#its because hes just full of mistrust | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

asolareclipses · 25 days

Text

(Previous Part)

Will stared at the spot Nico had disappeared from for what felt like centuries. His body was coursing with a tornado of emotions; he felt pure fear that Nico might never come back, followed by a rush of anger so strong it took full control of him.

“Are you proud of yourselves?” His voice was cold as ice as he turned to the group that had gathered, everyone was utterly silent.

“Will we didn’t mean to-“ Dana began to say but he couldn’t stand to hear another word.

“Nico has saved this camp, more times than I can count.” Will’s voice was rough in exasperation. “But that’s not good enough for you is it?”

This time he was met with blank stares and ashamed looks from the ones who had joined in the accusations.

“None of you could ever do even half of what he had to do,” Wills hands trembled, whether it was in rage or despair, he couldn’t determine. “Yet you judge him? Pathetic.” He laced that last word with more anger than he’d ever felt, before storming off back towards the big house. He was vaguely aware of Jason following behind him, and the fact that Chiron had witnessed the whole event. He didn’t acknowledge either of them until he entered the big house, slamming his hands against the table as he muttered a few choice words under his breath.

Jason seemed to hesitate before approaching, “Hey…you okay?”

It took all of Will’s energy to not snap at him, “Yep, totally fine.”

“Would you perhaps like to explain what has your tunic in such a bunch Solace?” Mr D was so surprised by Will’s demeanor that he forgot to mispronounce his name.

“Nico’s gone, he ran off or something. I don’t know,” Will sighed in frustration, raking his hands through his hair.

“Ran off?” A tense look displayed itself across Mr D’s face.

“It seems as though di Angelo has decided to take our disturbances into his own hands.” Chiron said, his voice was calm but was laced with undertones of sadness.

“Now why would he do that?” Mr D spoke again, this time his voice sharper as he dug his nails into the table.

“Because he thinks no one trusts him, like he has something to prove.” Wills anger had dissipated, his voice was now struck with frustration. “I don’t blame him either, they all turned their backs on him, just like that.” It was something Will couldn’t understand, he’d never feared Nico; Nico was a hero, yet it seemed like only a few people could see that.

“After everything he did,” Jason’s eyes looked as if they were reflecting a storm, “I can’t believe that’s how they treated him.”

“I believe Nico knows he still has many people on his side, however some of the others mistrust has led him to take on a burden that should not be solely his.” Chiron had a far away look shown across his face, “Fortunately he is not alone.”

“Not alone?” Mr D seemed to be the only one confused as he had not witnessed the earlier events.

“Right,” Jason frowned, “Leo went with him.”

“Great, out of everyone he could’ve taken with him it had to be Valerie,” Clearly Mr D went out of his way to never say Leo’s name correctly.

“We have to go after them,” Will said as his face shone with a sudden sense of pure determination.

Jason agreed as he turned to look at their directors, it was clear he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” Chiron agreed, “but Rachel will arrive tomorrow morning. Seek her advice first, she may be able to point you in the right direction.”

Will wanted to argue, the idea of Nico being out there doing Gods knows what was eating him up inside; but he knew he had to wait if he wanted a better chance at finding him. Jason seemed unnerved too, his usual brave facade was falling apart as a more unraveled version of himself made its way to the surface.

After reluctantly agreeing on the plan they left the big house, walking towards the cabins as a heavy silence formed. In front of them, the sun continued to set across the horizon, filtering the colors of summer across the camp. But despite the warmth an abnormal breeze had stirred up, it seemed to dance around Jason like a visual depiction of his nerves.

“We’ll find them,” Will said his voice boasted by a false confidence he was instilling within himself.

“Right.” Jason’s voice agreed yet his face was still plagued with worries.

“You’re scared, I get it. But you know, Nico and Leo are really strong, they can handle themselves.” Will wasn’t sure if he had the right to comfort Jason when he himself was on the brink of collapse, but he knew that one of them had to be strong.

Jason sighed, stopping in his tracks as he looked up at the darkening sky. “Yeah, it’s just last time…” His voice trailed off as storm clouds rumbled across the reflections in his eyes. “I almost never saw him again.”

Will had nearly forgotten all that had happened with them, how Jason had lost Leo just to find out he was alive. But soon after Leo had to lose him too. The two of them had been in a constant cycle of losing and finding each other, always wondering if the pattern could be broken.

“Maybe it’s not the same but I know what it’s like for someone to disappear,” Will took a breath of the warm summer air before continuing, “The first time I met Nico we were both so young, I was thrilled to meet someone my age but then, poof, he was gone. Years later he showed up again, he looked like a completely different person, yet it was still him. I thought he’d stay again, but just like before one day he was just gone. I think i’ve lived every day fearing he would disappear again, now that’s it’s happened…I just need to have hope that i’ll find him. He’ll be okay, both of them will be okay.”

Will left out the part about how he lost his brother, how one second he’d stood on that bridge and the next he was gone. Whatever was left of him had never been found, it was as if he were never there. He left out how the constant loss of his siblings only burned his fear of loss deeper and deeper into his bones.

“You’re right,” Jason’s eyes seemed to clear even if only just for a moment. “They’ll be okay, they have to be.”

“They have to be.” Will repeated, putting all his hope into those words, all his fear and anger. He was going to find Nico, and everything would be okay.

Everything.

—

That night the Zeus cabin had never felt colder.

As Jason tossed and turned the spot next to him only become more hollow and empty. Without Leo’s soft breathing the room was eerily quiet, without his precence it was impossibly cold.

Jason tried to pry his mind from the old memories, yet he was always led back to that fated day, hearing Leo’s lasts words repeated over and over. The pain still felt fresh, the pain of losing him and then losing himself.

Leo had sacrificed everything to get him back, he’d gone through the underworld and back all for him. Jason could still feel the darkness surrounding them as he followed Leo into the light. A journey never meant to be completed, something said to be impossible was accomplished all because of Leo. From then on Jason knew he’d follow Leo anywhere. But now he had no idea where Leo was. It sent him into this constant state of panic, wondering if he was okay, if he was coming back.

He needed Leo to be okay, he needed him to come back. Otherwise, what was the point of everything that had happened?

It was safe to say Jason didn’t sleep that night, because every time he closed his eyes he saw Leo’s face as he said goodbye.

Morning couldn’t have come sooner. Jason now waited anxiously at his cabins table, unable to stomach much breakfast. He kept looking for signs of Rachel, he could tell Will was just as anxious. He seemed to be having a somber conversation with his siblings who all donned dark expressions. The missing member from the table really seemed to stick out, maybe Nico wasn’t someone you’d really think of as “bright” but he had really brought life to the Apollo table.

Jason almost screamed in joy when he’d heard the sound of helicopter blades suddenly approaching, of course leave it to Rachel to have a dramatic entrance. Both he and Will hurried over to where she was landing, wasting not even a second.

She seemed surprised as she stepped out of the helicopter, “Woah woah, looks like somebody’s happy to see me.”

“Rachel,” Will said in a dire tone, “we need your help.”

“Great.” She sighed, grabbing her bags as she waved off the pilot, “Let’s head to the woman cave shall we?”

After explaining the situation to Rachel her attitude seemed to change, “That’s not good. You know, I have been having some strangely dark dreams.”

“Any of them suggest where they could’ve gone? I mean Nico seemed on edge, he must’ve known something..if only i’d just asked.” Wills voice was quiet, almost as if he felt ashamed.

Rachel closed her eyes for a moment, “A light house.”

“What?” Jason and Will gave each other a puzzled look.

“I keep getting the urge to draw a lighthouse, or lighthouses? Also I saw this school, it must’ve been a boarding school.”

“Do you remember the name?” Wills eyes started to dance with a nervous energy.

“West..um..west something, I don’t know.” Rachel frowned as she tried to recall the name.

Will flinched as she spoke, hesitating before finally saying, “Westover?”

“Yeah, that’s it!” Rachel met his eyes, “How did you know that?”

“It was Nico’s last school, he went there for a while before he came to camp.” The memory seemed to bother Will as he explained, “It’s in Maine, which would explain the lighthouses.”

“Right,” Rachel nodded in agreement, “I knew I recognized the area.”

“So we have a place now right? Westover, wherever that is,” Jason said, the fact they now had an actual location to find gave him a spark of hope.

“It’s our best bet,” Will agreed, yet he didn’t look very pleased. “Let’s go talk to Chiron.”

It wasn’t a long talk, they didn’t even receive a formal quest, it was more like a recovery mission. Chiron seemed reluctant to allow them to leave but he knew the two of them were bound to go no matter what.

As Chiron handed them the keys to a camp owned car and some cash he said, “Be careful you two, I expect you to come back as four, alright?”

Will nodded, “We will make it back, all of us.”

Chiron smiled, and whether it was true smile or not Jason couldn’t tell; nonetheless it was still reassuring.

“Well Jason,” Will turned to him, dangling the keys off his fingers, “Ready for a road trip?”

(Part Five)

81 notes · View notes

absolutebl · 11 months

Text

This Week in BL - Drunken Shenanigans

May 2023 Wk 4

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. Organized by which ones (in each category) I’m enjoying most.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Step By Step (Tues WeTV & Gaga) ep 6 of 10 - this is Thai BL living its best life. Wait, who is Kong? Another ex? Ah just a Boy from the Past. (HI BIG, I love you, when you gunna lead a BL?) Chot & Pat’s friendship is giving me LIFE! It is the best thing in BL right now. Also this show is defining slow burn. Jeng & Pat both primping for their date? Come on! I am so glad I get to start my week with these boys. Also I would like to see the BL (within this BL) staring Up & Rice. They are VERY pretty together.

La Pluie (Sat iQIYI) ep 5 of 10 - I end my week with this one and it’s almost as good as starting with Step. The brothers relationship is pitch perfect younger to middle. P’Pat is serving up yacht rock visuals. (I’m not mad about it. Reminds me of Tay in DBK.) I do like them as a couple I just mistrust Pat’s constancy and motives. Although I am beginning to wonder if his motivation might feel suss because it’s pure lust (and we see that so rarely in a BL we innately mistrust it). Meanwhile, I like that Tai has a younger guy interested in him and with whom he has chemistry too. And it’s the one his brother likes. This is messy gay in a good way.

Our Skyy 2 (Boss & Babe) eps 11-12 - I was drunk for this one, so I thought it was mostly just foolish. While Book seemed to be having a bumper of a time with his role as Lord of Misrule I fast forwarded through a lot of it. It did make me laugh with some of the wordplay, but the fact that they involved an entire office (non-consenting) in their kink rollplay was a bit weird for me. 6/10

Luminous Solution (Sat Gaga) ep 1 of 6 - The subs are truly bonkers (including a few captions that seem the be the subbers notes to themselves). There are 2 lead couples: 1 is an LTR with an overworked doctor & his recently fired husband and the other is an E2L jock+nerd with high school students (way more my thing). It’s actually pretty good for a pulp, the acting is decent and the pacing on point. I’m not mad at it especially now Dome has shown up.

Be My Favorite (Fri YouTube) ep 1 of 10? - I’m doing a trash watch! I was drunk, it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting, but the first 1/4 of a JittiRain BL never is.

Past-senger (Weds Gaga) ep 12fin - thank fuck that ended but also: WTF is with that ending? Guess that’s a massive prospective age gap relationship. I’m… unsettled. (And age gap doesn’t bother me.) Anygay, anydaddy that’s the lingering flavor from this BL: unsettling. You know I tend to judge on endings... full review below.

The Promise (Weds YT & WeTV) ep 10fin - did’t air to YT this week

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Our Dining Table AKA Bokura no Shokutaku (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 8 of 10 - I love this show. I know everything that’s gonna happen and I’m still riveted. Sweetly awkward confession.

Star Struck (Korea iQIYI & Gaga) ep 3-4 of 8 - I’m enjoying the complexity of this one. It’s like a combo of Shoulder and 8th but somehow easier-going than either. Not totally my cup of tea, in a way because of that complexity, but also I faintly mistrust its BL-ness. Also: That was one of the most painful confession scenes ever. Ouch. (Meanwhile, have I mentioned recently I hate icky’s interface? Well I do. Also iQIYI is now officially icky henceforth!)

Love Mate (Korea Thurs Viki) eps 7-8fin - The asshole ex was perfectly cast but I felt a touch let down by this ending - it didn’t have the strength of its convictions. Full review below.

Naked Dinner AKA Zenra Meshi (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 7 of 12 - I like the Taiwanese boss, he knows what’s up. Cool dude. Arranged a sleepover and everything. Also... we win when there is experimental kissing but odds are Japan is faking us out.

Vian the series (Vietnam YouTube ) - is it me or did this not drop? If it did I missed it.

It’s Airing But ...

My Story (Pinoy Sat YouTube) 10 eps - I bounced at ep 4. Someone will tell me if I should bother with the rest after it ends.

House of Stars (Thai Mon iQIYI) 12 eps - I bounced at ep 3. Will binge if told it is worth it at end.

The Day I Loved You (Pinoy YouTube) eps 6-7 of 10 - Terminal illness for the sunshine. I bounced at ep 6. DNF. Ends next week, someone tell me if it’s as bad as I thought it was gonna be.

Takumi-kun Series 6: Nagai Nagai Monogatari no Hajimari no Asa (Japan Sun ????) ep 1 of ? - NO ONE ASKED FOR THIS and no, I have no idea where to get it, why would I? (Say it with me everyone: Oh Japan, must you?*) also I’m really not inclined to hunt.

Ended this week

Past-senger - Marc (My Gear & Your Gown) & Copper (My Engineer) star in a time slip story of a 90s kid who travels to 2022. The central premise was solid and the actors gave it their best but the show was bloated with unnecessary awkward side couples and the ending went from confusing to unsettling to plain old (and I do mean OLD) not good. 4/10 NOT RECOMMENDED, FATALLY FLAWED

Love Mate - Launched very much openly gay older uke with commitment issues and a romantic if arrogant younger seme with no respect for boundaries. Workplace harassment much? That’s BL for ya. (Also a nonBL Kdrama specialty.) So yeah it’s questionable, but so is my taste. The ultimate premise that someone badly hurt shuts themself off to romance is very similar to Happy Merry Ending or 8th Sense but this version was more about fear than abuse or trauma. For me, this made Love Mate more relatable since fear of love makes it about the couple rather than one person’s self-acceptance journey. However, because the denouement in Love Mate was driven by a late in the run faen fatal and not the central relationship, the conclusion felt forced. I can, however, see myself rewatching this one, so if falls into the general rank of 2023′s KBL AKA solid high standard and eminently watchable. 8/10 RECOMMENDED

In Case You Missed It

Both the Egoist (Japanese movie) and Tie The Knot (Pinoy series) got picked up for international release. Tie is coming to Prime. Not yet sure who bagged Egoist but at least it has distribution. These both seem more “messy arse gay” than BL but I have been waiting for them. About Us but Not About Us (2022 Pinoy movie) is also coming to Prime.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting:

6/2 Stay (Pinoy YouTube) 7 eps - Andre, a film maker from the Philippines, works in LA. He finds a Korean-American roommate, Joshua, who helps him navigate the challenges and uncertainties of living in America. The two develop a bond, but then it’s time for Andre to go home. It’s mostly in English and set in LA so I won’t watch this.

6/3 Let’s Eat Together AKA Aki wa Haru to Gohan wo Tabetai (Japan movie) - Japanese cinema release means no inter distribution. Looks cozy: daily lives of college students and roommates who enjoy meals together, and a v codependent, adaptation of yaoi Let’s Eat Together Aki and Haru. I’ll keep an eye open for it but assume we can’t get it for now.

June 2023 Line Up

6/7 Love Tractor (Korea iQIYI) 8 eps - announced in 2022 from WATCHA (Semantic Error) I've been WAITING for this one. About a stressed-out law student who family obligations force into the countryside where a series of strange encounters and misunderstandings with his hunky young farmer neighbour. Will this be an extended version of Strongberry’s Some More? Or Korea’s take on Restart After Come Back Home? I'm chuffed. Country boy meets city boy is a very underused romance trope in BL.

6/9 Boys Love Omegaverse AKA The Boys Love sequel no one asked for (Japan movie) - everyone jockeyed to release the first ABO but it looks like Japan will take it. They do like to do all things BL FIRST. This seems to just be borrowing the branding of Boys Love, showing little resemblance to either original, since it's about 4 men in an idol group. (But could go very dark with that title. Boys Love is technically the first and one of the darkest BLs ever made.) Movie+Japan = no inter distribution.

6/15 Tokyo in April AKA Shigatsu no Tokyo wa (Japan ????) 8 eps - Based on a yaoi, this is a reunion romance that takes place in an office. Japan does Our Dating Sim? Cool. Of course no idea where to watch it. Oh Japan, must you?

6/22 About Us but Not About Us (Pinoy movie from 2022 on Prime) - A professor grieving the loss of his partner meets an ambitious literature student.

6/24 Why You (Khmer BL ????) - Billed as a horror romance, not sure if this is a movie or a series where it will air... nothing except that it exists.

6/24 Tie The Knot AKA Under the Same Sky (Pinoy movie on Prime) Trailer - I guess Prime is coming for our Pinoy BL? From OXIN Films (Rainbow Prince), announced for 2022 based on a true story, Briggs's family runs a bridal business but he has never had a chance to fall in love until he meets Shao, a groom to be.

6/25 Dinosaur Love (Thai ????) Trailer 5 eps - from Ultimate Troop about a cute uni student, Rak, whose partner cheats on him with Rk's best friend. This gives bad boy hazer Dino an opportunity to hit on Rak at last. From The Yearbook people so I will not watch this as it airs. After Remember Me? Never again with them.

2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED)

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

This bit made me bark laugh. The more Thai BL I watch the more I get the word play jokes the funnier they are. Language is so cool.

Dear Boss & Babe your ForceBook is showing.

Yes! One of my favorite dishes too! Nam Khao! Try it some time, you will not regret it. (Step by Step)

These too are gonna break us. (Star Struck)

(last week)

Current Kpop earworm? P1Harmoney’s Peacemaker

123 notes · View notes

ixiot-ghostrebel · 9 months

Text

Yk Back At The Random Ghost Rebel Stuff

A straight up ramble but does anyone feels this retching feeling in their hearts whenever they think about the High Cloud Quintet and its lore and go like "Dang, if only we COULD change what had happened bc this crap is dark and sad as hell" because that's what I feel like right now

And lemme tell you: It's not a good feeling bc I don't even want to think about how they're all just old and tired grannies and grandpas. The only person that has proper solace in the High Cloud Quintet is flipping Baiheng bro—poor Yingxing got turned into Blade bc yk—he's the beloved of that one relic set story.

Dan Flipping Feng becomes Dan Heng and even as Dan Heng he doesn't get a single drop of solace bc now the former-artisan-now-maniac dude is chasing him all across the universe bc of the sins of the past and it's just so heartbreaking bc Dan Heng isn't Dan Feng and Blade is only the shadow of Yingxing (this concept with Yingxing and Blade heavily reminds me of Makoto and Ei—Ei was the shadow of Makato and the shadow of the light is all that remains ykyk)

And then there's Jingliu who just straight up asks her student to kill her if she ever becomes mara-struck and in the end she still lives somehow and then she decides to go full-traumatizer with Blade back when he was the Unnamed that wandered the place—as if he needed MORE trauma and honestly her weak grasp over the mara which in turn makes her insane is so upsetting bc in the end she ends up having beef with a 14 year-old lieutenant who's trying to do his job and protect the Luofu (though, I have to admit it: as much as I want to protect my child Yanqing, his methods were kind of flawed—) even if he doesn't know who Jingliu is.

