#mentioned this to t but i need this here for future reference

[jonasiegenthaler]

[orphiclovers]

okay here is the theory/headcanon i mentioned in this post

both han sooyoung and kim dokja decide that the best way to get yoo joonghyuk's trust is by saying they're prophets, even knowing his anna croft history. they both refer to the 46th scenerio in their 'make me your companion' speeches (implied to be what 41!shin yoosung told him to make him trust her during the 2nd round) so clearly this is a tried and true method, and they expect it to work.

and yeah, anna croft betrayed him in the 2nd round, but this doesn't seem to make him distrust all people with future knowledge, just her? He also still tries to seek out The Disaster of Floods help in his next round (and when that fails he turns to kim dokja). He very much still wants a prophet to tell him what to do, anna croft just wasn't the one

i don't know if he has no faith in his own decision making skills but the second someone other than him proves capable of making a plan, he follows that one instead. (and the only thing yjh sees as making you capable is knowing the future - so usually its only him unless he meets another prophet)

he doesnt even need to know what the plan is! he will follow it even when it actively makes things worse for him and against his better judgement, just because a prophet says so. (even 1863, who has literally more knowledge than any other round, still decides to follow hsy's plan over his own)

and im not kidding about the 'against his better judgment'. he lets hsy let his sister die. he doesnt kill anna croft because kim dokja said so. WHYYYYY SUCH TRUST YJH DIDNT WE LEARN FROM ANNA??? i kind of get kim dokja, but there is no love lost between him and 1863!hsy. yet he still follows her plan to a T.

my theory is that yoo joonghyuk's blind faith in prophets makes sense if theres some remnants of the 0th round in his subconsoious memory.

the round where he got carried through the scenerios and reached the end bc dkos was giving him future knowledge. and he doesnt remember this, but what if subconsciously, he knows that he reached the end with future knowledge once? so it should be possible once more?

do you think yoo joonghyuk looks at prophets in hopes one of them might be the the one he doesnt even know hes searching for?

[autistichalsin]

I have tried to avoid discourse around this ever since November, but since people are once again upset at the ultimatum (which doesn't seem to trigger in game yet, though it has been voiced) I guess I will offer my defense of Halsin.

A lot of the anger at Halsin here boils down to "he's against Minthara, therefore fuck Halsin," ignoring that Halsin has very good reasons to not trust her. (And also purposeful misinterpretation of his comments about HER to be about all Drow).

So first of all: We need to look at what has happened to Halsin in his life before arriving at this point.

Yes, obviously, there is his captivity with a Drow noble house, but I think people are kind of just forgetting what that means here. It isn't "he hates all Drow now because of his trauma", which is an almost insultingly reductive take. Minthara is from House Baenre, the top house of Menzoberranzan for centuries. She is at LEAST 200 years old, and likely older; she witnessed the downfall of House DeVir, and was old enough for her to fully understand it, but "young enough that it left quite an impression on me", likely placing her between 200 and 300 years old. Halsin is 350, and was kidnapped as a young Druid- likely between 100 and 175. There is a very good chance that Minthara was a young adult when he was a captive, and he would have heard about her evil actions long before encountering her in the goblin camp. He would know who she was before the tadpole.

Halsin was a captive for at least a few days if not longer, tortured in his bear form (the goblin lashers are mentioned at least a few times, not to mention rocks being thrown at him, Gut mentioning threatening to cut him open and put maggots in his belly, etc), and had his Grove threatened by Minthara.

Most important, and most easy to miss: this ultimatum is planned for if the Rite of Thorns is carried out, hence the reference to Kagha's foolishness. He has lost his home, his place of worship, and the people he considers his family forever. Watch his reaction after you tell him the Rite has been carried out; his world comes crashing down, he lets out the tiniest "the Rite of Thorns? no", and he is so upset he no longer asks you to take out the leaders. He says he needs to be alone for a while. He is grieving the loss of everything he had, everything that got him through the loss of his original family, and it is directly because of the Cult of the Absolute.

Now, let me go through some rebuttals to arguments in Minthara's favor.

