#I've seriously considered taking her and using her in another story | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

narcjsistx · 7 months ago

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𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 | kaiser x reader

— part eight

plot: kaiser comforted you after a bad and slow breakup, but what will happen now considering what you two shared? is everything still unexpected or is there something you both simply have yet to realize?. fluff shit 'cause yeah!!

words: 4k (4016)

extra: it will probably become a multi part story, tell me if you're interested in a part nine!

You stood still while the stylist took your measurements, occasionally jotting them down in a notebook. Another woman helped you hold your arms out and yet another, sitting further to the side, selected on the tablet the colors that looked best on you. A little shiver often ran down your spine, but it was one of pure emotion: after weeks and weeks of stopping, being about to return to the catwalk seemed more beautiful than a miracle

The agency, which you had discovered was called TraumLaufsteg, was a medium fashion agency that wasn't very famous in Germany, but had all the credentials to become one. The staff had welcomed you very well, and not even after half an hour of conversation, you were already predestined for the fashion show that would take place in a few days to open the new fashion season. From spending every day at home, you now often came back late, if not later than Michael, who was always busy with his training until late at night. It was a newfound pace of life, tiring for sure, but one you had been used to for several years. Exhausting, but glorious. And then, Michael made the difference: in the silence of your apartment, in the dark of curious eyes, your love was growing day after day

In the morning you woke up in the same bed, you had breakfast together or one of you made it for the other if he or you had to leave the house early, you were busy all day and in the evening, now tired, you had dinner together on the sofa and then went to sleep together again. It was a cycle that had accustomed you right away, that had not caused you a bit of discomfort at the beginning as had happened to you in the early days of your cohabitation with Gabriel. Everything with Michael came out so frighteningly naturally, and you loved it, maybe more than you loved him

The media suspected you were making a comeback on the catwalk, by now all the social networks knew that you often entered the headquarters of TraumLaufsteg. It was obvious, but the world was waiting for you, and you would repay them. They also knew that you now lived in Germany, but you had kept the fact that you lived in Kaiser's house a secret. Everything was returning to your beloved rhythm; everything was returning to normality leaving aside the sadness that had accompanied you for so long

You were seriously starting to live again

"From the selection I made, we could go for something in silver and purple. Maybe we could also dare with black" says the woman with the tablet, approaching. You nod, still standing still "I've already walked the runway with these colors, especially purple" you say, and the woman nods "I noticed, I also analyzed some of your old shows. We already have some pieces that we can let you try on, so we can already start with a base" says the woman, and you smile at her "I get it. Allright"

"Kristal, when you're done here, get the clothes in dressing room 27. We can let her try them right now" the woman says, and immediately one of the women gets up and disappears from the room, returning a few minutes later with something to try. The dress she is holding is long and dark purple in color, and is made of a shiny material that looks like velvet. The dress has a low neckline that is decorated with rhinestones and stones, that form an elaborate design that resembles a flower. The top of the dress is tight and features a v-neckline at the back. The bottom of the dress is a mermaid, with a skirt that falls tight to the knees before expanding into a wide train, and the sleeves are long and tight. You stare enchanted at the dress, which as soon as you try it on is immediately named as yours

“It’s really beautiful” you say excitedly, looking at yourself in the mirror as the women nod in satisfaction “It seems made just for you. Our stylist will be thrilled to know you’re wearing her favorite" says the woman who seems to be called Kristal. You give her a kind smile and you feel the same emotion for your very first fashion show, which happened several years ago now

"What do you think of the one the assistant drew?" one woman says, and after a few seconds of silence the other nods, sending her to another dressing room. The girl returns with something: a silver dress, off the shoulder, in satin with a thigh high slit; it features a draped bodice and a fitted waistline that flows into a flowing skirt. It looks good on you, but not as good as the purple one. Women seem to notice and add a few notes on the tablet and notebook "Let's try the black one"

Kristal returns with a black velvet dress with gold chains; is sleeveless and has a halter neck. The chains are attached to the dress at the shoulders and waist; is fitted at the bodice and flares out at the bottom. This is definitely better than the other

"You'll scare even our models already in the agency, trust me Y/n. You're already ahead of the game, and you will shine"

"If you order that shit again I swear I'll take all my stuff and leave the house" you say, chewing in disgust the dinner that Michael ordered this time. He laughs, nudging you as he takes another helping of his food "Stop it. It's not that bad" he says, but you would have every right to tell him that it is absolutely shit "I don't even know what's in it and I don't even want to find out" you say "It's just vegetables and yogurt sauce" he says, and you remain impassive "You're not going to change my mind, Micheal Kaiser"

It's more than midnight, you've been home less than an hour and Kaiser just twenty minutes ago. The agency kept you much longer than expected and he had something with Bastard Munchen. Sitting on the couch, next to each other, snug as mussels, you have dinner as you've become accustomed to: couch, TV turned on to the match replay channel and fairly unpleasant food. It's become a habit to be like this by now, completely messing up meal times; but only in the evening is the time when you can be completely close. And then you don't mind having Michael's arm around your shoulders, to keep you closer to him

"Today was the dress fitting, they gave me a really nice one. They say it could be one of the best catwalk comebacks in recent years" you say, lazily watching the television, which is showing the replay of a match that Michael played a few months ago. Ness appears on the screen, easily passing the opponents of the Colombian team

"Nothing I didn't expect" he says after swallowing the food "I was wondering something on the way home" he says. Benedict, a teammate, takes the ball after Ness's pass, dribbling past a boy who's taller than a two legged bear

"Like?" you ask turning towards him

"Usually when they offer us players a collaboration they give us all the information about the agency, whether it's fashion or some bullshit like that. They force us to read contracts hundreds of meters long just to get us to sign a stupid signature" he says, and you nod "Well, they give us a lot of information. But from what you've been telling me from the beginning, it seems to me that this agency hasn't given you much more information besides some that you asked for. It seems strange to me, that's all"

You think about his words. In reality he is not entirely wrong, taking away some information that you had, you were not told much. You do not deny that you had had a lot of other proposals from other agencies, but you had chosen this one because it seemed interesting to you. You had searched on the Internet, and beyond some basic information on their site or some other review, there was nothing else. The founder was unknown, you only knew that he was someone extremely rich who was more important in the world of photography than fashion. You had signed a contract with them pretty much the same day, but now because of this thing Kaiser had told you, you were thinking that accepting pretty much right away wasn't the best idea

You also had to admit that the only agency you had worked for was Gabriel's, which had practically always made you the best. You were inexperienced in this field.

"I hadn't thought about it, I have to be honest. But I think they did because they're not a very well known agency, and they probably don't know how contracts and everything work. I talked to a few other models and now that I think about it they seemed a bit perplexed" you say thinking

"So how long have you been working for the agency?" you ask, sipping a coffee that they just brought you "Oh! At least three years, or something like that" says the woman, who you've discovered is a little younger than you and on hers first catwalks "I'm glad! They all seem very welcoming, or at least at the beginning" you say, playing it down, and the girl laughs but you see her a little perplexed "Did I say something wrong?" you say, and he shakes her hands "No, no absolutely! I was just thinking... well, I can't complain about the staff, not even the photographers actually. But they're quite stupid, if I may say so, in their contracts or in their management" says the woman, and you find yourself a little surprised by her words "Like?" you ask "Oh, well... I was listed as their model but the contract had expired at least a year ago. Which I didn't know, let's be specific! I had to find out because of a coincidence... let's say they're not very precise about this, y'know" she says, and you nod "Did you have any problems too?" she asks, but you shake your head "Oh, no. Actually none. Or at least for the moment..." you say thinking about it "Yeah, maybe it was just my coincidence" she says sipping her drink

"But I think I'm safe. They're treating me like a precious jewel and at the same time I'm not afraid to pay a lawyer in case something happens" you say, and Micheal chuckles slightly at your words "I understand. Do as you wish. I'm just telling you to be careful, because I don't have a good feeling" he says, and you huff and rest your head on his shoulder "Less worries and more nice food" you say, and this time you're the one laughing because of Micheal's annoyed face

“Anyway, I was wondering…” you say, after a bit of silence. The TV was turned off a while ago, after the replay of Kaiser’s goal in the old game. The food boxes are now scattered on the coffee table, promising you that you’ll throw them in the trash before going to bed “Hmm?” he murmurs, stopping to run his hand up and down your back, while you’re lying on top of him “I didn’t tell you to stop. I was saying… the fashion show is coming up soon, right?” you say, and he nods "Less than a week. Or something like that" he says, and it's you this time who nods "Yes. The night of your game" you say "I already told you I'll be there. It doesn't take me that long to shower and come over to wherever you are" he says, huffing but affectionately "I know. But at the same time I don't want you to have to rush for a simple fashion show. You can just come backstage after I'm done" you say, and he shakes his head "It's your moment, a moment that you deserve by the way. How can I not be when I know my girl is going to shine?" he says

Even after all the kisses and nights spent together, this name still has a certain effect on you. He's used it a lot since you've been together, and every time it seems to strike a chord in you that sounds so loving for the boy called 'the emperor'. You smile almost spontaneously, tilting your head so that it ends up against his arm. Being loved again is so damn good that sometimes you wonder if you were seriously so stupid as not to notice Kaiser when you were comparing him to Gabriel

You were hating the cover, which you knew would last a long time, but you knew it was the best decision, although at the same time you knew how Micheal was ready to break it any time you wanted. It's just that now, with all the love you have, you feel like you don't deserve it because you're not used to it. You're not used to good morning kisses, hugs when you get home, caresses while you're doing something else. You're used to sharp jokes when you've done something slightly wrong, you're used to moments of silence when you have no desire other than to talk, you're used to an empty house for days on end without anyone bothering to come. You weren't used to all those little attentions that Gabriel had given you only at the beginning of the relationship, and that he did every now and then to keep you tied to his finger. You're used to your ex, and not to the wonderful boyfriend you now have and who you knew would always treat you well, in friendship and in a possible love. The difference is that now this boy was the same one who was kissing you. You didn't even know when he started, but it must have been a few seconds ago because his lips were still a tad cold. You kissed him back, resting your hand against his cheek as he continued to move his hand up and down your back, sending many small, beautiful shivers down your spine. You smile through the kiss, and when he pulls away a few millimeters it's only to come back rougher, but not before whispering something to you "You have no idea how much I just want to see you shine from now on. Act and live like the empress you are"

You were really fucked up. And you loved it.

The floral and sugary smell that could be felt in the room was gradually becoming stronger and more present. They were spraying it on the models, on their clothes, on their bags and on their accessories. Everything was now at the end and soon the most beautiful and absurd chaos ever would break out. For each model, and you could count at least 20, there were on average two or three assistants who fixed the make up or the dress. Instead, you had around you about ten assistants who for at least an hour did not let you take even a step forward. The purple dress was shining on you, and the makeup only made you more detailed according to Kristal. There were ten minutes left until the show started, and the thrills of emotion were getting stronger and stronger

You had announced on your social media account that you would be attending the show only yesterday afternoon. The media had exploded, literally exploded: the speculation of your return had just been verified as true, and the last spots of the show had already been booked by your fans. The organizers had even had to add another section of seats due to demand, and this was all because of you. Now it was just a matter of finishing the job, walking that damned catwalk and showing that you didn't give a shit about Gabriel anymore, that he had destroyed you but that you still had your life in your hands

"Two minutes, hurry up!" someone shouts, and the hands on you become even faster. You smile, because it's the only thing you know how to do, thinking that now you're really giving meaning to so many tears you've shed, that now you're really coming back, and that there's someone, an entire audience, waiting for you beyond this cloth. An audience in which you know there's also Michael, who after winning the match this afternoon has catapulted himself into the first row of seats, the closest to the catwalk and then to you

"One minute, get in line!" a woman shouts, and someone tells you how to move, putting you at the front of the line of people behind you, which now seems like at least 30. You nod at the assistants' last words of advice, which you don't really hear because you've been a professional for a few years and have learned them by heart: look straight ahead, take a firm step and the show goes on at all costs, literally all

The opening music starts. The cloth is hoisted above and a series of spotlights are projected towards you, who begins to walk straight towards the audience. The music chosen for you begins to reach your ears, and as soon as your figure is visible to the audience, the crowd erupts in a roar that you cannot describe. You smile determinedly, step controlled, emotions in order even if you literally want to scream with happiness. You are back, you are officially back on track

You walk, you show your dress, nothing you haven't done a million times, but this time it has a sweeter taste. The flashes of the photographers illuminate you, making the dark purple of the fabric respond. The crowd watches, tries to greet you, everyone at this moment has their eyes on you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, something they've never seen

"And after a break from the spotlight, the most anticipated return of the moment in the world of fashion: Y/n L/s, in a dress by German designer Ursula..." says the presenter, but you stop listening when, in the front row, you see Kaiser's face: he looks at you like the others, as if they had never seen a person like that, but with an affection that only you can understand. It's love, and you know it well. It's a reciprocated love, that you return with your eyes the moment you pass in front of him. You want to shine for everyone tonight, but most of all for yourself and for him, who gave you the push to start over

You walk until you reach the end of your shift, where you stop before the exit of the catwalk: you turn around and throw a flying kiss to the audience, who responds with such an energy that it makes you emotional, when you go back backstage. You return to the dark, and the moment of glory ends; the assistants and models still in line congratulate you, and you can only thank them gratefully. You shed a few tears, but they are of joy. You feel so damn alive right now

The show continues, the whole crowd appreciates every single dress, but especially yours. Almost an hour later you are back on the catwalk, along with all the other models after the final walk; you smile, there is someone crying but you don't blame them. You look at Michael for practically every second, and you really want to run and hug him, scream "see? I did it, I really did it!" but you know you have to wait a little longer before doing so

"...and after this speech, which I admit I made with my heart in my throat knowing the importance of this show, I would like to thank someone who is really important to me and for all the work that is behind all this" says the designer, after having concluded her speech. You look at her, curious about who she wants to name and of whom you know nothing. It is actually true, they have not yet given you the information you were talking about with Kaiser that evening

"I would like to ask the crowd to give a huge round of applause for Gabriel Dicardio!" says the woman

Gabriel. Gabriel Dicardio. Gabriel, your ex. The man who gave you the worst time of your life in the last few months and destroyed you. What the fuck is Gabriel doing here?. The boy steps onto the catwalk, waving to the crowd as he approaches the designer. They seem friendly with each other, as if they have known each other for years, so much so that he kisses her cheek as if nothing had happened: you don't remember him ever speaking to you about this woman during your relationship. You remain still, practically petrified. He knew you were here, he knew it perfectly from the beginning

"I think Ursula shouldn't thank me. The dresses are hers, great as always and each time they seem to be even more precise. Instead, I want to thank her for all her precision and the organizers of the fashion show, because they did a job without a single mistake. Being the second founder of the agency has always been close to my heart, because I know how much the fashion market here in Germany can still shine and bring great results" he says, and at the end of the sentence he turns to you, smiling at you. But you're not smiling anymore, you can't even breathe anymore since he's just a few meters away from you again

What does founder mean? Did he create this agency? Didn't he only have an Italian one?

"You shouldn't, Gabriel. In fact, it's me who's thanking you again. Rather, you know our tradition well... right? Come on, it should be even more pleasant than usual since she's there!" Ursula says laughing, and Gabriel nods "Definitely. Your tradition of always having the last photo with the guest of the evening taken with the main model of the evening... what a strange tradition, who knows who invented it" he says laughing, and your blood runs cold. You are the main model

You have to get closer to Gabriel again, and only now the feeling makes you want to throw up. Everyone pretends that there isn't a worldwide scandal going on between the two of you, as if he hadn't been throwing shit at you a few hours ago like he's been doing since this all started. You stand there, unable to move while the other models encourage you to keep going. You don't want to go on, you don't want to. You don't want to be even remotely in Gabriel's sphere of contact, to feel his hands on your body again. Petrified, you seek Kaiser's gaze, which shines with the same emotion as you: he is amazed, if not downright angry. He reflect yourself in his cerulean eyes, and you feel like you're about to have a panic attack if it's not already underway

The models push you towards Gabriel, who grabs you with one hand on your hip and the other in his pocket. The photographers start taking pictures of you together, even though you can't smile now, unlike him, who comes out perfect in the photos. A void forms inside you, eating you alive as you slowly disappear and the last part of your sanity goes away. Everyone laughs, jokes, lives. You are thinking about running away, about how disgusting his hands are on your skin and how the panic attack is becoming more and more present

"Smile. They're loving us" he whispers, while you don't even know how to move a simple arm because of the situation "Get ready, because the second act between us is about to begin"

tag(s): @rroxii ; @kittenish0 ; @bungoustraydogsno1fan (if you want to be tagged tell me!)

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nobylerdoubt · 2 months ago

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I’ve seen someone bring up the ring El’s wearing on her index finger and apparently people say it was a gift from Mike and obviously the fans interpreted it as a promise ring that he gave to her in between s3 and 4 and she’s still wearing it in season 5 and I remember pointing out Nancy having one as well and someone said that Jonathan could have gave her one as well and now idk I don’t wanna go on another doubt spiral so I want to know your take on this😭

Ok, so the foundations of the whole "promise ring" thing are so shaky in my opinion. I went through the mileven promise ring posts on here to try and get a better understanding of it, and here's what I've learned.

The original idea about the ring came from a Netflix Geeked tweet, which kind of stated it like it was a fun fact. (Go girl, give us nothing.) It simply said Mike gave El the ring between seasons 3 and 4. It was Milevens who jumped to the conclusion that it was a promise ring.

This follows a longstanding idea that some milevens have that the two are gonna get married, especially super young and in season 5. This has no in-show foundations outside of Millie Bobby Brown's interviews as a CHILD where she said the two were "basically gonna get married."

Now the idea that Nancy got a promise ring from Jonathan... I can't find the post, but the one screen still I've seen of Nancy wearing the ring comes from season 1 - one year before Nancy and Jonathan even seriously consider dating. Let alone getting married.

To me, the ring holds the same double meaning most Mileven imagery and narratives in the show. Mike gave El the ring, and while at first it may look romantic - it's actually Nancy's ring that she gave away (as she states she gave away a lot of things from her room/life in season 4.) Yet another example of what is supposedly meant to be a romantic relationship between Mike and El being compared to familial relationships.

Honestly, I think the only reason they made that distinction is because, as with all things we see in this show, every prop, every costume, and every set dressing is put there with great purpose and meeting. The designers think to themselves - what are we trying to portray about these characters. We already know a lot of her costuming in s4 was integrating her into the Byers family with similar hair, borrowed clothes etc. I think where in s3 we see El starting to explore what she likes, following Hopper's 'death' in s3 we see her try and integrate more with others and focus on the relationships she still has.

On top of that we see in season 1 that El thinks Nancy is pretty, wears Nancy's clothes, and really tries to emulate Nancy a lot. (They're never beating the sibling allegations). So I think by having El wear Nancy's ring is also an homage to season 1, and the most logical explanation for how she got it is that Mike gave it to her.

All in all I don't think we have to worry about it being tied to any storyline in season 5. If they wanted us to know about the ring, they would have talked about it/shown it in the show rather than some 'fun fact' that was tweeted by an offshoot Netflix social media account.

Look to the blue hair-tie for example - Hopper's daughter Sarah wore a blue hair tie in the flashback scenes we see of her, which then moves to Hopper's wrist, where he wears it to remember her, and eventually to El's wrist to symbolize his two daughters. Even though they never explicitly tell us this in the show, we can pick up on it and it follows a very clear storyline.

The ring just showed up in season 4. I wouldn't even have noticed it, and there is no visual trail of how the ring got to El. I think if they wanted to do something like that they would have shown Mike wearing some kind of ring or something else in s3 maybe, then El's wearing it in s4. But it's not like that - the closest in-show reference we have is to Nancy's ring in s1. So it doesn't have this visual story of going from Mike to El, or even from Nancy to Mike to El. It's just there.

#byler #stranger things #byler endgame #byler doubt

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fortune-maiden · 12 days ago

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The Hundred Line: Box of Calamity

All I'm saying is that if Kodaka really wants to create Hundred Line DLC, he should really consider a full on Gnosia/Raging Loop/Among Us style route! (Note: Spoilers for the Kill Eito Routes as well)

The Good

I think this has become one of my favorite routes outside of 1st/2nd Scenario! This route had it all! Mystery! Intrigue! Fun Character Dynamics! Comedy! ENDINGS WITH RESOLUTION!

Like Slasher, the route has fairly distinct branches depending on your choices which leads to a lot of fun divergent paths. And it really feels like a proper VN where different branches reveal different things!

(Eva Path) FINALLY EVA GETS A GOOD ROUTE! Even though she was dead for it I loved this version of Eva so much and I love that she finally got a route that gave her a good amount of exploration and actual closure! The Eva Path was my favorite in this Route, even though it's also the path that is not relevant to the SF Route. I love how we got to see a kind, caring Eva who gets to see the SDU outside of the battlefield and recognizes them as a bunch of confused kids who have no idea what they're doing. I think she's a little too lenient with them in some aspects (Eva, they killed you, and they're going to destroy your entire plant.), but I do like how even though she really isn't that much older than them she still sees herself as the adult in the situation and therefore the person who should take responsibility for them. And take responsibility she does! If you believe in her to the end, she rewards you with one of the most satisfying endings in the game (albeit a painfully rushed one ^^")

I also loved the scene where Takumi decides to tell his friends about the Futuran Village and the argument about the Undying Flame missiles that ensues. Especially how Kurara points out that even though she's against stopping the attack, this is not a discussion that should be taken lightly and shuts down any attempts to shut down the conversation. The whole thing also made be realize and wonder why the Exodus project leaders let Humanity's xenocidal champions have such normal free lives instead of having more characters like Kurara with an inclination towards militarism and extermination. It's interesting!

Also in this path, if we choose to believe Eva is a resentful ghost, we get another bizarre Casual Route type of scenario... and the treat that is Nozomi's evil laughter!

Seriously if you are not playing with the Dub audio, please look up at least this ending dubbed! It's incredible!

Meanwhile, when we choose not to take our findings to the rest of the SDU, we get a Bad Ending where Takumi is confronted with his own guilty conscience! I really love this especially because Takumi doesn't know he's in a time loop story, but depending on where the player is when they get this Route, we may already know from Hiruko that it is, and we may also have seen all the other routes where different members of the SDU are dead. I think it's fun to imagine this manifestation of Takumi's guilt isn't just from BoC, but from other routes. I remember also wondering if that could mean his version of Eva is also an amalgamation of the Eva from other routes (because she never reveals anything that we don't learn from her in those other routes), but I do prefer to think this is the real Eva especially because...

