#Twig seeing straight through the excuses

[sincerely-sofie]

I was going to write this idea as a story, but my mind keeps flatlining every time I try to coherently make it. I still wanted to share the idea, so here’s a snippet that pretty much summarizes it:

TW: child abuse, neglect

•••

“Mother, is Boulders Quarry dangerous?”

“Pokémon can handle it if they’re prepared and experienced enough,” Twig hums, stirring the stir fry on the stove, “but those are with Pokémon who are trained, and it can still be dangerous even for them. It’s not a dungeon that me or your dad would let you go to for a very long time — not until you’re adult or close to it.”

She hears shattering behind her, and Twig quickly turns around. Opal’s plate, once holding in apple slices and strawberries, is in pieces. The ceramic remains decorate the floor, some stained by bruised fruits and the juices left behind. Twig’s mouth opens, ready to ask if Opal’s okay and warn her about stepping on the sharp pieces, but the words that mean to come out die as she looks at her daughter. Opal’s eyes are wide and slowly become teary. Her body trembles, evidently the cause of the broken plate rather than her potentially tripping. Her stare never leaves Twig, her mouth quivering as words try to come out but never do.

“Opal?” As soon as her name leaves Twig’s mouth, the Marshadow begins to cry. Fat tears roll down her cheeks, only getting heavier when Twig rushes to her side and brings her into an embrace. “Opal, what’s-?”

“I have a friend-” Opal chokes on her words, trying to push through an invisible blockade in her throat. “She- she says that her big sister and brother try to leave her in dungeons by herself to ‘toughen up’ and that they were going to take her to Boulders Quarry today. She doesn’t like fighting — she usually hides when they try, and I can always find her, I haven’t been able to find her- she- I don’t- I wanted to say- she said they’ll run away and take her if anyone knew, and she didn’t want to go away — but now she’s not here, but her big brother and sister are- and- and-!”

Between her blood running cold and her burning organs, Twig manages soft words that she thinks are comforting by the way Opal’s cries calm down, but the Charmeleon can’t hear them. Ark comes into the room, concerned words leaving, but Twig doesn’t hear them. She gently puts Opal into his arms and she thinks that she mentions an emergency, but it all blurs after that. Now she walks out of Boulders Quarry, a quivering, shaking child curled up in her arms. She is careful not to aggravate old wounds that couldn’t have come from the recent the recent dungeon. The familiar excuses are desperately made by the kid, but Twig knows.

“I just got lost.”

“I got this because I fell — I fall a lot.”

“I’m okay, I’m fine. Don’t tell auntie my big brother and sister. I can go by myself.”

Twig knows and, internally, she seethes.

•••

It’s not my best and everyone is probably ooc, but I hope it’s still somewhat enjoyable. Sorry if it isn’t tho!

"Not my best," they say. "I hope it's still somewhat enjoyable," they say. Meanwhile I am holding this fic in my teeth like a rabid dog and shaking it (appreciative) and biting it (adoring) and eating it (complimentary).

I don't have many words to share because I've just been reeling at how good this is ever since it was sent in, but I can't wait to see any more of your work, especially of this concept!

#Twig seeing straight through the excuses #looking at this kid and saying #“I know you're lying.” #the kid starts to panic and tries to make better excuses but Twig stops them and says it's okay and asks if a sleepover w/ Opal sounds fun #flash forward however long it takes for Twig to track down the siblings and when she does #she's a vision of rage and vengeance and fear and guilt and everything a little child who's gone through things no child should feels #those siblings are going to jail #i'm not even sure if their area has a local prison or a judicial system but they're going to ask to be locked up for their own safety #that lizard is going to kill them if they don't have some concrete walls between them and her in the next ten minutes #sorry to hijack the fic you sent in it just got me like (head in my hands head in my hands head in my hands) #the present is a gift fanart #the present is a gift au #shadow baby au #pokémon mystery dungeon #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd explorers #pmd sky #pmd eos #pmd2 #pmd #sofie answers asks

[bellaofthevalley]

Stellaron Hunters: Singing Dove

Content warning: yandere themes, polyamorous relationship, reader is gender-neutral.

It starts with a chase. 

It always starts with a chase. 

You run through the cold, deep snow. Dried leaves and twigs hiding under the snowy blanket crunch beneath your boots, and the little cracking noises they cause makes you want to cry painful, heaving sobs that shake through your frame. 

The moon hangs high in the sky, your singular source of light. You are so deep within this frozen wasteland, not even Belebog's lights show on the horizon. 

A perfect place for them to hunt you. But hunt truly is too kind of a word; a prey has at least a singular, sliver chance of survival. You are merely a toy between their clutches, ever so often placed in a new playground for their amusement, but at the end- 

You will be back with them. It is, after all, part of the script. Always, always, always- 

You stumble and fall on your hands and knees with a painful gasp, foot catching within viney branches that dig into your boots and pants. You'd been running so much, for so long, you hadn't even realised just how out of breath your poor lungs were. 

In, and out. In, and out. In, and out.

You take in one, last big breath before finally looking back to get your foot out of the vines and hopefully, with the mercy of Qlipoth the Preservation and any Aeon that will listen, escape from this hellhole- 

Only to meet two red piercing eyes staring at you from such darkness, not even the moon could disperse it. Peering, watching, waiting. 

"No!" The frightened scream tears itself out of your throat, and your lack of breath and aching foot are forgotten entirely. In the distance, among the flying crows and skittering spiders, you heard the tinkling laugh of a woman.

Everything is dangerous. Everything is dangerous. Everything is dangerous-

He tells you everything is dangerous as he sharpens a sword, cracks going through its cold blade like broken glass. His voice is low, but his eyes are staring straight at you. Gazing, scrutinizing, waiting. 

How many days, weeks, and months have you spent with them now? With him? You know his past by now, something he'd confided in you in the lonely, dead hours of the night, where you craved interaction even from someone like him. When he would crave interaction from you, would seek you out and hoard your time with the excuse that Kafka demanded he needed you to heal him and soothe his mara-struck mind with your singing, nimble fingers unwillingly going through his hair. 

Everything is dangerous, Bǎo bèi. You will stay here with us.

She tells you everything is dangerous without telling you. You are on her lap, so shamefully naked and exposed yet she lounges against the tub as if the world is her oyster to pick, hands on your waist and nails slightly dragging against your skin until there are raised goosebumps trailing up your body. 

It might as well be her world to rule. 

You will not leave, my darling. She says with the softest laugh, burying her pretty face in your tender throat and kissing your skin. Her perfume still clings to her skin, leaving your mind hazy and muddled- all thoughts of your burning homeland they took you from washing away until all you can think of is her, her, her. She's a devil and a devil hunter; she is a spider that has spun into a web you can see neither the start nor end of, demands your songs as if you, your songs and voice all belong to her. 

Everything is dangerous, my lovely. You will not leave, not now nor ever.

You run and run, boots so torn every twig and rock digs into your delicate skin. You are crying, too, stumbling against trees and branches. The noise that comes out of your throat is half-sob, half-prayer. Mercy, oh Aeon, grant me mercy. 

You speed past the forest. It does not matter where you are, only that you leave. There are so many snapping noises, but all of it is from your running so you- you are sure you are safe- 

No more trees, and the lights from Belebog now shine like the very stars of hope. So close now, and freedom tastes so unbelievably sweet on your tongue. You reach a hand out- 

And fall down again, staring up at the star-less sky with wide eyes and a frantic heart. 

No twig or branch made you fall. 

Spider webs did. 

The moon is so beautiful.

"The moon is so beautiful, isn't it, my darling?" 

Kafka looks down on you, kneeling down by your side. Her pretty eyes gleam in the encroaching darkness, mouth stretched into a small smile that is anything but kind. 

Yet her touch is so very gentle when she cups your face, wipes away the lone tear trickling down your cheek. She is even gentler when she leans down to kiss the corner of your lips, this time tasting your second tear. 

It makes her sigh, so awfully fond. The spider web clings to your body, crawling up your limbs. You are unaware of Blade slowly coming out of the woods, your focus entirely on Kafka. 

"You tried your very best," she croons, voice low and soft. Her smile widens, thumb swiping across your chapped lips, smoothing out the furrowed lines between your brows. "But it wasn't enough, was it? It will never be enough, either. But, oh, how beautiful you looked as you ran and ran, so fully convinced you even had a small chance of success… like a frightened rabbit. Isn't that right, Bladie?" 

Blade's silence is unsurprising, and you are glad for it as you finally descend into sobs, turning your head away from her even as her hand chases your face. All of it… was just an illusion? All of it? 

"Carry them, Bladie." Kafka orders, chuckling. She plays with your hair for a few seconds, humming before she kisses you, kisses under your lashes, one last time and gets up. "Carry them home, where they belong." 

 It ends with you back in their arms. 

It always ends with you back in their arms. 

Masterlist.

#bella.posts #honkai star rail #blade honkai #kafka honkai #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai #blade x reader #yandere blade #yandere blade x reader #kafka x reader #yandere kafka x reader #yandere kafka

[terrence-silver]

Imagining high school sweetheart!beloved and Terry getting married before he gets shipped off to war and Beloved always sending letters to Terry while he’s away

Bonus: Terry comes back home after the war and finds Beloved’s unsent letters to him that were written when he was M.I.A. and sees how worried she was about him

---

I feel nobody would believe Twig is married because he's, well...Twig!

He's so young! So shy! So wide eyed! Scrawny! The idea of Privates infinitely more experienced and worldly than him only just being in the stage of sharing correspondence back home with their respective sweethearts and go-steady girlfriends while this kid here is already legally married is straight out of the Twilight Zone for most of his fellow soldiers who immediately wrote him off as a sore loser, perhaps with the rare exception of John Kreese who stands up for him and defends him when he's teased and called a liar who just about invented a full-blown Missus for himself to seem cool and less of a wimp in the eyes of everyone else, the letters he receives from beloved deemed fabricated one way or another even though they're actually entirely legitimate, the parcels bearing the seal of the military mail, arriving the same as everyone else's packages do.

''Did your momma write those?''

Someone might cruelly jest right before Kreese gives them a look, telling them to step off.

Gets slightly worse during POW captivity. All the members of Twig's platoon are in the same mess but it doesn't prevent in-fighting and the day-to-day cruelty and microaggressions from continuing even inside of a cage when validly, once communications are entirely cut off and they're trapped deep in enemy territory, there is no way for beloved's letters or anyone's as for that matter to come in and circulate, and the soldiers and even Twig's own Commanding Officer Turner never let him forget that like he's somehow to blame (And in their mind's eye, he is. They feel he's got them all captured through his negligence and incompetence. There will be payback for that. If the Vietcong don't do him in, his own will. For all Turner cares, Terry Silver got them here and pray to God, in the following weeks, he'll make this kid's life so difficult in this cage he'll wish the Vietcong ended him day one, bullet to the brain, same as Ponytail and what better way to utilize psychological warfare than to use the boy's own spouse against him the way he later tries with John and Betsy), finding it an apt pastime to pester one of their own even when facing death, torture and execution from the Vietcong that captured them. It's easier in a weird and very sick sense; poking and prodding at the weakest link in the hierarchy of things to better endure the gravity of the situation and just forget for a while.

You do some pretty awful things under duress.

''Guess the love letters stopped now, eh, Twig?'' Turner mocks.

''Momma back home ran out of ink?''

The older man laughs into his own chin as Twig scoots further back against the bamboo bars of their shared jail, missing beloved so badly he can feel the ache of it in his bones, loathing the fact he has no control of anything going on and John Kreese, witnessing the sight and having stood up for his friend countless times vows that one of these days, he's gonna give their Commanding Officer a piece of his mind even if he ends up court martialed for it after they're released seeing as how John can vouch that if the other soldiers are boneheads Captain Turner has enough intel on his own men to know for a fact Twig never lied and that he is in fact married back home. That beloved's real the same way his Betsy is real. Man has no excuse for the hell he's putting Twig through just because he can. John gets his chance to retaliate for the abuse a few weeks later once the Vietcong force them to fight over an open pit of snakes.

As for Twig?

Once they're rescued from the POW camp, he is finally reunited with the stack of letters beloved's been sending him back at base and it's like being reunited with a missing limb. When he gets home, beloved gives him a package of unsent mail just around the time he was captured and gone missing. Everything he's been made fun of entirely real and genuine; not one word of it a lie or made up. Everything right there, in black and white, written down with beloved's own pen. Every bit of concern. Fear. Care. Of course, it only serves to turn him a little more...well...Terry Silver as we know him. No point in being truthful if he won't be believed anyway, even when he is. Might as well fabricated. Might as well manipulate. Everyone who ever laughed at him died. And he's here. He survived. He is loved. He's won. And he'll keep winning and winning.

He hugs the stack of letters and beloved close to his chest with a vice grip.

The first seeds of something very dark have long been sown.

#high school sweetheart!beloved #terry silver #terry silver twig #twig terry silver #tw; vietnam #tw; soldiers #tw; military life #letters #tw; pow captivity #tw; vietnam war #john kreese #captain george turner #captain turner #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #fluff #dark fluff #angst #ponytail

[moonswolfie]

Dinner time

timeskip!Osamu x gn!reader

Warnings: Reader is skinny, (past) verbal abuse, ED (?)

This is very self-indulgent and I haven't been diagnosed with an ED but my relationship with food can be seen as ED-like so I put the warning there

I was in an Osamu mood so I decided to write a sweet little story for him ahahasshahsah this man ≧ ﹏ ≦ (please excuse my horrible attempt at giving Osamu the accent)

Being married to Osamu was great. He treated you well, was an entertaining person and you got hooked up with the latest sibling drama straight from him.

But the one part that always bothers you is mealtime. Osamu is a great cook, which isn't surprising since he owns a restaurant and you love his food.

This would be great if Osamu wouldn't dote on you through his food so much. He always gave you the biggest servings to make sure you were well-fed and happy. It was his way of showing he loves and cares about you.

Your stomach couldn't handle large servings of food, it never could, even since childhood. Your parents always made fun of you and told you that you eat like a little baby, so you were scared he would make fun of you too if you told him.

So you tried your hardest to eat as much as you could every time, even if you weren't hungry at all or even if you felt like throwing up after. You ate even if you didn't have an appetite.

But it was worth it, seeing him smile happily while you were eating his food.

It was time for dinner again, something you grew to dread more and more.

You see, Osamu thought you enjoyed eating such big portions since you always finished them so fast when in reality you were trying to get it over with as quick as possible. So he thought he would make then even bigger.

You knew he just wanted to see you happy and that it made him very happy seeing you eat his food but you couldn't handle it anymore.

"Come here, darlin'. I cooked yer favourite." Osamu invited you to sit with him. You tried your best to hide your discomfort as you sat down across from him.

Looking at your plate, you already felt nauseous. He really did cook your favourite, but the amount...

You couldn't bring yourself to do it anymore. You ate slowly, and eventually stopped, just picking at your food to give the illusion of eating.

Osamu seemed to notice pretty quick, since his usual smile wasn't there. "What's wrong? Why aren't ya eatin'?" he asked, concerned.

"Samu, I can't do this anymore." you put down the chopsticks, looking at him with worry. He seemed taken aback and confused by the sudden change of behaviour on your end.

"What are ya talkin' about?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Osamu, I've always had a really small appetite. I've never been able to handle big portions of food and I often feel sick after eating." you confessed, looking down at your plate. Now you're going to be made fun of, told you look like a twig, that you eat like a toddler. Maybe he'll tell you to stop being ridiculous and keep eating.

You closed your eyes in anticipation of whatever insult was going to be thrown your way.

"...Why didn't ya tell me that?" his question surprised you, opening your eyes to look at him. He looked concerned.

"I'm sorry it's just- You looked so happy when I ate all your food. I didn't want to let all the food you cook for me go to waste." you admitted, looking down at your plate again.

"So ya mean to tell me you've been forcin' yerself to eat all that food for months now." he crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. You shrunk under his gaze.

"Maybe... I'm so sorry for not telling you sooner, I-"

"What am I gonna do with ya? You gotta tell me these things, ya know?" he sighed, expression softening.

"...You're not mad?"

"Why would I be?" he looked at you as if you said something really ridiculous.

"My parents used to get mad at me when I didn't eat and called me a baby and a skeleton for eating so little." you didn't dare to look at him after you admitted that.

"Yer parents are assholes. Yer the one who knows yer body the best, I ain't gonna judge ya fer that." you couldn't stop the smile that crept up on your face. He was... okay with it?

"I'm just mad ya didn't tell me sooner. Now I feel bad for makin' you eat all that food." his eyebrows furrowed.

"No, don't feel bad. I was the one who didn't say anything and ate the food." you assured him with a relieved expression.

"Your food is amazing, I would just prefer if you gave me smaller portions from now on." you reached over the table to lightly grab one of his hands, squeezing it affectionately.

"I got ya. And by the way, yer body is beautiful." he said, squeezing your hand back.

#˗ˏˋ ★ ☁︎ 「Wolfie's works」 ☾ ★ ˎˊ˗ #self indulgence at its finest #haikyuu x you #haikyuu #haikyū!! #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! #miya osamu x reader #hq osamu #miya osamu #osamu x y/n #osamu fluff #osamu x reader #x reader #oneshot #angst to fluff #comfort

[yandere-kokeshi]

— Rely on us, it’s all you need

Pairing: Yandere Uzui Tengen x his wives x female-hashira! Reader

Summary: getting hurt on a mission, you get saved by a specific hashira who's a tad bit obsessed with you.

Warnings: yandere behavior, blood mention/description, demon mention/description(?), delusional states.

Author Note: There also may be some spelling mistakes, please excuse me.

“Come on, darlin', I know you have it within you,” Twigs and fast wind-speed snapped around you.

“Don't you dare fucking die on me, please.”

As you opened and closed your eyes, retrying to refocus your vision and the now-throbbing sharp-pain on the side of your head; the familiar scent of copper and rain came to you, causing you to gag quietly.

“Please. Fuck – I should've came with you, damn'it.”

Blood was dripping down steadily from your forehead and ears, as you moved to wipe it away; you groaned in pain, a type of pain that had electricity racing all through you.

“Hun! Fuck. Okay, keep your eyes open for me sweetheart. Please — shit.”

You heard it; smelled it really, the powerful smell of incense and the eeriness in his voice. You immediately knew who it was.

“U–zui...? I–”

“Don't waste your voice, fuck — we're close to the Butterfly Mansion. Don't you dare fucking shut your eyes, okay?”

All the energy you had was forced into a weak-like nod.

You barely remember using your breathing style to defeat a demon, yet you recall the painful cuts and electricity going through you; using all your strength to defeat the demon, yet it wasn't enough.

You swong your katana, using the rest of your energy; seeing the demon's head cut off along with a smirk on their face.

You remember thinking you won, that you dropped your katana in exhaustion; yet, a single red string grabbed you and threw you straight... what? A few meters away? You didn't remember nor did you want to.

It was a hard throw, breaking the tree in half behind you as painful agony went through you; specifically your back and ribs, sending your head to the ground; making your vision blurry and head bleeding from the trauma.

It let you think you won, and for some strange reason, you believed you had won.

Then you recall hearing the demon scream, a herd of angry yelling towards your name, then... Everything went black.

As the sharp and heavy drumming brings you out of your thoughts; you tried to look around you, yet, everything was a blur, seeing that around you was going very quickly; like you’re running in a flower field with no fear whatsoever.

You inhale loudly, trying to catch oxygen but your lungs burn. You clench your teeth and sluggishly nudge your head further into Uzui's neck in pain. Slowly, you find Uzui's eyes darting towards you and in front of him— light worries in his eyes, a type of worry that he showed many times with you, sometimes the anger he showed whenever he saw a single cut on your delicate skin.

Your brain told you he was nice, someone you could trust when you first came to the top of being a Hashira; yet, everytime you were around him, you felt goosebumps on your skin, feeling the need to escape like a prey from his maroon eyes that always stared into the back of your skull.

He, however, was always sweet — in some way, he always offered help; walking towards you while putting his hands on your shoulder to let you know he’s there to help you and that, a pretty woman like you, deserves to be pampered.

His wives… were different; not that it was bad, but it was a weird difference. They were almost — obsessed with you; inviting you over for meals, pampering you in the most expensive clothing, and offering you to stay the night at their house if it was too late to walk home.

It made you embarrassed, not receiving much as a kid, and still not used to it — even as an adult.

You did your best to never get along with them — seeing a type of look in their eyes that scared you, intimidated you; yet, as a Hashira, you five (5) would meet quite often. Uzui, he would always try to go on missions with you, stating that ‘you need someone, as flamboyant and strong like him–to protect you’. Many would be grateful to have the fastest Hashira to tag along with you, but you didn’t; you were annoyed and angry, not wanting to tag along with anyone, especially with Tengen.

Though, the more he saw how he annoyed you, the more his wives and he wanted to hang out with you, dragging you by your wrist with an iron grip along the ‘fun’ festivals that were planned or going out to eat.

However, his flirty behavior got the best of you; slowly falling for him, even though you knew he wouldn't fall for someone like you.

Yet—here he was, carrying you to help, losing his mind, while you were on the verge of death.

