#well. there are other things but i fear the reaction would be more than annoyance

[domistique]

how many times can one post about charles leclerc crossdressing/being effeminate before follower start getting annoyed googel search

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

See, I think Charles’ annoyance and frustration with the Cat King really was just pure protectiveness and not any kind of jealousy - it’s understandable, because Edwin is not telling him what happened even though something clearly did, which is not typical for them. Edwin doesn’t usually hide things like this! Of course he’s worried!

Charles’ reaction to Monty, on the other hand, is difficult to explain in a way that isn’t jealousy. You could say he’s being protective again, but Charles shows no sign of distrust in Monty, and had no idea of who Monty was or that he might betray them - he was actually very chill with him, except in a select few specific scenes. You could say he just doesn’t like him because he got brushed off during their first meeting, but not only does that not seem like Charles at all, it also doesn’t make sense, since, again, in most instances, Charles is genuinely friendly and is happy when Monty compliments him and seems to have come around to liking him (it completely flies over his head that this is a petty jab at Edwin on Monty’s part but oh well hahaha). You could say it changes up their status quo a bit and that bothers Charles. I do think this bothers him a bit, but I think, unlike Edwin, Charles’ fear and frustration here is directed more at situations (the Cat King whisking him away for several hours, as an example) than others. He’s sociable and likes being able to talk to new people. There’s absolutely no way he’d begrudge Edwin doing the same - and he doesn’t… with Niko. Edwin and Niko hit it off and become very close and that never bothers Charles at all. He’s incredibly endeared to her, just like the rest, and for the most part, he’s chill with Monty too, and smiles pretty knowingly when Edwin confesses to him having awakened some feelings. The only exceptions, where he shows definite annoyance, are when Monty first shows up and gets really in Edwin’s personal space to show him the astrology chart he made, and when Edwin is so sucked into the book Monty gave him that he doesn’t hear that Charles is talking to him, to which he annoyedly says that they seem to have been “spending a lot of time together”.

You could say he’s unused to having anyone get in Edwin’s personal space like that, but, again, Niko. She’s very tactile with him and he doesn’t seem to mind all that much; they spend time together watching things. If it was just someone getting close with Edwin in general, not only would that be weirdly possessive for the character, but it would also mean he would show discomfort with anyone getting close, I think. Does Charles see Monty as more of a potential threat than Niko, seeing as he knows her and her personality and doesn’t know Monty? Well, maybe, but again, Charles shows no sign of distrusting Monty at all.

Monty is a boy. Okay. So something about seeing Edwin so close to a boy that is not him, getting lost in thought over something this boy gave him, really rubs Charles the wrong way. Charles appears to catch on just as quickly as anyone else that there is something (or it looks like something) between Edwin and Monty. He is not surprised when Edwin comes out to him in episode 6, and in fact, seems to have just been waiting for him to verbalize it. He smiles and is not bothered at all by Edwin showing (what he thinks is) a romantic interest in Monty - he just doesn’t like it when Monty clearly shows a romantic interest in Edwin. Um. Well. Well.

Charles is jealous. I really don’t know what else to say.

Look, when I first watched this show, I actually didn’t want them to end up together romantically - I love the idea of one having fallen in love with another who does not reciprocate and the two of them still loving each other just as much. That Edwin’s confession made them closer instead of making things awkward is such a beautiful outcome to this build up and I absolutely love it. However. On my two rewatches, I caught a lot more little details, and I think it would be very strange if the show did not follow up on this. That, plus the deliberate quality of these “jealousy” moments where the camera focuses on him, Charles’ Orpheus coding throughout the show, the fact that Edwin’s arc was far more about realizing his feelings for Charles specifically than just coming to terms with his sexuality, and that even the actors admit that Charles’ response to the confession kind of left things open, it really seems to me like the path leads to a romantic endgame for them, or at the very least, that this possibility will be explored in more depth.

**This is just my reading of it. Please do not use this post as a gotcha for anyone who loves them as a platonic duo or people who really love Crystal and Charles together (because let’s face it, they’re super cute too). I’m just doing my rambles. As per usual.

[dottores]

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, reader gets a bit hurt in this chapter but only briefly.

notes: y'all we are officially 50k words in omg what a milestone. we are almost there--they are going to meet soon... but technically.... well you'll see. there are THREE special cameos in this chapter

A WARM WELCOME

“Now is not the time, doctor.”

Pantalone didn’t even raise his head to look at Dottore as he scribbled away at whatever parchment he was writing on. Dottore pressed his lips together, eyes cold beneath his mask as he watched Pantalone, unmoving. The windows of his office creaked against the winds outside, fireplace crackling to keep the room warm but other than that, silence rang loudly between the two of them.

Finally, when Dottore made no move to leave, Pantalone looked up. “What is it? I have a week to prepare for the induction of the Eleventh. I don’t have time for petty complaints.”

Dottore should be insulted, he could feel his irritation rising at the man’s comment but he forced himself to push it away. He had more important things to deal with, notably, his soulmate and as much as he hated to admit it, Pantalone’s resources were necessary if he wanted to find her before someone else did… before she got herself and by extension, him, hurt.

“You offered me resources a few years ago,” Dottore finally said, watching Pantalone carefully for a reaction. “I would like them now.”

The Regrator was a sharp man. Dottore did not have to go into detail for purple eyes to flicker down to his thumb, where the red thread connected him to his soulmate. He watched as Pantalone’s brows furrowed, as he tried to figure out why the sudden change after years of Dottore denying her very existence to him. 

“You have terrible timing, doctor,” Pantalone murmured, pushing the parchments aside as he leaned back in his seat to look up at Dottore. “My resources have been all but expended between the upcoming event and trying to track down that menace to the east who has been slaughtering our underlings.

Dottore’s lips twisted. “It is not my timing that is terrible,” he said coolly, Pantalone raised his eyebrows and Dottore exhaled. “It’s hers. I believe she is here. In Snezhnaya.”

Pantalone exhaled, turning his head to the side to look out the window. “That’s not good,” he murmured. 

“I know that,” Dottore said shortly.

“Why not send one of your segments?” Pantalone asked after a moment, pen tapping against the wood of his desk in an unsteady manner that had Dottore’s eye twitching in annoyance.

“They’re busy,” Dottore answered tensely. 

A lie. Both Epsilon and Rho were back in Snezhnaya City with nothing to do until Dottore decided what research he wanted them to continue on after finishing a round of successful experiments in Archon residue down in southern Liyue. Dottore just didn’t want to send them after her. 

Epsilon was Epsilon. He could not trust that the segment wouldn’t do something foolish driven by the emotions that the rest of them did not have or were not capable of understanding. He was the one that Dottore worried about the most ever since the thread appeared, fearing that he would do something that would irreparably strengthen the bond… like forcing Dottore to meet her because he thought it would be best for them.

And Rho had been the one most vocal about at least letting the kids meet her and if the kids met her, he knew it would inevitably lead to Dottore meeting her and that was the last thing he wanted. 

He had a feeling that Pantalone could read right through the excuse if the unimpressed look on his face had anything to say about it but Dottore did not waver, raising his chin and staring down at where the man was sitting. 

“Unfortunately, I don’t have the resources to look for her right now,” Pantalone finally said, shaking his head and scooching his chair back to ruffle through one of the drawers of his desk. “If you can send one of your segments to take out the threat in the east, I might be able to conjure some up and have them keep an eye out but right now my hands are tied.”

“Fine,” Dottore said sharply. “Give me the information you’ve gathered. I’ll send a segment to track him down and kill him.”

Pantalone raised his eyebrows again, this time not even bothering to ask the question that Dottore knew was dancing through his mind: I thought your segments were busy, he could hear the mocking words just through the man’s expression. 

Instead, Pantalone just slid a thick folder across the desk to give to Dottore. He snatched it and tucked it under his arm, intent on passing it off to Rho before he returned to his labs, waiting for Pantalone to confirm that he would look for her.

“We don’t want him dead. We want him captured,” Pantalone warned. “Pierro wants information from him… then I’ll convince him to pass him off to you. Another test subject, you’re welcome.”

Dottore only smiled thinly. “And the girl?” he pressed.

“I’ll do what I can,” Pantalone said. “What do you know about where she is? Western or Eastern Snezhnaya? The border? I need to be able to narrow down the search, I can’t send men all across Snezhnaya with the upcoming event. I need them in the city to prepare for the arrivals of the aristocrats.” 

“I know that she is in Snezhnaya,” Dottore told him. Maybe he would know more if he would swallow his pride and reach out to her, but that simply was not an option. 

Pantalone stared at him, irritation thinly veiled behind his purple eyes. “You do not like making things easy, do you?” the corners of Pantalone’s eyes crinkled in annoyance at Dottore’s words before he finally sighed, shaking his head. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he finally repeated, “but with nothing to go on, I can make no promises that I’ll find her before someone else does… so, for all of our sakes, I suggest you try to narrow that down.”

It was cold. 

You knew that was something you should have expected and you thought you prepared adequately for it but now, you thought that no amount of preparation could have made you ready to face this. As soon as you had crossed over into Snezhnaya, the temperature had plummeted, the sheer cold was beyond anything you had ever felt before--cold enough to crack the stones of the buildings in the small villages littered throughout the countryside, cold enough to freeze you from the inside out.

Traveling during the night simply wasn’t feasible, as soon as the sun crossed the horizon, the already bone-chilling temperatures plunged further. You had been lucky the first night when you were traveling down the main road deeper into the northlands--you had bumped into an older man traveling back to his home from the one of the villages, he had ushered you back to his place and he and his wife had looked after you, warning you that you wouldn’t live through the night without shelter in Snezhnaya.

Since then, it’d been a game of survival. The deeper you got into Snezhnaya, the more winding and confusing the roads became, the harder it became to track down villages to find inns to stay at and the more nervous it made you about finding shelter for the night. You thought that Snezhnaya was a trap laid out for foreigners, only those who were born and raised there knew how to navigate the lands without meeting an untimely end. 

The tundra of the east appeared endless, a daunting venture you dared not make, and the forests of the west were dark and maze-like with dangerous creatures prowling about and the threat of getting lost and not making it to an inn before night fell was high… but the forest was the only way through to the mountain range south of the Snezhnayan capital city. If you wanted to get to the heart of the Fatui, you would have to trek through the forest and pray you stumbled upon one of the villages before the sunset. 

You exhaled, leaning back in your seat at the bar of the inn you were staying at as you swirled your empty glass between your fingers. You had reached the end of the main road, the only way further into Snezhnaya was through the forest now but the thought of entering it made you anxious. A part of you thought you might be better off heading back home. 

“Another?” the bartender questioned as he walked by you but you only shook your head, thanking him quietly as you remained lost in your own thoughts. 

You couldn’t turn back. Not now, not yet. You had promised yourself and your father that you wouldn’t return home until you had ample evidence to bring this to court… unless you died trying to get it.

Your grandfather didn’t want you going north. He thought that no amount of evidence would be worth you risking your life for but you disagreed. You didn’t think there was any world in which you’d be able to live with yourself knowing you didn’t even try. 

From the corner of your eye, you noticed that he was looking at you again--the man sitting at a table in the corner of the room. You couldn’t see his face, there was a hood masking it from view but you could feel his eyes on you, he’d been watching you for nearly thirty minutes now. A part of you wanted to confront him, grab your stuff and head over to his table and demand to know why he kept staring at you but… the more logical part of you knew you shouldn’t. You didn’t know why he was staring at you and all of the worst possibilities were running through your head:

Does he know what you’re here for?

Is he Fatui?

Is he planning on attacking you?

Your vision vibrated from where it was hidden beneath your cloak, warning you to prepare for a battle but you were not the battle type. You had never learned how to wield your vision in a combat manner and you didn’t know if he had a vision or not, you only knew that he had a large claymore set down on the seat next to him and all you had was a small blade that couldn’t even be called a sword. You had only learned to use your vision in the way your father and grandfather taught you when you were younger and it was not something you enjoyed doing to people. 

Finally, you forced yourself to stand up. Your gaze caught the window on the far end of the room as you rose to your feet--it was dark already, night had fallen and the hazard of the cold had become even more real. 

With a sharp inhale, you turned on your heel to make your way over to the table the man was sitting at. You watched as his head turned to follow you as you approached him and you watched as his body tensed, gloved fingers gripping the edge of the table tight as you slid onto the bench across from him.

“Is there a reason you keep staring at me?” you finally asked. You leaned back against the wall that the bench was placed against, feigning ease, but your legs were tense, ready to move at the first sign of an attack.

“You’re not from here,” the man said after a moment of silence, you caught a glimpse of red beneath the hood he wore. His accent was foreign--unlike the Snezhnayan dialect you’d become used to throughout your travels. 

“Neither are you,” you retorted. He shifted back in his seat, the lighting of the inn revealing equally red hair hanging in his eyes, cold and empty with something dark thinly veiled behind them that made your skin crawl--eyes that had witnessed massacre, eyes that promised vengeance. Vengeance for what? You didn’t know. You weren’t sure you wanted to know, you knew it would lead to nothing good. 

You suddenly felt as if you had made a mistake. 

“There aren’t many foreigners this deep in Snezhnaya,” he noted cooly. “Just merchants… are you a merchant?”

Somehow, you felt as if ‘yes’ was the wrong answer. 

He was accusing you of something, you could feel it in your bones but you didn’t know what he was accusing you of. Being a spy? Was he Fatui? 

“I’m not a merchant,” you said, taking in a small puff of air when you caught the blood smeared across the man’s chin and neck as the hanging lights in the middle of the tavern swayed a bit. His lips pressed together subtly at your words and your vision was becoming even more erratic--danger, danger, danger, it warned you.

Somehow, you knew now that ‘no’ had been the wrong answer too. 

“It’s hard traveling through Snezhnaya without knowing what paths to take, you can get lost easily… all of the paths on the old maps have been snowed out,” he responded. “How’d you make do?” 

“An older couple living off the main road pointed me in the right direction,” you told him. “How about you? Are you a merchant?”

You knew he wasn’t. No merchant traveled with blood staining their faces and a weapon the size of the average person. He had no goods that he had arrived with, he’d shown up at the inn a little after you had with only his sword in tow and his eyes were unfriendly and glacial, unlike the faux charisma that painted the expressions of merchants as they tried to get you to buy their products.

The man stared at you for a moment and then he said, “No,” with no further explanation.

The Fatui usually traveled in groups or as pairs. He had a foreign accent. He wore no mask or sigil that affiliated him with the organization as they usually did. Who the hell was he?

And then you remembered the hushed whispers of the elderly couple you had stayed with--warning you that the Fatui had become more active in their area because of a belligerent wreaking havoc throughout central Snezhnaya who had been spotted at a nearby inn. They told you to take care because they didn’t think that the Fatui would take kindly to any outsider in the area so long as the hostile remained terrorizing their strongholds but…

Was this…?

You watched him carefully, trying to figure it out without having to ask. You were several miles from where you had been staying with them now and it had been two and a half days. Traveling through Snezhnaya was slow and arduous, the wind fought you with every step and half of the time you were dragging yourself through snow that reached your knees. 

If this was him, then maybe… 

You didn’t even have a chance to finish the thought, head snapping to the side as the door to the inn slammed open and cold air rushed through the tavern at the entrance, blowing out half of the candles keeping the room lit up. Your stomach churned uncomfortably and from the corner of your eye, you watched as the man you were sitting with reached for his weapon. 

