#the most important thing to realize about the last part is no matter the medium he is a ttrpg character played by someone that likes bits

[notasouleater]

You have a beautiful mind

NOTE:

wretched (adjective) 1: deeply afflicted, dejected, or distressed in body or mind 2: extremely or deplorably bad or distressing 3: a. being or appearing mean, miserable, or contemptible b. very poor in quality or ability : inferior

Thank you @floofylion for the star wars info and @justheretolurk24 for proofreading. And everyone else that supported me in losing it over my favorite B1 battle droid

~

He was built for war, and the first thought he ever truly had was that he was terrified of it.

He’d had lots of thoughts before, technically. Usually “roger that” or a rush of self-preservation. Mimicking a joke. Thoughts like move forward, fire, take cover, execute the order. A slight moment of calculation as targets changed. Move forward. 

Things like calibrating as he flew through the air, pushed by an energy he didn’t understand, not really. Stalling as it tripped something in his processors. Reconnecting after his head hit the ground.

Then war. He realized the world was ending around him before he realized he was a person. 

People were dying all around him, and he understood it now in a way he never had. Blood staining dirt around the fallen remains of things that looked like him. That crumpled in like he could. He thought he’d been scared of death before, but he was wrong. He wasn’t built to last. He’d only been aware for a moment. He couldn’t die before he could even figure out what that meant.

The only things not in the fight were the people already on the ground. So he lay down next to his mirror image and waited.

He waited as people ran and screamed around him. As missed lasers burst on the floor next to his head. As the world grew redder and hotter. As things got quiet. As it faded back to a muted grey.

He waited for hours. Waited until he was more scared someone would come looking for bodies than he was of a soldier still being around. He sat up and realized something else: there was nowhere to go. He couldn’t go back. Not with this in his head. Even if he could they would just send him back out to die. Anyone else would probably kill him on the spot.

He staggered to his feet. Silently, he walked through bodies. He pulled outer robes off of one. He doesn’t think he tied them on right, but at least no one would confuse him for- for one of them. He took boots from another, gloves from a third. He wouldn’t risk anything showing. There was a body with an undecorated helmet, and it wasn’t built for his head at all but the person was large so he crammed it on and let it rattle.

He looked around, and right, they landed a bit outside a city. He thinks they were trying to attack, and maybe any citizens would hate his face for that, but power had probably changed by now and he doesn’t care enough to remember. He just needed to get away. He turned towards the city and started walking.

He didn’t understand why other beings had talked dismissively around him about lacking feelings like it was a bad thing. He hoped he would never have an emotion again.

~

Being in the city didn’t help. He felt like every person he passed in the street was going to grab him and ask him who, exactly, he thought he was fooling. Most people were occupied with, well, the occupation, likely too busy to notice him, but that just meant half the people he passed were soldiers. Soldiers that, even if they considered them below notice, had worked with B1s before. Surely learned their shape and movements, even if they wouldn’t be looking for it in a stranger. It was worse when he passed by other battle droids in the street. He didn’t know how to feel about them. Like a funhouse mirror that distorted something on the inside rather than out.

He passed by buildings he might be able to hide in, but the only places he could really camp out in all required money he didn’t have. Most were restaurants or bars anyways, and what a great way to get caught- not eating anything he ordered. He almost wished he could get drunk, though.

In the end he wandered to a sparser, darker edge of the city, more absent of guards. He tucked himself into an empty alley, scanning it repeatedly for any heat signals to ensure he was really alone before finding a hidden corner to curl up in. It was hard like this, the compact design not intended to need to work around something like fabric. He made it work though.  He didn’t need to sleep, but he did need to think. And there was a lot of that to get done. 

He needed money, obviously. That would solve most of his problems. He had over a week before he would need to recharge, but if he didn’t have a way to get energy by then he was fucked. Same for getting better clothes, especially a helmet. This thing was practically begging to fall off his head. Maybe a place to stay. 

He wanted to get off-planet, after that. Somewhere very, very far away. It would be a long time before that would be possible, though, unless he won the lottery somehow. Would lotteries still be running after everything? Maybe he should enter the lottery.

None of that would be possible until he figured out how to get money though, and his best shot at that would be in the morning. He just tried to tuck his head in and wait for morning. 

This was, unfortunately, easier said than done. Something in his head was fundamentally changed, but he didn’t even really understand what, exactly, it was. He remembered, still, everything that came before. It felt almost like it happened to a different person. It was definitely the same him that did all that. He’d felt things before, he’s sure. He never actually knew what an emotion was. Something that was always there that was freshly grown had been locked away for years. He wanted to rip out his processing unit. He wanted to freeze himself and preserve all of this forever, he almost lost it as soon as he had it he’d almost died as soon as he lived and it was all around him still one slip and he would be dead or inhibited or-

His limbs were shaking. Stupid model can’t even work right. Why was he built like a horde of idiots? 

He would put himself into standby for the night if it wouldn’t be so dangerous. In the end he just resigned himself to it, watching and listening until the small sun finally started creeping into the sky and the city rumbled from alive to busy.

He steeled himself as people started to push through the street outside the alley, waiting for the crowd to get busy enough to hide him. Then he stood, walked out, and, as he was learning to do, he didn't look back.

~

He wandered around for a good while before he decided what his best chance would be. He was probably most qualified for a job as a bodyguard or bounty hunter or something, but he wasn’t about to go do something dangerous. The last thing he wanted was a job that suited his experience. He finally decided on what seemed like just a corner store, a help wanted sign on the window in Galactic Basic and ten other languages he couldn't read. The place seemed sketchy, but he figured that at the least that meant no one would care enough to look too closely at him.

The person at the front didn’t even take their eyes off their magazine as he walked up and asked about the job, so his guess felt pretty good.

“Why do you want to work here?”

He looked around the cramped, dusty store.

“Money.”

The owner huffed. “At least you’re honest. You ever worked in a store before?”

“Can’t say I have.”

They considered him for a moment, before shrugging. “Well then. You got a name?”

He went to answer, before feeling like the back of his processors ran very neatly into the front of his head. Did he?

It’s not like anyone ever called him anything. He was always part of a group. Just- unit number N-8 of squad R3N. And he couldn’t give a number. His best chance of hiding would be if no one even knew he was a droid of any sort to begin with.

The owner was starting to give him a strange look.

How did people usually get named? For droids he'd only heard nicknames based on some shortened version of their code, and he’d already decided against that. But he didn’t know what else he’d be named. That designation was his. Maybe though- if he just said it like it was all letters. There were a lot of names in the galaxy. No one could say this wasn’t one of them.

“Nn-eight. Nate,” he said. 

“Just Nate?” asked the owner, eyebrow raised. “No connections or nothing?”

“Nate-” What? Rthreen? Arethreeen? Or- shift it- 

“Ren.  E?” 

He didn’t like that. Shove it together different, make it work.

“Nate Renet.”

He felt gross. That was close enough to his designation, but it wasn’t the same. He didn’t have connections, not really. He was realizing he’d never actually thought about if he even still wanted to be a he.

“Great. You want to start?”

Silence.

“I said-” the grocer finally looked up, but Nate was gone.

~

What was his name?

Nate(?) hurried down the crowded street, paying little attention to where he went. What was his name? He didn’t mind N-8, it was his. But he couldn’t give that out. Nate though… that wasn’t- it just wasn’t his name. And Renet? Where did that even come from?

His old squad, he supposed. What was that grocer asking about- his connections? Family? No. Absolutely not. He wasn’t anything like those things. Not anymore. He didn’t mind messing with the squad notation really, just- keep it closer. R3N, Renet- R3N37. He liked that. If he just pronounced it like Renet no one would know the difference. And then he could just do the same with Nate and N-8.

N-8 R3N37. He could be him.

Ah. That brought him back to the other question- he? He didn’t really care that much, to be honest, but it seemed like an important thing to know. He ran through options in his head- it, she, xe, fae, onwards- as well as some combinations. No, ‘he’ was right, he decided. A bit of a shit reinvention, but he didn’t feel much need to change anyways.

A bit late to get there though. He’d already fucked up his actual chance to get a job. Fine. He’d just find something on the other side of town.

One advantage, at least, of his model was the height. He had a good view of the things going on around him as he walked, able to turn away if he saw a soldier getting close. There also seemed to be a lot of clone troopers around for a place he’d assumed had been taken by the separatists. He vaguely remembered a shift in that last battle, shooting in different directions than usual. It made his head hurt. He shook it off.

It didn’t matter why anyone was there, as long as they had nothing to do with him.

There was a shift in the crowd, and he abruptly shifted his attention back. Focus, stupid. There, on the side up against a building, a small group of people gathered around… some sort of game?

He sidled up to watch, observing a sort of guessing gambling game. A ball was put under one of three cups, then the cups were mixed and the player had to guess which one it was under. More players were failing than seemed statistically likely. He lingered in the back for a bit, watching.

“Idiots. All these games are scams.”

He turned towards the grumbling person next to him, who seemed to take his vague attention as some sort of question.

“Everyone thinks they’ll be the one to beat the trick and win big. Then they lose all their money. Idiots.”

N-8 let his attention drift back towards the game. It didn’t seem that hard, but he supposed that was the trick. It wasn’t like he had money to use on it anyways. At any rate, he was wasting time. He pushed his way out of the crowd. Back to the plan.

~

The day was pretty much a failure, after that. He thinks he must have walked out of the only place in the city dumb enough to hire him. He only found one other place with a sign out (that he could actually read, at least), but they seemed to have higher standards than any old schmuck off the street. He tried to convince them he definitely had the experience they were looking for, but was cut off when a soldier came in from the street, looking for something. He slipped out as soon as he could. Maybe that kind of job was a bad idea after all.

It would be easier if he had any other way to search. Now that he knew it was needed he didn’t mind lying if he could just find the right person to lie to, but he didn’t know how to find anyone like that- he didn’t exactly know anyone on this planet that could help him network. He didn’t know anyone at all.

Eventually he trudged around until he found another empty alley, and settled in for the night. He didn’t go into standby, but still felt startled when the sun rose. It felt like his head was stuffed with red, but he couldn’t grasp why.

It’s not like it mattered, anyway. Up and at ‘em. You have to make this work.

It did not work. The paltry few places he found would all have him interacting with the public, and thus far more people that might be familiar with battle droids than was to his liking. It got to the point where he was ready to give up, and find some position that just required him to hold a gun. Not ideal, but it was getting late. And he only had so many days before he needed to recharge. Grimly, he found a place that looked seedy enough and asked around on where he might find work. Someone gave him directions to a job board elsewhere, and he set off.

The sun was already setting when he left, which felt fitting. He didn’t expect it to be easy for him, but he didn’t see why it had to be so hard. As he scanned the area he noticed a disturbance in the crowd again, spotting a woman fielding the cup game from before. He hesitated a moment, but… if he could buy himself time he might be able to avoid the job board. He started making his way through the throng, waiting until he brushed past someone with wide pockets. He slipped a hand in, and was graced with some credits. He needed them more. He shoved his hand back into his own pocket, keeping his fist tightly around them.

He hovered in the spectators around the game for a while. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was, exactly, for joining it, but he must’ve had the right hesitant air about him because after ending a game the woman running it pointed at him.

“C’mon helmet, wanna play?” she grinned.

He stepped forward, hand still tight in his pocket. “How much is it?”

“Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll let you have a practice round. I’ll even give you enough to cover half a proper one if you win.”

He’d seen the person yesterday do this. She’d raise the amount as they went, after getting him overconfident, or desperate, whichever it came to. That worked for him.

He sat down, watching as she shifted the cups around. He pointed to the one with the ball at the end, and she lifted the cup with an exaggerated gasp.

“Nice play, helmet!” She pulled out a credit, and pushed it towards him, before stopping with her finger still on it, and winking. “Think you can do that with real stakes?”

In response, N-8 finally pulled his hand out of his pocket, luckily finding the right credit to match hers and placing it down. She grinned, and started a new game, hands flying much faster this time.

It wasn’t that hard, really, if you knew the trick. He switched to his infrared vision, watching as the orange prints from her fingers slowly faded from the cup she first held after she began to shuffle. But during a pass he caught another glimpse, round and red, as the ball switched cups. Oh. That was the trick.

He pointed to the right cup after she stopped, and she looked surprised, but still unconcerned. 

“Nice guess,” she said, sliding more credits across the table. “You want to go again? The winnings only get higher.”

He pulled out more credits, adding even more onto the pile, and she grinned, teeth sharp.

Her mouth fell when he once again pointed to the correct cup.

After faltering for just a moment, she plastered her showy smile back on. “You see folks, anyone can be a winner! Just takes some luck! With skill like that I’m sure you want to play again.”

N-8 just shook his head. She was already glancing at him like she suspected a trick. He was quickly trying to get all the money into the deeper folds of his cloak when she grabbed his hand, leaning in with something dark in her eyes. 

“If you truly think your ‘luck’ can carry you, go down to May’s Walk tonight. I’ll see how you fare in a real game.”

In a blink she’d released him, beaming again to the crowd. He hurried away, and didn’t look back.

~

The credits didn’t get him very far. Energy, it turned out, was a pretty penny out here, especially if you needed both to go out to get it and privacy while you used it. He was recharged, but he didn’t think he’d be able to do so again with what he had now. It didn’t help that as a couple of days passed by, so did changes in the weather. He didn’t want to spend another night in the rain, not built like he was. Rent wasn’t exactly going to be covered by the leftovers of his roadside winnings though. He needed to suck it up, and either brave the public facing job or just find someone who’d pay him for being tall and holding a gun and hopefully not much more than that.

He could suck it up, or he could take a risk.

He went back to the place where he’d found out about the merc job board (even if he didn’t use the previous help, it seemed like a place with the right crowd), asking around with a new question this time. That night he made his way down to a concerningly empty part of the city, counting doors down the street until he decided he'd found the right one. He knocked, and a window in it slid open.

“What do you want?”

“Is May home?” N-8 asked, enunciating carefully.

The window slid closed, followed a moment later by the door swinging open and inwards. N-8 stepped forward to find a dark set of stairs. The bouncer gestured him forward, and he descended downwards.

There were several tables in a dimly lit space. He disliked the cramped atmosphere, with people running into him. It was hard to see him, but that made it harder to see others. Heat only gave you so much, leaving out important details like anyone that wasn’t endothermic, or what uniform they wore. Not that anyone there was likely to be very committed to their outside duties during their stay.

N-8 passed by several games, realizing with a sinking feeling he didn’t actually know how to play- well- anything. He resigned himself to observing for a while, taking the chance to learn something that would hopefully be easy enough for him to rig but also have a big payout. Unfortunately for him, he’d already been spotted.

He internalized a wince as he watched the woman from the cup game waltz up to him. “Took your time, didn’t you, helmet?”

He looked out over the sea of games. She wanted the chance to wreck him and he was at a disadvantage. But maybe he could use that.

“I don’t know any of these games.”

She looked taken aback. “Not even spoker? Chance cubes?”

“Well I’ve heard of them,” he said, imbuing his voice with as much dumbass-sounding confidence as he could muster. “So surely they can’t be too hard.”

Her pointy smile was back. “I’m sure. Why don't we test that theory out?”

Chance cubes, he learns, can be used for many games. He wishes he’d been built for even the slightest bit of computations. It would make the whole thing much easier. Even as the woman tip-toesed around spelling it out as she teached him, though, he could tell the point of the game was to favor the house. Which was unfortunate, given she apparently worked there. 

He lost a good couple games, still breaking about even but with enough awareness to know this wasn’t going to go well for him. That was fine. He’d already figured out how he was going to make this work for him. The person sitting next to him at the table was dressed very, very well. And at their feet was a just-as-nice looking briefcase.

N-8 kept playing- tilting his head in confusion at new rules and loudly proclaiming his confidence in turning it around. He was losing more and more money, but that was fine. As each round passed, he used his foot to pull at the briefcase under the table, sliding it further and further away from the rich gambler. Getting it close to the perfect position to secure his fortune until-

“Karabast!”

The gambler finally looked down, noting their loss with shock and fury.

The woman running the table, for her part, reacted quickly, immediately deciding N-8 was to blame, for no reason whatsoever. She jumped up, swearing and leaning across the table towards him. This was unfortunate for her, because as she did so she fell over the briefcase located at her own feet.

N-8 shook his head as the pair broke into a fight. A dealer stealing from people at her own table. Shameful.

The two were drawing more attention as they fought, devolving from yells to fists as they drew a crowd. He sidled away from them, worried she might still drag him in  and distrustful of the crowd, but it was still good for him as it meant no one was looking in his direction as he slipped behind the table himself. Goodness, someone left a briefcase back there! And a hefty pile of credits too. He should take those with him. For safekeeping.

The bouncer from the front had run back at some point to separate the combatants. Ah well, time to go.

In a last moment of impulse he swiped the chance cubes from the table, before hurrying, as low key as possible, to the stairs, hearing one last screech before he slipped out into the night. He didn't run, because he wasn’t stupid, but he still sped quickly from the area, twisting through different streets until he settled in a corner where he couldn’t be found. Only then did he start cataloguing his spoils from the night.

Oh goodness. That was more credits than he thought it was. Someone was getting fired tonight.

Not that he felt very bad about that. He had no illusions that she planned on robbing him blind, or, if he had been particularly lucky, making sure he still learned his lesson on what she certainly knew was cheating. The world was built around fighting. He was determined to be the one that survived.

He then turned his attention to the briefcase. It was mostly filled with papers, and bagged flakes of plants. Maybe the gambler was in the culinary business? N-8 couldn’t actually read the language the documents were written in, so he wasn’t sure. The bag’s contents had to be valuable though, if he could just find the right place to sell it off.

He considered whether it would be worth it to go back to the same place where he’d heard about the illicit job board again. It would put him in the same general vicinity as where he’d first run into the cup game. Plus, he was pretty sure that bars only tended to put up with so much use of their space without actually buying anything. But the longer he held onto this thing the more dangerous it felt, and he didn’t want to risk anyone coming after him. This was a check that needed to be cashed as soon as possible.

The better part of an hour later he was sidling through the establishment’s front doors, attempting to avoid the gaze of the bartenders as he tried to scan the area. He didn’t exactly have the background required, yet, for figuring out who might be good to go up to. His eyes finally settled on one of the people that had sent him towards a job in the first place (a “Bith” he thinks, if that wasn’t xyr name), and, figuring xe probably had connections, wandered up to xem.

Luckily the(?) Bith seemed to assume, when he explained he had something to sell, that it was something from a job xe had sent him towards, and didn’t ask further questions. On the other hand, xe insisted N-8 buy xem a drink before xe would talk business. 

At least that settled his bartender worry.

After he slid the glass across the table, Bith (the Bith? He was struggling) gave him a nod, and he pulled out the case, sliding it over before cracking it open. TheBith looked in, eyelids raising at the plant bags, then further and further as xe scanned the documents.

It occurred to N-8 that if TheBith tried to just take the thing and run, he wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. He tightened his grip on the case’s sides.

“Do you understand what you have here?”

“Of course I do.” He didn’t have a single fucking clue. “So don’t think about trying to undersell me.”

TheBith glanced down, then back up.

“8,000 credits.”

He stared at xem. Xe glanced again.

“Of course, just starting low. 10,000 should be fine.”

“15,000 credits.”

TheBiff scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He stayed silent.

“You can't be serious. I’m not paying that.”

N-8 thought for a second, before shrugging. Gambling had worked out for him so far. He pulled the case back towards him, starting to shut the lid, when a hand shot out. 

“I can give you 13,500.”

N-8 tipped his head to the side, a facsimile of how some organics smiled, ignoring how the helmet rattled on his head.

“That’s a deal!”

TheBith sighed in relief for a second, before reaching into xyr pocket, and pulling out some kind of pad.

“I can transfer the money right into your account before you hand it over, of course.”

N-8 stared. “I don’t have one of those.”

“A credit pad? That’s fine, give me the account number and I’ll-”

“An account,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“I don’t have an account.”

TheBith stared at him. “For… credits? What currency do you-”

“For money. At all.”

TheBith opened xyr mouth. N-8 shifted, unclear on what was happening. TheBith closed xyr mouth.

“Alright.” Xe said. “Alright. We’re going to the bank.”

TheBith led N-8 out of the bar, leading the way down winding streets. It occurred to N-8 he was potentially handing himself over to be kidnapped. Or worse. 

“Is this something I could just wait for you to get back wi-”

TheBith gave him the most exasperated look N-8 had ever seen, and he used to work with people that worked with B1s. 

“You’re not leaving my sight.”

Well. Alright then.

They finally came to a stop outside a nice looking building that, to N-8s relief, did seem to actually be a ‘bank’.

“Do you have an ID on you?”

He probably had some sort of identification attached to him, now that he thought of it. He should probably get rid of that. TheBith managed to somehow look even more tired than before as he didn’t respond.

“Just. Just wait in here, okay?”

Xe gestured to a place advertising food for “pets” as well as containment bins of many kinds. Confusing, but he went in regardless. As he stared at various displays of creatures all labeled as “pet” but surely could not be the same species, he wondered if this is how questionably legal deals tended to normally go.

There was a ring at the door, and TheBith entered, arms filled with small boxes of credits, before dragging him deep into the back of the shop nestled between bags of feed and what he was certain was a bird. It was very loud.

“Let’s just get this over with quickly, alright?” said TheBith, glancing around before dumping xyr boxes into his lap.

N-8 nodded, quickly opening the briefcase, taking the contents in handfuls and passing them to TheBiff.

“Whatareyoudoingjustpassmethecase,” xe hissed.

N-8 looked at xyr incredulously. “I sold you the contents, not the case.”

“Who cares about the case??”

“How else do you expect me to carry all this money?”

“Stars alive, just fucking hurry.”

He didn’t understand why xe was acting like he was the one being unreasonable here.

Finally, they settled out who was taking what, and in what, all without anyone wandering into the aisle they were in. TheBiff gave him a small wave, before rushing away from his general vicinity, and he was left alone, thousands of credits in hand, to figure out what to do next.

There were a lot of options here. Literally overnight his situation had improved more than he thought was possible. With this amount of money he could get papers, a better helmet, maybe even a place to stay with it. But first, he had a main priority, and he hauled himself out to the streets to hurry to a place burning bright in his mind.

N-8 walked into a space bus station, briefcase in hand. He was getting off this fucking planet.

[chekovssomethingorother]

Scanlan: Campaign vs TLOVM

Character Arc: TLOVM seems to be almost running Scanlan’s character arc in reverse? Scanlan in TLOVM isn’t really interested in doing anything above his pay grade, is willing to abandon Vox Machina in a pinch and is very interested in his own self preservation. He’s moving in the direction of fighting for the greater good, specifically as part of making things right with his daughter, and remaining more steadfast and with the group.

By contrast Scanlan in the campaign was glory seeking. He could be counted on to chime in with doubts about a particular plan, or timing, but when push came to shove he was always there in the thick of it styling himself a king slayer. In that same vein Scanlan was extremely loyal to the group. He forgot fairly important attributes of the other’s characters more than once and most of the time kept a flippant attitude, but in fights he could always be counted on to support the rest of the party, even and especially to his own detriment. Which brings us to my final point; Scanlan spent most of the campaign being at least passively suicidal. Scanlan’s arc in the campaign is a long downward spiral, mostly of his own making, that he only bails out of at the last moment in the most explosive and terrible way possible. Scanlan doesn’t actively try and stay alive until Kaylie makes him promise to live. Healing his relationship with his daughter has nothing to do with saving the world, it has to do with living, no matter what the cost, so that he’s there to do with work with her after.

I can’t say I hate the direction they’ve taken Scanlan in TLOVM, but between a story about a selfish man becoming a hero, and the story of a selfish man realizing he actually doesn’t want to go out in a blaze of glory, but live and make things right even if it’s hard, I know which I prefer.

Powers: This is way more petty, but it must be said. Scanlan in TLOVM is way under powered and more shallow than he was in the campaign. They’ve cut down on his spell list massively and inspiration and the like don’t really work in the medium (Was is cool for Sam to sing for thirty seconds at a time? Fuck yes. Can you actually do that in a fight? Fuck no.).

Scanlan had a lot of really cool moments in the campaign because Sam used his spells in clever ways or took advantage of the mechanics of D&D. Scanlan in the show is a lot more bumbling and less capable. For example when he raided the Duke’s manor in Whitestone in the campaign it was still an absolute train wreck, but one he got out of through skill and cleverness rather than fumbling and pure luck as in the show. Scanlan in TLOVM doesn’t have the serious clever core under all the sex jokes that Scanlan in the campaign does. (Also Scanlan was definitely horny in the campaign but not nearly as much as in the show. He knew when to be serious. Also also the rest of the cast thought it was funny, they did not disdain the sex jokes as their characters often do in the show).

TLDR: Scanlan’s character in TLOVM is not all that similar to the Scanlan of the campaign except on a surface level. His arc has been deconstructed and simplified to a degree that it’s pretty much unrecognizable. (No hate to anyone who likes show Scanlan, I also like that little guy!)

[venuslut]

Cheating on your husband with sleazy!boss!John Price. He had always been a little handsy whenever he came over for dinner but you ignored it for the most part. Not wanting to jeopardize your husband's job or military career because of how you feel.

Now due to a sudden incident, your financial situation began to worsen and you both needed extra money to stay afloat. Of course as a good Captain that John is, he offers you a job as his secretary. It wasn’t like you were unqualified for the job, and you really didn't have a choice in the matter. Money was more important than your comfortability. So you dealt with the leering stares he gave you and the near unbearable groping. You even handled kneeling for an hour as you sucked his cock under the desk as one of the other soldiers gave a mission report. You held a small grudge for that particular officer because of that.

Even during the agonizing times, when he forced you to sit through a meeting without panties and a pretty pink vibrater pushed into your cunt. The toy vibrating at a medium intensity that had your legs squeezing by together in hopes it would dull the vibrations (it was futile). John had to give it to you though, you appeared calm and collected throughout the whole meeting, and your ability to stay quiet was commendable. Even if your face was a little flushed and he could tell you weren’t focused on anything. But it’s fine, a pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be learning anything about war.

