#i changed it because i was on the fence of it even being necessary so please dont think you were being a buzzkill and made me change it

[mo-mode]

Back on my Screenwriter soap box while watching PJO: They should have bought a bunch of oil diffusers.

(Edit: This post was made before someone pointed out to me that I missed a key line of dialogue, but my points and theories still stand for the same reasons backing up my original post so I’m not changing anything. The dialogue I missed lets us know that Hermes told Percy the lotus was being pumped into the air off-screen. It’s also implies (? I’m still on the fence about this one?) that Hermes told him what day it is, but I missed these during my first three watches because of how quick and vague it was. Which actually kind of supports my point on why visual indicators are so important. Without these, it’s easy to miss key information. And remember, it’s a kid’s show. ANYWAY my conclusions haven’t changed, and I still believe these edits would work better than the quick line of dialogue so just keep this in mind. Thanks.)

(I’m not being nit-picky. I swear. Just hear me out.) So the weirdest thing to me in episode six was how Percy just…learned everything so quickly without any visual indicators? Like they know time passed because it’s dark outside, but how did he know it was Thursday? They know they were affected by the lotus flowers, but how does he know it was pumped into the air? This irked me because even if he’s smart enough to figure some of this out himself (which he is) we as the audience should still be able to follow his thought process instead of learning after the fact.

What if there were oil diffusers?

So imagine the trio walks into the Lotus, figures out this is like the Odyssey, and decides not to eat anything. They waltz in super confident that they cracked the code, but they were wrong. How do we know? Because the moment they enter the crowd, we get an establishing shot of a lotus-branded oil diffuser letting out steam.

Immediately, we as the audience realize their mistake, making it just that more tantalizing to watch. As the episode continues, we realize they’re everywhere. There’s a diffuser in the plants, on the counter, between the game tables, always right out of the corner of our eyes. They just keep churning out lotus-scented oil into the air, which we can infer because we’re smart. (Remember that.)

Now when Percy realizes what’s going on, we know HOW they’re doing it and HOW Percy knows without being told!! Because they were there the whole time.

Onto Thursday.

Consider: A watch.

What if Hermes has the only watch in the casino until the trio walks in with their own?

Let’s give Annabeth one of those cheap, funky watches that gives the time, day, month, year, etc. Something you get from a kids toy catalogue. It’s waterproof, glows in the dark, has an alarm or whatever. I feel like Annabeth would have one of those. (And honestly, she might already. I forgot.) The most important feature for us, though, is the day. It clearly tells us the day of the week.

It’s pretty easy to establish that Annabeth has the watch. Just do it the same way they establish the date: Percabeth arguing over it in the truck. Annabeth shows him the watch. Establishing shot of the watch’s face. That’s it. No bells or whistles necessary. Then when they get to the casino, Annabeth checks it one more time (without an establishing shot, she just does it casually) and they walk in.

(It’s so easy. I promise.)

While Grover is walking around alone, he tries to check the time and realizes there’s no clocks. (Which ngl is super common in casinos already, but it’s creepy nonetheless.) Yada yada, he gets sucked in by Augustus and that’s how he gets got.

Meanwhile, Percy and Annabeth keep meaning to check the time, but every time they do, someone tries to hand them an appetizer or a drink, which makes them forget OR Annabeth’s hubris keeps her from checking. (Percy: Time check? Annabeth: Its only been five minutes. We’re fine. We need to focus.)

And that brings us to Hermes. After their chat, yada yada, Annabeth “leaves” and Hermes gets all cryptic, then he makes a BIG show of checking his watch, and THAT’S when Percy realizes something’s wrong because oh no they haven’t checked the time. So he finds Annabeth, they see it’s dark outside, they check her watch, and it’s Thursday.

“But we didn’t eat anything!” Annabeth says. Percy looks at the diffusers by the entrance. It dawns on him. “They’re pumping it into the air.”

That’s how you VISUALLY SHOW US THINGS instead of Percy just figuring everything out off-camera and telling us!!!!

Now, you may be thinking “Oh but do they have the budget for that??” Do you know how cheap these props are? Just bulk buy like six oil diffusers, slap a homemade sticker of a lotus flower on them, and keep moving them into every shot. And they’re quiet!! They wouldn’t interfere with the sound, the steam is visible enough to be caught on camera without messing with the lighting, they actually look really cool in some lighting, and they fit the atmosphere of a hotel/casino!! Then the watch is like $15, fits with Annabeth’s character, and totally matches her outfit.

It’s CHEAP! It’s EASY! It DOESN’T CUT INTO THE RUN TIME! It’s AESTHETICALLY PLEASING! ANNABETH GETS A SICK WATCH!! NO DOWNSIDES!!!!

The biggest problem with this show isn’t how accurate it is to the book or how much money they have or that they’re “Disney-fying” it. The problem is they are TELLING US things instead of SHOWING us. And not to beat a dead horse because everyone’s heard of “Show Don’t Tell” but like??? This is exactly why everyone is taught this over and over again in school?? Because people still do it anyway all the time???

There’s also something else I learned (or really just picked up) when I got my B.A. in Creative Writing: Good shows are predictable.

Whether it’s a case of the audience learning what’s going to happen before it happens or them watching the show again and realizing how obvious the answer was the whole time, audiences always want to feel smart. They want to interact with the material. If you don’t give them the opportunity to pick apart the mystery themselves by setting down clues, they’ll give up on interacting with the show and lose interest. That’s why you SHOW them things. There are several moments where this show is completely unpredictable, not because it’s complex but because it doesn’t let you predict it. That doesn’t make it bad—the comedy and character development is doing a great job of carrying the show’s weight so far. But it definitely doesn’t make the show good.

It’s like Rube Goldberg machines. Or dominoes! We don’t watch those crazy 1000+ domino videos so we can watch the last one fall. We watch it to see HOW they fall. Take one domino out, and it’s unsatisfactory. It doesn’t work anymore.

But some oil diffusers and a watch??? Little clues that make the realization that more visually appealing??? THAT’S SATISFYING

Anyway, these are just two things that could have been done, but weren’t. Most of the show is stellar. I think it just needs a little bit of editing here and there. I studied this for like years, and I needed to get this off my chest. That’s it.

Rick Riordan, if you ever see this, I am available for hire :) I would love to be a script doctor please please please please

#THIS IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME YOU DONT UNDERSTAND #I swear I can be so helpful Rick #hire me #i’m a screenwriter i promise i’m legit #btw this is NOT an opportunity to say you hate the show in the notes I will find you #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #percy jackson tv show #pjo spoilers #percy jackson the lightning thief #pjo series #screenwriting #grover underwood #annabeth chase #hermes

[auras-moonstone]

passionate as sin — ethan landry

word count: 2.6k

pairing: camp counselor!ethan landry x camp counselor!fem!reader

summary: ethan and y/n find out that kissing is more passionate when hatred is involved and fraternising is considered a sin.

warnings: none!

The rivalry between Garden Gate Camp and Holiday House Camp was something exciting for the campers and dreading for the owners. Y/N's family camp had existed for way too long, due to it being a family legacy. And then, just a few short years ago, the Landrys appeared in the picture to make their lives a mess by setting their camp right next to theirs. While the newest one was more advanced and modern, the other one was cozier and homier.

To summerise it, the business competition created hatred and enmity between these two families, especially between the dads—although Y/N and Ethan came in close second.

The two teenagers have spent their summers arguing and pulling pranks on each other ever since they met. One would think that now, being 20-year-olds, they would've grown out of a prank war that started when they were 15.

"Nice shirt! Your dad will love it." the curly-haired boy laughed once Y/N stepped out of the dressing room.

"You're a pervert, I was showering!" Y/N hit him with her wet towel, causing him to whimper in pain.

The boy had sneaked into the dressing room and changed her Garden Gate Camp counselor t-shirt for a Holiday House Camp one. "Don't worry, I made sure to hear the water running before I got in. Let me take a pic, this will be good for our socials."

"You put your phone near my face and I'll make you swallow it." Y/N said between gritted teeth.

"Fine, fine." he put his phone back on his pocket. "You look good in that shirt."

"You could've at least given me the right size." she groaned as she tried to fix the shirt that barely reached her belly button and was tight as leather. "I don't think I can get out of it. For real."

"I'll gladly help you with that." Ethan smirked, which motivated her to hit him with the heavy towel again. "Ouch! Y/N, it's a wet towel, it fucking hurts."

"That's why I'm hitting you with it, Einstein!"

"Whatever." Ethan said rubbing his arm. "There's a party tonight, at my camp. You and your friend are invited."

Y/N frowned. "First of all, why the hell are you inviting me? Second, I'd rather die than get caught at your stupid party."

"I'm not inviting you because I want to." he scoffed, as if the implication of wanting her there was ridiculous. "My friend, Anika, is interested in your friend Mindy and she asked me to invite her. I assume she wouldn't like going alone, so you can go too, I guess."

"So thoughtful." she rolled her eyes. "No promises."

"So you won't go?" Ethan asked.

Y/N's shoulders slumped. "I guess I will, but just because Mindy is interested in her too."

"Awesome." the boy said with fake enthusiasm. "Party starts at midnight."

"Can't wait." she showed him her fakest smile.

"By the way, I wasn't lying. You really do look good in that shirt." he said before leaving.

Y/N walked away, cheeks on fire. He was an irritating, infuriating, exhasperating asshole. But he was also hotter than hell, which made him even more annoying because she couldn't help but feel heated by his words.

Y/N and Mindy managed to sneak in through the fence that separated both camps. The owner's daughter still couldn't comprehend why it had been necessary for the Landrys to set a camp just right next to another one. But oh well, it was what it was.

"There they are." Y/N tilted her head towards Anika and Ethan, who were doing their job as counselors in one corner.

"Hey, thanks for doing this." Mindy said as they made their way to them.

“Of course, Minds. I know how much you like her.”

“I was hoping you’d change your mind.” Ethan spoke with an exaggerated tone of disappointment when the girls reached them.

“And pass the opportunity to annoy you in your own territory? No way.” Y/N flashed him a venomous smile before turning to Anika. “Hey, Ani. Nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you too, Y/N/N” she smiled sweetly. Despite the rivalry Y/N had with her friend, she had always been super kind to Anika. “Want to dance, Minds?”

“Sure.” Mindy looked at Y/N, silently asking her if she was okay with it. Y/N sent her a subtle nod, and both girls got lost amongst the campers.

“They’re cute together.” Y/N said.

“They are.” Ethan agreed. He passed her a can of beer, which she thanked with a nod.

“You know, it took two people’s help to get me out of that shirt.”

“And sadly, I wasn’t one of them.” he made a clicking sound with his tongue while shaking his head.

“That’s the second time you mention wanting to get my shirt off me. Are you that desperate?” Y/N smirked, taking a sip of her drink.

Ethan eyed the way her throat moved as she swallowed “And you blush every time I mention it. Are you that desperate?” he mirrored her smirk and took a sip of his beer too. His lips were glistening, soaked by the drink, and for a moment the sight left Y/N in a trance.

She hadn’t noticed how tempting his lips were. They were round and full, and she got the sudden urge to trace them with her finger and feel how soft they were. Y/N looked up and their eyes met. Ethan had caught her eyeing his lips, but he didn’t look smug like she would’ve expected. Instead, he held her stare with intensity and she noticed them turn darker.

The air instantly got thick, their skins turned hot and breaths turned uneven. Their bodies stiffened, feeling their hearts accelerating and a swarm of electricity ran from the top of their heads right to the tip of their toes.

Their magnetic field grew stronger with the passing of seconds, until the mood was broken when something bumped against Y/N’s shoulder, making her fall into Ethan’s side.

“Shit, sorry. Tripped over my own feet.” the guy apologised. He was tall, though not as tall as Ethan. He had short dark brown hair that fell to the sides of his face like a curtain, and an amazing bone structure. He was handsome and Y/N wondered why that camp was filled with such good-looking people.

“It’s okay.” Y/N smiled weakly. She didn’t know if she should be glad or mad that the moment was ruined.

“I’m James, camp counselor.” the guy presented himself. He inspected her face carefully. “Wait, aren’t you Y/N? From Garden Gate?”

“Yup, if you tell anyone you saw me here, I’ll kill you.”

The boy laughed. It was deep and rough, extremely attractive. “My lips are sealed. But I’ll be extra careful if you accept dancing with me.”

Y/N could feel Ethan’s eyes on the side of her face, expectant to hear her answer. James was gorgeous, and in other circumstances she wouldn’t have hesitated, but right now she wasn’t dying to dance with him. On the other hand, if she stayed with Ethan, she’d have to acknowledge the strange moment that happened between them.

“Just for a bit, I’m not much for dancing.” she finally said. And when she felt Ethan’s stare on her back as she walked away with James, part of her regretted her decision.

“What the fuck was that?” Ethan asked, leaning against the wall next to the doorframe, when Y/N exited the bathroom. She had excused herself from the dance floor, leaving James alone, and Ethan took his opportunity to get the irrational anger off his chest.

“You’ll have to be more specific, Landry.”

“You, dancing with James. Didn’t your father teach you not to fraternise with the enemy?” his jaw was clenched and his body burning with rage.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Anika is also fraternising with the enemy, yet I don’t see you mad over that.”

She had a point. Truth was, he had wanted to punch James so badly when he saw his hands gripping Y/N’s waist and the way she was smiling up at him as she swayed her hips in such an hypnotic way. Ethan didn’t know what was going on with him, but he knew that he and Y/N had an undeniable chemistry. And he wanted to dive into it.

“You’re right.” Ethan said after a few seconds.

“Great. Can you move?” Y/N asked, as his tall frame was blocking the door.

He didn’t budge. “You’re not going back to him.” Ethan stated calmly.

Y/N scoffed. “Why do you care if I go back to him or not?”

Ethan took a step closer, leaving them chest to chest. Y/N had to tilt her head up to look at him properly. Her confused eyes made contact with his darkened ones. The kind of dark that made Y/N’s insides melt. She set her hands on his hard chest, while his found her hips.

None of them knew who got rid of the distance, nor did they care. The only thing that mattered was that their lips were pressed together in one heated, breathtaking and passionate kiss.

They kissed like they were liberating the tension they had been accumulating through the years, like they were letting out the anger that every prank, insult, glare and hurtful comment had made them feel. They kissed like it was something they had been wanting to do for a long time and never realized—or never wanted to realize.

“Hate you so much.” Y/N slurred between kisses as she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him inside the bathroom, pining him to the now closed door. “You’re so good at this. I hate you.”

“I hate you more. Seeing you with someone else makes me furious, and I hate you for that.” he descended his kisses to her neck, collarbone and shoulders. Those kisses were softer and slower, as if he just wanted to feel her skin with his lips.

“I hate that your lips are soft and that I’m already addicted to them.” she said as she played with the hair on the nape of his neck.

“I hate how many times I’ve dreamt about this, and I hate even more that this is better than anything I’ve ever imagined.” he lifted her up and set her on the counter.

Y/N’s hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him even closer. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, it makes me so mad.”

“Tell me about it. Just my luck, the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen is also the bane of my existence.” he squeezed the back of her neck.

“Good thing we found something to help us release our anger.” she bit his lip so hard that it drew blood.

“Asshole.” he cursed. Then, an idea passed through his mind and a grin appeared. Before Y/N could address the weird reaction, Ethan attacked her neck making her squirm.

“Ethan, what the fuck!”

“Have fun explaining that to your father, sweetheart.” he smiled devilishly. Stepping back, after giving her one more short kiss, he opened the bathroom door. “See you tomorrow.”

“This changes nothing, prank war is still on.” she said with a glare.

How he loved when she got all angry with him. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. But it does change things, we can still have our little rivalry, hate each other, but I’m the only one who gets to kiss those pretty lips, understood?”

“I don’t know.” she scrunched her nose and gave him teasing eyes. “I’m kinda curious to know how James kisses.”

“You can try, but we both know you’ll came back to me.”

Y/N was sure that was true, but she wasn’t going to admit that. “Oh, yeah? Why so confident?”

“Because our chemistry is unmatched. And because I know that if you truly wanted to know how James kisses, you would’ve already made a move. You always go for what you want.”

The fact that he knew her so well made Y/N’s heart go crazy. “Meet me tomorrow at the fence after 8pm?”

Ethan shook his head, and Y/N hid her disappointment. But then, he went and made her cheeks flush when he said, “That’s seems like eternity, need to see you earlier than that. Before breakfast? At the fence.”

Y/N tried not to smile. “Okay.”

Ethan couldn’t help himself, and walked towards her again to kiss her once more. Just one kiss and they were both turned into fools. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way.”

The thing that started between them was like a sin. Their parents would never approve, but that’s what made it so passionate and exciting.

#ethan landry #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry fic #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry scream #ethan landry x you #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry smut #ethan landry fanfiction #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion oneshot #jack champion imagine #jack champion fluff #jack champion #jack champion fanfic

[sleeplesssmoll]

Reverse1999: I Overlooked an entire Timeskip (spoilers for Ch 3)

And more character analysis because I can't help it. A deeper dive into Vertin and Sonetto's dynamic.

I was under the assumption the time Vertin gave Sonetto the frog and the Break-away events were relatively close but I was mistaken (Why do I have eyes if I'm not going to use them?). Take a look at these avatars. Sorry about the image quality:

This is Vertin and Sonetto in the hallway during the frog event.

This is them during the Parade Ceremony:

Years must have passed after Vertin had her feelings hurt. Look how fluffy Sonetto became and Vertin started putting her hair up. Idk why I didn't notice this right away but the two had more tension between them than I originally thought. Kids feel things very deeply. Even if you're an adult and your memory is foggy, it's easier to recall the way you felt in those moments than the events themselves. This changes some of the context I see things.

These two rarely interacted but are keenly aware of each other's presence for better or worse. Even when Sonetto's confronting her years after the frog event, Vertin is very soft/quiet in those interactions. The usual sass and dry humor we see her treat situations with in Ch 3 is suddenly gone. Also, this is Vertin we're talking about. She's the rulebreaker. She doesn't care about the handbook or the bullies who pick on her. She steps out of line. She asks the questions no one wants to answer. She's used to being berated by teachers but still carries on catching frogs, even if it means getting hurt by the electric fence.

Yet, Sonetto's rejection cut her deeply.

Vertin values Sonetto's opinion above most people's in chapter 3.

On one hand you could say it's because of a crush but on the other hand, maybe she's still hurt from that day in the hallway. Maybe she doesn't know how to handle Sonetto, especially since the top student tends to avoid her unless necessary. Vertin mentions this when Sonetto lends her notes after the tear gas incident. Not to mention her confusion when Sonetto shows up to help her fight Lilya. There's so many things she wants to ask, yet there is not enough time. The two say their goodbyes. Sonetto wants to make sure Vertin won't regret her decision. By leaving, Vertin will be throwing away everything the Foundation gave her. It's symbolic of Vertin the rebel leaving the Foundation's top dog behind.

But the scene invokes sadness rather than triumph. Sonetto was never her enemy. Vertin overcame every moment of hesitation until this point. When the door slowly lowers between them, they watch as it closes. Vertin only leaves once its completely shut.

Despite all this, Vertin never truly left Sonetto behind. Present Vertin remembers Sonetto's quirks and habits from back when they were children (we can see this in the prologue). In Vertin's dreams we see her still wishing to show Sonetto the world. She's living rent free in the Timekeeper's head.

As for Sonetto, I don't think she ever hated Vertin but she was frustrated by her rule breaking. Vertin's already a troublesome student because of her weak arcanum but she exacerbates it by being rebellious. Sonetto won't bite the hand that feeds her. She is grateful for the Foundation's "care".

However, She'll reluctantly come over if Vertin calls, even if she knows Vertin is being a rascal again. She warns Vertin constantly about behaving but we've never seen her snitch. Perhaps she knows what will happen if she does. Vertin will get hurt. She tries to stop her herself because the instructors have no patience for Vertin. She threatens to tell on Vertin before the Parade when she realizes Vertin is up to something. She could have easily reported Vertin before the Parade, but she doesn't. First time seeing this I read it "I've got my eye on you." The second time, I read it as "I don't want you to get hurt." She's trying to deter Vertin from acting out because the Parade Ceremony is huge and Vertin's already spent time in the guardhouse. The instructors are pulling out all stops.

When Sonetto was ordered to fight her friends she was confused and froze up. When the kids were locked in the guardhouse, she tried to bring them food but was turned away. She tries to show kindness while working within the Foundation's parameters but doesn't understand that won't be enough. There is a very loving person and curious person underneath the Foundation's indoctrination. I think Vertin saw glimpses of that in Sonetto but didn't understand why Sonetto couldn't act on them like she did.

Here we have two people who care about each other but can't overcome the differences between each other to make it work.

Although, it makes you wonder, why Sonetto? It could have been any other student with a sense of curiosity.

But its always Sonetto.

And what the hell happened between in the time Vertin became the Timekeeper to make Sonetto's attitude do a 180? Is it because she had more freedom to be herself after becoming an investigator? Did she try to get closer to Vertin after the break away event because she was worried about her? How much contact did she have with Vertin after this because Vertin is treated differently after becoming the Timekeeper.

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #sonetto #vertin #character analysis

[hero-israel]

As a black person I actually find the logic of many Zionists to be audacious.

My people were sold and kidnapped. We were enslaved for hundreds of years. We had the most despicable things happen to us. I’m sure you may relate, we were put into breeding camps, they used our parts to make clothes and furniture, allegedly they ate us, they tortured us, etc.

There is more than enough proof I am indigenous to Africa hell I found and reconnected with the family one of my ancestors was taken from. I am very lucky.

At no point have I ever thought about going to West Africa and taking the land back, stealing property, imprisoning, and murdering people who’ve lived there for centuries and still live there today. Even though there’s a possibility that they’ve participated in the selling of at least one of my ancestors.

Just because I can trace my heritage there doesn’t suddenly mean I have a claim on the land. I have heard so many Zionist say they belong there more than Palestinians, that there claim on the land is stronger. Maybe it’s not all of them but it is enough to be concerning.

Also bring up Liberia if you want. We didn’t ask for that.

This is a fair critique and it brings up one of the most important aspects of Zionism, and of all Jewish life in the modern era and from now on: that Zionism was always morally RIGHT, but it did not have to be morally NECESSARY.

For decades there was a raging, controversial, legitimately two-sided intracommunity debate over Zionism, like nothing you see among Jews today, memorably portrayed in Chaim Potok's novel "The Chosen" (and subsequent film version). The Reform Jewish Movement, our largest denomination, was governed by an explicitly anti-Zionist platform for over 50 years..... until they changed their minds in 1937. The Jewish people always trace their heritage to Eretz Yisrael, always could claim a rightful place there - but things should never have been allowed to get bad enough, fast enough, that in the truest sense their only choice was to create a state of Israel or die.

