved to some degree, anyway. Becoming the general is a whole other thing.” 

A wicked delight crackles across Beomgyu’s face, and you brace yourself for whatever has excited him so. “If you would deign it with your word... We could be gone from this estate. Anywhere that pleases us, free from the fool.” 

“Of course,” you say, rolling your eyes and watching him pace the floor. “It’s always dramatics with you. We’re not running away. Good try, though.” 

He pauses, grimacing down at you. You suppress a laugh. Maybe you could’ve entertained his grand plan. At least, for a moment. Your fingers have pruned up, but you have no will to drag yourself from the warmth. Let you just stay like this, cocooned in its welcoming arms, for a bit longer. Then, you’ll find it within you to face the memory of Taehyun’s hands and the gravity of what he’d let slip. 

❆

Dust motes flutter when caught in the light. You, with bare feet padding on the chilly morning floors, plow right through them. A clattering, so lively in the still sleep-ridden estate, floats out from the kitchens. You follow it. 

Beomgyu stands, lanky and strange as always, watching a servant work dutifully on a meal. You frown. It’s a bit early for any of your usual meals. 

“Hanging around in the kitchen? Thought you didn’t eat,” you say.  

He gives you a distracted grumble. “I can eat. I just don’t need to.” 

An eye roll slips. “That’s even worse. You asked for a meal to be made for you, just so that you can taste it,” you say, hand on your hip. “Very inconsiderate.” 

Disconcertment lines his face at that, looking back over at the servant. “I did not ask for a meal.” 

“Yeah... Okay. Anyway, do you know where Taehyun has gone? Out?” 

Beomgyu shakes his head. “No, I don’t believe he’s gone anywhere,” he says, eyeing you. “You’re searching for the Lord?” 

“I mean, I was just wondering where he is. I didn’t see him around, or anything.” 

“Oh, pull your stake from my heart,” he grumbles and scratches at his neck. “I fear you’ve abandoned me in my loathing, with who else am I to escape this place? ” he says.  

“There you go again,” you say, relenting to conversation. Conversation with Beomgyu makes you feel lighter. “If we ran away, we’d make it like... a week.” 

He cocks his head to the side. “You’d last a week. I’d be just fine.” 

“Oh, you think so?” you scoff. “And where would we go?” 

Now, he’s really riled up, throwing his arms up, exasperated. “To the forest,” he deadpans. “I... come from the forest. Of course I’d go to the forest.” 

Mouth pulled into a grin that you know will irk him, you say, “Sounds like a nice place. For you. You just want to get out of here, you don’t care about what happens to me. I’m hurt. This is supposed to be our escape plan, not Beomgyu’s.” 

He likes that, lips curling at the corners. “Well, I pride myself in my cleverness, and it’s not as though I’ll be leaving this rotten place by my own means,” Beomgyu says.  

“Oh, you’re just so clever.” You’ve become too familiar with that impish grin—he’s joking. But you don’t doubt for a second that if you were to propose running away, Beomgyu would be elated. He makes the jokes for a reason, anyway. It’s become a sort of game; him suggesting it, and you shutting it down. “And is that why you deign to bless me with your presence? Plotting and scheming?” 

“Don’t give me your sarcasm,” he huffs. “I deign you with my presence because I ought to. What else should I do?” 

“You love me,” you say, tableware and platters clattering and mingling with the sound of your voice. “I know it.” You drag out the last syllables in a taunting melody. 

 The servant who had been busy with making the breakfast, a hob you don’t really recognize, pokes in to tell you that it’s finished, so you move your conversation over to the table. Pulling out the chair, you eye the plates. It’s more extravagant than you usually eat here. It reminds you more of Court food or what few meals you’d had with Yeonjun: a honeyed meat and some fire-roasted burdock root. Beside it is a bowlful of salt, but it’s only by yours. You dip your head at the faerie, careful of course not to say thank you. That would mean that the faerie has done you a favor, and then you’d be expected to repay it. A simple gesture works just fine. 

Beomgyu doesn’t sit, nor does he take any interest in eating. Instead, he hovers at the far end of the long table, telling you, “I do not love anything.” 

Raising your brows at him, you say, “Whatever.” You salt the bitter root before forking it. “What are you so antsy for, anyway? Isn’t your whole thing that you sit around in a swamp for the entirety of your existence? What’s that, to staying in an estate for a bit? I think that you just like to complain to me.” 

He laughs, rocking on his heels. “It’s about free will,” he says, “And, maybe I do. Though, isn’t it a wonder that you complain to me just as much?” 

You’ve finished your plate. “Fair.” 

Taehyun emerges from a room. Your belly does a little surprised flip. You knew he was still here, but you’d hoped to avoid him. When you’d first arrived here, the estate had felt massive. Now, it’s not so much the same.  

 He doesn’t mention it, though. Instead, he surveys the table, and then his brows knit. “You’ve cooked?” 

“Not us. It was being made when I got up. There’s some for you, too, though. If you’re hungry.” 

His frown deepens, but he nods and wanders off into the kitchen. You understand. You’d been confused when you’d went into the kitchen to find a meal being made so early. It’s as if the servant is new and unfamiliar with schedules. Turning to Beomgyu, you say, “Anyway. Would sneaking out for one night appease you?” You push around the last bits of your breakfast, too full to eat anymore. “Maybe you just need to get the thrill out of your system. I have a tree by my window, that might up the ante rather than sneaking out the front door.” You give him a tongue-in-cheek raise of a brow. 

“Well, I don’t think it’s sneaking if you discuss it a room away from who you’re sneaking around,” he answers, picking at the wood of the table. “And, no.” 

At a crash, you both are whipping your heads toward the doorway. The hob servant is sprawled out on its knees. Taehyun’s face has gone cold, and he holds his sword out at the faerie in a point. Your eyes go wide, and you hop up out of your seat. “What are you doing?” you say, taking in the scene. Adrenaline sparkles in your pulse. One second, you’d been enjoying your morning, the next Taehyun has one of his servants at sword point. It’s whiplash.  

Despite your initial shock, though, you pull together the pieces—about the strangeness of the routine, and the unusual meal, and the unfamiliar faerie. You go to share a look with Beomgyu. In the narrow twitch of his eyes, you deduct that he’s come to the same conclusion. And, you’d eaten that whole meal.  

“Face me.” Taehyun barks out the command, looking down on the hob with a chilling severity. 

The faerie does slowly, bowing its head to avoid Taehyun’s face in an attempt to placate him. Taehyun says, “Who have you weaseled yourself into my estate for?” His voice carries, strong and unforgiving. It penetrates down to your marrow. You’re sure the hob feels it worse, though. There’s a long few moments with no answer. Either they won’t say it, or they can’t. They dip their head further. “If you think that your silence will earn you a quick death, it will not. Speak now, or give me your hand. I’ll have your fingers.” 

“Taehyun,” you say, shooting him a hard stare. “Are you serious?” Your stomach goes nauseous. You’ve seen Taehyun kill before, but a punishment like that, meant to inflict agony... It shocks you. 

Taehyun looks at you strangely, eyes at war with the rest of him. He says to you, keeping his sword on the hob, “Am I serious? You just ate all of that, who knows if it was poisoned.” Now stood behind the hob, he takes it by the scruff and lines the deadly edge of his sword up to its neck. 

Your heart does a little trick. You absolutely had eaten that food without question. Why would you question it? It hadn’t come to your mind at all that somebody might infiltrate this estate. With Taehyun’s new role, it only makes sense. You don’t feel bad, though. Not like when you had been poisoned at The Hovel. You’d felt that pretty fast and hard. Right now, you feel fine. As much relief as that brings you, it does beg the question: if they’d come here to do harm, why wouldn’t they utilize such a blaring opportunity? The hob had just... made you food. 

“I have every right to protect my home, and those who live in it.” Taehyun grabs harder, picking the hob up and pressing his sword in closer. The hob squeezes its narrow eyes shut. “It’s my duty.” 

It’s always duty, with Taehyun. The sight of the faerie bracing, knowing that Taehyun will hurt or kill it, worms under your skin. Your fingers strain in trembling fist. You can’t handle the awful sight, no matter if the faerie had intended to harm you. 

You think you know who’d sent the hob to come and be eyes on the inside of Taehyun’s estate, anyway. 

Beomgyu scoffs hoarsely from beside you. “I watched the fool make it. She’s not fallen sick, had she?” His bored eyes shine with distaste. "You, general, just miss the taste of blood on your tongue. You miss it dearly, I know. It’s a terrible hunger to have.” He exchanges the word Lord with one that you can acknowledge hits as a much lower blow, considering his past. Beomgyu would never miss the opportunity to remind Taehyun that from which he comes from. To that regard, you are thankful for not knowing who your parents are. No matter where you end up, at least you’ve had the power to mold your own legacy. Taehyun’s follows him, grim and stained red.  

“Taehyun, can’t you just make an exception this once? Beomgyu’s right. If they’d have wanted us hurt, they had a pretty good opportunity to. But, they didn’t.” You flex your fingers hoping to expel some nerves and step closer to where he’s stood. Making a point to catch his eyes and hold them hostage, you add, “We’d be hypocrites to kill for spying. You know that. Who are we, to call it justice and kill over this? That’s not fair.” 

He holds your eyes, pausing. “Exceptions are dangerous,” he says, but his voice is changed. There’s something other than ice-cold resolution there. You release a breath of tension.  

“I get that, but...” You search his face. “Please.” 

The estate is quiet aside from the huffing of the hob for a second. The look in Taehyun’s face changes, and then he’s throwing the faerie to the ground. He sheathes his sword with a crisp click that you’ve never been more elated to hear, and he snaps, “Get out. Go. Tell whoever the hell sent you here that I won’t take so kindly to this again.” 

The hob does not waste even a second in making good on their second chance. It scrambles up and away in a scramble of furious legs and arms. 

Beomgyu shakes his head and goes to retreat off to wherever he spends a majority of his time, now that the show is over.  

Taehyun, looking disconcerted with his arms folded and brows lifted, says, “Somebody is sending their people here, and now I’ve set a precedent. I look weak. Those wolves will pounce on any stretch of weakness they can find.” 

You sigh. “I know,” you say. “I know, Taehyun. Thank you.” You don’t tell him that the wolf he speaks of is Yeonjun, and that the spy was not here to kill or collect intellect from him.  

It seems that the prince has made his move. 

❆

“You think that was the end of it?” Beomgyu says. “No. That was nothing beyond a glimpse. A life spent beside his blood-drinking father is undeniable. How the gentry kids learn Court snark, the Lord learned to take butchery as a trophy.” 

Shooting him a glare, you slot the arrow in its home and pull the bowstring taut. It comes much easier, now. Your chest doesn’t tremble, and you can properly hold it there comfortably enough to actually aim. Finding the bullseye of woven straw, you narrow your eyes down. You find the center of the spiral, further down the field now that you’ve gotten a better handle on your archery. Like Taehyun had said, you aim a little left to make room for wind direction. You release a slow breath in a smooth, silver stream of breath. Wind whistles around the arrow as it dances down the flat of powdery snow. It pierces the center left with a far-off thud. Not a bullseye, but you’re glad to meet your mark.  

You reach for another arrow. “Or,” you say, “Growing up with his father taught him to be a better man for it.” 

The kelpie, having watched you practice out here for at least thirty minutes, looks up to you from where he sits squatted on the ground. “You don’t believe that,” he scoffs. He drags a finger in the snow. The ground around him is a work of muddy shapes, where he’s worked the snow so much that the wet ground beneath it has begun turning it to brown slush. “The brute is no different. Ardently as he may detest the former general, he has followed his tracks in the snow. Reluctance makes him no better.” 

Cupping your hands over your mouth, you puff out warm breaths that soothe your stinging nose and stiff fingers. It lasts only a small, gratifying moment. You puff out a sigh and take the bow back into your hands. You thought you’d gotten over this conversation, decided to determine for yourself what kind of man Taehyun is, but... When he took up his role as general, you were set back an infuriating mile. Things are even muddier, now. You know he has a reputation to keep up as general, and that he made an exception for you in letting that spy go. If he doesn’t present a strong front, it’ll put you all in danger. That doesn’t stop abrasive thoughts from sticking under your skin, though.  

“Don’t even try and act like you care about violence,” you tell him, giving him a high brow. “It’s not as if you don’t trick people and drag them down into your swamp for your own enjoyment. You just dislike Taehyun.” You bring back the string and let another arrow go. It lands somewhere near the first.  

He doesn’t deny that, a rotten smile splitting across his face.  

Your next shot lands beside the bullseye. Letting out a triumphant sound, you say, “Did you see that?” 

Beomgyu hums. “That one was good.” He stands up to full height with creaking bones and adds, “But, aren’t you getting bored of this? I say we find something more interesting to waste precious time with.” 

You frown. “More interesting...” 

He nods, enthused.  

“That sounds like a terrible idea, coming from you. Interesting is subjective, and I don’t think I’d like to learn your interpretation of it,” you say, voice sewn with suspicion. You lean your bow against the tree, though. Hitting so close to the center was enough gratification to appease you for the day. “And how can I be sure that this isn’t part of an escape plan?” 

He groans. “Let me play some, won’t you? I have a place that will please the both of us.” 

