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teamxdark · 3 years

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Mirror, Mirror

Based off of this little interaction between @damnitd and @silvermun a long time ago. It’s basically unedited, but the story I’ll end up putting on AO3/FFnet another day won’t be much different from this one here.

What can one do, when the heart is split in two? Where does one end, and the other begin? Where is the line drawn?

Or should it be drawn at all…?

Sonic stared at the twisted heap of metal on the kitchen counter, bisected by a sword, and tried his hardest not to scream.

“Lancelot,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even, “that was a toaster.”

The knight in question wrenched his sword from the mess, causing sparks to fly and little bits and bobs, both mechanical and breadlike, to scatter across the counter and fall to the floor. “It was burning up,” he explained gravely, “achieving heats far too intense for today’s weather. I could not trust it, and when it let out a scream, I had to act.”

“That ‘scream’ was an alarm,” Sonic snapped, too tired and hungry to deal with this nonsense. “That means that the toast is done and we can eat. Which we can’t now. Because you attacked the toaster.”

The dark hedgehog turned his sword over in his hands, and Sonic braced himself for his rebuttal, and then they would argue over who was in the right, but the knight uttered a soft, “I simply wished to protect you. I am still getting used to the complex machines of this era, and I cannot bring myself to trust them. I realize that this is… unbecoming of me, and an irritation to you. I apologize, and I will try my best to keep my impulses under control.”

Sonic let out his breath in a loud exhale. It was so easy to forget, still, that this wasn’t Shadow in front of him.

No one could quite explain how the switch had come to pass; one day, Shadow and he had parted ways, the sensation that there were still words left unspoken between them that would be better saved for another time, and the next day, Lancelot had been found in his place.

The knight was having trouble adjusting, to put it lightly. It had been weeks, but the advanced technology of contemporary times drove him to paranoia, and Sonic had seen many a monitor, vehicle, and appliance fall victim to Arondight’s wrath, much to Tails’ chagrin.

Worse, still, was that Lancelot refused to stay anywhere aside from Sonic’s home. The knight graciously declined Shadow’s place, leaving Rouge and Omega down one roommate, staying instead in any spare room he could find, so long as it was where Sonic was staying as well. Rouge had laughed it off, waving the knight away with a taunt that he was ‘Sonic’s problem now’, but the hero had seen the flash of hurt and worry in her eyes.

No one knew where Shadow was, or if he was ever coming back.

And now incidents such as these, with another appliance in pieces, were commonplace.

Sonic rubbed at his forehead, trying to put his buzzing thoughts together in his head before he spoke. “Lance, I get that you’re trying to protect me from my evil cookware and all that, but I don’t get why.”

The knight started, one ear tilting to the side in confusion. “Why would I not? I swore to do so, did I not?”

“No,” Sonic deadpanned. “You didn’t.”

That seemed to offend Lancelot, who let go of his sword for a moment to cross his arms. “I do not wish to speak out of line,” he said, sounding like he was struggling to remain calm, “but you are mistaken. A knight is loyal to the sovereign who knights him, until the last of his days.”

“But I didn’t knight you!” Sonic protested, at the end of his rope. “I’m not your king!”

In response, Lancelot pushed up his visor, and Sonic took in the set jaw, the way his pointed white teeth bared themselves in a snarl, by all means, the spitting image of Shadow, with just the smallest thing here and there that harshly reminded Sonic that the one standing before him was not the one he had spent so many years with. He saw it in the same set jaw, as it trembled with the effort to keep everything held back. He saw it in the snarl, which was more dismayed than hostile. Most of all, he saw it in Lancelot’s eyes, red and wide and so very expressive without the visor to shield them away.

Sonic was so used to seeing those eyes guarded, cut off from him, with only the smallest of opportunities to peek inside before they closed him out again.

Lancelot reached out, holding one of Sonic’s hands in both of his, delicately, like he was something infinitely valuable and the knight was afraid of sullying him with his hands. Sonic had only blinked when Lancelot dropped to his knees, his head bowed forward, and he heard him clear his throat before he spoke.

“You are him. You may not believe me, but I know it to be true. You are Arthur, my king, in this life and all others.”

Sonic sighed, unwilling to let this go but also not wanting to keep on this path of conversation, especially on an empty stomach. He tried to wrench away his hand, but Lancelot held tight, lifting his head, eyes ablaze with passionate certainty that made Sonic freeze in place.

He had never been looked at like that before…

"Every piece of you is the same,” Lancelot declared, his eyes unwavering, drawing in the hero and refusing to release him. “It is not only in image, either. I see it, I hear it, I feel it... It's more than just the body, the vision I see before me. You have his soul, free and unbound and hungry for adventure. You have his heart, strong and kind and noble. I see it in your eyes, you are him, you are who he would be if he were not burdened by his destiny! Don't you understand, Sonic? The only difference between you and Arthur are the memories you keep! You are him! You are him, and that's why I will follow you and protect you with my life. I gave you my vow, and I will not break it. No matter the time, no matter the life... I will stand by you until any and every version of us ceases to exist. That is my promise to you, as your knight!"

He said it so resolutely, so earnestly, that Sonic couldn’t find the words, nor the will to argue against him. In all his life, in all his wildest fantasies, Sonic could never have imagined those words, coming from that mouth, spoken in that voice… It was enough to get his heart pounding, that was for sure.

Sonic closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but Lancelot’s hands clasped around his kept him anchored in this strange reality he was in. He didn’t like it; it had taken so long to get to where he had gotten with Shadow, so much time and effort and tenacity to get every last crumb from him, but Sonic had been adamant. He had wanted to break Shadow’s walls, to reach through, to understand him and be someone trusted and cared for. He had tried so hard, made so much progress… and now Shadow was gone, and in his place, Lancelot knelt before him, eagerly baring his soul for him without so much as a command.

Sonic would have been a liar if he said he didn’t like what he saw in Lancelot, either, but after all he had done for Shadow… it felt… wrong? Bad? In poor taste? Off, to be feeling similar flutters in the chest for a man who shared his face but not his past, nor his experiences.

Yet, as he opened his eyes and saw Lancelot still staring resolutely at him, as though desperate for him to understand, Sonic had to wonder if the knight had a point; Shadow had had amnesia twice, now. His memories had reset, but he had still been Shadow at his core. Sonic had never doubted that.

Did memories truly make a person who they were? And if so… were Lancelot and Shadow truly two different people?

Are you him? Sonic wanted to ask as he was burned alive by those eyes, crimson and intense, focused on him and him alone. Are you who he could have been if things had been different?

He wasn’t sure, but at least he could kind of understand where Lancelot was coming from.

Sonic heaved out an exhale, using both hands to pull Lancelot to his feet. “Okay,” he conceded. “Okay… but no more protecting me from my house or my friends. I’ll let you know when we’re in danger, okay?”

And Lancelot beamed, overjoyed, his teeth poking out through his lips and his eyes crinkling with happiness, and Sonic would be an even bigger liar if he denied that it was one of the most gorgeous sights he had ever seen.

Lancelot… I think I want to know you, too.

...

The sound of his pen scratching along the page was the only sound in the room. King Arthur sat back in his chair, stretching out his fingers, his eyes seeking out the room’s only other occupant, who was standing by with his back against the wall, looking displeased.

Shadow was silent, as always.

Arthur let out a breath, drumming a couple of fingers against his desk. “I cannot solve anything if you do not speak,” he finally remarked, much to the displeasure of the other.

“I don’t want to be out there with the others. This is the only room where no one barges in. That’s all.”

“Hm. Quite.”

It was mostly true, he supposed. Sometimes an advisor would poke their head in, but usually those weren’t the people Shadow was hiding from.

Arthur had started hearing the rumors a while ago; Sir Lancelot, his greatest and closest knight, and his longtime friend, was deeply in love with him. The rumors had followed him every day, and plagued him by night, as he wondered if they could be real, and wondered what he would do if they were real.

He had started to see and feel it, too. Lancelot’s habit of looking his way, his gaze, hidden behind his visor, lingering just a moment too long before he looked away again. The way his knight’s hand would remain on his person, his touch still warming him even after he drew his hand away. These moments had grown in number in the latest months, though their time together had remained fleeting, as the life of a king and the life of a knight were wrought with busy schedules and hardly enough time for a ‘hello’ to be exchanged.

For a while, Arthur had felt that something unsaid but reciprocated was between them, but Lancelot was gone, now, and Shadow had taken his place, and now the knights and the maids and the servants all looked at Shadow in the same way they had done to Lancelot, and the whispers and giggles followed the dark hedgehog until he ran into Arthur’s study and shut them all out behind him.

He made for some rather unsettling company, this sullen, tense man who shared his face with that of his closest friend.

Arthur missed him. Arthur missed him so much it hurt, and every day that passed he wished for the man who had stood by him from the very beginning to still be there, by his side, in a world that demanded the most he would be able to give as the bare minimum, but that didn’t mean he was allowed to take it out on Shadow. Nor was he about to dismiss the fact that Shadow was in a strange new world, and likely every bit as confused, disturbed, and frightened as he was.

“Would you like me to speak with them?” Arthur offered, figuring it was worth a try.

Yet Shadow huffed in response, the proposal seeming to offend him, and Arthur wondered why. “Don’t bother, I can handle my own problems.”

That was the other thing about Shadow: he had never, at any point, treated Arthur like he was royalty.

“It’s considered bad form to refuse the offer of a king,” Arthur pointed out, partly as a piece of advice; though he didn’t mind it himself, he knew Sir Gawain would throw a fit upon hearing that Shadow had shown such dismissal.

And the other part of him wanted to push Shadow just a little more. To get more of that strangely satisfying feeling of being treated like a man instead of a crown.

“I don’t care,” came the instant reply, and Arthur had to fight back a smile. “There are no kings where I come from, so your title means nothing to me, and even if it did, I won’t bow to you, or to anyone.”

The ‘not again’ went unsaid, but Arthur could hear it in Shadow’s voice, could read it in his body language. Arthur was always rather adept at deciphering Lancelot’s small cues and gestures, though Lancelot kept many of them hidden behind a wall of steel, but with Shadow, who bared his face and his body for the world to see, nothing could be hidden from Arthur’s discerning gaze. It was fascinating, truly, to be able to read someone new so well and so easily. Shadow was a puzzle with clear edges, but with many, many pieces that Arthur still had to search for.

All in all… a refreshing individual, despite the circumstances.

“Okay,” Arthur relented, and the sight of Shadow’s eyes narrowing in confusion only served to make fighting back his smile impossible. “In that case, I shall leave it to you.”

With that, he picked back up his pen, continuing to draft the latest ordinance on adjusting the limits of imported goods past Avalonian borders. The work was tedious, boring, dull, and even though he had just taken a break, Arthur felt his hand start to cramp with just a few words jotted down. The king sighed, rolling his wrist a few times, before getting back to work.

Just grin and bear it, he thought to himself as an involuntary noise of discomfort escaped him as his hand twinged again. You’ve done it before and you will always be able to do it. A king cannot show weakness. A king may not make excuses for poor judgement. Everyone is counting on me to do the best I can.

The thoughts only served to worsen the sense of anxiety that always seemed to cloud his mind, and Arthur grimaced, dropping his pen, holding his head in his hands and wishing for comfort for a man who was no longer with him.

His ears perked up as he heard a noise, something akin to a footstep taken in his direction, and when the king lifted his head, he noticed that Shadow no longer had his back flush against the wall. The dark hedgehog was doing his best to mask his emotions, but Arthur could still peel back every layer he put up, seeing the concern and the discomfort in the smallest things, from the slight narrowing of his eyes to the light raising of his spines. Shadow’s body language was silently screaming in empathy, something Arthur wasn’t used to receiving from others, and it intrigued him more than it should have.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured Shadow, not waiting to be prompted; he doubted the other would have asked, anyhow. “It’s simply sobering, sometimes, to remember that I have a kingdom’s worth of expectations to meet.” The king looked back down at the piles of papers on his desk; it was the same work, day in and day out, with decisions ranging from laughably easy to crushingly difficult. Yet, he had to make them all. Without thinking, he murmured aloud, “A single mistake could cost me everything I’ve done up to this moment. All the good I’ve done, all the efforts I’ve made, all the reputation that I’ve struggled to build up… it could all go up in smoke in a second, and I would be back at the beginning, needing to prove myself over and over again to people who expect everything from me.”

It was a moment of weakness, of cowardice, wherein Arthur was so tired from years of work and the loss of his most precious ally, for whom he still had almost no time to mourn. His eyes flicked back up to Shadow, and he prepared to apologize and ask that he forget all that he had just divulged 一 it was hardly fair on his guest, after all 一 but then he saw Shadow’s face, stunned and amazed, his red eyes wide and fixed on him, welling with a look that Arthur almost never saw on another person; understanding.

Shadow was looking at him with such mind-blowingly clear understanding and empathy that Arthur’s breath was taken away.

For a few more charged, heart-pounding moments, all they could do was stare, the sensation of something new connecting them becoming stronger and stronger with every passing second.

Then Shadow tore his gaze away and flung open the door, stepping outside and closing it behind him, leaving Arthur alone in his study.

As the king sat back in his chair, he stared into space as he tried to make sense of what had just happened, and what that might have meant for Shadow.

He was certain that, even though his dear friend’s face was too often hidden from view, that Lancelot had never once looked at him like that.

Shadow… what is your story, I wonder?

…

Just when Lancelot thought he couldn’t hate the odd technology of Sonic’s world any more, it came to a sudden and violent peak as the blue hero was called into action as a swarm of machines called ‘robots’ began invading Station Square. To make matters worse, they were created by some sort of mad doctor, and upon seeing an image of the man in question, Lancelot had to restrain himself from running the monitor through with his sword.

This mad doctor held a horrible resemblance to a certain ‘emperor’ that had caused Arthur far too much trouble, back at home in Avalon, and it made Lancelot desire nothing less than for this man’s complete and utter demise at his hands.

According to Sonic, these attacks weren’t anything new to him and his team, and though he knew it was a distraction or a trap, they didn’t have any options aside from stopping them quickly and efficiently, for the sake of everyone who lived in the city. He rallied his team effortlessly, leading the chase down to the battle, not bothering to bark orders because of the trust he carried in his followers…

Lancelot’s heart swam with affection. Sonic truly was Arthur, whether he believed it or not, and it showed in everything he did. He was a leader who cared not for the title, a man who cared for even the smallest life under his protection, and his bravery was unmatched, inspiring, and absolute. Someone of such immeasurable importance that needed to be protected at all costs.

So what else could Lancelot do but run to shield him when, during the battle, he saw a robot take aim at Sonic’s back?

His ears registered the sound of Sonic moving, then stumbling, but he only paid attention to the blast that came his way, soaking up the impact with his legendary strength, but he was not indestructible. Blood began dripping from a wound on his arm, and the scent of singed hair prickled in his nose in the most unpleasant way. Lancelot hissed in pain, his mind threatening to cloud with this new kind of pain, like fire but so much more unnatural, but he took pride in knowing that he had done his job. Sonic was safe. Sonic was safe and…

And he was dragging Lancelot to the side?

“What the hell was that, Lance?” Sonic demanded, panic and fury coloring his tone, and Lancelot’s feet almost froze in shock. Why was Sonic so frightened? Why did he sound so angry?

Had he done something wrong?

In a space several yards away from the battle zone, Sonic sat Lancelot down, and swore under his breath when he saw his battle wound. “Damn it Lance, I knew that robot was there! Why didn’t you just let me dodge? Oh Chaos, you’re bleeding, why did you run in like that?!”

Lancelot only gaped at him, his mind struggling to make sense of his leader’s words as Sonic inspected his arm and fretted over how it wasn’t healing.

Was he supposed to heal quicker than the average being? Lancelot supposed that maybe, with the help of his mother or Merlina, that could be possible, but the young girl who appeared to be his mother’s counterpart appeared more of a fighter than a healer, and he had not yet seen a counterpart to the royal wizard.

Lancelot wanted to ask these questions, to get some answers, but the near furious look on Sonic’s face made him hold his tongue. Such a look on someone he admired and loved so strongly… it was enough to make him feel like the scum of the earth.

The knight sat out the rest of the battle, staying in place even as Sonic left to finish the job, and the humiliating feeling of utter shame managed to overpower even his need to ensure his leader’s safety. Every time he felt the urge to stand up regardless, to charge into the battle even while wounded, and fight by his leader’s side as his sword and shield, the image of Sonic’s distraught face would flash before his eyes again, and he would remember his words, sharper and more painful than any sword, demanding why he had interfered.

Why had he failed his job as a knight?

What good was he, if he couldn’t even fulfil his one objective?

Lancelot’s head remained bowed in shame, even as he heard rapid footsteps coming his way. It remained bowed, even as he felt steady hands clean his wound and wrap a bandage around it.

It was only when Sonic lifted his chin and forced his visor up did Lancelot finally manage to look him in the eye.

“Why did you step in front of me like that?” Sonic asked, his voice calm again, though it did nothing to soothe Lancelot’s inner turmoil. The knight wanted nothing more than to no longer speak, to be swallowed by the ground and forgotten, the pathetic knight who couldn’t do his job when it mattered.

But he couldn’t refuse his leader, and so he forced himself to talk.

“It was the promise I made to you,” he said, and he struggled to keep his dismay in check as Sonic immediately looked displeased at his answer. “I am… protective by nature, and even moreso as a knight. I swore to protect Arthur, and I must protect you, too, even if that comes with my own life as a cost. That is something I must do, for I--”

“Oh stop it!” Sonic interrupted, once again looking angry and upset, and Lancelot bit back his speech, both ashamed and relieved. Had he gone even further, he might have lost control of his emotions and revealed just how deeply his affections for the blue hedgehog lied.

And then, Sonic asked something very, very strange.

“Isn’t there more to being a knight than serving a king?”

Lancelot, who up to that point had felt so certain of his standing, of his mission, of who Sonic was and what he represented, felt his heart break in two as cold reality settled over him.

“No,” he whispered in response, having never felt further away from the other than he did in that moment.

Sonic was not his king. Sonic was Arthur, but he was not his king. Sonic had no want for a knight, no desire to act as a king.

But if that were the case, what was Lancelot to do?

“Lancelot.”

Sonic’s voice was firm, and Lancelot braced himself for some hard truths.

“I’m not a king, Lance. I’m a hero, I guess. That’s what people call me, anyways. But the point is, I’m a free hedgehog. I’m not here to give orders or have people die for me, I’m just around to have a good time, to go where the wind takes me, and if I have to save a few people from some robots in the meantime, I will. I just gotta do what I gotta do… and I can’t do that if all you can do is try to protect me.”

Even with his face raised, chin still supported by his leader-- no, by Sonic’s hand, Lancelot tried his best to look away. His eyes watered treacherously, threatening to spill over. Being a knight was Lancelot’s life, his identity, the air that he breathed, the reality he lived in. It was everything he knew, but… but now it was…

The hand disappeared from his face, and then Sonic was reaching for his own hand on his uninjured arm, and Lancelot was pulled to his feet. Sonic looked him full in the eyes, their pull hypnotic, and even as Lancelot tried to choke back his tears, he felt his breath catch in his lungs.

“Hey… I need you to trust me with my own life, okay?”

Lancelot blinked, and the smallest of tears managed to escape him. Sonic didn’t think he trusted him.

In a sense, Lancelot supposed that he didn’t.

Yet when he reopened his eyes, he saw the look the other hedgehog was sending him, a look he had seen in Arthur’s eyes many times, mixed with a sense of sad resignation. Lancelot had never been able to read it perfectly, a fact which had always frustrated him to no end, for all he wanted was to be Arthur’s closest, to be the one who knew him at a level that no one else could hope to achieve.

But in Sonic’s eyes, the message was plain and clear.

He wanted to be seen as an equal, not someone above him, unattainable, on a pedestal. No, it wasn’t just that… Sonic looked determined to pull them both onto equal ground, to the same level, and the thought made Lancelot’s head spin.

“Lance… I know it’s scary, but you can choose how you want to live your life now, and trust me, it’s a good thing.”

And Lancelot, who knew nothing aside from being a knight, felt the crushing weight of the world in front of him, dark and untamed, when before he had Arthur’s light to follow. Paths were branching in front of him, too many to count and too many to walk down individually and explore. His head spun with possibility, and fright gripped at him, tempting him to deny, to refuse, to hide his face, or perhaps, to die as a knight in a world that refused to house him as he was.

Then he felt Sonic’s hand, still holding his, warm and comforting and safe, and somehow, in the midst of his existential turmoil, Lancelot felt a warm glimmer of hope.

“Okay,” he murmured in response, and Sonic’s brilliant grin soothed and delighted him more than he could properly understand.

Sonic… I shall do my best. For you… and for me, as well.

…

It hit too close to home, in this place that was about as far from home as Shadow could get.

Every day, whether he looked for him or not, Shadow saw King Arthur struggle silently. He saw him work day in and day out, endlessly trying to prove that he was worthy of being king, of being in everyone’s good graces and that he wasn’t just entitled to be there, but that he was supposed to be in his position. Even while all around him there sat obstacles and red tape and tough decisions and divides and people who were just never satisfied and…

And…

Shadow closed his eyes, recalling every debriefing he had had in G.U.N.’s headquarters. He remembered feeling as though he was on a leash, that every mission, every move he made had to be executed perfectly, otherwise he would lose his right to exist as a free being.

No… Shadow had never been free. Not since the day he was created, with the power to hurt and to heal, and every day he had to face the consequences of actions he had committed years prior. Shadow remembered the feeling of the imaginary leash shortening, tightening around his throat, reminding him that no matter what he did, it would never be enough.

Shadow would never be considered a true person by the people who saw him as a weapon.

And Arthur… Arthur seemed to be considered in the same way by the people who saw him as a king.

Shadow’s heart ached, and the dark hedgehog grit his teeth as he recalled all the times he had caught the other wincing and massaging his hand while drafting laws and messages, how he plastered a smile on his face as he met people and made addresses when he clearly would rather be anywhere else, and how he kept his voice even as he ordered his knights around, even though he obviously didn’t want to be giving orders, he just wanted to be looked at as an equal, but he was so ingrained in this life that he felt resigned, and so he stopped trying to fight where the fight could not be won. Shadow knew all these feelings, all the sensations of being worked to the bone, of putting on an act to protect himself, of accepting that there were some things that, like it or not, would simply never change…

But Arthur, unlike him, was not the Ultimate Lifeform. This man was not made of infinite power and energy, was not capable of rapid healing or boosting himself in body and mind with his own energies whenever it suited him. Arthur was a remarkable but regular hedgehog, who had been working off of nothing but his own willpower and strength of mind, and that knowledge hurt perhaps the most of all.

Arthur and himself… they both pulled a painfully similar weight, a weight that, even on his worst days, Shadow had never wished upon another person.

So what else could Shadow do but grab Arthur’s hand and run him out of there, out of the castle, yelling vague excuses at anyone who tried to stop them?

Arthur followed easily behind him, not asking a single question as Shadow ran, ran away from suffocating walls and legal obligations and the knowledge that it was never, ever enough.

Shadow was used to Sonic keeping up with him. They had always been on equal grounds, and Shadow knew it, even at the beginning stages of their rivalry when they both had asserted that they were the stronger, the faster, the more incredible hedgehog. With time, that knowledge became easier to swallow, as their rivalry held a friendlier edge to it, and especially so when their friendship and partnership had become more undeniable, and when those dumb, weird feelings started springing forward and…

And…

But with Arthur and his frightfully similar situation, Shadow’s empathy had hit him like a truck, and seeing him in so much concealed pain every day had turned into something too much to bear, and so, just for this one, Shadow decided he would be the man’s savior, even for just one evening.

They stopped in a meadow, far beyond the castle and away from the treeline where the forests began, and Shadow avoided looking at the exhausted king, unsure how to express what was in his head, in his heart, in his soul.

How was he supposed to tell him that watching him take all this weight, all this responsibility, was too much for him?

How was he supposed to say that he had similar issues, with G.U.N. and the people of the United Federation breathing down his neck and observing his every move, and that perfection was the bare minimum?

How could he express that they both deserved to live their lives without earning the right to exist without constant scrutiny, where one slip up meant everything falling apart, absolute ruin, the end of the world…

Shadow took in a deep breath, his mind spinning with thoughts and feelings he wasn’t sure he could put into words, but when he finally looked over to Arthur, the breath left him and wouldn’t return.

Arthur didn’t look angry or annoyed or anxious, even though Shadow had ripped him from his work that he couldn’t afford to fall behind on. Arthur didn’t look upset at all.

He looked grateful.

He looked serene.

Arthur looked directly into Shadow’s eyes, his own green ones reflecting the stars up above, and Shadow wanted to tell him everything, even though his body refused to breathe and his tongue refused to move.

The hand in his hold shifted, and Shadow felt Arthur squeeze his hand softly, just once.

He understood.

Chaos above, Arthur understood, and Shadow didn’t even need to say it.

Shadow swallowed, feeling overwhelmed, and Arthur seemed to understand that, too. Wordlessly, the blue hedgehog moved closer, his hand never leaving Shadow’s, and he leaned his body against Shadow’s, answering an unspoken need for comfort without smothering him, without trapping him in place with a hug or an embrace.

Shadow closed his eyes, hating how the gesture reminded him of one time Sonic had done something similar, a small shoulder check that had lingered a moment too long, and at his side, he felt Arthur breathe in deeply and hold it in, as though he were resisting the urge to sigh.

Shadow knew he was probably thinking about Lancelot.

Their hands both squeezed at the same time, and they both knew.

It was a strange feeling, as though both of them had lost a large piece of their lives, only to gain another to take its place. It was something that felt like infidelity, even though nothing warranting such a thing had been established with the other person on their minds.

