#there is just about enough stupidity and baffling decisions here to keep it entertaining in a minor way (far and away the highlight of this

[koutone-moved]

Saeran/Ray After Ending: My Thoughts

Hey everyone! I’m not one to really go in-depth about stuff in here, but I really felt the urge to talk about this since Saeran is a character that is really dear to me and this After Ending was something that I and many, many other people had been looking forward to for a long time.

I’ll be talking spoilers about the entire AE below the cut, so please beware!

I wanted to start off with the things I really did enjoy. 

Cheritz trying new things with the AEs for both V and Saeran was really great, in my opinion. They could have stuck with the previous format of just giving us sneak peeks into the respective couple’s life after getting together but instead decided to turn them into complete story expansions that felt more like Secret Endings. The effort and care everyone at Cheritz has put into these storylines is incredible and they deserve all the kudos and praise. 

The chatroom format was a really cool idea and having the player influence the outcome was something I greatly enjoyed. Having the story be a romance/thriller combination was super fun and immersive, too. The prologue was a great hook in my opinion--it had my heart beating fast with anxiety from the very start lolol.

ALL THE SAERAN FLUFF AND CALLS, LORD ALMIGHTY. I ADORED EVERY SECOND OF IT! I totally picture Saeran being a really cheesy and adoring boyfriend, especially since MC is so precious to him. I think they hit the nail right in the head with this.

The CGs were BEAUTIFUL. I was shocked at how many we got for a 4-day story, and they all really brought the story to life. Huge props to Cheritz for the immense effort they put into them.

The first two days of the AE (though extremely anxiety-inducing and emotionally painful for most of their duration, lol) were super entertaining and how I had always envisioned the story going down. I think having the PM and the agency unite forces as the main antagonistic force was awesome, and I really wish the story had solely focused on them.

Now, the things I didn’t like.

The Rika drama. I totally understand why addressing and breaking down Rika’s terrible actions is important for Saeran’s story. But... why, why did we need to revisit the “actually Rika has always been a good person that did some bad things” plot point when it was already done to death in V’s AE and route? I’m sorry, but this makes my blood boil.

Rika abused Saeran so badly to the point that he had to split his personality into two different people to survive, drugged him into hating his own brother, constantly told him and made him believe he was worthless if he didn’t work his ass off 24/7, killed his fucking mother, etc. The list goes on. Not to mention: she broke and drugged the minds of many other people! Not just Saeran!

I understand that the story gives us options to call Rika and V out on this bs and it encourages us to do it, but... just the fact that we have to entertain the possibility of forgiving her and letting her get off scot-free truly, truly fucking floors me.

What really bothered me about this is that this subplot took an entire day out of the 4-day story. A whole ass day that could have been spent developing the PM-agency storyline (which, again, I truly wish they had focused on). It really sucked that we had to spend a day exclusively talking to Rika and V about the same thing over, over, and over again.

V. What in the hell did Cheritz do to his character, lmao? I don’t like V at all and the actions he’s chosen to take in regards to Rika and Saeran have always truly infuriated and baffled me. But, I’ve never thought of him as someone who would willingly hurt the RFA.

I was SHOCKED to see how selfish and twisted he was in this story, especially in Day 3. He said he would never try to change Rika again and hoped she would flourish as a result and become a better person. But. My good man, how in the hell did he ever think that kidnapping two grown ass adults and forcing them to be their children was a sane decision? 

I was truly convinced until the very last moment that V returning to Rika was a red herring and that he had a plan all along to keep her in check and protect the RFA. But nope. 

I may not be a V stan, but even I know that V would never act so selfishly.

The GE/NE resolution. It felt so rushed and is the main reason why I think Day 3 should have been handled differently. The truly bullshit thing that stood out to me about it was how a short confrontation with the illegitimate son he gives no shits about is enough for the PM to have a change of heart. LOL. The corrupt, greedy prime minister that has his entire life and career hanging on a line is suddenly enlightened on his evil ways and turns himself in. Am I too cynical for thinking this resolution is stupid and makes no sense? I know at this point it was basically impossible for him to not get arrested, but I really didn’t buy this and it felt like cop-out from Cheritz’s part, writing-wise.

How Saeran’s trauma was handled. I know I already expressed loving how Saeran was towards MC in this AE, but that does not include this part specifically, lol.

I understand a big part of Saeran’s story is learning to forgive and understand to find true happiness and freedom. And I love that, it truly is a beautiful direction for his character.

I know Cheritz is not great at writing realistic trauma recovery for his characters--that was already apparent in Saeran’s route. But, I never found it so unrealistic to the point of breaking immersion for me until this AE. It just felt so silly at some points that I couldn’t even convince myself that maybe it was possible.

It’s been two weeks since he escaped Mint Eye, and... he is completely fine with talking casually to Rika, trying to understand her, and being in the same room as her? He is fine with confronting the PM and telling him he forgives him because ‘he must have a tragic past’? Really? 

Maybe he is just a better person than I am lol, but this was too much. I completely understand how someone could reach this level of inner peace and choose to forgive their abusers in order to heal. But. Two weeks. Although the circumstances were different, I think the Secret Ending handled Saeran’s recovery a lot better in this sense.

In Summary: LOVED Day 1 and 2, hated Day 3 and 4

I’m sorry if I got a bit too rant-y on the reasons why I disliked the AE LOL. I just had many feelings about it and couldn’t stop myself. If anyone wants to send me or comment their own thoughts, please feel free to do so!! I would love to read some different perspectives. 

I don’t hate the AE as whole, but it really let me down in some big ways. I’ll probably try to replay it in the future and see if I change my mind about some aspects about it, though. It’s sad to say this, but V’s AE left me feeling more fulfilled in some regards than this lol. I really wish Saeyoung would have had more involvement in the story, too.

I did love the very final epilogue for both the GE and NE, which was the main thing I was hoping for--so there’s that, I guess.

Anyways, thank you so much for reading!

[emachinescat]

The Neglected Neckerchief

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat ​

@febuwhump ​ day 21 - torture

Summary: A group of bandits torture Merlin in front of Arthur for their own entertainment, using Merlin’s beloved neckerchief against him in the cruelest of manners.  Now, Arthur must struggle to come to terms with a traumatized Merlin, whose neckerchief has been replaced by a ring of bruises.

Characters: Merlin, Arthur

Words: 4,730

TW: strangulation, panic attacks

Note: Based on my drabble series from “Moments” by the same name. Sorry for no cover/header picture today. I'm sick and doing the bare minimum. I will add one later when I feel up to making one!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Arthur had never understood his servant's attachment to that ratty triangle of fabric he wore around his neck. When he had first met Merlin, in fact, Arthur had downright hated it. He'd pestered his servant about it on many occasions, questioning the practicality, the fashion, the function of the neckerchief. Of course, Merlin never failed to follow up with a clever retort, but he never really answered the question, and eventually, Arthur got bored of teasing Merlin for his clothes and moved on to something else.

As the years passed, however, Arthur's derision for the odd neckwear faded, and before long, he found himself associating the neckerchief with Merlin himself. It got to the point where seeing Merlin without the accessory felt strange, and before he knew it, the prince realized that he actually liked that stupid scarf – though he would die before he admitted it to Merlin.

Now that he was older, perhaps a bit wiser than he had been as a young prince, King Arthur had a feeling that it wasn't so much the neckerchief that he'd grown to like, but the person who wore it. And since Merlin and his neckerchief were one and the same, it stood to reason that the king would have grown fond of it as well. Not that he would ever admit his affection for his servant out loud, either, of course. Not in so many words – or any words, really. That just wasn't how his relationship with Merlin worked.

Indeed, somewhere along the way, Merlin's neckerchief had become as much of a staple in Arthur's life as the servant himself. And yet, in the span of one bandit attack during a morning hunt, that all changed.

It had started off, as these things often do, as a normal patrol. It was a beautiful day, bright and warm, the sort of day where you would never expect anything horrible to happen. And yet –

It had been a week since the hunt turned to hell, and Arthur could still recall it so vividly that he might as well have been experiencing it all over again. Those five minutes of torture had branded themselves so deeply into his mind's eye that every time he fell asleep, he would go back – back to the forest, to the bandits and their laughter and their hands holding him back, holding him down. Back to the sounds. Oh gods, the sounds. Gagging, choking, panicked breaths, a mouth gaping open like a fish's, searching desperately for air that wouldn't come. Blue lips, still chest, and laughter. And, of course, in the center of it all, Merlin's beloved neckerchief.

***

One Week Ago

"Looks like we got a fine catch today, gentlemen!" The short, ugly brute of a bandit grinned at Arthur, half of his teeth rotten and the other half missing all together. "Is this a knight of Camelot we've stumbled upon?"

Arthur was relieved that they hadn't recognized him to be the king, at least. He tried to be as inconspicuous as possible on his outings, having Merlin hold on to the royal seal if they were going anywhere outside of the citadel – bandits generally ignored servants and focused on the more important looking people, after all. It was a clever trick, provided Merlin didn't lose the seal. So far, he'd kept up with it well enough on their journeys, and this time, it seemed to be paying off, as these bandits thought they were playing with just another knight and his servant.

But that didn't change the fact that Arthur and Merlin had been taken off guard, ambushed, and tied hand and foot by a band of ten morally bereft, muscle-heavy monsters who wouldn't know hygiene if it crashed into their thick skulls. Arthur had been shoved to his knees and held there by four men, who still struggled to keep him still. Two other men had done the same to his servant, but other than the usual bumps and bruises from fighting a losing battle, neither Arthur nor Merlin were hurt.

Arthur may not have been injured, but he was angry, mostly with himself. He'd known it was a bad idea to go on a hunt without any of the knights or guards to accompany him. He'd let Merlin come along because he knew that the obsessively loyal servant would have followed him anyway, and he'd much rather have Merlin by his side so he could keep an eye on him instead of being forced to listen to him thrashing around in the undergrowth making a racket while trying to be stealthy. As Athur had been reminded by his council many times, he was king now, and he had a responsibility to think not only of the safety and well-being of his people, but of himself as well. That meant no more running around in the forest on hunts or patrols without a guard. That meant telling the council where he was going to be at all times so that they would know to send someone after him if he didn't get back in time.

But Arthur had had enough. It had been a month since his father's death, and he was stifled in the castle. Even when he wasn't in Camelot, people still surrounded him on patrols and hunts, and even when those people were some of his closest friends – the knights – he often felt like he was being smothered, and his skin crawled at the thought of having to sit through one more council meeting or supervised hunt. He'd needed to get away. He'd told Guievere where he was going, of course. And then he'd grabbed his servant, all but dragging him out of the castle at the break of day, and they'd passed a pleasant enough morning, with Merlin scaring away half the prey. But as with most good things in King Arthur's life, this too had to end. The ambush had been unexpected and swift, and Guinevere wasn't expecting him back until evening – they were on their own.

As casually as he could, Arthur implored the bandits, "You have me, a knight of Camelot. My servant is of no use to you. Let him go."

The short, stocky bandit who seemed to be in charge considered this for a brief moment before crossing his tree-branch arms across his chest. "So he can run back to your coward king and bring a rescue party? Not likely."

"We're miles away from Camelot," Arthur pressed. "You could be long gone with me before he brings anyone back."

From the corner of his eye, Arthur watched Merlin frantically shake his head. Arthur ignored him, and prayed that the idiot would stay silent. All it would take would be Merlin saying "Arthur" one time, and the bandits would realize their mistake – and quickly seek to rectify it. Thankfully, Merlin seemed to be aware of the situation, and for once, blessedly, kept his mouth shut.

The leader ambled forward, brow creased as if thinking were incredibly painful for him. "You seem awfully keen to protect that servant of yours. Most knights don't give a damn about the help if their own lives are in danger. What's so special about that one?"

Arthur maintained eye contact with the brute before him. "I care about all those I have sworn to protect as a knight."

"Oh, that's rich!" A chorus of laughter from the surrounding bandits grated at Arthur's nerves. "Nah," the man continued, casting a glance over his shoulder at the skinny servant who glared defiantly back. "With those pretty blue eyes, I reckon he's more than just a servant."

"Yeah," called one of the bandits forcing Merlin to kneel. "The knight's consort I'd wager."

The leader swivelled back to face Arthur. "Is that it, Sir Knight? Is he your consort?"

Arthur didn't answer.

"Oh, now you clam up." The bandit leader seemed genuinely disappointed that he didn't get an answer. He peered at Arthur through slitted, suspicious eyes for a few charged seconds. Then he threw back his head and laughed.

"Well, lads, why don't we have a bit of fun before we head out?"

Arthur glanced at Merlin, and saw the servant looking back at him with wide, uncertain eyes. To Arthur's surprise, Merlin didn't look scared. In fact, Arthur thought that his servant appeared to be more conflicted than anything, like he was trying to make a difficult decision. Baffling as that was, it was hardly the most important thing on Arthur's mind at the moment.

The leader signaled to the men holding Merlin, and then everything went to hell.

One of the men lashed out with frightening speed for someone of his size, landing a devastating blow in the center of Merlin's back at the very second the servant was released. Arthur watched the kick connect, heard the pained cry, felt the thump as Merlin sprawled face-first onto the forest floor, hands tied behind his back, unable to move, barely able to breathe. Arthur had received similar kicks before, and he knew all too well the terror-inducing breathlessness that accompanied such injuries. He'd rarely wanted to kill someone as much as he wanted to kill the bandit who had inflicted such pain and panic on his servant.

But they weren't done yet. It got far, far worse.

The leader of the bandits stepped forward then, and squatted at the feebly stirring Merlin's side, still facing the king. Every muscle in Arthur's body tensed; his heart pounded deafeningly in his ears. Something very bad was going to happen, he could feel it in every fiber of his being. He'd seen enough violence and war and bloodshed, enough monsters, to know that this was far from over.

The bandit leader reached over and fingered the fabric of Merlin's neckerchief – he'd worn the blue one today. Arthur watched the idea form in the man's head even as Merlin began to recover a bit of his breath and attempted to squirm away from the bandit's touch. "Interesting fashion choice," the leader commented, sarcasm slathered generously on each word. "Makes my job easier though."

He clenched his meaty fist around the back of Merlin's scarf, and, keeping his eyes trained on the knight before him, slowly pulled up.

To Arthur, the world had slipped into slow motion. It was like the minutes just before a storm, when nature held its breath, birds forgot how to sing, and all of creation readied itself for the violence to come. He watched, horror coursing through him, as the first waves of realization and then panic dawned on his servant's dazed face. Blue eyes bulged wide, mouth opened in a soundless scream, and still, the bandit pulled.

The bandit took his time. He was in no rush. Arthur could see from the wild, glassy glint in his beady green eyes that he was relishing the control he had over the situation, over the man he was strangling. He never looked away from Arthur, not even when the agonized choking, coughing, gasping, hacking sounds began in earnest. Arthur, for his part, tried to ignore the man, and, as much as it hurt him, tore at his soul and twisted his stomach, the king kept his eyes on Merlin, trying to offer him comfort, reassurance, anything. Until Merlin's eyes started to dim, and his eyelids drooped as if a heavy weight had been tied to them, and the frantic heaves of his chest grew weak, and he knew Merlin was dying.

Despite his resolve to remain strong and unaffected, and despite his hopes that the bandit leader would grow tired of his cruel game if he thought Arthur was not emotionally invested, Arthur lost control. It had become clear to him that the man torturing Merlin did not care if he elicited a reaction from his other prisoner. He was tormenting – killing – Merlin because it was fun for him; the pleasure had written itself into his bright eyes and twisted smile. And Merlin was going to die.

Arthur lunged forward, a feral yell bursting from the deepest part of himself, and even with his hands bound behind his back and his ankles tied together, he nearly managed to shake off all of the four men holding him – and then three more added to their number, and Arthur found himself face-down just feet from Merlin, who was all but unconscious, barely fighting to breathe, and the pressure of the bandits on top of him was crushing. Arthur barely felt it beneath the weight of his failure.

The bandit leader now loomed over both master and servant, and to Arthur's surprise, he eased up pressure, releasing his grip slightly on Merlin's neckerchief and allowing the servant to drag in desperate, halted breaths, his eyes now bulging. Merlin coughed, deep, raw sounds grinding out from a shredded throat. Arthur could see a terrible, angry red line circling Merlin's neck, just beneath the neckerchief.

"Merlin – are you all right?" Arthur kept his voice low, hushed.

Tears were streaming down Merlin's cheeks, whether from fear or lack of oxygen or pain, Arthur didn't know. He tried to speak, and his voice hurt to hear; he sounded like his vocal chords had been slashed. "Aarrrrr…"

"Shhh," Arthur soothed, partially out of concern for Merlin's health, partially out of fear that Merlin would reveal Arthur's true identity. "It's okay, it's okay. Just breathe, okay? I'll find a way out of this." And Merlin looked at Arthur with such unmitigated trust in his gaze that Arthur felt like running himself through with his sword, because he had no plan. He had no hope. Surely, Merlin could see that, even in his state. Arthur had seven bandits piled on top of him, holding him motionless. The guilt crashed into Arthur with all the force of a battering ram into a fortress door. This was all his fault.

"S'not … your … fault," Merlin heaved out with great difficulty, and Arthur's blood ran cold. He was certain he hadn't said that out loud. How had Merlin known? It hit him – Merlin had known that Arthur was blaming himself because he knew Arthur.

The moment shattered as the bandit leader butted in, voice loud and abrasive, sending chills of fury across Arthur's flesh like an attacking army. "Now that you've got your breath back, Merlin, let's start from the top."

Arthur watched Merlin's eyes go wide with fear, and Arthur must have been giddy with it himself, because he could have sworn he saw a tiny bit of gold swirling in their depths right before the neckerchief was tightened and the imagined flame died out, and only terror remained.

The second time was just as slow and measured as the first. The bandit applied pressure in the tiniest increments, and this time, Arthur got a front-row view of the light leaving his friend's eyes. The noises were even worse up close, the coughs and gasps taking on the helm of death rattles. Merlin thrashed at first, trying to escape, to breathe, to do anything, and his lips lost color and turned blue, and now he was barely moving, barely breathing, and this time, the bandit leader had no intention of stopping.

Merlin's head and shoulders were now being held aloft by only the fabric around his neck, and his struggles ceased completely, his chest stilled.

Arthur squirmed desperately beneath the hold of the seven bandits, but even the adrenaline screaming through his body was not enough to throw them off. He could fear hot tears on his cheeks, knowing that if Merlin was not dead now, he would be soon. Arthur had been tortured before – it wasn't a common occurrence, but it had happened. And yet, nothing had prepared him for the kind of torture he had endured – was still enduring – in watching his closest friend die slowly and painfully, terrified, right in front of him. Arthur wanted to rip the men who were doing this limb from limb. He wanted to slowly squeeze the life out of the one strangling Merlin.

He wanted them to be strangling him instead.

All seemed lost – and would have been, if a Camelot patrol hadn't heard the commotion from a distance and come to investigate. There were six men, and they had the element of surprise. One moment, all was anguish and torture and the gut-clenching quiet that came at the end of life. The next, a short, fierce battle raged all around him. As soon as the bandits loosened their grip on him and Gwaine cut him free, Arthur joined the fight, catching the sword tossed at him by Elyan.

He ran through the man who had tortured his servant personally, with the same level of twisted glee and intimacy with which the man had strangled Merlin. It was so much more than he deserved.

Once the bandits had all been slain and lay scattered on the forest floor, Arthur raced to Merlin's side, slamming to his knees beside the servant. His hand shook so badly as he felt for the beat of Merlin's heart that Elyan had to take over, and his dark eyes were grave as he looked back at Arthur and shook his head.

"No," Arthur said simply, refusing to believe that Merlin was truly gone, that he had watched his friend die terribly before his eyes. "No, check again."

"No time for that," Gwaine snapped, falling to his knees on the opposite side of the servant and bending over the prone body. The blue of Merlin's lips was almost as vibrant as the color of the neckerchief that had so cruelly been turned against him.

The next few minutes passed in a blur of anxiety, disbelief, and finally relief, as Gwaine breathed for him, Arthur pounded on his chest, and Percival carried him home.

***

Merlin hadn't worn his neckerchief since that torturous day. He was sullen and nervous, jumping at small noises and avoiding Arthur, and refusing to wear anything to cover up those ghastly bruises.

He hadn't been able to talk for nearly a week after he'd woken up; Gaius said he was lucky that his windpipe wasn't crushed. But even after, Merlin barely spoke.

And gods, those bruises.

They encircled Merlin's pale neck like a grotesque mockery of the very scarf that had caused it. They had reached the stage where the very edges had started to yellow, but the inner ring was black, mottled with red and blue. Just looking at it hurt, and it was a constant reminder of the torture Merlin had gone through … and that Arthur had gone through, watching him. Arthur could not fathom that Merlin would prefer to walk around with those bruises in plain sight – surely they had to trigger bad memories as much as, if not more than, the neckerchief?