“Shit, sugar — listen, don't you dare close your eyes. please, I can't lose you — none of us can lose you.”

All you remember was the voice of Uzui yelling your name, the calming smell of incense when everything went black again and the painful headache that didn’t go away.

—

You woke up to a hell of a headache, along with the smell of wood, cleaned sheets, and the noise of bird chirping, along with small snores — that were somewhat comforting.

You blinked a few times, eyes straining in pain by the brightness and soreness. As you stare at the ceiling, the familiar scent of incense and extreme perfume was all around you; lingering around you like a snake.

Realizing that you were in the Recovery Room and surrounded by them, you go to sit up, but as expected: your body retracts in pain; immediately causing you to groan out loudly by the immediate pounding in your ribs.

Surely, you had broken some, if not shattered them.

Quickly shuffling was heard beside you, as you looked; you connected eyes with dear violet ones who were quick to fill with tears.

“Oh! Baby!” Hinatsuru wrapped her arms around you as she nudged her head towards your neck, almost crushing you.

As you look behind her, you see Suma and Makio slowly rising in shock and tears falling down from their eyes as well. However, Tengen was nowhere to be seen, causing your anxiety to spike.

“Ah! Cookie!!, we all thought you’d never wake up again!!” Suma cried, launching herself towards you and causing you to fall back whilst pushing out a loud ‘ouch’.

Makio, of course, started yelling at Suma while Hinatsuru tried to calm them both down but to no avail: they all just started getting louder and louder, causing your ears to ring and make your headache worse; all you could was listen to their yelling.

“Stupid!! You don’t run around and hug people who are hurt!”

“I’m sorry!! I-I… was—”

“Guys! Please. Stop yelling, your stressing them out,”

“Oh, shut it!—”

All the sudden, the sound of doors sliding open loudly was heard behind them.

As you and the others looked; you realized it was the ‘God’ himself: Uzui Tengen.

“Tengen!!��� Suma cried towards the tall man, running at him as a way to be protected by Makio.

As Suma and Tengen were hugging, he couldn’t stop looking at you; smiling proudly that his other wife is alive and awake.

Hina tried to hold your hand, which was quickly slapped away along with a scoff by you.

“H-how… long have I been out?” You asked bluntly, staring right at Tengen.

Hina looked at you with a puzzled look, before smiling softly, “You’ve been out for a week and a half, Tengen carried you here. Shinobu explained that you lost a pint of blood. You scared us… Pretty bad.” Hinatsuru explained.

Your eyes widened as you focused your gaze on Hina, trying to comprehend the loss of time.

Before you could speak, Tengen appears and gently pushes Hinatsuru out of the way; grasping both of your hands into his as his smile brightens more.

“Darling! I’m so glad you woke up dear,” He brightened, “Just like Hina said — you scared us pretty badly. Though, I have some very good news to tell you!” Tengen expressed into the air in a tone that would make anybody kneel before him.

You raised an eyebrow, “So what is it? And… Can you please let go of my hands?” You said as you felt your face grew uncomfortable.

Tengen’s face grew into a sly grin as his headpiece beads rested against his jawline; he dropped gently, letting go of your hands with a lingering iron grip.

“I spoke to the Head-Master, and explained what happened. He and I decided that it would be best for you to retire —” He expressed happily.

“What…?”

You looked at him stunned, everything stopped; static forming into your head as your ears grew louder than ever, focusing on your thoughts.

“Hey.”

All you could remember was how hard the training was, how weak you felt.

“Hon, look at me.”

Your instructor was a nice person, took you in when you were at your lowest and trained you to be as strong as a Hahsira; which you glady and happily obtained.

“Oi!”

Finally you shook out of it, staring right into his maroon’s eyes, with an unknown feeling. You started to tear up; feeling weak but angered. A type of anger you haven’t felt in a long time.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Hina asked stupidly, giving you a look of sympathy

“Why… why would you come up with that?” You demanded, voice growing louder. “Why did you think that was something I wanted?”

“Please don’t care hun, it’s for the best! Plus, you get to spend more time with us!” Tengen added, completely ignoring the fact that your fists were clenched tightly.

Tengen wipes your tears, gently caressing your cheeks “Don't worry — you’re gonna be safe with us, darling.”

All the girls nodded, Suma speaking up: “Don’t cry! We’re right here for you!”

Hinatsuru kneeled beside the bed, guiding her hand onto your chin as Tengen stood by, all of them really; observing you, like you were their prey.

You shook your head, feeling sick to your stomach. This was a sick joke, right? It had to be. You really wanted it to be.

“Aren’t you happy darl’? Come’on, we all know you love us,” Tengen looked at you, crouching down as he forced you to change your eyes towards him, “You’re not leaving us, or getting hurt again. You deserve to be pampered, we all love you.”

You widened at hearing his words, heartbeat quickly rising.

“A~nd, you won’t be needing this anymore,” He grabbed your katana, who was resting against the wall. All the girls smiled brightly as he nodded towards them.

He stood up, gently grabbing your forearm before you threw his hands off; you stood up and pointed your fingers towards his chest, like it was gonna change anything; maybe wishing this was a type of dream.

“This isn’t your choice! Please – Please tell me this is some type of joke—” You exclaimed; not wanting to feel weak again. He wasn’t listening to you, walking towards a cabinet, grabbing the medications he needed for whatever reason.

“You… can’t be ser–”

Makio grasped your shoulder, kissing your cheek while Hina and Suma all smiled gently, before nodding at Makio.

Tengen walked over, leaning over to tower you, intimating you. “I do this because I– we love you.”

Before you could argue back, you felt something nic in the back of your neck; causing you to pass out.

It didn’t matter anymore, Uzui made a promise to protect you and he was gonna keep that; whether he would have to use force.

—

Masterlist | Requests closed! (7/16/2022)

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#yandere blog #yandere #kokeshi!! #yandere male #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere tendencies #yandere anime #yandere kny #yandere kny x reader #yandere demon slayer #yandere demon slayer x reader #yandere kimetsu no yaiba x reader #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere uzui x reader #yandere uzui #yandere uzui tengen #yandere tengen uzui #yandere poly #yandere polyamorous #yandere hashira #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x curvy reader #yandere x afab reader #yandere x female reader #yandere sound hashira #yandere uzui x reader x wives #yandere pillar

[pasiphile]

Hi there! Twiddling my thumbs on how to/whether to say this, but finding your Sherlock fic as a teenager (yeah, we’ve both been here that long, I am now eyeing my thirties in the street) was incredibly formative.

TVD (and Good Girls Don’t) was one of the first brain-changingly good pieces of online fiction I had ever read, and it made the days I worked that soul-wearying first job a little brighter. Or a lot. You gave me imagination and a playground for exploring my own writing, which continues to be a primary joy in my life. So — these two words aren’t enough. Thank you. 🩵

So, on to the writing! I have to ask for a Mormor prompt. Maybe the boys enjoying each other after a long absence, bonus for domesticity?

(gosh. I occasionally get messages like this and I always have to stare at the wall for a bit. I wrote it at a rather shitty time for me too and it definitely helped me get through it, so the thought that I made - make!- other people feel the same way means A Lot. Thank you <3)

The flat feels empty. Too empty.

It’s strange. It never did before. An empty place all for himself had been a luxury for many years. And after that, a necessity, a way to relax, recharge.

Except now all of a sudden the silence is too silent, the order too neat, the spaces too big. It’s absurd, and annoying.

He leans his head forward against the window, looking down at the street below. So many people and yet there’s just one, just one out of seven billion, who feels like –

The door opens behind him and he straightens up. “I’m back!” Sebastian’s voice bellows through the living room.

“I can see that.”

Sebastian starts, only spotting him now, then grins. “And I’m sweating like a pig. Manchester to London on public transport and let me tell you, those trains are not equipped to deal with thirty-five degrees Celsius, so if you’ll excuse me I’ll head straight for the shower.”

And before Jim can even think to react, mind and action sluggish in a way that’s totally inexcusable, Sebastian has dropped his bag and he strides past, already taking off his stained T-shirt and leaving behind a waft of deodorant and sweat and stale cigarettes, disgusting except it isn’t.

“Pick up your dirty laundry, you’re not a teenager,” Jim says, more on automatic than out of conscious thought, but Sebastian obediently doubles back to pick the shirt up, no comment.

The bathroom door closes. A moment later, the sound of the shower.

When did this happen? When he’d invited Sebastian to live with him? Before that, the first time he’d let him into the flat? When did he start to fill the spaces Jim hadn’t even been aware were empty?

He goes to the bathroom and slips in, quietly even though it’s futile to Sebastian with his SAS-instincts.

The dirty clothes are obediently in the hamper, tidied away. The steam smells of soap, not his, all alien and all familiar.

The shower switches off and Sebastian steps out. He grins, again, and spreads his arms as if to present the goods. “Did you miss me, then?”

“Yes.”

Sebastian’s smile slips. It’s too open, too bare, they don’t do this sort of thing, Jim doesn’t do this sort of thing.

“Of course I miss a loud, stinking oaf of a man dirtying up my flat,” Jim adds, and Sebastian relaxes, never mind that it’s actually true. “And you? Pining for home?”

“The moment I stepped out of the door.” Sebastian shrugs and turns to the mirror, absently running a hand through his hair. “You know me, I’m sappy that way.”

Jim grabs Sebastian’s arm and yanks him around, other hand finding his throat and slamming him against the wall, or rather, Sebastian lets him do all that because as always the balance is in his favour, Sebastian could break him like a twig if he wanted to.

But he doesn’t. That’s the point.

“Missed you too,” Sebastian says, voice slightly constricted through the chokehold. “This, especially. Now can you calm the fuck down?”

Jim loosens his grip, breathes out. “You know I should have you killed.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, calmly. “But you don’t. Do you?”

“No.” He leans in, nose against Sebastian’s throat, nothing there left now but the scent of soap, the one Jim got him a month ago because he was tired of Sebastian smelling like a locker room full of teenaged boys.”

“All right. Now that’s out of the way, can we  nghk “

Jim gets his teeth from Sebastian’s neck and leans back, smiling beatifically while his other hand keeps a new chokehold on Sebastian’s cock. “Yes?”

Sebastian gasps for air, then smirks, so wide it threatens to split his face. “Whatever you want.”

That’s the point.

Jim returns the smirk, then lets go and without even needing prompting, Sebastian goes to his knees.

#Sherlock #mormor #well those are tags that feel like they time-travelled from ten years in the past #anyway #once again written in one go; unedited #and probably not as sweet as asked for #but hey #this isn't my only sherlock prompt so who knows #tiny tumblr ficlet tag #i'm writing stuff!

[the-teapot-hatter]

No bc imagine like MC using one of those gigantic lily pads instead of a small boat (bc boats are expensive) to fish and fucking Jack just sees this human fishing on a giant lily pad. Bonus points if they wear like put the flower on their head as like a hat or smth for “camouflage” LMAOO

Jack has seen a lot of strange things as a part of the Navy. For obvious reasons. Not only would they sometimes be pulled away to suit the position of regular guardsmen, but they would frequently go out with Sailers and deal with pirates.

But even with all of the strange things that Jack has seen, this is by far one of the strangest. To the point, all Jack could think was 'what the hell--'

Sitting on a giant lily bad, paddling out with some twig from a fallen branch, was the strange little human that he's been seeing around recently. Stranger yet, they were wearing the flower from the lily pad on top of their head, with a completely straight look on their face, unmoving.

'Do they think they're blending in or something!?' Jack didn't know what to think. Being left with complete disbelief, though this was far from the first time. Their first meeting, if it could even be called that, also left Jack completely speechless.

Then there was the fact that they were fishing, something they weren't supposed to be doing and was definitely illegal. Jack understands not being able to pay the expensive prices in the market for seafood, however a license is needed for a reason.

People who get licenses have to go through a handful of procedures and background checks, not only to make sure they are as safe as they possibly can be, but to make sure they don't have any affiliations with pirates.

Actually, it could be said that it was to avoid situations like this, because attempting to fish on a giant lily pad certainly wasn't the correct way to go about things.

Just as Jack was about to shout out for them, so they'd come back to shore and give him some other strange and out there excuse like all the other times before, they suddenly wildly jerked around and attempted to stab the water with their stick.

(Not entirely surprising either. One needed a license to buy proper fishing material, but this was ridiculous.)

Unsurprisingly, such an action caused them to tumble into the water. Jack sighed to himself, waiting for them to remerge at any given moment. Only, that's not what happened.

Instead, what he say was wildly flailing arms in the water, and a series of suspicious bubbles. They were drowning. This is why a license is needed. So it can be checked if you can actually swim.

Appalled, and a bit amused, by their stupidity, Jack jumped into the water in a hurry. He didn't appreciate them breaking the law (he had absolutely no right to judge), but he wasn't going to let them die because they were doing whatever it was that they were doing.

When Jack finally did manage to reach them, he was kicked, punched, whacked at (with both stick and fish). He was partially convinced they were trying to take him down with them.

"I'm trying to help you! Hold still!!" Jack snapped, only for them to turn on him with the most offended look, completely unwarranted since he was helping them, and shout--

"I'm a single parent with a child to feed and three guests to host. You won't take me alive!!" Before promptly whacking him with their fish, that they miraculously caught. Is this how Leona felt when he first met them?

"You? What? No, just hold still!" Jack argued, struggling to get a hold of them as they kept slipping away. To add insult to injury, when they finally seemed to be accepting his help, they used him as a stepping stool to get back to the giant lily pad.

Then began paddling away as quickly as possible.

Jack watched, amazed by the sheer absurdity of it all. He could easily catch up to them, but he had never actually been planning on arresting them. So, he watched on to make sure they didn't nearly drown again, where they watched him with a weary glare. Running off once they were on dry land.

Hours later, he was asked a question he hadn't been expecting.

"Howl, why do you have a flower on your head?" One of his other fellow Navy officers asked. He reached up, patting his head, surprised to feel something off.

He grabbed the offended material, pulling it down to reveal a flower. The very same flower the utter idiot had been wearing earlier today. How humiliating.

However, if not for the flower, he was sure he would think it was nothing more than one big fever dream.

#disney twst wonderland #twst wonderland x reader #twst wonderland #disney twst #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #jack howl x reader #off script au #gender neutral reader

[anne-chloe]

Underground | II |

Jareth/Goblin King x F! Reader

Summary : You begin your journey into the Labyrinth, and you almost lose your footing.

"How do I get in?"

You grumbled to yourself, pacing up and down the wall that prevented you from entering the labyrinth. You'd been searching for a way in for at least 15 minutes, and by now you were despairing in frustration. How were you supposed to complete the labyrinth and save Harry if you couldn't even get in?

Is this what the Goblin King meant by his labyrinth being complicated?

You stopped, huffing loudly while setting your hands firmly to your hips. You stared at the wall ahead, practically glaring. There must be an entrance that you just weren't seeing. Maybe it blended in with the wall, it was camouflaged and that's why you couldn't find it so easily. It would make sense, seeing as how it guarded the castle.

You were never very good at puzzles, or mazes actually. You were kidding yourself when you'd said you had completed mazes before. You'd never gone through a maze by yourself, and there were always workers scattered throughout to offer help to those that needed it.

You highly doubted that there would be guides within the labyrinth offering support.

A noise caught your attention. You lowered your hands and turned to the side, now staring at a creature from behind. A fairy, it looked like; a small thing, giggling and fluttering around in a small patch of flowers that was dusted with glitter. It seemed as though everything had a sparkle to it. It made the labyrinth seem less dangerous than it obviously was. A false sense of security.

"Excuse me?" You timidly asked, now approaching the fairy with exceeding caution, afraid that you'd frighten it off. It stopped messing with the flowers and turned to look at you, now falling quiet with curiosity. You crouched down and held out your hand, watching in childish delight as it perched itself into your palm. "Hi," you whispered happily, "I'm looking for the entrance to the labyrinth. Do you happen to know the way in?"

The fairy nodded eagerly, and pointed to the spot directly where you had been originally looking. You stood and turned, gasping in surprise as a large, gated door appeared where the wall used to be. You moved towards it as they slowly opened with a creak, and a ball of fog rolled out.

You looked down at the fairy and beamed. "Thank you for your help." You watched as the fairy hovered above your hand, a squeak leaving her mouth as her tiny hand waved, reflecting your delight. Then, she fluttered away, returning back to the flowers that you had found her in.

You stared into the foggy entrance, nose crinkling at the lack of vision. You began walking in, immediately spotting that the path either led left or right. You hummed in thought, wondering which way would be best to take. And staring down them, you couldn't see a visible turn or curve in either direction, leaving you with little ways to weigh out the pros and cons. Instead, you covered your eyes and decided to spin in a circle, and whichever way you stopped would be the way you'd go.

To the right.

You shrugged, feeling indifferent and set off walking. The fog began to fade out, and the sun beamed down from the sky. You stepped over roots embedded into the ground, and ducked under twigs that poked out from the walls. You kept your hand trailing on the wall, your eyes fixated ahead.

Another 15 minutes passed with you walking utterly straight. And soon you started to frown deeply at the lack of turnings and twists. There weren't any dead ends, and the pathway just seemed to continue onwards no matter what. You paused in the middle of the labyrinth, taking a moment to scan your surroundings in hopes that you'd missed any clues or signs. But no, there was nothing but glitter sparkling under the sunshine, and twigs that stuck out and often caught your hair.

"This is..." hard. You didn't want to admit it out loud, for the fear that the Goblin King would hear you. You didn't want to admit defeat so early on, not when Harry was depending on you.

God, you felt incredibly guilty for wishing him away. It had simply been a heat of the moment phrase; you didn't realise the consequences behind it. If you'd have known about its power, you would never have spoken those words. But, a part of you whispered cruelly that he deserved it; he had cheated, after all, and he even admitted that he'd known this woman for months before being caught. Your bottom lip quivered and your eyes threatened to produce tears again; how long would he have continued if you hadn't have caught him?

You hoped the goblins were poking fun at him for only wearing a bedsheet and nothing more. You hoped they'd tear it away from him and run wild around the castle, taunting him for his nakedness. You hoped he was sulking, reflecting back on everything he had done to cause you pain; you hoped he was wishing he'd never met you.

You shook your head, ridding yourself of those thoughts. You needed to focus on solving the labyrinth. If you continued to think about Harry and everything that had happened, you wouldn't make any progress. You could think about him later when you were in a better place to do so.

"'Allo."

You tensed at the voice. Glancing around, you felt your skin crawl at seeing nobody there. You blinked, weirded out.

"Down here!"

You tilted your head down, eyes scanning the floor, and finally, the wall. It was a worm. Wearing a scarf and a hat. You stared in surprise, having expected something else other than a worm. Perhaps a bird of sorts that could speak, or maybe another fairy as kind as the one you met at the entrance.

"Oh..." you muttered, lowering yourself again so you could speak with the worm a little better. It was strange, talking to creatures like this. You pushed aside the oddness of it all, and tried to remain focused on asking the correct questions. "I don't suppose you know the way through this labyrinth?"

The worm shook its head. You sighed in disappointment, having expected such an answer but feeling frustration nonetheless. "Nah, I'm just a worm. Would you like to meet the missus?"

You blinked at the worm, holding back a laugh. It had never crossed your mind before that worms might have relationships too, albeit not as complicated as a humans would be. "Uh, no thank you," you replied, smiling at the idea of making friends with a worm and its partner. "I'm on a bit of a tight schedule. Is there any particular reason as to why there's no turnings?"

The worm tilted its head. "No turnings?" It repeated, astounded by this information. "No, you're mistaken. There's a turning right in front of us!"

Alarmed, you looked over your shoulder and stared at the wall. You couldn't see an entrance anywhere. It was just a normal wall. You looked back at the worm, feeling slightly betrayed that it would shatter your hopes like that. "There isn't," you corrected, "it's just a wall."

"You're not looking close enough!" The worm insisted, nodding its head towards the wall.

You furrowed your brows together and stood up. Carefully, you held your hands out in front of you and took steady steps forwards. As you neared the wall, you expected your palms to come into contact with the cool stone, but instead you walked beyond it. You gasped in delight, pleased that the worm hadn't been messing with you and was correct.

"Oh, thank you!" You beamed brightly. Again, you were left with the choice of going left or right. You eyed both pathways in deep consideration. Well, hadn't you gone right the first time? You resolved yourself to go left, just to switch up the directions you were taking.

"Don't go that way!"

You stepped back, startled by the worms warning. "What... why?" You asked, now wearily looking down the path you had almost taken. Were there horrible creatures lurking down there? Traps and tricks that would only hinder your journey? If so, you were thankful that the worm had stopped you from advancing any further.

The worm shook its head. "Never go that way." Is all it said, and the grim look on its face only confirmed your suspicions. Dangerous creatures. The Goblin King had warned you that his labyrinth was dangerous and complicated, and so far he hadn't lied to you, and neither had this worm.

Grateful for the correction, you thanked the worm again and bid your goodbyes.

You continued onwards, pleased that you were starting to finally make some decent progress in the labyrinth. You were beginning to worry that you weren't smart enough to solve it; perhaps you weren't smart enough, considering you had acquired the help of a fairy and a worm to guide you. Nevertheless, didn't that make you smart for asking? Surely that made you resilient in your own way.