One thing you especially hated though, was when he forced you away from your husband. Calling you under the guise of needing your help to drive you into a nearby hotel where he would dress you in the sluttiest of outfits. Ranging from school-girl, cat, nurse, bikini (it was barely that), police, etc. You name it, you wore it. It was even worse on the nights that he didn't stop til the morning, it was like he wanted your husband to find out. The old man just couldn’t get enough of your body, fucking you like it was the last time. Driving his cock into your wet cunt over and over again, bullying it, til you're crying and dumb. You don’t know whether you’re begging him to stop or begging for him to continue, it all a blur when John blows his cigar smoke into your face while he’s got you in a mating press. With your legs to your chest, held up by his iron grip while he makes you hold his cigar in between your lips.

However, you could handle all that. It’s all in the name of financial stability in the end. But what really troubled you was that you weren't pleased with your husband anymore. He just couldn't hit those spots or stretch you out like John could. This was a major problem, not only because you were gradually losing feelings for your husband, but you both planned to start a family together. How were you supposed to have a child if you couldn't even cum by him anymore?

Those concerns were put to the back of your mind for now, you’re too busy having John’s cock roughly pound into your gushing cunt. Your breast spilling out from the side of the pink maid apron he had you wear. Sweat and cum staining the silk bed sheets you and your husband slept on. Your leg tossed over his shoulder, his thumb rubbing nonsensical patterns on your clit, as you clung onto the pillows that you and your husband laid your heads on.

It was then that you realized just how much you enjoyed this. John's rough nature, being used, the risk of being caught. You noticed that your moans that you used to constantly fake turned into real moans and whines. You also realized why he was so adamant on constantly fucking you. He was grooming you. Training your body to take his cock and his only. There was no way you could get off with your husband now.

As these revelations finally hit you, your orgasm hit you as well and your back is arch off the bed as a loud moan was ripped from your throat. "John! Yes! Ah~ 'm c-cumming!" You cried out, a little too late for that warning. John could feel you tighten around his cock as you came, "that's it princess… cum around daddy’s cock," he grunted as his orgasm wasn't far behind. Finishing inside of you, you swore you felt his semen entering your womb from how deep he was. 'I'm being impregnated…'

John pulled up your dazed form to his chest, pressing a chaste kiss to your swollen lips. "Such a good little secretary, always treating me so good," he cooed before giving a few lazy thrust, his cock already hardening again, making you whimper in response. "You go another round, can't you? I didn't send your bastard husband on that mission just for you to tap out on me," you weakly nodded your head. "Good girl," he chuckled.

'Forgive me darling' you thought, as John resumed his movements, fucking into you slow and steady while kissing you.

'You're gonna have to wait until my second pregnancy.’

[robininthelabyrinth]

Beautifully Spent

aka Five Times Lan Qiren Left The Lan Sect Behind

- Chapter 4 -

Lan Qiren’s lips were bloody from coughing.

Coughing and coughing, choking on blood until it flowed from all seven apertures, and he couldn’t seem to stop no matter how hard he tried.

And he did try – he didn’t dare let anyone see him now.

The injury was a few years old now, and would never leave him, yet most of the time it was under control, manageable. If anyone saw his current state, they might ask what had happened to trigger this current attack.

The original injury had happened when the Wen sect had invaded the Cloud Recesses. Lan Qiren had maintained their shields to the best of his ability, spending life as well as power to keep them back long enough for Lan Xichen to take the sect’s most precious books and escape; when he could hold on no more, he had taken his sword and his guqin both, and tried to fight back as best as he could. He was no fighter, in his view, but his swordsmanship was decent enough and he knew the Lan sect spells of destruction well – though that, too, had exhausted his spiritual energy.

And then there had been Wen Xu.

Wen Xu had broken Lan Wangji’s leg, Lan Qiren remembered, before taking him away to the Nightless City as a hostage. He remembered that, hated him for that; he would have endured any pain a thousand times over rather than let Lan Wangji be hurt. And yet, shamefully, he hated Wen Xu for hurting Lan Wangji at least in part because he didn’t want to think about how Wen Xu had treated him. ‘A teacher for a day, a father for a lifetime’ – Lan Qiren had never taught Wen Xu, but Wen Xu had feelings about his father that he didn’t dare express to the man himself, and it seemed that having any measure of authority was enough to draw his ire.

After, Lan Qiren had saved his own life through his excellent memory and grasp of healing spells, as well as a newly discovered ability to cast them even through such imperfect mediums as broken whistling or barely audible tapping. When his own life had been preserved, he had unwisely thrown himself into using his abilities on those others in his sect that needed it, the ones on the verge of death, stabilizing their spirits even as their doctors raced to heal their bodies. And so, by the time the doctors had finally reached him, there was no helping it; the overreach had crippled him, leaving horrific spiritual wounds that would never fully heal for the rest of his life. Wounds which were aggravated by stress.

The Sunshot Campaign had been – very stressful.

There had been nothing anyone could do about that, of course. His nephews were in danger, his sect in pieces; he had gone from a puppet interim leader, useful only for warming the seat for the next generation, to a leader of displaced refugees, painstakingly rebuilding after disaster. When the war started in earnest, he had even taken on the mantle of general, no matter how poor his fighting skills or his health – his sect needed him, his nephews needed him, and so he would serve.

He had served.

He had fought in battles both actual and political, using his sword and his music and his knowledge of the rules equally as weapons, and now at the end of the war Lan Xichen was sect leader in truth, as he ought to be. Even the sect elders that had so bedeviled Lan Qiren - those that had survived, anyway - were subordinate to his rule, as they should be.

And Lan Wangji…

Lan Wangji had survived the war. They had been happy for a time, they had been rebuilding – and then – and then –

Lan Qiren pressed his hand to his mouth as he coughed, the bitter and metallic taste of blood on his lips. His eyes blurred, and he thought he might be leaking blood from his eyes again, and that only happened in the very worst attacks of disordered qi.

No one must see.

No one must ask why.

In order to avoid anyone seeing him, Lan Qiren turned to make his way off the main path, blindly blundering forward, allowing his legs to go wherever they would, relying on ingrained habit more than actual sense to avoid crashing into something. He wasn’t sure where he ended up collapsing onto hands and knees, choking and gasping for air, desperately trying to calm his disordered mind and disheveled spirit, but no one had raised an alarm to summon a doctor or Lan Xichen, which meant it was good enough.

He didn’t want a doctor.

He didn’t want Lan Xichen, either. If Lan Xichen asked him what the matter was, he would be obligated to respond – do not tell lies. But no, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t say, not even if he was asked; rather, he would refuse to answer, opting for the punishment for refusal to obey his sect leader rather than reveal the truth. But that in itself would be a sort of answer: Lan Xichen would try to figure out what had caused the fit, and probably would, and then they would know.

They would all know.

“Shufu?”

Lan Qiren trembled and turned his face away as if that would help. He could scarcely hear, see only in vague blurs. Coughs wracked his body, the fault of his own stupid and uncontrollable emotions that caused his qi to become unstable and his mind to be too unsettled to play himself calming music to control it –

“No doctor,” he rasped, reaching out for Lan Xichen’s hands, for it must be Lan Xichen that had come to him. Lan Xichen respected him, he could ask him to help hide away – perhaps he could ask him to trust him, to not ask any questions. His nephew, turned headstrong in the war, might not listen, but he could always ask…

The hands that took his own were callused in familiar ways, the marks of the sword and the guqin alike; it was the signifying marks of any member of the Lan sect. But it was also familiar in other ways, too, and Lan Qiren sighed in relief, recognizing the little details – the tiny circular scar on the thumb that came from an adventurous cooking accident at age five, the slightly protruding knuckles that the diviners said suggested stubbornness, the absence of calluses unique to playing the xiao.

“Wangji,” he murmured. “Wangji, why are you here? You’re not well…”

Lan Wangji was supposed to be in seclusion.

No, that was a lie, and do not tell lies. Lan Wangji was supposed to be lying in bed, healing from the horrible injury they’d inflicted on him. Thirty-three strikes with the discipline whip, scarring him for life…it had been the lightest punishment Lan Qiren could devise that would satisfy his sect and the demands of justice and yet salvage Lan Wangji’s reputation, allowing him to go free in the future. It was the greatest kindness Lan Qiren could orchestrate given what Lan Wangji had done: he had attacked his own sect elders, violently defending a murderer even as the man wrought havoc and brought death to his own kin. He had gone even further than what his father had done, and the sect had been livid.

A punishment was necessary, and only the form was the question.

Lan Qiren had himself devised the punishment that had nearly crippled his nephew, knowing that pain and loneliness were things could be borne and healed in time, knowing that isolation could not be. He remembered He Kexin’s imprisonment, the way she looked into the future and saw nothing but more of the same, and he knew, too, that a bad reputation could be as imprisoning as the walls of a prison.

He had tried to pick the right punishment. He had tried to salvage the most important parts of Lan Wangji’s soul, his life, his future. Had he done enough?

Lan Wangji had accepted the imposition of discipline, at least; he had even demanded it, when Lan Xichen tried to find additional ways to mitigate it further. And then, when it was done, he had refused to speak to either Lan Xichen or Lan Qiren since, even though they came regularly to his side to play healing music and supervise the doctors as they cared for him.

It had by now been nearly two years, and he still did not speak to them. The last words he had said to them were an exhortation to care for the war orphan he had adopted –

Lan Qiren spat black blood onto the ground.

“Shufu!”

When Lan Qiren next opened his eyes, his head still spinning a little, he was lying on the bed in the Gentian House. He recognized it, of course, and not just from its time as He Kexin’s prison. Lan Wangji had stubbornly picked it as the place in which he would enter seclusion – it was far enough out of the way to be an acceptable suggestion. Lan Qiren nearly laughed as he realized how he must have gotten there, why Lan Wangji was able to be the one to find him: his body still remembering to walk the path to visit He Kexin even though he had not gone even once since her death.

He stopped himself from laughing only because he knew that any laughter would be tinged with unhealthy hysteria.

Beside his bed, Lan Wangji was sitting in the place that Lan Qiren usually sat, pale-faced and tired, playing back to Lan Qiren the same songs of healing that they played for him – mostly Lan Qiren, really, since Lan Xichen’s duties kept him very busy, and moreover the sight of Lan Wangji, injured as he was, caused Lan Xichen great distress.

Lan Xichen preferred to distance himself from the things that caused him distress, and Lan Qiren could scarcely blame him, even if he himself was now counted among their number. He was a reminder of what they had joined hands to do to Lan Wangji. If Lan Qiren could turn away from his own face in the mirror, he would do so, so how could he blame Lan Xichen for a bit of coldness, a bit of distance?

If it made Lan Xichen feel better, Lan Qiren would take all the blame for everything, but he even couldn’t do that properly.

“You shouldn’t strain yourself,” he said to Lan Wangji, whose fingers stilled on the guqin. “Do not be reckless with your qi or spend your spiritual energy carelessly. It will injure you further, and your health is paramount –”

“Shufu,” Lan Wangji said, and his voice was hoarse for lack of use. “Your health is important, too.”

Lan Qiren shook his head in negation. “Wangji, one day your wounds will heal and you will leave this place,” he said, and it was suddenly urgent for Lan Wangji to understand. “You are angry with us now, I know, whether for inflicting the punishment on you or for standing against your love, but it was the only way to keep others from knowing – if your reputation is clean and your health good, you will be able to go anywhere you like, as often as you like. You won’t have to stay…”

As I did, he thought but did not say. He was accustomed to biting his tongue about things like that – he was accustomed by now not even to think it. It was only the agony that had brought it back to him, for a little while.

“Shufu,” Lan Wangji said, and his voice shook. Lan Qiren regretted nothing more in his life than causing his nephews pain, and yet he had had a hand in so much of it. “Shufu, what happened? Why are you like this?”

“Wen Xu –”

“Not generally. Today. Why would you not see a doctor?”

Lan Qiren faltered.

“Shufu?”

Lan Wangji should know, Lan Qiren thought. “I was concerned,” he admitted.

Lan Wangji frowned.

There was no kind way to put it. “Sizhui’s original surname was Wen.”

Lan Wangji stiffened.

He knew, then. Of course he knew.

“No one else knows,” Lan Qiren assured him. “The fever erased most of his memories, and he is very young. No one has any reason to suspect he is anything more than the nameless war-orphan you presented him as, and I will not tell anyone, not even if they ask; I would evade it, and take punishment rather than answer if they ask directly. And yet it is so dangerous – there are so many cultivators, here and elsewhere, that swore blood feud against the Wen for what they did, vowing to eliminate them root and branch until none of them were left…”

“Not you?”

“Oaths must be taken seriously,” Lan Qiren said. “After seeing what an oath of vengeance did to Nie Mingjue, however well meant it had been at the start, how could I ever swear any oath that involved killing?”

Lan Wangji nodded slowly. “How did you learn of it?”

“He forgot most of his memories, but not all – he said some things that made me think of it, and I remember, as few others do, what Wen Xu looked like, when he was young. When you think about it, there are many hints, whether in terms of timing or the known existence of a child at the Burial Mounds; that he has not yet been discovered has been largely through the beneficence of fate.”

Fate, and the fact that Lan Wangji had been in seclusion, although Lan Qiren was loathe to mention it.

Up until now, Lan Qiren had been the one largely in charge of raising little Lan Sizhui, a temporary measure while Lan Wangji healed. As a result, people generally assumed that he had been the one to adopt him – no one would expect him to take up the Yiling Patriarch’s bastard Wen child, as the people traveling through Yiling had once called him. But when Lan Wangji came out and took charge of him once more, Lan Qiren wasn’t so sure that the pretense would last; his sect, at least, knew how Lan Wangji felt about Wei Wuxian, and they might put together the truth just as he had done…

Lan Qiren could not guarantee that the Lan sect would be a safe place for Lan Sizhui. He could do his best, and would; he could keep the secret, he could try to muddy the waters and hide the facts, but if it ever got out…

It would only need one person to be blinded by anger and hate and the trauma of war. Only one person to raise their hand, and raise their voice, and then everything would fall to pieces. And yet, knowledge was an inexorable river, pressing against a dam – it could not be stopped, only averted…

“My health is poor,” Lan Qiren said, a terrible idea presenting itself to him in one moment and appearing the only possible answer in the next. “Perhaps I should go seek somewhere that would improve it.”

Lan Wangji looked at him, puzzled.

Lan Qiren met his eyes. “Your brother does not speak to me much these days,” he admitted, and ignored the flash of pain and anger in Lan Wangji’s eyes. Even if Lan Wangji disapproved, Lan Qiren did not blame Lan Xichen for it, even if it disappointed him; he understood the emotions behind his eldest nephew’s retreat all too well. “He would consent if I sought a retreat to some more restful place – and I think he would allow me an escort.”

Understanding lit Lan Wangji’s eyes. “Myself and Sizhui?”

“At least until the boy is old enough to know what to say and what not to say,” Lan Qiren confirmed, though in all honesty he wasn’t sure how long that would take, or if Lan Wangji, once released, would ever willingly come back.

“But – shufu – your teaching –”

“Who am I teaching now? There was no time for classes during the Sunshot Campaign, and we are still rebuilding; there are no classes to be held now. Other than helping your brother, who scarcely needs it, I have nothing else to do – and anyway my health really is as bad as all that. It may do well for you to get some experience in the world.”

To know what it was like to be free, Lan Qiren meant. Lan Wangji was still weak, but the worst of the discipline whip had faded into scars. It would be possible for him to go.

Lan Wangji considered for a little while.

“Yes,” he said eventually, and then suddenly smiled, which Lan Qiren had not seen him do in years and years, long ago, before the whip, before the Sunshot Campaign and the burning of the Cloud Recesses, back in the days before his too-serious adolescence… “Shufu can play the guqin as we go.”

Lan Qiren felt his ears heat up at the reminder of his old dream. “Wangji, really! I’m too old and respectable to take up as a traveling musician.”

“Not at all,” Lan Wangji said, looking pleased with himself. “Perhaps we will stay in inns instead of stables and play music to your former students rather than to strangers, but it will be good.”

Perhaps so. That was the longest sentence he had heard Lan Wangji utter in ages – perhaps it would be good for him to go, too, rather than just being for Lan Sizhui’s sake.

“I will raise it with Xichen,” Lan Qiren said, but Lan Wangji shook his head and pressed him back down.

“I will talk to Brother myself,” he said firmly. “You rest.”

Lan Qiren watched him go.

Perhaps it would work out after all, he thought, and closed his eyes. Perhaps…

[neko-rogers]

But It’s Better If You Do

Trying to keep your relationship with your professor was easy enough, until you learned that someone had found out about it.

words: 7,424 tags: manipulative!peter, explicit noncon/dubcon elements, degredation, implied overstimulation, blackmailing, kidnapping, college student and professor relationship, 

a/n: whew this had a lot of words compared to what i usually write. plus, since im bad at titles, i’ll just use my fav song titles lmao. (ps. erik lehnsherr aka magneto is here and im just glad i could put him in my little fictional world bc im d biggest slut for him)

     A complete lie, you just did not want to deal with college fuck boys.

     The man in front of the class was practically pouring his heart out into the lecture. The chalkboard was filled with white letterings from left to right, not knowing where to start as you take down notes.

     “It is important to keep in mind that bimolecular structure and function are dictated by the properties of the medium in which they are dissolved,” your professor explains while continually pacing from one end to the other among the students seated at the first row.

     You decided to seat around the middle to the last row, knowing it was the least obvious way for other students in the class to notice how much you fawn over your Organic Chemistry professor rather than the subject itself.

     Honestly you could listen to him talk for hours. All those information he had been discussing would not actually process through your thoughts. You knew that better than anyone.

     But who honestly would invalidate your reason? Everyone can probably relate to hating Chemistry, no matter what subcategory it is. 

     Considering that this was probably one of the most difficult courses you had in your program. You were just thankful and lucky enough you landed on one of the hottest professors amongst the campus.

     “Hey what did Professor Lehnsherr say about the problems during synthesis of proteins?” Peter asks.

     In spite of being fortunate about everything else about this subject, you were not quite happy about Peter Parker following you around like a lost puppy. Especially during the classes you both have alike. 

     The boy constantly asks so much questions as if you were the teacher already. In addition, he seemed smart enough to figure things out yet somehow he keeps on bugging you for reassurance.

     You did not want to be rude. He has not done anything to completely deserve your rage, however he was definitely getting on your nerves.

     Honestly you would not want to be infuriated over his consistent queries, but you were just as distracted as he was, maybe even more. With this, you were looking dumber to him each day. 

     To anyones pride, it was probably a kick in the stomach. You knew you were not the brightest in this class, but it was best to leave the information to yourself. No need for anyone to point out how mindless you were.

     And you really were not. You had other Science subjects you totally excel at. Sadly, Chemistry was just not one of them.

     “Well, uh, I don’t think I got that part either.” You look aside where he was seated and awkwardly smiled at him before mentioning an apology, “Sorry, Peter.”

     In return, Peter smiled at you and dismissed the question. You were not so sure whether to forget about it or take even the least bit of offense. You felt a little mocked by how easily he did it and innocently he smiled, but maybe you were just overthinking this through.

     “It’s fine,” he tells. “I just didn’t get the third bullet, but I’ll try to review it in the textbook when I get home.”

     “Oh okay, sure.”

     “Speaking about reviewing,” Again, Peter tries to start another discourse.

     “I was wondering if you got reviewers for the upcoming text for next week? We all know how difficult Professor Lehnsherr’s exams can get, right?” He lets out a forced chuckle, assuming it could lighten the mood.

     As much as he tried to make small talks with you, almost everyday, today you really feel like you did not want to return the favor. Especially after having to bring up the test next week.

     “I don’t really make reviewers, I usually just scan the books I have at home.”

     Lies. You probably have a box full of index cards and sticky notes in your room.

     You tried to use every studying tips every corner of the Internet could give. All those study-life hacks that really did not help much but pile up to your disorganized state of mind.

     You fucking tried to study Chemistry. You really did.

     “What, you don’t?!” He suddenly exclaims, not realizing the loudness of his voice as it almost caught the attention from people at front. “You seem to be busy all the time though. It’s like I always catch your writing or reading something in class.”

     Maybe your mood was just off but it definitely seemed weird for him to say that. Though, you did not want to make something from what he said. It was not worth your time.

     “I guess people are not always what they seem to be, yeah?”

     Again, Peter gives out that soft chuckle and smile, “Then I guess so. You do make a point.”

      He does not argue with you any further.

     “Can I at least borrow your Physics book? I only bought Chemistry and Biotech for the semester. Didn’t know they would actually utilize it for once,” he scoffs. 

     At first you hesitated. You were reviewing for it too, but you already felt bad for being no help whenever he asks a question and often times disregarding him when your mood if off. Plus, you did just make it look like you were not much of a study-freak.

     “Okay.”

     He instinctively fist pumps the air and looks at you with a wide, grateful grin. “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver, Y/N.”

     “Don’t mention it.” You grab the book he needs from your bag and hands it to him. He accepts it and places it inside his while also clearing the rest of his things.

     Looking at his digital wristwatch wherein he raised his index finger up as if he figured something out of it, he says, “He’s going to dismiss the class in a few minutes. We should get ready for Cell Biology next period.

     Oh how you hated it. Were you jumping to conclusions? Or was this boy really trying to be too close with you? Or was he just being nice and informing you to prepare ahead?

     God, you did not give Peter Parker the right to cloud up your thoughts like this.

     “Thanks,” you say, “but I need to talk to Professor Lehnsherr after class. Have to, uh, consult him about my concept paper that he made us submit last week.”

     As he tidies his notebooks up and carelessly shoves it inside his backpack, he immediately looks back at you with a confused expression, “Oh, I can always wait for you–”

     “It’s fine, Peter. Thank you though.” Two of your hands were instinctively waving in front of you, a meek gesture for him to stop coddling you or whatever move he had been trying to make at you.

     “Are you sure? I–”

     And if you were ought to be saved further from lashing out over Peter’s incessant attempts, you finally heard the words any student was longing to hear. “Class dismissed. I’ll see you all on Monday.” 

     “Eri–err, Professor Lensherr just dismissed the class. Better catch up to him before he heads out,” you hurriedly said. And with a loud slam from your notebook, you quickly shut him out. In addition, you practically shoved every thing in front of you into your bag without sparing a second glance.

     One strap of your back was slung over your shoulder as you hurriedly flew down the aisle. Professor Lehnsherr was midway into packing his things before you interrupted and approached him.

     “Professor,” you call out. “I have a question. About the paper I handed in last week.”

     “Uhuh.” He faintly furrows his eyebrows, trying to hide his already obvious bewilderment. “I forgot which assignment was that, Ms. Y/L/N.”

     There were students still exiting in class. So you tried your best to make your conversation with him less suspicious. He was most likely doing the same. 

     “It was about the Chemistry-proposal thing.” You snapped your fingers a few times as you gathered your train of thought, but realizing it was not going effectively. “Well I just wanted to confirm it since, you know, I was hoping for any feedback from you throughout this week.”

     “I’m not sure if I have read it. I’ve certainly been busy this week,” he clarifies. “Nonetheless, we can talk about it later. Thank you for bringing it up. I’ll make sure to follow it up in my schedule, Ms. Y/N.”

     Both of you made your way out the door once there were only a minuscule amount of students left in class. You probably had been looking at your professor with gushing stares, but you doubt the other people in the room could notice it. They were farther away from where both of you stood, much less would they be able to hear what the two of your were talking about.

     “Oh thank you so much, sir!” You almost cried out and jumped in joy while reaching through the threshold. Moreover, you composed yourself before mumbling out, “I’ll see you later, Eric.” 

     In which you were certain no one would have heard it besides him.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

     “I’m sure you’ll get a good grade in the exams, Y/N,” Eric leans back to his seat with a humble smile upon his face. 

     “Really? I doubt so, there’s a kid in your class that keeps bugging me out to a study date, or whatever you call it,” you sneer. You lick your lips as you finish taking a sip around the wine glass, setting it down and looking back at the man you were having dinner with. “It’s getting very annoying though, he surely knows how to get on my nerves.”

     “I’m sure he’s just trying to flirt with you, like any other college boys do.” He optimistically and maturely lays out the options. “It’s pretty normal for anyone to chase someone they are fond of, especially for young adults like you.”

     It was a pretty obvious sign that he was trying to let his message reach you. 

     “Well, I apologize for my standards of men,” you say. “I just want to skip the whole heartbreak in college and character development. All that stuff you usually see in a typical teen romance movie.”

     You sigh, looking down and saying, “I already found a man for me. Why would I stoop down for some guy who’s most likely wanting something from me, and dumping me once he got what he wanted.”

     “Y/N, I don’t blame you for liking men that’s ten years older than you,” Eric assures. “But I want you to realize that you still have a lot to look forward after graduating

     “And I look forward for you too!” You tried to not raise your voice, though having dinner in his house wouldn’t really catch anyones attention. “I can’t wait to finally graduate from second semester and be able to spend more time, publicly, with you.”

     “Yes, I understand, honey.” He places his hand over yours as he tries to calm you down. “Like I said, I just want you to make sure that you’ve clearly thought this through.”

      Eric adds, “There’s plenty of men out there. I don’t want to take away your opportunity of experiencing something new at such a young age.”

     “I’m turning twenty-four! I promise you I’m thinking everything through.” Your voice was much weaker than a few seconds ago. The evident tone of strength fades even with one glance from the man in front of you. You felt yourself shrink in your seat. But you were sure he does not intend to frighten you into compliance.

     “Sorry,” you pout. “Didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

     “I understand, and I won’t pressure you any more tonight, okay?” He tries to uplift your mood, detecting quickly the shift of the room’s atmosphere. “You deserve a good dinner tonight, like I promised, sweetie.”

     His smile made you calmer. It was then that you realized why you were attracted to a man like him even if he was still your teacher.

     The way he handles you in any given situation so sensibly. Though it may feels intimidating at first, he consequently tries to override the tone of the conversation which cheers you up.

     With one hand, he hold yours and gently draws it towards him at the same moment he leans his head down. Eric presses a kiss against the back of your hand and you butterflies immediately fill inside your stomach. “I love you.”