You feign long consideration, but you’ve already decided. As cold as you are, and despite your weary arms, you’re jumping at the opportunity to escape the strong walls of the estate. You’ve got a funny tingling in your veins that pleads with you to go and do something. Wherever Beomgyu may take you, you’ll just appreciate the distraction from muddled thoughts and recycling anxieties. You nod finally. “Fine. Don’t bring me anywhere weird, kelpie.” 

Though, you never know what you’re getting into, with Beomgyu. 

❆

Well, the dusted walls of a once-great residence around you are not the worst you imagined when thinking where Beomgyu might take you. 

“You told I’d me be pleased,” you say, voice bouncing off the walls and coming back to you hollow. It was the residence of some gone gentry folk, you know. Why that would be of any interest to you, you’re not sure. It’s pretty, sure. You’d fought snow and numb fingers to get here, though. You frown at him expectantly. 

“You have a sorry amount of trust in me. You would be, if you’d just open your eyes to it,” he cuts back.  

You hum. “Sure.” Raking your eyes over the baseboards, brown wood carved into leaves and acorns, and then down the still halls, you make an effort to see anything differently. Of course, it does nothing. Beomgyu speaks strangely, and he hadn’t actually meant to look differently. Despite your conclusion, you still see a stale and forgotten place. You cross your arms over your chest and say, “I get it. This was just an escape plan. And I’m gonna get your ass. Do you know how far of a that walk was?” 

“This would be a nice to stay, if we were to forget a certain Lord’s estate...” he muses, tilting his head off to one side. “But no.” 

Looking around, your eyes catch on the film of dust on the floor down the hallway that shoots off from the tall dining hall that you stand in. More specifically, you’re concerned with the set of footsteps leading down it. Your feet tell you to dart. “Beomgyu?” you say, eyes wide as you look over to him. “Who’s here?” 

“Should we go find out?” he says, thick set of brows jumping in a playful twitch. 

He sets off down the hallway. You follow, internalizing the new surroundings with large drinks. You’re not sure why you ever thought this would end with him taking you out to the forest to watch will-o'-the-wisps dance in twinkling balls of light, or going to watch a babbling brook work its way over the earth. 

A tall man steps out from a room. You jump, pulling Beomgyu back, as if he weren’t some ancient faerie beast capable of managing himself. He cracks a laugh. The man looks between you two. Your tongue darts out to wet dry lips. He’s no doubt wondering who you are, just the same as you’re wondering who he is. You whisper to your cavorting heart that Beomgyu is magically compelled to not shove you into harm’s way, and it seems that he knows who this is. 

You notice the man’s round ears, and his soft and humble features, and the earthliness, and the imperfection-flecked skin. Familiarity bursts in your chest—you’re looking into the face of another human. “Who is this?” you whisper over to Beomgyu. 

“This is Soobin,” he announces, answering your whisperings with his full chest. “A friend, and a human, as I think you’ve noticed.” A proud gleam flashes over his eyes. “I believe that you owe me your thanks now.” 

The man, Soobin, dips his head at you. Dull, brown eyes study you. “I am,” he says. 

Searching for words, you open and close your mouth a few times. A nervous thrill wraps you up. You’ve wanted to get to know and be friends with your kind for your entire life. “Why are you here?” you ask, making a gesture at the residence. “It looks abandoned. Very abandoned.” When you’d first arrived at Taehyun’s estate, it’d been left alone for quite a while in Taehyun’s leaving it behind. This, though, looks much different than that. You wonder who this place belonged to, and why it’s no longer in use. 

Sullen eyes answer yours. They remind you of Beomgyu’s, the old tiredness. It’s strange, seeing that look reflected on such a young face. How does Beomgyu known him, anyway? Soobin answers, “I was a glamoured servant here. Until the faerie died.” He continues talking as he returns to the room from which he’d come from. This room, off and away from the massive inner hall that makes up the majority of the residence, is fresher. Where dust balls and had taken over what was once most definitely a place busy with servants and the host of many feasts, this room is alive and no doubt where Soobin lives. “Then, the glamour died, and I came back to myself.” He sits down onto a foot bench in front of a green-sheeted bed. This must’ve been bedroom for the faerie he’d served. Now, it’s his. He brings his hands up. Where the soft skin of an easy life should sit, there’s worn and ruined skin in its place. “I wasn’t conscious when I’d been working it, but when I came back... my body ached. It ached so bad, and at first, I had no idea why or... where I was. All I knew was that I’d been worked into the ground.” 

Your heart hangs like stone in your chest, looking at his broken hands. When you’d been taken from the human world, you’d been so young that it made no difference to you. Growing up here, it’s all you’ve ever known. Not every human is brought here how you had been, though. Some are snatched up from their adult lives; fallen to some faerie trick hidden in plain sight. Slip up, and you’re stolen away to come do work in this wretched realm. You don’t know what’s worse: what happened to you, being raised here and molded into a meaningless servant, or that. The faerie had stolen time from his life that he will never get back—and he remembers none of it. Glamoured servants had always stricken a gut-wrenching sick feeling in you, whenever you’d seen them. With gone eyes and hollowed out cheeks, they’d look right through you like mist and continue on with their prescribed duties. Like a husk of a living being. 

Even now, Soobin’s body tells the story of the taxation. This faerie must’ve seen humans as cattle. “Why stay here?” you ask, making a seat out of a sofa along the wall. The cushions accept your shape graciously; made affable by time and use. Beomgyu trades the cushioned seat for the floor in front of your crisscrossed legs. He lolls his head back, coarse hair tickling at your skin. 

Beomgyu answers. “Because he has no place else to go, and his awful stubbornness keeps him here. There are no rides back to the human world, if you’re not willing to give something away for it.” 

Soobin, looking more annoyed than genuinely angry with Beomgyu’s words, says, “I’m not going to give your kind any more of me than I was already forced to. I’ll find a way. Eventually.” 

Eventually. The word is heavy coming out from his mouth, falling out like a dud; not even he believes it. “How long have you been here?” 

“I... don’t know.” He shifts, watching the flooring rather than looking at the two of you as he speaks. “Since I was taken here? I have no idea. I don’t remember a lick of it. But from what I do remember, long. Centuries, maybe.” 

Your fingers, raking paths through the tangles in Beomgyu’s hair, freeze. Looking up at him, you tilt your head. It sounds like it should be a hyperbole, an overdramatization to describe what feels like an eternity spent here in this old place. But he doesn’t deliver it as such. No, his voice doesn’t joke at all—his eyes stare hard and lack the light of life. “What?” you say. Your voice crackles with a confused flare. “What do you mean, centuries?” 

“He means that he’s been making this his home for centuries,” Beomgyu says. 

“No,” you say, willing your glare to burn holes through the back of his head below you. Of course, he doesn’t stir or notice at all. “I mean, that’s not possible. We don’t live that long.” Nonetheless, he looks no older than you. Anything above twenty years is no less unbelievable than centuries.  

“You don’t?” Beomgyu says. You hear the patronizing smile through his words. “I have known him long. And yet, he lives... How strange is that?” 

You deliver a punishing shove at the back of his head. “You know what I meant, idiot.” 

Simpering, he says back to you from over his shoulder, “You’re not so much the sweet girl I remember meeting. Spend enough of your time here, and even the human’s body slows. The makeup of his human flesh has not aged for quite some time. Neither will yours.” 

A lifetime spent dreading how fast your life will dwindle away comes crashing down over you. You blink hard at the impact. You’d been haunted; followed around by the dark and heavy promise of a soon death, of deteriorating joints and a forgettable name. That had all been in vain? The enormity of that realization... it comes overhead like dark and swirling water, sucking you down where no amount of kicking or thrashing will clear a way. It swallows you. A bitter anger kindles down in the depths from which that fear had nestled itself. So, Nut-hatch had made the very conscious decision to lead you to believe otherwise. 

“You’ve reached maturity, and you will stay this way for until you leave Faerie. The years will begin coming to you, as long as you remain there; where time flows differently through the veins,” Beomgyu continues. “He only wishes to spend his blessing of time decaying away here.” 

The two of them begin talking back and forth about whatever it is that Beomgyu says, but a loud silence like fog in your head has their words more like background noise. You’d lived for so, so long thinking that you were running out of time. The tick of a terrible clock sounded off in the distance in a haunting echo in everything you ever did. It’s why you ever rallied the nerve to up and leave the life you’d been dragged into. You’d been so scared of wasting what little life you had—fear welled up high and told you that time was running out to do it. Would you have ever even left, if you’d not thought yourself so rushed? Your face feels hot. 

Soobin saying your name, loud and questioning, draws you out just enough to hear him say, “How did you get tricked?” 

You swallow and clear your throat, sitting up straighter. “What do you mean?” you ask, mental inertia coloring your words lost. “Tricked?” Doing a re-survey of the room, you stop on the windows. Day has begun weaning off into the gray of eventide.  

“How did you end up as a servant, I mean,” he elaborates. 

“Oh,” you say, nodding your understanding. “Sorry, I got distracted. I was taken when I was little, so I didn’t get tricked, or anything.” Nut-hatch didn’t have to trick you to bring you here like most faeries do when taking humans from their world, because you had no will. It’s the loophole in their governing nature; though they might not be able to just take humans without a promise or debt or something of that sort, they can take away the newly born. As long as they leave behind what they believe to be a replacement as payment. 

“You’re a changeling,” he says, as if realizing out loud. His eyes meet yours, dead and gone and bitter. “You should’ve killed that faerie. They all deserve it.” 

The acidic rancor there has you balking. Kill Nut-hatch? You may still harbor resentment—deep, deep gnarly gashes and crevices that you’d had to fill, and it just so happens that enmity did the job well. You understand his anger, but the thought of killing your stealer for self-gratifying revenge doesn’t make you feel good. Not in the way he suggests it should. In a sick way that only a child with a cavity in their chest where the love for a parent should be could manage, you consumed her role as your owner and digested it down into something you could cling on to. And, with chubby little desperate hands, you had. Perhaps she would spit in your face if you were to return to her now—because you’d failed to fulfill your purpose for her—you could not fathom hurting her. You pull back the sour face twitching at your muscles and say, “How do you feel about that, Beomgyu? I thought you were friends.” 

He shakes his head. “If you make senseless bets, you’re already the fool. You can’t act so surprised when you’re then asked to put on the fool’s hat and to dance,” he says, pointed derision like an arrow at Soobin.  

Whatever that means. The folk speak with adages and idioms, but Beomgyu’s verbiage is infested with it.  You scuffle down your laugh when Soobin does not share your humor. 

“How was I supposed to have thought I’d be making a bet with a faerie? Nobody even knows this shit is real, there. It’s all just folklore and scary stories. It’s not fair ground if I didn’t even know that I was doing it. And now, here I am: everybody I ever knew and loved is long, long dead.” 

His words are seething with hatred, and yet they’re barren. It’s carved him up inside, dug him out into a shell with only this awfulness left. It shakes you a bit. You’d been so eager to find another human to know or to bond with. This, though... Your brain feels rattled around in your skull. You hope to never become this.  

“So, no. We are not friends,” Soobin says. “He only comes here to enjoy my misfortune, and our kind live with the need for interaction. I tolerate it, I guess.” 

You husk out a laugh that doesn’t find your eyes. “Well, that’s not very nice, Beomgyu,” you say, stressing his name with false reprimand. “He enjoys my suffering too,” you tell Soobin. You nudge Beomgyu with your dangling leg, trying to drag the nonplussed kelpie back into the conversation to save you. 

“Of course, he does. It’s why they take us from our world: our pain is no more than like playing with a beetle to watch it struggle, and then killing it when it’s no longer fun. We’re bugs. Or, dirt. I’m sure you’ve heard that before. They love to tell us that.” 

You have. That memory is one that you prefer shoved down and compact where you can’t let it remind you what your designated role really is. You’ve been so good about ignoring it, too. With a quick glance to the windows and the dark that’s fallen outside, you say, “I think we need to go, Beomgyu. We didn’t bring any lights...” 

The kelpie drags himself up from the ground and away from the room without any sharing of pleasantries. You offer Soobin a quick goodbye and are next out of the room, feet moving like the wood flooring has gone to hot coals. 

Even in the round edges of a human face, you had not found the resonance that you’ve longed so hard for. Humans have the capacity for unshaking violence and vacant souls too, it seems. Perhaps it was never that you were looking for a human to see yourself reflected in—you’d just bloomed cloudy hopes of finding eyes that will see you clearly and deeply. Those hopes had been misplaced. 

 But, if not in another human, then who? 

❆

It’s utterly black outside—a moonless night. Kicking your restless legs out from your blankets, you stumble down the stairs. 

You can’t find sleep, even behind closed eyes. Behind your eyelids, you see Yeonjun’s storm-clouded face and you taste Taehyun on your mouth. You’re harassed by guilt cruelly, and feel the weight of your conversation with Soobin deep in your chest.  

How you end up at Taehyun’s door once again, you’re not sure. It’s a wholly inappropriate hour of the night, and you ought to have learned your lesson the last time you’d found yourself here. You don’t know why your sleepy legs lead you here. You’re better off plaguing Beomgyu with your restlessness instead. Why you’re stood here before this door... It’s beyond you. 

Though, you’ve been desperately unable to shove down the urge to stick your toes in the water and see just how icy they are. He’s pointedly avoided you, and you have no grasp on where you two are going after this. An innate feeling, settled heavy like stone in your chest, tells you that everything has changed. 

