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vitzi9 · 11 months

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Patience is the key to success (2)

Masterlist if you want to read my others things. Part 1 here.

CW/TW: yandere-manipulative-obsessive-stalker-ethan, fem reader, smut, no p in v, depressed reader(but really), suicidal thoughts

i'm trying to post this quick because I crave attention, whatever its insults, compliments, likes or repost, idc. I want ppl to know i'm existing. i have a big oral test tomorrow and im really bad at speaking before someone (hence why im writing instead) so i just need to know im not totally useless in the society and that im, at the very least, making people enjoy my things. sorry for the rant, i have a big headhache, probably gonna die ✌️😚

the smut is really bad btw but like really but im bad at writing them but i need to to improve (26/06/2023) (5226 words)

"Let's just finish watching the movie now." you say and Ethan doesn't make you repeat as he goes straight to the couch.

You felt much better after that little talk. Ethan did not say much but in his words, there was a lot more. He was planning to be with you a long time. He does not want to ruin things. It made you so happy. Every fiber in you was warm thinking of it. You were at peace.

Ethan was calm after that, albeit moving uncomfortably sometimes. (maybe because of his boner?) He was just as cuddly as when you arrived. His head laid flat on your chest, rising up and down with each one of your breath. Your fingers brush his curl slowly as you hear his breathing slacken. You were giddy thinking about him being at peace with you, too.

His arms were closed tightly around your body, never letting you go. The movie was really advanced by now, the end was coming soon. It probably was something towards 11AM. Usually, you would have gone knock at your friend's house but there was no need now as you already saw her earlier.

When the movie fatefully ended, the credits start to roll but none of you moved an inch. Ethan rubs his cheeks against your chest before sighing happily. His eyes were closed. Was he asleep ? No, certainly not. He loves horror movie. He wouldn't fall asleep when one is ongoing.

He was cute here. You were delighted to think he trusted you enough to let his guards down and sleep with you. You were his safeplace. And he was yours. Your fingers trail down on his back where you draw small patterns dreamily. You write things, that cross your mind. You simply scratch him. His sudden speaking startle you. Your hand stopping evey movements.

"Are you sleeping far from here, today ? Every movements of his jaw hitting slightly on your chest. 'today' because he knew about your frequent change of home.

Relaxing, you continue to caress his back lovingly.

-No, not really. But I don't sleep there anymore.

The hotel too was starting to worry you. Like the building was shrieking on you. You don't know what was scarier, to be alone or to never be. And now that you found such a warm place, you don't want to leave. Ever.

-Why ?

-Scare me, s'all.

-You can sleep here tonight, if you want.

-Why ? Your decision was already made; you'd sleep here. You knew it the second he offered you to stay the night. But you wanted to see his arguments to convince you.

"Let me be with you." his sentence made a shiver run down your back.

Did that stalker fucked you up so hard you had chill even thinking about them? It was just a damn sentence. Everyone can say it. For god's sake, it's Ethan saying it of all people. Even if he awoke this uneasy feeling back, you couldn't blame him. He didn't know about the sign the criminal had shown you. You didn't tell him that much detail, only saying they had indeed brought creepy signs but omitting what was written on it. And Ethan said it so prettily, too. Yes, of course you'd be with him.

He told you you never slept here before and that you'd be safe anyway since he's here and don't plan on leaving you. So you accepted. It was really early in the day but the both of you were getting sleepy because of the calm and comfort of the situation. He offered you to go to his room which you accepted. After guiding you to there, he tells you he has to go grab something and that he'd be back really quick.

And he did, in fact, came back really quick.

By then, you were already sprawled out on his bed. You had time to see the mess he had scattered everywhere. The carboard, the books, the drawings, some letters, too. And you even found out about his second phone. The lockscreen was a generic one, the one you have by default, as if he just got it recently. But the phone wasn't new, it seems in contrary really old as it was broken at some area.

Ethan arrives in the room with a small plastic blue square packaging, you don't have time to see what it was that he throws it under the bed. You don't pay it too much attention. Playing mindlessly with his other phone in hand, you take off and put back the phone case of it to entertain yourself.

"You got two phones ? you ask even though you kind of knew the answer already.

-Oh, yes. One is for games only, the other is the one I'm really using. Did you went on it ?

-No, don't worry, I won't frisk into your secret criminal life."

He smiles before taking the phone out of your hand. He places it in the drawer of his nightstand. Ethan falls on top of you, taking your breath away for a moment. You laugh and hit his back for him to get away from you and he just laugh heartly before letting himself fall beside you.

He lays down, setting his head on his arm, looking up at you with stars in eyes. Sometimes, he's so pretty it hurt physically to look at him. Starting to get embarrassed by his insistent look, you find something to say.

-Why do you have so much pieces of cardboard anyway ?

-I make placards out of them.

With a fond smile, Ethan stares straight at your eyes. As if waiting for you to say something. You would have ask questions about his 'placards ' if not for the sudden interest he was displaying in you, which, instead, made you change subject without really noticing it. A nervous laugh escaping you.

-Why are you looking at me like that ? Is there an undertone ? Am I supposed to understand something ?"

He shakes his head negatively, displaying a small mischievous smile. He could be such a goblin at times ! Wanting to make him swallow his pride, you lean towards him and kiss his lips. Ethan smiles and moves his lips with yours.

Your arm set down on his waist and soon the kiss get heated. Ethan's body is burning, his breath is too. You don't let each other breath, as soon as you separate from each other, you plunge back in. Physically needing the contact.

You rise on your knee, arching your back to kiss him still laying flat on the bed. Soon, he joins you by rising as well. Both of you on your knees, face to face, eating each other's face. Ethan's hand are mahandling you to sit on his thights. Then, with his surprising strenght, he starts sliding you on them. Your heating pussy rubbing directly on the fabric of his pant. Your hand instinctivly goes to rub the growing tent in his trousers. The area was hot, when you slide your fingers on it, it would budge.

Ethan whimpers, thrusting his hips against yours. You straddle him completly, framing his his body with your legs. You rub his tent against your clit for some frictions. It was aching and growing more desperate by seconds.

"I... I wanna have sex with you." Ethan says softly.

You kiss his cheek, going for his neck. You answer with a meek 'me too' before sucking the skin of his neck. Ethan backs his head, already out of breath. He gives you full access to his body, still rutting desperatly his hips into yours.

But you were growing impatient. You lift your body from him, making him whine at the contact loss, before sliding your fingers behind the elastic of his pants. You slip it down to his knees before you start salivating at the sight of his hard cock already drooling for you.

He didn't have any underwear. That's why you could feel him so close to your core.

Your hand touch his thight, caressing gently his body. Making sure to avoid the area he need you the most. Ethan try to touch himself, tired of your teasing, but you slap his hand away. He whines and looks up at you with teary eyes. Silently begging you to do something. It was impossible for you to resist him.

Your hand grabs his cock in one motion, you could feel it pulse and its warmth propagate in your hand. It was already so so wet because of all his precum, your hand was sliding so easily you could have thought he came multiple times already. Gently, you start to move your hand on all its lenght slowly. The boy props himself on his elbows and look at the scene before him. Ethan sighs happily, eyes closing and head backing. He's in heaven, he thinks. But not entirely, as he looks at you still clothed.

"Want to... Want to finger you..." he pleas.

In front of a boy so desperate, and being incredibly horny, you slide your pant down, making sure your underwear went with it. Ethan lose every one of his braincells when he sees your bare pussy glistening with your love juice. He wanted to lick it bad. That's the only one fanstam he ever had that help him getting off so hard he can't move for a whole minute. He wants to drown himself in your juice. But you have others projects.

You guide his pointer finger to your lips. Ethan starts caressing it and smear your juice everywhere. His lift up another finger and start passing both of them on your lips.

"Here, you have to touch here." you say, pointing to your clit.

You move briefly to bring your genitals closer. You could feel each other's warmth emanating from your core. Seeing him try to touch you was so hot. He was listening to everything you said.

Soon getting the hang of it, he starts circling your clit, applying different pressure on it to see which one were you reacting the most to. Slowly, you quicken your pace on his hard cock. As if to reward him for being such a good boy. He was in a trance, eyes closing and opening. And when they opened, they were staring with a utmost care at your moving breast throught your shirt. Your nipples were hard and were poking through the fabric.

His eyes were glued to it. Understanding his want, you lift your shirt above your collarbone with your free hand. Ethan can't seem to take off his eyes of you. They're probably the first pair of breasts he sees in real life after all.

"Fuck... You're so pretty, love." you speed up on his shaft at his praise. "Fuck, fuck...

-You can touch baby.

-I can?"

He stops all movements to your pussy, your frown but let him discover his needs. It was his first time, you needed to let him have a little fun. His free hand touch one of your breast, massaging it then weighten it in the palm of his hand. He smiles like an idiot, an idiot so cute you let him do what he wants with you. His other, wet, hand pinch lightly your sensitive bud.

Your free hand slap his arm to make him understand he did it too hard. He sends you an apologatic smile.

"They're like stress ball."

Amused by the weird comparison, your chuckle. Still impatient to come, you guide your hand higher on his cock to caress his tip and rub it. His face contorts in pleasure, browns frows and mouth ajar. His forehead fall on your shoulder while his fingers go back down near your entrance. His hips were thrusting into nothing but your hand. Obscene wet noises were resulted. You were hot, terrribly hot but so was he.

Ethan's small puff of breath sends chill in your body. His whimpers couldn't be replaced with anyone else. Your hand was all wet and sticky, as was his. Ethan decides to enter once again two of his digits in you. Your head falls back and you sigh happily at finally scratching that itch in you.

"Curl your fingers, E." you whisper.

He hums and do as told. Curling his fingers in you, he starts to thrust them in and out at a slow pace, adopting the same sensuality you used to jerk him off. You accelerate, your hand no longer lingering on the entire shaft. Sometimes, you'd stop completly to hear him whine. Your thumb caressing his cock's veins.

"Baby please..." he pleas.

Ethan starts kissing sloppily your shoulder, your neck. You, on the other hand, take his hand to guide the thrust of his fingers, angling them correctly for them to touch that spongy spot inside. His fingers were long and thin, that was a part of him you absolutly loved. You always had a thing for pretty hands and his were beautiful.

"What do you want, love? you ask tenderly.

-Tell me you love me..."

You nudge his hair with your nose and he looks up. Staring at his eyes, you see them wet with tears. You kiss him instantly. Playing with his tongue with yours, your hand moving faster and faster. You stop the kiss to tell him you love him and he bites his lips, eyes closing.

His breath is jerky, uneven. You press his palm against your clit, rubbing it while you push his fingers inside you again. You feel a knot tighten. You won't last long.

"Tell me you love me.

-I love you E, you're doing so good.

-Again..."

You said it as many times as he needed to feel better. His hips stuttters, his cock quivers. His words are slurred to each other, resulting in incomprehensible blabbering. You don't lose the rythm, keeping the same pace until he'd eventually come.

-Love you so..." he whines.

His body tense, his breath stops. You can only hear the wet sounds your hand is producing. He doesn't utter a sound until spurts of cum smear on your hand and belly. Feeling at ease, he moans a last time from relief and breath again.

You're not far behind. Ethan being pratically knocked out, you grind on his hand. You close your thighs around it, ensuring it stay inside. Your legs are shaking, wave of hot and cold invade you. You plunge his fingers inside but, to your surprise, Ethan regains control and start pounding into you to get you to your end.

He kisses your neck while you finally come on his fingers, sweaty and disvesheled. You swear one last time when he withdraws his fingers. You stay here for a while, just hugging , breathing and basking in each other's presence.

After some minutes, you decide to go shower together. You end up finally getting a good night of sleep, cuddled in his strong arms.

The next day, Ethan and you had a stupid satisfied smile on your face. Both happy to be here. You kissed and confessed your love to each other all morning until eventually he had to leave for work. Sadly, you had things to do, too. Ethan offered you to stay and sleep here for a few nights because he wanted to stay close to you.

You liked this idea. Of course you liked it, you love Ethan. And to convince you further, he told you his roomate wouldn't mind. So naturally you accepted. You were embarassed at the idea of bothering his roomate but you decided you would just sleep here, and the day, you'd let the apartment free. It was his too, after all. Not only Ethan's. There is no way you'd let someone feel excluded in their own house.

Grabbing your phone, you click on your friend's number. You call her, the ringing echoes three times and no one answer. Somehow begrudgingly, you resume yourself at simply sending a text. Just for you to instantly forgetting your sorrow as she answers. The discussion was quite simple, she was telling you she was at her grandma right now. She was bored and wanted to know how you were doing.

'I'm going back to my dear haunted apartment, probably gonna die. Wish me luck.' you texted. She put a little more time answering this one. It's possible it triggered something in her. After everything she endured. 'nobody will hurt you as long as i'm alive' she said. She simply changed subjects after that. Asking you about the cute guy you told her about in the letters. And so you explained everything. Every time you tried to offer to call her, she'd decline. You were still sad she didn't want to talk to you but you were telling yourself you needed to be patient.

On a happier note, you decided to leave the place to go to your own apartment.

To one point, you should have known better than be too happy about your improving situation. Of course, it was well too soon for you to consider everything better. But you were probably stupid because the fall hit you much harder than you could've prepared yourself for. Oh, the pain you felt when reality had finally caught you. You thought you were going to die when you came back home to simply grab some clothes. (Ethan told you to do so.)

Your door was ajar. But it wasn't your doing. No, of course it wasn't you. Your apartement terrified you, why would you come here more ofthen than needed ? You felt your body freeze but you quickly overcame the feeling. That's it. You needed it to end. This fucking stalker had ruined you. You and your life. You sent a text to Ethan, telling him that if you do not call him after twenty minutes, he needed to call the cops. He didn't answer. He was at work. It was well past eleven by now.

Your heart was beating so hard you thought it was going to collapse on the ground, and you with it. Slowly, aware of every sound around you, you push the door. Your livingroom was as messy as you had left it. At one difference, the wall. Every frame you had put up on the walls were thrown away. Most of them on the ground and broken, with shattered glasses everywhere.

Why would the creep empty the walls ? To write on it. Of course they would write on it. You laugh bitterly for yourself. You couldn't see their stupids fucking signs anymore, so they had to improve. To force you to read their creepy obsessive text. You hear the crushing of a broken piece of glass, as if someone had stepped on it. But it wasn't you.

You're on alert. Every one of your senses on crisis. Was your mind playing tricks on you ? It was possible in this hellish house who did nothing but give you nightmares recently. You don't realize how you stopped breathing. Only calming when three long minutes had gone without another sound to be heard.

Nothing is here. You're alone, you think. Everything is good. You'll just grab your stuff and leave. Regaining your breath, you bring your attention back on the wall. Words were written on it in deep crimson red. Is that blood ? No, it can't be. Probably paint to give a creepy look that'll catch your attention. You approach the wall to better understand the message.

'She's not here anymore'

The need to throw up almost won. A dark feeling in your guts was telling you 'she' was your friend. But you didn't know. She responded to you, after all. You talked to her. So she had to be okay. She had to. You put your hand on your belly to soothe that want to vomit. You take big breath before finally leaving the livingroom. You quickly make your way to your room where you meet your bare bed. Where are your sheets ? What the hell ? But you don't want to stay longer so you throw clothes in your bag in a hurry.

The front door slam shut. And you know it's the end.

You already feel the tears drowning your sight. Trying to stay silent, you hide in your closet almost empty with how many times you came here to grab clothes. Your hand clasp against your mouth to avoid doing any noise.

Slow footsteps can be heard in the empty apartment. With your shaky hands, you fail to unlock your phone. Your vision is blurry, you can't touch the correct keys. The worst is that you can't see where the creep is. If they stay silent, they can enter the room you're in without you even noticing. And this idea is horrifying. But on another side, you'd preferred them to kill you by surprise so you don't have to affront them.

