#(and another day to realize I added the wrong link!)

[weepingfromacedartree]

Ten Milestones: Hopes & Dreams

Hi friends! Chapter 5 is now available!

TW: drug and alcohol use

When Colin’s eyes scan over the next milestone, his face lights up in that aggravatingly adorable way it always does when things go exactly his way. 

“Oooh,” he gloats. “This is a good one.”

“What?” Penelope asks, impatient. He’s sitting just close enough that she could steal the phone out of his hands if she wanted to, but she resists the urge. 

“Number Four: Sharing Your Hopes and Dreams. Before you and your partner make the commitment to share a life together, you must first share what each of you wants out of that future. This conversation is important — not only will it teach you about each other as individuals, but it will also give you an understanding of how you fit together as partners. A strong partnership is made up of two people who support each other’s goals.”

Penelope doesn’t say a word. She simply smiles. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Nine Years Earlier: December 23rd, 2014

Relationship Status: Good Friends

꙳

December 24th, in Penelope’s opinion, has to be one of the worst days a person can be born on. (Third worst to be exact, narrowly being beaten out by December 25th and February 29th.) Every year, the celebration of your birth is overshadowed by the eve of someone else’s birth. Your birthday presents double as Christmas presents. Your friends are too busy with their own holiday plans to celebrate your birthday with you. Hell — most people forget your birthday exists in the first place. 

December 24th is a rather shitty birthday for one to possess. But in all the years she’s known him, Colin has never been one to complain. 

It helps that the other Bridgertons always make an attempt to separate his birthday celebrations from the holiday he just so happened to have been born on. That’s why these sorts of parties are always held the night before his actual birthday. 

Daphne took the anti-Christmas strategy to a whole nother level this year. Invitations went out two weeks ago with a disclaimer at the bottom. 

Red and green garments are strictly prohibited on the premises. 

Penelope originally wanted to wear a velvet burgundy dress that she found on Dover Street tonight, but the garment has since been banished to the back of her closet. Instead, she’s wearing a dress made of a softer shade of pink. 

Now, 57 minutes into the very-much-not-a-holiday-party party, Penelope stands above the Bridgerton foyer with a dark red drink in her hand. Eloise is beside her, grumbling about the many “unique” choices made for this event. (Including her required attendance.)

“I know Daphne banned holiday music, but surely she can play something better than Coldplay.”

“I like Coldplay,” Penelope mutters defensively. Eloise does not seem to hear her above all the other noise in the room.

“Have you seen the birthday boy anywhere? It’s his party and I have not seen him all night.”

“No. I haven’t.”

They’re standing on the second story landing, above the front entrance and foyer where most attendees mingle. This should be an optimal vantage point to look for Colin, but when Penelope scans the crowd, she comes up empty. 

“I’m usually the one to pull a disappearing act at this sort of thing, and even I wouldn’t dare do so at my own party.” 

Eloise’s words temporarily break Penelope out of her premature worry. She giggles. 

“Weren’t you three hours late to your last birthday celebration? Something about needing to go downtown to visit a certain —”

“That’s different!” Eloise cuts in. “That was a surprise party — how was I supposed to know?!” 

“Didn’t your family —”

“I thought I was delaying a casual birthday dinner with my mum and seven siblings. Obviously I would have been on time if I knew there were a hundred people crouched in the dark, hiding behind potted plants and couch cushions, just waiting for my return.” 

Penelope’s giggles do not let up.

“Is that what you think happened while you were gone?”

“I don’t know.” Eloise literally waves off the question, gesticulating her hands so ardently that she nearly spills all the wine out of her glass. “I’m more concerned about Colin’s whereabouts at the moment.” 

“Is something wrong?” Penelope asks, worry rising up in her chest again. It’s squashed just as quickly. 

“No. But if I have to suffer through this party, so should he. It’s his fault we’re all here in the first place.” 

Penelope scans the crowd once more. Yet again, nothing. 

“Knowing Colin, he’s probably in the kitchen.”

“Oooh.” Eloise’s demeanour changes immediately. Her scowl pulls into a smile. “That also happens to be where they store the one thing that could actually make this party enjoyable.”

Penelope lifts an eyebrow, fighting off another bout of giggles. 

“And what might that be? Good conversation? An old friend? The ghost of not-Christmas pres—”

“No. Liquor. Perhaps after a few drinks, your jokes will start to sound funny.” 

As one final round of giggles bubbles up in Penelope’s throat, Eloise loops their arms together and leads them towards the stairs. 

“And after a few more drinks, perhaps Coldplay will start to sound like actual music.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Twenty-one minutes later (and half a vodka cranberry later), Penelope walks out of the kitchen by herself, realising that she has seen every Bridgerton at this party except Colin. 

Violet and Daphne had both greeted her at the door. She spoke to Francesca while waiting for the loo. She walked in on a fist fight between Gregory and Hyacinth. Anthony brushed past her to break it up, barely managing to prevent Hyacinth from knocking Gregory’s front tooth out. Benedict was in the kitchen, where he and Eloise are currently having a spirited (but hushed) debate over what Christmas movie to watch tomorrow night. 

Glass in hand, condensation already dripping onto her fingers, Penelope walks the Bridgerton halls.

There are people everywhere she turns. Some she knows from her lifetime in Mayfair or from her extensive experience at Bridgerton events. Some she vaguely recognizes from Colin’s social media or from her sporadic trips up to Cambridge. Some she doesn’t recognize at all. 

As her footsteps trail forward, Penelope resists the urge to look and listen. To keep listening. To peer into the conversations of these strangers and acquaintances, all while she remains unnoticed. 

 It’s a game she knows well, but still she resists. She looks for a face far more familiar than these. 

Just before her feet can step into the foyer — into the heart of the party — they stop short. Her body moves to the side, leaning rigid into the wooden doorway, hidden beneath the cover of a shadow. On the other side of the room, Colin stands with his back against a wall and his arms crossed in front of him. Clearly, no one informed him of the dress code for his own party; he’s wearing an emerald green cable knit sweater. 

(He’s also wearing a light blue birthday hat atop his head — one she can only assume was hand-crafted by Violet Bridgerton.)

He isn’t alone. Daphne stands beside him, body facing him, arms at her sides. They’re talking. Penelope couldn’t even begin to guess what it is they’re talking about, but she can tell from the other side of the room that Colin isn’t happy about it. 

He isn’t saying much; Daphne is doing most of the talking. 

After a stranger brushes past her, Penelope raises her glass to her lips and takes the smallest of sips. Her mind briefly considers walking over to the other side of the room, but her feet remain firmly planted in her spot in the doorway. She feels a peculiar, paralyzed sensation up and down her legs as she watches their conversation unfold from afar. She can’t help but worry and wonder why Colin looks so defeated at his own party. She also can’t help but deem this conversation too dangerous to peer into uninvited. 

“Oh, Pen! There you are!” 

Automatically, Penelope’s head turns in the direction from which her name had been called. Eloise is excitedly walking (basically skipping) down the hall towards her.

“You’re coming over tomorrow night, right? Ben is still advocating for Elf, but with your vote I think I can swing us back to the far superior Nightmare Before Christmas.” 

“Oh! Yes, I think so. By the way, I found —”

Penelope turns her head, expecting to find Colin exactly where he had been not twenty seconds prior. But he isn’t. Neither is Daphne. 

“What?” Eloise asks, now standing in the doorway beside Penelope. 

“Nothing.” Penelope shakes her head, then shoots back the rest of her drink. “And just for the record: Benedict is right. Elf is easily the superior Christmas movie.”

Eloise’s jaw goes slack.

“You traitor.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

All night, the only thing Colin wanted was to disappear from his own party. He is aware of how bad that sounds — how he sounds like an ungrateful child instead of a man on the cusp of twenty-two. But even then… 

No one can plan for their birthday. He didn’t choose this to be born on December 24th. He didn’t want to have this party to begin with. He couldn’t have predicted that tonight would land in the middle of one of the most uncertain, precarious, bad-mood-inducing phases of his life. It’s not his fault that he’s currently in one of those moods — one that makes the happiness of others feel like a personal attack on you specifically. 

A party was the last place Colin wanted to be tonight. Now, he finds himself in a room situated in a more private wing of the house. He’s out of view of the random, too-happy people filling the halls, but close enough to hear the remnants of faraway music. He’s sitting in front of the giant oak that used to belong to his father, arms crossed in front of him and eyes trained on the door to his left. Anthony’s on the other side of the desk, donning an expression that makes Colin wish he was back in the heart of the party. 

“Must we have this conversation now? I’m fairly certain mum’s downstairs lighting candles on a cake as we speak.”

That look on Anthony’s face — equal parts annoyance and amusement — does not let up one bit. 

“I’ve been trying to have this conversation with you for weeks. It’s not my fault that we had to throw a party in your honour just to keep you at home for more than fifteen minutes.” 

“That’s —” 

Colin doesn’t finish that sentence. He could attach a million different adjectives to the end of it that would (rightfully) attack Anthony’s character, but none of them would make his words untrue. 

“I’ve been busy,” he says instead.  

“Clearly.” Anthony puffs out an audible breath of air from his nose as he leans back in their father’s chair. “Seeing as you can’t even make the time for one single phone call.”

For the first time in several minutes, Colin’s arms uncross. His hands move to the arms of the chair, ten fingernails biting into its vinyl surface. 

Contrary to Anthony’s claims, they’ve actually had some version of this conversation several times over the last few weeks. Over those weeks, Anthony had suggested, reminded, then demanded that Colin reach out to an old friend of their father’s — one who just so happens to be the head of English Literature at Oxford. Also during those weeks, Colin reminded his older brother that he has no intention of doing so, but such details always seem to fall on deaf ears. 

Also contrary to Anthony’s claims, Colin does have plans — or at the very least, dreams for what to do after he graduates from university in the spring. His aspirations simply have nothing to do with Oxford or any other form of higher education. His dreams — 

“Is this about Marina?” 

Those words break Colin out of the thought spiral he hadn’t realised he had fallen into. They leave him feeling even more annoyed and misunderstood than he had just a moment ago. 

“Excuse me? What exactly —”

“This. This insistence to avoid real life. To sulk around and avoid your responsibilities.”

“I am not —” 

“It’s fine, if it is!” Anthony offers, sarcasm not lost in his tone. “I get it. Your first real breakup can be hard. But at a certain point, you have to —” 

“That was months ago. And I don’t see how a silly little breakup has any bearing on my career aspirations.” 

It isn’t until those words leave his lips that he realises how potently they taste of bullshit. 

No, this is not about Marina or the ultimate demise of their relationship. Obviously, she has no bearing on any of his future plans. But to refer to their breakup as “silly” or “little” feels dishonest. (On his end, at least. The words are probably more fitting for Marina’s feelings on the matter.)

In truth, Colin had been in a perpetual bad mood since she ended things between them back in August. They only dated for six months, but that was approximately five and a half months longer than any relationship he had held previously. He thought Marina was the love of his life; after their breakup, she admitted that the only reason they ever dated was to make her ex-boyfriend jealous. 

At least the relationship had been successful for one of them. 

“‘Career aspirations?’” Anthony mocks, pulling Colin out of yet another thought spiral. “Is that what we’re calling them now?” 

Now, Colin wishes for nothing more than to strangle his older brother. Instead, he lets go of his tightening grip around the armchair. 

“Once again — can we table this conversation for another day? Daphne will kill me if I kill you and thus, ruin her party.”

Anthony rolls his eyes, but nods. 

“Fine. But isn’t this your party?”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

Anthony immediately stands from his chair, but Colin remains sitting. His gaze turns to the left again, pointlessly pointing at that big brown door — wishing against all reason and logic for someone to walk through the precipice. 

Just as he always does on nights like this. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

At approximately 11:33 PM, after cutting the cake, after dodging more of Anthony’s questions, after acting like an ungrateful, bad-mood-wielding ass at his own celebration, Colin sits alone. 

He’s in the drawing room, perched precariously on the edge of a windowsill. The room is dark, lit by one dying bulb in the lamp by the door. There’s a hastily-rolled joint (a birthday gift from Benedict) between Colin’s thumb and index finger. There’s a cloud of smoke sitting on his tongue and a bitter December breeze drifting in from the open window beside him. 

The party he left behind is probably wrapping up right now. People are probably looking for him. He should probably go say goodbye (or even “hello”) to them. He shouldn’t keep himself here, secluded in a well of his own misery. But just the thought of going downstairs and speaking to one of those random, too-happy people fills him with a misery that —

Shit.

The door to the drawing room starts to creak open. Before it can open all the way — before he can even turn his head to identify the perpetrator behind that noise — Colin flicks the joint out the window. When he finally does look over to the entrance across the room, his panic starts to settle. 

“Sorry. I thought you were someone else,” he says, just as Penelope says, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Even in the dim lighting — even from across the room — Colin can see her cheeks flush pink as she laughs nervously and steps across the precipice. Thankfully, she shuts the door closed behind her.  

“Sorry,” she says again. “Hope I don’t disappoint.” 

“Not at all.” He shuts the window before standing from his spot. He meets Penelope halfway on the light blue couch in the middle of the room. “Quite the opposite.” 

As she walks closer, her cheeks grow just a little more pink. The nervous smile drops though, her face settling into a look Colin has become quite familiar with over the years. He knows there’s a question behind it — something gnawing at her insides, begging to be asked aloud. Given his admittedly odd behaviour and the fact that this is the first time they’ve spoken all night, he feels rather confident about what question he’s about to be asked. 

But he’s wrong.

“What happened to your birthday hat?”

“Fucking hell,” he unconsciously mutters. The words slip from his lips as his hands raise to the crown of his head. “Forgotten by a tray of eclairs. I think.” 

That gnawing expression on Penelope’s face drops. She giggles. 

“Shall we go look for it before your mum catches on?” 

“No.” It isn’t until that word shoots off his lips that he realises how deeply he despises the idea of being anywhere except this spot on the couch. “Mum will forgive my carelessness.” 

Penelope nods, a soft hum of agreement on her lips. 

“Is there a reason you’re hiding up here instead of by that tray of eclairs?” 

Colin’s first instinct is to deflect. He opens his mouth to do so — but before he can say anything, he’s suddenly hit by a wave of clarity that doing so would be wrong. That Penelope already knows something is up with him and lying to her would do neither of them any good. The epiphany is almost certainly a consequence of the weed he inhaled approximately 60 seconds ago, but still…

“Just in a bit of a shit mood. Which — I should really apologise for. To you and the hundred other people held hostage by said shit mood all night.”

Penelope’s face flashes with an expression different from inquiry, but just as familiar to him after all these years: worry.  

“Don’t apologise.” 

Maybe it’s the joint currently burning a hole in his mother’s lawn. Maybe it’s the deflection finally breaking through. Maybe it’s his inherent need to pull the worry off Penelope’s face, but Colin cannot help but smirk. 

“Sorry. I’ll try to remember to stop doing that.” 

“Why are you in a shit mood?” she asks, seemingly unphased by his facetiousness. 

Colin shrugs. 

“Not in the Christmas spirit this year, I suppose.”

“I don’t see how that’s of any relevance, considering the fact that this is not a Christmas party. In fact, I believe any mention of said ‘Christmas spirit’ has been banned entirely.” 

“Bloody hell.” 

Colin runs a hand across his face, literally wiping away that smirk. 

“I told Daphne to relax on the ‘rules’ for this thing. Actually — I told her to skip this party altogether. To just tack on a birthday cake to the usual Christmas Eve celebrations tomorrow. Unfortunately, I don’t believe my input is of much relevance on the subject.”

Penelope remains quiet for a second longer than Colin feels is necessary or comfortable. In those few seconds of waiting, she sports a new expression on her face. This one is harder to read than the ones that came before. 

“Is that why you two were arguing before?” she finally asks. And when Colin simply gives her a look of confusion, she clarifies, “I saw you two talking in the foyer earlier tonight. You looked a bit… I don’t know. Cross?” 

Once again, Colin feels himself hit with a desire to drop his faux-nonchalance and charming deflection. To speak plainly. If there ever were a person to be candid with, surely it’s Penelope. Throughout the entirety of their friendship, she has only ever regarded him with an open mind. All his life, she has been so constant and loyal. If there is anyone he should be discussing matters such as this with, surely it’s her. 

Surely. 

“No, that wasn’t what we were talking about. As silly and unnecessary it may have been… You know how excited Daphne gets about these parties. I didn’t want to complain. Not that directly, at least. We were, uh —” He clears his throat. “We were actually discussing my post-uni plans.”

In the relative darkness surrounding them, Penelope’s eyes light up with eager curiosity.

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. Anthony has been on my ass for weeks regarding the future — which is completely out of character from him, I know. But I… I don’t know. Anthony isn’t exactly the easiest person to talk to about that sort of thing and I… I thought it would be easier to talk to Daphne about it, but…”

The longer he speaks, the more apparent it becomes that his usual capabilities for completing sentences have seemingly slipped away from him. It’s probably the weed, but…

“What are your plans?” Penelope asks, filling the interim silence. “It’s fine if you don’t know yet, of course. Not everyone has to know exactly what they want to do after uni, but —”

“No, I do have plans,” Colin is quick to clarify. “They’re just a bit… mad. According to Anthony, at least.”

“Oh.” Penelope shifts in her spot, sitting up a bit straighter. A wicked smile creeps up her lips. “Well, that’s much better than no plan at all.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “I guess so.”

“So what are these mad plans, exactly?” 

“Well,” Colin can feel his body sink just a little bit deeper into the couch cushion as he continues, “you know how I’ve always wanted to travel?”

“Of course,” she says, a softer smile suddenly appearing on her lips.  

“I always thought of that as some far away dream. Like, once I become an actual adult and have my life figured out, then I can take time off from my ‘real life’ to go see the world for myself. The only problem was…”

His voice trails off again, still unsure of what words he could use to best describe what lies in his heart. Thankfully, Penelope describes it for him.

“You never had any dreams for your so-called ‘real life?’”

“Exactly.” 

Though the window has since been shut tight, the air in the room remains quite cold. And yet, Colin feels a sudden warm sensation in the center of his chest; he does his best to ignore it as Penelope opens her mouth again.

“So you want to make a career out of travelling the world?”

“Something like that,” he mutters, his shoulders unconsciously shrugging upwards. “Though, when you put it like that… maybe I can understand Anthony’s reservations on the subject.” 

“Don’t say that,” Penelope insists, a gentle breath of nervous laughter on her lips. “Lots of people’s jobs revolve around travel. There’s nothing wrong with that.” With another tiny laugh, she adds, “And I’m sure a business degree from Cambridge will be useful in securing those future plans.” 

“I don’t know how true that is,” he admits, the words tasting sour on his tongue. 

In truth, Colin had no idea what he wanted to study or work towards when he first started at Cambridge at eighteen. He had chosen to study business simply because it seemed like the rational choice to make at the time. Unlike his older brothers, both of whom knew exactly what they wanted to do with their lives before they hit secondary school, Colin was late to such a realisation. It wasn’t until very recently that his hopes and dreams for the future started to solidify. 

“What do you mean?” Penelope asks.

“Well, obviously any degree from Cambridge will be useful for my future. I just meant…” He sucks in a cold breath of air. “If I were to go back in time and do it all over again, I wouldn’t have chosen business. I think I would have, uh, chosen something more in line with English Literature.” 

Once again, Penelope’s face lights up in the darkness.

“You want to write?” 

“Yeah.” He chuckles again. “I think so.” 

“Colin, that’s —” Penelope’s hand, which had previously been sitting limply in her lap, moves as if she’s about to reach out and touch his shoulder. It doesn’t in the end. It now rests on top of the couch in the space between them. “That’s a great idea. Truly.” 

That warm feeling makes a sudden reappearance in Colin’s chest. Again…

“Really? You’re not worried about what will happen if you’re no longer the only writer in this friendship?”

“No,” she insists, almost sounding defensive. “The world needs more good writers.” 

“Well, I don’t know if it’s fair to say —”

“You’re a good writer, Colin.” 

At her words (and the adorably serious manner in which she spoke them), Colin cannot help but laugh. 

“And you know this based on what? A few emails?” 

To claim Penelope has only received a “few” emails from him feels disingenuous. But still, he struggles to see her point. 

He sent the first email in January, shortly after returning to Cambridge from winter holiday and approximately six weeks after Penelope’s father passed. The email wasn’t about her dad or uni or anything in particular. If anything, it was a compilation of random thoughts (and several puns) he had collected in his brain in the five days that passed since they last spoke. 

He sent that first email on a Friday. She responded on the following Monday. He sent another on Friday. She responded again —

Suffice to say, a pattern emerged. Both of them missed a few Mondays and Fridays over the last eleven months (especially around the end of the spring term and the termination of his relationship with Marina), but even then… 

Penelope has read more of Colin’s writing than anyone else. More than even his professors at Cambridge.

“Yes, based on a few emails, Colin,” Penelope insists, rolling her eyes lightly. “Really, you are such a terrific writer. It doesn’t matter if it’s in an email to a friend — or in a term paper or a book or whatever it is that you want to do. I can tell that you like to write, and that’s really the fundamental requirement for becoming a writer.” 

That warm feeling in Colin’s chest is back and it feels like it’s about to leave a rash on his skin. 

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Colin sighs and leans a few inches away from Penelope. 

“Well… Thank you. But I believe Anthony would protest that last point.” 

“What do you mean?” Penelope asks, similarly drawing a few inches backwards. Her left hand falls back into her lap from the couch cushion. 

“Anthony is of the mindset that liking something isn’t enough of a reason to upend your life for that thing. He thinks the idea of me running off to another country after graduation and writing about my experiences is ‘silly.’ That if I want to be a writer, I should stay put, apply for a graduate program, and actually learn how to become one. Which…” 

His voice trails off, because saying it all out loud makes his own plans sound a lot more “silly” than he had originally thought. 

“Well…” Penelope starts. “In fairness to Anthony’s perspective, you can’t wake up one day, decide to be a lawyer, then go litigate a murder case at the courthouse down the street. But becoming a writer… It’s different than becoming a lawyer. Maybe Anthony isn’t the best person to talk to on the subject.” 

Colin nods, a vague hum of agreement on his lips as he thinks over her words. 

Maybe not so silly, after all.

“And Daphne? What did she say?” 

“Oh.” 

He had almost forgotten why they’re having this conversation in the first place. 

“She was more supportive than Anthony. I think I was just a bit frustrated because she didn’t seem to fully understand what it is that I want to do. She thinks I just want to fuck off for a year, then come home and figure out what to do with my ‘real life.’ Attend postgrad, get a job in an office, do… Do whatever it is that real adults do.”

Penelope doesn’t say anything right away. She’s looking at him in that way that makes it clear that she has a lot to say and is still figuring out how to say it. Before she can, he opens his mouth again.

“I shouldn’t be cross with her. Or Anthony, even. I just think — for my own sake — I need to commit to the idea. To go out and try to make something of myself without having a backup plan to revert to if I don’t succeed within a year’s time.” 

“Then you should go for it.” Her words come out quickly, in one determined breath — like she needs to get the words out before he continues rambling. “Anthony will come around. He probably just needs some time. And perhaps some perspective.” 

“Yeah, may—”

“What is it that you want to write, by the way?” Penelope asks, interrupting whatever further deflection he was surely about to throw her way. “A book about your travels?”

Colin considers the question. 