She doesn't mean Halsin any harm at this point.

Rebuttal: Halsin has no way of knowing this. Her actions have already demonstrated otherwise- she has caused him harm. He has no tadpole to see her true intentions, like the other players, and Minthara doesn't make her case particularly well. She simply says she "has no quarrel" with him. Not an apology for his sufferings in the past or the loss of his home. If she doesn't regret the harm she caused him, he has no reason to trust her.

And of course, Minthara DOESN'T feel any remorse, whether or not she raids the Grove; if she does succeed, she'll later say her only regret is not making the choice to do it herself. Because she is evil and that's how evil characters work.

2. Halsin works with Shadowheart/Lae'zel/Astarion/an evil-aligned player; Halsin is willing to sleep with the Seldarine Drow twins; Halsin is forgiving and wants a better world for all, this should clearly include Minthara too.

Rebuttal: by rescuing him and saving the Grove, the former four have shown themselves to be capable of good deeds. He is very consistent that his one redline is DO NOT FUCK WITH HIS GROVE. If you DO NOT FUCK WITH HIS GROVE, he will give you the benefit of the doubt. If you FUCK WITH HIS GROVE, he is done with you; if the player raids the Grove, he will hunt them down and attack them, no matter what the player tries to talk him out of it.

FURTHER, he very much calls the party out on any future evil deeds they do (I.E. Shadowheart slaying the Nightsong if she's on the Shar path), and will leave the party if the player sinks their approval low enough.

The Drow twins are Seldarine, not Lolthsworn, and having a one-night-stand is very different than trusting someone as an ally.

The "wanting a better world for all" thing is of course subject to the paradox of tolerance. In the epilogue, it is very specifically mentioned that their commune is "hidden from those who are not welcome, open to any who need shelter." I.E. those who want to cause harm are not welcome to it, because the "better world for all" can't allow, by design, those who DON'T want a better world for all.

3. Halsin hates her because she's a Drow.

He specifically mentions Lolth-sworn Drow here. "Cruelty comes to Lolth's followers as naturally as breathing. I have seen it- experienced it." Minthara literally only abandoned those ways because she was abandoned by Lolth first- only when it suited her.

She still supports all the same teachings (which is why she openly insults surface elf players the first time they meet, and will tell an elf player who becomes a mindflayer that it was an "improvement"), and she uses slurs against surface elves to boot. Minthara is far more racist against surface elves than Halsin EVER is against Drow.

4. Halsin is condemning Minthara to a fate worse than death (unspoken: out of spite) and this makes him not a good person.

Halsin fully believes Minthara to be a threat to himself and the player. He says in as many words that if it's a choice between Minthara's freedom and the player's, he picks the player. In his eyes, it's a choice between Minthara's freedom and the fate of the world since he knows the player is the only one who can defeat the Absolute. He's in a dilemma similar to the player having to decide whether to let Orpheus die or turn the Emperor into an enemy- it's just that people don't realize because we have meta-knowledge, as players, that Halsin doesn't.

5. That "viper" comment is hypocritical.

He isn't referring to Drow as a whole. He is referring to Minthara herself.

Remember, he knew Kagha before she went bad, and knew she was capable of better (better enough that he made her his second in command). All he would know of Minthara was what she did in the Underdark as a Baenre (including owning slaves, which I'm sure didn't do her any favors), what she nearly did to his Grove, what she allowed to happen to him, and that she's now claiming to have changed when showing zero remorse or actual interest in changing anything. Perhaps it was wrong for him to phrase it it as "cannot" change instead of "will not" change for her, but the sentiment is spot on. Minthara doesn't fundamentally change in any path the player brings her on- what changes is, at best, who she considers it acceptable to subjugate.

6. Halsin has no stakes here, it's wrong for him to demand Minthara go when she has more to lose.

Again, Halsin views Minthara as an existential threat to their plan to save the world. He is lacking in personal stakes by comparison, but remember; he also has lost the only home he knows. That is no small thing.