As early as 1920, Hitler said his goal was total extermination of the Jews. Nobody cared. America sealed its gates to Jewish immigrants in 1924. Germany began visibly prepping for genocide around 1935, again nobody cared. At Evian 1938 - "the great betrayal" - pretty much every powerful state in the world acknowledged that the Jews were about to be wiped out, and knowing that, refused to allow refugees to enter (except for the Dominican Republic, the mensches). England bowed to Arab terrorism and sealed off immigration to Mandate Palestine - which was a violation of international law under the League of Nations but, again, nobody cared. Nobody, not one single country, fought to protect the Jews or to help them escape. The Allies couldn't be bothered to bomb the tracks into Auschwitz, but they would heroically sink refugee ships. After the war, 250,000 Jews lingered miserably in displaced persons camps for YEARS, with not one single country being willing to admit them, and in nearly all cases there being nothing to return to anyway. There were still Jews kept in Dachau, guarded by Germans, until 1951.

From a 1945 report to Truman: "Many Jewish displaced persons … are living under guard behind barbed-wire fences … including some of the most notorious concentration camps … had no clothing other than their concentration camp garb…. Most of them have been separated three, four or five years and they cannot understand why the liberators should not have undertaken immediately the organized effort to re-unite family groups…. Many of the buildings … are clearly unfit for winter…. [Author contrasted these conditions with the relative normal life led by the nearby German populations and wondered at the contrast] ...We appear to be treating the Jews as the Nazis treated them except that we do not exterminate them. They are in concentration camps in large numbers under our military guard instead of S.S. troops. One is led to wonder whether the German people, seeing this, are not supposing that we are following or at least condoning Nazi policy...."

Those who attempted to return to their former communities were routinely murdered (seen at the end of "Maus"). There was a massacre of Holocaust survivors in Kiev, Ukraine in September 1945, another in Kielce, Poland in July 1946.

The Jews saw Palestine as their only hope, because it was. And when they saw their enemies there were led by actual red-handed Nazi war criminals, and heard that the stakes were once again their total genocide? Well, that's when you fight.... damn hard... to build the state and the military that will, FOR ONCE, protect you.

You talk about "At no point in my life have I considered claiming a part of Africa and fighting the people who I find there". Well - what if it was extremely obviously that or death?

A popular saying among Jews: "Israel was not created because there was a Holocaust. The Holocaust was created because there was no Israel." It's true - but it should not have been necessary to have an Israel to prevent the Holocaust. The rest of the world should have done that, and they didn't so much fail in preventing it as much as they succeeded in enabling it. You are correct to say that African-Americans did not ask for Liberia. The concept was made up by white people to try to get blacks out of America (though it gained popularity with black people after "milestones" of new cruelty such as the passage of the Fugitive Slave Act, and I believe Marcus Garvey is well-liked to this day). Well, Jews did not ask to have no government in the world grant us equality or defend us from genocide. We did not ask to have no choice. And we do not ask for our response to the latest attempted genocide to be condemned by the same nations that enabled the last several.

Today about 90% of Jews are Zionists. Not just out of the everlasting moral principle, but because of the life-or-death reality that when we needed ANY OTHER OPTION TO WORK, NOTHING DID. And since then, there has been even clearer demonstration of the tenuousness of Jewish survival and the depths of inhuman hatred we face from our enemies, as the 3,000-year-old Mizrahi Jewish civilization was successfully uprooted and purged from dozens of countries (which had already been oppressing and massacring them long before Zionism) as collective racial revenge against Israel. The mere fact that that was logistically possible - that it could be done, quickly and repeatedly - speaks worlds about the normalized culture of eliminationism surrounding us. What do you really think are the chances that African-Americans could be altogether physically purged from the USA or some of its states? Yemen, Syria, Afghanistan, and Eritrea finished their Jews within the last 5 years.

As "critics of Israel" have made it extremely clear that all Jews worldwide remain legitimate targets, that all "colonizers" (unquestionably including Americans like me) "deserve it" ("it" to include infanticide, rape, kidnapping, and mass murder), and as America visibly decays into algorithmic racist authoritarianism and climatic desperation.... you should not expect that 90% to change.

#zionism #israel #judaism #palestine #liberia #jumblr

[super-who-locked-me-in-here]

So I saw these gifs from Dolce, and it made me realize that Hannibal was still wearing his wedding ring from his "marriage" with Bedelia while he's killing Will and I had a flurry of thoughts about the implications of their rings in season 3.

Hannibal could've taken it off right after he and Bedelia said their goodbyes, but that would've ruined the façade when he went out. And he didn't really have a way of knowing Will was going to meet him in the art gallery. He could've assumed that after his altercation with Jack, Will would not be far behind, but he didn't know when specifically it would be, so the idea of him taking it off before Will gets to the art gallery isn't really plausible.

But he had that heartfelt (in their own way) conversation with Will in the gallery, picked him up out of the street after he was shot, tended to his wounds, drugged him, probably bathed him or at the very least redressed him, made him soup, and fed him with the intention of it being Will's last meal, where Hannibal would finally express the true extent of his love for him by killing and cannibalizing him, and he wore his wedding ring that ties him to Bedelia through all of it.

How fucked up is that, that even in that moment where (once more through violence) Hannibal is finally allowing Will (as drugged as he is) to see all of his cards, he still can't be bothered to entirely remove his person suit even when they're the only two people in the room?

Do you think that's part of why Will is so bitchy to Bedelia? Because he's not completely unaware while Hannibal is doing all of this to him, and with that shred of awareness, maybe he remembered that detail just like he remembered things after his encephalitis was treated. And he's jealous. He's angry, at himself for ruining what could've been if he hadn't lied all those years ago, and at Bedelia, for stealing the position next to Hannibal, the love and time and companionship she got to share with Hannibal that should've belonged to Will. He's angry that even in that moment where he was barely lucid, it was his, it was theirs, and other people (Bedelia, Jack, Mason, Alana) still couldn't keep their mark off that moment.

Do you think that's part of why Will is wearing his wedding ring at the cliffside? Will's intentions are all jumbled at this point. With him telling Bedelia he doesn't intend for Hannibal to be caught a second time, and him telling Jack that Dr. Lecter is just bait for the Dragon, and when Hannibal asks Will if he intends to watch the Dragon kill him, Will's response is "I intend to watch him change you" it seems pretty clear that Will intends for Francis and Hannibal to murder each other and for him to walk away and go back to his (boring, fake, necessary) picket-fence life with his wife and child and all their dogs. But then you throw in the wrench of "Is Hannibal in love with me?" and "I'd pack my bags if I were you, Bedelia. Meat's back on the menu" and "Name the bait on your hook after someone you cherished" versus "Hannibal would be the best bait."

I don't think Will truly made his decision about what he wanted to happen, or what he thought should happen, until he was standing on the bluff that afternoon before the fight with Francis. I think he wore the ring up until that point because he was unsure if he'd be going back to Molly or not, but also, much like Hannibal in the art gallery, marital status at that point was irrelevant; it was about the façade. And I think Will kept it on that day, and into the evening and during the fight with the Dragon because he was still hurt and jealous and angry and vindictive, and he wanted Hannibal to be unsure.

He remembered that moment, that near death of his at Hannibal's hands, that couldn't be wholly, intimately theirs because of that band of metal on Hannibal's finger, and now he finds himself on another precipice of life and death, except it's Hannibal's mortality at risk, with Will sending him to a sacrificial altar, and Will wants him to worry, that Will is going to deny them both their greatest fantasies, death at each other's own hands, not by proxy or fate or accident, because maybe, just maybe, he's going to go back to Molly.

I think in both cases, the rings signify power over the other, but also the endless pursuit of the one they love while being terrified to reach out and thusly resigning themselves to a safety net, a loving wife, a façade.

#hannibal analysis #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #bedelia du maurier #molly graham #dolce #twotl #hannibal season 3

[my-writings-and-musings]

YOU DON'T KNOW HOW LONGG I WAS WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO WRITE BB X READER X BD AND I GIVE YOU MY UTMOST THANKS FOR IT 😭😭

It was so fun to read! The darling being a flustered mess was sooo adorable to read! YOUR WRITING OS SO NICEEE I LOVE ITT :DDD

Flustered breakdown will now be living rent free in my mind for some time

NO PROBLEM I'VE BEEN CRAVING IT TOO AND SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO BE THE CHANGE YOU WANT TO SEE IN THE WORLD BECAUSE WE NEED MORE OF THESE DORKS

Asdfghjkl thank you so much though, I had a blast writing that fic and I'm so happy people enjoyed it! I hope you're ready for Breakdown to be living there for a while, because you inspired me to write some more...

Please enjoy Breakdown being sleepy and bashful along with some cows.

Few people would have ever believed you without seeing it for themselves, but you knew the truth from increasingly ample experience; Cybertronians were utterly adorable when they slept, cuter than any human could ever hope to be, anyway. Even the surliest bots in existence turned to snoring kittens when in a much needed power down. 

You freely expressed how much you appreciated said cuteness to the two most important mechs in your life, and while Bumblebee didn't mind being referred to as such (if anything he seemed to brighten every time you said as much), Breakdown made quite a point of denying that he could ever be referred to as anything short of "badass". He insisted that he didn't take "cat naps" as you'd teasingly observed, but that he instead powered down only when necessary, and that he looked anything but cute while doing so. His determination for you to see him as cool and smooth went in direct contrast to reality, where he was an adorable nerd who grew easily flustered in your presence and napped often where he thought you wouldn't notice, but on most days you were happy to pretend for his sake. 

Today, however, you had stumbled upon something far too sweet to ignore. After coming home early from errands you'd been too tired to finish, you'd expected Bumblebee to be gone as he was conducting a training exercise, but the unexplained lack of Breakdown had compelled you to search your homestead when he didn't answer his comm. You hadn't needed to search far, as the sizable mech wasn't hard to spot in your cow field even at a distance, but it had taken a moment for you to believe your eyes. 

Beneath the broad branches of an apple tree, Breakdown was snoozing in the picture of absolute contentment, his servos folded behind his helm to keep it steady against the trunk at his back and his long frame stretched out in the shady bed of grass. That alone would have been precious enough, but his company of a half dozen dairy cows snuggling against him to share in the nap almost made your heart implode. Considering his chosen task for the day had been securing the weak posts of their fence, you could surmise that he'd taken a break beneath the tree afterwards only to drift off surrounded by his newfound friends. 

Quietly opening the gate and approaching the group, you were quickly noticed by the ever-alert herd, who lifted their heads as soon as the lock clicked shut behind you. Eager to see you as always, the heffers abandoned their nap and Cybertronian sized heat source to happily trot to you in greeting, mooing out their delight but thankfully not waking Breakdown in the process. You smiled as you were surrounded by happy cows, and when broad snouts started sniffing for treats you rewarded them with pats and a playful quip. "Hey girls, sorry to say he's spoken for." 

Conversational moos told you there were no hard feelings, and the group remained clustered around you as you entered the shade where Breakdown was still fast asleep, your smile softening as you felt the gentle stirring of his peaceful ventilations. You might have been content to let him finish out his power down and pretend you hadn't seen a thing, but one of your herd had other plans. The smallest cow let out an insistent moo at your side, one which quickly proved too much for the big mech to sleep through. Snapping open his optics with a start and instinctively ready for a fight, Breakdown sat up and looked around in a hurry. He looked far more mortified by the sight of you than he would have for an army of enemy bots.

"You having a good nap there, big guy?" you asked playfully, petting the head of a cow as she bumped against you for affection. For a solid few seconds the mech was silent and frozen before you.

"Don't know what you're talking about." he said suddenly, finding his voice in a rush and clearing his vents to keep it from cracking. Leaning back against the trunk and resuming a relaxed posture, he did everything not to appear concerned, fooling only himself as he tried to play the cool guy. "Just resting my optics after a long day…"

"I can see that." you replied playfully, smiling as a few cows left your side to return to his. Breakdown frowned to the point of pouting as the animals did little to help his case, setting themselves down on the grass at his sides to once more snuggle against the warmth of his frame. As displeased as he looked about the gathering, the mech didn't try anything to disperse the herd, and you chuckled as an especially affectionate cow laid her head on his pede. "Looks like you picked up a few admirers while fixing that fence."

"Yeah, uh… don't really know why they won't leave me alone." he said awkwardly, keenly aware the gathering of sleepy bovines was not helping his image. Still, he didn't dare move in any way that would disturb them, something you noticed even as he tried to puff up and revert to his chill persona, voice deepening as he smirked and gestured to the fence. "But you don't have to worry about any more escapees, I got that section of fence nice and secure."

Following his point to the poles it would have taken you an entire day to mount, you recalled the aforementioned escape that had sent you, Breakdown and Bumblebee halfway across the county on a cow wrangling escapade. Genuinely relieved that you no longer had to worry about a repeat incident, you moved a little closer to his upper body and put an appreciative hand on his arm before returning your gaze to his face. "Thanks, Breakdown. I really appreciate that." you said with genuine appreciation, cutting right through his charade and sending a blush blooming across his cheeks.

Coughing again, Breakdown pretended to be occupied brushing a few stray leaves off his broad shoulders, keeping his helm turned away while he willed his visible bashfulness to fade. "What are you doing back so early, anyway? I thought you'd be running errands all day."

You shrugged and watched the remaining cows cluster about the mech for warmth, their wide eyes closing peacefully as they tucked their legs beneath their broad bodies. "I'm pretty beat, I figured I'll take care of the rest of it tomorrow." you explained just as a yawn rose up from your chest, compelling you to stretch your arms above your head. It had been a long few days on the homestead, and even if the day was young you were absolutely beat, the residual sleep debt weighing down your body after so much excitement. Being so close to a big comfy bot in the shade didn't help, and in your exhaustion the solution seemed obvious, enough so that you weren't hesitant at all as you spoke your mind. Another yawn slurred your words as you stepped over a snoozing cow. "Speaking of which, these girls seem like they've got the right idea. Mind if I join them?"

The question took a moment to register, and when it did Breakdown briefly appeared to short circuit, expression going blank before it shifted to bashful uncertainty.

"Uhhhhhh…" he said with a stare, one you returned with a good natured smile to make it clear your request was sincere. Breakdown gulped, something he did often when your lingering touches or flirts proved too much for him in the moment, then regained enough composure to speak in a murmur. "Sure."

Taking the lead, you climbed atop his chassis and stretched out over the broad, flat expanse of his chest where he was warmest, earning a tiny gasp of surprise but feeling no kind of resistance to your presence. The spark beneath his armor went from humming to singing at your proximity, and as you got comfortable a glance at his face revealed an expression of dumbfounded but delighted overwhelm. Laying down and getting quite comfortable in the dappled light, you folded your arms to act as a pillow, able to feel the tug of sleep after only moments of respite. The mech had a wonderful habit of helping you relax even if the inverse didn't apply to him.

"Bee should be back in a few hours, he'll wake us up when he gets here." you said sleepily, loving how he melted beneath you and seemed to go from hulking speed machine to a staticky mess of want every time you overwhelmed him. Still, your presence was far from unwanted even if you cut right through his facade, as was evidenced by his frame leaning into every bit of your touch. Bright yellow optics looked over you with barely hidden affection in their depths before you closed your own eyes. "See you then, Breakdown."

Pretending to drift off rather quickly, you didn't move when a tender servo brushed over your forehead before settling over your hand, his broad digits forming a tent over your fingers as he whispered just loudly enough to be heard.

"See you then, Y/N…"

#transformers #maccadam #earthspark #transformers earthspark #tf earthspark #transformers: earthspark #tf #tfes #tfe #human reader #self insert #homestead reader #bb x reader x bd #bumblebee #breakdown #breakbee #bumblebee x reader #breakdown x reader #tf imagines #fluff #polyamory

[philosophicalconservatism]

Response To Post On Gender Ideology and Free Speech.

lily-on-the-fence

"You state that trans acceptance is an extreme point of view because it requires you to believe certain things about people or else you disrespect them. I'd argue it's more extreme to prevent someone from accessing healthcare because you personally don't agree that it's necessary, despite all the relevant scientific fields disagreeing with you."

Philosophicalconservatism

I am more interested in what the science says and what it doesn't say than I am in what opinions are popular amongst those who practice it.

Dr Jack Drescher one of the scientists responsible for the official decision by the DSM to no longer classify Gender Dysphoria as a disorder (and to rename it) stated outright that this call was more about a shift in cultural values than any groundbreaking new scientific insight.

"All psychiatric diagnoses occur within a cultural context. We know there is a whole community of people out there who are not seeking medical attention [to realign their thinking with their gender of birth ] and live between the two binary categories. We wanted to send the message that the therapist's job isn't to pathologize."

So the game is that the culture appeals to the science, while the scientists appeals to changes in the culture. It would be quite remarkable for science to go from still classifying Gender Dysphoria as a disorder in 2012 to having prescriptive knowledge about it within three or four years that is so absolutely certain it is unquestionable (the scandal with Jordan Peterson was just three years later in 2016 for example). And this is in psychology of all fields, a field with a notorious replicability and reproducibility problem; one of the softest of sciences.

Exactly how certain must we be in this discussion? There is a difference between identifying the latest credible scientific hypotheses, and having knowledge that is so certain that you are willing to irreversibly alter the life of a child over it. Knowledge of the latter type should be of the utmost certainty. But this is why advocates of Gender Ideology do proceed as though the use of hormones and surgery to "transition" individuals is science that is as firmly established as William Harvey's theory of the circulation of blood (It must not be questioned!). Yet almost any particular element of this treatment (much less the entire composite) is highly questionable. Human beings are still accumulating knowledge about the long term effects of consuming red meat, but we have the utmost confidence in our knowledge of the the long-term effects of the chemical and biochemical agents used in these treatments?

Higher risk of blood clots, heart attack, strokes, diabetes, and many other conditions have been connected to gender hormone replacement therapy. This is according to mainstream sources; I strongly encourage the readers to look it up. Can a minor child (whose brain is not even fully developed) make a decision with those kinds of ramifications? To be clear, Conservatives fully support the right of every adult to seek out such treatments, and this Conservative would certainly fight against any attempt to curtail that right. But that right has been in place for decades. Today we are talking about something quite different. We are talking about the violation of children. For children are violated anytime the adults around them attempt to make the kind of decisions for them which they can only make themselves as adults.

#transgender #gender ideology #Conservative

[androgynouspenguinexpert]

babe wake up androgynouspenguinexpert posted another character analysis from the train during her finals week because she's banned herself from drawing anything new

its time to tackle vega, because he's cool.

all of the characters carry a unique narrative theme or motif - the importance of self worth for gavin, impostor syndrome for asher, consent and control for marcus, etc. vega's theme is one of, if not my favourite: nature vs nurture, learned behaviour, and the morality of necessary evil.

vega doesn't start out as a moustache-twirling villain, but he's certainly hurting people for selfish reasons. however - the line between right and wrong starts to blur even across vega's first few appearances. as he points out himself later, vega has essentially created a closed loop of suffering to feed from. yeah, he got someone roofied and kidnapped, which is bad, but he's limited his victims to two people. ivan and baby. there's even a case to be made about baby's safety - ivan is volatile and incredibly dangerous (breaking either glass or ceramic with his bare hands???), but we never see him physically harm baby other than restraining them.

vega's age (pin this) has granted him an incredible level of experience and therefore intellect. he's probably the smartest piece on the board right now, save maybe for brachium (but he's sort of on a board of his own anyway). vega knows exactly what he is. he feeds on suffering and agony, and there's nothing that can change that. equipped with this knowledge, vega has managed to streamline the production of agony without really getting his hands dirty, and basically guaranteed the survival of both people involved.

then in comes caelum. he accidentally discovers vega's operation, and immediately runs to freelancer for help. vega proceeds to kick the shit out of caelum for snitching, and almost kills him. again, this is bad. i'm definitely not defending vega's actions here - but think of it from his point of view: he's set up a way of passively producing agony and is minding his own business. a daemon who is 24 (at time of writing) stumbles across this, and immediately threatens to shut it down as well as get him arrested. that's like a toddler walking in on a meth lab and running to the cops. vega probably could drop everything and relocate to avoid the department, but that would take a lot more time and effort than just soccer kicking the toddler over a fence. so he tries, and fails, because gavin steps in. gavin being able to overpower vega - despite being potentially hundreds of thousands of years younger - speaks to the inefficiency of vega's agony system, and he's smart enough to be well aware of that. agony (in a relatively nice part of california, anyway) isn't really a renewable resource like lust or joy are. harming someone, whether physically or otherwise, enough to fuel vega for any significant amount of time would either permanently damage or kill that person. that's not sustainable.

and then vega gets arrested. the human government asks a being probably older than civilisation to pinkie promise he'll stay in a little concrete box for a while. vega explains later that he doesn't believe in unnecessary violence - unless he decides that it is necessary, i guess - so he probably went along with his arrest fairly peacefully. there's another analysis in here somewhere about where (or from whom...?) the department learned its containment methods, considering they haven't really figured out aria yet.

but anyway - vega gets tossed into maximum security. and even from behind the ward, he's finding subtle (and less subtle) ways to stir the pot, especially with his new department-assigned therapist (another quick aside that's too good for the tags; did anyone else find it super fucking funny that vega's first real friend on elegy is his therapist?). i think vega feels neutral about elegy, leaning ever so slightly towards liking it, but he knows what he is. a demon. vega never was, and never will be, human. that's why he never audibly speaks (which is a fantastic detail) - he's rejecting the most basic form of modern human communication. language. yes, he knows english, but he's probably never spoken a single word out loud. vega's fear of daemons growing away from their roots is also why he starts testing for cracks in the warden's façade - he's worried that daemons are starting to assimilate a little too much. they're losing their identity as a separate species, and losing sight of the sacrifices made during the cacophony. and he's right - the cacophony has entirely faded into myth. his suffering and loss has now been turned into a fable; a cautionary tale about dealing with forces beyond our control.

next is the escape, which is both interesting and sick as hell. vega proves that he's not a fan of violence for the sake of violence by mincing some solitaires, tossing an unconscious warden over his shoulder, and escaping the detention facility. this is vega's first real selfless action. he definitely could have left the warden to the solitaires, but chooses to save them because of their compassion towards him. this shows a little of vega's internal struggle - he's never been around unconditional like, let alone love, because he doesn't need to. he needs to be unlikeable. manipulative. cutthroat. these are the things that keep him safe, but more importantly fed. we know from his imperium counterpart (who will eventually be getting a post of his own) that vega wants to be wanted. as much as he denies it and dodges the topic when it's brought up, vega is not intrigued by the warden because he can toy with them. he's drawn to them because they're willing to understand. they're hesitant, but for now they're giving vega the benefit of the doubt. he's never been given that before.

he also starts to wear down the warden's already fragile sense of morality with the kidnapped department officer. although his methods are very questionable, vega is correct again when he explains that he doesn't really have a choice. he won't hurt the guard, and the guard can't hurt him or the warden, but will keep spewing out hate that vega can feed on for the forseeable future. he's killing two birds with one stone as well - the warden is an inchoate. it's far easier for vega to track down (read: kidnap) one racist than to juggle the emotional intake of two people.

i don't think vega is just trying to break the warden out of their department mould for the sake of shenanigans, nor does he want to return to the glory days - vega knows that humanity and daemonkind are now inseperable after the imprisonment of the sovereigns.

he just doesn't want daemons - genuinely good people trying to make the best of a not fantastic situation - to lose sight of what they are. what they used to be. not anarchists, or pawns for the department. starchildren.

forgive me. i tend to wax poetic.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted vega #MAN i love vega he's so cool no matter what he's in #and the warden just waltzes into his cell with a clipboard and an i can fix him complex strong enough to drag satan himself up from hell #the slow swap from warden to darling is going to take me out #idk man vega can blow up armoured vehicles with his mind but also he's such an old fashioned romantic methinks #alexa play put you through me by arrows in action #also i might possibly maybe have playlists for most of these bastards #maybe ill share em someday

[turnupswritessometimes]

Butterflies - Ch5 - Lies of P/Alice Madness Returns

Relationship: P/Alice Liddell

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53898544/chapters/137944243

Next | Previous | First

Summary: “But why go looking for other realities, when there’s no guarantee you’ll pass through to them?” “Because it’s an experiment, and I jolly well won’t learn anything more about all this unless I try,” Alice replied.

