#why are you afraid of implying shes even SOMEWHAT sympathetic and just want to say she was gonna do that regardless

[perenlop]

i get the frustration with so many villains now getting treatment like “oh they had a sucky childhood so actually you need to feel bad for them and not hold them accountable for their actions” but the counter of “this person was born evil and cant ever grow and its pathetic to assume that they can, also people cant be redeemed no matter what and this is fantastic writing actually” is so exhausting. 

[hyperfixatedcatlover]

The Beauty's Rebirth Chapter 1 - Casting Call

Alright here's chapter 1! Please don't hesitate on giving constructive criticism. Once again, I have no idea wth I am doing nor do I know where I am going with the story.

TW: Starvation, implied child abuse, implied claustrophobia, implied yandere behaviors.

MDNI

Prologue - Chapter 1 (You are here) - Chapter 2

"So tell us, how long was becoming a model your dream?"

You blink, and smile sheepishly, before answering,

"Well, it never was that much of a dream for me to be honest. It was just a job to get a roof over my head."

"Really?" The host asks looking shocked, "The most famous model in all the galaxy never even dreamed of it? How does that happen? Did you fall on hard times?"

You pause, having thought of a fake backstory before hand, one that hides the truth while revealing little tidbits. You aren't [Y/N] Ivy anymore, she died when your parents dropped her fake body in their living room for the servants to discover.

"You see, my parents one day told me that I'd be going to a stay with a relative on another planet. They gave me a duffel and shipped me off. It wasn't till I got there did I discover the letter in my bag, telling me that they never wanted me in the first place and I was officially disowned. So I was only 15, lost on another planet, no money or anything. I found my Mother Agency and walked in, as it had started raining. There, they gave me a position to model for them, saying they'd provide a roof to stay under, and the rest is history!"

If only that were the truth. That would be easier to bear. Then you wouldn't feel guilty for eating three meals a day. Then you wouldn't be afraid of dark enclosed spaces. Then you wouldn't feel like you can't be anything less than perfect. If only.

"Oh, what a truly heartbreaking tale. Do you know why your parents would do such a thing?"

I can tell the truth here somewhat more at least.

"My mom was jealous of me. I guess my beauty was always there, even when I was a mere child."

"And your father?"  

"He never saw me as a human, more of some ornament for him to show off."

"Some people just don't deserve to be parents." The host says as he makes a sympathetic face and puts his hand over his heart. 'At least he seems genuine for this.' You think to yourself.

The interview continues, going in a more positive direction, maybe you are not as good at hiding your emotions as you thought. Doesn't matter though, you don't like reliving the past. It hurts too much. It sometimes feels like you traded the stone cage from your parents for the gilded cage of fame. But what else can you do, you never received enough education to get into any academy, just enough to read and write well

"Good wives must have the skills to be their husband's secretary! How will you ever do something with your appalling grammar?"

"Mother, I just forgot a comma! I'm sorry!"

"Are you talking back to me girl? I should've known I was being too soft on you. Bring me my belt servant!"

As the maid disappears from the room, you begin to tear up, knowing what was coming.

You blink out of the memory, as the host begins his last question.

"Now, for anyone out there who want s to be a model, what do you have to say?"

"The standards for beauty are high, but don't let them stop you. Don't stop eating trying to get skinnier, don't spend thousands of credits trying to get clearer skin. True beauty comes within, it's a shame that not many people believe that in this industry."

The crowd applauds you as the host grabs your hand to help you stand up and take a bow, smiling for the camera one last time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a shiny office with a model city's lights twinkling, a halovian watches the TV with a raised eyebrow. He calls his hounds to go dig up the grave of a friend he had never fully believed that she was long dead. He has an investigation to do, after all, no rotten branches can be in his family and the family's lost sheep must be guided home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On a ship somewhere in the galaxy, the only sound other than the video game sound effects coming from the girl beside him is the television. What it is about you that captivates the beast is unsure, maybe he wants to corrupt you, maybe he wants you to fix him, but something carnal inside of him craves you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a lecture hall where the chalk board is teeming with mathematic equations, the doctor looks at the interview one of his students was watching in class. After confiscating the screen, he notices your face and gets the inescapable urge to sculpt it. It won't be anything like the real thing, but he desires it more than anything right now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a gambling hall where the stakes are high and the tension is palpable, a gambler looks at the interview over the shoulder of his arm candy for the night. Seeing such a beautiful gem on screen makes him feel the desire to win her, no matter how high the stakes are.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a living room with a few scattered swords his adopted son has yet to put up, the dozing general finds the interview on TV and decides to watch it. Her eyes stir something in him, a desire to hunt her and save her from the abundance, after all, she seems like the kind THEY'D try to steal from him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A trickster on a planet of ice and snow watches the broadcast with an honorable captain. Both seem enthralled in someway, but one is blushing brightly and another seems curious about how she'd look with tears in her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a dingy bar, a cyborg watches the static-filled screen show her beautiful face, still lovely despite the static. He gets that tingle in his metal bones that he got ever since he lost her, the one that said his wife was in danger. He doesn't know why he feels the need to protect you, but it won't leave him alone, and who is he to deny his emotions?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On a planet where a knight has stopped to refuel his ship, he falls to his knees seeing the interview on a screen. In his very soul, he knows that the woman showed is his lost Aeon of Beauty, and knows that he will stop at nothing to bring her to the Knights to be properly worshipped.

[thespacelizard]

The Short-Lived Journal of Apprentice Ashenivir Zauvym

@fluffbruary day 21 - a little experiment today, trying to branch out somewhat. up on AO3 here. (cw referenced/implied past sexual assault)

In which Ashenivir tries journalling about it.

The following papers might be found, if one cared to look, between the pages of an old spellbook belonging to one apprentice Ashenivir Zauvym, of the Mythen Thaelas College of Arcanum.

I’ve no idea how to start this. It’s Keszriin’s idea anyway—she thought it might help, after—

There follows a smeared passage, the ink clearly scrubbed out whilst still fresh.

What point is there in writing down awful things? I have more important things to remember, like the circle constructions for the summoning aptitude exams at the end of the month. Although, I hope they won’t be able to tell I’ve been involved with a summoning already. That doesn’t leave a mark in your connection to the Weave, does it? I don’t think it does, there’s no reason why it should.

No. It doesn’t. Ri Master Velkon’yss would have mentioned if it did. He wouldn’t have let me summon the construct with him if it was going to cause me trouble later. He’s made it very clear that focusing on my studies is paramount. Which is to say, more important to focus on than—

The next several paragraphs are thickly lined out, leaving most of the passage illegible. The words collar, on my knees, service, and can’t think straight are all that can be made out.

I didn’t need to write all of that. Why did I write all of that? Why am I still writing any of this!

Because I’m avoiding an essay, that’s why. It’s not hard, just tedious. Riz Master Velkon’yss is right; I’m not getting anything from that alchemy class any more. But if I change it, it’ll mean dropping one of Rizeth’s Master Velkon’yss’ classes, and his are more useful to me than a different alchemy Master would be.

Alright, that’s not entirely true. I know I’m not supposed to prioritise certain other things but I can’t help it. Whatever notions Keszriin has about ‘writing things down’ being helpful, the scenes help more. They clear my head better than anything ever has since I stopped dancing. I’d be feeling a lot worse if I didn’t have them, and while Keszriin’s been very sympathetic, I can’t stand being constantly asked if I’m okay, if I need anything. I love her, but I honestly I just want to forget about it. Rizeth gives me the space to forget.

I did worry, though, after what happened. That I wouldn’t want to attend Rizeth any more, I mean—it would be just my luck to have finally found what I need only for someone else to ruin it for me. I don’t know if I should be worried that that was what I was worried about; it’s weird, right, to be afraid you won’t want to be treated the way Rizeth treats me, after something so awful?

Keszriin, this isn’t helping at all, I hope you know that.

At any rate, I’ve been…fine, I suppose. And I’m so glad Rizeth didn’t stop sending for me, for studying and otherwise. He doesn’t treat me like I might break. He just follows our usual rules and leaves it for me to decide what I’m capable of—and I’ve been good! I don’t try and push myself—I know that doesn’t impress him at all—and I think he’s proud of that.

It’s hard to tell with him, but I’m getting better at reading his expressions. He’s very subtle.

Ugh, I should finish that essay. For one thing, if I don’t do it and Rizeth finds out, I’ll be in trouble—and not the fun kind. Academic infractions always get real punishment; like I wrote, my studies are the most important thing, no matter how much I’d rather spend my evenings—

A very heavily crossed out section covers the remainder of the page. The only word visible through the dark streaks of ink is Master.

That’s quite enough of this experiment. At least I can tell Keszriin I tried, and that it definitely made me feel better, and she needn’t pester me about it any more. I don’t need to write out my feelings to know what they are. There’s no point wasting time and ink putting them on paper—they can stay in my head where they belong.

Though speaking of feelings…I should not have written all that down, I’m too distracted to work now. I’ll just fix that, then I’ll finish this essay.

A final note: this journal is tucked between spellbook pages containing the notation for a spell not found in the standard Arcanum curriculum. It consists of a short verbal incantation, a simple somatic gesture, and the intriguing material component of ‘a small smear of bodily fluid, such as spit, sweat, or whatever else might be readily at hand.’

There is no author attribution for the spell.

[vimbry]

Moominpappa for the ask meme I want to hear hot takes

so! alright, I should really say that a lot of those squares are my thoughts on the mv19 incarnation in particular lol. I think the novel characterisation of pappa, more so in the later works, is certainly deep and definitely horrible at times, but I like him as a character. being a flawed person doesn't mean I find him uninteresting, he serves in the penultimate story as the central source of the conflict and he does it well.

but if we're talking throwing every pappa into the pot at once, uh.

also this got lengthy. I mean LENGHTY lmao idk why pappa inspired so much analysis but! here we go (there’s a tl;dr at the end)

basically, as much as I don't really want to make any arrogant assumptions about the writers behind that adaptation, because all sorts of creative differences could’ve arisen during production, in execution their version of pappa shows what seems to be a very weak understanding of his character in the books. mainly with the "island/at sea" arc. it's known that a lot of his traits were influenced by tove's own very bigoted, misogynistic, right-leaning - and by some accounts, unsurprisingly abusive - father. like the rest of her writing, he's not a 1:1 copy of people in her life, and she herself had mixed views on him as most people with deeply difficult parents do, so he's ofc portrayed as a far more sympathetic person than his inspiration.

but there's still elements of him being the forceful patriarch who, in their last appearance in the series, uproots his family out of selfishness and disregard for their own wants and needs as individuals. he thinks finding and maintaining this island will fill an empty part of him, be his purpose. he’s almost driven mad with how his self-appointed duty consumes him and comes to believe the island is alive, something taunting him that needs to be tamed, and through his growing ego is convinced that he can. throughout the book he belittles and almost alienates himself from his family, ignoring their own problems that have developed since living on the island, because he’s too wrapped up in his own opinions and vision. and while he hasn’t fully turned over a new leaf by the end, he does come to his senses somewhat, and his behaviour is at least treated contemptuously enough by the text that you understand his actions are always framed critically. (the tone, at least to me, sort of implies that altho it’d stated that he and mamma understand how to compromise, something in their relationship has irreversibly changed. sorta up to you as a reader how you take it I suppose!)

(seriously everyone who hasn’t yet READ this one it’s so good, it’s not just focused on pappa, mamma and moomin, and of course the fisherman, have their conflicts too).

whoever signed off on mv19!pappa seems to have "wow cool robot!”’d their way through the book(s). none of that depth is present there. instead, he's just a guy going through your standard mid-life crisis plot. he’s a buffoon with anger issues who got this idea about playing lighthouse keeper, and to me, that’s not as deep as they might’ve thought it was lmao. they do have the characters clash with him at points, but they never really fully commit to how damaging his actions are supposed to be, and he’s forgiven far too easily without even having had to develop as a character. pretty much every negative thing he does, he does in the book, too. with a fun mv19-exclusive moment where the family, rather than the mixture of concerned, frustrated, or mentally checked out they are with pappa/his goals in the book, are actively Afraid and flinchy around him. but because this is a condensed, watered down cartoon adaptation for small children (insultingly so imo, kids deserve better), they have to explicitly redeem him by the end, which is brought on by nothing more than him being self-deprecating and saying he doesn’t deserve his wife’s love, after never once apologising for his behaviour. he’s right, he doesn’t, get in the bin.

the rest of his characterisation throughout the show is similarly weak, but then everyone seems to have gone through the same process of flanderization. he doesn’t ever care about his son beyond seeing him as an extension of himself, he doesn’t treat mamma well except for when the writers throw in a shallow horny flirt in the place of actual chemistry, and none of this is really treated as a problem. and because we’ve yet to see “memoirs” adapted, the only other story where he’s the main focus, there aren’t enough postives to make him at least the slightest bit endearing to me. just a lot of stories where they rehash him being some boring, brash dude full of hot air who needs to learn a lesson about respecting his family and never does. this wouldn’t be problem if these flaws were treated as what they are, but the show’s incongruous tone presents these more as lovable comedic quirks. we’re told he’s supposed to be a good father to moomin and a likeable character, but nothing in the text ever backs that up. they basically just recreated a sanitised version of the actual viktor jansson without any awareness that they did.

anyway, going back to novel pappa - while there’s no explicit mention of any war in the books, the impact of both world wars is baked into the general world of the moomins. tove’s life was affected by her father’s experience fighting in the finnish civil war, and the very first story was being written during the final years of wwII. both this and “comet” function as a not-so-subtle allegory of the trauma and upheaval it caused. I’ve mentioned this many times before haha but it bears repeating, I think the mention of pappa disappearing before the events of “great flood” while travelling with the hattifatteners, a group of mindless wandering creatures who “tricked him” into going with them, is about the families who lost their men to war, spurred on by their governments’ propaganda to demonsrate their loyalty to their nations, to explore and fight alongside their friends. this deeper subtext of his character never really turns up again outside of a slight reworking in “tales”, not even in memoirs, but I do think shades of it are evident in his troubled personality in “island/at sea”. (it’s also noted that tove’s father was.. difficult after his time at war, and had quite a temper. I think the same influences can be seen in a lot of fictional fathers around these generations).

also '90s pappa tried to invent the dishwasher for mamma's birthday to make her life easier, and then helped plant a field of flowers in her image when he wasn’t able to, so you know he's done nothing wrong in his life ever

tl;dr uh book!pappa is a deceptively simple father figure on the surface with an interesting subtext and inspiration behind him which actually deconstructs the image of the powerful patriarch who got absolutely bungled in the new cartoon and I don’t like him there.

[astralaffairs]

put a ring on it 05 | philip hamilton

title: put a ring on it 05

pairing: philip hamilton x reader

words: 9.5k

warnings: another stupid cliffhanger, death mentions?, not much tbh

desc: You’ve never liked Philip Hamilton, and have always assumed the feeling has been mutual. But when you’re roped into pretending to be his girlfriend for a family reunion, you feel all your truths beginning to melt away, and find them instead taking form in his smile.

tags: @beepbeepstop @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @tf2germanvillain @ela-ena @abundant-stars @heytheredee-lilah @katierpblogg @thisshitfucks @celyndavies @quixoticallydelusional @sothisishappiness @ems-alexandra @yxseminx @sadhwstudent @aiifandomsunite @loonaynay @valleryhyde @lxncelot @checkurwindow @katierpblogg @alievans007@nyxie75 @ii-moonlight-ii @sothisishappiness @ems-alexandra @elegantbutedgy @maxi-ride @moose-on-the-l00se @itshaileyn @someinsanefangirl @theirishhufflepuff @golddiggs-x @drreamhugs @sillyteecup @notebookgirl30 @marvelouslyemily @checkurwindow @kmsmedine - lmk if u wanna b added

"Patsy, you've gotta help me. I'm freaking out."

You were slumped on the floor of the Hamiltons' bathroom by then, praying that no one would come and knock, ask to use it. To your relief, when you called, Patsy picked up the phone without hesitation - she'd been on alert, waiting for your SOS all weekend. However, the emergency call you were making didn't quite match the one she was expecting.

"Oh, god; what'd he do?" your roommate groaned from the other end of the line. "Am I gonna need to kick his ass the minute you two get back to town?"

"Shockingly, no," you mumbled, letting out a soft huff as your absent gaze fell to the green wall before you. "I... have a much different problem."

"What, did you fuck one of his cousins? Did the woman who offered to be your sugar mama a while back end up being his aunt?" Despite your state of panic, her words made you smile as you rolled your eyes. "Wait, holy shit, did you fuck him?"

You grimaced at her final question. While it didn't hit the mark, it was far too close to it for your comfort. "No, I absolutely did not."

"So what's the issue, then?"

"I... oh, god, you're definitely gonna make fun of me for this," you sighed, and Patsy didn't respond, instead waiting for you to continue. When you did, your voice was small, shaky. "I think I like him, Patsy. I really think I like him."

There was a skip.

"I'm sorry, is this some kind of a prank?"

"Patsy," you groaned, your head falling back against the bathroom wall, and she was quick to backtrack.

"No, no, I'm happy for you; don't get me wrong," she said quickly, pausing before she added, "I'm just surprised. What happened?"

"I don't even know. I just... he's really not the person I thought he was. So much of what I thought I knew about him was off base," you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. "How was I supposed to know he was secretly all caring and thoughtful? And he's so good with kids; god, it's adorable. Too much has changed this weekend; my head is spinning. I don't know what to do about it."

"Well, keep in mind that there's a reason he asked you to come home with him," she said matter-of-factly, and you furrowed your brow.

"What d'you mean?"

"Y/N," she sighed, "You two weren't friends. There was no world in which you would've agreed to be his cover story, but he still told his family he was dating you. You really don't think that was a little bit intentional?"

You scoffed. "Are you implying that he was projecting?"

"If the shoe fits."

"Patsy, it wasn't pointed; it was just convenient," you argued, pulling your knees into your chest, tucking the phone between your shoulder and your ear. "I'm his coworker. There are pictures of me and him together at work. I live far enough from the Hamiltons that it was easy to excuse the fact that I'd never met them."

"You're not his only coworker," Patsy replied, and you rolled your eyes at how certain she sounded.

"So who's to say I wasn't chosen at random?"

"Me. You spent years openly resenting him. You would've been the least convenient person in your office for him to pick," she pointed out, and you pursed your lips, playing absentmindedly with the edge of the shag carpet on the bathroom floor.

"I'm also the least insufferable," you replied. "Not to be anti-woman, or anything, but I don't have a single female coworker who I could spend a weekend with without going insane."

"Okay, so you can agree that he doesn't find you insufferable."

"That's a low, low bar."

"But don't you find it even a little bit weird?" You bit your lip at her words, and your brow was furrowed but your gaze empty. "Why would he need a fake girlfriend to begin with?"

That, however, made you wince. Even just hours before, you may not have known how to answer, but- "Actually, I have a hunch about that."

"Oh?"

"Unfortunately." You resented the sound of your own voice shaking as you remembered the scene you'd just fled, and apparently, any respite the phone call provided from the sinking feeling in your stomach was long gone. "His ex is here. She's crazy pretty, and she's totally sweet, and she's obviously still into him. She's even my dream girl. I think he asked me here to make her jealous."

There was a pause on her end of the line; all you received was static as she let out a sigh. "See, I don't buy that."

"Why not? It'd make perfect sense," you said irately. "He seemed to really want me to meet her, and, God, you shoud've seen how excited he looked to see her."

"If she's a family friend, you shouldn't be surprised that they're still on good terms. Haven't you ever stayed friends with any of your exes?"

"Not like that." You swallowed hard; Patsy couldn't see it, but your eyes were sullen, downcast as you recalled the interaction. Jesus, you'd been so stupid to get attached to him; it hadn't even been three days. You really, really should've seen something like this coming. You'd long known Philip to be self-interested, why should this be any different?

But he'd had no one to perform for when he'd spent the whole afternoon with you coddling his niece and nephew. He couldn't prove anything to anyone by the fact that you'd woken up in his arms two mornings in a row. He had nowhere to invoke how protective he'd been as his family dragged you this way and that, interrogating you all the while.