You hummed a gentle tune as you walked on, now spotting the gaps in the wall that the worm had pointed out. You were met with a few dead ends, and a few twists that confused your whereabouts, but you soon found yourself out of the beginnings and in the very middle. You grinned, feeling exceedingly proud.

Take that, you thought smugly. It's not that complicated once you know what to look out for.

You again found yourself in a section of the labyrinth that seemed almost dedicated to twists and turns. You walked up steps and found yourself stuck, and you'd turn back around and walk into another dead end. You tried not to let your frustration grow. You glanced in the direction of the castle, keeping it in your sights and pushing forwards, taking the paths that pointed in its direction.

And as you walked, you found your mind wander in to the popular production of Aladdin. It was sold out on every night, and you were forever grateful to have been cast as Princess Jasmine. You hummed along to the tune of Arabian Nights, finding that the song was bringing you confidence and comfort as you continued to navigate through endless dead ends and false paths.

A few words you found yourself singing aloud, your voice echoing around the silent labyrinth.

"Oh, the music that plays as you move through a maze, in the haze of your pure delight."

You stepped over a stone block that stood jagged out of the ground. You headed down some steps, your fingers mindlessly brushing against the stone walls that seemed so randomly placed, but you knew they were thought of with meticulous care.

"You are caught in a dance, you are lost in a trance, of another Arabian night—"

You froze, eyes widening slightly as you assessed your newest challenge.

A drop in the floor. You peered over the edge, your shoe catching a stone and kicking it forwards. Down the stone went, and you watched in a grimace as it continued onwards, its end not making a single sound. You glanced over, noting how the other side was too far to jump across. You ran your fingers through your hair, knowing you'd need something to assist getting you across.

You scarcely looked around, finding nothing but other stones in sight. None of them were nearly big enough to block the drop. You frowned.

It's not like you could turn back and find another direction to go. You needed to go through this part, because slightly in the distance you could see the beginnings of a healthy green hedge, meaning you were definitely on the right pathway. This was something put in place as a challenge, something to slow down your progress.

You could always run and jump and pray that you'd make it, but you shook your head at the stupid, desperate thought. You'd land yourself to certain death, or a life threatening injury. You couldn't risk hurting yourself when you needed to find Harry. And if you were stuck down there, what use would you be? None.

You thoughts flashed to the Goblin King, who would surely be monitoring you. You wondered if he was impressed with how far and fast you'd come. Was he watching intently? Did he admire your ability to march onwards without giving up?

You huffed out a short laugh. Are you stupid? Surely the Goblin King wouldn't be engrossed in whatever you were doing. He must be busy ruling over his subjects, possibly creating plans for how he'd fit Harry under his rule. He probably didn't care much about your progress at all.

You began searching the nearby area for anything that would help you across. Then, you stumbled upon a large slab of stone. You grinned and tucked your fingers underneath, using all your strength to lift it up and drag it across the floor. It scraped loudly, its weight protesting to your determination. You grunted and puffed for air, feeling your hands and shoulders ache.

You had to pause several times to take a break. You frowned down at your scuffed fingertips, noting how red and raw they were looking from gripping a stone slab like that. But you continued on with your plan, determined to have it work as a bridge of sorts.

Once you reached the drop again, you began pushing the stone slab rather than pulling. It just about touched the other side before you ran out of stone to push, meaning it would work but would possibly be unstable. You wiped the sweat from your brow and gently placed your foot on the edge, testing it before throwing your entire body weight into it.

And so you began walking across. You held out your arms for balance. You refused to look down at the drop, and you instead focused on your feet. One foot in front of the other. Carefully creeping over to the other side.

A slight noise caught your attention. You paused, risking the chance to look up. A crystal ball rolled down the stone path, heading a steady pace in your direction. You blinked curiously at the sight, wondering where it had come from and why it appeared without a single blemish.

Then, the crystal ball stopped and it made a tiny tink as it gently bumped into the stone slab you were standing on. Your chest tightened in panic, and suddenly the stone slipped off the edge. You cried out and launched yourself forwards, fingers barely grabbing the ledge and holding you securely in place. You whimpered, feet dangling as the stone slab vanished bellow, noiseless and endless as it continued to plummet, just like the stone you had kicked.

Your fingers burned with the pressure of holding you up. You cringed, desperate to pull yourself up yet lacking the strength to do so. You tried, arms shaking as it hoisted your weight, your head poking over the top. You gasped, managing to tuck your arm on top of the ledge, securing you a lot better than your fingers had.

The crystal ball remained just a few inches from the ledge. You glared at it, practically hearing the Goblin King laugh at your misfortune. How could you possibly think he wasn't watching? He must be dearly entertained by this entire situation. He must have cackled when you screamed in fright. How cruel.

Finally, you gave one last pull and managed to roll onto the ledge. You awkwardly caught your arm on a jagged stone sticking upwards, tearing the skin on your forearm. A streak of blood trickled down, and you hissed at the sudden pain. Looking on the bright side, a cut on your arm was better than plunging endlessly to your death.

After catching your breath and allowing your heart rate to settle, you reached over and snatched the crystal ball from the floor. You eyed it suspiciously in your hands, wondering if something would happen. But nothing did. It was useless. You scoffed loudly, hoping that, if the Goblin King was still watching, he'd hear your displeasure for nearly getting you killed.

You stuffed the crystal ball into your pocket and shakily stood up, now heading towards the pathway with the luscious green hedges rather than jagged stone walls.

While you hoped it would be easier to navigate, you had a trembling feeling that this wasn't the last time that the Goblin King would interfere with your journey.

#fan fiction #the labyrinth #labyrinth 1986 #Jareth #the goblin king #goblins #goblin king #labyrinth #x reader #female reader #fantasy #romance #singing #fairies #fae #faeries #adventure #Jareth x reader

[multifandomfanfic]

A Friend Of Your Sister

gif by: @bridgertonland

Summary: You’ve harbored a crush on Colin Bridgerton for years. Eloise doesn’t accept that.

Warnings: angst

Word Count: ~1k

A/N: Guess who hasn't finished the first season of Bridgerton but watched the second? Me. So, this is takes place along with the events of the second season (except that Penelope isn’t in love with Colin). Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“Is he not wonderful?” you asked your sister, Penelope. You were sprawled across one of the couches in the Bridgertons’ drawing room. None of the Bridgerton men or mothers were present to nit-pick your every move, so the tree of you were truly relaxing. Eloise was meticulously scanning through the latest Lady Whistledown paper while Penelope sat perfectly upright next to her, probably paranoid one of the aforementioned groups would appear in the room. Pen nodded in agreement.

“He is rather good-looking as well,” she added. She carefully lifted a cup of tea off of the table next to her and took a sip. 

“Can you not gush over my brother in my presence?” Eloise snapped, setting down the pamphlet. Unsuccessful this time in the never-ending quest to find Lady Whistledown’s true identity. She continued speaking as someone else entered the room, “Besides, he is completely incompetent and awkward, among other traits.”

"Who are we discussing?” an all too familiar voice asked. You immediately corrected your posture, sitting upright and looking straight forward. Penelope giggled at your discontent.

Of course, the voice belonged to the one who you were talking about: Colin Bridgerton. He was wearing a dark blue coat-jacket that matched the light yellow shirt underneath it. His collar wasn’t folded properly and his hair bounced freely as he walked towards your couch.

Pink coloring painted your cheeks. You quickly looked down at your lap. Even if he was a little aloof, as Eloise thought, Penelope was right in saying Colin Bridgerton was handsome. Not to mention he was also one of the kindest, most charming men you knew. 

“Well?” he said when no one answered him. Eloise looked in your direction and raised an eyebrow. You shot her a nasty look in return.

“We were talking about the new Lord Featherington,” Penelope swiftly replied before Colin could notice Eloise and you exchanging glares.

“Oh! How is he? I heard he was in the gemstone business.”

“He’s doing well,” you piped up, briefly breaking eye contact with Eloise, “Lord Featherington says his mines are successful and he has supported us quite well.”

Colin smiled at you, causing butterflies in your stomach. You could have melted, but you stayed as stiff as a twig underneath the watchful eyes of Eloise. Her eyes burned holes in the back of your head, almost daring you to speak again. You refused.

“I am glad to hear it,” Colin responded. He then turned his attention towards Penelope and Lord Featherington’s business endeavors.

Penelope and Colin’s rather uninteresting conversation dragged on for ages. Eloise hardly participated, but you tried to look as fascinated as possible, mostly to not seem bored at something that piqued Colin’s interest. Gemstones dazzled the others, but it nearly put you to sleep.

Several times during the conversation, out of the corner of your eye, you swore you could see Colin sneaking glances in your direction several times. They were fleeting, and maybe he was looking at something behind you, but something in his stares were warm and wanting. Like he wanted to be closer to you, with you, but couldn’t.

Eventually, you realized the time and stood. Mother would be wanting you home soon as you had to help her shop. Penelope, on the other hand, was encouraged to stay at the Bridgertons’ as long as she liked. Colin also rose and excused himself from the conversation, offering to walk you out of the house and call your carriage. Eloise’s eyes followed you as you walked a little faster than usual to the door separating the entrance and the drawing room.

“Thank you for spending the afternoon with us,” he said once the drawing room door closed with a bang. The grand staircase towered over the both of you, as did the massive paintings of the Bridgerton siblings. The one of the brothers barely did Colin justice.

“It was my pleasure,” you replied, looking up into his blue irises. Colin’s smile finally succeeded in melting you in place. You met his gaze. His eyes were warm, friendly, welcoming.. longing. Something about the deep blue called you to lean closer to him. Your breath hitched in your throat. The dark pink blush across your checks returned and only grew hotter with each passing moment.

“Wait-,” you said, resting your hand on Colin’s chest, “I am a friend of your sister. This isn’t right.”

“Why is it wrong?” Colin replied, taking your hands in his and leaning even closer, “Why should Eloise have any say in our choices?

You blushed and nodded. He was right. Eloise could grow to accept your relationship (if it even lasted!). If only you could convince her.

Yet, it was too good to be true. Colin’s eyes drifted down to your lips and he seemed to be centimeters from touching your face but, before anything could come of it, footsteps sounded past the drawing room door.

Eloise appeared behind the now-open door almost as soon as the first footsteps were heard. Penelope was visible behind her after apparently failing to keep her seated. Eloise looked unusually livid. She stared daggers at the two of you, but mostly you. Her face grew red for the opposite reason that yours was.

She knew what she was interrupting. She knew what she had now ruined for you.

“Hello, Eloise,” you smiled politely, swiftly moving away from Colin, the pink slowly disappearing from your cheeks. Your stomach dropped. There was no recovering from this.

“I thought Lady Featherington requested you return home, Y/N,” Eloise said.

“Well- um, I don’t think my mother needs me that urgently.”

“Perhaps you should leave just in case,” Eloise replied snidely, “Those flowered dresses can’t buy themselves, can’t they?”

#colin bridgerton #Colin Bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #Colin Bridgerton x y/n #Colin Bridgerton x you #Bridgerton #penelope featherington #eloise bridgerton #x reader #imagine #Bridgerton imagine #Colin Bridgerton imagine #x y/n #x yn #fanfic #fluff #angst #Colin bridgerton fluff #Colin bridgerton angst #Bridgerton angst #bridgerton fluff

[charleslee-valentine]

Remember my trans Drayton fic?

Well now it’s got a prequel!

dedicating this to @lavenderbones13 who inspired me to pick this back up!

______

Word count: 3,332

Ship(s): Lefton (Drayton Sawyer x Boude “Lefty” Enright)

Warnings: period typical (1930s/40s) transphobia and homophobia, implied child abuse, alcohol use, very mild sexual themes, pregnancy.

—————

Lefty can tell his love has a secret.

It started with the fighting. Every advance for intimacy, for gentleness, for a moment to just be in love like they used to, turns into a screaming match. One sided at that.

From the bottom of his heart, Lefty could never fight with his sweetheart of nearly five years. A few more and they’d be getting married, raising kids in their own little corner of the Texas dry lands.

Not at this rate, and that’s Lefty’s biggest fear.

They need to talk about this, before things get out of control. He can’t lose his chance at love like this. Nothing has ever made his heart feel so simultaneously full and fragile.

Come tomorrow, he’s going to bring a ring, and he’s going to beg to fix whatever has gone wrong.

~~~~~

His name is Drayton. He’s not some fucking pretty little girlfriend, baby-makin’ machine. He’s a man, and he demands to be referred to as such.

Drayton had practiced it in his head countless times. Lefty called, said he wanted to see ‘his lover’ again, getting Mama’s blessing to take him out and everything. Would be nice to scare him out his fancy boots, showing up with his hair cut off and his chest pressed flat, but Drayton has hopes using words can get by this time.

He trusts his Lefty. Goddamn it, he does, despite the fear in his bitter heart, and the warning sirens going off in his own mind. Sure he’s pushing Lefty away some, but….

No. No more lies and excuses. Drayton’s going to act his age, act like the goddamn man he is, and face this little problem head on.

And he’ll bring his gun in the truck just in case things go south.

Picking lead outta bodies before preppin’ them ain’t easy, but it’s what he’ll have to do if he’s gonna be hurt, whether he likes that reality or not.

~~~~~

Lefty brought flowers, brought the ring, brought a bottle of the good wine and glasses, even a quilt to lay on the grass. Good old fashioned pic-a-nic under the stars to win his baby back.

All he needs now is-

“My love.”

He’s a little breathless with want when he finally sees his beloved. It’s been too long. His heart can’t take much more distance.

“Enright.”

That can’t be good. On last name terms again.

His honey only calls him Enright when somethin’s real wrong.

He’s gotta try to play his cards, gently holding the hands of the love of his life, “Would you come out with me tonight? I miss you.”