“No, I was thinking more in terms of a blog. Or,” he laughs, “a magazine, if they’d hire me. But I do like the idea of writing a book one day. Not any time soon, but once I’m older and wiser and have lived a little more, I think I’d like to have some written recollection of my experiences to look back on. That’s sort of the magic of writing, you know?” 

Penelope doesn’t confirm that last bit. She stays quiet as she gives him a look that says, “keep going.” 

“Like… When I was at Aubrey Hall last summer, I got bored one day and went snooping through my grandfather’s old study. When I did, I found this cardboard box in the back of his closet. It held all these little mementos from when he was on tour back in the forties. He kept so many journals from that time — all filled with these little details about what his life was like. Leaving England for the first time. Seeing the Eiffel Tower. Eating strudel in Vienna. Skinny dipping in the Danube. Wa—”

When Penelope lets out a surprised giggle, Colin can’t help but laugh, too. The bad mood that had been plaguing him all night has long since been forgotten. 

“Anyway… I read through approximately five years worth of those stories in one afternoon, and I just — I couldn’t help but think about how lasting the written word is. My grandfather died before I was born, and yet I learned so much about him just because I happened upon those old journals. Just because he sat down one afternoon seventy years ago and decided to write about the time he and a bunch of his army buddies stripped naked and jumped into a river.”

Penelope laughs again. So does Colin. 

“I just — I like that idea. That —” He inches forward to grab a little white napkin from the coffee table. “I could grab a pen, write about all the delectable food we ate here tonight, hide this in an archaic book on the shelf over there, then seventy years from now, my grandson could find it and understand just how ardently his grandfather loved eclairs.” 

Penelope laughs again. This time, the laugh is strong enough to make her lose a little bit of her resolve; when she tips forward, her forehead lightly brushes against his shoulder. 

“But like I said…” He says, only once Penelope has returned to an upright position on the next cushion over. “I think I need to live a little more before I even think about writing something as definitive as a book.” 

“Well… Whatever you end up writing, I’ll read it.” 

Colin laughs again. He can’t help it.

“You know — you’re quite the loyal reader, Pen. First you put up with my weekly long-winded, rambling emails, now you’re —”

“I don’t ‘put up’ with anything, Colin. You’re a terrific writer. I always enjoy reading your emails. Even if they almost always include one too many puns.”

“That’s debatable,” he mutters defensively, only able to cling onto those last few words.

“Even with the jarring amount of puns in your work —”

“Hey!”

“— your writing is good. You obviously have a passion for it, and that matters a hell of a lot more than a lit degree.” 

Penelope takes a breath. Speaking a bit more softly now… 

“Possessing a passion is important. It will fill your hours with a sense of purpose. When others doubt you or success seems illusive, that passion will drive you to keep going. To achieve something definitive — something you can look back on decades from now and be proud of.”

When Penelope stops speaking, Colin is reminded of that inability he possessed just a few minutes ago — the one that made it impossible to finish his sentences without trailing off into oblivion. It definitely wasn’t the joint. (The more he thinks about it, the more apparent it becomes that Benedict’s “present” was nothing more than a few grams of oregano rolled into a little white paper.) 

No. A few minutes ago, Colin was unable to properly put his hopes and dreams into words without trailing off or sounding like an arsehole — just as he has been unable to do for several months now. But now… 

Now he can. Now it all makes sense. 

After thanking Penelope for her kind, insightful words, Colin decides it is time for this discussion to alter course.

“And what of your dreams, Pen?” 

Penelope doesn’t answer right away. Though the room around them is still rather dark, Colin’s eyes have adjusted enough to see the blush that quickly forms on her cheeks. 

“You know I’m studying to become a journalist,” she says, which is more of a protest of his question than an actual answer. 

Of course he knows that. Unlike Colin, Penelope knew what she wanted to do with her life long before she began attending university. But despite their increased correspondence over the last few months, Penelope never really talks about why she made that choice. 

“Obviously. But what is it that you’re so passionate about? What fills your hours with purpose?” 

She considers his questions.

“I don’t know. I always loved reading, and that just naturally bled into a love of writing.” 

“Okay,” he says belatedly, not initially realising that was her entire response. “But why journalism? Why not fiction or poetry or —” Colin chuckles. “Travel writing?”

“I don’t know,” she says again. “I just — I’ve always been interested in people’s stories. Real people’s stories. One day, I might wake up and suddenly want to write a romance novel or a children’s story, but right now… Journalism feels like the right fit for me.”

After another prolonged silence, Colin asks, “What interests you about real people’s stories?” 

“I don’t know,” she says for a third time. “People are just so… complicated. Everyone has a million stories inside of them. That’s the fun part of interviewing people — finding ways to get those interesting, hidden details into the light.”

In the back of his mind, Colin wonders if Penelope has been practising that particular skill on him during this conversation. He waives the thought away before it can fully develop. 

“Is there an area of journalism you’re specifically interested in?”

Before answering his question, Penelope scrunches her nose, then lets out a forced breath of laughter. 

“Colin, I don’t know why you’re getting so caught up in the small details of it. What my dream is now could be different than what it is ten years from now — or even two years from now. However I choose to spend my hours, I just hope that I have a purpose to drive me. Something satisfying and fulfilling. Something that will challenge me to be brave and witty. Something to propel me forward and set me free.”

It takes Colin a moment to realise that he has been stunned into silence. Thankfully, he’s able to pull himself out of the daze with a little effort. 

“What could possibly measure up to all of that?” 

She shrugs. “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.” 

They sit in a shared silence for a moment. Colin wishes he could hear what is going on in Penelope’s head; his is filled with her voice. 

Something to propel me forward and set me free.

“I think it’s amazing that —”

“Oh, stop,” she says, another forced laugh on her lips. Though she remains rooted in her spot on the couch, Penelope’s face turns away from Colin and towards the nearest door. For the first time in several minutes, he remembers that there’s still a party going on downstairs. His party.

“It’s late,” she says. “Don’t pay too much mind my silly little words.” 

“I think your dreams are bigger than you let on, Pen.” 

She turns back towards him, eyes meeting his again through the darkness. 

“Weren’t we discussing your dreams?”

Yes, but he much prefers this subject.

“I —” 

“What’s holding you back? Is it just your siblings’ reactions?” 

“No,” he admits. “There are certainly bigger obstacles than Anthony’s lack of enthusiasm.” 

“Such as?” 

Colin doesn’t respond right away. While his concerns may be easier to conceptualise than his hopes or his dreams, they’re harder to speak aloud. 

“Well… Working as a travel writer would also mean spending the majority of my time away from home.” 

For the first time tonight, a strikingly sad expression flashes on Penelope’s face, as if it is only now that she realises the consequences of Colin’s dreams coming true. It’s only a flash, though. Her smile makes a quick reappearance, even if it isn’t quite as bright as it was before. 

“You already spend the majority of your time away from home.”

“Yeah, but Cambridge is only two hours away. Plus, Eloise is there to annoy me if I’m ever feeling homesick. If I’m off in a different timezone the majority of the year…” 

His voice trails off again. This time, Penelope doesn’t jump in to fill the lull.

“Is it awful to say I’m worried that life will move on without me here if I’m away?”

“No, it’s not awful.” Penelope’s smile looks even sadder than it did before, but it doesn’t drop. “I think a lot of people worry about that, regardless of their career paths. I think that’s just part of growing up.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean…” 

Her voice trails off as she looks away from him and towards the ceiling, seemingly racking her brain for the right words to use. It only takes her a few seconds to find them.

“When you’re growing up, your world is pretty small. You have your siblings and your neighbours and your friends at school, and for the most part, that world is stable. Some people move away and you lose touch with others, but most people remain a constant. But then as you get older and leave for uni or work or wherever it is that life takes you, the world is suddenly really, really big. 

“Those people who made up your entire world when you were younger are still there, but their lives aren’t intertwined with yours like they used to be. It’s more like they’re running parallel. Like… you know all those emails we send back and forth?” 

It takes Colin a rather long moment to respond, and all he can muster in the end is a single nod. 

“We’re still in each other’s lives, but the stories we share with each other are… separate.”

It takes him even longer to respond to that last part. 

“Pen… Was that meant to be reassuring? That was the most depressing thing I’ve heard in my entire life.” 

“Oh stop.” Penelope laughs half-heartedly. “It’s not depressing — it’s just life. Actually, it’s a bloody miracle. We should be thankful that our friendship has lasted so long, despite how much our worlds have changed over the years.”

After another extremely long beat of silence, Colin musters what little energy he has left to draw the faintest hint of a smirk to his lips. 

“So, what you’re saying is… You will not miss me if I disappear to a different country every week?” 

Penelope’s forced smile finally drops. She rolls her eyes. 

“Obviously, I’ll miss you. But that’s no reason for you to stay home and prevent yourself from reaching your full potential.” 

And just like that, Colin is eighteen again, not seconds away from turning twenty-two. He and Penelope are on Fife’s rooftop, not on the couch in his family’s drawing room. He’s hopeful for the future, not scared that their friendship won’t survive this next phase of life. 

“I —” Penelope starts, back on the couch in his family’s drawing room. Colin has no idea what it is that she is about to say, because he leans in and hugs her, incidentally muffling her words with his cable knit sweater.

With his lips practically in her hair, he whispers, “Thank you. For being so supportive.” 

Penelope doesn’t respond until approximately 25 seconds later, after she breaks the embrace apart and looks him in the eye. 

“You don’t have to thank me for my silly little words.” 

Before Colin can find an adequate response to such a ridiculous statement, Penelope removes herself from his touch completely. She stands from her spot on the couch and looks down at him as she continues speaking. 

“It’s getting late, I should get…” 

Her voice trails off when her eyes land on her phone. She smiles. 

“Look,” she instructs, holding up the screen for him to see. 

12:01 AM. 

“Happy Birthday, Colin.” 

Now standing beside her, Colin takes the phone from her hands, smirks, then throws it gently onto the couch. The cushions are still indented in the spots they sat together. 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Pen.” 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

“No debating that one, I suppose. What’s next?” 

#I have to stop posting at 3 am #it took me 2 days to realize there was no link in this post #(and another day to realize I added the wrong link!) #(all fixed now. if I manage to post on time without tech issues on friday I'll invade France) #polin #fanfiction #bridgerton #weepingfromacedartree #fanfic #ao3 #ten milestones #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #penelope x colin

[lintwriting]

I'm making this post to compile the Weibo allegations against Jullian Champenois, the voice actor for Kim Kitsuragi, since I found navigating the screenshots to be a bit confusing. I've translated some of them to the best of my ability and would definitely be open to others reviewing these translations for errors, as I am Chinese American and therefore could be missing some cultural context. I've linked to Chinese definition websites to explain some of the translation choices that are more inferences.

The rest of the translations are from 阿阮 @woon__ton on twitter, who has been in contact with the original Weibo poster to ask for permission for their translated reposts, as well as permission for my repost here.

Outline of the Weibo Post

The allegations originated from a post on Weibo by a Chinese artist. The body of the post contains a summary of their experience, and attached are:

Screenshots of their personal Instagram DMs with Jullian

A screenshot of an older post where they express feeling weary about Jullian's DMs

Screenshot of vent messages demonstrating how this experience has affected their work.

After posting, other commenters chimed in with similar experiences, and this caused the original poster to update the original post.

They first updated it with a screenshot showing them blocking Jullian Champenois

Next, a testimony from a commenter

A second testimony from another commenter

Screenshots of DMs from that second commenter

*Update: Additional testimony from the original poster

The Body of the Original Weibo Post

Below will be screenshots of the body of the original Weibo post, with translations from @woon__ton on twitter.

(via 阿阮 @woon__ton on twitter)

This text was later edited to update about the additional testimonies and to add greater context. The added context explains how the Weibo poster could tell that Jullian Champenois's DMs were targeted, unprofessional, and sexual in nature, as the poster had gone through a similar situation before with another creator. The updated context is translated below.

* I realized something was wrong so quickly because I had a similar experience at the end of 2019. Scott lobdell, a DC comic writer and screenwriter of Happy Death Day, came back to like my drawings and privately messaged me after I followed him on Instagram. His account at that time was nuked (chinese internet slang for when accounts get banned or suddenly have all their content taken down) [so I can't access the logs anymore], so I don’t remember the content of the chat, but for specific news discussions, you can google the keyword “Scott Lobdell sex harrasment”. This situation is very common in the industry. They deliberately prey on people from their fan lists.

For context, Scott Lobdell, from what I can tell, would hit on young female artists working at the same cons as him, both in person and in text messages, with implications of him holding his position in the industry over them.

Although the Weibo poster can no longer access the log of Scott's harassment of them because his account got banned/deleted (at least, I think that's what the usage of 'nuke' is saying, they could also be saying that their own account got nuked), they note how their chat with Jullian Champenois was reminiscent of the same conversation they had with Scott Lobdell—a man known and 'retired' for his harassment of young female artists.

Lobdell's harassment is a good example for context due to how he demonstrates the inappropriateness of 'flirting' and hitting on young female artists in professional contexts.

1. Screenshots of their personal DMs with Jullian Champenois

Below are the screenshots of the Instagram DMs the Weibo Poster had with Julllian Champenois. Note the profile picture, as his profile picture will look the same across other screenshots with him in it.

Also note the way the conversation starts out polite, focused on both of their respective arts. Then he shifts the conversation to sexual topics, first by mentioning his explicit song, then by suddenly bringing up an explicit art account, @ken_chk, they were both following. The Weibo poster steers the conversation away from these topics.

They also mention this in the comments, but they find the fact that he asked their age, ethnicity, and sexuality afterwards to also be suspicious/sexual in nature. The sentiment being "Why would the artist's age matter?" or "Why would you fixate on me potentially being 17 years old when I've mentioned college graduation finals?" or "Why would you ask that if not for sexual reasons?"

@woon__ton on twitter notes that he is seemingly consistently looking for college aged girls, and other commenters/victims got the sense that the strange insistent questions about nationality were related to "yellow fever."

2. Weibo Screenshot of an older post where they express feeling weary about Jullian's Dms

The next attached photo was a screenshot of a Weibo post the Weibo poster had made in 2023. I'm assuming that in this screenshot that they're talking about Jullian Champenois, since this whole post is about him.

First I'll be transcribing the translation. Then I'll be clarifying the idioms/translation choices with asterisks, before giving an overall summary of the screenshot.

Feel free to skip to the 2. Summary section, as the translation clarification section is a little long.

“It reminds me a bit of my PTSD, the last time I was praised in private [instagram] DMs it was the Scott Lobdell [situation] where [he] later disappeared from the internet for some reason[.] I don't remember the reasoning, but at the time I had suddenly felt that he was kind of creepy so I indirectly lost my interest on Jason Todd(桶 is the Chinese nickname of Todd/Red Hood, Lobdell was the writer of n52 Redhood comic). It was not a good experience haha..." * "I feel that there is a cultural difference where Chinese people may take getting sent private messages out of nowhere a bit harder. It may also be a me problem. Maybe I am a Sakura girl at heart (internet slang, sakura is the culture symbol of Japan so it’s the nickname of Japanese girl, they tend to be a little bit more shy and social in a more careful and polite way to avoid offending anyone, no negative meaning behind this). uneasy desu ('I am anxious' but using the word desu to stand in for "I am")" "I don't remember the timeline, but it seemed like someone in the industry accused him of sexually harassing young female artists." “As a result, even when I am excited, I am still very wary of people because I have become disillusioned."

*UPDATE: I have updated this post''s translation with clarification from the Weibo poster.

I translated a phrase as "pulled up carrot," but it was actually the transliteration of Scott Lobdell's name into Chinese. I translated a phrase as "climbing the wall" "bucket," but it was actually the Chinese fandom term for 'no longer liking' and the Chinese name for Jason Todd.

In addition, I translated Sakura Girl as (slang based on Japanese animation, meaning a delicately stupid young girl) but the poster has clarified that Sakura girl is not supposed to have a deprecating connotation. The focus is on shyness or politeness, not stupidity!

I will keep my first translations in the next few paragraphs in to maintain transparency and to keep some necessary information, but they are no longer accurate. The paragraphs in brackets can be skipped over.

[[[[[The full idiom goes "the pulled up carrot also pulls up mud," or the idea that investigating a criminal who was arrested first can lead to the exposure of other criminals. The same way pulling a carrot out will pull loose some dirt, exposing one person may also dig up dirt on their associates.

With the mention of "later disappeared from the internet," I think the Weibo poster was referencing Scott Lobdell, whose account was nuked and who also had privately DM'd them with praise/sexual advances. The implication could be that the last time they got DM'd like this, it was in a creepy way and they were too afraid to speak out for fear of getting attacked/exposed themselves. Or that he disappeared to avoid getting exposed. This paragraph is a little unclear.

The 'pulled up carrot' situation might also have something to do with the explicit artist, ken_chk, mentioned in the DMs with Jullian. The weibo poster clarifies in a later edit that they didn't censor @ken_chk's handle in the screenshots because ken_chk was also embroiled in a sexual scandal involving targeting his fans.

"*About why I didn't delete the artist Ken mention in the chat history—because he was the reason why I raised the alarm. One of the reasons is that I read something about his character on Weibo about a few months ago. I just forgot to unfollow him on Instagram. I can’t find any evidence about what he did, but the Internet has testimonies, so I won't write it off." "* Regarding the artist Ken, the matter has been issued with the consent of the person involved. According to the person involved, Ken will also select fans to target. Please see the person’s experience for details"

So another implication could be that Jullian bringing up such a shady person in the DMs unprompted demonstrates his shady associations. Jullian is the 'carrot pulling up the mud' by doing so.

For context, the poster had felt the need to disavow ken_chk by clarifying that they had only been still following ken_chk by accident. Jullian still following him and even bringing him up unprompted could be a bad look in light of the similar allegations of misconduct surrounding both him and ken_chk.

I am unsure though, as I am not very familiar with this idiom, nor am I familiar with the allegations against ken_chk listed here. I could be totally misinterpreting this line of the post and the ken_chk edit, as I've had to infer some pronouns and commas that weren't originally there due to the nature of Chinese grammar.

'Climbing the wall,' in addition to cheating, can seem to mean getting over obstacles in various contexts, like getting over the firewall to pirate stuff. However, I've translated it as 'cheating' as there's the word "bucket" that follows it. Bucket is also a word for 'trash,' so it'd make sense to translate it as 'cheating trash.'

Later another victim who responded in the comments accounted that by sexually harassing them, Jullian Champenois was also potentially cheating on his girlfriend that they knew he had at the time, lending more credence to the idea that wall climbing comment is about Jullian, though I am still unsure.]]]]]

2. Summary Section

I think this post was first made right after Jullian first messaged the Weibo poster with the innocent messages about their art back in October 2023, months before the more recent sexual DMs from him on March 30th, 2024.

Despite the polite nature of these October DMs, the Weibo poster was weary of Jullian's DMs in this first 2023 post, mentioning how in the past they had gotten similar DMs from Scott Lobdell, only for those complimentary DMs to later be revealed as openings for sexual advances. Their 'PTSD,' as they put it.

In addition, they note a potential cultural difference between Chinese netizens and Western/English-speaking ones. It might be a bigger deal in China to get send someone DMs. Maybe it's more intimate/intimidating/professional, in contrast to it potentially being more casual in the West.

With the summary out of the way, I do want to say that some Western netizens have responded to the later DMs with the sentiment of "these are not examples of harassment, just flirting in bad taste," but this could be related to the cultural mismatch the poster mentioned here.

Getting flirted with in the DMs is very normal to a lot of people in the West, as 'sliding into their DMs' is synonymous with flirting, but perhaps in China, either this is not the norm or Jullian's type of flirting is not the norm, especially within the context of a professional art account.

If you find yourself thinking the same way as those western netizens, I'd ask you to reframe Jullian's DMs less as a casual instagram DM, and more like a work slack or LinkedIn message from a colleague/client, as the DMs we have been/will be talking about are in the context of their own work or hiring him for work. This should help you get a better sense of why the victims felt uncomfortable.

3. Screenshot of Weibo poster's vent messages demonstrating how this has affected their work

The next attached photo was a screenshot of vent texts. I'm not sure the context of the texts, but the content is definitely about their regrets with Jullian Champenois.

Why shouldn't I just be frank and rant a little? I want to be so woke (as in another way to say clear-headed, not related to American progressive slang) that you'll see me awake, anaesthesia-free on the operating table when they cut me open[.] Do you get me[?] Well Any way you look at it, I'm miserable On top of all this, I've got a big graduation project that's in comic form. That comic was adapting the poem that is currently acting as my temporary nicotine replacement for my disco elysium withdrawals*** So I would listen to [Jullian Champenois's] songs at the time God, it hurts so much Luckily, my nicotine replacement was for another character (they're probably saying that the poem reminded them of another disco elysium character, not Kim Kitsuragi, hence their relief) For a moment there, I was thinking of to talking to him about my graduation project and about disco elysium.

*** So I'm making the assumption that the original poster is talking about a graduation project that they're working on. Since they're an artist, it's a comic that they're making. They then say something about an original poem. They use the word that means "original" in the context of adaptation, like the original book a movie is based off of. So the full phrase is 'the comic's original poem,' which I'm taking to mean that they're adapting a poem into comic form.

This is relevant because I think they're trying to say that the poem is currently the thing they're obsessing over while waiting for more Disco Elysium content. They use the term "meal replacement," which seems to be a Chinese fandom term referring to the content people look at during a fandom drought—like people hitting the end of all the Disco Elysium content out there and deciding to check out Pathologic, since they've heard that game scratches the same itch.

So I think this screenshot is supposed to be them venting their feelings about how this situation with Jullian made them feel. They want to be clear-headed about his actions, even if it makes them feel miserable. And they note how his actions have tainted their experience working on a Disco Elysium-inspired comic.

1. Screenshot of the Weibo Poster Blocking Jullian Champenois

After talking with other commenters, the Weibo poster posted their closing remarks with Jullian Champenois, especially noting how he used their work and their interest in his work as a pretense for flirting with them instead of genuine artistic interest.

2. Next, testimony from a commenter

(translation via 阿阮 @woon__ton on twitter)

阿阮 @woon__ton also notes that "If anyone questions why I didn't release the screenshots, it's because this fan suffered severe trauma and was unable to provide the original chat log."

3. A second testimony from another commenter

Hello blogger, I also suffered sexual harassment from Jullian at the end of last year. Because my friends know that I like Disco Elysium very much, [they] said [they] could give me an autograph. I was very excited and happy at the time. A few days later, Jullian himself said that he could add me on WeChat, so I could directly tell him what I wanted him to sign. I was so happy and felt very lucky. After that, he was always very polite and took the initiative to chat with me, but within a few days he started to sexually harass me. I can't find the chat records from that time, only one or two that were sent to friends. I was very disillusioned at the time…so I blocked him, but he added me on New Year's Day. After I saw your Weibo, I remembered this incident again. He was really disgusting… I loved Disco Elysium so much, but he ruined it all. Okay, I hope you can share this. He is a habitual criminal and has yellow fever, and likes to chat up Chinese girls. At the same time last year, I searched for his name on Weibo and found that many people who followed him on Instagram were greeted by him. Everyone thought he was very nice, but that‘s not the case. When I first added him, I didn't expect him to talk to me a lot. Because it was such a surprise, I expressed a lot of my love for Disco Elysium and Kim. He asked me if I knew about Kim's sexuality. When I told him that I knew, he emphasized that he was a straight man, and then asked a lot about exchanging private information. After he sexually harassed me, I couldn't even tell him off for it because my friend was_____, I was waiting until he left _____ before I could block him. After I rejected him, he was still interested in striking up another conversation. I said that I knew he had a girlfriend, and it was very strange to do this. He said that his girlfriend didn't care and knew that he was doing it, which 'was its own kind of fun.' Made me feel very sick.

