#make your choice and decide whether you want to rot or to burn.

[feroluce]

Belobog was my fave main quest but a lot of it is so. Contradictory. It's like they had multiple groups doing different shit and none of them checked in with each other for consistency. And you see this so much in Gepard's profile.

So in the main quest, they made him unfailingly, unquestionably loyal to Cocolia. Gepard's character arc is him learning to question authority etc etc. And this isn't even a bad thing; that's a story worth telling! It makes good conflict between him and Serval! And I love that we got Gepard as a boss battle and I get to see him all the time in SU!

But then you look at his character stories and it's like. The complete opposite.

According to his profile, Gepard has already HAD this awakening, long before the Astral Express, and he'd already decided Cocolia sucks. Even outside of his stories, there's a pretty damning readable between him and Pela.

He even disobeyed direct orders right in front of her- he has been disobeying orders for a while now!

So I've decided I'm marrying the two different sides of this into a 1.5k fic-ish thingy, because I think there's some fun potential there with Gepard not trusting Cocolia, but still having to pretend to be a good obedient little soldier.

Anyway. I love to think of it as like. Gepard knows Cocolia has sunk into her apathy. He can see it in her eyes every time he looks at her. She doesn't care. Not about him, not about Pela, not about all his soldiers on the frontlines giving their lives to protect the citizens. And that's... It makes him bristle a bit, but ok. Gepard can deal with this. Even if Cocolia no longer cares, as long as she does her job then it's fine. Having compassion behind an action doesn't matter as much as the action itself. If Cocolia's heart is no longer swayed, then he'll just have to care twice as hard to pick up the slack. He considers it part of his duty as a captain of the guard anyway. It's fine. Gepard can deal with it.

And then, Cocolia starts coming down to the restricted zone. Issuing direct orders.

And Gepard realizes he is in way over his head.

Because Cocolia orders him to stay back and issue commands from the ramparts, away from all his comrades, away from where he can protect them.

Gepard had thought nothing could be as bad as watching a fellow guard die right next to him. But the first time he watches someone struck by a killing blow, so far away, it hurts. Every defensive scar across his arms itches, his fingers curl in want of a weapon, the cold cannot numb his hands enough as they desperately ache for his shield. It hurts.

Gepard tries to find any reason to stay. Because surely... He knows Cocolia has lost her love for her people, but surely... She wouldn't...

One day, Cocolia orders for their gunners to advance 20 yards. There are no survivors. She almost looks like she smiles.

Gepard doesn't sleep that night.

Pela brings him the report at the end of the first month; and then the month after that, and the month after that. A significant uptick in losses, and all of it started on that first day Cocolia started overriding his authority and issuing her own orders. The ends of Gepard's pens have all been nearly chewed off. Pela outright calls Cocolia an idiot, and Gepard corrects her. Cocolia isn't an idiot. Gepard had known her through Serval, knew her through all her college years and then some, and he knows how intelligent she is. It's not that she's stupid, and it's not that she's inexperienced, it's nothing of the sort.

Cocolia knows exactly what she's doing.

She must, there's no way she could make such a horrible mess of things so badly by accident. And Pela, quick as a whip, sharp as a tack, always too smart for her own good, catches onto the meaning behind Gepard's correction without any further prompting. The tent goes deathly quiet, nothing but the wind howling outside.

"...She's trying to kill us," Pela whispers, her voice swiftly suffocated by the silence.

Gepard swallows. He can't bring himself to correct her this time. There is nothing he could say that he would actually mean.

His gaze drops, back down to his desk and the reports on it. The names aren't listed, just the numbers, but Gepard knows them, knew them, and there must be something wrong, something he's missing, because why, why would she-? What could this possibly accomplish-?

“Gepard! Focus!” Something snaps right under his nose, and Gepard startles, eyes instantly honing in on Pela's irritated face as she leans over his desk. She holds his gaze for a moment before she huffs and begins to pace, wedges a knuckle between her teeth and bites like Gepard hasn't seen her do since cadet school.

Pela angrily strides from one end of his tent to the other, words hissed between her grit teeth. “What are we going to do?” In the dim lighting, Gepard can just barely see the damp spot of blood weeping under her gloves. “We need a plan.”

“A plan?”

“Wh- Yes, a plan! Unless you want more people to die!” Pela rounds on him then, all the wrath of a blizzard, winds roaring and snow sharp enough to cut.

“We don't even know-”

“What does it matter?! She killed-!!” Pela cuts off with a garbled noise when Gepard leaps up from his desk, hastily shoves his hand over her mouth. The prosthetic, not the flesh one, because he knows better than to assume Pela won't seize the opportunity to leave teeth marks in his skin.

“You're right. I'm sorry, I'm sorry; you're right. But you need to keep quiet.” Pela quirks an eyebrow at him and Gepard can read the question in her face. “Because we both saw what she did to Serval,” he hisses.

It's amazing the snow plains haven't thawed out yet, the amount of heat Pela can put behind a glare. The mere mention of Serval, and the smoking ruins Cocolia had made of her life and career, have her bristling up like a riled cat. The sudden hot breath she takes fans fog across his metal skin, and Gepard wisely keeps it in place until Pela finally sighs and reaches up, taps her fingertips against the back of his hand.

The second she's free, Pela bats him away and then her knuckle is right back between her teeth again, Gepard leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed to watch her resume her pacing. “If we spread the word, she'll have us discharged and make sure we can't even touch the frontlines,” Pela's voice seethes like an open sore. Gepard nods but keeps his silence. He knows better than to get in her way.

“And if you and I are both out of the picture, Belobog is fucked.” A little harsher than how he would have put it, but there's no denying that they're both important to the city's survival. Pela has the restricted zone running as efficiently as ever, and Gepard had become the youngest captain on record for a reason. “We need to keep this tight under wraps, at least for now… It can't leak to anyone higher up the chain.” Another nod. “Serval might know other discontents…” Another n-

Gepard's head snaps up. “No.”

“No what?”

“No. We're not involving Serval in this.”

Somehow, even the same tone that leaves entire squadrons shaking in their boots has never worked on her. “You're not deciding that for her, Gepard.”

Pela hadn't seen the worst of it, though, back when his sister had just been banned from the Architects. Serval's pride hadn't allowed it. Pela wasn't the one to find her passed out bottle still in hand, hadn't been the one to wash the sick out of her hair or carry her to bed. 

Serval still has trouble thinking clearly when it comes to Cocolia, still can't quite bring herself to be objective. And Gepard maybe doesn't want her to be purely objective- but he would worry a lot less if she thought twice before she acted more often.

“At least let me be the one to bring it up to her.”

“Whatever, fine,” Pela gestures affirmatively at him as she paces past, and Gepard sighs. Good, at least that's one thing he can help.

From there, it's a lot of hemming and hawing and frustration. Cocolia has them under her boot, and Gepard and Pela both know it. Even with the way she's been cracking down on freedoms lately, Cocolia is still, overall, liked by the people. It's unlikely anyone would believe them. They don't even have solid proof, because most people don't know Cocolia as well as they do and won't see the clues in the same light. 

The Fragmentum has been ramping up in recent years, too. Everyone is struggling just to survive as is, they can't afford a fight on two fronts. Gepard is a damn good captain, one of the best for that matter. But they're at a massive disadvantage, his experience is narrowed to fighting a defensive battle against monsters, that's all he's ever done. That's all anyone there has ever done. He has no way of finding first-hand knowledge for taking the offensive against a human opponent, and if he goes at this blind, there's no way he'll get everyone out unscathed. He's going to lose people. He's going to lose a lot of people.

He'd never thought before that Cocolia would have it in her to have someone killed. And with this new knowledge, he has no guarantee she won't go after Serval or Lynx if she decides to retaliate.

Gepard has to remind himself to breathe when he realizes this.

Pela writes down every name the two of them can come up with. Lists and lists of names and groups and anyone they can think of who might be an ally in all of this. They memorize every bit of it, make their plans of who to talk to and when. Gepard watches the sparks reflect off Pela's glasses as they burn the evidence together.

Pela finally leaves, far too late to make it home, but says she wants to stay in the restricted zone anyway to investigate. Gepard watches her make her way in the direction of Dunn's tent, watches her back until she's out of his sight and squashes down the urge to follow and keep an eye on her. His tent feels empty.

In the morning, Gepard is up before the wake up bells. He drags himself out of bed, leads his soldiers through their morning training. The same people gravitate to each other everyday. Friend groups and training partners. There's an ongoing rivalry between a few squadrons that everyone bets on. Some of them have lockets around their necks, keepsakes, mementos. Some of them wear wedding rings.

Gepard is suddenly, painfully aware of something acidic clawing at the inside of his throat, of a heavy weight low in his chest that blooms, takes up room until it threatens to spread his ribs. His mouth tastes of bile and blood.

He rearranges the schedules. Puts himself down for every open patrol into the Fragmentum, makes sure he'll be on the frontlines every single time Cocolia visits.

He only hopes that it's enough.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

POV: You are a perpetual and you had a long term romance with one of the primarchs (something between 100 – 150 years). Although the relationship proved itself useful and even pleasant while it lasted, you ultimately grew weary of your partner('s antics) and are now actively ghosting him. The question is... How well will he take you disappearing on him like that?

Tag List: @kit-williams, @druidwolf21

I thought about this question for a long time. I think it doesn't matter whether the reader is a perpetula or not. What matters is that she leaves the primarch.

The best reactions would be from Vulkan, Jaghatai Khan, Corvus Corax and Rogal Dorn.

Vulkan will be sad about your choice to leave him. But he loves and respects you, so he lets you go. Jaghatai Khan hates himself most of all for the fact that Chogoris joined the Imperium. For choosing slavery over freedom. So he decides that you also chose freedom.

Corvus Corax also loves and respects you. However, this does not mean that it will not affect him. Most likely, he will fall into an even deeper depression from what a monster he is. Rogal Dorn will accept your decision with all the fortitude he has. But it is unlikely that he will open his heart to anyone again. Perhaps he still believes that you will return to him.

Alpharius and Omegon would also most likely not resist your wishes. They would not try to bring you back. If you want to break off relations, then fine. But that does not mean that they want to break off… yes, they do not interfere with your life. But that is because they carefully monitor you and do everything to make sure that you live comfortably.

Magnus the Red, Sanguinius and Roboute Guilliman. I do not think they will like it. Most likely, they will try to bring you back and as gently as possible. They will try to talk to you, find out what the reason is.

Horus Lupercal, Fulgrim and Lorgar. Just like the previous primarchs, they will try to bring you back as gently as possible. Only there will be much more manipulation. Oh, they will use their charisma of the primarch to the maximum.

Leman Russ, Ferrus Manus and Lion El'Johnson. They will simply bring you back. They will not touch, they will not arrange manipulations. They will just wait for you to stop acting like a crazy cat and understand that you will be better off with them.

Perturabo and Konrad Curze. Not only will they be angry, hurt and horrified by your departure. Not only will they kidnap you. They will lock you in four walls. They will torture you psychologically. Maybe even physically. You belong only to them. You must love them as they love you. Leaving them would be the biggest mistake of your life.

Angron and Mortarion. Like the previous primarchs, they will kidnap you and lock you in a room. But their approach is completely different. Angron will ignore you for the most part. Sometimes he will come into the room and stare for a long time. He made you his slave, although he hates slavery. And yet he cannot allow you to leave him. You are his salvation. The best thing that has ever happened to him. The entire Imperium will burn, but you will not leave it.

Mortarion will often visit you and cry. Ask why you left him. He will promise to be a better man. Just don't leave him okay? The whole ship is trash, a rotting wound and waste. You're in this wonderful room like a fairy in the Garden of Eden. He doesn't deserve you. But he needs you. Let him be near you.

[gojot-t]

Welcome to the Shoujo Cafe!!

A valentine's day special event!!

Dear customer, have you ever imagined yourself experiencing a good old shoujo manga? The confessions as sweet as honey, the most extravagant or even the most discreet I love you, the demonstrations of love... when we see this we can't help but sigh and wonder when it will be our time, right? Luckily for you, at this little Valentine's Day event, you can experience all of this with that character who has a special place in your heart!!

From the angst that leaves you crying for days to the tooth rotting fluff, regardless of your taste, here is the costumer who decides!

. . . Before entering the Café ?!

how do i order?

Below will be classic scenes/popular tropes and a short list of prompts. You will be able to choose a scene and a phrase per order with the character of your choice, then I will write a small scenario (around 600, 1k wc) about it. I will give more information about this at the end of the post.

how long will the cafe be open?

The cafe is now closed!! thank you everyone who participated! ♡ If you want to know how the production of your order is going, feel free to ask me about it. Sometimes I end up procrastinating a lot and need some ear tugging (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )

what and for who you can request?

Pretty much everything and everyone. I will write for both men and women. If I think I can't write the character you asked for, I'll let you know, but at the moment I can't think of anyone. I won't write nsfw.

Now that you know all the rules,

let's go to the ordering!

arranged marriage ˎˊ˗

Oh, the wedding. One of the greatest demonstrations of love and devotion anyone can choose to make... or is it really a choice? Could it be that behind all this laughter and polite caresses, there is only cold indifference and someone you have vehemently sworn not to love? Or can time really heal all and can love be cultivated just like a flower blooms in a garden? Could it be that all along, behind that cold persona, they couldn't have been happier to finally be able to call you "theirs"?

♡⸝⸝

beach scene ˎˊ˗

warm sand on your feet and the cold sea water, there is no better environment to relax and enjoy the moment. They just have to remember to close their mouths while they watch you in your bathing suit enjoying the sun. Oh, wait! It seems like the sunscreen has already come off of you, you're always so careless, it seems like they're going to have to apply it again, tsk tsk! Of course, they also couldn't pass up a good old beach volleyball match, but the loser will have to give as many kisses as the winner wants!

୧ ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

being locked together ˎˊ˗

The perfect request for those thirsty for touch. The forced proximity, bodies pressed against each other and their breath on your neck tickling your skin, the tension is so much it could be cut with a knife. If you just move your face a little, you'll finally be able to kiss those pink lips... But be careful! This action can have dangerous consequences!

♡⸝⸝

summer festival /

watching the fireworks together ˎˊ˗

The perfect idea for a first date or even a first kiss! The lively atmosphere and the delicious smell of food in the air, if you ask them, they don't think any of it compares to the view that is you today. So beautiful in your traditional clothes and lips stained with the red of the candy apple, when the sparkles of the fireworks illuminate your face in the far corner where you both are, they find themselves completely mesmerized by you.

୧ ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

slow burn ˎˊ˗

A classic choice for romantics at heart. Pining in secret, whether it's to protect you or it's simply not the right time, they know that it's best to keep those feelings to themselves. But when you smile so sweetly at them, the three forbidden words might escape their lips before they even know it.

♡⸝⸝

confession! ˎˊ˗

the essence of valentine's day! At this time when love floats in the air, there is no better opportunity to confess to that loved one! Heart beating fast in the chest and sweaty hands, what do they want to tell you by looking at you with so much intensity?

୧ ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

second chance romance ˎˊ˗

Maybe things just weren't meant to be, or maybe yall were too naive to make it work at the time. But none of that matters now, that's what they tell themselves. Even though they still remember the feeling of your lips against theirs and your favorite food, now you're just another page turned in their lives... Right?

♡⸝⸝

fake dating ˎˊ˗

What to do when your family members start bothering you about finding a partner? Rent one, of course! At first it seemed like the perfect plan, but when the touches on each other's skin start to last a second longer than they should and suddenly those gazes seem to contain a secret behind them, you wonder if this is really going to work.

HOUSE SPECIAL !!

(you will be able to chose two characters in the house special!)

love triangle ˎˊ˗

Unfortunately, we don't choose who our heart longs for. With such conflicting feelings, what would be the best solution to this mess? Is a relationship with both possible? Or is life not a fairy tale and you will have to make the bitter decision of choosing one? Why are the two of them suddenly cornering you against the wall like that? ...Was this their plan all along?!

Looks like you've already decided on your drink! How it was? Difficult to decide? Without further ado, the final step is the topping!!

. . . If you've already decided on the topping, that means your drink is being made! You just need to confirm at the cashier and then rest as much as you want until it's ready. Despite the delay, dear customer, if I don't specifically refuse your order, that means it is being made!

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ You can request multiple times, but like i said before, it will only be one option and character at a time. The only exception will be in the "love triangle", where you can choose two. the only condition is that the characters must have canonically interacted at least once (it's to make the author's life a little easier here, okay? ><). Another thing I would like to add is that the descriptions below of the scenes/tropes are just a little inspiration, you can decide the plot of the order if you want! the more details the better! And specify whether you want a female or gender-neutral reader.

With all that being said, i hope everyone will like this silly event i decided to do! Don't be shy to make a order! (also, this is actually the third time I'm trying to post this. i really hope this time it will show up in the tags)

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

LMAO, granny is a queen!

Granny is the smartest person in this house and will not be so easily manipulated 🤣🤣

Molan really screwed herself here in a multitude of ways by setting up her sisters for punishment.

***

Aww, these babies 🤗

***

God, he's cute, but then he also comes out and says things like that and I can't decide whether or not to smack him.

I am on Manniang's side here. Poor woman.

Imagine your husband, for whom you risked your life and bore him two children, having this conversation right in front of you and you having to enthusiastically agree that yes, you don't mind if he marries another woman whom he'll place above you 🙄🙄

Murder. Murder for all of them.

***

So, find someone who is weak and easily manipulated because no self-respecting woman with any choice in the matter will agree to this.

Disgusted by everything going on here.

***

Again. I realize she has no choices here if she wants to live and her kids to eat, but jfc.

Team Manniang here. All men and their enablers can rot.

***

Ha! Three cheers for TGCF and Sanlang too! 😄

***

LMAO, I love him 🤣🤣

He's a dog, but he's cute and has the game down pat!

***

Aww, they are stupid cute, no doubt about it 🤗

***

LMAO, I love that he had to come and beg his first wife for this bs anyway 🤣🤣

Make him squirm, Big Madam! Make him pay!!!!!!!

***

I am cackling 🤣🤣

The biggest punishment for Molan, though, will be the fact that they are pulling her out of the academy. I know she is mean and awful, but she is the definition of wasted potential. If she had been born in another age, she could have been great.

***

LOL, what is her fucking endgame?

THERE IS NO CHANCE THAT SHE WITH ALL HER "EXPERIENCE" DOES NOT KNOW WHAT POLITICS ARE GOING ON BEHIND THE SCENES HERE.

***

Murder, Big Madam!

I keep telling you, you must resort to killing them all! Swallowing your resentment like this for years, you will only end up with an ulcer.

***

The irony of someone illiterate being an authority in education 🙄

Hell society.

***

LMAO, she is so lazy, but it is kicking her two brain cells into gear to figure out how to work less and be pampered more in the future 🤣

***

LMAO, love the aunt 🤣🤣

She's insane, but she has the spirit! Also, considering how many times I've begged people on this show to start resorting to poison, I can see her point!

***

Xiaodie? 💚💚

I'm so glad we get to find our what happened to her!

***

Poisons, lady.

Teach them to brew poisons. Nothing will cultivate their disposition better than getting rid of a shit husband. Or an overbearing mother-in-law. Or the fifth concubine he brings into your house.

***

Oh, shut up.

I am always inclined to be on her side because I love this actress and this entire system is bs, but she's just so unpleasant. She will be her own downfall because she will burn all bridges and have no one in her corner when she needs it.

[ghostjelliess]

25 Things I hope my (currently nonexistent) child understands by adulthood:

1. Two opposing things can be true at the same time.

2. Your reality is like a floating harbour: it is only as stable as you make it, but some flexibility is necessary to survive the waves.

3. Hope and healing are often humiliating first.

4.Real hope and real love require courage—that's why people say it's not easy, or you know it when you feel it, because it's scary.

5. You never grow out of grief, but you will grow around it.

6. Not everyone's monsters look the same; learn to identify yours, ask before you fight what you think are someone else's, and never assume someone is without monsters just because you can't see their scars.

7. Recognize your own happiness; most intangible things you will want can be gotten by sincerely giving them first: compliments, love, communication, affection, etc. Become the person you want to be: who you are will always be someone between who you were and who you want. Know how you like to love and be loved, what excitement and fulfillment mean to you, and how your understanding changes as you grow. The world will try to convince you that life is too hard because this benefits capitalistic control; believe in yourself first, challenge yourself first, understand what your happiness and exhaustion look like first, then build upon them—your awareness will exempt you from the propaganda.

8. If the problem is not money or health, you CAN do something about it right now, even if it's just getting more information, asking questions, or attempting to communicate. If the problem is money or health, be educated; all gangs work the same, all games follow rules, whether its government taxes or corporate insurances scheming you out of your rights, when the problem is money or health, patience is necessary and knowledge is power.

9. You are not entitled to forgiveness, but you are obligated to apologize when you have caused harm.

10. Say it out loud when others have hurt you, but don't let them weigh you down; you will not always understand other people's actions or criticisms because you would never make their same choices. Trust that someday they will be confronted, then drop the anchor and be free, your peace is your responsibility now.

11. It's okay to rest from being brave. It's good to cry. Comfort is important, but too much stagnation inevitably leads to rot; keep moderation in mind and don't get caught in the illusion or excuse of trying to try—move with sincerity and intention. Put in authentic effort and self-reflection as you evolve your identity, and you will easily outrun shame and live without regret.

12. We are all islands, you decide how your bridges to other people work, what you expect of those you're connected to, and how much work you're willing to do to maintain them. Often when we feel disconnected, it's because our bridges have crumbled, but you can start with a rope bridge and upgrade, and you can always add new bridges when old interest and commonalities fade between friends or family or relationships. You can also change your expectations whenever you want; if you decide there are too many flimsy bridges or one bridge is taking up too much of your energy without the other person's effort, it's okay to let them go. It may be lonely on the island sometimes, but you decide your expectations of the bridges now—you always get to choose who does and does not connect to your island. Happiness does not automatically come with love: you are not the cause or responsibility of others' happiness, and your value is not measured in bridges. If you don't like your island, you have to rework the soil. We will all regarden our islands at some point, for ourselves or others, for better or worse, but you can always start over, you can always change. If you find yourself frozen and comfortable in the numbness, it's time for sledgehammers—break the ice, plant new trees, build new bridges, the warmth will burn at first, but the addiction would drown you eventually.

13. There is no such thing as actual linear thought, there are no measures of intelligence, art and science are never diametrically opposed but dependent, and taxonomies will always fail. The world is a balance of order and chaos, there will always be waves to ripple your reality, how you ride them, how you build your foundation, is up to you. Some people are okay surfing, others need anchors and buoys and beaches because our understanding of safety and comfort are relative to our experience of suffering and happiness.

14. You can only be as happy as much as you are willing to suffer. You can only love as much as you are willing to grieve, trust as much as you are willing to be betrayed, and hope as much as you are willing to fail. This can break people, or it can bring fortune and strength to the brave. Goodness and suffering are relative. The laws of positive attraction and karma are all based on this open willingness to fail or expect good of the world, to notice it, and to be grateful for it. Look for the good, point it out, stop for the rainbows, cheer for the heroes, surround yourself with your values/interests because you do control what influences you; be careful little eyes what you see, what you look for, and what you find, because those who seek catastrophe live in much greater fear than those willing to face it whenever it comes.

15. There is no one way the world works, except that it is not fair and we should try to make it fairer.

16. If there are two wolves fighting inside you, feed both wolves; do not sacrifice part of yourself without understanding its value.

17. When it's all too much, return to nature: see what you see, feel what you feel, hear what you hear, smell what you smell, taste what you taste, and touch what you touch. Ground yourself back in the understanding that you are an animal among animals, simply an earthling occupying Earth. If that doesn't work, find the stars.

18. To understand the world, observe it: listen to other people, look at textures and patterns, watch animals interact, read diverse stories, and ask questions; don't be afraid to fail new things, but be respectful when you try them.

19. You will make mistakes and other people might forgive you faster than you forgive yourself. It's okay, it will be okay, you do no deserve suffering. You are neither owed suffering nor forgiveness. If you find yourself with chipped shoulders, then resculpt your arms, it's your job to monitor the cracks, it's your responsibility to heal; scars and open wounds are not the same.

20. The world is not made only of journeys and races forward or getting ahead. It is an ocean: some people swim, some people float, some are born on yachts, others on land, but there are always new places to explore, new directions to go. Don't get caught up in the competition or the illusions, just keep your head above water, and ask for help when you can't. Do not expect of others, but graciously understand the world as it moves around you; do not assume of others, but kindly inquire about their sufferings, their solutions, and their direction.

