#you would not BELIEVE how many times i rewrote this thing

[stardust948]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender (Cartoon 2005) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), Azula & The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), Aang & Ozai (Avatar), Azula & Ozai & Ursa & Zuko (Avatar), Azula & Kiyi & Zuko (Avatar), Azula & Iroh (Avatar) Characters: Zuko (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Azula (Avatar), Toph Beifong, Aang (Avatar), Ursa (Avatar), Ozai (Avatar), The Gaang (Avatar), Mai (Avatar), Ty Lee (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aftermath of Torture, Healing, Mental Health Issues, Depression, Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Political tension, Racism, Angst, Grief/Mourning, invasive thoughts, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Bad Parent Ozai (Avatar), Abusive Ozai (Avatar), Manipulative Ozai (Avatar), New Ozai Society (Avatar), Azula & Toph Beifong Friendship (Avatar), Toph Beifong and Zuko are Siblings, Azula and Zuko Have a Good Relationship (Avatar), at least working on it, Toph inserts herself into the Fire Family, Past Mai/Zuko (Avatar), Past Aang/Katara (Avatar), albeit a one-sided crush, Post-100 Year War (Avatar TV), Zuko Loves Katara (Avatar), Katara Loves Zuko (Avatar), Minor Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Angst with a Happy Ending, Additional Warnings In Author's Note Series: Part 3 of Kintsugi Summary:

Zuko and Katara navigate their newfound relationship as the world recovers and civil war threatens the Fire Nation. Tensions rise even higher when secrets from the past deals made in the dark are brought to the light.

[hyukascampfire]

𝒯𝑂: 𝑆𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑂𝑁𝐸 𝐹𝑅𝑂𝑀 𝐴 𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐶𝐿𝐼𝑀𝐴𝑇𝐸 ༉

𝓘N THIS STORY 〃 a life lived as a human among the fae is one hard-earned. the folk are built of indescribable beauty, and of debauchery and mischief. for some, a life lived subservient to the folk is just fine; but to those who dream of something more, they would spend their lives clawing and biting to make it happen.

you, looking for a way to escape a life as a faerie’s human servant, put a new foot forward thinking that any life could be better than that. but, when your first assignment as a king’s spy is alongside a brooding, icy faerie man, you begin to wonder what your place in this foreign world really could be.

wc ➳ 23.2k

pairings faerie!taehyun x human!reader, faerie!yeonjun x human!reader

warnings angst, unprotected sex, voyeurism, orgasm denial, jealousy, angst again, dubious intentions of multiple main characters... poor mc has no idea who to believe

playlists ⑊ yeonjun ˒ taehyun ˒ series

…🪶ashlynn's note this part, i put my heart and soul into! i rewrote so many parts and agonized over following the path that i most wanted the story to go down—i hope it shows! xoxoxoxo, love ya! again, this is a long one, so pls let me know about spelling mistakes :,)

← ⑊ →

You had hoped that learning of Yeonjun’s relationship with the same crowd who have made attempts on your life would be enough to rattle your brittle heart into sense. You really had. As you watch Taehyun, bent over the war strategy table, though, you wish you had more time to sort it out in your head. You hate the thought of settling on half-baked answers and information all for the fact that time is not on your side. When had time ever really been kind to you, though? It had not made exceptions when you were small and innocent in your cradle, had not slowed down to allow you to at least cherish your final moments a normal child with her human parents. You can only fantasize who you would be if you had been given just enough time to know that gentle love. Even now, time makes your choices for you.  

Taehyun looks over those metal figurines as if searching for something in them. There are more of them stood and strewn out on the map. It reminds you how you are now faced with a plethora of newer, more powerful players.  

You miss when this had been a simple spying mission—when your path forward had been unobscured and clear. You envy that version of yourself: able to believe that bad things presented themselves as such. The world had been clean-cut. Evil had jagged teeth and foul breath, and good had soft edges and sweet smiles. You’re not sure where that distinction lies anymore.  

“How’s your shoulder?” you say, making your presence known. You’re sure he had been keen to your presence from the moment you’d entered the estate, though; not only thanks to his better hearing, but also because Taehyun is constantly assessing his surroundings. The smallest insect could hardly sneak up on him. You push off the doorframe and enter the room. 

He nods his head once in greeting, but he doesn’t tear his gaze away from the table’s ensemble. “It’s doing fine.” 

Sighing, you decide not to push it. The sight of that puncture had been ghastly, and it wreaks havoc in your belly every time you replay it, but the tick in his jaw when you mention it tells you enough of how he feels about disclosing whether or not anything might hurt him. How many times in the past few weeks had you forced him to do just that? It’s no wonder that the two of you butt heads so terribly. Allowing you to stitch him up must’ve been the extent of how far he’d let you see him in need of help. 

You gesture toward the table. “Have you decided when we leave?” 

Taehyun answers you with a strained sigh out through his nose: a testament to how he’d been mulling it over. He levies those figures a few more moments of his gaze as if they might speak an answer for him. They don’t. He concedes to their lack of direction and turns to you. “Every moment we spend here, we risk our identities further,” he starts, crossing his arms over his chest.  

You wince. He still believes that you’d at least contained some of your identity by taking out those three faeries. You know better. Even the bard in that tavern had known what had happened; it’s why Yeonjun ended up finding out in the first place. Even if not all of them had been a part of that rebellion, it’s reckless to assume that there were no more than that. 

Continuing, he says, “And judging by what we’ve picked up, we need to get it all back before the solstice.” He doesn’t pace as he thinks. Only the faraway look in his eyes betray the noise in his head. 

You hate the way it sounds like he’s going to demand that you leave immediately, and you hate how it sieges your tongue and makes it dance into a pitiful ploy to stay. To give yourself some credit, it’s better that Taehyun knows every bit of information you have. This moment is desperate for informed decisions. 

“I saw Yeonjun this morning,” you blurt. The words bubbled and bubbled behind your lips until they’d found the tipping point and spilled out. You’d agonized over what to make of it all for hours: that Yeonjun had been as deceitful with you as you’d been with him, that you are a sorry human girl that had wedged her way into the cross-firings of a war much beyond yourself, that you still have the gall to consider your own feelings despite its grandness... None of that worrying had led you to a conclusion that both your heart and mind would agree on.  

Taehyun’s gaze snaps to you, contained and remote aside from the twitching at the corners of his lips. The intensity of it makes you waver, but you have no time for wavering.  

“He’s... been made aware of our purpose here. He knows that we’re spies,” you say. As you watch him try to piece that together, you add, “He’s part of their rebellion.” 

Now he laughs, barbed and full of mock and disbelief. “The prince is rebelling against his father? He thinks he’ll find the throne like that? What’s his plan for when this falls through? For when his father hears of his mutiny? The prince will lose his head.” 

The thought makes you nauseous, despite how Yeonjun’s image has grown to be something murky. You don’t know what Yeonjun’s intentions are in aligning with the rebellion here. You hardly know anything about his relationship with his father and the High Court aside from the fact that he feels suffocated by his life back there. You’d assume that there’s a lot more to his reasoning, but you’ve learned your lesson about assuming that you know who people are. The inability to lie comes with the need for secrets. The thought that perhaps Yeonjun is only making a shady attempt for power crosses your mind, but either your own reasoning or your own stubbornness shoves it down. Nobody in faerie would hand their fealty to a prince who’d taken the throne of a long-standing king by those sorts of means. He’d be a king with no denizens to preside over. 

You interject Taehyun’s parade of scoffs. “He told me that war is coming, that it’s been coming.” 

His face drops, and he straightens up. “Of course it is. It’ll begin the moment we return with what we’ve found.” 

Your lips go a bit numb, and then your fingers follow. You know that this is your duty—it’d been this all along. It should come as no shock to you that he intends to relay this all to The King. But that was before you allowed your heart to make its home here. How simply he demands that you return to those lands with information that would kill Yeonjun... it has acid crawling a path up your throat. 

You make your best effort to ensure that your voice doesn’t falter as you speak. “He offered us protection as long as we stay here,” you say. “We don’t have to leave now.” You try to catch his gaze as you add, “We don’t have to leave at all.”  

You know that Yeonjun plays a part in the rebellion, but you don’t know how deep his devotion goes, and you also don’t know to what ends you can trust his intentions. How far do his loyalties to the rebellion go? And, where do his loyalties to you stand? The thought that he may have never loved you at all... it’s been a plague to your heart and mind from the very moment he’d revealed the truth to you this morning. Your guilt has chipped away at you without mercy—you’ve spent so many awful nights wishing you could unload your deceptions in front of him. How had it ended up so trivial in the grand scheme of things? How are you the one left feeling betrayed? 

You really, really cannot imagine having Yeonjun’s blood on your hands. He is one of them—a creature deception, and yet you still cannot shake those stolen nights from your bones. He had been your first. He’d made this place a home for you, where you had never had a home. It’s pitiful to search so deeply in someone else for your own strengths; even you can see that. Nevertheless, you do it. You suppose that a pair of warm arms and sweet words will do that to someone, no matter if you know that they could rot you like sweets do the tooth. It’s not unlike drunkards who find their day’s comfort in their drinks, even as it rots their body and mind away. Anything for a stretch of belonging and bliss. You're desperate for it. 

Taehyun’s sinewy words rattle your wandering mind back to reality. “He tells you that he is a member of the same group of people that have tried multiple times to kill you, and you believe him when he says he’s going to protect you? Still?” he spits, shaking his head. “What makes you so sure that he’s not just keeping us from running? That he isn’t handing us on a platter to his rebel friends? You’re going to get us fucking killed.” 

Blood roars like frothy-white rapids in your ears, warring with the echoes of his honey-glazed exclamations of love. To some capacity, he had to have meant those words. Faeries can’t lie, and he had said it so plainly. He loves you. 

“We can’t leave yet,” you say, stepping toward him on legs that you fear might collapse beneath you. “You said it yourself; we can’t return without the whole story. If we return now, we could be missing something.” You study the frosty set to his face and suck in a stabilizing breath. “Please, Taehyun. Please trust me on this.”  

You sound desperate and pleading, but you don’t reel it in at all. You are desperate and pleading. You have no intent of returning as some successful spy and continuing a life of deception and violence. It’s not who you are; it’ll never be who you are. Maybe this world tries to ask it of you, but you refuse to concede to it. 

“Part of our job is staying alive,” he says, his body rigid. He doesn’t like where you’re going with this, you can tell that much. 

“Is that what you want? To be a pawn of war? Isn’t that what we are if we bring this information back?” you challenge. “Don’t you think that if the prince of all people has turned against him, then serving at his hand is the wrong choice? I don’t know The King—I’ve never even seen him! Why should I be excited to serve him?” 

“The prince has more reason than anybody to want his father off his throne.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you say, stepping further toward him. Though, it does make you revisit those thoughts. If vying for the crown is really Yeonjun’s intention, you suppose he’d have no problems pleading with you to stay in order to tie off loose ends. You wish you could see it all from somebody else’s untainted eyes. “What I’m saying is, do you want to be a spy? What has The King ever done for you to earn your loyalty?” 

Taehyun looks at you with disbelief, the corners of his mouth tilting down. “I don’t care about the damn king,” he snaps, and then gestures down at the table with all those figures. “The Queen operates on necessary evils. Where she can find a string to pull, she will pull it. My father was her general for a reason. Do you think she would keep him unless she approved of his violence? There is no good side to this war—just sides. If you’re suggesting that we stay here and try to forget that we came as spies, then you can forget it.” 

You glance over at the war table and wonder how you’ve become a moving piece in ancient faerie politics when all you’d set out for was a purpose. You’d been so warped by your bitterness with your upbringing that you’d failed to see how anything could be worse than that. You’d been so excited that you jumped willingly into dark water without knowing how deep it was, and now your feet can’t touch the ground. Is this the purpose you want? 

“Leave, then,” you say, stepping back. “You can leave. Just let me stay here. Please.” 

Something in Taehyun’s expression flips, so subtle that you can’t name it. It unsettles you, your hair standing on edge. There is something in his eyes that you do not like.  

“So, that’s it?” he says, his voice odd too. “That’s all it took for you to hand your future over on a leash to him?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you stammer. The only ones with a collar around your neck are the spies. They’re the ones who insisted on that geas—the ones who needed to compel you with their faerie magic to ensure your obedience.  

“It means that you got all the way here, uncovered a whole rebellion, and made a life for yourself, not handed to you by a prince, and you’re going to trade it in. It means that you’ve let him convince you that you are weak and need to be coddled.” 

Your fists curl tight and dig your nails into your palms. “I never wanted to be a spy,” you grit out. Yeonjun is not the reason you want to stay here. He may be part of it, but you’ve come to be utterly unwilling to return to that spy den like it’s your home, or something. It’s not. You’d slept there for one night. Beyond just your word and that geas, what reason do you have to return? 

“You didn’t? And yet, it’s what we are, isn’t it?” he says. “Do you think that I dreamed of being a spy? That I do it because I love it? Actions have their consequences.” 

“Then, what do you do it for, Taehyun?” you say. “When do you begin living your life for you? Doing what you do because it’s what you want?” 

Taehyun seems to consider your words for a few long heartbeats before settling into something in his head. You allow yourself to let go of some of the tension in your shoulders as you watch his expression morph into something much less poisonous. 

You hadn’t expected him to react like that. 

“Do you have any weapons on you?” he says. 

Faltering, you sputter out, “What?” You look over the room. The last time you’d been in here, you’d sparred. Does he intend to properly fight you in here now? Had you pushed him too far? Shaking your head and feeling at all the places you usually tuck your blades away, you say, “No... I don’t.” 

“Get some. Where we’re about to go...” he trails off, as if reconsidering, but then he continues, “I’ll get you a hag stone.” 

You furrow your brows, not taking off to do so. “A hag stone?” you echo, thankful that he isn’t trying to duel you, but wary at the need for such a faerie ward. Hag stones are of the more serious class of wards used to protect humans from faerie enchantment or glamour. Most often, humans would string theirs up with a bit of thread through the hole of it and wear it around their necks as a pendant. Unlike turning one’s clothes inside out or taking red berries on your person, hag stones protect against the more devastating faerie magic. You shudder simply wondering what you might need a hag stone to protect yourself from. 

He nods a bit solemnly. “Kelpie do not let a meal or trick pass them by when they wait so long to have them.” 

You look at him with wild eyes, hoping to see him laugh or play his words off as a joke. He does not, but of course he doesn’t. Taehyun doesn’t waste his words on jokes. 

“Why... Why would we be going to a kelpie?” you ask him, laughing around the ball of fright in your chest. 

He lends you a wretched look. “I have old debts to call on.” 

❆

The forest in which Taehyun leads you is untamed. At some point, the sound of nature’s buzzing tapers off, and you know that you’ve entered a deeper forest than you ought to be sticking your nose in. When the forest goes silent, it’s only for one reason.  

You’d grown up here. Maybe you’d been born elsewhere, but that does not negate the fact that you had grown up scared every day of the powerful creatures that inhabit this world. Your fear has ruled you for your whole life, and you let it. You’d be a fool not to. It’s how you survive in this world. Your limbs tremble; they plead with you to listen to everything you’ve ever known—do not mess with what is bigger than you.  

You step around frost-capped puddles and dance between briars, careful not to snag yourself on their claws. It unsettles you further that this part of the forest is so untrodden and overgrown. With no folk coming through, you fear how the kelpie might behave when you make an audience before it. Will it climb straight from its frosty swamp and drag you back down with it? Is the hag stone you clutch at your chest enough to keep you safe? 

“I don’t understand why we’re doing this, Taehyun,” you say, delicately avoiding any tumbles as you speed up to gauge his feelings by his face. You’re not fond of the remote blankness in his eyes, nor the staunch determined set to his jaw. “That thing might kill us, and your shoulder is hurt. You shouldn’t be out here; you should be letting it heal.” 

“I know my limits,” he says. 

Grimacing, you return his curt tone. “Taehyun.” You grab at the material of his sleeve with urgency. When he stops to look at you, you continue. “I want you to actually listen to me. You’re being unreasonable. Yeonjun said he’d use his pull to protect us. Both of us. We have no reason to be out here, you’re just putting us in danger.” 

He lets your words stew in the air for a moment before saying, “I’m the one putting us in danger? Me?” He scoffs. “We are about as safe dealing with a kelpie as we are living off his promises. I’m doing what’s best for us. Trust me.” 

You’re winded by his choice of words. You’ve become wary of dealing out your trust so frivolously. Those two words ring alarm bells. 

“But where is this coming from? You didn’t want to stay.” Your breath furls out in a plume of white smoke in front of your face as you speak.  

He looks as if he doesn’t want to answer that. It only makes you more apprehensive. Your limbs fill with lead, planting you where you stand. “Taehyun, I’m scared,” you say. “Isn’t finding help from a solitary faerie a bit too far? How is trusting Yeonjun any more dangerous than that?” 

Taehyun steps toward you. “He is going to kill us. It’s not if, it’s when. That bastard is going to hurt you. This... This is for us. We are self-sufficient; we don’t need his protection shit.” A bitter tang colors his words. “I know that you’re scared. I won’t let it hurt you; I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise that you’ll be okay. You want to stay, don’t you?” 

You nod. You would even make deals with a kelpie for it.  

“Okay, then, let’s go,” he says, taking off with those words, effectively punctuating the conversation.  

You follow him. 

You grow more anxious the deeper you trudge into the forest without any consolation as the daylight begins creeping away. Following behind Taehyun, the wind whips at the perfect angle so that his form takes most of its terror, allowing you a respite from at least some of the brutal cold. You don’t feel any remorse using him as a shield against the elements—frost runs through his veins. He doesn’t shiver or wince at it. 

Taehyun stops a few feet before a wintry mire framed by crystallized cattails and reeds. Your heart stutters as he looks around to ensure that this is the right spot. The water is dark and deep. You stay a healthy distance away from it. You do not want to find out just how deep it is. 

“Where is it?” you say, keeping your voice low as if the beast might lunge from the water and snatch you up if you don’t. 

Taehyun surveys the forest surrounding you and then the body of water as he always does, and when he looks to you, you already know he’s calculated and planned. He doesn’t face a situation without thought—that notion soothes you, even if it’s to the slightest degree.  

“It won’t come until I call it,” he says, gesturing at those murky and horrible watery depths. Swallowing hard, you consider how close you stand to it. You take a shuffled step back. “When you see it, you need to stay calm. Don’t let it see your fear. It’ll find it amusing and latch onto you. Do you understand?” 

A rush of heavy dread spreads from your core and seizes your lungs at his words. You’ve made it this far. You want to stay. You want to stay, bad. If this thing outsmarts you, you will not go down without swinging this time. You have your daggers, and you know how to wield them. Bravery is most of the battle, isn’t it? 

You muster a nod, trying to give yourself a brave heart, but Taehyun shakes his head. Your eyes must betray how stricken you are. “Do you understand?” he repeats, his voice sharp and grave. 

“I do.” 

He accepts your words, pressing on. “It will try to trip you over your words and spin you into a trap with tricky words. Do not entertain it, even as it tries, okay?” 

You’ve been terrorized by faerie tricks your whole life. You can handle their schemes just fine. “Okay.” 

Taehyun frees a blade from its hiding place and brings it to his palm. He slides it there, slicing it open. Crimson creeps from the slit, running in between his fingers and trickling onto the snow. He’d cut pretty deep. 

“Why are you—Taehyun?” you say, stepping toward him as he curls his wounded hand into a fist over the water, shaking it so as to let the droplets down into the black water. You regret those steps you’d made toward him as something comes crashing through the surface. 

No, rather than emerging from under the surface, the beast is born from the water, manifesting from it as something gangly and wretched. From its pointed ears to its hooves, it pushes up from nothingness until it is standing there, real and terrible before you. Its skin glistens with a thickness like oil and its hair and tail hang in heavy, seaweed-like tendrils, plastered against its body. The scum floating on top of the water clung to its hair and pelt as it rose, twigs and the like poking from its withered body. A bridle cages its head, leather reins dangling down. Of all its awful things, you believe that its eyes are the worst—bone-white and piercing, they send a terror down your spine that solidifies in your bones. You know you will not soon forget the ancient soullessness that lives there. The folk do sometimes resemble the places in which they hail from; you suppose that the kelpie bares striking resemblance to the swirling water that sits at its feet. 

You try not to choke or gasp or react in any way at all, but it isn’t easy. You focus your adrenaline on keeping your breathing as even as you can manage. 

“It has been a long time since I’ve found a human at my doorstep,” the creature says, steam blowing from its nostrils as it snorts. How long might a long time mean to a faerie, especially one you know is so ancient? You hope that your presence does not intrigue the beast at all. 

Taehyun swoops in before you can speak, and you are boundlessly thankful for it. “I’ve come to call on the debt you owe me,” he says. He doesn’t leave any room for any familiarity or playfulness. 

“Is it that time?” the kelpie says, placing one hoof down onto the snow. It had looked so incorporeal and liquid that you half expect it to burst and turn to water as it does, but it climbs out just fine. Very real.  

Taehyun eyes the kelpie as it makes land, dribbling with water and its kelp hair swinging. You swallow hard as it disregards his presence to observe you. You’re used to the folk disregarding you, not this. How many years had you yearned for their attention? Right now, you scare under it.  

“For what do you need my help, boy?” it says, voice gurgled, “And why do you bring this human along? Is it for her? Or, rather, have you brought her as your peace offering?” 

Your legs tremble beneath you.  

“I don’t owe you any peace offering, kelpie,” Taehyun says, his head held righteously high. “You’ll offer me what I ask, or you’ll suffer for it.” 

Shifting under the tense atmosphere, you still don’t speak. In Faerie, debt is law. The folk live by a law that is, like many other things about them, foreign to you. Whatever natural laws by which they govern themselves are vastly lost on you—but of keeping promises and respecting debts, you are very aware. They hate to be indebted—you’re sure it’s why this kelpie is so peevish. You hope that the folk’s need to balance their debts is enough to keep it hospitable.  

The kelpie makes a rumbling and throaty sound that mimics that of a laugh. It rumbles the ground below your feet. “Just as rigid as the last time we met like this,” it says. “I wonder if it's because you’ve inherited your father’s stone heart, or because you fear me?” 

The kelpie remains playful with its intonation, but tension lies thick and dangerous beneath both of their words. You know well enough that the beast is not being light-hearted.  

Taehyun holds his face firm. He refuses to give an inch. “Do not try that with me. You have your word to upkeep for my help.” 

Shimmering under the moon’s light now, the beast treats us with a long moment of hostile silence. You can feel its malintent despite how hollow those eyes remain.  

“What do you ask of me?” it finally says, whipping its drooping tail behind it. 

“There is a rebellion here,” starts Taehyun, shoulders relaxing to the slightest degree as the kelpie defers, “The north is uneasy. I’m optimistic that you’ll lend us your protection and hand, whenever I call on it. Regardless of it being in my interest, I’m sure that you aim to keep your lands peaceful, no?” 

“Rebellion? For what would anything of the courts be in my interest? Of their rebellion or even just their ridiculousness, I do not care. I’ve left your gentry to you, leave me to mine.” 

Taehyun’s nostrils flare. “I’m not asking you to care about the courts, I’m asking you to lend me your help when I ask of it,” he grits out, “Or, rather, I’m not asking. I am informing you that I am expecting you to uphold your debt to me, and you’d better be ready to do so. This is just courtesy.” 

You feel the kelpie’s offense in the hollow quiet that follows Taehyun’s demands. Among many things, the fae are prideful creatures. Your stomach is in terrible knots. Taehyun is just trying to regain the power in the situation. You know that. It doesn’t make you any less scared for your life. With an ancient creature like a kelpie, it is paramount to earn its respect, or else it will push you around. 

Worse than that. It will drag you down into its waters and make your soul into a meal. 

“It’s a pity you think that hag stone will save you from me, human.” The kelpie turns its attention back on you. You bade your knees not to crumple. “It takes much more than that to protect you in places like these. Perhaps you’ll be safe from petty enchantment, though.”  

Taehyun shoves his words in before you can give the kelpie any sort of reaction. Not even a tremble. “Understood?” 

“You’ve made deals with our kind before. The magic reeks on you. It’s lousy enchantment, I could dissolve that geas for you. All you’d have to do is climb up on my back, and I’d grant you your freedom.”  

You can’t help but perk up. The prospect of ridding yourself of the geas placed over you is a painfully delicious one. 

Bristling, Taehyun steps between you and the kelpie. Whether he does it to fight off the beast should it lunge at you or to prevent you from approaching it, you’re unsure. “Do not,” he says. 

“Wasn’t going to.” You say it, and of course it’s true. The kelpie is poking around to see what will most entice you. Regardless, you can’t deny how awfully you wish that geas were gone. It’s the one thing that you fear will tether you to The King’s bidding. No matter how you armor yourselves from the rebellion here in the north, what’s to stop the spies from tugging on the enchanted leash? One command from Cricket, and your body would betray you and walk the whole way there itself. 

Though you don’t verbalize your interest, the kelpie no doubt sees the interest alight in your eyes. It pounces accordingly. “Unless you’d prefer that I give you a whole other enchantment. Protection against any of our kind’s glamours? Permanant true sight? A touch to my pelt would be all it would take for you to make yourself free.” 

Taehyun clicks just the hilt of his sword free from the sheathe. “Stop with the tricks. You can find your fun elsewhere.” 

Like the swampish water behind it, the kelpie stands there totally still, studying Taehyun. You really wish this altercation could wrap up at any pace faster than it currently is. You’re itching to escape those white eyes. They’re much more intimidating as night settles in. What sort of thing had Taehyun even done to indebt a creature like this to him? Once again, you’re left confronting how little you know of him and his past. By the time you’ve come to terms with the last thing, the next arrives to remind you that the folk lead much longer lives than you do. 

It finally speaks again. “Why have you brought this human with you, Lord?” Its furls out the term like a weapon. This bitter intonation that you’ve seen be used multiple times to speak of Taehyun’s title sticks with you. The title is a taunt. In this case, the you know it comes from the kelpie’s place of utter indifference and lack of obeisances toward whatever sovereignty the Courts may claim. The kelpie only answers to the land.  

“Because I needed you to know that your protection will extend to her. Know her face, learn it so that when I call on you, you’ll play your part correctly.” 

“I fail to see why you dote over her safety. Who is the human to you?” The kelpie takes a step forward, its powerful muscles rippling with the moon’s white light on its ink pelt. You mirror it with a step back. Taehyun stays put. “I owe her no help. That’s not how this works. I concede that I am bound to your help, but I do not repay double. You overestimate my generosity.” 

You watch as Taehyun takes on a posture that you’ve come to recognize as his offensive posture, potent adrenaline twisting up your stomach and sending your heart into a fit so fierce that you feel it in all your pulse points. You’re sure that swords are a laughable matter to the kelpie. Iron, though, you’re sure would still burn. Turning your hands to fists, you make a conscious effort not to find your iron weapons. If the kelpie were to see that, it may escalate things. You do not want to escalate.  

It’s only smart for you to consider your disadvantages: Taehyun is wounded. He had literally been struck by an arrow last night. You’re so far into the woods that running would consist of stumbling over roots and avoiding thorny bushes. Taehyun might know them, but you’re fully unfamiliar with a kelpie’s weaknesses, or if they even have any at all. You’re better off appeasing the beast.  

“Taehyun,” you warn. 

He pays it no mind. “I said,” he snarls, “stop with the tricks. You owe your very ability to draw breath to me, and beyond that. It was my neck on the line to grant you that. What I did for you was worth many debts. If you want to settle it all to even, you’ll do it. Don’t play this like a fool.” He doesn’t address the kelpie’s first question. 

Taehyun creeps toward the kelpie. You’re not sure where he sources all that fearlessness from inside himself. He’s way too close for your comfort. “What are you doing?” you hiss, quiet and meant for just him. There is no way he intends to fight this thing right now. You’d prefer taking the risk of trusting Yeonjun’s word over this any day. 

“Even the general”—the kelpie spits that word with a similar distaste as he had Taehyun’s title—“knew when he was in over his head. Ask a more respectable payment of me.” 

You suck in a breath. “Let’s just go,” you tell Taehyun. “We don’t need to do this; we didn’t need to in the first place.”  

As Taehyun takes one last step toward the kelpie, he reaches a sword’s distance from it.  

Really? Is this happening right now? 

“I’m giving you grace right now, kelpie,” he says, his voice pure warning, “My father is the one who landed you like that. It’s humorous that you’d even speak of him while we’re sorting out the debts that you incurred because of him. I suggest that you give up the sly act.” 

Once again, a charged and meaningful pause rings throughout the forest. The silence speaks volumes of how the kelpie takes his words.  

It’s a flash of movement, the two dark figures like blurs as Taehyun’s hand flies out to grab a hold of the reins that hang from its head and the kelpie rears back with a bone-piercing, harrowing whinny. He braces himself on its side and uses its flank to push off of. The creature bucks fast, but Taehyun is faster.  

The rage that it bellows with guts you. The forest ground trembles with its frantic clambering, hooves battering the snow.  

The kelpie’s frenzy ends as Taehyun takes the reins in both hands. It doesn’t make any more attempts to send him off, nor does it stumble about wildly. It settles. The kelpie bows its head. Your hands cover your mouth. They’re ready to muffle your scream. You wait for Taehyun to become one with the beast’s figure and for it to drag him down to the depths of its water that don’t see the sun’s light. Nothing happens. Instead, he slips off the back of the kelpie without any trouble, landing with a thud back on the ground.  

“Fix your appearance,” Taehyun commands.  

You allow a sound of surprise to slip as the beast melts down, shedding water to the ground and crumpling over. You watch it shrink all the way down until, where once the gangly beast had stood, the form of a faerie man stands. He unfurls from the forest floor to his full height, taller than Taehyun and reedy in his limbs. His hair cascades down from his head in shaggy, damp brown locks with twigs and leaves tangled in. Sharp faerie ears protrude from it. It confirms to you that this is just another form of the kelpie, not someone else entirely. 

“You’re a fool,” the man says, turning on Taehyun with wild eyes.  

You join his confrontation on Taehyun. “What the hell is going on?” you say. You’re still jittery with the urge to run. 

Taehyun entertains only you, saying, “I hoped that he’d just make things easy in the first place.” 