Having figured out how to slip in and out of Wonderland entirely, Alice Liddell sets off on a journey to find more realities around her own. When she follows a blue butterfly to Hotel Krat, she meets P. The more time they spend together, the more they feel as though there’s someone else out there, just like them.

Chapter Five: Which Explores the Difficulties of Dancing

Alice was, for once, very glad that she hadn't seen hide nor hair of the Cheshire Cat. She could only imagine his riddles and teasing about the whole situation. She could waste her breath and tell him that she was only interested in saving Krat – the proof of which was her venture onto Rosa Isabelle Street that afternoon – and Cat would still insist she was losing her head over a boy.

The worst part was, that wasn’t incorrect. She lay on the luxurious bed of her hotel room, in a borrowed nightgown, and found she could only think about P. It wasn’t that he was a puppet; that seemed by the by, now. It was his hesitant smiles, like he was still learning how to do them. It was his bright blue eyes, and the way they saw everything. (The way they looked at her, as though she was something special.) It was his earnestness and openness, his insistence that his father gave him a weapon for an arm because he loved him.

P was created to fight. But he was so much more than that.

Alice stared at the shadows of tree branches on her ceiling, and wondered if she was the opposite.

She still didn’t hugely know what she was doing in Krat. P said he was bound for the Grand Exhibition next; the alchemists called it their base. They had been experimenting with Ergo, he explained, and might know more about what caused the Frenzy and the petrification disease.

“They might know more about—” And then he had stopped short, and hadn’t continued. He’d his behind his dark hair.

There was something he wasn’t telling her. That was nothing new, for Alice, but she hoped he would be able to soon. She’d had enough of secrets – that would make Cat laugh, if he was here. Didn’t Alice have so many secrets of her own? Secrets that would change the way P looked at her, she was certain. How would he look at her, if he knew she was mad?

For now, she was helping P to prepare for his attack on the Grand Exhibition – because there would be enemies there. That’s what she would tell Cat, though he would smirk wider and make even more sarcastic comments. She rolled over, pulling the covers more tightly to her chest. If she was honest, she knew the other reason she was staying in Krat. She also knew that it was pure foolishness.

It was foolishness that her heart had beat so wildly when P stood so close to her. She was not a silly young girl, driven to silliness whenever she was close to a young man. Alice half-wished she was – but she was too jaded for that. She’d never had a problem with snubbing boys before – she didn’t have a problem snubbing Venigni.

It was just P. She couldn’t’ stop thinking about how it felt to have his hands on her waist, on her wrist, butterfly-light, as he showed her the right posture for fencing. Couldn’t stop thinking about how he had walked through the steps, just behind her, his face so close to hers. So close, she could see his freckles; see the gentle curve of his eyelashes. He had been so there and kind, and gentle, and that was what was different about him. No one had been gentle with her like that, before.

None of that touch had been necessary; he might not have even realised what he was implying by being so close.

But Alice wasn’t going to tell him that.

*

It was at Lady Antonia’s request.

Alice and P had returned from scouring the streets for pipes, or saws or throwing cells that would be handy on his charge on the alchemist’s headquarters. Anything that he could use as a weapon. They returned covered in oil. P’s arm had needed mending, and Alice had a bad cut on her arm which needed seeing to. It was Sophia – whatever Sophia was – who helped her bandage it.  Her hands were capable and practised, as though she’d done this several times before.

When Alice ventured back downstairs to find P talking with Polendina at the desk. Polendina nodded his welcome at her, and she couldn’t help but notice how jerky his movements were compared to P. P, who offered his arm to her, like a gentleman. She suspected, from Gemini’s faint chirp, that he’d told him to do that.

Part of her wished he wouldn’t; it made her feel like a lady, and she most certainly was not. But a much larger part of her wanted to believe that fairy story. To be the Alice that she could have been, if her family had survived. So she brushed her hair behind her ear, and put her hand on his elbow. Let him lead her into the rooms where Antonia sat, and she thought that was only polite: that they keep the lady company in the evening, especially as she was so sick.

They listened to her reminisce about the heyday of the hotel, when it was bustling with guests, despite the rumours it was haunted. About the wonderful dinners and lavish parties held there, before the frenzy and the petrification disease.

“Polendina would play the piano and this room would be full to bursting with dancers,” she said, her eyes shining and distant. “And I’ll have you know, I had my fair share of partners, back in my day.”

P nodded, and Alice smiled to think about it. They were the kind of parties her parents threw; the kind that Lizzie got to go to, but not her. She’d been too little. She’d only ever heard stories about such parties.

“What I wouldn’t give to see the room alive like that once more,” Antonia leant back in her chair, and sighed. She looked to the pair of them, and there was a glint in her eye. “You know, you two make a charming couple. I don’t suppose you would humour an old lady, and recreate the past for me?”

  P nodded again, almost without thinking. Not because of any obedience, Alice realised, but because he wanted to; he was clearly devoted to Lady Antonia, and wanted to make her happy. It was a simple request, after all. Most other girls Alice’s age in London would be able to oblige.

But Alice could not.

Still, admitting that she could not was the more mortifying choice. Instead, she nodded, and murmured that she would fetch Polendina to man the piano. His response was “Of course, I would be delighted,” and she wondered if he could even say no. Either way, he moved much too eagerly for her liking.

She stepped to where the desk lifted up to delay him, if only for a moment.

“There’s just one problem,” she hissed. “I have no clue how to dance.”

“That is simply fixed.” At least Polendina’s voice came out quieter. “Just follow your partner’s lead, Miss Liddell.”

Not the most comforting advice. She couldn’t hold him any longer without it being suspicious. Alice stepped aside, and let Polendina head to the piano. She glanced back, to see Sophia at the foot of the stairs. Sophia nodded, and smiled in an encouraging, albeit unhelpful, way.

So, she trailed back though, as Antonia was turning her wheelchair around, and Polendina was taking a seat at the pianoforte, and P stood, waiting for her. At least he looked as adrift as she felt; stiff, and formal. She stopped, a few paces away from him.

“Can you dance?” she whispered, looking up at him.

“I think I know,” P replied. It was still better than her, so she nodded, as though she thought she could too. As though they were not about to make fools of themselves. She heard Gemini whisper from P’s belt, and he held out his hand again. And again, she took it. Had to move a step closer, and had to take a breath before she let her hand rest on his shoulder. It felt solid; like a rock in a storm.

His own hand hesitated before he took her waist. His legion arm; his weapon. She could feel the cold of the steel through her dress. Aside from that arm, the rest of him was warm.

Polendina began to play.

P started dancing. He stepped as lightly as he did whilst he was fencing. That was good, Alice realised, it wasn’t so different from fencing. She could follow his steps, and pretend that there were still doing that. The only difference now was allowing him to take some of her weight; to tug her, when she was moving too slowly, like a buoy in the sea.

How terribly unladylike, she thought, to compare dancing to fighting.

But she felt distinctly unladylike, and distinctly out of place. Not because she was out of her own reality, but because she did not belong in a hotel like this. Did not belong at a party, imagined or otherwise, and shouldn’t be dancing. Did not belong opposite this boy.

His blue eyes were soft, and he had the impressive ability to be able to dance without glancing at his feet once. His hair drifted softly with the movement as they turned. This close, she could see the freckles on his nose and cheeks. She thought she could see constellations in them, if she stared long enough.

The thought made her stumble. Just slightly, but just enough to make her aware of her own shortcomings. Her heart thudded, and she felt electrified with nerves.

The piano music continued; lilting and beautiful; the kind of thing Lizzie would play on a Spring morning. Thinking of Lizzie made it easier; Lizzie would know what to do now.

“How do you know this?” she whispered. They were making a path across the room, under Antonia’s nostalgic gaze, and were hopefully too far away to be heard properly.

P paused. A strand of hair fell in front of his face, and he didn’t have a free hand to brush it back. “The same way I know fencing.”

It was something Geppetto had given him. Like fighting. What else did he know – innately?

“You’re a good dancer,” P murmured. He lifted his hand to spin her. She managed to not look too much of a fool, her skirts flaring round her as she turned. When she returned, she clutched his shoulder more tightly.

“Liar,” she said.

And he looked cowed, at least. “I try to only tell kind lies.”

Kindness made her feel itchy. Her cheeks felt hot again. P always looked at her in that strange way when she blushed. As though he was surprised and intrigued, which only made her feel more flustered.

"You don’t have to be kind to me,” she said, much too aware of her boots clacking on the tiles.

At least P’s shoes were loud too. He tilted his head to one side, and that strand of hair moved with him. “Why not?”

Because kindness and Alice were strangers. Because most people who seemed kind wanted to use her. Because she didn’t know what to do with kindness. She didn’t know what to do with this boy. She didn’t know what she was doing at all, dancing and pretending that she was any kind of respectable girl.

How could she forget who she was?

Girls from asylums did not dance with kind boys.

Girls like Alice did not dance with boys like P.

They had stopped. The blood roared in her ears too loudly to hear if the music had also stopped. She stood in front of P, a hand on his shoulder, and a hand curved into his, and felt a rush of embarrassment. This was ridiculous, she was ridiculous, she wasn’t Cinderella.

She was a fool.

Alice stepped back. She saw P’s eyes widen in surprise. But he didn’t stop her. Not even when she turned and ran from the room. She ran all the way up the stairs, not noticing if Sophia was there or not. She could only focus on finding the door to her room tugging it open, and slamming it behind her. She pressed her weight against it, her cheek to the wood, listening for any sounds of a pursuit.

There was the faint murmur of voices, but nothing else.

She sunk to the floor, and tried to breathe deeply. If she wasn’t careful, she’d slide back into Wonderland. She could, and then she wouldn’t be in Krat anymore. She could leave.

But she couldn’t bring herself to.

*

P listened to the footsteps disappearing up the stairs. Listened to Antonia tutting and murmuring, "What a pity." Listened to his springs ticking and turning.

He stepped forward, to follow. There was the distant slam of a door.

Gemini chirped when he reached the threshold of the doorway. "You might want to give her some space, pal."

So, P stopped again, like that was an order. He knew that he didn't want to stay there, after that. He made his way to the foot of the stairs, and lowered himself onto the bottom ones. There was silence from upstairs. He heard Lady Antonia talking to Polendina, reminiscing about the old days, again.

He clenched and unclenched the fingers of his legion arm. Alice had looked – scared. Her green eyes had been wide and her grip had tightened on him, just before she let go. She'd been scared because he asked why he shouldn't be kind to her.

And then she’d ran.

"What happened?" he asked Gemini. It was the same thing Gemini often asked him, but that was always about monsters.

"Beat me. I don't think anyone knows what goes on inside a girl's mind."

P narrowed his eyes at him, but Gemini only chirped in response. He clenched and unclenched his fist, as he thought. It had been going well, before that. He'd understood the music and how to move; as easily as he understood wielding a sword. He had enjoyed moving to it with Alice, and how it felt to hold her – as much as he could, when he was a puppet. She'd looked beautiful, with the yellow light casting a halo on her hair and her eyes shining. His springs had felt like they'd kicked into double time, like a butterfly rapidly fluttering its wings.

"The best way to find that out is to ask her."

It was Sophia. She leant over P's shoulder. A strand of her blue hair had fallen from its bun, and swung forward.

"I don't think she wants to talk to me," he said. It was just like that first evening: he’d upset her, even if he didn’t know how, or why.

Sophia raised her eyebrows, though she was smiling softly. "I think you should try, clever one. You might be surprised at the outcome."

She even offered a hand to help him up. He took it, but made sure to take his own weight; Sophia looked so fragile, he was sure he’d pull her over.  She brushed lint from the shoulders of his coat, and straightened the lapels, as if he was truly courting a girl. When he didn’t move, she raised her eyebrows again, “Go on.”

So P did. He dimmed Gemini, and made his way through the hallways of the hotel, towards Alice’s room. Even then, he paused outside the door, listening. He didn’t hear anything at all. He supposed that was better than hearing sobbing.

He knocked. And waited. There was no response.

P’s springs felt coiled tighter. The hotel was supposed to be safe, but what if something had happened? Even worse, what if Alice had left? He opened the door on impulse, ready to fight – and found himself standing in a dark, empty room. It did feel haunted, when he was left staring at the silhouettes of furniture, and trying to find a human in-between them.

She wasn’t here.

But the window was ajar. A faint breeze fluttered the curtains.

P headed towards it, catching the handle to stop it blowing open completely.  He paused again, peering onto the windowsill. It was a wide stone windowsill, with an iron railing, with more than enough space for someone to sit. He saw a flutter of blue skirts in the wind.

He stepped out, onto the stone – and there she was. Alice sat against the corner of the iron railing, her knees to her chest, and her head buried on her knees. Her hair fell around her.

“Alice,” he said her name without thinking. He liked saying it, he realised.

It made her jump. She looked up, startled, and blinked. “P.”

He didn’t know what to do now, not even whether to sit or stand. He watched as Alice brushed her hair from her face, and wiped the heel of her hand over her cheeks.

“It’s rude to barge into someone’s room, you know,” she said, but she wasn’t scolding him. Her voice cracked a little, and she hugged her knees closer to her chest.

“I was worried,” P said. He slowly lowered himself, to sit on the other end of the balcony. The sun had set, painting the city in indigo and black. It was too cloudy a night to see any stars. “I thought I’d – hurt you.”

Alice sounded tired. “You didn’t hurt me.”

P waited, but she didn’t say anything else. He fiddled with Gemini’s lantern, watching her. His light cast a soft, amber glow over the two of them. Sophia had said to ask, but suddenly that seemed like very daunting. The silence stretched between them, and Alice still didn’t look at him. He thought she was trying very hard not to cry.

“Did I upset you?”

“It’s not you.” Alice sighed. She covered her face again, hiding in her dark hair. “You’re…perfect.”

He blinked, his springs jumping. “I was built to be perfect.”

She made a sound that could have been laugh, or a sob. He found himself shifting closer, on one knee, reaching out to take her shoulder, but it didn’t land.

“I’m not the girl that you treat me as,” she said. If her voice had cracked before, it broke entirely now. She took a long breath. “And if you knew the truth…”

She looked at him. Gemini’s light reflected in her eyes, casting spidery shadows over her cheeks. Strands of dark hair hung in front of her face. She looked sad, P thought, sad and scared, and that was terrible. He didn’t want that.

His hand hesitated, for a moment, before he leant closer, and brushed the stray hairs from her face. He tucked them behind her ear, and though her breath caught, Alice let him. She didn’t pull away. Her fingers grazed his wrist, but she didn’t take hold of his hand.

“Tell me,” he murmured.

Alice took a deep, shuddering breath. She closed her eyes, and he was sure he saw the glimmer of tears on her lashes. Yet, when she opened them, they were focused, and determined.

“I was in an asylum for ten years,” she said, and dropped his wrist. “I was considered quite mad.”

Perhaps she expected him to call her mad too; to be repulsed by her; to treat her differently. He didn’t; it was impossible to; unthinkable. She was still Alice. Still, he moved slowly, giving her the chance to pull away, if she wanted, and laced their fingers together.

“You know what an asylum is?”

P nodded. He knew. He didn’t think it mattered. Especially when she had accepted him, too.

“So, you see, I am not a lady of any kind,” Alice said. “Not anymore. I’m just – insane—”

“You’re Alice,” he said. He took her hand in both of his, all too aware of the cold metal of his legion arm. He cradled it, as if he was holding Spring. She didn’t flinch at his mechanics. She didn’t move at all. “You survive storms at sea to help save cities, and won against me in a fight—”

“We drew.”

“And you’re kind. You only agreed to dance for Lady Antonia, when you didn’t know how.”

Alice shook her head. P tightened his grip, hoping that he could make his expression display everything that he felt.

“You’re Alice,” he repeated.

Alice, who looked at him as though he was mad. “You’re impossible.”

But her mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile.

Before she sighed, again, and shifted closer, her other hand on top of his.

P didn’t need Gemini to tell him what to do, though he felt him buzz against his hip, excitedly. He untangled his hands, to put his arms around her shoulders, instead. Gently, giving space for her to slip away, if she wanted to.

Alice didn't. She fell against him, her forehead bumping against his shoulder, and her fists clutching his shirt.

For a moment, he froze. She was so close and so warm and he hadn't expected her to do that. But it was good; made him warm in response; gave him the confidence to hold her properly. He rested his cheek against her silky hair.

"This is mortifying," Alice said, into his jacket. "I'm not usually like this."

"I do not mind."

"I don't suppose you do." She sniffed, shifting so her cheek was against him instead. Her weight pressed fully against him in the twilight, and she seemed so light. He revelled in the feeling of her.

"It's just..." Alice took another shuddering breath. She might still have been crying, but P would not embarrass her further by looking. "The dancing made me think of Lizzie, and our life before, and how that's what I should be."

P didn't understand all of that. He didn't know who Lizzie was, or what 'before' truly meant. The words, he thought, were only half-meant for him. They were mostly Alice talking to herself. Asking about it might upset her even more. Still, he turned over what he did understand. He said, softly, "Then you wouldn't be you."

"I wouldn't be mad."

"Mad is what they call what they don't understand," P concluded. Alice made another sound, but didn't argue this time. He held her as tightly as he dared, his hands pressed against her back, and he could feel her breathing. Her skirts spread over his knees. P told her about the woman in the window. The woman who'd asked him to get her baby back, and he'd only been able to give her a puppet. The street sign had called her mad. It would be easy to call her that. But she was grieving and in despair and no one wanted to understand that.

Alice's breathing evened as he spoke. He could feel her breath against his cheek. Her hair smelt of roses.

"That was one of the first lies I told," he said. He tried to be very still, as though he had a bird on his hand he didn't want to disturb.

"What was the very first?"

"The hotel doesn't allow puppets. I told the door I was human."

He dared to look down at her, then. She watched him, the moonlight shining on her eyes. It made her lashes look very long and dark, and her skin very pale. She looked like a fairy, and his heart thudded as if he was in a fight. Alice’s hand shifted. Her fingertips grazed his cheek.

"I think you're more human than most people."

#alice madness reutnrs #lies of p #alice liddell #lies of p pinocchio #crossover #fanfiction #alice x p #alice x pinocchio #turnupswrites

[haleigh-sloth]

Hi! I was curious why you flipped toward tenko being born with his quirk? And why you’ve flip flopped before? Like what are the pros and cons for the AFO giving him a quirk theory? Thank you shigaraki expert!

Shigaraki expert a;kshg;kasng you're very kind lolol

OKAY SO

This theory I was always 50/50 on since I got into the manga.

Because:

It doesn't change a whole lot either way, AFO is still big bad and Tomura is still the one who needs saving--regardless of whichever option ended up being canon

However, after we got Touya's backstory and saw the panel of AFO in the hat and shit, everybody (myself included) jumped on the bandwagon that it's the same guy we saw dropping Tenko off at home at the beginning of his backstory (this is probably still the case but I'll get to that)--and then it led to believing he gave Tenko decay. Honestly, it's not a bad theory--it's super believable and makes sense. The parallels with the MC work, the devastation behind it works.

But there's a thematic issue with it.

The whole thing about Tomura is that he hates himself because:

He's been told he was only born to destroy

He's been told by multiple people that his quirk is proof of this

He's been told that because he was only born to destroy, he "obviously" killed his family on purpose

Now, there are clearly some issues with those statements. Tomura believes every single one of them. The entire reason he can't break free from AFO is because his hatred (for himself) keeps his willpower/agency/independence to take back his identity (an identity that he hates, just gonna keep reminding ppl of that) at an all time low.

Now I had a discussion the other night with some moots about this and this is when I officially flip flopped, and I intend to stay on this side of the fence until the end or until canon says otherwise.

The closer we get to the end, the more prevalent it is that Tomura has to be shown that he wasn't born to destroy, he didn't want his family to die, and his quirk isn't proof of those things---while having his quirk be naturally his. This is necessary in order to fight the "your quirk defines your purpose" allegations AFO and ReDestro and everyone else in the manga imposes. If the quirk wasn't his to begin with, it kinda starts picking away at the whole "your quirk doesn't define you" message, because it's like an easy way out of the guilt Tomura feels for his family dying.

Tomura has to really fight to reconcile that he did NOT want his family to die, which is going to be accompanied by a lot of pain and grief all over again, because it goes from being a reason to hate himself, BACK to being a major, devastating loss--which is what it always was, but he believed the lies that he wanted it all to happen. And realizing that is going to fuck him up, bad. (I'm so excited, I love when my favs have emotional breakdowns)

Having it to where AFO gave him decay would really only add devastation to the situation, but not anything thematically.

I do think there are good reasons for believing the theory that AFO gave him decay. Seriously. But my moots pointed out that it could be a red herring of sorts. And I'll be honest, if it ends up being one, it's a fucking fantastically done one.

I'm also on board with it because tbh, I've written on it before but Izuku and Tomura aren't super solid parallels or even foils. At times they are, in ways they definitely are, but their arcs are more about filling in gaps in each other's worlds than anything.

All that to say, I'm okay with letting go of the quirkless Tenko parallel. I don't think the idea came out of nowhere either. Tenko being quirkless isn't like, a bad theory at all. But I feel more strongly about him being born with decay than without.

#this thematic issue was a hold up for me last year before 350 came out #it's in a meta somewhere that i'll probably never see again because tumblr is awful #but like #hearing other people point it out kinda reminded me of how strong that take is #it's a thematic thing #anyway #i mean i'm fine either way? #i'm not worried about the handling of tomura's arc #i trust hori #anonymous #bnha asks #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko

[bestfriend491]

Okoye and reader. Sorta continued from fainting ones

Reader and okoye are on a romantic date night, when readers ex girlfriend comes into the picture. Okoye knows it's her because of the way reader reacts, and our beautiful general goes into total protection mode?

