#making my friend listen to it with me and we just started the eleventh hour im so excited to get to the Big Thing at the end of the arc

[v-poreons]

Drawing in storyboard pro is so much fun

My dude is having a "you fucking took everything from me" moment whoops 🤭

[linkspooky]

"And we don't have the luxury of thinking of ourselves. We just got to save people. So start by saving me, Itadori!" This actually shows Megumi has somewhat of an agency as a sorcerer. Ater all he vowed to get stronger after Yuji's apparnet death. He doesn't think of giving up being a sorcerer to be a kid. Now, Megumi's rejecting Yuji's help, the very same thing Yuji did to him. Plus, refusing to even try to 'wake up' means the death of other characters (Gojo, Higurum probably more others soon) will be for nothing... because Megumi's being selfish by giving up in the eleventh hour. That's why the fans are all mad at him."

Hello, friend I thought I'd use your post as a jumping off point to continue our discussion. I'm not necessarily trying to argue with you, just further explain my point and why Gege made the story choices that he did.

So one of the reasons I chose Killua as my comparison to Megumi, besides the obvious inspiration Mgumi takes from Killua's arc, is that despite the fact that Killua has many of the same character flaws and setbacks as Megumi he's much more well-received in western fandom spaces.

Killua also has a pretty straightforward arc, he still has character flaws, he idolizes Gon way too much and that makes him incapable of calling out Gon's flaws, or getting Gon to listen to him in his worst moment during the Neferpitou fight where Gon gives up everything to destroy Pitou pointlessly. However, even in those moments where Killua is failing Killua is still portrayed incredibly sympathetically. The audience reaction when Killua is failing is vastly different to when Megumi fails. When Killua is at his lowest point in chapter 241, there's no "get back up loser" it's "awe Killua."

That's because again Killua's arc is so clearly telegraphed. When Killua is at his lowest point, you in the audience understand that he is there and why he can't get up instead of yelling at him in frustration. At his lowest point he's still presented as being selfless towards Gon and chiding himself for not being of use to Gon, he's not giving up because he's too weak to keep going like Megumi is.

Killua on the whole is a lot more likable than Megumi too, but I think this stems from the fact that the narrative of Hunter x Hunter paints him in a better light, he has a mostly positive character arc where he learns to stand on his own two feet and forms a healthy relationship with both Gon and his sister - whereas Megumi has a negative / corruption arc which goes in the opposite direction of Killua's.

However, I would argue because Megumi is painted as more selfish, and allowed to be more unlikable that he is better written in Killua because there's an element of ambiguity that's not there in Killua's arc.

Megumi reaches his lowest point where he can't move similiar to Killua, but instead of spending his last moments thinking about how much he wanted to be of use to Gon, instead he's begging for death and drowning in his own self-pity not even looking up to see Yuji right there in front of him trying to save him.

You're right that he comes off as selfish, and a lot less likable to the audience and rightfully so. I feel like we're supposed to be frustrated at Megumi here for not seeing how much effort everyone is putting into saving him.

However, sometimes characters are unlikable on purpose!

Sometimes character writing and what a characters actions means for their story and themes is more important than whether or not the audience finds that character likable. Sometimes a writer might even have the character make an unpopular choice that the audience will disagree with, in order to make the audience angry and frustrated with them on purpose. After all, you yourself are saying you're worried about all of your other favorite characters getting harmed now that Megumi doesn't want to be saved - that creates tension in the scene. The scene is more complicated now and there's more at risk, because now things aren't as easy as Yuji reaching out and saving Megumi.

Gege is also using a tactic called delayed gratification here. Delayed or deferred gratification is the resistance to the temptation of immediate pleasure in the hope of obtaining a valuable and long-lasting reward in the long term.

Instant gratification would be Yuji's first attempt at reaching out to Megumi working, Megumi reaching out his hand, Sukuna being defeated, Megumi and Yuji hugging and everyone going home happy.

Of course, then the story would be over as well.

By delaying gratification and not giving the audience what they want right away, the effect when Megumi is finally saved, or in my opinion, what should happen when he decides to save himself will be even greater.

As I was trying to illustrate above Megumi's arc is in my opinion better than Killua's, because it doesn't follow a handy dandy roadmap on where Gege is going to go with his character. Things aren't as clear cut and there's an element of ambiguity. Ambiguity in this context meaning what the author wants, Megumi's thoughts and his wants / trauma, and where Megumi's arc is going are not as clear cut.

Gege cited Nasu's writing as a major inspiration on his because they skip explanations and instead let the audience try to explain things and put the pieces together for themselves.

I think when writing gets really good, we reach a point where "What's written is just as important as what's not written." That doesn't really make a lot of sense so let me explain it. Good writing does not spell out everything for the audience, but instead relies on audience inference to fill in the blanks, because then the reader becomes an active participant in writing the story and has to draw their own conlclusions instead of remaining a passive reader.

Megumi never thinks out loud that he didn't want to be a sorcerer and that he wanted to be a kid like Killua did, but there are things in story that implies Megumi thinks that way. The way he thinks he can never live up to Gojo's level or reach Gojo's heights. The way he doesn't even seem to want to. The way that personal connections like his connection to Yuji and Tsumiki is way more important to him then his duty as a sorcerer.

The way that Megumi doesn't ever seem to believe that he's as capable as being strong of as Gojo, and doesn't even seem to want to try either. This passive resistance Megumi shows to becoming what Gojo wants him to be, is basically the only way he ever grasps for agency.

Megumi is kind of like a really lazy smart kid, who never turns in his homework but manages to pass classes anyway because he's good at taking tests. He's so naturally talented that unlike characters like Yuji who are newcomers who have to give it their all - Megumi can just coast on being born with an extremely strong technique and not having to put the effort in for most of the story.

Megumi's choice to coast though is like I said - passive resistance. Megumi never says out loud that he doesn't want to be a sorcerer, but we can analyze from his behavior, his constant habit of half-assing things that maybe there's a reason he can't put his all into being a sorcerer. I mean someone on reddit put this entire collage together on how unmotivated Megumi is to put the work in to develop his talents.

The question is why in the manga where everyone is trying to be stronger, does Megumi keep half-assing things and not put his full effort in, why doesn't he seem to enjoy getting stronger the way say, Maki, and Yuji does. The answer isn't directly given to us, but all the way back in the third chapter Yaga says that sorcerers can't use other people as their reasons for being a sorcerer. It's an incredibly deadly and terrible job and if you don't know your own reason for why you want to be a sorcerer, you won't perform as well and you'll begin to doubt yourself.

Yet, here's Megumi doing that exact same thing that Yaga warned about. Megumi didn't become a sorcerer because he wanted to or for his own reasons. He was groomed into being a sorcerer by Gojo, his options were 1) starve, 2) go to the zen'in and be a sorcerer anyway and your sister will most likely be abused 3) be a sorcerer under Gojo but Gojo will leave your sister alone.

Megumi convinced himself that he wanted to become a sorcerer for Tsumiki's sake, that he was sacrificing himself so Tsumiki could at least continue to live a normal life but he's not even able to protect Tsumiki. When she becomes cursed, he's robbed of his entire reason for becoming a sorcerer under Gojo in the first place, but he has to just keep going on the vain hope that Tsumiki will wake up one day. Perhaps that's the reason that Megumi immediately grew so close to Yuji too, because Yuji reminded him of Tsumiki, but while he failed to save Tsumiki Yuji was still around and someone he could actively want to save.

Megumi doesn't want to be a sorcerer, but he has to be one and so in order to convince himself that he wants to do his job he tells himself he's doing it for the sake of Yuji, or Tsumiki. If he thinks that his sacrifice is somehow helping the people he loves either directly or indirectly then he can keep going.

That small amount of selfishness is the only agency he's able to reclaim for himself, that he's not sacrificing himself for the greater good or trying to save everyone like Yuji is, he's only trying to save a small group of people so he doesn't have to exert himself too much.

However, even that is basically just lipservice to being selfish, because in the end Megumi doesn't really benefit from his own actions. He does everything he does for other people. Even if it's for his own selfish reasons - to give him a motivation to keep going in this really shitty job of being a sorcerer he was forced into, even if he's using other people as an excuse to keep doing his job he's still not really a selfish person. He's not allowed to be selfish because he's not allowed to think for himself or make decisions for himself b/c he's been so thoroughly undermined by Gojo's grooming of him.

This is the paradox that is Megumi Fushiguro. He is presented to us as a very selfish character, especially in contrast to the all-loving hero Yuji, he's much more childish, prone to angst and failure and yet Megumi isn't really that selfish. Because true selfishness requires agency and the decision to decide for one's self and Megumi doesn't have that.

Sometimes, characters will make selfish and unlikable decisions in order to serve a greater story purpose even if the audience doesn't approve of them.

Megumi's character is better written than say Killua's, or even other characters in Jujutsu Kaisen because as a complex abuse victim he struggles internally with his issues, and growing past them instead of immediately getting back up on his feet to do the right thing. It's really easy to sympathize with Killua not wanting to be a murderer, because that's easy to understand. When Killua goes he wants to make friends not be an assassin the audience is immediately on his side. When Megumi doesn't want to be a sorcerer, a job that everyone else in the manga including characters like Yuji and Maki are fine with being and don't question whether or not they want to be sorcerers or get stronger then he looks selfish and weak-willed in comparison.

Megumi's internal struggles to form his own identity and grasp at agency are probably the most complex and best written character work because it's not immediately gratifying. Megumi's arc is not a straightforward arc, things have to get worse for him before they get better.

It's like in season 3 of avatar with Zuko. Zuko looked ready to change sides with team avatar at the end of season 2, but he regresses and sides with Azula instead when he thinks he's getting everything he wanted on a silver plate. It might seem more frustrating to not get what the audience wants, Zuko joining team avatar right away, but by delaying that immediate gratification the payoff for when Zuko does join team avatar is greater. Sometimes it's better to be less straightforward, because then characters feel like people with internal struggles and not pieces you are moving down a pre-determined path.

Let me compare Megumi to a character in story who's arc is pretty universally beloved, but I will argue is less complex than his. You could say for Megumi, well Maki's sister died and not only did she get over it she used that death to climb to even greater heights and she's now one of the most powerful characters in the manga.

This seems to be what readers want for Megumi, for him to get over Tsumiki's death and then live up to the potential that he's been foreshadowed to have. If the audience had their way, the same way that Maki was destined to become the next Toji, Megumi would step up right away after Tsumiki's death, become the next Gojo and become as powerful as Maki.

However, here's my question do we as readers really feel Maki's mourning for Mai? I mean if you were a fan of Mai you probably feel sad at her death because she was a character that you liked, but does the narrative ever take the space to have Maki struggle to come to terms with the loss of Mai?

No, because Maki pretty much immediately gets a power up afterwards. We don't really feel Maki's loss for Mai, because we get that immediate gratifaction. Maki never lays on the ground and wallows, she never gives up, in fact we get some pretty immediate catharsis too because Maki goes on to murder all of Mai's killers.

Mai's death doesn't seem like the tragic event that it is, because it's not played as a tragedy, but as Maki coming into her own power. There's nothing wrong with this I suppose, but it's less emotionally complex because we take no time for Maki to internally deal with the loss of Mai, to feel that loss. Tsumiki is way less of a character than Mai, but her death is an unequivocal tragedy because nothing good comes out of it, Megumi doesn't get to avenge Tsumiki's death, it's only a tragedy, it's only suffering.

If you're satisfied with Maki's arc that's fine, but like I said it's a lot like Killua's in that it's very clearly signposted where we are going. It's narratively convenient. Like, when Maki is at her lowest point, a sumo guy shows up out of nowhere to give the exact words to encourage her and lead her character to the conclusions she's supposed to draw.

Megumi and Maki are both victims of abuse but Megumi's allowed to be a lot more unlikable, he's allowed to stumble, to do things the audience wouldn't approve of. He's not shown to be more virtuous than his abusers, to rise up and get revenge against his abusers, he doesn't immediately free himself through the power of his hard work and determination alone.

In fact compared to Maki Megumi's kind of just a loser.

Yet, sometimes the road less traveled is the better one. Megumi doesn't follow the paint by numbers abused child overcomes their abuser and finds their own strength / freedom / agency arc and because of that he doesn't come off as a character with a character arc, but rather a child struggling to grow up properly in a world where he has no positive adult figures to help grow and nurture him. Just like a child Megumi has no idea how to be an adult, and unlike Maki there's no path to adulthood clearly laid out for him.

In fact when he does try to take steps or reclaim his agency for himself, someone usually appears either Gojo or Sukuna to rob him away of his agency and further sabotage him. Megumi's arc has a pretty clear pattern of one step forward, two steps back. Megumi bonds with Yuji, Yuji dies. Megumi promises to get stronger for Yuji after his death, Yujhi turns out to be alive and also he finds out that his decision to save Yuji after Yuji ate the finger led to fingers all around the world awakening more people dying. Megumi decides to keep this fact from Yuji to spare his feelings creating a wall between him and Yuji.

Megumi creates his domain for the first time, but then in Shibuya he's put into a corner by his father stabbing him and takes two steps back using Mahoraga as a suicide move again another curse user. When he does that too, he thinks about how he'll never be as strong as Gojo wants to be five seconds before calling Mahoraga.

Megumi comes out of the culling games with a plan to save Tsumiki, manages to defeat one sorcerer using his domain expansion and pushing his limits again like he did in the death painting arc, only for Tsumiki to turn out to be possessed and Sukuna to take his body.

One step forward, two steps back.

However, the complexity from Megumi's character comes from this fact, the fact he doesn't just walk down the path the audience wants him to, he doesn't simply do what Gojo laid out for him to make him the next Satoru Gojo. He doesn't find meaning or reason in being a sorcerer, he doesn't get stronger as a sorcerer because he doesn't want to be there.

There's no convenience there, no one pops up with an inspirational speech the moment that Megumi needs it to keep going instead it's the opposite the narrative keeps robbing Megumi of his agency agian and again, pulling the rug out from under him when it looks like he's gotten the strength to stand out on his own two feet and Megumi has to keep going. The narrative rewards Maki and gives her what she wants her arc is basically over, whereas it punishes and denies Megumi at every turn. Maki's arc isn't bad but it is basically already over and it's a lot simpler and more straightforward than Megumi's.

Megumi is also called on to do a lot more than Maki is, because Megumi's issues can't really be solved with a power-up. This quote "let fate toy with you before you die like a fool" is probably one of the most important quotes when speaking about Megumi, because Megumi really is the fool in the fool's journey.

The Fool's Journey is a metaphor for the journey through life. Each major arcana card stands for a stage on that journey - an experience that a person must incorporate to realize his wholeness. These 22 descriptions are based on the keywords for each major arcana card. The keywords are highlighted in the text. A card's number is in parentheses.

The Fool's Journey is different from the Hero's Journey, because the Hero's Journey is the standard narrative for how a character rises up to become a hero, whereas the fool's journey is how a person goes from being an innocent but empty child a fool, a zero, into being a whole, and well rounded person. In Tarot the Fool (0) is basically a newborn, with no identity, no opinions, an empty vessel.

We begin with the Fool (0), a card of beginnings. The Fool stands for each of us as we begin our journey of life. He is a fool because only a simple soul has the innocent faith to undertake such a journey with all its hazards and pain. At the start of his trip, the Fool is a newborn - fresh, open and spontaneous. The figure on Card 0 has his arms flung wide, and his head held high. He is ready to embrace whatever comes his way, but he is also oblivious to the cliff edge he is about to cross. The Fool is unaware of the hardships he will face as he ventures out to learn the lessons of the world. The Fool stands somewhat outside the rest of the major arcana. Zero is an unusual number. It rests in the exact middle of the number system - poised between the positive and negative. At birth, the Fool is set in the middle of his own individual universe. He is strangely empty (as is zero), but imbued with a desire to go forth and learn. This undertaking would seem to be folly, but is it?

Megumi is the most underdeveloped and childish character in the series. He is as people have constantly referred to him, immature and selfish. He doesn't see things for the greater good, because he's ego-centric like a child and can only see what's around him.

What Megumi needs to do is to become a whole person, to develop an entire identity on his own, that's not dependent on Yuji or Tsumiki. He needs to be able to stand on his own two feet.

Now, how does Megumi go about doing that while he's also asked to be a sorcerer, people who aren't allowed to be selfish, who are asked to be identity-less cogs who exorcise curses for the greater good.

Megumi's arc is a lot harder, and a lot more difficult because it's not resolved by him getting a power up. That wouldn't fix his central issue because the problem isn't that Megumi's weak, it's that he's weak willed and doesn't think for himself.

Megumi can't become the next Gojo or the next Toji, he has to become himself.

Yet, Megumi and the audience at large don't know exactly what that means yet. That ambiguity, will Megumi be able to save himself, how exactly will Megumi save himself if he's not taking the hands that Yuji offers him. How exactly will he find the will to live with Tsumiki gone, and with no reason besides himself to keep on moving? It's that ambiguity that makes his arc more compelling.

Also, if Megumi were to resolve his arc by just getting a power up that kind of just means that Gojo was right all along. Like I hate to borrow from Homestuck of all things but this quote heavily applies to megumi and the way he was raised by Gojo.

So in the context the character Dave was raised from childhood by his brother to go through some super ultra ninja training, where he was basically forced to spare with his brother with swords every single day and put through the ringer with training, and that training didn't make him stronger it just made him afraid to fight. Dave can't see himself as strong or as a hero, because he's number one constantly feeling inferior to his brother who has like destroyed his entire childhood and number two because he didn't have a childhood he has no solid basis to build his sense fo self around. There's no strong foundation for Dave because he was robbed of the childhood years that help us form our identity. He never formed an identity, the only thing he could do was try to passively resist what his brother wanted him to be. That's not really forming an identity though, that's saying "I don't want to be that." Dave in his arc is continually reluctant to be a hero, and to go through the steps of a straightforward hbero's journey, because he doesn't want to be like a hero, because his brother was a cool brave heroic hero and his brother abused him.

Dave's character shines in his reluctancy to be a hero, because if he just sucked up all of that abuse and then decided to be a hero anyway then wouldn't that just prove that his brother was right? That his brother was right to put him through all that abuse because look it made him stronger in the end.

Gojo took Megumi's childhood away from him with the intention of turning him into a stronger sorcerer, but it had the opposite effect. It didn't make him stronger or into another Gojo Satoru, it made him not want to become a sorcerer, it made him weak willed and made him cowardly and made him want to run away from danger and made him unable to believe himself to be strong enough to win.

Even Maki's arc doesn't ever suggest her abusers were right. If anything it's the opposite, Maki wanted to be a sorcerer, she would have willingly become one but her family sabotaged her at every chance and denied her the opportunity to become one - only to show that Maki was right all along that she had more potential than anyone else in the family and her family should have given her that chance. That if from the beginning the Zen'in accepted and raised Maki then the tragedy at the end of her arc could have been averted. The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel it's warmth... etc, etc.

So Maki's arc may be way more straightforward than Megumi's, but her arc doesn't suggest that her abusers were right to put her through what they did. However, Megumi just being told to suck up all his abuse and get stronger would be doing just that, because it would mean Gojo was right all along to do what he did, Gojo stealing Megumi's childhood would be right because look how much stronger it makes him.

However, Gojo's actions didn't make Megumi stronger, it made him the opposite, it made him never want to fight, or see blood, or be near danger. It made him passive and cowardly and selfish rather than active and brave and selfless.

Sometimes a writer may have a character make an unpopular choice in service of the story and themes.

You're not wrong friend for pointing out that Megumi comes off like a hypocrite for giving up, when he called Yuji selfish for giving up on his own before the beginning of the culling games. If anything it's worse, because Megumi has chosen to give up at the moment when everyone is basically making a group effort and risking their lives to help him instead of going for the more tactically solid strategy of killing Megumi alongsde Sukuna. Megumi is not respecting the feelings of those who wish to save him, nor is he thinking about how much the others are risking their lives just for the chance to save him.

However, this intentional parallel of Megumi being able to reach Yuji at his lowest point when he wants to give up, and Yuji not being able to reach Megumi illustrates the difference between their characters.

Yuji became a sorcerer by choice. His ideal of wanting to help people is something he chose for himself, and apparently according to Sukuna he believes down to his very bones which is why it's something he'll never waver from. Yuji is the outsider who became a sorcerer by choice, he wants to be in this world - even if it wasn't a total choice like he chose to eat the finger but he didn't think of the ramifications and afterwards his choice was like "die now, or die after eating 21 more fingers." Yuji still views it as his choice though.

Megumi on the other hand never had a choice. All of his justifications and reasons and "I selfishly choose who to save" those are all lipservice, ex posto factor justifications, lies Megumi tells himself to cope with the fact that this life as a sorcerer was forced upon him.

That's why Megumi doesn't have the unshakable determination to get back up at his lowest point that Yuji had, because Yuji at the end of the day is kind of like the embodiment of the ideal sorcerer the way Nanami is, he's decided to give his life to be a sorcerer and live up to what sorcerers should be so he can make the world a slightly better place and then pass the torch to the next sorcerer.

Yuji chose that for himself, and for better or worse he keeps making that choice over and over again. He's resolved to live and die as an ideal sorcerer, and carry on the burden that Nanami left for him.

If Yuji's arc is to figure out what kind of sorcerer he wants to be and then be that person to the very end, then Megumi's arc is the opposite. It's to find out who he is outside of being a sorcerer, because being a sorcerer wasn't his choice it was something that was imposed upon him. That's what Killua's arc is too, Killua's arc is not him learning to live up to his full potential as an assassin because that would once again validate his family's abuse of him. No Killua can't grow up into what his family wants him to be, he has to figure out for himself what he wants, and try to grow into that person.

However, Megumi has that added layer of difficulty in that Megumi doesn't get to use "I want to grow strong enough to protect my sister" as an answer the way Killua did. Megumi unlike Killua gets the crutch ripped out from underneath him. He's not allowed to live for Tsumiki anymore, because Tsumiki is gone.

Now Megumi has to find a way to keep living for himself without Tsumiki, and show that life is worth living even if you lose your loved ones or he sinks. Which as I said again is harder and more complex o Megumi because he doesn't get the simple answer "I want to grow strong to protect my sister" he's called to do more than that and stand entirely on his own.

Finally, Megumi not immediately taking Yuji's hand when it's offered to him adds complexity to the story in another way.

Again we are asking the question, is it possible to save someone who does not want to be saved? It's repeating the same conflict in the past between Gojo and Geto now with Yuji and Megumi. Can Yuji really do anything to save Megumi if Megumi himself has decided to give up and that he's beyond salvation. If Megumi does not want to be saved then what does Yuji's attemps to reach out his hand amount to?

One last thing is I think Yuji's attempts to save Megumi were always going to fail, because as it's already been stated above by Gojo you can't save those who aren't willing to be saved.

In broader story terms though, if Megumi's arc is about reclaiming his own agency then how is getting saved by Yuji a proper end to this arc? Megumi being rescued like a passive damsel is not giving his character any agency, if anything it's robbing him of agency because it's reducing him to a victim to be saved by Yuji.

This is why I bring up delayed gratification, because if Megumi was saved here then his arc would be over and it would also be brought to a pretty unsatisfying conclusion. There would be no real moment where he learned to stand up for himself, he didn't find the meaning in living past the death of his loved ones for himself someone.

Not only is Megumi not letting Yuji save him, but story-wise it's kind of impossible for Yuji to save him because what Megumi needs narratively to complete his arc isn't to be saved.

What Megumi needs is to save himself. So no matter what Yuji did, no matter what heroic speech he gave, no matter what lengtsh Yuji went to to free Megumi's soul for Sukuna it would not have worked anyway, because that's not what Megumi needs.

Megumi needs to become himself. Megumi needs to save himself.

The fact that Megumi doesn't want to be saved, that he doesn't want to keep living, is the struggle he's going to have to overcome in order to achieve these things in the end.

And it will be much more gratifying when he does save himself, because the manga didn't go the easy route and just have Yuji save Megumi.

[anistarrose]

I want to talk about the way aromantic experiences can be represented in very meaningful and validating ways without characters being written as intentionally aro, and also I want to talk about aro-spec Magnus Burnsides headcanons. Luckily, I can do both those things in one post!

During the events of the podcast, Magnus is disinterested in and often straight-up uncomfortable with romance, because of the fate that befell his last relationship, with Julia. I've seen a reading (that I don't think is objectively wrong, though I do not personally share it) that interprets this trait of his as some kind of "sacrifice" he's making on Julia's behalf, being a choice to stay out of other relationships to carry on her memory better. It's a reading that seems pretty reasonable at first glance, but not especially aromantic.

(Because if anything, it almost seems at risk of turning into something like "there is no sacrifice more tragic than not having a romantic partner," right? Or worse, "this is a trauma response that needs to be healed for Magnus to have a happy ending, because being able to enjoy romance is vital to his happiness and self-fulfillment." Both of which are... varying levels of uncomfortable, to me as an aro person. Like, I'm not in the business of telling people how to interpret fictional characters, but I personally can't engage with these without a bad feeling in my stomach.)

However! Back to the various potential readings of Magnus's character! It's worth noting that so much of Magnus's arc revolves around unpacking his trauma, from the destruction of Raven's Roost and Julia's death — and that healing process doesn't change how he feels about romance! The Eleventh Hour is the turning point when he starts to seriously re-evaluate what the trauma and loss made him want, versus what Julia would want for him, and what would let him live in the moment instead of in the past... yet in the Heart Attack segment of Wonderland? Magnus still expresses disinterest in dating.

In Arms Outstretched, then Story and Song, he further internalizes and chooses to let himself be saved and ask for help, instead of punishing himself with martyrdom — and no romantic relationships come up in the epilogue! When he passes away after a long, happy life, it's Carey, — his best friend! — who holds his hand while they wait for the end!

Magnus's reasons for not wanting another relationship are obviously complex — not just a conclusion about himself that he came to lightly, regardless of whether he's on the aromantic spectrum, not on it at all, or deliberately not choosing a label. What makes his arc so unique and special to me, in contrast with almost every other story about traumatized characters finding a happy ending, is that his happy ending isn't contingent on romance! Whenever he says that he's that not into dating, no one doubts him or tries to undermine him (other than Lydia, who's literally trying to feed on his suffering) — and to me, an aro listener...

Well, the way the narrative takes Magnus's wants and lack thereof seriously is just so refreshing.

Ninety percent of characters in fiction who repeatedly stress that they don't want romance or marriage are only shown doing so to set up for the narrative later proving them wrong. It's to contrast with that later point in the story where they "find the right person," or "understand when they're older." Or "stop being so cold," or "stop acting like they're too fucked-up and 'damaged'." Or "overcome their trauma."

It has an air of "wow, isn't this character so ridiculous, for thinking they won't change their mind later?" Or occasionally, "isn't it so tragic, that they can't envision themselves being loved?"