DAHL'XIA REALLY JUST RAGE QUITS ON US! This is the first route I've played where we really just had no plan for Dahl'xia (even Slasher gave us a deus ex Tsubasa!) and the only reason we survive is because Eva talks him down (even on the routes where we're not nice to her). It's absolutely hilarious! I really wish we could have at least heard what she said in the trust in Eva path ;w;

Anyway! G'ie! This is technically the route that unleashes them and I've really missed them from Slasher! They have a different vibe here, and I love Nozomi as the G'ie host because she's always the one person beneath suspicion... but I also love it because of the ending where Takumi refuses to out her! The ending where he realizes that the Nozomi he knew and loved died very shortly after Day 21, very shortly after she asked him for space because she couldn't accept his easy decision to kill Eva. At first I thought that plot point got dropped because of all the other things everyone had to worry about, but then this ending addressed it - Takumi did notice this and this is one of his biggest regrets regarding Nozomi's possession.

(It does however make the plot point's disappearance in BoB even more egregious though)

I also love how we get more Hiruko reveals about the time loop and also more Hiruko making incredibly stupid decisions! Sure just... send Kako into another timeline. That is certainly a Choice but given how many stupid decisions Hiruko makes, it's very on brand for her.

That said, if you realize which timeline she (and Eito) went to, it's fun to go look up what was happening on those days! Kako's appearance causes the Mystery/KG split, and then Eito shows up only in KG (afaik)

(Though it does also raise other questions... such as who killed Gaku. That murder was well before Kako's appearance!)

On another note, I also wonder if the Hiruko in BoC remembers the non-Goodbye Kiss branch of Slasher when she realizes that groups wouldn't work. Its' really interesting to think about which order Hiruko remembers things in (especially when she also says she doesn't remember other routes the way Takumi remembers Route 0. She just remembers snippets...)

Also speaking of Gaku, after unleashing the G'ie in Slasher, here he beats the G'ie by accident BY GOING FULL OCCULT HAM ON THEM! I am never getting over the Gaku & Takumi go all in on the occult being a required ending. I can't wait for this to come up in SF! I can't wait for Hiruko to discover this!

Also Gaku finally gets to be the Final Girl in a horror movie he was meant to be. Good for him!

For the Gnosia AU: Hiruko is Setsu, Kako is Kukrushka now xD

The Not So Good

unlike with Slasher, Multiple Eitos, and some other routes though, I feel like this Route really wants to be played in a specific order and I .... did not play in that order which I think ruined the impact of some of the reveals in it.

I feel like you're really meant to get the Kako ending first for the shock value, and for Hiruko's later reveal about Kako's disappearance to have more impact. Instead she basically tells you what happened in this route and then you play it and... it's literally exactly that. Not even something like a Hiruko's POV scenario the way we got a Nozomi POV in Slasher

(Also why does G'ie!Kako know about the Liver Mortis codes)

Similarly I feel like the reveal that the other Ghost is Takumi's guilty conscience is supposed to be one of your last endings but I also got it fairly early on which made some of the other branches with the Bad Ghost (namely the one where Hiruko also reveals your strangulation is your own doing) less impactful

I'm still a little confused how Nozomi got infected by the G'ie... It had to have happened somewhere between chasing off Kako and Kako's disappearance I guess?

SHOUMA! I know Uchikoshi did not write this route but since this Route is related to both Mystery & SF, I would imagine he still had some involvement so WHY ARE THERE TWO UCHIKOSHI ROUTES NOW WHERE SHOUMA PROCEEDS TO ACT IN WAYS THAT MAKE NO SENSE! When it was originally assumed that Shouma did the murders, I thought 'hey look a route where literal mind control is happening can make a murderer!Shouma scenario plausible' and then it was revealed that Shouma didn't commit the murders, he just knew who did and was covering it up because Reasons. Very stupid Reasons imo. I already ranted about it before so I don't really have much else to say here but I really cannot buy that Shouma's attachment to a dead-ish animal would be so strong that he could overlook literal murder!

Tsubasa, I love you, and your remote was very useful and all, BUT WHY DID YOU MAKE A REMOTE DETONATOR FOR OUR BOMBS????

Also Kako... Once again a route teases the idea of Kako being important only for her to either have an 80ish-day skip or to disappear immediately. We do have a sense of where she went at least but one of those routes didn't do much with her anyway. The other one may still have a chance though...

Speaking of... Are we going to get an answer about the Bees? Are they Adult G'ie? Are they going to appear in Mystery? I'm still so confused!

(Give my girl a route!)

On another note, back in Retsnom, I theorized that Retsnom could be related to the G'ie and how Takumi & Darumi's well meaning attempts to save their friends could result in the G'ie accidentally invading the Multi-verse. I was way off there but in this Route, that did sorta happen! Only I'm a little less satisfied about how it happened... I'm not sure how to feel about Hiruko deciding the best way to deal with her friends becoming possessed is to just... send them into another timeline... and it also doesn't explain where the G'ie came from in Slasher. Did someone just happen to open another Box there or are the G'ie in Slasher the same G'ie from BoC? (SF Route could still provide an answer here though so this is a minor quibble for now)

(Less of a minor quibble is how many dead!Eito routes are the result of timeline shenanigans from the spare!Eito routes...)

Also as much as I love the Eva path, WOW WAS THE ENDING RUSHED! Everything resolves super quickly as soon as we decide that Eva is not a resentful spirit. Suddenly! Nozomi is the mastermind and Takumi accepts her death very easily! Eva takes care of V'ehxness for us (still more satisfying than in Eva Route though)! Suddenly we can investigate the school and find a way to disable the missiles! Everything just kind of rushes to a conclusion and most heinously of all - THERE IS NO ENDING CG FOR ONE OF THE BEST ROUTES IN THE GAME!

(In general some of the Eva Path things felt very rushed and not QC'd well. I caught a number of typos and plot holes such as Takemaru knowing FB's name, mentioning that Nozomi can be revived with the Revive-O-Matic, and Takumi at one point talking to Eva directly but the dialogue treating the lines as though he was thinking the words. With a script this massive, I can accept that not everything can be caught but it's unfortunate that so many script issues were in this part specifically)

#the hundred line #hundred endings #last defense academy #thl spoilers #thllda spoilers #the hundred line: last defense academy #very fun route overall!!#these thoughts are probably more succinct since it's been more than a week since I finished the route #but i hope i still remembered the main points!#i had a lot of fun playing this one! :D

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kallie-den · 2 months ago

Text

The Subordinate Ch. 1

Olive, a mousy, workaholic middle manager with a strained relationship hires her old college bully as an assistant - and soon finds herself slipping back the abusive power dynamic they once shared

An ongoing commission I've been working on! Fair warning, this is going to be a mean one. Expect NTR, findom, and degradation of all kinks. My thanks to Brendon for commissioning the story

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon! For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get immediate, early access to everything I write - 4 pieces of hypno-smut a month, including the latest chapters of all the multi-chapter stories I write. Your support helps me keep writing and is greatly appreciated <3

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She’s so tall. She’s so much taller than me.

It’s difficult to keep that thought from filling my gaze with unwelcome awe as I stare across at her. My bully. No, my former bully. I need to remind myself of that. It’s been years. Still, I have to fight to keep my eyes narrowed with disinterested contempt, and my voice nothing more than businesslike.

“Ms. Robinson,” I say, straightening my back, “what makes you think you’d be suitable for this position?”

Ivy smiles, and her smile goes right through me. I have too many memories of being victim to that smile.

“Ms. Robinson?” she drawls. “C’mon, Olive. Is that really necessary?”

I twitch. “This is a job interview. Let’s keep things professional.”

Ivy shrugs. “Sure.”

I pause, waiting for her to answer. My patience breaks first. “Well? What makes you think you’d be suitable?”

“I think you’ll find I’m more than qualified,” comes her smooth reply.

She’s not wrong. It’s all on her résumé. For an entry-level position like this, she’s an outstanding candidate. When I was scanning through the stack of applications, that jumped out to me almost as much as her name did. Once I double-checked that it was actually her, I considered throwing her application straight into the trash. But I didn’t. I had to see her. Didn’t I?

She’s in really good shape. Way better shape than me. I bet she works out a lot.

“It’s about more than just educational background,” I retort, pushing down on that thought. “We take our work ethic very seriously here. You might be expected to work some long hours.”

Long, long hours. I can feel the heavy, gray bags hanging under my eyes. None of those on Ivy. She’s immaculate, as ever. Tonight will be another late one. I’ll have to tell Luna I won’t be home for dinner. She won’t like that, although I’m sure she’s getting used to it.

Maybe I should try harder to work less overtime. But…

“No problem,” Ivy assures me. “I work hard. You have my references?”

I do, and they’re all utterly hagiographic. Frankly, looking at it on paper, I have no reason to pass Ivy over. Looking at it otherwise, I have every reason. Christ, it’d be an HR disaster waiting to happen.

Her breasts. She’s so busty. So much bustier than me. How’s that fair? How does that even make sense? Isn’t she trans?

I push out my chest. “Well, you’d need to be a team player too. You’d be-“ I hesitate. “Ivy, you’d be working under me. For me. You get that, right?”

“Of course.” She’s unruffled.

“You understand that you’ll be my subordinate?”

For the briefest of moments, something glints in her eye. Something that frightens me. It passes. “Oh, yes. I understand perfectly.”

“And you’re… really OK with that?” I ask.

It’s difficult to believe. All through college, she took vindictive pride in having me wrapped around her little finger. I still remember how easily I fell for her. She offered me her hand in friendship whilst the clique of hyenas she kept around her barely hid their snickers. I was too stupid to realize what was going on. Too socially inept, as always, and too lonely. Too desperate for company.

Before I knew it, I was writing her assignments for her. She didn’t need that - she’s smart - but she loved that I would. When she was tired after a soccer match, she’d make me rub her feet. And most of all, she’d make me buy things for her. All her meals, drinks at the bar, new clothes… whatever she wanted. Even drugs, I think. She’s always been into that scene.

I could have stopped whenever I wanted, I guess. But not really. I wasn’t strong enough, and we both knew it. She was in my head, completely and utterly. All my buttons were hers to push. I was intoxicated with Ivy Robinson. Probably, if you’d asked, I would have called her my best friend. Even as she took me to the brink of ruin.

God, I still remember that phone call I made back home, to my parents, asking for a little more allowance. Trying to laugh, trying to play off all my spending casually. Telling them I’d been going out a lot. Socializing. Enjoying myself. Overdoing it a bit. My folks didn’t question it too much. If I had to guess, I’d say they were just grateful their quiet, sheltered, weird, nerdy little girl was having a good time in college, not keeping herself cooped up alone like I always had in high school. They were inclined to be indulgent, but that didn’t mean my heart wasn’t pounding like crazy for the entire call.

Then, after our class graduated from college, it was all just over. Like it was a nightmare I was waking up from. I don’t think my heart has ever pounded like that since. Not even with my girlfriend.

Until here. Until now.

What do I look like, to her? I’m still so small everywhere. So mousy. I’m not athletic like her. Do I look just like I used to? Can she see how much I’ve grown? Can she?

“Why wouldn’t I be OK with that?” she’s asking me. She’s smiling.

What am I supposed to say? “We have some… personal history,” I settle on eventually.

She knew she was taking advantage of me. She always knew. I have no doubt about that.

But Ivy just shrugs. “Water under the bridge,” she replies easily. “I mean, unless you’re not OK with it.”

My heartbeat quickens even more. It’s an offhand comment, but I hear in it something more. A challenge: can I handle her?

Of course I can. All of that was ten years ago now. I’m a grown woman. I have a senior position here. I’m in charge.

“Don’t be silly,” I tell her, and smile. I feel good about being able to say it like that.

“Great!” Ivy beams back at me. “Do you have any more questions for me?”

“I don’t think so,” I reply, checking my notes. “Do you have any questions for us?”

She dials the job-winning smile up another notch. “Just one: when can I start?”

She’s so pretty. God, she’s so pretty. So much prettier than me.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I say stiffly. “There are many other candidates under consideration.”

But none of them are going to stick in my mind like Ivy does. I definitely shouldn’t hire her; that goes without saying. It’s just that there’s genuinely nobody more qualified, and that means if I don’t, I won’t be able to shake the feeling that it was because I’m afraid of her.

I’m not, I tell myself. That would be ridiculous. I know that, but I need to make sure Ivy knows it too.

Anyway, maybe I can take pleasure in it. In having her under my thumb for a change. Bossing her around. Treating her like shit. Making her fetch me coffee. Making her days long and miserable.

Yeah. That doesn’t sound too bad at all. It’s kind of embarrassing how good it sounds, actually. The thought fills me with a girlish thrill I haven’t known since college.

I stand up and offer Ivy my hand. “Well, in any case, you’ll hear from us soon.”

She nods, rises, smiles politely, and takes my hand. And as we shake, she has this look in her eyes like she already knows what I’ve decided.

***

It’s little surprise to me when, after just a few weeks, Ivy is the office darling. The queen bee. She’s still an assistant, nominally, but you wouldn’t think it from the way they all treat her. None of it challenges professional boundaries, of course. It’s simply that they like her, and they want her to like them.

How could they not? Ivy’s so striking. She’s tall, and the contrast between her dark skin and her platinum-bleached hair makes a statement of her confidence. And she dresses so well - never flashy, just magnificently stylish, in clothes that make little secret of her perfectly-maintained body. It makes me embarrassed of the way I dress each morning, grabbing one of my rote outfits from the closet as I hastily brush my mid-length, plain, brown hair into some semblance of neatness.

Her presence and her popularity itch at me. I was never outgoing in the first place, but now, more and more, I find myself retreating to my little corner office. When the door’s shut, nobody disturbs me. One of the privileges of being a manager. It’s like my little fortress. While I’m in here, I don’t have to think about Ivy. I don’t have to think about the contrast between us; about how damn boring my life is, while she’s chattering about weekend plans, or about how nobody looks adoringly at me the way they do at her. All I have to do in here is work.

And work. And work, and work, and work. More than ever. The company keeps asking for overtime - it’s a crunch period - and I say ‘yes’ more often than ‘no’, even though Luna wishes I wouldn’t. I’ve always been like this, a little. Working is one of the few things in life I’m truly good at. It’s nice to feel like I have a place. A purpose. An identity. Finding the right balance with that has always been a struggle, but Ivy being here has made it worse. I’m not exactly sure why. It’s not career ambition. I think maybe I’m trying to show her up, in a way. Prove I’m more hard-working. Come in earlier, stay later. Impress her with my dedication.

Not a good way to try and show her up, obviously. Out of sight in my office, behind a door. Just the only way I’ve got.

Anyway, it’s not all bad. There are small pleasures to having Ivy Robinson working as an assistant in my office. She’s polite. Deferential, even. She has to be. When I ask her to do things, I get to hear her say ‘Yes, Ms. Barnes’ in that coffee-smooth voice of hers, and it sends shivers down my spine. It makes me fantasize. And there’s such a thrill to the little ritual that plays out each morning, when she knocks at my door and waits to be told to enter so she can set down my coffee on my desk. That’s always the moment I’m glad I hired her. Ivy Robinson, my subordinate.

There’s that HR disaster waiting to happen.

We don’t talk much, outside of functional little work exchanges. It makes sense; I’m no conversationalist. Not until one evening, when she cracks open my door to tell me she’s going home. She catches me at the worst time, mid-phone call to my girlfriend.

“Again? Olive, you said you were almost done with this…”

“I know, I know. We were… are. Just… not quite yet.”

“They work you too hard, I swear.” A little laugh, mostly to conceal the fact that it’s not ‘them’ she’s unhappy with.

“Sorry, Luna,” I offer eventually.

“It’s OK. You… gotta do what you gotta do, right?”

“Yeah.”

“We should really do something romantic soon. Something intimate. It’s… it’s been a while.” It sounds like more of an ultimatum than she means it to. “I miss you.”

“We will,” I offer quickly. “Promise. I miss you too. All this will be over soon. I’m just… well, it’s a busy time of year.”

“Right.” Another pause. “Well, take care, OK?”

“You too.” I hesitate. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

She hangs up. I sigh - and then see who’s standing in my doorway. I freeze. I wonder how much she overheard.

“I was just about to head home,” Ivy says, entirely professionally. “Working late again, Ms. Barnes?”

“Yeah,” I reply, and end up yawning my way through the word, embarrassingly.

“Oh no.” Ivy frowns. “You work too hard, Olive.”

I’m instantly suspicious, but she sounds so genuine in her sympathy. It seduces me. “I know, I know. I really do.”

“Everyone’s always talking about it.” Now it’s more than an exchange. It’s a conversation. Ivy takes a step into my office. Into my territory. “You’re the most dedicated worker here!”

My heart skips a beat. Is that respect I hear in her voice? Is Ivy Robinson impressed with me? I dare to hope. “Well, I… the higher-ups are depending on me. You know how it is.”

“Of course.” Ivy carefully closes the door behind her. “It’s what I expected, when I started working here! I remember you telling me about that. I was pretty surprised when it turned out to be just another email job.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I just mean… sure, they always put out those calls for overtime,” Ivy says casually, stepping over toward my desk. “But it’s not like they’re compulsory. Hardly anyone takes them up, except you.”

“Maybe everybody else should start considering it,” I tell her tersely.

“Point taken,” she admits with a laugh. “It just makes me wonder why, you know?”

“I’m a team player, Ivy. A hard worker.” I fold my arms. I can’t resist taking a jab. “Maybe that’s why you’re out there on the floor, and I’m in here with the nice office.”

It doesn’t seem to land. Ivy ignores it. “A hard worker,” she mulls. “A team player. Yeah. Absolutely. Takes me back to college. All those long nights you spent out in the library.”

Doing Ivy’s assignments. That part remains unsaid. I start trembling. It’s been ten years, but suddenly it doesn’t feel like it at all.

“Is this import-“

I start to rebuke her, but then she perches on the edge of my desk, and in doing so, knocks over my stationary. Shifts a few papers, too. She lets out a little ‘oops’, but the look on her face says it’s no big deal.

But it is. At once, it starts to itch at me. My desk is painstakingly arranged. Every paper, every pen, every computer peripheral in its place. It’s how I like it. How I need it. And now it’s all wrong. Everything scattered and strewn. Pencils rolling haphazardly around.

It’s no big deal - not to her, and I wish it wasn’t to me either. I’m instantly upset by the unfairness of it. Why does it have to throw me off this bad?

“Honestly,” Ivy drawls, “it’s like you can’t help yourself! You’re not saving up for something big, are you?”

“No,” I blurt out in reply, before I can stop myself indulging her. Her presence is overbearing. Perched on my desk, she looms over me.

An apology is on the tip of my tongue. Why? Why do I want to say sorry? What would I even be apologizing for? For… myself?

“Didn’t think so,” she says. Her amusement is plain. “Wild. It made sense back then. I mean, it’s not like you had anything else to make time for, right? But now you have a girlfriend waiting for you at home. That’s a little sad, Olive.”

“This… this is inappropriate,” I tell her quietly, just barely managing to keep my voice measured. Even saying that is a gargantuan effort. Ivy’s attention is so potent. I can’t quite hate it, even when it’s too much, and her slight but palpable mockery is all it takes to make my head spin.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Ivy laughs and holds up her hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful! Thanks to you pulling these crazy hours, the rest of us get to go home nice and early. You’re doing me a favor.”

“I am?” I squeak. “R-right.”

I didn’t think about it like that. But now I certainly am, and I know instantly I won’t be able to think of it any other way. Why did she have to put it like that? Why did she have to ruin it all for me?

Oh no. It’s happening again, isn’t it? It’s just like before. Nothing’s changed.

“Which, I mean, again, just like college,” Ivy remarks. She smiles. I twitch. I’m trying to marshal my thoughts, but it’s so hard. “Hey, why don’t we go out again sometime? It’ll be like old times. You clearly need to blow off some steam. Maybe spend some of all this overtime pay on some drinks and-“

“Ms. Robinson!” I yell abruptly, bolting to my feet. Ivy looks startled. I’m startled too; I didn’t mean to get angry like this. “This is inappropriate!”

I was this close to saying ‘yes’ to her. That’s what spurred me into action. That old instinct is rusty, perhaps, but it’s still there, oh yes, and everything Ivy said was helping to grease it up. I couldn’t take another word out of her. I’d break.

But that would be unbearable. It would make me the worst, irrecoverably. I’d never be able to forgive myself, and all the anger I’ve ever felt toward Ivy Robinson rose like a tide to save me.

Watching Ivy jump up and flinch back is like a red rag to a bull. I have to give everything not to let it all flow out of me. Everything I’ve been bottling up all these years. That little hint of fear in her face is the ultimate intoxicant. The only way I can keep control is by promising myself that there’s still more satisfaction to be found in holding the high ground.

“I am your superior,” I tell her sternly. I’ll make her listen. “You are my subordinate. I suggest you take that under consideration when you decide how to speak to me.”

“Woah.” Ivy throws up her hands. There’s still a kind of smirk on her face. I want to wipe it off. “It’s just a little reminiscing, that’s all! I didn’t mean anything by-“

“Enough!” I snap. “Yes, Ivy, you did. We both know it. Well, guess what? This isn’t college anymore. Grow up. I have.”

There’s a sudden, terrible darkening of Ivy’s face. It cuts through my anger. I’ve seen that look before. It’s the one she gets whenever she hears ‘no’.

“Be careful, Olive,” Ivy warns, her voice low, silky. “Why don’t you lower your voice? You wouldn’t want anyone to overhear us, would you?”

She’s wrong. I don’t care. Let them all hear. I want them to hear this bully getting put in her place. “That’s Ms. Barnes to you, Ivy. And if I have to remind you again, you’ll be looking for another job.”

Ivy stares daggers at me. I’m terrible with eye contact, but just this once, I push myself to my limit. I stare back at her, even though it makes me twitch a little.

When she blinks, I feel like a god.

“Of course.” Ivy nods her head submissively. “I’m sorry, Ms. Barnes.”

I want to smile and cheer and rub it in her face. Instead, I just keep staring. “Now get out.”

With that, I’m treated to the sight of the tall, busty, muscular, beautiful Ivy Robinson turning her back and fleeing out of my office. I can all but see the tail between her legs. Once she closes the door behind her, like she knows I want, the smile comes to my face. No, more than just a smile. A giddy, stupid, girlish grin I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. My hands are shaking up and down, overcome with the energy of the moment. I can’t stand still.

I did it. I beat her. I won.

Nothing could be more vindicating. Suddenly every single decision that led me here feels like the thread of destiny. It’s perfect. All of it.

And its glow keeps me warm even as I sit back down, fix my desk, and prepare myself for the long, lonely night ahead.