Who the hell was traveling in the dead of night?

Your throat felt tight as you watched another hooded figure step into the inn. You couldn’t make out his features in the dim lighting, you couldn’t even tell if he was armed or not but there was an odd vial that glowed blue even in the dark hanging from his right ear.

The bartender had paused in making a drink for one of the other patrons of the tavern, a wary look visible on his face that you caught as the chandelier swung dangerously beneath a harsh wind. You let out a shaky breath, the cold from outside was already creeping beneath your cloak and freezing your skin. You wondered why no one was shouting at him to close the damn door like they did to other people who arrived until the bartender finally spoke up, voice shaky: 

“Lord Harbinger,” he breathed out. “How can I-”

The man’s head turned in your direction--no, you realized, not your direction, his--and that was the only warning you got before the world around you exploded. 

The entire right side of his body felt like it was on fire. Dottore let out a spew of curses as his hand spasm and he dropped the vial he had been studying right to the ground, watching as the glass shattered and the silvery liquid splattered all over the floor, dissolving the tiles and eating through the ground.

Dottore exhaled, briefly shutting his eyes before looking down at the mess on the floor. His lips twisted in annoyance as he realized he was going to have to restart what he had been testing but the annoyance very quickly faded, instead shifting into confusion as the pain persisted. His gaze drew over to his arm--nothing was wrong with it on the surface level but it was a blinding type of pain that had him gritting his teeth, like a jagged blade was tearing through his bicep.

It was…

He hadn’t felt anything from her in nearly two weeks. No anxiety, no fear, no anger or sadness and certainly not any pain. He stared down at his arm, where the pain was coming from, and not for the first time since the accursed thread showed up, Dottore had no idea what to do. He thought that he should reach out to her, figure out what was going on and get a general idea of where she was so he could send one of his segments to find her. The pain was more than anything he had ever experienced through her and he wasn’t sure if it was just because she had a low pain tolerance and he was feeling what she was, or if it was because the pain was actually that bad. 

Neither boded well for her. 

But if he reached out to her, if she was fighting someone, it could distract her. 

Dottore’s teeth grit together. He didn’t know what would happen to him or the segments if she died. He didn’t know how it would affect them. Logically, he thought it shouldn’t affect them at all. They hadn’t met her yet and if the bond worked anything like how they believed it did, it shouldn’t take effect until after they met, which wasn’t going to happen… but after two weeks of silence, Dottore was unsure. Every day that passed, an odd, unfamiliar feeling expanded through his chest. He didn’t know how to describe it besides overwhelming and unwelcome but he knew it was because of her silence and the lack of communication through the bond. It caused an emptiness that made him question everything they had learned about the bond. 

And if mere silence could cause that, he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk knowing what her death would cause.

Are you okay? 

He asked it before he could decide against it, taking a seat back down at the lab table he had been working at as he waited for a response. Each second felt like an eternity, he could hear the silver liquid still eating through the ground below, sizzling and cracking as the floor dissolved wherever it touched the substance. 

He wondered if she would just ignore him like he did to her for years on end.

But then, his forearm stung--a familiar feeling that he hadn’t experienced in two weeks now. He hated how that empty feeling he hadn’t been able to get rid of since he had pushed her away immediately disappeared. It made him feel weak… as if he had no control over his own emotions like a puppet on a string being commanded by a stranger. He glanced down at his arm, red eyes flying over the words that had appeared.

Does it feel like I’m okay?

At once, he rolled his eyes, regretting reaching out to her. He rose to his feet again, pacing across the room to get the tools he needed to clean the mess of his mistake but before he even got halfway there, the pain tripled and a creeping fear began to spread through his chest. He grimaced as he leaned on a nearby counter, trying to regain control over himself but he found that he couldn’t--her fear and pain was simply too intense.

What happened? 

He slid down against the counter he was leaning on until he was sat on the floor. He watched the silvery liquid from the corner of his eye, watching as it ate through the ground closer and closer to him as he waited for a response from her. He despised how he couldn’t compartmentalize her feelings. He had learned how to separate them from his and the other segments but he had never figured out how to store them away and convert them into something that was easier for him to process. 

Attacked. 

Dottore felt cold. His gaze drew over to the window on the opposite wall of his lab--it was dark out, the sun had long set and the wind was harsh. He wondered if the coldness was a result of the damning realization that she was in trouble or if it was because she was outside. Either way, Dottore needed to act--if she was still being attacked, he had to get one of the segments there and if she was stuck in the cold running after being attacked, she would die to nature.

Dottore tried to push away the rising anger--the fury that never failed to appear whenever he was put into an impossible situation because of this bond, whenever he felt like the gods were looking down at him and laughing as he played right into their sick games. 

Who attacked you? Where are you?

He shot out questions to her at a rapid speed, the pain was getting worse on his end. He could feel a light-headedness and a fuzzy feeling beginning to seep through his body and mind. She had to be losing blood and too much of it. If she passed out, that would be the end. She’d be killed by the attacker or she’d be killed by the cold, there was no other fate that awaited her. 

Don’t know. An inn at -------

Dottore stared at the indecipherable words branded onto his forearm--he wasn’t sure if they were scribbles or an ancient language that he just couldn’t understand, another way for the gods to laugh at him by dangling the answer wants right in front of his face but making it so that he couldn’t understand it. 

What do you mean you don’t know? Figure it out.

Dottore wondered if she could sense his irritation at her response. He didn’t really care if she could, maybe it would make her think harder. 

Fatui, finally scrawled itself on his forearm and Dottore thought he might want to throw something because he had called it the moment that he had realized she might be coming north, he knew that between her being a foreigner and their subordinates being anxious over the masked hostile running through their camps that something would happen. They called him Lord Harbinger. 

Dottore stared at the words trying to piece together what was going on. Lord Harbinger? Pulcinella and Pantalone were rarely, if ever, sent on missions that would end in combat. As far as he was aware, Brighella was at Zapolyarny Palace working with Pierro on something. Capitano was traveling north from Natlan for the initiation of the new Harbinger in a few days, he’d be on a boat traveling the western sea. Scaramouche? It could-

He had a blue earring, it was bright.

A blue earring, he was acutely aware of the one hanging from his own ear, mind racing as he tried to remember where each of the segments were. Lambda and Theta were in Sumeru. Zeta was in Mondstadt. Delta and Iota were on the Fontaine border. Gamma, Epsilon and Kappa were all hanging around his labs. 

Rho, it dawned on Dottore suddenly. He had sent the segment south to track down the belligerent because their subordinates had proved incapable. He had mentioned that he was closing in on the man. Had she gotten caught in the crossfire? Was she traveling with him? 

No, that wasn’t possible. All reports had claimed that the hostile was traveling alone.

Rho, Dottore spit out, reopening the connection with the segment, intent on having him find the girl and drag her back across the border into Fontaine. Where are you?

Not now, Rho responded, voice cold and angry. It took a lot to anger Rho, he had tight control over his temper unlike the Theta and Delta segments. Dottore could feel something stinging his cheek, a cut--he wondered if the hostile had actually managed to land a blow on him, no matter how small. It would explain why he was so angry. 

Get back to where you came from. Now.

Now? Rho demanded, livid. I’m on him. 

She was there. At the inn. The reaction was instantaneous as Rho’s resolve wavered. If she dies because of you, you won’t even get the relief of deactivation.

Dottore rose to his feet again once he was certain that Rho had turned back, pacing across the length of his lab, careful to step over the melted ground where the substance had fallen. 

Once he found her, this would all be over. He’d have Rho bring her back to Fontaine whether she liked it or not, and once he knew where she lived, he’d make sure to send one of the other segments to keep an eye on her so something like this would never happen again.

Finally, he would have some semblance of control over the bond for the first time since it appeared. He’d no longer be hanging onto her whims, he’d no longer have to stress about her getting herself hurt or killed and how it would affect him, he’d no longer be bound to this mess and he’d never have to worry about accidentally running into her because the segment would keep her confined to the city and he would stay far from it.

He’d send the Zeta segment. He couldn’t send Theta because he didn’t trust him not to do something rash. He couldn’t send Delta, Rho or Epsilon because the younger segments were attached to them at the hip and they would press to meet her. Lambda was an option if he could ensure that the segment wouldn’t try to ‘handle her’ as he threatened to already. 

Relief began to inch its way through him—too soon.

He had jinxed himself.

She’s not here, he heard Rho tell him. I don’t know-

Dottore closed the connection, biting back vile curses as he pressed his fingers to the bridge of the nose and tried to think. 

Where could she have gone? It had only been a few minutes. She was hurt. She couldn’t have gotten far. 

Where are you? He finally decided to ask her and he waited, and waited, and waited for a response but was only met with the empty silence he had become accustomed to the past two weeks. 

“Where am I?” 

Your eyes followed the cloaked figure carefully, trying to keep your breath steady as the pain coursing through your arm gradually subsided. Your gaze flickered to the side, watching as the red, bubbling skin of your right arm began to smooth and clear beneath whatever substance that had been smeared over the burns. 

“What is this stuff?”

You had a lot of experience with using elemental energy to heal wounds. Fontaine City had some of the best medics throughout Teyvat--Wriothesley’s family’s special trait could call upon hydro energy to heal even the most fatal and grievous of wounds. He had never been able to wield it the way his family wanted him to but his grandfather was the best of the best, he had helped you when you had broken your arm and leg ten years ago after falling down the steps of the clocktower when exploring with Wrio.

This was not elemental energy. It was odd and cool, like gelatin, but it worked as fast as any medic--in no time, the pain was gone and the burns had vanished, leaving the skin of your arm unblemished again.

“Old magics,” the person responded. Their voice was low, androgynous. You couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman.

“Why did you help me?” you asked. “Who are you?”

You didn’t know where you were now--it was a dark room, a stone building with a fireplace on the opposite wall. The last you remembered, you had been in the snow. You had started to lose consciousness, the cold and the pain too much for your body to bear. You could barely even remember what had happened: you could picture the hooded man who you had been sitting with brandishing his claymore and the man that they had called Lord Harbinger meeting him blade for blade, pale fire coating his weapon and eating away at the wood of the inn, burning through your cloak down to the skin. You could hear the screams of the other patrons of the inn as they got caught in the crossfire of the battle between the two men. 

And then you were here, in this room… with this person. 

“Who are you?” you demanded, more insistently this time when you didn’t get a response.

Finally, a reaction from them. The flames flickered across their face as they turned to face you and finally, you got a glimpse beneath the hood… but it was not a human face that stared back at you. It was a mask, dark with a spade-like pattern around the eyes, a smile painted onto the plastic. 

“No one,” they replied, “just a trouper.”

What? You thought to yourself, confused. Your nose wrinkled and your brows furrowed as you mulled over the word. A trouper? Like the entertainers at the Grand Theater? 

“Why did you help me?” you tried again, raising your chin to meet the two voids in the eyeholes of the mask. They hadn’t tried to bind you or restrict your movement, they hadn’t even taken your weapon--just a bit of concentration and you could put yourself in control of the situation. 

They tilted their head to the side, you couldn’t see their eyes or expression but you knew they were smiling, “Is that how you treat someone who saved you?”

You hadn’t even moved, you stared at them, unmoving, forcing your body to relax. How had they known what you were thinking? You weren’t a person that was easy to read--if you were, you would’ve been put on trial for treason a long time ago. 

“Why did you save me?” you asked slowly, not letting them get out of answering the question. 

“Because I want to help you.” 

Yet again, they evaded the question. Your lips twisted in frustration, “Why?”

“Because I think we can help each other.”

There it was, you recognized, taking in a sharp breath. They wanted something from you. The air around you suddenly felt cold, as if the fire across the room had been snuffed out even though it was still burning bright. They were eerily still, almost like a statue as they watched you, waiting for a reaction. 

“Why do you think that?” you asked carefully.

“Do you really think you can infiltrate the Fatui on your own?”

You were on your feet in an instant, reaching for the blade sheathed at your side but your eyes widened when you realized it wasn’t there. You only had half of a second to react before you found yourself backed up against the wall, a forearm pressed to your throat and the tip of your own blade pressed to your side, threatening to puncture the skin.

It had just been on you. How did they get it?

“Well?”

Well what? You wanted to scream, mind panicked and racing as you tried to force yourself to calm down and think but it was hard to concentrate with your air being half-restricted and a blade pressed to your ribcage. 

They wanted you to answer their question, you realized, about infiltrating the Fatui.

“Yes,” you said but you weren’t even sure you believed it yourself. You kept telling yourself that you would figure out a plan once you got to the city and had a scope of the area and more information available to you but you had a feeling that nothing would change even once there. Zapolyarny Palace would be impenetrable. 

“How?” they murmured, not letting up on you. You wanted to turn your face away, unnerved by the proximity of the mask, but you thought that would show you as weak and you couldn’t afford to show weakness, not right now. “Do you plan to storm the palace? Face the Harbingers and demand retribution for your father? Do you think you will fly under the radar of the Knave’s webs of spiders? That you can simply walk past the automatons of the Marionette prowling the streets of the capital city? You will find yourself a victim of the Doctor’s twisted experiments or the Friar’s sick games before you even hope to find the evidence you seek.” 

You couldn’t mask your expression, not after hearing that. You stared at them, lips parting as if to speak but no words left them. You felt like a fish out of water--for the first time in a long time, you were fumbling for words, your tongue felt twisted and heavy.

How were you going to do it? The question laid atop you like a crown of thorns, tearing through your skin and scarring your face. You didn’t know. You didn’t know how you were going to do it. You used not being in the city as an excuse, convinced yourself that it was the only reason you haven’t thought up a plan yet but the truth was branded right on your face as you stared at the masked person: you simply didn’t know.

“I can help you,” they whispered, leaning in impossibly closer. “I can give you your in, the chance you need to find the proof.”

“How do you know all of this?” you finally asked and you hated how your voice cracked over your words but you were scared because if this person knew all of this then it could spell your end, just like that. All they had to do was send word to the Fatui and you’d have hell bearing down on your doors.

And if they knew about this…

“I know a lot,” they said cryptically. “Would you like me to help you?”

… did they know about your soulmate?

You let out another shaky breath, staring ahead. You didn’t know what to do. If you didn’t accept their help, would they sell you out to the Fatui? Or would they laugh and watch as you fumbled your way through Snezhnayan courts and fail to acquire what you had traveled all this way for? You could feel the pain ricocheting through your head, you could barely even think straight, much less come up with an answer. 

If you did accept, you finally forced your head back on track, what did they want in return? That was what you needed to know.

“What would you want in return?”

“We don’t know yet,” they said quietly but their tone was not hesitant--if anything, it was amused. Finally, they released you, taking a step back to watch you. The eyes staring down at you were empty, like looking into an abyss.

A dangerous, dangerous gamble. It gave them too much power.

“No, I want to know what you want in return.”

We. You suddenly recognized how they referred to themself--we, not I, they were not working alone. You felt all the more suffocated at the realization. 

“Then I guess we have no deal,” they said with a sigh, making a move to leave the room the two of you were in. Your heart leapt to your throat. “I cannot tell you what we do not know. Take the deal as is or fail, you will not succeed without help. You have no way of getting into Zapolyarny Palace. It is impenetrable.”

You should take that as a challenge, tell them fuck off and make them watch as you succeeded. Your blood boiled at the condescending tone and it took all of your willpower to not snap at them. 