Yet this closeness… this was something that Shadow had wanted for a long time, but had never been able to truly obtain. Shadow didn’t always know how to use his words, how to explain what he wanted or what he needed or what he was going through, and now here he was, with Arthur, a man who understood him without words. A man who he understood, who brought out his empathy to an almost painful degree, and Shadow wanted in that moment for nothing more than for them both to be happy.

As he felt the warmth of Arthur’s body and the beautiful comfort of being understood, even in a world that wasn’t his own, Shadow figured he might be on the right track.

Arthur… I don’t know how to thank you.

…

When Sonic first kissed Lancelot, it was after another battle, in which neither escaped without injury. Sonic could see Lancelot try his hardest to hold back his instinctive reactions, struggling to trust him and not place the blame on his shoulders, and Sonic looked out the window, knowing that life was short and uncertain and that any day might be his last.

He also did it knowing that waiting for Shadow was not going to help either of them at all.

He felt Lancelot tense up in shock, then relax, lifting his hands up to his head and burying them in his spines. Lancelot was pilant, willing, eager to receive whatever Sonic wanted to give him, and Sonic responded with his best efforts to make the kiss special, the sort of kiss that Lancelot deserved, after so many years of putting himself second. Whenever Lancelot made a noise that suggested he enjoyed what Sonic was doing, Sonic resolved himself to keep going, to deliver the indulgence that Lancelot had always been denied of.

It was completely different to how he always imagined kissing Shadow would be like. He had always imagined a competition, with both of them trying to one-up each other like they always did, but Lancelot’s sweet eagerness as their lips met again and again pushed all thoughts of Shadow from Sonic’s mind, and as they finally parted for air, it was Sonic’s name that escaped from Lancelot’s mouth.

…

When Arthur first kissed Shadow, it felt like a long time coming. The king knew he would need to take the initiative, with Shadow struggling to come to terms with his own feelings, and he felt the striped hedgehog become rigid in shock when Arthur’s hands landed lightly on his arms and he pressed their lips together.

He also did it with the knowledge that he might never see Lancelot again, and if that were the case, that Shadow was someone he couldn’t bear to let slip through his fingers as well.

When Shadow recovered from the shock, he kissed back, roughly and intensely, and Arthur found himself being pushed to keep up. It was like a battle, fueled by unspoken, deeply internalized feelings, finally being let loose until their heads swam with a lack of air and an overflow of emotion and the immeasurable feeling of connection without words.

Kissing Shadow lit a fire in Arthur’s soul, even as he felt Shadow start to calm down, finding enjoyment at being able to be vulnerable without pain for once in his life. Arthur could feel the heat flush off of the other’s face in waves, and when they finally parted, gasping for air, he was so, so glad that there was no visor or helmet to create a barrier between him and those eyes, softer than he had ever seen them, that he could read like a book.

#Smash speaks.#Avalon Series.#Stories From Avalon.#Lansoni.#Arthadow.#I wrote 80% of this today after months of barely touching it.#Hope you all enjoy!#I'm going to bed.

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fallin-4-ya · 3 years

Text

when i think of you

when i think of you

fred weasley x reader

summary: as time passes y/n and fred find themselves completely in love with each other, but there just never seems to be a moment where they both have the courage to do so.

warnings: none! (gif is not mine, credit to owner!)

Out of all the people to love in the world I had to choose you.

Y/n loved Fred Weasley more than she cared to admit. She could not explain why or how, but rather all the wonderful and tragic things she felt around him. There was just something about the way he could always make her smile or how he had always known her better than she had known herself. It had been that way since childhood, so y/n tucked away her feelings in a small box in her heart in the hopes that no one would ever find them.

It wasn’t until their sixth year in which she found a crack in that box. After all of those years keeping the lid tightly on, the constant pains in her chest began becoming unbearable. Her, Fred and the rest of the Gryffindors were sat in study hall, fooling around when Fred turned to his brother Ron and hushed, ‘Watch this.’ He threw something towards Angelina Johnson’s direction, capturing her attention. Y/n turned to the scene happening besides her just in time to see Fred ask the beautiful girl in front of him to go to the Yule Ball together.

Y/n felt the color drain from her face. Of course, she had wanted Fred to ask her to the Yule Ball, and she and always known in the back of her mind that he wasn’t going to, but that didn’t stop it from hurting any less.

She got up from the table, leaving the Great Hall; she was desperate to leave and didn't want to look upset in front of her friends. She didn't need to draw attention towards her already complicated feelings. There was no doubt that she was happy for Angelina, she was a wonderful person and fierce friend whom she adored. And considering the fact that Angelina had always talked about Fred, and how handsome she thought he was. It was just so difficult seeing the person who she loved, in the company of someone else. Y/n felt stupid, believing that she could even have a chance with the Fred Weasley. He only saw her as a friend, a sister even. She knew his schemes, she knew that the possibility of him settling for a single girl was slim, but still she couldn’t help from hoping.

Later that evening in the common room she was joined by Hermione, one of her closest friends. Y/n tried her best to convince herself that no man was worth being upset for, but she found nothing but endless excuses for Fred. Hermione sighed sitting beside her, rubbing small circles onto her back.

‘I’m sorry, y/n.’ the younger Gryffindor exhaled. Y/n had never told Hermione her feelings for the eldest Weasley Twin, but somehow, she just knew. Perhaps it had something to do with her own unrequited love for Ron. ‘He’s so stupid. One day he’ll realize you’ve been the one for him all along.’

‘Thanks, Hermione,’ Y/n sighed. ‘I just wish he could see me now.’

Just then a pile of Gryffindors crowded into the common room, laughing about something and causing a commotion. Fred’s eyes immediately went to y/n’s, walking towards her. ‘What’s wrong, y/n?’ He asked.

‘Nothing, Freddie.’ She responded getting up, making her way up to her dorm.

‘Well, somethings clearly wrong, you hardly get like this.’ Fred said. Like this, she huffed to herself, angry that Fred knew her so well. Y/n shook her head.

‘Nothing’s wrong, Fred, so just drop it.’ She snapped at him, frustrated that the very person who made her upset was the one trying to comfort her.

‘Alright.’ Responded Fred, walking back to where his friends sat around the fire. The weeks leading up to the Yule Ball passed quickly; and y/n found herself a date, a very handsome Ravenclaw from her year.

Y/n put on her silky gown and gathered her hair into an angelic updo. For once she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. She shyly made her way to the staircase leading down to the Great Hall, and took a deep breath before she descended into the corridor, dress falling graciously behind her. Y/n felt a pair of brown eyes fall on her. Fred. He was entranced by her being. He had always noticed her beauty, there was no doubt about that, but it was amplified to an extreme tonight. For the first time Fred could see the whole of her face, soft and smooth with rosy cheeks. Her eyes were lit and her lips looked luscious as ever.

Fred felt shell shocked because was this really one of his best friends standing in front of him, but before he got to question anymore, a boy with neat robes and a tie that matched her dress took her arm and they proceeded into the hall as one. Y/n was having the time of her life, no she wasn’t with Fred, but she made fun with what she was given. She dancing with her friends and chatted amongst her fellow students, forgetting about her broken heart.

On the dance floor with her friends, y/n felt a presence come close to her. She turned to see Fred, who took her hand and spun her around. She fell into him laughing when suddenly she caught herself, ‘Where’s Angie?’ She asked.

‘She went to go get some drinks with her friends, so I thought I come spend some tie with my favorite gal.’ he gave her a lopsided grin.

‘Ha-ha, very funny, Fred.’ She rolled her eyes, smirking sarcastic.

‘I wasn’t trying to be funny.’ Fred responded, taking her hand and look at her with pleading eyes. Y/n took a step back from Fred, walking off the dance floor saying something about needed air.

She left the ballroom, tears clouded her vision as she walked out to the courtyard. She only stopped when she heard the sound of footsteps on the pavement following her. Y/n breathed heavy and turned to see the man she had been running from, swallowing her next tear and forming her fists into balls at her side she hissed,

‘What do you want, Fred.’

‘What do I want? To not make you upset, y/n, that what I want.’ Fred raised his tone, ‘Now are you going to tell me what’s going on or am I just going to have to sit here and guess, like I have been for the past few weeks?’

‘You really are daft, aren’t you, Fred.’ She rolled her eyes, ‘You are so incredibly oblivious aren’t you, so up your own arse that you can’t even see what’s right in front of you!’

Fred took a step back, a puzzled look took over, ‘Y/n, what are you even going on about.’

‘Just never mind, Fred. Let’s just forget about it and move on.’ y/n hushed.

‘No! No, not again! You’re always doing this, maybe if you just tried to explain we can work this out.’ Fred pleaded.

Shaking her head, y/n began walking away; but before she could walk out of the courtyard Fred grabbed her hand. ‘Please,’ he started.

‘You really want to know what the problem is, Fred?’ y/n shook, ‘The problem is that whenever I think about you I get so- I get so angry because out of all the people to love in this world I had to choose you.’

Fred let go of her wrist, taken aback by the words the woman in front of him just spoke. She continued, ‘If I was your favorite girl why didn’t you ask me to the ball? Why am I constantly coming in second place for your heart? What is there, Fred, what can I change to have you notice me? I’m so tired of being heartbroken. I cannot do it anymore. There is so much weight in your words that I simply cannot unravel.’

He looked at her, perhaps for a sign that she was joking or for her to take it back because if Fred was being honest with himself, he wasn’t ready for this. Fred, the guy who had all the confidence in the world was suddenly speechless. ‘I-‘ Fred tried to get out.

y/n held her fingers up to his lips, stopping him from saying anymore. ‘Its okay, Freddie. I know you don’t feel the same way. If I’m being completely honest with myself I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore, so let’s just forget about it, alright.’

Fred nodded his head, unable to find the words to say how he felt. His mind paced with thoughts that he was unable to bring to life. Rather than dotting on these thoughts, Fred headed back into the ballroom with y/n as if nothing at all had happened.

They went to sleep and awoke the next morning with no remembrance of the night before. The next morning y/n got up and ruffled his hair as he had always done and he greeted her by sticking out his tongue, which had always been his normal response.

The mornings followed mornings and weeks turned to months, a year had passes and the graduated Hogwarts together. They grew up besides one another, just the way they had always thought. Fred and George opened their joke shop, while y/n began her work in the Ministry, just as she’d hoped. Their twenties came fast, childhood was a distant thing of the past.

Y/n had lost her friends somewhere after the opening of the joke shop and her becoming busy at the Ministry. But Fred could never stop thinking of her. The words she spoke. They way she felt. The way he felt. He had finally understood Y/n’s heartbreak and he yearned for her. Fred had always loved her, but he told himself not to because he was stupid and scared. And now he only had himself to blame.

It was three years before they were finally reunited in person, at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Y/n was nervous to say the least, having no idea what would come up. Yet, the day still arrived at promptly and as quickly as ever. Arriving at the Burrow she was welcomed as warmly as ever. Embraced by Molly and Ginny, she was asked no less than a hundred questions about her life. They chatted for what seemed like hours about her new job, new boyfriends, new adventures and everything in between.

But it wasn’t until Fred Weasley walked down the stairs when she felt that anxious energy arrive back up to the surface. At the sight of him, y/n suddenly forgot how to breathe and how to speak, she stood a bit awkwardly and waved at the man who stood in front of her, handsome as ever.

‘Hey, Freddie.’ She smiled sweetly at him, despite her anxiousness.

‘Y/n!’ Fred ran to her, embracing her in a giant hug. ‘How are you, my love?’

‘Better than you, I bet. Huh, Freddie.’ She laughed at him. And it was if no time at all had passed between the two. They staid joint at the hip the entire night; partying, dancing, talking and enjoying each other’s company. They were on the dance floor, later in the evening; mostly talking about Fred’s horrific dates that he endured and his failed attempts to swoon girls coming into the shop. He turned to you with a light air in his voice.

‘What about you, y/n? Anyone been striking your fancy?’ Fred chuckled.

‘Well, I been going on a few dates with this one guy. He’s pretty sweet, we always seem to have a good time together.’ y/n smiled back. ‘Who knows what’s going to happen? Life is so unpredictable.’

‘Do you love him?’ Fred spat out suddenly.

Y/n took aback by the comment, ‘What?’

‘Do you love him?’ Fred repeated slower and steadier.

Y/n let go of Fred’s hands, taking a step back from him. ‘Fred, I don’t know what you’re getting at.’

Fred looked at her in much seriousness, ‘You know what I’m getting at.’

‘No,’ y/n shook her head stepping farther back from him. ‘No, Fred.’ She turned on her heals and gathered herself out of the tent, walking briskly away from Fred and the festivities. Tears welled up in her eyes and she was unable to hold herself together.

‘Y/n, wait!’ Fred shouted, running after her. Y/n turned to face him, and he couldn’t tell if those were tears of sadness or anger in her eyes. ‘You need to let me tell you, before it’s too late.’

‘No, Fred. You have no right.’ y/n exhaled. ‘You have no right to do this to me now. I have been second to every girl my whole life and I refuse to be the person you settle for, just because I’m the only one left.’

‘Just listen, please.’ Fred fumed, anger building up. ‘You need to listen to me, because I don’t know if I can ever bring myself to say it again.’

‘Fred, stop.’

‘What?’

‘Fred, you’re being mean, stop it.’ y/n said, a silent tear falling. ‘You can’t, not when- not when I’ve been in love with you the whole of my life.’

She briskly turned and began walking back to the party; but Fred caught her wrist and turned her towards her. He took her in. The way her hair still fell perfectly, even after dancing the night away. They way her mascara still sat perfectly among her eyelashes, despite the tars that fell. The way her breathing slowed when he took her hand. She looked as perfect as she did the night at the Yule Ball all of those years ago, except now she had no where to run, no way to silence Fred’s heart.

‘No, I won’t let you leave me like this again. I won’t let you leave me without allowing me a word in. Not again, not ever.’ Fred said, desperation in his voice. ‘I love you. I love you so much it hurts.’

He gazed into her beaded eyes, ‘Do you know how frustrating it is to look at everyone you have ever been with, wishing it was someone else?’ Fred continued, ‘I have loved you for so long I can’t pin point a moment or a day or a time, when I realized I had fallen for you. I loved you all those years ago when you confessed to me in the courtyard. I tried to tell you how I felt, but I just couldn’t. And I wish that I could go back in time and listened to myself, that way maybe I could have avoided heartbreak all together. I wanted to ask you, more than anything. But I was scared and to far up my own arse that I couldn’t realize what was right in front of me. If I could change things I would, I just hope it’s not too late. I’m sorry.’

‘Fred I-‘

‘You don’t have to say anything.’

Y/n looked down, unsure of how to process the information that had just presented itself. Her eyes lifted to meet his, a small tear falling down her cheek as she searched his gaze. ‘You mean it?’ she asked slowly.

‘Y/n, I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life. I love you, and if you will take me even though its late, I’ll be yours forever.’ Fred responded, with a reassurance in his voice. He wiped the tear from her face, cheeks growing rosy.

‘Oh, Freddie.’ y/n whispered, ‘Of course, I’ll be yours.’

He leaned in softly to her, pressing his lips gently against hers. They melted into one another as their lips danced against each other. The entire world could have ended at that moment, but none of that would have mattered to them. They were with each other, finally, after all the passed time. Fred was sure that he loved her more than he would love anything. More than jokes, more than his siblings, more than pranks, more than laughs. As long as he had her, the world was going to be alright.

(a/n: thank you all so much for reading!!! i appreciate you so much! sending love and positive vibes! xo- mari)

#Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #Fred and George #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #george wealsey x reader #hermione granger #yule ball #Ron Weasley #george weasley

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nneogram · 4 years

Text

think about it — part one. get laid!

pairing: jaehyun x reader (f)

genre: enemies to lovers!au, college!au, fluff

word count: 8.4k

warnings: language, mentions of sex but not really (oc keeps being told to get laid “emotionally” idk), jungwoo gets scolded about the importance of consent, jungwoo’s in a frat but not really but yes really, quick reminiscent phone call w/ bestie jungkook, oc has unhealthy studying habits but dw it gradually gets better from here

a/n: i’ll say it for all of us - FINALLY, an update on here. this is result of my own college shenanigans, stories from my friends, and far too many fantasies whilst in quarantine. jeni needs to lay off the k-dramas, sheesh. i’d also like to note that this is unedited! there may be a few grammar/spelling mistakes.

▸ playlist (to be linked later)

Your roommate claims that you need to, in the simplest terms, “Get laid.” You are vehemently against this proposal, despite her insistence and clarification.

“Emotionally. You need to get laid emotionally, Y/N,” Megan whines. That’s all she can do from where she is sitting, tucked safely away beneath the blankets on her bed. It’s cocoon-like, she’s explained to you before, “like being in the womb.” Safe. Secure. Warm. You think that if that was her cocoon, then Megan would emerge a butterfly. If you were in her place? You would emerge a moth.

“I don’t think any getting laid needs to be done, regardless of if it’s emotional or not.” You take another flashcard from your prepared deck. Strong Acids. HCl, HBr, HI… HClO4? A hiss leaves your lips when you flip the card over to see the answer. You were missing two more acids. You reluctantly place the card into the pile to review again, which sat next to a much smaller pile of correct cards. The goal for the morning was to move all the cards in the “wrong” pile to the “right” pile, but considering the size difference of the two stacks, that goal would not be achieved.

Megan’s sigh pulls you from your focus. “Dude. Do you see yourself right now? I don’t think I’ve seen you doing anything other than studying for the past two weeks. I’m going to ace this chem midterm and I’m not even in chem. I’m not even a STEM major.”

You frown. “Sorry. Was I being too loud? I can go-”

“No, don’t worry about me. This is about you. I’m concerned for you - you’ve been cooped up more these two weeks than you were in the entirety of fall quarter. Have you taken a break recently?”

“I slept for eight hours straight, I think that’s a good enough break?”

“No, like a real break. Away from studies and school and just doing something… I dunno, fun?”

You shake your head. The past few weeks had been nothing but relentless studying. In an effort to maintain your pristine GPA, you shoved aside what little downtime you allotted yourself in fall quarter to focus on school. It was the least you could do, considering that you were on track to apply to medical school at the end of your undergraduate career. You were only in your first year, so all of the other requirements for med school - clinic, shadowing, research, the works - were inapplicable for the time being. There wasn’t much to get you ahead other than your 4.0.

Megan knows this, but she also knows that you have little to no social life outside of the bare minimum. It’s an unspoken truth that the two of you being assigned as roommates was a blessing in disguise: your studious tendencies help motivate Megan to stay on task while Megan’s more laidback nature reminds you to take a breather sometimes.

This was one of those times.

“I’m telling you,” Megan crawls over to the edge of her bed to get closer, “You should relax a bit. Just a teeny, tiny bit. Have some fun, live out your first year of college! Make some art, go to the gym, I dunno, step out of your comfort zone. Get laid!”

“You say that last one as if talking from experience,” you tease.

What was the charge on sulfide again? Fuck, it was two minus. Another card goes into the “wrong” pile.

Megan scoffs. “Please. I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and that was in middle school. The most we did was hold hands. Besides, we don’t need men… I just want one.” She mumbles this last part as an afterthought before returning her focus to you. “I think getting a boyfriend would be a great distraction for you.”

You gawk at your roommate, eyes flitting from her to your toppling stack of incorrectly answered cards and back to her. “Do you see this? I don’t need any distractions right now.”

“No, no, I - fuck. I got that all wrong, didn’t I.” Megan facepalms. “What I mean is maybe you should befriend some people, or find some kind of emotional outlet. As much as I pride myself on being your source of positivity, I’m not around all the time to tell you to take a break and relax. You tend to be hard on yourself, y’know?”

Your gaze once again travels to your flashcards, their amount of use prominent in the worn-down corners and smudged ink. “I guess…”

There’s a smile of satisfaction on Megan’s face. “Think about it,” she concludes, then crawls back to her cocoon of blankets to take a nap.

The gloom of the rainy weather hits most forcefully in January. With the merriment of the holiday season behind you, it seems there is nothing ahead but cold, and rain, and emptiness. Only so many mugs of hot chocolate could keep your heart warm, and it wasn’t even the good type of hot chocolate - it was the powdery stuff that you mixed in with your lukewarm water because the water kettle you brought with you to the dorm was buggy and never fully heated up a pot of water.

Yeah, you could buy yourself a cup of cocoa from the coffee shop on campus, but as the college kid stereotype proved, you were broke. So you settle for your half-assed attempt at a comfort drink, taking extra effort to stir the dregs that tend to settle at the bottom of your styrofoam cup.

“So you need to get laid?” Jungkook’s voice crackles over the phone.

You sigh. For getting into one of the most prestigious universities in the country, Jungkook lacked the ability to draw proper conclusions from given information. He clearly hadn’t paid attention to your five minute spiel on your deteriorating motivation for life and your roommate’s unusual suggestion. “No,” you begin slowly, because if you didn’t control yourself you were going to get annoyed quickly, “I do not need to get laid.”

It’s dusk, around that time of the evening where the world slows down as the sky is painted a myriad of pinks, purples, and oranges. Even in January the sunsets in your college town never failed to astonish you. However, it’s also the time of the day when loneliness hits you most, and for a fraction of a moment you get homesick and usually end up calling someone from home. In this case, you end up contacting a close friend - though you’re beginning to question Jungkook’s title as a close friend, considering he completely missed the point of your rant.

“Well it sure sounds like it,” Jungkook refutes. There’s a loud crunching noise on the other end of the call, and you have to bring the phone away from your ear as the crackling continues. You know for a fact that Jungkook has bitten into a chip, most likely the barbecue ones he always had on hand. The audacity to snack on junk food in the middle of a conversation about your existential crisis - you sometimes wonder how you and Jungkook became friends in high school.

Then again, you were on the other end slurping the remnants of your hot cocoa. Maybe there was something going for the two of you.

“Think about it.” You’re reminded of that afternoon when Megan said the exact same thing. “You’re unmotivated. Why? Because you’re lonely. How do we fix that? You need to get laid-”

“-Emotionally. Emotionally laid-”

“-Yeah yeah, same difference. They go hand in hand,” Jungkook brushes off. “The point still stands. When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

You hesitate to answer. “I’ve never been in a relationship,” you mumble.

“I couldn’t hear you. What?”

“I said I’ve never been in a relationship,” you repeat with a sigh.

There’s a beat of silence. “You’re kidding.”

You shake your head, momentarily forgetting this is a phone call and not an in-person conversation where Jungkook can see you. Students begin to flood the sidewalks outside of the dorms, likely the last wave of students returning for their later classes. A girl - Megan, you realize after squinting - waves at you from across the street. You wave back, gesturing to her that you’re on a call. She nods and goes on her way to the dorm.

You return your focus to the call. “No, not kidding.”

“I’m taking that lapse of silence as you actually having to think about it.” You roll your eyes, another gesture that Jungkook cannot see. “How? You’re telling me all four years of high school you never got with someone? Not even a fling? Not even that weird ‘talking’ phase kids do these days? What have you been doing all this time?”

Your mind immediately goes back to your high school graduation. “Valedictorian, weighted GPA of 4.8, Y/N Y/L/N, attending…” You remember the smile on your face as the principal handed you your diploma. You remember the smiles on your parents’ faces, the pride and joy in their eyes. That was when you knew it had all been worth it - no one but you, your parents, and your own pure ambition fueling your fire for the four years of high school.

Maybe the closest you got to any sort of romantic relationship was… with Jungkook.

You liked Jungkook before your brain could fully process it, denying it as platonic affection for the better half of three years as he took you under his wing your freshman year. It was comforting to have someone older than you help you navigate high school, but as much as you tried you could not view Jungkook as an older brother as he so claimed to be.

Of course, nothing was ever to happen. Jeon Jungkook was a boy entirely out of your league - star student, star athlete, poster child for all things good and right in the world - but most importantly, he was your closest friend. It was this label that helped set a boundary for your affections, and your crush became more of a pastime to delve into when you wanted a break from your studies. A fantasy that would never come true.

It wasn’t until he moved away for college your senior year that your crush subsided, hitting you like some sort of epiphany when he returned for his winter break. You had been beyond elated to reunite with your friend, but when you looked in his eyes it dawned on you that the weight of his words and actions no longer affected you as much as they did in the past.

That was your only stint with romance, and you were fine with it staying that way. Yeah, it was a fruitless endeavor, but look what you got out of it: a great friend! And only at the price of three years of unnecessary emotional turmoil and relentless unrequited pining. What a bargain.

“I’ve been busy with school, mainly.” It’s an insufficient summation of your high school experience, but it got the point across. Technically, it wasn’t a lie.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of you and all - and I respect your decision to be single! Human rights and all that - but maybe it’s time for you to get into a relationship.”

You snap your fingers loudly enough to startle a group of guys walking past. You hope the grimace on your face is enough of an apology. “Oh my God, thanks Jungkook! Now that you mention it, let me just hit up one of the many young eligible bachelors pining over me, because there are so many right now.”

The feigned enthusiasm in your voice does not entertain Jungkook as much as you would have liked it to. “I’m sure there are, Y/N. There were plenty in high school.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” The playful smile you sport falls from your lips as he proceeds to dive into a list of names.

“The one guy with the yellow hair… Yugyeom thought you were cute… Oh, Taehyung liked you too-”

“-Taehyung?” You gawk. “The Kim Taehyung. The guy two years older than you, editor of the yearbook and captain of the lacrosse team? The Kim Taehyung who was Prom King. Him?” It’s difficult to process a senior that you had regarded so highly had taken interest in you in your lowly freshman year.

“Yeah, I know, right? I told him he was out of your league-”

“-Hey!”

“-But I said that out of jealousy. Heck, even I liked you at some point, Y/N. You’re quite a catch, just super oblivious.”