By the next morning, the glow has faded and curdled into trepidation. I have to see Ivy again. My rattled nerves tell me that she’ll have found some way to rally herself. To turn the tables once more, in the little psychological war between us. I’m far from best prepared for it. In the end, I crawled home for barely six hours of meager sleep. I barely got to speak to Luna.

When Ivy does make her appearance - not early, but certainly not late - my fears are banished. She’s dressed a touch more modestly than usual - black slacks, a plain blouse that buttons up very high - and she knocks on my door so meekly I don’t realize it’s her at first.

“Good morning, Ms. Barnes,” she says politely. “Your morning coffee.”

“Thank you.”

My eyes widen slightly as she sets it carefully down on the corner of my desk. It’s not the usual stuff from the shitty machine in the break room. I don’t recognize the cup, but the aroma tells me that it’s good. Pricey, I have to imagine.

“I thought you deserved something a bit nicer than instant,” Ivy says in answer to my questioning look. “Since you’ve been working so hard.”

Nothing on earth could keep my face from lighting up. At once, I get it: this is a peace offering. No, better. It’s tribute. She wants to get on my good side.

And why shouldn’t she? I’m Ivy’s boss. I gave her this job, and I can take it away. She’s in the palm of my hand. My hand. After all this time. Fuck, it feels better than I’d ever imagined.

Ivy’s watching me expectantly, and I don’t even mind that she’s seeing me with such a stupid, goofy grin on my face. Like I’m a kid opening her birthday presents while all her friends have to sit at the table and watch. Her watching is fine by me. I want to savor the moment, and I want her to marinate in it. So, I reach for the cup and drink. I hope Ivy will look relieved when she sees I’m enjoying it.

The flavor is wrong. It doesn’t match the aroma. The coffee is pleasant, but chasing on its heels is an aftertaste that’s faintly but unpleasantly chemical. Some kind of artificial sweetener? There’s no way it’s deliberate. If Ivy Robinson is lowering herself to bringing me a shitty cup of coffee as petty revenge, I’ve won by even more than I’d thought. Maybe it’s an acquired taste. In any case, it’s not that bad, and I really do need the caffeine. I drink more.

“How do you like it?” Ivy asks after a moment.

“It’s good,” I reply at first, reflexively, but the chemical taste is sticking in my mouth. I frown. Maybe I should just send her to get something from the machine. “It’s a bit…”

I look down at the cup and see two of them.

Two… cups?

No.

Double vision?

Why does it take me so long to think of that?

I’m so slow.

But then Ivy steps up to my desk, and she’s not slow at all. She’s quick and pretty and tall, taller than ever, and strong, and I can’t tell if there’s two of her, or five, or a dozen, or a hundred.

“Drink up, Olive,” she instructs.

And I do. I don’t want to, but I do. Ivy’s command is a weight on my back, one so much greater than I can bear. I sink to it. I bring the cup to my lips, slowly and clumsily, and slurp more of the coffee.

“Why does it taste like that?” I ask absently.

Why did I ask something so stupid?

There are a dozen more pressing questions I should be asking, but when I reach out for one, it slips through my fingers. Only the dull chemical taste in my mouth remains.

Stupid.

All the same, I look blearily up at Ivy for an explanation.

“Because it’s drugged,” Ivy tells me. “I put something in it on the way here. Something I got from a friend of a friend. I don’t think it has a street name yet. But it’s very strong.”

It’s… strong?

No, wait.

That’s not the important part.

But it’s so hard to tell, when everyone she’s saying is twinned too.

Echoing itself. Layering. Obliterating all sense.

“D… drugged?” I manage. The words ooze from my mouth.

I say them before I even remember what that means.

“Yeah.” Ivy is standing right next to me now. Above me. I look up, and the ceiling light behind her head forms a halo. It hurts to look at. “More specifically, you’re being put in a nice, calm, suggestible state. People have been using this to relax, but I have my own ideas about the kind of fun we can have with it.”

“Fun…” I echo dumbly. “R-relax?”

I smile, at first. That sounds nice.

Then I pull Ivy’s words apart, and the rest catches up with me.

“Sug… suggestible?” It takes two tries. The first time, my mouth ends up mangling the word. It’s like I’m drunk.

“That’s right. You know what that means, don’t you?” Condescension drips like overflowing venom from Ivy’s perfect lips. Yesterday, that would have made me angry. Today, it just makes me feel small. “It’s like… it’s like your mind is the kind of foam that holds its shape perfectly when you press into it. You know?”

Like… foam? I’m like foam?

I shake my head. Analogies are beyond me now.

Why? Why am I so stupid?

It must be the coffee. The drug.

That’s right. I’m drugged. Ivy drugged me. I almost forgot.

She laughs at my plight. “Don’t worry about it,” she says. That’s all it takes to quiet my mind. I can’t go against her. “You’ll see, soon enough. See, we need to have a little chat, Olive.”

I’m drugged. That thought is finally starting to stick.

That’s bad, right?

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the door. It’s closed. Ivy must have closed it.

Is anyone coming to help me?

No. No way.

I could call out. Couldn’t I?

No. I can’t muster the will.

“I did a lot of thinking after I went home last night,” Ivy explains. Her voice isn’t loud, but it feels loud. Inside my head, it’s a cavernous, deafening sound. “About what we were talking about, Olive. Until you cut me off. That was very rude of you. Very rude.”

She says that with singular emphasis - and it hits me like a wave.

Rude. Very rude.

I cringe at myself as that conviction takes form.

I was rude. I shouldn’t be rude.

My wet lips shiver as they strain to form an apology. Ivy’s curl upwards. She can see the effect she’s having on me.

“All I was really getting at was: where’s the fun in your life, Olive?” Ivy asks. “The joy? The spark? When I took this job, I was curious to see how you’d turned out. But what’s there to see? You overwork yourself, day after day, in here, at this boring office job. You barely talk to anyone. You have a girlfriend at home that you barely see. I’d have guessed a lot of things for you, but not that you’d wind up this pathetic.”

I cringe and shrink back. Not from her words; no, when she speaks quickly like that, it’s all just meaningless sound.

I shrink from her tone. That serrated contempt that bites deep into me. I have no defense against it. My ego has been broken open. Ivy is pouring into it.

Her last word, though. That resounds.

Pathetic.

I whimper. Pathetic. It’s what I am.

“At first, I was confused,” Ivy goes on. “What makes you live like this, Olive? What makes you tick? But then I figured it out.”

I’m gasping like a fish.

She figured it out.

Figured… what?

Me?

Suddenly, it’s like I’m barely here. Like I have no substance at all. Ivy can see right through me.

“Oh, don’t look so scared,” Ivy admonishes. “I’m gonna help you out. We’re old friends, right? And that’s just what friends do.”

Friends. Yes.

I relax. We’re friends.

And she’ll… help? That’s so kind.

I soften. I exhale. The part of me that would normally see how insincere Ivy is has been smothered by her drug. Instead, I’m filled with naive, childlike gratitude.

Oh. That’s right. I’ve been drugged. She drugged me. I almost forgot.

“Thank you, Ivy,” I sigh fondly.

She laughs a little at that. “First things first,” Ivy says, fixing her gaze on me. “Let’s get something very important straight: I am superior to you, Olive.”

Her pronouncement is slow. Deliberate. She’s letting me drink in every word. Letting me absorb their meaning. Stew in their tremendous force.

Superior?

I feel it. Right away. Superior. Inferior. Just look at us. Look at her. So pretty, so tall, so strong. It’s only natural.

It certainly comes naturally to me.

“Y-you’re…” I babble. “S-superior?”

Ivy repeats it. Her words are like nails into my skull. “I am superior to you.”

Superior.

What does that mean?

It’s like something someone would say as a joke. But Ivy isn’t joking. And since she’s so completely and utterly sincere, my mind starts grappling with the task of absorbing her words as my new truth.

Superior. It’s such a big word. So encapsulating. My mind starts to race with the implications.

It’s one thing for someone to be better than you at something, or higher up in the company, or something like that. But superior? That’s something greater. It transcends any particulars. She is simply superior, and I am simply inferior. That’s a fixed point in our lives now. A guiding star. Something I can always look to. Something I can always know.

That way of thinking comes so easily for me. It’s not just the drug. It’s the fact that it’s just like riding a bicycle. It’s an old groove, easy to find once more, despite all the intervening years.

Superior. Inferior.

But then I learn that I’m not defenseless. Not quite. There it is again. That anger. It might not be enough to throw off the drug, but it proves to be enough to pierce the soporific veil it’s put over me. At least for a moment.

I can’t go back to that. To being inferior. I can’t.

“N-no,” I bleat. “I’m n-not.”

Ivy raises an eyebrow. “You’re not? Not what?”

“Not…” my voice trembles. Fighting her is so hard. “N-not inferior.”

Ivy laughs again, this time incredulously. Like my defiance impresses her. But she refuses me even a moment of indulgence.

“Olive,” she sings, “look at me, babe.”

I can’t resist two thoughts at once, so I look right at her, as close as I dare. Long practice has taught me how to fix my gaze just below someone’s eyes, sparing me direct contact.

“No, no, no,” Ivy chides. “Look at me. Properly.”

All of a sudden, her hand is on my chin. She grips it mercilessly. Her strength feels infinite as, between that and her words, she compels me to look directly into her eyes.

I start twitching. I’m not good with this. I’m really not good with this. And she knows it.

“You see?” Ivy coos, and her words are as soft as silk, threads pulling tight around me. “You can’t even look me in the eye. Can you?”

I can’t.

She relaxes her grip enough to let me shake my head. Maybe she makes me shake it. I can’t tell.

“Can’t even look a woman like me in the eye,” Ivy mocks. “How can you say you’re not inferior?”

How can I?

I…

Can’t. The words won’t come.

Her simple, brute demonstration has crushed whatever flickering spark of resistance had briefly flared. I could summon it again, but then I’d have to keep looking. I can’t handle that. It’s already unbearable. Her eyes are too sharp. They pierce me too deep.

“You can’t,” Ivy tells me. It’s a fact. More true than ever, now that it’s passed her lips. “Say it.”

“I can’t,” I repeat dully.

She rolls her eyes. “Not that, idiot. That I’m superior.”

“Oh.” My head spins briefly as I reel from my mistake. I’m an idiot. “You’re superior.”

She’s superior.

Instantly, it’s worse

Ivy was already taller, but now she towers over me. She was already hotter and stronger, but now she’s a goddess. The light behind her head was already bright; now it’s blinding, and it’s inside her, in her eyes and pouring out of her mouth as she speaks.

I’m lost to it.

“And…” she prompts, waiting for me to make the connection, before she realizes I’m way too fucked up for that. “You’re inferior.”

I nod. Even I can figure that out.

“I’m inferior,” I echo.

I am. It’s true.

I’m inferior.

Within an instant, that’s etched into every fiber of my being. Only, wasn’t it already? Wasn’t it always? When Ivy tells me that, it’s like connecting the last bit of a circuit. The Christmas tree inside me is lighting up.

Yes. I’m inferior.

And it’s so… comfortable.

How many times have I said that to myself over the years, inside my head or at the mirror? But now it’s more real than ever. Now there’s no doubt about it.

I’m inferior.

I’m inferior to Ivy Robinson.

She’s the one who puts me in my place.

“I’m taller,” Ivy pronounces slowly. Heavily. Letting each quality sink in. “Stronger. Hotter. Smarter. More confident. More sociable. More competent. More dominant. Superior.”

They build and build. My eyes widen, even though it hurts. They’re full of awe.

Stronger. Hotter. Smarter. Superior.

“Yes,” I whimper, because what else can do I for such a superior woman but agree? “Yes.”

“I’m so glad you get it.” Ivy releases me and turns away. Finally, I can breathe a little easier. Facing her is like being in the eye of the storm. I blink my eyes, grateful - pathetically grateful - for the respite. “Because that’s the key, really. To everything about you.”

That’s the key?

What is?

I don’t understand. It must be because I’m so inferior.

So stupid.

But that’s OK. I know Ivy will enlighten me.

“It’s like…” she pauses, considering, surely, how best to dumb down the concept for someone like me. “It’s like how, at a sports game, there are players and there are spectators. Both of them are having fun, but only players get to do. Spectators just get to watch. That’s you, Olive. You’re a spectator.”

Naturally, I nod. My mind is like the desert soil. Cracked, dry, parched. Eager to drink deep of whatever it’s fed. I absorb it all.

A spectator.

I just get to watch.

That’s right. That makes sense. I’m inferior, after all.

It hurts too, of course. What Ivy tells me digs into a wound that, in a way, has always been open. Since college, since high school, since before. But that doesn’t mean I’m resisting. My resistance has already been broken.

“That’s how you were in college, after all,” Ivy goes on. “My little spectator. Always watching. Always hanging on. Living vicariously, through me - because that’s simply the best you can do. That was exactly where you belonged.”

Exactly where I belonged.

I’m caught up in the terrible flow of her words now. It’s getting easier to follow, as my fragile self-esteem buckles and bends to Ivy’s will.

It’s where I belonged. Her spectator.

The notion feels so poisonously right. Didn’t I always enjoy it, a little? Ivy bullied me, yes, but there was a certain pleasure in being her hanger-on. I loved the little kiss of glamor it gave me. Made me seem progressive, too. And like there was more to me than just being some bookish, anti-social nerd.

I can’t tell if that’s the drug talking, or just me.

But if it wasn’t true before, it is now. My memories are already softening in their haste to conform to Ivy’s decrees. In my mind’s eye, those college days are already turning rosy and warm as a sickly kind of comfort colors them.

Yes, it was a shame that I couldn’t be a player. Couldn’t be like Ivy.

But at least she let me watch.

It’s where I belonged.

“Poor thing.” The faux-sympathy in Ivy’s voice makes me feel smaller still. “You’ve been lost without me, haven’t you? But don’t worry. I’m here now. I’ll give you something to latch on to.”

To latch on to.

It makes sense. That’s just what I need. A spectator like me. I need to live through Ivy.

I’m so grateful.

“I’m going to help you enjoy life,” Ivy drawls. Her face twists gleefully. “But I’m going to do it by taking away everything you have. Everything you’re too pathetic to enjoy properly by yourself. And you’re going to thank me for it.”

“Thank you,” I whisper at once.

Of course I’ll thank her.

I’d do anything for Ivy. My thanks are the least I have to give.

There’s a pit in my stomach, put there by insult piled atop insult, but a growing sense of anticipation takes the edge off the pain. I can’t wait for what Ivy’s going to do.

“Let me see.” Ivy glances around my office. She’s wondering where to start. “I wonder how many nights you spend in here. Working hard, when you could be doing anything else instead - if you weren’t such a loser. It sounds miserable. But I guess you must have a little fun when nobody else is watching, right?”

I must?

I frown, confused. I want to say yes, to please her, but my sluggish mind can’t grasp what she’s referring to.

“Oh, you know.” Ivy laughs at my baffled look. “I can just picture you sitting behind your desk, late at night, hand shoved down your boring panties.”

Shoved down my panties?

What does that mean?

Once it hits me, I blush deep. I really do want to agree with her, but telling the truth to my superior seems more important.

“N-no!” I pant. “I… never… I couldn’t!”

Ivy snorts mockingly. “Guess a private office is wasted on you, then. Time to start, Olive. Right now.”

"W-what?”

My blush deepens as I’m stained through with shame at the very thought, but that doesn’t stop my hand from twitching downward, guided by Ivy’s command. She is utterly in control of me.

“Go on,” Ivy urges. “Do it. Touch yourself.”

The way she looks at me is at once lurid and dispassionate. It’s the way you’d stare at a particularly interesting bug before you swat it away. Those eyes leave me no room to squirm out of this. Already, my hands are fumbling clumsily with the hem of my pants.

But it doesn’t make sense.

There’s something missing.

“But…” I’m not so much protesting as questioning. “But, what…”

That’s it. I’m not aroused. That’s why this is so strange.

Ivy senses it at once. And she grins at me as she says: “Just look at me.”

It’s simultaneously a command and an explanation. She wants me to look at her, and so I do. But my chemically-shattered brain takes it another way.

Look at her.

Ivy is pretty. Hot. Tall. Strong. Superior.

No wonder I’m touching myself.

Now the arousal comes. I find that I’m wet and desperately sensitive. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any gratification in that department. Longer than I’d care to admit. Sex just isn’t a big part of my life. I’ve never had much of a sex drive.

But I sure do now.

Within moments, I’m frantically rubbing at myself, letting out choked gasps of pleasure as my back arches. Maybe it’s the drug. Maybe that’s why this is so intense.

Or maybe it’s just her.

I’m looking at Ivy the way I’ve never looked at another woman before, with the shameless, rabid gaze of a pervert. My bulging, bloodshot eyes flick back and forth across her body, seeking out details to make the object of my lust.

Her tits. Her waist. Her ass. Her face, her lips, her tongue. Her legs. Even her height, her strength, her makeup. All of it dazzles me. All of it arouses me like nothing ever has. I can feel the rabid heat Ivy’s inflicted on me dumbing me down. Making my thoughts lewd and coarse. Warping me to fit her shape.

“See?” Ivy says casually. “This is what I do to you.”

This is what she does to me.

That makes sense, doesn’t it? She’s so superior to me. Every part of her I look at isn’t just a source of arousal. It’s a point of comparison. And everywhere, I come up short.

It’s a double-edged sword. But the gnawing insecurity just spurs me on.

This is right. This is how I belong. A spectator. Inferior.

“Yeah.” Ivy sighs fondly. Pleased with her handiwork. “This is so you, Olive. Locked up in your office, getting yourself off under your desk, while everyone else is out having fun. I bet you do it all the time.”

I don’t - but I do now. Her words make it a part of my being.

I nod furiously.

“You know, there’s something else about this drug I should probably mention,” Ivy adds. “It makes it very, very easy to form psychological connections. To make sure your wires get crossed, so to speak. Especially when there’s a source of pleasure involved.”

Now that I’m busy fucking myself stupid, it takes me even longer to process that. Once I do, I realize the danger. I should stop. Right now.

I can’t.

She hasn’t told me to stop.

It feels too good.

“I’m actually priming you for it just by telling you that,” Ivy throws out. “And with that in mind, since we’ve established that you can’t get any real use out of all that overtime pay you’re earning, let’s give you a new way to enjoy it.”

Ivy reaches for my phone, set down on my desk. She holds it up to my face, letting the recognition software unlock it. She starts scrolling through apps. She finds what she’s looking for. She’s tapping the screen. Typing.

I don’t stop her. I don’t even consider it. This is my place. Watching. A woman like Ivy can do whatever she wants.

“Here.” After a moment, Ivy shows me my phone with a flourish. “This is what you’re going to do.”

It takes a long moment for my eyes to focus on the screen, especially with my fingers still in my cunt. Once they do, I see that it’s my payment app and that Ivy has set up a transaction from my account to hers. To send her my money.

And the sum is eye-watering. In the hundreds.

Disobeying Ivy is unthinkable, but going through with this is just as impossible to conceive of. How many hours of hard, boring, thankless work does that sum of money represent? Admittedly, it’s not set aside for anything in particular, but seeing my bank balance grow and grow has always been a source of satisfaction. It’s made it all make sense - all my hard work, all the overtime.

If I just give it to Ivy, just because she tells me to, then what was it all for?

“Don’t worry,” she promises. “I’ll spend it better than you could.”

I shiver.

That’s right. She’ll spend it better.

She’s superior.

“And this is just the first installment,” Ivy adds. “You’re going to start putting in even more overtime from now on.” She licks her lips. “Go ahead. Press it.”

The app needs my touch to authenticate the transaction. My fingerprint. A security measure. My free hand is already reaching out, helpless to fight Ivy’s superior will.

My other hand is, of course, still buried between my legs. Any protests I might hope to make, any questions I might hope to ask, all of them dissolve into pathetic moaning. The yawning anxiety I feel about giving Ivy all my money melds with my arousal, becoming something greater than either individual emotion. Something sharp-edged that bites deep into my psyche, making my heart pound and pump me full of adrenaline. Something that fills me with a thrill I haven’t known since college.

To my drug-addled mind, it’s confirmation.

Ivy, my new god, is in her heaven. All is right with the world.

And so I smile as I reach out and press my quivering fingertip to the touchscreen.

In an instant, the transaction is done. It cannot be undone. All that money, gone. Given. Tributed.

To her. To Ivy.

My stomach drops. I feel like I’m in freefall. The pleasure has never been greater. My fingers are furious as they plunge in and out of my cunt. When I look at Ivy, I see stars.

Ivy checks the phone screen and grins. I can already see that this isn’t satisfaction, for her. It’s not the end. This is just the beginning. Then she looks at me and spits the command that seals my fate, searing my newly-formed fetish for financial domination into my every brain cell.

“Cum.”

—

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

Artemis, Chloe, J, GrillFan65, Morriel, Dasterin, Dex, orangesya, Joanna, dmtph, Ember, MegatronTarantulas, NewtypeWoman, Madeline, BTYOR, Sarah, Mattilda, Emile Queen of sloths, jlc, Neana, Flluffie, Art, Jackson, Abigail, Ashe, Hypnogirl_Stephanie_, Jade, mintyasleep, VariableGear, Michael, Tasteful Ardour, Dennis, SkinnyQP, Full Blown Marxism, Morder, S, Brendon, Jim, Bouncyrou, Erin, HannahSolaria, Cristopher, hellenberg, Miss_Praxis, Violet, Noct, Charlotte, Faun, B, Foridin, Zhennyfyr, EepyTimeTea, Devi, dylan, Phoenix, IvyLeather, Jim, Sebastian, Joseph, Cryocrspy, Thomas, Liz, Ash, melicious, naivetynkohan, Daedalus Fall, [LOST.WOLF], Ada, Basic dev, SuperJellyFrogEx, Katie, Lily, Alphy D, Mal, Cusco, Nimapode, UNIT_03, GladiusLumin, Alan, Geckonator, Anonymous, The Moth Court, Michael, Thomas, Yodasgirl, Astral Gen, ravenfan, prolekvlt, Djuran, Jakitron, HazelPup, Ana, DOLLICIOUS, likenyah, Griffin, ferretfyre, Latavia, KBZ, Jessa, 41666, Haggisllama, Calamity, Thomas, naughtzero, Aletheia, a pelican, soda girl kate, Rami Hound, Junefox, Brainy, Abigal, Motoyuuri, Valmire, Ambition, Evelyn M, personalityPersonified, Bryn, Anjou, Olivia, Jotunn, Samantha, Kait_Storm, HazelDuck, LunarLambda, Malu, Fern, official video gaming, FluffiestTail, Ollie, incrypt, Vivid, April, Benjo, nidee, Marika, Abricot, Nicholas, Nette, cob, patience, magnolia, leaf, val, Veronica, Lexi, Keith, Azunise, sable, Friday, RaspberryWolf, CmderJeremy, Evelynn, A Needy Bunny, Rhiannon, Roxie

Special thanks to Brendon for commissioning this story

#story #Subordinate

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fandom-susceptible · 5 months ago

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Ghosting

So I've been thinking about the lore of Ghosting in The Dragon Prince a lot, and so here's what we know from canon:

Ghosting is the ultimate punishment in Moonshadow elf society, worse even than death, and is taken very, very seriously

Moonshadow elves who abandon their own or shirk their duty are candidates to be Ghosted

The Ghost Spell is cast at a place called the Well of the Forgotten by a Keeper, but the entire village that was wronged by the ghost must democratically cast a vote. Only if the vote is a unanimous yes is the candidate actually ghosted. (source: https://creators.spotify.com/pod/show/hot-brown-morning-potion/episodes/Episode-5---The-Deluxe-Elf-Interview-with-Devon-Giehl-and-Iain-Hendry-e9nllr)

Ghosts can enter the Silvergrove and presumably other Moonshadow settlements as well, but are invisible without use of some sort of aid (the reflection in a blade made by a moon mage, a moon pool, another spell). People in their village will appear faceless to them. They cannot hear their people's voices nor can they be heard. They are effectively banished. (Season 3, Episode 3, "Ghost)

There aren't many Ghosts, but enough have been Ghosted in the past 15 years to have crossed paths with each other and have noted trends amongst them. once Ghosted, the trend is the Ghost also considers their Moonshadow life to be dead, and takes a new name as a result. (Chasing Shadows - Part 1)

Even one voice gone unheard is enough to justify revisiting the decision to Ghost someone. The Moonshadow connection to death itself plays a role in this, in summoning the spirit of those that may have died as a result of the actions of the Ghost, for them to decide if the Ghost is worthy of forgiveness. The trick of it is that once again, even one dissenting voice from those directly wronged is enough to make certain the Ghost - and whoever vouched for them - is banished forever (Season 7, episode 4, "Unfinished Business").