The gruff, but tender answer he gets is very much appreciated, “Got nothin’ better to do… thought you’d never ask.”

~~~~~

Halfway through the night, Drayton just bursts, like a beaver dam under far too much pressure. Except it’s his heart snapping into pieces, not no twigs. Only took two glasses full of wine before he was hugging the entire bottle to his chest to take swigs occasionally, crying his eyes out and pissing his dignity down the drain.

Lefty rubs his back, but it ain’t enough to soothe him. Drayton sobs, “Yer gonna leave me. Yer gonna think I’m fuckin’ crazy.”

Another big drink straight from the bottle. He’s never held his alcohol well. Probably already a good bit tipsy.

For his part, Lefty’s reassurance doesn’t falter, promising, “I’d never. Cross my heart.”

“And the rest?” Drayton asks for more, selfishly, hoping to extinguish the pain in his heart.

“Hope to die and everything, honey.” Lefty cooperates, only to give Drayton’s cheek a gentle kiss, and beg real quietly, “Jus’ tell me what’s wrong, lover. We can fix it.”

Something about that choice of words makes a crack in his soul. Ignites a deep insecurity inside himself nobody quite knows of.

“No. No, I’m not broken, Boude. There’s no fixin’ to be done”

“Alright. Well can I at least know the problem I’m dealin’ with, so’s I know how to address it?” Lefty patiently prompts.

Drayton drinks half of what’s left in the bottle in one swig. Popping off it, he shakes his head, terrified, unable to drown this unease, “I…. Boude- I cant-“

“Take your time. Breathe, partner.” Lefty soothes again, pulling Drayton softly back to lean into his chest.

He strokes his arms, like he’s trying to warm him up, and maybe he is. Maybe this is Draytons final act before his heart gives out from all these emotions and he goes dead cold. Nah. His heart’s still beating too fast for that. Drayton gains the courage to speak, “You said you’d stick with me through anythin’.”

“That I did.”

“Would that include if I changed my name?”

A pause. “What’s wrong with E-“

“Stop. I’m not done.” Drayton interrupts, so tired of that old way of referring to him, that he explains all at once, “I don’t want to just change my name. I want to change my clothes too. And my hair. And my body. And the way you call me. I-I want to change.. my sex, Boude. I ain’t no woman.”

“Could you.. explain that?” Lefty prompts. Drayton starts to pull away, he’s scared that Lefty’s question is a trap, a way to make him detail every emotional detail he has. But Lefty holds him close through it, “No honey I just, I don’t know what you mean. Please..”

So Drayton takes one more drink, and just lets the floodgates go, rambling on, “It’s not like I understand it much. It’s some curse. Like I was.. born all mixed up or somethin’. My soul must’ve swapped with somebody else’s. Maybe one of Mama’s stillborns-“

“You don’t feel like yourself?” Lefty tries.

Now he’s starting to get frustrated, walking someone else through what he already knows, “What the hell do you think? Drayton is a man’s name, and Drayton is me!”

“Honey. Drayton. You do understand that, what you’re fixin’ to do-“

“Is liable to get me killed. Of course I know! But if that’s what’s gonna happen then goddammit just finish me off now.”

“You know I would never.” Lefty sounds real stern, a little hurt he’d even suggest it. Clearing up that confusion comes from his long-winded declaration next, “My love. Remember when you told me, you didn’t like your weight, or your frizzy hair, or your crooked teeth? That you wasn’t good enough for me?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Drayton mumbles sourly, turning to finally face Lefty instead of leaning his back against him.

Warm, blue eyes stare right back into his own. Intense and vulnerable and just plain loving. Drayton has to look down.

“That I told you I’m connected with your soul. Your body, sure I love it, and I love you, but it’s not up to me. Our love was written in the creation of this very universe. God meant us to be together. No matter what form you take. Drayton Sawyer.” Lefty sounds a lot like his preacher father talking that way, ranting at him. That’s a sign of how seriously he feels.

Somehow his confidence allows Drayton to let all his heart-achin’ show, “I can't go through with it.”

“I’ll help you, darlin-“ Lefty starts, but he’s cut off.

Drayton’s voice wobbles with his tears and the burn of alcohol, “Don’t you understand? If I’m a man, and I start lookin’ like one, we can’t be together!”

“On our own time, we can be. Nobody has to know. To the public, we’ll be friends still, but-“

“Boude. I can’t ask that of you. You’re always.. always kissin’ on me, holding my hands. Hiding your affection, it’s not-“

Lefty cups his face. Resumes the eye contact, starin’ into his eyes in a way that’s bordering on manic.

“Not going to break us. Never. Nothing can get in our way, you hear me?”

Drayton nods softly, sniffling to stop the tears that wanna fall, “But-“

“No more. I wanna help you. We’ll get you sorted and lookin’ yourself more like Drayton, yeah?” Lefty tries to cheer him up.

Drayton has a realization instead, color draining out of his face, “My mama’s gonna kill me.“

It’s not likely, but there was always the chance. Mama Sawyer done a lot of good by her son, and a lot of bad too. Namely, kicking him out a few times to have the house to herself and her ever-changing beau, forcing him to work since childhood. The woman didn’t want a child, she wanted a maid. But she could be kind when she needed to be. Sure, she’d hurt him, but she’d never abandon him, never do away with his life.

Lefty’s opinion of the woman is as low as low. His tone is barely subdued anger, “As if she’ll even notice. That woman is colder than hell frozen over. Never pays you enough mind, never has.”

“That’s my mother you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” Drayton warns softly. No matter how much he agrees, it’s never easy to hear that somebody from the outside can tell things ain’t happy-go-lucky.

It’s probably Lefty’s determination, as evidenced by his dedication to arguing this, “Exactly. And she’s never ought been a mother to ya.”

That gets Drayton a little defensive, “Funny. It’s your parents we’ll be hidin’ from. It’s mama told me I could bring home man or woman, so long as there’d be no love child sprung.”

Meanwhile, Lefty’s parents are the ones who sat the couple down and threatened to not let them see one another if they suspected them of pre-marital scex. They’re the folks that made Drayton kneel and pray at their hearth for God’s approval to date their child.

As much as Lefty can’t stand Mama Sawyer, Drayton can’t stand the Enright parents neither.

Apparently, Lefty agrees, “So they’re both shit. That leaves just us. Just you and me, Drayton.”

Huh. How about that.

Drayton finally puts down the bottle, realizing there’s no more than a sip or two left. His face is flushed, an unholy combination of alcohol and affection. The only thing warmer than his skin is a fond flame burning right in the center of his chest.

“You can stop sayin’ my name so much.” He attempts to get some space from the big feelings.

Lefty showers him in compliments instead, because of course he does, “I like it. It suits you. Better than E-“

Drayton puts a stop to that. “Well if you’re so damn obsessed, the old one dies, alright? No more calling me by that name.”

“Alright.” Lefty agrees, until he thinks of some extenuating circumstance, “Not even-“

“No. Never. If you goin’ through with all this, you’re gonna take me as is. And that ain’t her. She’s gone, Enright. You hear?” Drayton hides the quiver is his voice, by dropping it a pitch or two. It’ll help to have that skill later on anyhow.

“Yes sir.”

“Good.”

“Can I kiss-“

Drayton interrupts his twiddling about. No more words for now. No more questions especially. He’s sick of words. He wants feelings.

The kiss ain’t some dainty thing. Drayton cups Lefty’s face and guides him as close as two bodies can press, lips connected all the while. They’ve never made as much contact as here now, laying under the stars, all tangled up, kissing as deep and as furious as the bounds of their love.

Guilt is what stops it. Not only over the sinful (clothed. painfully modest) touching. Lefty looks blank-faced as he pulls back with another realization, “Drayton. Man ain’t supposed to lie with another man-“

Drayton throws his head back in frustration with it all, “Oh, hush. Man ain’t supposed to lie with nobody til he’s married. What’s it matter ‘til then? So long as you ain’t tryin’ to get hitched, we're square.”

The air sorta freezes up. Lefty shifts away, sitting them both up, “Well, actually…”

“Boude, you weren’t-“ Drayton looks furious. Don’t feel it.

Lefty thinks it’s best to just get it out there before he can start to regret, “I was… In a moment of desperation I… thought it’d be a good idea. I thought it might rekindle things and I… I love you. So I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

Except there’s one glaring problem now that Drayton is about to be outwardly himself, “It won’t be legal.”

“I know. I know that. I’ll put it away.” Lefty says, with the demeanor of a scorned child. Embarrassed. Cute.

Now, Drayton ain’t exactly eager to be legally bound to anybody, but he don’t like the way he can feel the hurt coming from his boy. He thinks of some distraction,

“What gem?”

“Hm?”

“What’s the stone?”

Lefty eyes him wearily, trying to interpret the meaning of his question, “A tiger’s eye. It’s for good luck.”

“That’s not.. too frilly. I-I wouldn’t mind-“ Drayton can feel his face has gone beet red.

Worth it for the way Lefty lights up. He produces the tiny crushed velvet box again,

“You wanna wear it?”

“Strictly for purpose of holding you accountable.” Drayton lies.

He wants to wear cause it’ll feel nice. Serve as a reminder that he’s wanted at least somewhere in the world. Not that it’ll be easy. That reminder gonna be noticed by somebody else soon enough.

And then they’ll be in for a world of trouble.

“Here, my love.” Lefty offers it up, when Drayton reaches for the ring insisting on putting it in for him. Two fingers down from where an actual wedding band would go. A promise ring. “I sized it from.. the little ring you gave me. Well actually, you left it over once, but-“

Drayton isn’t listening. He’s staring, fascinated, at the square cut stone inlaid in thin braided silver. “I’m keepin’ this. You realize that.”

“Yessir.” Lefty just chuckles at him.

Makes Drayton suddenly feel vulnerable, like Lefty’s got some kind of power over him he should know about, “And you’re alright with it? Bein’ promised to a.. a-“

A gentle hand on both his arms, Lefty stops him there, “Don’t say whatever you’re about to say. It wa’nt gonna be nice. I don’t want you talkin’ that way.”

“I’ll talk as I please.”

“It’ll be hard enough without you bein’ against your own self. Don’t do that. If I love you, and you love yourself, and you love me, then we can’t go wrong.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Lefty sighs, frustrated with his stubbornness after dealing with it so much, and rubs at his eyes, “Drayton.”

“What?” Drayton asks too quickly. Here it comes lord. Everything before now was the calm before the storm.

Except, he should know better. Lefty was getting irritated with the arguin’, sure, but all he’s got to inform him of is “Nothin’. I just like sayin’ it.”

Drayton huffs, the tiniest hint of playfulness showing through after the innocent misunderstanding, “Well that’s enough. You’re wearing it out already.”

“Mhm.” Lefty hums.

Still close, Lefty presses a delicate kiss to Drayton’s forehead, noticing, with his hand placed in his hair, a pin holding the style up. Unexpectedly, he removes it, letting medium length waves, dark as the midnight sky, topple everywhere.

For Drayton, being seen with his hair down might as well be like going in public in just his britches or less. His face is probably doubly as bright red as before.

Lefty just wanted a look, a question on his mind, “How short you thinkin’?”

“I want it all off. Clipped short as you can get it without bein’ a flattop.” Drayton admits.

Lefty seems to consider it, maybe imagining what his partner will look like that way, before he affirms, “I can do that. How ‘bout a change of clothes too? The hair, I don’t think it’ll match this stuffy old dress, hm?”

Drayton vaguely motions to his chest, the very obvious difference between their shirt sizes in that area, “I won’t fit in your clothes.”

“Sure, not yet. We’ll figure somethin’ out though. You gotta give this time.” Something tells him Lefty ain’t just talking about chest tape. Definitely not when he says dreamily, “Afterall, we got all of it in the damn world.”

“If you’re trickin’ me-“ Drayton starts, eyes narrowed.

But Lefty is quicker, “I’m not. I love you, Drayton Sawyer.”

“Fine. But you’re not gettin’ no love ‘til I’m sure you mean it.” See, that’s partly a lie, because as soon as he says it he kisses him. What he really means is he’s not puttin’ out, which they already agreed upon, and that he’s too overwhelmed with all the other things goin’ on to say the words. Love. But he’ll show it, even if he can’t say it back. He’ll hold out his hand and comment, “‘Preciate the ring. Jus’ don’t make me mad or I’ll hock it in an instant.”

“You wouldn’t... Would ya?” Lefty eyes him skeptically.

Some reason, Drayton just howls with laughter, “Awh, hell no. You keepin’ me, ‘n I’m keepin’ this ring.”

“It suits you.”

“Hey. Wait ‘til you see it with the real me.”

“Sure, sure. But I gotta feeling I’m gonna like it either way.”

That boy is helplessly, head over heels, throw all common sense out the window in love.

Drayton teases him about it a bit, “Funny. I got that feelin’ too, lover boy.”

Lefty eventually takes him home to sleep off the alcohol around two or three in the morning, but sure as sin the next day they’re gettin’ Drayton gussied up to look like himself. The Enright’s bathroom’s a right mess, but it’s worth it, to see a genuine Drayton Sawyer smile. Showing buck-teeth and all, not some bashful little thing.

The fears they had was true. Once word got out, Ma and Pa Enright forbade, strictly outlawed, really, that the boys even see one another, unless it was for business. Trading meat and produce and such. Lucky for them, nobody ever caught on they was lying about how often those trading expeditions was needed.

That and nobody knew their spot. Follow the creek down from the watering hole long enough, and you’d find the far away clearing they’d had that date in. Every week, sometimes several times, they’d both sneak out of their respective homes and head out that way. But nobody never did follow. Moonlight as their guide, they were untouchable. For years they was.

Still no official wedding in sight, it’d be nearly twice the time since they got together come the end of that year. Almost a decade, they decided, was enough time that they might as well be unionized by somethin’.

The body, the the blood, the soul. Man lyin’ with man, and all that. Drayton would call it plainly what it is without reserve, but Lefty doesn’t have it in him to admit he’s planning a sin.

Especially with a man who at least is starting to be recognized as such now ‘at the Muerto County population’s shifting a little younger, a little less familiar with the person Drayton used to be. Neighborhood kids move away, families sell their farms, bosses die in equipment accidents, and suddenly every day isn’t quite as unsure, and the townsfolk are calling him by his chosen name.

Blame all that for the lapse in judgment that gets Drayton lyin’ on his back when Mama goes outta town, Grandpa gets called in, and suddenly they got the house to themselves.

“Slow your roll, cowboy. Jesus...”

“I-Is that s’posed to happen?”

“Alright, get the hell off and let me do this-“

How was either of them s’pose to know that one time was all it took! They was set up to fail!

Looking back now, as soon as it was over he thinks he knew. Paranoia or not, he’d felt somethin’ that night, and now goddamit he’s three months along. Half the time as Mama. A whole third of the way through.

Damn it all to hell.

They’re going to have a baby. Drayton’s gonna be sick-

#lefton #drayton sawyer #lefty enright #drayton sawyer x lefty Enright #lefty x drayton #my writing

[normal-thoughts-official]

Putting all my CoP II theories out there before we find out who the killer is tomorrow: a post

So I'm gonna start this by saying that I don't have a definitive theory I'm putting all my money on, this is more a collection of thoughts/leads/evidence as someone who's replayed every chapter as many times as it took to see what happened when you picked each option, and who's really invested in this

First things first: I'm not operating on the assumption that Juliana's killer is necessarily the same one who killed Nadja and Sebastyan, because we have no definitive proof of that and the more I think about it the more I think it makes more sense for them to be different people. I'm also including my theories on the whole Trystan trial thing, which they really should have looked into more deeply from the start to begin with, but anyway

1. Involved Siblings

At this point, I think it's pretty obvious that the only eligible suspects for either of the murders are Lydea, Vasili, Astrid, and the twins. The first three lied about their alibis, and the twins don't have one to begin with. All of them except for Lydea we know for a fact were in the palace by the time of Nadja's murder, and we have no idea where Lydea was. All of them, obviously, had access to the secret passage and the Thorne daggers; Astrid even has a convenient excuse for not having hers (she said she lost it in Tajikistan), but even if it isn't her, it is possible that she didn't lose her dagger but instead had it stolen by one of the other siblings, and doesn't know about it. In that case, I find it worth noting that Lydea is the only one who went out of her way to show that she still has her own dagger, and Vasili wouldn't have been expected to have one anyway; if he's the killer, using it might even be a good move to point the evidence away from him

Finally, we know for a fact that the first three were aware of the location of the cameras in the opera house, and, while we don't know for a fact that the twins do as well, we do know that Emika is perfectly capable of getting inside the surveillance system and get that information should they want to. Last but not least, those are the siblings we always have a chance of watching/asking about, which I think is worth noting. Finally, none of them save for the twins has been the object of a thorough investigation. Also, in the case of Juliana's murder, I think it's safe to say anyone younger than them would have been too young to have dated Juliana OR overpowered her so easily; Marguerite was a minor, and, while we're not sure Patryk was a minor, he was definitely built like a twig at the time, considering that he still is. Plus, by the time Juliana was a teenager, they were both definitely children

With that being said, I think it's safe to rule out the twins in general as well; Kaspar can't have been Nadja's murderer because we know that the murderer escaped through the secret passage, but Kaspar walked straight out of the room holding a bloody garrote like an idiot. He's also generally not smart enough to pull any of this off. And Emika does have an alibi, since we know that they were replying to randos on Twitter by the time of Nadja's murder. Not being Nadja's murderer rules out being Sebastyan's because those were definitely committed by the same person, and they have no motive to kill any of the people involved. I could maybe see Emika killing Juliana if Kaspar was the ex, because they are that insane (the incident with Astrid's ex shows that), but everything so far points to the killer and the ex being the same person. Also, if Kaspar had been Juliana's ex, Emika would never have given Trystan and MC the information about the letters, because it'd give them even more reason to suspect the two of them

That leaves Vasili, Lydea, and Astrid as elligible suspects. I'd like to point out, as a final comment, that Astrid and Vasili both knew that Juliana and Trystan were going to be on the boat the night she was murdered, and that they would be alone, something the killer would obviously have to know in order to kill Juliana. We don't know whether or not Lydea had that information but I don't think it'd have been too hard for her to get that info from the other two, especially considering that Vasili didn't even really want to cover for Trystan anyway and him and Lydea had a good relationship

2. Other possibilities

Other than the siblings, I see two other possibilities for people who could be involved: one of the monarchs, or a 10th sibling who's the illegitimate heir and going on a rampage about it, Veil of Secrets style

3. Juliana's murder

I think it's safe to rule out one of the monarchs being Juliana's ex, because what the fuck, and if the 10th sibling theory is real then Juliana wouldn't have known that whoever she was dating was a Thorne, since she didn't know who the illegitimate child was. That means Juliana's murderer was definitely one of the Three Elligible Siblings. Technically it could still be Sebastyan, but considering his "you've broken my heart every day of my life" line I think evidence points to him having pined desperately for her and not being requited

(Plus, killing her would have been a stupid move for the Act for Heir Equity since he needed her for public support, and the "he killed her out of anger for turning her back on the Act" theory doesn't really hold much water considering he was the one who wanted them to take a break. The e-mail Juliana sent him talking about Trystan also proves that he wasn't the ex, since it was just a few weeks after her angry letter to whoever it was that she hated so much; if the letter had been addressed to Sebastyan, why would she be trading happy e-mails with him gushing about her new love? We know for a fact that they were still on good terms by the time she was writing her ex angry letters; it wouldn't make sense for it to have been him

I see no reason whatsoever why Sebastyan couldn't have just stolen the locket from whoever the ex was because he is creepy about the women he likes [see: the sexy pictures of his ex in his goddamn office]. That would even give them extra motive to kill him, because if Sebastyan took the locket from them, it means he knew who the ex was)

So, we're back to where we begun: Lydea, Astrid, or Vasili. Here's the case for each of them being the ex:

Lydea: frankly, I can't see Lydea being the ex. The image of a jealous possessive person killing someone out of spite, stalking someone, and etc. does not fit her profile at all. Lydea keeps her temper in check no matter what and clearly has a pretty strong sense of honor and duty; and we know that that has been the case since she was a child. The only evidence in favor of Lydea I can think of is that the murderer was wearing the Drakovian Police cloak, but that's just a generic grey cloak anyway; and the fact that she recognized Juliana's locket so quickly, which strikes me as a bit odd for someone who didn't even know her that well, but it isn't exactly hard to believe that she recognized it simply because she's observant and saw Juliana a lot ever since they were kids. She is also too smart to have done such a shit job of burning her letters to her. All in all, she sounds like the least likely candidate

Vasili: the case for Vasili is a bit more substantial, but barely. It's pretty clear that Vasili has a lot more resentment towards Trystan than he lets on, and about his position in the family in general, which is why I think so many people are so deadset on BlameVasili2023. So I could see him being the kind of person who's a creepy bitter stalker without most people expecting it. But Juliana described her ex as being charming, and Vasili barely has any real presence; he seems more neutral than "charming" to me. He also just doesn't sound and act at all like the person we saw in that murder flashback. That means that we have two options here: either Vasili is secretly way more theatrical and sadistic than he lets on, and he's a master manipulator about it, in which case I think he would be able to keep his temper in check long enough to realize that killing Juliana would pretty much ruin any chance of getting the Act to pass; or he isn't all that calculating and good at holding back his temper, in which case I think we would have seen more signs of this incredibly possessive person

It's not impossible, however, especially considering that he knew where Trystan and Juliana would be, and had reasons to be particularly frustrated at her, not only for choosing Trystan but also for leaving Marguerite during her show. It would have been a pretty powerful combination: seeing Juliana with his own sibling, who is also the heir to a throne he will never get, and who is also leaving your little sister that you really care about in a moment that is important to her. Not to mention that she had taken a step back on getting the Act passed. The fact that Trystan is Marguerite's favorite despite all that is just rubbing salt to the wound, too. All in all, pretty decent motive, and we know his temper runs deeper than he lets on, even if he doesn't exactly fit Juliana's killer's profile. Considering his closeness to Bas, it also stands to reason that Bas would know about his relationship with Juliana through him, and resent him less for it than Trystan because he likes Vasili, at least. Vasili is also the only one I can think of that would make sense to say "but I finally found a way we can have everything we always wanted" to Juliana; if the plan had been to get rid of Trystan and get the Act to pass, that would make Vasili the heir, which I assume is something they fantasized about back when they were together. But killing Juliana got in the way of getting the Act to pass, and if Vasili was willing to kill to get it passed, why would he have sat on his ass and done nothing for 8 whole years after that, when the Act was tabled?

Astrid: I think Astrid is definitely the likeliest candidate out of the three. She fits the profile for the killer really well: seeming charming and nice at first (we know how good at manipulating she is, and she can seduce pretty much whoever she wants and definitely has a lot of friends), but really passionate and quick to anger. Trystan even said that the only thing Astrid likes more than falling in love is being angry, and she can definitely hold a grudge and seems vengeful. Juliana's murder was also very personal in general, not to mention theatrical; the bird whistle, the dramatic convo, the super personal murder method (blunt force trauma is pretty passionate, and we know they strangled her, too, which is pretty much the most intimate murder method there is), the relative sloppiness of it. This wasn't the perfect airtight murder plan Lydea would have come up with; so many things could have gone wrong, starting with Trystan waking up from all the drama. And it seems a bit too intense and not calculated enough for Vasili. But Astrid "tantrum" Thorne would definitely have murdered someone exactly how Juliana's murderer did. Plus, she also knew where Trystan and Juliana would be. The only point against her would be that it would have been a little less likely for Bas to know about their relationship, but she could have heard about it from Juliana herself, since they were friends. And I can't really see why she would choose that specific day to kill her, as opposed to any other time, but it could be related to the fact that Juliana was looking into the illegitimate heir. I also think it's worth noting that Astrid was the only one out of the three that had sent letters to Juliana when Trystan and MC went through the stack. Which sounded odd to me, since it was never mentioned that they were particularly close