Your cries intensify, in your despair, you drop your phone straight on the ground. The footsteps stops abrutly. Three distincts knocks are echoing on the corridor's wall. They are coming toward you. You're fucked. They're coming ! What do you do ? What did you do ? Why is this happening ?

Kneeling like you could in the closed space, you reach your hand to grab your phone. As soon as your finger grazes it, the phone vibrate and your ringtone start playing for the whole building to hear. No, no, no, no, no ! Ethan. Ethan is calling you. You pick up despite everything but as soon as you do so, the call is cut short. Fuck E, why would you do that !

The criminal's footsteps are louder, quicker, heavier. They're running. They're running here ! You hold the closet door shut with your both hands, praying for your life. You only have knives in your kitchen, but it's too late now. If you go out, they'll see you. You realized at that moment that whatever you were doing, you couldn't win. That you never even stood a chance against them.

Everything was illusion.

Nothing was improving, you knew it, in fact. You were lying to yourself, searching comfort in a man that don't even understand the dept of the problem. Of your problem. And your friend ? You don't want to talk about her. You don't want to open your eyes just yet. You just want to live in your nice little lies you made up for yourself. You're nice with them, in fact, you like them. Nobody wanted to help you anyway. They could have saved you, you and her, but nobody listened.

Now, it's too late.

The closet start to shake. Widening your eyes, you realize that the creep had start to punch it with their bare fist. You don't give a fuck about being heard anymore, you're bailing your eyes out. Begging for them to let you go, screaming, yelling, calling for help. Holding the door for dear life as if it was going to save you, because in your head it was. But the door didn't last long.

A hole is quickly created in the door. You thought you'd see someone's face, wether it be a man, a woman, whatever. But you saw a white plastic mask instead.

Ghostface.

Why was a damn Ghostface chasing after you? Was it all a sick joke from the start ? You swear you were seeing his eyes boring into yours through the mask. You swore you already saw them somewhere. Ghostface tilts their face to the side, as if mocking you. They were telling you that you were stuck, that it was the end. You hoped they'd kill you.

You couldn't live like this anymore.

In the hole of the closet, Ghostface pass his gloved hand. The latter lay on your shaky face, on your cheek to be exact. You feel the fabric against your skin and think of biting his fingers off. No, you'll angry him. If he's going to kill you, that it be in the least painful way.

"Ethan, right ? Does he treat you so well you forgot about me?" his changed voice said. A weird and creepy robotic voice, one you knew you'd never forget.

You were moving your head left to right. You didn't know why. Probably to tell you didn't want to die, probably to avoid looking into his eyes. He laughs, sounding like a rumbling.

"Ending things right now would be such a waste."

No ! You thought you were finally free ! Why would he chases you down for so long without acting on it !? His gloved hand retract and the door slowly open in an acute creaking. The man is finally revealed before you. He was wearing the whole outfit, the big black robe and the hood.

"It was fun. I give you a gift to reward you for these beautiful screams."

And the knife.

He had a knife in hand. And it was tinged red. Something in you told you it was her. Suddenly, the red writings on your wall had a different meaning.

"I hope you like it, I worked extra hard for it."

Out of nowhere, Ghostface takes your hand, force it open, and lay in it something before forcing it closed. He laughs deeply. One of his hand pat your head mockingly before moving up.

"See you later." he said, swinging his knife in a playful manner.

You were absolutely paralyzed. You didn't know what happened. You stayed up without moving for whoever say how long. When your legs finally stopped shaking, you decided to look what the killer had gave you. Slowly opening your hand, your knee buckle and you fall to the ground crying silently at the sight of a nip of your friend's hair.

You curled up on yourself before completly laying down on the ground, tightening the hairs in your hand close to your heart. She was not here anymore. You wanted to fucking die.

Ever since, Ethan was forgotten. He had tried to call you so many times you had blocked his number. You spent the rest of the day crying in your hotel's room. You resented him. So hard. He didn't answer, he was the one calling and giving your position to a fucking criminal, to a murderer! And he didn't answer. He didn't help, like everyone else.

One day later, neighbors complained about a smell coming from an apartment. You didn't cry when they found your friend's dead body. You didn't cry when cops came to interrogate you. The caretaker having told them about you. Your eyes contained so much hatred in them when looking at him the cops had to let him leave to get him away from you. You didn't cry telling the cops how many times you went to see them to ask for help, nor how many times did they reject you. You didn't cry when they told you she was dead for at least a week, and that her boyfriend was missing. You had no tears left in you. It had simply ended you.

All your lies, every single one of them, destroyed. But you needed them. Of course you weren't talking to her by text, you never did. And fuck, you don't even want to know who was answering instead of her. It was so obvious how she never wanted to call, how she was never leaving her house. But the eye you saw at the peephole. The fucking eye...

You don't want to think about it.

Ethan tried to talk to you. He went to your hotel and found you. You didn't bother to move this time as you were done with your life. He fell to his knee and started begging and crying for your forgivness. Did you even love him ? Or were you, are you, just lonely ? Unfortunately, you decided to forgot the anger you had against him when you realized he was the only thing you had. Your only support. The only one knowing you were a victim. You spent the days crying in his arms.

"Shhh, shhh, I'm here, love. It's okay." he reassured you, again.

It was a routine, now. You'd sleep the days away and when you'd wake up, you'd find yourself crying inconsolably. Everything was your fault, you kept repeating in your head. She's fucking dead because of you.

You wanted to end it all but Ethan wanted you alive at every cost. He was brushing your hair, feeding, washing and changing you. You were a lifeless doll. Sometimes, his roomate would come and talk to you. Most of the times, you don't even realize he's talking to you, too lost in your thought to proceed his presence.

"It's okay, everything's okay."

Ethan hugs you firmly. Kissing your hairline. His t-shirt was damped. Your eyes were burning. Every time you closed them, the picture of your friend would come and haunt you, a new nightmare coming. You weren't able to think about something else anymore. But it was your fault. You put her in danger, you got her killed. It was you Ghostface wanted, not her. You got her killed.

"I want to leave..." you whispered in a voice so hoarse, so weak, it didn't sound like yours. His hand goes on the back of your head to pull you towards him.

"No, no my love. It's okay. I'll protect you. You won't be alone anymore." his leg goes over yours and crushes them to prevents you from moving.

Alone.

Have you ever been alone in your life ? No, he was here all along. He was watching you all along. You never were truly alone. He had your adress, your friend's adress, your number and even Ethan's name. No, he's always here. Lurking.

"Just... Stay with me, I'll protect you. Please, don't leave me." he begs.

He looked calm, surprisingly calm being given the situation. But you needed it, in a way. If he doesn't freak out, you don't need to. (you coudn't, even if you wanted to) He probably know what to do. It was too late for you but he could do something. Maybe. His behaviour was slightly comforting. It was dangerous, mostly for him. He probably didn't even know what he was doing, he probably didn't know what he was getting himself into, in fact.

But once, just for once, you wanted to be helped. You wanted someone to listen to your pleas. He was going to die, it was a fact. And yeah, maybe you were selfish, you were condamning him after all.

"I feel like I'm using you. Like I manipulated you. you say, mostly for your own conscience than for his safety.

-Use me, love. I don't care. Manipulate me, whatever. I swore I'd help you. And if I have to risk my life doing it, I'll do it. I love you. You don't know the things I'd do for you.

-Now, you're the one manipulating me...

It was true. He was forcing you to think you had a chance in getting out of this situation when you knew there were none.

-Oh baby, you have no idea how manipulative I can be to obtain what I want.

-If you say so." you whisper, drifting to sleep once again, knowing you'd wake up hours later in the same position, in the same problem and knowing you killed your friend.

#ethan landry #ethan landry imagine #yandere ethan landry #ethan landry x gn reader #yandere imagine #yandere ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x reader #yandere #yandere boy #yandere x reader #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x y/n #vitzi9writings

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meanbossart · 2 months

Note

So, not sure if you've covered this. But I thought I'd ask. How do you feel about the durgetash subtext? Are you pro or against? How do you treat the "relationship" / "partnership" between them? I'm curious to know how their interactions would play out hahah. (Im very pro Durgetash, cause... well. Yeah.)

First of all, obviously I'm all for people interpreting subtext however they wish to interpret it, and I think there's more than enough in the game to imply a canonical romance between The Dark Urge and Gortash; some of my favorite artists on here delve into that and I think both their art and theories are brilliant. Especially as the canon stands now, I think it's more likely that they DID have something going on rather than not, though I doubt Larian will ever confirm it one way or another to allow the player freedom with their avatar's background.

That said, in the lore I decided for DU drow they did NOT have a romantic relationship, although they did have a complicated one. My first impression upon meeting Gortash at his coronation (this was long before all the dialogue Larian added) was of someone who wanted desperately to butter me up to get his plans back on track. Yes, I do think he was happy to see the drow, but that's because he knew DU drow would honor their initial agreement (had his memories not been erased, at least) and was indeed more reliable than Orin - who clearly wanted to achieve things on her own instead of entertaining their alliance even before betraying her brother.

I did a write-up a while back on what DU Drow's perception and plans for Enver were here, but I would like to make some additions!

First of all I didn't clarify this, but when I talk about "love" in that post I did not mean the romantic kind. What DU drow had for Gortash was a tenderness that he could not bring himself to entertain in earnest because of his profoundly skewed sense of empathy and emotions. He did relate to Gortash, He did admire how he had lifted himself up from nothing and how he easily brushed off DU drow's attempts to get under his skin. DU could simply never admit such a thing or even recognize it in himself - had he been a more sane man they would have been dear friends, and there would be glimpses of that could-be friendship in how they interacted before. Gortash was probably equal parts annoyed and charmed by the Bhaalspawn's high eccentricity, his gaudy style and extreme bluntness and shamelessness- he thought he was fascinating enough to put up with his attitude, not to mention that he was reliable and got things done when he set his mind to it.

(More under cut)

Alas, DU Drow wasn't raised to entertain friendship or tenderness whatsoever prior to getting a clean reset to his brain - this doesn't change the fact that he is, by nature, a very intense man, and those emotions had to come out in one way or another. Hence his weird preocuppation with Gortash and how he made him feel. He is primed to become extremely conflicted in his feelings towards anyone who sticks around in his life as anything but a pawn or a victim, and Enver constantly tried to pose himself as a friend - arguably a even more baffling concept to DU drow than if he wanted to be a lover - because then he would at least be seeking out sex from their interpersonal exchanges. This is also why a lot of DU drow's focus when insulting/trying to torment him would have been sexually charged, besides a simple desire to shock and objectify himself and others as sacks of meat to be fucked and killed.

But Gortash grew up in literal hell, I think his capacity to withstand abuse from others (and swiftly brush it off) would have been extremely well honed, especially if it will ultimately get him what he wants. He never flinched at the guy's constant allusions to perversion and cruelty, likely rolled his eyes at it even lol. This would have been very disarming to DU drow and kept him coming back for more, and fostered (along everything else I mentioned) the admiration brought up in-game in that one letter durge writes to Bhaal. That letter would have been a very rare moment of clarity and introspection between DU drow and his father - perhaps the only entity he could ever disclose this kind of conflict to, much like a man having a crisis of faith is still likely to turn to the very god he's doubting for comfort.

I haven't yet decided how Gortash felt towards him, though, besides the aforementioned fascination mixed with irritation. I do think that after being tad-poled, when DU drow shows up in his coronation room looking so dramatically different from the man he knew (hair unkempt, clothes reduced to their practicality, shell shocked stare, the absence of his usual, lecherous grin) he would have thought what a shame that was, that this relentless beast he knew would never allign himself with someone beneath his caliber, often to the point of being unreasonable, had squandered his own ambition and was now in such meager company lol like he's got this half-elf girl just short of hanging onto his arm, this squishy wizard that he would have chewed up like hide in his teeth once, and the smug little elf? That's just his type, but the man Gortash knew had eyes for no one but his sister - regardless of how often he tried to warn him of her duplicitous nature. Ohhh what a mess she made of him, he wishes he remembered anything so he could at least say I told you so.

#ask #du drow lore #enver gortash #bg3 spoilers

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boosari · 10 months

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biggest worries — h.j

pairings: joshua x reader (vernon is also present)

genre: angst (with a drop of fluff)

warnings: mentions of bullying victim (if you experience any of that, please do not stay silent), reader is an over thinker, drinking (wine), one curse word.

wk: 1.7k

summary: you're finally ready to confess your deep love for Joshua with a lot of overthinking. However, your worries were nothing compared to the real problem.

Love is beautiful, love is caring, is being happy, is being intimate, love is trust, passion, commitment.

Love is beautiful,

as beautiful as cruel.

You've experienced love. Since young age, you have loved. Since you were a high school student, where people would judge you, regardless of how you looked, how you behaved, what particularities you had, your flaws, even your qualities.

You were judged. You were belittled, insulted and made fun of. Like you were some kind of joke to people. You didn't expect so much cruelty when you started high school.

It made you suffer, indeed. It made you feel oppressed, like you weren't enough, like something was wrong with you. You always tried to stay strong, tried to ignore, the ignorance of the people. Because you knew that you were better. You knew you were not like them.

And there he comes. He, who helped you when you were crushed by the words of those unfeeling people. He who smiled at you, who always stood by your side, who always stood up for you.

That's when you understood what love was like. What love felt like.

'Is this love?' Was what you thought.

An emotion, so deep, so tight, so sharp and unavoidable towards someone. So this is what it feels like.

It made you warm, beat your heart faster. It made you feel heat in your cheeks, sometimes all of your face. He would just look at you while smiling. His sweet, sooth voice ringing in your ears made you love him more each day. His soft features, full brows, sharp, yet elegant eyes, small polished nose, and prominent lips. Made you fall in real love.

Joshua was always kind with you. He was the sweetest person you've ever met since you started school. He would always greet you, smiling, making his eyes almost, almost disappear.

After he defended you, no one bothered you anymore. And you were grateful. You wanted to return the favour. And you were doing it by loving him. That's what you thought.

That feeling has never changed, except for the fact that it increased even more. You're now a senior, near graduating. You still love Joshua, more than ever.

And you were planning on finally confessing your love to him. It's been four long years. He always made you feel comfortable, safe and loved. He always treated you right, always been sweet, with his words and actions. You often hanged out, and had good times together. You always smiled when you were with him.

"What if I mess up?" The nervousness in your voice couldn't get passed unnoticed by your friend Vernon.

Vernon is another amazing friend of yours. You became friends in 10th grade. He is a common friend of you and Joshua. He also is the only one who knows about your big crush on his friend.

Vernon sighs, rolling his eyes for the nth time today.

"You're overthinking Y/n".

He's right. You are. But you have good reasons for it.

"You can't blame me Nonie. You know how I am" You reply bothered, banging your head against the kitchen table.

"It's simple, Y/n. You have liked him for years now, you have to tell how you feel. If he feels the same, boom, you date". He gestures with his hands.

"And what if he doesn't?" You raise your head, a small pout on your lips.

"Well, then you will stay friends? I guess?" He tilts his head, making a weird face.

You giggle at him. "I honestly wouldn't mind that. I would feel sad, yes, but he is a good friend. He makes me feel safe, that's everything i need from him. Just being a good friend". You stare at blankly at the table.

It's true. Joshua is a good friend of yours, aside from being the boy you love. Staying friends with him didn't bother you, if you got rejected, you just hoped to stay the same. For him to stay the same. To be the same Joshua who would always smile, who would always listen to you and give you advices.

Just a good friend.

"But what if the confession will ruin everything? I mean, if I get rejected, will he change? What if I ruin our friendship? What if he gets distant? What if he-"

Your rambling is interrupted by your friend's voice.