It was stupid, but Arthur couldn't stop himself thinking that when Merlin wore his neckerchief again, it would mean things were back to normal. That he was okay.

And so Arthur had a neckerchief made out of the finest material Guinevere could procure in the market. It was silk, so soft to the touch that Arthur wouldn't have minded falling asleep in it. It was a deep, Camelot red, and so light it was almost weightless.

When he presented it to Merlin, yesterday morning, the servant's eyes had twitched down to it, and where Arthur had thought he'd see gratitude, maybe even a hint of a smile, he saw only trepidation. Merlin had rasped a pained, "Thanks," then grabbed the scarf by one corner like it was a serpent poised to strike and shoved it into his pocket, out of sight. He hadn't worn it since.

"I don't understand," Arthur said to his wife over dinner, distress clear in his voice. "I replaced it."

"He's just not ready," Gwen soothed, though her brow was knit in worry.

"It's of a much finer material than his old one," Arthur insisted, as if he were trying to convince Gwen that Merlin should wear it.

"You have to be patient with him, Arthur. What happened to him was… traumatic. He has to come to terms with it in his own time."

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face. "I just can't stand looking at his bruises."

Gwen squeezed his hand, her eyes sad and wise and more beautiful than anything that Arthur had seen. "I know it hurts," she said, "and I mean no disrespect, but… Arthur, this isn't about you. It's not about your discomfort, it's not about the pain you went through seeing Merlin be hurt like that."

Arthur opened his mouth, unsure of what he was going to say, not even knowing if he was going to argue or agree with her.

Gwen held up a hand. "I'm not saying that what you went through was unimportant. I can't even imagine watching…" She trailed off, shuddered. "But you can't expect Merlin to wear something that causes him so much pain and fear, just because it makes you uncomfortable."

Arthur knew she was right, and told her so. He would have to find a way to look past the bruises, for now.

Merlin was avoiding Arthur – there were no two ways about it. He got to work early, woke Arthur, and then ran off to do the rest of his chores. Finally, at the end of week two, Arthur cornered him in the armory.

"Merlin." Arthur's face was serious, his eyes uncharacteristically concerned.

"Sorry, Sire, I have work to do," Merlin said stiffly. His voice still sounded as if it were being painfully squeezed from him. He tried to leave, but Arthur caught his arm, pretended he didn't see Merlin flinch.

"For the love of… if I give you the day off, will you stay and talk to me?"

Merlin's eyes were wide and his scowl looked more pathetic than annoyed. "I suppose I have little choice in the matter."

Arthur's heart constricted. "Merlin, I—"

"Look, I'm sorry I haven't been wearing the neckerchief," Merlin blurted, avoiding Arthur's eyes. "I just… I know you we retrying to help, but… Hold on, I'll go get it right now," he flustered. His cheeks were red and his eyes bright.

"Merlin, stop."

Merlin stopped.

"I realize I haven't been fair to you," the king said slowly, carefully. "I haven't been patient. What happened was… wrong. Do you need to talk to me about it?"

The dam broke.

Arthur had never seen Merlin cry like this before. He'd seen tears in his friend's eyes on various occasions, but never had he witnessed the choking, uncontrollable, full-bodied sobs that were now wrenched from the depths of Merlin's soul. At first, Arthur stood, uncertain, terrified that he was going to say or do the wrong thing, but then he thought of Merlin, and tried to imagine what he would do for him if the king were in this situation. A strange calm descended over him, and he gently took Merlin by the arm and guided him to the nearest chair – Arthur's chair, the most comfortable one in the room, the one he never let anyone else sit in, not even Guinevere (she had her own, anyway).

He eased Merlin down, knelt beside him, and wrapped one arm around his servant's shoulders, and just held him while he released all of the pain and frustration and fear and trauma he'd been skirting around for weeks. Arthur felt the hot sting of a tear mark a course down his own face, and he didn't brush it away. He felt, like Merlin was feeling – felt the pain of the torture inflicted on them both, felt the violent sobs shaking Merlin's wiry frame, and finally, felt the tremors ease and stop all together, but he didn't withdraw his arm. He might have even squeezed a little bit tighter, as if assuring himself that his friend was still there, still breathing, despite how hard those bandits had tried to kill him.

Finally, Merlin shifted awkwardly, and Arthur became acutely aware of the fact that his arm was still around the servant's shoulders, and he withdrew with a start, backing away with haste.

Merlin turned to look at him, and his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, the bruises on his neck still visible and angry, and tear tracks streaked down his face. Arthur watched him apprehensively, afraid that Merlin was going to say something emotional that Arthur wouldn't know how to respond to, or worse, openly acknowledge the unusual level of tenderness that had permeated that moment. Instead, Merlin quirked a watery half-smile and simply said, "Thank you."

Relieved, Arthur smiled back. "You're welcome. Feeling better, are we?"

Merlin gave a small, almost timid, nod. "A little bit, actually. I think."

Desperate for some return to normalcy, chest warm with the hope that Merlin really would be okay, someday, Arthur folded his arms across his chest. "Then get your scrawny arse out of my chair."

Merlin actually laughed then, and settled in deeper to the comfortable seat. "Sorry, sire," he said. "I think my scrawny arse is stuck here until further notice."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Merlin blushed. "I… I don't think I can stand right now," he admitted, and Arthur noted with concern that Merlin's knees were indeed trembling. Merlin was trembling.

Arthur rolled his eyes like it was some great inconvenience. "Fine," he said. "Laze about like the useless servant you are. I'll fetch Gaius."

Merlin surged forward at this, almost fell flat on his face. "I don't need –" He broke off as Arthur shoved him back in the seat. "Gaius."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "You were saying?"

Merlin had never looked so much like a sullen, scolded child.

***

When Arthur returned, Gaius not far behind him, he was shocked to find that Merlin was still where the king had left him. Even more surprising was the fact that Merlin held the silk neckerchief that Arthur had gifted him, almost reverently, gazing down at the fabric with a faraway look in his eyes.

"Merlin, where did you get that?" Arthur asked.

"My pocket."

"You've been carrying that around all week?"

Merlin didn't answer, but he didn't need to – it was obvious that he had been.

Arthur heard Gaius shuffle through the door behind him, but did not turn. He kept his eyes on Merlin, who continued to contemplate the scarf like he had never seen anything like it before. "Merlin, you don't have to wear that," Arthur said in a rush. "I just thought–"

"I know," Merlin interrupted, and that's when Arthur knew his servant was on the mend, because a Merlin who lacked all decorum and propriety was far more normal than one who was actually good at being a proper servant. "But, it's nice. And I was thinking, I've never owned anything so fine." He paused. "But I think I'll leave it at home when we go on hunts and patrols from now on." He gazed up at Arthur imploringly.

The king felt Merlin's eyes on his front and Gaius's on his back. He looked Merlin straight in the eyes and said, "You don't have to wear anything you don't want to, Merlin. If you never wear a ridiculous triangle scarf again, that's completely fine. Don't do it because you feel like you have to. You won't hurt my feelings."

Merlin grinned – a full, mischievous smile that Arthur hadn't seen in far too long. "When have I ever given you the impression that I care about protecting your feelings, Sire?"

Arthur tried to look stern, but ended up laughing out loud. "Fair point," he conceded.

He and Gaius watched with bated breath as Merlin tied the new neckerchief very loosely around his neck. A moment of tense silence, then –

"Does this make me look like a prat?"

"Merlin!"

Arthur knew that the ordeal wasn't over just because Merlin had put on the neckerchief. There would still be nightmares and anxiety and days where Merlin couldn't stand to have anything touch his neck. But this was progress. This was hope.

For this one moment, this was Arthur and Merlin, as they had always been, and all was well with the world.

For now, that was more than enough.

[joonsdiary]

the ceo’s keeper

↳ part three of the: (not) the love of my life series

pairing: seokjin x reader (female) genre: arranged marriage au // humour with a dash of fluff and sprinkle of angst  word count: 5,8k

chapter summary: visiting seokjin in his Tower of Terror™ reveals he carries a lot more baggage than you intend to claim.

warning. alcohol consumption, a few curse words here and there; nothing worth putting the mature tag but i’d still advice to proceed with caution. 

note. putting it out there since i don’t think i’ve mentioned it before, but this fic was initially inspired by yuna’s (not) the love of my life. just putting it out there as a song rec in case you’ve not heard it yet!

the proposal | the first date | the ceo’s keeper | the engagement

“Guess who’s in the front cover of Daily Gossip and is trending number one in the search engines?” Taehyung barged into Seokjin's office early Monday morning a few seconds after Mina phoned his arrival. His brother plopped himself in the plush leather chair across his office table, lifting one leg to rest it on top of the other.

Seokjin didn’t have to guess as he often donned the front cover of plenty of tabloids. But not because of anything work-related, which he never really understood. Were his date nights that interesting to many people? Must be, if they were constantly writing about it. He then remembered your quip a few days ago regarding his ‘date’ with the president’s daughter but was quickly reminded that a certain Yoongi had told you about it. The corner of his lips curled downwards. 

“Aren’t I always on the front cover?” he doesn’t even bother to look up as he spoke while continuing to type endlessly on his keyboard. If there was one thing he hated about his job, it would have to be coordinating e-mails. He would usually allocate the task to Mina, but certain emails that contain sensitive information would have to be drafted by him.

“Yes, but, hear this—” Taehyung cleared his throat for effect and shifted in his seat, holding his phone in front of him theatrically, “Seoul’s most eligible bachelor’s newest FLING is somebody you won’t expect!” 

“As I said, it’s nothing new,” he deadpanned.

Taehyung chastised him with a shush before continuing.

“Kim Seokjin’s date du jour – I’m pretty sure they used the word in the wrong context here – is the twenty-four-year-old hotelier – wait, she’s that young?”

“I can’t interrupt you, but you keep stopping yourself for your little commentaries,” Seokjin grumbled as he hit the send button, only partially listening to Taehyung. “And she’s practically the same age as you.” 

“Yes, but an owner, albeit previously, of a hotel? That’s pretty impressive.” 

Seokjin rolled his eyes at Taehyung’s remark, but one of the reasons why he’d agree to this whole masquerade in the first place is due to your reputation. You were a woman of class and grace in spite of your moderate — for a lack of a better term — upbringing. As far as he was concerned, you were respected among the elites; the perfect remedy to clear his name of his tarnished credibility, which he blames solely on the tabloids. Whoever he chooses to go on a date with, no matter how frequently the person changed every week, was no one’s business but his. 

Yet the camera lenses never strayed too far from him wherever he went. It was tedious and stupid because he wasn’t some celebrity who craved attention. Yet he had to make peace with the fact because the board of directors was all about reputation instead of the actual work that Seokjin put into elevating the company.  

“Anyway, back to the gossip,” Taehyung scrolled down further on his screen, “blah, blah – oh! We have a feeling she’s special because unlike his other dates, he brought her to his upscale restaurant, Chateau – You had dinner at Mom’s restaurant? That is certainly news.”

The fact that Taehyung still referred to it as ‘Mom’s restaurant’ brought warmth in Seokjin’s chest. 

“It was a last-minute decision. She said she went on a date at the place you suggested the night before.” 

“That is also news,” Taehyung said, teasing. “Do tell me the details, dear brother.” 

“Apparently it was a move to get under her parent’s skin. It was shortly before she knew of my proposal, obviously. Nothing much to spill.”

“Mhm,” the smirk lingered on Taehyung’s lips, but he pressed on with the article. He quietly read with his eyes for a while before blurting out an expletive, which caused Seokjin to look up momentarily from his screen. 

“What?”

Taehyung sighed as he squinted at his brother, reciting the text verbatim. “But their rendezvous, however, ended early with them parting ways; he headed straight to Kim Hotel after dropping her off. Does this mean the night didn’t go as they’d planned? Will she be another date-and-dash for our handsome CEO-to-be?” 

“Date-and-dash,” Seokjin scoffed before laughing in disbelief. “That might be the best term they’ve come up with so far.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t want everybody to think this is another date-and-dash for you.” 

“I’m only worried about Dad’s opinion. Everybody else can think whatever they want.”   

“They can still hire an outsider as CEO.” 

“Dad wouldn’t let them do that.”

“There’s only so much power he can hold. That’s what the board of directors is for.” 

He paused, letting Taehyung’s words simmer. His brother never bothered much for the corporate side of the business, opting to delve more into his artistic side. He was responsible for much of the interior design of any and every Kim Hotel they decided to build, but that’s about it as far as his contribution went. If Taehyung was content and satisfied with whatever he chose, then so was Seokjin. 

“You’re right,” Seokjin’s lips pursed, hating the admission.

“Aren’t I always?” Taehyung snorts before sighing and putting his phone away. “You’re going to have to put a little bit more pep in your step, as the saying goes, if you want to make this look more sincere than it actually is.”

Seokjin contemplated the implication of the word sincere. He thought he had been as truthful as possible in his interaction with you two nights prior. His conversation with you ebbed seamlessly, save for the second half of the night where you discussed business. It had been the sincerest interaction he had with a woman whom he didn’t have to bed that same night as he normally would. The farthest he’d gone with you so far was a chaste kiss on the forehead, which he deemed you were uncomfortable with. 

“Should I make out with her on our next date, then?” Seokjin quipped. He didn’t mean it seriously, but the delighted look in his brother’s face told him they weren’t on the same page. “I was kidding, V.” 

He threw the nickname out with an ill-intention, knowing how much Taehyung resented it. His brother sighed, slumping on the chair and mussing his curly locks. It baffled Seokjin how one could grow their hair out past their eyebrows, but it seemed to suit Taehyung, nonetheless, fitting with the artistic look he was trying to accomplish.

“It’s something to talk to her about. If she’s comfortable with it, then why the hell not?” Taehyung shrugged, tugging at his turtleneck. 

Would you even be open to the idea? Hell, you’re bound to get married in less than three weeks, but he hadn’t entertained the thought. All the women he’s dated so far knew what to expect of him, and vice versa: sex after dinner. That was the mantra. 

“I don’t know, Taehyung…” he trailed off. 

It’s not that he thought of you as a prude, but his arrangement with you had strictly been business, and Seokjin was the type not to mix the two. He never pried with anything past surface level with the women he had relationships with; he never stayed long enough to know. Or he wasn’t interested enough to stay and get past the tip of the iceberg. 

He no longer wanted to entertain the idea of forever with somebody, and longevity isn’t something he’s interested in. Been there, done that. Not exactly his cup of tea — he’d learned the hard way. Best he moved along.

“Fine, but mild contact is still on the table. You didn’t even hold her hand, according to the article.” 

“I did,” Seokjin said defensively. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure, and that was a problem in and of itself. 

“Tell her, Jin.” 

“I will if it gets you off my back. Now kindly screw off,” he grinned at his inside joke before continuing. “I have a meeting with a contractor in five minutes.” 

“Ouch, since when do you use such harsh words, dear brother?” Taehyung whined, clasping the front of this sweater with his hand. He straightened up, nonetheless, slipping his phone in the pocket of his black slacks. “Jeju?” 

Seokjin nodded, opening another email that needed a return message. 

“Shouldn’t Namjoon be here for that?”

“I already called him this morning. He’s still having way too much fun in Switzerland, but he’ll be back by the end of the week.” 

“Taeri’s probably mad that you’re pulling her husband away from her so early after their wedding.” Taehyung laughed as he shook his head, but Seokjin only grinned.

“It’s been two months. He has to come back. This operation doesn’t run itself; I’ll have you know.” 

Taehyung dismissed him with a passive, “Yeah, yeah.”

There’s a pause, and Seokjin furrowed his brows at his brother’s sudden teasing expression.

“But I still can’t believe he got married before you.” Taehyung pointed an accusing finger at him, and Seokjin laughed.

“I can’t believe it either. He’s certainly way worse than I am.”

“But better at break-ups than you are. You just leave them hanging,” Taehyung squinted his eyes with indignation. Seokjin gives his brother a tight-lipped smile.

“Not entirely true. I technically don’t do the whole dating thing officially. What’s more, I give them—”

“Mr. Kim, your ten-thirty is here,” Mina’s voice crackled through the phone. Seokjin sighed in relief, grateful for once that he was being interrupted with another meeting.  

“I guess that’s my cue,” Taehyung turned, his Gucci loafers dragging him halfway through the office. “Don’t forget to tell Y/N.”

“I won’t. She’s stopping by later.” 

“Oh? I should stick around, then.” 

“We don’t need your constant badgering, thank you very much.” He called out, but Taehyung was already out of his office by then.

                                      *  *  *

You had never been to the Kim Hotel before, there was simply no reason to step foot into one of their many copy-and-paste buildings that dotted the entire country. You joked to Seokjin a few nights ago about the hotel being his tower, but the building was indeed massive, which would make sense seeing that they are billionaires, after all. They wouldn’t have a measly bed-and-breakfast type of hotel like you do. You stood rooted to the ground, squinting up the massive fortress.

(You’d think at some point they’d have to consider the safety of the poor birds that get confused and end up slamming themselves into its reflective windows, but that seemed like a thought for another day.)

Pushing aside all the uneasy feeling that bubbled from your stomach, you collected yourself mentally and pushed through the revolving doors. It was exactly like you thought it was — the pinnacle of contemporary interior design. Everything blended seamlessly, uncluttered and unbearably white it was practically blinding you. Not wanting to be caught ogling the furniture, you made your way to the steel elevators, punching the button to the highest floor. Seokjin didn’t give you any details as to where his office is located, but surely the highest floor of this gargantuan building would belong to him. The doors slid open after what seemed like a lifetime, and you were greeted with a curt voice.

“Do you have an appointment?”

You blinked, unsure of what to say. “I believe so. My name is—”

“Finally! I thought you’d never arrive,” a brunette with an uncharacteristically wavy hair came bumbling out of what you assumed was a boardroom office. His hands were buried in the pocket of his loosely fitted slacks and an easygoing aura surrounded him. His presence was unmistakable, and despite not sharing the same facial features as Seokjin, you could tell who it was.

“Taehyung?”

His eyes lit up when you said his name as his lips formed into an attractive smile. He turned to Seokjin’s secretary.

“Mina, darling,” he said languidly, but the female did not bat her mascaraed eyelashes. “Will you let us in?”

Ah, so this was the lady you spoke with on the phone when you’d initially tried to get a hold of Seokjin. She seemed less terrifying when you met her face to face; her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail and she wore minimal makeup. She looked friendlier than she sounded, why were you afraid of calling, again?

“Mr. Kim is in a meeting right now,” she busied herself with her work while she spoke. “If you’d wait a moment—”

“But Mina, baby,” Taehyung crooned, leaning over her desk perhaps a little too close. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his antics; he’s certainly quite different from how Seokjin acted. Whereas Seokjin kept himself aloof most of the time, Taehyung wore his emotions on his sleeve. Both are still unabashedly forward, nonetheless.

Mina stayed impassive, and you can tell why Seokjin hired her to guard his lair — the woman could not be cracked. You admitted to yourself that if Taehyung were to charm your pants off, you’d be completely hooked.

His efforts were rendered futile, however, when the wooden doors of Seokjin’s office opened and gave way to an ebony-haired woman. She was in the middle of securing her wool coat as her heels echoed with confidence through the marble floors, side-stepping to get around you but not before flashing you a lithe smile. The self-assurance you held before walking into the building had all but withered away.

“Taehyung.” She greeted him, but he only stared at her with an impassive gaze. “It’s nice seeing you around here.”

She headed straight to the elevators and disappeared even before you could blink.

“I didn’t think she’d be here today,” Taehyung mumbled.

“She’s the president’s daughter, right?” you asked, not bothering to remember what her name was. Taehyung nodded.

Strictly business my ass. You didn’t want to care, but your all-too-sudden sour mood said otherwise.

You push past the same wooden doors as the woman had earlier and you find Seokjin propped to his desk, hair slicked back, forehead taut in concentration as he focused on whatever was on his screen. If he’d been doing The Deed, you don’t think he’d look as put together as he currently does. That much was enough for you to relax into his leather chaise. Taehyung followed closely, opting to sit on the couch on the far side of the room.

“Future wife, how are you today?” Seokjin began, and you’re irritated slightly by his refusal to set aside whatever he was doing.

“About as well as one can be while visiting their corporate shark fiancé, Mr. Kim. You?”

Taehyung barked out a laugh from where he sat, and you patted yourself on the back. It’s the little accomplishments, you mused to yourself.

Seokjin’s head snapped at Taehyung and he gave his brother a glare that sliced through the room.

“I told you that you’re not needed here today, Taehyung.”

Taehyung ignored Seokjin, clutching his stomach as he wiped away imaginary tears. “Damn, can I be married to her instead?”

“I don’t like the idea of me being thrown around like a piece of meat for your amusement,” you deadpanned, and Taehyung straightened up quickly.