     “I love you too.” Every doubt you had entirely disappeared now. If there were hints of you hesitating to continue seeing Eric, they were certainly long gone now.

     “Let me drive you home after dinner,” he offers, like the gentleman he is.

     Eric always does make sure you get home safe. However, you both agreed that he drops you off at least a block away from your house. Just in case people around your neighborhood might catch you, or worse your parents.

     It was not like you were ashamed of your relationship with Eric. Cautious was the term.

     You were only a few months in seeing him. Fair enough, he was your second semester professor and the both of you met before that period.

     You were not only risking the wrath of your parents once they hear you’re dating an older man, let alone your Chemistry teacher. But you were also putting him at risk if ever his faculty finds out.

     Eventually, the two of you pack up and end your conversation. Other than talking about college, the two of you also talk more about yourselves which has progressed you into learning more about each other’s personalities and likes.

     He helps you out of his house and into the passenger seat of his car. It had been more than thrice wherein he drove you home, and the familiar scent of leather and the typical Glad air fresheners has clung onto your nose. You strap on your seatbelt on just as he was getting inside the driver’s side.

     The ride was not entirely dead silent. Eric made a few more small talks before finally turning a right which was where he usually drops you off. It amazes you how instantly he remembered the way to your home, as you instructed him the first time.

     “Thank you for tonight, like always, Eric.” 

     As always, you made your way out of his car prior to giving him a kiss. You only had to walk straight ahead, glancing at your home which had one dim light illuminating through one window.

     Upon entering the house, you figured your parents were already asleep and a hint of the living room lamp was present. Taking the benefit of not having to be interrogated by anyone, you rushed upstairs to your bedroom, turned on the lights, and immediately closed the door behind you with a sigh of relief. A smile was also visible after recalling your night with Eric.

     As you made your way towards your bed, a piece of paper lays obvious in the middle of it. Your sheets were flattened and tidied, so you could obviously detect when something is placed on top of it. You have no memory of leaving it early in the morning before you left too.

     When picking the paper up, you realized it was a piece of polaroid film. Its back was facing you, having no idea what to expect at the front.

     At that point, the smile from your face turned into horror and all the color in you basically drained away.

     The picture displayed you and Eric at one dinner night out from a few days ago, you still remember. It could have been anything but malicious, but the way his hand was intertwined with yours as both of you laugh away without worries. It was clear as day, the light shining perfectly at the both of you. Anyone can conclude what was happening in the picture.

     You did not know this day would come. The picture was taken from Eric’s home to prevent such things like this from happening. So it puzzled you just as much at it terrified you.

     This was definitely someone who had been stalking either one of you. It was not a mere instance like paparazzis who catch celebrities dating on the streets of New York.

     Someone definitely have been observing the two of you.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

     Days have passed, a week almost. Examinations are scheduled for tomorrow. 

     And you prayed that the picture you received would be the only thing terrorizing your dreams. But you were completely wrong.

     From thereon, you started to receive more pictures, specifically one every morning and night, from your past hangouts with Eric. It were simple shots but had the power to completely jeopardize either one of you, mostly him at stake though.

     It was obvious that the person behind this was definitely observing the two of you for a while. Probably even during the most earliest weeks when your relationship with him started.

     Though it may seem unfair, you did not mention anything about it to Eric. It was enough the he was keeping with you, his job, and himself private – which clearly was not working out so well. You felt like it was your responsibility to handle this situation. You were so sure you did not try to publicize anything and kept it on the low.

      Nevertheless, it was out there. Eric had not mentioned anything so you assumed he did not receive a picture like you did.

     Currently, you were seated at the farthest row at the back of the room, somewhat near the corner. Physics was your last subject and you could not wait but finally leave.

     In addition, you texted Eric that you would not be seeing him until after the exams. It was an easy excuse not to see him, saying that you wanted to focus on studying for it; however, you knew that you would just be busy thinking about the creepy stalker gallery you have been receiving.

     “Hey.” Unsurprisingly, a familiar voice whispers next to you which disrupts your heavy train of thoughts. “You finished studying for tomorrow? I’m about to end my review with Chemistry later.”

     “Cool.” Probably the one of the most basic replies in the universe. “I haven’t finished studying, I’m kind of dealing with a lot of things recently.”

     You made sure to generalize your answer, but enough for him to sympathize and at least give you some space.

     “Oh, sorry to hear about that.” Peter frowns. He takes his seat a few desks away from your left, leaving you to continue thinking. You were thankful for his gesture too.

     Surprisingly enough the boy barely bothered you for the entire lecture. You were still engrossed on finding out whoever was stalking you, even so dating back to boys you evidently rejected during the first semester – who badmouthed you immediately afterwards. There were not a lot of names, so it was easy to remember who was who.

     You traced back to each boy and remembered what they said after you told them you were not ready to enter a relationship – a complete lie, you just did not want to deal with college fuck boys.

     Just as you expected from any of them, rumors have spread out about you which was mostly shaming you physically or mentally. Some were milder insults than the other yet at the end of the day you did not care.

     “Fuck,” you whisper to yourself. “Who was that boy at Liz’s party.”

     Your eyes were sealed shut, recalling a list of names while using your thumb and middle finger to massage your temples. It was getting frustrating and mentally exhausting.

     After some time, you had so much word filling in and our of your brain that you were not aware that your own name was being called. Your heart practically skipped a beat after hearing it the first time, assuming that you were being called to recite an answer. But you became content after seeing that it was just Peter, who started tapping your arm to get your attention.

     “Huh?” You lightly shake your head before turning your head aside.

     “Oh, class was dismissed a few minutes earlier than usual–”

     “Don’t forget to answer the assignment regarding thermodynamic concepts found it the book. You’ll hand it in immediately on Wednesday.” The professor addresses the class as they were already carrying their bags and themselves out the room.

     You start placing your stationeries inside yours, packing your other things up until it was only a pair of earphones and your phone left in front. Peter stood near the aisle while looking at you just as you were zipping your bag shut.

     “Oh shoot, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he states out of nowhere causing you to furrow your eyebrows at him. “I forgot I still haven’t returned your Physics book I borrowed last week.”

     Nodding your head and standing up, you shrug it off. “It’s fine. You can return it tomorrow.”

     “Sure, but how will you do your Physics assignment?”

     Oh yeah. Your professor literally reminded the class a few seconds ago.

     “I think I might be able to do it overnight. How many pages is the task?”

     “Eight, or nine I think.” He frowns looking very guilty at you.

     “Shit,” you swore. That was a lot of pages than the usual assignments given.

     “Yeah, professor said it could help add points if you somehow get a bad grade at the tests.”

     “Never mind,” you tried to set his mistake aside. “I’ll try to do it within overnight tomorrow. I can ask for help from my friend tomorrow morning and–”

     “Wait! I realized you can stop by my apartment to get it.”

     “Oh–er, Peter, I don’t think I have time to–

     “It’s just nearby the campus, I promise,” he assures and adds, “it wouldn’t be a hassle, it’s probably on your way home anyway so it won’t make a difference.”

     “Uhm.” You were doubtful of him. 

     However, you did realize that you did not have anything to do after class. You were keeping distance with Eric for the meantime which meant that your schedule was mostly vacant after this.

     “Please,” he begs, “I feel so bad for keeping it the whole week. I swear it’s like a few blocks from here.”

     “Would it take more than twenty minutes?” You purse your lips, convincing yourself that you would rather force yourself to study at home than spend it at someone’s apartment.

     “I only take around ten minutes to walk so,” he answers. “Unless you’re a slow walker, of course.” The tone of his voice seeming to be joking.

     Again, he pleads. This kid will not fucking budge.

     “Fine,” you blurt out. Though, you realized your sudden-almost lash out moment at the boy that you made sure to reiterate it but slower, “I mean, sure. I can stop by your apartment to pick up my book.”

     An awaited smile and sense of agreement washes over you.

     Peter then leads the way as you walked behind him, maintaining a short distance so people would not throw out any suspicious looks. Like in every college, everyone knows just how fast gossips formulate and rumors spread.

     If you think about it though, it might avert anyone’s suspicion – mainly pertaining to your creepy stalker – with you and your Professor. But you were not prepared for that yet, maybe some time when you can finally think about its consequences through.

     True to his word, as the both of you exited the campus, it took a short time before the boy in front of you told that you were about to enter through the entrance to the building of his apartment. You were not so sure if it was really a momentary walk or because you were so focused on thinking and keeping a distance.

     At some points he did often look back in case you got lost from following him. Plus, like always, he asked you simple questions either about your day or your subjects to make small talk. In which case, you were barely answering him but definitely progressed compared to when he attempted for previous times during class.

     In addition, as the two of you walked down the block, the number of faces you could only assume was in college decreased. Meaning that the glares at you eased up.

     “Well, here’s my location.” A loud huff follows as he uses a key to unlock the door for the entrance to the building, “It wasn’t that far, was it?”

     “Yeah, I guess it wasn’t that far.” You agree as he holds the door for you and then walks right after you.

     As Peter leads you upstairs onto around the fourth level, he proceeds to walk along the corridors. The array of same beige colored doors with small golden indents of unit numbers paraded along it too. Eventually he stops and inserts a key into the lock, twisting it until hearing the unlocking sound.

     For a moment you hesitated to follow him. You just wanted your book and you were sure he can give it to you on a shorter span than your walk from campus to here. Was it that troublesome?

     Entering his complex, you discovered how minimalistic it looked. To be fair it seemed quite small, the living room instantly greeting you through the entrance and a kitchenette at the side. But since his things were tidied up, it looked roomy.

     You instinctively close the door behind you, slightly aware that it did not create a locking sound. Following Peter, you took a few more steps until you stood still at the passageway between his living room and entryway.

     “Do you want a drink?” Peter asks.

     “No thank you.” You were still trying to subtle. “I just want my Physics book, Peter. Please?”

     He looked at you and paused for a split second. You could feel the frown behind the expressionless look. “Yeah. Okay. Sure,” he nods for a few times before turning around and proceeding to a seemingly narrow hallway. “I’ll get it in my room. Be back in a second.”

     Your feet faintly paced back and forth, still where you stood a few meters between the entrance and living room. After a few more minutes, Peter emerges carrying the familiar book with one hand.

     He approaches you within a few stops but stops in his tracks, leaving a distance from you. “Well uh,” he starts as his chin was tucked.

     “I just want to tell you something before I hand you back your book.” He looks up at you with really pleading eyes. During other instances in university, you were definitely familiar with that look. However, this one probably ranked as one of the most downhearted ones. 

     You did not want to feel regretful for him. Though it definitely feels like you just kicked a puppy.

     “Was is it?”

     “I love you,” he blurts out as his face goes back from hiding and looking down.

     It seemed awkward. You were somewhat expecting it, but you were also hoping that this day would not come – or not at least until you graduate and leave the university.

     “Oh.” You honestly did not want to react.

     Were you going to say sorry? How about thank you? Would it be better if you said you did not like him back? Or will the best response be that you are already taken?

     “Peter, I–”

     “Are you really dating Eric?” He shots up with eyes appearing almost teary.

     What. The. Fuck.

     “No,” you mutter. It was not much of an answer to his question. It was more on being quite horrified as your mind started jumping to conclusions.

     The amount of things running around your mind right now was immeasurable.

     Firstly, anyone could make two and two out of what he said, especially knowing that no one knows it even so around your circle of friends.

     Secondly, you should have thought better. Your doubts with Peter should have been grater and you totally underestimated him. However, some part of you prayed that he was just an annoyingly awkward nerd who follows his friends regarding flirting tips.

     Lastly, you turned around and ran.

     You probably got your way with opening the door and taking two steps out. It was not long before you felt arms wrap around your waist and either side of your arms. You were then lifted and pulled behind while you tried to kick at the air as an escape. Did not work though.

     Peter was surprisingly stronger than you thought. He already seemed fairly muscular at class, hiding behind those long sleeved sweaters and flannels.

     Eventually the last thing you remember was the image of the door of his apartment open while you get sucked into the room further. Everything went black afterwards.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

     When you felt that you were slowly restoring to consciousness, you were aware of the pounding at the back of your head and your arms.

     You tried to move your hands, wanting to press against the parts of your body that were aching. But you felt incapacitated as your wriggled your wrists around and felt an unfamiliar sticky fluid enveloping around them.

     “Glad you’re awake,” a voice says. “Does your head hurt?”

     You tried to open your eyes, the dark lighting of the room not cooperating with your vision. A light from the window and a lamp were the only things that helped you form something out of the void. 

     From there you saw Peter Parker sitting closely beside you at the edge of the bed.

     Hell please let this be a nightmare.

     “What–” You groan, “What do you want from me.”

     Your mind was building up your anger yet your body says otherwise. You felt exhausted and heavy.

     Peter shushed you in a caring manner, “We’ll talk when you feel better. I’ll let you get more rest okay, sweetie?”

     “Uhh.”

     That was what you could remember the most. If you have awoken for other times in between your sleep, then you surely did not have an idea of it.

     When you finally woke up, the level of your grogginess felt little to none already. You looked around and saw that the room was still dark and seemingly still nighttime.

     As your head was twisting from side to side, you saw Peter appear from the doorway carrying a translucent cup filled with water in one hand. “Hey, you’re finally awake.”

     Instead of replying to him, your wrists writhe beneath the fluid that you are still not familiar of. You could not really look up to get a good view of what it was, but it was wet, sticky, and felt like super glue.

     On the other hand, both your legs, ankles, and feet were free. The back of your thighs bounced against the bed as you struggled, but it would not do much since your arms were practically stuck.

     “Fuck,” you grumble.

     “That won’t help. You’re pretty much stuck there,” he says, Then he takes a seat at the edge of the bed, alike where you remembered him positioned from earlier, “Might as well talk to me until I let you go.”

     “Okay then, when will you let me go?” Your voice was calm hoping you could talk your way out of this mess. 

     “If you behave for me like a good girl, okay?”

     Shivers went up your spine as you cringed at his statement.

     Immediately, your mood shifts from calm to furious after hearing his disturbing bargain. Then purposely rolling your eyes for him to see. “How the hell will I behave if you’re a creepy stalker! You disgust me!”

     Peter hums, displaying a look wherein he seems like he was thinking. You were not sure if it was sarcastic or not, either way it annoyed the hell out of you. “Creepy stalker sounds overstated, it was more on being curious.”

     You scoff as well as exclaim, “You sent me photographs of me and Eric at his house! Fucking hell, Peter.”

     “Oh yeah that part.” He slyly pouts his lips to the side as he comes to realize what he had done, “I guess it was a bit creepy–”      “What do you mean a bit? That was invasion of privacy!”

     Despite being trapped, both your hands balled into a fist, feeling very furious at his dense answers. “I was living my own life! I kept my relationships to myself,” you cry out.

     “Yes, but you weren’t completely living your life,” he whispers while gently combing his hair through the front of your hair. “You deserve much more than someone who couldn’t proudly tell that you’re his girl. Is he even a man? Do you really enjoy that kind of life, sweetie?”

     “We were happy,” you weep. The evident crack on your voice was a signal that you were about to cry though you were not sure if it was because you were held hostage or because you were worried for Eric.

     No one would understand your situation with him right now. Especially Peter.

     “Trust me you weren’t,” he scoffs. “You deserve so much more, and I can give you that.”

     “I’d rather be alone forever than be with you, asshole!” Your voice was inconsistent, clearly affected by how fast Peter’s mood also shifts quickly.

     You also figured you were not looking entirely fresh while crumbling beneath him. Drops of tears and sweat were all over your face and neck, both your eyelids felt swollen, and your nose was almost stuffed.

     Peter stand from the edge of the bed and advances to his desk from the side. A harsh bang echoed throughout the room as your body twitched out of shock.

     “What does that dick have that I don’t?!” He grits his teeth as the curves of his jaw intensifies. A displeased look was written all over his face. 

     “P-please let me go.”

     “I need you to answer, sweetie. We going nowhere unless you answer!” He was never going to let you go if you were not going to cooperate. 

     Every step he takes closer back to the bed just increases your heart beat further. He had rolled the sleeves of his sweater up to the edge of his elbows and you felt threatened looking at how firm his arms looked.

     “Peter, p-please,” you hiccup.

     As Peter returns to the edge of the bed, he does not hesitate anymore to keep a distance. His hands hover to either sides over your body and sets the left side of his head on your midriff, laying while also getting a good view of your vulnerable state.

     He does not even look life he was struggling to make an effort to keep you down, but you could feel how heavy he was and was barely giving you a chance to move around.

     “I can give you so much more, Y/N.” The way his gaze directs at you was definitely one of the creepiest things you have experienced. He had so much emotions yet completely lacked sympathy for your state of mind.

     Shutting your eyes, you only cried further. You felt a hand cup one of your cheeks as its thumb wipes away the pouring tears. Like a broken record, you only pleaded more, “Please let me go.”

     “I can’t.”

     “Why.” You bawled, realizing he has no plans of releasing you anytime soon despite it. “I won’t tell anyone about this, I p-promise.”

     “I know that,” he says, “but you’re going to run back to Eric, probably tell him too, right?”

     You did not want to answer, merely shaking your head as you resisted a cry from your lips. It was somewhat what you had planned, but now you were just scared shitless.

     “You won’t tell anyone but him cause no one knows about it other than you two, right?” He corners your words. 

     “Eric would lose his job if someone, especially your parents find out, right?” Hell he was correct. He most likely had been stalking you for so long to find out about it.

“You love him so much, you wouldn’t want to hinde

     It was terrifying that someone had been learning about you and your life for a while without your awareness.

     “Please stop. What do you want... money?” you whimper. 

     Peter did not seem likes normal college boy; he does not think like one, too, for sure. Anyone with a right mind would not do something like what he did. No one would have the guts to do so.

     “I just want you, Y/N. I want to give you what you deserve,” Peter answers as he sits up and leans his face closer to yours. His mouth leaves a small gap from your right ear as he whispers, “Let me make you feel good.”

     “No–”

     He cuts off your plea with a proposition, “If you let me, I might consider letting you free.”

     “You want that, right? Want me to let you go...” His hand combs through the other side of your face, “just let me show you that I can do way better than him.”

     Every ounce of your blood was trying not to give in. You were smart, you ought to find a way out of this. However, you realized that it will not be enough. You already struggled so much from the super glue around your wrists and you could not imagine how much more would it take now that Peter was on top of you.

     Eventually you stopped struggling and let him be. There was no way out of this than to let him do what he pleases.

     You feel his lips press against your ear first and then progresses over your cheek. His grip around your arms loosen after detecting that you stopped struggling beneath him. You could feel him smile on your skin, “That’s it, relax for me. Good girl.”

     His hand reaches to undo your pants as his lips drifted on yours to force their way on making out with you. Another hand then presses under your jaw and throat. “P-Peter,” you choke, feeling lightheaded after being unable to breath properly though your mouth until the grip had loosen.

     “Sorry, babe.”

     He soon descends from your face to your neck and collar region. You were so sure he was leaving marks on you as you felt him suck and nibble against your  skin. Like a controlling asshole he was, you expect to see bruises on your skin by tomorrow.

     Despite having your hands fastened, he still moves your shirt upwards past your head. It halts and hands loosely around your arms as you emerge topless beneath the boy.

     “Fucking beautiful,” Peter compliments your body under his breath.

     Although he seemed to have time on his hands, he does not leave a second wasted. He also goes to haul your pants past your legs and ankles. The growing look of impatience on his face says it all.

     Peter moves from your side and welcomes himself between your legs. He spreads them out to have enough space for his body and you could not feel more embarrassed than this.

     You grit your teeth over each other as you felt him press fingers against your cunt. Instinctively, you clench around nothing as he continues to play with your entrance, making sure you get entirely soaked under his touch.

     “You know you shouldn’t hold back. I know you’re loving it so far, your body says otherwise,” he teases before laying on his stomach and moving his head closer to your pussy.

     Without a warning, he licks a strip of you making the back of your thighs quake lightly. Peter senses your reaction and continues to do so, using his tongue to play around and poke inside of you until you were slowly giving in without even realizing it.

     Just as you thought you were getting used to his actions, he then inserts fingers inside you, feeling your warmth around it as he pushes it in and out.

     “Oh,” you moan.

     He continues, making sure he also does not leave your bud of nerves behind. The tip of his fingers and tongue alternate on playing against it, making you throw back your head out of pleasure.

     “I bet he doesn’t please you like this,” he scoffs.

     Eventually, at your vulnerable state, you could already feel yourself closing to an orgasm. Your toes curled as your temples throbbed, sealing your eyes shut as you accepted on giving in.

     You bit onto your lower lip, trying to resist a moan. Somewhere inside you, you were still trying to fight back and not let Peter have the satisfaction he had been craving.

     “You’re being so tight... Just let it out.” He coaxes and you hate how you did what he told you so.

     The extensive grin on his face seemed priceless. He pulled back and you were aware that you seemed exhausted beneath him. You assumed he was done with whatever he wanted to do with you.

     But when he started to take off his sweater and unbutton his pants, you realized it was far from over.

     As he presents himself just as naked in front of you, he again welcomes himself between your legs. This time you get a better view of him and his muscles and abs. He gets a good view of your body too for sure as his hand reaches to start stroking his dick.

     He places one hand on your thigh and pushes it farther to give him more room. Finally, he inserts in inside you and you automatically felt him throbbing between.

     There was a growing heat between the both of you, and it only intensified as Peter started to thrust his hips forward and backwards. There was not even a rhythm from him as he moves harder after hearing you softly moan underneath.

     The slapping sound echoes through the room that would eventually reek of sex and you felt ashamed that your body was enjoying all of this.

     “Ah… ah… ahh… agh….”

     “You’re starting to enjoy this, aren’t you?” He brags as one hand was reaching for your breasts while the other holds your thigh up. “Fucking slut.”

     Your body and mind were tired and could only hold so much longer. It was not a surprise when your stomach started to churn your the muscles in your thighs were cramping up.

     Peter did no help after seeing you starting to wear out. He tried leaning in to make out with you and expect to moan into his mouth. You did for a moment, a combination of both your drools were streaming down from the corner of your mouth.

     “We’re making a mess, huh,” he mumbles. “But I know you’re already a dirty fucking girl.”

     He proceeds to deprave you with statements, “Can’t believe you’re enjoying my cock better than that old man’s... Such a fucking whore.”

     You twist your head aside, trying to hide the fact that you feel like your temperature were burning up. You were so sure he could feel the increasing warmth of your walls either way.

     Your eyes were rolling back as you resist arching your back, which was not really a success as the amount of pleasure was overwhelming.

     As you writhe beneath him, you felt a hand on your cheek. It pushes your head back onto looking at front and at Peter. “I want you t look at me when you’re going to cum, sweetie,” he orders and you could not do much anyways.

     The second time you came was a whole other level. You never felt this with any person you slept with so far, rather not this fast and intense to say. “That’s it, fuck, you’re tighter than I could ever imagine.”

     Peter continues until it was his time to cum. The bed continues to move along with his pace and your body was basically abused to his liking.

     And even if you were not aware of it, the boy was practically thankful that his agency decided to agree to soundproofing his whole apartment – his motive being for personal reasons, which they did not question any time soon.

     You were helpless, you knew that. All you had in mind now was rest. Your eyelids were heavy and your mind was drifting to slumber.

     The last thing you remember was Peter moving over your body to come all around your chest like a painter with its paint brush creating a masterpiece from your chest to your core.

     “I love you.”

a/n: ily pls leave comments <3

[interact-if]

Day 6 of A/PI Heritage Month featured authors interview! Perceive Nines, me, yours truly!

Nines, author of Orthall Bay

A/PI Heritage Month Featured Author

[…]The name always stuck, regardless of how many foster families you fell under. It should be comforting that at least one aspect of you will always stay the same, but it’s a stark reminder of how isolated you are. A name with nothing to belong to, nothing to trace back to. Then again, you’ve managed to get this far just on your own.

In Orthall Bay, an in-development interactive fiction, you play as a young adult who grew up as an orphan. You have no knowledge about your parents, or any form of family. That is, until you get a phone call about a recently-passed man claiming to be your grandfather. Two things are certain when you arrive in the maritime town. One, Orthall Bay is seemingly idyllic. And two, there’s no such thing as perfect towns.

The question is, how deep does its roots go?

Author's Ko-fi

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!)

Q1: First of all, introduce us to your project! What is it about?

My current project is about you, an orphan, who moves to a fictional tourist town in California after being left as a beneficiary of your estranged late grandfather’s will. Orthall Bay is rich with supernatural myths and superstitious legends, and it has always thrived like that. Not long after your arrival, you start to notice that a lot of things about the seemingly arcadian town don't add up. At the center of it? You, and your equally estranged half-uncle.

Q2: If it’s not too spoilery, what are you most excited about your project?

Ooh, this is a bit tricky to answer! There’s so many things I’m looking forward to exploring with writing Orthall Bay, it’s hard to nitpick a few. Right now, I’m excited about building characters with depth that people would both be able to criticize and appreciate. It’s an easy choice to write characters you know your audience is coded to love and/or admire, but I want to explore the opportunities with character development depth that interactive fiction brings. Who knows, maybe I’m thinking of allowing my characters to go down the paths less taken.

Q3: What inspired the current project you’re working on?

Ah, man, I just know my October 2020 self is burying their head under a pillow right now. The idea for Orthall Bay was actually a mosaic of lines from fics of various fandoms, but what really set off the lightbulb was a line from a Teen Wolf fic. It’s very telling of the direction I want to take this project, so I won’t write it down, but I am going to leave a tiny crumb. One word: widdershins.

Q4: Do you pull from your own identity for inspiration? How has that been reflected in your work?

Orthall Bay is set in California which houses a sizable Asian-Pacific Islander population, but that being said, it’s not heavily focused on. A lot of my characters are A/PI but I can’t definitively say that I’m rooting from my own identity. It’s a supernatural book, and I’m drawing from all sorts of mythological creatures and lores and making them into my own. So, in a way, I’m allowing Orthall Bay to be a project where I let it take an identity of its own. I’m pretty sure I’ll come up with future projects that are more SEA-centric though!