The reminder of your phone call with Jungkook consists of your disbelieving laughs and Jungkook’s reassurances that yes, that many people liked you in high school.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people interested in you. You just have to see it for yourself first.” Oddly prophetic for someone who claims he could survive solely off of energy drinks and barbecue chips, but considering he was studying at an Ivy League, he had to have some credibility. You end the phone call possibly more confused than you had been before the conversation. Swirling the contents of your cup absentmindedly, you realize you’ve drunk all of your hot cocoa. All that is left at the bottom of your cup are the clumps of cocoa powder that hadn’t been properly stirred. The dregs. Of course.

You relay your findings to Megan the next day over a lunch of poorly cooked rice and under seasoned chicken. “Food crafted by the gods to remind us of our inferiority,” as Megan liked to call it.

She claps her hands like a seal. “So I was right!” She cheers over a mouthful of food. “You need to get laid!”

You’re a bit too late to cover her mouth, her ambiguous words now out in the open for others nearby to hear and assume the wrong thing. Glancing around, you’re relieved to find that no one seemed to notice, save for one boy at a nearby table surrounded by some of his friends. He gives you a look but you refrain from making eye contact.

“I feel like you and I heard different stories just now.” You keep your voice down. “Meg, I just found out my high school crush - debatably, my first love - liked me at some point when I liked him. Do you know how big that is?”

“Do you know how big that isn’t?” Megan shoots back. “Because nothing came out of it. You never acted on your feelings. And something tells me that even if this John Cook-”

“-His name is Jungkook, but okay-”

“-Even if he had acted on his feelings, you would never believe it.” Ouch. She really went for your lack of self-esteem right there, and that shit hurted. Regardless, she’s right, and you both know it.

“You know when we say this, we’re not trying to force you into anything you don’t want to do,” Megan clarifies. “I’m not saying you should get dicked down by the first guy who gives you attention, but wouldn’t it be nice to let someone - someone who genuinely cares for you - to let them into that dark and twisty mind of yours? God knows what’s going on up there.” She gestures to your forehead with her spoon.

Brushing aside Megan’s crude wording near the beginning, you’re at a loss for words. Unsure of how to respond, you mumble, “But there’s no one like that in my life. Other than you, that is.”

“Because you never let anyone close enough to truly know you. Just…” she pops another spoonful of rice into her mouth, “Just think about it.”

D-1 until your midterm. Nomenclature and ionic charges are now extremely familiar to you, having taken the spot from Megan as Number One Friend. And yet, you still haven’t successfully completed your flashcards.

Strong Acids. You suck in a deep breath, swerving in between groups of people as you make your way to the cafe. Walking quickly with your head down as the sure fire way of getting to any destination as quickly as possible. Okay Y/N, you got this… HCl, HBr, HI, HClO4… HNO3? You flip the card over and hiss. You were missing one more response. You truly hated it here.

The cafe is bustling with students on their laptops and scribbling away in notebooks, all likely studying for their respective exams. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans pervades the entirety of the interior, drawing you further inward until you’re standing at the cashier.

“One tall vanilla latte, please.” You hand the girl behind the counter your money and stand aside to let the next person in line order. Once your order is called, you grab your drink - Ah, nothing like a fresh cup of capitalism to revitalize your motivation to study - and search for a place to sit. As if by the grace of God, someone leaves their seat at the barstools just as you turn around. Beautiful.

“Excuse me,” you tap the shoulder of one of the people next to the open seat. “Is this seat taken?” He shakes his head no, and you take that as your signal to sit.

You find yourself sandwiched between two young men, each immersed in their own studies. The one to your right, the one you had talked to briefly, appears to want no further interruptions, both earbuds in his ears. The one to your left never turned around to begin with, head down as he types away at his laptop. All you can make out are his broad shoulders in a brown leather jacket and a mop of strawberry blond hair. An interesting choice of hair color, but you weren’t one to judge. He’s nodding his head to some tune, and it’s only then you realize he has one earbud in. You wonder what kind of music a cute man like himself would listen to -

Get a hold of yourself, Y/N, you chastise yourself for showing sudden interest in a complete stranger. The day before your midterm at that - there was no space in your head for an unknown young man who was probably good looking, too - No! Focus. Flashcards. You fumble in your jacket pocket for your index cards.

Chemistry nomenclature, round fifty-six.

As you’re reviewing, you overhear the conversation proceeding next you with the cute guy and a girl. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” The familiar words make you think of mere moments before when you were asking the same thing.

“It isn’t, but… you can’t sit there.”

Huh?

“I’m sorry?” The girl seems to mirror your confusion.

“You can’t sit here. I’m sorry.”

“But someone else can?”

Your flashcards go ignored as you choose to eavesdrop on the full conversation. The man stalls, looking at the girl up and down. “... Yeah, maybe.”

Trying your best to not draw attention to yourself, you turn your head in slow, languid movements to look around. Was anyone else seeing this? Hearing this? Were you the next unsuspecting victim on an episode of What Would You Do? You were half expecting a game show host to step out and introduce himself at any moment. Y/N, you’ve just been Punk’d!

Unfortunately (or fortunately, you couldn’t decide which scenario was better), no game show host steps out from behind a curtain, and it sinks in that this guy wasn’t joking. He was intent on not letting this girl sit next to him.

“Look,” the girl runs a hand through her hair, a habit of frustration, maybe. “I really need a place to sit and work on things, and this seat is open. That, and it’s a public space. So if you’ll excuse me-”

The young man easily lifts his backpack from his chair with one hand and places it in the open seat. “There. It’s taken now. Sorry.”

The girl’s eyes widen, and you can only imagine what your face looks like right now. You’re in just as much shock as she is.

You scoff, and this time you don’t care if he hears. And he does: the stranger finally turns around in his seat to reveal an extremely attractive face. Chiseled jawline, deep brooding eyes, dimples even when he was scowling. You freeze and your breath hitches in your throat. It’s a shame he had to go and open his mouth.

“Excuse me,” you cut in sweetly, making a point to only make eye contact with the girl. “You can sit here. I’m about to leave.”

The girl’s eyes go wide at the addition of a third party. “Oh, no, you don’t have to! Thank you so much though.”

You shove your flashcards into your backpack and stand up from the seat. “No no, I insist, it’s fine. Besides, I didn’t want to sit there anymore.” Only then do you shoot a glare at the young man. “I couldn’t focus.”

Judging by the way the girl eyes the strawberry blond next to you, you think she doesn’t want to sit there anymore, either. Nevertheless, a seat was a seat. She thanks you profusely and you head out the doors and down the path to return to the dorms.

Naturally your mind drifts back to the stranger. Who was he to have so much pride as to deny a seat to someone he didn’t know? A seat that wasn’t his, either? The thought that people like him exist irks you.

He was so good-looking, too, your subconscious proceeds to remind you.

But alas, a jerk was a jerk, and at the end of the day you had far more important things to worry about than an indecent stranger whom you doubt you would see again. More important things such as -

Your phone rings with an alarm notifying you of your next scheduled event: Final Review B4 Exam! You sigh. Looks like it was back to the books (and flashcards) for you for the rest of the night.

It doesn’t hit you until you crash land into your desk chair: in your anger-fueled exit from the cafe, you had completely forgotten your barely touched vanilla latte sitting at the barstool counter. At this point you’re ready to tear your hair out at the roots. You’re five dollars and one fresh cup of caffeinated capitalism short for the night’s study session. You really hated it here.

If Megan were here, she would whip you into shape real fast, shouting at you that you’re a “Bad Bitch!” or some other expletive motivation that would comfort you. Except Megan isn’t here, attending some kind of club meeting, leaving you alone in the dorm. Another sigh escapes your lips and you tilt your head back to stare at the ceiling.

Maybe, just maybe, you needed to follow through on this whole “getting emotionally laid” thing.

The midterm you had so diligently studied for was a success. Inorganic Chemistry A5 didn’t know what was coming when you rolled up with your beloved flashcards - all successfully completed, mind you - ready to fight. Needless to say you were able to enter the weekend with no qualms. You now had much needed time to recuperate and as Megan had said before, to “take a break” (among other things you were not going to address anytime soon).

Some students recovered from the trauma of frequent exams via partying, deciding it was better to be under the influence in order to get over their academic standing. Some would meet up with their friends, maybe gossip about the latest episode of the hottest reality TV show. In your case, you decide to binge watch as many k-dramas as humanly possible. While you preferably do so in the comfort of your bed, tonight Megan has taken authoritative control over the dorm room. Meaning, she had a psychology midterm the following Monday and needed to be able to focus on nothing but the role of the amygdala without the OST of whatever drama you were watching in the background. You know for a fact if you were in the room minding your own business Megan would ultimately get distracted and join you in your k-drama marathon. Thus you are thrown to the streets with nothing but the clothes on your back and your belongings stuffed into your backpack.

You take extra care to avoid the puddles forming on the sidewalks, the result of on and off rain throughout the day. There are noticeably less people outside, and you have a feeling that any building you choose to house yourself in will be quite the opposite, likely packed with students.

After milling about campus for a few minutes, you finally settle down in the Student Community Center - a fancy name for yet another building on campus where students could lounge about and study slash socialize. As predicted, there are significantly more people crowded in the lobby area of the two-story building. Your boots squeak against the tiled floor as you make your way down an inconspicuous hallway. Tile turns to carpeting when you step into an almost empty study room. Only a handful of people are present in the room, scattered across the tables and couches. No one ever bothered to check the rooms at the very ends of the hallways - only those more dedicated to being unbothered ever made it that far - and you were grateful for this as you settled down at one of the open couches.

Hotel Del Luna is the show of choice for the evening, and you cuddle up to the armrest of the couch as you press Play. You had watched this one before, having been forced to do so with Jungkook at its release. Curse him and his admiration for IU - some of the ghost scenes kept you up at night the weeks after watching. You much preferred the more lighthearted slice-of-life k-dramas, but following your phone call with Jungkook you were drawn to the darker show. Call it nostalgia, call it an attempt to relive the happy memories of the past, call it denial of reality, whatever.

You’re two hours into your binge watch when you notice an unfamiliar presence at your side. A boy, and a breathtaking one at that. When he had joined you, you’re not sure, but you catch him glancing at your laptop screen every so often. He doesn’t stick out too much, black hair hidden beneath a black baseball cap and similarly monotone attire with a black hoodie that was definitely way too big for him. Yet no amount of nondescript clothing could cover up his impeccable bone structure. This man had a jawline and a nose bridge that were to die for, and although you haven’t made eye contact with the stranger you’re already feeling self-conscious. There’s no way in hell you’re initiating any sort of interaction with him.

But there’s no need to worry, because the stranger does it for you.

You’re on episode three when there’s a gasp from beside you. “Lee Jun-Ki!” You crane your neck to see the stranger leaning over to watch your laptop screen. The work in front of him - whatever that mess of hieroglyphs and symbols was - is completely forgotten as he scoots closer.

It’s not until you lean a bit away from him that he realizes his actions. “Oh, sorry. I kinda needed a break from studying or else I was gonna lose it.” His ears turn a bright pink as he explains himself. “Is it okay if I watch with you?”

“Uh…” Now that your full attention is on him, you give the stranger a proper glance-over. He was indeed studying, some sort of language of shapes and numbers that was foreign to you sprawled across his notebook in a variety of colors. Other than the all black attire (which was reasonable for college - wasn’t everyone attending their own funeral during exams season?), he didn’t look too shady… “Sure.”

“Sweet.” He extends a hand to you, pulling back the ginormous sleeve that threatens to hang over his fingers. “My name’s Jungwoo.”

You tentatively take his hand. “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N. Are you a first year?”

You nod your head, and Jungwoo smiles. “Cool. Me too.” He moves back to his side of the couch, but quickly scoots back to sit directly beside you after he has shoved all of his work into his backpack. He settles beside you on the couch, slouching down similarly to you. “Alright, let’s do this.”

You crack a smile at the boy’s unabashed boldness. He immerses himself in the episode alongside you, clear adoration in his eyes whenever IU makes an appearance on screen. “You like IU, I take it?”

Jungwoo shakes his head. “Not half as much as one of my friends. He idolizes her. I just... look at her very respectfully.”

“Me too, actually,” you confess. “My friend forced me to watch with him. I usually watch happier things. My favorite is Weightlifting Fairy.”

Jungwoo’s eyes go wide. “I love Weightlifting Fairy!” His theatrical gasp attracts the attention of the few students nearby. This newfound information seems to make something click in Jungwoo’s head, because he wiggles all the more closer to you. “You’re quickly becoming my best friend, Y/N.”

“I’m a friend?”

“Duh. This was established when you didn’t run away from me in fear when I was quite literally looking over your shoulder. And that’s happened before with other people. Twice.” He seems to feel the need to add in the last few details, much to your amusement. “Now shush. Lemme admire IU in peace.”

That interaction with Jungwoo is only the first of many, many more. While you’re the type to keep to yourself and not approach others, Jungwoo was the opposite. You’re only a bit surprised when he yells out your name from across the street a few days later, sprinting towards you with unbridled excitement on his face. The last time someone was that happy to see you was when your dog greeted you after returning home for the holidays.

“Good morning, Y/N! Where you headed? I have Material Sciences in an hour. I got time, so I’ll walk with you wherever you’re going!”

Much like your first encounter, you agree with some hesitance. Jungwoo seemed to not have a bad bone in his body, no ill intentions whatsoever. It was refreshing to be in the presence of someone who wasn’t already jaded by the world.

As promised, Jungwoo walks with you to your destination, the coffeeshop, even waiting with you in the insufferably long line. You find out that Jungwoo is the same age as you, a Mechanical Engineering major, and is a part of some sort of club that allowed him to connect with upperclassmen of different majors but with similar interests.

“It’s called Nu Kappa Tau, everyone there’s really nice! I’ll bring you with me to the next social event.”

“Nu Kappa Tau?” You test out the syllables on your tongue. “Greek? Are you in... a fraternity?”

Your tone of voice insinuates something bad, and the way Jungwoo reacts quickly tells you he has a similar stance on the Greek life in college. That similar stance being that frat boys were vermin. “No, no no no no. It’s Greek, yes, but we are definitely not a fraternity. It’s more like… a social, cultural, and academic club?”

“Jungwoo. That’s exactly what a fraternity would say to make it seem like it’s not a fraternity.”

“Okay, but in this case we’re actually not a fraternity, I promise.” He tugs on your shirt sleeve and looks at you with pleading eyes. “You should come with me to the next event. It’ll be fun, and I’ll prove to you it’s not a fraternity. Please?”

You remain silent, eyes turning to the coffeshop’s menu. Even when your gaze is somewhere else you can sense the way Jungwoo is staring you down with those puppy dog eyes of his. This was what, the second time you were talking to him, and already he wanted to go to a social event with you? “I don’t know. You’re nice and all, but I’m not the type to warm up to people easily. I’ll have to hang out with you more first. No offense.”

Most people cower at your denials, retreat to more comfortable territory where there’s no fear of rejection. Jungwoo, however, beams at you. “None taken, Miss Y/N. You know why?” He pauses for dramatic effect, quirking an eyebrow in mischief. “Because that wasn’t a no.”

A few people in line crane their necks to peer at the two of you as a resonant smack rings out in the coffeeshop.

“Ow - Y/N - Ow!” Jungwoo rubs at his upper arm. You know you didn’t hit him hard enough to elicit this sort of dramatic reaction, but it’s what he deserves.

“You can’t use that logic, Jungwoo,” you scold, bag poised in the air ready for another attack. “The only means of consent is a yes. Say it with me. The only means of consent is a-”

“-Yes, yes, okay! I got it, I’m sorry. I sincerely apologize.”

Fast forward two weeks later, and you know Jungwoo a bit too well for your liking. Following your rejection of his offer, Jungwoo goes ahead and makes it a point to see you for at least an hour a day, weekends included, in order for you to “warm up to him.” Some days, it’s lunch shared in the cafeteria between classes. Other days it’s hours upon hours of studying together in the back of the library, you and Jungwoo taking shifts napping while the other crams for their classes.

He forces - “heavily insists” - you to share your location with him on your phones, so it’s of no surprise to you when he starts showing up outside of your lecture halls after class. It’s when he’s walking you back from your last class of the day that you find that he lives a floor above you in the same building. Of course.

Dare you say it, it’s easy having Jungwoo in your life. He walks with you everywhere, always initiates conversation, and eats as many meals as possible with you - or as many as Megan allows.

“Hey Y/N,” your roommate greets you with a warm smile which quickly turns into a steely glare when he acknowledges the young man standing by your side. “Ahem. Jungwoo.”

If Jungwoo was a legitimate candidate for your mission of “getting laid,” Megan would be ecstatic. However, you explain to her that Jungwoo is nothing more than a friend, and suddenly Megan thinks he’s out to take her spot as Y/N’s Best Friend (insert trademark emoji here).

“Megan, always a pleasure,” Jungwoo croons. If he’s perturbed by your roommate’s aloof greeting, he doesn’t show it, a smile growing on his face. Jungwoo turns to you. “See you at nine?”

You nod. “See you at nine. Bye.”

“Bye.” Jungwoo waves then walks down the hallway to the stairs. You wait until he’s out of sight to turn back to Megan, who has one eyebrow raised.

“What’s going on at nine?” She questions.

A defeated grin makes its way onto your lips. As much as you had been dreading what was to come, you couldn’t deny the excitement building up within you at the thought of something… new, for once in your life. “I’m going to my first party.”

Jungwoo, as promised, picks you up from your dorm room later that evening. He texts you an ominous message of i’m outside ur dorm lol for you to find him in the driver’s seat of a car far too expensive for any broke college student to own.

Hesitantly, you hop into the passenger seat and gingerly close the door. You’re not sure who he borrowed this from - or maybe it was a rental? - but you wanted to make sure you took no part in any damage fees he’d pay later. “I thought first years couldn’t have cars on campus.”

“I know. I’m a rule breaker, Y/N. I can’t be stopped… And maybe I borrowed it from a friend.”

Jungwoo insists on manning the aux, which you oblige to as you don’t trust your music taste to be liked by others. Something about the artist name Sergio Rachmaninov didn’t always hit well with the young folk these days. The queue starts up as he pulls out of the parking lot, a bass-boosted R&B song filling the expanse of the lush interior.

“I’m going to warn you, this music queue is all over the place.” All over the place is correct, because after the R&B song finishes a ballad comes on, followed promptly by the song “Good Time” by Owl City. It’s a good song, a tolerable one, but after the second run, and third run, and even a fourth run you can’t help but wonder if the queue is glitching.

“Jungwoo.” He grunts in response. “Did you mean to put this song on loop?”

He shrugs. “What can I say? It helps me focus.”

You’re really questioning the sanity of the man behind the wheel.

Four and a half plays of “Good Time” (or fifteen minutes) later, you and Jungwoo arrive at your destination.

You audibly gulp. “Jungwoo. You are so in a frat.”

“No I’m not!” The man whines. “I swear!”

You and Jungwoo must not be looking at the same house, because the one you’re looking at is nothing less than a mansion: two stories, covering a wide expanse of vivid green lawn, with pillars on either side of the double-door front entry. Windows line the top and bottom floors, and hedges line the cobblestone walkway in the front. It looks like something out of a Southern period drama with the Victorian, colonial style architecture.

“You sure?” You can’t break your gaze away from the three enormous Greek letters placed above the entryway. “‘Cause no normal house emblazons the symbols of their group name across the front like that.”

As soon as you step foot in the door, you regret your decision to come. “Kim, I think I left something in the car-”

You’re rudely interrupted by Jungwoo swinging an arm over your shoulder a bit too harshly.

“Relax,” he reassures you. “My friends don’t bite. Only I do that.” You’re given no time to question that statement before he leads you further into the house.

If there’s one thing you can count on with Jungwoo, it’s his ability to socialize. It seems he knows everyone in the house, proven to you by the way he either nods his head or does a handshake with every individual present. He leads you to the kitchen where two guys are conversing, one looking like an overgrown man child and the other looking like… well, an actual child.

“Hey, look who finally decided to show up,” the much taller boy croons. “And he brought a friend.”

“Johnny, this is Y/N. Y/N, Johnny. He’s in his fourth year.” You shake hands with Johnny, who grins at you. He seems nice, other than the fact that he continues to stare at you through the duration of the handshake. Perplexed, you refuse to break his gaze.

Johnny is the first to look away, turning immediately to Jungwoo. “Oh, I like her. No one has yet to win my staring contest this year, other than you, Y/N. Congratulations.”

You force a laugh. “Thanks?”

Jungwoo steers you to the second boy, this one noticeably shorter - or was he still tall? Anyone standing next to Johnny seemed to be dwarfed in his presence - with dyed blond hair. He has a cap over his head and circle glasses, and you can’t help but think he looks awfully young to be at a frat-but-not-really house party.

“And this is Mark. He’s a fellow first year, but he’s our baby.” Jungwoo coos the last word, making Mark huff. Lowering his voice to a stage whisper, Jungwoo explains, “He was born in 1999, so we have a good year on him.”

You click your tongue. Ah, that explains why he looks so young. You deem Mark to be far more approachable than Johnny and shake the young boy’s hand eagerly.

“Where’s Peaches?” Jungwoo asks Johnny. The older boy shrugs.

“I dunno. Not my problem.”

“Oh, I don’t think Jaehyun’s coming,” Mark cuts in. “Texted me saying something came up. Something about a paper due. Wait. Didn’t you take his car?” He points to Jungwoo, who shrugs with a look of Whoops, sorry on his face.

Johnny groans. “Oh, shoot. That’s right. We have a paper due tomorrow morning.” As quickly as the realization hits him, the worry is gone. “Eh. It’ll be fine.”

The three boys converse a bit longer, exchanging pleasantries and whatnot, before you and Jungwoo make your departure. The most that comes out of your mouth are feeble courtesy laughs and the occasional sarcastic quip to keep Jungwoo’s chaotic energy at bay. You wait until Jungwoo’s led you away to voice your thoughts. “What kind of name is Peaches?” You repeat.

“Right. One of the upperclassmen got the nickname because he smelled like them his first day of recruitment. Apparently he lives near a peach tree orchard or something. Therefore, he’s Peach Boy.”

You make a mental note of the phrase recruitment your friend uses. One day, you’ll compile a long enough list of evidence proving Nu Kappa Tau was a frat, and the word recruitment was one of them. “So what’s your nickname then?”

“Me? I’m not technically initiated yet,” - did this man use the word initiated? Yet another piece of evidence for the fraternity agenda - “but if I had to choose…” Jungwoo pauses and drums his fingers against his chin. “I’m Cheese Boy.”

You pause, letting his name sink in. The laughter bubbles up within you, threatening to spill out in a snort. It instead comes out as a strong exhale through your nose.

“Whatever, Cheese Boy,” you tease. “How much longer until I can go home?”

The next time you see the boys of Nu Kappa Tau is when Jungwoo drags you to yet another one of their events but a few days later. “This one’s right up your alley,” he insists. He also bribes you with the promise of buying your lunch, and the kabob food truck was on campus today, meaning you were eating well this afternoon. Making an appearance at his frat was but a small price to pay for your beloved meal of choice.

Jungwoo’s right - this event is up your alley, because you recognize the route he takes across campus. “The library?”

He nods. “NKT Study Hall.”

As you enter the building Jungwoo pulls you down an unfamiliar corridor then up a flight of stairs. An unspoken farewell is bid to your usual study spot by the second floor window as you continue up, up, up, until finally stopping at the fifth floor where no more stairs remain. You didn’t realize the library went up that high, and you probably frequented the building more than all of the boys combined - not that you knew any of the Kappa Tau boys yet.

Though they do look extremely threatening now that you’re standing in front of them.

Jungwoo brings you to stand in front of him. “Men and Mark Lee-” (“Hey!” Mark complains,) “-I introduce to you my partner in crime, Y/N.”

You give a feeble smile to the young men surrounding the table. You recognize a few of them from the party, Johnny and Mark being the only ones you can put a name to. The two wave to you and you feel a little more welcomed. Aside from the duo, everyone else is unfamiliar, giving you emotionless head nods and scowls.

“Y/N, you know Johnny and Mark, over there’s Lucas, and that’s Sicheng.” You nod at the two of them, who seem nice enough. The latter actually gives you a soft smile, so you consider that a win in your book. “And over at that table is Doyoung, Ten… You know what? I’ll just introduce you to everyone later. Have a seat.”

You trust your friend to guide you to the safest open seat, directly across from another empty chair at one end of the long table. Immediately you pull out your biology notebook and pens, hunkering down and getting to work without further notice. If you couldn’t feel welcomed by the boys at the table, you could at least get some decent studying done. You felt far more familiar with the speciation concepts in front of you than the actual human beings next to you. You allow your head to burrow itself closer to your notebook, dwelling in this small comfort in an environment of unfamiliarities.

The moment of peace doesn’t last long.

“Peaches!” Johnny’s bellowing voice makes you jump in your seat, your beloved biology notes neglected.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” Huh. You’ve heard that voice before. You can’t place where you know it from, but it causes a sneer to form on your face. Glancing up from your notes you can’t help the strangled gasp that leaves your lips.

It’s him. You’d recognize that faded pink hair and smugly complacent upturn of lips anywhere. That, and he’s holding a coffee cup that violently catapults you back to the incident from a few weeks ago in the coffee shop. You left your perfectly good vanilla latte behind because he made you mad, that jerk.

“Oh, Jaehyun.” Jungwoo leads the man to the open seat across from you. Pointing to you, he says, “This is Peaches - I mean, Jaehyun. Jaehyun, this is-”

“-Y/N, right?” Jaehyun interrupts with a grin. You lower your eyes at the dimple that forms when he smiles. “I believe we’ve met before.”

Jungwoo looks from your displeased state to Jaehyun’s smug smirk. “Uh, okay. Cool. Well then. I’m gonna go ahead and grab lunch, I’ll be right back.” You watch as Jungwoo beckons Johnny and Mark to join him, the only three familiar faces present at the table now leaving.

