#sorry for being an elitist about things i try my best. but these people are genuinely obnoxious

[ineffable-gallimaufry]

every time we see a swiftie post on our for you page we have to make an annoyed post btw.

[msmargaretmurry]

hi i’m sorry super random question — i love your writing, and i was wondering if you had any fav books to recommend? i’m trying to read more lately!! thank you so much!!! 💖

no apologies necessary and thank you so much!! yay for reading more! i have so many books i love and usually i would try to tailor recommendations to someone's interests so i will just try to give a little smorgasbord here.

under the cut please find a very long list of recs; i hope there are a few that sound appealing to you! if there are things you like to have content warnings for and can't tell from the goodreads listing, feel free to message me to ask! 💕

literary/contemporary fiction

beartown by fredrik backman: this is the hockey novel, imo. somehow backman captures everything hockey is — violence, entitlement, racism, privilege, misogyny — while still writing a breathtaking story about people who love the sport and people who unwillingly get caught up in its wake. there are two sequels, which i haven't read yet solely because i'm afraid of how many feelings they'll make me feel.

the secret history by donna tartt: yes, the og dark academia book. moody, atmospheric, and pretentious, i feel like it's a you-love-it-or-hate-it, and i love it. a delicious critique of elitist academia even while filled with morsels for classics-loving nerds. fantastic, deeply fucked-up characters.

station eleven by emily st john mandell: not sure if reading this during a pandemic was the best idea, but it certainly added something to the experience. i love emily st john mandell's prose, and the post-pandemic-apocalypse world she builds feels simultaneously fantastical and painfully real.

evvie drake starts over by linda holmes: this is the perfect example of what i want in a contemporary romance novel. deeply character-driven, sweet, achy, lovely.

historical fiction

in memoriam by alice winn: oh man oh man. we read this one for book club last month and it blew me away. brutal, devastating, romantic.

how much of these hills is gold by c pam zhang: really loved how this book brought a new lens to the American western/frontier story, loved how it blended Chinese mythology into the story, loved how it unflinchingly did race and gender in ways that felt both illuminating and historically true.

the island of sea women by lisa see: i love lisa see's historical fiction because she does a shitload of research and weaves it into her stories in ways that don't feel like infodumping. on top of her being an excellent writer, i always feel like i've learned something.

the book thief by markus zusak: just a masterclass in point of view. made me ugly cry in public.

the nickel boys by colson whitehead: i mean, colson whitehead is just so good. harrowing, atmospheric, and smart, the characters and story feel absolutely real in the best and worst ways.

fantasy/sci-fi

the radiant emperor duology by shelley parker-chan: man, this duology is one of the best fucking things i've read in the past few years. kind of an alternate-history 14th-century china, now with more magic and more gender. brutal and delicious. morally gray everything.

the farseer trilogy and the liveship traders trilogy by robin hobb: these were my favorite books as a teen and i've recently been rereading them (i'm finally on the third book of the second trilogy!) and having such a good time. structurally they're very classic high fantasy but i think hobb is so fucking good at worldbuilding and characters.

the left hand of darkness by ursula k. leguin: look, it's a classic for a reason! i will say if you start it and you feel kind of lost: stick with it, slow down, and be patient. the pov character is a stranger in a strange land and you feel every bit of that. another masterclass in point of view.

tuyo by rachel neumeier: i love reccing this book because it's just a random self-published fantasy novel that one of the gals in my book club found somehow and it wound up being super fun? the worldbuilding is fun, the culture clash is tense (and fun), and i feel like the concept of a "tuyo" could do numbers as a fanfic trope if people got on board!

the thief by megan whalen turner: another great book for pov!!! just a really fun and satisfying read (and pretty short, if you need something short!). the rest of the series is also very good and worth reading but none of it hit quite as hard for me as this first book, possibly because the first book is just so excellent.

young adult/middle grade

on the come up by angie thomas: this is specifically an audiobook rec. i'm sure this book is also good reading with your eyes, but it's about a teen girl who wants to be a rapper, and i think being able to hear the rhythm of the language, esp the rapping itself, makes for a fantastic audiobook experience.

the westing game by ellen raskin: another classic for a reason!! one of the smartest books out there, a joy to read for the first time at any age.

michigan vs the boys by carrie s. allen: the thing is, i usually i find first person present tense so annoying it's nigh unreadable, but i found this book about a teen girl having to play on her high school's boys' hockey team after they cut funding to the girls' program so charming and compulsively readable. bonus points that the author really knows her hockey!

darius the great is not okay by adib khorram: even just thinking about this book puts a lump in my throat lmao. just a beautiful coming of age story that deals with identity and depression and belonging and family and more.

the loneliest girl in the universe by lauren james: pretty sure i tore through this book in one sitting. great sci-fi setting and sense of creeping dread.

a wrinkle in time by madeleine l'engle: another classic for a reason, lol. including it on this list because it is actually my favorite book. l'engle has such a special touch with writing — it's so full of heart. as a kid one of the things i loved about this book was that it didn't dumb any of its sophisticated worldbuilding and characterization down for me, which i think is a great lesson for a writer.

memoir-ish

they can't kill us until they kills us by hanif abdurraqib: hanif is the GOAT and i recommend anything he's written, but this book of essays about music, culture, and hanif's life is easily my favorite of his work.

a ghost in the throat by doireann ní ghríofa: stunningly original mix of personal essay, poetry, history — i'm not even sure how to describe it. but it floored me.

in the dream house by carmen maria machado: speaking of creeping dread!!! many people have said many smart things about how good this book is so i will simply say they are all extremely correct.

sports nonfiction

the boys in the boat by daniel james brown: a gorgeously written love letter to rowing juxtaposed hauntingly against the rise of hitler. i have not seen the movie, but there's no way it could be as good as the book.

bottom of the 33rd by dan barry: possibly this is a baseball book for baseball people, but i loved every meandering moment of this lovingly written microhistory of the longest baseball game ever played.

the last best league by jim collins: another baseball book, sorry, baseball books are so good. this one's about the amateur league on cape cod where the best college players play in the summer. a great august read imo.

impossible owls: essays by brian phillips: a sprawling book of sportswriting from a former grantland writer. i read it five years ago and still think about it sometimes

other nonfiction

forget the alamo by bryan burrough, chris tomlinson, & jason standford: i made myself pick only ONE history nonfiction for this list because otherwise we'd be here all day. but this one is so good, especially if you're interested in the making and unmaking of american mythology.

empire of pain by patrick radden keefe: i do actually recommend anything prk writes, but this book on the sacklers' evil pharmaceutical empire is both timely and exhaustively reported. another audiobook rec as well, because prk reads it himself and you can hear the disdain in his voice.

because internet: understanding the new rules of language by gretchen mcculloch: really fun read about the development of online dialect and language! at five entire years old it's already a smidge out of date, but still so enjoyable.

[peacesmovingcabaret]

So what do you dislike about lumity from the owl house? It seems to be way better as a romantic subplot than most shows can do. Like there’s no wheel-spinning or dragging it out, they’re in a different place relationship wise in each episode they interact in, until they properly become a couple. No rushing into it and trying to make a dysfunctional garbage couple work, no dragging it out for an obligatory “hero getting the girl” ending.

(Sorry for the late response. This was sitting in my inbox for a bit and I hadn’t seen it)

For starters, I don’t dislike lumity. I’m neutral at best, indifferent at worst.

Though I admit I kinda liked it back in season one. The popular, elitist witch developing a crush on the human girl who mysteriously shows up on the isles was a cute concept.

But by season 2, I was losing interest. Suddenly it feels like Amity’s entire personality was just devoted to being Luz’s girlfriend. Also doesn’t help that almost the entire foundation of their relationship is built on Luz’s hyper fixation with her Azura book. If not for that there would be no relationship.

Then by season 3, I’m over them. Amity has been pretty much reduced to Luz’s love interest. All manner of personality that set her apart in the beginning mostly dissolved. And Lumity was just “queer rep in a kids show”.

And I’m gonna have to disagree with you on that one thing. This is VERY rushed. We get a small amount of build up to Amity’s developing feelings towards Luz, however Luz kinda just jumps into it. We don’t get her inner thoughts, don’t get her questioning her feelings or exploring her attraction. It’s just, “Hey Amity likes me, we should start dating!” And then that’s what happens. I know people hate when writers drag out romances when we already know that they’re gonna end up together. But sometimes it’s okay to give your characters time to grow before making them into a couple.

And it’s not just Lumity, pretty much all the canon romances on this show suffers the same writing problem. Only difference is, Lumity is the main ship so it gets more screen time.

Now obviously there are gonna be people who don’t feel the same way and will disagree with me. That’s fine. I didn’t make this post to tell people that they’re wrong for liking it or that they don’t understand it. I just wanted to get my input.

And honestly, I feel the same way about a majority of romances in a lot of cartoons. So I’m not singling Lumity out.

[ca-suffit]

First of all, thank you so much for your reply. I really needed to hear that I wasn't the only one who found the lack of melanin conspicuous, cuz everytime I saw the post had more notes than the last like I thought I was tweaking.

Second, you're so right about the nature of this fandom's discourse. Most of it's just platitudes. It's all very... It’s all these ostensibly leftist or at least liberal ppl misusing therapyspeak and being downright nasty with no regard for (other) BIPoC fans' feelings (or the themes of the show), trying to cudgel ppl with how "smart" they are and how "dumb" we are.

I think the nasty thing for me is that I love what the show is doing, but then I check on the fandom and it goes ah ah ah negro you don't understand anything at all. Read Chrétien de Troyes' body of work and watch random USAmerican show #47 before you try speaking again.

I'm coming across as confrontational, I think, and I don’t mean to. Let me try again. Food for thought for the well-intentioned:

Are you really engaging with the show's critique of white supremacy if your behaviour in fandom replicates it? Using the white Western literary canon etc as shorthand for your intelligence/the worth or value of your interpretation. Are you actually egaging with the show's critique of cisheteropatriarchy if all those texts were created by and largely for an audience of cishet men? Maybe ppl don't need degrees in literary or gender and queer studies to have worthwhile insights. Maybe condescending to people while being unfamiliar with a whole host of queer Black literature when talking abt a queer Black show is at best... foolish. Maybe it weren’t for all that then watching the show would feel less like stepping on a rake. Okay, sorry, now I'm being petty (and elitist). I'm trying not to make assumptions or broadsweeping statements here.

Like you said it's all in service of not mentioning what even the blind can see. That's not a value judgement, ppl don't usually bury the subject consciously, white or BIPoC, it's our society. But that's why you gotta think and talk about race, because when you don't, you leave it unchallenged and it perpetuates.

Reading that the Utena thing at least didn't start (?) with non-Black fans did make me feel weirdly more positive about it. Anthy and Utena... Hm. Loustat is everywhere to see for the delusional. 🫶🏿

(I keep mentioning in asks that I'm very happy with the show and I hope it doesn't come across as trying to shame/police fans who aren't or sound like I'm gloating - I just wanna contextualise my specific frustrations.)

This felt productive to me.

Thank you so much for this space and especially for your time, I realise what a huge amount of emotional labour this blog must require (and here I come, shoveling more shit onto you 🫤). You've been both very thoughtful and thought-provoking. - 🦁

I'm out of brain energy to give this a better response rn but I've rly appreciated u being here and sharing what u do, and thank u so much for the compliments too. I used to have this account locked down bcuz I only ever saw anon asks and post comments and stuff allowing bullying to happen in more hidden spaces. I never thought the fandom could utilize the same things in order to be more vocal about a lot of stuff. I love that we've all discovered that this can work like this now. there's still shit happening at times but it's become a lot more positive here than it was at the beginning, bcuz ppl *want* to have these conversations.

[sweatertheman]

well, i was gonna write a response to this reblog i got criticizing me for my stance on genocide/snowgrave AUs, but the person deleted their reblog (or maybe just blocked me) so i wasn't able to reblog it. i remember a few highlights though.

you sound like me when i was younger, "why are these aus so bad and don't contribute to the original i'm going to treat this like a serious issue as if it was an extension of canon"

don't tell people their shit is pointless

put your "no fun allowed" sign away and let people have fun

i don't mean to mischaracterize the person who reblogged, they were fairly polite despite being annoyed, these are just the bits that stuck with me from seeing it briefly, i don't have a very good memory.

so, to the person who reblogged me. if you still believe the things you said in that response, and didn't change your mind when you deleted the post, here's the response i typed out:

i feel like i should clarify, i don't want to tell people what they can and can't do. people can do whatever they want. im not an AU guy even when the AUs are good, but hell if i'm gonna stop people from having fun. if anyone takes my post as a "no fun allowed" sign then i'm sorry it came across that way, and i sincerely hope that you don't feel like your hobbies need the approval of others to be valid, because they absolutely do not. your hobbies are valid and your enjoyment is all that should matter. as for the post itself, i dont mean my question rhetorically. i am genuinely curious, so if anyone wants to tell me why they like these AUs, i'd gladly listen! when i go on to talk about what i think is wrong with them, that's not me saying these things are bad and you shouldn't like them. it's me saying i don't see the point, and explaining my view of these sorts of aus. i suppose i have a habit of phrasing my opinions as though they are facts, and that's more of a general issue with me and i apologize. i usually tend to speak like i'm writing an english essay, lol. and as for aus on the whole, maybe i'm wrong to think about it this way, but i feel like at least for me, fan work should build on or contribute to the discussion around the original work. i'm not the kind of guy who likes to play with the source material and characters as though they were toys. i tend to think about things kind of rigidly, and view the source material as almost like a machine, with every given piece doing some kind of job to make the work function. when i create fanworks, i'm trying to understand and build onto that machine, to improve or expand its functioning. the problem, though, is that being such a rigid thinker, i tend to think that my way is the "right way." while i don't think other people are dumb or bad for doing it their own way, i can be a bit of an elitist in thinking that everyone should be doing it my way. i don't want to ruin anyone's fun though, i am aware that this line of thinking is wrong and i'm doing my best to see things other people's ways. all this to say, i'm sorry if my post came off as an attack on aus or people who enjoy them. all i meant by it was that i don't see the point of some aus and why i find them counterintuitive to the things i personally value in fanworks. thank you for being patient with me.

[aheadsplitintwo]

Don't worry about that guy who (at least basically) called you fake, regarding that other source they shared with you. While I'm not sure what exactly could have prompted someone to say that about you, people who do that kind of thing often are elitist snobs, if not, they have...just really bad takes on this stuff at least.

Like seriously, apparently who / what you were and what you do "isn't real" or whatever nonsense they'd say, but their stuff is??? Whoever it was needs to realize they can't pick and choose there.

It's probably over something marginal too, such small differences or alternate interpretations shouldn't lead to you being excluded just because it's not like how it was for them or whatever petty reason it is.

Don't let what that person said dominate your thoughts on your source or kinning in general. Not with Sonic, and especially not with that other source. You are you, you are who you say you are, and it was real, as real as anyone else.

signed, well you'll just have to guess who this is (I will say a mobian).

GOODNESS SORRY IM JUST NOW SEEING THIS, thanks for the encouraging words buddy

I’ve done my best to make amends with that person but I can’t say the words they said don’t still hurt me

That person who doubted my Kin was actually a brother in my source (not sonic one) so it was a sucker punch to my heart

(Made me feel physically sick for a bit)

They prefer the term “irls” and says you need to have medically confirmed- I’m not sure the term- it felt like he was sorry “your not delusional enough”

It’s really put a sour taste in my mouth when it comes to the term “irls” cause Kin has been here for a long time and “kin” doesn’t always apply to just characters from media

(I’m fine with anyone who uses the term it just makes me worried they’ll use their “status” to police others lives)

I’ve done my best to let go and I’m trying not to let that get me down.. I don’t talk much in my kin blogs but I assured myself is that I don’t technically NEED them

I’m sonic, I’m me and no one can take that away

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 38

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ word count: 17.1k (._.) ➻ rating: m ➻ warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba chapter specific warnings: blood, fighting, violence, weapons, choking (not the sexy kind sorry), self-inflicted injury, some psychological torture, graphic depictions of death, drowning but not really? someone being held underwater, implied suicide (but no graphic depiction) ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧ act five ➻ part five

​ ​ ​ ​

Stepping onto the bridge with Wooyoung in tow is an experience to say the very least. Mostly because it is eerily quiet when you arrive, so startlingly empty that you pause the second you step into the room. Hongjoong sits still as a statue in his usual place even though he has truly no need to be in the captain’s chair since you aren’t going anywhere quite yet. The only movements he makes are to cross one leg over the other back and forth every few seconds like he can’t stay put for too long. Other than that, he makes no effort to acknowledge your presence at the edge of the bridge, which would be expected if not for the crucial nature of your mission.

The effects of Soojin’s little concoction are still weighing heavily on your muscles and bones, but you are at least able to keep your eyes open now. Jongho refuses to let go of your waist, and you might complain if you didn’t think you would crumble to a useless heap on the floor once he let you go. You don’t trust your muscles to cooperate that much.

“I see you’re bringing good news,” Hongjoong states as you draw closer to where he’s seated. One quick glance at the observation window tells you he’s carefully watching your every move, including the pair behind you that consists of Yeosang and Wooyoung.

“Aye, Captain,” Jongho says through a smile. Hongjoong finally shifts to look your way, eyes hesitating on your slumped form for a moment before moving to where Wooyoung stands.

“Glad to see you back on board, Wooyoung.” His tone won’t commit to showing how he truly feels, but there is a certain light in Hongjoong’s eyes that he cannot hide, and you find relief in his features as he looks over Wooyoung. It’s brief and temporary, but the obvious warmth that his countenance holds as he and Wooyoung make eye contact is enough to show you how heavily this has been weighing on the young captain as well.

“Glad to be back, Captain,” Wooyoung answers in haste. You can hear the smile in his voice even if you cannot see it.

“Were there any issues with the mission?”

“No, just… a small hiccup.” Jongho glances down at you, and the slight shift has Hongjoong redirecting his focus to you as well. You steel yourself for some sort of lecture, a backhanded comment about staying focused on the task at hand, or maybe even just a comment about you being a weak link. Hongjoong’s gaze never hardens though. Instead, he offers a small nod then —

“I see. Be sure to check in with Yunho in that case.”

Something else nags at the edge of your thoughts then, mostly due to the absence of one certain person on the bridge at the moment.

“Where is Jisung?”

Hands squeezing hard around your throat, shoving you under bloody waters.

Cold, cold, cold. Red in your vision, hands on your throat, and everything is cold.

“In the brig. We — I decided it would be best to keep him there until the situation changes.” Hongjoong’s answer is spoken through a stiff and uncomfortable tone, and you expect that he was met with some resistance when it came to such a decision. But of course, that begs another question about the other person who is not on the bridge or by Hongjoong’s side like he typically would be.

“And Seonghwa?”

“Also in the brig.” Hongjoong presses his lips together, and he shifts to glare holes into the floor. The shift in his demeanor is slight but unsettling nonetheless, especially as he forces a tight grin onto his lips a second later. “Wooyoung, after you’ve settled and taken some time to recover, I’d like to chat. I won’t ask anything too invasive, but I need to know a little bit about the places you were held and where San and Mingi could possibly be. And Yeosang, a mission debriefing is needed as well.”

“We can talk now, Captain. I’ve got some news that should be helpful anyway!” Wooyoung steps around you to talk more directly to Hongjoong, Yeosang lingering at his side the whole time, and you pull back to give them more space. “I’ll go see our dear doctor after we chat. He’ll talk my ear off anyway.”

“Do you need to see Yunho?” Jongho asks, stepping back with you.

“No, no, I’ll be fine. Right now I… I think I just need to see Jisung,” you murmur. How are you going to stomach looking at him without thinking of his hands around your throat and trying to kill you?

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

“If he’s in the brig being watched by Seonghwa, how much damage can he do?”

Jongho falls silent at that, mostly because your point holds strong, but he still stays by your side during the walk down there. And arguably yes it is your first time heading down to that part of the ship; the only times you’ve wandered in that vague direction are when you went to the cargo bay with Jongho. There is a different kind of tension in your muscles now though, one that feels much more like walking to your inevitable doom than anything else. That feeling intensifies with each step closer to the small hatch leading down to the brig, a ladder with metal rungs taking you to a place you aren’t sure you want to be. A quick glance over your shoulder shows you a minor portion of the brig, only enough to see three cells lined up on the left then a sharp corner that no doubt leads to more cells in a narrow hallway. Typical of a ship of this caliber. They aren’t built to house prisoners, and any slave trades made with such a vessel would only carry that precious cargo in the cargo hold. They would only need roughly twenty of these cells — five by five squares with just enough space for the average person to stand up comfortably but nothing more than that.

Yet when your feet hit the cold paneled floor and echo a hollow noise, your gaze falls upon Jisung and only Jisung. He is safely tucked away in the middle cell, walls of bars surrounding him and separating your body from his, but that’s hardly noticeable compared to Seonghwa’s absence near his cell. Hongjoong had claimed that Seonghwa was down here with Jisung, and the initial lack of his presence immediately sends your brain into danger mode.

“What did you do with Seonghwa?” You inquire without hesitation, leveling the man you used to admire so fucking much with a glare full of heat you didn’t even know you were capable of. Jisung laughs from the spot where he is curled up on the floor. He has his back pressed to the only solid wall in the cell, knees pulled up to his chest and elbows draped overtop them so that his hands hang loosely down in the space before him. The huff of air that passes through his lips almost sounds like a laugh. It does nothing to quell your nerves — if anything it makes your anxiety spike a bit higher, causing Jongho to lay a hand down on the small of your back in attempts to calm you some no doubt.

“Shouldn’t you be asking your dearest captain that?” Comes Jisung’s scathing reply, complete with a sneer and curled lip. The disdain in his tone isn’t hard to miss at all. His chin tilts. Eyes blaze with some fury. Then he presses his tongue against his bottom lip and forces the skin there to stretch under the pressure. “To think you escaped my cruel clutches just to fall into the filthy hands of a scourge who doesn’t care about anyone but himself. A beautiful irony, don’t you think?”

You don’t give him the pleasure of hearing any response from you.

