#and has Stayed away because she realized more issues with the world she grew up in once she left

[kerra-and-company]

prem & any of your ocs ? <:-)

Oooh, okay okay, gladly :D

Chieko has mixed emotions about Prem. On some levels/to some extent she'd understand and relate to him. At the same time, if she knows the full extent of what happened to him, she's wrestling with is this happening in my world as well to others and if I stayed (in DR) could I have helped somehow and about five million other thoughts. So...awkwardness probably? But at the same time they might vibe somewhat.

Minei would like him but also wouldn't really understand him that well. She was blessed by a god as well (Grenth, in her case) but never really felt like he was there for her in the same way Prem thought about Dwayna--in part because said blessing saved her but not her parents. Her relationship with both the Seraph and the Shining Blade would be a longer conversation, but she has reason not to ever fully trust either of them. She's adjacent to a lot of the things that Prem is/was but experienced them from a very different lens. I feel like if they tried to be friends, they might be like puzzle pieces that almost fit together but not quite.

[helplesslyblue77]

Snow White Lily

first story in the ‘fairy tales with a twist’ series i’ve started(because i like creating more work for myself...) 

Pairing: Step Dad!Bang Chan x Reader

Word Count: 12.6k(it got out of hand...)

Warnings: Smut, like not in full but its still there. bad parental figures, slight mommy issues, reader has some self esteem issues, also...this story has so much crying, like seriosly. 

Summary: “Years ago, your father had died and your mother had remarried. You never liked your step father, simply because he was not your real father, and you made no secret of your dislike. Many years later, your mother died and your step father became the temporary reigning monarch. You vowed the feelings you were feeling were anger, but when you fall prey to a mysterious curse you realize maybe those feelings weren't hatred after all…”

Notes: soooooo...sorry this took so long. i was originally planing to post it on the 22nd but my computer died and like a fucking moron i forgot the charger...so yeah, so sorry about that. also Reader is more than legal. i ignored the traditional marriage laws of ‘yee olden days’ in favor of not being icky. her and Chan have a age gap of about seven or eight years or so.(side note but saw the barbie movie and fucking loved it, ‘im just ken’ has been stuck in my head for days now...)

♔♕♔

Let me tell you a story dear reader. A story of love, of loss, and all that is forbidden. Let me tell you of a beautiful princess who befell a dreadful curse. Let me tell you the story of Snow White. Now you may be thinking to yourself, dear reader, “But that is ever so common. How dreadfully boring.” I beg you not to jump to such conclusions, for everything you think you know about this lovely tale is, in fact false, and the real story will only be revealed today. So I urge you to sit back and listen to my voice as I weave you a fantastical story. 

Once upon a time in a kingdom far far away lived a young woman of only sixteen. She was as beautiful, as she was kind, a true princess in her own right. Her loving father, the benevolent king of the land, doted on her. Her mother, a woman of extraordinary beauty but unpleasant disposition, could not touch her as long as the king treasured her. And thus the princess was raised with love from her father and cold indifference from her mother. Each day she became more beautiful. 

Her hair grew long and luscious, her eyes bright with knowledge, and her body grew curves as she matured. As she grew, her thirst for knowledge also grew. Much to the queen's disapproval the king allowed her to take up such thoroughly un-princess-like activities as horseback riding. The queen disproved, but to her satisfaction, the princess also enjoyed activities like embroidery and fashion, so the queen let her wild activities continue. But alas, as our princess turned upon her seventeenth year, her father the king fell deathly ill. Our heroine could only stand by and weep as her beloved father took his last breaths, as the spirits accepted him gracefully into the world of the dead.

Ragged sobs tore through your throat. Your father's hand lay on your own, still warm even though life had drained from his body only moments before. The soft silk of the king's grand bed accepted your tears wholeheartedly, soothing your wet cheeks and stinging eyes. The bed held so many memories for you. Memories of you curled up against your father's warm body as he told you story after story, all in an effort to lure you into a deep and peaceful sleep. Memories of crying in his arms as he stroked your hair and comforted you with sweet reassurances. The realization sank in that he would never embrace or gaze upon you again. 

It took a long time for your tears to stop. The palace staff let you stay at the bed, even as your father's cold dead body was removed from the silken sheets, and life in the palace resumed. Only when the golden hour sunlight poured through the stained glass windows, painting the red silk sheets and the golden bed frame dazzling colors, did you lift your tearstained face from the bed and drag yourself to your feet. You stumbled out of the king's chambers, your bare feet making barely a sound as you walked listlessly down the large corridor with the heavy stares of your ancestors weighing on your back. Your hair hung unstyled around your shoulders, your cheeks were smeared with tears and your eyes red and puffy. You were clothed only in a thin nightgown and normally you would have been scandalized. It was highly improper for a princess to wander about in her underclothes, but you were so wrought with grief you could not even bring yourself to feel shame. 

Your maids were waiting for you as you dragged open the heavy doors to your chambers. You felt their pitying stares on you but for once they didn't say a word about your disheveled state, only drawing you a bath and slipping away as silent as ghosts.

With heavy hands, you rid yourself of your only garment and slipped into the water. The pink rose petals danced across the ripples your body made as you submerged yourself completely. You closed your eyes and felt the heavy hand of despair settle over you. Tear after silent tear slipped down your cheeks, dripping into the water below. Maybe, if you continued to cry like this the gods would take pity on your sorry state and let you simply slip away, let go of this painful life and join your father in the afterlife. Such thoughts were unbecoming of a princess, but you had never been a perfect princess anyway. Too unattractive, too outspoken, nothing like your composed mother, the epitome of a perfect queen. As beautiful as a statue carved in ice and as cold as one as well. 

You knew these thoughts, these ugly self-deprecating thoughts, were not true. But with your father's passing all your insecurities were rearing their ugly heads quite akin to a many-headed monster, dead set on devouring you and only you. You closed your eyes and ever so slowly let yourself sink down until your chin was barely brushing the water. You let the comfort of the water envelope you like the warmth your father had given you, the warmth your mother would never give you. And with one last tear, you rose from the bath, water cascading off your body, and came to a grim realization.

From this day on, you were on your own. And even as the room filled with people, your maids dressing you carefully, even as the mellow chatter filled the room, you had never felt quite so alone. 

The next day your maids prepared you for the funeral. As they slipped the black dress over your head, pulled your hair into a modest bun and painted your face just enough to be suitable for such an occasion you desperately held back your tears. It was no such time for your sadness, you are a princess and to reassure your people you must look only appropriately distraught. There would be no breakdowns, no hysterical crying and screaming, none of the sort. As the maids slipped your black veil over your head and handed you the black lace fan, you take a deep breath, and shove your feelings into a deep well, one covered in moss and ivy, simply for another day. 

A sea of black greets you as you exit the castle, the air filled with the cries of thousands. The day is gray as if even mother nature is distraught. Gaunt faces torn with sadness, the silent tears of men and women, the loud cries of children who are too young to understand but sense the forlorn atmosphere and respond. You take your place on the open carriage, your father's casket laying only a few feet away from you. The casket is grand, black with gold embellishments, but you can't bring yourself to look at it. It makes it all too real. Your mother steps into the carriage, her beautiful face pulled into its usual frozen expression. Her cold gaze drags over you, and you ignore her as she tuts disapprovingly but says no more. Even she can hold her tongue when she needs to. 

The carriage starts its long trek to the royal cemetery, and you feel every rock as it bumps slowly across the road. You watch faces flash by, each hollow with a sadness you feel in your core. The ride to the cemetery is excruciating, as the sky starts to rain, big droplets that splash against the casket, and down your face. You're thankful, as it masks your tears.

The ceremony is grim, and mostly a blur. You watch as a little girl comes forward, and with small hands gently places a single white lily on the casket. More children follow, and soon the dark top of the casket was blanketed in white. Your tears are falling more frequently now, your hat and veil long gone. But these tears, instead of being pure despair, are also interspersed with gratitude. Gratitude for your kind maids, who treated you with such gentle warmth, gratitude for the looks of kindness and understanding you received from your subjects. As you finally leave the cemetery you turn back, laying eyes one final time on the grim black coffin covered in pure white lilies. Your father's favorite flowers were lilies. 

The following weeks are a blur. The world seems to continue even as you morn, and you do your best to continue along with it. Your deep loneliness is pushed to the back of your mind and you soon begin to forget it. Months pass, and soon, your eighteenth birthday approaches. You find yourself engaged to a truly dreadful man, but per your mother's request, you are unable to do a thing about it. And then one day, your life changes forever. 

The royal dining room is large, with high arching ceilings letting a draft permeate through the space. A huge crystal chandelier hangs in the center of the room, filling the large space with shadowy candlelight. Of all of the many rooms in the palace, this one has become one of your least favorites.

The large marble table is laden with food, untouched at the moment and the servants bustle around, serving wine and tidying various lighting fixtures around the room. Your mother, the star of the show, is late. You bristle, as she can't even show courtesy as the host of this sham of a party. Your mother has never been your favorite person, and as long as you have known her, those cold eyes, so dead of feeling, have always scared you.

The large doors slammed open and in waltzed your mother, her head held high. Your eyes narrow as you take in the full picture, the man escorting her to her place. He looks young, maybe eight or nine years your senior, and very handsome. With dark black hair and broad shoulders, he supported your mother as she walked across the room, pulling out the chair for her like a gentleman. Twinkling brown eyes and a sweet smile. Just your mother's type. Anger sang in your veins. How dare she bring in a cheap boy toy so soon after your father's passing. The man tried to send you a smile, but you turned, ignoring him. Your mother’s cold voice echoed in the grand hall.

“Darling, please welcome your new father.”

She didn't ask for your opinion, she simply barged ahead as she always did, as if you didn't matter. It angered you beyond belief, but it also made you feel so insignificant like you were nothing and if you simply went to sleep and never woke up, the world would continue around you, not even stopping to mourn. The room was dead silent as it awaited your response, eyes bearing down upon you. Your mother's cold expectant ones, the knowing eyes of the servants, the eyes of this new man. Emotions roiled in your gut and you stood suddenly, rattling the crockery on the table. You could tell your face was a mess, and you felt the tears start to slip down your cheeks as you ran from the room. 

You heard voices fade away as you slammed the door behind you. The worried voice of the young man and your mother's cold reply. 

“Is she feeling quite well? Was it something I did?”

“Don't mind her foolishness, she is simply a child.”

You fled down the hall, your skirts a whirl around your legs as you ran from the suffocating room. You were not a child, and most definitely not foolish, you seethed to yourself as you yanked open the doors to your chambers. 

But as you entered your room, all the explosive anger drained out of you, leaving only cold acceptance and resentment. It was childish, you mused as your stomach growled in hunger. You crashed face-first on your bed, your hair falling from its updo and pooling messily around your shoulders. 

Your mind was a mess, greatly resembling a dark and stormy ocean, a rocky shore tossed by tumultuous waves. Emotions raced through you, too fast to truly catalog. Angry thoughts of your mother's disrespect for your father's name. How could she bring this young handsome boy toy to the castle, so soon after your father's death? And to introduce him as your father? You vowed to never accept this man, to snub him at every turn and refuse to acknowledge him as your father.

(Somewhere, deep in your subconscious, you felt the vile monster of jealousy rear its head and stomp its many feet threateningly. You were jealous, jealous of your mother's goddess-like beauty, jealous of her power, and most of all, you wished the unnamed man could have been yours instead.)

♔♕♔

On that fateful day, the day your mother got remarried, you were notably absent. Your maids had searched and searched your usual hiding spots, but you were nowhere to be found. You were, in fact, in a very unprincesslike position, thrown over two bales of hay, your body bared to the heavy air of the stable. You lost your innocence to the handsome stable boy as wedding bells filled the air. And as you felt ecstasy, gripping the stable boy's broad shoulders, you couldn't really say you were sorry. At the moment at least. The lasting consequences were a bit of an inconvenience. The absence of such a notable figure, the daughter of the bride at that, sent scandalized whispers spreading around the castle. 

“The Princess did not show her face at her mother's wedding.”

“She must not accept this new man.”

The rumors didn't bother you but what did bother you was your mother's response or rather lack thereof. There was only a slight tick in her perfectly arched eyebrows as she looked down at you, picking at her long scarlet nails. You met her gaze head-on, never one to show fear to a predator. She looked over at you, taking note of your disheveled appearance, the bits of hay tangled in your long hair, the red marks scattered across your neck, and shook her head. 

She tutted disapprovingly. “Darling, if you must partake in those kinds of…” She paused, raising a perfect eyebrow delicately, “Activities…try to restrain yourself when you have official duties.”

You felt like stomping the ground, no matter how childish it was. Your mother always made you feel like this. Like a small, insignificant child, wandering about the world in dumb confusion, and not a fully grown adult woman. You opened your mouth to protest, but your mother waved a hand, dismissing you. You turned, your shoes pattering on the marble floor. You had just reached the door when she spoke last time. 

“And for god’s sake, clean yourself up.”

You slammed the door behind you and made the long trek back down the twisting halls and into your chambers.

All through the short and unpleasant meeting you had avoided meeting the eyes of your new ‘father’, but if you had dared to look, you would have noticed the pangs of hurt and disappointment flashing through his dark eyes. 

♔♕♔

Over the next few months, you did your best to avoid your new ‘father’. And soon, he gave up his little attempts to get to know you and treated you with the exhaustion of a man who accepted the fact that he was not wanted. Infuriatingly, he was never disrespectful of you, never treated you with contempt, and oh, how it angered you. It was hard to justify your hate when he was such a nice person. And so, a year passed, and then, only a few months before your nineteenth birthday, your mother died.

It was a carriage accident. She was on the way to a friend's house when the carriage was struck by lightning and thrown, burning, off the side of a cliff. It was a fitting end for your mother, fiery and dramatic.

 It was sudden, and in your opinion a much-needed breath of fresh air. Maybe you were a truly vile person for thinking this, but your mother had never truly loved you, and you most definitely had returned that hatred. But she was your mother, so even though you loathed it, you couldn't stop the few tears that fell at the funeral. 

Later that night, you go through your mother’s belongings and find a stack of leather journals, her personal diaries. Unsure of whether you want to know what these bound confessionals hold you let them sit untouched for a few hours. Finally, overcome with curiosity you open the volume marked with the earliest date and begin to read. As you read her diaries you let yourself cry in earnest. Your mother was a pitiful person, obsessed with beauty to a fault, and it in the end had doomed her, doomed her to a life of marriage to a man she didn't love, not allowed to love who she truly loved. Thinking back to the funeral you did notice the familiar and yet strange woman mourning your mother from the background. A friend your mother had called on at indecent times of the night. The pieces were beginning to fit together. You wanted to hate her, you really did, but as you read of her heartache, you felt yourself sympathizing with her. You hated that feeling, so you buried it deep in your heart, and burned the remainder of her diaries. As you watched the smoke billow into the air, you cried, your tears watering the vines choking your throat. 

 You watched in grim acceptance as Chan, your ‘father’, accepted the position of temporary monarch, at least until you got married. Truthfully, although you glared fiercely at him, you didn't mind. Being a monarch was a responsibility you were not willing and not ready to shoulder, and Chan was a fair, level-headed person. Those exact qualities were something you despised in him. It was hard to hate a man who was so easygoing and intelligent. But you hated him, you were certain of it. Every thought of him was accompanied by a pounding in your heart like the drumbeat of soldiers marching to war. When you laid eyes on him your body would flush with anger, your fists trembling and your breathing choking you with hatred. If this terrifying feeling was not hatred, you could not tell what it was. And you didn't know if you wanted to know.

♔♕♔

For the next several years, you settled into an uneasy peace, interspersed with dramatic fiery fights that left you running away from it all, on your favorite horse, and disappearing for hours on end. You would always ignore Chan’s worried face when you got back, intent on hating him.

You embroidered, chatted with your friends, rode your horse about the pastures, and begrudgingly met with your dreadful fiance. And just like that, four long years had passed and you were nearing your twenty-fourth birthday when Chan summoned you into his study.

You hated his study, hated how cozy he had made it with warm red curtains and dark cherry wood surfaces, hated the faint smell of woodfire, and Chan's deep musky scent that made you heat up with what you were sure was anger. You avoided this room of the castle at all costs, but even you could not ignore a direct summons, so you stood before him, avoiding his eyes. 

“Name, please sit.”

He waved his hand and you wanted to refuse, but you valued your comfort over your stubborn nature so you sat across from him on the red satin couch, munching away at a few biscuits and avoiding his eyes. You watch Chan’s hands as he places you a cup of tea in front of you, and pours his own. You take a deep breath, the sweet scent of jasmine, your favorite tea, filling your nostrils. Chan sighed, the breath gusting out from between his plump lips as he spoke. 

“I hear you did not attend your usual meeting with your fiance.” You do your best to portray your annoyance with your face as you speak, still not meeting his eyes. 

“Lord Brandish is dreadfully boring and dull, I just could not stand to speak with him again.”

Chan sighs a sigh of frustration, one that only you can manage to pull out of his mouth, and sets his teacup down on the wooden surface of the table. He looks at you and you hate the disappointment leaking from his eyes. 

“Name, you are nearing your twenty-fourth year already, soon it will be time for you to get married and take over rulership of this kingdom.” 

You hate how level-headed and smart he sounds, and how in comparison you sound like a dumb immature child. What makes it worse is the way he handles you, so patient even after you treated him with such disrespect. You slam your tea cup on the table, the hot tea sloshing over your fingers. You hiss at the burn and Chan rushes to your side, his strong hands grasping your own.

“Name are you alright? Does it hurt?”

His hands are big, much bigger than your own, and the comforting warmth envelopes you, spreading from your hands all throughout your body. The warmth scares you, but in a moment of weakness, you let him caress your hands gently, smoothing ointment onto the burns. It takes a moment, but Chan meets your eyes, perhaps wondering why you haven't yanked your hands away and stormed off. You find yourself wondering the same thing and hurriedly yank them away, settling as far away from him as you can. He seems to sink in on himself, returning to his seat and clearing his throat. 

“As I was saying, you cannot miss these appointments, they are vital to your future relationship with your fiance…”

He continues on, and you tune him out, your anger slowly building. How dare he, who is he to command you like this? As usual, anger is your first reaction, and you brandish it both as a shield and a sword.

“I refuse to go.”

Chan stops, his eyes meeting your own, and waves his hand around.

“Name, you're being childish. You must continue to go—”

You interrupt, your heart beating in your ears. 

“I refuse!” 

You hate your fiance, hate his crude remarks, his overall poor attitude, and the way his slimy hands feel up your thighs at every opportunity. Lord Brandish is a truly vile man, but of course, he puts on his mask, playing the part of the perfect gentleman in front of Chan and your servants. 

Lord Brandish appeared to them a perfect man, as handsome as he was kind, and they simply could not understand your animosity towards him. And to you, you would never tell. The mere thought made you feel pathetic, running to your ‘father’, admitting you could not solve all your problems on your own. It felt like weakness, and you hated weakness. So you bottled it up and did your best to treat him with absolute contempt, hoping maybe, he would just refuse to marry you. Sadly, that day had not come. 