Reality Check (Lies of Omission Prt.3)

A VALENTINE'S WEEK SPECIAL

Okoye x Female Reader

Summary: Months since she found out about everything, it is Valentine's Day and you decide to go out on a nice date day. Unfortunately, bad company seems to interrupt your night. Read Part 1 and Part 2 before reading this. Or don't. I'm not the boss of you. 😌

Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Brief Mentions of Past Abuse,

“Love recognizes no barriers, it jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination, full of hope.”- Maya Angelou

You woke up after barely a few hours of sleep, getting up and ready to put the final touches on the present you had for Okoye. It was your first (technically second) Valentine's Day together and you were beyond excited to spoil your love. 

You had the whole day planned, where you would pamper and spoil her to the highest degree. And she didn’t have to do anything. Okoye was vaguely aware of your plans since you had told her not to plan anything at all, but she was nowhere near aware of the true detail that you had put into planning the perfect day. 

You had silently been planning the day since the new year started, getting the reservations needed and asking around for people’s help when necessary. Now, people were sick of you bothering them for things specifically for this day, but it was finally here, and you were excited to allow Okoye to take a break from constantly working and just have a nice relaxed day off. 

She had training in the early morning, so she was gone. It was the one non-negotiable when it came to her not working, so you let her have it. It gave you an extra hour to yourself for the final details. 

You were completely prepared to make a fool out of yourself today, and you planned to have Okoye join you in the foolishness. 

You got into your planned clothing, and got your equipment to leave your house. 

As you entered the palace grounds, you got Aneka’s help in setting your first event up. Okoye was at the training grounds, with a group of new Dora Milaje. 

Just as you had anticipated, her back was turned away from you. Aneka held a bouquet of flowers 5 times bigger than her head, while you handled the microphone and speaker that you were to use. 

Stopping in the middle of the outside field, you put your things down, and began to play your music. Even before you had increased the volume on it, Okoye had turned, recognising your favourite song from anywhere. She stood, smiling at you as the intro played away. 

Then, you started to hum, an indication that you were about to sing. Her eyes grew wide as the rest of the Dora Milaje, and a few other people from inside came out to see what the noise was about. You grew a bit more nervous seeing the turnout, but seeing as the elders were yet to arrive, you had no reason to remain respectable. 

“I just wanted to dedicate this song to my one love.” you said, in a deep voice. 

It was right before you belted out the love song that you constantly played at home, singing like a performer at a full stadium on a Wakandan Public Holiday. 

Whether you could carry a note was irrelevant at the time, although you thought you had a decent enough voice. 

As the chorus came along, you put your hand out to Okoye, who was being cheered out by your audience. She walked to you, taking your extended hand as you got into the second verse. 

With her close to you, you could see her face completely flushed with shock. You knew for a fact that internally, she was blushing, even if she would later use her melanated skin to deny it. 

You got a bit slower during the second verse, singing your own version of the song. Changing the lyrics to ones that you knew Okoye would love. 

Halfway through the verse, even she forgot that you had company around, letting you finish the song with her in your embrace. She loved when you expressed your extra loving side. Even when you were making a fool of yourself. She didn’t hold the same belief that your voice was the best, but that didn’t matter. As long as you were the one singing to her, she didn’t care how many notes you missed. 

As the song came to a close, your eyes were both closed. She whispered in your ear as she opened her eyes. “We’ll work on that high note.” you gasped dramatically as she laughed at her words. 

“ I just serenaded you in public. Give me some credit.” you smiled a toothy smile as she kissed you softly. 

As you untangled from your position. You got back to business, making Okoye stand in front of you as you held your mic to your lips again. 

“On this beautiful day, I just wanted to ask this amazing love of my life a question everyone.” 

Okoye's eyebrows raised in confusion. 

“Will you… go to breakfast with me and spend the day as my valentine?” you said. 

She chuckled, nodding her head. You put the mic down, taking the bouquet from Aneka and thanking her. Okoye gasped at the size of it, definitely questioning why that was the size you chose.

“You’re quite the valentine.” she complimented. 

“I’ll say. This is just the beginning, my love.”

By now, the crowd had dissipated, but you knew that a few videos were taken, so everyone would know about it at some point. 

You directed Okoye to a smaller dining area in the palace, where a private breakfast had been prepared. 

You sat down next to each other and ate, enjoying the casual conversation that came, as though you hadn’t just done what you had. 

“Is the whole day going to be like this?” She asked. 

“Like what? Romantic?” you got worried, because it was going to be filled with romance, and if she didn’t want that then the entire day would be terrible for her. 

“No. I know it’s going to be romantic. But. is it going to be as public as that?” She hesitated to say it, not wanting to ruin any one of your plans.

You shook your head in relief. “ No! That was the only thing. I had to start off big. Everything else will mostly just be the two of us.”

“Mostly?” 

“Yes, mostly. I couldn’t plan a great day without any sort of help.” 

She nodded, not being able to argue with logic. Her morning training stiffness had already faded in your presence. Having a nice breakfast with her was rare. She would usually obsess about you having fainted at night, or she was gone to the palace and you were busy with your own work. 

It was a rare moment where none of those worries were mentioned, mostly because you had banned her from asking if you were okay at any point in the day. You wanted just one day where she didn’t have to worry about you.

The two of you finished and got ready, while you handed Okoye the clothes she needed to change into. It was still training garments, but a lot less casual. 

She gave you eyes of question when you handed them to her but obliged and wore the clothes before taking your hand in hers and allowing you to lead the way. 

Thirty Minutes Later

“Where are we going, Y/n?” Okoye asked you as you continued to walk to your destination. When you told her that you would take a quick walk to your next planned date, she thought you meant that it was 5 minutes away. She didn’t realise that you actually planned to take an entire walk. 

“We’re almost there, Sthandwa. Not even 5 minutes away, I promise.” you responded. 

She sighed, not saying anything else. She really wanted to know if you were okay, having travelled by foot for many metres, but you had made her promise not to ask you anything about the way you felt physically for the whole day. 

She was a woman who kept to her word, but she hated every second of it. She knew that her concern could sometimes be overbearing and she knew that she needed to work on it, but she just wanted to make sure that you were okay. It had been many months since she had found out, but she still worried like the first time it had happened. 

She couldn’t help her protectiveness for you. Her love for you was just too strong for her to want to let anything happen to you. 

You could tell that she wanted to ask. She barely went that long without doing a check in with you, but you loved how she respected her promise to you.

As you slowed down, Okoye followed you, not having a clue where the two of you were. It was only when you were only a few metres away from your destination that Okoye was connecting the dots on what you had planned for your portion of the day. 

She stopped dead in her tracks, grabbing your arm to stop you while giving you a bewildered look. 

"Y/n. Why are we in front of Wakanda's most prestigious dance instructors' house?" She asked you, Watching you struggle to find a reasonable answer as you smiled mischievously.

"I booked a lesson for us. I thought it would be fun. We don't do these things that often." 

She let out a chuckle, "We both have 2 left feet. Why do you think we of all people should do this?" 

"Like I said, I thought, and still think that it will be fun." 

“Hmm.” She scoffed, letting you lead the way to the entrance. You gladly knocked on the door of the home, not having any fear after your singing. Not a single other plan for the day scared you now that you were done with that. 

You were excitedly greeted by S'Yata, Wakanda’s famed dance instructor. She specialised in choreographing wedding dancing, and she was well known for making the most sensual first dances for the marrying couples that hired her. 

Okoye again wanted to know why you were there if you had no plans to get married soon, and even if you did, she would never want to do a first dance choreographed by S’Yata at her wedding. They were known to be difficult to the average couple, but the two of you were not an average couple. Not when it came to dancing. One thing that the two of you desperately lacked was rhythm. Granted, it wasn;t as bad as Okoye made it in her head. You could dance a little. And she could move her body on command too. 

It was just the formal stuff that the two of you weren’t too good at. After a tragic wedding dance proved this point, the two of you had refrained from doing any form of wedding dances ever since.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” S’Yata said, welcoming you inside. You looked back at Okoye and gave her a not so reassuring lopsided smile.

1 hour later…

"Okoye you're too far away. Come closer." You instructed. The two of you had finally got the basics to the dance down, and you didn’t want to lose the flow.

"I'm as close as I'll allow myself to be in public, Y/n. This position already feels extremely indecent for others to see." Okoye said, looking at S’Yata as she said it.

You laughed, seeing what she was trying to imply by 'public'. To her defence, the two of you were more minimalistic in your public displays of affection. And you had promised to keep the rest of the day less public. But S’Yata was only one person, and you really wanted to get the dance right. 

The two of you were already chest to chest and leg to leg, so there wasn’t much room to spare. But Okoye needed to hug you closely as you slowly swayed. 

“Please. For your Valentine?” You asked, kissing her cheek sweetly. 

Instantly, she hugged you closely, and you swayed back and forth. 

“I love you.” you whispered. 

“I love you more.” she said. 

You stayed like that, even getting enough flow for S’Yata to just leave the two of you in her studio, allowing you to enjoy the moment.

“You’re going to like what we do next, Okoye. I promise. Just the two of us from here on out.” 

Okoye smiled at that, still winded from the dancing. You seemed to be in high spirits, and you hadn’t slowed down to even catch your breath.

When the quinjet arrived in the sky, and landed not too far from the two of you, She got excited once again. You walked her inside, and she saw how advanced the quinjet was. It was far more advanced than the ones that were used currently. 

“Shuri allowed me to use the new prototype for a few hours.” You explained. 

“How did you know about this before I did? I’m the General.”

“Being noisy comes with perks, Okoye.” you joked. 

The two of you sat in the pilot seats that were situated in front, wanting to see the view, but you kept the jet on autopilot like it had arrived, wanting to enjoy seeing wakanda from the sky without worrying about steering. 

The jet lifted into the air, and you spent an hour just staring out of the window, admiring your country. It was only when you noticed that Okoye had gotten strangely quiet, that you broke the silence.

“Say it.” you said, getting her to turn to you. 

She looked at you in confusion, “ Say what?”

“Ask me the golden question. I know you want to and that’s why you refuse to relax, Okoye. So just ask me this one time.” 

She smiled, “How are you feeling?” 

“Pretty good. I’m on the best date in the world, with the one woman that I love and she agreed to do this for me so I-”

“-Y/n,” She said, seeing what you were doing, “That is not what I meant.” 

You let out an exaggerated sigh, before finally getting serious. “I’m okay, Okoye. I haven’t felt dizzy or anything today. So I’d say that I feel very good.”

She eased up at that, but still there was a trace of tension in her face, and that was not the point of valentines day. 

“How are you feeling, darling?”

“I feel good.”

“Don’t lie to me.” you said. flat-toned.

“Okay. Honestly, I feel good about today. And about you. But, I worry that I’m overbearing and that might chase you away.” 

“You can’t chase me away. I’m here for the long run.” you reassured her, “But… you are overbearing.” 

“I love that you care enough to make sure that I’m okay. But I’m a grown woman, Okoye. I’m done with the lies and I always tell you when I don’t feel well, so there is no need to constantly try to protect me.” you had been getting frustrated with the constant worry that she carried around when you were together. And the worry that doubled when you were apart. 

“I’m sorry. I’m going to work on it. I promise I will, sthandwa sam.”

You got up from your seat, and went to sit with her. The chair was not big enough to fit two grown people, so you ended up just sitting on Okoye’s lap, kissing her head and wrapping your arms around her. 

“I promise I won’t leave, Okoye. I just want you to trust me when I say that I'm okay.”

You’d grown tremendously over the past months, and your ability to be honest with people had gotten better. You had slowly been telling more people about your fainting spells, being more accepting of your not so new reality. The people around you were always supporting you. 

They were there to catch you when you unexpectedly fainted, and the released stress from hiding had reduced the amount of spells you had in general. You no longer had to lie and say that you were okay when you weren’t. And it was all thanks to the woman that held you. 

You would never leave her, as long as you heart felt the way that it did. 

“I’m not leaving either.” Okoye whispered, before the two of you closed your eyes and fell asleep. 

By the time that you woke up, you were back on ground, and the evening sun had started fading into darkness. 

You had one thing left, a nice dinner. 

The two of you went home, and freshened up, getting dressed a lot more formally before leaving the house. 

You had made reservations at a new restaurant in the city. The place had just opened during the new year, and they had luckily had openings for the night when you called. 

You were directed to a table in the corner. A loveseat that you had paid extra for. Scoping the menus and choosing your meals before the server arrived. 

“Thank you for today. I really loved being your valentine.” Okoye complimented, and your lips involuntarily spread into a wide smile. One of the many that the day had brought. 

“Hi, can I please get the bill?” a voice came.

Your blood ran cold as the voice of your nightmares spoke. Your smile was immediately wiped clean and your body grew rigid. Flashbacks of your ex came rushing back and when you looked to the left and saw her, not in prison, your body instantly grew anxious. 

Okoye saw the change as soon as it happened, and when you didn’t reply to her calling you she got worried. 

“Y/n, what's wrong?” she took your hand in hers, massaging your palm to calm you down. 

“It’s her.” you let out, with no further explanation. Your breathing got shaky and your heart rate increased as you tried to take a breath.

Okoye wanted to ask who you were talking about, but seeing you she knew that there was only one person who could make you that anxious. 

She stood up slightly, and saw what you had, recognising her from your descriptions of her. She was tall and muscular but she wasn’t very intimidating. She only looked like a threat to the people that knew what she was capable of. 

Okoye’s blood started to boil, seeing the woman smile so happily. She ruined you for so long, and you were only just starting to land on your feet. If it were up to her she would rot in as a prisoner for the rest of her miserable life. 

“Okay, let’s go. I can cook dinner.” She said, already getting out of her chair to help you up. 

Your body cooperated without your mind's consent, as your mind was in a different world. Okoye politely told the waiters that you were leaving, and helped you take your shoes off to walk easier. 

As you walked out into the empty street, the voice came again. 

“Y/n. I guess we meet again.” 

You turned around to look at her, but Okoye stood firmly in front of you as she took stared daggers at Chedano, who had a proud smile smothered on her face.

“ I see you got protection now. Scared to be alone with your one true love.” 

“If I were you, I would tread lightly and think very carefully about the next thing you said.” Okoye said sharply, reaching for her spear as she secured your position behind her. You didn’t move, you body paralysed in place as you looked at the women who used to hurt and torture you. 

“You know, we never formally broke up, so whatever this it between you and the General is cheating ,Y/n” she sneered “We wouldn’t want to have to teach you a thing or two about loyalty, would we.” 

Okoye unleashed her spear, pointing it at the woman. 

“Threaten her one more time and see what happens Chedano. I have no problem taking you back to prison.” 

Chedano, backed away at the sight, and her smile faded at the word prison. 

Okoye approached her, pointing her spear right at her chest. 

“If I ever so much as catch a whiff of you being near her, or communicating with her. Prison will be the least of your worries.” Okoye said, jumping towards her abruptly and grazing her spear only slightly through her arm. Leaving a big gash. 

Chedano nodded, running away as blood dripped on the street. 

Immediately, Okoye turned to you and was by your side. 

“My love…” she said as you broke down in her arms, the tears flushing out.

“I’m sorry. Let’s go home.” she said, lifting you and wrapping your legs around her waist as you cried into her shirt while she walked you to your house. 

She kept comforting you as she walked, allowing you to let it out, your fear only increasing as the minutes went by. 

By the time you got home, you were in a full blown panic attack, your body in a full panic. 

She put you down on your bed, standing in front of you as she comforted you, helping you breathe through it. The night had settled in, and the darkness only brought more fear. 

You breathed with Okoye, holding her hands as your heart settled into a slower rhythm. 

“I think I'm gonna faint, Okoye.” you said, feeling it coming. 

“That’s okay. I’m here, Y/n. I’m he-” 

You passed out. 

Okoye laid you on the bed, placing you on your side and waiting. 

After a gruesome 10 minute wait, you started to open your eyes. You were calmer when you saw Okoye there. 

She kissed you head, going to get you water, while you sat up in your bed. 

“Thank you.” you said as she handed you the water. 

You drank it while focusing on remaining calm, like you had worked on. Okoye stayed with you, getting into bed with you and holding your hand. 

“I’m here. I love you."she whispered to you as your eyes slowly started to close. You nodded your head, defeated. 

“I love you so much. And you planned the best date I’ve ever had today. We don’t have to talk about what happened now, but I'm here. I will always be here to protect you, my love. You are my entire world, and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you ever again.” 

“Thank you.” you whispered again, but a tear rolled down your face. She wiped it away for you. 

“I love you. Thank you.” you said, and allowed yourself to hug her. 

”Healing is an art. It takes time, it takes practice. It takes love.” – Maza Dohta 

Author's Note: After a long wait, Part 3 is here. I loved writing this. It was sort of healing. This is of course my contribution to Valentine's Week, but I do think there were a few things that I wanted to say in terms of love. 

I want every person reading this to know that it is okay if you didn’t realise that your abuser was abusing you. There is no shame in taking a lot of time to fully recover from it either. Those types of things can take a lot from you. Many of us were never told that abusive behaviours were actually abusive. Being queer, it's even harder to navigate that world because we are so busy fighting the world to prove that we are valid and our love is valid, it leaves us more vulnerable to being unknowingly manipulated and hurt without us realising it.

You deserve the type of love that fights for you, not with you. 

Happy Valentine's Week, and I love you. 💙

#okoye one shot #protective okoye #general okoye #okoye x reader #angst with a happy ending #fluff #comfort #relationships #x female reader #x reader #black panther2 #black panther #wakanda forever #part 3 of 3 #okoye x fem reader #okoye fluff #black panther okoye #okoye angst #okoye fic

[delacyrose224]

This Love

Pairing: Beomgyu x reader with a tiny bit of Taehyun x reader

Genre: Fluff, a little angst, Regency!AU

Tropes: Childhood friends to enemies to lovers, miscommunication, slight love triangle

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: SFW, mentions of blood

Synopsis: Once upon a time, you were in love with Choi Beomgyu...but that was before you grew up, he left, he changed, and now you want nothing to do with him. So why is it that you can't seem to escape him, even when another man is courting you?

Author's Note: This is a part of A Season of Refreshments and Courtship collab! Other fics will be posted throughout the month, so be sure to check those out. This story was heavily inspired by This Love by Taylor Swift...obsessed!

“You truly don’t know how horrid you are, do you?” Your eyes narrow as you tilt your head upwards, looking at the man across from you directly in the eyes.

His eyes sparkle playfully as he steps closer, hand outstretched to take your own in his palm.

“Please, enlighten me…nothing would make my heart more glad than for you to regale me with your opinions on my upstanding character.”

You let out a huff in response, gripping his hand tighter than necessary as you take light steps around his lanky figure.

“Firstly, you cannot hardly go more than a moment without mentioning your skill at fencing-an admirable skill in a normal person, but must you drone on and on at length? Secondly, you refuse to take your role as your father’s heir seriously.” At this, the gentleman across from you opens his mouth to refute your claim, but you barrel on. 

“Most importantly, you are a rake…don’t think I haven’t heard about your exploits via Yeonjun,” you hiss, glancing over your shoulder at your older brother before bringing your gaze back to the man you’re dancing with.

“Ah yes, yours truly, the most devious rake of the ton. That must be why your mother invited me to the opera with your family tomorrow night?” A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he sees you try to hide your look of dismay. “Something about trying to get you married off soon…seems I’m one of the most eligible bachelors of the season. A far cry from a rake, I’d say.”

Marrying Choi Beomgyu…what on earth was your mother thinking? Did she want you to be miserable for all of your days?

—---------------------------------------

“Is it true? Mother wants to marry me off?” You’ve cornered Yeonjun the next morning after breakfast.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact.

“Surely you can’t be that surprised? You are of a marriageable age, sister.”

“Yes…but isn’t your engagement enough to be getting on with? Why worry about me?” You pace across the room, and Yeonjun brings his gaze up to follow your movements. 

“She’s occupied somewhat with my engagement, but you know better than anyone that she wants to make sure you’re taken care of. It’s different for a woman, you know that. I’m expected to be the head of the household now…she just wants to make sure you have someone that can provide for you.”

“...I can provide for myself,” you seethe, collecting the plates and silverware from breakfast and bringing them to the sink.

Yeonjun sighs. “I know you can, but I also know that Mother won’t rest until she finds a suitable match for you.”

“A suitable match being Choi Beomgyu?” You glare at your brother, daring him to affirm your statement. 

“W-what?!” He splutters incredulously as you let out a small laugh at his expression.

“According to Beomgyu himself, he’s been invited to attend the opera with us tonight. Because Mother thinks he may be a good match for me.” You roll your eyes in a most unladylike fashion, but at this juncture, who is around to care?

“Just because the two of you used to be childhood friends doesn’t mean you’d be a good match now. I suppose I did catch the two of you kissing in the garden once when you were thirteen though…” Yeonjun raises an eyebrow at you while letting out a laugh.

“We were CHILDREN, I didn’t know any better. I didn’t think he’d turn out so…so…immature and ridiculous!”

“He is rich, though. And handsome.” 

It’s your turn to raise an eyebrow.

“What? I’m just stating facts. The rich part is probably what Mother’s interested in though. That and the fact that our families have been friends for goodness knows how long. If you don’t want to marry him, you’d better find someone else suitable to go in his place…and fast.”

—-------------------------------------- 

Turns out that ‘someone’ Yeonjun mentioned wasn’t so hard to find.

“I’d like for all of you to meet Kang Taehyun, one of my best friends from our boarding school days…he’s fresh from his Grand Tour of the continent!” Beomgyu waves his arm with a flourish, stepping to the side to reveal a handsome blond gentleman with sharp features and wide eyes standing behind him.

“The pleasure is all mine, I can assure you.” Taehyun lowers his head in a bow to the group, which consists of your parents, Yeonjun, his fiancee Eliza, and yourself. His gaze lingers on you a beat longer than the others, which doesn’t go unnoticed by either you or your mother. As you take your seats, Taehyun makes it a point to sit to your right, and Beomgyu sits on your left. 

You sit in silence through act one of the opera, entranced by the talent of the performers on stage. As though a cue was given to the both of them, the two men to either side of you lean towards you.

“It’s rather boring, don’t you think?” Beomgyu whispers rather loudly while sending you a smirk.

“They’re so talented, don’t you think?” is Taehyun’s counter, smiling gently at you with sparkling eyes.

You smooth your skirts as you adjust in your chair to be facing more towards Taehyun, ignoring Beomgyu’s comment completely, which causes him to immediately begin sulking in his seat.

As you chat with the newcomer throughout the remainder of the performance, you discover that Taehyun just arrived from Rome, where he had been studying art.

“I’ve returned with so many paintings, I simply couldn’t bear to only have a few. I’d love to show you them, if your ladyship would be interested, of course.”

You can’t help the grin that makes its way across your face at his request.

“I would be delighted, Taehyun. In return, I can show you some of my work-I write in my spare time, and I hope to become a published author one day.” 