And ofc we got the last man standing Jing Yuan who just sees ghosts in everyone around him. Istg I feel like bc he sees ghosts, he can't move on from the past, and when he can't move on from the past, it's honestly a red flag bc it might mean that his present relationships with everyone are (sometimes) only just one-sided or something. Like, take the relationship between Yanqing and he: Yanqing trusts the General with his life bc he raised him as a baby. But the fact that he calls Jing Yuan "General" and not some sort of parental title says that Jing Yuan is being unnecessarily secretive due to his fear of vulnerability. I mean—literally in 1.2 Story Quest, Jing Yuan quite literally just left Yanqing on the island alone after he got beat up by two men that have beef with one another, practically leaving him in the dark with no explanation. And even before that, Yanqing was still left in the dark. Jing Yuan doesn't open up easily bc of the crap he's been through, which is understandable, but his lack of explanation backing up his highly meticulous moves—that's not really healthy. In the end, it just leaves a gap of mistrust, be it intentional or not, between Jing Yuan and Yanqing. In some cases, and this one (imo atleast) is one of them, if you don't explain your actions, it pretty much just leaves the person that's been left in the dark with their waves of emotions, which might cost said-relationship between the two people in the long run.

It also seems like (based off what we know of, at least) at least half of Jing Yuan's choices are also connected to sentimental reasons and seeing ghosts in people. I think he sees a ghost in Yanqing (idk who tho—ppl say it's Yingxing bc of his obsession over the sword), he sees one in Yukong (definitely Baiheng), he sees one in Dan Heng (obvious reasons, very evident throughout the game) and possible Bailu (because she's technically being hailed as the next Imbibitor Lunae after Dan Feng's sin), and it could possibly go on. This old grandpa really is comparing the present with his past and that's honestly a little heartbreaking, bc there is a chance that that might mean that Jing Yuan found more happiness (serotonin work hardcore fr) in his past than he does in his present. He should at least be happy enough of the present to not be this sentimental of the past, but he's really suffering of the incidents like bro—

The High Cloud Quintet is like The Five Yakshas from Genshin Impact but with more lore (that we know of) and more angst twists (that we know of) to it fr. It's so heartbreaking and angsty, I both love it, hate it, and cry about it.

Like bro, look at these two groups. It's always a group of five sobbing.

They're all fine as hell too like CMON

81 notes · View notes

inkstainedhandswithrings · 2 months

Text

TBB S3 Ep 5 Thoughts!!

Love Omega’s new outfit

Batcher hanging out with Cross then, I see

Cross is like the dad who continuesly goes “NO PET” and then when you do get a pet they’re suddenly besties

“ITS ECHO” “perfect”

Ah, the duality of man

Love how there’s no end to this dynamic

“What? No hug for me?” “That depends how good your intel is.”

LOVE Echo matching Cross’s causal sass

These two are gonna push against each other a lot huh?

Yanno, given all the promo material, I was kinda expecting Rex to be with Echo when he arrived (hoping phi, the word is hoping.) (she’s delulu.)

“Especially without Tech” 😭😭😭😭

No surprise reactions from Cross through. Means he already knows.

But also, Cross coming in with the solve <3

Is Hunter,,,, JEALOUS??? of the fact that Omega is spending so much time with Cross? Like that SIDEYE when they walked past each other on the platform

Like, God forbid Omega spent time with the member of the squad who everybody is always suspicious of and spends the most time alone

BUT ALSO!!!

“Don’t hold it against him. His only worried about you.” CROSS YOU BIG ‘OL SOFTY!!!

“I’m older than you are, little brother.”

THE CHUCKLE

AND WRECKER GIVING BACK CROSS’S ARMOUR AAAAAAAHHHH

oooohhh the girls are fighting

“Hey, kill each other later.” SIR THE WAY I CACKLED BYE ✋🏻

“He started it.” Sir, are you 5?

MAYDAY’S HELMET

Echo not wanting Omega to see the straight up Bitch fight between Hunter and Cross

TELL HIM CROSSHAIR!!!!!

Jesus Christ, fucking finally

I wrote a post at some point about Cross becoming the mirror held up to Hunter in which he can view his own shortcomings because of his adamant refusal to change AND ITS HAPPENING

“I risked everything to send you that message and you ignored it.” THIS

Hunter’s mistrust in Cross played a big part in Omega getting captured, but also ofc Cross thinks the message was fully ignored, because no one came to save him either

Also Cross just not hiding anymore that he’s always cared for Omega too I LOVE

Love how quick they put that plan together

Batch is Batching :) (almost) (Tech, my love, come back)

“We’ll try to dig through.” “You’ll try?” “Glad you heard me properly.” I AM WHEEZING

Cross patting Batcher

BIG ‘OL SOFTY

Say did Hunter abandon the bandana for a god damn leather strap

wtf

Cross and Hunter walking back to base side by side, when the last time Cross was walking back to this base was with Mayday dying in his arms🥺

Wrecker hugging them both

AAAAAHHH

“See? They always work it out. And I don’t even see any blood this time.”

EXCUSE ME??

i am worried.

Blood??

Was typical??

Jesus Christ

Don’t know how much I appreciate Hunter getting on a high horse and giving Cross advice

Bird flying away from Cross After always being with him on that base, like the shadows of his past leaving his life, now that this period of his life is over (also sun setting, signifying the day is over)

Good symbolism yes

Okokok good episode! Tbh I thought “The Return” would be Echo’s permanent return to the Batch, but narratively that wouldn’t’ve made sense for him anyway. And I am LOVING the fact that it is actually Crosshair’s return to the turning point in his life, followed by his full return to the batch. Like yeah, last ep they re-met, but he hadn’t fully arrived until the end of this episode and GAAAAHHH I love it!

Also the dialogue is just totally A1 chefs kiss mwah this season (or maybe I just appreciate sarcasm)

Loved this one!! Would love to tag Saturn and Steph because I wanna see their thoughts of Echo being back but idk if they’ve seen the ep already and I don’t wanna spoil them so,,, idk guys if you see this hmu lol

#LOVED THIS ONE #good storyline good symbolism good dialogue #they are stepping UP this season #and that confrontation between cross and hunter?#gonna go rewatch that now bc that was some good shit there #star wars #the bad batch #sw tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb Omega #tbb wrecker #tbb Echo #tbb Hunter #tbb s3 #tbb s3 spoilers #tbb spoilers

33 notes · View notes

leportraitducadavre · 2 months

Note

I have 3 long questions that have been bothering me for a while.

1)What actual evidence Konoha had to suspect the Uchiha Clan after the Kyuubi's attack?

I've reread some of my issues and noticed that Minato never actually passed on his info about his confrontation with the masked man (Obito) to the Leaf. He suspected he was an Uchiha, Madara, but he went from his fight straight to the Kyuubi and then straight to the shinigami's belly. he really chose to die instead of raising his son, I can't believe there's a dad worse than Boruto!Sasuke

So what evidence they had to point the finger at the Uchiha Clan? There were bodies left behind and the Kyuubi was summoned through a jutsu to Konoha, instead of breaking out by itself and rushing over from the hideout, so everyone can see that it wasn't just the complications from childbirth breaking the seal but an actual attack by someone. The only one who managed a contract with the tailed beast was Madara, but he only managed that after he left the clan didn't he?

Did Konoha really just go full racism (because they were halfway there) against the Uchiha without any proof? they were right in the end, but honestly i think it's their fault for not attempting to retrieve Obito's body so screw them

2) Was Obito's attack on Kushina a genuine attempt on extracting the Kyuubi?

The order of events are a bit weird but I don't think Nagato summoned the Gedo Mazo at the time of Naruto's birth, so was Obito just gonna sit on the Kyuubi until then? It was the best time to attack and he dealt a big blow against Konoha, but what was the plan after that?

3)Was the Uchiha Massacre part of the plan by Madara and/or Obito, or was it just a side venture?

In one hand, the order came from Konoha. In the other, Obito definitely knew what was going to happen after doing something only an Uchiha has done before.

Could Obito have consciously implicated the Uchiha with the Kyuubi attack?

They had not a single shred of evidence that someone within the clan controlled the Kyuubi, they based their theory of an Uchiha monitoring its actions upon their prior knowledge of Madara’s capacity to control it; they decided that the possibility of one of them incurring in such behavior was enough to move the entirety of the clan to the outskirts of the village, reinforcing their surveillance via Anbu. They weren’t “right in the end” because their suspicions implied that an individual/group within the clan orchestrated the attack, and Obito operated from outside it and Konoha. It was the government's actions against the Uchiha, supported by these unfounded suspicions, that gave Madara (and not even to the man himself but to his mistrust, passed on by word of mouth after his desertion) enough supporters inside the family, who started to voice complains about their mistreatment and sought change –diplomatically at first. Itachi learned prior to their massacre that there was, in fact, someone who presented himself as Madara lurking in the village’s borders, a founder that the clan itself turned against when he wanted to leave the village, Itachi either conveniently kept such information until after the UCM or the Elders willingly ignored such data, choosing to solve their diplomatic struggles with one of the founder’s clan by massacring them entirely. Itachi even sought Obito’s help to kill his family, further proving that he knew “Madara” operated outside the clan and Konoha, as he was willing to kill those who “turned his back to him.”

Yes, Obito planned to extract the Kyubi and break havoc in the village (he summoned the Kyuubi upon Rin’s grave, that should tell you a lot of his reasoning), I’m not sure if he planned to seal the Kyuubi inside someone specifically for harvesting it after more easily, or if he wanted it to roam free until he could use Nagato’s eyes to summon the Gedo Mazo (using it in the meantime). Likely his plan was hardly thought through, as he gained information about Kushina giving birth by spying on Kakashi, so he knew the seal that kept Kurama inside her was to weaken due to her condition. He even became far more patient after Kyuubi’s attack, so perhaps he was mostly impulsive and was able to tame his emotions far better after such an experience.

I believe that the massacre, while not part of the original plan, became an important aspect of their ultimate goal, as by killing the Uchiha, Obito guaranteed that there would be few Sharingan-wielders that could compromise their plan. Obito’s logic was that no matter what he did in the real world, nothing of it would have any say in the IT universe, as everything can be undone or modified at his will.

Could Obito have consciously implicated the Uchiha with the Kyuubi attack?

No, I don't think he did it consciously, after all, he didn't make sure someone outside Minato knew of his implication in the matter, that was something that happened outside his control.

#obito #obito uchiha #madara #madara uchiha

22 notes · View notes

gale-gentlepenguin · 1 year

Text

Gale's Thoughts: Derision

So the new Episode dropped a bombshell. It revealed just how much Marinette's past impacted her.

And before I write out everything

I will be talking the Good and the Bad

Spoilers obviously

So to make this as simple as possible.

Chloé bullied Marinette for years. While most of the school students were terrified of Chloé. Even the teachers and Principal were afraid to do ANYTHING regarding Chloé. Considering how much influence her father as Mayor had.

Socqueline was like an older protective sister to Marinette. During this time, Marinette developed a crush on Kim, his Himbo butt. Chloé found out about that and used it as an opportunity. Using Kim's inability to tell when something is too far, goes along with Chloé's idea for a prank.

This results in Marinette thinking Kim was serious about a relationship only to be offered a box full of bugs and causing her to fall into a pool as Chloé mocked her. Thus explaining Marinette's MASSIVE trauma on trust and why she plans out everything, why she distrusts any friend of Chloé and why she must know everything about someone before she can let herself confess.

Now this is sort of crucial as it explains why Marinette is how she is. As well as why even though things are going great with Adrien she cant fully embrace it.

Lets start with

THE GOOD:

This allows us to explain a lot of Marinette's insecurity and mistrust. Marinette wanting to NEVER let herself be caught off guard also explains why she is so gunho about planning everything. It also give support on why she was so HARSH to Adrien in Origins. He embodies nearly everything she swore to be against falling for. Mysterious boy, Friend of Chloé, and hiding things. Adrien was Marinette's antithesis as a person to fall for... YET SHE DOES ANYWAY. Showing how good of a person Adrien is, and how Marinette's heart can feel that truth within her. It also explains why Marinette was so obsessive in learning EVERY single thing she could about adrien. It wasnt because she was obsessive or hyperfocusing, she was so traumatized from the pool incident she never wants to be caught in such a position again.

This also goes to show how Socqueline was more of an impactful person to Marinette. But does make me question why she would not even be MENTIONED in season 1 (aside from the obvious that this was tacked on this season). But also explains why Marinette keeps her hair like that, as a sign of respect to Socqueline.

This also shows how great Adrien and Marinette are together. Adrien is ready to defend Marinette, and he is willing to go to great lengths to protect her. (Even kill). It was great to see Adrien be so understanding and wanting to make sure she is comfortable every step of the way. And it just adds so much to Origins.

The Bad:

It really just makes almost everyone else involved seem really awful.

Chloé and Sabrina being such awful people to her that you would think Marinette would NEVER let them touch a miraculous, even if she was desperate. Kim too but... she never initially chose Kim and/or likely repressed that trauma filled moment as a mental defense mechanism. But definitely doesnt explain Chloé and Sabrina.

Damocles, Mendeleiev and even Sabine dont come off that good. Sabine only getting a few points by having Socqueline step in to watch over Marinette. Now I heard its hard to change schools in paris, but I think after 3 F***ING years Sabine and Tom would havve done something. So it really doesnt seem good here.

It also really lampoons all of season 2 and 3 for chloé's development. All those appeals of genuine emotion. Nope, always evil and vile. The fact Marinette and the rest of the class even TOLERATED Chloé is straight CAP.

Kim also just loses a ton of likability here. I dont care how oblivious you are, WHY would you think Marinette would enjoy a prank at HER expense, especially when suggested by someone like Chloé? Did Kim really not get Chloé was evil?

This episode also makes episodes such as Animaestro so much worse. Marinette KNEW Chloé's type of pranks and still went along with it. Like even if you repress that traumatic event, the 3+ years of bullying. Marinette's reason for NOT choosing her in Loveater suddenly feels WAY more justified and NOT a mistake. Girl has trauma.

Marinette's empathetic nature towards Chloé now seems completely foolish. Anyone that knew Chloé should be convinced she is a hell spawn.

The fact Lila is friends with Chloé should put everyone on red alert.

This really makes me wonder how Marinette can even be remotely understanding of Chloé. It also makes Maledikator SO MUCH WORSE. Everyone was completely valid in Partying. Like damn.

Though ignoring Chloé, I guess the main thing is that this flashback brings up things that clash so hard with previous seasons and episodes. In origins, it made it seem like marinette had no friends. But in truth, Marinette did have a friend, even if she wasnt in the same year. I know not everyone knows of the prank going too far thanks to Socqueline, but Kim seemed more than happy to talk about the prank. You dont think word spread through his dumbass mouth?

______________________________________________________________

Overall the episode brings up a lot of interesting tidbits about Marinette's character and is a net gain for the Adrinette relationship. But at the cost of previous canon and brings forth more problems than it solves.

I wish this was actually a two part episode where we could have gotten more to flesh things out. Maybe explain that Marinette feels guilty over Socqueline being suspended and stopped talking to her for a while. Or maybe that after the big prank. Socqueline showed up to Chloé's place and told her to back off since now there was NOTHING holding her back from an ass beating. There is more I feel like could have been done.

#ml #gale thoughts #miraculous ladybug #derision #ml derision spoilers #ml critical

80 notes · View notes

kvothbloodless · 7 months

Note

skitter and bitch are a t4t lesbian couple but wildbow is too much of a coward to admit it

This Does sound like something id write bur i actually do think something is lost by making Taylor trans. Not like, anything Major, or that couldnt be elevated by other changes, but as is, I think such an important part of her is that her incredible sense of universal alienation is Without any justification.

Like. Shes so wholy internalized the view of herself that emma and sophia hammered into her, so internalized the fact that No One Will Ever Help Her, and this just like...isnt universally true? The Undersiders take to her right away (Bitch aside), and that was With her having the self-fulfilling belief that theres no point in reaching out because no one will ever like her. The Only reason she has the issues she did with the heroes is that Armsmaster poisoned that well, but it also serves to reinforce this belief, which gets pretty quickly dispelled (somewhat) (to the readers) once she joins the Wards.

But if shes trans, then suddenly there Is an actual reason for her to be mistrustful of strangers, for her to assume that if people really Knew Her, theyd dislike her. Because thats like, an actual valid worry in a world with widespread tranaphobia. It wouldnt in Any way reduce the bite of it, but it Would muddle the themes from stuff like Sophias bullying of her explicitly being overlooked because shes a Ward, beacuse now theres a secondary, separate motive for that. Hell it even somewhat muddles the issue of the bullying itself. Sophia targets her because shes weak and just takes it, not out of any larger beliefs. As it stands, the fact that No One steps in is entirely due to structural/cultural issues. Adding transphobia as a potential motive there sort of muddies that.

To be clear, having taylor be trans Could be amazing. All of the above arent really issues, so much as an opportunity for a new direction for themes that would need to be explored in full in order to keep the story from losing something. And having those themes Would add to the story A Lot. Worm definitely is lesser for having a central theme be the various circumstances that drive people to various moral actions and necessities, and then not exploring how specific forms of bigotry contribute to that on a wide scalw.

But like. Wildbow is too much of a coward to even leave it open to Interpretation whether either of them Might be attracted to women, so its not like id trust him to explore the themes of transness alienating you from a transphobic society, or to tie in his themes of society (and heroes) creating their own villains with that. I think he handled Averys coming out arc (and Veronas realizing who she is arc) in Pale Extremely well, but i still wouldnt trust him to write a story where "living in society while being queer" is a central theme.

That said, Rachel and Taylor would absolutrly have fucked sloppy style if Taylor had been with the undersiders longer, and Wildbow is a coward for disagreeing with this fact.

Hmm. This got away from me a bit. Anyways. Woe, long psot be upon ye

#worm #parahumans #wildbow #long post #sorry this just sort of happened

33 notes · View notes

kmenkea · 7 months

Text

Bloodlust - Part 1

A/N: This is the first chapter of my Astarion Fanfic. It will mostly follow actual in game conversation, but I will expand on them greatly. The main reason I'm writing it is because I felt like there was a gap in all these stories: none of them had an explicitly evil or morally grey Tav. I like my anti-heros and I want to share this love to everyone.

Leeith is the character I'm playing (first run, still at act 2). I made up a whole backstory for her, so excuse me while I also try to develop her.

I have a plan of where things will go and I might keep writing even after the events of the game.

Other than that, feedback is very much appreciated. I tried to stay true to the companions personality, but it is hard to write characters which aren't my own. Hopefully it won't ruin your experience.

I will also try to add a quick doodle to each chapter.

The smut will come in like 2 chapters, but I did leave some breadcrumbs around.

There's lots of Gale hate because he insulted me and I never forgave him.

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: Leeith is quick to mistrust. Astarion seemed extremely suspicious that night. Fortunately, he was just thinking about their companions blood. The pair decides to take some time to themselves, away from the party.

Read on AO3

Leeith’s eyes were transfixed in the fire, chin resting on her knees to relax. The moon was high up in the sky, casting its light on the camp. They had set it up in a clearing, where a large rock stood in the middle, overseeing all the tents that had been put up around it. The place was quiet and green, covered on most sides by the mountains, except that for a little lake, which sang its song: calm waves caressing the shore. Some bedrolls were laying around the fire, for whoever preferred to sleep near the pit, rather than alone.

