#somehow i REVERSE jinxed them????

[dianashnaiders]

SARA ERRANI / JASMINE PAOLINI - 2024 Billie Jean King Cup, def. KATARZYNA KAWA/IGA SWIATEK

[msmk11]

Sixth Love Language

Fred Weasley x reader

WC: 1.1k

CW: Like one mention of food; fluff; playing pranks!!

Summary: You want to get your boyfriend back after he 'accidentally' pulled a prank on you

Day 7 of mk's mad dash

It is safe to say that you are bursting at the seam with excitement. 

You’ve been dating Fred for almost a year now, and have been friends even longer, so you’ve witnessed your fair share of the twin’s masterful pranks. Being one of his closest confidantes too, you’ve been privy to all of the work and planning that goes into his secret schemes. Though sometimes Fred’s pranks are silly, and even a little mean, they never fail to make you laugh. You look forward to every single one, and are always happy to listen to his tangents about them too. And though you’re a fond admirer of his work, and he’s even offered you the chance to join in on one of his pranks, you’re not sure you have the knack for planning and executing one. 

You’d also never been on the receiving end of one of Fred’s pranks. That was, at least, until about two weeks ago. He swears that it wasn’t intentional, but somehow you’d ended up covered in a sticky goo that was dumped on your head on the way to class. The worst part? It was jinxed with a sticking charm that couldn’t be reversed until the end of the day. Though you were livid, you didn’t let on to your boyfriend. Instead of just giving him a stern talking-to or ignoring him for a few days, you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

The past week, you’d been poring over countless books trying to find the perfect spell or potion to prank Fred with. After hours upon hours of searching, you found it hidden in Witches Weekly, oddly enough. It was a hair transformation spell. But instead of just changing Fred’s hair once, you’ve altered the charm so that his hair will change to a different cut and color every five minutes. It may not be as clever as your boyfriend’s pranks, but he is vain enough about his red hair that you know it’ll do the job. 

You quite literally do the spell behind his back, casting it on him when he is climbing out the portrait hole in front of you on your way down to breakfast. It’ll take five minutes for his hair to change the first time, and you can barely contain your eagerness as you walk hand-in-hand with Fred to the Great Hall. 

You’ve just gotten seated at his side at the Gryffindor table when it changes for the first time. You watch gleefully as his shorter red hair is replaced with long, wavy pink hair. The change starts subtly, but it doesn’t take long before people start to notice. You keep your head buried in the Daily Prophet as George exclaims, “Oi, Fred! Like the new look you’re going for.”

Fred looks at his twin, confused, “What do you mean?” 

Lee looks up from his cereal and busts out laughing, nearly spraying milk all over the table, “Very princess popstar of you, Freddy.”

Your boyfriend looks at you, bewildered, “Babe, what are they talking about?”

You maintain a straight face as you cooly reply, “Your hair’s gone all long and pink, baby.”

“What?!” he nearly shrieks, catching the attention of pretty much everyone else in the hall. 

The students erupt into laughter as Fred frantically begs you for your compact mirror.

When he’s met with his own appearance, his face twists into horror, “Bloody hell? What is this?! Who did this?”

It’s quite the challenge, trying to maintain a concerned demeanor, “Maybe a Slytherin? Might be payback for that prank you pulled on them last week?”

“But why’s George’s hair normal then? He helped with the prank too!”

“Too handsome for them to ruin this, I reckon,” George adds, motioning to his face confidently. 

“This is a personal attack I-”

But before Fred can finish his sentence, his hair begins to change again, this time into a bright yellow bob. 

You can’t help the tiny chuckle that you let out this time, and Fred whips around to look at you, “What? What is it?”

“Mate, it’s changed again,” Lee chokes out breathlessly.

Fred looks back in your mirror and gapes, horrified, “They’ve done it again! How? I- this needs to bloody stop.”

Suddenly, Fred’s younger brother, Ron, approaches, “Wow, Fred. Like the new look. Though I’m not sure yellow’s your color.”

He bursts into laughter, along with Harry and Hermione who are with him.

“Shut up, you git,” Fred replies, reaching out to slap his arm. 

Ron dodges the hit and busts into laughter again. Even Hermione, the most serious fourteen year old you’ve ever met, can barely keep it together.

Your boyfriend looks at her, “Oi Granger. You’re smart! Quit laughing and help me, would you?”

She shrugs innocently, “Sorry, don’t know a counterspell for that one. You might be stuck like this forever.”

“Baby,” Fred protests, “turning to you with real fear in his eyes. Can you fix this, please?”

When his hair begins to morph again, this time into a green, spiky mohawk, you absolutely lose it. You laugh right in your distraught boyfriend’s face and lean down, burying your head in your arms. 

Never afraid to shy away from attention, and with all eyes already on him, Fred stands up and shouts, “Whoever is doing this, you need to stop it right now!”

People only start laughing harder, and that’s when you finally decide to give up the bit. Though your whole body is still shaking with silent laughter, and a few tears are streaming down your face, you tug on his wrist, “Freddy, baby. Calm down. It was me, okay? I’m the one who put the spell on you.”

Fred freezes in place, and you swear you’ve never seen him this still in your entire time knowing him.

“Baby?” You prod, tugging on his wrist again.

“You did this?” he asks quietly.

You’re starting to become a little worried that Fred is actually upset with you for the prank.

“Y-yeah. Just wanted to get you back for the goo two weeks ago,” you admit shyly. 

You brace yourself, preparing for a lecture about how his prank was just an accident, and how you’d just embarrassed him. 

You couldn’t be happier to be wrong. Fred sweeps you up into his arms, pulling you out of your sweet with a loud laugh, “Babe?! You did this all just to get back at me? You pranked me?!”

You nod at your boyfriend sheepishly.

Fred smacks a big, wet kiss on your lips and you try not to be shy about the fact that it’s in front of everyone, “That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me!”

“Uhm, you’re welcome, then?” You answer with a giggle.

Then Fred shouts to everyone, “I have the best partner ever!”

[ti-girl1226]

since season 2 is done…

I have a 2 theories one might sound a bit strange but I’ll get to that in a second, and also might not click onto lore wise for the actual game

1- Isha is alive still- we don’t see isha die literally or get buried, which I understand her getting buried may be had due to like explosion right. But for this season and show where it’s been kinda thing where they don’t strive away from death and seeing the dead bodies of people it’s a bit strange. Now it came be argued that they didn’t show Milo or Clagger (is that how you spell it?) getting buried but you did see them die. Also even then with characters like Vander you think he is dead but nope he’s alive. My thing with most of the fandoms I watch applies here, if you don’t see a body then they aren’t dead. 2- Where is isha?- you may be asking then because I sound like a crazy person who just wants everything to be happy again. (Not a lie here.) Well I have a theory that doesn't have much evidence but I still like to think about it this way. It’s that anyone who is “killed” by the arcane isn’t actually dead more so a soul stuck in wherever Viktor and Jayce where. Now you might be saying that’s a cop out, you’re kinda right but I don’t think this counts for anything other than explosive magic. The thing is whenever there is an explosion of hextech they just disappear, no traces. Poof gone, which seems strange to me. Now I’m not saying if someone where to be like shot by jinx’s gun like silco was that they are in the Hex space (that’s what I’m calling the weird space idk if there is a name for it) no I’m saying that the injuries they sustained prior to the hex explosion is still there, but the damage done by the explosion is reversed. So this still gives a chance for them all to come back from where they first disappeared. Which I think is kinda funny considering all the scientist Ambessa sent down to the hexgate, which would all if there was a way to get the people out of hexspace would just pile on top of each other down there.

3- Jayce and Viktor have adopted Isha in hexspace and are living happily ever after. If they somehow in fanfics come back I want it so that then Viktor kinda takes Jinx’s under his wing and Jayce does the same for Vi mainly because he already did it for Caitlin.

[sylvanas-girlkisser]

Crack theory time.

So, one of the big visual differences between Arcane and League is Zauns technilogy glowing purple rather than green yeah? This is of course due to the addition of shimmer as an extension of chemtech.

It's also pretty heavily implied that shimmer is somehow tied to the waters around Piltover, or possibly the creatures therein. Like, to the point where I would go so far as consider it text.

Jinx also has pretty distinct animal theming, more so in League than Arcane: her minigun is a bunny, her rocket launcher is a shark, her grenades are piranhas etc.

So then in S2 we have Sevika's Jinx-ified arm right? And it' also a piranha.

Sure there could be any number of both Doylist and Watsonian explanation (e.g. Jinx had to scavenge for parts) but hear me out.

League tends to lean heavily on color coding to signify the origin of things, and purple/pink tends to be almost exclusively reserved for a certain deep sea themed group.

THE VOID!

I don't think we're gonna do a full deep dive into like, Icathia or whatever, but there was Silco's whole thing about being transformed after bleeding out in the waters of Piltover bay.

And then of course there's the "temple".

I've seen a few theories about who this is supposed to be, including Janna or Orianna, but here's the thing. League tends to be pretty consistent with the hairstyles of their characters... Cause otherwise you can't tell the womens faces appart.

Notice how there appears to be some sort of indententation on the statues forehead? You know who else has that side swept medium length hair? The scrunkly:

BEL-BEL!!!

Now I can't see them actually doing anything major with this, without doing some sort of acrobatic fucking pirouette over the shark. I just think its really elegant world building that you get to see this existential thread moving around in the background of the story.

In away, it's like the reverse of Marvel's post-credit "it's me, Plonko" approach to setting up sequels.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

yippie!!

ok so one day i was hangin out and thinking about how jinx and murie are both my favourite little sad wet guys in my two fave medias of all ever *And* at the same time SO far apart on the spectrum personalitywise

and it took me listening to this to flip the switch on the Autism Blender and want to just fucking mash them together like a coked up toddler making Slime out of fish guts and hayao miyazakis mothers ashes because thats what i do thats my job💅👌so theeeen it comes out pretty reminiscent of my first muriel au that also sprung up from a song i like, just- a bit to the left? like, moving along on the scale from The OG not liking violence and being involved in it whatsoever, to AU 1 where i pictured him going "yeah ok fuck it this is what i do i guess" and revengy motives to his whole thing that i now connected with him more thru the song lmao it just made me realize the vision of like. jinxies "murderingmurderinmurdering 💕fun✨" aspect + his potential desire to still do good things despite being doomed to be a machine made for destruction (ignore the fact of that desire being nonexistent in his canon form because of how he perceives himself as a thing unable to achieve performing any good ever under any circumstance) (but still refusing to actively cause harm as he isolates himself to prevent any situations arising that would lead him to do so) (ignore all that) (were yassifying him a little were allowed its fine ive already lost the plot here anyway were wildin) so a vigilanty type beat and also ~my axe is my buddy🥰 we both cry with the trees😔✊ /me & my axe will bring the devil to his knees (✿◕‿◕ )~ goes hard as phUCK

so then all that led to This new V.3 mutation where hed be actually having fun with it........ so I kinda start turning him over in my brain some more, forgetting about jink by now and at first I go Huh this is kinda. him but lucioey a lil bit. and THEN i go hm. Well this ground is awful soft n ready to dig

so with all that out of the way i can now present!: Brand New Vague Shadow of a Concept of an Idea that ill Never Do Anything with

and I really don’t know how to verbalize this very well at all mmjfdh but like. Ok bulletpoints activate

Muriel:

From a badass warrior tribe

Didn’t get booted out cuz theyre fine this time oopsie no genocide

Hes in there way chillin way awesome way good at fighting everybody loves him

Hes like. Way himboey in this one. SO jock. Smiles a lot <3 <3 <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Like okay if i was actually serious about writing this I think id need a fucking lucio consultant because I really know zilch about that bitch but like okay you know how lucios kinda all scary n cunty and cunning and fancy and seems like hes got shit figured out. Until he *starts talking*? Muriel here is like that but hes just really fucking scary until he starts talking BUT not like normally where hes adorable just has resting bitch face, its just like. that part of him that came thru in the reversed ending at the very end, yknow. but make it less depressing ihjhsrfbjs hes like full letterman jacket highschool bully core total kurt & ram vibe, like ok youd see him on a battlefield ABsolutely WRECKIng some fools into a pulp with his bare bear hands and immediately after that he turns around like WOOOOOOO THAT’S what im TALKIN ABOUT LETS GO GUYS WHO WANTS A BEER *cut to him chugging an entire keg over his head with da boys around losing their minds* like think college frat but they raid villages for fun and profit. Pretty orc coded. Kinda thor coded. Actually exactly thorcoded wow that really is what I was going for. I was wondering why I couldn’t help imagining him with a australian accent, I guess that’s a mystery solved. anyway

Maybe his parents got killed in some other battle im not sure how to weave around that in detail yet BUT- ok so check this I thought ill have to give him some motive to wanna reach the devil somehow for,,.,,… something right. to make him fill an antagonist role So this might be stupid a lil I just thought of this and it needs to cook for sure but what if he just rolled up into vesuvia as the magic capital or something whtver, to figure out how to get to talk to the devil, cuz he just like, really wants his parents back cuz they got valhallad in some glorious combat, and they were cool and he misses them and they could fight some more cool fights together and pillage n chill jhbsfvjgzdc beCAUsE hear me out im rolling with the swap inversions opposites motive here right, so the thing that popped up in my head was- Lucio had the “I wanna kill my parents bcause I hate them and so I can rule and get what I want” thing goin at the start right, like that is basically what started it off he got his dad he didnt get morgha SO what IF I gave murie a “i wanna conquer this place and use it to get my parents back. cuz I missem :(” like fully turned it around idk IDK IT SEEMS MESSY IDK IS IT CUTE IS IT DUMB IT MAKES ME FEEL DUMB BUT IN THAT WAY THAT MIGHT MEAN THAT ITS ACTUALLY WORKING BUT I DONT KNOW *screaming with no air*

But overall yeah hes khal drogo but more noticeably himboey but not in a likeable way cuz were switching them so I cant make him likeable for myself hnjdgfgb leaning into popular dumb jock trope

UnLESSSS i DID combo it with murdermuriel au 1.0 some more and made their tribe like. Not murdery somehow like what would be the opposite of the og scourge roaming around ruining shit. well that was the og kokhuri but now I gotta do some fucking triple axels here to make it make sense so how the fuck do I make this version of kokhuri more warriory in culture than the original but still nice like robinhoody style jhbfsvhjbs this is falling tf apart might need to scrap it bc on lucios end itd be even harder wouldn’t it. Spartan cunts but they don’t kill people that’s a nono lmao

now im thinking some more about the aspect of lucio being, you know. a pretty shitty leader right, and how to incorporate that here, because i have no idea if im following an actual set rule here regarding whats swapped and how even, theres barely a theme im straight up just

but yeah so now i figure it could be murie tryna get his folks back because they were the actual defacto leaders of their tribe, he was just kinda still following along and doin his chores in being the uhh the face, the charisma, the one to kinda like. get the people on board easier with whatever decision they made for them and hyping it up as the best possible choice anyone could ever make and maybe even actually believing it too cuz theyre actually that tightknit and he trusts them with anything aw. is this too onedimensional or can i give my boy some good nice facking family relations at least in an alternate life ghhkjkfdh hes their pride n joy and can do no wrong but yeah the point is he himself hasnt actually made any decisions without them before, isnt very good at actually leading and strategizing and planning and knowing how everything complicated works and he knows it, so he sees his only solution in bringing them back to not let everything fall apart

SEE I BROUGHT IT AROUND I CLEANED UP NICE WITH OG LUCIO SETTING OFF FROM THE POINT OF FEELING LIKE HES THE BEST AT EVERYTHING AND SHOULD B RECOGNIZED AS SUCH AND TRYING TO GET RID OF HIS PARENTS TO GET IT AND MY BOY HERE ENDING UP EXACTLY OPPOSITE. GO SHAWTY GO SHAWTY IM SO SMART am i fucking up lulus backstory i feel like i am cuz im like wait what the fuck did he kill his dad for again. demonheart. deal. thing. whatd he wish. like he wasnt already running for count n shit yet he did want to climb up the ladder in his own tribe right i have no idea yell at me in comments thank you

I also don’t know if the first (last) scourge battle wouldve happened or nah

Lucio/Montag

Oh my fucking god what if I figured out an alternative L moniker for murie so theyd get to switch letters in their namesssssssss like lucio is a made up name he made it up so like UAGHASHG L.,,,...,, Lion ofthe,... south NO he HAS to be bEAR CODED AAFYFFHG BUT LUCIO HAD LEOPARD IMAGERY N SHIT RAAHAHHGH IM FITIN FOR MY LIFE HERE

Anyway he lives in a forest somewhere cuz his tribe threw him out fully voluntarily bc he sucks ass (or at least for their standards cuz I guess he would be way younger than 18 here for this) (Like a spartan type deal ur too weak we don’t want you *drops you off a cliff*  *but theres 4 feet of snow under it so he survives*  *that’s so fucking goofy hjbsfbj kinda suits him*) so uhhhhhh i don’t know where hed be currently chilling for an mc to meet him ever but yeah hes kinda Floki Vikings™ type of vibe at least visually that’s what came to mind first to picture him lol

look at this little blond rat bastard. adorable. becoming increasingly obsessed. picturing lucio with this exact hairline. moving on

and his thing is hes still insecure as fuck but worse at ignoring it and hiding it and hes a lil nervous bundle of sticks and always talking bc of it, kinda Bruno Madrigalesque type vibe julian but a pitch more pathetic who knew it could be done yknow? opposite of The OG The Mountain The Stone Cold Silent The Muriel The Scourge The Kokhuri The Third and also me when writing and not stopped in time

oh oh what if he was totes in denial that his tribe kicked him out and in his view hes on some super intense convoluted secret mission (lasting from. age 7 to now apparently) and as soon as hes done they’ll totally come back for him kdfsgjffd I thought it could either be his own copium or he took it from some last interaction with someone who took pity on him as a kid and wanted to give him some comfort, or something he misunderstood entirely

hm. They both have canid familiars idk what to do with that. muriel with two wolves tho. thats hot shit righ there if i do say so myself

oh now im toying with the idea of taking away muriels SUPPOSED YET UNCONFIRMED AS MY VERY CONTROLLED ACADEMIC STUDY HAS SHOWN COUGHCOUGHJHBSRGJBHF talking to animals buff, i dont wanna just take it and give it to lucio tho, but like. what the fuck else do i give him. astral projecting to tie into his ghost era? sounds dope actually alright lets do that lmao

ok its 1 30 am i hope this is comprehensible to anybody anywhere im zonking out now khbsfhbfk love u

@tetsuooooooooooo I've missed your essays, this was such a treat to log in to!!!

And WOW, thorcoded Muriel is not something I ever would have thought of on my own but oddly enough I feel like the AU you're coming up with could really work, goodness me. And the way you've inverted Lucio's character too!! I'd love to see how their interaction dynamics invert as well!

Always good to hear from you friend, hope you're doing well!

[lansplaining]

[okay now bear with me, what IF...]

Wen Qing did not expect to be called before Wen Ruohan himself. She had, in fact, largely dared to hope that her uncle had assigned her management of the Yiling Supervisory Office and promptly forgotten that she existed. She could kick herself for mistaking silence for disinterest. 

“Dear niece,” said her uncle. She hadn’t seen him face-to-face in a very long time, but he was, of course, unchanged. Wen Qing had treated many of the star disciples of the Wen and its subsidiary clans, and she had never met a cultivator as powerful as her uncle, though she’d heard rumors of juniors of other clans-- the Lan especially-- that might someday put him to shame. “I have been familiarizing myself with your work.”

Her stomach ran cold. “This one is honored. My work cannot merit the attention of a leader as busy as you, uncle.” 

“And yet it has,” he replied. “Indeed, I only regret I did not learn of it sooner. I have been remiss-- you must forgive me. But now is the time to make amends. I offer you the thing I am told every scholar desires: the opportunity to test your theories.” 

Wen Qing was grateful for the obvious excuse to bow in order to hide her face. “It is an honor this one does not deserve.”

“And yet you shall have it,” he drawled. “You will work with the Core-Melting Hand. It seems to me we have been wasteful. Why should such promising cores be destroyed-- when they could be put to use to strengthen our cultivators?” 

“If uncle will forgive me,” Wen Qing says. “My theory suggests the donor of the core must be willing.”

“I trust in your expertise,” said Wen Ruohan with a smile. 

That smile glowed behind Wen Qing’s lids when she closed her eyes. She couldn’t help but feel like a jinx-- she thought of the talented young Lan cultivators, and here was perhaps the most promising of them all: Zewu-jun, the heir himself, seized after months in hiding attempting to reach the Unclean Realm. As her hands hovered over him, she couldn’t help but feel somehow that this was wrong, that it was never meant to happen. She thought bitterly of her pride in never having killed anyone. Well, she thought. He won’t die. And if she didn’t do it, Wen Zhuliu would just crush his core anyway. Maybe if it was just removed, someday it could be put back. 

“Let’s begin,” she said.

Those words were the last thing she remembered. When she came to, the room was in rubble and Lan Xichen was gone. 

On the other hand, when Lan Xichen came to, it was in a cool, airy room that made him think first that he was back in Cloud Recesses and then, because that was impossible, that he might be dreaming. But his whole body ached in a way felt all too real. A man he’d never seen in teal robes that did not belong to any sect he knew of sat beside his bed.  “Zhangmen-shixiong,” he said, his face half-hidden behind his fan. “This is quite the role reversal. I really can’t approve.” 

[mcnagerie]

🍆↕️🛏️ ~Jinx, Vaggie and Charlie

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

I already answered 🍆 for Charlie and Vaggie and 🛌 for Vaggie!