“Don’t worry, doll. You’ll be safe in my hands soon enough,” he says, tone almost bordering on teasing rather than being serious with the threat. “What’s it? Got one back, no? Not the one you care about though, am I right?” Jisung brings his head forward again, staring down the line of empty cells before him like he’s taunting something nonexistent there. “Poor, poor lieutenant. Denied by both the people he loves. How much bending can an Elitist take until he breaks? I’ve always wondered that… never did get to see Hyunwoo snap after all. Perhaps now I’ll get to witness it with my own two eyes.”

“Don’t speak on things you know nothing about.”

That stops you dead in your tracks, your whole body lurching as you are midway to stepping closer to Jisung’s cell. The words don’t come from your lips, nor do they come from Jongho’s, but the tiny voice in the back of your head tells you that no one snuck down behind you and Jongho. And that Jisung’s staring isn’t coincidental or meaningless at all. A cruel smile curls the corners of his mouth. He prods at one side with the tip of his tongue and releases a laugh that is more hollow than anything else.

You force your legs into action and push yourself forward, although this time you don’t head for Jisung’s cell like you originally intended to do. Instead, you round the sharp corner leading to the remaining cells in the brig with bated breath and a growing sense of dread in your gut.

As it turns out, that dread is not misplaced in the slightest.

Because the moment you stare down the row of metal cages perpendicular to Jisung’s own holding cell, your gaze falls on something heart-wrenching and horrid to see. And Jongho might be confused — a bit beyond merely confused, you’ll admit — but you? You recognize this to be the cruel picture your mind conjured up the day Hongjoong told you that you would be going on the rescue mission for Wooyoung.

“I don’t know how much or what exactly you saw in Seonghwa’s memories. I do not need to know either. But something you need to know is that we have been back to Lynder exactly once since I met Seonghwa there. And that one single time, two years ago, we had to lock Seonghwa in the brig for six days straight to keep him from breaking out to kill his mother. Seonghwa tore cuts into his arms and shoulders so deep that Yunho had to come to stitch him every night until we finally chained him to a wall to get him to stop. When he finally gave up on trying to break out, I went in and took the cuffs off, only for Seonghwa to choke me hard enough to fracture my neck and leave bruises that lasted for several weeks.”

It’s Seonghwa who sits far in the back of the brig, curled in on himself in the very last cell in the block with what feels like leagues stretching between you and where he is. Chains cuffing his wrists together and a shackle hanging so heavy on his neck that he can barely lift his head. You’ve never seen a man look so small and insignificant in your life; the knowledge and realization that it’s none other than Seonghwa under those chains burn so deep in your chest that you forget how to breathe properly until Jongho shatters the weighty silence by joining you in front of the row of cells.

“Lieutenant?”

“The mission, Jongho. Did you recover him?”

How dare Seonghwa look so gentle and confident even while being chained and held in the brig of his own ship?

“I — yes, Lieutenant, we recovered him but — but you—”

“Good,” Seonghwa interjects. He gives a heavy nod that makes the iron hanging from his neck rattle. “Then there is no reason for you to be down here currently. I’m sure our captain would have much better use for you now than I do.” Seonghwa’s dark eyes remain fixated on you as he speaks, but you’re too far away to even try to discern the emotion concealed in them.

Jongho turns back to the ladder leading out of the cellblock. He doesn’t put up a fight or argue about the matter; merely looks the other way and follows the order like nothing is possibly wrong with the scene unfolding before him.

You, on the other hand, hardly consider yourself the kind of person who gives in so easily.

Thus, against better judgment no doubt, you step around the wall of cells separating you and Seonghwa, then take the steely walk over to that far corner of the brig.

And against better judgment, with Hongjoong’s words of warning ringing in your ears of how dangerous Seonghwa was the last time he was in such a position, you get as close to the cell as humanly possible. You curl your fingers around the bars as you sink to your knees in front of him, eyes unable to find a comfortable resting place anywhere on his body and instead finding purchase on the sliver of the floor still exposed under his knees. He, like Jisung, has his back pressed to the cage, bars digging harshly into his typical billowing black coat. He can’t extend his legs all the way in the cell and is thus forced to keep his knees bent at an awkward angle that will surely hurt after some time has passed. Hands are held together by that short chain and stretched as far as possible over his knees. You would never go so far as to say Seonghwa could ever look pitiful, but this brings you pretty damn close.

“I do not wish for you to see me in this position, Y/N,” Seonghwa whispers without looking over at you. He maintains the same honed stare on Jisung, and now that you’re closer to him you can see that flames of anger that lick at his dark eyes. Despite his words, you can’t bring yourself to move. The weight of your bones suddenly feels heavier than ever and even if you wanted to get up and leave, you don’t think you could. “It was shameful enough to ask Hongjoong to put me here.”

“You… you asked him to do this?” You inquire through a whisper of your own.

“He didn’t want to, of course, but—” Seonghwa cuts himself short and you watch his chest heave as he inhales sharply “—I’m ashamed to admit that I know how to get what I want from him. And thus… I made him put me here.”

“Seonghwa, I — you — why?” If only eloquence could be your strong suit.

“I cannot trust myself. I am not needed for these missions. I am a liability. Anything I do must be under careful watch and instruction, otherwise, I could risk the safety of the crew and the success of our missions.” Seonghwa swallows around nothing and drops his chin to his chest. His mop of black hair falls forward to cover his eyes. You hadn’t realized how long it had gotten in recent days as he pressed it back constantly, but now you can see how the ends caress his eyelashes and near the bottom of his temples. “I pose more of a threat than anything else in this state.”

“Says who?” You insist, pressing your face so far forward that your cheek squishes against the bars. Seonghwa seems startled by your sudden fervor. His eyes go wide and dart over to your face, but they linger for only a second before turning back to his lap. “Was it Jisung? Did he say something? Before he was locked up? Or maybe after? He’s — Seonghwa, you can’t believe anything he says. He wants to cause discord and issues in the crew, he wants trouble because he’s an enemy.”

“He has nothing to do with this, Y/N. Absolutely nothing.” The skin around his eyes crinkles as he squeezes his eyes shut, almost as though he’s in pain. “Please leave. I do not trust myself in this state, and if I hurt you on top of — on top of what I’ve already done, Y/N, please. I won’t forgive myself if I ever lay a harmful hand on you even in the slightest.”

“What did you do? No, what happened while we were gone?”

The chains around Seonghwa’s wrist rattle so suddenly that it startles you, and his abrupt movements send you back from the cage in a rush without thinking twice. You merely acted out of self-preservation and instinct, and yet —

And yet the damage is already done.

Your eyes dart up to look into Seonghwa’s. He looks more lost and confused than anything else, like a child who can’t find his way home. From the way his lip trembles to the wobble in his gaze and how his hands clench and unclench as though in an unknown ceremony of their own. The man seems — is harmless.

“Go, Y/N, before I truly hurt you.”

This time, you don’t fight him on the matter. You force your legs into action and push yourself up from the floor where you just unceremoniously sprawled in an effort to get away from Seonghwa’s cell. The walk away from him hurts something awful in your chest, like each step you take to get away from him causes a new piece of your heart to break off, but still, you walk until you reach the end of the hauntingly short hall. You can’t keep yourself from staring down that corridor to look at Seonghwa’s crumpled form one more time.

In that moment that couldn’t have lasted more than half a second, you believed that Seonghwa would hurt you, and he believed the same. It only took that much time for the line of trust you thought could be unbreakable to shatter and give out under you. Was it not only recently that you told him you were willing to place your heart in his hands and trust him with it?

“Are you content with yourself yet, Spectre?” Seonghwa’s voice rings clear in the room, echoing off the metal walls with more venom than before. You don’t think that venom is directed at anyone other than himself right now.

“Not even in the slightest, Lieutenant,” Jisung laughs in response. You don’t intend to make eye contact with him, but it happens nonetheless and once it does, you are transfixed on each of his movements. He drags his tongue over his lips before tucking it between his teeth and biting down hard on the tip. “I know plenty about making people break. And I can guarantee that by the time your dearest captain loses his will and decides to let you out, I will have broken you in ways you fear to even imagine. Let’s see how well you can play my game, Lieutenant of Death.”

The urge to reach a hand between the bars and strangle Jisung where he sits is so overwhelming that you see red. Somehow you find it in you to turn away, using some shred of reason and logic because you know you need Jisung as much as you wish you didn’t — until San and Mingi are safely back on the ship, you cannot risk killing him.

And to your surprise, Jongho is not waiting outside the hatch when you surface in the corridor again. It falls shut with a loud bang, trapping Jisung and Seonghwa both in their little prison once more.

The pressure around your head is mounting and becoming hard to ignore, even through the lingering effects of Soojin’s concoction. It seems the drowsiness wishes to win out, however, seeing as you pull yourself to your bedroom without much thought and more like it’s some form of muscle memory instead. Between all the things happening around you at the moment, it’s hard to pinpoint just one thing and focus on it.

San is still missing.

Seonghwa locked himself in the brig.

Han Jisung is terrorizing you and your crew out of some odd desire to claim you.

Mingi is still missing as well and at risk of being reprogrammed back into the Brute of Kebos.

Wooyoung, in the very least, is safely back but no doubt suffered new and awful traumas that he’ll have to deal with in the coming months.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa fought for what feels like the hundredth time.

You found Soojin in a brothel then promptly got confirmation that your memories were indeed wiped a second time without you knowing. Delightful, truly.

All that swirling back to the mounting headache that pierces the left side of your head so hard you see little flashes in your vision. And despite the need to most likely think through things, weigh your options, try to do something other than just sitting around and waiting for someone else to plan, you merely curl up under your sheets in the darkness after wiping away your leftover black lipstick and changing into some more comfortable clothes.

Alone again. It’s odd how you went from being on your own almost constantly for three years to now being so dependent on having someone by your side. Maybe it was the knowledge that you had no one back then that kept you sane. Now, however, you know there are people around you, close to you, people you would almost dare to say you can rely on for safety and trust. An image of Jisung’s cruel smile flickers in your mind before you close your eyes to sleep.

Trust got you nowhere before.

Would it be foolish to make the same mistakes again?

…

There’s a cold hand wrapped tight around your own, but even as you look down at it you can’t figure out who it belongs to. Another hand is folded over your eyes, blocking every ounce of your vision and leaving you shrouded in darkness. You have no idea where you are or where you are heading, and though your first instinct is to fight, you feel somewhat safe under the hand that holds yours.

“Kan han ceso, Umiko. Nu an nadu. Un cu nu, Umiko, un nukon.” The words grate against your ears, a soft-spoken voice whispering the foreign language to you through the darkness, and you blink hard against the hand covering your eyes.

“I-I don’t know what you’re saying,” you whisper back, only to be answered with more confusion and unknown words.

“Nadu, nadu. Sosun hen.”

The hand around your head slips away only to shove hard at your back. You don’t have time to turn to face your companion before a door is slammed shut on your back. You whip around to face the wall of metal, seeing nothing beyond the dark.

“Wait! Don’t — don’t leave me here!”

“Kidehon u Nurun, Umiko.”

Despite not knowing what any of the words mean, a chill rushes down your spine and leaves goosebumps all across your skin. Then a shrill scream tears you away from the door and back to the reality swirling together behind you. It’s moreso the contents of the scream that catch your attention because through the sudden swarm of yells and shouts, you catch one recognizable word.

“Yeosang!”

It’s like a veil is torn away from your eyes and you can suddenly see the world around you with so much clarity and brightness it hurts. And the first thing your gaze lands on is the sight of Wooyoung being dragged by the waist back into what seems to be a spitting image of the House of Lilies. His captors are hooded figures, unimportant and insignificant compared to Wooyoung who flails around desperately in their arms to get out. And across from him, running and running but never once catching up because a massive crowd of people blocks his path, is none other than Yeosang. You push your way forward as well in attempts to reach the Elitist. Each step is harder than the last with the way faceless figures shove your shoulders and force you back until his blond head of hair is out of sight. You can’t see Wooyoung’s face any longer either; all you can hear are a few distant shouts and screams that are unintelligible by now.

You have no choice but to let the crowd guide you to an unknown destination, shifting to follow their hasty steps before you get trampled to the ground. They’re too tall for you to see past their shoulders, all shrouded in black coats and suits with masks covering their faces as well, and you are only left with confusion the more you try to get a closer look at them. That confusion lingers for a while, and as you walk, the shouts and yells around you morph into cheering. It’s deafening, growing louder with each second, but the hoards simply continue into what seems to be the source of the sounds.

Once you finally reach that destination, your heart drops through your stomach because it’s tall colosseum walls that rise up around you. They are painfully recognizable, and you can almost guess what you’re about to witness given what you just saw transpire with Wooyoung and Yeosang.

The confirmation, albeit unneeded, hurts worse than you thought. As the crowd ushers you into the arena, you stumble up familiar stairs and come to a halt at the railing looking over the heart of the colosseum.

Mingi stands at the center of it all, donned in leather and copper armor like a gladiator of olden times that have long since become mere myths for children’s stories. Red streaks down his cheeks and covers him in a bloody glow under the sun. You watch him as though in a daze. Each movement he makes is like a dance between the way he swings a longsword in one hand and an ax in the other. The beauty of Mingi’s swings dissipates into a cloud of panic and horror when his opponent comes into sight across from his tall form.

“Jongho, Jongho, no!” You scream through the din ringing into your ears. A hand stretched down to the pit below in vain because there is no way for you to even attempt reaching them.

There’s a flash of red again, this time one that reaches across Mingi’s blade and spreads onto the sand below their feet. You clasp a hand over your mouth to silence the blood-curdling scream that tears through your lips.

“It’s not real, Y/N, it’s not real,” you murmur to yourself, not daring to look back down even as the cheers continue to swell around you. “It’s just a dream, you need to wake up. It’s not real.”

The most obvious clue that this is not real is the fact that you see Jongho — another Jongho — stepping out of the gates into the arena just seconds after Mingi cut him down. The body hasn’t even dissipated into thin air; it still sits at Mingi’s feet, a lifeless corpse that will continue to haunt you for god knows how long. The second Jongho comes forward to replace the last, standing completely still before Mingi like he’s nothing more than a training dummy for Mingi to kill over and over.

That is exactly what you are forced to witness too because the tall figures surrounding you refuse to let you budge or turn. All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut each time Mingi lifts his arm. This hell is almost worst than the last. Seeing Yeosang and Wooyoung being torn apart burned deep in your chest but this?

Mingi killing the person who cares about him perhaps more than anyone else? Like it’s only a game or a sport to be played for entertainment?

That leaves a different pain in your chest. One that cuts deep and tries to sever your heart from your body.

You lose count of the bodies down in the area, and counting them would only hurt more so it’s a foolish plight to even imagine right now. Your limit comes soon enough, however, and in a fit of desperation, you shove so hard at the figures behind you that they topple over like dominos.

The mantra of reminders of how this isn’t real still runs on repeat in your head, but even forcing your way out of the crowds grants you no reprieve.

You can still hear the cheering, the way the crowd shouts for more blood then delights in another kill. And now that you know it’s Jongho being cut down by none other than Mingi, it makes matters much worse. You don’t make it three steps out of the arena before you’re stumbling to the ground on your hands and knees. A dry heave wracks your form, forcing up nothing but air. The contents of your stomach are nonexistent in this hellscape yet your body continues to convulse until bile drips from your lips.

“Please make it stop, make it stop, please, please, please,” you beg to the sand under your form.

“Y/N?”

Normally the voice would fill you with a sense of relief, but given what you’ve seen thus far, it only fills you with incredible dread.

You lift your chin to look Yunho in the eye nonetheless. He stands several feet away from you, unmoving and nearly statuesque with his pose. That peace lasts all of four seconds. He chokes out a cough. It sounds far too thick and wet for it to be merely a normal cough. Your fears turn to reality when blood coats his bottom lip after the next cough.

“Y-Yunho, no, n-no, not you too, please.”

Another cough and Yunho is on his knees like you are.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I… I wasn’t good enough to keep this from happening.”

“No, no, no, p-please, no, Yun—”

“This was the only thing I could get right.”

Your chin drops to your chest.

“You’ll be okay, won’t you? Our little Ghost…”

“No more. Please, Daichi, if this is your doing, then end it! End it please, please stop this!”

The response to your pleas is a hand clasping hard at the back of your neck. It shoves you to the ground with little effort until you are sprawled out on your stomach. You release a weak cry into the dirt, thrashing hard under the stranger’s grip. Another hand closes around your ankle. You aren’t given any time to prepare as it yanks you forward, dragging your body over the scratchy ground. You can feel your skin splitting under the impact yet as much as you twist to get out of it, the best you can do is flip onto your back and let the abuse continue there. Your new position allows you to at least see your attacker, a tall and lanky figure with sweeping black hair. You can barely see the outline of her face, but she looks strikingly familiar, like a person you’ve seen once in your dreams. It isn’t until you have been pulled all the way to a new destination that you realize exactly who she is.

“Mother.”

Seonghwa stands in the center of this barely lit room you’ve been dragged into, gun in hand and shrouded in a black cloak.

This is Seonghwa’s mother. Of course it is. This nightmare is not only yours but both Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s as well, the thing that has been so glaringly present for a while now. And in your inability to stop thinking about it, it has landed you here to live out this unending nightmare.

Seonghwa lifts the gun to aim it at his mother’s skull. He doesn’t spare you even the slightest glance, so dead-set on this mission that nothing else exists in his mind. You don’t have time to react before the gun goes off and echoes through the room. You scramble back on shaky legs when the woman in front of you crumples to the ground. Scarlet ebbs from her skull in mere seconds.

You think that’s it — hope would be a better word actually. You wish for the nightmare to end here with Seonghwa killing his mother, but it gets worse as Seonghwa turns the gun to his own skull and places the barrel against his temple. Despite already knowing that nothing you do in this dream will make it stop, you rush forward practically like an animal to stop him.

Something — or someone, rather — beats you to it.

A force hits you so hard that you are sent sprawling to the floor again, landing somewhere near Seonghwa’s mother, and upon looking up to see your sudden attacker, you find Hongjoong standing before Seonghwa instead. He’s in the middle of trying to wrestle the gun from Seonghwa’s hand, aiming it high at the ceiling before Seonghwa can hurt himself.

“Stop it, Seonghwa, I won’t let you do this!”

“Let me die, damn it, you were supposed to keep me from doing this!”

All you can do is watch as the fight unfolds before you with a growing sense of horror because you know where this is going to end. It will end the same way it has for everyone else in this nightmare. The thought of watching Seonghwa die and not being able to do anything to stop it is almost too much of a burden to bear.

If that was the worst scenario your mind could come up with, what actually happens minutes later is far far worse. You don’t see where it comes from but you don’t need to either; all you see is Seonghwa barreling into Hongjoong’s smaller form with all his strength until both are them are pressed to the nearest wall. The silence that overtakes the room is deafening. You don’t realize that there is anything wrong until you see hear the soft pitter-patter of blood dropping to the ground.

There’s a pointed metal spike sticking out of Seonghwa’s back, dripping blood from not only Seonghwa’s body but also Hongjoong’s.

“I’m sorry, my beloved.”

In a cruel twist of fate, you see the metal joining their bodies together, watch the way their chests rise and fall in shaky patterns that show their diminishing strengths. Hongjoong’s chin is the first to fall, dipping down to his chest as his eyes fight to stay open. Seonghwa is crying — no, sobbing with all the effort he can muster and pressing his lips to the edge of Hongjoong’s hairline through muttered apologies.

You know your limits, and you know you are not nearly strong enough to witness them die like this, even if it’s together and at Seonghwa’s own hand.

Thus, you push yourself up onto shaky legs and stumble out of the dark room as best you can with Seonghwa’s shaky cries ringing so loud in your ears that you fear you will never escape it for a second. There is a lingering sense of dread curling in your gut at the moment, however, because you have witnesses horrors happening to every single one of the crew except for one. And arguably, it is the one you fear the most, the one you wish to avoid the most, yet every attempt to force yourself awake before you can come across him fails miserably. The next room you stumble into is another familiar one, much like the distant memories you have of being strapped to a cold metal chair, but in this room, the chair is occupied by a man with jet black hair and a tuft of white at the front. You can’t manage more than a pained whimper as you step close to the chair.

Rounding the metal brings you face to face with him, although his eyes are shut as though he is asleep. For a fraction of a second, you think the worst has happened and throw your hands down on his chest to lean over San’s reclining body. He jolts at the contact, a sharp gasp tearing through his dry and cracked lips when he comes back to the land of the living.

“San, oh S-San, it’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, you’re safe, I promise,” you babble like a woman possessed. Your hands come up to cradle his face and brush a few long strands of hair away from his eyes. It takes too long for him to fully come to his senses, eyes blinking against the harsh light that filters down from the ceiling, and you wait with bated breath for him to say something as he registers your face. “Hi.” You’re too lost in the moment to remember this is a nightmare, too enamored with the mere sight of San’s face. When the reverie is torn away from you, it hurts worse than you could ever have imagined it would.

“H-How do you know my name? Who are you?”

Your chest tightens to the point where it hurts to breathe.

“It’s Y/N, San, don’t you remember me?”

“I don’t know who you are,” he whispers back, pulling his face away from your hands as best he can in his current position. You withdraw your hands as though burned and fall back onto your ass so hard you bounce a little. It should hurt, but the pain in your chest outweighs that by far. San sits up and slings a leg over the side of the chair, the other following shortly after. He steps down off the metal to come closer to you. His head is tilted in question, and his eyes search your face like he’s attempting to recognize you.

You hardly realize what’s happening before he’s bending over you and latching his hands around your neck. When he shoves you down to the ground, you aren’t met with the cold floor but rather a splash of water. It’s murky and an almost copper shade, like someone has doused you in blood and water. San’s grip on your neck tightens until you’re forced to choke up a few air bubbles.

“Did you think you were someone worthy of remembering?” San speaks to you through the water, voice coming to your ears in a muted tone. His features fall into a blur, and he squeezes at your skin so hard you see spots dance across your vision. You cry out in the water even though you know it won’t do you any good. “Did you think you earned that right? What use are you to me? Someone who couldn’t even do the bare minimum and protect me when I needed it… useless.”

San huffs out a loud laugh that echoes around you.