Chan threw his hands up in exasperation, as you continued on. Your voice trembled embarrassingly as you jumped to your feet. 

“Who are you, how can you make me go?”

You could see he was finally losing his patience as he stood as well, his hands waving annoyed patterns in the air. 

“Name, I don't understand why you can't just listen to me for once!”

You are yelling by now, your usual defense mechanism, anger, spewing out of your painted lips like knives, flying at their target and embedding themselves deep in his chest. 

“I can't! I won't!”

Your words are basically nonsense, the emotions you had buried deep in your heart, all those tears you had refused to let fall, years and years of loneliness and resentment crawling their way out of your heart. Akin to ugly black vines, the leaves long withered, and dead, weaving their way up your body, tearing through your internal organs, and exploding out of your mouth in ugly sobs. You bite the sobs back, they were a weakness. 

Anger is burning in Chan's eyes. The two of you had indeed had fights before, but for some reason, this particular fight felt different. There was a quality in the air, floating around the two of you like a deadly wind, disturbing everything it touches. You were basically in hysterics by now, hands clutching and tearing at your necklace, and it was no longer about the conversation, no longer about Lord Brandish. This was about something much deeper, something darker, something you weren't ready to talk about yet. 

The vines were back, tearing at your throat and teeth, and in a moment of weakness, you let them out. All your resentment tearing out of your mouth in three final words.

“I hate you.”

They were words you had never dared to say, never quite believed, and the moment they left you, the moment you looked up and saw his face, the anger melted out of you and you burst into tears. It was all too much, the pain on his face, the way he stumbled back slightly, the way his hand trembled as he reached for you. The tears were still burning a hot path down your cheeks, staining the collar of your dress dark with water. You felt pathetic and small, and most of all, you knew at that moment that you didn't hate Chan. You thought it would feel good to finally say those words out loud, that it would feel like a relief. Instead, the feeling that ran through you was regret. The vines that had poured out of your mouth were suffocating you, and all you wanted to do was cry and cry until it all went away. 

You were still so young, so immature, and you felt so, so regretful. You were drowning in your tears, you were suffocating in your clothes and you just wished it would all go away.

Warm arms enveloped you, pulling you into a hard chest, caressing your hair roughly. You began to cry harder, the words coming out jumbled and croaky. 

“Chan, I apologize. I never meant it, I just—”

His deep voice interrupted your choked apologies, his hands rubbing soothing circles in your back. 

“Shhh, I know. I know.”

His kindness, his ever-present kindness, just made your tears fall faster, your hands knotting in the back of his shirt.

“You are just so kind, and I was so horrible to you and I apologize—”

He just stroked your back soothingly, murmured nothing into your hair, and let you cry, years' worth of emotions wetting the thin fabric of his undershirt. It felt good to cry, and those horrible dead vines wrapped around your throat slowly loosened, falling gently around your shoulders, and turning a brilliant vibrant green. Leaves sprouted and you cried and cried, until the sun sank below the distant hills, and you found yourself still laying in his arms, embraced on the floor. It had been so long since you had felt a touch of comfort, and you would have compared it to the times your father had held you like this, but for some strange reason, it didn't quite feel like that.

It felt comforting of course, but you also felt strange. Your cheeks flushed pink, your heart pounding against your ribcage. You had always assumed this strange feeling was rage, but maybe…

You hurriedly put a stop to that line of thought. For now, you should do your best to make it up to Chan and enjoy your time with your ‘father’.

♔♕♔

Over the next few weeks, you spent more and more time with Chan. The two of you would eat each meal together, and you found that he was actually very pleasant company. You found he shared your love of horse riding and promptly planned a picnic. The servants cooed over your relationship, most of them just grateful you were both happy, although you had heard strange whispers and giggles from the maids every time you interacted. You asked them, but they had just giggled and ran off. It was strange but you were too happy to dwell on it as you anticipated your picnic. 

It was a beautiful day for a picnic, the sun smiling down and the wind tossing your hair around your head gracefully. Your favorite horse, Pearlie whinnied and reared playfully into the air as you stroked her pure white coat. 

Pearlie was a beautiful white mare, gifted to you on your fifteenth birthday by your father. You took one look at her pure white coat and promptly named her Pearlie. Your father had dissolved in laughter and patted your head reassuringly. 

Pearlie was docile and playful, and you adored her with your entire being. Her long white main blew gently in the wind, the sun bouncing off her gold embroidered saddle and almost blinding you. You patted her reassuringly.

“Just wait a minute more Pearlie, it's almost time.”

A cough sounded behind you and you whip around, your eyes coming to rest on Chan. Your breath caught in your throat. He looks positively radiant, clothed in a thin white shirt and tight black pants, his hand grabbing the reins of a gorgeous black stallion. His brown curls blew gently in the breeze, he smiled at you, his dimples peeking out. You felt your heart heating up and again, your heart beating insistently in your chest, bumping against your ribcage and begging to be let out, if only to jump into his arms. Much like you wanted to do. A flash of gold caught your eyes and you looked down, blushing as naked flesh graced your eyes. The front of his shirt was undone, and a bit of fair peck peaked out at you. A golden pendant hung around his neck, swaying gently as he walked, drawing your eyes towards its golden glow and the swaths of skin available for your eyes to devour. You hurriedly yanked your eyes away and mounted your horse. Chan joined you, pulling his black stallion up next to yours. He smiled and your heart felt like it would simply rip from your chest and leave you cold and dead. 

“Ready to depart?”

You managed a nod and urged Pearlie into a trot. You let the wind cool your heated cheeks, let it caress your face and toss your hair, and all too soon, you had arrived at your destination.

The lake was special, a spot you had discovered one day, running from your mother's wrath. The sunlight bounced off the pure blue surface, and the trees around it were such vibrant greens, rivaled only by the bright wildflowers littering the ground. The air was warm, and butterflies scattered as you dropped to the ground, Chan following suit.

He let out a noise of amazement. “This place is extraordinary.”

You smiled, happy that he thought so too. “Isn't it? It's my special place.”

You were busy laying out the blanket and missed the look he sent you, so full of happiness tinged only with a slight flavor of longing. 

You plopped down on the blanket, and he joined you, laying out the spread of treats. Small bite-size sandwiches, little cakes and pies, and a large pitcher of iced jasmine tea. It made your mouth water and you delicately picked up a small raspberry pie, taking a bite. Your teeth sank into the flaky pie crust, the slightly tart filling making your taste buds sing in delight. You let out a moan of satisfaction as you finished the treat, reaching for another as Chan laughed. 

“You like raspberries?”

You nod, your mouth full, and swallow a delicious bite. “The kitchen really outdid itself.” It is a picturesque afternoon, and in no time at all the large spread of food is long gone and the both of you are laying back, letting the breeze play gently with your clothes and gazing into the pure blue sky. Birdsong fills the air, and you can see butterflies darting around from flower to flower, never stopping for too long. Faintly, you think you can hear bees buzzing in the distance, and sure enough, across the lake, you spot a bees nest, hundreds of bees buzzing around it, little soldiers devoted to their work. The smell of nature fills your nostrils, wispy clouds arching gracefully and the sun blazing a path across the blue, blue sky. 

Chan breaks the peaceful silence, clearing his throat before speaking. “I am really glad we could do this.”

You nod, turning your body to face him, your arm squishing uncomfortably below your side. He looks positively radiant beside you, beaming at you, his dimples doing horrible things to your heart. You cough and reply. “I'm sorry, I was stubborn.”

Chan sits up, waving his hand in protest. “No, Name I didn't mean—”

You sit up as well, your hair falling around your shoulders and tickling your bare skin. It all just feels so carefree, you feel a smile carving its way across your face. 

“I know, Chan. I know how kind and forgiving you are.” You take a deep breath, stealing yourself to let your emotions show. “I should have noticed earlier. I took my irrational anger out on you and I apologize.”

You're not used to apologizing, and you know your dialogue sounds stiff and formal, but you can't quite think of another way to get it out. 

Chan moves to protest, but in a moment of ill-advised boldness, you place a finger gently on his plump lips, bringing his words to a sharp halt. 

“Chan. Let me apologize for this at least.”

He nods, and your hand falls reluctantly from his lips, finger hot from the contact. You're left looking at him, your eyes staring deep into his own deep brown ones and falling down, down, down. The world around you disappears, the birdsong fading away to nothing until all you can see is his face, highlighted by the sinking sun, his tousled brown hair, and those disastrous dimples disappearing as his smile fades, his eyes dipping from your own to focus on your lips. You're frozen in time, filled with a longing you finally understand. Those symptoms you for so long assumed were hatred were in fact desire. You long for his touch, for his warmth, and shamefully, for his love. The metaphorical vines curled lovingly around your neck begin to bloom, white lilies falling from their stems and plopping into your lap. The sun suddenly seems to shine just a little brighter, the leaves seem a more vibrant green, and the birdsong returns, louder and more beautiful than ever. You are floating, dancing in your happiness, the relief of realization rendering your body light, and now you're soaring, dancing on the cloud tops, but then, you fall. The guilt pours in, guilt over your love, your love of your mother's husband, a man who probably still devoted himself to her, even in her passing. And you know you could never compare to your mother, her beautiful face still etched in your mind, her cold expression glaring at you from her perch on the wall, her face immortalized in a royal portrait, frame made of solid gold. And you know, that you can never have this man, the man you want and have wanted for longer than you were willing to admit to yourself. And with that, the sun sinks below the hills, and the vibrant colors leak out of your surroundings. You break eye contact, turning away and standing up. 

Chan jumps to his feet. “Time to go?”

You nod, forcing a smile, and grip Pearlies reins in your hand. You turn, away from Chan and gaze out over the lake. This spot will be forever intertwined with bittersweet memories, a place where you came to realize your unrequited, very forbidden love. A heavy warm hand lands on your shoulder and you turn, Chan's worried face greeting your own. You find yourself mesmerized by his lips as he speaks. 

“Name, are you alright?” He scratched the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically and adorably shy. You took a deep breath and put on a smile. “I'm fine Chan, just a little tired.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes studying your face, and you did your best not to feel a little self-conscious. But then, he was done and you turned away, mounting Pearlie as he jumped atop his black steed, and you set off back to the castle. 

The ride back was silent, the orange glow of the sunset bathing the hills in fire, and the fireflies had come out to play. It was a beautiful scene, but you couldn't bring yourself out of your somber mood and the two of you rode home in tense silence. 

♔♕♔

Later that night, as your maids bustled about, lighting the lanterns one by one until the room was bathed in candlelight, you noticed the strange new addition to the room. A large mirror. Your head maid noticed where your eyes were going and helpfully chimed in. 

“Was your mother”s, she left it to you.”

You frowned. It didn't look like anything your mother would own. It was old, the glass slightly foggy and no matter how you strained your eyes, you could not make out a reflection. The rim of the mirror was gaudy, gold with inlaid jewels, and for some reason, as you stared at it you got the unpleasant sensation of eyes on you, watching you as you crept closer. 

You stretched a shaking hand out, and just as your fingers brushed against the surface, the fog within the mirror began to swirl violently. You jumped, pulling the offending hand back and clutching it to your chest as the fog congealed, coming together until a face was visible. You looked away hurriedly. It wasn't as if the face was ugly, no, you would rather describe it as unnerving. It was a woman, her face what you could only call perfection, and it was a woman who you knew far too well. Your mother's perfect face stared back at you, immortalized inside this strange mirror even as her corpse rotted in the graveyard far from the castle. The maids were gone now, and as you stepped closer to the mirror a breeze came in through your open window, ruffling your silk nightgown and tossing your hair. The woman in the mirror spoke first, but the voice that exited its perfectly painted mouth was not your mother’s, no, it was a strange amalgamation of voices, male and female, blending together in a truly unpleasant way. 

“You must be my new master.”

The face in the mirror moved as it spoke, almost as if your mother was here in front of you again, and you hated it. You responded, trying to hastily tidy your unruly hair. You always felt so small next to your mother, so small and unattractive. 

“Your master?”

The face in the mirror never changed, no emotion ever crossed its stone-cold face and the longer you stared at it the more dazed you felt, as if a heavy fog was suddenly blanketing your mind. The world seemed to fade away and all you could see was the mirror. The mirror spoke again, its words cutting like ice, pulling your insecurities out of your mind and weaponizing them against you. 

“You can be the object of his affection.”

Every emotion was heightened, and you felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes as a sudden and intense desperation enveloped you and you rushed forward, gripping the sides of the mirror.

“Tell me! Tell me this instant!”

Your voice sounded desperate even to your ears but for some reason you didn't care. The mirror’s perfect face curved into a stunning smile, as its ruby lips parted one final time, and a poem fell from them. 

You repeat the first line of the poem as you exit the castle, your heels clicking much too loudly on the cobblestone path. 

“Enter the woods, under moonlight so bright…” You lift your eyes to the sky and breathe in relief as the moon decides to peek out from behind the clouds, lighting the path in front of you. 

You were always told never to enter the woods, and you hear the words echoing in the back of your mind, but the strange fog in your brain quickly blankets it, and you step off the cobblestones and onto the well-worn path into the woods. You reach into your pocket, pulling out a compass as you recite the next few lines in the poem. 

“A choice will be yours, surrender tonight, Walk to the north, not south or not west.” The woods are dark, the trees foreboding, their branches reaching desperately toward the moonlight. It's silent, unnervingly silent as you walk off the beaten path, your shoes touching damp grass, padding softly across its surface, and leaving crushed beaten grass in your wake. Not a sound crosses your lips, as you walk on, through the large trunks of huge black trees. You look at the little paper where you hastily scrawled the mirror's words, and read the next line.

“Until in a grove, she grants your request…”

Sure enough, ahead of you, your eyes catch on a break in the trees. The dark trees gave way to green moss and stones, and the moonlight poured into the clearing, illuminating the strange statue in the center. It's made of a peculiar black stone and almost shines by itself. It's big, much taller than you and the edges are rough, like it was hastily carved. It mesmerizes you, as you stare deep into the black interior you suddenly feel the urge to touch it. You move your hand, almost in a trance, and brush the rough surface. The surface is smooth, and ice cold, and as your fingers leave its surface it begins to melt away slowly, black goo melting off its surface and sizzling into the ground. The goo swirls, and the ground below it seems to melt away until a shining glass statue is revealed. The statue is large, almost your height, and of a woman. Her face is covered with a strange mask, round and smooth and without any features at all, her hair cascades down her shoulders, reaching all the way to the ground. She is clothed in a skin-tight gown, with a revealing slit up the side. Her feet are bare upon the grass. In her hand, she holds a single object, a shining golden apple. The paper in your hand flutters to the ground, long forgotten as you stare wide-eyed at the apple. Its shimmering surface mesmerizes you and you find yourself reaching out, and gripping its smooth surface in your hand. 

It's cold, and as you bring it to your lips, you have the vaguest feeling of foreboding. In the back of your disordered mind, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Chan, screaming at you to stop, to put the apple back and turn, leaving the woods for good. But the mirror's promise echoes in your mind and you open your mouth, taking a single bite of the apple. The skin is thin, the flesh just the right amount of sweet and tart. The apple is delicious, and as you chew it, you suddenly hunger desperately for more. Your gaze zeros in on the apple and you bring it to your lips again, but just like that, it slips from your hand. You look around in confusion, only for your vision to start to fade around the edges, your hands are suddenly limp and as your consciousness fades, you have one clear realization. 

“I should have never listened to that mirror.”

The last sensation you feel is the soft grass beneath your legs, as you fall gently to the ground, and slip into a dark, dreamless sleep.

♔♕♔

Something was wrong. Chan could feel it, even as the clock ticked on endlessly, as the words scrawled on documents began to blur over, as you waltzed through his mind, your smile consuming his every thought. It was unhealthy, and so, so wrong. This woman, this young, beautiful, and when he had enjoyed the chance to know you, kind woman was someone he could never even touch. This woman who he lived too close to, was a woman forever out of his desperate hands, a woman he could never have, never kiss. The thought killed him. And that was why Chan took the long journey to your room, down the dark empty halls, past the portraits that judged his every move, and knocked quietly on your door. It was late, he knew that. Much too late for him to be visiting you, and Chan felt his face heating up as he realized how improper it looked. Him, a young man, visiting a young woman in the dead of night. But, he reassured himself as he stood in front of your door, his first thoughts had been innocent, a desire to talk to you, to laugh with you, even if his later thoughts had turned less proper. 

The silence worried him, and he knocked again, harder. The door cracked open, light pouring into the dark hallway and Chan frowned. You were up? At this hour? He realized how hypocritical that sounded, here he was, awake and trying to visit you, but in his defense, he hadn't been thinking of anything besides your smile. The smile he had glimpsed this afternoon, shining like the sun after rainfall. Chan had thought he might die. You looked radiant among the flowers, a forest fairy masquerading as a human, a being so perfect and radiant he might die if he dared to lay a hand on her skin. He truly wondered if he had died and gone to heaven. Your smile was like the sun peeking its way from behind the clouds after a storm, the storm of your hatred. Chan never wanted to be on the receiving end of your hatred ever again. 

He pushed the door cautiously, and peaked around it, taking in the fully lit candles and the strange mirror standing in the corner of the room. He stepped inside, taking the opportunity to look around your room, usually a forbidden place for him. Your room was large, with high sloping ceilings giving it a breezy feel. Your window was open, curtains flapping in the wind, and the moonlight poured into the room, illuminating the white sheets on your bed. 

Your perfectly made bed. Your dreadfully empty bed. 

Chan ran to the window, his heart pounding in his chest. What was going on, where had you gone at this late hour? He feared the worst, even as he leaned out the window, and spotted the imprints in the grass. Footsteps. His body froze, ice water coating his insides and dread in his thoughts. Where could you be going at such a late hour. He prayed you had not headed into the woods. The woods were home to many things, some good, some terrifying, and the thoughts of what could happen to you turned his mind to stone. You were the  woman he loved above all else, he could not let you die. Chan knew it was illogical. He should have waited until morning, gathered an armed search team, and departed into the woods, but he could not help the way he ran down the stairs, and flung open the castle doors, running barefoot into the woods. 

Alas, his searching was for nothing, because as he stumbled back in the morning, sleep deprived and emotional, he still had not found you.

♔♕♔

And thus, six uneasy days passed. Chan pulled together a search team. He insisted on coming along, even if the head butler protested, and the team of strong volunteers turned the woods upside down in search of you. Night after sleepless night passed, and the dark circles under Chan’s eyes grew and grew. The servants whispered, their concern for their employers spread to the townsfolk and finally on the morning of the seventh day, they received a tip from a huntsman. A tip that told of a woman, asleep in a glass coffin, deep in the woods.

Armed with this information, they stumbled through the woods, exhausted men led by their relentless king, a man driven by a love he didn't even realize. And as the sun set on the seventh day, Chan found you.