The drow was one of them: being in the centre of camp meant that it was going to be a lot harder for any threat to sneak up during the night and slit her throat without anyone noticing. Plus, she didn’t know how to put up a tent. It just looked horrible, barely able to ward off the wind and rain, giving free reign to the cold to bother her all night long. The underdark was much better, full of caves and alcoves to hide, with little rain to worry about. The only thing she would miss if she returned back home was the gentle light of the moon and all the stars.

The drow extended her hand out, testing the flexibility of her wrist: she had slipped in a puddle of mud and down a small cliff the day prior. In the fall the clothes had got torn apart, too damaged to repair even with magic, so Shadowheart had to part with one of her suits. It wasn’t too bad, and the drow was actually happy with the change: the dark cloth suited her better, bringing out the colour from her pale grey skin. Her hair was a black, grey and red mess, as if she was hit by one of her own eldritch blasts, but that was the norm for her. It was much easier to just take a dagger and shorten it whenever it was needed, than having to deal with braids and coils, just for it to look like a bird nest right after any fight.

The stinging pain returned when she flicked her wrist too fast: the bone wasn't broken, but the flesh still swelled up. That was her casting hand and the recoil from her blasts wasn't helping the recovery. Alas, she couldn't take the time to rest. Everyone relied on her planning and she certainly didn't trust anyone enough to go out without her present to keep track of everything.

Many of her companions were reliable fighters, above all Lae’zel, strong and able to perform all tasks with extraordinary efficiency. She respected her, even if she was hard to deal with at times: her arrogance came from mastery of her abilities, so it was righteous. Shadowheart was quiet, but didn’t seem the type to backstab anyone. The cleric had two motives: she wanted her mission to be over and the tadpole out of her brain, the best way to get both was to travel together. Then there was Wyll and Gale: the first seemed too much like an honourable hero with a heart of gold. The drow didn’t trust him one bit. Her methods were ruthless and often involved cruelty, so she would rather keep him occupied with other errands, than take the chance of him making a scene during a crucial moment. Gale, well, he was just an asshole and not the funny kind. His ego was inflated like that of a beholder, always spewing some bullshit about how great he was compared to everyone else. She didn’t feel like that at first, but his comment on her being just a lowly warlock, rather than a learned and mighty wizard like him, had hit just the wrong nerve. He was relegated to cannon fodder for now.

Which left her with one last person, reliable for sure, but something always felt off. More off than him being a blood-sucker spawn. Too nice, too perfect, too flirty. Just enough mistakes to make her believe that maybe that was his true self. Enough said about his past for her to know what she was dealing with and what his motives were: control the tadpole, kill Cazador, gain freedom. Commendable. And useful. Just as a spawn, Astarion already had an edge, a natural talent that only required a few drops of blood to kick in; a full vampire would have proved a most formidable ally. But only if it was governable.

As she laid there, analysing and planning, Astarion's eyes were darting around, pensively. He was trying to hide his face with the large book in his hands, staring at the words, before gazing back up again; in all this time the page had been turned maybe once or twice, so either he was reading a very difficult passage or, more likely, was just trying to conceal some plot that was forming in his head. A good few times Leeith caught him staring at her, but their eyes never met. She wanted to lull him in a sense of false security, so that the drow could learn what his intentions were and why he was checking everyone out.

Her patience though was wearing thin and Astarion seemed pretty content to stand there still. The elf’s sanguine gaze fell on her again, but this time, it was met. She could almost see her reflection in it: they shared the same eye colour, though for her kind it wasn't unheard of to have red irises. The vampire didn’t flinch, appearing nonchalant even after having been discovered with his hands right in the pie.

Leeith stood up, dusting some ash away from her bottom and walked over to him with a smirk.

"Astarion!" she started. "How are you doing this fine night? Is that book any fun? You seem extremely absorbed by it." Her arms followed her words theatrically, to end up crossing in front of her chest. Astarion closed the book, holding it below the armpit.

"There you are. Quite a fine and serene night, made all the better by your presence." He put the book on a nearby table.

"You're too gracious. I didn't know surface elves were still taught courtesy… or discretely ploying." He seemed unfazed, still observing her from under his brow. Leeith walked past him, to sit in one of the many pillows which adorned his tent, giving it a pretty cosy atmosphere. The bit of blood splatter around, she did not mind. The elf soon followed, remaining at arms distance.

"I was just thinking about you." He sighed and shook his head with grace, the curls falling barely out of place. "And about that delicious moment we shared the other night." Leeith didn't even need the gestures towards her neck to understand what he was talking about. This had yet to explain why he was studying everyone, but she was starting to get a hitch of the reason.

"The moment when you bit me?" She decided to still play along.

"The very same." He nodded with a smile that looked genuine. For just a moment, his gaze fell down at the ground, absorbed in thought. His expression changed and though it still held a smile, it was also a lot more serious. For a moment more, no words were uttered, so that the only thing they heard was the lake and the crackling fire. His hands fiddled together for a split second, in search of the right words

"I've had this… condition for two hundred years. But, truth be told? You were my first." Those last few words were quiet, almost a whisper, but a smirk still lingered on his lips. The drow raised an eyebrow, harbouring disbelief and a slight weird sense of pride, if what he said was true. She didn’t get to rebut with anything, that his face returned jolly and his eyes skimmed over everyone once again, studying them and thinking gods-know-what in that wretched mind.

"In all these years I've only fed on beasts. Drinking the blood of thinking creatures is a different thing entirely." The vampire leaned closer, barely able to contain his hunger. "You were delectable." He purred, gently tracing Leeith’s neck, where two dark punctures were still more than visible. Leeith flinched at the unexpected touch, suddenly aware of how close they were laying. Astarion moved back, amused and excited, happy almost. "And now, I can't help but wonder how the others taste!" He laughed, gesturing towards the camp. Leeith holstered the imaginary dagger she was holding, grateful she didn't have to deal with a traitor. The smile returned to her lips, as she dropped her defences.

"Are you looking at other necks? I'm hurt!" Every word was filled with fake indignation. "I really thought we had something special, instead here you are, traitor, after I took your bit-rginity… that sounded better in my head." Astarion chuckled, if at her or at her pun she couldn't tell.

“Don’t worry, there’s enough of me to go around. I’m a man of tremendous appetites!” He placed a finger over his lip in thought. “Not that I think they’d volunteer, of course, but it doesn’t make me any less curious” He rested his weight on his elbow stretching his legs out. She did the same, propping her head up with one hand. Most men and women here on the surface looked so plain, with their brown hair and brown eyes. Even those with some special characteristics, like the devils, had little that interested her. But the vampire was different, skin and hair so fair they glimmered in the light and eyes red like her own, that spoke of subtle blood and violence. It was the charm of bloodlust that made him so attractive in her eyes, of stopping at nothing to survive and thrive, but revelling in the chaos caused, not be ashamed of the cruelty. More than once Leeith needed to defend the vampire from their travelling companions, especially the morning after being bitten. Truth be told, Astarion seemed more than ready to suck her dry that night. It made sense now: after two hundred years of wandering in the desert, thirsty and with rocks and knives thrown at him, the pale elf had found a source of clear water.

"Take Gale for example," the voice shook her awake from the vision of them laughing from high atop a mountain of corpses. "He strikes me as someone whose blood is rich, refined, like a well aged brandy.” Astarion twirled an imaginary glass. “But the Gith? What in the hell would she taste like?” The elf looked up, catching the drow’s eyes.

“Surely something exotic, like an Amnan liqueur.” Discussing the taste of blood wasn’t in tonight’s plan, but they were both having fun.

“Ohh! That sounds very appealing. I’m almost convinced.” She didn’t know if the other’s could listen and, frankly, she didn’t care. For the first time since leaving the underdark, the drow had met someone that did understand her. Being labelled as a mindless monster, just because he had been cursed to be a spawn, isolated him. Leeith too was always labelled as a low-life murderer because of her lineage, but she enjoyed the fear she’d strike in those below her.

“Could I convince you to kill someone less useful?” She raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

“No one is getting killed, I swear. We’re just- two friends talking.” He waved his hands between them. “So - in the spirit of theoretical questions - if you had to take a bite from one of them, who would it be?” He got closer, raising his eyebrow. For once he sounded actually happy, not just cheeky and overconfident. Leeith pondered, staring up at the stars. She glanced at him, noticing how his hair captured the colour of the moon and the light of the fire.

“You, of course.” His eyes opened up and he couldn’t hide a grin.

“Oh! I’m flattered. Who knew you had such taste.” His ego kicked in again.

“That… and the fact my blood doesn’t come free. It’s only fair I get a taste of you, after I shared my own.” Leeith reached up for his neck and, like he had done previously, caressed his scars. The feeling of cold skin was strange, even if she had lingered only an instant.

“Of course. It was a gift. One I do intend to repay.” His voice was much lower now, returning to his flirtatious attitude.

“All this talk made me realise I would love to get treated to a bottle of fine wine.” Leeith sighed. “You surface dwellers really do have much sweeter wines than the sour water we get downstairs.” Her gaze returned to Astarion, but wasn’t met. He was sitting back up again.

“Unfortunately, it will have to wait. All this talk is getting me hungry. I’d better find something I can actually sink my teeth into.” The vampire looked ready to be back on his feet.

A thought crossed her mind. Should she act upon it? It seemed like the perfect time and, truth be told, she was starting to get a soft spot for the elf. Laying there on those pillows, she moved her hair away from the neck, freeing her scars.

“And where would you go? Am I not delectable anymore?” She grinned, raising her arms above her head. “Unless of course you have acquired a taste for goblin.”

“Oh- well.” He fumbled, surprised by the offer. “Of course. I didn’t expect you enjoyed it enough to offer yourself again.” His cocky tone would have almost sounded perfect, if it wasn’t for the fact he didn’t move. He was stuck sitting there, waiting for something; a question still lingered on his tongue. Yet still, he couldn't help lick his teeth and lips.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much.” Leeith was tense, but still tried to keep a calm demeanour. “As you said in the past, I need you strong. If a bit of my blood is enough, then you can have it. I trust you won’t go overboard this time.” Astarion looked around camp. A few too many glances were being thrown in their direction, even the dog seemed to stop sniffing around just to focus on them. Leeith noticed too.

“Should we wait ‘till after dark?” His tone was hushed, but it didn’t mask his excitement.

“If it’s more comfortable for you not to have eyes on you, sure. In my opinion, it’s their fault for not looking away.” She giggled and stood up, stretching her back. “Well, I’ll go eat something more myself. Have a fun time with your book.”

Leeith returned to the fire, calling Scratch to her.

Not much time passed before everyone said their good nights to one another. Leeith spent the time studying a map of the region, thinking of ways to best ration their food during the following days of travel. The light kept getting dimmer in the fire, so she'd just chuck another log in. Scratch was sleeping beside her, shaking his paws at times. She glanced at Astarion's tent: the elf had the flap pulled down, but she could sense movement inside. They were the only two souls awake in the camp. He didn't need much sleep; she didn't feel the need to either, but her body was still weary and hurt in places. She wanted the day to be over and finally rest. The map was folded and put back in the backpack, then she walked to Astarion. The drow knocked on the floor and whispered his name. It didn't take long for him to appear.

"Yes, darling?" He was shirtless. Leeith took her time to respond, not really knowing how to ask. "Did the cat get your tongue?" Something metallic caught a ray of light. A moment later it was gone from his hands.

"I- well, are you still hungry? I am pretty tired, I kind of want to be done with today." She motioned at her bandaged wrist.

"Mh, I didn't think you were this impatient." Astarion made his voice deep, glancing at her with a seductive grin. "Well if you can't wait I'll find a boar or rabbit to snack on. Don't need to miss your beauty sleep for me." He disappeared back into the tent, but Leeith followed him.

"I can wait, just need an estimate." Sprawled on the floor there were a few bottles of blood, some empty, some full. At least the drow didn't have to ration the food for him, since he could provide for himself. More weirdly though, she also saw a pair of scissors, some thread and a small metal box full of pins. His white shirt was laying on the ground, the collar ripped off.

"I know you aren't a vampire, but you could have still asked before entering." He barked, annoyed at this invasion. The elf picked up the shirt and began to pin and sew the collar back on.

"Well, it's not like you're doing anything weird here. I didn't know you liked sewing… you could have fixed up my clothes instead of forcing me to borrow Shadowheart's!"

"I'm afraid your clothing was beyond repair even before it got torn apart. If anything that might have helped make it look better."

"Tks, I'll show you what true luxurious clothing is like; the underdark has the best spider silks imaginable, they feel like water around your body. You surface dwellers know nothing."

"And yet none of your ancestral fashion knowledge got to you, did it?" Replayed him. Leeith crossed her arms and furrowed her brow. If he was any other person, he would have already been made into a fine mist of gore, but his tone was too sarcastic for her to take it seriously.

"I'm done." he said at last, donning his shirt back on. "After you, darling." He pointed to the outside. The drow crawled away, soon followed by tonight's companion. Astarion stepped in front of her and, after making certain no one was around, directed her through a small hidden path. He was more than excited: she could see it in the way his hands trembled, his eyes flickered eagerly towards her, to make sure she was still following. Leeith caught him licking his lips once, the phantom sweetness of her blood still lingered on them.

Finally they got to a small river, with little flowers growing everywhere. It wasn't any random spot, the elf had put thought on where to lead her. Did he think a cute flower bed would have made her more trusting? Or was he just a romantic, wanting the moment to feel special for him? Not that it mattered. He didn't even need to set up a trap since the drow had offered herself.

"So?" She sat down, crossing her legs and looking up at the man. He soon followed, landing at her side, closer that he had ever been. She expected warmth to come from him, but again, nothing but cold dead flesh.

"So? Want to admire the stars before I go?" He teased, brushing her hair away from her neck. His hand fell on it, caressing it. His skin was soft and cared for, unlikely for a warrior. It smelled of fancy cologne and fabric soap.

"Maybe I will, Astarion. You don't seem that hungry after all." Leeith stretched her legs out, then lowered her head to the ground. Her eyes did search for the moon, but it was hidden among the clouds and leaves above her. Finally she shut them, bracing herself for the bite.

"What do you gain out of this? Why are you doing it?" He blurted out, not having moved an inch. His eyes were still bloodshot, but he was controlling himself. Leeith was puzzled.

"Nothing really. Why are you asking?" She lifted one of her eyebrows and rested her weight back in her elbows.

"You said it yourself, I'm borrowing your blood and you want something in return. What is that?"

"Well, I suppose it's true I never do anything for free, but I don't know. I wasn't actually expecting anything back. Again, you can treat me to a bottle of wine if you want, but otherwise, I'll be fine. It's just some blood, a good night's rest will take care of it."

"So, is this just… out of the goodness of your heart?" The way his voice got higher, it almost made him sound offended.

"Oh yes, Astarion. When the gods were handing out goodness, I skipped everything regarding not murdering people or threatening them, and grabbed bucketfuls of selfless vampire feeding acts. My soul aches for all the poor little starving vampires of this world." She placed a hand over her heart. His expression was undecipherable, a mix between confusion and indignation.

"Relax, Astarion." Leeith sighed and dropped the act, understanding his displeasure. "I don't know why I'm doing it, but it does help you, doesn't it? I see the way you fight and act after being able to eat something proper. It's a completely different you. A better you. I need that."

"Is this it?" He was still unsure. Was this it? Not even Leeith could tell. There wasn't a reason to give herself out like that. He was a perfectly good assassin even when hungry. The only ulterior motive was gaining his favour, so he’d still be on her side once killing and drinking Cazador. Not that she was going to tell him that. She scrolled her shoulders.

"Guess so." At that answer, he smirked again, returning to his old bastard self.

"Shall we make ourselves comfortable?" The vampire guided her down, supporting her head all the way. His body shifted over hers, putting his weight on his knees. For a moment, Leeith hoped his fingers would caress her stomach and move upwards to her ribs or down to her thighs. That didn't happen. Astarion just used his other hand to keep himself hovering above her. The drow closed her eyes and exposed her neck. A sharp pain followed. She whimpered and gripped his shoulders tight, clenching her jaw almost enough to break some teeth. Then the pain faded, substituted by a dull humming above her shoulder, in rhythm with her heartbeat. Astarion's tongue lapped at her skin.

"Easy now." He murmured, still with his lips on her. Was it just a thought he had? Leeith swore she could sense herself in his mind and him inside her. A similar feeling to the tadpole, but more fuzzy, deep into the recesses of their soul. The drow smiled, feeling his bliss as hers, the excitement of blood awakening something in them. For the first time, his body felt warm, alive, as he kept clinging to her sweet, sweet life. The elf was on edge. He didn't want this to finish, it felt better than any sex or drug or wine he's ever had. Just a moment more, just one more drop. Leeith’s mind was well and alive, shaking in shared joy. He needed this more than gold; he needed her to stay, to defend him from others. He couldn’t let the drow grow bored of him. As long as she trusted him, he wouldn’t have had to worry about monster hunters or Cazador’s goons; the warlock would have scared them off and, failing that, she was more than capable of crushing their bones. Her body was warm like the sun under him; He was going to cling to it for as long as he could.

The cold arrived too soon. The connection broke for an instant, as the drow below him got weaker. A wake up call.

He lifted his head up and almost felt like he needed to catch his breath, but his lungs were still dead. The vampire admired the wound on her neck: he had done a perfect job, with very little blood running off. They shared a glance as he went down on it again, just licking the few droplets on her shoulder.

Leeith tested the wound with one hand once he sat up. It hurt like hell, but it wasn't bleeding a lot. She undid the bandage on her wrist and used that to pat her neck dry. Astarion, by her side still, was brimming. His eyes were alive and shining like rubies, a faint smile was on his lips and he seemed not to have noticed that a drop of blood was about to fall down from his chin to his prized shirt. They sat in silence for a few minutes. The drow was the first to break it.

"So your hobby is sewing." She noted.

"I would call it less a hobby and more a useful skill. It's not like Cazador would give me his hand-me-downs." He spat, bile raising from inside of him.

"You're free now. You could buy anything you want."

"I quite like my clothes. And besides, where should I get anything? Maybe if we were in Baldur's gate I’d think about it, but here I could at best cover myself with twigs like those druids."

"Uhh… you wouldn't look too bad covered in fig leaves. I'm sure you'll find a way to make it work."

"Just because you want to see me nude, doesn't mean I'll concede myself to you so easily."

"Alright then, no more blood until I see you dressed with just one leaf." She wanted to sound serious, but the look on his face was worrying. Did he actually understand sarcasm?

"Hey, I'm still joking. No need to look at me like that."

"That reassures me. The thought of bedding a drow wasn't a pleasant one."

"Hey what?!" For once she was actually offended.

"Canings, ties, gags, whatever spiked torture device you have in your caves to get you off. Are you sure you are having sex down there, or just trying to eviscerate each other?"

"Well first and foremost, the "device" is called a spike cross and you aren't actually supposed to get off on that. Second, not my fault you surface elves are more sensitive than a babe. And third," she moved her lips close to his ear, whispering seductively. "I'll be gentle your first time, you'll still be able to sit the next day." She smirked, but couldn't hold in a chuckle.

"Is it true your men are slaves?" He asked all of a sudden.