I'm also an idiot and somehow read Jinx as Ivy because I've been answering so many questions back to back for Ivy fhjgdsfdsf, that's my b. I'm tired lmfao

🛏️what’s their favorite position?

Prooooooobably reverse cowgirl? She's not super picky though.

↕️are they a sub, dom, or switch? top, bottom, or switch?

She's a switch in both regards, and she doesn't really have a preference.

🍆how do they feel about toys? do they have any? what’s their favorite? do they use them with partners?

I feel like Jinx has definitely tried to make her own toys before, but they have, uh...not gone well. She's pretty impulsive when she gets the urge to masturbate, though, so she'll usually just use her hand.

↕️are they a sub, dom, or switch? top, bottom, or switch?

She's mostly a sub and a switch.

🛏️what’s their favorite position?

The lotus position! It's very intimate to her.

↕️are they a sub, dom, or switch? top, bottom, or switch?

She's almost strictly a sub and a bottom. With women, she can switch both around - rarely, but still.

[independentzaun]

Eyes moving to Ekko as he appeared in the door way Jinx’s little mutters stopped as her eyes narrowed a touch considering him. This was a new situation, and one she honestly wasn’t sure how to deal with. The fingers on one hand idly tapped at the counter top almost as though wanting to reach for something which knowing her would no doubt normally be a weapon. The issue was that for as much as she did have her issues with impulse control, and just… doing things at the same a surprisingly high amount of her chaos and confusing behavior was more deliberate than people realized. Jinx knew she was different, and so it suited her to play into it. After all it wasn’t like she had any reason not to no one wanted her around anyways monsters didn’t have to be “normal” or act like everyone else. At the end of the day fixing him up, pumping him full of shimmer, and than immediately turning on him would be almost boringly predictable as far as she was concerned.

Oh surprise surprise the crazy wild dog off it’s leash with Silco dead randomly turned on the person she said she’d help keep alive. Who could have predicted that! Besides she’d made a promise that he wasn’t going to die, and regardless of if she’d said it or not somehow that’d shifted into “wasn’t going to die today” and so Jinx simply watched him without any real intentions of violence. Unless of course he escalated things, or upset her, or something else happened. She knew full well that just because she didn’t intend for something to happen that did not in any way shape or form mean it would not happen.

“I guess so, yes.” Was it a gift? Did saving his life count as a gift? You gave gifts to Important People, but he was Important in a Bad way an enemy so there was no reason to give him a gift. Even to Jinx this was a weird moment, and she didn’t particularly want to deal with any gratitude he might have to offer although Jinx being Jinx she would have been irritated if he hadn’t said anything at all. Blinking once she found herself unable to resist the urge, and offered a smarmy smirk. “You’re so welcome! I’m sure you would have done the same for me.” A little soft chuckle came from her that sounded faintly deranged as Jinx was being purely sarcastic, and in no way shape or form believed he would have done the same for her. Even now after saving his life Jinx believed that in the reversed situation he would at best have left her to die, and at worst hastened her death himself. All the same she’d done what she’d done.

She didn’t just want him dead. She did want him dead... right?

She wanted him dead by her hands.

Pointing at the cup furthest away from her Jinx slipped down off the counter. “That one. If you want it.” It wasn’t as though she was going to beg him to drink it, or make a big deal out of it. She wasn’t even sure why she’d made him a cup other than just some strange whimsy, but than these days Jinx found herself following her whimsical urges more than ever. Turning around she started to open up the small number of cabinets looking for some kind of sweetener before hearing his question. Head turning, and tilting backwards her magenta eyes stared at him. “No. The people I cut open don’t get tea. They just die, and since it normally takes longer than when I shoot them they end up rather scared.” Jinx sounded entirely matter of fact even as she indirectly admitted that somehow he was in fact special, or at least different from other’s she’d worked on.

“Really, it’s interesting how people can be scared of certain things even if it doesn’t really make sense..” Looking back to the cabinets she reached up grabbing a container of some liquid sweetener. “Like third degree burns. I asked a doctor once about burns and they said because third degree burns mess up the nerves there’s not much pain if the entire burn is a third degree one. So you’d think it’d upset people less when you pour the right type of metal powder into a wound, and light it on fire. It’s just going to cauterize it and make it stop. Probably be some pain afterwards but it’d be on the outskirts of the burn, and not that bad. However I can tell you it really does not upset them less.”

Shrugging Jinx poured some of the sweetener into her tea before placing it on the counter, and sliding it down towards Ekko’s cup. The noticeable thing was that there was nothing in her voice to make it seem like she was threatening, or warning, or even trying to imply that “it could have been worse” or anything else. Jinx was purely, and utterly just giving voice to a random thing that had been brought to mind in almost the same way someone else might mention some book they’d read the other day upon being reminded of it. Taking a sip of her tea Jinx turned leaning against the counter once again watching Ekko.

“So I guess you going to stick around here until the shimmer wears off? Be awkward answering questions about your eyes, and what happened and all from your people right? Ohhhh, Ekko’s gona have a secret.”

@misfits-of-zaun

“Down the hallway. Second door on the left. There shouldn’t be anyone else here.”

Surprisingly, there were no barbed remarks or incendiary comments from Jinx; she simply gave the directions he'd requested. Wasting no time, Ekko ducked through the second door on the left. In his urgency, he closed the door harder than he intended to, and the slamming sound made him flinch. Shit. Right. Augmented strength.

Thankfully, the door had a lock. Being behind a locked door technically meant very little when the other person in the building had the shimmer-infused strength to break it down with ease, but the distance granted by that additional little barrier made Ekko feel a little calmer.

Finding a fresh cloth under the sink, he set about the awkward process of trying to clean himself up. The cold water on his flushed, sweaty skin was grounding. It soothed some of the dreadful thrumming in his head. He wiped at his face, his neck, his arm. Delicately dabbed around his wounded shoulder. Wrung out rusty brown water and watched it go down the drain, again and again.

....Fuck it.

With shaking hands, Ekko yanked off his scarf and dumped it in the sink, followed by his shirt. Scrubbed at them both, trying to get the bloodstains out. Having something non-violent and repetitive to do with his hands right now felt like a good idea, and he was weirdly overhot anyway.

The hallway outside was eerily quiet. Ekko half-expected the handle to rattle, or for a knock to sound, but it seemed like he was being left alone for now. A tactfully diplomatic choice, for Jinx.

After wringing them out as thoroughly as he dared, Ekko pulled his clothes back on. The cool dampness wasn't actually unpleasant when he felt almost feverishly warm. He'd attract significantly less attention on his way home in wet clothes than he would in bloodstained clothes, anyway.

But in order to head home, he'd have to stop hiding in the bathroom and face what was waiting for him outside.

The mere thought of Jinx right now sparked a contradictory storm of emotions in his head. Ekko didn't understand why she'd done any of this. She'd hit him and pointed a gun at him - then she'd promised to save his life. She'd tied him down and forced him to endure the torture of surgery without any painkillers or anaesthetic - and enjoyed the fear and pain she was inflicting - but he was, bizarrely, still breathing in spite of (because of?) her terrifyingly direct intervention.

...So long as his wound didn't get infected, anyway.

Ekko took a moment to examine his shoulder once again, running a finger over the neat line of sutures, not quite touching. It would leave a nasty scar. He could already tell that much. A physical reminder of what had happened tonight - as if he'd ever forget.

Ekko closed his eyes, gripping the edge of the sink. Took a deep, fortifying breath. Exhaled.

Get your shit together. You still need to get home.

The sound of the door unlocking felt far, far too loud in the silence - like an announcement throughout the entire house. Warily, Ekko ventured out, running a damp hand through his locs, awkward and on edge. There was no sign of Jinx, but he could hear what sounded like... a kettle boiling?

Steadfastly averting his eyes from the bloodstained table ahead of him, Ekko padded down the hall until he found the source of the sound - a kitchenette. Jinx was perched on the counter, looking oddly reticent. Almost tired. Muttering away to herself, as if she hadn't yet noticed him.

The sight of her always triggered a strong gut reaction, but in his current shimmer-augmented state, the emotions felt sharper - a violent swooping sensation in his stomach, not unlike missing a step on the way down the stairs. There was the familiar jolt of antipathy and unease, of course, but also a bitter ache of grief, and oddly enough, a rush of bewildered longing mixed in. The volatile concoction of conflicting feelings did not help his efforts to clear his head in the slightest.

“Tea...tea, tea, tea… wonder if there’s any sweetener...heh… Save Ekko’s life, and than brew tea. What’s next?”

There were two cups on the countertop next to her. The sight of such a small detail made his heart lurch. Was... was one of those supposed to be for him?

Or is she expecting to turn you over alive to someone else, shortly? Whispered a paranoid little voice in his head.

Maybe this just her attempt at stalling for time until they get here.

That didn't feel right - hell, Jinx had a far higher price on her head than he did currently - but then nothing felt right about this situation.

He shouldn't stay - hell, he should already be gone. Ekko knew this.

Still, he found himself loitering in the doorway, tense and hard-eyed, watching her with sharp appraisal.

"...Guess I should be saying thank you," Ekko spoke up quietly at last; his acerbic tone of voice very clearly conveyed that this grudgingly civil acknowledgement was already at the extent of gratitude he was willing to give.

Why did you do this?

What do you want from me?

Where do we go from here?

Does this even change anything?

The questions lingered on his tongue, heavy and confronting.

"Which cup's mine?" Was what came out of his mouth instead. Because some questions were easier to ask than others.

"D'you make tea for all the boys you bring home and cut open?" Ekko's follow-up query had a brittle, sarcastic edge; a guarded effort to probe at her intentions, to provoke a reaction that might shed some light into her bizarrely sentimental-seeming behaviour. His pink-tinged gaze was dark and intense.

"Or am I just special?"

@independentzaun

[moonwaterart]

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Here's the one for Shamura. If you'd like to read all of them as well as the ones for Narinder and Lambert when they come out, please click here and bookmark it so you get an email for when it updates.

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The One Who Remembers

“Death… reversed…” They looked up from their reading towards their bishop. Shamura had asked them to read the cards that night before going to talk to Narinder, but brushed off their warning as their vision didn’t match up with what they thought would come to pass. Now as they stare at the bandages that covered the spider’s head, nothing but guilt washed over them. Somehow the cards jinxed the siblings meeting with their brother. Somehow Shamura was wrong. They were never wrong.. So why was it wrong this time?

Yes, before they joined Shamura’s sect, they did apprentice under one of the most powerful fortune tellers known throughout the land; but they as Shamura’s follower wasn’t powerful enough to infuse magic into their cards… right?

The cards in front of them didn’t show anything good. Five of Cups, Nine of Swords and Death Reversed. Given their meanings, it was nothing good. This reading was for themselves, of course and it told them everything they already knew, yet didn’t want to admit. The guilt they felt from what happened, the unacceptance of the outcome. Balance spreads were always a pain to accept, but it was something that stared them in the face. With a sigh, they scooped the cards up and shuffled their deck again.

There definitely was a noticeable shift within the sects of the Old Faith when Narinder was sealed away. No one knew what happened until the Bishops all came back in noticeable states of disarray and mutilation. The clerics of the Silk Cradle ran to aid Shamura as Heket teleported in with them. Their head had been split open and blood flowed freely downward, staining their robe and the ground with every step they took. It was a gruesome sight for all those within the inner sanctum. Shamura didn’t awaken for a week, their high priests and priestesses running themselves ragged doing what they could to keep things running. They practically ran the sect now.

When Shamura finally awoke, the first one they saw was the one who told the prediction that would curse the bishops into almost failing. The tears they held back for so long finally spilled at Shamura reached a hand over towards them. The fear they felt of possibly being shunned and exiled from the sect finally crashing down on them. “Great Leader, I’m so sorry! Please! I-I didn’t mean for this to happen, you just wanted a simple reading and I- Please give me another chance! I’m sorry!!”

“...What… do you mean? You.. didn’t do this…” Their words hurt even more given how slow they came out. Shamura having to think about how to talk scared them. What scared them even further was how erratic and unpredictable their bishop became.

As they shuffled their cards, they watched as Shamura’s demeanor changed on a dime and with a purple flair of their eyes and a wave of their hand, the ant that they were talking to was swallowed up by black ichor and was no more. The bishop’s reaction was to then look around, muttering something to themself and wandering in their follower’s direction. They seemed to have these moments of clarity followed closely by brain fog or anger and the cycle repeated.

“There you are…” their words slow, yet as thoughtful as their follower remembered. “You seem… lost in thought.”

“H-hello, Great Leader. I’m merely asking the cards for guidance today. How did your bandage change go?”

“Oh just… wonderful. The clerics are… very knowledgeable in their craft.” The spider took a seat by the anxious follower. “Would you mind doing me a favor?”

“O-Of course, Great Leader! You know I would never turn down what you request.”

“Good. That’s… that’s good to hear.” They nodded to themself. “My visions are… fuzzy as of late. As you are… my favorite… would you ask your cards for help?”

Oh no…

Dread washed over them at the request, yet they did their best to hide their state of mind. “Oh. That won’t be a problem, Great-”

“Shamura… Please… that title rings in my ears to the point where they leak. Call me by my name.”

“S-shamura… okay…” They cleared their throat. “What would you like me to check?”

A bright smile appeared on the bishop’s face. “There is… a vision I had recently… a lamb… They wore the crown of The Chained One. I would like… a five card spread. Judgment in the middle.”

“I… I see… Okay. A decision making five card spread with your card in… in the middle. I can do that.” They shuffled their cards a moment longer, spreading them out and scooping them back up before laying out each card needed; one on the top, three in the middle; making sure the center one was the judgment card, and one on the bottom. Shamura leaned in close as they set the rest of the cards to the side. They took a deep breath and flipped over the top card.

“The Fool… well… looks like something is going to happen.” The follower stated, pausing for a moment. When their bishop didn’t respond, they tapped the center card. “Now… because you requested this card, this is your card. Order, Reflection… you want to know how to handle this vision.”

Reaching for the third card, they turned it over and froze. “The… Wheel of Fortune… reversed.” They noticed the hairs on their leader’s face stand on end. Just from their demeanor, they didn’t like that. “A change is coming… one you will have no control over…”

“I will… keep in control… that much I will make sure of. Flip the last two cards.”

“Shamura-”

“If you wish to remain my favorite then do as I ask. Flip. Them.”

“I-I understand…” They sucked in another breath and flipped the final two cards, one after another, an icy wave of dread finding purchase in their heart. “T-ten of swords… King of Pentacles… Sh-shamura I-”

The bishop stood up. “I’ve seen enough… My decision is made. Thank you for helping me… clear that up.” They reached out, patting the head of their follower. “You always were my favorite.”

“A-and… what’s your decision..?”

“No lamb shall see the day that they inherit The Red Crown.”

[padfootastic]

Can I please rant for a bit? One thing that really irks me when it comes to how the fandom sees Sirius is that he was somehow mediocre at magic. He became an Animagus, McGonagall says he's 'exceptionally bright' and Slughorn calls him 'talented', plus Dumbledore says he is 'clever' and what he did was 'extraordinary' (as in, he became an Animagus at fifteen). Oh yeah, he also helps make the Marauder's Map and retains his magic in Azkaban (Dementors are supposed to drain away power). He summons six objects at once, he displays healing skills, duels Dolohov and Bellatrix (and only lost bc he got cocky + Bellatrix was a decade or so older so she fought the entirety of the war, talk about pure talent), two of the most dangerous DE after being rusty for twelve years, almost cracks the GOF plot on scraps of newspapers. He even shows knowledge of very abstract and rare magic ('the reverse spell effect?'). His idea of fun with his mates was basically cartography and the height of complex self-transfiguration, they were all nerds. I'm sure if he'd had the chance he'd have been so dangerous and a bloody extraordinary wizard, like there's the Dumbledore/Grindelwald/Voldemort and Sirius and James are directly behind them. I have no doubt Remus wasn't lying when he said 'they were the cleverest students in the entire school'. I wouldn't be surprised if him and James (and Lupin I guess) also invented spells like Snape. It sounds like their idea of fun. Oh yeah, they were also well-versed in hexes and jinxes that they knew obscure illegal ones like the Bertram Aubrey head enlargement hex. But they think he's an idiot bc he acts recklessly when he's very emotionally compromised and mad with grief/depressed. That's not idiocy, that's a man who needs therapy. Sorry for making this so long feel free to ignore it was just therapeutic to write. But like the amount of times I've seen Sirius and James ask Lily for help on the Marauder's Map is mind boggling, they literally didn't need it.

anon, you have my whole heart rn. feel free to rant in my ask/inbox anytime u want. in fact, i’m actually requesting u to do it more bc this was so articulate i actually don’t have a lot to say for once lol

(a while ago, i did a character bingo where i ticked off sumn like ‘terrified of them in real life’ or something for sirius. there’s a very good reason for that lol)

i honest to god cannot deal with the whole ‘stupid sirius’ thing. thankfully i don’t see it as often now as i used to it man, even one fic w is one too many for me. it’s just so,,,,jarring ykno? because his intelligence wasn’t just tell but very, very show and to still bypass all that and genuinely believe he was stupid is just rly weird to me. and it’s often hand in hand with all the drama queen characterisation and everything i’ve ranted about before which just makes it so much worse.

and god. the marauders were honestly nerds. it’s a wonder they were cool (i mean, we don’t know if they were but i definitely hc it so. ykno) bc look at these fucking idiots. everyone is spending time fucking around while they’re playing around with advanced, extremely dangerous & illegal magic. i love that sm for them. honestly, i find it perfectly plausible they could have invented spells (maybe their own for the map?) but i also love them picking up obscure or tricky magics. like, i have this hc that j&s could duel w both hands bc they trained for a scenario where that could happen. or sirius started etching runes before he was taught formally. just,,,small things like that ykno?

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter one //darkwizard!tom hiddleston x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

Summary:

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist*

Notes:

This is a fanfic inspired by The Auction by LovesBitca8. I have so much love for the story and I also REALLY wanted to see Tom Hiddleston as a Dark Wizard in this universe with a plus size protagonist. It was writing itself in my head long before I put it on paper.

This is a dark fic with explicit moments of no-con, violence, and degradation of the plus size main character throughout its entirety, so please take that into consideration ahead of time.

words for this chapter: 4.9k

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

CHAPTER ONE:

We were losing.

That’s all I could concentrate on. We were losing and it was hopeless. I dodge curse and jinx after curse and jinx, somehow managing to send just as many. In this chaos, this crumbling ancient castle, surrounded by dozens of witches and wizards I didn’t know, everything is becoming too much. These literal children fighting the darkest and most powerful of our kind is heartbreaking. A part of me is aching for the life I had before all this.

The member of the Order of the Phoenix I’d been deployed to the grounds with, Arthur Weasley, is nowhere to be seen. I can no longer tell who was part of our group and where they were, the figures in the dim light are indistinguishable from good and bad.

I duck behind a thick tree to avoid a curse. Another one doesn’t follow and I chance a peak around the corner just in time to see the Quidditch Pitch ignite with a deafening boom. With the new golden glow lighting the field, I can now see around me. Well, as much as I could see without my glasses anyway. Only a few yards away, a hooded figure stands from his crouched position, his height silhouetted against the flames.

“I thought that was you,” he says, chuckling darkly. He moves closer, taking slow, sauntering steps. He removes his hood, a wicked smirk across his handsome face. “I believe you have something of mine.”

I point his wand at him and shrug, desperate not to show my fear. “Well that fucking sucks, doesn't it?"

Before he can say anything else, I throw a stunning spell at him. He easily reverses the spell, sending it back to me. I duck behind the tree again, swirling around to the other side to shoot beams of light like lasers from the tip of the wand. He quickly raises the length of his cloak like a shield, the beams landing on the black fabric and sizzling like the burnt end of a cigarette. The second I take an advancing step out from behind the tree, he waves his wand and an invisible force knocks me off my feet. I land flat on my back in the grass, a root from the tree digging into my side.

A familiar hysterical cackle comes bounding down the hill from the direction of the castle and I twist my head up to see her. She stops dead in her tracks when she spots me. She looks curiously from me to the other Death Eater.

“Surely you aren’t still dealing with this filth, Thom?” Bellatrix taunts, her eyes wide and wild as she stares at us. “The Dark Lord requires us in the Forest.”

He was beside her now. “You know how I take pleasure in tormenting them,” he purrs to her.

With her eyes on his, she points her wand at me, and the most excruciating pain I’ve ever felt in my life courses through my body. I don’t know how much time passes under the cruciatus curse, but when it ends, my voice is hoarse and I could have passed out asleep right there in the grass, every part of my body aching and exhausted. I’m barely aware that Bellatrix and Thomus were still there.

“THAT is how you torment them!” she hisses, pulling out a dagger. My eyes widen. I know what this woman could do with that. With what little strength I have, I’m desperate to try to get to my feet. “And this is how you kill them.”

The force of the dagger in my side sends me back to the ground. The wand lands at their feet.

“As if you needed reminding,” she says coldly, brushing past him in the direction of the forest.

He pauses a moment, eyes lingering at the blade embedded in my side. I can feel the warm blood quickly dampening my clothes as I stare back, seeing stars. His eyes flicker to my face briefly before he picks up his wand and continues on after Bellatrix. I close my eyes.

~*~

After months of making my Polyjuice potion and the several trials to make sure it would last long enough, at long last it was perfect. When I look in the mirror hanging on the back of her office door, the middle-aged face of Rita Skeeter stares back at me. 

“Let me go, you fat bitch!”

I turn to the real Rita Skeeter, her tight blond curls askew and her red lipstick smeared across her cheek. She struggles against the ropes magically binding her to her chair. I replace my wand with her own, sliding mine into my purse with an undetectable extension charm. 