The clearing was bathed in the rays of the dying sun, the light illuminating the intricate glass coffin taking up the center of the clearing. And laid in that coffin, still as death was you, still clothed in your white nightgown, hands crossed gently over your chest, holding a perfectly preserved golden apple. Chan feared the worst, stumbling to the coffin with a cry and throwing it open. His hands desperately felt for a pulse. Fear poured over his heart, as he felt nothing…

…a pulse, faint but definitely there. Chan collapsed to his knees, his head falling against the edge of the coffin, his hands desperately clutching the glass sides, and cried.

And that's how the rest of the search team found him, crouched against the glass coffin, tears streaming down his cheeks, knees grass-stained and dirty, looking nothing like the king he was, only a man brought to the ground with relief. 

They moved you to the castle, careful not to disturb you, and laid you to rest in your bed. Only then did Chan allow himself to sleep, although his dreams were nightmares, plagued with you, encased in glass, dead to this world. He awoke the next morning and rushed to you, certain you were awake but when he arrived in your room, took in your form, now changed into a white silk nightgown, still fast asleep. The maids shook their heads, and he rushed to your side, desperately calling your name. He tried and tried, but you remained as silent as death, faint pulse the only evidence that you were even alive, and he finally collapsed, sinking into a chair the maids had provided and taking your cold hand in his own. He took you in, your hair, now washed courtesy of the maids, fanning around your head, your eyes closed, lashes kissing your cheeks, your pretty mouth, open slightly as you breathe. Your skin was cold to the touch, and you made barely a sound in the room, cold and silent as death.

Cold and silent as your mother had been. 

Chan was never in love with your mother, and in turn, she had never loved him. It had been like a contract for her, to hide her secret lover from the public. She said lover, but Chan was not sure your mother could truly love anymore if the way she treated you was any indication. 

Chan still remembered the day the queen had shown up to his small house, in all her royal glory, and asked him to marry her. He had agreed, if only to support his siblings, and moved into the castle. He remembered the day he had met you, a woman so beautiful and full of life, so bright as she glared at him, so angry as she ignored him, such an opposite of the woman he married. He had admired you since the day he met you, your glowing beauty seemed to light up the room, your smile like the sun after a rainy day. Even your anger was vibrant, so much better than your mother's cold treatment of all living things. But soon he hungered for more. He longed to be on the receiving end of your smiles, to no longer be subject to your hatred. And then, one day, his wish had come true. After years and years of receiving your glares, one of your brilliant smiles had been reserved specifically for him. Not for the stable boy you favored, not for the new butler who the maids gossiped about, not even for your gossipy friends who smirked in his direction, no, this smile was reserved simply for him. It was karma, he decided, that the night after he received such a privilege, you disappeared for seven days, and then refused to wake up. 

Chan brought your ice-cold hand to his lips and pressed one gentle kiss upon your soft skin. Tears fell silently down his cheeks and dropped onto your hand. Chan prayed your fingers would twitch, that your eyes would flutter, and then open slowly, that your skin would warm and the color would return to your cheeks, but alas, no such thing happened. Your eyes remained closed, your skin remained cold, and the only thing he felt was a tap on his shoulder. The doctor had arrived. 

♔♕♔

The only sound in the room was the flip of paper, the rustling of pages turning. Chan glanced up from his book, hoping that your eyes would open, but alas you remained as still as ever. The doctor had come and gone, unable to do a thing, and the maids, having grown tired of his constant staring, had provided him with some books to occupy his mind, at least until the next doctor came to visit. Much to his chagrin, he had found himself being sucked into the world of the characters. He found himself sympathizing more and more with the main character, a man who was in love with a woman he could not have. He turned the pages eagerly, absorbed every word, and found the world melting away. He understood John, the main character in the novel, as he pinned over Elain, the young woman he loved and soon the characters were no longer John and Elaine, but they became Chan and you, and he imagined every interaction as you and him. It helped him escape, helped him hold hope that one day you would wake up and interact with him again. 

The book had a happy ending. John and Elaine got married and moved into John's large house together. Chan felt satisfied as he put down the book, leaning back in his chair. He could picture your wedding. You would look stunning in white, just as you looked now. And he would watch you walk down the aisle, smiling from ear to ear. Your vows would be exchanged, and you would retreat to the wedding bedroom. Chan felt his cheeks heat up, but he continued with his fantasy even as he glanced around nervously. There you lay, asleep and peaceful on the bed. He could not dare to do such a thing in front of your sleeping form, so he stood up and turned the chair around. It was much better to face a wall and do such a thing as touch himself thinking of you, right in front of your sleeping face. He still felt like a degenerate as he imagined the scene. 

You would tease him, you liked to tease. He could imagine it now, your first layer of skirts falling gently to the floor, leaving you only in your thin underlayer. He could see your nipples, perky and rubbing against the fabric. 

Chan gulped, palming himself slightly over his pants. It was embarrassing how quickly he rose to hardness, over a simple fantasy. 

You would let the last layer fall, and sit on the bed, your perfect body on display for his greedy eyes. He watched as you smirked, spreading your legs and bearing your core for his eyes. Chan gulps as you beckon him forward, falling to his knees before your core. 

The Chan in reality refuses to actually pull himself out of his pants, electing instead to press harder, his palm doing its best in the circumstances as he falls back into his fantasy. 

You grip his hair, smirking down at him, and with enough force to startle, shove his face into your—

A knock sounds on the door, interrupting his dirty fantasies and Chan hurriedly does his best to hide his hardness, pulling himself as the maids lead the next doctor in. If they notice his disheveled appearance and how the chair is now facing the wall, they don't say a thing. 

♔♕♔

For the next few days, the castle was abuzz with worry. The news spread fast, and soon villagers were lining up with gifts. Everything from jewelry to a bouquet of wildflowers given to him by a small girl, who sobbed and asked if the princess would wake up. Chan did his best to reassure her, even if on the inside he felt like crying. 

He summoned every doctor he could, but none of them seemed to have an answer. You seemed to be stuck in time. You didn't need to eat, or drink, and you didn't change one bit, from the moment they found you laying inside that glass coffin, deep in the woods. Hours turned to days and you didn't wake up. Chan despaired. He posted desperate notices around the kingdom, begging for any information regarding endless sleep. He tried any and every doctor he could, he prayed to any god available, but alas, nothing. 

Days turned to weeks, and the word seemed to move on around him, even as you slept, so beautiful but so lifeless, and even as Chan despaired. He did his best and ran the kingdom like he was supposed to, but everyone could tell his heart wasn't in it. His eyes looked glazed and distant, and he spent all his free time sitting by your bed, holding your hand. The villagers and nobles cooed at his dedication, calling it the love story of the century, but the servants did their best to keep the rumors from him. A month passed, and Chan feared you would never wake again. He was so close to giving up, when one day, a strange woman entered the palace, and with her dirty robes, she brought his hope. 

The woman appeared old, but with witches, you could never be so sure. She smiled at Chan, looking calm and complacent, a sharp difference from Chan’s harried look. She was wearing a long red dress, a woolen cloak covering most of her body. When she first appeared, it had been covered in mud, but between the time she had entered the door and Chan had brought her to your room, the cloak looked brand new. 

Chan spoke first. “Do you think you can help her? She won't wake up and I don't know what to do anymore—”

The witch raised a manicured finger, and Chan stopped talking, effectively shushed. The witch spoke, and her voice echoed in your large chambers, years younger than her appearance. 

“I'll see what I can do.”

Chan blinked, and when he looked back at her, she had de-aged, looking closer to thirty than ninety. Her blond hair, cut in a sharp bob at her chin, peaked out from her hood as she smiled at him. Witches and their disguises. Her blue eyes lined heavily with black, took in the situation and Chan watched nervously as she walked to the bed where you lay, still as cold and silent as ever before. She looked at you for a second, her eyes scanning your features, frozen in time before her eyes moved to the golden apple, sitting inconspicuously on your small bedside table. Chan frowned as she picked it up, turning it around in her hands, her nails filed to lethal sharp points, and painted a dangerous red. He had never given the apple much thought, too concerned with your state, but as she turned it around he noticed the one, small bite, perfectly preserved, on one side. 

Chan can't help himself, he rushes forward. 

“Is that what it is? Is she poisoned? Is she never going to…”

He can't bear to say it and lets the sentence trail off. The witch stares at him for a moment, chewing something in her mouth, before she takes pity on his sorry state and sets the apple down, turning to him. 

“Yes, cursed apple. But…”

She turns and walks to the strange mirror that had been sitting in the corner of your room. Chan watches in horror as she lifts a pointy heeled shoe, and gracefully kicks the mirror. The surface shatters, the pieces clattering to the ground like rainfall, and Chan opens his mouth to protest but shuts it as he watches. 

The pieces have risen in the air, distorting and twisting until they crash to the earth, and with a strange howl, one that sounds a lot like despair and fills his soul with sadness, they vanish. The room seems automatically lighter, like a disturbing presence has been removed from the room, and Chan suddenly felt a bit more optimistic. The witch turned to him with a sigh, tossing the apple in the air. Chan watched it spin, slightly mesmerized. 

“Alright, it seems like that vile mirror convinced your lover to depart into the woods and eat this apple.”

Chan frowned, questions spilling from his mouth. 

“How did the mirror do that? What kind of mirror was it and why would it do that? Also—”

The witch held up a hand, silencing him as the apple spins in the air again, coming to rest in her manicured hand. 

“It's a cursed mirror. A vile human soul, doomed to trick unsuspecting people into death.”

How did such a thing end up in your possession? He can only imagine the horrible thoughts it must have put into your head. Chan’s horror must show on his face because she chuckles a little as she continues. 

“It must have played on her insecurities, impersonated a person she feared or respected, and convinced her to go into the woods.”

The witch moved over to the window as she spoke, and drew her arm back, and with all her might, threw the golden apple into the sunlight. It spuns in the air for a moment, before it exploded with a bang, disappearing into thin air. Chan staired. The witch laughed.

“That apple,” She said, dusting her hands of imaginary dirt. “Is a cursed item. It's the usual thing,”

The witch held up two fingers, and pitched her voice, mimicking someone. “Cursed to sleep until she receives true loves kiss,’ it's so cliche but some witches still rely on the old stuff—”

“True love’s kiss?”

The witch looked at him like he was stupid. “Yes, true love's kiss. Should be easy for you.”

She pulled the hood of her cloak up, and Chan watched as wrinkles grew on her fair skin, her hair turned a dark gray, and she aged about fifty years. Her voice was still clear and young when she spoke. “Unfortunately, I have to go.” she waved an old wrinkled hand and smirked at him. “Good luck.”

And with that, she was gone, like she was never even there, leaving Chan to deal with the bombshell of a declaration she dropped on his head. 

Chan deliberated long and hard about this dilemma, his brain in conflict with his heart, worry constantly etched across his handsome face. He knew his kiss would work, he loved you more than he thought he had loved anything before. But as much as he longed to press his lips to yours, he was too afraid of the consequences, afraid of what would happen when his kiss worked and you opened your eyes. Afraid of the disdain that would cross your face once you realize your stepfather had inappropriate feelings for you. The thought of your face carved into a mask of disgust made his heart ache desperately in his chest, but he would rather live a life with your hatred than live a life without you entirely. 

He sank into the chair beside your bed and turned his eyes on your still form. You were so beautiful, but silent and cold as a statue and Chan longed for anything, your laughter, your screams, even your sobs, anything but this cold shell of a woman laying deathly still on the bed. Your lips, slightly parted in sleep, taunted him. Blushed a pretty pink, curved and sultry and teasing him even now. You were a temptress incarnate, and Chan would do his best to resist your charms until the very end. You were carefree, wild and the exact opposite of your mother, and as a result you had no shortage of admirers. Your fiance, who in Chan's opinion was a jerk, the stable boy, a handsome new butler, a young lord at a ball. And some of them, you favored them back, disappearing off for secret trists that your mother had scoffed at and Chan wished desperately that he was one of those men you snuck off with. He still remembered the fateful time he had accidentally heard you, panted moans and pretty cries painting a forbidden picture. You sounded so beautiful, and Chan had longed desperately that he was the one teasing those sounds out of you, not some upstart young lord. He was ashamed at the way he leaned against the wall, guiltily listening to your symphony of sounds, unable to bring himself to leave until you reached your high, sneaking off to take care of himself. It was a shameful memory, one he blushed at even now, even as he desperately prayed to any god available, and leaned forward, pressing his lips to your own in a chaste kiss. A kiss so full of longing, a forbidden taste of something he could only pine for, a woman constantly out of his reach. 

♔♕♔

The world was a sea of black. It stretched forever, all you could see. Your body felt weightless, and you blinked, looking around for something, anything. But there was nothing. You faintly remembered an apple, a mirror, and then the sensation of falling, but your memory after that was blank. You decided to walk forward, looking for anything. Your feet made no sound as you pattered across the nothingness, and after what seemed like only a few minutes, your vision began to waver. You felt a creeping sensation on your back, and a voice you could not hear urged you to run, run away from the thing behind you. You knew subconsciously that if it caught you, you would never wake up. And so you ran. 

You flew, your desire to wake propelling your feet, even as your throat begged for water and your legs burned. Somewhere in the distance, you saw light, and in front of that light, a figure. A familiar figure, a figure of a man you loved with all your heart. You ran and ran, and the Chan in the distance held out a hand that you longed to grab. Your feet moved impossibly faster, and you practically flew towards him, even as the sound of slithering behind you grew louder, the creeping sensation sending shivers up your spine. And as you came into the light, as you grabbed his bigger hand in your own, as he pulled you into a warm hug, the world around you faded. The strange dreamscape blurred, and you opened your eyes to the familiar colors of the ceiling, in your private chambers. You blinked, and looked around, your eyes catching on the figure seated beside your bed. Chan looked haggard, his eyes were highlighted by dark circles and his hair was a mess, but the relief in his eyes trumped it all. Your mouth felt dry as you opened it to speak. 

“I'm hungry.”

You watched in confusion as tears slipped from Chan's eyes, and he tackled you on the bed, hugging you tight to his chest. You fell back against the bed, your back hitting the silky covers as pounds of muscle crashed onto you, suffocating you in his embrace. You melted into it, albeit a little confused, and stoked his large back as he cried into your nightgown. Your voice cracked as you spoke again. 

“What's wrong?”

The door crashed open, and your head maid and bedroom maids crashed into the room. As soon as they lay eyes on you they were running to the bed, tears running down their faces. You were beyond confused but no one bothered to answer your questions. It took a long time for everyone to stop crying, and the maids promptly heard your complaint and brought you a bowl of warm soup and bread. Chan, still sniffling, sat in the chair by your bed and looked deliciously disheveled and desperate. You munched happily on your food as the castle staff piled into your room, and answered their questions.

Chan asked the first question. 

“Why did you go into the woods?”

You remembered the thoughts that had sent you into the woods, and now that you thought back on them it seemed oftly extreme. It seemed the mirror might have been the cause of them. You chewed thoughtfully as you answered. 

“This strange mirror, it told me I could be beautiful…”

You play with your spoon, a little ashamed and blushing deeply as you continue. 

“I was a little erratic, I am in love with this man and so I listened to the mirror’s rambles, even if they were irrational.”

You're too focused on your embarrassment to notice the giggles and looks traded among the staff, the way your stepfather's shoulders sink slightly, his disappointed gaze. Because he could never imagine that you love him, you must be in love with some young lord, a man who doesn't deserve your love, who could never give you what you want. He shook his head, putting a stop to that presumptuous line of thought. He knows you deserve someone younger than him, unmarried and full of youthful energy to match your carefree spirit. 

You keep glancing at Chan out of the corner of your eye, looking for any change in his expression, and you watch in delight as his shoulders sink, and his face darkens. You feel a flicker of hope spark in your chest, small and pathetic, but there nonetheless. You decide to test the waters a little. Clasping your hands together, you keep your eye on Chan as you speak. 

“I'm just so in love, I think of him every day, and I long to spend the rest of my life with him.”

You feel a little bad as you watch Chan’s face fall, watch his hands clenched in his lap. The small flame in your heart sputters and grows, roaring to life and heating your heart in a joyful fire. You are now sure he loves you back. He sends you a strained smile, trying to be encouraging. 

“That's, um, wonderful!” The servants giggle behind him, trading secret smiles hidden behind their hands. 

“So, when will I meet this wonderful man?” The emphasis on wonderful makes you want to laugh, and you choke back your giggles as you continue. 

“You know him.” Confusion flashes across his face. “I do?” The staff is muffling laughter behind their hands, but Chan remains ever oblivious. You smirk. “Yes, very well.” 

You think he might be the only person in the room, stuffed to the brim with castle staff, that hasn't gotten it. His brow furrows as he thinks. “Is it Lord Brandish?” You emphatically shake your head. He frowns. “I really can't think of anyone else…”

Your head butler coughed, running a hand through his perfectly combed silver hair. His voice is resigned as he speaks. 

“It's you, sire.”

The room is dead silent. Chan stands, his eyes wide as he turns to the head butler. “Really?” The butler nods, and Chan turns again, tripping over the leg of the chair and crashing onto the bed, narrowly avoiding your soup. Your head maid rescues the food from your lap and you grin as Chan blushes, pulling himself into a sitting position. His voice is uncharacteristically shy as he speaks. 

“Is it really me?” Your beaming as you nod and a hopeful smile lights up his handsome face. You throw the covers off your legs and stand, your feet hitting the soft carpet with a thud. 

Chan takes your hand in his own, and bows before you, bringing his full lips to it. Your heart pounds as he presses a delicate kiss to it. He straightens to his full height “I love you more than you can imagine.” Someone coos in the background, but all you can see is the handsome man in front of you, your hand still clasped in his. He drops your hand, and you feel his hand heavy on your waist, his other hand coming up to caress your jaw, tilting your head up. His voice is so soft as he speaks. 

“When I looked into your eyes, my heart felt like it would escape my chest and run into your arms.” Your own heart feels the same, and you wonder if you might die. He's closer to you now, and all you can see is him. Around you, the servants begin to creep out giggling and smiling as they leave. The door shuts behind the last of them but neither of you notice, too caught up in each other's eyes. His voice is raspy now, and his gaze drops to your lips, darting back up to your eyes and back down. “At that moment… I knew I loved you.” 

He's so cheesy, and if any other man was saying such sugar-coated words, you would laugh in his face. But when Chan says it, your heart pounds in your chest and your cheeks burn with the fire of your heart. You suppose everything is different with him. His breath hits your lips, intermixing with your own as he comes ever closer. His voice is a whisper when he speaks. 

“Can I kiss you?” You smile, your hand winding around to grip his shoulders, as you reply. “Please kiss me.”

And so he does. 

♔♕♔

Your wedding is a joyous occasion, the townspeople clap happily, and as you kiss your new husband, under a rain of lilies, clutching the precious flower in your hands, you think back on what an odd set of events had preceded it. To think, in a way, you had your mother to thank for your husband. After all, it was she who brought Chan into your life, her death that had indirectly caused the two of you to have an opportunity to become closer and her magic mirror that pushed you to go trecking into the woods in the first place. And as the joyous wedding bells rang through the air, as you and Chan boarded the carriage and sat side by side, your head on his shoulder as the driver whipped the horses into a trot, you found it in yourself to be thankful to her. For although she had caused you a great deal of pain, in the end it had shaped you into the person you were today, a person full of flaws, yes, but those flaws just made you human. 