“You are completely and utterly useless to me.”

Sleep might have come easy to you but it does not claim you for long. Rarely are you ever awoken by nightmares; your body tends to just continue on with sleeping until the morning, but tonight is one of those oddities where the nightmares wake you up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. With the end of dream San’s cruel monologue, you startle awake, gasping for breath like you had been holding it the entire time you were asleep. A quick glance at the clock on your bedside table shows that it’s nearing one o’clock in the morning, so you were hardly asleep more than four hours.

You almost wish that Jongho stayed by your side through the night, if only to provide the comfort you want so desperately from someone who isn’t here. It wasn’t even an offer he posed or one that you asked for, but you find yourself wondering if it would have been better to seek out that comfort. And maybe it’s selfish of you to crave that peace that Jongho claims to have brought him for so long, but the appeal of not waking up alone is too tempting. Being able to have that with Seonghwa — the ability to go to bed at night and wake up in the morning with the knowledge that someone was there if anything went wrong — is something you took for granted. On nights like these, it’s all you could ever ask for. And while you and Seonghwa made the mutual decision to sever the more intimates parts of your relationship, it’s become glaringly obvious to you that you don’t have anyone to rely on for physical comfort anymore, even just the smallest action of holding a hand or sleeping beside you. Did you dream of him? Jongho might ask, hand outstretched to offer some sort of relief from the anxiety tugging at your heart. Either that or to try to take it away as best he can.

Yes, and it was wretchedly awful and horrible, you think. Something wet slips down the side of your temples before you can stop it. I feel I might lose my mind if I cannot bring him back safely soon.

Why, why, why did this happen?

Surely you’ve been through worse in the past, but this feels so much more potent than those times, either because those memories are tucked away or because you’ve never felt this strongly about needing to protect someone before.

You roll onto your side and let the stray tears slide across the bridge of your nose now.

Staring at the bed does absolutely nothing (even though you knew it wouldn’t); neither does reaching out to put a hand over the cold sheets there.

These days you keep finding your mind slipping back to the memories of Echidna. They’ve become so much more vivid since the entire kidnapping situation, yet oddly enough you cannot bring yourself to recall the actual torture you and San suffered together at the hands of Cara. Rather, you keep coming back to a monotone hotel room with a creaky bed and fluffed pillows.

“I won’t leave this time,” you mutter. You can feel heat radiating from San’s cheeks even though you can’t see the flush to his skin.

“I’ll hold you all night to make sure you don’t,” San whispers back. Hot breath fans over your lips. You aren’t sure what comes over you but you lift the hand resting against San’s chest to trace over the outline of his lips with two fingers. He smiles into the touch.

It brings a startling realization to your bones when you find yourself reaching out to the nothingness before you like he will be there because how could he be gone, why is he gone, he isn’t supposed to be gone.

“I’m scared to let you in,” you admit, bring your gaze back up to San’s eyes. He’s looking back at you with a gentleness in his eyes that catches you off-guard.

“You don’t have to let me in yet. Just try to trust me.”

“Okay… okay. I can do that.”

“Then that’s more than enough.”

You should have never let go of the hand he outstretched towards you. It’s a hefty realization, one that weighs down on your body so much you struggle to breathe because you would do anything to have him back. And perhaps you didn’t appreciate him enough while you had him, perhaps you took that time where he was safe for granted and didn’t think it could happen again. Because even though you had told Yunho back around the time of the incident that you would never be able to look at him without worrying something bad would happen once more, you let your guard down and believed him to be entirely safe.

A huff of air passes through your lips, then you sit up in bed to throw your legs over the side of the mattress. Your gaze lingers on the bedside table for a moment, only to recall what’s been hidden inside there since you returned from Echidna. You haven’t forgotten about the pardon papers per se; your mind has understandably been elsewhere and things took a turn during that mission with San. Before then you were so dead set on leaving without a word.

It wasn’t Hongjoong who convinced you to stay back then even though you left you with several pretty threats and propositions.

It wasn’t Seonghwa with his comforting words and touches that burned your skin.

Nor was it any other member of the crew outside of San. It was always Choi San, the Spectre with a cat-like grin and pretty eyes, and he wormed his way into your heart with such little effort that it still scares you quite a bit. If you had absolute certainty that what you remember from your time in the military was true and real, you might say that the only time you felt this way towards another person was with Jisung, but you doubt that now with recent revelations.

How much easier would life be if you could simply roll back into bed and find San there waiting at your side, all warm smiles and gentle gazes as he urges you to sleep once more?

Unfortunately for you, life is far from easy and that is not an option, so you do the only other logical thing that comes to mind and that is to stand up and leave your bedroom without looking back at that cursed bedside table. If you can’t have San or anyone else to calm you down at the moment, perhaps a short walk around the ship will do you some good.

It is that very thought that lands you on the bridge and in front of the observation window. Despite the late hour, some workers are milling about in the hangar bay Hongjoong has landed you all in, doing their duties without cease. Some are cleaning and sweeping at the floor even though it looks spotless to you, others are polishing other ships in the bay, and you’re sure that if you could see near the bottom of The Horizon, you would find them doing the same there. There are a few others who don’t quite look like the workers do — perhaps people from the other ships — who sit on boxes and offer each other seemingly menial chatter based on the way their gestures remain casual. They seem so calm and at peace compared to what you have been experiencing with this crew where trouble seems to be around every corner and you can’t get a breath of peace for more than a day.

Briefly, you picture yourself in their shoes one day. It’s something you can only wonder about because you aren’t sure whether that’s even a possibility for you, but the image of sitting on one of those boxes with Jongho sitting on one side and Wooyoung on the other floats to mind. And maybe Yeosang would be wedged between Wooyoung’s legs with hands held tightly together like even a breath of air could separate them. You imagine Mingi would be lingering near Jongho rather than anywhere else, draped over the other Berserker and pressed as close to him as possible because it grounds him and keeps him in one piece for the time being. Yunho would probably be doing something like reading a medical article or book and muttering to himself about the contents of the writing, nearby but never too far from the rest of you. In that daydream, Hongjoong and Seonghwa would come around the corner of the ship side by side, and the captain would have a hand pressed to the small of his lieutenant’s back because he can’t bear to be any further than that. Then San — darling San — would rush around them with a smile on his lips and dimples flashing to barrel straight into your chest with a resounding laugh. You dare to let yourself imagine the peace and serenity of the scene, dare to picture San pressing his forehead to yours as he exhales a laugh over your lips, but every image your mind conjures up hurts worse than the last.

You may want that desperately, but it’s not something you can achieve.

The daydream ends with hands around your neck and bloody waters clouding your vision. And thus, you startle yourself back to reality and tear your gaze away from the hangar bay below as not to let the images come back.

The peace you wish for is not one you can ever hold in the palm of your hand the way you wish. The crew cannot have it either so long as you are present in their lives. The next sound to tear through your consciousness nearly makes you believe that they wouldn’t be able to have that peace even if you weren’t around to mess it up. There’s a resounding shout of frustration followed by something loud thumping against the wall off to your left and behind you a bit. You whip around to stare at the door to Hongjoong’s quarters, the source of the sound, and wait with bated breath for something else to happen. You aren’t sure what exactly you’re waiting for — perhaps for the captain to step out in a huff of anger or something like that — but nothing happens for the next thirty seconds, which is what causes you to pull closer to the door. It’s hardly your place to eavesdrop on whatever is happening inside, although that doesn’t stop you from doing so anyway.

“I shouldn’t have had to put him in that fucking brig in the first place!” That clearly comes from Hongjoong; you can tell just from his voice, but he must not be alone in there as it sounds like his rant is directed at someone. “This isn’t the same situation as last time! He knows that the mission is our priority, that the goal is to get San and Mingi back, he wouldn’t let himself lose sight of that. The Seonghwa I know wouldn’t do that!”

“Then you shouldn’t have listened to him when he asked you to put him in there, Hongjoong! You were the one who bent over backward for him yet again.” It’s Yunho’s voice that rises through the door next, and that is equal parts shocking and unsurprising because you aren’t sure who else would possibly be in there with Hongjoong at this hour. “Your only two options are to either leave Seonghwa where he is or let him out to do as he wishes. If he chooses to go out there and kill his mother, then so be it!”

“That’s not what he wants, Yunho,” Hongjoong refutes without missing a beat. “And it’s not what I want either — I don’t care for either of those options. I want to let Seonghwa out and have that be that, nor for him to go off and murder someone! He hardly wants to kill her, it’s just what he thinks he ought to do as an Elitist but — you… you wouldn’t understand it, Yunho. You wouldn’t understand what goes through Seonghwa’s head or what he wants.”

The next sound to fall from Yunho’s lips is a scoff, and you can almost picture the way his eyes roll with the noise.

“You can’t pretend like you understand what all Seonghwa wants either, Hongjoong.”

There’s another clatter and something smacks into the wall again.

“I’m trying my fucking best! I am trying my best to know what he wants right now. All I know for certain is what he is afraid of, and I know that he fears turning into the kind of person his father was and he fears losing himself. This would—”

“You can’t know whether this would make that happen, Hongjoong, that’s the point I’m trying to make here.”

“Are you encouraging murder all of a sudden? When have you gone a minute without chastising me for taking an innocent’s life?”

“And when have you ever hesitated to let your precious Lieutenant of Death kill someone? How many people have you killed yourself? How many have you asked Seonghwa to kill? How many innocents have bled under your hands, Hongjoong?” Yunho fires back, seeming to grow louder with each question he poses. “Is his mother innocent of all crimes? Does she not deserve to die? Because Seonghwa sure talks about her like she deserves a fate worse than death!”

“And if she deserves death then I will bring it upon her myself!” Hongjoong accentuates his words by slapping his hands down on his desk, letting the sound echo after he speaks, and Yunho doesn’t respond for a bit.

“How angry would Seonghwa be if he found out then?” Yunho inquires, tone so low you can barely pick up on the words.

“He wouldn’t need to, Yunho. He wouldn’t need to find out. He could just hear that she passed away in her sleep a long time ago because of age or illness.”

“You’re so ready to base your relationship with him on lies when doing so was what caused things to go to shit between you in the first place. I can’t fix you a second time, Hongjoong. I can’t do shit if you are the one making things intentionally worse. You need to sit your ass down in that fucking brig like a god damn man would and take responsibility for your mistakes. Then you need to ask Seonghwa what he wants and hear it from his own damn mouth rather than assuming what Seonghwa wants and hoping for the best. Fucking listen to him and trust him for once instead of making every decision in his life for him. Why do you think he ran off to Y/N in the first place?” That causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and you seize up as though both men inside know you’re standing outside the door as they speak. “He at least got to choose her.”

“He chose to join my crew, he asked to join my crew, he chose a fuckton of things in his life, Yunho! You want me to be a man? I am his captain. Is that not enough for you?”

“No, it’s not, Hongjoong. You being captain doesn’t mean shit to me unless you have the balls to back it up, and from where I’m standing, you aren’t going to step up anytime soon. There are only two people on this ship who can put you in your place. That includes both me and Seonghwa, but Seonghwa stopped doing it a long time ago because you changed the dynamic of the relationship without stopping to ask him how he felt.”

“Are you trying to act like you’re in control now?” Hongjoong counters, but his voice has lost a bit of the edge in it.

“Act?” Yunho releases a tiny hum. You can almost feel the way the mood inside the room shifts despite not being inside yourself. “Now you’re just trying to rile me up so you get what you want and I forget about this conversation.”

“That would only be the case if it works, Yunho.”

You pull back from the door, having a slight sense of where this conversation is headed and realizing that you probably shouldn’t stay any longer. As you move to exit the bridge, however, you can’t help but wonder how much of what Yunho said is accurate.

Would — could Seonghwa really want to kill his mother? Maybe for a sense of closure and peace? To put that part of his life behind him for good perhaps?

If Hongjoong truly were to kill the woman behind Seonghwa’s back, then you don’t doubt that Seonghwa would be enraged, to put it mildly. Everything you have seen from him thus far since meeting him has shown you that he prefers to do things himself than to rely on others to do it for him. Yet… even if his mother passed of natural causes, you are not sure that Seonghwa could have his closure unless he saw her body with his own two eyes. So maybe that is why his inner voice is as desperate as it is for him to kill her.

You cannot speak for Seonghwa himself, but you do know a fraction about such closure. Not seeing Hyunwoo’s body after the execution and having to dig an empty grave was one of the most painful experiences of your life, even if you cannot remember much of it or if it was completely fabricated, the pain you were left with from said memory is still sore to the touch. You would have given anything to have his body to bury but instead, you were left with absolutely nothing, not even something small and of value to him in life. You were denied closure then. It causes you to think back to those pardon papers again. If you had been granted that closure, would you have even sought the pardon papers in the first place? Would you have gone off and settled down somewhere no one could find you?

Seonghwa has mentioned craving peace before. You know you will never have yours because of your lack of closure, so perhaps if he were to achieve his, then things would end better for him.

That thought stops you dead in your tracks, midway down the corridor leading away from the bridge.

Although… Seonghwa mentioned begging to be put in the brig. If he truly wanted this, then why the hell would he ask for such a thing?

“Please leave. I do not trust myself in this state, and if I hurt you on top of — on top of what I’ve already done, Y/N, please. I won’t forgive myself if I ever lay a harmful hand on you even in the slightest.”

You make a spur of the moment decision right then and there, spinning on your heel in the middle of the corridor and inhaling sharply as you head back to the bridge with a new thought in mind. You wish to hear from Hongjoong himself what transpired before Seonghwa was put in the brig and the reasoning as to why Hongjoong agreed to such a thing. Sure, now might not be the opportune time for such a discussion, but you have already made up your mind and it’s unlikely you would be able to sleep with this plaguing your thoughts anyway.

Less than a minute passes before you are back at Hongjoong’s door, this time rapping your knuckles as hard and loud as you can on the metal. You hear nothing more of a conversation inside — neither his nor Yunho’s voices filter through the door until after your knocking ceases. Then a bit of shuffling resounds followed by some mutterings that vaguely sound like complaints of some sort. That could not have prepared you in the slightest for the sight that greets you when the door finally slides open.

First of all, it is not Hongjoong who stands before you, but rather Yunho.

And not only that little shocking tidbit because Yunho is very much standing half-naked with pants hung low around his hips and absolutely no shame or insecurity in the way he leans against the doorframe to greet you.

The inherent shock from the sight causes you to sputter and choke on air, gaze darting off to the side and away from the healer as quick as humanly possible. You truly do your best to ignore the very obvious trail of bruises along the column of his neck and collarbone, along with the ones traveling lower.

“Oh? Looking to join us, Y/N?” He asks. An amused grin paints his lips, you can see that much out the corner of your eye.

“Abs-Absolutely not, Yunho, are you mad?” You refute through a stutter and dare to focus back on his face (and his face only). Yunho arches an eyebrow, not at all shy in the way he drags his gaze over your body from head to toe. You ignore him with a scoff then ready to duck around his stupidly tall form. He seems to catch that before you can though because he darts a hand out across the doorway and effectively blocks your path inside.

“You certain about that? You seem a bit eager to come in.” Your only reply is a pointed glare. Thankfully, Yunho picks up on the hint in that look after a second and shifts his tone. “Is it an emergency?”

“I need to ask Hongjoong something, it’s important. About Seonghwa.” You see movement just past Yunho’s shoulder and glance beyond him. Hongjoong stands back at the other edge of the room in the doorframe to what must be his bedroom. You nearly don’t recognize him right them because of how… incredibly fragile he appears to be. A blanket wraps around his shoulders and torso, dwarfing his already small figure and making him almost come across as something delicate. If someone asked you to point out the horrifying and menacing pirate captain in the room, you would glance over Hongjoong without a thought.

“I take it you’ve been down to the brig then?” Hongjoong pipes up. His voice bounces off the walls to reach your ears, confident and knowing.

“I have.”

Hongjoong ducks his chin to his chest, and the way his breathing shakes his form almost makes him seem like he’s laughing at your response. Then he comes closer to join you and Yunho where you stand. You hardly miss the way one of the captain’s hands darts out to touch Yunho’s bare waist before he brushes a soft kiss over the back of Yunho’s shoulder. It’s a rare — no, more than simply rare, it’s frankly a sight you have never seen from Hongjoong before in that you have never witnessed him be so openly intimate with anyone in the crew in such a way. Perhaps the closest he has gotten was when you were left in the medbay with him and Seonghwa, but even that was not as… openly blatant as the way he touches Yunho before you now. Yet it does not seem to be meant to tease you in any way; you moreso get the sense that it’s almost a threat in a way. After all, you are still the newest on the crew and you aren’t sure you have fully gained Hongjoong’s trust. If this is a challenge, you aren’t sure how it is meant to test you.

“Go back to the bedroom. I’ll be there shortly,” Hongjoong murmurs against Yunho’s slightly flushed skin. The healer steps away with nothing more than a nod. Hongjoong waits until the taller man disappears into that room he just emerged from before turning back to face you. He still seems smaller in your eyes like this even though he is closer; the two of you are more evenly matched when he’s not wearing his typical heeled boots. The blanket around his body strains as he pulls it tighter. He, like Yunho, is very clearly not wearing much in the way of clothes underneath, but at least he covered himself mildly even if you can see a deep v exposing his chest through the folds of the fabric. It is enough for you to see numerous bumps and ridges along that strip of skin, all discolored and mismatched lines that mar an otherwise perfect canvas of tanned skin. Even if expected, it’s an alarming amount of scars for such a small expanse of skin. And if you look past the points where scars are, you can make out the barest hint of black ink accompanying the marks — it spreads over him like a constellation, connected by lines and threads of varying thickness to meet each other in other corners.

You tear your gaze away with great effort, clearing your throat as you blink up to look the captain in the eye.

“Seonghwa mentioned that something happened while we were gone on the mission. He asked me to leave before I had the chance to ask further about it but…” Your voice dies in your throat then, and nerves suddenly curl in your stomach. When you speak again, it’s in nothing more than a whisper. “What happened?”

Hongjoong hums.

It’s the only sound he makes for quite a while too, and you think he has no intention of continuing the conversation until he shifts his blanket all of a sudden and exposes the lower half of his body. Just as before with Yunho, you are swift to look in the opposite direction before you spot anything you do not wish to see.

“That’s hardly appropriate, Captain,” you grit out, finding a newfound interest in the wall to your left. Hongjoong exhales a laugh that’s so soft it sounds more like a sigh.

“Seonghwa stabbed me.”

Now that has your head jerking back to examine him, and thankfully, your eyes settle on pants around his hips rather than nothing at all. One of his hands slips down to tap what looks to be a bandage. He peels it back as gently as possible and reveals a narrow yet long slice along his abdomen, almost parallel to his side. All in all, it doesn’t appear to be too gruesome or gnarly, no doubt held together by liquid stitches of some sort.

“We had a small argument after putting Han in the brig,” Hongjoong continues. As usual, his tone is near impossible to read with no clues as to what he is feeling as he recalls the memory.

“Did it involve discussions of Seonghwa’s mother?”

“Yes, yes, of course, it did.” Hongjoong returns the bandage to its original placement then tugs the blanket back around his body. He brings a hand up to run through his mess of fading blue hair. “It didn’t start that way though. He accused me of caring more about him appearing to be an Elitist than anything else. Threatened to tell Jisung that he is a Siren along with the rest of the crew. I doubt Jisung even cares about Sirens in the slightest given the way he is hyperfocused on you instead, but Seonghwa has always been so adamant about being wanted by others because of what he is. And I know that we were both acting rashly and out of fear rather than reason, but it doesn’t — that does not excuse what we said to each other. I told Seonghwa that perhaps he might feel better killing me rather than his mother, and that obviously did not go over very well. That’s when he stabbed me, well, it was more a glancing blow than a stab. Hardly even deep enough to cause significant damage, but Seonghwa damn near acted as though I was fucking bleeding to death though. He called for Yunho to get me patched up them begged that I put him in the brig. As much as I wanted to deny him that, I complied.”

“I can talk to him,” you offer without a second thought.

“Talk to him? What is it you think to do, Y/N?”

“I was denied my closure, Captain, and that has haunted me every day for the past several years. You… you are a person who achieved that already; I don’t need to know the details of your backstory to understand that because it is more than clear in the way you handle yourself and matters around you. But Seonghwa? He hasn’t gotten his closure either. At least allow me to talk with him and see if this is what he truly wants before you rule anything out.” Hongjoong regards you with nothing more than a lingering stare for a bit. You take it as a cue to excuse yourself and leave, yet the second you turn to do so, he catches hold of your wrist and pulls you back to be face to face with him. The jerk of his arm sends you propelling forward more than you expect because it tugs you close enough to nearly smack foreheads with the captain.

“I am willing to trust you with this and with Seonghwa, at least for now. Take care to remember that, especially when it comes to Seonghwa’s heart. For if you mislead him in the slightest, there will be hell to pay.” Your subconsciousness has you straightening your back at those words, reading the thinly veiled threat with ease.

“I won’t do anything to influence his decisions. They should all be his own anyway, so I won’t try to change that for him. You have my word. Besides, you no doubt plan to talk with him again soon, right?” Hongjoong’s gaze falls into a pointed glare at that comment, and you catch yourself a little too late. “At least, I’m sure he would appreciate that either way.” That soothes the captain enough for him to release his grip on your arm, and he lets you step away from the door after that.

“I pray for both our sakes that his mind is kind enough to have a reasonable discussion with you. But… don’t — don’t get too close just in case the worst happens.”

“Understood, Captain,” you whisper back. The warning is a bit haunting albeit necessary; it’s moreso unfortunate that Hongjoong has to even usher the warning in the first place because the Seonghwa you know would never willingly harm someone he cares about. Especially not Hongjoong.

As you walk away from Hongjoong’s quarters and off the bridge for a second time tonight, you have to remind yourself that it is still Seonghwa down there. He isn’t a different person, he’s not some monster even if there is a bit of fear curling through your gut as you walk down to the brig. He remains the same Seonghwa that you know and care about so much. Perhaps you have just been blessed enough to only witness the pretty sides to his character in the time you’ve known him. Thinking all the way back to the way you met — how you knocked him out cold in front of an airlock — he was not cruel or heartless then either. In fact, every ounce of evidence up until recently made you wonder how such a compassionate soul could possibly be such a deadly and fearsome pirate.