Jaehyun leans back in his chair, arms moving to rest behind his head. “Looks like it’s just the two of us.”

You weigh your options. You could recognize that the two of you have indeed met before, and try to get past your differences. Or, you could refuse to acknowledge Jaehyun’s presence a mere few feet across from you at the table and try your best to study until Jungwoo returned with your food, at which point you would then flee the scene as fast as your non-athlete self could. Only one of these outcomes enticed you, and it wasn’t the one that involved talking.

“So, Y/N,” Jaehyun leans forward. The width of the table is enough to keep him at a safe distance from you, yet he’s still close enough to invade your personal space somehow. It’s suffocating, how whatever musky cologne he’s wearing wafts over to you - he smells nothing like peaches. “How’s your day been?”

“Fine.” You keep your eyes glued to your biology notes. Allopatric Speciation occurs when two populations of the same species become isolated from one another due to-

“Aw, just fine? That’s it?” His voice is low. With Jungwoo, Johnny, and Mark out getting food, you’ve been isolated at one end of the table with Jaehyun. Lucas and Sicheng are present as well, but both seem to be deeply immersed in their own studies. It’s just the two of you.

“Yep.” Allopatric Speciation occurs when two populations of the same species-

“C’mon, I’m sure someone like you has had at least one interesting thing happen today.”

Allopatric Speciation occurs when - Someone like you? What was that supposed to mean? You sigh, but refuse to look up from your notes. Allopatric Speciation-

“Are you a first year? I took that class last year. If you ever want notes or something-” Jaehyun jumps a little when you slam the notebook shut. Good. Serves him right.

“I don’t like you, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the end of his lips. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

He leans in by resting his forearms on the table, leveling his gaze with yours. “I don’t think you do.”

“You know what I think? I think you’re distracting me.”

Jungwoo comes back at the most opportune time, wielding a kabob skewer in each hand - one untouched and the other halfway eaten. “One chicken kabob for Y/N.”

Deeming the conversation with Jaehyun at its end, you stand up from your seat and grab your backpack from the table. Jaehyun fixes you with an intense gaze but remains silent. Whether he was sizing you up or not you didn’t care.

The tension is palpable at the table, and Jungwoo clears his throat. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” you respond quickly. Grabbing your food from Jungwoo, you give him an apologetic smile. “Something came up. I gotta go. Sorry, Kim. See you tomorrow?”

You despise this man. You don’t even know Jaehyun - he is nothing but a familiar stranger - but you despise him. Him and his ethereal appearance. Why were the terrible ones always the ones blessed with above average looks? Why’d he have to open his mouth?

“Wait.” You do not, in fact, wait, but instead continue marching forward. It’s not until the figure stands right in front of you do you stop. It’s Jaehyun. Holding your biology notebook in the air. “Don’t want to leave anything behind. Like last time, right?”

The last few words out of his mouth have your blood boiling and your fists clenching at your sides. That explained the foreign lightness of the bag on your shoulder.

“Oh, right, the vanilla latte.” You fake a cordial laugh. “You mean the time I was so desperate to get away from your insufferable presence that I left behind a perfectly good coffee? The time when you treated that girl as if she wasn’t a human being? That time you couldn’t be a decent enough human being that you were that disrespectful to someone you didn’t even know?”

Jaehyun stands before you with an astonished smile and a hand frozen in the air. You pluck the notebook out of his grasp and stride away before he has a chance to respond.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N,” Jaehyun calls.

“I’ll see you around my ass,” you mutter under your breath. You’re willing to go out of your way to avoid interactions with Jaehyun, no matter what it takes.

a/n 2: hope you enjoyed part one of this series! it’s been a while since i last posted a fic on here so i apologize for my rusty writing skills. part 2 is projected to be posted in one week from now, but that’s tentative. we’ll see where life takes me and if i have the capacity to post in a week from now. in the meantime: stay safe! 💕

#cznnet #jung jaehyun fic #jung jaehyun nct #jung jaehyun scenarios #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fic #jaehyun nct #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun #nct fluff #nct fic #nct scenarios

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shijiujun · 3 years

Text

[ENG] History3: Trapped Novel - Chapter Nine

Translation Masterpost can be found here

Disclaimer: Translations are entirely mine - these are not official translations and some phrases have been changed for better English interpretation so you’ll definitely see better/different translations elsewhere. Also keeping in mind when we translated this we aren’t exactly thinking about the style of writing and this translation is as close to the novel as we can make it XD So yes, some parts may be a little awkward to read. And yes some teeny weeny details and words may not turn up in the translation because the Chi to Eng mind acrobatics didn’t work out. If you see asterisks, scroll all the way to the bottom for notes!

Full chapter below the cut

Note: JFC I AM FINALLY DONE WITH THIS DAMN THING, BYE H3T NOVEL CRIES I DONT WANT TO BE PLAGUED BY THIS ANYMORE HAHAHA - Also give the masterpost a few hours, I need to update the new links with my new username ARGH - History3:Trapped novel translations are now COMPLETED (with the exception of terrible sex scenes).

This was a muchhhh longer chapter than usual (more than 30 pages) + gosh I have a lot of things to say about the sex scenes because they’re just totally not logical but never mind I’m glad to like be done with this hahaha. It’s dragged on for long enough!

---

Chapter Nine

Inside the abandoned warehouse

Chen Wen Hao and Tang Yi have their guns trained on each other, and at the same time, they are staring at Shao Fei in shock, who just said ‘Chen Wen Hao is your father’.

“Don’t panic, the evidence is in my pocket.”

Shao Fei holds up both his hands, and then slowly reaches into the pocket of his jacket with one, pulling out two pieces of paper folded together, and looks at Tang Yi and Chen Wen Hao.

“One of these is the birth certificate from the hospital, and the other is the note you wrote to Li Zhen-jie.”

Chen Wen Hao’s expression morphs entirely, and then he turns to his henchmen and says, “All of you go outside and wait for me.”

The men guarding Chen Wen Hao’s safety put down their guns and then head outside to the open space outside of the warehouse.

“The both of you put down your guns first, so you won’t regret in case you misfire, and then listen to me finish speaking, okay?”

Both men in confrontation with each other exchange looks, and then keep their weapons at the same time.

Shao Fei heaves a sigh of relief, and continues explaining, “I found these two things in Li Zhen-jie’s belongings, and I also went to Tang Yi’s adoptive father to confirm it. Tang Yi, you were born on 21st October 1990, and Chen Wen Hao, you began serving your sentence in February 1990, and when Li Zhen-jie went to visit you, the date was 17th May 1990.”

Realising what this means, Chen Wen Hao’s eyes go wide, and he mumbles, “It cannot be… this is impossible… Li Zhen told me she aborted our child, so it can’t be…”

In the third month of pregnancy, the mother will begin to feel nauseous and most due dates are calculated 266 days after confirmation of the pregnancy date, that means if Li Li Zhen was already pregnant before Chen Wen Hao entered prison, then the expected due date indeed would have fallen somewhere in October.

Chen Wen Hao rushes over suddenly, gripping at Shao Fei’s shirt collar tight, “Are you using this to make me spare Tang Yi because you knew Li Zhen visited me in jail before?”

Shao Fei is almost entirely breathless from the tight grip, but still continues with his answer, the closest thing to the truth after piecing all the clues together, “I don’t know what Li Zhen-jie said to you in jail when she met you, all I know is that after she visited you, she applied for a year long break, and this is unusual for a workaholic like her.”

“And after she returned to her post, she never once applied for long leaves and did not get married either, so there’s only one possibility left. Tang Yi, is yours and Li Zhen-jie’s son.”

“Son… I have a son… a son…” Chen Wen Hao repeats dumbly, loosening his grip on Shao Fei’s shirt collar.

As if juxtaposing Chen Wen Hao’s helplessness at this moment, Tang Yi seems as cold and calm as he always is, “So what if this is true?”

“Tang Yi, Li Zhen-jie may not be a good mother, but she was loving you in her own way. When you ran away from home when you were 12, she immediately went South to search for you, but still lost all clues of where you went.”

Tang Yi’s lips curve up in a sneer, “I only have three family members in this life. My adoptive mother, Tang-ye and Hong Ye. Everyone else are unrelated strangers to me.”

“Tang Yi…” Shao Fei softly calls his name, his heart aching as he looks at Tang Yi’s expression, trying to suppress the pain.

“Tang-ye is the most important person in my life, he is my father… and you, you’re only a murderer who took him away from my side!”

He says the word ‘murderer’ through gritted teeth, slides his gun out from his waist, and points it at the murderer he managed to draw out after four years. Seeing this, Shao Fei immediately puts himself in front of the gun.

“No, I didn’t kill him. I didn’t.”

Chen Wen Hao has not yet calmed from the emotions of guilt he is feeling, and then he looks at his son who’s pointing a gun at him, shocked.

“You’re lying!” Tang Yi looks at the man in front of him angrily. “I remember your face very clearly, you’re the one who killed Tang-ye, it’s you!”

“It’s true that I was there to look for Tang Guo Dong, because I wanted to question him, to ask him why he had to sabotage me like this? But I didn’t kill him. When I reached the scene I only saw him pass something to Li Zhen, and then there were two gunshots, and they fell to the ground, their blood spilling out…”

Chen Wen Hao has his face in his hands, filled with guilt and anguish.

“If you’re not the murderer then why are you trying to have me silenced? Why did you bring a gun there?”

“I’d only just witnessed them being shot and then I saw you, if it you were me, wouldn’t you take your gun out to defend yourself? As for that gun… yes, I wanted to kill him. These twenty years, I hanged on because of my hatred for Tang Guo Dong, and now you’re telling me, the person that I’ve wanted revenge on is not Tang Guo Dong’s bastard son, but my son? I don’t even know who I should vent my hatred on now, why did my life turn into this?”

“Are you done?” Tang Yi immediately unlocking the safety on his gun, and then to Shao Fei who is blocking his way, he snarls, “Get out of the way!”

The person in front of him does not move, however, raising his chin instead and staring at Tang Yi head-on, “If the murderer really is Chen Wen Hao, then why would he have stayed put after he killed them? Besides, even if he did have a reason to kill Tang Guo Dong, he definitely wouldn’t have killed Li Zhen-jie.”

“…”

At the flawless argument, even through his anger, Tang Yi finds himself frozen to the spot, before he finally lets his right hand, which is holding onto the gun, fall back to his side.

“Chen Wen Hao, I’m not taking your life (now), and when I find evidence to prove that you are the murderer, I will kill you myself!”

Once he’s done, he turns and leaves.

“Tang Yi!”

Shao Fei quickly chases after him, and attempts to hug him from the back to calm down the man whose emotions are teetering on the edge of a breakdown, but the other shakes him off, hard.

“Meng Shao Fei! You know how long I have been waiting for this day, why did you stop me? Why?”

“Because he’s not the murderer.”

“You!”

With his raised arm, the fist that is about to descend is retracted at the last moment, and instead lands heavily on the car engine’s top, the sound deafening. He then pushes away the Shao Fei who stopped him repeatedly previously, sitting in the driver’s seat and stepping on the accelerator, leaving the long-time abandoned warehouse at high speeds.

“Tang Yi…”

Shao Fei follows after him shakily, and can only watch the other drive away, standing in the same spot.

Tang household

The door is slowly pushed open to reveal a room shrouded in darkness. A man sits unmoving like a statue at the end of the bed, and with an aching heart, Shao Fei walks over, opening his arms to embrace the angry and anguished Tang Yi.

“I’m sorry… I know it’s hard for you to accept this…”

This is why when he discovered the truth, he was hesitant, because the truth would hurt the person he cares about the most.

“I don’t care if Chen Wen Hao is my biological father or not, only Tang-ye is the most important person in my life.”

“I know, so all the more we need to find the real murderer, right? Ah-“

Tang Yi pulls Shao Fei onto the bed with force, using his firm chest to cover Shao Fei’s back.

“If you don’t want this, push me away.”

The hot puff of breath coming straight from his throat comes into contact with a spot behind Shao Fei’s ear, and this is the last chance he’s giving his partner to flee from him.

Shao Fei is pressed face first on the bed, and he can even feel the other’s hardness at his butt, “I’m drenched in sweat all over, how about you let me go take a shower first… mmn…”

He’s flipped over and with his face turned up, Shao Fei looks at Tang Yi in a room that is not illuminated by any lights except for the moonlight.

Their breaths become increasingly harsh, and through their tightly pressed bodies, they can feel the other’s breaths and heartbeats with every rise of their chests.

Tang Yi supports his weight with a hand against the bed, and looks at the person lying down, “Push me away, or shall I continue? You pick one.”

The ends of Shao Fei’s mouth curve, and then he reaches up to grip at the man’s shirt, tugging him downwards until he’s right in front of him.

He answers, “Continue.”

—

“Tang Yi…”

Their tightly pressed lips slide across each other’s, the dryness turning wet with the saliva coming from the sides of the mouths, and Shao Fei never once realised that he had such an intense thirst for making love.

But perhaps he was wrong, because the other person wasn’t the person meant for him, and just like before, he never thought that one day, he would fall in love with another man. A man who’s built exactly like him.

“Sss… ha….”

Deeply inhaling after exhaling the carbon dioxide in the lobes of his lungs through the gaps between his teeth, he emits a sound left to everyone’s imaginations.

Tang Yi loosens the hands cupped around the sides of Shao Fei’s face, and gazes deeply at the eyes which have chased after him for the past four years, unwilling to give up.

“What’re you looking at me for?”

Shao Fei wants to flee, and yet cannot help but fall into himself that he sees (reflected) in Tang Yi’s eyes. How contradictory. Is this what loving someone else is like? It’s like holding a raw egg in the palm of his hands, afraid of losing grip if he holds on too lightly, but also afraid to crush it if he holds on too tightly. His heart is just like a dandelion floating in the air. It flies with the breeze from time to time, and lands without the help of the wind.

“Thankfully, I didn’t kill you then.”

He does not deny that there were a few times, Tang Yi wanted to make the cumbersome thing that was Shao Fei disappear with the simplest but also most violent way, and he is thankful to the him who decided to change his mind, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to have Meng Shao Fei in the future. At this moment, this is a Meng Shao Fei he cannot bear to let go.

Shao Fei’s mouth curves in a smile, and he compliments himself, “What a pity it would have been to kill me, you would have one less person to argue with you, and no one would point out your flaws right in your face, like I do!”

Tang Yi once again kisses the mouth that is still moving, but it’s different this time as the kiss is deeper, hotter.

“Hmm… Tang… Tang Yi…”

The tongue that slid into his mouth is exploring every inch and sensitive crevice, making sure that Shao Fei is filled with his own scent inside and out.

His competitive spirit is piqued, and Shao Fei unceremoniously returns the favour with equal fervour. His hands reach out towards Tang Yi’s back, and he tightens his hold behind the other’s neck. Pushing the tongue that’s marking its territory inside his mouth back into Tang Yi’s own mouth, he draws out the other man’s desire more passionately.

“Hnn…”

A satisfied moan sounds from his throat, akin to the purrs of a large-sized cat.

Changing the direction of their kiss endlessly, they don’t stop until they slowly run out of breath. Tang Yi’s smile is indulgent, his thumb swiping at the saliva stained on Shao Fei’s lips.

“I’ve underestimated you after all.”

Thinking that Tang Yi is praising the way he took initiative in the kiss earlier, Shao Fei smugly answers, “This is nothing, I’m like this, once I’ve decided on something, I definitely will get it.”

“No, what I mean is, I definitely underestimated you-“

Tang Yi grabs the wrist of the other’s dominant right hand and guides it to the lower half of his body until Shao Fei’s palm is pressed against the part of his body which has already hardened in reaction, before answering fully.

“-how much you tempt me.”

“…”

Because of this, Shao Fei’s ears turn red immediately, obviously visible on both sides of his face.

“What about you?”

“Don’t, don’t say anymore!”

He immediately curls backwards but is unable to avoid the palm that is already pressed against that spot between his legs, separated by the material of his light blue denim jeans. On the already hardened spot, Tang Yi rubs, his hand moving up and down.

“You’re hard too.”

Tang Yi’s tone reveals delight as he says this. Knowing that it is not only just his one-sided attraction to the man, Tang Yi grabs onto the hardened member under Shao Fei’s pants with pride, feeling Shao Fei’s thirst for him and also coming clean with how much he wants Shao Fei.

“Of course, it’d be weird if I wasn’t hard from our intense kiss earlier.”

Shao Fei turns his face away out of embarrassment at having his cock caressed like this under his jeans, but ends up revealing his red ears to Tang Yi. As a predator, just like a large feline creature, Tang Yi naturally is not willing to miss out on this opportunity, and so he opens his mouth and with his sharp teeth, he targets Shao Fei’s left ear, and bites down.

“A-hah!” Shao Fei startles at the pain, inadvertently making a pornographic sound.

A tongue delves into Shao Fei’s sensitive ear, and the wet sounds as Tang Yi licks at his skin causes his member to fully harden.

“Tang… Tang Yi…”

“Hmm?”

Tang Yi responds to the other’s soft call in a deep, nasal tone lazily, his sharp teeth rubbing against the soft spots of Shao Fei’s ear. This thrill, which he both anticipates and is afraid of, makes Shao Fei’s body shudder again and again.

“You… can’t be…” he swallows, then asks, testing the waters, “…thinking of topping me, can you?”

Sexual intercourse between two men means that one of them has to be on the receiving end, unlike sex between a male and a female, where the male is always the one driving the desire of the other.

“If not? You want to top me?” Tang Yi asks, laughing as he frees Shao Fei’s left ear from his teeth, and turning Shao Fei’s face towards himself.

“Who said that I must definitely be under you? I can-“

“Shh,” Tang Yi says, his eyes curved as he puts up a finger to Shao Fei’s lips.

“Of course I’ll be topping you, because I began loving you way before your confession on the hospital rooftop.”

“When?”

“The abandoned hut in the mountains, do you remember? The things you said to me.”

“Tang Yi, you genuinely want to leave the underworld and that’s why you’re trying to reform, right?”

“I’m using this as a ruse and pretending to go legal, but in actual fact I am-“

“My bad, I was too full of myself to just think you were like that… Tang Yi, I’m sorry!”

“…”

“Hey, I’ve already said so much, you should at least give me a response?”

“This is the first time I’ve seen a monkey capable of reflecting on himself.”

“Hey! Who’re you calling a monkey? I’m telling you, even if you are sincere in wanting to reform I will still be watching you. As long as you use any illegal methods, I will still arrest you and throw you into jail!”

“You’ll keep watching me?”

“Yes! Watching you! Using both my eyes to watch you!”

“Okay, then I’ll let you always, always, always watch me.”

“From then on, I realised that when I look at you, I experience a different kind of emotion.”

It was just that at that time, he still did not understand that this was a sign of a budding love quietly planting itself his heart.

“It was then,” Shao Fei looks at Tang Yi in disbelief.

He thought he was fated for a rejection after having loved Tang Yi first, and in the end, the person who fell in love first was actually Tang Yi.

“Okay! I admit defeat, I’ll let you top me.”

There is no winning or losing in love, there is only whether he is willing or not. And he is both willing and accepting of this.

“Don’t worry and give yourself to me, I definitely won’t disappoint you with my skills.”

—

“Ah…. Hah��.”

Shao Fei sits at the head of the Super King bed, biting at his bottom as he watches Tang Yi, who has his face buried in the lower half of his body. The man is like a devout follower, crouching between his separated legs, which have long been divested of his jeans and underwear, thrown to the floor next to the bed. Just like how they do it in dramas, whenever sex happens, the floor is always littered with clothing items.

“If you’re uncomfortable, remember to tell me.”

After the reminder, Tang Yi once again buries his head between Shao Fei’s legs, gripping onto his upright member and using his tongue to lick at the sensitive head.

“Ahah…” Shao Fei opens his mouth and inhales at this.

He’s never had a girlfriend and could only ever use both his hands to satisfy his desires. Even though he has seen this image thousands of times, he has only been able to see this on several unsavoury sites. Who knew that when he is surrounded by someone’s mouth, the feeling would be this pleasurable. Being licked by a wet tongue triumphs over the satisfaction he feels when he masturbates by hand.

“Tang… Tang Yi…”

He can only call the other’s name repeatedly, just like a child who has just learnt to speak, his mind going increasingly hot, speechless.

“Hnn, mnn-hmm…”

Tang Yi retracts his tongue and then swallows the hard organ whole. Although Shao Fei’s size is not huge, it still fills up every crevice of his mouth.

“Ahah… oh god… oh god…”

His hardened member is suddenly engulfed by a hot and wet place and as it ventures deeper and deeper into the mouth, and because of Tang Yi’s gag reflex leading to the uncontrollable contractions of the throat, his red tip is being tightly squeezed. The pleasure rushes up suddenly from his groin, and he almost has an out-of-body experience from this.

His ten fingers are curled up in Tang Yi’s hair; he wants to push away the head that is making repeated bobbing motions, but is also unable to resist pressing the back of Tang Yi’s head forward whenever he moves downwards, all to get further into the deeper parts of his mouth.

The pressure on the back of Tang Yi’s head is too forceful, but Tang Yi resists his gag reflex from having this hard cock down his throat with only a furrow of his brows, as he continues to draw out Shao Fei’s pleasure.

“Ah… Ahah… Ahah….”

Not enough, it’s not enough!

He wants more, he wants it deeper, he wants to feel even greater pleasure!

His brain and loud thoughts drive Shao Fei’s body to lift up his waist and send his member into the deepest part of Tang Yi’s throat as he presses on the back of the other’s head.

“Mmhm-“

“Ahah… ahah… ah-“

The lines between Shao Fei’s eyebrows deepen as he gradually loses control over his movements. Tang Yi does not stop Shao Fei’s almost-violent motions until Shao Fei loses himself entirely in a thrust and shouts, a thick liquid spilling into his mouth.

Finally spent, his raised hips naturally drop back onto the bed in its original position, and the movement has his softened member sliding out of Tang Yi’s mouth after his release.

Tang Yi turns over, opening his mouth and coughing incessantly to expel the mixture of cum and saliva lodged deep in the back of his throat. It drips onto the floor next to he bed, sliding down Tang Yi’s mouth and jaw.

“Tang Yi! Tang Yi are you okay?”

After Shao Fei calms his harsh breaths, he finally realises how despicable his earlier actions were and immediately sits up. Feeling guilty, his arm goes around Tang Yi’s shoulder as he looks at the man he loves, hurting for him.

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

Tang Yi lifts his left arm and wipes away the traces of Shao Fei’s release left on his mouth and jaw, then seriously says, “As long as it’s something you want to do, I will not stop you.”

It doesn’t matter if it was Shao Fei’s relentless chase throughout the past four years, or his almost violent actions during sex.

“You! Damn it!”

Tightly clenched fists strike against the soft bed, and his heart lurches, biting at his lower lip. Then, Shao Fei hooks his hands around Tang Yi’s neck as they fall backwards, hard.

The bed makes a twinge of protest at the force of their weights.

Tang Yi stares at Shao Fei who’s trapped under him, waiting for the other to tell him why he’s acting like that.

“Tang Yi you listen to me! No matter how much I say it hurts later, you’re not allowed to stop. I want to use everything I have, and love you fully!”

The ends of Tang Yi’s mouth curve upwards, and then seductively he says, “If you dare to seduce me, then you must be responsible for putting out the fire.”

“Who’s scared of who? At most I will just ask for leave from the station tomorrow!”

“Meng Shao Fei…”

“What?”

“Remember to call in sick for a few more days.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m very certain that when you’re able to leave this bed, it’ll be at least two days later.”

“Fuck! Mmm-hmm-“

Tang Yi, I regret it already! Let me go!

Tang Yi!

—

“Remove your hands!” Tang Yi orders, glaring at Shao Fei who is using his hands to cover his face.

“I don’t want… it’s… hah…. it’s so embarrassing…”

His ankles are caught in Tang Yi’s hands, his legs spread wide and his butt lifted up as Tang Yi’s cock forcefully thrusts inwards, emitting wet sounds. Because this position allows him to clearly see this secret spot, a spot which his fingers have never come into contact with in the past 30 years, and yet it is this very same spot that is being driven hard into repeatedly by another man’s hardened cock.

“Ah… ah…. Tang Yi… you… don’t…. you’re too much… a…hah…”

Damn it! How is this guy’s stamina so good?

“Remove your hands!” Tang Yi frowns.

He likes seeing the way Shao Fei’s face is flushed red because of him, the expression he’s making as he is in trapped the depths of lovemaking, out of control.

“Ah-ah!”

Another deep thrust and Shao Fei cries out even louder than before.

“Meng Shao Fei!”

He warns in a low growl. On this planet, it is only this person who would dare to oppose him twice in a row.

“Ahah… jerk… Tang Yi you’re a fucking jerk-“

Shao Fei removes his hands from his face, and with what he thinks is a fierce gaze, he glares at the man who’s thrusting into his body. Tang Yi licks at the corner of his mouth and smiles, satisfied, “It’s a really nice expression, why would you hide it?”

His hips are aching and his legs hurt from the intense workout, and Shao Fei doesn’t know that what he thinks is a powerful frightening expression, looks like a tiny cat with its claws out to Tang Yi. Cute, and it makes Tang Yi want to bite him, hard. And so he does as he wishes, loosening the hold he has around Shao Fei’s ankles, letting both of Shao Fei’s legs fall back onto the bed, and then he lowers his body and bites hard on Shao Fei’s left nipple.

“Hmm… you… you bit me!!”

“Only you, Meng Shao Fei, would dare to let me repeat the same instruction thrice.”