This was not the time for pride. You had to abandon all vices and virtues if you were to get the evidence to condemn your stepfather, if you were to bring justice to your father… and if this person were to offer you the chance you desperately needed… then maybe it was worth whatever price they wanted you to pay in the long run. 

Committing injustices in the name of justice, the thought rang through your head loud. Wrio would love the irony. 

“You can get me into Zapolyarny?” you finally questioned, hiding the way your hands were shaking behind you as you sealed your fate. 

They hummed in agreement, “You will be on your own once you’re in there. Take care not to anger the wrong people… or draw too much attention to yourself.”

You could do that, you told yourself. Once you got in, you needed to find a place. Weasel your way in as an attendant so you could search for the evidence you needed. 

“Okay,” you finally agreed. The air suddenly felt heavy and oppressive, you thought that if you looked up, you would see the blade of a guillotine dropping on your neck. “Okay, we have a deal.”

You didn’t have to see their face to know that they were smiling, the voids staring down at you glimmered cruelly, you swore you saw red deep within the eyeholes of the mask.

“Welcome to the game, spadille.”

rbs appreciated!!

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑-𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑

˗ˏˋ main masterlist ˎˊ˗

pairing(s) — counselor!JACK HUGHES x counselor!reader word count — 1.4k

note — i was (and still am) super proud of how i executed this concept, and i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoy re-reading it!

recommended viewing — friday the 13th (1980), fear street: 1978 (2021)

bingo squares and additional content warnings below the cut.

bingo squares — sex in water, risky location/exhibitionism, and fear play additional content warnings — a few jokes about death/dying and murder, rather short n tame ("vanilla") barely-there spice from me???, jack being a little shithead (and a little switchy omg), a smidge of angst, and spoopy ending... (kevin heimbach hive rise!)

“Y’know, for someone who is so paranoid about being caught, you sure scream like you aren’t.”

The lake smacks Jack Hughes’ chest just moments before the true expulsion of annoyance. The succinct burst of emotion is pre-packaged into a lame wave. One that only stokes his predisposition for button-pushing—hers being a personal favorite target of his.

“Y'know, for someone so desperate to get laid, you sure do everything to guarantee the only thing you'll be fucking is your hand."

Jack's jaw unhinges as if making ample room for whatever semi-clever perverted retort is bound to manifest, but it slams shut prematurely. His only response is a strained whimper accompanying an audible gulp.

Wide eyes bulging, his gaze never leaves the woody shore at your back.

"J-Jack, I'm serious. Cut it out. Right now."

Your blunt, conduct code-mandated nails slice their way through the sunburnt skin of his shoulders—the much-deserved consequence of brushing off the sunscreen you offered him prior to his afternoon shift at the canoes.

He hisses, mostly out of irritation, but keeps otherwise mum.

Unwittingly, further panic stirs in your gut at that, sending your tense face into his waiting chest.

"I-It's not funny—it never was. And it's absolutely not now, e-either. Please, Jack. Just, just knock it off, o-okay?"

"Or what, babe?"

His husky voice carries across the water and the trees rustle in response.

You loathe the way that innocuous noise shoves you deeper into his embrace, clutching onto his lithe, toned form like he isn't the instigator of your palpable distress.

"Stop pretending you see him, or I'll... I'll... —"

Any threat you could've come up with would've been hollow at best, you both know it. Even if you weren't strung out from a full day of covert teasing and stolen glances, your fear of what might lurk in the shadowy depths between you and the dock would be more than enough to keep you firmly planted.

Jack set himself up with yet another perfectly easy jump-scare, but as you helplessly cling to him like a soggy kitten at the mere implication of danger, he's presented with a better, more delicious opportunity to burrow under your thin skin.

Oh, how he lives to make you squirm.

Soft lips lower to your ear, "Is that really what you want? Because I don't think the lake's the only reason my dick is soaked."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Hughes."

You try and avoid his X-ray vision, but it doesn't matter. It hardly ever does.

"Really? Well, allow me to enlighten you, hm?"

His tone has you rolling your eyes even though he can't see them.

Jack holds you tighter, sharply bucking his hips until you whine, before he whispers, "I think you like when I scare you—or, at least, your pussy does. The poor thing, gushin' and squeezin' whenever you jump for me. Every damn time, babe. I damn near thought you'd squirted last time I got ya that good."

You grumble because he's right. Only about your physical reaction, of course. Definitely not the other things.

You definitely did not enjoy being scared shitless, and you definitely did not squirt when he pretended something—or someone—was pulling him under. You'd be damned if your first time doing that came at the hand of such juvenile flippancy.

"Quit talking and fuck me, Hughes. We don't have all night; Alice still isn't over the nightmares."

Every year, there was always one of those campers, and, this year, Alice was that one. A kid so freaked out by local legend that you have to wonder how their parent or guardian managed to get them up here in the first place. Or, why anyone thought sending them up into the mountains for the summer was a good idea to begin with.

It never takes long for the nightmares to start. Especially once the inaugural midnight bonfire passes and the sightings start making the rounds. Wind-carried screams, a flash of metal, the too-thick drip off of the leaves, torn flesh...

Everything in graphic detail, and every detail insomnia fodder at its peak.

If a camper lucked out, they had a counselor they could attach themselves to in the wee hours of the morning as they shook through waves of fear. Alice weaseled her way into your bunk every night this past week, bottom lip trembling as tears streamed down her face, always rambling about the same thing: a silent killer in a cheap mask wielding long, menacing blade.

Nightly, while you've donned a brave face, it's been as genuine as the plastic allegedly worn by the personified cautionary tale. Because, once upon a time, you had been that camper, too—and Jack had a front-row seat to your adolescent terror.

To this day, he finds your ardent belief in the legend a point of amusement.

He won't be laughing, though, when Alice finds your bunk empty and runs crying to the supervisor cabin, thinking you'd been the latest victim—the first in thirty years.

If you're going down, you're dragging jack hughes down with you. He can explain to your parents why you're home two months early—and unemployed.

His forehead falls to your shoulder, wafts of damp hair tickling the bare skin as he groans. Jack never bothers masking his ire. "That snot-nosed third grader is the last thing I want to think about when I'm balls-deep. Total boner-killer, babe."

"Jason Vorhees is the last thing I want to think about right now, but you never seem to care about that, do you?" you growl.

Your ankles tighten around his waist at just the thought of the camp's very own boogeyman.

If you were smart, you'd stop hooking up with the one person dead-set on sending you to an early grave all for a laugh.

The apparent inevitability of your trysts wasn't for a lack of options. No, every year there was plenty. But every year, Jack Hughes was the only peer you snuck out for.

After that many midnights, you would think his recycled material would lose its edge. Unfortunately for you, that's yet to happen.

You tug on a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck. He nips at your throat in retaliation; you don't have the confidence to tell him you like that, too.

"Fine, fine," he laments, eyes pinched shut and wincing. "Truce?"

"Truce," you nod and relinquish your tight grip. "Now, make me cum."

"Yes, ma'am."

"See? I told you it was fine. No wandering campers, no prying Visors," Jack hums, an arm looped around your shoulders. "And no hockey masks or machetes, either."

Your soft, grudging giggle harmonizes with the cicadas.

When you reach your cabin, he pecks your damp temple. "You should trust me more often."

You knew once you caved to the lake idea, he'd never let it go, but you'd be remiss if you said it didn't turn you on just as much as it did him. That, however, doesn't mean you're eager for an encore any time soon.

Next summer, perhaps. If he played his cards right.

"Yeah, right," you snort while eclipsing the two meager steps with him on your heels.

His ego is beginning to rub you the wrong way as your post-orgasm bliss fades. Still, you can't resist pulling him closer now that no one else is around.

Kiss-swollen lips ghosting over his, you whisper, "Over my dead body."

His eyes go dark; a rare flicker of concern. "Don't say shit like that, babe, you'll jinx it... And i've still got so much planned for your body."

"Well, it's a good thing you've got an entire summer, isn't it?"

"Only because you won't let me touch you outside of Camp Nightwing," jack huffs, mostly under his breath. His jaw is too tight, but his voice is louder, "Just think of what i could do with the other nine months."

He doesn't bother disguising the bitterness weighing on his voice or his conscience, and that alone is enough to make you skittish. It hurts to swallow, and the mounting nausea certainly isn't helping, but it's a necessary evil to rid yourself of the lump clawing up your throat.

Jack Hughes talks a big game, but that's all it'll ever be. A game.

You won't make the same mistake twice.

"Get lost before you wake my campers, Hughes." You wave your hand dismissively as you take a step back—and out of his magnetic field. "We've got a big day tomorrow."

He drops the complaint as easily as he championed it.

"I'm going, I'm going." Jack raises his hands in surrender, laughing as he backs away from the porch. "Wouldn't want to rob the little boogers of their last moments of peace before my reigning Color War champs kick their asses—for the fifth consecutive year."

Your reluctant affection glimmers in the moonlight as you shake your head. "I hate you so much."

"No, you don't!" Jack calls over his towel-clad shoulder.

You're still smiling when the screen door smacks the dilapidated wooden frame.

As his jubilant footsteps fade down the path and you settle in your bunk, a large shadow slips between the moon and the cabin's front window.

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[wonbriiize]

pairing; wonbin x reader

genre; fluff, friends to lovers

warnings; a bit of cursing, mentions of blood + a few other (small) horror related things

note; it‘s a bit long again i‘m sorry ㅠㅠ i think i just have a habit of writing a lot lmao,, anyway thank you guys already for taking the time to read this <3

for you

in which you go to the amusement park with your friends and you decide to go into the haunted house as pairs. although one of your friends (wonbin) is scared of it, he pulls himself together because he doesn’t want you to go with anyone else…

“come on, it’s going to be so much fun. let’s go in pairs of two!” you suggest excitedly.

“then i‘m going to go with sohee,” seunghan puts his arm around his best friend who nods in agreement. shotaro and sungchan look at each other, already declaring that they’re the second pair. “i really don’t want to go with anton,” eunsok rolls his eyes in annoyance. anton laughs, knowing that eunsok is just joking. they love teasing each other. “oh, stop lying, there’s no one else you’d rather go with than me.” “well, if that thought makes you sleep at night..” eunsok can’t help but to smile.

you look over to wonbin who looks like he would rather jump off a cliff then to go inside the haunted house. shit, you had forgotten that he’s afraid of those things.

“wonbin, you probably don’t want to go, right?” sungchan asks him. everybody knows that wonbin is scared of horror related things.

wonbin shakes his head. “not really. i will just wait outside.”

“then who’s going to go with *y/n*?” shotaro looks over to you, feeling sorry since you don’t have a partner.

“i love haunted houses so i don’t mind going twice,” anton says, smiling over to you. “wouldn’t it be too boring for you the second time?” it was a very nice thought of anton but you don’t want him to feel like he’s wasting his time. anton shrugs. “no, it’s fine. i’ll keep myself entertained with laughing at you for being scared.” “this won’t happen, i don’t get scared easily,” you stick your tongue out to anton and he laughs.

throughout your whole conversation with anton, wonbin kept watching the two of you. he isn’t going to let that happen. if anyone should go with you, it should be him. he decides that his love for you is bigger than his fear of haunted houses.

“i changed my mind, i will go with *y/n*,” wonbin announces, stepping forward.

it’s an understatement to say that everyone was shocked. no, everyone was more than just shocked. sungchan almost chokes on the juice he is drinking right now. “park wonbin is this really you?”

wonbin looks confused with everyone’s reactions. “okay, it’s no biggie, you all can stop acting like this.” “i think this isn’t wonbin, he probably got abducted by aliens and this is just a clone or something,” seunghan actually looks terrified. wonbin smacks his head lightly. “oh, get a grip! so are we doing this or not?”

everyone was still pretty shocked, but you guys nod and start walking to the haunted house.

pair after pair, all of you go inside. first it was seunghan and sohee‘s turn. when they walk out of it, seunghan was laughing but sohee seriously looks like he has seen real ghosts inside. it is the same with shotaro and sungchan. sungchan has the biggest smile on his face but shotaro keeps clinging onto him because he is actually afraid.

after eunseok and anton come out, wonbin and you get ready to go inside.

eunsok and anton both don’t look that bothered so it gives you a good feeling that you won’t be that scared either (you have the same horror tolerance as the two of them). wonbin on the other hand is trying to control himself so no one sees how scared he already is.

“you know some of them run after you with fake knives,” eunseok whispers once we walk past them.

“are you serious?” wonbins eyes look like they might fall out.

eunseok doesn’t reply anything, he just winks and leaves wonbin and you alone in front of the haunted house.

you take a look at wonbin and notice how he’s trying his best to look calm, but he’s failing miserably. his expression is exposing that he’s afraid.

when wonbin feels you intertwining your arms together, he instantly feels at ease. you notice that, which makes you smile.

“ready?”

“no, but let’s go,” wonbin takes one last deep breath and you two start walking into the haunted house.

it’s so dark you guys can barely see anything. there’s something hanging down from the roof, it looks like a spiderweb. all of sudden, you feel something on your head and you scream, scaring wonbin as well. he starts screaming with you.

“WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING??”

“THERE IS SOMETHING ON MY HEAD TAKE IT AWAY!!”

you stop screaming when wonbin pulls you closer. he looks over your head. “there is nothing.” “i swear i felt something.”“well whatever it was, it’s gone now,” wonbin steps back but you notice that he’s holding your hand. trying to play it cool, you clear your throat. “okay let’s move on.”

both of you walk, hand in hand, further into the haunted house. sometimes, there’s a few jumpscares which makes you both scream, but so far, there’s nothing too scary in this haunted house. even wonbin is doing fine.

“it’s not that bad actually,” he says. “i know right. it’s kind of fun,” you admit. “why did you change your mind though?”

“what do you mean?”

“why did you decide that you wanted to go into the haunted house too?”

this question catches wonbin offguard. he takes a few minutes to answer. “do you want me to be honest?”

okay, you think, this is getting deep now. you didn’t expect him to be that serious.

“uhm.. yeah?”

wonbin stops walking and turns around to you, still holding your hand.

“it’s ‘cause i didn’t want anyone else to go with you,” he admits, looking straight into your eyes. “it’s either me or no one. i changed my mind to prove to you that this is how much i like you.. i‘m willing to face my fears for you.”

now this catches you offguard.

wonbin has never said something like that ever before to you. sure, you did think that maybe there’s something true about what the guys have said to you.. wonbin likes you, they said. like, when sungchan came up to you a while ago and said that whenever anyone of them mentions your name, wonbin starts having the biggest smile on his face. of course he tries to hide it but he’s very bad at doing so.

another time, shotaro sat down next to you on the couch and whispered that wonbin has a crush on you. of course you thought that he was joking, but shortly after that, wonbin squeezed himself between the two of you. there was literally no space left but wonbin still didn’t care.

so yeah, you have thought about the possibility of him liking you.. you just never thought that it’s actually true.

the second you open your mouth to say something, your eyes wander to what’s standing right behind wonbin; a clown. smeared with blood all over his face. grinning like crazy. walking closer to you and wonbin.

you start screaming. “OH MY GOD.”

“okay well, you don’t need to make it that obvious that you don’t like me in that way,” wonbin looks down, letting go of your hand.

“SHUT UP AND LOOK,” you grab his shoulders, turning him around so he can see the bloody clown that‘s walking towards you two.

wonbin might have let out a scream that was even louder than yours.