21. If you decide on a partner, you are choosing to navigate the seas with them, tying your boats or innertubes together, accepting whatever anchors they're carrying. No matter how you fight or adapt or compromise (and you will fight and compromise). You are simply two people riding the waves. There are only a few problems to actually fight about, and when you figure out how to communicate those, you will still encounter storms, but with the confidence in your crew to tackle the waves or doldrums and survive together, to care together, and to navigate that sea of life together.

22. Ask for help. Say when you hurt. Show the cracks. Let someone else put on the band aid. Know what good hugs are; give good hugs.

23. It's okay if you break dishes or cars, they are replaceable. You are not.

24. Rebel when it is right, be kind whenever you are able, let the world continue to fascinate and amaze you as you grow, and seek out hope. Existentialism, relativity, and nihilism are all symptoms that you're consciousness is zoomed too far out; adjust your lens sometimes, explore the distance, look up close at your immediate surroundings, but don't forget to look in front of you, whether you like it or not, you are of this world and your participation is not a factor you can control, you impact the space around you, even if you remain unmoved. You have been made to exist in the same way as the dandelion and the eagle, and just as these you must decide where to put your energy.

25. Ignore all these and live by your own rules, child. This is what living will teach you.

[dimepdf]

Hi!! I love your work 🤭 Could you please do an Argyle x reader smut where Argyle is a virgin and a major simp lmaooo

WON’T BITE. + ARGYLE

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? summary. your boyfriend Argyle was the sweetest guy you'd ever met, but as his first girlfriend, you knew you'd have your hands full. author's note. i made a discord server that you should totally join and help me convert more stranger things fans into Argyle simps.

[ ❥ ] pairing. argyle x reader

[ ❥ ] word count. 2.5K

[ ❥ ] genre. 18+, fluff

[ ❥ ] warnings. mature language, black fem reader because i said so, reader with stretch marks, soft ari, first time, established relationship, grinding, tooth rotting fluff, slight dom reader, glow in the dark condom, the bright yellow pizza shirt, not proof read.

Argyle was the perfect boyfriend for you. He knew how to make you laugh, and his laid-back personality instantly mellowed out every time you worried about something.

Your boyfriend is practically your voice of reason when deciding most things in your life as if you were a pretty confusing bitch.

Argyle knew you like the back of his hand, having fallen head over heels for you ever since your classmate Jonathan introduced you two. You and Jonathan had been asked by Joyce to pick up Will and Jane from the mall; neither you nor Jonathan had your vehicle, as Joyce was off buying something for dinner.

Jonathan made a quick phone call to someone over the phone as you watched a large delivery van pull into his driveway from his living room window.

Still recreating his shocked face as you swung open the door instead of Jonathan. Argyle was a stuttering mess when he first laid his eyes on you, a stuttering mess about how you looked so much like an angel floating down from heaven in slow motion.

You found out later in your relationship that the boy was just high out of his mind when he first saw you and thought he was being welcomed to heaven.

Your friendship started on a wonderful footing. Having always hung out as a trio, there would be times where you would catch Argyle staring a little longer than necessary or the many times he would offer to drive you home, claiming that it was on the way to his home, though you knew his house was in the other direction. 

You weren't bothered by his kind of desperate efforts to flirt with you. If anything, you welcomed it, having grown close to the goofy and cheerful man, soon finding yourself spending time with him without Jonathan.

It was natural for you to confess your feelings for each other, and you've been dating since then.

You would think that Argyle’s nervousness would die down the more you spent time with him, but it seemed like he had just fallen more in love with you as he was considered your boyfriend. You weren’t mad at his behavior. 

You had found his stutter and inability to make eye contact without smiling adorably peppering his face with kisses each time he would stumble over his words the moment your eyes met to be endearing.

But the longer you had grown to grow together, the more the thoughts in the back of your head started to get louder.

You were still, in fact, a teenage girl with needs. And those needs were becoming almost unbearable as you became not only emotionally but also sexually attracted to your boyfriend.

As you know, Argyle would never pressure you into doing anything, whether sex or not. Peer pressure just wasn’t his thing. Any time of pressure in general as well.

This was why it took a couple of months for you two to get comfortable enough with each other to move to the next stage. It wasn’t your choice as you wanted to jump his bone.

Seeking an opportunity to finally snuff that ache burning in your lower parts, but you wanted Argyle to be comfortable. Letting him set his own pace with things as you guys took a more "safe" process, by which safe means Argyle planning out the time and date he wanted to have sex with you. 

Though being extra prepared didn't stop the nervous pit swelling inside of him, his fingers shaking as he pulled you on top of his lap, pausing and pulling away every minute to reassure and ask you "is this okay?" covering his anxiousness with his questions though you knew him better than that.

Seeing his overly comforting personality inside, he was just one big anxious teddy bear, as you would reply every time as he went on by pecking his lips and smiling at him.

His rough moans were being swallowed down your throat, with every movement of your hips grinding against his colorful denim jeans. shredding his white and blue blazer to just his bright yellow pizza shirt. 

You could feel his fingers trembling against you as you arched closer against him, feeling the thumping pace of his heart at your touch as you grabbed his wrist and placed it on the high of your waist.

Argyle pulled away from your kiss, his eyes fluttering open as his mouth opened to speak, not being able to find his words as they closed only to open again.

"Ari, I don’t expect you to be some super sexy sex demon. I’ll tell you what I like and help only if you want to go any farther." Feeling suddenly vulnerable under your gaze as you sat on his lap.

Argyle shifted his hips up against yours, his body seemingly under a spell as his mind said one thing but his body wanted another. "I—I want to…it just, I don’t know, you just make me so nervous." 

Still, under the effect of your beauty, you were the first girl to even be in his bedroom other than his mother. 

Let alone being the first girl to ever sit on his lap and kiss him the same way he craved for you. "How about you set the pace then? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable."

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, drawing him closer as his eyes glinted almost like a puppy with a new toy, ducking your head closer to his ear, kissing his lobe before whispering, "Ari, touch me please."

You didn’t think you were the type to give orders during sex. Your usual fantasies just involved you getting railed to your heart's content by your celebrity crushes. Your lewd daydreaming usually involves your partner being in charge, but it was obvious that Argyle was going to need to be taught a lot of things with your simple guidance. 

His body reacted first upon your request as his hips thrust up for friction, making him practically shudder under you as his shark hands trailed under your shirt. His fingers felt like ice as they traced against your skin. It felt nice compared to your heated brown skin.

His fingers dragged along your stomach, almost like he was still starstruck that he was touching you, wanting to memorize every curve, dip, and stretch mark. 

His fingers groped at the plush skin taking note of how your thighs flinched as his fingers dragged against the bud of your nipples. Reaching to unclasp the bra from the back as it fell from your shoulder.

Argyles instantly leaned in to press his lips to your chest, leaving a trail of harsh kisses that unintentionally left marks that would bruise your dark skin later in the day.

You let him do his thing, craning your neck and arching closer to him. Allowing him full access to your body as his tongue swirled around his nipple, your body reacted fast as you flinched hard. 

You were so perfect in Argyle’s eyes. The more he kissed you, the more it was intoxicating the more he felt.

The way you curved just so in his touch, how your eyes fluttered shut with every sigh and moaned that slipped from your lips. How your curled hair looked in the light that peeked through his curtains and lit against your brown skin.

He just wanted to shout your name at the top of his lungs he concluded that you were just so fucking perfect in his eyes it was no surprise how much his boner strained against the denim of his suddenly tight jeans.

 It was no help that you were grinding against him, your thighs pressing against his as he tried to control how much his hips would buck with every swerve of your hips but it was all just starting to become so unbearable.

He needed you so badly his thoughts clouded with want as the noises you made grew louder he felt like his head was going to explode from just the cute little sounds you made.

 There was slight confidence in his touches, the way his hands trailed over your body was a task in mind though there was still a little tremble in his fingers that you admire about him, a reminder of the dork that you had fallen smitten for. 

The More his hands would wander the less confidence you had over the control you had over him, as you grew desperate for more of him.

“Ari please,” you whined. With your hand taking his wrist and trailing his hand down towards your underwear, you were becoming impatient, grinding your hips against his crotch rougher than you started. 

Argyle had a second of thinking before he realized what you wanted from him, he knew he was supposed to touch you down there he just didn't know how to stifle his moan grabbing the collar of his shirt as you leaned back against the mattress. 

His hands trembled as he helped you fully undress, his fingers sliding between your legs as his head ducked in the curve of your neck. 

His touch halting as it teased the heat of your entrance not sure how to progress any farther you took the silent interoperation and guided his hands towards your clit, spreading his fingers as you bent his index and middle finger inside of you, finding a comfortable pace to pump his fingers in and out of you with listening to his staggered breathing in your ear as he circled your clit with his thumb. 

As he had found his rhythm, leaning your head back against the mattress your mouth gaped open as you moaned clenching around his fingers.

Argyle littered kisses along your neck and collarbones wanting to worship your body as much as possible convinced that if he were dreaming that he was going to make the best of it. 

Wanting nothing more than to be naked next to you, Argyle managed with minor difficulty to get rid of his clothes. Opting to slip under the blankets, both a little self-conscious with your bare bodies suddenly exposed. 

His fingers curled inside of you on accident as your chest rose and moaned loudly.

Argyle's eyes widened as he was so turned on at the moment that it was becoming unbearable to want nothing but to milk those same sounds out of you. Curling and thrusting his fingers out of you as you squirmed under him.

 Wrapping your arms around his neck and drawing him down for a kiss, you were less merciful as you deepened the kiss regarded his need for air as you kissed him like it was your last.

“Wait…wait.” instantly pulling away, glancing up at Argyle as he leaned on the top of you, his breath harsh as he was practically gasping for air. 

An alarm ringing in your head, afraid that you had done something to make him uncomfortable, your eyes scanned over his entire body before looking back at him.

 Your worries washed away as your boyfriend leaned on the other end of the mattress where his pants sat on the floor and dug into his pockets pulling out a string of condoms.

You didn't question why he had so many or why they were glowing in the dark only laughing with each other as you rolled it onto him and ducked under the blankets the glow of the condom being very dim as you helped him thrust inside of you, coaxing a moan out of both of you

. “The more I listen to those sounds you make, the more I feel like I'm losing my mind man.” grunting as you felt his breath against your neck, his arms holding himself up placed on both sides of your head. 

You felt amazing, swearing that he was bound to melt from how warm you felt around him. The overwhelming need fluttered with every thrust as his chest lay against yours, convinced that your pussy could kill him, he would die a happy man. 

As much as you wanted him to do his thing, you craved more stimulation as his naive rhythm was just a tad bit too slow for your pace, budging your hand against his chest as you repositioned the two of you so you sat back on top of him, the blankets covering your shoulder. 

 “Every time I look at you I swear I fall more in love.” his confession breaking a smile from your lips as you like looking down at his flushed brown skin the way he looked up at you like you were a goddess making your knees weak.

 You both were so in love with each other. Your pace was less slow yet still gentle as Argyle's eyes would switch to watching your breast bounce to his hand that you trained to circle your clit, your hips rolling against him. 

The closer you rushed to your orgasm, the more you realized how much Argyle was holding back to finishing with you. An adorable look of pure concentration was written on his face as he focused on his fingers, pleasing you. Leaning in to slip your tongue into his mouth as you whimpered. 

Your hips twitched as the small little gesture seemed to throw Argyle over the edge as he whimpered against your mouth. Your orgasm tumbled right after his as your thigh clenched shut against his, your fingers clenched in his long brown hair. 

You slowly rolled off of him, letting him slip out of you, before curling up next to him. He was breathing heavily, obviously exhausted, as it was the only form of working out he had done since he had to do gym class. 

But he’d never felt more content than when your naked body curled up beside him. Wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you onto his chest, cuddling you close as he peppered kisses along with your head. “Legally, there's no way you should be allowed to make me this happy.” 

his comment muffled as his face was buried in the curls of your hair, his nose nuzzling closer to you. “Ari, you are such a simp.” You chuckle placing a kiss in the middle of his chest.

[ ❥ ] taglist.  @loveshineslikethesky @willowwonka @sh3lov3dyou @spenglerslime @misaamaneswifey @eichenhouseproperty @anastasiasvv @wheremygorliesat @sacr3dm1lk @r0se1111 @trinkettray @tougly2care @the1andblue @begay-do-crimes @moonstarteaxx @vxid42 @eddiemunsonswife21 @eddiemunsonbby @lluvin @dwaynesluvr @slutforfics @missmaximoffsblog @clowncrawler @bored0-0 @mr-magic @teehopper @mi-yo-0 @meidix9 @stickysnail @spookybabey @1efleurr @kewlbeans-22 @dasespicyaghh @lollolgetrecked @femmefelis-blog @pinkladyy @sultrylies @sagethephantom @kyyellaxii @ghoullful @passivehippie

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[starlessskies94]

Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)

Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up with really bad amnesia. He can’t remember his wife, Ellie, or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?

Pairing: Joel Miller x OC

Note: Hope you enjoy the chapter; please leave a comment and let me know what you think <3 

Chapter Eight

It all started with a note. 

The next they were hightailing across the damn state, all the way back to where their deep dark mess of secrets and lies had started. There was no time to stop and question why Ellie had gone back; there was no need. They already knew. The poor girl was simply looking for answers that everyone else had refused to give her. 

The closer they got; the worse their fear became. The dread pulling tighter up the throat like a noose around the neck. It was like riding towards their own execution for the terrible crime they’d committed, of robbing the whole world of something they didn’t believe they even deserved. Because they didn’t. Not at the expense of Ellie’s life. 

Even now after everything; Joel and Adaline would always agree on that. 

When they finally made it to the outskirts of the hospital; Ellie was sitting alone. The pair barely bother to halt their horses before dismounting and rushing to their daughter’s side. Joel quickly pulling her into a hug. 

“The hell were you thinkin’? Joel uttered. Taking the words right out of Ada’s mouth as she moved to join the two. “Running off in the middle of the night like that…you talk to us.” He continued. “You don’t just leave a goddamn note-“ He didn’t get to finish as Ellie pushed him away.

And Ada knew this was it. Their time had run out and now there was no going back. 

The teenager paced on unsteady feet; her hands fidgeting with her jacket sleeves before finally getting too frustrated and just pushing them back up passed her elbows. It was a common habit Ellie had picked up as she’d gotten older; they’d both noticed. Whenever Ellie was stressed, uncomfortable, nervous or upset; she would fidget with her hands. Whether it was pulling on jacket sleeves, picking at her nails or just absentmindedly running her fingertips across the now hidden bite mark on her arm. Just as Joel did with his watch. It was always fascinating to Ada how much Ellie could be like Joel without even realising it. 

Over the years; the girl had picked up a lot of the man’s mannerisms. Like father, like daughter she supposed. Unfortunately that also meant she had Joel’s temper. And it was certainly a force to be reckoned with. 

The girl continued pacing, almost not daring to look back at her parents. Her mind racing a mile a minute as she contemplated what to say. How to string her words together. The endless list of questions that plagued her for years. 

‘What happened to the Fireflies?’

‘Why had Ada and Joel lied about it for so long?’

‘Was Marlene dead?’ Ellie had a bad feeling she already knew the answer to that one; it had always been an assumption she sort of accepted, considering how loyal the leader had been to her cause. If she had threatened the young girl in any way in order to get her cure; Ellie knew for a fact her mom wouldn’t hesitate to cut her down. Or maybe Joel had killed her; it didn’t really matter now. The Fireflies were gone and so was their precious cure. 

She just needed to know why. Looking back at the rotting ruins of the Hospital; Ellie finally settled on her words before turning to face her family. 

“Tell me...what happened here.” She started with a shaken breath. Resisting the urge to pull her sleeves again as hands began to tremble once more. “If you lie to me one more time, I’m gone. You will never see me again.” She took a breath and it caught in her throat. The air thick and tense, Joel and Ada staring blankly at her with sad eyes.

“But if you tell me the truth, I’ll go back to Jackson.” She promised. “No matter what it is.” It was at that point as her parents shared a look; that Ellie realised she had no idea just what she was promising. 

Her mother took a reluctant step towards her and Ellie had to stop herself from flinching.  

“I...uh…” Ada stuttered, clearing her throat several times before trying to speak again. 

“Mom...just say it.” 

The older woman glanced back at Joel as he nodded woefully. Ada turned back to her daughter; her brown eyes welling with tears. 

“Making a vaccine...would have killed you. So we stopped them.” She said, gesturing to herself and Joel. The older man dropping his eyes to the floor as the shame flooded his face. 

Ellie’s blood ran cold. She gasped out a strangled sob that burst from her throat as it burned. She felt sick. Her chest tight and heavy. The weight pushing down so deep she couldn’t breath. How dare they?

HOW FUCKING DARE THEY?! 

Taking such a choice away from her! Taking away the chance for her immunity to mean something. To make the losses mean something. Her pain mean something. But they had decided to take her away from all that and it wasn’t fair that she’d had no say in any of it. 

She collapsed letting herself sit atop an old box, old equipment the Fireflies had left behind maybe? She didn’t fucking care anymore. She pulled at the front of her shirt in a feeble attempt to give herself room to breathe. But her chest continued to tighten. Her airway closing around the lump forming in her now dry throat. Her eyes streamed with tears, blurring her vision.  

“Oh my god…” She choked. Her hand clutching her chest as her breath became quick and short. Her stomach churned; hands and feet turning cold and numb. 

“Ellie...sweetheart…” The voice was echoed and distant. But she flinched when her mom reached out to console her. Her whole body snapping to her feet as she pulled away. Her hand lashing out to shove her back.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” She snapped. Ada's lower jaw quivered as she held back her own tears. The hurt was plain and raw in her eyes looking back to Ellie. “I’ll go back, but you and me...we’re done!” She screamed, her eyes narrowing at both Joel and Ada. Ada gasped a sob of her own as she took a cautious step towards her daughter but Ellie was already backing away. “Ellie...please.” She pleaded. “Just let us explain.” The teen scoffed bitterly; she wasn’t interested in anything they had to say. Her nostrils flared in anger, her lip snarled as she shook her head in defiance. 

“I don’t fucking care! I hate-” 

“Hey! Stop! That’s enough!” Ellie's eyes darted to Joel raising his voice as he moved to stand beside his wife, his arms wrapping around her shoulders. Pulling her close as she buried her face into his side. 

“Don’t do that. You wanna hate someone for this? You hate me, okay?” He clarified and somehow the audacity of Joel only made her angrier. “Don’t put this on your mother. It ain’t her fault.” 

Again Ellie scoffed bitterly. How dare he tell her how to feel. Who to blame. They were both at fault for this. She’d trusted them and this was what they’d done?! How could she ever see them in the same way again. “Are you fucking kidding me Joel?!” 

The man sighed heavily, Ada wiping away her stray tears as she looked back at her daughter with bloodshot eyes. Joel was quiet for a second, his eyes flitting back between Ada and Ellie before he finally spoke. “I pulled the trigger, not your mom. You wanna blame anyone then you blame me. Please don’t punish her.” He uttered pathetically. His whole body seemed to sag with sadness and Ellie felt sick the longer she looked at him, she didn’t even bother dignifying his plea with an answer as she shoved passed him and headed back towards Shimmer. Not even bothering to spare them a glance as she mounted and forcefully spurred the horse into a canter and rode away back towards Jackson without another word. 

Ada and Joel watched her go. Both feeling defeated and tired.

The Texan glanced back to his wife when she slid her hand into his and squeezed gently. “You didn’t have to do that.” She whispered. “I wished you hadn’t.” Joel felt his heart ache at the broken look on her face. Her nose and eyes rubbed red from her tears, Her face slightly puffed from the lack of sleep they’d lost from riding through the night to find Ellie. He softly kissed her forehead before dropping his gaze to meet hers. 

“If she has to lose one of us...I’d rather it was me.” He said. “She needs her mother if she’s gonna get through this.” Ada sighed, collapsing against his chest as her exhaustion caught up with her. “She needs you too.” She muffled into his jacket. “We both do.” 

He ran a hand through her hair as he hugged her close. In that moment it hit him just how grateful he was for this woman in his arms. He often thought about his life before Ellie and Adaline and he didn’t like it. There had been no way of knowing how things were going to play out the way they had when they’d met in Boston, but Joel knew without a doubt he wouldn’t have changed a thing. This was a life he’d happily choose over and over. At the beginning after losing Sarah, Joel had given up on the idea of family and love. After losing her, there was no getting it back. But then they’d come barrelling into his life...literally. Ada, eager to protect the young fourteen year old from the strange man forcing his way through the door, with Ellie in toe ready to strike with her pocket knife to protect her then mother figure from harm. If anyone had told him he would then go on to marry this woman, he’d have called them insane. Now he couldn’t imagine life without her. He didn’t think he could live without her. He didn’t want to. 

He squeezed her tight as her own arms found their way around his waist squeezing back in return. 

“Don't worry about me; I ain’t going anywhere darlin’.” He looked down kissing her then let his hands run the length of her arms, taking her hands in his, walking her towards the grazing horses. “Come on, let's head home.” 

Ada didn’t reply as she followed, the two quickly climbing back on and turning towards the same path Ellie had taken. Their horses breaking into a gentle trot. They rode in silence, both afraid of the fall out that awaited them when they returned to Jackson. Tommy and Maria would want to know what happened. If they hadn’t already noticed they were gone, Joel wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. He figured Tommy would understand but he was pretty certain, he hadn’t told Maria the whole story yet. He stole a glance back towards Ada as she rode beside him. But she just looked utterly broken. Her eyes set dead ahead of them, hands gripping her reins like a vice and legs rigid from the panic she’d woken up to in the night; when they'd found Ellie had disappeared. Joel looked back at the path before them. It would be a long ride back to Jackson. He just hoped and prayed that given some time and space...maybe...hopefully; Ellie would eventually understand why they’d done what they had done. And if he was lucky she might even forgive him for it. 

[iraacundus]

The Sins of Angels

devil!Taeyong soulmate!au 

Genre: fluff, fantasy, smut, angst Words: 10k

warnings: sex (incl. degredation), swearing

better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven - Paradise Lost, John Milton 1667

You weren't a bad person, but clearly, you hadn’t been a great one either. You had to figure that was the case as you stood in a really long queue at the front desk of Hell. There were some people around you crying and screaming, but most people just stood in stony silence, waiting until they reached the end of the queue.

It was a casual four weeks later when you reached the front, which for Hell you supposed was quite quick. You wondered if it was meant to unsettle you, to form part of your eternity of torture, or maybe that's just how long bureaucracy in the afterlife took.

“Name and time of death?” You finally heard be called out to you. You had to think for a second, the hours of standing in the queue had really started to rot your brain.

“It’s y/n and I died on the 3rd March 2020 at 9:58pm” You said, having no idea why you knew your exact time of death, but the desk man wasn’t surprised and therefore it must have been something dead people just knew. The desk man handed you a gold coin.

“Straight ahead to the gates, tell them you’re going to the second circle,”. You took the coin and nodded. “Have a terrible time,” he said, sounding so bored that you were sure he was having a worse time.

No sooner had you step away from the desk to contemplate your impending doom before he called you back.

He stared down at the old 1980’s computer in front of him in slight disbelief, hitting the side of it three times just to make sure it was actually working properly. Seeing that this made no difference the man shrugged and motioned for you to come closer to the desk.

“Just had a message from the boss man, turns out your wanted down where the real actions happens,” he said taking back your coin. He placed it carefully back in its box before reaching down below his desk and fiddling for a moment.

“Could you come round here and stand beside me?” he asked, you noted his tone had become much more polite ever since he had read his computer message.

“First interesting thing to happen at this desk in ninety years,” He said looking at you, eyes not blinking for a slightly uncomfortable amount of time before pointing down to where he had been fiddling.

“This is a passage to the City of Dis. It’s a ten hour-long fall and it hurts when you get to the bottom, but it’s that… or ten hundred years of torture to get there and we don’t have that kind of time.”

“Don’t we have all of time,” you questioned, Hell had always been marketed as an eternity of suffering.

“You mean to say,” the man began, “That you would actually prefer to endure the ten hundred years of torture?” He was incredulous, you didn’t think his eyebrows could lift any faster.

Neither seemed like a good option, but you couldn’t possibly die twice so one hard fall had to have been the better option. You looked down at the endless dark hole, trying to contemplate what was being proposed here.

“You don’t really have a choice, please jump down the hole, you’re really holding up the queue, I’ve got targets to meet.”