You realized you'd let your call go silent for several moments too long. "I dunno. It's just too complicated. I don't know what to think of any of it."

When she sighed, you recoiled at the loud rush of static that came from your phone. "I know you're not gonna like hearing this, but you need to talk to him."

"How the hell am I supposed to talk to him about this?"

"Be upfront. I'm serious, Y/N; your reservations about what you're feeling are all just you self-sabotaging, and you well know it." Though she wasn't wrong, her words left you on edge - if you were upfront with him, you hadn't a single clue how he'd react. "I know you haven't let yourself fall for anyone since John, but-"

"Please don't bring him into this," you said, the words weary. Patsy had known you for years; she could hear the grief building in the back of your throat before you could swallow it. She paused before speaking, and when she did, her voice was much softer.

"Sorry. I really didn't mean to, but..." You braced yourself for her to continue, your jaw tight. "It's the truth. It's been years. Don't you think it's time for you to stop holding yourself back from living?"

Your sigh was heavy; you would've even chalked it up as being born somewhat of your dramatics if not for the despair you couldn't stop from building in your voice when you responded. "Maybe it is. But I'm not ready to get hurt." The words were almost a whisper, as tearful as any cry. "I... I didn't even like Philip until two days ago; who's to say this won't just pass in another two?"

"I can't make that call for you, love," she replied, tone sympathetic. "But, please, don't self-sabotage out of fear. You deserve so much better than that."

"But I am afraid," you said, and you drew in a shaky breath. "How could I not be?"

"You've been working past all your fears for years, now. Years. It's time to stop being afraid."

"I..." you started, but you trailed off, knowing that putting up a fight wouldn't get you anywhere from there. "Thanks, Patsy. I think that, for now, I just need to clear my head. I don't want to do anything I'll regret."

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything else. Love you, Y/N."

At that, you gave a watery smile. "Love you, too."

You didn't move from your spot on the floor until the incessant drone of the dial tone into your ear became unbearable.

It was only minutes later that, after you'd exited the bathroom, flushed the toilet and washed your hands for good measure despite not having used it, ran almost directly back into Philip. He was in the dining room, chatting with Maria when you found him - or, really, when he found you.

You were hesitant to approach the pair, but when Philip noticed you, you could see him cut himself off mid-sentence, muttering something more to her before he made his way across the room to you.

"Hey, Hamilton." You offered him a weak smile, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Since when are we back to 'Hamilton,' hm?"

"Sorry. Just what I'm used to," you mumbled, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Still?"

You shrugged. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

"Alright, princess." He shook his head lightly, amusement written into his smile. "Where have you been? When I came in to find you, you weren't around."

Again, you shrugged. You were on edge, suddenly seeming to be at a complete loss for words. "I just ran to the bathroom. I'm back now," you said lamely, and he grinned.

"I can see that. You wanna come with me to get something to eat?"

You took a deep breath, trying your best to settle your fresh batch of nerves, and you nodded. "Yeah."

"Alright, let's go." He tipped his head toward the kitchen, and when you started in his direction, he reached over, looped an arm around your waist as he began to walk with you, but the sudden contact made your skin jump. You tensed in his hold, and he glanced over to you with a furrowed brow, concern written deep in his expression. "You okay?"

You exhaled shakily. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm just fine."

He pursed his lips. "You're sure?"

"Of course. Don't worry about it."

"Okay." He didn't seem convinced, though, as he looked her over once more. "Can we talk later? In private?"

You could feel your heart rate begin to pick up with the hesitance in his voice; your mouth was suddenly too dry to speak. You managed a tight smile and nodded; his expression didn't change. "So, dinner?"

-------

The next hour was tense. You couldn't avoid Philip's skeptical, sidelong glances; you couldn't avoid how you shrunk away every time he came just inches too close for comfort.

The past few days had become comfortable, a difference you couldn't help but find pleasant, but it was a change so gradual you almost hadn't noticed — that is, until it came rushing toward you all at once. You were constantly on edge, and his concern only seemed to grow. You tried to relax, but your nerves wouldn't let you, not as you questioned every fleeting touch, every lopsided smile.

Within an hour, nearly all of the family had been herded back outside, something you didn't mind in the least — the overcrowded lawn gave you an easy excuse to ignore Philip, focusing your energy on his little cousins and siblings. (You and Eliza Jr. had established quite the rapport; she'd provided the imaginary tea and cookies and was now filling you in on all the real tea in her brunch circle, including the failed marriage between her Barbie and her stuffed crocodile. It'd been toxic for both of them, or so you were told.)

As hard as you tried to forget the unfortunate epiphany that afternoon had brought you to, it remained perpetually at the surface of your mind, coloring every one of your interactions with Philip. His concern appeared to be unavoidable, too.

"Hey, princess."

You jumped at the feeling of Philip's hand coming to rest on your shoulder, tearing you from your scintillating conversation with your new four-year-old (tea) drinking buddy. You glanced back at him with wide eyes, a hand on your chest as though to still the rapid thumping of your heart, and he stood there with an eyebrow raised.

"Jesus. You can't just scare me like that," you said, seemingly winded, and he only laughed.

"My sincerest apologies."

"Oh, I'm sure."

He swung a folding chair out from the table behind you, turning it so he could sit beside you, facing his little sister with a grin. "So, what have you and Y/N been talking about? Have you been spilling all the family secrets while I wasn't around to hear?"

She let out a huff, seemingly put-off by his appearing. "No, we've been talking about my drama."

You couldn't help but grin when she folded her arms, wearing a stubborn frown, and Philip turned to you with a brow raised. "And what drama might that be?"

"I've been persuaded to act as a divorce lawyer for a crocodile and a Barbie."

"Oh, really?"

You nodded your frank confirmation. "I'm responsible for dividing up the assets."

That coaxed a chuckle from him as he glanced to Eliza. "Seems like a big job. Why wasn't I offered the position?"

"'Cause you aren't as nice as Y/N," she said matter-of-factly, and your eyebrows shot up. "You can't be mean to them while they're going through a divorce."

"Seriously?"

"You heard her," you said, casting Philip a look of faux contempt. "You have to be gentle with their feelings."

"And I'm not good enough at that?" He raised an eyebrow, and although his smile was still light, your conversation still surface-level, the broader circumstances left a heavy undertone in his words that put you on edge. You forced a smile.

"I wouldn't know."

"No, he isn't good enough at it, Y/N," Eliza Jr. insisted, yanking you abruptly from beginning to overanalyze his words. "You can leave us alone, Pip. We've got it handled."

"You're just gonna send me away?" he asked incredulously. She shrugged, and he turned to you. "C'mon, back me up, here."

"Actually, you should stay," you agreed, but at the tension in your tone, he furrowed his brow. "I'm going to go inside for a little; I need something to drink." You turned to Eliza Jr. with a smile. "Is it alright if Philip holds down the fort for a while with the divorce? I give him my full endorsement."

She huffed, folding her arms. "Okay. But don't stay away too long; my Barbie needs you."

"Thanks, Eliza. He promises he won't let you down; don't you, Pip?"

Although you offered him a light smile, the skepticism in his gaze didn't dissipate. "Yeah, of course," he ultimately said, turning back to his sister. "So, fill me in. What tore their marriage apart?"

You couldn't help your soft smile at how serious he looked as Eliza handed him the plush crocodile, but when he shifted in his seat, you flinched, figured he was about to turn to see you standing there stating at him. When he didn't, you took a deep breath and continued back toward the house. You were struggling to keep your bearings. Keep it together, Y/N.

Unfortunately, you'd spent the weekend so focused on Philip (too focused on Philip) that you hadn't bothered to give the layout of the house a second glance. The minute you stepped inside, you were essentially wandering.

You greeted Philip's family (and non-family) members in passing on your way, struggling to connect names to faces and forgetting whether the man who asked where to find Philip was John Laurens or John Church. They asked you if you needed help finding something, but no, you assured them you were just making a run inside to retrieve something from your suitcase.

That was how you found yourself in a secluded little library off at the far end of the first floor. You sank into the cool leather couch with a sigh, glad to be able to finally catch your breath — you could still see the reunion just outside the window, though, and the thoughts that'd had your head spinning all day didn't care to subside.

You only realized you were looking for him after you found him, still seated with Eliza Jr., but it seemed Eliza Sr. had found a role in the divorce proceedings, and you laughed quietly to yourself.

"Enjoying yourself?"

You jumped at the gentle voice that came from the doorway off to your left. You'd thought you were alone, but when you turned, you found a woman walking in to join you who couldn't have been more than 45.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you said quickly, standing up with wide eyes. "I didn't mean to intrude; I just—"

"No, none of that," —she waved off your apology, the wine in her tall glass sloshing about— "Eliza and Alex don't care where you go in their house. Their kids are seven too many for them to give a damn what happens to their property. You could trash the place, and they'd blame William."

You weren't quite sure whether you should stay, though. You froze in the process of standing up, eyeing the woman warily. She laughed. "What I mean is, relax. Geez."

Her easy nonchalance was putting you more at ease, and when you sat back down, she joined you on the other side of the couch. A moment passed, and you were about to fill the silence, but she beat you to it.

"So, I don't recognize you, which must mean you're the girl Philip tricked into coming home with him for a weekend," she said matter-of-factly, taking a sip of her wine.

"I..." you started, trailing off as you processed her words, and when she raised her eyebrows, you said, "yeah, I guess that'd be me. I'm Y/N."

"Oh, I know who you are. Think I've seen you in a few photos, but after the first five niece-in-laws, they all started to look the same," she sighed, clearly expecting you to commiserate with her. You were still stuck on trying to figure her out before you said anything you shouldn't.

She bumped her elbow into yours. "Don't look so scared. I'm not saying I'm expecting you two to get married anytime soon," she assured you. "Philip's never been great with commitment, either. You're the only long-term relationship he's had since high school, y'know."

So her quip about Philip 'tricking you into coming home with him' really was just a joke. The tension in your shoulders eased.

"I mean, we're taking things slow. One day at a time," you said, plastering on a smile. You hesitated. "But I'm sorry, have we met?"

She laughed, took another sip of her drink, and as she shook her head, you weren't sure what to make of how entertaining she was finding your question.

"No, no, not yet," she said. "I'm Philip's Aunt Peggy, Eliza's sister. Probably should've covered that before ambushing you in the library, huh?"

"That's alright." Your smile was candid, then. "It's really nice to meet you; Philip's told me quite a bit about you."

She cocked a dubious eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"

"Not at all." She was still eyeing you skeptically as she swirled her wine glass. "He's told me all your travel stories — I hear you're the fun aunt. Can you confirm?"

She shrugged it off, but her smile was wide. "Ah, he's just saying that because I sent the Hamiltons desserts in bulk when I was abroad. I'm just funding his materialism."

"To be fair, if any of my aunts sent me that much candy, they'd be my favorites, too," you reasoned.

"Aw, I'm his favorite?"

"Don't tell the others."

She snickered. "No promises."

"Well, if you do, don't rat me out," you warned, but your smile was amused. "You didn't hear it here."

"Alright, alright, I'll give you a pass," she sighed, "but only 'cause you're my favorite of the girls he's dated. You didn't hear that here, either."

"Don't make that call just yet," you said skeptically. "You hardly know me."

"No, but I've heard about you," she said. "I can tell you're better for Philip than any of his exes were. Just take me at my word."

"Seriously?" She nodded, and you eyed her dubiously. "What about Henriette? As far as your family's concerned, she can do no wrong."

The sidelong glance Peggy gave you was amused, but you shifted in your seat as she took a sip of her wine. "You don't need to worry about Henriette." Your eyebrows shot up. "I mean, don't get me wrong, she's a sweet girl."

The thought didn't seem quite complete, though, and you waited for her to continue. "...but?"

"But, well... at the end of the day, she was bad for him, and that was that," Peggy said frankly. "I mean, he broke up with her for a reason."

"He broke up with her?" The disbelief was clear in your voice, but Peggy didn't pay it any mind. She just nodded.

"Philip was head over heels for that girl, once upon a time." She turned to you, and your unease must've been written more clearly across your face than you thought. She gave you a comforting smile, rested a hand on your knee. "Don't look so worried, please," she reiterated. "Their relationship was unhealthy. Philip gave her the world, but she always wanted more. It took a toll on him."

"And what makes you think I'm any better?" you asked skeptically.

"Because he doesn't think you're perfect."

You furrowed your brow. "What?"

"I promise, that's a good thing," she assured you, but you weren't so confident in her words. She looked entertained at how taken aback you clearly were. In what world was that 'good'? "The reason none of his other relationships lasted was because he saw the women with rose-colored glasses. And I don't blame him; it happens."

"So, he's thought everyone else he dated was perfect?"

She nodded sagely. "He realizes that there are drawbacks to your relationship, love. There are drawbacks to any relationship, of course."

"Well, yeah."

"But he can actually see them, with you. And he still wants you. Don't discount that." She sounded wholly confident in her argument, but you only pursed your lips.

After a moment, she added, "He has a bad record of putting girls on pedestals. But I think he sees you for what you are."

"Someone with a lot of drawbacks?" Your gaze was still disbelieving as you eyed her, but she laughed.

"Well, I suppose." She turned to you. "But someone that's still worth it."

"Oh. Well, that's good, I guess." Your voice was soft, and Peggy squeezed your shoulder affectionately.

"It's rare, too. He's lucky to have found you." You pursed your lips. "So he'd better treat you right, or I'll set him straight. Just call up old Aunt Peggy; I've got your back."

The severity in her tone made you laugh, and she cracked a smile at your reaction. "I'll keep it in mind," you quipped. She nodded approvingly, and your smile was soft as she drained the remainder of her wine from her glass. "Thanks, Peggy."

"My pleasure."

Your eyes had wandered back to the window as you spoke, finding Philip easily as he crossed the yard with Georges and his wife, Emilie. They were talking enthusiastically; what they were saying was beyond you, but he laughed as Georges gave him a playful shove, and Emilie rolled her eyes at whatever he said next.

You didn't quite realize how soft your gaze was as you watched him, but Peggy did.

Moments later, when Philip happened to glance in your direction, he looked surprised to see you sitting there, but he grinned when he met your eyes. He gave you a short, timid wave, and you nodded back in greeting, the corners of your lips upturned. However, the interaction just drew Georges's attention to where you'd hidden yourself away, and when he saw you, his greeting was far more dramatic, waving, gesturing for you to come back out, apparently shouting something at you from outside (without a care in the world about the fact that you couldn't hear him). You couldn't help but laugh outright, returning his wave, and Georges turned to Philip. Whatever he said when he nudged him just made Philip shake his head, apparently exasperated.

"Do you love him?"

"What?" You turned with a start; Peggy's voice snapped you out of your reverie, and you felt like a deer caught in headlights. "Oh, I, um– Well–" You cut yourself off as she raised a concerned eyebrow, and you blinked hard, forced a smile as you gathered your bearings. "I mean... yeah. Of course."

You swallowed hard; how nervous you were was clearly apparent, and Peggy rested a hand on your arm, wearing an apologetic smile. "Oh, lord, I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that," she said. "I just assumed, y'know, after two years together, you two would've said that by now." When you pursed your lips, she was quick to backtrack. "And not that you should've! It's perfectly alright that you haven't."

"No, no, I mean, we have, I just..." you trailed off, unsure exactly how to justify your reaction. Peggy's dark brow knit.

"Then what's got you so nervous to confirm it? You two aren't having problems, are you?"

"No," was all you said, but there wasn't much conviction in your tone. When you met Peggy's gaze, you were relieved to see that the look in her eye wasn't of skepticism but was instead of concern.

"That answer sounded like it came with stipulations, love."

"No, it didn't," you assured her, but she raised an eyebrow. A beat passed. You swallowed hard. "It's just... how do you know if you love someone?"

Peggy tilted her head to one side. "Have you never been in love before?"

"I mean, I have," you acquiesced, and when you didn't go on, she filled the silence.

"So don't you know what it feels like when you're in love, then?"

"It's just... been a while." Your gaze drifted down to the printed rug before the couch, focus suddenly on how the toes of your shoes sank into the plush fabric. Peggy rested a hand on your shoulder.

"Is everything alright?"

You swallowed hard, gave her a reassuring smile. "Yeah. Yeah, it is, really."

"You can talk to me, y'know. I won't go spilling your business to the family."

"Yeah?"

"Of course."

"Well," you started, turning away from Peggy, gaze unfocused, "I don't know how I feel about Philip, honestly."

"You're sure there's no issue between you two?"

"It's nothing he's done," you said softly, and after you swallowed hard, you finally admitted, "but... I'm a widow. I haven't been with anyone else since my late husband, and it's been years, now."

"You're a widow?" she repeated, and you nodded.

"We married young. But since he passed, I..." You shrugged, feeling tears welling in the corners of your eyes. As you wiped them away, you offered her a weak smile in an effort to ease how silly you were feeling. "I mean, that was my last serious relationship. It's been hard to figure out how to proceed from there."

"I'm so sorry," Peggy said softly, and the concerned look she wore was genuine. "Come here."

She wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her side where you sat, and you gave her a grateful smile. "You're sweet, but I'm fine, honestly. It's been so long. But it might've left me with just a little fear of attachment."

"You poor thing; I can't imagine," she said, rubbing your upper back comfortingly. "But it's alright that you feel like this; you shouldn't feel guilty about being slower to open up."

"I didn't say I felt guilty."

"Do you?"

A long moment passed in silence, and eventually, you said softly, "...I mean, honestly? Yeah. It sucks to not be able to figure out what it is I'm feeling. I… I can’t help but think Philip deserves better."

"We've all been there at one time or another. Don't beat yourself up."

"How did you know you loved your husband?" you asked, and she pursed her lips, thought on it for a moment.

"Well, I'm certainly no relationship expert, so take this with a grain of salt," she said, "but I've told quite a number of people I loved them in all my life, and it took me quite a few failed romances to figure out which ones were real."

"Then how did you decide what love actually was?" you asked hesitantly, and Peggy's gaze was absent, faraway, but her smile was tender.

"I realized I was in love when being with them meant more to me than my freedom," she said. "That's why they never lasted. I spent my twenties traveling the world, jumping from job to job and partner to partner."

"'Partner to partner'?" you interjected, an eyebrow raised.

She shrugged. "Partner, significant other, whatever you kids are calling it these days."

"We say boyfriend, usually."

She gave you an amused smile with that, though, turning to again meet your gaze. "Oh, no, you misunderstand me," she replied frankly. "They were rarely men."

"Oh!" Your eyebrows shot up. "Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to assume—"

"That's just fine. No need to apologize." She shrugged, but she looked entertained at how panicked you were, immediately trying to backtrack. "But anyway, I was only willing to settle down with my husband when keeping my lifestyle would've meant losing him."

Your smile was soft. "That's sweet."

"Oh, is it?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "Well, good. I half expected you to think I was talking nonsense."

Her candid surprise made you laugh. "No, I appreciate it. It's been nice to have someone to talk to about all this."

"I'm glad." She nudged your arm lightly, wearing a small smile. "And I know you'll be fine. Take as much time as you need to figure it out; I have a feeling Philip will be there waiting for you in the end."

-----

You didn't go back outside after that.

The weight of everything you'd just unloaded onto his aunt hit you like a freight train, and her words stuck with you. You were second-guessing everything that'd happened that weekend, replaying all the little things you took for granted: the enigmatic advice Georges had apparently given Philip when you first arrived at your office all those years ago; what his niece had heard him saying about you. His teasing comments, the stolen glances, the accidental, fleeting touches that lasted just a moment longer than they should've. It all added up to one larger picture that you weren't sure you wanted to see.

And your theory that you were there to make his ex jealous was blown wide open the minute you found out Philip had been the one to end things with Henriette. (No wonder she'd been trying to trudge up their old memories.)

You refused to think any further than that; you knew the conclusions you'd have to draw would make all this so much more real. And that thought scared you more than anything.

You were pacing the halls of the Hamiltons' first floor. The only reason you finally went upstairs was because one too many cousins had asked you where you were going — you’d been telling people you were headed up to get something from Philip’s room for nearly the past half hour.

That was how you found yourself seated on the end of Philip's bed, reeling from the afternoon's events.