“Silencio,” I whisper, pointing her wand at her mouth. She openly gapes at me, still trying to voice her protest. After rummaging through her purse for her makeup, I manage to replicate her thin arched brows and apply the red lipstick exactly as she has it. As I do this, I let her wand hover behind my head, curling my new blond locks to match hers. Finally I slide her half-moon glasses onto my face. I transfigure my clothes, baggy on her, into the exact acid green dress she’s wearing, the fit snug. The only thing I dreaded wearing were the heels. 

The last thing I do before leaving the office, is put her into a full body-bind curse. When I close the door to the room, I flip the sign to read Out of Office. 

Looking like Rita, getting into the Ministry of Magic is easy. Working directly under her as an intern for the Daily Prophet, I discovered that it wouldn’t be a shock to see her walking around. She often lurked, trying to ascertain any information about… anything. As long as it was juicy she could spin it any way she fucking pleased. It was a talent really.

I try not to look like I’m just wandering through the halls of the ministry. My nose is buried in a notebook, the matching acid green Quick-Notes quill clenched tight in my hand. I’m extremely glad I took a double dose of the Draught of Peace before descending in the decrepit red phone booth into the Atrium. 

Luckily, I manage to find Umbridge’s office easily on Level One. Her door sports two plaques that read her name and HEAD OF THE MUGGLEBORN REGISTRATION COMMISSION, respectively. An eyeball swirls in its socket between them. I’m about to knock on the door when I hear a voice behind me.

“Skeeter, did you have an appointment?” a balding man says. He’s standing in front of rows of workers at desks, magically assembling pamphlets. He looks a little disheveled. They all do.

I put on a coy smile and approach the man, taking my time to answer him. Next to him is a pile of those pamphlets. I arch my brow when I read the title, Mudbloods and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Pureblood Society, and slip one into the crook of my arm. 

“Is she not in?” I say, finally dragging my eyes back to him. A smile remains plastered to my lips as I hope I’ve mastered her accent.

“She just left for the courtrooms.”

“Ah! Lovely.” I don’t bother to thank him, and head in the direction of the elevators, my mind scrambling for the route to get there. When the elevator voice announces the Atrium, I get off, looking to ask someone in guest services how to get there. Hopefully Skeeter’s never been to the courtrooms. 

Just as I get to the horrid Magic is Might fountain, there’s a commotion behind me, coming from the elevators. Three people burst through the crowd of dark robed wizards, one of them looking very much like Harry Potter. He has the exact object I’m looking for, dangling from his hand as they run. 

The quill, notepad, and pamphlet get shoved into my purse so I can pull out my own wand. I hold it up to my eyeline, thankful that Skeeter is far-sighted, as I point my wand directly at the golden locket. 

“Materiei vestigium,” I whisper and a green blinking light that only I can see shoots out from the tip. It flies through the frenzied crowd to land right on the object as he and his companions jump into one of the fireplaces and escape.

~*~

The blinking green light on my wand had been growing steady the further I walked into the Forest of Dean. The sunlight had been slowly dissipating for hours now. I’d have to perform the illumination spell before too long. 

I get to a clearing, the sound of rushing water nearby. The blinking speeds up, going so fast the light remains constant, but pulsing. I walk further into the clearing, confused. There’s nothing here.

Well, nothing that I could see.

“Well fuck,” I mutter into the darkness. I trust my tracking spell. It has to be here somewhere. Maybe it’s been hidden? Placed here to keep safe? “Lumos.”

I begin circling the clearing, pointing the light from my wand anywhere suspicious. There are plenty of crevices here to hide a locket. In the crook of a tree or buried in the leaves? That would take forever to search, though. Maybe if I focused on the darkness from it, I could find it here. Like I did in Diagon Alley. 

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, trying to focus. The memory of the feeling is front and center. It’s like my mind is sniffing out the source of a scent. It’s close. My feet follow where my senses direct me, making a beeline for where the darkness is. 

I have to come to a complete halt when I bump into something and stumble backwards. When I open my eyes, nothing’s there. I hold my hand up, attempting to advance again. I hear a muffled Stupefy before the spell hits me and my body tumbles to the ground.

~*~

When I come to, I’m tied to a tree, wandless. Three people are standing around me, wands pointed at my face. My eyes focus on Harry Potter, the locket is around his neck. I’ve found what I had been looking for. 

“Is that a horcrux?” I demand. They had wanted it, broke into the ministry for it. They have to know what it is. Harry Potter and his friends glance at each other.

“It might be,” the redheaded boy says. His arm’s in a sling. “What’s it to you?”

“I’m hunting them.”

“Hunting them?”

“Yes.” I nod toward the locket. “You got it from that pink woman in the ministry a couple days ago? Umbridge?”

“Do you work for the ministry?” Harry asks. 

“No, but I was there,” I say, trying to sound as honest as possible. I need them to trust me. We’re on the same side. “trying to do the same thing.”

They look at each other again. The girl, who I recognize now as Hermione Granger, opens up my backpack, which had transfigured back from the purse I’d used as Rita Skeeter. She begins to dig through it.

“What do you want it for?”

“I want to destroy it.”

Harry falters, his wand lowering briefly before his eyes harden and he raises it again. “Why do you want to destroy it, exactly?”

“What does it matter why I want to destroy it? You know who it belongs to.” They still don’t lower their wands. Not that I blame them. I look at my backpack. “Accio.”

Hermione gives a startled little gasp when a small shield-shaped wooden plaque shoots up into her hand. She pulls it out further, dropping my bag, and they point their illuminated wands at it. The wood is heavily charred with burn marks surrounding a splintered hole in the middle, traces of molten gold glisten under the light. Under the black burns letters could barely be made out: AWARDED TO T.M. RIDDLE FOR SPECIAL SERVICES TO HOGWARTS. 

“How’d the bloody hell you get that?” the red-head demands. 

“You’ve seen it before?” she asks him.

He nods. “Yeah, Filch made me polish the metal piece on it four times – kept saying it wasn’t clean enough.”

“I think that was because you vomited slugs all over it, Ron,” Harry says.

The red-headed boy – Ron – shook his head to brush off his annoyance. “Point is, I remember this thing from Hogwarts. I also remember it not being where it was supposed to be the last time we were in there.”

“When Angelina was locked in the trophy room?” Hermione gasps. “I remember that.”

They look to me and I shrug. “Look, I don’t know about all that. I’ve never been to Hogwarts.”

“Then how did you get this?”

“I found it hidden in my friends room,” my voice cracks. I haven’t talked about her in so long. I clear my throat. “There were some pretty good Disillusionment and Notice-Me-Not charms on it, but it was almost like someone wanted me to find it. You’d think something as important as that would have been hidden a lot better… But I could sense the darkness and found it.”

“Did your friend put it there?” she asks. 

I look down. “I don’t think so. She was a No-Maj.”

“No-Maj?” says Ron.

“No magic?” I explain. “You call them muggles here.”

“So what you’re saying is that your muggle friend had this from a school neither of you have ever been to?” says Harry. I grimace and nod. “Why’s it look like this?”

“Because I stabbed it with a basilisk fang I got from the Dark Arts professor at Ilvermorny.”

There’s sudden hope in all of their expressions and Harry asks, “Do you still have it?”

I shake my head. “The fang was so old it’s a miracle it even worked. It splintered apart the moment I stabbed it and couldn’t be fixed. Then the professor suggested I go see Albus Dumbledore to see if he knew anything more about Horcruxes, but when I got here… He had just died.”

“And how did you know about the locket?” Hermione asks.

“I saw a guy sell it to Umbridge in Knockturn Alley,” I say and then stare at the glistening locket around Harry’s neck. “The darkness coming from it is the same as that plaque. So I knew they were connected.”

“You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” Harry says. “Why do you care so much about destroying it?” 

I give a twisted smile. “You mean, besides the fact that the wizard who created it is like, awful?” My smile fades and I sigh. “The process for creating one, involves killing someone. My best friend is dead because of him. I don’t know why he chose her, but he came all the way to the US to do it. It’s only fair I come all the way here to return the favor. Or at least help... somehow.”

~*~

The first thing I’m conscious of are the lights. They’re so bright. I try squinting to see, but that isn’t enough. I try to lift my arm to hover my hand over my eyes, but my arm feels like jelly. The second thing I’m conscious of are the voices. I only catch snippets in between bouts of sleep.

“…why’d you even bother? She’s as good as dead…”

“…I did the spell… she’s not much to look at, but I just couldn’t pass up the chance at 5,000 galleons…”

“… no one even knows who she is…”

“… don’t think no one will care…”

The next time I wake fully, I’m in what’s clearly a makeshift hospital, no doubt to treat the survivors of the battle. There isn’t anyone I recognize. Most of the beds are empty, though clearly had been occupied at some point.

I try moving, sitting up even, but it’s useless. It seems the dagger in my side has been removed. No doubt my lethargy is due to blood loss and the lingering effects of the cruciatus.

I remember how Ron’s sister-in-law, Fleur, had treated Hermione after we had escaped the Malfoys. A hot bath and a massaging of the most damaged muscles is the most that can be done. If only I’d paid more attention during the Special Ed Healing classes at Ilvermorny. Maybe I would’ve been able to help her and myself.

I lie awake waiting for someone to come until I don’t have the will to keep my eyes open any longer. I fall asleep wondering if Harry, Ron, and Hermione had made it. If the only ones I’d come to care for had survived.

~*~

The wand is still shoved against my throat as a strong grip wraps around my elbow, pulling me forward down the large hall.

“Make sure she’s THOROUGHLY interrogated, Thomus!” the wild-haired, crazy eyed witch orders. Looking back, I make eye contact with Harry and Ron before they’re taken out of sight through a darkened doorway.

We stop abruptly and I’m shoved through a pair of double doors into an office. He tosses me to the floor, and I immediately turn to face him, shuffling away until my back hits the front of the desk in the middle of the room. I hear the door lock as I’m scanning the room for possible weapons, keeping his form in my peripheral vision.

“Look at me.” A command. An order. His voice is deep and I’m reluctant to give in, my teeth clenched in dread of what could possibly happen in the next few moments. I have a feeling this man knows a few dark and twisted ticks to torture someone. I make sure my Occlumency walls are sturdy before giving in to his command.

Little did I know the moment our eyes met, he was prepped with bombs to tear those walls down and let himself in. I shove forward dumb useless memories; doing my makeup, laughing with my friends at Ilvermorny, a scene from my favorite movie – nothing to pique his interest, but just enough to keep him distracted and searching.

Slowly, while I let the endless queue of memories play on the television in my mind, I follow the connection and fade into his own. His mind gives no resistance as I drift like a ghost from scene to scene, watching through his eyes. A tall blond boy with a long narrow face trips him, and the boy snickers before offering him a hand. Another scene – the man holding a very fair-haired girl by the throat, and the woman from earlier is pointing her wand at a cowering fair-haired man, screaming threats at him. Another memory, the same man and woman are sharing a heated kiss in a dark corner, away from the crowd of masked Death Eaters. They break apart when an oily black haired man sweeps into the room.

A girl screaming in the distance drops me out of his head, falling like dead weight. Hermione.

I’m back in this office. I bring my eyes to stare into his cold blue ones, his thin mouth almost in a sneer as he glares at me.

“Had your fun?” he bites out.

I scramble to my feet, quickly putting the large imposing desk between us, trying to ignore the pounding headache. “Seems like you did, too.”

“Ah, yes, I certainly loved watching you ridicule yourself in front of a mirror.” He points his wand towards me, his face a full sneer now. “What a fantastic waste of time.”

Hermione screams again.

“Y’know, not as much as this conversation, I’ll have to admit,” I say. “Why don’t we speed things up?”

Before I can barely finish thinking it, his wand is flying out of his hand towards my out-stretched one. He lunges, trying to recapture it, but instead it goes flying across the room behind piles of books on the floor. We make eye contact again for a split second before we both dive for it. He reaches the corner first and is hastily toppling the piles over when I doze full force into his side with my shoulder.

“Fuck!” he exclaims as I tackle him. He stumbles onto his side, his arm swinging wildly at me. A backhand goes across my face, cutting my lip with my teeth and losing my glasses amongst the books. I shove my way towards the wand anyway. My focus wasn’t on me getting the wand, but on him not getting it.

Finally, I see the wand, and just as I can barely pull it between my fingers, two strong arms wrap themselves around my waist and yank me back. The wand goes flying as we fall – him onto the floor, and me on top. The desperate move knocked the breath out of him and I use it to my advantage. I elbow him in the ribs, making him release his hold. Then I roll onto my knees and immediately spot the wand just above his head. He hasn’t noticed it yet because he’s still writhing under me.

Holding my breath, I quickly crawl over him until I can snatch up the wand. When I sit up, I’m straddling his hips. I lean on my right hand, holding him down by his shoulder, his own wand shoved up under his jaw. The only sound to be heard is our panting from the tussle.

“Ha ha,” I tease, smirking. “I win.”

If looks could kill, his glare sure would have torn me apart. He struggles against my hold, grabbing my hips and moving us just enough for me to realize my center was over his… my eyes widen. A loud crash of shattering glass comes from the distance, the sound honing in my determination. Before he can make another move, I stun him.

I scramble to my feet, quickly forgetting about the stunned man on the floor. Giving the door a quick Alohomora, I slide out, going in the direction of the noise. Just as I get to the large room, a body whizzes past me to the floor with a loud thwump.

“Stupid elf!” Bellatrix screams. “You could’ve killed me!”

I see Harry, Ron, and Hermione with the others standing by the bannister across the room. Pieces of glass and broken metal lay in a heap between us. I take a few steps towards them, only being noticed when I step on a piece of glass.

The wild-haired woman whirls, her arm flinging a dagger aimed straight for me. Before I’ve had time to think, my wandless hand is up, and the knife stalls in mid-air. I let it drop and briskly walk towards my friends, my wand hand now up.

“Dobby never meant to kill,” says the elf as I reach them. “Dobby only meant to maim or seriously injure.”

Behind my back, I hear the beginning of a spell, and I turn in time to see the elf snap the blond witch’s wand into his own grasp.

“How dare you take a witch’s wand?” Bellatrix woman shrieks. “How dare you defy your masters!”

“Dobby has no master,” the elf declares. “Dobby is a free elf! And Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!”

Dobby reaches for everyone’s hand, and we disparate.

~*~

I struggle to tell how much time has passed. It felt like it could have been days, but all of the hard sleep left me unsure. The converted hospital room has no windows, and the Healers that came in periodically refused to speak to me.

I can only assume the worst outcome has happened. From my vantage on the grounds, it seemed like we were losing, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to believe we lost. Harry Potter must be dead, who knows how many others. What was the value of keeping me alive? Of healing me?

When I’m able to sit and stand on my own, men who were obviously Death Eaters came to escort me. They’re staring makes me instantly uncomfortable because I’m only wearing a one size too small hospital gown. The hallway they lead me down is long, the stumble of my bare feet lightly echoing against the super reflective black tiles. Our destination is a rest room with a few shower stalls.

“Wash,” one of them says. They don’t leave, but they turn their backs.

After I turn on the water, I gingerly remove the old gown, careful not to pull at my wound. I peel back a corner of the light bandaging. There’s deep bruising, but the gash where the knife had been buried to the hilt had been closed, simply a red scab now. Resealing the bandage, I squint to read a small, messy signature on my left forearm. G. Goyle in black ink. Confused, I rub it under the water, but it doesn’t budge. A tattoo… a brand mark. Ownership.

I try to pretend as if I were alone, and doing my best to Occlude my panic and anxiety while I wash away the dirt and grime. I have no idea what they’re keeping me around for. I wonder if there are others. Didn’t the man say something about galleons? I have no idea what that meant.

I quickly towel off. The warm water and crappy shampoo made the bright pink color of my shoulder length hair run and stain the white towel. I pull on the fresh hospital gown. It’s also too tight and I fold my arms over my chest.

Once done, they lead me across the hall to a room with an exam table in the middle and order me to lay on it. Then they leave and return with two Healers.

“We’ll test it on this one, too,” one of the Death Eaters says. I see the older looking Healer nod. She pulls out her wand and does a diagnostic charm on my wound.

“Are you pregnant?” she asks as she looks over the results.

“No,” I reply, my voice hoarse.

“Your wound is healing nicely. You should be able to take the bandage off in another day or so.” Her voice cracks a couple times as she speaks and her eyes keep bouncing to the Death Eaters standing by the door. I nod in acknowledgement.

She runs another diagnostic spell, a general one this time. It hovers over my body, blinking with lights that I couldn’t remember the meaning of. She looks to the other, younger healer. “Has she been getting food along with the rest of them?”

The young healer shakes her head. “No, she’s mostly been unconscious.”

“Dolohov, when she joins the others, ensure she eats. Her nutrition levels are low,” she says to the men. One of them scoffs.

“I will do no such thing,” Dolohov says. “From the looks of her she could obviously stand to miss a meal or two, I think.”

The healer clenches her jaw and I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“Do the other spell,” the younger Death Eater says, his tone eager.

I watch as the younger one mutters a spell and a warm feeling washes over me, beginning at the tip of my head and toe, meeting in the middle over my stomach. There was a little pressure, and a glowing white light floated up from my belly button.

“Fuck yeah,” exclaims the young Death Eater.

“Don’t get too excited, Goyle,” says Dolohov. “I couldn’t name a single person who’d pay 5,000 galleons for her, even if she is a virgin. You’d be lucky to get 2,000.”

Goyle. He must be the one who branded me.

“I’m sure I can show off her potential,” Goyle grumbles. “She’s got a mouth, doesn’t she?”

I grit my teeth to hide my scowl. I’m both shocked and offended. What the actual fuck are they talking about?

“Give her the suppressants, too,” the older one orders. “One should do it, she’s just a mudblood.”

The younger witch helps me up, holding my hand. The older one slides a vial into my hand. I hesitate, sniffing it apprehensively. Minty.

“I’ll shove it down your throat if you don’t take it,” the older Death Eater snarls.

The young witch smiles and nods reassuringly. I take deep breaths before tipping the vial into my mouth. A chill spreads through me, smothering the hum of my magic like fire in the rain. Tears prick my eyes.

“Now the last one,” Dolohov orders. The healers both hesitate this time. “We talked about this. We’re doing this to all of them, regardless of your experience with the procedure.”

The younger witch looks resigned. “Lie back,” she says to me.

The older one holds her wand up again, standing near my hips. She presses her hand on my waist, the opposite side of the wound. When she points her wand over my pelvis, realization hits me as to what’s about to happen. With no magic, my Occlumency isn’t present anymore and my panic and fear have sprung forward with full force. I contemplate saying I have the No-Maj contraception birth control, an IUD. No, it wouldn’t matter.

My eyes widen and I gasp as she mutters a spell and twists her wand over my left side, severing a fallopian tube. She leans across me to the right side, blocking Dolohov’s view. Her wand taps my hip and she pinches me hard. I gasp again, confused.

The Healer turns to him. “Finished.”

He nods and Goyle steps forward, pulling the lump of my poorly scourgified clothes from his robes. Thank god.

The witches turn their back to me to do paperwork as I dress, thinking. I’m relieved to know there were people still silently fighting. This act of defiance gave me hope. Maybe we weren’t lost.

[blackthorn-legion-irl]

//private message thread ic

things to crossreference with pre-hospital - i'll do this once i'm home if you haven't:

they seemed very adamant about sprite being failed by society which is. surprising.

they are also just casually chatting with sprite. about growlithe and arcanine. that's. interesting. and forgiving it for making them cry? yeah, you're right, that Is weird.

particularly since skie thinks its name made them cry since he's the known robber since revealing itself.....

i thought they already would have known the suspects got away and that's why they'd be so stressed to cause medical problems? might have just fake-forgotten though, illness memories...

skie thinks indigo doesn't like soda, but indigo is requesting 7-up or other lemon-lime soda. that's. very specific, but it's Also one of the only sodas that /i/ can have since i can't have caffeine so maybe a similar reason there? but that's...

minor things to crossreference: favourite colour (grey), belief in non-type ghosts (yes), soda preference (lemon-lime), hair-style in previous photos (it's apparently dyed, but if the style is different enough that couldn't be easily done, right?)

theory: this isn't the same person as the fakedigo from before the hospital. maybe they got another zoroark in? or someone good at disguising. i still doubt skie is in on it. i feel like whoever this is is at the very least not particularly happy to be here. i swear are they just shoving an intern in to pretend to be the heir----- i'm leaving them coded messages that hopefully they'll pick up on, just as a basic.

i am also worried that they're trying to get at sprite somehow.... sprite is a lemon-lime soda too and it would explain why they're being so nice to it. i. don't know whether we should let sprite know this or not.

i found the weird tags. running a basic codebreaker on them..... nothing. either it's blocked to me somehow - the infernal spoiler filter that apparently exists. angy this is Important let me bypass it! - or it's just more complicated. i'll set the advanced codebreaker on it. for reference, in reverse-chronological order: ETVHSKRYKTSEETBLTKRQXY MWTKMDMBSSMWTKMDMBSSMWGIWYFRUHCTFRBLTKYIRQFODY CEGPGUFRMQML BYDGTTKELEKLDZ BLCTSDBLCEPLDFDUQRFC

i really need to ask sprite if it ran into anything, if the zoroark got injured during the heist that would explain a lot... i've dropped him a message. i've also said i'm talking to you about the situation in case it wants to talk before i get back - hope that's okay. feel free to share any of my theories. or even invite it to this message thread, i'll deal with him being mad at me for worrying if needed. sprite if you're invited here and see this - i'm sorry

the intrusive thoughts are telling me something else. i'll mention it if you want but i already jinxed things enough--- no, i'll just. an impostor couldn't imitate fibro tiredness so easily, right? most people don't even believe fibro is real. ugh. ignore that........