"It depends. Most commoners, like me, have left the practice behind. Not that I wouldn't enjoy having a slave or two, but you know, either they consent or I buy one. Now, the matriarchs, they still cling to the old ways. In any case, most say it's not as bad as it was a few centuries ago. This doesn’t change the fact all men are unworthy and unclean in the Spider’s Queen eyes and her followers… like me, but I won’t chain you up unless you request me." She shrugged. Astarion was lost. His face was turned towards her, but his eyes were looking somewhere far. In that moment, Leeith remembered all that he had to go through, between the torture and the servitude.

"Hey," she placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. "That won't happen anymore, alright. You're free now. Nothing can take that away and if they try, you aren't alone. I'll personally go into Cazador's lair and open all of his curtains, while you stand above his ashes. The sun will burn him, while you will be free." He shook his head.

"A naïve and puerile fantasy… but thank you. Shall we go? You said you were tired and don't think blood loss made you any stronger." He offered his hand and she took it. Even with that, standing up was not an easy task when her world kept spinning and going dark at the edges, but she managed.

"Lolth be graced, no one tells you the downsides of being a blood bag when you pick up this job." She joked, as they both walked back to camp.

#baldurs gate astarion #sketch #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion #astarion romance #astarion x tav #baldur's gate oc

23 notes · View notes

willshipanything-blog · 11 months

Text

Breaking the Rules- Chapter 11

We're here!! This chapter does have reasons for being here, but if you wanna stick around just to enjoy the smut, be my guest ✨✨

Al tries to take Y/N's mind off the thoughts that have been bothering her lately.... in his own way, of course.

Usual warnings, Minors DNI, full tags on AO3, along with the fic there if you prefer.

For full Chapter Index on Tumblr, click here!

Enjoy lovelies! ✨💜✌️(and to @randodummy for asking to be tagged 😙)

Chapter 11- A Little Distraction

You had been determined to make the week a good one. But something had muddied the water, sullying your thoughts with their pollutant presence in your mind. For the first time in a long time, you felt unsure. Lost. Like wading into a deep, black sea. The weight of your suspicions a lethal, invisible burden in your mind. Each fresh doubt another heavy stone in your pocket threatening to drag you under the crushing current.

It wasn’t the house necessarily- or not solely the house, though you were currently looking pensively out the window towards that empty address. The overgrown lawn bathed in silvery blades of moonlight that pierced through the overcast night. Dark, barren windows staring back at you like empty sockets. The dead tree a solitary sentry in the garden, its gnarled, ashen branches curled like fingers, tangled as the knots in your stomach.

More than the house itself, it was Al’s reaction to you asking about it which jarred your perspective on the matter, when it should have served to assuage your doubts. The oven-ready answer that had come so naturally from that silver tongue, prefaced by the slightest pause and microscopic flicker of an eye that lasted just a heartbeat. But enough for you to sense it. Al’s retort had felt altogether too rehearsed, which only deepened your worry. You didn’t even like to think about it, but denying what it reminded you of was near-impossible. Because that theatrical, performative schtick reminded you of him, that devilish aura, the shadowy phantom that you were sure no longer stalked Al’s footsteps.

Al had no need for lies anymore. There were no more secrets, not after you’d finally learned about his past, about the origins of Naughty Boy, and how Al had become the monster you were positive no longer possessed his body or mind. Still, you just couldn’t shake the feeling that the house wasn’t as empty as Al insisted. The thought lay heavy in your stomach, on your chest, in your mind. Doubts about the house, but more so about Al, which burned a hole right through your heart to even consider.

Was he still playing those games, even now? This week, he’d been especially attentive, beginning to ring you during his lunch break when he knew Max wasn’t around to keep you company. From another angle, could that devotedness look like obsession, keeping tabs on you, keeping you sweet so you’d be less likely to think those forbidden thoughts?

Were you reading him wrong, after all this time? No: Al’s expression had faltered at your question. You knew his features, each nuanced expression they made. You could interpret the shine of his eye, decipher the curl of his smile, read each crinkle in his skin. He was no longer hiding behind a mask, but you were certain- almost certain- that his cool nonchalance was a veiled disguise. It was a subtle performance- but a performance nonetheless.

You wanted to just come out and ask Al if his story really was the truth, like the temptation of pulling a loose hangnail taut. Even though the consequence of falsely accusing him might have you pulling loose that itch, leaving only torn, aching skin behind. If your mistrust was misplaced, you’d be breaking your promise to be a good girl- and you followed the rules to the letter these days. But then, what if it was false, a ruse to keep you away from the truth? You’d been so worried about the presence of a lie, you’d hardly taken a minute to consider what the lie could be. If he was hiding something further, worse than the horrors you already knew of and accepted- how truly hideous could it be? You thought you knew the darkest depths of his soul- but what if that doomed soul was burned even blacker than you thought possible?

A few evenings after you’d questioned Al about the house, you were sharing a quiet night alone together, a rare Max-free evening after he’d gone out with some guys from work. Not surprising, really, how easily Max had befriended his co-workers, though you secretly- even jealousy- hoped they’d never come close to sharing the same bond you and Max did.

Al had risen from the couch to answer the phone, and you’d found yourself turning, almost on reflex. Your gaze inexplicably drawn towards the vacant lot, visible only by the flickering orange streetlights that lined the street. Looking out the window to spy the house that had bombarded your thoughts the past few nights. Deadly silent, but the current of thoughts so loud in your mind, wave after wave of concerns, crescendoing like an ocean swell the longer you looked at the empty house.

Al’s answer had seemed reasonable enough. After all, who needs two houses? But then, why would it still be empty? The neighborhood was a little shabby, sure- but it was decent enough. Someone would have moved in. But this was all before your time, more than two decades ago- you didn’t know how these things really worked, you supposed.

So lost were you in those deafening, pervading thoughts, you’d not immediately discerned that Al had been talking to you.

“...how’s that sound? Dove?” Louder this time. “Dove?”

“Hm?” you turned from the window to see Al, his head tilted and his expression meeting somewhere between amusement and concern. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I sa-id,” Al elongated the word, clearly needing to repeat what you’d missed in your preoccupation on the other side of the glass, “that was Max on the phone.”

“Is he ok?”

“Oh sure, better than ok by the sound of it. He told us not to wait up, if you catch my drift.”

“Lucky Max.” you huffed a soft laugh that didn’t match the tone of your response, nor the still-preoccupied expression on your face.

In two strides, Al traversed the living room and was standing in front of the couch where your body was still half-turned away from the room. A hand reached out, brushing away stray wisps of hair and gliding along the outer ridge of your ear with a sweeping stroke of a finger. You looked up slowly, a sense of trepidation snaking its way through you, only worsened when your eyes never met Al’s. His were elsewhere, those blues focused on where your gaze rested a moment ago. He was looking at the house too, a stony expression and steady breath giving away nothing of his emotion, but telling you more than enough too.

Steely blue eyes flitted down, but a small, knowing smile crept into the corner of his lips.

“Everything ok, sweet? You seem . . . elsewhere.”

He’d worked it out, what you were so preoccupied with. And he knew that you knew he’d solved it. But what good would lying do you, pretending you had no mistrust on your mind? Pretending that the constant flurry of worry over the (allegedly) empty house hadn’t eaten away at your insides like a parasitic leech. Hiding your emotions was an exercise in futility; Al could see through your worries and dishonesty as easily as you could see the house through the living room window. The mental burdens you had thought invisible were as solid to Al as your skin beneath his soft touch.

An alternative to feigning normalcy- confrontation. Would you throw an accusation his way, when the suspicion might all just be a fiction of your own creation? You’d hurt Al enough with your words in recent memory, so you vowed silence for now. Leaving the ball in his court- for him to make the next move in this game. He caught the meaning in your hard stare and pressed lips.

“How about this,” he drawled, squatting in front of the couch as those devastating cerulean eyes met yours. Eye to eye, though it hardly felt like equal footing; Al was drawing up a proposition of some kind. Not that you minded Al taking the lead- it was how your dynamic worked, after all. Just like how you’d allowed the Grabber to take charge, the illusion that you were blameless in your own downfall which allowed you to slip into the acceptance of your situation with less guilt. Even now, it was more of the same. How could you be blamed for the depravity, when it was Al distracting you from the questions you should be asking. Al keeping your thoughts on a tight leash, guiding them only where he wanted them to wander.

He set forth his proposal:

“Let me take your mind off what’s troubling you, little bird.” His palm lowered, ghosting over the side of your neck, soft fingertips tracing circles on your skin. Each finger pad ran its tiny circuit, all meeting your thrumming pulse in turn, each one provoking the pulsations, quickening them with their electric touch. Al hadn’t posed a question, though he raised his brows in query. Would you accept the terms?

The ploy was obvious, really. A cheap distraction which you should have challenged. But you could ask anytime, and the flames in your stomach had already started to kindle at his searing touch, his smoldering words, burning away those worries for the time being. If his soul was burned black, yours was charred right alongside his. Your eyes met Al’s, twin pairs flooded with the same shiny blackness. Overtaken by the hunger, the lust- and yes, the escapism- you gave a firm nod. You happily made deals with your devil these days. You’d sign it in blood, if he asked it of you.

After a brief moment alone (obediently staying put on Al’s command), he returned from the bedroom. His presence had your heart racing, thumping furiously like a bullet ricocheting off every bone in your ribcage. In one clenched fist, below the throbbing veins of his forearm, Al held a dark piece of fabric. Above his tan corduroys, the bare expanse of his stomach and chest rippled where he’d removed his shirt. And below the ravenous eyes, the porcelain half-mask gave its wide, unfaltering smile, manic as ever.

“Kneel on the couch, facing the window.”

Breathless, your swimming thoughts took a beat too long to register, though an advancing stride by Al (paired with a tilt of that maniacal grin), had you scrambling to obey his order. The demand was pithy: brief and assertive, but hardly needing to hide the intent behind it. He’d directed you to face the window, wanted you looking out towards the root of your recent disquiet, so he himself could be the one to quell those worries.

Al slipped the blindfold over your eyes. The house, the tree, the Denver street, the window which framed those suspicions, gave way to silky blackness. Your heart picked up, and you practically heard your blood thumping in your ears, as if the loss of one sense had increased another tenfold. But you weren’t so senseless (not yet, at least) to have let go of every apprehension.

“Al! Someone might see-”

“Shhh dove, no one’s there,” he purred. The gravelly burr of his voice was dampened by the mask, but its effect on your body was no less potent, goose pimples already sprouting up on your arms, your thighs. He knelt behind you, the sudden warm pressure of his bare chest up against you causing you to brace your arms against the back of the couch. The mask’s hard ridge dug into your shoulder, sending more goosebumps skittering down your neck and fluttering across your chest. The final vestiges of your trepidation melted like hot wax as you discerned him close the curtains fully.

“It’s just you,” You felt his left arm reach out to whoosh the fabric shut, “And me.” His other arm mirrored the first, the second whoosh concealing you from the outside world. Or was that the other way around? You, blind to anything apart from the two of you at this moment. The entire rest of the world blind to your existence.

“I can practically hear the cogs in that head of yours ticking, sweet thing.” He began pawing at you from behind, a row of knuckles softly stroking your jaw as his other hand rubbed at a shoulder. It was tender, assuaging, yet held an evocation of something more sinful, a promise of something more to come. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it refused to budge, desperate anticipation freezing it in its tracks.

“Well, I was thinking about you. And me. Us.” you said, barely above a breathy whisper.

“That’s good. Because that’s the only thing that matters, right dove?”

Another nod from you. The right answer, evidently, the way Al responded to it with more licentious touches- reaching beneath your shirt to knead your breast as his other hand deftly popped each button in quick succession. The same with the clasp of your bra, magicked open in a blink before the clothes were slipped from your body. Hands were quick to replace the lace of the bra, fingers teasing around your nipples as Al palmed your breasts.

A needy whimper and an impatient little thrust of your ass into Al earned you a hard pinch to each nipple, a threatening growl tumbling from his throat at your deliberate insolence. As if the suggestion that you were in charge angered him, when his rough touch was what you craved. Al’s dominance, his possessiveness was genuine, but the feigned anger was just another part of the lewd little charade these days, thrilling you without fear. Only ending in punishment you’d ask for.

Hands meandered down your stomach, traversing your bare skin languidly. Al was in no rush, clearly enjoying the show- you discerned the mask digging further into your shoulder as he loomed over you, his body trembling at your back like a windswept cape. You felt a tug on your waistband, heard the ziiiipp of your shorts being undone. All slowly- too slowly, your blindness to your devil’s dawdling movements unbearable, but knowing more whining would only further delay what you needed.

The stygian abyss that enveloped your vision gave strength to your other senses. Each touch so far was more torrid in its unpredictability, and your ears were more acutely aware of changes in Al’s breathy exhales. When it faltered slightly, shallowing almost imperceptibly into shorter, muffled bursts beneath the alabastor mask, you needed no vision to know what was coming. Fingers entered you, meeting no resistance at the slickness already pooled there thanks to Al’s cruelly slow ministrations. As two thick fingers pumped, Al thumbed your clit with wild abandon and your whole body began to thrum beneath his touch, your orgasm building quickly after being denied for so long. Heavy breaths morphed into desperate mewls, becoming cries as Al’s relentless hands wrung out your pleasure drop by drop. Fingers curled inside you, and your release was imminent. That gravelly voice, rough and potent as a jagged blade’s edge, only had to wheeze your name, tell you to let go, and as always, you surrendered to his command.

Everything clenched at once right before the climax. Your core pulsing around Al’s digits, your toes curling at the sensation, fists clenching desperately into the couch cushions, nails threatening to shred the fabric like a wild beast. You came, and, with your release and guttural scream that Al summoned from your throat, your whole world went black.

Regaining your faculties slowly, you breathed in and out only three short, shuddering breaths before Al continued. The clank of his belt undoing was like Pavlov’s bell, and your ass jerked involuntarily, moving your heat closer towards the hard manhood you’d already felt poking into your back as he made you come. Instead, your arms were pulled behind you, your body startling at the unexpected move. Al wrapped the belt around your arms, tying them above the elbow. A confused, foggy whine fell from your lips at the sensation. The taut leather chafed uncomfortably against your arms, pushing out your breasts. An obscene display even your sightless state could envision. Al simply snorted, pulling you back by the leather strap binding your arms. The hard plastic of the mask connected with your flushed cheek as he spoke.

“Oh, we’ve just started, dove. By the time I’m done with you, there won’t be a single thought in that pretty head of yours.” Danger punctuated his words, reverberating in your ear like darkening clouds holding a promise of an approaching storm. The imminent rolling thunder matched the sensation renewing low in your gut, your need building already at Al’s words alone, though still desperate for his touch. You stayed quiet as Al lowered you to a recline, only a slight whimper betraying your good behavior when you leaned awkwardly on your tightly bound arms.

He whipped off your shorts and underwear in a single tug before crawling atop you. You could feel his thighs straddling your hips, his arms holding his aloft above so his face was inches from your own. Your top teeth met your bottom lip, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation of the unknown worrying your mind. A hand stroking your cheek tenderly had you gasping, jerking slightly at the unseen action, though Al’s soft shushes assuaged your unease. His magic hands and bewitching charm vanishing all the badness, banishing it all away into some distant basement in your mind.

“Whatcha thinking of, Y/N?”

“You, Al.” “That’s my good girl.”

Soft lips ghosted yours; he’d taken off the mask, discarding any persona- it really was just you and Al.

“You are mine, aren’t you dove?”

“I’m yours. Always.” Your soft sigh was cut short as Al captured your mouth. And with your admittance that you belonged to him wholly, he began again.

Each new pleasure Al lured from you hit like a fresh clap of lightning, bursting behind your eyes like dazzling silver slashes across your vision. And like the fiercest storm, it was unrelenting in its power, Al overwhelming you completely. Your other senses were overloaded entirely, heightened in your blind state. The intoxicating perfume of cigarettes and cedar, sweat and sex. The touch of his big hands on your breasts, nails digging into a thigh or a hip, breath warming your clit before his skillful tongue had its turn at wringing out another orgasm. Hot tears that bled down your cheeks from beneath the blindfold, and Al’s rough tongue that lapped at them- kissing away your tears and grievances and exchanging them for enchanting satisfaction. A symphony of your needy moans and shrieks of euphoria that harmonized with Al’s words of encouragement- good girl, one more, perfect little thing.

The most blissful form of torture, the amalgamation of it all dizzying and confusing and so fucking good. Your mind couldn’t process any larger word right now, and you were only acutely aware of the monosyllabic gibbering you were moaning, crying, screaming: Al. Fuck. So good. Al. Too much. God. Al.

Your mind eclipsed, almost as dark as your vision. All your thoughts- your worries, questions, doubts, fell away into the inky cosmos of your mind. Like they were weightless, meaningless suddenly. The matching blackness of the blindfold immersed you in the liminal space where almost nothing existed; not time, or space. Certainly not the house that had elbowed its way inside your thoughts, demolished in one euphoric instant. You felt only your own nerve endings, shattered like a million blown fuses in your body, felt only Al’s presence with you. Saw only stars forged by Al streaking across the obsidian sky of your vision.

After countless peaks, Al’s cock finally took its turn, though his hands were still unceasing on your clit, his teeth stippling bruises along your collarbone. A hoarse cry (sore from the constant euphoric screams Al had summoned) accompanied your final orgasm, and you melted back into the couch, limp and sweaty and flushed pink from head to toe. You barely even registered that your still-tied arms had numbed completely.

Still inside you, Al whipped the blindfold from your eyes, even the dimmed living room taking a second to come into focus. The broad figure above you materialized before your bleary eyes. There he was, in every way- in you, on you- but with you completely, like always. Al grabbed both your hips in a bruising grip, hoisting up your hips and quickening his pace, nearing his own release now. Even after the indecent number of times you'd come, his cock pumping inside you sent a simmering warmth through you- not a searing heat, but enough to have you moaning in weakened toned, looking up at him through heavy, fluttering lashes.

"Al. Al." Al’s promise had come to fruition: there wasn’t a coherent thought in your head. Only him- the only thing that made sense to you. “Oh, fuck- Al!”

"That's right, little love," An assertive thrust. "Just me and you, huh?" He pulled out almost to the tip before slamming himself into you again, right to the hilt. "Nothing else matters. Nothing else even fucking exists." He hit that sweet spot once more and you wondered, behind your rasping groan, if a person could pass out from too much of a good thing. Al pumped into you a couple more times as you floated down from whatever plane he'd rocketed you to, and he came with a rough grunt, although his own climax felt something of a mere afterthought, not the objective of this particular game.

Your body was ratcheting down after the extreme highs Al had pushed it to, and he shifted quickly to the epitome of gentleness now; tenderly cleaning you with a damp cloth, hoisting you upright so he could unbind your arms. Cooing gentle apologies as the pain in your upper limbs settled into your bones, soothing your soft hiccuping weeps with praise and caresses, kisses peppering every inch of skin within his reach. He brought you into his lap and held you there a while- the pair of you sitting silently in the tranquil calm after the electric storm that had ripped though your body and barraged through your mind like an unstoppable gale.

Minutes passed (or hours- you couldn’t tell), before Al carried you the short walk to the bedroom, your arms just about responsive enough to grip around his neck. He placed you under the covers, still naked- you weren’t sure your slack limbs would cooperate with clothing anyway- before leaving to get you some water. You could have fallen into a rosy sleep in seconds, though forced yourself to remain conscious, a little clarity returning to your doughy mind, those overblown synapses beginning to reform into cognizance.

The point of the game was clear, but you contemplated each facet of it. The very act of overwhelming each of your senses, obliterating your mind from any thought except him and you in that moment, only served to confirm your suspicions- that he had lied. That there was something about that house he was desperate to conceal. But if it was worse than what you already knew- did you even want to find out?