You couldn’t ascertain whether the last part was a joke or not, but you had realised that overthinking wasn’t helping anyone. You took one last look at the man at the hell desk before launching yourself into the depths of Hell.

You screamed for about the first minute, before realizing it was pointless, you had a long while to go until you hit the ground. You pondered about why you might have ended up where you were, cursing that in real life you hadn’t bothered to study the nine circles of hell, that might have given you a clue.

About three-quarters of the way through your fall it started to get lighter again, but also hotter, it was exhaustingly hot, worse than Death Valley in the summer hot. You felt like you had been falling for much less than a few hours, you weren't sure if time worked the same way in eternity. You almost wanted to cry but the thought that an eternity in Hell could be worse though, which somehow comforted you. Even though you knew that it could get worse and probably would.

-----

It was a while longer until you finally hit the ground. It hurt like every single bone in your body had broken. You just lay there, contorted.

“Oh... That looked like it hurt!” You heard someone exclaim from above you. You half-opened one eye to see a boy staring down at you. All you could notice was that he was very good looking, something you had noticed about desk boy too now that you thought about it. Every bone in your body may have shattered, but if all the people in hell, looked like the men you had seen so far... your complaints were limited. A fact which truly made you think you had really lost any sense of reality.

“You need to get up ... you haven't reached your final destination.” He said. You swore under your breath before pushing yourself onto your hands and knees, something that induced the agonising pain all over again. The good-looking guy just stared at you with a wicked grin.

“I have all the time in the world babe quite literally infinite time, but the person we are going to meet does not have infinite patience. And- and I can’t stress this enough - he's really fucking scary so stand the hell up,” he grabbed your arms lifting you to your feet, shaking his head, “get the hell up, did you not appreciate what I did there.” You stared at him blankly.  

“My humour is wasted in this bloody city.” He complained.

You said nothing, you had literally no idea what to say to this man, if he even was a man.

“I’m Yangyang by the way,” he continued, “one of this city’s finest fallen angels, fell straight from heaven into the ladies' hearts.”

Now you were standing up you realised the light you had seen was just endless fire, the only break in the fire was a stone path that didn’t seem to have an end, at least not an end that you could see.

The fire was filled with burning souls in the distance, the screams you could hear were unnerving, you wanted to somehow disappear. Yangyang didn’t even seem to hear them, the screams of hell must have become just a faint music to him over time, like radio music in a shop.

You followed closely behind him as he led you along the fire-lit path. As you got closer to what you presumed was the city of Dis the sound of a distant roar of voices got louder and louder, but there was still no end in sight.

“What did you get kicked out of Heaven for... if it’s not rude to ask?” You were trying to create any sense of distortion from the horrifying surroundings.

He laughed, the fire reflecting against his face that still held the same wicked grin.

“I’m not offended and even if I was, this is Hell, people are rude all the time it doesn’t matter. Here in Hell you can do what you want babe. There is only one person youwill have to listen to; Lucifer himself. Most people listen to the fallen angels too, but I fear you will end up being more important here than me.”

You knew in theory who Lucifer was, fallen angel, cast out by God. Somehow though, you hadn’t expected him to exist even after you got to Hell, you assumed he was just created to scare children and adults alike. The idea of fallen angels was also a foreign one to you, you hadn’t even known there were more people like Lucifer.

“And to answer your question, I got kicked out of heaven for being too fun,” he said, laughing mostly to himself. You doubted that was the official reason he got kicked out, even if he decided to justify it as such.

-------------------------

The walk came to an end at the edge of a vast canyon. At the very bottom, you could see a very grand building surrounded by markets and various other buildings. In the rock face, there were many entrances and balconies which people seemed to live inside.

“We don’t have to jump do we?” You asked, feeling like you had done enough falling for at least the next six lifetimes in Hell.

“There is a lift.”

He said like it was very obvious, and you were stupid for even suggesting otherwise, even though he had seen the end of your bone breaking fall.

The lift wasn’t like any modern-day one, more like one you would have seen in a mine shaft in centuries past, just bigger. There was a large queue for the lift which Yangyang didn’t seem at all bothered by. He grabbed your arm and walked through the queue, the sea of people parting as the jumped back in what appeared to be fear. You couldn’t understand why; Yangyang seemed nice enough.

You stepped into the lift and clung to the side as the door shut. The metal groaned slightly before beginning to lower. You could see each of the levels more clearly now, there were four distinct areas above the ground floor.

“The city is the 6th to 9th circles of Hell,” Yangyang explained, “For people who committed worse crimes, treachery, heresy and all that.”

“What is the second circle?” You asked back, hoping he could provide you the answer to your biggest question.

“Is that where you were headed?”

You nodded.

“Just before I was told to jump down the hole and ended up here, I was originally meant to go to the second circle.”

Yangyang just laughed but didn’t bother to answer the question and you weren’t brave enough to ask again.

The metal began to screech again as the lift hit the ground floor and the gate began to open. The people waiting at the bottom also immediately moved back when they saw Yangyang step forward, pushing you off the lift and past the crowd.

Yangyang set off walking, through market, after market in which everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. There was the odd scream of pain here and there but there were more screams of laughter, more voices chatting and bargaining.

As you got closer to the centre of the floor the buildings got bigger and grander, some of them almost palatial.

“That’s my house” Yangyang said pointing to a large building to the right of you. It looked quite nice, even if a drunk man had passed out on the front steps.

“You can get drunk in Hell?” You asked.

“Ninety percent of the people here are drunk ninety percent of the time.” Was his answer.

You walked for a few more minutes before reaching the gate that surrounded the grandest building of all, Devil House, Yangyang informed you. The gates were opened by two guards as you approached, how bowed at you both as you passed. Yangyang walked you up to the door before knocking six times.

After a minute or so the doors opened seemingly by themselves. Situated behind the doors was a grandiose entrance hall made out of black marble, a gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

You looked at Yangyang expectantly for him to explain what would happen next, but he said nothing, the wicked grin gone from his face. For the first time he actually looked somewhat scared.

You suddenly noticed a man standing at the top of the staircase. He was staring straight down at you with a glare that could have killed, ifyou hadn’t already been dead.

“My Lord,” Yangyang managed to choke out, he stared down at his feet, his hands fidgeting. When you looked back away from Yangyang, the man, who you guessed was the Devil, was standing right in front of you. Blood red hair, perfect jawline, flawless skin - out of all of the good-looking men you had seen here so far, he was the most perfect.

He reached out and kissed your hand.

“Welcome to Hell, my love, my name’s Lucifer, but you can call me Taeyong,” he said.

-----------------

You woke up in a bed with some of the softest pillows you had ever felt, you sat up slowly, taking in your surroundings, not knowing how you had ended up there. The bed you were on was the only piece of furniture in the completely white room. There was a door at the far end of the room and a window that looked out onto the fire and darkness below.

You stood up carefully and walked over to the window. You could see the guards still standing by the gate and a few people fighting in the corner of the street.

A light knock came at the door.

“Come in?” You replied after a brief pause, realising that the person knocking was assuming this was your room.

The door swung open and Taeyong, Lord Lucifer, walked in. You froze where your stood by the window, even though he was standing about ten meters away from you.

If Taeyong sensed your fear, he chose to ignore it,

“I hope you're comfortable, I had one of the women change your clothes, I figured you would prefer that,” he said. You looked down, where your previous dust-ridden clothes had been was now a silk nightdress, you raised your eyebrows slightly. It was a beautiful item of clothing but slightly on the revealing side for meeting a man you didn’t know.

“Isn’t that very nice of someone who is meant to be the Devil?” you asked him. He looked you dead in the eyes and tilted his head slightly,

“If you want me to be mean darling, that can be arranged... but I would prefer if we could be civil.”

You nodded, once again lost for words. You couldn’t remember much about your life, but you were pretty sure that in life you had always had something to say. Yet since you had gotten to Hell you were more often than not lost for words.

You started to remember the events of the previous span of time, you remembered falling and meeting Yangyang. Yangyang made you feel comfortable, you had many questions and hoped maybe he would be able to answer them.

“Could I maybe talk to Yangyang,” you asked. Taeyong shook his head.

“No.” His lips rested in a firm line; you were starting to understand why Yangyang said he was someone to be afraid of. Yet with a life of torture already assured you felt you had nothing left to lose.

“I’m just gonna say it,” you began, ‘what is going on here, like what’s with the whole situation, I don’t remember anything about my life, or even how I ended up in this room, all I know is I jumped down a hole, met Yangyang, who was definitely scared of you by the way, and ended up here right now. I know that you are the all-powerful Lucifer, but you won’t let me see the one person I vaguely know or trust.” Taeyong just smirked out your outburst.

“You don’t always get what you want in Hell and I wouldn’t make a habit of trusting fallen angels” he replied.

His lacklustre reply stirred a deep sense of anger within you, you found it really hard to tolerate people who thought they were better than others.

“Is this my torture? Because if so, you guys are using weird tactics these days... like rather unorthodox if you ask me, I think I might rather just be burnt.” You instantly regretted the comment about being burnt, “But also please don’t burn me.”

To your surprise Taeyong half smiled at your comment.

“I’m not torturing you; I assure you that definitely involves classic techniques like burning people to death. In fact, I would argue that fact fate has left you lucky.”

“What does that mean?” You asked. Taeyong shrugged.

“There are worse things in death than having to marry me.”

You blinked about ten times in a row, the words gone from your mind again, blank.

“Sorry one second,” you said, holding up four hand, “can you just elaborate on that, because last time I checked I wasn’t engaged to any devils.”

“Not any regular devil, theDevil.” He corrected, before looking down at the expensive watch that was on his wrist, “I have to go and sort some things out, feel free to look around the house, just don’t leave and don’t interact with any of the staff around the house.”

You didn’t have time to formulate a reply or protest before he was gone, door shut perfectly, as if he had never even been there.

You sat around in silence for a few minutes before becoming curios about your surroundings. Your room was totally empty so you hoped the rest of the house wasn’t as such or it would have been a rather dull house tour.

Fortunately, as soon as you stepped out of your room you were faced with a very different sight. The corridor had a plush red carpet lining the floor and paintings and tapestries lining the walls.

You entered room after room, most of them just empty bedrooms, though none as empty as yours had been. As you ventured a little further into the house you began to find more interesting rooms.

There was a corridor that constituted only of studies another that had what seemed to be conference type rooms with long tables and lots of chairs. Around the other side you finally came across the dining room where there was food laid out on the table. A whole feast that you didn’t dare touch for a variety of reasons.

A man stood in the corner of the room, when he saw you enter, he bowed down just as the guards had, something that unsettled you.

“In case you wanted to eat,” the man explained, gesturing towards the table. You noticed there was only one place set for eating, at the same time you wondered if the concept of being hungry even existed in Hell. You felt your stomach grumble slightly, answering your own question.

You gave a weak smile to the man before sliding into the seat. This could be where the torture begins, you thought. It could have been poisoned food or turned into rotting flesh when you ate it, yet it looked so appetising you could hardly believe that would ever be the case.

Still unsure of weather to eat it or not you turned to the man,

“Do you know where I could find this guy called Yangyang?”

“I think we both know that I can’t tell you where Yangyang is,” he replied. You looked back to the food pressing your lips together, it had been worth a shot.

“I would be happy to try and answer any questions you have instead, my name is Yuta, I am a personal assistant of sorts,”

“Another archangel?” you asked. Yuta shook his head.

“Nope, just a demon.”

Yes, just a demon, of course.

Yuta watched you staring at the food and quickly guessed as to why you are hesitant,

“It is perfectly safe to eat; you are an honoured guest of hell.”

“That is exactly what someone who wanted me to eat the torture meal would say,” you replied accusatorily. Yuta laughed to himself slightly,

“If you don’t want to eat it that’s also fine, you will starve for eternity but that is, what as this other demon Johnny often says – not my problem.”

You still wondered if it was reverse psychology, but the hunger pangs had really started to kick in, so you decided to eat the food regardless.

You quickly realised that it wasn’t poisoned and that it was actually some of the most delicious food you had ever eaten.

After you had eaten for a while you looked back at Yuta who was still standing there watching you.

“How come I am allowed to talk to you and not Yangyang?” you asked.

“I don’t make the rules,” he replied. Yuta followed the word of Taeyong just as much as everyone else did, the devil really did seem to have a lot of power.

You stood up from your seat, as you did the dishes and food vanished at a click of Yuta’s fingers. Demon magic. When you headed towards the door Yuta remained where he had always been, unmoving.

“Nice to meet you, I suppose, I’m y/n by the way.” You said just before you left.

“I already knew that,” Yuta grinned. Everyone you had met in Hell acted weirdly, both in general and specifically towards you. You couldn’t figure out why there was no torture or why you had supposedly ended up engaged to Taeyong.

You had thought about asking Yuta more questions, but it seemed like Taeyong didn’t want you to know the answer to your questions and therefore none of his buddies were ever going to tell you, so you didn’t bother.

You went another three weeks before you saw Taeyong again, or anyone else for that matter. The only person you had seen was Yuta who watched you eat every day, would enter into general conversations with you about himself, and tales of demons but would never answer any questions you had or explain anything useful.

“I really need to talk to Taeyong,” you asked him, pretty much pleading at this point.

“Not an option,” Yuta replied.

“Where is he?” you asked for the ninth time that day.

“Hell,”

“Yeah very funny bud. I am not marrying him, I’ve only met him once and then he fucked off, not really the kind of behaviour that would make him a good husband.”

“He will return soon,” Yuta said, clearly trying to hide his own laughter, as a Demon he thrived on your suffering ever so slightly.

“You are annoyingly vague.” You sighed, “Can we not just break the rules, like this is hell can we not just sneak out and go and do something, this house is boring there is nothing to do and I would still really like to talk to Yangyang.”

Yuta pressed his hands together before speaking,

“No, we cannot just ‘break the rules’ Taeyong is all powerful I would rather not piss him off. It is very unboring here, I still have two million years’ worth of top-quality stories lined up, not all of them mine, I will admit. You only met Yangyang like one time, no need to make it twice, furthermore he will not answer your questions either, he too fears those who should be feared.”

You banged your head against the table repeatedly.

“This is definitely Hell!”

“You are rather dramatic y/n.”

You could see Yuta out of the corner of your eye and though he was laughing you could tell he also felt sorry for you.

“I will see what I can do,” he relented. You stopped hitting your head, got up and ran over to Yuta, throwing your arms around him.

“Thank you!” you said in earnest.

At that moment the door on the other side of the room opened and Yuta froze.

“It seems I have been gone too long, my fiancé is turning to other men,”

You let go of Yuta and spun round.

“She was hugging me because I offered to find out where you were…” Yuta tried to explain but you cut him off.

“Yeah well I have only been stuck in this boring house for a whole month with only him to talk to so if we are close that is your own fault.” You shouted at him.

“Don’t shout at him, that’s not gonna end well,” Yuta whispered to you aggressively.

“I am just a little bit angry, no, a lot angry and seeing as I cannot have any friends or meet any people, I will be voicing them to the only two people I am allowed to talk with.”

Taeyong said nothing, he strode over to where you were, grabbed your hand and dragged you from the room.

Yuta looked alarmed as you left. Taeyong led you down several corridors until you reached one of the grandest offices you had seen yet. He let go of your hand and slammed the door behind you.

“I would appreciate it if you were not rude to me in front of the people who work for me.” Taeyong said.

“I would appreciate it if you weren’t such an elusive dickhead.”

“I had … work to attend to,” he said, hand running through his bright red hair.

He was standing only a few feet away from you causing you to notice just how good looking he was for the first time. He had a cut in his eyebrow and a jawline that was stronger than anything.

“Whereas I was stuck here, doing nothing. Yuta is nice and all, but his stories get kinda old after the first thirty. I just don’t understand why I can’t talk to anyone or leave this house, why I can’t know anything about hell.”

“I…” Taeyong almost started to explain but then shut his mouth again, leaning with his hand against the door.

“What are you afraid of me finding out?” you asked him.

Taeyong sneered.

“If I told you then it wouldn’t be a secret.” He paused for a moment before walking towards you. “I can’t decide,” he said, “whether to risk falling in love with you.”

“So, you have a bad relationship past?” you guessed. Taeyong said nothing so you assumed you had hit the bullseye.

“See, now we are getting somewhere,” you said, “if you explain things to me life is a lot easier and I won’t resent you as much.”

Taeyong continued walking towards you and you walked backwards away until your back was pressed up against the wall.

“We aren’t alive.” He corrected, you could feel his breath on your face, he was inches away.

Taeyong’s face looked pained, confused.

You don’t know why you did it, maybe it was the lack of physical contact, or the slightly sexual nature of some of Yuta’s stories but you felt like it was the right choice.

You place your hands on Taeyong’s cheeks, pulling his face down towards yours, lips together. You had only meant for it to be an innocent kiss at first, just a few seconds. You didn’t know Taeyong, but you wanted to take away the pained look on his face for just a second.

But as your lips touch you felt a deeper desire, your lips moving against his with a slight sense of urgency. Taeyong’s hands moved to your waist pulling you closer towards him, his grip like iron.

After a minute or two you pulled away, realising that you hadn’t breathed, that you didn’t need to breathe, a surprising perk of Hell. You opened your eyes to see Taeyong staring down at you, the pain still in his eyes, but now mixed with something else, something more positive, you didn’t know quite what.

“I’ve never had a girl kiss me first before,” he remarked. You smiled at him slightly.

“Well I just…” you couldn’t really explain why you did I, you didn’t know, because you still resented this man quite a lot., “It doesn’t mean I forgive you,” you assured him.

Taeyong leaned down and placed a final peck on your lips.

“You have made my choice for me though, there is no way I can avoid falling in love with you now.”

“Yuta are we friends,” you asked him.

“Why do you ask, please don’t ask me you break you out again you know I can’t,” he said, sounding genuinely sorry.

“I just mean if I told you something personal because I needed advice you wouldn’t need to tell Taeyong right? As long as it’s not my plan to break free. I have no girls here to talk to, or even any other boys, you’re my only hope,”

“I don’t see why I would have to tell Taeyong something like that no, so you can count me as a friend on this one.”

“I kissed Taeyong.” You blurted out the second he finished speaking. Yuta blinked a few times, nodding his head slightly.

“Did I really need to know that?” he asked.

“Do you know why I would have done that?”

“This, is the single worst question you have asked me yet, how would I know how your brain functions?” Yuta joked. You sighed, picking up your spoon and placing it in the ice-cream in front of you, that even with demon magic was fast melting due to high temperatures.

A few minutes later you walked back out and started searching the house for whatever room Taeyong was in.

You walked through room after room, to the point where you were not even sure which way was back anymore.

Eventually you came to a room with a door that must have been made out of gold. The door had a picture carved into it of an angel falling from heaven into the fire below. Your feet stopped. It had to be the room you had been searching for.

You knocked loudly but there came no reply, so you pushed the door open slightly, peeking into the room. At first it seemed empty, just like yours had been. There was a wooden bed with a canopy, that looked like one you would see in a period drama. It was ornate and stylish with two bedside tables either side.

Those three pieces of furniture were the only ones in the room.

You felt bad about intruding into someone else’s space, but it didn’t stop you, if you had been a better person you wouldn’t have been there in the first place.

You walked curiously over to the bed and sat down on it, the bed was perfectly made, not even a crease as you ran your hands across the bed covers.

You stared down at the bedside table, something you didn’t have in your own room. The one on the left side was empty, not even a dust particle to be seen.

You rolled over the bed to the other drawer, expecting it too to be empty.

You pulled it open to see a few things inside. There were a few letters which you felt like you shouldn’t read, a pen, a picture of Taeyong and Yuta and at the back of the drawer a small red book.

It wasn’t something you were proud of, but you couldn’t help but peek into the book. The first page was inscribed with a verse:

And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him.

So, the stories were true. But as you flicked through the pages you only became more confused, some were written in a language you didn’t understand or even recognise, some were filled with cursive handwriting recounting stories, much like the ones Yuta had told you, but it was the final few pages that confused you the most. There were paintings of five girls, each on a separate page.

Each had their name written underneath, a date and a timespan. The first 120AD - 3 months up until the most recent 1827 – 2 months.

In the last entry to the book you saw your own face. It was a picture of you sitting in a café in the sunshine, it had to have been from your life. You were drinking iced tea and laughing like nothing could have stopped your happiness. The date 2020 but no time span.

You didn’t understand what it meant entirely but you weren’t stupid either, you realised you were not the first girl who had ended up here.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the book was snatched away from you. You stared upwards to see Taeyong, eyes dark and unforgiving.

“What gives you the right,” he began through gritted teeth, “to look through other people’s personal items.”

He placed the book back in the drawer.

“I would say you can’t come into this room when I’m not here, but I assume you have already seen all there is to see,” he laughed darkly.

“Who are those girls, what do those dates mean?” you asked, still curious and somehow still unafraid, even though the man in front of you looked ready to kill.

Taeyong said nothing. You placed your hand over his lightly.

“I can only become close to you if you let me, and if we are to get married for whatever mysterious reason of fate, we should be close.”

Taeyong moved his hand back and looked away.

“We don’t need to be close; all that book proves is that in this cursed place, fiancé does not mean future wife.”

“Would you stop being so damned elusive for a fucking second?” you said. Taeyong lifted one eyebrow smirking.

“You don’t understand,” he said.

“Yeah I don’t understand if you don’t tell me.”

Taeyong’s smirk faded until he just looked sad. He looked over at you and smiled slightly.

“You can leave the house if you want, make some friends, just don’t leave the city, it’s not so fun outside the walls of Dis, its where the real sinners go.”

You were surprised, freedom wasn’t what you expected to gain from your trespass into his personal space.

“Why now?”

“Because even though you probably won’t choose hell in the end, I at least don’t want you to resent your time here.”

You walked round the bed to sit closer to him but as you sat down, he stood up.

“I think it is easier for both of us long term if what happened yesterday… doesn’t happen again.” He looked down at the time, “I have some rogue demons to chastise, I’ll get Yuta and Yangyang to show you around town.”

Five hours later you were drunk at a vodka bar in hell where Yuta had disappeared with some girl about an hour previously and you were left laughing with Yangyang until your stomach hurt.

“You have way better stories than Yuta,” you joked as Yangyang recounted a mishap between him, a goat demon and a man who had been sent to hell mostly for his obsession with stealing collectable plates.

“and you,” he replied, “are much more fun to be around than any of Taeyong’s previous ladies,” he said, covering his mouth as soon as he said it, “well fuck,” he finished off.

“Do not fear young fallen angel for I already know of these previous ladies, as in I know they exist and nothing else.”

Yangyang breathed out a sigh of relief.

“If I had let that secret go, well I would probably have been stung by bees for the next couple hundred years, every day at three o’clock.”

“There must be worst tortures?” You prompted. Yangyang shook his head.

“Don’t ever underestimate hell bees,” he said in a statement that sounded like he had his own history with said hell bees and that you shouldn’t press further.

“I know of the ladies and I guess that’s what makes him act weird towards me, but I don’t understand what happened.” You explained.

Yangyang looked around to see who was looking before motioning you to come closer.

“I can tell you, but you never heard it from me,” he said, “I must be drunk to be telling you this. Basically, Taeyong is cursed, not by God that’s just this whole hell thing but in a personal argument with an angel named Taeil. Taeyong once stole Taeil’s fiancé back in heaven, so when he was cast down to hell Taeil vowed to take revenge. Ever since as soon as a girl dies, who is someone Taeyong would definitely fall in love with, Taeil make sure they are sent right to his door, calls them the brides of hell. Well with the first one Taeyong didn’t realise it was Taeil, he just thought he had found his soulmate. Yet three months later Taeil shows up at the gates of hell und summons her fourth, Taeyong following close behind. He offers the girl a chance to go to heaven to have everything she ever wanted, that her going to hell was just a mistake and she is meant to marry him in heaven. And the girl agrees. Because as much as she loved Taeyong she wasn’t willing to give up the idea of eternal paradise for him, same for the next four girls… and now you. With the last one he didn’t even try. He didn’t talk to her once he just kept her locked up until Doyoung came. When she left, she said she hated Taeyong, which hurt him just as much as when he was betrayed.”

You took another shot of vodka.

“Well that… is a story and a half,” you remarked. Yangyang shrugged.

“Did the first girl really love him?” she asked. Yangyang nodded.

“They were happy together, Taeyong isn’t a bad guy to the people he loves, he’s not the same person he was a couple hundred thousand years ago, he’s not a great guy by any means but he was kind to the girl and they loved each other, the first betrayal is still the worst.”

“How could she do that to him if she loved him,” you asked him, you had only known Taeyong a short time and for most of that you had resented him, but you had started to understand him.

