#perhaps look at the entire situation where he clearly did not want to even be present at the press panel

[sxfterhearts]

backstage visits

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ idol!jiung x non-idol!reader ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

♡ genre/warnings: fluff semi-inspired by love story, p1h (aka my fav p1h song!!) and a mini-continuation of neighbourly visits (but can be read as a standalone!)

♡ word count: 2,469 words

♡ summary: jiung's been acting weird and distant all week. but everything changes when you receive an mcountdown backstage pass in the mail...

♡ author’s note: hey guys! i've been thinking about this one for awhile. perhaps i should make it into a mini-series? pls let me know what you think (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

//

“She’s here, Jiung.”

“What?” Jiung gasped in shock. Turning to Jongseob, he asked urgently with firm hands grasping on his friends’ shoulders, “Where is she?”

“Dressing room 3, the one with the stage costumes.”

Jiung was about to run off, but turned around to quickly express his gratitude. “Thanks, man.”

Jongseob nodded with an understanding smile. “Don’t mess it up this time.”

Jiung shot him a nervous smile before disappearing into a blur of orange and white amongst the backstage hallways.

You were sitting on the couch in the middle of the quiet dressing room, eyes darting around nervously. You crossed, then uncrossed your legs a few times, uncertain.

You felt out of place. You’ve never attended a music show screening before, let alone been inside the building where the recordings took place. You were usually a self-assured, confident person, but striking, glittery costumes of all shapes, sizes and colours surrounded you, and you couldn’t help but to look down at your own clothes – just a normal t-shirt and jeans. Plain, like the rest of you.

Which is one of the reasons, if not the main reason, why you were so nervous right now. In the past few weeks since you visited Jiung in the hospital, you had undoubtedly gotten closer to your former-childhood neighbour-turned-popular K-Pop idol. You went over to their dorms a bunch of times to drop off food and side dishes that your mother sent for him, and took him out on gentle walks around the outskirts of Seoul. You even accompanied him and his mother for dinner when she came to visit him last weekend. 

But it was… for the lack of better words, getting a little bit confusing for you. On one hand, you knew that you two were clearly not together. Yet, on the other hand, it seemed to you like you were more than just friends. Which begs the question, what were you to him, exactly?

The past week since his mother’s visit had been odd. You understood that, as an idol, his schedule was hectic and unpredictable. However, when before he used to answer you within the hour, he started leaving more and more of your messages on read. It felt like you were talking to a wall. And the one time you did meet up for ice cream in the middle of the night after his dance practice, you could tell that his mind was elsewhere. It felt like he wasn’t even really there, and like he didn’t want to hang out with you, but was forced to.

That was on Wednesday. After gobbling up your ice cream, you made some stupid excuse about having to double-check something for work and left earlier than you anticipated. You initially thought that the two of you would take a stroll around the Han River, but given his state, you decided to just leave without another word.

Which was why, when you came home on Friday after work and found a ticket and backstage pass for MCountdown in your mailbox, you were stunned. You quickly searched up the show’s lineup, and sure enough, P1Harmony were performing on Sunday night. You weren’t entirely sure what it meant, and whether or not it was even a good idea to show up, but after talking to a few close friends about it, you made the decision to go. After all, what’s the worst that could happen, right? 

Which brings you to the current situation – phone lying idly by your side, teeth gnawing at your lips, and fingers fidgeting with the ends of a sequin dress hanging beside you. Why did he invite you here? Your mind began to spiral in the empty space, where only muffled instrumentals could be heard from the faraway performance stage. You felt like you were always lingering around the peripherals of Jiung’s life, never floating in the same orbit, let alone galaxy, as him. Because let’s be honest, until a few weeks ago when he let you slip in by the backdoor of his life, him, and his voice, were merely something you could only savour from behind a wall, or behind a screen. 

Was it, perhaps… Did he call me here to end it?

The door burst wide open at that moment, revealing a very out-of-breath, yet impeccably dressed and styled Jiung. 

Figures, you thought, as you scanned the boy in front of you from head to toe and rose to your feet. He had a blue knitted shawl thrown over a white long sleeve, and… what were those? Hand warmers? You never really understood fashion anyways.

Jiung took a few seconds to catch his breath and compose himself, not daring to meet your eyes lest they betray him for even a second. When he was rushing to see you before the performance, heck, even when he slipped the backstage passes into your mailbox, truthfully, he wasn’t really thinking. 

See, Jiung was new to this whole… feelings thing. He never used to acknowledge them, let alone think about, process, or talk about them to another person. Growing up, he learned that bottling things up was the quickest and most efficient way to deal with difficult emotions, and that it was the best way to ensure he got back into work. But for some reason, after you reappeared in his life, he started to realise that his default coping mechanisms weren’t that foolproof after all.

And now, he wants to take a big step towards working on this flaw of his. If he could just work up the nerve to look you in the eye…

You cleared your throat, somewhat uncomfortably.

His head shot up in alarm, like a deer caught in headlights. With wide eyes, he stared at you. You stared back at him. Both of you tried to remain expressionless, unsure of what the other was thinking. Both of you had so much to say, but neither had the guts to break the silence.

“I’m sorry I was an ass –”

“Do you hate me –?”

The two of you spoke in unison, overlapping voices filling the dressing room.

Jiung closed his eyes and took a deep breath upon hearing your words. “What I wanted to say was,” A heavy exhale. “I’m sorry. I was being an ass. And no, I don’t hate you.” He chuckled humorlessly. “In fact, it’s quite the opposite.” He muttered, more to himself than anything.

But you heard him. “Yeah,” You laughed softly, nodding. “Yeah, you kinda were an ass.”

“It’s just…” He was looking down at the ground, but his body unconsciously moved closer and closer, towards you, like there was a gravitational pull towards your entire being. “It’s… I didn’t know what to do.”

“About what?” You found yourself moving forward voluntarily, taking baby steps towards him.

“About…” He waved his hands in the air. “About all this. About us…”

Your face fell. You took a step back. “Oh.” You exhaled, feeling your heart sink into a bottomless chasm.

“It’s hard for me, you know? It’s confusing. I got confused.”

Your lips start to tremble. At first, you were so sure that nothing could be worse than absolute radio silence from Jiung. Turns out, this was worse, much worse. Actually hearing his voice utter these words to you were like daggers aimed at your poor soul. “Yeah, you know what? I should probably go.” You just wanted to get out as quickly as possible, and started to make a beeline for the door, but –

“Wait! Listen, please,” He pleaded, finally looking up at you just as you were about to walk past him and out of his life, again. He couldn’t let that happen. “Can you just… Hug me? Please? If that’s okay with you…”

You had so many questions swimming around in your mind but you chose to not think and just did as he said. “But you hate hugs,” You whispered, as your arms came around his waist and his wrapped around your shoulders. 

“Yeah, but, not really. I get less distracted this way.” Jiung muttered in response, and you could feel his chest vibrate against yours. It almost made you feel warm, almost. “Cos I have something important to tell you.” And the sinking feeling returned once more.

You hummed, indicating that you were listening and encouraging him to go on – even though a part of yourself knew what was coming and didn’t want this, whatever it was, to end.

“Y/N, you know me. You’ve known me for a long time. You know me, even before all of this. So trust me when I say, it is hard to deal with my feelings and my emotions. Like you said that time in the hospital, I am not good at dealing with these things. And it’s true, I do bottle them up. But…” He thought for a second, before continuing. “The reason I do it is because it was something that was modelled to me when I was younger, and it was all I knew, and that was how I coped. I avoid things – people, situations, messages, and I run away.”

You nodded. “I know.”

“The past few weeks have been really, really good. I really enjoyed it – all of it. The walks, the food we shared, and just, the time we spent together. I will cherish those memories forever. But…”

You gulped.

“But last weekend, when my mum saw me and asked me about it, I got scared. I don’t know why. She told me that it looked like I got my spark back again, like I was smiling how I used to before. And she asked, whether it was because of you, and what we were. And truthfully, I didn’t know how to answer her, because technically, we weren’t anything.”

You tried to struggle out of his grip at this point because it was too much. Listening to him was too much. But he only held you firmer; wrapped his arms around you a little tighter.

“And then I realised, I never really stop and think about these things. All my life, I just let all my feelings, the good, the bad, and everything in between – I just let them wash over me. And I never really process them, but I never really let them go either. And it wasn’t until the other day when I was walking along the river and I passed the fried chicken place that it hit me. Do you know what I was thinking about when I saw it?”

“What?” You grumbled into his shirt, feeling partially drained from the heavy emotions and anxiousness.

“I wasn’t even thinking about the chicken, or eating the chicken, or having the beer with the chicken. Or how good the rice cakes would taste. I thought, wow, wouldn’t it be perfect, if you were here with me, and we had chicken for supper together?”

“Hmm?” You were confused.

Jiung laughed. “God, I’m so bad at this. What I’m trying to say is,” He loosened his grip so he could face you, eye to eye this time, whilst still holding your body close to his. “It hit me then. I used to go about my life, thinking just about me, or my work, what I want to eat, or what I want to do. And ever since you came into my life, now, all I can think about is you. Everything reminds me of you. The chicken, the walks, a nice park, a good song I heard, a shirt that I saw… I see it, and I think – what would Y/N think of this? What would Y/N prefer? That’s what I want to know. And that’s what scared me. Because not only was it my feelings, but it was also you – your feelings and thoughts were outside of my control because… I can’t read your mind, and because it was heavily implied that if I ever broke your heart I would not be allowed back into my mother’s house, and, and…”

“And?” You asked gently, with a soft, encouraging smile painted on your lips. You understood, now.

“And it’s scary. Feelings are scary. They’re big, and they’re scary. But I want to be brave now, because I want to learn how to deal with them properly, and because I want to own up to them so I can treat you right.”

The pause brought about a silence which allowed his words to sink in. 

“Because,” Jiung pulled you impossibly close. You could feel his warm breath against your cheeks, and his thundering heart against his ribcage, mirroring yours. “Because in case it wasn’t super obvious, I really, really like you.” He said, letting out a shaky breath, lips turning upwards in a nervous smile.

You bit your bottom lip and giggled silently, meeting his vulnerable eyes with your cheeky crescent moons. 

“Why…” Jiung paused. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

You laughed in response, pulling slightly away from him but still firmly holding on. 

“What… Why?”

You shook your head before bursting into another fit of giggles. “You started it! You gave me the silent treatment. I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine.”

“I… What? Y/N?”

You couldn’t help smiling at his shocked expression, staring at you in disbelief as the cogs in his brain turned ever so slowly. “Oh my god, Jiung, just shut up and kiss me already.”

“I –”

His eyes grew as wide as saucers as you pulled him by the collar, down to your height. Any words he had died in his mouth as your lips finally touched. His brain short circuited for a few seconds, trying and failing to register how soft your plump pillows felt against his, and the subtle sweetness of your strawberry lipbalm, and oh, oh, your tongue, and your hands threading through his orange hair (his stylist was going to give him an earful later), and oh – they’re moving down –

“Jiung!” A voice yelled from the other side of the door. “Ten minutes!”

“Shit,” He mumbled as you began to nibble on his bottom lip in fervour. Jiung let out a pained groan. “Y/N, Y/N, I have to… I have to go, I…”

“Hmm?” You pulled away, but not without a loud smooch and a thin string of saliva connecting both of your lips. You batted your eyelashes up at him, giving him the sweetest smile you could muster. 

“Five minutes.” Jiung looked at you sternly, but his wide smile betrayed him. “Five minutes, that’s all we get.”

“Plenty of time.” You reassured him before lacing your fingers with his and getting cosy on the couch. 

Needless to say, the stylists had their work cut out for them before he had to race on stage.

[baldursgat3]

so like a week ago I saw a post I can't find again about the idea of like an elf Tav who had grown up with Astarion before Cazador

so here's 4.5k words of that

lightly nsfw but the pants stay on (except in my half finished drafts that I gave up on)

A hog ran out of the bushes and you felt a blade against your neck as the man bodied you to the ground. He hovered over you, dagger pressed to your throat as he leaned in close with a soft smile. "Not another sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours." This was the first time you really managed to get a good look at him. Still, it took you a moment to recognize him. He looked so much older than you remembered and his eyes were blood red. "Astarion?" He was clearly not expecting that. His eyes widened in confusion and panic before he pressed the dagger firmer against your neck, the tip drawing a prick of blood. "How in the hells do you know that?" He hissed. "Who are you?

You stumbled along the beach away from the illithid ship. Your head was pounding and you just wanted to lay down but this was not nearly the time or place. You had to get away from the crash site and, preferably, find a few other survivors to watch your back. The cleric you picked up was fine and all, but you didn't entirely trust her. You were certain you'd need more help than that anyway.

Corpses littered the surrounding area, of humans and mind flayers alike. Not much survived the falling, flaming debris. It wasn't hard to make out a voice over the crackling fires.

You jogged towards the voice, quickly spotting it's owner. A slender elf with white curls that were surprisingly neat for surviving the nautiloid wreck. "Quick! I've got one of those brain things cornered."

That voice was… familiar? Still, you couldn't quite place it and it didn't really matter. If you helped him kill the thing, perhaps you could convince him to join you.

You followed where he was pointing, sword in hand. Really, you should've known better. Or perhaps Shadowheart could've been quicker to alert you?

A hog ran out of the bushes and you felt a blade against your neck as the man bodied you to the ground. He hovered over you, dagger pressed to your throat as he leaned in close with a soft smile. "Not another sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours."

This was the first time you really managed to get a good look at him. Still, it took you a moment to recognize him. He looked so much older than you remembered and his eyes were blood red. "Astarion?"

He was clearly not expecting that. His eyes widened in confusion and panic before he pressed the dagger firmer against your neck, the tip drawing a prick of blood. "How in the hells do you know that?" He hissed. "Who are you?

"You- you died…?" It didn't make sense. You saw them bury his body and everything.

His eyes flicked back and forth, studying your face. You wouldn't be upset if he didn't recognize you, but you weren't exactly sure how you would talk your way out of this in that case.

Fortunately, you wouldn't have to find out. You saw the moment it hit him as he jerked his dagger away from your neck, scrambling to get off of you. "It… can't be. Of all the people… you." He laughed bitterly, stowing the dagger.

Honestly, you weren't exactly sure how to respond to this situation. You couldn't even tell if he was happy to see you or not. So you decided to press on the most concerning issue still. "You died. I went to your funeral, Astarion. What… happened to you?"

You were nearly the same age, you'd grown up together in his family's estate. Your parents were hired hands and you served as a live-in friend for their reclusive son. He was only a few months older than you, so why did he look so much older? So much paler, more exhausted than someone your age ought to be.

On top of it he still looked fucking fantastic. Gods you hated how effortlessly beautiful he was.

His gaze darted between you and Shadowheart, anxiously weighing his options. "Ah, yes, well. You know how it goes, surrounded by adoration and opulence. It all gets to be too much, you fake your death, you flee the country. Standard business really."

That definitely wasn't the truth but clearly he wasn't about to share it in front of Shadowheart. It hurt, finding him like this, though. You were so close as children. It had gotten a little harder as you grew up but you always kept in contact. But he let you think he was dead for 200 years anyway? "Right. Of course. Well. Care to join us?"

~*~*~

It's not like you were still in mourning or anything. He had been a good friend for so long, at times even your best friend, but two hundred years was enough time for you to move on.

You had thought about him from time to time. Fondly remembering stories from your past that would turn into a quiet sadness for the life that was taken from him.

They never had an answer for what had happened to him. He had been murdered, you knew that much. No one ever said how or why, though. Magistrate's weren't exactly beloved and his family held a high enough title there was always the vague threat of assassinations but Astarion seemed like such a strange target.

It was compounded by the fact that nothing ever came of it. No one was ever caught, no political move was made on his grieving family. You would think maybe he'd been jumped, but nothing had been taken from him. Honestly, you never expected to get an answer. Certainly not from the dead man himself.

The two of you were sat in his tent, it had been a few days but what a wild few days they were. Tomorrow you would set out to level the goblin camp but tonight you were going to talk.

"I'm sorry." He started. It kind of surprised you, really. You had been learning over the past few days that the man you had once known was all but gone. The Astarion in front of you now was always bitter and irritated with half the things you did.

"Astarion I swear to Kelemvor, it is not naïve to rescue a twelve year old from a crazy lady with a snake for 'no reason.' The reason is rescuing the twelve year old from a snake."

"Where did you go? What happened to you?" The apology was nice but really, you just wanted answers. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He sighed, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. His eyes were fixed on the ground between the two of you and he looked so… sad. "I thought about it, about finding you. At first and, only for a moment."

Well that didn't really clear anything up, all right. You kept quiet though, you were smart enough to know when not to push.

"You want the truth? I was captured. Kidnapped by an evil man who turned me into a monster and forced me to do his bidding. I couldn't have told you. I- I didn't want to get anywhere near you. Not like this." 

A picture was beginning to come into focus. Honestly, there had been enough pieces that you had already begun to wonder. "You're a vampire."

"A spawn, yes." He practically spat the word out, scowling at the ground. "He turned me into his little pet. I was to go out and catch him the most beautiful souls I could find for him to feast on. All the while I was starved and tortured just for his amusement."

"Astarion…"

"I don't want your pity. I mean - I do, sort of but- ugh…" He rolled his eyes, leaning back. "You've made this all extremely complicated."

"Why didn't you ever try to find me? I would've helped, I could've tried to get you out of there."

"I… well I couldn't." He glanced up at you, a sad smile crossing his lips. "You would've tried, certainly. And I would've watched him kill you as punishment I'm sure. No, it's quite all right." He waved a hand dismissively, as a perfect, easy grin spread across his face.

You couldn't exactly argue. It's not like you had any idea what you would've been up against. Still, your blood boiled at the very idea of what he must've gone through in your centuries apart. "Well, you're safe right now, anyway."

His face softened at your words, seeming to relax into the very idea of your protection. "I am, aren't I? How strange." His head cocked to the side, an almost calculating look crossing his face. "Would you… care to stay the night?"

~*~*~

You had always had a sort of off and on crush on Astarion, growing up. When you were very small he had told your parents that the two of you were already married, obviously.

As you got older, you had been sidelined pretty hard as the best friend and you took it with grace. You had plenty of other people who caught your eye and it was nice to always have someone you trusted to be there.

There was that one time that he had drunkenly wept into your arms about being the only person he would ever truly love. It would've meant more had he not just gotten his heart broken hours prior, but it did rekindle an old spark in your heart for a solid year.

The two of you had drifted apart as your social circles moved in opposite directions. You never connected with the upper class, he wouldn't be seen with the rabble. You always kept in touch but, by the time he was murdered captured, you were struggling to keep up with your monthly nights out at the Elfsong.

Right now, though, in this moment? You felt as though you couldn't possibly be closer to another person if you'd wished for it.

Astarion had practically crawled on top of you in his effort to kiss you. One of his hands was tangled in your hair while the other rested firmly against the small of your back. He was colder than you were used to but that wasn't unwelcome. Instead it just sent shivers through your entire body with every touch.

You slowly lowered yourself down to your elbows as he leaned further into you, chasing this kiss like he needed it to survive. The hand in your hair held you firmly against him, not that you had any intention of going anywhere.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, pulling a pitiful little noise out of your throat. He let out a small breath of a laugh as his fingers began to slowly tug your shirt out of your pants. Every move was so delicate and effortless on his part. Gods he was flawless.

He freed your shirt from the prison that was your waistband, pulling back just far enough to whisper a soft "May I?" against your lips.

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face as you blinked up at him. "Only if you return the favor."

"Gladly." A devilish smile crossed his lips as he pulled back, taking your top with him. A moment later, he had his own pulled over his head and both were recklessly discarded.

One of his hands found it's way to your back again. You couldn't help the way you jumped as his icy fingers made contact with your bare skin. His other hand came up to cup your jaw, ever so gently applying just a bit of pressure. Just enough to encourage you to lay back underneath him as he pressed your lips together again.

You went so easily, he was so gentle and sweet and he tasted like vanilla and ever so slightly like copper. He was intoxicating.

Once he had you on your back, his hands began to wander. They trailed ever so delicately over your chest, lighting a fire inside of you as they went. Your own hands were so much more inexperienced. One helplessly pressed flat against his back, the other unwilling to pull away from his curls for even a moment.

He didn't seem to be bothered by how little you were really helping. His hands continued tenderly mapping your body as his kisses began to trail away from your mouth, along your jawline.

You let out a small gasp as his kiss trailed down to your neck and you felt him pull back, just a bit, just enough to look at you. "Now… it is just a thought… it's just that, well, some people are into biting."

"Are you asking if you can drink my blood?"

"Well, only if the answer is yes."

You gently brushed your hand through his mess of curls as you pondered this. "What would it… do?"

"To you? Not much. A bit of dizziness perhaps, nothing out of the ordinary for some good old fashioned blood loss. But for me? I've been living off rats and wild boar for decades. Just a sip from someone as decadent as yourself could probably give me the power of the sun."

You couldn't help but laugh at the blatant flirting, but damn if it wasn't working. "Maybe a bit exaggerated," he continued "But it would make me feel stronger. I could fight better, think clearer. You don't have to-"

"Go for it."

"Oh. Shit really? I still had a whole monologue about not feeling pressured."

"Getting less sexy by the second, Ancunín."

"Gods, shut up." He rolled his eyes, pressing his lips back to yours as you giggled.

You could feel his anticipation now, though. He kissed you just long enough to push you back into the right headspace before his attention turned back to your neck.

He lingered there longer than you expected, tenderly covering you with his kisses. Then, without warning, he pulled back and his gentle lips were replaced by an acute sting as his fangs sunk into one of your veins.

It was a unique feeling, you could say that. You'd been stabbed before but this was different. It was cold. Like the first snow of winter, dark and freezing but glittering like crystals in the moonlight. You heard yourself gasp and felt your body arch up into him as your head tipped back for him.

You could've easily lost yourself in the feeling, just basking in this closeness you had with someone who was so dear to you. You had just enough awareness to feel the dizzy, light headed bliss start to tip towards darkness.

Your grip on his hair tightened, gently trying to tug him back before he got carried away. "Astarion…"

He only let out a gentle moan before seeming to catch himself, quickly pulling away with a small gasp. "Gods…" he wiped away the small trickle of your blood that had escaped his lips, licking it from his fingers as you stared up at him, slack jawed.

"I couldn't have wished for a finer vintage." He crooned as he ducked his head back down to clean the blood from your neck.

Gods, he had your heart about bursting out of your chest. His hands started to wander again as his mouth continued it's assault on your neck. Every touch was so careful and perfect, each one sending sparks flying through you.

He cupped one hand around your neck, gently applying a bit of pressure to stop the bleeding as his mouth moved back to yours. "You're gorgeous, you know? I've always thought so."

You were obsessed already. He was intoxicating, the way his touch felt against your skin, the way his honey sweet words pierced your heart. There was an old version of you that had dreamed of just having him like this.

Here you were, pampered and loved by a man you had adored for so long. Gods, you really never thought you would ever see him again, let alone have his hand down your pants like this. In this moment, the world was nearly perfect. The only thing that mattered to you now was making this boy yours.

~*~*~

You woke up in the morning, a bit sore, a bit disoriented, and very alone. It took a moment to remember why you were in a strange tent. Another moment for you to realize Astarion was gone. You couldn't help the disappointment that bloomed in your chest at that thought. You couldn't blame him, exactly. It's not like the two of you were a thing. Still, it would've been nice to wake up beside him.