“HOLY SHIT,” he turns back around to you.

you grab his hand. “RUN!”

the two of you start running, not looking back. you don’t even know if the clown is still chasing you, but you don’t care. running while holding hands with wonbin might just be your favorite thing in the world now. he‘s much faster than you so it’s hard for you to keep up with him, but he’s not letting you behind, he’s keeping you close.

arriving at the end of the haunted house, you both stop running. a person wearing a ghost costume approaches you, thanking you both for visiting the haunted house.

walking out of it, you guys are still holding hands. you secretly hope that wonbin will never let go. you don’t want him to.

“thank you for doing this,” you say. “for facing your fears.”

wonbin smiles, but he’s avoiding your gaze.

“this just made me like you way more than i did before. and i already liked you a lot.”

now, wonbin looks at you. his eyes are sparkling. he can’t believe what you just said.

“for you, i would do everything.”

he bends down to give you a short kiss, which leaves you wanting more. you want to keep him this close forever.

“but i won’t ever go to a haunted house again,” wonbin says, smirking against your lips before he kisses you again.

[darylscarollolz]

LOST TIME

Carl Grimes x Reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings:

Summary: Carls been avoiding his “best friend” for days. It’s time for a confrontation.

Word count: 781

Carl had been avoiding me for days, I could tell. I think everyone could tell. It seemed like one day we were perfectly fine and the next he could barely even look me in the eyes. I racked my brain for anything I could have done to maybe upset him or put him off but nothing could come to mind. And I mean nothing.

Carl and I had been close friends for as long as I can remember. Ever since the beginning of the apocalypse we were close. And as time went on we only got closer. At least; until last week. The two of us had been hanging out watching the sunset, talking. Like usual. There was nothing different about this day than any other day. We talked about everything under the moon, family, friends, love, everything. And the next day, bam, he just started avoiding me. Carl refused to even make eye contact.

That’s how I found myself in the situation I’m in now. Anxiously waiting for Rick to grab Carl for me. It had gotten to the point where I needed to talk to him. For my own sanity.

He was reluctant to come down, It was easy to tell by the time it took Rick to coax him down. when he was, however, standing infront of me his gaze was at our feet.

“Hey..” was all he could muster.

“Hey..” I swallowed hard, trying to think of the best way to bring the topic up without upsetting him (in case I had done anything wrong). “Can we talk for a moment.. just us? It’ll be quick.” Again Carl seemed reluctant but in the end nodded. Following me as I walked to a more secluded area for the two of us to talk.

“What do you wanna talk about?” Carls voice was weak, nervous almost.

“You have no idea?” It was a genuine question on my end. “None at all?”

“I might…”

“Should you start or should I?” His lack of an answer told me that I was going to be the one to have to start. “It feels like you’ve been avoiding me.. for the last few days.” I even gave him a moment to say something, but he didn’t. “And I’m sorry if I upset you somehow, if there was anything I did but-“ I was cut off, partially by surprise of him shaking his head. A soft “no” falling past his lips.

“No?” I questioned, an eye brow raised in confusion

“You didn’t upset me..” his eyes never left the ground beneath him, staring at his boots. “I just…” a sigh slipped past his lips as he forced himself to look up. Our eyes meeting for the first time all week.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you..”

“That doesn’t answer why, though. I don’t know what I did to make you want to avoid me.”

“It’s nothing you did… I just..” there was another deep sigh as he shut his eyes and gathered himself “I’ve been getting scared..”

“Of me?” I almost laughed.

“No not of you… well yes of you.. it’s complicated”

“Well could you try to explain?” I could feel my own annoyance peaking as he was trying to avoid the topic, not as a whole, more trying to avoid the center of the topic

“Look… y/n… I really like you and being your friend is the best thing that’s ever happened to me but..” he paused for a moment, as if formulating his words “recently I’ve realized that maybe that appreciation I have for you is less friendly than I thought..” he stopped again, searching for a reaction. When he didn’t get one, he continued. “I realized I was starting to feel more romantic feelings for you…” the next words came out like it was him just spitting it all out “and I know you don’t feel the same and that kind of scares me but I don’t want to force you into anything because I really do like you and-“

“Carl.” With a firm tone I cut him off. I could see the fear across his eyes as he swallowed. Looking from my eyes down to his feet. “I like you too” he looked almost as if he would double over, his breath catching in his throat

“What…”

“I like you” i repeated, laughing softly at his shocked state

“Say it again.. please”

“Jesus Carl, I like you” I took a step closer, gently taking his hand in mine “I wish you’d just told me instead of avoiding me..”

“Yeah…” he nodded, his eyes trailing from our linked hands up to my eyes “can we make up for the lost time?”

————————————————————————

Yay first fic done! I’m hoping and praying it’s alright. I haven’t written stuff in awhile and I’m always looking to improve. I wanted my first post to be fluffy so here we go :)

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

just a thought, I feel like the song "surface pressure" is a perfect fit for Romeo

Just as Leo at some point felt the weight of everyone on his shoulders and felt useless if he were to fail, Romeo now feels the same burden of being the oldest of all his brothers and cousins even if his parents assure him that is not the case.

For sure he does! He is his father’s son, and that can be curse and a blessing.

Romeo is a skilled fighter, no doubt about it, but I could easily see him getting so caught up in being the perfect kid, that he at one point might accidentally alienate himself from the others.

We have to remember that Romeo’s pressure doesn’t just come from being the oldest - and the oldest som of the leader at that - but also that his birth was this thing that shouldn’t really have happened, but it did, making everybody realize, that it could in fact be possible for them to have children as well. Romeo’s conception was the start of the domino effect, that led to his cousins and siblings (also in real life. He was the first of the children I came up with. With the rest I always had in mind that Romeo was there, so they wouldn’t have to care too much about being the oldest).

Romeo is very much under a lot of pressure, and that is partly why he has so much tension with Marcello at times. Romeo gets a lot of praise from their father - praise which Marcello really wants as well - but I could also imagine that Romeo might be defensive of this praise. If he isn’t told he is the best, then who is he? Is he a failure? Is he not as good as he thought, nor “worthy” of being the oldest.

It’s a stark contrast to how Joan is with her siblings. She can be tough at times, but that is also because her father is tough as nails. She is skilled, but she doesn’t have the same pressure, nor does she feel a need for the same praise. Often times she will stay back and watch what her siblings does, but on the occasions that she steps in and takes leadership of them, she does it for a short time. She doesn’t feel the need to be a boss at all time, though she may come across as bossy at times.

While Romeo trains, Joan might use training as a way to teach her siblings a thing or two. Both Minerva and Ragnar struggles a bit with fear and self esteem, so she takes the time with them. In these times failure is okay, and at times even needed.

Romeo in the other hand doesn’t train his siblings in the same way, mainly because he doesn’t. Could it be because he views his father as the best teacher? Maybe. Is it because he fears that failing his brothers’ training could cost not just his own status as the oldest golden, but could led to them getting seriously hurt? Could be.

We are just now seeing Romeo’s first growing obsession outside of training and his role as the oldest - that unnamed girl broke his kneecap in. And already now we’re seeing to different reasons from Romeo. First time he met her, he was calmer. It was his first patrol. He didn’t know what to expect. Even while he was in pain and shock, he told what had happened and what he saw. Second time however, Romeo has a much stronger reaction to her. Anger, annoyance and a strong need for some form of revenge, leading him to swearing that one day he will get a hold of her and make her pay. A little bit of a strong reaction from Romeo’s side, even for Marcello’s standards.

One would think that hot tempered and easily emotionally bruised Marcello might have such a reaction to that girl, but he doesn’t. He gets mad when he realizes it’s the girl that caused his brother pain, but other than that, he just feels conflicted. He doesn’t like the way Romeo reacts to her, and he doesn’t like the way he himself feels about her. And for the first time, we see Romeo and Marcello almost switch places. While Marcello retreats and stays quiet, which is rare for situations like that, Romeo is openly angry. It was more than just his knee that got damaged that night.

Did I just do a character analysis of my own oc?…

[mashithamel]

When I first heard Rand would be working in a sanitarium in season 2 and he’d have a friend named Errol, I was kind of annoyed. Why would they spend precious time in a location and on a character that aren’t in the books, when there is so much ground to cover and so many characters to introduce?

But they used this setting and this character so economically, and so efficiently, that I have been completely converted. They didn’t waste a moment of screentime for Errol, and in only a few minutes justified his creation as a terrific vehicle for exposition and to introduce so many important concepts.

As soon as Rand walks in the door we’re introduced to the Aiel War (specifically—I means we got Blood Snow last season but it wasn’t put in a lot of context). We get a personal view into how much Cairhein specifically was affected by it (the effects of which are mentioned a couple more times this season), as well as giving it a relative timeframe—Errol is much older than Rand, so it wasn’t just a few years ago.

We are reminded that Rand looks like the Aiel even with shaving his head, reminding us about his adoption and that he’s an outsider. Here in Cairhein, even when people know and like him, the citizens are likely to have a gut reaction of surprise or fear when they first see him, something that may contribute to his difficulties ruling the place down the road. We are reminded that they are considered fierce fighters, and introduce that their women also fight and are considered deadly.

We are introduced to sword forms! We didn’t get Lan training Rand in either season (although it sounds like we will finally get it next season!), so it’s nice to learn he’s been getting at least some introductory training if he’s going to be a blademaster eventually. It’s also very consistent with the books for Rand to take advantage of opportunities to learn whatever and from whoever he can. We’re reminded about Rand’s heron-marked blade (before it does its important thing and melts in episode 8) and make the connection that it is carried by blademasters.

So importantly, we see how kind Rand is. He clearly knows and likes this crazy old man who’s calling for the guards. He speaks to him kindly without a trace of annoyance that they’re having the same conversation they do everyday (anyone who cares for people with dementia can probably understand that is really hard at times!). He puts Errol’s shoes on for him. This isn’t quite washing feet, which Biblically speaking is an act of humbling one’s self, but it’s definitely the sort of thing you wouldn’t expect the Promised One to be doing routinely. Right now it’s his job to do, but he does it with the care and compassion you might have for an elderly family member. He defends and comforts Errol when another employee is cruel. At heart Rand is kind and loving. Killing, ordering executions, sending people into danger where some will definitely die are all things he will need to do as Dragon Reborn, and his struggle with this will inform a large part of his arc over the next few seasons.

We see the inequality of the Cairheinin system (and then more blatently at the dinner party). Unsurprisingly the Cairheinin separate their health care by wealth and power, and it sounds like the poor ones may not even have a garden to walk around in? The Two Rivers doesn’t really have this type of inequality, and some of the first things Rand does in the books as the Dragon Reborn is make the elite start treating the poor and lower classes more fairly.

And of course we get PTSD and mental illness. Both PTSD and fears of going mad are important for Rand later, so this early introduction helps define the stakes for him.

It was such a short scene, and I’m sure there are other details those with more skill could expand on (the horse that Rand sets upright? the color palate?). I just really appreciated how much the writers crammed into an original character to help lay the groundwork not just for this season but for seasons (hopefully) to come.

[acdxzhh]

Darry And Ponyboy In Chapter 1:

“If I had thought about it, I could have called Darry and he would have come by on his way home and picked me up, or Two-Bit Mathews —one of our gang— would have come to get me in his car if I had asked him, but sometimes I just don't use my head. It drives my brother Darry nuts when I do stuff like that, 'cause I'm supposed to be smart; I make good grades and have a high IQ and everything, but I don't use my head.”

"You don't ever think," Darry broke in, "not at home or anywhere when it counts. You must think at school, with all those good grades you bring home, and you've always got your nose in a book, but do you ever use your head for common sense? No sirree, bub.”

Was rereading the book and realized that Pony says/thinks about how he doesn’t use his head and then he gets jumped and then Darry tells him he doesn’t use his head, implying that either:

The main voice in Pony’s mind that criticizes him belongs to Darry bc he thinks either that Darry would say that to him or that he’s already said it to him enough times for him to internalize it to the point of where he’s almost word-for-word accurate compared to when Darry’s chewing him out

OR

That one of the reasons Pony feels so much pressure when it comes to Darry is because he has these shadows or doubts in his mind and yeah they’re there and all, but they don’t take physical form or fully register until Darry goes ahead and voices the thoughts in his mind, making it so much worse for him than if they just stayed as his internal thoughts because now his insecurities and fears are real and they’re more than just him overthinking or overreacting

And Darry’s right, of course; Ponyboy can’t afford to be a greaser who’s got a head not all the way screwed on, but there’s something about knowing that there’s a flaw of his —one that separates him from those who he considers family— and it being thrown in his face right after such a vulnerable moment where he was literally just on the verge of tears, already trying to stay strong and not cry because Darry was there.

It makes it an interesting point in the books, where Pony knows Darry, knows what about himself makes Darry annoyed and can near perfectly envision his reaction, but he’s still an unreliable narrator. It makes it harder to tell what parts are embellishments on his end versus just how Darry is.

Because you can look at the evidence above and take it one way, or you can also notice that Darry didn’t start chewing out Pony until Steve pointed out how he was walking alone. Before that, all he had said was “You’re both nuts.” And then Soda raises an eyebrow at him and he grins.

And there’s so many ways to interpret it:

The frustration with Ponyboy clearly came from a place of worry, but was it also him projecting the anger at himself for not getting there sooner?

Was his annoyance at Pony not taking someone with him a hidden plea for him to please, let him be there, let him help?

Was he originally just worried about Pony’s wellbeing until Steve pointed out his choice to walk alone, and only then did his worry shift to anger, or some other emotion masked by it?

And Darry shoves his hands in his pockets and apologizes after Pony tells him to quit shaking him, which also shows his tendency to hide his true emotions for the sake of putting on a strong face, so his anger at Ponyboy could’ve easily been him scared out of his mind afraid to lose another family member.

But back to Ponyboy’s perspective.

His intelligence, the thing that Darry places so much value on, as well as a trait of Darry’s own that he thinks of nightly, is suddenly used against him again. He brings in B’s? They should be A’s. He brings in A’s? They’d better stay that way. He’s intelligent overall? He doesn’t have an ounce of street smarts, and if he doesn’t want to end up hurt or worse, he’d better wise up.

It’s never enough.

And Ponyboy knows this, he’s internalized it heavily. It’s part of why he thinks Darry hates him so much. And while it might be clear to the audience and the other characters that this is absolutely not true, it’s not too hard to see why he believes it.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Hey, if it's okay, then may I please request a Gomez!master (missy) x reader. The reader has been kidnapped by Missy and someone they are working with. The person with missy tells them how when they're done with you that you will fall in love with the first person you see and how you will obey them. (Which they will make sure is missy) the person then knocks you unconscious and when you wake up you see missy, your new "programing" is activated.

anon I'm not gonna lie, I probably had wayy too much fun writing this than I should have, I literally sat down and didn't stop writing until the whole thing was complete. I hope you love it as much as I do <3

Side Effects Include (Missy/Gomez! Master x reader)

Warnings: kidnapping, drugging, the ending can be read as slightly suggestive

"What are you doing? Let go of me!"

You struggled against the restraints of the chair you were tied up in, glaring across the room at a person who you thought was your friend. Well, they were really more like a work friend than anything else, but that was besides the point.

"Sorry, I can't do that." They responded simply, shrugging some.

You rolled your eyes at their response, though your annoyance quickly switched over to fear when you heard another voice begin to talk from behind you.

"Now, now. Try not to get overexcited. I'd hate for you to hurt yourself."