“Heaven isn’t something you refuse,” Yangyang said simply.

Before long you were both back to laughing and drinking, increasingly incapacitated. An hour later Yangyang was dragging you back to the steps of Taeyong’s house. He knocked on the door, lazily calling out,

“Taeyong, come and get y/n! I want to go to bed!” he said.

Taeyong appeared at the door a few moments later to see you lying on the ground semi-conscious, cocktail umbrella still in you grasp.

He leaned down and picked you easily, something you welcomed after Yangyang’s drunk drag.

“I’ll take you back to your room,” he said. You shook your head laughing.

“No!” you protested like a stubborn child, “I want to sleep next to you, in your room.”

Taeyong looked somewhat shocked.

“I already explained it would be better if we just kept out distance,” he began before you cut him off. You put your finger over his lips to silence him.

“Starting today,” you said, “I am going to stay with you forever, starting right now, in your bed.”

Taeyong sighed, continuing on to your room before placing you down in your bed, he tried to leave but you grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Please don’t leave me alone again,” you asked him quietly, “I don’t like being alone in this place.”

Taeyong’s eyes soften, his resolve defeated, he sat down next to you in the bed.

“I really won’t leave you, I won’t go with that mean Taeil guy,”

“Yangyang is so dead,” Taeyong said.

“We’re all dead silly.” You lay back in the bed, pulling Taeyong’s arm so he fell down to lie facing you.

“And you will leave, they all do,” Taeyong explained. You blinked a few times.

“I’m not them, I’m y/n, I’m my own person. And anyway, I bet none of them ever kissed you first.”

“Why did you kiss me?” Taeyong questioned thoughtfully.

“I really don’t know I just suddenly felt like it was the right thing to do in that moment, like fate had been leading up to right then and there.”

“I don’t believe in fate,” Taeyong sighed, “we are all just puppets of people like Taeil.”

“For someone who has power over a whole dimension that is a very defeatist attitude.” And before he could protest anymore you placed your hand on his cheek, your fingertips brushing a few strands of his hair,

“Am I really not different to any of those other women? Maybe their choice wasn’t wrong, maybe they just weren’t right for you, maybe I am,”

“I’m scared of you in particular, I have watched parts of your life on earth and I could see myself with you more than anyone before, and that terrifies me,” Taeyong admitted.

“I cause fear in the devil, what a powerful woman I am,” you joked grinning at him, “Don’t underestimate me.”

Taeyong brought his hand up to cover yours that was still rested on your face.

“You said you hate being alone here, why would you ever choose to stay here?” he asked.

“Because I wouldn’t be alone, I would have friends like Yuta and Yangyang and I would have you, Taeil chose me because we are a perfect match, right? Well then we will always be happy, also Yuta assures me he has a few million more stories lined up and I can’t miss out on that.”

Taeyong’s eyes stared into your soul, he licked his lower lip slightly before moving so he was positioned over you, resting on his forearms.

“I really hope that what you say is true,” he said before bringing his lips to meet yours.

A few weeks passed, you didn’t see Taeyong very often, he was still very busy, but he had made your life in hell become somewhat enjoyable. You spent most of your days playing around with Yuta, Yangyang had work to do, and getting to know the city. When you did see Taeyong he still somewhat guarded, but he was a lot more genuine with you.

You were just coming back from a game of throw the devil with Yuta when you noticed a bright white letter sitting on the doorstep, Dear Taeyong was written on the front in cursive writing similar to that of Taeyong’s.

Yuta grimaced at the sight of it. You didn’t have to ask who it was from because you knew it was from him, from Taeil.

“Well it was fun to get to know you,” Yuta said, holding out his hand for you to shake, “I wish you all the best in heaven, it sounds like a great place.”

“I’m not going,” you said. Yuta snorted,

“No one would ever give up that chance, especially not for someone they barely know, you’ve talked to Taeyong, what three four times, you might be crazy but there is no way you’re that crazy.

You looked up at the orange sky above, wishing more than ever that you could remember your past life, so you could understand what choice you would have made when you were alive.

“It doesn’t make sense to me either, maybe I suffered permanent brain damage when I fell down that hole on the way here… but I just have this feeling, a feeling that tells me that I belong here, with Taeyong, with you, with Yangyang, that this is my fate.”

“Don’t suffer a harsh fate just because you feel sorry for the devil,” Yuta exhaled deeply.

“How is this fate harsh?” you asked, “maybe for most people hell is the worst, but I have only had good experiences here, I may have complained about your stories, but they weren’t that bad,”

“Any fate is harsh in comparison to perfection.” Yuta mused.

“It’s almost like you want me to leave,” you joked. Yuta looked at the letter with envy.

“If you want to stay here that’s your choice and I will be happy not to see you go, but it’s not the choice I would make.”

You pushed him slightly on the shoulder to ease the tension.

“You would be bored after five seconds up there,” you said opening the door and kicking your shoes off into the hallway.

You both went to eat and were wrapped up in conversation but neither of you could ignore when you heard the front door slam loudly and Taeyong scream out a list of profanities even from the other side of the house.

You gave Yuta a small smile before hurrying downstairs to try and find Taeyong. He was kneeling in the hallway staring down at the open letter on the floor that was set alight, the pages burning until there was nothing left but ash.

You tried to sit near him to comfort him, but he pulled away.

“I won’t go with him,” you said quietly. Taeyong rolled his eyes.

“Yes, you fucking will, no matter what you say humans are all the fucking same, you’re not special.”

You were taken aback. You had known the letter would upset Taeyong, but you hadn’t expected him to act with such anger.

“I don’t need your stupid fucking pity,” Taeyong hissed, the venom in his voice not something that could be faked, “I may want to love you but at this point I hate you at the same time and I will hate every girl that comes after.”

Your eyes narrowed and you snorted slightly.

“I didn’t pity you before Taeyong,” you said, “but this is pathetic.”

You picked up a vase that was next to you and smashed it on the ground.

“What are you doing?” Taeyong said standing up, alarmed at your sudden violence.

“I don’t remember my life on earth,” you began, but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t an angel. I do know who I am now though, I commit petty crimes with Yuta for fun, I am attracted to a man who tortures people for a living, and I broke your vase just because I can. That doesn’t make me evil but I’m not a saint and I certainly don’t see a reason to go to heaven. Call me a narcissist but at least here I’m special, at least you will love me and for whatever reason my brain seems to value that more than eternal glory or whatever.”

“I’m a difficult man and this is a difficult place, I’ve just sheltered you from it so far.” Taeyong said.

You stepped closer to him until your lips were right by his ear.

“Then show me,” you whispered, “show me hell,” you stepped back, “show me what life here is really like and then I can make an informed choice, I can’t chose you if you don’t even give me a chance.”

“That seems fair, you can at least be Queen of Hell for a day” Taeyong agreed.

Which is how you ended up hours later back on the lift out of the city. This time you had no broken bones and you instead wore a dress of fire, courtesy of Yuta’s demon magic.

Taeyong led you through the circles of hell, through all the punishments, betrayers frozen in ice; tyrants and robber forced to swim in boiling blood; the eternal combat of the wrathful sullen and lazy and the lustful caught in the endless violent wind to name but a few.

“Hell is a horrible place for a lot of people, the city of Dis is the exception not the rule, to live there you have to live with that.”

“Then who are the people wondering around, in the villages outside the city?” you asked, not really wanting to dwell on the torture.

“The pain of torture dulls after a few thousand years and those people become free, everyone here is free because of that. After a few thousand years you can just get up and walk away and live a life again. I burned in fire for three thousand years until one day I just walked away and found the demons in the city,” Taeyong explained.

“So, the torture ends?” You asked him. Taeyong nodded,

“Pain has no power if you have experienced 1000 lifetimes of it, it just becomes normal.”

“Then I can live with it.” You said.

Taeyong looked surprised.

“It probably makes me a bad person but then I suppose that justifies my place here but if the torture ends then I can justify within myself living here, marrying you.”

“If I chose to stay, do I have to suffer the thousands of years?” you followed up.

“Does that change your answer?”

You didn’t know. But you didn’t think so, you just didn’t ever want to say something you weren’t totally sure about.

“But no, you wouldn’t, every millennium I can pardon someone, I have saved that for the chance someone ever choses to marry me,”

“Not the pessimist I always thought then,” you giggled. Taeyong laughed,

“It wasn’t optimism, it was fear… though the pain ends, I still didn’t want anyone who had made a choice to stay with me to have to experience it, because while it normalises after a thousand years the first couple hundred really are torture.”

“Well then I can’t really have any objections to hell then, or to such a thoughtful devil as you.”

“Would you like to sleep in my room tonight,” Taeyong asked suddenly.

“I knew there were other perks to Hell,” you joked.

“Well you’re a beautiful girl and I’m certainly no saint.”

When the sky turned from orange to blood red you were in Taeyong’s room. He was sitting up in his bed, shirt unbuttoned slightly, making the room feel even hotter than the inferno it already was.

You fiddled slightly with the bottom of your shirt before pulling it straight off, to reveal the lingerie that had been left in your drawer by Taeyong since day one. Taeyong smiled to himself dragging his finger over his lip slightly.

You continued, pulling down your shorts to reveal your panties, stepping ever closer towards Taeyong, who had begun to take his own shirt off as well, revealing his chest underneath.

You reached back and unclasped your bra, throwing it to the ground as you crawled onto the bed, towards Taeyong, fuelled by new confidence given to you by the look the devil. His eyes burning with lust.

You had barely touched him before he caught your arm and flipped you over, once again resting on his forearms above you but this time he kissed your neck.

“I’m the king of hell, I’m in charge here,” he said, bringing his hand up to massage your breast as he marked your neck, causing you to illicit a moan, any plans you had slipping away.

You watched him grin as he pulled away,

“You’re beautiful,” he noted. You noticed the same thing about him, it was clear he used to be an angel, but the scars on his chest, a product of hell somehow only made him more attractive. As you both paused your eyes travelled down to his underwear, where a wet patch had already formed at the tip of his dick.

Taeyong caught you staring,

“Wanna suck?” he asked and so you nodded but Taeyong stopped you as you leaned down to touch him.

“I want to hear you say it, I want to hear the sinful words, worth of the Queen of Hell.”

You had no problem obliging, you didn’t think there was anything you wouldn’t do for this man at this point and you still weren’t a hundred percent sure why.

“I want to suck your cock, I want to choke on it” you said to him with a small smile, before once again leaning down and pulling at his waistband. Taeyong was pleasantly surprised by your own addition to the statement,

‘I didn’t realise you were such a good slut,” he grinned a grin that quickly turned into a moan as you took him into your mouth, pushing your head down until you felt him against the back of your throat causing you to gag before moving back up and down again. As you sucked you looked up at Taeyong, tears forming in your eyes, never breaking eye contact.

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he said. It didn’t take long until Taeyong’s breathing got heavier and you swallowed his warm cum that burst into your mouth, not missing a drop.

He recovered quickly and before you realised it, he was kissing you again, his hands wasting no time in removing your own panties, that were already soaked.

“I’m glad I have this effect on you,” Taeyong smirked as he chucked them across the other side of the room. Taeyong’s fingers stroked over your wet entrance but before he could slide a finger in you grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Not today, I just want to feel you inside me,” you asked, and he was happy to oblige, just as you had been.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he commanded. When you were ready you could feel him rubbing his dick over your wet folds, teasing you.

“I’ve gone months without sex down here because of you, just fuck me, please,” you begged. Taeyong immediately thrust his full length into you, but despite this initial urgency, he kept a slow torturous pace.

You whined in complaint which had no effect on Taeyong’s actions.

“This is what you get instead of a thousand years of torture baby, and also you feel so good, so tight around me, I want to savour it.” He said.

You moved your hips back to meet Taeyong, trying to get him to increase his pace.

“I’m sure Taeil would fuck me harder,” you teased which was all it took.

“So that’s the game you want to play,” Taeyong smirked before pulling out completely. Before you could even complain about the loss Taeyong thrust back into you again in tandem with a smack on your ass.

“You’re a bad girl, and bad girls get bad treatment.” He kept one hand on your hip and one hand grabbed your hair as he pumped into you hard and fast, your moans getting louder each time.

“If you don’t shut up Yuta will here you,” Taeyong complained, “but I bet a naughty slut like you would like that wouldn’t you,”

You moaned in agreement.

“I want to hear you say it,” Taeyong said, smacking your ass again.

“I’m a naughty slut who wants Yuta to hear me fucking you.” Taeyong groaned at your sinful words, his dick beginning to twitch inside you.

A few seconds later you felt his cum inside you and Taeyong continue to fuck it into you, which was enough to push you over the edge.

“Fuck!” you screamed out as Taeyong kept fucking you through the aftershocks, before pulling out and getting you to kay down next to him.

“I love you y/n,” he said, his eyes filled with affection, “even if you are a naughty girl.”

Two days later Taeil appeared at your door. It was 3pm in the afternoon when he knocked. Taeyong answered the door and went outside first, you didn’t go until he called you a few minutes later.

“Hello y/n, I am Taeil, Angel of Heaven.” He introduced himself.

“I am aware,” you replied curtly. You could see the fear in Taeyong’s eyes, and it made you want to cry, you couldn’t believe he still thought you would leave him.

“I am here to give you the chance to come to heaven, where you can have everything you ever wanted and live in perfect peace, instead of a tumultuous eternity in hell.” He began but you cut him short.

“I am fine here actually but thanks for the offer.”

Taeil didn’t look phased, maybe it had taken a while before the others agreed.

“I can give you everything, memories of your life on earth, the chance to meet your family again, here you will endure years of pain.”

You remained resolute.

“That’s a no thank you, have a nice day,” you said grabbing Taeyong’s hand and moving to head back inside

Taeil stopped you, his arm placed in front of you. He reached into his pocket and played a scene into your mind.

It was what you guessed was heaven and all you could feel was an immense sense of peace, you saw people around you smiling and cheers of laughter not screams.

“My answer is still no,” you said. Taeil looked perplexed.

“No one who has seen heaven has ever turned it down, what could be better than the everlasting peace?” he asked.

You looked up at Taeyong who still looked frantically worried and smiled. You saw Yuta hopping from foot to foot behind a bush with Yangyang to eavesdrop what was happening.

“Everlasting love,” you replied, “Everlasting friendship,” you continued, “and besides I reckon hell must be more fun anyway.”

Taeil took a few steps back, something close to anger appearing on his face.

“If you turn this offer down, I will never give it to you again,” Taeil asked. You shrugged.

“Have a nice flight back,” was all you said before leaning up and giving Taeyong a kiss on the cheek.

“I won’t want what I can have because I have all the things I need, and that is my peace.”

Taeyong wrapped his arms around you grinning,

“You really are one of a kind, kissed me first girl,” he remarked. Taeil scoffed.

“Have fun being damned together,” he said before heading back out the gate.

“Being damned never looked so good!” Yangyang called from behind the bush. You laughed, sure at that moment you had made the right choice.

Even if you hadn’t Taeil came back every year for the next thirty years, despite promising it would be the last each time, unwilling to accept that he had lost. Each time you found a creative way of telling him to get lost. Each year Taeyong looked less and less scared that you would leave him until he finally realised you never would.

“Get lost Taeil!” He called out, “My wife isn’t interested in your schemes and she never will be,” he shouted before he proceeded to make out with you in a very non-PG way causing Taeil to cover his eyes and run. After that he never returned.

A hundred years later you sat with Taeyong under the orange sky and smiled.

“Do you believe in fate now?” you asked, rubbing your thumb on the outside of his hand.

“I believe in my love for you, be that fate, the end to my torture or just sheer luck. Whichever it is I’m thankful for it, because hell is lonely but when you have someone with you, it’s just a very warm place with a lot of alcohol and screaming.”

Maybe the second part wasn’t so eloquent, but it was right. Hell wasn’t something to be feared when you had someone by your side. Because for Taeyong being alone had been more torturous than the fire.

At that moment Yuta’s demon child ran into the garden and set fire to the tablecloth and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing as Yuta then threw the child about a mile, probably a demon throwing high score.

The afterlife you had chosen wasn’t what most people had chosen, most people didn’t even get a choice and so when Taeyong kissed you in the darkness lit up by flames you felt like someone who was lucky. You didn’t know why this was the afterlife you lived or why Taeyong had ever meant so much. But you final realised that you didn’t need to know. That sometimes things could have vague answers and that was okay. As long as your love for Taeyong was clear, then so was the choice you had made.

As you had once shouted at Taeil whilst chucking a demon at him,

“What’s so good about resting in peace anyway,” you found resting in chaos much more entertaining.

[like-that-one-weird-dog-thing]

If I Could Burn This Down

[1] . . . [2] . . . [3] . . . [4] . . . [5] . . .

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Ok no, but I just have to rant on this. It’s been consuming my thoughts y’all, I just can’t stop thinking about it all.

So, this is about the Dream SMP- I recently got introduced to it through some friends and the animatics by SAD-ist were really what sold me to it. I’ve been trying to catch up on it all(god, it’s so good but also such a mess, I don’t think I’d have it any other way) and I just. So many thoughts y’all.

That ending tho, y’all that’s really what started this train of thought. It was so good. Like, I’ve seen quite a few posts on why it was predictable, not the unexpected twist Dream promised, and just. Not that good of an ending and honestly that’s a matter of opinion so I shouldn’t really care(and I don’t. much) but I still want to rant on the direct opposite side because fuck it I have thoughts!!!

obv spoilers for recent dream smp actions

tw for discussion of death in-universe and indirect discussion of suicidal ideation/possible intention

boi did I not think I’d add those tws to a post about a minecraft rp server of all things, but here I am

stay safe y’all

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This will mostly be on Willbur’s decent, for those wondering, because it’s just. there’s so many things to that ok. I just, this is just gonna be a ramble, just for me to get my thoughts out there.

So, I’ve seen a lot of things about Willbur- his decent into madness being the main thing. Mostly, it all seems to boil down to one thing- his desire for power and his view of Tommy being what led to him, well, blowing up L’manburg. But I personally don’t see that as the full story. Sure, it’s part of it, but it just feels incomplete to me. What would kickstart it? how would he go from adoring Tommy and only wanting L’manburg so that Tommy could be safe, to blowing it all up and betraying Tommy?

How could he go from that to doing the one thing that would hurt Tommy the most?

I personally think the answer is simple. Tommy said it in his recent stream, welcoming ConnerEatsPants to the server, after all. 

Trauma makes people vulnerable.

And Willbur has gone through a lot of trauma.

So, quite a bit of this depends on your view of how the world works. I don’t know if it’s ever been stated as cannon, but the deaths are specifically what I’m talking about.

They die so so much, after all. How does the work in-world? are they actually dying, and there’s a respawn function to the world(as in, it’s been a fact of life in-universe that you can die and come back) or do they just get injured, as a number of animatics/animations have chosen to depict it as? Are they being dragged back home by their comrades, fatally injured, just to heal?

Personally, I don’t see that likely as the in-universe explanation. They come back, after all. Come back and continue fighting, minutes after they’re killed. You can’t just use injuries as an excuse there, to explain it away.

So, I’ll follow this along with the ‘respawn exists’ assumption. Still, that brings up more questions. How did Willbur and JSchlatt permanently die, then? do you have to die in such a traumatizing way(your father killing you, all the people who may have once been your friends cornering you to kill you as your hopped up on drugs) that you no longer want to go back? That something deep inside you snaps and your connection to this world breaks, or is it something else? Does someone else pull the strings?

Is Dream the one, in-universe, to decide when you can respawn and when you die permanently? He’s closest thing to a god they have, after all, with access to creative mode and final say over the lands- the true ruler of the world. Is it him?

And still, there’s more questions. What is it like? How does it feel? is the corpse left there, or does it just disappear, leaving your stuff behind? maybe your body crumbles to dust, maybe it fades away before your eyes

Is dying just like Willbur described? Nothingness until you awake, only a taste of true death, a few seconds to experience it, to make you fear it? Is the pain all in the before, or do you feel in the after too, phantom aches and pains as you go about your life, the time you died a memory forever haunting you?

Does the end of your life hurt? Do you feel yourself being brought back to life? Does that hurt?

No matter what you decide, the fact of the matter is, it’s all still traumatizing. Being injured severely enough that you have to drop all your items and flee to heal up, or dying from those that you are always forced to interact with- it leaves a mark. Your left different than you were before. And other people can take advantage of this.

Who fed into all of Willbur’s manic thoughts, who fed into his idea that he was all alone? Him against the world, no one safe anymore. Who let him rot in those ideas?

Dream.

He did, afterall, give him the gunpowder for his eleven and a half stacks of tnt. He made a deal with him, that no matter what, even if he won, even if Willbur took L’manburg back, even if he became president and could make a safer place for them all, make a safer place for Tommy, even then.

The place would be blown sky. high.

He feeds into Willbur’s ideas, his thoughts, he eggs him on and pushes him forward(there is a traitor among you, one that you least expect). What if Dream was the one who ruined Willbur’s button, the first time? Trying to keep him tagging along, trying to drag him through the dirt to really show him, this is how it is, you are alone, no where is safe- no one is safe, everyone is against you. Dream is a sort of god, in the server. The land is his. He wouldn’t want L’manburg to stand, and he would want the one who had started it thoroughly against the rebuilding of it, before he had it destroyed. It would be a blow to morale, after all, for their leader to no longer believe in the dream that he’d once had. It would sow doubt, would make them think maybe, maybe it wasn’t a good idea, Willbur made it and he’s against it now.

They think he’s gone mad, true, but that doesn’t change that fact that Willbur started L’manburg. If the stress of it all was enough to make him lose it, couldn’t the others too?

Maybe it’s not worth it.

He destroyed it.

And here’s the thing, when Phil shows up?

It feels like a catalyst. A kick, a shove. Whatever you want to call it.

One last push by Dream, to force Willbur to do it. 

Before, it follows. Willbur rants, he panics, he shakes. He stresses over it all, stares at that damn button. He made a deal, but should he really do it?

Tommy tried to give him the Presidency, tried to give him the power, a sign of trust. Surely, if Tommy trusted him after all that he’s done to him...

Surely, he can back away. Not ruin it.

Right?

He hesitates.

Then Phil comes. His father. He tries to talk him out of it, tries to get him to see sense. But in the end?

He’s the one final thing that Willbur needed to see, before his resolve hardened. Before the ache settled solid and true.

(Phil is panicking, and Willbur sees it. 

He doesn’t trust him either, does he?)

Willbur is alone, and everyone is against him.

He hits the button.

See, the compound of events, the repeated deaths(injuries) he’s suffered all throughout his life, the war, they all add up. Whether death hurts or not doesn’t matter in the end, whether they’re dying or not doesn’t matter, because it all still hurts. The before hurts.

And you can only be hurt so many times before you can’t stand to be hurt anymore.

L’manburg caused Willbur so much hurt. The war, the suffering- it wouldn’t have happened without L’manburg.

All that was left for him was hurt, and all he wanted was for that hurt to leave.

With L’manburg in ruins behind him(he survived the blast, did he intend to? He never wore armor), Willbur demands for Phil to kill him. His father.

He doesn’t beg. He’s desperate, it’s obvious by the way he slams his fist down as he screams for it, but he doesn’t beg.

Instead, he eggs Phil on.

Just what Dream did to him.

He throws his arms towards L’manburg, shoves it into Phil’s face, makes him look.

Willbur did that. He is the cause. Phil should kill him, everyone wants him to.

It was just Willbur. Just Willbur, Willbur and all his hurt, just him against the world.

No one was on his side and he was alone.

Willbur works to anger Phil. Instead of begging for death he demands it and throws his sword at his father’s feet. He forces him to make a choice. Him or the world, because that was what it really was. 

Willbur was alone. Him against the world. Would Phil choose him?

Look at me, it seems to scream, look at me and what I’ve done, look at the hurt I’ve now caused.

Where do you stand?

In the end, even if later, Phil seems to be good friends with Techno(another traitor, the traitors Techno Phil, it’s Techno, Phil, it’s Techno and he’s got eight whithers ready to go, you better hurry, run along now, before it’s too late), even if he doesn’t want to...

He chooses the world.

Phil kills Willbur, and Willbur gets to escape the hurt.

Is that what he wanted all along? Is that were his madness stems? The hurt of a boy watching children fight in a war, the hurt of a boy watching what is basically his brother fight and die over and over and over again, all for an idea he’d had...

Is that where it begins? Or where it ends?

L’manburg, the start and the end?

L’manburg, his symphony of hope, with a finale of agony.