For protagonist-y characters, for heroic characters like Magnus — for any type of character in which "happily ever after" is considered a plausible, fair-game, genre-acceptable outcome — we see the genre conventions also dictate that "settling down in a romance" and the "happy ending" are intertwined. I've seen TAZ posts from back in the era of The Suffering Game/The Stolen Century airing, expressing sentiments like "Magnus not finding someone to love again would be so tragic and mean-spirited, I hate grim and edgy endings like that." While I can appreciate people trying to subvert tropes like "you can only have one 'true love' in all your life," the incredibly non-subversive and ultra-amatonormative belief that "romance is a prerequisite for a happy ending, or even healing arc" is such a deeply unfortunate one to tag on.

I am aromantic. I don't want a romantic relationship. And I find joy in that! I refuse to accept that I need to be "fixed" or "healed" to live a long, happy life, because I'm not broken! What brings me the most joy beyond just living as an aro is seeing stories actually acknowledge that people can find this happiness without romance — like how Magnus's story does! Like how casually and matter-of-factly it subverts expectations — how Magnus says he doesn't want another relationship, and no one comes along to prove him wrong! He doesn't "find the right person" because at this particular phase of his life, and of how he wants to live, there isn't one in a romantic context!

He heals from his trauma enough to find all kinds of joy — doing things he loves, surrounded by people he loves — and not because of, or in service of pursuing, a romantic relationship!

I almost never see fantasy stories where one of the heroes gets to have an arc like that. An arc where they get to live out an ending that I would want. A happy ending that would be happy for me! For people like me!

Magnus Burnsides gives me so much Aromantic Hope. That this is a kind of happy ending that I am not the only one to idealize, and that I could attain, no matter what horrors are being thrown at me in the present. Magnus dies peacefully, after years of assuming that he wouldn't, and he does so surrounded by his dearest friends and family. Who are all so proud of the life that he lived. Magnus was true to himself, to what he felt would bring him healing and fulfillment — instead of what cliché and expectation dictated to him — and he was completely at peace in the end. Ready to rush in one final time.

I immensely doubt that Travis intended for Magnus's story to be an aromantic story in those words, if at all. But Magnus's story resonates so, so much with so many common aromantic experiences. And that means so much to me. I'm so grateful for that. In this day and age, in this world, I needed that.

I needed to have a good long cry about Magnus Burnsides. Aromantic icon, intentional or not.

...

...Of course, because this is tumblr, I want to make a clarification. This isn't some kind of claim like "shipping Magnus with people other than Julia is problematic." It is, however, a thesis statement that "no such ship becoming canon makes Magnus's arc so much more unique." It's an explanation giving full context to how I'm biased, not objective, but willing to argue that it makes his arc so much more meaningful, too.

And most of all, it's a desire to shine a light on a side of Magnus's character and growth that I think goes underdiscussed. Especially underdiscussed through an aro-spec lens. And speaking of which:

Sure, I said I don't think Magnus was intended as an aro-spec character, or that he can only be interpreted as such — but if you made it this far, you know I think this ruff boi's just chock full of aro-spec subtext! So just for fun — and because the world is always deserving of more aro-spec headcanons — let's end this post playing with some different readings of him as aro-spec!

Gray-Aro or Demiromantic Magnus who rarely falls for people to begin with. Why would it be some tragic heroic sacrifice to remain "chaste" and wait for Julia, when not being into romance is just Magnus's default state of being? He's so confused about why people think he's making some tragic sacrifice! So confused, guys! I even wrote a fic about the gray-aro HC a few months ago (link)!

Gray-Aro or Demi Magnus who thought he was just aromantic, no attraction whatsoever, for over a century — until he met Julia, and fell for her (perhaps very, very slowly). But that doesn't change those years gaining perspective as a platonically, familialy loving aro who values those bonds immensely, and always wanted them to remain a prominent part of his life.

Losing Julia devastates him, of course it does — but especially once he remembers the Stolen Century, he knows he has a long-term support system no matter what, and it won't revolve around chasing that unlikely possibility of feeling romantic love again. Why would it? Why would he need to chase something so fickle just to heal?

Aromantic Magnus who feels no romantic attraction, but in the era of Raven's Roost, doesn't not want a romantic relationship. Except, he doesn't after all. Except wait, he kinda does, it's just complicated. Maybe something queerplatonic? Well, he really likes the idea of a wedding, and that's not necessarily mutually exclusive with a QPR, but there's no guarantee his partner would feel that way too, and...

There's just these expectations that go with dating or marriage, of partners expecting him to love them in such a specific way that he knows he can't... and then he meets Julia, who's a romance-seeking aromantic too, with heavily overlapping feelings. Bonding over their similarities leads to dating, and eventually marrying, over a deep platonic love that may or may not still involve cuddles or kisses, or a desire to start a family. They don't panic too much over the labels — they're just so delighted to be with someone on the same wavelength!

When Julia dies, so much goes through Magnus's head. After a while, he can't help but start thinking again about how rare it is for people to want the same things out of a relationship that he does. Or to consider the way he feels for them to be enough. But as time passes, Magnus comes to terms with it more and more. He's happy to wait for Julia again. After all, he's longing, but not lonely. Mourning, but not incomplete.

Aromantic Magnus who is aromantic specifically because of his trauma, but no less aromantic for it. He just can't bear the thought of getting into a relationship again. Ironically, there's a point in time where he thought of himself as a romantic — back while he and Julia were courting each other — that now feels simultaneously so close and so distant. Magnus who has so much to grieve, and grieves this romantic side of him too — at first. Who thinks that there's only two options, for a folk hero in a story like his — settling down to live happily ever after, or dying in battle. And if there's nothing more upsetting, more uncomfortable, than getting married again — then living happily ever after has got to be off the table, right?

Magnus who slowly realizes that doesn't have to be the case. That no, barring seeing Julia again, he certainly doesn't have reason to believe that even time will change this new, alienating part of him — but maybe, it's not so alien after all. Maybe he knows people who won't even question it. Maybe he doesn't have to change it or overcome it to be happy again.

Why is romance some singular thing he has to chase, in order to settle down peacefully again? Why can't he do it with his friends? With his dogs?

And last, Questioning Magnus who might be aro, who might not be aro, and is maybe most likely to be something in between. But it's hard to tell; he's honestly not sure if he'll ever crack it, and.. ultimately, he's okay with that. Because all that matters to him is knowing he doesn't need a relationship to be complete, to take full advantage of his well-earned happy ending — and he's got a great grasp on that one, surrounded by people who never make him doubt it.

Aromantic Magnus Burnsides. Aro-Spec Magnus Burnsides. My aromantically beloved. Thanks, bud, for all the hope when I needed it.

[july-19th-club]

Fic writer interview

@goingsparebutwithprecision tagged me in this one and then i had it in my drafts for six or eight months so now it is out of the drafts and into the queue

How many works do you have on AO3? a grand NINE

What's your total AO3 word count? 82,429, which is almost the length of a short novel.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Grace (SPN), Between Friends (Magnus Archives), Yellow Asters (SPN), In the Valley of the Ever Young (Umbrella Academy), and The Steward (Discworld)

I guess i'd hoped Another Journey (The Untamed) would do better - but I'm not at all surprised that my quick and dirty post-finale (by like a DAY) Game of Thrones thing didn't do well. On the other end of the spectrum, my quick and dirty post-finale-by-eleven-hours SPN thing did great it's my top seller. That's 600ish kudos so we're not talking phenomenal, but still. Goes to show I think the difference between how game of thrones fans handled the ending (buried heads in sand, wept and gnashed teeth, rent hair and clothing, ranted for hours on a slow monday worknight shift to me while i listened, horrified and enraptured) versus how spn fans, who never had expectations to gradually and then all at once disappointing, handled the ending (shrug, make some jokes, cry not because it's ending but because it happened, and then crack open the laptops for some quality writing about the whole thing). We were already prepared for things to be bad, so when they were even more bad than all THAT? We were actually, I think, in a way kind of pleased and satisfied. If it had ended well i think it would've been a bit of anticlimax after all that time. Whereas in Game of Thrones there was still the slim chance that they might turn it all around at the eleventh hour, so when they didn't the viewers just wanted to hide and lick their wounds. Produced much less immediate fic.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? It really totally depends on the comment and my mood honestly. If it's especially long and glowing I try to give it at least a little bit of attention but it might not be right away.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Tie between Another Journey and In the Valley - In the Valley ends RIGHT before a character death in canon, Another Journey ends right after a non-canonical character death. So take your pic. I don't tend to do death for death's sake, but for these two stories it felt cheap to avoid it.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? FINISHED fic? That people can SEE the ending of? Grace, which I now don't like because it's not complex enough and I completely mischaracterized Jack, but that's what Wishes Were Horses is for. Whenever I get around to it. You know.

Do you write crossovers? Not really. I love worldbuilding but trying to marry two disparate worlds is too much for me, I don't like having to do all the logistics. Probably a less pedantic writer would just not care about the logistics but I also don't READ crossovers because the logistics or lack thereof is such an issue for me, so.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? No but back when I was regularly updating Book of Gold (which I'm linking even though I'm probably going to retire that version at some point and start working on a better rewrite) I had a reader who REALLY liked Steve, a character I had no plans to write from the perspective of because I barely remembered him and did not care about him, and still don't really, and that reader would constantly ask me with waning hope if I was gonna do anything Steve related. And I'd avoid saying a definitive no.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Prev apparently has some good Cyrano de Bergerac smut which I now want to read. I personally have never posted any sex in fics, but not for lack of hoping someday to tastefully get it all out there. I just was raised catholic so if I say anything sexual where people can see it i get embarrassed.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? I hope not I haven't checked lol but I only have nine and they're not well known so who give a shit

Have you ever had a fic translated? No.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Nah. When it comes to writing I don't think I could ever split the work I'd want too much control.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? I do not have favorites because the other ones might get sad . this extends to foods, stuffed childhood animals, and books in my reading stack . also fountain pens

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? At this point any of them lkajslkdjfasdf but i really REALLY doubt the immediate future of the Book of Gold, which is a shame because I have all the major beats mapped out in my head. It's just so much more ambitious than even the other long fics I have in my documents files, the scope is years instead of days or months, and it's a lot of planning and prep work that I can't help but feel I should instead spend on either quicker-to-finish stories or original ones.

What are your writing strengths? I think I have a strong voice, a good turn of phrase, that sort of thing. I also think that after years of trying I have gotten good at realistic dialogue that's not TOO realistic as to be unreadable, and I've learned how to be funny. Worldbuilding.

What are your writing weaknesses? Complex plotting, which sucks because I love complex plotting and want to do more of it. Also punctuality, which is not a writing weakness so much as a regular one, and the really big one is character relationships and consistency over time. I struggle to fit all those pieces together/remember whether they fit together when I started. This probably has to do with my social struggles in real life lol it's very hard for me to write characters thinking/believing/philosophizing/reacting differently than I would, at least without falling back into the 'everybody is me' mode that risks them coming off flat. I think my way around this for most of my writing life has been to write from one person's first-person perspective, which helps alleviate that problem, but I'm trying to do different things and expand my skill set/comfort zone.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? It's cool and I like it but I only know one other language than the one I speak and I speak it at a second grade level. So I don't do this much but I enjoy reading it. Love to copy and paste the language I don't know into a dictionary of words and parse it out it's like a fun secret treat.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Discworld TECHNICALLY . but really The Outsiders and really really even before that I have an unnamed undescribed thing that I hope to turn into a short story that is almost not at all like the fic. so i will not discuss it

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? Star Trek (I've written for it but haven't finished and posted yet). Perhaps True Blood. I have some ideas.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? Again I cant play favorites BUT. It's probably Another Journey. It just came together so easily and the structure fell right into place and I managed to do a lot of stuff that was challenging in a way that felt successful. Book of Gold is next to my heart so close that I'm sure it's not actually GOOD and I don't wanna call it 'favorite' because it's a different thing. It's a sibling.

@whileyoureinschoolidothisallday do you want to do a tag game? and any of the other writing mutuals on here who've plied their hands

[adhdlion]

If I could *just* we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

I did something bad at work and spent most of the week waiting to find out if I was going to lose my job over it. My girlfriend and another close friend, within the same hour no less, started a statement with “you just need to…”. I’m already past the end of my rope, and that just pissed me off. I have ADHD. If I could “just” we wouldn’t be having this fucking conversation.

To those of you with ADHD, this is probably a very familiar song. Sing along, if you’d like. For those you who don’t know it, give it a listen. This is the angry version of the song. I know there are other nicer versions you can go find if that’s more your style.

Flashback to first grade: “you *just* need to sit still!” Bitch, I have ADHD *and* RLS. I don’t get to choose when I sit still. You sure as fuck don’t and it’s not a moral failing when I can’t always do it on demand. If I could *just* we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

All through grade school: “you *just* need to sit down and do your homework.” I walk in the door at home and you’re lucky if I remember that I even have homework. If I could *just* we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

Eleventh grade English teacher: “you *just* need to apply yourself!” Yeah, I probably should. Using a magic word doesn’t make it happen, and it’s not like this is a lifestyle choice. If I could *just* we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

College: “why can’t you *just* sit down and do it?” Fuck if I know, you tell me. I try. I bribe myself. I berate myself. I sit there like a good little boy and the words don’t come. The book doesn’t open. The effort doesn’t come. If I could *just* we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

When I go through bouts of depression: “can’t you *just* get out of bed and take a shower?” Bitch, no, that’s what the fucking problem is. If I could *just* we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

For the last several years I have barely cooked at home. “Why can’t you *just* make something simple?” If I could *just* we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

Yes, I know my life and yours would be easier if I were *just* someone else. If I were *just* something else. If I were *just* different from how I am. That’s what everyone has been telling me for almost a half century, whether they realize it or not. Telling me that all I need is this one weird trick to being a normal human being absolutely does not fucking help. Tell the drowning man “you *just* need to swim”. It does the same good to him as it does to me. If I could *just* we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

So the next time you have a friend who is stuck on something that seems simple to you. Or the next time you see something from a stranger where they are stuck. I know you want to help. We all want to help people. But I urge you. It’s so simple. You *just* need to fuck off with “you *just* need to”.

[random-genshin-things]

Savior (Childe x Medic Reader) Ch 8

Link to Ch 7

Link to Ch 1

.

You grabbed Tartaglia's jacket as you headed for the door. This morning you were planning to meet with Anya and let her know about your plans for the day before heading to Northland Bank to return the jacket to its rightful owner. Last night you'd tried to ring as much  water out of the jacket as you could before hanging it to dry. It was slightly wrinkled but at least it wasn't damp or soaking wet.

Anya was already waiting for you outside the inn and her face morphed into shock upon seeing the jacket.

"Please tell me you didn't have a one night stand with the Eleventh Harbinger who left behind his coat." You could tell by her tone that Anya's words were mostly joking, but they also left just enough room for you to admit to anything.

Your cheeks started to burn at the implication. "No! He gave me his coat when it started to rain and I forgot to give it back!" Your tone came out more defensive than you had anticipated.

Anya let out a sigh of relief and a chuckle. "Honestly you really had me worried for a minute. Have you told him you're not interested yet?" Anya had assumed given the history of the Fatui that you would have no interest in getting involved with one of the Tsaritsa's Harbingers. And seventy-two hours ago she wouldn't have been wrong. But now that you'd actually meet Tartaglia, he didn't seem like a bad guy. At least not an entirely bad guy.

You started to fiddle with the jacket in your hands. "Well no... I'm actually heading to Northland Bank to return his jacket..." Your voice trailed off. How exactly were you supposed to tell your friend who hated the Fatui that you were about to go spend the day frolicking around with a Harbinger?

Anya smiled. "Perfect you can tell him then that he doesn't need to repay you for doing your job and that you're not interested in a relationship with him. He's a dangerous person and you need to distance yourself as quickly as possible." Anya's words make sense in any other scenario, hell you would have agreed with them on the boat to Liyue, but now you weren't so sure. You knew she was coming from a place of care.

Pausing for a moment, you tried to collect your thoughts. How do you explain to your friend that you actually wanted to get closer to him? Not quite romantically! But you thought he was a nice enough guy to get to know.

"Teyvat to Y/N." Anya snapped her fingers in front of you to get your attention.

You blinked, your focus back on Anya. "Oh sorry. I was just thinking he's really not that bad of a person." You knew your argument would sound foolish at first glance.

Any gave an exasperated sigh "Oh my Archons. You fell for him." She pinched the bridge of her nose as she spoke.

"I did not. I just think we misjudged him. He spent two hours in the rain running through the streets of Liyue Harbor to help a lost little girl find her father. You should have seen him. People that are all bad don't do things like that." Your outburst seemed to shock Anya and she looked slightly taken aback before regaining her hardened, logical self.

"Man. You've got it bad. How do you know that it isn't all for show?" Anya replied, crossing her arms over her chest and giving you that look that only friends can give that says "don't screw up."

Your brows furrowed as you contemplated your friend's words. "I guess I won't know until I get to actually know him." You said with a shrug. It was true that there was a lot of risk involved with anything even close to the Fatui.

Anya let out another sigh. She knew she couldn't dissuade you from interacting with him if it was what you wanted. It was your choice in the end and all she could do was show up with a getaway boat if things went south. It would also be hypocritical on her part to tell you to stay away from him. Anya knew that people had told you to stay away from her when you first met. It was your very obstinate nature, wanting to get to know someone rather than listen to hearsay, that she had benefited from in the past. Anya still did not trust Tartaglia. If he hurt you he would pay. But she chose to trust your judgment.

"Just be careful. It could all be smoke and mirrors." You gave Anya a nod of understanding and she continued, "I'm going with Zhongli back to Guili Plains today. If you need anything you can come find me."

Bidding Anya goodbye, you headed to Northland Bank.

Upon entering the bank, you looked around at the architecture. There were columns lining the side inlaid with lacquer panels and bank boxes. You could see an upper level with more bank boxes that wrapped around the room. The ceiling was coffered with two hanging six sided lanterns. There were people on either side of the room chatting and a single woman standing behind an intricate desk. She was dressed in a purple and black Snezhnayan uniform and wore a signature fatui mask.

You walked up to the desk and she addressed you. "Welcome to the Northland Bank. How may I assist you?" She barely looked up at you as she addressed you clearly bored.

"Is Childe here?" You ask, clutching the jacket just out of sight.

The teller gave you a forced customer service smile. "Lord Harbinger Tartaglia is not in at the moment. Would you like to wait or shall I take a message?" Her words dropped with false care and slight condescension.

You lifted up the jacket that had been at your side causing the teller to gasp and two men off to the left in fatui uniforms to hone in on you.

"Can you tell him that I still have his jacket? He forgot it last night." Your words cause even more of a stir. The teller seemed to go pale for a moment.

"G-Give me one moment please." Then she slipped away into the back.

The two men now approached you. "Excuse me. Are you the doctor that Lord Harbinger was searching for?" The two men exchanged a look as one of them asked you their question. You turned to the men surprised by their words. Had Childe asked around to get help looking for you?

"Umm, I guess so. I am a doctor. Do you two work under Childe?" The man on the right perked up immediately at your words. He was rather tall and wore a red Fatui uniform complete with a signature Fatui mask.

"Yes! Thank you for your assistance to Lord Harbinger Tartaglia!" He bowed to you as he spoke, taking you by surprise.

"We are honoured to serve under Lord Harbinger Tartaglia!" The other soldier chimed in. He wore a blue uniform and you could see a hint of a smile under his mask. It seemed like these two were overzealous fans of Tartaglia. The man in red nods along fervently with his colleague's words.

"The Harbinger can be very harsh, you see. Lady La Signora hands out threats like greetings, Lord Scaramouche will kill a subordinate if they anger him, and Lord Il Dottore even runs experiments on his recruits." The one in blue let out a shiver at that thought almost as if he'd witnessed some poor sap who was a part of Dottore's 'experiments'.

The man in red continues, "But Lord Tartaglia is kind; he never threatens us and never uses lethal force! He even honours us with a spar from time to time to help us hone our skills." He seemed so thrilled about this as he spoke to you.

You stood there shocked for a few moments just taking in the information they freely offered. These men were happily singing Tartaglia's praises. It almost felt like you had wandered into a fan club meeting. Finally, they froze and stood at attention.

"There you are. I believe I promised you a visit to Bubu Pharmacy." The voice that reached your ears was that of none other than the subject of your conversation. You turned to Tartaglia who was standing behind you wearing a deep burgundy button up and his usual grey pants and red scarf. He grinned as he saw you.

"You left this last night." You said, handing back the jacket that you had carefully folded up for him.

Behind you, you could hear his subordinates chatter. "I didn't realize they were lovers." The man in red whispered, leaning into his buddy.

"Hush. They'll hear you." The man in blue replied, elbowing his comrade.

Oh Archons, everyone is getting the wrong idea this morning. You chose to let it go with a sigh. After all, it didn't really matter and Tartaglia did seem to care in the slightest. After putting on his jacket, Tartaglia slung his arm around your shoulder and led you away to Bubu Pharmacy.

"Your friend isn't with you today?" He remarked, smiling at his good fortune to have you alone for the day.

You shook your head. "No Anya's actually with Zhongli. They went back to Guili Plains." You thought that was probably for the best or she might be glaring down Tartaglia for the entire day.

The two of you walked to Bubu Pharmacy chatting amongst yourselves. You were quite excited to discuss the different medicines and medicinal herbs that were native to Liyue. Bubu Pharmacy was a rather large building without a door. There was a single counter and behind it the walls were lined with drawers, each labeled with different medicinal herbs. When you arrived, you introduced yourself to the pharmacist while Tartaglia stood leaning against the doorway. The pharmacist, Gui, informed you that Baizhu, the owner, was out at the moment, but he was still happy to answer any questions you had. You spoke with him for a bit on the medicines and herbs you'd read about, taking notes on his responses. You were particularly interested in the effects of Glaze Lily and Qingxin since they are not native to Sumeru.

"Ah Qingxin is a bitter herb used in a wide variety of Liyue medicine. It is used in the treatment of sore throats and headaches, in herbal blends meant to aid in digestion, help recover from chronic illnesses or poisoning, and in fatigue-alleviating balm." Gui said as he pulled out some for you to look at.

"Fascinating. It has so many uses. In Sumeru, we use Henna Berry paired with Mint for treating headaches." As you spoke with Gui, a fatui soldier suddenly arrived and addressed Tartaglia.

"Lord Harbinger..." Tartaglia listened to the hushed whispers of the soldier before turning to you.

"It seems I'll have to leave you for now. Work always seems to find me at the worst times." Tartaglia spoke with a sigh and smiled sheepishly. It was clear he didn't want to leave quite yet.

"It's alright. I'll see you later." Tartaglia grinned at your response and gave a quick nod.

"I'll try to make it quick." And then he was off.

You continued to speak with Gui for a little longer before deciding to get lunch at a stall nearby. Tartaglia had been gone for a while. After waiting for a while longer it began to appear that he would probably be busy for the rest of the day. Deciding you could go find him tomorrow, you began to make your way to Guili Plains in search of Anya.

The trek to Guili Plains was long, especially on foot. You weren't even half way when you heard a peculiar noise. It was a mechanical buzzing and clanking like that of a large machine moving. You froze at the realization of your own thoughts. There shouldn't be any machinery out here unless... A feeling of dread settled in the pit of your stomach. Frantically looking about you saw the source of the sound, and the source of your dread: An active ruin guard. And it was heading right for you. You were completely unarmed and unprepared. Realising that you had little in the way of options in a fight you chose the next best available option: flee.

Immediately you took off in the opposite direction. The ancient machine was slow, so while you stood no chance unarmed in battle, you might be able to outrun it until it lost track of you. It was your only hope. So you ran dodging attacks as you struggled to get away. Your lungs were burning with the fast intake of breath as you tried to keep up your pace and keep your blood pumping. Sweat was beginning to collect on your brow and make your clothes stick to your body. But you kept going.

Until you felt your ankle give way. You let out a short scream as your hands and knees suddenly scraped the ground. Your left foot had been caught in a small ditch bringing you straight to the ground. Knowing you wouldn't be back on your feet in time, you searched for anything you could use to defend yourself or buy more time. Pulling free a rock you threw it as hard as you could in the directing of the raging machine. But it was still getting closer. You frantically search the ground around you for something, anything that could assist you.

At that moment, you saw a flash of blue whip past your face accompanied by the beating of fast paced steps getting closer. You looked up in time to see Tartaglia burst past you, rapidly firing arrows and clashing with the ruin guard. Using his battle prowess and vision, Tartaglia sliced down and tore through the ruin guard. With a final shot to the core, the ruin guard froze, sparks flying, then collapsed to the ground. Tartaglia was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling as he turned to you. In an instant, he was back at your side, arms wrapped around you cradling your head to his chest. His grip on you was tight as he clung to you. It was hard to tell if he was comforting you or himself at that moment.

"I-I thought... I thought I'd lost you when I heard your scream." His voice crack with emotion has held you close, pressing you into his chest like you were the most precious thing in his world.

The sound of his voice made you realize how scared you felt. Your cheeks felt warm and wet and it took you a moment to comprehend that it was your own tears that were starting to run down your face leaving a salty, shimmering trail in their wake.

"H-how did you...." Your voice trailed off as your lungs fought the intake of air coupled with your churning emotions. Tartaglia's grip on you tightened slightly at the trace of fear in your voice as your tears wet the front of his jacket.

"I went back to the pharmacist but he said you'd left. I figured you must have gone to find your friend, so I went to find you." He finally pulled back just enough to bring a hand up to your cheek. Using the pad of his thumb, he softly wiped away your tears as if handling delicate glass. But they just kept coming.

"I was scared. I-I thought I was going to die." Your voice wavered slightly as you spoke, betraying the emotions welling up in your chest and springing forth through your tears. Your fingers wrapped around the fabric of his jacket as clutched it in your fists trying to ground yourself and seeking his comfort. Tartaglia pulled you back into his arms in a warm embrace.

"I was scared too... I was scared I'd lose you just when I'd finally found you." Tartaglia's body shook slightly as he spoke and indication of how truly scared he felt when he'd heard your terrified scream cut off abruptly. His hand tightened its grip on your shoulder as if he was trying to remind himself that you were still here in his arms, and you were safe.

You stayed in his embrace until your tears had ceased. Even after you had calmed down neither of you made a move to separate. You don't know how long you stayed like that wrapped up in his arms. But it didn't matter. They were firm and offered the promise of safety. At that moment, you never wanted to leave them.

.

Link to Ch 9

[hubbie22]

Here is an ask well half an ask from the lovely @meddowscrl please don’t hate me 🥺 I just can’t do happy endings. I tried, I just couldn’t. I can only do angst. I like to suffer ~nervous laughter intensified~ Also, please excuse the writing, I have a respiratory infection and am heavily medicated.