Once you’ve knocked and cracked the door open, though, a nervous tide creeps up on you. You should pivot and be back to your room. You would, if you were smart, but as Taehyun sits up with a mess of dark hair and sleep-dusted cheeks, you’re compelled by something other than your mind. It’s something strangely human, waking up in a groggy haze. The sight of sleepiness on the ever-composed Taehyun is jarring. It’s gone in only a blink, though, as he shakes it away. 

“Is something wrong?” he says. He may have brushed away the fog in his brain, but he’s powerless to the husk still weighing his voice down. It sends a strange thrill through you.  

You shake your head, throat dry. 

He frowns. “You’re having dreams again?” 

The gentle question has you pausing. It’s so out and away—so far beyond what you expect from him. Taehyun has never been one to ask around about how you’re feeling. He’d much rather skirt around such things, and pretend them away. Emotional nuance is a lost cause on him. Or, that’s what you’d thought, anyway. What’s changed? “No,” you tell him, pursing your lips. “I just... wanted to talk to you.” 

Taehyun sits more fully upright. “About what?” he says. You don’t miss how his shoulders straighten and stiffen. 

On bare feet, you shuffle over to his bed. “Nothing,” you tell him. You hadn’t exactly planned on coming here. Of course, he thinks you’ve come here to address what had happened. But... that’s not why you came here. At least, you think it isn’t. You don’t know. “Can I sit?” You gesture at the foot of his bed. He nods, eyes trained right on you. Pressing one knee into the coverlets, you climb in. 

The buzzing and hum of wind dance in the air between you. You’re not sure what to say; it’s so heavy with every single thing. It’s hard to keep things light with him, when even the silence is painted with intensity.  

You settle with just saying, “I couldn’t sleep.” 

He licks his lips, nodding. “I’d only just fallen asleep,” he says. “Always something to think about.” 

You can relate to that. The melody of a serene, content mind seems like a distant memory. “Sorry,” you say. You hadn’t meant to ruin his rest. Rigidity intrudes on the flow of conversation. You don’t remember ever being this awkward. 

He dismisses that with a shake of his head. “I’ll manage,” he says. “When I came back yesterday, you and the kelpie weren’t here. Where did you go?” 

This is exactly what had been keeping your mind awake. You had wanted to think of anything but that, but maybe talking to somebody about it will be nice. “Beomgyu took me somewhere,” you say. You laugh softly as he makes a face. “Yeah, I know. It was some old, run-down place. And there was this human there.” 

You pause, filtering through the memory. Taehyun doesn’t speak, his eyes watching you with an attentive slowness. He’s just listening. Continuing, you say, “It was weird, because... Well, we were talking, and... He was nice. It was nice, talking to another human and seeing my features on him.” 

You give a passing glance over at his ears. 

“And Beomgyu is a jerk, but I don’t think I learned that yesterday,” you say. You ramble, perhaps filling the space where the uncomfortable memory sits before you can let it bother you. It doesn’t help that the air is so quiet. Your mouth moves quick to make it less so. “But... this guy. He’s centuries old, and just lives inside that place. I’d been so excited to have someone who could understand me like that, but then he started saying stuff that made me feel... just, bad for him, I guess. He was so angry and bitter.” 

Taehyun watches you speak, and then nods. Tinged with his sleepy husk, he says, “Not everybody stays good when they live for so long. He let it rot him.” 

“Yeah. It was really like he was rotted. Not bad, I guess,” you say. “It made me worry that I’ll end up that way, someday. Even though we came here differently, I still feel that sort of anger sometimes. I don’t like it, though.” 

“I don’t think you will,” he says. 

His voice feels so strangely soft. You don’t know how to respond to this, coming from him. Long, quiet beats only decorated by the crackling of bushes scraping up and down the windows, fall over you two again. Your gazes intertwine, dancing together in a way that is also different. “Thank you,” you tell him, your voice meek. “I hope that’s true.” 

The longer you’re sat there in Taehyun’s bed, the plush warmth of it and his presence serving as some sort of scarecrow for your pestering thoughts, your eyes grow heavier and your words more useless. Here, in his room and in his presence, it’s as if those thoughts and their terrible claws cannot reach you. You prattle on to him about sleepy nothings, but he doesn’t seem to mind that you’re stealing his sleep from him. He only listens, eyes watching you melt down into something softer on the surface of his bed. 

❆

When you’d woken up this morning, you’d popped up in a frantic flurry. Instead of on your own bed, your dreary eyes were met with the walls of Taehyun’s room. You had fallen asleep in Taehyun’s bed; talked yourself into a solid sleep. You had been so thankful that he was not there when you’d been drug from your slumber by the feel of foreign bedsheets on your skin. 

Even thinking about it now, your ears glow red. Had he been annoyed? You frantically shove those thoughts away. 

There’s a thump from outside. You lean over from your spot on the bed and try to get the best look out you can manage, but it’s at an angle. You see nothing but winter’s flurries there.  

Your head drops back down to the threadbare fabric in hand. Beomgyu, after a long-winded back and forth, had relented to letting you patch up his clothes. Well, just his shirt. When he’d handed it over to you, it had been a valiant internal battle to not run off and drown the thing in soaped water. For now, you settle for just patching up the mangiest bits. It gives you something to be busy with. 

Taehyun has been especially busy lately. You’re not sure why; he doesn’t exactly go around singing about his stresses.  

This time, there’s three resounding and deliberate knocks at the pane of your window. Your working fingers come to a stop, head popping up. A nervous rattle thrums up and down your spine. It could have been a straying tree branch knocking a song with the wind’s encouragement, but they’d been so sure and pronounced. You let the shirt down and slip off the bed. Keeping your approach down to whisper, you creep toward the window. 

Yeonjun, nose gone pink, sits on a sturdy branch. 

For a moment, you stand there taking in the sight of him there; a prince of Faerie, crouched up and in a tangle of branches as he waits for you. It’s absurd. Not only that, it’s dreadful. You’ve done well, tearing yourself away from him. So, so well. Recently, all that hurt has painted its face and made itself anger. At the sight of his face, it sparks in your chest. But it’s a dull, slow flame, oh so reluctant. This anger feels different than other angers. It bothers you so deeply that you can’t place a finger on why. 

And you want to let that anger sit there and fester, hoping that it will work at eroding away your still-connected heartstrings like rot. Even through the glass of the window, you feel them—red and reinforced and tugging you toward him. 

It’s ridiculous. This is ridiculous and pathetic, letting him send you fragmented just with this. You’ve become the sort of girl that you’d snort over in sappy lover’s ballads and odes, the kind that you’d looked down on for their lack of spine. How different it is, when it comes to your turn. Despite it all, you reach out and push the windows open. Even with the sputtering flame you foster, he’s frozen and does not look like he’s going to give up just at this. If you were to pretend he wasn’t there and flop back down into the bed, you think that he might sit there brazen and let the ice freeze him from the inside out. Or, he’ll find some other way to speak with you. The glint in his eyes, the only light reflected in flatness, tells you as much. 

“This isn’t cute, or... romantic, like you think it is, Yeonjun. Not like last time. It’s just hurtful,” you tell him. 

Breath like smoke, Yeonjun says, “I don’t mean to hurt you. It kills me that I do.” His voice is sweet and smooth like malt liquor. It grips your mind in dazzling claws. 

You shake your head, staying a reasonable distance from him and the window. “You’re not supposed to be here. You have to go,” you tell him, pulling the leash to the collar you’ve put on yourself taut. “It’s icy. Climb down safe, please.” 

Of course, that doesn’t budge him. “Not supposed to be here? Why, because you don’t want it, or because he’ll be angry at you?” he says. His pretty face has gone sour. “Look at you. You’ve lost so much weight. He’s not taking care of you, pretty. Come home to me. I know you know where it is; I see the look on your face. I know that you lie to me with your words, but you were never good at hiding your face.” 

You stay rooted to your spot; you won’t be so weak to words again. No matter how sweet and soft they feel against your shining, weeping wounds. He put that hurt there. Leaning into it would just be self-destructive. 

“Please. It hurts both of us to be away, so why do it? I know that I’ve hurt you, and I’ll spend every last of my waking breath letting you know that it was a mistake. I’ll leave it all behind—none of it matters,” he continues. “Make me your servant. Ask me to swear my life away to you, and I’ll drop to my knees and put it on my beating heart right now.”  

Your throat feels dry. He’d swear himself in your service, give you the ability to control him as you will. It’s an unfathomably massive show of trust and dedication. You don’t want that, though. Not one bit. His frantic professions punch you in the gut nonetheless. Had you been losing weight? You haven’t even noticed. Yeonjun did, though—at a glance, he’d known you’ve been hurting.  

“Yeonjun, please. You’re not making this easy for me. Just give it time; we’ll get over it. Eventually, we’ll forget each other,” you say, jaw aching with protest at each heavy word. Now faced with the reality of a much, much longer life, your own words bite you. It means, though, that you have so much time to build yourself up into something solid and beautiful. And, somewhere down the road, you’ll think of this and be unaffected. Won’t that day come any sooner, though? 

“Forget each other?” he says, laugh like poison. “No, we won’t forget each other. Time doesn’t fix it. I promise you that I know that all too well. Our love is not the kind you can forget. It will just hurt forever.” 

“Go on,” you say. “Lie to me again. I want to hear it.” 

Eyes shining and unable to lie, he says, “I love you.” 

Swallowing thickly, you back away and get ready to close the window.  

He climbs in through the window in a quick move. You don’t even have time to protest it before he’s saying, “Ask anything of me. Any last thing that you want of me, but do not ask me to watch you in his arms. I will not.” 

There it is again—that dread. You want it to go easy, but of course it never was going to. “Stop it,” you say, mustering up a shaking finger to point at him. “Stop. Just go.” 

His face goes hard. “That bastard is off to a war camp. Soon. He becomes more like his father every day, doesn’t he?” His soft hands, warm and cradling, find your face. “You don’t have to punish me by being with him. Come be safe. All he’s done is throw you out in the path of danger. If he cared for you, it would have never happened.” 

Darting between his eyes, breaths come quick to you. “What?” you say. It’s the one word you can pull out from the chaos that he’s wrought onto your thoughts. A blizzard erupts, and through the whipping breeze and shards you don’t think to pull away from him or take his hands off of you. 

So, that’s why Taehyun had been busy. What does that even entail for you? Are you going to be here? Does he expect you to pack up and go there with him, to travel for a war that you don’t even care for? 

“All I ever did was protect you, pretty. I know that, in hindsight, it all seems shady. But I promise you that I did. They were never going to hurt you, and neither was I,” he says, his voice thick and strong with conviction. 

Metal rings, the sound of a quick blade being unsheathed.  

“Leave,” Taehyun snarls. He holds his sword at point, right on Yeonjun. It’s an emphatic promise of what he’s capable of and what he’ll do. 

Flame, wild and melting you around the edges, eats up every last bit of oxygen in the room. It leaves none for you to breathe. It crackles and pops between them, where their gazes meet and feed it. Everything else has gone still. Even the wind, it seems.  

Sword held fast and unmoving, Taehyun says, “You send your people into my home, and now you sneak in yourself. I won’t be walked over. Leave now, or you waste my courtesy.” 

So, he’d come to that conclusion as well. He’s so still—his face carved of ice into sharp edges.  

When Yeonjun sends a look your way, you shake your head at him. You have no clue what he’s thinking, but you want none of it. Your stomach does a violent flip. “Yeonjun, go. I want you to go. Please.” 

His features lined with flame; he looks from you to Taehyun. “Your violence will be the fall of you,” he says, jaw tight as he pushes out toward your door. Not without a final glance sent to you, though. The promise you see there is a dreadful one. 

You refuse to meet Taehyun’s daggered look. Beomgyu’s shirt lays forgotten on your bed. You’re half tempted to grab it and resume work; to continue on and escape this. 

“That didn’t take very fucking long, did it?” he says. “Right back into his arms.” 

Your drag your hands down your face. “I didn’t tell him to come here,” you snap. “It’s none of your business who I talk to. How about we talk about you leaving? When did you plan on telling me, huh? I don’t like secrets, Taehyun.” 

Taehyun slips his sword back into the sheath. It clicks back in place. “None of my business?” he says. He repeats the words back at you with an asp’s curl. “When he’s in my home, in your room, it’s my business.” 

“Would you stop?” you say, exhaustion sputtering out your fight. “With Yeonjun, I always know what’s going on. With you? I don’t know what to expect,” you say. “Tell me. When were you going to tell me that you’re going?” 

His face morphs into something different: one of those bone-chilling ones that you don’t know how to explain. He doesn’t answer for a few beats; you can see his mind turning itself over. “This was going to happen. I told you that,” he says. “And I was going to tell you.” 

You let out a long sigh, your shoulders loosening with it, when this time his voice isn’t so venomous. He’d been so busy lately. Being general assured that, especially now that things are moving. “When? How long will you be gone?” you say. “What if something happens to you, Taehyun? What are Beomgyu and I supposed to do?” You include Beomgyu in your proposition, but you’re not sure whether he’d stay with you or run off into the tree line the moment he finds he’s free. Then, really, who would you have? 