The man, dripping with water from his tattered, sopping rags for clothes, sneers. “I would not serve you if you fucking killed me. Of course you had to take my bridle.” 

You give Taehyun an expectant look. You’re in dire need of being filled in. 

“His bridle,” he says, grabbing the reins that still hang from the man’s face even in his human form and tugging him into a walk into the forest, “I grabbed it. He serves me, now. He can hate it all he wants, but he’ll do what I ask.” 

The thought makes you deeply uncomfortable, but you can’t pin exactly why. It lives somewhere around the place inside you that loathed the way the folk made your kind into their glamoured servants.  

“We’re just going to bring him back with us?” You trail them tentatively back through the woods that you had arrived from. “Like a prisoner, or something?” 

“Exactly like a prisoner,” the man says, excited to get a hit in on Taehyun. Of course, he’s unhappy.  

He stumbles as Taehyun tugs him forward by his bridle. “Shut your mouth,” Taehyun says. It’s more commanding than angry. “What’s your name?” he asks him.  

The man looks as though he wants to deny him that knowledge. Names are a powerful thing to a faerie. They spend their lives hiding them away—to give away their real name would make them totally vulnerable to the whims of whoever knows and uses it. However, you assume that whatever hold Taehyun has over him now works in a similar way, and his lips move despite his revolt.  

“Beomgyu,” he answers, eyes full of bite. 

You climb between a pair of close-resting, gnarled trees. “Does he have to keep that thing on, Taehyun?” you say, struggling with the sight of him being dragged along. It’s unsettling. “Like, does it work without that?” 

Stopping, Taehyun reaches up to pull the bridle off and around from Beomgyu’s head. He lets it fall to the snow. “You can use his name if you need to command him and I’m not around. He’ll have to do what you say.” Pushing Beomgyu into a walk, he says, “You’re going to protect us if in any case we need it. That includes her. You’re going to stay within my estate, unless one of us brings you somewhere. You won’t try your hand at any escape, and you won’t make any attempts to harm us either directly or by omitting something you are aware will do so.” 

You rub your hands together to generate heat as he lists his commands. Why would he even need those precautions, if Beomgyu is supposed to be his compulsory servant now? Would that not mean that he’d be unable to harm him? Either Taehyun is being extra precautious, or the command he has over him is weaker than you had thought at first. Beomgyu scowls the whole way through. Perhaps if Taehyun had not spoken those exact words, he would have lunged at him. 

As the kelpie stalls, Taehyun urges him forward once again with a shove. “Walk,” he snaps. “You did this to yourself. If you’d been a respectable man, I’d have only asked for your help when we needed. Now, you’re following us everywhere.” He allows him to stew on that for a little before saying, “You do your job well and I’ll let you return to your waters. I’ll forget I even made you my servant, and you’ll live knowing you’re no longer in my debt. You’ll not have to worry that someone might tame you again, because I already had, and I won’t even utilize it. We’ll never even make each other’s acquaintance again. You’ll be free to toil in your forest, and I will stay far away. All I need is for you to keep us alive and unharmed.” 

At least he doesn’t intend to keep him forever as an eternal servant. Most faeries that fall into debts work their long lives as living servants. Your years as Nut-hatch's worker taught you how that life whittles your soul down. Hundreds of years of just that is unfathomable. Maybe that is the cost of betraying honor here, though.

“So be it,” Beomgyu says, teeth gritted.  

You continue to trudge through the forest behind them. 

❆

Once you’re within the walls of the estate and Beomgyu is given a place to stay, you turn to Taehyun. “What part of that was safer than trusting Yeonjun?” you say.  

His eyes drop closed and he sighs. “It was worlds safer,” he grits out. “I knew what I was doing. You had that hag stone, and I’d have cut him down if he tried anything.” 

He stretches out his shoulders, shifting them uncomfortably under the fabric of his tunic. You know that his sewn-up wound bothers him. Could it be getting infected? You hope not—an infection this early on would most definitely mean it would be a nasty one. If only he weren’t insistent on pretending that it’s nothing. “I don’t think you could”—you gesture at your own shoulder—“you’re going to infect your shoulder. I don’t know how to treat an infected wound that big.” 

“I wouldn’t have even gone there if I thought I couldn’t handle it. I had a plan. I can protect us just fine.” 

Us. You’ve been wondering what your purpose here might become once you abandon returning to your duties. Would you be staying with Yeonjun? If he betrays you, and Taehyun were to push you out now that you’re no longer partners in duty, where would you go? Crawl to the doorstep of some random faerie to place yourself in their services, just to find yourself a warm place to stay? Taehyun now makes it clear that he still sees the two of you as a pair, but why? You still can’t understand why he’d suddenly switched up the moment you said you’d stay here even if he left. Realistically, he should’ve killed you for being a traitor to the king that he serves. You know that his intentions are more complex than that, but you fail to grasp where they lie. His actions and his words clash.  

“And when Yeonjun doesn’t betray us? What will all of this be for?” 

“This doesn’t stop at the prince,” he says, “there are more players than just him and The Queen. Any one of them could determine that we’re liabilities. Don’t you think that we should prepare for that? We came here as spies infiltrating their court from the very king that they rebel against; of course they’ll have plans for us. It’s still best that you stay your distance from the prince from this point on, regardless, unless you bring the kelpie.” 

Your mouth drops open, brows pinching. You don’t like the thought of being chaperoned at all. If Yeonjun is to betray you, then it’ll be your own fault. You can take the consequences of your actions just fine. “I think I can make that decision for myself,” you say, voice low. “And I can protect myself, too. Are you saying my skills aren’t up to your standards? Well, I didn’t spend that time working on them for nothing, and I don’t plan on stopping. I know I’m not perfect, but I think I can at least use a dagger adequately.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Taehyun says, eyes flat with frustration. “You can protect yourself well. I know that. What I mean is that you shouldn’t rest your life on his integrity. I have no doubts that you’d be able to protect yourself from him alone. He’s delicate. The King doesn’t pamper his children, but I have no doubt that the prince hasn’t wielded a sword anywhere other than in sparring. But you don’t know if you’ll ever truly be alone, and you don’t know whether or not he’s setting you up. I think you can at least agree that it’s best that you can acknowledge that and behave accordingly, no?” 

“I rested my life on your integrity today. Am I supposed to trust you blindly, too? What if you’re just stringing me along until you kill me for my treason to The King? You were his spy, no? How many years did you serve him? Why have you given it up so easily? Why are you staying here? None of it makes sense to me, but I still trusted you. Was I wrong for that? Are you a liar, Taehyun? Does your tongue tell lies?” 

His eyes crystallize, a few degrees colder than you’d seen them all day. “I can lie,” he says. “But would I have done what I did today if I intended to kill you? It’s time that you see that actions tell you so much more than words ever will.” 

Again, he treads around your questions about his intentions. “Why are you staying here?” you repeat, studying him with your suspicion.  

He’s quiet. 

“Answer me,” you demand. 

“Is this not my home?” he says. 

Unsatisfied, you press more. “I thought you hated this place. Why would you want to stay here? Don’t you have an awful reputation here?” 

His eyebrows shoot up, but his face stays hauntingly blank. You’re used to his blank mask, but this feels different. “If you think that I left here because of my reputation, then you’ve fooled yourself.” He begins making for his quarters. “I have obligations to fulfilling my father’s role as Lord of this estate,” he says before turning and ending the conversation on his terms. 

That leaves you just as confused. If he cared about his responsibilities here, he would’ve never left them in the first place to become a spy under The King. It makes no sense. Whether or not it’s true, you’re positive that you aren’t getting the whole story. You sigh and drag your feet bed-bound. You hope to never have another day as unending as today again. 

❆

You dodge Beomgyu for the entirety of the day, not sure what to make of a new presence around the estate, even if it’s an indebted servant beast of a presence. You’d half expected Taehyun to rope him up in the horse stalls outside, making that his permanent residence, but he’d given Beomgyu a place somewhere in the servant’s quarters. You’re glad of it—you may be wary of him, but you don’t wish anything like that for him. Now that he has a more human form, you find yourself able to empathize with him more than you were when he was a hulking, killer water horse. He doesn’t necessarily run around much—without a doubt because he’s not the happiest about being forced into Taehyun’s servitude. You don’t blame him. 

Despite your efforts, he enters the kitchens while you’re alternating between chomping on a slice of bread and a platter of dates. He eyes you. Though in this form his eyes are not as piercing, they’re still heavy.  

You offer him a slice of the bread and push the platter toward him. “Hungry?” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t eat the way you do.” 

Then why’d he come to the kitchens? Either he’s exploring, or he came looking for you. “Not even like this?” you ask, gesturing down to his form. 

“I eat when someone is foolish enough to come to my waters,” he says. “I thought I’d be eating yesterday, but the Lord subverted those plans, didn’t he?” 

You laugh a bit, though it’s absurd to laugh about being eaten with the same creature that had intended to do so.  

“I sometimes go for more years than the entire span of your human life without eating,” he says, tilting his head to one side. Shaggy locks of hair follow his head with it. It’s unkempt and in dire need of a washing to rid it of dirt. 

You gesture at his dirt-smudged cheek. “Do you want to clean up? I’m sure Taehyun has some clothes to spare for you. There are some pretty nice bathing quarters, here, too. The kind that makes you reluctant to get out.” 

A wry smile cracks across his face, a bit feral like the rest of him. “I’m not afraid of some dirt. These are my clothes. I’d go naked before dressing myself in his.” 

“Okay, then,” you snort, shrugging. “No baths.” You rip a bite out of the wrinkled fruit in your hand. “How did you even end up... in debt to Taehyun?” you ask, eager to fill yourself in. If Taehyun insists on not telling you anything, you’ll find it in other places. You’d picked up that it had something to do with his father, but you need to know more. The more you’re able to piece together, the better you’ll be able to make sense of Taehyun’s behaviors. You hope so, at least. He holds is truths very close to himself, and almost everybody else seems to harbor a poignant distaste for him. 

Beomgyu’s face sours up again. “I had a dispute with his father. The General was going to raze my forest and kill each one of us. I’d called on him and asked for his help. I’m not sure what he did, but The General never came. If I knew it’d land me like this, though...” He grimaces. “I’d have just let him make me history.” 

Reigning in the laugh that bubbles in your chest at his resentment, because you’re positive that you finding humor in his misfortunes would ruffle him, you nod and pocket that information. “Then, why didn’t you just agree to help when he tried to collect your debt in the first place?” 

“I was going to,” he snaps. “He’s just a prideful creature. No patience. If he’d waited a few moments, I’d have agreed.” 

Humming, you don’t tell him that he’s definitely the one who wound himself up like this. Taehyun had made it clear multiple times that Beomgyu needed to stop playing around.  

Taehyun’s voice comes from the doorway, cutting into the conversation with its matter-of-factness. “Speaking bad on my name while I’m away, kelpie? Should I amend your list of commands to include watch your mouth?” His tone is bare and humorless. 

Beomgyu bristles beside you, about to rebut him before you spy the weapon at Taehyun’s hip and interrupt before they can come to verbal blows. “Where are you going?” 

Taehyun rips his icy gaze from Beomgyu to you. “To Court,” he answers, plain and as if it were obvious. 

Furrowing your brows, you say, “Court? Why didn’t you tell me we’re going? I don’t want to get ready in a rush.” Your mind turns. You weren’t even sure what you’d be doing now that you’re no longer here as spies. There’s no need to infiltrate Court, now. Would you just be attending as revelers? Not to mention that Yeonjun no doubt has no clue that you’re even staying. You hadn’t seen him since you’d ran to him yesterday morning and had your world thrown for a loop as he revealed his truth. How had so much happened in one day?  

His mouth hardens. “You’re not attending with me,” he says, knuckles turning white over the pommel of his sword. “You’ll stay here with him today.” 

Your heart thrums in your chest; not with fear like it had been doing so much over the span of the last few days, but with anger. “What?” you say, shock straining your voice. “No. I’m getting ready; wait for me, or don’t. I don’t care.” You spin on your heels to do just that, gritting your teeth. He thinks he can tell you what to do? Is that it? You don’t care what he’s done for you, or what power he thinks he has over you because of it. You’d left your life of taking commands behind for a reason. This was supposed to be new beginnings, not just your past life under a new skin. 

He catches your upper arm frantically. Whipping your head to him, you rip yourself away from him and back off. “I said, no,” you grit out, lips twitching into a heavily emotional scowl. It’s not just that he’s telling you to stay back today: you know that what he’s doing is much bigger than that. It sends memories of a life in a seamstress’ cottage flooding back. You struggle to keep your head afloat, to keep yourself from drowning in it, but they’re old and deep wounds. 

“Oh, look at that,” Beomgyu croons. “You are just like him. Except, your father was a general, so at least he had some reason to believe that folk would obey him. You? Not so much.” 

Taehyun’s head snaps to him. He barks a command. “Leave.” 

His eyes flash and he reels against it, but Beomgyu’s body moves against his own will. There’s a spark of ravenous hate smeared across his lips and in the glare he gives Taehyun as he leaves. 

“So, you’re just going to hand out commands and expect them to be followed now, huh? Because you’re suddenly just... taking up this role as Lord? Well, you’re not my Lord. You’re not his, either.” 

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Stop that.” 

Laughing a bitter laugh, you spit, “Stop what? Oh, I’m sorry. I should just obey you like a good human does, huh? ‘Cause that’s what we’re for, right? My bad, I’ll get a head start on working around the estate—what would you like for dinner, my lord? Or, do you need me to press your clothes? Go ahead and place your glamour over me, so at least then I won’t have to serve you consciously.” Your words are angry, but you choke toward the end around the lump of emotion in the back of your throat. 

He takes both your arms into his hands, his brow furrowed hard. “Stop it,” he snarls. “Stop it, damn it. Don’t do that. You’re not a servant here. Don’t you try to cry to me, I expect better than this from you. That’s not it at all.” 

You shove back on his chest, putting some distance between you. “I’m not crying,” you say. “And, so what if I was? There’s nothing wrong with it. Really, I think it’d do you a little good to cry some time.” 

“It’s weak,” he says. “Pitying yourself just ends up making you into a fool. If you just sit around and wallow, you’ll stay where you are. The only thing you can do is act.”  

That sounds about right coming from his lips. “Is that what your father taught you?” you ask. “Well, he was wrong. You can cry and try and take care of things at the same time. Crying is not the weaker emotion.” 

“I’m just asking you to stay back today,” he says. 

“Why?” you say, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “Tell me why? It’s not like we’re spying around or have some sort of mission to keep secret. Why can’t I just go enjoy it like that for once?” 

“Can you just do this for me?” Taehyun says, jaw tight. “I just need you to stay.” 

You’ve become sick of him not telling you things. Being in the dark never feels good, but it especially feels like shaky ground now. If he thinks you’ll be attacked, so what? You’re the one who wanted to stay here. Let you come. You’re better off being attacked as a group of three than he would be by himself, no? 

You decide to lean into his own concerns to appeal. “What if they’re waiting for you? Wouldn’t it be better that Beomgyu and I are there? Isn’t that why you did that whole thing yesterday?” 

He shakes his head. “If they are, then it’ll be easier for me to slip out if it’s just me.” 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you determine by the solemn lines to his face that he’s not going to give. “Fine,” you say. “I’ll stay here today. If it’s so necessary, I’ll stay here. Do you want me to stay inside the estate, too? Could I go see Yeonjun?” 

“I’d prefer that you stay here,” he says, slow and measured and veiling tension. 

You shake your head, pairing it with a tired laugh. “Yeah, right, I forgot. He’s a threat too. Well, you have fun then.” Turning and departing from the kitchens, you leave behind your bread and dates. So much for lunch. 

❆

Reaffirming Taehyun’s ability to lie, it was not just that one day. The next day, Taehyun slipped out for Court, sword on hip and pleading with you to stay in the estate on the terms that he believes they still might have an attack planned for you. It turned into a week that you were cooped up in the estate, and then two. The same walls you’d once looked at in wonder for their beauty became the ones you stared at mindlessly during the most boring of hours. 

You spend most of your time listening to Beomgyu drone on and on about the ways he’d tricked faeries and humans. He’s quite odd, but it’s not like you can blame him for it—most of the folk are odd to you, and he’s an ancient beast among them. You feel like that warrants a spunky personality like his. He’s nice company, anyway. Such a long life lends you an impressive wealth of stories. 

You can’t help but think about Yeonjun. He’s got to have seen Taehyun at Court by now. If there haven’t been any incidents at this point, doesn’t that mean that he doesn’t intend to betray you? The images of him thinking that you’re avoiding him makes you want to slip out to see him. You not sure why you don’t. Maybe the lies that sat between you affect you more than you thought they did. You’re quite the hypocrite, though. You’d kept secrets just as much as he had. 

You miss those stolen nights you two had shared. A knot, queasy and pessimistic, sits in your belly each time you lay in your bed and remember them and tells you that you’ll never see anything like that again. You’d allowed a girlish part of you to blossom beside him—a part of you that could throw caution to the wind and melt into the fun things in life.  

As you rot your days away in that estate that has become more like a dungeon than an estate, you allow yourself to miss him only a little. Once it begins transforming into a certain impending doom about how you’d thought that staying here would be everything you’d ever wanted, you find something else to do. If you aren’t toiling around by yourself or listening to Beomgyu drone, you’re practicing your combat skills. The times that Taehyun stops in to help you, it ends with you insisting that you’re fine to make appearances in Court by now, or at least see Yeonjun with Beomgyu in attendance. He never agrees. Each time, it’s the same awful excuse: Tensions are worse. He doesn’t know if they’re planning something. When you ask why he demands that he can attend, but you and Beomgyu can’t join: He’s a lord. It’s his duty to attend Court. 

The solstice is nearing, too. You’d looked forward to it, honestly. Hopefully Taehyun will let you attend by then. 

You sit crisscrossed on the hardwood flooring, running your fingers through your hair. Beomgyu is stood a couple feet away, and makes big gestures as he explains the one time he’d been called to attend Court as a solitary faerie. Moments like this have kept you grounded over the weeks. 

“And the stupid crone tried to say that I was wrong for catching him,” he exclaims, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head as if the ancient memory were still as fresh as day one.  

You laugh. “What did you even do to end up there, anyway?” you ask. You can hardly picture Beomgyu in the setting of Court, even more so meeting with The Queen and her council. Moreover, you’re intrigued to know what he’d said to talk himself out of trouble. You’re amazed that he managed to make a sufficient enough case to save his life. 

“They said that I’d been taking too many of their folk—hah! I must eat too, you know? Oh, the pretention! Do they expect me to starve? If a fool lands themselves on my pelt and then in my waters, it’s only natural that they’re eaten. I’m simply freeing them from one more mud-brained fool. The Courts are full of those, too. It’d take me a millennium to eat them all. What are they so worried for, I wonder? They do the very same to their own people.” 

“Aren’t they ridiculous?” you say. Like you, he’d been an outsider in Court. Though you’re sure that it’s just as, if not more, intricate to those well-versed in it, to the ones like you two... It’s odd to see. You had grown used to it in the time you spent there, but you still know what the first day had felt like. Anyway, you hadn’t spent as many days there as you feel you had. All that had happened had bloated that time in your memories. “To be quite honest with you, your kind are all so odd to me. I grew up among you, but still... my instincts are always kinda at odds with my surroundings, you know?” 

Beomgyu considers that for a moment, as if trying to view the fae from a human’s eyes. “Even when we look so similar?” he asks you, grabbing at a lock of his hair and making a round gesture over himself. 

You nod. “Even in this form, you just... I don’t feel like I’m looking into the face of another human. Maybe that’s because I watched you turn to this from a horse, though.” 

“A kelpie,” he corrects. “What gives it away?” 

“Sorry, a kelpie,” you snicker. You look over his face. It’s so close to right, but somewhere in your mind you can decipher that something is not right. Like all of the fae, though, there’s an unspeakable beauty there, beyond explanation. It demands your human attention. Even the most terrifying are beautiful. “Well, for starters, your ears. They’re pointy. All of you have that, and none of us do. And then... I guess”—you narrow your eyes—“your eyes? They’re just different. And your limbs are pretty lanky, too.” 

He frowns as if he’s unable to see it. “You don’t sound so sure,” he says, joining you on the floor. “I’ve had quite some time to look at myself in my life. I don’t think I ever saw any of that when I was in this form...” 

“I’m sure you did,” you say, lips turning up in a playful mock. A water creature no doubt has an eternity to stare into the water at themselves in its rippled reflection. “Did you do a lot of that?” 

Scowling, he huffs. “No. But I’m sure you would, if you looked like this, huh?” 

You roll your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” His face morphs from dismay to careful concentration. Frowning, you look around and ask, “What?” 

“I hear somebody,” he answers, pushing off the floor. 

Your spine tingles, but you search for the logical explanation. “Like... Taehyun?” 

“No... the walk is definitely different.” He strains to listen. “He’s usually pretty quiet. This one... they don’t conceal their footsteps.” 

Neither of you can get to a window to scope anything out before there’s three heavy knocks from the door, the metal knocker ringing. You shoot him a wary look and tilt your head toward the door. You mouth the word, answer? 

He considers for a moment and then nods. Well, he’s the one able to hear their approach. You trust they’re at least not imminent danger. You pull the door open. A breeze of frost comes rushing in as you do, blowing your hair and as jarring as a hit to the face might be. You’ve been cooped up in here for so long you’ve forgotten how bitter the cold here is.  

Behind the door your eyes lock with a pair of inky ones, settled into a pinched and snooty face. “Letters from the palace I have for you, my lady,” she says, her voice mousy. She holds out a stack full of letters to you, all held together by some twine. 

An errand runner. You furrow your brows down at her and accept them. The little hob wrings out her long fingers. “From who?” you ask her.  

She bows her head to you hurriedly. “Oh, from the prince, my lady! He sends these for you!” 

You look down at the stack in your hands, and your heart begins to run amok in your chest. He’d sent to you? You thank her. She scurries off in the snow and you close the door, sharing a look with Beomgyu. 

“The prince?” he says, brows shot up. “Meaning, The King’s son? He’s sent letters for you?” 

Nodding, you hold the stack close to you. Your feet ache to find your quarters and to begin tearing into each one; you’re ravenous for any sort of word from him. Does he hate you? Does he miss you? At least he still thinks of you. You’d worried that he might’ve found another lady of the court to dote on in your absence... 

“Yeah,” you say over your shoulder, more interested in tearing the letters open than explaining to him why the prince would be sending you letters. Curiosity sits in his furrowed brow. You hadn’t exactly prattled on about Yeonjun to him. Had you even mentioned him at all? 

He tags along as you head to your room and plop onto your bed. You don’t tell him to leave you; opening these letters alone... You appreciate his presence in some odd way.  

Unstringing the pile, you pull the first one out and run a thumb over the wax seal that identifies it as definitely from the High Prince—a fine silver dusted over white wax and branded with the image of Yeonjun’s insignia, the fox. It’s uneven and dribbled, clearly sealed by Yeonjun himself with the insignia ring he often wears on his finger. You pry it open and then unfurl the parchment inside. 

𝒟𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝓊 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝒹 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝐶𝑜𝓊𝑟𝑡? 𝑃𝑒𝑟ℎ𝑎𝑝𝓈 𝑤𝑒 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑚𝒾𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝒾𝓈 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒. 𝐼𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒𝓈 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘. 𝑀𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑟𝓈 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝓊.  

𝒯ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝓈 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛.

𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑛𝒿𝑢𝑛

Beomgyu’s gaze burns holes through you as you read this first one. You sigh, pressing your lips into a thin line as you reach for the next one. This one twists a hot knife of guilt into your belly and up into your heart. 

𝐻𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔?   

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙'𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑐��𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝓃𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝐼 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝓈𝑖𝑑𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑠, 𝓎𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝓇 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝐼'𝑚 𝑢𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝓈 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒. 𝐴𝑙𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ, 𝑝𝑒𝑟ℎ𝑎𝑝𝓈 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝓎𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝑎𝑏𝓈𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑤𝑖𝓈𝑒.

𝐼𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝓈𝑒 𝐼 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝒾𝑑𝑒𝓃𝑡𝒾𝑡𝓎? 𝐼𝑠 𝒾𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝓊 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝑢? 

𝐴𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝓊𝑡𝑚𝑜𝓈𝑡 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟: 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡. 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝓊𝑙𝑑 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑. 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝓇𝑒 𝓆𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝒶𝑟𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑒𝓇.   

𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝐼 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑟𝒾𝒹𝑖𝑐𝓊𝑙𝑜𝑢𝓈, 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔. 𝐼 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝒶𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑏𝓇𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝓇𝑡, 𝑟𝒾𝑔ℎ𝑡? 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑡. 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑢𝓈.  

𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑚𝒾𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝓎 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝑠𝑜 𝑒𝒶𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝒾𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝓈𝑡. 𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝓈, 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑖𝑡.

𝒟𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝓇 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝒾𝑡 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝓉 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝓈 𝑚𝑒𝑡, 𝑡𝑜𝑜? 𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑜𝒹𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝒾𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝓈𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝒾𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝓎𝑜𝑢, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝓈𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝓇 𝑏𝑒𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝓎𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝓊𝑟𝓈𝑒?

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝒶𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑒, 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝓉𝑦. 𝐼𝑓 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒, 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝓉 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝑘𝒶𝑦. 

𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑛𝒿𝑢𝑛

“What do they say?” Beomgyu asks, timbred voice whipping you from the words that had settled a quaking ache in your chest.  

You’re not entirely sure how to tell him that they’re desperate letters of the High Prince’s love for you, a worthless human girl that had avoided him on purpose. He probably wouldn't believe you, anyway. Leaving behind your old life, you had pleaded with the sky to make your life something worth note. It seems that it had answered. Fate works in odd ways like that, granting your wishes in the last way you might expect.  

“A lot,” you say, brushing him off. Your voice cracks with it, though,  

Hearing the veiled emotion, he frowns, inching forward to take a peek. “Why are you upset?” he pries, and then gasps as a thought formulates in his head. “Have they called you to be tried by the council?” He considers his own suggestion for a long moment and then shakes his head. “You hardly have gone anywhere enough to cause that degree of trouble, though.”  

You let your face drop into your hands. Is the tremor in your chest from laughter, or from crying? You couldn’t say. Maybe it’s both. 

The kelpie makes an unsure sound, clearing his throat. “I... uh, I jest...” 

Collecting yourself, you say, “No. I’m not being called in for trial.”  

Dried up rose petals come fluttering out with the next letter. The flower of love. 

𝐻𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝓉 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝓇𝑡ℎ? 𝐶𝑜𝓊𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝓈𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑎𝑡 𝓎𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝓈𝑜? 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑐, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝓎 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒𝓈𝑜𝑚𝑒. 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤𝑒'𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒. 𝐻𝑎𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝓎𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝓈𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒?

𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝓈𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝓇𝑒𝑠𝑖𝒹𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝒾𝑠 𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒶𝑡𝑒, 𝐼 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼'𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝓊𝑟𝑒 𝒾𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑙𝑙 𝓇𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝓎𝑜𝑢, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑜, 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼'𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝓎𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔?

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝑚𝑒. 𝐼 𝑏𝑒𝑔. 𝐿𝑒𝑡'𝑠 𝓉𝑎𝑙𝑘. 𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝓈𝑡 𝑤𝒶𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑤𝓇𝑜𝑛𝑔. 

𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑛𝒿𝑢𝑛

Why hadn’t you at least gone and told him that you’ve stayed? How had you allowed yourself to feel fear when you think of him? You don’t deserve his love. You don’t even know if you deserve love at all. All it would’ve taken was one night of slipping out. He deserved to know that you’re okay. You don’t remember being this selfish. When had it happened? Maybe selfish is what becomes of you when you’ve wasted a lifetime expected to serve others before yourself and then are granted the freedom to consider yourself first. You don’t want to be selfish, though.  

The one you pull open now is more raw. Hurt. The paper, scrawled in writing that becomes less elegant and more frenzied as you read down it, crumples in your hand. 

𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝐼'𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝒶𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑙𝓎 𝑓𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒'𝑣𝑒 𝓈ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑, 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝓊. 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝒶𝑟𝑚𝓈. 𝒯ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝓇 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑡.   

𝐷𝑜 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝓈𝑎𝑦 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝓇𝑒?   

𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝓊, 𝑑𝒶𝓇𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑚𝒶𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝓈𝑖𝑐𝑘  

𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑛𝒿𝑢𝑛

You stuff the letters back in their envelopes and shove them into a box in your wardrobe. If you don’t, you’ll read them over until you’re ill. Once over was enough for you. 

❆

“The Lord would have my pelt if I let you leave,” Beomgyu, crossing his arms firmly over his chest, says. “Let alone by yourself.” Realizing that his words insinuate that Taehyun holds any true power over him, he backtracks. “If it weren’t for the harness, I’d be unconcerned with his anger, but... Of course, you know, I’m obligated by my imposition to his word, so...” 

Tugging your boots on, you say, “So, tell him I commanded you to stay. You’ll be fine.”  

You had waited for Taehyun to leave for Court, anyway. You have hours of the night to sly-foot your way around him. 

You’d moped around for a few more days, your gut heavy with stones each time you remember Yeonjun’s letters. Stuffing them into a box, no matter how deep into the corner of your wardrobe, still could not wipe those words from your mind. You’d turned them over and over until you couldn’t handle imagining him writing those letters with a hopeful heart any longer.  

The solstice is only a few days away now, too. You’d been bound to the estate for weeks. Although you’re unsure what Taehyun’s real intentions are in boarding you in, you can no longer even care if leaving will end up getting you attacked. You’ve become a bird with clipped wings.  

Even if your wings are out of order, you’ll walk your way to your freedom. Hell, you’d crawl there. It just so happens that Yeonjun’s doorway feels like freedom in this moment.  

Like he’d always said, the doors remain unbarred. You don’t even have to use the metal knocker; you just push through the doors of swirling white engravements. Just as if nothing had changed. He’d been waiting for you. 

Instead of Yeonjun in his quarters, you find a brownie diligently working on doing up Yeonjun’s bedding. When she turns to you, her hands continue their efforts. 

“The prince is not here right now, dear,” she says, snout twitching. Round eyes recognize you before you can introduce yourself. “He’s only just made for Court, though. You should catch him quite quickly, if you mean to.” 

It seems he hasn’t given up searching for you in Court, either. You offer her your gratitude and slip out from his room. Picking up the hems of your dress, you race to catch Yeonjun before he’s arrived at Court. Once he does, things get more sticky—if Taehyun spots you... Pushing down the anxiety that bubbles up at the thought, you cross your fingers. Let luck be on your side.  