“Perhaps it’s time for me to go home and face my demons after all,” Seonghwa whispers, letting his smile stretch a bit wider. It falls away a second later, and something dark takes over, something you decide you don’t want to see cross Seonghwa’s features again. Because in that moment, you see something sinister and cruel, and all the legends you heard about the man come to life before you. The stories of a man in a black cloak bearing a silver scythe in one hand with a gun in the other, the fearless killer who stands beside the Scourge of the Black Sea rearing death in his wake. When Seonghwa turns on his heel and leaves the room, you see it. The dark shadows billowing behind him curl outwards and sweep across the floor, crude shapes built by the light in the hallway, and that cloak of darkness sits on Seonghwa’s shoulders. It’s like the Lieutenant of Death has crawled his way out of the dark abyss of hell that Seonghwa kept him buried in, and the face he rears horrifies you.

That thought keeps you occupied the whole way down to the brig, and it continues when you climb down the ladder with hesitant steps. As before, Jisung is the first thing you see when you reach the bottom, although this time he is curled on his side and facing the wall. He must be asleep given his position, yet you’re hesitant to write him off as so without knowing for certain. You don’t dare stop to find out, however, and instead just move past his cell as quietly as you can.

You find Seonghwa still sitting upright in his own tiny prison. He has shifted to put his back to Jisung now though, and his head hangs at an angle that is uncomfortable to look at. Whether he was already awake or merely sensed your presence, you have no way of knowing. Nonetheless, he shifts to glance back at you when you approach, chains jingling and rattling in the silence of the room.

“I asked you not to return,” he murmurs once you are close enough to hear him. You don’t kneel before his cell in the same way you did last time. There’s a bit more distance between you and the bars now, enough to be just out of harm’s way but near enough for you to reach out if you so desired.

“You know I’m no good at following orders,” you reply with a melancholy smile. Seonghwa’s gaze softens a bit at that. He tilts his head back to rest on the bars, still staring at you out the corner of his eye. He seems exhausted beyond belief — muscles lax and with no strength to them, eyelids drooping every time he blinks, breath huffing out in deep sighs rather than even exhales. Despite that, you don’t get the sense he wants to rest at all.

“Why aren’t you resting? I’m sure you’re tired from the mission.”

“I rested enough earlier.” But couldn’t stay asleep because of the nightmares. Nightmares in which you killed both yourself and Hongjoong. Ones where San took the serum and forgot me. “I’m okay.” That seems to be more for your own ears than for Seonghwa’s. He hums a bit anyway, acknowledging your words as his eyelids flutter some.

“You don’t need to come keep me company, you know.”

“I can’t just see you because I want to?”

“Y/N…” Seonghwa faces forward before finishing the thought. Something seems to overcome him, if the sudden spike of distress that rolls off his shoulders is any indication at least, and he curls in on himself some more. Your first instinct is to move closer to him and offer some sort of physical comfort, but Seonghwa only pushes further into the corner of his cell when you move. “Don’t.”

“I trust you, Seonghwa,” you utter back. You heed his words though and stop dead in your tracks.

“That would be your first mistake.”

“Why?”

“What?” Seonghwa’s counterattack sounds nearly incredulous.

“Why would it be a mistake to trust you?”

“You are at a greater risk than Hongjoong, yet I still hurt him. Just like last time.”

“How am I at a greater risk, Seonghwa?”

“I don’t — I fear… I fear my mind mistaking you for someone who should die simply because you are a woman.”

“Ah…” you exhale. The implication is there: he’s afraid of mistaking you for his mother in the craze that his head is putting him through. You hadn’t even thought that to be a risk before honestly. From the memories you saw of her, you don’t think you look anything like said woman, but you also have no idea of what Seonghwa’s demons are capable of convincing him to believe. If they’re strong enough to make him harm Hongjoong, then no doubt they would be capable of that too. Seonghwa reaches down to rub at the skin around his ankles, where the flesh has already turned red and bruised from repeated abuse.

“I can’t stay here, Y/N. I’ll lose my mind. I almost wish that fool behind me would do more to antagonize me, but it’s my own head that refuses to let me come up for air.” The chains rattle once more as he reaches up to massage his hairline. The thin black strands of hair cling to his skin like he’s sweating buckets, and under the little bit of light in the brig, you can see a sheen of sweat on his body.

The room is deathly cold.

“Hongjoong mentioned… he said you believe he is forcing you to masquerade as an Elitist.” The words are spoken quiet enough to where you don’t think Jisung could pick up on them even if he were awake.

“I don’t. That’s the thing — I don’t believe that. I know he’s not. I don’t know what came over me when I said such a thing. It isn’t his fault that I-I am like this, and he shouldn’t even have to b-blame himself for it. I’m the one who chose this and demanded the masquerade before he even knew my true identity.”

“But—”

You stop the thought in your throat, cutting off with a small grimace and sigh of air. Seonghwa jerks to look at you anyway. He waits and waits for you to finish the thought, and under his intense gaze, you have lost much of the confidence you had in saying such a thing.

“From what I saw of your memories, and what you told me of your childhood, you were not the one to decide that,” you say after some deliberation. “It was her.” Admittedly, part of you fears the reaction you might garner from Seonghwa in mentioning his mother directly, so you try to keep it as vague as possible. “You never asked to be kept a secret.”

“My worst crime then was being born,” Seonghwa murmurs more to himself than to you. “Now what is it? A son who wants nothing more than to kill the woman who brought him into this world? The more time goes on, the more I… I-I lose myself. I don’t know where my line of morality is, nor do I know how to adhere to it. Y/N, I’m—” Seonghwa falls silent, tongue caught between his teeth, and when he looks to you, there are tears shining in the corners of his eyes. “I’m so afraid.”

You don’t think you have ever heard Seonghwa utter such words, at least not with the raw conviction he says them with or the wrecked pain that radiates off his body.

“Are you afraid of what might happen if you do kill her or what might happen if you don’t?”

Seonghwa doesn’t answer right away; instead, he hangs his head between his knees and you can only watch helplessly as the man’s shoulders tremble under an invisible weight.

“The right answer… what a good person would say is that I fear killing her. But I’m more terrified of what happens if I don’t. How much longer do I suffer if I don’t take this opportunity now? Can I justify risking your safety, Hongjoong’s safety, the crew’s safety for being a good person? I know the blood on my hands is already immeasurable, the infamous Lieutenant of Death shouldn’t fear one more life ended, and I don’t. I just can’t figure out if the Seonghwa who isn’t an Elitist believes that or if it’s the Seonghwa I’ve pretended to be most of my life. Maybe part of me fears how you all might view me if I do kill her.”

“I can’t say it wouldn’t change anything, but I don’t know if anyone would view you as a bad or evil person because of it.”

Seonghwa huffs out a weak laugh and pushes his hair back with the hand he’s not keeping clenching into a tight fist.

“I think Hongjoong is convinced I’ll turn into some sort of monster.”

“He believes that you don’t want to do it,” you counter. “He thinks that your definition of losing yourself lies in killing your mother.”

“I thought it did too.” Hopeless. That’s the word you would use to describe Seonghwa’s current tone, and it burns you from the inside out to hear such desperation on his lips. “If I keep pulling away simply because I’m afraid to hurt any of you, then what right do I have to call myself a lieutenant? To work as Hongjoong’s right-hand? I-I should have some semblance of self-control rather than continuing to distance myself. I thought back then that my mind was crying for her blood bec-because it wanted me to go insane, but now it sounds more and more like a cry for help. When this is all said and done, when it’s time for me to rest, I don’t want to have lost any of you along the way. And I certainly don’t want to be the cause of it either.”

To you, that sounds like a decision. And so, you echo his words back to him with a resolute tone.

“If you tell Hongjoong that, he would take you there, Seonghwa.” You aren’t strong enough to push the full meaning into your words, but it lingers between you. He knows what you mean. “He’s adamant that the decision be yours, as am I. Even Yunho wants you to do what you think is the best course of action. And should you get there and not be able to carry it out, no one would force you to, and no one would do it for you unless you asked that of them.”

“I could never ask anyone to take that burden for me, Y/N.”

“Then you have your answer.” You muster up the courage to slide closer to Seonghwa’s cage and slip a hand between the bars. You don’t push your luck and touch him quite yet, merely letting your hand rest on the bed of metal for Seonghwa to regard with a terrified stare. Although it’s slow progress, he inches his hand down to rest a little ways away from your own. “I promised Hongjoong that I would do nothing to influence your decision, and I plan to uphold that promise. I just… want you to know you are loved today just as you were yesterday, and you’ll be loved tomorrow as well. Whatever kind of that love is, it’s love nonetheless. These people — the family you have built and chosen yourself — will continue to love you even if you get a little lost along the way.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound so certain of something before.”

It’s your turn to exhale a little laugh, although yours is merely one of faux amusement.

“I wish you could see the way they look at you, Seonghwa. The respect they hold in their eyes when they see you, the admiration and love and affection — I don’t need to feel what they feel to know how much they care. It’s not a matter of thinking you are strong because they know you are. You don’t have to force yourself to show restraint or continue to be the thing your mother wanted you to be for them to know you are strong. You have already been with them through some of the toughest moments of their lives, you have been at Hongjoong’s side and you have led just as much as he has. I firmly believe that is not a bond that could be so easily severed.”

Seonghwa’s fingers are so close to yours, so close to curling around your palm and holding you at last, taking that last step of the fickle little thing called trust. At this point, you are throwing yourself headfirst into it with reckless abandon. While there might be some hesitance hiding away in your bones, you would rather see Seonghwa take this step forward in trusting himself.

In the next second, that precious thread of peace snaps and frays at the edges.

“Bravo, Y/N, bravo.” You withdraw your hand from Seonghwa’s cell with a start, lips pressing into a thin line as you turn to regard the man who spoke with a glare. Jisung smiles back at you. It’s all poison and menace. His chains ring to an inaudible song as he claps his hands together. “Oh, you must be so proud of yourself for that one, little lady. Absolutely riveting and… encouraging and… inadequate, don’t you think?”

“Don’t you ever tire of hearing yourself speak?” You hiss back without answering the question.

“I don’t think I do. Because every time I speak, I just dig my way under your skin a little more, and that? That amuses me to no end.”

“Don’t humor him, Y/N,” Seonghwa mutters. His hands are now withdrawn to rest in his lap again and curled into tight balls as he stares down at the floor. “I’ve found he wears himself out if you ignore him.” You can hardly imagine being trapped here for more than five minutes with Jisung, but Seonghwa has been in here for hours. Unfortunately, you don’t hold the same resilience that Seonghwa does.

You push up to your feet and stalk towards Jisung’s cell with no clear intent in your mind.

It feeds right into what he said though, it’s proof that he has gotten under your skin and bothered you to some extent, yet you don’t stop even with that knowledge.

“Don’t you have what you want? Haven’t you wreaked enough havoc in your stay here?”

“Oh? And what is it I want exactly, Y/N? Let me hear it from your pretty lips instead of my own.”

“You want me,” you spit back, leaning over the bars like it will intimidate the man behind them.

“And? Do I have what I want?”

“And you fucking have me. I made the deal, I did what you wanted, can’t you quit now?”

“Such foul language from my little lady’s mouth. A shame, truly.”

“I’m not yours to be clai—”

“Incorrect! You said it yourself: I have you. As far as I’m concerned that makes you mine. I really wanted us to find a nice peaceful place to settle down after all this, but you… you are so violent. Angry. I really would rather not be forced to deal with such behaviors, but if you continue to do so, then maybe we can try that method they’re using on the Spectre. What was it? Regression… therapy? I hear it’s quite effective in breaking someone’s spirit. Shall we try?”

You know better than to fall into that trap again. It’s all for show; Jisung is merely saying and doing these things to bother you because he knows how best to do so. He hasn’t yet even proven that he has the balls to follow through with anything he’s threatened, but he also understands that he doesn’t need to. Whether he proves it or not, he wins merely by garnering a reaction from you. It was a tactic you learned about years ago, something they taught your unit before you engage in high-risk intelligence-gathering missions.

“You don’t get to talk about San,” you fire back, right into the trap Jisung laid before you.

“San, is it? He’s the one you worry about most, no?” The smile painted on Jisung’s lips nearly seems genuine. It probably would be if not for the gleam in his eyes. “You always got too attached too quickly. I suppose that hasn’t changed.”

Jisung sits up on his heels and traces a finger over the bars separating you. Whatever the reason in doing so is a mystery to you, but you stand transfixed by the gentle movements.

“I bet you haven’t even told him how you feel. That’s the scary part, isn’t it? The part where they leave? Die? Or worse… forget everything about you? When the doctors go in to reset his brain, they won’t even think to keep those memories of you. If it makes you feel any better, I can take your memories of him away too.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

The laugh that tears through Jisung’s lips echoes off the walls and bounces off your ears.

“Is this so amusing to you?” Seonghwa is the one to pose the question, voiced raised a bit so it carries over to where you and Jisung are.

“I haven’t even begun to have my fun yet. I do so adore seeing relationships crack under the slightest bit of pressure though. I suppose that’s one thing dearest Y/N and I have in common. I’m not sure she’s let you glimpse into the cruelest parts of her yet.” His smile drops with such haste that it causes you to visibly flinch. “I’ve seen them all, Lieutenant. Oh, the fun we’ll have once together again, doll~”

“Fuck you, Han,” you spit through the curling fear in your gut. Your words have no effect and offer no respite, however; all it does is bring the smile back to Jisung’s lips and another laugh from his throat.

“You should be grateful that Hyunwoo spared you from living with the weight of your worst crimes. I wanted to let you live with them but he said you would be too guilty and too much of a liability if we left you with them. He had to be the one to take the weight of those crimes after all. I wonder how many of those broken memories will still be intact when I go back into that pretty little brain of yours again. Since Hyunwoo won’t be around to keep me from playing this time, that is. Which ones should I release first, Y/N?”

“Shut up.”

“You saw our lovely whore in Lynder didn’t you? Don’t tell me she forgave you for what you did… perhaps we should start there.”

“Shut the hell up, Han Jisung, if you want to keep your life.”

“Oh?” Jisung presses forward and gets to his feet without batting an eye. You hadn’t realized how close you had gotten to his cell until he comes face to face with you behind the bars, so close that the heat from his body radiates onto your skin. “I would be careful, Y/N. I’ve spent years learning how best to toy with brains using the military’s serum. If you want to keep your sanity, then I suggest you play nice like the good little doll you are. You wouldn’t want to be left with any horribly traumatic memories, now would you?”

Jisung’s lips fall into a faux pout, and you take a hasty step back from the bars in disgust.

“I told you: I know plenty about making people break. All I have to do is tell you the smallest white lie for seeds of doubt to take root. I can make you believe that you killed thousands of people without even taking a single step into your head. Take that into account before you attempt to threaten me.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe, but we… we’re merely two halves of a whole crazy, Y/N. You need me to survive because if you didn’t, you would have forgotten all about me a long time ago, wouldn’t you? Isn’t it funny how someone who doesn’t even have any true and real memories of her past clings to it so desperately?”

“You know, from where I’m standing, you aren’t doing shit to help us find the others, so I have no reason to uphold my end of the bargain,” you deflect, turning the conversation on its head to escape his pointless scrutiny of your reasoning. It works to your advantage perfectly because Jisung huffs air through his teeth and rolls his eyes.

“We’re on Dorado, no? Your Berserker is in the Lower Echelon of Lynder near the Smokehouses. Large warehouse preparing for reprogramming no doubt. You won’t be able to get him out. Your best hope is to wait until after the reprogramming as my crew will take him back to our ship, then we can play tradesies and bring him back while you come with me.”

“Or you can go to that warehouse and tell them the deal is off and there’s been a change in plans.”

You squat down beside Jisung’s cell, hand slipping over your waistband and dipping underneath it to pull the sheathed knife you keep there out. It glints under the low yellow lights above your head.

“Scourge was right in saying that it’s hard to threaten a man like you. But one thing fucks your plans up, Jisung. If I’m dead, then what do you get out of this?”

The playful gleam in Jisung’s eyes fades like a candle being snuffed out. His smirk falls, expression growing grave in mere seconds, and you crank up the heat a little further as you dance the knife over the inside of your wrist.

“If it means ruining your plans, I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of my crew. You should know that by now.”

“You haven’t fucking changed in all these years.”

“Is that a yes?”

“You fucking wish, you harlot. Do you really think—”

You cut him short by digging the knife harder into your skin, just enough to break through and cause a stream of red to slip out. He falls silent with a sharp inhale of air.

“I hope you agree before I run dry, Jisung. You want me to be a psychopath so badly? Let’s fucking play. Ten seconds until I cut again, and this time it’ll be vertical, so I sure hope you realize the stakes now.”

“You think your boy toy in the corner over there will sit still as you kill yourself to prove a point?”

“From where I’m standing, it seems like neither of you is in any sort of position to stop me. Five seconds, Jisung.” A drop of scarlet falls from the tip of the knife to the floor. Jisung watches it splatter, eyes calculating and careful as it moves, then he blinks back up to look you in the eye.

“I’ll tell them to cancel the reprogramming and send your Berserker back to my ship.”

“That’s not good enough,” you reply without missing a beat. The knife careens back towards your arm, and Jisung lunges forward in his cell as you shift, a desperate attempt to stop you from continuing the damage. He can’t fit a hand through the bars with the shackles around his wrists though, and he’s left to hiss out a complaint when the knife penetrates your skin again. It’s closer to your elbow this time, a deceptively shallow slice the runs parallel to the bone. Red blossoms over the line immediately. “You go in there, get them to cancel the reprogramming, then bring him out yourself to deliver him to this ship and this ship only.”

Jisung doesn’t respond right away, prompting you to lift the knife again in threat, and he snaps into action at that. Scarlet trails down the blade.

“Fine! You can even send some fucking lackeys with me to make sure I get the job done.”

“I’ll save you the trouble of trying to fuck it up while out there; I will go with you, along with our Berserker Jongho just so you don’t forget what you’re supposed to do out there.” It’s hardly your place to make such decisions or plans in place of Hongjoong, but since he’s otherwise preoccupied at the moment and you have this chance before you right now, you are going to do the most with it. And if Hongjoong has any issue with that? You’re willing to take the consequences of your actions later.

“If that’s what will make you happy, then so be it. My intention has always been to help you recover your lost crewmates.”

“Even though you were the one who kidnapped and sold them in the first place?”

“Did you think I would make things easy for you, Y/N? Come now… don’t let my kindness fool you. You haven’t even thought to ask about the other one — the Spectre, was it? Here I thought he mattered to you. You were oh so concerned when I spoke of him before.”

“I’m fucking getting there, Han. You’re in no position to be impatient,” you hiss out through gritted teeth. Jisung merely laughs at the fire in your tone.

“I’m hardly impatient, doll. In fact, I have all the time in the world. However—” he hesitates to lift one of his shackled hands and points a finger directly up “—that Spectre has a countdown looming over his head, does he not? Countdown to the hard reset? I wonder what stage of regression therapy they’re at by now. Or maybe he’s already given in? My men told me that he was… so responsive whenever your name was mentioned. I wonder if he’ll beg like the mutt he is when it comes time for him to break.”

That tips you over the edge you’ve been teetering on since entering the brig for a second time. You drop your knife to the ground, letting it clatter and fall away from where you’re squatted in front of Jisung, then you thrust your bleeding arm through the bars to close your fingers around his throat where the band of his collar can’t reach. The strain and pull on your skin burns and causes the wounds to split a bit further. It doesn’t stop you from squeezing Jisung’s neck until his face turns purple.

“Run that by me again, Han Jisung, and see what happens.”

It’s that slight insanity creeping back up your neck and into your mind — the same craze that overtook you when Taskmaster Cara stabbed San back on Echidna.

“What? Is this not a fun game for you? You were enjoying it so much not too long ago. Do you not enjoy it not?” You taunt as you twist the blade in her.

“Y-You’re a fucking – fucking psychopath.”

The smile returns to your lips. You pull the knife out of her leg with haste then move forward so that you can squat down in front of her.

“I’ve heard that before too,” you mutter as you twirl the knife in your grasp. The smile coating your lips dissipates. “But only by the people who deserve their fates.”

It terrified you then, made you fear who you were and what you could become. Now? Your mind fights the urge to kill Jisung as best it can, but it’s a losing battle, because no matter how hard you try, you cannot peel your hand away from his neck. It’s like a voice is playing on repeat in the back of your head, saying ‘kill kill kill’ over without cease.

Your ears ring with the blood thumping through your veins. If you squeeze just a little tighter then—

“Enough.”

Your hand pulls away from Jisung’s neck with such haste that you slam it hard against the bars as you’re trying to withdraw it from his cell. You scramble back from the cell full of a terror that can only be directed at yourself because you don’t know what came over you in that moment. The figure creeping up on your left doesn’t even register until he is in your space and squatting beside you. A hand overlays one of your trembling ones and pulls your arm out until your injured forearm is exposed.

“Reckless. What else should I expect from you?” It’s then that you finally decide to look up at the owner of the voice, finding none other than the captain standing over you like you’re nothing more than a petulant child who can’t learn a lesson. Still, his tone holds far more softness than anger, and you don’t get the sense that he’s truly enraged by your actions. “Go see Yunho and get these cleaned, hm? You’ll need to be in top condition if you’re heading out on yet another mission tomorrow. Though we’ll have to discuss your tendency to jump the gun on planning things without orders in the future as well.”

Ah, so he’s been present for a while if he overheard that bit as well. Then he had every opportunity to stop you from harming yourself or making any propositions with Jisung the entire time. It’s almost touching in a way knowing that Hongjoong allowed you to have that moment of control — a moment to take matters into your own hands — even if he’s all but told you that there will be consequences for said moment.

You offer a hesitant nod in response, glancing over at Jisung one last time before Hongjoong helps you to your feet. You are about to step past the captain when he yanks you back by the elbow in a similar fashion to your earlier stand-off with him outside his quarters. He presses so close to you that you smell the distinct musk of a fresh shower on his skin.