(From a meta perspective, I do think they should have done something like mention the Shadow Druids/Ketheric Thorm loyalists are still hunting Halsin, just to make it more fair, but this was clearly written with the main goal of enforcing the exclusivity. And honestly, I can't imagine all that many people actually want both in the same party on every playthrough? Mostly I saw people wanting to recruit Minthara on good playthroughs, and wanting to not have to abandon the Shadow Cursed Lands to darkness; many of the people I saw expressing this specifically said they wanted to dismiss Halsin after accomplishing that. This seemed like exactly what those players would have wanted, being able to spare the Grove, free the SCL, and then dismiss Halsin and travel with Minthara.)

7. Halsin owes the player his unquestioning trust after they saved him/his Grove/broke the Shadow Curse. He has no right to question their judgment.

This... really isn't a good way to think? He shows his gratitude by traveling with them to help (when he has no tadpole at all- he's doing this out of pure selflessness to thank the player for helping him), but that doesn't mean he should stop having thoughts on the goings-on. Where is this energy when other characters continuously question your judgment when you have them wait at camp?

8. Halsin is being stupid by allowing her to go be mind controlled by the Absolute.

This is one I will concede. It's not the wisest decision, and I can only guess it's because they didn't want to write Minthara automatically going aggro on the player if they choose Halsin over her. (I, on the other hand, think that would be brilliant, and would be a mark in Halsin's favor for this choice.)

9. This is manipulation of the player.

Halsin wishes the player the best, and leaves without fuss, if they choose Minthara over him; he thanks them for all they've done, and he even says he hopes he's wrong, but cannot stay to find out. He is being sincere; he believes he, and probably the player, will be killed if Minthara stays, which in turn puts the fate of the world in question. He will accept the player's decision if they choose her, but he feels threatened and won't stay himself. This is a boundary, not manipulation, not malice, not anything else.

10. Halsin comes across as uncompromising/unsympathetic; this is OOC for Halsin/ruins his character; he is being selfish; other assorted similar sentiments

I already addressed most of the other arguments with the points above, but I will say, truthfully: I don't find this particularly OOC at all. He has been very clear that his one and only rule is DO NOT FUCK WITH THE GROVE. Minthara fucked with the Grove. He has no reason to trust her. And he has ALSO been incredibly consistent: if you are in a situation where it's someone else or you, you have every right to choose to save yourself. He shows sympathy if Wyll has to let Ravengard die, he doesn't blame the player if they kill EVERY DRUID IN THE GROVE to save the Tieflings, he doesn't even blame the player if they order Orin-as-Lae'zel to kill Yenna, an innocent child he was very attached to. He is devastated at the latter two, clearly, but he blames the Druids for the second for forgetting their principles, and he blames Orin for the latter for making the trap. This is perfectly in line with his Druidic beliefs; you have every right to protect yourself first and foremost.

I get that a lot of people don't like the ultimatum (worth noting is that this has always been part of the series; in the first two games, characters of different alignments would outright refuse to work with each other), but it really doesn't make Halsin look as bad as people say, and I feel like a lot of people are being really callous/dismissive/reductive to what Halsin has been through here.

[katerina-marie]

The Uncertainty of Domesticity

Toji Fushiguro x Female Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 of 3

Toji Fushiguro wasn’t afraid of much, though he definitely felt so when he became a widower in the same moment he became a father. Years later, he felt it again when you came along with the same hopes and dreams for a future he never thought he would experience again.

Content: JJK universe but no canon events / strangers & neighbors to lovers / medium burn idk / female reader and referred to as such but left descriptively vague / no y/n / out of character and soft Toji / single-father Toji / SFW (for this part anyway) / Megumi-Mama/Mamaguro dies in childbirth and its mentioned once or twice / cutie pie child Megumi / fluff / slice of life / light angst from Toji's inner turmoil / discussions about having children / pregnancy and childbirth for reader in part 3 (pending) / more notes below.

WC: 6.1k

Notes: I just really wanted to see Toji "I'm doing my best at this single-dad thing" Fushiguro raise Megumi, fall in love again and get a happy ending, so here is me indulging myself. This isn't so much Toji struggling to move on from his late wife as it is him meeting you and then being scared about having a future with you taken away. But not as angsty as it sounds, very much fluff and vibes and snippets of goodness. Also, I am clearly taking liberties with JJK canon, so just go with it.