You were happy, weren’t you?

“I want a divorce.”

You stare at him, you had only asked if he wanted to change the drapes. And the answer, turned your world upside down. He had been your boyfriend since 1968, your husband since 1972 and yet with one sentence he was now nothing.

“The drapes, I just wanted to change the drapes.” You mutter out like a hapless child.

“We haven’t been good for months.” He looks at you, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

“We haven’t?” Since when haven’t you two been good? Since when haven’t you two shared one brain cell? That was news to you.

Roger stands firms, flicking his long hair back. “No, Y/N.” He sighs, “We haven’t been us for months.”

“Is there someone else?” You look at him, searching for something. “You promised me. You promised me.” The words come out like a chant or mantra, what you held onto when he was on the road. A promise from another lifetime ago.

He sighs, as if he wants to tell you the truth. But he looks at you, and he sees the brokenness he caused. And he can’t bare to make it worse. So, he lies.

“No.”

You walk past him, and he grabs your hand and you think for a moment he will tell you he change his mind. But he hasn’t, and you tear yourself away from him trudging up the staircase.

“Y/N, this has been a long time coming. I’m not happy…. I’m not happy with you anymore.”

“A long time coming for who?” You can’t even look at him while you are packing your things. Most of which, he bought you. So, you only bring what you can into this relationship with yourself. “For you? Because I was happy.” There are tears streaming down your face, like a waterfall, “And I thought we were happy, it’s news to me that we aren’t. And that’s we haven’t been for sometime. Or maybe that you haven’t been.”

You sit across from him in a London high-rise, a wood table between you two and armed with a divorce lawyer. It happened fast, or maybe you were out of it the last few months.

You looked over at Roger, his hair was shorter the last time you saw him.

He stopped by your new apartment to drop off things you left, you could remember his shocked face when you open the door. You heard rustling outside and curiously you opened the door to see Roger crouched down, putting a box by your door. Blue eyes meet yours, and it was like time hadn’t passed. And maybe that’s why you treated it that way, maybe that’s why you went with the old routine. And you wonder if it was the gleam in his eyes, that let you believe that there was something to hold onto; that hope remained.

“Just some bits and bobs of yours.” Roger said, fumbling his keys in his hand.

“Thanks, Rog.” You can’t move from the door frame, the gaze y’all shared unbroken. Years of memories dancing between tha gaze. The squeal of the kettle you put on earlier makes the both of you jump.

“Cuppa? I still have your favorite biscuits.” You couldn’t stop yourself from buying them. It was just normal. And sometimes normal in this new word you didn’t know, was what you needed to sleep at night.

“Really?!” His blue eyes light up, and you motion for him to come in. Staying for tea was a dangerous thing, an old and easy routine. It was weird being so comfortable with someone, who was leaving you behind. Funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Maybe it was because of the easiness of it all, that you left yourself fall back into the comfort of it all. As of you two were old friends, not two lovers frayed at the seams. Because of that easiness, you let yourself entertain a thought that maybe you could save your marriage. Put back the broken pieces into something recognizable, but it wasn’t enough. The yearning, the reminiscing of old times through the stuff he brought to you somehow turned into fumbled kisses and clothes thrown around haphazardly. It was something you thought would change the course of where your life was going. Instead of reconciling, it turned into Roger sneaking out when he thought you were asleep. It turned into your lawyer, letting you know Roger wanted you to have more than you asked for. It turned into more resentment and hurt from you, how he could use you and then leave you. How could he so easily but all those years together aside? It turned into something that shouldn’t have happened. And it turned into something that would stay with you forever. A funny word forever, because forever never is forever.

“Sign this, and your divorced will be finalized. All assets obtained during the marriage have been split, due to Mr. Taylor’s wishes.” Your lawyer says looking at you, sliding the papers across, while Roger’s lawyer speaks, “You will be comfortable, and well off Y/N. My client has been more than generous. In fact, I’ve never seen a settlement this amicable from the side of the main breadwinner .”

You sign the papers without any words, you don’t even look at Roger. You realize as you sign on the dotted line, this will be the last time you will use the surname you used for years. Funny how something you thought would never change, would be stagnant in your life just fades away. You then pass the papers across the table back to Roger’s lawyer, you watch as the lawyer slides the papers over to Roger for his signature.

And when Roger takes the paper, you stop breathing you wonder if his mind will change at the eleventh hour. But, he signs it without any hesitation. It’s a fluent and flawless movement, very unlike Roger- really. Part of you breaks at that, it was like he didn’t care he was closing the door on years of his life. Closing the door on you.

You stand up, smoothing out your wide legged pant suit. After the divorce, you had dipped your toes back into the world of working for a living. Putting that masters degree in business to use, and now it was time to separate yourself from the last of the rock n roll lifestyle you loved. And you turn to walk away, high heels on the marble floor when someone grabs your wrist turning you around.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N.” Roger looks at you with concern in his blue eyes. And you wonder if it’s for the friend he was losing, and not the marriage he let go of so easily.

You look at him, “I will. Don’t forget to wear your glasses, we both know you are blind. Don’t forget to call your mum once in while, she misses you. And try not to get so angry at the boys, they mean well.”

“Even after everything I’ve done, you don’t hate me.” You spot something in his eyes, you can’t put a name too. An emotion that seems out of place, it was almost looked like guilt and forlorn.

“I told you a long time ago, I could never hate you. No matter how much, I may want too. I just can’t.”

“You are too good, Y/N. I’ve forgot to remind myself of that. Maybe that’s why…” he drifts off, “Even those daft band mates of mine agreed. Never let me forget it. But, Im sure they are out to drive me mad!” He says with a small smirk.

“With the drum sets you destroy, I doubt the plan to make you mad.” You make a small sound, something between a strangled “hmph” and snort in retort.

“Same old, Y/N.”

“By the way, I have something to-”

“Roggiee!” A voice like a bell cuts through the hushed words you tell him.

You both turn to see a girl, or really a woman bounding toward y’all. And you look toward Roger, and you see the look in his eyes. A look that used to be reserved for you. And it clicked, the guilty look etched in his eyes, not even moments ago. The guilty look he wore that night. The whole reason your world was being upended and ruined. It was for her.

The bitterness filled you up, the way he could so easily toss you aside. The look you threw at Roger was one of pure resentment and unbridled rage.

“You lied.” Your hushed words, that come out through clinched teeth drip with a malice.

He looks at you with wide eyes, as if he was trying to shelter you from the truth. And you see that damned look again. “Y/N, please. I just couldn’t tell you.”

But before you can answer, she comes up with a smile on her pink lips and a twinkle in her dark brown eyes. “You must be, Roggie’s lawyer! I’m Gwen.” She smiles at you. And her smile is sickly sweet, and almost innocent.

It makes you want to scream, to throw something, to do something other than what you are doing.

“I’m Y/N, actually.” You extend your hand to her. Her eyes go wide, and she looks at Roger, who goes to her side immediately.

“Y/N, please listen.” He hold onto her side, and the whiteness of his knuckles against the material of her dark dress don’t go unnoticed by you. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with her.”

Gwen chimes in, “We honestly tried to stay away from each other, we just couldn’t. We were drawn to each other.”

If you weren’t so bitter, hurt, and angry perhaps the romantic side of you would find that notion tragic. You had read about it in books, and always rooted for the star-crossed lovers. But, now you were the collateral damage, you were the woman scorned.

“When we decided that what we had was something, I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell you that I was in love with someone else, when you were there from the start. I just didn’t want you to find out after I got back from tour-”

“He couldn’t see you broken like that.” Gwen finishes for him.

You can’t even begin to comprehend the information given, you were gobsmacked. You were completely barred raw, for everyone is this godforsaken lobby to see. And because of that, you selfishly did not want to see how genuinely happy he looked with someone else. Someone who wasn’t you. So, you used the words you knew would cut him to the bone. “So, you thought it was better to make me believe it was my fault you weren’t happy. That I was ignorantly living in one sided marital bliss, while you were falling in love with someone else? While you were planning to leave, I was planning for a life with you?” Your eyes are blazing, your face hot with rage, “You thought it was better to make me believe I was the problem? I can’t believe you! After everything I did for you? After putting my life on hold for you?! This is how you repay me? I deserved the truth, but you, the both of you took that from me.”

“I just-” He sighs, “I just wanted to be happy again, and when I’m with Gwen I’m happy. And I was going to tell you, I was going to tell you that day with the drapes. But, you then you uttered that damn promise. And what was I supposed to do? How could I break my best friend? I’ve always been the asshole to everyone, but you.”

“I love you.”

You look at Roger, his long blonde hair disheveled with bright blue eyes. “I love you too, you are my friend. My very best friend.” You bump your shoulder against his, and let out a giggle.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

You stare at him wide eyed, “Oh.”

“I have been for sometime.”

“Rog, I love you too. But, that doesn’t mean I want to date you. I know how you are, you will grow bored of me and find someone else. And love is sweet, but it’s not your nature. I don’t think I have it in me to me hate you, or to lose you. Please don’t make me lose my best friend.”

“You don’t get it, Y/N.” He looks at you like you hung the moon, and you like it. You crave that look. “I don’t want anyone else, it’s you. And I think it’s always been, and always will be you.”

“You promise? You promise it’s only me forever?” You bite your lip and stick out your pinky finger, like you had done so many times growing up.

“I cross my heart and hope to die.” He says as he raises your intertwined pinkies up to kiss it.

“And in that moment, I was back in Truro laughing with a curly haired little girl, and then I was in uni with that same girl, who was my best friend, I saw that girl. And, I couldn’t do that to her.”

You look at him, your face cold as stone. “I’m still that girl, I haven’t changed. You have. And that’s okay, it’s okay the change that’s life.”

That is how it ends, with a look of heartbreak on your face as the elevator doors close on the sight before you. And when the doors open, and you are greeted by the sight of the lobby. You realize, you didn’t even tell him what you wanted too.

Would it change anything?

[genshin-impact-writings]

May I request a songfic for Wicked Game for Childe x reader? Like, he's in love with the reader but he keeps pushing them away because he feels like it makes him weak etc. Can have a sad or happy ending, whichever you prefer! ❤️

I'm so, so sorry for the long wait, dear! But I couldn't decide where I wanted to go with this, so I kept working on other requests but it's finally done. I really hope you're still interested in this and like what I came up with. I decided to write a more happy ending because I wasn't in the mood for making it angsty, hope you don't mind that. Anyway, have fun reading and take care! <3

Btw, I listened to this version of the song while I was working on this.

Wicked Game – Tartaglia/Childe x gn!reader

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you It's strange what desire will make foolish people do I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you

The day he had met you was one he would never forget. With nothing more than a single glance and a soft smile you somehow had flipped his whole world upside down, a world he had carefully constructed around himself when he became the Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers. It was almost funny, really. No one had ever managed to throw him for a loop, not even the strongest enemies he had to face on the battlefield – until he had stumbled upon you on that fateful day in Liyue Harbor. Suddenly, nothing he knew before seemed to make sense anymore. And after a few seconds of staring at you, he realized that he was irretrievably lost.

Lost in the way you smiled at him and the other customers that came to the small tea shop you worked at. Lost in the way your pretty eyes gleamed in the pale light of the moon when he saw you after dark. Lost in the warmth and comfort he always felt when you were around.

And as the time progressed and weeks and months went by, Tartaglia understood that it was more than just a crush. He was so in love with you that it almost hurt him physically.

And yet, he knew that he couldn’t allow himself to feel like that. For someone like him, it was dangerous to care about someone, not only because his enemies would never miss an opportunity to hurt him by hurting the ones he loved but also because feelings like these were nothing more than a distraction, a hindrance that kept him from completely focusing on his missions. Tartaglia couldn’t afford messing up, not when he didn’t want to disappoint the Tsaritsa. After all, he had sworn an oath, an oath to always put her and her interests first, and he couldn’t do that when someone – when you were all he could think of. You were the first person who crossed his mind as soon as he woke up and the last one he saw before drifting off to sleep in the evening. It was wonderful and terrible at the same time, and yet, there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling deeper in love with you.

It would be smart to avoid you, hoping that these feelings would disappear someday but still, he found himself visiting the little tea shop you worked at every day. It was embarrassing, really, given the fact that he knew absolutely nothing about tea but instead of listening to you as you explained the tea varieties and different ways of preparation, he kept staring at you, taking in your beauty and indulging in the warm, fuzzy feeling that always welled up inside him when the two of you crossed paths.

And the fact that you seemed to like him too didn’t make things easier. It was so hard to pretend that he didn’t care for you, to push you away over and over again, but for the sake of your safety – and to protect his stupid, foolish heart from shattering into a million pieces – he needed to keep you at distance. He needed to be strong, not only for his homeland but also for you – he needed to protect you from himself and from the things he did in the past and would do in the future.

Even if it meant that he would end up alone again.

Even if it meant that he had to break your heart.

No, I don't wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart) No, I don't wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart) With you With you

Tartaglia had started avoiding you one and a half weeks ago, not visiting the tea shop once and heading into the opposite direction as soon as he saw you on the streets, and still his heart started to beat faster when he thought about you or heard someone mention your name. He hated to act like this; he hated to hurt your feelings but what else could he do? You’d be better off without him, as well as he’d be better off without these distracting feelings.

At least, that was what he tried to tell himself.

And it worked surprisingly well – until he bumped into you on your way to work that morning. He hadn’t noticed you at first, or else he would’ve chosen another way to get to Northland Bank, but now it was too late to turn around and leave.

“I’m sorry,” he said, carefully avoiding your gaze as he helped you picking up your belongings that you had dropped. “I didn’t see you.”

Your lips curled into a soft smile. “It’s no big deal,” you replied. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you at the shop for a while.”

“Oh, about that…” He didn’t finish his sentence. It had been foolish to believe that you wouldn’t notice it. One time, you had even called out his name when you saw him near the shop, only to see him fobbing you off with a brief wave of his hand before turning around and leaving without giving you another glance. “Well…”

“You’re probably bored by my rambling about tea, huh?” you guessed, still smiling at him like you were really glad to see him again. “Don’t worry, I’m not offended if you are.”

“No, that’s not – that’s not the case.”

Your eyes were twinkling in amusement, and before he could look away again, he suddenly found himself staring into your eyes, his stupid heart skipping a beat as your smile grew wider. “That’s good to know,” you said softly. “But I was thinking… maybe we could meet up later, I mean, when – when the shop’s closed. You know, like-“

“Like a date,” he finished your sentence, his mouth suddenly so dry that he barely managed to get the words out. No, no, no, this couldn’t be true. How was he supposed to reject you when you asked him for a date, looking at him with his hopeful expression in your eyes? Just how?

“If you don’t want to that’s fine, too,” you mumbled, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Tartaglia chuckled. “If I don’t want to?” he repeated and shook his head in disbelief. “Oh, (Y/N), I’d love to go out with you.” The words were out before he could stop himself. He knew that it wasn’t right, that he should take it back right now but as soon as he saw the genuine happiness in your eyes, he knew that there was no way back. And, if he was completely honest for a second, he didn’t want that anyways.

“I’ll pick you up at your house at – um, let’s say, tomorrow at 8?”

“Perfect.”

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

He didn’t show up.

Once again, you darted a nervous glance at the clock above the table, probably for the millionth time today. It was already half past 9 and Tartaglia was nowhere to be seen. An hour ago, you had tried to calm yourself down by telling yourself that he would be here any second now, that he was held up by someone or something but now, it was hard to think positive.

With a quiet sigh, you plunked yourself down on the couch. Tartaglia had stood you up, and it was stupid to deceive yourself by trying to tell you otherwise. He obviously had no interest in going out with you, it was easy as that. Perhaps he had only agreed in the first place because he didn’t know how to tell you No, or maybe he had fun going around and making others feel absolutely miserable.

You didn’t know, and you didn’t care.

No, that was actually a lie. You cared. You wanted to know what was wrong, why he wasn’t here with you right now and why he had started to act like you weren’t even friends anymore about two weeks ago. Overnight, he had changed his behavior completely, starting with not visiting the tea shop anymore through to blatantly ignoring you whenever your paths crossed. But no matter how hard you tried to make sense of it, you simply didn’t understand it.

And the fact that he invited you on a date, only to stand you up, confused you even more. His behavior made no sense at all, whichever way you looked at it.

You sighed again. In the beginning, your relationship had been so easy. You never had any trouble understanding him and you had always assumed that he liked to spend time with you. Heck, for a while you had even thought that he returned the feelings you had for him.

But apparently, he didn’t.

You buried your face in your hands, trying to fight back the tears that were welling up in your eyes. What kind of game was he playing? Did he even realize how much his behavior hurt you?

And I don't wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart) No, I don't wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart) With you

“You! Stop right there!”

Tartaglia froze as he heard your angry voice. For a brief moment, he considered acting like he hadn’t heard you and just walk on by but deep down, he knew that he owed you an apology and an explanation why he hadn’t shown up to your date almost one week ago. The truth was that he really had wanted to go out with you – but at the same time, he had seen the opportunity to make you hate him by standing you up which would hopefully help him to get over you.

So much for that, he thought to himself as he slowly turned around to you. You were staring at him, your eyes filled with pent-up anger. “I was convinced you’d ignore me again,” you said, arms akimbo. “But it seems you’ve finally gathered the courage to talk to me after you skipped out on me last week.”

“Yeah, about that-“

“Stop,” you interrupted him. “I don’t want to hear your half-assed apologies. I just want you to listen to what I have to say.”

He pressed his lips together and nodded. In all this time he had never seen you so angry and it was obvious that you were about to release a tirade but he knew very well that he deserved it. He deserved that you didn’t even give him the change to explain himself.

You huffed at the contrite expression on his face. “I’m not going to fall for that,” you warned him. “So don’t even try.”

Tartaglia nodded again, still not saying anything, just as you had told him.

“Great. Listen, I really don’t want to steal your precious time,” you replied in an undertone of utter sarcasm, “I just want to understand what’s going on. We’re friends, aren’t we? Damn, my silly self even thought that we could be more than that for a second but that’s not – that’s not the point now. I only want to know why you treat me like I am not in the least important to you all of a sudden.”

When he didn’t reply anything, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Hello? Haven’t you got a tongue in your head?”

“I don’t know what you want to hear, (Y/N).”

“The truth, Tartaglia,” you stated simply. “I don’t need any apologies or justifications. Just the truth.”

Tartaglia shook his head. There was no way he could tell you the truth because then, he’d have to explain why he was so afraid of falling love, why he was so afraid of being weak. This was none of your business; it was his burden, not yours. You shouldn’t even worry about things like that; you should be in your shop, happily smiling at customers instead of wasting your time with someone like him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said when the silence between the two of you became unbearable, your voice shaking ever so slightly. “If you don’t want to be with me, just tell me. I can take it. But stop acting like you care, only to ignore me the day after! Stop pushing me around like that.”

Tartaglia was painfully aware of the fact that you were on the verge of tears. Everything about your posture told him that you were about to lose your composure, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to say something. He knew that he had treated you like garbage, that he had hurt your feelings over and over again but what was he supposed to do now? There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to turn back time and wipe the slate clean.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, completely helpless, while you stood there with hanging shoulders as tears started to stream down your beautiful face. “I’m so sorry.”

“I should’ve known better,” you sobbed. “I should’ve known better than to fall in love with someone like you!”

In that moment, he felt his protective instinct kick in. It didn’t matter that he had promised himself to stay away from you or that he was the reason for your tears. All he wanted now was to comfort you, to reassure you that everything would be fine again.

In an instant, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his body, his hands gently caressing your back as you buried your face in his chest. “Don’t cry,” he mumbled, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “Please, darling, don’t cry.”

He held you close, uttering apology after apology and patiently waiting for you to calm down. When you finally pulled away, your eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. Your lower lip was trembling, almost as if you were trying to fight back even more tears. “I hate you.”

“I know,” Tartaglia replied softly and reached out to brush a strand of hair from your forehead. “I deserve that.”

“I don’t really hate you,” you whispered.

“I know,” he repeated and cupped your face with both hands, gently wiping away the tears on your cheeks before he leaned in and brushed his lips against yours in a soft, almost chaste kiss. It didn’t last long, and yet it was enough to make him realize that being in love with you didn’t make him weak. It made him strong.

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Star-Crossed

Summary: Virgil has known since he was little that some day he's supposed to meet his soulmate and fall in love with them.  You're supposed to date, then fall in love, and eventually ride off into the sunset to the sound of wedding bells and a happy life in front of you.  You're supposed to look forward to meeting your soulmate.  You're supposed to plan your life around them, because you're supposed to want to.

He's not sure what exactly you're supposed to do when someone else gets there first.

There’s a way these things work, Virgil knows.  Of course, everyone’s story is different, because people aren’t made with perfect cookie cutters.  But there’s a general way that these things work.  It involves meeting your soulmate, getting to know them, dating and falling in love, ending with a wedding at an appropriate age.  You’re supposed to be tailor made for each other, your love story written in the stars, to the point where communication is easy and problems aren’t hard to overcome.  Now, that’s of course not how it always works in real life, because people are complicated and problems can be just that.  But it’s supposed to be relatively easy to ride the wave to your happy ending, wedding bells and cheers and riding off into the sunset.

For most of his life, Virgil had craved that ease.  Relationships that didn’t come pre-packaged for success were hard, and he wasn’t very good at them.  It took him until eleventh grade to make any friends.  But even when he did, they were proof that soulmates made everything easier.

Roman, Patton, and Logan had the kind of soulmate story people dream about.  The three of them had been best friends since childhood and started dating in their early teens.  They’d had their general share of problems throughout the years, but overall they were good.  Their story made them popular too, and Virgil couldn’t imagine why they’d taken him under their wing, but here he was.

With popularity-by-association came pressure, though, and Virgil couldn’t name the number of times he’d panicked about what would happen if he didn’t live up to the soulmate story of his friends.  It was what they expected of him, in the way that they never said outright, but Virgil could tell they were thinking it.  He knew for a fact it’s what his parents expected of him, as unlike his friends, they had said it outright.  He wondered why exactly they felt the need to make that clear.  Did they know something?

Because in the end, that was the point, wasn’t it.  Nowhere in the general “way these things work”  did your soulmate story allow you to be here, in your crumbling backyard treehouse, wrapped in the arms of someone you love but shouldn’t as they kissed your damn brains out.

Virgil couldn’t give an exact name for what he and Janus were.  They weren’t quite dating, but they definitely weren’t just friends, if the way Janus’ hand was tangled up in his hair and pulling him closer had anything to say about it.  He did know that Janus made him feel alive, in a way he’d never quite gotten from anywhere else.  He wouldn’t trade Patton, Logan, and Roman for anything, but there were times the expectations they came with made him terrified.  His parents made him feel more trapped than anything else, though he didn’t think that’s what they intended.  But here, with Janus, he felt like the world could burn, and as long as he had Janus there with him, he would be perfectly content to just watch.

Virgil shifted enough to see the outside of the treehouse, and pulled his head up slightly.  “Janus,” he murmured.

“What, I’m busy,” Janus murmured back, shifting his lips on Virgil’s neck.  Virgil gasped and pulled in a breath.

“Janus,” he said again, though his voice sounded significantly higher than a second ago.  “The sun’s rising.”

“Oh, my, alert the media,” Janus said, moving up from his neck to capture Virgil’s lips again.

Virgil pulled back.  “You can’t keep kissing me to shut me up,” he said.

“But it works so well,” Janus crowed, leaning back in.

“Janus,” Virgil groaned, but wrapped his arms around him anyway, letting them both move back slowly onto the floor.

“You have to go, you know,” he murmured in a moment he pulled back to breathe.

“Mmm, I can’t convince you to stay just another half hour?”  He kissed the corner of Virgil’s mouth and Virgil held back a whine.

“You are very persuasive,” he muttered.

“Ah, one of the many reasons you love me,” Janus said, moving to the other corner of his mouth.

“I’ll love you less if we get caught out here,” Virgil said.  “You know how early my dad gets up.”

“Really?  Getting caught during one makeout session, that’s all it takes?”  He pulled Virgil up closer to him, wrapping his arms around his back.

“Janus,” Virgil said, pushing him backwards.  “It’s not about that and you know it.”

Janus sighed, dropping his head onto Virgil’s chest.  “You ruined it with seriousness, Virgil,” he whined.

“It’s going to be ruined with a lot more seriousness if you don’t go,” Virgil said, trying to ignore the way that Janus’ lips still looked so very tempting.

Janus had to have noticed his staring, because he smirked and leaned back in.  “Yes, and it seems like you want me to leave so much,” he whispered, right before connecting their lips yet again.

Virgil heard the soft click of a lightswitch, easy to hear with nothing else going on— well, with only one other thing going on.

Virgil pushed Janus back more firmly.  “Janus,” he said.  He looked over towards the house, where the kitchen light had just come on.

Janus sighed, and laid back down on top of Virgil.  “Curse your early bird of a father.”

“Yeah, he’s the worst,” Virgil said, only half joking.  “I’ll see you on Monday, alright?”

“How ever will I last,” Janus said with a smirk, leaning in one last time and kissing Virgil much more gently, the way he did goodbyes.

Virgil returned the kiss as Janus sat them both up, and pulled back a second later.  “Text me when you get home,” he said.

“I will,” Janus agreed, moving to climb down the treehouse ladder.  Virgil watched him go for a second before leaving himself, climbing across the tree branch that led through his open window.  He made it just in time to look out his window and spot Janus leaving through the gate towards his front yard.  He paused and looked up at Virgil first, giving him a sloppy salute as if saying “There, I did what you wanted.”  Then he turned and vanished into the early morning.

Virgil smiled to himself and sank down against his windowsill.  God, he loved that idiot.

He waited until he got a text half an hour later that Janus made it home before climbing into bed.  It would still be a while before he fell asleep, though, the buzzing feeling Janus left him with made him feel too alive for that.

Not for the first time, Virgil wished that the “way these things work” was something different.

…

“I’m just saying,” Roman said, his arm looped through Logan’s as the three of them walked to class.  “That if you’re going to give students an assignment over break you deserve nothing less than death.”

“Agreed,” Virgil said.

Logan shook his head at them both in disbelief.  “We are students,” he said.  “Our entire job is to learn.  If the teachers have assignments to grade over break, shouldn’t students have something to work on too?”

“No,” Roman said.  “It’s the teachers job to grade assignments.”

“Did you miss the part where I said learning is our job?”

“I don’t see myself getting paid for this shit,” Virgil muttered.  “And I don’t want to write a whole damn essay over break.  I don’t care if ‘learning is my job’ or whatever you think.  The whole point of a break is a vacation.”

“It’s just one essay,” Logan said, raising an eyebrow.  “You can get it done and still have a vacation.”

“Logan, your ‘I can write essays in an hour’ thing is kicking in again,” Roman said.  “It takes most people longer to write an essay than it takes you.”