4. DM Screenshots from the Second Commenter

This commenter then submitted DMs that Jullian had sent them. The original poster has shared them, noting that the profile pic is clearly Jullian's.

This commenter also commented that the friends they had mentioned also had similar experiences with Jullian Champenois, which could push the number of victims to 4+.

I'd also like to share a comment on the original Weibo post from this same commenter:

"This incident did not affect my playing of Disco Elysium (the voice will be turned off hhh), but I really felt a huge spiritual pain, like my faith was completely shattered, like the statue of the Innocence in the church turned into a smelly rotten rag."

Additions

In addition, there is a testimony from a third person not attached on the post, which @woon__ton posted on twitter. It can be found here, and it outlines how an anonymous user paid Jullian in a professional context to voice for a product for her, only for him to make an unprofessional advance on her. Although the harassment is not directly shown in the WeChat screenshot, his apology for his inappropriate behavior is shown.

This testifier would like to remain anonymous.

*5 Update: Additional Testimony from the original poster on Weibo

The original poster is emphasizing the predatory nature of Jullian's DMs, differentiating them from the "just awkward flirting" narrative that some Western/English speaking people have had in response to these allegations.

First of all, his "yellow fever" aspect of specifically asking about Chinese girls, who are often fetishized to be more shy/submissive/less likely to talk. But in this case, it's also him specifically being inappropriate with people for whom there is a language/cultural barrier, making it harder for them to speak out—either due to a literal language barrier between them and his Western audience, or the plausible deniability of all this being a 'cultural misunderstanding' (which is very unlikely, since Jullian has apparently lived in China and therefore is very aware of the norms there).

Second of all, his usage of a professional/work account to make sexual advances. Again, comparisons to the Scott Lobdell situation should be made, as they highlight why it's sleazy to use their work as an excuse/opening to make sexual advances on someone. Not only does it cross boundaries, but it's also not treating the artist with the respect they deserve as someone just trying to work.

Closing

The Weibo poster would prefer if people not follow them on Weibo over this situation, as they posted the situation on their work/professional art account, and it is painful for them to see too many notifications about this.

They also note that they still love Disco Elysium and Kim Kitsuragi and that the allegations against Jullian Champenois should not reflect on the dev team of Disco Elysium, as there were also women working on the team, etc.

With this post, I've tried my best to accurately convey the sentiments of the original poster of the Weibo without commenting on the proof or the legality or what the ramifications should be or how we should interpret this, etc (beyond a quick mention of a potential cultural clash). I'll update the post with better translations if something comes up or if anybody mentions any suggestions/clarifications.

#disco elysium #jullian champenois #kim kitsuragi

[chiqelatasblog]

CHAPTER FIVE : I don’t want to know more about you. (But I want to…)

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Chapter Four link is here.

Pairing : Sub-Zero / Bi-Han x Reader

Summary : Nearly a month has passed since you first joined the Lin Kuei, and as you spend time with Bi-Han, you started to realize some things about him and also about yourself.

.

.

.

15 years ago…

“May I join you too?”

It had been a few months since you turned eight, and there were a few other kids close to your age in the clan. When you weren’t undergoing martial arts training, you still attended noble womanly pursuits, as deemed by your father. The time you could spend by yourself was so limited that, at times fatigue seemed to permeate every moment.

Fortunately, there was an exception today. Your teacher, responsible for teaching etiquette, fell ill. Upon discovering that your afternoon would be unoccupied, you pondered how to fill the empty space. The last time you had such wide-open time, the wound in your throat had yet to heal. You spent those days in your room, drawing pictures, reading books your mother brought you, and indulging in the very activity your father despised the most: daydreaming.

Your father was a man who was firmly attached to a sense of reality. He was an idealist, he believed in reality, not dreams. He always talked about how daydreaming distorts the perception of reality, disconnects from goals and leads to the wrong path, so he never wanted any of his children to dream.

However, since your powers were discovered, you were left alone and as you relied more on your umbrakinesis, this isolation also fueled your imagination. Reality often brought pain, while in your own dream world, you felt safer and happier. No one could harm you there, everything followed your control and will.

But since your father changed his mind and decided that you should take martial art training with the others, you haven’t even had time to think properly, let alone dream. The moment your head touched the pillow, you were falling into a deep sleep. You couldn’t even have your nightmares as usual because of the fatigue. The rigorous training left you so physically exhausted that not even your subconscious could conjure the haunting visions that usually plagued your sleep.

It had been two and a half years since the wound on your throat had healed. Given the intense pace of the past two and a half years, it was quite normal for you to feel stunned now, unsure of what to do.

As three children argued about who should be the next “it,” all turned their heads, looking at you with distant eyes when you posed the question.

Unsettled by the prolonged silence, you attempted to ease the tension with a friendly smile. Being the grandmaster’s daughter had always created a distance between you and others in the clan. Here was no exception.

“I suppose you’re playing hide and seek. I really like this game!” you exclaimed cheerfully. The tallest boy among them—Wang, you recalled—squinted his eyes suspiciously and crossed his arms.

“Wherever the shadows touch, you will find us immediately. How do we know if you’re going to cheat or not?” he questioned.

“Yes!” added another. “We can’t trust you!’’

Panic immediately entered your voice.

‘’No, no! I wouldn’t do that. I promise you! My mother has always advised me to be on the side of honesty.”

As the silence lingered once again, a familiar sense of discomfort and exclusion enveloped you. When would you truly become a part of the clan? The first time you vocalized this thought to your mother, she grew angry, instructing you to banish such ideas. In her eyes, you already held a respectable place as the grandmaster’s daughter. Yet, both of you acknowledged the truth—the assassination attempt being the clearest example.

“Let’s let her play the first round. If we see you cheating, you can’t play with us, okay?” the last boy spoke, taking charge in a way that indicated he was the leader of this small group.

The chance given to you filled your heart with excitement and happiness, a broad smile adorning your face. It felt unexpectedly easy. In the past, with your brothers you’d beg to be part of the game, enduring insults, hair-pulling, and tripping that left you bleeding. However, you had outgrown such pleas, tired of the mistreatment.

“All right! Shall I start counting?” you said, eager to begin.

“Put your face against that oak tree,” the leader directed, pointing to the sizable trunk nearby. “We can’t afford for you to peek.”

Nodding eagerly, you placed your hands against the rough bark of the tree, burying your head between them. Your cheeks turned a rosy hue with anticipation as you felt the rough texture beneath your fingers.

“Count to thirty!”

As you counted aloud, the distant echoes of footsteps retreated on the dew-kissed grass. When you reached thirty, you excitedly turned around, carefully observing the surroundings. Despite the bright weather and the sun overhead, the residual chill in the air left it a bit muddy, marking the arrival of spring.

Moving forward with small, cautious steps, you searched every bush, tree, and nook and cranny in your field of vision, being careful not to make too much noise and disturb the serene atmosphere.

“(y/n), what are you doing?”

At the unexpected sound of your father’s deep, resonant voice you froze in place. Fear misfired through your heart, giving you the strength to turn around and face him. He stood a little away, observing you with his usual cold gaze. Although accustomed to that look, his power over you was evident. Your father’s imposing presence always scared you, making you nervous and timid.

It seemed the only way to please him was to stand next to him, as if you were a trinket without breathing.

“I-I was playing hide and seek.” you said in a voice that was barely audible. When your father’s eyebrows furrowed against your answer, it felt like your heart might stop beating right there.

“What happened to today’s lesson?” As your father approached, his presence seemed to crush the world around you. Unable to answer, your lower jaw trembled with fear, and your tongue felt heavy inside your mouth. His dominant presence often did more than physical force.

He never raised a hand to you, but his words were as sharp as a knife, and his heavy, dominating aura weighed on you. When he stood right on top of you, you tilted your head back, trying not to tremble under his imposing size. Showing fear was another thing he detested, a sign of weakness.

“I asked you a question, girl.”

“I found out that Mrs. Cheng has contracted pneumonia. When there was no lesson, I thought-”

“What did you think?” your father interjected. Although his voice sounded calm, the underlying rage made you tremble. “How many times do I have to repeat this to get it into that thick little head of yours; you don’t have time for this kind of nonsense. You’re not anyone’s daughter. Don’t embarrass me and our clan any more and go back to your studies.”

While your father practically pinned you with his eyes, the rustling bushes behind you revealed the children who were hiding. As your father humiliated you in front of them, your cheeks flushed with shame, and your eyes shone with tears that you resisted not to shed. Clenching your small fists, you bowed your head to hide your tears.

“Very well, sir.” you muttered in a bitter voice.

With a sigh, your father said, “Fall in front of me.” Obliged to obey, you started walking along the path to the temple. Though you felt the children’s eyes watching you and heard their whispers, you avoided looking at them due to your shame.

As the temple came into view, you saw your older and middle brothers, one year apart, laughing and pointing fingers at you. The pain in your heart surged, and you made a great effort not to cry. The distance with your brothers and the clan seemed insurmountable. Even if you managed to get closer, somehow they were still moving away from you. Swallowing hard, you swore at that very moment.

You were going to prove yourself to everyone in the clan, especially your father.

No matter what happens.

Today…

You were nervous.

It was the first letter you were going to send to your brother since you came to Lin Kuei. In the letter, you didn’t mention being poisoned and almost coming back from death. The first reason for this was to prevent your brother from starting a war when you had not yet gathered useful information. The second reason was that you didn’t want him to humiliate you for not noticing the poison.

So, without touching on the subject at the moment, you talked about your new life here and the closeness you had begun to establish with the clan members. Especially with Bi-Han, you started to communicate even if it was a little. Your conversations usually revolved around the books he brought you from his mother’s library, which you were forbidden to enter. Surprisingly, Bi-Han had read most of them, maintaining a secretive attitude but not holding back from making a few comments.

He was busy, spending almost all of his day taking care of the affairs of his clan. Even if you only saw him at meals, it made it difficult to further the small communication you had established with him.

Aside from that, it was much easier for you to get along with the others compared to Bi-Han. The only exception was Frost. The woman was as inaccessible as an ice castle, vowing not to talk to you. She was ranked in the top five among the most talented and successful warriors in the clan, and having her assigned as your bodyguard frustrated both her and you. You tried to initiate a dialogue with her more than once to make it feel less like a duty, but the constant surveillance was starting to infuriate you. As long as this situation continued, gathering information about Lin Kuei would be challenging.

Everything you’d learned so far was superficial. Forbidden from entering the archive, the only way to go unnoticed was to use your powers. To do this, you had to create the appropriate moment, but doubts lingered. Ninjas patrolling and Bi-Han lingered into the late hours of the night. A few nights ago, you observed Cyrax walking around with other ninjas.

After adding the last lines to your letter, you created a crow out of the shadows. The only shining place on the crow, standing in a black state, was its beady eyes, having the same eye color as yours. Stroking the crow’s head and under its chin, you inhaled deeply.

You could already anticipate the response your brother would send, filled with humiliation and pressure to accelerate your progress. But Bi-Han was a unique individual, different from anyone you knew, carrying a bit of each of them but forming a distinct persona.

He was bound by traditions, his clan was more important to him than anything else, maybe even more than himself. Perhaps the woman who poisoned you was genuinely innocent, but even that couldn’t be fully proven. Bi-Han considered eliminating her a reasonable option. Whether he liked it or not, you were his wife now, and you represented Lin Kuei. Everything done to you was directly related to him.

This fact bothered you more than the invasion of your privacy in recent days. You accepted this mission knowing the consequences, but facing the truth turned out differently than you hoped. On the other hand, your mother had always instilled in you from childhood that there is hope in every despair. Maybe it was a sign for you to look at ways to turn this situation in your favor. If you could find a way to take the reins into your own hands, who knows, maybe you could even change the course.

Folding the letter you had written, you stamped your seal on it and handed it to the crow’s beak to carry. Then, with a graceful movement of the wrist, you created a portal in the middle of the room, again from the shadows, commanding the crow with a nod to pass into it.

The crow quietly passed right through the portal after a few flaps of its wings and disappeared out of sight, and the portal disappeared on its own right behind him with its departure.

You stood up with another deep breath. It was about to come to dinner, and when you left your room to go to the table before the others, two ninjas waiting outside the door moved with you.

Since you learned about the temple’s layout, it took you only a few minutes to find the dining room now. When you got to the room, one of the ninjas opened the sliding door for you, and after you entered, they waited outside the room, closing the door behind you.

When you noticed Sektor inside, except for you, you said, ‘‘Good evening.’’ Sektor responded in the same way by making a small greeting with his head.

‘’You’re early today.’’

‘’I’m going on a mission to America tomorrow. That’s why I finished my work early,’’ said Sektor, collapsing into his usual chair. And when you took your place at the head of the table next to Bi-Han, you took a small sip of the water placed in the glass in front of you.

After what happened, you hesitated once or twice about touching something to your mouth, but after seeing the protection provided to you and the precautions taken, this hesitation disappeared in a very short time.

While the water refreshed you and slowly calmed the tension you were feeling because of the letter, you quietly studied Sektor. He had a strong physique like every other warrior in the clan. His long black hair was always massed in a tight ponytail, and his beard was neatly shaved.

You had limited information about him. He wasn’t much of a talker compared to the others; he had a tough stance and judgmental looks, much like Bi-Han. You had heard how fast and ruthless he was when fighting while the members around him were talking among themselves. One of the people Bi-Han trusted the most was Sektor, without a doubt.

‘’How do you feel? You seem to have recovered quite a bit since the last time I saw you.’’

“I am being well taken care of, thank you,” you said with a smile that you hoped seemed convincing. Although most of the clan still viewed you as an outsider, an extension of the enemy clan, you couldn’t ignore the care shown for your health and safety.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

‘’Do you think that woman was innocent?’’ you asked at once.

“What made you think of that question?” Sektor raised one of his black eyebrows, looking at you with a questioning expression. You took another sip of your water before answering, keeping your gaze expressionless.

“Tomas was with me that day, and the woman told him that if he wanted to drink tea, she could bring a cup. I honestly don’t think she would have made such an offer if she had known that there really was poison in it. I may be a stranger to you, but Tomas is one of you, and on top of that, Bi-Han’s brother.’’

‘’You are also his wife,’’ Sektor said, voicing the simple truth.

‘’Yes, but many of you have not yet been able to accept this fact.’’

“Ginger has a pungent smell, a logical material that can be used to make it difficult for you to choose the poison.’’

‘’Still, I really don’t think she’s the one who planned this. Is it right that it was decided to kill her before this was clarified?’’

Sektor, leaning back in his chair, drew a breath so loud that you could hear it. He put his own glass between his fingers, looking into the it with thoughtful eyes.

‘’Our clan is strictly bound by traditions, so the punishments used to be heavier. As a penalty for certain crimes, not only the person but also their entire family was sentenced to death along with them. In the event of an assassination attempt against you, it does not matter whether this person is innocent or not; the fact that they took part in this act is considered quite sufficient reason for their murder.’’ He went on, taking a sip of his water just like you.

‘‘My respect and loyalty to Bi-Han are absolute. After the death of his father, he made great innovations to move the clan forward. But sometimes he can succumb to his anger, and at those moments, even if we try to give him common sense as council members, he won’t hear anyone. It is impossible to change his mind when he makes a decision.’’

‘’Then what does it matter to the council if he is doing what he knows in the end?’’

From the way you asked the question, it was clear that you were really curious about the answer and trying to decipher the dynamic between them. A small smile appeared on Sektor’s face.

“Bi-Han can get angry easily, but he knows his responsibilities better than anyone. He is very strong-willed to fulfill them. Exceptions do not break the pedestal.’’

‘’So you’re saying that under all his scary appearance, he’s reasonable as long as we don’t touch a sore point?’’

‘’Isn’t it just like everybody?’’ Sektor said, the smile on his face widening a little more. ‘’I’m going to tell you a secret, like you, I think the woman is innocent. She doesn’t know who’s behind this.’’ When he said these things, he had made his voice too quiet for those outside to hear. You asked curiously.

‘‘How can you speak so confidently?’’

‘’I was present during the interrogation, and it became evident from the woman’s body language and speech that she had no knowledge of the situation.’’

‘‘And what is the secret part of it?’’

‘’The woman is alive.” Sektor left the glass in his hand on the table, leaned his chin on his clasped hands, and while he continued to talk to you without breaking eye contact, he maintained a dominant presence that held your attention.

‘’How so? Did you disobey Bi-Han’s orders?’’

‘’Partly. To be more precise, I can say I saved the life of an innocent person by taking her away from here.’’

’‘Oh.’’ You sat back, not knowing what to say. ‘’And why did you share this with me? You don’t even trust me.’’

‘’True, but I want to try. After all, you are part of this clan. Trust won’t build on its own, and I believe we need to start somewhere for this.’’

‘’So you’re extending an olive branch, are you?’’

As footsteps, signaling the arrival of others, began echoing in the corridor, Sektor muttered his final words before the doors swung open.

“There is no war between you and me, (y/n). It is true that you are a foreigner, but it is entirely up to you to change this fact.’’

As soon as Sektor concluded his words, the grand doors on both sides of the room swung open wide, revealing the entrance of the clan members. In particular, Bi-Han and the others streamed in with an air of authority. Simultaneously, a dozen helpers, deftly carrying trays of steaming, delectable dishes, entered through the opposite door.

The delicious smell of the feast filled the room, making you more aware of the tempting dishes arranged on the table. As the culinary delights were displayed, your hunger in contrast to the stress you’ve felt since composing a letter in your room, became more noticeable.

While quietly calculating which dish to choose first, you caught Bi-Han’s questioning gaze. He sat down on the chair next to you and asked in his usual cold, deep voice.

‘’What are you doing?’’

Although your cheeks turned pink due to the slight embarrassment of being caught, you didn’t let yourself down. You gently cleared your throat and threw your hair over your shoulder.

‘’They all look perfect. I was trying to decide which one to start first, but I’m having a hard time.’’

Tomas chuckled at your response from the other end of the table.

“I advise you to start with sweet-sour pork. The taste is absolutely legendary.’’

‘’You should taste the spring rolls too. I'm sure you'll like it.’’ Suggested Kuai Liang. He offered you a spring roll with chopsticks, surprising you with his gentlemanliness. Such approaches were rare in your own house, leaving you occasionally disoriented.

‘’She has arms, she can reach her own,’’ grumbled Bi-Han as he filled his plate with food, but no one paid much attention.

‘’Guys, you are all misguiding her. What you really need to try is Peking duck,’’ insisted Cyrax, pointing with his chopsticks to the dish he mentioned. Your cheeks warmed under the attention, marking the first time you didn’t feel truly uncomfortable with it. The interest and relevance they showed unexpectedly warmed your heart.

As everyone chatted and filled their plates, Bi-Han subtly added some tofu to yours without anyone noticing. When you stared at him in surprise, he looked ahead, almost pretending he hadn’t done it, assuming a guarded stance as if suggesting you do the same.

With the surprise lingering on your face, you decided to try the tofu first, popping one into your mouth. The taste was spicier and more bitter than expected, making you express your surprise. Bi-Han, despite taking care of his own food, watched your reaction out of the corner of his eye. You carefully wiped your mouth with a napkin, in case anything was smeared.

‘‘It’s quite hot,’’ you admitted. ‘’Very spicy.’’

‘’The dish you’re eating is called Mapo Tofu. Is it never made in your clan?’’ inquired Bi-Han, now fully attentive and curious about your answer.

‘’This kind of food isn’t cooked in our clan because my father doesn’t like spicy dishes. So, I can’t say it’s a taste I’m familiar with. I’m surprised that you like it too, frankly.’’

“Why?” Bi-Han focused on you, curiosity evident on his face. ‘’If you’re going to attribute it to the fact I’m a cryomancer-‘’

‘’But isn’t it surprising?’’ you interrupted with a small chuckle.

“No.’’

‘’The tofu I just ate was as hot as if it had come out of the dragon’s mouth. You can even spray fire with a few of them.’’

‘’That’s because your taste buds aren’t used to it. Also, according to your illogical understanding, then I should be enjoying tasteless and cold dishes that contain no spices.’’

In an attempt to stifle the laughter welling up inside you, you reached for your refilled water glass and took a substantial sip. The ongoing banter, much like the one Bi-Han had criticized a few days ago when he deemed your stargazing childish, mirrored the very judgment he had passed. However, this time, you opted to continue the conversation rather than shutting it down. It marked the lengthiest exchange Bi-Han had engaged in without sarcasm since your arrival.

‘’Yes, all these things you’re counting also align with your character,’’ you affirmed. Despite Bi-Han’s automatic frown, you maintained a calm, friendly tone without yielding. “Although, on second thought, you’re right; there must be something that feeds your mood. Am I wrong?’’

Before Bi-Han could respond, laughter erupted from Kuai Liang across the table. Tomas, Cyrax, and even Sektor, less overtly, stifled their amusement. Observing their reactions, Bi-Han emitted an irritated growl.

‘‘What the hell are you all looking at? Eat your damn food.’’

A muffled laugh rippled through them, and as Bi-Han exhaled a deep breath of icy smoke, the others refocused on their meals, avoiding further provocation.

The room, adorned with hanging lights casting a warm, soft glow, emanated a tranquil ambiance. A calm conversation filled the space, punctuated by occasional questions that allowed you to participate. Listening to their daily routines and being part of the camaraderie reignited an ache in your heart.

In your own house, women, including yourself and your mother, were barred from active participation in conversations between your father, clan elders and even your siblings. Speaking was deemed great rudeness, and until today, you had adhered to quietly eating your meals and waiting until they concluded. Now, the opposite experience left you offering brief answers, apprehensive of overstepping unfamiliar boundaries.

Fortunately, no one probed into the evasive responses, likely attributing it to lingering shyness. It wasn’t precisely a falsehood, but the unfamiliarity of this environment left you unsure of where the boundaries started and ended, instilling a fear of making mistakes.

‘‘(y/n),’’ Bi-Han’s hoarse voice interrupted your musings. Meeting his gaze, you wondered about the reason for his summons. ‘’Walk with me a little after you’ve finished your dinner.’’

Choosing not to question the motive, you simply responded, ‘’Of course.’’

Half an hour passed, and when the fruit service concluded, Sektor rose first from the table. Cyrax followed about ten minutes later, prompting Bi-Han to stand and signal for you to do the same with a nod. As you left the room after exchanging a ‘goodnight’ with a smile, the two remaining brothers glanced at you with curiosity and questioning expressions.

One of the two ninjas tasked with protecting you handed you a coat as you walked out the door. Surprised by this, Bi-Han caught the expression on your face while you quietly put on the coat that was handed to you and explained.

‘’I asked for the coat to be brought. It’s colder outside than last night.’’

‘’I thought you couldn’t feel the cold.’’

‘’It is so.’’ Bi-Han said simply. The fact that he did not take his intense gaze off you for a moment while saying this did something strange to your heart. You felt the cold like everyone else, but you were trained to be resilient to all kinds of bad conditions and negativity. Although you could tolerate the bitter cold up to a point, there was no need for Bi-Han not to know this fact. And you also liked the unexpected gesture, no matter how much you wanted to deny it.

Fortunately, Bi-Han quickly returned to his usual arrogant mood, making it easier for you to get rid of unwanted feelings.