“Why are you so quiet. Having second thoughts?”

You giggled, and snuggled closer into your husband's strong embrace. “I would never.” You replied, and tilted your head up for a kiss. 

And as your lips locked, and you drove off into the sunset, you were sure this was the happiest you had been in your whole life, but you knew, there were only happy days to come. 

♔♕♔

taglist: @angieknght, @moasworld, @lofasofabread, @smhlino, @elizalabs3, @orrrgannnic

[xxstraykidsaikoxx]

Relationship W/ Hyunjin

ᰔThis one is kinda a long one since im a sucker for the romance genre so i apologize in advance if most of this is too much! 😅

WHEN THEY STARTED DATING: April 23, 2020

RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC: Rivals-to-Lovers

AGE DIFFERENCE: 2 Years

ZSIGN COMPATIBILITY: Aries & Pieces

HOW THEY MET:

After Aiko got accepted into the survival program, Chan introduced her to the members and most of them hit off. Most of the members felt a little off having a girl, especially one as young as Aiko, apart of their group. These members included Hyunjin. The first thing he said to her face when she walked in the room was, "Who's this girl?" obviously Ai was put off and that was when their rivalry started.

HOW THEY CAUGHT FEELINGS:

HYUNJIN: Hyun initially caught feelings after spending some more time with and around Aiko and realized how endearing and genuine she is. He wanted someone who would sympathize with him, someone who would share his burdens and pains with him, and Aiko had checked off those boxes without fail. He at first thought his feelings were just going to last a day or two but no, his feelings soon grew into a strong love for Aiko, he just wasn't sure when was the right time to admit it.

AIKO: For Ai, it was love at first sight. She thought he was gorgeous but as soon as he opened his mouth she wasn't impressed. But with her too, after spending more time with Hyunjin she found herself getting more and more fond of him. Although she was under the impression that he didn't like her, which caused her to push her feelings for him down and away so she wouldn't loose focus on her current projects.

HOW/WHEN THEY CONFESSED:

It was like something straight out of a Kdrama. It was a stormy day in April when it happened. The two had gotten into a small argument after Hyun asked/demanded they talk about their feelings and Aiko being raised in an emotionally unavailable household, she's not as receptive/willing to openly talk about how or what she's feeling. After Hyun kept insisting they talk about their feelings Aiko got overwhelmed and stormed out into the rain with Hyun following her. Long story short they confessed their love for each other and had their first kiss in the rain and lived happily ever after.

DATING IN SECRET:

A week after they started dating they had a long discussion on how to proceed with their form relationship. Both had agreed to at least tell Chan since he was their leader and unsurprisingly Channie was happy for them and helped them formate a plan since at the time in 2020, they were still under a dating ban (JYP has a 4 or 3 year dating ban I believe). The other members were also informed and all were accepting and since then, Hyun and Ai have been inseparable. Soon though, STAYs had noticed how close they've gotten, which was out of the normal because of their for mentioned rivalry and how much they seemed to dislike each other, which created the ship 'AiHyun'.

HARDSHIPS:

Despite their fairytale like relationship, it's not without its problems, but luckily they have the ability to talk it out sometimes. The small arguments they have are usually started when someone genuinely messes up or when the other's health and safety is being put at risk. Aiko never likes going to bed angry at each other, so she works hard to resolve the issue as soon as possible. Outside of small arguments, both of them being idols brings in a whole another world of problems. One of those being Hyun's unfortunate hiatus. This was the longest they'd been apart from each other practically since they debuted together. (I'll go more into this in a future post).

TEXTS TOGETHER:

ᰔ honestly i may make a part two of some sorts since there's more layers to their relationship but this is already as long as it is so, lemme know if this is really in need of a part two and if so what to include in it!

MASTERLIST

[istadris]

Super Mario AU heavily inspired by the Lion King (because drawing it will take me forever and I want to throw that idea in the world).

In this AU, Bowser wasn't king of the Koopas (at least not at first) and most importantly, he and Mario were close friends.

Mario met Bowser when he explored the Darklands for the first time; intimidated at first, he quickly found this strong Koopa to be charming and carefree under his sharp wit, a persona Bowser cultivated carefully. Mario trusted Bowser, believed him to be the coolest guy in the world and did everything to earn his respect and friendship. Bowser was his best friend.

Or so did Mario think.

He didn't realize that Bowser was using him for his plans ; growing closer to someone in the Princess' inner circle (as in this AU, Mario, Luigi and Peach all but grew up together) with the goal of getting rid of him once the time was right. Bowser encouraged Mario into reckless behaviour, suggesting certain places to visit because they would have something the kingdom needed, and wouldn't the Princess appreciate it ?

Mario took the habit of dragging Luigi with him in these adventures, until the day they both almost died to enemies in the Darklands; Mario then tried his best to not involve Luigi into his expeditions anymore to keep him safe.

But it only made him more susceptible to Bowser's manipulations. After all, his best friend wouldn't put him in danger, right ?

Until one day, Bowser manipulates Mario into doing something that causes a great catastrophe; maybe causing the death of Peach's parents, or someone as important to Peach (Toadsworth maybe?). But it wasn't actually his fault; like in TLK, the event covered the moment where Bowser murders with his own hands the victims, and Mario (who was supposed to die as well) doesn't see the crime. All he sees, when he manages to pull himself out of danger, is his friend's dark expression as he takes in the gruesome scene.

"What have you done?"

It doesn't take much convincing from Bowser to send Mario running away, too horrified and consumed by guilt to come back to Peach and Luigi and all of the Mushroom Kingdom.

With Mario, the only witness, out of the way, Bowser makes his move : presenting himself to the castle, claiming to be here to help and swiftly, quietly taking over the crown, under the pretence that Peach is too distraught by her parents' death to rule properly. And it doesn't take long before he brings his followers along : Koopas and Goombas and Shy Guys who were seduced by Bowser's promise for more power in the luxurious Mushroom Kingdom.

Bowser also claims that Mario tragically lost his life as well, and his body washed away or too mangled to be recognized. No one suspects a thing ; Luigi was one of the only ones to know Bowser was friend with Mario and has no reason to suspect any foul play. Bowser still makes sure to keep a close eye on Luigi, ready to eliminate him as well if he ever grows suspicious.

Months pass. Bowser slowly, methodically asserts himself as the new king and removes any sign of resistance. By solving issues and defeating threats the kingdom faces (which he engineers himself from behind the scenes), he gives the impression he's a reliable king, very strict but fair and the only thing between the kingdom and destruction; by the time Peach starts to be concerned and wants to intervene, Bowser is too influential and powerful to challenge.

Mario is hiding away in another land. He doesn't dare to come back : everytime he thinks about it, he fears the reaction of Peach and Luigi if he tells them what (he thinks) happened. And after all this time, his self-exile is a significant proof of his culpability, isn't it ?

I don't want Peach to be the one to look for help and bring back Mario, as she's still officially in charge and would prefer to stay in the kingdom and try to fight for her subjects rather than flee; and Luigi would be too carefully watched by Bowser and his minions to have a chance to leave the kingdom.

Instead I hesitate between Daisy or Toad, although Daisy might have the role of Timon and Pumbaa, greeting Mario in her kingdom and encouraging him to stay and enjoy himself without thinking about his past (in this version of the AU, she doesn't know Peach and her kingdom).

In any case, when Mario is convinced to come back to the Kingdom, the events play similarly than in TLK : only with Luigi in the role of Sarabi, summoned by Bowser in a humiliating display so the Koopa King can take out his anger on an easy victim. Luigi has been cowed until now, unable to fight back; but when Bowser brings Mario into the argument, Luigi dares to stand up and defend his brother -only to be violently struck back.

And that's when Mario shows up.

Bowser is taken aback, unsure of how to react as Mario rushes to his brother's side and makes sure he's okay, before marching towards Bowser, angry at his friend's behaviour...but Bowser catches himself and manages to turn the situation around, using Mario's shame to undermine him, pushing him to admit publicly his role in the disaster.

(Peach going to Mario and saying "It's not true...Tell me it's not true." as he hangs his head down in shame. <3 <3)

Anyway I just want Bowser circling around Mario as he manipulates him and smugly tells him "Ah, so you haven't told them our little secret.Well, now's your chance to tell them."

[slutforsnow]

I swear im trying for chapter 6 of The Blue Note 😔 My fyp isnt giving more astv edits 🥲 anyways, to feed the twilight community im here to offer

.

.

.

.

✨️A JASPER X OC FIC✨️

A Cowboy's Dream

Character info:

Name: Eliana (el-e-anna) Smith

Nicknames: Eli (El-e), Ana, Silly, Star Girl

Insults: Accident, Freak, Weirdo, r-slur

Age: 17

Birthday: April 6th

Blood type: O-

Mental illness/disorder: Autism

Sexuality: Omnisexual

Gender: Female she/her

Backstory: Eliana was born in with a semi-normal family. She had a father, Michael, and a mother, Terra. When Eli had turned about 6 months old when Michael realized he was gay and wanted a divorce. Terra went along with it, as she was a closeted lesbian. She couldn't stand being in a marriage with a man, so once the divorce was finalized, Michael and Terra stayed friends but went to live on their lives. Terra kept Eliana, as Michael wasn't sure that traveling in a van would be safe for a 6 month old, and met her later wife -Vanessa- when Ana was 3. They got married on Eli's birthday, with her permission of course, and have given Eliana the world and more that a girl could ask for while living in Forks, Washington. Michael comes to visit Eliana for special days just whenever she wants to see him because Terra and Vanessa decided that it'd be good for her to have connection to her father, despite calling him "Uncle Mike." Eliana was diagnosed with autism at 7 years old after she had a meltdown about having to sleep on silk sheets in a hotel that the 3 women were staying at for a trip.

She's lived in Forks her entire life and doesn't mind the quietness or rain because at night, when the rain clears, she see the stars and often draws pictures out whatever shape(s) she sees in them.

START NOTE: IM AUTISTIC AND CAN RECLAIM THE R SLUR. I WILL AVOID USING IT AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE SO IT MAY ONLY POP UP 1 OR 2 TIMES. If people are uncomfortable, I'll remove the slur from the story entirely <3

First Meeting

"Do I not look Italian-?" Eli asked, laughing as Mike was in shock learning the autistic member of the group was Italian.

"No, you look white-!! Like, white white." Mike protested as Eliana walked with Bella to her truck.

"Bye bye, Mikey~!" She called as Bella shook her head and ruffled Eliana's dual colored hair.

"So, I'm guessing you and Mikey are close?" Bella questioned as Eliana moved closer to her to avoid bumping into the Cullens.

"Eehhhh, if you wanna call teasing each other like siblings close because you're both only children then yes...? Besides, we grew up neighbors, so we see each other every day and let me tell you- being surrounded by loud neurotypicals hurts like hell."

"Really?" Bella looked up at Eliana as the smaller female sat on the hood of the car. "I thought they were ok- a bit better than the people back in Arizona."

"Ehhh, depends on the person. Since I'm autistic, and I don't speak for every autistic person, I have sensory issues meaning I can't handle super loud crowds or friend groups. But they were my only friends, so I sucked it up as best as I could and dealt with it. You, however, aren't autistic and don't really mix with the loud crowd and tend to avoid them as much as possible," Eliana explained pulling a marker out of her patch-filled messenger bag and started to draw stars along her left arm.

"Oh.. that makes sense, yeah," Bella replied after a moment, watching Eliana draw on herself. Throughout the day, Bella noted that Eli would do this whenever a certain blonde was around. According to Jessica, Eliana has had a thing for one of the mysterious Cullens- Jasper. Yet, he was seemingly taken by Alice. It hurt Eliana, so she took to drawing on herself to avoiding staring at him and causing drama.

Yet, every so often, Jasper would catch himself staring at her and he looked away, attempting, and failing, to not be caught.

The reason why the pair did this was because Jasper saved her life exactly 3 years ago today.

"Are you serious dude? The Freak?" A student inquired, laughing his ass off as Eli walked passed, clutching her books and not noticing the 5 squares of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shirt.

"Yeah! I mean, besides, it's not like anyone's going to stand up for the retard and won't it be awesome to humiliate it in front of the whole school?" The student's friend spoke up, grinning and seeing Eliana walk to class faster to avoid being seen crying out of distress.

Later that day, Eli had forgotten all about the worry of being humiliated. She felt safe and at peace. Besides, she had gotten to talk to one of her more mysterious classmates, Rosalie, today and she promised to help Eli get a good hair-do that would make her feel happy.

Life felt perfect and completely worry-free... until one of her bullies kicked her in the back and caused her to trip down the stairs of the building and fall into the wet pavement.

She groaned, rolling onto her side and hugging her ribs as blood ran down her face from her nose and her head spun in dizziness. She was in so much pain that she didn't process a car come barreling down to her until she heard a large crash and a familiar voice yell.

Two sets of hands pulled her up, eliciting a cry of pain from the younger as pressure was put onto her right foot. One of the 'strangers' whom had helped her up, scooped her up bridal style as she began to fall in and out of consciousness.

After a few hours had gone by, Eliana woke up, groaning.

"Ah, I see you're awake, Eliana. You gave us a scare there," a gentle and friendly voice said earning a tiny smile from the teen.

"Hi, Dr. Carlisle..." She groaned out, putting a hand to her head and flinching in the process.

"Hi, dear," he greeted, sympathetically and gently running his hand through her long bright blonde hair. The doctor cared deeply for her and she loved him like he was her dad. "Can you tell me what happened this time?"

"I- uhmmm... I don't think I remember a lot of it..." She told him, honestly and shrugging a tad. Carlisle merely smiled reassuringly.

"It's alright, you don't have to try and remember all of it now, but would you be able to give me a gist of what happened?" He questioned, sitting in one of the rolly stools while checking her heartbeat.

"Uhmm... I think I tripped down the stairs... and then hit my head really hard, but I don't remember anything after that," She told him, trying to focus on the light he was using to check her eyes.

"You tripped? Eli... these injuries don't typically come from tripping down the stairs- accident prone or not," Carlisle started, looking at her and she moved her gaze to her hands. "Are you sure someone didn't kick you down the stairs or anything?"

Eliana tensed and stayed quiet. She didn't want the senior to get in trouble, but her silence did confirm that someone did kick her down the stairs.

"Eli..? Come on, you can't stay quiet for this, honey. Jasper and Rosalie already told Chief Swan everything that they know and he's waiting to talk to you downstairs, as he's wanting to know if your mothers will press charges against whomever hurt you and, apparently, tried to run you over."

"He's gonna kill me if I say anything though..." Eli buried her face into her knee that she could move and groaned audibly.

"But he also could be behind bars. Freedom from him, Eliana, wouldn't that be nice?" Ana paused for a moment and nodded a bit, earning a kind smile from Carlisle.

However, before Carlisle could continue, one of the Cullens entered the room with Eliana's stuff. This one must've been Jasper, due to the fancy shirt he wore and his wavy/curly blonde locks were pushed out of his face that as Rosalie had described.

"Ah, Jasper, here with Eliana's things. Thank you, son," He said as Jasper sat her bag by her shoes and nodded, then went to leave, not making eye contact with either.

"Hey, Jasper-?.. uhm... Thanks.. to you and the other person who helped," Eliana called. Jasper had froze at the door when she called his name. He'd never heard it said so... kindly and softly before. There was no sound of reassurance or manipulation behind it- just pure gratitude and the blonde could sense that from her, even without his power.

Partially turning to face her, he smiled at her kindly.

"You're welcome, ma'am. I'm just glad to see you're not bleedin too bad," He said to her, with his Southern accent coming out before leaving the room. This left Carlisle chuckling softly at his son for sneaking in a thank-you to her for not causing him to go feral and Eliana completely in love with him.

[cazzyf1]

My Favourite Quotes from: Niki Lauda Das Dritte Leben

So it's been 4 years since Niki has passed now. Over a year since I became so involved with Niki's life here. It's crazy how short of a time it's been.

It's been a while since I made one of these, but as I have brought two new Niki books recently, I figured I should make this to share. The book is fully in German, which I have had to use google translate on; so there will be grammatical issues in this but for the most part, I'd say this is accurate.