“You’ll be there,” he says. “You can come. I prefer it. If you stay here, you’re vulnerable to attacks. This estate is known to be mine, and now that I’ve become the general... I can’t say that it’s safe.” He’s come so close that now his eyes look down on you. They don’t feel acidic on your skin. “And nothing will happen to me. I promise it, nothing will happen to me or you. Or that kelpie. I’ll win this war.” 

Around a thick swallow, you nod.  

You don’t doubt that Taehyun has the skill or the wits to do so. You only can hope that he doesn’t destroy himself trying to prove it; to both you and himself. 

…🪶 ashlynn's note i know, i know. we made big moves this chapter. AHHHH! taehyun…… taehyun…..

﹙🏷️ ﹚ @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 , @linqed , @serenityism00 , @immelissaaa , @luv4cheol , @lickingan0rchid , @20-cms , @hhoneylix , @beestvng , @hyucktapes , @bewitchless , @prince-jjae , @blankliving , @yaoizee , @stormy1408 , @missychief1404 , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

[slytherinboysvip]

Controlling Tom Riddle

Honestly idk what to classify this as, but it’s kinda like idk.. deranged? maybe not but I have more like this up my sleeve if it does well (TW: manipulation, unspoken gaslighting, extremely controlling, idk what else to add)

You loved Tom. You truly, truly did. But he tended to take the term "I just want to lock you up" a little too seriously.

I mean, it wasn’t much at first, barely even noticeable in fact. Simple things such as suggesting what you should wear, insisting the more modest options were much more flattering on you; “It brings out your eyes, doll.”

He would remind you of your favorite foods, and when to and when not to eat them.. “Not now, it’s far too late for late night snacks. However, I have something I think might suffice for you.”

Overtime the helpful things became him controlling everything you wore, no shirts were allowed to be low enough cut for anyone to see down- tall people included. You wanted to comfortably wear your uniform? Absolutely not. It had to be perfect, and to show just how much of a “good girl” you are for him, you get cute bows in your hair every morning; special spell from him.

His behavior didn’t bother you, how could it? Yes you couldn’t wear certain things, but everything you got in return was amazing. Nobody understands him the way you do, they don’t know him like you do. That’s what you’re constantly telling your friends. “You don’t know him like I do. He’s romantic.”

Romance? It really is funny how blurry the lines get between romance and control, dress up per se? Once again with the dressing you- believe me, he spoils your beyond belief. Though, most of it is “My eyes only.” Slowly your closet went from things you’ve gotten from friends, shirts you once loved, to everything Tom approved.

It didn’t matter though, because he still spoils you.

Being in class was an entirely different story. In the beginning you simply couldn’t speak to any other guys, you understood, not wanting him interacting with girls either it seemed fair. Until you couldn’t sit with any of them, problem being, its not like you can just chose where you sit everytime. That doesn’t matter to Tom though, “You seemed to betray me today hun.” Nice name, yet the tone anything but.

It was pretty sudden when Tom just happened to to become your seating partner in every single class, and yes, that somehow included ones he once hadn’t attended. But this was a good thing. You got to be with your boyfriend all day long, that’s so exciting. Watching your every move, telling you what you did wrong on your work “Can’t have a dumb girl, can I doll?”

It was sweet. He was being helpful, you always had help. Just don’t ask for too much, then that makes you stupid, idiotic, dense. That’s according to him though, and yes his words. “Honestly, I don’t know what you’d do without me, you’re just so mindless most of the time. It’s infuriating”

But no matter what it’s always okay because, “You know I never mean what I say, Love. I’ll take you out, even buy you something new”

You see, none of this happened quickly. It was like one moment you controlled your life, the next moment you didn’t. You lived in his dorm, once again don’t ask how, Tom Riddle has his ways. He chose your outfits the days no uniforms were needed, but of course only because “I just love picking out what my girl wears, you love it too, don’t you, hm?”

Now here you are, unable to speak to anyone really, no boys, no friends because well, they only attract unwanted male attention of course. It was crazy to think you’d leave your friends behind for a boy, not just your friends really more like your entire old life, but Tom wasn’t just any boy. No, he had full control over you and you both knew it. You loved it.

I know im saying idk a lot but idk how i feel about this 😭😭

once again i hope you all enjoy <33

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Love is Stored in the Cat: A Nepeta Leijon Character Study

I guess these are a series now! I also have a request for Feferi in my inbox that I'll get around to eventually.

SO! Dear, sweet Nepeta.

Nepeta is the troll that is most against the existence of the hemocaste.

I believe the Ultimate Self speech was originally going to be from her, not Davepetasprite^2.

She's bad at shipping.

These all make her extremely impurrtant!!!

So furst of all, I'm going to start with the same disclaimer as my Eridan essay (go read that first!!! It sets up a lot of ideas that I'm expanding on here), which is that the things Hussie says are going to be lowered in value, because he likes to play coy about plot stuff. I'm also not counting anything but the actual text as canon, and even with in that text, I'm counting everything after GAME OVER as soft canon - a suggestion of what would have been, often truncated for time, often a deliberate middle finger to the shitty fandom.

Okay, so with that squared away!

Nepeta Says Fuck The Hemocaste

I'm not going to bother doing a deep dive on Nepeta's characterization, because fur the most part, I think the fandom more or less gets her right - she wears her heart (h33h33) on her sl33ve, after all! She's a very sweet little catgirl who loves roleplay and shipping, who is also a vicious hunter of wild beasts and lives in a cave. She's very nice and friendly, but has a tough streak and a spine.

She also says fuck the hemocaste, why does that even exist:

CT: D --> Your fraternization with the base classes have 100sened your morals, can't you see this AC: :33 < no! i dont care, they are fun AC: :33 < and i dont know anything about classes or bases or blood color, it doesn't matter! AC: :33 < what does gr33n blood even mean! it doesnt mean anything to me and it shouldnt mean anything to anyone else!

This is a radical stance not outright shared by any of the other trolls. Aradia calls highbloods "hateful sn0bs" that she and Tavros shouldn't have "ever had anything t0 d0 with", the highbloods are, of course, all casteist to varying degrees, and even Karkat seems fairly accepting of the class divide, at one point taunting Vriska that her rejection from the blue team is "ANOTHER INFURIATING VICTORY FOR GUTTER BLOOD OVER ARISTOCRACY". Not to mention his long-held dream of becoming a threshecutioner.

Even Feferi, despite saying to Eridan that "W-E AR-E NOT B-ETT-ER T)(AN ANYBODY!!!!!", is actually perfectly comfortable with the caste system's existence, comparing having to stop using her royal typing quirk to "peasant-IFICATING" herself - and let's not forget that a Beforus under her rule had its caste system 100% intact.

This means that Nepeta is the ONLY troll who has said, in no uncertain terms, that the caste system should not exist. It's stupid, it's bad, and it doesn't meowtter!

AND SHE'S RIGHT.

But she's never able to fully express this opinion, which brings us to:

A COMPLICKATED RELATIONSHIP WITH EQUIUS

Now, before I say anything, I must insist that I do believe these two work as good moirails. That does not, however, stop them from being 13, and therefore, being poor to each other the way 13-year-olds sometimes are. I don't think they should break up; I think they should re-examine certain dynamics, and I think they need some space to breathe apart from each other.

Equius has a lot of problems, which I won't get into overmuch here, because... that's a whole essay on its own (are you people seeing a trend yet). But with regards to Nepeta specifically, he's extremely controlling and protective, to the point where she's a little scared of him before the game begins:

AC: :33 < well it does sound like it will be a lot of fun but i think i should get purrmission first GC: BL4R!!!!! GC: TH4TS SO STUP1D GC: H3S NOT TH3 BOSS OF YOU AC: :33 < i know! AC: :33 < but still im kind of scared of him and i think purrhaps its best to just run it by him first so there isnt a kerfuffle about it or anything

She's also afraid to tell him about her crush on Karkat, since she knows he doesn't like Karkat:

AC: :33 < well AC: :33 < i have never told anybody this not even my moirail AC: :33 < heh, actually hes the LAST guy i might tell, he so wouldnt appurrve X33 AC: :33 < but yes i have liked somebody for quite some time, but alas he doesnt know it

By the time they end their game, she's gotten over this fear, seeing as she spends many hours curled up with Equius in a pile of robotics parts, but it still must be noted that they have some issues in their relationship that were never resolved, primarily on Equius's end. What this means for Nepeta, however, is that in addition to setting her up as the most outright anti-classism troll, the comic sets her up to be socially isolated due to her moirail's paranoia about letting her associate with both lowbloods (seeing them as bad influences) OR other highbloods, seeing them as dangerous.

He's not entirely wrong - his refusal to allow her to participate in FLARP kept her from winding up entangled in the horrible chain of revenge, as Tavros alludes:

AT: iT'S PROBABLY FOR THE BEST, AT: tHAT YOU LISTEN TO HIM, AC: :33 < i dont know AC: :33 < you think so? AT: wELL, AT: iF YOU DIDN'T LISTEN TO HIM BEFORE, AT: yOU MIGHT HAVE PLAYED GAMES WITH US BEFORE, AT: aND SOMETHING BAD MIGHT HAVE HAPPENED TO YOU, AC: :33 < hmm purrhaps

But he's still wrong. And it's probably an uncontrolled manifestation of his Heir of Void abilities - he's both consciously and unconsciously hiding her from other people.

This isn't to say she doesn't stand up for herself! Many of her discussions with Equius are pseudo-arguments, and she does get her way often enough, managing to get him to roleplay with her, and managing to get him back in the roboti% pile to talk about his feelings about Aradia. She also talks to the humans explicitly against Equius's orders, although she's keeping it a sneakret from him:

NEPETA: :33 < but equius already furbid me from doing that :(( NEPETA: :33 < not that i am listening to him, but shhhhh! :33 KARKAT: WAIT, HE DID? KARKAT: OK, THEN AS YOUR LEADER I ORDER YOU TO RP WITH THEM AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. BE AS OBNOXIOUS ABOUT IT AS YOU CAN. NEPETA: :33 < yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

But the fact that she has to tiptoe around him like this speaks to them having issues in their relationship that go unexamined and unresolved, especially since it's clear that Nepeta really would like to be friends with more people, were Equius not getting in her way. So, even though I do think they are good moirails for each other - they clearly genuinely, deeply care about one another. But they could use some relationship counselling.

In fact, Jasprosesprite^2 outright calls her lonely:

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Or the girl who likes ships! Cause they made her less lonely. ;3

So, she's anti-hemocaste and lonely, two character traits that were set up and never resolved. And beclaws this is Nepeta, in her honor, I'm going to talk about a third:

Her Unrequited Crush On Karcat

She has the BIGGEST flushed crush on Karkat. It's seen on her shipping wall twice, once with the word OTP on it.

And, despite never discussing it with her moirail, Nepeta mentions it once to Jaspersprite, and once to Jasprosesprite^2.

Now, I'm not really here to debate on the validity of KatNep - I think it's fine, even if I don't personally ship it, and don't personally think it would work out (there are lots of indications that they wouldn't work out, including Jasprosesprite^2 outright saying so). However, her crush on Karkat is both complicated and creates some interesting setups for her character. I am going to discuss it fairly critically either way, so KatNep shippers have been warned.

A lot of her feelings about Karkat - and about shipping in general - wind up being heavily interlinked with her status as a Hero of Heart, so I'm going to expand on it more there. But what I will note in this section is the fact that, despite Nepeta insisting twice that she doesn't think Karkat knows about her crush on her:

NEPETASPRITE: :33 < it was karkat NEPETASPRITE: :33 < but i never told him and im pretty sure he never found out how i felt!

He tooootally did:

KARKAT: OK, BUT TO BE FAIR, I'M PRETTY SURE SHE'S STILL OBSESSED WITH ME. KARKAT: IT'S A VERY UNFORTUNATE, VERY RED AND VERY UNREQUITED SITUATION I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TIPTOE AROUND FOR A LONG TIME, OK?

Interpret that how you will for shipping purposes, but I want to propose that this is a reflection of their statuses as Heart and Blood players. Heart, despite its players' obsessions with romance, is not the romance aspect, Blood is. Karkat displays this very same romantic acumen when he tells Dave that he's known Terezi and Gamzee were a thing for a long time, despite everyone else on the meteor trying to keep it a secret from him. Heart is, instead, about identity, feelings, motivations, souls, and self. In other words:

Nepeta Is Kind Of Bad At Shipping

Let's take a look at those shipping walls.

Let's break this down a little. Nepeta's ships are not entirely wrong, but even the successful ones are kind of wrong. Here's what I mean. We've already discussed how Equius and Nepeta's moirallegiance has some... issues in it. If we go down her list of ships that actually do happen, most of them have some issues in them!

Aradia expresses her regret for getting together with Equius in the Ministrife. Kanaya and Rose suffer some major relationship problems when Rose starts drinking, to the point Karkat feels a need to step in as an auspice. Karkat and Gamzee fail, as Karkat is not calmed by Gamzee, and Gamzee stops listening to Karkat. And while Sollux and Feferi seem to be fairly healthy, after they both wind up in the Furthest Ring, he's pretty much always next to Aradia - he and Feferi don't even get to exchange words with each other once they're in the Furthest Ring. Purrsonally, I think he and Feferi are meant to end up as moirails, but shhhh.

So what's happening here? Well, this goes back to her identity as a Heart player. Heart is concerned with feelings and motivations.