//private message from @hearthome-habitant

Asked a few questions on a burner account, and... I suspect "Indigo" is being drugged.

Chroma's intern is administrating "cold medicine" xe know nothing about – not even its name. Perhaps I'm just being paranoid....?

//private message thread ic

that's. interesting. why would they need to do that? 'indigo' was doing just fine before and would easily be able to just. not answer questions about the break-in.......

hmm. if my previous theory about 'indigo' getting controlled, though - maybe the control loosened somehow. that would explain why they would need drugging. i might ask sprite if it saw anything weird during the heist, possible some control thing could have been at the house...

not going to yet though. i'm. worried about sprite too, honestly. it feels like he's horribly beating itself up over the heist going badly... i wanna reach out some more but i don't want to overwhelm him, you know? sounds like he thinks indigo is mad at it too....... i noted that it sounds very like my own fibro experiences in that having to rest after exertion like that, but i don't think he responded. so i don't wanna push...

[ultimatetrashyfanfic]

Still loving Komahina and I also love hurt/comfort sickfics so this was pretty inevitable. Nagito is very good for sickfics. Anyway, I wanted to show these two trying to navigate a bad illness and all the frightening and sometimes embarrassing things that come with that. Post-hope arc again. With fluff because I can’t NOT do fluff. I hope you enjoy it - Circle

Also on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34280557

Warning: descriptions of vomiting (I didn’t describe the puke itself or anything, don’t worry, I’m emetophobic myself) and high fevers/vague descriptions of medical procedures.

Hajime noticed at the beach this time - and just like every time, he kicked himself for not noticing before he’d made Nagito leave the cabin. He thought back to when Nagito stumbled as they walked across the island, about how he’d chased every meagre bite of breakfast with a gulp of water like it was difficult to get down. Hajime hadn’t been vigilant enough, and now they were sitting together on the sand and Nagito was leaning far too heavily against his shoulder.

“Nagito?” Hajime said cautiously. When Nagito turned his head, Hajime hastily put a hand to his forehead, managing to catch it before Nagito veered away. “I knew it. You’re burning up.”

Some old routine. Nagito would deflect, then grow self-deprecating; Hajime would shut that down, then begrudgingly carry Nagito back to their cabin. They’d done this dance together over and over, whenever Nagito’s weakened state and illness made something like a common cold seem as serious as smallpox.

It didn’t seem so bad for the next couple of days. Nagito had a fever, but it was a low one, and he ate when Hajime asked and seemed alert and talkative. Hajime felt comfortable leaving him in the care of their friends while he went to Mikan for medicine and advice - though his friends proved to need supervision of their own. He returned to his cabin just as Sonia and Gundham were leaving, reassured when Sonia reported that Nagito wasn’t any worse. At the time, he didn’t notice the splashes of brown paint on Gundham’s bandages or Sonia’s dress.

Hajime stopped short when he stepped over the threshold. There was a gigantic swirly witchy symbol covering almost the whole wall above the bed, the heavy smell of paint in the air. Nagito was peeping over the top of the bedsheets, eyes sparkling.

“What the hell is that?” Hajime couldn’t even sound angry. He was just bloody tired. Why were the Ultimates so dramatic?

“Sonia and Gundham did a ritual for my good health,” Nagito explained. His lip twitched and Hajime knew he was fighting a smile. “I was so honoured to have two Ultimates working to help me that I thought it’d be unspeakably ungrateful to protest.”

“Oh, shut up, Nagito! I can see you just think it’s funny,” Hajime snapped. Nagito snorted and disappeared under the sheets, spluttering.

Hajime sighed and took another look at the giant eyesore on his wall. At least it was painted fairly neatly - and he knew Gundham and Sonia’s hearts were in the right places even if this particular stunt was irritating. He supposed they were trying to help in a weird way. Sonia went along with anything Gundham said, and Hajime didn’t expect Gundham to know you shouldn’t paint giant symbols on other people’s walls without permission. Gundham navigated social interactions like he was going into battle; Hajime doubted he would ask permission for something he clearly saw as a good deed.

“Doesn’t it make your boring plain wall more interesting?” Nagito piped up.

“Don’t push your luck, Nagito.”

“Right. Who knows what pushing my luck will do.”

Later on, Hajime would worry that he’d jinxed them somehow, that whatever strange force was behind Nagito’s Ultimate Luck was malevolent and wanted to teach them a lesson for mocking it - because that night brought disaster. Nagito was usually exceptionally clingy when they were in bed, often to the point where Hajime got so warm he had to pry him off, but now he curled up right on the very edge of the mattress, well away from Hajime. Hajime knew he was awake from his strangely measured breaths and his unusual stillness; Nagito was a restless sleeper. He frequently kicked Hajime in the night and rolled right on top of him and yanked the blankets away. Sometimes Hajime felt like he’d get more sleep on a busy runway as airplanes roared overhead.

Hajime poked Nagito in the back, careful not to tip him right off the bed. “Hey. What’s up?”

He didn’t get a response. Hajime sighed. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know you’re not asleep. You never sleep like that. So what’s going on?”

He wound his arms around Nagito’s waist and tried to pull him closer to get a better look at him, but Nagito winced and slapped his hands away with surprising force. “Don’t,” he gasped, curling up even tighter. “Don’t press…”

“What? Is it your stomach?” This was new. Nagito had been off his food lately, but then he frequently found it difficult to eat. “Do you feel nauseous?”

Silence. Getting information from Nagito was like getting blood from a stone sometimes. Hajime felt Nagito’s forehead in the gloom. His fever had definitely gone up and his skin was clammy. Hajime let his fingers trail down Nagito’s cheeks to his jawline and felt along his neck - the lymph nodes were so swollen they felt like two throbbing ping pong balls.

“Fuck,” Hajime muttered. “I thought we might get through this one without anything too bad.”

He was expecting some strange rambling about how this bad luck would inspire them to hope for good things in the future, but Nagito still didn’t speak. He rolled over and shuffled across the bed, tucking his burning head right under Hajime’s chin. It worried Hajime more than any words could; Nagito didn’t actively seek out comfort unless he was feeling really terrible.

“Hey,” Hajime mumbled, having to spit out a mouthful of Nagito’s unruly curls. “Ugh, your hair keeps getting in my mouth. Look, I know you’re sick and I’m sure it must feel crappy, but you’ll be okay. You’ll probably feel better by tomorrow morning. Right?” Hajime knew he sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as Nagito.

More silence. Hajime could feel Nagito shivering, and wound his arms around him quickly. He usually teased Nagito for being so chilly all the time, needing his jacket whenever the sun dipped behind the clouds and getting goose pimples in the air conditioned cabins, but it didn’t seem remotely funny anymore. Nagito trembled like he was buried up to his neck in snow, but he certainly didn’t feel cold.

“You’re burning up. Fuck, I think I need to get Mikan,” Hajime said. He felt a hand shoot out and grab hold of his t-shirt, clinging for dear life. Hajime knew he could easily pry Nagito off, but he couldn’t bring himself to try at a time like this. “Okay, don’t freak out. I’ll stay. But I’m going if you get any worse.”

It was after midnight when the vomiting started. They’d already been in the bathroom since eleven, huddled together on the floor by the toilet, sharing a blanket. Nagito kept sleepily begging Hajime to go back to bed and leave him there, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t be here with me if our roles were reversed.”

“That’s different. You’re you and I’m me,” Nagito whispered. He let his burning head rest against Hajime’s shoulder despite his pleading.

“It shouldn’t be different though. It’s not different, not to me. You’re sick and I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway if I knew you were in here on your own feeling miserable.”

“You have such a kind heart, Hajime. To think you could care so much about someone as worthless as I am.”

“Nagito. If you don’t stop that I’m going to shove your head down the toilet and flush, no matter how sick you are,” Hajime threatened. “You’re not worthless. For the millionth time.”

“You’d think you’d have got tired of saying that by now,” Nagito said.

“I have. Very fucking tired. But I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. Now shut up and try to get some rest. And let me know when you need to throw up. You’re in a position right now that would have you puking down my front and it’s making me nervous.”

Thankfully, Nagito was exceptionally neat about it when he did have to lean over the toilet to vomit. Hajime hooked his white curls back behind his ears and tried not to groan too much. It was unpleasant, obviously, but it was clear Nagito was the one suffering the most right now. He didn’t need Hajime moaning in his ear for him to hurry up - and as the minutes ticked by Hajime found his embarrassment and mild disgust morphing into anxiety. He knew Nagito hadn’t had much to eat these past few days, but the retching and heaving went on well after Nagito had nothing left to bring up. Nagito’s cheeks grew flushed and blotchy, and it wasn’t long before Hajime was the only thing holding him up over the loo, his arms wound around Nagito’s chest. He could feel Nagito’s heart pounding hard against his arms, on and on.

“Come on,” Hajime said eventually. “I’ll get you a bucket or something. You’re not really throwing anything up now anyway. You need to lie down.”

Nagito didn’t respond. He was breathing heavily, his face dripping with sweat. He was gripping the porcelain so hard his knuckles bleached white. Hajime had to pry off his fingers one by one.

“Come on,” he repeated. “I’ll get you something to wipe your face. I know you feel miserable but you can’t stay tethered to the toilet until you die.” He scooped Nagito up into his arms, cradling him as carefully as a newborn. Nagito felt frighteningly hot and damp.

Shaky arms wound around Hajime’s neck and a weak, hoarse voice whispered into his ear. “Death would be welcome at this point…”

“Stop it,” Hajime said firmly. “Don’t go all melodramatic on me. You sound like Gundham.” He carried Nagito to the bed and ran a cloth under the tap. “Here. Shall I do it for you? Then you don’t have to sit up.”

Nagito didn’t react, staring up at the ceiling. He seemed to decide to ignore Hajime at will, and it annoyed him almost as much as Nagito’s self-deprecation.

“Fine, don’t talk to me,” Hajime snapped. “I’ll scrub your face like a baby if you’re going to act like one.” Despite his tone, Hajime ran the damp cloth over Nagito’s skin with unbelievable care and tenderness, going carefully around his eyes and mouth.

Nagito’s eyes flickered over to him. “Well, Nurse Hinata, what’s your diagnosis? Is it curtains for me now? Is this world finally finished with me?”

“No! God, I’ve never known anybody so dramatic,” Hajime said angrily. “It’s just a little stomach flu or something like that. Don’t be so stupid.” He was almost shouting now. It was far easier to get angry than to admit to Nagito that he was scared too, that the knot of panic in his chest was getting tighter by the minute.

Nagito stared at him pityingly. Hajime wanted to slap him and clasp him close all at once.

“I’m going to get Mikan.” He turned to leave, but felt a clammy hand grasp his wrist and hold it with a surprisingly firm, desperate strength. Hajime turned back. “Nagito..?”

Nagito had his head bent, his lips pressed together. He didn’t speak, but he clung to Hajime’s wrist so tightly his fingernails dug in.

“But we need help. I’ll be as fast as I can, I promise. I’ll run all the way,” Hajime tried.

The hand squeezed even tighter.

“Oh fucking hell,” Hajime groaned. “Okay, I won’t leave. But we still need help, so you need to let me go for a second, okay? I promise I won’t go past the door to the cabin.”

A pause. Then Nagito slowly unclamped his fingers and let Hajime break free. He immediately flew to the cabin door, opened it wide and took a deep, long breath inwards. “HEY!” he bellowed, as loud as he could possibly manage. His voice boomed through the still night air. “WE NEED HELP! COME OUT AND HELP US!”

He yelled the same simple lines over and over until a door opened. He’d rather hoped for somebody sensible like Twogami or Mahiru; he ended up with Kazuichi. It made sense really - the sensible people would be asleep at three in the morning, and Kazuichi’s cabin was directly across from Hajime’s.

“What the hell are you screaming about, Hajime?” Kazuichi whined, scrubbing his eyes. His hands were covered with oil and he smeared it across his cheeks. It looked like he was wearing bad war paint. He’d doubtless been hunched over some project he was working on. It usually annoyed Hajime to see his friend neglecting vital things like sleep for his machines, but he was grateful for Souda’s insomnia tonight.

“Kazuichi, come over here, I need your help. Nagito is sick. Like, really sick. I need you to go get Mikan. Please.”

“What? Why can’t you do it?” Kazuichi said indignantly.

“I just… I don’t want to leave him alone, okay?!” Hajime muttered, flustered.

“Awww, Hajime! You loooove him,” Kazuichi cried, spluttering with laughter.

Hajime heard Nagito snort behind him too. He must’ve heard. He felt his cheeks flush crimson. “Kazuichi, will you just fucking go before I throttle you!”

“Stop yelling at me, I’m doing you a favour!” Kazuichi cried, looking wounded - but he ran off in the direction of Mikan’s cabin obediently.

None of them slept much that night. Mikan worked diligently, trying antibiotics and saline drips and ice packs, but she couldn’t get Nagito’s fever down, getting more and more tearfully apologetic as if she was personally blighting him herself. “His fever is dangerously high. We have to find a way of lowering it,” she muttered over and over like a mantra, shaking her head.

Anti-nausea drugs stopped the persistent stomach pains, but Nagito was clearly far from comfortable. He stopped smirking and teasing Hajime, stopped laughing at Kazuichi’s silly jokes. He stopped putting himself down and babbling about how the four Ultimates were so full of kindness and hope to be fussing so much over someone like him. He just stared vacantly up at the ceiling, his eyes foggy and over-bright, his cheeks flushed.

They each toiled in their own way until dawn, when they finally collapsed with exhaustion, squashing up together on Hajime’s bed. They lay there undisturbed until Twogami came looking for them, concerned by the absences at breakfast. He shook Hajime awake, wanting to know why there were four people curled around each other like puppies on his bed, but all Hajime could focus on was Nagito. His head was resting on Hajime’s chest, burning hot through his shirt. The fever was still there. He’d woken up but the nightmare was still going.

It was a mercy that Twogami found them. He sent Mikan off to sleep in her own cabin and made Hajime give a detailed account of the previous night (he let Kazuichi remain asleep at the foot of the bed. Twogami knew he wouldn’t sleep again if he was disturbed, and he wasn’t in the way).

“If he gets any worse, we might have to contact Future Foundation,” Twogami said thoughtfully. “They’ll have more complex medical equipment.”

“We don’t need them,” Hajime snapped. “Especially Makoto.”

He’d thought Kazuichi was still sleeping, but he snorted. “Because Nagito gushes over Makoto. That’s why you don’t like him,” he mumbled sleepily, sitting up.

“Shut up, you hypocrite. Why didn’t you like Gundham before?” Hajime argued.

“I don’t know why you get so fussed, Makoto looks a lot like you.”

“He doesn’t!”

Twogami sighed and crossed his arms like an exasperated parent. “If you two want to bicker you can go do it outside. Nagito needs peace and quiet.” He sounded like a parent too, and the other men quietened immediately and focused on Nagito again.

Nagito didn’t seem to wake up properly. He could open his eyes (though this looked like it was taking an extreme amount of effort) but he didn’t speak or even react very much when somebody spoke to him. He barely blinked when Hajime tried to make him sip water or Kazuichi tapped on his cheek and called his name. Mikan was forced to give him fluids intravenously. When the afternoon brought no improvements, Hajime let Twogami contact Future Foundation for better medicine.

Hajime spent another anxious, sleepless night desperately holding Nagito - though he didn’t feel like Nagito. He hadn’t spoken a single word all day, and though Hajime was trying to be optimistic, he could feel panic pooling in his stomach like oil. Would the medicine get here in time? Would it even work? Nagito was so sick, as sick as he’d been with that awful Despair Disease. Hajime remembered how he’d left Nagito alone then; he wouldn’t make that mistake this time. He’d be there for Nagito - if he was even aware of Hajime at this point. It seemed less and less likely. He wasn’t even opening his eyes now. All Hajime could do was hold him, hold onto this lifeless, unresponsive husk that sucked in shallow breaths far too fast. He wondered if the real Nagito was somewhere deep inside, floating aimlessly, or if the fever had fried his brain completely and obliterated the strange, smart, fascinating person Hajime knew. No, surely he was being stupid. It couldn’t be that bad, right? Unless Mikan and Twogami were just being tactful. Maybe they both expected Nagito to perish and just didn’t want to snuff out Hajime’s hope. He clutched the burning body tighter.

“Don’t you dare die,” he whispered fiercely, cupping Nagito’s cheeks. “I mean it. Not after everything that’s happened. You can’t just give up now. You woke up once before. It took you the longest of everyone, but you still came back. Do it again, because I’ll lose my fucking mind if anyone else dies. You’d better fight this.” His eyes burned. Several tiny droplets of water fell onto Nagito’s face.

Hajime waited. He silently begged Nagito to open his eyes, whisper something coherent, clutch his hand… but nothing happened. Hajime held him all night, terrified of drifting off to sleep in case he woke up and found Nagito stone cold and white and still. He’d found Nagito dead once. Bloody and bound, his eyes bulging with pain… No. It wasn’t real, even if it felt real. It wasn’t real it wasn’t real it wasn’t real.

Morning brought the stronger medicine from the Future Foundation. Twogami explained what it was and how it worked, but Hajime was so fuzzy-headed with lack of sleep and stress that he didn’t take any of it in.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Twogami said doubtfully. “Mikan set up the IV so you don’t have to worry about anything. You could leave one of us here, go get some rest.” He tried for ten minutes to convince him, but Hajime shook his head.

“I can’t leave him. Not until he’s better.”

“You’re so stubborn. At this rate we’ll need to start nursing you along with him,” Twogami muttered, but he left them alone. Mikan left as soon as she could too, apologising even more than usual. Maybe Hajime had been glaring at her? It wasn’t her fault, he just had a splitting headache, but he obviously couldn’t leave to go apologise. Not now.

Time had started to blur. Minutes crawled by like days, but then suddenly an entire hour could disappear in a second. Hajime stayed sitting by Nagito’s side, periodically holding his hand, begging him to squeeze his back. Nagito lay still, but his breathing had evened out considerably since he’d been given this new medication. Hajime tried tickling at his cheeks and smoothing back his hair and Nagito twitched and sighed - tiny reactions, but they were reactions. Hajime hardly dared let himself hope and he definitely didn’t dare let himself sleep, though he was so tired now he had shooting pains behind his eyes.

Later - much later - Kazuichi came back, bringing Hajime toast and coffee. He looked startled by the state he was in. “Good God, Hajime, you look worse than Nagito!”

“Thanks a bunch,” Hajime grumbled. He didn’t touch the toast but took a grateful gulp of coffee.

“Seriously, bro, when did you last sleep? Or eat? Or… shower?” Kazuichi asked, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed.

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Have you seriously not slept since he got sick?”

“How can I?” Hajime snapped. “Will you please stop bleating obvious questions at me, Kazuichi. Yes, I’m fucking tired and hungry and I look like shit right now, I know. But I’m trying to make sure my boyfriend doesn’t die right in front of me, so forgive me if I can’t give much of a fuck about anything else! I don’t have the energy to deal with you right now. So can you please just shut up or fuck off!” He was practically screaming by the end of it. Part of him really wanted Kazuichi to yell back, start a real fight; he was so tired and so frustrated and it was so easy to take it out on Kazuichi.

But Souda didn’t argue. He didn’t speak, but his eyes filled up and he ducked his head to hide his quivering lips. Hajime felt a sudden wave of shame wash over his head. He didn’t want to make Kazuichi cry (even if that was pretty easy to do).

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, putting his head in his hands. “Yes, I’m tired. Tired and miserable. It’s not your fault.”

“I know you’re tired. I thought I could stay here. Keep watch over Nagito for a bit. You can sleep next to him,” Kazuichi said, his voice cracking.

Hajime felt worse than ever. “Shit. I’m sorry.” He grabbed Kazuichi and pulled him into a clumsy hug. “You’re a good friend. Better than me.”

“I’m your best friend, right?” Kazuichi asked hopefully. “You’re not just being nice? Am I actually just annoying?”

“You are annoying. But you’re still my best friend.”

Kazuichi grinned. “Okay. And you’ll get some rest now? I think you really need it, Hajime. You’re so grouchy when you’re tired.”

Hajime rather wanted to grumble about that comment, but he didn’t want to prove Souda’s point. “You’ll wake me up if anything changes with Nagito? Even something tiny. Even if you’re not sure it’s a change, can you wake me up to check?”

“Yes. God, you’re worse than Peko with Fuyuhiko. Do you really love him, Hajime?” Kazuichi asked.

“Look, we’re not at a pre-teen sleepover, Kazuichi. I don’t want to sit here with you and gossip about boys,” Hajime said, shuffling close to Nagito. He wasn’t sure - maybe it was wishful thinking - but he thought Nagito’s body was slightly cooler.

“See what I mean. Grumpy,” Kazuichi mumbled.

Hajime didn’t bother to reply this time. He didn’t think he’d manage to get a wink of sleep with all the stress and worry, but he was out like a light almost immediately, so exhausted he didn’t even dream. He wasn’t sure how long Kazuichi kept vigil at their bedside (several hours, he guessed. Kazuichi was a good friend) but he was gone when Hajime opened his eyes. The silvery dawn light was filtering in through the windows, bathing their furniture in a soft glow. Something was burrowing into Hajime’s chest like a small animal.

“Nagito..?” Hajime mumbled, still half-asleep.

“Of course. Who else do you invite into bed, Hajime?”

“Nobody, dumbass.” Then it clicked and Hajime was instantly awake, peering through the dim light. Nagito truly was awake, looking very pale and sleepy and weak, but his eyes were open. Hajime clutched onto him at once, holding him as tight as he dared. Nagito felt as fragile as glass, like he might shatter altogether if Hajime squeezed too hard.