Al could be your escape, a shining lighthouse guiding you into his embrace. But did his secrets threaten that safety, the rocks on which you might dash yourself trying to reach the light at his center? Tonight, you had swam towards Al, allowing his touch to lure you to him like a siren song. Would it be worth challenging that idyll, if only jagged, deadly rocks and unfathomably deep depths lay beyond that shroud of secrecy?

Al returned, and you propped yourself on a shaky elbow whilst you gulped down the entire glass of ice water he’d brought you. Hiding something or not, that rakish smile looking down at you only added to the warm flush that emanated from your sated body. A stroke of his thumb along your faded cheekbone scar and a final kiss on the top of your head was Al’s final spell that night, seeing you off into a deep, satisfied sleep. The distraction had worked; questions, doubts, worries- those were another day’s problems.

His dove was senseless after tonight, stunned and thoroughly spent after Al had finished with her. His devious persona plying her body with wave after wave of pleasure, like the moon controlling the endlessly lapping tides. Al had wanted- needed- to overwhelm her with his essence. His touch on her body, his scent invading her every pore, his voice drumming in her ears. Just him. Reminding her that he could be her everything- because she had given up everything to be with him, after all. That nothing else mattered as long as it was the two of them.

It wasn’t his finest hour, admittedly, the little game he’d concocted. The inevitable guilt had begun to creep through his chest like knotted ropes almost as soon as he’d ceased his attentions and she was snoozing soundly beside him. Al knew it had been a cheap distraction, but if Y/N hadn’t realized it in the throes of her undoing, she’d regain enough clarity to work it out herself by breakfast time. He could try to keep up this little game, but inevitably she’d begin those same questions, and eventually Al’s diversions would only serve to prove that he was desperate in his bid to hide something from her. Again.

It might be that she’d continue to ask about his and Max’s childhood- though she knew the bones of that story by now. But Al sensed it was more than likely she’d keep pressing about that damn house- a secret he couldn’t hide forever when it stared them in the face like some incessant phantom knocking at the window, begging to be let in. Al could picture it now- the questions she’d ask, whether feigning innocence or outright accusing him of lying, the lies he’d weave to try and placate her. But mostly, he could see the disbelieving, uncertain look in her pretty eyes at yet another lie she would be fed. It would only lead to further pain- for both of them.

Al pushed those feasible outcomes away, looking towards his dove in bed, shifting towards her to grip her closely. Hand around her waist, face buried in her hair and legs entwining, as if trying to fuse his bones to hers. The closer they were bound, the easier it was to ignore the potential for any more rifts between them. Trying to think of the pleasures was easier when she was close like this, and those aching worries soon dissipated as images of their evening tryst helped soothe him to sleep.

His precious dove had luxuriated in his ceaseless indulgences, and he had reveled in watching her come undone by his hand. It was wrong- but then, wasn’t everything about this? She had accepted that certainty, so another sin on the tally was just another drop in the ocean of transgressions that he (they?) had committed. Perhaps a small distraction wasn’t the worst thing he could provide- when the secrets he was hiding were worse crimes than simple misdirection from the truth. A little smoke and mirrors could be good for the soul. Certainly it had been for her body. Hopefully for her mind too…

#the grabber #the grabber x reader #the grabber x you #albert shaw x reader #albert shaw #albert shaw x you #the black phone #black phone fanfic

38 notes · View notes

jj-lives · 1 year

Note

I've mostly seen a bunch of analysis from everyone about Blake's part of the confession, but I think I'm more enamored with yang' part because we rarely see her so open about her own raw ROMANTIC feelings about blake to Blake's face, every other time its mostly been her trying to give words of encouragement, reassuring her things will be okay between them. But she was always so scared to scare blake away if she were ever honest about how she actually about her, partly bc abandonedment issues partly she didnt want to remind blake of adam. And the way Blake looks softly at her as yang gives these compliments and confession just speaks to the volumes screentime we've seen where Blake just feels utterly safe with Yang, "kinda scary but isn't" and you can see that here. Yang, the big bad beast who will tear you a part if you touch the people she loves (get fucked adam), but every single time she's with blake she's always so gentle with her, with her words with her hands, the way she still silently asks blake for permission to kiss her when looking at her lips and then back at her eyes, or how she continously gently pulls her in closer by the waist. You can tell Yang has been wanting to do that for ages, to hold and kiss Blake in the safety of her arms for 2 years now.

Oh for sure. I have seen some analysis on Yang's side of it. I'm pretty sure I mentioned a small blurb on it after the episode aired. I think a lot of people gravitated to what Blake said because of Yang's reaction to it. the surprise that was so evident on Yang's face at her words, and the fact that Blake was the quiet one that didn't really talk about anything. She doesn't give up her secrets so easily, so when she could have taken a cop out and said "I think your hair/eyes is/are beautiful," to slightly mirror Yang's "I think your cat ears are cute," comment and she doesn't, it was a big deal. She took the initiative, she was the one running headfirst into this where that's usually Yang's MO. (I'm not saying Yang's comment is a cop out, it had more weight to it than a simple physical compliment, and could write a whole thing on this as well, just that Blake making a comment on Yang's physical beauty wouldn't have had the same impact)

As for Yang's part of it... yes, I agree with you there anon. There is so much to unpack in this one episode, I could write 5 full on essays about it. The points Yang mentioned are so, so important.

The first thing she says is she likes how Blake has never been intimidated by her. When Blake had every right to be. When Yang did in some ways remind her of Adam. And I think Yang only came to appreciate Blake's trust in her after meeting Adam and standing with Blake against him. She realized how intimidating Adam was, how strong Blake had to be to run from him, stand up to him, and trust anyone after what he put her through, especially humans who she innately mistrusted, especially a human who's charisma and power/semblance reminded her of Adam. But Blake isn't intimidated by Yang, even in the ways others tend to be.

Then the "you never give up on them, even when they hurt you. You never give up. You know what matters to you." This is a whole pile of emotions to unpack.

Where the first confession was a comment on Blake's ability to trust Yang, this has more depth emotionally for Yang. "You never give up on them." It's both a reassurance that even though others have left and given up on Yang, Blake hasn't. She might have left after Beacon... but she came back and even though things were awkward and rocky between them, she stayed. She worked on it. She didn't give up. Because Blake knows what things matter to her enough to not give up on, and Yang is one of those things. And it means the world to Yang to understand that.

But it's also a reflection of who Yang is as well. It's a similarity they both share. Being there for those that matter to you. Not giving up just because things are difficult. Those are some of Yang's own core beliefs. They may have developed them in differing world views, but at their core, they are the same. And for someone like Yang, who gives her all, gives up everything for everyone else, finding someone that would do the same for the ones they both love, and for her...

Blake is someone she can share that burden with now, and Yang's never felt she could trust anyone else with that before.

So yeah, definitely there is so much to unpack in their confessions and I literally could write so much more on this because these characters are so complex at this point that I don't think any of us could fully do them justice at this point. I could expand on what you said about Yang being so gentle with Blake or how she always gives Blake a voice where Adam never allowed that from her... but I think you said it well. :)

#bumbleby #rwby analysis #rwby #rwby9 #I could write a 20 more analysis on this scene alone.#i love my bee babies so much #anon asks #anons that tells it like it is

45 notes · View notes

whateven333 · 4 months

Note

How would you have made bonkai canon?

Sorry it took me a while to see this, (even though I was super excited when I saw this -first ask I've gotten 💖 !!!) I was just super busy with Uni stuff, -then when I did see it, I ended up procrastinating for a good few days thinking about how to answer lmaooo, because I've seen how other people have come up with great ideas for this question already and then I felt too much pressure 😭.

Erm, but here I go anyway...🤸🏾‍♀️🥴😺😶‍🌫️

So, I would have them fuck in the prison world.

I know what you might be thinking -I took this long to come up with THIS.

And yes. Yes I did.

...

Okay but maybe also,

I would have definitely loved to see them spend longer in the prison world together.

Kai was shown to be a smart character...MOST of the time, and I think this may have just been another example of inconsistent/ sloppy writing on the show, -but, it never made sense to me how he gave up the ghost so quickly in terms of how he didn't seem to put much effort into stopping Damon and Bonnie from finding out about his sibling murdering stuff. Like, I would have thought, since he had been watching Bonnie and Damon, he had an understanding of how they might react if/ when they found out that information, so you would think maybe he'd try to put off them finding out for as long as possible ? I mean, how hard is it to trash a few newspapers ? But idk, maybe he was thinking -"why put off the inevitable" ??

BUT, had he managed to do so. It would have been an interesting way to make Bonnie less hostile to his advances, I think she definitely would have still been deeply mistrustful of him, considering he would still be..-well, the way he is, (he has that sly, mischievous, aura) and cocky attitude, -and we know Bonnie does not typically fall for that sort of schtick.

However, not knowing he murdered a handful of his siblings probably would have left her way more open to getting to know him- even if it was just out of curiosity, and if they had taken maybe a bit longer to find out how to get out of the prison world/ or maybe Bonnie’s powers hadn’t come back fully and she needed some more time to get back to full strength in order to be able to do the spell to get them out, then Bonnie would maybe have had more moments of prison world boredom (and probably enough irritating digs from Damon) to drive her to interact with Kai more. This could have been a gateway to get them to bond a little, show more moments of tension between the two of them, he would maybe insert himself in her sessions of trying to train her magic back to full strength under the guise of wanting to be helpful but just really in order to facilitate more possible touchy moments like the chest thing lmao, he could’ve shared some gemini spells with her, etc.

And so all of this could have led to what I jokingly (fine, half), said at the start -we could have all this lead up to a super charged moment that leads to them having sex in the prison world. Maybe Bonnie won’t find out about Kai’s past until they all make it back out to the real world, which would lead to a lot of inner turmoil for her (she was the only one of her friends who could say they hadn’t fallen into bed with a mass murderer, but not anymore). When Kai merges with Luke, due to him having had more time to bond with Bonnie, I’d imagine that his hyper-fixation and guilt about Bonnie would be way more intense.

And then…there should be more to this explanation, there’s probably weird gaps in here and maybe not all of what I’ve said even makes sense because I have to admit I’m writing this whilst super tired and it’s 2am and my brain is like starting to buffer and I think this is all I have for now.

But, I really hope this answer wasn’t complete trash anon 😭, (I have no experience with writing any fics of my own, though I am interested and have started dabbling, let's just say its been a little rough lmao -though I am having fun and will keep trying at it, so we'll see what happens, I guess.😭)

Thanks so much for the ask though 💖💖

#bonkai #bonnie bennett #kai parker #ask

18 notes · View notes

kingofsummer93 · 1 year

Text

Ex Luna Scientia

Summary:

Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the Minister for Magic, is as loved by his peers as he is hated by his family. But behind the charm and irreverence hides a secret, as dark and menacing as the scar on his face.

Elain Archeron, middle sister in a trio of muggle-born witches, has only one wish: for someone to truly see her. Because when she sleeps at night, she can see it all.

Or- an Elucien at Hogwarts AU.

Chapter 18: The Hall of Prophecy

Ao3 Masterlist

The weeks following the werewolf attacks were some of the worst Lucien had ever experienced at Hogwarts. It was all people could talk about- the breakouts, the attacks, the ministry’s promise to crack down on dangerous individuals.

“We will not rest until our streets are safe once more,” his father had declared on the front page of the Daily Prophet.

It made Lucien sick. The fact that ministry members were allegedly resigning as an act of solidarity and defiance did not raise his spirits, and neither did Professor Spell-Cleaver’s impassioned speeches.

It didn't matter, none of it. The harm had already been done. His father understood the power of mistrust and prejudice, and he was wielding them masterfully. Besides, Aurors abandoning their posts wouldn't achieve anything. The only thing that would ever begin to put an end to it would be for someone to put a stop to his father.

Not just to his career and political machinations, but to him. Lucien had never particularly felt any affection for his father, but the rage he now felt whenever he so much as thought of the man who had sired him surprised even himself. Sometimes he pictured himself lunging at the man and digging his teeth into his flesh until his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood and his screaming filled his ears. Not during the full moon, but in broad daylight, like those convicts had done - like they had been forced to do, Lucien was sure of it. The thought of doing such a thing (of accidentally hurting someone because of what he was) made him sick- but if anyone deserved it was Beron. What would happen, if he somehow managed to bite him? The humans had been so badly beaten in the attack that they hadn’t survived their injuries.

But Lucien would make sure that Beron survived. Just one bite- just enough to draw blood, just long enough to make sure he was never the same. It would be a sick, twisted form of poetic justice.

These twisted thoughts being at the front of his mind was why, when the next full moon rolled around, he made his friends swear to not come to the Shrieking Shack. His thoughts were too dark, his mental state too unstable to risk their safety.

Convincing them had not been easy, but in the end they had relented. He had regretted it the second he had laid down on that musty four-poster on the second floor of the Shrieking Shack and felt his muscles tense with the incoming agony of his transformation, but it was too late.

He spent hours raging- howling at the moon, biting and scratching himself. He was transported back to those miserable years before his friends had given him the greatest gift he could ever have asked for. The scent of his own blood only enraged him even more.

And then, a few hours before dawn, another scent caught his attention. Something animal and vaguely familiar, even in his current state.

A large, smoke-grey hound stared at him coolly. A snarl ripped from Lucien’s throat, even as something registered at the back of his mind. But the hound only snarled back, holding its ground. Lucien bounded at him and the hound turned and bolted down the underground tunnel that led back to the whomping willow.

He chased the hound for hours through the Forbidden Forest, but he could never catch up. The hound was too swift, quick and graceful, leaping through the dense forest like a shadow.

When the sky started lightening with the promise of dawn his prey finally slowed. But instead of pouncing on him, Lucien only pawed at him playfully. The dog swiped back at him before running again, letting Lucien chase him. And on the chase went, but differently- no more than two animals, play-fighting in the woods.

When Lucien finally opened his eyes, splayed on his back in the Shrieking Shack, the hound was hovering over him, panting heavily. Lucien’s entire body was screaming with exhaustion and pain, his self-inflicted wounds stinging smartly. But his mind was mercifully clear, groggy with sleep but free of the spiraling anger that had taken a hold of him since Skeeter’s article.

The hound’s glowing amber eyes glittered as Lucien sat up gingerly. There was a flash of light, a faint crack, and then his brother appeared next to him. Before Lucien could say anything Eris’ fist collided with his face and pain exploded from his nose.

“Ow!” He clutched his nose and felt blood dripping between his fingers. “Fuck. What was that for?”

Eris leveled a long look at him. “For being a prick to your friends.”

Ah. So that was how Eris had known to be here. “I deserved that,” he mumbled ruefully, wiping the blood from his face.

His brother lifted his hand again and scuffed him at the back of the head. “Ow! I get it, stop hitting me!”

“That’s for chasing me all night,” his brother said simply.

“Yeah, fair enough…” Lucien agreed sheepishly.

He winced as his brother helped him to his feet but didn’t protest as Eris helped him clean his wounds.

“You really did a number on yourself, little brother.”

Lucien’s gut clenched with guilt. “I’m sorry.”

“There it is,” Eris said with a tight smile. “The magic words. I wasn’t sure you knew what they were.”

Lucien loosed a laugh and winced at the pain in his ribs. He’d need to stop by Madam Majda’s for an extra strong dose of pain tonic. “Ass.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eris drawled, throwing him a set of robes. “Get dressed, we don’t have much time. I need to talk to you about something.”

The words sent his gut spinning, sending him dangerously close to vomiting as he remembered why he had been in such a rage in the first place.

“What’s he doing, Eris?” Lucien asked, gingerly slipping the robes over his head. “Those werewolves-“

“Helion thinks he’s building an army,” Eris said flatly. “He thinks Koschei’s somehow been coerced into commanding them with the Imperious charm. He was famous for it, you know, during the war with Grindelwald.”

“Helion? What…how…” Lucien’s groggy brain was struggling to keep up.

“Helion’s had members of the ministry secretly loyal to him for decades. I always suspected he must, and, well.” He grinned wickedly. “Not sure what I did, but it would appear I’ve finally made the cut.

Lucien had to laugh at that. “What a terrible mistake.”

Another scuff to the back of his head. Lucien groaned in pain and closed his eyes against a dizzy spell. “Ow! Fuck, Eris, stop hitting me.”

Immediately his brother’s arm was around his waist, holding him upright. “Sorry, shit, let me help you back up to the school-“

Lucien pushed him off with a half-hearted eye roll. “Quit your fussing. Helion- he thinks those people are being trained to fight? But for what?”

“I don’t know,” Eris said darkly. “But I’m going to find out. And I think we can perhaps kill two birds with one stone.”

Eris’ amber eyes were shining in a way that meant he was in the mood to get into some trouble.

“I’m listening,” Lucien said, sitting up straighter.

“Does Elain still want to get inside the Hall of Prophecy?”

Lucien immediately forgot about his aching body. “Yes!” He’d almost given up hope that Eris would find a way in. “But isn’t it chaos at the Ministry these days? How are we supposed to sneak in through that?”

Eris grinned wickedly. “We’re not. If my plan works we’re not going to need to sneak in at all.”

“That’s…Merlin, why do I have a bad feeling I’m not going to like this idea of yours?”

“You probably won’t,” Eris agreed with a wince. “Elain even less, actually. Here’s what I’m thinking…”

Lucien’s dread grew as his brother explained his plan. When he was done he simply gaped at him, his jaw hanging open in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

---

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” Lucien asked gently.

Elain kept looking over her shoulder as they crept down the silent, deserted hallways, her eyes wide. She looked so tightly wound that she jumped at every little sound- every creak of a suit of armor adjusting their stance, every murmuring of the occupants of paintings they passed.

They had just slipped behind the tapestry that led to the secret tunnel that would take them all the way to the basement of Honeyduke’s in Hogsmeade. From there, they were to sneak out and make their way to the edge of town, where Eris would be waiting for them. It was reckless to sneak out of the castle like this, but it was hardly the most dangerous part of the plan.

And besides, it wasn’t that reckless for him. But for Elain…

Her fingers tightened around his so hard he almost winced. “Yes,” she said, taking a deep, shaky inhale. “Eris said it has to be tonight. Besides, he’ll be waiting for us.”

“If we get caught…”

“We won’t,” she said, her lips twitching despite the nerves and trepidation he could feel radiating off her. “And if we do, I’ll be embarrassed for your reputation as a trouble maker.”

Lucien huffed a laugh. “You know what, that’s fair. Still, if we get caught…”

“No word about the ministry and Hall of Prophecy,” she intoned, suddenly serious again. “We simply snuck out to Hogsmeade for a nighttime stroll. And if we get caught in London…”

“We won’t,” Lucien declared, as much to convince herself as to convince her. “Eris’ plan is fool-proof.” Foolish, dangerous, definitely idiotic, but, Lucien had to admit, also quite ingenious.

“Then let’s go,” she said with a grin. She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before turning to the dark passageway. “Lumos.”

A silvery beam of light illuminated the damp stone, and they set off down the passageway. It became narrower and narrower the further they walked, until Elain had to let go of his hand to walk in front of him and Lucien had to crouch to avoid bumping his head on the ceiling.

Eventually the path turned into little more than a crawl space. Elain looked at him over her shoulder with a stern look.

“Sorry,” he whispered with a cringe. “We’re almost there, I promise. It’s the safest way out of the castle…”

Elain shook her head. “It’s not that.” He couldn't see her eyes in the gloom but he could hear the humor in her voice, and he could picture the exact way her eyes would be glittering. “Keep your hands to yourself, mister.”