It’s a predictable ending, maybe, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t fit. Techno may have been obvious, but that doesn’t mean there might not have been hope for otherwise, hope for a better future, hope for him to change his mind and hope for his affection for them to overrule his opinions and values of government.

I wonder, did Tommy ever see Techno and think of Willbur?

Did Willbur ever see Techno and think of Tommy?

Two siblings, seeing something that could have been(Tommy, lets be the bad guys) and something that will never be(Willbur, do you hear yourself?)

I wonder, did Willbur ever even give real thought to how the destruction of L’manburg would hurt Tommy? Did he?

Or was he too wrapped up in his thoughts, his own pain. Too wrapped up in the thoughts fed by Dream and the ideas burning through his skin.(the button might not even work -do you want to risk that?) 

Through it all, did he think?

And this is not to say that Willbur is absolved of his guilt, of the crimes he has committed. He giggles about Techno killing Tubbo, he pushes for Tommy and Techno to fight in a pit, where Tommy is almost certainly going to die(another death added to hundreds of tallies), and he laughs as they fight.

(It stays in the pit)

He is not innocent. Explainations for his actions don’t erase those actions. It does, however bring even more questions into the mix.

The Pit.

Techno and Willbur’s views on Tubbo’s death(I was peer pressured), Tommy’s refusal to accept that then accepting his own death at Techno’s hands.

Has it become trivial to Willbur and Techno? An expectation to Tommy? Is Tubbo really unfazed, or hiding any emotions over his death? Do you choose to believe he died, or that he was injured to near death by Techno? Which is worse? If death is nothingness, the pain of before gone, washed away, than isn’t it better to die then to be injured? Is Tommy upset about Tubbo learning once more what death is, dealing with the pain of the before, or is he mad that Techno didn’t finish the job and let Tubbo be healed instead of respawned?

Did he die, or just get injured?

Another thought on the broken button, was it Dream, or was it Willbur? Willbur, doing one last thing to try and cling to him life before.(surely, if he broke the button, the urge to run to it would leave him?) Did he ever regret it, when he finally did push it? I don’t think so

His ghost.

Is it the escape he wanted? Did he want to forget it all, everything that led to hurt and was hurt? Is his description of death just what he wanted- wished- it to be? Would it be different for someone else? Does he hate it? Crave to go back to it, to leave the wandering of the world he’s left behind? He’s said he’s wanted to come back to life- does he miss it? Can he feel any of it? The sunlight, the air around him, any of it? Or does the nothingness stick? Is that all he feels?

Does it ache, worse than living ever did?

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[orsuliya]

Song Huaien is a good boy!

Book spoilers did me dirty. That’s a fact. Ever since I peeked at the last chapters of the novel, I’ve been convinced that Song Huaien was going to go rogue sooner or later. And so I looked upon him as one does upon a ticking bomb, watching him closely for any signs of rot and obvious mwahahahaing.

And that… might have been wrong of me. It’s not like The Rebel Princess ever treated any character’s novel journey as sacrosanct (see: Su Jin’er, Wanru, even Zitan). So what gives? Well, just look at the ever-precious Liu Duanduan. Wouldn’t you want to steel your heart in advance…?

And then the supremely astute @dangermousie came along and made me reconsider what could be done in the scant remaining number of episodes in order to deliver a satisfying ending. I trust The Rebel Princess, so it will be a satisfying ending, 12 cut episodes notwithstanding, and I’m choosing to ignore any contrary opinions! So what could be done? Well, getting rid of Song Huaien’s rebellion and conflict with Xiao Qi seems to be one of the most viable solutions, whether by design or by leaving it on the cutting-room floor. Okay, I’m sold, I thought at once, jumping without thinking as I’m wont to do. But does the drama itself support that?

Why, yes, I believe it does!

What are the actual visible signs of Song Huaien’s potential villainy? There’s the corruption/negligence thing, a pronounced liking for finer things in life and an unrequited love for Awu. That’s it.

The corruption scandal, if it can even be called such, what with Potato suppressing any further investigation attempts, is the biggest strike against Song Huaien. It’s clear that he’s somehow embroiled into unsavoury dealings, but the extent of his guilt is never shown. While I don’t fully believe his story about the birthday gifts being delivered during his absence and accepted without his express permission and/or knowledge, there is also nothing to suggest he’s been explicitly on Xie payroll, secret documents non-withstanding. The record book alone is no proof of guilt – why, the Xie might have simply noted that gifts of certain value had been given and received, not in exchange for a specific service, but rather as a start of a beautiful relationship. You get the drill. I believe if there was a solid proof of Song Huaien doing explicit harm to his own in exchange for Xie money, Xiao Qi’s reaction would have been much harsher.

As it stands, Song Huaien’s guilt is a matter of conjecture. There’s the birthday gift, which Xiao Qi cottons onto really quickly, which confirms that it may have been noted in the Xie secret books. There’s the fact that he may or may not have known about it and may or may not have chosen to keep it. I’d say he did know, if only after the fact, and that he originally meant to keep it. There’s also the damning fact that Song Huaien was the man taking care of logistics from the Ningshuo side. And he did his job really poorly, since multiple deliveries of substandard grain and clothing somehow made it through. But was it out of maliciousness? Was there ever a conscious decision on his part to let things slip? Not necessarily. It looks bad, sure. But let’s not forget that dealing with the capital sharks may be a first for Song Huaien, regardless of his previous experience as a procurement officer. Whatever his experience, it was either at the very end of the supply chain or it was mainly related to supplies coming from the area closest to Ningshuo. The former wouldn’t have prepared him for his present duties. And as for the latter, I think that the Ningshuo province has its own rules and ways, which are in no way comparable to the shark pond that the capital undoubtedly is. What’s more, Huaien really seems to buy into the illustrious capital life; it would not surprise me if he delegated a few things that should not be delegated simply because he was busy taking it all in!

So, intentional crime or crime of negligence? I’d be inclined to vote for negligence. It just fits what we know about Song Huaien up to that point, it fits his current circumstances and it makes Xiao Qi’s reaction quite reasonable.

The second strike against Huaien’s integrity is his love for the finer things in life. But then, is it really such a damning thing? Many of the Ningshuo soldiers must have experienced the same thing upon their arrival into the capital. Here they are, heroes and patriots all, having spent their whole life either on various battlefields or in decidedly non-luxurious circumstances. Why, they must be quite happy if they get enough to eat, which they do only because they have an honest general who cares about them very much. Other armies are not as lucky! And then they are shown all those useless noble scions, some of whom might nominally be officers despite barely knowing how to hold a sword (and even those swords would be ceremonial ones, so mostly useless). I don’t know about you, but I’d be bitter. Some of Xiao Qi’s closest clearly are, although he tends to shut that down very quickly. Also, covetousness is not a crime as long as Song Huaien is not actively taking bribes or jockeying for profit. And there is no proof of that. His manor and his title are both given to him without him ever asking for them. If he appreciates that… well, that is also not a crime and he doesn’t even gloat openly! As it later turns out, he took both as his due, believing that his talents were seen and duly appreciated outside the Ningshuo army.

Sooo… Nothing out of ordinary on that count. And seeing that at one point Song Huaien offers to use his savings to repair the ailing military budget – whether from guilt or from sense of duty – speaks to his advantage.

Now, let’s take a look at his unrequited love for Awu. I mean, is it any wonder he falls for her? I am half in love with her myself, so I totally get it! What matters is what he does with this love. Quite surprisingly, there is no attempt at coming between her and Xiao Qi. Why, Song Huaien actively tries to help their marriage by convincing Awu to return home from the temple. No hesitation there! And while he might realize he’s actually in love very late in the story (by this point it’s obvious to everybody), the realization itself changes very little. He gets very determined to go through with marrying Yuxiu, that’s it. Still no attempts to make a move on Awu. Even that flower he brought back from the Imperial Mausoleum was not an overly romantic gesture – she asked and he did as she asked in order to make her happy, nothing more. There’s also a genuine attempt to get over her. He goes to Yuxiu on their wedding night and despite the initial haziness on the matter, he seems to know quite well she’s not Awu and does his best. Although that bro slap in the morning… Let’s believe he did his best there too, the poor awkward thing. He gives her an actual hug when he comes back from Jiangnan! Progress!

What finally buried the theory that Song Huaien might rebel in order to take Awu away from Xiao Qi was his convo with Wang Su in episode 55. I was so afraid (just as I was afraid on his wedding night) that he might do something stupid. Like asking for Awu’s hand or betraying his romantic intentions towards her. But no. While Song Huaien tells Wang Su that he wants/needs to find Awu, there’s no romantic intent there, only duty towards Xiao Qi’s wife and respect towards a woman who has earned it many times over. If there is anything else, I just can’t see it! Why, during this whole conversation Song Huaien is more broken up about Xiao Qi than about Awu!

Whether Song Huaien manages to get over his love or not, there is no sign he was ever going to do anything about it, not while Xiao Qi lived and perhaps not even now that he’s supposed to be dead. Moreover, he made every possible effort to suppress his emotions out of sheer guilt and feeling of brotherhood towards Xiao Qi. Marrying Yuxiu might have been a bad, bad choice (although I still hope for the best), but it was a choice made for the best of reasons.

So that’s it, right? Well, wrong. Even with all of the above there was still a possibility for him to go the villain route. Except… he actually seems to be redeeming himself in leaps and bounds. Once away from the capital, Song Huaien seems to throw off the capital’s thrall and becomes the best version of himself. Jumping into stormy waters in clear disregard of any danger? Working tirelessly towards a common goal and for the good of the people? That’s pure Ningshuo stock, no moral rot in sight! Now, why would the narrative have him getting back to his old self only to make him regress again?

There’s also no real reason for him to ever go against Xiao Qi. If that was going to happen, I’d have expected at least some signs of bitterness and jealousy to have shown up by now. And yet there’s nothing, at least not towards Xiao Qi. Who, might I add, really does his best to mitigate any potential bitterness in the bud. Just look at the way they resolve the corruption scandal! And I’m not talking about Xiao Qi burning (or not burning?) the incriminating page. What got my attention is what their conversations over the matter boil to. Which is: Listen, brother, I get that you’ve been having some issues, but get your shit together. And please, take care of yourself. I don’t want you to get in trouble, so please remember that there are people watching your every step. No overt accusations, no anger in sight, maybe the slightest bit of sternness, but heavily undercut with roughly expressed care. And it’s the same with their confrontation over Awu. I know what’s going on with you and my wife, but I 100% get it, mate, so take a moment and decide how to proceed from here. Even if Song Huaien was actively seeking a reason to hold a grudge, it would take a truly rotten seed to find one. And a rotten seed Song Huaien is not.

Now, let’s wrap it up by going over Wang Su’s suborning of Song Huaien in episode 55. It’s really something special, as well as the main reason I’m choosing to reject any possibility of SHE/XQ showdown.

Wang Su waylays Song Huaien on his way out of camp. Song Huaien is clearly very emotional at this moment and not really inclined to stop for anybody. Why, I think that he was fully prepared to go through Wang Su if needed. It is also quite probable that his decision to leave for the capital was made on the spot, once he heard about what happened to Xiao Qi, Awu and his comrades. Yet he stops and listens, if only because Wang Su – Awu’s brother and Xiao Qi’s brother-in-law - should be his natural ally in his quest to clear Xiao Qi’s name. As he proclaims to be by announcing his willingness to join Song Huaien on his journey to the capital.

Wang Su (or rather Daddy Wang possessing Wang Su’s body) takes full advantage of Song Huaien’s state. First he breaks out a prop, Awu’s favourite wine. It does not work as well as it could have and I’d say that at this point Song Huaien remains quite astute as to Wang Su’s weird behaviour. His first outburst shows he’s got little patience for games. Awu is your sister and Xiao Qi your brother in law, he reminds Wang Su, who seems very controlled for a man with much more obvious ties to this whole situation than Song Huaien. Wang Su skips around the issue by taking out his ace card, the Empress Dowager’s order. Predictably, it takes Song Huaien off-balance and incites a sense of debt, if not gratitude. An excellent opening from the shapeshifting Daddy Wang! Then Wang Su makes an attempt at aiming Song Huaien at the Empress Dowager… and it doesn’t work. Song Huaien doesn’t care about his own life half as much as he cares about Xiao Qi. Cue a mournful soliloquy! There is no way a man this broken about his brother’s death is going to try to kill said brother in the 13 episodes remaining (less, in fact, since they will not meet until 59 or 60 at the earliest). There would be no build-up! The only way I can see this happening is if Xiao Qi went against Song Huaien first and in a deeply personal way. Which we know he would never, so...

Wang Su makes a brave attempt at corralling Song Huaien’s grief and turning it to anger, for all that he may say that anger will not help anyone; it doesn’t work and self-blame enters the picture. If only I was with him leads to a startling realization: all those honors and the brand new posting were just a ploy. Now, this realization could lead to two different results. Song Huaien could plausibly become bitter towards Xiao Qi –  because of whose very existence his own talents weren’t truly recognized and he himself became a pawn. But there’s nothing to suggest that’s true. It’s more likely for Song Huaien to turn his bitterness over his wounded pride towards the Empress Dowager in particular and scheming nobles in general. Which is what I think he does. There is also a possibility of guilt: he bought into this whole noble life fairytale… and this is what partially facilitated him being turned into a pawn. It may be just wishful thinking, but I expect that in the future Song Huaien will be more wary of unexpected meat pies falling from the sky, however tasty they may be.

Just a moment later Wang Su offers him a meat pie. He’s going to help him take revenge! And Song Huaien swallows it whole – at least for now. This is where a truly interesting thing happens. Song Huaien, a general in his own right, a true hero and a man who’s been acting as Wang Su’s equal while in Jiangnan… folds and takes to a subordinate position like a duck to the water. Tell me what to do, he seems to be screaming with his eyes. And when Wang Su starts to use the word we, there’s a palpable sense of relief in Song Huaien’s whole demeanor. What’s more, he’s not reacting to the idea that he still needs to jump through some hoops in order to become a Wang minion. I’m not sure you’re ready to become my ally, lies Wang Su, knowing very well Song Huaien’s is already in his palm. Where’s the ambition? Where’s the slightest sign that this man may be capable of going for the throne for his own sake and against his brother? I don’t see it!

The Wang family is used to needing to pay their allies in hard coin (or titles, or favours), that much is clear, because that’s what Wang Su tries next. The title of a count is too lowly, he says and then dangles a princely one in front of his victim. If Song Huaien was really as hungry for honours and wealth as some of us were expecting him to be, he’d be all over that. But he’s not. He gives it due consideration, but, if anything, this proposition seems to bring him back to reality. There are no free meat pies to be had and he’s just remembered that. But since this is the best – and likely the only – proposition/offer of help he’s going to get, he seals the deal anyway.

There’s still some reluctance, though. Why, Song Huaien needs to rationalize this decision by reminding himself that Wang Su saved his life and that there’s revenge to be taken since he’s alive (as Xiao Qi is not). Not very eager to take part in a coup, is he? And then he actually makes getting justice for Xiao Qi a condition of this alliance! Finding Awu is the second one, but as I’ve already said, there seems to be no romantic intentions there.

And that’s it, the deal is done. So now, can anybody tell me how is this Song Huaien supposed to go against Xiao Qi? He’s more likely to go for a hug once he sees him alive!

There is no reasonable way to leave in Song Huaien’s conflict with Xiao Qi. There’s just no time and no real build-up to that! The only way to have him go rogue is to have a timeskip with Song Huaien doing a 180 in the meantime. And somehow I just can’t see it happening. But I guess we’ll have to see about that!

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Before Dawn: Bonus Chapter (1)

Helloooooo, alright listen, I re read a choice with no regrets and uhm here is this, a little insight on what has happened a little while before our story began, I'm sure you'll want to see some nice bonding with Isabel

Warnings: just a few teeny little mentions of intercourse

@hidehaskak of course here's your tag❤️

Turtleneck

"Yehawhaww" The moment you appeared at the entrance to the roof Isabel screamed at the top of her lungs in great enthusiasm. You stood silent after you spared her a smuggling nod pacing your eyes between the two men that accompanied her, awaiting for a signal of approval. "I knew I could get you to come! You guys don't mind her hanging out with us right? She's a friend."

At that sound the males finally gave in, letting Isabel close the distance between the both of you. Her significantly smaller arms wrapped around your frame in a pure hearted childish manner and seeing that you towered over her you placed your hands on the small of her back, almost too reassuringly to the males' liking. Their unforgiving gazes burned holes in your whole body with much rage built in for ruining their fun for the night.

You knew you were practically unwanted, but it was for Isabel that you stepped foot on this rooftop to begin with. Tired of her never ending pleas to join her and her so called bros as they looked at the stars and talked about everything and anything you had decided to violate curfew and join her, not them, just her, because you wanted to share some more moments with her. This young little redhead was growing on you in the best way possible, you thought she kind of reminded you of yourself in times where you needed salvage or just a friend with whom you could share your piece of mind and heart.

She wasn't like that at first. Isabel probably resembled a rose, it occurred to you, with her godly youthful looks and her thorn like personality. It was a result from growing up in a trashhole like the underground, among thugs, being forced to build a rough personality if she wanted to survive, it was merciless for her and any other girl down there. But the bubbly side of her personality assured you she was much more than a badass teen who could hand you your ass in any fight, she had a pure heart and you longed to help her feel like she deserved post childhood experiences. But for now, it felt as if your roles had reversed. Sure, you were -if not just as her- bubbly and kind but sometimes you were frustratingly unresponsive and ill faced that it worried her until she got to know you. You hadn't put yourself in a place to talk about you trauma to her; she had her own demons and there was no point in burdening her with your abusive background, but you managed to explain to her that most of your weird and uptight behaviors, most things you could dispose of to become a better person, were curved into you in ways you could share yet. And Isabel, as respectful as ever had assured you it was fine not to be able to share.

Most girls would shut her out due to her formal nature as a thug, much like your friends who at first were adamant about discouraging you to befriend her. They had assumed she wouldn't be able to be nice and kind or to talk like them, but you were against any pretentious act behind her back. Maybe it was due to egoistical motives that you wanted to salvage this little girl, because she reminded her of you, and Nanaba, the only person who fully knew about your situation was taking a stand against this at first. She didn't want you to hurt yourself or the redhead in the process of trying to project your condition on her. But you didn't give up. With Isabel as your new bunkmate you had many chances of getting it right.

"Did you bring what I asked you to?" Isabel hurriedly asked, reaching her hands to make a quest inside the tote bag that you carried. You showed no sign of holding back as you let her peak into the cream colored bind, but only managed to cover your ear as her squeks got louder. "Thank you thank you thank you! Sit down, show me!

Isabel shooed Levi and Furlan apart, placing herself right next to the blond man while tapping her hand on her left side. You followed her smile hesitantly and proceeded to sit down to where her hand was rested a few seconds ago, next to Levi. You felt his eyes ravaging your whole form, up and down as if you were some dirty pig that seeked to rub its mud onto him. When seated neatly enough as to not touch him you proceeded to pry open your tote bag and toss a share of it insides to Isabel.

With a determined face she got a strong hold of the grey colored yarn and the pair of slightly thick needles you had managed to recover for her. "Okay show me, show me!"

"Oh what's that?" Furlan peeked his head over Isabel's shoulder to inspect of the situation.

"It's yarn and needles."

"Ahh, Furlan don't interrupt, (y/n) show me how to cast on!"

"See that's the easiest part, sweetheart." You watched Isabel coo at the support in your tone while she puckered her lips to a cute kid like pout. She followed your slow movements as if you were a goddess, showing her how to create new wolds with her strained hands.

Levi, even though he was suspicious of you, a member of Erwin's team who tried to coax her way into Isabel's life, felt somehow relieved to see that beloved expression on Isabel's face. He had overheard her once, taking to her self in the mirror, wishing she had a lady friend to spend time with and it pained him that she had a feeling of such lack inside her. Therefore your presence was a little soothing in their company. He would be lying if he said he personally didn't like it. After all he had thought you were a beautiful company to Erwin in one of the many times he had come across him in the Underground, silently watching him from the shadows. Not that he was a creep to begin with, it was just his lack and a response to the question of whether you can ever see a stranger twice, that you were actually a scout.

"Where did you learn to do this (y/n?)" Furlan was set to break off Levi's thoughts for one too many times tonight.

"Old mothers are adamant about these things, you know, good girl stuff and all."

"Oh." He began with a flirtatious tone that made both Levi and Isabel turn to him wide eyed "Good girl huh? Every Bad boys dream, including min- ah shit Isabel, ouch!"

The squint in Isabel's eyes was something that you couldn't see and you even ignored it as a matter of fact. Isabel was aware of your teeny crush on Levi, she had gotten it out of you one day during training after she had caught you gawking and drooling at him for doing the bare minimum. It was simply natural for her to get overly excited at the fact. Ever since then she had been convinced that him and you would be a perfect match, that you wouldn't have to be so uptight with him after all but you would always brush her off. It didn't torment you just get, even if his cold gaze somehow tickled your heart at certain times you were perfectly fine with hanging out around him. But there was no point in trying to convince Isabel to give up, not when she practically lived off of you and the male duo. Perhaps that was why she had squinted her eyes so hard at Farlan, she didn't want the couple in her head to be broken apart before it even started.

For the rest of your time with them you barely speak. You were fine with standing there and knitting away your project, a grey ribbed sweater that you had accidentally managed to make huge up to a certain point when you didn't find a purpose in casting off and undoing. You wondered if Isabel really wanted to knit or if it was her excuse to have you hang out with the ravenette since she had seemed to long forget about her needles and was fixated on a bottle of booze, talking away about some merchants in the underground flee market. You figured you should take your leave being to alienated to break their usual trio, you couldn't even keep up with their conversations, not that they cared to include you.

"So if you're all about playing housewife what are you doing here?" Farlan's voice calls out to you almost strained from any actual purpose, he probably knew it was kind of rude on the part to not include you after Isabel had invited you.

You remained silent for a few moments, tilting your head back to stare at the jewel decorated dark sky. Finding the right words for your purpose seemed unbelievably difficult and suffocating but it perhaps was nothing compared to their previous lifestyle.

"I didn't want to die." Two of the three almost fall to instant, bubbling laughter the moment your thoughts longer in the air as actual words.

"And you came here out of all places?" Levi sternly inquired without ever initiating some sort of eye contact.

"I wasn't top of my class, but even if I was I wouldn't go in the MP. I don't want to live a full life as a bastard you know and Garrison, let's say I have my reasons as to not going there."

Something about that bastard themed sentence caused curiosity to twitch inside Levi's chest but he didn't quest on it, oversharing wasn't in his plans to do so with a practical stranger, even if deep down you didn't exactly feel like one. He couldn't be explain that feeling but he could certainly understand what it was that made Isabel so attached to you. Something about your aura was like fresh, dripping honey, unprocessed yet sweet and endearing and overpoweringly strong to the flavor.

"You're not a bastard you had parents right? You just talked about your old mother."

Conveniently, Farlan's words allowed you to shut up and look away, further away from the former thug trio and into the vast horizon that laid before you. You contemplated what was it that enamored everyone outside the walls. With all that death, the scouts corpses that rot every where, you didn't have anything against the walls or life inside, taking down Titans and following orders was therapeutic enough to you as long as you came back to an eventual cup of milk tea and your knitting and embroidering projects. You couldn't bring yourself to give a damn about your future, but you liked fighting for the future of others, maybe somewhere there was a child, just like you, who wanted to get away from an abusive household and start a new life or pick up on experiences they had never lived. These people deserved not to feel caged inside the walls and plus, the nature of the Titans was very much appealing to you due to Erwin and his constant pep talks.

"Wait so how did you end up in Erwin's squad if you're mediocre?" Farlan pushed again, not wanting to let you stay silent for what's worth it.

"Don't forget I'm a veteran. I've outpassed the years a scout is expected to live so Erwin decided to move me to his squad, Mike insisted since we were from the same district."

"Oh so you fucked your way up huh?"

With the corner of his eye Levi watched as your eyes widened in shock. He couldn't possible know about your past, but you didn't seem the tyoe to go around and fuck your superiors so you could earn a higher rank. You were too ignorant to anything, it was prominent that you didn't care about even receiving your own room for serving well all these years.

"How dare you! As if it's something to open your legs for!" There it was, sweet confirmation that you indeed were ignorant.

"Good girl and all huh?"

"Sure."