“I didn’t mean to offend, Sis. I only wanted to rile Jin up for my amusement.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he gave you another million-dollar smile. Seokjin sighed as he stood, buttoning up the blazer of his suit. He picked up a manila envelope that was on the edge of his desk before rounding the table.

“You don’t have to sign today. You can take it home and read it over with a lawyer if you want.” He hands you the files before leaning back into the glass table. You shook your head as you pulled out the documents with confidence. If there had been one thing you learned from your parents, it was how to properly read official documents without glossing over important details. Legal documents often used extensive jargon, and you could easily tell they were drafted by actual lawyers. It gave you a tiny bit of relief that he wasn’t trying to scam you.

Your fingers skimmed your hotel’s name in print, somehow unable to wrap your mind around the fact that you no longer owned it. But the promise was clear in ink under commencement of your divorce: your hotel would be yours.

“Do you need one?” Your head lifted to meet Seokjin’s gaze after minutes of silence. He offered a fountain pen that glinted against the afternoon sun as he moved it closer to you. You felt a wave of emotions suddenly overwhelming you, and you blink up at him before shaking your head.

“Maybe I should look it over with a lawyer, after all,” you mumbled while giving him a timid smile. He nodded in understanding and moved back behind his desk.

“It’s no pressure at all.”

“It’s not that… I just,” you inhaled through your nose and out through your mouth. Between revealing your true feelings or lightening the mood with a banter, you chose the latter. “I just want to make sure you’re not hiding any tricks up your sleeves, Mr. Kim.”

“I’m not one to joke around with things like this, Ms. Hwang,” Seokjin said pointedly, and you frowned. Okay, not the mood I was going for.

“That’s true; he doesn’t. He’s as uptight as they come.” Taehyung quipped, rising from his comfortable spot before plopping beside you. He patted your shoulders, almost apologetically. “You’ll get used to him.”

“I highly doubt that,” you snorted, stuffing the papers back in their envelope. “I have no interest in being the CEO’s keeper.”

Taehyung peeled back from you for another belly laugh, and Seokjin rolled his eyes. “I’m right here, you know.”

Taehyung waved him off dismissively and turned back to you. “I wish we’d met under different circumstances, Y/N.”

There was a wicked gleam in Taehyung’s eyes, but you knew he was being playful rather than having malicious intent.

“Didn’t you say there was something else you wanted to talk about, V?” Seokjin’s voice was seething, which caused Taehyung’s grin to grow wider.

“Right, right,” he shifted in his seat as he whipped out his phone. “I made notes, hold on.”

“What’s this about?” you looked between the brothers with confusion.

“Apparently we did the whole ‘date’ thing wrong.” Seokjin deadpanned, rolling his eyes before he turned back to his work.

“Meaning?”

“One, lack of intimacy,” it was Taehyung who answered, and you blush at his comment. You’re reminded of how Seokjin had pulled you against him the moment you stepped out of the car.

“Going excessive on the first date would’ve made it seem disingenuous,” you pointed out, and Seokjin mumbled in agreement.

“Do you not know how Jin usually is with his former dates?” Taehyung asked, which froze Seokjin mid-type.

“I don’t make the habit of reading gossip blogs and tabloids for celebrities,” you mumbled, hoping they bought into your pretense of being calm. In your head you prayed Taehyung wouldn’t elaborate; the image of Seokjin with other women made you want to hurl your guts out. “I could honestly care less.”

“Right,” Taehyung gave you a slanted gaze, and you shrugged. “Please keep in mind to give a little bit more, next time, then.”

“Will do, Chief,” Seokjin grumbled, massaging his temples with both his hands.

“Second, no going home separately, especially since news of your engagement will hit the public this week.”

You fidgeted in your seat, the air in the room suddenly growing warmer.

“There’s a spare room in the penthouse suite,” Seokjin motioned at a door on the other side of his office with his chin. “The bathroom is always stocked with amenities in case—”

The word in case hung in the air like a thick fog, and Seokjin did not have to finish the sentence for you to figure out what he was trying to get at. The message was clear. But to be quite frank, you couldn’t care less. Right before agreeing to the arrangement, it was clear that Seokjin was that type of man, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that he would bring women to his home, which also happened to be where his office was. Yet, there was an uncomfortable prickle in your heart and your palm unintentionally raised to soothe the phantom pain.

“I’m alright with taking a spare office or something. I’ll work for a few hours then head home past midnight. That should raise enough eyebrows, right?” you hoped neither one of them noticed the slight quiver in your voice.

Taehyung must have sensed it because his voice grew quiet. “Okay, I’m sure you two will work something out. That’s it, for now. I’m going to assume the rest will come naturally.”

You had a feeling he had a longer list but opted to be sensible enough to feel your mood shift. Seokjin didn’t say anything, but the lack of clicking noises coming from his direction told you he’s not working, either. You turned, locking gazes with him, but he remained expressionless which irritated you more than you’d like to admit.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave,” you brushed imaginary lint off your high-waisted slacks as you stood up.

“So soon?” Taehyung pouted, earning a small laugh from you. The nerves were slowly dissipating, and you were glad.

“I have a date,” you paused, gauging Seokjin’s reaction. The scowl on his face made you smirk. “With some classmates from uni. Gotta keep up with the social circle if I want occasional help with my thesis, right?”

While that was true, the dinner isn’t until three hours from now. But you had no plans to stay here a minute longer; the tense air was suffocating you.

“Don’t be a stranger, Sis.” Taehyung engulfed you in a warm hug and you patted his back, chuckling in amusement.

“See you around, Taehyung.” As you pulled away, you gave Seokjin a slanted gaze. “I’ll give the papers back as soon as I can.”

You wobbled slightly as you headed for the door, disappointed that Seokjin didn’t stop you. He didn’t even bid you farewell. You scoffed.

“Have a good afternoon, Ms. Hwang.” Mina greeted you as you made your way to the elevator. You turned back to her with a genuine smile.

“You as well.”

+++

The pulsing beat of the music had your head throbbing with pain, but you didn’t think it’d be wise to complain. Especially because you couldn’t quite look Seokjin in the eyes for reasons completely unknown to you. Or perhaps you did know, you just chose not to dwell on them.

Two days after your productive visit to Seokjin’s Tower of Terror, your calendar graciously reminded you of another date you’ve set up with him. There was supposed to be a lunch date the day prior, but due to unforeseen circumstances (more so on his part rather than yours), you both agreed to have it cancelled. He apologized, but you dismissed him and said that you forgot that your mother had asked you to visit her and your father, anyways.

(In reality, she hadn’t and was delighted you called to say you were bringing them take-outs for lunch.)

“Wednesday nights are busier than I thought,” Seokjin mused, pulling you out of your mini daydream. You looked up, which proved to be a mistake because the club’s lights flickered in a way that accentuated his features; his straight nose that’s angled between his ever-so-prominent cheekbones. His fringe was down that evening — a sight that you have not yet witnessed. It made him seem younger than his actual age; more laidback, less prim and proper. In any other given scenario, this would not disarm you, but the occasional spark of colour highlighted how close his face was from yours.

In other words, you really ought to get used to being in close proximity to him if you were to continue this ordeal.

“It’s always full of people, no matter the day.”

Seokjin’s brows furrowed as his head dipped, inching his ears closer. You knew you’d flinch away if his arm wasn’t draped around your shoulders. “What was that?”

“I said it doesn’t matter what day it is — it’s always full here,” his scent made you feel more inebriated than the alcohol you held. You found it surprising that Kim Seokjin is not much into the club scene, thinking that people like him often spend half their time wasting away

He whipped his head to meet your gaze once more, a grin forming on his lips. “Of course, you’d know.”

There was something in the tone of his voice that made you want to defend yourself. “I have a social life too, Mr. Kim.”

“I never said you didn’t. But you’re more of a designated driver type rather than the drunk, party all night type of gal. Am I right?”

Your eye twitched in annoyance. Was he really stereotyping you now?

“You don’t know the half of it, Kim Seokjin,” you mutter, unsure whether he heard you or not. But you didn’t care, and instead proceeded to finish your margarita in one chug. You set down on the glass table in front of you before peeling yourself off of him and the velvet sofa. The desire to prove you weren’t prude — despite him not saying it outright — felt greater than your sense of logic and reasoning.

You wobbled slightly as all the blood in your system rushed to your brain. But you managed to steady yourself as you turned back to Seokjin. He watched you with interest, but his lips remained sealed in a grin.

“I do like being the designated driver at times. No shame in keeping my friends safe. Am I right?” you pushed Seokjin’s shoulder with one finger until his back hit the plush sofa. There was no turning back, you realized, when your leather skirt hitched higher as you placed your knees one after the other, effectively trapping him between your thighs. Alcohol was definitely coursing through your veins as you sat on his lap.

It never occurred to you that you’d be so brazen in front of Kim Seokjin. But here you were with your cheeks flushed and heart hammering wildly against your chest, wanting so desperately to prove that his expectations of you were wrong.

“But I can also have fun without being shit-faced.” The less you think about it, the better it was for you not to get embarrassed. So, you ignore his smug, seemingly unfazed expression as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You were convinced you’ve only got one functioning brain cell left. But if Taehyung were present to judge, you knew he would gag with approval.

“Is that so?” Seokjin played along, and you weren’t entirely shocked; the man was probably used to such endeavours on a nightly basis before your arrangement. He placed his palm against the small of your back, and instead of pulling away, you leaned closer. Being this promiscuous in private was nothing new for you, but never when you knew there were several eyes trained on you like a hawk.

“Shall we give them something to write about, fiancé?” your eyes trailed down to his lips before meeting his gaze once more. You knew he wouldn’t oppose, but you still needed his consent. He nodded with a glint of amusement in his eyes and the next thing you knew, your lips were in his. He was firm and unwavering, slightly aggressive but he damn well knew what he was doing. It felt as if he'd set your body on fire with one singular moment.

You broke away first, eyes seeing but unfocused as you heaved a sigh, lungs welcoming the sweet taste of oxygen. Seokjin chuckled as he studied you with newfound interest, surprisingly well put together compared to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Mhm,” you peeled back from him, pulling your leather skirt down in the process. “That’s probably enough to placate the onlookers.”

You looked around, but the dim lights made it hard to see beyond a few meters. Seokjin followed your actions, and you feel the familiar warmth emanating from him once more. His arm was draped around you once more, but the gesture felt natural this time around. The mere smile he gave you was enough to send butterflies drifting in your stomach. You wouldn’t dare to admit it out loud, but at least you wouldn’t have to pretend to be attracted to him.

                                      *  *  *

“Birthday?” 

“Couldn’t you have just googled this? I’m sure I have a Wikipedia page.” Seokjin said, quite peeved that you didn’t know his birthday yet, when he’d memorized yours: May 24, 1996. You gave him a deadpan look and he sighed defeatedly. “December 4.”

“Year?” 

“Seriously?” 

You said nothing, opting to dip a fry in your Oreo-flavoured ice cream instead. He wasn’t surprised when you asked to ditch the club to eat, citing that you’d puke your guts out if you didn’t get any food in your system. He didn’t think you meant McDonald’s at midnight. 

“1992.” 

“Was that so hard?” you mumbled, typing the information on your phone. “Your birthday is coming up soon.” 

“If by soon you mean two months from now, then yes.” 

“Technically, it’s the seventh today, so it’s less than two months,” you pointed out but didn’t wait for him to return the conversation. “Favourite colour?”

“Are you writing a slam book? Would you like to know who my celebrity crush is, as well?” he rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, actually. Let me guess; is it Florence Pugh? Ana de Armas? Brad Pitt? Or someone local…Jun Jihyun?” you mused. He only shook his head at your antics, convinced that you were not fully sober yet. “I’m kidding. I’m just filling out your contact information.” 

You slid your phone across the table, which landed perfectly in front of him. True to your words, most of the information was filled out: Rapunzel donned the first name, and nothing was filled out for the last name option. He chuckled but didn’t bother changing it to his actual name and proceeded to input his number. 

“That was smooth, Y/n, I must admit. You couldn’t have just asked for it straight up?” 

You shrugged. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

He handed your phone back, and moments later, his phone buzzed in his jean pockets. He opened the message — no doubt it had been from you. 

𝗂 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 “𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾” ;)

Seokjin simply shook his head; it felt unfamiliar for him to be smiling so much he could feel his cheeks go numb. If he knew how amusing it would be to go on a fake-real-date with you, he would’ve asked his father to set him up with you.

Wait, what?

He turned two strides back, retrieving the steps he made. Certainly, you couldn’t have grown on him so quickly — but in reality, it felt like that for a while now, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He thought the whole ordeal with you would be cumbersome, but it’s been quite the opposite so far. He commended your tenacity to go along with any plans he’s laid out, so far.

That’s because you’re holding her hotel hostage.

To be quite frank, it would’ve been none of his business if he decided not to meddle with his father’s whims. But he’d honestly rather be divorced and have his father lash out at him than be stuck in some arrangement he didn’t want. While it’s true that he could divorce you, either way, the key was the illusion of being in love. As Taehyung kindly pointed out to him: How devastating would it be that you both fell out of love, that they won’t consider rescinding the CEO position once you have it?

The stories would circulate around the heartbreak, instead of the bluff that was his arranged marriage for the sake of saving face. 

Although now that he was sitting across from you as he watched you relentlessly dip your fried potatoes in your ice cream for the umpteenth time, the prospect of being married to you no longer felt as daunting. Especially if you were willing to make out with him on occasion as you had earlier. It wasn’t part of the contract, but he was willing to add the extra clause if you’d agree. 

“What do you have that creepy grin for, Mr. Kim Seokjin?” 

“I’m thinking of taking you home with me tonight, Ms. Hwang.” Seokjin’s satisfaction was evident in his smirk when he saw your eyes widen. He swore he saw you go through five emotions in the span of a mere second. 

“Stop teasing. It’s not funny.” 

He watched your already blushed cheeks turn a shade deeper as he chuckled. “I’m not teasing. Taehyung’s rules, remember?” 

“Oh, right,” you blinked at him blankly. “I forgot to bring my laptop with me so I can have something to work with.”

“You were serious about occupying an office space?” he gawked, brows knitted. 

“I was. I’m not sleeping over in your Mistress Suite.” You said in a monotone voice, but the indignation in your eyes told Seokjin you were more than serious — you were offended. At least he could tell that much.

“That name has a nice ring to it. Do you mind if I start calling it that, instead of just the guest room?” The pointed look you gave him made him think you were less than amused with his banter. Seokjin sighed and stood up, motioning for you to follow. “Don’t worry, no one has stayed there for two weeks.”

“I really didn’t need to know,” you grumbled. Seokjin reached out for you to take his hand. 

“I’m sure you didn’t. But I’d still like to let you know that I wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize this arrangement.” 

That was part of the truth. The other part came in the form of his animosity towards infidelity. Seokjin genuinely hoped you didn’t think he would cheat on you during the span of your agreement. He had issues committing, yes, but he couldn’t begin to imagine inflicting such pain on another person. Not when he’s had firsthand experience on the subject.

It reassured him that there was an end to your charade, a point where he can say checkmate and the game would be over. Commitment still has to be made, for sure, but nothing that would leave him like an empty husk of his former self afterwards. No monsters under the bed, no skeletons in the closet, either.

You slid off the booth but did not take his outstretched hand, so he casually stuffed in his pocket. You were setting your limits, and he had to respect that. Perhaps the silly extra clause he thought of will not be a necessity, after all.

NEXT ;

thanks for reading this chapter. feedback is always appreciated! ♡

[tuff-and-fluff-archives]

Okay I am hyperfixating HARD on Tom and Jerry and all my emotions from childhood have FLOODED forth, so now that I’ve finished watching (almost) all 161 original theatrical Tom and Jerry shorts from 1940 to 1967, I would like to force you all to endure my insane ramblings about this franchise. Although before I begin, I’d like to share where I’ve been watching all these! Here’s a Dailymotion playlist of all 161 shorts, put into the correct order by yours truly :3 OKAY NOW THE INSANITY BEGINS 💖💖💖

1) The Messy Formative Years: Shorts 001-017 (1940-1944)

So obviously, when a series is first created, especially an animated series, the first few episodes will always be a bit odd as the directors and writers find their footing and establish the rules of their own universe, and Tom and Jerry is no exception! In fact, these episodes can be a bit weird and even jarring to watch because the designs of the titular characters are so drastically different from how they look even ten years afterwards. In fact, in the very first episode, they don’t even have their official names yet and are instead named “Jasper and Jinx.” Also, there’s a LOT of talking in these beginning shorts before they decided to make Tom and Jerry almost entirely mute. Shorts 010 and 013 stand out the most, as they feature characters regularly speaking full sentences and it’s just... ohhh it’s SO weird to watch and it feels almost wrong 😅 Of course that’s not to say these shorts are bad, far from it actually! They’re still super fun and fascinating to watch and I think it’s quite interesting to see how such an iconic franchise got its start!

2) The Golden Years: Shorts 018-097 (1945-1955)

Oh. My. GOD. THESE ARE THE ABSOLUTE BEST. I guarantee that when you just think about Tom and Jerry, THESE are the shorts that come to mind. By now William Hanna & Joseph Barbara fully had their formula down and were just pumping out hit after hit afTER HIT HHHHH I LOVE THESE SO MUCH. I’m not kidding when I say that these shorts still make me laugh really hard and I absolutely adore nearly every aspect of them: the fluid and extremely expressive animation, the excellently timed music paired with each short, and the humor that’s constant and lands almost every time. My absolute favorite ones are around 040-080 but really all of these are just sooooo good. I know that this is stating the obvious but one thing that I especially love is just how VIOLENT these cartoons are, even more than the Looney Tunes shorts that were coming out at the same time. Characters are constantly picking up knives or axes or straight up GUNS and ngl I feel like half of the humor comes from that shock factor of the insane absurdity of that violence. Okay I’m starting to sound rly dumb, I know explaining the joke is never fun, but the directing and animation just NAILS every joke; I think the secret behind it is that there’s always a buildup and anticipation before the impact, and that buildup just makes the impact all the more intense! I was going to list my top 5 favorites but it’s impossible to choose so lemme just recommend a random five out of all of them: 026 - Solid Serenade, 048 - Saturday Evening Puss, 067 - Triplet Trouble, 069 - Fit to Be Tied, and 076 - That’s My Pup!

Also, I don’t know where else to mention this so I’ll just say it here: there’s a gradual change that Tom’s design goes through where he’s slowly drawn to be less and less fuzzy. At first his outline was drawn with a lot of points to emphasize his fur, but over time they abandoned doing that, my guess is because it was harder to animate. I’d say that they fully transitioned to Smooth Tom around short 030. That’s just a little detail I noticed and wanted to share! ^-^

3) The Slow Decay: Shorts 098-114 (1956-1958)

*heavy sigh* Well... a good thing can’t last forever. What’s kinda strange is that I can’t really nail down a specific reason caused a decline in quality after 1955; short 096 was the last to be produced by Fred Quimby, with Hanna & Barbara being given the producer credit as well as director credit for the remaining 18 shorts, and MGM animation studios had major budget cuts in the late 50′s and was shut down in 1957, and perhaps the studio shutting down had also taken the joy out of the crew, which would certainly have an effect on the cartoons. Now that doesn’t mean that these last 16 shorts are bad- they’re still quite entertaining, but they just don’t have the same energy as the shorts made in the Golden Years. They’re also nowhere near as cartoonishly violent as the past shorts had been; weapons are almost never used anymore and there are barely any efforts from Tom and Jerry to straight up kill each other, and more often than not they’re working together and even acting like close friends. I think that’s pretty fair evidence that even if these later shorts were much tamer and friendlier, that meant that they were lacking the same chaotic energy that made the other shorts so hilarious. 

Also I just need to vent this here cuz this era also contains the two most absolutely infuriating shorts in the Hanna-Barbera era, that being 100 - Busy Buddies and 114 - Tot Watchers. These two shorts consist of Tom and Jerry attempting to stop a baby from accidentally dying cuz it’s just a dumb baby that doesn’t know anything, while the babysitter is just totally ignorant to everything happening. Now I can’t quite explain why and I’m probably just making myself look like an asshole but these shorts are just... so frustrating to me??? Like its bad enough that this stupid baby whose face NEVER changes from that stupid little smile just keeps wandering into dangerous situations (in Tot Watchers it straight up crawls into a CONSTRUCTION ZONE) but every time Tom rescues the little bastard and puts it back in its crib, the babysitter thinks he’s “bothering” the baby (probably because of that one myth about cats laying on babies and stealing their breath) and so poor Tom is just punished for doing literally nothing wrong!! It’s just... very frustrating to me for some reason I’m sorry... (Although I have to admit that it is interesting and kinda cute that Tom knows how to change a diaper, like wif the safety pins and everything. Why does he know that...?)