“After all, birds can’t survive in winter.’’

‘’I’m sure there are a few survival tricks in them that they know.’’ You said, lifting your chin slightly to get a better view of him. Bi-Han’s eyes narrowed in a way that showed he was having fun.

‘‘We’ll see about that.’’

Bi-Han, walking in front, led you from the back terrace into the garden. The cold evening air took away all the warmth from your face, which was warmed inside. The air was fresh and the sky was clear. Since there were not many people walking around, it was calm and quiet. When you arrived almost running to catch up with Bi-Han’s wide steps, you curiously expressed the question you wanted to ask all along.

‘‘Why did you call me over?’’

‘’To talk.’’

‘’To talk?’’

‘’Do you want me to spell it out for you to understand, too?’’

You frowned at his sarcastic reply.

‘‘You could have talked to me at the table, too.’’

During your argument, when Bi-Han slowed down his steps so that you could catch up with him, you started walking next to him. A few seconds passed, and when you realized that Bi-Han would not answer you with a prolonged silence, you sighed, ‘’What do you want to talk about?’’ You asked.

With the question, Bi-Han’s hard, illegible gaze found yours.

‘‘About your family.’’ His brown eyes, very dark in the moonlight, went down to the scar hidden by your turtleneck sweater. Even though he couldn’t see it, you moved restlessly where you were, because it bothered you that he knew where the scar was. ‘‘And your past.’’ Bi-Han said after a while.

“And why should I do that? There is no reason for me to open my private life to you.”

“You are my wife, so it is important that I know everything about you.”

“Oh, really? Then how about it being mutual, grandmaster?” You used a sarcastic tone against him, echoing the attitude he displayed towards you a little while ago. “If you want to exchange information, you should also reveal something about yourself. It can’t be one-sided.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that.” Bi-Han stopped walking. While you couldn’t discern exact anger, his tone hinted at displeasure with the conversation’s direction. It made you smile at least he was beginning to understand that you wouldn’t comply with everything he said.

“Then you may suppose that this conversation is over.” You stated it in a polite but clear tone. Without waiting for Bi-Han to resume walking, you heard him talking behind you as you started walking ahead.

“What do you want to know?”

“There, if you keep on answering like that—wait a minute, what?”

Turning on your heels, you stared with big eyes at Bi-Han, who was standing a little further away, with a confused expression that showed you weren’t sure you had heard correctly.

“What do you want to know?” said Bi-Han calmly, repeating his question. He covered the distance in two big steps, and when he stood in front of you, you tilted your head back slightly and looked at him.

Normally, his hair would have come out of its bun, tufts disheveled and scattered due to the workouts and studies he did during the day. However, at the moment, it caught your attention that it was standing properly, as if he had just collected it. When you caught the smell of soap rising slightly from him, you realized that he had just been washed. He probably should have gone to the hot springs before he came to dinner.

The places where the moonlight touched his face softened his expression with a silvery light, while his shadowed lines were hard and angular. It must have been a cruel trick of fate for such a cold and arrogant man to be blessed with a handsome face.

“Have you always wanted to have this title?” You said, averting your gaze from his eyes, which were surrounded by long black lashes.

“Yes, I’ve been trained for this all my life.”

“It doesn’t seem like an easy life.”

“Success, as I see it, involves the sacrifices we’re willing to make. I grew up knowing that one day, I’d have this title, and I accepted that reality.”

You responded thoughtfully.

“I can imagine it’s a difficult path. Do you believe you make a good leader?”

The unexpected question caught Bi-Han off guard, prompting him to pause and study your face with furrowed brows. As you two continued walking, the snow crunched beneath your steps, your breath visible in the cold air, forming a mist. The temperature dropped further, the chilly air biting at your cheeks and nose.

“Are you making an insinuation?”

“No, I really wonder what you’re thinking.”

Bi-Han’s gaze was aimed at a distant point rather than at you. His face was again darkened with an expression that you could not read.

“I can’t answer that question, but I know what kind of leader I don’t want to be,” he said. His voice was unexpectedly honest. When you were standing in front of a snow-covered bench together, Bi-Han melted the snow with just a hand gesture, leaving it dry enough to sit on.

“My father has always remained closed to innovations throughout his rule of the clan. While technology was advancing every day, he was determined to cling to the traditional ways without adapting to the changes. However, history has shown us that those who do not adapt to innovation are always doomed to extinction. I want to do the right thing for my clan; we have the potential to achieve much more than it seems. Just being content with what is happening will lead to inevitable decline after a while.’’

“I don’t think you will experience such a thing,” you said in a polite voice, picking up where he left off. You were both seated at either end of the bench, with a space between you so decently marked that one person could comfortably enter. “Maybe I’ve been here for about a month, but I can see how much you put your clan at the forefront.”

“What kind of leader do you think I am?”

“Do you want an honest answer or-”

“Honest,” Bi-Han interrupted, not letting you continue your words. “Compared to most people here, you’re not afraid when you talk to me. That’s why I’m curious about your thoughts.”

It was true that you were not afraid because you did not exactly anger him. Unlike a segment that everyone is afraid of seeing and therefore makes sure not to even breathe in the same place as him, you haven’t seen the other side of him yet.

“I would say that you are an ambitious person. You are stubborn and determined, you can stand behind what you believe is right to the end. But at the same time, you are rude and arrogant, you do not allow people to express their own opinions. You intimidate them with fear.”

“I don’t need to hear their thought. I know what’s right better than they do.”

“It’s true that experience makes you different from them, but one of the important features of being a good leader is being able to listen to what others are saying. It’s not just listening, it’s communicating that’s the main thing. Fear is a compulsion, whereas respect is earned.” As your gaze turned to the ornamental pool in the distance, your next words poured from your lips as a whisper. “My father too could never decipher the difference between these two.”

Bi-Han looked at you silently with his chin resting on his clasped hands, leaning his elbows on his legs, which he had spread out from side to side. With this posture, his large, muscular body had shrunk a little, as if he was giving you space to talk more comfortably, trying to make himself look less threatening to you.

‘’What do you mean?’’

“Through fear, you can easily compel someone to obey you, but that person does not willingly open their heart, thoughts, or soul to you. Respect, on the other hand, is the admiration one feels for a person’s qualities, values, and achievements. Being with them gives you strength, they won’t hurt you, and you want to follow them wherever they go. My father was a tough man, and achieving the position of his right-hand man was considered a courageous task. That’s why they were constantly changing like the seasons, as no one wanted to be near him due to fear.’’

While discussing your past without delving into too many details, Bi-Han’s gaze was attentive, as if he was absorbing the most crucial fact of his life. To be more comfortable on the bench, you slightly turned your body to the side, leaning your back against the armrest, bringing your knees close enough to touch each other.

‘’It must have been hard for you.’’ Surprisingly, there was no usual condescending tone in Bi-Han’s voice, instead, it carried sincere understanding—an unexpected development for you.

‘’My mother was my greatest blessing. She was understanding, kind, and caring. In short, she possessed all the characteristics that my father did not have.’’ As your gaze shifted from the ornamental pool to the stars in the sky, your voice trembled with a longing you couldn’t suppress. ‘’I miss her.’’

At that moment, Bi-Han’s knee touched yours. His movement was so slight and imperceptible that, at first, you thought you were imagining it. However, the coolness emanating from him was too realistic to pretend otherwise.

“It seems mothers have always held a different place compared to fathers. My mother was a good person too. She was always a buffer between me and my old man.’’

Against his small consolation, the lump in your throat grew. Why did he start treating you like this? Everything would be easier if he kept acting as he did on the first night you got married. Instead of getting to know him, he should have remained a stranger, all these conversations and tiny gestures should not have happened. You’ve already opened up to even the slightest emotional warmth, and you couldn’t undermine the responsibility you felt towards your mission with your own hands. How would you face your brothers and your clan?

He’s your enemy.

When your brother’s voice hissed inside your mind like a poisonous snake, you quickly composed yourself and straightened your seat.

‘‘Sorry, but I’d better get inside. it’s getting pretty cold. Goodnight, grandmaster. Thank you for this little conversation.’’

Without giving Bi-Han a chance to say anything, you quickly got up from where you were sitting and started walking back towards the temple with brisk steps. All the while, you could feel Bi-Han’s burning gaze on you.

It’s a mission. You said to yourself. Keep your feelings out of your task.

*******

P.S : Their knees touched aaaaaaaaa :3

Tagging @mmeerraa ❤️

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[ynscrazylife]

Feel free to ignore, this is a long one boss.

Marvel gang seeing yn gain powers almost instantly, and watching yn struggle with how to control the new powers. Watching yn, the first couple minutes, days and weeks trying not to kill any team members when they can barely control thier new found abilities.

Im imagining yn super weak at first, they fainted when they first acquired the powers. They cant walk, they can almost stand and they haven't eaten anything since it happened. Yn is scared they are going to die or kill off someone they love and all of the team members are trying to keep yn calm, safe and in control of thier body. Im imagining techies trying to find a way to dampen the powers so that yn can walk around again and everyone fighting to cuddle with the youngest member of the team.

When Sparks Fly

Summary: When you wind up with powers in the aftermath of a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission, the Avengers are determined to help you through it.

Pairings: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (Romantic), Avengers x Stark!Reader (Platonic)

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me firstand b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

“I swear, this is almost as bad as the day I started at S.H.I.E.L.D.,” you whined, folding your arms in slight annoyance as your step-mother Pepper Potts held up her camera again. Your father, Tony Stark, was standing beside her, grinning as he proudly looked over the photos Pepper took.

“This is the first time you’re going on a mission! This warrants a couple pictures, Y/N,” Pepper retorted, before taking another picture.

“A couple? This has been, like, 100,” you sass, unable to help it. You got it from Tony, after-all.

“I’m glad you’re keeping count,” Tony sassed right back, smirking at your eye-roll that followed.

“Wait!” Peter burst in, having just finished patrol. In his haste, he still wore his Spider-Man suit, but had torn off his mask. He skidded to a halt beside you, putting a sweaty arm around your shoulders.

You softened at your boyfriend’s excitement, your frown lifting into a smile as Pepper snapped a photo of you and Peter. When it was taken, he turned to you. “You’re gonna rock this mission, babe,” he said, kissing you on the forehead.

“I appreciate your confidence, Pete,” you said, grinning lovingly.

“Oh!” Pepper exclaimed, gasping at she glanced at the clock. “Go, go, go! You’re going to be late.”

Following her gaze, you muttered a “shit!” as you scrambled to grab your bag.

“Language,” Steve scolded, wearing a smirk as he walked in with the rest of the Avengers. They had just returned from a mission and there was no way that they weren’t going to see you off today.

“Hi, thanks, bye!” You said rather quickly, throwing your bag over your shoulder before giving Pete a peck on the lips and running off.

“Good luck!” Pepper called to your retreating form.

“Kick ass!” Tony added, pumping his fist into the air.

“Don’t die!” Peter said, right before the door slammed shut. Everyone turned to the young adult, who shrugged. “What? It would really suck.”

Honestly — he wasn’t wrong.

————————————————————————

Since it was your first mission at the academy, it wasn’t meant to be difficult. Key word: meant.

Little did you know, while chasing an ex-A.I.M. agent who had set up his own research and experimentation lab, you followed him into one of his so-called testing rooms — which was a trap. You only realized this when he stopped running and grabbed a gas mask, pulling it on swiftly.

Spotting a gas quickly fill in from the vents, you whispered another “shit!” and turned around, quickly going to the door.

The intel S.H.I.E.L.D. had gotten said that the lab was devoid of any experimental substances. Wrong.

Unfortunately for you — Steve wasn’t here to scold you and the door had locked. You banged on it, frustrated, and turned back around only to see the ex-agent smirking at you.

“I didn’t expect to gain a new testing subject today, but you’ll do quite nicely,” he said.

A quick glance around told you that there were no gas masks left. Nothing to protect yourself. You couldn’t even cover your mouth with anything because your suit wasn’t made to stretch.

Knowing you didn’t have much time, you pressed down on your comms and said: “A gas is quickly filling up the room. I don’t know what it is. The guy’s going to try to escape, so be prepared to—” Your words died on your lips as you started to inhale the gas, overcome with wooziness.

You struggled to continue speaking, only making frustrated noises, and your vision blurred as the guy walked towards you. You didn’t know that he was holding a needle until it pricked your neck. Not long after, you felt your limbs grow heavy and you fell, smacking hard against the ground.

————————————————————————

When the members of the team heard your distress call over the comms, they quickly tracked your location and ran to meet you. Thankfully, they managed to stop him from escaping and taking you with him. But when they got back to the Quinjet, they knew that they had to alert the Avengers, which no-one wanted to do.

When Tony saw Coulson on his caller I.D, he assumed the man was calling him to boast about how well Y/N had done on the mission. Putting the phone to his ear, he was startled when he heard the disappointed words: “I’m so sorry.”

The billionaire stilled, his face instantly paling and altering Pepper and the Avengers that something was wrong. “What happened? Is Y/N okay?” He practically cried, gripping the phone tightly.

“Agent Stark inhaled an unknown gas during the mission. From what we know about it, the gas — and the needle Stark was pricked with — was a part of some experiment that the guy we were tracking down was conducting illegally. We don’t know too much about the experiment yet, but we know that it’s intention is to enhance its subjects somehow. We’re interrogating the guy right now,” Coulson explained, as calmly as he could.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut as he let the news pass over him, doing his best to prevent his voice from shaking. “Can I talk to Y/N?” He asked.

Coulson paused. “I’m afraid not . . . Y/N is unconscious. Has been ever since the incident. The team is en route to S.H.I.E.L.D’s medical wing now, though,” he said.

“I want Y/N transferred to the compound. We’ll have Dr. Cho — she’s the best,” Tony declared firmly.

Another slight pause, and then: “Of course, Tony.” With that, Coulson hung up, leaving Tony to reveal the news to his worried family.

It was safe to say that no one took it well, but Pepper and Peter especially were a wreck. Bruce took the initiative of informing Dr. Cho while the rest anxiously awaited your arrival. They tried to comfort each other the best they could, but with so little information on your condition, there was nothing much that they could say or believe.

When the elevator dinged and two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents rolled you out on a gurney, everyone cling to your side. Peter was especially shaken when he saw you unconscious. The agents didn’t let anyone come with, saying it was imperative that they get you to Dr. Cho now.

Although difficult, your family allowed you to be rolled away alone. For the next half-hour, everyone waited for any news. The majority of the group was seated on the couch, but it seemed that everyone paced around at least once. Tony demanded updates from F.R.I.D.A.Y., only to hear that you were “stable” which wasn’t enough to calm anyone’s nerves or satisfy anyone.

When Bruce finally emerged, the group nearly pounded on him. They were barely able to keep quiet enough for him to actually say anything.

“They don’t think it’s life-threatening, but it’s not good, either,” was what Bruce first said, pausing as he gauged their reactions before continuing. Once he deemed that no-one was going to have some sort of outburst, he continued. “The gas Y/N inhaled is . . . Changing them. From what Dr. Cho can tell and the information they got out of the A.I.M. guy, the gas and the needle modifies one’s DNA to give them enhancements . . . Superpowers, of some sort. The A.I.M. guy let it slip that this will be a slow and painful process for Y/N, though. It was meant to beat down the guy’s test subjects so that by the time their powers were developed and controlled, it would be easier for him to manipulate them into doing what he wanted. It seemed he hadn’t planned on doing this to Y/N, but took the opportunity when he realized he might be able them use it against us.”

This was a lot for everyone to take in. They all held some combination of immense concern and anger. The very thought you suffering was an enraging image, and they wanted nothing more than to be able to take away the pain.

“Is-is there anyway to stop the process before the powers develop?” Pepper asked, trembling slightly. Tony wrapped an arm around her.

Bruce frowned. “Dr. Cho is looking into it. Coulson said when they asked the guy that, he claimed it would just make things worse,” he said.

No-one liked the sound of that.

“Can we see Y/N?” Tony asked next.

Bruce nodded and led the group to the medical bay, where you were lying in a bed. A ton of wires were hooked up to you and a bandage was on your head from where you hit it when falling.

Tony, Pepper, and Peter immediately went to your side and the rest of the Avengers followed. No-one said much, just using the time and the silence to digest this change. Peter and Tony both held each of your hands and Pepper pet your hair. Not long passed before Rhodey and Happy, having received the news, quickly joined.

No-one moved, or wanted to move, until Dr. Cho came in. “Unfortunately, we don’t see a way to reverse the process. We’ll just have to let it play out and help and comfort Y/N the best we can,” she explained, knowing everyone wanted to hear it. “Y/N should wake up on their own. They’re not under any sedation or anything.”

Everyone nodded and turned their attention back to you. A couple hours passed and the only movement that occurred was when someone went to go on coffee and food runs, or they got any update from S.H.I.E.L.D. However, Peter broke the silence when he suddenly jerked back. “Ow!” He said, waving his hand. Meeting the other’s confused looks, he said: “Y/N shocked me.”

“That bad?” Sam asked, a little doubtful.

Peter nodded and glanced back to you, his eyes widening. “Woah, look,” he said. Everyone inched closer, only to see electricity sparking at your fingertips. Although reluctant, Tony and Pepper had to move away at risk of getting shocked.

Seeing the commotion, Dr. Cho shuffled over and began checking your vitals and monitors. “What’s going on? Does Y/N have electricity powers or something?” Bucky asked.

Although his second question hadn’t been serious, Dr. Cho turned around and said: “It seems like it.”

This shocked everyone, but when your eyes began to open, they seemed to snap back to normal. Already in a state of daze and confusion, you got nervous seeing the crowd. “What-what’s going on?” You mumbled, pulling at the wires, only for electrical sparks to fly and interfere with the wires, making you curl up in pain.

“Unhook the monitors!” Natasha cried, while Tony did his best to soothe you.

“You’re home, honey. The gas you inhaled is changing you and giving you, what looks like, electricity powers. But it’s all going to be okay, I promise,” he tried to explain.

This, combined with seeing the worried, confused, and nervous looks on your family’s faces, only freaked you out more. Electrical sparks flew out now, and the Avengers had to dodge being hit. You let out a small scream, trembling, and trying yet failing to control it.

“Get away from me! I’ll hurt you!” You yelled, panicked, hugging yourself and attempting to get as far back on the bed as you could manage.

“No, you won’t. You just need to take some deep breaths, Y/N,” Peter tried to comfort.

But that didn’t seem like it was possible. Any attempt to slow your breaths only made you feel like you couldn’t breathe. You were desperate to regain your regular breathing, and it came out in short gasps. Not only was electrical sparks going everywhere, but it was hurting you, and you were feeling dizzy. “I can’t. It hurts!” You said, trembling, and the next thing you knew — your eyes rolled back into your head and you fainted.

Everyone was relieved as the electrical sparks disappeared, but not happy that you were unconscious again. Tony reached forward and moved some hair out of your face, sighing.

“We need Y/N to calm down. I think we should bring them to their room and reduce who sees them at first — maybe only Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts, me, and Ms. Maximoff. She can help with Y/N’s powers,” Peter said, looking at the Avengers.

While the group all wanted to be with you, they understood that it was overwhelming. With a look at Dr. Cho, who said it would be okay as long as she could check on you, Tony said: “Good idea, kid.” He took it upon himself to gently lift you from your bed and carry you to your room, everyone following behind.

When they got to your room, Tony laid you down on your bed and Pepper tucked you in. Everyone sat around, trying to make the room as comfortable and calming as possible, until you started to stir. They all filed out, leaving behind your parents, Peter, and Wanda.

When you began to wake, the sparks began to fly, but Wanda quickly jumped in. “Hey, Y/N,” she said, smiling at you. You and Wanda were really close. She was like an older sister. “You’re in your room, with just me, your mom and dad, and Peter. We noticed that the electricity only seems to get uncomfortable when you’re upset, so we’re gonna try and help you. I know that this is all really sudden and scary and not what you expected or wanted. But, if anyone can tackle it, it’s you. Think you can take some deep breaths for me?”

You did your best to listen to Wanda’s words, although her powers - which was intent on relaxing you - certainly helped. Realizing you were in your bed and had the people you loved most around you, unwilling to leave and wanting to help, allowed you to feel less scared and take those deep breaths. It took a couple minutes, and Peter holding your hand, but the sparks began to lessen and lessen.

“I’m scared,” you whispered after a moment, tears in your eyes. You found yourself able to express some sadness without the sparks causing chaos, but it was draining your energy and causing pain.

“I know,” Wanda said, cupping your cheek comfortingly. “But you’ve got a whole team right behind you. We love you so, so much.”

“Yeah, we do,” Peter agreed, and your mom and dad nodded, causing you to smile. You squeezed your boyfriend’s hand. He squeezed back.

For the rest of the day, the Avengers visited you in pairs or trios, not wanting to overwhelm you with everyone again. You were disappointed about how your S.H.I.E.L.D. mission had gone, but having your dedicated family at your side helped. The sparks were no longer soaring, but when Coulson had said it would be a painful process, he was by no means exaggerating.

You hadn’t said anything, not wanting to worry anyone anymore, but it became apparent the next day. Everyone was now in the room and, after some slight stress (which Wanda and Peter helped with), the sparks calmed down. You were sick of lying in bed all day and wanted to stand up and walk around, but that proved to not go well.

The second you had risen to your feet — you were tumbling back down. Your knees hit the floor, and Peter barely managed to wrap his arms around you and prevent your head from hitting it, too. He gently pulled you against him as your head lolled against his chest, a wave of dizziness appearing.

“Are you alright?” Tony asked, him and Pepper kneeling down in front of you and Peter. The rest were close by, in case you needed anything.

The sparks came back, but this time just seemed to appear all over your body. You were concentrating hard to prevent them from escaping, and this in turn only exhausted and hurt you more. “Y-yeah,” you answered through grit teeth, but your whimper of pain betrayed you.

“I’ll get Dr. Cho,” Bruce offered, making a move for the door handle.

“No,” you forced out, although your voice was hardly strong. Enough to make Bruce pause, though. “It’s not — it’s my powers. It’s taking everything in me not to let this electricity out, and on top of that I think this whole process is taking a toll on me, like Coulson said it would.”

No-one liked hearing this. The group exchanged looks over your head, worried, and then Tony nodded at Peter, gesturing to your bed. Since your eyes were closed, Peter said, “I’m going to pick you up and put you back in bed, okay?”

When you nodded, Peter gently picked you up and laid down in bed. Your grip never left him, though, so he slid in beside you, in a cuddle. Peter and Pepper both fixed the blankets while you leaned your head against his shoulder.

Pepper and Tony sat beside you and the rest of the Avengers crowded around. Blinking your eyes open tiredly, you managed a small smile, your heart warming with your family surrounding you. Trying to get as comfortable as possible with the pain, you squirmed around and huffed lightly.

“Still hurts?” Natasha murmured, with the others watching over you in concern.

Your answer was an affirming hum, face tightly scrunched up in concentration. “I’m really trying to contain it,” you whispered, which broke everyone’s hearts. You looked exhausted and worn-out, but were still trying so hard.

Steve glanced over at everyone, frowning. “We can leave if you need to let it out,” he offered gently.

You shook your head. “No. I need to learn how to control it,” you insisted.

This had everyone more worried. “You don’t have to learn right now, hun,” Wanda said.

“I do. I can’t hurt anyone again,” you said, and then leaned forward, gasping, as a wave of pain from the electricity racked your body.

You were Tony Stark’s kid — stubbornness was in your DNA.