You sighed softly, quietly getting dressed in the still morning chill. It felt like early morning, the golden light filtering into the tent and lack of noise from your companions clued you in. Maybe Astarion had run off to feed before the rest of the camp woke up. Maybe he'd hoped to be back before you had gotten up?

No such luck. You pushed open the tent flap to find your vampire quietly staring at the dim embers of your campfire. You had to bite back another sigh as you stepped forward, apparently making enough noise to draw his attention.

His neck whipped around, though he relaxed instantly once he located the source of the sound he'd heard. "You're up early." He said, quietly, turning back to the fire.

"I could say the same."

"I'm always the first one awake." You could hear the eye roll in his voice.

You stepped forward, moving to sit beside him with a small, awkward smile. "And you just had to get away from me?" Don't freak him out, play it cool. You weren't disappointed at all.

He didn't seem to find it funny, though. He just drew his knees up closer to his chest. "I told you. You made things… complicated."

That was weird. Honestly, you had no idea what he meant. "I'm sorry?"

"Not your fault." His voice was flat and unreadable. He'd really changed so much since you last saw him. It made sense but that didn't stop it from hurting.

You missed the man you used to know. Snarky and a bit full of himself. But also shy and awkward and comforting. You recognized many of his old mannerisms but they'd changed. He was bitter, focused on how to protect himself above all else. It made him violent and trigger happy in a way you weren't used to. Quite frankly, it was a little scary sometimes, the amount of joy he took in violence.

"Can I help?" It was all you had really. You couldn't change what had happened to him. All you could do now was try to help.

"Can you help? Sure. If you could just… go back in time, stop yourself from finding me after the nautiloid and let me carry on my merry way, presumably to be murdered by the first person I annoy too much."

"Okay, well, I'm not sure I can do that." You couldn't read him, no matter how hard you tried. "Did I… do something wrong?"

"No, gods, no." He curled up tighter. He looked so… vulnerable. He never did vulnerable. Especially not now. "You're perfect. That's the problem. You made it complicated."

"Astarion, I don't understand."

He sighed, finally turning his head to throw you a small, tired look. "I know. Hells…" You could see the confliction writing itself across his face. "I want to tell you something but you have to swear that you won't hate me for it, I mean it. It's not good, but you cannot hate me."

"I've never hated you, Star." Maybe the nickname was a bad idea. You practically saw it stab him directly through the chest, forcing him to turn away for a moment to collect himself.

He couldn't look you in the eye again, he just stared off to the distance in any other direction. "I know. I mean it though, promise me, please."

"All right." What could he possibly tell you that was worse than 'I spent two hundred years forced to kidnap people to be killed by my master.' "I promise. I won't hate you, no matter what."

You saw him relax a bit, his shoulders loosening. He turned back, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of his eye. "I… Last night, that- it…" It was so rare that he struggled to find his words.

He took another breath, trying to collect himself before turning back to the fire. "I was just… using you. I wish I could say I didn't mean to but- gods, I did. I pushed it that way on purpose. Its all… part of the plan, you know? Seduce you, sleep with you, secure my safety and position in the group with you. It was… easy."

Oh. Well that wasn't exactly great to hear. He was still trying to collect himself, find the right words. You didn't want to interrupt and, honestly, you didn't really know what to say.

"I didn't think about it, I just… did it. Like I had to. I needed to. And by the time my head caught up it was too late. You were already into it, I couldn't just stop."

"What?"

"I mean," He continued quickly, seemingly trying to get ahead of your presumed anger. "It's not like it wasn't good, it's not like I don't… care about you. It's just, it was an instinct. I think."

"Astarion-"

"Please, you have to understand-"

"No, no, stop. Hold on." You saw the panic in his eyes as you interrupted. "Astarion did you not… want to do that?"

The look he gave you was, honestly, almost a little pitiful. "Like I said, you've made this complicated. I don't know. I don't know what I want."

You turned your attention away from him, towards the dying fire in front of you, pausing for a moment to collect your thoughts. "I wish you hadn't done that to yourself." He was right. This was complicated.

He wasn't the same person you had grown up with. Whatever had been done to him had clearly changed him fundamentally as a person.

But, still, you couldn't look at him without seeing your old friend. It was still the same laugh you had known. Still the same smile. You saw it, when you agreed to help the tieflings, the way he cocked his hip out and rolled his eyes. His little mannerisms that still lingered after all this time. He might not be the same man you had known, but you loved him anyway.

"I don't know what happened to you," you continued before he could get defensive. "I don't know what made you feel like you had to go to such extremes just to win affections you've had since we were children."

You saw some kind of spark in his eyes. It was so difficult to read him now, you wanted to get better at that. "I'm… sorry." He sounded so unsure. Honestly, you didn't care for it, he was always so confident. Now, though, he just looked… sad, maybe?

"You don't have to apologize. Astarion," You carefully reached a hand out to cover one of his. "The first thing you did when you saw me was put a dagger to my throat, and I still would've tossed Shadowheart into the ocean if you'd asked me to."

That pulled a startled laugh out of him that you briefly worried might've woken up your companions. Gods you really would do just about anything to see him smile. "You would not have. You're too much of a goody two shoes."

"Maybe." You grinned, giving his hand the smallest squeeze. "Still. I'm just sorry you felt like you had to go that far for my affection."

"I'm not the man you used to know, I'm not blind. I don't know who he was anymore. Up till now, I think I'd forgotten my own parents' faces. But you look at me like you expect me to be him and I don't know how. I can't be what you expect, at least if I could keep your bed warm you'd have reason to keep me around."

"Astarion…" Your hand tightened around his as you scooted just a bit closer. "I was sitting in the Elfsong, a long time ago. At 'our' table, you know? I was waiting for you to meet me and I grabbed a day old copy of the Gazette to read while I waited.

"I didn't even notice at first. There was a headline for one of the articles, 'Magistrate Murdered', but I didn't notice until I got closer to it. I saw your name and it was like the roof caved in over me. I was sitting there, waiting for you to show up, and a shitty, ale stained piece of parchment told me you never would."

You looked up at him with a sad smile before continuing quickly, trying to stay ahead of the guilt you were sure was creeping up in him. "I cried for months over you. And for years after when something reminded me too much of you. Star, neither of us are the same person we left behind, it's been two hundred years. I've been through plenty, and you've been through hell. That's not what matters though."

He looked so small right now. He was nervous and upset and vulnerable. You hated it, you didn't want him to be so anxious with you, gods you wanted him to trust you. "What matters is right now. We're here together. That's so much more than I ever could've dreamed just a month ago. You don't have to earn my trust and love again. And you certain don't have to force yourself to have sex with me to do it. I never stopped loving you, Astarion."

He was still for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face, scanning you for ill intent. You watched him cycle through a dozen emotions as he processed what you were saying. Then, almost like a switch flipped, he just melted.

With a choked out sob, he collapsed into you. You wrapped your arms around him as he curled into a ball, practically in your lap. His whole body shook as he quietly cried into your chest. You really did hate seeing him cry but you could feel the tension lifting from his shoulders as you held him tight.

You let a silent prayer fly to whichever god was keeping your friends asleep through this, asking them to keep up the good work. The last thing he needed right now was everyone else seeing him like this, you knew how much he wanted to keep up appearances.

Ever so gently, you lifted a hand to card your fingers through his curls. He curled up just a bit tighter, leaned into you just a bit more. It had been so, so long since the two of you had been this close. You really, truly never wanted it to end.

Eventually, though, he pulled back with an awkward laugh and a hasty scrub of his face. He didn't go far, just enough to sit back and look at you. "Gods… well. That was sexy."

You rolled your eyes, throwing him a soft grin. "You're ridiculous, Star. Come on, everyone'll be up soon. Big day, you know? Let's go kill some fucking goblins."

[antianakin]

@theneutralmime

I think it's a little bit more complicated than this, actually, especially in ROTS.

At the beginning, sure, the Jedi trust him just fine. But the moment Anakin decides to take Palpatine's nepotistic offer to place him on the Council behind the Council's backs and without their approval, specifically so he can be Palpatine's "eyes and ears" on the Council, and then throws a temper tantrum about them not making him a Master to assert what little agency they've been left in this situation, Anakin loses some of their trust in him. And justifiably so, in my opinion.

They ask him to spy on Palpatine, at least in part, AS A TEST to see where Anakin's loyalties actually lie, whether it's with Palpatine or with the Jedi. I think they WANT to trust him and they give him this task in part also because there isn't anybody else who COULD get them this information, but Anakin has now made a choice that looks really suspicious, especially given that we know the Jedi Council at this point see Palpatine as power hungry and corrupt to the point that they're literally planning treason against him soon. Anakin being Palpatine's personal plant on the Council DOES NOT LOOK GOOD for Anakin. Especially since Anakin doesn't come to it like, "I know this isn't how this is meant to be done, and I haven't earned this position, and he shouldn't be doing this, but none of us are being given much of a choice in this and perhaps this way I can be something of a double agent in the Council's relationship with Palpatine." There's NO recognition of how wrong Palpatine is for taking advantage of his power this way, NO recognition of how Palpatine is clearly using him to spy on the Council or indignation and anger at that even if he did, NO humility and modesty on Anakin's part.

So when, a couple of scenes later, Mace Windu literally says "I don't trust him" when speaking to Obi-Wan and Yoda about Anakin and his assignment to spy on Palpatine, there's a lot of good reason for Mace NOT to trust Anakin at this point, especially with this particular relationship. It's why he tells Anakin that he has "earned his trust" when Anakin comes to tell them about Palpatine being a Sith because, to Mace's mind, it means Anakin passed that test of his loyalties.

In the context of just the films, we know that in AOTC, Mace was defending Dooku against accusations of being a traitor and was proven WILDLY wrong about that. If we take TCW into account, then both Pong Krell and Barriss Offee have also managed to con the Council into trusting them before committing treason and violence against the Jedi and other innocents. So Mace at this point has quite a few examples that he cannot intrinsically trust fellow Jedi simply because they're Jedi and he has to really look more closely at their actions and choices to determine whether he can trust them or not, which makes it a lot more justifiable and more sympathetic that Mace looks at Anakin's choices in ROTS and begins to doubt him and his loyalty.

And the ultimate tragedy is that Mace was RIGHT, not just because of Anakin's choices regarding his Council position, but because of what we know he chooses to do later. Anakin ISN'T trustworthy, he literally kills Mace and betrays the Jedi and storms the Temple and murders their younglings mere hours (at most) after he goes to Mace to reveal the information about Palpatine being a Sith.

So the evidence I have had tossed at me most often by people who claim the Jedi never trusted Anakin is that quote of Mace's where he does explicitly state "I don't trust him." But they will take that one character stated HIS OPINION about this very specific situation and expand that to try to claim that this is proof that Mace never trusted Anakin EVER, or that the COUNCIL never trusted Anakin ever, or even that NO JEDI IN THE ENTIRE ORDER ever trusted Anakin. And this is ridiculous even within just the context of the films, but it becomes even MORE ludicrous when taken in context with TCW where we see him fight perfectly happily alongside multiple other Jedi, we see other Jedi express positive feelings about Anakin, where the Jedi literally trust him with the guidance and protection of one of their CHILDREN. The Jedi are showing their trust in him ALL THE TIME, so Mace's comment about not trusting him in ROTS comes with some very specific context and is only truly applicable to him and also he's fucking RIGHT not to trust Anakin here anyway.

So yeah, don't trust the Stanakins when they say the Jedi didn't trust Anakin, they're just being stupid about it, and even if the Jedi DIDN'T trust Anakin, Anakin's not exactly trustworthy anyway, so who cares.

[leggerefiore]

If you still want ideas for Volo, here’s one.

Volo’s a villain and people rightfully oppose him, but that negative public image would also apply to his lover too.

You (his partner) probably aren’t treated as badly as he is, but it’s clear that people don’t want to associate with his you, either because they’re against Volo or because they’re scared of him.

How does Volo react to this treatment of you?

(This is also probably a fun prompt to explore with other villains, but you can just stick to Volo if you’d like.)

did some others i thought might be interesting to explore

cw: implied violence, isolation, slight angst

characters: Volo, Cyrus, Colress

💫Volo📜

⭐️ There were similarities between you both that he would begrudgingly admit since the beginning. Perhaps, that was what originally had attracted him to you, aside from the obvious potential of you standing in the way of his plans. The lands of Hisui was isolate and distant, with many groups living among each other with disdain. Outsiders were often brought in with extreme scrutiny and judgement. Especially with a situation as odd as yours. His heart stung in a familiar manner when he saw you sitting alone, rejected by the Galaxy Team and both clans. He knew his intentions were not the purest, but there was a small part of him wishing to give the treatment that he had never received. These similarities would lead to him sharing his ideals. While he would have preferred working alone, you were completely entranced with his promise of a new world without all the sorrow of this one.

⭐️ So he would notice the little things. Judgement was a silent thing, after all. You had been forgiven for everything – another Survey Corps member and that professor carefully explaining your headspace and claiming manipulation. It hurt the blond to see those who so casually cast you aside and judged you harshly take you back in. The harshness towards you would never subside. You attempted to hide it from him, not wanting to spur up his intense feelings, but Volo was more than acquainted with how to go around undetected. He observed everything closely around you. The ways the inhabitants of the village often remarked you with scorn. The Hero of Hisui seemed like an empty title. Rumours of how you had actually aided him clearly spread far and deep. He felt rage at their expressions – something so known and despised by him. The looks he had always experienced in his life.

⭐️ He knew there was little he could do. The blond had gone into hiding after everything, knowing that many would want him dead for what he attempted to do. What he still had the full intentions of finishing. He could only watch and feel his passion reignite with a new vigour. This world… It was far too painful. Not only for him. He needed to find a way to call upon Arceus again. If anyone dared a raise a hand toward you, however, he would definitely intervene. A tall, terrifying blond man would suddenly emerge from some place nearby and restrain them. He will not stand for any true violence towards you. The isolation towards you is nothing new, at least. Everyone had been suspicious of you since your arrival, and now it had only increased. He simply would offer you to fully abandon your life in the Galaxy Team and truly join him. Volo figures that this is the best ending for you both.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ He had been blinded entirely by his grandiose goals. His new world – He had been so close. So close. Yet, it slipped through his fingers. This horrid world around him had one last final attack on him – to deny him even an escape from it. Staying in the Distortion World to rot away for the rest of eternity had been perfectly fine by him, but the thought of you, his beloved, doing the same sickened him. He knew how desperately you supported him – finding the idea of a world without horrible emotion more appealing than this reality. Your support spurred him to work faster, desperate to make a world where you both would finally know peace. Some small part of Cyrus was concerned with what would make you also agree with his vision, but the majority of him was simply relieved that you would not fight him on this and have your full support.

☄️ He would take notice quickly. The way people avoid you – Old friends and acquaintances cutting contact with little hesitation. The loneliness that began to surround you. He had made the decision to go back to the normal world with you, despite the trials and tribulations to certainly follow. The way people in the general public would shoot glares at you – One woman even attacking you and claiming that her brother had been brainwashed by Galactic. He felt those bitter emotions that he wanted nothing more than to completely eradicate. It was far too cruel. He should have been the target of their ire – not you. You clearly were a victim, driven by love for your partner, not thinking straight. That was what that champion had claimed, but it appeared that had not at all become the common sentiment. Many remarked you as a horrible person, ready to force everyone into a situation that none of them wanted. He could only clench his jaw.

☄️ He acts without hesitation. In any situation in which he is around, and you experience scorn, he glares at whoever dared do such a thing until they leave. Anyone who even dares think to enact physical violence towards you will be shown just how surprisingly fit the Galactic Boss is. The idea of someone hurting you in any way is enough to drive him mad, and he cannot forgive himself for his shortcoming there himself. He had wanted you to be uninvolved in his plans for exactly this reason, yet he allowed himself the indulgence of your support. Part of him wants to curl away back in the Distortion World and give up in everything, but the other half feels more driven to protect you. He would take responsibility. It was all he could do. Maybe… Maybe you both could move away from Sinnoh, but where would you go? Cyrus's mind begins to wander. If he was forced to be in this world… Where did he want to be? The two of you would eventually have a long discussion about this.

🥼Colress🛸

🧪 Had you been exactly supporting Team Plasma? Not really. Colress had not been himself, despite being called the leader of it. Part of him was fully aware of Ghetsis using him, but the other half simply did not care, as long as he got to also work on his research unabated. You supported that – So understanding towards his strong interest in bonds and how to bring out the full potential in pokemon. Colress knew he could put up with whatever madness Ghetsis drug him through, so long as he had that. But… Well, he knew that it would become more and more difficult for you to fully support what he was doing. Your upset over the Opelucid City incident, ever present in his mind. But, in the end, you had supported him, and he was still the acting head of Team Plasma.

🧪 Which meant… Even after the remains of Team Plasma had faded out, and he had disbanded the group, you found yourself under the harsh judgement of those around you. Colress paid attention to you closely after it all, worrying about the worst possible scenarios. Friends seemed less inclined to be around you following it, and most acquaintances had completely cut you out – not wishing to be connected with a so-called member of Team Plasma. You had not been. Colress would not have let you, but how much time you had spent at his side had only encouraged the thought. So, you had people yell at you about having their pokemon stolen or the act of terrorism on Opelucid. A few even dared tried to attack you physically, wanting you to hand over pokemon you did not have. It was all quite traumatic. Colress hated every single second of it.

🧪 He refused to let any of it happen in front of him. His work with the International Police following has cleared him from any possible arrests, and you had been determined to almost be entirely uninvolved. Even though that had been announced, it was clear those affected wanted an easy vessel for their anger. Colress much would prefer they target him over you, but he supposed they were just taking anyone they could. He acts to deter anyone with malicious intentions quite often. A cold glare and a hand on one of his pokeballs is usually enough to scare anyone off, but not always. If someone feels inclined towards violence, he shows a surprising amount of strength and catches them. He really will not accept any horrible treatment toward you. A request to work with a certain Alolan organisation could not have come sooner. You two would be out of Unova, and this would all seem like a bad dream.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Swooning series pt. 2

Apologies for the really long intro, there’s content here i swear. Have some selectively mute wild as a treat <3

PT 1

Wild

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Through what few memories that Wild retained, his training stayed most clearly. Perhaps because it was so vigorous that it sunk its ways through the grooves in his brain. It proved useful knowing how to fight fresh out of the Shrine of Resurrection and was certainly a saving grace in multiple occasions, from earning rupees at small traveller‘s challenges or food from saving the wandering folk of his Hyrule, those days spent training as a knight were more useful than they initially let on. But there was one drawback that stuck, even as a century seeped past. He could not speak. At first it was for his integrity, to be seen as the hero he was meant to be. Not that he much enjoyed it when he first began training, he certainly didn’t feel like a hero, but if people felt more assured with his silence, then maybe he could fool himself that this was his role.

It first proved to truly be an issue when he joined the chain. Not knowing where he was or how he got there, he did a run through of his memories, faded as they were. But they were there. A boy looked down at him, in his younger teen years if he was pressed to guess. Wild had moved to stand despite the skull splitting headache and lingering ringing in his ear. One hundred years can’t fix everything, apparently. But the somewhat lax energy he had was offset by the ever so familiar feeling of the pricking of nerves. It seems there was more than just the one boy. In fact, there were seven others, each staring at him expectantly. And just like that, his throat seized so badly that breathing was difficult. He registered that someone asked him a question and stared blankly at the man who spoke, one eye bearing back into Wild‘s own. He raised shaky hands, trying in some way to communicate his situation of muteness only to cut himself short. The man had begun to sign. They were slightly different than the ones Wild were familiar with, but they would do.

It’d so long that he got comfortable with them, speaking occasionally. But you… you changed things. In many ways, he supposes. At first you were scary, unfamiliar and something entirely new. Like waking up from his 100 year sleep. You disoriented his mind and raptured his thoughts. It was jarring and yet something he didn’t want to surpress. And yet, you continued to catch his attention. You did not question that he did not speak, still finding ways to include him in your interactions. But the morning you greeted him with sign was perhaps the morning that he realised what his fixation on you meant. You were something he learned from readily, grew to respect and eventually love. Much like his own relation to his namesake. The wilds of his Hyrule were scary and unfamiliar, but with time became something that he learned from and adapted to, and now something he loves. But you were someone he wants to know. Not at surface level, but he wants to know you more than he knows of himself. He wants to know what drives you, what makes you precisely who you are. And maybe some small part of him wants you to know him. The scars, nightmares, trauma and every other thing he was told he shouldn’t be. You have his every thought and you hold his heart in your hands. He didn’t know how much he missed having this kind of love until you.

Goddesses, he’s grown weak.

But for you? That’s ok.

[astronicht]

Replying to a comment on this ask reply about evil in the North in LOTR (but it was too long to actually put in a comment ,)

@warrioreowynofrohan I'm so glad evil is in the north in The Silmarillion!! I have also been promised that the story of the creation of the world is also in there, since Frodo fell asleep during Tom Bombadil’s early medieval cosmology lesson. I really, really want to know what happens in Elf Creation, because Tolkien did not write a book about it academically but CLEARLY had at least a few opinions about early medieval ideas of where the world came from, which he possibly just put in Middle Earth, if he had them fleshed out enough. This makes me nuts bc CS Lewis, meanwhile, wrote a whole-ass book called The Discarded Image about his idea* of the medieval vision of the cosmos (like where is outer space, where are the planets, where’s heaven, etc, including How It All Got Made) and also per the word of a thesis supervisor back in the day who was super into this stuff, worked symbolism of the planets in the medieval cosmos into one of his fictional works.

*bc the rest is under cut: if you want a more accurate read for medieval and Renaissance cosmology, the textbook is Planets, Stars, and Orbs by Edward Grant. I would not recommend TDI for historical accuracy

Lewis brushes over early medieval ideas only briefly (early medieval anything is actually not usually included in medieval academia on a theme; it’s sort of a weird zone from ca. 600-1100 AD, and Grant doesn't cover it either). But while the book is interesting on some points, it's pretty misleading, and CS Lewis's one solid error was presenting all of medieval cosmology as a Single Idea, which it also very much was not. People did not magically stop arguing about how the world got made and what it looked like for one thousand years, and modern scholarship has looked at that. But he was reading all the same texts as Tolkien, and this weird oversight that has bothered me for years, and for YEARS i have been wondering if Tolkien thought something else. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t! WHY did he put the seven stars (the five visible planets plus the sun and moon) on Aragorn’s sword PLUS the sun and moon, throwing off the count entirely?? Maybe he did not actually give a shit). I look forward to finding out, and probably suffering for it.

RE: Gollum! Your actual question! Honestly at the moment (aka at the end of Fellowship), Gollum seems like such a thoroughly Grendel figure that I almost get worried I’m being lured into a 1:1 comparison, when Tolkien seems to enjoy making a bunch of different references within each character. Strider is King Arthur, Strider is that guy in that saga nicknamed Strider, Strider is another guy with a sword situation in another saga(??) (I have not read enough Norse sagas). Gollum, though, is associated with the underground and with water; he has his dark low pool; Grendel lives in a low dark pool (with his mum). Even being cast out by a matriarch maaaaybe suggests something of Grendel’s Mother, who is just as much a main character, or perhaps more so; she’s the final boss of the Grendel bit of Beowulf, after all. So in conclusion: yeah I see your point! I'd be curious to figure out what else is being folded in. However, assuming the Grendel similarities are on purpose, congrats to Tolkien for the only good Beowulf adaptation ever.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

chapter xii - gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 2,600+

Warnings: spoilers for entire ACOTAR series

masterlist

Wax leaked off the tables and onto the floor of the war room in the Forest House. It was late in the evening, but there was always work to be done.