“Careful, you’ll yank my IV out,” Nagito mumbled, but he buried his face into Hajime’s shoulder too. His skin was still clammy, still warm, but not that terrifying burning anymore. Nagito felt clammy all over. “You should wait till I’ve showered before we do all the tearful reunions.”

“Shut up. I need a shower too,” Hajime said hoarsely. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Fuck, it’s good to see you awake and talking.”

“How long was I out?”

“Several days. How much do you remember?”

Nagito paused. “I remember the night Mikan and Kazuichi came. It gets a bit muddled after that. Someone tried to make me drink quite a few times. Nothing much then. Except…”

“Except?”

“Perhaps I was dreaming. I couldn’t imagine somebody caring so much for someone like-”

“Oh Christ, I haven’t missed that,” Hajime groaned. “Just tell me what you remember!”

“You. Your voice, telling me not to die. Though it sounded more like you were threatening me not to die. And something dripping on me.”

Hajime felt his face flushing. It seemed like years ago that he’d hovered over Nagito and frantically begged him to keep fighting. “Trust you to remember something embarrassing like that.”

“Were you truly crying?”

“What else would I be doing? Drooling on you?”

“You hardly ever cry.”

“I’ve never seen you that sick before,” Hajime admitted. He held Nagito in the hug so he couldn’t see his face. It was somehow easier to blurt it all out in the gloomy morning half-light. “It was… fucking horrible. I didn’t dare sleep. I haven’t felt scared like that since the simulation. I thought I was going to lose you… just like Chiaki.”

There was a long, pregnant pause. Hajime could feel Nagito’s breath tickling against his neck.

“We smell awful,” Nagito finally whispered.

Hajime started spluttering with laughter. “For God’s sake! Can’t you ever be serious?”

“You know I don’t have any idea how to comfort people. But… you shouldn’t worry so much when I get sick. Not just because I’m me, but because my luck usually comes through for me eventually. It hasn’t let me die yet. Well, except in the simulation.”

“Shut up. Don’t talk about that,” Hajime said quickly. “Izuru has luck too. So that should mean I’m stuck with you forever.”

He rather expected Nagito to shoot back with some sort of self-deprecating response like “poor you” but Nagito was silent for a while. He was practically in Hajime’s lap now, his skinny legs wound around Hajime’s waist.

“Thank you.”

“Hm?” The words were so quiet Hajime barely heard.

“Thank you for taking care of me. Nobody has ever done that before,” Nagito said, his voice as light and delicate as the dawn. He still found it so hard to accept things like this. He’d spent so many years building walls around him and then Hajime had come along and blasted through them in an instant. Nagito felt raw and vulnerable and exposed - but there was a warm feeling in his stomach too, new and unfamiliar.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” Hajime promised.

“You’ll probably have to. My immune system is awful.”

“Then I will. Needing things isn’t bad, Nagito. You’re not meant to do things all alone.”

“The thing we need right now is a wash.”

“Yes. We’d better get that over with first,” Hajime agreed - but despite their words they both remained in their embrace, clinging to each other with desperate strength, long after that sun had risen properly.

[aestheticsuwu]

☕ ▪I'll Be Fallin' Without Caution▪ ☕

Robby Keene x Doug Rickenberger

Coffee shop au

Inspo from the song People Watching by Conan Gray

....

*" Sure serving coffee and working as a barista while he goes to college isn't that bad . Except all the warm and sweet atmosphere lures in lovebirds in , resulting in reminding him that he's pathetically single .

But then one day Doug waltz into his life by running into and spilling coffee over the both of them and Robby ends up at work with Dougs hoodie , that they both use as an excuse to interact and slowly fall in love . "*

....... ........ ......

Nowadays Robby tried not to complain about his life nowadays , he was in college now . He was majoring in buisness because he liked working for Mr. Lawrusso in the summer and he actually would like his future involving selling cars .

His mom is doing well after finally getting help and shes always there for him . Including his dad , at first it was hard but somehow down the line he learned that this time Johnny wasn't giving up on him .

It was nice knowing he had more than one person he can  call or recieve a message from other than friends .

Everything was good , Dad and Mr. Larusso were planning their wedding and he couldn't wait to have Daniel as a dad .

Except something felt missing everytime he noticed couples in the campus and when he goes back home to visit or in the Cafe .

He hasnt dated in awhile ever since he entered college .

He missed the feeling of holding hands , sharing soft kisses and the constant warm feeling of being in love .

Like right now that he's in bed by himself wishing he had someone to cuddle and tell him that he going to be late for his class .

Wait a second ......

Shit !

He was Late .

Jumping out of bed and straight to the bathroom as fast as he can . Changing quickly as he could after washing his face and brushing his teeth .

Rushing out the door almost forgetting his phone and backpack .

He really hoped this wasn't a sign that today was going to be bad .

.....

Damn , he shouldn't have jinxed it . He had two exams that he totally forgot to study and he forgot to do his work for his last class .

Resulting to copying his classmates without them noticing .

 Did he felt bad ? Yes . But did he want to get bad grades making his parents and Daniels  effort go to waste just for him to slack off ? No thank you .

He went back to his dorm to shower and  change quickly for his shift at the cafe.

Except when he looks at the time he's once again late today , he quickly rushes through campus .

His day couldn't get worse .

Except life pulled a uno reverse card on him .

He felt hot liquid scorching him lightly , being saved by his sweater but sadly his uniform didnt .

" Oh Fuck . "

" Shit . "

 

Looking to see the owner of the voice and coffee , when he said looking he meant looking up beacause the guy was too tall .

If Robby was short, being near this giraffee made him seem like a dwarf .

" Im sorry , i wasnt paying attention "

" Its fine , I should've slowed down . "

 

Drying his phone with his dried pants , he looks at the time he was already 15 minutes late .

Looking down his uniform , he knew he didnt have time to go back and change .

Robby is not going to admit it but he was pouting at the moment trying to think how to resolve the problem .

He sees a movement ,  and soon he has a hoodie in front of him . Looking at the tall guy looking apologetic .

" Here . your uniform is dirty and you look like a cute wet puppy right now . "

..... ..... .....

Doug thought that today was like any other day . From waking up , going to his classes , and getting a lecture from his father telling him what he usually says 'Better not end up being a failure' .

Like a good little soldier he was he just listened and answered respectfully .

He tried walking to get his mind off of his earlier conversation .

He decides on getting a coffee , when hes walking out the cafe he feels his phone vibrate .

5 blocks away the store he opens his messages .

A message from his father reminding him about his interview in engineering position as an intern .

To busy trying to find the right response that he doesnt notice a figure thats about to crash into him until it was to late .

He was ready to curse out to this person , but then he saw him and all that came to mind was one word .

Beautiful .

Cute little freckles across his nose and he was short . Reminding him of a cute puppy . He swears that his heart stopped once the boy had to look up to see him ,and had these big dewy green eyes .

He apologized immediately,  but it wasn't enough . it seemed like he was late for something and by his now drenched uniform .

The pout of the boy just made his heart melt .

He decided to offer his hoodie and handing it to the cute guy .

" Here . Your uniform is dirty and you look like a cute wet puppy right now .

 Its the least i could do  . "

Turning around to give him privacy to change . Seeing him wear his hoodie fucked with his mind .

" Thanks , i uh ... i have to go or im sure they will fire me if im more late   . "

The cute boy gives him the cutest smile he ever seen and starts to jog once again .

" Hey , I didnt catch your name unless you want me to remember you as puppy ! . "

He didnt know if his mind was playing with him but the latter had a cute blush .

" Robby . "

...... ....

Robby couldnt stop thinking about the tall boy , he got teased by his coworkers . Guessing they knew the hoodie didn't belong to him as it was nowhere his size and reached to his knees and gave him sweater paws .

The next few days he had worn the hoodie , he kept telling himself it was because it was warm and it was the closest when he had to go .

Today he had to cover his friends shift halfway as in a favor .

He wondered if the tall guy ever thought of him .

He was in a call with Sam , she was talking about how long her and Miguel been together . Guess love grows stronger even if your miles apart .

Saying their goodbyes and reminding about the party back home for her Dads birthday .

Robby reconfirms her and Demetri through groupchat that he will be there .

Putting his apron on , he told his friend Tory she could leave while he tied the knot of his apron .

" Thanks again by the way , Robby . "

" Its okay , Go with Moon now . Dont make your fiance wait on you . "

" Were not engaged but one day we will . Oh and theres an order ready , could you give it to the customer . See you later keene .

" Yeah , yeah . Have fun . "

From all his friend he knows hes the only one single in the group , even Demetri and Eli had gotten their shit together .

And here he was , theres no hope at all. He would die alone forever , such a waste for all this beauty to go to waste .

Looking at the name on the cup , he calls the customer .

" Puppy ? "

Well maybe there was a little bit of hope .

[miraculouscontent]

Didn’t Need Burrow (May 3rd-May 22nd)

Anonymous said:

Don’t Need Burrow to know that Ladybug’s distrust of Volpina will be played off as though she was simply jealous of her because she thought she was going to steal Adrien/Chat, even though she didn’t like Chat! Oh, but she did, she didn’t know it yet. That’s why she kissed him in Dark Cupid!

Not like she didn’t have a bunch of other reasons to distrust Volpina.

(the show also does this a lot where Marinette has an extra reason on top of “““jealousy,”““ like in “Oni-Chan” where the thing she was concerned about actually ended up happening, but the fandom boils everything down to jealousy anyway)

Anonymous said:

Didn’t Need Burrow: Su Han will take the Miraculouses from all the girls because he thinks girls don’t have the “physical and mental fortitude” to be heroes, giving them tto guys instead. The girls will find out about each others’ identities and join in the battle to get their Miraculouses back without any powers, led by Marinette, despite the fact that the genre of Miraculous Ladybug is supposedly Magical GIRL and thus the girls being powerful should be a given

(there was another part to this but I didn’t get it all so I clipped this ask a bit so it could work alone)

tbh the true ending should just be Marinette and the girls kicking each misogynist to the curb without any powers, and Su-Han goes last.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Luka and Zoe, from their styles and hints like the ice cream Luka holds in Truth and the flower on her shirt.... I'm sure at this point the writers will either send him on a tour with Jagged, or make him Zoe's bf offscreen somehow... Also more torture for Mari mentally :)

Of course. :)

Gotta make sure Marinette doesn’t have any choice but Adrien. :)

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Zoe will be Adrien's new love interest because she's "very sweet". Mari will be okay with it because she feels the Guardian must be alone. (And she's still punishing herself for hurting Luka.) The New-Bee and Chat also bond, making her feel even more alone. (But now Lila can't claim she's jealous and her hold over the class is lessened as Zoe becomes more popular.)

I’m super not here for Marinette punishing herself (and the show possibly presenting it as her “growing up” and “doing the right thing”) and for Ladybug getting jealous over the playboy cat.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Prince Ali/Rose turns out to be endgame, while Rose/Juleka gets Lukanette'd -- their relationship happened mostly off-screen and we only see them pulling apart. Juleka has to let Rose go so she can live out 'every girl's dream', possibly even being put on a bus/written out of the series.

In which the Couffaines aren’t allowed nice things because they’re poor-coded.

Anonymous said:

I can’t believe the Pig’s weapon is ACTUALLY a tambourine. I’ve had that down as my guess for the pig miraculous for ages but I never thought I’d actually be right. On that note - Didn’t Need Burrow: the Ox’s weapon will definitely be a hammer, and the Goat’s might be a shepherd’s crook or grappling hook, and the Rooster’s could be a horn.

Congrats on being right!

We’ll definitely see on the whole weapons things.

Anonymous said:

Don't Need a Burrow: That Rose's mysterious sickness from "Guiltrip" episode will be ignored in other episodes.

Honestly, it was ignored in “Guiltrip” too. Rose’s illness seemed to be related to headaches and then they literally have her headbanging in her transformation.

Anonymous said:

Don't Need a Burrow: After "Guiltrip", the dynamics of Juleka and Rose's relationship will revert to the "romantic standing next to each other somewhere in the background".

Just look at them doing [friendly task]... romantically!!

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Tikki's comments about not really understanding love are later treated as her being in denial about her being in love with Plagg. Because the two of them are 'soulmates' *just like Adrien and Marinette*, and there's no such thing as a PLATONIC bond. Plus, it's denying another feminine-identifying character the right to define and declare her own feelings -- she's not ALLOWED to not love him that way! If she says otherwise, she's either in denial or mistaken! Or both!

[flashbacks to “Animan” where Alya denies feelings for Nino as being “like a brother to her” and then gets together with him at the end of the episode]

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: In the upcoming Mr. Pigeon episode, Chat Noir's behaviour toward Mr. Ramier in Lies will not be brought up at all.

Yeah, this is why I knew writing “Lying on the Job” was the right choice. :P The show wasn’t going to do it.

(part of me hopes that this acts as a jinx but I doubt it)

soap-lady said:

Didn't Need Burrow: It will be revealed Adrien always knew about Mari's crush. He tells Plagg it's because not only would rejecting a friend be hard, her akuma would be even scarier than her dad. He later admits at the end of the episode to Plagg that having an "awesome person like Marinette" crushing on him makes him feel good about himself. The show will frame this as charming rather than egotistical.

wow i hate it

throw the whole man away, Marinette

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: The "reverse love square" will happen as a result of Adrien being drunk on a love potion/under the control of a spell which makes him fall for Marinette. This will result in Marinette being uncomfortable with Adrien's relentless pursuit of her...AGAIN...which is, of course, played for laughs...AGAIN. Her friends will probably shame her, saying, "why are you so upset? You used to like Adrien and now he's returning that affection! What is WRONG with you, Marinette?". Meanwhile, during battle sequences Chat Noir will be less playful and intrusive of Ladybug's personal space because he's in love with Marinette now and not her, which is good(minus the"in love with Marinette" part, obvs), except that it will cause Ladybug to suddenly fall in love with the new Chat Noir who is being respectful(and "just like Adrien used to act"), and she'll act like a giddy schoolgirl over him, which will be used to humiliate her for comedy as Chat treats her like a freak now. And no, the show will NOT "call him out" for suddenly being averse to the affections of the "girl of his dreams" but will treat him as justified, because guys who pursue girls are gentlemanly and entitled to love back, while girls who pursue guys are pushy and obnoxious. There will even be a lesson on how you shouldn't have to put up with unwanted advances. Chat will be the one to learn it. There will also be a lesson on how you can't force someone to love somebody else. Adrien will be the one to learn it.

Wow, how’d you get the synopsis to Season 5? Impressive! (⊙o⊙)

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Chat will complain about Ladybug not trusting him, so she tries trusting him with further responsibilities which he then shirks, blows off and whines about. Naturally, Marinette is Wrong for DARING to think that her 'partner' should share more of the burden -- no, she HAS to carry everything herself and enable him to keep treating their duty as a game! It's not FAIR for her to expect anything more from him--!

oh my god

he would *gestures loudly to “Lies”*

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Chat Noir will *deliberately* mess up a vital task that Ladybug assigned/entrusted him with, either to punish her for some petty/imagined slight (which is treated as Incredibly Serious and Deserving his retaliation) or because he simply doesn't want to have to deal with the extra responsibility. Much like somebody who 'never learns' the right way to load a dishwasher/do laundry/other chores so that somebody more responsible is forced to pick up their slack.

Sounds about right.

“Bonus” if Chat Noir is presented as in the right because Ladybug’s task was “too difficult”/”she didn’t instruct him right”/”you can’t expect him to be perfect on his first try,” or Chat Noir’s shirking is treated as “payback” for something she did that he maybe doesn’t even know about.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Marinette gives up on becoming a fashion designer because her duties as Ladybug/Guardian take priority. Tikki protests not for Mari's sake, but because she enjoys her creative drive/justifies it as a form of honing Marinette's creativity. Thus the lesson is not that Marinette was Wrong because she deserves to have things that make her happy/goals outside of her duties, but because she can fold them into her Greater Purpose.

Miraculous: Tales of Marinette Not Being Allowed to Be Happy

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Chat Noir will be (temporarily) killed during one of his 'Pity/Praise Me!' stints, because he decides that he can't function without Ladybug kissing his ass and she's too busy fighting the akuma to coddle him. Naturally, this is presented as Marinette's F-Up of the Week that she must fix at all costs and apologize for, insisting once more that she 'can't do this without him' despite being constantly forced to do this without him.

It’s Ladybug’s fault that Chat keeps sacrificing himself, obviously! She’s just not telling him not to in the rIgHt wAy, and she should be

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Ladybug will finally learn the truth about how Theo was akumatized, but Chat Noir will insist that he didn't lie and that she really WAS to blame for it. And anyway, that was 'so long ago' that she's not allowed to be mad over it anymore. (Bonus: this or other episodes will have callbacks showing that Adrien is still salty over things like being 'stood up', with HIS frustration presented as perfectly valid, as there's no expiration date on HER screw-ups.)

[flashbacks to “Stormy Weather 2″ where Plagg retcons Ladybug’s avoidance of Chat’s date as her standing him up]

+ Yeah, I don’t see Adrien not having expiration dates on his mistakes, and his are always for the better (i.e: stealing the book in “Volpina,” which was wrong obviously, and then Marinette covered for him immediately to get him back into school).

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Chloe is given a 'redemption arc' after all... in the vein of her falling for Kim or some other male character and being convinced to change her ways for/by them. On top of being grossly sexist, this lets them slam Marinette even more, painting her as a failure who couldn't help Chloe despite that never being her responsibility in the first place.

“Bonus” if it’s Luka who does it.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Rather than confirming Juleka/Rose, CHLOE is officially revealed to be a closeted lesbian, retconning all of her bullying into the tried-and-trite 'They're only tormenting you because they LIIIIIKE you'. Bonus points if this is used to reinforce the notion that Chloe is irredeemable because 'Evil Jilted Lesbian can't be saved by Hetero LI'/she lied about crushing on Adrien/other toxic and heteronormative bullshit. AND her evilness is Mari's fault for not loving her back!

It’s always Marinette’s fault for not loving people back.

Also, this just reminds me of how much I hate the “lesbian bully” trope fdkjgdfgdfg.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Chat Noir throws another Pity Me Party in the middle of a fight; Ladybug is sniped by the akuma while scolding him to stop fooling around. Naturally, this is presented as HER fault for not immediately accommodating his demands for attention. After saving her, Chat mockingly echoes her words about concentrating and keeping her head in the game.

╰（‵□′）╯

EVERY TIME!!

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Chloe gets another chance at redemption by learning how to mimic Adrien/Lila and feign niceness. Whether or not her 'redemption' sticks depends upon her patience level; if she sticks to it and 'grows' into another Lila/holier-than-thou lecturer like Adrien, it's considered good (and Adrien gets full credit for helping her change 'for the better'), but if she goes back to being *openly* judgy and bitchy, it's another sign that she's 'irredeemable'.

Ugh, when Chloe’s options are either to be a Lila or an Adrien. All I feel is disgust.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: The Love Square is reversed when Adrien learns Ladybug's secret identity and decides to focus on pursuing her as Marinette. Mari is put off by his advances/still convinced that she can't HAVE a romantic relationship with all her other responsibilities, and is further distracted and concerned by Chat Noir growing distant (as he's bitter over his failures and taking it out on LB/holding a grudge after learning she confided in ALYA and not HIM).

i hate it

And of course the method of “now she’s not interested so I’M interested.”

Anonymous said:

Didnt Need to Burrow: Despite being 'twins' with Juleka, Luka will never show up in another episode. Ever. And the only mentions of him are only about the breakup. Even in Juleka-centric episodes, Luka will only be a passing mention. Oh, and Juleka will 100% stick to just mumbling outside of episodes where shes akumatized. Because gIrL poWeR

I’m honestly just--expecting Luka to have like one/two episodes, maybe to get a charm, and then he’s gone forever.

I don’t know if it’s a mercy or an insult, but the constant mentions of the break-up between Marinette and He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named-Outside-Of-Spiting-Him definitely are an insult.

Anonymous said:

Don't Need a Burrow: "Gigantitan <insert high number>" episode

NO

NO

ANYTHING BUT THAT.

Anonymous said:

Didn’t Need Burrow: Ladybug and Cat Noir will be able to power up in some way, but they have to form a special bond (this is implied to be a romantic bond). They use this power up to defeat Hawk Moth. bEcAusE tHe pOWeR oF “LoVe” cOnQUerS aLL! Bonus if the characters imply that Ladybug should’ve accepted his affections sooner (Adrien won’t be mentioned at all, i wonder why:p)

I’m cringing so hard right now. I hate everything about this because you sound so correct.

Anonymous said:

Don't Need a Burrow: Lila will be written out/ret-conned from a show because she was only a Unredeemed!Chloe stand-in for time of Chloe "redemption arc". Every speculation about Lila (next Hawkmoth etc) will be applied to Chloe instead as a "plot twist".

I’m half-expecting that she’ll get akumatized as a season finale bad guy, then just immediately move.

Anonymous said:

Didn't need Burrow: Alya is the one who comes up with the akuma repellent charms and Marinette is going to be jealous that Alya is so much a better guardian. Alya'll also probably be able to wrangle the kwamis better than Marinette.

Honestly I might as well just put this one on the card right now. :P

Anonymous said:

Didnt Need Burrow: When Ladybug tells Chat that she told somebody her secret identity, hes gonna be mad, talking about how she broke his trust and the show will portray it as her fault for breaking under the pressure of being guardian. Meanwhile the fandom is gonna be mad at Ladybug. Ignoring, of course, the entirety of the New York Special.

We could sum up the fandom card as just, “Adrien is right and a sad uwu sunshine child, Marinette is wrong and OP and doesn’t give Chat the respect he deserves.”