Your Court dress, though heavy, feels nice on your skin. Although you often look down on court goers for their pompousness, you can’t deny how good it feels to fit in. That’s perhaps the reason you cling to Court the way you do; you’re beyond desperate for belonging. 

On the plush, snow-dusted bits of the forest’s floor, you spot a set of footsteps. They’re quickly being filled with the flurries. You clasp your hands in an overwhelming bout of gratitude—luck had listened, this time. Those tracks are as fresh as can be. You double your pace. 

Around a bend, you’re overjoyed to see his figure walking there. Finally hearing you coming over the roar of snowfall, he spins. His face pinches and then drops as he recognizes you. 

“You... You came?” he says. Disbelief flips his lips into a frown. “You got my letters?” 

“I did,” you answer, catching your breath. “I’m so sorry.” 

A few feet float between you, the space not yet closed but so magnetic. His cheeks are tinged pink with the cold. Yours must be too.  

“I’d thought you left. I thought I’d never see you again.” 

Your chest caves in a little at the hurt in his voice and the way it clashes with the longing in his eyes. He wants to be angry; he wants to yell at you. He can’t do either when he’s just thankful to see your face. You had missed his just as much. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. “It shouldn’t have happened.” 

Yeonjun approaches you and takes your face into his hands. His fingers are ice on your skin. He swallows in your face, soft black eyes darting from your eyes to your lips and around the rest of it; just like he’d begged you to let him do in his letters. 

“Why?” Yeonjun asks you, brushing your hair back with his fingers like he’s just testing the feel of it. 

You don’t know how to answer him. You could tell him a lot of things: Taehyun told me to stay away. He had told me that you’d hurt me. I’d started to believe him. I became scared of you. We had lied to each other. None of them feel adequate in this moment, so you shake your head. 

His eyes harden to a degree as you don’t answer. “Why wouldn’t you come talk to me, pretty?” he urges. “If something was wrong, why couldn’t you come to me? We can’t leave things broken. I sent you weeks of letters. Weeks.” 

Weeks? You’d only seen four.  

“Finally, I got smart enough to send them when he’s at Court. And then you show up here. Tell me, how am I to think that you’re okay? When he won’t even let you speak with me?” 

You blink once. Twice. Taehyun had been intercepting letters. A pit of anger flares in your belly. Whatever this protecting thing he’s doing really is, you’re sick of it. Since when had he become your keeper? He’d demanded that Yeonjun was trying to do just that, but here he is, and you have no clue why he’s doing it. 

“I didn’t know you’d sent letters until yesterday,” you tell him. “I should’ve come and seen you.” 

Running his thumb over your cheek, he murmurs, “You’re not going back there. Please, tell me you’ll stay with me. If you’re to stay here in the north forever, let it be with me. We can’t slip around like this forever.” 

Shaking your head in his hands, you pull back. You can’t decipher the dread that washes over you at his suggestion once again. Your heart is wary with the need to do just that—to not return to the estate where you’d become some sort of prisoner. Something washes over you and tells you that it won’t go the way you’d wanted, just as most things in your life hadn’t. 

Seeing the way you retract, Yeonjun becomes more desperate. “Please,” he says, hands finding your shoulders to hold you as if you’ll leave him there.  

“We’ll figure it out,” you say. “Just give me a few days to think about it, okay?” 

His face stays drawn as if he wants to argue it, but he relents. Taking your frozen hands into his own and wrapping them up in attempts to warm them, he says, “Okay. Okay, let’s get away from this blizzard, then. I’ll wait for you, love.” 

Your chest sizzles. The cold isn’t so bad, today. In a way, you’d missed it. You nod.  

Yeonjun brings you to his chambers and urges you to settle into a plush seat. You run your hands over the embroidered whorls of thread on the cushions as you watch him rummage through a chest. “What are you looking for?” you ask him, drinking in his figure. He’d switched his Court shirts for some more comfortable wear, but even in those he looks princely. He’s so pretty. Your heart flutters as he fishes out what he’d been searching for and turns to you with a smile. He settles beside you carrying a leatherbound book and a miniature wood sculpture of a girl. 

“These,” he says, setting them down on the cushion between you.  

You pick up the wood thing, looking over its painted pink cheeks and feeling the carvings that make its face. It’s fitted with a dress; one unlike any you’d ever seen. Your brow furrows. “What’s this thing?” you ask. 

“It’s called a doll,” he says explains. You feel his eyes on you, watching your reaction, not on the thing in your hands. “Human girls carry them around to play with. They change the dresses and stuff. They even make things for them to hold, but... I couldn’t get ahold of any of those.”  

Heart stuttering, you look at the wood-carved thing. “Human girls?” you ask, imagining a life where you too could have worried only about what dress your toy would wear. You revere the resilience your younger self had to have. At least you didn’t know any better; you didn’t know how you could’ve had it. That ignorance saved you. The painted eyes of the doll stare back at you. 

“Kinda cute, huh?” he says, smiling and scooting closer to fiddle with the thing’s hair. “They even do their hair up all pretty.” Looking back up to you, he says, “It’s a shame that no human who has ever grown up here knows of things like these. Simple joys.” 

You nod, a little choked up. “Yeah. I wish I had. It would have been nice to have something like this as a girl.”  

He tucks some hair behind your ear to get a better look at your face from the side. “How did you ever end up being a spy?” 

Tearing your gaze from the doll to meet his, you find a sadness there despite you not even having told him yet. It’s as if he knows it’ll hurt him already. You fiddle with the little doll’s dress as you recount. “I was a servant to a seamstress,” you start. “A royal seamstress, too. She was favored well by the gentry. She brought in hordes of clients and made dresses and Court clothes for them—but, really, her work mostly ended at being there to hear what they’d want and inlaying the dresses with her magic when they’d ask for it. The rest was my work. Taking their measurements, making their dresses... I worked her shop as soon as I became able to.” Memories of cruel and wicked faces that snickered at your expense or those who found it entertainment to scare you come back, as fresh as ever. Those memories never leave you; the ones so early on that they’d calcified into permanent parts of your personality. That terrified little girl will always be somewhere in your mind. She surfaces quite a lot, these days.  

“There was this one time...” you say, trailing off to trudge up a more awful memory. “A Lady had come in to have a dress made. She brought a guard along with her. He was this massive troll with grey skin like a toad.” You’d recall his details without any trouble for the rest of your life, you think. “I’d ran off to grab some fabric for the Lady, and he followed,” you say, voice wavering just how your little heart had wavered as you had turned around from the bolts of fabric to see the goblin stood there. “He yanked me around by my hair until I sobbed, and then he had me get on the floor and beg him to let me live.” You know now that of course he wasn’t going to kill you—he wouldn’t want problems with Nut-hatch—but you hadn’t known it then. You thought you were dead. “When he had enough of his fun, he let me go. When the other two saw how hysterical I was, all I got was being asked why I’d left them waiting so long.”  

Yeonjun asks, voice soft and tender, “The seamstress allowed that?” His eyes are heavy with a mixture of emotions. You see sadness and anger there, but also something a bit more. 

“Nut-hatch?” you say. “Of course.” They’d known what he was doing in there, of course. Even a human could have heard it. As long as you served your purpose, the folk could not care less. 

He looks taken aback at that, recognition turning his brows up. “Nut-hatch? You worked for Nut-hatch?” he asks. 

Nodding, you hum. You had no doubt he’d know her name. Her work was well-renowned in his father’s court and beyond. “I did.” 

His eyes rake over you for a long few beats before he turns your face up. “Their names?” he asks. 

“Huh?” 

“The goblin and the Lady. What are their names?” 

You try to tug at the threads of that old memory. “I don’t remember,” you say. Much of it is fresh, but you hadn’t committed their names to memory. Inconsequential in the grand scheme of it. “It’s okay. It’s passed now.” 

He doesn’t look very convinced, mind wheeling behind his eyes. You don’t want to stay on this memory for too long. Pushing it back into the dusty corner where it stays, you continue explaining. “I accepted that as my life for a long time, but... At some point, I just wanted more. I imagined all the ways I could find a new life as a human here. There are so many other things I’d preferred, but the only one I could manage was that. Even that, I was wrong about. I’m not really made for that, you know?” You lighten your tone in hopes that it’ll make your chest feel lighter as well.  

He listens intently and then leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. Pulling you into his chest and keeping you notched under his chin, he says, his voice smooth to your ears, “I’m so happy you’re here now, pretty.” 

Letting out the weight in your lungs in a long, meaningful sigh, you melt into his touch. It’s difficult not to when his body is so warm against yours. You revel in it for some time, just letting him smooth over your hair and rub your back. You try your best not to let any old, sad emotions pour out through your eyes; this is a happy moment. You’ve made it. Perhaps things had been harder than you imagined they’d be, but you knew it’d be a long journey when you escaped that sewing cottage anyway. 

Peppering a few last kisses to the top of your head, he releases you to pick up the book he had also grabbed from that chest. On the front it reads: Pride & Prejudice.  

“A book?” you say, looking over the brown leather and gold printing. It’s an unfamiliar name to you, but you never read much anyway.  

He nods and pries it open. The spine crackles with age. “It’s also from the human world.” Thumbing through the pages, he adds, “It’s a story. I read it often, it’s quite a nice one. I want to give it to you so that you can read it too; it’s a beautiful love story.” 

You lean in to take a look at the words, too perfect to be handwritten. “Where do you get all this stuff?” you say. It reminds you of he’d brought you to that market for human goods. He seems to be interested in things that are human. Perhaps that includes you. Either that or he continues to show you these kinds of things for your sake. 

“I lived in their world for some years,” he says, flipping through the pages. “It’s quite different. Though... I found myself not wanting to leave. When the time came, I brought these back with me to remind me of that time.” 

Lived? Not just visited, but Yeonjun had lived in the human realm? Your heart flurries with a lifetime of wondering what your true home was like. How ironic is it that he knew more of humans than you? That you’re the one asking him questions about your kind? “How long?” you ask first. “And why were you living there?” 

“Just for something my father wanted me to do,” he answers, “Somewhere around a decade, I believe.” 

He’d spent ten years there. Multiple things click into place—no wonder he’s so able to understand your human emotions. No wonder it feels as though you’ve been seen to a different degree by him than you’d ever known before. He’d spent years with your kind. “What is it like?” you say, not sure where to begin with your questions. 

He smiles fondly. “You wouldn’t even be able to believe me, pretty. You’ll just have to see it.” 

See it. “You’d take me there?” you say.  

“Of course,” Yeonjun says, frowning. He takes one of your hands into his, pressing a kiss to it. “You deserve to see it.” He presses another kiss to your skin, now at your wrist. The hair on your skin raises at the contact. His eyes find yours as he begins a slow ascent of kisses up your arm. Each is warm and sends your spine blazing. Once he reaches your shoulder, he slows down, leaving a long moment between kisses. He continues this pace—one that both makes you wish he’d slow down and that he’d hurry and quell your want—right up the juncture of your neck and up the column, too. His controlled breaths puff out like fire on your skin where his mouth lingers. You let your head back to help his path up. He places one final kiss at your jawline before his lips land on yours, drunken and in no rush at all.  

You can’t help the visceral urge to run your hands over his soft skin, to check if the warmth there was real or if you’d manifested it in your longing. Yeonjun breaks this lethargic kiss just to laugh, but he’s quick to recapture your lips. He meets your hand and brings it under his silken shirt, guiding you up the soft planes of his abdomen. 

Pushing you back, he whispers into your mouth, “I missed you so much, pretty.” 

You rememorize the gentle muscles of his stomach beneath your palm. “It was only so many days,” you tease, “you’re just horny.” 

He lets go of your hand to begin slipping down your dress from the shoulders. “Yeah?” he hums, gobbling up each inch of skin that he reveals. “I suppose I am. It’s a gift to be able to love you in this way.” Once the fabric is clear of your hips and he’s tugging it down your legs, his face turns sly. He studies your wettened core. “I think you missed me too, though, love.” 

You drag your bottom lip into your teeth. You had. Your chest thumps rhythmically in your chest, syncing like symphony with the throb between your thighs. 

Blood sings in your veins when he places his palm right on the boundary between your lower belly and your cunt. Your stomach soars, too, so excited by his touch so near where your body craves it. He runs it up, feeling the curves of your body, up to your breast. You expect him to stop and pay attention to your chest, but he presses his hand down right over your heart and feels its beating against his palm. His eyes flutter to a shut, and he leaves his hand there for a few moments, relishing in it.  

“What other purer form of love can I show you?” he says, tapping on your hip. “On your hands and knees, baby.” 

You flip, your limbs a bit clumsy in anticipation. Once you’ve found your way there, he dances his fingertips on the small of your spine. 

“Did you think of my touches while we were apart?” 

“Mhm,” you hum. Especially on the nights when the estate seemed the emptiest. Some nights, your fingers were just not enough to save you, and you’d contemplate making a big escape to find him.  

“Well, I shouldn’t make you wait too much longer then, huh?” he coos, running that hand down to ghost touches over your slit. Though minimal, you jolt. You’d been so ravenous for this. He’d worked his shirt off so that when he leans forward to meld his chest to your back, it’s his skin that touches yours, not fabric. His hand stays ghosting touches that leave you softly gasping. 

He teasingly pinches your clit, laughing in your hair at the sharp hiss it draws from you. “So reactive,” Yeonjun muses. His fingers find their way to your hole. He dips the middle two in. “Just like the first time we made love like this. Your lovely face is burned into my mind, pretty. You have such hungry eyes.” As he pushes his fingers in, he uses his free hand to tilt your face against the cushion so that he can better see your eyes. 

You sigh, shuddering and breathy, as he begins to curl his fingers. It only takes him a few curls to rediscover that spot that has sparks flying behind your eyes. 

“There?” he asks, chin on your shoulder. “That feel good, darling?” 

Your muscles tremble at their own accord, rendering your huffs trembled as well. “Yes,” you answer. Each meaningful curl hits its mark, knees unsteady pillars that dig into the cushions. “So—so good. Please don’t stop.”  

He maintains a sickening pace—your muscles twitch around his giving fingers, just enough so that your entire body buzzes and your stomach twists, but not enough to send you shaking yet. You collapse down from your elbows, chest in the cushions. He brushes back the hair that obscures your face with the movement, adamant to see your face.  

He eggs you on by curling deeper; faster. Your answering groan is shaky and tense—you can’t get enough of the knot he curates in your belly, but at the same time, it’s daunting. He sits back, but his fingers don’t falter. His free hand explores, feeling your body up for all the time he couldn’t.  

Stomach taut and brimming on your peak, you suck in a breath. Your orgasm sits so close, running a line of electricity from between your legs up to your spine, raising goosebumps on your skin.  

Your eyes fly open, mouth ready to scold, as Yeonjun pulls his fingers from you. Your chest bubbles up with frustration, your orgasm drifting off to somewhere else. “Why?” you ask, cheeks burning. It slips and slips away from you, hole twitching around nothing as if seeking out just enough stimulus to bring it crashing back. “I was so close.” 

His hand soothes the loss ever so slightly by circling your cunt, but he does not make the mistake of offering you any touch where you most need it. It only prolongs the float down, keeping you suspended. You abhor it.  

“Please,” you whine. 

He doesn’t entertain your whines. He only continues to deliver just enough to torment you until he’s sure that you’re not so wound up that you’ll cum the moment he touches you, and then he slides his fingers back in and begins building up a more tense knot with pointed curls. Your insides delight in the return of attention, falling almost instantly back into a brutal climb. Yeonjun doesn’t bother with languid, teasing strokes now. He aims for your ruining. 

You writhe against the cushions. Your heart is a fluttering bird in your chest, trilling at the prospect of your release. It’s so close—so close that you might be able to just touch it. It tastes like honey on your tongue, painting your words sweet. “Love you,” you tell him. “Love you so much.” 

Yeonjun rewards your sweetness with his free hand on your throbbing clit, sending your hands gripping at the cushions. You wiggle your hips helplessly in search of just the right amount of friction that it’ll finally give you want you’ve been wanting. “Yes,” you mewl. “Yes, so close—” 

“Wait, baby,” he commands from behind you. “It’ll feel so much better. I promise. Hold it back.” 

He reins in his touches once again, not stopping like last time. It’s not enough to put a stop to the orgasm rippling right under your skin, right at the edge of ripping through you. You can’t hold it back; it’s right there. 

“No,” he says, once again ripping his touch from you. It doesn’t stop anything—you go rigid just before it crashes over you, and then you’re shaking without his hands even on you. You cum with a vengeance—body reclaiming twofold what he had denied you.  

“Holy shit.” Yeonjun groans watching you come unraveled without his help. “So riled up that you’re cumming by yourself, pretty,” he says, running a hand around to feel your belly muscles twitching and the way they roll along with the twitches of your hips. He eggs on your orgasm with gentle touches at your clit, sending you jolting, until you’re a panting mess and he can tell that you’ve had enough. 

You attempt to push yourself off your chest, but he gently guides you back down with a palm against your back. “Stay there, pretty. You can handle a little more, right? You did so well, I know you can. Let me make love to you, darling.” 

The cushions are awfully warm against your skin and you’re still dealing with the waves of pleasure that drift up from your cunt, but you nod your head for him. “’Kay,” you say. 

The rustling behind you tells of how he’s slipping out of the rest of his attire. You lay boneless as he does, focusing on the waves running down your thighs. It’s ecstasy in its purest form. It floats through your veins, addling any consciousness and breaking you down into what you are at your core. 

The familiar prod at your entrance jolts you back to life. As he presses in, he presses a hand to your flushed cheek. It’s a welcome temperature difference—you feel set ablaze in some sort of languid flame, one that takes its time to consume you. He laughs softly. “You’re burning up,” he says as he bottoms out, as if the feeling of him filling you up isn’t rendering you jittery in anticipation. “Ready for me, pretty?” he teases, taking your hips into his hands. “I need you to make those pretty sounds for me. I want to know that they’re just as sweet as I remember them.” He punctuates his sentence with deep rolls of his hips, aiming where he knows will have you singing. 

You’re helpless to the chorus of ‘Oh's and ‘Yes’s that he draws from you, the smacking of his hips and your sweet moans much too loud for you. You dread the thought of his servants hearing you and push your face into the cushions, muffling the array of sounds that bubble over. It’s all you can do—you could hardly contain your sounds. 

Your scalp strains as he tugs your head back, tugging your face from the cushion. “None of that, love. I waited too long for that. Don’t hide your pretty voice.”  

You shake your head. “Too loud,” you pant. “They’re gonna hear.” 

“I don’t care who hears you. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel, or I’m going to stop. Do you want me to stop?” His fingers cling to your soft hips, betraying how much this is affecting him. You know that he hardly wants to stop. 

You’re turned to mush, though. In this moment, being heard feels nowhere near as awful as Yeonjun ceasing those dizzying thrusts. You shake your head, scalp aching against the movement. “No,” you say, breathless.  

“That’s what I thought,” Yeonjun taunts, letting your cheek drop back into the fabric. “Let them hear our love. Let them hear how real it is, darling. Louder.”  

You tentatively let your sounds out into the thick air, but he decides that it’s not enough for him. Taking his hand off your hip to brace himself on the seat’s plush armrest, he doubles down his thrusts, feverish and desperate to guide you both to a beautifully explosive end. Your mouth drops open, unfiltered words and sounds spilling out from your chest as you grab at the cushions for help. With the hand that he doesn’t use to deliver those wild thrusts, he encases your hand in his own, threading his fingers between yours.  

For a few more incandescent moments, Yeonjun’s room only consists of your unabashed cries, his alternating grunts and whines, the rhythmic and hollow smacks of his hips to your skin, and the musk of your passion. Frantic bodies dance against each other, skin against skin in the purest way. Your thighs tremble pathetically, his cock brushing against your sweet spot until you squeeze your eyes shut and ride out the quivering of your cunt around him. You squeeze his hand as you shake. 

“Yes,” his pretty voice whines, “Just like that.”  

Picking up his pace, he chases to join you in your orgasm. He pants behind you, desperately fucking into you until his hips stutter and he stills, falling into your shoulder to deliver needy rolls and shooting warm spurts of his release into you.  

You two stay like this for some unhurried moments. You focus on his heartbeat; feeling it thudding against your back reminds you that he is real, and he is love. You hold his hand in yours a little tighter. 

❆

“I doubt that this will go exactly as you believe it will,” Beomgyu says, watching you do your hair up. Your eyes meet his in the vanity’s mirror.  

Arms burning as your hold them over your head, your words come out clipped with the ache. “It worked yesterday, didn’t it?” you say. You push a filigree comb into your hair to secure it up. “I got back hours before he did.” 

“I’m not saying that Taehyun is right,” he says, “but I think that it would do us both a favor if you practice a bit more precaution.” 

“What, are you afraid of Taehyun?” you ask, raising your brows at him in the reflection.  

Your taunt hits its mark, Beomgyu shifting in your bed and scowling. “Of Taehyun, never,” he parries, “of the fact that he could ask me to do anything and I’d do it, yes.” He shakes out his lightly matted tresses, a habit you’ve noticed over the passing weeks. “I played a little too closely to the fire with him once, and it landed me like this: no longer the owner of my being. I’d sooner chew off my own fingers than become his obedient dog, but I believe you also know that it’s best to soar low with this, no? Are we not together in this?” 

You press your lips into a thin line. In a way, you’d come to an alliance of sorts with Beomgyu. Despite his being a kelpie, the two of you are not so different now. Both confined to these walls, listening to Taehyun when he commands it. You don’t want any of your actions to snap back on Beomgyu, though. With you attending Court today, it’s almost definite that Taehyun will see you. You turn to face him. “Why don’t you join us, then?” you offer. “I’ll tell him myself that I commanded you to come with me. I’m sure he’ll be less upset if I have you there with me.” 

He gives it a thought, his eyes looking as tired and sunken as they always do. “I’m not one for Court,” he says. 

“But I’ll be there,” you plead, unable to help the twitching of smirk on your lips. “If we do it together, it can’t be so bad.” 

He frowns, but you can see that you’ve won. “I grieve for how the forest left me to my own,” Beomgyu grumbles. 

You surge up from your seat, eyes bright. “You’ll go?” you say, giddy to return to the thrill of faerie revelry and also to see the strange kelpie in the center of it. 

Grimacing, he answers, “I will join you.” 

You take his hands into yours and press a cheeky kiss to his forehead. “You’re not so scary as you try to paint yourself,” you tell him, watching as he catches bait. You laugh as he glowers. 

“Don’t push it.” He climbs off your bed. “I’m scarier than you should imagine, girl. I do this for my own reasons.” 

You pull a patronizing frown and nod. “Of course, I know.” 

You don’t have to wait for him to get ready to any capacity; he tells you that he has no intentions of making any impressions, and you’ve seen faeries in far more drastic states of disarray. Many show up for their reveling in just their skin. 

Beomgyu drones on about how he detests the audaciousness of the gentry folk while you make for the hall. The forest around you is as quiet as you remember it being when you’d first met him. It reminds you that, no matter how used you become to him, he is a creature to be feared. The little folk are right to hide away. For you, though, his might is a relief: should Taehyun be right, you’ll be safe. He moves at your beck and call. Though, the thought of forcing the kelpie to carry out your will is an uneasy one that you do not strive to fulfill. 

Once the buzzing of Court comes into earshot, wonderful faerie music along with it, you breathe it in. “First time in... how long since you’ve shown your face here?” 

“Perhaps four-hundred-something years,” he answers, looking over the scene with as much distaste in his face as his voice. “We solitary folk don’t make ourselves known here unless to bow to a crown. I do not bow to any crown.” 

Itching to find your prince, you gesture toward it. He should be fine—Court is supposed to be an insouciant place. “Don’t they host anybody who decides to come? Faerie hospitality, and all that? You’ll be fine.” 

“It’s all hospitality until you step foot from those trees,” he says. “And even hospitality is sometimes betrayed. You know how capricious we can be, I’m sure.”  

You approach the warm lights, but his words remain with you. It beckons you to remember that their minds are fickle and fundamentally different from yours. However you think they may act, they might act in the complete opposite way. You should at least let that guide how you conduct your actions a little bit. 

As you breach the pillars of trees and are finally surrounded once again by their pinched faces and gangly limbs, you search for both Taehyun and Yeonjun. You see neither, and so you make your way to the tables to seek snacks. You scour them for something sweet to chew over as you wait for him to appear. He’d said he’d be coming around this time, right? You surely hadn’t mistaken the time he’d told you? 

Beomgyu speaks from beside you, observing a hag that loiters nearby. “Is he not here?” he asks. 

Shrugging, you say, “He’ll be here soon.”  

You watch the hag inching closer, bent over with age; though, you assume that’s she’s been old for the entirety of her life. Her pointed ears droop from her thin tresses of silver, cuffed with gold.  

Turning from her, you gesture over the cavorting crowds, more frantically chasing their merriments than ever before. The solstice arrives tomorrow; they welcome its presence with their excitement. “This is all for the solstice?” 

He offers you an affirmative nod. “Just some excuse to entertain themselves like this,” he explains, “the solstice will arrive whether they encourage its coming or not. I believe that they just enjoy this debauchery too much.” His hollow eyes rake over the throngs. “Anyway, many of them are just here because it’s the only time that they’ll see Court. Otherwise, only the gentry gather here.” 

“What makes you any different than them?” you ask. “What makes you so averse to offering your allegiance to the High Courts? Would it not be nice to have their protection, and to keep them off your back?” You seek Yeonjun once more in the crowds, but still, he doesn’t appear. “You know, so they don’t call you in for things like eating too much?” 

“I do not surrender my sovereignty to any. Come they to my doorstep and demand that I do, I could not care. I’m content with the way I make my life.”  

His refusal to do just that must be why Taehyun’s father had come to claim his life. You’re sure that it’s also why the coming of the General’s son to steal his autonomy must’ve made him so angry. You don’t blame him.  

Why would The Queen demand fealty from the solitary folk? You’d thought that, like the High King, she’d leave them to their forests. If they’re all as adamant as Beomgyu, it seems like a lost cause. 

“Well,” you say, “I’m glad that—” 

A gnarled hand, fingers knobbed against your skin and skin about as soft as tree bark, tugs your arm. You spin to find who owns it.  

The hag’s eyes remind you of Beomgyu’s, piercing and dull with the weight of a long life. Though, hers are much more unsightly than his mud-brown ones, saggy eyelids drooping over a pair of eyes with ink-black where the whites of her eyes should be. She pulls you toward her by your skirts.  

You tug yourself back, pinching your brows. “Who are you?” 

She points her clawed, grey hand out at you, bangles of gold and chunky beads jingling as she does. “You, girl,” the hag says, urgent. Her voice is harsh and it crackles as she speaks. She reaches inside of her furry robes and produces a wood trinket from it. In her palm that she shoves at you lays a bit of wood carved into the shape of a wolf, painted in black. Its shaggy black fur reminds you of the kind Taehyun would sometimes wear over his shoulder.  

“I don’t need that,” you say, rejecting her hand. Nothing in faerie comes for free—the hag just sees a human girl that she can offer free things to in hopes that you’ll know no better and take. Then, you’d be in her debt, and she’d demand something from you. You do know better, though. 

“Oh,” she says, shaking her head as she draws out the word. “You do, girl. Take it, take it. You need it, I know it. Take it, I won’t hold it to you, girl, just have it.” Razor teeth appear behind her curled lips. “It is dormant with me. But, in your hands... Take it.” She shakes her jousted hand out at you each time she demands that you take it. “It offers you protection. It would do no good in my possession. It beckons me to give it to you, its pleas are so loud—loud, loud, loud! Take it off my hand, won’t you?” 

Her urging unsettles you, but so do her words. You assume that it’s inlaid with some sort of protective enchantment. Why would you need protection? Although, she could also just be fooling you. She could be holding a perfectly plain hunk of carved wood in her palm for all you know. You shoot a look at Beomgyu. If she were any trouble, he’d tell you. 

He looks about as lost as you do, shrugging. 

“Oh, sakes!” the hag grumbles, clutching her robes to her body. She takes Beomgyu’s hands and places the thing there. “There. I have no reasons to be here fooling humans. Useless debts, what could you give me? Nothing I need.” She points a sturdy, twiggy finger at you. “Keep it on you, girl, else it won’t do its work.” 

With those final ill-boding words, the hag hobbles off, her curved back disappearing between the gaps in the crowd. 

“Here,” Beomgyu says, regarding the trinket with his observation. “That hag really wanted this to be yours, so I think it ought to be in your hands.” He tries pushing it off to you. 

Laughing, you don’t reach out to take it, darting his hand with your whole body. You hang your hands in the air. “I’m not taking that thing,” you say. “She handed it to you, so I really think it ought to be in your hands.” 

He deadpans. “I’ve just been collecting myself a heap of debts, haven’t I?” He closes it into his fist for his lack of pockets. “What’s this one to add?” 

“Does it... feel like it has anything bad on it?” you ask, remembering how he’d identified your geas. “Like a curse, or a bad enchantment, or something?” 

Shaking his head, he says, “No. I feel it does have a protective purpose, but the magic there is... odd. Hard for me to decipher. Probably that hag’s.”  

You purse your lips, nodding. Regardless, whatever protection that thing might have offered you, you’ll be fine without it. 

Shaking off the odd interaction, you resume perusing the snack platters in your wait. You skip over glazed pinecones. Those would be terrible on your human stomach and teeth. You can only imagine how they’d jab at your gums. You opt for a helping of braised fiddlehead ferns. Chewing on the furled thing, you entertain yourself with the revelers. Littler folk dart in and out of legs. Long-limbed gentryfolk with flowers in their hair spin with interlocked hands at the center of the clamor. Sharp-eyed faeries with even sharper mouths speak in clusters, no doubt scheming. In all its oddness, you’d missed it.  

 A silk-smooth voice steals your attention. “A kelpie?” Yeonjun says, regarding Beomgyu beside you. “Now, how did you manage to befriend a kelpie? Even better, how did you drag it here?” 

Your chest lights up. “Long story,” you say, brushing his curiosity off. “What took you so long?”  

He’s dressed in his Courtly best—cuffs made of ruffle and an array of rings decorating his fingers. They catch light as he brings his hand up to run a hand along the expanse of your collarbone. He hesitates to answer for a split second. “I ran into Kai on my way,” he explains. “He’s performing here today and for tomorrow's solstice.” 