Enjoy

"Only Graham Hill and Chris Amon had private planes, and they were simple propeller mills. It had more to do with sport than luxury or gaining time when they came to the races in Fleger. Once they flew from Spa to London in Graham's Piper Actec, and because I was going the same way, they took me with them. Back then, you didn't travel 20 minutes after crossing the finish line of a race, but on Monday morning. It all started with Graham complaining about a headache that morning from drinking so much at the Grand Prix party. It was raining miserably and the runway was a grass runway. We barely made it over the embankment and darted rather noncommittally into the laundry room over the canal. Hill and Amon constantly argued and yelled at each other. Hill was a captain but only had a visual pilot's license, Amon understood instruments, and I think that's where the trouble came from. I sat in the back and had no idea of ​​anything. Anyway, we ended up in London. I didn't feel like I wanted to be a pilot or have an airplane." - 8

"The impression improved when my cousin of a clear friendly tone took me in his Cessna 150 for a sightseeing flight over the Inn Valley. Everything was nice and smooth and friendly, and flying so easy. The view over both sides of the Alps suggested a direttissima between Salzburg, where I now lived, and Ferrari. I became a student pilot and I loved practicing in Salzburg-Bologna. That's how flying got a meaning." - 8

"Stay in your own house on the edge of the forest. Breakfast with Marlene. Fifteen minutes drive to Salzburg Airport, Kemetinger has already fired up the Golden Eagle, an hour later she sails into Bologna. Sante Ghedini picks me up. Two hours at Ferrari's circuit. Enzo Ferrari himself comes over from his office. We're going to Cavallino for lunch, I can do Polsk at the old man's (unfortunately very important). Another hour of testing. Off to Bologna. At half past five I walk in at Marlene's door, like someone who comes home from the office happily. To imagine that day with a scheduled airliner was impossible to fit in twice a six-hour drive: a horror." - Niki's routine

"A few years earlier I had been a hopelessly incompetent loser in high school, in my apprenticeship as a mechanic and then again at high school, and now I was playing the great analyst of Formula 1. I had a good sensorium in my butt, I could feel it Car lived, also in details." - 10

"I met Marlene in the summer of 1975. She was Curd Jürgens' girlfriend and as such the lady of the house at a party in Salzburg. She has a Spanish mother and an Austrian father, was born in Venezuela and mostly grew up there. She has a lot more Spanish than Austrian character. The name Niki Lauda meant absolutely nothing to her. Marlene was infinitely far away from racing and asked the most hair-raising questions, like a child. A few months later she definitely didn't marry the racing driver in me, she took that with her without realizing what she was getting into. As a racing driver you need naïve optimism ("nothing's going to happen to me anyway"), otherwise you wouldn't be able to get into the car at all, and Marlene was willing to believe in it just as I said she would. She was endlessly carefree, and before she knew she was right in the middle of the horror. I was 27, world champion and on my way to my second title. Before I got into the Ferrari on August 1, 1976 at the Nürburgring, Austrian journalists told me that the Reichsbrücke in Vienna had collapsed a few hours earlier. It was a strange feeling: that the biggest bridge in the city, in the whole country, could simply collapse in a second." - p11

"Frank Gardner in a Cortina Lotus had won. At the podium he put down the wreath and descended with tears in his eyes. He had just been told that Jim Clark had died in Hockenheim. Jim Clark was also my big idol, so that also affected me. What particularly bothered me about it was that it was caused by a technical defect, back then there weren't safety bolts in the rims, and if you had a puncture, the tire could jump off the rim. So Clark simply took a turn on the long straight in Hockenheim and pulled straight into the forest without it being his fault. That kept me busy for a long time." - p16

"First, there were these microscopic slivers of burned face shield (balaclava) that had been transplanted with the fresh skin I had developed an allergy to. He got 70 such things out of me in a three-day ordeal with tweezers, carefully treating everything with peppermint oil. The ears, or what was left of them, were raw flesh and painful beyond belief. Willy called the surgeon, who said: The rest of it will probably rot off as well, then the pain will be gone." Willy marched down to Lake Fuschi and dug up some roots, to which he said things like: That helped the Crusaders. As a result, I was able to sleep for the first time in three days, and for 15 hours, and two weeks later I had skin again over what was left of my ears. Then it happened incredibly quickly, also because I was so eager to return to normal life. I soon started running and strength training, and I noticed the progress every day." - p25

"Hannes was a good conversation partner in my euphoria for the future Lauda Air, which was already going through my head in 1977. He had an idea for the "style" that we wanted to develop, for our self-representation and our self-image. We talked about flying, about upcoming planes and an upcoming airline. No detail was too small for us, no fantasy too big. It "It was just fun to sand the contours of a vision. Hannes sketched a jumbo tail and painted a red L in it. This is what the logo could look like. No type of aircraft was better suited than the jumbo, because of the corresponding slant of the towering tail. However, since there was no company yet, the corporate design of the Lauda Air could initially only be applied to my crash helmet: a double red L, lightly scripted, on a white background." - p31

"In the years that followed, Hannes Rausch accompanied me to almost every Grand Prix. Of course there was also Bertl Wimmer. Bertl lived in my (Salzburg) area, worked as a salesman for motorcycles and mopeds for KTM and, through his enthusiasm for motor sports, came into contact with Walter Wolf and finally mine. Our common interests were motorcycling, flying and all kinds of nonsense, and by about 1975 we were friends. Ideally, I packed a team of four as a Grand Prix accompaniment in the Citation or the Lear Jet: Marlene and Messrs. Willy Dungl, Bert! Wimmer, Hannes Rausch (one for the body, one for the heart and one for the brain", at least according to Hannes' interpretation)." - p31

"I only passed the theory part of the exam on the second attempt in Braunschweig. For the practical part, I needed a long-range flight, so I shipped the flight instructor and examiner to the Lear in New York and then flew on to the US Grand Prix in Long Beach. Bernie Ecclestone was already waiting there, saying he urgently needed to go to Las Vegas. So I flew him there. Before I left, I flipped through the messages that Bernie had brought me from the hotel. I should urgently call Frau Maier, our housekeeper in Salzburg. In the phone box at the airport I was told: "An Buam ham S', an Buam ham S'." Our first child was born: Lukas." -p44-45

"Of course, I also drove a full Formula 1 season. When I came home from the Monaco Grand Prix, our kitchen was slightly damaged. Did the dogs behave like that?" I asked Mariene. "No," she said. I had a tantrum" She had her fit during the TV broadcast from Monaco when she saw Didier Pironi try to pass me at Mirabeau, riding on the back of my Brabham and missing my neck by six inches before slamming into the guardrail . Pironi's maneuver was so bloody stupid that you could get angry about it. But that wasn't why Marlene dismantled the kitchen. She was just so incredibly angry because she once again had to watch what she had been doing since the Nürburgring in 1976 knew exactly: That racing is idiotic. Everyone who takes part is idiots, and I, right in the middle, played a brilliant leading role: Congratulations!" and a kitchen box was due. When I got back into the car six weeks after the fire accident, she didn't stop me because she basically allows everyone every freedom, but she thought I was stupid. She thought the whole racing sport was stupid, our rituals, the rush, the heartlessness, and that you can cripple yourself. Marlene never again had a relaxed relationship with racing. My selfishness was strong enough not to let that deter me. I believed, and I do the same today, that in a partnership, too, the free development of the individual must be out of the question. If there isn't room for it, it's just not the right partnership." -p47-48

"Back then, I actually wore beige lace-up velvet trousers every day that had a burn hole over which Marlene had sewn blue fabric in the shape of a fish. I also wore a beige Niki sweater and the shoes painted by Hannes." - p51

"Gilles Villeneuve died in Zolder on May 8, 1982. I liked him for his charm and naturalness, admired his willingness to surrender unconditionally to sweet madness (which, however, had nothing to do with his death fall). In the last hours of his life I had two typical experiences with him. Thursday night at the hotel: I was about to go to bed and heard the flop-flop-flop-flop of a helicopter gone mad. It was pitch black and a searchlight scanned the area in front of the hotel, trying to sort out pylons and cables. The thing did land, it was Villeneuve's Agusta 109, a nice twin engine with retractable gear, Gilles had an immaculate Clarification: "I flew away from Nice when it was still quite light." The next day, first training, first ride. I happened to come out of box right behind Gilles and saw him in the allerer. flew out of the first curve. When we stood together later, I asked him out of genuine interest why a person would throw themselves out in the very first corner of a training session. He said: "Niki, I can't do it different." There was something in him, that simply does not allow him to drive in a calculating or cautious manner, no matter what the track (at the beginning of a training session, the ideal line is not yet sanded clean, that only becomes apparent after a number of laps) That was the last thing I heard from him heard: "I can't help it." - p61-62

"Now, sitting still on the plane, sadness, worry, anger and the burning uncertainty, of course also self-pity seeped into me: What had I done that I had to be the center of such an oversized disaster? In Kennedy I was finished, physically and mentally. I trotted to the PanAm counter, handed over my ticket. The Man looked at it, looked at me, made two dashes through, gave me the ticket and said Stand By". I hadn't bothered with the ticket before, no- had no idea I was stand by to Washington. When the PanAm man said "stand by", I didn't give a damn for the first time in six days. I thought I did like me Out of. Tilt Then again: I have to go to Washington. But how? should i cry shouldn't I cry? I was remote controlled, but the helmsman was not at the post I turned and walked back into the hall and squatted down. I couldn't do more. As if I had been beaten and can no longer hit back. I stared at the ticket without any realization. I almost passed out, I didn't care, I couldn't take it anymore. I would sit here, just sit there I couldn't sleep either. Except for race fans, no dog in America knows me, but now everything was different. - p139

"I flew from London to Salzburg to see Marlene and the children. Marlene was still completely distraught. The ten days that had passed since the crash hadn't lessened her shock. Lukas also showed concern, only Mathias was quite relaxed, listened to a lot and said he was going to play tennis." - p149 (about the plane crash)

"Lukas then came out with the fact that jokes about it were already circulating at school. For example, if you don't love your wife anymore, then send them with the Lauda Air."" -p150

"Niki Lauda's wife loves the neighbors was the headline in August 1989. With a photo (not of the neighbors on Ibiza, but of me), the report took up half the front page. The lover was not only described ("he is 33, tall, blond, blue-eyed"), but also called by name. It was the partner, now husband, of Marlene's sister Renate and one of our closest friends So they didn't bother with even a minimum of research. Since Renate was pregnant at the time, we were able to win the lawsuit against "Bild", which is otherwise hardly possible in such cases in Germany. By and large, the tabloid writes what it wants." - p240

"When the first journalist somewhere heard that I had an illegitimate child, he confronted me about it. "That's right," I said, but it doesn't help anyone if it's in the newspaper, not the child, not the mother, not the father and his family." right Okay, said the journalist and didn't write a word. Over time, others found out about it, too, and I said to them: 80 Yes, it's true, but anyway, he's known about it for a long time. He doesn't write it because he's helping me with it." They didn't write it either, and at some point quite a lot of people knew about it, at least beyond the narrow circle. None of them developed the ambition to make a particularly nice headline with the private life of Niki Lauda. Until at some point a German writer from wind and put it boldly in his newspaper, then followed short confirmations in the Austrian newspapers, but Christoph was already in kindergarten age. That's how my mother experienced it, for example. In her slightly crumpled Schönbrunner German she said: Niiiki, did that have to be?"- and never a word of it again." - p241-242

"Christoph is a bright fifteen-year-old growing up in Vienna and with whom I have little contact. We see each other about three times a year, so of course no sensible father-son relationship can develop from that. I only have one family, it stays that way, married or divorced, it doesn't matter. I have a bad conscience that it happened," and I can't get rid of it either. The situation presents itself as unsolvable in the sense of a result that could make everyone happy. I don't want to cut myself in half, and I can't see a middle ground that I could reasonably walk. Christoph grew up completely differently than the children under Marlene's and my influence. I feel the difference very strongly, but of course it's okay." -p242

"Marlene is my life person. She has uncanny strength and security, and she rests in the midst of a chaos she beautifully crafts." -p242

"I had lived with a very disciplined young lady for seven years and married Marlene within a few months. I didn't take it that terribly seriously, I just wanted to know what it's like: being married, and Marlene was exactly the kind of person who could understand it well." - p243

"When I confessed the illegitimate child to her, she was hurt but decided that if I wanted that to happen, nothing about our family should change. Of course I wanted. If we did eventually divorce, she demanded, "I'll have the kids, the dogs, the camera." So we continued this weird kind of marriage that we were both comfortable with. A relationship can only be based on how two people understand each other, and we got along well. I remained stubbornly focused on my egocentric life, racing, company, and Marlene accepted that. Normally you can only choose between family and freedom, I could choose as much as I wanted from both. I could lean my head back when I felt like it and when I felt fit I could run away and do whatever I wanted. Everyone knows that I wasn't a saint anyway. But even there it depends on what is ultimately the case remains. It's easy for me because I can decide for myself in this constellation. We do not need to discuss the responsibility for the three. If Marlene pulls the lace and says, what now?, I'm there immediately. Just: She has never pulled the lace. I know exactly the limits. And if the boundaries need to be shifted, then we'll shift them against me too. But since Marlene gives me such freedom, thank God, I also live it. But when push comes to shove, she always wins. Just as we got married, we divorced in 1991. It didn't matter and it didn't change anything. The official in Thalgau asked about the reason for the divorce. ..There isn't one, I want a divorce." "It's impossible without a reason." ..What could be a reason, for example?" ..If someone wasn't at home for six months." I haven't been home for six months." ..Are you sure?" Yes, of couse." "The marriage is divorced." On leaving, Marlene said: "The children, the dogs, the camera." I was flabbergasted. It had worked the way she always said it would. And nothing changed. Of course I took all the steps to protect her, and also signed the house in Salzburg over to her." -p244

"For five years only the very closest circle knew about it. Marlene wanted to spare the children who went to school in Hof near Salzburg the public discussion of our private lives. So we kept quiet" - p244

"Accordingly, it turned out that Lukas had nothing in mind with cars and motorcycles. He just got comfortable with cycling, that was all. I resented how he grew up with no technical spark. I had to do something. When he was about thirteen, I bought him a small motocross bike for his size. He was super excited about it, but for two months he just started the thing up in the garage and went wrrrrmmm, wrrrrmmm. No, he doesn't want to drive, he doesn't want to. One Saturday the whole family was sitting at the Schloßwirt in Anif, it was a wonderful day. I said to Lukas, let's drive home quickly, I'll show you something. On the lawn in front of our house I put him on the front of the motorcycle, sat on the back, grabbed the handlebars, showed him how to use the gas and clutch. But he only stopped in the middle of the handlebars and wasn't willing to move his hand towards the accelerator. So we drove around in the meadow, two on a small bike. It seemed like a solid hour before he finally parted his hands enough to get the gas and clutch. I suddenly jumped off. He roared like crazy, made a slow giant arc, and I had to run alongside. In the end I had to catch him because he couldn't get his feet on the ground properly. Very slowly, in first gear, he trembled through the meadow and scolded me. Anyway, he was on his way. - p246

"The next time I came to Salzburg, Lukas said: So what?" Come down with me. I'm going to go motocross." "Come down." He dressed carefully. Leather outfit, boots, fall home, the whole fuss. I stood there bored and waited for him to shake his way out. He jumped on his motorcycle and sped out of the garage on the back wheel - an image I'll never forget become. I ran to Mathias.,,What's the matter?" The little brother then told me that the day after our first trip, Lukas had gone down to the farm boys on his motorbike, and he had driven with them until he could, becoming more and more ambitious, and in the end totally stupid." - p247

"With Mathias, the result was the same, only the way to get there was much easier. He wouldn't have gotten up on his own, so I put him on the bike, said that's the gas, that's the clutch, he said yes, I know. He drove away, made a detour, came back and drove unsharpened to the garage door. ,,Are you dumb?" "I don't know where the brake is." He was fearless. Full throttle from the first second. And his brother was such a protégé. Anyway, they started riding motocross together" - p247

"If you really aspire to a motocross career, you should start just after walk school. So it was by no means too early when Lukas and Mathias, aged 14 and 12 respectively, asked for decent motocross machines for further training. Marlene had a fit, but I told her to let her go: Motocross is the hardest thing there is. You will never get ahead. There's no money to be made, the sport is just exhausting, dusty and dirty, they'll soon stop doing it." Marlene accepted and I bought the boys two 125 Hondas. They drive it really well and there is no longer any difference between the two. They are equally wild and equally good. I hope that it doesn't turn into a motocross career, and that suggests that they're jumping around like crazy out of sheer jokes and frolics. But they lack the seriousness of cardio, running and weight training every day, so I believe I think the racing bacillus will eventually suffocate in the eternal dust of motocross. Marlene has now fully embraced the kids' hobby, drives the machines back and forth, checks in between Barcelona and Ibiza." - p248

"My mother survived him by eighteen years. I didn't see her very often either, but there was always a bond and affection, maybe there was also a hidden longing for the family that had been lost so to speak. Her last days were moving. She had cancer, only wanted therapy up to a point, and then no more. Brother Florian and I took turns at her bedside for the last week and never left her alone. They were important days for me and for this last remnant of family. I think after all our mother understood that she had sons who loved her. Now only Florian is left. We had always had little contact, but after the death of our mother we became closer again. He lives his life completely differently from me, hasn't done anything in all his 46 years that I would call work, but that's by no means criticism, on the contrary, I admire him for it. He studied but didn't finish, did this and that, was always happy, and because of them Family circumstances he could also afford it." - p250

"I never had a problem with my appearance after the accident. problem That's what I look like, that's it. I therefore only had the medical technically necessary operations on the eyes and ears chen, but no plastic surgery. James Hunt, my 1976 World Cup rival, said the accident was the best thing that could have happened to me: "You finally have a face to look at." - p253

"In the meantime, an Austrian brewery had expressed interest in providing me with a Gösser"-Kapperl, green of course. Practical and unsentimental as I am, I thought five million schillings is a lot of money these days, so why shouldn't I have one green Kappl marching around?” I really didn't have any major concerns and made a preliminary contract. Then I showed up at the company with the green Kapperl on a trial basis. The employees were stunned. They thought I wasn't quite tight anymore. Lauda can't wear a green cap, he can't have any other cap but this red thing, and the fact that it says Parmalat isn't an advertising message, it just happens to be written on Lauda's cap. Of course, I have so much respect for symbols and the opinions of the employees that I allow myself to be taught. So I canceled the Gösser lecture with difficulty, wept briefly and violently over the beautiful coal and politely put the red cap back on. It will probably stay that way, I think." P254

"I had just come back from Miami, with the flu, overworked, overtired, came to the Viennese apartment next to the Hotel Sacher and suffered a heart attack. I fell to the ground, unable to move. With the utmost effort, I crawled to the phone, but who should I call? Emergency call, ambulance? It was the time of my worst argument with the AUA, and even in my fear of death I couldn't give them the triumph that the red Kappl was being carried out of the Sacher-Haus on a stretcher. So Willy Dungl, but he wasn't there. I asked for a call back, extremely urgent. Meanwhile, still on the ground, I scribbled notes for Marlene, account numbers and so on, farewell. After hours I think Dungl finally called. I'm having a heart attack, I said, please take me to the hospital discreetly. Willy and his wife picked me up, took me out of the house and straight to the general hospital, where on the Cardiac station everything was already prepared. First check: everything ok. healthy heart, as in the last pilot examination. Infinite relief, however wrong with unchanged Pains. So it could only be a misaligned vertebra, a pinched nerve, which is Dungl's specialty anyway (actually it was the fifth thoracic vertebra, I think). I'll take you straight to Gars, where I can treat you properly," said Dungl. I was dragged to Willy's car in the hospital yard. It came to me like a rocket from the subconscious Remembering Willy Dungl's car skills. ..Who's driving?" I asked, suddenly wide awake. I'll drive," said Dungl. I whimpered, "Let me drive, Willy."- p272-3

"The greatest driver personality over my 25-year span has been Ayrton Senna. The strongest, the best, innovative, extremely sensitive as a driver and as a person. He dealt with racing perfectly and with unbelievable intensity. He had everything under control and was creative in all his ideas. He was warm-hearted and friendly and inspired me as a person, although his religiosity was completely alien to me" - p291

"At the time of the 1993 Spanish Grand Prix, I tried to lure him to Ferrari. I met him in his Barcelona hotel room and told him how great it was to immerse himself in the Ferrari myth. But he didn't give a damn about myth and said he was only interested in a car that he could win races in. We didn't even get to talk about money, and in the end he probably drove for Williams almost free of charge in 1994 because he basically had to buy Prost out." - p292

Hope you enjoyed the read! When I finish the next book I'll try to get it out. Also tagging @f1yogurt

[signalhill-if]

I HAVE AN ASK that I actually thought of while working earlier so HERE GOES c:

Lets say, the world didn’t go to shit, and our beloved characters are transported into the year 2023. What are they doing? How are they holding up? Job wise, and just in general? How is what they’re doing different from canon, now that things like social media and all that ‘fun’ stuff is around, if it’s different at all?

Thank you for the question! And also thank you to the anon who asked a very similar question that I forgot to answer 🥲

Rather than just saying what they'd do if they were in the present, I'm gonna sorta Modernify their canon lives because it's fun :) Also, SPOILERS BEWARE, I'm obviously not including anything super spoilery about the plot but if you want the character's backstories revealed naturally in the game then maybe don't read because there's a bunch of new stuff here!