They simply want to understand the one thing we all are stuck with for our entire lives, i.e. our own minds. Forging an identity is extremely important to the Heart-bound, and every decision and action goes toward building a coherent narrative of their own story. That isn't to say Heart-bound don't care deeply for their friends and allies; they just have a tendency to assume that everyone is as concerned with identity as they are.

Nepeta's shipping has also been associated with her isolation and loneliness. When you put this together, it implies that Nepeta's shipping is about her desire to understand others, and much of her ships are based on one of the parties having feelings, regardless of compatibility, feasibility, or broader implications. After all, despite the fact that she has pretty terrible romantic acumen, she IS able to instinctively identify that Eridan's advances toward her were insincere:

NEPETASPRITE: :33 < well ok i guess eridan hit on me a few times NEPETASPRITE: :33 < but his advances always struck me as cr33py and insincere

And that Karkat secretly LOVES and RESPECTS his friends:

JASPROSESPRITE^2: On the contrary Nepeta. You deserve someone who will RESPECT and ADORE you. NEPETASPRITE: :33 < well... yes NEPETASPRITE: :33 < i always hoped to find someone like that some day NEPETASPRITE: :33 < i dunno maybe youre right but in spite of whatever problems he might have i always felt like i saw something in him that made me think he could be that purrson!

Or knowing that Equius loves to play games, and still feels sad about Aradia exploding:

AC: :33 < i s33 right through your stupid act, who are you trying to kid! AC: :33 < look how you go out of your way to use words that have x's in them so that you can use your silly purrcent signs AC: :33 < or use these absurd words that you can shoehorn a '100' into, even if its not strictly replacing 'loo'!!! AC: :33 < you are so transpurrent AC: :33 < i can tell you like to play games, d33p down you are a guy who likes to play games! AC: :33 < i can smell a guy who likes to play games from so fur away with this nose, you have no idea X33

NEPETA: :33 < she was so happy, just like she used to be, and she said she would s33 you soon! EQUIUS: D --> That's a nice thought, and thank you for sharing it EQUIUS: D --> But it was only a dream, and will surely have no consequence in reality NEPETA: :33 < equius? NEPETA: :33 < are those f33lings i an detecting with my wiggly whiskery nose? EQUIUS: D --> Maybe

Because feelings, and not relationships, are her actual domain.

And speaking of Heart powers...

Nepeta and the Ultimate Self

So from this point forward, I'm going to assume you're more or less agreeing with my take that at some point after Game Over, Hussie - for whatever reason - gave up on his original ending, and wound up truncating his ideas so he could finish the comic faster. I go more into detail about that here.

So, in this hypothetical original ending, I firmly believe that the speech about the Ultimate Self would have come from Nepeta. First, let's take a look at what the "Ultimate Self" entails, as it appears within the comic:

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < everything that ever happens to every version of you is an important part of your ultimate self... like a superceding bodyless and timeless persona that crosses the boundaries of paradox space and unlike god tiers or bubble ghosts or whatever, it really IS immortal DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < but in your physical form there are all these partitions in your mind that prevent you from remembering any of that which makes your existence f33l totally linear DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < which is probably for the best! DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < in a regular body s33ing all that would be too overwhelming ... DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < and after it sinks in for a while you start coming to this understanding of a greater self DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < maybe i "got it" quicker though because of the two people i was and their aspects DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < understanding heart is all about the nuances of a distributed self DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < nepeta never got to make much headway with her aspect but shes finally gettin the chance DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < the time aspect is all about running into different versions of yourself so you kinda get confronted with it in a really literal way that can be disturbing DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < obviously davesprite stuggled with that too, but now its fine DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < hes fr33 from worrying about it all and what it means for his place in reality DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < because he can s33 now all his selves have relevance in painting the full picture of who he truly is DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < im not COMPLETELY sure because im not like some sort of ASPECT MASTER but DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < my avian slash feline intuition tells me that all roads will lead you here eventually DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < gaining the d33pest possible understanding of any aspect will bring you to the same final conclusion about your ultimate self

Now, I believe - and I hope you'll agree - that it's kind of lame, narratively, for Davesprite to have been set up with so much angst about not being the "real Dave," and for Nepeta to have all her issues with loneliness and shyness, and for these two specific iterations of each other to have never interacted, but suddenly getting double-prototyped fixes all of their problems, and they achieve Ultimate Selfhood despite being two total strangers to each other. So let's instead break down the more salient points about what Ultimate Selfhood entails, divorced from the fact that it's Davepetasprite^2 doing the narrating:

Every player in the game possesses an "Ultimate Self," an ultimate culmination of all their experiences and memories, specifically referred to as a "persona"

Normally, people are not aware of this, because it would be too overwhelming to deal with so many memories and iterations of each other.

Everyone will achieve Ultimate Selfhood eventually as the final culmination of their understanding of their aspect.

Heart is all about the nuances of a distributed self.

Let's talk about that last one some more, and by that I mean, let's see what Calliope has to say about it:

TT: I don't know why it had to be this way for me. Juggling these two waking selves at once. TT: I guess I'm used to it, but it still makes for a pretty intense existence. TT: Do you even know what the deal with that is? Like is there any precedent in your readings? UU: i don't know aboUt precedent, bUt it makes plenty of sense to me as the type of path one might expect for a hero of heart. UU: a path rUled by the heart aspect can be a joUrney of splintered self. UU: that is, the player's being may exhibit the same kind of fragmentation which certain classes coUld caUse in others. UU: i think this is what has triggered yoUr dUal-awareness between waking and dream selves, thoUgh it woUld not sUrprise me if the symptoms manifested in even more ways than this.

Now, Dirk has a clawmplicated relationship with his alternate selves, given that he's a Prince, but Nepeta wouldn't have the same struggles, or at least, not to the same degree. The problem is, hampered by Equius and her own shyness about discussing her thoughts and feelings with others:

NEPETASPRITE: :33 < i get so shy and worried what people might think of me if i say how i f33l NEPETASPRITE: :33 < im always so scared that they wont f33l the same way or just think im stupid or pathetic or something

She never actually gets to explore this part of herself.

But What If... She Did?

The way I imagine the original ending going is that each troll that gets saved by John's interference in the timeline then asks John to help them fix their own mistakes, thereby saving somebody else. Each successive trip through the meteor brings new character development, and also riddles the comic with progressively more password pages, which I think would be really funny. And throughout all this the Game Over team is searching for Vriska, Meenah, and the treasure, and resolving their arcs that way, so it's not like they would be replaced - they're the ones who get to kill LE. The process, in my mind, goes like this:

Terezi asks John to save Vriska, and prevent her from getting too spades with Gamzee, as these are her two greatest regrets.

Vriska obviously had great regrets about killing Tavros, both pre- and post-retcon, so she asks for his death to be prevented.

Tavros staying alive means that he and Gamzee wind up hashing out some stuff - Gamzee mentions that he feels "So aT ChIlL WiTh yOu" while talking to Tavros, and Tavros reciprocates the friendship and also - interestingly - acknowledges Gamzee's religion, calling it beautiful even if he doesn't necessarily believe in it. This is interesting because Karkat's inability to do so is explicitly one of the reasons their moirallegiance broke down. So having Tavros back, alive, means that he and Gamzee would likely end up in some sort of relationship, probably pale despite flushed leanings, and would bring Gamzee back into the fold.

Gamzee would then be like, yeah, wow, that time I killed Nepeta and Equius was pretty bad, huh? Especially since his decision to hang onto his friends' bodies and prototype them is often interpreted as him genuinely feeling bad about his dead friends (he tells Kurloz to shut up when Kurloz mentions all the dead friends, and his religion seems to be about a paradise he wants to share with his friends anyway). So he'd ask John to prevent him from killing them, resulting in the two of them getting to live.

Things get much more hypothetical from here, since so much of the character dynamics would have changed, but I think by this point, Equius might command ask John to let him say goodbye to Aradiabot before she explodes, which he expresses feeling very sad about. However, in doing so, John and Aradiabot end up in the same room, and when she realizes that he has the ability to change the timeline without repercussions, she'd seize him by the arm and demand that he take her back in time, to before she died. After all, she expresses regrets about her reckless actions, and how she always felt like it was all one big setup.

She would take Aradia's place in the Vriska revenge chain, being once more freed of her robot chassis, and from there, would trick Doc Scratch and the Handmaiden into thinking everything was still going according to their designs. Meanwhile, Alive!Aradia would be hanging out at Equius's place, borrowing his void powers to avoid notice, coordinating a new timeline that keeps the beats of the original (too much deviation causes unpredictability, and an paradox'd timeline offshoot without John's direct interference would still become doomed), but allows them greater freedom and the ability to overcome the machinations of Doc Scratch and associates.

This would also prevent Sollux from becoming so self-loathing, since it's no longer "his fault" that Aradia dies, although he winds up in that hole again after Feferi gets killed. Now that his Aradia is alive, he wouldn't feel like he might as well stay in the bubbles because his closest companions are there, so he'd make it to the end, and would ask John to prevent Feferi's death.

Eridan still dies; he's so disconnected and isolated from all his friends that his course of actions is largely unaffected even by everybody else's timeline tweaks. But before Feferi can suggest bringing him back, Karkat would butt in.

The Friendship Troll should be the one to demand that ALL of their friends be revived, especially if they had everyone except only one guy, and Karkat and Eridan are heavily implied to be moirails anyway. The course of Karkat's fixes are so comprehensive, and primarily romance-based, that the end result of this final loop is everybody not only being alive, but god-tiered, with appropriate character development.

Now, where Nepeta's Heart powers would play into all of this is that she would start to notice something going on. After all, Heart players are sensitive to their splintered selves, and (Nepeta) is probably much closer to Nepeta than regular doomed timeline offshoots. As the loops continue, and Nepeta has more and more time to talk to people, and meets her dead alternate selves, and even meets (Nepeta), she starts to awaken to her Ultimate Self - to come into possession of alternate memories.

And if the Ultimate Self is a very soul-y kind of concept, such that Heart players have a natural advantage in coming to understand it, then isn't it a natural fit that a Rogue of Heart - one who steals from Heart or steals Heart for others - would be naturally inclined to share the wisdom of her alternate selves, and even the very concept of the Ultimate Self, with her friends?

Because the Ultimate Self is actually, in my opinion, a pretty good narrative device. It turns the sadness of the dead and doomed timelines into something littersweet instead, and makes it so any weirdness regarding time travel and not really knowing your friends anymore will eventually be resolved, even if off-screen.

It's not really narratively satisfying when Davepetasprite^2 suddenly comes into being and reaches enlightenment, but imagine if instead it's a post-character development Nepeta comforting Davesprite on his relevance, or Jade on her loneliness, or John on not really knowing these new post-retcon versions of his friends? It would feel a lot better, since in this hypothetical, she would have reached that point after on-screen character development. Being able to share her true self with her friends on the meteor - by necessity, since what else are they going to be doing for three years - leads to her finally being able to fulfill her role as a Rogue of Heart.

Also, at some point during these repeated meteor trips, she dates Karkat (whether that's successful or not, I'll leave to reader interpretation - you already know where I stand), fulfilling Jaspersprite's musing that she might only be able to date Karkat after she dies.

So that's two out of thr33 of her outstanding plot hooks resolved... okay. So, I try not to make these essays into ship propaganda, but hear me out:

Hate Is Stored In The FefNep

Okay, so, remember that thing about how Feferi is actually a huge casteist hypocrite? Well, let's also note that the comic, post-Murderstuck, seems to put Nepeta and Feferi together a lot - they're a Commodore and Rear Admiral in the ghost pirate army, respectively, and they also wind up as Fefetasprite. So I think it's not entirely out of left field to say that these two were implied to have SOMETHING going on.

And that something... is a difference in political views.

I mean, let's be real, there's a reason Fefetasprite is the most explode-prone after Tavrisprite. Miss "The Hemocaste is Stupid and Shouldn't Matter" vs. Miss "I Love Being A Princess And Call Jade Hornless and Finless (Derogatory)"? Come on, tell me you don't see it.

Without getting too much into Feferi, this hypocrisy, and unwillingness to check her privilege (so glad I found an excuse to use that term unironically), are probably her greatest character flaws - ie, the things you would expect the story to address about her. Meanwhile, one of Nepeta's flaws, which she laments to Jasproseprite^2, is that she feels too shy to talk about her feelings to other people, leading to her having never expressed her views on the hemocaste to anyone but Equius.

I think that they initially think they'd be friends. Each one of them would go "oh man, this other girl is soooo cute, I wish I could talk to her more often!"

And then, once they do, they realize they fucking hate each other. Nepeta would go "X00 < you are such a hypocrite who f33ls like youre better than all of us!!!" and Feferi would go "You're suc)( an uneducated glubbing P-EASANT! 3X0" and then they'd claw each others' eyes out. It would be so funny, and if a homestuck ship isn't extremely fucking funny, then why are we even here.

But more importantly, this would further them along into resolving each others' arcs - Feferi would be forced to grapple with the greater implications of classism, and Nepeta - who is shown having a spine the most in defiance of somebody else - would grow more aggressive about being open about her feelings in defiance of Feferi. Even Equius would get roped into it in a positive way - you can just imagine him going "D --> Can I really believe my auricular sponge clots D --> Nepeta, you are finally taking interest in politi%" and be 100% on board with teaching her so Feferi won't be able to call her uneducated.