"Y/n. Knowing Joshua, I think he would probably reject you politely. Nothing between you two would change if you ask me". You watch your friend getting up and opening your fridge.

"Wow, you really need to do some grocery shopping" He mumbles, staring at your almost empty fridge.

You let out a small laugh. "Yea, I really should".

Vernon grabs a bottle of wine, probably one of the last things left in your fridge, closes it and proceeds to take two glasses from the cabinet on top of the sink. He makes his way back to the table.

"This is what you need right now" He smiles, showing you the wine bottle. You keep watching your friend pouring the liquor in the glasses.

"Okay, let's have this drink, a cheers to you and Joshua? Hmm? How about this, you'll call him, later, or maybe tomorrow, whenever you're ready. No need to rush. You will ask him to hang out, like you mostly do, and will confess. Okay?" Your friend calmly states, pushing one of the glasses towards you as he picks the other.

You smile warmly at him and nod, picking up your glass as well. You both raise it and chin, before drinking.

Your phone suddenly feels heavier in your hands which are shaking lightly as you breathe heavily.

What if I ruin everything?

You close your eyes and sigh.

"You can do this. Just like every other time, it's not the first time you hang out Y/n" You mumble to yourself, before taking a deep breath and scrolling through the contacts.

You bite your lip nervously before clicking on Joshua's number, putting the phone on your ear.

After two rings, he picks up.

"Hello?" his sweet voice echos through the line, you squint your eyes.

"Hi Joshua" you reply, trying to hide the nervousness in your trembling voice.

"Hi Y/n, everything okay?" You could feel his smile through the phone.

"I'm good, thank you. I uhm, wanted to ask you if you wanted to hang out one of these days.." You were now walking back and forth in your room.

"Sure, why not? When would you like to?"

"How about...tomorrow? By the park near your house at 6?" You bite your nails.

"Okay then, it's settled. See you tomorrow Y/n" Through the line, you hear some wind and a car pass by. He probably wasn't at home, you thought.

"See you" You mumble before hanging up.

As soon as you hang up, you let out a long breath, putting a hand on your chest.

You regain yourself and walk to the kitchen, feeling a bit hungry. It was late, but a night snack won't hurt right?

Opening your fridge, you see nothing except some eggs, few apples and a bottle of water. You groan, remembering Vernon's statement of few days ago.

You close the fridge, making up your mind. You walk to your room and put on a light jacket. You grab your wallet, keys and walk to the door. Time for some late night grocery shopping.

As you walk out, you get on the elevator and pull out your phone. You send a quick massage to Vernon.

y/nssi

Hey, I called Joshua, we're meeting tomorrow.

Vernon almost immediately replies.

chew

You go girl 🫵

You smile and shake your head. The elevator door opens and you exit, making your way to the nearest grocery store.

Thankfully, there was one 5 minutes away. You get in and look around, walking through the isles. You get some veggies, some fruits, other ingredients, some instant ramen, and some sweets, such as chocolate, cookies, and strawberry milk.

You make your way to the counter and pay. Putting everything in the plastic bag, you smile and great the cashier before getting out.

You sigh and start walking home. While walking, you raise your head and notice two figures standing at the side of the road. You squint your eyes, one of them was a bit too familiar. His silhouette, his outfit, the way he was standing, the outlines of his hair. Everything was too familiar.

"Is that Joshua..?" you mutter to yourself.

A small laugh suddenly rings in your ears and your eyes widen.

It was him.

He wasn't alone tho. Tangled with his laugh was another, of a female. You look at her, you don't recall anything. You probably didn't know her. She was beautiful tho, even in the dark, you could see her pale, cotton coloured skin, her smooth hair, her double eyelids, small nose and full lips.

You kept looking at them, they looked very close.

She looks up at him, still smiling, before getting on her tiptoes, her lips touch his.

She kissed him.

Joshua pulls her close, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Captured by the moment, you didn't notice that the plastic bag you were holding dropped.

You freeze, not being able to move. Your eyes are wide. You feel the cold breeze hit your face. Your heart aches, breaks into pieces. It was painful, it was ripping your chest.

You suddenly feel a salty taste in your mouth, and only then you realise that tears were streaming down your face.

You get back to reality, crouch down and pick up the bag before running away.

You didn't care if he noticed, you didn't care if he saw you. You just kept running, the tears weren't stopping, the ache wasn't either.

It was hurting. Your heart was hurting.

You were sad, miserable, you felt pathetic.

But most of all, you felt disappointed. You were disappointed in him.

You knew each other for years, and never even once he dared to mention about her. Why would he do that? Why?

Maybe it was your fault? Maybe you should've asked? Maybe he didn't want to tell you..? Maybe they just met each other..?

No, you knew Joshua. He wouldn't kiss a girl he just met. They probably knew each other.

Shame on him.

He always acted nice and sweet, always cared for you, always made you happy. He always gave you hints, gave you hope.

Everything was fake. Everything was an illusion. And now you're here, a crying mess. Your legs moving on its own, hoping to reach home fast. Your head hurts from all the thinking.

You worried, you were concerned, you always though about him, about your relationship, your friendship. You were worried about confessing, being rejected, about ruining everything. About loosing him.

You didn't want to blame him, but there was no one else to blame.

Your thoughts, assumptions, your biggest worries weren't even a problem...

The real problem was totally another.

Love is beautiful, indeed.

But it's cruel as fuck.

a/n: gosh i love angst. i love making myself (and you🫵) suffer heheh...by the way, i honestly don't even know how i came up with this, just thought for a moment and as we know joshua is our gentleman, sweet soul. but i wanted to make it a little sad so here it is. i hope you guys enjoy :)

masterlist

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #seventeen joshua #svt joshua #joshua hong #joshua imagines #joshua x reader #joshua x you #hong joshua x reader #seventeen angst #svt angst #boosari

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redgirlfailure · 10 months

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People who don't understand that Shiv loves Tom are so annoying to me. Did you even watch the show? She did want to marry an "inferior" man because she couldn't think of going through life the way her mother did (even though she was rich). She did think Tom was not good enough for her in power sense, but not in emotional sense. Shiv knew Tom was too good for her and that meant that he was too weak for her. She loved him for that. Him being the first one to show love, to open up, to do the vulnerable part.

Shiv was protecting herself of being defined as an emotional woman. Because being emotional is weak, being a woman is weak. She was watching that her whole life. The whole "stonehearted" mask and bitch attitude are just her baby cries for her father's validation. She was just trying to "fix" the fact that she is a woman, never seen, never taken seriously. Shiv was just desperately trying to be her father's number 1 boy. The men have right to have a moment of weakness. People forget that a woman doesn't have that privilege. She was just a baby. She was just a child. She was just a girl. But she couldn't bear being a woman. Not in this kind of world. Not with these rules.

Shiv has witnessed a "weak" man's succession. Tom is the "weak" winner. Shiv is the "strong" loser (even though she didn't really "lose"). He is a man. She is a woman. And that is all that matters. She finally realized that. But there is this irony in not loving yourself. Shiv loved herself. She just didn't love the way she was treated for being herself. If she wasn't so busy fixing who she was, she would have seen more of what she can be.

Yes, Shiv does love Tom. More than she even acknowledges and understands. But she can't stand the submission it takes. Even if she knows it doesn't matter. It matters to her. She is her father's daughter. And dear god, the awful force of him was in her. In her! She feels it, the love. She is just not capable of showing it. And she tries. You really see her trying throughout the seasons (especially season 4). But it is all so fucked up for her.

Her sarcasm, her little insults. Her forced cruelty. Out of all of the Roy children, she is the one resembling Logan the most. There is not a single thing she loved she wouldn't kick to see if it would crawl back. She is just a broken child. She is just his Pinky. Indeed, the poison drips through...

#succession #spilled ink #alone with my thoughts #female writers #spilled thoughts #writerscommunity #writing #shiv roy #succession hbo #hbo #sarah snook #tom wambsgans #matthew macfadyen #august #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #love

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bethanydelleman · 6 months

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Online Discourse, Redemption Arcs, and Jane Austen

There is a story in the Bible where Jesus is brought a woman who has cheated on her spouse. The officials ask Jesus what to do, he knows they are trying to trick him into breaking the law with mercy, so he says, "Go ahead, throw rocks at her until she dies, that's the law, BUT whoever has never done anything wrong throws the first stone." Eventually everyone leaves and Jesus forgives the woman.

This post I shared a while ago really makes me think of that story, because online commentary of characters seems to so often break into two groups:

People so unforgiving, so unwilling to allow a single misstep in a character that they would start throwing stones immediately

People who will twist themselves into knots to prove that everything the character did was justified (and since we have zero backstory for the unnamed woman in this story, it would be easy to give her a sympathetic one. She did it because of trauma!)

Let's apply this to Emma Woodhouse. At Box Hill, she mildly insults an older woman, it is a poorly timed and placed joke:

“Oh! very well,” exclaimed Miss Bates, “then I need not be uneasy. ‘Three things very dull indeed.’ That will just do for me, you know. I shall be sure to say three dull things as soon as ever I open my mouth, shan’t I? (looking round with the most good-humoured dependence on every body’s assent)—Do not you all think I shall?” Emma could not resist. “Ah! ma’am, but there may be a difficulty. Pardon me—but you will be limited as to number—only three at once.”

There are basically two reactions to this insult: BURN EMMA AT THE STAKE and Eh, not that bad. Now I think with this particular insult, it really wasn't that bad and we are told about the surrounding extenuating circumstances that caused Emma to slip up. However, I'm probably wrong because Emma does feel guilty and she does make amends. While she does not directly apologize, it's clear in the novel that what she did was a relationship repair.

What makes me feel like a crazy person is how many people throw first stones! How many people are SHOCKED by what Emma said and they could NEVER imagine insulting Miss Bates in such a cruel way! Get over yourself! I feel fairly certain that every human being on earth over 25 had insulted someone to the same level as Emma has insulted Miss Bates. That doesn't mean it is excusable, Emma should apologize and so should we, but I'm left amazed by how many people feel blameless in the face of this extremely human and relatable error.

And yes, it makes me wonder about forgiveness in their real lives. There are some things that I believe could be hard and fast "never forgive" rules, like your SO should never hit you, but people make mistakes. We should have room for forgiveness, we should understand circumstances. People get tired and sick and angry and overwhelmed and sometimes they screw up. It makes me wonder if this is an online persona effect, where we never show our negative sides, or is this a true opinion. Do people forget their own mistakes?

There also seems to be this idea that once someone has done something once, it's already a pattern even if the novel is full of counter-evidence. Emma is very polite throughout the novel, she endures people that annoy her a lot, she is endlessly accommodating with her father, but a single insult to Miss Bates and people start retroactively making her worse. When she visited that poor family she must have been insulting them! (Nope) Suddenly she becomes a villain through and through, instead of a normal girl who made a few mistakes.

That's not even getting into the real "villains" of Austen's works. The amount of people who tell me that Lydia (16), Henry Crawford (probably 24), Mary Crawford (22-24), Willoughby (25), and so on and so fourth ARE INCAPABLE OF CHANGE and will never improve. Like excuse me? Have you not changed and improved since you were 16-25? How early do you give up on people? Do you really think a young adult is fully formed?

Is this how you think of people in the real world too?

#redemption #jane austen #mostly about emma #emma woodhouse #emma #It terrifies me the lack of forgiveness and understanding that I see online #And it makes me wonder what happened to the concept of forgiveness.

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cherryberg · 7 months

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HI OK I HAD A MOMENT TO THINK ABOUT IT, THIS IS ABOUT YOUR TEN 17776 POST.

i was talking to my bf about it. and he broguht up that ten is 'rude' at points. and that made me think.

people perceive ten's bluntness as her being like. mean or snarky? even though juice's entire intoduction is him insulting nine

like. juice is meaner than ten, ten is just serious.

i think in part because ten is female aligned, people view her bluntness as much *harsher* than it actually is - and since we live in a male focused world, a woman being rude is her worst sin. does that make sense

anyways. ten i love you

god forbid a woman does fuckin' anything, man

for a good chapter or so, i also perceived juice to be rude Because of his introduction, but ten being rude has never been a defining trait of hers to me. definitely blunt and stubborn, yes, but not rude. i partially wonder if how ten writes changes the way she's perceived, properly compared to juice's lax style of speaking ("Juice can do it because he’s European. You and I are NASA, born and bred. We have standards." 20020, Chap 4), and with it making her casual speak stick out like a sore thumb ("… listen, Nine, are you going to keep doing this? Is cross-talk just your … deal? Want to shut up for even a second?" 17776, Chap 1) - but yeah can't forget that, because she is female-aligned, people will probably, unintentionally or not, read her ruder than she is or have it stick to them more that she is rude. that isn't to say she's not not rude - she has her fair share of "Shut up"s ("Shut up. Shut. Up." 17776, Chap 1. "Shut the fuck up." 17776, Chap 13) - but god forbid women be abrasive

the line i brought up in that original post ("He’s the fun one, and by default, I’m the boring one." 20020, Chap 7) makes me nuts. juice is the fun one so BY DEFAULT ten is the boring one, and she knows this. it's so aligned with how people treat her, coupled onto the fact that she is indeed the "girl satellite". and it drives me nuts when people further the wedge on how different juice and ten is because juice is intensely goofy (an example being putting a period before juice dialogue but not for ten, when all have periods before their dialogue in videos - it's just a formatting thing!). especially when nine is the middle ground, and is more open to juice's shenanigans, it emphasises the stricter, more serious light on ten, which might be emphasised further by fans because, by default, she is the boring one

and it's not like ten doesn't have any whimsy herself. she does speeches and has calls with human friends and watches the sun rise, even if it is just a speck, and is great at handling the camera and changes the direction of her text to go up and makes mistakes that kills billions of people and "Yes you do, buddy." and she loved that light bulb and loves people and earth and loves her sibling, who is both older and younger than she is, and loves juice, despite it all. she loves her friends, and she loves football

even in real life, do you know how interesting pioneer 10 is? the first outer planetary mission? to jupiter, no less! there are Real Life Monetary Coins made of her, man - someone get me a 2009 $1 Australian gold coin with a space probe Pioneer 10/11-type on the back please!

i dunno, this is all just ramblings. don't take this as me hating juice, i love that guy. but i also love ten. more people should like ten #women #girl

#textberg #askberg #kitsumo #17776 #20020 #pioneer 10 #my art #other art #btw i do love your ten design .. she's so birds :]#and her little rtgs as ears and the magnometer trailing behind her #so cool

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kuzann · 5 months

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The Last Letter

@schnuffel-danny approached me with a delightful premise for a Vlad/Jack fic and here's the result! 💜 Had an absolute blast writing this!

Also on Ao3!

Summary

Vlad at last receives a love letter from Jack that was written long ago and realizes he might have to change a few things...

The Fic

Vlad was trying, he really was. Maddie had told him that if he wanted to get on her good side he would have to get along with Jack. She’d already wrung several apologies out of him for his past interactions with her, which he’d gladly given once she was direct about it; clearly his past approach wasn’t working anyway, it wasn’t worth sinking any further effort into regardless and she’d provided a potential path forward for him. Hanging around with Jack was worth a try, since nothing else had worked. And he was trying.

But toxic associations and bad memories meant that getting close to Jack was like trying to cozy up to a cactus.

Jack was on board the moment Vlad asked if he wanted to spend some quality time together, even to the point of canceling all other plans for such days just to make sure they had no need to rush. He doted on Vlad like a lovesick teenager, overflowing with compliments and enthusiasm for anything Vlad was presently interested in. The whole thing turned Vlad’s stomach. He hadn’t liked it from the merciful distance he’d maintained before and he liked it even less up close.

It felt... Fake, coming from Jack. Twenty years of radio silence and suddenly Vlad was one of the most important people in Jack’s life now that he was worth something. ‘Fairweather friend’ would be the appropriate, least-vulgar term. Vlad wasn’t born yesterday. He knew how these things went.