Peter bit his lip and rubbed your back, wanting to do anything he could to provide you with comfort. Pepper pet your hair until you leaned back, practically collapsing against your boyfriend. “Maybe a story will help distract—” Sam began, but you quickly cut him off.

“No! I can’t be distracted! I need to concentrate unless you want me to fry you!” You snapped, glaring at Sam. Everyone was surprised by your sudden outburst, but your frustration quickly dissolved into guilt and tears escaped your eyes. “I’m-I’m sorry Sam. I just can’t relax. All I can do is think about keeping the electricity in.”

You pulled your knees to your chest and Peter’s arms wrapped around you from behind. Eyes widening, Sam was quick to say: “Hey, hey, it’s alright, kid. No hard feelings.” He smiled.

“I can put you to sleep for a bit, if you’d like,” Wanda offered, also smiling.

You thought about this for a moment and then nodded. Wanda put her index fingers on her temples and, after a moment, your body relaxed and went limp. Peter gently pulled you so you were laying back against the pillow and everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. They all just watched you for a moment, glad that you were finally no longer in pain — even if only temporary.

After a couple minutes, Bruce piped up. “There has to be something we can do, Tony.”

Tony glanced over at the scientist and nodded, the wheels already turning in his head. “Can we build something that can absorb the electricity? A bracelet with an insulator like rubber or plastic that could be strong enough for Y/N to be able to let loose some of that electricity?” He pondered.

Bruce nodded, liking where the billionaire was going with this idea. “Let’s see,” he said, and then headed out the door, to their lab.

Tony was more hesitant leave Y/N, but Pepper and the others assured him that they’d be there. Smiling at his wife and then at sleeping Y/N, Tony allowed himself to trust that and followed Bruce.

You slept for most of the day with your family by your side. They only left if it was absolutely necessary. When you woke up still in pain, the Avengers took shifts. If it were up to them, they’d all be with you all the time. Unfortunately, duty called to the team and to Pepper. At any moment, though, at least one of them was always with you. Rubbing your back, keeping you updated with what was going on in the tower and with S.H.I.E.L.D, anything they could do or say that would provide even the littlest bit of comfort.

Two days later, when Fury wanted the Avengers to go out on a mission, they all ended up arguing with him and insisting that they needed to stay with you. Their love for you seemed to out-power the Director’s might. It took a lot of convincing, but Fury eventually backed down after talking to his best spies Clint and Natasha and when he saw you himself.

Later that afternoon, Bruce and Tony finally perfected the bracelets. They delivered it to you proudly, all the Avengers by their side. You gladly wore them and it helped lessen the pain some — although it did not go away entirely. Tony was adamant on going back to the lab and working on it himself, but you were able to put your father at ease. You know the pain would continue as long as your powers were still developing. Soon, your body would get used to it and you’d be in control.

Tony (and everyone else) still worried, of course, but they knew you were right. Sure enough, by the end of the week, you were up and walking around again. Your body had stopped fighting the new development and, after practicing and working with Wanda, you were able to control it with little difficulty. You surprised the group when they were in the living room, coming down the staircase with a large grin on your face.

“So . . . Does this mean I can become an Avenger now, too?” You asked.

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[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

Here's Where You'll Stay

"As John stared at the door preparing to get his face mauled, he couldn’t help but incredulously complain that this was not how he wanted his weekend to go. He had plans! He supposes that he would be willing to put them on hold for Phantom’s sake, but he wasn’t agreeable to the incoming face mauling. "

When Phantom comes down with Core Sickness it's up to John Constantine to save the ghost from fading.

This was originally based on a prompt from @nerdpoe but the story got so far from the original premise that I only ended up using dialogue. I put it under its own post instead of clogging up the notes for the prompt.

The title was taken from Today Has Been Okay by Sleeping at Last.

AO3 link

 

      As John stared at the door preparing to get his face mauled, he couldn’t help but incredulously complain that this was not how he wanted his weekend to go. He had plans! Plans to hole himself up in the House of Mystery with a bottle of scotch as he wallows in misery but still, plans!

   He supposes that he would be willing to put them on hold for Phantom’s sake, but he wasn’t agreeable to the incoming face mauling. 

   The little ghost had imprinted on them like a stray cat. He had just sorta… wandered (phased) in one day when the door (the wall) was open (he phased his head through the fucking wall!!!) and space is cold! No one was just going to kick him back out the door! They aren’t monsters! Next thing you know the cat is eating your food and hovering over you in the medbay and then suddenly the Justice League is having the collective realization that they may have unconsciously adopted a ghost kid. 

   They already had two aliens, an Amazon, a king, the fastest man alive, a Robin Hood wannabe, a traumatized furry, and an entire department dedicated to magic and the occult. What was a protection spirit added to the mix? Besides, they were already attached. 

   So the Justice League was understandably distressed when the kid suddenly collapsed, claws leaving long scratches in the floor as he yelped in pain. Phantom was transferred to one of his favored rooms with Martian Manhunter remaining to babysit the ghost. The other leaguers on-site wasted no time in calling a meeting.

   If John had rushed a little faster to the Watchtower then that was between He, Him, and Himself. 

    Having sat silently through an hour of yapping, John was beginning to get frustrated. Figures that the idiots would call up the occult specialists and then not let the only two people who may have any idea as to what was going on get a word in edgewise. Usually, John preferred that they left him to his own devices, but if you were going to call up a consultant then you should probably fucking consult them! Regardless, he could say with a solid ninety-nine percent confidence he knew what was wrong with their resident spirit.

  “It’s core sickness.”

   “It’s what?”

   “Core sickness. Do none of you listen?” he tried his best to blow his cigarette smoke directly into Superman’s face. Clark squinted at him, scrunching his nose in distaste.

   Diana, ever the model of patience, merely waved the foul scent away. She folded her hands on the table, fingers interlocking. “I don’t believe I’ve heard the term.”

    John leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the table with two thunks. He grunted around his cigarette, waving at Batman to explain while he took another inhale. 

   Batman quietly glared at John’s feet as if he could shove them off the table by willpower alone. When the bat remained silent, John gestured at him again in a wordless 'go ahead'.

   "I am…" Batman gritted his teeth as if what he was about to say was physically painful, "unfamiliar with the term as well.

   "Holy shit, did Spooky just admit to not knowing something? Am I dreaming? Quick, Barry, pinch me!" Hal yelped, rubbing his arm. Barry settled back into his chair so quickly it was as if he had never moved, the only evidence being the red mark on the Green Lantern's skin.

   "Seriously bats? Isn't one of your boys undead? Shouldn't you know this?"

    Batman's glare sharpened. "That's none of your concern."

   "Wow. No wonder your revenant is so bloody pissed all the time. You can't even be bothered to learn about his medical needs. I wouldn't be holding out for Father of the Year if I were you."

   "Now now, boys. You're both pretty." Zatanna clapped, breaking the practically solid tension in the room. John huffed and chewed the stub of paper in his mouth, leaving Zatanna to explain. 

   "All ghosts and most undead have a core. It's… hard to describe." Zatanna hummed, tapping her finger to her chin for a moment, "Imagine if you only had one organ. It functions as your brain your heart and your digestive system all in one, but it's also the essence of your very soul. Core sickness is when the core is injured and fails to build itself back up. Kind of like breaking your leg but instead of healing the break just continues to grind together. It might still be usable for a bit, but then the bone keeps grinding and the edges start to crumble. It just keeps getting worse and worse until eventually your whole leg is shattered."

    There's a sharp inhale of breath as the league processes the information.

    "So what happens once the bone shatters?" Arthur eventually asks.

   "The core is exactly what it sounds like, it's the very core of a ghost. Ghosts are nearly indestructible, but their core..." Zatanna trails off. 

   "If the core shatters, so does the ghost." Batman nods, looking none too pleased. 

    "Well, we can't just let the kid shatter! How do we help set the break?"

    Zatanna shrugs, "I'm not sure… Constantine?"

    "Do I look like a ghost doctor?"

   "You're the most knowledgeable among us on supernatural beings," Batman growled out. The usually stoic shadow almost seemed panicked, or at least as panicked as they had ever seen him.

   John sighed and flicked ash from his fingers, "Pretty sure you gotta fix whatever shite caused the core sickness in the first place. Problem is we dunno what caused it."

   "So why don't we ask? Surely Phantom would know the cause of such an extreme ailment." Arthur drummed his fingers nervously on the armrest of his chair.

    Zatanna grimaced, “Ghosts can be…”

   “Aggressive?" John interrupted, "Destructive? More likely to rip your sorry face off than give you answers?”

   “I was going to say touchy.”

   John snorted, “That’s certainly a word for it.”

   Zatanna ignores him. "Whatever caused the core sickness is likely something personal. Asking certain questions of a ghost is considered taboo and often met with hostility."

   "Casper just might flay you like a fish."

   "So if we ask him we might get the snot beaten out of us, but if we don't Phantom dies? Or… dies again?"

   "Fades." John nods to Hal. 

   “Constantine should ask.”

   “I should what? ” John straightens in his chair, staring wide-eyed at Batman, “I know I was being a tosser earlier but I don’t think it constitutes murder. Are ya bloody mad?” 

   “Phantom likes you the most. He may be less inclined to fight you than a different leaguer, and in the event that it becomes a fight, you’re better equipped to handle it.”

    And that’s how John Constantine ended up on the other side of the door from an ill ghost, cursing up a storm as he prepared himself to poke a bear with a stick. A sick bear, but a bear nonetheless.  He has half a mind to portal straight out of the watch tower but much like the others, the kid has grown on him. Like a tumor. Or mold.

  A hissed sound of pain is enough to push John into the room. He raps gently on the door as he opens it. The kid is curled in J’onn’s lap, tail phased halfway through the floor as he shakes. The Martian is humming something as he runs a hand through Phantom’s hair. 

   John comes to a crouch at Phantom’s side, nodding J’onn towards the door as he gently disentangles the ghost's hands from the Martian’s cape. A single hazy green eye opens to a thin slit. 

   “Hey, kid.” 

    Phantom makes a strangled, warbling chirp but allows himself to be transferred over to John as the Martian leaves the room. The ghost’s claws poke through his shirt to prickle his skin as he clutches onto the fabric.

    “Not feeling too hot are ya, Casper?”

    Another shiver runs through Phantom’s body.

   “Listen, kid, I know you might not wanna talk about it, but it’s important. I need to know what brought this mess on.”

   Phantom growled. John could feel the threatening scrape of fanged teeth against his hand. Sucking in a breath, John prepared himself for a nasty bite. Only it never came. He should probably just stop while he was ahead, but Constantine was never known to stop pushing. 

  “I know, kid, but we can’t fix this if we don’t know the cause. Gotta know what we need to fix before we can fix it, and none of us wanna see ya fade, yeah?”

    Silence from the ghost, and then a nod.

   John let out a sigh of relief, “Alright, Casper. You’ve walked in on me drunk off my arse with a belt around my head. I reckon we’re close enough that you can tell me your issues.”

    Silence. 

   “How about this?  I’ll start listing some ideas off and you tap my hand. One tap for yes, Two taps for no. Sound easier?”

   One tap.

   “Alright. Did your core sustain any direct physical damage?” With John’s luck he might as well assume the worst.

   Two taps. Thank Christ.

   “Did you lose your haunt?”

   Two taps.

   “Unable to fulfill your obsession?”

   Two taps. 

   “Was your grave disrupted?”

   Nothing. Phantom’s finger hesitated, hovering over John’s palm. It started to lower as if he were about to tap but retreated once more. Another shiver of pain wracked through the ghost.

   John ran his fingers through Phantom’s hair like J’onn had been doing when he walked in.

   “Am I close, Casper?”

  One tap.

   “Did you…” John hesitated. He didn’t want to say it. Didn’t even want to even think about it. Not with the implications that the idea held, especially not with a kid, “Do you have a grave?”

    Two taps. 

   Constantine makes a strangled sound. Bollocks. Fucking hell. Is Phantom a murder victim? He’s just going to compartmentalize that for now. He’ll drink about it later. For now, he’s got a kid to help. A potentially murdered kid, Christ…

   “Is that what’s causing the core sickness?” Compartmentalise it, you plonker.

   One tap. 

   Great. So now John has to track down a murdered kid’s body and make him a grave. Wonderful.

    “Alright, kid. Here’s what's gonna happen. I’m going to make you the best damn grave you’ve ever seen. I’ll put it wherever ya want. ”

    Phantom’s eye opens again in interest, “Wherever?”

   “Wherever. Hell, I’ll put it on the bloody moon if that’s where ya want it!”

   “It doesn’t have to be on the moon but… I’d like to see the stars?”

   “I’ll make sure you can see the stars all the damn time, but first we gotta do the hard part. You know where your body is, kid?”

    Phantom gives a weak chuckle and mutters something into John’s shirt

   “Gonna have to speak up a bit, Casper.”

    When Phantom turns to look at John once more the haze is gone, but so is that tiny glimmer of hope and enthusiasm. The eyes that meet John’s own are dead. They look clouded over and sunken, empty of that natural ectoplasmic glow. They look like the eyes of a carcass. The fanged grin that stretches across his face is stiff and just as dead as his eyes.

   “I said if you want to find my body, you’re going to have to redefine your definition of a corpse.”

   Ah. Alright. What the fuck is that supposed to mean. 

   Phantom drops his grin, eyes closing as he hisses in pain again. “You don’t need to worry about that part. An empty grave is better than none.”

   No, actually, John feels like he does need to worry about that. He’s not entirely sure that he has a choice in the matter after that horrifying statement. He’ll compartmentalize it and get drunk about that later too. Right now he’s got a grave to make and a ghost to save.

____🥀____

   To be fair, John’s not entirely sure what he’s doing. All he knows is that he has to make a damn good grave for a damn good kid if he doesn’t want said kid to painfully fade from existence. He doesn’t know the first thing about headstones but he will bloody learn and pick the best- Granite? Marble? Whatever.- there is!

   He already has a spot picked out, he just needs to get a headstone. But for some reason, this feels way more stressful than it needs to be! He’s tempted to ignore the no smoking sign, fingers fidgeting with the cigarette box in his pocket. This is the fourth place he’s looked, and it’s hard to find anyone willing to make a headstone on such short notice. The backlog of orders has been surprisingly long.

   John doesn’t have the time to wait. Phantom doesn’t have the time. 

   So far it's all been the same boring, drab, grey rock with intermittent white marble. None of it is good enough. None of it fits the kid. It has to be perfect. He’s about to move on to the next place when- oh. Oh, that will do nicely!

____🥀____

   Constantine swings open the door without warning. Oliver startles out of his story with a yelp. Phantom giggles, fangs flashing. He covers his mouth with a hand and feigns innocence when Oliver glares at him good-naturedly. Oliver, a dad himself, is no match for the sick-child-murder victim-ghost energy the kid is wielding. His glare quickly crumbles, replaced with a fond expression and gentle hair ruffle. 

   Even with weakness weighing his limbs down, Phantom still tries to bat the hand away with a playful growl. He seemed a tad more lively than when John had last seen him. The updates he had been receiving from the league were mainly neutral. The League, or the Rotating Cycle of Babysitters as John liked to call them, had not noticed any further deterioration but had yet to report any improvement either. It was a pleasant surprise to see the ghost this active. 

   John allowed his mouth to tick up just a smidge, “Ready to go, kid?”

   “Already?” Phantom attention shifted to John, “It hasn’t been that long… has it?”

   “Nah. Only ‘bout two days or so.”

   “That was fast.” Phantom grunted as Oliver picked him up. Oliver whispered a quiet sorry to him as he carried Phantom to pass over to John.

    “I’ve been running myself ragged to get it all set up. Haven’t had a drink in hours.” 

   It really shouldn’t surprise John how light the kid was. He’d bet the ghost wouldn’t even weigh ten pounds soaking wet. Before the ghost could protest, he was slipping a blindfold over his eyes.

   “I may have done some bribery here and there to move things along.”

   “Constantine, you didn’t…” Oliver sounded disappointed but not surprised.

   John didn’t deign him with a response, instead shifting to hold Phantom with one arm and open a portal with the other. Stepping through to the surprisingly large backyard of the House of Mystery, he quickly closed it behind them before off-brand Robin Hood got any ideas and began the short trek to the gravesite. 

   "Can I take this off now?" His hand raised shakily without waiting for an answer.

   John gently slapped his wrist back down, "Quit messing with the blindfold. I just put the damn thing on!"

   Phantom groaned, his head dramatically falling back over John's arm, "Oh come on! What's a dying ghost gotta do around here to get his last wish fulfilled?"

    "Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're already dead. And 'sides, I'm not letting you fade after all those goddamn hours I've put into teaching you portals. You're going to be haunting the Justice League for a while yet." If John held him a little tighter no one needed to know.

   "Whoever said that you could rest when you're dead lied ."

   "You've been a right thorn in my side between stealing my booze and hiding my cigs. I figure it's about time that I make myself your problem. It's called karma, Casper."

   Phantom snorted, leaning his head to rest against John's shoulder. The rest of the walk continued in silence aside from the occasional whimper of pain from Phantom and John's attempts at comforting platitudes. 

   It wasn't long before John finally made it up the small hill, grinning as he approached the grave marker. The stone slab sat on the highest point of his lot, as close to the stars as possible. He had been so meticulous about its placement that he was almost certain he had every inch of the garden memorized until his eyesight blurred, surprisingly without the aid of alcohol.

   "Alright, Phantom. Remember to take it easy," John lifted the blindfold.

   Phantom's chest hitched in the mimicry of a gasp, stilling in the older's hold.

   The headstone was made of black granite with golden flecks. The man at the shop had called it Galaxy Granite. It was a rather fitting name. The headstone looked like it had been cut from the night sky itself, the stars sparkling even under sunlight. An etching of Ursa Minor sat above the inscription, Polaris bigger than the rest of the constellation. Dainty white letters ran across the stone. Phantom floated over as if in a trance to run his fingers over it.

In Loving Memory Of

Danny Fenton

12 February 1989

12 February 2003

Beloved Son, Brother, Hero

   Phantom leaned his head against the stone. John left him to have his moment, retreating into the House of Mystery to grab the final touch. The bouquet was sort of garish. The colors of the forget-me-nots, beardtongue, zinnias, star grass, poppies, and lewisias clashed together, but the aesthetic appeal wasn’t why he had chosen these particular flowers. He remerged with purpose, gently carrying the bouquet to ensure the flowers remained intact. Phantom hadn’t moved. 

   John crouched next to the kid, gently laying the flowers down against the headstone, “You oka-”

   John made a noise of surprise as he was tugged forward. The momentum caused him to collapse from his heels onto his knees. The ghost burrowed underneath his chin, keeping him from falling forward anymore. Phantom’s arms tightened around him.

   “Thank you.” His voice already sounded stronger than it had the day before. 

   “Yeah,” John snaked an arm around the ghost’s shoulders, holding him close even as his shirt dampened, “Don’t mention it, kid.”

#dpxdc #Here's Where You'll Stay #my writing #dpxdc fanfic

[greeenchrysanthemums]

I like Gem and Etho’s dynamics in their videos a lot and I love how you have them intertwined as sibling-like relationship in your au. (We need more of Gem and Etho fics lmao) That being said, have you ever thought of how Gem and Etho first meet after years of being apart? Obviously Gem wouldn’t have recognise Etho (like you said), but how did Etho recognise her? Was it an instant recognition at first sight? Or was it the little details like the way she acts and speaks that made Etho link the connection with the little girl in his memories? Or did Etho only made the connection after the small talks where Gem had mentioned about him?

I’m also curious of when, where and how they meet. Was it in the middle of Gem’s mission when she was dealing with another resistance matter? A casual patrol on the streets? Or was it during her break time/vacation/after work where it’s just Gem being Gem needing some time away from the stress, wandering aimless searching for interesting shops and finds Mumbo and Etho being goofy with their customers?

I’m sorry if I have overwhelmed you with too many questions 😅 feel free to ignore the ask if you don’t want to answer.

(Pssst. Btw if you haven’t thought about it, may I propose adding wither rose twin Fwhip to the narrative? Like a bonus Easter eggs of some sort. Maybe Gem enter Mumbo and Etho’s shop cuz Fwhip needs redstone stuff and request Gem to do the errands after her knight duties? Of course, if you already have things planned, I’ll like to read the notes/snippets!)

Hello! First of all, yes, we need more Gem and Etho fics! I do love their dynamic. Second, do not even worry about all the questions! I enjoy receiving them greatly. 💚

As for your questions, I actually have a mini-fic written for how they meet again! I won't spoil it too much, as I plan to post it sometime soon, but they meet on one of Gem's off days while she is shopping.

For Gem, part of the reason she wouldn't recognize Etho is because she was so young when he left. She was only 8 years old, so it makes sense that her memories of him would be blurry at best. Etho, on the other hand, was already a teenager at the time the time of his departure. His memory of her would be much sharper, if a little bit hazy.

That doesn't mean he recognized her immediately, though. On that day, when she wandered into his shop by coincidence, he had a nagging feeling of nostalgia the entire time they talked, but he couldn't quite place her face. It didn't click for him until she had taken her leave. Stood in the doorway, she had smiled at him in the same way she used to as a child while she said her goodbyes and thanked him for his time.

He was almost knocked over by the amount of grief he felt when he realized who she was and what she had become. He now, admittedly, does his best to avoid her when she comes around. He knows it's wrong to avoid her like that, almost cruel given how close they used to be, but he just can't face her. He feels responsible for the path that she took, and he feels like he failed the little girl from his memories.

The only person he's ever told about his connection to Gem is Mumbo, and he has sworn the other man to secrecy. He doesn't want the bond they once shared to be exploited, even if it would probably make things easier for the resistance. He failed her once; he doesn't want to do it again.

And for that last bit, I have considered adding other Empires or Hermitcraft members to this au many times, but I have ultimately decided against it. This au is primarily inspired by the life series and I didn't want to dilute the character pool too much.

However, they may still appear as side characters eventually or be mentioned as easter eggs! I think I love them too much to leave them out entirely.

#geminitay #ethoslab #etho #GG rivals au #GG asks #hermitcraft #life series #hopefully this makes sense I am sorry if it doesn't!! #pearl knows about their past as well since she put two and two together after hearing gem talk about him #but she doesn't want to make things messy #so she never brings it up to either of them #yet another thing pearl could get in trouble for hiding!!