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Rose's 'mysterious illness' will naturally flare up during times where Pigella might have been useful, with Ladybug getting blamed for her flare-ups/worsening condition.

BANNED

I HATE IT DX

Anonymous said:

Didn’t Need Burrow: Building off of the “Adrien knows about Marinette’s crush and manipulated her for it”, any time Marinette does something Adrien doesn’t agree with or disagrees with Adrien himself, Adrien will play the cute, naïve, sad boi we all know and “love”, complete with Bambi eyes and gratuitous long eyelashes, forcing Marinette to give in to what he wants. This is treated as cute, quirky, and hilarious, never abusive, selfish, or misogynistic.

I mean, considering Chat Noir and “Chameleon,” yeah.

Anonymous said:

Don't Need a Burrow: a) Episode, where Chat Noir is even worse than in "Lies" b) Situation where Chat Noir during meeting with Ladybug is like always (M'lady, Bugaboo, unwanted psychical contact etc.) then Ladybug reveals that she recognized him as impostor because "real Chat Noir never will be so pushy" (bonus points if false Chat Noir is akumatized Felix) c) Writers somehow manage to put both above options in one episode (obviously with real Chat Noir being even worse than his impostor)

“Copycat” but worse

differenttriumphdragon said:

Didn't Need Burrow to somehow correctly predict Zoe's identity as a joke based solely on some blurry pictures and an offhand comment about "secret siblings". Like, a YEAR or two ago.

I’m guessing this is referring to the writers creating her?

Because yeah, probably.

Anonymous said:

Didn't need the Burrow: We will get Lukagami. One of the reasons will be the clash of the Tsurugi-Motto of "No Second Chances" and Luka's snake power of "Second Chance" resulting in some weird sparks flying.

*puts head into hands and groans loudly* kill meeeee

Anonymous said:

Don't Need a Burrow: The Multimouse!Mylene's model will be based on the Multimouse!Marinette's model (in the same way that the Rena Rogue's model is based on the Volpina's model)

plz no

plz

Anonymous said:

Didn't need burrow: Guilt trip hints at Adrien having actual depression, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but knowing the show, two things will happen: 1. His depression will only exist to make people feel bad for him instead of exploring his mental state and seeing him working through it, and 2. his depression will be magically cured when the LS becomes canon because "true love heals all your mental issues".

All of the above, yes. :|

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Ladybug gets a fresh new look (for the sake of more Real-Life ML Merch), and Chat Noir gets sulky about it. Both because he didn't get an upgraded appearance at the exact same time (despite doing absolutely nothing to earn it), and because he didn't get any input on her new look. So he passive-aggressively complains about the change, saying he preferred 'classic Bugaboo', and Marinette is presented as Wrong for not letting him dictate her power or appearance.

*stares at “Mr. Pigeon 72″* I’m waiting.

Anonymous said:

Didn't need burrow: Imagine after you made that fic where Bustier and D'argencourt get the miraculous they reveal in the show that Bustier's husband/boyfriend/fiance is D'argencourt.

I WILL DIE.

OF LAUGHTER? OF PAIN???

THE ANSWER IS “YES.”

“Bonus” if it’s a DJWifi dynamic where Bustier can get D’Argencourt to do whatever she wants and suddenly becomes aggressive/upset when he doesn’t, which D’Argencourt immediately folds to (because the only “““girl power”““ the show knows is “lol girls are scary when they’re mad”).

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: The Love Square gets 'Reversed' via Alya deciding that Marinette MUST have a crush on Chat as well, since she personally ships LadyNoir. All insistence to the contrary is waved off as denial, and Alya is bound and determined to hook up her BFF with ONE of her crushes, come hell or high water. Thus, Mari gets shoved towards Chat in much the same way she's forced towards Adrien, creating much awkward hilarity at her expense.

Marinette’s entire being: i want to go home

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Alya learns about Marinette getting jilted by Chat Noir during 'Weredad', possibly from Tom and/or Sabine.  She rubs this into Mari's face as proof positive that she really DOES have a thing for Chat, crowing about how she 'does her research' while teasing her about her awful luck with guys. This casual cruelty is 'balanced' by her insistence that she'll help her hook up with ONE of them by forcing her towards both.

Alya, looking at her plans and just shrugging: Hey, now her odds of getting a guy are doubled as far as I’m concerned.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Alya will insist that all of Marinette's romantic woes are her own fault due to her being interested in multiple guys. (Mainly meaning Adrien and Chat Noir; 50-50 on whether she acknowledges Luka's existence as more than just proof of her 'fickle heart'.) She 'supports' her by shoving her into humiliating scenarios with her love interests, blaming all her failures on her 'divided loyalties' and giving her grief for being a 'dirty two-timer' that can't even get off first base.

Yyyyup.

And of course Luka would only be mentioned to shade Marinette.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Tikki will keep nagging Marinette about her inability to solve her romantic woes until Mari snaps that Tikki doesn't know what she's talking about, throwing her own words about how kwami don't understand love back in her face. Naturally, this is Mari's Mistake Of The Week, as Tikki is driven to tears over the rebuke and all the other kwami get pissed off at Marinette for upsetting her, giving her grief until she apologizes.  Tikki barely apologizes in return, if at all.

Ugh, I am just dreading an almost-inevitable “all the kwami are mad at Marinette” episode, since Marinette literally cannot escape from them since the Miracle Box is in her room.

Anonymous said:

(Mylene's personality anon) Don't Need a Burrow: Mylene's "Marinette's trait" will manifest in Multimouse!Mylene's introduction episode.

Mylene: Soon, I will have successfully swiped a personality trait from each of my friends to form one of my own.

Anonymous said:

Don't Need a Burrow: Characters who are popular fandom choices for alternate Miraculous Holders (Bee!Aurore, Fox!Lila, Cat!Felix etc) are akumatized into evil versions of Core Five Miraculous Team (Ladybug, Cat, Fox, Turtle and Bee)

Season 2462 finale.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: There will be more immediate self-contradictions, where Marinette is berated about how something she's doing/done is Wrong, badgered into following somebody else's 'good advice', and then promptly punished for doing so when the results blow up in her face.  These turnarounds will become so fast that they happen within the same episode.  Naturally, this is treated as entirely her fault.

At the rate her treatment is escalating, I would be 0% shocked. Still disappointed, but not shocked.

Anonymous said:

Don't Need a Burrow: It will turn out that the mysterious future Hawkmoth successor that Timetagger talked about is simply the Shadow Moth.

I laughed at this one so hard because it’s so accurate. I don’t know for sure if it’s a reference to the whole “new villain who’s been around since the beginning who just turned out to be Shadow Moth” thing but omg.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: The akuma-resisting pendants are used as an excuse to push Marinette even further past her breaking point, subjecting her to ever worse humiliations and traumas.  If the fact that she basically NEEDS the pendant to survive is ever brought up, it's in a chiding way; obviously, as Ladybug, she needs to be mentally stronger than this and not rely on a 'crutch'.  Nobody else is insulted for needed the pendants' protection.

Imagine the pendants as metaphors for medication and this takes on a whole new meaning.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: In a counterpart to "Chat Blanc", one episode visits a Bad Future where Marinette was akumatized.  Naturally, this is depicted as entirely her fault, with both Maris being raked over the coals.  No matter what the breaking point was, it's treated as though it was petty and pathetic for her to let it effect her so much.  For bonus points, this was at a point after she got the pendant, but she accidentally ditches or pitches it while reacting to whatever broke her back.

Especially with the reveal of two new seasons, I’m very much expecting Marinette to get akumatized at some point.

“Bonus” for a “Miracle Queen” set-up where Adrien needs to wear the ladybug miraculous and is suddenly good at it despite being awful at it before, ala Snake Noir.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Marinette will wind up making most of the anti-akuma amulets.  This is purely so that, when they inevitably fail, she can be blamed for it.

It’ll probably be like--Marinette needed to do something specific to make the pendants and they’re “only as strong as she is.”

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: The Love Square gets reversed when Alya decides she ships LadyNoir more than MariAdri, pushing her newfound agenda over her BFF's protests.  Meanwhile, Adrien reveals that he knew all along about Marinette's crush, starting to pursue her because he just doesn't uNdErStAnD why she's pulling away, feeling entitled to having her chasing after him even if he never intends to actually reciprocate.  Marinette is caught in the middle and blamed for all this drama.

Marinette, counting down the days where she can finally drink alcohol.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: One or some of Adrien/Chat Noir's past lies gets revealed to Marinette/Ladybug... for the sake of a moral about forgiveness and 'letting things go'.  Meanwhile, he continues to grouse and hold grudges against Ladybug for her supposed slights against HIM without being seriously challenged.

I’m seething.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Marinette is shown a 'better world' wherein she never developed a crush on Adrien.  In this 'better world', Ladybug and Chat Noir are romantic partners.  Bonus points if this pushes forward the agenda of reversing the Love Square by getting Marinette to start seriously considering Chat as a potential love interest, treating this as her 'missing the point' of what she was shown... even if the goal was rather unclear beyond guilt-tripping her for having FEELINGS and DESIRES.

The true goal/moral is that Chat’s feelings are valid while Marinette’s are not.

Anonymous said:

Don't Need a Burrow: Hawkmoth will somehow get Black Cat Miraculous and attack as Moth / Cat Fusion (Cat Moth?). After defeating this form, Black Cat Miraculous will be taken from him and without any questions returned to Adrien. Whole thing will happen in one episode.

“Bonus” if Hawk Moth just stumbles upon the ring and doesn’t question it.

Anonymous said:

Didn’t Need Burrow: All Ladybug and Black Cat Holders are soulmates/ have gotten romantically involved. This gives Chat even MORE motivation to invade LB’s boundari-I MEAN to pursue her. Also, LB reacts in horror to this (who wouldn’t?) but its played for laughs.

At this point, I feel like this is the only way for them to push the love square as hard as possible. “Chemistry” has just flown out the window and they need a crutch.

Anonymous said:

Don't Need a Burrow: Reveal that Rose has rich parents because ML writers can't make sad blond(e) character who doesn't have rich parents (and also to increase the "You see! They love each other despite so many differences between them" factor of JuleRose)

Zag, “Stop Giving Rich Kids Sad Backstories” Challenge.

Part of me imagined an episode that just shipbaits JuleRose constantly, with Juleka constantly asking Luka and others advice on “getting closer to Rose,” which just ends up being Juleka asking Rose to be best friends.

[rosaetae]

spellbound to be | one

☇ “I don’t need to drink your blood to have my lips on your neck.”

[this is a part of tale of the purebloods] — prologue / one / two 

➣  pairing: jungkook x reader

➣  genre: vampire!jungkook, fanatasy!au, soulmate!au, angst

➣ word count: 12.3k

➣  rating: pg-13

➣  synopsis: jeon jungkook is the cursed pureblood to have fallen in deep love with someone who was not his Complement. having to have fallen hard, he has to compensate with a life full of heartbreak and pain— one of which a burden weighs heavily on his shoulders. so much so, he hires a witch one day to reverse his inevitable Complement tie.

Bloodshed.

That is what derives from Witch Trial Week at Ember Academy— overly exaggerating, of course. A witch-made week established decades ago, the equivalence to Hell Week in the mundane world, but something your friend, Piper likes to call "Heaven Week" for her own musings.

Ember Academy's witches spend the week hexing, jinxing, cursing each other in the light of every October 31st, Halloween. There's no real motive behind it. Before, whoever was the last witch standing would be given special treatment, but in modern day, it was used as a tactic for the professors to oversee who would be a powerful witch, for some it was a mechanism to either get revenge or to let out one's anger. For you, it was always fun.

To your misfortune, you were at the short end of the stick, being clever and witty enough to be made part of Witch Trial Week, one of the notable witches that some would target, but unlike the rest of Ember Academy, you didn't grow up with the others. They all knew each other the day you stepped into the academy, looking and talking about you as if you were anything but one of them.

And it was true, you weren't fully one of them.

Growing up, you lived in the mundane world, surrounded by people who upheld no special abilities as those in the Upper World. Surely, you were no stranger to the realm of where your mother comes from, you coming home every day from primary school to your father, a human, and your mother, a full-fledged witch who gave up her immortality and her life in the Upper World for the sake of her Complement. You'd spend the day learning simple arithmetic, and after school, you'd come home to your mother teaching you simple, harmless charms.

It was a normal life growing up for you, your upbringing never straying too far from your roots. On some nights, your father put you to bed by telling you bedtime stories, on other nights, your mother would sing a lullaby of broken latin. You were convinced for awhile that it was your mother's soothing voice, but at a certain age when she stopped singing you to sleep, she exposed that it was a siren's song she learned from a friend in her hometown.

As a child, you'd constantly ask about the Upper World, having constant dreams about another worldly realm and a recurring figure holding their hand out for you. And the minute your finger grazes theirs, you awake. Not on your bed made of sea water and a ceiling made of glass, but in your normal New York apartment that had some crooked crevices on the ceiling, on your springy mattress with beige linen sheets. Although, despite your continuous desire to visit your mother's home world, your mother and father were very against world hopping.

However, due to your father's passing when you turned 14, there was no reason as to why your mother should keep you in the mundane world any longer if you didn't want to stay, and brought you to the Upper World of where your dreams of it had come to reality.

Entering Ember Academy, you could not fathom why your mother was so strict of you convincing yourself and everyone else around you that you are a full-fledged witch. And then you learn during one of the history classes that a hybrid witch that shares two worlds forbidden from each other was subjected to execution if entered the soil of the Upper World. You never understood why such a thing as your existence had such dire consequences, but that just made you more aware of your lies to everyone in the Upper World.

Your mother raised you believing that love shouldn't be forbidden, no matter the circumstances, even if that meant two different worlds. The mundane world was like that too. Star-crossed lovers consisting of Romeo and Juliet, Jack and Rose, Joel and Clementine, your own parents— they're all the epitome of what your mother likes to gush on and on about. And in hindsight, you are the product of it.

Due to your inability to grow up with the other witches, you had almost the entire academy against you for the past few years, especially on Witch Trial Week, only for this year to completely change that.

In the mundane world, sports like kickboxing was one of your favorites, and while there was no such thing as kickboxing in the Upper World, your main characteristic was that you like to play rough. A tug a war, a game of chess— this year, you were not holding back.

"Don't be so quick to be disappointed, Piper."

Piper, one of your only purely good friends at Ember Academy, watches you grind up dried lavender buds in a hard stone mortar and pestle, making a few grinds before running an index finger along an old page of your mother's book you took without her permission. She plops down onto her seat in front of you, her dark purple hair bouncing on her shoulders as she taps on her star glitters on her face. "It's Witch Trial Week, ___. That means I have to witch-proof all of my belongings because Rina and her damn fritter friends are going to pull a last year's move."

"Oh, come on. It wasn't that bad," you state, pouring the crushed up lavender into a glass bottle that had frog mucus and torn rose petals sitting inside about one fourth of the way. Piper doesn't question what you were up to, only continuing to voice out her frustrations.

"They cursed my assignments! You know how many extra credit assignments I had to do? 200 points gone because of this bloody witch-made week!"

Smirking, you peer up at her before standing up from your seat to grab a large jar of purple dragon drool on a shelf right behind you, before sitting back down, "calm down, I have plotted the perfect revenge."

"What?" Piper raises an eyebrow, her facial expression looking concerned. "Is that dragon drool?"

Opening up the jar, Piper makes a sour face when the aroma of a putrid, green whiff draws out of the jar, you having to stifle in a cough at the stench that made no warning traveling up your sinuses. Bringing your index finger and thumb to pinch your nose, you grab the small wooden serving spoon attached to the side of it and put two heeping spoonfuls of the dragon drool into your concoction before swiftly shutting the jar and finally being able to breathe again.

Piper lets out an exhale she's been holding in, staring at you with wide eyes, waiting for an answer that you were sort of stalling as you rip up a piece of paper. "I borrowed my mother's infamous dark magic book."

She gulps at the sound of that. "Dark magic?"

"Calm down, it's not that bad," you roll your eyes at her fear of using an area of magic that you were technically not supposed to touch upon— but you couldn't help it. It's dark magic, it's bound to be used somehow. "Just going to tease around with Rina's emotions a bit. We all know she's been trying to hit on Namjoon despite her Complement is Doyeon. I'm making a simple love potion for Namjoon to fall in love with Rina— only for the week though. She'll be a bit heartbroken at the end, but hey, she stained my uniform with troll's blood last year."

Jung Rina, daughter of Ember Academy's high priestess, who also adapts an attitude problem. She likes to taunt other witches from afar because of the power she gains from being the high priestess's daughter, cursing and jinxing others and acting as if it wasn't her— she gets away with it anyways. Unsure why, even when you do mind your own business, it's as if Rina has something against you— you confirmed this when even after Witch Trial Week, she wouldn't stop jinxing you.

Last year, she took your uniform while you were showering after with a game of shuntbumps, only to wear a uniform stained with a bright yellow color leaving a horrendous, pungent smell of troll's blood. It was one of the most talked about trick for the year, everyone bringing up the fact that Ms. Jung Rina was able to get her hands on troll's blood and use you as a target. A laughing stock, the black sheep— you've endured it for long enough.

"You're using dark magic! On the high priestess's daughter! That's—"

"Risky? I could care less." You finish for her, shrugging. You write down the template for the love spell that was written in high level latin, writing it carefully letter by letter. As your quill inks the paper, you look at a sweating Piper momentarily. "Stop worrying! If anything, you're guilty by association."

Piper places her hands over eyes and sighs. "I did not see anything."

"No, you didn't," you muse along with her as you place your quill back into its holder and roll up the paper into a thin tube, tapping it into the bottle that finishes up the spell. You watch as the dragon's drool acidifies the paper, already acidifying the rose petals, ground lavender buds, and frog's mucus prior, all in all creating a lilac hue in the glass bottle. "See? It's done. Now I just need to pour this into his cup of juniper latte when we go to potions."

"Huh," Piper says aloud. "That's sneaky."

Clicking your tongue at her, you slam the dark magic book closed, quickly shoving it into your tote bag while you plug the glass bottle with a cork, gently placing it along with the magic book.

"May the games begin," you whisper audibly only for Piper to let out another sigh of disappointment, but also in anticipation.

Everything was going smoothly. Going to class was like a mission, having to make sure that you don't mindlessly enter a trap, but as you sit down in your seat, in the sight of Professor Young of where safe base was, you just had to get through this class without being suspicious. Despite all else, everything was smooth sailing. Even pouring the potion into Namjoon's juniper latte when he wasn't paying attention was easy. And you noticed that no one has caught you— yet.

In a whirl of lingering moments, the grace period, you were sat in your seat, reading your potions book when you hear an abrupt sound, you and almost everyone in the class looking up to see Namjoon, his told figure looming over the other students with eyes wide as day.

He makes one audible noise, "Rina," before dashing out of the potion room in a coarse and gawky manner, Professor Young calling after him while the rest of the class took it to their own accord to follow him, already presuming that something only Witch Trial Week can influence. Eventually, all classes grew curious of the commotion that people trickle into the crowd as they follow in a hearty distance from Namjoon's graceless gait.

You pull Piper to the side when you see Namjoon approach his and your target, standing from one of the many columns of the area to get a good look given by the angle you were given. Piper couldn't help but to let out an amused giggle when you both see the moment unfold in front of your eyes.

"Namjoon?" Rina speaks, her cheeks going red when she sees Namjoon on his knees, head down. You almost snort at how her eyes go wide when she finds her biggest crush right in front of her, thinking this was out of his own willingness— Namjoon actually being in love with Rina. "Namjoon, what are you doing?"

"I love you!"

The loud announcement rings and echoes in waves down the hallway, you and Piper already having a hard time stifling your laughter at the confession. Rina gulps before she lets out a scoff in disbelief, a smile creeping on her face as if this was a moment she was expecting. Her cockiness makes you want to gag.

"I love you with all my heart, Rina! I want to stay by your side forever!"

Whispers upon whispers dissipate into the air, one of concern, one of cheer for Rina, and one of straight amusement.

Rina raises her eyebrows, clearing her throat. "Namjoon."

"Please, keep me in your life," Namjoon states, almost like a whimper. In that moment, he peers up at Rina with huge bug eyes, as if he was really begging. The anticipation stabs at you like daggers as Rina continues to stare at him in both awe and confusion by the sudden confession. "Master."

The last word leaves his mouth almost like a mutter, and you were for sure, for a mere second, that you misheard him— everyone did, until you're finding Namjoon leap from his stance into Rina's arms, immediately peppering her with kisses on her cheeks, causing her to stumble backwards. The murmurs amongst the crowd grow, following with a few giggles as Rina is trying to push Namjoon away, trying to hold in her giggles.

"Namjoon," Rina says through fits of giggles as she brings her hands up to his chest, trying to keep some distance between them. "Namjoon, not—"

The words are taken out of her mouth when Namjoon, shamelessly and giddily swipes his entire tongue along her cheek, earning a large gasp from the crowd. It leaves not only you in shock, but as well as Rina who entirely freezes in realization of the contact that was just made. Your mouth hangs open, until you roll your lips inward, trying so very hard not to break into a fit of laughter.

"Wrong spell, you hobworm!" Piper whisper yells, slapping a hand on your arm as you let a snigger out, looking at your friend with amusement, wondering why she wasn't finding this just as funny as you did.

"Hobworm?" You gasp at her insult, your amusement unabashedly shining through.

Piper scowls at you, biting her tongue to prevent from encouraging you further into amusement. "You cast the wrong spell!"

As your smile grows, you shake your head. "No, I swear I didn't. I did everything correctly—"

"Then why on earth is Namjoon under a puppy love spell?"

Glancing your eyes at Rina, you hear whispers among the crowd who watch as she tries to push a puppy in love Namjoon away from her. He whines and whimpers each time she makes the distance greater between them.