You did retrieve something from your suitcase, ultimately. The deep-red, velveteen box was soft under your fingertips as you played with it anxiously, picking at the sides but never quite working up the nerve to open it. It wasn’t like it’d been that long since you opened it, either; it couldn’t have been more than a week, but this time, when you flicked it open, staring down at the gold band and its tiny diamond felt different.

What would John think if he could see you there?

Patsy was convinced he’d only want you to be happy, and that he wouldn’t mind who you were with. She’d tell you it was time to move on with your life. But did moving on have to mean leaving him behind?

And falling for someone else felt like abandonment of the worst kind. It felt like you were cheating on him, like you and he were falling out of love. As much as you still missed him, as much as you grieved for him, every day, the memory of what it felt like to be his slipped further away from your grasp.

You ran your fingers over the cold metal of the ring, and your hands shook as you slipped it onto your ring finger. For a fleeting moment, you could almost convince yourself that you were still somebody’s wife.

Light footsteps padded down the hall outside Philip’s room, and they were quiet enough that they didn’t snap you out of your reverie until the door’s hinges creaked. Your heart stopped.

And to your relief, the person who opened the door was just six-year-old William.

“Philip, are you…” He trailed off when he saw you on Philip’s bed, but he didn’t miss a beat. “Oh! Did you see Philip in here?”

“Hey, William,” you said, but your accompanying laugh held a hint of anxiety. “Philip isn’t up here; sorry. Last I saw him, he was out in the backyard.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “Can you help me find him? Daddy needs him, but I don’t wanna make him sad ‘cause I don’t know where Pip is. I think he’s hiding from us.”

“Yeah, sure; I’d love to help,” you answered, and your endeared smile was candid. His determination was almost making you forget about your ring entirely.

“Thank you.” He seemed more than ready to drag you out of Philip’s bedroom, watching you eagerly as you hesitated to stand and go with him. You’d hoped he’d go ahead and let you catch up with him momentarily, but he stood there and watched you expectantly where you sat on the bed, and you apparently had two options: take the ring off then and hope William didn’t realize it was a wedding ring, or wear it out and hope you can find a time to hide it discreetly. The only issue was that you had no pocket to leave it in.

“No problem; let’s go.” You ended up choosing the former. William’s eyes didn’t leave you as you popped the ring’s box back open, and when you heard him gasp, your miscalculation became obvious.

“Is that a wedding ring?” he asked, and your eyes widened.

“No! No, it… I mean yes, but—”

“When did you and Pip get married?” Oh, fuck. Your pulse was pushing into overdrive. “Why wasn’t I invited to the wedding? What about Mama and Pops?”

“We didn’t… we didn’t not invite you, but—”

“But I wasn’t there.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, stifling a groan when he wore a deep frown. “Did your parents come?”

“No, they—”

“Why didn’t you and Pip tell us?” he asked. “It was a special location.”

Special loca…? “Special occasion?”

“That’s what I said.” He wore a pout. “Well, now we’ve gotta go tell everyone, c’mon.”

He turned and started running, and you swallowed hard. Oh, shit.

“Wait, William, come back!” you called after him, and you scowled when he didn’t stop. You had to finish putting the ring away before you could start after him — going back out to his family with it would only spell disaster. “William?”

By the time you took the ring off, tucked its box back into your suitcase, it seemed he was out of earshot. When you reached the bottom of the stairs, he was nowhere to be found; he’d weaved between his family members’ legs until he was out of sight.

Well, you were certainly, thoroughly fucked.

You began to wade through the crowd in the kitchen, eyes darting around the floor for any sign of a retreating William, going through room after room to no avail, but your heart rate was steadily increasing with every moment you didn’t find him.

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes until one of Philip’s family members approached you.

“Y/N?” Frances Laurens— no, Frances Henderson, who’d taken her husband’s name the previous summer, approached you from behind, and you spun around abruptly in surprise. “Hey, when were you going to tell us that you and Philip were engaged?”

Your throat tightened. “What?”

“William just told us.” She nudged you with a lopsided grin. “Congrats; welcome to the family.”

“Oh, no, there’s been a misunderstanding—”

“Wait, you’re getting married?” The William who interjected into your conversation was, unfortunately, not the one you were looking for. Instead, you followed the voice to find the younger Mulligan son standing with a beer.

“No, no, it’s not like… William just— well, not you William, William Hamilton—”

“Hey, William just told me you and Philip were finally getting married. What made you decide to tie the knot?” That was Georges, and your head jerked in his direction.

“Oh, thank god there’s going to be another woman at family dinners when he’s in town.” Angelica Hamilton approached from your left.

“Wait, what? Do you have a date for the wedding?” You hadn’t a clue which of the Lafayette sisters that was (well, you knew it wasn’t Henriette). “You better invite all of us. You might need a big venue to fit the whole family.”

Oh, god, you were in deep. It seemed William had managed to do quite a bit of damage without a whole lot of time.

“I need to talk to Philip,” you said, voice breathy. You knew you sounded winded, but his family all wore wide grins, patting you on the back or squeezing your shoulders — the Hamilton-Schuyler-Lafayette-Laurens-Mulligans were certainly a touchy-feely bunch.

“Yeah, where is your fiancé?” Georges asked, scanning the room.

“He’s not—”

“Hey, Philip!” It seemed he’d found him, yelling across the dining room, and Philip started toward you with his hands in his pockets, watching the crowd that’d formed around you curiously. “You ever planning on telling us you proposed? Or were you gonna wait till you had your firstborn, huh?”

Georges’s grin was wide as he shoved Philip affectionately, but Philip’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“William spilled everything. Congrats, you two,” Frances said, and when Philip met your eyes, you looked defeated.

“Oh, did he?”

“Relax, we’re all excited for you. No one’s mad that you hid it.” Apparently, you weren’t the only one who heard the tension in Philip’s voice as he glanced between you and Angelica warily, and she squeezed your upper arm with a smile. “It’s great news.”

“Yeah, no wonder you finally brought her home.” The Mulligan son— shit, his name was escaping you. Was it Wyatt? Winston? No, shit, what were you thinking? He was also William; how the hell did you forget—?

“I’m sorry, what exactly did Will tell you?” Philip asked hesitantly.

“He saw Y/N with the ring a little while ago. Not sure why you decided to hide such big news from us, but—”

“Right, can I have a word with my fiancée real quick?” He met your eyes with an urgent look, and you winced. “In private?”

“Oh, c’mon, it was an honest mistake; don’t be too hard on her,” Georges said. “Does it really matter? We were gonna find out anyway, so—”

“We’ll be back down in a bit.” Philip spoke through clenched teeth as he cut Georges off, walking toward you, and he grabbed you by the bicep, grip tight as he pulled you toward the doorway. Your breath caught when you stumbled forward. You were out of earshot before any of his family members could get another word in, and you struggled to keep pace with his long strides as he continued toward the staircase.

“Come on.” His voice was low when you reached the home’s entrance hall, and when he started upstairs to his room, you were quick to follow him. He locked the door behind you.

A moment passed in silence as he turned around to face you. The tension in the air was thicker than your ass.

He folded his arms.

“Care to explain why my entire family thinks we’re engaged?”

“It’s…” You rubbed your forehead as though it’d relieve your throbbing headache. “It was an accident. I swear it was; William just… he saw me with a ring, and he thought—”

“Why the hell did he think we were getting married? What’d you tell him?” Philip’s voice was rising as he spoke, and you had to swallow the lump building in your throat.

“I didn’t tell him we were engaged,” you defended. “I was just putting my ring back in its box, and he made an assumption. That’s it.”

“What ring?” he asked. “You aren’t wearing a ring. I haven’t seen you with a ring all fucking weekend. Are you fucking with me right now?”

“Of course not.” You huffed. “What, do you think I did this on purpose? That I wanted your family to think we were engaged?”

“I don’t know, did you?”

“No; why would I?”

“Oh, be honest, Y/N. You just agreed to come home with me this weekend so that you could fuck with me, didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry, do you really believe I’m just here to make your life harder? That I want to push you deeper into your stupid fucking lie?” you asked incredulously. “I came to cover for you. Because you told them we’d been together for two years.”

He scoffed. “Please, like you wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to mess with my personal life. Let’s face it; we both know you’ve never liked me.”

“We weren’t friends, but I’ve never had any sort of vendetta against you.” Your scowl deepened, and you shook your head in disbelief.

“You told me that you were the one person in our office who hated me. Word-for-word,” he retorted. “Did you do this to get back at me for using you as my fake girlfriend?”

“I don’t hate you.” He didn’t think that it was reasonable for your tone to be that defensive. “I've never hated you; I… I was just being dramatic. And even if I did have it out for you, I wouldn’t do this to your family.”

“Then why didn’t you tell William that we weren’t engaged?” he asked. “Hm? What the hell happened that my entire family managed to learn that you’d told him we were getting married in all of five minutes?”

“I tried to tell him we weren’t, but he was asking about the ring, and—”

“You should’ve told him it wasn’t an engagement ring!”

“I tried to! He asked if it was a wedding ring, though, and…” Your voice trailed off. The smallest shreds of a sob were building in your throat, and you were trying to speak through them, but your chest was tightening.

“And you didn’t set him straight?”

“It was a wedding ring, Philip. He stopped me before I could explain that we weren’t getting married, and by the time I could go after him, he was already downstairs. I lost him in the kitchen; I couldn’t stop him,” you said. “I swear, I tried to prevent this.”

A moment passed in silence. His gaze was absent, fixed on the floor, and he was shaking his head ever-so-slightly in disbelief.

“Why’d you have a wedding ring if you didn’t come here planning to fuck up my family life? If you didn’t wanna bury me further in this stupid lie I told to get my family off my back?” he asked. “Were you wearing the wedding ring?”

You nodded. “He came in, and I tried to hide it before coming downstairs, but—”

“Why the hell were you wearing a wedding ring?”

“I only put it on for a minute!”

“Why do you even have one? And why would you bring it home this weekend?”

“It’s…” Your jaw ached as you tried to keep yourself from crying. You blinked back the tears that stung the corners of your eyes and sat on the edge of his bed. You didn’t want him to see the old emotions that were breaking loose. “It’s old. I got it years ago.”

“What? Why?” The incredulity in his voice was making you cringe, and he threw his hands up in frustration. “What am I supposed to do with this, Y/N? You really expect me to believe that you wearing a wedding ring around my family was completely innocent? That you didn’t—?”

“I’m a widow, Philip.” You nearly had to shout to be loud enough to cut him off, and while he’d begun pacing in agitation, your words made him freeze.

He turned to you. “...You what?”

“I’m a widow,” you repeated softly, and his wide eyes met yours as he saw the tears building in them.

“I…” He started to reply, but his voice faltered. All the anger had been wiped from his expression, replaced quickly with surprise, apology, worry. “Shit, Y/N. I… fuck, I’m sorry, I had no idea.” His voice was quiet.

“Don’t be. You couldn’t have known.” You wiped at your left eye when the first tear rolled down your cheek. “It’s not like I ever talked about it.”

When he took a seat beside you on the bed, his hand came tentatively to cover yours. You drew in a shuddering breath. “Still. I’m sorry I… well, that I blew up like that. I didn’t mean to bring up your past like this; I—”

“It’s fine, Philip. Really.” You laced your fingers into his, squeezed his hand reassuringly. “No one expects a 26-year-old to be a widow. I don’t blame you.”

He nodded when you glanced up at him, and goosebumps ran up your arm when he swept his thumb over the back of your hand. “What was his name?” he asked quietly, and you pursed your lips.

“John.” You sniffled. “We met in high school, got married just after we graduated college.” Although you paused, he didn’t say anything, giving you room to pause, take a breath, and you knew that if you wanted to go on, he was there to listen. “We… god, we were so happy, for a while. I followed him to New York for college; I swore I’d never plan my life around a man, and I knew he wouldn’t ask me to, but I didn’t want to live without him. I was so sure that we wouldn’t break up, so I didn’t think we had anything to lose.”

Your voice was devolving into a croak as you went on, and you had to swallow your whimper when you came dangerously close to crying. He could hear your words breaking.

It caught you off guard when Philip wrapped an arm around your waist, pulled you into his side. The action was hesitant, and his grip on you was soft; he half expected you to recoil from his touch, but when you pulled closer, leaned against him, he held you close.

“He died almost two years after we graduated,” you murmured, cheek pressed against Philip’s shoulder. His shirt was damp from your slow, silent tears. “No one saw it coming. He was shot when someone broke into our house. It all happened in less than an hour, and then he was gone.”

Your voice broke altogether with your final few words. You could no longer keep down the sob in your throat, try as you might to keep speaking through it. You drew in a shuddering breath, but when you exhaled, you were crying audibly, tears flowing freely. “Shit, I… I didn’t mean to dump all of this onto you. You didn’t need to know all my…” —you hiccuped— “all my stupid fucking trauma, but—”

“Shh, relax. I’m not going anywhere,” he assured you, and the warmth rising in your chest wasn’t something you wanted to be able to explain when he turned toward you on the bed, wrapped his other arm around the back of your shoulders and pulled you into him. “C’mere. I’ve got you.”

As much as you were caught in your head, struggling to claw your way out of the memories you’d buried yourself in, you couldn’t have been more present in that moment. Philip smelled like the sun, like freshly-washed cotton, like lazy mornings after a long night of sleep; he smelled like something you couldn’t describe as anything other than warm.

And so you let yourself cry. You didn’t explain anything further; he wasn’t going to ask, didn’t need to know how you’d moved across the city within a week of John’s funeral to get away from everything that felt so painfully like him. He wasn’t going to pry. If you wanted to talk, wanted to tell him anything, needed someone who was just there to listen, that was your prerogative, and he wouldn’t try to force it. You were free to take your time, safe in his arms.

He rubbed your upper back, and your eyes fell shut.

“Thanks for being here,” you mumbled against the scratchy material of his button-down. “I… I’m sorry I made such a damn mess of your family life. I didn’t mean to; I swear, I—” You were cut off by a hiccup, a shuddering sob, and he held the side of your head against his chest, stroking your hair absentmindedly.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You did nothing wrong. I’m gonna be just fine, alright? It’s you I’m worried about.”

You wore a watery smile at his words. “You’re too nice. I… I fucked up, and you don’t have to pretend you’re alright with it.”

“I’m fine. Honest.” Only when your breathing evened out did he lean back, lift your chin to look at him. He offered you a small, lopsided smile. “So, I guess we’re gonna have to go back down there and tell my parents we’re engaged, huh?”

“I guess so.”

“Don’t look so sad, princess; this is supposed to be a celebration.” The guilt weighing on your shoulders must’ve been written across your face, and as he nudged you lightly, his words made you laugh.

“Mmh, we’ve really hit a relationship milestone, haven’t we?”

“Looks like it,” he said. “So, what’s the story? How’d I propose? Was it oh-so-touching, or did I butcher it ‘cause I was an emotional mess?”

“Well, you had a whole speech prepared,” you informed him, and he raised an amused eyebrow.

“I did?”

“You did.” You nodded. “Only problem was that when you got down on one knee, you were crying too hard to be able to actually get through it. You were just so moved by how beautiful I looked that night, and you couldn’t keep your feelings in check when you thought about spending the rest of your life with me.”

“You sound like you’ve really thought this out,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’ve been fantasizing about it. I know how incredible and attractive I am, but I didn’t think we were on that level yet.”

“Of course not. Don’t worry.” You couldn’t contain your entertained grin. “This was all Theo’s fantasy that she told me while you were ignoring her. She’s still really convinced it’ll happen, so I guess now you have an instruction manual for your engagement with her.”

That made him laugh outright. “When Theo and I get engaged?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Now you’re really talking nonsense.” He shook his head, but as he eyed your expression, the tear tracks on your face, his brow furrowed with concern. “...Are you alright, Y/N?”

You nodded, swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” The calloused pad of his thumb ran over your cheek, wiped your tears away, and you found yourself staring. The look in his dark eyes was heavy; god, you could’ve drowned in it, and his eyes were watering, too, no doubt from watching you cry, from seeing how much pain you were in, how deep your grief ran.

He wished he could take that all away from you. If he could shoulder the burden for you, no matter how heavy, he’d have done it in a split second — even if you didn’t want him, even if you’d never look at him in the same way that he looked at you, he knew you, and he knew you didn’t deserve to suffer like this. He cleaned the smeared mascara from under your eyes with the end of his sleeve as though somehow, some way, that could alleviate your suffering.

And you couldn’t see all of that. But you saw how he looked at you. That much was unmistakable.

He held you as though, if he let go, you might break, and in that moment, part of you felt like you might. He’d never thought he’d really be holding you like that.

But there was so much care in his gentle gaze, although you had no way to know all that was going on beneath it. You felt safe, safer than you’d felt in a long time as he rubbed circles into the small of your back, shifting you onto his lap, and he was so close, his face just inches from yours. If you leaned forward just a little, you could kiss him.

And when your gaze trailed down to his lips, downturned in a concerned frown, as consumed in you as every other part of him, you did. You finally took the opportunity presented to you, and you didn’t intend to let yourself continue to squander it.

Sitting on his lap at the end of his bed, you kissed him.

[benevolent-savage]

this is what happens when u enable me lets go

(spoilers ahoy)

Firstly, here’s some somewhat miscellaneous reasons that don’t contribute to any sort of narrative analysis but are still parts of the character I like.

His boss fight is my favorite in the game thus far. It’s not super hard, but it isn’t super easy either, and I even managed to solo it on my Balance after a few practice rounds. Sufficiently challenging without feeling unfair.

His boss fight music. It is a bop and a half, go give it a listen, my soul ascends from my body a few centimeters every time I hear it start up.

His voice. I’m sure it’s processed at least a little but gotdamn his voice is so deep and spooky it startled me when I first heard it. Very curious who his actor is; I think he and Inyanga Whitestripes share the same one. Either way, very well voiced and acted.

His design is very good. It’s the perfect mix of innocuous but also spooky sorcerer fella who knows some shit. And I was afraid that the designers would try and make him like. Handsome? Under the hood? To try and make him more sympathetic? But they didn’t and I’m glad for it.

With those out of the way, the next thing to establish, I guess: I don’t interpret Old Cob to be the main villain of arc 3, nor do I interpret Raven as such. They’re definitely antagonists, but they’re not the ultimate problem; the ultimate problem is their divorce, and how they keep dragging people into their bs. It’s established the Aethyr is a physical manifestation of their anger towards each other, and as it thins, communication between them becomes possible, as Sparck puts it in this thinly veiled metaphor toward the start of Empyrea part 2.

But Cob’s still an antagonist and I love him so I’m gonna talk about that. Most of this is going to be talking about his motivations for doing what he does, since I don’t see him quite as the ‘likes to watch the world burn for the hell of it’ archetype that others might.

One of the reasons that drew me to his character is how legit his gripe is, when put in perspective. Old Cob- or Grandfather Spider, if you prefer- is not a mortal like the other antagonists of previous arcs, which establishes he has a different thought process right off the bat. This new universe was built on his suffering and he has a grudge against the ex wife who made it, so as a god, it makes some sense he’d try to destroy it and build one he would like better. He’s fully aware that what he is doing will hurt people but decidedly doesn’t care, and I appreciate that so much. He’s chaotic as fuck and he owns it, along with his superiority complex that’s as wide as the day is long.

Yet his reasoning is like. Weirdly understandable? Like, if my ex-whatever put me in jail for a lifetime sentence and stole my kidney to pay for a new house or something, I too would go apeshit and want my fuckin kidney back. That’s mostly how I interpret his situation. He’s not doing this for hell of it, he’s doing it because he wants to get back at his ex because he’s bitter and petty and for the most part he knows this but he feels justified in doing do because she ripped out his goddamn kidney- I mean heart, and he wants that back.

And then, even after all that, he and his magic are treated as if they’re inherently evil. While, sure, Shadow is a ‘dark magic’, its actual properties aren’t anything malicious by itself. It is described as “a magic that changes reality,” and that’s it. Incredibly exploitable and you should practice caution while handling it, but used correctly it is powerful and helpful; this is likely alluding to the backlash mechanic, where likes decrease the percent of damage you take, dislikes increase the percent, and I imagine the person meant to be the literal embodiment of the magic in question to be similar in nature: not inherently harmful and lashes out if he feels he’s been mistreated.