4) The Gene Deitch Shit Shorts: 115-127 (1961-1962)

OOOH BOY. I don’t think... that I can really describe how purely and utterly I dislike the Deitch shorts. Okay so, to explain, in 1961 MGM decided they wanted to revive the Tom and Jerry franchise, so they contracted an animation studio based in Czechoslovakia to create 13 new original shorts. All of these shorts were directed by Gene Deitch, who before being commissioned for these cartoons, was open about his disdain for the original Hanna-Barbera shorts that he described as “needlessly violent.” After he was assigned to the series, he did come around to somewhat realize that the violence was intended to be overly cartoonish and humorous, but his initial opinion still had an influence on his directing decisions. In addition to these facts, the foreign team behind this series had only collectively seen a handful of the original cartoons, and each short was given a budget of only $10,000, compared to the $50,000 that the Hanna-Barbera shorts had all been given.

SO. To recap, these 13 new shorts were being made by a foreign team who had barely seen any of the source material, directed by a man who had disliked the original cartoons, and being made on 1/5 of the budget that the Hanna-Barbera shorts were given. Needless to say, the end results were a DISASTER. I’m not kidding when I say that watching these shorts feels almost like a fever dream with how completely baffling and surreal they are. I honestly don’t think they could be any more different from the original series; the music and sound effects are extremely minimalist and usually completely absent, the animation is so jerky and totally lacking the fluidity of the originals, and the character design is also drastically different and, in my opinion, kinda ugly too. These are universally considered to be the worst of the theatrical shorts, and Deitch himself has even stated that he and his team “hardly had a chance to succeed” and he fully understands the negativity directed towards the shorts he directed. I have to confess that when I rewatched all the theatrical shorts, I only got through two of these before outright skipping the rest of them. These 13 shorts are a complete disgrace to the majesty of the Hanna-Barbera series, and while I don’t hold anything against the people behind them, I can’t lie when I say that I hate these shorts. 

5) The Chuck Jones Era: 128-161 (1963-1967)

I have an odd love-hate relationship with these shorts. I don’t think I need to explain to you the legacy of the great Chuck Jones, the creator of Marvin the Martian, Pepe Le Pew, and the Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote whose name is nearly synonymous with the Looney Tunes cartoons of the 30′s, 40′s, and 50′s. He’s an absolute legend in the animation industry, and yet... the Tom and Jerry shorts that he directed are still significantly weaker than the original series. Let me start with the things I like though! The slight changes in the character design to match Chuck Jones’ signature style are super appealing (I especially like how at times, Tom will almost resemble Jones’ design for the Grinch) and the animation is of course very well done and a joy to watch, but despite these positives, the humor is sadly lacking. There are still quite a few jokes that land, but they’re more restrained and just don’t have the same high-energy oomph! of the impactful gunshot sound effects and violent screams of the original cartoon. I’ll always have an appreciation for this era of shorts and the man behind them, but they sadly didn’t even come halfway close to the Hanna-Barbera series.

WELL. ANYWAY, THAT’S MY RANT!!! Thanks for reading this far, all two people that did. It just felt good to get this outta my system! 💖💖

[simsadventures]

After All: Chapter 4: Whatever

Summary: The next day comes and you built the walls around yourself higher than ever. Warnings: angst, tears, sad reader, fluffy Bruce, Bucky (I feel like he is a warning now), mentions of physical abuse

Word Count: 1959

A/N: What do you guys think, should the reader forgive him at some point, or do we want to see a different romance sparking? Let me know, love you all. xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter 

You woke up with the biggest headache you’ve had since high school. Your whole body hurt, and for a second you thought you were abducted and now held prisoner. However, you soon realised that the nightmare you had was no dream at all, but your real-life and that your head hurt probably from the extensive crying you did last night, and your body was stiff from falling asleep in your bathroom.

You needed good 5 minutes to get up, your limbs not listening to your orders at all. When you managed to stand on your own, with just a slight help from the sink, you dared to look in the mirror. And you almost screamed from the shock you received. The reflection in the mirror looked like a completely different person. She wasn’t you. This was a broken person, her make up smudged across her whole face, eyes still red and puffy, but otherwise the shade of the skin was almost greenish. You shouldn’t even be surprised. Nobody was suited to cry as much as you did last night.

Just the thought of what you overheard the night before almost sent you hurdling again, but you stopped yourself. You weren’t about to let them destroy you. Nope. You were stronger than that. You made the mistake of trusting people again, and you were damn sure you wouldn’t ever do it again.

You clenched your tears, tear up the dress that bitch picked for you only to be able to laugh about it behind closed doors with her precious Bucky. You cleaned your face, took a long hot shower, trying to wash away all the sadness left in you. You knew it would take time to get over this, because after a lifetime, you opened up to someone, only to let them rip you open and laugh about the shattered pieces.

But you weren’t willing to let them win. You would bet that they wanted to crumble in front of them, but not if you could help it. Your decision was quick and final. You would just ignore them. You weren’t the type of person to call people out, and even if you wished nothing more than to see them suffer as much as you did, you decided against it.

Karma would bite them both in their asses, you were sure of that.

You texted Tony that you drank a little too much and wasn’t feeling like working on the project today, which he completely understood because he apparently flew around in his Iron Man suit and was showing everyone how many backflips he could do until he threw up in the mask. You were just sorry you weren’t there to see this.

You also exchanged few texts with Bruce who was still baffled why you left so suddenly last night, but you had no energy to explain everything to him. Bucky was his friend, he was part of the team, and you weren’t. You didn’t need people telling you that you destroyed the Avengers by telling Bruce the truth. Not now, anyway.

At the same time, you couldn’t be entirely sure if he wasn’t in it with them. Your mind was screaming at you that Bruce wouldn’t be able to do such a thing to anyone. Still, the same mind was telling you just yesterday that Bucky was definitely into you. You had your reasons not to trust your own judgement right now.

You took a nap in your bed, to relieve your mind from the spiralling, even if only for a few hours.

It was around 6 PM that you heard a familiar light knock on your door. Your heart stopped in that very moment, and you had a lot to do not to vomit again. You pulled yourself together and went to open the door.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky smirked at you, leaning against the door frame. “You ran away last night, I thought you could take more.”

You huffed sardonically, and smirked at him, venom driving from your eyes. “Felt tired, you needed anything or?”

He looked at you, little surprised at your reaction. You were never this direct or unfriendly to him. “Well, it’s our movie night, so I cam here for the movie, you remember?”

Oh right, you even had a weekly movie night, because you thought you both liked spending time in each other’s company. “Not in the mood, Barnes. Goodnight, and greet Hannah for me, will you?” You smiled all too sweetly and closed the door in Bucky’s shocked expression.

“Hannah? Doll, I don’t even talk to Hannah, you know that.”

You didn’t even have the energy to fight with him, so you just laughed dryly and yelled back through the closed door, “whatever, Bucky, whatever.” He didn’t leave right after that, still tried talking to you, but after about 10 minutes, you got tired of his bullshit, telling you to open the door, that he doesn’t understand what’s gotten into you, and blah blah blah. You put on your earphones and watched John Wick without him. You didn’t need him. Hell, you didn’t need anyone.

You didn’t know how long it took for him to leave your door, but you were glad that by the time the movie ended, there was silence outside the door. Hannah sent you multiple messages, to none of which you have replied. She even texted you she was worried about you and you scoffed out loud. Worried my ass, you thought.

Next day came much sooner than you wished to, and it meant you had to go out of your room and face the world. Worst of all, you had an appointment with Bucky, to try some models of his soon-to-be new arm. You didn’t want to be that close to him, but there was no other way to deal with it. You needed to learn to share the same space with him and totally ignore him. That could become your life mission if need be.

You had a polite small talk with one of your colleagues, but not his too extensive or too detailed. She just told you about Tony and his drunk self and how her head hurt even today. You just nodded and smiled lightly, not willing to share anything.

About an hour later, the door opened, and Bucky came marching to you. “What the hell, doll? I was knocking on your door last night and you-“

You stopped him with a raised hand. “I wasn’t in the mood, and I’m not in the mood now. I have Dr Cho here to help me with your current arm, to make it as painless for you as possible, and so that we could safely try your new model. Can we start?” Your face was void of any emotion. You could see Bucky searching your face, trying to find a hint, anything that would tell him why the sudden change in your behaviour.

“Doll, I-“ he started again, but you weren’t having it. “Can we start now, Bucky?” you raised your voice a little so that he got the message you weren’t willing to talk about anything else that your job. He just nodded wordlessly and let you and Dr Cho do your job.

He was watching you intently the whole time, speaking up only when asked, and you made a little victory dance in your head. Maybe he’d actually stop talking to you, and your ignoring him wouldn’t be that difficult. This happiness, however, didn’t last long, because as soon as you were done, and sent him on his way, he grasped your upper arm, and whisper yelled at you, “mind if we talk, Y/N?”

You just clenched your teeth and nodded, you really didn’t need to cause a scene at work. You weren’t about to let him destroy the one thing that actually made you happy and feel like you could be yourself. When obviously, being yourself wasn’t enough for him, nor for Hannah.

“Care to explain why have you been acting so weird since the party?” He was seething, and all you could do was laugh. He really wanted YOU to explain yourself to HIM, hilarious.

“Look, we can stop pretending now, Bucky. Go your own way, I’ll go mine and the only place we will see each other will be here, and we’ll keep it strictly professional, ok?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? How can you go from us being that close to strictly professional, huh? What happened? Did someone tell you something? Because if so, I’m 99% sure they’re lying.”

Now you had to laugh out loud. “Oh, don’t worry, nobody told me anything. I didn’t want to do this, because I couldn’t care less right now but ok. Let’s do this. What the fuck am I talking about? I don’t know, Bucky, let’s ask your girlfriend Hannah, what the hell I’m all about.”

“I told you, I don’t even-“

“At least have the fucking decency and don’t lie to my fucking face, Barnes. I saw and heard everything, ok? I mean, why would someone like YOU be interested in someone like ME. I’m just a hideous lab rat, and you wouldn’t be caught dead actually seen with me.”

You were seething, venom dripping from your mouth. Bucky was staring back at you, horrified. “Doll, I-“

“Please, don’t. I got it, ok? She’s gorgeous, I’m not, I know that much, I’m not stupid. I just thought you could see past that, from how much time we spent together. I told you everything, Bucky, my secrets, my fears, all of it. I hope you two had a good laugh at all that, how a desperate, ugly girl fears someone will notice she’s just not enough. That must have made you snicker for days, huh? Or the fact that my own father beat the shit out of me when I was younger must have been a hilarious topic after you fucked her!”

You didn’t want to resort to violence, but your hand itched to slap him across his face.

“Look, Y/N, I would never-“

“I don’t care, Bucky, I really don’t. I hope you had a good time making the ugly girl feel worse about herself than she did in a long time. I’m not gonna be the entertainment for you and Hannah anymore, I was stupid enough to think that for once in my life, I would be important to someone, that just this once, I was the lucky one.

But it’s ok, I got this, just like I always had. So go, and enjoy your miserable life, because you can’t be happy if you’re able to do something like this to an innocent bystander. Just please, whatever your sick games, or foreplays, or whatever this is, are, stop it. I’m an actual real-life person, with genuine feelings, I’m not sure the two of you realise. I’m going to be ok without you, but some other girl might not, so please, end this, and find some other thing to rile each other up.

Have a good life, Barnes, I really wish for you to wake up one day, and try and redeem yourself, because you might be a hero out there, in the world, but here? You are just one rotten, sad guy, who doesn’t have a bit of respect for himself or anyone around you. Goodbye.”

Few tears slipped by now, but you didn’t care. You were proud of yourself for telling him all that, turned on your heel and went back to the lab.

Bucky was left in a hallway, staring at the door, through which you left, suddenly realising how big of a mistake he just did. And he wasn’t sure if there was any going back.

/ Next Chapter >

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[starkrogerrs]

Keep your body all on me [part 2]

part 1 // also on ao3

a/n: i promise part 3 is all smut (updating next thursday) so keep an eye out! let me know your thoughts on this part? all the love <3

Accepting Steve's offer was probably the best decision that Tony had made in recent times.

Servicing him was a definite upgrade from some of the creeps that he encountered at the Strip club. It wasn't even servicing, it was as if Tony almost was in a relationship with Steve.

Almost.

The first week had been the usual stripping and dancing that he did for his customers, at the end of which, Steve, true to his word, rewarded him handsomely. Steve loved the way he moved, swayed to the most crass songs but Tony enjoyed putting on a show for him. It was honestly liberating.

Steve praised him relentlessly, not empty words but actual heartfelt compliments. Obviously they were meant to encourage him but Tony flushed everytime Steve called him beautiful and gorgeous and baby in his deep but soft voice.

Saying Steve was filthy rich was an understatement. Thanks to him, Tony didn't need to go to the club anymore and he could finally pay off his pending rent.

The terms of the contract were simple, Tony would be Steve's sugar baby. He wasn't to see anyone else except for Steve, but had ever liberty to refuse, if whatever Steve asked of him, didn't feel right. Tony was fine with that, his love life had no momentum anyway.

However, by the time three weeks had passed, their arrangement had turned into something else completely.  Tony visited Steve every night, and Steve would fall asleep in his lap or against him as they talked about everything and nothing; got to know each other better. He found himself spending more time at Steve's beautiful mansion than his own home.

Sure, Tony still danced and entertained him at times but there was more cuddling involved. It was as if Steve liked his touch, but Tony knew it was just Steve's nature to be kind and gentle. Tony was, after all, doing him a favor of sorts.

During this Tony often wondered if he should be doing any of this. It didn't exactly feel right but it didn't feel wrong either. Steve was so gentlemanly, Tony could hardly complain. And he'd be shy to admit it, but he actually liked being spoiled by Steve. A fancy suit here, a new laptop there, coupled with handwritten notes made Tony think he was living some fairy tale. Because he surely had the most beautiful Prince Charming there ever was.

Steve asked a lot about Tony's life and shared a few tidbits of his own. Steve was a self-made man and it only made him all the more attractive. It was only a stroke of luck that Tony had chanced upon him.

And then, during the fourth week Steve had kissed him. They had made out in Steve's car, while returning from a trip to the local mall where Steve had promised to buy Tony every thing he wanted.

Tony had no idea what to do after that. They had kissed. They spent so much time together, and Steve was obviously attracted to him. But he'd never asked for more, never told him if they'd like to make this official. Tony was baffled, to say the least, but he couldn't find the courage to talk to Steve and risk their arrangement.

He liked Steve too much to let all of this go. Liked the way Steve's lingering touches set him on fire, liked the way that Steve looked at him, liked the way his kisses and numerous hickies pushed him over the edge.

It was almost too perfect to let go.

"Hey there, sweetheart," Tony purrs, as Steve falls on top of him, snuggling into the crook of Tony's neck and wedging one leg between his own. Steve sucks at the skin there, grazing his teeth against the sensitive area.

"Rough day at work?" Tony asks, breath hitching, and Steve hums in response. His hands trail down Tony's arms, before finally coming to rest on his hips.

"Don't wanna talk about it though," Steve murmurs low, biting and nipping at Tony's skin.

"Did you like my present?"

"I am wearing it right now," Tony says, biting his lip, heart starting to thump inside his chest. Steve draws his head back at that, staring at him as his pupils dilate.

The look sends a shiver down Tony's spine.

"Can I see?" Steve asks ever so softly, but his voice is thick and deep.

Tony nods coyly, a blush creeping up his cheeks. Steve lifts himself off of Tony, but just enough so that he is now hovering above him.

Tony stares directly into his eyes as he lifts his hips and slowly shimmies his pants down his legs. He kicks them off the bed and lays still; his lower half exposed, save for his privates that are covered by the red, silk thong that Steve gifted to him. His heart thumps wildly against his chest, as Steve looks him over, gulping hard.

"You're so gorgeous," Steve breathes, as he sinks to Tony's feet and places a kiss to his ankles. He moves upwards slowly, kissing every inch of skin he can reach and Tony feels like he's floating.

Steve kisses the insides of his thighs, murmuring another compliment and Tony feels himself go red all over. At this point he doesn't know who's doing who a favor.

Steve pushes Tony's t-shirt up his chest, leaving him almost bare, and Tony lets out a tiny whimper.

Steve reaches up to kiss him then, a smile tugging at his lips. "God, I love the sounds you make," he whispers, breath fanning Tony's face.

Tony feels something hot spike inside his belly, a realisation of how bad he wants Steve.

Steve presses their lips together, before turning on his back and pulling Tony on top of him. Tony lifts his shirt over his head, just as Steve sits up so that Tony's now straddling him.

Tony brings Steve in for a kiss again, gripping the back of his head and weaving his fingers through Steve's hair.

He moans as Steve grabs his exposed butt, palming the cheeks and pulling Tony closer to his core.

"Move for me, baby," Steve says and Tony starts moving his hips on command, raking his fingernails down Steve's gorgeous front and leaving red lines in his wake.

Steve moans as Tony grinds, now fully hard from being so exposed he might as well not be wearing the thong. But he is and Steve is still in his pajamas and hell, Tony wants so much more of their skin between them.

Their breaths are getting heavier by the second, as Steve rolls his hips with Tony's, both savoring the friction of their clothed shafts.

Tony moans as Steve latches onto his neck, sucking hard and making him see the brightest of stars. He can feel his heart thump against Steve's, as they move against each other and the exhilaration of it all makes him almost giddy.

Tony wants Steve so bad. He tugs at his hair, pulling him closer, wanting to feel those lips take him whole. He wants Steve's fingers that are splayed on his ass- inside him, until all Tony can see is pitch blackness. He wants to wear Steve's hoodie when he fucks him, wants to hold his hand and watch the fireworks in July. He wants to dance for Steve until he's out of breath, wants Steve to be his and his only.

He wants more, so much more; he wants all of it but he can't fucking have it and-

"Stop," he says, abruptly pushing off of Steve and falling onto the bed. He pulls his knees to his chin and begins to rock.

Steve looks shocked; and in spite of the puzzled expression on his face, his hair a mess, lips shiny and pink and eyes still dark, he looks so fucking sexy.

"What's wrong?" he asks softly, hastily reaching for Tony's hand. He yanks it away.

"What isn't?!" he mutters, feeling an overwhelming urge to cry but bites back the tears.

"What did I do wrong?!"

"You just storm into my life with your stupid proposition and gorgeous face and gentle smile and - and - make me feel all special when I'm just a stupid stripper you found - and- " Tony can hardly breathe, as the words rush out. He can feel the orgasm that had been building curl away from his core, and cold sadness replace it.

"What are we even supposed to be? You treat me like I'm.. all you've ever wanted but you're paying me for all this and I have all of these feelings inside me 'cause y-you're fucking perfect and it's driving me fucking insane!"

Tony doesn't understand why everything inside him is bursting suddenly, but his brain is racing faster than his heart. It's as if the barrier that's been holding in the tide finally breaks.

Steve blinks at him, trying to process the dump of information, before reaching to grab his hand. Tony lets him this time. "If you didn't want this, you could've said so long ago. I wouldn't have forced you-"

"That's not it, you- you- I fucking want this. All of this but- fuck, my head hurts."

Steve squeezes his hand in earnest. He looks so lost, and Tony can tell it's genuine concern that he hears in his voice.

"What do you want? Just tell me," he says gently and the answer is on the tip of Tony's tongue already.

It has been for a while.

"You. I want you."

[damienthepious]

INTERNALLY I AM SCREAMING EXTERNALLY I AM ALSO SCREAMING,,, BUT LET’S HAVE SOME BOUQUET WHILE I SCREAM INTO A PILLOW.

Even With Missteps (chapter 3)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ao3] [ch 4] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien, Lord Arum/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, (other characters mentioned)

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Dancing, Costume Parties & Masquerades

Summary:  There is a masquerade ball in the Citadel tonight. Every knight and citizen has turned out, and all of them bear disguises of monstrosity. What better time could there be, for a monster who needs to find a way inside?

Chapter Summary We are attempting to be fair. There is still at least one dance that is owed.

Chapter Notes: i'm so fucking gay y'all. can i mention again this was supposed to just be a one shot? how LONG is this now? oh my god. anyway now there HAS to be a fourth chapter, because i completely changed how this chapter was supposed to end and things have gone entirely off the rails again. this is a mess. hit me up on tumblr if you wanna know how this was SUPPOSED to end. also please go listen to the new episode i'm DYING.

~

Arum descends, his mind still roiling and disbelieving, and his claws click lightly on the stone when he reaches the balcony level again, but there is no one close enough by to hear, or to see. No sharp-eyed attendees attend his presence, this time.

As such… Arum indulges one more moment. He glances towards the window above, and through the darkness and the curtains he can see nothing in truth. He imagines shadows in the room, at least. Imagines the shape of his honeysuckle, awkwardly explaining his absence to a colleague, explaining that he had, of course, found nothing of interest in the Queen’s chambers.

... Arum still does not understand.