With that she stuck her wand between her teeth and dropped to her hands and knees to crawl towards the end of the tunnel. Lucien chuckled as he followed suit, indeed appreciating the view. When they reached the end of the passageway Lucien shouldered open a trapdoor camouflaged in the ceiling, trying not to make a racket as he dislodged the heavy, dusty boxes that had been sitting on top of the trapdoor. He helped Elain climb out of the tunnel and felt her breathe a sigh of relief.

“I did not like that,” she declared, taking in great gulps of air. “I didn’t like that one bit.”

“Thankfully, actually getting to London won’t include any more tunnels,” Lucien reassured her.

“And is there a reason you haven’t told me how we’re actually getting there?”

Lucien grinned. “Oh, I think you’ll like this. Come on, there’s a door somewhere around here…”

They felt their way through the dark basement, the air thick and sweet from the boxes of candies and toffees piled all around them.

The back alley was deserted when they excited the shop, but they still kept to the shadows, dark cloaks lifted over their heads. If anyone spotted them they would simply look like two lovers out for a stroll.

The shops and little houses of Main Street were thinning out, and soon they were walking down the dusty road that led to the mountains in the distance. Lucien kept his gaze firmly away from the Shrieking Shack, sitting on a lonely patch of grass on the outskirts of town.

“Lucien,” Elain whispered. “Do you think this is a very stupid idea?”

“Well,” he mused. “Yes. But that doesn’t mean it’s not fun.”

Elain shook her head at him affectionately. “How did I know you were going to say that?”

The village fell away behind them, and they quickened their step as they spotted a familiar figure, leaning against a dark object. As they got closer Elain gasped.

“Told you,” Lucien said with a smirk. “I wasn’t sure how comfortable you’d be flying on a broom the whole way…”

“Baby brother,” Eris drawled as they approached. “Ms Archeron.” He tipped his head in a mock bow. “I believe you requested a ride?”

Lucien’s flying motorbike gleamed in the moonlight, two helmets and leather jackets resting on the seat. Eris’ broom was leaning against the side, and his brother wasted no time in grabbing it and zipping up his own jacket.

“Ready? We’ll go over the plan when we get to London. I want to get going now while we still have some cloud cover.”

Lucien glanced at Elain, who hesitated for only a moment before donning the helmet and jacket and climbing onto the bike. “Ready.”

Eris chuckled appreciatively. “You know, I wouldn’t have pegged you as the rule breaking type.”

“And I would have pegged you as a stuck-up daddy’s boy, but we all make mistakes,” she quipped back.

Lucien howled with laughter as Eris sputtered indignantly. With a tap of his wand the engine roared to life, and then they were rising, up, up, up into the night sky. Elain’s arms wrapped tightly around his middle as the country lane fell away until it was no more than a scratch cutting through the landscape. Hogwarts glittered in the distance, its hundreds of windows glittering like a beacon in the night.

Eris led the way, cutting a straight line south towards London. After a few minutes Lucien relaxed into the familiar rhythm of being high up in the sky, the wind howling in his ears and the scenery below blurring into a dark patchwork. Any lingering anxiety lifted off his shoulders, disappearing into the night around them.

They slipped higher still, until they were level with the wispy, dark clouds moving in from the West. The temperature went from cool to freezing, the air so damp Lucien could feel it in his bones.

“Remember the last time you took me for a ride on your bike?” Elain screamed over the howling wind.

Lucien laughed. “How could I forget?” He’d been an entirely different person then. Or- perhaps not different, but simply going about things the wrong way entirely. “I’m still surprised you said yes.”

He felt Elain shrug against his back. “I wasn’t blind, you know. Even if you were an ass.”

He flipped up the visor on his helmet and shot her a self-satisfacted grin over his shoulder, laughing again as she only shook her head at him.

On they flew, until his limbs started to feel numb with cold. They passed over muggle towns, the golden lights mockingly warm and inviting as they flew through the cold night. Just when Lucien was starting to dread the prospect of having to fly back, Eris pressed his nose to his broom and shifted into a dive.

London beckoned in the distance, tiny golden pinpricks eventually turning into houses, buildings, parcs. They kept to the cloud cover as long as possible, and then Eris flicked his wand on them to disguise them with a concealment charm. It wouldn’t last, but it was better than having muggle witnesses claiming to have seen a man on a broom and two teenagers on a flying motorcycle.

They landed in a dark alley that would have been nondescript were it not for the telephone booth at one end.

“Right,” Eris said, rubbing his hands together to bring some warmth back to his frozen fingers. “So. Like I said, Father travels to Azkaban every two weeks on routine inspections- or whatever the hell it is he’s doing there.” His amber eyes turned cold and scornful. “He’s there tonight, which means if he’s somehow alerted to a disturbance, we’ll have plenty of time to get out before he’s back in London. With that said, let’s try to avoid getting caught, yeah? It’s one thing to break in, but breaking out is another thing altogether.”

Lucien and Elain both nodded mutely. Lucien had conveyed the plan to Elain in a whispered conversation inside the Room of Requirements, at his brother’s suggestion. Eris hadn’t wanted any part of it written down anywhere, under any circumstances. He hadn’t even been honest with Tamlin, Jurian and Vassa about where he was going tonight. They’d be livid when they eventually find out, but more at having missed out on an adventure than at his dishonesty.

“The effects of the Polyjuice Potion will last exactly one hour. We go in, we do what we have to do, and we get the hell out before the effects wear off. If someone sees us, act like you belong there. And if we get separated or someone starts asking too many questions…” He trailed off, looking at them expectantly.

“We run for the fireplaces in the Atrium and take the Floo Network back to Hogsmeade,” Lucien said, repeating the instructions Eris had given him in the Shrieking Shack.

“Correct. Take the Floo Network back to the Three Broomstick, and if anyone sees you, just say you broke into the teacher’s lounge and took the Network from there. You’ll get detention but nobody will check the Network- not for two kids having a laugh.”

He reached into his cloak and took out a bottle of thick, murky liquid, and three smaller vials. “This won’t be pleasant, I’m afraid.” From the smirk on his face Lucien knew his brother didn’t feel bad for them at all. “Elain, you’ll be impersonating my friend from the Department of Mysteries. If we’re caught going in or out of the department, nobody should ask any questions. But if they do- remember that you have the right to be there, and whatever business you have down there doesn't concern anyone else.”

“Right…” Elain said, looking at the vile liquid in Eris’ hand uncertainly.

Eris uncorked the bottle and poured a third of it into one of the smaller vials before dropping in what looked like a single, long blonde hair. The potion bubbled slightly and started to froth, before settling into a murkish green shade.

“Here you go. Bottoms up!”

Elain grabbed the vial gingerly and sniffed the contents with a cringe.

“Cheers!” With that she tipped the liquid into her throat, gagging slightly at the taste.

For a moment nothing happened. And then Elain’s eyes went wide, and the empty vial shattered on the cobblestones as she clutched her stomach and doubled over, groaning in pain.

“Elain! Are you-”

Lucien reached for her in alarm but Eris held him back. “Just let it happen. It doesn’t feel pleasant but it only takes a minute.”

Lucien was strongly reminded of another transformation that only took a minute, but was even less pleasant. He watched with growing dread as Elain’s body shook with tremors, and then started to morph before his eyes. Her hair straightened and receded into her head until the tips brushed her shoulders, her body swelled in some places and shrank in others. It stopped as abruptly as it had begun, and then she looked up.

The effect was so bizarre that Lucien stumbled a step back. Looking back at him was a woman he’d never seen before, with a sleek blond bob and piercing sky-blue eyes. Eris nodded appreciatively and chuckled as Elain looked down at herself, touching her hair, her new, foreign body.

“It worked!” she exclaimed. “This is so bizarre.”

“You have no idea,” Lucien agreed.

“Right! No time to waste. One for me, and one for you.” Eris split the rest of the potion into the remaining two vials, dropping in a single hair to both. One seemed to boil for a moment before turning a vibrant, unnatural shade of red, while the other thickened into what looked like molasses.

“I still don’t understand why I have to be you,” Lucien grumbled as Eris handed him the vial with the red liquid. “Why can’t I be the Auror?”

“Because people have seen me and Lara together.” He inclined his head towards Elain-Lara-who was now holding her hands in front of her face in awe. “So if you two have to make a run for it, it won’t look that suspicious that you’re together. As for this guy…” he held up the vial with the thick black-brown liquid. “Let’s hope nobody is stupid enough to question an Auror’s motives.”

Lucien sighed. “Fine.”

Eris clinked his vials and lifted it in mock cheers, and then downed the liquid. Lucien followed suit, immediately choking on the smoky, spicy liquid. He felt it burn all the way down his throat, worse than straight Firewhiskey. The next moment he was doubled over in pain, resisting the urge to vomit as the burning sensation spread to his limbs. It felt foreign and yet horribly familiar, and for a wild second it was the full moon, and the wolf was taking over. His bones were melting, his blood sizzling, his skin stretching until it split.

After what felt like an eternity but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes the pain faded, like a tap being turned off. Lucien looked down at himself and breathed a sigh of relief, shaking his head at his irrational thoughts. He hadn’t turned into the wolf-of course not. He was still himself, and yet not. His skin was fair and freckled, and when he went to run his hands through his long all his fingers found was empty air. Strangest of all, though, was his metallic eye, clicking and whirring away on the cobblestones at his feet where it had fallen straight out of his head. His hand immediately lifted to his face, feeling smooth skin where his scar should have been, and a squishy, decidedly natural eye where he should have felt metal.

“Huh!”

“Hmm. I’m pretty good looking,” Eris said with a grin.

His brother had morphed into an intimidating looking man with a shaved head and scruffy beard. Tattoos were inked into his shaved head, running down into his neck and chest, which was the approximate shape and size of a barrel. Lucien had to admit that if the goal was to look like someone who people would stay away from, it had been a good choice. He pocketed his golden eye, still clicking away in his pocket, as if it had been offended to be discarded in such a manner.

“Let’s go,” his brother said, in a voice that was deep and menacing and definitely not Eris’. “Stand up straighter, I don’t slouch like that.”

“Yes, brother,” Lucien replied, adopting Eris’ lazy drawl.

“This is so bizarre…” Elain repeated, looking at him warily.

They followed Eris into the telephone box at the end of the alley and watched curiously as he punched in a number. “Visitor’s entrance,” he explained. “We would have to prove our identity if we went by the employee’s entrance.”

A cool female voice filled the box. “Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

“John Dawlish, Lara Goldstein, and Eris Vanserra, on a…research mission,” Eris sad in Dawlish’s unfamiliar, rumbling voice.

“Thank you,” the voice said. “Visitors, please take your badges and pin them to the front of your robes.”

Three metal badges fell from a metal chute attached to the telephone. Lucien picked up the top one and snickered. Eris Vanserra- Research Mission.

“Visitors to the ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.”

“Too bad we’re visiting after hours,” Eris muttered under his breath.

The floor of the telephone box started vibrating, and then the ground was rising up to meet them as they descended underground. Darkness enveloped them, and then a moment later a soft, golden light filtered into their telephone box. The lift smoothly hit the ground and the door slammed open.

“The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening,” the disembodied voice said.

The Atrium was deserted, the lights dimmed lower than Lucien had ever seen them during the day. The midnight-blue ceiling was painted with golden symbols that twisted and swirled, bathing the lobby in an ethereal, warm light. The only sound was the gurgling of the water from the fountain in the center- jets of water fell from the upraised wands of a witch and wizard, the point of a goblin’s hat, and the pointy tips of a house elf’s ears.

Eris silently indicated the row of lifts on the other side of the lobby, and Lucien cringed as their footsteps echoed against the marble floor. It had all seemed easy enough when Eris was describing the plan, but here, now- it was starting to seem like an incredibly stupid thing to do.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to split up?” Elain asked, looking around the deserted lobby uncertainly.

“We don’t have much time,” Eris said. “Besides, this way if I get caught I can just say the Minister asked me to fetch a report for him.”

“How will you even know where to look?” Lucien asked doubtfully. If Eris got caught snooping into their father’s office…it was madness.

“I’ll be quick, and then I’ll come join you. Look for the door with the gold marking. Don’t go into any other doors, under any circumstances. Do you hear me?”

Lucien and Elain both nodded mutely, neither of them particularly inclined to disagree. Eris pressed the down button set into the wall, and instantly a lift clattered into place. Lucien winced as the golden gate slid open, causing such a racket that he was surprised nobody had come running yet. The gate shut between them and Eris, and Lucien looked at Elain expectantly.

“Oh, right.” She cleared her throat. “Department of Mysteries,” she said, looking up at the ceiling. “Please.”

The lift shot down, so quickly that Lucien’s stomach lurched. And then sideways, and up, then down again, until he couldn’t be sure if they were above or below the Atrium. It reminded him of the maze of railways at Gringotts, designed to discourage potential thieves.

The lift hit the ground with a clang. “Department of Mysteries,” it announced, in the same cool female voice from the telephone box.

They were in a long, dark hallway, lit with torches flickering on the stone walls. It reminded Lucien strongly of the dungeon classrooms at Hogwarts, and something about that was not comforting. There was a single door at the end of the hall, and it swung open on silent hinges as they neared it. The room beyond was circular, its walls lined with smooth black doors with no handles. In between each door was a torch of flickering blue flames, which gave the space an eerie atmosphere, almost like being underwater.

The door clicked shut behind them, and all at once the walls started spinning. Faster and faster, until the flame from the torches was nothing but a streak of blue light. Lucien heard Elain inhale sharply as she reached for his hand.

The walls slowed, and then stopped. The doors were identical and unmarked, but Eris’ friend had done them a favor- the door to the Hall of Prophecy would be marked by a small gold marking near the bottom.

Lucien lit his wand with a whispered Lumos and crouched, inching around the circular wall until they stood in front of a door with a tiny golden mark near the bottom, no bigger than a thumbprint.

“This one.” He glanced over his shoulder to the door that led back to the hall, wondering how Eris was getting on with his ransacking of their father’s office, and froze. The doors all looked identical- including the door that led back to the hallway.

---

Elain gaped at the doors, suddenly feeling ill. A dozen of them, all identical. And, judging from Eris’ warning, some containing things they definitely did not want to find out about.

“Shit,” Lucien swore under his breath.

“It’s ok,” she said, her voice strangely high-pitched. “Eris will come join us, he’ll know the way out.”

She didn’t know whether she was saying it to reassure Lucien, or herself, and from the look on his face he didn’t seem at all convinced.

“We made it this far,” she continued. “We might as well go in. I just want to look. I just…want to see them.”

Lucien’s face (Eris’ face) softened, and it looked so wrong and so absurd that she almost laughed. “Of course. Lead the way, Lara.”

Elain laughed, her voice deeper and huskier than usual. “After tonight I never want to take polyjuice potion ever again.”

“What, you mean you don’t like seeing me as Eris?”

“I mean,” she shrugged. “He is pretty handsome.”

She laughed again at the pure horror on his face, and turned to face the door. “How do we…” She pressed a palm to the cool stone, and the door swung open easily.

As soon as they stepped into the hall beyond, the door swung shut behind them. Elain heard Lucien curse under his breath as they stood there, taking in the space with mute awe. The hall was cavernous, with rows upon rows of shelves, all lined with glass orbs filled with swirling, foggy mist. Exactly as it had been when she had seen it in the Pensieve.

“Holy shit,” Lucien said, sounding slightly stunned. “Holy shit.”

“Yup,” was all she could reply.

“These are all…”

“Prophecies,” she finished for him. “Visions, whatever.”

“Merlin. No wonder this place is kept a secret.”

They started down the main corridor, Lucien still gazing up at the stacks with open-mouthed awe. Elain could hear faint whispers coming from the prophecies, and even though she was prepared for it this time it still raised the hair on the back of her neck. She knew better than to ask if Lucien could hear them, too.

The whispering grew louder the further they walked, until their echoing footsteps were dulled, and the only sound she could truly hear were those voices. They seemed to beckon her, deeper into the stacks. She followed the call- it was like something was pulling her, a thread of something warm and bright tugging her forward.

“Elain?”

She heard his voice as if he was very far away and not directly behind her, but didn’t stop. A turn to the left, further into the stacks, and then she lurched to a stop. She heard a gasp behind her, felt Lucien’s fingers squeeze hers almost painfully.

There, in front of her, were dozens of glass orbs, all marked with her name and various dates. All filled with shimmering, swirling mist. All whispering to her, taunting her.

Do you see? they asked. Look, and you will see.

Her fingers were lifting of their own accord, until they hovered near the closest prophecy. Something tingled in her fingers, and then her hand, up her arm, like a current of electricity.

And then- footsteps, loud and hurried and insistent. Too loud. Whatever daze she had been in was broken, and she jerked her hand back, stumbling away from those prophecies. From that gap on the shelf, where one had indeed been taken. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but seeing it in a memory was one thing, and seeing it in person was another.

“Elain! Are you-Merlin, you went into some kind of trance…You were just standing there.”

Eris (no, not Eris-Lucien) was staring at her, amber eyes wide. The genuine concern in his gaze was so unlike Eris that the effect was comical.

Or, it would have been, were it not for the footsteps currently thundering towards them. Lucien grabbed her hand and turned, running back towards the door.

“What happened?” she whispered as they ran.

“I don’t know, someone must have spotted us.”

“Lara!” A voice boomed across the space. “Eris!”

“Shit!”

They cut to the left, and Elain slipped, bumping into the nearest shelf. Glass orbs fell to the floor with a crash, the mist within them releasing into the air. Whispers filled the space around them, words and phrases Elain couldn’t quite understand. The prophecies, she realized. She jerked to a stop and spun. There were images floating in the mist, a jumble of shapes and colors. And then, too quickly, the mist was gone, taking with it the prophecies it had contained.

And a figure was standing at the end of the row, wand out, face so menacing that Elain didn’t recognize him at first.

“Why were you running?” he demanded, panting heavily.

“Eris! Oh thank god!”

“Why didn’t you call our real names?” Lucien demanded. “You gave me a heart attack…”

“Don’t you know the meaning of being in disguise?”

Lucien opened his mouth to retort but Elain held up a hand before full-on squabbling took over.

“What happened? Why were you running?” she asked.

“We have to go,” he said simply. “Now.”

“What do you mean? Did you find the information you were looking for?”

Eris shook his head. “No. And honestly I’d be surprised if he even keeps that kind of information written down. But I did find this.”

He reached into a pocket of his cloak, and brought out a bundle wrapped in a piece of cloth. Wordlessly he peeled back the cloth to reveal a crystal ball, filled with swirling mist. A prophecy.

“Why did he have a….” Lucien trailed off as he surely realized what Elain already had.

“The stolen prophecy?”

Eris shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but the fact that it was locked in a hidden compartment at the back of a cabinet in his office makes me think it might very well be.”

He wrapped the cloth around it again and handed it to her. Elain cradled it to her chest, feeling the slight electric buzzing of it even through the fabric.

“We have to leave,” Eris said again. “I must have triggered some sort of security system in father’s office.”

Elain’s stomach lurched in horror. If they were caught- by the Minister himself, no less…

“You’ll have to take the Floo Network back,” Eris called over his shoulder as they ran back towards the door. “Take a lift up to the Atrium, hurry to the nearest fireplace, and get the hell out.”

“And you?” Lucien asked. They reached the door and hurtled through it and into the chamber beyond.