Going off that, I’m not sure he ever wanted the FirstWorld to be destroyed, and therefore believes his incarceration to be entirely unjust; he doesn’t deny that he instigated the fight between the Titans, but when it comes to being accused of its actual destruction, he gets angry.

...Okay the written text doesn’t really display how mad he got here, but he was like. Big Angy. Super offended. Honestly, a big part of why I love and analyze the hell out of his character comes from how his VA delivers his lines and his voice in general. If you haven’t heard it for some reason, I recommend looking it up. Anyway, here he’s basically saying he didn’t destroy the First World, and even if he did, he’s suffered enough punishment because of it, to my interpretation. The only one I remember blaming him for it is Raven; Bartleby was there, and I don’t recall him blaming anything other than the Titans for it. This is of course not accounting for the various changes made to the lore since he was introduced, but they could have easily thrown in a line like ‘And now Spider plans to destroy the Spiral the way he destroyed the FirstWorld!’ or something to make it clear it was done intentionally.

And this may very well be straying into headcanon territory here, but I think he holds positive relationships very closely to him, even if things went sour in the end; he clearly still has some remaining affection for the Titans, calling them ‘the children’ and being incredibly angry at Raven for forcing one of them to destroy his Heart.

When Rat loses in Polaris he shows up to praises his efforts and even comfort him, in his own weird way. He reprimanded Scorpion in Mirage, but it’s because Scorpion wasn’t doing what his dad asked him to and got his ass kicked as a result. As for Bat, every time they’re in the same room together he pays him some sort of compliment.

Bat claims that he and his brothers are meant to be his tools, and to some extent that’s true, but he also genuinely cares about them, and it’s really interesting to see a villain defect from the usual ‘not caring about anyone other than themselves’ and openly show affection for his kids while still managing to be an incredible asshole.

In line with this is his relationship with the Wizard. There is, of course, a foundation of manipulation to their dynamic, at least to some degree. I thoroughly believe that Spider was overshadowing Coleridge, at least partly, so our character could bust him out of prison.

And while this is happening, he regains some of his spent power and removes threats to it as well, namely Morganthe, using the Wizard’s help. In fact, I have very little doubt that he was at least partially responsible for her fall; his timing on that two-liner was too on the nose.

But even with that, I think he genuinely treasures the Wizard’s help and company, which is why he attempts on four different occasions to either sway them to his side, or warn them away from what he’s doing.

Boy, I want that vacation, but it’s your fault I’m here.

And then, of course, his relationship with Raven, something that is basically a summation of his character arc. Laden with baggage and tragic in concept, it is my belief that most of what he’s doing isn’t because he genuinely hates the Spiral or he wants to get back at her, but because he loved her and treasured their relationship; so upon her mistreating him, he lashed out at everything she’d made and detested it as a result. But only because he felt betrayed and hurt so he has to inflict that on other people because he is, as aforementioned, a petty and bitter old fuck.

Moving off that line of thinking, an admirable quality he possesses is how smart he is. This guy has so many wrinkles in his brain it must look like a raisin. Well, perhaps not ‘smart’ exactly, but how good he is at manipulating certain situations to his advantage. Like in Mirage; you just know that he was fully expecting Mellori to be there and fully planned to use her as a back up plan, or you could even argue that the whole debacle in Mirage was a ploy to get his hands on her, while having the added possible benefit of things actually working out.

Actually his scheme in Mirage was really interesting now that I think about it. His aim was to turn back time to when the FirstWorld was whole, further implying that he never wanted its destruction in the first place. It would also, of course, be a time where he had his Heart and would have the ability to avoid having it ripped out again. This would involve not having the Titans fight each other again, or at least not starting it and suffering the consequences. It would be everything he wanted to achieve knocked out in one go with minimal muss or fuss, compared to other methods. It’s probably a part of why he shows up personally to bargain with Eerkala and the Cabal, and why he directly intervenes in our Wizard’s efforts to stop him; it was too important to trust to any of his kids, so knowing Scorpion probably wouldn’t have been able to execute it anyway, he used his kid as a distraction for the most part.

I also like looking into the fact that his element, besides Shadow, is Storm, as opposed to pure Shadow or Death, as most major antagonists are. Storm is a school based on invention, experimentation and improvement. This is something that interests me for two reasons: one, the magic of major antagonists is always a part of their character, Malistaire the most blatantly, and two, because of this line he says in Mirage.

To my interpretation, this would imply that he sees the Spiral as something that could be improved. And as a god, he would of course find it his obligation to try and fix this flaw. When he made the barter with the Cabal, I don’t doubt he was being at least partially honest about restoring the FirstWorld; it would certainly fix the flaw it has in the context of stealing his internal organs, but he would also probably seek to improve it, make it more suited to Shadow or something.

Something else I find intriguing is how weirdly honest he is; I don’t recall him ever lying to us once, unless you count omitting certain facts as lying. But that’s absolutely something I can see him using against people, like “I didn’t lie to you, I just didn’t tell you, your fault for not asking ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .” As said before, he;s really good at manipulating people and he weaponizes whatever he can; @that-wizard-oki​ made a really great post about how he uses conflicts- his fault or not- to his advantage, and does his own thing in the background without interruption, Mirage and Neumia probably being the best example of this, with Scorpion and the Cabal serving as distractions while he either carries out things himself or gives instructions.

To pull all of this together narratively, I think it’s important to consider this line from Mellori during one of their confrontations:

He feels powerless, so he puffs up his god status. He has little power to fight with, compared to before, so he mostly manipulates and creates back-up plans while causing conflicts to serve as distractions. His love hurt him, so he lashes out at others and drags them into his problems.

You may ask, “But Sam, these are all bad qualities, why should we like him because of this?” And I would respond “Because it makes him a complex and interesting antagonist.” The kind of character that executes his shitty actions in such a way that you can’t help but respect- even just for the level of dramatics put in to it- while also having a motive that makes you stop and consider that maybe he has a point but is very much handling the situation the wrong way.

Like, c’mon, he ticks so many villain boxes. Tragic backstory? Check. Blatant thespian who owns it? Check. Gets his hands dirty before the climax of the story? Check. Smart/ manipulative/ has back-up plans? Check. Understandable, strong motives? Check.

He’s got layers. Like onion. I felt like there was always something new to discover about him, and for that I can assert my opinion that he’s one of the best characters in Wizard101.

lmao if you read this far into my simp-for-shithead post congrats. feel free to shoot me more asks on the subject bc i cant write persuasive-essay-esque format anymore my brain is rotting. if you will excuse me, im off to listen to the chronoverge combat track for the 82937487734th time

[mozillavulpix]

super anti-komahina salt

and this is to go further beyond

I saw a komahina fan post a write-up and it just irritates me so I want to break it down:

“If you think Komaeda is batshit insane or that his character is only about his obsession with hope and you interpreted Hinata's feelings about Komaeda as just hate of course it wouldn't make sense. Except neither of these are true for their characters.”

This is the basic surface-level narrative Komahina fans argue against, and fair enough, it’s a massive generalisation. But this argument also just irritates me because it implies everyone who doesn’t ship them do so because they don’t understand the characters well enough.

“long story short Komaeda's obsesses over hope as a coping mechanism, because it's the only thing he can cling to.”

I can agree with this in a way, but in my opinion I don’t think he’s so weak that it’s impossible for him break free from that mindset (during the game) if he really wants to.

“Komaeda doesn't like Hinata because he thinks he is talented and above him, Komaeda says he loves all ultimates but it's not real love. His love for Hinata is different. In the SDR2 drama CD he mentions that he loves Hinata because he tries to understand him.”

I can agree with this. Although the Drama CD is literally just the Free Time Events, I don’t think it’s some kind of ‘gotcha’ like people think it’d be.

But also keep in mind, yes, Hajime tries to give Nagito a chance and doesn’t immediately run away screaming because scary person he can’t understand, but Hajime also doesn’t particularly act more saintly than all the other kids towards Nagito after Chapter 1. Nekomaru and Kazuichi seem to at least try to hear Nagito out before they punch him in the face. Mahiru seems like she was the first one to consider giving him breakfast. Hajime tries to stop Akane from attacking him after the Chapter 1 trial, but mostly because he’s resigned to the fact it won’t change what he did, and he then changes his mind and gets pissed off when Nagito decides to taunt him about his amnesia in response. And it’s Sonia who finally settles everyone down. So yes, Hajime tries to understand Nagito, but in the actual plot itself that’s not a special trait unique to him.

It’s only ‘unique’ if you choose to do the Free Time Events, and the Free Time Events...are basically not canon. They’re more like a what-if scenario the player chooses to view, and the dialogue was written from that perspective.

As in, maybe it’s canon that they’d interact like that if they spent time together on the island, but it’s not canon that Hajime does and wants to do that during the story. Because you can do them for everyone.

“And they reach a mutual understanding in DR3 because the two of them are more alike than Hinata would like to admit.”

Um...

Well, this is why DR2.5 is bullshit

I agree they’re similar, but I think both of them knew this from the very beginning. It’s not exactly a reason for reconciliation and forgiveness. The fact they have similarities is the exact reason why Hajime is so upset at his betrayal, and snaps back at Nagito every time he brings that up. So I don’t know if that’s really a good reason to explain why they’ve forgiven each other come DR3.

“Komaeda doesn't see himself as above untalented reserves either, because in 2-4, after realizing the truth about Hinata he says that they are the same, stepladders for hope. He was lashing out at all the students for being despair. They are similar, because they both share the same views that talent is everything.”

And then Hajime gets his character development for the rest of the game all so he can realise talent isn’t everything. So...?

“Now from Hinata's end, a lot of people seem to miss this about him, but he is someone who denies his feelings when they get inconvenient, he is called a tsundere by monokuma” 

I guess this is a diss against the surface-level people and people who are like “but the text literally says this”. But even then, the game literally shows Hajime’s inner thoughts. If he’s conflicted about things, the text generally shows that too, even if it’s with a careful inclusion of a ‘...’

So I don’t think we should take that trait as an excuse to literally ignore what the text says.

He was felt pumped when Komaeda was out of critical condition, but he thinks "why do I have to feel pumped, oh well best not to think about it"....because Hinata likes to avoid facing things that inconvenient him. Hinata finds it hard to trust Komaeda and doesn't play along with him, because he is afraid of getting caught in his pace, and not because he hates him and thinks he is better off dead.

This part literally read like a high-schooler’s english essay, and maybe this kid actually is a high-schooler, tbh. Because that is one big leap from “Hajime finds it difficult to deal with his feelings” to “since Hajime finds it difficult to deal with Nagito, it means he doesn’t hate him”.

“I don't think Komaeda is a fundametally bad person but is shaped to be what he is because of his luck cycle. In his last FTE, Hinata asks what Komaeda would do if didn't have his luck cycle, and his answer was something along the lines of " a normal life, devoid of hope and despair". And we get to that his innermost desires is to live a normal life in the OVA, and his character song zansakura zanka.”

He can also just decide to not believe in his luck cycle.

Also, in the OVA, he’s embarrassed by that inner desire and tells World Destroyer he hopes no one saw that maybe he wishes for a world without talent.

Like his desire to be a good person is so hidden that he doesn’t want people to know.

“Hinata even mentions Komaeda isn't trying to trick anyone for selfish reasons in his report card, so it's a shame to see so many people attribute all of Komaeda's actions to malice just because of what Hinata thought of him in chapter 5 because it wasn't clear what Komaeda's reasons were at that point.”

Okay, a few things to unpack here:

Just because Nagito is doing things ‘for the greater good’, doesn’t mean it’s not also selfish. Hajime isn’t going to say that because Hajime doesn’t realise that. You can’t exactly trust him with being able to articulate everything about a character’s worldview. Izuru would. He probably does in Chapter 0. (And that’s why he seems disgusted by him).

Also, there’s “maybe Hajime is a slightly unreliable narrator because he tries to avoid thinking about difficult things”, and there’s “actually, the majority of how Hajime views Chapter 5 is unreliable because he didn’t know for sure if Nagito’s plan was malicious or not, it was just his gut feeling”.

What about the video message after Chapter 5? What about having to spell out ‘KILL US ALL’? What about Chapter 0 showing how in the real world Nagito had completely lost it? It’s not like the game was trying to present Nagito as any little bit more sympathetic after the trial. If anything, every piece of new info reinforced that mindset Nagito was filled with malice, up to the ‘fake Makoto’ saying that he somewhat understood him. The fake Hope made by Junko to trick them.

If you compare Chapter 5 in 2 to Chapter 5 in V3, you can see how the positioning is different. V3 does the “the villain tries to make himself look the worst he can in the mind of the heroes when in reality his real intentions were different” a lot better. More flat-out intentionally - the protagonist kind of literally giving a monologue about how the character was morally grey and even at the end there they couldn’t say they knew their true intentions. But also it’s just not as...sinister as 2-5. No ominous chanting, no dismembered limbs, none of the characters feeling completely out of their element and terrified. I think it’s text that Nagito is supposed to be villainous in Chapter 5 and even past Chapter 5.

So...

I can at least understand where Komahina comes from, but god it annoys me

Unpacking it like this, I can see it’s not even fair to argue back a lot of it - the stuff people are saying do make sense and are arguing against kinds of people I have seen.

Besides, I’m not arguing Komahina ‘can’t be canon’.

My view is just I think Hajime deserves better than a character like Nagito, who never repented for his actions on-screen or even gave much of a hint that he wanted to repent for his actions.

And that it’s still easy to argue that Nagito is a bad person even with his trauma.

Not everyone who calls Nagito an awful person is an idiot who doesn’t know how to read text past the surface, you can still make a nuanced take with that conclusion

for god’s sake

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 28)

For someone who wears a sling, Azula is strangely unintimidated by the prospect of going back to sea. Sokka isn’t particularly surprised though, she always has been the resilient sort. The type to brush things off and get back to whatever task she had been doing before tragedy struck. It is one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place. If he isn’t mistaken he would say that she is rather eager to get back to sailing.

He can think of several other things that he’d rather be doing. “Wouldn’t it be quicker to just take a plane back home.”

Azula tilted her head, “we can’t just leave the boat.”

“I dunno, that thing looks pretty banged up, I’m sure that you guys could get a newer and better one.”

“Sokka, it’s not even our boat.” Zuko points out. “We’re borrowing it from that ex-pirate who runs the town bar.”

Sokka cocks his head. “Why would he lend you a boat?”

“He and dad have gotten close.”

Sokka furrows his brows.

Azula sighs and scans the beach for her Ozai before whispering, “I already told you about father’s drinking problem.”

He flushes as the pieces click. “Oh, yeah. Bars. Drinking. Talking to the bar owner.”

Azula swats him, “not so loud!”

“Ow! Blisters!”

Azula rolls her eyes. “Your days of being babied are over!” She declares. “And besides, most of your blisters are gone now anyways, you’re just trying to get special treatment.”

“And that takes the attention away from you?” He quirks a brow and gestures to her arm.

“I,” she draws the syllable out, “am not complaining.”

“Hey, Sokka!” Katara calls. “I found a piece of your raft.” She holds up a bright yellow strip.

“Anyways, I still think that we should travel by plane. Ozai and Jet can sail the boat back and the rest of us will meet him there.”

Azula fixes him with a dull stare. “Sokka, that’s a terrible idea.”

Looking equally as unentertained, Zuko adds, “I’m not going to leave my father unattended.”

“And your father isn’t going to leave you unattended either.” He mutters. “Not after the fiasco with the souvenir shop.”

Zuko flushes, “that wasn’t even my idea.” He flicks his gaze to his sister.

She gives one of her faux innocent stares. “I can’t do much damage like this.” She strokes her sling.

“It only takes one hand to pop several blisters.” Sokka grumbles.

“Gross, Sokka!” Katara exclaims.

“Our luggage is on the ship.” Ozai remarks.

“What about Jet?” Katara asks.

“He has been on the ship avoiding me.” Azula crosses her arms.

Sokka can hear the hurt in her voice but she says nothing more of it. He feels another onslaught of guilt for finding relief in Jet’s avoidance. If he is angry with Azula, then he won’t have to worry about the other boy getting in the way of things. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times Azula assures him that she has chosen him over Jet, he still can’t shake away the paranoia. He isn’t sure how close she had gotten to Jet and he is afraid to ask. Just as he can’t shake his dread of the sea.

“Come on, Sokka. Everyone else is on board.” Her touch is much gentler this time, less playful.

“I’d really rather…”

“Take a plane. You’ve said so.” She nods. “It’ll be fine, we got here in one piece.” He doesn’t miss the split second glance she makes at the sail. It might be that he is over thinking things, but he has a suspicion that there was a mishap with that sail. “And you won’t be alone this time if we get lost.”

“Unless…” he lifts a pointer, “we get separated by a storm.”

“We’ll be fine, Sokka.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it would be absurd for the universe to hand you back if it was just going to kill you a few weeks later. Why would it when it could have just killed you in that storm?” She shrugs.

“Gee. That’s reassuring.” He rubs the back of his head. Her humor has always been somewhat dark but her delivery has never been this dry. Dry to the point where he thinks that she is only half joking. It is just one more glimpse into the damage he has done in disappearing for so long.

And then it dawns upon him--and he swallows a lump in his throat--that in the time that he had left, she has changed. It wouldn’t make sense if she didn’t. But what if she has changed into someone that he doesn’t particularly love...could she have changed that much? Could he have changed as well?

“Come on, Sokka.” She says softly, more sympathetically. “I have something for you.”

He bites his cheek. There really is no sense in drawing this out, he knows that he is getting on the boat one way or another. It is probably better to spare himself of Azula fetching her father to carry him aboard kicking and screaming. He also can’t deny that she has piqued his curiosity.

He follows her onto the ship. It is a lot sturdier than his was. And bigger.

“Khozen says that this ship has survived a few decades of storms.” Azula points out as she leads him below deck and to the cabins. “And, just so you know, we tested that. Overall, it is a well built ship.” She sits down upon what he assumes is her bed and she pats the spot next to her.

He takes a seat. He looks the girl up and down as she shuffles around a suitcase. Now that the novelty is wearing off he is noticing more things. More changes; mostly his gaze is glued to the scar on her chin. He wishes he didn’t, but every time he sees it he imagines her with cloudy eyes and none of that fiery spirit standing at the edge of a cliff. He sees a different person entirely. A more dismal person.

The real Azula is much different than the one in his mind’s eye. She is grinning, holding something behind her back. “I’ll give you three guess. If you don’t get it then you don’t get the thing that I am holding.”

Some of his anxieties wash away as a memory drives the darker images out of his mind. Now he is picturing a much smaller Azula with big eyes, chubby cheeks, and a missing front tooth.

He can’t quite get the voice right in his head, but he remembers her declaring, “what am I holding, Sokka!? If you get it right, you get a prize.” She only gave him unlimited guesses because she knew that hadn’t stood a chance. Usually with this game, other kids held was  coin or a toy. Azula...she was always different. After guessing, “a coin? A stick of gum? A dollar bill? Five dollars!? A rubber duck…” She held out her fist and opened it to reveal a cherry pit.

So that is what he goes with, “it’s a cherry pit, isn’t it?”

She shakes her head. “Good guess, but now.”

“A pumpkin seed?”

Azula rolls her eyes. “Pumpkins aren’t in season.”

Her eyes, they are the same, but they are different. He thinks that they aren’t so care free anymore. There is a knowingness to them. A hardness that goes beyond any physical changes.

And there are plenty of those too. He had expected her to have grown taller, but she really hasn’t. But her face has lost a little more of its softness, he thinks that her cheekbones are more pronounced. He thinks that her muscles are more defined...that would explain the iron grip that she’d had on him. She wears her hair differently too, it is somewhat more tousled and is no longer bound up.

“Stop thinking so much and just start throwing guesses. I’ll give you a hint.”

Sokka pretends like that is what he had been thinking about. “Shoot.” He forces a smile.

“It has seen better days, but it’s still kind of cute.” She pauses. “Sort of like you.”