So . . . from this and some of the other details we have about Moonshadow elves, we can extrapolate some pretty interesting things about their culture.

Zubeia notes in the short story "All Storms End" that Moonshadow elves live in tribes in the forest. Bloodmoon Huntress informs us that the stories humans tell about elves being bloodthirsty monsters that eat people are stories that are also told in Xadia, about Moonshadow elves in general. The same stories are told by Moonshadow elves about a specific elf - the Bloodmoon Huntress. All of these impressions coming with the grain of truth; the huntress was real and once led a cult of Moonshadow elves that drank blood and ate people during the reign of Luna Tenebris as Queen of the Dragons. This cult persisted for perhaps centuries before drawing the attention of Avizandum and Queen Aditi, who set about eradicating it.

Now, given that other elves tell the story as though all moonshadow elves are guilty of the Cult's crimes into the modern day, it seems unlikely that the stereotype wasn't in effect when the Cult was actually active. Which means the Sunfire soldiers who burnt through the Moonshadow Forest looking for the Cult probably weren't making much of a distinction between what Moonshadow elves they found, because they would have believed them all guilty.

So after their forced emigration from their homeland in what is now Katolis, the Moonshadow elves have now undergone not one, not two, but potentially three genocides; their cultural genocide, which likely resulted in a lot of physical deaths in the Mage Wars; the potential genocide of the Cult of the Blood Moon, which most likely preyed primarily on other Moonshadow elves given their base of operations in the Moonshadow Forest; the Sunfire Empire and dragons' war on the Cult, which was likely directed at them all, until Kim'dael surrendered herself to Aditi and confirmed the rest of her Cult had been eliminated.

I have a pet theory that the Cult is why Moonshadow Elves have assassins, too. They could not defeat the Cult's supernatural powers with mere guards, and their numbers had dwindled so far that outright battle was unwise, so they resorted to, as Runaan calls it, precision violence. It's all that's left to them as a viable battle strategy against the much more powerful forces that surround them on all sides.

This explains why there's only a handful of Moonshadow villages, all living in the same forest, while the Earthblood elves have at least three major societies (Drakewood, other forests, mountains), the Tidebound have several cities and a thriving maritime civilization, the Skywing have at least two separate subcultures (nomads and Celestials) and some of the greatest feats of engineering in Xadia (the Celestial Spire, the city of Innea), and the Sunfire have a proud and powerful Empire.

And with that history, it's no real wonder that they consider betrayal or abandonment the ultimate taboo, worse even than an individual death. Betrayal or abandonment that results in more deaths than the individual would be unacceptable to a race that's dying out.

But here's where I think it's even worse than that. The Ritual of the New Moon calls upon the spirits of those who died as a result of the actions of the Ghost. The magic of the Moonhenge, at the Moon Nexus, the former center of their civilization, could be harnessed to open a portal into the realm of death. Rayla and Callum do this in the book "Through the Moon" and also in the final episode of season 6, attempting to help Rayla find her parents and make peace with their deaths (and in the latter case, bring one of them back with her).

My hunch is that the waters of the Moon Nexus used to be used for a lot more things like that, the same things as the Well of the Forgotten and the Moonpool in Moonshadow Forest. Also, it's telling that the Moonshadow elves leave a guardian at the Nexus even though its power was, theoretically, largely destroyed.

What if the Ghost Spell is . . . worse than we even think?

If most Moonshadow elves' spirits can be contacted through their sacred waters, what if Ghosts who died in shame can't be? What if that's why that's a worse fate than simply death? Because what is there to fear, if you're a Moonshadow elf, comfortable with the idea that life and death are a cycle and death is simply the next phase your soul will experience? Unless - you don't know what happens anymore, because you've been rejected, you are no longer Moonshadow. It's not just a horrible fate for you, who will have your own afterlife to worry about, it's a punishment for your descendants, too, who will never be able to call on your spirit like they should have been able to do.

This also fits with how insistent Rayla was that she had to make up for her parents' mistake. Why Runaan brought her on the assassination despite the fact that he knew she was too young and not ready. Tiadrin and Lain had been Ghosted, and Rayla, as their daughter, who was expected to have learned from them, was suffering the shame of their banishment. So he brought her into his home to protect her from that shame, brought her to Katolis to try and give her some measure of redemption - and we all know how that turned out. Still, this makes Rayla's outburst to Callum about how she HAS to stay and die for Zubeia make sense - because to her, what's happened to her truly is worse than death, and the only thing she can culturally do at this point to redeem herself in any way is to die in the line of duty. And her spirit STILL won't be welcomed home.

Now imagine her, or Runaan, facing Hendyr, the Skywing Dragonguard who knew Tiadrin and Lain stood to protect the egg, and finding out that he knew, but never said anything. Figured they were dead either way, so what's the difference between them being dead and their people calling them ghosts?

A big difference, when your arcanum is so tightly connected to life and death.

The one hitch in this thought is that Tiadrin and Lain are found in a spell in the Moon Nexus, but they pass on to somewhere else after being found. Also, it doesn't necessarily have to be true; the living elves simply have to believe that being a Ghost bars you from their contact, which would be reinforced by the fact that they don't speak the names of Ghosts. They don't even try with the living ones, and they would have no way of knowing when a Ghost actually died, even if they cared.

#the dragon prince #tdp lore #moonshadow elves #moonshadow lore #tdp headcanons

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jehan-d-art · 7 months ago

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my personal omegaverse headcanons for Jack and Joker (in my omegaverse stories alphas and cis male betas can impregnate people, omegas and cis female betas can get pregnant):

Jack - alpha (never really cared about being an alpha but learned to use it to his advantage that people describe him as a ruthless alpha; he has a slight tendency for feral behavior whenever he is in rut which he is slightly ashamed of)

Joke - alpha (he tried so hard to be a good son and alpha in the eyes of his family but eventually just stopped trying)

Tattoo - alpha (though him as a beta would also be interesting; however I like the idea of him having caught a bit of Aran’s scent even despite all of the omega’s scent blockers when Tattoo took the necklace off of Aran... I like the idea of them having felt a connection right then and there without acknowledging it for ages)

Aran - omega (though he keeps it secret because he tries to live as a beta, he masks his scent and has suppressed his heats for ages... of course I'll be writing a fic about him starting to subconsciously build a nest at Tattoo’s place once he feels comfortable around him)

Hope - beta (here, I really am not sure whether he could not also be an omega, like Aran, who hides his true identity; I like to think of him as a beta in a profession that is usually full of alphas so that Hope is made to prove himself again and again but ultimately the only person's opinion of him that matters to Hope is that of Save)

Save - beta (there was a time when he desperately wished he were an omega so that Hope and him could start a family though all in all, considering their life circumstances, he is glad he cannot -accidentally- end up pregnant; he wouldn't want to put either Hope, a theoretical child of theirs nor himself in danger)

Hoy - beta (I cannot decide whether he could be an omega or a beta, tbh, I just think he needs a stunning older alpha girlfriend either way)

Jack's grandma - omega (she is ready to kick some ass, especially those of alphas who do not take her seriously and a certain former rich kid omega gets adopted by her, just like she adopted Joke. however, she is so happy to have another omega in the family now and she helps him get in touch with his neglected omega side, she will later on even give both Aran and Joke her family recipes for omegan courting dishes so that they can properly woo their alphas... she has so many adopted grandchildren now and even a great-granddaughter so I kind of want her to be the leading omega of her ragtag/adopted family pack)

Rosé - omega (to me, she seems like a traditionalist omega, who never learned that she herself could achieve a lot even without an alpha mate)

I'll add more characters once I've actually decided on what I think they could be

#jack and joker #jack and joker you steal my heart #jack and joker omegaverse

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clubdionysus · 1 year ago

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[BAD DECISION #22] Listening to Jimin

warnings: new years eve is upon us and you know what that means!!!!! the arrival of the red witch!!! all three of jungkook girlies in one room!! lucky him!!!! the real question is which one is he kissing once the clock strikes 12?? heheheh

soundtrack: dont do that - leellamarz, toil

wc: 12.8k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

There are three fundamental rules to remember when dealing with a break-up, or so Jimin says.

The first is to always wear black.

"You never know what to expect," he says - though Jeongguk isn't sure about the validity of such a claim.

With every girl he's ever dated, he always anticipated the end, and always knew exactly how it would play out. He doesn't put this down to intuition, but rather to the fact he actually takes the time to get to know the girls he's dating.

Jimin, on the other hand, fails to consider such things. It's not that he doesn't get to know the girls he dates. He just doesn't really get how girls work.

"Black is your safest bet," he doubles down when he's met with a raised eyebrow from his housemate over a late breakfast a few days after Christmas.

Both home from visiting family, it had been Jimin who breached the subject of Jiyeong, knowing that Jeongguk tended to try and keep his problems tucked away, nice and neat.

"She cries? Mascara won't show. She throws a drink on you? Won't show. It's a win-win."

In all likelihood, he'll wear black regardless, but it's something to consider, at least.

Is he supposed to prepare a breakup outfit? No, surely not, he decides with a small shake of his head that goes unnoticed by Jimin.

"Alright then, hit me with rule number two."

Jimin grins as he sinks further into the sofa, pleased that Jeongguk is actually listening to him. As far as he's concerned, he has breaking hearts down to a fine art.

"Never - under any circumstances - send a 'we need to talk' text."

"But-"

"Never," he doubles down. "A we need to talk text means one thing and one thing only - she'll see what's coming from a mile away, and you need this to be a sting operation."

"Sorry?"

"Forgiven," he smirks, in typical Jimin fashion. "Nah, but seriously. If she catches wind of what you're gonna do, she'll get in there first. I've known girls like her, and I promise you - she'll end things before you get the chance."

"So?" Jeongguk asks as he gets to work slicing up the fruit that's been in the fridge for a little too long. It's not as pretty as it once was, but it needs eating, and there's nothing he likes more than starting the new year with a tidy and organised house.

"So?" he mimics, eyes on the television where he's watching a talk show he doesn't really care for. "My God , Jeongguk. Better to be the dumper than the dumpee."

Jeongguk thinks Jimin would be great on a talk show; always saying shit that holds no merit but with enough confidence, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was an expert.

"I don't think either is preferable," Jeongguk tells him - and he means it.

Ending things with Jiyeong is a necessity at this point. Not because of you, or residual feelings for Hayun, or anything like that - but for the fact he absolutely cannot stand her after she's had a few drinks.

She's pleasant, ever so nice, ever eager to please when she's sober, but the second a little tequila touches her lips? It's like another story.

Alcohol isn't for everyone. Working in a bar, Jeongguk has grown to learn this. He doesn't think she drinks too much - within a reasonable amount for any girl in her twenties - it's just that the chemicals in her brain seem to short-circuit. She gets jealous, and mean, and maybe it's his fault.

Maybe he could have been more attentive. Maybe his eyes do get distracted by the stars a little too often.

Sometimes, Jeongguk thinks it's okay; that maybe if he shifts her focus away from nights out and drinks over dinner, that it could work. Remove alcohol from the situation and it would be fine.

Thing is, his lifestyle is so heavily focused around it; Dionysus, nights out with the boys, his hopes for the future and the restaurant he so badly wants to open. It's always gonna be a factor of his future. Always gonna be a part of his lifestyle.

He doesn't want to argue for the rest of his life.

Doesn't want to attend Tae's art shows and worry that the free prosecco will end in a row over whether or not he spent enough time looking at her instead of the art.

Doesn't want to raise his glass for a toast at his wedding, only to go to bed without consummating the marriage because his new wife is in a huff over the hors d'oeuvres he'd insisted on during the planning stages of the big day.

Jeongguk works in difinitives. Thinks that dating is a test to see if you're compatible for long-term companionship. Knows that he and Jiyeong aren't . Doesn't wanna waste his time, nor hers.

"Well, no," Jimin admits as Jeongguk withdraws from his thoughts. "But in a lose-lose situation? Better to not be the biggest loser."

If he was being honest, Jimin would tell Jeongguk that he doesn't think this is a lose-lose situation at all. In fact, he thinks it's the best decision Jeongguk's made in a long time.

Jeongguk isn't so sure. Hasn't told you yet. Is a bit scared to do so. Worries you'll be disappointed. Knows he can't carry things on with another girl for your benefit, though.

Plus, he kind of wants Jiyeong to see it coming. Would make it far easier if she's the one to end things. Would alleviate some of the mental pressure.

"Final rule?" Jeongguk eventually sighs, knowing that Jimin won't change his stubborn ways of thinking, so he may as well hear him out.

"This one is the real kicker," Jimin acknowledges.

It's also the one that proves he does have a heart beneath the casanova exterior.

"It's the two-week rule," he explains, muting the TV and turning his body to face Jeongguk. He's still chopping up strawberries, using the board that suddenly appeared out of nowhere after Christmas. Jimin hasn't asked about it. Knows Yoongi made it, but that's all. "Birthdays, Christmas - big dates, you know the type. The week before and the week after them? You can't end it."

Jeongguk stops chopping. Looks up at Jimin. There's no smile on his face, just a little anguish in his round eyes, as if he's just found out Santa isn't real.

"What?" Jimin retorts. "That's the one I would have thought you already knew. It's common sense. You can't end things so close to a big event - especially if there's gift-giving involved."

"But-"

"Nope. It's a rule. New Year's counts, by the way," Jimin makes sure to add. "You gotta stick it out until the tail-end of January."

"According to who?"

"According to everyone who's ever had a relationship."

"But-"

"Really? This is the rule you're gonna argue against most? C'mon, Gguk."

The reality of the matter is that Jeongguk doesn't want to have to spend New Year's faking a smile and pretending like everything is fine, when it really feels like his head will implode at any given moment.

He glances over to the whiteboard by their fridge, which has a calendar marked out on it. It includes their schedules - Jeongguk's shifts, Tae's shows, Jimin's visits home, dinners at the Min's. Their lives are mapped out an enamel-coated sheet of steel, wiped away with a dry cloth every time the month changes.

In a couple of days, it will be time to start fresh again.

Jimin's been off work since Christmas eve, and won't be back in the office until the New Year.

Shift work makes Jeongguk's schedule a lot less predictable - but December 31st has been reserved for months now. As soon as December hit, Jimin had filled the entire space with bubble writing and explosive clouds. It's going to be big. It always is. His favourite night of the year.

Which is why, when he arrives home on the morning of New Year's Eve, snacks and drinks in hand for pregaming, he's confused that Jeongguk is nowhere to be seen.

There's been a change to the board, though.