Missy stepped out from behind you, walking around the chair in a slow, predatory fashion.

"You." Of course, you should've known she was the one behind this.

She chuckled at your reaction. "Yes, it's me. Aren't you so thrilled?"

"What am I doing here?" You asked with a slight growl as you fought once more against your restraints.

"None of that, now." Missy wagged her finger at you like you were a cat who was trying to chew on one of her houseplants. "You're here because- well, to be quite frank, I've found myself to be growing infatuated with you."

You narrowed your eyes, trying to figure out just what she meant by that. "You- what?"

She sighed in exasperation at your response. "I have feelings for you, dear. That's why I paid your little 'friend' here to kidnap you." She gestured to the other person who you'd forgotten was still in the room.

"Oh." You grumbled, shooting them a dirty look that they seemed to be pretty unfazed by.

"Come, now. Don't seem so disappointed." Missy said sternly. "There are worse things."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" You retorted snarkily. Big mistake.

She clenched her jaw, her nostrils flaring in anger. "I've tried to be reasonable here. But it seems as though you're leaving me with no choice." Turning, she spoke to your 'friend'. "Let me know when the procedure is complete."

They nodded in understanding as Missy left the room. As they turned to face away from you, you noticed a fairly large table with a bunch of test tubes and glass vials that you hadn't seen before.

They started mixing something, though what, exactly, you couldn't be sure. You gulped, getting the sense that maybe getting an attitude with such a formidable force like Missy wasn't the best idea.

Your so called friend turned, holding up a strange looking flower, one that you could only assume was from some kind of alien planet. "Do you know what this is?"

"Of course I do. It's obviously a hat," you responded with sarcastically.

They kept on as if you hadn't spoken. "This is a very rare strain of flower that contains the chemical compotents required to cause someone to experience a very intense romantic attraction towards someone else."

Letting out an irritated sigh upon seeing your confusion, they rephrased their previous sentence. "It can be used to create love potions. The strength of said potion depends fully on how much of it is added.

"A few petals would make the subject have a slight crush, whereas the whole thing creates a world for them where nothing matters except for their love. They'll do anything that's told to them by the person to which their affection is based. This-" they gestured to the flower "-is merely here as an example. I've already gotten the materials I need from another similar flower."

You felt the blood in your veins run ice cold as you started to put two and two together. Not only did Missy want you to be hers, but she would do anything she could to ensure that you wouldn't ever try to leave. I mean, she was evil, sure, but surely she wouldn't stoop so low as to do that... right?

"Wait, why can't she just use her powers of hypnotism, if she wants to be with me so bad?" You asked suddenly as they moved to place the flower back on the table.

They picked up a large perfume bottle, and you noticed they now had some kind of surgical mask on their face. "Because the effects of hypnotism have to possibility of wearing off after a certain amount of time, even for someone as powerful as her. This can only be reversed by the corresponding antidote." They made their way over to you and held the bottle up to your face. "Now, stay still."

"No, don't you dare spray me, you son of a bit-" You felt yourself get spritzed in the face before you could even finish your sentence, the aroma of the flower permeating your senses and settling deep in your lungs. Your eyes became droopy, and you barely noticed it when a chloroform covered rag was forced over your nose and mouth to ensure you wouldn't keep struggling while the potion started working.

When you woke up again a little while later, your old 'friend' was gone and Missy had returned. You blinked a few times, trying to shake yourself rid of the effects of the perfume in vain. She kneeled down in front of you, a look of glee clearly visible on the features of her face.

"Hello, dear. How are you feeling?"

"Ugh." You mumbled, not even able to form a full word, let alone a sentence.

As your eyes began to focus, you noticed for the first time just how gorgeous Missy truly was. Her eyes were enthralling, her smile dazzling, and had she always done her hair up in such cute ways?

"Hi, Missy." You eventually slurred out, your voice dripping with adoration. "You're really pretty."

She let out a playful giggle, noticing the lovestruck look on your face and how compliant you seemed, a sure sign that the potion had done its job. "See? I knew you'd love me. Now, let's get you out of those restraints so I can show you just how much I love you."

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3

Main masterlist | Doctor Who masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @theonetruepotato87

[trippygalaxy]

Question: Can I make a request for one of your boys? Because I really want a thing where I like kiss Heavens and/or Shifter and/or Legacy on the cheek or something and how they would react

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH😭😭😭

AOG! Boy Reaction to Crush Kissing Their Cheek

Of course my love!! For those who don't know, these boys are from my au 'Across the Galaxy' that....is but isn't in the making??? Dhdjashfkahj I'll make sure to label who is from what game beside them!

Pairing: Heavens, Shifter x gn! reader (Separate) Warnings: Shifter's -> Self doubt, needles, tending to wounds

Heavens (Ss! Link)

The kiss happened before Heavens had to leave for an Expedition

Heavens, Ila (Zelda), Groose and a few others were the main group that would go off and explore the surface when the Skyloftians began to move down there in hopes of charting as much as they could

Normally these could range from a few weeks to multiple months, depending where they were exploring!

This would often leave you, a long time friend and longer time crush of Heavens, alone in the floating island of your home. Heavens always felt guilty after saying his goodbye, wanting nothing more than to have you join -him- the group but the fear of dragging you into a dangerous and possibly deathly land...well it stopped any thoughts about asking you to join.

You, on the other hand, felt a similar fear for him whenever he left

You knew he can handle himself-- goddesses, He killed a god!! Of course he can handle everything that is thrown at him! But...what if he cant? What if he didn't come back? What if...you never got to hold him like you wanted to? What if you were left alone, your love never to be returned?

This fear, this doubt, bubbled up one day when he had told you about another expedition he -and the group- had planned last minute.

You aren't sure if it was the fear or adrenaline, but the next thing you knew you had a tight grip on Heavens' scarf as you planted a firm kiss to his cheek, whispering a plead to return safe before letting go

Heavens, still hunched over slightly, blinked owlishly at you with lips slightly pursed and cheeks faintly tinted with an adorable hue

He was oddly quiet for moment, and you fear that you had messed up but before an apology can begin to form on your lips a face splitting smile breaks his once shocked demeanors. It was like the sun was being dimmed from his smile, and you're sure this is the happiest you've seen him in...years. Not even a trace of tiredness in his droopy eyes!

Heavens, a 45 year old man, has the expression of a lovesick teenager and he wouldn't have it any other way

Maybe it was the boyish smile, or the way his shaky fingers ghosted over the place you kissed him, or the loud blush that had his ears twitching slightly-- Or maybe...just maybe it was the way he looked at you...Like you were the ones who lifted Skyloft into the sky

You can tell that he makes NO move to compose himself, just staring at you with a knowing but loving look

"Goddesses...Your lips are softer than any silks we could weave.." He whispers, not moving an inch from you. "...May I be so bold to ask for your blessing once more? As to grant my journey with bountiful discoveries, of course~"

Mmm, how could you say no to such an ask?

Shifter (Oot/Mm! Link)

The Kiss happened after patching up Shifter's wounds

Shifter had shown up at your door step wounded and battered once more, giving you no explanation or indication that he would EVER give you one, as per usual

Thankfully(?) this wasn't the first time the ex-hero has done this (and youre sure it wont be the last--) so you were able to patch up the man with ease and minimal mess...but that didn't mean you were happy about it

Shifter could feel every ounce of annoyance as your thread the needle through his ripped flesh. It was like you were sewing your righteous disdain into his tainted skin

But Shifter didn't stop you- he deserved it. He deserved to be treated like a torn stuff animal that was under the care of a disgruntled owner who felt no warm for such a broken thing. He didn't deserve you holy, pure love and affection when all he was a burden, an annoyance, a reason to dread opening the door at the possibility of it being him...

But you didn't dread opening the door, not for him. No, you yearned to open it to him

He would never know that it was never him that you held the disdain for, no, it was always the wounds he harbored and the suffering they dealt to him

Gods...He would never know...Never know the pain and grief you felt every time another scar joins his skin. He would never know the longing you held in your heart, the want to hold his blemished scar littered hands, the need to him the love he was so worthy of holding

He may never know...but it was clear to many others, much to your dismay.

One of these people was Malon, the lovely but very teasing farmer you had grown very close to. She was always the first to (playfully) joke about how obvious tension between you two was, poking your side and demanding to be the first one to know if you finally made a move--

You had promised her you wouldn't -but that promise would soon be broken-

At one point, you're not sure when or why, an argument started. Shifter stayed cold and blunt as always, never seeming to react or care about your concerns for his well being. It infuriated you.

And it only made your blood boil even more when he harshly told you that you shouldn't care about him. That it was useless and wouldn't be of any use to him or yourself. That you were better off forgetting him. That--

He felt the slightly pressure to his side, as if something was pressed into his cheek yet his wooden mask stopped any contact it would of made to his skin. It takes him a moment to realize what had happened...and even then he doesn't believe it.

You pull back from his mask's cheek, cheeks warm with embarrassment as licking your lips nervously. Had you forgotten about the barrier between you two? Yes. But that wasn't the point--

"I don't care what you think I'd be better off with, I...I care about you. And I hate seeing you show up to my step coated in blood. Link...Please I can't-- I can't keep seeing you like this.."

The man was quiet, his brilliant blue eye just barely visible from the shadow the mask casted on his face. Its unmoving, never leaving your face, not even as you shift uncomfortably.

Regret, embarrassment, self directed anger. These were all the things you felt as the silence stretched on, but before you could stammer out an excuse to leave you hear the deep rumbles that made up his voice whisper to you.

"I can't promise you anything-" Your stomach drops "But.." Huh? "I'll get better at dodging...For your sake."

The ex-hero, large and intimidating, shrinks in on himself, looking away like a child after admitting to a crime. This...was a first.

It...It was a start. A uneasy, most likely slow start but a start none the less! You couldn't be more happy.

Taglist: @yourlocaltreesimp @quiteliterallyilliterate @birb-boy-official

[purplexing-writing-and-concepts]

{Am I...a God? Neat!}

-Chapter Eight: Of Cracked Stone & Shattered Faith-

"So, tell me...not that I don't already have an idea, what is this meeting for?" The older of the beings asked as they sat floating on the air like a chair. Zhongli's eyes narrowed slightly in minor confusion but also annoyance. "I would like to ask what you are doing here...and if you plan to interfere with my plans for Liyue.." All he received in reply was a hum. (Y/n) made a gesture as if pondering how to answer before shrugging. "Well little dragon that entirely depends on how you answer my question...and if I like your response."

The air surrounding the two became tense as Zhongli began to exert his godly aura. "And you think I would let you so easily?" The old god laughed to themself finding his attempted display of dominance amusing. Their face began to distort as a cracking noise permeated the air. The vessels face was gone leaving behind a black void. It seemed the replacement "face" absorbed all light. Zhongli felt himself growing weak as a malicious pressure began to compress his heart. It was like this entity was grabbing it and pumping it by hand.

The void face then gained a single eye or was it multiple. He couldn't tell the little lights that seemed to float around were hard to distinguish from stars or eyes. For the first time in a while, he felt genuine fear. He couldn't focus on anything other than the presence of the primordial being in front of him, but one thing was clear, he did not feel safe in the slightest.

And just as quickly as the atmosphere changed it was reverted back. The entity in front him returned back to their initial appearance and he retracted his aura back. "Hopefully now that that's out of the way we can continue our discussion...What are your thoughts on Celestia and its rules? Honesty only or it might end badly for you and your lovely little nation." (Y/n) said with a smile, though it did not fully reach their eyes.

Zhongli could only stand as he tried to process the situation at hand. He remembered vividly what Guizhong would tell him about the entity she learned of and subsequently worshiped. That while they can be nice, they can be equally as cruel, and their ire was not something to be taken lightly. On the same hand he remembered what Celestia did to past nations that defied them, a fate he did not wish to repeat for his people.

And yet he began to speak. Giving the ancient god his unfiltered and honest thoughts about the castle in the sky. He spoke of his unease and resentment, of his regrets and hopes. The dragon was shocked with himself when he finished speaking a truth that he agreed to keep hidden. He felt he'd broken the terms of his contract something he didn't think was possible, and something he feared more than even erosion.

(Y/n) smiled and hummed in thought before they stood grabbing both of Zhongli's shaky hands. They gave a small reassuring squeeze and let go before speaking," Worry not little dragon your contracts do not apply to me for I have asked of you the truth...Liyue will not suffer the spear of Celestia...in fact the information you've given me has only aided in my plans to get rid of the parasite plaguing this world."

They nodded as they moved towards the cliff's edge that overlooked Liyue," I'm sure you can already feel that I have taken your gnosis, worry not for I've replaced it with a fake so your deal with the Fatui will still be completed...and another thing you are not to relay this information to them it would be such a shame if my only source of entertainment were to turn hazardous."

Zhongli could only hum in mild dissatisfaction feeling his voice would fail him. This reaction caused (Y/n) to chuckle," At a loss for words are we well it's a good thing you are about to fake your death in 5 minutes...Let us part here but know this I will be watching" The male's face held a worried frown as he watched them dissipate into shadow like wisps that faded soon after. He wondered if he should rethink his decision to step down as archon but figured it was too late to change the events that were set in motion.

~A few moments later~

"Starlight are you sure you don't want me to handle this little ginger?" (Y/n) asked their son as he stood with the 11th of the Fatui Harbingers. They found the whole situation entertaining from the guards chasing them and their kids to the ginger coming to their "rescue". The blonde merely shook his head at his parent hoping he could handle this himself, though he wondered what they had in store for the harbinger should he change his mind.

Childe's face held a nervous smile as he looked between the two conversing in front of him. He noticed that the blonde was hostile to him after mentioning his affiliation with the fatui but also that the other person was indifferent to his presence. From what Signora informed the Tsarista the blonde was of little consequence but the other person, the boy's parent, was not only dangerous but someone to be avoided.

While he loved a challenge, he wasn't entirely sure if fighting someone who gave off the same energy as the hostile environment of the abyss was worth it. He would make his final decision later. Since they accepted his help, he gave them the Sigil of Permission and directed them to Jueyun Karst in search of the Adepti. All the while he felt eyes boring into him. Childe knew deep down who the cause of it was, but he hoped the longer he ignored it the more likely they would direct their attention away from him.

"Well, my little starlight we have our assignment let's be off then but first I need to talk a bit more with Childe, so I'll meet you outside the gates alright?" (Y/n) said as they pat the blonde's hair down gently and nudged him and Paimon towards the stairs. Deciding against fighting his parent on it, Aether gently grabbed Paimon by her collar and rushed towards the gates of Liyue to avoid being spotted.

Once they were sure the children were out of ear shot the god turned their full attention back towards Childe. "I know of your intentions Ajax, and I will only say this once...hurt my children and you will deeply regret...also keep your agents away from them as well it is a waste of resources seeing as they won't ever report back." As they finished, they smiled before beginning to walk away," Oh and by the way...if a spare is what you want, I shall oblige when the time is right..."

With that they walked off leaving Childe alone to his thoughts. The ginger could feel the power raiding off them as they left. It was stronger than the abyssal creatures, hell it was even stronger than the displays of power from the Tsarista herself. He felt himself in mild turmoil, sure staying loyal to the Tsarista wasn't entirely a priority outside of keeping his family safe. And he loved the thrill of the fight, but now he wasn't sure how to proceed.