“Yunho’s still upstairs so don’t bother dropping by his room.”

You don’t understand why he had to whisper that fact to you like it was a closely guarded secret, but you are not going to point that out either. Instead, you murmur a quiet thank you and turn to climb the ladder out of the brig. Just before you reach the top, you dare to cast one more glance down to Hongjoong. He has moved to assume your previous position in front of Jisung’s cell, squatted low enough to be eye level with the man, and he holds your forgotten knife between two fingers. The scene is telling enough, but you can’t help but wonder what Hongjoong saw when you had your hand wrapped around Jisung’s neck. If he saw the way you started to pull apart at the seams and become slightly unhinged, that is. An even larger part of you wonders if perhaps what he saw was frightening enough to cause him to step in when he did.

The thought does not dwell for long; you put the brig behind you and leave Hongjoong to his own devices in there, deciding it better to not think about whatever he plans to do or say until he inevitably mentions it later to the crew. And even if he deems it unnecessary for the crew to know, you would accept that as well. Either way, you wish to leave what just happened behind you, bury it in the recesses of your mind like it’s a memory that does not belong because you wish it didn’t.

Your hands continue to tremble by your sides for the entirety of the walk back to the Hongjoong’s quarters.

I fear I will lose my mind if I cannot bring him back safely soon.

✧✧✧ a/n: here we are again i really played myself and said yeah this will be under 10k so i LIED to mYSELF um yeah wow okay i never know what to say after finishing a chapter i just go brrr i have a lot of energy tho feeling good about this chapter bringing back the survey bc it’s been a minute and i’d love to hear how we’re feeling nowadays and as always let me know how you feel in the comments replies whatever you wish just bring it on let’s GO hit me with the theories and thoughts!

if you would like to, you can take the survey here! if you would like to be added to the taglist, just let me know!

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

I feel a bit put off by Jin’s financial loss comments. I find it totally and completely unnecessary. They could have played a smaller Venue or something and they have been absolutely raking in masses of profits off fans for years.

All it does is fuel the weird elitist, capitalism worshiping fanbase. This makes it harder for people who cannot afford things because we all saw the responses when people point out the piece of being a Kpop fan.

Anon 2

''Hii!! sorry, could you explain a little bit more the whole "jin said that they won't be making any profit from the stadium tours and it's not cool" thing (idk if you said exactly that)??

it's just that English is not my first language so I'm a little bit confused and don't even know what to Google in the first place, like I'd say that I can talk about almost everything I English, but economics and money in general is impossible for me so I don't even know what he meant with that (is all the money going to hybe?? not enough people bought tickets?? they think it is too cheap?) I don't even know''

I'm adding the two asks together and I'll expand on my initial post, about Jin's comment and Army response. I hope this will be clear enough so there is no misunderstanding and my answer will be sufficient.

When it comes to Hybe's financial situation, I'll try and explain this in simple terms. The company made a lot of money in 2021, as their revenue passed 1 billion dollars, due to acquiring Ithaca Holdings, which contributed to a 58% growth. Hybe also makes money from what they call ''Artist Indirect'' business which means profit from projects that do not require the participation of the actual artist. So, while the pandemic, at least in the beginning, affected them due to the impossibility of having stadium concerts, they still made money from the tickets they sold for the offline concerts, they moved their focus towards releasing more and more merchandise and using BTS for advertising different brands and much more. Hybe made a lot of money during the pandemic so no one needs to feel sorry for them. Three days of concerts in Seoul for a significant smaller audience (which is in according to SK health guidelines and every company that had groups performing in person complied to that) may not bring actual profit from that particular project, but that doesn't mean it will affect the company revenue as a whole, as they do have other projects which will surely bring the money in. The Seoul concerts will not contribute to Hybe operating on a loss in 2022. It's ridiculous. And Jin making that comment was out of touch and unfortunately it had this disturbing effect which manifested in several ways: people thinking that they're doing the concerts more like a favor because look at them, they won't make a profit (really?), and they once again showed an elitist capitalist mindset, just like the first anon pointed out. Army doesn't need to ask for more merchandise so Hybe can make more money and that's because they more than likely will already do that, profit or no profit from certain concerts.

I understand that not everyone knows how a business works and there's nothing wrong with that, but then the best options would be to not make a comment or maybe ask around and then do some research on their own, instead of worshipping a company and not knowing how profit is made. Army shouldn't worry at all as they are the ones whose money are also contributing to the financial growth of Hybe and BTS through various means and they will buy, as long as BTS is the face of it.

Here is more information on Hybe's financial report in 2021.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

poly! lost boys with a s/o who is a gen z baby punk who loves going to rallies and stuff like that??? i love your writing btw!!!

We love a modern!au lost boys

Poly!Lost Boys x Modern!Baby Punk S/O

The boys refuse to give up the counterculture lifestyle. They may pick up fashion trends here or there, but they're old enough to know what'll stick and what won't. However, that doesn't mean that they don't at least have to try to blend in with the current scene. You comment on how they seem to have some old garage rock or grunge vintage styles and the boys are surprised that you know your shit. They decide to keep you around after that, and fill you in on whatever you don't already know. They did witness the literal birth of punk after all

When old school punk and goth became more popular in the modern day, the boys all proceeded to slip in whatever survived from the 80s. Marko never stopped wearing his jacket, David immediately goes back to having a mullet, Dwayne's look was timeless so he didn't have to change a thing, and Paul immediately traded skinny jeans for his old football pants.

You're gonna have to call them out on being elitists at least once. I'm sorry everyone but if you think these boys aren't going to be elitists, you are wrong. They saw the birth of punk, grunge, and all the other major countercultures since counterculture was a literal thing. They're smug assholes about it sometimes, but they're the type of smug assholes that will try to teach you everything they know. Firmly believe that they're the only ones allowed to be dicks about music to you. Anyone else is getting decked. Yes, this includes Dwayne. You mistook an Adolescents song for Black Flag one time and he has never let you let it down

However, David is the only one of them that's a punk/metal purist and you and Paul get on his nerves by playing Ayesha Erotica and by calling him an e-boy. He swears one of these days he's going to actually kill the both of you, especially when he actually gets a tiktok and learns what an e-boy actually is please do not let Paul discover tiktok

The boys love the rallies because there's nothing more punk than getting in the man's face about issues you care about! However, they really would rather if you only went to rallies during the nighttime so they could go with you. The boys hate cops (we been knew this) and they want to be there to make sure they don't start any shit at any of the rallies you're at

However, the boys are quickly banned from going to any rallies cause Marko decked a cop and somehow got Paul arrested??? They couldn't fly away with all the people around and basically Paul didn't help by making jokes the entire time they were putting cuffs on him. "Y'know, my safeword is lotion." "Hey, big boy you going my way?" When they put the cuffs on him, he literally said, "Okay, that's tight. Haha that's what he said" And proceeded to wink at the cop arresting him. The cop car was found down the road with the cops eaten and the car door ripped off. After that, the boys had to lay down low for awhile

The boys have been knew where all the best holes in the wall were, so you were introduced to plenty of new hangout places besides the scene on the boardwalk. Including the best places to shop. You wanted new gloves? Got em. New pants? Got em. New patches? Marko can show you personally where he likes to score. He'll even help you sew and start your own diy jacket. The two of you actually heavily bond over diy and Markos willing to kiss any pricked fingers :) Basically, hang out with the boys for awhile and they'll have you look like you walked right out of the 80s punk scene

Let's not forget the history. The boys know their punk history. With the four of them combined, they could probably run a night class on the subject. You walked into that relationship a baby punk and now you know as much as if you were actually there when it first happened

The boys also really aren't surprised when anyone in the music scene is revealed to be a terrible person in some way and they have a list in the cave of every artist that has been cancelled to date. Some of them were really hard for certain boys *cough* Motley Crue for Paul *cough*

Basically, they love and support you in all of your punk endeavors

[ironmandeficiency]

I saw y'all discussing potential zodiac signs for Pascal's characters, what's your take on the major ones? I personally believe Marcus Pike is a cancer, Catfish's a pisces, Din's a virgo, Whiskey's an aries, Oberyn's either a leo or a libra, Ezra's a gemini or a sag, but I lean towards gemini. Javier's the poster child for Scorpio. Don't know about Maxwell Lord.

pedro character star signs

i’m so sorry it took so long, i was tweaking this so much bc i wanted to make sure i got it right! these are just what i think based on my astrology opinions, i hope you like it! 💕 i added their moon signs for flair bc i can. gonna tag a few friends i think may be interested, hope it’s not an inconvenience

max phillips: aries sun & moon. his ambition and charisma paired with the carefree attitude and optimism are an optimum fire sign duality and despite the fact i shouldn't, i love it so much. he has an inner child that he spoils with the riches of his conquests (good and bad) & gets emotional contentment when he succeeds in achieving his goals. knows what he wants & is quick to make those wants known. you never have to worry about where you stand with him because he will not hesitate to tell you.

javier peña: taurus sun with scorpio moon (the real guy is a taurus & i can see it but w heavy scorpio influence). he has his own structure and routine and will fight to the death to maintain it. very work oriented & does his best to rationalize his emotion-driven scorpio moon with his taurean logic, it's a tossup as to whether it works half the time. has a lot of emotional needs that aren't always met day to day & thats why he smokes and drinks and fucks. but don’t let anything make you doubt his love for you because the only thing stronger than his stubborn streak is his heart and its capacity to love you so damn much.

maxwell lord: libra sun with a sagittarius moon. the charisma? attractive and engaging af. oddly adept at chameleoning himself into whatever social group he's trying to vibe with. will draw eyes no matter what because so many people know him & if they don't already, they sure as hell want to. it takes him a while to learn to balance healthy relationships and his work life but when he does, you can visibly see how much healthier he is because of it. normally tends to his emotions in private but with help, he can start sharing a bit more. more optimistic than he sometimes should be but it could be worse

frankie morales: pisces sun with a cancer moon. his caring and sometimes cautious nature (with a twinge of homicidal tendencies) make him one that you don't just casually fuck with sexually or otherwise. catches feelings very easy & makes a lot of emotionally-driven decisions. these two water signs have a propensity towards codependence & defensiveness when hurt. is at his best when he feels loved and is supported by those he loves. emotions are always fluctuating and there’s some trouble with self-discipline (which is not the same as self-deprecation). because of this, he needs someone who can ground him

jack "whiskey" daniels: his swagger!! his charm!! his generosity!! the protectiveness over people he cares about!! this has the makings of a leo sun. this charismatic sun sign paired with his capricorn moon create a living example of the most balanced "work hard, play hard" you've ever seen. has a tendency to set high standards for himself and others & is a smidge more accepting when people fuck up, wanting to help them be better in the future. his emotions are often repressed in the name of responsibility but when he feels safe, he isn’t shy about them in the slightest. very confident in his skills & one of those that he’s the proudest of is his ability to cheer you up when you’re sad

din djarin: he is the most virgo virgo to ever virgo, a double whammy of it in both his sun & moon placements. very logical, disciplined, and tradition-oriented. knows how to bargain and budget, approaches problems with as little emotional attachment as he can (doesn't always work though), and is selfless af. needs something to keep him from being a worry wart bc otherwise he will spend every waking moment fretting over anything he can find. remarkably well-rounded & somehow the most emotionally stable

ezra: everything about this man radiates aquarius sun + gemini moon and you will never convinve me otherwise. he's just enough of an intellectual elitist (the big words and flowy shakespearian vocabulary) for it to border on unique and fun & annoying as fuck. every aquarian i've met has a quirk that sets them apart from everyone else & ezra's quirk (besides murder) is his vocabulary. it takes him a long time to learn to not talk over people on accident (sometimes he does on purpose just to be a bastard), but you can tell when he’s really trying to be conscious of it.

marcus moreno: now this man is what you call a pisces. a softie with a heart of gold that is constantly being underestimated, he has more power than most think. his silly and carefree nature detracts from the badassery he's capable of so it sometimes catches you off guard when he goes into Badass In Charge™️ mode but it’s there. his moon is also in pisces, which adds to his gentility and desire to be understood by his partner. this man just needs some love dammit, give it to him already!! his empathy makes him the Cool Dad™️ bc missy and literally any other kid get the vibe of “yeah this adult will actually listen to me and value my opinions”

dave: capricorn sun, aries moon. he thrives with people who can handle their own shit competency kink anyone? and doesn’t have patience with those who should know better. his standards are higher than a stoned giraffe, and is at his best in controlled environments. has a strong sense of self & a short list of people he would risk it all for. not as outwardly expressive but he does have a couple cues that you learn over time. also knows what he wants and is very meticulous in how he goes about getting it; there are very few places where he takes no for an answer. is a very good provider but don’t expect him to be mushy when you thank him for things he does for you.

oberyn martell: gemini sun & leo moon. he’s got more charisma than can fit in the ocean and sometimes it gets him into trouble. this man thrives on validation from loved ones. there is never a worry about not knowing what he’s feeling because oh boy is this man expressive. he’s a protector and a provider (and a gossip but don’t let him hear you say that). can and will cause a scene if there’s ample opportunity, he enjoys watching shit go down. will only interfere if it directly impacts him or someone he really cares about but otherwise will just pop the popcorn and pull up a seat. somehow has all the details of everything that ever happens but you learn to not question it.

pero tovar: scorpio sun (but specifically october scorpio) & aquarius moon. he’s highly rational when it comes to emotions but does have a temper. he’s observant af of his environment & the emotions of everyone around him, and chooses his actions carefully based on those. doesn’t confront his deeper emotions as often as he should bc it’s easier to default to Angy™️ and let the rest of the world come to their own assumptions. has no tolerance for lies and other bs, wants the truth and though it makes him seem power-hungry and manipulative, that’s not his intention. it’s just his way of looking for someone he can trust with the most intimate parts of him

marcus pike: this man? taurus sun, cancer moon. has a fear of abandonment that takes a while to quell but once it’s gone, he’s all in. he’s very empathetic and observant af, will know exactly what you need before you voice said need. will feel guilty for his baggage sometimes and the guilt will make him recluse for a short period until he’s reminded just how appreciated he is. does not play around when it comes to affection & is very eager to give and receive it whenever possible

my friends that i think might be interested: @scribbledghost @autumnleaves1991-blog @dyke--grayson @max--phillips @dindjarindiaries @pikemoreno @ohnopoe @pedropasscals @forever-rogue @engineeredfiction @bitchin-beskar

[karasuno-chaos]

Sweetie Pie (Kunimi x Reader)

While teasing Kunimi on your walk home from school, you deliver an ultimatum that might not be as imposing as it seems.

Word Count: 1,296

Masterlist

“Today will be the day!” you announce confidently as you step off Seijoh’s campus.

“For what?” Kindaichi asks as he falls into step beside you.

“Kunimi is finally going to ask me out.”

“No,” the boy in question says flatly.  He trails half a step behind you even though the sidewalk is wide enough for the three of you to walk side by side.

“Come on,” you encourage, “I’ll make it easy for you.  My answer is yes, I will date you Kunimi.”

“Why should we date?”

“Because we’re attracted to each other.”

“I’m attracted to pie but I don’t feel the need to date pie.”

“I’m much more fun to hang out with than pie.”

“You’re more annoying, that’s for sure.”

“More or less annoying than Oikawa?” Kindaichi interjects.  He’s used to your bickering, especially about your relationship or lack thereof.  It’s been a frequent topic of discussion on your walks home lately.

“It’s a toss up,” Kunimi grumbles.

“But you like Oikawa, so you must like me, too!” you proclaim.

“I never said I like Oikawa.”

You gasp dramatically, whipping around to face Kunimi in your best impression of the dramatic volleyball captain.

“Kunimi-kun, I feel betrayed!”

Kindaichi laughs.  Kunimi rolls his eyes, but there’s a grin pulling at his lips.  You turn back around and drop the act, pleased with your work.

“See?” you continue as you wait at the corner for your turn to cross the street.  “Pie wouldn’t be able to amuse you with spot-on impressions.”

“No,” he agrees, “but that’s not something that I find attractive.”

“But you do find me attractive,” you press.  You try and fill your voice with confidence, but there’s a hint of a question as you glance at him.  He meets your eyes, and you see something in his expression that makes your breath catch in anticipation, but then he shrugs and returns his gaze to the sidewalk.

“We wouldn’t be friends if I didn’t find you attractive.”

“Ooh, hear that Kindaichi?  Kunimi surrounds himself with attractive people.  How elitist!”

“Wait, does that mean you’re attracted to all of your friends?” Kindaichi asks somewhat nervously.

“There are more types of attraction than physical and romantic,” Kunimi replies firmly, almost too quickly.  It makes you chuckle.

“Don’t worry Kindaichi,” you say, patting your friend’s arm consolingly.  “I find you attractive.”

“U-um, thanks?” he stutters, blushing furiously.  He glances at Kunimi who has maintained a carefully neutral expression.

“I know,” you declare without acknowledging either of them, “if Kunimi doesn’t ask me out by the end of this week, then you can ask me out, Kindaichi.”

“What?” he splutters, blushing deeper.

“After that, I’ll open it up to anyone.”  You make your declaration like it’s the most natural thing in the world, but you study their reactions out of the corner of your eye.  While Kindaichi looks increasingly flustered, Kunimi maintains his neutral mask.  You try not to be disappointed.

“Are you that desperate to go on a date?” Kunimi asks.

“I just refuse to be kept waiting forever.”

“Patience is a virtue,” Kindaichi murmurs.  He’s still wrestling to get his blush under control, and you wonder briefly if maybe he does have a crush on you.

“Well it’s never been one of my better virtues.  But don’t worry, I have full confidence that Kunimi will muster the energy to get the job done.  He always steps up at the end of the game.”

“Who says this is a game I want to play?”

You look at him critically, but his neutral expression hasn’t shifted, and he’s avoiding meeting your eyes.

“I guess we’ll see at the end of the week,” you say.

Kindaichi hears something in your voice that has him glancing between you and Kunimi with concern, but you’ve reached the part of your walk home where you split ways.  He’ll talk to you later to make sure you’re okay.  You do your best to give him a reassuring smile.

“See you guys tomorrow,” he calls before turning away.  You watch him for a few steps before heading towards your own home with Kunimi beside you.

You walk the next block in silence.  You know it’d be faster for Kunimi to get home if he turned at the next block, but he crosses the street and continues walking with you.  It’s only an extra block and a half, but knowing how he’s normally so opposed to unnecessary effort, you are touched.

“I thought I had until the end of the month to officially ask you,” he murmurs, breaking the silence.

“Sorry,” you sigh.  “Like I said, patience isn’t my best virtue.”

“So I’m learning.”  He says it with the hint of a grin.  You quirk the corners of your lips in answer, but it’s not quite a smile.

“You’re okay with it, right?  I mean, you still want to-”

“Yes,” he says with uncharacteristic impatience.  You feel him lace his fingers with yours, and it’s reassuring.  Your smile is more genuine.  “Of course I want our relationship to be official.  I just wish I had you all to myself a little longer.”

You blush and hold his hand tighter.

“You’ve already had me to yourself for almost two months,” you tease.  “Someone’s going to find out soon anyways.  I think Kindaichi already suspects us.”

“I suppose even he would notice if his best friends started dating in secret.”

“He’s pretty emotionally intelligent,” you agree, remembering his questioning glances between you.  You also remember his flustered blushing.  “Do you think he has a crush on me?”

“Who, Kindaichi?”  Kunimi looks like he’s going to deny it, but then he begins seriously considering your question.  “Maybe a little.  It’s like I said, I doubt you’d be friends if you weren’t attracted to each other somehow.”

“And you’re okay with your partner and best friend being somehow attracted to each other?”

“Sure.  You wouldn’t be my partner if you weren’t more attracted to me.”

“True,” you laugh.  “Poor Kindaichi.  I hope he’s not too heartbroken.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Will you?” you ask as you stop in front of your house.

“Yeah.”  He exhales heavily but smiles at you.  “It’ll be a pain once the upperclassmen find out, but Iwaizumi will keep the teasing to a minimum.”

“They’re just a bunch of children.”

“Well you’re a bigger tease than them,” he says, “begging me to ask you out when we’re already dating.”

“I just want to be able to steal your food and sit next to you and maybe hold your hand without all of the secondhand whisperings and judgmental looks.”

“They probably won’t stop whispering and looking just because we make it public.”

“But they’ll get disinterested more quickly.  Plus we’ll stop having to come up with excuses for why we’re hanging out all the time.  This is actually the scenario that requires less effort.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”  You kiss his cheek.  You can’t help the light blush that colors your own cheeks as you do so.  You’ve been secretly dating for almost two months, but it still feels unbearably new.  “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he says, watching you walk to your front door.  You turn around before entering to smile at him.

“Remember, you have until the end of the week.”

“I know.”

“Don’t leave it until the last minute.”

“I know.”

“Talk to you later?”

“Of course.”

“Bye bye sweetie pie!”

Kunimi turns bright red as you slip inside, giggling to yourself.  He’ll be too flustered to talk to you for a while, but that will give him time to come up with an even cringier pet name for you.  And if he’s still embarrassed, you can blame the nickname on him.  He was the one who brought up pie earlier, after all.

[bondsmagii]

rlly sorry for asking this question since it probably annoys u but r u actually the kondraki?? like as in you made the character and stuff? found ur blog bc ive been growing an scp hyperfixation and i dont rlly wanna get into deep knowing from u its a hellhole and im also autistic so i genuinely cant tell if ur being serious,, im so sorry for asking if questions like these annoy you !!

on another note, do u know anything about gears author? (was the anon that asked u before if u were kondraki) i tend to hyperfixate onto certain characters/people and the one that my brain chose was gears,, i rlly wanna prevent myself from going into deep before knowing if hes a pos or not?? sorry again if these questions bother you

my usual response to questions like this is "I don't know what scp is lol" but considering this is a pretty serious ask I'll make an exception.