His smile becomes more genuine and he tries not to laugh. “It’s my clownfish isn’t it?”

Azula blinks before chucking it at him. “You cheated.”

“It isn’t my fault that you gave such an obvious hint.”

She turns her head and folds her good arm against the other. “That was a pity hint.” He is glad that she does. It reassures him that she is still there. Even if her eyes are more tired, even if her body bares the scars of a rough period, her smile is still the same. Her mannerisms are the same.

He puts the stuffed clownfish to the side and puts an arm around her. He can’t fault her for her changes, not when she has probably observed some within him.

.oOo.

He has lost his spunk. His adventurous spirit. The ocean stole that from him and dragged it to its depths alongside his cargo.

His posture isn’t quite right. At first she thinks that it is because he is physically frailer. The doctors had warned that it might take several months for him to re-attain a healthy body weight. And that it might take longer for the patches of discolored skin to even out again.

But they hadn’t warned her that his mind might be frailer. Though she thinks that it was probably implied. He still jokes and quips. He still makes her laugh. But he always seems weary and on edge. As though the sea will flood and snatch him back from wherever he stands.

Azula can’t hold it against him. She can’t imagine it is all too different from the fragility that had gripped her own mind some time back. She lets him hold her but she feels as though she should be holding him.

“When did you start wearing your hair down?” He had inquired a few hours ago.

“I think the month after you left.”

“Why?”

She hadn’t had the heart to tell him that it was because she had simply stopped seeing the point in putting so much effort in. Instead she told him that she needed change, and it wasn’t a complete lie. It was simply a small fragment of a whole truth.

“When did you decide to grow a beard?” She had tried to lighten her own mood.

“It wasn’t a decision.” They both laughed at this. And just as she had begun to stop laughing, he flared his nostrils and gave his beard a few pretentious strokes. “Do you fancy it m’lady?”

“You’re shaving tomorrow.” Secondhand embarrassment had spread color upon her cheeks.

The conversation had died away three hours ago. She pretends to be asleep, she isn’t sure if he wants to be caught crying. She wonders if she should get Katara, it seems somehow more appropriate to have a sister comforting a brother. That is how it has always been between she and Zuko.

Azula looks at the bed over. Katara is sleeping soundly. Pictures of events that Sokka has missed are still sprawled out on her nightstand. One by one Katara had been going through them, catching Sokka up on everything.

Azula doesn’t know how the pair had spent the alone time she’d given them, but Katara had went to bed extra cheerful.

“When did you wake up?” Sokka asks as he wipes his eyes.

“A few minutes ago, I guess.”

“Oh.”

“Why are you crying?” She notices that he is shaking and comes to a few conclusions. The boat rolls and bobs as it makes its way through the waves. “The ocean is very calm tonight. Do you want to go on deck?”

He shakes his head abruptly. “I don’t like how open it is.”

Azula nods. She takes his hand. She could tell him that it really isn’t that bad, but what good would that do? It would only be entirely dismissive. And a simple, ‘it’s going to be okay’ seems insufficient. Instead she says, “you were strong enough to find sleep on an unstable raft, you’re strong enough to get used to this.”

Though she thinks that these words might only be comforting to her. She thinks that words might not mean much at all right now. Her grip simply needs to be stronger than the pull of the sea. So she holds him close and waits for his anxious trembles to pass.

If he falls asleep in her arms then she will just deal with the earful that her father will give her.

“You used to love the ocean. You can’t fear it now.” She tries. “You beat it. You shouldn’t fear something that you have defeated.”

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

Dear Agony Just let go of me Suffer slowly Is this the way it's got to be? Don't bury me Faceless enemy I'm so sorry Is this the way it's gotta be? Dear Agony

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9hZFyoqp7Q

Amy and Shachath

The Angel of Death... I told ya’ll Amy has some weird friends XD Including supernatural beings, angels, demons, the freaking Anti-Christ and even Lilith herself... 

However, Amy is pretty chummy with Shachath as they talk often and Amy even shares a cup of tea with her at times. Which is touching, but it’s also... really sad when you think about it. But these two have a somewhat odd friendship/acquaintanceship due to being very familiar with one another and Shachath acts as something of a guardian angel for Amy, just like her daughter Mallory does. Aside from Shinsou, Shachath also understands Amy very much, noting that Amy hides her  feelings of worthlessness, sadness and pain with smiles and laughter as Shachath is almost always behind her in someway because of the pain she feels often.

And just to clarify... my good friend @ambroselaveau90 has the HC that Shachath is Mallory’s mother and I’m going with that cuz I like it~! <3 

Mallory acts as a guardian angel for Amy, and Shachath does the same because well... they’re angels! And they like her <3 

Shachath first appears to Amy during her childhood at Robichaux even after Cordelia is made the new Supreme as the girl began to feel empty and hollow after realizing that not only was she never going to see Shinsou again, but that she lost her parents, her dog, her sisters Madison, Misty and Nan, as well as her mother figures Fiona, Marie Laveau and Myrtle Snow and her good friend Luke. The losses hit her all suddenly as she suffered a mental breakdown, having witnessed so much death in so little time, which is what Shachath explained to her when she first arrived and she notes to the young girl that she was calling for her but Amy had no idea she was doing so. 

The Angel of Death then tells her that sometimes not everyone is aware that they are praying for the pain to end, and Amy confides in her that sometimes she does want the pain to end and Shachath does offer her a way to end the pain, a kiss of death. However, a fearful Amy apologizes and says that she’s not really ready for that, but Shachath is very understanding and tells her that should she ever feel anymore unbearable pain that she can always sing for her again and she’ll come to her. 

As Amy got older, Shachath still follows Amy because of the young witch’s singing as she notes that Amy tends to often sing for her. Although Shachath noted that while Amy did realize the entirety of what she lost, that she hadn’t processed it all and entered a heavy stage of denial until the Sports Festival when her Sentio Compassios was fully awakened. Only when Amy enters the anger stage of her grief is when Shachath feels compelled to go to her. As Amy realized that the pro-heroes abandoned her, she became distraught, confused, horrified, hurt and wild with rage and despair that it led her to going on a rampage on UA. An event that Shachath watched patiently, and she grew worried for the witch when Izuku got the upperhand and pinned her down. She was sympathetic when Amy confessed her feelings, only to get coldly rejected and breaking her heart.

The added pain of heartbreak put a lot of stress on Amy’s physical body, causing her to go into brief cardiac arrest as Shachath arrived and offered to give her the kiss of death to end it all. Amy was more than willing to be kissed because the pain was so great, but Shachath stops upon realizing the power within the witch, as well as the rage and contempt that kickstarted her power into regenerating her heart and kept her body from giving out. Shachath tells Amy that she wasn’t quite ready to go yet and had unfinished business to do. As instead of succumbing to despair, Amy became reinvigorated with a newfound scorn that allowed her to continue fighting Izuku and came close to killing him. Which is partially why Shachath stuck around as she wondered if it would have been Izuku who she would give the kiss of death too. 

In fact, another factor that allowed Amy to cease her attack was seeing Shachath flying beside Izuku, ready to give him the kiss since Amy came dangerously close to crushing him. Which horrified her when she realized how badly she was hurting him, and it allowed her to stop. Although it’s implied that this was a ploy by Shachath to prevent Amy from killing the boy to spare her from committing something she would regret and to save Izuku from a painful death. 

Afterwards, Shachath remained by Amy’s side as she quit UA and isolated herself in her mansion due to the anger, hatred, depression and despair she felt towards herself and her former teachers and classmates. Due to Amy’s fluctuating emotions ranging between anger, despair and mainly emotional pain, Shachath kept her company and stood by just in case Amy truly did want to end it all. Amy kept Shachath in mind and frequently spoke to her and turned to her for advice, especially when it came to forgiveness about herself, with Shachath comforting her and reassuring her each and every time, even telling her that love is painful but it only means that she is a human with a strong capacity to feel love for people. 

Although she also remained neutral about Amy’s choices, noting that whatever she chooses that Shachath will not judge her and would remain her friend no matter what she did. 

And as Amy prepares to go rescue her friends and her teacher during the War Arc, she asks the angel if she will stay with her since Amy secretly hoped that she would die during the rescue. Shachath kindly tells her that she will be by her side the entire time if she does want to die, but also gives her advice on how to beat Shigaraki.

Amy: You’ll be with me... right? I mean... Shigaraki’s really strong now... stronger than ever before... I’m not afraid. Honestly I’m not, I don’t even care if I come out of it alive or not, but... if he does manage to kill me... will you be there?

Shachath: Oh child... as long as you call for me, I will always be there. As I have said before... if you need me to. I will save you. 

In the present times, Amy and Shachath are still good friends, and while Amy has slowly gotten better overtime, Shachath still does come by every now and then due to Amy relapsing into her depression, including during her second year when she begins to doubt herself and spirals back into the verge of a breakdown. Shachath would be at her side and still give her the offer of the kiss of death, but since Amy gained more of a support system, the witch oncemore decline with Shachath being nothing  but understanding. As she was touched by Amy’s new friendships, especially her friendship with Ashlen, another person she had seen before and had been ‘sung’ for. 

However, Shachath did tell Amy that she wants to save her from her pain in the near future when death is inevitable. A sentiment that oddly touches Amy as she tells her that she wouldn’t want anyone else to steal her away from a painful death.

At one point Amy asks Shachath if she gets tired of waiting for her to make her decision, but because the Angel of Death has grown fond of Amy, she reassures her and tells her that she isn’t annoyed with her and is merely there to be a listening ear for her. A benevolent Grim Reaper, Shachath sometimes even offers advice to Amy and lets her vent about what is making her upset and listens to her without any judgement. Because Shachath gained an understanding towards Amy, she at times can also talk her out of death by reminding her of her friends and loved ones which often tends to make Amy reconsider.

However, like many a person suffering from depression, there are moments where Amy cannot see or think about her loved ones as she just wonders and contemplates suicide with Shachath almost always showing up during these moments.

I feel nothing anymore...

[la-noche-cae]

Soñera part 1

Part 1 is 1,777 words.

Total with part 2 is 3,919 words.

No warnings needed. Mystic (OC) and Nightfall. Includes sleep paralysis, cuddling, sharing a bed, a few yawns (don’t read if you don’t want to get sleepy?), friendship growing :)