At this admission, Taehyun’s eyes grow wide and he eagerly nods in interest.

“Surely you can’t be serious?” Beomgyu scoffs from behind you. You turn to look at him, and confusion clouds Taehyun’s face.

“Surely I can’t be serious about what?” you counter, daring him to make a scene in public.

“You’ve just met the man, and you’re offering to show him your writing because he wants to show off the paintings he bought while he was in Italy? Doesn’t seem quite a fair trade-off to me.” 

“Just because you lost interest in my writings years ago, doesn’t mean no one else wants to read them, Beomgyu. Some of us want to actually make something of ourselves, and have an impact on the world. Don’t you think there must be more to life than gambling, fencing, and breaking women’s hearts?”

Hurt races across Beomgyu’s face for two seconds before he schools his face back into neutrality. Before he has the chance to reply, you’ve turned back towards Taehyun.

“Now, what were we discussing?”

The gentleman in front of you shakes his head, taken aback by the exchange he had just witnessed. “Just…just your writings. I must say, Miss Y/L/N, that was rather forward of you just now with Beomgyu. Are you always this forthcoming with your opinions?”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure of whether you’re being judged or not.

“Yes, I tend to speak my mind more often than not. Why do you ask?”

Taehyun reaches for your gloved hand, bringing it to his lips and looking up at you.

“Women with wit tend to make life more interesting, that’s all.” 

—----------------------------------------

The next morning, you awake to your mother opening the curtains in your room, sunlight streaming onto your face.

“Get up, you have to get ready!”

“For what?” you grumble, pulling the covers towards your head to block out the light. This does nothing to deter your mother, who simply pulls the covers completely off the bed, leaving you no choice but to get up.

“Morning calls, of course! You’ve already received flowers from Beomgyu today, which is very kind of him.” Your mom smiles warmly, which you can’t help but roll your eyes at.

“Y/N, don’t be so unbearable! Beomgyu has been nothing but nice to you for years, and you used to be such good friends when you were small…what happened? His mother and I always imagined the two of you would be betrothed!”

“Don’t remind me,” you groan, your mother’s smile faltering as she goes to leave. She is quick to replace it with a smug look as she turns back to you in the doorway. 

“You’ve also received a lovely bouquet from Mr. Kang, if that’s of any interest. You’ll need to be ready to receive both of them in the foyer in an hour, so make haste.” And with that, she’s gone.

—--------------------------------

An hour later, you’re nervously scuffing your foot against the floorboards awaiting the arrival of your two potential suitors…the thought alone makes you want to turn and run far, far away.

Choi Beomgyu, your childhood best friend. A long time ago, you would have jumped at the chance to marry him. He made you laugh, he was sweet, and he believed in all of your dreams, no matter how lofty they were. He was quick to see the best in situations, treated your family well, and yes…he was handsome, and had frustratingly only gotten more so as he’d grown older. 

But that was before everything changed. He’d gone away to boarding school at fourteen, the only communication between the two of you letters. The letters eventually stopped after a couple of years. You supposed you’d just grown apart, a natural side effect of growing up…but then you heard the rumors about his gambling. Womanizing. When he returned, any interactions with you seemed like he was only trying to get under your skin for the fun of it. He wasn’t the Beomgyu you had been enamored by as a young girl, and it both angered you and made you feel like there was a small hole in your heart. It was unfair-you had remained the same, and he’d become a worse version of himself.

On the other hand, there was Kang Taehyun. Though wary of the fact that he was friends with Beomgyu, you could tell from your interactions at the opera that they were not the same type of person. Taehyun shared a lot of your interests, wasn’t threatened by the fact that you had ambition or opinions, and seemed to even enjoy the fact that you were more than willing to put Beomgyu in his place when needed. He too was handsome, though in a different way than Beomgyu was. You were somewhat surprised that he had made his intentions clear this early on-was he someone that you could see yourself marrying? You had just about given up on the idea of a love match, believing that a marriage of convenience was the best you could hope for. And as far as convenience went, Taehyun didn’t seem too bad of an option…he couldn’t be any worse than Beomgyu, after all.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock at the door, and the entrance of both men in question. No sooner than the obligatory pleasantries had passed, Beomgyu was stepping forward, asking you to take a walk through the garden. 

“Actually, I would rather-” Your sentence is cut off by a quick nudge of your mother’s elbow to your ribs, as she gives you a look.

“I’d love to,” you manage to spit out without looking completely disgusted, threading your arm through his when he offers it.

As you walk into the bright sunlight, there is silence for a few moments until Beomgyu breaks it, speaking slightly too loud at first and then adjusting his tone.

“Lovely weather we’re having.”

“Yes, I suppose it is rather pleasant. Company withstanding, of course.”

“I cannot be that bad, Y/N. I’ve had many glowing reviews from other ladies who have spent afternoons in my company.” Beomgyu grins at you, and you remain stone faced. “What?”

“Why, pray tell, do you think I want to hear about all the time you have spent with other eligible women? Isn’t that the last subject you should be broaching with someone you seem hellbent on marrying whether she is interested or not?” Your voice is getting louder with each sentence, face flushing due to both your emotions and the heat of the day.

“I was only jesting, I didn’t mean-” Beomgyu starts, eyes wide with shock.

“You never do mean much, do you? It’s rather bigheaded of you to think you can just come waltzing back into my life without so much a care in the world, assuming you’ll be able to swoop in and marry me!” You’re surprised to find tears swimming in your eyes, which you quickly brush away.

Beomgyu steps forward tentatively, reaching towards your hand, but you snatch it back out of his reach. He falters, rubbing the back of his neck and not quite able to look you in the eyes.

“Once upon a time, you said you wanted to marry me…”

“Yes, Beomgyu, when we were kids and I didn’t know any better. Before I knew what I wanted.”

He looks up, brown eyes searching yours, like he might find a secret you’ve been keeping all these years. “And what’s that?”

Just then, Taehyun strides up the path, calling out to you. You wipe the last tear away from your face, and school your features into a smile before you turn away from Beomgyu.

“Taehyun! How nice to see you again.”

—--------------------------------------

Like your walk with Beomgyu, your walk with Taehyun through the garden starts in silence, the two of you admiring the bright blooms that adorn each side of the path.

Taehyun eventually clears his throat and turns to you, bright eyed but seeming slightly timid.

“Miss Y/L/N…forgive me if this is too personal a question, but are you alright? It seemed like your conversation with Mr. Choi was getting rather heated, and I never like to see a lady upset.”

You let out a small sigh and gaze into Taehyun’s eyes, trying to decide whether to be honest. His earnestness sways you-you may be marrying him after all, so what’s the harm in telling the truth?

“I am…alright. It’s just, Beomgyu and I have a lot of history, we’ve known each other since we were children. He knows all the ways to get under my skin, and chooses to use that to torment me endlessly…yet now he believes that he should have the privilege of being my betrothed, when none of his actions or words seem to line up if that’s the goal he has in mind.”

Taehyun is quiet as he ponders over what you’ve said, guiding you towards the center of the garden.

“He talks about you a lot, you know.”

You glance up, eyes wide in surprise and Taehyun chuckles.

“It’s true. When I first met Beomgyu at boarding school, he had a hard time making friends. And the friends he did make, he was always talking about you. Days when he’d receive letters from you, you couldn’t dampen his mood no matter how hard you tried. He cares for you a great deal even now, even if he’s too bullheaded to show it properly.”

Taehyun pauses now and faces toward you. “The question is, how do you feel about him?” 

It’s only then that you notice where the two of you have stopped-the dead center of the garden, in front of the willow tree where Yeonjun had caught Beomgyu kissing you on the cheek all those years ago. You had been beyond embarrassed that your older brother had caught the two of you, but Beomgyu had only beamed while flushing a deep scarlet. “Are you planning on marrying my sister, hmm?” Yeonjun had laughed. You had run away before you could be embarrassed any further.

You’re shaken back to the present by Taehyun repeating his question to you.

“When I was a foolish little girl, I entertained the notion of marrying Beomgyu when I was older. He changed when he went away to boarding school, and that is that. I am much more interested in pursuing other avenues to marriage…namely you, if you will have me, that is.” 

You have the sense to at least look away from Taehyun as you say this, knowing it was potentially crossing the line, even for you who was used to saying whatever came to mind. 

Taehyun’s laughter rings out across the garden, and when you look up, his eyes are sparkling with mirth. “Well, when you put it that way, how could I refuse? You surely do know how to keep a man on his toes. Shall I declare my intentions then?”

A light flush dusts your cheeks, pleased that he is interested in marriage and at the fact that this will free you from Beomgyu’s efforts once and for all.

“I will have my mother arrange a picnic, and we shall be the talk of the ton.”

—------------------------------------------

Your mother is only too eager to prepare an extravagant picnic once you tell her about Taehyun’s intentions to declare an engagement.

“I knew you two would be a good match! He’s so kind, and he comes from a good family. You’ll be well taken care of!” 

You can’t help but roll your eyes good-naturedly, but her excitement is contagious and you find yourself looking forward to the picnic…and dare you say it, your impending engagement. Taehyun is pleasant company, and maybe, just maybe-eventually you may grow to love him. That thought alone causes faint butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

The day of the picnic arrives, sunny and warm. You put on a brand new dress your mother had gifted you, a soft lavender, and once you step outside, you see that company has already started to arrive. 

There are multiple tents set up with food and drink, croquet is set out on the lawn, and people are milling about chatting with each other. Movement in your periphery draws your attention, and as you turn, you see Beomgyu approaching you. You give a polite curtsy as he inclines his head toward you. 

“You look…” He seems at a loss for words.

“...yes?”

“You look beautiful.” There is no trace of humor in his voice, and his eyes glow with warmth as he holds eye contact a beat more than is proper.

“She always does, doesn’t she?” Taehyun appears on your other side, offering you his arm which you gladly take. “Catch up with you later?” He offers to Beomgyu, leading you away to make the obligatory social rounds as one of the hostesses of the event.

—-------------------------------

The picnic is a rousing success-that is, until there’s a commotion over at one of the tents. You head that way, curious what is causing such a disturbance. You maneuver through the gathered crowd, only to see Beomgyu and Taehyun at the center.

“A fencing match, for old time’s sake?” 

Of course Beomgyu is trying to cause chaos in the middle of what is supposed to be your engagement announcement…because why not?

“If you’re willing to be embarrassed and lose in front of everyone, absolutely.”

Your head whips around to look at Taehyun, surprised to see him take the bait. He’s smiling coolly, confident in his abilities. Meanwhile Beomgyu has a wild glint to his eyes-you know he’s competitive, but there’s something else there you can’t quite place.

The two men march away from the tent to an open space, and Yeonjun appears with two fencing sabres seemingly out of nowhere. Taehyun and Beomgyu each remove their jackets and take up the proper stance.

“En garde!” Beomgyu shouts, and the impromptu match begins. It goes on for longer than you think, and surprisingly all the bragging Beomgyu had done about his fencing skills weren’t just for show. He’s keeping up with Taehyun, and occasionally getting a few jabs in.

Your mother gives a loud and obvious ‘tsk’, and as you turn to look at her, Beomgyu’s voice rings out across the yard, almost a growl and deeper than his normal baritone.

Your gaze flies to the source of the sound, and you can see Beomgyu clutching at his shoulder, a bright red blooming under the stark white of his shirt.

Taehyun steps forward, forehead scrunched in concern, reaching out to examine the wound, but before he can reach the man in front of him, you’ve beaten him to it.

You don’t recall how you got from the tent you’d been standing under to Beomgyu, and you don’t particularly care. Up close, you can tell that he’s lost a decent amount of blood, and as you look up your eyes lock. He’s clearly shocked that you’re standing in front of him, his breath tickling the stray hairs that have fallen across your forehead in the heat of the day.

“Miss Y/L/N…” he murmurs. “I’ll be fine, I just need to wash up.”

Without saying a word, you grab his hand not attached to his wounded shoulder, leading him up to the house while the crowd watches on, flabbergasted. As the two of you move away, whispers start flying. 

You pay them no mind, marching Beomgyu through the front door and into the bathroom. You force him to sit, rolling up his sleeve just past his elbow. Though the shirt is loose-fitting, you can’t get it to roll up any further. 

“I’m…just…trying…to see!” you exclaim, watching the sleeve get caught on Beomgyu’s bicep yet again.

“Here, let me.” He gently pushes your hand out of the way, and using his uninjured arm, balls up the fabric and pulls harshly…so harshly, there’s a loud ripping noise as his left sleeve completely detaches from his shirt. 

You’re left gaping at his exposed arm for two reasons. One, the open wound on his shoulder is bleeding more freely now that there is no barrier stopping it. Two, even beneath all the blood that’s started to cake, you can see defined muscles that were most certainly not there before Beomgyu went off to boarding school.

“Are you okay?” Beomgyu’s voice startles you back to the present, where you swiftly take a cloth, soak it with lukewarm water, and begin to gently clean on and around his wound. He grimaces as you have to use more pressure closer to the cut.

“At least it’s relatively surface level, at least from what I can see. You should be okay if you don’t use a wide range of motion, I think.” You stand back, admiring your handiwork after wrapping the wound in clean strips of cloth.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and as you glance up, he meets your gaze with an intense stare. 

“Is there something wrong? Is it too tight? I can rewrap it-”

“What do you see in him?”

You’re left agog at Beomgyu’s sudden question. “W-what?”

“What do you see in him?” He repeats, softer and almost shyly.

“Who?” You quirk an eyebrow, wondering if he’s really inquiring into your love life after his arm has been sliced open.

“Taehyun.”

He is.

“He’s kind, and from a good family. He’s intelligent, and doesn’t think that I’m silly for wanting to write stories for a living. Taehyun likes that I have opinions, it’s…refreshing.”

Beomgyu’s eyes narrow slightly as it seems he is considering your words. Silence fills the small space, and as it continues, it feels like you’re starting to suffocate. 

Just when you think you can’t take it any longer, his response shatters the tension, but replaces it with something else.

“I’ve always loved your stories. And hearing your opinions.” Your eyes go wide. “Our families have been friends for years. I’m smart enough.” As he continues, Beomgyu stands and moves closer to you. “I’m not always the kindest person, but I would never mistreat you.”

You’re inches apart now, but you won’t stand for Beomgyu and whatever he’s trying to pull to ruin your potential engagement to Taehyun. Not even if your heart feels like it’s beating so hard it might fall out of your chest. You glare up at the man in front of you.

“Beomgyu, are you jealous?”

He raises his hand to your shoulder, tracing along the lavender lace that sits on the seam of your dress. Just as you move to swat his hand away, he speaks and you’re left stunned.

“Does Taehyun know that I left a permanent mark on you?” He slides the fabric an inch or two, leaving your collarbone exposed. Beomgyu then moves his fingers to gently ghost over an almost invisible scar that starts at your shoulder, his touch causing both the sensation of butterflies and a deep longing to fling yourself at him as he stops just as the scar dips towards your decolletage. 

Heat burns its way through your body, landing on your cheeks. Beomgyu had given you that scar when you were children, a fencing match with sticks gone awry.

“He doesn’t,” you breathe, unable to form any other words as his hand lifts your chin, forcing you to make eye contact.

“If you’ll have me, he never will.” Beomgyu’s baritone wraps around you and it's as if you can feel his words seeping into your very bones.

Just then, the door flies open and there stands Taehyun.

“I just wanted to check on…oh.” His wide eyes take in the scene before him. Your dress pushed off your shoulder, Beomgyu’s hand under your chin, and your proximity to each other.

“Taehyun, it’s not what it looks like, I can explain!” You hastily push Beomgyu’s hand away, slipping your dress back fully onto your shoulder and moving towards the man in the doorframe.

“I’ll just see myself out.” He simply backs away through the door, closing it behind him like he was never there. Strangely, he didn’t seem angry. There was an odd look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place, though.

“Beomgyu, I’m sorry, I have to go, I have to talk to him, I’m sorry!” You fling the door open yourself, following quickly after the man you were supposed to marry. 

Beomgyu is left behind, ripped shirt, pink cheeks, and looking for all the world like his heart’s been shattered into a million pieces.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Taehyun…Taehyun!” You’re out of breath, losing steam as you pick up your skirts to run after the man who had just left.

How had he managed to get so far in such a short amount of time?

You exit the house, round the corner to the gardens, and run headlong into something hard and solid, almost losing your balance.

Before you can fall to the ground, a pair of strong arms steadies you and you look up into the startled eyes of Taehyun himself.

“Miss…are you alright?” His wide eyes scan you for any sign of injury.

“I’m fine, thank you. I just needed to explain, what you saw back there isn’t what you think it is, I-”

Taehyun holds out an arm to you calmly. “Let’s take a walk, shall we?”

Bewildered, you take his arm, not sure what’s happening. He guides you into the garden, just as he had the day after you met. After a few moments of silence, you attempt to speak again.

“Taehyun, it’s not what you think.”

“And what exactly do you think that I think it is?” He raises an eyebrow at you, a hint of a smirk playing across his face.

“It’s just, well…I’m sure you must think that I am sneaking around behind your back with Choi Beomgyu. I’m not, I swear on it! I was just trying to help with his injury, and then he was just too close and, and…we are not together, I would never risk my honor in that way! I am still very much interested in you as a potential match.” Your arms are flailing around as you explain, cheeks burning in humiliation.

Taehyun gently reaches for your arms, bringing them down to your sides. He looks down at you, warmth and kindness emanating from his gaze.

“I do not think you are two-timing me, Miss Y/N. And though I am interested in you as a potential match as well, I am afraid I no longer think it would be best for me to follow through on my proposal to you.”

Your eyes widen in horror as the two of you come to a stop, again in front of the willow tree from your youth.

“Taehyun, I’m sorry! I-I,” you stammer, tears welling up in your eyes. You can’t believe this is happening-in one moment, any hopes for your future have been swept away. All because you let your guard down in front of your childhood best friend.

“Let me explain,” Taehyun murmurs, swiping away an errant tear that has fought its way down your cheek. “It has been beyond apparent to me that my old schoolmate is still deeply enamored with you, and has been since we were young. Time has done little to nothing to change that. Upon meeting you, I came to realize what he saw in you-you’re brilliant, driven, and won’t take no for an answer. Of course, you are also stunningly beautiful. I felt so incredibly lucky that you were interested in me rather than Beomgyu. However, as time has progressed, I got an inkling that there may have been some unresolved feelings on your end as well. You said there were not, and I believed you.”

“But I don’t-” you start to protest, Taehyun moving his finger in front of your lips.

“What I just saw proves my original inclination to be right…you do have feelings for Choi Beomgyu, whether you realize it or not. You may be deep in denial to yourself, Miss Y/N, but I know that the way you were looking at him was not the way you look at someone you detest. As much as it pains me to do so, I fear I must back out of this competition…I refuse to be the reason that the two of you cannot be together.”

By this point, tears are fully streaming down your face. You want to refute what Taehyun is saying, tell him he’s wrong…the problem is, you’re not sure he is.

“This is where I must take my leave. I wish you and Beomgyu all the best, and I hope that you are able to at the very least reconcile your differences, if nothing more.”

Taehyun gives a short bow, striding stiffly toward the front gate. As he moves out of sight, there’s a rustling movement behind you. You tense up, afraid that you’ve made too much noise, drawing guests from the picnic towards the gardens. You let out a sigh of relief as you realize it’s just Eliza, Yeonjun’s fiance. 

“Y/N, you look awful! Are you okay?” 

As she draws closer, tears start rolling down your cheeks again.

“What? What is it? What happened?” She’s swimming in front of you, your vision blurred as she envelops you in a hug.

“B-Beomgyu did.” His name alone makes you break down into full on sobs, muffled into Eliza’s shoulder.

—----------------------------------------------------

As you wipe your tears away, Eliza leads you over to a bench to sit down.

“Now, tell me what happened.” 

You steady yourself with a deep breath before launching into what feels like your entire life story. All the way back to childhood, long summer days spent running around the grounds with Beomgyu-fencing with sticks, climbing trees, and spying on your older brother, which makes Eliza giggle.

Boarding school, and writing letters back and forth to each other until suddenly you weren’t. Rumors of womanizing and gambling. How you had retreated into yourself, feeling utterly betrayed by your best friend. You’d begun to seriously focus on writing when all the while your mother had wanted you to focus on finding a proper marriage match.

Which leads you all the way up until now, Beomgyu being back. Assuming he could be one of your suitors. Taehyun. What had transpired in the bathroom, and your conversation with Taehyun.

“In conclusion, I have no marriage options, mother is going to be angry at me until the day I die, and Beomgyu is still beyond frustrating to me,” you huff, blowing loose hairs out of your eyes.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your mother has arranged a ball for this upcoming weekend in celebration of you and Taehyun’s impending proposal. Once Beomgyu got injured today, she figured it would be best to reschedule an event for that purpose.” 

You groan.

“Regardless, she’ll find out one way or another that the proposal isn’t going to happen. My question for you is-this business about Beomgyu’s injury and your conversation with Taehyun…is it true?”

You begin to pick at your fingernails as you think about Eliza’s question, eventually looking at her. “Does Beomgyu have feelings for me? I think he may have when we were younger, but as of right now, I have no-”

“That’s not what I’m asking, it’s plain as day that man has feelings for you, and I’ve barely interacted with him. What I’m asking is, how do you feel about him?” Eliza raises an eyebrow expectantly as your mouth drops open in surprise. “Close your mouth, you’ll attract flies.”

You let out a strangled laugh, and instead of answering her question, you reply with another.

“How did you know you loved Yeonjun?”

Eliza takes the question in stride, pondering for a few moments before she answers.

“I knew I loved your brother when the idea of being in a relationship with any other man held no interest for me. Yeonjun made it very clear from the beginning that he was only interested in me…he was always sending flowers and small trinkets, asking to accompany me on outings, writing letters that were surprisingly heartfelt for how I know him to be now.” You giggle, imagining your older brother being sentimental. “It took me longer to sort out my feelings, his attention was honestly overwhelming at times. But when I laid in bed at night, I would always think about when I would see him again before I fell asleep. That’s when I knew I loved Yeonjun…and I cannot be more pleased to be marrying him.” Her cheeks turn pink as she finishes.

“Does he ever make you mad?” you counter. 

“Of course! Every man can be frustrating, and every person for that matter. No one can agree with everyone all the time. But even when he angers me, I always want to make things right. I couldn’t stand it if we were at odds for too long.”

Eliza tilts her head curiously at you. “Why are you asking me all this?”

You think back to everything you’ve told her. Childhood crushes, teenage heartbreak. All the time spent, secrets shared. The injury running across your collarbone. Letters, so many letters…all of which had been shoved under your floorboard for safekeeping. Though you hadn’t looked at them in ages, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to throw them out either. Taehyun’s words echo through your mind…

“I know that the way you were looking at him was not the way you look at someone you detest.”

You look at Eliza, a rueful smile on your face.