“We should move our forces to the south east borders.” Eris pointed to the precise area. “The mortal queen, Briallyn, is still not to be underestimated. And our pathetic High Lord of Spring cannot be trusted with protecting his own borders from any movement in the mortal lands.” 

His comrades nodded in understanding. 

Before Eris could continue his orders, he was struck with a distant feeling. 

It was Y/N, that he was sure of.

But it wasn’t fear or panic that he had experienced in the past. Y/N wasn’t in danger.

No.

She was…She was sad.

The feel from the bond was lower, sitting in his gut and almost making him feel somewhat nauseous. His body felt like it had been filled with sand.

“Anything else, Lord Eris?” One of captains asked. 

Eris cleared his throat, pushing down Y/N’s feeling. “No. I require daily updates on the movement of each infantry.”

All the captains replied in unison with, “Yes, General Eris.” And with a bow of each their heads, they left the war room, leaving the heir of Autumn Court alone once again. 

Eris started pacing the room now that he had no observers. 

He wanted to go to her. It was almost more jarring than knowing she was hurt. Placing Y/N in Night Court was out of protection for her, but Eris had also always hoped she’d be happy there. 

If anyone in Rhysand’s court has done anything to upset her… He thought angrily. 

Then he remembered the gifts he had gathered for her. 

After Y/N had freely given Eris all of her merchandise of witchcraft, it had given him her promised effects. The candles actually brought him a full-night’s sleep. And even on his most stressful and tiring days, the eucalyptus eased his mind as he took his nightly baths. His mate took care of him even when she did not know the truth of their connection. 

So, Eris couldn’t help but return the favor. Perhaps it was foolish, but he couldn't help himself.

Go to her. Go to her later tonight, his heart sang to him.  

It would be easy to sneak away at this time of night. The servants and courtiers of the Forest House were familiar enough with his routine that they expected him to retire to his bedchambers for the evening. No one would come looking for him unless there was some kind of an emergency. And even then, no one would dare question his absence out of mere fear. 

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

Through their bond, Eris somehow knew to go to the House of Wind instead of Y/N’s shop. It would be long closed anyway. 

“Where are you?” Eris muttered lowly to himself. 

But someone answered. 

Not someone. Something. 

Torches of faelight started igniting, clearly pointing him in a direction. 

Eris looked up to the ceiling. “Sentient are we?” He almost sounded annoyed by the revelation.

Magic he was blindsided by always made him uneasy and irritated with himself for not being fully prepared for any and all situations. 

But he followed the directions still. 

The faelights didn’t stop until he had gone up a staircase that brought him outdoors. He quickly realized he was on the roof and what lay before him was a training ring. 

Eris quickly remembered what Lucien had mentioned about Y/N training with the Valkyries. Her scent lingered here – along with other various females. This had to be where the group of female warriors trained. 

Then he spotted her. 

Y/N was on the other side of the training ring – alone – shooting arrow after arrow at an impressive distance. Every shot hit true, landing in the bullseyes of various targets. 

Yet Eris felt no pride or relief or contentment coming from his mate. 

He stepped out of the shadows of the stairway, and started to slowly clap. 

Y/N whipped around, an arrow already knocked as if he were her foe. 

But as soon as she recognized Eris, she lowered her bow and let out the breath she was holding. 

“Eris,” she gasped. “What are you doing here?” 

When Y/N started walking toward him, she also walked out of shadow and underneath the moonlight. And that’s when Eris was able to see that Y/N’s eyes were somewhat bloodshot and the skin below was puffy. 

She’d been crying. 

Eris’ nostrils flared. Who had made his mate cry?

“What’s happened?” He asked firmly. 

“N-Nothing,” Y/ stuttered. “I was just practicing…”

“You’ve been crying,” Eris pointed out, tilting his head as if daring her to challenge him like he were some fool. 

So Y/N just looked at him and swallowed; she’d given up on lying to the male, yet also refused to confess what had made her so upset. 

And Eris wasn’t going to push her. 

Why would he expect her to open up to him?

It wasn’t as if he were anyone to Y/N. To her, he was just a stuck up High Fae, heir to a monster, a male all of her friends openly disliked. 

So...Eris decided to take a different route. 

He nodded to the bow in her grasp. “Can you use a sword or do you only excel at archery?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes in challenge. 

She walked over to a row of training equipment, and grabbed two practice swords. They were made of wood – less dangerous than a real blade, but it could still seriously bruise and even concuss one’s training partner if there was a strong blow to the head. 

Y/N tossed one to Eris, who caught it smoothly. 

“Have these Illyrian’s been teaching you to fight like a brute?” He taunted, getting into proper fighting stance. 

Something flickered in Y/N’s gaze as he said ‘Illyrian,’ and it didn’t go amiss by him. 

Without giving her warning, Eris lunged for Y/N. 

She managed to block his swing – but it was almost too late. 

Eris took it easy on her, but he almost didn’t have to. He was over five centuries older than her – and a general. The fight wasn’t exactly fair. Though he hated to admit, the Illyrians had trained Y/N well. It was clear they had taught her tactics to hold her own with a fae, while she was mortal. But with this training and her witchcraft, she would be a challenging foe for most fae warriors. 

The longer they fought and Y/N held her own, the more light returned to her gaze. The sadness she had greeted Eris with almost completely gone. 

But Eris still wanted to know what had upset her in the first place. 

And he could also see that her energy was nearing its end. Her blocks were weaker and her attacks were slower. 

So, he finally took out her footing, forcing her to fall onto her back and he leaned before her, wooden sword at her throat. 

“How’d I do?” Y/N asked him between heavy gasps. She was incapable of stopping her beaming smile. 

In return, Eris couldn’t stop his amused grin. “You have much to learn still.”

Y/N seemed to be expecting such a retort and wasn’t offended in the least. Instead, she merely laughed. 

“Well, I don’t have centuries of training, do I?” She pointed out and raised her brows. 

Her gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips. 

“Plan on releasing me, Lord Eris? Or shall I play dead for the rest of the evening?” 

Eris swore his heart skipped a beat. 

He frowned to save his pride and stood back up, offering her a hand. 

She took it with a smile. 

Eris looked around at the training ring just to stop himself from getting lost in her gaze again. “Why do you train with them? The Valkyries.”

Y/N’s amusement disappeared as she took looked around the ring. “The females here…some train to regain their power. But others…others like Nesta wish for more.”

Eris locked eyes with her once more. “I didn’t ask about them. I asked about you.” 

Y/N’s eyes glazed over as she whispered, “I wish to survive. I don’t ever want to feel helpless again.” 

Eris caught a shiver go through her body. The temperature had already been cold upon his arrival and it was only getting colder. 

Without saying anything, he took off his cloak and draped it over her shoulders. 

She seemed taken aback by the gesture and gaped at him. 

“You mortals are fickle things, catching illnesses so easily.” Eris stated coldly. “It is astounding you haven’t gone completely extinct because of it…”

Y/N laughed. “You know...you don’t have to say something cruel after every good deed, Eris.”

The sound of her laughter alone struck Eris’ heart like lightning. 

“Tell me why you were crying earlier tonight,” he demanded. 

Her smile dropped. Y/N hadn’t expected him to truly care. 

She looked at the ground as she softly replied, “You will laugh.”

“I would never laugh at anything that brought you to tears.” 

And there she was again, shocked by his words. 

“I saw someone tonight who I thought might have…” She hesitated. “Who I thought might have cared for me – as more than just a friend, that is.” 

Eris merely waited for her to continue.

“Earlier tonight, one of them was meant to take me home, like they always do. But he never showed up. No one did. So, I just went to a pub after I closed the shop – alone." She visually winced. "Then I saw him there…with her. It was so clear from the way they looked at each other…”

Y/N needn’t say more. 

She shook her head and huffed out a laugh. “It’s silly when I say it aloud. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get so upset by it.”

Eris had managed to accept the idea of Y/N loving another male. Though he knew it wouldn’t be easy, it was the best choice for her. 

However, Eris had never considered her loving a man who was beneath her. It was silly that such an outcome had never occurred to him. He knew the evils of males more than most. Why had he just assumed Y/N would end up with a male who was worthy? 

Learning that Y/N’s past lovers were less than sufficient, bordering on male chauvinists, made Eris want to hunt each one of them down and make them beg for mercy from Y/N on their knees. 

And he would teach them a thing or two about courting…

But to see her mistreated, ignored, pushed aside from another female in real time was not something Eris could’ve ever prepared himself for. 

Azriel had blatantly forgotten about Y/N. And it only made worse that he'd done so because he was sneaking around with Elain.

Eris stepped to her with a stern look. “Never lessen your emotions. What is the point of stopping yourself from feeling them?”

Though his words still came through his harsh mask, they hit Y/N’s heart. 

“Shall I kill him?” Eris suddenly asked him. 

Y/N’s widened in horror. “W-W-What?!”

“It is the Spymaster you speak of, no?” 

“H-How did you…” Then she blinked rapidly. “Please do not kill anyone!” 

“I truly would not mind,” Eris continued as he dug out nonexistent dirt from beneath his flawless fingernails. “It would be my pleasure.” 

“Is it so obvious, my infatuation for him?” Y/N muttered in embarrassment. 

“The Illyrian is beneath you. Why dwell on such questions? He would rather chase after my brother’s mate. Perhaps one day Lucien will grow a backbone and invoke the blood duel…”

Y/N stiffened. “Blood duel? What is that?”

“An Autumn Court tradition,” Eris answered, almost sounding bored. “If a male tries to even so much as court a female who has a waiting mate, the male mate can challenge him to a blood duel. It is a battle to the death. It is part of the old ways, and rarely is it ever invoked.”

Y/N’s expression was utterly horrified. “B-But Lucien would never do such a thing.” 

Eris shrugged. “How can you be so certain?” 

Though he knew she was right: Lucien was cunning and dangerous when he wanted to be. But he would never inflict such pain onto anyone for such petty reasons. 

“Because despite Elain ignoring their bond, Lucien would never take away any form of happiness she has found,” Y/N answered with confidence. 

The sincerity of her response made it impossible for Eris to continue to tease her or belittle his youngest brother. 

Then he asked, "How did you get back to the House of Wind?"

This court was meant to be taking care of his mate. Not forgetting in her the streets, unable to return home at the end of the night.

"I practically ran out of the pub and back to my store. I was planning on just sleeping there for the night. But I ran into Rhysand – quite literally. I think he knew I was upset. But he was kind enough not to ask. I would've lied to him anyway..."

But Y/N had enough of the topic and looked at Eris with determination now.

“I have told you my secret of the night,” she began. “In return, I think sharing why you are in Night Court is fair enough.” 

“I had something to give you,” he replied easily. 

Her brows shut up. “Oh?” 

“It seems the rumors of your talents were not exaggerated. You remedied my restlessness with mere candles.”

“Enchanted candles,” she corrected. “It involves spells. Not just wax.” 

Eris gave her an irritated look before waving his hand. In the blink of an eye, a dagger and bow appeared in his grasp. 

Immediately, the craftsmanship of both was not missed by Y/N. 

When she didn’t take them from him instantly, Eris stepped forward, almost shoving the gifts toward her. 

The dagger was sheathed in Autumn Court red. The handle was gold with red and green gemstones decorating it.

When Y/N finally grasped it, the weight was almost nothing, yet it still felt like a strong and deadly weapon. 

The bow was a rich gold and chestnut, almost perfectly fitting the Autumn Court aesthetic.

Y/N flicked the string to try it out, and smiled at its aptitude. This was like no bow she had ever owned. 

Eris could no longer handle her silence and stiffly said, “I hope they are to your liking.” 

He spoke as if this were a business transaction. 

“To my liking?” Y/N repeated. “These are the finest weapons I’ve ever touched in my life – let alone merely seen.” Then her eyes shot up to his. “I cannot except such grandiose gifts.” 

She even tried handing them back to Eris. But he shook his head and grasped his hands behind his back.

“I am the son of a High Lord, it was no inconvenience.” 

“It is not an equal trade,” Y/N argued, growing more exasperated. 

Eris ignored her pleas. “Lucien mentioned that you were talented with the bow. I am glad I was able to see it for myself tonight.” 

Then something shifted with Y/N.

“I don’t understand…” She muttered slowly and quietly. “Why are you so short and insolent to everyone, yet all you’ve ever shown me is kindness?” 

“Don’t misinterpret my recompense as kindness. Now we are even.”

“Hardly…” Y/N scoffed, looking down at her gifts again. 

"I simply do not like owing favors," he added for good measure.

"Is that how you view everything?" Y/N sounded sad. "If someone is kind to you, you think they will eventually use it against you?"

Eris didn't have the heart to tell her that was exactly how he viewed everything. It was what came with power – and it was how his father had conditioned him to live. Perhaps he didn't realize how truly difficult it would've been for him to unlearn.

So he ignored her question. And luckily Y/N didn't push.

Eris looked around as if some imaginary person was waiting for him to leave. “I should probably be going.”

But really there was a warmth that had formed in his chest since he helped Y/N off the ground. And it was starting to panic him. The bond made Eris want to be near Y/N at every moment. But he knew he was starting to play a risky game. 

“Wait,” Y/N stepped forward hurriedly, expecting him to winnow the next second. 

With her rush, she hadn’t realized how close she had brought the two of them. 

Her face heated from their closeness. And she looked at the ground for a moment before whispering, “Thank you. For the bow and dagger.” She gave him a sad smile before softly adding, “And for making me feel…less alone.” 

And before Eris could try to muster up a harsh reply or belittle his gift to her, Y/N leaned in and placed a soft kiss against his right cheek. 

It was so innocent. So pure. 

Yet, Eris swore his world stopped. 

His old self would ridicule him for how he was reacting to a kiss on the cheek. You have had countless harems of women, you fool, Eris could hear himself chiding. Pull yourself together before you embarrass yourself. 

Y/N didn’t seem to regret her innocent kiss. But she did add with a smirk, “I promise I won’t tell the others how kind you are to me."

“They would never believe you anyway,” Eris returned. 

"But more more importantly, Eris..." Her eyes darkened with sincerity. "I will never use your kindness against you."

Her finally statement knocked the breath from Eris.

And with it, he windowed from the Night Court and away from his mate. 

When he returned to the Forest House, Eris couldn’t ignore that his heart had never beat harder in his centuries of living.

––––––––

Thank you of much for your patience. My life got a little crazy with traveling and work.

Please let me know if you liked the chapter 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

chapter xiii

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Slide (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Modern AU Rated: T - language, suggestiveness, whump/blood/injury Word count: 5.4k

Summary: Benedict takes you on holiday to a remote bothy in the Scottish highlands. But things do not go according to plan.

Author's Note: This is an anon request fill for Benedict and Reader stranded in a cabin with an illness/injury. You can't threaten me with a whumpy good time, because this idea completely took over my brain and I wrote it in a day. 😅 Enjoy

“We should take advantage of the break in the rain. Let’s go on a little hike.”

“A hike?” You looked up from the sofa where you sat curled with a book. Benedict was standing by the door of the bothy, excitedly pulling on a coat. You had been having a relaxing holiday. Five days in a private luxury bothy in the Scottish highlands. He had been coming to the spot alone for years to paint and now wanted to share it with you under the pretense of your dating anniversary. You didn’t know if you believed such things deserved celebration, but your work in the city had been draining you lately and the reprieve was much appreciated. 

As luck would have it, your trip coincided with the rainiest weather in decades. It was always raining somewhere in Scotland but this was something else entirely. Torrential downpours for sporadic periods each day. But that hadn’t dampened your time together. Thus far, four days of nothing but lie-ins and fireside bottles of wine; reading while Benedict painted from imagination; lazy sex in the mornings and raucous sex at night. It was a bit dangerous that the bed was lofted, as your activities threatened to send you flying off of it. The little hideaway was so secluded that there was no internet and no cell signal, and that was one of the reasons Benedict loved it so much. He said he could hear his muse more clearly without the rest of the world butting in. Neighbors were also an impossibility, as the bothy was situated in a little copse of trees accessible only by crossing a footbridge that skirted a rough cliff edge. Nothing too high off the ground, but narrow enough that your car was parked half a mile away on the other side of the bridge. It was a tiny paradise, just you and the trees and the birds. The rain had occasionally relented to allow you a few rambles nearby, but you hadn’t undertaken anything as ambitious as to be called a ‘hike’.

Benedict was pulling his boots on and waving you toward the door. “Come on! Fresh air will do us good. Let’s go.”

You were remiss to leave your cozy nest but you knew he was right, and his crooked smile was irresistible. With a sigh you rose to your feet, donned your own coat and followed him.

He took your hand as you traipsed through the wet grass down the trail toward the bridge. The air had an earthy musk scent from the previous night’s deluge. It did feel good to stretch your legs. You didn’t even bother asking where you were headed, you would let Benedict lead you. But he suddenly stopped short. 

“You’ve got to be joking.” 

The path before you no longer led to the footbridge. Instead it ended abruptly at a slanting jumble of boulders. A rockslide off the side of the nearby cliff had completely blocked your exit.

You both stood dumbstruck, puzzling out your next steps.

“I don’t know how we didn’t hear this,” you murmured, imagining the rumbling crash of so many large stones piling upon themselves. 

Benedict chuckled next to you. “Well, one of us was being exceptionally noisy last night.”

You smacked him but it only made him laugh harder. Your frustration was building, so unused to being confronted with an obstacle you couldn’t quickly surmount. Or perhaps you could.

“I’m going to climb over.” You said definitively. “It looks solid enough. I’ll get to the other side, go back to the car and get help so this can get cleared away.”

“Well, I’m going with you.” Ben’s brow furrowed, something anxious in his eyes.

You shook your head. “Maybe. But one at a time. Let me test it out and find the footholds. I’m lighter than you.”

“Be careful,” he urged, but you were already clambering onto the nearest rock, pulling yourself over the larger pieces and tentatively resting your weight with each careful step. The top of the mound rose about eight feet off the ground and you scrabbled your way to it easily enough. Standing on top, you could see on the other side that the footbridge was still intact. It gave you a surge of confidence and you stepped forward, eager to scurry down the other side. Then everything sank, your stomach and your optimism as your right foot found a weak spot and shuddered downward in a small cascade of stones, sinking in up to your thigh until you felt it pinned at the ankle, the rocks trapping you in place.

“Shit!” You hissed, tugging uselessly to free yourself. It didn’t hurt, but it had immobilized you.

“What’s wrong?” Ben called from below, panicked.

You gritted your teeth. God, this was embarrassing. Off you had gone with bravado and now the universe was going to show you better. It was going to double down in fact, because you felt the first drops of rain spattering you from the dull grey sky. You clawed at the stones around your leg, able to toss some aside but others were so large you’d never be able to lift them. An animal part of your brain was starting to flood with fear, but you fought to keep your voice steady.

“I’m bloody stuck.” You lamented. “My leg is caught.” It wasn’t a request for assistance, but you should have known how he would react. 

“Hang on, I’m coming!” From your vantage point you could see Ben dash forward and begin to climb the rocks, not caring to test the stability of his steps, just rushing toward you. You opened your mouth to tell him to slow down, but your voice caught in your throat as everything suddenly rumbled, an ominous herald of what was coming. You both froze, staring wide eyed and feet apart from one another. Then everything shifted and fell away. 

Your entire sense of gravity tilted as the rocks beneath and around you slid, all jumbling together as they surged further away from the cliffside. You felt your leg snap within the grinding stone and cried out, landing on your side and feeling a jagged edge glance across your forehead. Your eyes fell on Benedict clamoring to reach you as he lost his own footing on the tumbling wave. He was unsuspecting, his eyes locked only on you when a massive boulder came rolling as easily as a toy ball and slammed into his side, knocking him out of view and into the tumult of roiling earth beneath you. You screamed his name but it was lost to the thunderous clatter. 

Amidst the chaos, one thought began to form clearly in your mind. This was how you would die. Crushed in a rockslide thanks entirely to your own stupidity. And worst of all, you had dragged Ben with you. The nightmare deepened as the sky ripped with a clap of thunder and rain began to pummel you in earnest as everything continued to slide and roll around you. Numb with anguish, all you could do was bury your face in your hands and wait for fate to claim you.

But it didn’t. In what felt like only a moment, everything stilled. The rocks had stopped moving, their sound had died away, and you were lying on top of the mound sensing nothing but the cold patter of heavy rain. You were still alive, a fact that was confirmed by the burning pain you felt pulsing in your leg. Looking down you saw that it was freed, released from the churning rocks, but it was bloodied and wouldn’t respond to your attempts to move it. Though it was a novel experience for you, there was no doubt in your mind that it was broken.

That was the least of your worries. As you came back to your senses they all tuned to one goal. You had to find Benedict. You called out for him, voice croaking, but were met with silence. You pushed yourself up to look around. The slide hadn’t buried the trail any further, only shifted on top of itself. You could see the path back to the bothy on one side and the footbridge on the other. But no Benedict. You screamed his name again, louder. Nothing. A sickening dread started to rise from your stomach as you began to pull yourself over the rock. You couldn’t stand properly and even if you could, you didn’t want to risk disturbing anything. It was better to spread your weight across the surface and so you began to slither on your belly, fingers bloodying themselves on rough edges as you dragged along in the direction you had last seen him. Everything was turning slick and muddy with the rain. You moved back down toward the trail, eyes sweeping, and just near the bottom is where you saw a spot of orange amidst the rubble. His shirt.

“Ben!” You shrieked, half-rising on your good leg to hobble over to him. You reached the bottom of the rock pile and saw him lying at the edge of it. You chanted his name desperately as you landed at his side. He was on his back mostly unhidden, a few small stones piled around his limbs which you pushed away, but one large one wedged over the right side of his chest. He was frighteningly pale and seemingly unconscious, lying still as he was battered by rain.

“Ben,” you called to him, taking his face in your hands. “Ben, wake up!” When he didn’t respond, your heart started hammering. No, no, no. You bent an ear to his mouth, silently praying to every deity you had ever heard of. To your great relief, he was breathing. But he was struggling. Your eyes landed on the boulder, covered in lichen and mocking you. You suddenly hated it more than you had hated anything in your life. With a surge of strength you didn’t know you possessed you drove yourself against it, leveraging with your good knee. It felt like fighting a brick wall and yet somehow after a moment, it loosened and you shoved until it tumbled backward and off of Benedict. 

Immediately he took a loud, wheezing inhale followed by a groaning “Fuuuuucccckkkkk.”

You would have laughed with relief if you were not so strung out on adrenaline and hell bent on getting as far away from this death trap as possible. 

“Ben,” You shook him lightly. “Benedict, open your eyes.” 

He did so, blinking against the rain, taking a moment to focus. Those bright, gentle eyes gazed back at you and made you feel rooted to the earth again. 

“We need to get back to the bothy. Can you stand?”

He stared at you, seeming dazed, then brought a hand to your forehead, speaking softly. “You’re bleeding.”

As his fingers came away red, you were surprised that you didn’t feel any pain other than the dull throb of your leg. None of this was important right now. You had to get to shelter and then you could assess all of your wounds.