"Who did this!" Rina exclaims, trying to push a licking Namjoon away from her. "Who in the heavens thought this was funny? I will be reporting this to my mother and every little squeamish fritter that allowed this to happen— no, Namjoon, bad dog!"

This allows you to snort, all your laughter you were containing bursting out as you couldn't hold it in anymore. However, doing so only allows Rina to make direct eye contact with you, her face twisting in volatile spite, knowing very well that you are the culprit. Widening your eyes, you began to run before your mind processed it.

"___!" Rina screeches from the tops of her lungs, everyone in front of you turning heads to find you, the witch who dared to pull a little stunt against the High Priestess's daughter.

Legs stride step by step, zooming through the halls with adrenaline pumping your veins as the wretched witch was probably right behind you, chasing you down when you hear the sounds of heels, knowing very well that's Rina's 3-inch heeled mules clacking in the distance. Professors peek their head out of their classroom in curiosity, some yelling at you to not run in the halls, however, your eye is set on the prize— the exit.

It was closed, and to save time, you swipe your hand in front of you, a spell recited in your head swinging the door wide open that it hits the walls and causes a loud slamming noise. It was the door that led out to the garden of the academy of where fresh herbs grew, and at this point of your escape plan, you were hoping to hide in the depths of the greenhouse until class ended.

You run down the steps, eyes looking down as your feet land on each step, careful not to miss one or you'd fall down to your doom. And just when you safely made it down the staircase, you are bumped into a wall of rigid flesh and muscle, your immediate reaction to apologize, except the words are taken out of your mouth when you look up and see the face on all pictures and drawings matching to the person who looked just as mesmerizing in person as he is on paper; the one and only—

"Your grace," Jungkook hears you sputter, shutting your eyes and lowering your head to hide your own embarrassment and disappointment in such a quick second. His men behind him step forward, but he raises a hand to halt them in their place. "My sincere apologies—"

"Do you have no mind?" Jungkook hears the secretary who was leading him on a tour around Ember Academy snap, her booming and high-pitched screech at the sheer shame that has been exchanged by this incident.

"I am so incredibly sorry, your grace. I am at fault—"

The king himself is not at all bothered by a simple bump by a young witch, considering that it seemed you were on the run from something. He glances down at you in subtle curiosity, your head bowed before him with your hair braided, as you stand still despite the constant nagging of the secretary scolding you for being so unaware. And something catches his eye.

His eyes focus in on the crystal of pale, fair, ivory that hangs on your neck. It twinkles in his sight with the sunlight just bouncing off of it into his cornea, right before he settles in recognition of where he recalls it. There's a swift movement moments later of where you raise your head just slight, only to lock eyes with him.

How you've grown, he thinks to himself. He remembers how your eyes were that of similar of a doe, and how you stared at him with the same wide eyes when you were little. It scares him how much time has passed and how you stand before him, more matured than before— he wasn't expecting to see you this soon.

The locked gaze lasted briefly before your eyes widen and you bring your head back down.

He manages to let out a sigh, "I suggest you pay attention where you are going in the future."

Jungkook can tell that you were surprised by his response, despite you committing the worst crime by even daring to be this close to the king. Even the secretary was a distance away from him.

"Yes, your grace."

"You may look up," he speaks. The permission makes you hesitate, but swallowing the lump in your throat, you inhale deeply and rise, and when you steadily meet his eyes, immediately, it's as if you could see his past. The pain and sorrow he has been through. It all encompasses into the hallows of his eyes.

"What is your name?" You blink at the question blankly as he awaits your answer, arching an eyebrow when you stay mute. "Well?"

"___," you answer. "My name is ___, your grace."

There's this glint in Jungkook's eye that even he is aware that you notice. It occurs to him that he has not once asked your name before, but somehow he finds it this moment valuable to gain that piece of you. Meanwhile, you hope he does not find any significance to your name, that this incident isn't one to be held against one day.

It's then, he smirks, giving a single nod, etching your name into his brain for he knows he will not forget it. 

"Your name will be in my memory, ___," he speaks ominously. Your heart drops in return. "You are dismissed."

six years later.

"Welcome."

The books weighed heavy in your arms, but you ignored the fact that it was nearly slipping out of your grasp as you gripped on the jar of dried magnolia leaves in the other hand, making your way to the small work table just right out into the shop of where you greet the presence inside the shop. Taking one last step to your marked destination, you let out a sigh of relief, your shoulders relaxing as you plop all of the buttery books onto the work table, still keeping the jar of magnolia leaves in your grasp.

"Is Circe here?"

At first, the voice processes in your mind, realizing that you were so engrossed on completing a minor trip without making a fool of yourself and dropping all your books at once that you forget for a mere moment that someone was in the shop. And what makes your whole body freeze like the ice age of modern day was the name you haven't heard in so long— only when your father would let it tumble out of his mouth and him being the last one to ever speak of the name.

The aura shifted within the shop. Not daring to turn around and meet eye to eye with the person who knows your mother's real identity, you keep your back turned away, placing the jar gently onto the table right next to your books, a pinky setting down first before gently setting down the bottom of the jar to relieve the loud sound it would have made.

"Who's asking?"

There's a moment of hesitation, one that you can only take in as sly and mischievous. Silently, you maintain a mantra in your head, one that recites a spell to freeze one's muscles entirely, the silence teeter totter between having to put the spell to use or not. The sound of a step is heard— one that sounds too close for your liking that in a whirlwind, you swiftly twirl around and let the mantra come to life in an instant, "carpe musculus."

And with wide eyes, you realize your mistake immediately when eyes lock with the ones that belong to the sheer ruler of the property you stand on— the king. It wasn't hard to forget them, since the last time you two had a rather unpleasant encounter. His eyebrow quirks up at your spell you casted upon him, his body completely frozen over as he was in the midst of grabbing one of the crystal necklaces hung on display at the register, an arm outstretched, but posture and dignified stature remained.

"An old acquaintance."

"Verto," you mutter, blinking with the same wide eyes as you see him gain control over his muscles again, his hand retracting and meeting his other hand from the behind, his throat clearing at the situation that he assumed— correctly— that you were fearful of. Bringing your head down instinctively, you open your mouth with eyes shut. "Your grace, I apologize—"

"Apology accepted," he cuts you off, making you peer up at his form from the curtains of your draping hair. Slowly, you rise your head, keeping your chin up to match his formal, dignified persona. "I am merely here to see your mother."

Scoffing lightly, you let your lips curl upward, turning around to grab at the jar of dried magnolia leaves from the table. "You must be an old acquaintance to call my mother by her real name," you take note aloud, wandering and maneuvering around the vast shop to the corner near the front of where the jars of special ingredients sit in the cupboards.

"Is Circe not what she goes by?"

You shake your head, opening the jar with one of the keys wrapped around your neck, twisting and turning before the cupboard unraveled a collection started by your mother. "Cora," you correct him. "She went by Cora."

"Very well then. Is Cora present?"

You blink at the question, mindlessly nudging the other jars to make room for your new ingredient you've obtained from the village due to a friendly seller who saved the leaves just for you.

"You just missed her," you announce, placing the jar snugly just between the phoenix feathers and pickled frog tongues. "By three years. She passed away."

"She passed?" The king speaks his question in subtle shock, evidently oblivious to your mother's passing, one that makes you question what connection he had to your mother as you turn around to meet his wide eyes. Politely, he realizes the atmosphere that was created and clears his throat. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"I'm sorry for yours," you try to keep the the spirits high, a teasing smile on your lips. "It seems like whatever reason you came here for was pretty important if the king is in need of my mother's services. And in replacement of my mother's absence, how may I assist you?"

In comparison to the young witch that was so invigorated with competition that you grew blind to your own surroundings, you were not like her to easily cower in front of intimidating figures— including the king— anymore. If she saw you now, she'd probably wonder why you are so nonchalant speaking to the king as you are in the moment, but there is one thing you noticed that allowed you to act the way that you are now.

He came into the shop looking for your mother, seeking for her services. Though he has the power to put you into exile or to chop your head off or to even rip your heart out of your chest, it means nothing when he is obviously wanting a favor.

Jungkook's eyes narrow slightly before he scoffs lightly. "Not quite sure if you can help me."

"I'm not that sure either," you muse. "But I am the next option to my mother's assistance. Or if you have no interest of my assistance, then I believe this shop is not meant for you, your grace."

It wasn't hard to notice that he was having an internal battle the minute you turned the other cheek to resume what you were doing. Shutting the cabinet and locking it, you wander to the back of the room of where the work table was, taking the top book of the stack and dusting it with one of your mini feather dusters.

"What do you know about Complements?"

Freezing your wrist, you take a second to process the question set in the air, your eyebrows furrowing. Setting the duster and the ancient novel down, you twirl around once more to meet the eyes of the distant king, each second becoming more comfortable under his gaze that seemingly brought temptation and fear amongst others.

"Depends. I'm not very interested in the topic enough to know the ins and outs of it. However, I do know how to expose a Compliment tie—"

"What about erasing a Complement tie?"

An eyebrow shoots up on your face, his questions becoming more questionable from your mere curious uprising, but as you let his inquiry sit in your mind, you shrug. "Never been done."

His grace scoffs, allowing the pad of his thumb swipe under his nose before returning to hold his hand from his behind. "That's what your mother said."

"And I'm afraid, to this day, her word remains true," retorting to his attitude, you fold your arms over your chest. "However, I can unknot a Complement tie if needed."

"Your mother has already done that."

"Of course she has," you roll your eyes, realizing that the more you talk to the king of Frawen, the more you realize that you were talking to a wall. "How about this? I will do some digging about it in her archives. She has mentioned before that terminating a Compliment tie is hard. However, I do believe it's not impossible." He stares at you attentively before you placate his energy with a smile, a little light of hope intended. "I will come by your castle once I've retrieved a decent amount of information."

He stays silent, a steady gaze on your eyes that slowly made you more uncomfortable with each passing second, but thank the dark lords that someone enters your shop, the door making a very loud entrance that ruined the staring contest between you two, your eyes averting to the customer who entered the premises.

"Welcome," you announce, strolling from the work table up to the front to sit right behind the register, flickering your eyes towards the king when seeing that he hasn't moved from his spot. "Until then, King Jungkook, I have a customer to attend to."

The customer that saved the awkward tension takes a step into the shop, but with a single glance headed their way from the king, the customer drops their head and mutters an, "I'll wait outside" and flees back into the Upper World sun, the door shutting again. Lips parting, you gape at Jungkook who looks back at you, ignoring that his own presence had made one of your customers scurry off in intimidation.

"When will I hear from you again?"

Scoffing at him, you shake your head at his evident advantage and inhale deeply. "I'll start doing some research tonight, your grace. Expect me in front of your castle in two days. And if you could kindly so, can you tell my customer they may come in on your way out?"

He lets his gaze linger on yours for a second before silently nodding on his way out, his presence exchanged for the customer's. The customer glances at you awkwardly as you count write something on a piece of paper with your quill, as if confused that you were not trembling after just speaking with the king, but going back to your normal day as if the king had never arrived.

"Why, King Jungkook came to visit. Quite sooner than I expected," the amused tone that drips from Circe's tongue when she notices the arrival of none other than the King of Frawen just two weeks after he had gone up and left her abode after the reveal of his dreaded Complement tie.

"Came to greet a happy birthday to her?" The witch doesn't meet his brooding gaze, but gathers bouquets of flowers in her hold.

"No," he flatly states. "I still have a favor to ask of you."

"Ah," Circe nods, balancing the bouquet carefully before tossing her aging hair over her shoulder. "The one about your Complement? You left so quick the last time we spoke."

Jungkook clenches his jaw, an attempt to not forget that his own fear and apprehension after making the forsaken revelation that he had met his Complement so soon; a child— a hybrid, a product against the Upper World law— is his Complement. Curse himself for being so easily affected.

And while the two have known each other for awhile, Circe wastes no time to remind him of inevitable fate, despite her own idea of the past he carries. It weighs on him heavily that even Circe cannot recognize the aura of whom she once knew of.

"Yes," he inhales sharply. "I need you to erase it."

Circe bellows a light chuckle, one that makes his eyebrows raise at the response. "Are you insinuating I kill my daughter?"

Jungkook knows that the witch likes to dig in places to prevent the other party from kicking around the bush. She hates fluff and she hates time being wasted. Only now, giving up her eternal life only makes her that much crabbier about it.

"Do you believe that I'd be daft enough to try to imply such a thing?" He shakes his head, a slight smirk growing on his face. "Murder doesn't sit very well on my shoulders, Circe. You must at least know that much of me."

"Do I? It's been too long."

Jungkook smiles at the grinning witch, "I am insinuating you sever our Complement tie."

The witch in decorative forest green and black, stares at the king who wears a sack-colored cloak that did not do justice hiding his black, feathered doublet that resembled such royalty and wealth. Even with the hood on, it is no mistaking that the man with raven hair and pale, glimmering skin, is the king. She laughs, her finger tapping against the paper wrapped around the bouquet of plum-hued calla lilies. "I'm afraid I can only live up to your favor in part."

"The most powerful witch I know cannot cut a Complement tie?"

She is no stranger to his challenges, but because she has no need to maintain the name of being the infamous witch who wields such immense power no longer (as she knows that name will be given to someone much worthy), she merely shrugs, a smile on her face. "Not even I know how to cut a Complement tie, dearest Jungkook."

"Your lack of knowledge of erasing something as mere as a Complement tie is disconcerting, Circe."

The witch hums in response, before whispering something of broken latin, and with a waver of a her fingers, a string of deep scarlet attaches against Jungkook's chest, one that floats in the air and trails in a ragged line right over Circe's shoulder and through the wooden door of her home as if he were tied to something— to someone.

The unveiling of the string causes Jungkook's breath to be caught in his throat, a pinch of nothing like before right against his chest of where the string is attached to.

"I see that, despite your best efforts, you could not stray away from her. And you want to know why?" Circe turns over her shoulder, before pointing at the single evident knot made along the string. "This knot was formed when she touched you and so long as it is there, you will live in constant yearning to see her and to be with her. Tell me, how many times have you had to prevent yourself from coming here until it became too unbearable?"

"Can you reverse it? Untie the knot?" His breath is tattered, uneven. It's as if the exposure of the string wrapped every inch of his heart and silently, the king of Frawen fears that his heart might be taken out of his chest.

"I can," she nods, an expression of indifference on her face. "But doing so does not change the fact that you are each other's Complements. It means that you will no longer feel the constant and desperate need to see her."

"Then I beg of you to do it—"

"However, the bond is strong, Jungkook," her gold eyes stare back at him before they soften, as Jungkook's mental mantras to fight off the peculiar pain deriving from the scarlet string has become a door to all of the pains he has experienced in the past. "I fear that the more you leave it in the dark, the more it will create more conflicts in the future."

"Having this complement now is already creating conflicts for me, Circe."

"Jungkook, if you two were to see each other again by the universe's happenings, must you know that the knot cannot be made again by simple touches. It has to be tied by the hand of a witch."

"If it's not any burden to you," he breathes in sharply. "I'd like you to unknot our Complement tie."

Circe makes a face of indifference before sighing. "Very well," she states just before she mumbles another string of latin and snaps, and lo and behold, the knot unravels by itself. The scarlet rope looked like it had no indentation of where the knot once was.

Jungkook lets out an aching sigh, as if he was under water for too long. Circe makes one more movement of her hand before the red string dissipates into the air, no longer exposed to the eye.

"There," she says. "Now leave, before she sees you again."

Circe doesn't give Jungkook a look of goodbye as she hurries inside her house. She feels the presence of Jungkook leave, exhaling in relief as she peers down at her daughter who gleams up at her, her hair in two buns on either side of her head. Her daughter lets out a squeal of "mommy!" before dropping a sage bundle in her hand to run up and hug Circe's leg.

"Happy birthday, my dear. Six years old already?" The witch pats her daughter's head as she giggles against her. "Go on into the kitchen. I'll be there in a moment."

And as she turns around to trot inside the kitchen, Circe takes notice of her neck that has been exposed due to her hairstyle that she wanted to wear this morning. The etching of her Complement mark that once inked her skin of a rose, had become a blank canvas.

As if the mark was never there to begin with.

You haul across the other wing of the castle that stretches from the main entrance of where the gigantic black, grandiose door stares at you mockingly for not having the privilege to be invited by the king himself as well as enter the main entrance to unravel the glory of what stood for centuries.

Servants of the fairest skin and darkest of hairs escort you to the a room you are unsure of, but you don't question them when they open the doors for you of the building. This was as close you were ever getting to the castle.

"Your grace," you announce your arrival before you could realize that another man stands there from the side of your kingdom's king. Freezing in place with books tensing against your chest, your lips part. "King Jimin—!"

"Hello— oh, please. I don't like the bowing," his voice is light, a striking contrast from Jungkook's ominous tone. You lift your head that was on the way down of honorability, eyes staying wide at his unexpected presence. "Trust me, I'm not a big formalities type of person like my brother."

"What is it? Did you find anything?" The king ruins the moment by his barking, an impatience growing in his chest.

You open your mouth, and close it. "Yes, and no."

"Proceed."

Walking over to the table, Jimin smirks when he hears the loud plop that comes from your stacks of ancient books slapping on the table, dust sprinkles in the air by such impact as you wave it dismissively out of your face to spread out the books evenly.

"These are just merely collections my mother had of Complement ties laying out and about," you begin, grabbing hold of the green and gold accented leather bind novel of browning pages. "They all talk about the history of it, the perspectives of it, and some old spells that used to be done moderately back then, but have been taken out of a witch's curriculum in school. Oh, like this one goes on and on about the importance of it and why finding out who your Complement is before you meet them is deemed as bad luck. Like seeing the bride before the wedding, which actually originated from arranged marriages when— sorry, tangent. If I can just find the book..." As your voice trails, your eyes furrow in concentration to find the book amongst the pile you brought that would deem as very important.

Finally, you hold it up to and pat it, Jungkook raising an eyebrow and Jimin looking bemused at your inner workings being elicited through your rambles and tangents.

"This is where I stumbled upon something fruitful," you began. "It's a book that's anti-Complement. The author was actually a witch who thought his Complement was, and I quote, "vile and tremendously horrendous", so he composed this book that explains how to unknot the Complement tie."

"Nothing about cutting it?"

You smile as you open the book. "There's a whole chapter about it, but," as you flip open to it, the book in your hands bursts into bright blue flames illuminating your skin with a blue tint before it calms down, living proof that the book itself was cursed, either by the author or your mother's doing. "The book has been cursed and the most vital information you want means you're not the only one who is searching for a severance."

"Couldn't you just... cut it?" King Jimin chimes in and you shake your head.

"No, this witch said that cutting it would damage the blade and not the tie," you close the book to prevent the fire from getting anywhere. "The tie itself, when exposed, is simply a scarlet rope. Its material is very ethereal and even your finest sword cannot cut it in two."

"Brilliant," Jungkook says, defeatedly. He sucks in a deep breath before looking at you, eyes flickering up and down your form. "When will I hear from you again?"

Making a loud sound as you stack the books on top of each other, you look up at him and raise an eyebrow. "Again? You're expecting me to continue the search for an answer that I can't give you? This is all the information that I can gather from my mother's archive. I don't know what else you expect me to do."

"What the daughter of the most powerful witch of this kingdom can do, of course," he retorts, easily. It makes you scoff.

"I apologize, your grace, but I am not going through those extra lengths."

"For someone who adheres to formalities very often, you don't seem to be very intimidated by me. At least not enough to do what I say."

"Is your job as a king to be intimidating?"

It was that type of riposte that would have your head, an immediate escort to your death for even thinking that a cocky retort would come out of your mouth. If only if Jimin hadn't let out an amused snort, punishment would not have immediately be put off the table, but the irritation forming in the king's blood remains. He doesn't turn to his brother to hush him, but rather keeps a heavy stare at you, narrowed eyes into slits as a heavy warning— yet you stay grounded, raising an eyebrow at him.

"And you don't seem to know when to not speak your mind."

"With all due respect, King Jungkook, may I remind you I am here because you requested my services. I've given you what I can provide, free of charge. My mother has probably dealt with a customer who has wanted the same thing, and if the book was cursed, it's a heavy sign that it's not a wise path to follow."

King Jungkook inhales deeply, eyes staring at the hybrid who fears nothing under his gaze. He mentally curses to himself knowing very well that Circe was the most probable culprit of cursing her own books, for the sole reason of not wanting him to get his hands on vital information that would separate a Complement tie attached to her own daughter. Sighing, he makes a dismissive nod towards you, a finger tapping on his arm chair repeatedly. "Very well. Dismissed."

And without a word, you gather your things and leave, the same men escorting you away from the castle and the inconsiderate king.

Once your presence no longer lingered, Jungkook sinks down into his chair, letting his head fall against the fist of his arm that propped it up. Jimin clicks his tongue beside him.

"Now tell that was not who I thought that was," Jimin sings once the door had fully shut closed and it was just Jungkook and his brother of the neighboring kingdom.

"Your instincts are spot on, brother," Jungkook says with heavy sarcasm, shaking his head.

Jimin heartily laughs. "It doesn't take a Merlin to see that she's your Complement. It's quite obvious."

"Care to go more in depth?"

"Other than the fact that she's the only outsider you granted a visit at your castle, you're not so quick to throw her out either," he begins before tapping his finger on the table. "You also don't like looking her in the eye. You get tense when you do. Either you fear her or you fear getting close to her."

Jungkook raises an eyebrow in surprise at his brother's quick observation— it must be all the times he's observing human behavior in the mortal world.

"She's mentioned that her books derive from her mother's archives— is her mother...?"