Doc's trajectory in life is a lot different, in a world where he can actually get a proper education. His dad was a veterinarian for a horse racing place, and he didn't exactly have the most wealthy upbringing, but he was comfortable and learned a lot about horses. His dream was always to attend medical school, but money was tight- until he started dating Yvette in his first year of university, who helped him get into dealing drugs. After getting his MD, he started working at a not-for-profit local clinic, and oversees their needle exchange program. He still owns a sniper rifle in our universe, but he doesn't use it (usually)

Yasmin is the daughter of a prominent media mogul who was recently assassinated, putting her even more in the public eye than she already was. She had a wealthy but miserable youth, one of those rich kids who was privately tutored and never really had friends, y'know? At a young age, her mother died, and she's been in a spiral ever since. She had a brief but stormy relationship with KC in college. Since then, Yasmin's become a minor social media star, posting moody selfies and doing a lot of drugs with her influencer friends- specifically, Yvette.

KC grew up poor with a struggling single father and took the idea of "pulling yourself up by your bootstraps" seriously. She worked throughout high school to get into a good college for business management, with a mix of money saved up from part time work and scholarships. She excelled at soccer in high school and wound up playing for her college's varsity team. Through a mutual "friend" she met Yasmin, and the two of them dated until KC got a job at Yasmin's dad's company and realized how terribly it treated its employees. She got heavily involved in the (successful) effort to organize a union at the company, and since then has been involved in helping other baby unions with their organizing efforts.

Yvette found it hard to stay in the closet from a pretty young age, and growing up in a place where that was frowned upon, he learned to be resilient and self-sufficient. As an adult, he moved to the big city and befriended a wealthy drug dealer while working as an escort. Through some questionably moral events, he wound up in charge of this operation with the other guy... out of the picture. From there, it all happened so fast- buying the club (which he named the Rose and Thorn), the fancy car, the nice condo. Living the dream. But he has his sights set even higher ever since he befriended Yasmin, the heiress to a multimedia throne.

Levi had a sheltered youth, attending private Catholic schools in Quebec alongside his childhood best friend Maxime. He excelled in his studies, but Maxime was always a step ahead of him, especially in the area of religion. Despite being an attentive student, Levi struggled with anger issues and was a target for bullying throughout his youth. When the two were seniors in high school and Levi's long-time bully disappeared under mysterious circumstances, they decided to move away and start a new life together in the big city. Here, Maxime's (or now, Aldrich's) spiritual ideas flourished, getting the attention of people on social media. But being labelled as a cult leader is barely better than their youth.

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 4.5./5

Book Blurb:

New from the author of Seoulmates comes a story of mistaken identities, the summer of a lifetime, and a love to risk everything for.

When Elijah Ri arrives in New York City for an internship at his father’s massive tech company, Haneul Corporation, he expects the royal treatment that comes with being the future CEO—even if that’s the last thing he wants. But instead, he finds himself shuffled into a group of overworked, unpaid interns, all sharing a shoebox apartment for the summer.

When Jessica Lee arrives in New York City, she’s eager to make the most of her internship at Haneul Corporation, even if she’s at the bottom of the corporate ladder. But she’s shocked to be introduced as the new executive-in-training intern with a gorgeous brownstone all to herself.

It doesn’t take long for Elijah and Jessica to discover the source of the mistake: they share the same Korean name. But they decide to stay switched—so Elijah can have a relaxing summer away from his controlling dad while Jessica can make the connections she desperately needs for college recommendations.

As Elijah and Jessica work together to keep up the charade, a spark develops between them. Can they avoid discovery—and total disaster—with their feelings and futures on the line?

Review:

She's the poor girl who had to struggle to get everything she's wanted, he's the rich boy who doesn't want any of the thing's his wealth has given him, and a chance mistake at an airport in which they're mistaken for the other because they share the same name leads to the most unlikely summer internship while they take a chance and live in the other's life and possibly find romance. Jessica Lee has struggled financially all her life, budgeting and just trying to get by. She's finally found an internship that would give her the opportunity to make connections that would help her get recommendation letters to go to college. Elijah Ri is the son of the CEO of the Haneul Corporation and is expected to be the next future CEO despite how much he doesn't want it. Elijah grew up rich, throwing money at problems has been the way he was taught to deal with issues, but it's lonely being forced to live in this lifestyle, being seen as a disappointment by his father, and never being allowed to be himself. Elijah is meant to be working at his dad's company for the summer but when Elijah and Jessica have a mix up at the airport because they share the same Korean name suddenly, Jessica is being treated as the new executive-in-training and being flown first class while Elijah is being put in an internship in a tiny place living with 10 other interns. Elijah and Jessica realize the mix up but come up with the idea to keep up the charade as Elijah wants freedom from his father and wants to actually experience things while Jessica will get the chance to live like the other half for the first time. They both agree to help each other keep up the act but while doing so they begin to spend more time together and explore New York as romance blooms between them, but for two people who come from different worlds and live different lifestyles, can romance work? This was a really cute ya rom com about mistaken identity and two opposites attract. Elijah and Jessica are so different but they work perfectly together, they care about each other and balance each other out. I loved the ending for them and this was just a fun feel good read!

*Thanks Netgalley and Inkyard Press for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[stigmvtas]

EDEN SHEPHERD — ABRIDGED.

welcome to marina, EDEN SHEPHERD ( cis woman, she/her ) ! they are a THIRTY TWO year old who has lived over on PROSPECT HILL for HER ENTIRE LIFE and works as a ANTIQUE'S SHOP OWNER. everyone says they look a lot like GRETA ONIEOGOU. what do you think? — JAMES, 24, THEY/THEM, EST.

MENTIONS OF ASTHMA / MEDICAL CONDITION.

profile.

full name: eden beatrice shepherd.

birthday: september 4th, 1991.

astrology: virgo sun, cancer moon, sagittarius ascending.

sexuality: bisexual.

currently listening to: simulation swarm by big thief.

last known location: [[[cannot be found]]]

PINTEREST.

brief history.

grew up on a commune in prospect hill, not too far off from the rest of the island but far enough. it's very much a like, down to earth, all natural - holistic, hippie community.

asthma / medical condition; from childhood, eden's afflicted with asthma. it's bad enough that she spends more time in town, staying with her grandmother in hyland park, than at the commune.

in high school she decides to move in with her grandmother, her condition never worsening but never getting better - it's easier to be closer to the hospital.

is kind of outcasted in high school because she's known as the weird commune girl, walking barefoot around town just because shoes hurt. eden rarely let it phase her, though.

goes to college for bioengineering, because it feels like a combination of what she loves, and what she experiences on the day-to-day. is accepted to ivy leagues, but chose to stay in marina for her education.

meets someone during her masters program, a tourist who'd been traveling the world, and shortly after her graduation from the program she just. runs off and travels with them. they're kind of serious, but eden doesn't realize that they're that serious until they're proposing to her.

says yes, because what else do you say? they stay together for a good amt of years and are set to marry in greece, but eden gets cold feet and promptly. abandons her fiance at the altar.

moved back to marina after that, and hasn't left again since. it's been a few years since then.

inherited her grandmother's antique shop, but her grandma ada's still alive and kicking, she just didn't want to fuss with the finances anymore. the shop is essentially just ada's home in hyland, but the first floor's taken up by shelves and books and tables filled with old knick knacks, junk, and the occasional actually valuable antique.

facts & temperaments.

asthma / medical condition; took a big risk traveling with her asthma, because after years of being stagnant in progression, it's becoming resistant to treatment. is currently on an experimental medication for it. but she has that thang on her at all times.

a peacemaker. would rather solve other's problems than add to them, or fight with anyone - hates conflict. professional at running away from it. everyone in her family jokes that she should've become a therapist instead of a bioengineer, since she hasn't done much with her degree.

will help you with any task, big or small, without question. will only tease you a little bit, but knows when to let up. likes to be a comforting person, and is personable in the sense where she'll know all your favorites, but you won't know much about her or her issues.

doesn't like to be fretted over, very much likes to do things herself. knows how to fix most things herself, and is constantly doing DIYs around the commune and her grandmother's house.

can be a bit high strung even if she tries hard to not come off like it. needs things under her control, despite how much she says she can go with the flow. very anxiety-ridden!

is very sentimental and doesn't throw away anything that provokes strong memories for her. is minimalist on the outside, but keeps at least one closet just filled with shit that she can't bring herself to throw away, even if it doesn't fit her aesthetic.

doesn't do committed relationships very much, because they kind of scare her? doesn't know how to be fully emotionally intimate, so settles with hookups.

overthinker. can be brutally honest at times, but probably doesn't want to hear it from others. anger is slow and quiet, builds if provoked. master at the silent treatment, and is a lifetime grudge-holder if you do manage to get on her bad side.

[wickedanddeadly]

DJ X's Bio

" I’ve fought beside great warriors, learned battle techniques that could only be mastered over several lifetimes. "

Xavier was born in 1452. As Xavier grew up, he was taught the many painful ways to torture a human when they were to be put to death. When reaching legal age Xavier took on a job of being an executioner. In a lot of ways, you would think one wouldn’t get pleasure out of preforming these kinds of acts out on another human being, but Xavier did. Xavier enjoyed his job to the fullest and would sometimes suggest new ways that one could be punished. Many people including Xavier’s parents thought of Xavier as a cold sadistic human being because after each person he executed he was known for always having a sick looking smile on his face.

Years had passed and past and this would be about the time the great plagues started breaking out all around the world. Authorities ordered fires to be kept burning night and day, in hopes that the air would be cleansed. Substances giving off strong odors, such as pepper, hops, or frankincense, were also burned to ward off the infection. To no avail did this seem to work. Xavier watched his parents die from the rapid spreading plague and quickly finds himself infected as well. Xavier had thought it was death himself coming to claim him but in fact it was none other than a vampire who had come to claim him. Strangely enough instead of killing Xavier he gave him the gift of immortality. Once Xavier awakes this mystery person was nowhere to be found but it wasn’t long before Xavier realized there was something vastly different about himself. It only took a few days for his thirst to kick in and realize exactly what he was “A creature of the night.” It was because of Xavier’s human life and the way he was that made this very easy for him to accept, and in fact he embraced it knowing now he could continue on doing what he loved the most and that was taking away life from others. Years later he would reunite with Kirk and learn he was the vampire who turned him.

A few centuries had passed in which Xavier had mastered the art of Combat, Martial Arts, and earned the title of a Weapons Master. He has been present for many historic battles possibly stretching back to medieval times and has acquainted himself with many renowned warriors and learned strategies of battle and warfare that require decades or even whole lifetimes of study to master. Xavier used his vampire abilities to convince the greatest warriors of that time to train him and each one taught him everything they knew. Xavier had always been a man of few words. He had always felt his actions spoke loud and clear for him without having to use many words. His killing style was always much the same: quickly and with as much pain inflicted as possible.

Xavier has always thrived on fame and power. The thirst for power in the same ways he does for blood.

Towards the arrival of the 21st century, he adopted the alias of DJ X, and became a renowned rave proprietor.

This is when he crossed paths with the lovely Rachel Benton. She proved herself as being particularly useful to himself and his crew. It didn’t take her long to win X’s trust and with that brought her into the inner circle of his tight-knit group. Slowly he began revealing his plans to Rachel and as luck would have it, she had her own issues with the same people he sought to destroy. Things couldn’t have worked out any better. Rachel and X became an item though for now she stayed hidden – should his plans fail it would leave her unknown to any who sought to bring his crew down. Somewhere along the line X and Rachel recruited a young human female who was prefect at helping to draw in the crowds for his Raves. Chanel’s more of a Pet to both X and Rachel, they’ve given her false hope of turning her into an immortal should she continue to do their bidding.

This is when he crossed paths with the lovely Sonya Alexander. Instantly he could feel the raw power that radiated from her. Using his silver tongue and charm it took no time at all before the two became a hot and heavy item. Slowly and surely, he planted thoughts in her head, shared his visions with her and even gave her the boosts she needed to help him see those visions through. No one dared to cross paths with the two, they were a deadly pair – those who didn’t fear them stupidly idolized them. But it was a means to an end. There was only one way to truly break Sonya and get her out of the way. He'd done that very thing by breaking her heart and leaving her. Which opened his door straight to Peter…

X left Santa Carla but not before bagging himself a little prize. While he drew a lot of power from Sonya it just wasn’t enough. He needed more and Peter was going to be the one to give that to him. San Cazador was the place to be if you really wanted to gather a group of young wild ravers who weren’t afraid to indulge in their cravings. His plans were to kill Peter, drain him under the blood moon and absorb all his power. There would be no stopping him and his army of vampires. That was until Edgar and Alan Frog ruined his plans along with the help of Zoe.

Years were spent in Purgatory fighting for his life until Lily, Kirk, Vixen, and himself found their way to freedom. They were on earth again, and he had every plan on taking back up where they had left off. But there was still something missing in his life. All those years spent fighting for his life made him realize how much he wanted his plan to work – now more than ever. When he returned to find Sonya with a Gunner, he had to laugh knowing Rachel had been working her magic on the side lines. He tried to convince Sonya that her place was at his side. Hades paid him a visit asking for his assistance in taking down Sonya’s family and most importantly the dog she was engaged to. X readily agreed to offer his assistance. No matter which side he chose he needed to keep his ass covered. The more people killed off in her family the less for him to have to deal with. But then even Hades turned on him and his Crew. This came with a heavy price. Kirk, Lily, and Vixen placed themselves on the line and one by one X watched as they were dispatched. Sonya was near death and his final act before dying and returning to Purgatory was to heal her since he was the one who knew how to restore her heart to her chest. Hades took the final blow on him, just as Gunner took the final blow on Hades.

This time in Purgatory has been spent along. Lily, Kirk, and Vixen were nowhere to be found. This was the one time he truly feared them to be gone forever. A creature or monster finally besting his family leaving him completely and utterly alone. He’s been in Purgatory for so long he’s lost track of how many years have passed. So much so any thought or hope that he’d find another escape had just become a lost distant thought.

But then it happened … a bright flashing white light rippled in the dark sky above him. The pathway that lead back to the world of mortals. This time it happened much differently, instead of him fighting to get to that portal in the sky it was like something reached out and grabbed him, ripping him through to the other side.

Little does he or anyone else know… He’s the side effect to Sonya’s use of dark magic in resorting her mother.

As of December 2021: X and Rachel have been captured by Darius, and are awaiting interrogation/torture at the hands of Sonya and Gunner.

Powers and abilities

Super Strength, Speed, Agility, Senses and Durability He has a silver tongue which makes him very charismatic and charming – and deadly. Master at all forms of weaponry Immortality Telepathy

Weaknesses

Desiccation Decapitation Damaging the Heart

Basic Stats

Height: 5'10" Hair: Dark Brown Eyes: Blue

Relations

Rachel Benton - Partner / Lover Chanel Dixon – Former Pet Kirk – Deceased Lily – Deceased Vixen – Deceased

Original Actor: Seb Castang

Other Face Claim: Jesse Metcalfe

[ramshacklestar]

@wishkept sent || [THE MAGICIAN] - Are they resourceful? What skills do they possess that help them navigate the world around them? [THE EMPRESS] - Do they participate in or have a self-care ritual? If so, what does their routine look like? [THE HIEROPHANT] - What are important traditions to them, if any? Do they stay true to these traditions, or do they adapt them to fit their current situation? [JUDGMENT] - What was an epiphany/awakening they recently had? Did they realize something that they've been naive to? Did they discover something about themselves? What happened?

The Major Arcana || No Longer Accepting

Magician- Yuuna tries to be a very resourceful person, always aiming to stop the potential issue before it becomes a bigger conflict, as for whether or not she succeeds in such a thing is another story as in a few cases she has unintentionally made a situation worse. Or in one particular case was selfish about her decision and didn’t think of the potential repercussions in freeing her friends from a certain someone, even though she was logically aware those same friends put themselves in that position in the first place. Ever since the first incident where she had played witness to what a full overblot was though she has learned to be constantly on guard, and that goes for the NRC students, the professors and more so the RSA students just because she gets a very off feeling about them and that particular school in general. Of course, that could always be because of the influence from NRC, to say she’s gotten used to her chaotic life while at Night Raven wouldn’t be incorrect. . Empress- Not particularly; I mean we are talking about a girl that barely wears makeup, eye liner being the most she ever wears unless it’s some special event, and has (in a hc of mine) absolutely appalled Vil in the notion that she cleanses her face with just a squirt of hand soap and a wash cloth. She is very meticulous about keeping herself and her clothing clean though which comes from a self-loathing of smelling even slightly foul and trying to maintain some sort of image of having herself together physically at least. She is by no means a germaphobe though, and if she gets into a situation where she ends up coated in dirt or grass stains Yuuna isn’t going to go frantically rushing to the nearest water source to wash it away. . Hierophant- Growing up in an orphanage has kept Yuu for developing any type of traditions, not that she’s complaining by any means. The only real tradition, if you even wanted to call it that, is when a child from the orphanage is adopted she as well as the other children and nursemaids alike will make that last day for the adopted child one to remember by accommodating to what that child may like. For example if they like books being read to them that’ll happen between the residents of the orphanage, if they liked a particular meal that will be the meal of the day for the children and nursemaids alike and so on. This tradition has naturally not been one she’s practiced in Twisted Wonderland as the situation is entirely different in this world, but should she return to her own world (which granted in the main story doesn’t happen) she would like to continue those practices and become one of the nursemaids at the same orphanage she grew up in.  . Judgement- That Crowley is in fact not making any effort to find her a way home and seems to be hiding something big from her. For this particular Yuu this belief started right before book 7 while she Ace, Deuce and Grim were all waiting out the appearance of Mickey since she had figured the mysterious mouse creature might be of more help. It isn’t until after she find out the truth that she in fact cannot return home (in main verse) thanks to Lilia’s UM that she believes herself to be naïve in thinking a mouse, that may not even be real, was somehow going to get her home. And of course her reaction follows the longer hc where she demands Crowley give her answers and all the hurt of being kept in the dark leaves her mentality to finally break.

[emptymanuscript]

lila's 12 days of writers self love, Day 3, Repulsed.

For today, a little bit from the end of The Hidden and the Maiden (available on Smashwords & Amazon), so spoilers for a published book, as well as mentions of child abuse and incest. But I love this bit because it is so many issues surfacing at once, both James and JJ talking about other feelings as much as current events while they're hating on each other.

Looking at her face, he realized what had been bothering him since he first saw her fall from the sky like a Valkyrie. She looked nothing like Zephyr. Zephyr was unmistakably Asian, but beneath the silver blood James could see that JJ’s hair was a rich red, her skin pale, her eyes round and green.

“How are you still ali—still around when you’re bleeding out all over the street like that?” James asked tightly.

JJ rolled her head to one side to look at James. Her throat moved and gurgled in an attempt to speak. She closed her eyes with the effort and managed in a thick, wet voice: “Dead are resilient.”

James grunted softly. He moved a few feet over to sit on the curb, facing her. His good will toward her evaporated. He didn’t want to stay with her or make sure she was all right. He looked over at traffic, wondering why a car hadn’t come by to run her over yet.