“My feelings for Beomgyu are…complicated. I wish it was like the way you are with my brother, but he infuriates me to no end sometimes. If he cares for me, he needs to tell me so, otherwise we will be stuck in this endless loop of confusion and heartache for all eternity.”

And with that, you march back towards the house, leaving Eliza bewildered in your wake.

—------------------------------------------------------------

Eliza’s words prove true-your mother has busied herself with preparations for a ball, to be thrown in your honor. Every time you see her making plans, putting decorations up, anything, you know you should talk to her and tell her that you no longer have any marriage prospects, that you’ve made a mess of everything.

You come close one day, as she sweeps past you, gobs of flowy fabric in her hands. You call out to her, but as she turns to face you, she seems so happy that you swallow your words before they can even leave your mouth.

And that leads you to now…the night of the ball. Your stomach is roiling, and you almost feel lightheaded as you make your way towards the throng of people milling about. They’re here for you, for Taehyun. Your eyes dart around for the man in question, finding him chatting across the room with Yeonjun. You see your brother nod in your direction, and Taehyun turns, making eye contact with you. You both freeze for a moment. He then gives you a curt nod, and goes back to his conversation. Yeonjun raises an eyebrow to you in question, but you give a slight shake of your head in return.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A deep baritone whispers in your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You turn, and it feels as if your breathing has been even more constricted than it already was by your undergarments. You’re met with Beomgyu’s brown eyes staring into your own, and as you skitter backwards in shock, his arms come up to hold you steady. 

“Are you alright? I apologize if I startled you.”

Your breath still seems to be caught in your throat, but you manage to nod meekly in response.

“Here, let me get you a drink.”

Beomgyu walks a few paces with you, grabbing a glass off a passing tray and handing it gently to you. You take a sip, the crisp bubbles seeming to open your throat again.

“How’s your arm?” you ask, eyes wide with concern. He shouldn’t be here at a ball when he’s injured, you think to yourself.

“Almost good as new, thanks to you…I had a doctor examine it as well, just in case, and he said he couldn’t have done a better job patching it up himself.” Beomgyu grins at you, twisting his arm at odd angles just to show you he can.

You smile in return, but he notices that it doesn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Is there something bothering you, darling?” 

Your heart skips a beat at his term of endearment, and your stomach goes queasy at the idea of telling him about everything that’s happened with Taehyun. You start wringing your hands together, unable to fully look Beomgyu in the eye. 

He reaches forward, untangling your hands with his own, running his thumbs gently over the backs of your hands which have started to turn red with irritation.

“You can tell me anything, always.” You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look this earnest in all the years you’ve known him, no trace of humor in his eyes.

Just as you start to reply, you hear a loud cough behind you. Beomgyu immediately releases your hands from his grasp, but it’s too late.

Your mother saw everything.

“Y/N, what is this? Shouldn’t you be dancing with Taehyun?” She looks between the two of you, clearly disappointed.

The brightness in Beomgyu’s eyes dulls a little as she speaks, and it’s almost as if you can see him withdrawing into himself.

“Mother, I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you this for days now…there will be no proposal.”

At this, her eyes go wide and Beomgyu’s eyebrows raise almost to his hairline.

“Why in the world not? What have you done to ruin things this time?” Your mother’s mouth is a thin line, anger written all over her face.

“I’m sure she can explain-” Beomgyu starts, trying to defend you.

“You are not a part of this conversation, Mr. Choi, so I suggest you see yourself out.” Though he’s taller, he shrinks under your mother’s vicious gaze.

“No need, I’m going to see myself out.” You glare at your mother, storming out of the ball so you can be anywhere but here. 

How dare she assume that it was your fault that things were called off? I mean, it sort of was, what with Taehyun arguing that not only did Beomgyu have feelings for you, but that it seemed you had feelings as well.

Your racing thoughts have brought you to the library which sits just off the main foyer. You pace the aisles, dust catching in the dim candlelight around the room. Eventually you slide down a bookcase to sit on the floor, head hung in your hands.

As you sit, breathing as deeply as you can manage in a corset, you hear the door creak open. You sit up straighter, bracing yourself to tell off some couple that’s snuck away from the party.

“Y/N, are you in here?” You’re surprised to see Beomgyu peeking around the corner of a bookshelf, breathing a sigh of relief once he sees you.

“...hi,” you manage weakly. He comes closer, choosing to slide down the bookcase to sit beside you.

“Hey.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, though it feels comfortable, not stifling.

“So…Taehyun was going to propose?” Beomgyu murmurs softly, though it feels as if the question takes up the whole room.

You look over at him and nod.

“What changed?” You can’t help but notice the twinge of sadness that seems to make his voice shake.

“Taehyun said that he couldn’t propose anymore. He didn’t want to ruin things.” You’ve begun wringing your hands again, and Beomgyu reaches to stop it by resting his hand on top of yours.

“Ruin what?”

You raise your gaze to meet his warm brown one. “He said you loved me…that you never stopped loving me.” Your voice is wobbly, and your stomach feels like it may drop completely out of your body.

Beomgyu lets out a short burst of laughter, which has you glaring at him in return.

“Why are you laughing?!” you huff.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…I just thought I had made it abundantly clear how I felt about you, that’s all.”

You stare at him, his expression unreadable.

“How…how do you feel about me?”

His hand wraps around your own, bringing it to his lips. Where his lips brush your skin feels like fire has erupted both upon the point of contact and within your heart.

“Taehyun’s right, I do love you. Always have, no matter how hard I tried not to.” He chuckles at your astonished face. “Surely you can’t be that surprised, dearest.” The candlelight is now reflecting in his eyes as he looks over at you, the sweetness in his gaze matching their chocolate color.

How have you been so blind all this time?

A sudden clattering noise steals your attention away from Beomgyu, and you look over to see the sheepish face of your brother placing books back onto a shelf that he’d knocked over.

As he tucks the final one away, he looks up and his embarrassment morphs into astonishment.

“What are you two…what the…did I-?” Yeonjun splutters, not even able to finish a complete thought.

“We were just talking, that’s all.” Beomgyu speaks up for the two of you.

Yeonjun’s eyes scan over the both of you, lingering on the fact that Beomgyu’s hand covers your own. Beomgyu makes no effort to retract his hand, his chin jutting out in defiance, as if he’s daring your brother to say anything else.

Yeonjun doesn’t take the bait, simply rolling his eyes and offering his hand out to you so you can stand. As you adjust your skirts, you look up to find him staring at you curiously.

“You’re expected out there, you know…mother will come looking for you if you don’t show up soon.” You move to follow him out the door, and almost crash into Yeonjun as he turns to face Beomgyu again. “And you-you wait a few minutes before leaving. Don’t want people getting the wrong idea.” With that he looks back at you, eyebrow raised, before striding out the door.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

You hurry down the hall after your brother, slightly out of breath by the time you catch up to him. The two of you walk in silence for a moment before he turns to look at you.

“Are you going to tell me what just happened, or do I have to put the pieces together myself?”

You round on your brother, incensed.

“Why do you need to know? Just so you can tell me to stay away from him like you have our entire lives?”

His steely gaze softens as he takes in your ire. “I just want to know, I’m your brother and I want to make sure you’re taken care of.” You narrow your eyes. “Those things I said about Beomgyu before…weren’t exactly…true.” Yeonjun looks ashamed and can’t quite meet your gaze.

“And what does that mean?”

“What I said about him being a womanizer isn’t true.”

“But why would you make up such a thing?”

“I saw how heartbroken you were once Beomgyu stopped writing you,” he starts.

“I was not-” you interrupt, but he continues talking.

“I know you keep his old letters under your floorboard to this day, sister, as much as you’ve tried to hide it. I saw how heartbroken you were, and I wanted to help. So I made those things up so you wouldn’t care for him any longer. I wanted you to have a proper chance at love, at happiness. It seems you’ve taken that into your own hands,” he smiles ruefully.

“...he said he loved me,” you breathe incredulously.

“Did you also believe he didn’t love you when he kissed you at thirteen?”

You shove Yeonjun’s arm in protest, and he just laughs.

“Eliza was right, you are blind.”

You’re approaching the crowd again, and you start to retort, but your brother starts drifting away from you.

“What’s that? I think I hear my fiancee calling me..”

You huff in indignation, doing your best to melt back into the crowd. 

—---------------------------------------------------

Your mother pretends as if nothing has happened once you make your reappearance. Yeonjun, on the other hand, keeps catching your eye across the room, motioning towards you and trying his best to wink, though it looks like rapid blinking. You can’t help but giggle at how silly he looks.

As promised, Beomgyu had waited several minutes before rejoining the festivities, but just as he moves to join you, you are surprised by Taehyun appearing at your side.

“Would you care to dance?”

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” you offer, which makes him smile as you take his outstretched hand.

You settle into a comfortable waltz, making small talk while turning about the ballroom. As the second half of the dance begins, you notice Beomgyu standing in the corner of the room, an unreadable expression on his face as he follows you and Taehyun with his eyes.

As Taehyun turns you through the dance, he notices him as well, sending a small smirk your way.

“He can’t keep his eyes off you, can he?” Your gaze jerks back to the man in front of you at his statement. “Should I expect a wedding invitation anytime soon?”

The air leaves your lungs at his question.

“What?” you choke out, “No, that’s not, we’re not-”

Taehyun’s brow scrunches in confusion. “Did he not tell you he loved you?”

“He did, but-”

“And did you not tell him you loved him in return?” he interrupts.

“It all happened so quickly, and I still thought he was a rake, but Yeonjun explained, and I-”

“Y/N, stop. As I said before, Beomgyu has loved you his whole life, he’s never looked at another woman the way he looks at you. Sure, he talks about fencing a little too much, but if that’s the most bothersome thing about him, surely you can find it in your heart to forgive.”

He’s smiling as he states his case, but you can’t find it in you to smile back. Yeonjun had lied to you about Beomgyu being a womanizer, and here Taehyun was corroborating his story. Your childhood best friend had been in love with you his whole life, and you are just now realizing that you might be able to actually be together. 

The music is dying down, and everything clicks into place…you need to find Beomgyu. Your eyes scan the room, but the one person you’re looking for is missing. 

“Taehyun, I have to go, I have to find him!” you exclaim, hurrying away as you hear a faint farewell behind you.

You move as quickly as possible through the crowd, still unable to find the man you’re looking for. Suddenly, you have an idea.

—----------------------------------------------------------

The night air is slightly chilly, a welcome reprieve from dancing as you make your way through the garden, the path illuminated by lantern light.

It’s as if your feet have a mind of their own, carrying you around a corner where you see broad shoulders in the shadow of the large willow tree.

He turns at the sound of your footsteps, a small smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes forming.

“I’ve been looking for you,” you say weakly.

“I thought you were busy dancing with Taehyun.”

“I was, and that’s why I need to talk to you,” you state matter-of-factly.

“Why, so you can tell me it was all a big mistake and you do want to marry him after all?”

As you draw closer to him, you can see his shoulders droop as his smile starts to disappear.

“Beomgyu-” 

You reach towards him and he turns away before your hand meets his cheek.

“Tell me you don’t love me.” His voice is dull and lifeless. “Tell me you want to marry him.”

“As usual, you have no idea what I want.” 

His face turns back to yours, confused. 

“Just say what you want, then!” 

His voice carries through the garden, and you can’t help but smile in response.

Beomgyu’s brow raises in confusion.

“I need to know once and for all, what are your feelings towards me? I want nothing more than to stay by your side always, but if you want me to leave, I will never bother you again.” You can hear the desperation in his voice as he draws closer, seemingly without realizing.

“That’s the thing…I think I want you to bother me for the rest of my life.”

You watch as the realization of what you said dawns on him, his eyes lighting up and a true smile breaking across his face. He starts to respond, but before he can say anything your lips are meeting his. His initial shock fades quickly, and he brings one hand to your waist and the other gently cradles the back of your neck.

You’re not sure how long the kiss lasts, but you feel as if you could stay forever in his embrace, in this moment. It just feels…right.

As the two of you separate, Beomgyu leans his forehead against yours, a wide smile on his face. You look into his eyes and laugh.

“You know, I do love you, but you are going to have to do something about how much you brag about fencing.”

His response is to dive in for another kiss, until you hear someone clearing their throat. You spring apart, only to see Yeonjun holding back laughter on the far side of the clearing.

“Can we at least expect a proposal this time around?”

You glare at your brother, but Beomgyu only laughs, drawing you close.

“If she’ll have me.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @hyungieyoongi, @alpacaparkaseok, @derinxfam

Check out my other work here!

#regency txt #regency beomgyu #writing nook #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu fic #txt fic #txt fluff #txt angst #beomgyu angst

[littlegodzilla]

Chapter 14 is coming!!

Thank you all for the comments, sharing and love that you are giving to this story. Love you like it!

Enjoy this new part!

**************************

Our Story.

Daryl Dixon x Wife / Daryl Dixon x Reader.

Part 14.

Masterlist

Warnings: Slow Burn. TWD Stuff. Fluff. Little jealousy. Sharing feelings. Violence. Blood.

Words: 3600

Summary: Thinks look good but suddenly your pigs start to die and the people is getting sick.

****************

Chapter 14. The beginning of the end.

Rick wakes up early, almost before his watch rings, he locks it and leaves his cell after adjusting his clothes, he still feels a little sleepy when he goes down the stairs to go out of C Block, on his way he discovers his companions changing the shift of surveillance, in the main feeding trough, others are already starting to prepare breakfast, they greet him and offer him a plate with some scrambled bones and some pork, he thanks them and continues on his way. That morning he has chores to do in the garden, since Hershel taught him how to harvest, he doesn't leave the farm area all day. And he still has things to learn.

He stops on his way to look around. The day has dawned sunny and calm, the prison and the people living in it have endured a somewhat stormy few months, they had heavy rains that flooded their main courtyard having to get the animals out of there so they wouldn't drown, they had to refurbish the common areas because of the water, but it was also a stroke of luck to be able to collect that water and filter it for their use. His gaze goes to the main fence, where the dead are still crowding, the strong gusts of wind prevented you from being able to carry out your idea of placing the metal plates on the wire fence, the structure was more flimsy than it seemed, it only resisted the weight of the metal fence and putting one of the plates on it caused it to almost tear an area apart, so you discarded your idea and continued to reinforce the area with large wooden stakes. It was holding for the moment, but the more activity there was in there, the more infected surrounded you from the outside.

Rick shakes his head and makes his way to the farm area to begin the tasks he has pending for the day. He pulls out his music and isolates himself from all the sound on the other side.

A few hours later the activity inside the prison is in full swing, with breakfast ready, people are passing through the dining room to get their plate and sit on the benches with the others before getting down to work, eliminating walkers, exploring the surroundings, checking the traps, both for animals and infected, changing shifts in the watchtowers, and taking care of the maintenance tasks of the prison, taking care of prison maintenance chores, laundry, new food for later, helping on the farm as well, the kids going to the library where you use the few books there to keep them up on the basics, language, math, nature, some history although some thought that wasn't necessary. You knew that Carol gave some after school classes to the kids in self-defense, even though Rick didn't approve, you also believed it was important for the kids to know how to defend themselves and use some weapons, like Sophia and Carl. It was a little secret you had.

"Good morning." Sophia and Carol greet you. She knows what you guys do in the library too, but she'd rather hang out with Carl out there, doing other things.

"Good morning, what are the plans for today?" You greet her by handing her her plate of food. That morning it's your turn to make breakfast.

"Carl is going to help Rick at the farm, they think one of the sows is strange, they are going to keep an eye on her..." she shrugs. "This afternoon I want to go up to the tower to keep watch, so maybe I'll make some new arrows in the meantime."

Sophia has changed since you found her lost in that forest, Carl too, they have become stronger, more independent, they want to participate in the extermination and surveillance activities although you don't always agree, they are still very young and you don't want anything bad to happen to them. Sophia has improved a lot with the bow, learning to make arrows on her own, which makes Carol proud too, she has taught other children and they have formed a small shooting area at the back of the prison, next to the basketball court. You've also noticed that she has started to experience feelings for Carl, who has become her best friend and inside you wish everything was going well for them.

"Good morning, Daryl."

"Daryl, hello."

"Sir, thank you so much for the venison yesterday, sir."

"Good morning, Daryl."

You and Carol raise your heads at the same time discovering that the hunter is approaching towards the dining room with an overwhelmed and confused gesture, he is not used to so many people, nor so many using his name, much less than thanking him for things or complimenting him for simply being him. You can see that his cheeks have a reddish hue to them despite those long locks of hair trying to hide it.

"Good morning, Mr. Dixon." You joke handing him his plate.

"Shut up..." He mumbles putting some food in his mouth.

He may be a hero to those people, but he's certainly still the same clumsy brute he's always been. You chuckle as you watch his eyes narrow.

"What?" he grunts.

"Nothing, how does it feel to have so many admirers?" You tease him and he snorts loudly.

"Exhausting..."

"I remind you that I loved you first." Carol jokes and you smile wider seeing Daryl grimace.

"Dun say that in front of her." He advises her putting another bit of food in his mouth. "She's obsessed with us."

"Oh well, what's wrong with that?" Carol continues to joke pulling a laugh out of you.

"Stop it both of ya." he barks once more, his face completely red.

"Sir? I mean... Daryl, sir... I... hello..." Says a young man approaching him. Patrick is nervous and quiet, he has admiration for the hunter, as many do, but being around him makes him nervous. "I-I just wanted to thank you for coming out every day to hunt and bringing us such good food, sir." He says hesitantly and not daring to look at him. You and Carol bite your tongue as you see Daryl stir uncomfortably. "I-I was wondering if...if I could shake your hand, sir...it would be a great honor..." He continues speaking as he reaches out his hand towards him.

The two of you look at Daryl as expectantly, if not more so, than the young teenager. Daryl twists his mouth into a grimace you can't quite define before he licks his fingers, one by one, and shakes Patrick's hand, tightly, firmly, squeezes his hand in a serious gesture and then releases it. The young man looks ecstatic, looks at him with shining eyes and disappears from there. Daryl is still confused, Carol laughs and you have to admit that you found this gesture on his part sexy. Maybe at another time in your life you would have thought he was a little gross for sucking his fingers like that, that he could have used a napkin, but now you feel your knees shaking and your cheeks burning.

God, how long has it been since you've been with a man for a gesture like that to put you in the state you're in right now?

Since Michael died you haven't been with anyone again, you haven't even thought about sex as such. You're glad there are people who have found their mate, who are having fun like that, you're even excited to think about babies, maybe later, back there in prison, but you hadn't thought about such things. Too busy in your own head, surviving and now you wonder if there will be someone for you. You look up again at Daryl who is still eating what little is left of his plate, again a shiver runs through you and you throat clears.

"Okay, my shift is over here." You shake your hands and set the utensils aside. "I'm going to take a shower and wash off the smell of smoke." Yeah, the shower will do you good.

"I'm gonna go out and check the traps, do ya wanna come?" Daryl proposes you hesitate for a moment.

"Yeah, sure. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Okay, I'll wait for ya at the entrance."

You nod and walk briskly to the pavilion to shower and change clothes to go with him outside.

**************

Your arms tighten around his waist even though he has already stopped the engine. You're still not used to riding his bike, but it's the fastest way to explore the surrounding areas. You climb down from behind his back grabbing your backpack and adjusting your bow as he positions the bike and climbs down as well. Hw retrieves his crossbow to place it on his back and start walking.

There is not much conversation, you are both aware of your surroundings, you cover more and more ground that is harder to keep track of, but it also gives you more security to know that the prison is protected.

"How are you?" you dare to ask after a few minutes in silence.

"How am I what?" he looks at you curiously, a few steps ahead, attentive to his surroundings.

"I don't know, I was just talking about something..." You shrug, glancing sideways at him. "Sometimes it feels weird to have so many people around, doesn't it?"

"A little." He nods without pausing. "But I think it's good, the more of us there are, the better we can defend ourselves." He shakes his body. "But yeah, sometimes there's too much noise around... even out here it's quieter."

"Yeah, it seems ironic." You chuckle and hear him snort too.

"Caleb...is he being nice to ya?" 

He asks the question in a whisper, as if he's embarrassed, you look at him curiously trying to guess what he means, then hum.

"He's patient, he teaches me some things I didn't know, but he's always nice." You reply not quite sure if that's what he wants to hear.

"He's the doctor, but ya've taken care of us before...he doesn't need to teach ya lot of things either."

"Hershel used to help me too, even though he took care of animals he has more experience than me... Is it that you don't trust me now?"

"No, I didn't mean that." He turns sharply. "It's just that ya ask how I feel about so many people and I thought maybe ya weren't comfortable with the doctor..."

"No, Caleb's a good guy, I don't have a problem with him." You shake your head.

You see him nod again and you continue on your way. On the ground you have dug a long trench where you have driven several stakes to slow down the infected, when you look out there are several trapped there. You take the knife and do not hesitate to stick it in their skulls to stop them from making noise and Daryl helps you to get them out of there, burning their bodies shortly after. Up ahead, in the traps you find several rabbits and some birds.

"Not bad." You smile. "Always so efficient, Mr. Dixon." You joke and see him roll his eyes.

"Stop it. What was that earlier?"

"Are you talking about Patrick? He has a lot of admiration for you, I think he'd like to be like you." You tell him and he snorts.

"Nobody wants to be like me. That's silly." He denies again, but you know he's saying it because he's feeling a little overawed by so much flattery and attention.

"Why not? You're a real survivor, you know how to hunt, you know how to fight, you're not afraid to come out here... you're quite the role model."

Daryl watches you silently as you tie the rabbits and put them inside a bag, inside your backpack, he ties the birds he has taken out of the traps without looking away from the small smile on your mouth. You feel goose bumps on the back of your neck. He walks up to you, his hand holds your arm for a moment, you turn to look at him, you frown slightly at the frown on his face, he seems to be thinking something intensely, but unable to express it.

"Are you okay?" You ask him a little startled.

"Yes, 's nothing; let's go back." He lets go of you, and starts walking again.

************

"What's wrong with her?" You ask Rick, back at the farm, watching one of the pigs in agony.

After returning with the dams along with Daryl, you've decided to go down to the orchard to help Rick with the vegetables and animals, Carl thanks you and turns back inside the pavilion looking for Sophia.

"I don't know... I think she's sick..."

"Hershel hasn't told you anything?" The former sheriff shakes his head. "And we're just going to leave it there suffering?"

"I didn't want to kill her, Carl named her... but if she's sick she could infect the others... or us."

"You want me to help you get her out of there?"

Between the two of you you enter the corral where the pig is lying on the mud, it is breathing with difficulty, it is evident that there is something wrong with it. When you touch it the animal complains, it wants to move, but is unable to, you look at Rick and he helps you, between the two of you push the sow with all your strength. You have to admit that at the beginning of the day you expected to end up with mud up to your ears, but that animal is huge and moving it is a challenge, especially because it is distressed and in pain. When you manage to get it out of the mud, you lift it onto a platform to drag it out of the area, your idea is to get it out of the enclosure, take it to where you usually burn the Walkers and leave it there as a bait.