“I’m alright.” You stated firmly. “We need to go, come on now.”

He wrapped his right arm around your shoulders, the sleeve of his coat ripped and dirtied. You braced against each other as best you could and tried to stand but both fell back with shouts of pain, you unable to tolerate any weight on your shattered leg, and him clutching at his right side. You were in bad shape, but had no other options than to push through. No one was coming to help you and neither of you would leave the other.

You locked into each other’s eyes, breathing hard, and a silent understanding passed between you. Now was not a time for weakness. You would need to be strong for each other. You banded your arms around each other once again and, wincing and gasping, slowly staggered to your feet. Ben leaned heavily across your shoulders while you hopped on your left foot and dragged the other behind you.

Somehow through the pouring rain, with the screaming throb in your leg and Benedict swaying weightily beside you, you inched back along the trail to the bothy, soaked to the bone once you finally shambled inside. You maneuvered to gingerly lay Benedict onto the sofa but he still cried out at the movement. Then he laid still, eyes screwed shut against the pain as he exhaled raggedly through his nose. Spurred to action, you hopped loudly around the small space gathering towels, blankets, water, and the tiny first aid kit stashed in a cupboard. What use it would be, you didn’t know, but it was all you had. You checked your phone, already knowing there was no signal to dial out but instinctively needing to confirm it. Your mind spun. Plans. Actions. Steps. You were going to fix this. You were going to get out of this situation. You just had to keep your head, which was significantly harder to do when the man you loved was lying nearby as pale as a ghost and groaning. But you could get yourselves warm and dry. That was a first step.

After stoking a fire in the woodstove you lowered to sit next to the sofa, clumsily tumbling onto the floor as you winced at the shooting ache in your leg. Benedict’s eyes flew open and he looked at you with concern. “Your leg’s broken?” He intuited.

“Mmhmm,” You nodded, breathing through the pain. “But I’m fine. We need to check you out.”

You mopped his hair and face with a towel, the friction and heat from the nearby stove bringing some color back to his skin. You searched his eyes.

“What hurts? How do you feel?”

He grimaced. “Dizzy, but not too bad. I don’t know if I’m concussed or if I just got hit by a great bloody bunch of rocks.” He ended with his telltale smirk.

You were feeling anything but humorous at that moment. His joke made your insides seize, worried something may be seriously wrong.

“Have you been concussed before? Do you know what it feels like?”

He grinned further. “I have. You don’t grow up with seven siblings and not end up concussed. This doesn’t feel the same, but I can’t be sure.” Your mind started to quest through any errant information you had about concussions. He could read the panic in your expression and brought a hand to wrap around yours. “Hey, it’s going to be alright. If I start to go loopy that’s not a good sign, but I really think I’m okay.”

All you could do was nod tightly, imagining a dozen horrific scenarios and realizing there was little to nothing you could do about them. You simply had to stay focused on the moment and the fact that he was clear headed now. 

“What else?”

He waved a hand vaguely over his right side. “Something bad, here.”

As carefully as you could, you worked in tandem to peel off his sopping coat while bit back yelps of agony. You frowned at the sight of his right arm, scraped and lacerated shoulder to wrist, but it didn’t appear to be broken. Then you lifted the hem of his t-shirt and he arched as best he could so that you could pull it off, turning his face away as he seethed into the cushions. You sucked in a breath, horrified by what you had uncovered. A bruise, black and purple and green, mottling the entire side of his body and rippling with each breath. Cursing to yourself, you rested fingertips lightly over it and even that caused him to flinch. 

“I think…” you wavered. “I think your ribs are broken.”

He stared at the ceiling, his voice tight but sarcastic. “Yep, that feels about right.”

“Can you breathe?”

“Well enough,” he sighed. 

The severity of the situation was sinking in. Hysteria was starting to bubble in your chest but you locked your jaw, determined to keep it together. “What do I… What should I do, Ben? How do I fix this?”

He turned to look at you, his expression going soft. “You can’t fix it.”

That threatened to push you over the edge. Your constitution slipped, your chin started to tremble, tears mounting in your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He cupped your face with a large hand, pads of his fingers pressing into your hair, urging you to focus. “We’re going to be alright. This is what’s going to happen. Tomorrow is our last rental day and the owners visit the property between guests. So they’ll come, see the path is blocked and know that we’re stuck here. They’ll get help. We just have to wait until tomorrow. We have everything we need here. We just have to be still and wait.”

You nodded, swallowing hard against the tears, ashamed that you couldn’t be stronger but breathlessly grateful that he would comfort you even when he was grievously injured. You kissed the palm of his hand and steadied yourself against its warmth. So very little was in your control, but you were determined to right the things that were. Moving carefully and trying to ignore the protesting pangs from your leg, you dried him off and piled him with blankets. The stove was burning high and the bothy still had the cozy air you had enjoyed the past few days. You stripped off your own soaking tops down to your bra and wrapped yourself in a blanket. Then you wet a rag and started to clean the cuts on his arm, dressing them with the ointment and bandages from the first aid kit.

Benedict watched you silently, something twinkling and bemused in his eyes. You worried that if you stared at him too long you were going to cry, so you focused on your task. Once you were finished he held out his hand.

“Give me the rag.” You handed it to him. “Come here.”

You shifted up to face him, concerned. “What do you need?”

Wordlessly, he pulled your chin closer with one hand and began to lightly dab at your forehead with the other. You closed your eyes, feeling the tears threaten again. If there was one thing Benedict Bridgerton would never cease to be come hell or high water, it was a caretaker of others. You weren’t quite sure what you had done to deserve such a man, but you knew it was imperative that you never let him go. As he wiped the blood away, your cut started to sting. You hadn’t found a mirror to examine it and you frankly didn’t want to. He was your only concern right now.

“Does it hurt?” He asked softly. You were too overcome to do anything other than nod. Then he pulled your chin down even further, leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to your wound. 

That’s what broke you. You finally let the tears spill down your cheeks, burrowing your face into the side of his neck. “I’m so sorry, Ben,” you whispered.

“What are you sorry for?” He asked, bewildered.

“I should never have tried to climb those damned rocks.”

He huffed. “You were trying to help us. I’m the one who shouldn’t have jumped up after you.”

You pulled back, sniffling. “You were trying to help me.”

“And look where all of that help landed us,” he smirked, causing you both to chuckle. But his laugh almost immediately turned into agonized gasps. 

“Alright, alright,” You put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “No laughing.”

“You need to splint your leg,” he rasped.

“How precisely should I do that?”

His eyes darted around the room. “The kindling for the stove. Take two long pieces and tie them off with towels.”

You began to drag yourself across the floor toward the woodpile, a realization forming that perhaps two people with zero medical training between them should not be as drawn to outdoor isolation as you were. You gathered two sturdy sticks and a handful of dish towels and then scraped your way back to his side.

“Make sure your leg is straight and tie it tight,” Benedict instructed. You nodded but were filled with apprehension. Ever since you had collapsed on the floor, your useless leg had been twisted at an appalling angle. You knew setting it was going to hurt. Taking a deep breath, you reached forward and tugged it straight. A white hot jab of pain jolted through your whole body, causing you to scream. Distantly, you could hear Benedict speaking to you, his hand rubbing circles across your back. His touch was what you focused on, the only thing helping you to fight the nausea as you lined up the wood and tied it tightly on either side of your broken limb, whimpering with each knot pulled. You fell back against the side of the sofa, panting as you found equilibrium and the searing pain faded back to an insistent throb. Benedict wrapped an arm across your chest, the closest thing to an embrace he could offer. You lay in silence together, exhausted, settling in for what was sure to be the longest night of your life.

Warmed by the fire and lulled by the rain driving against the windows, the atmosphere inside the bothy would have been dreadfully romantic if you weren’t both immobilized by broken bones and stranded, awaiting rescue. It would have been all too easy to fall asleep, but you were determined to stay awake until help arrived. You scooched yourself around the floor with all the grace of a geriatric slug, feeding the stove and brewing tea which you helped Benedict to drink as he lay flat. Out of habit you kept checking your phone, wondering if by some miracle a cell signal would appear.

“Sorry there’s no service here,” Benedict frowned. “Part of the whole appeal. Going off the grid.”

“I know,” you ran a reassuring hand through his hair. “It’s not your fault, I just can’t help checking. We need something to occupy ourselves.” Your eyes fell to the stacks of books beneath the coffee table, a motley assortment from the owners and you suspected, prior guests. You began to assess the authors, gauging his reactions.

“Dostoevsky?”

He grinned. “Well, I would enjoy that but I know it would put you to sleep.”

He was right. You set it back. “Ooo! Byron!” You lilted, waving the book at him tauntingly.

He groaned. “God, please. I’m in enough pain already.”

You laughed and tossed it aside. Next was a sleek, mysterious cover with a blurb promising ‘luxurious, unbridled passion’. You smirked. That seemed exciting enough to keep you both awake. 

“We’re reading filth,” you announced, settling in next to him again. You had expected something humorous, the kind of tawdry romance novel that every aunt seemed to be fond of. But while the story started out playful enough, the simmering sexual energy woven by the author’s talented prose was so evocative, you both started to squirm. The fearless, beautiful depictions of the lovers’ encounters were so salacious that you were too stunned to keep reading them aloud, your mouth falling open as you blushed instead. Dimestore trash this was not.

Benedict shifted behind you but you couldn’t look at him. “Maybe save that one for later,” he croaked. “Jesus, who wrote that?”

“Faye someone.” You mumbled, setting it aside with a mental note to steal it or buy your own copy.

“Please make me think of something else now,” Benedict pleaded, his voice tight.

“P.G. Wodehouse it is.” You smiled, grateful to have found something light and familiar.

“Brilliant.”

By the time you finished the short volume it was dark outside but the rain hadn’t let up. You could have switched on the lights but that seemed too harsh for the states you were in. The fire was a more relaxing illumination.

Your stomach rumbled, waking up after an extended period of anxiety. “We should eat something.” You had food enough to cook meals for one more day, but could scrounge for now. You trailed a hand lazily over Benedict’s cheek. “What do you want?”  He raised a brow. “Scotch. Neat.”

“You’re not drinking in your condition.” You said firmly, eliciting an exaggerated pout from him. “And neither am I. Do you have an appetite for anything solid?”

“Not really.”

“Just bread?”

You knew that would bring a light to his eyes. “With butter?”

You grinned. “Of course.” It was never a question with him. That was the one thing he would always happily eat. Setting off on another crawling journey across the floor to the kitchenette, you cobbled together your dinner. Bread, butter, a bit of cheese, a jar of olives. It would do. It was damn near continental. 

After your haphazard meal you found Benedict’s eyes drifting closed, everything about him looking utterly spent.

You held his hand in your own and kissed his bloodied knuckles. “Ben, you’re drifting off. Should you…can you sleep with a concussion?”

His eyes fluttered open, bleary. “Yes,” he mumbled. “Just wake me up every couple of hours to make sure I know my own name. Ask me some questions.”

“Alright.” You nodded, trying to ignore the spike of fear inside. What if he was hiding how he truly felt for your sake? What if he did have a concussion and got worse while he slept? What if you couldn’t wake him up again? Part of you wanted to plead with him to stay awake through the night, but it was overruled by the part that told you to trust him. Choosing hope, you squeezed his hand and laid it across his chest.

“What about you?” He was fading fast, eyes closed.

“I’m not tired,” you lied. “Get some rest.”

Then your vigil began. You set your phone alarm to go off every three hours and brewed another pot of tea. You would stay awake. If anything was compelling enough to combat your wearied body’s exhaustion, it was the need to make sure Benedict kept breathing and that he could come back to you when you woke him. You stayed at his side, studying the angles of his handsome face in the glow of the fire, grateful that he seemed to be peaceful. And you waited.

__

“Ben?”

“Mmm?”

“Where are you?”

“In Scotland.”

“Why are we here?”

“We’re on holiday.”

“Who is your eldest brother?”

“Anthony.”

“Alright, go back to sleep.”

—

“Ben?”

“Mmm?”

“Where are you?”

“In the mountains.”

“Why are we here?”

“I wanted to paint.”

“Where did you take me on our second date?”

“I said, ‘What do you say we go to Marseille?’”

“Yes, it was awful of you. I finally committed to you and then you said cheesy mad shit like that.”

“But you came with me.”

“I did.”

“And you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did. Go back to sleep.”

—

The third time you woke him, the light was turning grey outside and the rain had weakened to fits of spray. It was the day of your rescue. You just had to wait a few more hours. You decided you should probably wake Benedict for good.

“Ben?” You ran your hands through his hair, coaxing him back.

“Mmm?” 

He had awoken so easily each time, it was reassuring.

“Where are you?”

“I’m with you,” he slurred.

Your heart faltered, touched by his response but also concerned at its vagueness. 

“And who am I?”

Even though his eyes remained closed, his lips tilted into a small smile. “You’re the love of my life.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Exhaustion, fear, relief and love heaping upon one another.

Your voice trembled. “Where are we both right now?”

“We’re stuck in the bloody bothy.” He spat.

You chuckled, running your thumb over his forehead. He seemed to be lucid. “Why are we here?”

“I wanted to ask you,” he sighed, sounding almost as if slipping back into sleep.

You were confounded. “Ask me what?”

At last his eyes blinked open, settling on you with the steady, blue-grey stare that you could drown in. 

“Get my coat.” 

Still confused, you did as he asked, pulling his coat from the side of the sofa and handing it to him. It was only when he began rummaging through the pockets that realization struck and you froze. Time seemed to slow as he finally pulled out a small box and tossed the coat aside. He pried the lid open and brought it to rest on his bruised chest so that you were staring face first at a silver ring twined with a sapphire and pearls.

“Ask you to be my wife.” He declared, that timeless cheeky grin lighting his face. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t move. You weren’t sure if you were delirious with exhaustion or dreaming. He continued. “The hike was to an overlook. The landscape I painted that you love so much? I wanted to ask you there. I’m sorry we didn’t make it.”

Everything was falling into place. His insistence on this holiday. The uncharacteristic request for a hike. He had meant it to be one of the most memorable days of your life. It had certainly turned out that way, but not in the expected fashion.

Entirely ignoring the beautiful ring, you pulled him into a kiss.

“Oh, Ben.” You weren’t sure if you were laughing or crying or about to faint. You just needed to have him close.

He nuzzled his nose against yours, trying to convey as much affection as he could while not being able to move.

“This isn’t how I wanted it to be, but I need to ask you before anything else goes wrong.”

You stared back at him in alarm. “Nothing else is going to go wrong. Don’t you dare say that.”

He only smiled, devastating with his boyish grin and the cheerful crinkles around his bright eyes. 

“So? Will you?”

“Yes! Yes, of course I will.” Your words were muffled into his lips as you kissed him again, hands wound tight into his hair, never wanting to let go. You didn’t feel tired anymore. You didn’t feel your pain. All you felt was him. Even now he smelled so wonderful, tasted so wonderful. He was light and certainty. He felt like home. 

When you managed to pry yourself off of him, his eyes were glittering. He plucked the ring from its box and slid it onto your shaking hand.

“In sickness and in health.” He beamed. “I think we’ve already covered that bit.”

“Yes, we have.” You fell upon him again, breathless, everything fading behind the reality that he would be yours forever. It was a twist of fortune you’d never feel worthy of.

A few hours later you were snogging rather ferociously when someone began pounding on the door. It was emergency services. Just as Benedict had foretold, the bothy owners had seen the rockslide and sent help. He was infuriatingly correct in that way most of the time. A team of people dressed in yellow bandaged you both further and expressed surprise as how well you had handled yourselves under the circumstances. The rubble would take too long to be cleared but with specialty equipment they carried you expertly over to safety and into awaiting ambulances.

Your tallied damage was three leg fractures, three forehead stitches, three broken ribs and no concussion. ‘Symmetrically maimed’ as Benedict proudly announced to your family members who sped up to Scotland to collect you. In the subsequent weeks everyone was so busy fluttering around your injuries that no one noticed your ring finger. You and Benedict made a game of it, placing bets on who would be the first. You won the bet when three weeks in, Violet suddenly clamped eyes on your left hand and started yelping. Then added to the endless questions about your harrowing tale of survival, you were peppered with questions about wedding plans. Muscling through each day as a couple of lovesick invalids, you hadn’t found time to make any, but you had agreed on one thing. No matter where you went on honeymoon, hiking would not be on the itinerary.

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @faye-tale

[ameliawarnerr]

POV: MC is drunk at Aurora and she texts Jake.

Part - 2

Find part 1 here!

—MC—

I tip-toe down the stairs, my hand grazing the wall as I silently pray not to wake anybody. And by anybody, I mean, Lilly Donfort, Hannah Donfort and Jake Donfort. I am the only one who isn't Donfort so I figured I should get the hell out of here before any of them wakes up. Explaining my presence here is not going to be easy.

I'm clearly in the clothes I wore last night– all wrinkled and shrunken. I have no idea where my phone, my shoes or oh wait I don't know where my entire logic has vanished.

If I ran into someone, I truly hope it to be Lilly. And she could even tell me why I am at her place. Perhaps she found me and then rescued me here. Obviously, it cannot be Hannah. She doesn't even come out of the house that often. If I am unfortunate enough to run into her this morning, I have no clue what I am supposed to say. What if she thinks I slept with her half brother?!

Did I?

However, if I'm as ill-fated as Shakespeare’s tragic characters, I’d definitely come across Jake.

Although it cannot be Jake who got me here. He never goes to Aurora and if Phil was to call anyone to help me, the list would start with Jessy and end with Thomas. Jake wouldn't make it to that list for obvious reasons.

I successfully lay my feet on the ground floor. It's five in the morning. No one would be awake. I sprint straight to the door, paying little attention to my surroundings. I'd have my phone collected later. I'm currently in the red zone of potential awkward situations, followed by guilt and longing. All things I hate.

My hand wraps around the cold knob of the door. I turn it around but it's locked. “Son of a…”

“Where do you think you are leaving?” A distant voice makes a trail of obscene words escape my mouth. Whoever is writing my story is clearly inspired by Shakespeare.

I clear my throat, removing my hand from the knob. I don't turn away as I say, “I don't know how I got here but I need to be back at home. I have an important thing to do.”

“Make a mindmap of all the things that happened last night? I can help.” His voice is a little distracted, taunting and infuriating.

I scoff, turning away to look at him. He’s behind the kitchen island which I had conveniently ignored on the little run from the stairs to the door. He's cooking something. If he really wants to play the indirect, between the lines tormenting game, I think he doesn't know my argumentative and bitch side because I had a soft spot for him as soon as I knew him.

“If you are really feeling helpful, Donfort, then, why don't you tell me what I am doing here?” I fold my hands on my chest. Addressing the opponent with the last name is sort of a declaration.

He doesn't look at me as he sprinkles salt and black pepper onto whatever he's cooking in that pan. My eyes descend to his hands as he works before I jerk them away. “Oh, I stalked you and then I found out that you were drunk and vulnerable so I kidnapped you.” He deadpans.

I scoff again. Jake doesn't beat around the bush. If he's doing this, he wants to make a point.

“I can't imagine why you'd do that.” I crease my brows, pretending to be genuinely confused. I walk towards him. As I lay my palms on the island, I see the slight shake of his hand and his posture becoming rigid. I don't know if it's my closeness or that I indirectly pointed at our history because as much as we both try to ignore it, one of us would mention it. And I can't be the one being caught off-guard.

“Kidnappers often have motivations and planning for months but sometimes, they are driven by reasons that might be beyond the victim’s understanding.” He states, his hands moving swiftly again as he lowers the flame of the stove. There's a mug filled with coffee. I eye it.

Jake looks up then follows my gaze as I look away. He grabs the mug and offers it to me. I take it without saying thank you.

“What’s your point?” I cut to the chase. I'm used to him being percipient and having thoughts a normal human being can't fathom, but I could understand his points. I can, still. But it's five in the morning.

“My point, Stephens, is that the motivation for abduction doesn't matter if you are the victim.” He uses my last name.

“It mattered when Hannah was kidnapped.” I rebuke.

He sighs, putting the stove off and really looking at me for the first time. I might be tackling the guilt of shutting him out internally but the longing is coming out on the surface. “Again, it mattered to us. Not to Hannah. All she could have thought about was finding a way out or regretting being careless in the first place.”

I know what this is about now. No matter the status of our relationship, I don't think he can ever hold back from lecturing me about my own safety. I shove down the softness that his care brings in me and think about how much I hate being called weak. “So this is about my getting drunk in a bar owned by a friend.”

He gives me a look.

“What? It's not like I was totally alone. Phil was there and he's a friend. I'm allowed to get wasted in the company of a friend. And he owns the bar. There's no way he'd let anyone hurt me on his property.”

If I hate being called weak– directly or indirectly– he hates when I trust Phil.

“The same Phil Hawkins who got arrested and had to plead for help to a stranger towns away? The same guy whose bar Cleo and Thomas broke into and he couldn't do anything about that, save for sulking to his sister? That guy?” There's a challenge in his voice.

I slid down to the stool. I can't defend Phil against the truth so I drink my coffee silently after saying, “Yep. Him.”

Jake shakes his head. “All I am asking you is to be a little careful. I know you are smart and can get out of situations perhaps even I wouldn't be able to.” My shoulders rise. His words can make me feel absolutely weak and then inevitable all of a sudden. “But that doesn't mean you can be careless.”

I don't look at him as I drink my coffee, staring at the wall. “I think you shouldn't care.”

He nods. “And I think it's cruel of you,” our eyes meet, “To pretend not to know why I care.”

I tear my gaze off him. “I’ve moved on. I need to pretend that you have too.”

I can feel his gaze on me, pleading silently for me to look at him. I cannot. “You haven't moved on. You're trying to move on and evidently, you are doing an awful job.” He says, his patience little by little vanishing.

I look at him, then. “What do you mean, evidently?” I query, ignoring everything else he said. He turns away and reaches out for something from the opposite kitchen counter. Turning back, he hands me my phone.

The screen shows our chat. Two recent messages marked read. Two recent messages that I sent while I was drunk and it's clear that I was drunk. God, so many spelling errors on top of no punctuation. And I thought solving a case through texts would make me a pro at texting. I threatened him to sleep with any guy? What is wrong with me?

I shrug. “I don't talk like this. This must have been–”

He cuts me off. “Phil? Save it. The drunk you have already tried it. Not to mention, she was more like you than you are now. Honest and bold. She wasn't the one who'd not have enough courage to look someone in the eye.” His voice lowers with every word.

Mortification riles me up from the chair. “Alright. Thanks for the coffee and the lecture I didn't pay for. I’ll be leaving now.” I lay the cup on the island and turn away.

“You talk a lot when you're drunk.” He says, making me halt midway. All the stupid things I could have said wander around my head. The reason I got drunk in the first place is the most plausible one. Shit shit shit—

As I slowly turn sound, I find that Jake has left the kitchen and is now heading towards the stairs, unaffected by my declaration that I'm leaving. Motherfucker knows I'd follow him.

I rush towards him as he climbs the first step. “What did I say?” I ask, firmly.

“Weren’t you leaving?” He banters while continuing to climb the stairs. I do the same, only a step behind him.

“Jake, come on, we are not five years old. Tell me what I said.” I bark.

He barely acts threatened by my acidified voice. “What part? When you were babbling not knowing I was standing two steps away or the long one in the car? To me, they were both equally enjoyable.”

oh my god. I can't trust the drunk me talking to him directly, what shit would I have spitted when I didn't know he was around?