Q5: What’s been your experience so far? With writing, with the IF community…

The jump from writing novels to writing interactive fiction was a bit of an adjustment. I haven’t been a very consistent writer, but most of my works were novels and its fixed worlds. Interactive fiction is different because you have to actively bind the story together in a way that makes your reader feel involved. And you have to be constantly aware of that. I still end up drafting a chapter, only to realize I forgot to lay out options that matter. It’s definitely a learning curve, but it’s worth it and very rewarding.

As for the IF community, I genuinely believe it’s one of the most welcoming and supportive communities I’ve had the pleasure of being a part of. Really, it’s heartwarming to see writers excited about their upcoming projects and being met with equal, if not more, enthusiasm from a potential audience. It’s not without flaws, sure, but the sheer amount of support you can garner is incredible. As a writer trying out a new medium, it’s one of the things that helped boost my confidence to continue working on my project.

Q6: Do you have any future projects in the works?

I do! GFTA is my baby, and I plan on nurturing it for a long time. Currently, I have about three ideas I’m considering to turn into actual projects, one of them being sci-fi and inspired by a game. As of now though, I’ll mostly be working on Orthall Bay. This is due to restrictions from my schedule, but it’s safe to say that I’ll be around for more than just a while. I’m absolutely dedicated to establishing my own platform within the IF community.

Q7: Finally, what piece of advice would you give to fellow authors?

Hmm, I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask since I’ve only recently started writing interactive fiction, but I’d like to say this: you are your first and last audience. Always. Every project starts off as self-indulgence to some degree or extent, and that’s okay. Write what you want to write, not what everyone demands. Pleasing your audience is a grey area and you won’t be able to satisfy everyone. It’s important to take criticism into account, but please remember you don't owe anyone anything for writing media that they actively have a choice whether or not to consume.

[woodsteingirl]

A case in suburbia, domestic dynamics, and a forever home. What could go wrong?

the moment i’ve been waiting for! chapter one is up now! read here or under the cut.

Cas and Dean were searching for a forever house. They had been pretty much since Cas got back from the empty. They were ready to distance themselves from hunting. Dean had always wanted a sort of suburban, white picket fence life, even if he didn’t admit it to anyone. And since he already admitted how he truly felt to Cas, why not throw his need for a domestic lifestyle into the mix. Cas was all for it. Ever since Jack had given up most of his powers to Amara, thus causing her to take his place as God and him almost human, Cas had been hoping for a place to raise him like a normal child. The bunker was great for hunting and a place for Cas, Dean, and Sam, but not so much for raising a 5-year-old kid.

House hunting had been a burden to bear, but they were making out alright. Up till this, they’d looked at about 3 other houses. They were all a no for different reasons. The first one Cas decided was in a school district that wouldn’t be good for Jack, the second didn’t have a big enough garage or backyard, and the third didn’t have enough bedrooms for all of their family to stay. With the whole credit card scam they’d been running for as long as they remember, budget wasn’t really a problem, but they didn’t want something extravagant.

There it was, 538 Chapel Street in Pine River Crossings. It wasn’t too far out of Lawrence, only a few hours' drive, and all the houses looked nice. Very cookie cutter, but that was sort of the appeal. They couldn’t guarantee that they would fit in with the traditional, upper middle-class people, but what the hell, if they could kill god they could take suburbia.

A few days passed, and they were set up to look at the home. They drove the hour and a half to the next medium-sized town with the belief in their minds that this was the one. It had all they needed, a two-car garage, a respectable school district, and two guest bedrooms. They were so caught up in this concept they made the mistake of not checking the news for the nearby areas. Once they arrived, a realtor who showed them around the dwelling greeted them. It was all they could ask for and more practically too good to be true, especially for people like them. The actual presentation of the house went over without too many problems. The person exhibiting the residence commented on how it had been on display for almost a month now, which was the first red flag. A house as nice as this, in a densely populated area, would usually not be on the market for that long in weeks unless there was some hidden con.

They signed on it not a day after seeing the house in person. It was all set up and they could officially start moving stuff in the next week. They officially shared the good news with everyone the day after they signed. Sam was beyond happy for them. Not only would he finally have a space to himself, he was proud of his brother for living the life he’d always wanted. Jack was thrilled that he would get to go to actual school and have friends that were his age and not cosmic entities. In the meantime, Cas did more research into the neighborhood. There was their hidden con. The newspaper Cas had pulled up on his phone said, “Local Couple Murdered in Own Home.”

“Dean, look at this.”

Okay, that was a setback. A murderer on the loose in the neighborhood they were moving into was not exactly what he had planned, but he had delt with worse. “Alright, that could be a problem.”

“I think it’s a little bigger than a problem,” Cas retorted.

“Is it our type of thing or just something local law enforcement could deal with?”

Cas read on in the article, “the couple was stabbed, there was no sign of forced entry, neighbors reported nothing amiss besides lights flickering before the murder. The weapon, as well as the perpetrator, was never found. No official suspects have been labeled, everyone has seemed to have an alibi.”

“It definitely sounds like our thing. Lights flickering, no breaking and entering, and all.”

They decided they could pose as residents, as it seemed perfectly normal for the newcomers to be concerned about the literal murderer on the loose. Since Cas was newly human, and Jack was, well, 5, Dean thought they might need outside help. Being out of practice to spend more time with your husband and child really had its fallbacks. Sam was off the table as backup. He was out of town and Dean didn't want to interrupt his first weekend without him in god knows how long. Plus, they needed someone who wouldn't draw too much attention to their family dynamic.

“Hey, Cas, what do you think about calling in Claire to help us with this one? You think she’d do it?”

“Calling her in for help is a good idea, whether or not shed actually do it is another question.”

“I’ll call and ask, and if she wants to help, and if not then I can think of something else.”

He kept his promise and called Claire not an hour later. He decided it might be best not to tell her it was undercover work, or that it was taking place in a white picket fence neighborhood, as that might turn her off from it almost immediately.

“Hey Claire, its been too long since we’ve talked,” he started.

“Hi Dean. what do you want, there’s no way you’re just calling to catch up if you’re starting with ‘its been too long.’”

“You got me there. I was just wondering if you wanted to come with me and Cas on a hunt. Its not too far from the bunker and we’d have you back home in a week.”

“Sure, that works. When do we start?” She hadnt seen Dean and Cas since they rescued Cas. That was over a month ago, she’d been meaning to visit, but she’d been so busy with hunting, and getting to know Kaia again now that she was finally back. This seemed like a perfect opportunity to reconnect and not miss out on anything too big back at home.

“If you could come down here by Wednesday, that’d be great.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” She was tempted to sign off with an ‘I love you’ but she was never a lovey-dovey person in that way.

On tuesday she promised Jody she’d be extra careful and would be back in under a week. Kaia told her to make sure to call every day and update her on what was happening. Claire agreed, promising to keep in touch. She spent the rest of the day driving down to Kansas.

Back on Dean and Cas’s end, they were trying to get the house set up for 4 people when they had no furniture prior to this. Cas had always loved furniture shopping even before he had a use for it. When he worked at the Gas-and-Sip, he would browse the home improvement magazines in his spare time. Dean was pretty much the opposite. He had never had reason to care for it, so he didn't. Maybe his hatred for Swedish furniture was rooted in his deep-seated commitment issues. It didn't matter much why he hated it, he just left most of the choices up to Cas. there was then the issue of appliances and such you couldn't find in a furniture store. That was left up to him. Cas sent him out to Walmart to get things for the kitchen. That was something he could do. He picked out a mixer, some silverware, and a pioneer woman kitchenware set. It came with pots and pans, mixing bowls, and a few normal sized plates. That was enough for him to consider it an absolute steal. He brought his finds home to the bunker, setting them on the table designated for things that were to go in the new house. Jack was sitting on Cas’s lap, pointing at things on the computer.

“What’re you guys finding?” Dean asked, hovering behind Cas’s shoulder.

“Djungelskog!” Jack exclaimed, showing Dean a photo of a large stuffed brown bear.

“I thought you were looking for furniture?” Dean directed the question more at Cas, but he was still looking at Jack.

“We are. Jack just got us a bit sidetracked. We found the majority of what we need. Among other things not of as grave importance.”

Dean looked over the shopping cart and then gave the go ahead. Not before adding the stuffed bear to the cart, though.

The next day Claire arrived. Everyone was thrilled to see her. Jack ran up and threw himself around one of her legs and Cas gave her an awkward dad side hug. Dean wondered when he would tell her what the hunt would actually consist of, but he didn't want to interrupt the moment.

A few hours later, Dean fixed everyone a real dinner and had them sit down at the kitchen table. The realization dawned on him that this was going to be his last sit down meal officially living in the bunker. Everyone sort of just sat in silence for a beat. Perhaps reflecting on their own lasts of officially living there. “Claire, I sorta forgot to add this when I called you, but the case is a lot of undercover work. Also its in a suburban area.”

“And why didn't you tell me this sooner?”

“Well to speak freely, I wanted you on this case and I was worried it would make you not want to come.”

“It almost does, but i'm already here now, and i wouldn't want to waste a days driving on something i'm not actually going to do.” She guessed this would probably take longer than a week. “And i'm guessing this isn't just something you decided to do out of the goodness of your hearts?”

“We bought a house in the area, and we just wanted to make sure it was safe,” Cas explained.

“Hang on, you bought a house for real and you didnt even think to tell me? You didn't think that that was valuable information?”

“It didn't come up in our phone call,” Dean said.

“And? That’s no excuse to leave your daughter out of major life events!” The ‘daughter’ part just sort of came out without her noticing, but seconds after she said it she regretted it. God, how embarrassing.

“You’re right. We should’ve told you sooner. It was kind of a recent decision, though, so you haven’t been out of the loop for too long,” Cas said.

The next day was moving day. Dean loaded the appliances into the back of Claire’s car, since the back of the Impala was already full. Claire took her own car, while Dean, Cas, and Jack rode in Baby. Their real furniture was being delivered as they spoke. Cas offered to ride with Claire, but she assured him she’d be fine by herself. The drive wasn’t even that long, especially compared to the distance she drove yesterday.

Dean was silently nervous. He wouldn’t admit it out loud but it was written all over his face. His first real stable house, with the man he loved, and his two kids, he could only hope that he didn’t mess it up. Cas put a hand on his shoulder showing he saw how Dean was feeling.

They turned onto Chapel Street and pulled up into the driveway of the house. It somehow looked bigger and more daunting than it had during the walkthrough. Claire arrived almost ten minutes later. Everyone just sort of paused in front of the house for a minute, reveling in the stability most of them had never had.

[luvknow]

anything for you | lee felix

genre: rich kid!felix x reader | rich kid au ; friends-to-lovers au ; food ; swearing warning ; alcohol warning ; drinking and driving warning ; abuse warning summary: felix’s family owns the largest restaurant franchise in the country and your family works under them. you two have spent your entire lives together and somehow you’ve turned into mini versions of your parents with a boss and secretary type relationship. it wasn’t until last year on his birthday when he tells you he loves you while drunk that your friendship dynamic dramatically changes, and it’s not for the better when he pretends it never happened. wc: 11.2k

You and Felix were two peas in a pod.

From the moment you two were born until your last months at university, you were tied in this relationship for life. Were you two dating? No, of course not! Were you two friends? Well…

Your friendship with Felix was complicated because it was kind of… bought. There was no way to put it lightly, that was simply the origin of your relationship. It all started when Felix’s rich ass CEO of a Dad hired your Dad to be his right hand man in all decision-making aspects of the company he ran. You thought of your Dad as a Chancellor to the King, which I mean was still a high position in the company, but your peers around you thought otherwise.

You attended all the same schools as Felix (thanks to his Dad’s connections), attended the same after school activities (also thanks to his Dad), and even attended the same overseas summer camps (thanks to his Dad who owned the plane that flew everyone). Even then, after being on the same level as Felix for over twenty years, everyone saw you as Felix’s Secretary who waited on his every word. As a kid, your Dad was transparent about how all the privileges you had were all because of Felix and his family and that you should always treat them with respect. And as an impressionable kid, of course you took that a little too literal.

Your Secretary title started in Pre-School when Felix was crying because he forgot his toy to take a nap with at home, so you offered yours. Those small, kind gestures turned into getting him drinks and snacks whenever he wanted, to tutoring him in subjects he had trouble with, to completing essays he didn’t want to complete, and you did it all without ever complaining.

So despite receiving all the same opportunities as all the other inheritance-dependent kids, you were the bottom-feeder of your entire grade.

“_____ ~” Felix whined while entering your apartment. “I’m hungry.”

You exited your bedroom fixing the last couple buttons on your dress shirt. You’re not surprised to see him in the least, as you’re used to him coming in whenever he pleased since he owned the other copy of the apartment keys. “I have food in the fridge.”

“I don’t want a huge meal before the shareholders meeting.”

“You know where the snacks are, what are you waiting for?”

“I just wanted to ask just in case.”

The excited boy wasted no time invading your pantry and grabbing a handful of fruit snack packets, some he stuffed in his dress pants pockets and some he immediately tore open. He made himself home by flopping on your couch, also known as his second bed, and scrolled through his rotation of dating apps while waiting for his dear friend to finish getting ready.

“Don’t lie down like that!” you nagged. “Your pants are going to get all wrinkly!”

Rolling his eyes, Felix sat up straight, to which you immediately fixed random strands of hair  that strayed away from the rest of his slick-back style.

“What are you, my mom?” he mumbled, swatting away your hands.

“Don’t you know how important this meeting is? We could land our internships today.”

“Do you really think I need to worry about that?”

“I guess not… You don’t even want to try out another company for a semester? Scope out your partners?”

“That’s exactly why I shouldn’t be doing that. I’ll look so shady! You probably shouldn’t be thinking about doing that either.”

A small pout emerges from your lips. As much as you owe the Lees and their company your life, you’d like to think the possibility of freeing yourself from their financial shackles was high, even if it was for just one semester. But Felix was right - in order to avoid any spying controversies, it was probably best to not even think about another company. Basically, you were trapped with this company for life.

“Ready to go?” Felix broke the silence. He was the first to leave your couch and head for the door without even bothering to wait for you to catch up.

When you finished locking your front door, you caught Felix looking at your business casual outfit a little too closely. If you weren’t so quick with your reflexes, you would have bumped right into his oddly bulging chest (has he been working out lately?). Still, his foxy eyes scanned you up and down, slowly and intimately.

“Wh-What are you doing…?” you asked nervously. “Is my outfit too bland? It’s ugly, isn’t it? I can’t really glam up for a business meeting, you know.”

“Chill, why are you being hella defensive right now?” he teased. “No, you look good. Honest. Good enough to stand next to me, at least. I wouldn’t stand next to Father if I were you.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“You kind of fit that secretary stereotype you like so much. Especially since you’ll be following me around all day.”

“I do not!”

“Yeah, ok,” Felix tossed you the keys to his expensive black sports car, to which you were also covered as a driver by his insurance. For someone who owns several expensive cars, he sure hates driving them. “Shotty.”

“There’s only two of us…”

The car ride was mostly silent other than the deafening rap music that blared through the subwoofers. Felix could tell you were nervous depending on how talkative you were. If you were blabbering on about how you looked or something arbitrary for at least fifteen minutes, you were probably nervous about a date or maybe a quiz that was coming up in class. If you were silent, he knew that the matter was much more serious. Silence meant that you believed no matter what you did to change yourself or improve upon past mistakes, there was no hope and that whatever was coming was absolute.

“Don’t worry about today,” he reassured after reading your mind. “It’s not like you’re talking in front of hundreds of people at the meeting.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re used to this type of crowd.”

“Are you not? We have class with those good-for-nothing kids of theirs, it’s like the same thing!”

“It is definitely not the same thing! These people have power and they’re smart! The uni is full of idiots who got in with bribes!”

“And you don’t think our shareholders do their fair share of bribing?”

“Of course they do, and that’s what makes them even more terrifying, Felix! They have that kind of power to either buy my entire life or buy out and make sure I never see anyone’s faces again!”

“You say it like you haven’t been shackled to me for over twenty years.”

“That’s different ok, I was a commodity, I couldn’t change anything as a fetus.”

“And now you think you can?”

“I mean, I’d like to think so. Am I crazy?”

“No, not at all.” Gingerly, Felix patted your head like a little kid. “You’ll be just fine ~ I can even introduce you to the ones you want to talk to if you’d like.”

“That’s ok. I’d like to try on my own.”

He understood completely. How he wished he could have that little bit of freedom… To even think about leaving the company behind to work for someone else was blasphemous.

The shareholders meeting was a social event like no other - like, it might as well be a ball with all the people attending and all the press surrounding and being in the building. You pulled up to the normal valet guy who only chuckled at your shocked expression. Felix, on the other hand, wasn’t all that surprised and was rather annoyed at how something as simple as a meeting was getting this much attention.

After dodging all of the press and making it through several thresholds to reach the conference room, you helped Felix prepare for his opening speech.

“You seem more nervous than me,” Felix teased while you quickly smoothed out the wrinkles in his jacket.

“I'm nervous all the damn time.”

“Well, can you quit it before I start sweating? This outfit was expensive. Do you have my speech?”

Searching through your trusty bottomless bag that held everything from tips from your part-time at the cafe to snacks in case Felix got whiny, you pulled out a medium-sized notepad with his opening speech written on it.

“Really, _____? Hand written?”

“My sentences sound better when I write them down instead of typing it!”

“At least it’s legible.” Felix’s Dad announced over the microphone on stage that the meeting will begin shortly. He saw the both of you standing off to the side and waved happily, to which you both could only wave back. The boy in front of you sighed, and it’s the first time today he seemed only slightly nervous. He turned to you. “How do I look?”

How did the most handsome boy you’ve come to know look this morning? Dressed in navy with a white button-down, ears bejeweled and shining in the bright lights, his eyes and his smile sly and foxy, so of course to you he was the only one in the room who you had your eyes on because no one else could ever compare. That’s how it’s always been. 

Gentle fingers startled Felix, only for him to realize you were fixing his monogrammed silver tie clip. “You look just fine.”

“‘Just fine’? Not the sexiest man in the entire world?”

“I’d hardly call you a man…”

“Welcome to the YONGBOK Inc. Shareholders Meeting,” greeted your Father while on stage. Felix noticeably cringed at the sound of his birth name slash company name. “We will begin this meeting with an opening remark from Mr. Lee’s son, Felix.”

“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” you whispered with two thumbs up.

A loud round of applause erupted from the audience filled with press and shareholders. Lee Felix was named one of the most influential people under twenty-five this year and has consistently landed spots on Forbes’ 30 Under 30 list so yes, Felix was always highly anticipated as a guest to fashion shows and charity balls and even more so as a speaker for his future company. Though it was only less than a minute ago he was jittery with nerves, the second he stepped on stage in front of the podium, it was as if he was born to be a public speaker.

“Good morning, honored guests,” he began in his deep voice that startled unfamiliar guests..

His speech - your speech - wasn’t that long, since it was a simple welcome to all the rich people who gave the Lee’s their money. Regardless of its length, Felix somehow drifted his gaze towards the right where you stood. You, who always stood by him and was his friend through everything, stood at the sidelines giving him your unwavering support, even through this minor milestone. Despite this huge corporate building being the last place you want to be, still, you were here by his side.

In your eyes though, it looked like maybe his stage fright was worse than you expected, so you gave him two thumbs up again for reassurance. You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking because he seemed totally fine, in fact his execution was quite flawless, it was just… Why wouldn’t he look into the cameras? The stage lights that shined on him showcased the bright grin he gave when he saw how confused you looked.

“We will continue to work hard together so that YONGBOK will continue being the best restaurant franchise in the country,” was the motto of the company and how Felix ended the speech. With a deep bow and a wink for fan service, he exited the stage.

He fell into your arms clutching his heart. “Ugh, that was so scary!”

“You did fine,” you mumbled, quickly pushing him off before any cameras caught you. Still, he swung an arm around your shoulders unapologetically.

“All right, let’s ditch this popsicle stand.”

“You know we can’t do that or our Fathers will kill us.”

“You think I haven’t died and resurrected like a rising phoenix dozens of times?”

“Leave if you want, it’s your suicide.”

“You won’t come with me?” the handsome boy pouted.

“I’m not actually your secretary, you know.”

“I know, but I’ll be so lonely… Did you at least bring a snack?”

Felix decided to stay when he realized you weren’t kidding about wanting to sit through the entire meeting. Your right ear was focused on all the questions shareholders and the press had while your left ear focused on the child you were babysitting playing with the chocolate bar wrapper. Eventually the conflicting sounds merged into one when the lack of caffeine in your veins made it hard to concentrate for long hours.

“Bet you wished you left with me a couple hours ago, huh?” Felix teased once everything was over.

“Whatever. The important thing is that it’s over now.”

“Are you going to go talk with some of the shareholders?”

That was the original plan - to land an internship at a different company and slowly but surely escape the bubble that is the Lees’ world, but what was the use of making life harder on yourself if you’ll just be seen as a spy? What was the use in anything anymore when your life was determined the moment you came out of the womb?

You shook your head tiredly. “Nah, I think I’ll save that for another time.”

Felix linked his arm with yours like you were the gentleman and he was the lady. The warmth of another body so close to yours was only familiar when it was his, and you wished your body was unbiased and rejected anything within a five feet radius. “You wanna hang out with me that much?”

“Who said I’m hanging out with you? I’m driving you home.”

“No come on, let’s hang out today! Neither of us have class and when was the last time it was just the two of us?”

By ‘just the two of you’, he meant when was the last time you and him hung out without any business involved? When was the last time you and him had pizza together after a long week of midterms and studying, or the last time he picked you up from your part time at the cafe to have a cup of coffee, or the last time you talked about anything other than being ordered around by the Prince himself?

The answer to that question was last year on his birthday when he got too wasted and you didn’t have the strength to carry him up his multi-story mansion, so instead you carried him up to your humble apartment and let him crash on your bed the whole weekend (insisted upon staying the whole weekend because all the puking made him ‘weak’ and ‘dehydrated’).

Truth be told, you loved Felix’s company, whether it was business or personal. The hesitation was because you wondered if he truly felt the same way, especially since he never spoke about that night on his birthday. That night, a lot was said, but nothing was ever confirmed, so you were left in limbo while Felix managed to live in ignorant bliss.

It was better this way.

“I guess it’s been a while…” you trailed off.

“It’s been forever, love. Can we go to your cafe? I’m really craving the strawberry milk latte thing.”

“Anything for you, Felix ~”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“Felix,” the haunting voice of his father echoed from behind. “Come here for a second -”

“That’s our cue!” The wild blond took you by the hand and sprinted out the conference room doors before his dad could catch him.

As if already predicting the time of events for the shareholders meeting, the valet already had the sports call pulled up and tossed you the keys for maximum efficiency.

“Hey, you’re hand-eye coordination is getting better!” Felix teased while hopping in the front seat.

“And your fear for your dad is not.”

“It’s not fear, it’s pure distaste. Completely different.”

The short ride to your cafe was anything but quiet as Felix filled you in on his most recent Tinder match. The story was something along the lines of ‘she was hot, but kind of stupid’, and you weren’t exactly sure what came after that because, well, you didn’t care. Hearing about the guy you were in love with slash your childhood friend slash the guy whose family bought out your family’s current dating app situation wasn’t exactly the most ideal setting, but hey, it beats sitting in that conference room for any longer.

The cafe was surprisingly not as busy around lunch time, even though it was Friday. Other than a few customers, the only other person in the cafe was your coworker Wooyoung who was busy dramatically singing to whatever drama OST was playing over the intercom.

“Are you making it?” Felix asked, referring to his strawberry latte.

“I wasn’t planning on it since I’m not working.”

“... Can you?”

“Are you serious!?”

“The last time someone other than you made my drinks, they tasted watery!”

He wasn’t wrong - a lot of the baristas here were a bit lazy with the job. You and Wooyoung were among the very few who genuinely cared for the cafe, the menu, and its customers. You supposed you could take a moment to step away from Felix - you sort of missed the barista behind the counter, anyways.

“Sit tight,” you told Felix, who obeyed happily at his favorite table.

Wooyoung with his cutesy cheeky grin chucked one of the ugly brown work aprons right at your face, to which you only whipped right back.

“I’m not working and you know that!”

“Can’t a guy dream to have the same shift with his favorite coworker? What are you doing here then?”

“Making a strawberry latte.”

“For yourself or for His Highness over there?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

Wooyoung knew all too well what your relationship was like with Felix and that was because he was also one of the elite, also known as a trust fund son. Wooyoung and Felix were from the same side of a coin, reigning from families whose net worth could buy out entire towns. The circle of the elite had a lot of members, but it was tight-knit, so everyone knew everything about everyone else. You were included in Felix’s dossier.

“You know, _____, you are your own person,” Wooyoung tisked as he hovered over you making the fruity drink. It was as simple as pouring milk over some strawberry compote (Felix liked it when there was extra compote) and shaking vigorously.

“You telling me that whenever I come in with him totally makes it more valid than the last time.”

“You know I’m just looking out for you.” His soft fingers gently pinched your cheeks. “You’re so sour today, I kind of like it.”

“Aren’t you known for liking people who have zero interest in you?”

“Exactly, so you better watch your attitude or I’ll steal you away from Mr. Lee Felix ~”

“You’re so weird!” Even so, Wooyoung stole a kiss on your bruised cheek before helping the customer at the counter. The aftermath left your face burning up, even though you were used to his flirtatiousness by now.

Of course Felix saw the entire interaction. Though he tried to hide behind his phone, he made sure to still have a view of whatever you and that spoiled ‘I-own-a-yacht’ Wooyoung were doing. You were much different around him than you were with that cheeky bastard behind the counter. With Felix, you were strict, quiet, and pouty, but with Wooyoung you were able to smile more and joke around and even laugh when you flicked whipped cream in his hair. In those short five minutes, that was a type of you he hasn’t been able to see since high school.

But now? You were so cold and distant. He could barely hang out with you without it seeming like it was some business meeting. What changed?

Felix watched you walk back to him holding his pink drink with your cheeks to match its color.

“I didn’t know you two were so close,” he said bitterly after you both exited the cafe.