A distant part of Vlad wondered if this was how Maddie saw him and made a mental note to stamp out any similar behavior when he noticed it. He was supposed to be better than Jack, after all. More refined, less of a clown.

Supposed to be. These days he got the sneaking suspicion that he was more like Jack than he wanted to admit, and it bothered him to no end. He would have to take a day to make sure those suspicions were only that, and to make changes if they proved true. Take stock, ask ‘is this something Jack would do?’ and then act accordingly.

Today’s hangout was thankfully out of the public eye, down in the FentonWorks lab. Unfortunately that didn’t stop Danny and his friends from wandering through, and even now Jack was gushing about Vlad to the three of them. Vlad was only half-listening as he tried to fight the embarrassed blush that was settling over his face and ears.

The second-hand embarrassment was almost too much to bear at times. Why couldn’t Jack just be normal about this? Did he really think Vlad was stupid enough to fall for such tricks? That assumption alone was an insult to Vlad’s intelligence. He had to be after something, there was no possible explanation other than that.

“Yeah, that’s great, dad,” Danny said quickly, before Jack had a chance to launch off into another Vlad-related tangent; he’d undoubtedly intended to keep an eye on the two, only to be roped into Jack’s nonsense the moment he’d been spotted. “Are you guys gonna finish up soon or what?”

Jack chuckled. “We can’t stop now, we’re on a roll! We’ve almost got this new invention all figured out, right Vladdie?” He pulled Vlad into an abrupt side-hug.

Vlad barely kept a lid on the sudden flare of anger at being touched without permission. “Yes, indeed we have,” he said, after a pause that stretched just a little too long.

Danny gave him a suspicion-filled squint but didn’t interrupt.

“That’s right! Once the Buster-Vack is operational we’ll be cleaning out the ghost infestation in this town in no time at all!” Jack said proudly.

“Dad, don’t you already have a ghost-fighting vacuum?” Danny asked. “You know, the Fenton Weasel?”

“Now Danny, it’s not like they’ll do the same thing. The Fenton Weasel sucks up ghosts, but the Buster-Vack will drain the energy right out of them and store it for use somewhere else! Much more useful!”

“Yeah, I’m sure Vlad’s gonna find a real great use for it, huh?” Danny shot a pointed look at Vlad.

“Well it could be used to charge devices that require ecto-energy to run, certainly,” Vlad said, not rising to the bait. “But that does require that we get it working first.”

“Right you are, V-man!” Jack said, giving Vlad a back-slap that would’ve sent a weaker man to the floor. “Let’s get back to it!”

~~~

In the end they made little progress on the Buster-Vack. They’d gotten hung up on the present problem of how to peel the energy off whatever ghost it was aimed at without just taking the whole ghost—there was a certain dimensionality that had to be tuned just so—and had decided to sleep on it once Maddie came down and asked them if they wanted dinner. Vlad had excused himself, unable to stomach much more of Jack’s presence, and gone home for the night.

Vlad only realized how exhausted he was after he got through his front door. He sighed, and considered whether he wanted to bother with dinner or not. An early bedtime was looking quite attractive, and eating would mean he’d have to stay up longer to avoid indigestion.

He started toward the kitchen regardless; whether he was going to have dinner or not didn’t matter when there were cats to feed. They appeared like a pair of pale shadows as he neared the kitchen, giving him burbling happy meows of greeting and inevitably getting under his feet in that special way cats did. He picked up each in turn and gave them a little kiss on the head; Maddie only half-tolerated it and immediately tried to clean the top of her head when he put her down while Marty simply purred.

His mind inevitably wandered back to the situation with Jack as he prepared their food.

He was trying. It should’ve been getting easier. He’d been doing this for weeks and he was still just as exhausted now as when he’d first started hanging out with Jack again.

Why was it still so hard to just be around him?

Because he hurt you, abandoned you, and then never even did the bare minimum of apologizing for it, his inner voice replied. Some days he wondered if Maddie’s esteem was even worth this. He’d suffered for years because of Jack, and the man just pretended nothing had even happened between them! Was he supposed to forgive and forget? Brains didn’t work that way! Humans didn’t work that way! Why was he having to do so much when Jack hadn’t even said such a simple phrase as ‘I’m sorry’?

In the end Vlad decided to go to bed without dinner. He’d only end up wandering in endless angry thought-spirals if he stayed up, and that was simply a waste of time. Better to reset, avoid Jack tomorrow, and try to recuperate.

~~~

This time Vlad waited a few days before approaching Jack again. He gave Vlad that puppy dog smile of his when he found him at the front door and immediately took him down to the lab where the Buster-Vack was still waiting. They would be able to pick up right where they left off.

“Why did you even call it that?” Vlad asked after a half-hour of batting calculations back and forth. No matter how much time he’d dedicated to puzzling over the name he hadn’t been able to figure it out. “Shouldn’t it be called, oh, the Fenton Specter Buster or something like that?”

“Well it made sense to put both our names on it,” Jack said with a grin.

Vlad gave him a blank stare. “Huh? But it doesn’t have our names on it—”

“Sure it does! The Vack part! V-A-C-K.”

“Oh, so just half of my name and most of your name?” Vlad asked, a little more snippily than he’d meant to. Only half an hour in and he was already feeling tired.

“Well I had to keep it sounding like ‘vac’, and there’s no ‘l’ or ‘d’ in vacuum,” Jack said matter-of-factly.

There’s no ‘k’ in vacuum either! Vlad thought, but he stopped just short of saying it aloud. He forced himself to drop the matter and returned to his set of calculations.

A few minutes passed in blissful silence before Jack spoke up again. “I missed working with ya, V-man. I’ve been having a blast with you lately,” Jack said with a warm smile.

Vlad’s patience was already paper-thin. That apparent lie or supreme bout of forgetfulness was enough to tear it in half. “Missed me?” Vlad muttered, partially to himself. “I don’t believe you.”

Jack stopped his math scribbles and looked up at Vlad, the smile dropping from his face. “What?”

Vlad didn’t meet his eye right away. He was at a crossroads: make something up and convince Jack that he’d misheard, or tell him the truth. Jack would be more than happy to take the lie, Vlad knew that very well, but the truthful option… Well, that might get him thrown out, but at least it might put a stop to this exhausting dance they’d been doing for weeks. If Jack really wanted Vlad to believe in him then he could prove it.

“I don’t believe you,” Vlad said, louder and more clearly this time, though he still didn’t look up at Jack.

Jack stared at him, absolutely dumbfounded. “But why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Jack,” Vlad said sarcastically, making a show of pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. “Maybe it’s the fact that you left me to die and then never bothered to reach out to me in the entire twenty years we’ve been apart.”

“But the letters—”

“What letters?” Vlad snapped. “I never got a single one from you or anyone else.”

“They never got to you?” Jack surged to his feet and moved to take Vlad’s hand.

Vlad stepped back and out of reach. “Oh, what? Did they conveniently get lost in the mail? So you can claim you sent them without giving any proof?”

“They all came back,” Jack replied. “I still have them.”

That was enough of a surprise to derail the rising anger that had taken hold of him. He’d been expecting a convenient lack of proof on Jack’s part. “Show me,” Vlad said.

The house had a subtle spin to it as Jack led him through it. To think Jack had been trying to reach out after all... No, he wouldn’t believe it before he saw proof. He would not be tricked by Jack’s fake friendship again.

Jack led Vlad upstairs, to a hall closet near the master bedroom. He reached into the very back, behind the extra blankets and sheets, and dragged a decently-sized cardboard box out of the depths. “I had to hide them,” Jack admitted sheepishly as he set the box on the floor between them. “Maddie already threw away the ones she sent, I kinda worried she’d do the same to mine.”

Vlad said nothing and knelt beside the box. A light chill from anticipation settled into his fingertips as he looked down at it.

The box had been closed by folding the flaps under each other, suggesting that Jack hadn’t intended to store it for long periods of time. Jack pulled them open and revealed that it was full almost to the top with old letters.

Vlad slowly selected one at random and checked the postmark: November 15th, 1983. Two years after the accident. He’d been stuck in that government medical facility for four years after it happened...

His head was swimming a bit now. He turned the letter over and started to open it.

In his peripherals he noticed Jack stiffen slightly and reach into the box to take one of the letters. Vlad continued as if he hadn’t noticed. Idiot, he really must’ve considered Vlad to be an oblivious fool if he thought he wouldn’t spot him.

Jack did his best to discreetly slip the letter under a set of folded sheets. It would be easy enough for Vlad to retrieve later as long as Jack didn’t get a chance to move it. All he had to do was wait a little bit and take it once Jack wasn’t paying attention.

Vlad slid the present letter out of its envelope—this one had been written inside of a blank card decorated with a picture of a forest in autumn on the front—and read through it. The letter was brief, unmistakably penned in Jack’s blocky and direct handwriting, and split between news from Jack’s personal life and pleas that Vlad come back to them if he could.

So here it was, the box full of proof that Jack had not forgotten him. At least at first.

Without a word Vlad slid the card back into its envelope and folded the seal flap under its bottom counterpart. “I’m surprised,” he said, finally.

“You can take them home if you want. They were meant for you,” Jack said, shifting a little awkwardly on his knees. Whether his unease was from the delicate emotional matters at hand or because of the letter he’d just hidden Vlad couldn’t say. “I don’t really understand what happened. We thought you were sending them back...”

“Whoever handled the mail at the facility must’ve returned them before they got to me,” Vlad said, his voice sounding distant in his own ears. Yes, that did make sense. Why would they bother letting him get correspondence from the outside? It would be easier to simply send them back. They were both lucky that said person had decided to return them at all rather than disposing of them.

Vlad put the letter back, a pall of exhaustion settling over him. “I don’t feel well,” he said. “I think I’m going to head home for today.”

“Do you want to take them?” Jack offered again.

“Yes, I’ll take them,” Vlad replied slowly. Along with the one you tried to hide, he added silently.

Jack folded the flaps of the box under each other again to hold the top shut and passed it to Vlad, then led the way back down the hall.

Vlad followed, sending an invisible duplicate back to the closet as he did so. The letter was there under the sheets, and addressed to him when he checked the front. Now why had Jack wanted to hide this one? He would have to find that out once he got home.

~~~

The box of letters sat on Vlad’s desk with the previously-concealed letter on the tabletop before him. Vlad picked it up and turned it over in his hands. It seemed normal enough as far as letters went, and a quick comparison to the dates on the topmost letters revealed that it had been the final one Jack sent. August 10th, 1984 said the postmark. Jack had sent it a few months after he and Maddie were married.

Vlad took his little sword letter opener and cut the seal flap. The letter within was written on stationary paper this time, its edges decorated with pale blue clouds. It was... Worn, somehow. Like it had been folded and unfolded and smoothed out multiple times before finally being sealed within its envelope. Something had smudged the blocky handwriting of this one too; perhaps Jack had gotten a bit sloppy with food or drink while writing it. That would be just like him.

Vlad, I really miss you. It’s just not the same without you here. It hurts every time I think about you being gone, I can’t find the right words for it. Please come home. We’ll help you out with any medical bills you have, no matter how long it takes.

From this point on, the writing became noticeably more sloppy, requiring many white-out corrections to stay coherent and more portions that had simply been scribbled out and left behind, looking like partially-smashed insects on the page. Words compressed on the right side of the paper where Jack ran out of room and tried to fit too long a word on too short a line. The stains from water droplets were also more numerous here.

My life’s just not complete with you gone. I miss your laugh and your lips smile and how we used to talk and how close we used to be. I miss holding you in my arms hugging you. I hope you’re doing okay. I hope you’ll be cured soon. I’m sorry I hurt you. I was stupid. I should’ve listened to Maddie. I should’ve made sure you were safe before turning it on.

The next paragraph had been blotched out entirely with a felt-tip pen. Vlad glared at it and turned the letter over; Jack used a lot of pressure when he wrote by hand, and the paper was thin enough that Vlad might be able to read the impression of the letters on the other side. The reading was slower, for obvious reasons, but the hidden paragraph was plain as day:

I’d marry you too if I could. I don’t know if Maddie would be okay with that. I know the government wouldn’t let us. I wish you could be part of my family that way.

Vlad stopped reading. It was suddenly hard to breathe. He carefully placed the letter on his desk and stood, swaying a little as his head spun from the confession.

Jack... Wanted to marry him? How long had he felt that way? They’d been close back in college, sure—far closer than even best friends tended to be—but he never suspected that Jack would want...

He was coming unmoored. It was a strange, empty feeling. Like something had hollowed out his skull and chest cavity, making him weightless.

Vlad picked up the letter again, his fingers cold and clumsy and clammy, and read the final part.

I love you, and I miss you every day. I hope you’re doing okay. Please write back. Love, Jack

Again Vlad set the letter aside. He braced both hands against the desktop and took a deep breath. Then another. The cold weightless feeling refused to go away, and thoughts came and went at a meandering pace.

Jack... Loved him... In the same way he loved Maddie.

Did he still—

Vlad stopped the thought before it could go further. No… He had to think about this. Jack had tried to hide the letter from him earlier, and the confession had been crossed out before the letter was sent. A momentary miscalculation on Jack’s part, quickly hidden once common sense got the chance to set in.

Another part of him asked: But why send it like this? Jack could’ve rewritten the letter with this one as the rough draft, avoiding any possibility of the crossed-out sections being read.

Laziness was the simplest answer. Yes, that would be it. Jack wanted to make the gesture but was too lazy to properly go about the execution. He didn’t really mean it...

Vlad glanced over the box of letters again.

But he had indeed been writing to Vlad. He hadn’t forgotten, as Vlad had been so sure he did over the past two decades.

The letter even had an apology, something he’d wanted so desperately from Jack all along...

Vlad wished he could believe it. But he’d been hurt too badly to trust Jack again. At least, not without additional proof...

The cold, hollow feeling still hadn’t gone away.

He picked up the letter and carefully returned it to its envelope. Vlad needed time. Perhaps this was still too little too late to change things, but regardless... He had been wrong about Jack, at least in part. That was a revelation that needed proper time to sink in.

~~~

Danny looked over the mess of sheets and blankets and then back up at his dad again. Jack still hadn’t noticed him, being too busy turning the closet inside out as he looked for something.

“Uh, dad?” Danny said.

Jack yelped and jumped up so suddenly that he immediately tripped on a half-folded blanket and sat down hard on the floor. “Danny! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” he said once he caught his breath.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh well I uh...” By the pause Danny knew his dad was about to give him a lie, and a hasty one at that. “I hid some snacks in here yesterday and was trying to find them but wouldn’t you know it, they’ve gone missing!” Jack declared, only managing half of his usual confidence. “Guess someone else found them.”

So the location was probably accurate, but the thing he was looking for wasn’t. And Vlad had been visiting just yesterday too... “Well good luck finding who did it,” Danny said; it wasn’t worth trying to get a straight answer out of his dad when he was so determined to lie like this, but Danny already had a good idea of who might be the cause of this situation. He started back down the hall, only to pause after a few steps. “Oh yeah, dad?” Danny said as he turned back to him.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t forget to clean that up,” Danny said, pointing at the mess of sheets and blankets strewn in front of the closet. He then dashed down the stairs before Jack had the chance to ask him to help.