[junkissed]

sounds of the season

day four of junkissed’s svt season’s greetings event

member — radio host!junhui x reader genre — fluff, college au word count — 1.7k synopsis — when your university’s radio show hosts a matchmaking event to raise money, you figure, what have you got to lose? the question you should be asking is, what have you got to gain? warnings — jun is so awkward but we love him, this is pretty dialogue-heavy sorry notes — lowercase intended. also i know nothing about how radio works so if i’m wrong just ignore it lol

this is part of @svthub's snowventeen winter collab! be sure to check out the collab masterlist here and support our talented writers! this collab contains both sfw and nsfw fics; minors dni with nsfw fics.

edit 12/27: i have added a part 2 on my nsfw blog @onlyhuis! it is smut so minors dni. you can read it here!

one reblog = one holiday song on the radio

“that’s the end of today’s program, everyone, thanks for tuning in. remember to sign up for our ‘matchmaking for charity’ event while you still can! for every successful match, we’re donating $20 to toys for tots, so be sure to get your application in so we can find you a special someone this december. link is on our instagram, and our website, sdu.caratsradio.org, go check it out.”

a different voice follows. “we’ve been sounds of the season on 111.7 fm, hosted by our very own communications undergrads. have a great weekend, sdu students! we’ll see you back here monday at six for more holiday tunes.”

jazz study music from the next hour’s program begins to play as you sigh, closing the tab on your computer open to the school’s website.

for the last few weeks you’ve been listening to shining diamond university’s student radio station; more specifically, you’ve been listening to the duo that hosts the holiday music hour every monday and friday at 6pm. the festive music puts you in a better mood, but what you’re really there for is the hosts’ voices. their tone is so calming, most days you like to turn on the station in the background while you do your homework. something about the way they speak helps you focus. whoever they are, you could listen to them talk for hours.

there’s probably pictures of the hosts somewhere on the website, but you haven’t gone looking for them. you’re a little afraid that realizing that they’re not just pretty voices on your laptop, and knowing that there’s real-life faces connected to them would ruin the experience. so for now, you’re content to just imagine their voices and let your brain fill in the blanks.

you’ve been tossing around the idea of signing up for their event back and forth in your mind for a while now. being matched with a stranger at school just sounds nerve wracking, but at this point, you haven’t got much to lose. the worst that could come out of it is another bad date. plus, it’s for charity. you don’t know exactly what the parameters of the event are, but even if it doesn’t work out with whoever you’re matched with, you figure you could always just act like it did so the charity still gets the money.

what the heck, you figure. maybe it’ll be fun.

a week after signing up you get an email with info about your match and instructions on when and where to meet him. on saturday at noon he’ll be at the far corner of the café in the campus dining hall wearing a white hat, and you’re told to wear something blue so you can recognize each other.

when you get to the dining hall, the guy sitting at the table in the far corner is… attractive, to say the least. you would even call him your type, if you knew anything about him besides the fact that you’re on a blind date with a randomly paired listener of the program.

“hey! you’re my match, right? i’m junhui.” he stands up, greeting you with a shy smile. he’s deceptively taller than he looks sitting down, and you take him in for a moment.

“yeah, that’s me! nice to meet you!”

“can i buy you coffee?” he asks eagerly. “um, or whatever they have at the coffee shop.”

“oh– sure!” you say. you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but you hadn’t been expecting him to be so polite. “thank you.”

“of course,” he smiles.

you stand in line together at the register, and you order a cheap drink off the menu. but as he’s telling the barista his order, something clicks.

“hold on, you sound… really familiar.” you squint, tilting your head. he takes the two cups from the barista and looks over at you, confused. all of a sudden the realization hits you, and your eyes widen. you’d know that voice anywhere. “wait, aren’t you–”

he nods sheepishly, handing you your drink. “yeah, i’m one of the radio hosts.”

holy shit. “that’s cool that you signed up for this too, though. did one of the comm professors match people, or was it random, or…?” you ask, trailing off to let him answer.

“no, me and jeonghan put the matches together. so it was on purpose.” his fingers toy with the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “would you hate me if i told you i matched us because i’ve had a crush on you since we had com101 together?”

“really?” you laugh. blush creeps into his cheeks. “honestly, i barely paid attention in that class, i only took it for the credits.” you stop, realizing how that must sound to him. “i mean, no offense! i wasn’t trying to be rude, i just–”

he shakes his head quickly. “i get what you meant. and, it was a pretty big class, so. easy to not know everyone.”

“why didn’t you say anything? i know i probably looked grumpy in that class, but i promise i’m not,” you say, adding a smile that you hope looks encouraging.

“no! it’s not you,” he rushes to explain. “i’m just not that great at talking to people.”

“but… you host a radio show?”

“it’s not the same. i’m not truly talking to anybody but jeonghan. there’s a monitor that shows us how many people are listening, but i ignore it.” he leans back in his chair. “i have to do it as part of one of my classes, but i actually really enjoy it now.”

you smile. “that’s good that you found something you like.”

he clears his throat, taking a small sip of his drink. “so, do you, um, listen often? you don’t have to say you do if you don’t, by the way, i won’t be offended. just curious.”

you debate lying to not expose yourself, but he looks so excited to hear that you can’t honestly tell him no. “actually, yeah. i listen almost every program. you have a really nice voice.”

the tips of his ears turn bright red, and immediately you feel awkward again. “sorry, is that weird to say?”

“that’s—no, not at all!” he stammers. “i think it’s a really big compliment. thank you.”

“yeah,” you add, not sure how to respond without making things weirder. you’re both silent for a second, the busy sounds of the dining hall’s café filling the room in the absence of words.

after an almost uncomfortable amount of silence passes, you laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “so, uh, what do we need to do for this to be considered successful?”

“huh?”

“for the charity thing. how do you decide what gets donated and what doesn’t?”

his focus snaps back to you. “oh! we’re donating for all the matches, even if they don’t work. we just said that as, like, an incentive so people would sign up.”

“oh.” you nod, thinking.

“did– did you want to leave?” he asks shyly. “i don’t wanna keep you here if you’re not enjoying it.”

“did you want to leave?” you counter.

“well… no,” he says. “but i don’t wanna force you.”

“you’re not, don’t worry,” you say, shaking your head. it’s awkward, for sure, but it’s far from the worst date you’ve ever been on. the least you could do is stick it out for another half hour or so.

“sorry this is so weird,” he laughs. “i don’t go out a lot.”

“it’s fine.” you smile at him, hoping he���ll relax a little. “is that why you signed up for this?”

“well, kinda,” he nods. “i was hoping i’d recognize somebody’s name and maybe make a new friend. but this is good, too.”

you fight the urge to frown, since it’s obvious he’s trying his best, but you’re confused at his statement. “what do you mean, ‘this’?”

“i… don’t know. what do you think this is?”

“a date,” you say simply. 

“oh!” he says, fiddling with his cup again.

“is that what you want this to be?” you ask gently.

“i– yeah, that would be really cool,” he grins, nodding. “a date.”

you smile at his enthusiasm. he’s cute, and his personality is, too.

“so, what’s working at a radio station like?” you pry. having finally been able to meet the man behind the voice you’ve heard so much of, you can’t say you’re not more than a little curious about who he is.

“oh, yeah, you like hearing me talk, sorry,” he says. your face heats in embarrassment, but before you can defend yourself, he continues on. “um, it’s pretty fun. the machinery’s pretty cool, the microphones and stuff. makes me feel like a professional singer or something. even though it’s more just choosing music to play than me actually talking.”

he looks up. “you can come by while we’re live sometime, if you want,” he says. “the studio’s really nice, they have beanbag chairs and somebody always brings snacks.”

“is that allowed?”

“sure! you can be my special guest,” he grins. “only if you want,” he adds a second later, as if he’s just thought of something.

you smile warmly. “it sounds fun. i’d love to.”

his face lights up. “great! can you come monday? we’re announcing the results of the matchmaking thing then.”

“i’ll be there.”

he pauses. “is this… a second date?” he asks tentatively. god, he’s adorable.

“yes, this is a second date,” you giggle. 

he stands up. “should i walk you to your car? or is that too much?”

he holds the door open for you as you step outside.

you laugh. “no, my apartment’s on campus, i just walked here. but thank you for the offer, you’re really sweet. and thanks for the coffee, too.”

it might be because of the chilly december weather, but his cheeks seem a little pinker than before. “no problem,” he grins. “i’ll see you monday, i guess? for another date?”

“i’ll see you monday,” you confirm with a smile.

he waves, still grinning, and pulls out his phone. as you start to walk away, you hear his voice from behind you, “hannie, dude, you won’t believe what just happened!!”

you giggle to yourself. you can’t wait til monday.

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#svthub #seventeenweeklyarticle #k-labels #🌃 : june.writes #❄ june's winter wonderland! ❄ #jun fluff #junhui fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #svt imagines #junhui imagines #jun imagines #svt scenarios #jun scenarios #junhui scenarios #jun x reader #junhui x reader #junhui x you #junhui x y/n #wen junhui #svt junhui #svt jun #moon junhui #svt oneshot #seventeen oneshot #junhui fanfic #junhui seventeen #m: junhui #g: seventeen #c: fluff

[satansapostle6]

The Man Who Sold The World | Luke Castellan

Spotify Playlist Link

Katherine. She was the one who started it all for Luke Castellan, the reason he did what he did.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter Five

Chapter Six: Motel

Luke was surprised Ares had actually held up his end of the bargain. Because Katherine had committed a crime against humanity to satisfy the god’s boredom, she had been granted a single prize of her choice, as long as it could actually exist.

The object that Ares had actually fashioned for Katherine and Luke himself was a magic compass, that pointed the way to whatever a person was looking for, even in a place like Tartarus. Ares had given the brand new silver compass to Katherine before disappearing, honoring his promise to her in order to avoid the ghastly fate that followed breaking a promise on the River Styx.

Luke figured they were now truly ready to journey to the Underworld when he nervously looked around, realizing that Ares was actually gone.

“Wait. We need to be in New York, and he just left us near your old neighborhood,” he stated.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“…Where did you grow up again?” Luke asked her:

“Missouri,” the girl responded.

“Great,” Luke muttered, resenting Ares even more than he already had. “We’re a thousand miles from where we fucking need to be! Great,” he snapped, his anger getting the best of him.

“What the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” Katherine yelled back.

“You?! You’re the reason we’re in this whole mess to begin with!”

“What mess?! I got us a compass that’ll help us navigate Tartarus. I think we’re doing pretty well!” she argued.

“We’re in the middle of fucking Missouri!” Luke shouted, beyond frustrated by her lack of understanding.

“So what, we can’t just drive back?!” she reasoned.

“That’s gonna take us another full day!” he cried.

“This isn’t The Amazing Race!” Katherine exclaimed. “What’s another day?!”

“You’re not listening to me!” Luke groaned, “I told you not to trust Ares, and I told you not to go into that house! Now we have two more bodies on our hands—”

“‘We’?!” she screamed. “There is no ‘we’! Who was it that did everything, so we could get the compass from Ares?! Me! Who was it that took care of those two guys back in Oklahoma?! Oh, yeah! Me!”

“And who was the fucking reason that those guys were after us in the first place?! You! Who was it that just murdered two more people, for a fucking compass!” Luke gestated at her furiously.

“You don’t seem to have a problem with me hurting people when it saves your ass!” Katherine pointed out.

“That’s out of necessity!” he shouted. “I thought you understand that when people attack us, it makes sense to fight back! But not when Ares asks you to do it for his own entertainment! I don’t know why you would entertain something like that! Do you just like hurting people?” he demanded.

“Fuck you!” she cried, walking away. “I did that shit for us! You think I wanted to do all that shit?!”

“I thought there is no ‘us’,” Luke snarled, his mouth curling into an ugly shape as he got closer and closer. “All I try to do is help you, but you don’t seem to want help. You seem perfectly content being a piece of shit!”

“Fuck you!” Katherine boomed, a darkness consuming her. “I was wrong about you! You never could’ve did what needed to be done so we could find Kronos!”

“Fuck you!” Luke shouted in her face. “Fuck!”

“You’re a piece of shit!” she added, devolving out of rage. “I never should’ve— Fuck! I should’ve let you die in the woods!”

“Oh, yeah, and I’m the piece of shit?!” he scoffed in disbelief.

“Yeah, Luke, you’re the piece of shit,” Katherine nodded.

“Why did I ever agree to this?! I should’ve found Kronos on my own!”

“You couldn’t find shit without me!” Katherine yelled.

“Fuck…you,” Luke hissed, looking into her eyes with nothing but spite.

“Fuck you!” she screamed, roughly shoving him away.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he cried.

“Me?! What the fuck’s wrong with you!”

The two of them eventually descended into a state of blind rage, both taking out their emotions from that night on each other. Katherine shoved Luke angrily into the car, and at that point, as he lifted himself up off the car, trying to walk away, he’d had enough.

He pushed her off of him in anger, losing his mind as she decided to punch him square in the face. Not sure how he ever got to fighting her, Luke Castellan shoved her as hard as he could, somehow not pushing her down. Provoked even further by the act, Katherine threw a punch that landed on his shoulder, ducking her head as he threw one back.

Her lip was bleeding, and she swept him off his toes with her leg, spinning around like a crazed maniac to kick him in the chest as hard as she could. Luke nearly collapsed to the ground, and growled angrily as he charged her like a bull, tackling her to the ground as the two struggled, both too agitated to fight much more strategically than that.

Luke tried to shove her off of him and tackle her again, but Katherine tightened her grasp on him, legs locking around him as she suddenly fell out crying on top of him. She sobbed loudly almost like a child, crying into the crook of his neck as he stopped in surprise, freezing as he forgot what was happening. She let out a choked cry as he tentatively supported her with his hands steadying her waist.

“I’m sorry,” Katherine surrendered, her tackle turning into a more gentle straddle has he held her, ignoring the new bruise he felt forming on his cheek. “I’m sorry…”

He found himself lightly shushing her as he wept, feeling tears coming to his own eyes after everything he’d seen that night.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay,” Luke whispered, his voice cracking in pain, “It’s okay, I’m sorry too.”

Katherine pleaded and sobbed like a child, and for the first time, Luke actually understood why she was always hell-bent on being angry at the world. Right now, it seemed a hell of a lot better than this. He recognized this sudden change in her behavior. It was exactly what he’d seen in the house, with her father.

The same way he knew he’d only fought her because of his anger towards Ares, he knew she’d only fought him because she couldn’t fight her father.

“I’m sorry,” she blubbered, “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean it either,” he held her close to him, comforted by the lightly soapy smell of her hair, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He had no idea how much time they’d wasted in the middle of nowhere, but the both of them took their time before collecting themselves like adults. Eventually, the two of them sat together on the ground, next to the car.

“I’m so sorry for everything you went through, Katherine,” Luke said finally. “All of it.”

“It’s fine,” she promised him, not having much to say.

“The stuff with your dad… I get why you didn’t wanna talk about it. I get why you didn’t tell me your real name,” he admitted.

“I… My dad named me Daisy Katherine. Daisy after my aunt, and Katherine after my grandma. My aunt used to hit me, and my grandma used to sit with me with a cool cloth on my face after,” she sighed. “I’d rather be Katherine.”

“Yeah, I… I get that,” Luke nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she murmured, for the first time feeling like accepting his sympathy.

“You know, for what it’s worth… Especially after what I saw of your old life… I think you’re the strongest person alive,” Luke confessed, his blue eyes full of the truth she’d been looking for. “I don’t think you’re a monster for what you did… I think it just scared me because I know even in your shoes, I’d never be able to do what you did. Not in a thousand years. So thank you,” he murmured.

“‘Thank you’?” she questioned.

“Thank you, for being willing to do something like that for me. For us,” he said softly.

She smiled at him with a fat lip, and he gazed back at her with a black eye.

“You’re welcome, Luke,” she nodded.

Luke wasn’t sure why he wanted to kiss her. He didn’t know if he was madly in love with her, or if anyone in this moment would’ve wanted to kiss the person sitting next to them. Fearing he was become too lost in the thought, he quickly digressed as he cleared his throat.

“So we’re just stranded in Missouri?”

“Yup,” Katherine nodded, not seeming particularly enthused.

“Alright, well at least we have the car,” he gave up on expressing his anger. “We can get on the road now, if you want. Find a motel. I’ll drive,” he offered.

“Okay,” she accepted.

“You should, uh, get some rest,” he stood as she handed him the car keys.

“I don’t want to,” she spoke quietly, confusing him.

“Why?” he questioned with concern.

“I’ll just stay up with you,” Katherine told him.

“Alright,” he nodded.

They listened to the radio and sang along on the way to a motel about twenty minutes away. One of the rock stations was playing 90’s hits, and Luke and Katherine both felt at home again. For both of them, home was less of a single place and more of a general feeling.

Katherine’s home was any car with air conditioning and a radio, and Luke’s home was anywhere where silence could be a good thing. But with Katherine, Luke hated silence more than anything. When he was around her, he needed it to be filled by something, whether it be her life story or her mundane inner thoughts. But that day, in the car that night, was the first time Luke had ever heard Katherine sing.

Sure, sometimes she’d hum along to the radio while he mumbled the lyrics, but this time, she actually sang. And when he heard it, Luke could’ve sworn it was just Siouxsie and the Banshees or The Cranberries playing softly on the radio far away.

“I drive on her streets 'cause she's my companion I walk through her hills 'cause she knows who I am,”

Katherine was surprised to see him looking at her in awe as she sang.

“What?” she asked skeptically, expecting criticism or sarcasm of some sort.

“You’ve got some of the best pipes I’ve ever heard,” he admitted, rendered speechless.

“…Thank you,” she said, not knowing how else to respond.

She appreciated the compliment more than she knew how to express.

“Take me to the place I love Take me all the way,”

Luke sang along with her, laughing for what felt like the first time in forever. He felt like he couldn’t sing, especially when compared to Katherine, but somehow he felt she appreciated his singing anyway.

They were both exhausted once they’d arrived at the motel. There was someone working at the desk, who Katherine spoke to as Luke stood behind her, watching over her.

“Luke?”

He turned back to look at her, realizing he hadn’t been paying attention.

“Hmm?”

“Do you want one bed, or two?” she asked again.

He hadn’t realized that one was an option.

“Uh, whatever you want,” he said chivalrously, too exhausted to do anything but hand her his wallet.

“We’ll take one,” Katherine smiled, taking the cheaper option.

Luke gulped as he blankly stared down at the ground, realizing he would’ve been nervous if he weren’t so emotionally and physically exhausted. The entire time they walked to their room with the few things they each owned, all he could think about was sleep. The first and last thing he did upon getting into the room was flop onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Katherine announced.

“Alright,” he nodded, eyes already closed.

He wasn’t exactly sure how long he laid in bed for, but he knew that as he opened his eyes, badly needing a bottle of water, Katherine was still getting in the shower. He got up, walking over to the tiny mini fridge near the bathroom, realizing slowly in his delirious state that she’d left the door open.

Luckily, all he actually saw before she adjusted the cheap shower curtain was her back, or rather, the plenty of bruises and gashes on her back, both new and healed. He naturally looked away quickly, feeling horrible for accidentally invading her privacy. But he also knew that he was a safer place for Katherine than any other male, given that his only thought was of the pain she’d endured both in all her life and just that night alone.

He eventually wandered off to sleep, and so did she. They both went to sleep without much to say, facing away from one another as they hoped to get some rest. But as the night went on and Luke drifted in and out of sleep, he woke up closer to the morning than the night to find that he and Katherine were face to face, her face gently hidden in his chest as his arm rested above her head.

Luke worried that she might’ve moved away from him had she been aware, but his fears were eventually alleviated as he watched her move into his arms as he finally fell asleep for the last time that night.

-

Chapter Seven

#luke castellan #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #pjo series #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #jake abel #pjo #pjo luke #rick riordan #riordanverse #riordan universe #adam milligan

[faghubby]

Country gurl

it sucked living in the middle of nowhere, well not completely. My mom had moved us to a small farm house 35 miles outside of the nearest town after Dad split. I knew it was because it was cheap. But it also left me alone most of the time. Mom working long hours and then commuting. I used this time to dress up in her things. I had gotten pretty good at it over the years. The first time I was 11 and had found old girlie mags in the barn. They where from the 80's and I was fascinated by the sexy lingerie. Mom didn't have alot of sexy things just a few panties really. But that didn't stop me. The idea that it was wrong and naughty drove me. By the time I was 16 I would dress up completely in her clothes after school. I had also found her vibrator and would fuck my ass. All while I watched porn on my phone.

Now 18 graduated high school. I had no idea what to do. I ha no money to buy a car and too far to go to find a job. So I was stuck all day at home. All this extra time did nothing but feed my fetish. I now shaved my body and dressed everyday. I would share pics with men on the internet, one man sent me a bikini in the mail to model for him. I did then thought I should get a tan. The tiny thong bikini barely covered anything. But made me feel so sexy. I was laying out getting a tan one day and fell asleep. I woke suddenly to see a man standing over me.He had a small package

"Sorry I didn't mean to startle you" he said with a big smile. Looking me up and down. I grabbed a towel and tried to cover myself. As i marveled at his big arms covered in tattoos. He looked like he worked out daily. His hair cut short and clean shaven hid his age. But he was definitely old enough to be my father. He tugged on my towel pulling it away.

"No reason to do that" he said. I was beet red embarrassed for getting caught. He dropped the towel on the ground and handed me the package. Then turned and left in his truck. My dick was straining against the tiny swimsuit. But still concealed my 4 inches. I fantasized about him as I played with myself. I came twice that afternoon. It was after 5 when I heard the truck pull in. It was the same driver. I answered the door. Now wearing jeans and a teeshirt. Mom would be home soon.

"I got you something" this man told me. Now both standing on even ground I realized he was also at least a foot taller then me. He handed me a pink box. Then leaned in and kissed my cheek.

"Wear it for me, I be by tomarrow" he said with a big smile. Before he again jumped in his truck to go. I watched as he drove away. This was a real man in real life. I thought. And it scared me. I opened the box and inside was a simple flower print sun dress. I wondered if I had time to try it on before mom came home. But decided to wait. Instead I made dinner so mom could relax. The next morning I got up and put on the sundress. I waited for my mysterious man to return. It was after 2pm when he pulled in the long driveway. I met him as he got out of the truck. I did a little spin to show him the dress.

"My name is Carl," he told me. "I would love to take you dancing"

"I don't know, I have never been out" I couldn't even look at him instead staring at my feet.

"What is your name sweety?" He asked in a smooth sexy voice

"Paul" I said. He made a sigh. I looked up.

"Pauline" I corrected. I watched as his eyes lit up. He stepped close his hand slid under the dress. Right in the dirt driveway. I looked around knowing no one was around but still scared someone would see. His fingers rubbed against my panties. He then spun me around and lifted the dress to check out my ass. Then smacked it with his big hand.

he then took my phone from my hand and added his number. Along with some other links.

"Pauline, I plan on taking you dancing he told me. He handed me another package. Pulled me into his arms and kissed me deep. His tounfe probed my mouth as he did. I melted in his arms. Then again he left me standing in the dirt as he drove away.

It was two days later when I got a package thru the regular mail. I opened it to find pink cowgirl boots. Carl called me that night. He started to call, text, message. Everyday. He called me his girl. He had me send him pics of me dressed in various outfits. Very few days another package. Lingerie, perfume, even a big dildo. He video called me to watch me fuck myself with the toy. Everyday he asked me to go dancing, I always said no. Then one day he sent me silicone enhancers to put in a bra so It looked like I had breast. I loved them and would wear them everyday. I finally agreed to go dancing with him. I picked a night mom had to work. I got dressed in my sundress and boots. Styled my long blonde hair. And he picked me up in his pick up truck. He drive me to a honky tonk. At first I was nervous but after he got me served and I had a drink or two in me I relaxed. First a line dance easy enough. But then he pulled me close and we slow danced. No one looked at me different. When Carl got tired he sat. And several other men asked for a dance. I watched Carl as he watched me dance with these other guys. He then told me it was time to go. In the truck he looked over at me

"Naughty little girl you are" he teased. "Dancing with all those other guys" he continued. I reached over to him.