Virgil didn’t catch Logan’s response, having instead caught Janus’ eyes on the side of the hallway.  Janus looked at him as he passed and smirked, giving Virgil just enough time to think about how absolutely gone he was for this boy before he passed behind them.

“Virgil?”

Virgil jerked around to face Roman.  “What?”

“Don’t you agree?”

Virgil blinked.  “Oh, yeah, absolutely.”

“See!” Roman exclaimed, spinning to Logan like that won the whole argument.  Virgil was happy to help.

They both continued the argument that Virgil had lost all interest in until they reached the lunchroom, where Patton was already sitting at their usual table.

Virgil pulled his phone out as he sat down, because if he’d passed Janus… yep.

 Janus: So how are the universe’s favorite love birds doing

 Virgil rolled his eyes.

 Virgil: You don’t always have to act like you hate them you know

Janus: Excuse you?  They are the worst.  I despise them and everything they stand for

Virgil: They also happen to be the only people who actually tried being my friends

Janus: Ugh

Janus: You and your hatred of loneliness

Virgil: If you want to talk to them they wouldn’t hate it you know

Janus: And surround myself with soulmate perfection stories all the time?  Please

 Virgil sighed.  They both knew he could see right through Janus.  While Virgil now had three close friends and gained the friendliness of everyone else by association, he remembered the things that you said when you didn’t have anyone and were trying to convince yourself you were okay with that.  “As if I want to surround myself with soulmate perfection all the time” was up near the top of the list.  Virgil had said it more than a couple times himself before he realized the soulmate perfection people were actually pretty nice.

“Hey, Virgil, whatcha looking at?”

…About most things.

“Nothing,” Virgil said, putting his phone back in his bag.  “Just making notes of assignment stuff.  Roman’s right, an essay assignment over break is BS.”

“Right?” Roman said, and started launching into his complaints.  Virgil sat back in relief and listened to him start to rant, rubbing his thumb over his phone case in his pocket.

He had other reasons to hate the essay assignment.  He and Janus had been planning what to do over spring break for months.  Janus had gotten his mother’s permission to take the car and go with a friend on a couple of day trips, so long as they didn’t like, leave the state or something.  Virgil had been looking forward to going somewhere fun with Janus, exploring the places Janus had picked out, finding places to be alone… maybe pretending to be soulmates.

Virgil looked down at the name on his wrist and sighed, wishing once again that it said something other than Ethan Baker.

Virgil went through the rest of the day trying to figure out a way to finish that essay before break.  He had a week, but he had other assignments due before break.  He could probably ask Logan for help, come to think of it.  He texted Logan after school as he was heading out to Roman’s car.  Logan stayed after most days to tutor.

 Virgil: Hey, could I maybe stay after Thursday to work on my essay with you

Logan: Sure, I don’t have any tutoring on Thursday.  Try and have an outline and an argument decided on by then, okay?

Virgil: Will do

 Virgil slipped his phone back into his pocket and glanced up as he approached Roman and Patton, who were standing outside Roman’s car waiting for him.

“Sorry,” he said as he ended up in front of them.  “Trying to figure out how to get an actual break.”

“Do you have a plan?” Roman asked, getting into the driver’s seat as Patton took the passenger and Virgil got into the back.

“Yeah, I’m meeting up with Logan on Thursday to write the essay.”

“Oh, can I join?”

“You should ask, but I’m sure he won’t mind,” Patton said.  “I need a treat.  Anyone else want ice cream?”

“Sign me up,” Roman said as he started to back up.  “Jenny’s?”

“Absolutely,” Virgil agreed.  Jenny’s was their favorite ice cream place.  He wanted to find a way to take Janus some day.

Patton texted Logan to meet them there when he was done with tutoring, and then they all headed there.

Virgil grabbed his notebook once they got there and started writing down ideas for his essay in between bites of ice cream.  By the time Logan got there, he had a couple ideas to narrow down, and he pulled out his phone to text Janus.

 Virgil: You don’t have any assignments over break, do you?

Janus: Fuck no.  What monsters do you have as teachers?

Virgil: Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it handled.  Just making sure you’re ready for our trips too

…

Turns out, Janus had quite a few good spots to go to, with different goals in mind.  They went to ice rinks, outlet malls with Hot Topic, and a state park all within the same week.  The park ended up being Virgil’s favorite.  It was filled with giant rocks that people were encouraged to climb on.  They found a high up rock tucked in between trees overlooking a river, and stayed there for hours appreciating the view, and appreciating… other things.  If anyone saw them, the names on their wrists were covered, and people were much more likely to assume they were soulmates than otherwise.

It was as they were getting into the car to leave the park that Virgil turned to Janus.  “Janus?”

“Hmm?”

“We can’t pretend we’re not dating anymore, can we?”

Janus huffed a laugh.  “I don’t think we can,” he said.  “Not really.”

“Should we talk about that?”

“What part of it?”

“You know what part, Jan.”

Janus sighed.  “No, Virgil,” he said.  “I’m not going to force you to tell everyone now just because we’ve admitted we’re dating.  Believe it or not, I like things as they are.”  He leaned over and kissed Virgil as if to make his point.  Virgil’s hands drifted to hold the sides of his face as he kissed him back.

“Hey,” Virgil murmured as Janus pulled away to breathe.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Janus replied easily, like he barely had to think about it, and Virgil pulled him closer as sparks lit inside his chest.  It was going to be awhile before they left the park.

…

“What about that hotel, we could stop there.”

“We are not stopping at a hotel, dumbass,” Virgil said, shoving Janus’ head from the side.  “These are supposed to be day trips.”

“Oh, Virgil, how could you deny me the chance to spend a night with you?” Janus asked, throwing a hand up to his forehead as if this was some huge betrayal.

“Don’t you have to be 18 to be able to buy a hotel room anyway?” Virgil pointed out, crossing his arms and smirking.

“Hmm.  Fair enough.  I know a motel a couple miles away, we could try that.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the same deal.”

“I have a fake ID in the glove box.”

“You what?” Virgil laughed, pulling open the glove box to see that Janus was right.  “Why are we going to a motel and not a hotel if you have a fake ID?”

“So what I’m hearing is we can go to a hotel!”

“Janus!” Virgil groaned, trying to stop smiling.

“What, it’s not like we have school again tomorrow.  We’re not needed anywhere.”

“Yes, well as technically true as that is, tomorrow is still the day we all meet up at Roman’s house to set up the pool and swim.”

All of the mirth faded instantly from Janus’ face.  “Oh.”

“Hey, what?” Virgil asked, furrowing his eyebrows in concern.

“Nothing.  You’re allowed to have other friends,” Janus said, sounding sincere in that.

Virgil sighed.  “Except I never get to see you as is,” he muttered.  “Right?”

“Well… yes,” Janus admitted.

Virgil reached over and grabbed Janus’ hand on top of the steering wheel.  “Come with me, then.  I’ll ask them if you can come.  I’m sure they’ll say yes.”

“Oh?  And what will you say?  ‘Hey, are you three with your perfect fairy tale story ending cool with me bringing my boyfriend that isn’t my soulmate over to your house?”

“Well of course I wouldn’t say that,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes.  “I’ll probably say you’re a friend I’ve met.”

Janus sighed and shook his head.

“Janus,” Virgil said, checking to make sure no other cars were around before pulling his hand onto the middle console.  “Come with me.  You can wear a swimsuit and look hot and make me wish I could come over and kiss your face off.”

Janus gave him a look, and Virgil could see his answer before he said it.

“Maybe another time, Virgil,” he said, pulling his hand away and putting it back on the wheel.

They made the rest of the trip home in silence, and after a while Virgil leaned on the window and fell asleep.

…

“LOGAN, LOOK OUT!” was all the warning that Logan got before Roman landed right on top of him and sent them both underwater.  Virgil started swimming over to them instantly, but both heads popped out of the water before he got there, though Logan was rubbing his and looked in pain.

“Do you never look before you leap into pools?” Logan asked, glaring at Roman.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Roman said, grabbing Logan’s head and starting to look it over.  “Here, I can kiss it better.”

“That is not how medical care works,” Logan said, as Roman kissed the area of his head he’d landed on.

“Oh for goodness sake, specs, I’m being sweet.” Roman said, continuing to look his head over.  “You look okay.  You want to get out for a minute?”

“I am alright.  I think a headache is forming after that, but I don’t feel I need medical attention.”

“Medical attention?  What happened?” Patton called, emerging from the house with a platter of various snacks.

“Roman was being the idiot he usually is and leapt right on top of Logan instead of just into the water,” Virgil said, swimming back over to lean against the side of the pool.

“Oh my goodness, are you two okay?” Patton said, setting the platter down and rushing over to the side of the pool.

“We’re alright, Patton,” Logan reassured, catching Patton’s hands before they could start fluttering over him in worry.  “Neither of us are seriously injured.”

“Good,” Patton muttered, kissing Logan quickly, and then moving on to do the same for Roman.  Virgil looked away, trying not to feel bitter.  He looked over at his phone, sitting over by his clothes, and debated going over to call Janus and make him get his ass over here.

He missed his boyfriend.  How had he gotten so used to seeing him every day so quickly?

The sound of people climbing out of the pool roused his attention, and Virgil saw Patton waving him over for the snacks he’d brought.  He pushed himself out of the pool and headed over to eat them, trying to push Janus out of his mind.

“You know, I heard there was going to be a new student coming to school after break is over,” Logan said.

“Ugh, of course you care about stuff like that,” Roman said, rolling his eyes and giving Logan an endeared smile.

“No, there was something about him.  His name sounded familiar, but I’m not sure why.”

“What’s his name?” Patton asked, popping a grape in his mouth.

“Um… Ethan, I think.  Ethan Baker.”

Virgil’s blood ran cold.  “What?”

Logan glanced over at him.  “What?”

“Oh my gosh, Logan!” Roman exclaimed.  “Why didn’t you say anything?  That’s Virgil’s soulmate, you dummy!”

Logan’s confused look cleared.  “Oh, that’s why it sounded familiar,” he said.  “Well, congratulations, Virgil.  Unless it’s a different Ethan Baker, it sounds like you might get to meet your soulmate soon.”

Virgil stood up suddenly and stumbled a few steps back.

“Virgil?” Patton asked, standing up and looking concerned again.  “Are you alright?”

“Um,” Virgil said, still moving backwards.  “I—”

Roman jumped up.  “Virgil, stop, you’re going to—”

The ground disappeared from under Virgil’s feet and his heart leapt into his throat a second before he hit the water, thankfully in a deep enough part of the pool that he didn’t hit his head on anything.

Maybe he could just stay down here and never have to face the reality that Logan just presented him with.

Unfortunately, a hand reached down into the water and pulled him upwards until he was above the surface and looking at Roman’s concerned face.

“Are you alright?” Roman asked, helping him out of the pool and sitting down next to him.

Virgil yanked his hand away and wrapped his arms around himself.  “Fine,” he muttered.  “I’m fine.  Everything’s fine.”

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton said, sitting on his other side.  “I get it.”

Virgil looked over at him.

“It’s okay,” Patton said, smiling.  “Of course meeting your soulmate is scary.  I was scared when I met Roman and Logan.”

“You were a kid,” Virgil pointed out.

“And?  You’re not allowed to be scared because you’re a little older than I was?  Virgil, it’s alright.  No one is going to blame you for being scared.  You don’t even have to meet him right away if you don’t want to.”

Something in Virgil’s chest lightened at the thought.  “I don’t?”

“Well, I wouldn’t conceal it from him,” Logan said, sitting down on the other side of Patton.  “You should tell him who you are.  But if you’re not ready for a relationship or even a friendship you can tell him that.”

“I can?” Virgil asked, as his heartbeat continued to slow.

“Oh, kiddo, of course,” Patton said, grabbing Virgil’s hand and squeezing it.

“This is your soulmate, Virge,” Roman said, and Virgil glanced over at him.  “You’re matched up for a reason.  He��s going to understand if you’re not ready.  And even if things are bumpy, it’ll be alright eventually.  I mean just look at my parents.”

Virgil wasn’t sure what Roman’s parents had to do with anything.  Roman had two dads who seemed as in love as any other soulmates Virgil had ever seen.

“Just relax, Virgil,” Roman said with a smile, cutting off his thoughts.  “There’s no reason to freak out before you even meet the guy.  You don’t know what he’ll be like.  Just keep that in mind.”

Virgil leaned forward and rested his head on his knees.  “Okay,” he murmured.  “I’ll do that.”

“These things tend to work themselves out, kiddo,” Patton said.  “That’s what soulmates are all about.”

Virgil’s test tightened again.  That’s kind of what I’m afraid of.

…

“Okay, I got your frantic text,” Janus said, pulling himself up into the treehouse.  “What’s going on?  Why are we meeting tonight when school starts again tomorrow?”

Virgil was grateful in the moment that he must have looked outwardly anxious in his position of being tucked against the back wall with his arms around his knees, because otherwise Janus definitely would have made some kind of joke about him being just that irresistible.

“There’s a new student coming to school after the break,” Virgil said.  “Named Ethan Baker.”

Janus shut his eyes and let out a long, slow breath.  He clearly knew what that meant.  He moved across the treehouse and sat in front of Virgil.  “Okay.  What do you want to do then?”

“What do you mean what do I want to do?” Virgil asked, staring at him.  “Janus, I want him not to come.”

“Yeah.  I figured.  But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s coming.  So what do you want to do?”

Virgil didn’t have an answer.  He didn’t want to think about it, or have to make this decision.  He didn’t want his parents to reject him.  He didn’t want Patton and Logan and Roman to hate him.  He didn’t want to go back to being alone and friendless, and especially not while dating someone who wasn’t his soulmate.  He’d be ostracized, and even when he was lonely, he hadn’t dealt with any level of vitriol.  But the issue was that, at the same time…

He wanted Janus.  He wanted this, stolen nights in a broken down treehouse and day trips over spring break and Janus’ wit and sarcasm and hatred for all things soulmates.  He just didn’t know if that want was strong enough to override all of the things that he didn’t want.

“I want…” he said after a moment.  “I want to meet him.  Who knows, maybe he’s an asshole who can fuck right off.”

“Maybe,” Janus said, in a tone that said ‘hopefully,’ but also in a way that meant he didn’t really believe that.

“Look,” Virgil said.  “What I want is to not decide anything before I meet him.  Let’s just do things like normal.  I’ll see you here on Friday.”

Janus looked at him for a moment, and nodded.  He turned as if about to leave, and suddenly Virgil wanted to scream at him to stop.  That would have been incredibly stupid, though, so instead he reached out and grabbed Janus’ arm.

Janus turned back to face him.

“What was that you said about wanting to spend a night with me?” Virgil asked, trying on a wobbly smile.

“I meant under different circumstances,” Janus said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yes, but…” Virgil tried to figure out a way to say Don’t leave me like this without using those exact words.

Janus seemed to read it in his face.  “Okay,” he said, and he turned back around, thank god.  “But I’m not sleeping in a treehouse.”

Virgil nodded.  “Follow me,” he said, and climbed back across the branch into his bedroom, showing Janus where to put his hands and feet.

Janus dropped quietly down into the bedroom after him, and suddenly soulmates were gone from his mind, and the only thing Virgil could think about was that Janus was in his room.

When was the last time he’d cleaned up again?

Janus was smiling as he looked around.  “Wow, Virgil, you’re a regular neat freak, aren’t you?”

“Shut uuuup,” Virgil groaned, shoving his shoulder and stepping over various items as he started towards his bed.  Janus followed, and toed off his shoes at the edge.

“Here,” Virgil said, taking a short detour to his dresser and handing Janus one of his hoodies and a pair of sweatpants to sleep in.  He crawled into bed as Janus changed, and then joined him a minute later, wrapping his arms around his waist.  Virgil leaned back against him.

“I set an alarm so I’ll get up and leave,” Janus said.

“Okay,” Virgil murmured.  He was quiet for a minute.  “Hey Janus?”

“Hmm?”

“I still love you.”

“I love you too,” Janus whispered, kissing the top of Virgil’s head, which made Virgil feel warm in an entirely different way from how he felt after a makeout session.  He fell asleep still warm all over.

…

Virgil recognized Ethan by finding his name on his wrist, which really just felt like one more way for the universe to laugh at him.  But Logan was right.  He couldn’t just hide from Ethan the fact that he was his soulmate.  So instead, he walked up and tapped him on the shoulder, feeling like he was sealing his fate.

Which he supposed, in a way, he was.

Ethan turned with a slightly curious smile.  “Hello,” he said.

“Ethan Baker?”

Ethan nodded, looking more curious.

“Uh,” Virgil waved his wrist.  “I’m Virgil Storm.”

Ethan’s eyes widened.  “Oh.  Oh, my goodness!”

“Yeah,” Virgil muttered, trying to make his smile look happier than he felt.

“Well, hi!” Ethan said, starting to smile much wider.  “It’s so lovely to meet you, Virgil!  I never would have thought—”  The warning bell rang overhead.

“Oh, damn that thing,” Ethan muttered, looking up at it.  “I wish we had more time to talk.”

“What class do you have?” Virgil asked.

“Uh… Holden.  English.”

Virgil tried to smile wider.  “Well, I’ve got good news then.  That’s my class too.  Want to walk with me?”

“Oh, awesome!” Ethan said.  “Yes, please!  It’s so good to meet you!”

“You too,” Virgil said, falling into step beside Ethan as they started down the hallway.

Come on, Virgil.  Give the guy a chance.  Maybe this will all work out fine and he is an asshole.  Maybe he’s about to say something super dick-ish right now.  Here it comes.

Ethan beamed over at him.  “I should have known you’d be even more gorgeous than I pictured,” he said.

Goddammit.

…

Ethan wasn’t an asshole, by any stretch of the imagination.  Virgil really tried, he tried so hard to hate him.  It should be easy, he was an expert at hating people for no reason!  He tried twisting all of Ethan’s words and actions into the most despicable light he could manage.  But Ethan was just too damn sweet.

He was gentle and caring.  His smile could light up a room.  He got along perfectly with all of Virgil’s friends.  Virgil was pretty sure he tried harder than anything else he’d ever done in his life, but he just couldn’t hate him.  Why couldn’t he hate him?  Was this the universe fucking with him?  Was there some kind of genetic thing that kicked in that made people incapable of hating their soulmates?

Or was Ethan just that fucking nice?

Either way, Virgil couldn’t hate the guy.  He wanted to, but he couldn’t.  Maybe that was why he was hiding here.  Virgil looked up from the stage, glad at least that the auditorium was big as well as empty.

He just couldn’t go back to class, where everyone would be staring at him and Ethan like all of their future problems were solved now.  He buried his head in his knees.  He wanted to get out of here.

He didn’t register any kind of bell ringing, but one must have, because doors opened and people started coming in, and Virgil remembered that there were drama classes in the auditorium.  He jumped up and headed backstage, trying to control his now much worse breathing.  He’d be fine, he just had to last until everyone starting doing things and then he could—

“Virgil?”

Of course.  Of course he would be here.

“Hey,” Ethan said, coming backstage.  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Virgil shook his head.  “No,” he choked out.  “No, I don’t want—”  He yanked his hood over his head and pulled hard on the strings until his face was obscured.

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to tell me.  Just come here, alright?  People are going to be coming back here soon.”

Virgil grabbed onto his hand when it was offered because he didn’t know what else to do, and they ended up in what looked like a prop area underneath the stage.

“Hey, breathe with me, okay?  I’m gonna count to four, try and breathe in.  It’s okay if you can’t make it all the way there.”

He started doing that, and waited so damn patiently until Virgil finally managed to calm down, and the whole time he didn’t make a single sudden move, and Virgil wished that he wanted him to leave.

When Virgil was breathing normally again, Ethan just smiled gently and leaned back.  He didn’t ask a damn thing about what happened.  He just said “You okay?” in a way that meant it would be totally fine if the answer was no.

Virgil took a shaky breath and nodded.  “Thank you,” he whispered, because Ethan was good at that, and he hadn’t met another person who knew how to do anything like this before he told them.

“Of course,” Ethan said with a nod.

“How did you know what to do?” Virgil asked.

“My little sister gets panic attacks sometimes.  I wanted to learn how to help her, so I did some research.”

Virgil nodded.  “Guess that’s lucky,” he muttered.  He looked up at Ethan.  “Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you want from this?”

Ethan looked confused.  “From what?”

“Me.  What are you looking for?”

“Well, a soulmate,” Ethan said, like that should be obvious.  “I don’t want to start dating you if you’re not ready, of course, but eventually.  I— I like you, Virgil,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he started to blush.  “I’d love a relationship with you once you’re ready.”

What if I’m never ready, Virgil didn’t say.  He shut his eyes and leaned back against the wall behind him.

“Virgil,” Ethan said, and Virgil opened his eyes again.  “If you are not ready to date me, we don’t have to date yet.  Is that what you’re panicking about?”

“I… don’t know,” Virgil lied.

“I’m not going to rush you,” Ethan said, taking a small step forward.  “Or push you.  I want to move at a pace we’re both comfortable with, and if that means I have to wait, I’m okay with that.  For now, I would be more than happy to be your friend, Virgil Storm.”

Virgil looked back at his soulmate, with the universe stamp of approval.  It was the ‘for now’ part of that statement he was going to have issues with.  But then again, maybe for now… that would be fine.

…

Virgil’s entire body melted with relief when Janus appeared in the doorway of the treehouse.

“Janus,” he said, climbing up and moving across to meet him.  He started to pull Janus down into a kiss, only to be stopped by Janus pushing back a second later.

“Janus?”  He stopped moving when he noticed the look on Janus’ face.  “Janus, what’s wrong?”

“Virgil, we need to talk,” Janus said.

“Oh, hardly,” Virgil said, starting to smile.  “I have good news.  Ethan says we don’t have to date if I’m not ready.  And I’m not.  So…”  He leaned up to pull Janus down to him again.

Janus sighed and pushed him back.  “Virgil.”

Virgil stopped smiling.  “What?”

“Did you miss the not ready part of that sentence?” Janus said, sitting down across from him.  “He definitely wouldn’t be comfortable with you dating other people in the meantime.”

Virgil scowled.  “I don’t owe him anything.”

“Yes, you do.  He’s your soulmate.”

“And since when does that kind of thing matter to you?  Part of the whole damn reason you fell for me is because I’m not your soulmate.  You hate soulmates.”

“But you don’t,” Janus said, looking firmly at him.  “Virgil, I saw you with him.  You don’t hate him.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m in love with him!  I love you.”

Janus sighed.  “Virgil.”

“What?”

“You can’t possibly see yourself falling for him?  There’s no chance you could end up in love with him even more than you are with me?”

Virgil leaned back.  “What— Janus.  It’s not about that.”

“What’s it about then, Virgil?  Come on, he seems made for you.  That’s what they say soulmates are supposed to be, don’t they?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes.  “I don’t care.”

“Oh, so you don’t care about whether or not your family wants you to be with him?�� Or your friends?  Or everyone else?”

Virgil winced.  “That’s different.”

“I’m not going to push you into the limelight like that, Virgil.  You seem uncomfortable now, when you’re doing what everyone expects of you.  If someone found out you were dating me, I…” Janus shook his head, looked more helpless than Virgil had ever seen him before.  “I can’t do that to you,” he finished, shifting backwards slightly.

“Don’t you think that should be my decision?” Virgil said, crossing his arms.

“Well, I’m making it.  I’m sorry.”  Janus stood up and started for the ladder.

“Wh- wait, Janus!” Virgil moved and started climbing down after him, catching his arm before he could run from the backyard.

Janus sighed, then turned and faced him.  “It’s okay,” he said.  “We’ll be okay.  Don’t try and stop yourself from falling for him, Virgil.  I won’t even be a little mad, I promise.”

“Janus, please.”  Virgil tried to pull him back, but Janus wouldn’t budge.  “What— what if I don’t see you again?”

Janus smiled sadly.  “How ever will I last,” he whispered, leaning in one last time and kissing Virgil gently.

The way he did goodbyes.

He pulled his hand out of Virgil’s and ran for the back gate, slipping through it and into the night.

…

When Virgil had no reason to try and dislike Ethan, liking him was much easier.  He was sweet, and very cute when he was excited, which tended to happen whenever he talked about theatre, which was his favorite part of school (he got along well with Roman).  He knew how to help Virgil if he was panicking, and he took an interest in the kinds of things Virgil liked.  Virgil tried so hard to return the favor, but he couldn’t make himself interested for very long.  That… that was okay.  That would change with time.

For all of Virgil’s fears about what having a soulmate would do to his relationship with Janus, now that the worst had happened, having one actually having one wasn’t so bad.  Ethan was easy to care about, and easy to spend time with, even if their interests didn’t always line up.  Virgil would fall in love with him.  He just needed a little more time.

These things worked themselves out, Patton said.  That had to be true.

Virgil’s parents were thrilled to meet Ethan.  His mom got along with him really well, and his dad seemed approving, if his smiles and nods to Virgil were anything to go by.  His mom was astounded when Ethan mentioned they weren’t dating yet.

“Why in the world not?” she asked, looking over at Virgil across the dinner table.

“It’s just… a big step,” Virgil muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” his mom said, in the way she did when she thought Virgil was being too anxious about something.  “I suppose that’s fair.  Take your time, of course.”

“It’s not just him,” Ethan said suddenly.  “I don’t want to rush things either.  We both decided to just take it slow.”

Virgil smiled gratefully at him, glad for the save. Ethan gave his hand a quick reassuring squeeze under the table.

They went up to Virgil’s room after dinner, and Ethan seemed concerned.  “Is your mom always that pushy?” he asked, as Virgil shut the door.

“She just… wants me to push myself,” he said.  “She thinks I would be more satisfied if I took more risks, went after what I want.”

“What if you don’t know what you want?” Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“And therein lies the main problem in my relationship with my mother,” Virgil sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

Ethan chuckled a little, moving to lean against the wall next to the door.

Virgil worried his lip between his teeth, and looked back at Ethan.  “You’re really okay with moving slowly?”

“Virgil, I told you,” Ethan said, smiling genuinely at him.  “I want you to be comfortable.”

“You want to be with me though,” Virgil said.

“I… do,” Ethan admitted.  “But if you’re not ready for that, I don’t want to rush you.”

Virgil looked at him a moment longer.  Ethan wasn’t bad looking.  Virgil liked him as a person.  Maybe in order to make the switch into liking him romantically, he just had to force it a little.

He took three steps across the room and kissed Ethan square on the mouth.  Ethan made a muffled noise of surprise, and Virgil pulled back instantly.  Idiot, you need to ask before doing something like that, you moron.

“I’m sorry!” Virgil said, stepping back.  “I’m sorry, I just— I—”

Ethan cut him off by reaching up and pulling him back in to kiss him again, and in the moment, all Virgil felt was relief that he hadn’t freaked him out or pissed him off.