The traffic flowed around them. Now that he really looked at it, he realized that the curb was curved, though it felt straight as he sat on it. The cars seemed to be veering increasingly away from the ditch, in fact. As James watched carefully, the two worlds diverged. They simply slipped apart. The craterlike impacts left by JJ’s punches were spreading out, flattening. The road grew wider. Space distorted so both the realities could exist.

A bitter, ruined laugh pumped silver in a wash over the sides of JJ’s chest. She let her head settle against the scarred road. She looked up at the monotonous gray sky. “Or did you mean to ask why I wasn’t out of your way?” James glowered at the asphalt, not replying.

“You’d think saving your life would earn me a little pity,” JJ said.

“Maybe you’ll be okay. You’re resilient, after all. Hard to stop.

“Doesn’t change the fact I risked my life for yours.”

James turned away from her. He clawed his fingers into his leg, hating that it was true. Hating that this monster had been more useful than he had, even though she was a horrid creature. “You risked your life for Zephyr, not me. I didn’t ask you to do any of that.”

JJ snorted wetly, then groaned in pain. “Fuck you, too.”

James scooted away from her. “Why the hell should I feel pity for you after you’ve performed exactly one good deed? You just saved him so you can keep abusing him.”

“Abusing him? Oh, I get it. You’re pissed that I’m fucking him, and you’re not.”

James bristled at that. It’s not my fault I thought Zephyr was a woman for five seconds. Zephyr has a lot of effeminate traits. It infuriated him that she thought somehow he was like her, that he wanted to take her place. For a second he wanted nothing more than to kick her right in the wound.

“You risked your life for Zephyr, not me. I didn’t ask you to do any of that.”

JJ snorted wetly, then groaned in pain. “Fuck you, too.”

James scooted away from her. “Why the hell should I feel pity for you after you’ve performed exactly one good deed? You just saved him so you can keep abusing him.”

“Abusing him? Oh, I get it. You’re pissed that I’m fucking him, and you’re not.”

James bristled at that. It’s not my fault I thought Zephyr was a woman for five seconds. Zephyr has a lot of effeminate traits.

It infuriated him that she thought somehow he was like her, that he wanted to take her place. For a second he wanted nothing more than to kick her right in the wound.

“You’re his mother. That’s called child abuse and incest.”

“That really is what you are bitter about, isn’t it?” she asked. She groaned and raised her head, gritting her teeth as she strained to speak. “Yeah, I’m his mother. I take care of him. I raised him. I taught him his ABCs and his one-two-threes and helped him learn to cook and, yeah, when he hit puberty and his father started punishing him for his sinful urges I helped take care of that, too—so they could be my fault instead of something he had to whip himself over.”

James snarled and clenched his fists helplessly. He crossed his arms so he wouldn’t waste his energy hitting the pavement. He shouldn’t feel anything because he shouldn’t even care about Zephyr, but the thought of Zephyr getting hurt made him seethe. He felt as strongly about it as if they had passed his own little brother around between them.

“I guess like is called to like, huh? Did you two plan on ruining his life when you got pregnant?” he asked. “Or did you adopt him just to give yourselves a plaything?”

JJ’s eyes skittered to blue. She swung her partly severed arm to grab the asphalt. Her fingers dug into it, pulling her ruined body toward James. Her teeth clenched in pain and rage. “He’s mine! My baby!”

“Then how could you do that to him? How could you let it happen? You’re his mother. You should have protected him,” James shouted back.

[soupbabe]

Slasher x Reader Soulmate AU Headcanons

Featuring: Carrie White, Brahms Heelshire, Vincent Sinclair, Poly! Ghostface

I'm a sucker for soulmate aus and wanted to write for Carrie dhdkdbdj

Carrie White

♡ Red String of Fate AU: Everyone has a red string attached to their soulmate that only they can see ♡

- Growing up, it was hard for Carrie to accept the little red string around her finger, to accept the concept that there is someone destined for her

- She always kept a pessimistic view of soulmates, something her mother transposed onto her

-Definitely a "Just because you have a soulmate doesn't mean that they'd have to like you" mindset with Carrie

- When she saw you, the new kid at school, she couldn't help but get giddy

- She didn't even have to look at the red string connecting you two to realize what was going on; the feeling to be close to you and the rosiness on her cheeks gave her a clue on what was going on

- She went on the route of avoidence, hiding out whenever she saw you in the halls, opting for yearning to avoid any future hurt she feared

- It's no surprise that you were the one to confront Carrie about your connection first, coming up behind her with a big grin on your face

- Scared the daylights out of her omg

- An event like this would trigger her powers to go off, like bursting a nearby lamp to get away

- Safe to say it takes Carrie a long time to be adjusted to her soulmate, but once she does she's the happiest she's ever been

- She gets so giddy around you dhdjdgdsjns

- Your relationship are secret, from both the school and her mother

- She attracts a lot of bullies and she's just afraid that something bad will happen once people hear about it

- You're utterly prescious to her, she'd go to hell and back to protect her soulmate <33

Brahms Heelshire

♡ You see the world in black and white, though once you see your soulmate the world explodes into color ♡

- He'd never tell them, but he's always been jealous of his parents and their story about soulmates

- He despised how dull he lived his life, he longed for the days his s/o will come into his life and take care of like any good soulmate should

- He's went through caretaker after caretaker, killing them for both not being the one for him and being bad nannies

- Over time he got impatient, angry that his soulmate hasn't shown up yet,,that was until he saw you

- You weren't even meant to be there in all honesty, you were simply an older sibling meant to accompany your sister to her interview with the Heelshires

- At first, Brahms was not happy about hearing someone accompanying the new nanny, but he was taken aback as he watched you from the walls

- Both Mr and Mrs Heelshire we're startled out of their right minds upon hearing the sudden banging within the walls. They excused it as a rat issue and immediately went to have a talk with Brahms, who panicked over seeing the world's colors for the first time

- They were less than pleased to know that two people would making their stay, but they couldn't say no to Brahms's soulmate

- He's a bit more eager to show himself off to you, to find a way to get your sister out so you and him and have the mansion to yourselves

- Although it doesn't really take much once you finally got to meet Brahms and spend more time with your soulmate, she hated the "no going out" rule and Brahms was a bit blinded by your presence to care about such rules

- Besides, she's not the one who should be following his rules now, Brahms has you to take care of and love him now

Vincent Sinclair

♡ Whatever you write on yourself also shows up on your soulmate ♡

- Vincent always had the habit of drawing on his arms, whether it be rough sketches to remind himself later or a small smiley face, he always kept a small marker with him at all times

- Cue his surprise when he saw a foreign smiley face on his arm back one day

- Now, the topic of soulmates weren't commonly brought up around the Sinclair household when they grew up. Besides, while I'm sure Trudy and Victor loved each other, they weren't exactly what you'd think of as soulmate material

- His parents were never the type to teach him much about it and Bo gave up hope on his s/o a long ass time ago. The phenomenon wasn't as important to his twin, but it didn't stop Vincent's curiousity

- If you lifted up his sleeves there would be marks upon marks of you and Vincent's conversations, asking questions about each other. Such a shame whenever you tried to reveal specific details about you like your name or a drawing of yourself, it'd never show up on Vincent's end

- I can imagine him using his arm as an art project of sorts, documenting each interaction with a click of a camera and saving them all for a collage. You gave him hope for a soulmate and he's going to use this energy for his creative talents

- As fate would have it, you would find yourself taking a ride with Lester to Ambrose, something about a broken fanbelt

- It's always the fanbelt

- Your arms were on full display (you would be a madman to wear a long sleeve shirt during a Louisiana summer) and Lester took notice of familiar handwriting on your hand

- Let me tell you- Lester, ever the hopeless romantic, got so excited that his brother's soulmate is with him. Gotta call the boys to make sure they spare you!

- As odd as the situation was (and add the fact that Vincent just straight up kidnapped you to make you stay with him), it didn't take too long until you adapted to Vincent and his usual hobbies. Maybe it's that natural force that naturally brings you together

- For a while you two were in a honeymoon stage, Vincent finally has you in his grasps and he's never letting you go. For days on end he'd be with you, writing his name on his wrist so everyone knows you who belong to

- Vincent couldn't be happier

Poly! Ghostface

♡ You have a timer on your wrist that counts down to you and your soulmates' first encounter ♡

- Billy and Stu felt like they had it all figured out when they first met and their timer met 00:00:00

- That was until it restarted the day after

- I feel like Billy would take this situation harder than Stu

- Like does this mean Stu isn't his?? If Stu isn't his, then why does he already feel complete and understood with him around??

- It makes him feel like something is wrong with him and it sparks up more rage within Billy. And he one of the best ways to get that rage out is through Ghostface

- With Stu tagged along, the Ghostface duo went through an impromptu rampage, targeting isolated couples who were outside

- You just so happened to be a witness, letting yourself known by screaming as you saw some couple get gutted

- This caught the attention of Stu who excitedly chased after you and tackled you down, straddling you in place for the final kill of the night

- Billy got done with the couple and quickly made his way to his boyfriend to see what was taking so long. When he came within view of you something unheard of to him

- You instinctively raised your arms in front of your face in a weak at defense, unintentionally showing off the countdown from three seconds to zero on your wrist

- Holy shit

- Quickly, with him still straddling you, Stu took a look at his wrist, unmasked himself, and showed off a toothy grin at the realization

- "Hey'a soulmate!"

- Billy took a look at his wrist and noticed it went back to zero again

- Yeah, you all had a less than desirable first impression, but Billy (and certainly Stu) couldn't care less

- While the situation restored Billy's confidence, it definitely made Stu's ego even bigger

- Man is just hyped to know that the world fated him with two hot babes as his lifelong partner

[linkspooky]

Megumi and Toji

Megumi knows almost nothing about his father, his early memories are of being abandoned. His only family is Tsumiki as far as he’s concerned. It’s clear he doesn’t regard himself as a Zenin, or Toji’s son. He doesn’t even recognize Toji when they meet again briefly. However, though Megumi’s not even aware of it there’s a lot of story parallels between father and son. Toji serves as a cautionary tale of what Megumi could become if he does not grow up and learn to handle his emotions properly. MORE UNDER THE CUT. 

1. Inherited Trauma 

I don’t know if you’ve noticed this yet, but the Zenin family definitely has issues. They exclude anything which does not fit their arbitrary standards as an outsider. We don’t really know Toji’s backstory. We don’t have to know either, it obviously doesn’t excuse his actions. However, we see the after-effects of him being thrown out and scapegoated by his own family by the time we see him in the hidden inventory arc. Not only that, but from the clan’s treatment of Maki, we can theorize a little ibt of what Toji has been through. 

Maki and Toji were both born without cursed energy and labeled as defective and wrong because of it. It’s clear both of them developed bad, hostile, even downright violent personalities in order to cope with a home environment that was constantly hostile to them. 

In Maki’s case, it’s not that Maki is a hateful person it’s that she’s conditioned not to accept any kind of love because she was never shown the unconditional love of a family she was owed. When Yuta tries to accept her, Maki rejects him because she doesn’t know what that feeling of acceptance and security is like if it’s unearned. She ties it to strength, she has to be stronger than the Zenin clan, she has to prove she’s better than them and that they were wrong about her in order to earn it. 

Maki is so busy trying to reject everything that the Zenin clan stands for, that she can’t really accept other people’s feelings at all positive or negative. She’s too busy thinking about herself, protecting about herself, trying not to hate herself that even the feelings of Mai who loves her, but in a more complicated way is something she can’t accept. She doesn’t want to think about mai’s feelings because she’s too busy with her own, Mai is an afterthought to her. 

Maki has a complicated way of dealing with the abuse of the Zenin family, and I assume Toji did too. The only difference is that Toji is an adult, whereas Maki is still an adolescent. Toji was set in his ways, Maki is still in the middle of changing. 

Toji is labeled as “the one who is left behind, the one who is free”, it’s very likely especially considering the way he treats Megumi and distances himself from anyone related to him, that Toji’s way of dealing with the Zenin family was to simply reject all of it. He couldn’t accept the hatred of his family, but at the same time he also couldn’t accept any kind of positive emotions too, like love between a father and son. It’s likely Toji can’t even accept the idea of having a family, or the unconditional love of a family because he’s never had it - not that any of that is Megumi’s fault.

 Toji grew up completely isolated from his own family until he was eventually thrown out, and he probably had no idea how to raise a family, but he turned around and inflicted those same circumstances on Megumi. Toji grows up alone, Toji makes Megumi grow up alone because he fails to provide for him as a father. 

Toji deliberately made a choice to throw out Megumi along with the rest of his family trauma, that’s his self reflection upon the moment of death. He wanted to throw away everything and live for hismelf, but he threw away Megumi too. 

However, from Meugmi’s perspective his father gave him the name ‘Megumi’ and left. Apparently Toji was around so little that Megumi doesn’t even recognize his face whent hey meet again as a teenager. He married Tusmiki’s mom, got a divorce, and presumably left Megumi there. 

Megumi grew up with no idea of what a family was, except for his step sister, and also completely isolated from others. He grew up with the same sense of isolation and distance from his family that Toji did, lacking totally in the unconditional love a child needs from his parents in order to grow up, because Toji was never even around for Megumi. Megumi just by default assumes that his father either didn’t love him, or just plain forgot about him. 

2. Like Father, Like Son.

However, despite the fact Toji wasn’t even around to raise his son, Megumi turned out a lot like Toji. There’s a lot of parallels between father and son, probably because as stated above Megumi grew up in isolated circumstances, completely cut off, never truly receiving the parental love or guidance that he needed to help him mature into a emotionally healthy adolescent able to process his feelings and handle them properly. 

Both Megumi and Toji respond to their emotional trauma in the same way, by suppressing themselves and all their feelings, and rejecting the feelings of everyone around him. Megumi isn’t even able to hear the news that his dad died, because he insists that already in first grade, he doesn’t care about his dad or even want him around. 

This is you know, a lie of course. Megumi’s a first grader. All children want a parent. It’s just, Megumi’s way of dealing with his feelings is to just pretend that they’re not there, to pretend he doesn’t care. A first grader is not really mature enough to think of his family situation in these terms, or cope with these feelings. Megumi is simply pretending to be mature as a way of pretending to deal with his hurt feelings. 

We as the audience know that Megumi is a deeply caring, and deeply feeling person. However, Megumi himself seesm to be in denial of this fact. 

Megumi’s response to all of thes icky gross feelings he has for people, soft feelings that makes him feel vulnerable because while Megumi cares deeply, circumstances have taught him that people do not care about him, or at least Toji didn’t care enough in Megumi’s eyes to stick around. Megumi’s response is the same as Toji’s, he shuts everyone out, he insists he doesn’t care about anyone. 

He can’t accept anyone’s feelings because he’s too busy rejecting everyone. He can’t even accept the positive feelings of familial love his sister has for him, he almost begrudges her for it. Tsumiki chose to see him as family, different from Toji who he feels didn’t choose him and Megumi just couldn’t realize that until it was too late. He’s so used to being abandoned and unchosen that he doesn’t know what familial love even looks like in Tsumiki. 

This is also something that Toji does to Megumi. It’s said in a bonus in volume 8 or volume 9 that after the death of Megumi’s mother, Toji insisted that he “stopped caring about everything.” We see this repeat when he’s about to sell Megumi to the Zenin clan. 

Toji insists he doesn’t care, while Megumi tries to creep back into his thoughts, and he keeps trying to help him in indirect ways. Toji wishing for a better future for his son than he had, while at the same time, selling him off for the money he plans to gamble away at the race track. Toji forgetting his son’s name, and then remembering it on the brink of death and asking his enemy to do something about it. These are all compeltely contradictory behaviors because Toji has no healthy, adult way of processing his emotions. 

He’s just used to pretending he doesn’t care about things, that even when he obviously does care it’s what he keeps falling back on. It’s the same as Megumi’s complex with saving people, he insists he hates people, that he doesn’t want to save them, and then he goes far out of his way to save people like Yuji. 

3. Growing Out of Your Father’s Shadow

They process emotions the same way, both insisting that they don’t care about anything around them, the only real difference is their priorities. Toji is a self centered person who prioritizes himself above all others. Megumi’s a self sacrificing person, he’s continually belittling himself for the sake of other people. Megumi belittles himself to the point where he insits he could never be strong enough to challenge Gojo. Being the strongest individual is just never his priority. 

Toji however is someone who climbed to the top of the Jujutsu World to try to prove he could become a better fighter than them without any cursed energy. Megumi is someone who ran away from the challenge of becoming stronger than Gojo, but Toji wanted to prove himself stronger than Gojo so badly he stayed and fought a fight he knew he couldn’t win. 

However, even though their priorities are total opposites, Toji prioritizing himself, and Megumi prioritizing other people above himself they both end up in the same place. They’re both incredibly self destructive people. Toji stayed and fought with Gojo, knowing that he would die. When Megumi is pushed to his limit in Shibuya, rather than try to run away he also sacrifices himself in order to summon Mahoraga in a suicidal move against his opponent. They are even paralleled in the way they’re drawn. 

I think the takeaway from all these connections set up between Toji and Megumi is that even though Megumi doesn’t know his father well he’s a lot like him. They both handle their emotions in the same way, insisting that they don’t care when they in fact care deeply. They both repress all of their emotions until they go crazy from it. 

Toji literally springs from Megumi’s shadow. The shadow is the symbol of repressed emotions. Emotions that people are conscious of, the ones they acknowledge are usually represented by light, deeper emotions, the ones they repress and refuse to acknowledge are then referred to as the shadow. The brighter the light, the darker the shadow. The more Megumi pretends not to care about his father or his family situation, the deeper the shadow underneath his feet grows. 

Being underneath your father’s shadow is even a common phrase used to describe people who are unable to escape from their parents, and become their own person. There is a connection between Megumi and his father between Megumi and the Zenin, even if Megumi likes to pretend it’s not there, like when he denies any similarity between himself and Kamo Noritoshi.

 A lot of Megumi’s life is dictated by his family circumstances too, he’s just in denial about it. Kamo’s aware to sympathize with people because he’s far more aware fo himself and his family circumstances, Megumi denies sympathizing with other people, because he doesn’t have any sympathy for himself either. 

Zombie Megumi is colored in pure shadow. He’s even referred to as a manifestation of the repressed feelings of the Zenin clan. Those who are restrained by their connection to the Zenin clan, all look in awe at the one who broke free from the Zenin, and free from everything. 

Megumi exhibits the act same behavir as Toji. He suppresses himself, suppresses himself, and suprresses himself and then he just goes crazy. Megumi claims he’s not the strongest, he doesn’t care about being strong, but then he pulls moves like summoning the Mahoraga and Domain Expansion. Megumi just holds himself in until he violently lashes out on everything around him too, he’s hurt feelings waiting to explode. 

Which is why Megumi learning more about his father and the connection between them could be a good thing, not because Megumi necessarily owes Toji anything, but that he could learn from Toji’s mistakes. When Megumi sees his own unhealthy behavior exhibited in another, he can learn to accept the things that Toji could not accept. He could learn to accept connections like family, and friednship, before they become chains that hold him down too hard, until he breaks everything and himself trying to be free. Megumi dosen’t have to become the strongest like Gojo, he doesn’t have to surpass or fight against the Zenin clan. He doesn’t have to save everyone in the whole world like Yuji. The best thing for Megumi’s character development would be for him to learn to accept his own feelings and the feelings of others without going crazy. That’s a strength that neither Toji, nor Gojo could never find in themselves. 