It was very clear that he wasn't simply threatened but promised. He was also off put by how they knew of his true name, a name he only uses with family. 'What are they...could they be that god from those reports...?' He thought to himself before heading inside of Northland Bank away from prying eyes and ears, though he felt, no he knew that they were still watching him, and they were listening. He'd never been more excited for a confrontation before, though for now he'd keep it civil.

[heinzpilsner]

Okay, another part of 'Overanalyzing beach Maiko' series here! And I want to assure you that even though it looks deceptively like 'Roasting beach Mai' series to the unaided eye, it's actually not the case. The differences are here. Somewhere. Probably.

I roast Zuko too.

Anyway, in the last part, Mai said 'hey', and Zuko said 'are you cold', and Mai slapped Zuko's hand off, so I guess this leaves their relationship status in the border area.

So, what's next?

Well, despite the fact that their interactions keep going quite actively after this, we're not gonna see any real relationship progression for quite some time.

So, I suggest to take this as another opportunity to yell at study the characters instead.

And it opens with the roasting of Ty Lee.

(The structure of the beach polylogue makes it quite difficult to build a laconic presentation of the context, so... Let's just rely on our memory this time, shall we?)

Zuko: "You're stuck in your little 'Ty Lee world' where everything's great all the time." Mai: "Zuko, leave her alone."

You know, this moment almost made me suspect that Mai cares about the other girl! It would actually make my "she can't care about anyone but herself" hypothesis wrong, which would leave only one explanation for the "bring me food" moment (That is, Mai just didn't care about Zuko in particular.)

But then, after Ty Lee got emotional and cried, and there was no defender for her among their group, Mai decided it was a good time to criticize her as well.

She had a choice between expressing her annoyance (and intelligence) and sparing Ty Lee's feelings, and she prefered the former. Emotional support of her upset friend wasn't even among the options, apparently.

So, I suspect, the "defense" of Ty Lee was hardly more than another instance of scolding Zuko for being angry.

Apparently, Mai just gets disturbed (and hence annoyed) by any display of vivid negative emotions in her close circle. And if there is one thing in life she truly cares about, it's her own emotional comfort.

Simply put, Mai needs fun and pleasure, and all this dramatic shit around only sucks her energy out.

Smart choice of a boyfriend, by the way.

Pffft.

("But she said she cares about Zuko in the end!", I can hear someone protesting. Don't worry, we'll get to it.)

Mai: "I don't believe in auras." Zuko: "Yeah, you do not believe in anything."

That's a curious accusation here.

I wouldn't be surprised if there were times in the past when Zuko tried to talk about something important for him with Mai but recieved a cynical reaction.

But there's no proof for this, obviously.

Besides, as we soon learn, Zuko is not that good at identifying true sources of his frustrations.

It's still my headcanon though.

Mai: "Oh, well, I'm sorry I can't be as high-strung and crazy as the rest of you."

But... What believing or not believing in things has to do with being high-strung?  This answer just sounds so unnatural in the context. As if Mai responds not to Zuko's words, but to writer's plan her own thoughts here.

(Quite a typical behavior for an egocentric though, when I think about it.)

Still, why would Mai want to change such a convinient topic? Cynical people who proud themselves on their intelligence love talking about how stupid it is to believe in things. It's basically that Mai 'auras' answer was about. And then suddenly this awkward shift.

It's a shame, actually. To me, it would be much more interesting to hear about Mai's beliefs than to focus on imaginary "not expressing your feelings" problem.

Also, I love how Mai just casually called Azula crazy. So much fear here, if you catch my meaning.

Zuko: "I'm sorry, too. I wish you would be high-strung and crazy for once instead of keeping all your feeling bottled up inside."

When. When Mai ever kept her feeling bottled up inside? When she's bored - she says so repeatedly. When she doesn't like something - she criticizes it right away or glares at you fiercely. When you make a scene at the party - she yells at you "for once" (even though she was bored and you put quite an exciting show here, which makes her reaction kinda contr-intuitive. How interesting of an interlocutor Ruon-Jian was, anyway?)

The fact that you can't find among the feelings she expresses something you looking for, or don't find their expression intense enough is a different question entirely.

The fact that she avoids discussing problems you want to discuss too.

For some reason, you just keep barking up the wrong tree here, Zuko. I wonder if you ever heard about different nervous activity types. Or different life views. Or different anything, really.

But this is not the main problem here, obviously.

Zuko: "She just called your aura dingy. Are you gonna take that?"

Yep, Mai's self-worth is not affected as heavily by other people's opinions as yours, Zuko. What a terrible tragedy.

Mai: "What do you want from me?"

A really good question. What do you want from Mai now, Zuko? A magical transformation into Katara a person you wish her to be? Or an explanatory note for thinking and reacting not exactly like you'd prefer?

Surprise, she doesn't owe you anything! Your frustration with Mai's personality is your own problem, and you'd better start asking yourself what you really can do about it.

Take your love life in your own hands, boy, and I didn't mean it like that, you perverts or stop terrorizing your not-quite-ex-girlfriend for not meeting your emotional needs.

(You still didn't apologize to Ty Lee, by the way. Kinda ooc of you.)

Mai: "You want a teary confession about how hard my childhood was? Well, it wasn't. I was a rich only child who got anything I wanted..."

Well, this part is definitely truth.

Mai: "...as long as I behaved and sat still, and didn't speak unless spoken to. My mother said I had to keep out of trouble. We had my dad's political career to think about."

Ahhh, this part though is much more tricky.

You see, for all we know, Mai's mother could just try and prevent Mai from throwing kitchen knives at her father's important guests or from saying that their make-up is abomination. Poor little Mai though would remember it as a terrible oppresion of her self-expression for the rest of her life.

More importantly though... Even if what Mai says here objectively took place in the past, I highly doubt what it's a good explanation for her demeanor.

I mean, Toph has quite a similar background, and... Did you see Toph?

Honestly, it looks to me more like a natural temperament kind of thing. It's just the way Mai is. Maybe environment affected her to a certain degree, but I don't think its influence was crucial.

Sometimes her emotions are more intense, especially during fights, but it doesn't mean she hides some kind of oppressed passionate girl underneath her languid mask or something.

So stop trying to dig her out, Zuko, it's getting embarrassing.

Azula: "You have a controlling mother who had certain expectations, and if you strayed from them, you were shut down. That's why you're afraid to care about anything, and why you can't express yourself". Kinda cheated with this one, didn't I

Okay... first of all.

Why. Just why on earth everyone keeps saying Mai doesn't express herself? Are you blind, people? Or maybe you're deaf?  The Mai I know is one big walking talking act of self-expression!

The real problem here is that apart from her annoyance, boredom and hunger she doesn't have much to express in the first place. Because in reality, she's no more than a hedonistic self-centred brat whose lack of proper occupations and interests in life left her on the verge of depression.

And sorry, local beach ghost of an amateur psychoanalytic who's currently possessing Azula, but most likely Mai's mother's "tyranny" has nothing to do with it. Breaking news: not everything in human psychology can be explained by mommy or daddy issues.

I'd assume here much more prosaic explanation. That is, during the last decade, Mai was mostly focused on her school life, while in her free time, knife throwing and passive entertainments were her only hobbies. So, when the school ended and nothing else started, she suddenly found herself in a vacuum she didn't know what to fill with.

And since Mai is a spoiled infantile, she's always waiting for something to happen, or for someone to give her something to do instead of asking herself that she can do to change the situation fundamentally.

And apparently, being in "love" with Zuko is her only real entertainment nowadays. That's why she hey-ed him so soon after the break-up - Mai's life's emptiness reached the 'uncomfortably painful' stage at this point, so even the emotional discomfort caused by Zuko's behavior was more preferable than this.

And I don't know much about Mai being "afraid to care about anything", but I can say a couple of things about her being incapable of caring about anyone.

Growing up as a rich only child, Mai became used to the idea that everything around is about her. She's always focused on herself and her own needs, and subconsciously expects the same attention from other people (from her romantic partner especially).

It rarely occurs to her that people around may have their own interests, and "listening to Mai's complaints and entertaining her" are not among them. When the reality reminds Mai about the fact though, she just gets annoyed by such a nuisance.

I start to suspect now that her "are you cold" question in "The Awakening" was actually not about Zuko's comfort, but about Mai playing her unusual new role of a caring girlfriend. So, when her performance didn't get the expected appreciation, she immediately got frustrated - kind of like Zuko with his seashell, actually.

(Except that Zuko after this thought about something Mai really would want and went to get some ice cream. While the boy is not exactly a paragon of personal maturity himself, on his girlfriend's background, he honestly starts to look like one.)

Even after Mai's "I care about you" declaration, when she really tried to support Zuko in "Nightmares and Daydreams", it sounded like "I might be hungry for a whole tray of fruit tarts". It would be funny if it wasn't so sad, really. She had a vague idea that she's supposed to do something when her partner is upset, but even with it, she couldn't really break the egocentrical shell around her mind and see the difference between her own desires and desires of other person.

Pheeew. I finished.

Of course, all this doesn't make Mai a monster or something. The girl is only 16, and even if she wasn't, the way her personality was formed is a result of many objective circumstances.

If we look at the situation the way Mai's psychologist could, there's no point in blaming or shaming the girl - only to help her realize the problems with her attitudes and offer alternative ways of thinking.

But I am not Mai's psychologist. And I am pissed by how the episode ignores the real problem with the character and helps to promote the old pseudo-psychological myth that just blaming your parents is enough to "understand yourself".

My dear beach ghost, Mai is already a person with infantile way of thinking! She doesn't need an extra encouragement for accusing someone else in her problems.

It's not you who have to deal with her after this, you know.

Spare poor Zuko, the boy has a lot on his plate as it is.

Annnd I guess it's as good a place to stop as any other. We'll start the next part of 'Overanalyzing beach Maiko' right from Mai's... peculiar reaction to Azula's words. Yay.

Thanks for your attention?..

Fortunately I ignore all notifications.

[aspoonofsugar]

hi!! i just came across your blog & am loving your bsd meta & analyses so much!!! :)

i was wondering if i could ask, in this post you say this about sskk:

The point is that Akutagawa represents everything Atsushi doesn’t want to accept about himself (the violence, the possibility of being left behind, how pathetic and wrong it is to let one’s worth being decided by others’ praise etc.). At the same time Atsushi is the same for Akutagawa.

…and i assume the same is true for skk (the soukoku curse… but also the very reason they work so well together). my opinion on what Chuuya sees mirrored in Dazai is something you talk about in this post (which is quite possibly my favorite bsd meta i’ve ever read… you put into words so well the ideas that have been circulating in my head for months!!)

…deep down Chuya wants to die…This is why he is so disturbed by Dazai's suicidal tendencies. He sees a dark mirror of himself in the other boy.

Chuuya “hates” Dazai because he sees his struggle staring back at him— the temptation he is constantly having to fight against, Dazai is pursuing. why does Chuuya fight it? because he is always trying to find an anchor for his humanity.

so i was wondering if you have any thoughts on what Dazai sees mirrored in Chuuya that makes him “hate” Chuuya (except they really just hate that part of themselves)

i have so many things from that second post that i’d love to ask you to expand on, but i’ve already made this way too long, sorry!! but lastly, do you believe that underneath the superficial annoyance, & the mirroring that rubs them the wrong way, Dazai and Chuuya really do care for each other? i’m not big into shipping, but i cannot accept that they are not genuinely friends bc while their words say one thing, their actions say another. thanks again for your analyses!! <3

Hi,

Thank you so much for this ask and your kind words! I would say that the answer to your first question is found in the same post you linked:

Dazai's skill is called No Longer Human because he feels inhuman:

"He's already dead," said Chuuya. "Quit shooting his corpse." Dazai was puzzled. His expression was bizarrely childlike- fit for a boy his age, yet unlike any he had shown before. His lips suddenly curled into a gloomy smile. "You're right. When you're right, you're right. That's the most common reaction to have." (...) His expression was back to how it usually was: lifeless and utterly disinterested. "Ha-ha. Normal. Ha-ha-ha." (Fifteen)

Dazai sees himself as wrong and thinks Chuya is far more normal than he is. Sure, he has an incredibly powerful skill, but deep down he is just another kid. This is why the reveal of Chuya's background leaves such an impact on Dazai:

Chuya: Arahabaki is me.

It forces him to look outside himself and to reconsider what it means to be human. The point of Dazai's character is that he thinks he is this impossible to read being, who stands above others. And yet, he is really a normal person. Not only that, but he is also pretty childish. He wants friends and grows attached to the few people who step into his loneliness (Mori, Chuya, Oda, Ango, Akutagawa, the ADA). And yet, he sucks at communicating with them out of fear, which leads to more problems than needed. In synthesis, the story of Dazai in Fifteen is really that of an emo kid, who discovers the jock has more reason than him to be emo.

This is why Chuya grows linked to the idea of humanity in Dazai's mind.

In short, Dazai reminds Chuya of his wish to die/live, while Chuya reminds Dazai of his monstrosity/humanity. Death/life and monster/human are the two themes that are intertwined in Chuya and Dazai's relationship. So, Dazai is both drown and envious of Chuya because Chuya is really a normal person, who is also a born monster. Dazai himself is instead human, but he feels a monster (no longer human) hence why he is lonely. To summarize:

Chuya is repulsed by Dazai because he embodies his own suicidal tendencies.

Dazai is envious of Chuya because he is a monster, who feels like a person more than Dazai.

As for your second question, yes, Chuya and Dazai definately care for each other:

Fifteen is the story of how Dazai and Chuya find a friend, basically. They both can't act their age because they are too different from their peers (too smart and too strong respectively). Still, they behave as kids with each other.

Storm Bringer shows Dazai risking the destruction of the whole city to prove Chuya is human. He is also clearly the person who believes in Chuya's humanity the most.

Dead Apple has Chuya risk his life to save Dazai's and he is clearly worried about Dazai when he is hurt by Lovecraft.

On another note, even if you said you are not into shipping... I really do think the subtext of Chuya and Dazai's relationship is meant to be read as romantic. Or at least as teasing... Two examples:

Dead Apple has Dazai play Snowhite and Chuya play the Prince

Storm Bringer parallels Chuya and Dazai's partnership with Verlaine and Rimbaudt, who have had a pretty famous love story

By this I don't mean they are canon or will be canon, but simply that there is the intended willingness to have people ship them. Anyway, Chuya and Dazai do care about each other, but they would never admit it!

Thank you for the ask!

[chickensoup-4-mysoul]

herculean (drrr x f!reader) - chapter 22

Chapter 22 - Kettle Catching Pot

synopsis: you're anything but happy with izaya about the stunt he just pulled, but he's more than happy to tell you about more of his research.

word count: 2,128

warnings: description of murder

"i'm only human, i make mistakes i'm only human, that's all it takes to put the blame on me don't put the blame on me,, human - rag'n'bone man

He’s not expecting your appearance. He can try to cover up that fact, but the minuscule widening of his eyes is the only tell that you need. “(Y/N)! Fancy seeing you here! Come to rescue me from that vicious bea--.”

“Save it.” The words are curt, but your voice carries less contempt than you intend. All that comes through is pure breathlessness; astonishment. Izaya’s eyebrows knit in fake concern.

“Why, is something wrong?” His voice was level, the same way it always was when he spoke to you. Calm and collected, like nothing that just occurred mattered.

“What’s wrong is that you’re a creep!” So many words flit through your conscious, you’re not sure that the right one came out--but you stick with it because it's true. He is a creep; a creep who no one trusts, a creep that hurt Anri, a creep that tried to get someone killed. A part of you cowers in fear of his reaction. The two of you are alone. All it would take was upsetting him, and he could do whatever he wanted to you.