Danny found cover a little ways down the street from FentonWorks and transformed. Time to see what Vlad was playing at.

~~~

The mansion was quiet when Danny arrived. He phased through the nearest wall, then drifted through the library and into Vlad’s office.

Vlad was at his desk, eyes closed as he rested his chin on his interlaced fingers. He looked tired, melancholic; the usual smirk he wore whenever he dealt with Danny was nowhere to be found, and the shadows under his eyes were darker than usual. After a few moments passed opened his eyes and looked up at Danny. “What do you want, Daniel?” he asked, his tone sharp but lacking energy.

“Did you steal something from my dad yesterday?” Danny asked, arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at Vlad. He couldn’t help the curiosity over Vlad’s current state, however much the man annoyed him, but he kept that question in reserve for the time being.

“I did not,” Vlad replied simply.

Danny noticed the worn and marked-out letter that was even now open before Vlad and drifted a little closer to look at it.

Vlad put a hand over it and pulled it closer to himself. “Don’t you know it’s rude to read someone else’s mail?” he snapped.

“What, did you get bad news from home?” Danny asked. “Did papa Dracula write to say he’s disappointed in you?”

“Both of my parents died years ago,” Vlad replied, his voice completely flat.

The reply knocked Danny completely off-balance. “Oh uh. Sorry for your loss,” he said weakly.

“Now if you have nothing else to pester me about...” Vlad said. “I ask that you leave.”

~~~

Vlad tried to return to business as usual. Work on his own inventions, research various artifacts of the Ghost Zone, take care of human-world business dealings...

At every step the letter and the questions it raised haunted him. Not the hauntings he’d grown so used to, as a result of dealing with real ghosts for twenty years, but the ones found in rumor and urban legend. The ones you read about in tales by the old horror masters. Quiet and subtle most of the time, only to loom out of the shadows to claw at him when he least expected it.

A text from Jack interrupted Vlad’s routine stock market research, asking how he was doing. Vlad gave a quick ‘I’m fine’ in return and set his phone aside. He’d only just gotten Jack out of his mind, and there he was barging right in again. Typical.

Vlad sat back in his chair, chin resting in one hand, and stared at the far wall for a time. He hadn’t gone through the other letters yet. Their mere existence was enough of a statement for now, and he didn’t have the stamina for another shock like the final one had given him.

Twenty long years of hate were not so easily dissipated, but the existence of the letters gave a certain hollowness to it all. It was the abandonment that had cut deepest back then. The fact that Jack didn’t even have the decency to try to fix the damage he’d done, that he’d just tossed Vlad aside like a broken toy once he’d become too much of a burden.

So Vlad had thought. And how could he think otherwise? It was a perfectly reasonable conclusion to come to from where he’d been sitting.

But that conclusion had been wrong in the end. Part of it, at least. There was nothing to stop Jack from trying to reach out once Vlad escaped that wretched facility and started making a name for himself. He hadn’t even tried, and Vlad knew Jack couldn’t be so under a rock that he would’ve missed some of the strides Vlad was making back then.

So why? Had he written all those letters, just to forget Vlad in the end anyway? That might be worse than what Vlad had assumed for all these years.

He had to know, even as he dreaded the answer. From the beginning he’d thought himself justified in his enmity toward Jack, in his schemes and attempts at revenge, all because of the harm Jack had done to him. But the letters... The love confession... Threatened to change that, threatened to cast Vlad’s past actions in a new, uglier light. The thought brewed a dull feeling of nausea deep in his stomach. Things would have to change if the letter was true.

Perhaps if he’d confronted Jack years ago they could’ve settled things between them, perhaps even mended their friendship and again intertwined their lives as they had before. If Jack really was genuine about his words. If he really did mean what he wrote in that letter. Vlad could’ve had a happier life up until now.

They’d wasted so much time...

Vlad shook his head. No. He refused to get his hopes up. With his luck Jack had sent that final letter and then written Vlad out of his life, and had only re-entered it later because of Vlad’s status. He would not be fooled again.

He shoved such musings out of mind and returned to his work.

~~~

The book he was looking for was not in his library. Or the lab. Or his office. Vlad checked everywhere it could be yet again and came up short. He scowled at the span of bookshelf where it should’ve been and wracked his brain for where it might be. It was a book he hadn’t needed since before his move, a text on Ghost Zone fabrics, which meant he might’ve forgotten to unpack it after all this time.

Vlad hurried to the hall closet nearest to his bedroom, where he’d tucked a few of the unpacked boxes away to be dealt with later—quite a lot later, in this case. He moved the blankets and sheets aside and pulled three of them out.

The first contained a mix of books and clothing—he’d been in a hurry while packing due to the whole lack of roof thing, so item types had ended up jumbled together. Vlad took out the topmost books and found that they covered only mundane subjects—disappointing—then removed the clothes to see if he’d packed any more books underneath them.

His fingers brushed denim, worn and familiar, before he saw the garment it belonged to. Vlad flinched as if he’d been stung and withdrew his arm. Just his luck, to think it would be here of all places at this particular moment... After taking a few seconds to gather himself he lifted the other clothes out, revealing an oversized denim jacket at the bottom of the box.

It had originally belonged to Jack. He’d bought it just before going to college, but shortly after they got their dorm room together, well... It unofficially belonged to Vlad, given how often he wore it. He could still remember the night Jack first placed it on his shoulders to ward off the chill; Jack could make heat like a furnace and claimed he didn’t need it as much as Vlad did, and his warmth had lingered on it for some time after he’d passed it on.

They’d been far closer than mere friends back then. Their nights together were never cold, even in deep winter—

He cut the memory off before it could go further. No point thinking about that right now...

Vlad took the jacket in both hands and lifted it out of the box. It was heavy and cold and smelled faintly of the sandalwood cologne he’d been wearing when he last handled it; over the years and various washings it had lost its original owner’s scent, and Vlad had never bothered trying to recreate it. He shifted his hands and slowly let it fall open. The blue fabric was marred by a few burn marks here and there; the first set was from when he’d tossed it into the hearth in a fit of anger, only to claw it back out again when he realized what he’d done; the second was from the fact that it was one of the items to survive when his ghost portal exploded.

He’d felt a strange sense of kinship with it when he found it among his belongings all those years ago, after finally reclaiming what had been in his dorm room once he was out of the facility. Jack had carelessly left it behind, same as he’d done to Vlad.

But now Vlad wondered if Jack had specifically left it behind for him instead...

~~~

Sleep was elusive that night. Vlad stared up at the ceiling, his eyes wide and his face slack and otherwise expressionless. The jacket lay spread out on the comforter next to him. Occasionally he reached over and took it in one hand, rubbing the fabric between his fingers or simply holding on to it for a time.

At a glance he looked the same as he always did, but now everything unseen was shifting underneath him. A current of emotion and subconscious thought that dragged him farther and farther away from the familiar shore.

A deep, aching sense of longing settled in his chest. He took a deep breath in an attempt to ease it and closed his eyes, for what little good it would do.

Even if Jack still held those feelings after all this time, there was no way they could be what they once were to each other. Jack was happily married to the woman they both loved, any secret relationship would only serve to drive her away from both of them. He would lose Maddie, and he would lose Jack too. He would be alone again.

His own feelings hadn’t completely gone away in the twenty years since then. He’d been terrified when he first noticed them rising out of the depths once more in the wake of reading the letter. If Jack still shared those feelings now then it would only become all the more painful as he stifled them.

Vlad’s grip on the jacket tightened. He liked neither option when it came to the answer Jack could give: he was only now realizing just how miserable he’d been before while he still hated Jack, but the thought of having to settle for never being able to be with him despite mutual romantic feelings didn’t make him happy either. Maddie... Disliked Vlad, after all. There was no way she would ever be okay with a romantic relationship between him and her husband. Things were looking bleaker and bleaker no matter what the outcome was.

Vlad pulled the jacket over and spread it across himself like a blanket, then rolled onto his side and tried to will himself to sleep.

~~~

A few days later Vlad was working on calculations for a new invention when Maddiecat stood in front of his monitor and stared at him.

He briefly tried to look around her—a futile effort, given how much visual space she took up thanks to her long fluffy coat—then moved his chair back to make room.

She examined his lap for a few moments, then stepped down and flopped onto her side with a loud purr.

Vlad smiled and scratched under her chin, instinctively shifting his legs so she wasn’t in danger of rolling off. His thoughts drifted back to her namesake. Doing so did not bring the usual burst of happiness the way it tended to most of the time.

Had his continuing love for her been determined by Jack’s betrayal back then? Why did it feel so incorporeal now? Did it all go back to that?

It almost made him wish he’d never taken that letter. The others were enough to suggest he’d been wrong—at least in part—but that final one... He had yet to regain his balance after finding what it contained.

An indescribable feeling had settled over him ever since. The sensation of something that cannot be undone, of entropy’s relentless march to the future. Even if Jack brushed off the letter there would be a new status quo to replace the old one. There was no perfect reset after this.

Things were changing, and it terrified him. The grudge that had defined him for twenty long years was feeling more tenuous by the day, and he had no idea what would be left in its place if it dissipated completely.

~~~

Vlad proposed another visit with Jack a little over a week after reading the letter. As usual Jack jumped at the chance and cleared his schedule for the day, already making plans to resume work on their joint invention.

The usual hate Vlad felt whenever he was around Jack had that hollowness to it now. Perhaps if Jack brushed off the letter there would be substance to it again. But Vlad would have to ask Jack about it in order to find out.

They went down to the lab and set about calculations for the Buster-Vack. Vlad did his best to focus, but his attention was split between the math and the question of the letter. How to bring it up? He couldn’t just come out and ask about it, could he? But perhaps that would be the best way... Subtlety was not Jack’s forte, after all.

Vlad’s first attempt at bringing it up was abruptly cut short by Danny intruding to ask Jack about some item he’d misplaced. He dropped it once Danny was gone, having remembered that the boy was a possible eavesdropper for any conversation he tried to have with Jack. That added threat of possible embarrassment kept Vlad silent a while longer.

The day passed without an answer. Vlad was lagging behind on his calculations thanks to the divide in his attention, something that he explained by saying he was feeling a little under the weather. Jack didn’t mind; to him the only thing that mattered was that Vlad was here at all.

Vlad returned the next day. Jack worked on the main canister of their invention while Vlad turned his attention to finishing his calculations. For a time the lab was filled only with the hum of lab equipment, the clank of metal and tools, and the scratch of a pen.

“Jack?” Vlad said, at last breaking the silence between them.

“Yeah?” Jack looked up with a big smile on his face.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Vlad began. Anxiety threatened to choke him even as he spoke the words. Why did this have to be so hard? What was he so afraid of?

Jack waited patiently, the sheer force of his attention seeming to settle on Vlad like a lead weight.

“Erm, do you think we should celebrate once we’re done with this? It’s the first invention we’ve built from start to finish in twenty years,” Vlad said, even as he mentally kicked himself for chickening out on the real question.

“That’s a great idea!” Jack said with the utmost gusto. “We’ll have a special dinner and drinks, just the two of us!”

“Yes, that sounds wonderful,” Vlad said weakly. He returned to his calculations again, only to find that it was impossible to focus due to sheer frustration.

Vlad wanted to physically kick himself for that fumble. Maybe he actually would! Duplication was an option, once he got home he could use it to give himself a good kick in the rear for being such a coward. He was one of the richest men on the planet, making progress on bringing the Ghost Zone to heel in a similar manner, he’d fought many powerful ghosts without flinching, and yet here he was balking at a question. A question! A mere string of words with an upward inflection on the end! What was he so afraid of?

The answer to that question proved somewhat murky when Vlad looked for it. There was the fear of change of course, but that wasn’t the only thing that made him hesitate. There was the other side to Jack’s possible reply, the one where he told Vlad that the letter didn’t mean anything. For years he’d thought that Jack didn’t really care about him, but to actually hear it from Jack rather than assume...

It would... Break his heart all over again to actually hear it. The mere thought made him sick to his stomach.

But he still had to know, one way or the other. He couldn’t just sit in limbo agonizing over what the answer might be. He had to ask the question.

~~~

Another day went by. Vlad at last finished his batch of calculations and passed them off to Jack to be incorporated into the rest of their work and went home for the day. He did not, in fact, use duplication to give himself a kick when he got home. It was still tempting, but he had more important matters to attend to. There were cats to feed, dinner to make, and as much sleep as possible to catch once those were taken care of. He would need his wits about him when they tested the prototype tomorrow. Perhaps it would also be easier to ask the question if he got enough sleep tonight.

~~~

Vlad found no opportunity to ask his question as they put the final touches on their prototype. All their focus went into assembly and tuning the internal chamber. Vlad’s calculations were key for getting the energy drain to work properly, and he was confident that he’d done them to perfection despite all the distractions.

Jack placed a collection of faintly-glowing beakers on the testing table. “If this baby can suck the ecto-contamination off of these we’ll be ready to move to the next phase of prototyping. And the final version will be great for cleaning up the lab on top of dusting ghosts!”

“It will be quite the useful device if so,” Vlad said as he took up a position next to Jack. He was a tad dispirited despite their progress, but it was good to see their joint invention make such a milestone.

Jack took up the Buster-Vack’s wand—the device already looked very much like a canister vacuum—and hit the switch.

The device was quiet, giving off a low pulsating hum as Jack brought the wand over to the contaminated beakers. As expected the glow on the beakers was drawn into the end of the wand and soon enough they looked like perfectly mundane pieces of lab equipment again—

Vlad became aware of a horrible weight in the room, as if the air had suddenly become thick as water. He snapped his head around to look at the canister and noticed the odd shadow that seemed to be gathering around it. The rhythmic hum took on a more discordant pattern as something went wrong inside the prototype.

His calculations—

They were both standing far too close. Fear and instinct stamped out rational thought, his inner dialogue going silent as he grabbed Jack by the jumpsuit and leaped away—

The Buster-Vack imploded with a dull thud and an abrupt screech of warping metal. A shockwave flowed out, the leading edge glowing with ectoplasmic energy as it forced the ghostly power out of everything it passed over.

They landed on the floor some distance away. Jack was at a safe range. Vlad was still far too close. The shockwave broke over him like boiling water, the sheer pain of it tearing his voice away. It flowed through him and dragged every speck of ghostly energy from his body as it left—and tore most of the mundane energy from his cells as well.

Vlad collapsed as his consciousness surrendered to the cold darkness.

~~~

Jack sat up once the lab had gone quiet. It was pitch-black, save for the lingering glow left on the walls. Even the Fenton Portal had gone dark. “Phew! Never thought that would happen. Great reflexes there, V-man!”

His words were met by silence. No reply from Vlad, and even the lab equipment had gone dead quiet thanks to the shockwave shoving all the energy out of it.

“Vlad?” Worry crept in, sharp and cold.

The silence was broken not by a reply but by a flurry of footsteps coming from upstairs.

“Vlad!” Jack felt around in the darkness at his side where Vlad should be. A sudden wave of panic rushed over him, and it felt as if his heart was trying to force its way into his throat. What happened—

“Dad!” Danny’s voice rang out from the stairwell just as the beam of a flashlight hit the floor at its foot.

Jack found Vlad as Danny entered the lab. Vlad lay on his side with his eyes closed, arms limp with one draped over his waist. He didn’t respond as Jack shook his shoulder, and Jack could feel an unnatural chill even through multiple layers of fabric.

“Dad, what happened?” Danny ran over to them, rounding a table as he did so. “What was—” he spotted Vlad and stopped to stare for a few moments. “Is he—?”

Jack lowered his head to Vlad’s level and listened. For a few heart-pounding moments he heard nothing, and then—shallow, with long pauses between as if Vlad barely had the energy to pull air into his lungs, but it was there. Vlad was alive.

For now.

“He’s breathing,” Jack said. Now that Danny had the flashlight on Vlad’s face he could see that all the color had gone from it, leaving Vlad’s skin nearly gray. Jack picked him up and held him close, trying to share a little warmth; Vlad had always had issues with being too cold, but he’d never seen it this bad before. “Where’s Maddie?” he asked as he looked up at Danny. He needed someone who could think more clearly than he could right now. At least Vlad had been conscious after the proto-portal accident, but this time—this time he looked like he was on the verge of death.

“Mom’s out shopping,” Danny replied.

“What do we do? Should I take him to the hospital?” Jack brought a hand to his head as he aloud to himself. Could a hospital even treat this? He knew that the hospitals back then hadn’t been able to cure Vlad’s ecto-acne—he and Maddie wouldn’t have had to do that recently if they had—so their knowing that to do for this—

“We need to get to Vlad’s lab,” Danny said, disrupting Jack’s train of thought.

“What?” Jack looked up at him.

“I bet Vlad has something to help with this in his lab. He’s always doing ecto-tech experiments, and a hospital wouldn’t be able to treat this anyway.”

“You know what’s wrong?”

“Um.” Danny paused, the question taking him off-guard. He glanced around the room as he thought of his answer. “Well it looks like whatever happened shoved all the ecto-energy out of everything in here. So that must be what’s affecting Vlad.”

“But I was just fine at the same range.”

“Maybe having ecto-acne left him permanently ecto-contaminated?” Danny asked with a shrug. “Even after it’s been cured it could still leave permanent changes, right?”

“That’s possible...” Jack admitted. Truthfully they still didn’t know as much about ecto-acne as they would’ve liked, such as permanent effects after the cure. Long-lasting ecto-contamination could be one of them... “If his body adapted to having constant levels of ecto-energy then having it suddenly removed could make him sick...” he reasoned to himself as he stared down at Vlad. With his mind made up, Jack took Vlad in his arms and stood. “You know how to get to his lab?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked to Danny.

“He showed it to me once,” Danny replied. “I think he was trying to show off.”

“Let’s go.”