With both hands on each side of Shao Fei’s waist, and different from the heavy and intense thrusts from earlier, Tang Yi settles into a slower rhythm. In this tightly filled channel, Tang Yi’s cock is well lubricated with the help of pre-cum left inside, and with the tip of his alarmingly-sized member, he unceremoniously strikes against Shao Fei’s prostate.

He drives Shao Fei’s pleasure towards the peak again and again, but before he can truly reach it, Tang Yi would retreat. Shao Fei, who is pressed under him, is just like that rock which is endlessly pushed by Hercules in Greek mythology as he is unable to obtain the highest pleasure from this.

“Hah… hah-ah… Tang Yi you… you… purposely… ha-ah, you purposely-“

“It’s so difficult to serve Officer Meng. If I fuck you too hard, you say you’re embarrassed, and now that I’m fucking you slowly, you say it’s not enough. Unless… this body, instead of me treating it gently, you wish for me to torture you mercilessly?”

“Shut… shut up…”

Absolutely not intending to admit that he does indeed want to be fucked hard, into his deepest parts, Shao Fei is almost driven insane by this slow friction. Biting at his lips and staring at the evil man, he curses him in the back of his mind, and then suddenly hugs his arms around Tang Yi’s neck, using a grappling technique to hook his legs behind Tang Yi’s back.

Tang Yi squints, looking at Shao Fei, who has attacked him with such a move.

“Damn it! Since you won’t move, I’ll move!”

With that said, he lifts his butt upwards and takes the initiative to ride Tang Yi’s cock with his soft entrance. Although it’s very tiring and almost impossible for him, it at least makes him feel good.

“Ha… ah…. ah…..”

Using his hole to rub against the hard member, Shao Fei finally finds the uncomfortable sensation being alleviated. But… it’s not enough…

“Ah-ah… Tang Yi… help me… hurry up and help me… It’s not… enough like this… ah…hah… it’s not enough….”

“Beg me.”

“I beg you, I beg…”

“Beg me to fuck you?”

“Yes… I can’t, I can’t take it anymore, hurry…. hurry up and fuck me, fuck me hard, ah-ah…”

Shao Fei shakes his head, scattering the hair strands on his forehead, stuck there by sweat.

Finally hearing the other man’s initiative, his hands lock around Shao Fei’s waist, and then Tang Yi thrusts heavily into the spot that will make Shao Fei cry out the loudest.

—

Having completed their intense lovemaking, both men lie on the bed on their sides facing each other.

“I can’t, I’m going to sleep first, goodnight,” Shao Fei yawns, and then shuts his eyes.

“Sleep then! Goodnight.”

Tang Yi looks at his lover’s face, and recalls what Tang-ye said to him before…

“Xiao Tang, one of these days there’ll be that person that will make you understand what a marvellous feeling it is to live a simple and normal life.”

At that time, he didn’t believe Lao Tang’s words at all. To him, being normal means allowing oneself to be bullied, and he does not want to be bullied anymore. Thus, he needs to become stronger, until no one dares to hinder his way and stop him from doing what he wants to do.

“Tang Yi! I’m chasing you for life!”

But there is indeed one such person, who stumbled his way into his tightly guarded heart, who said this to him standing on the hospital’s rooftop as he pointed at him.

“Tang Yi.”

“Hmm?”

“Can you give me a wish?”

“Okay.”

“I wish that I will be at your side for every birthday from now on, and with me around, you’ll no longer be alone.”

He thought it would be a lonely birthday, but instead he received a cake that made him so touched, a cake made personally by Shao Fei, even though it didn’t look very nice. And…

The third birthday wish, promising the rest of his life to Tang Yi.

“Lao Tang, I finally believe in what you said.”

Tang Yi’s mouth curves in a faint smile. He caresses at Shao Fei’s lips with his finger, and repeats what he said told Shao Fei before…

“Meng Shao Fei, you made my life so different. You made me experience warmth again, so I hope you live on well, for my sake.”

“Also, I love you. I really, really, love you.”

At a riverbank

“Why did you arrange to meet?” Yan Zheng Qiang asks, his back facing another person who is approaching from behind him.

“I just wanted to tell Sir that my previous mission is over.”

The man with red hair responds to the other person standing at the riverbank with a seemingly harmless smile on his face. Yan Zheng Qiang turns, and considers Jack, who has delivered a USB into his hands.

“This includes all of Xing Tian Meng’s information, and also what you care about the most, Chen Wen Hao’s current list of deals and channels.”

“The information has been verified?”

“Of course.”

“You’re as good as expected, it’s not a waste of the station to hire you at high costs.”

Jack smiles and accepts the other’s compliment, then says, “Since this mission is already over, let’s talk about our next one, I believe Interpol will be very interested in this.”

“I’m listening.”

“Chen Wen Hao’s actual battle place, a complete set of information from Cambodia.”

Yan Zheng Qiang’s eyes narrows as he looks at Jack in disbelief, “These few years, despite having worked with the Cambodian government, we have been unable to penetrate this drug channel. Chen Wen Hao has planned everything well and has corrupted both the good and bad in the region, just you alone, you’ll be able to reach in?”

“If it’s just me, of course I wouldn’t have any solution, but it’s a different matter altogether if Chen Wen Hao personally invites me in.”

“For a mercenary who does as he’s paid, you’re actually giving up the interests laid out before your eyes?”

Jack shrugs and smiles, “It can’t be helped. Who asked me to have a liking for thrilling challenges, and I get more intrigued by things that are more difficult to obtain. Don’t worry, since I have taken the initiative to cooperate on this, the price is negotiable, as long as you deal with Xing Tian Meng for me, I will be able to help you infiltrate this channel. How’s that, are we good on this deal? Or not?”

Yan Zheng Qiang thinks about this for a bit, and then reaches out with his right hand, “Okay, we will be responsible for dealing with the aftermath of your leaving Xing Tian Meng, and I hope you will be able to give us more information of the drug trafficking deals in Southeast Asia.

Jack returns the handshake, and smiles, “No problem, sir, may our cooperation be pleasant.”

—

“If the murderer from four years ago is not Chen Wen Hao, then who is it?” Zhao Zi mumbles to himself dejectedly as he walks on the road, having just left work at the station.

“Shorty, is there gold on the floor? Aren’t you afraid of hitting something if you walk with your head down like that?”

Having just looked up, he sees Jack squatting at his doorstep, and who knows how long he has been waiting here?

“Why’re you here?”

Jack stands up, pinching at the other’s cheek, and teases, “I wanted to see you, so I came.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t have the mood to joke with you today.”

“I’m very serious, shorty…” Jack loosens the grip he has on the other’s cheek and his tone is suddenly somber, “if I can’t come and see you for a period of time, will you miss me?”

Frightened, Zhao Zi’s eyes go wide as he looks about his surroundings anxiously, “What did you do? Was it something illegal?”

“I can’t say and I don’t want to implicate you in this,” Jack shakes his head, his mouth curving up in a forced smile.

At this, Zhao Zi is even more certain that Jack has done something bad that he can be arrested for, and immediately takes out his keys to open the door without paying the person next to him any mind.

“You haven’t answered my question from earlier-“

Jack has only just opened his mouth and is immediately dragged into the house, the other covering his mouth, and as they walk, Zhao Zi says in a low voice, “Hey! Speak softer, what if you’re found out by someone else? Damn it, you still dare to come to me after having done something illegal, did you forget that I’m a police officer, and all my colleagues are policer officers? I can let you hide for a night, but tomorrow you have to leave first thing in the morning.”

“Pfft!!!”

Jack pulls down the palm covering his mouth and with a tug, he brings the man into his embrace and kisses at his cheek.

“Hurry up and answer me. If i left, would you miss me? And do you like me or not?”

Zhao Zi does not reply, and quietly closes the door with reddened ears.

Police station rooftop

Shi Da Pao sits on the rooftop of the station by himself, his mouth biting at a cigarette as he stares at the moon-less sky. Around his feet on the ground, several cigarette butts lay, and it’s apparent that he has been sitting here for a while now.

“Whoo…”

Another heavy exhale of white smoke leaves his mouth.

The wallet he has between his fingertips holds a photo of his daughter when she was younger, and every time he was tired at work he would open his wallet and look at it a few times, thinking about how he would be able to see her run to him happily when he get home, and with her arms raised, she would shout, “Daddy, a hug!”

No matter how much pressure he was under, everything was easily forgotten. His daughter is his power bank, always giving him power which is full of love and hope.

“Xiao Ya… Daddy is sorry, he is sorry…”

On the protective plastic cover over the photo, teardrops continue to fall one after the other.

He then wipes away the teardrops on the plastic film and shuts the wallet with the photo inside, and then throws the last cigarette onto the ground. He gets to his feet and uses the bottom of his shoe to stamp out the cigarette and then leaves the rooftop as a cool breeze blows over him.

He heads downstairs and walks into the floor with the label ‘Inspections Team’.

Tang household

“Good, good morning.”

Finally having the strength to leave the bed, Shao Fei sees Tang Yi who is already preparing breakfast when he walks into the kitchen, and immediately shifts his gaze, greeting Tang Yi awkwardly.

“Are you still okay?”

Tang Yi looks up and sees the other person who has one hand pressed at his waist as he pulls a chair at the dining table back and sits down, and Tang Yi’s mouth curves upwards.

“Great, I’m great, I’m totally reinvigorated and filled with energy- sss….”

Wanting to pretend that everything is fine, Shao Fei has only just straightened his back when that spot begins to throb, after having been put through the grinder the previous night.

“Officer Meng’s stamina is not bad.”

“Of course.”

“Then next time I don’t have to be considerate towards your body, and can do it until I’m satisfied.”

“What? You did it twice yesterday and you’re still not satisfied?”

With a red face, Shao Fei looks at the Xing Tian Meng leader in alarm, who after doing so many things to him, could not only carry him to the bathroom to clean him up, but also wake up bright and early in the morning to make breakfast.

Tang Yi’s smile deepens as he places the already made breakfast in front of his lover, and then opens the fridge to take out a coke, placing it on the table. Then, he pulls out a chair and sits down opposite Shao Fei.

“Tang Yi…”

Shao Fei observes the other’s reaction, and after hesitating for quite a while, he opens his mouth finally, “If you find the murderer before me, please hand him over to me, and don’t put me in a difficult position between my relationship and duty to my profession.”

If Tang Yi kills someone, then he will be a criminal who must face the punishment of law, and as a police officer enforcing said laws, Shao Fei will have to arrest him.

Tang Yi looks up and watches this man, who aside from his adoptive mother, Tang-ye and Hong Ye, is the fourth person whose life is more important than his own, and changes the topic, “Head to work after you’re done eating!”

“Tang Yi…”

Shao Fei wants to try and persuade him again, but he’s interrupted by a Jack who has just walked into the kitchen.

“Boss, we caught He Hang.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

Tang Yi, in the moment he gets up and leaves the table, is immediately caught by the man seated opposite him.

“Leave it to the police!”

Looking at the other’s determined gaze, Tang Yi sighs, and removing Shao Fei’s hand, he says, “All i can promise you is to send him to you while he’s alive.”

“…”

Shao Fei watches as Jack and Tang Yi leave together, and then the phone he has in his pocket rings. The moment he picks up, he hears Zhao Zi’s panicked and rushed voice.

“Zhao Zi what is it? What? You said laoda turned himself in at the inspections team?”

Investigative Team Three

“Zhao Zi be clear, what do you mean by laoda turning himself in to the inspections team?”

Shao Fei asks Zhao Zi who is waiting at the door once he sees him, after having rushed from Tang Yi’s house back to the team with his foot stepping aggressively on the accelerator on his way back.

“I’m not sure either, but Jun Wei went to ask, and it seems like laoda admitted that he was secretly involved in the resale of drugs back to the underworld.”

“How is that possible? Why would laoda do that? What’s the motive? What motive does he have?”

“Could it have something to do with Xiao Ya’s surgery give years ago?”

After Zhao Zi says this, everyone descends into silence, and only Yu Qi asks, confused.

“What happened to Xiao Ya, what surgery?”

Zhao Zi looks at his junior and explains what happened five years ago, ‘You only joined the team last year so you don’t know, but Xiao Ya was really sick last time, and what was it…”

“Leukaemia,” Shao Fei continues where Zhao Zi left off. “At that time laoda was almost driven insane from desperation, and there were no matching bone marrows locally. Everyone on the team helped to check if they were matches, but none of us were suitable.”

Standing at the side, Jun Wei sighs, “After finding one for a year, just when everyone thought there was no hope left, laoda suddenly found a matching bone marrow from some other channel, and that’s how he saved Xiao Ya.”

“Could it be that laoda resold the drugs to the underworld because he needed the money to save Xiao Ya?”

Everyone’s expression is somber, silently agreeing with their junior’s deduction.

Then, the phone on the table rings, and Jun Wei rushes over to pick it up, but his face falls when he hears what the latest new update is.

“What is it?”

Jun Wei looks at Shao Fei who has walked over, and answers, “Top brass wants to open a large scale internal investigation, and that another member from the team is involved in the case.”

“Who?”

“Ah Zhi.”

Everyone immediately turns to look at the seat that originally belongs to Zhou Guan Zhi, and Shao Fei becomes uneasy.

“Zhao Zi, where’s Ah Zhi?”

“I haven’t seen him from just now onwards.”

“Go with me to find him at his house.”

“Okay.”

Shao Fei rushes out quickly after finishing what he said, and Zhao Zi swiftly follows, one hand clutched tight around his phone. Seeing her seniors leave so hurriedly, Yu Qi asks Jun Wei, dumbfounded, “First it’s laoda, and then it’s Ah Zhi-ge. We are police officers, right? Our job is to uphold justice, and go after criminals, right? Then why…”

The woman’s eyes go red and she is unable to say anymore. Jun Wei pats at her shoulder with a sigh, unsure how he can reassure the other as well.

Private club, inside a room

“I didn’t think you would come and beg me,” Si He Hui’s leader looks at the bills piled on the table in front of him and says, sarcastic.

Zhou Guan Zhi looks at Lao Ke, his palms sweating, “Ke-san, I know you have contacts, anywhere in Southeast Asia is fine, all I ask is that I am able to leave here as soon as possible.”

“You brought the team to ‘take care’ of me just a while ago, and now you’re begging me? Officer Zhou, you’re trying to fool me, is it?”

“Ke-san, we’ve known each other for more than a decade, and you know exactly how many times I’ve let you go in between, and besides…” Zhou Guan Zhi’s eyes darken, and he hints, “You still have some ‘items’ in my possession, and as long as you arrange for me to leave, I will make sure those things disappear from now onwards.”

Lao Ke side eyes the person sitting in front of him, and laughs, the sound cold, “If it wasn’t because you had no choice but to leave the team you wouldn’t even be here looking for me, so I’m afraid those things you have on me, you won’t be able to use them yourself.”

“You’re right, I won’t have any use for them, but Ke-san don’t forget, my colleagues are still eyeing Si He Hui’s every move, and I’m very sure they will be happy to receive these ‘things’.”

Lao Ke’s expression freezes immediately, and after a moment of hesitation, a smile returns to his face, “Let’s talk it out, let’s talk it out. Fine, I’ll help you this one, but the price…”

“Another 10,000 NTD, I will give after I’m on the boat.”

Zhou Guan Zhi takes out another 10,000 NTD from the backpack he has on him, then puts it back inside.

“No problem, the location and time I will let Officer Zhou know later.”

“Okay.”

After confirming his escape route, Zhou Guan Zhi opens the door and after checking his surroundings to make sure no one is following him, he then walks out of the room with his head down.

Inside the club, Chen Wen Hao is speaking to another man surnamed Wang as they walk out from another room.

“Xiao Wang, I’ll leave finding the person to you.”

“Chen-ye, leave it to me! I’m just very curious, is the person you’re looking for really so important?”

“Very important, and he’s not easy to find because I’ve never seen his face and only remember his back, and it is also an impression from four years ago. Just from these clues, asking you to help me is indeed trouble for you.”

“Chen-ye you stand on too much ceremony with me by saying that, don’t worry! Even if you give me just a single strand of his hair, I will be able to dig him up.”

“Good, then I’ll have to entrust you with this.”

Chen Wen Hao reaches out and somberly shakes the other’s hand. Right at this moment, however, the door to the room in front of them suddenly opens, and Chen Wen Hao casually looks at the other once. Just as he’s about to look away, that person suddenly pulls up the hood on his shirt, and then quickly leaves, his expression full of anxiety.

In that moment, the scene before him aligns with the hazy memory he has from four years ago. He points at the other man and orders, “Get him!”

“Yes.”

His two men rush over immediately from behind him, and restrain the hooded man on the ground.

Outside an apartment

Numerous members from Investigative Team One stand inside Zhou Guan Zhi’s apartment, and plenty of items are scattered all over the ground.

Shao Fei and Zhao Zi have only just reached the door, and before they can say a word, the officer standing outside the door stops them.

“I’m sorry, we are searching through the house right now, so the both of you cannot go in.”

Shao Fei looks at the other and asks, “A search? I’m from Team Three, can I ask what’s the situation right now?”

The man standing at the door side eyes these two officers who have turned up in a hurry, and answers, “Zhou Guan Zhi is suspected to be involved in a homicide case four years ago, and also a drug trafficking case. The warrant for his arrest is out.”

“Homicide? Which one?” Shao Fei persists.

“I’m sorry, due to confidentiality, we are unable to reveal much.”

Zhao Zi tugs at his good friend’s sleeve and says, “Ah Fei, we should leave here first and see if we can find Ah Zhi.”

“Mnn.”

As Shao Fei walks down the stairs, he thinks about what the person just said, and suddenly realises what the last piece of the puzzle of four years ago is…

Five years ago, laoda resold the drugs confiscated by the police because he urgently needed the money for Xiao Ya’s leukaemia treatment, and Zhou Guan Zhi was one of the people involved.

Four years ago, Tang Guo Dong who had begun reforming Xing Tian Meng met up with Li Zhen-jie, and according to what Chen Wen Hao said, Tang Guo Dong once handed over a package to Li Zhen-jie, but after the homicide happened, that package was taken away by the shooter.

And now, Zhou Guan Zhi is involved in a homicide that happened four years ago, and this is related to drug trafficking.

It can’t be-

“I know who the murderer from four years ago is!” Shao Fei shouts at Zhao Zi who’s standing in the stairwell, his feet coming to a stop.

“What? Ah Fei you know?”

“Zhao Zi, I’m going to go find Tang Yi, you hurry head to the station and get some people over, hurry! Any later and we won’t make it!”

“What do you mean by we won’t make it? Ah Fei! Ah Fei!”

With that said, and not caring about Zhao Zi’s calls, he immediately rushes down the stairs. He opens the door to the car he parked in the alleyway and sits in the driver’s seat.

“Tang Yi, you must not do anything foolish!”

Inside the speeding car, Shao Fei frowns as he holds onto the steering wheel, then steps harder on the gas pedal, quickly driving towards Tang Yi’s house.

Tang household

“Tang Yi!”

Shao Fei pushes aside the Xing Tian Meng lackeys that are blocking his way to the living room, and once he goes in, he sees Zhou Guan Zhi with his hands tied behind his back, his face bloodied as he kneels on the ground. In front of him on the table, a picture of Tang Guo Dong and a gun is placed there.

Tang Yi stands next to the table and glares at Tang Guo Dong’s murderer in anger from a higher angle, and then reveals a cruel smirk. His fingers are dripping with Zhou Guan Zhi’s blood.

“Ah Fei! Save me! I beg you please save me!” Zhou Guan Zhi hollers anxiously, seeing that the person who walked in is someone familiar, as if this is his only chance of survival.

“You still don’t intend to tell me the truth? Good, since this mouth is of no use, I shall knock out your teeth one by one.”

Tang Yi cracks his knuckles, the sound of his bones interlocking echoing.

“Tang Yi…”

Shao Fei walks until he’s in front of this man, whose murderous intent is apparent. Looking into his eyes, he tries to calm the person whose emotions are out of control down.

“If you kill him right now, we’ll never know the truth! You let me bring him back to the station to investigate, and I promise I’ll give you the truth back from four years ago.”

“The truth?” Tang Yi sneers, and says, “I don’t need to know the truth, all I need to know is that this is the person who killed Tang-ye and that is enough!”

Shao Fei sighs as he turns around and walks to Zhou Guan Zhi, and from start to end says what he found out.

“Ah Zhi-ge, I already know that the people who released the confiscated drugs from the station is you and laoda. Li Zhen-jie, who has always hated drugs, must have found out about this and so cooperated with Tang Guo Dong to find the internal mole in the station, but they would never have thought that the people she was looking for were the both of you.”

“…”

Zhou Guan Zhi glares at Shao Fei, who has deduced most of what happened, his entire body trembling.

“I just don’t understand, laoda did it to raise the funds needed for Xiao Ya’s medical fees, then what did you do it for? That you needed such a huge sum of money?”

“Gambling debts…”

Shao Fei inhales sharply, his eyes reddening as he looks at his colleague, who he has gone through so much with, and then asks, “Then why did you kill Li Zhen-jie and Tang Guo Dong?”

“I… I didn’t… I didn’t…” the person who still refuses to tell the truth shakes his head vehemently.

Tang Yi picks up the gun on the table and presses it against Zhou Guan Zhi’s forehead, then unlocks the safety. As long as Tang Yi’s index finger moves on the trigger, he will turn into a cold corpse. In the face of the threat of death, Zhou Guan Zhi sobs and yells at the only person who can save him now, Shao Fei, as if mad.

“Yes! It was me! It was me! He Hang told me it was Li Li Zhen and Tang Guo Dong who were cooperating to investigate the people in the station, and he said I would be done for, so I… Ah Fei… please bring me back to the station… I beg you… I don’t want to die here, I really don’t want to die… Ah Fei…”

“Tang Yi, let me bring him back.”

Shao Fei looks at the man, who has blood and tears all over his face, with both disgust and anger. He heads over to Tang Yi’s side and reaches out to press down on the muzzle of the gun pointed at Zhou Guan Zhi’s forehead.

Even though he knows the truth, Shao Fei can barely resist the urge to beat up this man, who he once thought of to be his brother, but as a police officer he has to stick to his duties and the law. This is a line he will not compromise on.

“These four years, all I’ve been thinking of everyday is how to take revenge for Tang-ye!”

“But I can’t watch you kill someone in front of my eyes.”

“Then arrest me!”

Bam!

The sound of a gun firing shocks the three people present in the living room.

Blood drips down his fingertips onto the floor incessantly.

“Don’t.. don’t kill others…”

Shao Fei, who pushed Zhou Guan Zhi aside and dived towards the gun, says weakly as he looks at the man who is holding onto him tightly.

“Why did you have to stop me like this….”

Tears fall uncontrollably onto Shao Fei’s face.

“As long as I can stop you from killing others, I.. it doesn’t matter….”

Wanting to use his usual tone and smile to chase away the shadows cast over the other’s heart at present, Shao Fei is unable to even lift up an arm to wipe away his lover’s tears.

“Meng Shao Fei, you’re the stupidest police officer I’ve ever seen.”

“And that’s why I fell in love with you, is that not?”

Those pale lips curve indulgently, and he turns his head a little, wanting to see the other man’s expression more clearly, but he pulls at the bleeding wound on his right chest.

“Don’t move.”

Tang Yi uses a hand and presses at the gunshot wound, applying pressure to slow down the flow of blood, and at the same time uses his bloodied hand to make a call as he says anxiously, “I need an ambulance here, someone was shot.”

“Meng Shao Fei, you better live on well.”

Shao Fei’s heart cannot bear to see Tang Yi’s tears as they fall continuously onto his face, and looking at the man who has said this through gritted teeth in a threatening tone, it’s as if they have gone back to the days of their first meeting.

That stoic, expressionless Xing Tian Meng leader that no one dares to approach-

-Tang Yi.

#history3: trapped #history 3: 圈套 #history 3: trapped #history3 novel #h3t #tangfei #tang yi #shao fei #translations

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

For the mermay fills: 10 & 22 with indruck? 👁️👁️ (nsfw or sfw)

I went with ten (tattoos/piercings) first, since 22 will be part of another fill. I went with NSFW, and wrote this as a follow-up to my “Heat” fill from last year.

Indrid swims up and down the hall outside the palace infirmary. He’s far from the only one doing so; the reef serpent wreaked havoc through the city before the Chosen mers defeated it. He’s not even the only person waiting to see if Duck is alright.

“Have courage, Prince Indrid Cold!” Minerva, sporting a new gash on her face, clamps her hand down on his shoulder in what he knows is her version of a comforting gesture, “Duck Newton is the strongest Chosen after myself. He will pull through.” The blue of her tentacles flashes with pride.

“Besides” Ned, the castle mer who has, against all odds, become Indrid’s closest advisor, flicks his orange and silver tail “you informed us yourself there were no futures where our friend passed away.”

“I know.” Indrid takes a breath, intending to explain the tangled net of anxiety in his chest. All that comes out is another, “I know.”

Behind him, he hears two nurses murmuring that they’d better bump the prince’s consort up in the line, but before he can turn and order them not to, they’re gone.

It happened like this: Duck kept his word, began courting Indrid properly once the seer's heat passed, and Indrid reciprocated without hesitation. This caused a near scandal; yes, Duck was a Chosen and thus noble to a degree, but Indrid was a prince, and a prized one. Indrid pointed out that he rather liked someone who cared about his welfare, not just his happiness, and if they had an issue with that, that was their problem not his. And so the comments about Duck moved from to his face to behind his back, which he counted as good enough.

Duck found the whole consort business stressful, given that he’d forgone his Chosen destiny in favor of tending the kelp forests specifically to avoid that kind of fanfare and politics. Thus, they steered clear of the castle when they could, spending their time with their friends in town or in the sunken ship Duck called home.