Many things, if he is being honest with himself, as he so rarely is. He does not understand Sir Damien, does not understand this sharp-fanged little basilisk with his lilting voice and his gentle eyes, his sharp arrows and his bright laugh. He does not understand why a knight would ever, ever suffer a monster to live. Not under any circumstances, let alone such ridiculous ones as these.

Humans. Baffling creatures… though, not quite in the way Arum expected them to be. He turns his attention towards a sharp noise back inside, looking through the sheer curtains into the party, and he watches a pair of human hatchlings - children, he thinks - laughing uncontrollably beneath their chickenfeather-harpy costumes as they swing each other's hands back and forth. Arum shakes his head quickly, turning away, and then he gives the window above one more glance.

Arum does not understand his own reactions, either. The knight failed to perform his duty- but Arum has done much the same. The knight should be dead.

Two dances, and Arum is made a fool. He scoffs at himself, digging the claws of his hidden lower hands into his midsection to try to suppress the way his stomach jumps in discomfort, and… he is still staring at the window above. He does not have time for this. He does not. He should already be on his way home in the understanding that this evening has been a failure, or better yet he should be looking for some way to salvage this, some other alternative focus he can select for his prototype. There is no cause for him to waste time in musing, he can worry over his own stupidity in the Keep, when he is safe-

“Hey there, stranger.”

Arum whirls on the voice, realizing quite a bit too late that there is a human closer than is comfortable. He manages, by a fraction, not to hiss instinctively. His cover may not be completely intact anymore, but that is no reason to toss it out while it may still serve him.

The human is small, though not as small as his basilisk- as Sir Damien, rather. Her mask is brassy, with a sharp pointed beak over her nose, beneath which she is grinning at Arum in a way that would put him instantly on edge, were he not already tense to begin with.

She is also, decidedly, in the way of his current escape route, back through the party.

“Er- greetings,” Arum awkwardly grates out, and the human’s grin, if anything, tilts wider. “If you will pardon-”

“Nah, I don’t think I’ll pardon. Care for a dance?”

Arum stares down at her, wondering if the sheer force of his confusion and irritation are properly conveyed through his mask. “No.”

She raises an eyebrow, shimmering red and gold dusting her dark skin in stylized flaming streaks. “No?”

“I am leaving, I do not have-”

“It’s Arum, right?”

Arum flinches, then freezes, and he is glad, at least, that the human cannot see his panicked face.

“Excuse me?” he barks. “Who- how-”

“You’re the one who stole a dance from my partner earlier tonight,” she says slyly, coming closer while he stands stock-still.

“You-” Arum swallows uncomfortably, glancing again towards the window above for a moment, but he still cannot see anyone looking down towards the balcony. “You are attached to h- Sir Damien, then?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” She shrugs. “So what I figure is, you technically stole a dance that should have been mine, right?”

“I- I don’t have time for-”

“So you owe me a dance, then.”

“What?”

She grins, the sharp white curve of her teeth intersected by the triangle of her mask’s beak, and she edges even closer, and despite Arum’s instincts he knows he cannot back away or else it will show too much weakness in front of this little creature. He cannot obey the traitorous instincts urging him to lean into her mammal heat, either. Obviously.

“I said you owe me a dance, Arum, and you look like you’re about to bolt out of here, so I know I gotta take what’s owed to me now or I might not get another chance.” Her smile shifts a little less predatory, a little more warm instead of hot, and she lifts her hand towards him in request. “Just one dance. One dance won’t kill you, will it?”

Arum does not look back up towards the window above, does not look over the human’s shoulder to see if any knights are coming their way, and thinks that perhaps, just maybe, it might kill him. There is something undeniable in her eyes, though. Something in the certainty of her posture and her smile. And-

Dancing with Damien had been… not unpleasant. It stands to reason that if this little creature is his usual partner, it is likely that she will be similarly skilled, will she not? And Arum may have already settled his debts, so to speak, with Damien, but this human cannot possibly know that, and- and Arum still needs to cross the room again, to make his escape. None would expect a thief to return to cavorting and revelry after he was nearly found out, would they?

He has waited too long in the consideration. The human leans just slightly closer, and one of her hands reaches, brushing her gloved fingers (still impossibly hot, a phoenix she is dressed as and she has equal fire, certainly-) against his own, and without thinking he spreads his fingers, allowing her to take his hand properly.

Well. The decision is made, though he is still not convinced that he is the one who made it.

Arum steps closer, breath leaving him in a sigh, and her eyes go bright and delighted above the curve of her beak.

“I suppose… if the fairness matters so much, if settling the score is so very important to you, little phoenix-”

Her other hand moves to the correct place upon him, but then slips a past that, just skirting the edge of propriety as she slots herself a little too close, very much too warm. Must all these creatures run hearth-hot?

“I’m not, really. Concerned with the fairness, I mean,” she says with a wicked little grin as they begin to sway together. “It is a really good excuse, though.”

Arum-

Laughs. A helpless little breath of it escapes between his teeth, and apparently that encourages her because her grin grows wider.

Arum's estimations of her dancing prowess were correct, in a way. She is not unpleasant to dance with, as Damien was not, but her style is markedly different. Damien dances with a certain elegance, a feeling of controlled grace. This little phoenix is skilled, but there is more joy here than elegance by a wide gulf. She knows precisely what she is doing, but she clearly intends to enjoy every step, regardless of propriety or decorum. An admirable attitude, so far as Arum is concerned.

"You are unconcerned with your former partner as well, then?" Arum asks, because it seems like something a human would care about. The little phoenix gives her own laugh, tossing her head back to do so, and the unselfconsciousness of the gesture makes Arum's frill shiver with the desire to flare beneath the constriction of his mask.

"I'm almost always concerned about Damien in one way or the other," she says with a shrug that shifts her skin against Arum's palm. "But considering that he's run off from a party to do work - again - I don't think he'll mind too much if I find someone else to entertain me for a little while."

"I am not entertainment," Arum grumbles, but his footwork does not falter with the complaint, and the way her eyes glint as she smirks up at him makes the claim feel rather flimsy.

"Besides," she continues, entirely ignoring his protest, "it'd be pretty hypocritical for him to complain about it, don't you think?"

"I- I suppose-"

"He knows how to pick a partner, though," she says, and there is no small degree of smugness in her tone as she guides their steps in a gentle sort of circle around the wide balcony. "You're kind of a natural at this."

"O-oh," Arum says. While they dance, he cannot exactly look away from her, cannot distract himself from the warmth of her body or her words. "Oh. Th-thank you." He pauses, attempting for a long moment to focus more on his surroundings, and then he processes the words the human spoke aside from her compliment. "Though- though, I picked him, not the other way around."

"Hm," she says. "Out of curiosity, why did you pick him, anyway? It's a big sort of party, lots of folks to choose from…"

"He-" Arum stutters, but there do not appear to be any further words ready to rise to his tongue.

You are the only monster here who has interested me in the least. Those were the words he whispered into Sir Damien's ear when first he gathered the knight into his arms, and- and Arum, at the time, had assumed himself a liar. He is unsure, now, if he had been, but that memory-

Elegant little basilisk with longing in his eyes, still amidst a sea of movement, drawing Arum's eyes as bright as the rising sun-

"He has… an air about him," Arum settles on, his voice stilted and soft, and the little phoenix give a much more gentle smile, then.

"He really does, doesn't he?" She sighs then, and when she glances back up at him from beneath her mask her expression is wry. "Alright, okay, I should stop teasing. It's not like I can blame you for being charmed- or for being charming."

Arum barks a laugh, too surprised to do anything else. "Charming-"

"You were gonna leave before I interrupted, right? Let me dance you across the ballroom, at least. Then you can just take off, if you'd like."

Arum blinks down at her, utterly baffled. "Are all-" he pauses, "people from this Citadel like the pair of you?" Arum asks incredulously, tilting his head as he looks down at the creature in his arms.

"Like what?"

Arum opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again quickly.

Compelling, he had nearly hissed. Enthralling. Fascinating and clever and warm and draped with a deceptive air of comfort, despite the fact that Arum knows that an ounce more of carelessness with either of these creatures would spell certain death.

She stares at him as he flounders. He snaps his teeth together again reflexively, then grasps for other words.

"Humans of the Northern Wilds have a reputation for- for a lack of hospitality. You and your basilisk have quite decidedly failed to live up to that reputation."

She looks delighted by this claim, her hands flexing against him in a way Arum attempts to ignore. "Hm, well, I can't say that reputation isn't absolutely well earned," she says, almost viciously. "Honestly I'm kind of surprised that you managed to get through to Damien, he can be a little intense at first."

Arum laughs again. "Intense," he echoes. "Yes… well, he was certainly that, though I do not think he was inhospitable." He pauses again, and he remembers the calmness of Damien's eyes, even over his raised bow, and the delicacy of the smile he gave when he lowered it at last, and let Arum take his hands again. "Despite the fact that, perhaps, I deserved a degree of inhospitality."

She laughs brightly, and Arum's mouth curls into an unbidden smile beneath his mask, and then she shakes her head and her hands upon him squeeze very slightly. A little warning, he realizes, before she shifts her footing and their trajectory, and then she begins to back away with him, leading him off of the balcony and back towards the rest of the party inside. "C'mon, stranger," she says warmly. "One more dance, and then you'll be free to escape all this ballroom drama. Saints know I wish I could join you- this is all a bit too formal for me to sink my teeth into."

"It has been… less tedious than I anticipated," Arum admits, rather than considering what this creature would prefer to do with her teeth.

"Yeah," she says, playful again, "it seems like you've managed to enjoy yourself, huh?"

Arum huffs, but he bites down on his retort so he may instead focus on maintaining his steps now that he needs to worry about other surrounding humans again. The ballroom is so much warmer than the balcony air, though his phoenix is hotter still in his arms, and the combination of heat seems to blur his vision at the edges.

"If you thought it was gonna be so awful," she says, "why come? If you were worried about our reputation around here, you must come from pretty far off."

"I-" Arum hesitates, considers his possible lies, but the sharpness of her eyes upon him makes him suspect he will have better odds with the truth. Or- part of it, at the very least. "A rather frustrating obligation," he settles on, after a moment. "A job in the city I must complete before I may return home and care for my-" he cuts himself off, digging for a way to explain that a human would understand. "To care for my family, as I am meant to."

"Attending the masquerade is part of your job?" she asks, her eyebrow raising, and Arum sighs because the absurdity of the situation is very much not lost on him.

"Unfortunately, yes. Or-" he pauses, then breathes a light, dizzy laugh as he and the little human spin in a tight circle. "Perhaps… perhaps the obligation has proven itself to be not entirely unfortunate."

She smiles again, and Arum's stomach jumps with a sensation like both pleasure and panic. He swallows uncomfortably, and when she moves with pointed confidence he acquiesces, spinning her out and then pulling her back against his chest.

They are already near to the other side of the ballroom again, the crowd thinning around them as they approach the exit, but Arum still feels as if he is sinking into the warmth of the air, the warmth of his thick cape and those confident hands-

Her hands- not only are they so shockingly warm upon him, but they will not stay still. He is distracted, trying to keep his mind on his steps while her touch and her sly smirk pull his attention elsewhere, and he does not realize quite quickly enough where she is touching until he feels her fingers, curling around the back of his neck. Her touch runs down his spine, brushing the bony ridge at the base of his neck, and he can’t quite suppress the way that makes him shiver and hiss.

Her lips part, her eyebrow raising again as her head tilts in a thoughtful sort of way, and Arum’s feet stumble to a halt.

They both attempt the first syllables of words at the same time, then, hers a baffled question and his a sharp deflection, but they are both interrupted.

"Rilla!"

The little phoenix turns, just slightly, not pulling away from Arum's grasp upon her. She's smiling again, even, as she watches Sir Damien half-leap down the stairs from near the Queen's dais, bolting through the crowd towards the exit, towards them.

"Hm," she says, her eyes sparking with distinct amusement as Arum attempts (and fails) not to feel panic welling again, without the lance of strange pleasure this time. "I didn't think he'd actually get jealous, not after we-"

"Unhand my Amaryllis- unhand my fiancée, villain!"

Arum would do precisely as Sir Damien commands, if his limbs did not feel as immobile as a copse of dead trees. Damien's clarion-call voice draws the attention of nearly the entire ballroom, citizen and soldier alike. It looks, from Arum's horrified vantage, as if every single human face, however disguised, now turns towards Arum and his current partner, who is evidently named Amaryllis. Even the music has slackened, the instruments pattering off into pathetic whining before they cease entirely.

Arum's thoughts wind down in a similar fashion, to a blank nothing that almost screams.

It seems our time has run out before our dance is finished, he thinks again as Damien swims through the stilled dancers, an echo of a lament. Amaryllis pulls slightly towards Damien as he draws close. She pulls against Arum's stiff arms, and he-

There is a moment. He considers the possibility.

He is well within leaping distance to the doors, to the exit, and there is little chance the knight would aim his bow at his own partner, if Arum simply- grabbed her and did not let go when he leapt.

But Amaryllis glances back towards him when she feels how wooden his grip has gone, glancing up at his face with- sympathy of all things as she squeezes one of his hands, and Arum feels like a monster, in the most human of possible senses. He feels like a beast for even considering it.

He forces his grip on the little phoenix to slacken, and he takes a half step back.

Amaryllis gives him one last look of confusion and concern before she slips entirely out of his grasp, moving to place herself between Arum and the knight, her hands raised, placating.

"It was just a dance, Damien, I didn't think that you'd-"

"You," Damien hisses, not pushing past Amaryllis but certainly not hearing her as he glares at Arum. "You-" he snarls, and his hands twitch against his bow, the muscles of his arms tensing, and Arum-

Arum stares at the knight, stands perfectly still, completely stiff, and he is utterly certain that he is about to die.

"I asked him to dance, Damien, not the other way around. Just-"

"With this beast," Damien snarls, and Arum's heart clenches almost painfully, although the citizenry staring at the three of them do not seem to recognize Damien's words as only honest, rather than hyperbolic.

Arum could still attempt to leap, to escape, but without a hostage he is far less certain that he will not be shot in the spine. If he is going to die, he would rather face it directly. He would rather see the arrow as it comes.

Damien clenches his teeth, his tawny eyes gone ferocious and sharp, and it is only Amaryllis' hands upon his wrists that prevent him from lifting the bow in that precise moment.

"How dare you?" Damien's hands shake under Amaryllis' palms. "After- after I- monster-"

"Honeysuckle-"

Damien blanches at the word, at Arum's voice, so very quiet beneath the din of concerned murmurs at the knight's back. Damien hesitates, only for a moment, the fury in his eyes softened with confusion, and Arum forces himself to continue.

"I-" Arum pauses, inhales sharply, tries again. "I was enjoying… playing the monster too much, I think." He pauses again, inhales more slowly, ignores the tightness in his throat. "F-forgive me."

Arum drops his eyes, then, but no arrow comes and the pause draws long enough to be worrying in and of itself. Arum hazards a glance up at Sir Damien again, and he-

The conflict is so clear upon him as to be nearly palpable. Arum thinks that perhaps he would be able to taste it, if the copper of his mask were not stifling his tongue.

Damien still grips his bow in one hand, but the other he lifts, his fingers brushing almost absently over his own lips before he seems to realize what he is doing, and then he presses his palm over his mouth entirely. Amaryllis frowns hard when Damien glances towards her, and then when the poet shoots another look towards Arum, the monster only stands, and waits, and does not allow himself to hope.

"You-" Damien cuts himself off, clenching his jaw hard, his brow furrowing in obvious distress, and then Arum can see the precise moment the poet decides his course of action. The wild determination that bleeds across his features is precisely as blatant as his former conflict. "You have slighted me this night, my fellow beast," Damien says, and his voice is loud and clear again, though Arum can clearly make out the falsity overlaying it now. Amaryllis can quite obviously sense his performance, too, and the bafflement in her expression makes for a good companion to Arum's own stunned shock. "My Rilla's honor must be defended!"

Arum blinks, and the murmurs behind the knight take on a tittering, conspiratorial quality. "A-ah-"

"I demand you duel me!"

"Damien," Amaryllis attempts to interrupt, her tone entirely incredulous, but Damien grips her wrist and shakes his head sharply.

"For my Rilla's honor!"

Damien's tone is insistent, his expression pointed and firm, his eyes framed between the fangs of his mask and still so… compelling. He is prompting, and Arum must push past his shock if he wants to- to take the hand that Sir Damien is offering.

"If- if that is what must be done to put this conflict to rights… so be it."

"It is," Damien snarls. "Obviously, we must- discuss the terms of this duel privately. Let us take the matter outside," he says, his voice managing to be both pointed and toneless, and then nearly as an afterthought he adds, "you cur," and it is all that Arum can do to bury his urge to snort a laugh.

The fact that he feels near-hysterical with the sheer absurdity of this entire evening certainly does not help with that urge, either.

Arum pauses as if considering, flicks his tongue without meaning to beneath his mask (the scent of copper stuffs his snout), and then he nods. "If you… insist."

"I do," Damien says with clear relish, and then he gestures towards the door. "Outside. Now."

Arum stares at Sir Damien for another wondering moment as his frown deepens, as his eyes widen and his gesturing hand flutters in the air again, and then Arum nods, and turns, and retreats, with his basilisk and his phoenix following in his wake.

[otomechuchu]

Piofiore - some information/rant *WARNING SPOILER ALERT*

Before I start, I am fully aware that this will rub some people the wrong way but this is my opinion. And before you start telling me that my opinion is wrong because you love the game, I should be allowed to not like the game. I’m tired of having to defend myself for not liking a game other people love. 

I won't go into heavy spoilers (like what happens in detail), but there will obviously be spoilers + a few CGs. This is just a big rant from me, because I really can’t try to act neutral in this case, it’s my opinions.

Want to support the blog? Feel free to Become a Patron for as little as $1/month~ Or Buy me a coffee ~

SPOILER WARNING

WARNING

SPOILER ALERT

Still here? 

OK so obviously women, especially poor or orphaned, weren't treated the best during the early 1900's but the game is full of abuse. There are tons of game overs' in every route where the love interest kills MC (but apparently not bad enough to be labeled bad end). Assault, human trafficking etc as well. They try to sell (or does sell) MC as a s*x slave several times. I mean it's a mafia game so it's obviously not flowers and rainbows and unicorns, but come on. They added fantasy elements in addition to somewhat historical accuracy, so why did they have to pick the horrible treatment of women? Of all the things, this is a game aimed at female players! None of the love interests are likable really. The romance is pretty low too. The guys are horrible in every route but maybe slightly sweet in their own. The guy with more romance basically forces MC to either be his whore or be gang r*ped by his men.... Which actually happens in one of the bad ends...

All the guys are also yandere or have yandere traits. You could argue that they are just normal behaviour to survive in the mafia, since the violence is consistent and they’re doing it as second nature, not because of love. But in true Otomate & otome fashion, there are yandere ends where the guy locks the MC up and keeps her all to himself because that’s what true love is! However the real issue isn’t the violence and the love interests, it’s the fact that this is an otome game but the romance is more of a second thought. Also they are love interests, you’re supposed to like them, but the game deliberately gives you all the reasons, over and over again, to dislike them. A lot. 

So the first guy you pick will seem slightly nice and all the others horrible, which is great when you’re going to pick the next. And then in that route the guy might seem slightly nice too, but all the others, including the one you had done before, will be horrible. So not only are the others still bad or even worse, but the guy you just did and might have liked a little, is now ruined. And this will be the case for all the other routes. Great. I know officially there’s only 1 bad end, 1 normal end, and 1 good end per guy, and the others’ are just game overs. However, I will refer to them as bad ends anyway because that’s what they are, really. So yes, like most Otomate (or otome in general) games, the bad ends are mainly MC being killed, and a few cases where the love interest is killed. But there are also some r*pe ends and yandere ends done to both MC and her friend. Wonderful… 

For some reason, this game got lots of great ratings on Amazon. On JP Amazon. If you don’t mind all the abuse towards MC and other females, and like yandere guys, then you’ll probably love the game. It’s not my cup of tea, not in the slightest. The MC just takes all the abuse and doesn't care. I know she's supposed to be naïve and sheltered, having grown up in a church. But seriously? Even Cardia in Code Realize isn't this dumb. Cardia was all alone for years in her creepy mansion, spending most of her time sleeping, and she turned out pretty good. She questioned things and didn't make stupid decisions just for plot. This MC however doesn't question anything, takes all the crap, doesn't fight back, and makes dumb decisions. Before you say “but people say the MC is badass and can stand up for herself”, no. Do you mean that ONE scene at the end of the very last route where she says that she never wanted to be part of the stupid mafia war, and it leads to the love interest kidnapping her going all yandere siscon on her? Or is it this one Extra scene where the love interest tries to get her drunk but ends up getting drunk instead because her magical otome heroine powers prevents any MC from ever getting drunk? Yes, those two tiny random scenes is what decides her personality, not the entire game where she’s constantly abducted, abused, and in danger. Right? Suuuure...