And then for flushed, I dunno! Karkat's an option, and Jade and Jake also both love the fuck out of furries, and Tavros seems nice. But yeah I'll die on the fefnep hate ship. Guys it would be so funny.

Thank you as always for reading! Let me know if there's a troll you want to hear me ramble about next.

[rosenclaws]

Can I request 15 and 34 from the fluff prompt list with either Logan or Charlie, please? Congrats on 600!! 💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛

Join my 600 Follower celebration!!

15 - “I’m asking because I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

34 - “I shouldn’t be allowed to be this happy.”

a/n: Thank you for requesting!!! Funny enough though they're both fluff prompts this somehow turned angsty dasflk;j im so sorry i do it to myself

He's hiding something. You know he is. Logan has just been different. I mean he was always grumpy and short tempered but this was something else. You thought, or well you had hoped that your time in the void had really bonded you.

You were trash from another universe while he had gotten dragged through hell by Wade. He got you and you got him. You were a failure to your universe so they pruned you. Logan was the worst variant of Wolverine. Something felt nice about having someone else who was the worst with you.

Ever since you landed in Wade's universe you had only gotten closer. Both of you picking up odd jobs for money until you finally landed a steady bakery job. Horribly early hours and lots of hard work but it meant you could be home by lunch. Logan was often out late too. He wouldn't tell you what he was doing but he came back with enough rent money so you didn't question him. You used to eat lunch together. It was a way to make sure the both of you were actually taking care of yourselves. It wasn't anything fancy. Just sandwiches or pasta or something easy.

But for some reason Logan has been avoiding you. Constantly. To the point where he'd leave the room if you were there. It was really starting to bug you. You don't know what's going on with him. You catch him staring sometimes. His eyes are worn and broken. When you try and approach him they harden right back up and he stalks away. It was infuriating.

You finally reached your boiling point when you came home early from work one day. Your back aching and you're dead tired. You lean your forehead against the door, just taking a moment. Then you hear him laugh. You know it's him. He's got this unmistakable snort that he tries to hide but he can't. So he's just avoiding you, no one else. Its you. You're the problem and you don't understand why. In a fit of anger you slam the door open.

"Out! Everyone except for you." You point at Logan. The room clears quickly. Wade opens his mouth to say something but you glare with a ferocity so strong he shuts up.

"Good luck kitty cat!" He whisper yells before hurrying out the door.

"What?" Logan grumbles, his eyes averting to the ground. You scoff and throw your things on the couch.

"What is your problem? You've been avoiding me."

"Why do you fucking care? Not like we were close anyways." He asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Bullshit Logan. I'm asking because I’ve seen the way you look at me. I see you across the room look so sad but the moment I even take a step you're back to this shit." You gesture to his closed off stance.

He's running from you and you demand to know why. He puffs out his chest and stands up. Mumbling about how ridiculous this is and tries to walk away from you.

"Logan! For fucks sake!" You follow him, your anger morphing into confusion as he continues to run.

"Just tell me what I did?!" Your voice breaks as the desperation comes out. You just want him back.

"Nothing!" He growls as he turns back to face you. Slamming his hand against the wall. You jump as he cages you in. He's breathing hard as he stares at you. This is the closest you've been in weeks.

"Nothing. You didn't do anything wrong." His voice is softer, sadder.

"There has to be something Logan. I miss you." He sighs and clenches his fist.

Fuck he thought he could avoid this. That he could get you to run away before he fucked it all up but for some reason you're still here.

"I shouldn’t be allowed to be this happy. I mean just look at me.” Logan thinks so low of himself. He always has. He's a fucked up lost cause. Everyone he cares about dies or gets hurt and its always his fault.

"You make me happy." He confesses.

You make him feel unlike anything else. Like he's not the monster he was. You look at him and he just, smiles. It's weird and strange and a feeling he's not used to. It scares him to his core.

"Man you really are stupid." You say in disbelief.

"I...What?" Logan looks confused but you grab his face and kiss him.

He stumbles back in surprise but ends up taking control quickly. Pushing you against the wall and digging his hands into your hips.

"You make me happy too Logan, so please don't run away from me."

You comb your fingers through his hair as you tug him closer to you. He closes his eye as he leans his forehead on yours. The urge to shut you out is there, listening would be easier but there's a chance at real happiness right in in front of him and he'd be a fool to ignore it.

"Fuck it." He grabs your waist and pulls you tight. Smashing his lips onto yours in a messy kiss.

He can be selfish, just this once.

Just for you.

[yandere-sins]

Hello! Im fairly new to COD and I have really enjoyed your works so far. Was curious if you could share headcanons on a darling being shared between Ghost and Soap? Like maybe their darling is the new fresh faced rookie to their task force that they taken a real shine to, and are perhaps just a little too fond of them

I gotcha! Thank you for your request ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««      

♡ It all starts with an awful habit of these two: staring. Constantly. Annoyingly. Even when you are on a mission, you can feel their eyes drilling into your back, burning their mark into your skin and bones with their gaze. Ghost is, well, a ghost. You never catch him looking at you, but you feel his eyes and his breath down your neck even when you're in the field. No one is behind you, but your enemies fall before they can get close enough to shoot you. When you ask him not to coddle you as much, you see his mask scrunch up a little around his lips like a smirk. Soap isn't as subtle. He looks and gets stuck on a part of you, one at a time. Your lips, your hands, the crook of your neck when you wear a shirt with a neckline. Soap merely locks onto the spot, his gaze like a dagger dragging over your flesh, intrusive and possessive. Still, even if called out, he only laughs it off, saying he was in thoughts before finding another place on your body to fantasize about.

♡ They are quite infuriating, but as your captain and lieutenant, who are you to go against them? They might be odd, but they must have seen more gruesome things that messed up minds than you did in your life, so it might be understandable their behavior isn't always top-notch. Then again, things become weirder when you notice their presence being everywhere you go. For some reason, their quarters have been arranged on either side of yours. They stroll into the community rooms just moments after you. And as you stand in the shower, scrubbing off the dirt from the day, you suddenly hear Soap ask to borrow your body wash from the next cubicle, passing the bottle forward to Ghost by throwing it over your head. There's an increasingly worrisome proximity between the three of you that has you looking over your shoulder for not only enemies but allies as well.

♡ It has its perks, too. Not everything is just bad. You always get to do missions with either of them, being able to watch and follow the command of someone who knows what they are doing. There's no question that if they say jump, you jump, and it's good to know you have someone reliable to cover your back. And the compliments, oh boy. You watch how they treat the others, the usual jokes and digs at each other, but to you, they seem warmer. Tell you when you did a good job, invite you to train with them and help you improve. They even let you win sometimes (and you know they lose on purpose, but it does feel really good to slam them to the ground). Ghost purrs his "Well done, Rookie" and "Nice shot" into your ear, goosebumps distracting your aim, which he so likes to correct with his body pressed against yours. And Soap always greets you cheerily, telling you how good the mission was thanks to you and how he loves working with you. He puts his arm around you while telling everyone how great you were, and when the harder times hit, he's there as your captain to console you and help you get through it however you need.

♡ But then there are other times... like the ones when you think you're still dreaming a bizarre dream, opening your eyes to find them standing next to your bed, watching you silently, staring. You ask them what's wrong, but Soap hushes you, gently stroking your head until you fall asleep, Ghost grumbling next to you as if he disapproves of the closeness between you two. They're still working on sorting out this relationship by the time they show concerning amounts of possessiveness over you and aggression to everyone that gets close to you. Soap won't let anyone belittle you, not even as a joke. He's also pulling you from field operations, much to your chagrin. All while Ghost becomes your shadow, on minor missions as well as the base. He's too good to be stuck with your rookie tasks, but he comes along regardless. Soap also does, but while Ghost towers behind you on every step you make, Soap carves the way you're allowed to walk, parting the crowds of other people like your friends and teammates and isolating you.

♡ It's not a comfortable way of living and doing your job anymore. As much as you don't want to leave the trust and companionship you already built, you realize you don't have the future you want with those two around. You don't even tell them you applied for a transfer. They learn it through the grapevine. For a few days, those two just angrily scowl when you meet them around the base (or, in Ghost's case, hit you with a contempt stare). But even these weird days pass, and on your last day, with your bags packed, you visit them to at least say goodbye and thank them for all they taught you. To your surprise, you find them in some storeroom together and feel bad for interrupting their conversation. But their eyes snap to you the moment you step inside, so you try to make it quick and less awkward. As a last attempt of reconciliation, you shake their hands, first Soap's, then Ghost's. However, as you try to move away, Ghost grabs you by the wrist, and it's nothing like your little training quarrels. It's bone-crushing, painful, and impossible to wring yourself out of. You never had a real chance against them, and you knew it, but the way they acted made you believe they were good people deep down in their mad minds. Oh, how wrong you were... As Soap steps up behind you, pressing a cloth to your face with a putrid smell, the last thing you hear is, "Can't let you leave us like this, Darlin'," before you pass out, strong arms wrapping around you as they carry you off to a container they have prepared for you. Somewhere you won't be easily found until it is way too late to return to your normal life.

[basil-does-arttt]

Devil May Cry 2. The pimple-faced teenager of the series, widely regarded as the worst game in the franchise.

While yes i agree with this viewpoint to some degree, and i think all the jokes about it being the worst one are funny... i honestly dont think the game is THAT bad. In fact, i think people give it too much shit.

Ill start out by saying this: no, the game isnt amazing. Its under-developed, rushed, and in no way is it up to the same standard as the other 4 games. Im not saying its this perfect game, but its not as horrible as some make it out to be.

Ive played through the game on the original PS2 version and the remastered version, and although im yet to complete Lucia's campaign, i can confidently say the game is mediocre at worst really.

First the gameplay: Boring? Yes. Definitely. Do you like standing in one place and shooting everything for 15 minutes untill it drops dead? This is the game for you. But you dont have to do that, it just happens to be the easiest option because the controls are so jank. I spent (some) time myself learning the combos, turns out it depends on the way you angle the joystick, and once you get the hang of it, its not that difficult to S rank combat encounters at all. Its annoying, but not impossible, and the combos can honestly look pretty cool imo.

The movement is also another thing, the dodge animation takes way too long to perform but i do like the forward dash. Its a nice alternative to using stinger as a makeshift movement dash, i wish they kept it for furture versions of Dante. (Yes i know theres the trickster dash, but he doesn't do a flip)

I also really love the flying mechanic with aerial heart, and the different kinds of core thingies you could combine as a whole. A unique feature that kinda got combined into other things in Dante's design.

A few of the bosses, if they had been fleshed out and maybe balanced a bit better, could've been just amazing too. Furiataurus for example. One boss i feel was done well though was The Despair Embodied, and although you can just stand around and shoot it to death like everything else, you do actually have to put effort in to not get hit and die. (Trismalga is also kinda in that boat too, a well(ish) done fight you actually have to put effort into, but i personally didn't like it.)

Next, level design: You have to admit they did some cool things with the level design. *some*. The whole "grungy city" vibe is something i found very interesting, and the trippy purple iteration of lower town was, while infuriating to navigate thanks to the camera and graphics (esp on the ps2 version), was actually quite neat. I also really liked the clock tower in Lucia's campaign.

And also, the music. Can i just say, i think dmc 2's soundtrack is my favorite one out of all 5 games. The ambient background tracks are almost dreamy, especially Lucia's ones, the boss themes honestly go hard and the piano track that's repeated throughout the whole soundtrack just sounds good. If you take anything away from this post, its that you should listen to the soundtrack. (I reccomend the tracks "Unholy Relics", "Cry for the Moon", and "Shoot the Works")

The character designs are another thing i think they did well in this game. In my humble opinion, Dante's dmc 2 style is the best looking one in the whole series. Lucia also looks quite cool, her devil trigger form especially.

The characters themselves, Dante especially, need work, but might i remind you the developers were rushed when making this game. They didn't have enough time to do everything they wanted to do, 6 months before the game was supposed to release they didn't even have it in working condition. It was only thanks to Itsuno stepping in as the director that we got this game in the first place, and all he could do was salvage what the team had already created and get it in a releasable state before launch.

If only they had a bit more time (and maybe resources), dmc 2 couldve been quite the cool game. Though, on that note, if it werent for dmc 2's catastrophic faliure and Itsuno's prompt pestering for a sequel so the franchise didn't die outright, we wouldn't have gotten dmc 3. Though i think Capcom would've made a 3rd game regardless of the scenario.

All in all, i dont think dmc 2 is that horrible of a game. If you have the remaster collection, or even the original PS2 version, at least try it. Give it a go, play through the first few missions and kill one or two of the bosses.

Don't take it seriously, just have fun and enjoy the game in all its janky half-finished glory. If you look at dmc 2 that way, i think you'll enjoy it a whole lot more.

Or dont. Yknow, its your choice.

[scatterpatter]

I think one of the most fascinating things about getting older is learning to actually like alcohol

And like not in a "Oh I finally get it" way but like actually learning to enjoy things at my own pace and no one else's

It was so infuriating when I was in college and especially when I turned 21 that drinking was such this expectation put on me and that I was expected to like cheap beer and shitty vodka or whatever they were mixing into punch at parties- I really grew disdainful towards alcohol culture, and it made me so mad that I had to have a """reason""" why I wasnt drinking. "I just dont feel like it" or "This tastes awful I dont want it" wasn't enough of an excuse for some reason and it really turned me away from drinking, like, at all

But it was once I got older and people started pressuring me way less, plus finding myself in more circles where people dont expect that of me, that I found I actually do like to drink sometimes.