He could do this.  He’d done this a hundred times with Janus, he just had to… go through the motions.  Come on, Virgil.  You know what you’re doing.

He pulled Ethan with him as he stumbled back across the room and pulled them both onto his bed, wrapping his arms around his back and trying to push himself a little farther.  He’d start feeling something any second now, he just needed to—

“Okay, okay, woah,” Ethan pushed him back, panting.  “I need to breathe.”

Virgil leaned back.  “Sorry.”

“Hey, no apologies necessary,” Ethan said, grinning at him.  “You… you’re very good at this.”

Virgil felt his cheeks grow warm.  “You wouldn’t guess, huh,” he muttered.

“Absolutely not a bad surprise,” Ethan said.  “It just might be my turn to ask you to slow down a tad.”

Virgil nodded.  “Okay.  You’ve got it.”  He looked down and fidgeted with his fingers.  “Want to watch a movie?”

“That sounds nice,” Ethan said, still looking very happy with the situation.  Virgil leaned over the side of his bed and grabbed his laptop as Ethan sat up.

It’s okay.  It’s okay.  You’ll fall for him.  You just need a little more time.

…

Time passed, and Virgil didn’t fall for him.  He didn’t know what else to do.  He tried to come up with something to make it better, some kind of “at least” to work off of.  At least Ethan was nice.  At least he was pretty.  At least everyone else was happy for him.  At least Janus didn’t hate him.  None of them seemed to work.

Virgil was quickly becoming the soulmate envy of all just like Patton, Roman, and Logan, and feeling absolutely miserable because of it.  He hadn’t shown it, of course.  He’d beamed at Ethan and kissed his cheek before classes and smiled and rolled his eyes in endearment whenever someone asked him how knowing his soulmate felt.

He couldn’t stand it.  He was pretty sure he’d never felt less like himself.  But Patton and Logan and Roman all smiled at him like they thought he was happy, and so did his parents, and so did Ethan, so Virgil tried to brush aside the miserable feeling in his chest and fool himself like he’d fooled everyone else.

He hadn’t expected a change to come from Roman.  With his general romanticism and his perfect soulmate story, he’d expected Roman to be the last person to be able to tell when someone wasn’t happy with theirs.  He’d noticed the occasional suspicious look sent his way by him, but he’d managed to brush it off.  He certainly hadn’t expected Roman to say anything.

On the day he did, Virgil had already been feeling pretty shitty.  It was around lunchtime, Ethan was sitting next to Virgil and smiling at him as they both ate, riveting them all with a story about what had happened during drama class.  Virgil had mastered the art of smiling and nodding along, and that’s what he was doing when he turned at just the wrong time and met eyes with Janus, who looked as miserable as Virgil felt.

His eyes widened when their gazes met, and Virgil tried to think of the last time he’d seen Janus in any way.  Janus was very good at disappearing.

As if proving his point, Janus looked away and disappeared into the crowded room like a ghost.

Virgil stood up and pushed his chair back, saying something about going to the bathroom before all but sprinting from the lunchroom.

About halfway to the bathroom he realized that was a mistake, because it was just going to make Ethan come looking for him, so he veered right to head out to the football field.  He sat on the bleachers and buried his head in his knees, trying to quiet any of his rushing thoughts.

“You are going to seriously hurt someone.”

Virgil jerked upwards and saw Roman walking up the side of the bleachers towards him, arms crossed and looking firm.

Virgil swallowed, recovering his bearings as Roman stopped in front of him.  “What?” he asked.

“Virgil, if you don’t love Ethan you need to tell him that.”

Virgil’s mouth went dry.  “What are you talking about, I do—”

“No.  You don’t.”

Virgil looked away.  “But I have to.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Virgil.  You clearly don’t.”

“But he’s my soulmate.  What… what else is there?” Virgil asked, like he didn’t know the answer to that question by heart.

Roman didn’t reply right away.

Then suddenly, Virgil was pulled up off the bleachers and into a hug.

“Oh, Virgil,” Roman whispered.  “Virgil.  There is so much more if you want it.”

Virgil blinked quickly, trying to hold back the tears welling in his eyes.  “What?”

Roman leaned back.  “Virgil, what on earth made you think that all soulmate bonds have to be romantic?”

“What— but you— but they are,” Virgil insisted.  “That’s just how soulmates work.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem very fair,” Roman said, smiling gently.  “First of all, aromantic people would be shit out of luck if all soulmate bonds had to be romantic.” Roman’s look turned curious.  “I have told you about my mother before, right?”

“Your mother, what— don’t you have two dads?”

“Not always.  My mother married my father before she realized she didn’t experience romantic attraction.  She ended up divorcing dad, but they’re still close friends.  That’s how their soulmate bond works, but my dads aren’t soulmates.  And mom lives with Remus.  He and I are soulmates, but that’s definitely not romantic.”

“Who’s Remus?” Virgil asked.

“My brother,” Roman said, waving his hand dismissively.  “He and mom live a couple districts over.  He’ll come over here more often on summer vacation and you can meet him.  Point is, soulmate bonds aren’t inherently romantic, nor should they be, in my opinion.”

“But… but you’re in love with Patton and Logan,” Virgil said weakly.

“Because I choose to be, Virgil.  The three of us don’t have to be dating.  I know that’s what most people tend to do, but it’s not fair to expect that of everyone.  What if you don’t want a partner right then?  Or ever?  What if you fall in love with someone who isn’t your soulmate?”

Virgil’s blood ran cold, and he took a step back, almost stumbling into the bleachers.  “Who told you?” he whispered.

Roman’s face fell.  “Oh, Virgil,” he said.  He moved forward and pulled Virgil into a hug again.  “No one told me, Virge.  I’m so sorry.”

Virgil’s breathing started to shake, and he pushed himself back from Roman.  “I thought— I thought you wouldn’t understand,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around himself.  “Because your soulmate story is so perfect.  I thought you wouldn’t—”

“A lot of people don’t,” Roman said quietly.  “I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong for being afraid.  But right now all you’re doing is hurting Ethan, and yourself, and the other person you love.”

Virgil sat down on the bleachers and buried his head in his hands.  Roman, after a moment, sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

“I have to break up with him, don’t I,” Virgil muttered.

“I’m not going to tell you what you should do in that regard,” Roman said.  “But I think you should strongly consider telling him what’s going on.”

Virgil nodded.  “I thought I could make myself love him,” he whispered.

“Love doesn’t work like that, Virgil,” Roman whispered.

“It would be easier if it did,” Virgil muttered.

“Yes,” Roman agreed.  “But then you wouldn’t get to have the person you love now.  Is that what you want instead?”

Virgil shook his head instantly.  He hadn’t wanted to lose Janus in the first place.  He didn’t want to trade him for anything.

“Do you want to stay out here for a while?” Roman asked.

“I want you to go get Ethan,” Virgil said firmly.

Roman blinked, seeming surprised.  “Right now?”

Virgil nodded.  “Yes.”

Roman still looked hesitant.  “Are you—”

“I’m sure.”

Roman must have seen he meant it, because a second later he nodded.  “Alright.  I’ll be back.  Um, advice, don’t dance around the subject.  Be straightforward and genuine, but also gentle if you can.”

Virgil nodded.  “Okay,” he said, and Roman left.  Virgil leaned back against the bleachers and took a deep breath.  This wasn’t going to be fun.  It may not be romantic in nature, but he did love Ethan, and he didn’t want to hurt him.  He leaned forward and buried his head in his hands again.  Why had he thought this would last?

“Virgil?”

Virgil jerked upright and spun around, because that wasn’t Ethan’s voice.

Sure enough, there was Janus, standing just at the edge of the bleachers and looking concerned.

Virgil leapt to his feet.  “Where the hell have you been?” he snapped.

“I saw you run off, I wanted to make sure you’re okay—”

“Not what I meant.  You completely ignore my texts and then you avoid me at school?  You asshole.”

Janus turned his hands upwards, looking a little offended.  “What, did you want me to hang around all the time?”

“I didn’t want you to leave in the first place you idiot,” Virgil snapped, jumping down from the bleachers and storming over to stand in front of Janus.  “You were clearly miserable on your own.”

“And you were fine,” Janus said, stepping towards him.  “I was trying not to be selfish for once.”

“Oh, I was fine?” Virgil said, throwing his hands to the sky.  “Janus who’s spent most of these past months avoiding me thinks I was fine.  Never mind then.”

“I thought you wanted to do what everyone expected of you,” Janus snapped.  “It’s not like you ever wanted to fight for me.”

“Oh, fuck you, Janus!  I wanted what everyone expected of me because that made me feel safe.”

“And you don’t want that?”

“No, right now I just want to feel alive again,” Virgil said, moving forward until he was nose-to-nose with Janus.  “Which is kind of hard to do considering I’m starting to spend my whole life going through the motions.”

“Why would you need me to change that?”

“Moron,” Virgil said, and pulled Janus into a kiss, desperate and passionate and making up for all of the months he’d been gone.

They both pulled apart when a gasp came from nearby.

Virgil spun around to see Ethan standing at the edge of the walkway leading up to the field.

“Wait,” Virgil said, stepping towards him.  “Wait, that’s not how this was supposed to happen.  Ethan—”

Ethan spun around but didn’t leave, and Virgil moved across the field until he was right behind him.

“You’re never like that with me,” Ethan murmured.

“I’m sorry, this wasn’t supposed to be how I did this—”

“But you were going to do this.  You were going to leave me for him.  He’s not even your soulmate.”

“I know.  I… I’m sorry.  I do love you, Ethan.  Just not…”

“Not like I love you,” Ethan said, looking over his shoulder at Virgil.

Virgil winced.  “I’m sorry.”

Ethan laughed a little and looked down.  “I think I kinda knew it, you know?  I just wanted… I wanted to be enough for you.  But I was never going to be, was I?”

Virgil started to reach for him, but stopped and dropped his hand.  “I’m sorry,” he said again.  “You can… you can hate me if you want.”

Ethan looked up at him again.  “But you don’t want that.”

“Not everything has to be about what I want,” Virgil said quietly.

Ethan turned to face the school.  “I… I’m going now, Virgil,” he said.  “I’ll call you if I’m ever ready to talk again.”

“Okay,” Virgil whispered.  “Take care, Ethan.”

“You… you too,” Ethan said, and then he walked away.

Virgil watched him until he was gone, and then turned around to face Janus, who was casually looking around back in the middle of the field.  He looked back at Virgil when he started walking across to meet him.

“All good?” Janus asked, like he already knew the answer.

Virgil shook his head.  “No.”

Janus nodded.  “Yeah,” he muttered.

They both looked at each other for a moment.

“Janus?”

“Virgil?”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Janus started grinning, and held out his hand.  Virgil grabbed it, and they both started running.  They made it to Janus’ car, and both got in, and drove.  And drove, and planned to drive some more.

Nothing was fixed.  They’d have to come back and face the music eventually.  Virgil had to tell Patton and Logan what happened.  He’d need to tell Janus about Roman’s parents.  They’d have to figure out a way to make this work, actually work, work in the way they both wanted.

But for now, they rolled down the windows, and drove out of the suburbs and out under the open sky.  Virgil screamed My Chemical Romance lyrics at the top of his lungs.  More than once throughout the drive he checked to make sure no other cars were around and leaned in to kiss Janus’ face off.  He had a lot of lost time to make up for, after all.

And now, hopefully, a lot of time to do it.

Part 2

[ghostietea]

On Tohru and Akito: a long overdue analysis

As some may know, Tohru Honda and Akito Sohma from the manga Fruits Basket are pretty much my all time favorite protagonist/antagonist pair. They just work incredibly well as thematic pieces and driving forces of the story in relation to eachother. And beyond even the surface level they have a rich and layered goldmine of parallels that make them fascinating to think about. While it may make many a newbie raise an eyebrow, I think this is a fact that is to some level pretty widely acknowledged in the fandom proper. However, there is another level of their relationship that is often mostly left out of analytical conversations about them and their parallels: their eventual friendship. Something which, partly due to screentime, is often somewhat simplified down and misinterpreted. Which I think is a shame because, when you look at it, their eleventh hour friendship is deeply interwoven with their parallels and the very thematics and ending of the story. So then, what’s really going on with the girls that stand as part of the thematic core of Furuba? Beyond (most of, true analytical objectivity is impossible in interpretation) my personal sentimental feelings, let’s talk Akito and Tohru: their parallels, relationship, and role in the story overal. Read more present, this is going to be a long one but I hope you stick around 😊

One facet of Akito and Tohru’s role in relationship to eachother that I think is both interesting and imperative to understanding their purpose is their nature as eachother’s foils, especially their parallels. See, the two girls are both opposite and the same. Takaya sets them up as foils before we even properly meet Akito, as you can see in these panels: 

However, their foil relationship becomes a lot more intriguing once their similarities become more apparent later in the story. Just think about it: two girls with boy’s names whose fathers died when they were young, leaving them alone with their mothers, who both developed behavior that, according to the environment that they grew up in, would keep them from being abandoned. Akito, coming from the cultish Sohma clan where she was treated as a God to the point that she thinks she can do no wrong and has tied all of her self worth to the role, plays the part of a male ruler who must uphold tradition and keep the zodiac with her by any means. Akito is terrified of being abandoned, especially since she has no idea how to have relationships outside of the context of the bond, only exacerbated by the fact that Ren, one of the only people that openly questions her role, has constantly told her that she’s useless and will be abandoned. This is something that informs all of her (many, terrible) decisions and leads her to try desperately to keep the curse together, something which puts her in direct conflict with Tohru, who actually wants the curse broken in part so that she won’t be abandoned. Tohru may not be as obvious with her abandonment issues as miss screeches-at-people-not-to-leave-her, but they still inform a good deal of her character. Like Akito, she develops behavior around the time of her father’s passing to try to keep herself from being abandoned, mirroring her father’s proper speech because she was worried that she was losing Kyoko.  But, as she grew older in her much warmer environment, Tohru turned to kindness instead of fear to capture others, maintaining a facade of extreme positivity, politeness, and determination so as to not bother anyone. And, while she hides it, Tohru just gets worse after losing her mother. She becomes dedicated to preserving her feelings about her mother as is, refusing to move on much as Akito also refuses to move on from the curse and what her father wanted. Then comes the beach house reveal, where Tohru learns that Akito plans to take away her new family, even locking up the one most precious to her. Tohru tells herself that she’s going to break the curse for the freedom of the zodiac and cat, but she is also, in a way, doing it to keep herself from being abandoned. Later this feeling changes to become more focused on preventing the loss of Kyo himself, something which Tohru doesn’t want to admit. Tohru is a truly good and kind person and does want to help, yes, but also some part of her is doing this to keep the ones she loves by her side, understandably as she is a teen that recently lost the person she revolved her whole life around. But it comes to a point that you have to realize: Akito and Tohru are both motivated by the same thing, they just present it in wildly different ways. I don’t think that I have to explain how exactly their behavior foils eachother, the more worldly and modern Tohru acting on radical kindness and acceptance and thinking she deserves nothing while the sheltered, traditional Akito uses manipulation and fear to get what she thinks she is entitled to. It’s very apparent, but just gets even spicier in the context of how similar they are. Another parallel is in Tohru’s mom picture vs Akito’s father box, both relics of their dead and favorite parent that they are extremely protective of and treat almost like it is their deceased parent. Early in the series Tohru is seen carrying around a photo of her mom which she talks to, something which seems pretty harmless, until we consider how terrified she is every time she thinks she’s lost it, even going as far as to refer to it as if it were her mother.  Notably, it barely shows up in the second half of the series, as she reluctantly drifts away from her mom and towards Kyo. In this later part of the series, we are introduced to Akito’s box, which she (semi, it’s complicated) thinks contains her father’s soul. Akito’s box is shown in a much darker light, from how the reveal of what it us to her is framed to how cruelly she reacts when it’s being stolen. Akito’s box is to Tohru’s photo what their owners narratively are to eachother: a dark mirror.

Ok, and now for the reason that I think it was important to bring all these parallels up first: because as you cannot understand Tohru and Akito as enemies without understanding their differences, you cannot understand them as friends without knowing their similarities. While it is easy to write off Tohru reaching out to Akito as just another case of Tohru being Tohru, that does a disservice to the full picture. I’ve seen around in the fandom that a good deal of people seem to think Tohru trying to befriend her is just Tohru being overly kind and forgiving, and this is something I think ties back a bit to some early fandom misconceptions about Tohru. Bear with me for a second, this is going to be a bit of a tangent but it ties back. It’s died down some now, but in the early Furuba fandom it was very common to just think of Tohru as a pretty flat nice girl doormat character, which besides misogyny is probably partially the fault of the 01 anime, which cuts off before we get to see more of Tohru’s insecurities and tones down what we do see (also, in the case of the relationship I’m talking about, 01 ads in that God awful end confrontation that I despise for being everything that I’m about to argue the ACTUAL confrontation that I like is not). Manga Tohru is a very subtle character, she hides a lot of her feelings behind a perpetually happy front which doesn’t start to let slip until later. And, since it’s later on in the manga which went unadapted for years and is mixed in with a bunch of crazy stuff, I think Tohru’s quiet development is often somewhat overlooked. For example, early series Tohru is very well known for the speeches she gives to the zodiac when she first meets them, speeches that, importantly, always tie back to things that her mom said. Tohru’s worldview back then revolved completely around Kyoko, so it’s probably a bit of a thing that in the later story, when Tohru draws ever nearer to the realization that she must move on, she does not give her mom speeches anymore? As opposed to the early story, when it was pretty much back to back character intros, in the late story Tohru notably only gets to befriend two new Sohmas: Isuzu and Akito. Notably, she doesn’t quote her mom either time, these are both people that she can relate to on some of her more hidden issues, and she shows a more personal side of her emotions in her turning point confrontations with them than she did earlier. It is especially important to realize that, in her confrontation on the cliff, Tohru is deciding that she is willing to go against her mom. Early series Tohru was a front anyways, and is a different Tohru from the one that finally gets through to Akito. I was using it as an example, but the evolution of Tohru’s befriending confrontations will be important later. Furthermore, there is the perception of Tohru as a doormat. Listen, Tohru may be very kind and polite, but one of her defining characteristics is being very determined and strong willed when need be. This is something that is especially relevant to her interactions with Akito. From the first meeting outside the school, Tohru knows to be wary of Akito and even breaks politeness and shoves her when she senses that Akito is making Yuki uncomfortable. This sets up immediately that Tohru can and will stand up to Akito. This is driven in even farther at the beach house, when Tohru, after again physically getting between Akito and a zodiac, decides that she will directly go against all of the Sohma family’s centuries of tradition and Akito herself to break the curse.  There’s even a cute moment when, upon remembering Akito telling her not to, Tohru just decides to meddle even harder. Tohru, while polite about it, does not like Akito and puts herself in direct opposition to her. Tohru does not originally want to be Akito’s friend, or to have anything to do with her. The cliff scene is not just Tohru befriending someone because she just is over forgiving and loves everyone (an argument can be made that she still goes to easy on Akito, but it’s in line with how the narrative treats her too so that’s another conversation), there was a specific reason both that she chose to try to get through to Akito and that it actually worked. Up until their big confrontation, Tohru still thinks of Akito as a threat, and while she has gotten more information that shakes up her view of Akito, she still doesn’t understand her well enough to see her as much more than an obstacle. Then Akito barges into her yard when she’s just been rejected, crying and confessing how terrified she is of being abandoned, of things changing, and Tohru just goes still, eyes wide in shock. And she realizes: her and Akito have been afraid of the same thing the whole time.  This is when Tohru decides to try to reach out to her. Because Tohru, on a deep level, sees Akito because of their similarities.  She calls Akito out on her insecurities, and Akito reacts badly, accusing Tohru of being “dirty” and trying to condescend.  Tohru partially rebukes this, not trying to hold herself above Akito as pure and righteous, but instead confessing her own fears of abandonment and change in an attempt to empathize with Akito.

At this part of the story, Tohru is fully coming into the realization that, in order to live her life, she needs to stop clinging to this idea of an “unchanging” relationship with her mom, something that scares her quite a bit. She realizes that, while she saw the flaws in Akito’s “eternity” and tried to destroy it, she had not been as perceptive with herself, clinging to that same notion. Tohru is an incredibly repressed character, especially in regards to emotions she thinks of as “dirty,” and she is showing a remarkable amount of vulnerability in this scene. Another thing to note about Tohru is that she, in her immense repression, will often process her own issues through other people. We see this throughout the story, from her showing grief over her mom by crying for Momiji and his mom to her projecting her fear of losing Kyo onto Kureno and Arisa. So then, it’s quite something to consider that the last Sohma she befriends is the one most emblematic of the issues she keeps locked up tightest? That as she’s speaking to her she’s deciding to move forward from her own fears? In a way, could accepting Akito be a symbol of Tohru accepting what she thinks are the darker parts of herself? Akito is also coming to a realization about moving on, acknowledging that the zodiac curse is coming to an end and that everything she believes is a lie, and she is absolutely distraught about it. But Tohru, in a way that nobody else does, understands Akito, and wants Akito to be her friend. Not out of pity or reverence, but a desire for solidarity. And this is the very reason why Tohru was actually able to get through to Akito. As we see with Kureno before he gets stabbed and Momiji at the beach house and when his curse breaks, it’s not like people haven’t kindly tried to get through to her before.

Of course, the reason it worked for Tohru can also be partially chalked up to the fact that Akito herself has come a long ways in personal realizations to the point that there’s just some things she can’t deny anymore, but that’s not all. Akito tends to react very negatively to what she sees as condescension, she thinks people want to try to pick her apart and see how she ticks just so they can look down on her, so they can see her as lesser. She thinks Tohru is trying to condescend too at first, especially since she perceives Tohru as this holier than thou saint wannabe. Fascinatingly, Akito’s view of Tohru is incredibly similar to that early fandom idea of Tohru as an angelic mary sue, and she hates her for it. She thinks that Tohru is trying to be like this and is seen as such, and that she (Akito) is the only who can see that Tohru is wrong somehow.

But Tohru rejects this notion of a pure her that both the fandom and her early self tried to project, presenting herself as flawed and human and purposefully trying to not put herself on a pedestal above Akito. She makes it very clear that she’s not trying to condescend, she is the same way (well, sorta) and she gets it. Notably, after this point Akito doesn’t accuse her of looking down on her, instead freaking out temporarily because of how much Tohru called her out before venting about her fears to her. And, while, partially due to outside circumstances, it does take Akito a bit longer to accept her offer of friendship, she legitimately manages to get through to her very soon after this point. If Tohru had tried one of her early series mom speeches on Akito, or just tried to blindly accept her without understanding, it would not have worked. Akito would have just written it off or reacted badly and left it there. But because Tohru tried to befriend Akito out of understanding as an equal it actually worked. You can’t separate Akito and Tohru’s parallels and their eventual friendship because one aspect is integral to the other.

A connected aspect of their relationship that I see talked of very little but is actually a pretty strong undercurrent is that of equality and power. To explain this, we have to look at Akito for a bit. Throughout her life, pretty much everyone around Akito has either put her on a pedestal or looked down on her. This is something that not only greatly damaged the way she thinks of herself and others, but has given her an intensely hierarchical view of relationships. We even see this notion clearly take form for her in the black paint scene, where she decides that Yuki, who she’d previously seen as the same as her, has to be lesser or else she will become useless.  From the moment Akito was born she was “God,” an existence above everyone else. Even her own father only seems to give her affection for being God, and when he dies and she takes his place as the head of the family she is just elevated even farther at an extremely young age. The only people (she thinks) she’s close to are the zodiac, and the curse itself puts an inherent power dynamic into that relationship that can only be overcome with its undoing. Akito clings to her power, to her rank in the hierarchy, all the while the very thing she desperately upholds has made her the real outsider. Akito, who does everything in the name of belonging, was always alone from the start. As Tohru points out, as long as she is above the group she cannot be a part of it.

Simultaneously, and almost contradictory to the pedestalization and power dynamic aspect, Akito is extensively coddled and pitied. A lot of the older adults around her treat her almost like a crotchety, spoiled child. A child who is coddled to the point of never being given any reprimand or instruction on just how to behave like a functional human being until things have gone far too far. Then you have cases like Kureno, who seems to still see Akito like a kid, pretty much just coddles her as a job, and only stays because he pities her. This leads to a strange dual sided dynamic in multiple cases, where Akito is seen as someone’s better and has more power but is also being looked down upon in a way too. Akito has never in her life been seen and treated as an equal, so it’s pretty important when it is made clear that Tohru tries to befriend her as an equal. After all this time, Tohru, an outsider that is not under Akito’s control, who can hold her ground in a challenge against her, is finally the one to meet her on the same level. There’s this page that I adore that symbolizes this idea really nicely. It opens on a panel of Akito sitting a distance away from the zodiac who are all having fun together, a motif we’ve already seen a few times, but this time Tohru sits down right next to her.

This page comes at a critical moment, when Tohru is offering her hand in friendship to Tohru, it’s Akito realization of what Tohru is trying to do. Later on, we get Akito narrating what this page was showing, which I think I just need to put in:

We also see a bit of their conversation after they reunite in the hospital later, where Tohru again denies that she is better than Akito. Now, I think both the Tokyopop and Yen Press translations of this scene are a bit weird, the Tokyopop version uses the word “pretty” (confusing) while the Yen Press uses “kind” (don’t think that’s the best word). However one time I saw like a Malaysian english release in the half price books that used “pretty on the inside” and I like that best so I’ll just pretend that’s it.

I think this scene is interesting because it could seem like they’re just talking about morality but that’s not it. This is, once again, Tohru pretty explicitly trying to stop the creation of any sort of hierarchy between her and Akito. It’s not about right or wrong, Tohru know very well that Akito’s done things wrong and actively worked to stop her, it’s about not wanting them to be put on some sort of different rank based on morality and Tohru understanding Akito enough to empathize with the fact that (wrong or no) Akito was really hurt by Tohru and they won’t get anywhere if they don’t acknowledge that. Furthermore, I’ve already talked a bit about it already, but I think the way that Tohru asserts that she gets what Akito’s feeling and thinks she herself is “dirty” during their confrontation is relevant here too. She is, again, presenting herself as someone on the same level who understands Akito and is not being nice out of pity. This then leads to the page I talked about before which is again, Akito realizing this! This is a huge moment for her, someone who has had all of her relationships messed up by inequality and has no idea how to have a normal relationship, who is having a breakdown because she thinks that because of this it’s too late for anyone to love her, to have someone who understands her and wants to meet her on the same level. Even if she tries to deny it and shift blame, at this point Akito has realized that the zodiac bond is not what she thought and that she has been acting horribly. The groundwork is already there for Akito to have a change of heart, especially considering that a lot of her horribleness stems from legitimate extreme ignorance and her obsession with the bond so once she’s snapped out of that… The main thing that’s holding her back past that is that she’s panicking and cannot see a way forward. So then when there’s someone who actually gets where she’s coming from instead of just tolerating her and is offering her the sort of friendship that she’s never gotten to have of course she’d go for it! Tohru Honda has proven Akito wrong in ever way and, in the end, she even proves her wrong on her greatest fear: that she can only be wanted because she’s God. Because of Akito’s specific issues, nothing could have been more powerful for her than someone coming to her as an equal. Again, the piece about why Tohru could get through to her. It just wouldn’t be the same if Tohru didn’t have a reason to want Akito around or if she somehow saw Akito as below her, the very core of their relationship is the destruction of hierarchies. From the beginning Tohru has been trying to destroy the hierarchy of the zodiac, and when it comes down to it she does not take Akito’s spot at the top, but decides to stand beside her and the zodiac instead. Early in the series we see Akito trying to have some power over Tohru through fear, but when the time comes and Akito is pretty much defeated Tohru does not take power as the victor, hoping that Akito joins her instead of being somehow defeated. And at the end of it all this works, and Akito dissolves the zodiac and with it most of her power and her godhood of her own accord. 