When the serpent attacked their town, Duck discovered the limits of his rejecting his destiny, and joined the fight to save his home. Indrid is proud of him, even if his stomach churns whenever the futures shift and he has to see whether the strings of fate weave a grimmer outcome for the man he loves.

It’s well after moonrise when he’s allowed to see Duck. The other mer is half-asleep in his infirmary bed, a massive bandage on his side and one of his tentacles bitten down to a nub

“Hey darlin” The sleepy drawl is accompanied by the mer opening his arms.

Indrid carefully settles against the non-bandaged side of him, rests his head on his chest with a relieved sigh, “I’m so glad you’re alright. Or, well, mostly alright. You’re in one piece. Sort of. I, I’m not conveying this well.”

“I ain’t dead, given how today went I’m callin that a win. Besides, this’ll grow back in no time.” He wiggles the stub of his tentacle.

“Mmm” Indrid cuddles closer, purring softly as intact tentacles pet his tail and back.

“When’d you last sleep?” Duck murmurs, kissing the top of his head.

“Not since the attack started.”

“Seems to me we’re both due for some shut eye.”

Indrid nods, right before falling asleep and dreaming of strong tentacles and stronger arms.

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

“Guess I gotta get a tattoo now.” Duck studies the scar on his side, his bandages having permanently come off this morning.

“I suppose so. Though, if you’ve avoided so many other parts of Chosen protocol, I fail to see how skipping this one will make things worse.”

“I dunno, I kinda like this one. Used to strike me as macho bullshit, showin off how many battle scars you got. But now...makes me think of how when the forest gets trashed by a storm, or a huge-ass monster tearin through it, there’s a certain kind of pleasure that comes from watchin it heal, watchin it go from desolated and scarred to somethin beautiful.”

Indrid loves when he talks like this, smiles dreamily as Duck adds, “you could even design it for me. I’d like that.”

“I could do you one better; I could apply it as well. And since I foresee you asking yes, I do have the training to do so. Royal mers learn to tattoo themselves, due to rules about being touched by lower ranking mers that I judiciously ignored.”

“No kiddin” Duck grins, two tentacles coiling around Indrid’s tail, teasing the red stripe, “now that I’m healed up, gonna do all kinds of things to you to remind you why you ignored those rules in the first place.”

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

“Are you nervous?” Indrid finishes setting out his tools on the pristine table in his pristine chambers. He tends towards messiness in his habits, but when it comes to Duck’s health he’s cleaned the whole place by hand and with magic. Twice.

“Nah, I know I’m in good hands.” Even as he says this, a burst of anxious yellow moves up his tentacles.

“All the same, if you need a break at any point, let me know. And if the scar starts stinging or throbbing, tell me at once.”

“You got it, darlin.”

Indrid takes his time using a spell to transfer his design to Duck’s skin, double checking the placement before picking up the charm-powered tattoo gun. When finished, the tattoo will be a small forest of kelp, with the scar making up most of the body of the serpent swimming between the leaves. Six shades of green ink, three shades of brown, one shade of copper, and black for outlining, lay on the table, Indrid dipping into each of them in turn as he brings the image to life.

“Love watchin you draw” Duck sighs, then shudders, “sorry, gettin a hell of an adrenaline rush from the pain.”

“Just try to stay still. If you twitch or fidget too much, it will cause mistakes on my end.”

“Do my best.”

“If you don’t, I’ll just have to tie you down.” Indrid says breezily. The tentacle near him pulses purple. Desire. Interesting.

He’s most of the way through when Duck’s arms shake, his tentacles following suit, occasionally bumping Indrid’s tail or sides.. They’re small movements, all things considered, but in most futures they mean he has to re-do the entire last third of the tattoo.

“Nono, this won’t do at all.” He set’s the gun down, flitting across to the closet near his bed. A sea-grass rope waits, right where he left. There hasn’t been much call for it, Duck capable of restraining Indrid in a variety of ways all on his own.

“Now” Indrid bites off several lengths of rope, “since you cannot be still, I am going to tie your tentacles down. You’re to keep your hands where I put them, or I will tie them as well.”

Ducks tentacles are now deep, unflinching purple, “Holy fuck, ‘drid.”

“Just because I am generally submissive around you does not mean I’m not capable of giving orders.” Indrid smirks, tying the first two tentacles down.

“I, I know, it’s just you, uh, you, you never talk like this.” Duck’s eyes are wide, excited even, as they track Indrid’s circular path.

“I suppose you don’t hear me during advisory meetings, so this is a new experience for you.”

“Maybe I oughta start sittin in on ‘em.” Duck whines when Indrid kisses his cheek but refuses to stick around long enough for Duck to kiss him back.

“Perhaps. Right now, however, you are to sit still until I’m done with you. Understood?”

“Uh huh.” Duck smiles, docile and sweet, and Indrid wonders why they never thought to try this before.

He returns to his work, inking colors into Duck’s skin, enjoying the intimacy of learning the familiar curves of his ribs and belly in new ways. At one point he notices Duck tensing and almost moving his hand, but the other mer catches it in time.

“Good boy.” Indrid purrs.

“Fuck.” Duck tips his head back, “how much longer?”

“About ten minutes more, I’d say. You can manage it my sweet, you’re doing so well already.”

Duck whimpers low in his throat as Indrid goes back to his work. Exactly ten minutes later, he puts a protective covering atop the tattoo and pushes his supply table aside.

“There, all done. You did wonderfully.”

“Great, now untie me.” Duck wriggles hopefully.

Indrid raises an eyebrow, “In a hurry, sweet one?”

“Yes” Duck holds out a hand, trying to coax him closer.

“Whatever for?” He replies airly, as if can’t sense the arousal pouring off his boyfriend in waves, “and stop moving so much, you’ll aggravate the tattoo.”

“‘Drid please” The folds between his front-most tentacles ripple as his cock starts emerging.

“Oh I see.” Indrid swims so they’re face to face, pinning Duck’s hands to the back of the chair as he leans into his space, “you want me to fuck you, is that it? You’re willing to risk pain to new scar tissue, even marring my lovingly done work, just to have your cock played with?”

“Holyfuckinshit, why is this the first time you’re talkin like this?” Duck bites his lip with a little moan as Indrid rubs their cheeks together.

“I don’t know. In hindsight, it seems so obvious; you’re my powerful, competent mate, you always take such wonderful care of me, but you want someone to take away that power from time to time, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Duck tips his chin up, hoping for a kiss, but Indrid floats backwards out of reach,

“What shall we do about that, hmm?” He swims a slow, tight circle around the other mer, staying just out of arms reach, “shall I keep you bound until the urge passes? No, that’s far too cruel for my beloved. Perhaps I should make you see to it yourself? But no, you might accidentally hurt yourself. Hmmm, what to do, what to do….” He taps his chin as Duck growls and whines, tentacles now straining against their bonds. Indrid knows Duck could snap them easily if he needed or wanted to. Which means he wants to remain at Indrid’s mercy for the time being.

“You do look wonderful like this. I didn’t even plan it this way, but how I tied you shows off most of your assets.” Indrid rubs the upper front of his tail, “now you’re getting me all wound up.”

“Good” Duck growls, tentacles swirling purple and pink.

“Yes it, ahnnn, it is rather good, isn’t it. After all, I have the perfect solution to the situation sitting right in front of me.”

Duck’s cock is fully out, it and the slit beneath it tempting Indrid to abandon his plan. He swims in front of the other mer, eyeing his cock approvingly, “yes, you’ll do quite nicely.”

“Thank fuckOHfummmhp” Duck’s surprised moan turns to a laugh as Indrid, having zipped upwards in a flash, finishes shoving his cock into Duck’s mouth.”

“Yesss, ohyes, goodness I love doing this, you look so charming with your lips around my cock. Ah, ah, don’t you dare move your hands from the chair. This” he gives a sharper thrust, “is all I need to be satisfied.”

Duck moans louder, which Indrid takes as his cue to hold his head in place and fuck into his mouth with abandon.

“That’s it love, that’s it, oh I ought to have done this months ago, tied my big strong hero down and reminded him of hisAHAnnn, his duties as consort.”

“‘M ot a ero.”

Indrid looks imperiously down his nose at him, “It’s rude to contradict someone when they’re giving you what you want, my sweet. I guess I’ll need to render you further incapable of speech” He concentrates and extends his cock, a mechanism meant to ensure he can reproduce with mers of any size or genital configuration but that he uses only to make Duck groan with pleasure.

His orgasm is already racing towards him, as it always does when Duck lets him (or orders him to) fuck his throat, and he shuts his eyes, concentrating on tight heat and the happy, muffled grunts floating up to his ears.

“Just a little, nnnn, little more my sweet, let your prince ravish your throat a little longerOH, ohgods, Duck, sweetheart, yes.” He cums, a shudder rippling down his tail, and doesn’t pull out until Duck struggles to swallow the rest down. The other mer is still collecting his breath when Indrid wiggles down and pushes his tongue into his slit.

“Fuck!” Duck jerks hard enough to move the chair an inch to the right.

Indrid snickers, wraps both hands around Duck’s cock, stroking it hurriedly as he raises his head, “What do you say, beloved?”

“Th-thank you?” Duck cracks an eye open. Indrid nods, then dips his head back down to to suck and tongue at the senstive skin.

“Fuckme, ohfuck, ‘Drid, darlin’, this is fuckin incredible, gonna, gonna be such a good consort, do whatever you say, fuck you five fuckin times a day, just, FUCK, just promise we can do this again.”

“Muv ourse.” Indrid thrusts his tongue deeper, twisting his hands on his upstrokes. The fourth time he does, he pops up to suck on the head just in time to catch Duck’s cum in his mouth. He takes his time, sucking him clean with happy trills and moans while his boyfriend utters curses that would make sailors blush.

He pulls away to wipe his mouth, intending to start untying Duck. The futures show that won’t be necessary,

Snapsnapsnapsnap

The ropes break in pairs, rapid fire, and then Duck is on him, enveloping him in arms, tentacles, and love. He tries to press closer, then winces back, “owfuck, you’re right, the tattoo is real sore.”

“It’ll be that way for a few days. Your Chosen strength will help, but you should still rest when possible.”

“I dunno” Duck kisses him sweetly, then nips his lower lip, “you know how stubborn I can be. Might have to uh, tie me to the bed.”

“That, my love, can be arranged.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermay fills #mermay

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oumakokichi · 3 years

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Hello This is kinda weird put I remember reading a good write-up on Miu that like Toko and Mikan she has low self esteem and never really had any friends so she literally doesn't know how to interact with people Plus she's in a situation were she can get killed in any SECOND so add these factors and I think that somewhat explains her lack of empathy and her just constantly being on edge She's in a situation were anyone she gets close to can end her life What do you think about this? Thanks

Hi anon, I don’t think it’s weird at all! Miu is actually one of my favorite ndrv3 characters; I love her to pieces and I agree with this analysis a lot! I believe she gets a lot of flack for being a female character who’s crass and rude and not very empathetic, despite people often idolizing or making excuses for male characters with many of the same traits.

To this day I still somehow see misinformation spread about Miu and used to call her things she isn’t, including blatantly untrue claims like “she forced herself on Kiibo” (which, I cannot make it more explicitly clear how much she does not do this). I’m not saying anyone has to love Miu or consider her their favorite character, I just think she gets an unfair deal sometimes.

It’s been a long time since I got to write a more in-depth analysis of her, so I’ll share more of my thoughts under the cut! Watch out for spoilers as always.

Miu having low self-esteem isn’t just a headcanon or a fan theory; it’s pretty much canon. Despite constantly acting arrogant, loud, and abrasive, Miu is absolutely desperate for validation and attention from others. For as haughty as she likes to act, she backs down almost immediately whenever someone so much as snaps or glares at her, clearly afraid that she’s somehow said the wrong thing or made someone mad at her.

In my opinion, she’s completely unaware of how she comes across to others. She wears her emotions on her sleeve and has no filter whatsoever, and this combined with her desire to be respected and praised for her talents means she’s very difficult to get along with.

I’m not making excuses for her actions; I still think some of the things she says about other members of the group are pretty terrible, and I do, to some extent, simply think she’s not really the type to empathize with others. But I do think part of it is that she’s just completely unaware of how she sounds or comes across to others. She has no understanding of social cues, or what it means to “tone it down” in order to better fit in with other people.

Obviously, it’s not like the other characters are at fault for getting fed up with Miu sometimes or not wanting to spend time with her. Like I said, she’s incredibly loud and abrasive and nearly impossible to please, especially as she’s quick to make fun of others or get mad if she thinks they’re wasting her time. But it’s somewhat… sad, in a way, to see how desperately she does want someone to spend time with her and acknowledge all her positive traits, like being an “amazing gorgeous girl-genius.” She really does strike me as someone who has probably been alone most of her life, and her inability to understand social cues or realize how she sounds to other people means that she never learns from her mistakes or gets any better.

This is part of the reason I actually really love her interactions with both Kiibo and Kaede.

I find it touching that she and Kiibo have such a consistently good dynamic even in the middle of the killing game. In the same way that Kiibo is one of the only characters openly sad after Miu’s death in chapter 4, Miu is perhaps the only character who doesn’t really look down on Kiibo for being a robot; instead, she thinks he’s the coolest person she’s ever met precisely because he’s a robot. And I think there’s a lot to be said too about how both of them are characters that really struggle with understanding social cues or fitting in with a group.

Meanwhile, Miu’s FTEs with Kaede are perhaps the closest we ever really see her get to making a friend or getting included with the rest of the group. I absolutely love how much Kaede refuses to back down whenever Miu is saying something horrible or mean or gross, and how she always puts her foot down whenever she crosses a line. When Miu tries to “compare chest sizes,” Kaede just flat-out punches her for it, leaving Miu baffled and confused, but also with a better understanding of personal boundaries.

Kaede always feels like she’s trying her hardest not so much to put up with Miu, but to understand why she acts the way she does, and puts a lot of thought into what she could do or say that would make Miu want to become more of a team player or open up to people more. The rare moments where Kaede praises Miu and Miu becomes genuinely flustered and taken aback are further proof of how much Miu really wants validation and has no idea how to go about asking for it without coming across like a total weirdo, so I have a big soft spot both for those first few FTEs with Miu, as well as some of their interactions together in the Talent Development Plan.

It’s also interesting that you should mention Miu’s fear of being killed at any point in the killing game as a big reason for why she acts the way she does. I bring up the fact that Ouma has very clear signs of paranoia and a fundamental inability to trust others a lot in my meta—and Miu is no different. In fact, the biggest reason chapter 4 plays out the way it does is because both of them are incredibly paranoid and mistrustful, terrified of getting killed, and this causes what could have been (and was, for a time) a very powerful alliance between them to completely fall apart into pieces.

If I had to draw parallels between Miu and another character, it wouldn’t be any of the other “pervert” characters in DR, or even any of the other inventors/programmers. It would be with Maizono.

Chapter 4 of ndrv3 is, in my opinion, actually incredibly similar to dr1 chapter 1: both Miu and Maizono ultimately make the decision to try and kill someone out of sheer desperation to confirm the state of the outside world with their own two eyes, and both of them ultimately have their own plan turned against them and are killed in the end. Where Maizono’s strongest driving force for wanting to get out no matter the cost is sparked by the sight of her own motive video, Miu’s is sparked by the fear that the outside world may be a total wasteland, and the knowledge that she could actually do a considerable amount of good with her talent.

It’s absolutely correct to say that Miu didn’t trust anyone else. She and Ouma both collaborated together for a time—we don’t know how long exactly, but it’s clear that they were at least working together for a while given the sheer number of inventions that Ouma commissioned from her and provided designs for. The fact remains that the two of them were this close to putting together a plan to take down the exisals so they could escape with everyone else… but again, sadly, both of them were far too paranoid for this plan to ever actually work.

Miu’s biggest problem with the plan as Ouma proposes it is that she simply doesn’t trust anyone else. All the clever inventions and plans in the world won’t pull through if even one person decides to double-cross them or simply put self-interest first. And it’s worth noting that she’s kind of right here, considering Tsumugi was very much still part of the group at this point in time and absolutely would’ve sabotaged their plan using any means possible. So in an interesting turn of events, Miu decides to put her self-interests first and commit a murder in order to escape, because she suspects everyone else of wanting to do exactly the same thing.

Overall, Miu is a deeply flawed individual. She’s loud and rude, demanding and hostile, incapable of recognizing her own mistakes, and deeply paranoid and mistrustful of others. But all of these things are very much the reason I love her. Again, she’s not for everyone. No one has to like her.

But I find it interesting that other male characters who have the same or arguably worse flaws (flaws usually stemming from misogyny, including Souda stalking and harassing Sonia for the entirety of sdr2 with no change in his behavior, or Teruteru who straight up threatens sexual assault both in sdr2 and dr3) often have tons of people willing to defend them and somehow justify their actions, while Miu gets painted as irredeemably bad or has her moments with Kiibo completely skewed out of context.

In any case, these are my thoughts on Miu’s character. I hope I was able to make myself clear! I don’t think that she’s a “poor misunderstood baby” or anything like that by any means, but I do think she’s incredibly interesting and complex, both because of her flaws and because of how undeniably useful her talent was to the group. For someone who was so adamantly against being a team player, it’s amazing how much Miu’s inventions are vital to saving everyone’s lives in most of the game’s trials. Thank you for the fun question, anon!

#danganronpa #miu iruma #iruma miu #ndrv3 #new danganronpa v3 #my meta #ask #anonymous #ndrv3 spoilers //#okay to reblog

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goldeneyedgirl · 3 years

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TwiFicMas Day 8: Forgotten

Happy Day 8! I have been travelling all day, and plotting Forbidden Fics, so on with the show!

Today’s fic is an untitled riff on the concept of Alice being found in the woods of Forks not only having forgotten her entire life, but still human - her last solid memories are running from James. It was very much meant to be an exploration of Alice and Jasper relearning each other, and falling in love again - though it got quite dark and depressing at one point - and looking at how far Alice has come from her human years. She is absolutely unclear of the year she’s in, and whilst she has some memories of the asylum, she is also unaware of just how damaged she was before she was changed. I hope that all makes sense.

Onwards!

What does she remember?

That is a loaded question. Matron asks her that every morning, as if she is a small child, whenever she can manage to talk. Her mind is gossamer thin, and tattered from shock therapy. She doesn’t remember much, but she does remember that her name is… her name is… Alice, yes.

The waking dreams she has are an illness, a terrible one, and she is mad.

Her dearest friend is Eli, the orderly. He was special, and a good man. He looks after her.

That’s what she remembers. The hunter. Eli taking her away from the asylum, wrapped in his itchy, old coat that smelt like smoke and grass. She was cold and tired and so frightened for Eli, because he is old and the hunt was strong… but he hid her away and went off to defeat the hunter.

This Alice is not their Alice, that is clear.

She is undeniably human, and so frail that Carlisle must resist the urge to check her immediately into the closest hospital. She speaks quietly, wringing her hands nervously. She doesn’t make eye-contact.

For Jasper, all he can think is that her eyes are blue. Blue-grey, really, a colour that nearly matches a scarf she bought back in the 50s. She has faint freckles over her nose.

The Cullens are very kind to me, whilst Eli has gone. Dr Cullen seems to think that Eli and I will be living with them for now on; that does make sense, I suppose, since Dr Cullen is a doctor, and I am still very ill. They had a very nice bedroom to give me, and clothing, so Eli must have written them. And Mrs Cullen was very nice when the dress she gave me was far too short and it upset me. The second one was much better, though it was black and I am sure made me look as pale as a ghost.

Mrs Cullen has cooked for me, as well – the smells are awful to a vampire, and the rest of them vanish whenever she disappears into the kitchen. She is always asking me what I like to eat, and she looked so sad when I told her I didn’t know, because the food at the asylum was so awful.

I keep away from the others, like Eli warned me. Though, Miss Rosalie was so lovely, I couldn’t believe she was real. I… I think I had a doll like her once. Her husband was a giant of a man who reminded me of the orderlies at the asylum, who seemed nice enough, but I wasn’t getting too close.

The redheaded boy seemed to like watching me a lot, but refrained from talking much. He seemed to have a lot of friends, though, as when he did speak, he was always talking about ‘Bella’ and ‘Jacob’ and ‘Seth’ and ‘Leah’.

The young blond man did not seem to be pleased I was in the house, leaving the room anytime I entered it, and when he was forced to be in my presence, he glowered at me, as if I were the most unwelcome creature in the universe.

Perhaps it should have upset me, but I am used to such glares.

Dr Cullen insisted that I spend a lot of time resting quietly in my room, though he allowed me to sit in the garden for a little while each day, and there was a never-ending supply of books, which was wonderful. I spend a lot of time attempting to pen letters to Eli, though my hands were still quite shaky, and my handwriting abysmal. My drawings moreso. I cried about it a little, when I was in my room, but I should be very grateful – my alternative to this lovely place was death.

My bedroom remained a mystery. Mrs Cullen assured me that it was mine, and I adored everything about it – the way the light filled the room every morning, to the dandelion lamp on the nightstand, to the bed with the silk headboard and piles of pillows. Mrs Cullen was always worried I was cold, bringing me as many pillows and blankets as I wished for.

But, I wondered if perhaps this room wasn’t intended for me. Mrs Cullen had filled the dresser with my clothing, and apologised, explaining the closet was used as storage, and I shouldn’t go through it until she had some time to clear it out. I had peeked, just once, and found it full of boxes and clothing. The clothing! I had never seen so many dresses! Most of them had been terribly short, but there had been every colour and fabric. I couldn’t imagine leaving behind so many beautiful things.

There were spaces in the bookcase as well, as if several editions had been pulled out in a hurry.

And I had found a necklace that had been left on the window sill, behind the curtain – a thin silver chain, with a glass teardrop on the end. It was lovely, and clearly beloved – the initials had been rubbed off the clasp, as had the engraving around the setting.

I had simply left it on the dresser and never asked, even when it vanished without mention.

It wasn’t the only mystery. I had noticed that I was kept out of many of the rooms of the house – my meals were served to me on trays or in the dining room. I was allowed in the garden or in my room.

But who am I to criticise their hospitality? Perhaps they keep things in this house that are not fit for human eyes.

Today, a man arrived. A policeman, though his uniform was quite odd. He looked quite stern, and when Mrs Cullen went to greet him, I disappeared back to the dining room to finish my breakfast.

Mrs Cullen is determined to discover my ‘favourite’ foods at every meal; I don’t have the heart to tell her after the ‘soups’ and ‘porridges’ of the hospital, every food is my favourite. Today, it is eggs that are like little yellow clouds.

“Alice!” the policeman sees me there and he smiles, but looks confused for a moment.

My glass of orange juice slips from my fingers and all I can think is that he is looking for me, the hospital has searched for me and they will drag me back to that dark, dim little cell, and I’ll be without Eli this time.

I know I am crying and screaming, though it sounds quite feeble to my own ears, and Mrs Cullen is trying to calm me, and the policeman looks bewildered, and the redheaded boy – Edward – is there and trying to fix everything.

“She thinks Charlie is going to take her back,” he keeps saying. “Get Jasper down here to calm her down.”

I must look a fright, my hair has fallen around my face, and there is orange juice spilt all over my dress and Mrs Cullen’s floor and there is glass everywhere.

“Carlisle left some sedatives,” Miss Rosalie says finally, looking rather stunned. Everyone looks rather pained but finally Edward nods.

And then I am calm.

I slump to the floor, my arms wrapped around myself. I am still frightened, my heart pounding, but I am calm.

“Charlie is a friend,” Mrs Cullen is telling me soothingly, smoothing my hair from my face. “No one is going to take you anywhere you don’t want to go, we promise.”

The calm fades into grief, and I fling my arms around her neck and sob like a child and beg for someone to fetch Eli for me.

They sit me down in the lounge room, all of them watching me. Esme has an album in her lap, and looks so kind and worried. I keep checking my hair, to make sure it hasn’t come loose. It’s not really long enough to pin up well, and Miss Rosalie never pins hers up, but it feels right.

And then Dr Cullen speaks. His voice is gentle and sad and it takes a while for me to understand the words he is saying.

Eli is, most certainly, dead.

But so is the hunter, and his vile companions.

I don’t make a sound, but suddenly my cheeks are wet, and I am crying. Esme pulls me into her arms and rocks me.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m sure he was a good man,” she murmurs against my head, and ice and fire rip through my veins and Edward hisses at Esme and I pull away, my heart pounding.

I’m sure he was a good man.

“What did he look like?” I demand from Dr Cullen, my voice hard but still shaking. “What did Eli look like?”

Dr Cullen looks startled and Esme is realising her mistake and I am realising that no one here has ever met Eli before. That I was never entrusted to these vampires by him.

Edward is just shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, Alice, but I never met Eli in person,” Dr Cullen says.

I let out a little moan, and wonder what comes next. A runaway girl in a borrowed dress.

Truly, how many times in my life shall I be left with nothing?

Perhaps I should have left the hunter to his meal and his pleasure. If I had known then what I do now, I would have.

My face is wet, and the collar of my sweater is sodden when I look up and spy a pair of shoes under the little console table in the entrance. They are small, small enough for me, and black, with a shiny gold toe. Worn, too, and I wonder whose they are. I wonder if that is why they took me in, to replace the ghost girl who left behind my bedroom and a closet full of clothing.

The family clearly doesn’t realise what I’m doing as I move towards the shoes. I am wearing good quality clothing – thick stockings and a grey dress with a black sweater – and now I have shoes. They cannot stop me leaving.

Well, they can. But I will fight until I am dead. I am tired of being a pawn.

Edward groans as I step into the shoes – a perfect fit, as if they were mine all along – and there is the fuzzy muttering I can never understand, and I wish they hung their coats by the door, but there is nothing for it.