There was something tense in the air as Farlan flirted, the subtle roll in your eyes, the unusual monotony of Isabel's voice, even Levi has seemed to bring his shoulders towards his collarbones in any attempt to distance his mind off of the unrequited nature of scenery. You weren't flirting back, momentarily he wondered if you even knew how since the sheer blush on your face betrayed your otherwise distinctive spitfire. You acted more childish than Isabel, in a way that you probably didn't realise caught Levi's attention because he didn't mind to spare you a glare, he'd rather keep it to himself.

____

Next time, it was supposed to be Farlan who approached to help you get your foot out of the muddy hole it was stuck to, Isabel squealed profanities at him, but it was Levi who had managed to push past him and the redhead, exposing his self to the cold pouring rain to run towards you. Just how stupid of your team was to leave you in the pouring rain to make your foot in your own?

His mind was at gaze as he sprint, random thoughts filling empty apathetic species that begged for overthinking to take over them. He knew Farlan didn't really like you, he was just trying to such to their plan and keeping you close was in sole purpose of getting closer to Erwin but for Isabel is want like that. She really liked your company, even he enjoyed some of your company at times and they weren't taking any chances with using you.

Moreover and much to his despise, he found himself in a very murky situation with each extension of his foot to your location. Fuck did you really have to look like that? With one leg stretched, toned bottom swaying in the air, strong veiny hands gripping on your knee, mud on the tips of your fingers and hair wet, making wild moves as you flipped your head upwards to get it out of your face. He twitched at the way a small tress stuck to your chapped lips, almost as if you were a goddess of water, a Nereid, as if you were made to be in this drenched state. Small droplets traveled from your chin down your exposed neck, hiding inside the base of your soft grey turtleneck, it was indeed a magnetising scenery, an alluring unraveling play to his eyes but he dared to rip his eyes away. He wondered if anyone could perceive this scene the way that only he did.

"Tch, try not to get that filth on me." He spoke as his sleek palms wrapped around your torso in delicate force, fitting almost perfectly. He closed his eyes. What the fuck was he even thinking? He wasn't even going to stay here for long.

"Wouldn't dream of it, but I beg of you to help before I get sick"

From a distance Isabel watched with teary eyes. A soft feeling of happiness engulfed her whole, not letting her give some form of attention to Farlan who clicked his tongue.

"Whatever Farlan, Levi is finally going to get some action for once. It's not like it's interfering with our mission!" Her brows forrowed at his sight. "He likes her, can't you see?"

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that if you don't actually tell him"

Her eyes harded at what Farlan had said. Of course, she knew Levi would deny ever laying his eyes on anyone but she wanted to be there to watch him experience falling in love, hell even falling out of it. Farlan should plainly accept that Levi is not always going to be hang up from their group. Sticking together even after their time at the military was a given, but wanting to have lovers and relationships now that they could enjoy their lives? Isabel was eagerly excited for it.

She watched you and Levi as you freed your leg from the muddy puddle, flying over by the force you had both been laboring and falling on too of each other, Levi's face was contorted in anger, fumingly red as he tried not to tell at you and she was definite about his feelings towards you.

Outside and laid with his back in the mud, Levi felt startled in a way he hadn't experienced before. He could faintly feel the tips of your breasts on his chest and he guessed you were using cloth binds since the impact wasn't enough to get him beyond a little flustered, but he could admit that this was embarrassing. He was angry, for being muddy that is, god knows just how much he despised mud and the smell of filthy rain but there was something about the way you straddled him and it touched a little flicker inside of him that told him it was alright to be muddy for a few more seconds, as long as he was underneath you. Despite his lack of experience in romantic or tense moments, he only had had sex a few times that he could count on one hand and he had despised each one for being disgustingly filthy, he definitely could sense the electric field in the air around you.

But as soon as the moment occured and you took your glistering eyes off of his, you pushed strength into your arms, digging your palms in the dirt to lift your self up and he was once again his normal self. With a click if his tongue he slipped from underneath you, denying your open hand that seeked to offer him a little help. He wasn't here for a sappy little romantic adventure, he was here to find those documents and kill Erwin, you were merely getting in the way of his brain functioning properly.

[mc-critical]

I remember not too long ago, I had read an analysis on Kösem and Ahmed’s relationship, namely its development and whether or not it was truly healthy. I remember the sudden development of Kösem’s feelings for Ahmed were ascribed to stockholm syndrome, which as you dissect it further, even later in the series after Ahmed has passed away, makes total sense. However it made me wonder, why stop at Kösem/Ahmed? Truthfully, I think stockholm syndrome, trauma response and survival instinct were the primary factors in all of the sultanas “love” or attachment to the sultans. Hürrem, Mahidevran, Aysë, Halime, Handan..all of them. Hürrem had initially thought her fiance was murdered when she came to the palace, and within what looked like a couple of months if even, she was shown to be totally head over heels for Suleyman. No one can simply discard their former love interest so quickly unless trauma was a catalyst..and even when Leo came back to the palace that whole time period where he was in such a close proximity to her visibly caused Hürrem so much pain mentally and emotionally. Or with Handan and Kösem going on to fall in love after their sultans had died..it makes me think of when Handan was confessing her love to Dervish and called being a member of the royal family “her prison.” None of these women were truly in love with their sultans, nor do I blame them for it. Love is what develops when there’s no consequences, no strings attached, which is entirely untrue in the harem’s enviornment. Even with Mahidevran’s arc way back when Hürrem was first introduced and she started to feel like she was losing Suleyman. It looked to me Mahidevran ultimately feared lonliness rather than losing Suleyman himself. Harem rules wouldn’t permit her to fall in love with someone else if Suleyman lost interest in her. He was pretty much her only confidant and the only person she had been intimate with and likely from a very young age, unhealthy attachment is bound to develop due to those curcumstances. We all feel so sorry for royal borne sultanas when they’re forced to marry men they don’t love..but this courtesy is seldom extended to their mothers. It’s all very sad when I think about it. How do you feel about this perspective?

(~Fun fact: I got yours and the last ask in the same day and they are both somehow related to Kösem and Ahmet!!~)

Anyway, I have also read that analysis and it's really nuanced and awesome, Joanna always does such an amazing job with her blog and these posts! <3 It gives an amazing perspective to the nature of Kösem and Ahmet and makes us think hard on whether there are more relationship cases in the franchise where Stockholm Syndrome can be applied and how many women there are in the harem that aren't so in love with their sultans.

I also fully believe that, just like motherhood, love in the harem can't not be toxic in a way, because the environment itself won't ever let healthy dynamics happen, thanks to its very roots. And while mothers of children still have the small chance to forge some kind of a relationship with genuine affection despite of the toxicity, we have a totally different situation with the sultans who are basically on the top of the system that brought them in this mess in the first place. It's not easy to let go of the people you loved and it's even harder to get to truly love a person you not only don't know at all, but one you know you're supposed to at least try to win over by sheer force.

Survival instinct plays a lot into this, because sooner or later you see that you don't have a choice. You do what you have to do or else you'll either rot in this palace with everyone always bossing you around or be done for. Something I see some viewers forget is the way Hürrem was ultimately "convinced" to try her luck out with Süleiman. She wanted to get out of this place and let it burn in hell until Nigar told her what it took to win the game. Keep in mind that she hadn't met Süleiman yet back then and that faint was merely an act she pulled to gain his attention and she gained some kind of an affection for him only after some time had passed. This sheer pragmatism could've turned into something more eventually, but the beggining was precisely this survival instinct that was kept intact throughout the entire relationship and the birth and living of Hürrem's children. I think she had let go of Leo by the time when she met him again, but that letting go pained her so much, as seen by all her breakdowns when she saw him and lost him completely. It's something she knew she had to do; notice how she kept telling him to leave for "his own good" and for "the good of both of them". There is this looming, prevailing fear that if they had escaped, the consequences would be severe and Hürrem had already planted roots in the dynasty: as if she gained attachment after attachment she felt the need to protect. She's now responsible for these children and can't leave them behind for her own possible desires to get out of the system. Ibrahim did threaten the children in front of Leo and Hürrem in the S01 finale and that's a big reason why she decided it would be for the best to lose him in this particular situation, no matter how much it hurt afterwards. Hürrem already had a set goal to fulfill in the dynasty and letting go of Leo became the only plausible option for her thematically and narratively. Everything these women do in the harem they do is to survive, adapting to their circumstances and forging some kind of relationships with their sultans is the peak of it. A healthy dynastic is far from one where you have to be opportunistic at every turn. Even the favored women have to be as careful as ever, because a mistake can cost everything. They have to make sure they always have his approval and be in his good graces, behaving like he wants them to behave, not the way they actually are. The goal they have set for themselves in the harem is tightly linked with their love for the sultan. He isn't only love, he's also power, prestige and reassuring. The Sultanate of Women are probably even the most affected by this, because they are the ones who want to break the boundaries of power and by doing that they have to put the leg work to make him happy and pleased. These relationships need so much work and decisiveness for their flourishment, with the women having to be mindful of the sultan's moods and unpredictable nature. (especially when you have an unpredictable, very short tempered sultan like Murat!)

But attachment is still attachment and that's where Stockholm syndrome comes from. They do their best to win him over, but with doing that for such a long time, they learn to feel something for him. There is so much toxicity in the dynamic, but they get used to it and normalize it in their heads. The concept of the harem itself succeeds to make their life revolve around it and it's not something they question anymore. I absolutely agree that it's not limited to only Kösem and Ahmet - everyone is somehow subjected to it, no exceptions. The relationships each woman of the franchise has with the sultan certainly differ from one another, depending on the different personalities and goals, but its unhealthy core remains the same: it's still a toxic, dependant relationship with a massive power imbalance and will always remain so in these castle walls and rules. The big attachment makes it even scarier for one to discover that they might be losing everything, that's why there is such a resistence from Mahidevran, Hürrem, Kösem, Ayşe, Farya etc. when the sultan accepts or outrightly begins to favor other women and I always roll my eyes when these women get accused of "behaving like that while knowing the rules of the harem" without it being understood from a narrative standpoint - even though they know the rules, it still hurts, because the attachment is ultimately more self-centered than anything: they want the sultan to be all theirs, to have him all for themselves, perhaps for a validation of their efforts to forge and preserve their relationships. When they lose favor, everything seems to be crumbling and falling apart and that is so difficult to accept, you can't face helplessness like that, you can't face vulnerability like that and I guess for that it took Mahidevran so long to get over Süleiman. As you said, she got destructively attached to the person that seemigly gave her so much for years. (she herself even said that she's like a little kid in front of him in the second episode) And her suddenly not being regarded in the same way by someone she thought was her family (I still adore that thematic note of her character and perhaps it's the reason why we didn't get any backstory from her.) was catastrophic to her emotional stability and it took her 46 (55, if we begin from her direct confession) episodes to accept that she has lost and even then she was still trying to achieve vengeance at the very least, by thinking of her rule of the harem as a battle she fought with Hürrem, a last helpless try to prevail over her. (E63: "I congratulate you, Hürrem, you won.") That's also why Hürrem almost killed herself when Firuze seemed to have taken away her Thursdays, without having any regard for the children. It's like a chain, of sorts, that women are stuck in, fighting to the end to be the ones next to him, to the point of wanting to end their own lives if they lose. If they lose, that's the end. If they lose the favoritism or the sultan himself dies, leaving them to rest in the hands of the enemy, that's the end.

That's why Mahidevran and Ayşe getting over Süleiman and Murat respectively and realizing that it was more or less an unhealthy dynamic is so important, because these character arcs help spread awareness of the toxicity of this grown attachment to the sultan and the struggle it takes for them to take account of said toxicity, because of their attachments. Ayşe had a rough path accepting that Murat was the way he is, trying almost until the end to make things right with him, both missing in the process and slowly uncovering his unpredictability. While this realization rendered her to do the inevitable in killing herself along with the kids, her letter to Murat indeed felt so eye opening in this regard, putting this whole deal into perspective. Mahidevran, conversely, also found out his true nature and detached herself from it, daring to openly call out a root of the attachment (E139: "He decides the fates of all of us.") and put the free choice of everyone into light and question. (E139: "God, apart from reason, gave people free will.") It's rare for someone to gain such awareness of the system and that's a valuable quality to have, but in a future where Mahidevran and Ayşe aren't as grossly mistreated, would all this be possible to happen? No, I don't think so. And even from the ones that aren't favourites who are more likely to find this out, there are still people out there that probably would stay trapped in the attachment forever. And favourites would be the least likely to figure stuff out, judging by the series' themes. (Hürrem, E134: "I am the soul of all the women in the world and my existence is hidden in the love of the conqueror of my heart." - this assertion is honestly self-explanatory.)

[Handan's arc also extends on the traumatic response one gives the system and I think this aspect applies to her the most. She's a person with no real attachments that is so traumatized by fighting, she didn't even expect the possibility to win over players like Halime and Safiye. She's trying to adapt to her new role as Valide, give "cruel" advice to Ahmet in order to ensure it and make impulsive decisions, dictated by the fear it would all come back to square 1 again, but when she met Derviş, it turned out that nothing about the system made her fit. Hence, she "adapts out" from it by finding true love and killing herself for that love, leaving everything behind.]

So no matter how much these women come to idealize it, no matter how much they begin to think it is actually love or a "fairytale", there still are so many signs that it's not quite like that and that prevent it from being that. That truly includes everyone in the harem, it can't be denied.

[deputy-videogamer]

Gemini |Part 4|

Summary: Who knew try to ask more question  about the ‘Mad Princess’ was harder than they thought while many people not willing to spill the truth, watchful eyes, and to top it all off are attacks on livestocks

Part 3

As Geralt and Yennefer had asked around the kingdom, they had hoped they would gain more information about the princess though things were going as planned. While they were asking for more information many citizens had horror written on their face, refusing to answer their questions many had even shut their doors when asked. It was always the same situation when they asked the citizens only for them to look around their area, seeing some knights patrolling or guarding certain areas leading them to not answer at all.

They wonder just what the kind did to his citizens that made them so scared about talking about the ex-princess. The only thing they did get was that the king had fabricated the story of the princess going mad, Lucius being controlled like a marionette on a string as follows what its master  tells them what to do, and how the citizens are terrified of the king to the point of being watched.

“We should end here, Geralt. We aren’t getting any information about the princess.” Yennefer recommended. The mage and the Witcher were sitting on a fountain at the heart of the kingdom with no leads. She believed that they should call it day.

“It doesn’t make sense, Yen. There has got to be some kind of information that will lead us to the truth.” Geralt grumbled in frustration. The black haired beauty sat down next to him and started to sooth him.

“We will find the information that we are looking for, but for now we need rest. Tomorrow we will go back in town and look for more clues.”

“And if we don't, what do we do then? Just kill a princess for some misleading information.” Yennefer stopped her comfort as she didn’t know how to respond to the Witcher’s question. Just as she was going to answer him a man had approached the duo.

“Are you the Witcher and the mage that arrived in our kingdom?” 

“I don’t see anyone else have two swords strapped on their backs or any woman wearing black.” Geralt bantered at the man while Yennefer slapped his back.

“Got a job for you then. I’ll pay if you take it.”

“What kind of payment?” Geralt raised an eyebrow based on his clothes. He looked like a farmer, he knew that the man didn’t have much money to pay him depending on what job he was offering.

“About a certain girl.” Both Yennefer and Geralt looked up at the man where he gave them a smirk knowing he got them.

“What’s the job?” Yennefer beat Geralt on answering the man.

“Best if I show.” 

The man went ahead going to the direction where he came from. He then looked over his shoulder when he noticed that they weren’t following them. With no leads and no information the duo had no other choice but to follow this man in hopes the man promised the information they were looking for.

The place that man was taking them was a small village just outside of the kingdom, there were maybe ten farms each had their own livestocks. At first Geralt didn’t see anything unusual about the small village that required his help until they had reached the middle of the village; it was only then that he got his answer. A pile of dead animals that were starting to rot was releasing a decaying smell, all the animals had ranged from goats, cheeps, and cows all dead in a similar way three thin claws marks that didn’t belong to any large animals, from a swarm of small birds.

“As you can see our livestock were attacked in just one day. If you look at each land you will see only one dead livestock, killed in a similar manner.” The farmer explained then looked at Geralt. “Any ideas what our mysterious creature is?”

Geralt walked up to the pile and started examining the damage done of the once living creature. “Not a creature, but creatures. If it was a bigger animal it would’ve attacked and dragged the corpse to be eaten init’s home, but instead the creature didn't attack for food or in defense.”

“Do you have any witness or thing that was left from the attacks?” Yennefer placed her hands on her hips and eyed the man.

“Black feathers.”

Yennefer looked at him in surprise and pulled out the crow feather that they got from the cart. “Like these?” The man eyed them for a moment then nodded in confirmation.

“You said that these attacks had just started in one day, correct?” Geralt stood up, starting to get the picture on what was happening.

“Yep, all in one day. The only one who witnessed it is Old Max.” He pointed to one the homes that just meet the border between the kingdom and the forest.

Geralt tooked the feather out of Yennefer’s hand and looked down at them. This work was obviously the work of a Leshen going back on how the incident with the delivery man and the cart the crows were protecting the man from the robberies, but then why would they suddenly attack the villager’s livestock? Leshen don’t attack unless it’s on defense or there was a sudden unbalance in their habitat, the forest that the Leshen resides in was big enough to leave the village uninterrupted, but then again Lucius did mention that this wasn’t the first time they had requested help so could it be in defense?

No, it couldn’t be. The villagers haven’t done anything harmful that could trigger the Leshen to attack…..unless it was a warning for them. That they shouldn’t go even near the forest to kill their princess or was it to lead them astray from their mission and focus on the sudden Leshen attack? Whatever the cause was, Leshen was smarter than any other Leshen that Geralt had encountered and slain. 

As Geralt was lost in thoughts the wind had begun picking up speed taking the feathers away from his hand. But this wind was no gust of wind, but like a siege of wind blaring through the region. The wind was so strong that clothes that were hung started to flow away, crops that were ready to be harvested were beginning to be destroyed, the animals that were there had panic trying to find shelter or trying to escape the sudden change of atmosphere. 

“What is going?!” Yennefer yelled over the sounds of the roaring winds trying to shield herself from the attack.

“I don’t know, but it seems like it's coming from the forest!” Geralt yelled back to her. Geralt was right of course, the wind was coming in and out of the forest almost like there was some kind of source that was happening.

As the wind grew more violent a red light was starting to appear in the heart of the forest. Both Yennefer and Geralt knew that this was the work of magic; it was definitely not coming from any woodling creature that lived in the forest, but it most belonged to someone who possessed magic. The wind some died down while the red light had dimmed down in the forest, the trio had looked back at the forest, everything was dead silent to the point even the farmers who came out of their homes spoke nothing.

They knew one thing only, you were upset for some reason whether it was another sign of a warning or something else. Geralt and Yennefer need to stop you now before you get out of hand.

Right before the light and the wind had appeared, inside the heart of the forest you were humming a tune as you were making some food for yourself. Currently you are squishing some berries to form into jelly, you licked some jelly off your fingers after storing the jelly in your stone jar. Wondering what you should do next you had heard hooves approaching your home,at first you thought it was some deer, but when you heard the hooves getting closer you knew that it was no deer that was coming towards you.

Peeking down your treehouse, you discover who this was at the end of your tree. During your stay here, Aspen had taken you to meet someone that he and the other residents of the forest called ‘The Guardian’. The location where Aspen had taken you was somewhere deeper in the forest, unlike the beginning and middle of the forest that was full of life and greenery, this part of the forest had become a formidable atmosphere. The once lavish plants had now become corpses of branches, the trees that were once young and healthy were now twistering in an erriely way with no signs of leaves on it. While the sun was still burning it had already felt like it was night while this grim forest. When you look back in front of you torches were all lined up forming some sort of pathway with another line up with rocks between each torche. 

Aspen pointed to the path. He wants you to go alone, whatever lies ahead in the path this ‘Guardian’ will be waiting for you. At first you were hesitant not knowing how you would do if you ever encountered ‘The Guardian’, you didn’t know if they would kill you or if they had other plans for you. As the fear started to rise up in your heart, a sudden motherly comfort prevented any more fear to continue.

‘Do not fear.’

You had heard a voice that can only be described as your mother’s voice had whispered so softly in your ear, though when you looked around to find the voice it was only Aspen who’s eyes stared at you in curiosity.  

‘You will meet an old friend of mine. Offer something of value and it will protect.’

Not knowing if it was really your mother’s words or your only illusions of your thoughts, you decide to trust the voice. The only thing that was something of value was your mother’s choker; it was a simple choker that had the collar made out of lace with a blue quartz that was shaped in diamond.

Taking a deep breath, your once feared expression became all serious. Every step you took the torches lit up as you walked by them, almost taunting you to turn back. But you weren’t going to turn back, you were down running away from your danger, this time you are going to confront it. The end of your path had a huge opening before another path had shown that had the same torches with rock trails. What you notice about that trail was that there was a little dot in the distance before it had started walking on the path.

The dot became bigger and bigger, giving you a chance to see what the dot was. But it was not a dot, it was a creature. The lower part of the body had four deer legs, but instead of a beige color it was midnight black that had it’s entire body covered in scars. The upper part of the body was all lanky and thin, but not to the point where it was all malnourished only enough where you couldn’t see the bones. The longs were elongated to the point where it reached the joint of the leg, while the fingers were about the size of a new grown tree. What was interesting about this creature was that it had a deer skull as its head with deer horns and ears, but instead of regular herbivore teeth, there were fangs that had stuck out of its skull. BY the time the creature had reached the opening of the patchway it was only there that you noticed how tall this figure was. The creature's height was about eight to ten feet tall, its horrible yet fascinating form had towered over your form. On the horns of the creature had strange emblems that were tied with a string and had vines and small flowers that was wrapped round themselves from the base all the way to the tip. 

 The creature raised it’s long fingers to your cheek, creasing it in a gentle manner similar to a family member creasing the cheek of a newborn babe. The finger trailed down to your mother’s choker where it remained on the gemstone, the vortex eyes stared endlessly; you wonder if it was looking at you or the gemstone. Remembering your mother’s words your hands went behind your neck to remove the jewelry. The creature’s figure was then removed as it saw your actions, you then offered your necklace to the creature. The creature clamped it’s fist around to where it was, bringing it up to his eyes. It stared at it for about two minutes then then a motion in the air, that caused the wind to swirl around you. You closed your eyes, bringing your arms to shield you as the wind became more vicious around you. When you opened your eyes again, you were back at the beginning of the pathway where Aspen had waited for you. Just as you asked what had happened to you with Aspen, your wrist had started to burn.  On your wrist was a deer skull that had liquid coming out of the eyestockets, around the skull were vines and twigs forming a circle around it. There was strange on the bottom of the design that you couldn’t decipher, but the way Aspen looked at you meant that you were safe.

Dropping down from your treehouse you greeted the Guardian. “What brings you so far from your home?”

How the Guardian talked was unique in a way, instead of one single voice, there were multiple voices that range from men, women, young, old, soft, croaky. “Misleading information blinds us from the truth. Only a few can see through the lies.”

The phrases they say have always been riddles, some were easy to interpret and others not so much. This phrase was something that you could easily interpret.

“The Witcher and the Mage see through my father’s lies. Hmm go figures.” You scuffed as you walked around your little area.

“Decisions aren’t fun. To take or ignore. The outcome will not be pretty.” Once again an easy interpretation.

You faced them with a sideways smile on your face. “They must choose to kill me or forget me, but each outcome will not be pretty. Surely this isn’t all you have come to warn me about is there?”

The Guardian was silent for a moment, before speaking up once more. What they have said made your eyes become red.

“If that bastard thinks he can do whatever he please just so he kills me. Then he’s dead wrong!” The Guardian felt the sudden change of the atmosphere, the once singing birds that sang their secret songs  had no longer sang almost like their tongues were cut. The animals that were around the area had sprinted away knowing there was danger close. What was really the cherry on top was how the once tranquil breeze had become a violent zephyr.

“I’m not crazy nor I am not insane! Everyone in my kingdom knows, but are too afraid because of HIM!” The Guardian’s leg lifted off the ground a bit similar to how a deer would be scared when they are threatened. “My mother fought for her kingdom! Now this man thinks that because she’s gone he acts like that is his kingdom? I SHOULD KILL HIM WHERE HE STANDS!”

A glowing red light appeared around your form with the winds swirling around you creating a barrier around you. If the Guardian had eyes their eyes would widen as soon as they sense a small and weak fragment of magic. All the nymphs had said you were poisoned by your father, the poison had not only taken your magic, but caused your split personality. So why is that he able to sense magic from you?......Unless your mother has to do something about this? 