4. Trystan's trial

I have no doubt in my mind that the one who sent the evidence to the Georgescus, bought off Trystan's lawyer, got the original audio of the "confession" edited, and etc etc etc was Queen Viktoria. We know it had to have been one of the monarchs, since in the book 1 bonus scene we see a Drakovian agent talking to a "Your Majesty" about framing Trystan. And Maksim has no motive whatsoever to want to get rid of Trystan, but boy, does Viktoria

Motive #1: we know for a fact that Queen Viktoria is the de factum leader of Drakovia. Maksim is barely there, and he was only even implied to have participated in official State matters on Trystan's first day back as heir. The whole rest of the time, it was Queen Viktoria and Queen Viktoria only who was calling the shots. She was even the one to preside Trystan's trial and announce Sebastyan's death despite the fact that he's not even her son. And we know from Eveline that Viktoria wanted to be Queen, which is why their arrangement works to begin with. So, Viktoria wants power. She wants to remain in control of the crown, which she will have to relinquish soon once Maksim turns 65. With Lydea as the heir, even if Viktoria handn't been the ruler by name she would definitely be the ruler in practice, because Lydea follows her every order without questioning. Lydea was her favorite, she was disciplined, she was obedient, she was a perfect fit. Trystan, in contrast, had always been a wild card and never seen eye to eye with Viktoria. And no matter what the official Thorne narrative about Trystan is, we know for a fact that Trystan cares. They do have a strong sense of responsibility - to Drakovia, to the people they love, to what they think is right, to people they barely know who got murdered and deserve justice. And we know their politics are progressive; they have talked about misogyny and social inequality and all the laws in Drakovia that they wanted to change, and I have no doubt that they care enough to go through with this. Trystan, as an heir, is Viktoria's worst nightmare, because they're disobedient and have the will and sense of responsibility to see through getting all the reforms Viktoria doesn't want to pass. There is nothing Viktoria wants more than to get rid of them and make sure Lydea inherits the throne instead

Motive #2: She has an illegitimate child. Duh. And we know from that bonus scene conversation that the main reason they wanted to get rid of Trystan is that they knew too much. I can't see anything important enough for Trystan to be able to discover other than Viktoria's illegitimate child. Considering how it is probably close to Juliana's murder, and Trystan was starting to revisit what happened then, it stands to reason that they would be worried about Trystan discovering who she was. Hence the need to neutralize them before Maksim had to relinquish the throne. Which can only mean one thing:

5. The illegitimate child

It has to be Lydea. It would make no sense otherwise

Viktoria has nearly no stakes in making sure no one knows Astrid is illegitimate. Who cares? Illegitimate children are already accepted in Drakovia, and Astrid is the third in line, so, barring Lydea's sudden death, she wouldn't even inherit the throne. And there's no way Viktoria would want her to. Astrid might be the only possible heir that would give Viktoria more grief than Trystan, because she has all the same qualities of being unpredictable and hard to control, without Trystan's sense of responsibility, which makes her harder to manipulate. Plus, she has ties to the mafia, which makes that particular power struggle much harder. If Astrid was the illegitimate child, I think Viktoria would probably shout it from the rooftops to make sure she never lives the nightmare of having Astrid inherit the throne, not go out of her way to make sure Trystan wouldn't be able to hypothetically look into it and find out about it

If it's Lydea, though? Viktoria is fucked. Lydea wouldn't be able to take the throne, which would leave either Trystan or Astrid. Unless the Act for Heir Equity passes, but if it does, Vasili will take the throne, not Lydea. And Vasili has no loyalty whatsoever to Viktoria; he's not even her son. Way I see it, Viktoria's most important interest at the moment is making sure Lydea inherits the throne; that means making sure no one finds out she's illegitimate and that the Act for Heir Equity doesn't pass. That's the only thing that gives her the motive to want to get rid of Trystan, and, possibly, to want to murder Nadja and Sebastyan

6. The current killer

If I'm right about Lydea being the illegitimate child, then what makes the most sense is for the killer to be under Viktoria's orders

I don't think Lydea would kill to make sure no one found out she was the illegitimate child; she doesn't even want the throne. And no one else has any stakes on making sure people don't find out about that. The existence of the illegitimate child has to be important, plot-wise. If it was simply about the Act, there would be no reason for that particular plotline. Plus, as pointed out relentlessly this week's chapter, the Act wasn't going to pass anyway. Whoever the killer is, stopping the Act alone can't be their only motive. But if this is about protecting the secret of the illegitimate heir? Then killing everyone connected to the Act, who also just so happen to have the means to find out about the illegitimate person, is killing two birds with one stone. Plus, Viktoria hates Sebastyan. She even calls him a "stain on the family" if you choose to tell her that she's grieving him. Were it not for the fact that we know from the flashback that Juliana was murdered by her ex, I'd even say that she probably killed all of them: Juliana to get rid of the Act for good, frame Trystan, get rid of a possible future queen with progressive politics, and stop her from looking further into the illegitimate child; Nadja and Sebastyan to make sure the following attempts to get the Act passed (and subsequent looking into the royal line like Juliana did) won't take off

Now. I find it unlikely that Viktoria would kill Nadja and Sebastyan herself, even if she is strong enough for it. If anything, because she can outsource that work, so why wouldn't she? And I don't think she'd want to risk being any closer to any of this than she needs to. Also, I don't think Sebastyan would turn his back to her. Which means she would need to get someone else to do it

I'd love for it to be Lydea, because that'd make a fantastic twist. The killer is the most obvious one, but for the complete opposite reasons than you'd think. It'd also explain Lydea wanting to hide the body, the identation from her ring on Sebastyan's neck (although, really, girl, take the stupid thing off), the remorseful act of placing Sebastyan in a more dignified pose, why Lydea lied about her alibi (twice), why Sebastyan would have turned his back to the killer, the strength and finesse the killer obviously possesses. With Nadja's murder, there was the sloppy attempt to frame Trystan, but there could be an easy explanation for that, which is that she didn't expect Kaspar to fucking show up to steal Trystan's shit. That'd mean she'd have to leave the scene before finishing the job of faking the stab wounds, leaving a sloppier job than usual

Buuut... That doesn't quite fit. For starters, if Viktoria had gotten Lydea to do the kills, why would she take Lydea off the investigation? It'd make much more sense to make her the investigator and lie about it. Plus, Lydea seemed genuinely surprised to see Sebastyan dead, and she seems genuinely invested in finding out who killed him. And if she had killed him under Viktoria's orders in order to protect the secret that she was the illegitimate heir, why would she tell Trystan and MC about the illegitimate child at all?

Even if Viktoria didn't tell her about that (which I don't think she would, because Lydea seems the type to immediately abdicate if she had known her claim wasn't legitimate), that would mean that Lydea really was in Sebastyan's house at the time of the murder, otherwise she wouldn't have gotten that information to begin with. And if Viktoria herself told her about it, why the hell would she want Lydea to share that information? And there is absolutely no way Lydea would have shared it without Viktoria's consent. National security matter and all that shit

So here's my favorite theory as to who she outsourced the job to: Colette

Colette was trailing Sebastyan, so she knew exactly when Sebastyan would be alone and MC and Trystan were conveniently out of the way. Easy enough then to leave the scene later and go after them tearfully telling them that she lost sight of him. In fact, trailing him gives her a wonderful excuse for any evidence they could find against her, since she had a perfectly valid reason to have been following him. We already know that her main allegiance is to the crown; that means Viktoria. And she, apparently, fucking guards the security cameras in the palace alone, so she was probably at the palace, and that'd explain how she didn't see shit about the murder in the surveillance feed. And, of course, Colette has the same training Lydea does, which means she's just as capable of getting the job done cleanly

She's not a Thorne (unless there really is a 10th sibling and it happens to be her), but she wouldn't have to be if she were under Viktoria's orders. Viktoria is too practical to give a shit about giving Colette a Thorne dagger if it were for the greater good or whatever. And let's be real, of course Viktoria knows about the stupid secret passage and its codes. If anything because Trystan probably used to hide in there to avoid their tutors and Lydea would absolutely snitch their room's code if Viktoria asked

But my favorite part of it is that Colette would probably also have her own ulterior motives: namely, getting rid of Lydea

Trystan's return meant that Lydea was no longer heir, which in turn meant that she could take the Captain of the Royal Guard title again. I'm not sure if she was Captain while Trystan was gone, but even if she was, when she took the throne that spot would be vacant again. And considering how closely to the palace Colette works, and how much Lydea trusts her, I think it's likely that Colette would take that spot once Lydea took the throne

It is in both Viktoria's and Colette's best interests that Lydea takes the throne, for different reasons, which means that them working together would have made a lot of sense. And the fact that their motives are different could explain some of the inconsistencies, such as the ring indentation. There's no way whoever the killer is is stupid enough to fucking leave this massive chunky ring on when going out to murder someone, especially considering they'd have put latex gloves on and getting those around a ring that big would be a fucking nightmare. Are these bitches uncapable of taking off a ring? Come on. Please don't insult my intelligence here. But Colette could have put that on with the specific intent to frame Lydea - who wears the ring on her left hand - if she believed that it would be easier to just let her take the fall for the murders than to try and get her to take the throne again. It'd also explain her going behind Lydea's back to give us info. I can also buy Colette rearranging Sebastyan's body out of respect - he was a member of the royal family, after all

The Thorne dagger could be to put us on a wild goose chase after one of the siblings and point us away from Colette/Viktoria. And Juliana's murder would probably be unrelated, which I actually believe it is, because the M.O is completely different. Juliana's murder was obviously a crime of passion (pardon the pun), even if a planned one, while the others were clearly strategic murders. If it's the same person who committed them, then they did it for different reasons

If Viktoria is behind the murders, it'd also explain her handing over the investigation to MC and not Lydea. I have to assume she thought we weren't as competent as Lydea, especially if we were working with Trystan, whom the entire family consistently underestimates. Getting Lydea away from the investigation might have been her way of making sure no one found out. Which obviously backfired, so she needed to change gears, especially if she knew how close MC and Trystan were to uncovering the truth behind Juliana

It's not airtight, but it'd make for an interesting story in my opinion. My main issue with this theory is that, if Viktoria wanted to get rid of Trystan ASAP, why would she have Nadja be murderer on a day when she knew for a fact Trystan had an alibi? Sure, the alibi was herself, which is convenient, but Maksim was also there, and Maksim likes Trystan. They did separate from them a few (minutes?) before the murder, so maybe she was planning to use that window to frame Trystan and wasn't expecting them to have been with MC when they found the body, ruining the "Trystan did it" theory. It could be that she's been scrambling after that, waiting for a good opportunity to get rid of Trystan (again), and she kept MC around because, since they became an unwanted witness, she needed to keep an eye on them, and there's no better way to do that than making sure they report to her

But there are other theories that I think could be interesting/make sense:

ASTRID

Astrid's been my main suspect for most of the book now, both because of the Juliana reasons mentioned ago and because she seems to always be conveniently there to derail the investigation whenever it goes a certain reason. She was the one who pointed us towards Sebastyan; she was the one who was around when we were talking to Olivia; she was the one trying to deflect and/or start drama among her other siblings whenever we were around trying to interrogate them. But now I have a few issues with my own theory:

1- Astrid doesn't give enough of a shit about Sebastyan to rearrange his body

2- Astrid is way too passionate to make such clean murders, especially Sebastyan's; I also don't think Nadja or Bas were close enough to her to be completely caught off guard by her attack the way the scene implied them to be. And if I'm right about Astrid having murdered Juliana, the differences in M.O would point to her not having murdered Nadja and Bas

3- I can't see a convincing motive

Say Astrid is the illegitimate child. I really don't see why she would be willing to kill to keep that information a secret. Maybe if she actually wanted the throne, but let's be serious: why the fuck would she? As is, Astrid has her perfect life. She has all the privilege with none of the responsibilities, and she can more or less do whatever she wants. She's not even interested in having a short talk with her entire family, nevermind spend most of her days in boring as fuck meetings with foreign dignataries having to make a bunch of decisions and fight her mom over it. Astrid doesn't want the throne, she wants to be at brunch in Barcelona with the girlies

My best guess for this one would be that she wanted to keep her status as a legitimate heir; that could track. Status is everything in Astrid's world, and even if becoming illegitimate would still mean she had the same money and privilege, it would kind of be a scandal that would damage her reputation. Maybe she killed Juliana for passion reasons and then found out about her own illegitimacy because of her, then she killed Nadja and Sebastyan to keep that secret when it looked like they would be poking into that information. It does make sense, and accounts for just about everything we've seen in her behavior

I have three issues with this theory: the first is that it's the most boring answer. The second is that I still don't think she is strong or clean enough to commit these murders, or to rearrange Sebastyan's body. The third is that, if Astrid is illegitimate, then I have no fucking clue why anyone in the family would have wanted to summon Trystan so close to Lydea's coronation

Astrid wasn't the one to get the evidence out there, because this was clearly ordered by one of the monarchs, unless Choices forgot that you don't use "your majesty" to refer to princes and princesses. If they did... Then fine, I guess, maybe she could have wanted to make sure Trystan wouldn't go poking around and find out about her, but I don't really see why she would bother with doing that considering that Trystan wasn't even in Drakovia to begin with. If all she wanted was to keep her illegitimacy a secret, then she already had everything sorted out; bringing Trystan back and reopening that whole wound sounds counterproductive

Unless I'm wrong and Astrid does want the throne, for reasons that I really cannot fathom. Then it could be that they called her "your majesty" because this is all part of a huge conspiracy to get her to the throne. I'm still not sure why she would summon Trystan back, but it does sort of explain the inconsistencies in both Nadja's and Sebastyan's murders. Because she could also be trying to frame Lydea. If she did, she could get rid of Trystan (out of psychological pressure, if nothing else) and Lydea if Lydea took the blame for the murders. It would explain the ring indentation on Sebastyan's neck and even the body rearranging if her plan was to point the investigation towards people who actually liked Sebastyan. She doesn't even have to have committed the murders herself, she could have hired someone and given them instructions. But Astrid hasn't really been gunning to turn the investigation towards Lydea; the one she kept pushing into our path was Sebastyan. Also, again, it's just sort of boring

And if it was really Queen Viktoria who tried to frame Trystan in the trial, which I really think is the most logical explanation, then I don't see why she would go through such lengths to protect Astrid's legitimate status. If it's Lydea, then yeah, she'd want to make sure nothing could get in the way of her coronation. But I can't see her going that far to hide Astrid's secret. Again: who cares? She's not even a viable option for the throne currently, and it's not like having bastard children is a massive scandal in Drakovia

If Astrid isn't the illegitimate child and it's Lydea instead... Then I see no motive whatsoever for her to murder Sebastyan and Nadja. Unless, of course, she does want the throne and thought it'd be a good opportunity to frame Lydea and get rid of Trystan. In that case, Juliana's murder, Trystan's summoning, and the subsequent murders are actually kind of unrelated. Which makes sense because there is so many levels of 5D chess going on here. Goddamn it, that works. Fine

But it could be simply that she killed Juliana, has nothing to do with the current murders, but has been hovering around the investigation to make sure we don't find out about Juliana. That would explain why she keeps trying to make us look into Sebastyan; if we believe that he was the ex, then her secret is safe. I think I kind of prefer that one, but I guess it could go either way

VASILI

The main points in favor of BlameVasili2023 are:

Both the ring and the dagger point to a legitimate Thorne being the culprit, and are really dumb moves, so they could have been Vasili's attempt to make sure he wouldn't be a main suspect

He has the most obvious reason to rearrange Sebastyan's body

He definitely seems strong enough to have committed the murders, and clean enough without being as perfect as Lydea to have been pretty good but still leave some clues

This one is lame, but in this week's chapter, if you choose to watch the twins or Astrid, you get +Detective if you guess at the reasons that imply they didn't do it; but if you choose to watch Vasili, you get +Detective if you wonder what could have made him hurt Sebastyan. I'd like to think Choices isn't shortsighted enough to leave such an obvious clue, but they did spoil the story twice in the chapter summaries, so

There is obviously more to him than meets the eye, and I wouldn't be surprised at all if he had some big dark secret. I do think he hates Trystan, or at least resents them deeply. Enough to want them away from the throne, even if he doesn't inherit it; at least Lydea is someone he respects

The main points against Vasili are:

WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MOTIVE

I could maybe see him killing Sebastyan to do that whole weird "vote for the Act to honor my little brother uwu" shit, but it sounds like a bit of an extreme move when getting rid of Markarov would have worked just as well without killing his own little brother. And if killing Sebastyan sounds like a stretch, then I really see no reason whatsoever for killing Nadja. If Vasili wants the throne, then Nadja working on the Act again was his best bet of getting that to happen; and he could have gotten rid of Trystan after that. It would have been more efficient than killing her, actually. Unless he already had his own plans to get the throne once Lydea became queen, and Trystan being back put those in jeopardy, so he impulsively killed her in an attempt to frame Trystan again. But Sebastyan's murder didn't point to Trystan being the culprit in any way; Vasili would have known by now that Trystan would have been with MC the whole time, thus having an alibi

Unless, of course, Vasili is Juliana's ex, and he killed Sebastyan to protect that secret. Or even to protect that he killed Nadja. But I struggle to see why Sebastyan would snitch on Vasili when he worshipped the ground Vasili walked on to begin with. Maybe it could be that Sebastyan couldn't actually forgive him for killing the woman he loved, or that he had a problem with killing Nadja to get their own goals; but Sebastyan isn't really above playing dirty, as we damn well know. And if it's about Juliana, why wait until now to say something?

Best possibility I can think of right now is that Sebastyan only found out recently that Vasili was Juliana's ex, which was when he discovered the locket in Vasili's things somehow. It would explain why he had it with him without being the ex himself. And if Sebastyan really loved Juliana as much as he was implied to, then that might just be the thing that would get him to turn on Vasili. So Vasili could have killed Juliana out of anger and spite, Nadja to try to get rid of Trystan, and Sebastyan to protect his secret after the aforementioned murders. It would explain the remorse, because he did love Sebastyan, and why he would feel like he had no other reason. And the queen summoning Trystan would be unrelated to that; it just forced his hand in the Nadja murder because he wanted to get rid of Trystan ASAP. It was even Vasili's idea to get Marguerite to have her fashion show, so he could have planned to kill him there all along

God damn it, that's actually kind of airtight. Fuck. I'm gonna be so mad if Vasili did it. I've been saying that I didn't see it for weeks and now suddenly he sounds like a prime suspect. God fucking damn it, fuck

I will however say that I still don't think Vasili fits the profile for Juliana's murder, and if he isn't Juliana's murderer, then he has no reason to kill Sebastyan. Even if Vasili killed Nadja for unrelated reasons, I don't think Sebastyan liked her enough to snitch on him; we already know Sebastyan isn't above a little political murder. So I guess I'm still filing that theory as not the most likely

LYDEA

Best guess for Lydea that isn't that she was under Viktoria's orders is that she does want the throne and lied about it. Not impossible, but I have believed that Lydea never wanted the throne from the start; it's pretty obvious that being Captain is what she enjoys. If she is the illegitimate child, then she could be killing to protect that secret. But then why would she tell MC and Trystan that there was one? As a last ditch attempt to turn them on Astrid, maybe, but that'd be really sloppy. Especially since she didn't have to tell them that the killer was female. She could have pointed them to any one of the siblings she wanted, so why Astrid, whom they never really considered?

Or it could be that it was never about the throne, but to protect Juliana's secret. Anyone looking into the Act would be looking into Juliana's death, and that might point them towards her. But again, I think Lydea is the least likely to be Juliana's ex. If she is, then this whole thing was made on impulse, in a sloppy way (using the Thorne dagger and keeping the ring on, really?) and without much care of the consequences, which is out of character for Lydea. Unless she has a way more impulsive and passionate streak than she lets on, which was what Juliana meant in that letter when she said that they wouldn't expect her to be so creepy and possessive. But it's kind of difficult to hide that you're that impulsive, and I just struggle to buy it for Lydea. Not impossible, though, and character consistency isn't Choices' strongest suit, so I guess that theory is on the run as well

THE 10TH SIBLING

This theory is more crack than anything, not to mention it's basically just Veil of Secrets 2.0, but I don't think one could accuse Choices of being incredibly original. If there is a 10th sibling, my favorite bet is that it's the queen's royal advisor. I could see how being put in that position, ignored by all the other siblings, in a position of subservience, etc etc, would make someone bitter enough to go on a killing rampage. Die hate cry. But if it is the 10th sibling, I think that Choices is gonna pull a "the motive is something we could not have possibly guessed at until the exact moment it is revealed to us out of nowhere" yet again, and I really hope they don't do that, because it's lazy and annoying and disappointing. I can't really see any coherent motive for the 10th sibling right now, since there are many holes in that theory:

Why would she get in the way of the Act for Heir Equity, which would basically put her in equal footing with the others?

Why now, and why these particular victims in this particular way?

Why did Viktoria hide the existence of her when the entire country knows Maksim has three entire illegitimate children? Unless she is older than Trystan (which the advisor seems to be. Also, she has no last name, just saying) and it would be particularly problematic for the firstborn to be a bastard, but sounds kind of like a stretch

There is no clear reason why that would in any way tie with Juliana's murder, which would be pretty disappointing and lazy of them