“We work together, of course we’re close. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You’ll take his happy humming as he inhaled the latte as a thank you. “You talk about how much you hate some of your coworkers all the time!”

“I guess I do… but he’s different.”

“Of course he is…”

The handsome and pouty boy beside you did his best to ignore your accusing glare. “Do you have some beef with him, or something.”

“No,” he said simply in between gulps. “I just don’t like him.”

“You don’t like any boy I talk to.”

“Exactly.”

“So what happens when I really like someone? Do they need your ‘Lee Seal of Approval’?”

“Yup.”

You sighed heavily. “Why do you enjoy making my life so hard?”

“Because I love you, that’s why!”

You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes how many times Felix has said ‘I love you’ since his birthday party. With his special day coming up again, the words hit harder than usual, even when you knew he was joking, but no ‘I love you’ hurt more than the first time he said it last year before he passed out on your bed.

Speaking of which, “Sooo ~ Guess what next week is ~?” Felix sang cheekily after hopping in the car.

“Uh, midterms week?”

“No ~”

“Buy one get one free soju at the karaoke place?”

“No…”

“Oh wait, isn’t it Han’s birthday next week?” He knew you were trying to push his buttons, but it clearly worked by the way he was glaring at you. “Yeah, that must be it.”

“So mean…”

“Are you two throwing a joint party again?”

“Yeah, but I think we’re skipping the club scene and throwing it at his house instead.”

“Wow, the Lee Felix is tired of the club scene?” you scoffed. “Never thought I would see the day.”

“Maybe it’s just my eyesight getting worse - I’d like to see who I’m hitting on for once.” One sharp stab in your heart. “Will you help me plan?”

Did you really have any other choice? “Of course.”

“Yes ~ This’ll totally top last year’s party!”

You sure hoped so, and you hoped you wouldn’t remember a single moment of it.

--

Planning for the party didn’t start until a couple days before the big date. Since Jisung was hosting, it was Felix’s responsibility to come up with all the decor and the theme and literally all the smaller bits and pieces of the party.

“Honey, I’m home ~” Felix sang as he walked into your apartment. An aroma of fresh spices and cooked meat and roasted vegetables hit his nose upon entering. “Whoa, are you cooking!?”

“We can’t plan on an empty stomach,” you stated the obvious. Immediately, a bowl of rice and the fixings was handed to the grinning boy.

“I love it when you cook. I haven’t eaten your cooking in a while.”

“I didn’t know you liked my cooking,” you blushed. “I haven’t cooked for you that often.”

“It’s because we’re both always so busy or we just eat the restaurant’s food when we’re lazy.” A happy hum came from his lips. “You have a mad talent for this, you know.”

“Do I?”

“Of course! The Boy with the God Tongue himself said so!” Being the future heir of the country’s largest restaurant franchise meant ridiculous chef-related nicknames, to which Felix enjoyed whole-heartedly. “You know this means I’m never going to let you leave YONGBOK.”

“Can you stop, you’re so embarrassing, it’s not that amazing!”

“You stop! Quit undermining your talents.”

“If it’s so good, what do you like about it?”

“For one, there’s tons of balance between the flavors. It’s also not as salty, which is what some of the chefs in some locations are having trouble with lately. But the best part is that it feels like home when I eat your cooking.”

“Like home? Like… as if your in-house chef was cooking it?”

Felix chuckled cutely. “No, I mean it feels like someone who loves me very much made this with lots of care.”

You’re too stunned to say anything right away. It felt as if Felix caught you in his trap and was forcing you to admit something that he knew from the very start. But now was not the time nor was it the place. As a response, you turned away and chugged the rest of your glass of water.

“Right,” you cleared your throat awkwardly. “G-Glad you liked it.”

Felix wondered why you wouldn’t look at him. “S-So, let’s get started?”

You took a bowl of food for yourself and refilled Felix’s before settling down at the table. “Do you have an idea for a theme?”

“Ok, hear me out - casino themed?”

“Isn't that underage gambling? Sounds super illegal to me.”

“Right, right… Ok, how about, uh, a masquerade?”

“Not bad, but a little cliche, no?”

“But it’s so sexy! Classy clothes, bejeweled masks -”

“Choreographed waltzing?”

“Yes! For the first half of course, then we’ll probably bump the real shit after a couple of drinks.”

“Hm, I actually like that.” You entered the theme into your notes. “Cool, we have a theme down. Now for all the decoration…”

That itself took about an hour. Imagine, talking about banners and balloon arches, and personalized masks for a whole hour with the most indecisive human being alive. How he’s expected to make major decisions for a multi-million dollar company one day, you’ll never know.

“Ugh,” you were over it, at least for another hour. You couldn’t take comparing different shades of gold and different grades of champagne anymore. Your couch was supposed to be your safe space away from Felix, but he followed you like a puppy and laid his head on your lap.

“This weekend is going to be so much fun! Did you get me a gift yet ~?”

“Uh, maybe…”

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise, silly.”

“Can I at least get a hint?”

“Probably the cheapest gift you’ll get.”

“Hey.” Felix silenced any doubt you had about your gift by taking one of your hands in his and holding it over his chest. He closed his eyes, tired from the day, tired by your constant doubts, tired of it all. “You know I don’t care about that kind of stuff when it comes to you.”

“I know, but I do.”

“Well, don’t. My favorite gifts have always been from you.”

“Even more than the diamond chain from Chan?”

“... Your gifts are my favorite after that one.” Your free hand poked his freckled cheek, causing him to laugh and smile brighter than the sun. Lying here with you made him happy. “I miss hanging out with you like this.”

“We hang out all the time!”

“Not like this. We never just chill out together and not worry about anything. We’re always worrying about something, especially since we started uni.”

“Uni sort of defines our future, so of course there’s tons to worry about.”

“Not for me. My life has been predetermined. If you think about it, uni doesn’t define your future, either.”

“I wish you didn’t tell me that,” you groaned. “You’re so right. What’s the point when the two of us are just going to take over our Father’s positions, anyways!?”

“Does our future together sound that miserable to you?” he teased. You wished he didn’t word it that way.

“Not miserable, but doesn’t it suck that we don’t have that sort of freedom? You and I have had our lives predetermined since birth!”

“Perhaps it was fate that you would be my Chancellor and I would be your King,” Felix snickered.

“Call it whatever you want, but where’s the joy we could get from spontaneity and disorder?”

“Good point. But I think you and I will find that joy just fine.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. Life will always be a joy if I’m with you.” A tired smile spread across his lips. “You and I make a disorderly pair.”

You and him were definitely a disorderly pair. It was like you two were in a modern-day forbidden friendship that was only seen in royal fairy tales. Felix was the Prince, the apple of everyone’s eye, the boy with the highest ranking just below the King. You were the lowly common person who devoted their life to the castle and serving the royal family. Somehow, even with the drastic gap between your social classes, you both found each other and became inseparable. 

Through childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood, the time spent together naturally formed your feelings for Felix to nothing less than love. You were the number one witness of seeing him laugh, smile, cry, and scream through all his happiness, sadness, and anger. You were the only one who knew the exact number of freckles that dusted his cheeks. You knew what specific snacks he wanted for certain craving occasions, his favorite orders at every restaurant, how he liked his instant ramen (with egg, American cheese, and green onions), and especially his cafe drink orders. When they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, you supposed that was especially true for Felix.

After over twenty whole years together, how the fuck were you supposed to avoid falling in love? How were you supposed to look at Felix and feel with your whole chest that you were not madly in love with his beautiful face and his kind heart? When Felix told you he loved you with slurred words on his birthday last year, how were you supposed to let that go and live on like you didn’t cry in the shower for a whole month afterwards?

You put the blame for the disorder in this messed-up friendship all on Felix, but you couldn’t help but clean it up and do your best to keep it together. So when he forgot he said those magic words, you did your best to forget them, too, but the best you could do was bury the memory away and cover it up with work and school. It wasn’t the most ideal way to deal with the issue, you knew that, but the important part was that it was working even if it was just a little bit.

Felix was the first to wake up the next morning. You didn’t move a single muscle and ended up sleeping upright since he used you as a pillow. Still, your hand was in his and the other tangled in his messy blond hair and truly, being here with you was the only place that felt like home.

--

The day of the party was filled with chaos on your end, as you had to wake up at 6:00 am just to make it to Jisung’s pool house in time to set up the decorations for the joint birthday party. You ended up directing all the crews to where the cocktail tables needed to be set up, where the instagram photobooth should go, and where the Michelin-star chefs were going to set up for dinner. The most important part was the dance floor, which would be clean with nothing but some shoe scuffs for the first couple of hours and probably stained with different colors of liquor by the end of the night.

By noon you were totally wiped out having a stomach full of only coffee and a granola bar. The worst part was that you didn’t get a chance to buy a mask yet and would probably have to settle for some cheap recycled paper with sequins and feathers glued on it from the birthday party store down the block.

But as if the Gods’ translated your feelings telepathically to Felix, your Prince in shining armor came to the rescue with a sandwich, more coffee, and something in a matte black gift bag. The gesture, though small, made your cheeks burn the brightest of pinks. It was your first time seeing and talking with Felix since he left the comfort of your lap a couple of nights ago. Although you were unsure of yourself (as with any situation, am I right?), the Prince didn���t seem so phased.

“I figured you could use a pick-me-up,” he grinned brightly, handing you all the goods.

“You are a blessing,” you sighed, chugging the iced coffee. “What’s in the black bag?”

“It’s a surprise. Open it.”

“I thought today was your birthday?”

“It’s nothing big, I promise!”

You shot him a skeptical look, but opened up the gift regardless. Inside was an intricately bejeweled mask for tonight, colored perfectly to match your outfit.

“I went to your apartment because I thought you’d be there,” Felix began shyly. “I went to your room and saw your entire outfit laid out, but no mask, so I figured you didn’t have one yet. I bought one to match your outfit and to match mine! Mine looks exactly like that, but black.”

“You really didn’t have to,” you pouted, though staring at the shiny jewels adoringly. It was gorgeous and you never thought in your lifetime you could own anything so glamorous. The gesture lifted an extremely loaded weight off your shoulders and you couldn’t help but hug the birthday boy as a thank you. “You’re the best, thank you.”

“Anything for you, love.”

“Also, please stop going into my bedroom.”

“What, afraid I’m going to raid your panties?”

“Yes.”

“That’s fair.”

Felix spent the rest of the day helping you make the pool house perfect since it was also technically his job as the co-host. Holding the ladder while you hung up crystal decor was reminiscent of past Christmas parties that his family hosted. Your two families would come together and prepare the cookies, the eggnog, and the presents for the whole morning before the big party that started around dinner time, and you and Felix were in charge of the Christmas tree. He’s not too big on heights, so he always made you hang the ornaments on the top layer. It was a very adult networking and old people gambling games type of party, so you and Felix would always sneak off into his basement and play video games or watch corny movies with a stolen tray of sugar cookies.

The Christmas before uni was probably the last one where you two felt like kids and didn’t have to worry about what kinds of feelings would get in the way of your beautiful friendship.

“Ugh, my calves are burning,” you whined on your way down from the ladder. Your legs gave out on the second step down and the weight of your tired body pulled you down, causing you to drop to your death from a mere five feet above.

Luckily, your Prince had quick reflexes and caught you bridal style. As kids, it was surprising when Felix could carry anything even half his weight with his twiggy arms, but the fact that he could hold you without struggling or even breaking a sweat was the closest you’ve ever experienced a miracle.

A gentle, handsome smile came from his lips. “You ok?” he asked in his deep voice.

No, you’re definitely not, but lying was ok in this situation. “F-F-Fine! I am fine!”

“Are you sure?”

“Y-Yes! Uh, you can put me down now…!”

“Hm, but I kind of like holding you like this.” You hit his rock-hard chest lightly, to which he recoiled dramatically before placing you down gently. “Is that how you thank your hero!?”

“Thank you, My Hero.”

“That’s more like it.”

It wasn’t until around dinner time when you left Felix alone to be in charge of guiding all the caterers to their cooking spots while you sped home to get ready as fast as you could. You didn’t want to leave Felix in charge for more than an hour, otherwise there would be more room for error.

You must have had such little faith in him because he did as was told without any issues and was done well before the party was going to start. He took the down time to put on his satin black suit and fix his blond hair before putting on the matching mask. While looking in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, of course he admitted to himself that he would be the sexiest one at the party, but something about the view didn’t seem right. He didn’t have you beside him hyping him up like always. The view in the mirror was lonely without you.

“Good job with the chefs!” you called into the dressing room unannounced.

Felix could see you jogging in wearing the full outfit he saw on your bed this morning, now complete with the mask he gifted you in the reflection of the mirror. The view of you was stunning, so much to the point that the Prince himself was too afraid to turn around and look at you with his own eyes. You reminded him of the story of Medusa, who would turn men into stone if they dared to look at you, and Felix thought that he was well past that point, already frozen in place with his jaw dropped and hands fixated on his crooked tie.

Luckily, you didn’t seem to notice as you stepped in between him and the mirror. The feel of your knuckles brushing up against his chest broke him free of his frozen state, causing him to hitch his breath in his throat. It was very un-Felix-like to be this nervous, especially before an event that circled around him, but perhaps it was his sobriety that made him jittery.

“You good?” you reciprocated after a long moment of silence.

Prince Felix cleared his throat before speaking. “Yeah.”

“Nervous?”

“I guess so.”

“What do you have to be nervous about other than being the center of attention in front of hundreds of people?” you teased lightly.

“It’s not like I know everyone, though.”

“What do you mean? You and Han invited all the people you normally party with.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I’m friends with all of them. I don’t hang out with them before 10:00 pm.”

Even behind the mask, you could tell his nerves were sincere. “Are you having regrets about this party?”

“I wouldn’t say regrets… I don’t know. I’m sorry, I know you put a lot of work into this.”

“Do you not want to go -”

“No! No, I want to go.” To ditch a party you worked on for forty-eight hours would be like slapping you in the face and he knew that. But he also knew if he said yes, you would follow him wherever he’d go in a heartbeat because that’s how much you loved him. He cleared his throat once more. “Will you stay with me?”

You raised a brow, unsure if you heard correctly. “Stay with you?”

“As in, will you stay by my side tonight?”

“You want me by your side the whole night?” Oh, how the tables have turned, in which Felix with his blushing cheeks couldn’t look you in the eyes as he nodded shyly. It was hard to believe what you were seeing with your own eyes and you wondered if you were dreaming. “Ok.”

“Really?”

Softly, you straightened his mask. “Anything for you, birthday boy.”

The anxiety from the claustrophobia of the party was replaced with the thought of being with you the whole night, but this is how he’d rather be. No longer did he want to stay in this room he filled with bad energy, so he took you by the hand and led you back to the main room where guests quickly filled in. Anxiety filled his chest again and you felt it through his hand squeezing yours tightly, as if afraid you would let go and slip away into the crowd where he’d never see you for the rest of the night. You’re not sure what’s gotten into him and you didn’t want to make it worse, so you led him to the tables of food hoping he could fill the emptiness in hopes of loosening up a little.

Even while eating food, Felix refused to let go of your hand, so you had to act as his free hand and feed him gourmet finger foods.

“You’re even more of a baby on your birthday,” you scoffed.

“But you love babying me, right?” he teased.

“I don’t know if ‘love’ is the right answer…”

The beginning of the night was nothing short of energy-draining as every single guest came up to greet Felix on his birthday and greeted you second. It was crazy that even in a room full of hundreds of peers, the crowd was still able to distinguish the birthday boys from everyone else, but you supposed it was easy because who else was blond and this handsome? The same way you looked at Felix, everyone else also had their eyes on him because he was truly that stunning in a crowded room.

It was occasions like these when you felt most out of place. You only ‘belonged’ here because Felix was your ticket in, but you would never become one of the elite. You didn’t have all the luxury of buying a new outfit or new jewels for every occasion like everyone else here. You were a simple person in your humble apartment living your predetermined life and getting by without any conflict, all thanks to him. That was what made you believe for twenty years that you had no right to fall for Felix the way you did - you were nothing more than the King’s hired Chancellor.

Even so, when the whole room was looking at him, he only looked at you.

The next song was a common waltz song that was played at every masquerade party on the planet. With a hop in his step, you found the birthday boy in front of you bowing with his hand still in yours.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked dramatically like he was playing a character.

“Why, of course, Your Highness.”

Waltz dancing was definitely not the first talent you’d think of while wondering what Felix was good at, but to your surprise, it was like he’d been taking classes for years. You knew little-to-nothing about it yourself, but it was easier when your date took the lead and you didn’t have to think, just follow. It was a ride, honestly, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling, even when the dance finished with Felix dipping you, faces close and noses barely touching.

You hardly noticed his eyes shift to your lips in the midst of all the giggles. “When did you learn to do that!?”

“Last night,” he admitted sheepishly. “Are you impressed?”

“Very.”

“Then those three hours of Youtube tutorials were worth it.”

Your predicted cycle of food, dancing, alcohol, and back to food was correct. Several rounds lasted several hours to the point where you were at the perfect amount of tipsy, but still able to navigate, although if any more rounds of alcohol were going to happen, you might be in trouble. Keeping up with the birthday boy was so hard!

But you didn’t mind, because the poison made you forget about how much you didn’t belong there and swept any overreaction to Felix’s affection under the rug, though it was getting harder to do the latter, as each shot meant closing the distance between you and him. Somehow, you went from holding his hand to his hand never leaving your waste, with your bodies keeping close contact, a feeling you’ve always been familiar with even when sober, but this time was different.

“So,” he began in the middle of the dance floor. “When do I get my gift?”

“How about after your birthday cake?”

“Birthday cake?”

On cue, the lights dimmed and the music stopped. Jisung found his way next to Felix and all the chefs rolled out a giant tiered cake with candles on it, cueing all the guests to sing happy birthday. You made sure to keep the design simple, but the flavors immaculate and matching the boys’ palates because that was the most important part. Even from afar, you could smell the chocolate.

You tried to step away from him so that he and Jisung could have the spotlight together, but even then he didn’t want you to leave. He squeezed your side a little tighter, a silent gesture that said, ‘please don’t go.’

By now, you were starting to sober up a bit and that was a bad sign because now you were realizing that this whole night would be forgotten tomorrow, just like last year. Still, you stayed by his side because that’s what he wanted.

Why it had to be you, you’ll never know, but the feeling was too right to question it.

At the end of the song, the birthday boys blew out the candles and the cheers deafened your ear drums. What shocked you next was the feeling of soft lips on your cheek.

“Thank you,” Felix whispered with so much adoration. “For everything.”

You’ll never be able to recover from tonight. “Why are you like this all of a sudden? Have you had too much to drink?”

A cute giggle escaped his lips. “No, I’m fine. This day feels extra special, that’s all. You’re the reason.”

Felix was such a smooth honey talker when there was a little something swimming in his bloodstream. You should know better not to take these words to heart, but you can’t help it when they’ve all you’ve ever wanted to hear. A repeat of last year was bound to happen any second.

You did your best to avoid the compliment. “Do you want your gift now?”

“Ooh, yes!”

The gift was hidden in the room you find him in earlier today. You were too embarrassed to set it up next to the gift table that was dressed in bags with brands like Cartier and Gucci, so you stashed it away from the rest. The bouncy and excited boy had the widest grin on his face, impatiently waiting for you to present him with what you had.

“Close your eyes,” you demanded.

Felix held out his hands with his eyes closed and expected something small, like a watch or a cupcake or some plush toy that he could strap on his keychain, but instead nearly stumbled forward holding something as heavy as a textbook.

“Ok, open your eyes.”

He wasn’t too far off, actually. In his hands was a thick, heavy book titled “Felix & _____” that you printed out on an embossed label maker. Inside were infinite pages of pictures, stamps, receipts, travel brochures, foreign currency, movie tickets, anything and everything from most if not all the memories you spent together over the past twenty years. The first few pages were filled with old film pictures and polaroids you had to steal from your parents and the later pages progressively got more crowded with trinkets and things when you two were old enough to hang out on your own.

For a while, Felix was silent as he flipped through all the memories. There wasn’t a smile on his face, no tears streaming down his cheeks, in fact he was emotionless and now you were confused. He told you he didn’t care about money or the cost of gifts when it came to you, but…

“You hate it,” you stated rather than asking.

Felix looked up at you, completely sobered up, with the most incredulous expression. “Of course not,” he reassured softly. “I love it. So much. You saved all of this…?”

“I saved every receipt that wasn’t smudged with barbecue sauce or oil and every movie ticket since the start. I had boxes full of it and I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I didn’t have the heart to throw it away, so I made you a scrapbook. It took forever, but luckily your family’s historian captured a lot of the earlier stuff.” Felix was listening, but his eyes were fixated on the last page, where you pasted a single picture of a selfie you two took just a couple days ago. “Happy birthday, Felix.”

Flipping through the scrapbook made him realize that yes, so much has changed between the two of you. There’s so much growth and care and love in between the pages and the fine lines that isn’t seen unless you look for it. As he looked at you, with your cheeks dusted scarlet and wearing your heart on your sleeve, perhaps him pretending he didn’t tell you he loved you last year was what was slowly drifting you away from him, because how were you going to deny to his face that you didn’t love him, too?

Perhaps it was best you would admit it to him on your own time. For now, he hoped a gentle kiss on your forehead would push you a little bit.

His rose petal lips left your forehead tingling. “You’re the best. Thank you.”

When Felix tried to close the gap in between, you took a large step back. You couldn’t look him in his eyes and now he’s confused and his heart hurts.

“Why do you keep doing that?” you asked.

“Doing what?”

“Holding my hand, holding me, kissing me…”

“Oh, I thought you were ok with all of that.”

You take a deep breath. You can’t let last year repeat itself. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m wrong?”

“You can’t just do that whenever you feel like it.”

“Do what!?”

“Play with my feelings!” You took another breath to calm you down and prevent anymore tears that were about to pool. “I have feelings, Felix. You can’t just use me whenever you feel like it and take it all back like it never happened the next morning!”

“I have feelings, too. How the fuck else was I supposed to deal with the night I told you I love you and you didn’t say it back?”

You’re left stunned and speechless. Felix just admitted to you that he once told you he loved you. He didn’t have to say when for you to know that he was talking about the inebriated self on your bed mumbling those three words as you tucked him in on his birthday last year.

“You didn’t say it back and I thought you didn’t feel the same, so I pretended to forget all about it. But now I know you feel the same,” he begged desperately. “I just know. Tell me I’m wrong, _____. Tell me I’m wrong to think that after all these years together, I think you fell in love with me the same way I fell in love with you.”

You couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t admit that he was right because he was drunk then and he’s still a little intoxicated now. But even if he’s right, even though you both knew how much you loved every cell of Felix, what if all this sweet talk was brewed by the mix of drinks that settled in his core? What if he forgets again tomorrow and you’re left in a worse state than you were last year? What if the alcohol just jogged last year’s memory that was stored deep in his cortex that only tequila was able to unlock?

The more you tried to make an excuse for it, the more ridiculous it sounded...

When you didn’t say anything right away, Felix was sure if he had his ribs broken that it would hurt less than the pain he felt in his chest right now. But that wasn’t your fault - nothing was ever your fault. This was all his doing because that’s what Felix did best - screw everything up.

The blond’s once hurt expression turned to stone before he dropped the scrapbook onto the cushioned chair next to his belongings.

“My mistake then,” he muttered before leaving you alone in the room.

“Felix, wait -” but it was too late, he was already out of the room to do something stupid to forget what just happened.

You ran after him, but the party room was so loud and dark and filled to the brim with guests that you couldn’t find him. In a room full of people, you were always able to find Felix no matter what, but it’s like he changed the makeup of the atmosphere to make sure that wouldn’t happen again for the rest of the night. You tried looking for blond locks from high ground, you tried snaking your way on the dance floor, you even checked the private rooms and men’s bathrooms in the whole house and none of them worked. You were afraid that after all the heartbreak, you wouldn’t see him again for a long while.

You bumped into Jisung in an empty hallway, who seemed out of breath like he was running a marathon just now.

“You have to come with me,” he gasped in urgency.

“What happened?”

“It’s Felix. He’s about to race Wooyoung.”

Those five words sounded like a terrible ad-lib in the newspaper, but when you followed Jisung to the front of the pool house, lo and behold half of the guests were gathered around the two boys who looked like they were about to get into a fist fight. In Felix’s hand, you could see that he was holding the keys to his sports car that was already parked out front.

Wooyoung’s the first to see you run to them from the crowd, with Jisung following behind you. “Hey, _____. Can you tell Prince Charming here that I’m not about to race him and go to jail?”

“That’s because you’re a pus -”

Jisung held Wooyoung back before he could get a swing in and you stepped in between. This was the first time you got a good look at his face, which was tear-stained and flushed red, all because of you.

“What are you doing!?” you muttered harshly.

“Trying to understand what you see in this guy. It’s not his looks, or his brains. Can’t be his car either, but I just wanted to prove my prediction just in case.”

His breath smelled like freshly poured alcohol. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Am I ridiculous, though? I think I might be onto something when I said there’s something that you see in him.”

“There’s nothing, so can you please give me your keys so we can talk inside?”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

Ouch. “Ok, we won’t talk. Let’s do something else -”

“I don’t want to do something else with you. I want to race and kick his ass.”

“You want to crash and burn that badly?” Wooyoung screamed over Jisung’s shoulders. “Fine, let’s drive!”

The crowd cheering only boosted Felix’s ego more, so he broke free from your wall and walked towards his car.

“Felix, don’t do this!” you cried out desperately, and for a second you could see the hesitation, but it was easily overcome.

“If you don’t want to be here, then go home. I don’t need you.”

The crowd oohed in unison and your left in the middle of the circle humiliated, watching the boy you loved the most get into his car and prepare to race your coworker. There’s a myriad of scenarios that fly through your mind of what could go wrong and you’re not sure if you should stay for the mess of the aftermath. But Felix said it himself that he didn’t need you, so maybe you should follow his advice and go home.