But instead of the piercing glare and venomous scowl that you’re expecting, you’re only granted a close-lipped smile; stretching across his face in a Cheshire-like manner. “Is that so? And what makes me such a creep?” He was unmoved, staring you down as if eagerly awaiting your next move. The regard for his reaction is dissipating by the second, replaced by pure irritation, anger even.

“L-like you don’t know…”

“No, please enlighten me! Here I thought I was doing right by you, pulling so many strings to get your request fulfilled--but if I’ve done something to upset you, I’m all ears.”

He’s stepping towards you now, arms open in some sort of grandiose gesture. You move backward to maintain a distance, strongly disliking the disparity between his eyes and smile. “Well, you know what? Forget about the request--forget about the whole thing! It’s not worth fraternizing with the likes of you…”

“And what are the likes of me?”

His advancing doesn’t stop, and it takes you a moment to realize that he’s taunting you, relishing in each moment you recoil in fear. Well, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You hold your ground as he comes closer, even stepping forward. To your annoyance, he only seems more pleased with this.

“Manipulative jerks who jeopardize the lives of others for their own gain. Sorry men who have nothing better to do than to mess with innocent people. Someone could have died today, because of you, do you understand that? You’re no better than a murderer .”

Something flashes in his eyes, something dangerous. It sends a flash of panic through you and you’re suddenly aware of your proximity to him. You stand face to face with him now, the closest to him you had ever been. You take in his toothy grin, eyes fixed on his lips as they slowly part. He savors the words, tasting them, before tossing them into the air.

“You’re one to talk about murderers.”

The facade is broken. Your brain reels too much to take in the vision, but the dancing of that poisonous voice against your ears is enough to stir you up. Stumbling backwards, you struggle to digest his words. What?

“What?”

“Tell me, (Y/N). That case file I gave you--did you notice anything odd?” 

“W-why are you bringing that up now? If you think you’re going to pull me into one of your games, you’re sorely mistaken--!”

“But you see, I haven’t pulled you into anything. You’ve walked into it yourself!” He reaches into his coat and you tense all over. Was this the end for you? Killed in a secluded alley while everyone else was distracted? You wonder what instrument he planned to murder you with; rope, a knife, a gun…

A manila folder. He holds it high above his head before tossing it on the floor in front of you. You only stare at it, hesitant to reach for it. Noting your distrust, Izaya raises his arms, nodding for you to take it. Swiftly crouching down, you pinch it between your fingers and quickly regain your guard. Eyeing him suspiciously, you slowly open the folder.

“....It’s just the same case file.” Were you disappointed?

“See anything different about it?” The man prods. He talks to you like you’re a child in need of coaxing. Wrinkling your nose, you flip through the pages. As far as you could tell, nothing was different. All of the pages were there, you could read everything…

You could read everything.

“Nothing’s blacked out…” you think out loud, momentarily losing your prideful attempt to resist his mind games. The numerous lines that you were unable to read before were now there, clear as day. “So you gave me a tampered copy. Ha-ha, silly me. Is that all?”

“Now may not be the best time, but I would like to say thank you.” Your eyebrow raises.

“Thank you?”

“For your stunning insight on this case. I must say, I’m impressed. Even I was a bit stumped, but, after our last consultation, I experienced a bit of a breakthrough. The order of the killings, the missing lock of hair, the Baseball Card Killer? You’re brilliant!”

A day before, you would have been foolishly prideful to hear those words. A naive itching within you to impress the enigmatic man that no one else could get through to. But now? The words fell flat with no effect. No, he was just trying to butter you up.

“Flattery’s not going to work. Literally, all of that was written in the case file.”

“Ah, but it wasn’t!” There’s an exhilaration in his voice that deeply unsettles you. Why on earth was he enjoying this so much?  You flip through the folder searching for the page that you knew the most. When you find it, your eyes quickly scan over the words

Leanne Clarence was found in the pool. Cause of death was confirmed to be drowning. The autopsy also revealed that locks of hair missing from the victim’s head.

“...locks of hair were missing from the victim’s head--see, it’s written right there.” You don’t even know why you’re sitting here talking to him. You could leave if you wanted to--and you do want to, so what’s the problem?

Izaya reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a folded sheet of paper. Unfolding it, he holds it up to you, close enough for you to make out the writing--or lack thereof. It was a copy of the same page you had turned to, except that some lines had been crossed out--like the copy you had first gotten. “Except you hadn’t seen that before, had you?” He points his finger to the exact line you were referencing and, to your perplexity, you notice how half of it was blacked out.

Leanne Clarence was found in the pool. Cause of death was confirmed to be drowning. The autopsy also revealed ______________________________________.

Your brain stops running for a moment, thrown off by the revelation. “W-well, I made an inference, so what! I probably saw how pretty her hair was in the picture and had the theory...what does this have to do with--?”

“Show me those pictures, if you’d please.” Scoffing at the interruption, you flip to the next page. Maybe if you just played along for a bit, he’d let you go. Glancing over the three girl’s pictures, you point out Leanne’s picture, deadpan staring at the man.

“See? Pretty blonde hair.” Izaya leans closer to the page, presumably to get a closer look. He appears to be in deep thought, humming inquisitively with a creased brow. You huff impatiently--what on earth was there to contemplate? 

“How’d you know that was Leanne?” Your heart rate spikes through the roof as his face splits into a smirk once again.

“Stop messing around! The pictures are labeled, her name’s right--” You turn the page towards you again, ready to point out the name to him. However, when you plant your finger on the page, all you hit is blank white. 

There were no words anywhere on the page.

You blink slowly, as if in the brief moment that your eyes close, the print would appear. No, that didn’t make sense. You could’ve sworn the pictures were labeled. Maybe it had been somewhere else in the file--a description of each girl, a brief detail that let on to their identities. You continue to look through the folder, ignoring Izaya’s obviously growing amusement. Suddenly, the folder is swiped from your grasp. “H-hey!” You shout indignantly, seething at the man who now dangled the folder between his fingers.

“One more thing, (Y/N), and I promise I’ll set you free.” You scoff, crossing your arms. Taking that as compliance, he goes through the folder himself. The pace at which he flips each page is infuriatingly slow. Finally, he stops, planting a finger on a page before glancing up at you. “You said this to comfort yourself and you weren’t even thinking...but I found it quite fascinating. About the brutality of the stabbing. Do you remember?”

“It’s not exactly in the forewings of my memory at the moment.”

“Well, let me remind you!” His voice rises with glee, his eyes pinning you in a way that makes your blood curdle. He pulls something from his pocket--a simple cellphone. You raise a brow, silently questioning him. He gives no answer, simply pressing a button.

“..not brutal enough to get blood all over the crime scene.”

Wait...was that…?

“Hmmm, but perhaps the killer was able to book it after stabbing his last victim—that would be an easy avoidance for the mess.”

No way.

“It wasn’t his last victim though….Sorry—I just mean…he, er, strangled the last girl without getting blood on her, right? So the stabbing couldn’t have been that bloody.” 

“You recorded our conversations!?”

“I record all of my conversations--it’s kinda part of the job.” You could slug him across his nasty, smirking face--but you were more frustrated with yourself. How could you not have thought about that? How foolish you were...but it shouldn’t matter because you never said anything bad in the first place! You open your mouth to say so, but Izaya cuts you off, reading from the page in front of him.

“There has not been a confirmation regarding the sequence of the victims’ murders, investigators have reached a relative consensus that the culprit drowned Clarence in the pool, then stabbed Harker to death in the kitchen after strangling Hall next to the pool.”

stabbed Harker to death in the kitchen after strangling Hall next to the pool.

“Looks like you and these investigators are having a little disagreement...I wonder which one of you is correct!”

“It wasn’t his last victim though ...he, er, strangled the last girl without getting blood on her, right?”

So many thoughts were swirling through your head and you could feel yourself getting dizzy. Your lips scrambled for words, but no rebuttal came to mind--because what exactly was he insinuating? A murder that happened four years ago? You were a teenager, probably in school. Just because you had some random theories...doesn’t mean that you…

“You knew about Leanne’s missing hair, you knew the victim’s names and faces, you knew the order of the killings. Independently, these things could be a coincidence, but all together?”

This is crazy.

“It seemed outlandish at first...but I actually dug up so much crucial information, thanks to your request!”

You didn’t.

“The middle school certificate from the same city where the murder occurred, the school photo from the same high school that the three victims attended, the same name as the fourth victim that is still missing to this day…”

You couldnt have.

"It all checks out--the culprit drowned Leanne Clarence, ripping her hair out in the process. They then proceeded to stab Katherine Harker to death, before finally strangling poor, poor Renee Hall...but it wasn't the family's housekeeper, no. Nor was it Matthew Hall, Renee's drug-addict uncle. It wasn't even the infamous Baseball Card Killer..."

You didn't do it.

“Thats right--the culprit of the Three of a Kind Murder Case, the savage brute who took the lives of Renee Hall, Katherine Harker, and Leanne Clarence, is none other than you...(Y/N) Brigall!”

You didn’t do it. You didn’t. You didn’t. You didn’t you didn’t you didn’tyoudidntyoudidn’tyou didn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’ty oudidn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’t

The mantra flashes in your head over and over again like error windows on a computer screen. The words ring loud and earnestly, begging to be heard--begging to distract you from that lone, powerful voice beneath it all. The one that was getting through to you the most, no matter how much you resisted it.

You couldn’t resist it.

It was you.

[librosamarillos]

passed down like folk songs

chapter 32: frustration

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

chapter index

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

Sitting through one of Aenys’ small council meetings was the easiest way Visenya could give herself a headache. It was a bit strange for her nephew to request her presence in the meeting and it was clearly not something he had informed everyone else about, judging by their surprised faces once she entered the room. Watching him trying to handle something as simple as a meeting was like watching a child trying to take his first steps, clumsy and slow. It was like he was drowning in some new concern, some new rebel, some new unhappiness in the kingdom, and he couldn’t handle news of things not being well. She was trying, to her defence, to not roll her eyes. She promised Rowan she’d play nice.

“Aunt! Could you stay back a moment?” Aenys’ voice stopped her from leaving, much to her annoyance. The room had nearly emptied, the few lords remaining sharing curious glances with each other. She turned to face him when the last person shut the door behind him. He was ageing rather quickly for a man this young. Most men were aged by battle or illness, but Aenys had experience with neither. He had been a weak child, but he managed to stay healthy enough as a man grown. Visenya eyed him carefully.

“What is it?” she asked him, her tone neutral and rather calm. He looked nervous, like he was hyping himself up to say something with confidence. She’d never admit it out loud, but she did find the whole thing amusing. She knew people feared her, and at times their reactions were very entertaining. Still, she looked at him with a raised brow.

“I wanted to talk to you about something- I wish to announce it soon, but I wanted you to know beforehand.” he said after some thought. He was nervously messing with the abundance of rings on his fingers, trying to appear more confident than he truly was.

“Go on.” she urged him, trying not to sound entirely condescending. It was like urging a small child to speak, and she wasn’t even sure she ever did that for Maegor. Aenys cleared his throat and straightened his back, like he was announcing something to the court.

“I plan to wed Aegon and Rhaena at the end of the year.” he announced, smiling softly with pride in his eyes. “A royal wedding will be a splendid event, one that would surely lift people’s spirits. And a progress after that, just like mine and Alyssa’s, so the people can get to know their future King and Queen.” he concluded, clasping his hands together. “What do you think?” he asked, looking at her with a smile.

“Why are you asking me? What does it matter?” she asked, a scowl evident on her face. It was not the response Aenys had wished for. What was she supposed to say to that? Yes, perhaps they were still a bit too young, Rhaena by the end of the year would be fifteen and Aegon thirteen, but Rhaena had already flowered, so it wasn’t much of a stretch. But it was stupid to think this would somehow bring back the support of the people who were rebelling or thinking to join in. Aenys looked up at her, with his lilac eyes wide.

It was almost uncanny, the resemblance he had to Rhaenys at times. Everything from that tone of voice, to those eyes, wide and almost silently pleading for her approval. But it was never really her approval that Rhaenys nor Aenys were ever after, but rather a way to lift the guilt off their conscience for what they did, Rhaenys with all the bullshit with Aegon, and now Aenys for sending Maegor away. It irritated her to no end. It was gnawing at old scars that hadn’t yet healed, no matter how many years passed. 

“I… I wished for you to hear it from me, not along with everyone else. You’re my aunt.” he admitted softly, his confidence deflating. Visenya frowned further. She had promised Rowan she’d try, for the good of all her hard work. As if she’d ever let Aenys ruin what she had built.

“Alright.” she nodded plainly.

“Alright?” he asked in disbelief. He looked to the ground, as if to gather his thoughts before looking back up at her. “That’s all you have to say about the news? Soon you’ll have another great niece or nephew, and there’ll be a huge wedding for your eldest two, the future of our house, and you won’t even ask about them, or be involved at all?” he asked, his tone accusing, but his voice cracking slightly. She let out a bewildered sigh. Rowan couldn't say she didn’t at least try.

“I’m so sorry, Aenys, should I toast to all your names and throw flower petals on the path before you?” she asked, her voice full of sarcasm as she turned to face him completely. It was comical, really. Did he want a pat on the back for following a tradition that was in their history for ages and ages?

“That’s not what I’m saying at all! You’re always so closed off and detached from our family, don’t you want to be part of it? Won’t you at least try?” he said, his tone getting a bit louder, as he seemed so frustrated with his aunt. Visenya only scoffed. He was an idiot.

“Gods, you’re just like her in the worst ways possible, you know that? I apologise, nephew, if my existence has disturbed your picture perfect family. Perhaps you can exile me as well, that could solve your problems, don’t you think?” she asked snarkily, crossing her arms, silently daring him to continue with his tantrum. Aenys shook his head, seeming to expect her to bring up her son.

“I know you’re angry about Maegor, but please, do not bring my mother into this.” he said, trying to calm himself down, looking angry. Visenya was almost impressed that he was even capable of being angry and had she not been so irritated by him, she’d even praise him for it.

“She was my sister for far longer before she was your mother.” she spat out, looking down at her pathetic mess of a nephew. She took a moment to look at him again. She wondered if Rhaenys and Aegon were proud of the man they raised. She certainly wouldn’t proudly claim him as a child of hers. “Would that be all?” she sighed, turning to leave. This conversation was going nowhere.

“What?” he asked, his voice exasperated. He looked at her, opening and closing his mouth a few times, deeming what he wanted to say not worthy of being spoken, or maybe just gathering his thoughts. Visenya turned to face him again.

“Do you want to say anything else to me, or are we done here?” she asked, her tone now entirely condescending and mean. What exactly did he want out of this? 

“I was hoping to have a civil conversation with you, one that wouldn’t end like this, but you’re always on the defence, acting like everyone is against you!” he pinched his temple, shaking his head and looking away in disappointment. That did it for Visenya. Any reservations she had, were now gone. She was done holding her anger back.

“You sent away my son, my one and only son, what exactly are you expecting from me? Do you want me to coddle you and tell you it will all be alright and that you’re doing a really good job and then pretend things aren’t falling apart at the seams? Is that what you want from me, because mommy and daddy aren’t here to do that anymore and all you’re left with is me?” she yelled, perhaps not yelled, but it was definitely louder than she intended it. 