Despite their relative lack of page time, Tohru and Akito’s relationship has always been something that I come back to. Sure, a lot of that is just sentiment as they meant a lot to me when I was younger, but I think there’s something there. They work amazingly as protagonist and antagonist, contrasting nicely and working as symbols of both sides of the thematic conflict. There’s a palpable tension to their early interactions that makes you both scared and interested to see what happens when these two inevitably have to go head to head. But then, as the story goes on, it seems more and more like they are a tragedy, so similar yet on different sides of the story, fated to have one of them stuck with an unhappy ending brought on by the other.

But, even as dark as it gets, that wouldn’t really be Fruits Basket, would it? In the end, Tohru and Akito’s similarities win out, not their differences. I think it would have been so easy to just make this a story where the sweet heroine “saves” the villain just because, but that is so blatantly not what’s going on. Tohru simply sees herself in Akito, she’s not trying to somehow fix her and nor should she have to, she just wants to be her friend. And then the two manage to overcome their driving fear of moving on, forging new bonds and inspired by their interaction with the other. It’s not like Tohru somehow fixes Akito’s problems, Akito has to do things herself and in fact independence is a big theme of her endgame arc. Tohru simply offered her friendship, and that was enough. There’s a distinction to be made between how Tohru inspires Akito and Tohru somehow “saving” her, because Akito very much has to learn to save herself in the end after a lifetime of pushing her issues onto others. And, as a side note, all this is sort of why it bugs me when people act like Tohru would be like a mom to Akito. First off, Tohru shouldn’t have to be the mom to everyone. And, kind as she is, Tohru is also not a Kureno, she sees and interacts with Akito in a completely different way and their relationships with Akito are one of the big points were Tohru and Kureno differ. Second off, Akito has spent her life coddled and clinging onto anything that she can hold onto as a resemblance of parental affection to a toxic degree. Part of her arc is that she needs to grow out of this, become more independent, and have more balanced relationships. Akito at this point does not want or need to make a mommy figure out of one of her peers, and doing so may in fact be regressive. Sure, she will definitely need a level of guidance going forward, but it would be more beneficial for her to learn from example and under more of a friendly, balanced context coming from multiple people, not one person holding her hand. For all the reasons I’ve gone over in this entire post, I think it is much more meaningful for Akito to have Tohru as what she was canonically presented as in text: someone who sees her as an equal. The whole point of their relationship is, again, the defiance of hierarchies, something which I think is often sorely overlooked even though it is very openly there in text. And that, in part, is why I think their relationship is so powerful to me. Beyond hero and villain, right or wrong, or any story roles, it’s about two girls finding solidarity and friendship on a very personal, human level. This is Akito for the first time being seen not as this distant, untouchable male deity or some pitiful being, but as a flawed, hurt human girl who is nonetheless capable of change and being loved. This is Tohru coming out of hiding, presenting her flawed, terrified human self to someone she saw as an enemy. Fruits basket is, in part, a story about friendship and defeating systems of power and abuse. Even in a messy third act that muddles its themes at times by weighing character endings too heavily on het romantic love, especially in regards to the women (Hello Rin, Machi, Uo, ect.), Tohru and Akito stand out as a friendship that is given a huge amount of narrative weight. It just feels nice that, in a story that often focused on the power of relationships between women only to ditch all that and focus primarily on their relationships with men, these two girls are one of the driving forces of the endgame. The curse didn’t get broken by romantic love, but by the friendships everyone made along the way, including Tohru and Akito. Tohru has gotten it to this point, and now Akito just needs to bring it to a close and finally end things. At the very beggining, before this all started, all the cat wanted was for the God was to move forward and live as a person among the humans, and, finally, a long time later that wish was granted. The tale of the zodiac gets its happy ending not by a villain being defeated, but by the power of friendship and solidarity between women.

[saltymiraculer]

Ceremonial Kisses (Part 1 of 3)

Part 2

So I decided to try my hand at the “Marinette, the princess of China” trope and see how I did! Tell me what you think?

Also, the first chapter is going to be fluffy, the second chapter’ll have a sprinkling of salt, and the third chapter will be a mix of piles and piles of salt and some fluff. Be warned!

.

“I’ve got a big, big, big announcement for you today, class!“ Bustier chirped, clapping her hands to get their attention. “China’s princess will be coronated in a week and a half, the day she turns 18, as many of you know, and one class from the school will be selected to travel to China and watch the ceremony. Guess which class it was?“

“Uhhh…Mme. Mendeleiev’s!“

“Ooh, M. D’Argencourt’s? They’ve wanted that trip for weeks!“

“No, class, it’s ours! In three days, we’ll board the plane to Asia and have a few days to sightsee and explore, then attend the coronation on the second-to-last day!“

“Wow! Why our class?“ Kim asked.

Marinette knew exactly why. Marc had told her that the entire school was sick of Lila’s lies and wanted to enjoy the coronation without her butting in in the middle of the assembly to tell a ‘story’ about herself.

But she couldn’t just say that.

“You know, I actually know the princess,“ Lila said, immediately drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “But her identity is being kept a secret for now. That’s how we landed the trip!“

“Wow, Lila!“

“That’s amazing!“

“So cool of you.“

“They know that’s stupid, right?“ Alya stage-whispered, earning a glare from Lila’s new puppy–more commonly known as Kim. She shrugged. “I’m just tellin’ the truth!“

Alya, who was now her only other supporter next to Nino (and technically Adrien, but she’d discuss that later–it was very complicated), had decided to Google Lila’s name during a sleepover and found…some rather incriminating Facebook posts.

After that, she was 100% team Marinette and an amazing friend, along with Nino, who had decided that he needed a theme song. No one knew why.

But they loved him anyways!

So while Bustier was rattling off facts about Chinese emperors and kings and queens, Nino was showing them his latest idea to expose Lila.

“Okay,“ he started. “First, we go to China. Then we do our sightseeing and shit, and then. I did some research, and we can ask the princess questions if we’re with a national news channel. Alya’s blog counts. For real, we can talk to the princess of China. And we ask her if she knows Lila.“

“Brilliant plan, Nino. I wonder how the princess will react to a few teenagers in the middle of a crowd of famous people.“

Nino frowned. “The princess is only, like, 17. She’ll probably notice us, Als.”

“Oh, that reminds me, your birthday’s on the same day as the coronation, Marinette! Weird, isn’t it? That you and the princess have the same birthday?“ Alya asked, pulling out her phone and swiping through something.

“Huh, yeah. You’re right. Maybe we can invite her to my birthday party?“

“Ooh, the wiki page says she likes custard buns, and I’m not sure how they know that,“ Nino chuckled. “but make sure to stock up on those.“

“Noted,“ Marinette said drily as Bustier turned to them with a condemning look on her face. “Alya! I hope what you’re doing on that phone relates to the lesson!“

“China’s princess’s identity is being kept a secret because the last two were sent death threats, dangerous items, highly innapropriate items, and several other things that prompted them to not reveal the princess until it was necessary.“

“C-correct, Alya. Good job.“

“Nice!“ Marinette mouthed, high-fiving Alya, who flipped her phone around to reveal a website about the princess.

                                                           -🌸-

The final bell rang as several of the students cheered. One school day until the trip over, three more to go. Alya swung her bag over her shoulder and bumped Marinette’s elbow. “We goin’ to your place to hang out?”

“Yeah, my dad’s out anyways and mom closed the bakery for the afternoon. let’s go!“ Alya took Nino’s hand and walked the short distance to Marinette’s house. They entered and immediately felt something off.

Ah, there it was.

Sabine was leaning over the counter with a cup of very strong-smelling peppermint tea beside her. She was rubbing her temples and muttering to herself in rapid Mandarin.

“Maman? Are you alright?“ Marinette asked worriedly. Alya and Nino stood by the door–they had only seen her like this once before, when her cousin had been run over and killed.

“Yes, dear, everything’s okay, it’s just–there’s something I need to tell you.“

“Oh, no, did something happen to someone?“

“No, no, everyone’s just fine. I can’t not tell you without there being serious problems.“

“So what is it? What’s so important you had to close the bakery?“

“You’re the princess. China’s princess. The one nobody knows about.“

“I’m what?!“ Marinette screeched, grabbing at her hair. “I’m the heir to the throne of the most populated country in the world, and you waited until a week before the coronation to tell me?!“

“Holy shit.“ Alya and Nino said simultaneously. Sabine stared at them, likely just realizing they were there.

“Oh. They know now, too. Perfect, that’s just what we need, a reporter knowing who–“

“Maman! Alya wouldn’t tell a soul, I know she wouldn’t.“

Sabine turned to Alya. “I’m sorry, dear, I’m just stressed. With that trip to China in a few days and all that, we’ll have to close down the bakery for about a week.”

“And we never close down the bakery.“ Marinette finished, putting a steady hand on her mom’s shoulder. “But I know just the person to run it while we’re gone.“

As she was about to say who exactly would run the bakery, Nino backed into the door, wide-eyed.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. My best friend…holy shit.“

“Nino, I know this is a lot, but we’ll have to stay calm,“ Alya said, grabbing his hand. “So we don’t spill her secret. That’s top priority, all right? Don’t–tell–anyone.“

Nino sighed. “Sorry, babe. This…“ he turned to Marinette. “Do you have any cookies?“

Marinette grinned and led them into the kitchen. “Of course! Chocolate chunk or raspberry frosted?“

“Raspberry, all the way!“

“There’s the Nino I know!“

After a quick cookie interval, Marinette pushed her plate away and sighed. “Anyone up for an impromptu sleepover? You all left a bunch of your clothes here the last few times.”

“Marinette. If you know us, you will know our answers.“ Alya said solemnly.

“Hell yeah. Wanna go choose which terrible rom-com to watch this time?“

They ended up settling on The Kissing Booth, one of Marinette’s personal favorites (”To lighten the tension, you know?” Alya had said. “Although the tension in here probably weighs the same as an obese hippopotamus at this point.”) and made a bowl of caramel popcorn, with a tiny bag of sea-salt Skinny Pop for Nino.

“Sugar on popcorn is a crime, man. I ain’t touching that.“

“You’ve tried it once, Nino.“

“Yes, and I hated it. Is there anything else to be said?“

So they spent the next two hours in a blanket fort that was made almost entirely of throw pillows laughing over Elle and Noah and Lee being idiots, with a few highlights such as the iconic “Ninth grade skirt, eleventh grade body” scene, where Alya snorted and said “You know, Lila’s skipped so much school, might as well be ninth grade brain, eleventh grade work.”

“Too true,“ Nino agreed. “The other day, she called Chloe’s mom Aurora Bourgeois. That was a pretty major mess-up.”

“Shhh! Let’s just watch the movie!“ Marinette said, effectively quieting them down.

They watched the rest in silence with the usual laughs., ending up falling asleep halfway through the second movie, snuggled up on their respective couches. Marinette mother shook them awake the next morning, telling them to take showers and eat breakfast and get dressed and for god’s sake, Marinette, finish your homework.

“Crap, crap, crapcrapcrap! Nino, we’re going to be late if we don’t get ready fast!“ Alya shouted as Marinette ran up the stairs to change. “Can I use your shower, M?“

“Sure!“ was the muffled reply.

After about 10 minutes of running around and shoving waffles in their mouths, they grabbed their bags and ran off to school.

They burst through the door in the nick of time, the bell ringing just as they plunked down their things.

Bustier wasn’t there five minutes into the class, so they started talking.

“Marinette, you have to listen to Nino’s latest track, it’s–“ Just as she was about to describe Nino’s latest track, a bouncy-ball the size of a walrus snashed through the wall, nearly taking off Kim’s head.

There was a cackle from outside. “I am Gradack! You will all feel the same sorrow that I did!“

                                                          -🌸-

The fight was over relatively fast, and everything was calmed down and restored before their next class. Turns out Chat Noir didn’t show, so Marinette had to ask Alya for assistance.

In hindsight, she probably should have picked a better place to transform.

“Tikki, spots on!“ After she transformed, she was about to go to Fu to get one of the Miraculous, when she heard a strangled gasp.

“…shit.“

“My best friend is the princess of goddamn China and Ladybug? What the fuck?! Who are you? How did I not know? When did–“

“Alya, I know the feeling, but you can’t tell anyone. Got it?“

“Nino?“

“Well,“ Marinette paused to think. “Yeah, I guess. I trust him enough. Now, take this and transform!“ she tossed Alya the hexagonal box, and after a quick transformation, they ran off to defeat the saddened graduate of an akuma.

As she said, it was an easy fight.

They comforted the victim with four minutes (each) to spare, then ran back to the locker rooms to transform back.

                                                   Time Skip!

It was the morning of the flight to China, and she was ecstatic. Of course, she had to get up at 3:45 in the morning, but it was worth it–the flight took off at six in the morning, of course.

She could see the logic of wanting to arrive at 12:00, but she would’ve much preferred a red-eye.

Then she wouldn’t have had to stay up all night reading, because no way in hell would she just wake up at 3:45 in the morning.

The alarm would’ve had to go off for hours.

But back to the morning, she poured herself a sasquatch-sized mug of coffee, with about a gallon of cream and enough sugar to put an entire city of diabetics into shock, she started getting dressed.

Trudging around and haphazardly pulling out shirts, she finally decided on a simple red-and-orange flannel, a white t-shirt, and a pair of cropped jeans.

The she downed the rest of her coffee with an apathetic “Bottoms up!” and slapped her cheeks.

She grapped her suitcase and walked outside to where her mother was typing away on a laptop in the pitch-black night.

“Mom, why are you up?“

“Because I have to drive you to the airport, that’s why. And no alarm would be able to wake me up at 3 in the morning.“

“Preach. I’m ready to go, so can we get in the car now?“

After driving to the airport and saying goodbye to her mom, she walked into the airport and immediately saw the group of sleepy teens (and a certain disheveled teacher) leaning on their suitcases, trying not to fall asleep.

Nino and Marinette were already there, their eyelids drooping. The only person who looked properly awake was Sabrina, who was–inevitably–holding a saucer out to Chloé, who was sipping from a teacup.

Alya rolled her eyes and walked over to Marinette and Nino. “Who’re we missing?”

“Kim and Rose. They’re carpooling, so they should be here any minute.“

Just as Marinette had said, a few seconds later, Rose and Kim walked into the airport. Kim was still wearing pajama pants.

                                           Another Time Skip!

“Marinette.“ Alya groaned, shaking Marinette’s shoulders. “Marinette, wake up, we’re here.“

Marinette’s eyes fluttered open. “No. Five more minutes.”

“Everyone else is already off the plane!“

“Shit. Let’s go!“ Marinette said, jumping up, grabbing her purse (which she had recently learned concealed a kwami) and scrambling out the door.

Alya picked up the mini-backpack she now carried (which held Trixx, cookies, and some grape jelly) and followed her out the door.

Almost as soon as they stepped off the plane, they heard a loud wail.

“Great. She’s back on her bullshit.“

“I just can’t believe she would steal that, Lila! It’s so unlike her!“

“M-maybe, but there’s p-proof! Look!“

“Oh, great, what did we do this time?“ Alya asked exasperatedly. They watched as Lila held out the remains of–from what they could see from a meter away–a sketch of an orange mermaid gown with a black lace collar, ripped into quarters and laid out on the ground.

Marinette gasped beside her.

“That’s your dress, isn’t it?“

A small tear made its way down Marinette’s face. “It was going to be for you,” she said softly.

Alya threw her arms around Marinette and rubbed her shoulders. “It’s okay, sweetie. Once you’re princess, we’ll sue her for all she’s worth.”

Marinette detached herself from Alya and wiped her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Alya.”

                                                         -🌸-

Nino stormed up to where Alya and Marinette were standing with a furious expression on his face.

“That fox,“ he seethed. “that bitchy little fox of a liar stole your drawing.“

Marinette chuckled wetly. “Yeah, we know.“

“Are you okay? I know how important they are to you.“

“I’m fine, Nino, and o–who the hell are you?“ A man in an oddly formal suit was standing next to her, holding out a small red envelope.

Marinette plucked the envelope from his fingers, opened it, and read the contents. She looked up and nodded at the suit-wearing guy.

“Good. In that case, Miss Dupain-Cheng, I’m going to need you to come with me.“ Alya and Nino immediately stepped in front of her in a protective shield.

“She’s not in trouble, is she?“

The strange man looked surprisingly amused. “Not at all–but you might want to come with us, too. You as well, headphone-boy.”

Nino put a hand on his chest and gasped in offense.

“Nino. He’s going to drive us to the palace. You’re coming, too, ya doof!“ Nino made a noise of realization and followed them out to where a black limousine was waiting.

They climbed in and drove off.

About five minutes into the drive, he moved his foot to the side, accidentally kicking a black box.

Just as he was preparing his final goodbyes, it sprung open, and inside was a junk food lover’s heaven.

“Dude.“

[qqueenofhades]

Did Ivan and Fedyor ever have, like, one of those big first fights where there is this uncertainty of "are we over now?" ? I mean, they would be alright in the end, but between Fedyor's overthinking and Ivan probably not having a lot of experience with relationships, there would be room for them worrying for a time after it.

Sequel to this and prequel to this. Set, as usual, in Phantom!Verse.

Moscow, 2013

June 30, 2013, is not a good day. In fact, it might be the worst of all the days of Fedyor Kaminsky’s life to date, and it is made absolutely no better by the fact that he’s long known it was coming – he just hoped, however vainly, that it wouldn’t. Three weeks ago, on June eleventh, the Duma unanimously passed the law formally entitled “For the Purpose of Protecting Children from Information Advocating For a Denial of Traditional Family Values,” with only one abstention and no dissenting votes, and President Putin is going to ceremoniously sign it into law today. It’s more pithily known as the “anti-gay law,” and it basically prohibits anything related to acknowledging that homosexuals exist in Russia. Fedyor has been anxiously following its progress with his activist friends in their group chats, all of them praying for some last-minute miracle to swoop in and knock it off course. Now that’s not going to happen. He has no idea what is going to happen, but to say the least, it won’t be good. He’s taken some body blows before, but this one sucks.

Fedyor vacillates wildly between wanting to watch the signing ceremony just to scream obscenities at it, and wanting to hide under the covers with the pillows over his head and cry. He texts frenetically with his friend Lyosha, who lost his position at Perm State University a few months ago for daring to do research about LGBTQ people, and is already planning to head into exile abroad. Does he have to do that too? Fedyor has lived in Russia his entire life, even if he has traveled internationally and has lots of foreign friends. He could stay. He could try to fight this thing somehow. He could do more. He should do more.

But how?

When Ivan gets home from work at six o’clock that night, that’s where he finds Fedyor: sitting on the living room floor under a quilt and neurotically eating chocolate biscuits, texting and crying. He drops his backpack and rushes over. “Fedya? Fedya! What’s wrong?”

“He signed it,” Fedyor says flatly. No more elaboration is necessary. “So now we’re fucked.”

Ivan looks troubled. He rocks back on his heels next to Fedyor and searches for the words. Then he says, clearly trying to be helpful, “Maybe not. Nobody has to know about us. If we just keep on like before, go about our daily lives, it will be all right. We are not important people. Why would they bother with us?”

“What?” Fedyor wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and lurches upright, shedding the quilt and a shower of cookie crumbs. “What are you talking about? Just – deny ourselves and go back in the closet and pretend we’re not here, that those assholes won? Go out, but make sure I never hold your hand walking down the street or dare to pretend that we are together? I don’t want to be afraid every second we’re out in public, Vanya! I don’t want to be wondering if maybe they’ll look at my emails or cook up some other reason to come after us! Lyosha already got fired before this even officially passed, and – ”

“Lyosha was a radical beforehand,” Ivan says dismissively. “It wasn’t because of this, I’m sure. So what? He’ll get a fancy position somewhere else. The West will love to take in the gay Russian, persecuted by the barbaric Putin regime, to show off how humane and enlightened they think they are. He will be fine.”

Fedyor looks at him as if he has two heads. “That’s how you’re reacting to this?”

“What am I supposed to do about it?” Ivan shrugs. “We have to make the best. What else are we going to do? Leave Russia?”

“Maybe we have to. What other choice do we have?”

“Stay?” Now it’s Ivan’s turn to sound like he’s talking nonsense. “Russia is our home!”

“Look, Vanya. I know you and I think differently about things, and we’ve gotten used to that. But I can’t – I physically cannot – stay in a place where I am criminalized for existing, for loving you, for being afraid that something will happen to us. We have to go.”

“No.” Ivan’s voice is colder than Fedyor has ever heard it. He sounds like a stranger. “No, we don’t. That’s crazy talk. Where would we go? America?”

“At least America doesn’t have this law!”

“America has no law that is helpful for us!” Ivan shouts. “And I’m not going there. The end! You make that choice, Fedya. Exile, or me?”

There’s a horrible silence in the wake of that pronouncement, as they stare at each other and Ivan instantly looks like he wants to bite it back, but it’s too late. Fedyor turns on his heel and marches away in frozen silence, refusing to utter a single word to Ivan for the rest of the night, even as Ivan tries to apologize and coax him into speaking again. Finally, taking the hint, he takes his things and silently goes to sleep on the couch, and Fedyor lies in their bed, staring at the ceiling and tossing and turning. Ivan didn’t mean that, right? Or maybe he did? Flee Russia, start a new life somewhere across the sea, but leave his boyfriend behind? Until recently, he thought Ivan Sakharov was the love of his life. Maybe he isn’t. Or even more terrifyingly, he is, and Fedyor will have to give him up anyway.

The rest of the week is just as bad. Ivan leaves early for work and keeps to himself when he gets home, while Fedyor starts Googling the U.S. asylum-claim process and reaching out to North American-based friends who can help with logistics. He spends hours on the computer, takes reams of notes, and doesn’t feel any better. Is he planning this for them or for him? He needs to answer that question like, now, and yet the prospect fills him with sickening dread. He cries himself to sleep with the bedroom door shut, and hears awkward shuffling in the corridor outside, like Ivan is listening and desperately wants to come in, but doesn’t think Fedyor wants him there. That’s even worse.

Finally, on Saturday night, Fedyor decides that they can’t go on like this. He drags himself out of his cave of blankets and cooks a nice supper, while Ivan goes for his usual afternoon workout at the gym, and when he comes back, he blinks. “Fedya? What’s this about?”

“We need…” Fedyor’s throat is a desert. “We need to talk about us.”

Those six little words are usually the kiss of death in any relationship, and he has no idea what’s about to happen next, but Ivan’s face wrenches in half like a torn piece of paper. He opens his mouth, shuts it, shakes his head furiously, and comes to a sudden and unassailable decision. With that, still in his gym clothes, he drops his bag and goes to one knee on the creaky wooden floor of their kitchen, in this humble sixth-floor Moscow flat that is the first place Fedyor ever knew pure and perfect happiness. “Okay,” he says. “How is this for a start. Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky, will you marry me?”

Fedyor stares at him, utterly blankly, seized with the horrible fear that Ivan is making fun of him. “Have you – are you – are you serious?”

“Yes.” Ivan reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. “I wanted to do this in a different way, but maybe this is better. Fedya, I don’t – I can’t – I don’t want to live without you. I’ll even move to America if you want to. I’m no good without you. I can’t. Please.”

Fedyor continues to stare at him. Then finally he moves closer, as Ivan holds out the ring with a look of utter, silent entreaty, his heart wrung out and raw in his eyes. “Are you – ” Fedyor’s voice is a whisper. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Ivan says again, strong and steady. “More than I have ever been about anything.”

Fedyor starts to answer, and simply can’t. He starts to shake from head to toe, and Ivan scoots forward, still on his knees, and wraps both arms around Fedyor’s waist, burying his face in Fedyor’s stomach. Fedyor clutches hold of him and sinks down, the two of them barely making a sound. Finally, he whispers, “You hate America.”

“I don’t,” Ivan says. “Not really. But either way, I love you, Fedya. And I’m choosing that.”

Fedyor grips Ivan’s face in his hands and kisses him thoroughly, then remembers that he still technically hasn’t accepted his proposal, and he should do that. He holds out his right hand so Ivan can slip on the plain band, with the promise to buy him a nicer one once they get to wherever they’re going. He’ll help with arrangements, he promises. Whatever Fedyor needs him to do.

They board an Aeroflot flight, Moscow Sheremetyevo–New York JFK, on the evening of August 3, 2013, with all their worldly belongings either in the cargo hold or waiting to be shipped over by Fedyor’s parents. They hold hands in the terminal, unobtrusively, and when they get on the plane. And even as the jet engines roar into takeoff and the lights of his homeland fall away into the clouds for what might be the last time in who knows how long, Fedyor Kaminsky can’t help but feeling, once again, ready to start anew.

[itsamejin]

goodbye || part 2 (finale) || yoongi angst/fluff

Part 1

Summary: Yoongi watched silently as you exited the car and out of his life, but he can’t help but feel a sense of panic at the thought of you leaving him for good.

Warning: cursing, fighting (verbal), pining

Genre: angst

Premise: Yoongi drives off without you after a heated argument and now you’re gone.

Commission Request: @queenoftheuniverseandmyroom​

Word Count: 5,354 words

—

Yoongi paces back and forth as he calls the police to file a missing persons report. Yoongi was on the street he last saw you in and he had scoured through the neighborhood to figure out where you were- even knocking down on a few doors. 

He didn’t want to escalate the situation and post about you going missing on social media-  that would be too risky. It would hurt his career and possibly put your life in more danger with crazy fans and flashing cameras looming the streets to get a glimpse of you. Lord knows that’s the last thing either of you need at the moment.

“Yeah I was in my car and she left after we got into an argument,” he repeats for what felt like the eleventh time. The dispatch caller kept asking him the same questions. “She was wearing a red dress and I think black heels. Oh, and she had a pearl necklace!”