Eris grimaced. “I’m going to lock myself in a toilet stall until the potion wears off, and then claim that I was burning the midnight oil and started feeling unwell.”

The door to the hall clicked shut, and before they could take another step the walls started spinning.

“Shit!” Eris swore.

The wall slowed to a stop, a dozen identical doors staring back at them.

“Yeah,” Lucien agreed. “Shit indeed.”

“Only one way to find out,” Eris said grimly.

He strode to the nearest door and pressed his palm against it. It swung open, revealing not a hallway lined with torches, but another room. It was dark inside, the only light coming from what looked like tanks filled with green water. There were things bobbing in the water, glowing strangely white.

Eris took a step back and slammed the door shut. “No! Definitely not that one.” He took out his wand and slashed through the air, and a glittering red X appeared on the door.

“What were those things?” Elain asked as the wall spun again. “Jellyfish?”

“Brains,” Eris said simply.

The wall stopped again, but this time one of the doors was marked off by a fiery mark, indicating the one they had already tried. Elain picked the next door, choosing the one closest to her.

When she opened it she almost stumbled backwards. She was standing at the top of what looked like stadium seats, facing a sunken platform. In the middle of the platform was an arch resting atop a dais, with a ragged black veil hanging from it.

“Do you hear that?” Elain asked, walking down a step. Whispers seem to come from the other side of the veil, which fluttered on a phantom wind. Like the whispers in the Hall of Prophecy, but darker- more menacing. Still, they reached out to her, and she took another step towards it.

Firm hands clasped on her upper arms and yanked her back into the antechamber, the archway and veil disappearing behind a firmly shut door. Once again it was like waking up from a vague sleep, or emerging from underwater. She shuddered violently as another red X appeared on the door, and the wall spun once more.

“Sorry,” she gasped, shaking her head as if to clear water from her ears. “Sorry.”

“Note to self,” Eris said in the Auror’s deep voice, “do not let a Seer into the Department of Mysteries by themselves.”

After trying three more doors in rapid succession they finally found the hall lined with torches. They hurried to the lifts, Eris tapping his foot impatiently with every second it took for the lift to appear.

“Remember,” he said as the lift twisted its way back up to the Atrium, “straight to the nearest fireplace. Don’t pause for anything or anyone. Just get the hell out and don’t worry about me. I’ll send word when I can.”

“Atrium,” the cool female voice said.

The lift doors opened onto a flurry of activity. Wizards (Aurors, if Elain had to guess) were stalking down the length of the lobby, waving their wands towards the fireplaces that lined the walls. Sealing off the exits, she realized.

“Go!” Eris mumbled through gritted teeth. “Go, now!”

Elain went to grab Lucien’s hand, but he wasn’t moving. He was standing stock-still, staring at Eris in horror.

“Eris…the potion…”

Elain saw it at the same time he did. Auburn hair was sprouting from Eris’ scalp, the tattoos disappearing from skin that was turning fair and freckled. She had taken the potion first, which meant…

The look on Lucien’s face (now a golden tan, his short hair lengthening) said it all.

“GO!” Eris roared.

They didn’t need to be told twice. Lucien grabbed her hand and hurtled towards the closest fireplace, lifting his leather jacket to hide his face. Elain held tightly onto the prophecy, cradling it to her chest like a small child.

“Hey! You there! What are you-“

The Aurors were halfway down the Atrium, but they halted at the sound of their footsteps.

“STOP RIGHT THERE!”

Elain almost lost her footing, struggling to keep up with Lucien’s long strides, but he hauled her upright before she could sprawl to the floor. A wind was blowing at their backs, propelling them faster, and she didn’t have to turn around to know who had cast the spell.

A heartbeat later they had reached the fireplace, and Lucien scooped up a handful of Floo powder from the jar hanging on a sconce next to the hearth. A gate slammed down over the fireplace next to them, but merry green flames had already burst to life in front of them.

“Hogwarts!” Lucien gasped breathlessly, and then they stepped into the flames.

For one desperate moment Elain thought it hadn’t worked, that Aurors had managed to seal their fireplace. But then the Atrium became a blur as they spun through the fire. Before the Ministry disappeared Elain had a last glimpse of the lifts, and of a figure disappeared behind a golden grill.

Just when she was beginning to feel nauseous from spinning the world slowed around them, and then stopped. They stumbled out of the gate, brushing soot from their clothes.

“Are you alright?” Lucien asked. The voice that spoke was the deep, rich one she knew so well, and when she looked up at him it was his face that looked back at her. Elain breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m fine. Are you- what’s wrong?”

Lucien’s hand was clasped over his left eye as he winced uncomfortably. “Remind me never to take polyjuice potion again.” His eye was clicking loudly, whirring as Lucien blinked rapidly, clearly trying to get the metal eye back into focus.

Elain looked around the room, and then froze. “Lucien,” she whispered. “Did you say Hogwarts?”

Lucien froze, his metal eye quieting as it finally focused. “Oh, fuck.”

They had taken the Floo Network directly into the teachers’ lounge. The room was blissfully empty, given the late hour- save for a lone, pearly figure hovering near the ceiling.

“Well well well,” the Poltergeist jeered, swooping down to peer at them. “What do we have here? Ickle students out of bed, in the middle of the night? Snooping through the teacher’s lounge?”

Elain and Lucien shared a glance. Had the poltergeist not seen them coming out of the flames?

“Peeves,” Lucien said, his tone carefully neutral. “We weren’t doing anything…”

But the Poltergeist was already swooping towards the door, cackling madly. “Students out of bed! Students out of bed!”

Elain winced as Peeves’ voice echoed around the empty room.

“Peeves, I swear to Merlin, you-” Lucien trailed off as the Poltergeist disappeared through the wall.

Elain glanced at Lucien again, and then they simultaneously bolted for the door. Halfway down the corridor Elain stopped short.

“Wait!”

Lucien whirled, alarmed. “What is it? We have to go, Peeves is going to wake up half the castle…”

She glanced at the prophecy in her hands, and then back at Lucien. Understanding flashed in his eyes.

“I need a place to hide this.” If the teachers found her with a prophecy belonging to the Ministry of Magic, they would have a lot more explaining to do beyond simply being out of bed after hours.

“Come with me,” Lucien said simply, and then turned and ran.

They ran down the hall and then up two flights of stairs, and down another, until Elain was beginning to wonder if Lucien had a plan at all. And then she saw the familiar tapestry of Sir Cadogan, who blinked at them sleepily as they hurtled past.

“Oy!” he cried. “Who goes there?” The trolls in tutus snored around him, some of them grumbling at the sudden noise.

Lucien ignored the painted knight, shut his eyes, and walked back and forth in front of the blank stretch of wall that faced the tapestry. After the third pass a door appeared, and Elain didn’t waste any time before reaching for the knob and hurrying inside. Lucien followed her, shutting the door behind them.

“Why-“ Her question evaporated as she looked around them.

They were standing in some kind of cavernous hall, not unlike the Hall of Prophecy. But instead of shelves filled with glass orbs, the stacks stretching out in front of them were made of a wild variety of objects. Broken bits of furniture, books, paintings, boxes stacked ceiling-high. In a stack nearby Elain spotted a marble bust sporting a diadem, what looked suspiciously like an ordinary muggle lawnmower, and a wizard radio. A veritable graveyard of objects, lost or hidden or forgotten about. Generations of contraband, or treasures, or broken bits of detritus with no home. The perfect place to hide her own stolen treasure.

“How did you find this place?” She asked, looking around in wonder. If they hadn’t been in such a hurry she could have spent hours walking around, poking through the random collection of objects.

“We, ahh…discovered it when looking for a place to hide something,” he answered cagily. Elain rolled her eyes at him. “Turned out we clearly weren’t the first to require such a place. We can come back,” he added, as if reading her thoughts. “There’s some wild things in here. Rumor is there’s a Boggart somewhere…”

Elain froze with her hand halfway outstretched to an ancient-looking chest. “Really?”

Lucien’s eyes were glittering when she turned to look at him, and she shook her head at him. “Ass.”

Still, she no longer felt so confident poking around. She took a step back as Lucien pushed the lid open, peering inside. “Just some old moldy robes.”

Elain flipped back the fabric from the prophecy, taking one last glance at the murky, swirling mist inside. What knowledge did it contain?

Look, it urged her. See.

Another time. She covered it with the cloth and gently lowered it into the chest, covering it with a few robes for good measure.

“Let’s go. I’ve had enough adventures for one night.”

“Tapped out so soon?” Lucien asked in dismay. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Elain opened her mouth to retort as they stepped back into the hallway, but then fell quiet. Professor Amren was standing with her arms crossed, wearing a thick wool robe and slippers and looking more than a little annoyed.

“Mr Vanserra,” she ground out ominously, “why is it that when something happens, it is always you?”

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!): @labellefleur-sauvage @headcanonheadcase @separatist-apologist @velidewrites @c-e-d-dreamer @queercontrarian @hallway5 @areyoudreaminof @tuzna-pesma-snova @corcracrow @vulpes-fennec @octobers-veryown @autumndreaming7 @sunshinebingo @asnowfern

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien vanserra

28 notes · View notes

journey-to-the-attic · 6 months

Note

Okay idea for the Dragon AU--

WHAT IF Diavolo is the king and Barbatos is his servant and Diavolo is secretley half-dragon on Sonnos side? And him trying to make peace with dragons is so he can reveal to his people that he's half-dragon and show they aren't bad

But at the point of the AU, people still hate them hence IK stumbling upon Mammon deep in the woods after being accused of being a witch

The reason I thought of this is because I think an AWESOME concept would be if Barbatos was a dragon that learned how to take on a human disguise and act like a human

But as a dragon he's like oroboros!!!! He's watched the rise and fall of both dragon and human kind over and over and over, essentially watching the world eat its own tail and unfortunately he's as much of a slave to it as everyone else, it's just that he's one of the only ones who realizes and actively remembers ALL of it

And he's hoping that Diavolo (with the power of this strange little human) might be able to break this cycle

Just an idea but my brain is firing at 100% right now

ohohohoooo this is GOOD

okok so imagine that diavolo's been (subtly) trying to make contact with the full-blood dragons, but barbatos knows this never works out - no matter how promising things start out, something always ends up going wrong, because there is a fundamental mistrust between both humans and dragons

so there's always a miscommunication that makes either side think they've been betrayed, or one side will be too tense and convinced they'll be attacked, so prematurely attack the dragons in retaliation; it always ends in either a mass-hunting of dragonkind, or destruction of the kingdom

but then this cycle is the first time ik shows up, and this important because ik explicitly trusts that her friends will NOT do anything to hurt her on purpose - the kind of unwavering faith that diavolo wants to establish between humans and dragons

of course, there's a bit of an obstacle in that ik is also mistrusted at this point - "of course the witch child would ally with those wicked dragons!" - i imagine there'd be moments where public opinion begins to change, e.g. when ik along with one of the brothers helps save a merchant being robbed by bandits

maybe they get on diavolo's radar for the first time because one of the nobles in his court (om mephistopheles perhaps) gets attacked by monsters while technically invading the dragons' territory, but the brothers save and then return him back to safety. to diavolo this is a MIRACLE, and he MUST meet this witch-child who's prompted the dragons to show compassion to humans immediately

(to put an ironic twist on this, maybe the reason ik's never appeared before now is because barbatos's attempts to set things on the right track in previous cycles always butterly-effected into her being killed prematurely; she only survives in this one because barbatos is standing back in the hope that diavolo would be able to break the cycle)

(he only figures this out upon going back over his memories from past cycles - since at the time the deaths were just part of the (what he thought was) inevitable collateral damage of his efforts)

#answering asks #whensam #ouhhhh the ouroboros thing!!!!! sam your brain is so unfathomably big #dragon au #jtta aus #i think this is a constant with barbatos... always over-burdening himself with the inevitable nature of fate #and the things that he can or cannot do under time's shackles #only for ik to come along and show him that the solution is simple really #love is enduring!! love moves all!!! and she can fit so much love inside her little body!!!!!!#the thing about ik is that she thinks she can hold whole world in her hands when she cares enough. and you know what she's right

16 notes · View notes

inexplicifics · 2 years

Note

I'm rereading Three Bells and I just had a thought that Voltehre would have LOVED to be a trainer in AWAU under the new rules (and also would probably adore Milena). So two questions :

what do you think the reaction would be if a Three Bells situation happened and Voltehre was suddenly alive again in AWAU?

For Want of A Nail: what would the story be like if Voltehre had never died in the AWAU? Would we still have the same Labert we know and love? Would he and Adien still have the same relationship? Would he have been adopted post haste by the Griffins and started a mini good natured fued between Cohen and Lamb?

Lambert with a living Voltehre would have been…probably a lot less of an asshole. Still prickly, because I think that’s baked in, but less so. Voltehre would probably have a reputation as “the Lambert whisperer.”

I don’t know if they’d be lovers or just best friends. Aiden might actually have had an easier time of befriending Lambert, because Lambert isn’t constantly set on “mistrust everything and bite it before it bites you.” Voltehre and Aiden would probably also be very dear friends, united in their fondness for their prickly, marvelous Lambert.

As for a Three Bells variant on the AW AU…hmmmmmmm.

Ciri did not mean to do whatever the hell she just did, and when she gets back to Kaer Morhen, she’s going to tell Aunt Yen they need a lot more safeguards when they’re trying to figure out what powers her Elder Blood gives her.

She’s somewhere very dark, and there’s something large nearby - she can hear it breathing, a steady deep huffing snore - and cold slightly slimy stone against her back. Far off to her left, she can see a faint gleam of what might be sunlight.

She starts edging in that direction, keeping her steps light and careful just the way Kiyan has taught her, dagger easy in her hand. It won’t do her much good against most monsters, but it might give her just enough time to get away.

There’s a soft sound off to one side, and she freezes, peering through the gloom and wishing she had a Witcher’s eyesight. Another soft sound - a footstep, leather brushing against stone. There are other people here.

Ciri presses herself back against the stone and breathes as quietly as she can. More people is…bad. If they wake up whatever is snoring…

The thought, unfortunately, appears to summon the reality into the world. Someone stumbles, tripping and sending something clattering into the darkness, and the monster wakes with a roar.

“Run, Lam!” someone yells. “Go. Go!”

There’s the sound of scampering feet - lots of them - and the monster roars again, and then there’s light.

Igni, from the hands of a terrified Witcher trainee she doesn’t recognize at all.

Ciri gets only the briefest glimpse of the fucking cyclops before the trainee who summoned Igni is snatched up in an enormous hand and crushed like a rat in a terrier’s jaws. The other trainees scatter in every direction, and the cyclops, clearly well-adapted to the darkness, strides among them. Ciri huddles against the wall, shaking, as scream after scream is swiftly cut off.

She wants to help, but there’s no way she can kill a cyclops. A cyclops is a task for a full Witcher patrol, not one half-grown girl. She has no idea why there’s one close enough to a Witcher keep that there are trainees in its cave, but that’s a question for Papa once she’s out and has figured out what is going on.

She sees a silhouette against the distant daylight, and thanks the gods that one of the trainees has made it out safely. The others…by the horrid crunching sounds, she doesn’t think many of the others are going to follow suit.

There’s a soft thump as someone runs into the wall maybe an arm’s length away from her, and Ciri strains her eyes to see a lanky, tall young man pressed against the stone. He doesn’t seem to have noticed her; his eyes are fixed in the direction of the terrible sounds.

And then there’s the sound of a heavy footstep, and Ciri gasps as the cyclops looms out of the darkness, maw dripping with gore. The trainee glances over at the sound and sees her.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and then snaps, “Run, girl!” and slaps the wall.

Drawing the monster’s attention away from her. Trying, even now, to save someone else.

Ciri can’t let him die.

She lunges, tackling him around the waist as the cyclops swings its massive fist, and as they topple to the ground together she reaches out for whatever the hell power brought her here and yanks as hard as she can.

The world goes oddly blue, and then she and the trainee are rolling together onto the floor of Aunt Yen’s workroom.

“What the hell,” Aunt Yen says as Ciri lets go of the trainee and bounces to her feet. “Cub, what -”

“I don’t know what happened but there was a cyclops,” Ciri says. “It was awful.”

Aunt Yen goes white. “A what?” she blurts.

The trainee sits up. He’s blond, Ciri sees now, with a spray of freckles on his cheeks and a snub nose and big hands and feet that suggest he’s not done growing; he’s sort of cute, really.

“That was Old Speartip,” he says. “Where am I, who are you, and what in hell is going on?”

“You’re in Kaer Morhen,” Ciri tells him. “I’m Ciri, the Wolf’s cub, and this is Yennefer of Vengerberg. Who’re you?”

The trainee gives her a very confused look. “I’m Voltehre,” he says. “And I suppose I’m still of the Wolves, since I’m not dead. But there’s no girls in Kaer Morhen.”

Ciri swallows hard. She has a very odd feeling about this. “What year is it?” she asks Voltehre.

“What year? 1178, I think, unless you want the elven reckoning.”

“Ah,” Ciri says, and sits down, hard. “Aunt Yen? I think I figured out what I did.”

“Did you travel in time, cub?” Aunt Yen asks. “Oh dear. That makes two time-related catastrophes for you. I’m going to have to find a proper expert in this, and I frankly haven’t the first idea where to start looking.”

“What year is it now?” Voltehre asks warily.

“1244,” Ciri says. Voltehre’s jaw drops.

“No shit,” he says weakly after a moment. “Sixty-six years?”

Ciri nods. Voltehre swallows hard.

“I have a sort of weird question,” he says slowly. “And I…I don’t expect you to know, necessarily, but I have to ask. Is - is there any chance that there’s a Witcher named Lambert still alive?”

Run, Lam! in Voltehre’s voice, cracking with terror. Ciri swallows hard.

“Dark hair, swears a lot, really good at alchemy?” she checks. Voltehre nods, eyes going huge. “Yes. He’s still alive.” Ciri stands and offers Voltehre a hand up. “Come on. I’ll take you to him. I - I think he’ll be very glad to see you alive.”

#questions answered #ask meme #fic specific asks #accidental warlord au #voltehre #ciri #snippet

199 notes · View notes

tw-episodereactions · 8 months

Text

Teen Wolf 1x11

I realize the electricity is more to show the audience what’s happening, but it just makes it look very unsafe. We need OSHA standards for this torture session.

“What are you doing to him? Is that going to kill him?” Allison asks in a vaguely concerned voice like someone isn’t being tortured in front of her. Like, I feel like her reaction would be a little more visceral.

Like, she literally told Jackson that she didn’t think what was after them in the school was Derek so as far as she knows he hasn’t actually done anything wrong. I mean, okay sure he’s definitely not fully human, but still.

“Don’t get all ethical on me now.” Umm, when has Allison not been shown as ethical? She’s snuck out and ditched class (fairly normal teenage behavior - and even those two things were shown as something that she doesn’t normally do) but that’s like the extent of any misdeeds.

I think Kate gets wrapped up in her own psychosis and forgets how regular people would act.

“How else do you think I stay sane?” Buddy, I think we missed that turnoff a few miles back.

Kate did not actually answer her question. Also, I am so confused at Allison’s reaction here. Is she is shock? I know that Allison’s had a thing about being scared, but Derek’s screams and Kate’s levity is so off putting you’d think her compassion would be overriding everything else. I mean, dog’s have big old canines too and she immediately tried to help it, even though she was scared. I don’t get it.

Like, that definitely makes sense that it’s the tactic Kate would use, but this whole scene still feels off to me.