DEC 31JK - work 6-12

~~~

They say that things tend to happen in threes, and - much like Jimin's rules for a break up - Yeonjun's already made three bets with Jeongguk by the time it hits 8PM on New Year's Eve.

The first? That he'll still be able to get a midnight kiss, even though he's behind the bar tonight.

"Don't even think about it," Jeongguk had warned, clear in his rules about not flirting with the punters too much - but Yeonjun is an insolent brat at the best of times.

He's also spent the last month or so sweet-talking Julia, a foreign exchange student who had picked up a couple of shifts a week to help tide her through, and that's where he's placing his bets.

Normally, Jeongguk would have noticed a flirtationship blossoming right beneath his nose. He's been so distracted lately, Yeonjun's been able to cross 'shag at work' off his bucket list without Jeongguk even suspecting a thing.

Even Jeongguk hasn't fucked anyone at work.

Yet .

Hair as blue as the off-brand curacao he's decanting into the 'real' bottles, Yeonjun is just as much of a menace as he always has been.

The second bet?

That Yeonjun can eat an entire lemon. Peel it, section it, eat it - like an orange or a clementine.

Jeongguk thinks he's joking - but Yeonjun's spunked away all of his money over the holidays, and needs to make up for it. Wins himself 50,000 won for that one. Also nearly has him head-first over the toilet, but that's neither here nor there.

The third and final bet?

Well, it's proven right at quarter past ten that evening.

Jeongguk is behind the bar, obscured by the club lights as the DJ plays an old song he's forgotten the name of. Knows all the words, but can't place it. Is so busy trying to figure it out, that he almost doesn't notice you arrive - but how can he not?

The lights quite literally reflect from you; your dress, your eyes, the glitter that adorns your skin. You've always been a disco ball personified, but never more so than right now.

You've not noticed him yet, too busy caught up in conversation with Danbi and Hoseok to pay him any attention. You're laughing, head thrown back, hand clutching onto Hoseok's shoulder to stop yourself from falling. Jeongguk can't hear your laugh, but he knows what it sounds like. Finds himself smiling, too.

"That'll be another 10,000," Yeonjun calls over to Jeongguk, and is met with a curt 'fuck off'.

A bet is a bet. Yeonjun is getting that 10,000, because he's right.

You do look more like a disco ball than ever before, just like Yeonjun prophesied you would.

Jeongguk always knew you would. It's why he rejected Yeonjun's first attempt at the bet - there was no way he'd willingly lose 50,000. Re-bet him at a much more sensible 10,000.

Unaware of the bet, and already a little too tipsy for your own good, you know that you've really outdone yourself. Know that if Seokjin happened to be at Dionysus - which he won't be - that he'd run for the hills.

Bleached hair growing out, glitter on every inch of your skin, dress as sparkly as the fireworks due to go off when the clocks strike twelve, you are everything he would have hated - which is exactly how you'd like to start the new year.

Jeongguk's grinning as you approach the bar. He's got a plastic cup in one hand, and the soft drink gun pouring from the other. Diet coke clouds into a puddle of vodka for some punter that Jeongguk barely gives a second thought to. He glances over to you, smile prevailing, cheeks almost a little pink, before his attention diverts back to the customer.

There are half a dozen people to serve before Jeongguk can get to you. Fairness is important, after all. Can't let you think you get priority over everyone else just 'cause you made him cum a couple of times. He doesn't stop smiling, mind you. Feels your gaze, and laughs to himself a little. Just can't help it.

When he finally makes time for you, you know you don't have long. It's busy.

He shouldn't be behind the bar.

He should be out having fun with you instead, you think. Or the boys. It doesn't matter. All that matters is him having a good time, regardless of who he's with.

"Didn't see you there," he tells you with a casual arrogance that makes your tipsy tummy feel all silly and ticklish. "Thought you were a disco ball for a moment."

He looks pretty today, hair tousled in that way he always does when he can't be bothered to style it properly. He's wearing a black button-up, but has left the top three of four buttons open. The top of his chest peeks out, chains layered and sitting handsomely against his skin. You're cursed with the knowledge of what he looks like without a shirt on, and a brain that doesn't know how to stop thinking about it.

It's at this point you realise it's going to be one of those nights.

You're only a few drinks in and already you're thinking that you'd really like to end your night with an orgasm - and unfortunately for you, you're well aware of how competently Jeongguk can give them.

You know he's off the cards as far as that's concerned, but for a harmless flirt? Well, what are friends for, if not that?

"Oh, really?" You beam, elbows resting on the bar, leaning a little closer so you can hear each other better. "Maybe I should take my dress off? Would that help?"

Jeongguk almost chokes on his own spit. You revel in the panic on his pretty features, all dainty and dewy and in need of a little glitter, you think.

He curses under his breath and shakes his head before he gets to work on a round of Purple Starfuckers, knowing that's what you'll be after.

"You're looking for trouble tonight, aren't you?" He asks as he sets the plastic shot glasses up in a row. Three. One for each of you.

"Not looking for anything," you assure him, and Jeongguk isn't sure why, but he's pleased with that answer. One less thing to worry about - though he does grab you a bottle of water from the cooler, regardless.

"Keep it with you," he says. "Big crowd tonight. It'll get hot."

You nod, eyes all doe-like and sincere in your thanks. Normally he just gives you a cup whenever you're at the bar, but he knows frequent visits will be harder tonight. Doesn't want you to be without water, should you need it.

He dips down again. Gets two more.

"Danbi and Hoseok," he simply states as he passes them over to you, indicating his intended recipients.

A mirrored backsplash runs behind the bar, allowing for you to watch Jeongguk as he works, even when his back is to you. There's a smile on his face, soft and serene, which drops a little when Yeonjun calls for his attention.

As Jeongguk turns, you notice a small spike of hair tufting up from the back of his head. It's most likely from falling asleep with damp hair after a shower, but it's so sweet you think you might be actually sick.

An enigma is Jeon Jeongguk; strong, brooding, broad. Tattoos etched into his skin, none of which you've asked the meaning of, and none of which he's elected to share. He's a mystery, all dark-eyed and chiselled-jawed, handsome without even trying.

And yet there are moments like these, when he's bright-eyed and bushy-tailed; jaw hanging a little lax, brows lifted to encourage Yeonjun to speak up. He's approachable; as kind as his smile is pretty.

He's everything your mother would tell you to stay away from, yet everything she'd encourage you to look for.

You suppose it doesn't really matter, either way. He's off the market, and you're not looking for any groceries, regardless.

There's no use squandering away one of your favourite friendships just because you have a pair of eyes and a functioning brain. Everyone thinks this way about Jeongguk. You're not the first person to notice he's a walking oxymoron - though when he lines up three extra shot glasses and begins to pour his signature drink into them, you realise he's arranged a dick-shaped formation, confirming that he might just be a moron, instead.

"Grow up," you laugh.

It's curious how sparkly his eyes always are in Dionysus. You think he has no right calling you a disco ball, when he's got a pair of them himself.

He checks his watch - silver, to match his chain - and sticks his bottom lip out as he reads it.

"Give it two hours and I'll be a year older," he teases, knowing full well the government abolished the traditional Korean ageing system, but not caring.

"Give it two hours and you'll still be an idiot," you reply, cheeks appled, glitter twinkling as lights reflect from the mirror and paint you in shades of magenta.

"Get your friends," he simply says, nodding towards them. "Drink up, or I'll make you pay for them, Disco Ball."

You don't mind it when he calls you this in the confines of Dionysus. It's nostalgic. Has you addressing him by the name you called him towards the start of your friendship, too.

"You spoil us, Star Fucker."

The irony of such a name isn't lost on Jeongguk. A Star Fucker is exactly what he is. Or was . Semantics.

He chooses not to reply to your statement, instead ushering you away. Tells you he's got people to serve. Says he's bored of you, but there's a smile etched into his cheeks as you wash down your shots. When you knock your head back, the glitter on your throat shines. It's decadant; irredescant.

And resting right where your collar bones meet, in the dainty little dip Jeongguk finds he likes a little too much?

A small silver bird.

He's so pleased to see it. Pleased , and a little shy and embarrassed that his affections for you are being displayed for all to see - but also a tiny bit smug, knowing that any fucker in the club who's drawn to your glitter will see evidence of him.

You aren't his, and he doesn't mean to think about it like that, but he likes that you've chosen to wear it. Likes that if somebody asks about it, you'll have to say, 'Oh, this? My friend Jeongguk got it for me.'

As you walk away, Jeongguk thinks you must leave a tail of fairy dust. He also thinks he needs his eyes testing whenever he's been looking at you for too long. Swears down he's got astigmatism.

You weave through the crowd with Danbi's hand in yours, and your other hand on Hoseok's waist, bottle of water tucked into your bag. As Hoseok guides you both to the centre of the crowd, you're reminded of why you like being absolutely shitfaced before dancing in clubs. The floor is sticky, and a non-descript soda-spirit drips down the back of your leg thanks to someone being too fucked to hold their cup properly.

It's part and parcel of places like these, though, and you know as soon as those Purple Starfuckers hit your system, you'll be grand. One would have done the trick, but two? Yeah, you'll be buzzing in a few minutes. S'why Jeongguk gave you two. Knows your tells. Could sense your levels.

You're lost to the night within a few minutes, but it doesn't stop Jeongguk from glancing to the crowd every now and again.

The boys arrive within ten minutes of you, and are the same rowdy gaggle they usually are. Yoongi is on his phone - checking that Seoyeon definitely will be at the club for midnight. She's getting ready with her girls. They'd opted for drinks at home for most of the night, unlike the boys who were mostly single and wanted to be out and about.

Jeongguk makes their usual orders and ignores the way they tease him for having to work. It was his choice. He did this to himself - and sure, he'd rather be on the other side of the bar, but when Jiyeong arrives a little while later, Jeongguk is glad for the distance.

He'd promised her and her friends a table to make up for his absence, and had allocated an extra bottle of prosecco to the table just to stop them from coming back to the bar. He doesn't wanna have to smile and pretend like everything is fine. She'll have expectations for the night, and he knows this.

There's lingering ache in his stomach; acknowledgement that he's doing something wrong.

He's not invested like he should be.

Jiyeong attracts attention. So do her friends. They dress similarly. Are indistinguishable from behind, save for a few highlights. Probably know the ins and outs of each other's lives. They likely know all about Jeongguk; the sort of cringe messages - the ones that are commonplace at the start of a relationship - that he's sent, the sweet gestures he's made, the genuine interest he's shown in her. They probably have an idea of what he looks like naked.

He does like her. Tells himself he does, at least. Smiles to himself when she jumps a little as the prosecco cork is popped by the table host. She has qualities he likes; determination, drive.

Perhaps if Jeongguk hadn't grown so soft, so insecure, they maybe things could have worked.

Before Hayun, he used to like fighting. Found it exciting. Had a girlfriend once that was much like Jiyeong. They'd bicker and argue until it ended up in the bedroom. A reset button would be pressed until the inevitable next time. He stayed with her for a year.

Occasionally, he'd argue with Hayun. When she was withdrawing, and he felt like he was losing grasp on a relationship that never really was a relationship, he'd cause a fight. Just something petty. Ask her why she'd been so avoidant, or question if she wanted to end things. Thought that maybe she'd work in the same way. Thought a reset button could be hit, and she'd want him again.

Sometimes it worked, but more often than not it didn't, which left Jeongguk in a constant sorry state of grovelling and trying to fix things. That never worked, either.

Sometimes Hayun would just fuck him to make him feel better.

Sometimes she'd ignore him for days on end.

The great unknown of which response he'd earn ended up cultivating a constant mess in Jeongguk's head. He was constantly seeking approval, constantly trying to be in her good books. He doesn't think she meant to make him this way, but it doesn't really matter.

He's never really let the scars settle. He picks at them until they bleed, and is surprised when they won't fully heal.

It's why he doesn't like arguing, now. It's why he avoids it as much as he can. It's why he sometimes lies. He's not malicious, just a product of the mistakes he's made in the past.

The memories fill his stomach like lead nails, weighing down on him, poisoning his bloodstream. They're so potent he almost thinks he can smell her perfume. She always wore the same one. He remembers it, still. It's french. Almondy. Expensive. Lingering. Unisex, so sometimes she'd spray him with it, too. Used to make him smile when he noticed it.

Makes him feel sick, now.

"Oi, boss man," Yeonjun calls over to Jeongguk as he's mindlessly making a couple vodka cokes. "Can we switch? She's asking for Star Fuckers."

Jeongguk laughs to himself. Why on earth you would have gone to Yeonjun is beyond him, but he kinda likes that you don't feel like you always have to go to him.

"Send her to my end," Jeongguk just calls back. His section is quieter than Yeonjun's at the moment, so it doesn't really make much difference. He's just served the last punters in the queue - two vodka cokes, no ice -and has time to kill. Get straight to it as you make your way up. Is surprised you're back so soon, but lines up 6 shot glasses regardless.

He turns to the back wall to grab the amaretto and is thinking about that perfume, again. Pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind, and thinks about the fact the DJ has definitely already played Stay, instead. He doesn't mind. Quite likes Justin Bieber. Demolishes the track in a noraebang.

Now that he's thinking about it, maybe that'd be a good way to end the night.

He goes to suggest it as he turns around - but the words catch on his tongue and dissolve into nothing; lyrics of a toxic relationship over a sickeningly cheerful melody drown out into silence, too.

"Hey," is all Jeongguk can muster.

A deer in headlights, eyes wide and bright, he isn't really sure what to do. His skin feels hot and prickly, but he's cemented in place. Can't escape. Can just stand, and stare.

And when Hayun stares back, a tiny smile fracturing on her red lips, Jeongguk thinks he'd quite like to die.

"Hey," she replies so quietly he can't hear her voice. The way her lips move - oh, it's just the same as it always was - has him entranced. She raises a thick, feathery brow as if to question his awkwardness. Her smile grows. "I'm not Medusa, buddy. You don't have to turn to stone."

Buddy .

God, it's like she driving those pretty red nails of hers straight through his heart. They match her lips. Perfect, and red, and poised to kill.

Jeongguk shakes himself together. Mentally, not physically.

In fact, physically, he's smooth as a smirk settles on his lips. It's all performative, but he learned to play the role so well. Has perfected it by this point.

"Sure about that?" Jeongguk says as he places the cocktail shaker down on the ledge behind the bar. "You're ugly enough to be her, buddy."

"Ouch," she laughs. Jeongguk thinks his ears are bleeding. "Back in town for all of five minutes and you're already making me wanna leave."

"Don't be a baby," he grins, convinced that if he acts normal, then maybe things will be normal. "You wouldn't have asked for Star Fuckers if you weren't looking for a little trouble."

There's a twinge of guilt panging in his stomach. He used a near identical line on you earlier.

She concedes, unaware of this. Unaware of you. Bites down on that ruby-red bottom lip of hers that Jeongguk used to know so well. "Yeah. You're right about one thing, buddy. Congrats."

"I'm right about everything," he protests.

The conversation is so easy. Just like it always was when things were good. She'd order his signature drink, and he'd watch on as she spent her night in a state of bliss with their friends until he could clock off and join them. She'd call him buddy, and he'd call her it right back, both knowing she'd end up in his bed at the end of the night. An in-joke, just for them.

When she looks at him like this - eyes sultry, a smokey eye framing them so effortlessly it's as if she was born with a kohl pencil in hand - he forgets how she would use the affectionate joke against him.

'We're just friends. I don't know why you're getting so emotional about this. I don't have to explain myself to you, buddy .'

But of course he has. Has wiped it from his memory, because it's far nicer to romanticise her than it is to demonise her.

"Didn't know you'd be back," he says as he pours her shot, trying to look ambivalent about it all.

She's toying with her card against the bar, her bare shoulders a stark reminder of what he used to have. Last time she was in Dionysus, Jeongguk didn't yet have a tab. Every drink was paid for on the spot. It's been so long since that was the case. Jeongguk finds that the stark reminder of how much time has passed makes his heart wilt a little bit. Has it really been that long?

"Nor did I," she shrugs, and Jeongguk tries to ignore the way her collarbones move so gracefully, her hair draping over them like a thin curtain obscuring something he once adored. "Last minute change of plans. Haven't seen the girls in a while, so-"

"Right," he nods. "The girls."

"And the boys," she offers him an inch, knowing full well he'll take a mile. Decides to just give it to him anyway. "And you. Missed my favourite bartender."

Favourite .

The word wraps itself around Jeongguk like satin ribbon, so soft and delicately smooth. Trails up around the back of his head, and covers his eyes; blinds him to anything other than her.

He wants to ask about her boyfriend. Doesn't wanna learn that he's over by the boys, engaging in drunken bonding with his friends. Chooses not to bring him up.

"Yeonjun?" Jeongguk just deflects.

Hayun nods. "Suppose so, considering I hear you've had a promotion? Bar manager, now?"

It's comforting, in a way, knowing that she acknowledges how much has changed. How much he's changed. The wreck of a man she left isn't the same man she's returning to. He's smug in this knowledge, and it prevails in the way he almost flirts .

"Ah, so you've been keeping tabs," he teases, to which she just rolls her eyes. "Sound a little obsessed, buddy."

Hayun holds back a smile. Her tongue rests between her teeth. There's so much she could say - but instead, she chooses to down her shot instead.

Jeongguk pours her another.

She knocks that back, too.

"Not with you," she eventually says. "With these?" She lifts the empty shot glass. "Yes."

The heaviness in Jeongguk's chest is obscured by the adrenaline that's rushing through his system.

The last time he'd seen Hayun, he'd been the one who'd had a few too many Star Fuckers. Ended his night slumped against his kitchen island, crying into his takeout pizza box.

It had been her last night out before moving up to Seoul. A long time coming, he'd always known that it was gonna happen eventually, but he still wasn't ready for when the time came.

'I don't know how I'm gonna be okay without you,' he'd admitted a little too candidly.

'You'll figure it out,' she had said. 'You always do, buddy.'

And she was right. These days, it feels like he has somewhat of a grasp on his life - one that he's only just been able to claw back from her. He pretends that you aren't the reason why.

So imposing is Hayun's presence, Jeongguk doesn't notice Jiyeong trying to catch his gaze from her table. Doesn't notice the frown on her face as she watches Jeongguk's conversation unfold. Doesn't notice as she walks to the bar - and truth be told, barely notices when she comes to stand by Hayun.

But Jiyeong isn't the kind of girl to go unnoticed. It's just not who she is - and she'll be damned if she's ignored .

"Hey, honey," she greets, sickly sweet, just like the moniker she's never called him before this very moment.

Jeongguk's focus is on her immediately. Gaze fervent, he's like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Heart in his throat, it's a miracle that he manages to look as poised as he does.

"Ji," he smiles. Is kind as he addresses her. "You good?"

She nods, pleased by the way he ended his conversation for her. A priority is what Jiyeong thinks she should be, and will only be happy when she's treated as such. It's not an unreasonable desire, he thinks.

Hands resting on the bar, Jeongguk doesn't really realise how clammy they are until Jiyeong reaches over to toy with one of them.

Jeongguk glances over to Hayun. It's a split second, but enough to see her eyes are on Jiyeong's hands, watching the way they trail up Jeongguk's tattooed wrist.

Hayun decides rather quickly that Jiyeong is a bitch pissing on her territory. Doesn't take too kindly to it.

"All good," Jiyeong smiles, ignoring Hayun. "Wondered if you were taking your break soon?"

"Hey, buddy," Hayun interrupts, not looking at Jiyeong, but at Jeongguk. He feels like an elastic band being stretched to its breaking point. "I'm gonna go catch up with the guys. I'll see you later, yeah?"

Jeongguk's tummy squirms. Hayun inserting herself into 'the guys' is deliberate, and he damn well knows it.

"Oh?" Jiyeong exclaims, feigning ignorance to the fact Hayun had been conversing with Jeongguk. "You know each other? Sorry, I should have introduced myself!"

She holds out her hand for Hayun to shake, but it's met with a contemptuous look and a glance towards Jeongguk as if to question his choices. She knows exactly what Jiyeong is doing. Has done it herself a handful of times before.

Also thinks it's laughable, because she stuck her flag in Jeongguk a long fuckin' time ago, and she's almost positive it's still there. As far as she's concerned, this new girl? She's just visiting.

"Jiyeong," she continues regardless, all smiles. The hand that's still toying with Jeongguk's wrist gets a little scratchy. She wants him to hold it. He knows this. Isn't sure what the right move is. Doesn't know who he'd rather piss off, but decides he likes Jiyeong so much more when she isn't mad at him. She smiles as he opens his palm for her. "Jeongguk's girlfriend. And you are?"

On a technicality - so much in the fact that he hasn't asked her to be - Jiyeong is not Jeongguk's girlfriend.

Right now, though? Safer to pretend she is.

"I'm an old friend," Hayun simply smiles, before turning back to Jeongguk. "I'll be with our friends, buddy. Have a good night."

He nods, and tries not to watch as she walks away. There's a queue forming, and he knows he needs to get back to work, but it feels like his head is gonna cave in.

Jiyeong is unashamed as she stares Hayun out, watching her walk over to Taehyung, who greets her with a hug that confirms she really is an old friend. Whatever history they have together, Jiyeong knows that Hayun will always have known Jeongguk longer. Will have known him better, at some point. It's irrational, but she doesn't like it.

"Need a drink?" Jeongguk asks her, not wanting to deal with any sourness. Knows he needs to get back to serving the punters lined up by the bar, but needs to remedy her woes first. Keep it sweet.

When Jiyeong speaks, the syrupy tone of her voice that she'd used with Hayun has turned incredibly bitter. "An old friend?"

Jeongguk doesn't respond immediately. Just sort of looks at Jiyeong. Wonders how someone so beautiful can make him feel so ugly on the inside.

"Hayun," Jeongguk confirms. "She's known us for years."

He's quick to make it about the group, and not just himself. He knows he's avoiding a difficult topic, but now's not the time. There are punters trying to get his attention. His eyes scan the crowd. This is too much for him to deal with right now.

He slips his hand away from hers, and takes an order from the girl beside her. 'Rum and coke, please.'

"You've never mentioned her before," Jiyeong decides to carry on the conversation as Jeongguk works. He wants to scream. Keeps his cool regardless.

"She lives in Seoul," he simply states. "Is never normally here."

"She's here now."

Jeongguk just shrugs, before turning to the girl and accepting her card. He gives a closed-lip smile, as if to apologise for the awkwardness. She's a little shy - definitely younger, maybe only about twenty - and her cheeks flame a little red from the eye contact.

Jiyeong doesn't like that either.

"Clock off," she says to Jeongguk as he passes the girl back her card. "At midnight. Clock off for midnight."

"That's not how jobs work, Ji."

Except it kind of is, for Jeongguk. He doesn't need to be working. He volunteered himself for this. Can come and go as he likes. The other manager is also on tonight. He's not 'on duty', as such - just a regular bartender. He's not needed.

He's choosing this.

"Well, fine," she hisses, and that's when Jeongguk knows how this conversation is gonna end. Same way conversations like these always do. "Maybe I've got 'old friends' in other bars."

"Maybe you do," he says flatly, as he smiles at the next customer. "What can I get for you guys?"

Jiyeong doesn't seem to care for his diverted attention.

"I do," she insists. Wants a rise out of him. "I don't need to be here."

"So don't be," Jeongguk snaps. He knows he shouldn't have, but his head's all over the place and he can't be fucked with another petty argument over nothing .

He listens to the order - three jack daniels and lemonade - and sets about making them. The music is loud, but it's not enough to drown her out.

"Fine," she says as she reaches for his hand when he goes to grab the soda gun. She wants his attention on her, and not some fucking customer. They're replacable, she thinks. She isn't. "I will go to another bar, and when it hits midnight, I will kiss someone else. If you let me leave, that's what will happen."

He knows that if she was sober, she likely wouldn't be acting out like this. The fact he's sober is probably amplifying his irritation, but there's a time and a place for this.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Jeongguk pulls his hand back. Picks up the soda gun and fills the plastic cups. The lemonade bubbles, fizzing over ever so slightly, but Jeongguk is too annoyed to care for accurate pours. Hands over the drinks, takes the customer's card, and then finally says, "You want me to chase you? I'm fucking working , Jiyeong."

There's a heat that comes with being inside a club, even in the depths of a freezing winter. Clammy bodies make the air steam, drinks sticky on the floor, slurred words misconstrued. No point crying over spilt liquor, though.

It's something Jeongguk is wise to. Has seen enough catfights to last a lifetime. Knows how easily the wrong choice of words can catapult decades-long friendships into the firing line. The same girls he'd see arguing would be back the next week, smiles on their faces, fingers laced together, affection evident.

It's different, when both parties are trashed. Forgiveness is more freely given. Mistakes made under the influence are chalked up to bad decisions never to be repeated.

The way Jiyeong repeatedly starts fights with him, without fail, every single time she gets a little tipsy isn't a mistake. It's a deliberate choice.