Dont get me wrong I still hate alcohol culture, Im not defending that in the slightest, in fact this is me saying I only grew to like alcohols once I got away from alcohol culture

Like, as soon as people started to accept me going "I just dont like beer" (bc yeah that was apparently a hot take and people were DEDICATED to finding a beer i would like when i was younger), as soon as people stopped expecting me to drink, I found myself comfortable to start actually exploring alcohol in a safe environment- trying out what I liked and didn't like, and having a judgement-free zone to just step away from something if I didn't want it

I dont really have a point to this post but like idk Im just happy to learn that while I still hate beer and most hard liquors, I like mixed drinks and cocktails! Who knew! Its just nice to know that when you explore something at your own pace you can actually like something, and not when its constantly pressured on you.

[rottenlightbulb]

In the rain with you

Xiao x M!Reader

Angst-ish? If you squint, hurt-comfort, idiots in love

Written with you/your so it can be read as nb (as far as i remember i made sure no gendered terms were used, if im wrong please let me know

Warnings: none?

Summary: Reader is an adventurer with no vision, during a certain bounty hunt he meets Xiao and buffoonery ensues.

This one has been in my drafts for a long long time, my writing has changed since then so just don't question it.

Today was no different than any other, waking up at an ungodly hour to venture into the wilderness and run an errand for a certain traveller while, of course, checking every nook and cranny in hopes of a hefty loot.

This time your destination was Cuijue slope, mostly to check around and find trails of a rumored lawachurl that has been set loose in the area. Not that you ever understood how these people find monsters as such in places where no one ever steps foot, but the promised mora was quite... nice, so you accepted witouth a second thought.

But then again, everything has its down sides, this time it was that as per the information provided, from who knows where might you add, elemental damage did no good against the lawachurl. Its hide might've evolved to deflect the effects of the elements and thus your friends would not be of much help.

Sometimes, not having a vision did have its advantages, though it also proved as a major disadvantage most times. People tended to disregard your skill when it came to dangerous missions, no higher than a C rank mission was ever handed to you. Not by any official that is, ever since you've met the famous traveller, and became their friend, they took notice of you and began taking you along for adventures.

Once reaching your destination you look for a place where you could leave your heavy baggage safely while scouting the area. From afar you see what is barely the remains of an old building but seems sturdy enough with some cover in case of rain, you decide it's the best place to stay considering the area around it is deserted unlike the rest of the possible shelters you came across, those were filled with hilichurls. While hilichurls were not a problem, abyss mages, samachurls and mitachurls did give you some difficulity, especially when there were more than one. Let's face it, getting trapped in a hydro bubble and then hit by a speedy geo shield miatchurl was painful and highly infuriating.

Upon approaching your temporary shelter you're greeted by the sight of two hilichurls, luckily they haven't taken notice of you yet so you opt to sneakily find out what types they were. Both seemed to be non elemental, which was good, searching them quickly you find one has a wooden shield and the other a crossbow. You sigh, the hilichurls still didn't notice your presence, gently as possible you lower your bag and unsheeth your sword. All it took were two quick strikes and they fell down before they could even grab their weapons.

After clearing out the place and setting your bag down inside you set out to track down the lawachurl. You had planty of time, they only expected you back three days from now anyway, so you took investigatin leasurely. And yet you've found more than enough clues by the time the sun started to set. Not feeling fatigued in the slightes you decide to take it a step further and find the exact spot the beats chose to dwell in.

In the eerie forest of tall glowing pillars you find the beast, to your surpise when you arrive it has already been engaged in battle but you couldn't make out with who. All you could take from the battle was that it indeed was immune to elemental damage and whoever was fighting it was either unaware or insane. None the less they were loosing badly and if nothing happens they might not see tomorrow.

Thre was no question, you will help. But, being a non vision user you had to rely more on tactics rather than charging in head first. You approach slowly from a safe distance while keeping an eye on the fight below. The lawachurl seemed barely damaged, its geo shield was fully intact while the vigilant stranger left speckles of blood whenever they landed. It was bad, you had to act quick.

Seeing as you were right above the two, you strained your eyes to find a weak spot on the shield. Once you have laid eyes on the slightest crack in the enemy's protection you empty your mind, worry will not help either way, your grip thightens on your sword as you throw yourself off the pillar, you keep your silence as you descend rapidly, a sneak attack is only that while the enemy doesnt know after all.

You land hard on top of the beast, the impact makes it stumble and roar in pain  once your sword has been sheated deep within its hide. You cling to your weapon for dear life as the lawachurl shakes its body in hopes of getting you off but you only thrust the blade deeper. The stranger who fought the beast before looks on from his spot on the ground in surprise, being able to see him from this close you realise it's Xiao, seeing his state you surely have things to say once the battle is won. You shout, adressing the beat up adeptus and warn him not to use his element, he looks puzzled but nods as he stands.

The shield slowly fades away and the shaking becomes more aggressive, you're almost thrown off time and time again but you hold on tight. Xiao charges in once more, this time without the power of anemo, and to his surprise his strikes do damage. The outcome of the battle has changed, and it's now set in stone. You jump off the beast's back and join Xiao, exchanging rapid blows untill the enemy fell and hit the ground with a loud thud.

You wipe away the sweat trickling down your face and look around for your friend finding him in a similarly exhausted state, he leaned onto his spear his mask still on, no doubt to hide his face from you, he always acted strong, but now, his body was shaking and injured. There was no way you'd play along this time. Thus you approach him and drape his arm over your shoulder witouth a word. He grunts but stays silent. After years of knowing you he knows he has no chnace once you've made up your mind and so he follows silently.

You arrive at your makeshift shelter amd bring the adeptus in lowering him down onto the ground before turning to your bag and starting to rummage through it. The silence has been broken by Xiao,

— What are you doing?— he rasps confused, you turn around with narrowed eyes staring him down before turning back to your bag with a sigh.

— Patching you up of course. I sure damn hope you know you can't say no.

—You mortals show less and less respect— he was cut off by a finger pressing against his lips, the unfamiliar feeling shutting him up successfully, you lean in closer and stare into his beautiful golden eyes, Xiao felt his face heat up slightly.

— Don't get me wrong, I do respect you. But as...your friend I'm worried for you. You should take better care of yourself.

Moving away you begin tending to his injuries, the silence is back altough broken by an ocassional hiss or grunt. Xiao has turned his head away long ago, he can't look at you, it makes him feel all farm and fuzzy and it's uncomfortable. And then there's the fact that he felt disappointed when you moved away from him, he craves your warmth but hes never going to admit it. Not untill he undershands why.

Sooner than he'd like you finish bandaging him and move to sit on the other side of the shelter leaning your head against the broken wall and staring out into the rain. Rain? When did it start raining, he never noticed. He was so fixated on the feeling of your fingers against his skin he completely forgot where you two were. He gulped and looked away, he didn't know if it was the lighting or the fatigue but you looked ethereal yet the look on your face made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

Not being able to take the painful silence any longer he cleared his thoat,

— Name, what's wrong?

Surprised that he was the one to start conversation you stare at him untill he turns away from you and you've been left facing his back.

— Don't stare.

You can't help but chuckle and grin wide when you see him peek at you. With a shake of your head you sit up properly humming, the rain has picked up more now and thunder echoed in the distance. Seems like your stuck here for a while. Might as well make the best of it.

— Nothing is wrong, I'm just a little tired is all.

He turns to face you with the nastiest glare you've ever seen as he sneers,

— No.

You blink, tilting your head slightly out of confusion.

— No?

He nods closing his eyes and crossing his arms with a wince.

— Something is wrong, I can see that. You're not yourself. I'm asking one last time, what's wrong?

— That...sounded more like a demand, but who am I to decline. So make yourself comfortable, It's a long story.

— Fine, not like we can go anywhere in this weather.

You look at him puzzled, since when has bad weather bothered Xiao? But you decide not to ask. Rather you suck in a breath mustering up the courage to follow through.

— So... lately there has been someone I started to care about. Hmm, that doesn't quite cut it, let's say I'm anxious whenever we don't see each other for a while. I'm scared that one day he won't come back.

Xiao stays silent, something in him just won't let him speak. Hearing your voice be so weak and scared for someone else made him irritated and he didn't understand why.

— It's pointless to feel that way, if you're scared he'd leave you why bother?

His response was late and harsh, you could feel his irritation and thought you said something wrong. But that didn't mean his reply left you unhurt. Maybe he figured you out and was just playing along. The thought alone made your vision blur with tears.

You wanted to respond and defend yourself but couldn't, the suffocating feeling of supressing sobs prevented you from doing so. You bit your lip closing your eyes and burying your face into your knees hiding away from what's to come. After a while you manage to croak out a reply catching him off guard,

— Do you think he hates me now?

The sadness in your trembling voice was all it took for him to stand and rush to your side afraid you've hurt yourself. Only when seeing your tears did he realize he might've been too harsh. He felt awful and that made comforting you so much harder. He panicked for a second not knowing what to do when he remembered seeing a couple, one of them hugging the other while they cried.

Awkwardly he draped his arms around your shaking form pulling you closer. You look up at him seeing him avoid eyecontact.

— Xiao? What are you doing?

— What does it look like? I'm hugging you of course. Does it not help?

Realization hits you hard, he must've seen it somewhere and the fact he replicated it meant he must feel bad for you. A small smile tugged at your lips, you returned the hug burying your face in his chest.

Awkwardly he starts rubbing circles on your back and you finally relax a little.

— I don't think whoever this person is hates you.

— Huh?

— You asked me if I think he hates you, and I just told you. I don't think it's possible to hate you.

You feel your face burning up hoping he won't notice how fast your heart was beating you stay silent.

— But you have to tell me who it is.

— Why- Why would you want to know?

— So that I can keep an eye on him. If he ever hurts you I will be sure to visit him.

Your eyes widen and you fail to keep in your laughter. He looks down at you ready to let go and leave out of embarassement, but you hold onto him tight.

— I don't think that will be necessary.

— Are you saying you don't need me then?

— Of course not! But I don't want you to beat yourself up.

— I can assure you I- What?!

— It's you, idiot. I like you.

—...me?

— yes, you.

— Oh.

[antiwhores]

You or Me - Bakugou x reader

“Its either you or Dynamight.”

The words rung through your head like an annoying song. This villain was gonna make you choose who lived and who died. You could die. And yet you almost immediately yelled out “ME!”

Angst, yandere Bakugou themes, violence, not proof read (when is my work ever tbh), etc.

I missed writing for angst.

A notorious villain, a strong and feared one, had broken into the house and held you hostage. When Katsuki came home he could barely control himself enough to realize if he didn’t, you would die to the hands at your neck.

The villain tied ropes around his hands while you were being held by his friend, another infamous villain. They sat you both down with quirk destabilizers. Not that it would do really anything bad for you. You were a civilian, with a healers quirk.The hell were you gonna do with that?

And now you both were being escorted to a portal, which would leave to the lair of the villains.

You looked over at your husband, “Calm down, its okay Katsu.” The sound of your voice had him snapping out of his deathly glare for just a second.

This was probably the most upset he’s been in his entire life so you had to say something. Every fan knew that you don’t fuck with Dynamight. But every person knows you dont fuck with his family.

Katsuki has literally killed villains, despite the “kill only when needed” rule when they mentioned you.

He had murder on his mind and the bloodlust could be felt from blocks away. The mussle over his mouth stopped him from threatening the lifes of everyone they have ever loved.

“Do you need a mussel too bitch?” The red haired villain spoke. You think his name was Port. The more powerful one was Monro.

You spoke before you could stop yourself, “Do you need your ass beat?”

Port laughed at you, “Small fry ’s just like her husband.” “Stop fucking around.” The other one yelled.

Monro walked over and bent down, “I’m a very nice guy, so I wont kill you both. But ill let you choose because either way I’ll kill him in a way.”

Your eyes widened, you knew what he was going to say.

“Its either you or Dynamight.”

The words rung through your head like an annoying song. This villain was gonna make you choose who lived and who died. You could die. And yet you almost immediately yelled out “ME!”

All of a sudden you felt cold, terrified. Bakugou’s icy glare was now on you. And oh shit was he mad- no, he was seething, infuriated with such anger that his hands lit up even through the quirk cancelers. You met his eyes and flinched. His whole body shook with anger for not just the villains but you.

The villain laughed at your choice, saying something about this being what he wanted to happen. He said something else about giving you space to chat, because he is apparently such a nice guy.

But you could barely pick out anything through Katsuki’s glare. He was trying to make you submit to him and choose yourself to live.

And before you could even register you were moving, they threw you both into a quirk canceling room and pushed a button that took of all restraints.

He was on you in half a second, slamming you into the wall by your shirt. “What the FUCK do you think you’re doing.”

Tears welled up in your throat but you swallowed them down. You had to be strong.

You couldn’t look him in the eye, “I can’t loose you Katsuki.” He grabbed your face and snatched it so hard you gasped. “I’m your husband, the hero! I’m supposed die for you! Its my fucking job!” “Exactly why I can’t let you die. You’re more important than me. People value and NEED you. Im a civilian, I’ll just be another-“ “STOP.” He yelled.