Accepting his answer, you go to tell Beomgyu that you’re going off, but he’s not even there as you turn. He must’ve wandered off as Yeonjun had arrived. 

“Want to join them?” he asks, tilting his head toward the dancing bodies. Soft black strands drift over his eyes.  

Shaking your head, you offer him some of the sweets you’d been eyeing, knowing that he’s got a knack for sweets. “Not today. I think I want to remember all of tonight, and, well...” Memories of the way you’d danced uncontrollably until it’d fade to black lick at your mind. You want to revel in your return to normalcy fully, not with a buzzing mind. You can’t deny the allure of that tingling in your bones as you hear the faerie music, though. It curls a wild finger at you, beckoning. 

An uncomfortable look passes through his eyes, gone as fast as it had come. “All right, darling,” he hums, accepting the sweets. “Does the Lord know you’re here?” 

Lips tugging into a faint frown, you say, “Not yet, I think.” The quick expression doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Unlike the ice the Taehyun offers you, Yeonjun wears his feelings all over himself. It’s just one way that they are fundamentally different. “Is something wrong?” 

Yeonjun looks taken aback at your asking. “I’m doing just fine,” he says. “Why do you ask?” 

He does not say nothing wrong. You know it is because he cannot lie. You look him over. What had happened? And, why is he averse to telling you the truth? “Just thought you looked a bit upset.” You shrug. “Did you want to dance?” 

His nose crinkles with a laugh. “No, pretty. I’d be in your presence doing nothing and still be content.” He takes your hands into his, the metal on his fingers biting cold against your skin. “How about we go listen to Kai play?” 

He leads you to where the musicians work at concocting their works, claiming a chalice of some drink from a table on the way. Kai, of course, stands away from the rest, back to a tree while his fingers dance on the strings. You look around for Taehyun from here, but still, you don’t see his face. 

Yeonjun holds the chalice’s neck between his middle two fingers, sipping from it. “It’s nice to know that even as this season ends, I won’t be forced to go back there.” 

His pretty lips wrap over the edge of the chalice as he drinks from it. “Won’t your father know something is up when you don’t return?” 

Nodding slowly, he grimaces. “I suppose that time has finally come.” 

You squeeze his hand in yours. “We both sacrificed things to be here, huh?” you say. You don’t know a lot of what Yeonjun’s life back in his home court was like, but you know that it would be hard to revolt against your own family for anybody. Even for the prince of Faerie. 

He captures your eyes, his soft brown ones making crescents with his gentle smile. “We did,” he muses. 

“Remember our first night in Court?” you say. You’d been so uneasy, searching for a place to fit in. Then, from the crowds of overwhelming faces, he’d appeared, all charm and welcoming smiles. How couldn’t you have let your heart fall? 

Another flash of disconcertment, his smile faltering. He hides it behind another sip of his drink. Swallowing, he nods, laughing off-kilter. “I do. I think watching you dance that time was the best thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Odd, but you don’t push the issue. If he says that he’s fine, it must just be something to little effect. “What made you come up to me that night?” you say, remembering how confused you’d been when such a pretty gentry boy had taken interest in you. You’d agonized over why he’d done so for long, and sometimes you still, but you’ve made some peace with it by now.  

His lips are tight. “I... It’s hard to explain.” 

You accept that answer at face-value and let your head fall into his shoulder while you watch Kai dutifully work at his songmaking. Among those making the music for Court, his contributions stand out as the most enthralling. Faerie music is too elusive for you to decipher why, but perhaps it’s just his lazed passion. “I understand,” you say. His shoulder is tight and less cushy than you expect it to be. Looking up to him, you frown to see how he’s looking down at you, eyes stormy. He looks like he’s sick to his stomach. You go to ask if he’s going to be okay, but he speaks before you can. 

“Pretty, I... I have to tell you something.” He pulls you off of him to look into your eyes. He’s always been so steadfast and sure, but now his gaze wavers. “I’m so sorry.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you. “What?” you say, a tingle in your spine telling you that something isn’t right; that you’re not going to like what he’s going to say. “Yeonjun, you’re making me nervous. Is something wrong?” 

You know it’s awful and you’re not sure why you do it, but for a split second, you inspect the hall for possible attackers. A terrible bout of potent adrenaline makes you want to run or cry. Beomgyu is here, right? 

He swallows hard, face a ghostly pallor. “I can’t keep doing this,” he says, voice trembling. “I need to tell you the truth, it’s... it’s been eating me alive. I can’t look into your sweet face and know...” 

Acid climbs up your throat. Your heart joins it, thick in your throat and choking you. “What? Know what Yeonjun?” you ask, lips trembling. Your skin prickles, hair raising. You may throw up. He looks stricken in place, not answering you. “What?” you demand. 

“I didn’t come up to you for no reason that day.” 

Your heart, still caught in your throat, bursts. It’s a horrifying, bloody affair. “No,” you say, shaking your head. You feel so removed from your body that you can almost envision how your blood-drained face might match his. 

“I knew that you were the spies the moment I saw you. It was....” He sucks in a breath. Your world spins around you as you wait. “I was supposed to determine who the spies were. I was supposed to have them killed, but pretty, I knew I couldn’t do that the moment I saw you. I thought it was just going to be some... some random faerie that I’d...” 

If your world was spinning before, it’s now flipped upside down and inverted. “No,” you repeat, a guttural plea that you know won’t change anything. It’s the only word that your mouth will make for right now, though. 

You’re hurt. You’re scared. You’re angry. You’re frozen. 

Yeonjun grabs for your hands, but you rip yourself away from him, your glaring eyes so at odds with your wobbling lips. “It doesn’t change anything,” he says. “It doesn’t change how I love you now. You know I love you. You know I love you, right? I’m so sorry. I would never hurt you. I did my best to protect you. Please, I never wanted to hurt you,” he rambles, frantically grabbing for your arms as he falls down to his knees before you. 

A few faeries around you gasp, and a blur of their commotion forms around you. The crowned prince of Faerie just went to his knees. Your eyes dart wildly around their guffawing faces, and between a space you spot a familiar face: cold eyes and a cracked mask of indifference. He looks right at you. 

What on earth is going on? How is this life right now? You snap back to Yeonjun in front of you. 

“Please, don’t look at me like that, pretty,” he pleads. “Please.” His voice cracks, eyes frantic. “Slap me. Tell me you hate me for it. But please, don’t look at me like you’re scared of me.” 

Tears scald your cheeks. 

“I know that it’s selfish of me to ask you that; I know, I know it—but please, I can’t handle it, love. I was never going to let anything happen to you, I knew it the moment I saw you. I felt it right here”—he gestures to his beating heart, the one your hand had felt and cherished so only last night—“I knew that no matter how big my ambitions were, they would never be bigger than that.” 

You can’t listen to any more. His words pour out onto your skin, but they all slip off like rain upon a beast’s winter pelt. None can penetrate the ringing in your ears. 

Yeonjun sees how retracted you’ve become. “Pretty, please,” he says, slower and more dire now. “Say something." 

You don’t know what to do. Your feet are rooted fast to the ground, but you know that you have to leave, or else you’ll start creating excuses for him. You know yourself too well to let that happen. 

Picking up your skirts, you manage only a few words to part him with. “Though your kind can’t lie,” you say, “you have been the biggest liar I have ever known. You said you loved me.” 

“I do,” he says, shaking his head, eyes twinkling. “I do.” 

Maybe love is a different thing to a faerie. 

You take off. He calls for you, but it’s muffled by the restlessness of the folk around you and the still-playing music. You dart between openings and bounce off bodies, lights and angry faces a blur in your frenzy. Most folk don’t spare you even a glance; nothing could pull them from their merriment. But others gawk at you like you put on a performance, greedy eyes drinking in any amount of fanfare. Their eyes itch under your skin. Crossing the expanse of the hall has never felt so arduous.  

You’ve become their spectacle. 

Breaking into the cold night air, you don’t run home or collapse to your knees in a sob. You hold your dress hard in your hands, the one he’d gifted you among so many others, its fabric bunching in your fists, and stand there as if frozen staring into the tree line ahead. You don’t move and you don’t think; both would remind you that this is real and that you are a fool. You just allow the bitter air to swaddle your skin. 

You don’t even know if you doubt that he loves you. You don’t even know if he actually never intended to hurt you. Had there been times where all you’d done was look at him with starry eyes, and he’d look at you deciding whether or not to have you killed? 

Why are you even here? There is nothing left for you. Whatever simple joys you thought you’d found, they’re gone. You’re so far away from home, and you’ve nobody to call home. You’d left behind your beginnings of a purpose, and now the only purpose you serve is to rot away in Taehyun’s estate because you demanded that you stay here. 

All that time you’d spent worrying, and still, you walked yourself into this. You’re a joke. And now, you’re fully serving your purpose as one—to be laughed at.

White breaths unfurl into the night air before you, floating off to join the snowflakes and heavy fog. You just watch those fluffy flakes fall for a while. 

Snow creaks under a few footsteps behind you, someone letting you know that they’re there. “You’ve gotten awfully good at sneaking around,” Taehyun says. 

You let your head fall back, sighing slowly out through your nose. Turning to him, you spit, “I understand. You were right. I got it, okay? I don’t need you to come here and rub it in.” 

Beomgyu approaches from behind Taehyun. 

Taehyun doesn’t say anything for a bit, ice-hard eyes darting all over your face. “Take her back to the estate,” he tells Beomgyu. 

Glad to escape him, you begin your way on your own. You know that he’s only looking at your break down as pathetic. Perhaps it is, but recognizing that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Wind lapping at your wet cheeks have them stinging as you walk. 

Beomgyu awkwardly trails behind you as you follow the path that had become trodden in the time that you and Taehyun have been here, foliage and shrubbery broken down to make somewhat of a path. 

He doesn’t speak; you don’t expect him to. Instead, you break the quiet yourself, unable to stand only the sound of wind twirling between trees. “I should’ve taken that ridiculous charm thing,” you say, laughing through your tears. That hag had absolutely been able to feel what was coming with you with whatever intuition that the magic in her bones lends her. 

“But then,” Beomgyu says, “you wouldn’t know the truth.” 

That’s true. Not knowing the truth doesn’t make it untrue, but at least it spares your fragile heart. “I don’t know if I’d mind that,” you tell him. “I think I’d prefer it.” 

Ignorance is bliss, as the saying goes. 

❆

You don’t remember falling asleep. You remember climbing into your bed, dreading that you’ll be in your head all night, but to some mercy, you’d found sleep not long after that. 

You’d pulled yourself from bed, no matter how it had grown a gravitational pull and insisted that it’d hold you warm while you weep. If you hadn’t, you might not have gotten up at all. As a girl, you’d force yourself into the day’s routine when you had your worst days. It’s the only way that you live through it. You’d also made an effort to walk past your wardrobe. It carries so much of him: the lovely things he’d gifted you, his letters, and that book he’d lent you. It’s not that you don’t want any of these things; to wither away in your bed, to go through his things and wonder how someone who’d showered you so had meant to be your killer, to drag your feet... It’s that you can’t. 

You poke your needle through the fabric. On the cut of white fabric stretched inside the embroidery hoop, you’ve embroidered a dozen woven wheel stitch flowers of different colors and types. Your bottom aches against the hardwood flooring and your lower spine strains, but you don’t pay any mind to their complaining. You just continue to embroider the little flowers. Some are poppy, some rose, and some you’d made up just to have more to stitch. 

A knock resounds through the war room from the doorway. You look to see Taehyun there. He’s dressed in his Court attire. 

“You should get dressed,” he says. “It’s almost midnight. If you want to make it in time, you’ve got to get ready now.” 

Since when had he decided that you’re okay to go? It’s as if this elusive threat that’d he’d been so careful has up and disappeared. “You can go. It’ll take me too long to get ready.” 

Truth be told, you’d go sick seeing Yeonjun’s face, and you know without a doubt that you would. 

“It’s the solstice,” Taehyun says, stepping into the room. He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. 

Despite how much you had wanted to see it, your heart is too apathetic for it to be worth anything now. Returning to the same faces that had seen your demonstration and no doubt now talk of it... You’d rather finish your fifth rose. “I know.” 

He hesitates, studying you while gears turn in his head. “Hadn’t you thought that something would happen on the solstice?” he says. “Come on. It’s worth seeing how this unfolds.” 

“Why? We aren’t spies anymore. I don’t care what happens in their conflict. It’s well beyond my control as a human here.” 

He grimaces, but you don’t recognize the look there to be anger, more a rigidness. He rests his hand on his sword as he always does. “Then we’ll stay here.” 

You furrow your brows. “Huh?” 

“We can celebrate the solstice here,” he elaborates. “We don’t need to do it there. Plenty of folk celebrate on their own.” 

It dawns upon you that this is his stilted attempt at comforting you. It’s the only way he knows how. You push off the ground. You couldn’t ignore this sliver, however little, of tenderness. You’re not sure if you’d ever see it again if you did. You’ll take anything to distract your mind, as well. You can’t escape the image of Yeonjun’s eyes as he’d pleaded with you from the ground. “I’m not sure Beomgyu will join us, though. He doesn’t believe in the need to celebrate the solstices.” 

“He will if I command it,” he says.  

“What, you’re going to command the poor kelpie to sit and watch a bonfire with us?” you say, imagining how he’d brood. 

The north is wickedly cold at all times, but it’s especially so after night falls. You shuffle closer to the bonfire that Taehyun had built. It’s multitudes smaller than the bonfire you’d sat around with Yeonjun, but it’s warm enough for just the two of you. You quickly shove down those tainted memories before they sting. A lump of emotion forms in your throat before you can, though. You clear it. “Is there anything special that you’re supposed to do?” 

Feeding one last log into the flame, he watches it catch. “We started this really early,” he says. “The fire is supposed to keep you warm and represent the sun’s warmth until sunrise...” He trails off, sliding the cuffs of his shirt that he’d slid up to his elbows to tend to the fire down and sucking in an awkward breath. He looks between the fire and you as though he’d not fully thought out his offer when he’d made it. 

You face your palms to the orange flame, letting the roiling waves of heat warm them. “It’s nice like this.” 

The flame sizzles and pops, spewing sparks and eating up the wood, for a few long moments. You’re not in a talky mood, and Taehyun doesn’t seem to know where to begin on conversation with you that isn't functional. No snow falls around you, and any wind is cut by the estate. This—a place to lose yourself to your mind—is both the thing you need and what you most should not have. 

Taehyun stands watching the fire twirling, his arms over his chest.  

“Is your shoulder healing fine?” you ask, once the air starts feeling a bit heavy with the weight of the prolonged quiet. “Are my stitches holding up fine? No infection, or anything?” 

His gaze flicks up to you. “You stitched it up pretty well,” he answers. “I saw the flowers you were making. You’ve got a good hand.” 

Frowning, you say, “You didn’t say it’s not infected...” 

“It’s not infected,” he says. 

That could be a lie or the truth, you know. But... this sort of deception, you’re more comfortable with. Your human mind can pick up on these subtleties, can catch the careful intonation of somebody trying to hide something behind a lie. “Could I see it?” you ask him. 

He hesitates, expression flat as his eyes convey the extent of his consideration. “You can.” He grabs at his tunic, the fabric the only thing his frost blood even needs to wear out in the cold, and pulls it over his head. 

You swallow hard and fight the flush to your cheeks at the sight of his scar-flecked flesh, his muscled abdomen disappearing as he turns around to show you his back. When you’d last seen his bare skin, you’d been so high on your fear and adrenaline that you’d barely flinched.  

Blinking, you focus on the arrow puncture at his shoulder blade. It’s done some healing, but tinged by an angry red and visibly swollen around the stitches. You curse. 

Of course, he’d rather let his shoulder rot away than admit that he needs any more of your help than he’d been forced to allow. That would require admitting that he’s not just an impenetrable wall of ice. “That is definitely infected,” you say. “Were you just going to let that kill you? Infections like that are beyond help once they get in your bloodstream.” 

“I’ve had infected wounds before,” he says, preparing to put his shirt back on. “This one is nothing. It’ll take a bit longer, but... It’ll heal up fine.” 

You grab his arm. “Just let me clean it a bit,” you insist. “It’s not that big of a deal. You’re not scared that it’s gonna hurt, are you?” 

Sighing, Taehyun says, “I thought you wanted to enjoy the solstice.” 

The hopeful girl you’d been had wanted that, but now it’s just a reminder of everything you don’t want to remember. You wave your hand in the air dismissively. “We did. Come on.” 

You find a bucket to fill with water and cloth along with some stash of ancient spirits in the kitchens, their containers lined with a layer of dust so thick that you know they’re left over from Taehyun’s father. He watches you gather it all. 

You beckon him to turn and show you his shoulder again. He does, bracing his arms on a counter and letting his head hang. You spill out some of that strong liquor into the wound. You’re not really sure if it’ll work as a disinfectant, but as a girl you’d seen an older woman pour it over her wound once, and it’s all you know. 

Gently dabbing at his shoulder now with the water-soaked rag, swollen except for where the stitches sinch it, you say, “You should’ve been going gentle on this thing.” 

Taehyun doesn’t make any fuss as you prod at the wound. “I had more important things to concern myself with,” he says plainly. You press the wet rag to the wound and hold it there, and he begins to try and redirect the conversation to anything other than about himself. “What did the prince say to you at Court?” 

Your stomach drops. “It was nothing.” 

“I know that’s not the truth,” he says, picking up his head to try and look over his shoulder at you. “Tell me the truth.” 

You take the long, torn strips of cloth and begin wrapping it around the expanse of his broad shoulders in a sloppy and amateurish wrap. As long as it shields the wound, it’ll work. “That’s rich coming from you,” you say. “There’s plenty that you lie to me about. You even lied about this.” You tap his shoulder. 

Turning now that you’re done, Taehyun eyes you. You don’t know if he’d been able to hear anything over the sounds of Court or if he’d heard it all with his better hearing ears. You can’t tell which it is.  

“I’ll hear it from some Court gossiper anyway. I think you’d prefer to tell me it yourself.” 

The thought of that scene being a topic of Court gossip makes you ill, but you know that it’s true. The folk love the show, especially one that includes a prince of Faerie on his knees in front of a human. Red-hot embarrassment takes a leisurely stroll up your spine. Your biggest fear has taken flesh in the cruelest way possible.  

Well, if he’s going to end up knowing anyway... You’d prefer it’s from your mouth. You don’t know what sort of conflated half-truths the folk might come up with, since they have no more idea what happened than what they saw. “He was supposed to kill us,” you say, chest too tight to explain it in any depth. “Or, at least, find out who we are, so that we could be killed.” 

Taehyun doesn’t look shocked. He nods. “So, they anticipated our arrival, then. The odds had been stacked against us from the beginning.” 

You nod. Would you have been able to escape? If things had never become entangled between you and Yeonjun, would you and Taehyun lived beyond the first day? Taehyun is strong and you know that he’s no doubt survived plenty in his life, but you’d have been caught completely unaware. “Yeah.” 

“I told you that he’d show you his colors eventually.” 

You want to fight him on that, but you can’t. You have nothing to say. He’d been right. 

What’s left for you now that he has?  

…🪶 ashlynn's note RAHHH! like i said, this part gave me a bit of grief because part 3 was left so open ended—i had so many options and paths i could follow, but ultimately, i chose this one! how do we feel?

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[seungfl0wer]

*𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝑨 𝑻𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆*

Pairing: Minho x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Vampire!Minho, Biting, Slight Spanking, Slight pussy smack, Possessive Minho, Creampie, Unprotected Sex, Alcohol and cheating mentions. Sorry for any mistakes or forgotten tags

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this. I’ve never rewrote something so much. I really hope it’s alright I would appreciate any feedback on this one fr🥲

Find The Halloween Master List Here

-🎃

You watched as the trees passed seeing the familiar places you knew as a kid. You can’t believe you’re back here but under the circumstances you needed the familiarity. A 5 year relationship down the drain. You both were to be getting married next month but turns out love really does blind you. You let out a sigh as you pulled into your old home. Your parents left it for you after they moved to their dream home down the road. They were so excited to have you move back and so were your friends however everything was just so surreal.

You’ve been in a deep slump the last few weeks wondering round your house like a zombie. You worked on little things around the house when packing was all done. “Hmm I bet I could make the pathway look really good with some flowers” you said to yourself as you looked out onto the porch. As you wondered the shop, you couldn’t help but feel a bit at ease. It was so quiet and smelled so sweet. The arrangements that had been made splayed so nicely everywhere. You walked down the isles just basking in the prettiness of everything and that’s when he first noticed you.

Minho almost does a double take when he first sees you. You were stunning, but the smell of your soul was almost sour? Why? He looked at you, studding you like prey. You looked happy, why were you giving off such sadness? He watched you for a bit before you headed to the counter with a few plants. You smiled and waved at the man behind the counter before leaving with your stash. Minho walked over “so, do you know her?” He asked looking back outside as you got into your car. He nods “yeah why? You fancy her?” The man behind the counter says with a chuckle. Minho rolls his eyes “would you shut up and tell me who she is?” He asks.

The man laughs a bit more “hmm maybe if you can say please I will” he says with a smirk. “I hate you old man” Minho groans but the man’s not budging “uugh fine, fine please?” Minho says with the fakest smile possible. “Her names y/n, she lived here when she was younger and then moved away when she an adult. I hear she’s back because she caught her fiance cheating.” He gossiped.

“That explains the sourness to her scent” Minho said softly. “Yeah she’s been through a lot or so I hear. So if you’re gonna try and talk to her, you better not be an asshole” he said with a chuckle. He rolls his eyes again “I’m always pleasant” he says rolling his eyes once more. “Yeah yeah whatever, you still coming to the bar tonight or what?” The man asks. “Yeah, I’ll be there” he said taking a walk outside to gather some of his thoughts.

After doing some yard work and cooking dinner you laid in bed. You curled up as you let your body relax in the comfort. As you slept your window creeped open a figure leaning in looking around. He stumbled in trying not to disturb you “why must you riddle my mind?” He says softly. He looked over your sleeping figure wanting to touch your body. He breathed out trying to collect himself, his mind racing as he stared down at you. He had drank enough to kill a man but nothing could erase the way you floated through your mind.

He never entertained romantic feelings, rather being alone or having a casual hook up. He couldn’t remember the last time in the many years he’s been alive that he felt any sort of want for another person. It was like that for friends as well though, never making friends with others. Not really caring to bother to find bonds. He of course had his small group he’s been with for a millennia but anyone else was always brushed off. Why were you different? Why did you intrigue him so much? He couldn’t figure it out but it was driving him mad.

He watched as your body moved up in down with every breath. He wanted to kiss you wanted to bite you to taste everything of you. He could hear your blood moving through your veins the smell of it smelled sweet almost. He groaned at the thought of just pricking you a bit just to have a tiny taste. He knew though if he started he wouldn’t be able to stop. He watched you sleep for a while before he heard the birds chirp. “Fuck- it’s already morning.” He said before walking to the window. He knew he had to have you soon because you were driving him crazy.

——

As the days passed so did the time Minho spent watching you. He watched you through out your day and watched you at night. He felt like a stalker but he just wanted to know everything about you he was so enamored by you.

On todays faithful night you were persuaded to go out with your friends them wanting to get you out of your coop. As you drank you started to feel a bit loser. Your friends brought you up to the floor to dance grinding on each other as you drank. Minho found himself watching you from the side, he didn’t expect to see you here. He thought you’d be at home sleeping like always. His eyes were glued to you as he watched your body. “You should make your move tonight” his friend said patting him on the back with a smile. Minho rolled his eyes but he thought about it as he watched you.

Minho turned to go to the bathroom and as he came out he stopped dead in his track. He watched as a man slinked his way in front of you “hey gorgeous, wanna dance?” The man said before you could answer he was pulling you towards him hands gripping at your hips. You didn’t know how to react the alcohol swirling in your mind. You leaned into the man before you knew it he was kissing you. His tongue slipping into yours as his hands roamed your body. Minho could only stand there and watch his ‘blood’ bowling at the sight.

Your friends pulled you from the guy not before he gave you his number. Your friends teased you the whole time as they drove you home. You made your way to your bed slumping into it with a giggle. You quickly fell asleep due to the alcohol. In the middle of the night like clock work Minho found himself in your room this time though on a mission. He slinked his way onto your bed before he pealed the covers off of you. He saw you only in your panties making him groan. He couldn’t stop himself this time he leaned in taking in all your scent before licking at your clothed core.

Your body moved a little but you didn’t wake. He moved your panties to the side before finally making contact with your heat. Long licks up your folds before quickly sucking at your clit. You moaned out eyes fluttering awake. You looked down seeing a man between your legs before you could push him away he pushed his fingers into you. He curled them inside you moving them at a fast pace as his tongue lapped at your clit. He started to suck harshly at your clit biting it softly as he saw you waking.

He quickened his pace adding another finger to your sopping cunt. He felt you clenching around him knowing you were close. He took his free hand pushing down on your lower stomach to make you feel him even more. He bit at your clit as he moved his hands watching your eyes roll back. You were moaning grabbing at his hair as your legs started to tighten around his head. The squeeze tightened as your orgasm came over you. Your legs shaking around his head as he kept going as he worked you through your high.

“Y/n you think that man at the bar could please you like I can?” He said his eyes red at the thought. He pushed his pants down quickly rubbing himself up and down your dripping folds before lending a string of spit coming down to his cock head. “Gonna show you the only cock you’ll ever need.” He spat before pushing into you. Your mind was gone, completely blank from all the pleasure. He started to fuck you at a fast pace, slapping your bass as he did so. He had your thighs pressed to your chest as he pounded into you.

His hand come up to grip at your face making you look at him. “I want you to look at me. Look at me as I fuck this perfect pussy” he growls out. Your eyes met his as you felt your heart pound. God was he hot, his facial features were beautiful almost non human like. His hand left your face coming down only with your clit. “Please!” You whined out not knowing what you were begging for only to get a smack to your clit. “You’ll get what I give you, understand?” He growled again. He moved his head down nipping at your neck.

“You think that guy could make you cum like this? Make you feel so good? Only I can. Only me.” He said his movements becoming harsh his cock kissing your cervix bullying your entrance as he bottoms out. “Fuck y/n I’ve waited so long for this. Why’d you have to make it- make it like this” he groaned out. “I wanted our first time to be loving” he said before leaning back to look at you. Your eyes pricked with tears hands digging into his back. “M’sorry.” You said softly making him slow his pace. The fact you were apologizing, made his body stutter. You technically didn’t know him, didn’t know anything he was really talking about. However you still apologized. “Y/n- y/n I love you” he blurted out seeing your eyes softening at him.

“I- but why- you don’t know me?” You said softly looking up at him. His movements have all but stopped as he stared down at you. “I do- I know a lot about you. I wanna show you what these dumb guys can’t. I wanna show you real love. How you should be treated.” He said before leaning down to kiss you. The kiss was loving sensual as he started to move his hips again this time a bit slower but super deep. He wrapped your legs around him pulling your body close to his. When he pulled away seeing you smile shyly up at him “y/n let me show you the love you deserve yeah?” He said smiling at you.

You nodded “I don’t got much to lose” you said softly making him chuckle a bit. He started to fuck into you more, more lovingly. He was focused on making you cum again, he wanted you to feel how he felt. Like pure bliss. He kissed you again pushing his tongue into your mouth. “H-hey” you said softly pulling away from the kiss. “Shouldn’t I know- know your name?” You said with a little smile. “I’m yours, but you can call me Minho” he joked making you both giggle. This was the kinda love making people dreamed of, being able to joke around and feel so comfortable with one another.

He started to play with your clit again his movements were becoming a bit sloppy but he needed to make you cum first. He leaned down towards your neck kissing it softly. “You’re gonna feel a pinch ok?” He warned you before sinking his teeth into you. The small bit of pain being replaced by pleasure. As all the thoughts and memories he had of you flooding into you. Seeing and feeling how he felt about you made your body quiver. In the matter of seconds everything flowed into you, he showed you everything about him. Showing you what he was but more importantly what he wanted to be with you. It was just pure love, nothing more pure.

You felt your orgasms wash over you before even realizing it. Your body clenching around him sucking him in. He pushed into you one last time before cumming deep inside of you. He pulled his fangs from you licking the wound making it heal over. Both of your body’s felt weak as you both clung to one another. “Y/n I’m sorry for flooding your mind with everything.” He said softly against your ear. You shook your head “no- don’t be I’m happy you did. It showed me how you really felt.” You said breathily.

“You really wanna be mine?” He asked again. You nodded quickly making him smile.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” He asked nervously.

“No. I’m fine. Just” you breathed “tired”

“Wanna go take a bath and we can sleep?” He offered. He was confused when you shook your head.

“Can.. can we go again? I wanna see how you were before” you said with a devilish smile.

He met your smile with one of his own “I should know you’d be a little freak.” He chuckled. “My little freak though, and what my baby wants she gets” he said before kissing you one last time.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Halloween Taglist: @ldysmfrst @kissesmellow21 @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan

[zosin-ya]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 10 - ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇ?

summary: This day should have been special, with you and Law celebrating your academic milestone together with friends and family. Yet, Laws private and closed off personality shots back at him, causing you to break down.

tags.: Law x Reader, Modern AU, Laws parents, Drama Mama (i love drama), n.sfw, mirror sex, Laws ex being back

a.n.: I'm basing the ceremony off the European (or my countries) medicine degree, since that's the only thing I am familiar with. I rewrote the last part so many times, hope you enjoy ;; ♡

>>[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]<<

After Yuki’s little stunt, you and Law decided to play it cool. Letting her believe her plan had failed was more satisfying than giving her the reaction she wanted. You figured ignoring her attention-seeking behavior was for the best. There were more important things to focus on, like getting through the first half of university and preparing for the upcoming white coat ceremony.

While the ceremony was a big deal to you, a sign that you were officially moving from pre-clinical studies to clinical work, Law couldn’t care less. In his eyes, it was just another way for the university to inflate egos. Sure, it meant hands-on experience in the hospital, but exams weren’t going anywhere, and that white coat was just for show.

Considering that Law was aiming to be a cardiac surgeon, the coat didn't mean much to him. He wouldn’t have to deal with the coat—or much small talk with patients, either. His grin widened slightly at the thought of working in the OR, his patients unconscious while he was hands deep in their bodies.