Creating a motion in the air, the emblem on your wrist glowed. This emblem was more than just a protection charm, but as a way to calm your other side in case for violent outcomes. Your eyelids had felt heavy. The last thing you saw was The Guardian trotting to you. They picked up your form while he was thinking if he should bring you up back to your treehouse, but that thought was removed when he remembered that the light you created was enough to see outside of the forest. The Guardian didn’t hesitate to bring you to his home, they just hoped that your friends would keep the duo out of the forest until they discover your true origins.

@whitewolfandthefox​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions @seanh-boredom​ @dopepizzaenemy​ @charliestufff​ @whotperlinda​ @imdreamingof-you @dopepizzabouquetzz​ @sadclowngorl​ @mattiej15

[whenimaunicorn]

The Heart of Admiration - Part 4

Charles Vane x OFC slow burn - Part One - Part Two - Part Three

Note: since this story is getting so long, I’ve decided to convert it to a third person OC. She’s really acquired too much specific backstory to be a Reader insert already. So meet Hope Wickham, who hopefully feels like a natural extension of the same character! I’ve never done this before, hope I’m pulling it off gracefully.

Chapter Summary: Acceptance by Vane’s crew comes along with a little drunken violence, but who would expect any less from pirates? Treating Vane’s wound brings more intimacy than Hope bargained for... CW for combat and giving someone stitches.

This episode’s prompt: “I wonder what will get you killed first – your loyalty or your stubbornness?”

The tavern is dark, and so thick with smoke that Hope’s eyes are burning around the edges. But the ale is strong, the company is spirited, and all she sees are wide grins around the table. That’s all that matters to her.

The Ranger crew is celebrating again. They’ve just taken port in Tortuga after their third successful hunt since finding themselves on Miss Guthrie’s shit list; the leads she had provided them since the night Captain Vane stormed out of her office had been more insulting than if she had given them none, and so they put their heads together and sought their prizes outside of the neighborhood of Nassau. The takes were smaller, so far, and not everyone here already knew their reputation, yet, but it was well worth it to keep on feeling free.

“This one’s for that Guthrie bitch,” Anne Bonny growls as she thrusts her tankard up for another toast. “Just ‘cause we all know she wouldn’t want us to have it.” Grunts and guffaws answer her around the long, creaking table that the Ranger’s officers and most sociable crewmen have crowded around. “Don’t matter if we can’t fence our prizes, so long as we can drink ‘em!”

That gets a round of cheers and splashing clinks of pewter tankards. Hope drinks deep to that one, short-sighted as she finds the sentiment to be. Because the real point is, with takes like these they’ve managed to keep the morale of the crew up, despite setbacks. They hadn’t lost one capable sailor over the humiliation Eleanor had tried to deal them. In fact, the experience appeared to be knitting the crew tighter together, with Hope right in there with them.

Her expertise helped, as Jack had predicted. The Ranger’s crew had a reputation for idiocy and belligerence once they got into the drink on shore, but every sailor respects the skill of a navigator that can not only lead them right to the richest prizes, but also point them straight back towards a port where they can waste those riches as quickly as possible. It also helped that Hope had drank a few of them under the table that first night, that her wit was only sharpened by liquor, and oh yes, that she had found a few choice words for Nassau’s despot herself on that evening.

Shane, the Ranger’s boatswain, elbows her deep in the ribs. “Tell us again,” he slurs, drinking entirely too fast as he so often does on nights like these, “how you gave the Guthrie woman a piece of your mind last time we was in her joint.”

Hope presses her lips together in a restrained sort of grin. She resists the urge to glance at Captain Vane; if she looks too worried about his reaction it will only set him off worse. But any mention of Eleanor tends to sour his mood, whether negative or neutral. (Positive mentions simply do not happen among this crew). Her eyes travel as far as Jack Rackham, seated beside the captain, and she can see he is checking on him already. When no flash of concern lights up the quartermaster’s eyes, Hope feels safe to at least start telling the story. “I don’t know what she was thinking, approaching me like that.”

Even though she speaks quietly, many of the side conversations cease, heads up and down the long table swiveling around to pay attention to her tale. It seems like no matter how often this episode comes up, there is at least one crewman present that has not yet heard her tell it from her own mouth.

“She had already failed to perturb the Captain, with whatever she said in that private meeting she called him into after we cashed in her lead,” Hope continues, setting the stage.

“Thought she could drag him in by his ear, like she was his fecking mum,” one of the gunmen interrupts. Nods and grunts of agreement pass around the table. Hope just loves the way the men so gleefully rehash the same old stories when they’re in their cups, loves even more that she’s started to be in them.

“He’s not fallin’ for that shite anymore,” Shane piles on, sending a look up the table at Vane that’s half approval, half challenge.

As usual, Captain Vane chooses the path of least words. “Bitch can rot,” he growls over the rim of his cup. His eyes simmer with more complicated feelings than those three words belie, but only to someone who’s looking.

“Which is what he told her, more or less.” Jack’s melodious voice smooths the story along, taking the attention off the uneasy topic of the crew’s feelings about their captain’s… entanglements. “So on to Plan B, Miss Guthrie went.” His eyes turn back to Hope, and most of the crew’s follow.

“She comes by my table, just stands there at first, stiff as you please. Like I’m just going to jump up as soon as she notices me.”

Anne rolls her eyes.

Hope remembers the way her stomach jumped at that point, her respect for Miss Guthrie not yet lost, but there is no reason to recount that part of the story. “Then she does this little cough, when I keep on drinking, take my next turn throwing the dice.”

“It was a good throw, too,” someone pipes in from further down the table.

“It was,” Hope agrees, “and I had a stack of coin on it.” She takes a swig of ale. “But she just stares at me. And as soon as my hand is on my winnings—‘may I have a word with you, Miss Wickham.’” She does a passingly fair imitation of the woman’s voice, higher and snootier than her own.

“What did she want?”

“She told me she was going to get me on another ship.”

The room always gets quieter at this part of the story. A warm, tingling sort of feeling blooms in Hope’s chest, at the way her new crew takes such pride in this exchange. It reassures her more deeply each time, that she made the right call when she took Eleanor’s offer as an insult.

“’It’s terrible, what Vane is doing to you,’ she has the nerve to say to me. ‘But the Nightingale is coming in tomorrow. And the Walrus.” Groans all around the table. They always groan at the mention of the Walrus. “I’ll get you set up with a crew that’s more civilized.” And every time she repeats that line, there is less booing and more harsh, prideful laughter. Hope scoffs. “Like I’m already in her pocket, a piece to move around on her chessboard as she sees fit. She says to me: ‘Vane can’t force you to do anything.’ And I look right back at her, take the drink out of her hand, and say ‘no, he can’t. And neither can you.” Her neck prickles at the way the men look at her when she tells this part. “I like his ship. I like his crew.’ I lean in, sip a drink out of her own cup, and say, ‘I think I might even be starting to like him.”

More cheering, and fists hammer on the table. They love that part. Everything had felt so crystal-clear in that moment, when Eleanor Guthrie patronized to her like that. Hope didn’t want to be protected, didn’t want to be sheltered or assigned. She wanted to earn what she’d got; and here was a crew she was already bonding with, (drunkenly at least) and a captain who respected her skills so much that he’d gone out of his way to get her on his ship, and respected her mind so much that he’d rushed Jack to make sure she felt she could leave.

“So take your fake concern for my wellbeing, I said to her, and go fuck yourself with it. Since Vane’s not at your beck and call to take care of that for you anymore, either.” It wasn’t exactly what Hope had really said. But every story gets larger in the retelling of it, does it not?

Tankards are banging on tables, toasts are being raised, and Shane whacks Hope on the back in comradely approval. “And that’s the night you became one of us.”

She can’t read anything in Vane’s stillness as he regards her from the head of the table.

 Hours later, Hope and Anne are staggering back into the tavern, arm in arm, coming back from a piss ‘round the back of the building. In this town a woman’s got to have someone right there watching her back before she can even think of squatting down. “Where’s everyone?” Anne slurs, her brows furrowing as she inspects the corner where the Ranger crew used to be sitting. Her head swivels toward the other side of the room, Hope’s following rapidly after.

Many of the crew appear to have moved along to some other establishment, or perhaps staggered down to their tents set up on the beach. Jack and Captain Vane are still here, though, sitting at a table with two men Hope doesn’t recognize. All four of them are positively bristling.

Their Captain waves the women over when he spots them. Anne lets herself be tucked under Jack’s arm, and Hope cautiously takes the open chair next to Vane. The strangers at the table look surly, one with long hair tied back into a disheveled tail, the other’s brown locks cropped closer but no less messy. Their once-fine coats, stained and inexpertly repaired, mark them for fellow pirates.

“Captain Mackinaw,” Vane introduces, wrapping a hand over the top of Hope’s shoulder as he does, “meet Hope Wickham, my navigator.”

She braces herself for the long-haired man to comment on her sex, as so many men do, but this Mackinaw is too preoccupied to do more than nod vaguely in her direction. “I can’t just let this stand, Charles.”

Vane nods. Hope has never known him to be a sloppy drunk, but she can feel his inebriation in the careful way he removes his hand from her shoulder and reaches out for the ale on the table. He lifts it for a long, contemplative sip as his fellow looks at him expectantly. “You want me to back you up?” he offers, in slow, measured tones.

Mackinaw looks relieved. “They’re at the north end of the beach. If we make a show of numbers, I reckon they’ll hand it back over without a fight.” He takes another long pull of his own drink, the gesture much sloppier than how Vane had pulled off. Hope resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“And if they don’t?” Jack asks.

Mackinaw smiles sharply. “Then they’ll learn what it means to cross them that used to sail with Edward Teach.”

 “This is a terrible idea,” Hope growls through her teeth, hefting the cudgel of broken wood she’d picked up on their way down the beach.

“Nonsense,” Jack replies. “It appears they have things well in hand.” Less than twenty paces away, Vane and Mackinaw square up against an even-scruffier captain and two of his largest crewmen. Vane’s body language is bristling, and Mackinaw’s looks mocking even from here.

“I don’t believe Charles Vane has ever been known for his ability to talk his way out of a fight,” Hope retorts. She shifts, squaring her hips, attempting to add to the impression that a full crew of violent, capable men is poised to storm down the moonlit beach at a moment’s notice.

“Good,” Anne hisses, sparing one contemptuous glance for Hope as she brandishes both her knives in the direction of the tents. Mackinaw’s rivals are rousing now, recognizing the threat. “I’ve an appetite for blood tonight.”

Hope’s not even sure why she’s here. This could get every bit as bloody as a vanguard charge, if someone says the wrong word, takes things a step too far down there. Violence is not in her skill set; if anything, she should be handling this part, the negotiations that so often stop swords from crossing. But she doesn’t know Mackinaw; barely even understands the grievance he has with the other man on the beach. Something about a horse, or a woman, or a horse that belonged to a woman… and now good men might get hurt, or even killed, because Vane feels loyalty to a man he once sailed with when they both served under the notorious Blackbeard.

An angry shout. Anne takes a step forward; most of the crew lined up behind follows suit. Vane hadn’t rounded up quite all of his men from their carousing around the town, but combined with Mackinaw’s crew they look like a veritable army ready to surround the other crew’s camp.

Said crew is forming up ranks of their own, however. Mackinaw’s rival does not appear ready to back down, puffing up his chest and speaking loudly enough for her to hear the tone of blustering confidence. Hope knows a failing negotiation when she sees one. “Blood it is,” she says wryly.

She doesn’t intend for anyone to hear it, but Jack cocks his head at her.

Vane’s hand has crept to his sword. Mackinaw’s head tilts; the shabby captain grimaces, glances back at his crew, and then throws himself at his rival. The two captains struggle in the sand, pummeling each other.

Is it going to stay between them, or is everyone about to brawl? Hope catches movement from one of the big men who had been backing that captain up. He takes a step that puts him more fully behind Captain Vane, who had turned to watch the men rolling on the ground. “Watch!” she roars, in inarticulate, impulsive warning.

The men behind her surge, evidently interpreting her shout as their signal to advance. They loose themselves down the beach, stampeding Hope along with them.

She grips her cudgel tight, keeping pace with her crew to avoid being trampled. Her face and limbs flush so hot they’re prickling. She managed to see Vane turn before his attacker could strike, ducking under the blow and knocking the man in the gut with the pommel of his sword as he drew it, but after that she loses him in the jumble of bodies rushing past the both of them, to engage the charging Ranger crew.

Hope runs until she’s stopped, feeling like she’s part of a wave crashing into a craggy shore. She sees the shape of a man, arms raised in threat, and she swats at it with her cudgel. The impact of it thudding into him throws her more off-balance than she expects. But the untampered momentum with which she had hit him is enough to knock the man to the ground.

Anne roars beside her, a ferocious sound, triumphant. She kicks that man across the jaw to keep him down, then thrusts her face close to Hope’s. “Atta girl!”

And after that Anne’s bloodlust is infectious, as Hope finds herself suddenly eager to pick her next target to bludgeon. Her crimson-haired crewmate keeps pace with her, seemingly amused by Hope’s sudden spirit.

A man missing more than a few teeth looms up in front of her, and lands a blow that glances off Hope’s head. She falls back, but Jack Rackham catches her from behind and heaves her right back onto her feet again. Her attacker wasn’t expecting her to come up so fast; nor was he expecting her foot to land so heavy in his gut.

She wants to get to Vane. She doesn’t have time to consider why, only knows that the direction that she should force her feet through this fray is over to where she saw him last. She ducks under fists and shoves bodies away from her. Anne and Jack appear to have the same idea, and they’re better at it, too. Hope hears the crunch of a broken nose to her left, turns in time to see a man dropping to his knees, howling. Blood trickles down Anne Bonny’s forehead, and she doesn’t wipe it away when it reaches her open-mouthed grin.

The fighting ends just about as suddenly as it began. “Yield!” comes the voice of the enemy captain, and his men, for the most part, stand down. When the throng clears and Hope can see Charles Vane again, something in her chest loosens even though the side of his face is puffy and his hairline is stained with blood. He’s holding the shabby captain from behind, sword under his throat, and Mackinaw is gloating in front of them.

 And as far as the Ranger crew is concerned, that’s the end of it. No loss of life, and not too many injuries to show for the impulsive brawl. It could have been so much worse. Hope still doesn’t even understand what it was all about. She follows her captain back to their own beach camp. She follows him through the camp, settling the wounded, watching him check on every man without slowing down. Watching him favor his left leg the whole while, and otherwise ignoring his own obvious injury entirely.

When she notices that the size of the bloodstain suffusing the fabric of Vane’s trousers has definitely been growing, Hope finally approaches him. “It’s nothing,” he grunts, waving her off. “Now where’s Jensen? He came down with us, didn’t he?”

“You’re no good to him, or any of the men, if you pass out from blood loss,” Hope scolds.

Vane looks down at himself, mouth set in an ornery line. He brings the lantern in his hand close to his thigh, and wet blood glitters. He grunts, then puts all his weight on that injured leg and gives her a pointed look, brows raised high. He’s still drunk, she realizes. “It’s fine.” His usual growl grinds tighter across the words, though. And when he tries to take a normal stride past her, the leg buckles.

She reaches out to steady him and finds herself wrapped firmly underneath his arm. He lets her support his weight for just a moment, their faces so close as he studies her expression. His jaw still has a stubborn set to it. Her palms feel hot against his body, particularly the right, which landed close to his heart. “Back to your tent,” she orders. “Let me tend to it.”

His brows furrow and she pushes him up the beach before he can argue further. He takes one step with his weight on her, then shakes off her support while muttering something about the men watching. “Jensen?” he roars, still looking around the maze of tents.

“Sleeping it off,” someone shouts in answer, and only then does Vane turn back to Hope, ready to cooperate.

She scowls, shaking her head a little as she accompanies his limping path toward his own tent. “I wonder what will get you killed first – your loyalty or your stubbornness?”

Vane doesn’t answer. He may not have even heard it. When they reach his tent, he pushes aside the flap and all but collapses inside. Hope pauses for one steadying breath before bending to follow him in. The captain seems the type to be a very difficult patient.

The lantern he had been carrying is set just inside the entryway. Vane settles onto his bedroll, a weary noise escaping his lips now that there’s no one left to observe him but Hope. She’s going to want more light, to examine that wound properly. She looks around for another lantern amongst the smattering of personal effects he’s brought to shore.

There’s rustling behind her as she gets another light blazing. When she turns around, Vane’s got his shirt off, resting back on his elbows and waiting for her.

“I’m glad to see you’ve gotten yourself more comfortable,” Hope says dryly, “but that’s not the half of your body that I need to take a look at.”

Vane grins, and Hope tries to stop herself from blushing. His sun-darkened skin glistens in the lamplight, creating an all-together different effect on her than all the other times she’s seen the man stripped to the waist while sailing. He dips his head in acknowledgment of her words and lifts his hips to remove his trousers.

Her eyes register a long line of pale white skin being revealed to her gaze before she whips her head away, belatedly realizing he’s not wearing anything underneath. The image of the side of his bare ass is going to be hard to get out of her mind now, and she makes an irritated noise at the man. “Cover yourself, please.”

She waits, probably longer than necessary, before turning herself back to face her entirely nude captain. He’s lying back against a cushion once she’s gathered her nerve, with a blanket pulled over only his uninjured leg, and his unmentionables. And is the bastard smirking? She should march herself right out of there.

But then Hope’s eyes fall on the wound that’s been revealed and she forgets her modesty. “Uglier than I was hoping to see,” she mutters, worried, and drops to her knees beside his bedroll.

Vane makes an offended noise. Did he think she was talking about his body? How drunk is he? Hope is a little concerned that he doesn’t seem concerned about the wound in his thigh, slashed down the outer edge about a foot up from his knee. She brings the lantern closer and pokes at the bright red edge. When he doesn’t flinch, she presses a little harder, moving the flesh around to try and get a better idea of the depth of the wound.

“It’s not too deep,” she reports when she’s completed her assessment, “but it could use some stitching.”

“Told you it was fine,” he says gruffly. When she glances up, he holds her eyes. He’s given her many unreadable looks since she’s come to know him. But this one, while he’s laid out naked underneath her, with the flickering light so soft and warm, sends tingles through her body. “You good with a needle?”

Hope blinks. “Yes, yes,” she stutters, searching her pockets for her sewing kit. It’s another feminine role she’s tried to avoid getting stuck in, being the one who mends, but for Captain Vane she’ll make an exception. “Hold the lantern.”

She marvels that his arm doesn’t even waver as she cleans out the wound, holding the light up steady for her above his leg. His face remains almost serene, gaze already on her each time she glances up at him, as if watching her work is all he needs to ignore the pain. She pushes the errant thought away; more likely he’s just drunk enough to feel numb.

She can see the entire length of his body, bare from the swell of his shoulder, down his sculpted waist, over his hip bone and all along his pale white leg. It’s distracting, the way the eye is pulled to the crease where his thigh meets his belly, and—

And perhaps he’s not the only one who’s still a little drunk.

“Hold the lantern closer,” she says, and squints in closer to where she’ll begin her stitching. Tells herself not to think about the body that this leg attaches to.

She thinks she hears a little hiss of air the first time the needle goes in, but it might have just been the wind. When she dares look up again, Vane still has a straight face, contemplating hers.

“It was a foolish risk,” she says as she slides the needle in a second time. “If you took this slash just a few inches in toward the artery, you could have been bleeding out.”

His voice rasps only a little worse than normal. “But I didn’t. And reputations are maintained. It was not an insult Mackinaw could let slide.”

“And his name is worth our risk?”

Vane’s eye narrow. “He would do the same for me.”

“Are you sure?” The needle goes in again, and Hope feels the barest flinch in Vane’s limb. “I’ve known many that wouldn’t care a wit for the suffering of former crewmates.”

“Teach’s crew was different.”

Hope is the one to look levelly up at him, now. She’s heard tell of how Edward Teach came to leave Nassau’s harbor. “Perhaps so. But I would not expect they would still feel that way about Charles Vane.”

Her words cut him, she can see that. He flinches in a way that her prodding at his physical wound could not have caused. “Mackinaw had left before all that,” he says simply.

Hope nods, and drops her eyes back to her work. Just two more stitches ought to do it. Was he trying to make up for that betrayal, was he happy to sacrifice what he had in service to any member of that old crew that might forgive him for having helped Eleanor drive Blackbeard out of Nassau? These are questions she does not dare ask.

“Tonight was foolish,” she says again, after completing the last stitch. She bites off the end of the thread. “Foolish, but noble.” She still feels a small amount of shame when she thinks about the dispersed crew of the Starling, about being one of the handful who now serve under the very captain that had taken their ship and exiled her brother-in-law (although from the letters her sister sends, it seems that he is supporting her just fine pirating out of other cities). She can understand those complicated feelings, the ones that have no easy answer, when facing the fallout of one’s own choices. Any action that smacks of amends must feel like a breath of cool air. Now, exhausted and sobering up in the dim of Vane’s tent, brushing her arm over his lifted knee as she wraps his wound up tight, she finds that she may actually be admiring him.

Part V

Taglist:  @pleasemelafook-outta-ere​ @ladyhubris​​ @summertimesadness101 @acebreathesfire​​ @kind-wolf​​

[missinghan]

「 what am I // stray kids 」

❖ genre : sci-fi; superpower au; platonic relationship au

❖ word count : 3,9k (bullet points only)

❖ warning : explicit language, most likely ain’t scientifically true at all

❖ summary : superpowers manifest in certain individuals once they hit puberty and naturally, those odd abilities will vanish as soon as adulthood occurs; but how will those teenagers protect themselves from the curiosity of science?

❖ a/n : this isn’t a proper fic since I don’t think I’ll actually write smth decent out of this but I don’t want the idea to rot inside my dungeon either- so yea, bear with me through this character intro post(?)

— bang chan ↠ locating ability-wielders & teleportation

· sometimes when he’s running errands for his parents, chan can feel a distinct ‘zing’ ins his bones if someone else with unusual abilities is nearby and can describe their power perfectly to the t; he ignores it at first but learns to make do with it eventually; can teleport another person with him and also needs to calculate carefully before teleporting because he once ends up in the middle of a freeway instead of school resulting from lack of sleep.

· looks intimidating but is the first to talk to a new kid in class and show them around as he’s president of the school’s student council; smiles and laughs a lot once you get to know him, and is also very caring, reliable.

· he wishes to apply for a music production company after his college graduation but his family turned the idea down almost immediately and sent him to a boarding school in Europe.

· chan starts taking notice in strange things at his new school after the first few weeks; for example: how they unreasonably force students to have a daily health checkup, how their food taste like medicine most of the times, teachers don’t really seem to care about what they’re teaching and some of his classmates mysteriously ‘move away’ whenever security shows up at their dorm in the middle of the night.

· after finding out where they actually are via photos of students being locked up inside cells, arms and legs chained up like domestic animals, injected with odd substances on a daily basis which were taken by an anonymous individual, chan secretly packs his stuff and decides to ditch this so-called boarding school for good.

· he works hard to hide his identity ensuing flying back to his hometown for a solid three weeks and the fact that there are more people cursed with supernatural abilities begins dawning onto him; cutting off contact with his family completely, moving from one crusty apartment to another every month, chan tackles this crazy idea of assembling a group consisted of extraordinary people to give him a hand with creating a safe environment for the ‘gifted’ youths.

— lee minho ↠ collapse

· law major, quite the loner, raised by a single mother; didn’t have much since little but his mother’s love and affection make up for everything.

· looks intimidating, is actually intimidating; the only person he talks to in college is his dance coach, doesn’t like school nor has many friends; his slightest glare is as cold as a wife trying to win custody of her children in court.

· minho can make his surroundings crumble and fall apart with his mind, which shouldn’t be confused with telekinesis since he can’t physically move objects to his will; this deadly power is triggered whenever he’s experiencing extremely negative emotions like fear or anguish and he’s not (still isn’t) very good at getting a hold of it.

· a group of suspicious men shows up at his house one day as he returns home from dance practice; they claim to be an agency looking for up and coming talents but by the way that his mother is staring at the ground nervously with her legs trembling, his institution tells him that something’s off.

· he firmly declines their offer with a stiff “I’m uncertain that I’m the talent you gentlemen are looking for, but you should know that when the cops are here to fill out their reports, I’m gonna be very helpful, as helpful as possible.”

· “what other random merry of fucking misdemeanors are going to pop up once they go through your records? domestic violence? illegal substances and weapons possession? human trafficking?”

· with a gun to her head, his mom scrambles to her knees and begs him to go with them, admitting that she’s already signed the contract; if he follows their orders and agrees to become an experimental subject, she won’t have to worry about any financial problems for the rest of her life.