~~~

They took the Specter Speeder over to Vlad’s mansion to save on time. Vlad’s house keys were in his breast pocket, and soon enough they were inside looking for the lab. Danny led the way, meeting only two missed attempts to find the entrance before locating the correct one.

Jack watched the wall slide back as Danny released the lamp that had served as its lever. Vlad definitely had style, it was just one of many things about him that Jack admired, and they had similar tastes in this respect—the entrance to Jack’s own lab wasn’t a secret, but there were certainly a few special functions of the Fenton residence that he’d hidden around.

Danny led the way down into the lab. Jack had never seen it before, despite his newly-rekindled friendship with Vlad. He hadn’t pressed him on it, figuring that Vlad would give him a tour when he felt ready. If only the circumstances for finally being able to see it weren’t so dire...

The lab was dimly-lit by the faintly-glowing lights of slumbering equipment and other devices. The two of them looked around for a light switch, only for the lights to come on mere moments after they’d begun their search. Lights on the equipment pulsed in a wave toward the other end of the lab, leading them toward something that they couldn’t see yet.

They continued on around a corner where they found a large tank with various panels and devices forming its framework. The pulsing lights ended here. This had to be the healing device that Danny figured Vlad would have. A panel lit up next to the tank and its screen declared that the entire array was indeed a recovery chamber meant to speed up healing and re-energize the patient. Instructions on how to prepare Vlad for it followed as a nearby cabinet opened with a whir of servos to reveal something similar to a wetsuit.

“Hey Danny, could you step out for now? I can take care of this,” Jack said with a glance back at Danny.

“Okay,” Danny said after a brief pause. He stepped back around the corner, but the sound of his footsteps stopped there.

It was reassuring to know that his son wanted to stay and support him, but Jack was confident that he could take care of this himself. He laid Vlad out on a nearby exam table as instructed. A scanner popped out of the side and ran its bar of light over Vlad. The readings on the chamber changed with an accompaniment of foreboding beeps, showing that Vlad was at critically low metabolic energy levels and giving the estimate that he would likely die within the hour if left to his fate.

Jack worked swiftly, changing Vlad into the chamber suit and gently pulling out his ponytail so it wouldn’t interfere with the breathing mask. Once ready the chamber’s information panel directed him to a set of spiral stairs that would allow him access to the top of the main tank. Jack ascended with Vlad in his arms and found the top hatch already open. He attached the necessary tubes to the breathing mask, then lowered Vlad into the tank, his movements slow and deliberate. Jack stepped back as the hatch closed with a heavy metallic clank.

He returned to the front of the tank and checked the main screen: it estimated three days to get Vlad back to full consciousness. They’d made it just in time.

Jack’s shoulders went slack, and he breathed a long sigh of relief.

“Everything okay, dad?” Danny called from around the corner.

“Yep! Everything’s gonna be a-okay!” Jack declared, straightening a little as the weight of worry eased off his shoulders.

Danny peeked around the corner, then joined Jack near the healing tank. “So how did this happen, anyway?” he asked as he looked up at Jack.

“Something went wrong with the Buster-Vack. Won’t be sure what until I can look at what’s left, but Vlad pulled me to safety just before it went off.”

“Vlad saved you?” Danny asked with plain disbelief.

“He dragged me away just in time,” Jack said, watching Danny closely as he did. Just what had Danny thinking Vlad would let him die like that?

“Huh.” Danny turned his attention to the tank instead and said nothing more on the matter. “Says it’ll take three days. We can head home for now.”

“I’m not leaving,” Jack said.

“Dad, you don’t have to stick around. He’s gonna be fine.”

“But something could happen before he’s ready to wake up. I’m not gonna leave him alone.” Jack crossed his arms over his chest but didn’t look Danny in the eye as he spoke. The unspoken ‘this time’ hung in the air like a piece of cobweb, slight and drifting but unmistakably there.

Danny let out a grumbling sigh. “Fine,” he mumbled.

Any further discussion was cut off when a nearby screen flashed and displayed a message asking that the two feed Vlad’s cats for him.

Danny stared at the screen. “Wait, he has cats?!”

~~~

The first thing that he became aware of was the pain. A bone-deep ache accompanied by the sensation of having had every one of his muscles wrung out like a damp rag. Next and more pleasant was the temperature: a comfortable warmth that uniformly embraced every part of his body. Then the muffled quality of incoming sound… He was submerged given what he could hear.

The Revitalization Chamber?

He briefly clutched for any recent memories that might reveal why he was here. The Buster-Vack, something going wrong with it… Ah, the shockwave from its implosion shoved nearly all the energy from his body when it hit him. That was why he’d felt so cold as he passed out.

But who had gotten him into the tank, then?

Vlad slowly opened his eyes and looked out through the clear glass at the front of the tank.

Jack was seated at its base, sleeping with his head and near shoulder resting against the glass. It was a surprise to find him here and it... Did kindle some warmth in Vlad’s heart. Just how long had he waited?

Vlad’s gaze lifted to take in the room at large. Only then did he notice the mess of food wrappers and discarded pizza boxes that had been left on various lab tables and on the floor. The resulting spike of aggravation immediately stamped out any fond feelings. Vlad scowled behind the breathing mask. Jack had been waiting around long enough to make a pig sty of Vlad’s lab, that was for sure!

The chamber reacted to his movements and began to drain the healing medium away.

Jack stirred and opened his eyes at the noise. He spotted Vlad and broke out into a happy grin as he stepped back from the tank.

Vlad took the mask off as the front of the tank unlocked and swung up and away. “Jack Fenton, just what do you think you’ve been doing to my la—” the rest was cut off by an awkward yelp as Vlad’s knees buckled under his own weight.

Jack caught him easily—sparing him the indignity of a faceplant—and swept him into an equally-undignified hug. “Vladdie! You’re okay! I was so worried when you passed out!”

Any reply Vlad tried to give was smothered by his face being shoved into Jack’s chest. He tried to yell at him anyway and only managed a lot of incoherent, muffled grumbling as he weakly swatted Jack’s arm in a wordless demand that he let go.

It took a few swats for Jack to realize what Vlad wanted. “Whoops! Sorry, Vlad. I was just so happy that you woke up!”

Vlad gasped as Jack loosened his hold on him, then let out a long groan. “How many days has it been?”

“Three.”

The bottom fell out of Vlad’s stomach. “My cats!” He had automatic systems in place to ensure their needs were met if something happened to him in the short term, but that didn’t stop him from worrying that something might’ve gone wrong.

“Don’t worry, Vladdie. We took good care of them,” Jack said. “We even followed the feeding schedule that popped up.”

Vlad let out a long sigh of relief as the worry receded. “That’s good. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to them.”

“Aww, I’m glad you have cats, Vlad,” Jack said, giving Vlad a warm smile. “They’re so sweet, too!”

“Yes, yes, it’s very nice,” Vlad grumbled, though he couldn’t deny the warmth that bloomed in his chest when Jack looked at him like that. “Thank you for looking after things. You can go home now.”

“I can’t leave you like this, Vlad,” Jack said, his smile replaced by a look of earnest concern.

“What do you mean you can’t leave me? I’m awake now, you don’t have to worry!”

“Vlad. You can’t even walk right now.”

“Yes I can!” Vlad snapped indignantly. “You just haven’t put me back on the floor yet!”

Jack lowered Vlad to the floor as asked and let go; Vlad’s legs held for only a few seconds before threatening to give way again. He scooped Vlad up once more.

Vlad let out a grumbling sigh and let his head rest against Jack’s chest. “Fiiine, you can stay until I get my feet under me again. Just don’t make more of a mess while you’re here.”

“You can count on me, Vladdie!”

“Yes, good. Now could you take me up to my bathroom? The healing medium tends to get sticky as it dries and I don’t want it on me when that happens.”

“On it, V-man!” Jack carried Vlad bridal style—Vlad refused to examine how this made him feel right now, despite the blush that was already settling on his face and ears—and hurried back up to ground level.

After some directions from Vlad—and a few wrong turns from Jack due to his sheer enthusiasm to help—they made it to the master bedroom and its attached bathroom. Despite Jack’s insistence Vlad got him to at least let him shower on his own; Vlad was able to walk a little bit by then as long as he had something to lean against, and he still had his shower chair from the particularly bad ecto-acne flare-ups that would keep him off the floor while he cleaned himself up.

Vlad sat under the stream of hot water for a while and let his mind wander. How many times had he cursed Jack’s name while sitting on a shower chair like this? For all the years of medical agony he’d had to endure, the most terrifying flare-ups where his body lost functions and he wondered if this was finally the end, all from Jack’s five seconds of carelessness. And he’d endured every second of it alone. It would’ve been so much easier had Jack at least been there for him.

A knock at the bathroom door cut off any further ruminations.

“Everything okay in there, Vlad?” Jack asked, his voice just loud enough to reach Vlad over the sound of the water.

“I’m fine,” Vlad replied.

“Alrighty then!” There was the sound of the door closing again as Jack withdrew.

Vlad lingered a little longer under the shower’s stream, then finished up and dressed in the underwear and pajamas he’d picked out before coming in. His legs were a little more steady this time as he walked out of the bathroom and over to his bed—a relief, he wasn’t sure how much more of Jack carrying him he could take—and once there he slipped under the covers and was almost ready to fall asleep immediately upon resting his head on the pillow.

Jack followed and stood next to the bed, looming over him like the comforting bulk of a familiar mountain. He did always tend to hover when Vlad was sick back in college...

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Go clean up the mess you made down in my lab before you forget,” Vlad said. No way in hell was he letting Jack get away with leaving that for him to tidy up, no matter how nice it was for him to be so attentive right now.

“Oh yeah, I’ll get on that,” Jack said with just a smidge of sheepishness, apparently aware himself that he was quite likely to forget to do that without the necessary reminders.

Vlad drifted off as soon as Jack left, soon joined by his two cats who curled up on his bed beside him.

~~~

There was something hovering over his bed. Vlad lashed out instinctively without even opening his eyes and was rewarded with a solid punch to whatever it was, accompanied by an awkward yelp from the intruder.

“Hey! I wasn’t even doing anything to you!” Danny cried indignantly, his voice now coming from a few feet away.

“Invading my personal space counts as doing something to me,” Vlad replied as he opened his eyes. He turned his head and spotted Danny standing with his night stand between them. “And for all I knew you were planning to do something more. Why are you in my bedroom?”

“Unlike you I don’t pick on people who are helpless,” Danny snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to stand up straight after the blow he’d taken to his stomach. “I’m here cause I wanna know what you’re playing at.”

Vlad let out an annoyed groan and ran his hands down his face. “Playing at? I’m trying to recover from a near death experience at the moment! There are no games to be played in this case.”

“Why’d you save my dad?”

It was a question Vlad hadn’t gotten the chance to ask himself, in all that was going on; he’d only been conscious for a grand total of less than an hour today. “I don’t know,” Vlad replied after a few moments’ thought. “I just moved without thinking.”

Danny was watching him carefully when Vlad glanced at him again.

“What now?” Vlad asked. He was still exhausted despite the sleep, and he didn’t care to be pestered with difficult questions at the moment.

“You’ve been kind of different lately,” Danny mused, his eyes narrowing. “What happened?”

“Will you go away if I tell you?”

“Fine.”

“Very well...” Vlad paused, choosing his words as carefully as he could in his exhausted state. “I recently acquired some information that forced me to reevaluate my previous judgments of your father’s character.”

“Wow. All those words just to admit that you were wrong about my dad,” Danny said with a knowing smirk.

Vlad’s last nerve snapped at the disrespect. He threw caution to the wind. “Well it’s not every day that a love letter written years ago finally reaches me,” Vlad said, making a show of examining the backs of his fingernails. “So raw and heartfelt, too. Jack certainly meant it when he wrote it.”

Danny stared at Vlad with a mix of shock and horror on his face that Vlad found every bit as amusing as he’d expected it to be. “You’re lying!” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“I can show it to you if you need proof.”

“Ew! I’m not reading that!” Danny leaped into the air and gave Vlad a glare. “Don’t— Don’t think this is over just cause you’re not trying to kill my dad anymore! I’m watching you!”

Vlad burst out laughing; watching the boy try to act intimidating now was just too funny. “Watch all you like. Maybe you’ll see some of that proof for yourself.”

“Ugh!” With that final declaration of disgust Danny went intangible and flew up through the ceiling, leaving Vlad alone at last.