If something were to happen to him and you weren’t there to pick up the pieces and mend them back together, you would never forgive yourself. Your life’s purpose had always been to help Felix mend his pieces together whenever he needed it. But maybe this was his way of telling you that you were no longer needed for that - that you were free of all your duties as his personal fake secretary and since he thought you didn’t love him back that you served no purpose to him anymore.

When Felix said he didn’t need you, he meant that he didn’t need you to be the person you always were. He didn’t need you to be his babysitter trying to stop him from doing something stupid, he needed you as someone who wanted to stop him because you loved him and was afraid that he’d get hurt. And perhaps it was his mistake for saying it so harshly because you didn’t bother to stop him after that. But it hurt him to his core that you believed him when he said he didn’t need you anymore, that after twenty years you so easily believed that he could cut you out of his life, just like that. How many stupid mistakes could Felix make tonight? He was too far into this that he couldn’t back out, so all he had to do was race and make it out alive to see you again.

From the rear view mirror, he saw your distant figure fade away with the night.

--

It has been a long sixty-eight hours and twenty-four minutes since you arrived home from the birthday party. Hermit crabbing for the first twelves hours was stressful - you couldn’t sleep until 6:00 am, you only slept for a couple hours, you sent mass text messages to multiple people, including Felix, curious about his whereabouts and no one got back to you until twelve hours after that.

han solo [8:43 pm]: sorry darling, i like just woke up. he’s fine i guess.

you [8:44 pm]: what do you mean you ‘guess’!?

han solo [8:44 pm]: i mean they both came out unscathed and his dumbass won so physically he’s fine! but he didn’t seem too happy that he won. i think he’s back home with his parents atm.

That settled your racing heart only a little, but at least you knew he was fine physically, at least. Still, your hundreds of texts sent to him were all left on read, meaning he saw all your desperation and worry and didn’t bother to ease any of it.

You couldn’t eat for those long hours, but now it was getting unbearable and you needed to eat something. You had all the ingredients for Felix’s favorite soup, and as much as you didn’t want to constantly remind yourself of him, you couldn’t help yourself. The process was nice and slow, where you took extra care into washing the vegetables and bringing the broth to a gentle boil before dropping everything in. You could imagine the look on his face if he smelled what you made with your own hands.

Cooking for Felix was a very rare occasion because you were still self conscious about your abilities, especially as someone who was going to work for the country’s largest restaurant franchise. But the times he’s tasted your creations, his reaction was nothing but sincere bliss, cleaning his plate or bowl or several every time. He was the only one who truly believed in your talents and far-off dream when your parents wanted you to follow your Dad’s footsteps. You always cared about what Felix thought about you and your actions and nearly everything, but what he thought about your cooking was one of the most important things and his constant support for your craft was what made you fall for him so much harder than you already did.

The aromas of the soup made you miss him even more. If you didn’t hear back from him today, you were going to take drastic measures and find him yourself.

A quiet, eerie knock came at your door. You hesitated, wondering if you should just pretend you weren’t home, but then a voice spoke up.

“I know you’re home,” Felix said. “I can smell you cooking my favorite soup.”

You dropped your wooden spoon and hurried to open the front door. Behind the door revealed a tired Felix with one bruised up eye and cut up lip. Though the tears quickly fell from your eyes and you covered your gaping mouth, he still gave you a weak smile in hopes of easing any worry you now had.

“I kind of need you,” he admitted softly. “I really need you.”

Speechless, you took Felix by the hand and sat him on your couch before grabbing your massive first aid kit. He’s not surprised that you took him in with open arms without any hesitation because that was the kind of person you were. He loved that about you, but there’s guilt in his heart because he’s the last person who deserves this treatment. He knew you didn’t exactly forgive him yet because you still haven’t said a word, even as you were wetting a cotton swab with isopropyl alcohol.

“Is it going to sting?” he asked. You didn’t bother answering and let him feel the pain for himself. “Motherfucker!”

Through all the cleaning and wincing, though your facial expression didn’t move much, a waterfall of tears fell from your eyes at a constant speed. Since you were kids, Felix’s Dad was big on spanking and physical discipline, but this was a whole different level than you’ve ever seen before - this wasn’t discipline, this was intentional. Even so, Felix still smiled, even through all the stinging.

“Stay still,” you whispered, voice shaking. Your free hand held his face in place by pressing your palm into his nonbruised cheek. The wound still stung, but the wincing at least lessened. When the cotton swab dried up and you weren’t sure what to do, Felix calmed your racing thoughts by placing a hand on top of the one you had on your cheek.

He liked the way your thumb gently brushed across his cheek. Your touch always left tingles in its absence.

“What happened?” you finally asked.

“Dad found out about the racing because it was in the tabloids as ‘Future YONBOK CEO Caught Racing Under the Influence. Is the Future of YONGBOK in Good Hands?’ and, well, you know how that turned out.”

You said nothing while shaking your head. You took your hand back and stood up to get something and the fear of you leaving him again left Felix sweating and tears of his own pooling in his eyes. But you came back with a bag of frozen peas to press against his bruises and swollen lip.

“Are you hungry?” Felix nodded silently. “I made your favorite soup.”

“I know. Did you know that I was coming?”

“No. I guess I’m lucky.”

One of his hands is on top of yours holding the frozen peas and the other grabs hold of your other free hand. Felix wanted to hold you in every way possible, but for now this would have to do until you accepted him.

“You know I love you,” he told you. “And you know I will always need you. I’m sorry I pretended to forget about telling you last year and I’m sorry if that made you think I was insincere the second time. But now you know for sure that I love you. Was I really that wrong to think you felt the same?”

“It seems like you already know my answer.”

“I need to hear you say it.”

You sighed heavily. By now the tears had stopped, but you wouldn’t be surprised if they started up again. This was the first time you would admit aloud that you loved the stupid boy who tried to hide his smile sitting in front of you.

“I love you, Lee Felix. I always have.”

“Knew it ~” he sang. “Tell me when you fell for my handsome looks.”

“Remember Prom night?”

“Prom night!? Seriously?”

“My date standing me up and you offering to dance with me the whole night sounds like the perfect formula to fall in love with you, does it not?”

“I guess! I just thought it’d be longer than that!”

“I’m sure it has been longer than that.”

“Really?”

“Prom night was just the point of no return - that no matter what I did, my feelings were absolute and I couldn’t be in denial anymore. But I didn’t feel any different… And that’s when I assumed I just always loved you.”

“Even when I do stupid shit like this, you still loved me that much, huh?”

“Even with a busted lip, I still think you’re the most handsome.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he chuckled. “Do you know when I knew?”

“Uh, last year?”

“Nope. On your tenth birthday.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. When you shared your birthday cake and gave me the corner slice with the most icing flowers on it, I knew you were the one for me.”

“Can you be serious for once!?”

“Baby, I am dead serious! Look me in the eyes - well, my good eye.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Felix pressed a long kiss to your forehead and then rested his own up against it. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“And being an ass.”

“Yes, and being the biggest ass.”

You dared to kiss his lips, but just enough for them to touch, too worried about hurting his bruise. Felix didn’t care - this was the only time you’d have your first kiss and he wanted it to be long and slow, putting his all into your very first kiss even if it hurt a little. His lips were hungry for yours and so were his hands, making you drop the frozen peas on the floor so he could pull you into his lap to deepen the kiss. Wandering hands traveled your waist and your own in his hair and all your worries about wondering if love was truly real melted away with every second. Even when you broke free to come up for air, Felix refused to loosen his grip on your waist, holding you so close that he buried his face in the nape of your neck. He short breaths tickled your skin and when you giggled, he peppered kisses all over. Your laugh was music to his ears.

“Do you forgive me?” he said in between kisses.

“Mm,” you hummed. “Just don’t leave my side again.”

“Never again. I promise you.”

“Well… Where do we go from here?”

“Hm… I get to eat my favorite soup with the love of my life?”

“I like the sound of that.”

“And then straight to bed.”

“But it’s only 9:00 pm?” A playful, naughty smirk spread across Felix’s lips. “Lee Felix!”

“What!? I won the race, can’t I get a prize!?”

“Stop.”

Soup was always better with your love and a cup of frozen peas.

[alighieri-sparda]

A stinky devil and bath thoughts | Vergil x M!Reader

Summary: Vergil is all yours again. You decide to give him a relaxing bath to ease his mind — and get rid of that stinky smell of demonic creatures after a few months in Hell.

Masterlist | Rules | A simple gift for @mooshs-crack-headcanons

Happy birthday! And this time, with the real gift. xD I hope you enjoy this fluffy piece I wrote for you. I wish I could give you something better, but that’s what I got :’D You deserve only the best, Paul. You know it.~

It’s important to mention that I got the most of inspiration for this work from the ‘Washing a Devil’ series by Chrome, specially from this particular chapter. So, please, if you guys haven’t read it yet, please do! It’s really lovely.

Lots of a passionate Vergil under the cut. 

- - - - - -

Vergil is finally back. Back to the place he could always call home, the safest spot in the world for him: your gentle and comfortable arms. Vergil is finally back. Back to the place he could always call home, the safest spot in the world for him: your gentle and comfortable arms. 

When he crossed the front door of your house, the first thing you did before saying anything was holding him closely, kissing those soft lips of his you missed after several months without his presence. Vergil is your safe spot as much as you are his, and now you both feel complete.

However, something started to bother both of you when you separated the kiss: the smell of demon guts and sweat was not the most welcoming in the world. You didn’t mention it at first, but Vergil quickly realized how unfortunate this condition would be for you both and suggested to take a bath before doing anything else.

“Let me wash you then.” You smiled, your words sounded so pure and heartwarming to the half demon’s ears that he couldn’t help smiling as well.

[...]

You slide your hands down Vergil’s strong arms, taking the collar of his coat as a starting point to make his black piece of cloth fall on the floor. Then, you go to his buttoned shirt, unfastening it at a gentle pace. Your eyes gradually catch the sight of his torso as the shirt is unbuttoned, and you can’t stop admiring how gorgeous this man looks even so stinky and dirty.  

The man under your touch observes your actions in a calm state of mind which he hadn’t seen himself feeling in years. You had been waiting for him for months straight, and yet you don’t hesitate in slowing things down just to admire his presence, enjoying every inch of his body and every spectrum of his personality. A tranquil gaze rests on his eyes because he knows he’s safe with you. There’s no need to rush things.

Once the last button is finally unclasped, you let it fall over his arms, letting it join his coat on the floor. Vergil looks almost ashamed of looking like that; his torso is all grimy, even supposedly protected by his layers of clothes. You, on the other hand, don’t mind at all. The smile that draws onto your lips evidences your actual enjoyment of that situation. 

“How can you smile at this filthy situation of mine?” Vergil chuckles when he notices the happy tilt of your lips.

“Because I’m about to have a lot of fun washing you.” You explain, visibly excited for what is going to happen next. 

Vergil sighs as he watches your hands go to his belt and undo it in a blink of an eye, throwing it out of his waistband just as rapidly as you ease the grip of his pants around his hips. You welcome his relieved reactions with a kiss on his cheek.

“You’re enjoying it, aren’t you?” He asks, smirking at your playful expression.

“How couldn’t I enjoy you, Vergil?” You say as your fingers hook the waistband of his pants and his underwear at the same time, pulling them down in one single movement. He suddenly gets exposed, and it scares him a little bit. Even if it’s under your sight.

Instead of grinning back at Vergil’s perceptible shudder, however, you only smile softly, comforting him.

“Now let’s get you cleaned.”

Then you kiss his cheek again, encouraging him to keep going with that. It isn’t like he wasn’t enjoying it though.

In a few steps, Vergil sits in the bathtub previously prepared by you with a medium warm water level. He lets a heavy breath out of his lungs when he starts feeling cleansed after months stinking like demonic corpses. The smell is really not good, but you ignore it as much as you can. It’s not his fault anyway.

You turn the faucet that indicates hot water while bringing the bottle of shampoo and soap closer to your reach with your other hand. The sound of water falling and mixing with the one already in the bathtub fills the bathroom. When the water level rises enough, you turn off the faucet.

In the meantime, Vergil has closed his eyes, taking the opportunity to relax his muscles and enjoy being under your care again. The sweet smell of the soap and shampoo already enters his nostrils; he exhales at the good sensation being intensified by his temporary privation of sight. Then, he groans satisfied when the hot water suddenly falls on his scalp. Vergil wasn’t really paying much attention to the sounds around him.

Once you sit beside the bathtub, you pay attention to his head and face firstly. You let the water do the primary and simpler work as you gently rub your fingertips all over his face, cleansing the dirt stuck to his skin and some thin lines of dried blood all over his cheeks, jawline, and nose bridge. He leans his head back at your personal touch, sighing quietly.

“You look so beautiful.” You whisper unconsciously. 

Vergil doesn’t seem to notice your compliment. His eyes are still closed and his chest slowly moves up and down. You can tell he’s enjoying it.

After you’re done cleaning his face, your hands now reach his neck and shoulders. This time, instead of just rubbing only your fingertips on his skin, you use your entire palm to massage and cleanse the superficial dirt at the same time. Vergil’s muscles get a little tensioned when you first touch them, but he quickly relaxes them again against your gentle touch. Another satisfied groan says it all.

“I thought you wouldn’t accept me back, [Name].” He suddenly says, blinking slowly his eyes and looking at you after some time. “When Dante and I came back, I’ve already started to think that I would have to live with my brother. And I almost locked myself back in Hell again.”

You chuckle while you don’t stop the movements on his shoulders.

“I’d never let you do it to yourself, Vergil,” You giggle. Now, you take the shampoo bottle in your hands and squeeze it, letting a generous amount of shampoo fall on Vergil’s hair. Putting it back in place, your fingers finally run through his strands of hair, massaging and scouring his scalp. “Besides, being stuck in Hell wasn’t your fault. It’d be unfair not accepting you back.”

“Well… It actually was.” He answers in a more serious tone. “The Qliphoth only raised under my command, due to my uncontrollable pursuit of power. I don’t even deserve to be here, to begin with.”

Your fingers stop the massage for a while. One of your hands now touches the back of his neck as the other one gently fondles his cheek.

“But now it is in the past. You’ve certainly made mistakes through your path, everyone does at some point, but you’re here with me now. And that’s the only thing that matters.” You whisper. Unlike the past two times, now you prefer to kiss his soft lips instead of his cheek. A comforting peck to remind him how important he is to you. To remember he’s safe now.

You slide your hands over his damp skin, putting them back on his scalp once more. Vergil just sighs, clearly affected by your lovely words.

The grunts of satisfaction that Vergil lets out while you clean his hair make you want to stay that way forever, just listening to the sounds of his satisfaction as you enjoy the caress that you know he likes best, but you have more work to do.

That being said, you finally wash the shampoo away from his scalp, still massaging it to be sure you cleaned it completely. While your hands do the cleansing part, you observe Vergil’s expression again: he’s just like he was before talking to you, eyes closed and relaxed face. Another unconscious smile draws onto your lips. 

Your intention with all this is not only to clean him but also make him relax as much as you can. Because of that, you soap your hands and massage the skin of his face, neck, and shoulders with the soap that remains on your palms instead of scrubbing it directly on his body. Vergil visibly appreciates your action, taking a short breath as he feels the good smell of the soap purifying his body.

“[Name],” He mumbles your name suddenly. Probably asking for your attention.

“Hm?”

“Do you recall a tattooed man knocking on your door sometime before the incident?”

You can’t help but smile when you listen to his words. His point is already clear for you.

“Yeah, I do.” You answer as you keep your hand movements. Your fingers are now finishing up his shoulders area, just taking the opportunity to relieve the tension that remains in his muscles. “I almost couldn’t believe it when he said he was you.”

“But I knew you would do so.” A gentle smile crossed his face. “Besides thinking about my family, when I saw myself that incomplete, another important thought crossed my mind: checking if you were doing well. If my lack of presence didn’t put you into any dangerous situations.”

He searched one of your soaped hands, kissing the back of it. 

“I wanted to kiss you so much on that day. But you would fairly refuse my request.”

“Thanks for being aware of it,” You chuckle, embracing his shoulders even outside of the bathtub. “But I need to confess that seeing you as a smaller and more fragile man than me was a lovely sight.”

“Oh, you think so?” This time, the smile on his lips gets a more teasing tone. “How cute. But, honestly, I prefer to see you like the pretty fragile man here.”

“I know that.” You giggle in response. Then, you leave the embrace to catch the soap once more while you move your gaze all around the bathtub, looking for a good spot to position yourself for the next step of the bath. “Now I need to wash the rest of your body, but I can’t find any good position to do it.”

“Allow me to facilitate the things for you then.”

When Vergil says this, you first think that he would reposition his body in the bathtub to make your work easier somehow — and he did move, but not with the intentions you thought he would have. There is no time for you to react: in the blink of an eye, Vergil pulls you into the bathtub. You would be impressed, but Vergil is a half-demon after all. He always has at least a little bit of strength guarded in case he needs it.

“Hey--!” You even try to scold him, but it is in vain. When you come to your senses, you��re sitting on his lap, and your clothes are now sticking to your skin due to their soaking. When did he get that cheeky?

“So, is it better for you now?” You haven’t seen that playful grin in months. Although the situation is not the most satisfying in the world now — soaked clothes are not comfortable at all —, you can’t complain about it. It only shows you how much he missed your presence. 

“You…!” The laugh that comes up to your throat can’t be helped at all. “Jeez, you could have asked me for a shared bath before!” You didn’t mean to have one, but if that’s what he wants, now you have no choice but to give it to him. 

“Stop complaining and take off these soaked clothes.”

He didn’t even need to ask you this, to begin with. You don’t get out of the bathtub to take them off, just getting rid of them quickly and then throwing them to the same point where Vergil’s clothes were left before. 

Once you are completely bare, Vergil gives you no time to react again: he kisses your lips passionately as he lets his hands explore your body freely; his smooth yet audacious hands make your body shiver in surprise, feeling his fingertips reach your chest, back and then your waist, the place he rests his arms around when you separate the kiss.

“I missed you.” He whispers against your lips, holding you even closer as you embrace his shoulders once more, but this time it feels a lot better. Vergil has never been this talkative before, even with you, so this sentence of his is already proved to you due to his previous attitudes. 

You whisper as sincerely as he did: “I missed you too.” 

Vergil slowly puts himself back in his previous position, forcing you to break that embrace. His gaze follows your body up and down as he comforts your legs across his lap.

“Now you can finish your work.” He smiles at you softly.

The next couple of minutes are all about you doing to his chest, back and arms the same as you did previously, gently removing the superficial dirt with your fingers, letting the water help you with that. Your touches keep the intimate intention by massaging his muscles and cleansing them with the soap in your palms as a happy smile crosses your face every time you hear a satisfied or relaxed hum coming from him.

Although the relaxation you provided him during this whole process, you notice that Vergil is still awake when you announce that you’re done with his bath. He blinks slowly after minutes straight with his eyes closed, looking directly at you again. 

Before he can say anything, it’s now your turn to surprise him with a kiss. Vergil looks so adorable under your care, with his guard completely off and heart opened, just for you.

“You smell so good now.” You giggle against his lips after this last kiss.

“Thanks to you, of course.” He winks.

“Listen, I could stay like that with you all night long, but I prefer our bedroom to do so.” You slowly get out of the bathtub, taking the towel in your hands on your way. “You can get up now. I’ll just get some dry and clean clothes for us both.”

Once you’re standing beside the bathtub and move your body to go to your bedroom, a strong hand grabs your wrist, stopping you where you are.

“I surely can leave the bathtub. But I need to do something before wearing any clothes.”

Your night is far away from finishing there because Vergil did miss you. In all of your ways.

[blu3mila]

PUSHIT

it’s a song by Tool that i’ve been sitting with for a little over a month now, wanting to say something. tried it in several ways and decided on a post overview, so here comes a stack of thoughts.

my first go at it was a painting. it came from scrambling, a part of the song that stuck with me from the start:

“You're pushing, and shoving, and scrambling To keep my feet flat on the ground”

i painted it, painted what sounded exactly like scrambling, like a shuffle, like kicking with enough desperation for it to land on something, anything. didn’t post.

i thought of Children next: ”We Will Adore Our Children“, a text i published last November. the concepts that i wanted to pinpoint with it got shown, but i know i mostly i skirted along the edges there. a conversation i had about that work left me with a phrase that i’m still carrying now: “a backdoor for disgusting”. the vital subtlety of handling certain topics.

i didn’t want anything readable and i didn’t publish my first painting. i reread Children. i felt, once again, the funny kinship, closeness, understanding, dialogue with another piece.

“And if when I say I might fade like a sigh if I stay You minimize my movement anyway I must persuade you another way”

it’s comforting to find something to relate to especially if it’s this specific, and it’s heartbreaking to not really, actually have a human connection with that. some sad isolation. i wrote this text.

i adore what the song accomplishes in its 10 minutes. there’s a repetition that links the whole story, the song starts with it:

“I saw the gap again today”

a scene that gets mentioned three times, three times that can be compared. the first one carrying the setting tone, “how things are”. the second one:

“I'm slipping back into the gap again”

escalates. still the same, the same familiar scene, but this time it just so happens to grow into an outward fight. the way the music supports this feeling is what hooked me in the first time: it feels and sounds like a fight. no break in the middle, it keeps going and going till it ends and leaves you to pick up the pieces. 

then picking up the pieces… no time is wasted here. it could be called a moment of quiet on which to build a climax, something to contrast with and… yeah, but what i adore here is the way it plays into the concept as well. putting this quiet passage right after a fight; it feels like a journey, the one that is made with one’s feelings. yet another “this can’t go on like this” but here it somehow actually leads somewhere. very hollow, tired out stating of the facts:

“You put me somewhere I don't wanna be”

coming to the first conclusion:

“Never want to see that place again”

notice how the music changes through this, how the tone changes with this conclusion. how the tone stresses that it is a conclusion, a decision made. good or bad doesn’t even matter comparatively, what matters is that it is change. something to move from. something that promises that the next time you see the gap, you’ve already given in to something, accepted that it won’t stay the same. then it comes the third time:

“Saw that gap again today Managed to push myself away And you, as well, my dear”

how the music comes with, how it sounds joyous, how it feels almost excited to do something different, something new, something that isn’t repeating the same old rotten pattern. when the next phrase comes sounding like a prayer, it delivers the cemented decision: 

“And if when I say I might fade like a sigh if I stay You minimize my movement anyway I must persuade you another way”

what gets to me the most here is the wording: it’s the “if” that i didn’t even notice the first couple times around.

i can’t tell if it really is that big or if it’s something subjective, but… it seals the deal for me. it’s written with so much awareness of how these things go: it makes the whole passage a logical argument.

it’s not “you do this and that, and i need to do something”. it’s not, because really, what does it matter if “you do this and that”? you’ve done it forever and i’ve taken it before, i don’t “need” to do anything. see the pattern? see how easily it slips away, the sympathy for the self? the hint of an idea that you don’t “need” to take it?

this is what the “if” changes, though. it frames the whole thing as an argument, as a logical conclusion, as a fact. and feelings and personal needs don’t matter, but facts can. this is how you trick yourself into bettering the situation, you say: “IF you do this and that regardless of my plea, THEN i do something”. it’s a subtle little thing in the wording but presenting it as an “action and logical, planned response” rather than “action and my reaction, my, god forbid, feelings” is what sells to the mind that is used to coping with an inescapable situation. or previously inescapable. it’s nothing factual, nothing actually different in the meaning behind the packaging of words, but it’s how convincing, proving things to yourself can be.

whatever, there goes the revelation! it’s sung, it resonates and rises above the gloom and the rot, and does so in a beautifully realistic way: not by anything kind and loving but by admitting that it’s all about pushing and shoving and pushing.

it is dear to me how this idea is directly faced, how the song breaks out into something living, colourful, pushes through with survival. how the shape that this survival takes is violence.

“Remember I'll always love you As I claw your fucking throat away” 

how anger is a sign of healing. how anger is a fucking sign of healing. this concept keeps blowing me away still.

i love understanding what has pained me in the idea of “acceptance, forgiving and moving on”: it’s the fact that often enough people skip the anger in the process. no, people expect others to skip the anger and that skewers the whole thing, turns it into a different beast altogether. 

going from a place of being hurt, having that hurt, internalizing that hurt and the reasoning for it… what would happen if the anger stage was skipped? if you were told “forgive them and move on, it’ll be easier” without having first reached the anger, the stage where a person realizes that the whole experience was, like, no-go?

possibly there will be no realizing altogether. outwardly or inwardly, the blame will stick and be the main feeling behind the experience. it will be internalized with nothing to balance it out. it will be cemented in the shape of the one that hurt, but it will no longer be a separate being, it’ll live in you. anger is the barrier, the understanding that it has never been even, that one side fucking HURT the other. whether it ever gets to peace with the other is not even that important, peace with self is. switching the self-blame for anger is, any day.

i believe the song celebrates it, but most importantly, it shows how it is a cycle. now it’s in you, the pushing and shoving, now it’s the first response to anything remotely resembling a threat. it’s the price, no, not price, it’s the consequence of having made it out.

i love how this song has the whole journey in it. i love this song, i love it as an art piece. i love how the concept for it was put together with the medium, how it managed to say all that and make it feel like what it was saying.

i also love that the theme goes through the entire album and other songs add to the picture. if “Pushit” shows coming into anger/survival, then “H.” definitely addresses the cost of that reaction. and it does that with so much empathy that it breaks my heart a little. but yeah, the struggle goes on and whatever, there are like other Tool albums out there…

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

Being a spouse and being a brother are not mutually exclusive.

This cannot be emphasized enough.

Ian being married to Mickey doesn’t suddenly elevate that relationship to being of greater importance than what he has with his family. Lip being committed to Tami doesn’t suddenly elevate that relationship to being of greater importance than what he has with his family. I feel that the show has been exceedingly clear about what happens when we ignore the other relationships in our lives to focus on a romantic one, and it never turns out well. It was a huge part of Fiona’s story at times; she isn’t the only one.