"Do you think we should burn her? In case she has a disease..." You glance sideways at Rick as you arrive at the site. The poor animal has died along the way.

"Are you afraid they might catch it?" He jokes in a tired voice due to the effort of pushing the platform.

"No, I don't think that's possible... is it?" Rick smiles amused and gives you a gentle pat on the back, picking up the platform again. "Let's go back."

When you get back to the prison, you say goodbye to Rick for the day, you need to get back to the showers to get all the mud off you, also all the contact you had with the animal to avoid any contagion, if it was sick. You go into your cell to get some clean clothes before going to shower, leave your backpack under your bed and come out. You get rid of the dirty clothes and get under the water. It never comes out particularly hot, so you scrub your skin quickly to finish as soon as possible.

"Fuck..." You gasp feeling yourself shiver. You dry off and change your clothes getting out of the showers to go to your cell.

You hear a rattling around you. You stand in place looking around you. You frown slightly, if someone has come in to watch you shower, you will kill them, no questions asked. You hold your breath to sharpen your hearing, but there is no more movement, so you hurry and head back towards the block.

The day has been too long, you feel tired, exhausted, your body weighs a ton. You climb the stairs to your cell discovering Daryl in the upper hallway, leaning on the railing.

"Good night, Daryl." You say to him with a sleepy smile.

"Goodnight, babygirl." He replies as you enter your cell.

When he sees you pull back the curtain to your room, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair feeling his pants tighten. It was an accident. He went into the bathroom to clear his head a bit, it was starting to get especially hot inside the cellblock and he wanted to cool off after spending all day killing walkers on the fence. He didn't even realize there was anyone there until he was already in front of the sinks and wet his face. The sound of water from one of the showers put him on alert, turning around. He knew he had to get out of there, hurry up and give privacy to whoever was there.

"Fuck..."

Hearing your voice made him freeze right there. Swallowing nervously his feet moved with a will of their own to peek out towards the shower you were using. It was only an instant, he's sure he didn't even have time to blink, but it was enough for him to imprint the signature of your body in his mind, the water falling on it as you rubbed your skin. He tries to hurry away when you stopped the water, but he stumbled catching your attention, be thankful you didn't have time to spot him there or he wouldn't have had any excuse to stare at you like an idiot.

He grunts and shakes his head, turning away from the railing he goes down the stairs and leaves Block C heading towards one of the towers, that night he will be on guard, he needs to think. He knows he won't be able to sleep a wink all night and prefers to do something useful.

****************

You hear screams, gunshots, screams full of panic.

You open your eyes in panic, jump up in bed and look around, trying to understand what's going on. But the screams are not coming from your ward, but rather from the whole building in general, people seem really scared although you don't know why. You quickly get out of your cell grabbing your weapons. You see everyone running from one side to the other, without explanation, some are covered in blood, others wielding their weapons, children are running for shelter.

"What's going on!" You shout to Karen when you see her appear.

"Infected!" She shouts back. "They've broken into the prison, D block is turning!"

"What!" You don't credit what you hear but run after her to help.

The entire pavilion is full of dead, converted and victims of the infected, the floors are covered with blood, bodies that will soon rise again. You do not understand what could have happened, but you immediately get to work. Your knives sink into the skulls of all those who have not yet been converted and those who have already begun to transform.

"It's Patrick..." You gasp as you find the young man's body lying on the ground.

He looks horrible, not just because he has been turned, there is something about him that is different, strange. With trembling hands you bend down and check his condition. Patrick was dead, he turned because he had died, he hadn't been bitten before. He was the cause of it all.

"We heard him coughing last night and then he went all the way to the showers..." Says a colleague who has managed to survive. "I thought he would be better, we didn't hear him come back..."

"He was sick..." You understand and bite your lip. "I need to talk to Caleb and Hershel."

"We'll get the bodies out of here." Rick says. "We'll bury them all. Come on."

You don't think that's a good idea, if they're sick maybe the most appropriate thing to do would be to take the bodies out of the whole compound and burn them like you do with the Walkers, but you don't want to say anything about it. You hear some people start coughing and that puts you on alert.

"Don't leave the pavilion until we know what's going on. If it's a disease we have to stop it from spreading." Rick speaks again and people seem to agree.

"I'll get the bodies out." Daryl says.

"Wear a mask and gloves, don't have any contact with the bodies." Hershel asks him and he nods.

You all leave the ward, you've been exposed so you stay on one side of the main area, you don't want to infect anyone by mistake, until you have symptoms it's for the best.

"What do you think it could be?" asks Maggie.

"Rick and I pulled one of the pigs from the farm yesterday..... It was in agony...it's possible that's the cause." You look at the others.

"Why didn't we all catch it?"

"Sometimes it all depends on the people, on their organism... but we will need medication to treat those who are worse." Hershel speaks again. "The most advisable thing to do is to isolate the ward, to keep the people who are sick there."

"In the infirmary there may still be something left, I'll make a list of everything we need." You say and head there quickly.

"I'll form a group and we'll go get everything." Daryl offers. "I'll take people who haven't been exposed to avoid risk."

"Good, let's hurry, this could spread faster than we expect."

It's telling and people start dropping like flies. The entire D block is isolated, not letting people out of there to avoid further contagion. There was heavy coughing, congestion that turned to blood if the disease spread quickly. With what little you have left, before Daryl and his group goes out to patrol, you begin to treat all the people, you help Caleb checking all those who do not seem to have very serious symptoms, those who are in more advanced stages are sent directly to the ward so that there is no further exposure.

****************

.

To be Continued...

.

.

Hope you liked it!

See you in the next chapters!!

.

Taglist: @green-eyedladywrites @minervadashwood @livingdeadblondequeen @bringinsexybackk69 @phoenixblack89

#my stuff #norman reedus #normanreedus #mine #daryl dixon #daryldixon #twd fanfiction #series #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x wife #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x you #daryl x female reader #daryl x wife #daryl x reader #drama #angst #romance #love #slow burn #friends to lovers #eventual smut #fluff

[koalas-koalas-everywhere]

Regarding the whole "you can't change things from the inside, it must all be dismantled" thing going around. (And ignoring, for a second, how Crowley never said the second part and just wants to run away, since I think that getting rid of Heaven and Hell in some capacity or the other is the way that the show is going so we should have this conversation.)

Noah fence, but the reason that "dismantle the police" is even a possibility for us is that 1) "blue lives" is a (tasteless) metaphor; cops are human beings, not part of their own race, at whichever level you'd like the concept to be working and 2) we have other institutions working at similar and higher levels. We have the state which could, in theory, carry out the dismantling, and psychologists, firemen, technology, etc, who can carry ensure people's safety better than cops. That's kinda the point: there is some necessary work being done by cops, at least in theory, in the ideal way that they should be working, so they don't just need to be destroyed, they need to be replaced.

There's no easy 1:1 translation for this with Heaven and Hell because they aren't just the coppers and the robbers, even if that's the role they play. It's the name of the spaces either one or two species (depending on how you want to look at it - two, or only one divided by their allergies?), distinct from humans, live, and (this is key) the collective designation for these species. So what does it mean to "dismantle" them?

First of all, how? How could Aziraphale and Crowley achieve this? The only possible higher authority they could appeal to, in the way we try to appeal to the state, is God and like. ??. Not only would it be unlikely, it would be contrary to the story and I'll get back to this. The only way they could do it would be by gaining authority over the other angels and demons or by reaching a consensus between all of them.

There's arguably no need for a replacement because they don't have a purpose other than the one they imagined for themselves, their point is not their roles, but their existence, which they've chosen to tie to roles, but that leads us to a bigger problem. As living beings, they have as much of a right to exist as any of us. Maybe, even, to exist on earth. A scenario where they all die or even become human would be akin to genocide.

The only other possible solution I can think of might be to lock them all up in their respective headquarters, spn style. But then, what happens to the Muriels? Those that work within their institutions mostly because they don't know better? A category which, as proven by Gabriel, could be shared even by the people at the top. (Something I believe people would have a resistance to: cult higher echelons may be just as brainwashed as the lower echelons, making them both victims and abusers.) Do they not deserve a chance to learn better? Everyone agrees that H&H are not just dangerous to humanity, but toxic among themselves. Do they not deserve a chance to step out and grow? How would that be achieved in this scenario? C&A controlling who can enter earth? I can see some practical problems with this. They're not omniscient, they can't know how honest people are or what the result of them being let out of H&H will be - Crowley won't want to let anyone out, Aziraphale will want to allow everyone.

I guess it's the best outcome we can expect out of this show. (Re: H&H, yes, A&C will end up together, that will be nice, this is not about that.)

I think, however, that it lacks a certain optimism that this show has characterized itself by, especially when you compare it to the book. Not only are the characters generally more lovable, the message in general is more... bright? For starters, look at the Them. In the book, it was a lot clearer that they were not foils, but mirrors to the Horsemen. The Pollution boy was known for leaving wrappers lying around, Pepper was the actual Head Torturer, there was no "I believe in peace, bitch". What I got from it was, "yes, we, the future generations, might bring about the end of the world, but it's important that it's up to us, not some higher power, because the world belongs to humans now, so move over". In the show, the scene has more of a "the children, however weird, are the future". C&A's break from H&H: in the book, it was a lot more... not ambiguous, because that would imply that they might not have actually left them, but, without those attempted executions, it felt a lot more unfinished. Sure, they slipped out that time, but other attempts to bring about Armageddon would happen and they'd have to be vigilant (cold war, anyone?). That's not even getting into how much less of a focus their relationship was, so they looked a lot more at loose ends. With the execution attempts in the show, we got not just some satisfying retribution/victory of C&A over H&H, and so a sense of closure, we also got a bit of security. It would've been, all in all, a happy ending. (Yes, there were many things that shippers would have to take as stated, but even then they ended up on their own side.)

Ok, I'm gonna be honest with you chief, the more I think about this, the more the whole "lock everyone up" thing starts to make sense to me, especially taking into account the Them v Horsemen scene I just described. Get rid of the angels and the demons, humanity can save or damn itself without any help. Like, I think I just changed my own mind by writing this up.

Still, what's the point of introducing Muriel or having Gabriel and Beelzebub abscond together if not to show that H&H aren't some irredeemable homogeneous monoliths? And how can you really justify not giving them a chance to change? So, even if I'm more and more convinced by the spn lock up arc by the minute, I'm sticking to my reforming H&H point as the most hopeful ending. And here's the thing. Aziraphale is probably going in with too much optimism, along with the misguided belief that he can change Heaven just because he's in charge. (Also, the misguided belief that he'll be really in charge.) However, I don't think his idea is completely wrong, or his method totally wrong.

How can we expect any proper restructuring of H&H, which, without any higher authority, would require some consensus from everyone, to happen from anywhere but the inside?

#good omens #am I metaing yet? #good omens season 2 #Aziraphale #Crowley #I think it will be a bit like season 1 actually. Did A's plan of trusting Heaven work? No. But if they'd gone with C's idea of running away #the earth might've been destroyed. So is A correct now? No but it will probably get them into position to actually fix things #long post

[the-fae-folk]

What happens to humans who are spirited away to the Faerie realm?

Spirited away? What an interesting phrase. There are three main methods humans have of entering the realm of Faerie. The First, and most unlikely, is that the human knows a direct path, gate, or postern of some kind that will grant them entry into that entirely different world, to cross the boundary into the beyond with full intention and knowledge of what they will find there. They know the dangers, they understand the risk, and yet they will follow their own road, making their own choices. The Second method is accidental. A person wandering in a place where the separation between worlds is thin, and the conditions for crossing are right. Most often they simply wander through, never even noticing something is wrong until it's far too late to turn back, never realizing that somehow they've gone astray until the familiar has twisted into the strange and unknown before their very eyes. An ordinary forest behind their house quietly gives way to a forest with much bigger trees, stranger creatures, and is much much more ancient than anything that should be able to exist still on earth. Or an alleyway you slip down to hide from the cops you know will invent a reason to arrest you because you're black; if the alleyway is covered with vines creeping over an old wood fence, if it becomes dark and hard to see, with the grime under your feet silently changing from pavement and cement into earth rich and green, you might not notice it until you step out from the old ruin of a faerie dwelling and into the light beyond. Stepping from one world to another can be swift, seamless, and easier than crossing a stream of water. Yet sometimes it isn't so easy. It could take many coincidences and pure chance to open a way. Patterns, rituals, stories. These are elements of magic, the persuaders of perception, the interpreters of reality. Much is tied to such things, whether we recognize it or not. Our morning ablutions are a ritual, so is the song and dance a person might play if they work in retail, and so too is the choices of entertainment we make. Ritual and pattern, choices to create reasons, reasons to make choices, and the inability to see when we are caught in a ritual we cannot easily escape. Some stories we tell ourselves, or write in books to tell others long after ourselves, show glimpses of these rituals and patterns, the way we think, the way we understand, the way we create. And sometimes those patterns and rituals will lead us to other worlds, often by mistake, tracing the path unintentionally by fulfilling necessary requirements. Touching certain stones in a certain pattern, filling a certain fountain with water from a certain spring, saying the correct words in the correct order. Coincidences, but not impossible ones, just very unlikely. Yet the unlikely happens more than you could ever imagine.

The Third method for humans to enter Faerie is the one you so whimsically name as being "spirited away". Many humans who come this way would agree with you, it certainly feels as if one is spirited away. But I would call it another name, one with fewer positive connotations. Abduction, kidnapping. Whether they are tricked, or lured past a border. Whether they come of their own will because of false promises and the secret intentions of others. If they are threatened or their loved ones are threatened. If they are simply taken, directly and against their will. These are ways in which they could enter into Faerie. It is, tragically, the most common way to reach Faerie. But your question of what happens to them? Many things happen. Each dependent on the reasons and nature of the Fae being who brings a human into a world apart. Sometimes the intentions are for good reasons, though those can often cause just as much pain as cruelty if you're not careful. But far more likely the intentions are not kind, and do not have anything but maleficent intent. Humans are taken and forced to act as distractions, toys, playthings. They are dressed in fancy clothing, paraded about in front of everyone, and then left in an empty room and forgotten about. They are not seen as people, they are seen as pets, and some are not even afforded that luxury, but are seen as things. Objects to possess, but not anything remotely resembling a person. Other humans are given a less glittering cage, put to work and told directly that they have been enslaved. Even here the language used is tricky. "Seven years and a day" and "You agreed to our deal, now you must hold up your end of the bargain" or " Can't break your word, that would have consequences". Child, the Fae are beings who have had time out of human comprehension to reflect and study the nature of words and meaning. To manipulate, to hide, to pretend... it is second nature to them. They can do it without even a single lie, deceiving you through your own creation of meaning. Every word your captors would say to you in order to convince you that you have an obligation to be there, that you must work for them, that you got yourself into this, that you had free will and choice in the matter... every word is meant to draw you deeper into their deception while still being the truth. They will tell you this, if you ask, and laugh at your expression. What fun their little game. And even when you know the rules, you can't stop playing. You can't leave. You can't break the bargain. Because the truth is what it always was, you never had a real choice to begin with. Even the choices you were offered were those given by the faerie luring you to your doom, options between one bad choice and another. Some rare and lucky few have fought for a different fate. Through the kindness of others and their own inner strength, as well as luck so incredibly unlikely that it's almost its own kind of magic, they managed to create a different way of living with the Folk. These folk live many different lives. Some travel and live with courts, others have found the parents they always needed, some have gained the respect of the fae they knew, others have shown incredible wit and cleverness in somehow tricking the tricksters, and some very very few have somehow managed to find real love and friendship among the Folk.

But these lives, though glamorous, are in no way easy. They are filled with danger at every turn, with disaster and heartbreak and the strain of living in a world and with a people that are not made for humans, that barely even understand what it means to be a human or a mortal in general. Our human world is filled with so much darkness and strife, so much so that many would find the idea of living in another world enticing. I too have felt that, I too dream of seeing something wondrous and strange, something otherworldly and magical. But a life lived in Faerie, especially if you had no real choice in that life, is hardly a life at all. It would be a battle every moment of every day, a fight to maintain anything of yourself or your will, anything of you at all. A fight to survive, a fight to even exist as anything with agency, as a person. We fight many such battles here today, in our very human world, and yet there are moments of rest, moments where we can draw a breath and pause to gather our strength and remember ourselves. No such rests exist for us there, where everything and everyone is alien, where even their culture and way of thinking is so unlike ours. Even though there is much they imitate, and much we share, it would be a struggle that few could truly imagine to break past the differences that would assault you at every turn. Many die. Are killed or simply give up the will to live. Another casualty of Faerie, the land of the deathless, where death waits patiently for those who do not belong. Some go utterly mad, losing their sanity to an untold number of things. Eldritch beings or things their minds cannot cope with, the trauma of cruelty or horrific conditions, or even the inability to tell after a time what is real and what is illusory or imaginary. Some escape, with or without their minds, and a lucky few manage to stay away till the end of their lives, while others are drawn or lured back in. And a few grow. When they faced the horrors of the unknown they simply... would not break. No matter how much pressure or stress, no matter the moral quandaries or the abuse or the fear, they simply would not, could not, be broken. This inner strength shows itself in the most unexpected of people, people you often think would be the easiest to break. If at last it shows itself in a person, they grow, they grow and they will not stop growing. Taking in everything, and telling it that it must serve for their self betterment whether it wants to or not. True, they might die or be killed, they might never escape captivity, but they have what many others never do. They have free will, they have their self that they themselves created. It is... a bright star in a dark and endless sky.

#fae #faerie #otherfolk #otherworld #life in faerie #cruelty #fae abduction

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Save fae-ce

Part 2/3

Summary: Tim gets used to his future faerie family.

Pt 1

Hey, in all technicality, Tim kept his word.

He had said that he wouldn’t disappear like that. And he wasn’t intending on spending another two weeks passed out in the arms of a nameless faerie. He just wanted food. He had tried to eat something, if only for Bernard’s sake, and he could, but the food had settled strangely in his stomach and he’d been very tempted to throw it all up by the time he had cleared his plate. So, yeah, the faerie were right in that he would need to eat fae food for the rest of his life. Not starving to death was very important to him. And, honestly, he was pretty sure that if he waited another day he wouldn’t even have the energy to go to the clearing.

So, he crawled under the hole in the fence and made his way into the forest.

Once again, it didn’t take long to get where he wanted to go. He wasn’t sure whether the forest was responding to his wishes now that he was fair folk, or if one of his new powers as a fae was the ability to always know where he was going, but he supposed that it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that his goal was achieved:

He found Orphan sitting on the swing, just barely swaying back and forth, apparently just wanting something to do while she waited. This time, she was wearing a mask over the bottom half of her face. It… didn’t do much to hide the thoughts playing plainly across her features. She was worried, the tiny furrowing of her brows made that more than obvious, though he couldn’t imagine why.

The moment her eyes landed on him, though, she relaxed.

“I forgot time works differently here,” the faerie said, and their voice was one he didn’t recognize. Deeper, ringing with something that wasn’t quite right. “Your world moves much faster than ours. You will have to eat more often to make up for it.”

Okay, he had definitely made the right decision in agreeing to take food from them. He was probably selling himself off to the fae accidentally, but he would have definitely starved if he hadn’t.

She motioned to a basket at her feet. He hadn’t noticed it before, but that was quite possibly because he wasn’t all that observant. “You should eat some, here, before you go. For energy.”

Tim hesitated, glancing up even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to gauge the time. He didn’t want Bernard to get suspicious, but he didn’t have that many options.

He was weirdly tired.

“Sure, we can have a picnic or whatever.”

Their eyes lit up and they clapped their hands twice. A red and white checkered blanket appeared on the grass, looking like a picturesque scene worthy of being on the cover of a book. The changeling took a seat, and Tim hesitated for just a moment. He wasn’t really sure why, the faerie had been nothing but kind to him since he’d accidentally thrust himself into their lives via a very unfortunate snack, but he still eyed her with a kind of wariness that should be reserved only for known criminals – and, even then, should be used sparingly, for people can change.

But then she, either unconcerned about or simply unaware of his distrust, opened up the flaps of the basket without a care in the world. And the smell wafted over to him.

He decided that, if she was going to go through the effort of bringing him food all the time, then he could at least place a tentative amount of trust in them.

Not smart, perhaps, but he was hungry, okay?

So, he took a seat next to them and started digging through the basket for things to eat. The selection was wide, enough so that he suspected that the basket had some kind of enchantment that allowed it to hold more things.

If he had magic now, he was totally going to make it his main priority to learn that spell specifically.

It wasn’t until he heard a strange laugh beside him that he thought to look up, a slice of buttered bread half hanging from his lips, to see Orphan holding a hand to her mouth as if attempting to hide her amusement. Which wasn’t necessary. They were wearing a mask.

A flush spreading over his cheeks, he sheepishly offered them the bundle of grapes he had been about to scarf down.

“Thank you,” she said politely.

He grimaced a little at the use of his own voice. It was… weird. He didn’t think he had a particularly unpleasant voice or anything, but it was strange. It didn’t sound like how he thought he sounded, and yet he registered that the voice they were using was his own, and this made him scrunch his nose in distaste.

He hesitated, glancing to the side. “So… you mimic the last voice you heard?”

She nodded, and some of the glee bled out of her expression. “You don’t like it.”

Tim opened his mouth to argue otherwise, but his voice died in his throat. He couldn’t lie. Damn it. He took another bite, giving himself time to chew on his thoughts while he also chewed on the bread. “I… think it’s strange,” he admitted after a while, lamely. But he was quick to tack on the words: “I’ll get used to it.”

She hesitated, before flashing a slightly unsure thumbs up.

He nodded back, unsure if there was anything else he could really do.

They pulled their mask down, and he watched as she popped a grape in her mouth. He half expected them to swallow it like a pill, or perhaps for her mouth to unhinge while they ate, but this wasn’t the case. It was… normal. She was normal.

Or, at least, made to seem like she was.

He wasn’t sure whether he was asking because he wanted to remind himself that they were not normal despite their appearances, or because he just wanted to know what to expect when he got to their realm, or some strange mix of the two, but he found himself asking before he could really stop himself:

“You’re a Changeling, right?”

They gave him a raised eyebrow, but nodded.

No going back now.

“How does that all… work? Like, what else is there?”

She blinked once, and then laughed.

“Well, there are these things called ‘True Fae’. These people are born fae. They’re pretty rare, since two faerie have to decide to create and take care of a child together. And it’s really draining, and takes a whole formal thing, and requires two True Fae to even make one, so no one ever bothers.”

Tim frowned.

“Don’t worry, though, no one cares,” she was quick to soothe him, and so accurate that he wondered if they could read minds. “It’s a formality thing. Only matters if you’re super important, and even then not really. Our family doesn’t have any True Fae outside of Dad and – I think – Grandpa.”

He nodded slowly, trying not to let his relief show.