The dispatcher took note of his descriptions and assured him that patrolling police officers in the area would let him know where you were. After he hung up the phone, his shaky hands brushed his hair back out of exasperation. 

It was already two o’clock in the morning by now and everything in his body screamed to be in bed, but he knew he couldn’t bring himself to rest without finding you.

Yoongi had driven from the street he last saw you on and to your shared apartment, hoping that you’d somehow shown up between those short intervals of time. His palms were damp from the sweat and he sat on the hood of his car to gain composure. It just felt like the whole world was against him at that moment.

He couldn’t do much by himself, especially being an idol, and it felt like he had no control over the situation. Yoongi risked calling the cops, aware that they’d know of his identity eventually- that he was Suga from BTS. 

Yoongi doesn’t know if he could handle the consequences that came with revealing he was in a relationship and what his company would do if the whole world found out that Yoongi let his girlfriend walk out on him in the middle of the night.

That wasn’t what concerned Yoongi the most, though. All he wanted to do was find you and take you home- maybe even give a proper apology. He never expected to file a missing persons report on the one person he thought would stay constant in his life. He felt his heart rate increase at the thought of you being hurt and that made him grip the hood of the car harder.

Red dress. Pearl necklace. Recently heartbroken.

A perfect description.

—

Walking barefoot on concrete, you held your black pumps in one hand and cringed at the crunching sounds underneath your toes. You were still walking. Towards what? You don’t really know.

You were sure, though, that you were closer to a downtown area when the city lights became more luminescent as you walked. The clouds in the sky were graying and a storm was ready to start. If you didn’t find shelter soon then you’d risk getting caught up in rain at a dangerous time of night.

Truthfully, you were frightened. Walking alone at night in an unfamiliar part of town would always incite some sort of paranoia, especially as a girl, but the idea of Yoongi finding you more than anything else is what frightened you the most. You knew he’d be angry with you for storming off and you weren’t ready to face him quite yet.

You winced as you felt a sharp pebble dig into your big toe and you could only walk it off to make the pain go away just a little. A hotel room seemed like the best option at that point, but you left your wallet back in the car. You sighed to yourself. This really was the worst way to make a dramatic exit from a relationship. Yoongi was probably having the time of his life back at the apartment and here you were, picking off tiny rocks from your feet.

Suddenly, you came to a halt. 

Crescent Motel: You Pay After Your Stay!

A motel that would let you pay the next day. It was dingy and the beds were most likely infested with bedbugs, but it would have to do for the night. You’ll get yourself out of this rotten dress at the very least. Plus, you could just ask the front desk to call a friend in the morning. 

You walk into the lobby, a cozy sort of room with a television on one side of the wall. You wondered if it even really worked.

“Can I get your name?” the receptionist asks. He was a grimy old man that smelled too much of alcohol and smoke. He kind of reminded you of Yoongi in that he never looked at you directly. His eyes were always somewhere else.

“Do you really need my name?” you ask condescendingly. The least the guy could do was make eye-contact. You’ve had a rough day as it is.

He still refuses to look up and slides the room key onto your side of the desk.

“Don’t tell me if you want to,” he grumbles. “I just need something to put down in the records.”

You scoff, taking the keys off the table, and hiking up your dress slightly to walk past him. You pause for a bit and turn back around.

“Put down Yoongi,” you say, a certain conviction in your voice. “And if a guy who looks like a celebrity comes, don’t tell him that I’m here. Got it?”

He gives you a slight glance before he goes back to filing paperwork and chewing his own spit or whatever was in that old mouth of his.

“Is that even your name?” he asks nonchalantly, quickly penning it onto his records before closing the folder. You shake your head.

“It’s my ex-boyfriend’s,” you say, slightly cringing at the sound of it. Ex.

“Thought so,” the man muttered and you can’t help but laugh. Like Yoongi indeed. 

The room key had B28 etched very finely on it and so you ventured on to find the room you’d be staying in for the night. Despite your assumptions, it was actually quite a nice room- dated at most. There was a single bed with light bedding, enough to get you through the night. You shed yourself of the red dress and put on the robe provided by the motel.

Lightning struck outside and you could hear the first drops of rainfall. You sit on the bed with shaky hands, slightly startled at the sound. Almost suddenly, you feel a sense of sadness overcome you. 

Yoongi was probably at home, sleeping without much thought, while you had to struggle through an hour of walking to find a place to stay. It made your blood boil, knowing that he was probably fine without you in his life.

If you were a little smarter in your decision-making than maybe Yoongi would have dropped you off somewhere closer to home or maybe you would have gotten enough time to gather your belongings from the apartment. Now you were just in an unfamiliar room, wearing an unfamiliar robe, staring at an unfamiliar wall.

—

Yoongi sits inside as the rain pours heavily on his car windows. The cops are searching through the streets and yet not a sign of you has appeared. Big Hit was informed and now the whole Gangnam Police Force was forced to keep everything under wraps to keep his situation as discreet as possible. This meant, though, that there would be no large-scale search parties and less of a chance to find you. 

As the rain poured outside, Yoongi grows restless in his car. There was too much on his mind and yet not enough of his thoughts were fleshed out enough to even act on them. He needed to clear his thoughts.

Yoongi opens the door and walks out of the car, allowing the droplets of water to hit him. It served as a good distraction for the ache in his chest and pretty soon, his hair was practically soaked. He feels a tap on his shoulder. 

It’s a police officer.

“Someone reported seeing a woman who matches Ms. [Y/N] at the downtown area,” he informs. “We have reason to believe that she might have taken shelter in a nearby building.”

Yoongi nods, still quite out of it. What would he even do if he actually sees you? What could he possibly say?

‘Hey, I admit I fucked up, can we go back to normal again?’ didn’t quite cut it and he knew you wanted more from him than just a simple apology. You wanted a change in the relationship, an indication that you were more than just a secret to him. He just doesn’t know where to start without completely ruining his future.

“We’ll search around that strip. For now, you should go back home,” the cop suggests. Yoongi shakes his head.

“I’ll do my own search,” he says lowly. Yoongi turns back to his car and sits in the driver’s seat, wincing at the feeling of his wet clothes on the leather seats. He takes a look at the handbag on the passenger seat and feels a lump form at his throat. You couldn’t have gone far... right?

He drove in the dead of night, water splashing across the windows of his car. It was hard to drive with such a big migraine, but the thought of you being out there stranded left him restless.

It’s not like he’ll be able to sleep without you by his side anyway.

—

You laid on the bed, listening to the droplets of water hit the roof of the motel. It was soothing in a way, to know that the world was crying just as much as you were. It felt useless to try and close your eyes and ignore the aching in your heart and so it only made sense to wallow in your own sadness.

You search for your phone, but remember that it’s not with you. You sigh to yourself, using your elbow to cover your eyes but to no avail. Just sleep and forget his existence. Sounds easier said than done, doesn’t it?

You adjust yourself on the bed and try to imagine Yoongi sleeping next to you. It’s a common practice of yours. Even when you were angry, even when you hated his guts, you could not sleep peacefully without Yoongi by your side.

He was a constant presence and when he’d be gone for tours and business trips, you were left fatigued and worn out because of your lack of sleep. It wasn’t healthy, for sure, but that’s what happens when you get into relationships. You grow dependent.

You imagine the Yoongi in front of you humming a lullaby. You imagine that he’s stroking your hair wistfully and whispering that everything will be okay. You imagine that this Yoongi would never dream of hurting you, never dream to even try. 

For a second, it worked, but you were left with a deeper feeling of emptiness. That Yoongi didn’t seem to exist.

—

Yoongi finds a place, a little worn down but suitable enough to assume that you’d probably settle for it. Plus, it was the only nearby motel that would let you pay after staying- he had your handbag and phone with him after all. He walks in, soaked and worry etched all over his face. It was a strange sight indeed. A guy with dyed hair, soaked and carrying a woman’s handbag- not exactly the most ideal sight for a motel manager.

The man at the counter gives him a glare, not even bothering to hide his disdainful expression.

“Listen, kid, if you’re gonna rent a room-”

“I’m here to look for someone,” Yoongi cuts him off, a certain urgency in his voice that catches the elder man off-guard. ‘A guy who certainly looked like a celebrity,’ he thought to himself.

“Her name’s [Y/N],” Yoongi continues, “and she was wearing a red dress and had black heels on. She was probably distressed or seemed angry. Have you seen her?”

The old man just sighs, looking Yoongi dead straight in the eye.

“No,” he replies, too stern for the younger boy to truly believe.

Yoongi clenches his teeth. This run down, poor excuse of a motel was his only shot at finding you. Now, it felt like there were no other options but to wait. And he hated waiting.

Yoongi’s eyelids were growing heavy and he felt about ready to collapse from the coldness of his wet skin. This is not how he wanted to end the day off, with mild hypothermia and a broken heart.

“Then can I stay here,” Yoongi pleads, taking another step forward much to the old man’s dismay. “Just for tonight.”

He grunts in response.

“I’ll pay extra. It’s just...”

He trails off, not quite knowing how much he should reveal to a total stranger. There was still a possibility this guy would know he is, but judging from the lack of interest, Yoongi assumed it was safe to just confide in someone. Anyone.

“My girlfriend walked out on me and I need to stay in this area just in case the police find her around here,” he says in a single breath. “Then why this place?” the old man sighs. “There’s plenty of high-end hotels on this street you could stay at.”

He takes a look once more at Yoongi’s feet.

“And you’re ruining the carpet,” he grumbled.

Yoongi bites his lip, now in front of the secretarial desk. This man was pissing him off. Yoongi digs into the pocket of his jeans and takes out his wallet. He smacks a wad of cash onto it, staring at the man dead in the eye.

“Is this enough?” he asks through gritted teeth. The man scoffs and pushes the money away.

Your girlfriend isn’t here, kid. Now get lost before I call the cops on you.”

Yoongi pulls out more, his eyes now getting teary-eyed. The man stares at Yoongi’s shaking fingers. He was quite persistent, wasn't he?

“I just need a place to fucking stay,” Yoongi repeats with more of a timber in his voice. The old man stares at Yoongi directly, the first time he's met eyes with another person in a while.

“You’re the type to think money fixes everything- aren’t you?”

The man glares at him. Yoongi’s mouth opens slightly. You had said those words to him just earlier in the night. He pulls his hand back but leaves the money on the counter.

“N-no,” he says through bated breaths. “I’m not usually like this, I’m so sorry.”

Yoongi ruffles his hair and wipes a stray tear out of his eye.

“I’m just really desperate to find her,” he continues. “I’ve just been acting like a fucking dumbass for the past few hours.”

The old man sucked in a deep breath before exhaling loudly. ‘This was a pitiful sight indeed,’ he thought to himself. 

“What’s your name, kid?”

Yoongi wanted to introduce himself as Suga by instinct, but he knew it probably would not have occurred to the old man who you were.

“Yoongi,” he says slowly. “Min Yoongi.”

The old man looks at his list and sure enough, the name you had given him was right there. Your ex. It wasn’t any of his business to help fix a broken couple, but it was in his best interest to get this weeping boy out of his lobby. He takes a pair of keys from under the table. 

“I’m not letting you stay because all the rooms are booked,” he states throwing the keys to Yoongi who was caught off-guard. “I’ll let you take this one, but you better not bring the feds here. I’m not ready for this place to shut down again.”

Yoongi nods, slightly confused about why he would hold back giving him a room in the first place. He muttered a small thanks before bowing to the older male.

“Now get out of the lobby,” he scolded, glaring at the wet footprints Yoongi left behind.

He took a look at the keys to see the room number. B28. 

—

You were ready to drift off into sleep but it seems the world has a way of wanting you to fear for your life.

You heard a jingling noise at your door, the doorknob turning as if a key was inserted. You held your breath, afraid for your life. You stood up quietly, grabbing the rather large lampshade next to your bed. ‘This motel was shady for a reason,’ you thought to yourself.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeat under your breath. You got ready into a tackling stance, the lampshade in hand. You took enough self-defense classes to know what you’re doing. When it swung open, the door almost hit you on the face. That didn't deter you though and so you charged at the stranger with all your might.

“Woah,” Yoongi shouts as he just missed your swing, pivoting to the side as you stumbled past him. You recognized that voice in an instant and you locked eyes with Yoongi who was noticeably soaked and carrying your handbag. It was embarrassing, how badly you missed, and he would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the context of the situation. 

You stood up straight and give him a glare. Somehow, it made you angrier seeing his face, but you couldn’t quite express that anger when Yoongi brought you into his arms almost immediately. The lampshade and bag fell onto the rug with a thud and you were engulfed by his body.

“[Y/N],” he sighed into your hair, the anxiety of losing you now gone from his mind. He pulls away, examining your body.

“What are you doing here?” Yoongi says, panic laced in his voice. “I was so fucking worried something happened. You left your stuff in the car and I brought them with me just in case and-”

You push him away, annoyed with the wet droplets that now stained your robe.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you yelled. “How the hell did you get in here?”

“The old man let me in,” Yoongi swallowed. “I guess he knew that I needed to see you.” You roll your eyes. You knew that old fart couldn’t be trusted.

“Well get out,” you say frankly. “I don’t want to see you.”

Yoongi shakes his head.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m taking you back home.”

You take a step back from him.

“Yoongi,” you say, scarily slow. “Give me my bag and leave. I’m not going to say it again.”

You try to reach for the bag that was on the floor next to him, but he pulled it away.

“I thought I fucking lost you, you know that?” his voice was shaking. “I thought you’d be gone and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

Yoongi looked at you with pleading eyes and it almost made you want to comfort him. Almost.

“Well you did,” you reply sternly.

Yoongi pursed his lips.

“I’m tired [Y/N],” he admits sadly, dropping the wet bag onto the bed. “I don’t know what else to do besides apologize.”

You grit your teeth.

“Leave.”

Yoongi shakes his head and you cringe as he sits down, the bed getting wet because of him. It would’ve made you even more pissed if it weren’t for the tears spilling from your eyes.

“I thought I fucking lost you,” he sighs into his hands. You could hear a shakiness in his voice that wasn’t there before. Yoongi was always quieter in how he expressed his feelings. He isn’t the type to just cry outright.

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to apologize in the morning,” he tried to say, but you could tell he was a bit choked up, “that I fucked everything up and you’d still be missing or you’d wound up dead or something.” He grounds his face into his palms and it genuinely made you feel sorry for him. You did kind of leave without a trace.

“And its fucking raining,” he says a little more calmly, looking up at you with red eyes. “You hate when you get stuck in the rain.”

It broke your heart, the way he chuckled sadly at his own statement. For the first time ever, it felt like he was the broken one and not you.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, setting aside his wet bangs. You were calmer now. “Go home.”

He shakes his head and leans into your touch.

“I can’t sleep without you by my side,” he whispers and you swear you could hear your heart crack. You weren’t the only one to feel that way too...

You didn’t have the heart to forgive him, but you couldn’t let him go back out in the pouring rain.

“You can stay here,” you say. “I’ll find another room.”

He grabs your wrists and intertwines his hands into yours.

“Please,” he pleads. “Just stay with me. I’ll leave before you wake up.”

You wanted so desperately to say no, but it was clear now that Yoongi was just as hurt as you were. It was in the way he held your hands as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. His fingers were shaky and you could do nothing but comply.

You nod despite it all and detach yourself from him to close the door. You walk over to the closet and take out a spare robe. You hand it to him without a second glance, moving to the other side of the bed.

“Tell the police to stop searching,” you say as you lay underneath the sheets that weren’t dampened by Yoongi. “You found me.”

The words, strangely, were enough to comfort him. He called the head officer and with much difficulty, got everything to be cleared out. He’d have to suffer the consequences tomorrow, but for now, he just wanted to search for comfort in your presence.

Pretty soon he laid next to you in his new robe. You turn to face away from him, afraid of making eye-contact. You were always too forgiving when you looked him in the eyes. Yoongi didn’t make any movement to get closer, he just watched your slowing breaths and wondered to himself.

“You are good enough,” he says into the night. It came out of nowhere and it makes your heart stop momentarily.

“Earlier when you said you didn’t feel good enough to be with me,” he starts off with his voice incredibly low. “You are good enough.”

You take a deep breath to prevent yourself from being too emotional. You turn to face him, about to speak, but he beats you to it.

“I’m not going to apologize again, don’t worry,” he swallows. “I just wanted to let you know that you mean much more to me than I show.”

He closes his eyes for a second before continuing on.

“I’m bad at keeping relationships,” he says honestly, “but I want to stay with you... as long as you would let me.”

You laugh through the sadness of it all. You two were far too tired to have a screaming match with one another and it felt good to just talk rather than yell.

“Yoongi, why did you tell Hoseok you didn’t want to be with me?” you ask, no ill intent in your voice. “I want a genuine answer.”

You could feel him shuffle around in the bed out of discomfort. 

“I was mad at you,” he said as nicely as he could put it. “I was frustrated that you kept asking me to reveal our relationship to the public.”

You stay still, worried about what he would say next. It would be the final blow to your already crumbled pride.

“It’s stupid to even admit it and I don’t have any real excuses, but...”

He somehow couldn’t finish his sentence.

“But what?”

He sighs and turns the other way. Now he was the one ignoring confrontation.

“I liked that we were our own little secret you know?” he starts and you feel your blood boil a little at his words, but he continued. “So much of my life is broadcasted to the world and I feel like nothing is really mine anymore. Every single moment is dedicated to my fans and whenever you ask me to let that go, it just feels like I’m losing a part of myself more and more. The part that isn’t an idol.”

You understood what he meant, but at the same time, you felt like it was oddly selfish of him.

“I don’t like being a secret, Yoongi,” you say to him. No anger in your voice, just disappointment. He clenches his fist.

“Yeah, I understand that,” he whispers back. “I’m sorry.”

You reach out a hand towards him and he shivers at your touch. You pull into him, laying your head on his shoulder blade.

“You said you wouldn’t say it anymore,” you mutter into his body. 

He shrugs.

“I don’t think I’ve said it enough,” he admits, holding your hand in his. This was how he wanted to end the day off- with you by his side.

“I’m sorry too,” you say and he feels himself crumble at your words. He turns around slowly and engulfs you in his arms.

“Moments like this,” he sighs, nuzzling into your hair. “I want it to be between us.”

“It would still be you and me, no matter what,” you reply.

“I know,” he says solemnly. “But people will try to get between us and I doubt want to hurt you more than I already have.”

You nod along, but you could feel tears start to prick in your eyes.

“I just don’t want to feel like you’re hiding me from everyone,” you admit. “Being with you should be enough, but somehow it isn’t.”

He strokes your head and the two of you don’t speak any longer. 

“I’m sorry.”

You find yourself unable to cry at his words. It seems like he had given up and to you, that’s what frightened you the most. You clench onto him as if he’d disappear at any moment. A few minutes ago, that’s all you would have wanted, but now it seemed like you’d die without him by your side. He eases your panic by rubbing your back and you find yourself drifting off to sleep. He stares off into the darkness of the motel room, whispering to no one in particular.

“I’ll do better.”

—

You find yourself alone the next morning, sprawled out on the bed. Your phone and bag were left on the nightstand and the lampshade went back to its proper place. He left you in the room as if he wasn’t there in the first place. You take a look at the closet and see that he laid out clothes for you from home. Tears start to fall. It was over, wasn’t it?

Last night felt like a goodbye, like a last farewell. Maybe you were asking for it in the way you shouted at him the night before, but your heart was still heavy at the thought of him leaving. You didn’t hate him, you could never hate him, but both of you said so many horrible things last night that you wonder if it could ever be taken back.

You get yourself dressed and walk down to the lobby where the wet footprints of last night no longer stained the carpet. You lock eyes with the old man and slide the keys to him. You take out your wallet, prepared to pay until he stops you.

“He covered it already.”

Your jaw drops slightly and you clutch the cash in your fingers.

“You let him into my room,” you accuse. “I told you to tell him I wasn’t here.”

He ignores your watchful gaze, arranging some stuff on his desk that was already quite pristine.

“You got the closure you wanted, didn’t you?” he grumbled. 

“That’s not the point. He could’ve been a serial killer for all you know and you-”

“But he wasn’t,” the old man rolled his eyes. “He was your ex that fucking paid twice the amount you pulled out. I promise you, your safety was a passing thought to me.”

You sigh angrily, scrounging through your purse. Your phone was charged, presumably from Yoongi, and so you called a friend to get you out of this dingy motel. You’d report this crusty old man later. Surprisingly she picked up quite quickly.

“Hey-”

“[Y/N]!” she screeched through the other line. “Look at the news! Oh my fucking god, Yoongi just-”

Your hands were shaking, not paying attention to the rest of her words. Nothing bad could have happened from last night, could it? You hung up before she could screech in your ears once again. 

You couldn’t type out his name on your phone fast enough from how shaky your hands were until you heard the sound of the lobby television turn on. The old man had the remote in his hand and he gave you a smirk. You turn your attention away from him and toward the screen instead.

“BigHit Entertainment confirms that BTS’s Suga is in a relationship,” the announcer states with a stern voice. “He asks for people not pry on the identity of his non-celebrity girlfriend and any malicious comments or rumors will be legally dealt with by his agency. More updates soon.”

You felt your eyes tear up, happiness swelling on your chest. You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe he actually did it.

“You’re welcome, you know,” the old man said slyly. You ignore his words, slapping a rather large sum of money on the desk before rushing outside. You call him this time, happy tears streaming down your face. Yoongi didn’t even have a chance to say hello before you started talking.

“I love you,” you scream into your phone. You repeat the words so much that you could hear your own echo. 

“Babe, I’m getting scolded right now,” he laughed. “I’ll talk to you later okay? No celebrations yet.”

You nod, slightly worried about his statement.

“You’re going to be okay, right?” you ask worriedly. “They’re not planning to kick you out or anything?”

He scoffs.

“And lose one of their best songwriters? Not a chance.”

You shake your head.

“Still cocky as always though,” you tease.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures. “It’s the least I could do for you.”

You purse your lips. He had to make a lot of sacrifices too.

“I love you,” he says lowly. “And I’m not gonna make you ever doubt that again.”

You close your eyes at the sound of his confession. It felt genuine like he didn’t say it just to end an argument. It felt real.

“I love you too.”

He gives a toothy grin, knowing full well that you aren’t able to see how stupidly satisfied his face is. The managers looked at him with watchful gazes and he nervously coughed, wiping the smile off of his.

“We’ll talk more about this later,” he replies, “You know, in our home.”

You smile lightly.

“Okay, see you later then,” you say, already listing all the complications that come with going public, but you’re much happier nonetheless. There’d be no more rumors of him dating other girls or random idols trying to set themselves up with him. Maybe there’d still be doubts, but in the end, you’d figure out a way to work it out. That’s how relationships are after all. “Goodbye,” he said cheerily through the receiver, trying to ignore the staff members telling him to hang up the phone. “I love you [Y/N].”

“Goodbye, Yoongi,” you giggle at his repeated confession. “I love you too.”

—

A/N: I didn’t want to end this off on a bad note but I didn’t want to end it off on a super good note either. Of course, problems will still arise in a relationship so I left it off kind of bittersweet (more sweet in this case) but yeah. Thanks again to @queenoftheuniverseandmyroom​ for being so amazing and so patient with this, I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know how you guys feel!! Leave me any comments, criticism, anything! 