[januarymoreau]

alright so I know literally no one cares about this but it’s my social media I’m doing what I want /lh

I’ve been seeing a lot of slander about justin russo on the internet lately and I’m currently hyperfixated on wizards of waverly place so here’s why justin is an awesome character/doesn’t deserve the hate he gets

He’s kind and treats those he loves well. Justin is canonically really good at comforting people. Although he argues with Alex a lot, at the end of the day, he’s also her older brother and genuinely cares about her. When Professor Crumbs threatens to take Alex’s magic away because she doesn’t turn her report card in, Justin says that Crumbs will also have to take his magic away. Justin is ultimately selfless. We see again and again the sacrifices he makes for Alex and I think we mainly see his kindness in that relationship. Despite that, I think he’s also notably kind to Juliet. When he finds out that he made the mistake of reporting Juliet and her parents, he instantly tries to fix it. Not only does he try to fix it, but he puts his job as Monster Hunter in jeopardy for Juliet and her parents - her parents haven’t even been that nice to him. Justin is ultimately selfless and at the end of the day, he sacrifices himself or what he wants for others. When Rosie turns back into a good angel, instead of selfishly continuing to date her and keeping her in the mortal world (which he could have done - she literally offers to stay with him), he gives her up because he realizes the world needs a guardian angel more than he needs a girlfriend. Even though it hurts because he loved her, he gives her up. There’s no “award” for doing this - he won’t move up a level in the wizard competition, he really won’t get any recognition for giving Rosie up. He doesn’t even get any recognition for turning the moral compass back to good. He does it because it’s the right thing to do. Although later I’ll argue that Justin is constantly seeking validation, I also think that the heroic/good things he does are often done with no expectation of being praised for it. He does them because he has a strong sense of morals. He’s also kind to Harper, Zeke, his parents, and even Max, who people rarely ever show kindness to in the show.

He’s in touch with his emotions. When the show starts, Justin is very against anything that will show him as feminine or emotional. In fact, he even says he’s allergic to emotions (or something like that) to cover for the fact that he’s crying over his missing dog. As the show goes on, we see Justin start to embrace and accept his emotions more and to lose touch with his toxic masculinity. I think dating Juliet changed him in a lot of ways (making him more relaxed, etc), and I think one was encouraging him to be more emotional. After Wizards vs. Vampires, Justin is pretty emotional and open about his emotions in the show. He’s even open with talking about them. In the movie, he opens up to Alex about how he feels like Jerry & Theresa wouldn’t love him as much if he were less “perfect,” which brings me to my next point.

At the end of the day, Justin is a sad character. I know it’s a kid��s show but they really do cover a lot of issues so bear w me. I’m hyperfixated and I like to over analyze shows so I’ve thought about this a lot. Justin is the oldest, which means he already deals with pressure to be perfect. Then, add in the fact that his parents are constantly describing him as the “perfect child” and putting him on a pedestal, while pitting the kids against each other as a result of the wizard culture bc of the family competition (I love Jerry & Theresa but they’re not perfect). He’s also a high achiever and we know he puts extreme pressure on himself to do well - they always make a joke about it but it’s actually quite sad. He literally feels poorly about himself when he gets a B and bases his entire self worth on his grades and skills as a wizard. In fact, in the movie he voices doubt about whether or not he’s good at anything other than magic. I have a few things I want to say about all of this. First of all, I think Justin is constantly seeking validation. I think as the oldest and “best” child, he feels the need to be perfect all the time, but he also does many of the things he does because he just wants validation. When Harper decides to run a marathon, Justin does too, and sadly his accomplishment of finishing it is overshadowed by Harper “winning.” I also think Justin feels threatened by the success of others because he thinks it invalidates his. When he opens up to Alex in the movie, he says that he’s jealous of her because it seems like everything comes naturally to her. Justin feels as if his parents loving his siblings takes away from their love from his. It’s irrational, but very real. Which brings me to my next point - Justin has generalized anxiety disorder. It makes sense - the overthinking, the outbursts he has (Alex refers to it as a conniption once) of panic or frustration, the overachieving, etc. As someone who probably has autism, I also think he’s autistic (which would explain his troubles with tone, struggle making friends, obsessions with things like Captain Jim Bob Sherwood and science, being better w robots than people, and so much more).

Ultimately, Justin has a strong moral backbone. Although he’s a stickler for the rules and this oftentimes leads him to do bad things initially, he always does the right thing in the end. For example, when Justin and Alex go to court and Justin duplicates himself to be his lawyer, his lawyer ultimately proves that Justin is guilty; he even says something along the lines of “We’re Justin Russo. We always do what’s moral and just.” Justin has a strong sense of justice (which could also be from being autistic but I could do a whole other post about neurodivergency coding in WOWP and Disney & Nick shows overall bc there’s a ton of coding) and does what he thinks is right, most of the time. Sure, sometimes he does bad things, but he’s also a teenager at the end of the day and he’s highly competitive.

Finally, Justin Russo is super progressive - in fact, he’s probably the most progressive characters of the show. He acknowledges climate change and actively tries to create a solution for it. In fact, for his science fair project he makes a water powered engine, which would reduce carbon emissions. He also wears a shirt at one point that says “Make art not war.” I will admit that his biases against the werewolf he dated were problematic, but he clearly grew from that because he never held any of that against Mason. He’s also into science and is a nerd and although this is a stereotype, most young people who are into science and are nerds are progressive. I’m pretty sure he also is well aware of current events and would probably read the newspaper. Also I myself headcanon Justin as trans and bi (again could make another post about characters in wowp that are queer)

Little note even tho probably no one will see this - this is all just for fun. If you disagree with anything I said, just say it politely hahsh. Also please don’t make fun of me for this WOWP is a huge hyperfixation and comfort thing for me rn and I just wanted to make a silly little post where I analyze one of my comfort characters. Also I kin Justin so pls don’t like hate on him in the comments.

[five-rivers]

Solutions to Nonlinear Equations

For @currentlylurking for the Phic Phight.  :)

.

“Ancients, Vlad.  I’m not rejecting you because I’m a rebellious teenager and you’re an adult, I’m rejecting you because you’re incredibly creepy.”

Vlad sniffed in what he hoped was an aristocratic manner and raised an eyebrow, minutely adjusting his grip on Daniel to keep him pinned to the floor.  

“We’re human-ghost hybrids, Daniel.  I’d hoped that you’d have realized by now that we are meant to be ‘creepy.’”

Daniel squirmed and began to mutter into the carpet. “Clockwork never acts like this, I’m fine with him—”

Vlad pulled back as if burned.  He hadn’t heard that name in—in—

In a long time.  

Years.  

The thought was almost expelled from his head when Daniel managed to elbow him in the jaw hard enough to make him see stars. Before he knew it, Daniel had slipped from his grasp and zoomed away.  

Whatever aspersions Vlad cast on Daniel’s mastery of his ghostly abilities, the boy was fast.  When he put his mind to escaping instead of picking a fight, he managed it more often than not, to Vlad’s great frustration.  Hence Vlad’s usual strategy of needling the younger half-ghost until fighting was the only thing on Daniel’s mind.  

He set down on a nearby roof.  There went his plans for the day.  Which, admittedly, had consisted of distracting Daniel while his ghostly minions set up a nasty surprise for him at the school, hence making him fail his test, which would, in turn, convince Maddie and Jack to let Vlad set Daniel up with a tutor, something he had suggested to them earlier, and—

Well.  Daniel would find them, now, no doubt.  

Ah, well.  

He had more important things on his mind, now.  Such as, how in two worlds did Daniel know Clockwork?  Because Daniel never just said things like that.  He barely knew anything about ghost culture.  He wouldn’t know to bring up obscure, secretive, ghost historical figures.  He wouldn’t know what that particular name would mean to Vlad.  

Tongues of fire flared out of his fingers, bringing a measure of stability to the gyrations of his core and his emotions.  

Daniel knew Clockwork.  And, it seemed, met him with some regularity.  Enough for him to compare his actions to Vlad’s.  

Would that ghost never be satisfied with ruining Vlad’s life?  Was he not satisfied with—

He cut off the thought, shaking his head.  Never mind that.  

What Vlad needed to do was find Clockwork.  Which meant inducing Danny to go to him at a time when Vlad when Vlad could follow.  Which meant determining when he had visited Clockwork in the past.  An undertaking to be sure.  

He closed his eyes and teleported to his lab beneath his mansion.  

“Maddie!” he called out, even before his body had fully reformed.  

The hologram flickered to life with a faint crackled from the projector.  “What is it, sugarpie?” it asked with a smile.

“Review the audio recordings from Fentonworks,” ordered Vlad.  “Search for the term ‘Clockwork.’  Report findings to me.”

“Sure thing, honey!”

Vlad had to review the cheerfulness settings on the Maddie program.  Maddie was upbeat, but not that upbeat.  This was almost sickly sweet.  

He threw himself into a nearby chair.  

Clockwork.  He thought he’d never hear that name again.  Not after he’d been literally and figuratively ghosted by him.  

He telekinetically pulled a book off his shelf. He ran his fingers over the leather tooling on the cover.  The book had been given to him by Clockwork, years ago, when he was still in that hospital.

Clockwork had been the one to first show him the Ghost Zone, and all the wonders in it.  Clockwork had been his friend, his only friend, through that long, agonizing hospital stay. He had been supportive, wonderful, kind. He visited often, though not on a regular schedule.  He’d helped Vlad ride out the waves of misery and anger that so often threatened to overwhelm him.  

Then, without warning, nothing.  

No goodbye.  The last time he left, he had even said something along the lines of ‘see you soon,’ although the memory was frayed from age and Vlad could no longer recall the exact words.  For a long time, Vlad had worried something disastrous had happened to Clockwork. But then he had finally managed to build his own portal, reach the Ghost Zone under his own power, and, according to every search he did, every line of inquiry that bore fruit, Clockwork was just fine.  

Vlad had been furious.  He had been betrayed.  He had spent the better half of a decade trying to plot revenge against Clockwork, before realizing that was akin to plotting revenge against a god and turning his sights to a more manageable target.  

Now…

Now, Vlad just wanted answers.  Both as to the reason behind his abandonment and as to why Clockwork was apparently repeating history with Daniel.  

“Sweetie pie,” said the hologram, with a chime, “audio processing complete.  There are over ninety-nine instances where the word ‘clockwork’ is mentioned.  Would you like to play the selected files?”

“Yes,” said Vlad.  “Include the video portions where available, and the thirty seconds immediately prior to and following the mention.”

He turned his attention to the nearest screen.  He had a lot of videos to watch.  

There was an envelope pinned to it.  It was sealed with wax, impressed with the image of a pocket watch and the initials CW.  Vlad attempted, and failed, to suppress the growl that grew in the back of his throat. Was this a joke to Clockwork?

He tore the envelope from the screen, ripped it open with equal viciousness, and began to read.

.

Three cups sat on the tea service tray next to the teapot.

“Are you expecting someone else,” asked Danny, “or am I going to break one of these?”

Clockwork chuckled as he began to pour the tea.  “The former,” he said.  “Although you may always surprise me with the latter.”

He handed Danny his cup.  Danny inhaled deeply.  It smelled sweet.  “What is it?” he asked.  

“A chamomile blend,” said Clockwork.  “For calm.”

“I think Sam drinks chamomile before she goes to bed,” observed Danny, offhandedly.  “Who’s coming?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Danny made a face.  “Do you have to be mysterious all—”

The front door of Clockwork’s lair slammed open, and Danny jolted forward in alarm – the only people who regularly did that were the Observants, who didn’t much care for Danny – but Clockwork put a steadying hand on his shoulder and rewound his tea into his cup.

“Clockwork!” came the expected yell.  The yeller, however…

“Is that Vlad?” asked Danny, not quite scandalized, but more than a little surprised.  

“Why, yes,” said Clockwork.  

“Did you – Clockwork, did you invite him here?”

“Other than the Observants,” said Clockwork, “no one can enter unless I will it.”  He took a sip of his tea.  

“But,” started Danny.  

Clockwork raised a hand.  “Don’t worry, he’ll find us soon enough.”  He repurposed the hand to pat Danny’s knee.  “And even should he prove to be in a combative mood, I will not allow you to come to harm.  You are safe here, Daniel.”

“Thanks,” mumbled Danny, looking away, towards the door in the sitting room through which Vlad would presumably enter.  

Sure enough, a few seconds later Vlad half-flew half-skidded into Clockwork’s sitting room.  He leveled an accusatory finger at Clockwork.  “You!” he proclaimed, with a great deal of venom.  

“Hello, Vladimir, I’ve poured you some tea.  Why don’t you sit down?  I understand it has been some time.”

“You under-?  No!  I will not sit down!  I will not drink your tea.  Not after you abandoned me for over a decade, just like that bumbling oaf—”

“Hey!” interjected Danny, not only because Vlad had once again insulted his father, but because he could tell that Clockwork, regardless of his stoic façade, was actually quite upset.  

“Don’t interrupt me, Daniel,” snapped Vlad.  “You don’t know what this, this ghost is. What he does.  You don’t know that he gets close to you, makes you think you’re friends, and then drops you without a moment’s notice.  Did you think it was funny to string along a man in dire straits? Did you?”

“I did not abandon you, Vladimir, I—”

Vlad scoffed and went on a tirade that Danny honestly found hard to parse.  But it sounded like Vlad and Clockwork had known each other in the past and then fallen out of contact in a way that aggravated Vlad’s abandonment issues.  Which didn’t seem like Clockwork at all, but Vlad sounded extremely certain and insistent, and Clockwork’s upset was actually finding its way into his voice, now.  Danny didn’t—

With all the force and abruptness of epiphany, Danny realized what was going on here.  

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Danny, putting down his cup. “Vlad, breathe or whatever.  Clockwork, you did tell Vlad that you experience time nonlinearly, right?”

“Of course,” said Clockwork, clearly offended.

“But Vlad, ah, had you gone through natural portals often when you met Clockwork?  Or, like, did you ever see him without him initiating contact?”

“I didn’t have my portal built yet, Daniel, so, no.”

Danny turned to Clockwork.  “Why did you-?  No that doesn’t matter.  Haaauuuhh, Clockwork, do you have-?”

Clockwork waved a hand and a whiteboard appeared.  

“Thanks,” said Danny, picking a marker up from the little shelf on the bottom.  He uncapped it, then recapped it.  “Actually, before that.  Vlad—” he pointed at Vlad, who looked about one second from exploding “—you have some idea of how old Clockwork is, right?  Or at least how old ghosts can get?”

“Yes, Daniel,” said Vlad, managing to overlay his supercilious ‘I know better than you’ attitude over his still obvious anger.

“Okay, great.  So, just to establish, Clockwork has been around at least since, uh, beginning of time?”

“Give or take,” agreed Clockwork.  “Although I have not experienced it all directly.”

“Right,” said Danny.  “Just, already, his perception of time is different from our because of age differences.”

Vlad looked slightly less angry, and slightly closer to curious.  

“But, then, there’s the larger issue,” continued Danny.  This time his uncapping of the marker was decisive.  He drew a flat, straight, horizontal line across the whiteboard.  “This is our timeline.  We deal with time linearly.  We’ve also got, I don’t know, parallel timelines, like this.”  He drew several more lines.  “You following so far?”

“Yes, Daniel, I’ve read my share of science fiction.”

He was probably rolling his eyes.  Curse his solid-colored red eyes.  It made interpreting his looks and figuring out where he was looking during a fight much more difficult.  

“Anyway, Clockwork isn’t on any of these lines. Because he experiences time nonlinearly.”  He drew a squiggly up and down line on the board that resembled the world’s saddest sine wave.  Or cosine wave.  There wasn’t a y-axis on the not-quite-graph, so it wasn’t like anyone could tell the difference.  They were effectively the same.  

And Vlad still made fun of him for failing math. Danny knew plenty about math.  He just didn’t have time to do the work.  Mostly because of Vlad.  

“Now, that, that is Clockwork’s timeline.  It isn’t always in contact with ours.  It’s, like, solutions to a system of equations. Nonlinear equations,” he specified, in case it had been too long since Vlad had encountered basic high-school-level algebra.

“It is somewhat more complicated than that, Daniel,” said Clockwork, exasperated.  “It’s more of—"  

“Yeah, but this gets the idea across more than the whole parade metaphor, doesn’t it?”

“I would say not.  This doesn’t even begin to touch on my abilities.”

“That’s because we’re just talking about your perception of time,” said Danny.  He considered for a moment.  “And also your ability to interact with our timeline.”

“Which includes my ability to perceive multiple timelines.”

“But that’s complicated, and I still don’t get it,” complained Danny.  

“It is less complicated than what you are currently trying to explain.”

“To you maybe, but the whole point of this is that you aren’t seeing things the same way we are.  You disappeared on Vlad, what, a decade ago?”  He looked to Vlad for confirmation.  

“A decade is hardly any time at all,” said Clockwork with exasperation.  He sipped at his tea.  

“It was fifteen years.”

Clockwork made a somewhat dismissive motion with a gloved hand.  “It’s a tiny fraction of your life as a whole.”

“It’s… closer to a third of his current lifetime,” said Danny with a wince.  “Or a fourth?  I don’t know how old you are, dude.”

“I went to college with your parents.”

“I know, and you were already graying then. Your age is weirdly hard to place.”

Vlad gave Danny a look, but his body language was no longer screaming ‘I’m going to beat the snot after you.’  Danny counted that as a win under the current circumstances.  He disliked Vlad, but in a fight with Clockwork… Well, Clockwork could demolish just about anyone.  

Not that Clockwork would.  Just that he could.  

“Daniel—”

“Please, Vladimir.  Just sit down.  Try the tea. I made it for you.  I knew you would be upset, although I could not see exactly why.”  Clockwork was almost pouting, now.  “Fifteen years is such a short time.”

“Clockwork, I’m fifteen.”

“I know,” said Clockwork, patting Danny on the knee. “Your timeline is so small.  And cute.”

Vlad was now distinctly on his back foot, offput and disarmed.  “His timeline is cute?”

“It is.  Don’t worry, yours is almost as cute.”

Vlad opened and closed his mouth like a dying fish. Danny pushed the whiteboard away.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he said.  “Like I said, different perception of time.”

“I really didn’t mean to make you feel abandoned, Vladimir.  I simply wanted to give you some time to, ah, how should I put this?  Have space?  Find yourself?”

Vlad sat heavily on the couch.  

“You get used to it,” said Danny.  “But, Clockwork, do you think you can talk him into having fewer evil plans?  Because, really.  There are way too many.  Like, one a week.  They’re destroying my grades.  Have you ever seen anyone else who had weekly evil plans?”

“Evil plans, Vladimir?  Really?”