I've been around SCP in some capacity or another since it started, so well over a decade now. I'm no longer involved in any way and I try to avoid the place; I've not been directly involved for years now, and I don't tend to comment on anything unless in circumstances like these. in my extensive time Witnessing SCP, I have seen constant repeating behaviour that is not good at all. moderators and admins frequently misuse their power, there's a lot of elitist bullying, the whole place has extreme cult vibes that I've written extensive posts on before -- and I can absolutely 100% confirm that there's a long history of sexual grooming and abuse in the community. most, if not all, of the site staff know about this and actively cover it up. I have spoken to many victims who all confirm that this has happened, and despite the fact that I don't see eye to eye with some of them, I find their accounts credible and in line with what I know about the community and the staff members involved.

generally speaking, it's safer if you stay in the satellite fandom -- so Tumblr, groups on Discord, reading stuff on AO3, etc. it's also fine if you just read the articles and stories on the wiki. what you shouldn't do is join the site, participate in the IRC channels or any official groups -- the subreddit, any official Discord groups, etc -- and don't associate with staff wherever you can help it. so long as you avoid getting heavily involved with the official wiki community, you'll only come across the usual fandom drama.

as for Gears, he's a good guy. I've never heard anything bad about him, and I've always admired him. IRL he's a married father of three, and he left the wiki relatively early thanks to family obligations. he always believed strongly in the wiki and did his best to keep it on track and a decent place to be, and I think had he hung around a little longer things wouldn't have got so bad. he has a lot of passion for writing, loves his family, and to my knowledge has never been involved with any of the usual site bullshit.

[sk1fanfiction]

the many faces of tom riddle, part 2

 -you dislike frank dillane’s portrayal of tom riddle only because you don’t think he’s attractive-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION (and this time, featuring a bit of armchair child psych from a student).

Wait, don’t clutch your pearls just yet. Compose yourself.

I am about to explain why it’s not actually that bad, and Dillane’s portrayal is vastly underappreciated.

I definitely agree that his portrayal comes off as ‘creepier’. It’s not helped by the stylistic decisions in the scene -- the smeary, green filter gives the scene a sinister quality. 

Even Slughorn looks suspect here, which is somewhat appropriate, given that he is complicit in this crime. 

Again, this scene is very much intended to be slightly off.

You’ll notice (and I’ll discuss this again when I talk about Coulson’s portrayal) that Dillane is almost always shot from at least slightly below, which makes the lower third of his face look bigger (and thus more menacing). The lighting also makes his eyes glow in a really unnatural way. There’s an echo-y effect to make his voice (and not Slughorn’s) sound unnerving.

People talk about how Coulson would have looked in this scene, and if he was filmed in the same way (monotone, smeary/shadowy filter, and always from below), he’d look a bit creepy, too.

But all of this, imo, is for a pretty good reason. Slughorn isn’t the POV character. Harry is. Harry is learning about how a young Lord Voldemort wheedled the secret of Horcruxes out of an unsuspecting teacher. Unlike in COS, he expects Riddle to be evil. And, so, Harry’s new perception of Tom Riddle literally colors how we perceive him.

Take this shot, for example: he does that head-tilt thing that Coulson does, and it’s actually... kind of... cute???

Imagine Dillane filmed from slightly above, like Coulson usually is, and it looks even more innocent. (I mean, come on, he does not look like he’s killed four people, does he?) It’s not hard to imagine teachers being taken in by this kind of act.

Even that little smirk he does when the camera (aka, Harry’s gaze) pans in, is for Harry’s benefit. No one else noticed that. 

However, I still fail to find this creepy, like, at all. Yes, it’s a fake smile, but he’s portraying a different side of Tom Riddle to Coulson. Whereas, in COS, he’s in his vindictive, murderous element, where he’s free to express himself, in this scene, Tom Riddle is doing what he does best -- manipulating and managing appearances. 

This entire scene is an act. And because Harry knows it’s an act, it should look a bit stilted. 

From the Hepzibah Smith scene in the books: Voldemort smiled mechanically and Hepzibah simpered.

So, Harry is pretty adept at parsing Tom’s fake expressions.

But just look at the expressiveness in his face: he goes from brooding, he blinks, and his entire face changes to this charming (fake) smile. 

At the risk of sounding elitist, I’m a bit tired of seeing the word ‘psychopath’, which is not an actual medical diagnosis recognised by any psychological or psychiatric institution, being tossed about, especially with reference to Tom Riddle (and from a neuroscience perspective, it’s doubly annoying). There’s no such thing as ‘insanity’ or ‘psychopathy’ or being ‘crazy.’

-although I use it too a shorthand in conversation to distinguish ‘canon’ Tom from his ‘softer’ OOC counterparts, I really shouldn’t-

Unfortunately, I’ve seen the ‘psychopath’ comment used time-and-time again as an excuse or a full explanation of ‘why Tom Riddle went evil’ (JKR in fact, has made a weird comment in an interview, basically saying that ‘psychopaths can’t be redeemed or learn adaptive coping skills’ or whatever), which really just goes to show the lack of understanding and compassion when personality disorders, especially, are concerned.

But what I like most about the opening of this scene, actually, is that first, listless expression. And this is where we get slightly into headcanon, but Tom Riddle is the opposite of a happy, mentally healthy teenager. By Dumbledore’s own admission, he has no real friends. He has no parental figures, no real attachments. Yes, he might derive some pride or enjoyment from being good at magic and top of his class and all that, but I really don’t think even Tom finds that truly fulfilling. There is nothing that makes him happy. 

In fact, although some might perceive it as ‘creepy’, I think that listless expression is an accurate window into Tom’s psyche. 

I know people aren’t big on Freud, but I think that he does make some interesting points (also, cut the guy some slack for being relatively open-minded for the Victorian Era, and inventing psychoanalysis and while yes he did say some sexist stuff, good luck finding a field of science that isn’t male-focused and makes crazy generalizations about women, especially back in the day) about the possible origins of thanatophobia, the fear of death.

According to Freud, thanatophobia is a disguise for a deeper source of concern -- he did not believe that people were capable of conceptualizing their own death to that extent. Instead, he believed that this phobia was caused by unresolved childhood conflicts that the sufferer cannot come to terms with or express emotion towards.

Now, I know Freud almost always attributes mental distress to childhood experiences, but I think in this case, it really has some merit.

According to attachment theory, the basis of how we form attachments in adulthood is dictated by learning it from experiences with caregivers in the first two years of life. We know Tom was born in an orphanage, and that he didn’t cry much as a baby, and subsequently, probably received very little attention. Compounded with possible genetic factors and his caregivers being afraid or wary of his magical abilities, he later struggled to form attachments because of this -- I would actually go so far as to say that by the time Dumbledore meets him, Tom Riddle is severely depressed. 

And that flat affect and anhedonia, I think, comes over very well in Dillane’s portrayal. There’s kind of this resignation -- a very deep sadness and loneliness to his character.

Of course, he doesn’t derive any comfort or fulfillment from human interaction, because (to borrow the description from the Wikipedia article on ‘Reactive attachment disorder’, which Tom meets all the criteria for) he has a “grossly disturbed internal working model of relationships.” In other words, he is unresponsive to all offers of attachment because of this unacknowledged trauma.

(You could arguably class Tom as having an avoidant attachment style, but I think in his case the trauma and its effect on him are severe enough to call it disordered.)

RAD isn’t particularly well-characterized (especially neurologically) and quite new in the literature, but here are some links if anyone is interested in doing a bit of digging: Link 1 | Link 2 | Paper 1 | Paper 2

And, instead of trying to resolve this conflict in a healthy way, or at least recognize that this is why he can’t be happy and try to learn how to cope from there, he (a) represses the desire for human attachment and (b) funnels that negative emotion into being the fault of Death, the Grim Reaper (again, to borrow Freudian terms). 

And we all know how that turned out...

(And now, this should go without saying, but psychoanalyzing fictional characters has nothing to do with assigning a morality to mental disorders. Mental illness is neither a cause nor an excuse for criminal behavior -- in the same way that the cycle of violence is a phenomenon, not an excuse. Tom Riddle did not become a genocidal murderer because, in common parlance, he was a ‘psychopath’ -- he was not necessarily ‘predisposed’ to evil and could just as easily chosen to not follow the path that he did -- instead, he willingly made poor choices. This is a descriptive analysis, not a justification -- a ‘how’, not a ‘why’)

Here’s a Carl Jung quote that articulates it better:

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

Yes, he’s a bit stiff (and a lot more formal than in COS during his *conversation* with Harry). But, and here comes the controversial bit, this is appropriate for a portrayal of a schoolboy in the 1940s. The upright posture is accurate -- respectful, polite -- everything Tom Riddle would have been expected to be (and even Coulson, in that scene with Dumbledore in COS, is quite stiff). Even the way he looks at Slughorn and maintains eye contact is very *respectful.*

And, Dillane (I think he’s seventeen or eighteen here) actually looks like a believable sixteen-year-old. I’m sorry, I love Coulson’s portrayal as well, but he looks around nineteen in COS; so in HBP, he probably would have looked at least twenty-two or so. (Sorry, not sorry).

This may be influenced by my own interpretation of the character (because I imagine Tom always looks young for his age, and Dillane fits that archetype, but I don’t think that’s very popular), but I think young Tom Riddle is supposed to be *cute* and a bit stiff/shy/awkward (being charming and awkward is very much possible), if you consider the way Dippet and Slughorn treat him. 

To support this, he says very few words to Hepzibah Smith (in the book, that scene’s not in the movie), and is very... bashful and coy during the whole interaction? I think yes, he’s charismatic, but he’s not loud, suave, openly flirtatious or particularly verbose. Tom Riddle should have a quiet magnetism, and to me, that came across in Dillane’s portrayal.

"I'd be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me," said Voldemort quietly, and Hepzibah gave another girlish giggle.

...

"Are you all right, dear?"

"Oh yes," said Voldemort quietly. "Yes, I'm very well. ..."

Even the ‘ugly, greedy look’ described in the books, when Slughorn starts spilling his secrets, is there. This is how he’s supposed to look! Slughorn glimpses it, but doesn’t understand its significance. Harry does. 

“Slughorn looked deeply troubled now: He was gazing at Riddle as though he had never seen him plainly before, and Harry could tell that he was regretting entering into the conversation at all.”

Remember the context of this moment, as well: He’s just discovered how to create multiple Horcruxes. Excuse him for looking a bit creepy (if not now, then when?).

Here’s two direct quotes of Harry’s impression of Tom Riddle in that scene: 

“But Riddle's hunger was now apparent; his expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his longing.”

“Harry had glimpsed his face, which was full of that same wild happiness it had worn when he had first found out that he was a wizard, the sort of happiness that did not enhance his handsome features, but made them, somehow, less human. . . .”

Tom Riddle’s Horcruxes are a direct metaphor for his refusal to allow himself to heal from his trauma -- instead, he continues to inflict destruction on himself and others.

His desire to continue creating more Horcruxes sort of resounds with the fact that self-harm can also become a compulsion.

I’d also like to digress a bit to discuss the Gaunt Ring, while we’re at it. While we’ve talked about his attachment issues in general, this discussion is particularly pertinent to father figures. And while Tom’s attachment issues are extensive, I think there’s ample evidence that as a child, he craved acknowledgement and acceptance from a father figure -- the man who gave him the only thing Tom truly owned -- his name. He would have had a vaguely defined mother figure in Mrs. Cole, perhaps.

"You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was.... He didn’t like magic, my father ... He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage ... but I vowed to find him ... I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name ... Tom Riddle. ..."

We know that by June of 1943 (COS flashback) Tom has already uncovered the truth of his parentage; he knows he is the Heir of Slytherin via the Gaunt line, and he describes himself to Dippet as ‘Half-blood, sir. Witch mother, Muggle father.’

In Part 1, I discussed the high probability that as a presumed ‘Mudblood’, Tom Riddle was treated rather poorly in Slytherin House. But by this scene in the fall of 1943, he is surrounded by a group of adoring hangers-on. Why?

In my opinion; the Gaunt Ring. We know that Tom stopped wearing it after school, so its sentimental value couldn’t have been that great. We know he likes to collect objects (which I believe stems from his attachment issues -- he seeks comfort in things instead of other people).

Signet rings (such as the one belonging to Tutankhamun seen above) were used to stamp legal documents and such, in order to certify someone’s identify -- like an e-certificate, if you will. Like Tutankhamun’s ring, the Gaunt Ring bears an identifying symbol -- Marvolo Gaunt tells us proudly that it bears the Peverell family crest.

By the Middle Ages, anyone of influence, including the nobility, wore a signet ring. Rings in antiquity were auspicious -- they signified power, legitimacy, and authority. And so, I believe that all the Sacred Twenty-Eight families would have worn these, too.

And so, bearing the Gaunt Ring would have established Tom Riddle, symbolically and in the eyes of the Sacred Twenty-Eight (his future supporters and followers), as the legitimate heir to the House of Gaunt. This is why, I believe, Tom coveted the ring as soon as he saw it -- not just because it was a family heirloom, and not just because he thought it was a pretty toy for his collection.

(He curses it so that no one else but him can wear the Gaunt Ring safely.)

This is why, to make the legitimization literal as well as symbolic, Tom murders his father and grandparents. It’s not just an act of vindictive, murderous rage due to his perception of being rejected by his father (although it is that, too). And so, Tom, abandoning his search for a father figure (and possibly also giving up on the possibility to allow himself to heal from his own personal trauma rather than continue to inflict it on others), ‘cleanses’ his bloodline, to make himself truly legitimate. It’s rather telling that instead of affirming his legitimacy as a Riddle, which would have put him in line for a nice inheritance, and hey -- money is money -- (thus accepting his half-blood status), he simply kills them all. He has done all the murdering he needs to become immortal (and he hasn’t had the discussion about multiple Horcruxes yet); but yet, he does it again. Frightening stuff. 

(Just look how the others look at Tom. All but the one to his left -- possibly Nott, Rosier, or Mulciber -- have their torsos turned towards him. Their attention is on him, while he knowingly regards the viewer/Harry. Tom seems a little uncomfortable with the attention.).

“And there were the half-dozen teenage boys sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them, Marvolo's gold-and-black ring gleaming on his finger.”

...

“Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.”

...

“Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as their leader.”

The ‘gang’ are true hangers-on; Tom doesn’t seem to pay them much attention. 

So, if not via careful flattery or charisma, the attraction must be status.

And perhaps yet more telling...

"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," he said when the laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing." “A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Harry was sure they were enjoying a private joke, undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader's famous ancestor.”

That, in my opinion, is as good as we’re going to get as proof that Tom’s shiny new signet ring (and by extension, his new status) made a big impression on his fellow students.

So, when he returns to Hogwarts, he is ‘pureblood’. He is cleansed of his Muggle roots, and becomes the legitimate heir of the House of Gaunt, now well on his way to becoming Lord Voldemort...

Watch the scene again, with a critical eye, and imagine Slughorn’s perspective, instead of Harry’s. There’s nothing creepy about Tom Riddle... unless you know what he is...

Strip away all the effects of Harry’s gaze (and notice, here he’s still looking at Harry), and he’s quite the charmer, actually.

(I will concede that I don’t like the promotional images where they have him looking like he’s up to no good. And I do wish he blinked once in a while.)

My challenge to you: Rewatch the scene with an open mind, and let me know if you agree that Dillane’s portrayal comes off as depressive rather than ‘creepy.’ And if not, why do you dislike his portrayal?

[ashliinks]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖙'𝖘 𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 | 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖋𝖔𝖞

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰             7.9𝔨 

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢              𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔱, 𝔣𝔩𝔲𝔣𝔣 

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤(𝔰)      𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢

𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘 𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖌𝖔𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊 - 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖑𝖞 𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖘

Growing up in a wealthy Pureblood family, you had never longed for anything. Your parents gifted you anything that your heart desired within the drop of a wand. Fanciful flouting of your wealth was always left to your parents, for you had grown to hate the way they looked down upon anyone who was not on the same social status as them. It wasn’t until the reawakening of Voldemort at the Triwizard Tournament, that you finally understood where your parents’ elitist views came from. They were Death Eaters.

You hated them for it. But you had nowhere to go, you were only fourteen, so your only choice was to remain by their side. 

Life had never been the same after that. After countless meetings with various wizarding criminals and famous Death Eaters, you started to withdraw into yourself. The bright, vibrant girl that your classmates had grown to love had disappeared by the beginning of your fifth year at Hogwarts. Depression and fear plagued your every waking moment. 

You tried your best to do right by the classmates that had been affected by Voldemort. Always chatting to Neville when you got the chance, not wanting him to feel ignored and invisible as some of the other students did. Consoling Cho after the death of Cedric at the Death Eater’s hand. And finally, trying to be there for Harry. He didn’t really appreciate your support. Your parents being there the night Cedric died. 

The only person you had sought comfort in was your boyfriend. Draco. You were very well aware of his own family being very involved in the support of Voldemort. He was the only one who understood the pressures you were under. Your family and his were both on equal status in regards to Voldemort's loyal followers. The more dark responsibilities Draco was forced to take on, the more you did too. 

It wasn’t fair. You were just kids. He would often sneak his way into your dorm at night to comfort you, your body shaking with silent sobs at the things you had seen. When you were at home at Draco could only visit sparsely, the only friend you had was the Augurey you had grown up with. Long since had the superstition faded, that an Augurey’s cry foretold death. For the bird would have cried over and over again with the amount of death that surrounded your family. 

Right now, everything was freezing. You were sat in the bathtub, legs pulled up and tucked into your chest as ice cold water poured down on you from the shower-head. The cold soaked its way through to your bones as the world around you seemed to fade out of existence. It helped numb the pain you were feeling in your body. And for once your body felt as numb as your heart did. 

The far off sound of banging echoed faintly in your ears, at first you just thought it was the pipes. But as the bangs got louder and faster your head lifted from where it was resting upon your knees. The banging had stopped for a moment, before the bathroom door came barreling off of its hinges in a blast. Small pieces of wood splintering across the tiled floor. 

You didn’t even flinch.

Muffled voices filled the room as bodies came in and out. Soon you were left with just one figure. They pulled open a cupboard, taking something out from inside. Then you were being lifted out of the tub softly, recalling the way the waterfall of ice had disappeared from your skin. You felt something soft and fluffy touch your skin, which had finally managed to snap you out of the trance you were in.

Looking up, you came face to face with the grey eyes of your boyfriend. “Draco,” You whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. 

“I got you, don’t worry,” His voice was barely above a whisper as he took another towel and began to pat down your wait face. Your eyes and cheeks swollen from the crying.  “Pansy said you’ve been in here for over an hour,”

“Has it only been that long? I thought I had been here longer,” You murmured, leaning into his touch. 

He let out a small disgruntled noise at the confession. He ignored Pansy as she popped her head around the door, passing him a handful of your clothes so he could dress you. 

“Snape is going to kill you,” You looked at the broken green door that lay discarded on the black and white tile. Draco scoffed for a moment. As if he could care about anything Snape had to say right now, when he had just saved his girlfriend from voluntarily freezing herself to death. 

He had known how hard it had been for you recently. You parents had finally forced you to take the Dark Mark. He knew how unbearable that weight was, having received his a few months prior. It felt like an overwhelming weight pressing down on your chest. Making it hard to breathe, to think, to do anything without having that burning ache within your lungs. 

He hated himself for not being able to be there for you.

You were one of the only people he had ever loved. The other being his mother. He thought he loved his father, but after looking back over the years and years of quiet abuse, he realised it was never really love. He was never loved by his father. But his mother would bend the world for him, and he almost hated her for it. She thought that the Death Eater lifestyle would help pave a better future for her boy, but in reality it was pushing him closer and closer to his own death. 

You watched absentmindedly as Draco ran the soft towel over your arms, the white fabric brushing over the inky markings etched onto your forearm. He was so gentle. If only everyone could see him in this moment, if only everyone could see that Draco Malfoy wasn’t really the dark and mysterious figure he showed to the world. He wasn’t as big and bad as he appeared. He was just trying to uphold the Malfoy reputation. You knew how desperately he wanted to be friends with Harry Potter on his first day at Hogwarts, but his parents’ overbearing slander of the Weasley’s had clouded his morals.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, looking up at the boy.

“You have nothing to be sorry for love,” He replied, placing the towel on the counter and pulling you close, pressing a small kiss to your forehead. “Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

He was so delicate as he helped you get into some warmer clothes, almost like if he held you too hard you would shatter. He let you wear one of his Slytherin hoodies, he didn’t even care if you stole this one too. You just loved his hoodies, they always smelt like him. The expensive cologne, peppermint and crisp green apples. Funnily enough, it's exactly what amortentia smelt like to you too. 

As he pulled the pair of you underneath the silken duvet, he thought to himself how in the world you two were going to get through this. He knew that the months that followed were going to be the hardest for you. He knew that whatever happened though, the two of you would go through it together. 

“They want me to kill him Y/N.” 

You froze at his words, taking them in for a moment. The pair of you were currently huddled inside the Room of Requirement, you had chosen this as the one place to meet up to talk about everything going on outside the walls of Hogwarts. 

“They can’t be serious?” You questioned, spinning around to look at Draco.

“With Dumbledore dead, the dominoes will start to fall. They’ll take the Ministry next,” His words made you freeze once more. If Voldemort took the Ministry then that means your parents will be gone most of the time. They were already strong voices in the Ministry, but with Voldemort commanding the inner workings it meant that your parents would be constantly working. You wondered if they were going to tell you, or if they were just going to leave you on your own. 

“There’s been arrangements made for you to come and stay with us though,” Draco seemed to know what you were thinking. “The Manor is going to be the main headquarters for Death Eaters anyway, it only made sense. My mother and father were easily convinced,” He gave you a weak smile. At least through all of this Draco wouldn’t abandon you...right?

You raced through the halls at the sounds of explosions and yelling, students were scattering out of the way for you as you neared the bathrooms. You watched him race out of the Great Hall as soon as his eyes had landed on Katie Bell. She had finally recovered from that cursed necklace Draco had given her to pass on to Dumbledore. He hated himself for that too. She was innocent, she had never done anything to hurt anyone in her entire life. Draco only wanted to get the job done quickly. 

You heard a few clashes and the sounds of running water as you broke through the door of the bathrooms. Water coated the floors, making the bottom of your robes soggy. Looking around the room for a moment, you saw him. Lying in the water, blood running from his chest, his arms, everywhere. Your heart lurched into your throat at the sight of him. You didn’t think twice before shoving Harry to one side, coming to kneel next to Draco. Panic coursing through your veins. 