(I decided to start posting my completed fics… I also posted this on Archive of our Own, recently made an account there ^^ my username is Elafrum. Although part 2 is already available in AO3, I will post it tomorrow in here).

~~~

The dreadwalker found herself too uneasy to sleep, too energetic. She wandered and paced. However, Nightfall didn’t want to do anything either. Hoping that her body would ease back, so she could nap, she thought about why she didn’t want to do much else.

Strangely enough, she itched to have some company…

Did she feel lonely? Perhaps she spent too much time with Mystic, as they accompanied her for any little thing, and got used to them being around to talk with, or talk back to.

Nightfall stopped by a window, looking forward to see the moon. It was one of the things she otherwise couldn’t fully enjoy in her homeland, but the sky was cloudy. Perhaps it would rain then, she thought hopefully.

Why would Mystic follow her around anywhere despite causing them stress to go to new places? Nightfall had been wondering, since the kirin accompanied her home, knowing that Fogshadow Tower was full of poison gas and broken spirits. She didn’t complain though, the help was needed.

The dreadwalker leaned on the wall, facing the general direction of Mystic’s bed and continued to ponder… Though she didn’t like doing it much, she figured it was important in order to both clear her head and understand Mystic. Why wouldn’t she when they tried their best to understand her?

Nightfall felt somewhat embarrassed to be doing that instead of something useful, it made her look pathetic, didn’t it? Her face portrayed a slight grimace but it untensed as she kept thinking. It’s alright, this is good, even, that she knew what she was feeling and where it could be coming from.

Suddenly, she heard Mystic breath deeply, then jolt up awake with a light, but dragged moan.

They shifted on the sheets but then slowly sat up. They were still confused, their head felt heavy and their heart raced. “Uhg…” Mystic let out a low sigh and looked around the room desperately. They could move, at last.

A distinct pair of eyes glowed blue next to the window, “Hmm?” Nightfall. She lifted her head curiously but didn’t move from her position.

Mystic blinked and felt slightly relieved. Yeah, they were back to reality.

“Hey,” Nightfall gestured casually.

“Hey…” They replied, as if bothered- not by Nightfall, but generally.

The two stood quietly for a while. Mystic was thinking about what just happened while they slept…

“Did I sleep on my back?” They rubbed their eyelids, “I think I had sleep paralysis.”

“Couldn’t tell, you mostly sleep facing your right.” She replied nonchalantly, as she quickly realized that when they were sleeping facing the wall, they were sleeping on their right. The times she passed by the open space of their room, she’d take a glance to see if they were awake.

She tilted her head “You were paralyzed?”

Mystic already knew Nightfall wouldn’t really sleep consistently, but they didn’t know during the time she is awake, she noted how they slept. It was useful to know now. Nightfall slept as if she blacked out on top of her bed, facing down, plus wearing her uniform. Sometime during the night she changed clothes.

“It was just, you know, in sleep paralysis you can’t move, your eyes are heavy and you run out of breath. It’s scary for me… But I should be fine if I,” they sighed.

“Stop feeling stressed and eating well blah blah blah, what’s essentially impossible to do right now, thanks.” They grumbled and promptly let themself fall onto the bed.

“It is with that attitude.” She replied with a huff. Mystic sighed again.

“Come on. Do you want a glass of water?” She asked sympathetically.

It seemed she was in a better mood at times Mystic woke up in the middle of the night, but they remembered that dreadwalkers are nocturnal, so, perhaps naturally, Nightfall’s mood eased.

“It’s alright, I’ll get it. And sorry for interrupting… whatever you were doing.” Mystic removed the sheets off their body and sat up, then shook their head. Just think about something else… They breathed deeply and began to calm down.

“I was… getting a glass of water.” She pushed on, and only then stopped laying on the wall. She knew their tone implied distress, plus just like they pushed on for her to take better care of herself, she wanted them to do small things for their wellbeing.

Mystic chuckled lightly, “Well, let’s get a glass of water.”

They got up and Nightfall already had shot towards the kitchen. The kirin peeked through the hall and huffed with a smile, “Slow down there huh, some of us can’t teleport.” they said as they walked.

There was a light outside that provided enough exposure for them to see well, so they didn’t bother to flick the kitchen lights on. They didn’t want to make Nightfall uncomfortable either. 

“What about you though, can’t sleep?”

She thought of what to say, quickly. “I’m still worked up, I guess.”

Nightfall already bad her hands and hair strands in action, searching cups, opening the fridge and reaching the water pitcher inside it.

“I see, but let me help.” They said, though lightly scratching their back.

“Fine, slowpoke.”

“Hey, don’t rush me…”

Nightfall gave them the cups and poured the water. Though Mystic made a face, she doubted it was about the water.

“It’s cold, but alright.”

Proven wrong. What’s wrong with cold water? 

Right, Mystic said they get cold easily before…

“Sorry.”

Mystic shook their head, she didn’t have to apologize, they didn’t tell her before she served the glass anyways.

“It’s fine, bud.” They replied nonchalantly and took a sip.

“You uh… You need help?” They asked as she stared at her own glass for a moment.

“No.” Nightfall said, took a deep breath, pulled her mask off and gulped the entire glass of water down.

She made a noise of relief, feeling her body cool down, then put her mask back on. Mystic huffed humorously, but continued drinking.

Again, there was a minute of standing in silence as Mystic drank.

Nightfall noted they were still not all that relaxed, holding themself and blinking blankly “You are still spooked.”

“I’m just still thinking.” They replied.

“Hmm, what about?”

“I just… I think back on when it had happened before for a couple of days consecutively. Figured then that it’s a fear of mine to not have control of my body. Sometimes I was afraid to go to sleep, I feared being unconscious.”

They still have that fear, being unconscious as an extent of losing autonomy. The kirin bit their lip and sighed, thank goodness it was a bit dark, for they didn’t want Nightfall to see clearly that they were wobbly and about to tear up.

Mystic took a long sip of their water, though still halfway. They were able to control their feelings, and it helped they could drink up and gulp down that itchy sensation on their throat.  What a scaredy cat, they thought,  Nightfall would think so.

Nightfall leaned on the counter, “Was it Dreamcatcher?” She narrowed her eyes. A tangible enemy was easier to confront, and she could take more definitive action to help Mystic sleep well…

“I don’t think so, sleep paralysis is kind of natural, which is why I said I should take care of myself to avoid it. By the way, thanks for the glass of water.”

“You’re welcome.” She replied and made a finger gun at them.

Mystic laughed lowly, then yawned. As much as she wanted to spend time with them doing nothing important, they needed their sleep. She did, too, but didn’t really know if she’d fall asleep.

“When you’re done there, you’re going to feel better, and you’re going to lay to sleep on your side.” Nightfall told Mystic as a matter of fact, but she tried to make it assuring.

Mystic sighed in response, finishing up with their glass of water. “Yeah,” they said with a higher, more optimistic tone and immediately went ahead to wash the dishes in order to keep themself busy to calm down. How pathetic, to not feel safe in your own skin. 

Nightfall huffed, “Leave that for later.” She interrupted.

“I learned that when you put off small tasks they pile up and are harder to deal with later. You know?”

“I meant it… as to let me take care of it.” She made that up at the moment, as Mystic was the one who usually ended up cleaning her dishes.

“Well, I already done it.” Mystic replied and kept on washing.

“Move it. I won’t allow you.” The dreadwalker pushed them out the way with her body and they growled playfully, certainly not actually wanting to challenge her to some play-fight.

When Mystic moved to the other side she blocked them with her hair. She laughed lowly in a mean tone.

“But Nightfall, you always do other things.”

“I’m going to be nice to you and you can’t stop me.”

“Tch!” Mystic huffed finally. “Okay, fine… Thanks.”

They waited for her, though her hair still stood in the way. “Is it okay if I pet your hair?” As they’ve talked about it before, and Nightfall’s hair having nerves of their own, they wondered if they could help her ease down, too.

“Sure. Just like last time.” She looked away but blushed, it was rather personal to let them do that, plus she actually enjoyed it. Careful with the hooks.

The kirin continued, and then noticed what she meant about her being worked up,  her strands were moving and shaking quickly in its place. “Jeez, Nightfall…” They pressed down with their thumb on top of it and massaged it downwards, repeating this on the rest of the strands, yet avoiding the hooks at the end.

“That okay?”

“Yeah…” Nightfall exhaled, “Yeah, I needed that.” She slowed down on washing the dishes, though she was almost done.

“I might just fall asleep…” She said and moaned, then leaned on Mystic, knowing this was just a plan to get her to stop doing chores, so she prevented them again from interrupting her.

“Ah! I can’t pet your hair if it’s smothering me!” Mystic pushed her back.

“Too bad.”

Mystic backed off at least, Nightfall gave a triumphant smile, noticeable through her eyes, “This isn’t over.” They stated with a comical pout.

“I win.” Nightfall turned around and ruffled Mystic’s hair, avoiding the horn. They shook their head in response and finished with a yawn. Nightfall stood there, pleased, but had enough of playful comebacks. “Aight, okay, even though we are having fun, we should go to sleep.” Mystic said and Nightfall agreed.

[walkerduchess]

A Game of Hearts - Chapter Ten: Split (The Royal Romance AU)

Pairing: Drake x MC [Liam x MC]

Notes: Again I took too long whith this chapter, sorry. The next should be out faster since I’m off from work for the next 10 days. No flashbacks in this one because SO MUCH HAPPENS. I hope you like it, and if you read, please tell me what you think!

I do not own these characters, they belong to Pixelberry.

Summary: Princess Sapphire’s secrets still hangs between her and Drake, while tensions are rising in the kingdom she’s left.

Word Count: 4579

Tagging: I’m tagging everyone who asked me to. If you want in or out the list just let me know!  @confessionsofabrokegirl​, @museofbooks​, @stopforamoment​, @annekebbphotography​, @queenodysseia​ , @drakewalkerisreal​

Prologue: Promised | Chapter One: Unveiled | Chapter Two: Tied | Chapter Three: Acknowledged | Chapter Four: Disarmed | Chapter Five: Gone | Chapter Six: Unbarred | Chapter Seven: Assisted | Chapter Eight: Suited | Chapter Nine: Breached

Chapter Ten: Split

His eyes search hers, his lips slightly parted, awaiting for her to say something.

It is a foreign feeling, at least for the princess, to look into someone’s eyes and finding oneself recognized in them. It’s a sentiment similar to that she had upon meeting Hana again, after all those years. It’s alluring and overwhelming at the same time. Her breathing is uneven, and she gives him a small, careful nod.

“How?” He breathes out, “why-- what are you doing here?” His rushed words register the turmoil inside his brain, where a multitude of questions scream at the same time. 

She opens her mouth but she doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have dropped all of these questions on you.” Drake says, uncharacteristically soft. “It’s just…” he seems to search for the right words, “you were gone.” His voice doesn’t sound accusing, but rather pained.

Elia doesn’t have to ask to know what he means. She used to see him every morning at sword class and then her father decided she didn’t need further lessons. Without even a chance to say goodbye, she simply never went back. 

“I know,” when she finally speaks, her voice is weak, “I was forced to--”

“I asked Max about you,” he blurts out before she can end her sentence, “he… he never gave me direct answers and kept changing the subject, so one day I... stopped asking.” His gaze shifted from her to the ground in front of him.

“I’m sorry, it’s just,” the woman begins, but she knows she cannot give him the truth. She tries to dismiss the thought, a futile attempt in waving away the irrefutable conclusion - a decision, made deep in her conscience, to disclose to this man only the part of her that is easy to accept, the part of her he used to like once, that doesn’t involve any title with a bigger meaning such as Promised Princess or Builder, instead is simple as… Elia. Her face falls and her features turn somber as she speaks words that, despite being true, don’t really give anything away, “some very complicated family things.”

“I gathered it was something like that,” he looks up at her, eyes sympathetic yet clearly waiting for further explanation. 

She can only look away, biting her lower lip. It’s not that she doesn’t want to trust him, she simply can’t. Instead, she chooses to change the focus, just a little bit. “I asked about you, too,” she speaks truthfully. At the beginning, every time she’d see Liam, the princess would ask about Drake. Of course she asked as if it was nothing, for she had way too much pride in her pre-teen years - not that it has ever gone away - to admit how much she cared. And she cared a lot. As the years went by, time took him away from her mind for days, then turned it into weeks and even months and years in a row. But she never truly forgot him. And, she realizes now, she also never really stopped caring.

He gives her a small smile, that don’t reach his eyes. She responds with a similar one. They gaze at each other for a while, only the crackling sounds of the fire breaking the silence between them. It’s comfortable, however Elia starts to fear he may ask more questions if they stay there longer, or worse, she fears she might spill it all out just from staring into the abyss held within his dark eyes.

“I better go to sleep,” she gestures at the tent behind them, her voice breaking the moment, “you can wake me or Jonah when you’re tired.”

Drake watches her make her way into her tent and mutters a quiet “good night.”

-

The Council room is large, yet right now it’s almost claustrophobic, with the voices inside higher than usual, most of them resonating at the same time. Liam closes his eyes and rubs his temples, his elbows resting on the big wooden table. He is exhausted. Even in the few nights he was able to get a good sleep, he’d still wake up feeling drained.

The prince spent the past month in a lethargic state. For the first time in his life, his future isn’t laid out in front of him. He doesn’t know what to do really. He repeats to himself, day after day, that he needs to stay strong for his people. That he can do. He chooses to focus on that, instead of thinking Sophie is gone, and now Drake, too. He couldn’t even tell his best friend he didn’t need to go searching for someone who doesn’t want to be found - again, Liam remembers with a pang of guilt - because Sophie asked him not to tell anyone.

Council meetings have been held daily since Sophie left, to no avail. The Promised Princess was still missing, the war was still happening and everyone in the kingdom seemed to be distressed. The holders clearly don’t know what to do, only repeating the same questions, concerns, search parties’ updates and any other futile idea to solve the situation. At the beginning, Liam felt bad. He knew the princess wasn’t kidnapped but he had to respect her wishes. He can’t say he hasn’t entertained the idea of telling the truth, many times. But something in his heart keeps telling him Sophie must have a very good reason for not wanting people to know she left willingly. She must have a marvelous reason for leaving. Liam is afraid to let himself think otherwise.

“Prince William?” The voice makes him open his eyes to find Lord Hakim glaring at him through his glasses.

“Yes?” He forces a casual tone, straightening up in his chair.

“I just said,” the man’s large shoulders tense and he exhales before continuing, “there is word of a traitor in the South’s army. Other than the Builder, that is.”

“The Builder is likely out of the picture,” Lady Olivia speaks up, “it’s been about a year since their army last showed new weaponry.”

“That does not mean--” Lord Bertrand tries to cut in but Liv is not having any of it.

“Besides,” the red haired woman speaks the word louder, shooting daggers at Bertrand with her eyes, “the odds shifted in our favour again. I say it’s time to attack with full force. I could send resources--”

“Thank you for your assessment, Lady Olivia.” King Brandon stops her war talk, to which she frowns but shortly lets go. “But we are, in no way, attacking our enemy while they have Princess Sapphire.”

The king’s words are cold, but there’s a hint of new moisture in his eyes that doesn’t get past Liam. King Brandon was never the same after Queen Aurora died, everybody knows that. He became somewhat smaller and grimmer. Now, after Sophie left, he only leaves his chambers to go to Council meetings. And even then, it’s as if he’s lost his strength.

“Please, Lord Hakim,” the prince decides to get to the point, at last, “tell us what you know about this traitor.”

Lord Hakim clears his throat then, “My spies reported they heard some talk from the South’s soldiers. They call their commander ‘The Cordonian’ and also mentioned that he is ‘no stranger to castle life’.”  

“That could be anyone,” Olivia speaks again, “a guard, a servant…”

“Or a holder,” Hakim adds cautiously.

“What are you implying, Lord Hakim?” King Brandon asks in what seems an unpretentious manner, yet his full attention is turned to the man.

Hakim brings one of his hands to adjust the glasses in his face, “I am just saying,” he speaks hesitantly, “we should take into consideration that Prince Leonard has been gone for eight years, and we are all familiar with his rebellious attitude--” 

“Not this again!” Former king Constantine exhales, letting his annoyance show. “We have absolutely no evidence of Prince Leonard’s whereabouts, and therefore no reason to make these assumptions.” The tinge of worry in his voice probably goes unnoticed by every other person in the room, but not to Liam. He knows his father all too well and he knows that, despite all the criticism and dismissiveness when it comes to his eldest son, Constantine loves and misses Leo. Entertaining the idea that Leo could betray his kingdom is painless compared to an infinitely more terrifying one - the idea that Leo could betray his own family. Liam can’t believe this either. He won’t.

“Well,” Lord Landon is the one to speak this time, “Prince Leonard has had exceptional war training his whole life, so it would not be a stretch to say he could become the command--”

“No.” Liam’s voice comes out strong and even, and before he can realize it. The prince is often quiet during the council’s meetings, especially lately, so all eyes turn to him after he speaks. After a brief moment, he sighs, standing up. “My brother has always been… impulsive. But he is a good man. I will not have we defining him a traitor,” his voice is commanding, in that tone the prince knows very well how to but almost never uses. The holders will acquiesce to whatever he says, yet they will be very much aware of how biased he is, so he adds, “not without clear evidence.” He sits down again, closing the matter.

-

Elia wakes with a light tap on her shoulder. The sky is already lightning up and Jonah is mumbling something to her about going to sleep before he disappears to his tent. 

The young woman sits up and stretches, quietly so not to wake the girl sleeping next to her. They’ve been putting up three improvised tents every evening now: one for her and Nora, one for Jonah and Elliot and one for Drake. The sheets she brought aren’t big, so they don’t have much space in the tents, but since Elliot and Nora are small, they can share with someone else without preventing a good sleep.

Stepping outside, Elia proceeds to inspect the leftovers of their meal from the past evening - boiled potatoes and chicken - to see if they can still have it for breakfast. They’re cold, so she manages to light up some branches that have fallen out of the fire the night before to heat the food. 

She sits while she waits, humming some made-up melody to herself in an attempt to push Drake-thoughts out of her brain. She focuses on the bright side of things: the Device is finished - thankfully she did it before Drake arrived, with the help of the children -, they have no shortage of food and water, and they’re advancing South. 

As if she can’t get the man out of her mind for five minutes, Drake emerges out of his tent and promptly joins her. “Good morning,” he declares, voice hoarse from sleep.

Before her mind can make sense of it, she catches herself smiling at him.

“So you can finally light a fire,” he gives her a side look, the ends of his mouth perking up, “if I keep successfully teaching you things, soon enough I’m going to be sparring you in the field instead of Jonah.”

Elia smiles, joining his tone, “yeah, and I might even beat you.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, now.”

“Hey!” She gives him a light punch in the shoulder, “I did beat you.”

“Once. Over a decade ago. It doesn’t count,” his voice sounds different somehow, lighter. His smile isn’t big, yet it’s contagious nonetheless, and she can’t help but smile too.

Soon enough her smile changes into a wistful one. He remembers too. She hugs both her legs in front of her, resting her head in her knees, face turned to Drake. She wants to say how much she misses those simpler times, however she keeps the thought to herself. 

Drake’s smile slowly fades and the princess sees one of his hands twitch slightly towards her, as if he is struggling with himself whether to touch her or not. “Why did you leave?” He finally asks, voice a little lower than before.

His eyebrows are knitted together and his face looks somewhat troubled, in a way that makes it almost physically painful to deny him the answer. But she won’t tell him, so she shifts her head, positioning her forehead in her knees so that she doesn’t have to look at him. 

Elia swallows, searching her mind for the right words, but there are none.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened but,” he speaks again and she feels his hand settling on top of hers, between them, “I’m here.”

The princess brings her head up to stare at him again, “I want to, I just…” And it’s true, and she has to make a huge effort to remember why, for his touch on her skin has fogged her mind. “I can’t now.”

His gaze is almost pained, as if it hurt him to leave her alone with her burdens. She holds it, however, in a way of asserting how certain and strong she is, despite how much his eyes burn through hers right into her soul. He takes a moment before speaking again, nodding shortly, “alright.”

-

Lord Bertrand massages each one of his temples with two fingers with his eyes closed, trying to make his headache go away. When the car stops, he barely acknowledges the “good evening” his driver wishes him, jumping out of the car in a hurry to finally have a good bath and then sleep. He didn’t really need a car, for Thorngate Castle is hardly ten minutes by foot away from Ramsford Castle, but Bertrand isn’t one to walk as if he were a youngster.

Climbing up the stairs, he wills his mind to stop worrying with problems he cannot solve - at least for today - and, especially, wondering what consequences will come upon them all if Sapphire isn’t found soon. It’s been long years since he held a close relationship with his cousin, yet he can’t help but worry about her wellbeing. Of course, Bertrand will not show this weakness, instead he can very well put on the façade that his concern is only for the fate of his kingdom. Besides, his brother is mournful enough for both of them.

Upon remembering his brother, the older man makes his way to Max’s chambers, meaning to check how the tasks he left for him in the morning went. Bertrand usually sticks to his manners, but he doesn’t have enough patience for it tonight, and definitely not with Max. Therefore, he simply barges in through  his brother’s doors, in time to see him standing by an open bag, already filled with clothes and some other belongings.

Bertrand’s expression turns confused, “where are you going?”

The younger man turns to him, a bitter look in his eyes, not unlike the one he has ever since his parents died, but this one just looks… defeated. “Away,” he snarls.

“What does that even mean, Maxwell?” Bertrand runs a hand through his face, “It’s certainly too late and it’s been a hard day, so if you could not pull one of your pranks--” 

“I’m not a child!” Max interrupts, almost yelling. 

It leaves Bertrand brother gaping, thinking for sure something must have snapped inside his younger brother, for he has never in his life spoken with such rage and firmness.

“And you needn’t worry,” Max continues, in a calmer tone, even though his face remains in a scowl, as he turns his attention back to the bag on the floor and begins tying it closed, “I won’t be bothering you or smearing our family’s reputation.”

Bertrand just stands there, pathetically so, while his brother puts the bag in his shoulders, brushes past him in the door and proceeds down the stairs.

The front door shutting startles him, bringing him out of his stupor, and before he knows he is running - the Lord Bertrand running, and he is glad there’s no one but a servant to see it - down the stairs and out the front doors.

“Wait!” He calls when he sees Max struggling to place his bag inside a car outside, aided by the driver, his voice above the appropriate volume, “Maxwell! Wait!”

He stops in a halt beside the car, breathing hard and placing a hand in his chest in an attempt to dull the ache in his lungs. 

Max turns to him, “yes?” He’s got the same cold, bitter tone from before.

“Are you leaving? Where to? Why?” 

The younger man’s expression softens a little. “Sorry, brother. I made up my mind. There’s nothing for me here.”

Bertrand still doesn’t understand. “Is this about Sophie?”

Max sighs, shaking his head. “You don’t get it. It’s not just Sophie, it’s mum and dad, it’s Leo, Sav, and even Drake now. They’re all gone!

“You have me!” Bertrand yells, not knowing where this came from. But, as he finishes saying it he realizes… it’s true. He does want Max to be with him.

“You have your duties and your council. I won’t drag you backwards anymore.” With a last, somewhat sorrowful glance, the younger brother gets in the car and shuts the door.

It feels like being slapped in the face. Before he can even say anything, the car starts to pull away. “Max!” He screams after the car, pitifully hoping it would turn back around. “Max!”

-

A week has passed, and Drake’s been nothing but understanding. Elia would never have guessed, in a million lifetimes, that the suspicious and stubborn boy she used to be friends with would give her space instead of pressing her to tell him everything. She doesn’t think he would act this way before he knew she is Elia. The notion of it brings a painful twinge to her heart. Drake is actively choosing to trust her, and yet she won’t do the same for him.