What baffles me isn't the game, but that they decided to localize this one. Among all the titles, they picked this. And there is a bigger selection on Switch now, it's not just a handful. Taisho Alice or the Norn9 fandisc would make more sense! (both are released on Switch). Some other games that would make more sense, that either are or are coming to Switch:

Reine des Fleurs

SenBura

Nil Admirari no Tenbin

Clock Zero

Brothers Conflict

I know Brothers Conflict would be "controversial" but it has an anime that I know people liked, and it knows it's stupid. It knows it's stupid fun, so it goes the comedic route anyway (not saying I want those games, just saying they would make more sense than Piofiore).

Lastly, I thought I wasn't going to rant about it, but I can't not mention this: the maybe worst love interest isn't the Italian guys, it's the one Chinese guy. Like really, I know there wasn't any meaning behind it against Chinese, but they could have picked any nationality really.... I guess it’s because they wanted to add the opium thing, which is a very sore spot for me personally (and many other Chinese people). He uses people for entertainment when he's bored and tortures (well they all torture when "necessary", but with him it's detailed). There's this scene where they describe in detail how he cuts off this guy's ear and waterboarding. And several CGs of him covered in blood, that I hate to admit looks good because the art is beautiful....

SPOILER END

That’s all for my rant. Sorry guys! 

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July 7 2019

[kuronekonerochan]

Very messy thoughts about a very messy kdrama: Melting Me Softly

Overall:

I loved the premise...it looked like the kind of ridiculous over the top kdrama that could make for an interesting entertaining watch...unfortunately it is just badly executed. It doesn't know what it wants to be. The action syfy part is confusing, there is no emotional weigh over the tragedy of losing 20 years of life on the part of the Male Lead, although we feel it with the FL(who, by the way, is the only good part of the drama as far as acting goes, despite having little to work with), and even the jokes don't land because the supposed funny side characters are either too annoying and terrible people or they are too pathetic and I pity them instead of finding any of it funny (like the scenes with his family).

Melting me softly is a mess. Honestly with only just how all over the place the pilot was most ppl would have drop it then, but ji chang wook is soooo pretty and it's his comeback after military, still.... lord, is the drama bad. 

The syfy element is a mess, the characters are all shallow and unlikable in the few scenes we had with them so far (except the FL who seems nice enough but hasn't had that much to do yet).

The Characters:

 JCW is surprisingly unlikable for me and it's not even that he's the cliche jerk. Surprisingly it’s even worse because he’s just boring as a character. He’s not nice, but he doesn’t go out of his way to be cruel so that he can be redeemable later.

Nope, he’s just arrogant and entitled and he interacts with everyone mostly by casting judgmental side eye and being kind of uninterested in anyone else. Not in a charming megalo centric  way (like the Lead from What’s Wrong With Secretary Kim, who was a good person despite his ego), but in a dismissive everyday style that makes him all the more unlikable. What’s worse is that it’s even more evident with his family, who are problematic and a bit clingly and “golddigging/leaching” but still they seem to like each other enough in their own weird way. The lead though, treats his family coldly, like a disgusted spectator and it’s hard to watch. There is no chemistry between him and the rest of the cast because the character treats everyone like they’re not worthy of his respect.

That scene where the leads meet and she’s upset over losing 20 years of her life? -  I automatically went: *eyeroll Ugh, Men... It's not all about you everytime. You convinced her, effed up her life, own it and stop making excuses! The right thing to do is apologize and shut the f up!

The side characters, as I said are all either pathetic or terrible people, with the exception of the female lead’s family, who seem to be in a different, better acted drama. The shift in tone is jarring.

The Plot:

The plot is a complete mess and the main conflict so far is stupid. His producing team (that ended up convincing his gf) decided to hush things up in the past because outrage, audience ratings, yada yada and that's it! Yet it’s super confusing bc it seems like they are hiding what they did from him and scheming behind his back, while at the same time it's obvious he knows they threw him under the bus back them, so where’s the conflict? Also it's petty and the real villains involved with the cryoproject and the attack on the scientist are still just a vague concept that the drama clearly wont go into anytime soon, so it all seems like filler. 

To top it all, last episode's cliffhanger is about their previous romantic interests (who are now in their 40s) reconnecting when one of them is married and the other cover up the ML's disappearance, so it's all just more annoying filler I have no interest in watching...

The production design/ technical aspects:

The technical aspects are also bad, especially the editing...scenes are chopped off and put together and seem cut short or pointless. Time is also weird, they mix office scenes with home scenes from ML and random FL scenes without parallels and it's impossible to make out when the days start and end. It's been a while since I saw such messy execution from the production. Usually it's stuff like plot or characters or acting that bothers me, at most camera work, but here it really is the production as a whole. 

What I meant by parallels is that when you are starting to tell a narrative with two leads from their separate povs before they are onscreen together, there's usually an editing order:

Both leads wake up, both leads wander away. Ok so far. Both leads reconnect with family. Scene of FL at home with family followed by scene with ML with family. New day starts. Day 1: looking for answers: contacting the police, talking to the last ppl involved in the experience, etc. Sequencial scenes showing how each go about finding answers in their own way (the method helps to start establishing character and  personality differences between the leads). ML does that, but for some reason the FL doesn't?  (Maybe here a nightime scene each with the family to further develop feelings/angst and exposition of changes in family dinamics and events that happened while they were gone.) Next is trying to get back the life they left behind. Again, sequencial scenes of his workplace and in this case her university.

And with that we get the feeling a few days have passed and they went around on their parallel journeys. But here it's all jumbled and mashed together. He keeps talking to the people from his network in random chopped talks where it feels like he doesn't ask everything logically just so the drama can have another different scene with them later, he is home, his family is a mess but that isn't even edited in contrast to the scenes of her family for juxtaposition...and he seems to have more scenes than her and hers fall randomly out of nowhere and without logic. After being discharged from the hospital and talking to her family, why wouldn't her first reaction be trying to find him and ask what the hell happened? Instead she goes around, even returns to college before going to him?  The drama and the leads seem to walk around in circles without purpose. The transitions are also lowsy...usually all the driving in kdramas is too much but here it is lacking. The ML jumping around from the hospital, to the network, to the (most baffling) secret patient room where the scientist is without us knowing how he got there is distracting. Besides, those small driving scenes are important for character interaction and development: either with phone calls that allow us to see a more intimate side of the characters, how he takes things when nobody is watching, or with another person in the car communicating, or even just silent rides with body language and expression giving us a glimpse of their state of mind....  without any of this, by just appearing in places and doing things, the characters seem shallow and incomplete.

Minor complaints: 

They made the choice to make the 2nd Female lead kind of bitchy, greedy and backstabbing by having her agree to the cover up and her decision of not telling him immediately  what she had done now and apologize (when her younger self seemed much sweeter than that). I feel like the drama has barely begun and they already did her dirty by choosing to go that way with her character after her introduction on the pilot. Also, typecast of the actress playing her older self... she always plays a bitch (she's very good at it but I wanted to see her on a softer role). I wouldn’t mind  if this were a noona romance, since so far the leads have zero chemistry together. To be fair, there wasn’t any with the 2nd female lead, or JCW and any other character in a non romatic way either, in fact, except for the kid niece who actually seems to get a genuine reaction out of him.

 Plus we know from K2 that JCW and noonas have better chemistry ;)

At least I wish they had given her a better arc, for example, the girlfriend who was left behind, because of how it went down, never got over her love for him. They could have a romantic interest for her who she met after the lead was frozen, and the two had become very close over the years but she couldn't move on... they could give her closure so she'd finally realize in her heart how she felt about her own romantic interest without it being clouded with guilt and unresolved feelings for the lead. 

@kdramaxoxo

[becausetherearestars]

Sit Down, Lucy Dear

Chapter Ten of Lord Thanatos here

~

Hadrian stiffened as he sensed his mate walking into the room. His hands tightened around the waist of the girl on his lap. The scent of both his donor and mate in the same room was driving the young Vampire crazy, especially since his mate had not yet been claimed and was surrounded by potential threats.

“Luna this is going to be harder than I thought.” He ran his nose along the line of her neck, breathing in her scent, salivating at the steady beat of her pulse under his touch. An impulsive decision and a quick wave of his hand put a privacy ward around the pair, blocking them out from the rest of the Peverell Manor sitting room.

“You know, my Lord, you could just tell him.” His little moon bared her throat more, drawing a soft growl from Hadrian.

“I will not force this kind of connection on him Luna, you know that,” he said as his fangs dragged along her skin. “He will come to me when he wants me.”

“Of course he will, my Lord.” She gasped as his long fangs pierced her skin. Blood, hot and sweet rushed into Hadrian’s mouth as he sucked  at his donor’s pulse. He pulled away after a few mouthfuls, delirious look on his face as he licked the wound closed, pulled down his wards and leaned back in his chair.

Across the room, his beautiful blonde mate looked at the pair with unmasked jealousy written across his face. Hadrian knew he wouldn’t have to wait long before either he or Draco snapped.

~

Severus was waiting in the Peverell Manor sitting room, surrounded by students he had never even pretended to like, his Lord and two of the least annoying Death Eaters.

Severus was tired.

It had been a very long two days and he had this terrible feeling that whatever Hadrian Peverell had decided to do to wreak havoc on the world would, at some point, involve Severus cleaning up Peverell’s mess or saving his stupid hide. Again.

Severus was, however, dedicated to the Dark and the Dark Lord’s goals. And if his Lord believed that Hadrian Peverell would be instrumental in achieving those goals, Severus would do as he was told. It was what he was best at, after all.

And if Albus Dumbledore came away from this with barely a scrap of his current power and social standing, Severus would be an extremely contented man.

Sitting next to Severus on a large bronze and blue couch was one of the only people Severus would think to call friend, Lucius Malfoy. Severus was intimately acquainted with the less than stellar aspects of Lucius’ personality and therefore was not remotely surprised when the blonde man stood up suddenly and pointed an accusing finger at Hadrian Peverell. An extremely stupid thing to do in Severus’ eyes, considering said Vampire was currently in the presence of his Donor and his inner circle. Threatening Vampires in front of what they considered theirs was, generally, just a horrible idea if you wished to keep your blood inside your veins.

“I need some explanations,” Lucius said bluntly and Severus wondered, not for the first time, how this man made it into Slytherin. He could see Draco a few chairs over thinking something similar and felt a surge of pride for his godson. He was much more sensible than his father.

Peverell, who had been in a deep discussion with Barty Crouch Jr., of all people, while he wasn’t not-so-secretly draining the blood out of Lovegood, turned from the younger Death Eater and raised a hand to quell Crouch’s snarl in Lucius’ direction. “Yes, Lucy dear, what can I explain for you?”

The Malfoy Lord’s face flared at the nickname and Severus was amused to note the Dark Lord snorting into his whiskey glass, clearly enjoying the entertainment. Even though the Dark Lord was back to being as sane as he was when Severus pledged his loyalty, if not saner, the Dark Lord still enjoyed the humiliation of his followers every now and then. Or maybe it was just Lucius.

“You!” Lucius spluttered out and Severus could see Draco’s face getting increasingly more mortified. His father was about to make a fool of himself. “How did you do this?” he gestured wildly around the room, “Do you really expect me to believe you have been deceiving us all this time?”

Severus thought that, yes, Peverell had most likely been deceiving them all this time and that he, along with the entire wizarding world, had severely underestimated the wrath of an intelligent and powerful young man. Severus was glad to be on Peverell’s good side and was not going to be doing anything, any time soon to change that position. No matter how much he hated the boy’s father.

“Well Lucy,” Peverell drawled, a hint of a growl lacing his voice. “As I have proven to you already, you don’t know me.” The arm wrapped protectively around the Lovegood girl tightened and Peverell’s eyes flicked briefly to Draco.

“As far as I can see, the likelihood of me deceiving you of all people, and getting away with it, is considerably more likely than your ego is able to admit. So, I will ignore this rude outburst and kindly ask you to return to your seat before you see what threatening me in the presence of those that are mine will do to you.”

Severus noticed the young Vampire’s eyes flick to Draco yet again and a sense of dread worked its way into his stomach. He had a feeling Peverell knew exactly who his mate was and was going to be especially irritable until that bond was claimed. Lucius was sure to be on the receiving end of a lot of Vampire ire when Draco was around if he continued to deny Peverell’s authority.

Lucius sat back stiffly on the couch and glared at the young Vampire, shrinking back slightly when a growl rippled through the air. Severus did not fail to notice the slight blush that appeared on Draco’s cheeks at the show of dominance the Vampire displayed and knew there was already nothing he could do to stop his godson from eventually bonding with, possibly, the most powerful creature in the world. At least he couldn’t aim any higher.

“Perhaps, Hadrian, we should explain a little more before poor Lucius here loses his head?” the Dark Lord said, unsuccessfully hiding his smirk behind his whiskey glass once again. Lucius shrunk further back into the couch as he remembered the Dark Lord was present in the room for his outburst. Severus wanted to pity his friend, but couldn’t deny that Lucius got himself into these situations all on his own.

“Are all those things people talk about true?” Draco asked. “Like did you really stab a Basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor?” Severus was admittedly quite excited to find out what the Golden Boy had actually got up to during his years at Hogwarts. People worshiped the ground he walked on and, despite the proof sitting in front of him that Hadrian Peverell was nothing short of brilliant genetically, Severus wanted to know what more Dumbledore had been hiding from him concerning the boy.

“Well,” Peverell started, “there was the Philosopher’s stone in first year. Dumbledore had it all planned out to trap Tom and test me at the same time, but he obviously didn’t count on me having a mind of my own.”

“I managed to make a cheap replica of the stone, steal the real one and get a vow of non-combatants from old grumpy-face here all before Christmas. The test at the end of the year was all for show and I’m honestly still baffled that the man was so completely fooled by an eleven year old and a clinically insane wraith. He really is getting old.”

Looks of approval were shared through the room. “You made a Philosopher’s stone that was convincing enough to fool Dumbledore?” Severus said, looking at Peverell like he had never seen him before, and in truth he probably hadn’t. He had realised in the past two days that the Harry Potter Dumbledore had essentially described for the world was nothing like the young man in front of him.

“Well yeah, but it never would have worked as one.”

Severus didn’t even want to think about the dismissive tone Peverell used when saying that. This boy always managed to give him a headache, secret prodigy or not.

“Second year was all Lucius really, wasn’t it Tom?” Hadrian said. Eyes full of mischief as the Malfoy Lord paled considerably and shrunk even further into the couch. Severus decided that he needed to have a chat with Narcissa. They needed to keep a closer eye on the blonde prat before he got himself killed.

“Indeed,” Tom said, “he should be exceedingly grateful that you and I were working together already because that year could have ended very painfully for him.” Lucius glanced at Peverell with, what was probably a pleading look, and Peverell couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes, well, I had a wonderful time conversing with your diary my dear and, even though I had to deal with the major temper tantrum at the end of the year, I have to say it’s one of the most engaging conversations I’ve had with you.”

Gasps came from both Malfoys and Severus who were shocked beyond belief that someone would dare talk to their Lord in that manner. Barty just smothered an amused snort, slightly more used to the way the two Lords interacted, but never willing to incur either of their wraths.

Severus noted that Peverell’s followers were gazing at the Vampire with awe in their eyes. There was no doubt that the boy had them completely in his pocket and he wondered if this was what it was like when the Dark Lord himself was at school. What a terrifying thought indeed.

“I never did kill the basilisk, Draco, but I did find the sword of Gryffindor while I was down in the Chamber.” Peverell said gazing intently at Severus’ godson with a look in his eye that confirmed his earlier suspicions. He was going to have to look out for anyone that would become a threat to the blonde boy, lest he have to deal with a potentially homicidal and extremely protective Vampire. “I’ll show them both to you one day, if you like?”

Draco nodded emphatically and Severus sent up a prayer to whatever gods were listening that the world would survive Hadrian Peverell and Draco Malfoy working together.

“Third year was a clusterfuck completely the fault of Peter fucking Pettegrew.” Peverell snarled and Severus had to agree with him on that one. The little rat was possibly the most hated man in all of magical Britain for all the trouble he’d caused. “Can I have him by the way?” Peverell asked, turning to the Dark Lord with a questioning look.

“He’s already in the dungeons waiting for you, my dear,” the Dark Lord said with a smile that could cut diamond. Peverell only smiled back just as sharply.

He adjusted Lovegood’s position on his lap and began talking to the room again. “Tom had begun sending me nutrient potions and food the summer before so I was stronger that year than the ones before. The Dementors were a pain though.” Peverell said and Severus was once again hit by the realisation that he had been brewing potions for the boy for a very long time, and was likely one of the only reasons he was alive and healthy right now. It was a strange feeling for Severus and he wasn’t sure how to feel after so long actively hating the brat.

“I found out Pettegrew was the traitor from Tom the year before and had no idea why my godfather was so intent on getting in to Hogwarts until I saw the stupid rat’s name on the Map.”

“What map?” Draco asked and Severus was glad he wasn’t the only one who picked up on that and wanted to know more. He didn’t want to seem curious after all.

“My fathers, Remus Lupin and Pettegrew made a map of Hogwarts when they were in school. It shows not only where everything is, including secret passageways and whatnot, but also where every person in the castle is. It can’t be fooled by polyjuice, animagi or invisibility cloaks and is really quite handy at insulting people.” The stupid brat had the audacity to wink at Severus then and he had the quell the instinctive urge to take ten points from Gryffindor.

“I can still confiscate items when we get back to Hogwarts, brat,” Severus said to the bane of his existence. “And give you detention.” He added just because he could.

“Ah, but Severus, then I wouldn’t let you use it,” the boy smirked at him and damn if he wasn’t a little bit tempted. “And what would be the fun in that?” Severus scoffed dismissively but said no more on the matter undoubtedly confirming his desire to see, and thus use, the possibly ingenious creation of the thrice damned Marauders.  

“That year ended as all others have, with a showdown between that year’s ‘great threat’ and my ‘friends’. The Weasel, Granger and I ended up following Pettegrew and my godfather to the Shrieking Shack where my information from Tom was confirmed and Pettegrew was revealed to the rest of the Golden Trio. We were interrupted by Lupin and Severus and it all went to shit from there.”

Peverell looked a little exasperated, and Severus really couldn’t blame him. If he had gone through half of the ‘challenges’ Albus Dumbledore had put the boy through, he’d be a little exasperated too. Perhaps more so, but he doubted he was seeing all of Peverell’s emotions right now.

“We decided to take everyone up to the castle to sort everything out legally and then the full moon came out. Lupin is a werewolf, you see, and after nearly thirty years of taking the wolfsbane potion every full moon, without fail, he ‘forgot’ that night.” Severus’ eyebrows rose, he hadn’t thought of that. He’d always been too busy disliking the wolf on principle.

“I’m convinced Dumbledore had some interference, and knew exactly what was going on in the Shack, because after being attacked by a werewolf and ambushed by over a hundred Dementors, Dumbledore sent me and Granger back in time to save a Hippogriff and an Azkaban escapee. Both of whom could have been saved by Albus-I-hold-a-position-on-every-board-imaginable-Dumbledore with little effort on his part. In fact, I have all but confirmed that Sirius wasn’t allowed to be free in Dumbledore’s eyes because it meant I would legally have a closer blood relative than the Dursley’s.”

Lucius looked shocked and Severus hoped he wasn’t going to say something stupid again. “Sirius Black is a blood relative of yours?” Draco looked intrigued as well but Severus noted that everyone else in the room seemed to know what this meant. He hated being in the dark like this.

“Yes, my Grandmother was a Black from the main line. And, when I was born, Sirius blood adopted me and named me his heir. He knew even then that he would produce no heirs himself and I have always been like a son to him.”

Lucius looked enraged again. Severus really had no idea why this made any difference to the man’s life, or why it made him angry, despite the knowledge there was a child who shared blood and genetics with the stupid Black mutt. “You’re the Black heir?” Severus’ blonde disaster of a friend said incredulously and Severus had to stop himself from lowering his head into his hands and groaning in despair. Lucius really was too prideful sometimes. He had no right to his wife’s former family’s title despite his insistence.

The haughty look Peverell sported now told Severus exactly how he felt about his inheritance being questioned by a Lord of lower standing. “No, Lucius,” the young Vampire purred, “I’m the Black Lord.”

The blonde was standing up again before Severus could stop him, his face contorted in rage. “You don’t deserve such a title,” he sneered and Peverell just leaned back in his seat seemingly at ease with the situation. Despite this, Severus could see the tenseness of his shoulders and was sure the Vampire would be at Lucius’ throat within a second if he were pushed too far. “That title belongs to my son, not some filthy halfblood.”

The room was silent except for the slightly ragged breathing coming from the Malfoy Lord. Severus was shocked. He could see Draco was shocked too.

As was the Dark Lord. And Peverell’s followers.

Barty looked positively murderous.

Hadrian Peverell did something completely unexpected. He laughed.

A loud, probably genuine laugh that seemed to increase the tension in the room rather than ease it.