“What have you done to him?!” You yelled out, tears beginning to stream down your face, hearing the pained whimpers of the boy below you. Harry was silent, he looked like he was in shock himself. You paused for a moment, letting out a shaky breath you placed your hands over Draco’s chest. You had been slowly mastering the art of Wandless Magic. It had taken a bit of work, but you had shown a natural talent in the ability.

“Vulnera Sanentur...Vulnera Sanentur...Vulnera Sanentur,” You whispered over and over, hoping the spell would work. You looked down, noticing the blood was starting to recede in the water, trailing back towards Draco, but it was slow, sluggish. 

“Come on,” You pleaded in between chants. It was only when Snape arrived and had joined you in the chant that Draco’s blood had begun to return to his body much faster. You looked up at your professor, and he nodded in understanding at you. He didn’t need to say anything, you already knew. Whatever the Dark Lord was planning was coming, and it was coming fast. 

The summer air was cool on that night, the moon held high in the cloudy sky as you and Draco snuck through the corridors of the castle, making sure not to be seen by anyone. The pair of you had already set the plan into motion. The sinking feeling had begun. 

As you neared closer and closer to the astronomy tower that night, you remember the tightness of which you held each other's hands. Afraid that if any looser, you two would lose one and other. “You should wait here,” Draco whispered, pausing just outside the door. 

“Draco,” You paused, reaching your hands up and taking his face between them. “You go, I go.” He took in your words, weighing them up in his mind before he nodded, taking your hand in his once more. It was almost cruel of you, he thought to himself. To look so beautiful on a night like this. The black and green plaid skirt you were wearing swung softly as you walked, grazing the tops of your knees like a gentle caress. The simple black turtleneck you wore matched his, it perfectly hugged your body as he so longed to. And you were wearing one of his old blazers, the material looking slightly worn and battered. But it was effortlessly beautiful on you. 

The climb up those rickety stairs that night seemed to take forever. With each step your heart beat increased, speeding up until it felt like it would explode out of your chest. As you got closer to the main deck, you heard hushed whispers from above, tugging Draco’s arm for a moment you wondered if the pair of you should retreat. He took a moment to listen, only hearing one voice before deciding to continue. 

Climbing the last two steps, you held your breath. Eyes coming to land on your headmaster stood waiting, patiently. His dark grey robes blowing in the breeze along with his long wisps of silver hair. The man looked over at Draco, and then to you. His face sinking at the sight of you both. 

“Good evening Draco, Y/N.” Draco already had his wand drawn, aimed pointedly at the man before you. He scanned the room for a second, noticing the absence of anyone else.  “What brings you here on this fine evening?”

“Who else is here? I heard you talking.”

“I often talk aloud to myself, I find it extraordinarily useful. Have you been whispering to yourself Draco?” Dumbledore asked, pacing around the deck slowly. “Draco, Y/N; you are no assassins,” He tried reasoning, you looked away from him in guilt. You couldn’t bear it anymore. 

“How do you know what I am? I’ve done things that would shock you!” Draco exclaimed, growing more visibly upset each moment that passed. 

“Like cursing Katie Bell in hoping that in return she would bear a cursed necklace to me? Like replacing a bottle of mead with one laced with poison?” He listed off, you had known about the necklace but not about the poison. It made you look at your boyfriend for a moment, but you supposed being poisoned may have been a much better fate than the one the headmaster was about to be dealt.

“Forgive me Draco, but I can’t help feeling these actions are so weak that your heart can’t really have been in them. And Miss Y/L/N, such a clever young woman monitoring every movement made by the Army,” That felt like a punch to the gut. You had joined Dumbledore’s Army last year, not really in hopes of spying on your fellow classmates, but because you agreed on the notion that you needed to learn how to protect yourselves.

Umbridge and the Ministry were adamant that Voldemort was not back, but you and Draco knew different. Of course they would never have let Draco join, they were dubious of you at first. But your long standing friendships with many of them reassured that although your parents were the enemy, you could be trusted. And you could. Not a word about their actions breathed past your lips. But they wouldn’t see it that way when they found out. 

“We were chosen,” You whispered, lifting up your sleeve slowly to reveal your own dark mark. Dumbledore looked down slowly, his face full of regret. He almost wished he had been able to help the pair of you sooner, try and save you from your parents’ clutches. 

“I shall make it easy for you,” Dumbledore whispered, lifting up his hands in surrender. Draco quickly disarmed him, sending his wand flying across the room. You gripped onto the back of his blazer in fear. “Very good,” He smiled, almost proud of Draco’s fast actions. In the next moment, you heard the door to the astronomy tower open, and by the look on Dumbledore’s face, he heard it too.

“You’re not alone,” He pointed out. “How?”

“The vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement,” You revealed, your soft voice being carried through the gentle breeze. Your voice helped to calm Draco, his shaking hand steadying slightly. “I-I’ve been mending it,”

“Let me guess. It has a sister, a twin?”

“In Borgin and Burke’s, they form a passage,” Draco finished off. Gaze flicking from the stairs to Dumbledore repeatedly. 

“Draco, years ago I knew a boy that made all the wrong choices, please...let me help you both,” Dumbledore pleaded, you were almost convinced to take him up on the offer, but you knew Draco wouldn’t. He was too scared as to what would happen to his parents should he leave. That, and the rushing sounds of footsteps drawing closer and closer began to unnerve him.

“We don’t want your help!” Draco shouted, his wand wavering as he continued to lose his composure. “You don’t understand. We have to do this. I have to kill you, or he’s going to kill me. I have to kill you, or he’s going to kill her,” Draco repeated, making the point that he wasn’t only following through with this to save himself and his family, but also you. He would never be able to live with himself if something happened to you because he didn’t do as he was told. 

The footsteps finally came to a stop, making you look over in their direction. There you could see them, Bellatrix Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback, Corban Yaxley and The Carrows. You felt your skin crawl at the sight of them. You watched as Draco straightened out his arm, not wanting to show the Death Eaters that joined that he was wavering. Bella couldn’t help the smirk that stretched across her face at the sight of Dumbledore being held against a wand. 

She stalked towards you slowly, keeping her eyes trained on the headmaster. “Well done Draco,” She whispered, bending over slightly into Draco’s ear. “Do it!” She hissed.

“He doesn’t have the stomach,” Fenrir spat, making you glare at him. “He’s just like his father, let me finish him off in my own way.”

“No! The Dark Lord was clear, the boy is to do it!” Whilst the two were busy bickering over who would do the deed, your grip on Draco tightened. 

“Draco we don’t have to do this,” You whispered, not being heard by Bellatrix over Fenrir’s whining and gloating. 

“Go on Draco...NOW!”

“He’s a coward.”

“Draco?” You whispered again, chaos erupting on the top of the deck.

“No.” A voice cut off from behind all of you. Spinning around you saw the tall figure of Professor Snape, coming to stand at the side of you. Draco lowered his wand at the sight of Snape, instantly being calmed at the thought of him not having to actually commit. You took the sleeve of your love and pulled him out of the way, the pair of you slowly edging backwards as Snape and Dumbledore locked eyes. From where you stood, you could see Bellatrix glaring at the Slytherin professor, hating every moment he was there. 

“Severus,” Dumbledore called from where he stood, gazing upon the man he trusted. “Please.”

You held your breath for what was to come next. Snape took a step forward, his wand held tightly within his hand. His arm lurched forward, waving in the air swiftly and landing on Dumbledore. “Avada Kedavra.” His tone stern as a flash of green blinded you for a moment, the sound of the curse expelling from his wand created a thundering sound, a sound so strong you could almost feel it in your bones. 

You tucked your head into Draco’s shoulder, not wanting to watch the life drop from Dumbledore’s eyes just before he slipped off of the edge of the tower. His limp body falling hundreds of feet down onto the ground of the courtyard that lay below the school. You could hear Bellatrix yell out in glee, and you were almost certain she had already cast the dark mark into the sky. 

You looked up for a moment to see Snape ushering you and Draco back out down the stairs so you could leave before everyone found you. Draco took your hand and the pair of you started running down the stairs, not looking back for a moment, knowing Snape was right behind you. 

At some point through the castle, Snape had overtaken you, leading you through the Great Hall. Bellatrix had decided to pounce onto the tables, kicking off plates and cups in glee before casting a spell and making all of the windows shatter in a forceful explosion. You and Draco could only watch in terror. 

Your school. The place you had grown up together. Slowly turning into a battlefield.

You walked through the halls of Malfoy Manor, being sure to keep your footsteps as quiet as possible. Mr Malfoy had grown quite reliant on alcohol these days, and he was very easily irritated. Stepping through into the main room of the manor you spotted Draco stood leaning against the fireplace. The pair of you looked like shells of the people you used to be.

You didn’t sleep, you didn’t eat. And you in particular had been taking many more icy showers than usual. Draco was scared that you might be slipping away from him, he couldn’t lose you. He had noticed how you had been retreating into yourself again. He noted the sullen look on your face as you approached. He also noticed the way you were constantly losing weight, the stress and fasting eating away at you. 

“No matter what goes on, there isn’t a day that goes by where you don’t look absolutely breathtaking,” Draco whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. You gave him a soft smile, your hands grazing against one another softly before you interlocked them. The nights you had spent away from your home had been ones filled with fear. Death Eaters coming in and out of the manor had become a daily occurrence. Bellatrix had taken up permanent residence here since her escape from Azkaban, making you feel wary of even breathing incorrectly. 

Narcissa had come to take a liking to you. Objectively, there was nothing to dislike. You were a Pureblood Slytherin, coming from a long line of loyal Death Eaters. And the prospect of you and Draco possibly giving her little grandbabies was one that she used to try and get herself through the days. The thought of hope after so much darkness. 

“Draco,” You started, your voice quivering slightly. “What are we still doing here? We should go, just the two of us. You and me, we could run away to anywhere. They wouldn’t find us.”

“Y/N I-”

“What was that you little wretch?!” You heard a scream as fingers laced through the back of your hair, gripping tightly and dragging you to the floor. You let out a small yelp in pain as you were cast to the ground, looking up to be met by the gaze of Bellatrix.

“You dare to try and convince Draco to leave! He would never betray the Dark Lord, unlike you,” She continued yelling, sending kicks to your side making you wheeze and cough as the air was continuously knocked from your lungs. 

From that point on you lived mainly in the cellar of the manor. Only really being let out as you were Bellatrix’s new play thing. She enjoyed tormenting you every now and then. The threat of death, torture, fire, snakes. Everything and anything she could, all to see you squirm. It was all threats at first, until she started getting physical.

Not once had you blamed Draco. 

He tried to come and see you most days. But his father would often catch and berate him, not wanting his son to have anything to do with a traitor. As the weeks passed you were slowly joined by others in the cellar. At first it was Mr Ollivander from the wand shop, you two had reminisced about the day you received your wand at his store. It had been a wondrous day for the pair of you, for Mr Ollivander had only sold one other phoenix feather core wand that day. And that had been none other than Harry Potter himself.

Next was Griphook, a goblin formerly of Gringotts. You hadn’t spoken much to him, he usually kept to himself and did not wish to partake into conversation with wizards. However, when Luna arrived she seemed to win him over somewhat. 

You had poured your heart out to the unconventional Ravenclaw. Telling her all about what had really been happening. She had sympathised with you, comforting you in your moments of emotional breaks. She had informed you that when the school heard of you and Malfoy’s involvement with Dumbledore’s death, many had turned against you; especially those who were a part of Dumbledore’s Army. 

The next few days in the cellar had been relatively quiet, Wormtail bringing you small scraps of food. You had volunteered to give your ration over to Mr Ollivander, he was starting to look quite sickly after being kept here for so long. You just ignored the hunger cramps, hoping that all of you would be out of here soon.

You had been trying to get some sleep, your body curled up on the cold concrete of the cellar. You couldn’t help but shiver, curling into yourself more to try and keep some warmth, to no avail. You could hear shouts and yells from upstairs, but you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. It wasn’t until the sound of things dropping to the floor did you sit up. You hoped that someone, anyone, had come to get you. But you sighed at the thought. No one wants anything to do with you. Your parent’s had pretty much disowned you when they heard what had happened, and everyone at Hogwarts hated you.  

You heard a flurry of footsteps, and you were instantly brought back to that night. The sound of people running downstairs paired with the sound of your own heart thrumming within your ears. Because of the dim lighting in the cellar, you could only really see the silhouette of the figures descending. It was Wormtail, you shouldn’t have been surprised. The lumpy body of the man being one you had grown used to seeing. He was pushing two others forwards. 

The iron wrought door to the cellar swung open with a flick of his wand, and he was quickly throwing the pair to the floor, locking the door and retreating back upstairs. The two figures grunted and groaned as they pulled themselves up off of the floor. You scooted back, leaning against the concrete wall and pulling yourself up too. You watched them for a moment, waiting for some sort of sign as to who they was.

“What are we going to do? We can’t leave Hermoine alone with her,” One of the figures asked the other. Your heart sped up inside your chest at the sound of his voice. It was a voice you had heard so many times over the past few years, and one that you were happy to hear but scared to at the same time.

“Ron?” You called out, stepping into the faint light. “Harry?” You asked, you weren't too sure whether the other figure was indeed the Potter boy. But Harry, Ron and Hermoine were very much like you and Draco. You never went anywhere without the other. 

“Y/N?” He asked back, Ron pulled something out of his pocket and suddenly the room was flooded with light, allowing the boys to confirm it was you. They were shocked when they saw you. The proud, young Slytherin they had shared a classroom with for most of their formative years, was not the woman who stood before them. From the patches of skin they could see, they were laced with bruises and cuts. Your face was a little more sunken than usual, an obvious sign of your malnutrition and sleep deprivation. 

“What happened to you?” Ron had asked, Harry’s eyes were cast towards your own in judgement. He hated you.

“I didn’t want to do it,” Your voice broke slightly, tears springing to your eyes. “Me and Draco, we didn’t have a choice. He was going to kill us and our families. Even if I didn’t do it, Draco would have to protect me. I’ve been trying to get him to leave, but Bellatrix found out and she, she…” You rushed out, choking on your own tears before trailing off. You didn’t want to tell them the things she had done to you. You didn’t really want to tell anyone. 

You flinched back when you felt someone touch your arm. Looking to the side, you saw Luna. She nodded to the boys, backing you up. Harry strode over to you and you backed away for a second until he threw his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into him. You froze at the feeling, not being used to any form of contact without pain. 

“I’m sorry, you don’t deserve this,” He whispered into your ear. And that was when you broke, sobbing into his shoulder. You only broke away when you heard screams coming from upstairs. You shivered at the sound of it, knowing exactly the sort of pain Hermoine would currently be feeling. 

Wormtail came running down the stairs in the next moment, “Y/L/N, Goblin.” He called for you and Griphook. You shook your head backing away from the door. “NOW!” He yelled.

“Please, not again,” You whispered. Wormtail drew his wand and you shrunk back into yourself, letting go of Harry and following Griphook towards the door. As you were led back up into the Manor you could hear Hermoine’s screams grow louder and louder before they came to a stop. Coming to the bottom of the stairs to the main lounge, you spotted the body of one of the Snatchers. Shit. 

Wormtail pushed you forward into the room, meeting the stares of the Malfoys and Bellatrix. From the corner of you eye you could see Draco cowering just by the fireplace. The things he must have seen. His eyes met yours and you could see the tears roll down his cheeks at the sight of what his family had done to you. He was never there for your torture sessions with Bellatrix. 

You think she knew deep down, that the moment he saw what she did to you that he would give it all up. You were the only thing he cared about anymore. He knew that his mother and father would be shielded no matter what his actions would be, but you? He knew you were all alone, and it made him feel sick that he couldn’t be the one to protect you. 

You averted your gaze, not wanting to be punished for looking at him. You saw Hermoine laying limply on the floor and if it wasn’t for her shallow breaths every few moments, you would have thought she was dead. Bellatrix’s attention turned to you and the goblin beside you. You watched warily as she flipped a dagger around in her hands, seemingly enjoying toying with such a dangerous object. 

“Goblin,” She commanded, making Griphook step forward. “Now I want you to think very, very carefully. Who got into my vault!” She yelled, gesturing over to the side where the sword of Gryffindor lay.

“I don’t know.” Griphook answered, his tone never wavering. “There is nowhere safer than Gringott’s,”

“LIAR!” She screamed once more, cutting the goblin’s cheek with the knife. The sudden yell made you jump, that was a mistake. Her attention was instantly drawn to you, a sickening smirk spreading across her thin lips.

“I suppose you were in on it wasn’t you? Traitor,” She spat, you shook your head, stepping backwards in fear.

“No, I-I didn’t-” You were cut off when she pulled out her wand, flicking it over to you. Excruciating pain wracking through your body making you fall to the ground. Your body twisting and curling in on itself trying desperately to escape the pain. But it only seemed to get worse as Bellatrix’s cackles grew louder and louder in your ears. You felt yourself screaming in agony, although you could not hear it. The pain was unbearable. It was like having every single bone in your body broken and then having them puncture your body repeatedly. 

Draco could almost feel the pain emanating from you as you screamed out in agony. His hands shaking violently by his sides. He couldn’t take it anymore, watching the love of his life be tortured by his own aunt. But he was still just a scared boy. But right now, he needed to be the man you needed. 

“Stop!” He yelled, striding over to Bellatrix. She didn’t listen at first, thinking the boy must have been talking to someone else. “Just stop it will you!” He shouted again, forcefully pushing Bella’s arm away from you. She lurched slightly, taking in what he had done, she slowly turned around to face him, flicking her hair to the side with a shake of her head. 

“Enough.” Draco spat at the woman. She glared at him, but knew he was ultimately untouchable. He was the Dark Lord’s Chosen One. She couldn’t do anything to him. He turned around, a fleeting smirk present on his lips as he walked away. Kneeling beside your panting body, he easily scooped you up into his arms, taking you over to the otherside of the room. 

“I can stand,” You whispered to him, looking up at the boy. He nodded softly, setting your feet down onto the ground. Your legs wobbled, aching from the onslaught you had just suffered. “Thank you,” You didn’t need to thank him, Draco would save you time and time again. No matter the cost. 

“You may be able to protect your darling little wretch Draco,” Bellatrix started, beginning to pace the floor in anger, immediately setting off your anxiety. “But the same can’t be said for this one,” She said, gesturing over to Hermoine as she lay on  the floor.

And with that one statement, the lounge had exploded into chaos. Harry and Ron had somehow managed to escape from the cellar, Ron had even managed to acquire a wand. They had managed to disarm Bellatrix, and a flurry of spells were whipped around the room between Harry, Ron and Narcissa. Mr Malfoy had promptly been launched across the room, keeping him out of the action. Draco kept you held firmly behind himself to protect you. Ron and Harry had the numbers advantage, but that was all taken away as soon as Bellatrix had gripped Hermoine up off of the floor, blade pressed to her throat. 

Harry and Ron dropped their wands in surrender, terrified of losing Hermoine. You felt Draco push something back into your hand, upon looking down you instantly recognised your wand. God, you had missed it. You looked up to meet his eyes, and he nodded up towards the ceiling. Furrowing your brows for a moment, you glanced up at the chandelier noticing a small body sat atop the crystal, loosening the screws that held it to the ceiling. 

“Dobby?” You asked, looking at Draco, he nodded in return gripping your hand in his. You took his hand, smiling to yourself at the feeling you had missed so much. Grasping the wooden handle of your wand, you felt a rush of power surge through you, and suddenly you were back on top of the world. All you needed was the wand in your right hand, and the man in your left. 

The chandelier dropped, forcing Bellatrix to let go of Hermoine to run to safety. The Gryffindor girl taking the opportunity to lurch forward towards her friends, Ron catching her effortlessly. You and Draco slowly moved over to join the group, standing in front of them protectively.

“How dare you stand there!” Bellatrix screamed, snatching up Lucius’ wand and flinging a curse towards you all. You easily blocked the spell, a flash of white encasing the room at the action. The Malfoy’s had heard rumours of your skills in combat, but they never thought they would experience them from this end of the wand. 

“Just you wait girly, I am going to relish the day I can make your death as painful as possible.”

“Well I guess you’ll have to wait a little longer I’m afraid,” You snapped back, Harry’s hand clamping down on your shoulder as Dobby teleported your group out of the Manor to god knows where. The shrill screams of Bellatrix and Narcissa’s cries for her son fading away into the void.

Some people survive chaos and that is how they grow. And some people thrive in chaos because chaos is all they know. As Draco stood beside you on the battlefield, the crumbling remains of Hogwarts lay beneath your feet, he could not help but fall even further in his irrevocable love for you. Because in this crazy world of yours, full of change and chaos, there is one thing Draco was certain of. His love for you. 

The pair of you were gathered with the other Hogwarts students outside the castle, face to face with the wave of Death Eaters that threatened your lives. “Harry Potter is dead!” Voldemort had yelled out, the closest of his flock chuckling maniacally. 

“Draco,” A voice sneered across the courtyard, making your eyes snap over to it. Lucius. “Draco!” He repeated, growing angrier by the second. “Come!”

“No.” You responded, letting go of Draco’s hand and walking down the steps of the castle. “Draco isn’t going anywhere with you.”

“How dare you speak,” Voldemort called out. “The Slytherin traitor!” He yelled, waving his wand in aggravation. You scoffed at the man in front of you, the things you had been through in such a short time made it almost impossible for the pig without a snout to scare you.

“Look at you Tom,” You spat, wand slipping from your sleeve into your hand. “A stupid old fool.”

“You dare-”

“Oh I dare alright.” Snarling at the man across from you, you had gone to step forward once more but was pulled back by an arm. Looking to the side you noticed Draco had followed you down, making your heart grow warm. “You drone on and on about Pureblood supremacy, yet you’re still the half-blood you claim to despise.” You turned to look back at Voldemort, he had begun pacing small lines up and down the stone flooring, his hands clenching and unclenching in anger at your words. 