Which is not to say their relationship hasn’t changed. They exchange smiles often, talk more - sometimes even about people they both used to know - and of course, tease each other all the time. It's one of the times like these - when they’ve just eaten and are getting ready to resume travel, talking casually - when he asks, “have you been wandering for long?”

It catches the princess by surprise, because in this moment, in the softness of early morning, she’s let her guard down. A heavy weight settles in her gut again, yet she can’t tell if it’s from guilt or another, more primal feeling that climbs up her throat and threatens to spill from her mouth - betrayal. It causes her eyes to go wide, looking into his for ulterior motives, any hidden wickedness to show how he’s been out to get her this whole time, but the only thing she can find there is care.

He must have noticed her starting to retreat back into herself, for with one step he is close, so close to her and his hand finds hers. “Elia…” His eyes search hers, in a desperate and silent plead. “I don’t know what happened,” he uses his other hand to brush a strand of light-brown hair behind her ear and cups the exposed skin of her cheek, “but you can tell me.”

Her mind screams at her to flee, to not give in to the warm feeling spreading from where his hands touch her. For a second, she listens to it, pressing her free hand to his chest in order to push him away, but, before she can realize it, something switches inside of her and she uses no force, instead just rests her hand above his heart.

Standing close, like this, she has to bend her head up to look at him, his gaze soft and bare just inches away. Elia notes the distinctive movement of him reaching down, incredibly slowly, and she doesn’t really have to think to know what happens next. His lips are inviting, so is all of him, yet in a flash of better judgement she holds back.

“You’re right,” it comes out in a whisper since their faces are less than a breath apart.

Drake knits his eyebrows and she takes it as an opportunity to leave his embrace. Elia takes a deep breath before continuing, “I have to show you something.”

She can’t be sure whether she’s completely out of her mind or simply making a bold move. A leap of faith, like people from before would say. She has to tell Drake or she’ll go insane, she tells herself to soothe her nerves while she fetches the Device from the inside of her bag. The children watch, apprehensive and without saying a word. Maybe she is, indeed, crazy. 

When she places the heavy yet compact mechanism, carefully, in the ground, Drake stares at it for a while, looking as concerned as the kids, before finally asking, “what is this?” His eyes are not soft like moments ago, they are straight back to being the cold suspicious ones he had when they first met at the abandoned building. 

Elia swallows, summoning up all the courage within her. “This is a device meant for cleaning the poisoned water in Cordonia,” she explains, voice deadpan.

Drake’s expression turns even more perturbed, “and what are you doing with it?” He looks a little scared of the thing, and Elia does not miss his hand going to the hilt of his sword.

“I…” she says carefully, “I built it.” She emphasizes the word on purpose, so he can truly understand. She may be a coward for not speaking the plain truth already, but she holds his gaze throughout the seconds it took him to grasp what she just said.  

“You…” he mumbles, and Elia recognizes bewilderment turning briefly into hurt before his expression hardens again. Without saying a word, he unsheathes his sword, causing her to panic a little.

“Drake, this is not a weapon,” the princess holds her hands in front of her, trying to make him listen.

He stares at her then, and there’s a fire in his eyes she has never seen before, so intense that Elia thinks he may rip her head off her body just by looking at her. 

“Are you the Builder?” He asks, voice stern but somewhat composed.

“Drake--”

“Answer me!” He almost shouts, and the princess doesn’t miss the littlest of trembles in the man’s hand while holding the sword.

She gathers up her courage. It’s not as if she has much of a choice now, “I was," she chose her words carefully.

“Give me one good reason for me not to end your life right now.” His voice is almost bitter, sword pointed at her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Jonah stepping ahead, hand reaching for the hilt of his own sword.

“Jonah, stay back,” she orders. He opens his mouth to protest, but she doesn’t let him speak, “stay with Nora and Elliot. They need you.”

The boy reluctantly steps back then.

The princess has to take some quick breaths to keep her calm, but she is determined to get to the bottom of this. She started it, right? She’s imagined this scenario in her head, multiple times now, and Drake reacting like this is perfectly predictable. Only the hard part begins now.

“My name. My whole name,” she searches his eyes to make sure he is listening, “is Sapphire Aurelia.”

Realization downs upon him when he recognizes the name. He chuckles is disbelief. “Right… you’re the Promised Princess,” he speaks in a sarcastic tone.

“It’s true!”

The fire in his eyes seem to fade a little, giving way to something else… disappointment. “I trusted you, Elia. I let myself be vulnerable around you and--” he stops himself, shaking his head, “I never should have.” And just like that, the fire is back, and he steps a little closer, flawlessly sharpened blade reflecting the sunlight in a threatening gleam.

Although, Elia is not afraid, at least not of being killed. “I’m telling the truth and I’m going to prove it to you.”

He could call her bluff… but Elia sees the hesitation in his eyes even before he speaks, “how?”

Well, there is the problem of the lack of physical proof, so she proposes the only thing she can, “ask me anything! Something only Princess Sapphire would know.”

He chuckles again, shaking his head. “This means nothing.”

Elia did not foresee a moment such as this would become her newest mini-existential crisis. What makes her the Promised Princess? What makes her who she is? The prophecy may say it’s her blood, and her time of birth, and such things, but she lived in hiding for so long it would not surprise her if she came home and there was an impostor in her place. No one would know, she’s certain. So no, this is not it. What makes her the one and only Sapphire Aurelia, the Promised Princess of the Last Prophecy, true and irreplaceable if not for what she knows and what she has lived? No one can take that from her. “This means everything.”

He seems to read the certainty in her expression, because it doesn’t take long for him to decide. “Fine.” He takes a breath and straightens himself, lowering his sword a little. 

She knows it’s a small victory, and her lips threaten to pull back in a small smile, yet she holds it back, not wanting to push her luck with Drake.

“Where could Liam always find you?” 

It takes her by surprise, for she wasn’t expecting the interrogation to start right away. It’s an easy one, at least, “the library.”

“What game did you love playing so much you inserted you and your friends in it?” Despite Drake’s impassive tone, Elia can’t hold back her smile now. She can’t help it, she’s too fond of the memory and Drake’s wording is amusing.

“Chess.”

“What piece were you?”

“The knight.”

“And Liam?”

“The rook.” She’s impressed. Drake doesn’t even flinch nor takes time thinking of the next question. Elia wonders if he ever really interrogated someone. He must have. And he knows so many details. In her mind, she tries to picture Liam telling Drake about his day and it baffles her how much Drake kept in his mind, even what must surely be boring details for an outsider. “Did Liam tell you all of this?”

“I’m asking the questions.”He did not seem amused by her distraction. “When did you find out about the undercroft?”

She couldn’t possibly forget that day. “Right after mine and Liam’s engagement party.”

He nodded his head, as if he’s at the brink of reaching a verdict.“When did you and Liam first have sex?”

Ah, a trick question. Or - no, Liam wouldn’t have lied to his best friend, would he? “We didn’t.”

Drake purses his lips and Elia can almost burst from the anticipation of not knowing what’s in his mind.

After a moment, he nods to himself, “very well, Princess.”

Elia’s brows shoot up at his words, half of her optimistic about him believing in her, and the other half apprehensive because his threatening posture still hasn’t changed.

She should have seen it coming, she really did, but for some reason, Drake’s next words catch her flabbergasted, as he brings his sword up again and towards her, “gather your things, you’re coming back with me.”

[perpetually-jungshook]

Without You: Bloodstone (Part 21)

Genre: AU, bts!werewolf, fantasy, angst

Warnings: language, violence, suggestive content

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Werewolves, contrary to popular belief, are usually gentle creatures. Except for a very specific set of circumstances, they would never hurt a human (on purpose). The few unfortunate times when mistakes were made put a permanent dark mark on the beasts and people began labeling them as monsters. What the human population failed to recognize was the fact that they were protecting us from something much more sinister. Luckily, a few survived and the gene was passed down hereditarily until one day finding its way to me… in the form of my best friend.

Link to: Storyboard (reference pictures) | General lore post | Intimacy lore post Prologue | Previous | Masterlist | Next

Loyalty is often as blind as justice should be, as unstable as a lightning storm ought to be, and as misplaced as an opinion in the truth.

Chapter 21:

“Pull them apart,” Munhee commands and I vaguely register the fact that Hoseok transforms, his human body morphing into a massive ochre wolf. The sounds of the struggle are muffled beyond the pain in my arm, furiously throbbing and stinging like needles are being pushed into every exposed inch of skin where Jimin bit me. More snarls and growls, then a whimper.

“I can’t lift you by myself,” Munhee’s voice is obviously strained and stressed, even to my distracted ears. A cloth presses on my forearm. “Hold this down. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

It’s not like I can move or would want to anyway…

With my eyelids squeezed closed, I can’t see, but I can feel the blood starting to crust on my shirt, on the makeshift cloth bandage too, though it’s still slick and hot against my skin. New pain blossoms with every desperate beat of my heart.

It’s simultaneously an instant and an eternity before Munhee comes back. I vaguely register her prying my arm away from my chest.

“This will hurt for a second,” she informs me.

It hurts for much more than a second.

She practically has to wrestle me to keep my body still. What she’s doing, I have no idea. But after a minute or two the pain starts to fade and I become aware of a constant whimpering sound. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to be coming from me. My eyelids flutter open. Hoseok paces in front of Jungkook, both still in their werewolf forms. The coffee colored creature is nowhere to be seen. Threat gone, my gaze slides to Munhee. Her hands hover over my wounded… where’d the bite go? Dark scar tissue perforates my sink, but it’s stopped stinging. Blood is no longer gushing and, while the area throbs, I can’t help but be amazed.

A small pile of dried bright yellow flowers sits beside Munhee and a pastel pink flame flickers in her palms, engulfing my forearm. The longer she treats the area with what I can only assume is some kind of healing magic, the more the tension starts to fade from my body, though my senses are still somewhat on alert. Mechanically, she drops one of her hands to pick up a few of the flowers, crushing them, and opens her fingers to reveal a more vibrant pink flame.

“Let me know when you think you can stand,” her voice is quiet, strained, but authoritative. And I forget what she says almost immediately as one of her palms brushes my skin. It feels similar to an ice burn. I try not to move, going rigid, afraid that I’ll touch her and worsen the pain.

As soon as I can breathe again, I can’t help myself. “Where’s Jimin?”

“Don’t worry about him right now.”

My mind swims. How can I not worry about him? He attacked me.

“Let’s go inside so you can rest,” the pink fire extinguishes as Munhee gets up and offers me a hand. “I’ll have to treat you again in a few hours to make sure everything stays closed- Hoseok, get the Calendulas. You can leave them on the table.”

I take her hand and find myself on unsteady feet. The ground where I’d been lying is speckled with blood. My clothes are a mess too, stained and torn. As I put weight on my left leg, my hip aches and I want to ask if Munhee can help me fix that as well, but I don’t want to be a bother.

I stumble a bit as I take the first few steps, prompting Jungkook to inch forward, but for some reason he stops, looking unsure. His lupine ears flick back, then swivel forward, weight shifting inconsistently.

The most confusing part is his eyes have flooded with amber, and yet the instinct to protect me seems uncannily absent, like there’s something stopping him.

“Come on,” Munhee prompts, offering me her arm. Even walking away provokes no response from Jungkook beyond a small whine.

She takes me down into the bunker, leading me to a room in the hallway on the right. Opening the first door, I’m immediately hit with the subtle smell of dust. This room hasn’t been opened in a while, though the cool air coming in through the vents prevents the scents from being overpowering.

Munhee helps me take a seat on the bare mattress. Her voice is breathy, probably from the effort of supporting most of my weight, “Okay, let me go get some sheets. You stay here.”

As soon as I’m alone, a perplexing thought leaves me a little uneasy. Why hadn’t she taken me to Jungkook’s room?

A muffled thud catches my attention. It’s quickly followed by another. Then a wail. The sound is difficult to describe: too animalistic to be human, yet too human to be inhuman. It chills me to the bone, a more metaphorical ice burn. I scoot back on the mattress until I’m in the corner of the room, the furthest point from the noise. On the other side of the wall- where the sounds are coming from- is Jimin’s room, so whatever is making those thuds… that wail… Curling in on myself, I put my hands over my ears, trying to use my thoughts to drown out the ever advancing, creeping sense of anticipatory fear. At least I have some control over their direction.

Why had Jimin bitten me? I thought werewolves weren’t supposed to draw blood or hurt humans. Why was Jungkook acting funny? Isn’t he supposed to want to help me? It’s frustrating, to say the least.

Munhee comes back a few minutes later with a pillow and a stack of blankets, “How are you f-?”

Another thud interrupts her.

She turns to look toward the source, “Maybe I should take you to a different room. Jimin might start to get antsy.”

So is Jimin hitting the wall? Had they locked him in his room? They? Who’s “they?” Hoseok and Jungkook had still been outside after Jimin disappeared. An image of my raven haired friend flashes to the front of my mind.

“Why can’t I stay with Jungkook?”

The question is small in volume, but weighs on me heavily. I feel like I might already know the answer.

“Things are about to get a little complicated,” Munhee sighs quietly as she places the pillow beside me on the bed and wraps a blanket around my shoulders, likely buying time while she thinks. “Don’t make assumptions about what I’m going to say. Alright?”

I nod my response.

“Jungkook might not want to see you for a while,” she says quietly, ignoring the next thud against the opposite wall. “Because Jimin just… imprinted on you.”

The sounds speed up in succession, then comes another haunting wail. She ignores it, so I ignore it too.

“Imprinted? But isn’t that only after the first transformation-?” I cut myself off, remembering what Taehyung said about a second kind of imprint. Intimate bonding. A million and one questions pop into my mind, but I’m much too tired to ask even one of them. “Never mind.”

Munhee’s expression becomes sympathetic, “Don’t worry, Eun. Everything will be alright. Why don’t you rest for a while? Then I’ll come help you get cleaned up and- and we’ll talk about what comes next.”

I feel sick, nauseous and I nod at her comments on principle. She excuses herself as the thudding against the wall gets more and more consistent. It eventually stops and I drift off into a restless sleep.

I’m woken up by a knock on the door. The part of me that isn’t completely alert yet wonders if it’s Jungkook. Maybe Namjoon. More likely? Munhee.

It’s the latter. She’s holding a tray. My eyes are too blurry to see what’s exactly on it. Had I been crying? No, they sting. Dry. Dehydrated maybe. My whole body aches, particularly my right arm.

“I’ve brought some water and soup. You need to eat it,” her tone is blunt, business as usual. I sit up as she places the tray on the night stand. There’s a sticky, bad taste in my mouth. Where’s Jungkook? She doesn’t wait for me to reply, probably noticing the untouched stack of sheets and deducing that I’d slept on the bare mattress. “Up please. I’ll make your bed.”

I’m still a little unsteady on my feet, so I take the easy way out and sit on the concrete floor, carefully lowering the tray into my lap. Only after a few bites do I realize it’s cream of broccoli. A few more bites and I remember that Jungkook “might not want to see me.”

The thudding is noticeably absent.

Munhee works efficiently, but quietly, making me feel a little bit awkward. I decide to not ask questions. I’m still far too exhausted to be curious. She said we would talk about it, so I’ll wait patiently. For now. She steps back, sheets crisply tucked and blanket spread on top, everything completely free of wrinkles and creases. Almost like magic. I try to smile at my own joke, but it only makes me feel worse.

“How was the soup?”

“Good. Thanks.”

“Seokjin made it,” Munhee says as she offers me a hand. I take it and we both sit on the edge of the bed. I leave the tray and empty bowl on the floor.

“Please tell him I said thank you too.”

I realize my statement implies that I won’t be speaking to Seokjin in order to tell him myself. This makes sense, because if he’s going to act anything like Hoseok did- avoiding me, leaving me practically for dead if Munhee hadn’t been there- then I can’t expect much in terms of courtesy.

It perplexes me though. Is an intimate bond so different than an imprint? The other wolves weren’t this actively evasive when I first arrived at the bunker with Jungkook. Granted, they gave me space to not aggravate my friend, but that’s different. Now, they seem almost repulsed.

“I’ve been thinking about how to explain…” Munhee pauses to laugh, “Lord I feel like I’m about to give you The Talk. Alright. First, I want to say that an intimate bond doesn’t necessarily mean sexual intimacy.”

When Taehyung had talked about it, that meaning had been implied with his playful suggestiveness, but I’ll be the first to admit that it hadn’t even crossed my mind in relation to Jimin. Now it hits me like a punch to the stomach and all the anxiety that I should have been feeling earlier surrounds me like murky water. I try to fight off the sensation of drowning.

“I probably should’ve explained this earlier, but the reason the werewolves don’t like human blood is if they ingest it, they will form the secondary imprint on the human. It can only happen once per wolf.”

It makes sense then, why they would avoid me when I’m on my period. An instinctual thing to protect themselves. Not rudeness.

“You’ve also probably noticed, they get more antsy? Excited? When a female around them is ovulating. I’ve seen Taehyung hover around you a satellite. I’m sure you saw it too. It’s a natural thing,” Munhee gestures vaguely and for the first time, I see a light pink tint dust her cheeks. “Well now that Jimin is, ah, bonded to you, that behavior is going to get more intense.”

More intense? The smallest bit of fear permeates through me. Jimin hardly pays any attention to me, except when it’s negative or critical. Would he start hovering? Demanding attention? Not in the soft, flirty manner in which Taehyung does it, but in the harsh, blunt way he usually acts? The fear slowly simmers into dread.

Munhee’s eyebrows knit slightly, “You okay? You’re usually so full of questions.”

I try to swallow around a lump in my throat.

“Only one for now. Am I in danger?”

She sighs lightly, “That depends.”

“On what?”

“What the source is,” her gaze drops to her lap. “Demons? No. You’re just as safe as you were yesterday.”

So not very safe at all…

“From losing Jungkook and the other boys as close friends? Possibly. Like with the initial imprint, it’ll take a while to integrate you back into pack life normally without everyone being on edge. Will Jimin be putting you in danger? That, I’m not sure.”

Her vague statements do nothing to ease my nervousness, but it’s not like I can undo anything. I’ll just have to live with it and figure things out as I go. On the bright side, at least I’m not dying of blood loss anymore.

“What would you suggest I do? Stay put?” I ask as I draw my right hand inside the sleeve, poking my thumbs through a few of the crusty, blood soaked tears.

Munhee lets out a small, softly cynical laugh, “That’s a second question. You only said one.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. For now, stay in here. I’ve had them secure Jimin in his room. If you want to clean up, I can go get you a complementary welcome kit.”

She’s trying to be funny. I attempt a laugh to be polite, though it comes out sounding hollow.

“Seriously though, I’ll get your clothes and other personal belongings from Jungkook’s room,” Munhee says as she places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Then we can heal you up again to make sure everything is in order. Just sit tight.”

Sit tight. Waiting. Isn’t that all I ever do?

✩✩✩♔✩✩✩

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Been super busy~ Thanks for understanding. I’ll be concentrating namely on Bloodstone now when I have the time, so parts should come out more frequently.

Send me your theories/questions here. Or just come say hi ;)

Support me/Donate and get some super rad 😎 rewards

Much love ~🐰 xx

[filmista]

Stranger Things (Season 1)

“If anyone asks where I am, I’ve left the country.”

As a  lot of you know I usually review films and not tv series. ‘Big Little Lies’ has been the big exception, although that’s a mini-series and thus an easier to cover than a series with more than one season.

But I wanted to make another exception and cover another series that I’ve discovered lately, really gotten into and thoroughly enjoyed: it’s the hype of 2016 ‘Stranger Things’.

Now you can’t be a regular Netflix or Tumblr user and not have heard of ‘Stranger Things’. The hype definitely got to the cave I live in, I’ve had people ask me if I’d seen it and recommend it to me. As always I eventually caved. Because you do start to wonder if it’s acceptable to venture out in public and not have seen it... 

But as is usually the case, I’m always late to a hype and don’t get into it until much later. I thought it wouldn’t be for me because I thought it would mostly be an homage to 80’s cliches that I’m not too big a fan of.

Also, I have to admit that I’ve never been that big of a fan of the government is doing, secret, fucked up shit in some top secret lab… it has a tendency to go really big and stray too much from subtlety for my liking.

 Although one day I was home sick from school and had an entire day of couch sitting ahead of me, and the film I picked was ‘Super 8’ which judging from its storyline, should by no means have been something I’d enjoy. But I ended up quite liking that film, because of it’ focus on friendship. And a large chunk of the morning past with it.

Much the same happened with ‘Stranger Things’, I had heard of it but I never thought it’d be something for me, yes admittedly basically because of preconceived notions about it.

Eventually, curiosity did get the better of me and I decided to read up on it a little bit, and all the mostly positive reviews convinced me that there must be something to it.

“Joyce, this is Hawkins, okay? You wanna know the worst thing that’s ever happened here in the four years I’ve been working here? Do you wanna know the worst thing? It was when an owl attacked Eleanor Gillespie’s head because it thought that her hair was a nest.”

So skip forward and there I was on the sofa watching ‘Stranger Things’, that same afternoon I watched the first two episodes, in less than a week I was done with it. And even though I didn’t love the first two episodes, I liked the atmosphere enough and there was enough tension at the end of the episodes to keep me watching.

I had conflicted feelings about the show at first, on the one hand, I actually thoroughly enjoyed the episodes and I wanted to watch the next one, but I also was always left a bit underwhelmed. It didn’t feel like nothing I hadn’t watched before to me.

‘Stranger Things’ is definitely a beautiful show, with all kinds of aesthetic wonderfulness, but its quality goes deeper than just the surface. While it does borrow heavily from 80’s films, there’s also a lot of nods to one of my favorite horror writers: Mr. Stephen King, I can’t be the only one that got ‘Carrie’ ( I love Carrie) vibes from Eleven.

It’s more than just about paying homage, to some of the sci-fi and horror from the 80’s, though it starts as a murder mystery and eventually goes full-fledged sci-fi,  it does without getting too overbearing kudos to that!

The creators of the show The Duffer Brothers clearly know the era they were working with and know their stuff, but the most important thing is that their love for the era and it's films, even it’s music shines through.

We all love some music, books, and films from the 80’s, though it is safe to say that not that many of us would like to live in it now being conscious of how hideous the fashion was, it really was…

So the Duffer Brothers took the 80’s and weren’t afraid to create something build upon existing elements of that time. But as I said ‘Stranger Things’ is much, much more than just a pretty show.

It’s well written, well acted, and man does it have fantastic music! (the soundtrack is my new to go to put on in the background while I’m working for class).

It’s acting is above the level of a lot of tv series, all of the actors, the child actors too give very strong and nuanced performances, they build their characters into so much more than just their 80’s archetypes.

Also how cool is it that 80’s and 90’s icon Winona Ryder is in this?! It builds around elements from known 80’s movies and it pays the era a loving, nostalgic glance.

“Yeah, that’s right! You better run! She’s our friend and she’s crazy!”

Stranger Things is set in the 80's in a small town in Indiana, Hawkins. A typical  “we all know each other town”, where really nothing ever happens. Until a boy, Will disappears without a trace one day. 

His three best friends are determined to find him. However, during their search, they do not find Will, but a mysterious girl. Without name but with supernatural powers. Meanwhile, Will’s mother is also convinced that Will still lives, despite the fact that every indication seems to prove the opposite- 