You caught his expression as he lounged back on your couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, with an almost crooked grin of his.

“What you thinking about?” you asked, glancing at him in the mirror while fixing your hair. A towel was still wrapped around you from your shower.

His eyes flicked lazily toward you, the grin still playing on his lips. “Nothin’.”

“Mhm, sure,” you said, unconvinced. “Anyway, aren’t you going to get ready? Maybe shave?”

“Don’t like my beard?” he teased, a smirk still there as he rubbed over the faint stubble on his cheeks.

“With those dark circles, you’re starting to look like a junkie. Go on, hop to it.”

He sighed dramatically, and gave in. “Yes, ma’am.” Dragging himself off the couch, he brushed past you on his way to the bathroom, clearly not in a hurry.

Even though neither of you had made anything official, Law had started leaving a few things at your place—spare clothes, his shampoo, a razor, toothbrush. It was clear you were more than just casually dating now, but neither of you felt the need to define it. Things just were.

As you joined him in the bathroom and slipped into your underwear dropping the towel, he leaned over the sink, applying shaving cream to his face.

“Any of your people coming?” he asked, washing his hands before starting on the shaving.

You hummed and clipped your bra closed at the back “Just Bonney and Nami, how about you?”

He let out a long-suffering sigh, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Unfortunately, yes. My parents and Rosi.”

“You don’t want them to come?”

He paused, staring at his reflection for a second before dragging the razor across his jawline carefully. “They’ll just... make it a thing.” He grimaced slightly, wondering if they would have been just as proud if he didn't pursue medicine. He knew Rosinante would, but he wasn't too sure about his parents..

"Well," you said with a smile, "it's kind of a big deal."

"For you, maybe." He smirked at your reflection in the mirror. "I'm just here for the surgeries."

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Fine, fine. But you’re still shaving, so I win this round.”

“Only because I don't want to look like a 'junkie,’” he muttered, wiping his face with a towel and checking in the mirror again if he did a proper job. He let his fingers run over his face, while you watched him with a little smile, taking in how handsome he was. Even with that rough stubble he just removed, your heart still skipped a beat whenever you admired him.

You stepped closer and pressed a gentle kiss on his neck. Law watched you through the mirror, a faint grin tugging on the corners of his lips. As much as he liked the sweet moment, he couldn’t help but tease you. His hand sneakily found its way to your rear, suddenly grabbing your ass cheek and making you gasp in surprise.

Before you could protest, he walked you against the glass door of your shower. You pressed your hands against his chest, knowing well where this was heading. “Law, we don’t have time,” you protested, a chuckle leaving your lips as he started to dip his head down to your throat, peppering it with gentle kisses.

Your breath caught at his touch, each kiss sending a shiver down your spine. His hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he murmured, “Who cares…” against your neck. The shower door pressed cold against your back, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Law’s body.

“I do,” you insisted, trying to keep your voice steady despite the way his proximity was making your heart race. “I still have to get dressed.”

At this point you really questioned if Law was actually in the mood or wanting to waste precious time.

It was probably both.

Law chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours where your hands were placed in protest. “Do you?” he challenged, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. Without giving you a chance to respond, he skillfully snapped your bra open, the straps slipping off your shoulders and the fabric dangling loosely over your breasts.

You gasped, more in surprise than objection, and couldn't help but laugh at his antics. “I just put that on, Law,” you exclaimed, trying to cover yourself with your arms while you kept one hand on him, gentle pushing him off. But it was no use. You could tell by his smirk that he wouldn’t let you go.

“Never heard of a quickie?” Law teased, stepping even closer until your bodies were flush against each other. His free hand slid down to your waist, pulling you tighter against him.

 “Please explain that to your parents, once we are late,” you retorted, though your resolve was weakening with each passing second. His touch was insistent, his kisses on your throat relentless, and the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—was intoxicating.

“None of their business…” Only a murmur escaped his lips, brushing them against yours now. His breath was hot against your mouth, tempting you to give in. It was getting harder to resist with every second, and you couldn’t deny that you were getting in the mood slowly, the heat in your body radiating to your core.

"…Alright, but make it quick." you sighed with a smile, giving Law the approval he needed to hear from you.

Law stepped back to pull you towards the sink. Facing the mirror, you saw him standing pressed against you, watching your reflection with a thirsty glance.

“Law…here?” you started, but his fingers found the waistband of your panties, hooking under the fabric and tugging them down your legs until they pooled at your ankles. You honestly didn't expect to have a quickie in the bathroom, considering the bedroom was right next to it. Neither did you expect to be watching how he would fuck you.

“Why not?” he mumbled, knowing that you wouldn’t protest anymore and challenging you to do so. He knew how to seduce you, and you cursed yourself for giving in, even pushing yourself against him to feel his hard cock against his jeans. Somehow the mirror in front of you made it more exciting.

Law’s smile was approving once he felt you grind at him. He let his finger run between your folds, making you sigh in satisfaction. There had to be time to get you properly wet before indulging in the quickie. You quickly tossed your bra to the side, giving his free hand more room to play.

He nipped at your earlobe before trailing kisses down your neck, slowly putting pressure on your clit as he captured your chest with his free hand. The cold air in the bathroom gave you goosebumps, stiffening your nipples which only perked up even more once his skilled fingers pinched them gently.

“Law, please…” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper as you leaned back against him, completely at his mercy. Your hands gripped the edge of the sink as you moved against his fingers, already feeling the heat pooling at your core.

“Please what?” he whispered against your ear, his voice low and soothing. He moved one hand to your hip, guiding you to spread your legs slightly. With his other hand, he continued to massage your clit, his fingers sliding in slow, deliberate circles.

“Stop wasting time, for god’s sake. Fuck me already.” You voice was demanding, which made Law grin at you amused through the mirror. If the time wasn’t short, he’d lecture you not to command him around, letting you know who was in control. But he gave in, just this once.   

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan as his fingers worked their magic. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel your body responding eagerly to his touch. Your hips began to move on their own, grinding subtly against his hand and spreading your juice on his fingers.

Law’s grip on your hip tightened, and he shifted behind you, positioning himself. The sticky wetness on his fingers told him he could continue. He reached down and unbuckled his belt, the sound sharp and loud in the quiet bathroom. The rustle of fabric followed as he pushed his jeans and boxers down enough to free his throbbing erection.

You felt the head of his cock press against your entrance, your body trembling with anticipation. Law held you steady, his hand returning to your hips as he guided himself inside you, luring a sweet moan out of you.

The initial penetration was slow, almost agonizingly so, as he filled you inch by inch. You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him, desperate for more. The feeling of being stretched around him was incredible, and you couldn’t help but call out his name.

"Law..." you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. Your eyes locked with his in the mirror, and you saw the same hunger reflected back at you. The way you arched your back, pressing your ass against his hips in desperation, was just perfect. You wrapped an arm around his neck from behind, pulling him closer, feeling the heat of his body seep into yours.

Law began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, allowing you both to adjust to the connection. He watched your face closely, not being able to pull his eyes from the sight in front of him. "You’re so beautiful," his voice thick with desire and almost affectionate, contrasting with the rough pace he was picking up.

You cried out his name, not being able to hold onto him anymore as the room filled with the sound of skin clapping, letting yourself fall forward, gripping the ceramic of the sink. Law grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled your head up, forcing you to look back at the mirror. As he kept moving, he leaned down close to your ear, never separating his eyes from your reflection. "Let me see that pretty face of yours."

You couldn’t properly respond, moans slipping through your lips as you rocked against the sink from his rhythmic thrusts. Your eyes locked with his, now admiring him while he fucked you. His lips were parted, letting out low grunts as his eyebrows furrowed each time he snapped his hips against you. Seeing him like this clouded your mind, causing your thighs to shake in pleasure.

"You like this, don’t you?" he grunted with a grin, grabbing your chin and turning your face away from the mirror, now facing him. With a swift move, he pulled your body up again, causing your back to arch once more. Law had a tight grip on you, as he thrust relentlessly with a pace that made your tits bounce along.

His hands traveled up your body, cupping your breasts and squeezing them roughly. You gasped, your back arching even further as he continued to pound into you. The sensation was overwhelming, leaving you breathless. You could feel your orgasm building, your core tightening with each thrust.

"Law, I’m… I’m close," you panted, your voice broke as you tried to keep up with him.

He didn’t respond with words, only a growl of satisfaction as he picked up the pace even more. His fingers dug into your flesh, leaving marks that you would no doubt feel later, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was the overwhelming need to come, to let go and surrender to the pleasure he was giving you.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice hoarse with need.

You obeyed, your eyes meeting his as he continued to drive into you. The intensity of his gaze was enough to push you over the edge, and you felt your walls clench around him as you came. You called out his name shamelessly into the room as you body tensed up. Law followed right after, his own climax hitting him hard as he buried himself deep inside you, his low moans echoing off the walls.

For a moment, everything was quiet except for the sound of your ragged breathing. Law slowly pulled out of you, causing his load to spill and run down your inner thigh. You collapsed forward, grabbing old of the sink once more to steady yourself. Law leaned above you, kissing your cheek ever so gently, as usual after he ruined you within moments.

You slowly looked up, looking at him through the mirror. You hair was a mess, your cheeks flushed and your breath was going quick.

Law wanted to admire you a bit longer, but suddenly got scolded.

You turned around, slapping his chest and the lecture began. “Great now I have to shower again! You made a mess!” You pointed at your naked body, his cum down your inner leg and dripping on the bathroom tiles. Law could only chuckle as he tucked his dick back into his jeans and closed his belt. “Haven’t looked more beautiful.” He leaned down, cheeky grin on his lips which made you almost melt right at the spot. But you held you stance and rolled your eyes, with a smile cracking your lips.

“Get dressed or I will tell you parents.”

With your last words being said, you stepped aside to shower once more, while Law cozily walked into your bedroom, seemingly satisfied. The ceremony didn’t seem so bad after this.

Law stood in the living room, checking his outfit in front of the mirror. He dragged his shirt on, clearly being uncomfortable in it. The hem hung loosely over his belt, untucked, and he wasn’t going to bother fixing it.

He’d much rather be in his usual jeans and hoodie, but today, there wasn’t much of a choice.

You glanced over at him as you finished getting ready and stepped out. He was adjusting his collar with a half-hearted effort, but his gaze quickly shifted to you.

His eyes swept over your figure, lingering for a moment, before a faint smile tugged at his lips. To him, you were stunning no matter what. But seeing you all dressed up, made his heart skip a beat. You looked stunning, it almost took his breath away. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this.

While he was silently appreciating you, you leaned against the door frame with a teasing grin. “Looking fine, Trafalgar.”

His smile dropped instantly as he looked back at his reflection in the mirror, adjusting his shirt again. “Stop that.”

But you weren’t about to be convinced otherwise. The black button-up shirt stretched slightly across his shoulders whenever he moved, highlighting the muscles beneath. The top buttons were left open, revealing a glimpse of the tattoos on his chest and collarbone. He paired it with black dress pants that made his long legs look even more refined compared to his usual tight-fitting jeans.

You'd never seen him like this before, and the change caught you off guard—in a good way. Even the watch on his wrist, a gift from Rosinante, added an unexpected touch of sophistication.

“Seriously,” you said with an approving nod, “you look hot.”

Law grumbled something under his breath, but there was no hiding the faint flush creeping up his neck. “Don’t get used to it.”

Chuckling you stepped closer and adjusted his collar. “Too late.”

You arrived together in front the ceremony hall, students dressed in the same formal attire were already gathering outside, standing around small cocktail tables with drinks—most holding glasses of champagne. People were chatting with family and friends who had come to witness the event. It was all very proper.

As you and Law approached the crowd, it suddenly hit you—you’d be meeting his parents today.

How did you completely forget about that?

You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. You weren’t even sure what you were to him. His…friend? That didn’t fit at all. His girlfriend? Maybe, but was Law ready to use that word?

While you spiraled in your thoughts, Law was the picture of calm, casually spinning his bike keys around his finger. He clearly wasn’t fazed. To him, it wasn’t a big deal at all.

“Law?” you stopped walking for a moment, causing him to glance back at you with raised eyebrows.

“Mh?”

“Do your parents know that... uh, you know...” You gestured awkwardly between the two of you, unsure of what to call this. You hoped he’d get the hint without you having to say it outright.

Law just stared at you for a beat, processing your question. “That we... you know, are a thing?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, waiting for his answer.

“I never felt the need to tell them,” he said casually, his tone nonchalant.

You felt your chest tighten at that, and not in a good way. You knew Law was private—he didn’t share much with anyone—but hearing it still stung. Was this... you... not important enough to him? Your mind raced, and despite your best efforts to push it away, you couldn’t help but think of the pictures you’d seen on Yuki’s social media—the ones with Law’s family, her standing there like she belonged.

He must’ve noticed the shift in your expression because suddenly, his hand rested on your back, gentle but reassuring. “Hey,” he said softly, “don’t overthink it. I barely tell them anything.”

“Okay...” you mumbled, but it didn’t quite convince you. You forced a smile, but inside, doubts lingered.

As you walked into the crowd together, your mood had taken a sudden dip. Your thoughts spiraled, clouding over the excitement you’d felt earlier. Law, never the best at emotional support, glanced over at you but wasn’t sure what to say. He hoped that once you met his parents, things would shift. To him, it didn’t really matter what they thought. He liked you—well, more than like you—and that should’ve been enough, right?

“Hey, Law!” Rosinante’s booming voice snapped both of you out of your heads. He stood at a cocktail table, dressed in a suit that was unmistakably his own style—loud and unique. Beside him were two people who could only be Law’s parents.

Your heart raced as you approached them, and your throat felt dry. You suddenly wished you could reach for Law’s hand, to hold it for some kind of comfort. But his hand was buried deep in his pocket, leaving you feeling strangely vulnerable.

When you reached the table, you forced a nervous smile. Law’s parents eyed you curiously, surprise flickering across their faces. It stung, realizing they hadn’t known about you. You had been hoping, even if just a little, that maybe Law had mentioned you in passing.

“My little baby, I’ve missed you! Come here!” His mother, Lea, wrapped Law in a tight hug, squeezing him affectionately. Law’s posture stiffened, clearly not the biggest fan of the physical affection, but you caught a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. His father, Matheo playfully ruffled his hair, the pride in his eyes unmistakable.

“And who is your friend?” Matheo asked, turning to you with a warm, friendly smile.

You swallowed the knot in your throat, relieved by their kindness, though the nerves still fluttered inside you.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” you said, shaking their hands, doing your best to keep your voice steady.

“Lea,” his mother said with a smile, squeezing your hand lightly. “And this is Matheo.”

Matheo broke the ice with small talk, making you feel a little more at ease. “So, you met through university? Rosi mentioned something about that.”

You nodded, relaxing slightly. At least someone thought it was worth mentioning. “Yeah, we met while studying for an exam.”

Lea smiled warmly, glancing at Matheo with so much love it warmed your heart. “Oh, that’s how we met too,” she said, her eyes twinkling as she looked at her husband, who chuckled softly.

But then, Lea’s expression shifted, her enthusiasm rising as she asked, “So, which part of the North are you from?”

The question caught you off guard. Had Rosinante mixed something up? Before you could respond, you sensed a shift in Law’s mood. You could hear the faint jingle of his keys as he fidgeted with them in his pocket. Something was off, but you couldn’t quite figure out what.

“I’m actually from the East,” you replied, feeling a bit shy. “Just a small town.”

For a brief moment, you noticed something shift in his parents’ expressions—was that disappointment?  

You felt a pang of unease. You knew the East wasn’t prestigious or well-known for much, but you’d never felt ashamed of where you came from. Still, their reaction stung.

You were pulled from your thoughts when Bonney and Nami approached your table, both flashing wide smiles, true to their word about attending your ceremony. They were dressed to impress, each in tight-fitting dresses and heels, the daringly low necklines drawing more than a few glances. The moment they wrapped you in a warm hug, some of your nerves melted away—you were grateful to have your friends by your side in what felt like an awkward situation.

“Thanks for being here you two,” you greeted them, the relief evident in your voice.

“Of course! How could we miss our favorite doctor getting her lill' white coat?” Bonney teased lovingly, giving your cheek a playful pinch. Meanwhile, Nami offered Law a friendly nod and a quick smile, a much quieter but no less genuine greeting.

“And congratulations to you too, Law,” Nami added.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Law replied, his smile small but sincere. Despite the headaches your friends had given him at their first encounter, he was starting to warm up to them. Their genuine support and friendliness were hard to resist, even for him. It reminded him, in a strange way, of his own two overly enthusiastic friends.

“Is this your family?” Bonney asked, glancing over at Law’s parents and Rosinante, who was quick to step forward with a broad grin, extending his hand.

“Proud uncle of our little Law! So nice to meet you,” Rosinante beamed, shaking hands enthusiastically.

You couldn’t help but notice that Law’s parents—especially his mother—seemed to force their smiles just a little. Lea, in particular, kept casting subtle, judgmental glances at Bonney and Nami, her eyes flicking to the cleavage on display. The tension was palpable, and you shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to feel.

Nami, ever perceptive and clearly used to these kinds of looks, wasn’t about to let it slide. As she reached out to shake Lea’s hand, she leaned in a bit closer, purposefully emphasizing the very thing that had drawn Lea’s attention. Rubbing it in—literally, almost under Lea’s nose—she smiled sweet and unfazed. “It’s great to meet you. Guess Law got his eyes from his beautiful mother.”

Her casual confidence and charm caught Lea off guard for a moment, a small smile formed on her lips. “Oh, please, that’s too kind.”

Law shot you a quick glance, clearly picking up on how Nami had defused the tension with his mother. He had to admit, her response was sharp—turning the obvious judgment into a compliment. It was a clever move, one that he could appreciate. And, it worked. His mother, who had been cool and a bit standoffish, seemed to soften under Nami’s charm.

You couldn’t help but smile slightly, feeling a sense of pride in how smoothly your friends were handling the situation. They didn’t just blend in—they took control of the moment with grace. Bonney, in particular, was in her element, chatting with Matheo like they were old friends. Her laughter was infectious, and she’d already managed to crack a couple of jokes that had him chuckling.

For a brief moment, Law caught your eyes again, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at his lips. Your friends really knew what they’re doing.

As people began to trickle inside, the soft buzz of conversation suggesting it was time for the ceremony to start, you and Law made your way toward the stage. Your friends and family settled into the audience, ready to watch the proceedings. Names were called one by one, and when your name echoed through the hall, you stepped up to receive your diploma, marking the completion of the pre-clinic stage. The head of the medical department gave a long, somewhat dry speech, but even you had to admit it was inspiring in parts.

Bonney and Nami were your biggest cheerleaders, erupting into loud applause that made you feel like a star on your big day. Law’s family, seated nearby, clapped just as loudly when his turn came, though you could see from a distance that Rosinante was the one shedding tears of pride. It warmed your heart to see how much this meant to him.

Once the ceremony wrapped up, you rushed to your friends, falling into their arms as they hugged you tight, bursting with pride. Law endured a similar treatment from his family, although his awkwardness was clear—he wasn’t one for big emotional displays. You could tell he thought the whole ordeal was a bit much, already counting down the minutes until he could go home and relax.

As everyone drifted outside, Bonney and Nami split off to grab a round of champagne, eager to kick off the celebrations. You watched them walk away, but the familiar judgmental look from Lea caught your attention. It seemed Nami's charm hadn't quite been enough to change her mind completely.

And just as you thought you could finally relax and enjoy the celebration, the person you wished to never see again approached your group.

Your heart sank the moment you saw Yukis confident smile.

“Ah, Matheo! Lea! I thought it was you!” her overly sweet voice rang out as she greeted Law’s parents with far too much enthusiasm. Your stomach twisted as Lea and Matheo welcomed her rather warmly, while Law clenched his jaw in visible annoyance. Rosinante, standing nearby, looked equally displeased, his frown deepening as Yuki ignored him entirely and turned her attention to Law, acting as though you weren’t even there.

“Congratulations, Law,” she cooed, her voice so sugary it made your skin crawl. “You’ll be amazing in the clinic phase. No surprise, being the son of such great doctors.” She lightly touched Law’s arm, but he quickly pulled away, the whole scene making you feel nauseous.

“You’re just as prestigious,” Lea chimed in, her chuckle sickeningly sweet. “I’ve heard wonderful things about your internship at Lvneel. If you ever need a spot, let us know—we can help you secure one.”

Yuki’s face lit up with fake gratitude. “Thank you so much! I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

Before you could even process how frustrating this exchange was, Bonney and Nami returned, carrying trays of champagne glasses. The moment they saw Yuki standing there, chatting away as if she and Law were still together, their moods shifted instantly.

Bonney didn’t hesitate, cutting right to the point. “Sorry, this is a family table. And you are?” Her tone was dripping with hostility, clearly not caring to hide her disdain. Lea looked taken aback, quickly stepping in to defend.

“It’s fine. She’s family,” Lea said, as if that settled the matter.

Nami looked genuinely shocked, exchanging a bewildered glance with you and Law before turning back to Yuki, who smiled innocently. “Yeah, no,” Nami said firmly. “I’d much rather she wasn’t here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yuki, please…,” Law sighed, his voice thick with frustration. Rosinante crossed his arms, standing ready to intervene if necessary, nodding in agreement to make it clear she wasn’t welcome.

Lea and Matheo looked at each other, a bit confused and conflicted.

Yuki’s expression twisted into one of hurt, her performance impressive in its own right. “I just wanted to say congratulations,” her voice shaking as if her heart had just broken. You could barely believe the scene unfolding in front of you—Bonney and Nami were equally shocked, while Law looked beyond fed up, his irritation boiling over.

You had a strong feeling that Law's parents were missing out on something about their sons past relationship. You couldn't quite pinpoint any other reason. Something just felt off.

Rosinante finally intervened, sensing how close things were to spiraling out of control. He placed a gentle hand on Lea‘s shoulder, speaking with a gentle authority. “Can we talk? Just for a moment, please.” His voice was steady but firm, completely ignoring the venomous glare Yuki shot his way. Law noticed it too, and for a second, he wanted to knock that smug look off her face.

Lea and Matheo exchanged glances once more, realizing Rosinante wasn’t giving them a choice. They nodded and agreed to step aside for a private conversation. As they walked away, you exhaled sharply, feeling the tension shift but not fully dissipate.

The moment they were out of sight, Bonney locked eyes with Yuki, her protective instincts flaring up. The intensity of her gaze could’ve cut through steel. “Listen here, you little bitch,” Bonney spat, her voice low and dangerous. “You better leave before I ruin your face with my fist.”

Yuki didn’t even flinch. She eyed Bonney up and down with an air of arrogance, then scoffed dismissively. “Sure,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. Then, without missing a beat, she turned to Law with the same smug expression. “Enjoy yourself with your loser friends.”

Bonney lunged toward her, fury radiating from her, but Nami grabbed her arm just in time, holding her back. Nami’s eyes, however, were locked on Yuki, her calm demeanor doing little to hide the fire in her gaze. They both watched as she strutted away, her confidence nauseating. Every step she took felt like another jab, but you knew in your gut that she was just putting on a show to make you feel small.

Bonney shook off Nami’s grip but didn’t pursue Yuki any further, though the desire to do so was clear in her eyes. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, her knuckles white as she clenched her fists.

“I can’t believe they let her get away with this,” Nami added quietly, her voice filled with frustration.

Law's gaze softened as he looked at you, his attempt at reassurance falling short, even though his words were sincere. “Sorry Y/N, didn't expect her to come over,” he sighed, but the truth was, it didn’t ease the knot in your stomach.

“Why didn’t you mention me to your parents?” Your voice finally broke, a mixture of hurt and frustration seeping through. You had been holding it in for too long, and now, standing in front of Law, you couldn’t help but confront him.

Law blinked, clearly caught off guard by your question. Nami and Bonney exchanged glances but stayed quiet, sensing the tension thickening around the table.

“Why would I do that?” Law asked, genuinely puzzled. His tone was cool, almost dismissive, as if it hadn’t even occurred to him that this might matter.

But it mattered to you.

“Are we not serious?” Your voice rose, cutting through the heavy silence. “What is this to you, Law? You're acting like it's some casual fling. And now I meet your parents before you even tell them about me?”

Law’s expression hardened, his irritation rising to meet yours. “If I wasn’t serious, I wouldn’t still be here,” he shot back, his voice low but tense. He didn’t feel like he had to explain himself—he was the one who’d decide when and how to introduce you to his parents. Why were you so hung up on it? Wasn't it enough that he liked you?

“Oh, but your ex is somehow still part of the family, huh?”

“She isn't.” Law fired back, his irritation clear in his voice. “She’s not a part of anything anymore.”

“Oh, really?” you countered, sarcasm dripping from your words. “Because it sure seems like she still is!”

“Are you dense or something?” Law snapped, the sharpness of his words cutting through the air. It stung, but you refused to back down.

Nami shifted and Bonney opened her mouth to say something, but it was too late. The argument had already ignited, and there was no stopping it now.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, cold and unforgiving. “Am I? Or are you?” You took a step closer, eyes narrowing as you searched his face for any crack in his facade. “You didn’t think to mention that you have a toxic ex who still seems to have feelings for you? Or that your parents still love that ex? What’s next, Law? Is there something else you’re hiding? Do you have a kid you forgot to mention?”

Law’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His eyes flickered with something—maybe guilt, maybe realization—but he didn’t speak.

"You’re leaving me alone in all of this." Your voice cracked despite your best efforts to hold it together. Tears brimmed at the edge of your eyes, but you blinked them away, determined not to let them fall. A bitter, hollow laugh escaped your lips as you grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder with a sharp movement. "This is ridiculous."

Law's eyes widened slightly, as if realizing too late where this was heading. He took a small step toward you, his expression a mixture of guilt and frustration, but he didn’t say anything.

You shot him a glance, one filled with hurt he didn’t know how to respond to. “Thanks for nothing, Law.”

The words stung, hanging in the air between you like a blade poised to strike as you left. He stood there, silent, his usual calm exterior cracking just enough for you to see the turmoil beneath.

You felt the tears threatening to spill over, but you kept moving, your feet carrying you away from the event.

taglist: @mars-mizuko, @tadomikiku, @hopelesslover06 , @loraleiii, @mwhahahalasagna

(Let me know in the comments and I’ll add you 🖤)

[corvidcrossbow]

~•♡•~ Total Eclipse Of The Heart

➳ Summary: You take Daryl to watch the 2017 solar eclipse (Daryl x GN!Reader)

➳ Setting: Southern Virginia, August 21st, 2017 (in the 6 year timeskip in season 9)

➳ Word count: 1.6k

➳ C/W: Nothing

➳ A/N: Simple thing cuz I hated Leah watching something as special as the eclipse w/ Daryl in the show cuz I DO NOT LIKE her ass so I rewrote it cuz I believe there's few things more bonding than watching an eclipse with someone. Whippin out the dad music reference on this one. (I am working on reqs! I just have training for my job which my boss very reassuringly dubbed “bootcamp” and health shit is beating my ass I need to call like 3 specialty clinics again um 🗿)

“Ya ever gon’ tell me where we goin'?”

“Nope. Almost there,” You replied, a cheeky grin on your face as you swiveled your head back to glance at Daryl who sat behind you on his motorcycle. You'd dragged him out of his guilt-ridden solitude in the forest and demanded he get on, saying you needed to show him something and would not be taking ‘nah’ for an answer. You'd been driving southwest for nearly two hours now, headed towards something specific.

Daryl had little sense of the date, having spent nearly the last 3 ½ years out in the woods, wrapped up in his search for Rick. You stayed with him from time to time, Carol checking in as well, but he was too stubborn to go home with either of you no matter how many times you urged it. Even if he knew the day, you weren't sure he'd even know why it was special.

You, however, had been tracking the calendar and lunar cycles, and kept one specific date and pattern in your mind for the last 7 years; August 21st, 2017. You remembered ages ago, reading on science forums and listening to programs on the television, that today, the paths of the moon and the sun would perfectly align and grace a total solar eclipse across the entirety of the United States.

Your lives were such shit in so many ways: flesh eating, rotting corpses snarling after you at every second, run in after run in with malicious and corrupt people and groups, the lack of food, water, shelter and security, so many people gone – and that didn't include everything from before the dead reawoke. And with Daryl unadmittably depressed after the bridge, you would've done anything to show him there were other things in life to focus on. To live for.

So you left Alexandria early in the morning, found Daryl's camp, and forced him to join you. At first he'd thought something godawful had once again disturbed the communities, so bad you couldn’t tell him. But when you started driving the opposite direction, he grew confused and repeatedly asked what was going on, yet you never gave him an answer. Still, he trusted it was important – trusted you – and let you lead him.

❥-》》—————➣

You pulled off the side of the road, powering down the engine and putting up the kickstand, sliding off and stepping to walk into the forest. You'd gone further down into Virginia, knowing that was closer to totality. It wouldn't be complete, but the distance made a difference. “Alright, c'mon.”

Daryl grabbed your wrist, tugging you back and catching your attention, his eyebrows narrowed. “Really? Tha hell's s’all this? Ya haul me'ah hundred miles away tah walk in tha damn forest?”

“Ya spend all your time in a forest anyway, Dixon.” His expression hardered a little, and you sighed. “Please just follow me. I promise you, it's worth it.”

He looked over the features of your face, judging the sentiment they conveyed, and after a moment let you go. You were already here, no point in going back now. As you spun back around, he begrudgingly trailed after you.

You scanned the environment as you went, stopping near an opening in the canopy of trees that gave view to the sky. You could tell by the slanting of shadows and the slightly abnormal shape of light above you that the process had already begun, all that was left was to observe. So you set your bag down and sat, motioning for Daryl to as well.

“Thi'sa picnic or sum?” He questioned, grunting a little as he unsurely slung his belongings off his shoulder to the ground and did the same, settling beside you.

“Could be, I do have some food.” He didn't seem amused. “But no, not a picnic. You know what the day is? Any idea why it's meaningful?”

“Ts'summer, kno’ tha’. M'ah supposed tah kno’?”

“Maybe, I don't expect you to. Here.” You twisted and opened your bag, reaching for a welding mask you'd brought along and passed it to him. “Look at the sun.”