"I am sorry I didn't mean" I was saying as he placed my hand on his growing crotch. He knew I had never. But I didn't say a word instead I unzipped his jeans and fished out his growing cock. It was bigger then I had imagined. Probably 8 inches long and my hand just closed around it. I leaned over and kissed the head as I started to stroke him. Carl found a remote dirt road and pulled down it stopping and having me get out. He took off my dress. I stood in a matching pink thong and bra he had bought me and the pink cowgirl boots. He had me get on my knees in front of the truck. The lights still on as I started to suck his cock. After a minute he pulled my hair and started to shove his cock down my throat. I couldn't breath. As he face fucked me. He called me dirty whore, faggot and sissy bitch. As he did. Just as I thought I would pass out he pulled back and shot his load all over my face. I laid in the dirt trying to catch my breath. He went to take a piss. As he walked back.

"Don't get up you can suck me hard again" he told me. He walked over to me I got back on my knees. And took him in my mouth again. He got hard quickly. And pulled me to my feet. He bent me over the hood of his truck. He squeezed lube in my ass. Then shoved his cock in. He didn't wait or go slow he drove his cock balls deep. I screamed and cried as he fucked me with long hard strokes.

"Such a tight bitch" he told me his large hands pulling my hips to him.

"I am going to use your ass everyday" he moaned. I saw lights go by on the road. No where people coming? Carl didn't even slow as he pumped his seed into my ass. As he pulled out I felt empty as his cum ran out my now stretched ass. He helped me back into his truck. And drove me home. I was a mess. As he pulled in the driveway I noticed my mother's car. Shit how would I explain how I was dressed. Carl parked and got out of the car. He opened the door for me and pulled me into his arms kissing me. The porch lights came on. I saw my mother step out on the porch. Carl let me go. I dropped my head and walked past my mother on the way into the house. She followed me inside.

"We can talk later " she said seeing my state in the light of the room. I went upstairs and showered. As I got in the shower I was rock hard. After all that I had not cum. I jerked off thinking about Carl. Had I enjoyed that? I thought. Knowing I needed him to use me again. I came almost immediately. I got out of the shower. I slipped on a fresh pair of panties and went to bed. My mom had left for work by the time I got up. Carl texted me a dick pic.

Want this again don't you it said. I did but didn't answer him. My mom and I never teally had that talk. She just excepted it and we didn't talk about it. Carl returned three days later. He liked to take me out in public. And use me for his pleasure after. He continued to buy me clothes and jewelry wanting me dressed pretty for him. Only to stain it or tear it off me before the end of the night. Within a month I hardly ever wore my boy clothes. Even my mother called startedcalling me Pauline. Carl had me move in with him 6 months later. Mom worried about the age difference. But wished me all the best.

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

Chat writes the plot! Time for more 👑🐲🐟 KotD!

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~King of the Dragonfish: Chapter 7~

Obi-Wan uses a faint tendril of force to brush over his kyber, sending the animus of it his affection. It murmurs back at him, ill at ease to be handled by the energy signature it knows as Maul.

With a sigh, the jedi holds the hilt out. “Kneeling wasn't in the agreement.”

The other man sways closer, tense and watchful.

“It would please me to see you on your knees,” the sith says, reaching out and lifting the unlit saber from his palm.

Obi-Wan leans back on a hip, and crosses his arms. “I'm sure it would. Beat me up some more if you must, but I won't kneel to a sith lord willingly.”

Maul squints at him, calculating, and he has the uncomfortable realization that the other man may have simply taken that as a challenge.

“Hmmm…” The half dragonfish hums, twirling Obi-Wan's saber between his fingers, then igniting it.

He can feel the kyber song shudder. It does not want to be wielded in darkness.

Maul makes a swift strike, stopping a matter of inches from his hips. “Perhaps I should take your legs as you took mine… would that not be fair?” The man sneers, “Surely you jedi care about fairness.”

“No,” Obi-Wan counters, not giving an inch despite the sputtering heat of his own blade too close to his side, crackling as it resists this use. “The jedi code isn't concerned with being fair, only just.”

Maul grins. The defiance only seems to please him.

The dragonfish sith extinguishes the blade and sways backward on his tail, retreating to the water's edge. “I will return, and then I will take you to a different cave. Be prepared to go, jedi. I will drag you under either way.”

“Wonderful,” Obi-Wan drawls as Maul backflips into the water, hardly making a splash, “It's a date.”

Alone again, unarmed again, the jedi prisoner scowls and goes to lurk beside the magma ball. It's only mildly warm now, the cooled shell being too good of an insulator. The center of it is likely still fluid, but it's thermal radiance is diminished. Obi-Wan still leans back against it, plotting.

He had been too stressed on that first day to pay much attention to the pathway Maul had taken from open sea to this particular cave as he kidnapped Obi-Wan to it. An oversight on his part. They would be going to a new one though, and as much as he isn't looking forward to the blasted cold, it would provide an opportunity to learn some of the area.

He could pay attention to the path between here and there, and then, maybe in a day or two, find a way to make Maul consider the new cave to also be an unacceptable cell. The sith would move him again. Another opportunity.

It would take time, cunning, and no small amount of manipulation, but if he could map out enough of these caves, he may be able to learn a way out.

The next problem would be getting all the way to the surface, slowly enough to not die of drowning or diver’s sickness.

One problem at a time.

Obi-Wan flips where he's leaning on the magma rock, attempting to warm his front side in advance of this next trip. That's how Maul finds him, practically hugging the misshapen ball of it.

“Jjjedi,” the sith calls to him from the water. “Come.”

Rather than waste energy being difficult when he wants to be focused and aware for the trip to the next cave, Obi-Wan opts to approach the water himself, and -with a grimace- take a deep breath and hop in. He manages to not gasp from the immense chill by a small margin of success. The temperature is bitterly cold, shocking even when he'd prepared.

Regardless of the chill, it's beautiful and alive down here. The seaweed drifts like tall, ribbon grass. The moss glows white and blue. Little fingerling fish with translucent bodies school around pink coral and porous stone.

Amid the beauty, the sith swims over to him, black and red and incongruous with it all… yet a part of it. A monster from above with dual citizenship on the ocean floor.

Maul swishes up to him, fast and graceful, and grabs his tunics before taking off.

‘Well,’ Obi-Wan thinks as he relaxes into the hold, ‘at least he isn't coiling around me like a vice this time.’

Maul glides them through the water, into a small tunnel that opens up into a larger one after only a few feet. Obi-Wan can see it going off to the left and right, lit by the moss. The sith takes them left, around a curve in the tunnel. The path splits into a dark corridor. They go left again, then right.

He hopes they arrive quickly, he'd like to breathe soon.

They go up, across the open sands of a massive cave the size of the senate chamber. The space is brightly lit by orange crystals and purple fish that glow in neon stripes.

He's running out of breath.

Their path leads though a hole in the wall. Obi-Wan looks upward, hoping to see an air pocket…

There isn't one.

Alarmed, he wacks Maul in the chest and gestures at his mouth. Where in the blazes are they going? He needs air! Even with the lungs of a swordfighter and the aid of the force, he has to-

Maul presses their mouths together, and breathes into him.

‘What,’ he thinks dumbly. The jedi master feels six different things at once. His thoughts are mangled by the chaos.

Now his lungs are overful, but the edge is taken off from his need to inhale. Obi-Wan lets some of the air escape him, making a cascade of silvery bubbles erupt around their faces. Maul does it again. A second stale breath fills him.

Oh. Right, yes, okay, the sith has made himself into a rebreather.

Obi-Wan breathes out again…

…and the Dragonfish sith gives him air once more.

… and again.

… and again.

They breach a water surface and Obi-Wan opens his eyes, blinking owlishly.

When had he closed them??

'Drat,' he thinks, dismayed.

… he'd lost track of their path.

Maul lifts him onto shore, and he feels heat at his back. Obi-Wan rolls towards it before he's even got his bearings, shivering and disoriented.

Mmmmm. Warm.

“This shall serve. A gorogoro cannot pass the threshold to enter unless it is juvenile, the door is too small,” Maul declares, sounding pleased with himself.

“That's nice,” Obi-Wan tells him, trying to get as close to the fresh magma ball as possible without burning himself. He shrimps around it with a sigh.

“You will drink. There is fruit. I shall hunt, while the magma is still hot enough to cook on. Speak your preference, Kenobi, or I will simply bring you crab.”

“I love crab,” he tells the wonderful black stone before him, “but I've no seafood cracker.”

The sith snorts, “You are an idiot,” the man tells him.

With a small splash, he's gone.

Obi-Wan's desire to be warmer fights with his desperate need to hydrate, until finally he gets up and at least looks for the supposed fruit.

There, not five feet away, is a massive pile of coconuts and laundry. He squints at it, making sure he's seeing it right. Did the oxygen deprivation do something to him…?

No, indeed, it's a pile of coconuts and laundry. There's even a laundry line and clothespins mixed up in it.

“Why-” he starts, then shakes his head, “No, nevermind. Let's see if I can split a coconut with the force.”

He can, but it spills the majority of the milk everywhere. Obi-Wan screws up enough coconut crackings to get his clothes covered in it, but who cares? The swim here might've cleaned off most of the octopus viscera, but he is still wet anyway. What's a little more?

The trick, it turns out, is drilling a hole in the top with a sharp rock, and drinking from that.

🔥🔥🔥 don't forget to reblog tysm! 🔥🔥🔥

New? Start from Chapter 1! 👇🏽

#king of the dragonfish #reblog to spread the joy of crazy mermaid!maul this holiday season ✨ #the live feature we all actually wanted #chat writes the plot #fanfiction live #star wars #ao3 #darth maul #fanfic rec #sith #zabrak #deep sea #ocean horror #obi wan kenobi #Obi-Wan #obiwan #obiwan Kenobi #the phantom menace #tcw #star wars tcw #clone wars #starwars #sw prequels #yo anakin is somewhere losing his mind right now #all he's getting through the training bond is muted pain and upset #the force might work like that #the force #monster!maul #monster au #sith lords

[dalishthunder]

A Game of Go

Chapter 7: Helen of Troy

[AO3 Link]

"We must try to develop greater perspective, looking at situations from all angles. Usually when we face problems, we look at them from our own point of view. We even sometimes deliberately ignore other aspects of a situation. This often leads to negative consequences. However, it is very important for us to have a broader perspective. We must come to realize that others are also part of our society. We can think of our society as a body, with arms and legs as parts of it. Of course, the arm is different from the leg; however, if something happens to the foot, the hand should reach down to help. Similarly, when something is wrong within our society, we must help."

-His Holiness the Dalai Lama

You picked listlessly at the protein bar in your hand, face filled with an emotion Ramattra couldn’t quite place.

Despondence perhaps?

Eventually you put it down on the desk, only partially eaten, with a sigh.

“Is something the matter?” He asked after a moment, placing his tools on the work bench.

You gave him a small smile and shook your head, you had for the past several days worn a similar expression… and each time he asked if anything was wrong, you would shake your head with a downright doleful smile.

“I’m fine,” You said, though your voice betrayed you.

“Do not lie to me.” Perhaps his voice was a touch sterner than it needed to be, but he had grown tired of this game; He was not going to hem and haw around an issue he could see, but could not identify.

You immediately snapped to attention, a startled look on your face.

At least you were no longer downcast.

“It’s fine, really. It’s nothing you need to worry about,” You stammered, occupying your hands with the protein bar, picking and twisting.

“I am not worried, I am… concerned. I cannot remedy something if you do not articulate what troubles you.”

You gave him a sheepish smile, “I think the lack of sunlight is starting to affect me.”

He tilted his head, “I’m afraid I do not understand.”

“We actually need sunlight to synthesize certain vitamins in our body. Lack of sunlight can severely impact us, but I didn’t realize it would happen so quickly.”

“Humans truly are fragile,” He hadn’t intended for it to come out so callously, but as you winced, smile faltering for just a second, he felt a pang of guilt.

“Y-yeah. Just a bit.” There was more that you had to say, but you chewed on your words for a moment before continuing, “And you’re probably not going to like this, but there are certain micronutrients that human bodies need that aren’t present in protein bars. Not- not that I’m complaining, I knew going into this that I probably wouldn’t be eating the same sort of prepared foods that I was before, but I think the lack of vegetables or even a multivitamin might be fucking with my system.”

“Oh,” He hadn’t thought about that.

“Even if we can’t get any vegetables, a multivitamin and water-soluble fiber should be okay.” You quickly added.

Just another way for Talon to figure out that you were human.

Not that he wasn’t already positive that they figured it out already. They weren’t exactly known for being dullards.

“If that is what you need.” He stated simply, and you seemed to relax as though you had been preparing for some sort of battle. “Add it to our requisition forms. I’m sure it will be the easiest of the items on there to procure.”

“Thank you.” You swallowed before letting out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of your head. “I don’t know why I thought this was going to be a more difficult conversation.”

Something in him sank at your words, “I am a reasonable omnic.”

You seemed to bite your tongue at that remark, and he bristled a bit.

“I am.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” You raised your hands placatingly, brows furrowing. “It’s just… sometimes you don’t like my ideas, and I was worried that this would be another one of those times.”

He did not ask for your ideas.

He did not ask for your assistance.

He did not ask you to join him.

He could do this alone.

He had been doing this alone for a long time.

Ramattra stared at you for a moment, processor picking through each of your interactions, and he begrudgingly had to admit that… you weren’t completely incorrect. Since you had chosen to join his cause, he had been… less than charitable when you shared your ideas.

… Your words were not without some truth.

A pregnant pause filled the room, and you cleared your throat awkwardly, “So, um, thanks. For hearing me out this time.”

He mulled on his words, picking over them, sorting the wheat from the chaff, and after another long moment he sighed, “You said when you had first joined, ‘Follow the money. Target them, and the people will begin to rise up.’ Tell me which of those so-called ‘Hard Targets’ you deem most worthy of death and I shall bring them to their end.”

A small compromise.

Nothing that would delay his schedule, but a show of good faith.

He could see the way your hands quivered, eyes ablaze with a mixture of surprise and excitement.

“Are… are you sure?” There was a touch of horror in your voice as you spoke… you really were such a gentle creature, of course you would have your reservations, but there was steel in there as well. You could do this.

You just needed a push.

“Quite.”

You swallowed and he took a step towards you, tipping your chin up. It was a small compromise, but he still knew how difficult it must be for you. A wave of affection coursed through his processor, and found himself leaning down to touch his forehead to your own.

“Annihilation stirs at your command.”

It was impossible to miss the shiver that ran across your back, pupils dilating, blood and pulse racing under your skin. Your eyes fluttered closed after a few seconds, and you leaned into his touch, nose bumping against his faceplate.

Idly he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have your lips pressed against him.

Probably no different from your fingertips… though the texture would be different, wouldn’t it….

After all, the texture of your skin was different on your palms than on your cheeks.

How many different textures would he have discovered on your body should you let him explore it?

“You need only direct it.”

Annihilation stirs at your command.

You need only direct it.

You looked at the photos in front of you, people all smiling with shiny, perfect, white teeth.

Today you condemn someone to their death.

No trial.

No plea.

No jury.

You were the judge. The one who held the thread of fate between your fingers, scissors in hand…. Because even if you weren’t the one pulling the trigger, you were about to commit a murder. Blood would still be on your hands, blood you could never wash off no matter how necessary it was.

You swallowed, saliva thick in your throat, lead in your stomach.

You knew the atrocities these people committed regularly, you knew the world would be a better place without each and every one of them in it.

You supposed that made it easier….

Please don’t ask me to shoot anyone.

You really should have been more specific, but this had been your idea; Take out the wealthy and influential people who were actively oppressing humans and omnics alike.

You could do this.

You could do this.

You could do this.

No you couldn’t….

Yes.

You could.

Ramattra wouldn’t take any of your ideas seriously if you couldn’t follow through on even one of them.

You weren’t pulling the trigger.

You didn’t have to look your victim in the eyes as it happened.

But it would still happen.

You let out a shaky breath. You wondered if this would get any easier. If this was how Ramattra had felt when he had first decided how to help his people….

He had been born of war and violence… did he feel at home in it?

Did he feel any remorse for his actions?

… Did that even change the way you felt about him?

You knew that he wasn’t actively trying to hurt citizens, but so much of what he was doing was… crude. Like a bowie knife being used for surgery.

And you understood that that was how he thought people would listen; How he would be able to protect his people…. But you knew people. You knew how societies operated. It was kind of your whole thing.

… Okay, maybe not your whole thing considering it wasn’t what you did for a living, but still. It was something you understood intimately.

Ramattra would listen to you.

This was the first step in that.

Annihilation stirs at your command.

You need only direct it.

You could do this.

You would do this.

Today, you killed your first man.

… History would forgive you….

… Right?

Ramattra looked over the manifests you had devised, noting that you had added some food to it. Carefully worded and hidden, but food nonetheless.

Good.

He needed you alive and well… though he shifted uncomfortably at the thought of Talon discovering you. No matter how careful he was, there would always be that possibility….

He would need to train you in the art of self defense, devise some sort of weapon for you so that even when he was not by your side, you weren’t defenseless.

He wondered how you’d take to a gun….

Though his thoughts were disturbed as you were particularly loud when you threw open the door.

“Marcus Resnick.” The first words out of your mouth as you entered the room, pulling out a tablet and placing it on the table in front of him. “Inheritor of the Resnick fortune, and responsible for the merger between Nestle Co, and The Wonderful Company, and owner of millions of acres in plantations that exploit both impoverished children and the lack of omnic rights protections in many countries. Currently responsible for the civil unrest in both the Cote d’Ivoire and Cameroon, and heavily linked to the assassination of omnic rights activists Maria Santiago and André Papillon, as well as prominent political figures in the Republic of Ecuador.”

There was steel in your voice, in your eyes, in your posture as you looked at him.

“That was… quicker than expected,” He admitted. You were a gentle creature… he thought it would have taken longer for you to deliberate on the misdeeds of others to decide who he should eliminate.

Good.

Decisiveness was a good look on you.

“Yes, well… I appreciate you taking my suggestions into consideration…. And if there is anyone other than prominent politicians who deserve death, it’s probably him. Even in nations like the United States, The Wonderful Company is allowed to use fracking waste water, as well as irradiated water, to water their produce which has led to increased birth defects and cancers in multiple areas. Operating globally, they also control Fiji water which has led to droughts on the island nation that their puppet politicians have done nothing to address for the past eighty years. Even if he gives millions to charities a year, he’s a trillionaire who would grind us all beneath his heel if given the chance.”

There was so much passion in your voice, fire in your eyes, the way the corners of your mouth turned down as you spat out this man’s sins. It was… intoxicating.

He glanced at the tablet in front of him, you’d written up a report for him. He almost wished he could smile.

How quaint.

As though your words alone were not enough of a reason for him to kill.

“Not to mention the amount of pollution his factories contribute to-”

He reached out, fingers brushing over your cheek, and you stuttered, trailing off. Your skin was so warm under his sensors.

Once upon a time, Ramattra had tried to understand the human condition… read their myths and legends and spiritual texts.

He hadn’t cared for much of them outside of their prose and poetic symbolism.

But looking at you now, hearing your voice, he… understood why Troy fell when they had taken Helen.

Why a war could be waged for one, singular person.

Ramattra did not take pleasure in killing.

Satisfaction perhaps… but not pleasure.

… But he had to admit that he would take great joy in pruning the world into something you deemed beautiful.

Life by life.

#thunderous applesauce #ramattra #ramattra x reader #overwatch x reader #odt #a game of go

[sunmoonjune]

Oh my gosh I can’t believe I’m so late to the party but I finally had time to read Spring Tides and ohhhhhhh myyyy gosh!!!!

1. I’ve missed your universe so much! I’m about to reread all of ltm again because I’ve missed it so much and this was such a wonderful treat that I didn’t realize I needed!

2. Wooyoung finally got rid of the shackle! I’m so happy to see the little sunshine finally put it behind him and be free! He absolutely deserves it!

3. Man, tattooed Ateez really is my weakness I loved hearing about what tattooed they all have! I love how they’re connected to each other (or they’re not and I’m horribly wrong) like it’s so adorable and wholesome!

4. I love love LOVE Bug talking more and getting used to her voice again! The way you talk about her voice getting better and her getting used to it more made me smile so big my cheeks hurt. The sound I let out when she laughed and took her mask off wasn’t human I swear! I was so happy to see it and it’s so deserved! Bug deserves all the happiness in the world and I’m happy she has Ateez to bring her that happiness.

You have once again done such an amazing job with writing and I really hope life is treating you well! 💖💖

Also I saw your author’s note and could I please be added to the tag list? If not that’s completely fine! Thank you in advance! 💖💖💖💖

omg spooky!! it's been a while lovely I'm so glad to see your user in my inbox <33

hehe I'm so happy you liked spring tides and another look into the ltm universe! I too was missing bug and the boys so I was very excited to release it <3

yes!! woo gets rid of the shackle! this is technically a bit of a spoiler but I couldn't help but throw it into the oneshot too see how many ppl would notice OoO but it will be addressed in the future >:)

tattooed atz!! I actually had all their tattoos planned from the beginning of atz (except a few) and just... forgot to write about them tbh xD but yes!! a bunch of their tattoos are linked to each other! ESP woosan (their matching tattoos in ltm drive me and loren BONKERS I swear we talked about them for like two whole days) but every member of atz has some kind of tattoo in ltm and I'll start slipping in references to them as the story goes on xD

bug using her voice <33 I didn't want to jump straight into her using it completely because I honestly see her continuing to use the language of touch and sign more commonly than her voice since she's spent a significant portion of her life selectively mute,, but I also wanted to show that with a lot of time and healing, being able to speak was something she became more comfortable with <3 she truly does deserve the world tho omg I've never loved one of my own characters more <3 :")

I'm so so happy you liked the oneshot!! It makes my day to get asks like this so thank you so much dear <33 and I think you're already on my taglist for ltm! unless I'm mistaken (I could be its been a long time :')) ) if you didn't get tagged when spring tides came out let me know and I'll see if I messed it up!

#moonie speaks #like the moon #moonie's favs <3

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

Honestly, I'm not sure I can take another two years of this. Four hours of content and the story hasn't progressed one iota. Will is still relegated to Ml!even relationship counselor and Vecna-detector status, and they've made Mike go so unforgivably all in on his bullshit that even if he's projecting, I've lost all respect for his character. "My life began that day I saw you in the forest"? Utter horseshit, and no need for it. J,W and M could all have saved her together with family love

Well, I finished watching, and, of all the messages I got, this one probably summed up my thoughts the best.

Not only is Will still silently suffering, but he also feels compelled to help Mike with his relationship with El because he sees how upset Mike is.

I mean, I've been there. It's a horrible, bittersweet thing to love someone so much that you tear yourself apart to see them happy. Everything Will said to Mike in the van was how he felt about him. How Will feels different, like a mistake, but Mike gives him the strength to go on. That cut me deeply. They really went there, and they didn't, possibly aren't going to, resolve it.

Will is the sad gay boy. The fact that he had to sit there and listen to Mike essentially tell El that meeting her was the best thing he's ever done...

I realize Will loves his sister, but there's no way that didn't hurt him. He's literally having to watch as everything he ever wanted slips away.

I realize Mike is clueless and oblivious in the best of time, but how can he not realize what Will is really saying?

Everything, absolutely everything, about Will's story this season was for the benefit of Mike and El. Even his painting only served to help get Mike and El back together. They led us to believe it was linked to Will's love for Mike, and, while technically true, the conversation was entirely about Mike and El. It was just an elaborate "wink and nod" to people who have picked up on Will's feelings in the past.

Will's own development is one of the most painful tragedies I've ever seen.