“You’re a fool who instead of completely overthrowing the Ministry, chose to come and murder a bunch of kids. You’re a joke Tom! In 100 years, we will all still be here, but you? You’ll just be a fading memory, the punchline of a joke. You. Will be. Nothing.” You emphasised each word. You were silently glad Draco held a firm grip on you, because if he wasn’t there nothing would’ve stopped you from running over there and beating the shit out of Voldemort.

He went to lift his wand towards you, and you gripped yours tighter, ready for the attack. But he was cut off when Harry sprung from Hagrid’s arms across the courtyard, his body hitting the floor for a moment before he was bolting off to the side, springing over debris and jumping into the stone walkways that framed the square.

Cheers broke out around you, screams and cries of happiness. You couldn’t help but let out a relief laugh, taking the moment to grab Draco’s hand and begin to back away from the Death Eater’s towards the castle. Voldemort haphazardly cast a number of spells in the direction of Harry, you watched as countless Death Eater’s apparated; fleeing the school grounds at the sight of Harry alive. The Boy Who Lived, escaped death once more. 

Once you re-entered the castle, everyone seemed to scatter. Making way for Harry, as no doubt Voldemort would be following close behind. You and Draco made for the Great Hall, hand in hand. “You’ve got to promise me something Y/N,” Draco called out, pulling you out of the way of a spell, ducking behind a large stone column.

“Anything,” You whispered, holding him close. 

“Don’t die,” He chuckled for a moment, looking down at you. His smile being a welcomed sight amongst the destruction that surrounded you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” You smiled back, reaching up to pull him down into a swift kiss. His hands knitted themselves in your hair, whilst yours cradled his neck. After what felt like forever, you pulled apart, smiling at one another still.

“I’m gonna marry the shit out of you after this is over,” Draco laughed, taking your hand and running back towards the hall. You were on a high that no one could break, a giddy feeling buzzing in your veins. Breaking through the doors of the hall, you spotted a number of Death Eaters attacking anyone in their sight. 

Your eyes were drawn over to the left, noticing Bellatrix sending spells towards Ginny, a wicked grin stretched across her face. You felt your blood grow hot in fury. Mrs Weasley soon pushed Ginny back away from the table, standing up on top confronting the woman.

“Not my daughter you bitch!” She spat, wand at the ready. Bellatrix just laughed in response, sending spell after spell at the mother. Mrs Weasley blocked each and every one with each step backwards, but she was running out of room on the table and you were worried Bellatrix would take advantage of this. Without another thought you rushed forward, she didn’t even realise what had hit her at first. 

You gripped her ankles, yanking her feet out from under her. Her wand went flying in the opposite direction. Her face bounced off of the table with a loud bang, she screeched out in pain, hands flying up to clutch her face. You didn’t allow her a moment of reprieve before you were tangling your hands in her hair, slamming her face back down onto the table. Once, twice, three times before she elbowed you in the face, connecting with your nose. Your eyes watered at the impact, making you stumble back slightly.

Bellatrix spun around to look at you, blood now streaming down both of your faces. She went to run at you, but you were quicker. Bracing yourself for a moment, you swung your arm out to the side, catching her neck and slamming her whole body to the ground. She wheezed and coughed at the hit to her throat. You panted and grunted, standing back up and grabbing her hair once more. 

You placed one hand on her lower back, gripping the material of her dress. You pushed with all your strength, managing to throw the Death Eater up and over the top of the table, her body rolling off of the side. You panted at the exertion. All you heard was her maniacal laughter as she began to crawl back up onto the table, her wand back in her bony hands. You backed up  a step, watching as she lifted her wand.

“Hey!” A voice yelled, making you both look to the side. It was Mrs Weasley. She had managed to regain her composure and was ready to take her on. She sent a series of spells at Bellatrix, the younger of the pair blocking them but with great struggle. She managed to finally land one though, you watched as Bellatrix had the life squeezed out of her, breathy wheezes coming from her mouth as she struggled to breathe. Mrs Weasley smirked before rearing back her wand and sending a flash of red towards Bellatrix. Her body exploding into leathery confetti, floating around the room. 

“I am so marrying the shit out of you,” Draco laughed from behind you.

Bright music had filled the air on that night, chuckles and murmurs from everyone inside the tent. Clinking of glasses and cheers of joy tumbling out into the large field that surrounded it. You hummed along to the song playing, glass in hand as you rocked back and forth on your feet looking around the tent.

“Oi Malfoy,” A shout had been heard from behind you somewhere. It took you a moment to realise that they were in fact calling for you. Spinning around, you were met by the cheeky grins of the Weasley twins. “Two sickles say you can’t get Draco to dance,” George laughed, elbowing his brother.

You chuckled softly. The tiny bet that had started it all. The twins had made the bet with you in your fourth year, adamant that Draco would never even turn up to the Yule Ball, but wanted to see you try and get him to waltz with you. You hadn’t let on to anyone about your feelings for the boy, keeping them locked away deep inside. It was the same for Draco. He couldn’t help but stare when you weren’t looking, butterflies filling his gut and the absence of breath that followed when you locked eyes.  You treasured the memory. 

“Y/N, come on its time for the dance,” Draco called as he joined you and the twins. You smiled and looked over to the twins with a raised eyebrow. Fred groaned softly, pushing the sickles into your hand before pulling George along to annoy someone else. “What in the bloody hell was that all about?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” You laughed, letting the man in front of you take your hand. The music that previously engulfed the tent quietened for a moment, a softer, subtle tune beginning to play. Spinning you round, Draco couldn’t help but smile as you reached the middle of the dancefloor, all eyes on you. 

He brushed a strand of your hair from your face, taking your waist with his other hand. He pulled you closer, letting your wrap your arms around the back of his neck. The lights dimmed slightly, only one remaining bright as it hovered over the pair of you. You began to sway gently, letting the music fill the silence between you. 

“Everyone is staring at your right now,” You whispered to Draco, looking up at him through your lashes before turning your gaze back out into the crowd. He pulled his face back from your slightly, his brows furrowing.

“Maybe they’re staring at you,”

“They’re not.”

“Maybe they’re jealous of how beautiful you look tonight,” Draco whispered, his forehead coming to rest atop yours. 

“I’m just a girl, Not a threat,” 

“Oh Y/N,” He started, brushing another strand of hair behind your ear, cradling your face in his hand. “I think they should be terrified of you.” You chuckled softly, looking back up into his eyes. In  the next moment, his lips met yours; making your heart bloom in happiness. Finally after so long, you were exactly where you wanted to be. It was just you and him, the love of your life. Everything was entirely perfect. 

“To Mr and Mrs Malfoy!” Someone shouted from within the crowd, cheers erupting all around you, glassing clinking. But you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Everything you had gone through now is just a fading scar. Your entire lives lay ahead of you, and you were so, so excited. For there was no one else you would rather experience it with. 

Your husband, Draco Malfoy.

[solarscholarsofmagick]

10 Things that EVERYONE Needs to Know Before Starting the Craft

1. Wicca and Witchcraft are Not the Same Thing

This is a pet-peeve of mine when people use those words interchangeably. So, what’s the difference? To put it simply, Wicca is a religion, while witchcraft is a practice. It’s like saying that prayer and Christianity are the same thing. Wicca is a relatively new invention, being created in the late 1950’s by Gerald Gardner after he spent a lot of time in Asia and became enthralled with their spirituality, which he merged with various occult practices that he came across in his travels. Witchcraft, on the other hand, is defined, at least by this author, as the act of manipulating the energy around you to achieve a goal. You can be either or you can be both, but they are not mutually exclusive.

2. Witchcraft Does Not Need to Kill Your Bank Account

If you follow many big-name witch influencers, more than likely, you will get caught up in the aesthetic of hundreds of beautiful crystals, perfect altars, sculpted candles, and much more elaborate and expensive things. Now, I want to make it clear, that there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, but it is not always feasible to have (or afford) everything required to fit that aesthetic. Rough, unpolished crystals will work just as good as the one you saw that was professionally polished and carved into the shape of a skull. You can get candles at thrift shops, not just at the website that sells specifically anointed candles for every specific intention. Remember, it is not the tool that makes the witch, but the witch that makes the tool!

3. Know the Difference Between a Coven and A Cult

While it is not necessary, there are definitely some benefits that come with finding a coven that welcomes you with open arems. So, first off, what is a coven?

A coven is a group of like-minded witches that help each other out magickally and hold a special bond or connection. They will often perform rituals together. Please keep in mind that there is a difference between a coven and a cult.

A coven is rewarding, full of (usually) great people and potential friends, while a cult is dangerous, toxic, and filled with people who often prey on the vulnerable or unaware.

Here are some potential warning signs of a cult:

They encourage you to cut off ties with your friends and family.

They try their best to make you dependent on them.

They pressure you into engaging in sexual/criminal/drug activities.

You feel as if it is dangerous to leave.

The “leader” equates themselves to a deity or is a “my word is law” type.

You feel as if you are walking on eggshells around them.

There is some “divine” goal that you must behave a very specific way in order to reach.

Those who manage to escape are demonized and/or are made into examples.

If you suspect that you or a loved one are in a dangerous situation, please contact the appropriate authorities.

4. Witchcraft Can Become Mundane

Pop culture has a bad habit of sensationalizing witchcraft. As cool as it looks, witchcraft isn’t all lightning fingers and demon-slaying. You most likely won’t become a soldier of a magickal war, facing down an ancient evil that was recently released. Sorry, I didn’t mean to burst your bubble!

That being said, witchcraft is extremely rewarding and can be as fun as you make it!

Just like with any other art, it requires discipline! It requires study, practice, and essential tasks (or as they are often fondly called, witchy chores). Some of these “chores” include cleansing, charging, decorating, meditation, and more. Unfortunately, as we all know, these tasks may feel tedious, but they are often very necessary. Again, it is as fun as you make it, and you will be less likely to burn out/hate performing the tasks if you view them as the essential tasks they are rather than unnecessary chores.

5. Learn As Much of the Basics That You Can

As much as we want to immediately jump into more flashy things such as astral projection and elaborate spells or hexes, you must learn the basics first. Why? Because, without a strong grasp of the basics, your magickal work can be unstable and reap results that you may not have intended, including ones that cause harm to you or those around you. To quote a cliche, you must learn to crawl before you can walk.

Here are some basics that I recommend you begin with:

Visualization

Meditation

The history of witchcraft

The elements of a spell

Color/stone/common herb correspondences

Grounding

Different types of the craft

6. Elitism Exists and it’s Bullsh*t

Unfortunately, no matter what community you are in, there will always be a few bad apples, but I will be referring specifically to elitists. Elitists in the witchcraft community tend to preach that their way is the only true way to be a witch, that you must have the most expensive of tools, or that witches who come from a family of witches are better than those who do not. If there is one thing that I want you to take from this article, it’s that, no matter what anyone says, you will NEVER be any less of a witch because of your bloodline, ethnicity, skin color, religion, spiritual practice, or socio-economic status!

7. You Don’t Need to Choose Between Religion and the Craft

One of the most common reasons of being apprehensive towards starting your journey through the craft that I see is a fear of retaliation within your own religion. For example, a lot of Christian witches will initially be afraid of going to hell for their practices. As someone who grew up in the Bible Belt of the Southern United States (poor Awen still lives there), I can definitely relate to this feeling. However, I, as well as several other religious witches, can say that you can have both. You do not need to drop one to have the other. In my eyes, your relationship with your god(s) is between them and you and is nobody else’s business.

To make things a little easier, however, I recommend sliding into the craft slowly. Dip your toe in the proverbial water. Try starting by engaging in activities that aren’t necessarily tied to witchcraft such as meditating, grounding, growing plants, or even just collecting pretty rocks. I also recommend reaching out to practicing witches within your faith for advice. It also may be a good idea to truly research religions of interest and make sure that your religion is a good match for you. It is okay to realize that the religion you were raised to be in, like being raised to be in a particular political party, does not have to be your religion. If it is and it causes you and others around you no harm, then I am truly happy for you and support you.

8. Learn to Listen to Your Intuition/”Gut”

We tend to have a 6th sense for danger or the presence of another being. You may recognize this feeling when you can feel that someone is watching you. Our instincts are built into us to keep us alive. Personally, following my gut has saved my life more than once. In one particular incident, my gut told me to stop at a crosswalk despite not seeing any nearby cars and the sign telling me to walk. Seconds later, a truck sped by, running the red light at full speed.

If you feel that a spell has taken a turn towards the unwanted, find a stopping point and seal it away. Feel as if a deity is calling you? Take the time to research them and their calling cards. However, please take the time to learn the difference between a negative gut feeling and general nervousness, as it does feel different.

9. Learn the Difference Between Good and Bad Resources

Misinformaion and toxic ideologies can be dangerous when it comes to witchcraft. You can read extensively about the difference between the two in my previous post about it here.

10. It’s Okay If the Craft is Not for You

If you decide to try out the craft and later feel as if it isn’t clicking… that’s okay. The initial decision to explore is not one for life. Just like how certain sports, hobbies, music, et cetera are not for everybody, witchcraft is not for everybody. Anyone who decides to judge you for that is wrong and not worth your time.

Please consider supporting us by viewing the original post on our website, here!

[lomlmarvel]

It’ll Always Be You II

Randall Carpio x fem!Reader Series

Part Two [Part One]

For the past few hours, you had been catching up on some reading. There wasn't much to do since classes hadn't begun yet. Hamish was getting ready for his first day of class by looking over his scheduling log and re-reading the material he was going to cover the first day. You felt like you didn't even need to attend his first class since you had heard him repeat his speech a dozen times in the past hour.

Lilith had gone to the store to buy groceries and toiletries. She returned and left again to go on a run. The den was quiet, other than Hamish's muttering in the corner of the room as he rehearsed his speech again. He had been making drinks in between and offering them to you while he practiced his speech. You had taken a few, but you could feel the alcohol start to intoxicate your body, and you didn't want to get drunk the day before classes began.

You didn't want to be drunk if Randall came back to the den and wanted to talk to you about what had happened earlier. Honestly, you hadn't stopped thinking about it since it had happened. Why did he keep leaning in if he was going to back out last second? Did he even mean to lean in, or did he even realize it? Did he have feelings for you? Did he know about your feelings towards him?

Your mind was buzzed with all the possibilities as to why Randall leaned in and why he pulled away quickly. Part of you had hoped that it was a mistake and that it meant the two of you would remain friends forever. But the other part hoped that he was as infatuated with you as you were with him. 

You took another large gulp of the alcoholic beverage that Hamish had prepared for you. It had been placed in your hand for the last 10 minutes, but your thoughts had been so busy with Randall that you had forgotten it was there. It was the afternoon, Randall should've been done with doing the last tour and checking in with everyone. He should've been at the den by now. That's if he decided to sleep in his room at the den. Maybe he decided to stay at his dorm to help the freshmen settle in their first night.

 It sucked, knowing this would be the busiest time of year for Randall. It meant you would have to deal with all the Order newbies with Hamish and Lilith, not that they weren't good company, but you preferred to be with Randall.

"What's wrong?" Hamish called out to you. He had been watching you for the past few minutes, seeing as you harbored the alcoholic beverage in your hand. You would usually take it all in one sip, but this time was different. He knew something was up when you showed up at the den by yourself and without Randall. The two of you were always together, even when Randall had to be working. 

"Nothing. Just tired of reading 'Hamlet' again. I finished 'Ready Player One' a couple of days ago, so this is the only book I have left," You replied, lifting the old cover of 'Hamlet' that was in your hands.

"You can get started on the philosophy readings you have to do--" Hamish started, but you cut him off.

"No, thanks. I have one day of summer left, and I do not want to spend it doing homework," You stated. Hamish smiled at you, placing his lesson plan on the table and walking over to you on the couch. 

"First off, Professor Krowchuk is thinking of adding three more books to the lesson plan, so you might want to rethink starting your reading now. Secondly, I know something happened with Randall," Hamish commented. You sat up from laying down and faced Hamish's concerned expression.

"C'mon, you can tell me," He softly said. He placed his hand over yours, and you smiled at him sweetly. 

"It's just--We were out by the tree earlier, and we were talking. I mentioned how I got into Krowchuk's class and when I turned to look at him, I didn't realize how close we actually were. I guess he didn't realize it either, but he wasn't pulling away. I figured I was finally going to shoot my shot and kiss Randall," You told Hamish, explaining what had been on your mind for the past few hours. Hamish stared wide-eyed at you, waiting for you to continue telling the story.

"And..."

"And, I started to lean in, because I thought he wanted to kiss me too, but then last second he pulled away. Pulled away, as in, he literally jumped two feet away from me to put distance between us. He got all weird, started packing up, and made some lame excuse about going back to the dorms. So I came here," You said, shrugging your shoulders at the memory. 

"Maybe he was just scared?" Hamish asked. You sent him a glare.

"It's Randall. He's not scared of shit."

"Look, maybe he just got nervous. Don't give up on him or yourself. Shoot your shot if he won't do it first," Hamish advised. You nodded and set your book down. 

"Thanks, Hamish." You pulled him in for a hug. When you pulled away, your phone vibrated in your pocket and saw a text from Jack.

Meet me at the Blade and Chalice for a drink? It's on me :) 

Oh, by the way, Randall's coming too

You showed Hamish the screen, and he shrugged. 

"Shoot your shot," He replied. You stood up and grabbed your sweater as you made your way to the door. 

When you arrived at the B&C, the two guys were sitting at a table with two beers in front of them. Randall immediately made eye contact with you the second you stepped into the room, but quickly avoided your gaze until you stood two feet from them.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Jack greeted you. You smiled and took the seat in the middle.

“How was orientation?” You asked. Grabbing what you assumed to be Randall’s beer and took a sip out of it. He stared at you for a moment before looking down at his hands.

“Let me get you a drink. I promised I would,” Jack said, watching you set the bottle back down in front of Randall.

“No, it’s fine. Randall doesn’t mind, we share beers all the time,” You responded. Jack turned to look at Randall, who nodded in return. He gave you a look before answering your question.

“It was fine. Didn’t really need to have a tour. You know Pete would talk about it all the time, I have like a mental snapshot of the map”

“He was rejected by his tour guide,” Randall cut in after Jack. You stared back at Jack, who rolled his eyes.

“I’m not interested in her,” Jack replied. His attention fell to the corner of the room where a posse of freshmen was seated.

“You into him or her? Or the other him?” Randall asked Jack, bumping his shoulders. You leaned over the table and punched Randall in the arm.

“Ouch!” Before you could respond to Randall, Jack cleared his throat to get your attention.

“What do you know about the Hermetic Order of The Blue Rose?” He asked. You looked at Randall, smirked, and turned back to Jack.

“It’s a crock of shit,” You stated. Randall agreed and discreetly pulled your chair closer to his. You turned your head to catch Randall leaning next to you, with his stare already on you. You sent him a small smile, which he returned.

“I think they may have been recruited, and I’m trying to figure out what they have in common.”

“Besides being...” Randall asked.

“Elitist assholes?,” You replied to Randall, causing him to chuckle.

“Hey, a lot of good people are members. Michelle Obama, Warren Buffett, Oprah,” Jack defended himself. You gave him a serious look and heard Randall shuffle next to you. You turned around, and he was starting to talk.  Did he move his chair so the two of you would be touching legs?

“You know who’s also supposed to be members? Bad people, like Benito Mussolini, George W. Bush. Oprah,” Randall said. He glanced at you and noticed you staring at him.

“For people that don’t believe, you two sure know a lot about them,” Jack observed. You turned away from Randall’s stare.

“Randall’s Wikipedia smart, and I’m just the unfortunate one who listens to him talk all day,” you started. Randall softly kicked your foot with his. “Look, even if they do exist... I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Jack gave you a glare and took a sip of his beer. “Why is that,” he asked, a hint of hurt in his tone.

“They want sheep, and from what I remember, you’ve got a mind of your own,” you replied. Jack nodded and raised his bottle to you.

“Well, who wouldn’t want unlimited power?” Jack commented. The three of you looked at each other and nodded.

“I have to do something, so I’ll catch up with you later, alright?” Jack said as he looked at you. You nodded and pulled him in for a hug.

“I’ll see you later. Thanks for the beer, Randall,” Jack said, turning to the dark-haired male next to you.

“See you around,” Randall replied. The two of you watched as Jack walked out of the bar. An awkward silence settled as you turned to look at each other. You weren’t sure whether to bring up what had happened a few hours ago or pretend that it never happened.

“So, Jack seems real--”

“Hey, sorry about earlier-”

You and Randall stared at each other, cutting each other off. Neither of you said a word, you kept looking into each other’s eyes. 

“About earlier, I just wanna say I’m sorry,” Randall was the first to talk. “I’ve been thrown off this entire week for some reason, and I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re my best friend, and I guess I just got caught up in the moment,” Randall stated. You felt your heart fall, and your throat tighten. You wanted to cry, but you kept in your tears. It was just like how you had thought, he never had feelings for you. 

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. It’s the beginning of the school year, we’ve got a lot of pressure. I don’t blame you,” You lied, placing your hand on his arm. He looked down at your hand and smiled. 

“C’mon, let’s go back to the den. I have a feeling these assholes are gonna start using bad magic soon,” you said. Randall nodded and laid a $20 bill on the table. The two of you got up and made your way out. 

-

The next two weeks were stressful for everyone.  Jack had managed to get involved with the Order, but you only found out because Randall had told you. Randall and Lilith had been hunting down this thing that was killing pledges. Hamish had been busy with his class, and you had been busy helping Lilith and Randall figure out what the creature was. You had found some books in the basement, but Randall said it would be quicker to just search on Google. Being how you were so in love with him (and majorly because you didn’t want to read all those old books), you followed his direction.

With Randall, the two of you had gotten back into your regular routine. It was as if nothing had happened. You never revealed that you did, in fact, have feelings for him, but since he clearly didn’t have any for you, you decided to not say anything. You treasured your friendship too much to risk losing it.

However, things got interesting one day. You had gotten back from your last class of the day and started prepping snacks for the movie night you and the Knights would be having. Yet, when you arrived, the front door was swung open. You entered the living room and began scanning the rooms. But a particular smell led you to the basement. There, you found ripped up clothes. You searched for a wallet and saw that it belonged to the one and only Jack Morton. You immediately called everyone else and went out to search for the newly-turned werewolf.