“Is that right, Lucius?” Peverell said, his voice turning dangerous as he passed the Lovegood girl to Barty and finally stood. He was taller that Lucius only by a centimetre or two but he seemed to tower over the Malfoy Lord as his magic whipped around him. “I have purer blood than you could ever hope to have, Lord Malfoy.” The title was said with such condescension that Severus would bet his best cauldron even Lucius could pick up on it.

“I have the blood of a Most Noble and three Most Ancient and Noble Houses running through my veins and I am the Lord of all four of them. You speak to me as if I am below you, but one word from me and your family name becomes synonymous with dirt throughout the British Isles. Every name I hold is older and richer and more respected than the Malfoy name and, if you push me Lucius, I have thousands of years to watch as every Malfoy who thinks themselves better than me falls. And they will know it is all your fault.”

Severus watched as his friend’s face got considerably paler as Lord Peverell continued to talk. He re-organised his mental schedule to make sure he spoke to Narcissa as soon as possible. He didn’t think Peverell would ruin Draco but he had to make sure Lucius knew his place.

“I am a full-blooded Living Vampire and therefore the literal top of the magical hierarchy, Lucius. So much more than the diluted Veela blood you try to hide from the world while you preach blood purity like you aren’t a hypocritical idiot who doesn’t know when to shut his mouth.” Peverell was in Lucius’ face now. Fangs bared, eyes glowing and magic choking the air from the room. Lucius was fucked if he didn’t stand down and Severus hoped he knew that.

“The only reason I haven’t already taken action against your disrespect, Lucius, is because your Lord likes you for some reason that I will never understand. I do not want to ruin your son and the pride he has in your Family name but I will if you continue to push me. Do you understand Lucius?”

Lord Peverell stalked back to his seat and sat in the most elegantly lazy position Severus had ever seen. One ankle crossed over the other leg and arms spread on the arm rests, he looked sculpted by the gods, like a predator wrapped up in the most beautiful and dangerous package they could come up with. Lucius was fucked.

“Yes, my Lord,” Lucius said meekly, attempting to retreat to his seat when Peverell cleared his throat.

“No, Lucius, I think you should address me with my full title tonight.” Peverell said, malice veiled behind a pleasantly sweet expression. Severus thought it was likely more terrifying than the anger he displayed just moments before. “That would be Lord Peverell-Ravenclaw-Black-Potter, to you,” the young Vampire said and Lucius’ eyes widened.

“Heir Slytherin as well if you don’t mind,” the Dark Lord said darkly and Severus was sure Lucius would be facing the wrath of their Lord at some point in the near future. Why he couldn’t just keep his mouth shut and act like a Slytherin, Severus didn’t know.

He sneaked a look at Draco and sighed at the mortified look on the Malfoy heir’s face. Likely he could not believe his Father would lack even a modicum of tact or decorum in any situation. Especially in present company.

Lucius bowed then, low and deep. Just a fraction higher than he usually would for his sworn Lord. His face deathly pale and displaying the full depth of his regret at speaking out of turn. “Yes my Lord Peverell-Ravenclaw-Black-Potter, Heir Slytherin. I apologise.” Peverell nodded his approval and Lucius slunk back to his seat. He was likely to remain silent for the rest of the night.

[thehappydromomaniac]

#NoSurbhiNoIshqbaaaz and #EndIshqbaaazWithShivika

I am an ardent fan of serial Ishqbaaaz. And a diehard fan of Shivika especially Annika. I got hooked to Ishqbaaz in the middle of August 2016 because of Shivaay and since then, no turning back. I have watched almost every single episode of it; cried, laughed, angered, agitated and sometimes baffled by it. Ishqbaaaz is the only series that had so much to give. Not the same old sob story or forced romance or boring, draggy plots. The chemistry between the brothers and the pairs are always beautifully portrayed and became the reason for me to follow the series religiously. Kudos to the writer who has even thought about it, the producer and directors who have given it the appropriate treatment, the entire crew for making it happen and the line of talents whom without, this wouldn't be possible at all.

A couple of days back, a news broke all the diehard fan’s hearts - A generation leap in order to save the show. And the main lead, Surbhi Chandna won’t be part of it as she is reluctant to play an older mother character at this point of time - Totally acceptable.

Fans tripped and begin their social media campaign and other whatnot to save their beloved Annika. I was happy to see the unity they had and the unplanned Twitter trend went viral. The issue needed clarification and the show’s producer, Ms Gul Khan was approached. She too answered all questions given honestly. Dear Gul ma’am, first of all, if you ever get to read this post, thanks for what you have given me; Almost 3 years of good entertainment and for always answering honestly without twisting and turning facts. Your honesty and frank personality has constantly been misconstrued as ego but I understand your stand. Being a creative head and controlling the finances at the same time can be a huge burden which you have handled so gracefully. You are an inspiration. I admire you a lot. Stay awesome. Without you, Ishqbaaz, Shivika, Narbhi wouldn't have been possible at all. You believed in it and you gave life to it. Thank you

Now, coming back to the movement “#NoSurbhiNoIshqbaaaz”. I am thrilled by it and to see the love Surbhi has garnered among the young generation who are now driving this campaign. I agree with them. Surbhi is one of the valves in the heart called Ishqbaaaz. Her exit would mean the heart’s function would be compromised. Destruction is inevitable if she leaves. But what I don’t understand is the hatred that is being thrown towards the producer and writer of the show. I have read multiple tweets and comments on Insta that range from disturbingly mean to misplaced hatred; ego, stupid, money-minded, etc. Totally misplaced!

Why misplaced you may ask, since I am in the mood of writing, here you go. 

1. If not for Gul ma’am, we wouldn't have got Shivika or Narbhi. Gul & Harneet CREATED Shivika pair. Technically, they are the first 2 fans. This decision had to be the toughest for THEM. THEY must be the most frustrated compared to any fan out there. Most fans invest a little time on social media or TV to watch, post, comment and then back to their routine life, either work or studies. But for G & H, this is their bread & butter and the food for their creative soul. They work on a daily basis to bring more and more life for those characters. They have more work to do compared to fans who are locking horns with them. Just because they have strong exteriors and practical point of view, they cannot be targeted for such cyber-bullying. Yes, the current reaction towards them is crossing the limits of constructive comments and reaching the line of cyberbullying. Calling them money minded, egoistic. One even condemned Harneet’s writing meanly. That is cyber-bullying, guys. Thank God, it is not affecting them. Or maybe it does, and they are just not showing it. They might be dealing it their own way. But guys, NOT COOL YAAR!

2. The past few months, we have seen the TRP plummet despite a strong fan following in Social Media. The strong fan following did not reflect where it should. Do you think TRP is child's play? This is not a charity organization. This is a business. Most of the fans are educated. You are supposed to be able to analyse this logically. Not impulsively. TRP rates reveal how loved a show is. If viewers don’t watch & numbers don’t show, the channel can only interpret it as “People are not interested in it”. Therefore, it will be pushed to some time slot where it won’t get much appropriate attention. Sponsors or ad times will be affected. These are what feeds the show's finances in the long run - A constant gain of profit or $$$ is needed to cover the production costs, the crews' salary and of course The Actors' salary. And for a show like Ishqbaaz, for the quality I see on screen, it has to cost a fortune. Who is going to give it? You and me? We can’t. But there was one thing that we could have done which we failed - WATCHING THE SHOW IN THE BLOODY TV SO THAT THE TRP DIDN’T GO LOW”. WE FAILED!! 

For a quick read about the importance of TRP for TV programmes, please click the link below. 

https://www.jagranjosh.com/general-knowledge/what-is-trp-and-how-is-it-calculated-1524137013-1

3. For Ishqbaaz to end, means the entire crew could go jobless and once again pushed to look for other opportunities. Which I know isn't going to be easy. Fans are making all kinds of disapproving noises from outside but no one is seeing straight. Gul Khan opened opportunities, gave the crew & talents a way into our hearts. Without her, Ishqbaaaz would have been just an idea on a piece of paper. Almost 3 years ago, she hired them and had faith in them before you & I even thought of Narbhi. Harneet created Shivika on paper. They did all the work. All we did was praising the talents and creating fan followings & factions. And shamelessly insult the very same people who created it. It's like insulting our best friend's parents even though we know our best friend wouldn't have existed if her parents didn't bear her for 9 months & raised her. Don’t forget, the joy of success and the pain of failures hurts them most.

4. You call her egoistic for clarifying her stand without twisting facts, for her straightforward answers, for standing firm of her decision to save her baby whom she gave birth to. Then, you doubt her sanity. If the channel said we are a small bunch, it is because we are reflecting as small bunch where we shouldn't. We should have shown them that we are big in numbers and support by not letting the numbers fall. I ask all of us. Aren't we egoistic too for not even giving a chance to understand her point of view? We are losing entertainment. She is losing the concept/idea she gave birth to. For all your rants and insulting words, may I ask if WE are willing to contribute financially to maintain the series instead of tweeting & spreading hatred? That would be more beneficial. But the truth is, WE didn't even have to do that. All WE had to do was BLOODY WATCHED IT ON TV SO THAT THE TRP WAS STILL GOOD AND THE SHOW WOULD GO ON WITHOUT ALL THIS DRAMA! 

5. If anyone needs to be blamed, it's those fan factions who instigated each other. First Rudy-Soumya fans fought & created the first ripple. Then, Gauri-Omkara. All that unnecessary jealousy towards Shivika. Shivika fans, on the other hand,  were too proud that they cannot be shaken by those fans. Then the Shivika faction further split into separate factions. One wants more Shivika, another more Omkara-Gauri, how are the makers supposed to satisfy everyone? I read all the nasty comments and immature remarks by one to another. Ishqbaaaz fandom parted ways. The larger faction was of course: Shivika. Shivika fans were bigger in number but not enough to carry Ishqbaaaz on its shoulders all by itself. The truth that all the factions and fandom will not accept is they let their ego affect the entire Ishqbaaaz universe. Even now as they read this, they will be too sensitive to the term ‘ego’ - which they conveniently throw at another person but can’t accept their own fault - most of them will be thinking of nasty comments to throw at me for saying it out loud. This was mainly the reason behind the fall of Dil Bole Oberoi. Fandoms came for its defence when it was scrapped and merged but where was the needed viewership when it was running?

6. Now, let’s talk about the digital power that went viral recently. But before that, we must address the matter of online impressions in Hotstar first - Now, I am from Malaysia. Ishqbaaaz has a substantial fan following here. In the channel we are provided with locally, the episodes are far behind, not the latest episodes. My friends & I constantly discuss Ishqbaaaz as everyone knows I am a crazy fan & that I keep myself updated with the latest episodes and progress as part of my daily routine. My day doesn't begin or end without me watching or even thinking about Ishqbaaaz. But you know the sad part for us here, Hotstar is not geographically accessible here. Even if it is, the lack of subtitles can be a bummer because the biggest market for drama here is the Malay market & the South Indian market. Most of us can’t understand Hindi but guess what; Most of us can’t speak Korea and yet the Korean dramas are successfully running here, thanks to subtitles. Ishqbaaaz’s Tamil version was utter nonsense for me as the voices did not give the same impact as the original voices. So, I chose to watch it online via any other sources possible. Mine was an act of desperation.  Not a day goes by without me opening Hotstar, just in case they have made it accessible; Disappointment on daily basis. If Hotstar was available and the subtitled option was available, maybe, just maybe, we could have helped with the global rating but that’s as much as we could have done. The local impression is still the major factor. Which again, whom to blame? Gul & Harneet? Absolutely not! I BLAME those online attention seekers who desperately needed followers and likes in social media that they began posting entire episodes on Insta. The fact is - those people are the biggest reason for all this Pehla Huva Raita. With an easier option to just watch it on Insta, Hotstar was neglected. So, we lost our online numbers as well. Now we don’t even have that ground to defend. Think about it!

Ratings are specific. Entertainment is a business. It survives on its value to bring profit. It is sad to see the fandom is made of a majority of young girls who are supposed to be educated and who are in full capacity to analyse this but are driven by unreasonable hate and anger. We are fans of Annika who is loving, responsible, forgiving, nurturing, fighting for justice without hurting people around her, coming up with quirky but practical solutions, who respect the older people in her life; and yet the girls following her seem to act brashly, unlike her at all. She fights for what she thinks is right but never at the expense of bashing another. Do you see the irony here? You idolize her but failed to follow her good footsteps. And also, I read a few comments about Annika being portrayed as crying a lot lately. Yes, she cried because she is not an emotionless robot. she is just like and me; going through shit on daily basis. But she doesn't lose hope. Annika rarely gives up. Scientific researches have backed that strong people do cry more but they don’t give up. Life can’t be rosy all the time. Without struggle, life becomes boring. and if you think her character has no oomph anymore, maybe it is time to revamp, don’t you think?

And then I see some posts calling to boycott the series now. BRAVO! Just brilliant. I can understand if you want to boycott it after Surbhi is out. But now, while she is still in it, trying her best to bring the numbers up again with the hope that her fans won’t fail her? That’s just brilliant. Instead of helping her, you want to boycott, bring down the numbers and prove Gul ma’ams point? You sure you are a fan? Coz, your actions are not reflecting it. You are supposed to watch it even more now, encourage people around to watch so that the numbers increase exponentially. The same spirit you showed in the Twitter trend, you have to show in front of your TV. Campaign for more people to watch it on TV, your family, neighbours, friends, crushes, etc. Report all the accounts that are conveniently posting the full episodes on Insta. Even if they post a day after, for fans who are convenient with it will go back to their account instead of going to the correct source; HOTSTAR. Pictures seriously won't do much harm unless the pictures show the entire scene. If it shows one juicy scene, it will trigger people’s curiosity to watch it. The real culprits are those who post the episodes. That is not loving. You are butchering Surbhi’s talent for your own greed to get more followers and likes. You want people to go to your account instead of TV and HOTSTAR. So, you are increasing the possibility for the numbers to go down and thanks to that, makers need to look into other angles which have directly affected SC now. So, blame them, not the makers.

The makers have tried and are trying many angles, plot after plot. Seriously, I have followed another Indian series before (which I am not going to name) with the unchanged plot for more than 3 years now. Before the leap, they lead pair didn’t get along, villains always separating them, went on in a circle for years until I got fed up. Leap after leap, the same plot. Even after a major leap, once again the same. The villains always get the better out of everything. The TRP is high still. But that is not the case for Ishqbaaaz. Harneet has given brilliant character progress for the leads, the chemistry between the pairs and who can deny the brilliant love of the Oberoi brothers. Villains are always defeated with Obros & Obahus’ togetherness. No other drama out there did that. And yet, all her efforts are forgotten and you are blaming her for her writing? Her plots are smart. And yes, it is a series end of the day, and it has to have some masala and some ups and down. The plots did get boring at some point but always managed to bounce back. Different angles had to be explored.Y ou think they thought Shivika would be a craze when they first introduced them to us? They just did it by hoping it would and it did. Just like that, they tried coming up with plots after plots but some failed. No one and nothing is perfect. We are all humans and we are all flawed.

For a series named ISHQBAAAZ, the fandom is sure showing a lot of hatred. That won’t solve this. Only love would. Stop fighting and focus on uniting. Start a mission to prove to Gul ma’am and the channel that the fans can BRING BACK GOOD TRP if they unite; THEN, YOU ARE ALL TRUE FANS.

Gul ma’am, I don’t know if you would ever get to read this. I hope it finds its way to you. I know your action is merely to keep the show running. I can understand that you are the most affected party in this. I used to work in the TV industry, so I know a little about how it works. I don’t agree with most of the things that are said to you. But there is one thing that I think might have worked. - Marketing is very important for all products. Ishqbaaaz (just as much as I am emotionally attached to) is also a product. It has a good fan following but something is misplaced. I don’t know what but there are some things that could be done to help get it back on track. I believe in doing everything doable possible before moving on. If you have the same belief, you may read further.

You have seen better numbers for the show before, so you do know that it is not impossible to bring back those numbers. And you can’t be taking everyone’s suggestions for the plots, etc. It is your drama. Your baby. Plots aside, here are some marketing suggestions. I don’t know how effective these could be. But we will never know if we don’t give it a go.

1) Urge the casts to posts videos in their Insta & Twitter urging them to watch it on TV or Hotstar. Their fans will listen to them.

2) Initiate a campaign - throw a contest; A watch & win contest. Real-time contest where they have to answer within 10 minutes of the episode end on TV, via SMS or online. This contest should not be posted in Hotstar and should be an exclusive TV contest. The prize could be a dinner session with the Ishqbaaaz team or the lead pair or either one of them. This could encourage the fans to watch it on TV.

3) I don’t know if Ishqbaaaz has a digital marketing team. If you do but most fans are unaware of it, it means the team needs to up its game. The digital team has to overshadow all the fandom or better, work along. Your team could both look out for accounts that violate and post episodes, report and block it and also join forces with the active fan clubs by feeding them exclusive pics and vid bits in exchange for turning the traffic back to where it should be; TV and HOTSTAR. Again, an online HOTSTAR exclusive contest with probably signed merchandises as prizes could be a good hook.

4) Please consider the ASEAN market for HOTSTAR. Maybe we could help too.

I believe the redux is about to end. Just matter of Shivaay & Annika’s confession. Once the redux ends, I assume the next is going to be exploring the pregnancy track. All of us fans have been waiting for this to happen. Seeing Shivika’s parenting skills have been long dreamt by all of us. We really hope to see that. If even that doesn't work, then probably nothing much can be done to avoid the generation leap. But frankly, it would be much graceful to end it with Shivika. Ishqbaaaz is synonymous with Shivika and Obros, taking it away means taking the essence of Ishqbaaaz away. Though, I don’t think I am in any position to condemn your attempts to breathe new life to the series. Only you know how much investment of time, effort, blood, sweat and money has gone into this. It is easy for us to tell you to kill it with grace, but you are the one living the pain. In many ways, i can associate myself with Annika’s character as in real life I am as emphatatic. I am quirkier and even more stubborn than Annika though. Thank you for showing me a reflection of myself.  

If anyone is going to argue that other successfully running dramas are also available on Instagram but it doesn't affect their TRP, it simply means, their fandom is strong enough to watch it on TV and don’t allow other factors cloud them or disintegrate them. They are doing their job right. Now, it’s our turn. Seriously, if I am part of the makers, for all the inappropriate hatred showered, I would lose my interest to even think of making it better. They must be highly motivated to deal with all this and still go on with this tiring job. Anyways, spamming inboxes, ambushing the offices, trending helps a little. But you know what will help the most? WATCHING ISHQBAAAZ ON TV! LET THE TRP TALK TO THEM COZ THAT’S THE RIGHT LANGUAGE TO GET THE MESSAGE ACROSS!

Last but not least. Thanks, to everyone for reading this long post. I hope the series that has woke me up everyday feeling good will not end too soon. And yes, I support #NoSurbhiNoIshqbaaaz and #EndIshqbaaazWithShivika

Constructive comments are welcomed.

Insta: @arulkc

[tysonrunningfox]

Relationship Challenged

I just...can’t wait, guys.  The Arvelia arc is gonna happen and I’ll post it and maybe it’ll even be better when shit is going down (because it’s gonna go down)  

But.  The baby boy still does not know how to girl.  And he should probably try soon.  

Tumblr | AO3

“Why’d you let the dragon go?”  Aurelia asks, leaning against Bang’s side and wiggling her stocking feet in front of the fire.  

“What dragon?”  I pick my head up off of Bang’s back to look at her.

“The scauldron, the one that destroyed the dock.  Why did you let it go?”  She turns towards me, tucking her feet under her and leaning a still cautious elbow along Bang’s back.  “Maybe if my dad had seen it he would have finally believed us about the dragons.”  

“It’s not that he doesn’t believe us,” I scoff, staring at my hands, “it’s that he thinks it doesn’t mean anything.  It’s like he doesn’t notice that it’s a week after Snoggletog and that’s the first wild dragon I’ve seen.”  

“But if you’d kept the dragon around, maybe we could figure out what’s wrong with them or—”

“Have you seen a full grown Scauldron?”  I snap and I feel bad about it but not enough to slow down.  “They’re not small.  And if they’re panicking and don’t want to do what you want them to do, they spray boiling water at your face.”  

“Yeah, but we train dragons all the time—”

“We?”  It comes out too harsh and I sigh.  “Sorry.”

“What’s got your too short pants in a bunch?”  She looks at the inch of my ankle that’s exposed above my socks with that Aurelia brand judgement that makes me forget she’s harmless and I tug my pantlegs down.  

“Nothing.”  

“You’ve been a jerk ever since you got home—”

“The chief was late and made me deal with all this shit on my own—”

“Wait, are you actually upset that he was late or are you upset about why he was late?”  She leans in slightly like she’s interested in something between the points I’m actually making and I shrug.  