Before I can open the front door, there is an iron-bar of an arm around my middle, and I look down and then up in shock, as Jasper bodily drags me away from my freedom.

“Let me go!” I squeal, trying to wriggle free. I am small enough that I could usually get out of Eli’s grasp; he would laugh and tell me I was like a cat, or a goldfish, too hard to catch. But this man, who has treated me with nothing but disdain, has compensated for my size, and I am trapped in his grasp.

“Stop it!” I shriek, and I try kicking and hitting, but it does nothing except bruise my poor limbs. Miss Rosalie’s husband is truly laughing at me, and I’m sure I look quite a sight, my eyes and face all red and wet, fighting against this ridiculous behemoth of a man. Eli was not so tall as the Cullen men, and it is most unhelpful.

“Please, let me go!” I beg, but my voice is cracking, slightly hysterical, as they discuss me. As if I am a naughty child instead of the girl they have lied to.

“You’re hurting me,” I finally offer, rather pitifully. That one always worked with Eli, and it works quite well now. The man nearly drops me, and stares at me in horror – a look that makes me feel terribly guilty, though my back does ache from being held in such a way.

“Jasper,” Edward is looking at him; he has the saddest, most heartbroken look on his face I have ever seen, and I feel awful. “It’s okay, she’s fine.”

Jasper shakes his head and turns; a second later, the door slams.

“He gets to leave,” I say grumpily, and Dr Cullen and Mrs Cullen just look stunned at what has transpired.

Within seconds, a plan is formed. Dr Cullen, Edward and Miss Rosalie’s husband go after Jasper, whom I have caused great distress to, apparently. Miss Rosalie and Mrs Cullen whisk me back upstairs, where I am brought a cup of tea, and ignore my questions about Eli, a sinking feeling in my stomach until my vision swims and I realise they have played the same terrible trick my mother used on me when the orderlies came to take me away. I tip sideways on the window seat and Mrs Cullen carries me easily to bed, and oh, I hate them all. I cannot cry or co-ordinate my arms to move or speak.

But I have learned a valuable lesson. They will be kind and take care of me, but I have no power nor choice. And if I strike out at them, I will be punished. A tiny, hysterical part of my brain is amused that their weapon of choice is pills crushed in tea when they could break me into tiny pieces, but I will be quite carefully about accepting food and drink now on.

The Cullens are not to be trusted.

The tea was brewed strong, because I sleep through the afternoon and night. When I wake, there is light slipping through the windows. Normally, I would attempt to wash and clothe myself before Mrs Cullen comes in, but today, I do not. I attend to my needs in the bathroom, and drink water in my cupped hands rather than risk whatever is mixed in with the glass on my nightstand.

And then I return to bed. It seems that is where they prefer me to be, so that is where I shall stay.

It is quite late, mid-morning, when Mrs Cullen ventures in with a tentative smile and a tray, and then a concerned look when I do no sit up nor greet her, still clad in yesterday’s dress. I do not respond to her greetings, and I feel like a dying animal when she finally leaves to fetch Dr Cullen.

Having the doctor in my bedroom makes me feel quite unclean, brings shadowy horrors from the asylum to the front of my mind that I try to push away as he checks my temperature and talks to me.

“Grief, especially for a beloved friend, can be overwhelming,” he says finally, smoothing my hair in a way that makes me shudder and pull away from him. “You should eat, to keep up your strength, Alice. But rest is a great healer.”

He and Mrs Cullen leave, though a plate of toast and a glass of juice is left on my nightstand, and I wonder how many pills they have crushed into the mix. I wait forty minutes before I deposit the toast and juice down the toilet – they shall never guess that I didn’t consume it myself.

I am right, of course. Mrs Cullen’s smile brightens when she sees the empty dishes. I have been good and obedient and all is well, in the Cullens’ eyes.

They might think that they can control me and win whatever terrible game this is, but I grew up in a hellish place, learnt cruelty and sneakiness from the very best at it. No matter what they think they can do to me, I’ve survived worse. And I will survive them, too.

It has been almost a week since the terrible altercation, and they all suspect me. I refuse to leave my room, content to take my meals up there and read. The food is discarded via the bathroom, and I drink only from the tap. My bones are returning to the surface. Hunger is an old bedmate, one I’ve known since I was a girl, and I barely notice it anymore.

The brunette girl looks quite rough, in her trousers and shapeless sweater. She looked quite sour, too, as we sat in the dining room.

There is little chatter as she presents the food she brought with her. Apparently, the popular opinion is that I am so grief-stricken that Mrs Cullen’s food no longer tempts me, and that this strange girl can provide something that I will eat.

The sandwich is wrapped up in paper, with stickers to keep it sealed – it gives me slightly more confidence that the food has not been tampered with, though my body is well trained in going without food, and I am full after only picking at it for a little while.

The girl – Isabella, daughter of the Policeman Charlie – doesn’t talk much, and when she does, every second word is Edward’s name. It’s strange; I’m faintly reminded of my cousins fretting over boys, a hazy memory of a conversation I had no interest in, and wondered if they ever read a book.

Since I ate, the meal is declared a success, and Isabella is encouraged to return any time - with more food, and I wonder how many conversations about Edward I shall have to sit through.

I rather shocked the family, today. Dr Cullen weighed me in my nightdress, and found out that I had lost another two pounds. All that good work, undone. Mrs Cullen had looked terribly sad, and Miss Rosalie had scowled.

“If you don’t start eating, we’ll take you to the hospital and they’ll force you to eat,” she practically growls at me, and I wish I could laugh in her face.

“They attach a feeding tube to your mouth, and they will tie you down,” Miss Rosalie keeps speaking. I tilt my head to the side and think of the asylum, of everything I have lived through in eight years. Nothing Miss Rosalie can tell me will scare me.

“Please, Alice, is there anything you would like to eat?” Mrs Cullen is nearly begging me. I shake my head.

“Perhaps it is time to involve professionals,” Dr Cullen says in a sad voice, and there is a loud bang from upstairs that makes me jump.

“That would be a no,” Miss Rosalie’s husband says wryly.

I don’t know why, but I walk into the kitchen the next morning, and when Mrs Cullen offers to make me breakfast, I agree.

I agree to eat at least half and then sit in the garden with her.

I even agree to a cup of tea, though my hands shake something terribly when I drink it – why am I drinking it? – and I nearly drop the cup.

Mrs Cullen watches me with a tired look on her face, and smoothes my hair from my face as she takes the empty tea cup. I sit in the garden and wonder if I could vomit it all up - it sits uneasily in my stomach, as if it knew how unwilling I was to consume it. I wait for the effect, to feel sleepy or twitchy or dizzy or something.

Jasper is watching me from the doorway, with a flat look on his face. I haven’t seen him since the argument, and he doesn’t look particularly pleased to lay eyes on me, but when he sees me watching him, he moves towards Mrs Cullen’s empty seat and folds himself into it.

“I,” he begins, looking down, “I understand you’ve suffered a great loss and feel like we’ve betrayed you. And I never, ever would have allowed them to lace your tea with sedatives, had I been in the house. I’m sorry I left. But you are safe here. We want to protect you and help you. And I will explain more when you’re well again, I promise. But you must stop trying to harm yourself, Alice. You must eat. I can only stop them from sending you to hospital for so long, and I…”

I blinked at him curiously. He had stopped them? More than once? He had some sort of authority over them - over me?

“I don’t understand,” I manage.

“I know, and we’ll start explaining things soon, but for now, I need you to trust us. Eat, drink, speak with us. I will watch over all the food that is prepared, if that makes you feel better. But I cannot watch you hurt yourself like this, and I cannot leave you. I just…” He looked so sad as his gaze met mine. And something about that gaze, something about the softness of his words made me trust him. He wouldn’t have drugged the tea, wouldn’t have allowed Mrs Cullen or Miss Rosalie to do so either. He never would have hurt me or lied to me. Whomever Jasper was in this family, and to me, he was neither unkind nor cruel.

“Okay, I’ll try,” I said in a soft voice. “As long as you tell me the truth.”

#twificmas20 #ficmas20 #jalice #alice cullen #jasper hale #twilight fic #twilight renaissance #my fic #my fic: what does she remember

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arcticdementor · 3 years

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I was talking to Sarah yesterday and I had a revelation I think is worth sharing.

Let’s begin at the beginning. About a month ago, Instapundit posted this.

Now, I’ve been thinking of the rise and fall of civilizations lately. I can’t think why it’s been on my mind. It’s a tale as old as time—a civilization emerges, establishes a new worthwhile order, the good things brought forth by said order soften up the people maintaining it, the softening turns to decadence, and the decadence gives way to the barbarians, who clean the slate. Where would you say things are lately?

…

In short—the federal government of the United States of America has become impotent at almost all good things.

Expanded out—There is no start to its talents. It cannot maintain its borders. Since the “election” it doesn’t even try. No surprise there. It cannot maintain friendly relationships with allies—as our recent screwing of Britain on our way out of Afghanistan shows. The “leader” of the “free world” could not be bothered to pick up the phone for our closest ally. Speaking of Afghanistan, it can’t win a war. It can’t even lose gracefully. In fact it fucked up leaving so badly some people are entertaining that it intended to fuck it up, because how the fuck does somebody above the age of six not notice that pulling the military out first and the civilians out second is not even a remotely workable strategy? Resulting in leaving millions of dollars of equipment—and—excuse me, what? Millions of dollars of dollars in the desert? Fantastic.

It makes self sabotaging and idiotic choices to stymie its own domestic oil industry, while accepting a pipeline not from Canada, but one that’s a joint Russian-German venture instead. Which means the problem, contrary to any environmentalist whining, isn’t the pipeline—it’s the pipeline with a friendly country. Big surprise— its only true interest in the environment lies in international agreements that hamstring us while doing nothing to China, the world’s largest polluter. It either can’t be trusted on energy production and the environment, or is trying to get it wrong.

It can’t manage its economy. What could have been a “V” shaped recovery has been turned into an “L” shaped one. What could be contributing? Paying people to do nothing? Rampant inflation? Meanwhile all the dumbasses running the country can think of is spending several billion more dollars that don’t exist. The country has infrastructure problems for a fact, but they’ll only acknowledge that to the extent of cynically plastering the word on an “infrastructure” bill which is in fact just a far Left wishlist that largely ignores actual infrastructure, in the hopes people will be dumb enough to support it because it has the right label.

And on.

What aptitudes does it have besides taking money, trampling civil liberties, and ignoring constitutional laws at gunpoint? News flash, dummies: We don’t need peaceful protestors incarcerated without a trial. We don’t need the weight of the federal government turned to the problem of violating states rights because Texas passed a law Biden doesn’t like. We need military egresses that look like they weren’t planned by Bozo the clown and an economic plan better than something China would design for us as an attempt to permanently sink the country. Is there anyone at all in DC who can provide that? If not, is there anything useful they can do? I’ll wait.

…

This is what decadence looks like. When the government stops even attempting competence because nothing and nobody that currently exists can replace or displace them so who cares about results? When comfort and plenty have become so common, been taken for granted for so long, that the question of utility or even basic sanity isn’t even distantly considered. When it’s assumed that self-harming policies that will obviously damage the country won’t really matter because nobody has ever known a world without America and fundamentally has no idea how the present day came to be. When the country’s most educated start chasing bizarre and unimaginably stupid ideas on economics that boil down to “inflation won’t happen if you double the monetary supply by printing money, if only you just believe hard enough”. In fact, when education stops being a means to greater insight, more useful abilities, and a better life, and becomes a cult devoted to the kind of idiocy that can survive only with strenuous censorship, the tenets of the cult being treated by the indoctrinated as a collection of sacred mysteries and deeply-thought paradoxes— while to those not similarly trained it is self-obviously a collection of contradictory and self-serving lies.

Verily, decadence is here. We can infer that what comes next is the barbarians. And we have options. Mexican illegals? A heady mixture of poverty-stricken Marxists who have never known a system that wasn’t corrupt, functionally lawless, and devoted to the tenets of voting oneself rich; and outright criminals with lives like “a demon’s resumé”? Perhaps radical Muslims? By sheer numbers worldwide they’re the most likely option. The Taliban just got a huge infusion of cash and a big boost in morale. In a few short days we’ll know whether they’ve arranged a thank you gift for Zho Bi-Xen and his kleptocrat marching band to commemorate his intended pull-out date. But even if, and God I hope, they have not, we can expect an uptick in terrorism and quite shortly. Or perhaps China? The Middle Kingdom would laugh at being called barbarians, but I call genocidal communists like I see them. Mao was morally three steps below a pig and Xi has enough power to aspire to greater depths. As is I wouldn’t dream of feeding a pig Mu Shu Xi due to the great risk of poisoning the pig.

But there is a barbarian group not considered. Us.

Hang on. Before you balk, listen. Look again at what these idiots are selling as the fruits of civilization. Defenses of pedophilia and urinals as art. And more, too—sterilization and disfigurement of teenagers in the form of sex changes. Black supremacy as a panacea to made up threats of white supremacy. Books nobody reads, movies nobody watches, paintings that exist only to launder money—even the ones not made by Hunter Biden.

What good person would not be proud to be considered a barbarian by these miserable, over-decorated Faberge people? I’d be mortified if they agreed with me! So they think I’m a sexist or a racist or whatever. Fine. They do not use these words to mean the same things I mean, so it’s a pointless argument, and they are now officially beneath my explaining myself to them. When the people who are calling me names are so morally opaque that the Taliban can make devastating critiques of them just by referencing the foundational works of their own gender studies programs, I’m done caring about the names. Fine. I’m what you think is a racist. I’m what you think is a sexist. But you think a lot of very stupid things, and as the curtain continues to draw back on the carnival of madness that’s been behind the scenes the entire time it’s occurring to me that what you think and reality overlap so seldom that the only time not to ignore you is when I can ridicule you. If that is your civilization, someone hand me a pointy horned helmet.

…

Yes, this is a moment of peril, but also opportunity. See in your country what every hostile group listed above sees in it—the makings of great civilization, along other, less stupid lines. All of it guarded by weak, fat, stupid people with no will and no self-belief. Take that mindset and go forth.

Get involved in your local systems. There is an old prayer for God to make ones enemies ridiculous. Congratulations to whomever was still praying it. Your prayers have been answered. Will you tell me that you cannot defeat these people? People who lose casual debates to terrorists not on principle but on basic facts?

…

You can’t reason with them so don’t bother. Recent events have made it clear you may as well try to talk sense into a three-day-old mackerel. Just confront them with their own stupidity so that people who see the inevitable video understand what this is about, and don’t feel that you are too good to shout them out of the room. You’re the barbarian, remember? Not like the nice civilized people with their gender-queer Tik-Tokers pushing vaccine propaganda. That means you’re excused from conversations with morons. Don’t bother trying to find common ground. Look at where they’re standing! Do you want to try to find the midpoint between that and reality? Silly. Pointless. Send them back to their walled online gardens to whine to their equally stupid friends about the barbarians.

Can we take it back from the ground up? I don’t know. But hey, it’s got to be worth a shot. Join the fun! Find some friends and locate a low-hanging political event to raid. When was the last time you went to a town hall for your town? Isn’t just a part of you curious to know whether your local county commissioner starts by declaring her pronouns? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see someone like that made very uncomfortable? You can make that happen. You can probably do it within the next month. Bring a few friends! Or a few dozen. Some of the people reading this probably were afraid to do that kind of thing for fear of losing their job. The Biden economy might have freed up some of your time. What have you got to lose now? More importantly, the way things are going, are you going to lose it anyway if things continue as they are? Think on it.

#thomas kendall #sarah a hoyt

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cosplayswitzerlandaskblog · 4 years

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Unlike last time Hetalia got a new season, the response has not been particularly positive, and I’m seeing a lot of twisted feelings towards the show and the fandom to a point where it seems long time content creators are stepping away from it. I know anyone still active who follows me either are or were fans of Hetalia, so it should be relevant for all y’all.

As a fan who never fell out of the show, I find the response sad though healthy, and even if I know I ghosted you all on tumblr (sorry) because of time constraints and mental health, I still make the occasional CMVs. Fact is, I do not let go of special interests very easily. It seems a lot of you all started watching the show at 10-14 years old, where I myself was a bit older – 17 – and had grown a bit more. Long story short, my Naruto phase was your Hetalia phase, and no, it’s not pretty. You’re young and stupid and don’t know much critical thinking and make mistakes, and you have to forgive yourself for those mistakes, especially when the content you consume is associated with the real world in a sensitive subject.

But after seeing all these posts explaining all the bad we see from Hetalia, I wanted to make a post explaining what I learned from it – all the good that can come with a show like this if you stay aware of perspective. I am not excusing all the bad that came with it, for WWII is a serious event in history that should never be forgotten nor made fun of, but here goes:

I went from a ‘war-is-cool’ history buff to one who truly delved in and learned the intricacies of history, being fascinated with the ‘hows’ and the ‘whys’ as well as getting an excuse to look at the histories of nations which I’d never otherwise be interested in, and I know a lot of other people in the fandom did the same. This is how history should be known, as that is how we can truly apply it to the real world.

I learned to separate people from their countries. To give an example that’ll hit close to much of tumblr, when I started Hetalia I hated Americans with a passion because of the road “you” had put the world on, and I considered all y’all dumb and bad as a cause of it. Getting that excuse to take an ACTUAL look at how your nation functioned and what communities truly hid behind the borders, I learned instead that your government is corrupt as shit, your society is rigged against you and you have been forced to stand by and watch as chaos happens. It got applied to the world as a whole, where I considered other nations being as dynamic as my own, with people both good and bad, and the actions of the nation is even less of a reflection of the people in the cases of corrupt democracies or dictatorships.

I separated from Colonial world views. I was never actively racist, brought up in a proper home, and already before Hetalia I fiercely protected the rights of Muslims who are often mistreated in my nation and tried to hear them out when possible. But I was a Westerner, and even if the nation I came from had barely participated in invasions, I had learned to consider my culture ‘correct’ and native and African cultures ‘primitive’. While the journey was long, a step wise process of realizing things like there was nothing inherently ethically wrong eating dogs or partially incubated duck eggs, only in how the animals were acquired, that cultural progress is heavily dependent on perspective and that fucking genocide of native peoples still happen in this damn century, Hetalia was the stepping stone which gave me the interest in other nations to expand my world view. I probably ain’t done here – I have a whole life of outside influences to unlearn – but I’m further than most people I know in my near surroundings, and I’ve even managed to move my parents who originally taught me to respect people of all kinds in the first place.

I learned Nazis were people. This is a conversation which often comes up here on tumblr, and the demonization Nazi Germany and its government directly allows actual Nazis and fascists like Richard Spencer a free pass because they look groomed and proper. Until then, I’d simply assumed no one was ‘stupid enough to be a Nazi’ because of the atrocities of WWII and therefore looked at the world naively. Realizing how little true support Nazis had during WWII and similarly anyone could end down that pungent rabbit hole, I became careful of what I excused on social media and allowed myself to doubt seemingly normal people if their behaviour was alarming – such as the police man who is supposed to be a damn ‘hero’ of society.

I learned how to deal with material sensitive to others. A common problem in the fandom has always been the cosplaying and portrayal of Nazis, especially at cons and the like, and in a similar vein – I did blackface once because of Hetalia. The horrible thing about this is that blackface is immensely common in Europe – at least my own country – and blackface frequently happens at schools during ‘international’ events, where whole classrooms are assigned to portray a designated country. A whole of two times – in 6th grade as well as 2nd grade of high school – I was exposed to blackface as my class was given an African nation to portray – Somalia the first time, Kenya the second. No one, adult, teen or child, are aware of the history of race imitation in my country, but by the second time I was supposed to participate in dressing up as an African tribe, I’d understood the issue – thanks to Hetalia. My friend group of white, privileged, European teens discussed what symbolism was appropriate at cons or in videos – could we wear the Iron Cross? The Nazi flag? What if we burned it during the video? These thoughts are not usually a part of the mind of European youth, and I consider that a grave problem which leads to people making fun of ‘triggers’, downplaying racial issues and the like.

It offered me a means to make history personal. The biggest struggle for good history teachers and the reason we are often made to read and write letters from the periods we study is to make it seem real and get a emotional connection to these past, lost peoples. Hetalia offered puppets for me to place into historical contexts to make them truly real – the main driver pushing me away from mere fascination of war, since I suddenly felt the horrors of warfare through the characters that I loved. Things like Elizabeth I’s court, the conquests of Rome, the dissolution of the Kalmar Union, the battlefield of Somme, the invasion of America, damn slavery becomes different when something you already know is a part of it and you can see them in there. Hearing of people of the past should in itself be enough, and for the closest parts of history (WWII and afterwards) it always was for me, but we are human. We cannot understand the size of a billion, and we struggle understanding the lives of those living centuries before us, unless we are offered context.

I’m not blind to the issues of the fandom or the show. I was here for ‘the r*pist, the pervert and the p*dophile’, I know of South Korean and Chinese issues with the show, and I heard the gassing joke in the show’s dub and got nauseous from discomfort and anger. I’ve always been in the fringe of the fandom due to my social disabilities, so I don’t know everything that happened, but I’ve seen many racist OCs and disrespecting of historical sites. It’s not pretty, but I will believe these people, who were likely young, likely learned in time. And I may have been able to learn these things by other means, but not in the same way, and not through personal interest and research that’s helped me become sceptical and analysing of the world around me.

At its core, Hetalia is about watching a normal, nerdy guy learn how to draw, using stereotypic country personifications mainly from the perspective of Japan. It’s natural he chooses Japan, since he’s Japanese, and WWII is unfortunately the automatic historical event for most common people to focus on – but Hetalia doesn’t even solely focus on that, but is an amalgamation of vaguely correct historical situations played out by the characters, and often it is with the intent of comedy rather than the grimness often associated with historical settings which allows a wider audience than merely history nerds.

What I want you all to do is learn from your mistakes and forgive your younger selves for not knowing better. Maybe reflect on what you got from the show, rather than what you lost. A new generation of young Hetalians is likely coming with the new season, and us old timers might be able to help them avoid pitfalls if we stay around to teach them. The best of the show is compassion towards the people of the world combined and love of history, as I believe Hima wanted it – the worst is Nazi apologetics and racial stereotyping. We decide in what direction we take it, and what lessons we bring into the future.

TL;DR: As a lot of media intended for older audiences, Hetalia is a show which has to be watched critically, which makes it dangerous for young people to watch unhinged, but it also opens up for interest in the world beyond the borders you live within. We should be aware of the issues and learn from them, but in and of itself the show has a lot of good to offer in learning compassion for other nations and cultural groups.

#impressive how active I've become these last weeks #I kinda feel embarrassed #but Hetalia is coming back #and a lot of people are feeling dread because of it #my own feelings are mixed #but Hetalia is was gave me friends and started expanding my world view #other people might get a similar benefit from it #and I want them to have the chance #I'd love to hear the opinions of others tho #also #welcome to my usual iconic long posts

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missmentelle · 4 years

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How to Enforce Your Boundaries

I see a lot of posts on Tumblr that talk about the importance of enforcing your boundaries - I’ve given that advice out myself, many times - but I haven’t seen a lot of discussion about what that actually looks like. I’ve been getting a lot of asks lately from people who want to enforce boundaries, but aren’t quite sure what they need to say or how firm they actually need to be. So without further ado, here’s a quick guide to doing just that:

Let’s say that you don’t want to talk about your ex - for the sake of example, that’s the boundary we’re going to set. Your reasons for not wanting to talk about your ex are deeply personal, and you don’t feel like explaining them; you just know that talking about the relationship or your ex is something that always sends you spiraling into very negative thoughts, and tends to ruin your entire day. So how do you go about enforcing that boundary?

Define your boundary as much as you can. Are there any people that you do feel comfortable talking about your ex with, or is this a blanket policy that applies to everyone? Are you okay with people mentioning them in passing, or no mentions at all? If someone in your life is dealing with an unhealthy or abusive relationship of their own, are you comfortable with them coming to you about it, or is that something you feel uncomfortable with? Finding the edges of your boundaries can be a complex task, and you won't always know for sure what you're okay with until you've actually encountered it. That's okay. Do your best to be as specific as you can, and keep in mind that these things may change in the future.

Communicate your boundaries. Your loved ones will not be able to respect your boundaries properly if they are never told what those boundaries are. Even things that might seem like "common sense" to you (like not mentioning someone's abusive ex to them) may not be common sense at all - your loved ones may have had very different experiences, such as having a friend or family member that found it helpful to vent about their ex. Be as clear and concise as you can. In this case, you might want to reach out to friends in advance to let them know that you just don't want your ex mentioned around you, or you can deputize one of your closest friends to pass that message on to other people in your social circle.

Try to be as consistent in your boundaries as possible. I know that your moods and needs may change from day to day, but it can be very confusing for other people in your life if your boundaries seem to change rapidly, and it creates the idea that your boundaries are not "set in stone". If you have a good mental health day and bring up your ex in conversation, your friends may get the impression that your old boundaries no longer apply, and that they can now bring this topic up in casual conversation. Presenting your boundaries as inconsistent and rapidly-shifting also leads to something called "boundary creep" - this is where people start pushing your boundaries in small ways, because they see your boundaries as flexible and subject to change if they just persist long enough. To avoid hurt feelings and uncomfortable situations, it's best not to relax your boundaries until and unless you are ready for that boundary to permanently change.

For small violations of your boundaries, start with "soft enforcement". In cases where the boundary violation is probably a one-time slip-up or mistake, the best way to deal with it may be just to firmly change the subject or re-direct the conversation without necessarily drawing attention to the boundary violation. For minor, thoughtless errors, actually calling out the mistake may be more emotionally taxing for you than the impact of the mistake itself. If you and a friend are discussing a particular TV show, and your friend slips and says "Oh, I remember that Taylor, Sam and [ex] were so obsessed with it", this may be an instance where a soft boundary encforcement may be applicable - perhaps mention a new show that you are watching and firmly steer the conversation in that direction. If the violation was a mistake that was not meant with malice, this is often all it takes for someone to realize that they've screwed up and be more careful going forward.