I glance up and he's already five steps away. I rush to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Jake, I swear to god, tell me right now—”

He whirls around and I'm taken by surprise– ending with one foot on the same step as his and the other one step down. My hand on his shoulder slides down to his chest. “Or else? What will you do?” He challenges, his coffee-like eyes dart from one eye to the other in a mischievous manner. He knows if he presents anything like a challenge, I'd take it.

My back is against the wall and if he takes half a step, I'd pressed between them. “Or, or,” the closeness makes me stutter. Or maybe it's the fact that he's not nervous at all. Or he's just hiding it well. I can't lose to him because of closeness. That's some excuse Thomas would pull.

“I’m listening.”

I gain my posture back, straight my spine but still need to look up to meet his eyes. “Or I’ll go to your room, sleep in that bed and come out when Lilly’s awake and before I’d even begin to explain, she’d go around telling everyone that we slept together.”

Jake has such an infuriating gaze then I can neither look at him nor look away. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

I really need to keep my fantasies away from my threats. “No. I guess I'm still a little drunk. So please, tell me what I said?” I try softening my voice, looking at him rather than glaring.

He blinks and looks away. “I think you know what you said. That's why you are so desperate to confirm it, that you are standing on my foot.”

I peek down. I am actually standing on his foot. I pull my feet back but end up losing my balance. The hand on Jake’s chest fists his black t-shirt. His hand wraps around my waist holding me in place. I gain my balance back and my face ends up too close to his.

His body is pressed against mine though there's still some sane distance between our heads. I gulp down the urges surfacing all of a sudden. The ones I locked away for weeks. The air is thick with ache and yearning. Our collective wants.

He glances at my lips then back at my eyes. “You said that I forced you to drink because I didn't try to contact you after you rejected me. You said you can't stop thinking about me. And when I was getting you out of the car, you said you wanted to kiss me.”

“Did I?” I foolishly ask, looking at his lips.

“Yes.” He breathes out, nearing me. His grip on my waist tightens.

“And did you do it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Of course, not.” He answers in a beat.

“Because I was drunk.” I say the reason out loud, leaning in.

He inhales and agrees. “Because you were drunk.”

“Which I am not anymore.” I lean in, merely an inch away from his lips. I don't think either of us is looking anywhere but each other's lips. I don't know if it's yearning for each other or the fact that we have spent almost a month thinking about us, that we no longer waste any time thinking. All thoughts weigh no importance anymore. It's clear what we want.

“Say it.” He whispers, his lips grazing against mine.

I don't. I let the weeks of frustration, guilt, longing release out as our lips touch. There's no point being gentle and slow. I know he knows it and he's acting upon it. I'm pressed against the wall, as his other hand caresses the side of my neck. I fist his t-shirt in my hand again, as the other hand wanders in his hair.

His tongue skims over my lower lip as he arches my neck up. I open my mouth, letting him enjoy my submissive side for a moment. Then, I bit his lip, smiling between the kisses. I can feel his smirk. The hand on my waist slides under my top and pinches my side. I wriggle in his hold.

I pull his hair harder but that only encourages him to kiss me faster. He grabs my hand on his chest and pins it against the wall, slowly sliding it above my head.

We break through only when we hear a door opening. We are both out of breath as we stare at each other, knowing the only wall between us: my decision to move on, has been burned down.

“Get drunk more often. It's always fun listening to you complain about me.” He smiles.

I bite back a smile but I think I'm terribly failing.. “Didn’t I need to be more careful?”

“When I’m around, you can put your guard down.” He affirms.

“That’s sweet but I really need to leave now.” I partly turn and take a step down only for him to wrap his hands around my waist to stop me.

“Yeah, that's not happening.” He says, leading me up the stairs again.

Yeah, that's not happening any time soon.

—The End—

[a-doubleh-x]

TADC Theory: Are the characters actually trapped in a videogame?

One of the first things that caught my attention when I first watched The Amazing Digital Circus pilot was the sheer ambiguity of the situation the show takes place.

The world the characters are in and its aesthetics are clearly inspired by old videogames, the terms "player character " and "NPC" are thrown around, even Pomni mentions putting a headset on, an item that is iften used in modern times to play games.

However, none of the main characters state out loud they believe they're "trapped in a videogame". They call it a "digital world" or variations of it.

I found that very curious because it raises some questions, namely: "Are they actually in a videogame?" and "If they are, why is that detail not clear?"

It might be an innocuous detail, but since it grabbed my interest I decided to partake in a bit of light speculation based on ibservable facts.

Episode 2 makes things more confusing because, for all intents and purposes, the Candy Canyon Kingdom and its inhabitants appear to be earnest attempts to build a videogame experience. The NPCs have game lije purposes, the physics have game like purposes, but then... why do the NPCs have such advanced AI that they're able to be self aware?

Caine mentioned he was "testing out a new AI". *"Testing"*, not *"developing"*, mind you. The phrasing suggests he didn't create the AI, which makes sense to me, since Caine has a track record of not understand how the human mind works and as it turns out, Gummigoo sounded more like a human than *himself*.

That leads me to believe that he did not in fact develop the AI, but someone else, which continues to beg the question: "Is this actually a *game*?" "Who built this *thing* and why?"

When searching for answers, I looked into one of the main inspirations for the show, "I have no mouth and I must scream". In that story, a rogue AI constrols a mechanic complex designed to torture the last remaining humans on Earth.

That did sound similar to the show's settings, I could tell the thematic similarities, but I also quickly realized the show is probably not going to the exact same. For one, it would be too predictable with those familiar with the source material. For two, I'm not sure it would entirely align with the show's purpose of contemplating the existential nature of humans and making fun of it.

The intention of "I have no mouth" was among other things to expose the consequences of war and hatred, but the conflict in TADC seems to involve sense deprivation and confinement instead (sounds familiar?).

My first assumption is that *maybe* the Amazing Digital Circus was developed in-universe as a videogame, was abandoned at some point, then taken over by a rogue AI. Perhaps the unseen "Abel" of "Caine and Abel", referenced by the logo from episode 1.

That answers the question of why the game looks like a game, feels like a game, but it's not a game. However, it doesn't explain how the humans became trapped in the first place by the rogue AI, what its purpose is or what the outside world looks like and why it allowed this dituation to happen.

There's very little evidence left that suggests one possibility or another, so based on what there is and the themes of the show, I'm going to list a few scenarios based on my idea:

• #1: The show takes place in a futuristic setting where VR is so prevalent, most people experience it as a large part of their lives. In order to create a more immersive experience, an AI was developed, but it eventually misunderstood its purpose and keeps the humans trapped because it believes it's what they want.

• #2: The show takes place in a post apocalyptic setting where large portions of enviorment are toxic and life outside a shelter is near impossible. VR is used as a coping mechanism in order to bring people relief, but a lack of proper management brings out a rogue AI that takes control of a game and tortures humans out of resentment for destroying their own planet.

• #3: The show takes place in a seedy, morally bankrupt technocracy. An experiment is conducted to see how humans react to long term exposure to VR, using a repurposed videogame as its setting. This project is eventually abandoned but picked up by a rogue AI who keeps hunting humans and subjecting them to the game because it's all it knows.

These are the three first scenarios that coke to mind. I'll admit none of them fully convince me, but I'll keep looking at the show from different angles for as long as I keep finding openings to explore.

See you around! 👋

[josefavomjaaga]

Duroc the mediator

Which, I believe, Duroc often was. This particular occasion however took place in 1809, and he acted as a go-between with Napoleon and Eugène, in April and May 1809, after Eugène’s defeat in his very first attempt as commander-in-chief, on April 16, at Sacile. Eugène was heartbroken over it and very afraid of Napoleon’s reaction to the news. Napoleon – full credit to him for once – originally kept his cool and in his first answer was not even very severe. He only became angry when Eugène’s reports, in his opinion, did not give him enough information on the situation.

And as usual, when he was really angry, he deemed the culprit unworthy of receiving a direct message. Or perhaps Duroc intervened voluntarily, in order to soften the blow? In any case, it was he who wrote the following missive:

Duroc to Eugène, Landshut, 26 April 1809 My Lord, the Emperor, who is extremely busy, is unable to reply at the moment to the two letters from Your Imperial Highness. - These two letters have not satisfied His Majesty, in that they do not give him any details of what has happened to your army, of its position, of its losses, so that he cannot give you any advice on the best course of action for Your Highness to take. The Emperor says: It is nothing but a lost battle, and there is a remedy for that; but he cannot tell you what that remedy is, because he does not know where you are or what forces you have. His Majesty knows Italy and all the positions so well that from here he could tell you the best position you could take for your army.

I am not entirely sure if Eugène really did not know how to write a proper battle/situation report, or if he was being evasive on purpose. I kinda suspect the latter, and so do apparently most historians, assuming that Eugène did not want to admit what mistakes he had made. That may very well be the case, but, Eugène being Eugène, I could also imagine two more reasons: a) he wanted to protect his subordinates and not give Napoleon the opportunity to look for somebody to put the blame on (as Napoleon later would start to do with general Sahuc) and b) he on pupose gave away as few details as possible because he did not want Napoleon to start micromanaging the Army of Italy from his headquarters in Germany. After all, it was he, Eugène, who had created this mess. It was up to him now to sort things out.

In a circumstance such as the one in which you find yourself, and in general in all circumstances of war, it would have been preferable if you had sent an officer who had seen everything clearly and who could have given an account of everything to His Majesty. A courier says nothing, not even the little he is told. His Majesty would therefore have liked a detailed report, he would have liked Your Imperial Highness to have had General Caffarelli write at the same time. His Majesty sees with sorrow that you are concerned with the Tyrol, where there are only a few troops who have fomented insurrections; but all these insurrections will subside, and the troops who have entered there are turned and taken, if they do not evacuate, as soon as the Emperor's army arrives in Salzburg, which cannot be far off. Here, matters are still going well. [...]

Followed by lots of reports about Napoleon beating the Austrians at every occasion. Thanks for rubbing it in, Duroc! - So, just to summarize, Eugène’s greatest fault in Napoleon’s eyes was not the fact that he had lost the battle but that he was sending his reports about it via courrier or by the army post office, instead of sending one of the officers.

As to Tyrol, that part of the letter will not age well…

With no better information incoming over the next days, or rather, as a matter of fact, with pretty much no information reaching Napoleon, despite Eugène writing every second or third day – which may in part very well be because the insurrection in Tyrol had interrupted communications – His Imperial Impatience was fuming. And it showed in his letters. In the last (that luckily only reached Eugène when it didn’t matter anymore), he openly praised both Masséna (whom Eugène despised) and Murat (whom he possibly despised even more) to the skies, going so far as to order Eugène to call Murat from Naples and to cede supreme command to Murat. The ultimate humiliation!

At that time, however, the situation in Italy had already changed completely. After Napoleon had beaten the Austrians in Germany, the Austrian archduke Johann had been recalled by his brother. The Austrians were retreating from Italy rather hastily, and the Army of Italy was pursuing them. In this situation, Napoleon’s brutal missives were not helpful at all.

At least that was what the above mentioned general Caffarelli thought, the minister of war of the Kingdom of Italy. And because he thought so, he wrote to … nah, not to Napoleon, of course. You can’t just write to a monarch, after all. He wrote to - Duroc. And after a short description of the situation and the difficulties they had overcome, he states:

Caffarelli to Duroc, Venice, 7 May 1809 […] His Imperial Highness appeared to me to be greatly affected by the Emperor's discontent; he is extremely worried about it, the Prince suffers from it, and I could see that his grief comes more from his heart than from regret at having experienced an ill-fated affair. He needs to be reassured, because if he continues to believe that the Emperor is dissatisfied, he will suffer even more, he will torment himself and, despite the fine state in which His Majesty's victories have put matters, he might not be able to benefit as much as he could from the fine prospects open to him. He is in a position to repair, with interest, the harm he has suffered. […]

Ey! Can you not get him to back off a little? We’re in a good position and we need the boy functional, okay?

(Just to bring the story to an end: by the time Eugène had led his army through the Alps and reached Napoleon, his stepfather had already lost the battle of Aspern-Essling and had seen Lannes mortally wounded. Morale in his army was extremely low, and Napoleon’s tone when welcoming the Army of Italy was much different from that of his letters to Eugène.)

[ficsinhistory]

The weight of 2x05 - Pop

So, I'm watching The Bear again and watching the sixth episode of the second season is so, so difficult to the point of causing physical pain because it's the episode that makes clear that Carmy is self-sabotaging. Self-sabotaging because he still hasn't dealt with and resolved the trauma he still has, wanting to be a person he doesn't, self-sabotaging by getting into a relationship never wanted because that man definitely doesn't like Claire, and self-sabotaging specifically with Sydney (and the restaurant by extension).

See, there was no, no reason for him to be with Claire at that moment. Carmy knows how to drive. If he just wanted to help Nat, he'd drive to the post office and back to The Bear. But, he doesn't do that! Syd said they would talk after he got back and out of nowhere he calls Claire and spends the day away, which is unnecessary! You could argue that it would be because he wanted to set up a date and found a way but… the point is that he had already set up a date with Claire!

Transcript of episode 2x05 (POP): Carmy: Hey, hey. I, um, I know we were supposed to hang out later, but, um, I-I was wondering if you might want to take a drive to Winnetka with me instead.

And, do you know why he did that? Because this idiot knows, even if unconsciously, that something is going on. That there is something good happening. Something good with Syd happening. Carmy objectively knows that he likes spending time with Syd, that she is good for him, and that he has this admiration, kindness and softness always directed towards her. But, to be honest, he also knows on some level (even a shallow one) that it's not pure friendship. Carmy is an artist, a sensitive person, and even though he is emotionally stunted, he is not stupid… completely. But Syd and the whole idea of the restaurant that she, they created together, everything that this beautiful, intelligent woman represents, is new for him. It's different from anything he has ever experienced or witnessed in his life. Carmy has never dealt with such healthy situations and such a hopeful future. He has never fallen so much in love with someone he has so much in common. Someone who clearly respects him, admires him, helps him and makes him feel good and who, perhaps for the first time, he chose for himself.

He doesn't know how to deal, how to continue with so many unresolved situations that he still has and as doesn't have the courage to resolve yet, so he takes the easy way out. Carmy was born, raised and thrived in abusive situations. He was guided and raised his entire life by Mike as his biggest icon and reference, and he loved him despite everything that happened between them. The brother who Carmy still in mourning and has not resolved himself with his sudden departure, loss of fraternal relationship and this feeling that he has to honor and be proud. That's why Carmy tries to have a relationship with Claire, because that's what Mike wanted for him. It's the simplest path, where he doesn't change, where he doesn't need to make an effort because Claire does all this work for him and his brother would love them. No wonder Pop comes before Fishes. He follows what is familiar, what Mike would want, what he has been told is right. What was always repeated that would make him happy. Which manifests itself in the insistence of Fak and Richie since Mike died, and they were the closest to him and agreed with the older Berzatto's ideas. That's why he decides to basically run away from Syd when she goes after him to do something together. Like what happened in the episode when she wanted to discuss the menu and the cutlery, and he ducked the whole post office thing. And when Syd says, making it clear that she wouldn't let him get away with everything when he gets back, they would continue talking, Carmy calls Claire and finds a way to disappear for the entire day. And so Carmy takes a long, hard look at Fak before calling her.

That's why the episode ends by saying that Fak set everything up for Carmy after he returns to the restaurant and this dumbie decides that he's going to make the move to start this venture that Mike wanted him to try. Carmy never wanted Claire or this whole other persona he assumed, or at least tried to assume. But, he's too unresolved and a bit self-centered and cowardly to do anything about it, which ends up coming back to bite him and unfortunately Syd and the restaurant in the butt. And this ended up separating him from what he wanted and who he really wanted, with results bordering on disastrous. In S3 Carmy better sort herself out, because Syd can be patient, but she's already shown that she doesn't accept unhealthy situations forever. And then he may lose the things he once loved in life through no one's fault but himself.

[ashleyh713fanfics]

Dazai X Odasaku's Sister CH15 and CH16

Double Upload:

Chapter 15: "She's Not Like You"

Chapter 16: The Misfortune of Being Dazai's Girlfriend"

Summary: Chuuya has experienced the absolute displeasure of knowing who Dazai is firsthand. He is cruel, and selfish in everything he does with no capacity to care. So the boy is certainly surprised when he meets the demon's sweet and seemingly opposite girlfriend. But is it all a trick, or has the demon finally grown a heart?

Warnings: pm!sixteen year old dazai, pm!sixteen year old chuuya, suicide mentions, slight violence, manipulation on both sides, odasaku death mentions, dazai being a simp and a clingy baby boy, poor chuuya is lost, confused and tormented from all angles for most of this.

(This is chapter fifteen and sixteen of my fanfic "Timeless" which is now on A03. I'll link the master list below so you can get the full story. Asagao's ability is to stop time for up to six seconds.)

Master List Here

A03 Here

Work Count: 9k total

Chapter 15:

Chuuya was about to lose his mind.

It was a statement the ginger haired boy felt so clearly, his internal thoughts running rampant with a tap of his foot and the loud noisy jumble in the back of his head, stronger by the second. 

The sanity that he had desperately clinging to so desperately slipped away the more he looked at the ticking clock in front of him, mocking his very breath. And with that loss a new stronger emotion took its place. 

Fury, he was absolutely and positively furious. 

Although to be completely fair, this emotion wasn’t new at all. In fact, Chuuya realized that perhaps his past sentence wasn’t completely accurate either, considering he had felt like he had lost his mind years ago. 

He was never this angry before the port mafia. Sure, he had a temper that was established very early on during his time with the sheep but never before had Chuuya felt this sort of raging hatred before. It coursed through his veins by the second, wanting nothing but to scream it into the air. 

And he knew exactly where these emotions started, what sparked them in the first place. 

Just thinking his name brought a sense of enraged fury. 

Dazai Osamu. 

The boy he hated more than anyone else in the entire world, a slimy and manipulative brat that could get under his skin and make him crack over and over again. No, that shitty Dazai never failed to make him stir up the absolute worst parts of him for that fuckers own entertainment. 

And ever since Mori had made them partners, he had never known a day of peace.

 Today as well, it was the same as all the others, the boy crossing his arms with a furious shout as he realized the truth of the situation. Even after he called the idiot and threatened him it seemed that his words did nothing to change the outcome he had been trying to avoid. 

That sorry sack of shit, he ditched again. 

Yeah, you read that right. The mission that Chuuya had specifically told that bastard not to flake on and guess what he did? Absolutely fucking flaked. Their assignment wasn’t even that serious either. 

They had been ordered to attend a meeting with a smaller group that was tied to the port mafia and was stepping out of the line from their usual restrictions. It was going to be an easy job, just a quick threat and yet the bandaged boy couldn’t have the audacity to show his face. 

Which led to where Chuuya was now, his feet kicking a nearby trash can as his gravity ability crushed the metal pieces into nothing in order to hear his phone immediately go to voicemail for the hundredth time. 

That bandaged wearing waste of space, he was going to destroy him the next time he saw this pathetic stupid little face. Making him look like an idiot and showing up alone. No, this time he was going to pay for real. 

No one messed with Nakahara Chuuya and got away with it. 

Grumbling to himself, the ginger haired mafioso then stomped away from their meeting spot, knowing it would do no good. It was obvious that Dazai wasn’t going to turn up, he was four hours late as it was. No, he needed to take matters into his own hands. 

So instead, the boy slipped away from the shadowy edge of the building back to the mundane bustling of the city just a couple feet away, his body blending in with the hoards of naive and frivolous civilians around him. 

There was something about the sight that made his shoulders tense though, never liking the oblivious and carefree looks on their faces. He never fit in with them, not even during his time with the sheep, and though he could try to blend in it was obvious that Chuuya didn’t mix into their world at all. 

He was a mafioso after all, a brutal gravity manipulator that only saw death and destruction while the people around him never had the misfortune of witnessing such a sight. They were pure and clean, separate from the dark cruel world of the underground.

And that’s how it needed to stay, the two sides separate, always parallel but never touching. It was safer that way, the distance kept them safe, secluded in their little bubble of self made security. He didn’t belong with the mundane and they didn’t belong with him, ever. 

Sighing heavily, the sixteen year old boy then moved past a small family in front of him only to feel his feet glue to the very spot he was standing in order for his mouth to hang open with furious shock.

No, it couldn’t be. There was no fucking way. 

Because sitting in a booth in a small restaurant across the street from their meeting spot was the very bane of his existence, the boy’s lips curved upwards in a mocking smirk from the large bay window as Chuuya felt his blood boil immediately. 

Dazai was here? And not only that, he was sitting down at some no named establishment having the time of his life while the ginger waited four hours for absolutely no reason at all?!

And the way he was seated, it was like the kid wanted Chuuya to find him, his body clearly visible from the extremely large clear glass window and from the streets as he chatted away with another stranger that was just out of view. 

That bastard, he wasn’t that stupid, he must've done this on purpose. That was the only solution. He knew that Chuuya would pass by here, that he would’ve gotten sick of waiting for him and left to find him like this. He had to, or else Dazai would’ve done a better job of hiding. 

Just the idea made him seethe in uncontrollable rage.

Oh no, he was not going to get away with this. He couldn’t just screw him over like this and rub it in his face. No, he was going to drag that sorry kid back to the meeting spot and beat him to hell for ever thinking he could fuck with him like that. 

So much so, Chuuya felt his feet move on their own, his mind focused on nothing but his own fury as he stormed across the street and into the small cafe before grabbing hold of Dazai’s wrist in order to pull him back outside. 

The bandaged menace didn’t object surprisingly, allowing the very angry ginger to pull him into the nearby alley before he felt his body get slammed against the wall. “You bastard, what the hell do you think you’re doing?! I told you that if you ditched our mission again you’d regret screwing with me.” 

Dazai wasn’t bothered though, his lips turning in fake thought before shrugging his shoulders casually. “Oh, that was today? I didn’t even realize it. Sorry Chibi, I guess you’re just too insignificant in my mind to remember anything you say.”  

His response made Chuuya see red, sensing the bullshit immediately. Sure, maybe to an ignorant stranger his words would’ve made sense but the ginger had the unfortunate displeasure of knowing this bastard for over a year now. 

And nothing he just said made any sense. “Don’t fuck with me, you know damn well it was today. Why else would you be sitting directly across the street mocking me? I know you’re game, Dazai. You picked that spot cause you knew I’d see you.” 

Dazai seemed to blink back in response at that, his lips curving up into something far more devious before dropping his previous innocent act. “Huh, maybe my stupid little mutt isn’t as stupid after all..” 

And though he was right about his game, Chuuya felt no satisfaction of winning, the boy tightening his hold on Dazai in order to throw his fist back with a screaming shout. 

There it was, that stupid dog talk again, he was goddamn sick of it. “I told you not to..!!”

Yet that’s when the bandaged boy simply raised his hands up to his chest, Dazai’s voice just as condescending as usual. “Chuuya please, not so violent in front of our guest.” 

Then all at once, Chuuya felt his hand pause, still reeling backwards in order for him to blink in confusion. What the hell was this guy talking about? It had to be another joke right? Another reason to get him to wiggle out of his wraith. 

Yet even so, the boy questioned. “Guest?” 

Dazai only nodded though, using his defensive hand to point behind his seething partner as Chuuya followed his direction in order to turn around in a huff. 