My best guess: the 10th sibling/royal advisor has been planning to take the throne this whole time, and getting Trystan back was the first step to that plan. She was the one who brought him back, and her lackey called her "your majesty" because they are part of a conspiracy to get her the throne. The plan was always to bring Juliana's murder back to light so they would find out there was an illegitimate child who would inherit the throne. And maybe that could rekindle the interest in the Act for Heir Equity, which had been well and truly dead at that point. But if that's the case, I don't see how killing Nadja and Sebastyan would in any way contribute to that. I could, however, see why she would show remorse over killing Sebastyan; he was, after all, the one closest to her position as a fellow bastard who wanted to change things. All in all, this is the theory that would require us to miss the most pieces of the puzzle, and would mean a lot of the information we got on the other siblings is just pointless. Which, let's be honest, is consistent with how they played Book 1, but I want to believe that this mystery is more interesting than that and the Thorne's involvement is more substantial

In conclusion

I need psychological intervention and the next chapters cannot come out fast enough

If you've read it this far, thank you! If you want to discuss theories, feel free to reblog, reply, or shoot an ask or DM

#playchoices #crimes of passion #crimes of passion 2 #cop2 spoilers #choices cop #meta #i guess???? #idk this is just a really long rambling i doubt anyone will have the interest and patience to read it #but by god i needed to get it out of my system #also if any of my theories is correct i want the bragging rights even if i obviously don't have a definitive theory #i really hope the finale doesn't disappoint #because there are SO MANY interesting possibilities as of right now #cop2 has the potential to be really fucking good or to have the most disappointing finale in choices history so fingers crossed

[x-junwrites-x]

EW AU: Into the Forest of the Beasts

Warlock!Tord and Explorer!Reader Drabble

Tw: none

Tord shook the leaves from his head, trampling over the brush further and further as his legs began to complain about the long journey he’s taken so far. The burning itch inside him to move, to do something, was making him restless the longer he had stayed in his alcove. That was a few days ago, and although he would feel pent up inside his home, it would be a nice respite after having wandered the forests for the amount of time he did. He felt a growl crawling through his chest, an ironclad fist curling along the edges of his feathered cloak before pounding on his chest to fizzle out the noise before it reached his lips. When Edd had told him about the human traipsing along the forest, it had stirred up some long seated hatred for their kind that he thought had been stifled ages ago. He was ancient, for eldritch’s sake. Living this long, he had been able to see many civilizations come and go, usually at the bloodied hand of someone else. It was one of the many weak characteristics of humanity. He felt his lips twitch.

 The way he felt about the news of this human made his heart hammer in his chest as anger filled his lungs with every seething breath he took. Tord shook his head to get rid of the brewing dark thoughts of carnage made of the dark beast clawing inside him. It had been far too long battling his inner fiend and now was probably the worst time to be feeling all this negativity.

He stepped over a few more fallen logs, the wood far into the process of decay as fungus grew over the ridged edges of the bark. It looked the way he felt. With a sigh, he reached down into his belt, feeling around for a second against the cold glass of his elixirs before pulling a bottle filled with dark blue liquid. It slid around like coagulated blood, its viscosity making his stomach churn for a second before popping the cork and tipping his head back. He had taken the same potion many times at this point, but the feeling was always the same no matter how many times he had consumed it. His vision wavered before pinching in on itself as his heart rate spiked in his chest. His throat closed up involuntarily, trying not to gag as the sludge-like liquid went down his throat like those awful human medicines that villagers tried giving him many years ago when they had found him washed up on their shores. He was a mere boy at the time, not knowing that life would lead him down some dark paths the longer he had stayed in the realm of the humans that poked and prodded at his pointed ears and too-sharp teeth. 

Tord shook the feeling off, fluffing up his feathered cloak with a huff as he continued onto the only place he could call his home. The alcove was just a few yards away, the welcoming sight of his abode made his sore feet sing at the thought of comfortably settling back down in his bed. Just as he made it to the clearing in front of the craggy outcropping, the amateur snapping of a twig caught his attention. The warlock felt a headache coming on already at the prospect of his cloven friend asking where he was for the past few days. An excuse was on his lips as he turned to the noise, fully expecting to see Edd trudging through the foliage towards him until he laid eyes on the small creature staring back at him with widened eyes.

Tord choked on his words, feeling his breath catch in his chest at the sight of the human that stood stock-still. They visibly trembled under his stare, the warlock’s piercing gaze staring straight into their soul as they took hurried steps back. Tord instantly snapped out of his stupor, finding a growl sizzling from the pit of his chest as he moved towards the human. His clawed hand reached out to grab their arm before they could flinch. To his surprise, the human yelped and started kicking up a storm as he got near them.

“Stay away from me!” The human screeched, voice ratcheting up as they began throwing random things out of the pack they had slung over their frame. Tord’s ear twitched as the voice grated in his ears. He pulled back slightly, narrowly avoiding being hit with another object as the human began running out of his sight. The warlock paused, legs itching to chase after them but decided against it since they would be gone from the forest soon in one way or another.

*

You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, long past complaining about all of the branches and big leaves that whipped in your face. The sight of that thing dug into the back of your eyes as you ran faster, feeling your heart hammering in your chest. You crashed through this godforsaken forest-you honestly thought that all of those stories the locals had told about it were old wives’ tales-trying to get as far away from that thing as you could. The way it stared at you, its black sunken eyes with piercing white pupils, made you want to throw up. And the way it tried snatching you, its claws looking like daggers in your panic as you tried getting away from it. You slowly came to a stop, legs aching as your lungs burned into the stifling humidity of the area you were in. There seemed to be a lake of some sort just over the fallen log you leaned against as you caught your breath. A groan escaped your mouth as you rubbed a hand over your chest, fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt and feeling your heart thrum rapidly. 

“Fucking forest…” You dug the heel of your hands over your eyes, giving a muffled scream at having the run of your life. 

If only you had heed the warnings given by the villagers, no matter how crazed they sounded.

#eddsworld fanfic #eddsworld and reader #eddsworld #no y/n #fantasy #fantasy au #eddsworld x reader #tord and reader #tord x reader #ew tord #tord eddsworld #eddsworld tord

[frodo-with-glasses]

Tree, Boromir and Faramir

There aren't many trees in Minas Tirith. There's the White Tree, of course, but from boyhood it was drilled into Boromir and Faramir that the White Tree was sacred, and even during their rowdy games of Swords or Elves or Guard and Robber in the courtyard, they always stayed far away from the guards and the fountain and the old tree.

Just outside the city wasn't much good, either. The Pelennor Fields stretched for miles outside the city walls, with the low grasses and tussocks being the only green thing visible as far as the eye could see; most of the buildings in Minas Tirith were made of stone, and the ones that did incorporate wood were built with logs imported from other parts of the kingdom. Trees usually came to Minas Tirith as naked, straight logs on carts drawn by stout horses.

That's why a real, live, standing tree was such a treat.

On the rare occasions that Denethor had business outside of Minas Tirith, Faramir and Boromir would nag and beg their father incessantly to take them with him. Often times, there was some excuse why they couldn't come; "you must stay here and attend to your studies", "the road will be dangerous", "this is a simple business matter, and there will be no time for two young lads to stay and frolic". But sometimes—sometimes, on a miracle—he would agree.

Faramir was only a boy when he saw the forest for the first time, and he fell in love in an instant. The smells, the colors, the variety of life, the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves. Boromir's heart was still with the City, and he was dubious of the mud and the fallen leaves that could conceal animal droppings. But the moment he heard a voice call his name from above, and looked up, and found his little brother grinning down at him from his perch on a stout tree limb several feet over his head, the contest had begun.

The rules were simple, and immediately understood: whoever could climb the highest was the winner. Faramir had been sitting in an oak; Boromir heaved himself up into a maple; Faramir scrambled almost all the way to the top of a tall fir, so high that the branches were thin and swayed alarmingly underneath him.

Boromir thought he'd found a winning tree—many large limbs, starting near the ground and spiraling upwards around the trunk far up to the canopy—but the moment he leaped up to hang on one small, bare, leafless limb, it cracked in his hands, and the dead wood snapped off the tree and came crashing down.

Boromir had the good sense to let go as soon as he heard the crack, but it was a long way to fall. A moment after his boots thumped onto the leaves on the forest floor—and the impact shot up his legs and made his knees shaky—he felt a heavy blow to his shoulder and collapsed face-down. The limb fell, and its dry twigs and fingers snapped all at once with a CRASH.

"Boromir!" Hurried footsteps, and heavy breathing, broke the silence that followed. "Boromir!" Faramir had shimmied hastily down from his perch, and was running to his brother.

Boromir groaned, and grimaced, and pushed into the dirt with his hands and sat up. His shoulder was sore, and he rubbed it gingerly as he leaned against the tree and tried to catch his breath.

"Are you all right?" Faramir had skidded to a halt in front of him, and now looked at him with wide eyes and trembling hands.

Boromir saw the fear and worry in his little brother's face, and wanting to dispel it with laughter, he mustered a smile. "Of course!" he said. "I did not fall very far."

"It seemed so to me," said Faramir. "You are hurt; I can see it. We should have been more cautious. Father will be furious if he learns of this."

"I am not hurt," Boromir repeated, although he had to cover a wince as he sat up straighter. "And Father does not need to know."

Faramir hesitated. "If you are certain."

"I am certain. Although," he said slowly, "I do not wish to climb any more trees. I do not think they have taken a liking to me."

That got Faramir to laugh, and he stood up straighter. "You jest! Trees here do not have the gift of thought; the likes of those can be found only in the stories of old, or in lands far away. Yet if these could think, I'm sure they would find you heavy. Have caution, or you shall get yourself killed."

"Who is heavy?" Boromir scooped a pine cone from the forest floor and threw it at him, laughing, as Faramir ran away.

For just a moment, Boromir was alone, and he took the chance to press his aching shoulder and hiss through his teeth. He wouldn't let Faramir see him like this. He didn't want him to worry. But for just a moment, he leaned against the trunk of a great tree, caught his breath, and sourly plucked out a small twig from where it had stuck into his jacket.

WORD ASK GAME!

#word ask game #faramir #boromir #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #apparently i am unable to stay away from angst even when writing stupid fluffy childhood shenanigans #oh you sweet summer children; if only you knew

[letsbenditlikebennett]

TIMING: Current-ish PARTIES: @singdreamchild & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Both Alex and Cassius find themselves on a late night stroll in the woods. The two catch up briefly when they run into each other. CONTENT: Homophobia mentions

He found himself getting more contemplative after the sun had gone down recently. And instead of continuing to hide like he had been, he had gone out more. Of course, trails closed after the sun went down, but it wasn’t his fault that his skin would start to burn if he tried to hike during daylight hours. That’s how Cassius found himself walking along the trail at sundown. His hands shoved in his pockets as he looked around at the nature around him. It gave him a sort of inspiration. Writing had been hard for him lately, and he had found himself branching out from poetry to writing a novel. It had reinvigorated him and left him with more to say than poetry ever could. So, to get ideas, he often walked around in settings he wanted to portray in his book, like the woods. 

Walking along the trail, he heard a twig snap behind him. Cassius stopped, spinning around to come face-to-face with Alex. “Oh! Hello.” He spoke with a friendly smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, no matter how hard he tried. It was an odd sight, a goth hiking. He was wearing something straight out of a Victorian mourning scene, suitable for a nighttime stroll through the streets of London in the 1800s more than it was the woods as the sun went down in the 21st century. 

“Don’t tell me you’re here to tell me to go home,” he spoke with a frown, knowing that she worked with the park rangers. “Some of us can’t get out while the sun is up for one reason or another.” Usually, he’d make up an excuse for why he couldn’t do things during the day, but he found, lately, that he just didn’t care anymore. So what if someone knew he was a vampire? The worst they could do was kill him. He found that the idea of such a fate didn’t really bother him much, either. It was a strange feeling.

The most recent full moon had made a world of a difference when it came to the restless feelings Alex had been battling, but it had also done wonders on healing up the last of the gunshot wound she got courtesy of one of maman's old friends. The thought held more bitterness than it had previously, but the werewolf was pleased that she could get out and about again without experiencing a significant amount of pain. Even before she'd become a creature of the forest herself, she'd always found peace in nature. Maybe it was because it was everything the basement wasn't— moving, filled with life, open. 

Or maybe she was just a gay girlie who really fucking loved trees and flowers. Alex figured it didn't matter that much either way. She was trying to let go of the idea of 'soft' being a bad thing and that meant whatever the reason was for the whole plant love thing didn't actually matter. It didn't have to be some guise to work as a park ranger and protect people, it could just be. She could just be. 

Alex was doing decidedly doing pretty damn good at the whole just existing thing as she walked through one of her favorite patches of the forest. The fir trees ahead had clusters of honey mushrooms growing overhead that lit up patches of the trail with the most beautiful green glow. It was decidedly a peaceful little nighttime hike that pleased the werewolf's need for a bit of movement though she found herself caught off guard when she ran into someone... her high school history teacher in full goth? Sure, that was his aesthetic normally, but it was a little jarring to see in the middle of the forest, especially considering she hadn't even heard him approach. 

“Oh hey,” she waved with a smile despite her confusion. Alex was nothing if not polite to her teachers, former and current alike. The idea of even a past teacher not liking her was enough to send her into a spiral, so she just avoided that likelihood altogether. But then, he mentioned something about her telling him to leave and not being able to get out during the day.

Alex raised a suspicious eyebrow and found herself listening for a heartbeat that wasn't there. The steady thrum of her own heart was the only one making a sound on the trail. “Huh,” she shrugged, “I wasn't gonna say shit actually. I'm still on leave from my internship so I'm out here enjoying the trail just like you.” 

If she wanted her old teacher to continue liking her, maybe brushing over the vampire suspicion would have been a better move, but her best friend was a zombie and she hung out at a farm staffed by zombies like all the time. Alex even manned their instagram account. Plus, Aria was a mare. She was like totally a friend to the undead. For once, it brought her some satisfaction knowing how much her parents would hate that. 

“So no getting out when the sun's shining...,” Alex hummed, “And no heartbeat.” She offered a smirk to show it didn't matter much to her. It wasn't like she was gonna pull that rosary out that Emilio had given her when that lapir decided she looked like lunch. “I'm guessing I shouldn't break out the garlic bread,” she asked jokingly, “Wait? Is that actually a thing?” She'd probably feel pretty murderous if she couldn't eat garlic bread either, to be fair. 

“Or is it like one of those weird media twists... like Twilight and all the werewolves wearing jorts,” she asked, half serious, “We don't wear jorts... Well, at least not all of us. I much prefer hiking pants or joggers myself. Though I've been known to rock some Daisy Dukes when the theme calls for it.” 

Like when Cass introduced her to the hoedown throwdown from Hannah Montana. That was an occasion that called for Daisy Dukes 100%. Somehow, she had the feeling her history teacher understood the importance of doing something for the aesthetic. 

—

The vampire raised a brow at Alex as she confessed she was in the woods for the same reason. He adjusted his satchel, which held the journal where he had written his ideas down. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one out walking at night. It was nicer still that it was someone Cassius recognized as a former student. Alex had always been one of the better students, smart and memorable enough that she stuck out in his mind. Of course, it was weird to connect with a student after graduation, but it wasn’t unwelcome either. Plenty of students had reached out to him over social media over the years. He may be old, but he wasn’t a curmudgeon hiding from the internet.

He froze as soon as she started to list the things that made him a vampire. It was weird to be called out on it, but it was also nice not to hide it. Sometimes it was good to be seen for what he truly was, minus the slayer who wanted nothing more than his head to be stuck on a pike. “Caught me,” Cassius muttered with an amused smirk. “Some of us hide in plain sight, I will admit.” He crossed his arms over his chest as she spoke. “Garlic forces my fangs out, but doesn’t make me break out in a rash or anything.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “I still avoid it where I can. Some people freak out at the sudden appearance of fangs and red eyes.” He wiggled his fingers dramatically. 

“Call me a twilight vampire, and I’ll leave.” He threatened, pointing a finger in her direction accusatorily. No, the only thing he had in common with Twilight was that one actor that looked spookily like him. “A werewolf?” He cocked his head to the side, brow raised. “Sharp wit, a temper to match…” he trailed off, looking over the girl’s face. “Yeah, that tracks.” He gave a soft smile. He didn’t care what she was. She had always been a good person. “One of us reps a more stereotypical look than the other, but there’s still time for you.” He gave a toothy grin. “You’re still young, after all.” He raised his brows, almost as if he was issuing a challenge.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, more of a habit to appear human than an actual need to do so. “Obviously, I hide in plain sight.” He shot back, gesturing to what he had on in all its Victorian glory. “Only gotten me caught once in all my years, so I’m doing something right.” Of course, he had also been careless, traipsing around a graveyard that he knew slayers liked to frequent. 

Hiding in plain sight. Part of her had to wonder just how old the vampire was and if he would understand the Taylor Swift reference in his own words. Alex figured she may have already been pushing her luck with being one of his favorite alumni students by asking the whole 'bones or boobs' thing. She wasn't sure dropping a pop culture lesson was the move here, especially considering he looked like he listened to whatever the Edgar Allan Poe of music was which was decidedly not Taylor Swift even if Dear Reader was decidedly a bop and a half. A bop squared even. And... It was pretty emo. 

Instead, Alex laughed. “The curse of having hearing that is just... way too good.” She shrugged. Most of the time it was more of a curse than a gift, but it helped sometimes. What was a little sensory overload in the big scheme of things anyway? “You're doing a pretty good job... wouldn't have guessed before,” she gestured, “Even if the outfit is kind of giving vibes. I just always thought you had a really good sense of fashion. But hey... garlic forces my fangs out too, but probably a very different deal.”

She just loved eating food with garlic in it. Garlic bread, garlic chicken, garlic dip— it was all delicious in her book. Then again, Alex also thought a whole moose unseasoned was delicious depending on the day of the month, so she probably wasn't anyone's go-to culinary expert. Kaden would probably laugh at her name and the phrase even being used in the same sentence considering she was more than content to eat Chefboyardee straight from the can and call it dinner. 

Alex did find herself relaxing into the easier banter. Ah the one thing that connected the supernatural together—- fucking hating Twilight. She leaned against one of the firs and chortled a bit. “Duly noted, teach.” The confirmation of her own species did leave her feeling a bit uneasy, but it was getting easier to say the words at least. “Yep, I'm a werewolf... have been this whole time actually,” she shrugged, “Got bitten when I was 7 so the moon and I have been vibing for a long time.“ 

Vibing was nicer than the truth of it, but the full moon didn't fill Alex with as much dread now that she had a taste of it outside of her bunker. Her bones didn't still carry that same antsy feeling in them the following morning. Even the jokes felt a little easier to lean into and it was a change... that she was pretty sure she welcomed. ”I don't know,“ she retorted playfully, ”I think granola gay is pretty on brand for werewolf... even if it's not on brand for Twilight werewolves, but like--- what is? Twilight got most shit wrong... and had that ugly CGI baby.“ 

She didn't actually know that for sure, but Thea had mentioned it and she trusted that bit. Alex had only seen the first two movies with Cass when it was explained the role the films played in pop culture. They were kind of fun to laugh at. 

”So you've been a vampire the whole time then too,” Alex mused, “Huh. How long has it been for you? Are you like... old enough to have been there for some of the history you taught?” Getting caught only once meant he probably wasn't out eating people left and right... which was a good thing. Not that he had given her the vibe she needed to be afraid of him when he was her teacher. All in all, he was pretty chill as far as teachers went. 

Something in him getting caught did make her own stomach turn. Alex refused to acknowledge that feeling too deeply and instead joked, “Can't say I've been as lucky on that front, but part of the fun of becoming what the family kills or whatever.“ Because somehow every attempt on her life always came back to that. Her aunt, her mother's friend.... hopefully there weren't anymore coming out of the woodwork, but she wasn't sure how much she trusted her own luck.  

Cassius couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for Alex. The idea of being a little girl and suddenly going through trying to understand being a werewolf on top of everything else sounded awful. “Vibing is one word to use,” he muttered, though mostly to himself. “I’ve been thirty-three for one hundred and seventy-three years.” He confessed, raising his hands above his head as if to say, what can you do?

He had to take a moment to process the phrase ‘granola gay,’ he felt as if time was finally catching up to him, as he had no idea what that could mean. “What is granola gay?” He asked, face a mix of weirded out and confused. “Twilight made people think that vampires sparkled in the sun. I wish all the sun did was make me sparkle.” Cassius frowned, as if disappointed in his person's lack of sparkling skin. 

“I’ve been thirty-three for one hundred and seventy-three years.” He confessed, raising his hands above his head as if to say, what can you do? “I was born in 1817, turned in 1851.” He let out a sigh through his nose. It was weird to talk about his true age out loud. Let’s say my knowledge of Victorian England and onward is more of a lived experience than something I read about.” 

He gave a thoughtful look for a moment. “My sire was born in the 1500s. He was a plague doctor. I got much of my history knowledge from someone who lived it rather than the written variety. I became a history teacher because it was an easy gig.” He smiled wryly, knowing he had taken a lazy way out. But hey, someone had to teach it.

“The only reason I have avoided being hunted for sport for as long as I have is because I was taught to have no connections. And when I overstayed my welcome, I moved to the next place.” He shrugged a shoulder, a faraway look in his eyes as he talked about it. “My sire made sure that we put survival first.” The faraway gaze turned sad, and he shook his head as if willing the thoughts out of his mind. “I don’t recommend living your life that way. Better to learn self-defense than run away from your problems whenever the winds turn against your favor.”

Of all the crazy things Alex could expect to find in the woods, finding herself explaining what granola gay meant to her high school history definitely wasn't one of them. It was far less nefarious than most of the things that lurked in the woods. Cassius always had possessed a certain bravado that seemed to pair well with his classic vampire style. With all the kitschy stuff in Wicked's Rest, the vampire was easy to look over. He practically blended in here. She realized that maybe Wicked's Rest, with all its terrifying faults, was the kind of place where people like them could carve out a life for themselves. Hadn't they both done just that? 

“Granola gay... is like your outdoorsy gay stereotype. Lots of flannel, lots of hiking boots, hydroflasks.” Alex grinned wickedly. “I stole mine. The hydroflask that is... Actually some of the boots and flannel too. But those fucking water bottles are like $60? Capitalism has got me fucked up on that one.” She gestured to the beanie on her head. “But like beanies, other weather friendly hats and outerwear. Backpacks instead of purses. General gist of it.” 