No Trance, no addressing his own pain aside from a couple "up to interpretation" conversations. No acknowledgement of him being significant in any way, shape, or form. He's still just a sad gay kid who can sense the Mindflayer. A poor kid who just was apparently in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Oh, and the Mindflayer is apparently Vecna all along, somehow, even though we saw him find it in the Upside Down when he got there?

I don't get it. At all. Why are they doing this? I feel like they're building up Will's pain just so he eventually lashes out and becomes a villain.

I...I need to think, but I don't know that I want to continue on this journey after this.

I was wrong about so, so much, but that's not what really bothers me. I've been very wrong about many things before.

What bothers me is that they led us to believe that it was all going somewhere. That they'd address Will's sexuality. They didn't. At best they hinted at it, just a little stronger than before. That they were "building that up." They didn't. In fact, they tore it down. That Will might again be important. He wasn't. That the painting was significant. It wasn't.

What was with the harness? The photos in the roller rink? Why even build up his feelings for Mike?

I'm at the point where I don't think I'd even accept it if he and Mike eventually got together. At best, they're prepping for a "final 10 minutes" confession. At worst, Will gets to watch, assuming he's alive, as Mike and El live happily ever after.

I'm sorry I led so many of you astray. I just...really thought the evidence added up.

#stranger things 4 #byler #stranger things 4 spoilers

[laurzzz]

Question, how would you advise a beginner to animate? Like, tips and tricks qwq

Hmmm... Idrk if I'm qualified to be answering questions like these considering I've never taken art or animation classes but I'll try to give a list of some personal takeaways I've had from my journey in teaching myself to being an animator.

It's going to be a bit of a long read so I'll keep it under the cut for those interested!

Here are a few things I learned in my ongoing learning experience as a self-taught animator:

The 12 Principles of Animation - I'm going to start using a bit of technical terms here so I suggest you first study this video to understand my ramblings below!

Break things down one by one - this was one of the struggles I've had when I first started animating. I wanted to make smooth and completely extravagant animations without planning what I wanted to animate into pieces. You really ought to break down body parts, starting off with the limbs that are dominantly leading the main body first (for example torso and legs) before adding the arms and other appendages that are often dragged along by the main body. Here's an example of a study I did months ago showcasing what I mean! (Though it's not the smoothest I've ever made, but it's the only study animation I have readily available lmao). This doesn't have to be for animations alone though, it can be for animatics as well. Make sure you're doing them step by step, starting with rough storyboards to sketching then moving up to lining the backgrounds and characters and adding effects last to not overwhelm yourself.

Pacing - I loved it when I had that epiphany moment after first realizing this. Be it if you're trying to make smooth animations or trying to tell stories with simple animatics like I do— pacing will always be a key and important principle in animation. You can make the smoothest looking animations with only 8fps (as opposed to industry standards of 24fps) if you know how to pace your frames, and you can tell the most impactful stories with only a few shots if you know how long or how short a scene should stay on screen.

Other Principles - ofc pacing isn't the only principle we have in animation that serve significant purposes as well. There are many others as well as linked in the first bullet of this list!

References and Studying - I don't think I need to elaborate further on this. Even animators need references they ought to study to make their creations more life-like!

Animation Program - this advice is not for everyone. Simply because some people can work with any animation program, but I can't. I struggle with programs that don't feel "intuitive" to me, so if you're anything like that I suggest finding a program you're most comfortable with in order to focus on the animating part more than the technical stuff.

Simplicity - another major struggle I had in the past. I used to animate with a semi-realistic artstyle. Not that it's bad or wrong to do so, I'm sure as hell there's tons of people out there who have semi-realistic animation art styles and are rocking it. But for beginners, it's best to keep your style simple, this is so you can focus on worrying about how you can apply the animation principles you're learning without getting too overwhelmed with the amount of details you have to add with each frame. You can develop a more complicated style later on as you progress!

Continue - ofc no one ever gets better just by learning for a day and completely stopping. Rome wasn't built in a day, take your time in accompanying yourself through this journey and soon enough you'll be looking back at the already long path you've taken.

Aaand that's it! I might one day look back at this list and go "Aw tf you telling this person right now, that ain't right" because I've learned some new things as well but this is the best that my present skills and knowledge can give you. Do keep in mind I've only been animating for 2 years and I am just as much as a beginner as you are, in a sense, but I like sharing what I know so I hope this helped a bit even if I'm probably not qualified to be sharing this at all LMAO

Good luck on your animator's journey! It's gonna be one hell of a struggle at the start but there'll be some wonderful payoffs once you start to greatly improve! :}

#food

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Secrets of the Shadows Pt 3 (Wolf Link Reveal Fic)

(@ludoluck @goosekee @artisticgamer)

Summary: When Link goes missing shortly after his adventure, Rusl is worried. Preparing to leave and search for him, he stumbles onto a wolf. This has to be a sign of trouble, right? Rusl thinks it is, and the swordsman attempts to eliminate the threat... and then realizes that there is far, far more to this beast than he thought possible.

(Click here to read on AO3)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Rusl’s neck was killing him. Probably because he’d fallen asleep in a chair and his head was bent forward at an awkward angle. He stretched, feeling his neck pop uncomfortably, and he grimaced. Then he looked down at the bed to check on Link.

His boy was quiet. Still. Entirely too still. Entirely too pale.

He wasn’t breathing.

“Link?!” Rusl immediately yelped, leaping towards the teenager, shaking him. “Link!”

His fingers slid clumsily towards Link’s neck, knowing there should be a pulse point there somewhere, but he felt nothing. His world started spiraling, and he called out for Renado. He didn’t know what to do, he—

Pulling back the blanket, he saw blood everywhere. Link’s wound—hadn’t it been healed? Why was it—he’d been bleeding all night and—goddesses no, no—

Rusl let out a cry of despair, holding his child and sobbing.

Gasping, Rusl nearly fell to the floor from the chair he’d been sitting on. He looked around wildly, adrenaline still surging through him, and saw that the bed in front of him was empty.

Empty.

No. No, no, no no no no nonono—

Rusl leapt to his feet, dizzy for a moment but ignoring it in lieu of searching for Link. He couldn’t have—that was just a dream, right, there was—the bed wasn’t empty because Link had been taken away, because Link had died, it was just—

Panting for air, Rusl rushed down the stairs of the inn where he had carried Link last night, and he nearly fell flat on his face when he saw his boy standing in the foyer.

“Link—what are you—are you okay?” he asked breathlessly, running to him and putting his hands on his shoulders. Before Link could even get a word in, Rusl added, “You almost died, Link, you need to rest!”

Renado walked up beside him, his calm demeanor bringing down the frantic energy in the room as Rusl finally got his wits about him. Link hadn’t died, he was fine, he was standing here, which was a huge improvement, but also—why was the boy out of bed he needed to recover—

“I was going to say that you should get back to bed,” Renado said serenely, a small smile on his face. “I admire your tenacity, Link, but your father is right. Give yourself another day to recover; the potions healed your wound, but you still lost a lot of blood.”

Link, already starting to look tired from the exertion, nodded reluctantly, allowing Rusl to guide him back towards his bed. He started leaning heavily on him and the railing by the time they got halfway up the stairs, panting for air, and Rusl just picked him up and carried him the rest of the way. When the boy was placed gently on the mattress, Rusl saw that he had a guilty expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” the swordsman asked as he helped him lean against his pillow and the headboard.

“I didn’t mean t’ cause all this fuss,” Link said very quietly, eyes downcast.

Rusl felt his heart nearly stop. He what? What was he talking about? What would even—why would he—

“Spirits, Link,” Rusl said, his mind whirling. “You didn’t—this isn’t your fault.”

And then the emotions from all of it returned in an instant, and he finally, finally found the words to at least attempt to apologize, to at least try to address all the damage he had done. Rusl wasn’t sure he wanted to have this conversation, but Link’s seeming guilt about the entire ordeal was enough to spur him into action, even if he would rather disappear into the shadows and never have to see his boy look so hurt and scared again.

“I-it’s my fault,” he stammered. “I’m the one who hurt you, and—and I—Link, I—"

Link watched him, his guilt turning into worry and pain, and Rusl nearly lost his nerve right there.

“Damn it, Link, I—I didn’t know,” he choked out, fumbling to make his point. “I—how could I possibly know that you—Link, I am so sorry—”

“Pa…” Link whispered weakly as Rusl cried silently. The boy’s own eyes started to well with tears, and his bottom lip trembled. “P-Pa… Pa it’s okay… you d-didn’t know…”

Rusl continued to cry, his shoulders shaking. He attempted to pull Link close until the teenager winced in pain, and his guardian froze, feeling sick and horrified all over again. He bit his lip to stop himself from outright sobbing in front of the boy. This was not how this apology was supposed to go.

Link watched him, his face pinched in discomfort, and his own tears began to overflow as he clearly started to feel even more guilty. “Pa I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Don’t,” Rusl immediately cut off, his voice shaking. He wiped a few stray tears off his boy’s cheeks. “Don’t you dare apologize, Link. Don’t even think about it.”

“B-but you—you think I’m a monster—”

The rest of Link’s ramblings fell on deaf ears as Rusl stared at him with his mouth agape. Did… what?! What in the world would compel Link to think Rusl thought—he—why would—

Was that why Link had been recoiling from him all this time?!

Goddesses. Of course it is. I called him a beast the first time. I almost killed him the second. Of course he thinks I view him as a monster; how many others have called him that?

Rusl placed both hands on Link’s face, cupping his cheeks and wiping the tears away with his thumbs before his hands slid down to grip the boy’s shoulders firmly. He looked him straight in the eye, feeling himself shiver, fighting his own emotional turmoil. He couldn’t even put into words how much it hurt his heart and soul to see Link making such an assumption, to see him suffering from the thought that his loved ones were afraid of him.

To know that he himself was the reason Link felt that way.

Why else would Link not speak of this strange ability of his? Why else would he hide from his family?

“Get away, beast!!”

Rusl bit his tongue, trying to steady his breathing as Link watched him pitifully, eyebrows crinkled together, cheeks puffed, face flushed.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Rusl said softly, breathing as evenly as possible to ensure his voice didn’t quiver. “No matter what form you take, no matter what befalls you, I will never think you’re a monster. You’re… you’re like a son to me, Link. You always will be. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

Link sniffled, biting his lip in an attempt to get a hold of himself. Rusl’s heart ached at the sight, and he pulled his boy to his chest, holding him tightly. “I love you so much, Link, and I’m so very proud of you.”

Link shivered, crumpling in the embrace and holding onto Rusl’s tunic with a weak grip. He shook rhythmically with quiet sobs, and Rusl held him even more tightly. He wanted to give him all the comfort in the world, but a sliver of fear slid into his heart like a dagger made of ice.

Memories of those wretched nights came back, memories of swords and torches and a terrified wolf, and Rusl felt he didn’t even deserve to be holding Link.

“You know I would never willingly hurt you, Link,” Rusl said, dread and a sickening self-loathing filling him at the thought of Link believing he hurt him knowingly. He pulled away to look his boy in the eye. “You know that, right?”

Link’s lip trembled, his eyes filled with tears, and he nodded, saying thickly, “I know, Pa.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Rusl argued, shaking his head as his own voice trembled. “Tell me you know.”

“I promise,” Link insisted, wrapping his arms around Rusl’s neck and hugging him. “I promise I know.”

Rusl sighed heavily, still feeling like the worst guardian in all of Hyrule, but also released from the terror that had been gripping him since that first night. He held Link tightly, carding a hand through his hair and kissing him gently on the head as the tears fell. There was a silent peace between the two, washing away the terror of the past couple days in a way that words could never do. And then Rusl had another thought pop into his mind, and he had to break the moment.

With a morose laugh, he asked, “Any other secrets I should know before disaster?”

Link pulled away a little, hiccupping and looking thoughtful. “W-well… I was trained in more sword skills by a skeletal version of the Hero before me. And he could turn into a golden wolf.”

Rusl stared at him a moment, dumbfounded. Then he decided he didn’t care. Pulling Link back to him, he commented, “At this point, I’ve heard of stranger things.”

Link giggled weakly into his chest, a bubbly, thick, almost carefree sound, and it released the last vestiges of tension in Rusl’s heart. The swordsman smiled to himself, closing his eyes and just living in the moment of having his boy back safe, alive, and no longer afraid. He massaged the back of Link’s neck, feeling the tension slowly drain out of the teenager, and as Link’s hiccups and sniffles settled into soft, relaxed breaths, Rusl felt the boy’s body melt into his arms in exhaustion. Giving him one last kiss on his head, Rusl gently laid Link back on the bed, tucking him in as he slept soundly.

With that heavy conversation finally addressed, Rusl felt simultaneously light and so, so drained. He watched Link sleep for a while, his mind buzzing with different thoughts.

Link had been trained by a legendary hero? Probably the same one who had wielded that sword, right? How did that work? And he could turn into a wolf as well? Was this part of the hero package or something, being able to turn into a beast?

Did that mean Link was doomed to haunt the land for centuries until the next hero came around?

Rusl swallowed thickly, his heart aching as he watched his boy’s soft face. He stood abruptly, filled with anxiety, and stepped out of the room.

He didn’t really know what any of this meant, but he could at least try to sort it out and move on to more practical things. Rusl was fascinated by the world around him, but he wasn’t going to get lost in hypotheticals.

Heading for the sacred spring at the edge of the village, Rusl knelt in the water, listening to it lap against the shore absentmindedly. He felt too tired to come up with words, but the single desire of protect him, don’t let him have such a terrible fate repeated in his mind and heart and soul as he closed his eyes and bowed his head in prayerful petition to whoever might be listening.

He couldn't change the fate of a hero, the destiny laid out by the goddesses, but he could still pray for mercy.

“Rusl, are you alright?”

Renado’s deep voice caught Rusl unawares, and he jumped a little. Turning, the swordsman saw the healer standing at the edge of the spring a few paces from his home. He watched Rusl observantly, mild concern furrowing his brow.

Standing, Rusl sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. “It’s been a long few days.”

“I imagine so,” Renado said sympathetically with a small smile. “Your son will be alright. I believe he’ll be fit to return with you to your home tomorrow. Colin will no doubt be pleased to see him.”

Rusl wanted to smile warmly at the remark, but he couldn’t quite do so. He was eternally grateful to Renado for watching out for his son and the other village children, and he was happy at the thought that Link would be healthy enough to return to Ordon tomorrow. But… the thought of explanations that would have to be made upon returning also weighed on him.

At least he had Uli for support, and she would be so relieved to see Link well.

The smile finally came forth, and Rusl nodded. “Yes, he will be, as will his mother. Thank you so very much for all of your help, Renado.”

The healer tipped his head with grace. “It is always a pleasure to help others.”

The pair spoke for a short while as the sun started to dip towards the horizon when Rusl heard Epona whinny excitedly. Turning, he headed for the area close to the graveyard where she had been grazing and found a teenager who very much should be in bed petting her and smiling.

Rusl sighed heavily, an old exasperation bubbling up inside of him. “Link.”

Link jumped, startled, and then smiled again. “Hi, Pa. I just wanted to see her. I bet she was worried.”

Approaching the pair, Rusl reached out and let Epona sniff his hand, and the horse nibbled it tentatively in expectance of a treat. He looked Link over and was relieved and pleased to see that he wasn’t quite as pale as he’d been, though he was still a good few shades lighter than his usual tan complexion. Link held himself steady, though he was leaning on Epona for support.

“I know,” Link immediately said before Rusl could get a word in. “I need to rest. But… but we can go home, right? I can handle the ride back to Ordon, I promise.”

Rusl watched him worriedly. “Link, not tonight. Why are you in a hurry?”

Link bit his lip. “It’s… I know Ma is alone and caring for Colin and Hana, and I… I don’t wanna be the reason you can’t be with her and help her and she—”

“Link,” Rusl interrupted firmly. “You are the priority right now. It’s okay that we’ll be gone one more day. Uli understands, and she wants to see you come back well, not passed out from exhaustion.”

Brushing hair out of the boy’s face, Rusl softened his tone. “It’s okay to rest.”

Link leaned into the touch, looking a little sad and put out, but also clearly still desperate for reassurance from Rusl that everything was okay between them. The sight broke his heart anew, and he pulled the teenager into a hug.

This was going to take a while to recover.

Rubbing the boy’s back, Rusl whispered, “Come on, let’s get back to bed. We can have some pumpkin soup and you can tell me all about your adventure.”

Link nuzzled into the hold, swaying in Rusl’s arms, clearly sleepy. “Pumpkin soup…?”

The light hint of excitement, blanketed in sleepy slurred words, made Rusl chuckle. “Yes, pumpkin soup. Come on, son.”

The pair walked together back to the inn, bathed in twilight, and for once, Rusl was not overwhelmed with the usual sadness that accompanied it.

#for the record I'm going to do a long post about a story called Deserving by Crimson Ravioli #because it's another Wolf Link reveal fic and it is so so so amazing #much better than mine #and deserves all the love #and it has a Scene that is literal Perfection and I was trying not to just recreate it but couldn't help it because it's literally Perfect #like the dialogue and just everything about it is perfect #and now I feel like I'm copying ugh >_< #so yes I will spill all my love for Deserving later when I have more energy and time #but ANYWAY #writing #wolf link reveal fic #secrets of the shadows #twilight princess #twilight princess link #tp link #legend of zelda #this chapter was fighting me a bit so hopefully it turned out okay #I wanted to wrap this story up in three chapters but there's too much to resolve with the mess I made LOL #but we're on the comfort side of the spectrum now so there's that

[acircusfullofdemons]

🗡🏆 HUNGER GAMES SIMULATOR 🏆🗡

INTRO

Because of the posts by @maddgical-boy [link] & @nevermore-grimes [link], I will now be subjecting my paras to the Horrors. I have a lloottttt of paras, so to make this simply I used a random number generator to select the new victims tributes.

I will also be adding commentary on how accurate this would be to my paras. Because I can’t have fun without criticizing their every decision, despite forcing them to make those decisions in the first place. Bullying my paras is a full time job and brother, I just clocked in >:3

TRIBUTES

District 1: Edward Nixon [Mad as a Crow: Missing Piece of the Puzzle], Lucy Fisher [Phantasmagoria: DreamSet Circus]

District 2: Loyd Nixon [Mad as a Crow: Missing Piece of the Puzzle], Benjamin Graves [Mad as a Crow]

District 3: Marzipan Velveteen [Fractured Fables: Illusions of Life], Neil O’Brian [Mad as a Crow: A Plague of Octopuses]

District 4: Beelzebub Honeyblood [Phantasmagoria: Crossfire], Reign Blanc [Fractured Fables: Illusions of Life]

District 5: Phineas Glazier [Fractured Fables: Illusions of Life], Luciana Potenza [Phantasmagoria]

District 6: Phoebe Sparks [Phantasmagoria: ElectroGear Software], Prism Raymond [Phantasmagoria: DreamSet Circus]

District 7: Thackery Velveteen [Phantasmagoria: Illusions of Life], Rosemary Velveteen [Fractured Fables: She Trusts me, He Loves Me Not]

District 8: Victor West [Mad as a Crow], CaterpillarOS [Fractured Fables: Illusions of Life]

District 9: Mary Crowley [Mad as a Crow], Ketrill Hyde [Phantasmagoria: As the World Falls Down]

District 10: Khole Banner [Mad as a Crow: Assembled Monsters], Alex Grimm [Fractured Fables]

District 11: Stacy Collins [Mad as a Crow], Orion Guerrero [Mad as a Crow]

District 12: Vincent Hyde [Phantasmagoria], Lucien Jekyll [Phantasmagoria]

BLOODBATH

Yknow what i just realized. CaterpillarOS is, uh, a giant robot caterpillar. Khole is a weird mix of species but yeah there’s no way he’d win that fight. 

Aint no fucking way Neil would loose to a blind girl. She has the power of accuracy but is smaller and younger than Neil. He’d rip her to shreds!!

HOW DID PHINEAS SET KETRILL ON FIRE LMAO

DAY 01

I like to think she read him, ironically, one of the brother’s grimms books. It’d be so funny for various reasons. 

NNOOO MARY 😭 say goodbye to our only licensed nurse everyone…

uuuuhhh something something phineas in the wrong paracosm. insert joke about d//c or para!jervis here.

Interesting team up! No idea why Eddie would work with Loyd since that’s his father and they hate each other. Same with Stacy, she hates Eddie bc that’s her dad. I fully believe Prism and Lucy are being held captive here, folks.

Accurate !!! sorry rosemary BUT ALSO. WOW. I CANNOT OVERSTATE HOW ACCURATE THIS IS OH MY GOD??? GIRL HOW DID YOU LIVE OUT YOUR TALE ALL THE WAY OUT HERE IM SCREAMING. also wow accurate for Neil too. Killing another innocent child, I see. At least this one’s intentional!

Our fallen tributes are: CaterpillarOS, Ketrill Hyde, Mary Crowley, Rosemary Glazier.

NIGHT 01

Bee! Don’t kill the bunny!! But fair lol

Debating on if Neil would keep a victim alive. I think for a little bit, for the psychological torment. He always liked to play with his food. 

That is a VERY tense truce lmao, Stacy hates basically everyone Eddie is associated with, which includes the Crowley Family bc ooo boy, that family is a Certified Mess.

Luce 🤝 Phineas: ripped away from their home at a young age thanks to a random dimension portal. Not the same case here but wow I never noticed that. 

DAY 02

Nothing interesting to note.

Our fallen tributes are: Marzipan Velveteen, Phineas Glazier

NIGHT 02

Khole winning is just…perfect. All 3 have to do with experimentation (Khole & Neil are from the same lab/facility/organization, actually!) but Khole was made first, both in a story context and meta context. So. yeah. Older Sibling Rights.

TWIN TEAM UP HELL YEAH!!!!

Either Orion or Eddie is winning those ghost stories bc Orion knew Aurelia, and she worshiped the god of fear, while Eddie knows Jonathan, Aurelia’s descendant and uses fear in his villain schemes. Then again, Bee is literally a demon, so….

YAY STACY!!! sorry loyd just…sucks lmao fuck outta here

DAY 03

Nothing interesting to note.

ARENA EVENT

Our fallen tributes are: Victor West, Neil O’Brian, Loyd Nixon, Reign Blanc, Orion Guerrero, Luciana Potenza, Khole Banner, Vincent Hyde, Thackery Velveteen. Only 9 people left!

Nothing of interest to note for NIGHT 03.

THE FEAST happens, aka The Cornucopia is refilled.

Nothing interesting to note for DAY 04 & NIGHT 04.

Our fallen tributes are: Benjamin Graves, Lucien Jekyll.

Nothing interesting to note for DAY 05 & NIGHT 05.

DAY 06: Eddie dies by accidentally drinking his own poison. Get wrecked, idiot.

NIGHT 06: Prism bashes Alex’s head in. Get his ass!!

Nothing interesting to note for DAY 07, NIGHT 07, & DAY 08.

NIGHT 08: Stacy poisons Prism. Lucy dies from thirst.

Stacy wins!! Wow. Fucking lame as shit I don’t even like her. Wish she stayed wherever the fuck she was before moving to Prism Pulse. Whatever! Realistically speaking she would’ve been killed way back at that random family reunion thing. Yes, by Eddie. he would’ve killed his own daughter. what of it.

#paraportal #luka.txt #dlc: hunger games #system: eternal labyrinth #console: phantasmagoria #console: mad as a crow #console: fractured fables #sorry i kinda lost steam / got bored lmaoaoo #it is funny to me that they only lasted 8 days. like yeah. that checks out.