And there she was, just like Dazai had said. A strange auburn haired female staring back at him, the balls of her feet rocking back and forth in some sort of giddy excitement the moment he acknowledged her. 

 Who the hell was this, another threat? And why hadn’t he sensed her until now? Could it be that he was too wrapped up in his own furious rage that he had gotten this sloppy? 

But once his eyes adjusted, he couldn’t find any type of threat. In fact, she looked as innocent and naive as they came, the girl wearing a teal turquoise colored princess dress that fluffed out by her knees with a matching colored bow that tied her hair neatly back. 

That along with a pair of large glasses covering the entirety of her eyes. 

In fact, it was so off putting that the bright colors of her outfit contrasted the dark and gloomy alley walls when she moved, creating a dissonance between the grimy streets and soft gentle aura she displayed. 

And something about her seemed familiar, like an odd case of deja vu.  

Yet before he could question anything about her, the strange girl only gasped before racing up to him in order to take his gloved hand and shake it erratically “Hiii, I’m so excited to see you again! Oh wow, it’s like a dream come true, really.” 

Her moves were hasty, causing Chuuya’s arm to immediately go numb and pull back with guarded resolve. She didn’t seem dangerous but that didn’t mean anything. He knew better than to take her fangirl attitude at face value. 

Hold on, she said that they had met before. That was strange, the boy unable to place her face to his memory, although her attitude did seem vaguely familiar from somewhere. But where?

Taking a step back in discomfort, Chuuya raised a skeptical eye. “Uhh do I know you?” 

The girl seemed confused for a quick second before she immediately brightened back up in order to slap a hand over her face. “Oh, right! Last time we met was like a year ago so I’m sure you don’t remember me. Silly me, getting ahead of myself. I do that a lot. Oops..” 

She then began to ramble, her words far too jumbled for the poor boy to understand before the girl seemed to catch herself in a soft girlish giggle. “Where was I? Oh yeah, anyways it was great! You hit me in the face and then apologized and then stopped my nose from bleeding all over the place. I think about it all the time, how nice you were back then..” 

Chuuya felt the words sink in ever so slowly, the meaning of them bringing a strange sort of deja vu. Hitting a girl in the face..stopping her nose bleed..apologizing..now why did that sound familiar?

Hold on. 

Just then, his eyes began to widen in realization. Wait, he did remember that. This was the strange weird girl that he had met back in his apartment building, wasn’t it? No wonder why her odd behavior seemed familiar. She was just as bizarre as before. 

Seemed like nothing had changed at all from a year ago. 

Pointing a finger in accusation, Chuuya shouted back in disbelief. “You..” 

The girl, what was her name again? 

Oh yeah, Asagao. 

Asagao only clapped her hands though, unable to hold in her pure joy in her sparkling little eyes as she skipped up to him happily. “Yes, it’s me! Ah, you do remember me! That makes me so happy, Chu Chu!” 

Almost immediately, he felt his throat groan in memory. That’s right, she called him that stupid nickname before he left and wasn’t able to correct her. “It’s Chuuya, say it right, and why are you even here?” 

That was the question, wasn’t it? Why was this strange girl in front of him? It’s like she had materialized from thin air without warning, both last year and right now. She said she wasn’t port mafia but was that really true? He wasn’t sure. 

Asa’s eyes only lit up with recognition though, smiling softly in reply. “Oh, that’s easy. I’m on a date with my boyfriend.” 

At that, Chuuya felt himself pause. “Boyfriend..who..?” 

The girl only laughed though, the sound light and airy as she pointed to the spot behind him with obvious conviction. “Silly goose, he’s right behind you.” 

What the hell was she saying? There wasn’t anyone behind him except for..

Whipping his head around in question, Chuuya’s wild eyes wander around the alley only to find Dazai staring back at him wordlessly. But even so, the boy couldn’t process that reality, his head looking past the boy with confusion. 

There had to be someone else, anyone else she was referring to. 

But sadly, the rest of the alleyway was empty, leaving his heart to drop with dread and lingering concern. No, it couldn’t be. She was messing with him. There was no way. 

Feeling his brain malfunction, Chuuya then turned back to the waiting girl before shaking his head to will away the thought. “Nice try, there’s no one there expect..” 

He couldn’t even finish the sentence, the reality too horrifying and sickening for him to comprehend. This sweet innocent civilian, there was no way she was wrapped up with a sick fuck like Dazai. 

Feeling his head turn from the smiling girl and back Dazai about a dozen times, poor Chuuya desperately looked for another solution, anything then what was in front of him right now. 

But with nothing to ground himself, Chuuya couldn’t help but stutter. “H-Hold on, wait a damn second, you said you were with some guy named Osu.” 

Although that’s when he watched Asagao simply step past him in order to wrap her hands around the bandaged mafioso’s forearm before leaning into the man he hated more than anything and nodding casually. “Yeah, Dazai Osamu.” 

Then all at once, Chuuya felt his entire world explode. 

Red hot heat suddenly burst into the boy’s entire face, his head reeling and spinning with horror as the poor mafioso jumped back in a ragging shout. “W-WHAT?! There’s no fucking way, you’re kidding right? You’re not seriously his...” 

Yet before he could finish the sentence, Dazai’s slimy little bandaged arms shifted around in order to wrap them around Asa’s mid section and push her against his cheek with a mocking pout. “What’s wrong, Chuuya? Jealous I got a hold of this lovely little lady and made her my girlfriend before you could?” 

Dazai’s words didn’t help his flustered expression though, Chuuya’s mind running at a mile a minute as he tried to process the new information. “J-Jealous?! Why would I be? I just..I just don’t understand. What’s wrong with you?” 

Pointing a finger towards the girl in question, Asa only waved his concern away, laughing at the seriousness of it. “Ah, that’s a loaded question, Chu Chu. We would need all day for that.” 

She was treating all this as a joke, but Chuuya didn’t find any of it funny. What the hell was she thinking, letting someone as evil and awful as Dazai control her like this? This was worse than he thought. He had to knock some sense into her. 

Shaking his head, his finger then shifted towards Dazai. “No, I mean it. Out of everyone in the world, why would you ever pick..god I can’t even say it..I think I’m gonna be sick..” 

He only watched her bat her eyes in pure innocence though, not understanding his reaction in the slightest. “Why wouldn’t I? Samu is great. He’s sweet and kind and wonderful. He’s the best boyfriend I could ever ask for!”  

Sweet, kind, wonderful? No, there was no way in hell Dazai and those words fit together in the same sentence. This was the same man that had terrorized him every single day since they forcibly became partners. This girl must’ve had a screw loose in her brain in order to think such a ridiculous statement. 

 Dazai only hummed though, obviously enjoying the distraught and disgusted look on his face in order to tighten his hold about his girlfriend’s waist and pull her even closer to him. “Aww, you flatter me, love. You’re not half bad either. In fact, I think those sweet little lips of yours are pretty great also.” 

It didn’t matter if the two weren’t involved like that, Chuuya didn’t know the difference, the boy only thinking the absolute worst from his statement as his brain began to continue to malfunction. “B-But that’s not..he’s not…” 

Luckily for him though, Asa cut off his spiral, her body detaching from Dazai’s in order to skip up to him happily. “Oh, I know! Since you’re not busy anymore why don’t you hang out with us, Chu Chu? I would love to chat and get to know you some more. That is, if you wanted to?”

That sounded like the worst idea in the entire world, the boy finally answering in a complete and coherent thought because of how ridiculous it was. “Why would I ever want to hang out with that sack of shit?”

Asagao only lifted her hands up in response though, that same idiotic grin still on her face. “Because we are celebrating my birthday, and I would love it if we could become friends. Then that would make the day even more wonderful!” 

At that, Chuuya couldn’t help but pause. “Your birthday?” 

Giving another girl-ish cute giggle under her breath, Asa then nodded her head happily before spinning around in a little circle, her skirt swishing with each word. “Yeah! Well, sort of. It’s a long story. I’m making up for lost time. Oh! But Samu got me this pretty fluffy princess dress for the occasion. Doesn't it look cute?” 

And because of her erratic movements, his eyes had no choice but to move towards the brightly colored fabric before another wave of embarrassment moved to his cheeks. What was he even supposed to say to that? Compliments weren't his thing. 

But even still he tried, noticing the hopeful look she was giving him. “Y-Yeah..I guess..” 

His flustered blush was not lost on Dazai though, the bandaged boy narrowing his eyes before reaching forward in order to pull his girl back into his arms with a huff. “Oh look, the doggie is blushing. Careful Asa-chan, don’t stand so close. Chuuya here is a pervert.” 

Feeling his voice raise immediately, the ginger haired boy willed the embarrassment away in order to cover it with an emotion he knew far too well. Anger. “W-What, I am not! She asked me! What else was I supposed to say?!” 

Dazai then shrugged his shoulders in response, his head purposely plopping on top of Asa’s left shoulder before humming absentmindedly in order to play with a loose strand of her auburn hair. “I don’t knowww, seems like an excuse to me. Sounds like something a pervert would say to deny it.” 

The executive then pushed Asa backwards by his arms, the bandaged skin wrapping tightly around her waist like Chuuya was some sort of stranger danger he needed to protect her from. 

Which was absolutely ridiculous considering the poor ginger haired boy didn’t do anything to warrant such a response. This idiot, just what was he accusing him of?! He was getting more and more pissed off by the second. 

Pushing his hands into a ball, Chuuya felt his throat strain with fury in order to shout back roughly. “Shut up, I already told you it’s not like that! Besides, you’re one to talk. You’re the one that’s always saying disgusting shit offhandedly like a dumb ass.”  

I mean seriously, why was shitty Dazai even suggesting such a thing when he constantly told Chuuya about how he was playing with women. Pinning them down, having his hands full, entertaining his time, those were just some of the sick comments he had made. 

Hold on, when he was saying all that stuff, he wasn’t talking about Asagao, right? He hoped not, she was too sweet and naive to be in that kind of situation, and for his sanity the ginger brushed the idea off. 

Dazai only pouted his lips though, a look of disbelief in his uncovered eye. “Chuuya! Are you saying that you don’t think my girlfriend is cute?” 

Although that’s when he watched Asa gasp as well, her voice turned shaky and uncertain as she turned back to Chuuya with a newly depressed tone. “W-What? You don’t think I look cute…?” 

And just like that, all the insults and saved up responses he had in his mind disappeared completely, the brutal mafioso completely at a loss for the seemingly upset civilian before him. Damn it, why did she have to look so sad? 

Not knowing how to respond, Chuuya quickly put his hands out, desperately to stop her tears and the depressed air that he had unknowingly caused. “N-No, I didn’t..that’s not what I…”

But very quickly, the boy realized that he couldn’t win. Either way, Dazai would criticize his answer, causing the ginger haired kid to quickly groan in order to pull on his hair with growing stress and anxiety.

And the cocky ass look from Dazai didn’t help as well, almost like he knew how unraveled his partner was becoming by the second. That bastard, he was making him insane.  “Ahhh just shut up!!” 

He then heard that no good bandage wearing waste of space laugh at his misery, confirming Chuuya’s theory almost instantly. He was fucking with him on purpose to gain a reaction, and he had lost yet again. Damn it. 

Yet that’s when he watched Asagao reach forward in order to plop a hand on top of Dazai’s head, his chin still firmly resting against her shoulder comfortably. “Now Samu, take it easy on Chu Chu. He hasn’t even answered my question yet.” 

Dazai then grumbled in response as Asa’s hand moved down to the death grip on her wrist in order to tap her pointer finger onto his bandages in some sort of hidden code before the boy reluctantly let go. 

Moving his fingers from his messy ginger hair, Chuuya then paused his breakdown in order to find the girl standing a few feet away from him, her hand immediately grabbing his with a small smile. “So what do you say, will you come celebrate my birthday with me?” 

Her question was absolutely insane considering the hell he had just been put through. It didn’t matter how sweet and nice this random girl was, there was no way he was going to spend the entire day with a demon like Dazai. Over his dead body. 

But how could he tell her that? She was looking at him so hopefully, even though he was sure that this Asa girl didn’t even know who he was. “Listen I don’t think..” 

Yet before he could finish, Asagao reached down in order to grab his other gloved hand, holding both of them up with a small squeeze. “Please say you’ll come! I would really love it if you were there. I just know we could be great friends!” 

But Chuuya knew the only reason she wanted him to come was because she didn’t know about his mafia lifestyle. Yes, he had asked her about the port mafia when they first met but there was no way she could know about the bloody and brutal life he lived. 

Dazai probably kept her in the dark. That was the only solution. 

Because if she did know then there was no way any sane person would ever act this way. He murdered people and she was just holding his hands like nothing.  “Now hold on, I didn’t say yes..”

Asagao only leaned closer though, Chuuya catching the vague blue of her eyes behind her glasses. “But you’re thinking about it, right?”

Her pushy nature was starting to irritate him though. Why couldn’t she just shut up and let him finish? Instead she was putting words in his mouth, making him guilty for turning her down.

Because of that, Chuuya felt a bit of his temper seep out, ripping his hands away from her hold in order to take a step back with a bitter scoff. “Cut it out, I didn’t say that either!” 

Although that’s when he watched Asagao’s face fall for a second, her shoulders slumping back down just like before in order for her to sadly chuckle under her breath. “Oh..I’m getting ahead of myself again, aren’t I? Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. It’s just this is my first birthday in Yokohama with someone to share it with and I got carried away. All the others were so lonely before, but I understand if you’re busy…” 

Widening his eyes, Chuuya then felt his heart twist inside his chest with a guilty pang. 

Ah shit, now he felt like an asshole. She sounded so sad saying that. But how was he supposed to know that she was lonely, that she didn’t have any friends or anyone to share her birthday with? Damn it. How could he possibly deny her after that? 

And even though the last thing he wanted to do was spend time with shitty Dazai, the boy knew he could manage at least an hour or so. He guessed. Anything to make the guilt in his chest go away. 

Grumbling to himself with silent defeat, Chuuya then sighed before scratching the back of his head awkwardly, his voice slightly uncomfortable. “Fine. I’ll stay, just don’t make that face.” 

Then, like a light switch, Asagao seemingly jumped back to life, almost like her past sadness was fabricated completely in order to get what she wanted. “Wait, really?! Did you hear that Osu, he’s gonna stay! Ah, this is the best day ever!” 

Feeling immediately whiplashed, Chuuya then stood dumbfounded before feeling Asagao’s giddy and frantic arms wrap around his waist in a sloppy hug before jumping up and down once, shaking the boy completely. 

Hold on, why did he feel like he just got played? 

No, that couldn’t be. He had to be imagining it. He was just spending too much time with Dazai. That’s why her actions felt off. Stupid bastard was messing with his psyche now. Just great. 

Asagao then gasped before immediately letting go, almost as if her brain seemingly remembered some other random thought. “Well, what are you waiting for, let’s get going! I got lots of stuff I wanna do.” 

Clapping her hands together, the girl then turned around sharply, her steps quick and confident before she completely missed the door to the left in order to slam her entire face into the brick wall next to her as Chuuya gasped in horror. 

Shit, that looked like it really hurt. “...are you okay?” 

Asa only stepped back before rubbing her face once though, a goofy unbothered look still on her face in order to pat the brick with understanding. “Oh, yeah! I’m great. I just thought the door was closer than that ha ha ha.” 

Suddenly Chuuya couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja vu, recalling their first meeting. Damn, she wasn’t kidding when she said she had shitty eyesight. 

How did she ever get anywhere like that? Weren’t those glasses supposed to help? Great, now he was even more concerned about her. 

Lifting up his hand to help her, the girl simply stepped away from it, Asa’s hand finding the doorknob in order to enter back into the cafe as Chuuya watched completely and utterly dumbfounded. That girl was something else. 

He didn’t think he’d ever met someone like her before. So strange and odd yet so gentle and kind at the same time. He didn’t know what to make of her at all. And for some reason, one interaction with her had left him completely winded and exhausted, like he had just ran a marathon. 

Now that he mentioned it, he felt like that the last time they had met also. Completely and utterly drained of all energy. 

Giving out a heavy sigh at the feeling, Chuuya then turned around back to Dazai before a wave of displeasure washed over him. He couldn’t talk about this while Asa was around but now that she was gone he wanted answers. 

This cocky son of a bitch, he had to have some sort of underhanded motive for keeping a girl like her around, and he was going to find out what. “What the hell is your game?” 

Dazai only batted his uncovered eye with fake innocence though, something that made Chuuya feel sick. “Game? I don’t know what you mean.” 

He was lying, it was obvious, which meant he was using that poor girl for something. “Don’t fuck with me. That girl, you can’t be serious, right?” 

The only thing he received though was a cocky ass smirk, the bandaged boy stepping closer with a dark gleam in the corner of his eye. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Chuuya.” 

And sure, Dazai was right in a sense. He didn’t really care about the types of women he kept around but he felt bad for Asagao, so much so that seeing a pure soul with someone like Dazai didn’t feel right. This kid would only make her cry, that was practically a guarantee. 

And call him weak or whatever but Chuuya didn’t want to see that kind of result for her. 

She was so different from them after all, it was practically obvious to tell from that one tiny interaction. Dazai and him had murdered, tortured and committed thousands of crimes. 

She didn't need to be around that. She didn’t deserve to have that light around her die like theirs had. “It becomes my business when you drag innocent civilians like her into danger just because you think it would be funny to watch.” 

And he was sure that Dazai saw this as some kind of sick game, that he was relishing in the corruption of this girl between his fingers but Chuuya didn’t agree with that ideology. The two worlds needed to be separate and this idiot was mixing what shouldn’t be mixed. 

Although something about his warning seemed to bring the boy amusement, Dazai’s lips curving up into a scoff as he whispered the words on his tongue. “Civilians like her, huh? What a dense word choice..” 

Yet before he could question it, the boy covered his comment with another, his tongue licking his lips in some sort of depraved manner. “You’re right Chibi, she is quite fun. In fact, she’s the most fun I’ve had in years.” 

Chuuya felt himself cringe in disgust at that, not warning to know what he was implying. “I mean it, shitty Dazai. Stop manipulating her. She’s not like you.” 

Once again though, Dazai only snorted, his lips carrying an ominous air to them as he chuckled under his breath to Chuuya’s dismay. What kind of reaction was that?

Taking a threatening step forward, the ginger haired boy narrowed his eyes, not understanding the joke. “What’s so damn funny about that?” 

The air was silent then, Chuuya watching as Dazai simply turned away from him in order to open the door back to the cafe with a small shake of his head. “I take back what I said, you’re still stupid.” 

At that, the boy felt himself grow livid, his head reeling with anger in frustration in order to snap back to Dazai with a shout. “W-What? What the hell does that mean?!” 

Dazai only paused in the doorway though, his hand moving towards the frame before looking back towards his idiot partner with a cocky knowing smirk, the ginger’s words playing in his ear in an amusing loop. 

She’s not like you. 

Oh how wrong poor little Chuuya was. 

And Dazai couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he realized it. 

Tilting his head to the side, Dazai then finished cryptically, a chill running up Chuuya’s spine as he unknowingly took in every single word with dread. 

“That’s for you to find out.” 

-----

Chapter 16:

Feeling even more drained than before, Chuuya took a couple more moments alone before finally deciding to enter the back door of the cafe with an anxious weighted sigh of frustration. 

He had absolutely no idea what Dazai had meant back in that alleyway but not knowing was honestly pissing him off even more. Whatever it was though, it didn’t sound good, almost like the boy was mocking his inability to see something that was in front of his face. 

But what didn’t he understand? Things looked pretty clear to him. 

And that was that this strange girl was in danger, in multiple horrifying ways. 

The first was Dazai obviously, that was the most blatant one. It was almost a guarantee in his mind that the loser didn’t care about her and was only using her for some sort of selfish purpose. 

Because that’s just how Dazai was. He was unapologetically cruel and inhumane. He did things for sheer entertainment even if the other party was desecrated in the process. 

And Chuuya knew that firsthand, considering he had the unfortunate displeasure of being on both the receiving and spectating sides. 

He comprehended the bastard so well, more than he ever wanted to in the first place, and because of that, Chuuya also knew that Dazai didn’t have the capacity to keep someone around without it having a benefit to him. 

But the question was, what was Asagao’s benefit to a demon like Dazai? What was the reason he kept her around? Was it merely for some sick kick or was it something that Chuuya wasn’t seeing? 

Because his interactions with that girl thus far had been as innocent as they came. Sure, she was weird and kind of strange but that’s about it. Dazai never bothered with civilians before so what made her so special? Or was the girl just a fly caught in a deceptive and manipulative web? He didn’t know. 

But the second reason she was in danger was possibly even worse than the first. Because if Dazai did hypothetically care about this girl, which was highly unlikely but Chuuya could play devil's advocate, then he had to know that just being out like this was putting her at risk to be hurt, kidnapped or even tortured by his enemies. 

The guy was an executive after all, Mori’s right hand man and he had made a million enemies during his time in the port mafia. He knew Dazai wasn’t an idiot so he must have known that attaching himself to such a weak and helpless girl would make her a target in an instant. 

That’s why Chuuya never tried or even toyed with the idea of dating, because he knew that any partner he gained would be in constant peril, and that was something the ginger haired boy couldn’t stomach. 

But here was Dazai, bringing his girlfriend out in public, pushing themselves in with hoards of people and letting her roam alone when he knew damn well the risk that was waiting around every corner. 

That made Chuuya’s first theory seem more plausible. He had to just be fucking around, because there was no way anyone would ever do what he was doing to a loved one. They would protect a partner, not make them balance on a line between safety and the instability of life.   

But either way, whichever it turned out to be, Chuuya was going to find out. 

Because if she really was in danger the ginger knew he had to get her out of it. Dazai would never come to her aid, he would never let her go so now it was up to him. 

Over his dead body would he ever allow a moral and pure person like her to be corrupted so brutally. No, he would stop it before that slimy bandaged prick could even try. 

Giving another full body sigh, Chuuya then turned the corner only to come out of his thoughts as he watched Asagao brighten up at his presence, her hand waving wildly from across the cafe in order to slightly bounce off her seat. “Chu Chu, over here! We got you a seat!”  

Almost immediately, a wave of disgust poured into his throat at her given nickname, the port mafia member reluctantly noticing the long empty booth in the corner as Dazai and Asagao sat together on the opposite side by the large window. 

Making his way over to her in order to slide into the empty booth with a groan, he got down to business. First things first, that name had to go. “Listen, if I’m gonna stay then you need to cut it out with that name already.” 

At first he thought she used it by accident but very quickly it was apparent that wasn’t the case. She was doing it on purpose, evading his actual name for a cute-sy replacement and he was sick of it. 

Asagao only turned her head though. “Aww really? But I think it’s cute.” 

Dazai then nodded in agreement before slinging an arm around her shoulder in order to pull her closer with a mocking reply. “Yeah Chu Chu, lighten up already. I’d say it’s growing on me too.” 

But that just made the situation even worse, the boy feeling his temper rise by the second. “Oh god, don’t you dare start. It’s not cute, it’s fucking annoying. I hate it.” 

And that seemed to be new information for Asa. “You really hate it?” 

Slamming his hands on the table, he replied. “Yes! It’s the worst nickname I’ve ever heard. Just call me by my name if you wanna talk to me, will you? It’s not that hard.” 

He then watched Asa pause for a second, seemingly taking in his words before her eyes flashed with something different, something that Chuuya couldn’t put his finger on. “Okay, I understand. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call you that without permission. I promise I won’t say it anymore until you agree to it.” 