“Changelings are born fae but also made. We’re… humans, but not.”

His eyebrows knit together. “How does that work?”

All he got was a shrug of their shoulders. “In between. We’re mostly faeries, I guess, but we’re also made to live with humans, so we have some human stuff, too. It’s weird.”

“I think all of this stuff is weird,” he blurted, only to cringe.

Thankfully, she only laughed and nodded her agreement.

“There are also Stolen Children, which is what you are, technically. Basically, it’s the humans we fae stumble across and decide to steal away.” Their eyebrows tugged upwards in the middle in a kind of pitying look. “Or the ones that eat our food on accident.”

He hummed his understanding, his eyes falling to the food that sat in his hand, looking oh-so-innocent.

She leaned back on one hand, the other waving vaguely as she explained, “Those are the three main types. There are a bunch of different powers and stuff like that. It’s all fake, though. No two fae are even close to each other.”

He hesitated.

“Tell me about it?”

They lit up.

And, by the time he had finished eating and they had finished explaining, he didn’t find the use of his voice quite as weird.

~

Bernard was bleeding.

It was a tiny cut on his hand, made while he was chopping vegetables for a stew Tim wouldn’t actually enjoy. It would be easy to bandage up again, and yet the blood spilling from the wound made his skin crawl.

Leaving, for a second, just to get something to tie around the cut, was more relieving than it should have been. It was like that moment after you come out of the water, breaching the surface and finally allowing air into your lungs again once more.

Which didn’t make sense. He had never been squeamish around blood before. He didn’t like it, mind you, he would much rather avoid the stuff. He would say that he could live without it, but he couldn’t, really… you get the point. Blood is gross, but he had never felt so tense around it before. Especially not for something as small as a simple flesh wound.

And he remembered that blood had iron in it.

He paused.

He gripped the strip of fabric more tightly in his hand.

Well, screw the fae magic and its dumb rules. His friend was hurt, however fractionally, and he was going to fix this.

He would just be careful about it. Because he wasn’t sure how he would explain away flinching away from blood as if it had burned him (which it would). But he was going to help Bernard.

And, if Bernard noticed that Tim went more carefully than he usually did as he tied the small bit of cloth around his finger, then he didn’t say a word. Just smiled and thanked him for helping.

~

“You forgot water,” Tim pointed out, flatly.

Robin’s face didn’t redden, but his wings fluffed up and that gave him away instantly. “I didn’t think of it! I was thinking about food, not drinks! Anyone could make that mistake!”

“Orphan didn’t,” he pointed out. Mostly just to be annoying. To be honest, Tim probably wouldn’t have thought of it either if Orphan hadn’t.

Maybe Tim should have been more wary of pissing off the faerie, but it was hard to be scared of someone that was pouting up a storm.

As if to prove his point, Robin groaned and flopped onto the ground in a heap. “Dad,” they complained to no one. “Come here, will you? The new kid needs water.”

There was no indication that this ‘Dad’ figure even heard, but Robin brightened up like he had gotten a response.

They hopped to their feet and pointed to the chessboard. “I don’t think Lil Wing will mind too too much, so, do you want to play a game while we wait?”

Tim wasn’t sure why this ‘Lil Wing’ person would care about an abandoned chess set, but he was quickly learning not to question anything.

He nodded.

And, so, they played a couple of rounds of chess. Tim had a strong suspicion that Robin was letting him win. Mostly because Robin was acting like he didn’t know how any of the pieces worked, constantly asking for refreshers on the rules, but had noticed instantly when Tim had accidentally moved his knight just one square too far forward.

But, hey, he liked winning.

Besides, though he would never admit it aloud, Robin was fun to hang around. He didn’t seem to take anything all that seriously, and that was a balm for the constantly anxious Tim’s jittery soul.

This was probably why, when a large man with even larger bat wings appeared in the faerie circle in the middle of the clearing, Tim had instantly moved to hide behind Robin.

Robin didn’t even hesitate to throw their wings out, wrapping one around him and tucking him into their side, completely shielding Tim from view.

“Dad,” he said and, despite the fact that he was currently ‘protecting’ him from the ‘threat’, he seemed perfectly happy to talk to his father. “Do you have the water?”

Tim peeked around some of the feathers to see.

The man nodded slightly, his eyes wide. Clearly, he was just as shocked as Tim was that Robin was doing this. Or, maybe, he was shocked about something Tim had done, though he couldn’t imagine why.

And then a soft smile came over his face. “Of course,” it said, and Tim recognized the voice despite the fact that he had never before met this faerie. Had heard the tone that rang with something just a little bit more than ‘normal’.

He had heard it on Orphan, every time they came to the clearing. The last person she talked to before coming to this world with food.

Going by that and the fact that Robin was calling for the faerie’s help with the water issue, it was safe to assume that this was the person who was getting the food for Tim, even if it was done through more familiar faces.

Something in him relaxed, if only slightly. The faerie could have easily poisoned him by now if he wished for Tim to come to any harm, Tim was probably safe.

Probably. He was going to remain in hiding, though, just in case. He pressed a little bit closer to Robin, and a chin came to rest atop his head.

“Here,” it said, setting a rather large jug of water on the ground. They sent Tim a tiny wave. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks, Dad!”

As quickly as it had appeared, the dim light of the clearing warped and the faerie was gone.

Leaving Tim clinging to Robin, his face flushed. He appreciated the protection quite a lot. Tim had had nothing to fear, Robin knew that, and it would have been all-too-easy to simply push Tim out and force him to learn this for himself, like a bird being flung out of a nest to learn to fly… but he hadn’t. He had simply tucked him into his side, because he was scared, and let him find out from the safety of his wings.

It was sweet. A little embarrassing for Tim, but sweet nonetheless.

Robin smiled and pulled back. A finger remained, loosely, curled in the fae’s shirt, and he didn’t want to let go quite yet. Robin was warm, and had been nice to him, and Tim was quite possibly still a little rattled by the sudden introduction of someone he hadn’t known in the slightest.

For a brief moment, Robin eyed the hand still touching him. Not wary or annoyed, simply curious. Slowly, his gaze trailed up to the horns on Tim’s head, not hidden by his beanie while he was in the safety of the clearing. Something like recognition sparkled in their eyes, and they made a quiet sound in the back of their throat that Tim couldn’t quite interpret.

It must have been a good sound, though, because Robin was quick to rest his arm over Tim’s shoulder, tugging him into his side.

“I can help you carry all this to the edge of the trees, if you want.”

Tim nodded wordlessly.

~

Tim and Bernard stumbled through the streets, their arms loaded with books, giggling and trying to trip each other as their feet scrabbled over the cobblestone beneath them. The town was having a festival today – though, perhaps, calling it a ‘festival’ was a bit of an overstatement. Some traveling merchants had decided to set up a couple of stalls in the town square.

Of course, this meant that Bernard needed new tales. More books on the fae.

And some books on werewolves, on vampires, on shifters, and dragons, and sprites and –.

Tim was going to fall, the books were heavy and he was running and if he slowed down at all the carefully constructed pile in his arms was going to come crashing down.

And then he tripped. He toppled over, the books already spilling out of his arms.

But he didn’t trip at all.

Instead, for just a second, he hovered. The air that should have been wooshing past him went unnervingly still, and gravity released its hold on him. He was able to fix his footing, even if his next steps were a bit rougher than usual. The books still went crashing over the stones, there was nothing he could do about that, but he didn’t fall.

It didn’t last much longer than a second. But it was still unmistakable what had happened. That… had been magic.

He had thought it would be something more… weighty. Flashy. Maybe it could be. Maybe it would be, once he had eaten enough fae food to fully change.

It was still enough to make him pause.

For a second.

Then Bernard whirled around, trying to look over, either to laugh at him or to pout over the bends and scuff marks that might decorate the pages now, only to trip himself. And he didn’t have any magic of his own, so he went up in a flurry of papers.

There is a long pause as the two boys stared at each other with wide eyes.

And then they both burst into fits of laughter.

Tim laughed so hard that he ended up falling to the ground beside his friend anyways. It wasn’t that funny, not really, but who cares? They were enjoying themselves, they were kids, and that was enough.

Eventually, they got back to their feet and gathered their things.

They sprinted back, not learning a single lesson from their earlier mistake.

Bernard faceplanted in a patch of grass. Tim wanted to capture the moment, keep it forever. He wanted nothing more than for every day to be like this, the two of them just having fun and enjoying each other’s company.

Also because the look on Bernard’s face when he realized he was going to fall had been hilarious.

~

“You don’t have to keep me, you know,” Tim said, his voice quiet, his eyes trained on the basket in his hands. “I know this is all really inconvenient for you guys – making you come here all the time to bring me food and stuff – and I think I could survive on my own once I figure out how to get in and out of the fae realm without help. I’ll be fine, you don’t have to do all this.”

B looked shell-shocked. Not unlike the first day that Tim had seen him. Tim had gotten better at dealing with the fae’s unsettling appearance (it was beautiful, in a strange way, but that didn’t stop it from being creepy, too), but it seemed like it was less used to him and his quirks.

There was a moment where the being hesitated.

And then a hand came to rest upon his shoulder, pressing until Tim looked them in the eyes.

“Just because I didn’t ‘choose’ you like I did the others, does not mean I am less happy about you being in my life. I will happily take you in, once all of us are ready.”

And he can’t lie, Tim knows that better than anyone. But he also knows just how easy it is to omit things.

“You want me?” Tim asked, trying to smother all of the hope threatening to bubble out of him.

The fae’s face softens. “Of course.”

Tim didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to get any words out, anyways.

So, he just nodded and brought his hands up to wipe at teary eyes.

It was nice to be wanted.

~

Bernard poked his head in through the window, and something in Tim made him almost physically recoil at the intrusion. It was normal, it was Bernard, but there was something about his friend entering the house without his permission, even marginally, that rattled something in the back of his brain.

He brushed it off, though. Because Bernard was smiling at him, his arms resting on the sill and his chin atop those, and he was always welcome.

“Hi,” Bernard said. His hair gleamed like gold in the sunlight.

“You look like you’re up to no good,” Tim commented mildly.

He ate an apple slice, trying not to cringe at how it tasted like ash in his mouth. The rest of the apple lay hidden in a cupboard, to be thrown into the woods to become compost sometime late that night but, for now, he had to make Bernard think that he was eating human food regularly.

“I’ve never been up to ‘no good’ in my life.”

“That sentence is wrong in so many ways, but especially grammatically.”

“I disagree.”

“You can’t just –.” Tim started, only to decide that he didn’t really want to finish it. This was fine. Maybe he was wrong, and even if he wasn’t this really wasn’t the hill he cared enough to die on. “Whatever. What are we doing today?”

“I was thinking we could go shopping,” Bernard said. “I think my pants are getting too short.”

And why would Tim ever deny him?

So, they went out looking for new clothes. The town got almost all of its clothes from a local tailor, who, surprise surprise, tailor-made everything for them. Bernard really didn’t need Tim to come, and Tim wasn’t all that interested in watching an old lady mess with a tape measure and rattle off numbers. But they went together regardless.

Tim browsed while he waited. Most of the things left out were samples, and he liked running his fingers over the rough textures (it wasn’t worth using actually good fabric just to show off styles), but his eyes were trained on the few things that were actually for sale. They were all things that could be a little large without much problem, like coats, cloaks, scarves, and hats.

He hummed as he looked over the coats. He’d been getting cold more often than usual, he had noticed, so it would probably be a good idea to grab one…

He pulled one out and nodded to himself. He could already tell, even without trying it on, that it was going to be big on him, but this was fine. He would grow into it. Probably.

That problem definitely solved, he continued on to the hat section. The beanie Orphan had given him was working just fine, but he should probably get something else. If his horns ever grew – which didn’t seem likely, considering they hadn’t since they had appeared, but he wasn’t sure he should bank on that – the beanie wouldn’t be able to hide their shape, and he’d be screwed.

And yet…

“Getting a new hat?” Bernard asked, his chin coming to rest on Tim’s shoulder.

“I was thinking about it,” Tim said quietly, picking up a hat, peering down at it thoughtfully. The one Orphan had given him looked less… real, with too perfect stitches in the fabric and not a single loose thread to be seen. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find out it had popped into existence simply because that was what Orphan had wanted. The one in his hands looked more cared for, as if someone had slaved over it for days, with little imperfections to match. He, objectively, liked the one he had picked up more… but he didn’t want to give up the hat he had been given. It was his. So, he twisted to shove the new hat atop his friend’s head, instead. “I think it’ll look better on you, though.”

Bernard laughed as the hat slipped a little, just slightly too large, and brought his hands up to push the brim up so he could see. He grinned at Tim, batting his eyelashes. “Well, everything looks better on me.”

“True,” Tim hummed.

Bernard’s face flushed a pretty shade of red. He dragged the hat back down to try and cover it, but Tim had already seen.

“I guess I might as well get a hat,” Bernard mumbled. “Since I’m here and all.”

Tim beamed.

~

Tim stared at the door to Bernard’s house. Bernard’s hands were full, carrying the food he wanted to cook that night. Tim had tried to hold it, but Bernard was selfless, a good friend, and so he hadn’t allowed Tim to carry any of it. Tim had tried saying that Bernard was the one to cook, so he should at least carry the ingredients, but Bernard had said that Tim never ate much of it, anyway.

He was… a lot more observant than Tim had ever given him credit for.

To be fair, though, Tim had never had anything to hide until now.

Which was why this was particularly difficult. Bernard would notice if Tim didn’t go striding through the door, it had never bothered him before this. But he couldn’t do that anymore.

He needed to either get verbal consent or get Bernard to hold the door open for him. Either would count. Unfortunately, Bernard’s hands were full and Tim’s were not, so he would be expected to 

He thought hard, his feet trudging their way forward, hoping to come to a solution

But what could he say? Bernard’s parents weren’t home, they should be at work until late into the night, so it wasn’t as if Tim could pass it off as him being polite – why would he worry about barging in on his friend’s parents when he knew they wouldn’t be there?

He was at the door.

Damn. He still didn’t have anything.

“Can I come in?” Tim asked, awkward and entirely too formal, his hand on the knob.

Bernard’s eyebrows knit together. “What?”

Tim fought for a winning smile. He wasn’t sure how convincing it was. “Your house? Can I go in?”

“What are you even talking about? Obviously?”

He still couldn’t turn the knob. He felt… sick at the very idea. It wasn’t like lying, where his tongue lay there in his mouth, heavy and useless. It was a revulsion to the idea of walking into someone else’s home uninvited. Technically, he could, but then what kind of person would he be? A terrible one, he thought.

“That’s a yes, then?”

Bernard looked at him for a moment more.

Before huffing a laugh.

“Yes, Tim, you’re always welcome.”

~

Tim had been half awake, shifting under his blankets, wondering whether he cared enough to get out of bed that day. He needed to do some studying before his parents got back in a couple of weeks, but he could procrastinate for a little longer.

All coherent thoughts left his mind when he felt something cold touch his leg.

He tumbled out of bed, thrashing in his blankets, trying to get away from the strange feeling.

But, when he threw off his blanket, he realized that it wasn’t going to be that simple.

Because this is when his eyes landed on a tail.

His tail.

It wasn’t particularly terrible. A deep red flecked with the occasional golden scale, smooth to the touch, not too large – it was a little bit thinner than his leg, and only reached just past his knees. He was, suddenly, vividly reminded of the pictures in that book about dragons Bernard had bought.

A drake.

He wasn’t quite sure whether he found it funny or not.

Maybe he’d find it funnier when he wasn’t freaking out over the fact that he had a TAIL of all things!

How was he supposed to hide this?

He ran a hand through his hair, and his fingers brushed against his horns. His fingertips scraped against the bone, and he grimaced at both the sound and the feeling. Imagine nails on a chalkboard, but you get to feel both scratches, and it's louder than it should be because it’s happening right next to your ears, and you might get some idea of how it felt.

Tim shook his head to himself, trying to ignore the chalk-y feeling under his nails, and instead started trying to hide his tail. He had an overlarge jacket, but he wasn’t confident that that was enough. Have you ever held your arm out for a while? It doesn’t weigh much, and you move your arms all the time so you think it won’t be uncomfortable, but it doesn’t take much longer than a minute before it starts straining your muscles. He would need something to support his tail…

He stole one of his father’s belts from his dusty cabinet, and tied his tail up. The band around his chest was uncomfortable, and kind of hard to breathe around, but he just needed to maintain his disguise until he was safely under the cover of the forest.

Which shouldn’t have been long, but life hated him, and when he went to where the gap in the fence usually was, he found it to be gone.

He had known that life hated him, but seriously? That thing had looked years old, if not centuries. But now that he really needed a way out, now, it was suddenly gone.

Nerves clawed at him as he knelt where the hole in the fence had once been. The wires had been bent sometime over the past half a week, warping it back into place.

He gave a quiet groan. How was he supposed to fix this? If the people that had fixed it came back and saw that the hole had been remade (though Tim had yet to come up with a plan for how to do that), they would get suspicious. Tim knew that the townsfolk had seen him sneaking out a few times before, but he had never paid it much mind, and they, in turn, had pretended not to notice. Tim didn’t believe in the fae, and his parents were explorers so it was only natural that he, too, took an interest in going beyond the fence. But it was also assumed that the reason Tim always went looking for the hole was ease, rather than necessity. If he opened it back up, they would wonder why he would use up all that effort to do it, when he could just climb the fence instead.

He gritted his teeth, glaring up at the fence that had offended him so. Gloves wouldn’t help him, he had a few burn scars littering his back and shoulders from times he had ducked under the gap too hastily. Iron was still iron, even through clothes.

Should he just power through it? Autumn was almost upon them, and no one would think twice about him wearing gloves from now on to hide burn scars. As for spring… he had a strong suspicion that he wouldn’t last that long in the village, anyways.

The ground crunched behind him, and he jolted, tugging his jacket tighter around himself.

He was only somewhat relieved to find a familiar face when he turned around.

“Tim, what’re you –?”

Bernard stopped still, his eyes landing on the fence. The wires were in place, but there were still noticeable dents where it had once curved inwards, allowing people to sneak in and out. His eyes narrowed, briefly, beneath his hat. He seemed to think for a moment.

And then he sighed and shook his head. “If… if you want to sneak out to see if your parents come home early, the people at the entrances will probably understand.”

And Tim hesitated.

He, desperately, wanted to ask whether Bernard knew.

He could ask – should ask. It was almost undeniable that his friend knew, but was that something they wanted to do? It was one thing to know something, another entirely to bring it out into the open. Because then you have to acknowledge it. Acknowledge that there is a change.

Tim would rather not. There had been too many changes lately.

Not least of all the tail he was currently hiding.

“Thanks,” he breathed.

Bernard nodded just slightly, smiling weakly. “I should get away from the fence.”

Tim nodded numbly.

This felt, terribly, like a goodbye.

Arms wrapped around him, and that combined with the belt binding his tail close made it hard to breathe. He hugged back, hiding his face in Bernard’s shoulder for just a moment.

“I’ll be back.”

It was a bad idea, coming back. There was no guarantee he would be able to escape again. But he needed to say goodbye to his parents one last time. He could last two weeks on the food he was given if he rationed it all properly. It was risky, but he needed this, at least.

“Yeah?” said Bernard, sounding like he didn’t quite believe him.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he promised.

They split off soon after, and Tim brushed past the guards at the gate. Careful words spilled from his mouth, about how his parents would be coming home soon without mentions of a time frame, faking glee he didn’t feel – excitement wasn’t all that different from fear, anyways.

Clumsy feet stumbled gracelessly into the clearing. There’s someone already there, someone with pitch black, feathered wings, fluffing up in surprise at the sudden entrance. Tim could assume that this is the ‘Little Wing’ he had been hearing of, but he was not at all interested in introducing himself to him at the moment. Nor is he interested in peeking into the basket at the faerie’s feet. No, he was stressed, and so he yelled for the person who he thought would be the most helpful:

“Oracle!”

It doesn’t take much longer than a second before the faerie appears in a nearby tree, her eyebrows furrowed in obvious confusion and concern.

Tim doesn’t even give her the time to open her mouth. Instead, he tears off his jacket to show her the offending, extra limb.

She made a sucking sound through her teeth, wincing sympathetically. “Ah.”

He freed his tail, and it instantly fell to wrap around his leg. Honestly, it was kind of comfortable. Like a hug but for his leg. This did not change the fact that he was having a Bad Time because of it.

“What do I do?”

Oracle gave him a sympathetic look, but all that did was make Tim bristle.

“I’m not going yet. I can’t go without saying goodbye to my parents.”

She grimaced. “That’s really…”

“They need to know,” Tim said, shaking his head.

“If the village finds out, they won’t be kind to you,” Oracle said, reaching a hand out, clearly intending to rest it upon his shoulder.

He dodged it.

“They deserve to know.”

And it was true.

But it wasn’t, at the same time. Words hung on the tip of his tongue, unable to be spoken. Not because they were lies – he, a teenager who was in over his head, simply couldn’t quite articulate it beyond words that sounded much more bitter than they actually were: it was only fair.

His parents left often, but they always made sure to tell him before they went, they always had one good night beforehand, enjoying each other’s company over food. Tim always stayed behind, watching his parents disappear among the trees, ready for their next adventure. And he was happy for them, and he loved the trinkets and tales they would bring back for him. It was tradition, though he had never been on the other side. It felt wrong to not tell them, to not have that one day before he left.

Oracle looked like she wanted to argue further, but she was stopped, a hand coming to quite literally slice the tension between them.

The pair of reptilians jumped, wide eyes finding their way to the somewhat forgotten third member of their party.

Little Wing sighed, pushing a streak of white hair out of his eyes. “If… go home, and if things go wrong, you can call for me, okay? I’ll come to get you.”

Tim jolted, his eyes finding their way over. “Why?”

He got a mildly confused expression.

“Why’re you… helping me?” Tim said. Not quite wary, not really. Just unsure. “We haven’t even properly introduced ourselves or anything…”

He snickered. “Trust me, it’s not necessary. The others talk about you so much, I basically already know you.”

His face flushed. “Oh. Cool.”

There was a beat of hesitation.

He held his hand out to shake. “Jason Todd.”

Energy crackled between them, and Tim’s eyes flicked up to meet Jason’s, shock painting his face.

“It’s better for summoning. Calling code names works fine when we’re all around a Ring, but the town is too far away.”

Tim nodded slowly. Their hands were still clasped around each other.

His heart hammered in his chest.

“Tim Drake.”

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

Pt 3

All fae-n and games masterlist

#save fae-ce #all fae-n and games #tim drake #red robin #batman #bruce wayne #batfam #batfamily #dc #dc comics #dick grayson #robin #oracle #batgirl #nightwing #barbara gordon #she got the short stick here #but sadly tim wouldnt listen to me #now they have no bonding ;-; #orphan #black bat #cassandra cain #bernard dowd #jason todd #red hood #the tags on this series are gonna be insane by the end