The archer eyed the facial shield, then you, but listened and held it to his face before shifting his gaze up. He squinted, taking sight of the arc carving that ate into the historically circular form of the burning celestial body. And you explained; “It's August 21st… 2017.”

He had to think for a bit. “Tha eclipse?” He lowered the mask and peered back at you. Memories lodged deep in the layers of his mind sparked; learning about eclipses way back in highschool and hearing his teacher mention it, then the annular one in ‘94 and seeing pictures plastered all over the news where they discussed the future.

“Yeah, thought we should see it. It'll look better down here, not perfect, but still… and the lens on that is dark enough it shouldn't hurt our eyes,” You answered, taking your own look before laying back and using your bag as a pillow. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but that's roughly the last thing you cared about right now.

He couldn't help but just stare for a minute, studying how nonchalant you were about everything. How you'd so easily removed him from his rut when so many other attempts had failed, even with his cluelessness around your intentions – like some larger force took hold and finally willed him to break his destructive routine.

Daryl sprawled out next to you on the forest floor, trading the welding shield back and forth over the course of the next half hour, as well as a piece of paper to see the casted geometry. You both watched as more and more of the sun was etched away, taking mental images each time and comparing the new form to the old. It was mostly quiet, lost in similar awe but varying thoughts. You inched closer every time it was his turn, assuming he noticed but didn't point it out.

“Y'know… total solar eclipses are meant to be when the deities and energies fuse, just as the paths do. A window for opportunities and transformation… time for change,” You commented, recalling all people said about the symbolism of such an event. He gave an ‘Mm’, just so you knew he'd heard you, but paid more attention to the progression in the ethers.

The world around you began to rapidly darken, a sliver of orange glow visible in the makeshift glasses. Knowing it was close, you slid your left palm into his right, weaving fingers together, and he returned the hold, still remaining absorbed in the view.

The moon crossed over the sun – at least as best it would from your vantage point; golden rays illuminating around solid black. As Daryl's eyes locked on the sky, taking it all in, yours locked on him, choosing to watch him over a potentially once in a lifetime occurrence. He lowered the mask to briefly see it fully, now reaching for the sheet.

He looked at peace, maybe for the first time in his life: the constant storm of thoughts that persistently clouded his mind finally parting, even if for just a small moment. You witnessed the glitter of genuine emotion return to his blue's, something you'd feared was so long abandoned it may have been forgotten. Rich browns of his wavy hair glowed iridescent auburns when shimmers of sunlight peeked through the leaves, perfectly complementing everything about his being.

You knew you each needed that change.

“I love you.”

He took a second, making sure the sound of your voice was real and not crafted by his own imagination. His head turned, somewhat staggered to find your eyes already meeting his. It was impossible to rip away, your visions warping together as you seemed to merge, entranced by the little crescents that reflected on each other's irises. His free hand ditched the paper and reached over as he partly rolled to his side.

“For a long time.”

In fluid movements, Daryl's calloused fingers smoothed across the delicate skin on your cheek, leaning in and bringing you to him in a longing kiss. You didn't entirely expect it, although you didn't expect anything in particular at all, too unsure of how he'd react. But you pushed back against him, deepening the kiss and paying no thought to anything beside how it felt to finally overlap with him – till he broke away.

“I love ya too,” He mused, accent thickening in the confession. When you opened your mouth to continue, he shut you up with another peck and angled your face straight above. “Watch. M'not bein’ tha reason ya miss this.”

Words could wait, but the eclipse would not. So you obliged, cuddling closer to him and squeezing his hand as birds and insects sung in a concerned ensemble triggered by the daylight's disappearance.

The tranquility was eerie, a sensation mostly left in the rubble of society and replaced by prevalent chaos. You wondered if the feeling was shared elsewhere; at home with everyone in Alexandria, with survivors across the entire rest of the country. Maybe those who didn't know thought the holy spirit was returning to rescue your raptured souls. Did the walkers pause to look too? Everything so out of the ordinary it caught their attention?

But none of that mattered to you, because you had it here. And you basked in it with the one person you'd always hoped you would've.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

[tyttamarzh]

Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter.

This will probably be very long, so if you want to read it, go grab some popcorn and get comfortable.

I have to talk about this because it's eating me up inside. I think I shouldn't give so much importance to comments coming from sewers like Twitter and much less Tiktok, but it makes me so sick (and I'm such a masochist that I even spend time looking for the shit they say to make me angrier and debate them xD).

I am very happy that it was finally made official, with papers certified by the federation, that Tallulah is the daughter of Philza and Missa, I think that was not entirely necessary for them, because they had assumed it for a long time (let's assume that Tallulah needed the pappers to end her W arc), although I suppose that more than anything it was done for those people who still cannot accept it or who deny the paternity of Phil and Missa (With Missa, although it bothers me, I can even understand it, he He hasn't been as present and many people don't know him, but god, it would be a crime to deny Tallulah's paternity to Phil, the man who has kept her alive and given everything for her throughout her life).

I'm glad that, although I have seen negative comments, the majority have been positive (even if it hurts them, it doesn't matter, it's official, screw them). Mainly, the negative comments have been from defenders of W and their arguments are so poor and weak that they are easily refuted. It is obvious that these people do not know Tallulah and have never met her, many do not even know how things turned out and say nonsense like that the current Llulah is an imposter, that it is not fair that they "rewrote" history and erased W (which It is false, Llulah's words make it clear that history was never changed, she simply moved on and that person remained in the past).

I refuted all those arguments on Twitter but screw Twitter, I hate the fucking character limit. So I'm going to expand (I have a lot of poison to get out of my skin). I have some points:

1- "That's not Tallulah" Of course it is her, those who witnessed her life and her growth during the year that passed, can realize that this was her natural evolution. She is the same girl who grew up overcoming her limitations, who suffered, who felt alone, who had abandonment problems, who everyone saw as a poor abandoned girl and who found comfort next to someone who has always loved her like a father and a brother who gave everything for her.

2- "They erased all her lore" No. Tallulah's lore is the one she built with Philza and Chayanne over the course of the year they lived together. Her relationship with W and her longing for him was only part of her story (although people made a lot of emphasis on that), but it was not the only thing that defined her, it never was and only people who never got to met her think that. They see her like an extension of that other person, as the only thing that kept him on the server, but did not see her as an individual character and definitely did not watch Phil's Vods and they never really knew her lore.

3-"How do they explain this in the lore?" Simple, there was someone in her life, someone who was her first father, but who spent very little time with her, who left a long time ago and who is currently no longer part of her life. She learned to let go of the past and focused in the family she has in the present, the family that loves her, that watched her grow up, that makes her happy and gives her security to believe in herself and that is the Death Family, Chayanne, Philza and Missa. Time passes, not all people stay, treasure those who are by your side and let go of what never brought you anything but pain.

4- "They should have created another egg and replaced her" Why replaceher? It has no sense or reason. She is a character who built her own story with her family, a story that never really involved that other person other than with one or another sporadic mention, why eliminate a character that evolved by itself? Little by little she separated herself from what she was at the beginning and that bond that she had with that first father was practically non-existent. What would be the point of eliminating it or replace her with another new character?

5- "No matter what other parents and appearance give her, she will always belong to W because she still carries the name he gave her" No. She never belonged to him. She lived with that man for 2 days and apart from leaving him the promise of a reunion, she did not contribute anything else to her life. She formed her own path, her passion for music was not because of him, it was something she already had before, her love for nature, for animals, everything was built in the days she lived with Philza (even with uncle Bad). She suffered for her first father but she moved on, she matured, she discovered her link with death and her powers as a medium, she acquired her own personality and little by little she built the Tallulah she is now.

She never belonged to anyone but herself and she always fought to prove that, but people insisted on dumping trauma on her and reminding her that she was an abandoned child waiting for someone who at a certain point was nothing more than an idealized dream, because There was never a real relationship between them, they never lived together long enough. She little by little made her decisions and chose the people she wanted to be her parents (and it's not that she had few options, Quackity, Bad and even F wanted to adopt her at the time and asked them to, but she was not a girl who was looking for parents). She could choose and she chose Philza, the person who had always been there for her and later she chose Missa, someone who despite not knowing her very well gave her his love unconditionally and gave her security when she needed it. Then she was able to feel the warmth of being part of a complete family.

6- "They should change her name because W gave her that name! That impostor is not Tallulah!" Why? Her name is not anyone's intellectual property, at the time it was given to her, it belonged to her for better or worse and yes, in some way it will always be a tie to her past, but a past she has already left behind and managed to overcome by creating new memories and dreams.

To a certain extent I understand those who became attached to her because she reminded them of that other person, but if they couldn't see her as her own character, it means that they never cared enough to make the effort to get to know her.

It would shock us all if a character we liked suddenly changed drastically and left behind what like us in the first place. But if they had really watched her, they would have realized that the change was not sudden, it was gradual.

She found in Phil a protective and understanding father who always put her and her brother before anything else, who suffered with her her pain and outbursts of frustration due to the depression caused by the absence of her first father. She found in Missa a cute and loving father who always showers her with love and helps her to have confidence in herself. She doesn't lack anything with them. She has closed a cycle of pain in her life and now she can heal.

She chose the look that makes her feel finally free to be herself, whatever the external reasons that led to that, she finally has a future ahead of her unbound by the past and prefers to be more like the people she considers her family now. If you can't see what all of this really meant to Tallulah and her evolution, it's because you never cared to see even 20% of her story. Well, since the middle of last year she began her journey to break away from a name and be herself, fighting to be seen for who she was.

If those people decide to continue supporting someone despite his shit, that is their right, but the server and the admin were also within their right to decide to kick him out and want to distance themselves from a person they consider unpleasant.

7-There were comments of another type, mainly from people who are really very lost with the lore, people who consider her the daughter of Quackity, even confusing her with Tilín (saying that Q didn't know if she was the daughter of W or Luzu and that she should get a DNA test), when we all know that from the beginning she was W's daughter as a single father and that the only reason Quackity could have become Tallulah's father was if to marry W, but that never happened, W didn't come back and Quackity was never able to develop that relationship with Llulah, she considered him a possible father because she knew W loved him, but Q always being kidnapped or something, they never really related much. There are people who, even with a certificate, continue to insist that Tallulah should have been given to Quackity to raise with Luzu (she had a tender interaction with Luzu and people were already asking him to adopt her, saying that she was alone and had no parents, I seriously hate them!) I shouldn't take seriously people who obviously haven't seen Philza even once and I know that many of those people are hispanic and are limited by the language barrier but if they don't have the slightest idea They shouldn't give their opinion… Tallulah is not an object to be passed from hand to hand, she chose and in order to do so she had to go through a very long and painful arc.

8- I firmly believe that it is a great win to now have a certificate that endorses who the people she considers her parents are, but I insist, it was not necessary, because that has been known for a long time and I am sure that if it was created it was to close the mouth mouth to all those people who are not capable of accepting that.

Tallulah is the daughter of Philza and Missa (and no one else), she is part of the Death Family, that is her story, it is not a whim, a whim is continuing to link her to something she is no longer a part of or wanting to make her a part of a lore that never happened or wanting to give her other parents different from the ones she grew up with (Quackity already had Tilín, Richas and now Pepito, I don't think she needs more children and Tallulah doesn't need any more shitty drama in her life).

Tallulah is a beautiful being, both with her old look and with the new and as Missa says "She deserves only the beautiful things in the world"

Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter!!! Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter!!! Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter!!! And I can shout it a thousand times because it's true and she always was, but now it's certified by the government and no amount of complaining or tantrums can change that fact.

Sorry for my bad english. See you!! jajaja ando re agresiva, pero es que nadie se mete con mi familia xD

[anacdoce]

I Wish

Chapter 2 - Embrace the eternal night

Pairing: Astarion x you (f!reader, implied sorcerer)

Rating: T

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: reliving memories from the past; some angst; some fluff

Summary: Astarion decides to change his priorities; he is tired, and you have given him the courage to ask for what he has wanted for a long time.

a/n: At first, this chapter was intended to be in the reader's POV, but it didn't feel right. So, I rewrote it from Astarion's perspective, hoping to capture his thoughts and feelings accurately.

Special thanks to @bloodlessdarling for generously allowing me to use her perfect screenshots.

Hope you enjoy it <3

Read on ao3

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While you sleep, Astarion lies beside you, adoring you, listening to your heartbeat and your breathing. The sound of it soothes his own heart and thoughts. He enjoys these moments and sometimes he even talks to you in his mind, telling you things that he’s not ready for you to hear just yet. 

The night before had left him restless, guilt gnawing him for your suffering, making him dwell on his own pain and worries. So he watches you while you sleep, trying to find clarity in his thoughts.

For so many years, I prayed to the Gods, pleading for a way out of my torment, and all I got was silence. I was forsaken. They had abandoned me, and I had to endure my pain alone for so long that I forgot how it felt without it anymore. After some time, I gave up on praying. I gave up on believing, or so I thought I did. 

I did what I have to do to survive. And sometimes, all I wished for was to die. 

There were times during my hunts for prey to satisfy Cazador’s insatiable hunger when I fantasized about being hunted myself, that someone could stab a stake through my undead heart and put an end to my miserable existence. After years of torture and torment, I whished for nothing no more. I was a puppet to my Vampire Lord, and I accepted my fate, or so I pretended to believe.

Every time that filthy sack of bones of Godey had beaten me nearly to death, I repeated to myself it was my fault, that I deserved it for displeasing my Master in some way. But deep inside, there was always something that kept me fighting. Every time I was on the floor, beaten up, I gathered all the strength I had left and got up. Every single time… defying everything I forced myself to believe.

And for that, I was beaten a little more just for getting up, raising again, and again, and again… I did not hope for anything, but I did not stop fighting either. And I always wondered why I fought so hard to stay alive, to survive all that pain. I told myself it was the thirst for vengeance that drove me.

That’s when, after so many years without hoping, I stumbled upon you, my darling. My sweet little thing… you with all your kindness and gentle words, with all your altruism and modesty… I despised you for so long, because you were everything, and I was nothing. Because you hadn’t suffered anything, and I had suffered everything for both of us. And yet, you were a light in my darkness.  

Every single kind gesture you had done for me was like daggers in my chest because I didn’t remember how to do anything without pretending. And so, I went along, and I did what I knew best — I pretended. I played a game to manipulate you, to bring you to my side, to gain protection. And you let me carry on with my plan, even when you knew what I was doing, because you saw more in me than the monster I thought I was. You believed in me.

Day after day, you gave me something. A smile, a kind word, your blood, a kiss… and you gave me everything freely because you wanted to. Because you cared. You never used me, you never tried to get advantage of me. You always treated me with respect and gave me everything, never expecting anything in return. That consumed me for days. I wasn’t used to it.

I didn’t trust you because I knew the day would come when you would finally ask me for something in return for your kind gestures. But that day never came. And then, to my surprise, I realized I wasn’t pretending anymore. After years of putting on a mask, I could finally drop it. I was there with you because I wanted to.

You helped me when no one else had. You gave me your hand and you didn’t let me go, ever. And I accepted it. I was grateful, but I had never been more afraid. 

I couldn’t lose you. Not to our foes, not to the Absolute, not to Cazador… How could I ever return to my Master, after you? After all the things you made me feel and believe? How could I risk your life when Cazador found out that I was in love with you? Because he would hunt you, and he would drain you in front of me, just for me to watch and suffer… 

So many nightmares I had about you in his hands, dying at my feet, begging me for help. And so many times I woke up from them with you by my side, holding me, feeling my pain as yours, promising me that you would help me to get free from my chains forever. And you did.

Today I am free and I am here with you, my love. I am so grateful…

At that time, I cursed the Gods for abandoning me. Until you… you are the best gift that they could have offered me. You are everything I could ever have wanted. You saved me.

I know that some days are harder than others and sometimes I may be such a prick to you, my dear, and yesterday was an example of that… For that, I am so sorry, my love. But I am trying to be better.

It’s not easy to forget two hundred years of torment, and I know I have a long recovery ahead of me. But you are helping, softening this burden of mine…  always so patient and understanding. You are always by my side, never giving up on me, always ready to give me your hand and guide me when my days are not so bright. You love me for the man I am, with all my flaws and imperfections, not wishing for anything other than to make me happy.

You are everything to me and I don’t intend to be unworthy of you anymore.

Last night you made me believe that I can give you a real life. Your words are spinning in my head even now: “I choose you. And if not seeing the sun again is the price to be paid, be it. I will live with you in the dark of the night, forever, because I don’t need any other light than yours… you are my light, Astarion.” They are healing me in a way that I can’t even explain, and I will remember them forever.

Which made me realize that I was chasing the wrong things all this time. Because nothing is more important than you, and what I really want is to have you. I want you to be mine, and I want to enjoy our lives together without the running, the searching, the hunting… I am tired of that. I am tired of pursuing nothing but enchanting fables.

It is time to stop. 

As Astarion wanders through his thoughts, the sun sets outside, giving way to the moon. He feels you stirring in the bed, stretching, rubbing your eyes. He waits patiently for you to wake, planting soft kisses on your cheeks.

“Hello, my sweet.” He greets you, smiling, his fangs peeking out.

“Someone was eagerly waiting for me to wake up, I see…” You reply, yawning.

“I can’t resist myself watching you sleep. You are adorable. Your open mouth, drooling on the cushion…” He laughs as your cushion lands on his face. “At least I have proof. There is drool all over it!” He throws it back to you, still laughing at your outrage.

“You're a jerk!” You say, joining his laugh. 

“I can be that sometimes, yes.” He rolls over to you and gives you a little nibble on your lower lip, kissing it afterwards with his silky smooth lips. “And you are delicious, and I can't get tired of teasing you.”

He feels you squish him to you, and he smells your hair, filling his senses with your scent mixed with his own. Sometimes he just needs to be like this, like he doesn’t know where he ends and you begin, like you are one. He rests his face in your neck crook and you stay like that for a while, listening to nothing but each other breathing, savoring the moment.

After a while he shifts and faces you. “I want to talk to you, Darling. If it’s alright…” 

You release him of your embrace and he stays side by side with you, lying next to each other. “Of course my love.” You grab one of his hands, placing it next to your chest, and he smiles at your gesture, feeling your heartbeat in his hand. Your heart’s pace soothes him, and he knows that you know that too. 

“While you were sleeping, I tried to rest too, but I couldn’t stop thinking… I thought a lot about my life since the days I was Cazador’s spawn. About the time when we first met. About last night.”

“Oh no, please Astarion… Don’t dwell in that any longer. We settled that, and it is all good.”

“I know, but please let me finish.” He holds your hand tighter. “Yesterday you made me realize that I had enough of the life we have been living. I’m tired. Since we were freed from our tadpoles, we didn’t have the chance to enjoy a real life together because we are always busy trying to find a cure for me. We are always researching or jumping into new cities, catacombs, wild places. I realized we almost didn't spend much time here, in our cottage, in our home. And I’m tired of that. I don’t want to pursue it anymore. As much as I like a good adventure, I think it’s time to give my armor a rest.”

You frown, blinking repeatedly, staring at him, and he sees the confusion in your eyes. “What? But… are you giving up on seeing the sun again? You wanted this so badly!”

“Yes! I wanted to. And I still want it, but not as much as before. I don’t say if the opportunity arises we don’t take it. But I’m done living for it.”

“Are you sure?” 

“I am, my love.” He is peaceful and resolved with his decision. He never has been so sure. 

“If that is really what you want… you are not doing this because of me, are you?”

“No, no, no! Darling, don’t think that, please. I’m doing this for me. Yesterday you told me something that will be forever deep in my heart because no one ever said anything so precious and meaningful to me before. And it made me understand that what I really want is to live! You see, all of my life I had to fight because there wasn't any other way. Now I don’t have to do that anymore. Now, all I want is to have a real life with you, my sweet! I will give you that. You already gave me so much… that is my gift to you.” 

He can see your inner struggle. First, you give him an understanding look, but seconds later he detects some sadness. 

“You are giving up on something so important to you, again. For so long you wanted it. You’re going to regret it…” In that instant, tears start to build up along your waterline, finding their way down your face.

Astarion offers you a tender smile, wiping your tears with his thumb, gently caressing your cheeks. “I won’t. I need this. I need to settle. To call this place home. A real home, and not just some place where we spend some free time. A place where I know I will always find you, waiting for me, always ready to brighten my darkest nights if I ever stumble to get lost in them again… And I need you by my side on this.”

“But I am. I am always on your side! No matter what. You know that.”

“Good. Because there is something else I wanted to ask you.” He sits on the bed and brings you to sit in front of him. He holds your hands, and his fingers start twitching. Now he is nervous.

“I thought of asking you this before, but never got the courage to do it…” Because I was afraid of what you might answer. Because I thought I wasn’t enough. But I am not afraid anymore, not with you, never with you. I am worthy. “And I think now is the right time to ask. Will you marry me?” He says, after a deep breath. “Will you be my wife?”

You gaze at him, surprised. He feels a shiver running through his spine. He can hear your heart beating in such a frenzy—are you nervous too? Was it too soon? Did he expect more than you actually wanted to give him? No, no! I am worthy!

“Darling, don’t leave me waiting. My undead heart can’t take it any longer.” 

“I’m… I’m sorry, Love. I was just caught off guard.”

“And?” His hands are shaking, and he tries to control it, but he finds himself not able to control his emotions around you more often than he would like to admit. He waits anxiously for your answer.

“I can’t think of anything that would make me happier! I always wanted it, but I never proposed because I didn’t want to put any kind of pressure on you. So, I never asked. But I want it! I want it so badly!” In that instante, you leap to his lap, hugging his neck, making him tumble on his back on the bed. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“By the Gods woman… do you want to kill me?!” You feel his tension vanishing from his shoulders. Astarion kisses the crown of your head as you bury your face in his chest. He holds you like you are the most precious thing. Because for him you really are.

“I would never! I just wasn’t expecting this! I barely had the time to wake up… you could have waited a little longer, but you are a very impatient man, are you not?”

“You know me.” He is so lucky to have bumped into you. He is so lucky to have you. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. I am worthy.

“Silly…” You giggle as you look at him. 

“I am, but don’t you think I am doing this just because I like you. Well, of course I love you, and I want to make you the happiest woman that has ever lived! And I will, that is a promise. But like you told me, you are mine, and I couldn't lose the opportunity to show to all of Faerun that the most perfect woman is my wife, and that I, Astarion, the most beautiful man, am your husband.” He says with a smirk on his face.

“You're hopeless, you know? And I love you!” 

He winks at you and holds your chin to lift your head, planting a slow kiss on your temple. “Darling, some things never change.”

[lucyskywalker]

I’m actually very curious to know why you don’t like jonsa! my reasons for example are: their fandom is acting way too insane for a ship that never happened and won’t ever happen; kit harington is unfortunately ugly. what are yours?

There are so many reasons that I dont even know how to begin with.

Alright. Let's go.

1st reason: It is only solely based on the show, and I really mean that. When you get to read metas and posts surrounding the ship, u realize these people never opened the books, while traying to pretend they did. I'm not being entitled. It is just obvious with what they write. Everything is taken out of contest. Especially surrounding Jon's pov and his lack of relationship with Sansa.

+ I despise the show. The only good thing about D&D's creations were the Dragons CGI and the dothraki and valyrian language, and it ends there. Out of it, everything sucks. They have rewrote all the female character in such a sexist and ridiculous way that I can't even start explaining for you.

2nd. I ship jonrya. Ik it is not everyone's cup of tea, but I do. And no. Idc if they become canon or not. I like the concept. I love their relationship. And I love what they can become. Now why the fact I ship Jonrya actually matters? Well, specially after season 7, a lot of Jonsa fans started taking things from Jon PIV that were about his love for Arya, and make it be about Sansa, with ridiculous excuses for their takes. The most commun and easy example being "What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?" When Jon asks Melissandre, he is referring to Arya. And no. It is not a different interpretation. It is about Arya he is talking about. Another one was "Would you bed your sister?" And Again Jon thinks about Arya, but when you read Jonsa's metas; they say he is thinking about Sansa. Another common Jonsa take is that Jon died for his men in the books, or for Sansa, when again, this is not the case. He died for Arya. And that is explicit on the text with no room for other interpretation. No wonder why the last thing he tought was about her.

Jonsas straigh up lie about what happens in the books to support their takes, or they just read metas here on tumblr and believe it. Idk and neither do I wish to know.

Not only that. They started behaving as they had a moral high ground over jonerys and jonryas... when they don't, it is still incestuos and still problematic to modern standards - not only that, they behave entitled to this day, and attack Jonrya shippers and Jonerys shippers in a real coward way.

Many, many times, I received anon hate telling me to *kms*, slit my wrists. Someone even wished for me to get raped over a fictional ship.

My disdain over the ship is not only with the ship itself, hence taking a lot of Jon's dynamic and bound with Arya to give it to Sansa, which is really important in both of their stories and arc, but mostly about the fandom, and how I was affected by it. If it was treated only like a crackship (what book wise, actually is), as my beloved hitsukarin from bleach, I would have no problem with it.

But the community is far one of the most toxic ones I have ever seen or been in contact with. Actually, dealing with them heavily impacted my mental health.

3rd. I really didnt like Sansa way before dealing with the fandom. Since my favorite is Arya, the way Sansa treated her never vibed with me. (And no. It isn't normal sibling behavior. I am an older sister. I would never do half of the things Sansa have done, not even on 11). After book 1, I felt pity for her, but she still was the last interesting character for me, even if her Vale story was.... I guess, more berable.

After getting into the fandom, tho, Jonsas and Stansas ruined Sansa for me in every possible way as well to the point I read her chapters and I won't feel any kind of enjoyment in her journey or her character. She is my least liked character, not because "she is the most horrible person in the books" (she is not. She is far from being that. ) but because her fans made me feel terribly bitter about her. It is not logical or fair, but again, I'm not trying to be.

[oleander-nin]

Horrortober Day 17- Home(Yandere TMNT 2012 Raph x Reader)

A/N, not important: Guys I rewrote this one eight times I hate it so much but if I have to spend any more time on it I'm going to explode. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Kidnapping, loss of autonomy, dark themes, yandere themes

Words: 993

Summary: Raph needs you to calm down and accept your new home

Raph paces in front of you, his face screwed into a scowl as he grumbles under his breath. Your knees were tucked to your chest, your heart pounding and nerves shot. He could still envision your panicked screams that erupted from your lips when you first woke, your eyes wide once you realized you were stuck. Your screams had died down by now, only small breaths of panic leaving you, but it was still too much for him. He never thought you would be scared of him. Sure, waking up chained where you didn’t fall asleep was scary, but the way you looked at him still broke his heart.

Raph’s hands twitched at his sides, the familiar anger bubbling up and dragging him down. You had no right to be scared. He’d never hurt you. Sure, he blew his lid sometimes, and sure, he shouted at you when you woke up, but you screamed first! It wasn’t fair that you were this panicked when you had only woken up in his room. You’d done it hundreds of times before, so what if this time you can’t leave? Can’t you see he’s just protecting you? Raph’s scowl deepens, still pacing in front of you as he tries to decide what he wants to do with you. He wanted to take this slow, to not hurt you or scare you for the first week at least, but he apparently already screwed that one up. He watches as you fiddle with the chain around your ankle, small stings of fear and worry biting at your heart. He still hadn’t explained what was going on, and while your screaming stopped, your panic had not.

“Raph?” You ask meekly, waiting for his head to turn to look at you before continuing. Raph hesitates, then meets your eyes. He scans your face and tries not to frown at the fear in your eyes, knowing that the thing you were scared of was him.

“Yes?” He grunts, toxic green eyes staring you down. He tries to relax his posture and fix his face, hoping that the more open he looked, the less scared you would be. It doesn’t seem to help much, as you still shake under his gaze. 

“What’s going on?” You ask, your voice slightly less shaky as you gain back your usual confidence. You straighten your back and lean forward, no longer looking at the chains keeping you from fleeing. While your chest was still rising faster than normal, you had mostly calmed down, the fear slowly being replaced with confusion and hesitance. Raph wasn’t even sure if you were fully aware you were being kidnapped, and not being subjected to a weird game that he and his brothers were roping you into.

“I’m keeping you.” Raph says bluntly, unsure how else to put it. He figures he could tell you how he finds you the most wonderful thing in the universe, and that he’d do anything to keep you safe and by his side, but that would be too many words, and way too personal. You didn’t need to know how obsessed he was with you. He didn’t want you trying anything stupid.

You look at him strangely, as if you didn’t believe his words. Raph shifts where he stands, his eyes narrowing while he huffs. He didn’t want to scare you again, but he needed you to understand. You weren’t leaving. You tug at your chains again, frowning. It was clear you were desperately trying to rationalize this, to come up with reason or rhyme for why you woke up chained to his bed. Raph hadn’t touched you yet, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He really hated how loud you could scream.

“I don’t want to play your stupid game Raph.” You grumble, looking up at him with nervous eyes. Raph sighs, realizing you were starting to break down again. He’d probably gag you if you started screaming again.

“Not a game. You’re not leaving. I’m tired of you getting hurt and being in danger.” Raph tries his best to be blunt, to give you as much information while still keeping his feelings close to his chest. He didn’t want to overwhelm you with all that just yet. He was sure you loved him anyway. Why else would you be so calm? You’d always stuck by him, and even commonly stayed over with him. Making you love him was easy, but keeping you quiet would be a problem. He hadn’t even told Leo you were here yet. Raph would forever be glad he had the foresight enough to wait until his brothers were off with Casey and April to bring you home.

Raph watches your eyes closely, frowning as the fear returns. You chew on your cheek, you form small and closed off as you tug at the chain. You were confused and worried, unsure what all this meant. Raph wasn’t sure how to console you, shifting uncomfortably as he realizes he might have to help you deal with your emotions. He wanted you to feel safe, not scared.

He moves forward and reaches his hand out towards your face, his eyes darkening when you flinch back on instinct. He reaches forward and grabs the collar of your shirt tugging you forward. “I’m not scary. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

You whimper, eyes wide and full of the fear that he hated to see. He knew it would take a while before you fully realized how he was telling the truth. Raph sighs and lets go, watching you fall back onto his bed. You stay silent, keeping your breathing calm as you scratch at your arms. Raph exhales slowly, leaning back against the wall across from you so he could watch you process. He would wait, and silence any scream that escapes you. He would be patient with you. He had all the time in the world now that you were fully his.