“I’m trying! Don’t you see I’m trying?” he yelled back in desperation, his eyes big and pleading. “You think I ever imagined father would die so soon and so suddenly and that I’d be King this young? I thought I had years to spare, to learn from him, to be guided. Yes, I sent Maegor away, he went behind my back, you both did, and now look at all that’s caused! I’m drowning here, and you’re just standing back and shaking your head!” he yelled, his hands moving around him making gestures in the air, anything to let out all his frustration.

“What is it that you want from me, Aenys?” she asked him plainly, tired of this grown man throwing a pathetic tantrum because his aunty wasn’t nice to him. 

“Help me! Why are you just sitting back and watching me drown? Does it bring you joy, or some sick sense of vindication that your sister’s son is failing?” he asked, his voice cracking more, his tone accusing, his eyes pleading. It was insane to her how quickly he could melt into a nervous mess. In what world was this the son and heir of Aegon the Conqueror? In what world would this mess continue the Targaryen line and fulfil the prophecy of Aegon’s dream? She’d show them all that choosing Aenys as heir was a mistake. 

“You’re just as pathetic as her at times. Why do you think that everything was going well when Maegor was here? Because he has authority, people listen to him. Do you think they listen to you? There are rebels? Send armies to kill them and make an example of them, instead of sitting here all sad in your solar, wondering why they don’t worship you.” she spat out, eyes staring into her nephew’s. He looked like an overwhelmed mess, and if she were any crueller, Visenya would send him to his mother’s old room so he could hide in there.

The sound of the door creaking open made both of their heads turn to see who interrupted the heated discussion. Visenya let out a small sigh of relief when she saw Rowan’s familiar face, her eyes looking between her and her nephew. It was like she could read the tense air in the room and she gave Visenya a small frown. To her defence, she did try.

“Your grace?” she asked softly, looking toward Aenys, who also seemed to deflate from the argument. He now looked like he was glad for the interruption, as if she saved him from having to acknowledge what Visenya told him and give her a response.

“Rowan? Come in, what is it?” Visenya said, wondering what the matter was. She knew there was a bit more distance between them and Rowan did not fully tell her what she was up to during her day anymore, but she did know that she started spending more time in the city rather than the castle. Perhaps the walls of the keep became too unbearable for her. Rowan seemed to hesitate.

“I wished to speak to his grace, but I can come at a better time. I do not want to interrupt anything.” she replied, looking between the two once more, giving Visenya a more questioning look. She didn’t have to do much thinking to imagine how the conversation went about, but she would want to ask her why she lost her patience with the King.

“Speak freely, my girl, the conversation has come to an end.” Visenya said plainly, before Aenys even had the time to speak up. She doubted Aenys would seek her council again, seeing as he deemed the most natural responses to conflict as being too harsh. She wanted to laugh. Did her fool of a nephew think his father would ever hesitate this much or tolerate any kind of disrespect? 

“Yes,” Aenys sighed in relief, “please tell me. Is something the matter?” he asked, now avoiding looking at Visenya and completely focused on Rowan. The young Evergreen gave the King a sympathetic look, as if to soothe his worries. Visenya knew Rowan shared the same complaints as she did, but she had a much gentler approach to dealing with them. The fact that she didn’t have the same familial ties to Aenys sure helped a lot too.

“It’s about the sept’s orphanage, your grace.” she started. “With the city’s population growing, it’ll soon reach its full capacity. My family have been long term patrons, and Ceryse wishes for house Hightower to contribute as well, but for a project of this size, your approval is needed.” she said, her proposal clear and complete. If only all of the lords and ladies were this efficient. Visenya knew Duncan since before he had Rowan, and he was always focused on the poor and needy people of the realm, it was no surprise he took his daughter with him when he visited the sept and the orphanage. She was always a very caring girl.

“A noble cause, my lady.” Aenys said with a small smile. He was glad this wasn’t another problem to add to the giant list that kept growing, but instead something good that didn’t require him to do anything. “When exactly do you think these plans will begin, and how long will it take to complete?” he asked, eyeing the scroll Rowan held in her freckled hands.

“Around a year, if we begin right away, your grace. The architect has already drawn up the plans, if you’d like to see them.” she said, returning the smile to him, which made him relax even more. She walked toward him, handing him the plans, and Visenya was sure Rowan could explain the littlest detail if Aenys wanted to know more, or was less exhausted. Her nephew looked over the plans, nodding in approval. Visenya walked closer to take a look as well, which made Aenys flinch. The plans were complete, or as close to complete as they could be, and the final structure was a beautiful one, in the style of the Reach. 

“I’m not sure how much the crown can contribute, with the building of the Red Keep, along with… future events, I cannot guarantee much to this project.” Aenys spoke up, his tone and eyes apologetic. Visenya almost let out a chuckle. She often compared Aenys’ actions to what Maegor would’ve done as King, and in this case, he wouldn’t even ask any questions. He’d let Rowan have free reign over anything she showed interest in, with as much gold as she needed. It was a good thing that Rowan was not a greedy person. 

“No need to worry, your grace,” Rowan was quick to relieve his worry, “houses Evergreen and Hightower have more than enough to finance this. I plan to remain involved with the process, perhaps it would be good for you to visit, for the people to see their King. They haven’t seen you since you ascended the throne.” she suggested gently, with a small smile. Visenya was glad. Rowan was pulling herself out of the sorrow she’d been drowning in since Maegor and Ceryse’s marriage, and finally getting involved in the things she loved again. She wondered if it had anything to do with the letter Maegor had sent. Regardless, Visenya was happy to see the young girl be more active. It was also a great thing that she was so involved with the smallfolk, whose support Aenys was losing, despite his walls of denial.

“Then, you have my approval, my lady. I’d love to meet with the Septon and the architect.” he said, his eyes now much less tired and gloomy. Rowan’s approach was quite effective. If Aenys wouldn’t listen with reason and facts, perhaps her soft words could lead him to the right path. Visenya would have to talk to her about this later. For now, she let the two smile.

“Thank you, your grace. The children will be more than grateful.” she slightly bowed her head in gratitude. Visenya looked at the plans again. They were very well thought out. And it was good Rowan involved Ceryse in them as well. Once Maegor took the throne, it would provide a better transition of power if his wife was beloved by the people.

“So, let me get this straight, he had a whole set ready for you to use?” Tyanna asked, an amused smile on her lips. She seemed to be very amused at any details Alys wanted to share about her more private parts of her life, especially when it came to Maegor. She didn’t blame the Pentoshi beauty for being so curious, anyone in her place would be, and Alys really appreciated her discretion, as she desperately needed someone to talk to.

They were sitting on the small balcony in Tyanna’s home, as she had graciously invited her, and trying out different blends of tea. The one she was sipping on was bold and bright, one of Tyanna’s favourites. The woman’s home was modest, but beautiful, as beautiful as she was. She took great care to decorate it carefully, and it just looked so lovely. Alys was impressed that this was the home of a tea seller and tavern dancer.

“Yes! And he handpicked the dress I was to wear! He was looking through all my things, trying to see which one he’d prefer. And then, after we were done, he said he’d send instructions to the maids, so they can prepare me for him!” Alys explained, still buzzing from the night before. She was almost tempted to show Tyanna the bruises Maegor’s hands had left on her hips because of how roughly he was holding onto them.

“You seem very surprised, why is that?” Tyanna asked, taking another sip from her tea, her intense red lip stain smudging on the brim of the cup. Alys hoped she wasn’t bothered by her staring at those small details, but it appeared that she greatly enjoyed it. She didn’t show any indication of discomfort or unease.

“I don’t know, I just never imagined he’d be so picky and specific about what he wanted.” she admitted. Maegor was truly the last person she’d think would be so selective, but she supposed it made sense for a Prince. She had more pictured him being careless and quick, not so thorough and rough. “But I suppose it’s a good thing that I have a clear idea of what he wants me to do. This way I can give him a son quickly.” she sighed.

He gave her exactly what he promised. She was out of that boring small town, away from her boring life, and she now got to have a ridiculous amount of gold to her disposal, in a brand new, exciting place that was so different from her little town in Westeros. Alys had everything she ever wanted. Though, as she looked at Tyanna, she supposed wanting a little bit more wasn’t entirely out of the question.

“Does it not bother you that you won’t have your family here to support you? Through pregnancy and birth, I mean.” Tyanna asked, catching Alys a bit off guard. Her family? Yes, she supposed it was a normal thing for a woman to want her family by her side as she gave birth, but Alys hadn’t thought that far. She supposed Tyanna would want her mother by her side, since they were so close, but Alys’ mother was long gone.

“I mean, I haven’t given it much thought. My sisters and I aren’t super close, but I suppose it wouldn’t be bad to have them by my side. My father was never one to comfort my mother through her labours, so I doubt he’d be much help anyway.” she trailed, looking down at her tea. She always found her sisters annoying and boring, but she couldn’t deny that through the pain and terror of childbirth, their presence could be reassuring.

“Doesn’t the idea of being all alone during this scare you?” she asked, concerned at how nonchalant Alys was being about the topic. She wasn’t sure if she genuinely didn’t care much, or if she was just waiting to see what she’d do once the day got close, and she still had a long way to go. Either way, Tyanna looked a bit worried.

“I suppose, I wouldn’t be all alone. Not if you were by my side.” Alys smiled. Tyanna let out a small laugh. Alys wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard a laugh so beautifully musical in her life. Tyanna poured some more tea for herself, she noticed that she didn’t wait for it to cool, but drank it quickly while it was still hot.

“You truly think so highly of me, that you’d want me by your side at your most vulnerable?” she asked, sounding both amused and flattered. Alys nodded. The woman before her seemed to know exactly what she was doing and why, exactly the type of person who’d keep her nerves calm during something as intense as labour. 

“I can’t think of anyone better.” she said, slowly sipping from her cup once more. It’d be sweet, she thought, having her run her hands through her hair and holding her hand. Would it be truly necessary to be in labour to get Tyanna to hold her?

“You honour me, Alys, truly.” the raven hair beauty smiled, letting a small silence fall in the room as she was thinking. “Would the Prince not mind that you’d have a total stranger with you while you give birth? I mean, you saw how picky he is about an activity as casual as coupling, do you not think he’d have preferences on how his son would be born?” she asked, looking at Alys carefully. She shrugged.

“Perhaps if he knew how much comfort you bring me, he’ll allow it.” Alys replied, returning the woman’s gaze. And why wouldn’t Maegor know how much fondness Alys had for the woman before her? She doubted he’d care, hells, he might even be interested to watch the things Alys wanted to do. “I want to introduce you to him.” she announced, this time catching her off guard, which was a rare occurrence.

“Is that so?” she asked after she almost choked on her steaming hot tea. Alys was quick to offer her a napkin to wipe away the few droplets that fell from her expertly painted lips.

“You mean to tell me someone as well connected and informed as you, does not want to meet the talk of the town?” she laughed. “It’ll be great, and then you can come over to our home and we can enjoy our time together there. It’s much bigger and I’d love to treat you to more delicious food.” Alys offered. She felt like it was the next logical thing to do, was it not?

“If you insist, who am I to deny you?”

It had been another night where Maegor had sent for her and she came to his chambers, dressed in green, smelling of jasmine, and he took her like he normally did. She was laying on her back again, with a pillow holding her hips higher in hopes his seed would take soon. It had become a routine of sorts. He’d finish, she’d lay on her back for a while and then he’d send her away. She turned to look at him, as he was washing his hands, getting himself ready for bed as soon as she left. He sat back down on the bed, looking rather distracted, and Alys decided this was a good time to bring it up.

“Have you ever been in a pillowhouse?” she asked, catching him by surprise. He never cared for her attempts at smalltalk, in fact, he was a man of very few words, commands rather. His unsettling violet eyes looked at her suspiciously.

“Where is this coming from?” he asked, his voice rough as always. It made a shiver run down her spine, but she did not want to appear guilty. Besides, she hadn’t done anything! She looked at her hair, playing with a curled strand to keep her hands busy.

“Well, Tyanna, you know Tyanna, my friend from the tavern, she has a lot of connections around here. One of her friends works in a pillowhouse and she hears whispers about what all these men are into, their fantasies and stuff.” she said, looking up at him, trying to see where his moods were today. It was not out of this world to think a prince of the realm would have visited luxurious pillowhouses to enjoy himself. And yet she couldn't quite picture him doing that.

“You’re awfully chatty today. What is it, get to the point.” he crossed his arms, his frown permanent on his face. His hands were rough from all the time spent training with sellswords, and by the gods, sometimes it hurt when he grabbed her roughly, when he had a lot of frustration pent up. She liked it, in a way. 

“I only brought it up because I was curious about any fantasies that you might have, so that I may fulfil them for you.” she looked up at him with a sweet smile, but it did not phase him much. It was like she was conversing with a stone wall. He was silent for a few moments, his eyes darting away from her, taking a moment to think about her proposal. 

“Just keep doing what I tell you to. It’s sufficient enough.” he concluded, and it was Alys’ turn to frown. Not out of any true concern for him, but because she wanted to get her way. 

“I mean, why settle for sufficient when it could be great? You know, Tyanna hears whispers of all the things that go on in the pillowhouses. Some men like it when a woman dances for him, others like it when she sings… some love it when they take two at a time…” she said suggestively, twirling her hair and looking up at him again.

“So you want to bed her, this friend of yours.” he said plainly. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Alys felt the breath leave her lungs entirely. Did he see right through her? Surely any man would love to invite another woman in his bed, even more so with the blessing and participation of his wife, so why was her heart pounding?

“Would you not find it exciting to watch, to have two of us giving you pleasure? She’s very beautiful, you know.” she managed to find her voice again, eyes darting somewhere on the ceiling, to avoid those eerie and suspicious eyes. Maegor scoffed.

“Why would I invite a complete stranger into my bed? Because you wish to bed her and want to frame it as some gift to me?” he looked at her like she was pathetic for even trying to hide her true intentions. To her defence, she had hoped she was a better liar. Tyanna told her it was every man’s dream, surely he’d come to admit it to her. Maybe she brought it up too soon, maybe she should’ve waited a bit more, but she couldn't get Tyanna out of her mind.

“Would that be so bad? I think something new and exciting will lift your spirits! She knows a lot, you know, she can teach me, prepare me for you!” she countered, looking back at him. She never thought she’d ever be pleading with her husband to let another woman join in their bed, it should be the other way around, but then again, he was a strange man.

“That should be enough time. You can leave now.” he sighed, motioning for her to get up. She carefully did, trying to not mess up the towel he had placed under her to avoid mess. He was so stuck on his ways, surely he needed to loosen up.

“Just meet her. You’ll see!” she pleaded, wrapping her robe around her half torn green nightgown. She didn’t care much for it, she knew he had commissioned a line of new ones for her. Imagine all she could do with Tyanna next to her. Maegor still shook his head, much to her confusion.

“If you want to fuck her, fine, be my guest. As long as you perform your duty to me and bear me a son, I don’t care what you do.” he said, his tone leaving no room for any more pleading. It was a strange but freeing arrangement that he had set up for them, but still, Alys wanted it to work. Maegor needed to relax and open up about sex, she didn’t know how much of the routine she could take without dying of boredom.

“I still want you to meet her, husband. We’ll make you feel good, I swear it.” she promised him as she made her way to the door. Tyanna was skilled. She could teach her, guide her, please her… Alys wanted it all.

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