The scene on the steps is so important for this very reason. The entire season, Lip has been in a very selfish position. He wants to have his cake and eat it too, to feel like he’s got control over things while taking care of his new and original families. He hasn’t forsaken his family for Tami and Fred, though it appears as such earlier in the season. It’s for his pride. It’s for his own sense of self. It’s to preserve the bit of power over his life that all the Gallaghers, Kev, and V are clearly feeling the loss of as the area gentrifies. He’s been a bad partner, a bad father, and a bad sibling for much of the last few episodes since things turned sour and he realized that he’s not as in control as he thinks—that he can’t be in a neighborhood where they have the Mercedes Rule these days. (It’s always been there, but it was never relevant to the South Side until now.)

This has put a strain on his relationship with Ian in particular, one that we have only seen hints of because Ian tends to minimize his feelings by nature if there are other priorities to focus on. He knew Lip was having a hard time, so he went along with selling while visibly not enthused. He was accused of living in Lip’s shadow again, so he didn’t go along anymore to prove a point. He found the healthy medium where he can have an opinion without tying it to what Lip wants despite it having the same outcome, so he could mostly look the other way on the sledgehammer and the inconvenience of renovations.

The conversation on the stairs wasn’t about Mickey. That was addressed, but it wasn’t the purpose. It wasn’t even Ian’s first priority, nor do I think it should have been at that time. Mickey is a grown man who can take care of himself, and he wasn’t guiltless in the escalation of that fight, whether due to the frustrations he definitely has with Lip or the ones that Ian sparked by even wanting to move into that apartment let alone signing the lease.

That conversation was about being a brother first and foremost and a husband second, because getting married doesn’t erase his status in his family. It adds another position in his family and another set of roles for him to perform. But Lip, for as awful as he’s been this season, has also been going it alone. Yes, that’s been his choice. Yes, he’s brought a large part of this on himself. But no matter what I do, no matter how much difficulty I land myself in or how much hardship I cause my older sister in the process, I know for a fact that she will be there when I need her like Ian was for Lip in that moment.

It doesn’t matter that he was pissed off about the fight, which was very obvious in how he approached Lip with the pliers and frozen vegetables and his body language and tone for most of the scene. It doesn’t matter that he probably already got another bag for his husband and isn’t pleased with him for hitting Lip either. None of that matters, because getting married doesn’t negate the relationship he has with his family and that they’ll need him too. It doesn’t make him suddenly have to choose between the two and have competing notions of where his loyalties need to lie.

The conversation on the steps was so very important because Ian went there to be Lip’s brother, first and foremost. He listened when Lip needed to get out what’s been stewing inside him and, if past events have been any indication, what he rarely ever talks about as openly with anyone but Ian. He offered comfort in the form of pointing out where he’s got a problem and where he needs to realize that he’s in a dark place in a remarkable parallel to their conversation outside the courthouse about Ian going to the clinic and getting better. And, most importantly, he encouraged Lip to get help from someone better equipped to do that than Ian, who has been where Liam is now with Frank to a lesser extent at the height of Lip’s alcoholism and who has the impact on his own mental health to consider before helping anyone else with theirs. Once that was accomplished—once all of that had been communicated—he switched hats and told Lip where Lip needed to stand with his husband. It wasn’t much, just an acknowledgement of what happened and a warning to never let it happen again. But it wasn’t his focus. It wasn’t his priority.

Because being a spouse and being a brother are not mutually exclusive, and thank goodness for that.

[felassan]

Extended thoughts on the Dark Fortress preview pages [spoilers at link]

(Would I be an MJ if I did not do this? This post is under a cut due to spoilers.)

I like the preview pages a lot, I’m excited for release - roll on March 31. There’s a lot packed into just these limited pages, so I’m looking forwards to seeing the issue and its contents in their entirety. 

A flashback to the Battle of Ostagar all those years ago is the last thing I was expecting when coming to this comic and it hit me with a one-two of feelings and nostalgia. Up there just off-screen, the Hero of Ferelden and Alistair have just lit the beacon in the Tower of Ishal. In these panels, the rain, the lighting, the atmosphere - it’s surreal (not in a bad way) seeing these fateful events again, back where it all kinda began really, and that page does a good job of replicating that cutscene and the heavy feel of it in a different medium. It’s a nice touch seeing surprise/unsureness and even conflict on some of the soldiers’ faces as Loghain gives the order to retreat. A couple of them even seen disconcerted as they walk away (looking at one another in askance). I like this take on Ser Cauthrien, and I wonder if Aaron ever encountered Aveline, Wynne, Carver or non-mage Hawke at Ostagar before the battle...?

Loghain’s words “He must do what his honor compels him to do” almost feel like a bit of metacommentary, i.e. on Loghain’s character in addition to obviously being about Ser Aaron.

In-universe before now, there have been varying accounts of Ser Aaron’s experience at Ostagar. Did he miss the fight, did he kill two ogres, etc. Now we see the truth of the matter is exactly as he told Vaea, which speaks of the trust and close relationship between the two. I’m not going to lie, the “I am coming my king” and subsequent panels make me cry on this re-read. Aaron reaching out for Cailan in his sleep with his other fist clenched, jerking awake from a nightmare in a cold sweat.. Aaron is so brave, he was the sole or one of the few soldiers in Loghain’s company to make this kind of stand (and you can see that there was a moment when he did turn to leave and considered it before turning back), and these panels convey the extent of the trauma that he experienced on the field of battle that day. I’m positive that in panel 2 here, it’s the exact moment when he sees Cailan die. It also hurts to think that not far from there, Duncan is seeing the same thing. They’ve done a good job integrating the new characters’ pasts with previous canon events with things like these. It’s like, expanding on things, but without anything conflicting.

When Aaron reaches for his alcohol skin I’m pretty sure his hand is shaking. Vaea is so tender and understanding/supportive at this part and it’s a really poignant and soft moment for them.. Aaron’s nightmares are a regular occurrence it seems. I love her and their relationship so much.. keeping watch over him while he sleeps a bit away from the others and the fire. ;; Also Autumn’s ears here, she’s lying down but still listening to what’s going on with and between her people. ;;

Brief pause here: I always appreciate getting a good sense where different events are taking place in the additional media. Also we now have in-universe confirmation that in the timeline we’ve now reached 9:45, as opposed to only external word-of-god. Do you guys ever think about your Wardens and how it’s been 15 years for them?

Aaron is like a father to Vaea 😭

Fenris has two daggers now in addition to his twohanded sword. The better for ending Danarius’ bloodline my dear 🔪

Have they tweaked Fenris’ hairstyle a bit, compared to Blue Wraith? Possibly also his skintone and eyebrows, compared to Blue Wraith? (I find this kind of thing hard to tell. If I’m incorrect here please feel free to correct me.) He looks good in this preview.

Poor Francesca. Tessa is really kind at this part and it’s nice to see more moments like these between female characters (women supporting one another). It reminds me of the moment in a previous issue where Vaea hugs Francesca on the ground. Tessa makes a great point here that true strength isn’t necessarily being stoic and unemotional, it’s standing up for what you believe in and for the greater good, even at great personal cost. It’s not 'not crying' and hiding your sadness. That’s a nice message, and again, Fran has really grown on me.

I also think it speaks well of Fenris and his character development after all these years in-universe that he was looking for a way to help Aaron, then immediately thought to go speak to Francesca when she was upset to see if he could help her in turn.

hhh brooding silent Marius staring broodily and silently into the flames and not responding to Fenris’ attempt at making conversation tho, the gentle lampshading..  That’s so true to his character. These might be my favorite panels in the whole preview. Fenris’ dry wit and facial expressions, the general composition, Fenris peacing out like “ok bye ig” lmao. You also get the sense that Fenris is reeling a bit and feeling abandoned since Hawke and co split up. After trying to do something to help both Aaron and Fran above, he then tries to make conversation with Marius. He’s trying to lighten the mood but also to connect after being alone for some time. He has missed having a group around him, and I suspect this group with its varying troubles and issues reminds him a lot of Hawke and co. That both the humor aspect and this characterization comes through in these 3 panels is pretty brilliant.

We reach the titular dark fortress! If ever there was a fortress for a bad guy, huh? x) The narrow exposed causeway being the only approach is a smart line of defense, strategically. Also, the realization that this is where Fenris lived while he was a slave of Danarius’ :| It’s a horrible-looking place and will be full of bad memories for him.

If this is how stormy the Nocen Sea gets in places - well, it reminds me of the lore that in Thedas naval exploration beyond the known map has been historically limited by different factors like pirates, Qunari dreadnoughts, stormy seas and sea creatures etc.

Characters speaking their native languages in places is always a nice touch. Now we’ve heard “By the Maker!” in Orlesian.

Aspects of the style and architecture of the Tevinter buildings in this preview, like the window shapes and the red lights and stuff, echo or remind me of what we’ve seen of Minrathous in the most recent trailer and some of the recent pieces of concept art for the next game. Neat.

We have our name and identity for the mage on the cover! Tractus Danarius, bastard son of Danarius. Danarius fucked around huh. “Tractus” has a Latin root, fittingly for a Tevinter name. Its different meanings are quite interesting: being dragged, extracted, plundered, an anthem sung in some masses, an elongated area or abnormal passage... I wonder if one of them will come into play somehow, the name possibly having been chosen for a reason? I also wonder how young Tractus is relative to Fenris, and if their paths have ever crossed in the past.

Tractus makes his entrance with two elven slaves or servants in tow. Like on the cover, his eyes are red. The head of his staff is a red sphere, also. Can we assume a connection to red lyrium, then, given these factors and the villains’ interest in using red lyrium to power the sarcophagus? I would guess that as normal magic was required to make it work with blue lyrium, the thing required to make it work with red lyrium is blood magic? A blood magic ritual. My guess is that the thing Tractus shows Marquette and Nenealeus is probably a chained up dragon or similar, which they plan to sacrifice and use the blood/power derived from that to fuel the magic/ritual. This is considering blood as a theme in this setting, blood as a source of power mechanically and the dragon-like beast on one of the covers which has clearly at one point been shackled and collared. (Here’s some previous speculation about Dark Fortress based on the covers.)

Although Tractus’ relative youth and inexperience compared to Nenealeus comes across in these pages, I get the feeling that Nenealeus will regret talking down in this manner to Tractus later in the comic.

It seems Tractus paints his nails dark. His commitment to aesthetic I give 5/5 stars

Remember the fall of Ventus/Qarinus to the Antaam invasion in TN? The Antaam must be progressing through Tevinter if people fear that Neromenian may soon fall also.

I appreciate that everyone’s horse is different! It’s a nice touch. A lot of the time in media groups of people ride identical horses like they’re clones or automatons as opposed to actual creatures.

Tractus’ smile when he’s asking if they’re going to wait for Qintara to arrive is slightly manic, lol, he’s giving off “Are we there yet?” car journey energy here. The doorway in this panel - is that a portcullis-style door? It seems like it has spikes at the bottom which would sink into the floor, and that there’s some kind of mechanism running along the floor towards it. Presumably to contain the [dragon?]?

I forgot Nenealeus has a sword - I guess then he knows magic artforms similar to those of a Knight-Enchanter or Arcane Warrior. Also here, Marquette echoes the Executor in TN, with the sentiment that Qintara fell with Ventus. Nenealeus is then referencing Gaius, the impersonator Qintara, right? That’s interesting; Gaius’ true master was Fen’Harel, on whose behalf he accessed important information about the world. This means then [?] that some of the time when Gaius believed himself to be working on behalf of Fen’Harel, he was really being manipulated by Nenealeus. Poor Gaius, at different points Fen’Harel and Nenealeus were pulling his strings. Does Nenealeus’ manipulation refer to Gaius trading it away to House Danarius for information?

Marquette references the red lyrium idol, and suddenly my Dragon Age 4 ears are pricking the way Autumn’s do. x) He mentions that it makes weapons, referencing I assume Meredith’s lyrium sword, Certainty and the ritual blade that pops out from the base of the idol during The Dread Wolf Take You. I wonder when the events of this comic take place in relation to the stories related at the spy meeting in TDWTY? Is this before or after the events of the Mortalitasi’s tale? At any rate, Marquette voices something we’ve been obsessing over: what else can and does the idol do specifically, beyond just making weapons and being Ominous and Powerful? Because whatever it is, it’s key to Solas’ ongoing plans, and Solas obviously knows.

So it seems that the villains’ plan is to use the red lyrium idol’s sword part with the sarcophagus, red lyrium, a ritual and [the thing Tractus shows them in that panel - the dragon?] in order to transform Shirallas into, essentially, a Red Wraith, a Red Lyrium Fenris. And then to arm him, under Nenealeus’ control, with the sword.

Does Shirallas still have his vallaslin - is it just the lighting and the angle in that panel? Also, that panel with Shirallas and Nenealeus looks so ominous and foreboding 😭 .. (and reminds me somehow of Fenris and Danarius when Fenris was still his slave and bodyguard) Shirallas, we really are in it now 😭 This is a really cool panel btw, like the composition, the lighting, the dramatic-ness. 

Nenealeus is motivated by a desire to route the Antaam from Tevinter (like the mage in the Mortalitasi’s tale in TDWTY) and reconquer lost lands in order to restore the glory of the Imperium (which reminds me in a way of of Aurelian Titus, who also wanted to restore the Imperium to greatness). Classically Tevinter here.

“Danarius the Lesser” is a sick burn. I’d guess Tractus’ life thus far, as a bastard, has had themes and struggles with inferiority and consequent lack of power but desire for it (being disrespected, but craving respect, being connected to a certain world but not really part of it, in fact rejected by it). Venatori connection confirmed. That the Venatori had to be convinced to accept someone as a Danarius - implications for the role of the Venatori remnants and their role in Tevinter and things in general going forwards? Lightning flashes overhead as Tractus and Nenealeus have this face-off in that panel, emphasizing the tension between the two. I wonder what the magic in the fortress and in the courtyard can do? It’d have been no mean feat to escape from this place as a slave, it seems, especially bearing in mind there’s only one proper way out, that causeway (passage not included). Tractus’ staff-head lights up when he’s making a threat (uh-oh), and then wow! Shirallas moves so quickly, in the blink of an eye suddenly appearing out of nowhere and startling the guard-mage onlookers. He’s fast and formidable.

I wonder about Tractus. Is he a “half blood” because he’s a bastard and his mother wasn’t an Altus, or even wasn’t a mage, or because he’s a bastard and his mother was an elf? Or both?

Will we see a face-off between perrepataes (Marius and Shirallas)? Will Marius face-off against his former master, Nenealeus? Perhaps a showdown between the Blue Wraith and the “Red Wraith” is on the cards?

Back to our team in the tavern! There’s a looot of great character content packed into these pages, which is really cool. Each brief character interaction conveys a lot, and in general this sequence is just well-executed imo. How troubled and tired Aaron looks at the bar (my heart.. it hurts); Fran worrying for Aaron; Vaea knowing that she can’t pressure him too much because that’s just not how it works when it comes to folks who struggle with issues like these; Vaea asking after Fran’s wellbeing; Fran struggling to come to terms with what happened to her father; Fenris watching the door waiting for news (he’s so vigilant isn’t he? safety, an escape-route..); Marius Broods Harder; Vaea’s [relative] pacifism being highlighted; Vaea engaging Marius looking for reassurance; and the choice of having Marius break his silence now is meaningful and impactful in that it shows what happens when one becomes ‘numb’ to the constant murderizing of people, so to speak. Fenris then rightfully points out that becoming numb to killing and violence isn’t really a good thing and is worse, really, than being ‘soft’ or uncomfortable with it. I wonder if he’s speaking from experience here, given the hundreds of people Hawke and co kill their way through during the Kirkwall years, for example. Then Vaea’s concern for Aaron and his state of mind, and Fenris’ uncanny insight into that, of a man he’s only recently met.

Tessa looks so cute when she comes in the door! I love Vaea’s lil “:D” face when she sees her, and I wonder what the tavern food on the table is.

Those two panels, when Fenris talks about Hawke and Leandra, are the biggest emotional gut-punch in the preview pages 😭 omg.. I’m not strong enough for this.. bls... bruh... This is then compounded by (hitting me when I’m down!!) the look of sheer... fear, fury, alarm, upset, shock - that appears on Fenris’ face as soon as he hears “I found Danarius”. Seriously, look at his eyes here. He (understandably) still has a trauma-response associated with the name/man.

Bless Tessa. 

I have to say, it’s very Metal of Fenris that not only did he kill Danarius in DA2 (in those universes), but he has also been going around Tevinter since then killing all of Danarius’ [adult] heirs, and that his response to learning there’s still one remaining is to grab his sword and go to march off with the aim of ending the bloodline a second time. Very metal

I love the final panels in the preview as well! Vaea’s sense/smarts and how she wasn’t afraid to tell Fenris no, Autumn’s giant ears, how Autumn also moves with Vaea to step in front of Fenris to stop him (SHE! HELPED!!!), Autumn’s Happy Face and furiously wagging tail and agreement with Aaron, and Proud Dad Aaron rising from his slump to praise Vaea with the most Proudest Daddest expression that you ever did see...  ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

[02-lucy-san-05]

Working on my Genshin Persona - Part 1:

Dialogues:

-> Hello: Ah! I see you are a foreign traveler as well, and the popular one amongst the four us here no less... Pleasure to make your acquaintance! I go by many different names, but you may call me Aia. I hope we can get along quite well.

-> Good Morning: *yawn* Mooooorrning, did you sleep well~? Time to start a new day... I'll wip us up some breakfast and we'll be on our way shortly. Unless... you wanna stay in and sleep a little more?

-> Good Afternoon: It sure is lovely today, perfect hour for landscape painting! I wonder... Ooohh I hope there aren't any Wopper Flowers or slimes hiding anywhere here! O-oh...! Umm... can you sit on that log over there? I-I sort of... want you to be... a part of the painting...

-> Good Evening: Hmmm wanna stop by Wangshu Inn and say hi to Xiao? I-I'm not saying that because I'm hungry and I want to eat!!! M-my stomach just happened to be rumbling and... and... ughhh fine, you got me... but it wouldn't hurt to see Xiao too though... Its been a while since I've last seen anyone there...

-> Goodnight: The sun has gone down to where it first came from... but it still shines so bright that it's reflected by the moon itself... A true beauty to behold... Ah s-sorry! I was just thinking out loud... I'll see you in the morning, sweet dreams...

-> Chat_1: I wonder how everyone else is doing back home... I hope they're all okay...

-> Chat_2: *Sniff sniff* What's that scent? It smells... familiar...

-> Chat_3: If only the others could see this world too... Then it wouldn't be as lonely for me...

-> When it rains: I like to think that rain is the tears of the clouds baring, if not, a little pain. Let's just hope that thunder won't strike us as the grieve...

-> When it's windy: Such a lovely breeze... So carefree and without worry... If only most people were like that, but alas! It's surly better than nothing...

-> When it snows: Fluffy snow falling from the sky... Only the best can be found up in Dragonspine! A reflection of short lasting purity as it melts away when the summers come back...

-> Alt_Sprint_Start: No time to waste...

-> Alt_Sprint_End: Emerged from stone and dust...

-> Gliding: Haha! I can see everything from up here!

-> About Aia - Reality Shifting: Have you ever felt like you just wanted to leave this reality and craft one on your own, so you have somewhere to call home at least...? Ah well who am I kidding, of course you have, haha, you and your brother used to shift between worlds quite a lot before he was taken by the Abyss... How do I know? O-oh umm... that's uhhh something I heard... from a story!

->About Aia - Rumors: Something that I realized over the course of a few months living here is that rumors about everything tend to spread like wildfire, no matter the event's important or how big it is. It's like an ear to ear newspaper just circulating among everyone, constantly changing to fit everyone's stories. Despite their deceptive nature, however, they too are mediums of information when trying to find leads for something we need. Speaking of leads, aren't you also basing your search for your brother on rumors and whatnot...?

-> Anything to share: I genuinely don't like being in big crowds like in bustling market places and big cities because there's a high risk of me losing my travelling companions in there. Should we ever get separated, even for a slight glimpse of time... my mental system will "Overload" resulting in me having a breakdown in front of everyone...! That's why I prefer to go alone while travelling, anyone would be embarrassed to be associated with me passed that point, so I'd be saving to trouble of public humiliation for the both of us really...

-> Interesting things: This may come across as a surprise to many people who have yet to fully know me but... I have a special nack for knowing things I'm not supposed know and doing things that would never be typical of me to do them. I'll always be lurking about, silent as a stone... I know almost everything about almost everyone in Teyvat, and yet... people don't even know I exist. I know everything one has to hide. H-hey now... let's not draw any swords out here... I-I would never use any of the information I gather against anyone else!!! Blackmail is just not my thing, and it never will be!! I'm not a Fatui after all you know, and even they know it's unethical to use... And besides, I have no use for what I gather, so I just stire it in a small section of my brain so it'll never be forgotten...! I swear on this husk and I hope to forever disappear into the void, you have my word!

-> Aia's Hobbies: Hmm sometimes I draw and read when I'm not exploring and adventuring, sometimes I like walking through busy shop streets like the ones in Liyue! If I can scrounge enough mora, I'll buy a few hand made sketchbooks and reading book. My favorites are the ones that are writen and illustrated by two amazing individuals whom I have a feeling we both know haha! Their work is quite inspiring to behold, it gives me a new sense of hope that I too can be as great as them one day...

-> Aia's Troubles: I can't tell if you noticed but I'm really no good with verbal communication... It's such a hassle for me to get to the point of what I'm trying to say... and most of the time it ends up being the complete opposite of what I want to say.... At this point I've completely given up on trying anymore so I just try to stay quiet for as long as I can, until the time where I will have to say something. That only happens in critical situations only anyways so, I guess... "Yay Silence...!"? I don't know...

-> Favorite Food: I'll eat absolutely anything that's edible and won't have any weird side effects on me! It really doesn't matter what it is, if I can digest it, then I'll most definitely eat it... that being said, I do very much enjoy ramen noodles and sweet things, but there's not much of that in the wild so...

-> Least Favorite Food: Well, people can't really expect a gourmet meal or a specialty drink in the depths of the wild and whatnot, so ultimately we have to make do with what we can gather so that it's filling and can last us for a couple of hours. That being said, I guess the Boiled eggs with Violet Grass and Sweet Mint I made when I first got here probably examples of what not to cook when in the wild. Please... for the love of Celestia, don't say anything to Xiang Ling and Paimon, they'll kill for sure!

-> Visions: Visions...? You mean this? Hmm... yes, it is quite the welcome gift, at least for me when I first got here, can't really speak for the others. From what I understand, they serve as elemental catalysts, allowing one to use the elements as they please - quite the interesting concept if I do say so myself. In my opinion, Geo Vision Holders are the ones who fascinate me the most, I can't tell whether it's due to their character as people - a trait which they'd have in common, or it's due to something greater. Either way, Geo is easier to manage, but I respect all vision holders individually, no doubt! _____________________________________________________________ ->Fallen_I: For... the unknown...and...forgotten...! ->Fallen_II: Take me...home... ->Fallen_III: Leave me... alone... -> Opening a Chest_I: Hmm, now what do we do with all these little trinckets? -> Opening a chest_II: Well would look at that... -> Opening a chest_III: One being's unneeded utilities are another's valuables... -> Opening a chest_IV: The chest has served it's purpose well. -> Elemental Skill_I: This will do for now. -> Elemental Skill_II: This is much more fitting -> Elemental Skill_III: Here we go! -> Elemental Burst_I: Come forth, my scythe! -> Elemental Burst_II: Come through, my creations! -> Elemental Burst_III: The all-seeing eye passes judgement upon you! -> Elemental Burst_IV: Say your prayers! -> Low hit taken_I: Who dares-? -> Low hit taken_II: Can you not. -> Low hit taken_III: Do it again, I dare you, you little- -> Heavy hit taken_I: Don't touch me! -> Heavy hit taken_II: OW! Grrrr...! COME BACK HERE AND FIGHT ME! -> Heavy hit taken_III: Are you testing me?! -> Low HP_I: I'll do it myself...! -> Low HP_II: Come on... just a few more hits will do the trick...! -> Low HP_III: Don't worry about me... go, now! -> Low HP_IV: Who cares...! I'll take care of this, now go! -> Joining the party_I: Are we going somewhere? -> Joining the party_II: Sketchbook...pencils...food...yup! I'm all set! -> Joining the party_III: Let's goooo, I'm so exited to go out! -> Joining the party_IV: Let me carry those things for you.

Ok it works 👍🏾

The above is my reference, Noelle is best waifu

Fight me.

[specterchasing-a]

Eddie Carridine & Dani Edwards

A first attempt at analyzing Eddie’s relationships.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Depression, suicidal ideations (in the form of disregard for their own lives), and generally heavy topics such as loneliness and death.

At first glance, Eddie and Dani don’t seem to have much in common. She’s a dedicated slayer with a strict code, someone who values the importance of supernatural secrecy above almost all else. He’s a loose-lipped kid with a camera, preaching about how wonderful supernatural beings are. Needless to say, they clash—hard, but dig a little deeper than surface level and these two have more in common than they might ever know.

SOCIAL LIVES

Dan’s moms kept her on a rigid training schedule with little room for interpersonal relationships to develop. Eddie’s parents, albeit with vastly different motivations behind their actions, tried their best to keep him quiet and obedient. As one would assume, this kinda fucked them both up in a major way. Neither is particularly well-versed in navigating social situations, though that disadvantage presents itself in different ways between them. Dani keeps her emotions to herself and prefers to keep people at arm’s length while Eddie throws himself at whoever shows him an ounce of kindness. Different, yet alike, you feel me?

VIEWS ON DEATH

As a slayer, Dani’s gift is death (sorry, not sorry, for the Buffy reference) and Eddie, being a medium, has been surrounded by death since childhood. They cope with grief in different ways but both view death as something inevitable, maybe they even think that’s a good thing. Dani’s purpose is to die for the sake of humanity. If she doesn’t, she’s a failure. Eddie believes he doesn’t have a purpose outside of shepherding the dead and exposing the truth. Beyond that, he’s just a corpse waiting to happen. Neither Dani or Eddie view death as something to be afraid of. It is what it is, and it’ll probably come sooner rather than later.