"I want you to care!" She scathes. "I want you to care about the idea of someone else kissing me! I want you to care enough to stop it from happening!"

Jeongguk laughs now. Really fucking laughs. Passes back the customer their card and then gives Jiyeong the attention she so desperately craves.

"Nah, let's call this what it really is, Ji," he sneers back, voice laced with agitation, nostrils flared. "You're making up hypotheticals to manipulate me into doing what you want-"

She laughs. It isn't pretty. "So now you're making me out to be the bad guy? Great."

"No, I'm not," he stresses, exasperated, talking with his hands because he doesn't know how to convey his frustration. "You just don't have to do any of those things! You don't have to leave, don't have to fucking get with someone else, don't have to fight with me over shit that hasn't happened yet-"

"No, I see how it is," she snaps. "You want me to leave."

"Honestly?" he shrugs, because what more can he do? He's reached his limit. "At this point Jiyeong, I don't give a fuck."

"Fine," she hisses. "If you let me leave, that's it. We're done."

"What?"

"If you let me leave, we're done."

Un-fucking-believable .

"You're like a fucking toddler just trying to push boundaries. I'm not your parent, Ji. This is never gonna work if you keep pulling shit like this."

She shrugs. Smiles in an ambivalent way that Jeongguk knows should scare him - but he's beyond the point of caring. He never should have listened to Jimin. Should have trusted his gut.

One of the drinks Jeongguk has just served is still on the bar, awaiting a pair of clammy hands to pick it up and quench the thirst of a shit-faced uni student. They're too slow. Jiyeong gets to it first.

She's like a cat in the way she smirks as the back of her hand flicks against it, sending the drink flying straight into Jeongguk's chest. It splashes down his abdomen, soaking his tummy, trickling down the top of his trousers.

Jimin's three rules of a breakup may work for him, but Jeongguk's never been like that. He isn't made for shit like this. He's a people pleaser, but he's growing to realise there's just no pleasing some people.

And as Jimin's first rule - 'always wear black' - is proven to be pretty solid advice, Jeongguk's head is even more of a mess than it was before. He doesn't know what to do. Doesn't know how to react. No one has ever pulled shit like this with him before. Not a punter, not a friend, not a girl.

"Oh no," she pouts, all dramatic and pathetic, as the cup drops to the floor. "I guess I'm just a toddler pushing boundaries ."

Jeongguk says nothing. Grates his jaw. Looks down at his chest where the fabric is clinging to his torso. The lemonade is gonna go sticky. He fucking hates being sticky.

"Maybe that old friend of yours can help dry you off?" Jiyeong smiles - but it's wiped from her face as Jeongguk glares at her in a way she's never seen before. Very few people ever get him like this - but the boundaries she's pushed have been tested beyond repair. There's no going back from this.

In other circumstances, he might let it slide - but public humiliation in his place of work is just cruel .

Those definitives Jeongguk dates in are at the forefront of his mind. He's looking for someone to share his life with. If he doesn't see a future, then he sees no point in carrying it on, and he's pissed off at himself for letting this go on for as long as it has.

He wants a family one day, and the idea of his kids having a cruel mother makes his skin crawl. Kindness, in abundance, is what he'd like to cultivate and, quite frankly, he doesn't think Jiyeong's willing nor able to offer that.

And so Jeongguk is clear, voice loud above the music as he says, "We're done."

Jiyeong laughs. The sound stutters in her throat, disbelief etched into her tipsy features.

"What?"

"I don't want this," he says, gesturing between them both. "Us. This. I don't want it."

Punters waiting by the bar look on with bemused horror. No one really has a clear grasp on what's happened, but they know it isn't good. Know that Jeongguk - mild-mannered, placid, Jeongguk - is fuming. He's so well recognised amongst Dionysus regulars that the idea of getting on his bad side is unfathomable.

Or at least it was.

Jiyeong pauses for a moment. The cogs in her brain are turning. She's aware she fucked up, but is too headstrong to admit it.

In his heart of hearts, Jeongguk knows that no one wants a relationship like this. Jiyeong likely doesn't, either. Is probably the product of her past traumas; boys who behaved in the way that she is right now.

Jeongguk's avoidant because Hayun was avoidant.

He knows you're fearful of commitment because Seokjin found it impossible.

Jiyeong probably pushes boundaries because she was burned by a boy who did the same.

But just because it's true doesn't make it right.

"Look, I don't wanna fight," Jeongguk sighs as he reaches for a cloth to pat himself down with. Yeonjun's clued himself into what's happening. Has moved up the bar, and is diverting Jeongguk's punters to him, instead. It's appreciated and will be repaid at a later date, but for now, Jeongguk needs to try and diffuse the situation. "But this just... this is fucking ridiculous, Ji. This isn't right. You know it isn't."

"We can make it right," she says now, as if Jeongguk's softness is making her realise that maybe she could be soft, too - but it's too late. His mind is made up. Has been for weeks, now.

"No," he replies quietly with a shake of his head. He doesn't want to cause further upset, but he can't keep lying to himself. It's not fair on either of them. "I don't think we can."

She says nothing. Just keeps looking at him as if he's gone insane.

"We can talk about this another time," he promises. "Not here. Not now. Not when you're drunk."

And then, all rather suddenly, as if she's forgotten that these are consequences of her own actions, Jiyeong is displeased. Turns her nose up. Tells him to ' get fucked ', as if that's gonna help the situation.

When she storms off in a huff, he doesn't stop her. Refuses to chase. He's not a fucking dog. Isn't gonna wait by her feet just in case she throws him a bone, like she hopes he will.

He tilts his head to the side. Shakes it a little. Sighs. His shirt is soaked through, and he knows he's gonna feel fucking horrible in a little while thanks to the soda syrup. He wouldn't care so much if he was getting fucked up with his friends, but he's void of anything to intoxicate him.

When he glances over to Jiyeong's table, her gaggle of friends have already left, so he assumes she has, too. The knowledge of this doesn't alleviate any stress like he half thinks it should. Just makes him feel like a failure all over again.

He can't stand looking at everyone smiling and having a good time, so he turns to rest his palms on the back bench of the bar. Drops his head, chin to his chest. Breathes. Fuck sake.

For all of her flaws, Jiyeong was proof that he'd managed to get himself over whatever the fuck Hayun put him through. Without her, what's he got to show for it all?

"Take 5," Yeonjun calls over to Jeongguk. He glances over to see Yeonjun's cerulean hair a mess, exhaustion on his features - but the queue is entirely gone. "I mean it, Boss. Take 5. I've got it covered."

Jeongguk's stare lingers, but eventually, he nods. Doesn't want to fight against anyone, not even Yeonjun. Does as he's told. Knows that the kid is gonna be cherry-picked for his job whenever Jeongguk leaves Dionysus, so figures he may as well give him a taste for authority.

That, and Jeongguk also really does need to take five.

The pressure of his fingertips against the smooth steel pins as he taps in the staff room code is welcome; a reminder that people aren't supposed to be hard. The pads of his fingertips are soft, and so is he.

Scattered in possessions that belong to his friends, the staff room is remarkably quiet compared to the main club. The sofas are empty, cups by the sink, too. There's a white shirt slung over the back of a chair, left there from the paint party all those months ago. It's the one he had brought along for you, but it seems like he needs it now.

His fingers work downwards, threading buttons through the silky fabric, releasing his body from the prison of a damp shirt. It rests open, but still clings towards the bottom where it's the most saturated in fucking Jack Daniels. He's always hated the stuff. Hates the smell. Reminds him of Tae's 19th birthday. Years later, he still can't stomach it.

Jeongguk is tired. Mentally, physically, he's exhausted. Has spent the last couple of weeks trying to hold it all together, when all he's wanted was to crumble like chalk from an eroding cliff edge. The nets that have been holding him in place have been torn through, or so it feels like.

Sinking into the sofa with a small thud, Jeongguk can't figure out how every single decision he makes seems to be so disastrous. Surely life is so supposed to be easier than this?

He rubs his ink-covered hand over his face, pushing it back into his hair. Lets his head hang back over the sofa and up towards the ceiling. There are a dozen beige marks on what should have been a paper white canvas; water damage from years of disrepair. The hidden secret of clubs is truly how decrepit they really are. Nobody notices when the lights are off, and there are disco balls obscuring the ugliness of it all.

It doesn't take much for you to find your way back into his mind. It's rude, how often you intrude. He should start charging you rent.

A soft smile settles on his lips as he thinks about how easy it is with you. None of those complicated feelings that come with Hayun, and none of the aggro that accompanies Jiyeong. Wishes everything could be as simple as the way he feels about you.

As he sits up a little straighter, his eyes fall on a pair of heels. They're next to your coat, chucked in the corner of the room, a little out of the way. They sparkle, even under the dull light of the staff room. Encrusted with diamonds that he knows are just little fakes, they match your dress.

Part of him wishes he hadn't taken up that bar shift.

Would have just made Purple Star Fuckers in the staff room with you every half an hour or so. Would have definitely pissed off Yeonjun with how frequently he was hopping behind the bar, but who cares? Would have been worth it.

A small box of plasters is perched on top of your coat; wrappers, too. He looks down to his feet. Wonders if you changed into your Chucks. Maybe you match. He likes the idea of that.

Legs spread, hands resting over his thighs, Jeongguk tips one of his feet ever so slightly to get a better look at the inner trim of his sole. By his ankle, beneath the classic all-star logo, there are tiny scratch marks on the rubber.

Before he'd taken a corkscrew to the shoes in this very room, there used to be a small 'H' there.

Used to wear them to keep her close. Wears them now 'cause it makes him laugh whenever you twin.

"The fuck are you doing?" He mutters to himself. Doesn't understand why he's even comparing.

Except he does.

It's been nearly a month and a half since he woke up to you in his bed, glitter all over his pillows. His sheets have been through the wash twice since then. Still finds glitter on his skin. Can't shake you. Is reminded of you every time tiny specks catch in the light. You're under every golden sunset and in every night sky. You consume him; eclipse him.

He'd take the darkness, though. Scared of the dark, but doesn't mind it if it means he can see you.

The distance has been unhelpful. Jeongguk overthinks. Lets his mind get away from himself. Needs to talk to you to remind himself of your dynamic; to remember how good things are as they are. Can't be fucking things up just 'cause his head's a bit of a mess.

He mumbles to himself as he stands up to change his shirt. Laments his past choices. Knows that he ruined his friendship with Hayun because he let his mind run away with the possibilities of 'what if?' and refuses to let the same thing happen again. It's not worth the heartache. Not when you guys have such a good thing going.

He pulls the white shirt over his head, and checks himself over in the mirror on the back of the door. His chains rest on top of the fabric, but he's not sure whether or not he should tuck the shirt into his trousers or let it hang loose. Eventually, he unbuckles his belt and adjusts his pants so that he can arrange his shirt a bit more freely, opting for tucked-in. You always mention how much you like his belt whenever it's on show, so he figures this looks better.

There's a side table by the door, and on it are a handful of novelty headbands for the night. He needs a bit of a pick me up, so he reaches for the most ridiculous one - silver and sparkly, 'HAPPY NEW YEAR' written in chunky plastic lettering over the top of it. He pushes it back through his hair as if it's a pair of sunglasses, and decides that'll do. His chest might be hidden now, but his forehead is out. What a treat.

He's barely gotten through the door when he spots you zooming up to the bar, most definitely trashed. Your little hands grip onto the bar to keep you from losing your balance, and your smile is borderline insane - but it gets Jeongguk smiling too.

You gasp. "An outfit change?! You didn't tell me we were doing outfit changes!" And then you pout. "You're gonna upstage me, Gguk."

"Impossible," he jokes. "I'm not half sparkly enough."

Glancing towards his little headband, you decide you must have it. It's a fault of yours, how often you like to... acquire ... things when you've been drinking. Lighters, hair accessories, the occasional street sign in your youth, there was little you didn't want when you'd been drinking.

He notices the way your eyes are glued to it, and smirks. "Jealous?"

"Immensely," you confirm without any hesitation. You sort of look like a puppy waiting for its owner to finish a slice of toast. "In fact, I have a proposition for you."

"Go on," he grins, crossing his arms over. You wish he wouldn't look at you like that; chin tilted upwards, tongue on the inside of his cheek, heavy-lidded eyes baiting you out. Especially not when you're as tipsy and prone to making god-awful decisions as you are. "I'm listening."

"I am prepared to offer you a trade," you begin to bargain, a cheeky glint in your eyes.

"A trade?"

"A trade," you nod, before you start rummaging around in your bag. Jeongguk watches with great curiosity, wondering what on earth you've got crammed in there - until you pull out a thin tube covered in sparkles. "Gimmie the headband and I'll give you glitter."

It's not a fair trade. You know it's not a fair trade. His headband is everything .

And yet Jeongguk doesn't even try to negotiate - just reaches up for the headband and leans across the bar to position it in your hair for you. He takes his time - makes sure it's perfectly placed - then rests his elbows on the bar, his chin in his hands.

"Glitter me up, Disco Ball."

There's genuine delight in your eyes as he says those words, and Jeongguk finds himself smiling in that compressed sort of way he does, tiny puffs forming beneath his eyes, nose scrunched, front teeth on show. He looks like a little bunny, and you think it's appropriate given that you're about to enter the year of the rabbit.

You squeak out a small 'yay' as you begin to unscrew the tube. He's never seen you put your glitter on, but this definitely isn't how he ever imagined it. He always just sort of assumed you sat there with a pot of craft-grade glitter and some sort of glue. Never considered that you put it on like lipgloss.

"Might be cold," you warn as you begin to dab the applicator against his cheeks. It shimmers and shines beneath bare lights, and you're amazed that you've never done this before. Jeongguk's skin is to die for. No better canvas. No better person.

Your fingers gently clasp his jaw, pulling him a little closer. "You look so pretty."

Jeongguk's smile is all bashful. He tells you to fuck off. Assures you he looks very manly.

"I like the white tee, black slacks combo," you admit. "And glitter can be manly, too."

"It can?"

"You're a man, no?"

There's a closeness to this position; one that has you forgetting that you're in a club, surrounded by dozens of people who will all be drawing their own conclusions over whatever is happening by the bar. You learned a long time ago that you can't control other people's narrative of you. If they think a certain way? Make assumptions? Let them.

You also can't control Jeongguk's eyes, and the way they flick down ever so briefly to your lips as your talk.

It means nothing. Jiyeong is here, or at least you think she is. Jeongguk knows better than to fucking flirt when she's around. Again, you think she's nearby.

You're unaware of what transpired. You don't know he's wearing an outfit you like so much because she'd decided to lose her cool. Are none the wiser of the fact that Jeongguk ended things. Sure it wasn't clear cut, and he'll likely need to have another conversation with her to fully establish their parting of ways, but as far as he's concerned, he's done with her.

He doesn't tell you this. He won't tell you. Not yet. After the evening has passed, maybe.

But not now. He knows you'll make him talk about it, and truthfully he wants to forget it. Wants to stargaze.

And now that he is? Fuck .

Fifteen minutes to midnight, and all Jeongguk can think about is your rules, and how much he hopes you won't break them for a stranger.

Doesn't want you to break them for him, either - you're off your tits and he can't even begin to start playing catch up until the clock strikes twelve. Just wants you to be safe. That's all.

Unaware of the workout he's giving his brain, you pull back from Jeongguk to study your work. The glitter is iridescent; purple pink hues scattered over the tops of his cheeks. He looks so charming that you squeal again. You simply adore the way he shines.

"Wait, wait," you say quietly, encouraging him to lean closers again. "Pout."

He does. It's cute. He sort of looks like a little emoji, all puckered and a little embarrassed, trying to stifle his giggle. You trace the wand of your glitter over the top ridge, delicately dappling his cupids bow in teeny tiny traces of glitter.

You pull away again to take in the sight of him. So pretty and ethereal. You want to fill his tattoos in with glitter, too, but you'd miss midnight if you did. Maybe next time.

"There," you smile. "That way you won't be able to deny it when Tae is your new year's kiss. You'll both be covered in it."

Jeongguk laughs. Shakes his head. Thinks you're stupid. Thinks you're cute, too.

The headband holds some of your hair back, much like it did with his, and Jeongguk is pleased. Your constellations deserve to be admired in their full glory.

"Star fucker?" He just asks.

You nod. Of course. You'll never turn one down.

"Can I get a drink to go, too?" You chance.

He points up towards the vodka, just to check, and is pleased when you nod. He knows you well, it would seem. Holds up one finger, then two, asking if you want a single or double.

You hold up three fingers. He rolls his eyes, smile prevailing - but makes you a double with a separate side shot, just in case you wanted to down it and use your drink as a chaser. You narrow your eyes, almost as if you're questioning his choices. Thing is, you trust him. Are aware that he has his reasons for doing things in the way that he does.

And so you take your shot and use the drink as a chaser.

"You'll miss new years," Jeongguk says, nodding to the frankly far-too-large screen behind the DJ, which already has a countdown on the screen. There's still about ten minutes to go. "You gonna break your rules tonight?"

It takes your brain a second to compute what he means. You furrow your brows, lips parting as you hum a confused little squeak - until you realise.

Laughing, you hold up your drink, and press a delicate kiss to the plastic cup. When your eyes close, Jeongguk is reminded of just how much you shine under club lights. It's a crying shame you don't kiss more people, he thinks.

Not that he'd like watching it. Just that he likes your glitter. Can see it better this way.

"Vodka is the only thing I'll be kissing," you assure him. The way you smile, all tipsy and giggly, gets him smiling, too. Then you correct yourself. "Maybe Danbi, too, but she doesn't count."

And she'll also likely be kissing Taehyung, if the way they've been flirting for the last six months is anything to go by.

"So you're allowed to kiss friends?" He grins, teasing you for your self-imposed rules.

"Friends who I don't fuck," you nod, with a smug smirk on your face - before you realise what you've said and how horribly inappropriate it is. There's a panic in your eyes as you backtrack, hand flailing about. "No, I don't mean- Like, I mean- Fuck. We don't fuck. I mean we did, but that was like once-"

"Twice."

"Don't get technical on me," you laugh. "Doesn't count. Either way, I didn't mean it like that." You look around, checking that Jiyeong isn't anywhere close, still totally unaware of the fight, or the fact she even left.

Jeongguk seems to be aware of who you're looking for. His lips settle into a small, almost unnoticeable, frown.

But you notice.

Of course you notice.

"Whatsup?"

He just shakes his head. "Nothing. Scarper, you little freeloader, or I'll charge you for that drink."

"Noted," you grin, distracted by the way he smiles, now. "If you're allowed, you should be with us all when New Year's hits. Or I can stay by the bar? I don't know where Jiyeong is, but-"

"I'll come find you guys," Jeongguk nods before you finish your sentence. Smiles, still. Seems sincere.

"Okay," you say quietly, a pleased look upon your face. You hate the idea of him watching on as you all celebrate without him. He's so important. You think it wouldn't be worth celebrating without him there with you. "Good. See you next year."

He laughs in that way he so often does whenever you say or do dumb shit. "See you next year, Byeol."

He loses you to the night once more, but doesn't imagine it will be for long.

The brightness of the LED screen counting down the time makes everything feel a little brighter. The DJ is hyping up the crowd as you work your way back to your friends. There's a girl who's taken your spot next to Tae, but Jimin notices you immediately and beckons you closer.

"DB," he slurs, as he pulls you in for a hug so tight you swear your back cracks. "Thought we'd lost you."

Shaking your head, you giggle against his neck which makes Jimin shiver a little bit. "Was by the bar with Gguk."

"How is he?" Jimin asks as he pulls away from you.

"All good-"

"What?" Jimin shouts as he leans closer. It's so much louder here than it is down by the bar. You position yourself next to his ear and explain that Jeongguk will join you all at midnight. Jimin is incredibly pleased to hear this. "Perfect. The night is young, but so are we, Disco Ball. Drink up!"

And so you do. You've nearly finished the drink Jeongguk made you already. You only stop yourself from finishing it off because you feel a presence next to you that puts you on edge a little bit.

Jimin's on the other side of the circle now. Notices the way she leans in a little to make herself known to you. Knows you, and knows how you'd go to bat for Jeongguk against anyone - especially anyone who has done him wrong. He wonders if he should intervene - but then Hoseok starts dancing in a way Jimin didn't realise was humanly possible and he feels challenged. No one outdances him. Ever . And yet Hoseok? Yeah Hoseok is giving him a run for his money, and he's too drunk to focus on more than one thing at a time.

Like you, Jimin would also go to bat for Jeongguk against anyone. Now that he realises you're both full of shit, and suit one another better than a yakult-soju mix, he wouldn't even dream of approaching you in a more than friendly manner. He'll still flirt a little, but he flirts with everyone. Jeongguk included.

He's the only one who really understands the gravity of the interaction that's about to happen - but he's also far too concerned with the fact Hoseok's body seems to defy gravity.

And so no one else really notices the way she encroaches on your space as you're glancing over to Jeongguk, making sure the queue isn't too long. You don't want him to miss his chance to join you all for New Year's.

"I thought Jeongguk had a girlfriend?" The girl beside you purrs.

"Hmm?" You hum with a little surprise, not expecting her to start a conversation with you. She obviously knows him, but you can't place her. "He's seeing someone."

She nods, eyes still on Jeongguk, watching on as he serves a small group of girls. His smile is ever-present, but he isn't as lively as he was with you. Doesn't look at them all starry-eyed. You pretend not to be pleased.

"Not sure how I'd feel about some girl going up to my boyfriend like that," she shrugs, sipping on her drink.

You glance over to her now, affronted by the tone in which she's speaking to you - as if you hadn't quite literally been the one to set Jeongguk up with Jiyeong. You're hardly a threat. You don't think anyone could be a threat, 'cause you've got a pair of working eyes and are incredibly aware that Jiyeong looks like she belongs in the fucking Louvre.

"Sorry?"

"Just saying. I wouldn't be happy with some girl all over my boyfriend like that."

The girl with the attitude problem wears a shade of red on her lips that you know must leave stains. If you were being critical, you'd tell her that she should go for a colder-hued red. The orange base of her choice washes her out a little bit.

But the lighting is bad, and you're sure it looks better under natural lighting. You're just being bitchy 'cause, well, she's being bitchy. At least you don't let your bitchiness out of its cage.

Much .

"Her boyfriend is a multidimensional human being, who has an identity and a life outside of his relationship," you assure her. It sounds great in your head, but in reality, it's a little incoherent because of all the vodka in your system. Jeongguk's get-fucked-up-quickly hack of a separate shot and double-chaser is doing its job. "Regardless, I'm hardly a threat. I literally set them up. He's, like, my best friend. It's not like that with us."

She snorts. "Right. Sure you are."

"Sorry?"

"Well I've never heard of you," she smiles. "And I'm pretty sure if you asked him who his best friend is, he'd say it was me."

The vodka in your system burns . It's like someone's taken a lighter to your liquor-soaked tongue just to watch the flames trickle down your throat.

The penny drops, shattering on the ground like a pane of glass. This is Hayun.

If you acknowledge your awareness of who she is, it will only confirm that she's a prominent part of his life, even in her absence - but equally there's nothing you'd love more than to put her in her place. Hayun has been a thorn in your side since before you ever learnt her name, and no amount of rose-red lipstick can make you think prettily of her.

Jeongguk is your best friend. He and Danbi are incomparable, but both play fundamentally important roles in your life. Both are deserving of the title, you think.

Your days are better for knowing him. You're not entirely sure if he'd say the same, but you're pretty certain he thinks fondly of the life he's experienced since knowing you.

There are, at least, no residual memories of hurt. You know he won't look at you and be reminded of what rock bottom feels like - and that's pretty nice to know, even if it isn't nice knowing he once was there.

"Word of advice?" You simply hum. "If you wanna fight over Jeongguk, do it with Jiyeong. I'm not interested, you possessive little weirdo. You'll get a much more interesting rise out of her than you will from me."

Maybe name-calling is a little immature, but it's better than calling her a raging cunt and pretending she has lipstick on her teeth just to make her squirm. You might still do that last part.

"I'm not interested in a fight," she says vacantly, a smug smile etched on her ruby-red lips. "I just know Jeongguk. I know what happens to the girls he becomes 'besties' with. I wasn't the first 'best friend' he had, and I doubt I'll be the last. Doubt you will be, either."

Your exterior is icy, but something about her words troubles you. You've never tended to think of yourself as special, but you also didn't think you were insignificant, either.

Admittedly, there's also nothing you hate more than the idea of men only befriending women so they can bed them. You've had friends in the past that have dropped you once they realised you weren't interested in pursuing anything romantic.

Jeongguk's never given you those vibes - but you have also fucked him, so it makes it a little more complex. Her words get under your skin, and you detest her for it.