For more serious boundary violations or repeated small violations, use more direct enforcement. Say you're having coffee with a friend and they directly mention that they spoke to your ex lately and start filling you in on how your ex is doing. Or perhaps your friend who accidentally mentioned your ex in passing has now made several similar errors, and doesn't seem to take the hint when you redirect the conversation. This is situation where you need to be firmer with enforcing your boundaries. This does not have to be a huge confrontation - simply re-state your boundary and firmly redirect the conversation. "I'm actually not comfortable talking about my ex and I want to talk about something else - did you go see that movie last weekend?" Don't use soft language here, like saying that you'd "prefer" not to talk about your ex or that you'd "rather" discuss something else - state your needs clearly, and move straight into a new topic of conversation. This does not have to be a confrontational or emotional conversation, but it does need to be very firm so that there is no possibility of misunderstanding.

For serious or repeat boundary violations, a "hard enforcement" is necessary. If someone goes out of their way to tell you that they don't think your boundary is reasonable, that they have a right to challenge your boundary, or if they simply continue to violate your boundaries over and over again despite direct and clear reminders, this is the time for a more serious confrontation. Sit your friend or family member down and let them know that what they are doing is not welcomed, not acceptable, and that you do not want it to continue. If applicable, point out past instances where they were directly warned about your boundaries, and explain how their violations make you feel. Make it clear that this is not up for debate or discussion; your boundaries are what they are, and if the other person is unwilling or unable to abide by them, the relationship cannot move forward. Explain that you value the relationship and want it to move forward, but that this cannot continue to happen. This does not have to be a long conversation - it should actually be a short one, so that there is minimal opportunity for the other person to try to debate you - but it does need to happen. This kind of conversation leaves absolutely no ambiguities; the person has been directly told that they are harming you and given instructions on how to avoid harming you.

If a person makes it clear that they are just not willing or able to abide by your boundaries, it is probably time to end the relationship. If you have clearly explained to something that their actions are harming you, and they do not change their actions, you can take that as a clear sign that they are okay with harming you and act accordingly. You do not benefit from having a continued relationship with someone who does not respect you enough to avoid hurting you. There is no need for an extended confrontation here - you have already given the person an opportunity to salvage the relationship and they chose not to take it. If you want to let the person know why you are stepping away from the relationship, that's up to you, but if you'd prefer to just keep your distance from that person, that's fine too. If this is a person in your life that you are unable to avoid, like a coworker, keep your distance as much as possible moving forward and avoid unnecessary personal interaction. Respecting boundaries is a minimal requirement in a relationship, and bending over backwards to accommodate someone who is not willing to do that doesn't benefit anyone.

It's important to remember that you are not being unreasonable or demanding for having boundaries. Most of the boundaries that people set in relationships - avoiding traumatic topics of conversation, asking people to respect your sleep schedule, not wanting to be pressured to drink, not loaning out money, etc, etc - are fair, reasonable, and take fairly minimal effort to respect. Even more complex boundaries and needs are easy to respect if they have been laid out in clear, unambigious terms. There is no excuse for a person to continue to trample over your boundaries when they have been made explicitly aware of their existence, and you are not the bad guy for wanting to be treated with basic courtesy and consideration.

#missmentelle #askmissmentelle #relationship advice #relationship tips #friendship #friends #relationships #relationship #boundaries #healthy relationships #mental health

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casperki · 4 years

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Trust Me • Chapter 1

Summary: I led a quiet little life, surrounded by wonderful people. My daily life consisted of taking care of others. I was happy to lead a simple life, until I became the prisoner of the most powerful man in the kingdom.

Theme: Fluff, Romance, Angst, Policy, Power, Adventure, Middle Age, Soldiers

Pairing: Warrior! Min Yoongi x Caregiver! Original Character

Word count: 1,7k

Warning: language, violence, aggressivity

Disclaimer: Storyline, events and characters are fictitious, I only borrow BTS’ members name and physical appearance. Some events may be inspired by historical ones, but they aren’t accurate. Please keep in mind English isn’t my first language, I still lack vocabulary, I do some mistakes and my sentences may not be as pretty as natives’ speaker ones. Don’t hesitate to correct me and give me some advice, I would be more than happy to improve!

- - -

My eyelids are so heavy. However, I cannot sleep. I must stay awake. My back hurts against the strong bars behind me. Every parts of my body hurts. At least it is a proof I am still alive. But for how long? It has been days, maybe weeks or months I have not eaten nor drunk correctly.

My eyelids are becoming heavier. I cannot take a nap now, not now everyone is supposedly sleeping. As days before, the convoy we are stopped for the night to get some rest.

I am exhausted, dehydrated and starving. My brain cannot even think properly nor remember how I managed to get there, with these men. I can only focus on surviving, on staying awake when they are all asleep. I could sleep when the sun rise, when we get back on the road so they will be busy finding their way.

My legs and knees hurt but I cannot expend them. The cage is too small. At least I do not have to walk miles a day into the mud like other prisoners. My crime is to be the only woman of the convoy and probably the last one those prisoners see before a long time. The first night of our journey, I remember falling asleep on the grass, my head resting on the root of a tree, when I felt wandering hands trying to open my dress. I opened my eyes with fear to see a prisoner so closed to me with his hands ripping off my petticoat. This vison terrified me so much that my screams woke up the entire regiment. The closest soldier came in hurry, quickly followed by another one to repel the prisoner and to beat me for being too loud. That was the reason why I ended up being lock into this wooden cage. “you make them hungry” a soldier explained with a look of disgust towards me, acting like prisoners were the only threat for me, like soldiers were not also looking for some fresh meet.

I am freezing even more since the sun is rising. I put my knees closer to my chest and blow on my dirty hands to feel some warm. My wrists hurt because of the tight strings. I can feel the strings encrusted into my flesh.

Daybreak slowly woke the convoy up. Prisoners are allowed to drink some water from the river close by before we get back on the road. A soldier approached the cage with a small bowl-like full of water. This stupid one poured more than the half on my dress trying to give me drink through the bars. I savoured the so rare water, knowing I would not get any sooner. Once the horses are harnessed, we resumed our interminable journey.

The sun was on the zenith when I reopened my eyes. I cannot recognise the landscape around us. I have never been this far from wherever I was coming from. We may have even left the country; I could not tell. The convoy stopped again to drink a bit. A soldier, the one with smalls eyes and an authoritative tone, their leader, told us -more like he yelled at us- we would not stop again until we reach our destination. He didn’t mention our destination before and yet remained silence about where we were going. Finally, I know that we aren’t travelling aimlessly. However, I still don’t know why I am here and who these men are. Thanks to their habits I deduced they are soldiers for the most of them. The others, the prisoners, were poorly dressed, chained to each other.

***

An aggressive yell woke me up. I could not understand what it says. A sharp pain onto my arm made me open my eyes. The dumb soldier was pulling my arm to get me out of the cage. I complied and managed myself to get out of the cage. Looking around I cannot see anything else than darkness. Only few torches light up the convoy and some small buildings. It seemed like we reached a city.

The dumb soldier still holding strongly my arm, an other soldier, taller, places a cloth on my eyes to keep them close. I could hear the leader ordering his soldiers to wait for us here before I hear him going ahead me. The dumb soldier pushed my arm forward, ordering me to walk.

My blindfolded eyes and my exhausted body made me stumble and fall few times. My legs, bent for days in that small cage, forgot how to walk properly, making the soldiers yell at me to get up. After long minutes, I supposed we reached the destination. I could feel a tough floor under my feet and hear footsteps clearly, a paved alley. My body should have guessed we were arrived, my legs gave way to fall on my knees. I could actually feel how exhausted I was. My whole body was heavy and hurt. Every part of myself was painful: my skull tightening my brain, my dried mouth and throat, my heavy rib cage seemed to small to breath properly, my empty stomach and my bruised wrist and knees. It was so hard to breath and to stay up, I desperately wanted to meet the ground to get some rest.

“Ya! Stand correctly!” a soldier yelled at me.

Weariness preventing me to stand on my feet, I tried to push myself back on my knees. I heard what I guess being doors opening and steps drawing near. Was my executioner approaching us? After these hardships, being locked in a cage for days with the minimum of water and food, my dead would be the logical end of this horrible trip. What crime had I committed to deserve the death penalty? Did I even commit a crime? There had to be a reason for that. I should deserve it after all. My end was near. We are supposed to see our life pass before our eyes before dying. But I could not remember anything. Who am I? Where am I from? Do I have any relatives? I had no response. I could only think about how exhausted, dirty, and suffering I was. My only wish is to end this moment, quickly.

“Bow your head whore!!” The leader yelled at me.

I was already struggling keeping myself up due to fatigue and dizziness, bowing my head down would make me fall on the ground.

“Ya! Seriously!” Since I did not obey, the leader slapped me, what made me meet the floor.

“Hey! What is that?” A strong and deep voice came from above me.

I tried my best to sit up back and the soldier on my left pulled my arm up after doing from what I could hear was a military salute.

“My General” The leader spoke. “We just arrived. Here is the prisoner you asked for, my General.”

A general? For my execution? I should have committed a horrible crime, against the royal family to deserve this privilege.

“Prisoner?” The said General asked. “You blindfolded her eyes??” through his tone, the General seemed to disapprove what he was observing.

“Well… That’s what we usually do to bring you slaves, my General.” The leader explained.

“Slaves? I really hope for your wife you treat her better!” The General spoke curtly. By the unknown fragrance reaching my nose, I guessed the General came closer to my face. I felt the cloth being untie. I slowly opened my eyes, but my vision was blurred, I could not distinguish the said General face. I could only see a bright blond hair.

“Why does she look so dirty? Don’t tell me you made her walk the entire journey!” The General’s tone was strict and threatening.

“At first, we chained her with the others prisoners, but we quickly had to lock her-“

“You what?” The leader could not even finish his sentence, the General looked at him with a black gaze.

“M-my General” the leader’s tone became less insured “Prisoners were crazy because of her! They were untenable, they only wanted to touch her and-” Whined the leader.

“Seriously?” The General’s tone indicated how furious he was.

My eyes wide open, I could clearly see the man in front of me. His black gaze contrasted with his pretty and pale face. He was well dressed in expensive clothes, no wonder he was the General of the royal army. I contemplated his face, half fascinated, half scared. I was confused. The most respected and powerful man of the kingdom, after the king himself, was kneeling in front of me, taking my hands into his to cut the rope. So many questions jostled in my head. Why was he so gentle with me? Wasn’t he supposed to behead me? He took his time to look at my dirty hands and bruised wrists. Yet I felt so soil, humiliated and dishonoured in front of the General, in my dirty torn dress, covered in mud. He looked back at me, but I couldn’t handle his gaze because of the shame. Yet I felt a soft warm on each side of my face, I guessed it was his hands.

“Damn it! My poor damsel.” He said calmly. I haven’t known kindness and care since so long time. I felt considered as human again. I couldn’t handle it anymore, I closed my eyes and let my tears rolling down my cheeks.

“You’re lucky I have a debt to your father otherwise you’d be already beheaded.” The General’s tone was firm, threatening the leader.

My tears were unstoppable. I was frozen, starving, dehydrated, covered in mud and this man, this General, was hugging me so warmly to reassure me.

“M-my General I had no clue-“ The leader was freaking out.

“Enough!” The General ordered firmly what made a contrast with his nice but tight hugging. “Park JinSung! Bring them to the dungeon and make sure they don’t come out for a week.”

“But my General-“ The leader spoke again.

“Don’t discuss my order or you’ll be lock there for a month.” The General tone was low but firm.

I tried to calm down while I eared the three soldiers and the guard leaving. The General was gently rubbing my back. All this kindness seemed so weird after what I endured, yet so much appreciated.

“Damsel, everything is ok now.” He whispered calmly. “They won’t hurt you anymore, I promise.”

***

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inkribbon796 · 3 years

Text

Forgotten Light Ch. 2: The House that Thomas Built

Summary: The heroes get some information from an unlikely source.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

Spade’s projection made an eerie, glitchy chuckle. “And Ranboo and Bing call me overly paranoid.”

“Is this a projection or some remnant of this psychopath,” Nate demanded. “What else did this asshole leave in our base?”

“I’ll be brief, while you are no doubt demanding questions of me,” Spade began talking, his form occasionally glitching. “Around our fifth reset, everything went so poorly that it compelled me to start making some precautions. One of them was to ensure you idiots keep your hands off of Thomas.”

“Thomas is fucking dead!” Joan told the projection. “When are people going to listen to the fact that my friend is fucking dead?”

Spade glitched, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Give me a moment, I had to make a whole program to respond to your rather inane questions. How I ever did this before is beyond me. Anyway, ask your question again if you would?”

“I didn’t ask you a question,” Joan spat. “I’m asking for some decorum for the dead, you shitbag.”

The hologram glitched. “Oh, Joan, if I’d registered you were here before, I would have been gentler.”

“What do you want?” Joan demanded.

“To stop all of you from doing something idiotic. These spells can only be undone by myself,” Spade gestured to himself with a smug smile. “Or at least your out of date version of myself.”

“So that’s why you took the camera, Logan told me that Deceit hadn’t been the one to give it to us,” Nate spat.

“My conclusion for our failures to save people is because of your ineptitude and recklessness.” The hologram’s expression crashed into a frown. “My Thomas was corrupted by the deaths of three of the Sides, I wouldn’t have killed Orange if I’d known it had such an adverse effect on him. If you are even hearing this message, I can only assume we were successful in saving Roman and Virgil. A cause to be celebrated.”

“You killed Orange?” Joan balked in horror.

“He made a couple crass remarks about Roman and Virgil, while I was still metaphorically raw, one too many times and I was already in a foul mood, so I beat him to death and absorbed his aura.” The hologram had a dark look in his eyes, his tone chillingly calm.

The atmosphere went terrifyingly quiet.

After some pause, something in the hologram’s programming was directed to say something. “Thomas is not violent, despite what the situation at hand would lead you all to believe,” Spade tried to convince. “I am more than capable of dissecting flesh from bone. Roman’s and the Duke’s weapons can kill with ease. But Thomas has been trapped for years, the camera has kept him asleep for years. I believe that is worth mentioning.”

With that the projection disappeared and the nanites that were in the camera swirled into a small cube that Jackie immediately picked up and raced over to Bing who accepted it immediately.

Jackie was back as the heroes were discussing the situation, Joan picking up the camera and looking at it.

“Trusting a demon who murdered a hundred people is a shit idea,” King shouted.

“The guy could have left an explosive charge and he didn’t,” Mare reminded, walking over to get a good look at the camera. “Pixels here didn’t even try to hurt us.”

“Yeah but a demon not trying to kill us at this second doesn’t mean that it’s lying,” King reminded.

“This doesn’t change the fact that we need Logan, but they won’t be back until Sunday,” Joan cut into the argument as they studied the camera. “There’s nothing we can do about it right now.”

King let out a frustrated groan, “You do realize that if this thing gets out it will kill the Sides as we know them. For all we know, the only reason future Logan was probably able to think for himself was because there were already so many of the Sides dead and something else probably happened to the legate. There’s a lot we’ll never get to learn about the guy because of bullshit time travel.”

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t drop kick this thing into the closest ocean,” Joan shot back, holding the camera to their chest as if they were trying to protect it. “I’m just saying we should wait until the Sides get here to decide.”

Looking away, King was quiet as the heroes put it to a bit of a vote. They all decided to wait, mostly because Joan refused to hand over the camera until they decided to wait. Nate put it back into holding and Jackie went to discreetly check on the Sides in his normal clothes. They seemed fine and greeted Jackie warmly.

Everything was fine, and if they suspected something was wrong, then they never even hinted that there was anything off.

So the heroes waited until the Sides came back from their vacation. As they suspected, Logan knew someone had been in their home the instant he was through the door. When they rushed over to the base, there was white-hot anger in his eyes.

“I think it’s time we had that talk,” Nate told Logan.

Logan stiffened before he started stomping over to King. “Get your hands off of that.”

The logical Side slammed into a barrier as Virgil nervously took a step back and his back collided with a magical barrier that had triggered when they all passed through it.

The anxious Side let out a sharp gasp that immediately drew his three teammates’ attention. Only when Logan was sure that Virgil wasn’t being harmed, did his head sharply whip back to the other heroes.

“What is the meaning of this?” Logan demanded. “Did you all go through our house without permission?”

“Depends,” King’s fingers drummed on the camera and Logan seemed to become angrier. “If we’re talking to Logic, Morality, Anxiety, and Princey then it was for your own good. If not, this conversation is going to turn real nasty, really fast.”

“Worry not,” Roman smiled as he pushed himself in front of Logan. “None of us are that dastardly neerdowell, Deceit.”

“Oh, trust us,” Jackie scoffed. “We’d be havin’ a much different conversation if he was here. Might e’en get better answers, ‘cause yeh all sure as shite ain’t givin’ us any.”[1]

Logan pulled Roman back and the creative Side glared at him and yanked his arm away. “There appears to be some kind of misunderstanding, dispel the barriers and hand over the camera and we can talk.”

“You do know the archives and storerooms have cameras, right?” Nate reminded Logan. “We know you have long conversations with him, so start telling us what you’ve been talking about.”

“What are you talking about?” Logan glared at them.

“Is his name still Thomas or is he telling you to call him something else?” Nate demanded.

“Thomas is dead,” Logan’s tone was especially snappish. “If I could have been in communication with him I would have been years ago.”

“But yeh have been, yeh make yer way inta the storage room an’ yeh talk ta this thin’ but whene’er we try an’ get the audio it’s just a garbled mess,”[2] Jackie accused. “So either yeh tell us, or we’re gonna have ta force a conversation.”[3]

“I have not been talking with that thing, it is an inanimate object not worth talking to,” Logan denied.

“You do,” Virgil informed.

“You kinda do, Lolo,” Patton told him.

“It is a touch unsettling, but I always rehearse lines in the mirror and I hear nerds talk to a rubber duck, so who am I to judge?” Roman shrugged.

“No, I do not talk with some useless object, my coding duck is a completely different matter,” Logan defended, as Joan was loading up something on a PAD. It was a time lapse of Logan casually sitting in the storage room, his mouth moving but the audio coming out a garbled mess.

Logan felt an uncomfortable weight settle in his stomach, “I have no memory of this.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” King scoffed. “It also explains why you don’t have any aura. All the other Sides have aura but you never had any to spare.”

Logan stared at the camera and hazy memories of feeling something in him getting drained away and nothing but empty silence in his head. “I . . . I . . . What is that thing?”

“It’s a very dangerous demon, and when Thomas was spilt he did so incorrectly,” King explained. “And voila, you became his Sides. If this demon gets out or wakes back up it will turn you all into his proper thralls. A legate’s thralls only exist to bring their legate aura and mindlessly serve it.”

“And it’s trapped in that thing?” Virgil asked nervously. “No wonder Dee hated it. How do we keep it from getting out?”

Logan was quiet, just staring at the camera.

“If it is a foe to be vanquished I won’t go down without a fight,” Roman declared, drawing his sword.

“Maybe we could just talk to this legate?” Patton suggested. “We could try it.”

“What part of: if it gets out, you’ll become mindless thralls, didn’t you understand?” King demanded.

“Is it conscious?” Logan asked, silence crashing around the room. “Because if what’s in there is awake, I will rip that camera apart with my bare hands.”

“You’ll free it,” Nate reminded.

“I don’t care,” Logan decided. “Not too long ago I was in the same position. I was trapped in that drive for only eighteen hours, and I was made to suffer in my inability to move and speak. I would not wish such a fate even upon my worst enemies.”

“He’s gonna[4] get out eventually and then he’ll just be more pissed,” Virgil agreed, more than a bit of fear in his voice.

King groaned, “Yeah, you two have a point.”

“We should make a barrier, break the camera and if he attacks, we fight back,” Silver suggested.

“I think instead of the weapons and the magic,” Joan cut in, “the first thing he sees should be me.”

“An unacceptable risk,” Logan told Joan. “If this demon is even a fraction as dangerous as you all insist, you cannot be allowed near it.”

That got Joan a little upset, that Logan was so dismissive about something that was still a part of his old friend. “No, I don’t care. The others aren’t here, and I was one of the last things Thomas saw before he died. If there’s a chance he’s still in there, I want to try it.”

“We’ll be here to move in if he even tries to strike at him,” Silver promised. “Powerful or not, we outnumber him.”

“Fine,” Logan barked dismissively. “Since I’ve unwittingly had the most interaction with him, I should be their bench test for how this demon will react to the other Sides. If it proves to be non-violent or will not consume me, it will be safe to let the other near as well.”

“No!” Virgil shouted in blatant fear.

“Absolutely not,” Roman balked. “What if he hurts you.”

“I would rather him hurt me than you,” Logan decided.

Patton had a determined frown on his face.

“You think you throwing yourself into harm’s way makes it any better?” Roman spat, pointing at Logan. “I am capable of defending myself.”

“I will not watch you die again!” Logan shouted, his glasses glitching for a second and Roman flinched, fear flashing in Roman’s eyes. “You and Virgil are to be protected at all costs, whether than threat comes from hunters, demons, or anything else.”

“Lo,” Roman said, his face a mix of terror and shock. Virgil ducking behind Patton.

“The first thing he put in my head,” Logan clutched at his temples, “was the sight of your dead body, of your lifeless eyes. It is a sight I never wish to see again. Not your death, not Virgil’s, not Patton’s. It would be my undoing. I—”

Patton cut Logan off by hitting him with a hug and held him in a vice grip. “Lo we’re here together and we just wanna[5] help you.”

That finally stopped Logan’s screaming tirade. The warm, physical reminder that someone he loved was still here. Logan’s eyes turned back to normal and Patton held Logan to him. “Hey, come on big guy. We’re all still here and we’ll do this together.”

Logan, stubborn to the end, commented, “This individual has been feeding off of me for years, if I have not been taken as a thrall yet, there is the possibility that it will recognize me and I can convince it not to harm anyone. Will you give me a chance to reason with it?”

“No risks, you wait for Joan, and you run before it can hurt you,” Roman ordered.

“There are too many variables to—” Logan began to refuse.

“The only variable that we care about right now is your safety,” Roman told Logan. “Maybe you trust us for once, yeah?”

Logan looked conflicted, turning away.

Taking his hands, Roman tried to position his head so that he could look Logan in the eyes. “We’re a team, we do things together.”

Finally Logan let out a reluctant, quiet exhale, and closed his eyes. Then he gave a shallow nod.

Patton hugged Logan tighter. “We wait for Joan and the others, and when it’s safe, we all go out together.”

Then we’ll all die together. Logan thought morosely, but he didn’t say anything. His attention instead turned to Virgil who was not doing well with the situation. Between the undercurrent of fear in the room, it was having an adverse effect on his own crumbling mental state.

He was crying, and shaking, little anxious noises coming from him. To try and offer what comfort he could, Logan let go of Roman and gently pulled Virgil towards him.

Immediately Virgil bows his head forward to hide it in Logan’s chest.

Logan leaned forward and kissed the top of Virgil’s forehead. “My darling nightshade, I would let nothing set their finger on you if I were capable.”

Virgil’s stressed shaking began to get worse and he tried to press his head further into Logan’s chest. Logan’s free hand rubbed comforting circles into Virgil’s back as he tried to be as soothing as the situation would allow.

When Virgil stopped shaking as much, Logan could stand to take his attention off of Virgil.

Jack walked over. “Maybe yeh four shouldn’t be in the room when we pop the seal, we get some ‘a yer aura Logan, an’ we can try ta keep yeh guys safe.”[6]

Logan nodded and the other three Sides let him pull away long enough for King and Nate to use his aura to undo all the enchantments Spade had placed on it. Leaving the camera, at last, defenseless. The Sides were allowed to pass through the barrier.

Roman and Patton pulled Logan back into their group as they walked down the hall, turning out of sight.

It left the other heroes to get ready in the somber mood. Joan was finally left alone with the camera and the spell to crack open the camera. Everyone else who wasn’t Joan or a side was behind a protective barrier that Nate and Mare enchanting to keep them invisible until they needed to defend Joan or the Sides.

Nate stepped out to double check the barrier before walking over to Joan. With a heavy sigh he looked down the hallways, “Ready?”

Joan nodded, Nate catching the movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Alright,” Nate took a deep breath as he readied his magic. “3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . Behind the wall!”

Nate pulled and severed the line as Joan took the camera and it shook before it began to glow. Then the camera cracked and a soft white light came from the old device as a person dropped out of the light.

Joan immediately recognized Thomas’s face and they tried to listen for any signs of life. “Thomas” was deathly quiet and still eyes closed before his eyelids twitched and he groaned.

“Thomas?” Joan urged gently, keeping out of direct arm’s reach but moving closer. “Are you okay buddy?”

Thomas blinked open his eyes and began to weakly pick himself up, looking up at his old friend, “Joan?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. We’d be having a much different conversation if he was here. Might even get better answers, because you all sure as shit aren’t giving us any.

2. But you have been, you make your way into the storage room and you talk to this thing but whenever we try and get the audio it’s just a garbled mess

3. So either you tell us, or we’re going to have to force a conversation.

4. going to

5. wanna

6. Maybe you four shouldn’t be in the room when we pop the seal, we get some of your aura Logan, and we can try to keep you guys safe.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #footnotes #Logan Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Roman Sanders #Patton Sanders #Silver Shepherd #King of the Squirrels #Jackieboy Man #Joan Stokes #Natewantstobattle #Natemare #hey there Spade #come by to be plot relevant again?#angst #existential crisis hour #threats of loss of identity #LAMP

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