The whole granola aesthetic did seem fitting for what werewolves actually were, or at least, who Alex was as a werewolf. She wasn't sure her experience spoke to all werewolves, but she'd found the forest was a place her and Alan both seemed to enjoy. She'd felt her most free on the full moon weaving through the trees alongside Gael. Who knew. All she knew is it fit her. 

“Yeah, sparkling does seem more fun than catching fire,” Alex joked with a cynical laugh, ”With the way people are using highlighter these days, no one would even know the difference.“ 

How old her former history teacher was didn't surprise Alex as much as she expected. It was like pieces of a puzzle fitting together perfectly. ”And here I was going to say you don't look a day over 140,“ she quipped. “That's pretty neat though... Teaching stuff you've actually lived. And hey, you're good at it.” 

That much was true. Cassius did have a way of making the subject fun even though it wasn't normally her favorite. Alex nodded along as he spoke and found herself frowning. She'd spent a long time running and she wasn't sure she could do it again. Both she and Andy had finally started to place roots and build actual lives. Her stomach turned with guilt, she knew that was worth fighting for. It was still hard to think she shouldn't have made Andy to be the one to fight. 

“Yeah... I moved around a lot when I was younger before we settled here,” Alex explained, “Always me and my sister.” There were a lot of good memories in all the places they called home, however temporarily. “Survival is good,” she noted, “But I think you're right. It's not... living. Or unliving? It's not a life might be the better way to say that. Connections, getting to experience all that is worth fighting for, I think.” 

Cassius couldn’t stop the amused smile that broke over his features, and he shook his head and let out a soft laugh. “Definitely not me, then.” He murmured, that same smile on his features as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Guess that makes me the confused gay.” He pointed to himself with a sage nod. “If I had to choose, of course.” He tacked on, now stuck thinking about ridiculously priced water bottles. His smile turned into an annoyed frown. “Good on you for stealing it. Take capitalists down a peg.” He decided with a smirk in her direction.

“It was strange to talk about these things with a former student. Then again, Alex had already crossed a few boundaries when she dared ask him about his preferences for bones or boobs. He shuddered at the memory. He made it a habit to be polite with his former students but kindly shut down any further acts of friendship on the student’s part. He wasn’t sure why. It just never ceased to make him feel a little bit uncomfortable. Still, being friendly wasn’t that terrible. 

The vampire thought for a moment. He had lived through quite a few historical events, hadn’t he? “You want to know something kind of cool?” He asked her, the corner of his lips quirking upwards. “I may or may not have been in the stonewall riots.” He explained with a shrug of his shoulder. He remembered the pure and unbridled rage he had felt that day. He was so damn tired of hiding who he was at that point—repressing one’s sexuality since the 1800s? He could only take so much. “That’s one piece of history I was present for, anyway.” He waved a hand as if it wasn’t that important. He remembered the look on Richard’s face when he had gotten home before sunrise. He was pissed, but he was also a little proud. 

“Between you and me,” he began, letting his hands fall from his pockets. “I’m still trying to learn to make connections.” He frowned, kicking at the dirt beneath his boot. “Spent so long being taught to avoid everyone and everything at all costs makes unlearning it a bit hard.” He sighed, looking around at his surroundings momentarily before gazing back at the young werewolf. “I’m glad to see that you’re doing well, Alex. Truly.” He shuffled his feet, as if getting ready to leave.

It was a strange chance meeting, but one Alex found she didn't quite mind. Of everything and everyone she could have run into in the forest in the middle of the night, her high school history teacher was hardly even close to the worst. Running into him had actually been nice and she didn't even feel weird about the whole him being a vampire thing. That had to be progress or something, she decided. 

“Confused gay, classical gothic gay,” Alex shrugged, “Kind of go hand in hand anyway. And taking capitalists down apeg is like my favorite hobby.” She smiled proudly at that one. Maybe she couldn't actually be Robin Hood, but embracing the spirit felt right. 

When Cassius shared a bit of history with her, Alex's eyes widened with  amazement. “Really,“ she asked incredulously, ”That's... I mean it's terrible that it had to happen, but pretty fucking awesome you were out there fighting for our right to exist and all.“ It made her pretty proud to call the vampire her teacher even if she couldn't necessarily advertise that part of his history. Cass would at least appreciate it, she thought. 

Part of her understood where Cassius was coming from. Had Alex not staved off making connections outside of Andy for most of her life? It'd been easier that way, but then they found a place they could actually call home... and well, their world got bigger. ”Connections have a way of sneaking up on you in a town like this,“ she smiled wistfully as she thought of the friends she'd made, ”It's hard to unlearn, but... people can surprise you.“  She saw him moving to leave and offered a friendly wave. “Good seeing you... and take care,” she called out. 

#wr cassius #homophobia tw #wickedswriting #threads; with cassius #threads; with cassius; no twilight stereotypes #(never been a natural all i do is try try try) ;; writing #(the moonlight is blinding) ;; season 1 writing

[suffering-is-cute]

how i know you love me: you never say that it's a waste of your time for me to cry.

how i know you love me: a study. one i am slightly horrified by.

you hug me, when my back is bent over from the weight of the words i pour into a careful stash of a safe because i'm kneeling,

i'm kneeling,

knee-ling, it hurts you inexplicably and just that. for no other reason.

how i know you love me: a discovery. one that breaks my heart at the fragility of me. i used to will myself not to really love.

but you, you rub my shoulders when they are knotted up, sneaking up on me from behind to do so. i am beginning to sob in an ugly grimace and you proffer me a tissue - tell me not to hold back. hit you if it helps. couldn't bring myself to. doesn't change what a monumental offer it was that you made to me.

how it shocked me, then, scared me right out of my boots. quaking. paling. how i know i love you: i would try to cross the world even if it's begging for the creation of a failure. i'd work towards it, i do, every, every, day. the hard ones, too. especially the hard ones.

i bang on my own door wielding the knife of your absence that stabs me straight through the gut. the odds are slim, but i can be thinner. i want to slide between the gaps of what can't be and what is allowed to happen right into the channeling flow of what you tell me i can do. what you trust me to do.

how can i refuse that? how, why would i ever let you down? no correct excuse. i have to live up to your love, then.

i don't make a habit of believing in myself because i know all too well how easily i lie to anyone but strangers and people who taste the turning restlessness of a ribboned hunger. people who bite back when i leave out bait, fondly or otherwise. but for you i forgot my weakness and picked up courage shaped like a frying pan.

i have a want that i am willing to admit and make slightly tangible, flickering like a ghost on a noir movie behind me - a want that is so strong my sensitivity could break if it was ever jeered at. here. take it, unfold it, make whatever comment you will.

i want to make you breakfast every morning, even when it hurts for me to wake up.

even when there are dark circles under my eyes, even feverish and even spent. unless you, clutching my hand sleepily, tell me to come back to bed with you, i will set my alarm and then i will get up. i will fasten my apron and i will make something warm for you to consume.

how i know you love me: i think you know what i want, and you haven't left once of your own accord. you hold on to me because you see something, i assume, something you want.

i have dreamed, of being valuable. i do not let go of dreams within my reach, no matter how painful the bark of the thin twig in my grasp is. no matter how much rawness scraped into my palm or the calluses or the prickling of blood like baby rubies.

i do not scare you, never have, not yet.

i will try my best to blunt my fangs and soften my heart. you ought to have this from me. it tastes right to give it.

#spilled ink #poets on tumblr #original poem #original poetry #poems and poetry #twcpoetry #writers #poets of tumblr #writerscreed #poeticstories #prose poem #prose poetry #poetics #free verse #dark academia #light academia #love poem #love poetry #romantic love poem #writers on tumblr #writers in love #romance #acts of service #love #knife #bark #tissue #crying #scared to love #sufferingiscute

[shina913]

Scions, Ch.4 - Fem!Reader | Kim Line + JHS

Scions, 4 - Fem!Reader/YN

sci·​on | \ ˈsī-ən \ Definition: (1) a descendant (2) a shoot or twig, especially one cut for grafting or planting

✼Scions Masterlist✼

Pairing: JHS x Fem!Reader; Fem!Reader Sister + Kim Brothers

Rating: M (🔞)

Genre: Siblings!AU; Marriage!AU; FWB!AU; exes to ?; angst; smut; fluff; Mom!Reader; Brother's Best Friend

Warnings: ANGST!!!; character has terminal illness; discussion of said terminal illness; mentions of hospice care; some bickering; lots of crying; parenting frustrations; vulnerable confessions; excessive cussing; children throwing tantrums; pining; alcohol consumption; some fluff (if you squint hard enough); marriage troubles; ANGST (yep, as if the first mention of it wasn't enough of a warning)

Word count: 7,984K+

Summary: Four grown siblings return to their childhood hometown after their father is declared to be terminal. They are forced to live under the same roof for days, along with their overbearing mother, to say their final goodbyes. It starts off nostalgic until some unresolved family issues along with an assortment of spouses, exes, and might-have-beens make things even more interesting.

A/N: Okay so...this chapter gets super dramatic, FYI. There's some tiny bit of relief in the middle but I'm going to be straight up--it's an angst-sandwich. There. I said it.

As soon as you walk through the door of your childhood home, you are greeted by Yoojung, who stands in the middle of your parents’ kitchen. She was stirring a huge stock pot filled with soup–it looked like she was cooking for an army, but really, it was because your two other brothers were also due in a few hours.

She approached you, giving you a quick hug before taking Jooni from your arms and ushering a half-asleep Joobin into your old bedroom. You thanked her before you made a beeline for your parents’ bedroom.

As soon as you crossed the threshold, you scanned the room. It didn’t really look like their room anymore. At least, not as you remembered it. The hospice folks worked quickly. In a matter of hours, they set up a hospital bed in the far corner, right by the windows, which looked out into the front yard. This was where your dad used to read on lazy Monday afternoons, when the restaurant was closed.

He had a tufted wingback chair with a matching ottoman where he propped his feet up. When you were little, you remember sitting on his lap and falling asleep while he read to you. You also had a photo of him holding your then-3-year old son and weeks-old daughter on the same chair. It held a place of pride on your desk at home.

“Hey, YN,” Jin calls your attention from where he stood by the doorway. You had completely missed him because you were distracted with seeing your dad laid up in that hospital bed.

It was late–practically dawn when you arrived. You hauled ass out of the city right after receiving your brother’s call.

You gave him a tight embrace before you continued to take in the sight in front of you.

“He’s on a morphine drip,” your mom said softly while she fluffed his hair. “You can still talk to him and he will hear you.”

You approached your dad’s bedside carefully, giving your mom a quick hug. When you pull away, she moves aside, excusing herself to go check on the children down the hall.

You take the seat next to the bed and curled your fingers around your dad’s hand that rested on his side. You bring it up to your lips, kissing it before turning it over to cup your cheek with his palm.

Although he looked pale, his skin still felt warm and soft. You stared at him for a minute–wondering how he got to this point. He had just come to see you and the children not so long ago. Seeing him in this state–it was the last thing on your mind.

It was puzzling to you. You couldn’t help but wonder what was really going on. And if whatever illness he had was serious, why would he hide it from all of you?

You pried your eyes away from him and turned to Jin. “Wh–what happened, oppa? I don’t understand…”

He swallowed hard, still clearly coming to grips with it himself.

“D-don’t you check on him regularly? You had no idea what was going on?” You didn’t mean to sound accusatory. You were only asking due to his proximity to your parents. He had the easiest and quickest access to them.

You set your dad’s hand back down, giving it a quick squeeze before setting it on his stomach. 

“Don’t you think I have been checking? And if I knew, do you really think that I would have kept it from any of you?“ He snaps but then quickly caught himself. “I’m sorry,” he says in a rush while softening his tone. “I…I kept tabs on his check-ups, got regular updates from mom, I-I don’t know how I missed it,” he shakes his head.

He goes on to parrot everything that Jimin had relayed to him at the hospital. He figured he’d have to repeat this two more times when Taehyung and Namjoon arrive so he might as well get some practice.

“The doctor–” he lets out a wry chuckle, “Jiminie–says that it could take a couple days…maybe, weeks?” He was trying to sound hopeful even though the situation was anything but.

He sighed heavily. “Either way, dad doesn’t have a lot of time left. So, mom asked all of us to stay until, uh…u-until…” With his voice cracking, he captured his lower lip with his teeth.

“Until…” You echoed–not able to bring yourself to finish his sentence either. Your nose stung with the threat of tears that you’d been holding in during the hours-long drive here, with your children asleep in the backseat.

You watch his chin quiver but when he chokes back a sob, you stand abruptly to rush to him and give him a hug. He wraps his arm around you as you both wept quietly, holding each other.

******

Taehyung arrives about an hour after you do. He also rushes up the staircase–going up two steps at a time. Ironically, this was something that your mom had told him repeatedly not to do when he was younger.

Jin gives him the whole spiel about your dad’s prognosis. You held him while he sobbed at his bedside, rubbing his scalp in an attempt to soothe him–something that you used to do a lot whenever he woke up from a nightmare and snuck into your bedroom for comfort.

It was daybreak by the time Namjoon arrived. He was slightly delayed because he had to make arrangements for his work and made sure that everything was taken care of given his abrupt and extended absence. He also had to leave a very detailed message for his lawyer to take care of business first thing in the morning.

As soon as he walks into the room, Jin and your mom were shocked at his overgrown hair and unshaven look but they tried not to point it out.

Just then, Taehyung enters after returning from the bathroom, takes one look at him and decides to state the obvious. “Mwo–Namjoonie-hyung! Is Jaxon going for an emo-grunge theme for his comeback? Are you uh…trying to get into character or something?” he says, in true little brother form.

Namjoon just glowered at him. Taehyung raises his hands in mock defeat and backs off.

He was stoic while he listened to Jin talk about your dad’s current medical state. He nodded and hummed occasionally, conveying that he understood what was going on.

Growing up, Namjoon wasn’t typically overt about his emotions. His recent breakdown was a rarity for you–he also had a lot of alcohol in his system then.

He looked tired–you all did since the last two days had basically folded into one another. None of the adults had gotten any legitimate sleep.

Yoojung, ever the good wife that she was, made breakfast for everyone. Not that anybody had much of an appetite. Besides, your children were just waking up around this time–a bit later than usual as they were off their routine. You made them their own plates at the dining table while your brothers surrounded them, watching them quietly. You each sipped on your chosen forms of caffeine.

“So–” Your mother began. “I know this is difficult for all of us…” You all look up as she makes her presence known in the kitchen. 

“Why didn’t you tell us what was really going on?” Namjoon asked from where he sat.

She sighed softly. “Namjoon…”

“Why would you lie to us like this?” Taehyung counters.

She gives your baby brother a pained look. “Sweetheart, you need to understand–”

“But why would you deprive us of our time with him?” Namjoon cut her off once more, sounding slightly more aggressive this time. You weren’t sure if he was just emotional about your dad or…if other things going on in his life were clouding his judgment. Then his voice began to rise slightly. “If we knew that he was seriously ill, we would have–”

“Joobinie, Jooni–would you like to go and take a walk to the little park around the block?” Yoojung interrupts softly, looking at you for assurance. Your kids’ eyes light up at their aunt’s offer to play so early in the morning.

You gave her a small but grateful nod, which she returned with a smile. Your children pick up their dishes and diligently put them away as your sister-in-law takes them to grab their jackets and shoes to take a short walk towards the community park. You didn’t care if they soiled their pajamas. Yoojung knew that you were inching closer to a family blowup and she didn’t want the children to witness that.

You sighed. Bless this woman–you shot Jin a look…he needs to put a baby in her like, yesterday.

They gave everyone cute little goodbye hugs and they were off.

“It would have disrupted your lives,” your mom continued after the front door shut.

Namjoon’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“And you think this is not disruptive to our lives now?” Taehyung was incredulous. “You call us in a rush out here to pretty much wait for dad to…” He paused to clear his throat to disguise his quivering voice. “Uh..to…to…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. He balled his fist up and held it to his mouth to stop his emotions from spilling out.

Namjoon quickly stood up from his chair to move behind Taehyung, squeezing his shoulder assuringly. 

“Ma, what Taehyungie is trying to say is that, we could have come around more, spent more time with him,” you explained.

“Why would you wait this long to tell us?” Jin argued. “Now that–that’s it’s too late? When there’s nothing else that could be done?”

“Was this your idea?” Namjoon says with a slight edge to his voice, squaring his jaw. “Appearances have always been your thing,” he remarks flippantly.

Your mother’s neck jerks back at the sound of his comment. She turned her head and shot him a look. It was one that was frequently lauded by many movie and TV audiences. It was a look that was subtle but closeup-worthy.

“I’ll have you know, Namjoon-ah, it was his idea,” she said quietly but firmly.

You rarely saw this side of her because in your childhood, she was away working for half the year. But when she was home, she meant business. And whenever she gave any of you that look, it meant that fucking about was over.

Namjoon’s stance loosened. Although your brothers towered over your mother, she always had a way to knock them down a peg or two.

She sighed while moving towards the center of the room. “I hated it from the beginning. I tried to talk him out of it but he repeatedly insisted that this was how he wanted to go about things. He wanted you all to keep living your lives…and not look at him as somebody who was,” she threw her hands up weakly, “Fading away.”

“Did he think that he was going to be a burden for us? Like, if we took care of him or took time off? We would have been happy to do it.” You looked at each of your brothers for assurance. They all silently agree with you.

Jin stood in the far corner, by the kitchen sink. Head hung low, feeling a pang of guilt. He couldn’t shake that feeling. He lived the closest–why didn’t he pay more attention? Why didn’t he ask more questions? He could and would have alerted all of you to it.

“No, sweetheart. That’s not the case–it’s not what your dad thought at all.”

“He took care of all of us–why wouldn’t we do the same for him?” Taehyung adds.

You watched your mom’s expression switch to a pained look for a very brief moment. She knows that Taehyung didn’t mean any offense by it but it didn’t make it hurt less. She was fully aware that she missed out on so much of your childhood. Only weeks after Taehyung was born, she landed a role for a huge TV series on a major broadcasting network. It was a difficult decision but after a lengthy conversation with your dad, they mutually decided that they could make it work.

“I still don’t understand. Why give us a half-truth? He told us he didn’t feel well but that he just needed some rest and some medication and he’d be fine.” Namjoon, ever the logical one, tries to rationalize the situation.

“He didn’t want you all to be sad. He wanted you to remember him with all of the happy memories that you built with him–especially in his last few days.”

******

//FLASHBACK

“Oh geez–dad! No-no-no, please! The kids are heavy–” Your pleas are drowned out by your children’s squeals and giggles as your dad gives them piggy-back rides. 

“Thank you, honey,” he says about half an hour later as he accepts an ice pack from you and presses it against his lower back.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” you chuckled at him.

“We were just having a little fun, YN. I rarely see my grandkids.” You both glance over at your mom who was on the couch doing a very dramatic reading of Matilda while snuggled in between your two littles–who were extremely entertained by her comical rendition of Miss Trunchbull. 

Your mom may not have been there much during your childhood–but it seemed like she was making up for it with your children. She often said that being ‘halmeoni’ was the one role that she would never take for granted. It warmed your heart immensely.

You pried your eyes away from them and sighed at him with a tinge of guilt. “Sorry, dad. It’s just really difficult with work and the weekday routine…plus, the kids’ extracurricular activities–”

“Honey–you don’t have to explain it to me. We raised all four of you–I know what a challenge it is to corral small children, believe it or not,” he laughs.

Suddenly, his expression turns serious. “How are you, princess?” He hadn’t called you that in years. When Jooni was born, she inherited the pet-name, which you didn’t mind at all. You never really pictured yourself to embody the nickname.

“Every day is different, dad…but I’m managing,” you mustered with a smile.

He lets out a heavy sigh. “YN, I’m disappointed in you.”

You scrunch your face in confusion. “What? What did I say? I thought I was being honest.”

“I know you are! Which is why I’m doubly disappointed in you. I didn’t raise you and your brothers to just–’manage’ your life.”

“Dad, things are different these days. You know…back then, parents figured out the multi-tasking thing. It was perfectly fine to leave your kids at the neighbors’ for hours on end. I don’t…I don’t have many friends in the city,” you said, turning away from him.

And no, the moms that you chat and gossip with at the car line in school do not count as ‘friends,’ nor does your bi-weekly paint-and-sip group.

“Hmm…yes, you did enjoy that. And I could confidently go about my workday never having to worry about you while you stayed over at the neighbor’s,” he says with a slight hint of teasing.

You faced him again and saw his expression, feigning innocence, as if his last remark didn’t mean to be loaded with meaning. “Dad…don’t,” you shook your head. “That’s…not even what I meant by my last comment.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “You should come home more often, YN.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, dismissively. “By the way, did Jiminie put you on some new medication?” You switched topics, veering from one uncomfortable subject into another.

“Uh–” he begins tentatively, “He upped the dosage a bit. Why?”

“I uh, heard you hurling in the bathroom earlier. Is everything okay?”

“Nothing to worry about. You know, Dr. Park says some of these medicines are pretty strong that they make your stomach upset. I just forgot to take my antacid, that’s all,” he says with a smile.

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “And you’re sure that you talked to him about that? I’m just worried that–”

“Princess–despite how you know Dr. Park–he knows what he’s doing. He graduated at the top of his class and chose to work in our small, community hospital when he could have gone elsewhere to do great things. I trust him fully.”

You eyed him for a bit but that placated you. Suddenly, you snort. “I’m sorry–I still think it’s weird that we have to call Jimin-ah ‘Dr. Park,’” you said as you both laughed.

//END FLASHBACK

******

“I can’t believe I could have asked Jiminie this whole time,” Taehyung says, shaking his head.

“It wouldn’t have mattered. He was bound by doctor-patient confidentiality,” Jin interjects quietly. “He would have told you what dad wanted you to hear.”

“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t just tell us,” Namjoon insists. “It just…seems so selfish.”

Your mom shook her head. “You know–just because your father practically raised you all doesn’t mean that you are entitled to make decisions for him–entitled to his life. You’ve been used to the thought of his life being part of a whole,” she eyed all of you intently.

“This family. This community. For once–he wanted to make a decision just for himself. And if it was how he was going to live out his last few days? Then so be it. And this might be hard for you to believe but through every step, we made all of these choices together. Both of us did.”

You all sighed deeply. Each of you gave your mom a hard time–in varying levels–for her absence. She didn’t mind being seen as the bad guy sometimes. She was used to playing one on-screen. She always cared–it may have been behind-the-scenes…but she did.

“Anyway…it was your father’s final request for all of you to be here. This–is probably the worst time to have a family reunion and I know we haven’t all been under one roof for this long in years. It’s going to be hard, and we’ll probably get on each other’s nerves–I mean–look at us right now,” she chuckled softly.