I know some of you guys wanted an angst ending but I do too many angst endings and I just feel like I wanted to switch things up you know?? Also... keep an eye out for my drabble game that I’ll post in a few days. I will accept the first ten requests ;)

PS: I don’t respond to comments on my stories because this is my side blog so if I reply back it’ll be on my main blog :((( I’ll try to figure out a way so that I can respond to you guys because I really want to be more interactive. Let me know if you guys have loopholes for this problem thank youuu

[amelia]

related to that last ask but now i actually have a question! what are your favourite episodes for amy as a character? (sorry if i’m pestering you btw you don’t have to answer right away ❣️)

it is absolutely never a bother for me to talk about amy pond!! gosh though this is a Question. okay. i did interpret this as episodes that are my favorite for the lens of My Understanding Of Amy instead of favorite pond era episodes as a whole if that makes sense? under the cut bc i got long as i tend to do

i think my number 1 has to be the big bang, because it really is just like. okay, pond era absolutely runs into the problem of frequently making stories/episodes that should be centered around amy's emotional journey actually about somebody else — but the big bang is all hers. it is all on her! she's leading the show SHE'S the one in the pandorica SHE'S the one who remembers the doctor into existence it is HER choice to say goodbye to leadworth and continue to travel completely without remorse SHE IS THE HERO. it goes from "time can be rewritten, he'll find a way" to AMY being the one who finds the way. rory and river and the doctor all of course get their Moments but it's unquestionably amy's spotlight moment the whole way through

i have also ALWAYSSS been obsessed with starless universe amelia and the way that she still believes in stars in a world where they DON'T EXIST the power of her mind and the conviction of her beliefs is a CORE TENET of amy's character, the doctor has NOTHING to do with it!!! it's just who she is !!! best character of all time <3

other things about the amy's writing in this episode i love: the line "the universe pouring into her dreams every night," space florida outfit <3, ok i obviously do not love this but i think so much about amy talking about the doctor at her wedding and her mother is still like "NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN… i thought the psychiatrists FIXED her" like once again !!! a UNIVERSAL CONSTANT that amy is the one who believes in things nobody else does and is LOUD about it and is RIGHT !!! (let's kill hitler tried to retcon this but it simply won't work on me ❤️ just like anything else about the let's kill hitler flashbacks ❤️❤️❤️), OKAY DOCTOR DID I SURPRISE YOU THIS TIME? <3

number 2, i think, is the eleventh hour itself? like it's just… i've rewatched it so many times and it's still the most captivating character introduction i have ever seen. i know i'm biased but i love it so much. her introduction as a clearly neglected seven year old girl (constantly think about the deleted line that has her talking to aunt sharon and saying "you're not supposed to leave me, i'm seven!" WOOF) who's not afraid of anything except for the crack in her wall… she has drawings up all over her house of burning houses, she draws smiley faces into her apples bc her mom used to do that, she can cook for herself way better than i could at seven, and she desperately just wants to leave. but when the doctor tells her he'll be back in five minutes, amy is already so used to adults leaving her and breaking their promises that she doesn't believe him. but he makes her believe anyway. and he doesn't come back.

and all of the rest of her character hinges on that introduction — of course she has to believe him, he was REAL, nobody can take his realness away from her even if she is the only one who believes. but he also left her all alone for so long, just like everyone else who was supposed to be there for her did, so what good does that to her? so yeah of course she grows up angry and bitter and hiding those layers of hurt deeply under the surface, scorning all attachment and serious relationships because she knows she can't trust them. she outwardly distances herself from her childhood self by changing her name but she IS still just such a child inside.

she's not ready to settle, to grow up, to become what everyone in her tiny village wants her to be, thinks that she should be — so when she gets the chance to GO, of course she takes it. but she's also not just going to let the doctor off the hook for [gestures] her entire life, you know? the exchanges "people always say that" "i'm not people, do i even look like people?" | "people always have a reason" "do i look like people?" "Yes." always just GUT ME. she may trust him but it's NOT a blind trust, it can't be.

number 3 has to be the beast below it just makes me SCREAM how good that episode is at really developing amy through her compassion for other people — right from the start she sees that kid crying and she thinks the doctor must ignore stuff like this all the time, and she says that she could never do that. she's learning and intuiting leaps and bounds about the doctor with everything he says to her — which is another one of my favorite amy character traits, the way she is SO quick to pick up on things about other people and analyze them. everything that she picks up about the doctor allows her to KNOW what to do to save the star whale, allows her to be confident in the fact that the star whale wanted to help the whole time. the choice is IN HER HANDS she IS THE HERO <3 as she always should be. you couldn't just stand there and watch people cry! all that pain and misery and loneliness and it MADE IT KIND. i don't care how overused that quote is it still HITS !!!

um. number 4 is the girl who waited but my very specific headcanon-ridden interpretation and cutting out all that garbage "rory's the most beautiful man i've ever met" "defying destiny causality the nexus of time itself for a boy" bullshit. idk there's so many terrible things about this episode but it also gave me so much to think about when it comes to amy it's on my mind a LOT. one thing i think about is the way it parallels amy's first abandonment by the doctor — not just in the obvious sense but in the way that she's actively fighting for her life in a hostile atmosphere, but nobody else SEES it as a hostile atmosphere. the two streams facility is leadworth like it really is. and what adds a more chilling component is the way the handbots signature line is "do not be alarmed, this is a kindness" — like all the people who were trying to convince amy she was crazy throughout her entire childhood really thought they were doing her a kindness. they thought they were helping her. but they were killing her. because she wasn't made for that environment.

beyond that i am just obsessed with 36-years-later amy she is an icon she is a legend she is the moment i don't care! every mean thing she said about the doctor and rory was absolutely deserved and in fact she should have been so much meaner! she is SO SMART she makes her own SONIC PROBES OUT OF CAMERA PHONES the fact that she even was able to SURVIVE THAT LONG and in COMPLETE isolation and still retain her own mental faculties is just insane to me it speaks so much about her insane mental strength oh my god it makes me sooo emotional i am tearing up a little typing this right now.

i just am always THINKING about the line "there he is, the voice of god. number one lesson: survive, because no one's coming for you. you taught me that" it says SO MUCH about her. oh my god older amy didn't want to die she'll be kicking and screaming and fighting til the end… i fucking hate this show and picking and choosing when paradoxes should apply OLDER AMY DESERVED TO LIVE

number 5 is probably the power of three but my own very headcanon infused interpretation of it. because it's like. the ultimate miscommunication/misunderstanding that exists between amy and the doctor coming to a head. where amy in 7.02 is like "i can't not wait for you, even now. (…) we think you're weaning us off you" (that line always makes me slow exhale … the phrasing of the doctor as a drug) and the doctor keeps insisting that's not true, "you'll be there until the end of me" "or vice versa" (and they have that loaded held stare and you know they're both thinking about what he said to her before he left in the god complex…)

but it's not until this episode where amy starts to actually believe he means it. at the same time she's spent so much TIME preparing for the inevitable moment where the doctor says goodbye and doesn't say hello ever again that she's not willing to fully hope that the doctor really means it when he says that he would never leave her permanently on purpose. and i love that this episode gives amy a lot of space to verbally communicate her emotions because the later pond episodes SORELY LACK THAT. and amy tells him, don't be nice to me, don't stop coming around just because you think that's the kind thing to do. even though she says herself that she doesn't know if she can have "both" — she knows that she can tell the doctor to stay, in her own way, and that he'll listen.

ideally they would have just gone off traveling together forever after that and the angels take manhattan did not happen but unlike what the doctor says about amy, i don't ever get what i want 🙃

also, this episode gave amy friends that weren't rory or the doctor or river so i love it for that on principal <3 i know amy had fun being the bridesmaid at laura's lesbian wedding. and kate!!

( i do hate that this episode ends with that conversation between brian and the doctor. i hate brian as a character and i will forever. won't get into this right now but OUGH )

honestly this list is kind of wobbly and might change if you asked me in a month so i'll just rattle off other favorite episodes / moments real quickly: the good night minisode (it counts!), RIVER SONG DIDN'T GET IT ALL FROM YOU SWEETIE (timeline frozen amy my beloved!), "i remember it so it happened so i did it," vincent and the doctor specifically when vincent tells amy that he hears the song of her sadness…. ow, i could write a whole other essay about amy's choice and how it is so much more complex than people give it credit for but this post is already so goddamn long

[gryffindorcls]

Midnight Resolutions

Summary: After an accidental reveal, Marinette has been avoiding Adrien for months. Alya noticed, and with the help of their friends, she's been working hard to get Adrien and Marinette to admit their very obvious feelings for each other. Unfortunately, all their plans have ended in disaster! Now, it's almost midnight on New Year's Eve, and the class has one last plan.

Length: 2, 638 words This is my present for @toothlessthecatnoir for the ML Secret Santa Exchange by @mlsecretsanta​! You asked for fluff, romance, hurt/comfort, and a happy ending, and I hope this fits the bill! Sorry for posting this at the literal eleventh hour! lol Happy Holidays! I hope you enjoy it! (A shout-out to my super awesome beta @misscongenialityofmlb for taking a look at this!)

— AO3

Fanfiction

“You all remember the plan?” Alya stared down the group of people gathered in her living room. “Because if you have any questions, now is the time to ask.”

“Honestly, I don’t think anyone was listening just now.” Alix rolled her eyes and huffed. “We’re exhausted, and we've been at this for weeks. What makes this plan any different?”

Alya knew her friends were tired, but she had to remain resolute. If she wanted her team of helpers to finish what they’d started, she knew that she needed to be the confident and optimistic leader they needed. Besides, this was the night that all their hard work would come to fruition.

It had to be.

Right?

She took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face. “This time we’re keeping it simple. They’ll kiss for sure!”

“But that’s what you said about the winter carnival, the history project, the Secret Santa, and the mistletoe.” The jovial aura that usually surrounded Kim was noticeably missing, sending a pang of guilt through Alya’s chest. “Nothing has worked.”

Alya did her best not to cringe at the memories of their various mishaps. True, her previous plans had been a little intense, but it was worth the sacrifice. Marinette had done so much for all of them in the past, and Adrien deserved some happiness in his life. It was the least they could do for their friends.

“And let’s not forget the time we tried to lock them in that closet.” Alix’s frustration seemed to grow as she spoke. “Marinette sent Kim to the emergency room after that!”

Kim shuddered. “Don’t remind me. If I hadn’t run away, Marinette would have broken my arm for sure. I still can’t figure out how she busted down the door that fast. We were lucky that I walked away with a mild concussion instead of a cast.”

“Look, I know we’ve been at this for months, but trust me! It’s going to work this time.” Alya clenched a fist in front of her. “I just know it will.”

Removing his glasses, Nino pinched the bridge of his nose. “Babe, don’t get me wrong, it hurts to watch those two, but I don’t think we can handle another disaster. Every time we put those two together, Marinette flips.”

“Yes, but it’s not like we haven’t dealt with a jumpy Marinette in the past.” Panic began to settle in her gut as the energy in the room slowly died. “It’s just a little more than what we’re used to.”

“A little?” Nino closed his eyes and sighed. “Ms. Mendeleiev is still pissed about the fire in her lab last month, and we’re lucky that the museum isn’t making us pay for the broken windows.”

“Not to mention Juleka lost her eyebrows...twice,” Rose piped in from the back of the group. “I highly doubt she wants to lose them a third time.”

“They grew back,” Juleka mumbled, “It’s fine. Marinette and Adrien need us.”

“Yes! Thank you, Juleka! We can’t stop now!” She could hear the desperation in her own voice. “They are perfect for each other, and you know it!”

“Yes, and I want my bro to be happy. I really do.” Slumping in his seat, Nino looked defeated. “But at what cost?”

“You know as well as I do that it was even worse before we started doing all of this. Marinette wouldn’t even look at him, and Adrien walked around like a kicked puppy.” Giving up was not an option...not when they were so close.

“Yeah, I remember.” Nino collapsed onto the couch. “Adrien was so tight-lipped about the whole thing, and I thought he was going to burst into tears at any second. But this is getting dangerous, babe. You gotta admit that.”

“If only we knew what happened between them that made them act so weird around each other.” Alix chuckled. “Well...weirder than they usually are.”

“All we have to do is get them to sit on this couch together all night.” Alya couldn’t back down...not now. “No complicated schemes tonight. We just need to put the snacks in the right place so Adrien sits next to them. That boy is always hungry.”

Kim shook his head. “Okay, that’s great and all, but that only takes care of Adrien. How do you plan on getting Marinette to stay in one spot? What makes you think that she won’t leave the couch?”

“All of us are going to pair off and make it too awkward for her to join any group.” She was proud of this plan, but the hesitant looks on the faces around her planted a seed of doubt in her mind. “She’s getting here before Adrien, and I know she’ll retreat to the couch when she sees the rest of us already engaged in our own conversations.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m with Kim. That is the weakest plan I’ve ever heard.” Alix plopped onto the couch next to Nino, grabbed a pillow, shoved it against her face, and screamed. “This nightmare is never going to end!”

“No, it’s the perfect plan. Marinette is the kind of girl who is too polite to ram her way into a conversation between two people. My girl has class, and she hates being a third wheel.” Ignoring the uncertainty, Alya stood her ground. “Trust me.

“Well, I still think it’s a longshot, but it doesn’t involve fire or glass this time, so I guess I’m in.” Alix pointed her index finger toward Alya. “But this is the last time. After tonight we have to let them figure it out on their own.”

“Fine.” Once again feeling her confidence grow, Alya smiled. “But it’s going to work this time.”

“Whatever you say!” Alix said with a flippant wave of her hand.

It was going to work.

It had to.

What could possibly go wrong?

***

CRASH

With an outstretched hand, Adrien watched a punch-covered Marinette spring from the couch, run into Alya’s bedroom, and slam the door behind her. Where had he gone wrong?

It had been exactly three months, seventeen days, two hours, and twenty-eight minutes since Marinette, the love of his life, had accidentally revealed her identity to Chat Noir.

Her words from that day replayed in his head like a broken record. “I fell in love with a boy who apologized by giving me an umbrella after I thought he put gum on my seat.”

When everything clicked into place, he couldn’t not tell her who he was. At least that’s what he had thought at the time.

Perhaps pulling her into an embrace, whispering her name into her ear, and detransforming was not the best way to handle the situation, but how was he supposed to know that she would react so negatively? Not only was he her loyal partner, but he was also her crush. It seemed like a win-win! Right?

Wrong.

If he had known that she was going to avoid him for months on end, he would have done things differently. But the past was in the past, and he could only hope for a better future. Marinette was his lady, his light, his love. How was he supposed to declare his love if she kept running away?

“Follow her,” Alya whispered into his ear, pulling him away from his thoughts.

“What’s the point?” Adrien wanted to cry. “She told me that she loves me, but I’m not so sure that she does anymore.”

“Wait!” Holding up a hand, Alya had silenced the room with one word. “You’re kidding! That’s what happened? That’s why my girls been wigging out for months?”

Careful to avoid talking about the other reveal from that night, Adrien continued. “Yeah. It was a few months ago. I don’t think she meant to tell me.”

“Did you reject her or something?”

“No, not at all! I was overjoyed when I found out, but she ran away before I could respond.”

“That explains so much.”

He buried his face in his hands. “Maybe I’m scaring her off or something? I don’t know. Can you help me?”

Taking a seat next to him, Alya put a hand on his shoulder. “Would you like me to talk to her first? I can try to calm her down enough for you to talk to her.”

Hope fluttered in his chest. “That would be great. Thank you so much!”

He had the best friends.

“Wait here, Sunshine.” She hopped off of the couch and disappeared into her bedroom.

It felt like hours before Alya finally returned with the go-ahead for him to enter the room. He hopped off the couch, approached the door, and gave a tentative knock. His heart did backflips when he heard the soft “come in” from the other side of the door.

He turned the knob, slowly peeked his head in, and scanned the room. His elation was quickly replaced by concern when his eyes landed on a teary and disheveled Marinette sitting on the edge of the bed.

Despite the towel wrapped around her shoulders, she was still soaking wet with red punch. She looked miserable, and Adrien wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and tell her that everything would be alright. But he was just here to talk.

Only talking.

For now.

“Hey,” he called out, closing the door behind him.

She sniffled and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Hi.”

He was pleasantly surprised when Marinette didn’t react as he crossed the room and took a seat next to her on the bed. So far so good.

Without thinking, his words tumbled out. “Marinette, we really need to talk.”

Her head shot up, and she turned to look at him. Her bottom lip trembled, and fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked out, “I messed everything up!”

“What?” Adrien couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “How?”

“Not only did I fail as Ladybug and reveal my identity, but I made everything awkward between us!”

“But you didn’t make anything awkward! I did!”

“No, it's my fault! Not yours. I’ve turned you down for two years because I was in love with you as a civilian. I ruined everything!”

“Oh, Marinette, no. Finding out about your crush was the greatest thing that ever happened to me...well, right after learning that my lady and the coolest girl I know are the same person.”

The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He nodded. “I love you, Marinette.”

“You do?”

“I love you so much, and I’ve been trying to tell you for months. I didn’t think I could love a person more than I loved Ladybug, and then she turned out to be you, and I’ve never been so happy to have been proven wrong.”

“And all this time, I thought you were going to get mad at me.”

“Mad at you? No! Not at all!” He couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m overjoyed, but you kept running away from me, and you split up our patrol routes. I thought you were mad at me for telling you that I figured out your identity.”

“You thought I was mad at you?” She sobbed into her hands. “This really is a disaster.”

Screw it.

He was in love with her.

He couldn’t let her sit there and cry.

In one swift motion, Adrien leaned over, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her into an embrace. She momentarily stiffened before collapsing against his chest and continuing to cry.

Hoping to calm her down before any purple butterflies paid them a visit, Adrien rubbed her back with his palm. “I’m not mad. I promise. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Her voice was small and thick with tears, but they were the sweetest words he’d ever heard.

They sat in silence, allowing him to revel in the embrace. When Marinette eventually calmed down, she snuggled into his chest. It was a good thing that he wasn’t standing because if he had been, he would have definitely fallen over. She was so close and so beautiful. He could hardly contain his joy.

It was a beautiful moment that he wished could last forever...until she shivered.

Oh, right. She was covered in punch.

Here he was, enjoying the moment, letting his (hopefully) soon-to-be girlfriend freeze in wet clothes.

Refusing to let go, he rested his forehead against hers. “Hey, what do you say we get out of here?”

She shook her head. “But...it’s almost midnight, and I think Alya is expecting us to rejoin the party.”

“I think she’ll let it slide.” He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “After all, we wouldn’t want one of Paris’ heroes to get sick, right?”

Marinette giggled. “Yeah, okay.”

She was too cute.

The sound of her laughter was more beautiful than a symphony, and he would do anything to hear it again. He pulled her to her feet and laced his fingers between hers. They managed to leave the party without any qualms from their friends, and soon they found themselves standing on the sidewalk in the cold winter air.

When her teeth started chattering, his grip tightened around her hand before he quickly dragged her into an alley.

“Adrien!” she squeaked, “What are you doing?”

“Plagg, CLAWS OUT!” His transformation illuminated the space around them. “My lady, would you allow me the honor of escorting you home?”

She giggled again. “What’s gotten into you, you silly cat?”

He almost melted on the spot. She was going to kill him. Adrien was but a mere mortal. How was he supposed to survive if she kept being so freaking adorable?

“I’m taking you home the express route.” He held out his hand. “If you’ll let me, that is.”

She nodded and took a step toward him. Adrien swept her into his arms, knees nearly giving out when she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck.

All too soon, they touched down on her balcony; however, even after he lowered her feet to the ground, she didn’t let go.

Goodness, he was so in love.

“We should really get you inside,” he whispered, resting his hands on her waist. “You should put on some dry clothes.”

“Not yet.” She bit her lip as she looked up and met his gaze. “It was soaking wet when I fell in love with you, so it’s only fitting that I’m covered with punch when I do this.

He swallowed. “D-do what?”

Her hands cupped his face as she drew closer. “This.”

The world came to a screeching halt as her lips met his. Her fingers moved to the back of his head, deepening the kiss. It was everything he’d ever dreamed of and more. Her breath became his lifeline, his soul dreading the moment they had to part.

They smiled under the kiss, causing their teeth to clack and their noses to bump, but it was perfect nonetheless. This was his lady, the girl under the mask he swore he’d love no matter what.

When they pulled apart, they fell into a laughing heap on the ground. Cheers erupted around them as fireworks lit up the sky. It was as if the universe itself was celebrating with them.

“I guess that’s one way to ring in the New Year.” She turned her head towards the sky. “This year, we should definitely kiss like that every day.”

“I think that’s one resolution I can definitely keep.” He kissed her forehead. “And maybe we could even kiss more than once a day?”

“I’d like that.” She grabbed his bell and pulled him down to her level. “Let’s start now.”

Adrien was more than happy to oblige.

[kim-monsterlings]

Idella - F Demon x GN Human (Reader) // SFW

The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.

Content: SFW/Lime: allusions to sexual intimacy (lovebites, kissing, vague mentions of claws) but no NSFW descriptions, drinking alcohol, flitting from present to past in memories, wedding fluff of friends, jealousy, intimate kissing

Wordcount: 1803

“Tropemas” Summary: hiding your relationship from your marrying friends became more and more difficult, and worse when they tried to set your demon girlfriend up with someone else

Notes: IT IS LATE I’M SO SORRY - I may have queued it instead of scheduling and my queue is well into next year, I’m very sorry!

Masterlist //  “Tropemas” Masterlist

Champagne alibied many indecencies. The bubbles pardoned the grooves etched deep in your headboard from pointed antlers and excused the flushed bruises from falling kisses littered on your bare body. Hers, too, lower than yours down to her thighs, and the alibi of alcohol remedied the regret of waking to one of your oldest friends sprawled bare across you, her cloven feet tucked against yours.

Champagne excused many things, but not the breaths caught between you when six, blurred eyes blinked up from your chest. Nothing erased the sober meeting of lips or claws tracing down your cheek to lay you back, without the taste of a long night celebrating your friends’ engagement on your tongues. Impossible then to take back the light pooling onto the bed from hours resting beside her, it became more; becoming more like the courtship of your two friends had, but theirs began when you were much younger.

How Yvaine had whispered to you with her fingers crossed, sharing her deepest secret. She wanted, one day, to marry Connelly, as the selkie whispered to Idella, praying to fate, that he wished to take Yvaine as his bride.

Always the four of you, until the ending of their courtship. Until today, as the married couple swayed in the candlelit barn. Softly glowing fairy lights wove around Idella's antlers, like the silver ribbon woven into a new braid in Yvaine's thick hair by her husband.

Until today.

Yvaine and Connelly. You and Idella.

You and her.

Not new. Not for months, though they didn't know. They couldn't. Not yet. Not now, not as they invited you to join them after their first dance, when your trembling hands rose to Idella's hips in a pretence of close friends. When her hips met yours and began swaying, it nearly broke the mask.

"How do I hold you?"

"Like a friend," she whispered, long eyelashes fluttering. Warmth masqueraded her face but the edge to her words cut you deep. "We're only friends here."

And it was by your request.

Too soon. Too risky - risky, and Idella's embrace fell away that morning. If this relationship ended, the dynamic would change. The four of you would fade and it would be your fault.

Not until you were settled. Until you were sure.

"Do you see a future with me?"

Fingers with too many knuckles ran down her dark blazer. Idella's tipped ears pinned back beneath her curled hair, sharp eyes drifting beyond her shoulders in the mirror to you, where you stood daft and weak as her claws ran down the slope of her chest to the crimson bustier beneath the blazer.

"Our future," she continued. "Is it together?"

It was the same conversation uttered after the tenth, maybe eleventh night together, and then you had kissed her into forgetting, but she never looked from you now. She could not be so easily swayed, not for a second time, and the car would be here to take you to the wedding in minutes.

So, you kissed her cheek, kissing along to the point of her ear until she swallowed and cleared her throat. "I want it to be together."

"When?"

"When?"

"When will we have a future together?" When will we tell them?

Rumbling of an engine silenced outside your home, and her shoulders pushed back when you sighed, "when we're settled."

Settled, like the drawer in her bedroom wasn't settled enough. Settled like the mugs crowding your kitchen hadn't come from her - favourites, old, favoured mugs she wanted at yours. Settled, like there wasn't anything you didn't know about her.

She knew that, too.

Her kiss stung. "You tell me when we're settled, love."

Not at the wedding. Not yet.

So, you pretended to be her friend when she ran her claws down your back as you turned in small circles on the dance floor, drifting as other couples crowded around you, and the only couple not leaning closer was you.

If the flute had been a sip fuller, the temptation to lift your chin to hers would've overcome you. Forgetting everything but her was easy in her presence, like a magic deep in her pulling you closer. It wasn't magic. It was the fluttering in your stomach when her forehead rested on your shoulder and she let her lips brush your throat, slight but there all the same.

"We shouldn't," you whispered, and she hummed. Fairy lights mirroring the ones glowing at your side glittered in the rafters. "Should we?"

The absence of her when she lifted her head was too noticeable. Swaying ceased as the song quieted. "Should we?"

Your girlfriend of weeks smiled, but not at you. Not with the passing refusal on your lips, "we shouldn't," just as a flash of glinting silver and tawny brushed your side, and a wedded selkie tugged you closer in a tight hug.

Connelly's pelt hung like a cape. Blanketed around him by Yvaine during their ceremony, there was no greater vulnerability to a selkie than their pelt, and no clearer show of trust. He wore it with love as Yvaine wore her new beaded braid the same.

Though his wife strayed from his side, taking Idella's hands - from yours, from you, your dancing done, apparently - and clutching them tight.

And when Connelly rolled his eyes, your gut twisted.

"It's my wedding, so you can't refuse. On my day-"

Connelly's lips twitched. "Our day."

"We're playing cupid, Del. I'm not interrupting?"

One pause, and Idella's jaw ticked. One word would put an end to this, but it couldn't rise past the lump in your throat, and it nearly suffocated you when the demon's eyes flared.

"Nothing to interrupt."

Dark eyes never turned back as your girlfriend left you alone. They never looked from the orc Yvaine introduced her to, and when her laugh warmed the barn, you swayed.

That laugh echoed from early mornings. The same warmth etched into your headboard warmed the sharp contours of her face. Even the fairy lights haloed her like the rays from her third floor apartment, when she forgot to close the blinds before leading you to her mattress.

Settled.

Champagne couldn't excuse the tremor in your fingers the longer she entertained the matchmaking. Not even sharing a drink with Connelly eased your nerves when a cloven foot inched nearer the stranger, and Idella nearly shared the air she breathed with them.

Too close, but you didn't have a right to intervene.

"Yvaine wants to play cupid with you. She said orc or selkie." Connelly knocked his flute to yours - a good luck, and looked across the barn. On his wife's homeland, a large space, and even larger with how you far you felt from the demon biting her lip as she listened to whatever riveting small talk the orc made. "They look good together."

The vice tightened. "They do?"

"You would look good, too."

Beside a demon, you doubted that. Beside Idella - slender and strong, sharpened like a blade with teeth sharp enough to prove it - you doubted you would look anything more than an accessory, but the ache planted by Yvaine ebbed.

Connelly placed down his empty flute and found his wife eating cake across the room. His chest rose on a deep breath and he grinned. "Happy, I mean. Go and be happy. It's my- our, wedding," he teased, but your ears were ringing. "That's an order."

Maybe you hadn't been watching close enough.

Not a second from turning down the hall did a glowing shadow stalk you. Down out of sight where you waited, an apology breaking silence.

"Now," you said. "We're settled."

Idella braced against the wall by her shoulder. "Oh?"

"Our future starts now."

The demon of edges and venom melted beneath you. Her kisses scorched deep, far deeper than she ought to have after so little time. Claws tugged through meticulously styled hair down to your nape, where she tugged you closer.

You blamed the bustier for your lips running down her dark, freckled skin, soft kisses placed where her chest rose.

Thighs slid apart. Idella whimpered against you and ran a hand down to your hip. "Settled?"

"Settled," you said in a kiss, and her lips parted like her thighs, one risen to your side. She knew how to weaken you as you did her; her taste was sweet, not like the bubbles on your lips, but she lifted her chest and arched against you all the same.

Before biting your lip sharp. "Someone's coming. Someone-"

"Ow," you hissed, and she nipped you again. "Let them see."

"You… you're drunk."

"Del, I'm not drunk. Clearly," you breathed, meeting her hips with yours and stifling a moan. "I'm jealous."

Her cheeks hollowed when you refused to lean back. The way you held her before as a friend fled, and you ran over the curve of her back down to the rounding of her ass, her thighs, touching her everywhere and anywhere to have her closer. "Not when you've been drinking, love."

Idella caught your hair and tugged, lips flushed but rambling. One shove and a distance parted you, but at her hands, not Yvaine's.

Yvaine's eyebrows rose. "I thought I'd interrupted before, but-"

"This isn't what it looks like."

No edge, no venom, but your heart fell. Idella's words never shook like yours would with a lie. Her only betrayal was the colour; on her lips, darkened, swollen, a rise to her cheek and chest. Colour flushing your face, too.

Colour in her lies. "We're not-"

"Aren't we?"

Weeks ago, she woke you with tea in her favourite mug, and told you - told you, with a sly smile, "I'm your girlfriend now, love. Is that okay with you?"

It was only right that it was your turn to make it publicly exclusive, reaching out for her clenched fist, but a deeper voice spoke over you and echoed down the hall. The same voice belonging to the fourth, missing piece.

"Twenty pound when you're ready, my dearest bride."

Yvaine bristled. "Del just said they're not dating, so-"

"Look at them," Connelly scoffed. His arms came around his scowling bride and he nuzzled his cheek to hers, against her golden banded tusks. "You interrupted as much as you did earlier. I told you playing cupid would be too much. I won. Twenty pounds."

Neither noticed Idella slipping her fingers through yours. The lingering questions in your mind fell away - how long had they been betting on you? Did they always know? - and your embrace mimicked theirs.

"I'm sorry, love. You wanted longer."

"Sorry?" Idella's forehead touched yours. Arms wrapping the other close, with the - implied, at least - approval of your closest friends, you only held her tighter. "I couldn't be happier."