[ghostfanwriter]

✨🍓 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 🍓✨

🍓 Pairing: Joel Miller x Younger Fem!Reader

✨ Setting: No outbreak au.

🍓 Synopsys: Technology gets the best of Joel, and he ends up with a ton of strawberries. Thankfully — as he would say — half of them are yours.

✨ Features: Joel being clueless about technology; A bunch of fluff and Joel doing his best to annoy reader; Flirting; Slight thigh riding at the end (real quick, I promise).

🍓 Word count: A but over 1.2k

✨ About this: This was originally written for another person, and maybe you've even read it already, but...

🍓 Author's Note:... I love it a lot, and it gives me Joel-dealing-with-technology vibes. So I rewrote a few parts (because girly wasn't that good neither) and decided to give it to you all 🩷

The early morning sunlight gently lightens up your living room.

You're on your yoga mat practicing when your YouTube video is interrupted with a phone call.

It's Joel, and considering he's always finding reasons to call you, you don't find it strange.

You answer with a sweet and dragged "Hii".

"Hey baby, are you home?" You notice his voice slightly breathy.

"Yeah, doing some yoga, why?"

It takes him a second too long to respond, but when he does...

"Does that mean you're in yoga pants?" He asks, and you can see his grin on the other side of the phone.

"No. That means I'm still in my pijamas." You play along with it.

You love it.

"Oh, that's even better." He says, and you laugh.

Joel can sometimes be... Something else.

He is this overworked and low-key grumpy middle aged man who seems to almost exclusively be in a bad mood. But no matter how hard you try — and quite honestly, you were certainly not trying — to hate the man, you just can't.

The only times you've ever seen him smile were when he was with his daughter.

And he seems to each day be less and less in a bad mood since you two got together.

"Why does it sound like you're running?" You ask, as he grunts and his breathing gets even more laborious.

"Oh, I'm walking actually, just left the grocery store." He says.

"Are you coming over?" You ask, thinking of why he didn't go to his house, or took his car instead of walking to your place.

"Yeah, I'm gonna give you some strawberries."

Strawberries?

"Why are you bringing me strawberries?" You ask, chuckling.

"I've bought too many, and I won't need all of them. So I'm giving them to you!" He says enthusiastically.

And part of you believe him, but part of you certainly doesn't. You just can't tell when he's being honest and when he's messing with you.

"Oh, alright. Waiting for you then." You say sweetly.

You're gonna let him think he's fooling you.

"Be right there to help you out with those shorts." He answers.

Not even five minutes after you spoke to Joel on the phone, your interphone rings.

You answer it, and the doorman greets you by your last name.

"Hi, Miss. Joel is down here, can I let him up?"

"Hi, hum... does he have something with him?" You ask, trying to find out if he wasn't lying to you.

"Hum, he has two boxes." The doorman answers.

"Big boxes?" You ask.

"Kinda big, yes. He looks a bit tired too." He adds, whispering the last part so Joel wouldn't hear it.

"Tired from carrying these over!" You hear Joel's voice shout in the distance.

You hear the doorman and Joel laugh.

"Ask him what's inside the boxes, please."

"Right. Sir, what's inside the boxes?"

"Oh, she knows what's inside the boxes. Strawberries! Just let me go up, c'mon!" Joel shouts again, loud enough for you to hear.

"Can I let him up?" The poor doorman asks.

"Yes, let him up. Thank you, sorry for the whole thing." You say, apologetically.

"It's alright, miss. I've gotten used to the two of you." He says laughing.

"Ask her to wait for me with the door open, please, these are kinda heavy." Joel asks the doorman, his voice enough to reach the interphone.

"Sure. Did you hear that, miss?" He asks.

"Yeah, I did, thank you. Will be waiting. Have a nice day, thanks and sorry again!"

"My pleasure, have a nice day too!" He says and hangs up.

You open your apartment door and look at the elevator, that stays almost in front of it. Not even a minute later, it stops and the door opens, revealing a heavy breathing Joel, holding two huge boxes of strawberries.

"Hey." He says casually, grinning — or was him laughing at the confused expression in your face?

"What...?" You whisper, looking at the boxes.

"Let me in, they're heavy." He pants and you let him enter, closing the door behind you.

"Why did you buy all these strawberries?"

"Not important." He dismisses you. "Remember how I said I was gonna give you half the strawberries I bought?"

"Yes?" You ask, dragging the word, afraid of the answer.

He looks at you, then at the box. Then at you again, a wide smile on his face.

You get it, but deep down you don't want to believe it.

"I'm actually giving you almost all of it!"

"WHAT?!" You almost yell.

"I know!" He almost yells back.

"Joel why did you buy all these strawberries?"

"Because I know how much you love strawberries!" He says while going to the other side of your island, sitting on one of your stools.

He is laughing and you just know he is lying straight to your face.

"Joel, there are two boxes, each of five kilograms of strawberries on top of my counters. You don't want me to believe you thought I would have any recipe that requires fucking ten kilograms of strawberries, did you?"

"See? Means you can make more than one recipe!" He says, laughing.

"JOEL?!" You almost scream, trying not to laugh, biting the smile forming on your lips.

"Smoothies, cakes, pies, strawberry covered with chocolate, you love those!" He says, and you take a deep breath, not believing the man in front of you.

"Joel! How did you end up with all these strawberries?" You ask, breathing deeply to stay calm and not laugh anymore.

Nor jump on his neck.

He hesitates a bit before answering.

"I bought them using the app you told me about." He starts. "But I didn't know how it worked, so I got the sizes wrong, and when I received them at home... I didn't know what to do." He admits, his cheeks red.

"You said you were coming from the grocery store." You say, confused.

"Lied. Thought you would maybe believe that it was a surprise…?" He says, shrugging, his big brown eyes glistening while he looked at you.

You were holding your laugh inside this whole time. But now, seeing the defeated look in his face, you can't help but burst into laughter.

He stares at you.

"What?" He asks, his own embarrassed laugh slipping in.

"How did you mistake the sizes?"

"I thought I was buying two boxes of 500 grams, not 5 kilograms. It was one for me and Sarah and one for you." He says, laughing a bit at his own mistake. "I was thinking you could make her ice cream and that cake she likes. And then there would still be some left for you." He pauses. "But now there's gonna be a lot left from it." He laughs.

You think it's adorable that he was actually buying one box for each of you.

That he wants you to bake for Sarah.

You walk towards him, cupping his face in your hands.

"I would have loved to see the delivery person's face when you saw the boxes." You say and laughs, thinking about how confused he must have looked.

"Sarah saw it, she said it was pretty funny." He admits, laughing.

"How can you be so silly, old man?" You ask, running your fingers through his soft, slowly greying hair.

"Don't know, maybe I was thinking about you when I bought the boxes. Got distracted." He grabs your hips, pulling you closer, placing his right thigh in between your legs.

"Oh, it's my fault, then?" You ask, rolling your hips softly, rubbing yourself on him.

"Kinda, yeah." He smiles.

"And how can I make it up to you?" You ask, pulling his hair softly.

"Well, you know… maybe… I don't know… you could help me clear my mind." He suggests, squeezing your hips.

"Would love to." You say before kissing your man.

You truly love just how... Unpredictable Joel can be sometimes.

Hope you liked it, it brings a smile to my face everytime I read it.

Have a nice day, besties 🩷

Masterlist 🩷

[thatbigbisexual29]

It’s Only Funny When I Do It (ATSV)

Hello friends! I have written again! This one was surprisingly hard for some reason?? I had a certain line I wanted to use (credit to @giggly-squiggily​ thanks bestie!) but I had no idea how to write to that point. I think I erased and rewrote... 12 times?? But, I finally figured it out! I hope you all enjoy this one as much as the last! Also I know it isn’t a lot compared to other fics, BUT ITS OVER 100 NOTES NOW THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!! I can’t believe so many people liked my silly fic, it makes me feel so nice and accomplished. Anyways, hope you guys have fun with this one! :)

Miles was in trouble. Why did he start a truth or dare game with Gwen? Why did he say dare? Why did he commit to this stupid prank?!? He was dead. Even as he swung frantically through Brooklyn, New York to escape the madman chasing him, he knew deep in his heart that he was dead.

“MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILES!” Hobie bellowed after him, swinging towards him with a fiery anger in his chest.

“I’m sorry!! I thought it would be harmless! Gwen dared me to do it, go after her!” Miles shouted back. He desperately swooped through alleyways and cars, hopping over buses and roofs, doing everything in his power to escape the punk spider. But he just couldn’t shake the furious man.

“I’ll get ‘er AFTER I’M DONE KILLIN’ YOU!” Hobie barked. The older male swung up, twirling in a backflip, then shot a line of webbing towards Miles. It caught his back and Hobie yanked, causing Miles to lose his momentum and fall. Hobie was quick though, pulling the webbing closer so the younger man didn’t plummet to his death. He swung up to a nearby building and tossed Miles onto the concrete roof, watching him tumble onto his back.

“Ow! Ey, ey, EY! Chill! Let’s talk about this! Don’t you love talking??” Miles rambled in a panic, quickly backing away from the rapidly approaching Punk. Hobie wasted no time with thwipping Miles’ legs to the ground, then his web slingers so he couldn’t try to run away. Miles struggled to free himself with no luck. Finally, Hobie towered over him. It was hard to discern his facial features with his mask on, but his presence emitted rage.

“Miles. You’ve got free seconds to explain why I found DIS in mah flat today.” Hobie kneeled over Miles and held up his guitar. Although, it wasn’t his normal guitar. The strings were instead very poorly taped on pasta noodles. Some of the noodles were boiled, some weren’t, but after their little chase a lot of the noodles didn’t stay on the guitar. It really was a dumb prank and in retrospect, not even that funny.

“Ok, I know that you’re mad…” Miles began.

“Mad? Mad? I’m bloody fumin’, mate! Do ya know how much guitar strings cost?” Hobie growled, angrily slinking his guitar off his back but gently placing it on the floor beside them. 

“No…?”

“Nearly £120! Look me in me eyes and tell me you fink I can afford £120 of strings!” Hobie grabbed both of Miles’ wrists and forced them above his head, thwipping them multiple times to the ground.

“L-Listen! I’m sorry alright?? It was a prank! I didn’t mean to cut your strings I-”

“You cut ‘em?! Those strings were perfect, they were! Ooohoho Miles…” Hobie took a deep breath and sat back on his leg, tightening a fist and trying to calm himself. Miles tugged harder at his restraints but the webbing held true. He knew Hobie would never intentionally hurt him, but he couldn’t deny the nervousness that bubbled in his chest.

“Alright how about this, I’ll buy you new ones! Ok? And even after that I’ll still probably owe you! C’mon man we’re friends! Don’t do whatever violent thing you’re about to do!” the teen bargained, watching the eye lenses on the punk closely. Hobie turned his head back towards his friend and smirked under his mask.

“Me? Doin’ somefin violent? You know me all too well. But I ain’t gon do nofin to ‘urt yous, Miles. But tell me somefin. Your mum’s a nurse, yeah? You know how to stop a bleedin’ wound?” Hobie asked as leaned over the teen, cracking his knuckles and then his neck.  Miles swallowed nervously, attempting to pull his arms down once more before realizing he was screwed.

“You… you put pressure on it…?” he responded with a confused look to the older male. Hobie huffed a small laugh.

“You don’t say. I guess then you know wha’ I’m bouts to do wit these bleedin’ armpits, roight?” And before Miles could think, Hobie tasered his armpits with two fingers in each hollow. Miles barked out an embarrassing high-pitched yelp and fell into a loud cackling fit. He squirmed this way and that but Hobie just stuck to him (hee hee spiderman joke).

“AIIYE!! Gyahahahahaha! Hahahahaha Hobie! Ahahahahahaha whahahahahahat ahahahahahare you dohohohohohoing?!”

“Whas it look like, ya yankee? ‘M gettin’ revenge! As if I’d ‘urt mah protégé, come off it mahn. ‘Old on, dijyou jus snort?” Hobie asked, slightly recoiling at the sound he just heard.

And he was right. Miles had just snorted of all things. This was a big reason the teen avoided tickling or tickle fights because of his laugh. He was just too embarrassed. There were certain spots on his body that would immediately produce snorts, and his armpits were one of them.

“Pfffhehehehehehehahahahahahaha *snort* ahahahahahahaha! Stahahahahahahap ihihihihit! *snort* Nahahahahahahahahaaa! Quihihihihihit! Pleheheheheheheheeeease! *snort snort*” Miles snorted up a storm. He was glad he couldn’t see Hobie’s face because he knew he was smiling ear to ear like the Grinch.

“Ohoho nah mate. This is too good. Ya got a little piggy snort, do ya? Do ya always snort when someone tickles yer pits, eh? That’s hilarious, spidey. Kitchy koo~” Hobie teased as he scribbled all his digits into Miles’ exposed armpits, chuckling as the teen shrieked and snorted again.

“NAHAhahahahahaha! Nohohohoho kihihihihihitchy!” Miles argued, furiously shaking his head back and forth.

“Whas dat? No kitchy koo? Aw Miles, you’re such a lightweight mahn! C’mon mate, jus a few more! Jus a few more an’ I’ll stop wit de teasin’ yeah?” Hobie laughed as Miles shook his head more. He then moved his long fingers to his ribs which earned another yelp from the teen. Hobie couldn’t help but smile wider.

“Too bad! A kitchy kitchy koo~ Kitchy koo Miles!~ Aww, does it tickle? Ah bet it does. You wouldn’t be laughin’ so much overwise. Ain’t you cute? Wit all dese girly giggles an all. Oh mah god, you sound like Mayday! Hah! Tha’s adorable, mate. Does Gwen know about this?” Hobie teased, enjoying how Miles’ squirming turned to thrashing.

“STAHAHAHAHAP! DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHON’T TEHEHEHEHEHEHEHELL! HOHOHOHOHOHOHOBIE PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE! I’M SAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHARRY! LEHEHEHEHEHEHEHET ME UHUHUHUHUHUHUP PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!!” Miles screamed as he arched his back, wildly waving his head around while also trying to hide it behind his restrained arm. 

“‘Old on! You still ‘aven’t learned your lesson!” Hobie chuckled, tasering Miles' side to make him jump. Which he did. While also breaking the sound barrier for a split second with his shrill yelp.

“WHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT IHIHIHIHHIHIHIHHIHIS IHIHIHHIHIHIHIHHIHIHIT??” Miles screamed, almost at his limit. Hobie took note of this, knowing he needed to wrap it up.

“Understan’ dis, Miles. Pranks are only funny when I do ‘em. ‘Ear me?” Miles nodded frantically and Hobie finally backed off and let the teen breathe. Then he realized what would actually help and lifted Miles’ mask over his nose, not revealing his whole face. Miles took in greedy breaths of air as Hobie fished out his pocket knife, slicing away the webbing that held him down.

“Oi, you good? Gonna recover or ‘ave I traumatized ya?” the punk teased. Miles let out a tiny cough and a laugh.

“Nah, I’ll need therapy after what just happened. Consider a lawsuit ramming your ass, Brown,” the teen responded cheekily. Hobie barked out a laugh and shoved his shoulder, falling on his butt (although he played it off like it was intentional).

“You’ll ‘ave to catch me first, Morales. Cheeky bastard,” the punk chuckled and looked into the sun which was now setting over the city. They sat for a moment, Miles calming down with Hobie waiting on him.

“Listen man,” Miles started, “I shouldn’t have done that. I know how important your guitar is to you, and I should have backed out of Gwen’s dare. And I'll get you new strings. We’ll stop at a music store, there’s one not too far, I think,” Miles said, sitting up to face the older male. Hobie looked at him and nodded.

“Yeah, sounds cuppa. You good though, honest? Don’ need a Mickey Bliss or nofin’?” the punk asked as he stood, offering a hand to Miles, who gave him a confused look.

“I seriously have no idea how I understand you.” Hobie snickered and pulled Miles to his feet as the teen pulled his mask over his face. Then, the two heard someone shout ‘help!’ from the road below. They shared a look and nodded. Guitar strings could wait. Though Miles learned a very valuable lesson that day.

Don’t ever prank Hobie unless you want to have a death wish.

[shaunashipman]

your last post made me feel SO SEEN. I loved Bucktaylor but every time I made a post about them I didn’t get anon hate but I IMMEDIATELY saw post on my dash be like “I can’t believe anyone would like Taylor you really must hate Buck” or I liked that Buck went to Hen for the Sperm Donor stuff and everyone said “it makes no sense he should have gone to Eddie”. And I’m not even gonna touch on my favourite episode (6x11) and how fucking pissed I was when people bombed it on imdb because Eddie was not important enough and the many arguments I had on why it was a good episode. So yeah fandom was definitely not the dreamworld people are describing if you didn’t ship buddie.

truly. like I've said I don't like taylor or bucktaylor so you know what I did? I talked about other stuff, I focused on other stuff, I didn't troll through her tag looking for things to mock, and the few posts I made about her were properly tagged and weren't about how I thought she should die for the crime of being part of a ship I didn't like

and don't get me started on making all the other characters' scenes/stories about buddie. within days of the jonah arc finishing multiple ppl were already writing fics with it being buck and eddie instead of hen and chim. can you imagine the attacks and death threats if someone rewrote the tsunami so it was chim who took denny out for the day? if they rewrote the shooting so it was hen who got shot in front of chim?

and this past season, taking every shot of the other characters in the promos and saying "and this is where they tell buck to dump tommy and get with eddie" completely ignoring the very prominent arcs those characters had in those eps. I still remember them taking the henren "what happened" shit in the promo about their adoption hearing being cancelled, and saying it was them asking buck what happened with tommy, meaning they would break up. we knew what henren's storyline was going to be in that ep, but they still ignored it to make the scene about bucktommy breaking up so buck could be told to go get with eddie.

[velvet-vox]

(This post is wrong as all hell. Please, only read the notes and reblogs of this mess.)

The Confession Discourse.

(Imagine lacking so much time and will that you take almost two months to answer one single rebuttal)

This post is simultaneously a follow up to my previous confession on @md-confessions and a response to @oldmanjenkins985 's confession on that same ask blog.

Originally, I wanted this whole argument to be a @md-confessions blog's exclusive thing, but I was too slow, and the confession box was closed, so now, after delaying it for weeks, I've finally decided to make my response to the whole thing, while also keeping some unsaid stuff for myself for when I'll eventually finish writing my giant critique of Doll, who at this point I'm not sure if I want to publish before episode 8 or not. You can find the links to all of the confessions that I'm talking about right above, in the coloured words.

I think that the best way to start this response is by going through @oldmanjenkins985 's confession and rebutting each and every point with my opinion, then I'll start speaking more generally on the whole subject matter while providing the reasons that drove me to make that original confession.

Read and Rebuttal.

"So, basically the way you talk about rewriting the story is that you just want an almost completely different story than the one we got. Getting rid of the school elements? Say goodbye to episode 3 and 4. 2 can still happen but there's some stuff that needs to be cut and stuff to fill those gaps."

Alright, so, to be perfectly clear, I wasn't saying that I wanted an entirely different story than the one we got. Originally, while making that confession, I was under the assumption that it was always Liam's intention to eventually escalate the story to "end of the universe" proportions, and that the reason why he decided to rush so much of the plot was to get to that aforementioned conflict with the Absolute Solver. Therefore, my suggestion was that, since Vickers seemed more interested in the apocalyptic aspects of his story and didn't have the time or resources to flesh out anything else, he should have sacrificed the whole school setting earlier on (since, despite how much I like it, it was kind of useless after the pilot, where it set up Uzi's character and flaws. It was semi useful in ep 2 and 3 to also set up Doll's character, but I'm currently advocating her erasure, so those instances don't matter to our argument) and just went straight to the things that he actually wanted to tell.

However, as I've learned more about the production history of this show, I no longer believe that to be the case; the Absolute Solver was always a planned thing, but not in the way it is currently iterated; I'm sure Liam rewrote the entire plot so many times, that, whatever he had in mind at the beginning, it's so wildly different from the final product that it might as well be a completely different show.

The school elements were probably very relevant to the first few drafts, but in the final take, they are completely disregardable, and I know that because the show itself quickly disregards a lot of those elements in episode 4, so this isn't even an idea I came up with in my spare time, Murder Drones itself instilled this notion in my head to begin with.

"but 3 and 4 not happening AT ALL like they do, that would have serious ripple effects."

Duh, that's what happens when you change a part of your story, it usually changes your whole story, even if in minor ways.

My main goal here was to make the story of Murder Drones simpler so that it better sticks to the eight 20 minutes long episodes.

In his current form, the story of Murder Drones is too big to be fleshed out in an eight-episode season, we aren't even sure if there'll be a season 2, and even if there was, season 1 is so crammed already that episodes 6, 7, and most likely 8 feel like the ending of a second season to me; that's just how crazy the pacing is.

"And episode 5/6 would probably go down differently as well since Doll wouldn't be there to steal the keybug."

Have you ever wondered why Doll didn't steal the keybug back in episode 4 when Uzi found it in that abandoned warehouse? Neither N nor V were there to help Uzi in case Doll decided to do the same thing that she did to Cyn in episode 6; Doll didn't even need to go straight into the Cabin Fever's labs (even if that's exactly what she ended up doing in ep 6), she could have just simply disappeared into the woods; the main gang doesn't know where her hideout is, therefore, she could have just stalled with the keybug until she figured out a trap or a setup (the one thing she has been consistently excelling at) to get rid of the trio (at least temporarily) and enter Cabin Fever labs to find what she was looking for.

So, why doesn't she do it? Well, it's simple: it's because she doesn't know what the keybug does at this point of the story.

Doll only learns about the secrets hiding down in the elevator shaft off camera through Tessa, who then engages her to steal the keybug from Uzi in episode 5.

Therefore, excluding the fact that yes, episode 2 through 6 would play out differently, Doll, in regards to her choice to steal the bug, it's only a tool for Cyn; and while this wouldn't feel like it if the show was better paced, due to the fact that our protagonists immediately teleport to the labs, and the way her arc plays out in the next two episodes, she also feels like a tool for the plot as well.

Again, all of this would have been perfectly fine with better pacing or more spotlight on Doll as a character, but that wasn't the case, so moving on:

"And Doll just being a plot device and not a character? Don't even get me started on that."

She is a character and a plot device, a lot of fictional characters are simultaneously plot devices, especially protagonists and antagonists, the trick stems in the writer's ability of masking the second component and, ideally, even the first.

Storytelling is all about manipulation; how capable you are to make the audience buy the events being told even if they are completely fake.

Some characters achieve this narrative illusion almost perfectly, while others like Doll are harder to pass by if their writing doesn't hold up.

You can fault me for my excessive scrutiny, but I'm going to explain how I got to this point at the end of the rebuttal.

"She's one of the most tragic and well written characters of the show and I LOVE her.

If it was just for that, I love her as well, but I don't find her to be one of the most well written characters in the show, far from it; I actually consider her to be a hot writing mess, though that doesn't stop me from thinking about her basically every single day.

Do I find her to be one of the most tragic characters in the show? Objectively speaking, no. A lot of other characters had it worse than her, Alice and Beau are technically more tragic characters than Doll, as they never had any other choice at every single turn. V had it worse, N had it worse, Cyn had it worse, Tessa had it worse, heck, you can easily make the argument that J of all people had it worse than Doll. By comparison, if you lack the emotional intelligence to understand that, just because one person's trauma is worse than someone else's it doesn't mean that the other person's trauma doesn't matter, as all life scarring experiences affect us in an indiscernible way, that invalidates certain statements such as "well that person clearly had it worse than you, yet you became a sh####er person than them, so your trauma doesn't matter because you could have just simply overcame it like that one person did, but you didn't because you were always a jerk", Doll just looks like a giant a#####e.

Is her tragedy the one that affected me the most? (Looks back at the several months of emotional damage preceding and succeeding her death) Yes.

I feel like that's partially due to how much I personally relate to Doll, but even if I am fully willing to admit that V's entire life story is technically far more sad than Doll's, I just have way more traits in common with Doll, plus it also helps the fact that Doll (to me) is the most down to earth character in the entire cast. Her serious demeanor may alienate her from the show's tone, but it helps her to be more likable to me, as she, more than any other character, feels like a real world person that reacts accordingly to all of the nonsense and murder happening around her. We don't get enough of the human characters for me to feel like: "Yeah, this guy is definitely me if I was in Murder Drones, I would do the same things and react in the same way to all the horrors happening around me". I like Uzi's and Tessa's quirkiness, and I could be considered a weird-boy even if I never was ostracized in school or emotionally neglected by my parents, but I don't personally relate to their antics and their comedic reactions to the horror moments pale in comparison to Doll's genuine reactions to pretty much anything. Also, while all Murder Drones fans can claim to share some traits with N and V, none of them can really say that they personally relate to being a disposable slave; therefore points to Doll being the most grounded Murder Drones character.

So yeah, Doll is a very tragic antagonist, but I am a Wakfu fan, thus I know the secret ingredients behind a truly magnificent sympathetic villain, and I can say that Doll lacks a lot of the pieces that make someone like Nox such a heart breaking rollercoaster of emotions. Of course, I wouldn't expect you to know what I'm talking about since Wakfu is a pretty obscure franchise, I'm only mentioning it for propaganda reasons, but nonetheless, I'm pretty confident in saying that I know what differentiates a good sympathetic villain from a truly great one; Doll has a lot of pieces of the latter but she ends up falling into the former due to various reasons, most noticeable reason of all being that she never feels like the protagonist of her own story, just a side character that refused to remain as such.

Loving her doesn't stop me from thinking about her critically. Soon we are going to discuss what her place in the narrative is and why it doesn't work in the way it was intended to.

"Her flaws especially."

I would really like to open up a tangent here, but I feel like that's a discussion for another day; so sure, you love her flaws, go on.

"She's very much a mirror to Uzi. Both had their parents (or parent in Uzi's case) get killed by disassembly drones, both are infected with the Solver, and both want to figure out what the hell it is and how to fix themselves. The difference between the two, is that Doll SAW V rip her parents apart while laughing."

There are way more differences than that, but I'm sure you already knew that, sorry for being incapable to pick up on sarcasm.

"Uzi was likely only a baby when Nori died, and even if she wasn't she didn't personally see her die."

I have nothing to say here, but I thought that it would be better to separate this sentence from the next one, just to narrow down the focus.

"That was what let her get over her grudge, because she had a grudge against a concept, while Doll had a grudge against a person."

This sentence doesn't make any sense to me. People can absolutely have a grudge against a concept, and Doll's hatred for the Disassembly Drones being targeted rather than vague like Uzi's hatred is (even if Uzi doesn't hate the Disassembly Drones, though I'm not sure what that scene with Uzi in episode 2 "The humans sent you without a communication relay and reformatted your memories to soup. Covering their tracks means that they are past negotiating. Not like they tried negotiating with my mum" was supposed to mean. Uzi in general is such a strange character to me, weird-girl my a##, Uzi stans, your daughter is straight up an enigma) it's not what allowed one to get over their grudge compared to the other.

One example of this is Bradford Buzzard from the DuckTales remake: he was traumatised as a kid by her strict grandma, who forced him to go on dangerous adventures with her, so when he grew up started hating the entire concept of adventures, and sought for a way to eliminate all unpredictable elements from the world and his life. This is only one example but you get the idea.

To be fair, you did mention the fact that you were tired when you started writing this, so I'm pretty sure that you weren't reflecting carefully when you wrote this part, plus once a confession is sent you can't correct it anymore, as such, I believe you would have probably changed this sentence if you taught about it a little longer. Therefore, I'll just let this one slide.

"Doll continuously decides to work by herself as a result, unable to overcome her hatred for V (very understandably mind you)."

Absolutely, screw all those people who said that Doll was being unreasonable by not joining sides with Uzi, 90% of all normal human beings wouldn't want to stay anywhere close to their parents murderer, especially Doll, who for some reason is the most realistic member of the cast, even if she isn't human. Plus, if you believe the theory that Doll's parents were killed during the pilot (there are some plot holes in the timeline of events for both this theory and the "child Doll saw her parents die" theory, but that's something for another day), then it's technically Uzi the one who created her rival, which would contradict the "Doll is completely consumed by revenge" allegations, as Doll weirdly enough sympathizes with Uzi and *insert here a giant analysis of Lizzie's line in Episode 3 "Dude, no one is gonna notice she is missing. Just do your thing, and I'll let in V" and how many questions it raises* despite her knowing that she was the one to let in her parents killer.

But ok, this is completely unrelated, let's move on.

"This ultimately ends up getting her killed because she alone could not take on the Solver, a threat we time and time again have seen to only be stoppable when people work together against it. When Uzi and N work together in ep 2, Doll protecting Lizzy in the same episode, in ep 4 when N helps Uzi regain control, in ep 7 when Nori and N fight back against possessed Uzi. Then think about all the times it succeeded. In ep 5 at the Gala it had Tessa alone, in ep 7 it had N and Uzi on the ropes when they were alone, in ep 4 when Uzi was on a rampage and V was trying to kill her rather than help her."

Uh uhm.

"Doll's death doesn't ruin her character, it IS her character (might be overexaggerating there but I really liked that sentence). Tragedy and bad choices stemming from reasonable thinking. A result of her going alone, trusting nobody."

I don't know what to say here.

At first I was like "Ehhhhhhhhh, you are kinda right but not in a positive way" but then I realised that there are a lot of right and wrong things in this paragraph, and in order to pick them apart I would have to go through a massive side tangent that would take focus away from the rest of the confession, as such, I'm just going to leave this as it is and maybe I will address it in a future post.

"Also, we don't even know that she's dead! Yes, it's likely she is, but Cyn only swallowed her core. It's possible it gets thrown up in ep 8 and she gets to continue living."

We'll see, but if I was the one who killed Doll in such a dramatic and gruesome way I wouldn't have her revived right away in the following episode, where there are already a lot of ongoing plot lines that need to be tied up; nor would I do this if I want for the stakes to remain high.

Sorry for bumming down your optimism, but I really struggle to see how Doll could possibly bounce back up when she was just brutally executed in the most anticlimactic way possible.

"Don't judge her before the season is done."