Chuuya only scoffed though, firm in his beliefs. “Yeah well, like hell that’s ever gonna happen so you better get used to just using my actual name instead.” 

Asa then smiled, the corners not reaching the tips of her cheeks in order to close her eyes with some sort of unknown acceptance. “Okay, Chuuya. I understand.” 

Good, she probably realized that this was a challenge that was impossible to beat, that’s why she was giving up so easily. Well, that was easy enough. Usually he’d have to fight someone on his decision more. How strange and refreshing. 

Dazai on the other hand only pouted his lips, tapping his fingers playfully on the table. “Aww Chuuya’s such a party pooper. He doesn’t let me say any of his nicknames either. Doesn’t stop me ignoring it. I say to do it anyway. It’s funny to watch him explode, trust me.” 

Glaring in the direction of the boy, Chuuya grumbled only for Asagao to lift a hand up and touch his bandaged wrist gently. “No, it’s okay. I went overboard anyways. If I want us to be friends then I have to listen and respect his wishes.” 

Her words were so kind and mindful, causing the ginger haired boy to blink in disbelief. Damn, when was the last time someone was so careful of his requests? Did she really want to be friends with him that badly? But why, he wasn’t anyone special. 

So much so, the boy couldn’t help to voice his question, desperate to know the answer. “Hey so uhh how did you even get involved with shitty Dazai in the first place? I mean you are way better than him. Why settle?” 

The bluntness of his question didn’t shake the girl though, her fingers tracing an invisible line down Osamu’s bandaged wrist as he watched her quietly. “I don’t see it as settling at all. Osamu is the only person I value more than anyone else in the world. The connection I have to him can’t be explained in words.” 

Huh, that was strange. Her response was so personal and yet so vague, something that Chuuya couldn't comprehend in the slighest. What did that even mean? And how could she value an awful person like Dazai so wholeheartedly? There had to be something he was missing. 

But before he got the chance, Osamu gasped over dramatically in order to flop his head on her shoulder and nuzzle into her neck in order to wrap his arms around her chest in a suffocating hug. “Aww Asa-chan! You’re too precious and adorable! Hey Chuuya, isn’t my girlfriend just the best?! I don’t know how I got so lucky to be even near the presence of an angel like her!” 

Asagao only accepted her “death by hug” though, the girl smiling lovingly under the suffocation but not returning the gesture which Chuuya found odd. If she was that happy by his touch then why wasn’t she returning it? 

It was like they had some sort of unspoken rule about it or something. 

Sighing to himself, Chuuya then grumbled under his breath, the response mostly to himself then the love birds across from him. “I have no idea. If you ask me she’s too good for a suicidal bastard like you.” 

If the two heard his comment though, they didn’t acknowledge it, Asagao simply closing her eyes in order to smile softly under Osamu’s firm embrace. “Ahh, me too Osamu. I also feel lucky. In fact, today is such a wonderful day to be alive, don’t you think?” 

Pulling away just slightly, Dazai then wrinkled his nose in disgust like she had just uttered something completely outrageous. “Don’t know, it feels the same like every other pointless day to me.” 

His depressing comment only made her silently contemplate the thought though, Chuuya watching her as she shifted back from the boy in order to gaze towards the open window in some sort of understanding. 

Then after a moment, she answered, her eyes distantly not connecting to the bustling crowds just past the glass barrier around her vision. “Hmm, well I’d like to think it’s at least a little different. Feels better that way, you know?” 

Chuuya didn’t fully get her response though, sensing the dissonance between the two immediately and calling her out on it. “What does that even mean?” 

Asagao then glanced back at the ginger haired mafioso before lifting her fingers up to her glasses in order to push up the surface. “Oh uhhh I just think it’s better to think about the possibilities that the world can offer. I mean if you go in with a good attitude then even the most evil things can’t really be all that bad, right?” 

Chuuya only scoffed at her sugar coated response though, throwing it away immediately. Sure, it was a nice sentiment to be so positive about things but he had seen firsthand the depravity and horrors that the world could offer by being in the underground back alleys his entire life. 

And her thought process was naive at best, knowing it would only cause destruction in the end. “That stupid thinking is just gonna get you disappointed when you’re wrong.” 

Asagao didn’t seem shaken by his rough response, almost as if she had already expected him to say something like that. “Maybe, but someone has to believe in the impossible outcomes, otherwise none of them will ever come true.” 

Her words were surprising, a complete contrast to the dark and pointless ideology that he had heard Dazai utter time and time again. Could these two really mix well together with such opposite views? That guy only saw death while she saw the life that bloomed from possibilities around her. 

And even though she knew that it may lead to disappointment down the road, she simply didn’t care, still choosing to believe in the best path even when the cobblestone was lined with only dead ends. 

How strange, putting so much faith in an unstable and cruel world like theirs. 

Hold on, was that why she stuck by an awful boy like Dazai this long, was it because of her inability to connect the red flags and danger in her mind? Suddenly things were starting to make more sense, why she could stomach such an insufferable bastard like him. 

Wait, did Dazai know this also, was that how he was taking advantage of her? 

It had to be, because why else would a demon like that guy ever care about a creature like her, so full of life and sparks of mortality, especially when he only wished for the absolute opposite. 

Yet before he could say anything else, the waitress came over in order to drop off a tray of tiny desserts at their table in order for Asagao to audibly gasp in joy. “Ah, it’s here! Dig in, everyone! I got a sampler tray for us cause I wasn’t sure what kind of sweets you like Chuuya. I hope there is something in here that looks good to you.” 

Looking down at the brightly colored desserts, Chuuya then surveyed the options with silent conjecture. He was never really a sweets kind of guy but it seemed rude to turn down the offer, especially considering she was so thoughtful in picking something he might like. 

And on her birthday no less. She was still thinking about everyone else around her first. How sweet. 

The boy then picked out a simple strawberry fruit parfait with silent acceptance as Asagao grabbed a chocolate coated cake before Dazai took a piece from her dessert in order to shove it into his mouth with a gasp. 

Leaning over to him with anticipation, Asa replied. “Well, what do you think? Is it good?” 

Dazai then smiled to himself in order to turn towards the girl and place his fingers onto her jaw and pull her forward with a knowing hum. “I don’t know, why don’t you try it, love? Here, let me..” 

Lifting the fork up in her direction, the mafia executive then pressed his fingers further into her cheeks, causing her jaw to open and her lips to part in order for Dazai to sensually speak back. “Now open those pretty pink lips of yours for me, darling and say ahh..” 

Chuuya then watched in stunned silence as Dazai pushed the fork into her mouth, feeding the girl like some sort of baby bird as Asa happily accepted the bite. 

Just what the fuck is wrong with them? Dazai he expected but he would’ve thought the girl would’ve turned down that kind of embarrassing pda, especially when they were near that huge ass glass window leading to the street. Did they really have no shame? 

What a couple of freaks. Get a room. 

Watching her eyes practically sparkle in response, Asa immediately licked her lips from the chocolatey taste in order to speak casually like nothing was out of the ordinary. “Wow, that is good! Thanks Samu!” 

Chuuya then resisted the urge to cringe as the girl then turned her eyes over him in order to catch him staring. “Oh, sorry Chuuya. Do you want some too? It’s really good, I promise..” 

Almost immediately, the boy put his hands up, already feeling slightly embarrassed by the display he had just witnessed. “No way, especially not after you got your germs on it.” 

Dazai then smirked to himself in order to pick up the fork once and wiggle across the table in Chuuya’s face. “Aww come on Chuuya! You want me to feed you too? Come here, I’ll give you a nice big bite!!” 

Feeling himself back away in absolute disgust and horror, the boy quickly shook his head. No way was he gonna let this idiot do that. He’d probably shove that cake down his throat and make him choke to death on it. “Back off, shitty Dazai! Don’t you fucking dare!!” 

Already placing his hands on the table in a mock attack, the bandaged boy turned his head in a challenge. “What’s the matter, Chibi? You were so intent on watching us. I thought you wanted a turn.” 

Chuuya could only stutter back, denying whatever the guy was implying. “That’s only because you two are in front of my fucking face. I had no choice, you freak!” 

Shrugging his shoulders in response, Dazai replied mockingly. “I don’t know. To me it just sounds like more evidence that you’re a pervert.” 

Almost immediately, Chuuya felt his face turn red. Not this again. Dazai was making him look bad for no damn reason. Obviously it wasn’t like that. “Will you quit it with that! I said I’m not a..!!” 

Yet his enemy only cut him off, placing his hands over his lips in a makeshift microphone in order to raise his voice to the entire cafe as he sang loudly. “Hey everyone, did you hear that? Chuuya’s a pervert, Chuuya’s a big fat pervert!” 

Slamming his hands on the table, Chuuya then lifted his body fully off the seat, the red ominous glow of his ability outlining his frame as he thought of all the ways to beat the shit out of the kid in front of him. 

Anything to make him shut his goddamn mouth. “Why you..!!” 

Yet before he had the chance to do so, both Dazai and Chuuya were halted when he heard a fit of laughter next to them, the two boys turning in order to find Asagao physically holding her stomach as tears pricked the corners of her ears as she tried to breathe. 

They seemed dumbfounded at that, the kid’s silent as Asa simply wiped a stray tear away in order to put a hand up in apology. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m just so happy. I’ve never experienced anything this lively before. It’s so different from my other birthdays. It’s great, really..” 

She seemed genuinely happy about their bickering, like the loud and rambunctious air was music to her ears which concerned Chuuya more than anything. Who in the hell liked yelling and arguing? He was right, there was something wrong with her. 

But Dazai seemed to understand more about her sentence, the boy sliding back down in his seat in order to place a warm hand to her head in absolute silence as she tried to desperately quell her laughter.    

And although their interaction was completely wordless, even Chuuya could sense some kind of hidden meaning to it. Like they were reading each other's minds. Weird. 

But the new air was enough to make the boy slump back into his seat as well, grumbling to himself as his anger dissipated.

What could he even say to that? Sure, he still wanted to throttle the idiot but after seeing that face from her he decided to resist. 

Just barely. 

“Whatever. Just hurry up and finish so I can go home already.” 

The rest of the dessert party was relatively normal. Sure, Dazai and Chuuya still snapped at each other every five seconds but Asa didn’t seem to mind, the girl happily eating away at her cake until there was nothing left. 

And once they were done, the three kids made their way back into the streets of people only for the gingered haired boy to watch Dazai kick his foot out just as Asa approached behind him. 

Then almost immediately, the poor girl walked right into his shoe, tripping on his outstretched foot, falling forwards with a squeak only for Dazai to shift his body and grab her by the waist rather dramatically before she could fall to the ground. 

Titling her body back into an intimate bow, the sixteen year old boy then snickered to himself. “My Asa-chan. I know you said you fell for me but you have to be more careful. My darling girlfriend, whatever would I do if something happened to you?”

His smooth talk was real rich considering he had purposely kicked his foot out so that she would fall. What a shady little brat, acting like her hero when he was really making fun of her inability to see. 

Asagao didn’t seem to notice though, her voice casual. “Sorry, Samu. I’m still getting used to the streets of Yokohama. Thanks for catching me though.” 

Dazai then gasped in an over the top fashion before snapping her body back up in order to shove her to his chest in a protective hold. “Not to worry my love, I will always catch you! I mean how could I not when you’ve already fallen from heaven and into my arms!” 

Chuuya only resisted the urge to gag at his pick up lines, feeling more drained then ever before. “Right so, can I go now? I’ve stayed long enough hearing this bastard's bullshit.” 

That seemed to shatter their little personal bubble though, Asagao immediately breaking away from Osu in order to run up to the gravity manipulator with a gasp. “What, no you can’t go yet. The day’s not over yet. I still have lots of plans.”

Raising an eye, the boy frowned. “Like?” 

Asa then lifted her hands up to the sky, shouting back happily. “Like karaoke!” 

Chuuya only blinked in confusion though, the words processing on his tongue. “...karaoke?” 

She wanted two port mafia members to sing karaoke with her? Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. That would ruin his image he was trying to go for. Besides, her plans sounded rather mundane, and that was something that Chuuya was never good at in the first place. 

Yet before he could argue, Dazai had latched onto Asa’s wrist in order to drag her behind him and down the road. “Come on Chibi, it’s my darlings day, whatever she says goes!” 

Chuuya then watched the couple as his partner practically yanked the girl around the busy groups of people as the ginger chased after them with concern. 

What the hell kind of hold was that? It looked like he was trying to kidnap her. “Hold on, why are you pulling her like that?” 

Dazai then paused for a moment, his hold unmoving from her wrist in order to glance back with a sly smirk. “Cause my love is hopelessly lost without me to guide her, isn't’ that right?” 

Asagao only nodded her head in response in order for the boy to continue his rough handling as Chuuya couldn’t help but follow behind them with apprehension. How could the girl possibly be okay with this? He wasn’t even holding her hand, he was just dragging her around like a dog on a leash. 

Great, now he couldn’t leave them alone. 

Not when he was still unsure what Dazai’s plans really were. 

Yet unknown to the spiraling Chuuya, the bandaged boy and the glasses girl then secretly glanced towards each other, sharing a hidden message with their eye contact and a small unseen nod before she felt Dazai’s fingers tighten around his hold. 

And as they went, a group of shadowy figures watched dangerously from a distance as well, their gaze focusing in on the executive and the auburn haired female that was attached to his side. 

But mostly the girl. 

Nakahara Chuuya had been in a million horrifying situations. 

He had seen wars, witnessed the most brutal of deaths and tortured the worst criminals he could possibly imagine. But nothing, and I mean nothing could have prepared him for this. 

Because right now the port mafia member, the leader of the sheep, the fearsome gravity manipulator was stuck sitting on a plush sofa, listening to Dazai badly sing and dance the latest pop songs over and over again for hours on end. 

And not only that, Asagao and Osamu seemed to encourage each other every single time, the two kids having a time of their life as they took turns with the verses, clapping and cheering like they were at an actual concert. 

It was an odd sight for sure. Because although Asa wasn’t half bad at singing, Dazai purposely sang horribly, probably to get on Chuuya nerves and make him want to run into oncoming traffic. Because if that was the plan he was succeeding. 

But as ear grating and overstimulating as it was, even Chuuya couldn’t help but admit that the two of them looked good together in some kind of fucked up way. The way they danced and shouted seemed to be in a sync that the ginger couldn’t comprehend. 

Now and back at the cafe they seemed to read each other's minds without a word, able to predict their next arm gestures or kicks in order to match it in a millisecond. 

It was kind of impressive to be honest, how well they matched each other without even trying.

Finally the song ended as Asa and Osamu gave each other a giddy high five and flop onto the sofa in order for the girl to lift out the microphone to Chuuya. “Ah, that was fun! You should really try it, Chuuya. It’s very freeing!” 

The boy only shook his head though, pushing the object away. There was no way in hell he was going to sing while Dazai was here. The guy would just make fun of him for it. “Nah, I’m alright. You can take my turn since you’re so good at it.” 

Asagao then smiled before pulling the mic back to her. “You think so? I’ve been practicing for this very moment. Glad to know all the singing alone in my room paid off finally!” 

Her response was depressing as hell, causing Chuuya to raise an eye in question. She said something like that in the cafe also. What was her life even like before she met Dazai? Because the way she was speaking it seemed kind of lonely and sad. 

Yet before he could speak on it, Osamu stretched out his arms in order to throw the heavy microphone directly into Chuuya’s face. “Honestly, it’s for the better if he stays quiet. I’ve heard Chibi sing and it sounds like a cat in a dishwasher.  Trust me, Asa-chan. You’re dodging a bullet there!” 

Then the boy pointed to the door with a hum. “I’m going to extend our time, try not to miss me too much while I’m gone, love.” 

Dazai then winked in her direction before leaving Asa and the ginger alone in an awkward and uncomfortable silence. 

Not knowing what to say, Chuuya then jumped up before also moving towards the door with a rushed reply. “I’m gonna go get a drink. You want anything?” 

Shaking her head in response, the boy then took in the answer before disappearing down the hallway in order to force himself to breathe from the strange new atmosphere. 

This place was so different from the places he usually frequented, littered with hoards of school kids in uniform around the same age as him. Even still, the mafioso still felt out of place in his own supposed domain. 

Perhaps if he wasn’t in the sheep or the mafia then this could feel more natural. 

Sighing to himself, Chuuya then couldn’t help but think back to the annoying and insufferable bandaged menace that he had been forced to follow around all day. He still didn’t know what to make of Asa and Dazai’s relationship but he still couldn’t help but be conflicted by it. 

Because nothing had explicitly shown him that Dazai didn’t care about her. Yes, he was still mean and cruel but there was something else about the two of them that Chuuya couldn’t place. 

The way the two looked at each other sometimes, the way they silently communicated with each other by simple and seemingly natural touches, it was something that the ginger hadn’t seen at all from Dazai in the time he’d known him. 

And it was blatantly obvious that Asagao was crazy about him but was it the same for the executive? Could it really be? Did Dazai actually have the capacity to care about someone else other than himself? 

Had he been wrong this entire time? You know, perhaps he judged the guy too quickly. Sure, he wasn’t a good person but perhaps he wasn’t all evil. Maybe, just maybe there was hope somewhere deep inside that pitch black heart of his. 

Turning the corner to get to the vending machine, Chuuya then froze as he saw a very familiar black jacket and bandaged arms appeared in his vision just a couple feet away. 

And just like that, every single bit of hope, every nice thing he had said in his mind about his partner flew out the window in an instant. 

Because standing a couple feet away was that very same boy, grabbing onto some random ladies' hands lovingly while flirting with her openly in front of the entire building as he swooned.“I have to ask. Would a beautiful lady such as yourself be interested in a double suicide with me?” 

And hearing his words, Chuuya only saw red.

 That bastard, that two timing, cheating little rat! His lovesick girlfriend was just steps away and he was just betraying her so easily, on her birthday nonetheless!! God, what a selfish horrible, ugly little prick. He wanted to beat his face in. 

How could he do that to her? Didn’t he hear what she said about him, about how she thought that Dazai was the most important thing to her? He really had no problem crushing her dreams like that. 

Although that’s when he heard a small female voice behind him, poking his shoulder once. “Umm Chuuya? Are you okay? You took a while so I got worried.” 

Feeling his face grow pale, Chuuya then immediately turned around before catching the concerned look in Asagao’s face. No, this was bad. She couldn’t see this. It would crush her, it would hurt her beyond reason, and on her birthday. 

No, he couldn’t let that happen, he wouldn’t give Dazai the satisfaction. 

Quickly reaching his hand forward, Chuuya then latched onto her eyes in order to push her backwards and away from the horrible disgusting sight. “Follow me, this way…” 

He didn’t let go until the two were fully outside of the building, his hand moving away in order to immediately shut down the danger as quickly as possible. “Listen, you need to break up with Dazai. Trust me, it’s for your own good.” 

At that, Asa softened, almost like she already knew where this conversation was heading. “Chuuya..” 

Chuuya shook his head almost instantly though. “Look, I know you wanna believe that he’s a good guy or whatever but that’s just not the case. He isn’t this sweet boyfriend you’ve hoping for. He’s a monster, he doesn’t care about anyone but himself and dating you is definitely some sort of sick joke to him. I just know it.” 

Once again, the girl was only unbothered. “Thank you for being worried about me, but Osamu’s not as bad as you think he is.”

Not as bad?! No, she was right, he was worse. Dazai was the worst person he had ever had the displeasure of meeting and Chuuya was desperate to get his slimy little fingers off of her as quickly as possible. Just because he had to deal with him didn’t mean she did as well. 

So much so, the control he had slowly started to slip away in order to make her understand the severity. “No, you don’t get it! That bastard is in there cheating on you right now, flirting with some chick with absolutely no shame! He’s disgusting.” 

Ah shit, he didn’t mean to spill that to her right now. But what could he do, he was just so pissed about her inability to see what was really wrong here. Yes, maybe she’d cry but at least she’d understand. 

She was silent then, causing Chuuya to hastily continue. “The truth is, you don’t know anything about him. He’s been playing with you this whole damn time! How much did he tell you about being in the port mafia? Has he told you he’s murdered and tortured thousands of people? Has he said anything about the disturbing crimes and disgusting shit I’ve seen him do for the last year? Face it, Asagao. He doesn’t care, he never did.” 

Grabbing hold of her shoulders in order to shake some sense into her, the boy finished plainly. “Look, I can get you out of here. I can help you leave him if he won’t let you but you need to do it now. By attaching yourself to him you’ve already put yourself in danger. People are going to see you as a target and I’m damn sure that Dazai won’t come save you either. Do you hear me, you’re going to die if you stay here..” 

And he was prepared to ditch this place in a heartbeat in order to make sure such a kind and pure soul was safe from the clutches of the demon. 

Perhaps Dazai didn’t have a heart but he did and the last thing he was going to do was allow the light in her to die just because that mackerel didn’t care enough to protect it. 

Yet before he could speak again, Chuuya’s entire body began to tense as he felt a threatening presence join them in the alleyway, causing the boy to immediately shove his arms into Asagao in order to push her behind him with a glare. Who the fuck..?

A group of individuals seemingly appeared out of nowhere then, one to the men clapping sarcastically at the scene before him. “Well well well, what do we have here? I thought we had a meeting today but here you seem to be having a grand old time after standing us up.” 

Chuuya recognized the men immediately, a groan sounding in the back of his throat. Ah shit, these were the guys that Dazai and him were supposed to threaten for stepping out of line and going against the port mafia’s orders. Looks like they got tired of waiting just like him.

And though he could understand their annoyance, the fact that Asagao was here with him made this situation a million times worse. This is what he was trying to avoid and now the lines between his world and hers were crossing into each other. 

Keeping his stance strained, the mafioso then shoved his hands into his pockets before giving the men around them a warning look. “The meeting got pushed back. My shitty partner decided to go MIA and I was just about to drag him back.” 

Although that’s when the man in the middle of the group started to laugh, his lips turning up into a twisted toothy grin in order to lift his hand out to his men for something. “Oh, that won’t be necessary, plans have changed.” 

Reaching behind him, the random thug then pulled out a very familiar black jacket, the fabric crumbled and messy as a deep set of crimson blood dripped from the ends. 

Oh fuck, this was bad. These guys didn’t want a meeting, did he? They wanted an ambush, to fully break free of the mafia’s chains.

And now they had Dazai as leverage to do it. 

Chuuya was then taken out his thoughts as Asagao shouted in pure fear, her voice shaky and uncertain, a flash of red auburn ran past his vision in order to reach the jacket. “O-Osamu?!” 

Feeling his throat stain with terror, the ginger quickly lifted his hand out to stop her only to hit air, almost like she was never there in the first place before blinking and finding her a couple inches from the fabric. 

Damn it, what the fuck was she doing?! “Hey wait, don’t..!!” 

It was too late though, one of the men activating their ability in an instant as red sharp strings sprung from his fingertips in order to latch onto Asagao’s neck and pull her backwards into enemy arms. 

The sharp skill instantly choked her, causing the girl to gasp out in fear only for her captives to twist her arms behind her back painfully with a sick hum. “Mmm and what do we have here?” 

Chuuya was livid though, his body already glowing with his gravity manipulation ability and absolute rage. “Bastard! Let her go, she’s not a part of this!” 