The mirth remained as Vlad drifted off to sleep again. He would find a way to deal with the repercussions later; it had been worth it just to see the look on Danny’s face.

~~~

Jack was seated next to the bed when Vlad woke up next.

“My lab had better be spotless when I see it again,” Vlad said as he looked over at Jack.

“Don’t you worry, V-man. It’s as tidy as when I found it,” Jack said, giving him a thumbs-up.

“We’ll see about that,” Vlad grumbled. At least the lab would be cleaner than he’d seen it earlier. It was better than nothing. He stared at Jack for a few moments as he made up his mind; the lingering exhaustion had caused his previous hesitation to evaporate, and he’d already told Danny about the letter...

“Actually, there’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Jack.” Vlad sat up and draped his hands across his lap.

“Er, what’s up?” Jack asked, looking a little worried.

Vlad stared down at his hands for a few moments, then he looked up at Jack as he spoke, “That letter you sent to me, the final one. Did you mean what you said in it?”

“Can you give me a few specifics...?”

“Oh, it was in a sloppy state, lots of corrections, an entire paragraph blotted out that said you wished you could marry me...”

“So it did end up with you...” Jack said slowly. “How did that happen?”

“Some ghost played a prank on you, perhaps?” Vlad suggested. It was somewhat true, in a way. “And your answer? Did you really mean it?”

Jack had no immediate reply for him and stared at the far wall for a while. At last he sighed and scratched the back of his neck, unable to look Vlad in the eye. “Don’t tell Maddie.”

“Don’t tell her? Why? It’s not like you still—” Vlad stopped short as he made the connection. “You don’t still feel that way, do you?!”

“Yeah. I never stopped feeling that way, really,” Jack said, shifting awkwardly on the chair.

“Then why did you never try to reach out to me? You could’ve done so at any point after I got out of the hospital.”

“I thought you didn’t want me in your life anymore,” Jack replied, looking a little hurt. “The letters came back, and you didn’t find me after you got out. So I figured I messed up so badly that you were just done with being my friend, and I didn’t want to bother you after that.”

Vlad stared at Jack as a new wave of emotions crashed down on him: relief, shock, regret, longing... The tension he’d been unconsciously holding onto left his body all at once. His head swam, the room slowly starting to turn around him. It was all—just a little too much to handle at the moment—

He was only out for a few seconds at most, but he woke up with Jack holding him in his arms again.

“Vlad? You alright? What happened?”

It was all still sinking in. He had his answer now. He’d been proven wrong about Jack, and now he had to figure out how to handle that. How to navigate a world where he’d have to smother his own lingering feelings for the man even while knowing that Jack felt the same. He had no idea how Maddie would react when she found out...

“Still a little woozy from healing up,” Vlad replied weakly. “I’ll be better in a moment.”

Everything was different now. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little hopeful, with the warmth of Jack’s arms around him. His pessimism had been disproven before, perhaps it would be again...

#Danny Phantom #Vlad Masters #Vlad Plasmius #Jack Fenton #Vlad/Jack #Danny Fenton #Hurt/Comfort #dp fanfic #Kuzannfic #So happy to be able to post this!!

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pistatsia · 7 months

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I believe that for Kaiser, Ness (along with his proficiency as a midfielder) is also an unconscious response from his bad coping mechanisms.

He's a manifestation of his problems and most of all - of his insecurities.

Okay, I've said (wrote) it.

Like, we all agree that he has some... issues, and most of them come from the insecurity. Narcissists (though I don't believe Kaiser fully is a one) often have a really fragile, insignificant, small 'me'. And the worst part? They may not realize it, but they can feel it. What do you have to do to not feel it, to try to remove your non-ideality? Put up a fake, but awesome, ideal-like personality. And constantly, constantly prove that that's who you are by any means necessary - or even better, directly show that you're not just good, but better than someone.

Sound similar? To create a 'new me', to destroy others and feel happy, to come to the other side of the world to crush your opponent, proving that you are stronger before the World Championship, where all eyes will be on you?

Except that just having a new, perfect identity and winning 'for yourself' is not enough. How do you know you're perfect if you're building that ideal for others in the first place? Kaiser's false identity needs to be seen; he needs to be bathed in love, to feel other people's obsession and delight, anything to assure himself that he is indeed perfect. How do you do that?

The reasonable answer? Find someone to do it, preferably someone with low self-esteem and/or insecurity, make them believe you are 'perfect' and then drink all the admiration, love and awesomeness out of them until you are saturated. Only the 'saturation' never comes.

That's the kind of person Ness is to him.

And in the end he gets Ness - moreover, I'm sure he's been shaping him gradually, molding him, making him react exactly the way he needs him to - and until Blue Lock, as is obvious from Ness's reactions, this fragile system worked smoothly. He could show him love, he could give him care, he could surround him in every possible way, binding him to himself more - and "how dare Kaiser look at anyone but me" and Ness's shocked reactions to insults seem to indicate that there was also a "honeymoon" period, the main purpose of which was to bind Ness to himself. Ness is something conventionally stable but mid-level for Kaiser, something he can definitely possess and who will never walk away from him. Someone who admires him (even though deep down Kaiser may know that he doesn't, because his real self is not at all what he shows on the outside), who sort of shows him that yes, you are perfect! I admire you! You're everything to me! I would die without you! You're everything! And what does that mean? That Kaiser is supposedly as perfect as he wants to be.

Ness is the evidence base for his exceptionalism.

Well, somewhere Ness is not enough, somewhere he's restricting, and what? At least (so far) there's no emotional upheaval, such a perverse safety-trap. Kaiser has him under control, and consciously or unconsciously, but easily knows how to manipulate him to get the reaction he wants.

And I'm sure that even if he did feel some surrogacy of such a relationship, even if he wanted someone else for a long, permanent period of time, he wouldn't change a thing. He may not be comfortable with Ness, he may want something more, someone else, but Ness is his safe base. He's not willing to risk rejection from someone bright like Isagi/Sae. Because deep down he knows he won't be able to keep a stronger/better partner. Oh, and neither can a midfielder (imagine the same Sae). He's not enough. People who are successful usually have their own boundaries that they keep - they are independent, they will always have something else, someone else to admire and talk about, they won't be consumed by him the way Kaiser needs it, won't depend on him completely and play by his rules, and it will kill him - Kaiser, for whom admiration and adoration of whom is the main fuel. Food and a way to survive.

What would it say about him if someone would leave him? Someone strong, successful, handsome?

That he's not perfect.

And that's the realization that Kaiser runs from the most.

Which is why, as long as Ness fuels all of his worst traits, they're stuck with each other.

#uhhh #they're so broken and so beautifully tied together #kainess #blue lock #bllk #michael kaiser #alexis ness #blue lock analysis #bllk analysis

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achaotichuman · 6 months

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An AU where tamlin (disguised as female) and rhysand fall in love tthen tamlins like wait i have to tell u something then rhys finds outs hes tamlin and undergoes a sexuality crisis

YES, I LOVE THIS PROMPT. Don't know why but this is giving me a Cinderella retelling vibe. Btw sorry for the late response anon, but here's how I think this would go down.

*Trigger Warning- Innuendoes, non-explicit mature content.*

The white trail of her dress was like an angel's wings dragging across stone carved from the mountains of Hell. Lace lined her arms and the top of her breasts. A long slit ran up the side of her thigh, revealing the same lace work hugging her legs.

Golden hair spilled down her back and shoulders, flowers and rings of gold weaved through those luscious strands. Her shoulders and collarbone deliciously bare, off the shoulder sleeves hung over the lace of her forearms. An angel indeed, left in the company of devils.

Rhysand watched her from his throne. His eyes locked in on those slender legs as they moved her through the crowd. The females eyed her, disgust twisting in their face, constricting their eyes and noses. Males stepped out of her way as she moved past them like fluid.

A powerful, or perhaps idiotic, decision to wear such garments, not a stain on the white silk. A symbol of purity, as if anyone from this Godforsaken city could be called pure.

She looked up to the throne set high above the people below it. Her eyes were of the deepest green, as if they had been sucked from the heart of a forest, flecked with gold like stars. Their gazes locked and for a moment, the world ceased to exist, everything turning to a black void and low drone of voices. Even though her head was tilted up to see him, Rhysand couldn't help but feel like she was looking down on him, like his existence was worth little more to her than whoever else wished for her presence in bed, or hand in marriage.

Then she turned away, she turned away and every nerve in his body burned for her to look at him again.

What was this strange, heady feeling? Rhysand tilted his head, watching as she walked back into the crowd, unable to disappear from view, as she was a sliver of light in the sea of black and deep Night Court purple.

'Are you staring at her?' A familiar laughing voice boomed in his head. Rhysand allowed the smallest of smirks as he cast his eyes in the direction of his friend and General.

Cassian grinned back from his place beside Azriel, stationed close to the throne but not close enough that they overshadowed him.

'There are many 'hers' here tonight, Cass, enlighten me on which you speak of.'

'Oh, don't be so formal, High lord. The pretty one in the white dress, everyone's lookin at her.' He murmured it in such a low tone Rhysand had to suppress the urge to snap.

'Careful Cass,' Azriel murmured through the mental bond, 'Rhysand's already called first bite.'

'There is no first bite, Azriel.' Rhysand replied smoothly, 'Though it is a... proud choice to wear such clothing.'

'A cocky choice more like it.' There was Mor, Rhysand was wondering when she would but in with her opinion, 'To wear robes like that when our Court uniform is solely black, blue and purple is insulting at the least, an act of defiance at worst.'

'Calm yourself, Mor. She hasn't done anything as of yet.' Rhysand drawled.

'Apart from looking like an angel with her wings cut off.' Cassian said.

'Get back to work you three.' Rhysand ordered, shutting out the tones of his friends before resuming his former position, sitting on an oversized throne being bored as all Hell.

Rhysand scanned the ballroom again, watching the waltzing taking place before him. The deep, low tones of the music in the air hummed like background noise, nothing more than decorative festivities meant to give the people an opportunity to move their bodies in a fashion that wasn't simply standing around.

Music had never been the Hewn City's strong point. Such artistry was better off in Velaris, where good people could actually be found.

Rhysand sighed, if the Darkbringer's army wasn't so powerful he would have had Azriel and Cassian bring the foundations of this place down and allow the wicked cruelty festering down here to be crushed. That's all these people deserved after all.

Too lost in his own bored musings, Rhysand failed to notice the swift, silent steps coming for him until she was standing directly before him.

Rhysand near jolted but forced his body to remain calm. Up close she was even more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.

Her arms were toned and muscular, her waist clipped and hips flaring out to show off curvy thighs. For a moment the urge to grab them squeeze pricked his mind.

"You are standing before the throne, yet you are not on your knees?" Rhysand hummed, his voice deceivingly kind.

The female before him wasn't stupid and he figured that out quickly by the hardened glare she gave him. But it was clear to see she lacked fear of consequence, because the first words she spoke to him were, "Do you always just sit on your ass on this throne, or will you actually mingle with your own people?"

Rhysand opened and closed his mouth, completely and utterly at a loss for words.

"I beg your pardon."

"My pardon is granted; now will you answer my question?"

Rhysand stared at her, unable to form a coherent sentence that did not entail yelling his indignation. So, he opted for a gentle brush of his talons against her mind.

Finally, she narrowed her eyes and took a slight step back on instinct, remembering how dangerous the male before her truly was.

"Are you drunk, lady? Or perhaps do you lack self-preservation? You stand before my throne, asking insulting questions and assuming you give pardon to me?"

She tilted her head to the side as if she was truly pondering his question, "It has been mentioned that I lack any real self-preservation, but I like to call it a lack of tolerance for entitled self-serving Night Court royals."

Rhysand couldn't help it, he snorted, a quick, genuine sound. He had no idea how it even slipped past his defenses. Her lips quirked up in a slight grin, counting his reaction as a win on her side. He quickly coughed into his hand trying to cover the sound but that only seemed to serve to amuse her more.

"What is your purpose in antagonizing me, lady?"

"I am not antagonizing; I am asking a genuine question. Are you going to sit on your ass for the whole party, or will you join the festivities?"

"I'd hardly call this," He gestured to the stiff, tense dancing- if one could call it that- taking place below them, "Dancing."

She glanced at the people behind her, then she looked over him again. Her green eyes so sharp as they swooped up and down him like a predator's watchful gaze.

Even though she was but another Hewn City citizen that he could have tortured and executed if he wished for it, Rhysand couldn't help but feel as though he was not the one in control.

"Perhaps the people would be more responsive if their ruler joined them instead of sitting up so high above them." She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to her left leg as she waited for his reaction.

"Who are you to tell me how to rule my people?"

She grinned at his scowl. A grin with bone white teeth and sharp, gleaming fangs. Between that glowing smile and the way those gold specks in her eyes seemed to shine brighter, Rhysand felt his world shift from one side to the other and it was dizzying.

"I am the person telling you to get off your ass and come dance." She said.

Rhysand blinked his violet eyes; she blinked her green ones back.

"Are-are you asking me to dance?"

"No."

"No?"

She took his hand in her own. Her hands weren't soft and dainty, no, they were calloused and firm. Hands like his. Hands that were used.

She tugged and Rhysand, adding horror to curiosity, followed her silent order. He stood up.

The High lord was marginally taller than the female before him. But he was surprised at her height regardless. In a good set of heels, she would surely surpass him.

She was playing some game, doing something to him that Rhysand couldn't figure out.

"Asking would insinuate you had a choice to dance or not, you're dancing with me, that's final." Her cheeky pink tongue slid across her fangs, red spread across Rhysand's face. A strip of blotchy red that undoubtedly did not escape her cunning eyes.

Sucking in a breath, Rhysand tried to find the will to rebuke her. But before he even got a sentence out, she was pulling him down to the dance floor.

Looking out at the sea of people. Rhysand watched as jaws dropped and eyes widened. Even the music from the orchestra faltered for a moment as eyes went to the feared High lord of Night being half-dragged by a strange, beautiful female in a dress of pure white.

When Rhysand's eyes snapped to those watching they quickly resumed their ministrations. Pointedly not making any eye-contact with the Lord or the mysterious lady.

Once in the center of the room, she spun on her heel and put a hand to his shoulder, forcibly placing his hand on her waist. Then she smiled up at him. A beautiful display of pearly whites with a sweet gaze.

"Well High lord? Show us all what talents you keep hidden while you're sitting on the throne."

*** "What do you mean she can't be found?!" Rhysand yelled, Azriel didn't so much as flinch, Rhysand did notice the slight roll of his eyes.

"I mean no one can find her. Like she just," Azriel gestured to nothing, "Disappeared into the night air, and from what I've gathered, no one had ever seen her before."

"What does that mean?" The High lord hissed, knowing very well what that meant.

"It means your little crush wasn't from the Hewn City, somehow she snuck in there. Which means she could be from anywhere."

"Impossible. It's impossible to leave the Hewn City or enter it without my permission." Rhysand stood up from his chair, walking away from his desk and towards the large window behind him. Looking out over the view of Velaris. Soft evening sun was upon the world, casting tall shadows over the ground and filling the air with a soft cool breeze. The scattered lights of the city looked like stars on Earth.

"Even if she somehow snuck in as you say, she couldn't have left. The security is to tight."

"I don't know what to tell you Rhysand, she danced with you then disappeared."

"Impossible." Rhysand repeated shaking his head.

Her waist in his hand had been like heaven pressed against him. Looking down into her eyes are they moved, spun and turned had been a religious experience. Nothing in the world compared to her long fingers travelling up his neck to brush the underside of his chin. No drug in the world could ever get him higher then when she had let him spin her away from the ballroom.

"Hello, Night Court to Rhysand!" Cassian smacked the side of his head. Rhysand reeled around and went to punch him right in the throat, but the larger male caught his arm before he could get close.

"Give it up, Rhys, it's been a week. The girl's not comin back." His General told him.

"You don't get it, Cass. She..." How could he move on from that. From the heady feeling of her hands on his body, travelling to find any skin not protected by his clothing. Nothing could compare to her heavenly voice whispering back-handed compliments and jokes about him stepping on her toes.

"Cassian's right, Rhys. Let it go. Who knows? Maybe you'll find her again. For now, we have other priorities." Azriel insisted.

With a strained groan, Rhysand turned back to the window and put his hands to his head.

They were right, of course they were right.

But how could he focus on other things when he could only feel her lips on his skin when he led her out into the dark, empty hallways, away from the ballroom?