· in the heat of the moment, they ultimately force him to activate his power for the very first time; as a result, his house collapses, the death of his only family and the group of men following suit.

· “I’m too late.”

· chan manages to find minho under the aftermath, severely injured and is hanging by a string of life so fragile that can only be saved after undergoing a twelve-hour operation at the hospital.

— seo changbin ↠ sound waves manipulation

· a good student, reputable within his social sphere at school, and comes from a pretty well-off family.

· changbin is able to bend and control sound waves to his advantage; whether it’s simply for his musical instruments or moving objects around, he can also use something as minor as his own heartbeat when he’s emotionally unstable; using the ability continuously for too long can give him severe migraines and potentially damage his brain to a degree if he’s not mindful of it.

· he stays up late at night to write and produce his own songs, keeping it a secret from his parents; posts his own songs on a SoundCloud account, or performs even live at a random underground club under the alias SpearB if he has the chance to.

· an organization full of outlaw scientists comes across a video of his performance on the web, analyzing how he can enhance the beat, his vocal cords without the help of any form of technology, and just like that, he easily tops the list of their targets.

· having no choice but to do what they want when those men hold his parents hostage inside his family’s mansion, changbin gets sent to the same boarding school as chan but they’re being observed in different buildings for his power is on the more useful and dangerous side; hence, his classes consist of a smaller amount of students and they are put through checkups more constantly.

· he doesn’t really pay attention to the skepticisms that reek off all over the place as he’s too busy being homesick and studying because he fully believes that the harder he works, the more obediently he acts, the sooner they’ll let him go; all hell breaks loose when those photos are scattered everywhere, from the hallways to the bathrooms; changbin takes advantage in the riot to get himself out of there as quickly as he can possibly run to the airport.

· changbin swears to never trust anyone again until chan and minho find him sleeping inside an abandoned grocery store with a pistol inside his sleeping bag, two daggers concealed in his sleeves at all times.

· “are we seriously going to contain some headass who was this close to blowing my brain out of my head?”

· “huh, funny, last time I checked, you almost smothered me to death under a gigantic block of cement when I was trying to save your life.”

· “who are you guys and how the hell did you get in here? I don’t recall not locking the door.”

— hwang hyunjin ↠ permeation & memory manipulation

· a true theater kid, meaning he knows almost everyone but every single student at school knows him; naturally, becomes the Prince after playing one too many male lead roles because of his godly features; rather well-mannered and diligent though he doesn’t look like it.

· mistaken to be a player by every new batch of freshmen that only ever gets to watch him practicing his lines from afar, swooning tremendously whenever he ties up his hair; always carries a camera around, doesn’t like to have too many friends but if you get close enough, he’s probably the most fun to be around, won’t ever judge your questionable life choices.

· hyunjin’s ability allows him to walk right through walls as well as any other solid matters but it will drain his stamina painstakingly, causing him to run short on breaths after using his power to change his costumes faster between scenes; the thicker the wall is, the more strength it takes for him to pass through completely.

· he can also erase a certain chunk of memory from someone’s mind but he needs to physically touch them; has only used this ability one time to wipe his existence out of a childhood best friend’s mind before moving away from his hometown. 

· his interest in photography sparks the moment his uncle comes back from a business trip and gives him a toy camera, it’s nowhere near the real ones but the ten-year-old hwang hyunjin sure takes it very, very seriously; after a decade or so, he has replaced it with cameras that actually work and developed quite the talent for taking photos of sceneries and people (jisung is his number one victim but he can’t care less as long as he looks decent and that hyunjin won’t save any crack ones to blackmail him).

· suddenly gets a sketchy summer scholarship to a boarding school in London (the same so-called school that Chan and Changbin went to), his mom encourages him to go after looking it up on the internet without knowing the chances of her own son being exploited for twisted science is shockingly high.

· and the culprit who takes those photos during a wandering around school after curfew is none other than hyunjin himself; he knows damn well posting those photos means getting himself into trouble but heck, his conscience forbids him to leave this hell-on-earth place without alerting these innocent people.

· so the night before those photos are spread everywhere, in every corner, every edge of the building, hyunjin smashes his camera completely with a baseball bat and burns the broken bits in the school backyard; he tries getting through those sleep-deprived men in their fifties who aren’t likely paid enough with his ability and flees.

· surprisingly, he comes rushing into his best friend’s house right after his horrendous flights only to find him being surrounded by three mysterious men.

— han jisung ↠ plunder

· the jokester of the class, takes great joy in stressing the living daylights out of his professors with irrational questions that aren’t necessarily relevant to the lesson, procrastinates, and sleeps through lessons like there’s no tomorrow but still keeps that shiny ‘A’ on his report card nonetheless.

· being friends with hyunjin results in occasional admirers here and there for him but he does kinda have his own fandom base after being pulled upstage out of the blue in the middle of last year’s spring music festival, musing him an opportunity to show off his rapping skills; because of that event, he takes writing music more seriously with the stage name J.One.

· if jisung is being honest, he hardly uses his power since it’s basically taking over anyone’s body and mind for a maximum of five seconds meanwhile his own body is immobile; and if any physical effects occur (for example, a basketball hits him on the head spontaneously), he’s obligated to endure that pain for that person until they become conscious of their own body again.

· he’s not a creep, he swears.

· and who knows? what if his body gets kidnapped within those five seconds?

· hyunjin and jisung know about each other’s ability but don’t really discuss nor talk about them because they don’t find walking through walls or temporarily possessing someone’s body cool.

· well, that’s that until chan, minho and changbin show up at his house the same day when hyunjin returns from his summer exchange program with a cut lip and bruised knuckles. 

· “han jisung, you’re going to have to come with us unless you want to live inside a cage for the rest of your life.”

· “I’m sorry, are you threatening me?”

· “we’re trying to protect you, smartass, you’re far too dangerous to be roaming the streets so freely.”

· “....me? I’m dangerous?”

· jisung not knowing the slightest bit about his own ability downright baffles chan—he’s only scratched the surface of it at this point; his true potential is if he’s taking over another ability-wielder’s body, he will then take their power for himself; and jisung can’t remember the last time he properly uses it either.

— lee felix ↠ imperfect invisibility

· initially lives in Australia but after finding out about his ability, he moves to Seoul with his parents to live a quieter, more covered-up life without being surrounded by too many relatives.

· an absolute sweetheart, smart, kind, honest, a little slow to read in between the lines at times; can concentrate relatively well on an empty stomach, but gets drowsy quickly after eating, especially big meals. 

· lix is also homeschooled up until high school in order to avoid any unwanted situation; later on, applies for a course that can be taken online for the most parts at an average-ish university to not draw so much attention. 

· since he stays at home most of the time, he spends lots of time playing different video games, experiences random cooking recipes without burning the house down, and teaches himself how to dance through online tutorials, getting awfully good at it fast partially thanks to his natural flexibility.

· he can disappear from a single person’s field of vision for as long as he wants to but it’s still limited and considered flawed since felix can only disappear from the sight one person of his choice at a time; although it can come in quite handy whenever he gets shoved into a dark alleyway by random people varying from cheap pickpockets with a box-cutting knife to muscular men dressed in black.

· learns boxing during middle school so he can still kick asses to preserve his own life.

· felix once punches jisung in the gut and slaps hyunjin in the face with a cabbage after seeing them follow each and every one of his movements the moment he steps out of the supermarket—he’s got used to listening to people’s footsteps over time. 

· “okay, first of all, ow, and second of all, why did I get the punch and he got the cabbage?!”

· “oh, don’t be such a baby.”

· “you two don’t look like those balding dudes in money-dripping black suits...what are you on? crack? what do you want from me? money? food?”

· “of course we’re not balding men in their forties! I take personal offense to that! and please, who do you take me as? a total creep who only ever knows how to follow people with his stupid sidekick tagging along for background noises?”

· “HEY! I NEVER AGREED TO BE YOUR SIDEKICK!”

· “well, it’s time you fucking did then, han.”

· “you know, I suppose this is the part where you two put me to sleep with some kind of drug and bring me back to your excuse of a headquarter.”

· “oh, did you bring the anesthetic pills?”

· “I thought Changbin gave it to you, no?”

— kim seungmin ↠ time-leap

· born in a middle-class family, very studious but also enjoys playing baseball during retreats, takes time to open up to people so he has more acquaintances than close friends but he doesn’t mind, that way he has more time for himself. 

· definitely and never will be the kid who lets his classmates take advantage of his wit, he does do a good chunk of every group project but makes sure everyone has at least one decent thing to do (low-key loves bossing people around); can be pretty distant at first, but he just weirds people out after getting closer and doesn’t hold grudges.

· seungmin is capable of bringing himself back to a specific past event to alter the future outcome though it won’t work most of the time unless he really, really has to for safety purposes or the situation gets out of hands; time-leaping won’t activate if he wants to retake a test but works like a charm when he tries to save a kid on the street from a car accident.

· actually does deep, proper research into other ability-wielders and often stays in school during nighttime to read the news, articles or anything that he can find on the web to learn about how that one cryptic boarding school in Europe that’s accused of abusing their students got shut down all of a sudden, the students never return and family members never bother to look for them. 

· hence, he adapts to hiding his ability and himself fairly well—never takes the late-night buses, doesn’t try to become close and bond with other people, asks his parents to change the door lock every month, burns bills each time he purchases something but he tries not to go out as much as possible. 

· seungmin has seen hyunjin use his power once by accident but decided to say nothing about it; eventually finds chan’s headquarter (which is just his crusty apartment) by following jisung and hyunjin after their practice hour, baffles them all a little but joins in no time. 

· after asking hyunjin to erase his parents’ memory about himself, seungmin gives everyone a hand for their plan of building a school and campus, completely safe and under the radar for other ability welders until their adolescence is over; he time-leaps back to back in order to collect as much information about lottery tickets as he can.

· another flaw occurs when he travels to the past for the third time: his eyesight gets weaker and weaker every time he time-leaps so he starts wearing glasses as a temporary resolution but chan stops him when he tries to do it for the fifth time, saying that they would rather work hard for a little longer than have seungmin lose his vision forever. 

· after over a year or so, they successfully repurchase an education organization and officially establish an exclusive academy for ability-wielders, reaching out to those individuals before scientists can get a hold of them. 

— yang jeongin ↠ superhuman speed

· the quiet kid who most likely won’t talk unless the teacher asks him to answer a question or someone tells him to let them copy his homework; has his earbuds in most of the time to pretend he can’t hear what people are saying so he won’t have to interact with them. 

· joins after you when chan finds him hitting a wall head-on at an abnormal speed while trying to save a kitten in the middle of the streets. 

· jeongin has extremely enhanced agility and reflexes but he still lacks accuracy for he is naturally a clumsy person; therefore, changbin tells him to wear a protective layer under his uniform so even in the worst-case scenario, he can jump off a building and make it out with minor scratches. 

· reluctantly buys lunch for every member of the student council (aka 00 liners + you) on a daily basis although he can’t really see which kind of sandwiches he’s grabbing at and they end up being mushy most of the time. 

· and for those people who say his resting face is scary, he’s mainly just frustrated because of his friends. 

· also usually is the one who returns with the most injuries because of his own ability—he always flees like his life depends on it to save jisung’s ass from being hit by a truck and hyunjin’s camera from being crushed (the sole purpose of the student council will be explained more thoroughly later).

· has single-handedly saved everyone inside a bookstore when a sudden fire breaks out. 

· minho scolds him and felix a lot for spending too much time at the arcade after school instead of doing their required tasks. 

· acts all tough and mature since he’s the youngest of the squad, loves to make fun of jisung for his height but still is and probably will always be a complete child who hates eating vegetables with a passion; gets yelled at a lot whenever there’s a BBQ party since he only ever eats meat. 

· “corn? why are we raiding the Asian market for corn at one AM?”

· “an outdoor, wholesome BBQ isn’t complete without corn, duh.”

· “do you want to get us caught?!”

· “oh please, they’re going to show up either way.”

· “YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE!”

— y/n (reader) ↠ telepathic manipulation

· president of the student council, stubborn, slightly less bossy than seungmin, appears to be apathetic and cranky mainly because you can’t sleep that well; with that being said, you don’t feel too tired during ungodly hours when people are tossing around in the comfort of their bed but snap at irritating people a lot in the morning if they’re making too much noise. 

· your ability allows you to control people to your will, from something as meaningless as slamming their head through a wall to life-threatening actions like forcing them to point a knife at their own throat; it’s somewhat similar to jisung’s power though you don’t have to physically feel what your target is going through and you don’t need to worry about taking over their body.

· the only downside to it is that you easily fall asleep the moment you set your target free.

· minho is the one who gets you out of the laboratory where your parents were working on a huge, secret project about individuals with supernatural abilities for an unknown organization; you’re unfortunate enough to become their first-ever experimental subject which only nourishes resentment slowly, gnawing at your sanity while you’re dreading each day behind those cold metal bars. 

· perhaps joining the student council is what makes your life less depressing, perhaps; you’re far too busy facepalming at the beautiful monstrosity of their friendship and feeding them ensuing returning to the dorm after school since those boys only know how to eat, cooking is too much for them to comprehend (albeit felix).

· when your family was still… normal, your parents sent you to martial art classes every weekend so like felix, you don’t actually need your power to save yourself from some random mobsters on the streets.

· you’re also the only person who eats vegetables properly and even tries to incorporate more fiber into their diets but as always, they never listen, especially hyunjin when it comes to green onions.

· don’t have the best reputation in the academy because the idea of letting the new girl with a seemingly useless ability become president of the student council isn’t very appealing to many people, and it doesn’t help when every member of the council is exclusively allowed to drop out in the middle of a class to ‘collect’ any ability-wielders that chan manages to locate that day since he’s always worn out with changbin and minho from boring paperwork as well as other businessy stuff.

· even when your ability is considered almost perfect, you’ve only used it once when you thought minho was going to sell you off to another place and almost made him put a bullet through his own brain; you’ve refrained yourself from using it since that day.

[scaryscarecrows]

Beggar, Pick Up Your Crown

AN: Title from Jerry Cantrell’s ‘Siddhartha’. Takes place the day after ‘Out of Hell’.

Happy birthday, Jason!

* * * 

Jason wakes from the...he’s thinking the third-best nights’ sleep he’s had in his whole life. First one was...pfft, one’a those random nights, Mom had been feeling okay, and they’d stayed up to see the sunrise and made s’mores on the stove. Second had been after his first. His. Patrol. First patrol.

He has no idea what time it is, and he’s afraid to open his eyes, lest last night turn out to be a dream. He stays still for the moment, concentrating on the cheap hotel mattress under his still-aching body, the smell of complimentary soap and cleaner and that lingering people have been born, had sex, and probably died in this room smell that these sorts of places have. He can hear rain and traffic and general Gotham Living outside and in the rooms around him.

And he’s hungry.

Okay. Okay. He’s woken up out of nice dreams before, and it hurts, but. But he can do it again. One more time.

Please…

He cracks his eyes open.

The room is beige and...rusty orange...and very bright. Well, bright to him, anyway. It’s empty, but he rolls over and, muscles protesting the whole time, peers under the bed. Zilch.

Still unconvinced he’s not hallucinating or unwillingly playing one of the clown’s head games, Jason stumbles out of the warm bed, ankle cracking horribly when he makes it take his weight, and shuffles to the bathroom. Nothing. Nothing in the shower, or wedged into the little cabinet under the sink. He’s alone here.

He lets his breath out slowly, slumping forward against the sink to take some of the pressure off his ankle. He’ll have to look at it later, look at everything later, but...but not now. Not this second, huh?

His hair’s too long; his bangs are in his eyes and he can feel dead ends scraping the back of his neck. No way in hell is he letting anyone near him with scissors. That’s okay. He did self-trims when he was a kid.

He’s out.

He’s out, he’s free of that monster. That bastard’s never going to hurt him ever again. The thought makes him lightheaded, brings an unfamiliar twist to his lips that feels like it might be a smile.

And then he makes the mistake of looking up at the mirror.

The boy-no, he’s not a boy anymore, is he-looking back at him looks dead. He’s pasty white, thin and hollow-cheeked with no spark to his eyes. There’s cuts and gashes all over his face, his nose is crooked, and...and there’s that. The brand on his face, the one that still hurts, the one that screams to the world, PROPERTY OF THE JOKER, IF FOUND, PLEASE RETURN!

I’ll never get away from him.

The mirror shatters under his fist, shards jabbing in between his knuckles and falling into the sink and bouncing off the counter to hit the tiles by his feet. He doesn’t care. He can’t face this he can’t face this he can’t--

This is too much for his ankle; it buckles and then he’s kneeling in the glass, sobbing so hard it’s silent and hurts his throat and chest. He chokes, doubles over so’s his forehead’s pressed against his knees, bites down on his lips to try and...and…

Willis always said, ‘boys don’t cry’. Bruce hadn’t...he’d never known what to do with tears. Or any outpouring of emotion, for that matter. And Joker had loved them. But Jason? Right now, he doesn’t care about any of that. He wants Mom, but Mom can’t be here anymore.

It takes him several minutes to register that the tears have stopped and that he’s just...huddled here on the floor with glass jutting out of his skin. The glass doesn’t hurt, but his ankle does and he slowly and carefully brings it up to investigate.

It’s swollen and hot to the touch and it...something about it doesn’t look quite right. He’ll wrap it, he decides, he’ll get a compression bandage or something later today. Okay. He’s okay. He’s just gotta breathe, get up, clean this mess up because he was raised better than to leave this shit for the housekeeper, and then...if he is where he thinks he is, there’s a bodega two blocks south, one that has a gray tabby that lounges in the window. They’ll have a thing of chips or something he can choke down (safely), maybe bandages. Definitely a hoodie, at least, a nice touristy hoodie.

He can make it two blocks. Like he’s got a choice, but he can make it two blocks.

* * *

The smell of rotting watermelons, cheap ice cream bars, and packaged bread is possibly one of the best things Jason’s ever smelled in his life. He’s starving, and now, confronted with food choices, he knows he’s gonna have to exercise some restraint and not just devour a stale baguette in the middle of the store. Crackers. And maybe a soup-cup-thing, that’s mild. And, uh, cranberry juice, yeah, that’s sorta healthy. And a Reese’s. If the Reese’s makes him sick, it’ll be worth it.

The owner is dancing lightly to the mariachi on the radio and the cat is more interested in the birds outside than in him, which means he can limp through the store on his own sweet time. They do have bandages, and the food he thinks he can do, and a red hoodie* proclaiming, I Survived Gotham. It’ll do.

What’s worrying him-apart from, you know, everything else-is where he found money last night. He doesn’t remember a damn thing after leaving Arkham, and it scares him. Mystery for later, though, because he’s hungry and grateful he doesn’t have to rob the bodega man, who-miracle of miracles-doesn’t so much as look up at him. He pulls the hoodie on the second he’s outside, though, tugs the hood up to try and cover the damn thing at least a little.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He can’t go back to him-he’ll die first-and he can’t...s’like they say, you can never go home again. If Wayne Manor was ever home. 

Left me he left me with him he said he’d always be there and he fucking left me with that bastard--

He just doesn’t know what to do.

He stumbles back into the hotel room, debates on whether or not he wants to use the grody microwave provided, and decides that yes, yes he does. This will be the first real food he’s had in over a year and he wants to try and enjoy it, if that’s possible.

Man, he hasn’t had one of these in...geeze, since before Mom died. They’re not Old Money Approved, after all. Good. He’s not Old Money Approved, either.

It’s done, he decides, when it pops and the lid gets all soft and hot. It smells okay. Safe, anyway, no hint of Joker venom or any other little surprises. The steam curls around his face, making the...the burn a little tender, but it’s fine. It’s fine. He bought it all sealed up and he’s the only one who’s touched it. He took off the safety tin.

So why can’t he eat it? His appetite’s vanished, even though he knows he needs to eat, it’s just…

You gotta eat, baby.

That sounds like Mom, and it should be concerning, but...he does need to eat. And he can’t just chug it, either, much as he’d like to get it over with. He’s gotta be slow and careful.

Cracker! He’ll dip a cracker in.

The soup’s hot and salty on his tongue, miles above the slop he’s been eating in the asylum. Once he swallows the slightly soggy cracker, his appetite returns with a vengeance and it’s an effort not to pour half the column of crackers in, smash them to bits with the spoon, and eat the resulting mush here and now. But he can’t. He’ll be sick. Hell, he might be sick anyway, who knows.

He dunks another cracker in, catches a wispy noodle on it this time. Jesus. Jesus Christ, this is it, he’s living on soup and crackers forever, this is the best thing he’s eaten in his life--

--no. No it isn’t, is it. Alfred. Alfred made…

Not now. Just eat.

That’s right. He can’t think about anything, that’s not...he’s spent a long time, trapped in his own head. Not now. He can’t do that now. Food first.

The soup goes down easily enough, the cran juice a little less so but it stays in, and then he has to admit that yup, time for some self-examination.

He’s not facing the mirror-or what’s left of it-again. It’s better to stay here, to strip off despite knowing that hotel beds are scuzzy, and, well, survey the damage. And there is a lot of damage. Burn scars, wire scars, marks he can’t even begin to trace. He doesn’t really want to know what his back looks like, but he’ll have to find out.

Further poking the ankle says that oh, sure, it’s...healing, or maybe as good as it’s gonna get, but that squeezing certain spots of it makes his vision go white and over-manipulating it is worse than that. He puts the bandage on it, because what else can he do, and struggles back into his clothes. No more. He can’t do more right now.

* * *

Jason does not mean to fall into a fitful sleep, but that’s what happens. He wakes up gasping and soaked in sweat, a man’s shouting echoing in his ears. Sounds like Willis.

After a minute of lying here, he comes to realize that it isn’t Willis, and it isn’t a dream. It’s...lobby, something’s going on in the lobby.

Shit.

It’s hard to move as steathily as he used to, but he’s still quieter than the average schmuck when he slips out of bed and opens the door to creep down the hall. It’s late, which means the clerk should be alone, which makes them easy pickings. People never change, much as Batman insists that they do.

The shouting man has a gun. He’s wearing a scarf around the lower half of his face and he’s actually kinda big. Looks plenty comfortable threatening a woman half his size.

He doesn’t think, just moves; grabs one of the little chairs near the doors and hurls it

Owowowow not good movement not good

at the man’s back. He trips, gun falling from his fingers and sliding under the desk. The woman, wisely, ducks.

“What the fuck--oh, we got us a Batman-wannabe.” The guy cracks his back. “Come on, then, hero.”

He’s out of practice. Doesn’t mean he’s helpless. He dodges the oncoming haymaker and retaliates by going straight for the jugular.

Or, in this case, the balls. Fighting fair does not get you far in life.

The bravado vanishes. It’s hard to be badass when you’re shrieking like a little girl with your testicles twisted in a fist. Jason lets go, headbutts him to get him down, and steps around him to fish the gun out from under the desk.

“Get the hell out of here,” he says, more out of breath than he should be after that. His shoulders hurt from the throw. That can’t be good. “Or pray to God Batman shows up to save you in the next thirty seconds.”

“You son of a bitch--”

“Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven--”

“I’ll kill you!”

He cocks the gun. Little awkwardly, it’s true-Bruce taught him the absolute bare minimum of gun handling-but it gets his point across.

“Twenty-six. Twenty-five.”

The man can’t quite get upright, but he manages to hobble outside. Jason doesn’t chase after him. He’s shaking, a little, and the gun’s awkward in his hand.

“Thank you.” Oh. Yeah. He forgot about her. “I don’t know--he wanted money, I guess--”

“Don’t they all.” He doesn’t turn around. He can’t; he’s way too identifiable. “You’re welcome.” Back to his room it is, to get his crap and clear out. “I’m gonna check out before the cops show.”

“I’m not calling them.” Huh. “They never come. That’s the third time in two months we’ve had someone in here.”

Figures.

He doesn’t answer-what do you say, huh?-, just shuffles back to his room. He doesn’t realize, until the door’s locked behind him, that he’s still got the gun.

Well, he figures, as he stumbles back towards the bed, at least if Joker manages to track him here, he won’t have to go back. He’ll kill the clown or himself, it doesn’t matter which, but he’s not going back.

He crawls under the blankets this time, tries to get a little more comfortable. It must work, because in five minutes, he’s out. Nothing wakes him this time.

THE END

*Arkham!Jason has a fondness for red hoodies even pre-Red Hood; both baby Jay and grown-up Jay are shown wearing one in the prequels. For obvious reasons. :p