“But for the next few days? You are all my children again,” she declares before turning on her heel to head back upstairs to return to your dad’s bedside.

******

It’s been years since you’ve made up every excuse in the book to avoid coming back to this place.

After pulling up in your car, you stared at the sign out front. It hasn’t changed much save for a new paint job and brighter lights. But it was still pretty much the same as when you had last seen it from your rearview mirror.

You spot a couple walking onto the path leading to the front door and recognize them as old friends you went to school with. They don’t see you sitting in the car, debating whether to walk in or not.

But the next decent bar wasn’t for another few miles away, the next town over and you really didn’t mean to stray too far from home. You just wanted a bit of quiet time…quiet time for yourself. Not having to think of anything else or worrying about what everybody else needed. 

A quiet two hours to yourself was hard to come by in recent years. During the day, you always had a full schedule. Everybody always needed something from you, asking you to cater to them. And you did, because…well, who else was going to do it?

After this morning’s heavy conversation, the kids started to grow impatient. The novelty of being in halmeoni and harabeoji’s house had worn off. They’d been taken out of their normal routine and they were finding it difficult to adjust despite you doing your best to maintain structure in your parents’ home. The problem was, your children also did their very best to defy you at every turn. Pretty soon, things come to a screeching halt when Jooni starts wailing and Joobin was throwing a tantrum.

You grit your teeth, trying to will yourself to calm down but you were too overwhelmed–overwhelmed with the kids, your job, your father’s mortality.

Jin quickly steps in and lifts Jooni off the floor and swings her around in mid-air, which makes her squeal and giggle in an instant. Taehyung goes to Joobin and offers to take him to the garage to marvel at harabeoji’s cool car.

Yoojung practically shoves you out the door to take a few minutes to yourself. She assures you that the children would be entertained enough. Namjoon spends most of the day in the basement, making a few calls and doing some work but throws in a cursory offer of assistance. You didn’t need to beg–they were all too happy to oblige because they saw it in your eyes.

“Don’t worry about anything, YN,” Jin said.

“Yeah, just go and have a little time for yourself,” Yoojung chimes in.

“Okay. You know you can call me whenever, right and I’ll be back in a heartbeat.”

“Of course! Now leave before we change our minds,” Taehyung teases as he picks up a giggling Joobin and slings him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

And this is how you found yourself in front of this bar. The one that almost each kid in town who turned 21 had their first, public, legal drink.

To anybody else, that last bit sounded completely corny and uneventful. But for your small town, it was a huge deal. It was a rite of passage of sorts–to mark your adulthood–at Hangsang. 

It was by complete coincidence that the bar was also a few feet from your hometown’s ‘welcome’ sign–coincidence yet still poetic in a way? It could also say ‘you are leaving,’ depending on which side you stood on.

After the partying, after the vomit has dried up in the parking lot…you would look up at the sign. 

Stay or leave?

Most people remained and decided to settle and raise their families–just like Jin had planned. You and your two other brothers left for the city after college.

Your brothers came back often–especially Taehyung. He missed home a lot as his best friend still lived here. Although, he undoubtedly has less free time than your brother does nowadays.

Namjoon visited home every now and then–whether Vee was in the mood or not. More often than not, it was a solo-trip for him.

You, however? Tried to avoid home like the plague. Your parents, bless their hearts–would make the trek to come out to the city and see you and the children often.

You came home for the holidays but never stayed the night. It was always a day trip. You didn’t want to stay too long if you didn’t have to. Most of the time, you found reasons not to linger–you had way too many commitments to keep in the city so, it was easy for you to disconnect yourself.

This time, this visit was different. You had to come home and you had to remain here for an extended period.

For once, it was going to be hard to avoid him this time around.

So you decided to just bite that bullet–instead of trying to carefully plan a grocery run during odd hours or finding ridiculous alternate routes so as not to run into him anywhere in town.

A few more steps, you thought, and you’d be walking through that door again.

******

It was a little chilly out but the overall atmosphere indoors already started to warm your body and soul.

“Oh my god, YN?”

You looked over to your right and saw the woman whom you spotted in the parking lot, now coming out of the women’s bathroom, which was adjacent to the entrance.

“Hey,” you greeted her with a smile.

“Wow…You look great!”

You begged to differ. You glanced at yourself in the rearview mirror before stepping out. Decent enough to be out in public, based on your assessment, but far from looking ‘great,’ as she remarked. You thought she was just being nice.

Actually, everybody here was nice. Not nice because they needed something from you or were just saying it as an obligatory compliment. They truly meant it.

When you used to live here, it felt like everybody lived in a bubble–everyone knew everyone and their kids all went to the same elementary school and high school. It all just felt very familiar.

Perhaps everyone was just on their best behavior because so-and-so’s mom knew your mom and they were part of the same book club or carpool line so everyone was just scared of anything bad getting back to their parents?

Hmm…no–everyone was just nice. It was almost sickening.

“The big city does wonders, huh?”

You chuckled. “Hardly. But thank you, Naya. How’ve you been?”

“Good! As you can see, I married Jaeki,” she says as you both glanced his way. He gives you a small wave and you do the same in response.

“You know, I see your brothers here all the time but you, girl–you are a rarity!”

“Oh,” you smile sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s a bit hard for me to get out these days, you know–”

“I get it. We just had a baby four months ago so–this is quite a treat for us,” she says.

“Oh my gosh! Congratulations! We have got to catch up,” you say sincerely. 

“I would really love that, YN.” Her smile then quickly faded into a more serious, empathetic look. She gives your arm a gentle squeeze. “Listen, I’m so excited that you’re back but I’m so sorry that it has to be under these circumstances–”

“Kim YN,” a voice bellowed from the bar.

Your breath hitches as you look over Naya’s shoulder and spot him in the flesh.

Naya looks behind her and chuckles. “Well anyway–don’t make me wait years for that catch-up session, hm? Will you be in town long?”

You nodded. “Yeah. As long as necessary.”

She opens her arms and moves in for a hug and you close the gap between you two. She pulls back first and walks back to her husband. You gave her one last wave with the promise of reconnecting as you turn your attention back to the bar and take the next few steps towards an even older, more magnetic connection that you thought had ended years ago.

He waited patiently. Sleeves rolled up casually, palms resting flat on the bar surface–he looked completely relaxed while you nervously parked yourself on the stool right in front of him.

Once you were settled in, his lips slowly curved into that infectious smile that had been a constant presence most of your life. 

“Hello, sunshine,“ his voice was low but just as warm and comforting.

It makes your heart skip a beat. “Long time, no see.”

He chuckles. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

You gave him a small smile, trying your best not to enjoy this too much.

“So, what are you having?”

You feigned shock. “Wow. I’m getting served by the owner’s son himself?”

“Actually, I’m the owner now. Mom retired a couple years ago, after dad died,” he adds quietly.

You would have known that had you visited more often.

That was the last time that you saw him–which, technically didn’t even count. You paid your respects and even though he wanted to have a conversation, he was too overcome with grief so you used it as an excuse to slip away quietly back into the city.

“Are ‘congratulations’ in order then?”

He lets out a hearty laugh. “That depends on how you look at it. It just means that I have to pay for more stuff!”

The memories instantly start to rush back in. You wondered why you ever thought that your hometown was such a drag–when it had him in it–and this bright-as-sun laugh that made that cold, heavy heart of yours float up and out of its dark depths.

Your eyes did another quick scan of the place. “Lots of things have changed around here.”

“You should come out more often. It’ll look less drastic,” he gently teases while he sets a coaster in front of you.

“Oh, you know–it’s hard to get some free time.” Your eyes averted downwards as you fidgeted with the coaster.

“No need to explain, YN. I totally understand. By the way—I’m…sorry to hear about your dad. I ran into Jin-hyung earlier this afternoon. I’ve been meaning to stop by.”

You looked back up at him and gave him a tight smile. “I appreciate that, Hobi.”

“Is there—nothing else they can do for him?”

You sighed then shook your head gently. “He’s…been placed on a morphine drip. Jiminie and the hospice nurse said it could take a few days,” you shrugged. “It’s just a matter of making him comfortable and–being there for him.”

He gives you a small but warm smile. “He’s a good man. I’m glad to have known him in my lifetime.”

Before you could open your mouth again to give him your drink order, he was already grabbing a glass and slicing a grapefruit to start making you a greyhound cocktail. It was one of your favorite things to drink back then and this bar always made it with fresh-squeezed juice from the grapefruit tree that grew out back. 

You realized that you hadn’t had one in ages after he slid the glass towards you. Something about that bitter aftertaste reminded you of too many things. Things you’d rather forget. And you did, for a while…but now they were quickly making their way back into the forefront.

“On the house,” he says with a wink then quickly pouring himself a shot of soju.

He raises his glass to you, prompting a toast.

“To Kim Beomsok,” he says softly.

“To dad,” you say, clinking your glass to his, then taking a hefty swig of your drink.

It tasted absolutely refreshing—just as you remember it. You had only ever had them here, in his presence.

There were a few things about the city that would never measure up to your hometown. Safe to say this cocktail was one of them. 

Hobi smiles proudly as he hears you hum in appreciation. “So…how’ve you been?”

You chuckled exhaustingly but tried to keep it lighthearted. “I’m good.”

“Somehow, I have a hard time buying that,” he says with a knowing smile.

After all this time, he was still attuned to you. You could never get anything past him–it was no wonder that he and Namjoon became the best of friends. They were two of a kind, after all.

“Well…” you shrugged. “It’s a life, Hobi. I’m just taking it day by day,” you smiled tightly.

He nods, dropping the subject. Desperateto change the topic, you point out the new decor and other upgrades he’s made to the place.

“I wouldn’t take all the credit for it. Namjoonie has made some suggestions–one of many during some of his random trips here. Mom was reluctant at first but I said, we might as well try and catch up with the times. The bar is called Hangsang after all. And it’s our earnest wish to be open for…always,” he grins broadly while he stretched his arms out openly, gesturing at the space.

You laughed at that.

“Also…we’ve gotten some new customers since the place got a shoutout in Jaxon’s album. Leave it to your brother to drop some gems in a number one single.”

You inhaled sharply at the sound of Jaxon’s name. This means that Namjoon hadn’t told him yet.

“Yeah…that’s uh…Namjoonie, alright. Always down to namedrop childhood memories,” you smiled.

Just then, your phone buzzes with a text from Taehyung. It was a picture of Jooni and Joobin covered in flour as Yoojung bakes cookies with them and another photo of both kids playing Mario Kart with Jin, who had Jooni sitting on his lap. Big smiles on their faces, along with a text saying: Stay out as long as you want, noona. Team Kim FTW!

You giggle after reading the text.

“What?” Hobi asks curiously.

“Uhm–just–my kids,” you smile sheepishly at him, trying to hide your phone.

“Aw, c’mon! Show me those pictures. You know you want to,” he teases gently, wiggling his fingers in invitation.

Your kids drain the life out of you on a regular basis, for sure. But given the opportunity, you would talk about them and show them off to anybody who would listen.

With a chuckle, you unlock your phone and go through your camera roll. He marvels at how much they’ve grown. He’s seen them once or twice in passing and Namjoon has had a habit of putting photos of them as his lock screen background. It was always a conversation starter for him and Hobi…which then slowly and organically veers into questions about you.

For the next couple hours, you regale Hobi with anecdotes about your kids and rant about other random things like the mom group at Joobin’s school. You jumped from one subject to another. Words spilled out of your mouth as if floodgates had been opened. As if you had never uttered a word in years.

You talked so much and so animatedly that all he could do was smile and ask the occasional follow-up question.

He would barely get a word in before you started again but he didn’t mind. Not one bit. He stood there and indulged you–as if you were the only customer at the bar. He must have tipped off his other employees without your knowledge because there were certainly a couple other people–women, in fact, who tried to get his attention but another bartender or server automatically attended to them.

At some point, you ask him about his mom–who now apparently has found a great group of retirees and spends most of her time traveling around with them.

“Yeah–she called me last night saying that she was somewhere in Puerto Vallarta. She sends her best of course, after I told her about your dad.”

You sighed. You’ve spent countless afternoons in their home. Hobi’s parents used to own a huge minivan–well, it was huge for you at the time. They used it for carpooling when your dad had catering bookings or if he was short staffed at the restaurant. It helped that Jin, Namjoon, and Hobi both played in the same traveling soccer teams in the summer. She was happy to haul you and Taehyung along for the ride. She was just like your second mom.

The rides paused when Jin finally got his driver’s license…but then he started dating Yoojung and he didn’t really want you guys messing with his game. So it was back to the minivan routine.

Not long after, Hobi got his driver’s license and gave you, Namjoon, and Taehyung rides to school–in his parents’ old minivan, no less.

You reminisce with Hobi for the next couple hours. You talked about your current lives, your childhood…but glossed over everything else in between–especially those minivan rides. They held lots of memories for you. Many of them didn’t include your brothers.

******

You called home half an hour prior to check on the kids. Namjoon, who was still up, tells you that both kids were currently passed out but were thoroughly entertained.

You get up from your stool right before closing time, concluding that you’ve had enough time to sober up.

“You want me to drive you home?” Hobi offers as he rounds the corner from the bar and walks you out into the parking lot.

You declined politely. “Nah, I’m okay. I think the chicken wings and fries soaked up the rest of the alcohol,” you chuckled. “Feels like you’re still a bit heavy-handed with that pour, Jung Hoseok.”

He laughs heartily at the sound of his full name coming from you. “What can I say? Bartending was never my forte! It’s why I leave Yoongi-hyung in charge of that. I mostly run the business side of things.”

“And so how come you’re serving me and not him?” You jokingly asked.

He sighs wistfully before catching his lower lip with his teeth. “I thought it might be the only chance that I’d get to talk to you again. So I figured…I’d take it,” He smiles ruefully at you.

You choke out a breath but your mouth is completely dry. “Hobi–I…”

“Hey–we had a great conversation. That’s more than enough for me,” he says as he clutches his chest. He was being incredibly kind. You know that you pretty much monopolized that conversation. But he would never make you feel that way. Not Hobi.

You sighed as your heart clenched within you. You nodded as you bit your cheek. “Anyway, I–I have to go,” you mustered.

He bobbed his head up in acknowledgment.

“Listen–don’t be a stranger. Come by whenever…you know, if you want to see dad. I’ll be around,” you offer as a consolation.

He smiled broadly. “I’ll stop by during the day. I’ll make sure to call Namjoonie–”

“You can call me, too,” you interrupt carefully. “I can give you my number, if you want it.”

“S-sure, yeah.” He pulled his phone out and you exchanged phone numbers. It was nearing 1AM and you knew that you had to head back. That was enough solo fun for one night. 

Before your hand reaches for your car door, he holds his arms out to you for a hug. You hesitated for a beat but something compelled you to walk right into them. It was just a hug, you thought.

His arms encase you like a warm blanket in the winter. It felt undoubtedly familiar and achingly natural to you.

He sighs into your hair while you lingered in his warmth. You’re not sure how long you stood like that. In that moment, time was nonexistent.

You felt his heart thumping loudly while you pressed your cheek to his chest. At some point, one of you had to pull away. You decided that it would be you. No other words were exchanged except you thanking him cordially for the drinks and the conversation before driving away.

You gripped on your steering for dear life as you caught a glimpse of him in your rearview mirror.

You both thought that it was just easier to keep things that way…but easier for whom exactly?

******

“Didn’t know anybody was still up at this hour.”

You chuckle at your older brother as he crawls out of the bedroom window to sit next to you on the roof.

You see him eyeing the glass of wine and the bottle that you cradled between your legs.

Wordlessly, you passed the bottle towards him as he settled next to you.

He nods in gratitude before taking the bottle willingly. You watched him immediately uncork it and take a long swig, humming as the cold, light golden liquid makes its way down his throat.

“Rough day for you, too, huh,” you remarked.

“Eh. Can we skip me and talk about your day instead? Also, why are you drinking again? Didn’t you just come back from doing that?”

You chuckled. “Only a couple drinks. I didn’t go too crazy. Besides–the bartender cut me off early,” you said.

Namjoon’s eyebrows quirk up and his mouth makes an ‘o-shape’ as the look of realization dawns on him.

“Mmm-hmmm,” you dragged out. “Didn’t know that he ran the business now. You forgot to tell me that,” you look at him accusingly.

His grin was coupled with small traces of guilt. “I didn’t think that information was relevant to you.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Please, Namjoon.”

“YN…Hobi and I talk about lots of things when I’m in town. I can’t keep tabs on every new piece of information every time you and I talk.”

You sighed and continued to take a sip of your wine.

After a moment of silence, he asks in a low voice, “So…how did it go?” 

You lifted your shoulders. “We just…talked,” you said simply. “Just…about dad and…how much things have changed around here.”

“I think all of the changes seem more of a shock to you because you don’t come home as often.”

“Well, sorry, it’s really hard to do that in my situation, you know?” You tell him, slightly growing annoyed.

He backs off and raises his hands in defeat. “Point taken.”

“Any change with dad?” You switched subjects.

He shook his head. “Same. Just looks like he’s taking a nice nap. Kinda jealous of it,” he says with a hint of bitterness. “I was almost tempted to ask the hospice nurse if she had a shot for me.”

You nodded, understanding his own internal struggle.

“Victoria kept blowing up my phone today. Nonstop,” he began, as he slid his fingers underneath his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“Does she know you’re out here?”

“Nah. I don’t really feel like dealing with her right now–kind of like my work. I’d rather keep my problems in separate cities, if I can help it,” he says, taking another swig. “I called my lawyer while uh–while Jin-hyung and Taehyung were preoccupied with the kids. She tells me that they’ll serve Victoria the papers in a day or two. I’m just…just done with all of it, YN.”

You nodded. Even though you had encouraged him to try and save his marriage–ultimately, if it seems like a lost cause, there was no use in forcing it. At that point, it would be resentment holding you together instead of love.

“Have you told anybody else yet?” You ask, referring to the rest of the people in this house.

He shook his head adamantly.

“Joon, you have to tell them. They’ll ask questions–”

“I told dad,” he says sarcastically.

You rolled your eyes and head in an exaggerated manner. “I mean someone who is lucid enough to remember!”

“I told you.” He was being a smartass.

“Right. Because I’m in such a great position for that type of matter,” you spit out.

“YN…it was hard enough for me to come to this decision. I really don’t need everyone else on my ass about it. I just want it to be over with as quickly as possible,” he snaps, trying desperately to shove the topic aside.

“Namjoon,” you said his name firmly. “You are getting divorced. Why can’t you tell your family? There’s no shame in that.”

“I just want to avoid all the judgment and questions…” he trailed off. “That’s when shit starts to get complicated.”

“Ahh…” you smiled smugly. “I forgot that Kim Namjoon doesn’t do ‘complicated.’”

He turns his head towards you slowly, carefully eyeing you as you take a sip of your drink. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

You scoffed. “You don’t do ‘complicated,’” you repeated slowly. “It’s just not in your vocabulary. You like things laid out, with a clear goal in sight–then you go ahead and follow a straight path right to it. No side trips, no detours. Just point A to point B,” you said, gesturing your hand from one side to another.

When he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, you expanded a bit more.

“You wanted to move to the city, and you did. You wanted to be a music producer, you got in with the right people—and mind you, without mom’s influence, even though she insisted. You did that all on your own. Bought yourself a sweet condo in the middle of the city, and then married the girl of your dreams. You had your life all mapped out.”

He then laughs bitterly. “I think you forgot the part where said girl of my dreams ripped my heart out of my chest then stabbed it with the heel of her Louboutin.”

You took a heavy gulp of your wine and shook your head. “That’s beside the point, Joon. You flinch at the first sign of complication. You very, very quickly find the eject button and take yourself out of the situation. I mean, I guess that’s great to set those boundaries for yourself,” you mumbled.

“I just think I find it ironic that you’d work on a track all night and add a million layers of sounds and extra instruments which–I should add–nobody else except you would hear. And you’d keep doing that until you were completely satisfied. Why can’t you do that in your real life?”

Your brother sighed in exasperation. “I just…” he flexed his jaw. It was a force of habit that he’s done since you were kids. He did it when he was struggling to verbalize an uncomfortable thought.

“With music–I know that I can control it. You know–I can increase the tempo, switch up the volume–delete or create composites of things. But this–I…” he shook his head and tilted the bottle towards his lips and took a long drag.

Namjoon prided himself in keeping some form of control in his life. It’s why he’s been able to achieve success quickly. He would grow frustrated if any of his plans were derailed. Funny enough, as much as Namjoon chided your mother for being too focused on appearances, like it or not, he was the same way.

“I think you need your whole family’s support, that’s all I’m saying. That’s what dad would say.”

“What I need–” he grimaces, “Is to fast-forward to the point in my life where everything is okay again.”

You sighed heavily. “The people we want to stick around, won’t or can’t. And the ones we don’t want? We just shit all over them until they grow tired of us and they leave of their own accord. Rinse and repeat.”

“You’re just a ball of sunshine and rainbows tonight,” he says as he takes another swig of the bottle before regarding you carefully. “You wanted him to stick around, right?”

“Yep. But… life had to take a big steaming pile of crap on that,” you sighed bitterly.

Minutes later, a car pulls into the driveway across the street.

You see Hobi getting out of the driver seat. As he turns to lock his car, he catches a glimpse of you and Namjoon on the rooftop of your house. He does a little salute at both of you and you both wave silently before he ducks into his front porch, disappearing into his house.

Sighing deeply, you down the last bit of your wine. 

“You good here?” You asked Namjoon.

“Yeah. Gonna finish the rest of this. ‘Shame to waste good wine—that’s what dad always said.”

You chuckled softly in response as you started to crawl back towards the window. Right before you head back in, he stops you to give your arm a squeeze. “You’ll tell me if you’re going through something, right?”

You smiled back at him. You both considered yourself ‘middle children’ due to your closeness in age. People often mistook you for twins back then because you were in the same grade and took most of the same classes. His friends were your friends, your friends were his. 

It was great pretending to be ‘peers’ for a while. He didn’t even mind when you called him directly by his name. Only Jin-oppa was a stickler for honorifics. But every now and then, when the situation called for it, you’d acknowledge his age.

“Yes, oppa. Thank you,” you said as you softly kissed the top of his head. Shortly after you pull away, you scrunch up your nose. “Oof–you need a shower, bro.”

“Stop projecting your personal issues at me,” he snarks, which makes you laugh while you climb back into the window.

Minutes after you disappear inside, a black limousine pulls up at the front of the house. The lone passenger, dressed in a bespoke suit, steps out onto the curb and immediately acknowledges Namjoon up on the roof.

“Hyung,” he nods as a greeting to your brother.

He nodded back at him. “Hey, Sam. I’ll let her know you’re here,” he says to your husband.

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