***

He dreamt of her. He dreamt of that night. Of her dress flaring out, brushing his legs as they danced. He dreamt of her laughter, a honey-sweet sound in the midst of so much darkness. He dreamt of her knowing smile, and the expression on her face. As if whatever game she was playing, she had won.

He dreamt of whispering in her ear. Turning up his charm, trying, near desperate for a chance as she seduced him within an inch of his life.

He dreamt of her hands wrapping around the collar of his shirt and her telling him to make it worth her while.

Pinning her against the cold wall. Rhysand buried his nose into the crook of her neck. She laughed and buried her fingers in his dark hair, pulling until he looked back into her eyes.

She smirked, a glint of danger in her eyes. Quicker than his hazy brain could think, she jutted her head down and nipped his neck, leaving a small bite mark. Rhysand near lost his damn mind. Roughly grabbing her hips he shoved her more forcefully against the wall. His own head going down onto her neck. Leaving darkened bruises on her pale skin.

She clicked her tongue, "So rough, needy, are we?"

"Gods above."

"The Gods aren't down here, High lord. No one but the devil is watching our sins." She murmured in such a seductively low tone; Rhysand may have lost a part of his mind to her in that very moment.

Trying to keep his thoughts on one track. Rhysand moved his hands up and down her thighs, bunching her skirts in his hands. Her breaths turned heavy, and her face went a splotchy red. Rhysand felt a smirk matching hers curling on his lips.

"You're right. No one's here to see how the Lord of Night plays with such alluring delights like you."

"All talk. No play." She drawled.

"Not one for foreplay, darling?"

"I'm one for proving you know how to wield the thing between your legs, darlin."

Rhysand loosened a near feral noise. But as he went to push back her skirts to reveal what was between her legs, the loud ringing of the stroke of midnight rang true through the Hewn City.

She sucked in a breath and drew back from him, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Is something amiss, lady?" Rhysand asked, trying to keep the hot, heady feeling of the moment but concerned for her reaction.

"Midnight." She whispered.

"Yes, lady." Perhaps she was on a curfew, that was true for a great number of females in this City, "Do not worry over any curfew, I will grant you-"

"No," She sharply pulled away from him, forcing his hands off her, "No, no, I have to leave."

"Lady, I-"

"This was good," She smiled, it was girlish smile that he hadn't seen before, almost an apology for her hasty escape, "This was good, but I must go."

Then she was sprinting down the hall. Dress following her like a cape. Rhysand watched her, stunned into immobility.

He looked at the place she had just been, then a vital thought crossed his mind. He didn't have her name. Without another thought, the High lord of Night found himself racing after her.

"Lady! My Lady, wait!" He called out, but she didn't slow. Grabbing the edge of a corner she whirled around and was gone from Rhysand's eyes.

As he rounded the corner and stared down the dark hallway. She was gone. Disappeared into thin air. If it weren't for her floral scent clinging to everything he was, he would've convinced himself she was never there.

***

Rhysand dug his spoon into the tasteless porridge before him. Flinging small scraps onto the table. He pointedly didn't look at any of his family.

After Rhysand set his cup of near empty coffee on the table with an unnecessarily loud clang, Mor growled, "Rhysand, what is your problem?"

"Nothing is my problem, Morrigan." He hissed back, finally looking up to meet her equally hateful stare.

"He's lusting after the angel he saw two weeks ago in the Hewn City. Mad he can't find her again." Cassian dobbed on him. Grinning as he swallowed his own breakfast.

"Angel? You mean the girl wearing white?" Morrigan rolled her eyes, "She was arrogant for wearing that. It was practically bridal wear."

"She looked like a Goddess on Earth." Rhysand cut her off.

Morrigan levelled him with a hard stare, "Rhysand, leave the shitty poetry for Tamlin."

Azriel nearly choked on his coffee as he started giggling, his shoulders shaking. Rhysand growled at all of them, "I don't understand how no one has seen her since. Azriel, instead of laughing, how about you go and make sure the sentries at the Hewn City aren't skimping on their jobs?"

Azriel held up his hands, in an 'I'm innocent' manner, "Don't snap at me. I have checked every nook and cranny. Skewered every sentry for information. No one saw her enter, and no one saw her leave."

Cassian hummed in a low tone, "There could be a weakness in the Hewn Cities defenses allowing people to enter and leave as they please."

"Which means you both check again. From top to bottom, side to side, I don't want one household, one corridor, one room unaccounted for."

"Yes, Lord fell in love after one dance." Cassian taunted as he stood from the dining table. Looking at Azriel, he jutted his head to the door and the Shadowsinger nodded. Standing up he gave Rhysand a warning glare, before he followed his brother out the door.

Only Mor and Rhysand were left in the room. Not for long as Morrigan stood up, picking up her plate before she looked down at Rhysand.

"That female was in the wrong for wearing a white dress. Don't waste your feelings on such women." Mor warned him, before disappearing as well.

Rhysand never got the chance to tell his cousin, that the cocky, self-assured attitude that female had was half the reason he was going insane for her.

***

A year passed and Rhysand never saw the female again. But he didn't forget that night. It repeated in his head over and over. He examined every word, every expression, every shift of her lips or eyebrows. Every movement of her dress shifting on her body. He didn't forget. Couldn't forget. In his hottest fantasies he sought out the feeling of her skin under his fingers, in his darkest nightmares it was her warmth he was drawn too.

Over and over, he spun himself in circles. Trying to forget and move on, but lulled back into her memory like she lived in his head. Always finding him, never letting him leave. At times Rhysand wanted nothing more than to comb through every household, every road, every path in Prythian just to hear her laughter in the distance. Other times he wanted to rip out his mind and meticulously pick her memory out of his head, just so he could focus on something else without her smile lurking in the corner of his thoughts.

Cassian and Azriel had long accepted he was going to take a good long while to get over her. So, they resorted to simple teasings and rolling their eyes. Morrigan was less inclined to entertain his pining. Snapping at him whenever his mysterious lover came up. Becoming colder and more reserved. He didn't know whys he was so affected by her. Why she hated the idea of this woman just for wearing white.

He supposed it should've been considered an insult for her to wear such as color when she had nowhere near the authority. But Rhysand couldn't bring himself to care.

He wouldn't see her again, that he was starting to convince himself of. Finally, on solstice when he went the whole day without thinking about her, Rhysand thought he was ridding himself of her.

Then he was invited to a solstice celebration, hosted by Helion.

They all went. Everyone did. Even the other High lords. The Day Court palace had been transformed into a party, decorated with gold and lights that swirled in his vision. The drone of voices filled the air. The smells of good food and wine enticed Rhysand to fall away from his entourage not long after they arrived. Blending into the crowd. Rhysand found a male offering drinks to all, he took a glass and sipped on the delectable liquid whilst observing the party from the outskirts.

People danced, spinning around, twirling, pushing and pulling. Music was in the air, blending into the mix of laughter and chatter.

"Don't have a throne to sit your ass on," Every part of Rhysand's body was set on fire as he heard the voice that haunted his dreams whispering in his ear. He couldn't even turn as a too familiar hand slid down his chest, "So you're standing out here, avoiding everyone."

Rhysand finally forced his eyes to turn, and there she stood. His memory did her no justice, for she glowed with an alluring nature that his mind could not capture. Those golden curls were decorated with the same flowers and golden rings as before, except tonight a pair of striking antlers stood out like a crown.

Instead of that heart-stopping white dress, she wore something very different but equally as royal, equally made Rhysand wished to tear it away. A suit of dark emerald, green, a pressed white shirt underneath a waistcoat decorated with striking golden embroidery that swirled in the shape of flowers. A long jacket made with the same material as the waistcoat covered her arms and slid around her waist. Rhysand wanted to rip it away and place his hands on her waist once more.

"It's you." He breathed, unable to say anything more.

"Miss me, High lord?" She murmured, voice falling into that seductive low tone. Rhysand went weak, becoming nothing but putty for her hands.

Near shaking, Rhysand took both her hands in his. Gently pressing a kiss to each finger, he whispered against her skin, "Dearly."

She took in a breath, when he looked up, he saw her green eyes were soft. Her face ethereal, warm in the light, divine like a Goddess.

"I missed you too." She admitted.

"My darling-" He started, then she pressed a finger to his lips.

"Come with me somewhere... private." She said, looking out at the sea of people.

His blood started racing. Heat warmed his cheeks. As much as Rhysand wanted to take her against the floor where they stood, he found a different desire was battling his sexual ones. The urge to pull her close, breathe in her scent and forget the rest of the world existed was getting stronger by the minute.

She held onto his hands tightly. Then she moved, dragging him along behind him like she did when she took him off the throne. Rhysand went more than willingly. She kept them in the shadows of the party. Not a soul paid them any attention.

They found an empty balcony. She all but shoved him out then closed the curtains and the glass door.

Finally, she tuned back to him. Oh gods, if she looked beautiful in the warm chandelier light, she looked bewitching in the silver of the moon. Rhysand nearly dropped to his knees. In that moment, if the female before him told him to martyr himself in her name, he would've and he would've done it smiling.

How did one person he met a year ago have such a hold over him?

"Darling." He meant to purr the word, but it came out broken, desperate, near begging. He planted his hand on her hips and pulled her close. Pressing his nose into crook of her neck like he had in his dreams an unaccountable number of times, "My darling."

She slid her hands up his chest and Rhysand felt higher than the moon itself. Felt like he was amongst the stars themselves.

Then she pushed him away. Rhysand panicked for a moment. Fear took hold of him, strangling him till he couldn't breathe. Fear she would run away. Fear he would never see her again.

"Wait-" he started. Then she grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, keeping him at an arm's length but not letting go. It eased only a sliver of his worry.

"Rhysand," She murmured. Oh, gods his name on her tongue was like being handed a slice of heaven itself.

"Yes, my darling."

"I... you have to forget me." She told him.

Everything spinning his world came to a crashing halt, "My... my lady, I-"

"Forget me, forget everything about me. This cannot be." She told him, beginning to let go of his collar. Beginning to let go of him.

He was quicker than her this time. This time he didn't let her leave him. He took hold of her waist and pulled her back to him.

"What do you mean it cannot be?"

"I cannot be with you, you not with me. It would never work. It... we can't."

"We can." Perhaps she was already engaged? A forced marriage maybe? Or was she worried about someone low-ranking being with a High lord.

"Rhysand-"

"It will work, I will make it work. I will kill any that need to be killed. I will fix anything that needs to be fixed. I will get on my knees for you if that's what you want, please just... don't leave me again."

Tears pooled in her eyes; Rhysand desperately wanted to get rid of them.

"There is something about me you must know Rhysand." She said.

"Tell me, whatever it is, I can handle it." He insisted.

She huffed a laugh and lightly shook her head, "You will hate me once you know it. You will hate me and you will make my life hell for it. I would rather you just forget me."

"No. Never." He nearly shuddered, what could she know that would possible invoke his wrath?

"You are going to hate me." She told him, not a question, a factual statement.

"Tell me anyway." He said.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Stepping away from him she forced him to let go. He felt the need to reach out, but held himself back.

Then in the blink of an eye, she changed. Her suit changed as well to fit the new body it held. Her torso became longer. Her shoulders filled out the shirt more. In a second she was taller, almost exactly his height. Her jaw become more carved, slightly broader. But her eyes, hair and skin stayed the same.

Rhysand felt his mouth fall open as a ringing in his ear drowned out the background noise of the party.

Tamlin pointedly did not look at him. He looked out over the view of the Day Court. Rhysand's eyes could only look him up and down.

"I'm sorry Rhys." Tamlin murmured. His voice deepened, but still rich like the sweetest of honey, "I'm sorry."

How...

"I wanted to escape for one night. I went to the Hewn City, it was the only place completely and utterly removed from Prythian. I saw you and I... it pissed me off how high and mighty you looked. I didn't know how far it would go."

How did...

"I had to go back at midnight, lest Lucien and Andras send out a search party looking for me. But I... I couldn't stop... thinking about you." He whispered the last three words like they were cursed.

How did Rhysand never know?

Everything about Tamlin had remained Tamlin in his female form, except having a more feminine look and high-pitched voice. His personality remained precisely the same. The same sarcastic, dare-devil attitude. The same cocky, self-assured air about him. The same cheeky smart cunningness.

"I'm sorry for leading you on, but I-"

Rhysand laughed; he couldn't stop it. It burst from his throat like a tidal wave. He nearly doubled over. Tears springing from his eyes.

Tamlin's face turned from shock to indignation and finally mild amusement. He crossed his arms and waited for Rhysand to collect himself.

"You done, yet?" Tamlin drawled. Rhysand forced himself to take in a deep breath, controlling himself.

"Yes." Rhysand said.

They both looked at each other. This was the first real one-on-one interaction with each other since... since that night all those years ago.

"Do you hate me?" Tamlin whispered, "Not just for before but... for this?"

Rhysand barely heard the question, too busy watching the way a hair fell from its place to frame Tamlin's face.

"I..."

Did he?

He should. He had to. He had to feel angry for this. For being led on like this.

But he couldn't. The fire he had felt when Tamlin appeared in female form just minutes prior still burned, in fact... it was getting hotter.

"I don't know." Rhysand said.

Tamlin gritted his teeth, not liking that answer. He turned on his heel, striding away from Rhysand. He opened the glass door and called over his shoulder, "Well when you figure it out,"

Tamlin turned just enough to look Rhysand in the eyes, "You know where to find me."

Tamlin tossed the curtains open and they were faced with the Inner Circle staring at them with wide eyes and open mouths.

Tamlin just gave them a cocky grin and a wave before he strolled away. Heading for Lucien and Andras who called him over, oblivious to what had just occurred.

***

No one had spoken to him. And Rhysand didn't speak to them. Once they got home, he beeline for his office, shut and locked the door. They all assumed he was humiliated. Embarrassed at having been obsessed with the male he claimed to loathe.

Rhysand sat in his office for days. The shadow twins brought him meals. Neither speaking, just walking through the walls to hand him whatever they had prepared, then they left.

They all assumed he was thinking of ways to murder the male that had made him insane for a year.

They were all so far from the truth.

Rhysand sat in his chair, staring out at his city, wondering how Tamlin was still stuck in his mind.

He half-expected to at least be only thinking of Tamlin's female form. Still obsessed with how she looked.

But no, his mind wouldn't let him think of her, he could only think of him. Could only think of Tamlin's laughter, Tamlin's smile, Tamlin's face. Tamlin dancing with him. Tamlin touching him. Tamlin beneath him-

Rhysand scrubbed his face with dry hands. Trying to rid his mind of those thoughts.

He shouldn't think like that. He was a High lord for the God's sake. It was his Cauldron-given duty to marry a female. Fuck a female. Put an heir in a female. And give the Court their next High lord. All with a female.

What kind of reasoning was that? He shouldn't be thinking like this because it wasn't him. He didn't... males simply didn't think like that. It was... it wasn't.

What was he trying to convince himself of? Didn't he preach about Velaris being a safe haven for all that wanted to do as they wished with their bodies, give their love to whomever?

Everyone else could do what they wanted. But he couldn't. He wasn't like that. He just wasn't.

Right?

Right.

Tamlin's eyes appeared in his mind's vision and Rhysand nearly flipped his desk.

Slamming his head back against his chair, Rhysand groaned loudly.

He stared up at the ceiling, thinking the untouched white would distract him. It only served to make his mind wonder back into dangerous territory. Tamlin with his hand on Rhysand's shoulder. Tamlin nipping his neck with his sharp teeth. Tamlin grinning as Rhysand went down on his knees-

"God's above." Rhysand whispered.

'The Gods aren't down here, High lord. No one but the devil is watching our sins.'

Instead of a female's voice murmuring, it was Tamlin's. Rhysand lost his own breath for a moment, eyes shuddering closed.

Rhysand forced his eyes open. He forced himself to stand up, roughing brushing himself off. He looked out at the view of Velaris.

Hands trembling. He roughly threw open the window. Wings appearing on his back as his wards dropped. He fell into the wind and shadows of Night.

'Do you hate me?' That torturous voice whispered in the cavern of his memory.

"No." Rhysand spoke into the night as his wings snapped out and he shot up into the clouds.

"How could I ever hate the best thing that ever happened to me?"

The twins would go into his office the next morning with breakfast, and they would find an empty room. Mor would be frantic, and Cass and Az would search Velaris from top to bottom.

But they wouldn't find him, because Rhysand was going to the place his mind and heart had been stolen too.

Rhysand was going to Spring.

Rhysand was going to Tamlin.

Thank you so much for this prompt! It was very fun to write!

By the way this is what I imagine Tamlin's dress in the Hewn City to look like. Found this image on my Pinterest feed.

And here's the inspiration for Tam's suit at the Day Court party.

#acotar #tamlin #pro tamlin #rhysand #rhyslin #tamsand #tamsand au #acotar au #anon asks #acotar headcanons #rhysand being obsessed #as per usual

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