"Her mother was the one that undid our Complement knot."

"Her mother was the infamous Circe, then?" Jimin marvels with his signature taunting smirk on his face. "Well, I'll be damned."

"You already are," Jungkook rolls his eyes.

"Your Complement is a hybrid— and not just a hybrid, Circe's daughter?" Jungkook didn't like that his own brother kept reminding him of who his Complement was, thus encouraging the fire of searching for a severance. "Despite the fact that she holds tremendous power, she seems very promising. You're not fond of her?"

"Jimin, you know—"

"Right, pardon me. You don't want her," Jimin inhales deeply, nodding.

"Jimin," Jungkook begins once again. "I can't have her as my Complement. I need her to find a spell to wither our tie."

"Is there another reason why you need to find such spell other than you're dreading that she's bound to you?"

"So that she could find real love and romance. She will not find it with me."

There was an unreadable look in Jimin's face that even his own brother could not decipher. It lingers for a moment before he makes the executive decision to stand up from the seat, knocking on the table with his pale knuckles. "I'm heading back to Merosa. May I make the suggestion that you take her to Sagewood?"

"Sagewood? Why in the heavens would I take her there?"

"If you want to cut the tie so badly, then I think it wouldn't be a very shabby place to start, no? After all, she only has access to such limited information— you're not being much help either. Besides, you both will most likely find something valuable there."

It was pruning day.

The plants you planted outside your windowsill in its respected pots looked green as ever, with some minor flaws sticking out. You walk outside with shears in hand, identifying the buds you'd snip off with love. You enjoy taking care of your plants, the only common denominator between this world and the mundane world that gave you a sense of normality.

Humming an old folk tune from the mundane world, you admire your plants, recalling that some of these plants were the ones your mother would plant back in the mundane world. As you snip off one of your greenery, you hear the faint sounds of neighs from afar, halting in front of your shop and creating audible commotion behind your back. You overhear your neighbors rush out of their respected buildings, having you grow curious by the second.

Raising an eyebrow, you turn around to find nothing but the king hopping off his trusty steed of ebony glory with a luscious mane, planting his feet flat onto the ground with ease while two other men follow his lead, staying a hearty distance from him. He meets your eyes immediately, ignoring that everyone around him are caught in a trance by his sudden appearance in the town.

"King Jungkook," you marvel with a smirk, ignoring the fact that your neighbors were staring in mixed awe and fear. "What a lovely surprise."

He approaches you, stepping onto the gravel, expressionless. "I request your stay at my castle."

The words don't process fast enough in your mind, a blank expression being your response, but even then, you couldn't help but to laugh, but it came out more like a baffled scoff. "I beg your pardon?"

"To make use of the castle's library," he fills in, a smirk painting his face. "We, too, have an archive for all things your curious, knowledgable mind may want to see. Thousands of collections over the centuries, compilations from notable figures. I'm giving you access to that information in search of the severance."

You gape at him, lowering your shears. The king takes this action with positivity as his smirk only grows for a second before he's back to his emotionless expression.

"I will have my men come by to escort you to the castle tomorrow morning at nine-hundred. Pack your things," he says with no confirmation from you. His passive command makes you blink while you watch him turn his shoulder.

Amidst his turn to head back to his source of transportation and the other men who stand in front of your property, you stop him, "really? And when have I agreed?"

His body comes to a full stop just a hearty amount of distance from you. "And you wouldn't?" He calmly states aloud. In a moment, he's turning his body back to completely face you, cocking his head slight. "Tell me, you're not at all curious about how to cut a Complement tie?"

"Why would I? I have no intention of doing so."

"So you'd want to stay bound to one person your whole life? When you meet your Complement, you want to be so attached to the point that being even just miles away from them tears you apart? Every second you do not see them is as if your heart is being shredded apart in layers. Finding out who your Complement is only ruins you in a way that is a hell disguised as a heaven," he says as if it were straight spitfire. There was remorse and dread in his voice that even you cannot decipher completely— as if the pain that courses through his vein is truly authentic.

"In the mundane world, it's different, no? Humans fall in love with who they want, when they want. Did you ever compare that to the Upper World where it is frowned upon to not be with your Complement?"

"They differ, yes," you say through gritted teeth.

"Are you not so curious as to how to sever the tie? To at least be one of the first witches in centuries to hold great knowledge of a severance? That maybe you would one day change your intentions to cut your tie?"

You stay silent, placing your shears down as you stare at him attentively. Sure, you were curious, but your curiosity grew more prevalent seeing how the king was doing so much as to using a rhetoric tactic to ease your answer into a yes. And oddly enough, it was working.

"Besides... free stay, breakfast— in the castle? Surrounded by all things good and gold?"

Letting out a scoff, you narrow your eyes at him. "Is that your way of paying me for my services? A bed and breakfast at the castle? A week to pretend I'm royalty?" Challenge dripped from your tone evidently, but while the others around you and nearly the whole kingdom all feared the king's presence, you didn't share the same feeling. After all, this was the king asking for your services.

And suddenly, his expression changes, one of seriousness turned into dry amusement as he lets out a deep laugh bellowing from his stomach. "No, I'm offended that you may think I'm that cheap," he states as you raise an eyebrow, stabbing your shears, sharp point down into the window sill just right behind your plants. "I may have taken advantage of your services before, forgetting my place as a client to you. For that, I apologize sincerely. I am offering pounds of gold to you in exchange that you continue your search to cut a tie."

"Pounds of gold?"

"I notice that you live in your shop," he speaks of apparentness, making your cheeks go red as he turns his gaze to look at the shop behind you, a place you vaguely remember growing up in. "After your mother died, you decided to turn your home into a shop? Selling your services?" In that moment, you freeze only slight, caught off guard by how easily he put two and two together, you merely forgetting that he was an "acquaintance" with your mother— of course, he knew of this property before you probably were born.

"If the pounds of gold are not enough, I would be glad to make your stay at the castle permanent after you've found the severance."

You raise your eyebrows at his offer, never missing the way his lips quirked upwards for a ghostly second when he sees he's appealing you in the right direction.

"A permanent stay at your castle? As what? Your mistress? A maid?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Of course not. Your mother would find a way to resurrect herself to rid of my existence if she found out that I made you, her daughter, a mistress. Let alone a maid."

"You will be staying at my castle free of charge. And while I know this shop has been dear to your mother— dear to you, I am also willing to put a new location in the center of Sapphire Hill for your services on the table. Closer to the castle and in the heart of Frawen. That is, only if you have a mind to accept my proposal."

Inhaling sharply, you both stare at each other in silence as your mind juggles and he patiently awaits your answer, his body still as a stone, probably cold as one too. There was no other ulterior option to choose from— after all, why would you decline such a proposal? You were just as curious about the severance as he was, wondering why your mother never wanted to stray close to that path and why she has never mentioned about it before. And perhaps, you too could also cut your tie before you ever get to find your Complement if you ever came down to it.

However, despite his generous offers for a mere severance, there was a deep feeling in your stomach that didn't sit very well with you, one that was silently yearning you to not accept. It felt alarmingly unnatural. Just as unnatural as interacting with the king up close three times in a month.

"Alright," you sigh, defeatedly, grabbing your shears from the wood and returning to pruning day. "You've appealed to me."

"Wonderful," he acknowledges, a single celebratory nod coming your way before he turns around to head back on his steed. "I will have people to escort you tomorrow. Nine-hundred."  

"Quite a castle," you announce, eyes boggling at the interior design of the castle you never thought you'd see in person. Hell, you didn't think you'd ever get to see it closer than it being on top of the hill until just previously.

The halls were a fair color accented with alluring gold, intricate designs resembling a brush stroke, as if the gold were painted free-handedly, yet a symmetry being maintained. Crimson rugs, drapes, furniture dabble the expense of the hallway itself, and ebony statues and sculptures stare back at you broodingly. Two broad statues of fairies introduce you on either side of the entrance, facing each other with conch shells held to their mouths.

Selene purrs in your arms, probably just as dazzled at the structure as you are. "I know, baby, I know," you mutter under your breath as your pace slows along the red carpet.

"___." The voice announcing your name echoes throughout the vast hallway, pulling you out of your thoughts and daydreams as you peer towards the grandiose staircase ahead, finding a familiar figure in red with accenting white tassels walk down the steps, slowly and gracefully.

Selene suddenly paws out of your grasp to be let go of, you lowering her down to the floor carefully as you know that she likes to roam around new and foreign areas by herself.

"Your grace," you acknowledge, pacing towards him to meet him in the middle, eyes watching Selene trot along the scarlet carpet just in front of you, only to realize that she made her independent way to the king. You arch an eyebrow when Jungkook stops his footing altogether, both of you noticing Selene taking a liking into him, purring against his leg and her tail curling around his calf, making elegant circles around him in adoration. "I see Selene likes you."

Jungkook coughs before removing his eyes from the feline to meet yours. "You have a cat."

"I do," you nod. "Is she not allowed in the castle?"

"I'll make the exception," Jungkook swallows as Selene rubs her cheek against his leg. You mentally thank Selene for kissing his arse, knowing that Jungkook might have gone soft for your feline friend immediately and discarded the direct thought of kicking her out.

"I was given her a couple years back."

"Were you?"

You hum in response. "Given to me as a gift for my birthday. I named her after selenite, one of my favorite crystals."

"As long as she doesn't get into anyone's way, your feline company is welcome. However, if she were to be causing mischief, do not be blowed if she is in your soup," the king warns as he turns around, a hand motioning you to trail behind him, but the whole situation nearly made you snort out loud. Was that humour in his voice?

Following him, you scoop Selene with a hand as you caught up to her, cutting her curiosity trip short as you did not want to have her disappear and find her as your dinner, despite King Jungkook's warning sounding slightly sarcastic. His foot steps climbing up the stairs echo, his boots emphasizing his steps as you follow a few steps behind him, your flats being light-sounded from underneath you.

The Upper World resembled a victorian age from the mundane world. As much as you missed your tennis shoes and trousers, the Upper World called for bell-shaped dresses, the air-sucking corsets, and uncomfortable shoes that hurt your back if standing for too long.

As King Jungkook walks down the spacious hall with such glorious designs, you notice that there were two beautiful women in gray high neck dresses, eggshell aprons wrapped around their waist standing on the side with head lowered. Despite their dull attire, their appearance is what caught your eye.

The one on the right had skin of the bluest topaz with complementing navy hair tied up into a sleek bun. If she had looked up earlier, you would admire her sunshine eyes that made her look so kind. The on the left had contrasting mauve skin and emerald hair flowing down her shoulders. She wore a headband to keep her hair out of her face.

Nymphs.

"Cricket, Calla," the king's voice ruined the solace of the hallway, the snap of both ethereal beings' heads making direct eye contact with King Jungkook, you catching the hazel eyes of the mauve skinned beauty for a split second before she keeps steady eye contact with the person she serves.

"They will be serving you throughout your stay," he states towards you, a nod cueing the two nymphs accordingly.

"Good morning, ___. I am Calla," the topaz nymph speaks first, bowing her head as you respectfully did the same.

"And I, Cricket," her partner speaks, bowing as well.

"It is lovely to meet you both, Calla and Cricket," you speak with a kind tone as they give the smallest of shy smiles.

"Aster and Fickle are unloading the carriages. They will be up to bring her belongings in any minute. You may start unpacking—"

"Oh no, that's not necessary," you intervene. The king sends you a glare for interrupting him, but daringly, you roll your eyes at him. "Cricket, Calla, just have Aster and Fickle leave my luggages on my bed. I didn't pack heavy, so it's alright. I'd prefer if I unpack myself."

"As you wish," Cricket and Calla say in unison before King Jungkook gives one last asserting, yet hesitating nod, turning his shoulder to continue walking down the hall.

"Come. I will show you the library," he orders, having you share one last look at the beautiful nymphs who both smile at you. In that moment, you give them a smile that you hoped would make them feel safe— as if you all have been friends before. As you tear your eyes away, you trot up to the king's pace, Selene being safe in your arms as you mentally curse the king for having long legs.

Walking for nearly a minute or two, you didn't realize he had stopped in front of large double doors, black wood engraved with the exact designs you recall in the main entrance, intriguing you with every bit. You blink for a nanosecond until you hear the door unlock and open, having to blink once more when you see that the king was only a few feet away from the immense opening, arms held behind his back as the door widened.

"Did you do that?" You question aloud. It sounded very mundane of you— as if you had not seen anything weirder in the Upper World.

"Yes," he speaks, raising an eyebrow at you as you wait for the doors to open fully. "I am a Pureblood, aren't I?"

His reminder made you realize that you did indeed forget that Purebloods hold some sort of power. It was only the three kings who held such powers, being why they were named the most powerful trio over centuries to live. Unsure why, you didn't take the King of Frawen to hold telekinesis, if anything.

The doors finally stop opening, two grand doors coming to a halt on either side of the opening and creating an entrance to a room that already has your mouth hung open.

"This is the library," he speaks, taking a step in first. "All of Frawen's greatest works over the centuries are all kept in here."

It was not the immense room that was its own castle itself, but it was the giant collections, endless spines of literature and word composition that was tempting you to swallow all of the knowledge up from them.

"These are the collections of Edgar Allen Poe," you observe, remembering that you had to read one of his famous works in your mundane junior high, the eerie components of his pieces standing out to you enough that you recall his name. "The Upper World holds mortal works?"

"Just the finer ones. Homer, Machiavelli, the Brontë sisters, Cordelia Maine—"

You widen your eyes. "No way. Cordelia Maine? You have her works, too?"

"Of course," he laughs at your never-ending bafflement. "She might be famous to you mortals, but her roots don't stray away from Frawen."

"Mortals," you repeat, catching his word that he knowingly categorizes you. It makes you blink up at him, more concerned why you weren't feeling as uneasy as you should that the king who stands in front of you and has brought you inside his castle knows you're the product against the Upper World law. "Dare I ask how you know this?"

The king smirks at you, probably bemused at how you weren't exactly trembling in your boots, but you probably have a spell prepared at the tip of your tongue. "Do you forget that I can smell your blood? You reek of mortals."

Arching an eyebrow at him, you narrow your eyes just slight. "Should I be worried?"

He smirks. "That I hold such knowledge? No, or else I would have no way to find a severance now, would I?" His rhetorical question is followed with a quirk of his eyebrow, a bemused smile illuminated from the indirect sun from the window. "Besides, your mother and I were acquaintances. I am well aware of your father and while I have never met him, I do know that your mother loved him, even if they were worlds apart."

Not saying another word, you smile. One that lingers on your face for a bit, one that is shared between you and the king, one that is as if you two have created some sort of connection by this secret he finds indifference to.

However, you do not let the smile linger for too long, for you cannot trust anyone so easily, no matter if your heart is oddly beating out of your chest and there is an odd stir in your stomach when his eyes remain on your form for a moment as if he is trying to study you and your every feature.

You disregard it though, as if a chip on your shoulder, or a hair in your face when he leads you back to your room from the grand library, claiming he has work to finish.

Later that afternoon, you were in the midst of unpacking your luggages when Calla and Cricket make an appearance into your room. They were there to escort you to lunch, but you told them to give you a few minutes to organize your things, encouraging them to wait in your room as you did so.

"Are you his betrothed?"

The sudden question makes you stumble, nearly dropping the books in your hand that you deemed most viable to bring to this trip. "Sorry?" You laugh, looking at them with a sheepish smile. A harmless question, but a stretch to inquire.

"Isn't that why he's having you stay here at the castle?" Cricket asks, keeping her hands intertwined in front of her as they both watch you organize your knick-knacks of books and crystals and Selene's toys.

"Oh to the heavens, no," you laugh, Cricket furrowing her eyebrows and cocking her head to the side, wondering why your peculiar stay at the castle isn't for that singular motive. "I'm here for an entirely different reason."

Calla blinks blankly, her long, blue lashes making it obvious. "Our king doesn't usually like to keep guests overnight— let alone indefinitely."

Placing your books onto the antique dresser, you raise an eyebrow at them. "Is that right?"

"We thought, perhaps, this was his attempt in courting you," Cricket says, rather timidly. "After all, you're very beautiful."

The compliment brings red to your cheeks. "You're just saying that—"

"But, 'tis true," Calla nods. "We're nymphs—"

"We can't lie—"

"We thought that he may have found love again—"

"We would be surprised if he didn't find you, at the very least, beautiful—"

"Our king doesn't open a room for just anyone, since he's very..."

"Closed off."

They jump off their sentences swiftly, as if a ball ricocheted against the walls in great speed and force. It intrigues you as you furrow your eyebrows, more interested in the last part they had to say. "Closed off? Why is that?"

Cricket and Calla look at each other before bringing their head down. "Have you not heard of his past?" You shake your head before Calla sighs and begins again. "Our king is the most kind, most fair— but it does not redirect the light away from his past—"

"Lost the people most close to him. Lost his mind along the way, and perhaps, most tragically, lost his soul. It began with Dawn and then his best friend who happened to be his general, and then his parents, and so on. They are frightened of him."

You furrow your eyebrows. "Who's they?"

"All of Frawen. Even those in the mundane world have heard of his story," Cricket answers.

"Frawen respects our king, if anything. However, that respect derives from fear. I'm afraid that the people in this castle are the only people who love him, who see the better in him."

"So I see it's been a lonely castle on this hill," you nod in understanding. "I won't bombard you both with anymore questions. You both are free to leave, I will meet you both in the dining room."

"Are you sure, my lady?"

"I'm sure. Please, I do not want to be a burden to you both."

The nymphs giggle. "We assure you that you are not. It's rather refreshing to tend to someone other than the king and his brothers."

"You both have been very kind. I will see you both there."

"And my lady," Cricket speaks. "We wish you a wonderful stay."

"Jungkook," Circe acknowledges his presence in a blink of an eye the minute he makes a step onto the property that was under an invisibility spell for nearly a decade, only to have it reappear as if it didn't disappear in the first place. "Here to welcome me back?"

The king lowly laughs, not taking another step onto the property as Circe turns around from watering her deep red rose bushes planted right outside. "I was surprised to hear that you made a foolish decision to move to the mundane world."

Circe ticks her tongue, shaking her head at how his prejudice against the humans stain his tone. "I don't believe it was foolish, dear Jungkook."

"Is that what you tell the Counsel?"

Circe lets out an amused sound, maneuvering around her bushes. "The Counsel can believe what they want, but they hold nothing against me. By law, I am allowed to be here and to be there. I may be a witch, aging like a mere mortal, but I still uphold powers strong enough to burn them alive before they can even think of crossing me."

"I have no doubt," Jungkook smirks. "But by law, is your daughter allowed to be here?"

Circe pauses her watering, hose in hand halting with the water continuously drenching a part of the rose bush as she raises an eyebrow. "Why are you here, Jungkook?"

"I heard she attends Ember Academy now. Enrolled as a full-fledged witch. I've come bearing a gift for her."

"A gift?"

"Call it a welcome back gift," he speaks with an anticipating tone right before he walks over to his horse of where a woven basket was attached to the saddle. Circe remains where she stands, watching him carefully as he walks towards her before she senses something, one that makes her hair stand on her arms. As he nears, Circe peeks into the basket, only to have her jaw drop as she sees that it is a kitten.

A kitten of midnight beauty, sleeping soundly in its basket of blankets.

Circe, who could not help it at all, laughs. Soft laughter rumbles through her throat as she coos at the creature, reaching her hands out to take the basket in her hands. "And your arrival has nothing to do with the fact that today is her birthday?"

"Is that today?" Jungkook ponders aloud as Circe laughs, sneaking a smirk on his face before she strokes a finger on the kitten's head carefully and gently. She can tell that he remembers, and that the years leading up to now, he always have.

Sighing, Circe's smile fades as she looks up at Jungkook, tired eyes and all. "I must tell you, Jungkook."

He raises an eyebrow at her.

"I've grown ill," she begins, retracting her finger from the kitten to hold the basket with two hands. "I have been for awhile now and I can feel my end nearing. I trust to believe that you will protect her."

Jungkook blinks a couple times, the odd construct of having someone who has been around for longer than he has tell him explicitly that their end is inevitable and that it was nearing quite sooner than he expected was worth a double take and a few seconds to digest.

"You may not want to stay tied to her, but I trust you enough to uphold her secret. And to protect her when needed," the kitten purrs meekly in the basket, making Circe glance at it for a mere moment before meeting the concerned eyes of Jungkook with matching knitted eyebrows. "Believe that I am not entrusting you with her life, but that the feeling in your heart of wanting to protect her is inevitable. No matter if the knot remains untied."

He opens his mouth, but the words he could not formulate were taken away quickly by Circe's chuckle, waving him off.

"I know what you'll say," she raises an eyebrow, lips curling and eyes creating crescents. "But if anything happens in the future, must you know you have my blessing."

"Circe," he begins.

"She'll appreciate this kitten," Circe interrupts, smiling at how the kitten inhaled and exhaled, curling in its ball with comfort of the soft fleece blankets. "I'm sure you don't want her to know it came from you, perhaps?"

There is a knowing look that the two share, one of pure guise. "May it be our little secret."

"Among thousands," Circe nods, one in which Jungkook does the same. "Will this be the last time we meet?"

"I would hope not."

"Then I bid you farewell, either for now or forever," Circe smiles, a weak curl of her lips, an evident form that made Jungkook realize that she looked much older than before— the gray hairs, her smile lines and forehead wrinkles. It all reminded Jungkook that she is, in fact, a pure mortal, withering faster than most. It scares him, but it makes him curious as to her motive despite him knowing that she did it out of love.

As he leaves the ebony kitten in Circe's hands to give to her daughter's possession, he departs her property with the lingering thought that maybe— perhaps people really do scary things out of love.