She's rattled you - and for what? It's nearly midnight. You don't want to be having this conversation right now.

"You're being awfully repugnant for someone who isn't interested in a fight," you simply smile, deciding that playing nice isn't what you want to do.

Sure, it might annoy Jeongguk if it gets back to him, but so what? You're not obligated to be nice to everyone he likes. You try your best not to be too quick with judgements, but your opinion of Hayun has been rotting for a while now; festering in the deepest, darkest part of your brain.

If she had tried being nice to you, then maybe it would be a different story - but she decided to get petty first.

You shouldn't stoop to her level, you know, but you're about six star fuckers deep, and that's before you even consider the vodka cokes Hoseok's been keeping topped up all night. You're trashed . It's a miracle you can even stand straight.

It's partially thanks to the fact your balance has improved tenfold since taking up pole with Danbi, but also because you changed your shoes. Switching from heels to converse? Game. Changer.

"You've got a mouth on you," she assesses. Turns her nose up. You want to flick her stupid shiny forehead. "He normally prefers the nice types."

"Well, then it's a good job it doesn't matter what 'type' I am, then, isn't it?" You reply, not caring for this weird little drama she's making out of a simple interaction. Storm in a teacup, you think. "He's just a friend. Like you are. You're just his friend."

Hayun doesn't bite back this time. She stews. Sips on her drink.

"Surely - yanno, as his best friend - you should want him to have lots of friends? Want him to have a thriving social life?" You add. "Instead of trying to chase away people who care about him?"

"Ah, so you're more about quantity over quality," she nods. Smirks. "I see."

And sure, you could be the bigger person. You could just walk away in silent protest. You could be mature about it all.

You could go to the bar, and order a drink, and question Jeongguk's taste in women - but he could probably do the same back to you.

While there's a lingering fear that speaking unkindly to Hayun will earn you a place in Jeongguk's bad books, you decide that it's worth it. He might be blind to the fact she's an insufferable twat with as much decorum as a flooded sewer grate, but you aren't.

You're also drunk, which isn't helping in the slightest. All you wanted was a fun evening to say farewell (and fuck off) to what's been a pretty awful year. Being in her presence was never part of your plan, and you're actually a bit annoyed with Jeongguk for not at least warning you.

"I'm 'more about' you shutting the fuck up, actually," you finally snap. "Don't give a shit about your weird little Jeongguk fixation, but it's gotten real boring real fast. Now if you don't mind, Yunnie , I'm gonna go enjoy New Years with my friends. I would wish you a happy new year, but I couldn't give a fuck." The drink in your hand is finished off; down your throat in one final, rather undignified, swig. You turn to look at her, smile, and hope she knows what a dickhead you think she is. "Have the year you deserve."

It's three minutes to midnight, and Jeongguk's watching on with a knot in his stomach as you walk away from a conversation that neither you, nor Hayun, look pleased to have had.

She's glaring as you disappear into the crowd, disgruntled by whatever you had to say. He remembers how Hayun works; how she'll say something catty but won't ever see a fight through. Always resorts to silent treatment.

He knows you got the last word in, but knows that it would have happened regardless of Hayun's bickering style - because that's your style.

Though it feels like time has ceased to exist, the clock on the big screen still counts down. Before he realises it, it's two minutes to midnight. Hayun is smiling now, joking with Nabi, or Tae. He isn't quite sure who. Danbi and Hoseok are with everyone else, too, but you still haven't emerged.

It's at this point Jeongguk resigns himself to the fact that your rules are being broken tonight.

He doesn't like the way it makes him feel; all jittery and skittish. He wants to know where you are. Wants you to be safe. Doesn't want you making bad decisions you can't take back. Wants you with people who care about you as the clock strikes twelve.

Scanning the crowd, he debates going in to find you.

But then, all rather sombrely, as the clock ticks closer and closer to the ever-imposing New Year, he spots you. Knows exactly where you're heading. You're walking in his direction, but not towards him. If his guesses are right, you'll walk straight past him.

And you do.

He knows you well.

You deliberately avoid his gaze as you walk on by. You don't want him following. He's got a New Year to celebrate. People he loves to celebrate it with.

So do you - but it's been such a shit show of a year that maybe it'd be cathartic to say goodbye to it alone, before you're able to welcome a new year in with others.

Or maybe you're just a little too drunk and emotional to be around someone who makes you feel real fuckin' shitty.

There's a minute left.

Hayun keeps glancing over to the bar. Jimin's got his phone to his ear, and Jeongguk's phone is vibrating in his pocket.

Follow you, or find his friends.

It's a head or heart decision.

Trouble is, he doesn't know which is which, anymore.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

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empressgeekt · 11 months ago

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Trolls - Accidental Crystal Knight (FoF au au)

So, I was looking over the different aus that have made an appearance on Ao3, and The Crystal Branch was one of them. So here's my attempt at combining it with the FoF au (don't worry I haven't forgotten about the end of the world au for FoF).

We start on a less then routine patrol for the Forest Guard. It's dark a storm is beginning to come in. Branch stayed out along with Tresillo, since the troop they left with were investigating giant footprints in the south part of the forest. If their dealing with Giant issues Branch wants to be on top of it, even if it's just a Bergen that wandered into their territory. Despite the brewing weather, the two are having a very casual conversation about the guard uniform, because Tresillo is on the fence of whether or not to wear the armor since most of his moves are dance based. It's when the rain starts that things go south. Branch sees the hand reaching out for Tresillo before the former bounty hunter does (Pop trolls kind of have a sixth sense for giant hands at this point, Branch especially), and throws Tresillo out of the way. The reggaeton troll falls through the Brambles of the forest's low brush, getting cut up and hitting his head, but hidden. And Branch is taken away.

Keith immediately knows something is wrong when Branch doesn't come home that night. Poppy knows it too, sure she knows that he's takes possible giant threats seriously, but he knows to get back to the bunker before really bad weather sets in. By morning, and after a meeting with the troop that left earlier, a full blown search party is deployed. They find Tresillo, knocked out but Blood clotting saved his life. Still no sign of Branch. They keep searching the forest, but after three days they get the full story from Tresillo who finally woke up. Poppy is horrified that something might have taken Branch, under her orders and the rest of the Guard's lieutenants suggestion, she beefs up security around Trollstopia and on the trading networks between the Kingdoms just in case. All while still looking for Branch.

Meanwhile, Branch was currently being transported to who knows where in the troll world's equivalent to a cat carrier, and he is not happy about it. He doesn't recognize they type of giants that caught him, but he's narrowing down their weak points. No visible joints, probably exoskeletal shells, but there eyes are large and probably sensitive, considering that their practically nocturnal. Branch does not let them think he's and easy catch, he keeps escaping the cat carrier, and attacking them. The female slams him usually to disorent him and shove him back, and try to proorly re-enforce the carrier. Seriously, He has a sword he will cut thought duck tape no matter how much you use. At some point they make it to mount Rageous, Branch tries to escape one last time there, because he hears the twins yelling at someone about how a "better cage" wasn't complete. Needless to say Branch is not sticking around for that. He's about to get into the vent when he pauses at the sight of a troll trapped in a bottle. A hand grabs him and squeezes his breath out of his lungs, next thing he knows he shoved into the bottle with the other troll.

Floyd had been trapped in the bottle for who knows how long, disassociating has become his new hobby, Crimp sneaks him food and water, and the only thing he wants to do is take a shower and sleep in a bed. He barely reacts to when the Twins come back from their little trip, he's horrified another troll was captured, but he doesn't react. He doesn't have the energy. Until the second troll was shoved into the bottle with him. At first he's startled, but he quickly turns his attention to helping the Troll catch their breath. Floyd doesn't recognize the odd armor their wearing or the weapons they had.

"You're going to be okay, just breathe. Everything's fine."

"*huffs* Fine? I've been kidnapped and carted half way across the continent! It's not fine!"

"Doesn't mean getting upset will help. Believe me pissing off Velvet makes it worse."

"Yeah I'll be the judge of that. Those noodle limb idiots aren't the first Giants I've had to fight off, next time that lit opens I'm taking out both of their eyes."

"*mildly concerned* Uhm, My name's Floyd..."

A masked face just turns to the red-headed troll and, "Fuck my life."

Branch does not want to talk with his long lost brother. Floyd was a liar who abandoned him, that's all Branch needed to know. However, Floyd is making the not talking thing very difficult. Every other word out of his elder brother's mouth is either an attempt to make up or utter words of comfort that Branch doesn't need he's a grown troll who licks his own wounds thank you very much. At one point he thinks Floyd's worse then the fucking Spritz. Honestly he's this close to punching out the smaller troll's teeth. It's when John Dory shows up that Branch thankfully gets to load off some steam.

When JD got the letter about both his baby brothers in danger, of course he set off for mount rageous. He finds them in a diamond bottle, Floyd seems happy to see him, Branch however remains on the floor of the bottle silently watching. John isn't even sure it was Branch because of the mask, but Floyd confirms it. It isn't until Floyd starts to talk about the harmony that John hears branch speak, and it wasn't like the sweet little bitty B he remembered.

B: oh for madonna's sake will you both shut up! We all know that the fucking harmony won't work.

F: Branch it will work, don't worry.

J: Yeah bitty don't worry we got this

B: *rolls eyes and stands up* First, don't call me bitty, second we couldn't even pull that myth off when we were still a family, what makes you think we can do it now?

F: Branch, we're still family, we can do it.

B: Please Floyd, we haven't talked to each other in 20 years, I know my neighbors better then you, and i live in the middle of the woods. John, You need to go north of bergentown, there you'll find Pop village, it's hidden deep in the forest but it's there. Get in contact with Queen Poppy, if you tell them I sent you they'll listen to you. She has contact with the Funk tribe they can make an alternative that can save us if they don't have one already.

J: Bits don't worry we got this!

B: John! For once in your miserable life just listen! If your so instant on the damn harmony then do it, but get in contact with Queen Poppy first! If you ever gave a single crap about me, then do this...please.

J: *taken aback and sharing a glance with an equally shocked floyd* Okay, B. I will.

Back in Pop Village, Poppy is besides herself. She had reached out to the other tribes asking if they had any kind of kidnapping (they hadn't, but their on high alert), and asked Gristle to look into forgein connections asking if any sort of giant nation is buying/selling trolls. She's keeping herself together best she can, especially since she's now Keith's primary caregiver, with Branch missing. Speaking of the trolling, things haven't been good. It's the middle of summer so the trolling was on a break from school, however instead of spending time with his friends or working on his book, Keith was spending his days searching the forest. Looking everywhere for his brother, all while wearing Branch's lest vest (he doesn't usually wear it underneath the uniform). Tresillo has been a godsend in this time. EVen if he's out of the hospital he's still not on active duty yet, so to keep busy he's been going with Keith to make sure the trolling's safe, when Poppy can't. The reggaetón troll kind of feels guilty about what happened, even if he wasn't sure what was attacking them. So he's taken to protecting what Branch cared for most, his woman and child. It's on one of these excursions when All three of them come across a Troll and his armadillo bus.

John Dory did decide to check out the forest that Branch asked him too, with how desperate his baby brother sounded how could he not. He ends up stumbling upon a small group of trolls, two adults and a child. He introduces himself, but quickly get side tracked at the sight of the Kid's vest. He knows that Vest. His dad wore that vest, and then he wore it as did everyone in his family, Floyd being the last one he remembers having it, as Branch was too small. Floyd didn't have the vest at Mount Ragous, neither did Branch. The kids eyes were blue, and so was his hair....Holy crap no wonder Branch was so insistent that John come here, he had a family. With how clingy and nervous the pink troll was with the kid no doubt who was the mom, or just Branch's partner and the kid was a case of an ace egg. Either way, bitty had a family that he was worried about. (also how old was branch we he got a kid? This little guy was at least 8 and Branch was what? late teens? early twenties?)

Poppy is a little suspicious of the John Dory at first, after all he's looking at her little Keith in an odd way, but then he mentions Branch and she's all ears. To her horror he tells her, that her Branchifer was currently being held captive. To her surprise he tells her that he's Branch's brother (and that he's brozone, she'd fangirl if she didn't have a scared trolling in her arms). Thankfully John Dory also offers her a plan to rescue Branch. She's about to say yes, when Tresillo pulls her aside and makes cautions her. Go with him is she has too, but Tresillo urges her to contact the other tribe leaders about this matter since this is technically a war crime since Branch is on the council as head of security, not to mention that with his experience in musical combat he knows that the PFH is something that's nearly impossible to pull off, it might even just be a myth so they need a back up plan. Poppy has John Dory drive them back the to the village, before heading out. She gets the other royals involved and asks for their help. Funk is already working on a way to break diamonds before the day ends and the other's (along with the Bergen kingdom) are trying to get in contact with Mount Ragous officals to get them to do something.

John Dory is not happy about waiting for Queen Poppy (His baby bro scored a queen, great job Branch! Also this adds to further theory that the kid isn't actually hers but she and Branch got together after the kid was born...and did that mean his baby brother had to deal with a pregnancy and newborn on his own?) to finish with...what ever she was doing. All he knew was that it was taking time (barely a few hours), and he needed to get this show on the road. Apparently she wanted a back up plan, and he couldn't understand why, the PFH was a perfect plan. Eventually, she's ready to go, though John is worried about the guard who insisted on accompanying her. That is until Tresillo says, "She is a queen who is going into a territory who's people have proven dangerous to trolls, You think we're going to let her go with out protection?" John relents at this, perfectly fine with a third member of this rescue team, at least until Rhonda hits bump and a tiny green trolling falls out of one of the kitchen cabinets.

Keith felt bad about sneaking on to the transport critter, when Poppy asked him to stay with her dad, but the trolling wasn't going to let them rescue Branch without him. Especially, since all of branch's bio brothers would be involved, no way was Keith going to let them hurt Branch again. Poppy can't send him back at this point, and then JOhn Dory drives them off a cliff....yeah Keith was coming along.

Meanwhile in the Diamond prison Branch was beginning to feel the effects of imprisonment. He's started having nightmares of Poppy and Keith trapped in a bottle in Velvet's clutches, and they're impossible to hide from Floyd, because even if Branch tiled the Bottle onto its side they're still practically sleeping on top of each other. Floyd keeps trying to get Branch to talk about it, but all he gives his red-headed brother was that "Just dreams about horrible things happening to people I actually care about." It isn't until a dress rehearsal that Branch finally cut's Floyd some slack. The spritz hurts but the knight manages to recover quickly. Floyd not so much. Branch isn't sure if it's due to Floyd's longer imprisonment, the fact that he's trying to push the little food and water that Crimp and Veneer are sneaking them on to Branch, or the lack of sleep. Still once he watch's Floyd's feet crystalize do major alarm bells start ringing in his head. Though, he waits until Crimp and the twins were gone until doing anything.

B: Sit down.

F: What?

B: Sit down I'm checking you out.

F: Branch don't worry I'm fine.

B: Don't give me that crap. You and I both know you're feet turning into rocks is not normal. Sit down I'm checking you out.

F: *sigh* fine

B: Do they hurt?

F: no, they just feel cold.

B: *mumbling* could be messing with blood circulation...

F: Did you become a doctor?

B: What?

F: did you become a doctor? You seem to know what your doing.

B: No, just field medicine, first aid that kind of thing.

F: so first responder?

B: No.

F: then why....

B: *rolling his eyes* if you must know it's an occupational requirement. And no I'm not telling you why for what my job is. Can you feel this?

F: Feel what?

B: I'm pressing the sharp end of my gauntlet tip into the ball of your foot. You can't feel it?

F: N-no...what does that mean?

B: Well either, you're foot is dying or what ever this is is damaging you're nerves.

Back with the rescue Squad, John Dory's post card is not well received, but Tresillo actually recognized the island so they're not shooting completely blind. Still that didn't mean he agreed with getting them nearly drowned. Though, he and Keith do like John's machette. Keith asks if Tresillo had ever been to the island, nad sadly the reggaeton troll hasn't, his squad's hunts mostly stuck inland.

Bruce is surprised to see John Dory, but it happy to see his brother, even if they parted on bad terms. He also recognizes the vest, and takes notice of Keith's hair color, drawing the same false conclusion. When Poppy introduces her self as Branch's Girlfriend, all he wants to do is congratulate his baby brother on such a beautiful family. All he feels is horror when he learns about Branch and Floyd being kidnapped. Once given the okay from Brandy, they leave to look for Clay.

Finding the middle brother is harder then they thought, it's a good hour or two, of Keith making a clue board, calling Tresillo's old informants, Bruce driving since he doesn't know the first thing about tracking, until Keith remembers how wolves track and finds the funderdrawers. Yeah everyone is grateful to john for keeping them, but are incredibly grossed out. The only shared thought between the whole group when they enter the golf course is "Someone was murdered here"

Meeting Viva and Clay is a little different in canon. Poppy is already stressed out by her boyfriend being in danger, so she doesn't react all that well when viva is revealed to be her sister, and kind of has a little break down with Keith in her arms. This leads to Bruce and John explaining the situation to Clay and viva, still under the impression that Keith is Branch's kid and Poppy is practically the kids mom, and how the two youngest are in danger. Tresillo isn't apart of this convo to correct them, becasue the putt putts are giving him bad vibes and he's not going to slack on his protection detail here. Viva wants to convince Poppy and Keith to stay in the golf course, safe, and spends the next hour trying to convince her to stay. After all, while she feels bad for Branch, Giants got him, in viva's mind he's as good as dead. Clay starts working on their escape, planning on using Poppy and keith as a distraction while they run out to get Branch and Floyd. Tresillo objects to this, after all did they even think that Poppy and Keith would be okay with such a plan. Clay asks why would that matter they would all be coming back here. This sparks a conversation about how Poppy, Keith, Tresillo and Branch had lives outside of the golf course and they couldn't stay. Bruce has to agree with the reggaton troll much to Clay's disappointment. Viva tries to tap them, but this only makes Poppy more upset, Keith unlocks the gate and they get out of there. Poppy's hurt that she and viva didn't get along, but she has to think about more then just herself, she has to worry about Keith, her kingdom and of course Branch. She can't loose her Branchifer.

Back in the bottle, Branch is getting more desperate. Whatever those shoulder pads did was 10x worse then the bottle, and while Branch hasn't had anymore symptoms other then exhaustion and some bruising from the rough handling, the same couldn't be said for Floyd. The crystalization had spread to his hands, legs and even hair. The elder brother is half asleep most of the time and constantly freezing. The shivering gets to the point where Branch feels bad enough to take off his armor, shirt helmet and gloves to try and keep Floyd warm by giving it to him, also to protect Floyd from hurting himself since he can't feel much of his body anymore. This reveals the scar the chef gave him and Floyd is horrified Branch still refuses to tell him what happened but that is enough to know it's bad. They try to escape with Floyd playing dead and Branch calling out for help. The moment the bottle opens Branch jumps out and attacks Velvet with his sword, cutting up her face and using his hair to choke her while telling Floyd to run for it. Floyd doesn't get far, as he turns back just in time to see Velvet Rip Branch off her and throw him to the floor before kicking him into the wall. In the end the attempt fails, and without his armor to protect him Branch suffers severe injuries.

Inside of Rhonda practice is happening (Tresillo's driving since he doesn't want to be involved). From the start it's a disaster. Poppy is pulled in as a practice substitute for Floyd and John tries to get Keith to play Branch's role, but Keith doesn't like to sing. Poppy steps in and tells John to back off when he pushes. Very quickly everyone looses track of why they're doing this by picking at each other's old wounds. The rising tension and shouting, finally pushes Keith over the edge. The trolling starts sobbing about how Branch is going to die and none of them care. Poppy rips off the puffy vest and runs to the trolling's comfort. They all make half hearted apologies but then "Mission the mission, after this we go our seperate ways". Poppy has some chose words for them.

Poppy: I don't know what happened back then. But what happened after? You're all at fault. I used to think could caring Branch was towards everyone, wanting everyone safe, was just him having a good heart. But no, its because no one did that for him, and the one person that did...may Madonna bless your Grandmother soul because she must be turning in her grave if she knows what's happening right now. No wonder Branch never told anyone about you.

Tresillo pulls over and they (Poppy, tresillo and Keith) leave. they meet up with Marimba and Tambora with the plan to get Branch and floyd out of there, before bringing them to the Funk trolls to get them free. Infiltration is easy for three former bounty hunters and Poppy and Keith are fast learners. they find Branch and Floyd easy enough. Poppy and Branch reunite with hapy tears and Keith and Branch hug through the bottle, while the reggaton trolls try to find a weak spot in the bottle. They don't find one and their too small to get the lid off. they have to retreat back into the vents, just as the twins come back.

The car chase is utter hell for Branch. He's fairly certain he has several broken ribs and a concussion, every jump and jostle is a whirlwind of Pain. Even worse Floyd is barely conscious at this point, and to keep him aware Branch is answering any mumbled question his elder brother asks. Mostly Floyd wants to know who the Pink troll and green trolling were. Branch answers but still keeps certain things private, it's only when Floyd starts talking like he's on his death bed does Branch get really concerned. He might not be on best of terms with Floyd but he doesn't want him to die.

It isn't the harmony that frees them, instead it's the proper authorities stopping the boat and arresting the twins at the end of the ride. Poppy Breathes a sigh of relief knowing that Essence and Quincy were successful in getting the mount rageous leaders to help and make a device that could undo the lids of the bottles. Cooper arrives in a smaller shuttle to take them to the hospital in Vibe city, and with Floyd still half out of it with crystalized limbs and Branch developing a collapsed lung, they don't object. (they take Rhonda with them in a separate shuttle).

Branch is taken to get scanned and eventually the surgery table to fix internal bleeding, but over all his prognosis is good. Poppy and Keith wait at his bedside almost never leaving. Tresillo pop in and out, but he's there when Branch wakes up. "You came for me?" "C'mon hermano, I couldn't let you hold saving my life over me for too long."

It's Floyd everyone is worried about. During the transit he lost consciousness and eventually slipped into a comatose state. the doctor's set his fractures and put him on supportive measures, a feeding tube, IV, and breathing tube, but there's little they can do for the crystallization at the moment. He spends three days in the ICU before the doctor's notice a small improvement with the crystal creeping back.

With Floyd not being allow visitors until he's more stable, three panicking older brothers turn their mother-hening towards Branch. The Knight is not happy about it. Poppy was sadly pulled away since she needed to help with all the legal matters of the scandal, being Pop queen it was her tribe was directly threatened and she needs to be present in the meetings with the Mount Rageous leaders. Branch also makes Keith go hang out with cooper for a few hours a day so the kid isn't just sitting in a hospital room. He can't really move due to the chest tube, but he is very tempted to leap out of bed and smack his bio-family up the head, when they act like they know what's best for him. Needless to say they are force to air the dirty laundry and Branch lets them have it. The brothers know they have a lot to make up for and they are willing to make it work. Branch with some prodding from Keith allows them a chance, but he calls the shots. He also sets them straight regarding his relationship with Keith (they are all a little embarrassed by that misunderstanding). Eventually Branch is let off th chest tube and allowed to go home with strict orders to rest and go to a hospital the moment anything felt off.

Life goes on another two months, Bruce left and came back, Clay helped convince some of the putt putts to move to Pop village, Poppy and Viva reconcile, the twins are given a life sentence and use of trolls for talent enhancement is outlawed, John Dory sticks around the village to make sure his brothers are safe, Keith is getting used to have more then one Brother. Eveything seems to be getting better...except for Floyd.

Three months pass, Floyd still hasn't woken up. The crystal is gone, but his limbs remain thin and pale, and the roots of his hair remain stark white. He was moved to the hospital in Trollstopia for long term care. The doctor's aren't hopeful. One day Branch is visiting, his brother's hand cold in his, "If you don't wake up, and make all our hard work to save you worth nothing, then I'll never forgive you."