You looked up to see his hand raised at you, balled into a fist. “I’ll hurt you. I’ll hurt you so bad you won’t be able to agree to anything he says. Ill hurt you so bad you’ll never wanna look at me again.”

You almost believed him for a second, but then you remembered. Katsuki would never in a million years put his hands on you. You’ve given him many chances but he never indulged. “You wont.”

He grit his teeth so hard that you worried for his dentist. He banged you against the way once more before letting you fall. “FUCK!” He yelled.

He screamed curses as he punched at wall until he bled. He made a large dent but it was no use. But he wouldn’t take that as an answer. He kept punching until you yelled his name and grabbed him hand.

“Stop it, your bleeding. Theres no getting out of here with just your fists. Your gonna need a tank and I doubt you have that up your ass.”

Tears bordered his eyes in fat clumps as he fell to his knees. He layed his head on the floor, “Please y/n.”

He was groveling to you. Bakugou fucking Katsuki, aka Dynamite, aka the #2 hero was groveling to you.

“Please.” He chanted. You grabbed his shoulder and tried to pull him up but he was too heavy. “Stop it Katsuki!” If he kept doing this you were gonna cry. He shook his head, “I can’t live without you.” His voice was completely broken. This was an unfair fight.

Suddenly to collars snapped back on and the mussle for Katsuki. He never stopped groveling to you even when the villains came in and laughed at him.

“What the fuck? Your think caught up over a bitch?” For just a second, Monro’s finger ran over your face. And in that second you bit him so hard that his finger came off like a carrot piece.

He kicked you to the floor as he screamed. “YOU BITCH!”

Now he was definitely going to kill you. He put his hand to your face and just before he activated his quirk, you looked at Katsuki. He was breaking out of Port’s grip and trying to get to you. You knew he wasn’t gonna make it, Magma’s quirk causes instant death.

So just before you closed your eyes for good, you whispered an “I love you, so much.” To Katsuki.

Then everything went black. You were dead just before Katsuki could reach you.

[allamericanb-tch]

crimson rivers thoughts (7)

@tastetherainbow290 more!! this one is longer

chapter 12

remus pov!!

LILY MENTION i love you lily i hope we see more of her in this

oh no wait what happened

wolfstar is wolfstarring

oh no the games. ugh.

regulus pov <3 i hope he finds evan

snake jump scare

james pov already wow ok

vanity!!! she lives

them boiling the water they’re so smart i love james

taking a break to eat dinner i will be back later.

ok i am back. (i love that im saying this as if my thoughts are being shared in real time)

“you’re going after regulus aren’t you” right as always, pete.

“stop thinking with your cock” PETER you icon

regulus pov again! i hope he finds james

water!!!!! huzzah

what is this spider 😭

james pov again

omg who died

i know it wasn’t regulus but i hope he is okay

wait is the spider like the wolf things?! that’s terrifying actually

omg irene and mathias hi

james interrogating them about regulus 😭

nice one regulus look at you killing avery spider

the lovers have been reunited!!!!

reggie come on don’t kill james

“he’s absolutely gorgeous” james now is not the time 😭

“you’re hesitating, love” AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

james “if i have to tie you up and carry you there, you are coming with me” potter

why is james flirting with regulus right now 😭 read the room james

james going with regulus because regulus wont go with james

“what’s it going to be”

chapter 13

another spice warning for this chapter… more jegulus content?! or is it wolfstar. probably wolfstar. although that’s what i said last time and it was jegulus..

young jegulus ❤️‍🩹

“James has always been that infuriating mixture of wonderful and stupid” yeah that’s james.

HELP WHY IS JAMES BEAT BOXING

james. sweetie. i know you don’t want to kill the cute little family of deer but your only other option is to starve to death.

ok but why is this sad

i guess they choose starvation??

james missing sirius ☹️

“we’re a great big tragedy” that is exactly what jegulus is. you summed it up perfectly, thanks regulus

“do you think we would have gotten married” james 😭

REGULUS TRIPPING OVER THAT you know what you did james

“if it was you asking, you know i would have” ahhhhh

of course regulus ate the snake that tried to kill him. icon behavior.

eeeeeeeee jegulus

THE HANDCUFFS james get your mind out of the gutter

“mum dad look away im having impure thoughts” 😭

james doesn’t have his glasses?! how is he seeing right now

me rn: 💔

WHY IS IT ENDING HERE

i can’t even be mad about it because i love dorcas

omg dorcas!!! she’s safe

slow painful death ☹️ gotta be the worst kind

dorlene <333

why is marlene shocked that dorcas enjoyed the games when she was young. she is literally a hallow. and she was a child??

ok they’re flirting now

eeeeeee they’re kissing

ok more than kissing

“eyes up here sweetheart” dorcas im in love with you

i love dorlene this is a nice break from the arena

noooo the moment has been interrupted

fab and gid ☹️ don’t remind me

and its over.

chapter 14

im scared for this one

i really hope evan doesn’t die

“do fish even have brains” 😭 james please

james shamelessly being in love with regulus ugh i love them

of course james has a knife kink

the story <3

yeah sirius would try to eat rocks

“Your gifts at twelve were a lot different than they are at twenty-five” jamesss you

THE PARTING GIFT james you’re teasing the viewers

“everything proceeds to go wrong all at once.” oh no

evan?! i hope that isn’t you

james killed him. oh. my.

regulus is os caring ❤️‍🩹

james having a crisis

they’re holding hands omg

“all james wants is him”

MULCIBER

run joey run (glee cast version)

ouchie that seems like it hurt (wow. great observation from me.)

“when mulciber has a sword to his throat it’s not sexy at all” i would hope not?!

“he looks rather terrifying in a sexy way” james. babe. keep it in your pants you’re about to DIE

ok regulus

this is stressful. i know they both live but it is stressful nonetheless. 

yes james you go girl

HE JUST CHOPPED HIS HAND OFF???!!!!

the spear. i’m getting rue flashbacks.

I KNOW THEY LIVE BUT STILL

EVAN!!!!!!!! he’s alive and here to save the day

i love that evan calls regulus lover boy

evan is going to die and i am not ready

not regulus thinking of james as his boyfriend

“both” ahhhh reggieeeee

jegulus + evan god tier combo

my face when james calls regulus love: 🤭

NO JAMES WHAT

YOU CANT END THE CHAPTER LIKE THIS?! THIS HAS TO BE SOME FORM OF CRUEL AND UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT

is james going to go full peeta and lose his leg too

should i read another chapter….

[gizkasparadise]

What are your top five xianxia cdramas? And, on the other end, what are your top five historical kdramas (any time period - I'm not well versed in this to know the various types names yet xD)? Oh, and lastly, your top five drama recs that are the most (generally) underrated? Thanks!

nice!

TOP FIVE XIANXIA (& I'M ALSO GONNA INCLUDE XUANHUAN)

love and redemption. girl meets boy. boy's part of a cursed theatre troupe and part of masochism tango of reincarnation with girl that lasts 10 life times. girl is actually kind of the god of war. crack, gender reversal, gender fuckery at large, feminist and queer friendly. incredible OST. just all-around one of my favorite dramas ever.

lost you forever (part 1). a xuanhuan vs. xianxia, but im not passionate enough about 5 xianxia for this list lol. another drama with gender fuckery. a fantastic FL and beautiful relationship building (and unbuilding) and character-driven story. dont even need the second part for this to be a favorite!!

love between fairy and devil. all those tropes you fucking loved when you were like 13 on ff.net given a lot of heart and near-perfect execution (aside from that ending). awesome characters, beautiful costumes and art direction. super addicting and bingeable

the legends. bai lu playing a powerhungry demoness and acquiring a dysfunctional harem in the process. xu kai looking like a sad blue-haired puppy. a monk that creates an entire demon because he has 1 boner. sismance. i had a lot of fun with this one and pointedly did not watch the last 5 or so eps lol

till the end of the moon. there's parts i genuinely hate and would not watch ever again. there's parts that are fucking incredible. sort of like the main couple, i have a love/hate relationship with this drama but when it hits it really hits

honorable mention: eternal love/10 miles of peach blossoms (xianxia fuckery at its finest weighed down somewhat by tedious side plots and one of the most infuriating 2nd FLs of all time)

TOP FIVE HISTORICAL KDRAMAS

gaksital/bridal mask. set in the 1930s. inverse character arcs between the hero and villain. dysfunctional romance amped up to the nth level. high stakes, high consequences, and a cast full of well-developed and written characters. bring tissues

empress ki. girl crushing and girl bossing her way through two kingdoms, one of the best FLs of all time. with her is a besotted baby enemy emperor and a Noble Good besotted powerless king as she goes from slave to smuggler to concubine to empress. chef's kiss

the princess' man. you want feral wrecks for your male leads? female leads ready to throw down in a parking lot? if you like lovers to enemy (?) lovers and star-crossed romances this one is a must

the king loves. this one's also on my underrated list. the first 4ish eps are a chore, but if you get past them you have the love triangle to end all love triangles, interesting palace politics with a fascinating "evil" empress, and im siwan getting to go a lil unhinged as a treat. it's the definition of an idol drama but gd did i love this and i binged the hell out of it no regrets

mr sunshine. le cinema!!! an interesting time in history (1870s-1880s) with a wide range of flawed but compelling characters centered around one of the most badass FLs of all time. winner of the #1 second lead syndrome contest for me with dong mae. only downfall to this one is i felt negative chemistry with the endgame ship but the show is good enough without it

honorable mention: chicago typewriter isnt on this list because it's only kind of half a historical drama BUT OMG WATCH IT. it's in my top 3 kdrama and while it has a slow build once it kicks off it fucking goes off

TOP FIVE UNDERRATED DRAMAS

the king loves as mentioned above. i think why it has a lower rating is the first handful of eps are kind of a snoozefest and there's a bit of an upset with the romance (which i was 900% for). but it's a fucking fun ride and full of awesome goryeo palace drama adventures

kairos. not underrated, since it has decent scores on reviewer sites, but underhyped? not enough people have seen this one and it's an incredible time-travel thriller that i found way more interesting than other popular dramas of its type like signal

cheese in the trap. the ending's a hot mess, but compared to how some 2020-onward dramas are ending it's poetry. a solid adaptation of a really great webtoon, awesome cinematography, and one of the few dramas ive seen that actually capture the campus/college life experience right

discovery of romance. the emotional cheating element causes a lot of folks to hate it/jump ship, but i love this one (and gd BOTH the fl and ml emotionally cheat ftr he's not innocent in this hot mess). jung yumi + eric mun are one of my favorite kdrama duos and they kill it, and kim seulgi plays an incredible second female lead

when a man falls in love. man people HATED this one but i think it's a blast when you're in the mood for mess + gangsters. if you're into watching fucked up romances with severe power imbalances and the dysfunction that follows, this one's for you. it's not perfect but definitely not deserving of its 6.8 MDL rating (gd!)

[616nightcrawler]

6, 7, 8

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

jeanscottlogan fans acting like theyre canon during krakoa bc they did that weird fucking queerbait. like sorry guys but its not fucking happening. theyre not canon. those are two heterosexual men sharing jean grey bc she's housewifepilled and heterosexual right now. like come on

also cherik bc i know those two old men are fucking but i dont care that much and its not that deep. and i'm traumatized from people creaming their pants over james mcavoy hes not that hot and the reboot movies are genuinely just not good

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

billy kaplan. im sorry im sure hes a nice little gay boy but YA fans always acting like their boring dark hair/light hair gay couple invented the fucking wheel when it comes to comic book gays. im just so over it. and like everything i've read where he shows up was just not that interesting. YA was not that interesting. its just the kind of gay rep i yawn and turn away from i dont care about it one bit and people acting like its revolutionary when northstar was gay and interesting before billy was even a twinkle in wanda's eye is EXTRA infuriating. billyteddy just seems so disgustingly wholesome and the fact that they got married at 20 is offensive to my people (weird flighty gays in ill defined relationships). talk to me when you're so repressed you become a big evil ice monster and kill all your friends, loser

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

akihiro wouldnt stop badmouthing logan bc laura and gabby are in the room. like i get a lot of comments of this nature when i make my weekly akihiro ramble post like "ohhh he's just letting bygones be bygones for the sake of his sisters" like 1) he wouldnt do that he's bisexual and evil and loves drama and being petty and making his problems everyone else's 2) they dont give a fuck they know logan is a shitty old man. akihiro metas written by people who only got into him post-krakoa. you guys dont GET HIM talk to me when you're rereading dark avengers like a freak

i did all xmen for this one bc they're front of mind always forever but I'm gonna throw in some jojo substitutes bc i'm honestly a bigger hater when it comes to jojo:

6. bruabba its not that deep

7. fugo is not important to the plot at all and acting like he has some sort of relevance to giornos life is just lying to yourself bc you want to ship gio with someone more age-appropriate than mista. like i get it but he barely met giorno before dipping just write your au fic where he sticks around and dont pretend that they had some love connection and no i'm not reading that light novel or whatevs i dont care about this irrelevant boy

8. part 5 is not the best part. in fact its probably the weakest plot-wise with pretty one-note characters and plot twists you can see coming a mile away ESP coming off part 4 which has a solid plot. you guys just like the shippable twinks. AND THATS OKAY. but dont pretend. also jonathan isnt boring you guys are just mean and if you skip 1+2 you're weak

tldr part 5 mid