“Both—”

“You know?”  She scoots closer, distracted enough that she doesn’t flinch when Bang’s scales ripple next to her.  That or she’s getting used to Wingspark and it’s carrying over, but I’d rather her be so enchanted with what I’m saying than think about her and Arvid right now.  My face is just feeling firm in all the right places again.  

“I know what?”  

“Wait, what?”  She shakes her head, “why are you mad at why the chief was late?  What is that why?”  

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I laugh, scooting away from her because this suddenly feels a little too much like an interrogation for my taste.  “But he stopped to invite Fuse without talking to me first—”

“Oh my Gods, that’s still a problem?”  She scoffs, “you haven’t talked to her yet?” 

“No!”  I throw my arms up and my head falls back against Bang, who groans with the impact, whiny ever since I made him work this morning. “Smitelout is taking forever with the baffle and at this point it’s been so long I don’t know how I can just…go talk to her empty handed.”  

“So what did you do?”

“I just…flew off.”  I shrug, face hot with embarrassment, because it sounds cowardly even though it’s not, not really.  “I—I just want to actually make it right, I don’t want to give her any other reason to be mad at me.”  

“Right.  A reason aside from a stupid metal thing you forgot to forge.  Because that’s why she’s mad but you won’t ask her and it’s been more than a week.”

“Is that sarcasm?”  

“What do you think?”  She rolls her eyes and drums her fingers against Bang’s side before seemingly realizing what she’s doing and very daintily curling her arm back into her chest.  “You should just talk to Fuse.  And you should also open your eyes, in general—”

“If I’m missing so much, why don’t you tell me what it is?”  

“Because I don’t have proof.”  She huffs, “and I don’t want Arvid’s head to get any bigger about it.”  

“I…” I sigh and cradle my head in my hands, “I’m just going to safely say I don’t want to know what you’re talking about—”

“I—Mom’s happy, right?” She rocks back onto her heels and stands up slowly, like she’s not sure she wants to have the conversation and I wishes she’d be a little more decisive about it.  Preferably before she tells me anything else about Arvid’s big head and I throw up.  “Or happier than she was.  Happier than I’ve known her.”  

“She’s seemed happy since Snoggletog,” I shrug a shoulder and look back at the fire, ear trained on her room in case she’s listening in.  “I think planning the feast was good for her, I—I don’t know.”  Calling her happy hurts, it makes me compare what I’ve seen of her recently to how she used to be and I don’t want to draw that parallel. It makes this feel even more permanent than it already is.  

“Yeah,” Aurelia sighs, “I’m going to go to bed.  See you tomorrow.”  

“Yeah, sure. Goodnight.”  I listen to her climb the stairs and I hear her door shut.  She doesn’t open her window, like maybe she actually has plans to stay here tonight and that, at least, makes me feel temporarily like less of a loser.  

00000

“Good morning,” Mom emerges from her bedroom long after I’ve already eaten everything in the house that was in a vaguely edible state for breakfast.  She sees the empty pots and baskets on the counter and shakes her head. “I see you were hungry.”  

“Yeah,” I shrug, “sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she laughs like she never used to when Arvid and I tore through all passable ingredients in the middle of the night.  Maybe there is something to being rich in that special chiefly way, maybe that’s why she’s not contesting it.  “Did Aurelia at least get some of it?”  

“She asked for bread but lost her appetite when I started cleaning out last night’s pan with mine, to be honest.”  

“So you are a late grower,” she scoffs, pulling the bag of flour out and getting started on another batch of bread.  I think about offering to help but that feels weirder than it used to, like now I’m almost part of a chief and if he came down to me covered in flour that would go away. “I kind of wondered about that, honestly.”  

“Because of the chief?” I try to sound angry but it doesn’t quite happen, because in my head he’s not just the guy who wasn’t there when a scauldron took a dock down, he’s also the guy who tried to teach his dad to train a Thunderdrum.  His dad, who was my grandpa, whose statue I’ve seen every day that I lived without knowing Eret the Original.  

“Because you never bit Arvid’s hand when he took food off your plate.”  She’s diverting, and I don’t mind, I like that she’s faking something, that there’s some plain I can interact with her on that’s not driven by abject, painful truth.  

“Not that you saw.”  

She laughs.  It doesn’t quite make me happy like it used to, because I’ve realized she might have been thinking of someone else making her laugh, and I try to act like I don’t notice.  

“Any reason you’re up so early?”  

“It’s not that early,” I look out the window at the sun creeping upwards, “it’s like mid-morning. The chief hasn’t even been down yet.”

“It’s early for you,” she points a clean spatula at me.  

“Maybe I’m growing up,” I get the feeling that I should just leave, that being here isn’t being helpful and I hate it.  I hate that helpful is the pivot that I’ve started to gauge myself around.  

“Not that fast.”  

“Maybe it’s my late growth spurt,” I stand up, the rare and foreign reality of being irritated with my mom overwhelming as I stretch, looking at the door like there’s anything more entertaining outside.  My mom always said I’d someday regret not having any hobbies except running around with Arvid and I guess that day is finally here.  “Should I go wake the chief up?  There’s got to be something I should go do.”  

“Eh, probably let him sleep.”  Mom goes back to rooting through the cabinets, “did you literally eat all the food?”

“It’s not like there was all that much.”  I cross my arms and lean back against the table, “I could go to the market, if you wanted.  I don’t know what all to buy but—”

“Where’s your sister?”

“Out.”  I shrug, I’m pretty sure she said something about meeting Arvid and I’m making that eternally hard choice to not think about it.

“She didn’t take Stoick anywhere?”  

“I don’t know.  I didn’t see her leave, I was giving Bang breakfast.”  

“Well he’s not hanging off of Bang so I’m assuming he’s not here.”  She says it like a joke and I don’t know why she’s not more concerned. It’s seemed like that a lot lately, honestly, ever since Snoggletog she’s been…almost serene.  It puts me on edge more than I could ever have imagined, honestly, because she’s always been the one on top of things, ready to appropriately freak out at a moments’ notice.  

But now?  Stoick is apparently mysteriously absent and she’s raising an eyebrow at me like she’s only mildly worried and it’s mostly about my dead expression.  

“Should I go look for him?”

“If you feel strongly about it,” she walks over to where her axe is hanging on the wall, and I hadn’t even noticed it there.  That makes less sense than anything else, the fact that she’s not sleeping with it under the edge of the bed where she always used to keep it.  I remember Rolf stubbing his toe on the handle once and moping around for weeks that it could have cut his foot off, and now it’s just…twenty feet away from her, all night, like suddenly everything is safe in a way that she’s always told me Berk isn’t.  

Maybe it’s because we’re basically in the center of the village now, instead of on the quiet dark edge where an attack would most likely start, but I don’t want to ask about it. I don’t want her telling me that things are safer and happier than ever when I don’t even have anyone to complain to.

“I mean, I kind of feel strongly about my little brother being missing—”

“Oh my gods, it’s like you woke up angling for a fight,” she rolls her eyes like she wasn’t born angling for a fight and hands me a bag filled with more silver than I used to see in a year, “go to the market while you’re out freaking out about nothing.  Try and get at least everything you ate this morning.”

“You’re sending me to the market?”  I weigh the silver in my hand and it reminds me of Fuse for some reason, probably because she’s the only other person to ever have overpaid me by this much.  

If I go to the market, the chances of seeing Fuse are higher than I’d really like to think about and yeah, I could nag Smitelout about the baffle but that doesn’t feel like it’d be enough.  

“I’m sure you can handle it.”  

“Well, what are you going to do?”  I look around, “the house is clean, all the trees outside are chopped down.  What if I don’t know what to get or I get so much I can’t carry it—”

Fuse can’t kill me if my mom is there.  Neither can Arvid.  

“You have a giant helpful lizard who will carry whatever you buy,” she starts physically ushering me towards the door and I shrug her hand off my shoulder.  

“What if we haven’t spent any time together lately—”

“That must be why I’m so well rested.”  She opens the door and half shoves me out, “go, I’ll braid your hair and we can talk about boys when you come back.”  

“We could do that now.” I try to step back inside and she shakes her head at me and closes the door in my face.  

Stormfly squawks, pecking at my pocket like I didn’t feed her breakfast an hour ago and I scratch her chin.  

“At least you still like me.”  I pull my hand away before she can nip at my sleeve again. “I’m not getting any quality time with her either.  I’m assuming she’ll be out in a bit.”  

She chirps and I pat her beak, “you could come to the market with me—or that!”  I call after her as she suddenly takes off, flying to land on the chief’s roof and curling her wings under her to sit like the giant chicken I feel like, nervous to go into the village like it’s a year ago and my parents will get pissed at me for it.  

I start walking that way even though Bang tugs on my hand and tries to get me to fly.  That feels more public though, because the skies are slowly starting to fill again.  Most of the owned dragons are back from their Snoggletog adventures and a few wild dragons have trickled in over the horizon.  It’s not enough and I know it’s not enough but I haven’t mentioned it and no one has mentioned it to me.  I guess I’d tell Aurelia if she was ever around, but part of me wonders if she’d just start finding a way to prove that I’m wrong about it too.  

I haven’t been right much lately.  And maybe that’s normal, but it feels like it’s getting pointed out a lot more than normal.  

The main square is full of more people than I want to deal with right now and I cut across to the forge as quickly as I can, half hoping to see Gobber because at least he’ll have time to yell at me or something, but it’s just Smitelout.  She’s working on a war hammer and humming to herself and when I say her name she glares at me and at least that feels normal.  

“Not quite ready to kick your ass, Twerp.”  

“What?”  

“When I finish your little gift for Thorston, or whatever,” she gestures under the counter where I’m assuming she’s storing it, “or not so little.  That thing is fucking huge.”  

“I’m aware.”  

“What’d you do?”  She snorts, “and you know, the size of the gift doesn’t make up for how big of an idiot you are.”  

“I didn’t do anything,” I scoff, because Smitelout is the last person I’m ever going to admit a mistake to.  Her ego would swell so big that the roof of the forge would pop off and the chief would probably make me fix it.  “But are you going to be done anytime soon?  It’s kind of important.”  

“Yeah, and so is the rest of the shit I’ve got to do.”  

“I’m just asking when you think it’ll be done.”  I remember I’m not with the chief right now and I’m not doing anything he asked me to and that there’s really nothing stopping me from telling her exactly what I think of this situation.  But I also don’t see how that would help anything and again, I’m campaigning for the heavy, irritating title of Eret the Helpful.  

“I’ll let you know, alright?”  She gestures around the forge, “I’ve got orders out the ass for new kid saddles for when wild dragons come back and the little shits can all choose their lifelong companion, or whatever.”  

“Any idea when that’ll be?” I snort.  

“I keep hearing any day now but—wait, why are you asking it like that?”  

“Like what?”  

“Like you know something I don’t.”  

“I can’t imagine you’re used to any other tone—”

“That’s a real reasonable thing to say to the person making your girlfriend’s presents for you.”  

“She’s not my girlfriend.” I huff.  I’m not sure she’s even my friend after I forgot about her and I keep wondering if I made the right choice flying away from her at the dock.

“I literally could not care less.”  She raises her hand like she had an idea I care about, “oh wait, if I were dead. Being physically dead is the only way I could care less.”  She shrugs, “and you don’t have to tell me your probably lame reason for talking about the dragons coming back in that ‘I’m the chief’s son so I’m so smart’ tone—”

“That’s not a thing.”

“Uh yeah it is,” she snorts, “ask any Jorgenson for the last like, three hundred years about the chief’s kids’ tone.”  

“Not going to dig up your family crypt to get lamely insulted, but thanks for the offer.”  

“I’m just saying though,” she sets down her hammer and looks at me almost pensively, or maybe she has gas and isn’t quite sure what to do about it.  Either way, at least it’s quiet enough I can half believe she wants me to respond to whatever she’s about to say.  “Usually there are a bunch more dragons back by now.  Looking at Gobber’s books, you were swamped with saddles a week earlier last year.”  

“Yeah, it was earlier.” I look around and the dragons I see are all wearing saddles or harnesses or following people around.  

“That’s what I get expecting brilliance from a Hofferson,” she spits the name and it takes me a second to remember she’s talking to me.  About me.  

“Thought I was just the chief’s kid to you, wouldn’t that make me a Haddock?”  

“You’re nothing to me,” she goes back to swinging that forge hammer and it sounds like a memory of a simpler time when I was inside and Gobber was telling me what to do.  At least when I was doing what Gobber said, I always knew it was the easiest way through.  “But once a Hofferson, always a Hofferson.”  

“It’s been…well, it’s been like you’re a pain in the ass, or something.”  I pat my hands on the counter once more then turn to leave, “and I’ll consider paying you more if you finish that soon.”  

“I’ll take two punches for a late in project rush job.”  She waves me away, “I’ll let you know when it’s done.  Just leave me alone until then.  Seriously.  I mean it.”

“Cool, I’ll check in every day.”  I laugh at her red angry face and wave one as I take a few backwards steps before turning and pausing again at the crowd.  

I don’t see Fuse.  I hate that I don’t see her, because that means this isn’t over.  I don’t see Arvid either, which is good because the bakery happens to be on his side of the island and I don’t know if I can expect him to honor that or not.  I didn’t start anything on Snoggletog, but that could easily be considered an exemption given the fact he was attached to my sister’s face and that would have made it hard to only hit one of them.  

I buy bread.  I have no idea how much enough is, I only know that I put more silver down on the counter than I think I’ve ever spent in my life.  I guess I’ve traded labor in the forge worth more, but I don’t think I’ve ever just…set that much money down.  I’m not quite sure I’d call it a perk of being the chief’s son, it makes things feel fake, tilted.  Because I didn’t work for any of this and I hate how easy it would be to get used to not working for anything.  I hate how the most of myself I’ve put into anything in a while is arguing with Smitelout.

On my way out of the bakery, Mrs. Jorgenson sees me and rushes over and I wonder, for a second, if Smitelout is really enough of a brat to tell her mom that I was bothering her or something, but she doesn’t say anything about Smitelout and instead dives into the middle of some issue I haven’t heard anything about.  

“It’s weeks after Snoggletog and the roof is still leaking, it’s right over the cooking pit in the back of the hall and I can’t get anyone down to patch it, the chief said he’d send Gustav over but it hasn’t happened and today I started to notice the floor warping and we can’t make a fire in there without more snow melting—”

“Whoa,” I step back and shake my head, “I don’t know anything about this, Mrs. Jorgenson—”

“But surely you could do something—”

“I…actually don’t know if I can—”

“You could talk to Gustav for me,” she purses her lips like she’s tasting something sour, “he won’t hear it from me, says I don’t have the authority.”  

“I don’t uh…I don’t see why he’d think I did.”  I pause for a minute and she stares at me like I’m stupid, the resemblance to her daughter becoming apparent in a second.  Smitelout might look like Snotlout with less of a beard but that derisive look is all her mother.  “Because I walk around with the chief while he orders people around?”  I laugh.  She doesn’t.

“Could you give it a try? At least?”  She’s polite in a way I’m not used to, asking instead of telling, and I sigh.  

“Ok.  Sure.  I’ll go talk to him when I’m done shopping, my mom sent me—”

“There was supposed to be a feast tonight and I can’t get the fire going.”  She edges in front of me like I’ll feel physically blocked enough to do what she wants.  

“Fine.  I’ll go now.  I can’t promise anything but—”

“Thank you!”  She’s way too excited for someone trying to patch a roof and I get that same feeling from it as I do from Aurelia when Mom gives her a task and she buckles down with that whole-hearted commitment.  It’s the commitment of someone who doesn’t get tasked with many things and I have half a mind to offer Mrs. Jorgenson some of mine.  

“Sure.”  I take one of the pieces of bread out of the basket and start eating it like it’ll magically make me feel more capable.  

I should go find the chief, probably, but that would just make this take longer.  And I’d have to ask the chief for help, which isn’t my favorite activity even if I know he’d probably give it to me.  He’s been happy too.  Happy enough to make me feel defective for feeling miserable and weird and out of place in the first house I’ve ever lived in where everyone is related to me.  

Gustav opens the door on my first knock and stares at me for a second like if he pretends he doesn’t recognize me I can’t ask him to do anything.  

“Good morning, Mr. Larson,” I start and it sounds as fake as it always sounds to pretend I don’t know all of these people in the name of some messed up professionalism.  Somehow, when the chief gives people formal titles, it’s always like a reminder that he’s chief and they’re not, but when I say it, I sound like a child.  It makes me wish I hadn’t shaved, honestly, but by the time my bruises faded to yellow, the beard was long enough to be itchy.  

“You fling some other thing into my roof?”  

That was the day I promised to make Fuse the baffle.  The reminder stings in a way it shouldn’t and I want to go throttle Smitelout for taking so long or better yet, kick her out of the forge and do it myself.  Gobber said that he wouldn’t let me abandon projects, but I’m realizing he probably just said that to yell at me about forge stuff one last time.  

“No, not today,” I laugh because the chief laughs when he’s trying to make someone do something they don’t want to do, “it is about a roof though.  Mrs. Jorgenson was telling me about the leak at the great hall—”

“It’s not a priority.”

“Says who?”  

“Says me.”  

“Well,” I swallow, “I say it is a priority.  The floor is starting to warp and that repair is a lot bigger pain in the ass.”  I remember a second too late that I’m not supposed to swear while I’m trying to look official.  “Shit.  Or budget. Both.  Whatever.”  

“Mrs. Jorgenson tell you that?”  He raises an eyebrow, “I don’t know why we gave her this feast, it’s all going to her head—”

“Yeah, well, at least she’s using hers.”  It’s harsher than I want it to be but maybe my own ounce of half power is going to my head. Maybe my ego won’t fit in the forge anymore either and maybe it feels like the only thing I can lean on.  It’s less of an ego and more of a crash landing pad that I’m intentionally keeping fully inflated.  “Of course we don’t have the wood to patch the floor of the biggest building on the whole island while we’re expanding our storage.”  

“We’re expanding our storage?  I thought your mom shot that down.”  

“She just shot down the giant ‘S’ part of it, which, you know, fair.”  

He looks at me for a second before rolling his eyes and pushing past me on his way outside.  He whistles and Fanghook drops down off of his roof, sniffing at Bang and growling a low, intimidating growl under his breath. Bang doesn’t care, which is one of the most admirable things about him, and I wish I felt like battles were choices the same way he does.  

“Fine.  I’ll go do it now.  Tell Mrs. Jorgenson you had to give me more Hel than this though, honestly.” He grins as he gets onto Fanghook, “and tell your mom I’ll do whatever she says if the chief sends her next time.”

My fist clenches. That whole not swearing rule is ridiculous.  

“The chief didn’t send me and I’ll tell my Mom to widen her perimeter of avoidance around you.”  

“Funny,” Gustav shakes his head, “the kid is funny.”  

I want to tell him I’m not a kid.  And that I’m not funny, I mean it.  None of that makes it out of my mouth before he takes off and at least flies in the right direction.  

I’m just getting onto Bang to go home and tell the chief that he might want to go do his own job before people start expecting me to do all of it when Aurelia walks out from between the houses behind me, arms crossed and frowning.  I know that look.  It used to mean she was gearing herself up for a fight with the chief but lately it’s meant that she thinks I’m wrong and she wants to make sure that I know it.  

“You can’t let Gustav talk to you that way,” she scoffs, “now he’s going to fight you on everything.”

“What do you know about Gustav?”  

“I know he has to listen to you.  Hel, he has to listen to me, I’m still the chief’s daughter even if it’s less legitimate than it used to be.”  

“I think it’s plenty legitimate,” I look at her, red braid over her shoulder, sarcasm wielded like a knife.  The singular embodiment of everything I had that never fit in with my family.  

“Well, yeah, but you still can’t let people talk to you that way if you’re going to be chief.  I know my dad doesn’t.”  

“I thought you’d be glad for a slight change in regime.”  I want to tell her about Smitelout and the dragons and I almost think she’d let me but she cocks her other hip and crosses her arms more tightly, like she’s resolving herself against talking to me.  

I bet she talked to Fuse. I bet they’re both mad at me about whatever they wouldn’t tell me before Snoggletog.  

“I’m just saying, if you’re going to act like the chief, you can’t let people talk to you like that.”

“I don’t think you’re qualified to give advice on being chief.”  

“Fuse saw you, by the way.” She shrugs one shoulder like she’s sorry she has to say it, “in the market.  And she saw you fly away from the docks.”

“Why are you telling me that?”  

“You should talk to her.”

“The baffle is almost done,” I sigh, “I nagged Smitelout about it today—”

“It’s like you’re this stupid on purpose.”  She shakes her head like I’m beyond help and maybe she’s right, maybe Eret The Helpful is a thing because I need it the most.  

“I try.”  I look at the basket of bread on Bang’s back, “Mom sent me to the market with what looks like all the money.  Do you want anything?”  

“Nothing you won’t eat before I get to it.”  She shakes her head and at least there’s a shade of a smile there, like she doesn’t hate me entirely.