Floyd's hazy eyes open...

----

Well here's this idea. I think this was a great idea to celebrate the end of the summer semester. Once more ask all the questions you want. I really need to go to bed.

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harocat · 9 days ago

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Mid-Year Drama Update

Seen this a few times on the dash. Here's mine! This year I haven't had as much time to watch dramas as I did last year. I've also been really bad about finishing them lol.

COMPLETED

Moonlight

I'd watch Esther Yu and Ding Yuxi watch paint dry together, so naturally I was charmed despite Zhou Chuan's occasional behavior. As with most moderns, it was a little long, and it had some poor taste fatphobic jokes, but overall-- it's Esther Yu, it's Ding Yuxi. The crowd cheers.

Love in Pavilion

Surprisingly, considering the... quality of FSM1, I ended up liking this a lot. A few slow points, and while I expected the BE, I thought they drew it out too long. There were a few scenes in this that I would legit put in my top ten fave xianxia moments ever, they were so epic and well done. Definitely should have been the first part of the FSM trilogy, instead of the middle part. I recommend it-- but beware it IS very sad. Large but likable xianxia cast.

Ski into Love

Literally zero skiing despite the title (it was all snowboarding). I watched this for Esther. The things I do for love. I jest though, because it really wasn't bad at all. It was sweet, pretty, and had some nice found family vibes. Again with the fatphobia, but it's worse in this series. The final conflict with her family was irritating, but the show is still a nice watch. I enjoyed that it was only twenty-three episodes, which is a perfectly fine length for a modern.

The Judge from Hell

Kdrama. I enjoyed this, but I felt like it sort of petered into nothing by the end. I didn't feel much for the protagonists. I don't really know what to say. It just felt shallow to me. Though they're not really much alike, it made me want to rewatch The Glory.

Trauma Code: Heroes on Call

Kdrama. Only eight episodes. I watched it in a few nights. Very entertaining, brisk moving medical drama. I would watch a season two.

I am Nobody: The Showdown Between Yin and Yang

Fantastic second season, but it does leave you VERY much wanting for season three because it feels super unfinished. I'm not sure why they made it so short compared to season one. Chen Duo's story is gripping and heartbreaking. The new characters are fun. New Zhuge Qing casting was weird though.

Guardians of the Dafeng

Wonderfully fun, with one of the best final showdowns I've seen in a while. Brutal and satisfying in a way Cdramas don't always give us. The soundtrack is on repeat for me. I love the hell out of Didi's comedic chops, and this show played to them extremely well (but watch out). A show that never takes itself too seriously, until it has to, and then? It does so shockingly well. Lovable MC, lovable side characters, lovable show.

IN PROGRESS

Legend of Zang Hai

So fucking good. The only reason it's not complete is because there aren't enough hours in the day. I'm ecstatic to finally see Xiao Zhan get another drama that's worthy of his talent, because to be frank most of his scripts the past few years have... not been amazing. Genius protagonist on a quest for revenge, constantly outsmarting the machinations of the men who slaughtered his family. Interesting side characters; the marquis is despicable, but occasionally, the show makes you forget that for just a moment and he comes across worth saving. Then you're reminded oh he literally keeps the skins of Zang Hai's parents in his basement. Likable side characters and allies, a slow burn romance that remains a nice B plot, clever storylines. -1 point for Zang Hai's helmet head wig when he's in official mode.

The Demon Hunter's Romance

I really loved this show a lot. I might like it even more with different actors in the two lead roles, but it's a fun, well written yarn filled with folklore and magic, great demon designs, tight plotting, and some very inventive twists. It doesn't particularly look an idol drama. There's not a lot of gloss and glitz, and characters can go episodes without changing clothes. This isn't a complaint! Just something I found interesting. The reason I haven't finished it is because iqiyi decided to change the screenwriter's original ending because they asked AI about it. Which is infuriating beyond reason. Imagine being a writer and this is what they do with your hard work. So I stopped a couple episodes before the end. I'm not sure if I'll ever watch the last two eps.

Love of the Divine Tree

I'm 3/4 through this. Enjoyable xianxia with very solid, cohesive writing. The leads don't really stick with me, but I like watching them. Beautiful wigs for Deng Wei, fun villains (Temu Devil God Tantai Jin I mean you). In a word this show is consistent, and that's something to be valued in xianxia especially, considering the quality of writing the poor genre seems to get at times.

Moonlight Mystique

Feels paint by numbers. The chemistry is not chemistrying between Bai Lu and Ao Ruipeng, which is strange to me because Bai Lu can have chemistry with a tree. The series feels like a hodge podge of other, better xianxia, yet there's nothing particularly bad about it. I... might finish it?

Flourished Peony

FANTASTIC so far, but it's quite heavy with themes of abuse, abandonment, and misogyny so I often don't feel like watching a ton of episodes at once. My main issue is Li Xian's male lead, who I find strange and almost a little out of place. But it's a quibble. This is a great show so far. I'll get back to it soon.

DROPPED

Haven't officially dropped any yet this year!

TO WATCH

The Prisoner of Beauty

The Blossoming Love

Kill my Sins

Squid Game 2 and 3

#flourished peony #love of the divine tree #legend of zang hai #guardians of the dafeng #moonlight #ski into love #i am nobody #cdrama blogging

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katyspersonal · 9 months ago

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hey, I saw that you and your friend got some unwarranted nonsense for your lore posts on Marika. I thought it was nice to see people give Marika some agency for once.

Thank you for a message, and support, I suppose; I am glad that you liked the analysis and takes themselves.

Honestly, the whole thing was really unfair to Val. That post was not even about Marika, it just tangentially involved her! @val-of-the-north was addressing the situation of people seeing Marika as that noble hero who was up to rid the world of "Hornsent's evil" and making the world better by only obliterating the filth that ruins it of sorts. Correctly pointing out how much injustice and cruelty happened under her reign, caused or allowed! Yesterday I've made a post ( x ) about Marika that is the best reflection of mine and Val's opinion on her! Sounds rather humanising and positive even all things considered, right? And the reason why Val did not do a giant disclaimer explaining how Marika is not 100% cruel monster was because that post was not! about! her!

And yet, imagine how VAL was feeling. The original reblogger maybe earned (my) disrespect by admitting they hated any interpretation of Marika and Messmer that weren't their, as well as using an oddly specific made up story as a proof, but on conceptual level, it is not wrong to start a debate! Debates are good, debates are healthy, debates are vaccine against being stuck in hostile echo-chambers believing you are superior and others are "media illiterate weirdos"! They were switching goals wildly like a bunny making its traces on the snow a labyrinth, BUT, it was fun to double-check Marika's lore there! But it stopped being okay when another person faaaaaaar not Val's size got involved and not only made it some sort of 'affirmation', but then also continued to mock his post as aNoThEr CaNcEr tO MaRiKaS jOy before their followers uncritically approving of everything they say! I know I should not act like he or me are special, because this is just a constant in any fandom/community!

Imagine that big, radiant, loved by everyone artist with more followers than there are people in your country, whose creativity and presence stands in the fandom seen from every spot much like the notorious Erdtree itself, for the first time having a direct interaction with you...... only to unfairly write you down as "just another Marika hater" and "part of the problem in the fandom" with "a post so bad they wish they could remove it from the addition" pure upon virtue of agreeing with their biased subjective vision. In front. Of their. Huge. Fanbase. When they also didn't even read the post and admitted to not even loredig. (Why do you think you can be the judge whether someone's lore is right or wrong when you do not even research it? Seriously why?) There are very vitriol-filled posts about Marika that do not offer any nuance, yet from my knowledge, they only ever earned vagueblogs? Just getting readsomewhered, as 'some weird takes I've seen'? But it was a fair, researched post, dealing only with facts, that earned the "honor" of directness?

Besides, it was rich saying the post was wrong and better be removed to only keep the addition, when the post was about people approving of Hornsent genocide! And the reblog of disagreement that made it about Marika..... justified Hornsent genocide. So, proven Val's point, hilariously? Literal Queelign behavior, all. 🤦‍♂️

#how many times do we have to teach you this lesson old man!#that you do not enter discourse in fandom from moral high ground standpoint!#exception is if original poster is spreading toxicity and is mean to 'unfaithful' takes which val wasn't!#ask replies #/vent #it is a bit long but I strongly fixate when things are not fair #like it is not that val's love for elden ring or his trust to the community got crippled or anything #it is that it was not F A I R #poor val tho it felt like he was a kicked dog

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valeriefauxnom · 7 days ago

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Yet Another Crack Theory: Phares and Elysium

I've uncovered the totally intended deeply hidden lore before, whether it was Leonidas' intended maiming that they backed out from committing to, to Midgardsormr being the dragon that accidentally killed the royal family's mom, and now it's time I do it again, this time even bigger and better for a correspondingly greater level of nonsense I am channeling. Seriously, I would best render myself like so for this one, so consider it your fair warning:

What latest crack theory did I unearth? Well, hear me out:

Were they intending Phares to transform into Elysium, who was dead?

Now, mind you, this theory is inherently a matter of early-game speculation, before Nedrick and Sacred Tree drama kicked up, much less Xenos drama. This is conjecturing for what they possibly might have been planning instead of what we got, as Dragalia was written by several authors working separately that had different visions for the story.

With that in mind, let's assemble the pins on the conspiracy board I've created...

The crux of this all starts with NPC Phares' art. The siblings had fully designed NPC art with corresponding titles, instead of the generic wooden pedestal. For example, this is Chelle's, and her title is 'The Inferno'.

This is Phares'.

Looks... pretty bland on first glance, almost fitting for a generic 3 star unit, but there's a lot more going on here. For starters, his title. Dragalia Lost brushed over them in-game entirely, but his Japanese NPC titles were 'Dawning Light' (a thing that would later be reflected into his actual unit's 'Dawning Wind',) and 'White Light' (the Japanese has simpler or alternate titles above the actual one, which sometimes gives a different title). Keep this in mind for later.

Next, take a look at the background behind him.

Who is it, though? Well, things are muddy, but there are two possible answers: a proto-Uranus... or Elysium.

You can see it either way, depending on what aspects you choose to focus on. If one is looking at the chin structure, it looks more like Uranus. If one instead focuses on the chest, though, as @soumarhea (whom I will be using additional observations from) has, though, you might find another dragon...

The chest resembles Elysium's ornament.

If we entertain the possibility that this is Elysium, more curiosities open up. Why would Phares have an Elysium carving on a stone behind him? Why, it almost looks a bit like...

A tombstone. And it's breaking apart.

Huh.

This is where we can start pulling in Phares some more. 'Dawning Light' is a suspicious title, in this regard. Dawning carries a certain... 'growing' connotation. Ascending. Elysium is strongly tied to light (in fact, I'm going to come around to that later, as well). So if Phares is the 'dawning light'...

But wait, there's a lot more symbolism and stuff to examine. Take a look underneath the main body of his pedestal, and you'll find a certain hidden light, shining outward. Fairly well-hidden, but it also helps strengthen this 'concealed light' presentation.

Let's also take a look at Phares' design compared to Elysium's. Both share a color scheme: white scales, blue accessories, and gold for further highlights. Phares' messy hair also, -extremely vaguely, mind you, -reminds me of Elysium's horn set, with his strands often turning upward like Elysium's do. Perhaps most damning even if it's still vague, they share chest ornaments of a reminiscent manner:

With Emphatic Red And Purple Lines, hopefully it's easier to see where I'm coming from:

The triangular structure surrounding the circular centerpiece, the point at the bottom, the supporting lines that weave underneath the main body... it's far from exact, but there is something there, I think. Throw in whatever weird white leather offshoots of Phares' outfit (they're separate from his leather tunic) as the lower protrusions on Elysium if you want, too!

Their iridescent green eyes and scale color are also suspiciously close:

So now that I've hopefully established that Phares and Elysium shared surprisingly many traits in their overall design, what else could there be to suggest something as farfetched as 'Phares was going to turn into Elysium'?

I'll crack into Phares and his name a bit more here. As I've gone over in this post, Phares shared some surprisingly deep Greek roots (as did the royal fam in general, with several inspired with Greco-Roman names/theming). The long and short of it are these points:

-Phares' name is quite possibly drawn from 'Phanes', a progenitor god from an earlier strain of Greek mythos. Phanes is strongly associated with light, sometimes called 'light-bringer', and has any number of other connections to other figures/concepts like knowledge, Uranus, and more. Even if I ignore the Greek, his name is literally 'lighthouses' or 'headlights' in French.

-Phares' JP skill names are in Greek. If the DL team had just translated out the sounds, his skills would look more like 'Desmos Orkos' to us, etc.

Hm. Yet more ties to light.

Speaking of light, Elysium (and Ilia) also ties to this Greco-Roman mythology.

Elysium is more of a place than a creature, and is sort of this heavenly plain in the Greek and Roman afterlife. Ilia, meanwhile, is another name for the mother of the founders of Rome, Rhea Silvia, via birthing Romulus and Remus. So we universally see strong Greek and Roman influence between Elysium, Ilia, and Phares, all tied to influential and important figures in its mythologies.

I'll divert a bit to the early lore, especially what we know of dragonblood and certain events.

Specifically, the origins of dragonblood: by all accounts, dragonblood originated from the light of Elsyium's pact/Primal Mark Theft with Ilia shining down and granting people dragonblood.

Note, while Forgotten Truths paints it as a more... violent process, it's originally described more gently:

But even with the more violent take on it, we see a recurrent theme of Elysium's light or the Primal Pactsone being the tying element to what gave the family dragonblood.

Now let's look at one of the great mysteries of the game that never got resolved: Euden's chapter 1 transformation.

Into Elysium, mind you, a thing that only Morsayati seems to inherently recognize. Even Zethia or Elisanne are not freaking out about Elysium being suddenly there. The former is more concerned with if she 'awoke his dragonblood somehow'. They don't recognize him.

But if Elysium was around, wouldn't the world have at least some idea about what he looked like? Even a singular sighting over a century might have spurred many a depiction that carried on.

Enter the 'Elysium's kinda dead' aspect of this theory: he's not been around for a while, long enough that his looks don't cause immediate recognition?

The broader point with this section, though, is that there is very strong ties between the family's dragonblood and Elysium. If Elysium is 'hiding in the blood' enough for people like Zethia to 'awaken' it, is it really so far-fetched to go one step further?

What if wyrmscale is just another 'awakening' of Elysium in the blood, perhaps trying to claw back to life? We know that powerful dragons undergo reincarnation in Dragalia. With Elysium being an unusual, powerful, unusually powerful dragon even among the 'big dog' dragons, it's possible his reincarnation is somehow complicated. His spirit might have persisted past death and is just trying to find another body.

Early!Phares is highly doubtful wyrmscale even is a disease to start with:

Instead, he's become quite enamored with the idea of turning into a dragon, in contrast to his earlier fear. Furthermore, he has been continually dreaming of turning into a dragon:

Here, sourmarhea suggests that this change of perspective is a corruption of perspective a la Xenos - that Elysium is influencing him to take actions to complete his transformation/revival. Speaking of Xenos, this scene is weird in retrospect, as the god would likely care not for being a dragon and would thus not be very encouraging of Phares' dreams of becoming one.

Another point to this possible 'Elysium influence' is Phares' actions regarding the Sacred Shards. We don't know for certain, but Chelle at one point almost seems to suggest that Phares might have been doing ~something~ to, presumably, the castle's Shard.

Note her characteristic 'fan hiding face' expression being used here - the best signal we have that she darn well knows more and is choosing not to comment!

Now, what were the Sacred Shards? Well, they were fragments of the sword Dragalia, forged from Elysium's pactstone. Alberius shattered them to create the Shards.

If they were scattered, it might stand to reason that Elysium is wanting all of them back, to assemble his own power or for some other purpose. Say, like perhaps it would help his latest potential host actually survive the little 'turn into a dragon' thing.

And when the singular castle's Shard has this hint of an unheard-of 'shadow' in it, Aurelius is so worried that he sends Euden to pact to bring back the Mistholt's shard as well as going out himself to get another one:

"Wait! That doesn't make any sense," maybe says the lore-r, "It's not actually Elysium's pactstone that created the sacred shards, it was Primal Mids'!"

Two explanations:

-One, they were originally going to play it straight and that it was Elysium's pactstone, again, this is for what they might have originally been intending instead of how it developed, or,

-Two, that since even ELYSIUM HIMSELF is completely unaware in canon as it was that Mids-0 did a switcharoo,

...It's more than possible that Elysium just hadn't gotten to that knowledge that the Sacred Shards aren't his and was still in the 'gather them' stage.

I would also like to observe that we... never really see the capital swarmed with fiends as is told what would happen if a Shard failed, even before Aurelius is possessed. Even with whatever 'shadow' that had Aurelius so distressed to send Euden out and go himself to fetch two Shards, we see no proof that the Shard itself was truly in danger as Aurelius feared. Thus, it could have been a cosmetic effect meant to spur action from others, like this dramatization and informative diagram shows:

...If this isn't enough crack, let's go deeper!

By that, I mean let me throw more stuff at the wall to see what sticks or resonates with anyone.

First, let's throw out the wyrmprint 'Holywyrm's Advent'. Wyrmprints in Dragalia sometimes came early or late. Whether it was 'Syndicate Mask' outright talking about the Syndicate at launch, or the one wymprint with Nephren, a character that went wholly unreleased, timing was sometimes... off. Referencing things that didn't exist yet.

But Holywyrm's Advent tells a certain story at odds with its debut event, Dawn of Dragalia. It instead regales about Elysium himself coming down from the heavens (also, note how Phares often seems to be floating/flying around and Elysium also likes to fly/float) to look cool and give orders. One small thing about its second stage, though...

So came the Holywyrm, revealing law to all. Thou shalt neither hate, nor kill, nor act out in willful ignorance. And with this decree, order came unto the world.

...Elysium himself didn't really seem to care too much about the truth. He's active in spreading lies and forcing a certain vision of events.

But you know who does? Yup, Phares, the resident 'I want to learn everything' know-it-all in the family. I reckon anyone acting in willful ignorance might get on his nerves greatly to the degree it finds itself in a list forbidding things like murder. Who knows, maybe a new Elysium might be influenced a bit by his newest form if he needed to descend again...

Speaking of, the Summoner. For all we saw of her, the .2 seconds in a summon, we knew 0.00 of her.

...But she sure looks like she'd fit snug in the family, huh? She and Phares even share that blue-gold aesthetics, two running golden threads in their clothes, and a chest ornament.

...Like I said, I know I'm grasping at straws here. I told you I was getting deeper into the crack!

Yes, yes, I know that the Summoner's design is itself reminiscent of the Knight's of Glory design for Tliff, but Tliff was notably brown-haired, from what I'm seeing. Why change it to blond, the signature color of the family as Alberius' genes apparently were pretty good to keep printing his colors 300 years later with great consistency?

Let's just move on to something a little bit more grounded: Phares' Mysterious Moving Book. That one story where the Phares dreaming image came from also has this tidbit, as pointed out again by soumarhea:

Phares' musings regarding wyrmscale and his changing views regarding it all stem from him unexpectedly stumbling upon a book about wyrmscale again, a very old book that he's not seen for a while. How did it move? A spiritual nudge from Elysium to serve as a reminder, perhaps, since we are well aware that even more mundane creatures' ghosts can influence real things? Also note his repeated dream's confusion that his voice is well, his when he transforms - a hint that it would be Elysium more behind the wheel?

Speaking of Phares, let's wind back the clock again to Phanes, the deity that seemed to serve as his namesake.

Phanes is noted for 'hatching from a cosmic egg', a thing that makes me reflexively think of the dragons in Dragalia, who generally seemed to reproduce via eggs as one would expect. It could have been used as a sort of transitional stage for him if the Elysium transformation ever went down. To be fair, though, it's not like we ever had any cases of humans in giant egglike things to transform into dragons before...

Oh wait. Whoops.

In any case, I'll stop with the more crazy observations. This is long and crazy enough as it is.

In summation:

-We have a very strong correlation between Phares, light, and Elysium. Phares' 'light' is additionally 'ascending', growing.

-His design features similar elements to Elysium, ones I might view as suspiciously similar.

-His earlier comments and desires appear at odds with Xenos' interests, as Xenos likely isn't all that fond of dragons and would not support Phares wanting to be a dragon

-Phares has seemingly been doing something to at least one Sacred Shard, things that Elysium thinks are his and might think that he could use.

-Nobody can recognize Elysium in the modern day, except the demon lord that has fought him over 1k years ago.

-The family's dragonblood has very strong ties to Elysium and seemingly originates from him.

-Wyrmscale itself is tied to a person presenting with 'dragon-like' mana

-Phares, mythologically, takes inspiration from a figure just as 'grand' as other central figures in the Ilian church

-Phares' perspective has shifted over time, from initially being afraid of becoming a dragon to welcoming it. Unexplained phenomena are additionally happening around him. Subconscious influence, perhaps?

Let me synthesize this into one possible narrative to wrap this all up...

Ahem.

---

Elysium, through some means, has been killed. Maybe Alberius done it. Maybe he gave his life. But, as such a powerful dragon, his spirit lingers even as his body didn't.

He wants a new one to be reincarnated as he would be as a dragon.

One problem: he's in that pesky category of dragons that seems to evolve through more ordinary creatures (see Kamuy, who awakens through a wolf), like humans. Dragonblooded humans, who already share a strong base of connection with him and his mana.

So he tries to revive through them. He's an important dragon with work to do. But they keep dying. Dragonblooded or not, they're still human. He gets hopeful each time, as his ivory scales start to sprout, but they never can stick the landing and actually transform.

But then he hits Phares, Prospective Wyrmscale Victim 23 (or whatever). And boy, this time there's promise. He might need to be a bit more active. The boy's afraid of dying, afraid of being a dragon. Nudge him a bit, -dragons are cool, after all, and provide hope. Maybe the Sacred Shards would help you him survive?

So he gets his human to start tampering with them on the side, to prompt others to start assembling them for him.

Things go wrong. Even if the biggest chance has done his best to keep his head down and play both sides without really committing to anything, things with the Shards aren't working out.

If they're not working, though, Elysium still needs something powerful to help his little human survive, because 'nothing' isn't cutting it.

One thing might suffice, though, just as holy and right as he is: the Dawnshard.

---

As a final note, I'd like to explain the 'Dawnshard' comment there. Most drama surrounding the Dawnshard centered around Elysium and Nedrick (and Euden's gang as bystanders, of course). Nedrick, notably, probably didn't exist for a while in the writer's minds. Euden not being the true heir was a decision made by the director, not a writer. His existence was probably wholly contrived from the need to make someone be the true 7th scion. But we did see Phares set a trajectory towards the Tree in canon, one that was... threadbarely used. He pops in at random intervals and exits just the same.

I could see him being shoved away in favor of Nedrick, to give him a goal and plan for Euden to contest. Phares as a character was increasingly stressed in the ch.13-14 stretch, almost as if they were planning on focusing on him and his plans... and then Nedrick sweeps in, redirects the plot ch.15-22 around him and how he relates to Euden's identity. Phares vanishes for five chapters in the meantime. Something doesn't quite add up.

If you've made it this far, thanks for entertaining this spot of nonsense. Am I aware that this is likely off the mark? Absolutely. Do I think that there are a number of suspicious elements that make me think that Phares might have had some deeper tie with Elysium, at minimum? YES. But what do you all think?

#dragalia lost #dragalia #dragalia lore #dragalia analysis #phares #There's other things I could throw out as I remember them but I think that's enough nonsense for now.#In any case thank you for riding this latest Crack Dragalia Theory Train; I hope you've enjoyed your stay!#I'm probably forgetting so much to add but I'm shoving this out now!#Look: I just think Elysium might have been more set up as Phares' initial influence to explain his noted weirdness of late by his siblings.#Then they pivoted to Xenos for whatever reason.

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