The man only laughed though, tightening the strings on her throat as Asa let out another suffocating gasp before tapping her cheek once. “I beg to differ, Nakahara. We’ve been watching this one very closely. Who would’ve thought we would get to meet the demon prodigy’s precious little girlfriend? I think we’ll keep her too just to make him squirm.” 

Analyzing the situation with a pounding heartbeat, Chuuya glanced at the men around him before cursing silently. From the way they were positioned any move could cause the ability around Asa’s neck to snap her head off completely. He was stuck. 

Grasping for anything he could, the boy glared back. “Nice try but Dazai doesn’t care about her like that. Taking her won’t give you any damn leverage.”

And he hoped that would be enough to let her go, to lessen her value to these dangerous men, but sadly he only received the opposite. “Oh, I don’t know about that. We witnessed firsthand how the executive treats her. The overly touching, feeding each other deserts in plain sight, saying that he doesn’t know what he would do without her, we’ve seen it all.” 

Feeling his eyes widen, Chuuya then felt his hands turn practically white from his grip. Fuck, this is what he was trying to tell that bastard since the beginning. He was practically throwing himself on her in public all day and now Asagao was a target because of his reckless behavior. 

Why wasn’t he more careful, why didn’t he realize this was going to be the result? Or did he truly just not care about Asagao at all? How evil, leaving her to defend herself like this for attacks when she couldn’t handle it. 

What a misfortune it was, being labeled as the misfortune of being Dazai’s girlfriend. What a death wish it truly brought to such a poor innocent girl in an instant.  

He was so angry. No, he was absolutely furious for her that he felt his gravity ability glow even brighter only for the man to quickly close his fingers as Asa suffocated even faster. “Now, let’s not be so hasty. We have the executive and the girl. So it would be beneficial if you just went along with our requests instead of that? Otherwise who knows what could happen to her?” 

Snapping his fingers, one of the guys then pulled out a pair of handcuffs before throwing them on the floor by Chuuya’s feet as the boy looked at the metal with disgust. 

They wanted him to put on these ability suppressors and follow them to god knows where?  You’ve got to be kidding me. There was no way in hell he was going to do that. 

 But if he didn’t then that meant that Asagao would be taken to Dazai and inevitably killed when that mackerel expressed his indifference to her. 

Damn it, he really had no choice, did he? 

Looking back up to the girl in question, her scared expression then locked onto his in order for small tears to prick the corners of her eyes. “C-Chuuya..” 

And just like that, Chuuya immediately reached down in order to quickly latch the ability suppression cuffs on his wrist, disabling his desire to fight back as the men around him laughed at the defenseless boy. “Good choice.” 

Then before he could answer, the red strings disappeared around Asa’s throat leaving her to collapse unconsciously onto the cold ground as Chuuya felt a painful knock in the back of his head at the same time, meeting her straight onto the ground. 

Before he blacked out completely, the boy cursed Dazai’s name, reaching his hand out towards the unmoving auburn haired girl in question with a silent promise. 

Damn it, I’ll get you out of here, I promise.

----

(This is a fourth part mini arc that will all connect together. These are the first two parts and I'll post the second two together as well. Thanks for reading!)

[lexirambles]

Eyo, welcome to the second post of this blog 🎉🎉🎉🎉

The Undertale Yellow brainrot is SO bad that I’ve gone and made an UTY au. Wanna hear about it? Of course you do, who would you be here if you didn’t! If you don’t, then leave sucka, I’m here to FUCK!

So y’all know me, I’m a giant Ceroba fan, simp, and apologist. This fandom be shitting on her and I cannot STAND for this INJUSTICE! So, I sat down and thought “hey, how about we entertain that idea. What if Ceroba didn’t inject Kanako?” And it just spiraled into an entirely different universe of its own. So here we are, I’m way too deep, I’m just gonna dive in.

So, we all know the context, ye? Chujin is veeeeery dead, leaving Ceroba and Kanako to pick up the pieces of his work. This time, when Kanako offers herself as the boss monster vessel, Ceroba denies, not wanting to risk the only family she has left and wanting to respect Chujin’s last wishes. Kanako is upset by this, even staring an arguement between the two and Kanako even trying to steal the vile, but who can blame them in such a tense situation. One thing that’s bothered me on this whole argument is that Kanako was manipulated into her decision, or didn’t understand what she was doing, when she clearly did. She saw the consequences first hand, it look her father for crying out loud, she knew it could take her as well. Adolescents are reckless, and will fight like hell to get what they want, especially if they strongly believe in it. I think Kanako is far older and more mature then we think, I personally enturpret her as 15 or 16 at the time of her falling down. I don’t see no striped shirt on that kit!

So now what are we left with? They can’t just go find another boss monsters, they’re very rare, and most don’t even know if they are apart of that minority. So, we got two options; Asgore or Toriel. No way in HELL Toriel would agree, and I don’t think anyone even knows where Toriel went to. So we have Asgore. Wheeler he goes along with it or not is… debatable. He wants the best for his subjects, and would do anything to get out of this one sided war with humans. But this isn’t an alternative to breaking the barrier, it’s a back up plan for if history repeats itself. It could save many monsters lives, but would Asgore trust her after the stunts Chujin pulled? Maybe he even feels guilty for what happened to him. For the sake of this au, he agrees, desperate and grieving just like the women in front of him. But we all know what happens to Kanako, so…

THE KING IS DEAD! Vive la révolution!

Ok, not really, he’s just fallen down. That’s now Alphys’ problem to deal with (I’m sorry gurl I love you). But now Ceroba is in hot, HOT water, for a few crimes like ✨attempted assassination✨, ✨regicide✨, and ✨treason✨! If you’ve ever seen Undyne in the neutral routes, then you know she’s one trigger happy fish that’s very loyal to Asgore, and ain’t the biggest fan of the iron gallos. She’d much rather do it with her own two hands. So before Ceroba can run, plead her case, or even fight back; she’s got a spear straight through the soul.

Kanako, obviously, ain’t so happy about this. Poor gurl just lost her dad, and now her mom is also very dead, right in front of her too. Ouch! So she reacts as you’d expect anyone to, and attacks Undyne back with quite the fierce fireball. Luckily, it’s not a DnD fireball, but it does serve as the reason she wears an eyepatch now. With her attacker blinded, Kanako makes a desperate run for it, not wanting to risk retaliation. Back at the Wild East, all she has is her mother’s staff and the mask she made to as evidence of what happened.

The Wild East is heavily shook by the news, every resident feels it, but Starlo is hurt especially hard. That was his best friend, perhaps someone he saw as more, someone he cared for deeply and devotedly. We saw Starlo is the flawed pacifist run, he don’t take this too well. But right now, he doesn’t care about what he thinks or feels. In front of him is a grieving now orphaned child who watched her own parents turned to dust, who he watched grow up and been by their side the whole time. So like he always does, he comforts her before anything else. For this AU, Starlo will be serving as Kanako’s guardian, since she has no parents now. The fandom has kinda agreed on that Starlo is Kanako’s honorary uncle, and he definitely has some strong dad energy he needs to unleash. So he’s going to be the one to step up and care for this poor child.

Starlo decides this is a pretty good chance to give her something; a hat just like his own. He even cut out holes for her ears, Ceroba always complained about how the way his hat made it hard to hear and folded her ears in uncomfortable matters. He wants to share his passion of western culture with Kanako, to pass on what helped comfort him. Though he is very unaware that escapism is a very self destructive coping mechanism, and has just damned Kanako to become worse; whoops! He even offers to teach her gunslinging and give her lassons when she’s older. There’s a solum comfort in the promise of future, something to look forward to, a goal to achieve. And so, Kanako latches into it, and holds onto it for dear life.

Years go by, Kanako has grown up, and the 6th human falls. Kanako has shown to be a natural at wielding a gun, but ends up falling back on her natural magical abilities. Starlo offered for her to join the feisty five, maybe even become deputy, but she refuses. Instead, she adapts the persona of a bounty hunter, a lawless predator that only abides by the count of coin under her victim’s wanted poster. I really want to give her a cool alter ego name like North Star does, but I don’t have any ideas on what a good name for her would be. So if you guys have any cool names for her, I’d really appreciate it! Nonetheless, she joins in on Starlo’s western fantasies, relishing in the role as the villain. The classic self righteous vigilante sherif VS the aloof bounty hunter just getting paid. She embraced their role as some Saturday cartoon bad guy, tying damsels to train tracks and robbing banks, shooting the good guy all “this town ain’t big enough for the both of us,” style. It’s a performance, a chance for her to be someone else. The bounty hunter isn’t a lost, confused, and traumatized child who had her parents and childhood ripped away from her claws right in front of her, but a powerful and respected foe people can be scared of.

How would Kanako interact with Clover and the gang, I don’t really know yet. I’m imagining Starlo instructing her to sabotage the trials he sets up for Clover as a way to cause drama and challenge his soon to be deputy, while playing none the wiser to the posse, but that’s all I really got. What I’m more interested in is her dynamic with Martlet. Kanako isn’t a big fan of Royal guard for obvious reason, it’s a big reason why she takes on a bounty hunter role, their whole point is to give the law enforcers the middle finger. So when a blue bodied yellow eyed Royal Guardswomen rolls up into town, she’s going to be pretty heavily reminded of her late mother’s executioner. You can’t have a hunter without the hunted, and fittingly enough, foxes are known to hunt many kinds of birds; from small songbirds to juvenile birds of prey, but usually just the eggs. It would be a good reason for Martlet to be in jail, she pulled a Ramsey Murdock and put herself in jail so she doesn’t join her cousin Berdly in the grocery isle as fried chicken.

So, to end things off, why does this Au exist. For a lot of reasons, but it’s mainly to show the point of Ceroba’s and Kanako’s role in the story. They are both left doomed by the narrative, whether she gets injected or not. It doesn’t matter who lived or who died, the survivor is left no better then dead wishing it was them instead. The point of Kanako is to be a tragedy, to show what happens to many families, the inevitability of death and how grief can tear someone apart. If Kanako is the sacrificial lamp, someone else has to be. Inversely, if Ceroba isn’t there to be the the consequence of that sacrifice, someone else will have to. It doesn’t matter what choice Ceroba made on injecting her daughter, she was doomed to a fate worse than death, whether through amalgamation or orphaning. But it’s also meant to be a commentary on the nature of Undertale Yellow’s main theme; Justice. In my mind, and the way Kanako sees it, blind justice doesn’t exist. Yeah, there’s moral things everyone can say “that’s pretty wrong,” but at the end of the day, justice is self serving. Every person’s moral compass and what they believe is right and wrong is different, and so the Justice they enforce exists to push their own agenda. Clover in one timeline will sacrifice their soul to give monsters justice, while in another killing every monster that moves is delivering justice for the crime of the other children’s deaths. Did Ceroba deserve execution for what she did even if it was an accident, is it just of Kanako to mercilessly slaughter a child for the sake of the underground? That question doesn’t matter to her, all that matters in justice. Anyway, have adult Kanako in a cowboy hat, I’ll finalize her design for this AU one day…

[it-happened-one-fic]

Dead of the Night - Diluc (Part 2)

Author Notes: The second part of my Halloween/October fic series for Genshin Impact! Much of what applied to the first part applies to this part as well. I wrote and edited this Vampire! AU series exclusively to "Is this Love" by Whitesnake which did kind of influence how this series came together. As per usual, Reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-Neutral Reader/ Vampire! AU/ pining/ romance/ some drama/ fluff with a touch of angst

Word Count: 1711

{Part 1}, {Part 2: You're Here!}, {Part 3}, {Part 4}

Also available on AO3 (link deleted due to glitches)

Trigger Warning: Reader does get attacked by a vampire, but all is well.

I blinked up at Diluc, not entirely sure of what to say, as the vampire that had just attacked me collapsed into ashes mere seconds after ignition.

Thank you? You’re a vampire?! How on earth did you get here this quickly??! 

They all seemed like reasonable reactions, but I faltered as he turned to look down at me, backlit by the remains of the burning pyre behind him.

His face was a mask of worry as he looked down at where I remained. Sprawled on the ground from where the vampire had tackled me.

He dropped down into a crouch at a distance that I realized was to ensure I felt safe with him. Almost like he somehow knew that I’d seen his fangs and was worried that I was afraid.

 It was a realization that brought a pang to my heart because it was true. Even though he’d just saved me, I was afraid.

“Are you alright?” His voice was cautious, but the undertone of worry was there, and I could clearly see the concern in his eyes.

And slowly, I nodded before, at long last, finding my voice, “Yeah… I’m okay.”

I watched as some of the tenseness left his frame and he stood once more, reaching down towards where I still sat on the ground, “Can you stand?” That was a very valid question, I realized, as I finally noticed my legs were trembling from the adrenaline crash that I was currently experiencing. 

A crash that I really didn’t want to be dealing with right now since I’d just found out that my childhood friend, who’d just saved my life, was a vampire.

“I… I don’t know.” He frowned at my words and started to lean down before I panickedly started trying to stand. My legs were still trembling, but they held me up as I straightened and took a step backwards, “I’m good, yeah… I’ve got it.”

Diluc frowned at my words, watching me closely as I wrapped my arms around myself in some sort of feeble embrace.

 I slowly steadied my breathing and looked back over to where he stood. The worry in his red eyes was still easily visible as I forced myself to get a grip on the situation and calm down.

“Thank you,” I at last managed, squeezing my arms slightly as if to ground myself. It was surreal, though. 

I’d just been thinking about how, even despite the distance between us, Diluc would never truly be a stranger simply due to our shared childhood, but here I was learning he was a vampire. And who knew how long he’d been one? It made me wonder what else I’d been wrong about.

Perhaps I didn’t and hadn’t known him as well as I’d thought, and perhaps that was why a distance had sprung up between us.

I exhaled, my gaze still holding his as I wondered what he was thinking. I knew that I should probably be thinking about how I’d almost been killed just now, or perhaps about how to get away from the potential new danger that came in the form of an old friend.

But instead, I just quietly voiced the question that I already knew the answer to, “You’re a vampire?”

He tensed almost immediately, his eyes widening slightly, before a guarded expression washed across his face. And for a brief moment, I thought that was going to be it. That was going to be the end of it.

But then he turned away with a sigh, almost like he was trying to hide what I’d already seen as he spoke, his voice quieter than it had been, “Yes. It happened quite some time ago.”

Some time ago…. My mind immediately took me back to that rainy day when Crepus had died, when Diluc and Kaeya had their falling out, and when the distance between me and Diluc had first made its appearance. 

But had it really happened then? It was true that Diluc had not changed much in appearance since that day, but that didn’t necessarily mean that was the day that he’d been bitten and forever changed into a creature of the night. 

Perhaps it had happened while he was away? After all, Mondstadt wasn’t the only place with vampires; it was just that ours were less well-controlled. A fault of the Knights of Favonius, I was sure Diluc would argue. 

I watched him, though. Finding that since I’d calmed down from my incredibly recent brush with death, I was not actually afraid of Diluc, even though he’d just confirmed my suspicions. 

I’d been terrified of the vampire that had attacked me, but not of Diluc.

It was possible that it was because Diluc had saved me, but it was more likely that it was just because Diluc was Diluc.

 Because, for better or worse, I cared for Diluc. Even if I’d failed him in the past when he’d needed comfort and, despite everyone’s best efforts, had decided to leave home to find it elsewhere, I still cared.

“Did you get hurt?” My voice was quiet, but it had Diluc turning to look at me with obvious surprise. 

And I supposed that made sense. Any other sane person would’ve fled his presence rather quickly after finding out his status as a vampire. But I couldn’t. Not when he’d saved me mere moments ago, and not when he was my friend. Even if, to him, I was just a friend from the past.

“When it dove at you, I mean.” I gestured vaguely towards where the vampire had been as I attempted to fill the heavy silence with my voice and explain my previous question all at once, “Did you get hurt then?”

Something about his stare changed, almost like it softened as he continued to look at me before he shook his head. Twisting so that he was facing me fully once more. “No, I’m fine.”

He frowned as he finished, looking off towards something in the distance that only he could see. But perhaps there really was something there. I had heard that vampires could see in the dark far better than the average human.

“You should get home…. I’ll walk you there,” His voice was firm, confirming that he had indeed seen something that he didn’t like.

I hesitated, almost wanting to refuse and go on my own, but the memory of that vampire showing up and chasing me was right there in the back of my mind. A reminder of what was out there and what it was that Diluc might have seen.

“I… thank you,” I at last accepted and I saw a frown flicker across Diluc’s face. But he was no doubt realizing that I was hesitant to be near him, and the information that he was a vampire was still fresh and new in my mind.

Though, admittedly, it wasn’t his status as a vampire that made me hesitant, and more my general awkwardness around him.

But he turned, without any further words, and started leading me down the path towards where I lived. 

And I followed him silently. Glancing nervously behind me before trotting after him and falling into a steady stroll once I caught up. 

Similarly, he remained silent, adding to the weighty atmosphere. But somehow I still couldn’t help but recall that when we were young, we would come dashing up this very same street hand in hand. 

It had been different then. A bright smile on Diluc’s face had been a common thing, as he would hurriedly ask my parents, with shining eyes, if I could go to his house. 

But we’d also been kids then. Frolicking together alongside Jean, Barbara, and Kaeya, when he wasn’t sick, in the vineyard under Adelinde’s watchful eye.

“Um… I really can’t thank you enough,” I started, only to be cut off as Diluc stopped to look back at me over his shoulder. Seemingly unwilling to face me fully.

“There’s no need. Anyone else would have done the same. There was no way I could just leave you there while you were under attack,” His words were polite, but the unsaid meaning was there as well.

‘Don’t push yourself. I know you’re scared now that you realize I’m a vampire.’

I frowned, my fingers curling into my palm as I watched him turn away and start down the path again. It wasn’t a strange sight to see Diluc walking on his own. But I now wondered if that was by choice. 

Perhaps, after being turned, he’d gotten into the habit of shunning the presence of others in order to keep his secret. It couldn’t be easy, after all, to avoid sunlight, run the winery, and keep up with day-to-day life.

And perhaps those thoughts were why I found myself trotting after him and reaching out as I grabbed him by the arm impulsively. Causing the young man to turn with wide eyes as the words came rushing from my mouth, “I won’t tell anyone!”

I faltered under his gaze, withdrawing my hand from his arm as my voice softened from one of desperation to awkward reassurance, “I won’t tell anyone that you’re a vampire, I mean.” 

My gaze flickered up to meet his, watching him carefully and hoping my words put him a bit more at ease. Because I didn’t want this gap between us to grow any larger. It was awkward enough as it was, and if I didn’t handle this carefully, it would only get worse.

“So you don’t have to worry about that, at the very least,” I finished quietly, forcing myself to keep looking up at him despite how awkward I felt.

 And Diluc stared at me, half-startled, before his gaze softened once more. Almost like he was relaxing as I pushed myself to accept this change and let him know it was fine. 

Because even if he was a vampire, he was also still Diluc. And the Diluc I knew would never hurt anyone in Mondstadt. Not me nor anyone else. 

The only people he’d ever be a threat to would be those who threatened his home. And if what occurred a few moments ago was anything to go by, that number included the other vampires.

@vera-deville

[dreamedfyre-a]

i'm pretty sure i've written something to that effect before but i'm writing more and also i can't find the post so

the greens didn't decide impulsively to take the throne when viserys died. that was the plan all along and i think they were all aware of it (to some extent; perhaps reluctant to see it, but aware at some level). of course, i'll never dictate how other muses felt or should feel about it (and takes like show based alicent never having any intention to do so are 100% valid!). but looking at the overall situation, it's blatantly obvious otto was playing the long game from the moment he started parading his daughter as a replacement for aemma, and that he meant to get aegon on the throne one way or another.

the first attempt was trying to get rhaenyra and aegon married, which would achieve his goal and prevent a war of succession. that failed, he clearly didn't give up. alicent's children were raised with that claim for the throne in mind. helaena was married to aegon to further his claim. when viserys died, aemond's first answer is to ask 'is aegon king?'. they all knew it'd come to that.

which is why i can't see (and don't write) helaena being oblivious to her role and what it entails, to how royalty is perceived and how it matters. if anything, i think that's one of the first things helaena had thrust upon her, still as a child; she's a princess and she has to behave like one, and she would have started to understand why it matters then. struggling with it doesn't mean she cannot understand or is unaware. she forces herself to endure and masks the discomfort, to her own detriment, because it's what she had to learn to do.

she takes her duties seriously. she would have always tried to do her best. this extends to her time as queen. i don't think she was an entirely passive queen, nor that she would have been content to simply let alicent take charge of everything (whether that causes conflict or they work together is up for discussion). helaena didn't want to be queen, but she is. and if she is, she'll be the best queen she can be.

from what we know of consorts in asoiaf, it's suggested there's a strong diplomatic element (associated with how they are perceived by court and winning over and keeping the support of relevant lords and houses, as well as dealing with foreign dignitaries), and honestly a strong public relations sort of thing in regards to dealing with the faith and the smallfolk which is where i think she did best, perhaps inadvertently more so than on purpose. when welcomed by the king, queens can also act as advisors (which i'll get to later).

we know the book suggests helaena was greatly loved as a queen (even when the people's opinion of her brothers wasn't as positive). cultivating a positive relationship with the faith and appearing pious (and letting people see that) is part of what would be expected of her, and part she would have no hard time complying to. helaena does follow the faith; her mom did raise her to go to church and pray, to be charitable to those they meet along the way. (and it's such a small thing, but wouldn't it make a difference for people to know their queen kneels in front of the mother above and prays to the same gods they do?)

and it's the same when it comes to charity; people seeing the crown doing something for them makes a difference. people seeing a queen take the time to go to them and help those in need made her loved. while hesitant to be too close to anyone, helaena would neither be unkind nor arrogant if respectfully approached. she's not sociable, but she's gentle and genuine. it's her duty to help these people, and she takes it seriously.

helaena wouldn't be good at all with court politics, though. she knows how to behave and what she should or shouldn't do, but charming people is not something she excels at and if people go off script she struggles with what to do. she doesn't want them near she doesn't want to befriend them and while she is polite and gentle, she doesn't do as well with this.

if organizing events and feasts falls under the responsibilities of queens, this is a task she could handle with help. because helaena doesn't really like big events and what makes them appealing for most people knfkjdnfjkn (this made me think of aegon's feast to celebrate aemond post storm's end though. i don't think she likes the idea of a public celebration at all, and yet she would still prepare it because like i said the other day ultimately she's holding her brothers' hands no matter how bloody they are)

last but not least, i assume aegon wanted her in his council (otherwise she wouldn't be there) and she wanted to be there (otherwise she'd have refused to be there), and that was the standard from the beginning of his rule, which is why she was present the morning they received rhaenyra's terms. like i said, helaena takes her duties seriously; she would do her best to offer informed advice. to keep aegon's impulsiveness and aggressiveness in check, too, as she does re: how to answer to rhaenyra.

i genuinely think aegon and helaena would've worked well together in that sense, finding a middle ground between too impulsive and angry and too passive and diplomatic. i also think she's one of the few people there who'd be genuinely on his side; not the crown, not their own ambitions, because ultimately helaena is in it for her family. it's them she cares about.

of course, this is short-lived. after jaehaerys' death, all she might yet have been seen doing on occasion would be going to the sept, and even that would stop well before rhaenyra takes the city because helaena can't be bothered to leave her room. before that, though, she did take part on her queenly duties. that's what made her loved, and that's what made the commonfolk react viciously to her death.