Torturing someone who’s tied up and who, as far as you know, didn’t do anything wrong, as a way to feel powerful is, uh, spineless actually.

We had like two full minutes of Allison’s close up reaction to all of this, which is way more than we’ve ever gotten of Scott’s reaction, and yet all I’m getting from her is shock. Which, I admit is a valid reaction, but I’m going to need to see Allison get angry and mistrustful about her family, and I’m going to need her compassion to rear its head to make this believable.

My experience with crying in front of a cop amounts to him giving me a ticket and basically saying don’t drive angry and then leaving, which is a totally cool thing to say to someone crying so hard I was dry heaving. ACAB.

Nah, I reject this. I know that her wanting to feel powerful has been a theme since literally the first episode, but so has her kindness and compassion and willingness to stand up for people. If this was something immediate and in the moment, that’s one thing, but her watching someone be tortured and then feel cool about killing them is not in character in my opinion.

Have I mentioned that I like Deaton? He’s just so chill.

Like, got kidnapped and escaped, nbd. Carried his employee through the woods and performed surgery to save his life, all in a day’s work. He clearly knows something about Peter, even if he doesn’t know he’s an Alpha, and is just willing to play along without backing down.

Deaton steps forward like a badass. “Like I said, we’re closed.”

Bet you a million dollars his heart rate was fucking steady as a metronome.

Well someone can clearly ward things against werewolves. I wonder why the Argents don’t have that.

“Mountain Ash, that’s an old one.” Huh, I wonder if Deaton isn’t actually fully human himself, like an elf or Druid or something that lives a long time and uses natural warding.

FUCKING BADASS. DEATON, HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE A KING?!

That effect was well done as well.

Scott, buddy, if you can hear him then he can hear you. Also, you should be sticking around Deaton and figuring out how he got titanium balls, because that dude is clearly the kind of mentor you need.

I mean, I can only guess that the reason he wasn’t helping Scott before is that he didn’t know Scott was involved in the werewolf shenaniganary until Derek kidnapped him.

Are you kidding me, why are we not questioning Deaton about what he knows and how he can help?! Why are we going back to Derek who is still terrible?! This makes no sense!

“They use Derek to get Peter, problem solved.” Lol, again, I’m sort of with Stiles on this.

Stiles is making some points, honestly. But, like, Stiles. I’m glad you’re sitting down because you don’t really have a leg to stand on when it comes to Derek’s history of violence against Scott. Much different scale, admittedly, but still.

“He wasn’t going to kill anyone. And I’m not letting him die.”

I’m not sure why Scott’s so convinced of that. He’s only helped Scott twice, and while this last time did cost him terribly, he’s still been the absolute worst to Scott at every other opportunity. This speaks more to Scott’s character than anything.

Uhhh, why would Melissa possibly be calling Peter back? She was definitely creeped out by him, I don’t get it.

Oh, my heart. Give Melissa and Scott some hugs stat.

Just now realized that the McCall house is not blue. We’ve only ever seen the outside at night in the blue lighting.

Do we know why her car is missing a side mirror? Am I not remembering an accident? Whether I am or not, it’s actually a nice subtle reference to them not having much money. I’d prefer more of those instead of the clunky dialogue earlier in the scene since presumably Stiles would a) know of their money problems and b) remember that Derek already killed Scott’s first phone like a week ago so he can’t exactly replace another one so easily.

“Scott, you can’t protect everyone,” is a nice sentiment, Stiles, but you literally beat him up and got him beat up because he didn’t protect your pops. You also flat out told him, “You can do things that nobody else can do. So that means you don’t have a choice anymore. It means you have to do something.”

Like, what led to the turnaround here? Or is it that you only want him to put his life on the line to protect the people you want him to protect and everyone else can suck it?

So clearly he can get pictures taken without his eyes reacting to the flash. That seems like if it’s an official booking he’d be smarter to not let his eyes react because he’s been so keen on keeping the secret. I guess I’ve never thought he was smart though.

Ugh, Kate is so gross. Did Derek give her info about his his family during pillow talk and that’s why he’s so angry at himself? Still not an excuse for how he treats people, but I can sort of see why he’s been such a bitch about Scott and Allison’s relationship.

Scott, bud, I need you to go back to Deaton and figure out the thing about Mountain Ash and use it to protect Allison’s house. Work smarter not harder.

Ummm, excuse you guy in the top right of the locker room shot who is jamming to his own beat, I love you.

Scott who’s wanted to play lacrosse since the first episode and who’s spent several episodes in pursuit of this goal even after he turned, just up and quits so that he can go to the dance to protect Allison. I still have to wonder though if it isn’t just about his feelings for her, but also about his ability to anchor himself with her.

Wasn’t Jackson planning on going with her anyway, why’s he being such a dick? Oh, right, it’s Jackson. That’s just his natural state of being.

Lol, trying to appeal to Jackson’s humanity is hilarious.

Stiles, buddy, you are not even close to being always right. But you do have a much better understanding of assholes because you are one half the time.

Wait, hold up. I honestly don’t get what they’re trying to go for with this scene. I mean, I know that in most other circumstances they’d be implying that Scott either very convincingly threatened physical harm or caused actual physical harm.

But, like, actually causing physical harm to someone with intent who’s not actively attacking him is wildly out of character for Scott, and Jackson knows that. There’s literally no threat that I can think of that Scott could convincingly make that Jackson would actually believe.

Jackson, even after he found out Scott was a mythical monster, even after Scott has physically hurt both him and his bff, has still openly taunted and threatened Scott without fear of reprisal. He has too much belief in his own superiority over Scott to be effected that much by just a threat, which means that Scott would have had to do way more than just shove him against a door, and I literally just can’t buy that with the way they developed Scott’s character. They either fucked up Jackson’s character, fucked up Scott’s character or fucked up both in that scene.

Ugh, and now Allison’s character too. What the fuck is going on in this episode?

Because after that four minute traumatic beginning to the episode and her tossing and turning in her sleep, we get smiley, bubbly Allison again? I call shenanigans. Like, they could have gone all in on the mood changes as she struggled to reconcile her whole childhood and her morals/ethics with her new change of heart, but we haven’t gotten any of that so it just seems like bad writing/acting/directing.

Is Lydia buying Allison a dress because she kissed Scott? Because, actually that does seem like a pretty big apology. Now that she’s not attached to Jackson did Lydia Martin find a conscience?

I don’t get it. Why would Allison want Lydia to go with Stiles?

Funny how usually when someone is telling someone else to smile, it’s usually a man telling a woman, but in this episode it’s been Kate telling Derek and now Allison and Lydia saying it to each other.

Bet you ten bucks that Lydia already had her dressed picked out, and is now doing retail therapy because of Stiles.

Peter, dude, you are so creepy. I was going to say that we know he’s got game because he was able to ask Melissa out successfully, but also after he was incredibly creepy she still called him for a second date, so maybe he’s just like this all the time.

I do not fucking get Allison’s characterization in the episode! Vaguely concerned leads to fearful and crying leads to her confidently shooting arrows at Derek’s wanted poster leads to trouble sleeping, then bubbly with Jackson, cautious with Lydia, and now she’s like full on panicking baby deer.

I wish we could have had a conversation between her and her dad where she brings up the book that she initially got from Kate and watched her evaluating gaze as he lied to her again. I wish we could have seen her conversation with Jackson be more subdued as she tries to get out of the dance because of all the stuff going on and he cajoles her into going still, and as they’re walking away she tells him that she found some things out that she wants to tell him.

I wish we saw Peter being creepy and her feeling vulnerable before she slowly steels her spine because she’s gaining confidence in herself.

The way they’re showing this makes it seem less like she’s wavering in her new view of the world and her place in it and more like the director or editor fucked up in the order of events.

“I have to say, Scott, I continue to be impressed with your ingenuity.” I’m going to be honest, it didn’t even occur to me that Scott was responsible for the announcement. I thought she was just lying to get away from him, but now I am also very impressed.

Quite a leap there, Kate. Not that she’s particularly good with logic.

I do like Melissa, even if she’s bad at her job, and I do love the sweet relationship that she and Scott have.

Oh, buddy, alcohol seems like a bad idea.

Scott, you’re going to rip those pants again.

You’d think Scott would have trauma from the bleachers.

Uh, Stiles? What the hell? That was like one step removed from negging, and I’m not a fan.

So many of those people are not high schoolers.

Is it weird to anyone else that Danny’s sexuality has been used to manipulate people twice now? Once Danny and now the Coach. I mean, we’ve seen other characters use their own sexuality to manipulate people on this show, but it’s other people using Danny’s sexuality, and that seems weird. Am I reading too much into that?

Is that the Alpha or the Argents with night vision goggles? Who knows?

Uh, you better not be letting Lydia go alone Stiles.

I can’t believe it took me this long to see it, but Jackson’s arc is running parallel to Allison’s: both want to stop being afraid. Both want power. Both are very much in over their heads.

Okay, not night vision goggles, but still Argents. Oop, and Chris still thinks he’s the beta.

Oh, hey, nice that we got insight into why Allison’s not mad at Scott ditching her in his room. Kind of wish that line drop had happened earlier. I wonder if a scene got cut where they showed that conversation, which led to Allison asking Lydia to go with Stiles. Because that still makes no sense whatsoever.

“You promise you won’t hurt him?” Holy shit, that came out of nowhere. Like two weeks earlier Jackson fucked up the Molotov cocktail on purpose to try and get Scott killed. And then earlier in this episode it was heavily implied that Scott was physically violent with him.

Oh. I just had a wild fucking thought that is undoubtedly not true, but is literally that only thing that would explain Jackson’s change of heart with both Allison as well as the one in this scene with Chris.

So we’ve already seen with Derek that a beta who is overwhelmed can accidentally transfer memories to Jackson via claws to the neck and also not realize that he’s done it. What if after Scott slammed Jackson against the door he tried to hold him in place by the throat, but when Jackson tried to shove him off, Scott’s claws slipped out. Maybe punctured the same marks that Derek made. Maybe some of Scott’s recent trauma bled through the link that Derek already created.

It would explain why Jackson was willing to help Allison, but also why he was so sweaty and jumpy about it. And it would explain why he doesn’t want Chris to hurt a guy he didn’t give a shit about before because he got whispers of Scott’s trauma but also his kindness and empathy.

This is my headcanon until proven otherwise.

This conversation is all over the place. Yay for Scott telling her how he feels, but I kind of feel like the other conversation was a tad more important.

Well this can’t be good.

But also, fucking lol at this dramatic shit. Peter flipping switches out there to find the right ones for when someone wandered his way.

Lydia, take off your heels and run, girl.

“You’re the clever one, Stiles.” Umm, I’m going to need a clear example of Stiles being clever. Like, he’s clearly smart, he can clearly research, but his plans are always slapdash and only sometimes work.

Maybe that’s just Peter’s way of calling him a smartass.

Also, Stiles, what have you been hiding?

Okay 1) why the fuck would Stiles think that? Again, Derek’s not a particularly great strategist either, and even if he was a great strategist, what evidence has Stiles seen of that, and 2) why didn’t Stiles tell Scott when Scott was panicking about it earlier?

Scott does not have good associations with these busses, Allison. Also, y’all about to get got by Mr. Argent.

Gross, Allison, you don’t know where that glass has been.

Chris, I know that Jackson told you the truth, but you don’t actually know that Jackson told you the truth, and you could have vehicularly manslaughtered a sixteen year old kid right then.

I feel that Scott’s capable enough to make that leap without shifting, and it would have been so fucking funny if he hadn’t, actually.

P.S. I want you to know that I went back and watched the part in the last episode at full brightness like six times and there is literally nothing to indicate Derek took Scott’s phone, and - again - literally no reason to think Stiles would know that he did. This episode should have been called deus ex machina.

In conclusion, 1) why do all of these adults keep going to the sixteen year old to track each other down? 2) setting up consistent characterizations for a season and then switching them up in the second to last episode is, how shall I put this? Bad. And 3) why was Deaton not in this episode way more?

#teen wolf #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #episode reaction #derek hale #allison argent #jackson whittemore #chris argent #kate argent #lydia martin #1x11

11 notes · View notes

thatgirl4815 · 2 years

Text

Physical & Emotional Trust (meta)

Kinn and Porsche love each other, but they can’t trust each other.

By this point, we know Kinn and Porsche love each other. But we also know that love requires trust. Television dramas are no stranger to mistrust; in fact, trust issues lie at the core of a large number of failed relationships both in fiction and in the real world. But trust is appropriately multi-faceted, and I think KinnPorsche wants us to consider it in more than one light.

In the context of romantic relationships, trust is more than believing your lover will not cheat on you. This goes without saying, but it’s worth discussing how far it extends beyond this, because I think it can easily be reduced to this in the fictional sphere. Trusting someone means respecting their choices, knowing that they will stand behind you even when you're not there to see it, believing that they will support you and stay with you despite obstacles or distance. It’s emotional, certainly, but it’s also physical. In my opinion, the first part of KinnPorsche’s journey was the (relatively subtle) development of their physical trust. What they’re getting to now--and what the end of Ep7 shows--is that they need to merge their level of physical trust with emotional trust. This is not to say that KP do not have any emotional trust, but it’s clearly underdeveloped as a result of their own personal issues (I say ‘their,’ but I mostly mean Kinn’s). Physical trust can exist without emotional trust, as we’ve seen with KP’s relationship up to this point, but a healthy relationship requires the full development of the physical and the emotional.

The lines are understandably blurry when it comes to physical and emotional trust because they intersect in so many ways. But though I’ve made this distinction, a certain degree of emotional trust is necessary to have any amount of physical trust--at least when it comes to the kind of intense physical interactions between Kinn and Porsche.

**Please note that all of this analysis is based on my own personal interpretation of KP’s relationship. I’m not trying to say that this is the "correct” way of reading into KP’s trust throughout the series, only that it is how I personally approach it.

Physical Trust

I don’t think I need to detail this point extensively, as Kinn and Porsche’s physical comfortability is pretty clear by this point. But I don’t think we were able to really prove this comfortability until the end of Ep7. To me, Ep6 shows a lot of this development from Porsche’s side. I reference Porsche individually because Porsche is the one with reason to mistrust Kinn physically for what happened at the end of Ep4. However, after Kinn’s apology and Porsche’s forgiveness, their physical trust seems to be in a good place. Porsche tells Kinn at the end of Ep6 that he forgave Kinn a long time ago, and I think we see that play out partly in how physically close they are throughout the episode (and not just because they’re handcuffed). Porsche lays his head on Kinn’s shoulder, he kisses him back by the waterfall, he engages the kiss at the end and locks Kinn in an embrace. All of these developments hint at the formation of physical trust.

So, then, what is physical trust exactly? It’s tied to emotional trust in a lot of important ways, but at its most basic, physical trust is the comfortability with touch and/or physical proximity. It doesn’t always need to include touch specifically, but it does require physical closeness--believing that your partner will respect your physical being and appreciate it. This goes beyond the kind of sexual encounters that Kinn and Porsche are used to. The inextricable tether to emotional trust is pretty clear here.

There’s a definite arc in episodes 4-7 regarding physical intimacy and the development of physical trust. The kiss in Ep3 is a physically intimate moment, yes, but Ep4 is when the breach of trust occurs. In the moment, under the influence of drugs, Porsche voices his consent and willingness to get physically intimate, but we know that this does not hold up. Whether or not he has feelings for Kinn is beside the point: he was physically violated. His negative feelings towards this act are certainly muddied by his attraction to Kinn, but the point still stands that his physical violation led to emotional harm. Ep4 is, understandably, the peak of physical mistrust in KP’s relationship. So, how do we break down Kinn and Porsche’s development of physical trust?...

Ep4 is where this trust falters, Ep5 is where this trust is continually threatened, Ep6 is the reformation/reconciliation of this trust, and Ep7 is the summit of this trust.

Emotional Trust

Ep7. Where strong physical trust is at its most evident. But it is also where emotional trust is at its most questionable. This intersection is interesting because we know from the end of Ep7 that Kinn and Porsche rely on their physical trust to (at least temporarily) resolve issues with their emotional trust. They are nasty to each other. They go for the weak spots, what they know will set off the other person. For Kinn, it is a reference to his history of mistrust with his previous lover. For Porsche, it is a question of his physical faithfulness. Note how emotional and physical trust intersect yet again--the question of Porsche’s emotional fidelity to Kinn comes with the question of his physical fidelity.

By the time the bathroom scene comes around in Ep7, Kinn and Porsche know they’ve established a strong foundation for physical intimacy. They trust each other in this way. I’d say this is quite a remarkable feat, considering the mistrust that Porsche must’ve been feeling towards Kinn after Ep4. But Ep7 proves just how necessary Ep6 was; it’s probably the most important episode of the series so far for KP’s relationship development. Kinn’s sincere apology and obvious regret combined with Porsche’s physical/emotional attraction to him solidify their physical trust in Ep7. Kinn also feels comfortable initiating intimacy with Porsche now (in a way he clearly didn’t during Ep6 when he pulled away from Porsche’s kiss by the waterfall). He knows they’ve solidifed that trust and they both know they have a strong sexual attraction to one another. So, when KP’s emotional trust is threatened, Kinn relies on their physical trust to mend it.

Kinn knows he screwed up and he knows his mistrust was bringing out his old self. All the regret is visible in his face, but all he can manage to communicate verbally is one broken “I’m sorry” and the rest is offered nonverbally. If Porsche did not also respond to and find solace in physical intimacy, then I don’t think he would’ve accepted this kind of apology.

What I think we’ll see next episode is that physical intimacy is not a proper substitute for an actual conversation. BUT I think it is worth pointing out how comfortable they are physically. The degree of vulnerability they were able to show each other physically does reflect their deep emotional attachment to each other (we already know that Kinn only kisses people he has an emotional attachment to). As I've reiterated throughout this post, to achieve KP’s level of physical intimacy, there must also be some emotional trust there. But it’s not at its proper level to support a healthy, lasting relationship. That’s what needs to be built up.

[GIF by smittenskitten]

Notice how, unlike in Ep4, Kinn and Porsche are eye-to-eye almost the entire time. They’re putting themselves at the same level. Not only that, but they are making constant eye contact. I think this helps to reiterate the emotional vulnerability they are showing through the physical act itself. They care about the reaction of the other person, and they’re saying a lot without saying anything at all.

What hurts is that Kinn and Porsche want to fully trust each other emotionally. They’re desperate for it, as I think we see in the last scene of Ep7. It’s an apology from Kinn and forgiveness from Porsche. What’s also sad is that these trust issues would be largely, if not entirely, absent if Kinn was not so badly affected by his role in the mafia and his past relationship with Tawan. Kinn is taking the lead in the damage to their emotional trust.

~ ~ ~

I might’ve combined ideas a bit too much in this post/muddled some distinctions but hopefully it makes some sense. As always, I’d love to hear everybody else’s thoughts! :)

For more admittedly excessive KP meta, and meta exclusive to Ep7, see this post.

#kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche meta #I really need to stop this #I keep going down KinnPorsche rabbit holes #Hopefully this isn't just word vomit #But trust was marketed as an integral part of this series from the get go #But I don't think it's fair to say that KP have NO trust #It's just not ALL the trust they need for their relationship to work properly #They've made such progress already but the emotional trust is what needs to be defined before they can really move forward #kinn x porsche #kinn and porsche #KP #kinn theerapanyakul #porsche kittisawasd #porsche pachara #kinn anakinn

149 notes · View notes