I will judge Doll based on what's already present in the episodes because I have very valid reasons to believe that her arc was being made up as the story went on; planner and pantsie are two different terms used to identify the writing style of a writer, the former is for writers who spend time planning out the various aspects of their stories before releasing them, the latter is for writers who make up their story as they go along; both writing styles have their advantages and disadvantages, and writers can actually adoperate both simultaneously if they need to, and that's what Liam Vickers did: he planned out a lot of aspects of his series (at least in the final rewrite), like the Tessa reveal and the Solver mystery, and made up other aspects as the episodes went along, like Doll's entire storyline.

Getting the obvious differences in characterisation between Pilot and series Doll out of the way, have you ever wondered why we get the reveal that Doll's parents have died both in episode 2 and 3? It would have been a lot better if it was just revealed to us in The Promening, after all Liam's writing is hardly ever on the nose when it comes to this type of stuff, why repeat to the audience information that they already know?

That scene with Lizzy and Doll in episode 2 is in general one of the most forced scenes in the show; it serves his purpose of setting up Doll and Lizzie's characters alright, but it doesn't make a lot of sense if you start peeling away at its layers for a while.

I can and will judge Doll as she is right now if her story was being made up as the show went along, I've seen good pantsie writing in my life, and I can usually tell at which point the writer lost sight of his original idea and it's starting to fall apart.

"If you like the series how it is, Doll and the school elements are VITAL. Irreplacable. And if you really don't like how the series went, as it seems you do considering you think it'd be better if the entire thing was rewritted, make a fanfiction"

I like how the series is, but I really like how Murder Drones could have been.

Ideally, in a perfect universe, we would get two 20 episodes long seasons that set up all of the things that have happened in these 8 episodes and also give us plenty of time to flesh out all of the cast, the world, and look at side stories that reinforce the main themes of the series or give us some breathing room between the big events.

Of course, we don't live in that perfect universe; we only have 8 episodes to tell a story, thus, we need to be very thoughtful of what we put inside the plot because we don't have a lot of time to flesh everything out.

Probably, for the story that Liam wanted to tell, 16 or 12 episodes would have been enough, even if it still seems a little bit scuffed, but again, we don't have those, and he should have paid more attention to that fact.

We'll circle back at this in just a moment.

"Whew, that was...a lot. I think you can tell I really like this show. Again, I apologize if I come off as rude or pompous or whatever."

No problems. You sounded genuine.

"I'm just very passionate about the show. I don't think it doesn't have flaws, it is rushed and Liam isn't one for super fine worldbuilding details, but ultimately those barely affect it for me. They dock like, half a point combined for me."

And if that's the case, good for you. I'm happy that you can still enjoy the show the way it is because I've become pretty miserable as a result of picking apart all of its flaws and wishing for them to not exist.

The real Reasons.

Now that I have taken apart all of the individual pieces of the confession, it's finally time for me to provide you with some answers.

The main reason why I wrote that original confession was because of this Other confession, that basically pointed out the fact that confessions as a whole started s#####g ass, and it got me into questioning if I could write something better.

I had a couple of ideas I wanted to discuss, and threw a couple of them into that original text, hoping that it would live up to my standards. @oldmanjenkins985 read it, disagreed with what it had to say, and that's how we've got to this point.

As I have stated in the first part of my rebuttal, I used to believe that Liam Vickers was so interested in his end of the universe storyline that he wanted to go for it at any cost, even if that meant skipping important character work and rushing through most of the plot points he had in mind.

With that assumption, I thought that all the other ideas, like Doll, Alice, Beau and the sentinels, were just things that Liam came up with as production progressed and thought they were too cool to disregard, so he kept them. He kept them even if he didn't have the time to flesh them out or the courage to simplify his story so that we, the audience, wouldn't feel robbed.

I really love Doll.

I can't stress this enough, I love Doll way more than I love Murder Drones.

But exactly because I love her so much, I need to keep her at harm's length; she's not a real person, she's a fictional character, and as such, she can and should be eliminated from the story if the final product would benefit from it.

I'm someone who's willing to make the necessary sacrifices for the sake of art, even if it means eliminating good ideas that can't be done justice in their execution, and I believe Doll to be the biggest example of this due to her own niche role in the narrative and how said niche exists only because of her.

Let me explain: Doll is the main side antagonist of the first season of the show.

Let me repeat that: Doll is the main, SIDE antagonist, of the first season of Murder Drones.

You don't just "make" a side antagonist and drop it into the story because he's important, no, you have to consciously make room for their existence because they are not as necessary to the story as the protagonists, the supporting characters, or the main antagonist. The niche that Doll fills in the story is one that innately benefits her and her only, so she needs extra character work to make sure that she feels connected and important to everything else going on.

Alice and Beau are roadblocks, you could say that they had a lot of untapped potential, but the show never teased us with said potential in the way that it teased us with Doll's, so they don't feel like wasted characters because that's all they were ever meant to be.

I would cut Lizzie and Alice out of the story to give Doll more development, but I wouldn't cut Doll out of the story to give Lizzie and Alice more development.

Two out of three fulfill their roles decently and extra screen time isn't mandatory, the third one has a role that exists only to benefit them and as such they should be given the necessary screen time to make their presence not feel like a burden.

Another thing that I've noticed while writing "The insane, untapped potential of Rebecca from Murder Drones" (which I encourage everyone reading this to check out, as I consider it to be my masterpiece), is that Doll doesn't really tie all that well into any of the themes of abuse present in the show; sure, there's her relationship with Lizzy, but you can interpret that in a miriad of ways, some of which being more healthy than the others, and a lot of them even positioning Doll as the abuser and Lizzy as the still guilty yet repented victim.

Side antagonists or just general side characters whose stories are focused on exist to expand the themes or the world of the setting, and they need to be included into the narrative only if you have the time to focus on them, otherwise they need to remain on the concept board.

My obsession with Doll isn't a temporary fluke, it's going to carry on for the rest of my life.

But guess what? I've been hyper obsessed with a lot of things in my life, Murder Drones being one of them; when the dust will be settled, the only thing that will matter is the quality of the actual show, and in his current state that future isn't looking so bright.

I've seen a lot of Murder Drones creators losing a lot of interest for the show after episode 7, and I myself have lost my suspension of disbelief after having lots of time to internalise it.

I'm not sure if anyone reading this has noticed it yet, but ever since episode 7, the world of Murder Drones has become ten times smaller. We've erased Tessa, the school setting, JCJenson and Doll from the equation; many people now believe that the planet is going to be destroyed and only the most relevant characters will survive its collapse, thus eliminating the entire worker drones society from the plot; all human life is most likely dead and the planet Earth was revealed to have been destroyed back in episode 6; it really feels like with every passing installment the Murder Drones universe just keeps getting smaller as the stakes get higher, and I don't think that's a good thing, it actively harms the potential and creativity of Murder Drones as a series, and it makes it harder for the fear of the unknown to have any sort of impact when the universe is so claustrophobic that it's far easier to assume that all of the undiscovered mysteries are just the angles of the room.

If I had to compare Murder Drones to any other series, I would say that the Epic Mickey franchise is the best way to describe how I feel about it.

Both series are a collection of pretty cool concepts and have a lot of angsty and edgy material as a part of their world building, and both of them execute some of their individual ideas perfectly while the overall product misses the mark of a masterpiece.

And while Epic Mickey is held back by the poor gameplay of both installments and the poor writing of the second one, Murder Drones is held back by a lack of focus and restraint from his creator.

People often point to the founders of Glitch when they try to justify the rushed pacing of the story, but in my opinion, if the higher ups of Glitch were truly responsible for their show's shortcomings, at this point at least one of the members of the crew should have made us aware, and this reasoning still doesn't take away the blame from Liam, as he still has mostly unchecked creative freedom.

Remember that video on Liam's official YouTube channel titled "So I've been given too much creative power and made a show"?

Well, you know what the saying says.

"With great power comes great responsibility"

And this is true even for art.

[caffeinatedattorney]

I just finished watching someone's playthrough of Arkham Shadow.

BRB, gonna throw up from grief.

; _ ; AAAAAAAA. Welcome to Arkham Shadow Brain. You won't stop thinking about Batman and Two Face for a looong time.

The game is so not anything I expected, but there's so much going on! they put so much care into the dynamics between characters and the direction in the acting that it feels so unlike other games in the franchise. A vr game hardly anyone will play bc it's vr 😭😭

It's so up close and personal, by far one of my fav adaptations to date. It's funny after joker 2 and caped crusader where he was announced to be in and hyped up.

I have so many thoughts still I rewrote this several times. Ugh, it's so deliciously tragic! It means so much to see a character with a story like Harvey's receive like, the weight it deserves and be so idk multifaceted? Bruce and Harvey, are so flawed, there's so much going on with them. They're so arrogant, angry and hurt and they want to do something about the world so it never happens again.

-I had a Hc on what their relationship as traumatized and socially stunted kids would be and this is so... much of that.

-I love that Leslie shows up so much here. I know her from btas and seeing her here was so surprising but so fitting. I know she's in the comics and was one of the many supportive figures in Bruce's life so seeing her doing that with Harvey is soo ;_;

-Idk if you heard the tapes but you realize that there's more behind Harvey's accident and how he knew about it and you only find this tape with the conversation in the ship near the end of the game where you found him and have to follow him,,,, ough

-Harvey goes above and beyond believing he's doing you a favor by shooting Joe Chill (it's what he would've done to his dad). Then, you take the cowl off and he thinks you hate him for what he's done and the stuff he said about batman in the tapes among other things. He probably suspected you were batman,,, but couldn't confirm it and he wasn't going to ask.

-Harvey felt he was losing himself from way before the events of the game, but he didn't care that much about himself as a person. It was always about keeping up appearances and having everything under control. His job being more important.

-I think Harvey didn't trust Leslie about his mental health as an adult, much less Bruce. It's like, he's an adult now, hes married, he can fix this city he might as well act like it. Then, he does some dodgy shit, it blows up in his face and he now has to atone for it somehow and still doesn't go to the ppl he trusts. At least, that's how I'd explain Harvey, not Harv, bringing Joe chill into the ship that late and leaving Bruce a message.

-the rooftop scene when he drags you down is harvey saying: "I love you but I hate myself more"

-Also I sort of interpret the ending as Harvey having no hope for himself. I think he's trying to comfort Bruce by saying this isn't the end of him. Kinda like when Bruce hit him, he's hurt and freaking out but he still gives Bruce fighting words bc it's not about harveys well being but having everything under control.

There's likely many ways to see it but I lean towards the least hopeful considering how fucked up he must feel.

Anyways, I'm glad you got to see it! I'm still very much not over it lmao

[lordkingsmith]

Six for Six

Making a little bit of a tag game I thought might be fun. Movies, tv shows and even commercials are a big part of modern life. Sometimes it’s not even the full piece it’s just a specific moment in it so impactful to you this moment rewrote your brain. so; choose six moments in movies, shows, and/or commercials that deeply impacted you and influenced how you write or make art and then tag six people :)

If you can’t find the moment on YouTube no worries, just list where it comes from, describe it, and briefly explain how it impacted you

1. https://youtu.be/7DXJcB0Y4L4?si=H5TVapOBuM_009-5

The whole mini series turned movie is bizarre but this part is the only part like this. Probably for budget reasons. The song is amazing and the visuals are gorgeous. As a kid I’d watch this show over and over mainly just for this part. Miranda dancing a demonic sea dragon into oblivion while mermaids sing. Also; “how can I give a gift to someone who already has so many of her own” like. Hello??? It’s surreal and weird and fun, and I loved it so so much. I think this was where I started really becoming obsessed with matching a song to a person and imagining very small people up against weird and impossible odds

2. https://youtu.be/PqLy1tgyphw?si=vsARUV0uGCSPmlNC

Specifically the voice over and the ending, where the guy is dragged into the trench below. The whole commercial is a vibe but the stomach drop I had when I first saw this commercial’s ending-it was so good? The best shiver I swear. I’ve been trying to cause that same amount of excited dread in myself since lol

3. https://youtu.be/ECsfniZRdBc?feature=shared

Eris’ game from Sinbad. I wasn’t down bad for her, it was more like I was in awe for how…correctly they got “chaos” for her goddess self. Every detail of her is perfection for it. And the game is so perfectly encapsulating everything she is, and everything Sinbad is. Him making her give him his word is the smartest thing he could have ever done and I love it. I wanna write a villain even a quarter as amazing as her, one day

4. https://youtu.be/8rl3CeVtFSE?si=qSH0_qqvoNsmInhE

Scooby Doo cyber chase is the most trippy movie for me and I love it so much? But this? This I think about once a month lol. I don’t know how to incorporate the vibes from this scene alone but man do I keep trying

5. https://youtu.be/7bfDd3iW6lY?si=AkBz-_1mAQi9tY0b

Cyberchase’s twist where Hacker, the generally inept villain, was actually 3 steps ahead of them up till this point and not only made Motherboard sick but also tricked them into thinking the thing that would replace her with himself was the cure? Messed me up as a kid. First time I’d ever seen a villain winning. It doesn’t last long but man. It still happened! Villains should win sometimes, and idiot villains should be smart sometimes too. Just adds to the story over all

6. https://youtu.be/LXIlThWdz-Q?si=LPJMORNDBwdvAu22

For non Americans, this was on our Public Broadcasting System channel, aka PBS. It was aimed at seven to twelve year olds. This was the first time a lot of kids saw a main character die. It’s also why I believe kids are more capable of handling heavy concepts than most people now think. Crying because a character died is good, actually. Helps people safely confront the concept of death and grief. Was controversial even then but highly influential to the ones who saw it

And I’m tagging; @uccelletto-di-kokuyo @queerlilchinchin @shepardsherd @watermeezer @augment-techs @skyland2703 and if anyone else would like to go for it :)

[deathscastleofficielle]

Breaking down my designs for the Main Bros

Hey, happy anniversary! Seven years ago today I published the very first chapter of Death's Castle! (and then a few years later I went back and rewrote it to better match my current skill level but LETS NOT WORRY ABOUT THAT-)

So in celebration of seven years, how about I actually talk about the design processes for the Bros and what's going on with their looks.

Quick note, since I already discussed many of the Bros' body types, I won't be rehashing that. We'll mainly be focusing on face, hair, and clothes. I will also be bringing up some of the old fandom artists that inspired me, but I once again ask that you please do not bother them as they have long moved on from this fandom (this does not apply to Jack or Zoe, they are my friends, go give them some love).

Also, spoilers for the fic below.

Stephano the Statue (+Janus)

Stephano is a statue, an artistic representation of idealized beauty, and thus is meant to be very handsome but in a way that makes him stick out from the rest of the castle. In a place where most everyone is pale and starving, Stephano's chiseled and healthy features can make him look uncanny. A quite literal case of "don't trust a pretty face."

One of his most notable features is his eyes, and specifically how little detail they actually have. In White Lily, Mayo notes that Stephano's eyes lack "deeper color" but have a metallic shine to them. In other words, his eyes appear flatter compared to others. Again, this is supposed to make him look more statue-like. I also tend to give him a more defined nose than others in my art, owing to his Arab heritage.

His long hair, often kept in a low ponytail, is borrowed from many pre-existing depictions of the character. I think we all just like the Finn the Human-type trope of a character who mostly keeps their hair covered but then it's revealed their hair is actually super long. And while most fan depictions made Stephano clean-shaven, in one of the videos he actually confirms that he has a beard, so I gave him a bit of a goatee.

As mentioned before, Stephano's outfit design was actually stolen and edited from the artist blackbeltkitten009 for their now discontinued comic The Stephano Chronicles. When I began Death's Castle, my goal was to create updated designs for the Bros, to provide a visual of the timeskip between the videos (where I tend to use design elements that were generally popular in the fandom at the time) and the fanfiction. However, Stephano is a bit difficult to make an updated design for because of all the Bros he has the most humanoid appearance in the videos, given that he's a statuette and actually has clothes. (An admittedly ironic statement, given that in Death's Castle proper his gold skin makes him unable to pass as fully human)

There were a couple elements that drew me to blackbeltkitten009's design in particular; for starters the design had a lot of drama to it without being over the top. There was one thing in particular that made me decide to use it though, and that was the ruby brooch.

In Death's Castle, Stephano shares his body with an entity he has named Janus, an element taken from the Disponentia custom story playthrough. When Janus is in control, Stephano's eyes glow red followed by everything gold on his body becoming pitch black. The ruby brooch acts as a bridge between these two forms. On Stephano, the red is a pop of color against his otherwise monochromatic design, with the color scheme adding a regal heroism to him, much like how Stephano would like to see himself. On Janus however, the red ties into his eyes and adds to the sinister appearance.

Is that a bit cheesy? Yes, but I was a teenager when I started this, give me a break.

Also as a sidenote, Janus' color scheme came from a misunderstanding. You see my first encounter with him was of someone's description of him. I didn't know which video "Evil Stephano" originated in, and for awhile I even believed he was something the fandom made up. Like Red Chair! But I must have misread "glowing eyes" as specifically glowing red eyes. However, when actually watching Disponentia it turns out his eyes are actually glowing white and his color is maybe a dark bronze. I like where the chips landed but if I began Death's Castle today, I probably would have made him closer to his appearance in the videos. But this would definitely call for a different Stephano design.

Piggeh the Pig

Piggeh's characterization was inspired by the scene and emo trends of the early 2010s. Not only the fun stuff which makes up his outward personality, but also some of the harsher realities that were going on in those subcultures.

One of the first decisions I made was to change his shirt color from pink to something else. For awhile it was going to be white since that was the only color I can think of that didn't clash with his color scheme, but didn't like it since I felt it would be too washed out on his pale skin. I ended up instead settling on a bright red (starting to notice a pattern?). This felt like a natural escalation of Piggeh's previous pink attire, as both are considered romantic/sexual colors. In fact Piggeh's color scheme is meant to evoke the typical garish valentine's day. The particular shade of red's gaudiness also says a lot about Piggeh; he doesn't put a lot of care into his appearance. On the other hand though, the red picks up on all of the eternally bloodied scars on Piggeh's body. Piggeh and blood are very well acquainted, and the tattered red shirt is a constant reminder of that fact.

The brown fishnet vest was another early design decision. Fishnets are often seen as provocative and are associated with adult entertainment, thus him having a vest made of the material is an easy shorthand for his sexual behavior without exposing too much skin. In fact early on the vest was hot pink, but I think someone pointed out how hard it was to see against the red so I changed it to dark brown.

The bandages on his arms are picked up from several pre-existing depictions of Piggeh such as StephanoTheStatue's and Mister-Chair's, but in Death's Castle they serve a plot purpose; hiding his self harm scars. Finally, the look is completed with brown jeans and a pair of work boots, calling back to his farm origins.

While most people tend to give Piggeh unnaturally colored eyes, most popular being pink to match his hair, I decided to give my depiction of Piggeh brown eyes like most real pigs tend to have. He also has snake-like pupils, owing to his famous line from the videos; "You thought I was a pig? Nah, I'm a snake!" One eye has a long scar over it in a somewhat diamond shape, but tends to curve in a way that can almost make it resemble a snake. His other eye, often kept hidden by his hair, is surrounded by a larger scar and blackened by hyphema, otherwise known as an 8 Ball Fracture. This was inspired by the character of 2D from the band Gorillaz.

His pink hair was originally shorter if just a bit messy, owing to the fact that I used to only be able to draw about two hairstyles for men. However when Jack ( @thesucessorofficalnot ) drew him, he gave Piggeh a longer and uneven cut more reminiscent of scene queen hairstyles, so I started using it myself.

Finally, one thing I want to mention is that Piggeh was designed to be very feminine looking, to the point he could easily pass as a woman. This started as sort of a joke because whenever I would show people in real life fan art of Piggeh they would consistently mistake him for a woman, likely due to his pink color scheme, so I just adopted it as a feature for him. His adoptive mother Bunny was even designed to look masculine as a compliment to his feminine design. This ended up being somewhat downplayed in the fic itself, as generally speaking the Bros aren't too concerned with how outwardly masculine or feminine someone is.

Oh and fun fact. Lately when I've drawn Piggeh or Fleur, I've drawn them with the same eye shape.

Mr. Green Chair

Appearance wise Mr. Chair doesn't veer too far off from the typical depictions. Short brown hair, light-skinned, wearing glasses and a green beret. He is often depicted as having either brown or green eyes, and I chose green to compliment his siblings' color themed naming, hence his first name being "Green" in the fanfic. One important factor regarding his appearance is that while most versions of Mr. Chair are presumably white, mine is biracial, and specifically Japanese. This is mainly to reference his appearances in the playthrough of Ao Oni, a game made and set in Japan.

Mr. Chair is similarly hard to redesign like Stephano, but for different reasons. Mr. Chair's design is pretty set in stone in the fandom, usually depicted in a green sweater vest or cardigan and a simple dress shirt. In general his look is very preppy, very academia. So how do I update that for a years later look?

Well admittedly I had already drawn up some designs based on basically a male version of Elizabeth's outfit from Bioshock Infinite. And we'll swing back around to Elizabeth later, but for now I basically had this lying around and slapped it on Mr. Chair. I simply changed the colors so that the blazer was his signature deep green, and the lining on his dress shirt was a reddish purple. There was originally no pattern on the shirt, but the amazing ZoeDraws did some awesome artwork of the Bros and on Mr. Chair they included a light grey vine/floral pattern so I have also adopted that in at least some of my art.

While on the surface the outfit is typical for a bookworm character, the rather bold combination of green and magenta is surprisingly flamboyant. My friend even comared him to a toxic frog. I think this acts as a bit of subtle foreshadowing to the more unsettling parts of Mr. Chair's character, such as his past drug use. It also shows a bit of his creativity, as presumably Mr. Chair made or altered these clothes himself, given his sewing skills.

And while not fully intentional, the outfit parallels Red Chair, who similarly wears a red and black blazer patterned like Pewdie's modern branding and a red hat. Perhaps Mr. Chair can't help but want to emulate his older brother?

Jennifer the Rock

Jennifer's look was solidified very early on due to the popular traits she was given in fan art. Long black hair, pale skin, gray eyes. The most important element of her design is that she is plus sized due to Pewdie constantly insulting the character for being fat. An unfortunate artifact of the time's humor that is explored more thoroughly and compassionately in Death's Castle proper.

While actually letting her be fat sounds like a no-brainer nowadays, this was not the case in the fandom back then. Most people tended to make Jennifer skinny, some even giving her an eating disorder of some sort to justify it. And the few who did make Jenny fat were tending to continue the joke from the videos. Now I don't say this to act all superior, frankly speaking Pewds put us in an awkward position, and I'm sure for a lot of the artists they didn't want to offend anyone or maybe it even hit too close to home for some.

However, it was important to me to actually give Jennifer the body type she was assigned to, and to not only show the struggles fat women are faced with, but that fat can be beautiful. Especially without being sexualized. (see my pride headcanons for more on that) It also provided a bit of a contrast to how we see fat today vs how fat was seen in the past.

Jennifer originally kept her hair down as seen in some of the past segments of Death's Castle, but by the present day her hair is worn in a ponytail. This was actually an element inspired by a doodle Punkichi did, depicting their Jennifer in an alternate hairstyle. I liked it, so I adopted it for mine. Her hair also covers one of her eyes to show her shyer and insecure personality. Finally, I used a popular accessory often given not to human Jennifer but to the rock version of Jennifer in non-gijinka fanart. A bow. Which also inspired me to make her an archer because I thought it was funny for her to have two different kinds of bows.

In an attempt to get back her memories through an orb shard, Jennifer falls into a trance and ends up severing her pinky finger. What may initially seem like a random injury actually holds a lot of meaning when Jennifer's past as Genevieve is taken into account. For starters, as a lady of high society, Genevieve had to have proper etiquette, and we all know the rule of sticking your pinky finger out when drinking tea. Cutting it off shows that Jennifer is no longer that proper girl. On a dourer note, the pinky finger is also associated with the pinky swear or pinky promise. Losing that finger in this sense symbolizes promises that were never fulfilled.

Each of the Bros had a signature color of sorts. Pewdie was blue, Stephano was gold/yellow, Piggeh was pink, and Mr. Chair was green. Jennifer on the other hand didn't really have a solid agreed upon color in the fandom that wasn't just gray. So it only made sense to make Jennifer's purple. This was for a few reasons. It was an appropriately feminine color to put on the one girl in the group without infringing on Piggeh and even Marzia's pink, it paired nicely with all the grays in her color scheme, it worked as an opposite against Stephano's yellow, and finally; purple was a color often associated with wealth and power.

Jennifer is a bit of an interesting case outfit wise since she initially starts with a different outfit, but quickly changes into a new one in the seventh chapter. This was mainly because I struggled with her costume design the most out of any of the Bros. I initially wanted to play with the idea of moss growing on a rock and paired this with a look meant to focus on her archery skill, but this design was rather ugly and uninspired- not to mention it used far too much green for a character who was supposed to be associated with purple, so it was retconned to instead be a simple gray tank top and black leggings.

I actually eventually took inspiration from Jack's version of Jenny. I designed a letterman jacket style gray hoodie with white sleeves that had purple morning glories and mint green vines embroidered on them. This was paired with a dusty purple t-shirt that had the brofist symbol on it and a pinkish purple pleated skirt that matched her signature hair bow. She kept the black leggings and gray boots from her previous design. This design ended up suiting Jenny more and setting the tone for her style, as it better fit her fangirl characterization from the original videos.

Interestingly, in both her concept design and her current one, Jennifer is the only one who actually wears her flower motif on her person. Perhaps in a way it shows that she's the most self-actualized of her group? Alternatively, it furthers her resemblance to Fleur, and shows how Stephano can't help but see the lady with the flowers in those around him.

Also I apologize to everyone I've ever confused by describing the mauve color of Jennifer's ribbon and skirt as VIOLET. I had a crayon that was apparently horribly mislabeled, so I associated a pinkish-purple color with the word violet.

Mayo the Small Table

Mayo is one of the most important characters in Death's Castle. His sudden reappearance after what the Bros were led to believe was a childhood death is what kicks the plot into action, and throughout the story acts as the deuteragonist since the story is just as much about him and how he grows up as much as it is about Stephano. During the videos he was only nine years old, which presented an interesting challenge for his Death's Castle design. While everyone else started as adults and were only getting a little older in comparison, Mayo went from a child to a young teenager.

Mayo's childhood design is rather typical for the fandom. Short blonde hair, gold or brown eyes, a light colored t-shirt, brown overalls and a matching cap. A cute if potentially rowdy kid. His teenage design shifts drastically, presenting a more mature- but still youthful- version of the character.

This is where we swing back to Elizabeth, as the Bioshock character influenced a lot of Mayo's characterization. Specifically, the motif of a bird caged for the mysterious use of those who trapped it. As such, I pretty much took elements of her first outfit and slapped them onto Mayo. The collared shirt, necktie, even his birdcage brooch is lifted from one of two pins Elizabeth wears on her choker. His color scheme is made up of white, soft browns, and pastel yellow, evoking innocence and light. You look at this version of Mayo and want to protect him.

However, that protection can be stifling to someone trying to grow, so Mayo undergoes a dramatic change later on. After his clothes get ruined by blood, he swaps out most of his outfit for a simpler get up of a white dress shirt and black slacks, and this is accompanied by a rather dramatic new piece. The coat that once belonged to Alexander himself.

This is where we finally acknowledge the recurring use of red. Each of the main Bros uses some shade of red in their designs. Sometimes this is more straightforward such as Stephano and Piggeh, other times it's more subtle such as Mr. Chair's magenta or Jennifer's accents of pink. This was for one big reason, PewDiePie himself. In his early days, Pewds was associated with the color blue. He even adopted a light blue color for his brofist icon. However, things have changed since then. Nowadays he uses red. This common color scheme also shows that the Bros are a more unified team than they once were.

But then there's Mayo, who initially looks quite out of place, and he is. They are essentially an outsider by now, unfamiliar with the greater workings of the Bro Army and having to catch up on the five years they were missing in action. The Bros' protectiveness over him also others him, puts him on a pedestal, and this even leads to Stephano and Mr. Chair electing to kick him out of the castle, thinking it would be best for him to grow up among humans. As such, when he returns in Alexander's coat, in the red shade the group has adopted, he is sending a clear message. He won't be pushed aside anymore. The red and gold color scheme also draws comparisons to Stephano in particular. Once again, the story is just as much about him as it is our favorite statue.

The red also ties into his flower motif, and the reveal that his "flower chapters" work differently than his adult companions. Since he is still so young, for all intents and purposes his backstory is still ongoing. He initially starts with a white lily, symbolizing innocence and death. This is a melancholic flower, reflecting the sad situation of a child having been robbed of his freedom by enemies and family alike. His motif then changes to a scarlet lily, represent passion and lofty aspirations. This is a Mayo who has been pushed to the edge and now refuses to be a passive player in his own life.

His hair has grown out from his childhood and is now kept in a short ponytail. This was an idea I lifted from AskMayo's version of the character, as it added more variety to the cast. This person was also where I got the idea of Mayo using daggers to fight. (Quick note, ages were not universally agreed on in the fandom. This person's Mayo is older and was often sexualized by the artist.)

Now, there is one more thing I want to bring up about Mayo's design that no one actually knew until now; Both of his costume designs are based off circus attire. His first outfit, along with being stolen from Bioshock, is meant to resemble an acrobat's costume, complimenting his flexibility and fighting style. He loses that in his second outfit, but it has a subtler connation. With the long red coat, Mayo looks like the stock ringleader.

Conclusions

While making this post, I talked with Jack and he pointed out something I hadn't really put into words until now. My approach to designing the characters was very theatrical. Since I went for more human designs overall, I had to rely on costuming and styling to get my points across. And honestly, given that I've been in theater my whole life, and it's shaped the way I tell stories, I find that very fitting.

I could go on about why I designed characters in certain ways. There are so many characters, and I put a lot of work into each of them. However, quite frankly I just don't have the time so I'll just leave it at this;

There was a time when I wasn't sure I would ever write this story, and it's crazy to realize that I've been doing it for seven years now. Some years were more plentiful than others, I mean we definitely had a slow start, but I can't believe how far I've gotten. We're nearing what I would consider the end of the first season, the characters have evolved so much and there's so much more waiting around the corner.

To everyone who has supported me, whether you've been here since the beginning or found me along the way, thank you. Thank you so much. I don't know if I'd even be here without you guys.

Anyway I need to go rest my fingers because I talk way too much.