And believe me, there are still a lot more strange things happening in Hawkins. Like in many films and shows from the time, adults and children, coexist but it is seemingly in opposing planes, a lot of the parents are unaware of their children’s internal world.

This is especially so with some of the teens and their parents, the show illustrates that time when teens and adults begin to grow a little apart, beautifully. 

But in this show, a supernatural mix is also thrown into the equation, super secret shit of the government went wrong (when does it not?) and now there’s a dark, alternate version of the town within the town, inhabited by a monster (The Demogorgon)  that smells blood from miles away and feeds onto the inhabitants.

The people in the town that went missing get into this alternate version of the town called the upside down. Now the group of children figures this out sooner thanks to their mysterious new friend Eleven, Eleven true to the cliche was experimented on because of her supernatural powers, by the government in their evil, top-secret lab.

The younger people of the town are onto the truth much faster than some of the oblivious adults, and some adults also are sooner than others, some just stay oblivious to what goes on around them, like boring “enjoying your chicken Ted” the only one in the show, to never shed the skin of his stereotype and mutated into a more interesting one. 

Ryder’s character is one of the first adults that experiences that something supernatural is going on in the town, she doesn’t give up on her son, and comes to believe that he makes contact with her through the Christmas lights, and is thus still there.

Though of course in accordance to the cliche, she questions her own sanity first, but still, holds on to that beacon of hope no matter how ridiculous. And while some say Winona Ryder pulled some serious overacting here, that may be so but how would someone react if they lost their child?

She has others around her question her sanity, but the character that eventually comes to believe her and one of my favorite characters in the show overall: Chief Hopper.

It’s implied that Chief Hopper and Joyce somewhat have feelings for one another. And hopper himself lost his daughter, so he feels a lot of empathy and sympathy for Joyce, and is in the end always there to support her.

Now what I loved about chief Hopper, is that he’s not an overly macho policeman, he’s a very kind and sympathetic man, with a somewhat nervous disposition because of his past. 

He’s also an alcoholic of who we perfectly understand why he became one, but underneath all of that, there is still the same kind, loving man. And as a coffee lover, I love anyone that would say “Mornings are for Coffee and contemplation.”

There’s the group of kids, all perfectly played by the child actors.They illustrate perfectly that childhood friendships are some of the strongest we have in our life, but they also face disagreements. Though the star of all the kids is arguably, Millie Bobby Brown as Eleven.

She delivers an insanely nuanced and emotional performance for her age, she never falters in the role and stays strong throughout,  I can predict now (and I’m probably not the only one) that’s she’s going to be big one day.

Then there’s the teens and the adults. The show is in this regard mostly focused on two families, The Wheelers and The Byers. All of the adults in the Wheeler household are blissfully ignorant of the events happening in the town, except eventually teenage daughter Nancy (who’s my favorite character but I’ll get to her).

And the Byers household. Now Joyce’s son Jonathan, who’s the brooding, quiet kid, that’s discovered photography (another cliche) at first doesn’t believe his mother and thinks that she has lost her mind.

“Maybe I am a mess. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’m out of my mind! But, God help me, I will keep these lights up until the day I die if I think there’s a chance that Will’s still out there!”

Until he too is confronted with the events. And later teams up with his crush Nancy to fight the Demogorgon. Now Nancy (played with brilliant subtlety by Natalia Dyer) who’s hideous layering style, I find secretly wonderful.

Nancy at the beginning of the show doesn’t really start out as a character that we love. She comes across, as the very shallow, somewhat bitchy older sister, that’s just found popularity, she’s dating in true 80’s fashion, an enormous douchebag.

She drags her best friend, the shyer Barbara to a party she really didn’t want to go to, chugs beer, ignores all of her friend's advice, and further ignores her to give into her hormones, and lose her virginity to the douchebag her friend warned her about.

But the really interesting thing about Nancy is that she grows, and eventually evolves from that storyline. Like in classic horror movie she would have died after this, only this show doesn’t do that her and gives her another chance- 

She realizes she made a mistake with her friend and sets out to repair the damage she made. In the meantime, she also befriends the kid, who’s not popular.

And she just becomes one of the biggest badasses in the show, being the first to willingly go into the upside down, and the first to devise a plan to kill the monster. Guys I just love Nancy. 

“I don’t think my parents ever loved each other. They must’ve married for some reason. My mom was young. My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac… and started their nuclear family. Screw that.“

Which leads to the very cool moment of her training with a baseball bat a scene I love, she and Jonathan stocking up on stuff to face the monster with, and eventually fighting it. 

And she also moves away from her grumpy older sister image and restores her relationship with her younger brother. 

Perhaps the only decision she makes that some people would be bothered by, is her choosing Steve over Jonathan (at least in this season) but she still didn’t change her personality that much, she stayed true to who she is.

And Steve arguably was redeemed a bit in the end, as he tries to make up for his mistakes, and ditches his utterly awful friends.

Overall Stranger Things is a show with a great binge-ability factor, a clear love of and an ode to the 80’s, but that goes deeper than just becoming a copy of classic 80′s sci-fi and horror. 

But anyway what makes it great, is that as deep as it can be after you’ve had a deeper look at it (it took me a while to really warm up to it) you can also just enjoy it as you spent an entire afternoon watching. 

‘Stranger Things’ is probably one of the best-crafted shows on Netflix though, truly one of those shows, that transcends the quality, of what’s usually expected of it and becomes a true phenomenon. It was the most popular Netflix in 2016 in America, and with this outdid ‘Orange Is The New Black’ now that is a feat. 

It’s in quality just as good as any film. It builds up its atmosphere brilliantly, not only is at pretty and pleasant to look at (there are some great special effects and just beautiful use of colors and lighting) but it’s also all believable and makes sense.

Its atmosphere is dark throughout, it’s almost like an inverted fairy tale, it’s not every day that Christmas lights become something so dark and sad. But it also knows when to be lighter and let the audience breathe, so we get some very intense, sometimes slightly frightening scenes (this depends on how easily you scare I think though). Alternated with moments that are funny, or heartwarming.

It’s got a love of all things nerdy as well, the most important characters in it are huge nerds, and where these people would usually be the victims, here they’re the heroes and they get to stand up to their bullies. 

It has acting, that’s at the level of some films, no overdramatic, soap-like acting, everyone delivers strong and confident performances. And then there’s as I said that wonderful soundtrack, a true 80’s synth soundtrack.

In conclusion, I’d say ‘Stranger things’ is indeed worth the watch, though I like some people had some difficulty with the first two episodes. But once past those two, it consolidated itself into something with a high nostalgia factor, while still managing to become unique.

I for one, like I think many other people am all set to enjoy season 2 when it arrives on October 27th. Whereas for all the influences; there’s a great deal of them, Spielberg’s films being one of them, but all of those you can find plenty on the internet. 

[lurkofficial-blog]

Chapter Five

The scientist had never thought to find a trace of lurk activity in such a small West Virginia town. He can barely believe what he sees, staring at his tracker, watching the small antenna spin around. It beams a small green laser, showing three glowing dots on the screen held firmly between his hands. Two are somewhat faint, but the third is a massive blotch on the radar. It strikes him with surprise.

He isn't technically proud of what he's done. He hasn't wanted to hurt anyone or anything, even though that had always been the obvious outcome. The scientist holds the device in his left hand, pulling down a pair of goggles over his face to give him an infrared vision of the forest with his other. He speed-walks, picking up pace as the antenna begins to spin faster and faster. ~~~ Colin's POV ~~~ Colin's ears quickly flatten in fear. "Wait-----Exxy? What's going on?? Who are you talking about?" "Dr. Stephen Miya," Exxy replies quickly. "Scientist. Lurk scientist. One of the guys who made our kind in the first place." His ears fold all the way back, indicating how worried he is. He stands in the corner of the clearing closest to the treehouse. "We have to get back; it's the safest place in the forest. If he gets here, he'll..." He trails off, shaking his head. "We have to get you to the treehouse." Exxy finally shoves them in the direction of the treehouse. "Get into hiding. I'll fight him off," he says anxiously, rushing back towards the clearing he was just in. His sprint is cut short. Stephen appears from behind a tree and shoots Exxy right in the back of his neck. Colin starts to back away, Ace following him closely. Colin looks toward Exxy collapse to ground with a ginormous thump, the lurk scientist standing over him with a strange device. "Oh, no!" he shouts. "Exxy??" He realizes that he probably shouldn't be yelling and covers his mouth with his hand. He looks back towards his friends and calls to them. "Ren----take Ace to the tree, won't you? I really don't want you guys to get hurt---Exxy just got shot by something----I have to help him!" Ren nods and grabs the back of Ace's shirt, dragging him along towards the treehouse. Colin plans to move, but doesn't; instead, he watches, terrified, as Dr. Miya looks down at Exxy's body, watching his chest rise and fall. Thank goodness----he's not dead, he thinks, somewhat relieved. The scientist holds up his device, pressing a button, switching a setting, and reading the quick description shown aloud. "A class eighteen. Impressive in these conditions." He stands up and stares at the rest of them, watching Ren and Ace disappear into the undergrowth. He frowns. "Running away so soon? I just want to study you!" he calls after them, his line of view moving down to Colin. He reads off the device again. "Class five. Not as impressive, but still something." He holds up the gun again, setting it back to stun and pointing it directly at Colin, who freezes up in fear. "Don't try anything," he says in a surprisingly cheerful tone. Colin stumbles back before tripping over a root and falling on the ground, shielding his face with one hand and holding himself up on the other. He starts hyperventilating as he stares up at the scientist, his heart rate picking up speed. "I'm---I'm n-n-not," he can barely get out. "The last time I met a demonic was over five months ago," Dr. Miya replies, pointing his device at Exxy before aiming it towards Colin again. His expression seems amused yet threatening. "She was one of the most intelligent, and the most rebellious." He tilts his head. "Are you rebellious, little shade?" Colin shakes his head, backing up against a small tree and shivering as frightened tears roll down his cheeks. "I d-don't-----I didn't-----I----don't----no! I don't know!" He doesn't take his wide, terrified eyes off the gun that's being pointed at him. "P-P-Please don't h-hurt----don't hurt me, sir-----please," he gasps, his breaths fast and shuddery. The scientist seems a bit surprised by this response, lowering the device just slightly. "Hurt you? Why would I want to do that?" He leans back on his heels. "Well, sure, I've hurt lurks before, but it's not like I wanted to," he says as if it isn't much of a surprise. He gives another curious glance to Colin. "No one's told you much about me, have they?" Colin's surprised by Dr. Miya's reaction, but that doesn't make him any less scared of him. He slowly lowers his hand down from in front of his face, and his breathing evens out ever so slightly more, though he's still shaking so badly he can barely hold himself up off the ground. "I------I've n-n-never heard of y-you bef----before, sir, I---only---only found out you existed j-just to--today," he stammers, his voice still quiet. "I--I don't want y-you to t-t-take me away, either." Stephen shakes his head and mumbles under his breath, "Poor pup, jeez." He gives a sympathetic smile. "Look, little shade, I'm required to take you back to LASED. The government can't just let a bunch of creatures capable of hurting and infecting people run wild." He hesitates, his expression changing with realization. "You... You're one of the marked ones, aren't you?" "Huh?" Colin blinks at Dr. Miya, his vision partially obscured by newly forming tears. "I----yeah, I think so." "Oh my God," Stephen replies, dropping the device entirely. He uses the hand which previously held the stunner/tracker to rip the goggles from his face, revealing his crystal blue eyes. "You're just a kid." He puts a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide. "I'm so sorry." He looks down at Exxy, stumbling back in alarm. "Is he..." He looks wildly between the unconscious boy and Colin. "No, his class is too high, he can't..." His gaze rests on the shade. "He is, isn't he?" Colin sighs, letting out some of his tension; now that Dr. Miya has dropped the weapon, he's a bit less afraid of him. He looks over at Exxy, who's still knocked out, then back to the scientist. "Yes, sir," he says, "He---He said he was sixteen years old." The scientist drops to his knees, pushing Exxy over onto his back. He stares in shock at his face, running his fingers over the scratches on his neck, his gaze unwavering. "He looks just like her," he says quietly. "She was the one that marked him, she's got to be the one who did that." He looks at Colin. "I didn't know...D-Don't worry, it's only a stunner! He'll be all right--" Suddenly, Exxy's hand comes up and grabs Stephen by the shoulder, making him yelp. The lurk's eyes fly open, the x-shaped pupils focusing on the man with a furiously protective stare. "You are not allowed to hurt them," he growls. He sits up, pushing Stephen onto his elbows. Exxy begins to stand up, raising the scientist up with him. Colin scrambles to his feet, thinking quickly and running up to Exxy. "Exxy, wait, he wasn't going to hurt me!" he says, his voice still quivering a bit. "Don't---Don't do anything bad to him!" Exxy looks at Colin in disbelief. "But... the demonic who marked me, she told me about what horrible things he's done to them..." He looks back at Stephen, fully standing up. "How can you not want to hurt Colin? It's what you've been doing for years!" "People change," Stephen replies in a pained voice, scratching at Exxy's firm grip. "Can you maybe, I don't know, let go of my shoulder before you hurt someone?" Exxy drops Dr. Miya, having been holding him up above the ground. The scientist steadies himself as he lands, brushing off his coat. He looks up at Exxy with a sympathetic expression and says hesitantly, "Look, I... I know it's shocking..." He pauses. "What isn't shocking right now? Just... I know it's shocking whatever your demonic told you--" "Don't call her my demonic," Exxy replies and drops back down onto the ground, crossing his legs and running a hand through his red hair. "I just don't know whom to believe, someone who hurt me or someone who hurt the one who hurt me." He looks up at Stephen. "Pain travels, Miya. It goes through each victim and never stops." "Don't say anything like that," Stephen replies with his brow furrowed. "That's depressing. It's not good to think like that." Exxy looks away from him again, rubbing the back of his neck. Dr. Miya looks over at Colin, expression soft and apologetic. Colin suddenly remembers what just happened. He looks away shyly before hesitantly making eye contact with Dr. Miya. He starts to inch towards him, but does so cautiously; he's still a little bit scared of the scientist. However, his soft expression implies that he really does mean no harm. Colin speaks up quietly. "I'm, uh-----I'm sorry I was---kind of-----freaking out," he says timidly. "I----I really didn't know that you, uh-----that you weren't going to hurt me, sir." "Like I said, it's not like I want to hurt anyone," Stephen replies, "and I have done so in the past. I wish I had seen what I was doing wrong." He shakes his head. "Well, anyway, I guess I should tell you two this." He takes a deep breath. "I founded LASED and the whole Project Lurk in the first place. I created your species to see how far we humans could push evolution." He hangs his head in shame. "I didn't know at the time how much my progress was hurting them." Colin doesn't really know what to make of this. This man says he created lurks-----which, by extension, means he's responsible for everyone getting marked. In an indirect way, Colin supposes. He responds by inching even closer to Dr. Miya, now feeling just a bit more curious than afraid. He sits down on the ground and scoots a bit closer to Exxy, just in case, looking towards Stephen with big eyes. "Well----at least-----at least you're not going to do that again-----right, sir?" "Oh, of course not," Stephen replies, waving his hand in dismissal. "It was a horrible mistake that I definitely won't be making again. No man in their right mind would do anything like that in the first place," he says with a lighthearted laugh. Colin wishes he knew more about Dr. Miya and wants to talk to him, but he also suddenly remembers that Ren is in the treehouse with Ace. He hopes they don't think anything bad has happened. "Uh," he says, looking from Stephen to Exxy, "I----I wonder, er, I think-----I should go and get, uh, Ren and Ace-----I'm sure they're worried," he says to Exxy in particular. "C-Can I?" "Go ahead," Exxy replies. "They'd probably like to know about Dr. Miya's... turn of character." "Not like I turned at all," Stephen mumbles under his breath. Colin glances at the two of them one more time; he hopes they'll get along while he's gone. He runs back to the treehouse and climbs the footholds, then the vines, finally emerging on the top platform. After looking around, he spots Ren and Ace huddled next to the beanbag pile. They look up when they hear him coming, and, once they do, he smiles at them. "D-Don't worry, guys," he says, "It's----it's okay, you can come down!" Ren instantly pops up from where she is sitting and walks over to Colin with a concerned look while Ace remains backed up, wide-eyed, against the treehouse wall. The girl leans down and speaks quietly to Colin. "I-Is, Is Exxy all r-all right? Wha- What happened? I-Is everything okay?" Colin isn't completely sure where to begin. He sucks in his breath and gets to his feet from where he's just emerged on the platform, nervously running his hand through his hair. "Well, uh----see, uh---the scientist, Dr. Miya, right, he-----was gonna shoot me. He really r-really scared me." He shivers as he recounts what happened. Ace quickly adjusts his rectangular glasses and jumps up as well, staring straight at Colin and looking rather horrified. "Wait, did you say he was gonna shoot you?" he asks incredulously. Colin nods, trying not to get panicky just by thinking about the occurrence. "He, uh----He pointed this---stunner at me, but----I think he----he realized I w-was human and dropped it, and I tol----told him Exxy was, too," he says quickly. "And I-----I don't think he'll hurt us, but------he still kinda scares me a little." Ren gives a panicked glance around the room. She turns to the entrance and stares at it before she can muster any words. "W-Well, I have to go see if Exxy is okay." Her amber eyes flicker towards Ace and Colin, then back to the entrance before she slides her feet down into the footholds and begins to climb down. Colin looks after Ren and is about to follow her when he suddenly jumps upon someone touching his shoulder. He whirls around to see that it's Ace, whose brow is furrowed in deep worry. "Colin, I---I need to talk to you," he says, his voice rather hushed. Colin automatically feels a bit uneasy when his friend says such a vague statement, but he nods anyway and calls down to Ren. "Hey----Ren? Can you wait for us down there, uh, please? Ace wants to talk to me, and----I want to make sure we're with you----we won't be long!" Ren sticks her head back up above the platform and nods before continuing to climb down. Ace only holds his concerned gaze. Once the two of them are alone on the top platform, Ace puts both of his hands on Colin's covered shoulders, turning to him and peering intently into his wide eyes. He frowns. "Colin-----this entire time, I've really been wondering----what the hell are you going to do about this, dude?" He makes a sweeping motion with his arm, gesturing towards the treehouse around him. "You've been in the forest for five days, and----and you're a---like---a werewolf-lookin' thing! And you're just a kid! Out here all by yourself!" He pauses, sighing. "Isn't there a way you can---reverse this somehow?" Colin tenses up and shakes his head; he has already thought about this several times. "Ace, n-n-no, I---I can't," he stammers, tears rushing to his eyes. "This----I----I can't get rid of this. I'm not sick-----This won't go away, I just keep getting worse and worse!" He shakes his head again more vigorously, his sobs and shuddery breaths quickly resurfacing. Ace immediately backs down when he sees that Colin is starting to cry. "Hey, wait," he says, the tone of his voice suddenly quiet and nervous. "Wait, kid, don't do that, not just yet, I'm sorry," he says quickly, stroking his arm. "Kid, hey, you're messing up all that fur on your face, don't cry, just calm down." Colin sniffs again. "S-Sorry," he mutters, hanging his head. Ace sighs heavily. "It's okay, buddy." He pushes his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose and turns away from Colin, walking over to lean up against one of the tree walls. "Listen, I----I have another thing. About the public." Colin looks back up. "What is it?" "You're missing," Ace says, staring directly at the small shade and emphasizing his second word. "And that means an awful lot of strangers suddenly supposedly care about you now, kid. It's all over social media, the papers, you name it. Stuff gets around here pretty quick, anyway, since this town is such a little one. The thing is, Colin, there's tons of rumors surrounding you. Tons. A lot of people think you ran away or got eaten by a forest monster. Most people think the latter, really." Colin tries to process this information. A bunch of complete strangers care about him? More importantly, now that he thinks of it---how are his other actual friends taking the fact that he's missing? "Ace?" he speaks up quietly. "How-----How's Mary?" "Mary?" Ace hesitates, sucking in his breath and running his hand through his hair. "She's---well, to put it simply, she's-----terrible. Colin, she's so sad. She thinks it's her fault you're missing because she didn't protect you well enough. She won't listen to me anymore, not like she ever did in the first place. She's----just-----really bad." "Oh---Oh, no!" Colin exclaims, shifting on his paws and pulling nervously on his hoodie strings. He feels awful for bringing such sadness upon his other best friend, Mary, the girl from school he's known for many years. "Ace, I wish she knew I'm fine and that I'm okay!" "Well, she obviously thinks you're in here somewhere----she sent me in to look for you, after all," Ace grumbles. All is silent for a few seconds before he cautiously speaks back up again. "Y'know----There's one other thing I think I ought to tell you." He makes a face. "You know that snotty rich kid who keeps trying to hang out with you and steal you away from me and Mary and stuff?" Colin blushes and gives Ace a rather indignant look. "Ace, don't call him that----Leo's nice! He's very polite, and----we hang out, he's had me over a few times----I think he's just trying to stay friends with me!" Ace raises his hands in defeat. "Look, man, I know, I'm trying to tell you something, here. Listen for a second." He sighs again, pushing his glasses up. "The thing is, he's been acting---well----kind of weird, actually. Oddly concerned. About you, I mean. I've never liked him much, since I thought he was trying to get close to you and use you as an 'unpopular friend' to get in with the cool kids or something. Well----you know what? He seems really worried. He asks Mary if she's heard anything about you every day. Every single day. Like, he even did on Sunday! He texted her while she was at church! It's crazy----and I thought that guy wasn't genuine. But he's concerned about you, kid. Turns out he actually cares, I guess." Colin's face grows hot and he looks down again, smiling a bit with his ears perked up. "He really cares? You really think he does? About me?" he says in a soft voice. "Yeah, I just said that." Ace faces him again, standing up totally straight, and narrows his eyes at his friend. "You know, Colin---I know what you're thinking. I've known for a long time; you want to ask him something, don't you?" Colin's eyes widen in fear. Had Ace, of all people, really figured it out? "Ask--Ask what? Wh-What do you mean?" Ace smiles. "You want to see if he'll be your friend. Like, officially." Colin sighs with relief and covers up a small chuckle with his hand. Ace frowns. "Hey, kid, what's so funny? Come on, I know you want to be best friends with him! Do you really think it's that hard to tell what you're thinking?" He pauses to glare at Colin, who's still giggling under his breath. He sighs. "Look, my point is, I still just don't trust that good-for-nothing popular kid all the way, so I don't want to lose you to him just yet, okay, buddy?" "Well---Okay," Colin says, successfully stifling his laugh. He's a bit crestfallen, though; he glances up at his friend with disappointed eyes. "But--do you think I should----be worried? About everyone----you know----being worried about me? I don't w-wanna be the reason for people to be sad!" "I know you don't, Colin, but----I mean, what am I supposed to tell them? 'Oh, I found him, but he's actually this dark wolf creature who can't touch people now'?" "I----I don't know," Colin whispers, lowering his head again. The tall, slim boy smiles softly and pats the short, plump one's shoulder. "Hey, don't worry, kid, it'll work out," he says simply before walking over to the platform entrance and grabbing the vine, climbing down it and presumably heading towards Ren. Colin lets out a long sigh, still not feeling very consoled, and follows him.