STUBBORNNESS 

Yes, Eddie and Dani hold directly opposing views on the subject of supernatural secrecy but, more than that, they’re both assholes about it in the same way. When they first reunited at the grocery store and Dani saved Eddie’s life, Eddie blew up at her. He told her exactly what he thought and didn’t pull punches. It was not the first time Dani had been assaulted with narrow-minded stupidity and probably wouldn’t be the last. Initially, she bit back as she asserted her own views. Neither listened to the other, not really. Both of them were dead-set on believing the other was wrong, leaving no room for growth or understanding. They were like two unfortunately similar magnets pushing each other away.

IDEALS

Another instance of Dani and Eddie being alike, yet different can be seen in what motivates their actions. Clearly, they go about things with oppositional methods, but they are both driven by a need to make the world a safer place. Dani, rough-n-tough slayer that she is, is more interested in protecting humans and ridding the world of supernatural threats. By doing her job, she literally makes the streets of White Crest safer for its squishy, mortal  inhabitants. Eddie, on the other hand, wants the world to be safer for supernatural beings. He sees them as outcasts with targets on their backs, bogged down by unwarranted prejudices and falsely spun bad reputations. In his idea of utopia we’d all hold hands while we sing ‘We Are The World’ and outgrow things like murder and human sacrifice. If you ask me, neither of them have realistic expectations for how the world should treat supernaturals, but what matters is that they firmly believe they’ve got it all figured out and that the rest of the population needs to catch up with their massive brains. I realize this echoes a lot of what I said about their stubbornness but this is my impassioned rant about two idiots and I’ll be redundant if I want to.

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS

Dani, considering she was raised to be a murder machine with a quickly approaching expiration date, doesn’t see love as a possibility for herself. For other people? Sure, but such luxuries shouldn’t be wasted on someone with a terminal birthright. Eddie, though this is quickly changing in lieu of his budding relationship with Alfie, never saw himself as someone who would fall in love either. Because of repression and guilt, he wanted to be right, too. Romantic love, whatever shape it took, was wonderful for everyone else. Let them fall into each other’s arms and make five-year plans together, Eddie would keep himself busy memorizing gravestones. Love scared him, so he left it alone. From what I can tell, Dani’s not scared of love—it’s just inconceivable to think she might experience it. Still, recent growth on Eddie’s part aside, they used to both be resigned to going through life alone.

LONELINESS

Okay, yeah, they’re resigned to going through life alone but, unfortunately for them, human beings are social creatures. Dani, I believe, might not always be aware of how much she needs other people but, at times, she reads as an exceptionally lonely character. On dash, characters have reached out to her after crises and her initial responses were always heartfelt and, most importantly, crossed out. Her first instinct is to show affection and concern because she does, in fact, know on some level that she needs people in her life but… that’s not supposed to be in the cards for her. Dani shelves her unfeigned distress in favor of lukewarm receptions. Some exceptions might be with Athena or a few other characters at times but, for the most part, Dani tends to isolate herself.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, we have Eddie. If someone says so much as one nice thing about him, he’s prepared to commit atrocities in their name. He’s not shy about it, either. He loves deeply and without prejudice. Recently, people have shown up in his life that give him countless chances to show-off how much devotion spills out of his heart on a daily basis. But it wasn’t always like that. For most of Eddie’s life, the majority of people he met made him feel like a freak. High school was hell for him, not that he’s unique for that. His fellow students tormented and ostracized him, his parents wanted nothing to do with him, and he struggled for a long-time trying to figure out how to love himself when no one else seemed to. That particular obstacle is still an issue but it’s thankfully becoming more manageable. However, even with new friends and old relationships being galvanized, it’s hard for him to believe the past won’t infect the present and future. Yesterday’s heartache comes back to him in aftershocks of loneliness and fear. No matter what, Eddie cannot  completely escape feeling alone. So, he and Dani sadly have that in common as well.

[aspoonofsugar]

The Way Back Home

Lila’s shoes are always red, just like the Handler’s. It is a nice bit of foreshadowing and symbolism that links the two characters.

At the same time, this detail reminds me of The Wizard of Oz (the movie). I don’t think that this is a planned reference, but I think some aspects of the story fit with The Umbrella Academy and especially with season 2.

REGINALD AND THE HANDLER: THE WIZARD AND THE WITCH

Five is ironically both proud and ashamed of this talent. This duality aka his wish to be a hero and his pride as a killer are well conveyed by his relationship with both his father and the Handler.

As stated in this meta, the Handler and Reginald embody two different tendencies of Five, aka his pride as an assassin and his wish to be a hero. These two things are opposite, so one would think the same about the two people connected to them. In a sense, this is true. As a matter of fact the Handler and Reginald’s objectives are at odds. On one hand the Handler does not really care about the world. On the other hand Reginald wants to save it.

Because of this, it might seem that the Handler is the Big Bad, while Reginald is the Big Good. However, it is clear since season 1 that this is not the case. In particular, it is true that the Handler is a villain, just like the Wicked Witch of the West. Still, this does not make Reginald a hero, just like the Wizard of Oz is an ambiguous character in the original story.

In short, the Handler is a completely negative character, while Reginald is a more complex one. She serves as the main enemy this season, but he is the character the protagonists need to face to complete their journeys. This is why the Handler works as a foil to Reginald. In this way, she underlines his negative traits:

Both Reginald and the Handler pursue kids because of their extraordinary abilities and abuse them trying to mold them in who they want. Not only that, but in the end they both discard these children to take in “better ones”:

That said, the reason why the Handler and Reginald abandon their respective kids is the opposite.

On one hand the Handler dicards Lila because she turned out different from her.

The Handler is unable to love, while Lila is mainly motivated by love. She tries her best to be an assassin out of love for the Handler. She falls for Diego and refuses to kill him. Finally, she wants to kill Five to avenge her parents. For better or worse, Lila is always motivated by love and this is precisely why the Handler can’t keep using her forever:

On the other hand Reginald refuses his children because they share his own flaws:

Reginald: “Despite years of training and weeks of preparations, you allowed Number Six to die on this mission”. 

This is pretty clear in the scene above. There Reginald blames the kids for Ben’s death, but fails to recognize his own role in it. Reginald keeps telling his children to take responsibility. They should take responsibility for their powers, for their lives, for the world. However, he himself is a character, who always fails to recognize his own mistakes. Similarly, the things he criticizes his children for are usually traits he himself has.

Let’s consider this:

In a maybe simplicistic way, I am going to divide the siblings (minus Ben) in two groups:

a) Five, Luther and Diego want to be heroes, so they tend to be focused on saving the world.

b) Vanya, Allison and Klaus want to have fulfilling personal lives, so they tend to be focused on their relationships.

Some of Reginald’s children are focused on their mission of saving the world, while others simply want a fulfilling personal life.

Reginald fails at both things in ways that are incredibly similar to his kids.

On one hand Reginald, like his kids, is a failure hero. Just like Diego, he wants to save JFK, but fails. However, he is in a much better position to save the President than Diego and he is even warned by his children, who literally come from the future. Still, Reginald is too focused on antagonizing them and this leads to JFK’s death.

Similarly, he has trouble with a romantic partner just like Vanya, Allison and Klaus. Moreover, he eventually breaks up with Grace because he is not honest with her. This is exactly the same problem Vanya and Allison have.

Still, the two sisters in the end tell the truth to their partners and mendle their relationships.

Reginald instead refuses to open up to Grace and loses her.

In short, Reginald is a failure like his kids and he is even worse than them because he is less open to learn from his mistakes.

This is why in season 1, he ends up being involved with the apocalypse in all the ways the Umbrella Academy is.

Firstly, his mistreatement of Vanya and his cruelty to Harold Jenkins are among the factors that lead to the apocalypse. In short, Reginald is the heart of the dysfunctionality of the family and it is this dysfunctionality that leads to the end of the world.

Secondly, he deep down has the same delusion his sons have. He believes that to save the world it is necessary for the group to be together. However, him actually bringing the siblings together is what kickstarts the whole chain of events of season one. This is not to say that the siblings should be apart. In general, if they wanna grow as people they all need to solve their family issues. However, Reginald, like Five and Luther, is not being honest with himself. As far as we know, there is no logical reason as to why the Umbrella Academy should save the world. Still, there are plenty of emotional reasons as for why the characters want to bring the group back together.

In a sense, Reginald is probably the same. He too wants to bring the family back and for them to be heroes (so that he can succeed through them). However, instead of simply trying to reconnect with his kids, he chooses to kill himself.

This solution is a highly traumatic and manipulative one and it ties with Reginald not really wanting to put in the emotional work to make things better between him and his children. He gives them a trauma and leaves a bunch of secrets and of things unsolved.

In short, Reginald keeps reprimanding his children, but he fails to see how the flaws he points out are flaws he himself has. Differently, whenever one of the kids tries to call him out, he is ready to dismiss them.

In conclusion, Reginald, just like the Wizard of Oz, is looked up by the protagonists as the person that can fix everything. He can fix both them and their situation. The truth is that Reginald is just a normal person, who is even more flawed than his kids.

This is why he gives Five the same answer about the Apocalypse as the Handler:

It is not really because Reginald is not interested in saving the world, but because symbolically he can’t and his flaw is that he thinks he can. His kids should be more objective about what kind of person Reginald is and see him not as a hero or a villain, but as a human, who is greatly flawed to boot.

THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD TO BECOME WHO YOU WANT TO BE

To summarize, the season starts with a blue vortex taking the siblings to a far away world.

In order to go back home, they have to face a Wicked Witch:

And they seek help from an ambiguous Wizard, that is actually a person from another world:

However, this Wizard can’t really help them and the most he can do is to highlight that they already have within themselves the means to reach their objectives:

Reginald: “You only scratched the surface of what you were truly capable of. If only you had focused”.

Klaus: “Wait, wait, wait. What…What potential?”

Reginald: “Maybe your appetite is disproportionate to the size of your abilities. Start small. Seconds, not decades.” 

As you can see, there are some similarities (very loose ones) with the Wizard of Oz basic story-line.

What is interesting is especially the last part. Reginald manages to be useful to his kids in mostly two occasions. He manages to make Klaus realize he has more potential than what he thinks. And he manages to make Five think about the way he has been using his power.

Both times, the characters are able to unlock new powers in the finale because of their father’s words and they use these new abilities to save their siblings:

The siblings unlocking new abilities is important because their powers symbolize both their flaws and the way to overcome them. I have analyzed each sibling here and in many cases I have shown how their powers are symbolic.

Here, I will make a quick summary and highlight that the siblings’ powers represent both their problems and their solutions in ways that are often ironic.

1) Luther’s power is superstrength. However, this power contrasts with his sensitive personality:

In order to grow Luther must become a “stronger person”, not in the sense that he must be physically strong, but in the sense that he must be stronger psychologically.

Moreover, he has gorilla DNA, but, especially in season 1, he wants to act as a superhuman. The truth is that he is neither a monster nor a superhuman, but just a person and he should accept it.

2) Diego’s power is trajectory manipulation. Despite this, he is not really able to change his own trajectory to one different from the one Reginald chose for him:

3) Allison’s power is that she can turn lies and illusions into reality. Her voice can literally control others. Despite this, she often finds herself losing it and she does not realize that it could actually change the world for the better, if she learnt to use it correctly:

4) Klaus’s power is that he can communicate with the deads. Despite this, he is scared of death and does not accept it:

He is annoyed by his siblings not listening to him. but he himself does not listen to the voices of the ghosts, who would like to convey a message to the livings. He prefers to use drugs to keep them at bay.

He is literally a medium, someone who should create links between people, but he refuses this role. He isolates himself from the major conflicts and refuses to involve Ben in the family conversations.

5) Five’s power is that he can control space-time. Despite this, he has never enough time:

Five (every two seconds): “We have no time for this!”

This is a recurring motif in Five’s story. Not only does he always have no time to stop the apocalypse, but he is also the one, who has spent the least amount of time with his family. Moreover, he is the one, who has “lived” the least, despite being the oldest.

This is why him rewinding time at the end of season 2 is important:

Reginald:  “ So much can change in a matter of seconds. One can overthrow and empire. One can fall in love. An acorn doesn’t become an oak overnight. “

It is because is focus is switching on the idea that a bunch of seconds matter and that it is small moments that are important in one’s life.

6) Ben’s power is to be a portal for a monster. Ironically, he is actually the one, who more openly conveys the feelings of love for his siblings. He is the one, who comforts Vanya this season and he generally works as the heart of the family in everyone’s memory. It is possible more focus on him will make a more in depth analysis possible, but as for now this contrast between his personality and his power is the only thing we have.

7) Vanya’s power is that she can convert sounds into energy. It is also clear that her powers are strictly connected to her emotions. Despite this, she usually represses her feelings:

This repression is symbolically conveyed with her always ending up imprisoned somewhere:

The physical prisons she finds herself in are nothing more than representations of her constricted mental state. It also ties with the paradox that she always ends up victimized despite being the strongest among her siblings.

In short, the siblings’ arcs are conveyed also with them learning to control their powers better because their powers are nothing, but underdeveloped parts of their personalities. If they were to better understand themselves they would be able to perfectly control their abilities.

They are like the Lion, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow. They are all searching for things they already have. It is just that they fail to notice and search them outside themselves.

It is because of this ignorance that they lose against Lila.

LILA: A CHILD AWAY FROM HOME

Lila is just another version of The Umbrella Academy kids:

She is them and who they could have become. This is why her power lets her copy theirs.

Hopefully, Lila will be back and we will be given more insight on what her power means for her character. For example, @hamliet suggested that Lila does not really know who she is and this is why she copies others. This reading fits and will probably be explored more in future seasons.

However, it is clear that the choice of Lila’s power has mostly to do with the Hargreeves’ siblings.

She copies their powers because she is them. After all, she is one of the children born the 1st of October 1989 and was stolen and trained by an abusive parent. Moreover, she foils each sibling in a specific way and her fights (or lack of a fight) with them say how.

First of all, she copies Vanya’s power and uses them to create a barrier and to destroy the farm with an energy wave:

She is emotionally distancing herself from them (creating a barrier) and lashing out on them (energy wave). She is acting on her negative feelings toward them and attacking them. This is precisely what Vanya does at the end of season 1. If Vanya is the angry child they have to fight and to save in season 1, then Lila is the lost and angry child they have to confront in season 2. If Vanya has been hurt by her family, then Lila has been hurt by Five. Both characters have their reasons to be angry and even if these reasons do not justify their actions, they need to be aknowledged.

Then Lila confronts Luther and copies his superstrength. While they are fighting she mocks him in this way:

It is ironic that she says so because what makes she and Luther similar is that they both lack self-esteem. They both feel that they are not enough and want to prove to their parent their value. This is why Lila shows jealousy over her mother’s treatment of Five, for example:

Both Luther and Lila must overcome their parent’s shadow and start living for themselves, so that they can figure out who they are.

At this point, Lila faces Allison and she is able to take Allison’s breath away thanks to a “rumor”:

It is an occurrence of Allison losing her voice (a recurring motif in her arc). Why does Lila manage to steal it? It is because Lila is a liar, just like Allison herself:

Lila too builds her major relationships on lies. On one hand she is on the receiving hand of this by the Handler:

On the other hand she lies to Diego:

Lila and Allison are two people so scared that they won’t be loved if they are their true selves that they have the tendency to lie to both themselves and others.

Finally, Lila finds Five aka his major target and they start fighting each other. The truth is that Five dislikes Lila because she represents everything he dislikes about himself. Not only she is an assassin of the Commission like Five used to be, but he has unknowingly done to her what the Handler did to him:

Lila is the direct consequence of Five’s violence. Moreover, she is also the character that challenges Five’s pride the most directly:

Five has tied his identity with his talent as a killer, but Lila is clearly as skilled as him, if not more, and they are able to go toe to toe. Of course, the thing is mutual. Lila too is proud of her talent and wants to prove herself. This is one of the reasons she dislikes Five since the beginning.

Both Lila and Five are victims of a system that has manipulated them and tied who they are to killing. They should both overcome this imposed identity and let go of a pride that is negative for them.

At this point, Diego and the others come. This scene is symbolic of the whole family facing another version of itself. What is more, they attempt to do what they did not in season 1 with Vanya. Instead of trying to kill Lila, they try to reconcile with her and to have her join their family:

In particular, Diego is the one, who does so and it is because Lila represents a positive quality in his case. She represents Diego’s potential to “change trajectory” and they manage to influence each other positively. It is not by chance that when Diego arrives Lila is holding a knife aka his signature weapon. That knife is supposed to hurt Diego and his family, but he manages to change its trajectory:

This is because both Lila and Diego are two characters, who are clearly able to change and improve. Lila, like Diego in season 1, is obsessed with revenge, but is able to let go because of a loved one. In other words, Diego teaches Lila what he had learnt from Patch.

However, in the end Lila does not join the family (at least for now) and runs away. Why is that so thematically? Moreover, what about Klaus? Why did she not face him?

She does not face Klaus because she is unable to face her own grief, just like Klaus runs away from his own. Ironically, Klaus’s power is the one that could let Lila contact her dead parents and find closure. However, the two do not meet and Lila’s story in season 2 ends with more grief:

Sure, the Handler never cared about Lila, but she was still her adoptive mother and Lila will have to process her loss. It is the same for Klaus, who will have to process his unsolved feelings for Ben:

Both characters have to process loss and grief (let’s think that Klaus’s focus this season was mostly about accepting Dave’s death), but they struggle to do so. This is why they are similar and this is also why they do not face each other. It is because they are both running away. Klaus runs away from his power and from its potential for catharsis and reconciliation. Lila too runs away and it is actually the last thing she does on-screen. She runs away in time to avoid facing the pain and conflict she has in front of her.

In a sense, she is following in The Umbrella Academy’s footsteps. They ended season 1 time-travelling to escape the apocalypse, while Lila ends season 2 time-travelling to escape her ghosts and contradictions.

The question then is if she will manage to go back home. It won’t be easy because as Allison says in the last episode:

Allison: “I wish I could tell you it’s gonna be easier from here, but it’s not. It’s going to get worse before it gets better (...) before we fins the right way home.”

This is true for the Hargreeves as well. They might have managed to leave Dallas, but they are still far away from home:

Just like Dorothy initially loses her chance to leave Oz with the Wizard, they are still stranded. That said, they just have to remember that the means to find their place in the world is something they have within themselves. They just have to realize it.

[lady-griffin]

Who do you think will Katarina end up with?

Geordo

There are several reasons for why I think this. 

He is the male lead and is considered in the character introductions at the beginning of each Light Novel, to be One of the TWO leads, while the rest of the cast are divided up as secondary to minor characters.

This is how the characters are introduced in the Light Novels 1-5.

Katarina and Geordo’s character introductions are untouched for the most part from novel to novel. But the way the other characters are introduced with each novel changes bit by bit.

From Alan and Keith being marked as secondary characters in the 1st novel.

To Alan, Keith, and Nicol being marked as secondary characters in the 2nd novel.

To the entire Harem (minus Geordo) being marked as secondary characters in the 3rd novel and onwards.

Now I don’t know the characters introductions beyond the 5th novel, but I highly doubt that they have changed that much or if at all.

Katarina and Geordo are clearly marked as being equal in character importance – the Female Lead and the Male Lead.

Though, in the actual events of the story, Katarina is clearly the MAIN character while Geordo is just one of the many characters who is rotating around her.

--

Geordo is the first character who we truly meet in the story (excluding Katarina). Signifying his importance to the story as a whole. 

Not only that, but he is only the first character introduced as a romantic interest 

OG Katarina immediately falling for him

Geordo proposing to Katarina

Geordo and Katarina being engaged

As well as the first Doom Flag -

Katarina realizes she’s in the game of Fortune Lover because of Geordo’s name and the fact that their engagement story is the same as from the game. Because of that, we learn what that actually means for Katarina who is the villainess of the original story. Or at least, what she thinks it means. 

--

Being a romantic interest and a doom flag is a character position solely unique to Geordo and Keith.

While every now and again, Katarina will bring up that Maria, Alan and or Nicol are potentially “dangerous” to her and thus people she needs to keep an eye on for her safety… in all honestly, they’re really not. 

Honestly, it kind of feels like the author(s) forget that the other characters could hypothetically be a ‘threat’ to Katarina and remember it randomly at times, and thus just insert it into the story. 

Geordo and Keith are the true “doom flags” for Katarina. And even in that regard, Geordo and Keith are treated somewhat differently from one another. 

Geordo’s role as a doom flag, is given a lot more attention than Keith as a doom flag. Now Katarina will insure her “safety” by telling Keith that she will never stand in his way of him being in love with someone, but that’s about it, as the years go on. 

Katarina practicing her magic and getting stronger in that field to avoid being killed by Keith, is basically dropped as soon as it’s mentioned. As Katarina’s magic is quickly established as being weak, no matter what she does. So, that aspect of the story is a bit forgotten as the story moves forward.

But really, I think that even Katarina realizes that Keith as a doom flag is basically a neutralized threat, because of their close sibling relationship.

Geordo on the other hand, is still treated as a Doom Flag. Essentially all of her plans of escaping her doom, are basically plans that focus on Geordo turning on her and how to escape him specifically. Her snakes and even her sword-fighting (which is brought up less than the snakes).

So, one of the main premises of the story - the romantic and comedic tension of Katarina thinking her love-interests are potential doom-interests for her – is largely dominated by Geordo and Katarina’s relationship with him.

Though Keith is a close second in that regard. 

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Rivalry 

While everyone is a rival, Geordo and Keith are the two main rivals (especially in the Manga).

We see this with their constant passive aggressive fighting and commentary towards one another, as well as being essential and core elements to the whole Harem and its dynamic.

Now, depending on which medium your engaging with, there are very strong arguments for Maria, Mary, or Alan being a third main rival character or if not that, at least being at a higher level than the others.

Maria

Maria is the original MC from Fortune Lover and is essential to Katarina’s fate…or at least in Katarina’s mind she is. That alone separates her from the others Harem Members. 

Maria is also marked a being different the the rest, by being the newcomer to the Harem, and her and Katarina’s relationship (friendship and more) is a factor to the overall story. 

All of that marks her as being if not a main rival, then certainly higher than others. 

Mary

Mary get in the thick of it as much as Geordo and Keith do (especially in the novels). She is a constant thorn and wrench to Geordo and everyone else, but mostly Geordo.

Alan

Alan, because of his character design and popularity among fans, he gets leveled up and is given more attention as the story continues to progress and the anime clearly cements him as a main rival.

As shown in Vol 5. Geordo is the main rival to everyone and they’re all separated into groups into what their roles are in regards to breaking Geordo and Katarina’s engagement up and keeping them apart.

While really for comedic sakes, Geordo being the biggest opponent to everyone does, to some degree, tell us about his chances with Katarina (or at least I think so).  

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Kiss Scenes (LIGHT NOVEL SPOILERS BELOW)

In Novels 1-5, there are essentially 8 kisses that Katarina receives from the other characters (on her hand to her lips).

Out of these kisses, Geordo is the partner 6 times. Out of these kisses there are 3 pictures, that while not depicting the kisses themselves, do depict the moment just before. All of those pictures depict Geordo’s kisses.

Hand Kiss – Geordo (Vol.1)

There is a picture depicting the overall proposal scene, but not Geordo kissing Katarina’s hand or him about to.

Neck Kiss – Geordo (Vol.1)

There is a picture of Geordo hugging Katarina as they dance, right before he kisses her, but I didn’t really think it counted.

Water Kiss – Geordo (Vol.2)

This is absolutely a kiss scene. You can debate whether it’s CPR or something else, but the way it’s treated in the context of the story - it’s a kiss scene. Simple as that. 

Neck Kiss 2.0 – Sora (Vol.3)

No picture.

Retaliation Kiss – Geordo (Vol.3)

No picture.

Confession Kiss – Geordo (Vol.3)

Basically, Katarina realizes that Geordo has romantic feelings for her in this scene. While she initially thought his Retaliation Kiss was just a dream of hers, a dream she was very flustered by, she is now more than aware of what is happening.

Waking Up Kiss – Keith (Vol.4)

Keith wakes up from his own Dark Magic Coma (so to speak) and thinking Katarina is just a dream, he kisses her, much to the shock of Katarina. 

No Picture.

Retaliation Kiss 2.0 – Geordo (Vol.4)

Upset that Keith kissed Katarina in the “Waking Up Kiss”, Geordo also kisses her. 

This scene in particular, especiall with the picture, I think really cements Geordo as the one who Katarina will end up with. 

Simply because, Keith just kissed Katarina and there was no picture depicting it even though it happened a few moments/pages ago, but yet Geordo’s kiss (or about to kiss) is depicted. So, to me, this seems very telling.

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[Update] Originally I brought up how Nicol kissed Katarina in Vol.8 that also had a picture depicitng the scene...but that was inaccurate. There is no kiss scene between the two in that moment.

Any others, I have no idea about. 

I’m just going to stick to the novels I have read up to this point. 

So, let’s get to my main point. Out of the 8 Kisses Katarina receives, in Volumes 1-5. It’s very telling to me that Geordo is the one doing the kissing 6 out of the 8 times. Plus, in the the first 5 Volumes, the 3 kisses that are depicted are Geordo’s.

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In Ch. 17.5 we have our first bonus chapter, which gives us a special look into Geordo’s feelings for Katarina. So far, Geordo is the only one who has received this treatment. 

Now that doesn’t mean others won’t, but I personally think that chapter is very sweet and romantic, so given that it’s Geordo’s chapter is another point for him.

In case, you somehow didn’t know, I love Ch. 17.5

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Finally given how the story was supposed to end at Vol 2.

It’s very interesting to me that the last chapter, is from Geordo’s POV. We get to see his view on their relationship and his feelings for Katarina, as well as the water kiss scene.

Geordo gives a brief summary of each of the characters. More importantly he thinks about how is not pleased that everyone else is in love with Katarina and how he might lose her, but he does admit that he’s okay with things staying like this for awhile longer. 

Largely because Katarina is so happy.

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I genuinely do think Geordo has the best shot of ending up with Katarina out of all the characters. 

Now whether I think that because I ship him and Katarina or whether I ship Geordo x Katarina because I think he has the best chance  is difficult to say. Probably both. 

Thanks for the question! :)