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

Toji Fushiguro wasn’t afraid of much.

He wasn’t afraid of what went bump in the night, not when he was the one who hunted it once and was maybe a part of it himself in days long gone. 

He wasn’t afraid when he tied himself to the woman he loved in law and name. Trepidation might have jolted Toji awake on a rare night, and the desire to keep her protected from the past of himself gave him the urge to flee on occasion. The balm of her touch and the promise of a new blessing that grew within her stayed his limbs.

Shock muffled all the sound around him as he held the new life she had given him while her’s slipped away in a rush of blood and the shouting of doctors. A nurse helped him collapse into a hospital chair and took the baby from his arms when the growing pool of dark red on the floor—something Toji had once been accustomed to—swallowed his whole field of vision until he saw nothing else. Desperation spread numbness over his body and allowed a high pitched whine to echo in his ears when the flurry of movement in the room came to a slow stop, and a white sheet was dragged over the face of a woman now gone. 

Pressure threatened to cave his chest and Toji curled over his knees to gape wildly at the floor as he struggled to pull in any strangled breath that he could manage. He felt hollow, devoid of anything and one wrong move away from shattering in place. Tears burned his eyes as he clenched them shut, and it was fear that suddenly set in when grief stole any hopes for an optimistic future and left in its wake a bitter vision of unwanted loneliness. 

Toji Fushiguro wasn’t afraid of much, but now he would never again doubt that he was capable of feeling so.

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

5.5 Years Later 

Toji didn’t particularly like having to stop at the grocery store on his way home from work once he picked Megumi up from school. His normally even-keeled son had a penchant for acting up when it came to ensuring that his father put into their basket every sugar heavy, grease laden, and all around unhealthy snack upon his immediate request. Toji would spend the entire time fielding incessant demands while silently praying that he would be able to grab whatever assortment of items he needed for the next couple of days before Megumi descended into an even fouler mood than normal. 

So no, Toji had no intention of going to the store after spending the day at some nondescript high school with an absurdly long name that Megumi would one day attend. His threshold for tolerating tantrums was low after hours of offering his “legal” and “non-life threatening” expertise to a bunch of teenagers with attitudes equivalent to his five year old. Specifically, there was one white-haired punk with a big mouth that somehow managed to push all of his buttons, and by the end of every work day, Toji was eager to return to the sanctuary of his home. 

At least that had been his plan until Megumi opened his mouth. 

“Dad?” he questioned. Toji hummed an answer, but didn’t let his focus wander from the lull of the road in front of him. “Why do all the other kids have moms but I don’t?” 

Megumi’s words were spoken quietly, tentatively, but they struck Toji in the heart just as painfully as he always anticipated they would, and he suddenly wished he had taken the time to read a book or something in preparation for this day—the inevitable question. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Megumi was silent, but when Toji flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror, his son’s eyes were waiting and all too perceptive. 

“I…uhm.” 

Toji had to swallow once, twice, a third time to try and wet his tongue and force his throat to work, and by the time he felt he had composed himself enough, Megumi was peering around the side of his car seat to watch out the window. 

“Can we stop and get some snacks and ice cream instead?” 

Toji was in no state to deny him, so he flicked on his blinker with a resigned sigh. “Sure, why not?”

Twenty minutes later had him remembering “why not.” 

“Can we please go get that bag of chips now?” Megumi tugged on the leg of his pants for the fifth time in the last two minutes, and the edge of his voice was turning petulant. Toji was struggling to recall the list of groceries he had left on the side of the fridge, and as he scanned the wall of meat at the back of the store, he squinted in the lackluster hope that he could remember if he had scribbled “chicken” underneath “green onions.” 

“I said to give me a few more minutes, Megumi. We’ll go in second.” Toji curled his fists around the handle bar of the cart and he felt it reverberate when Megumi kicked at the wheel. “Do you remember if we had chicken in the freezer?” 

He looked down at his son who was already looking up at him with wide eyes, and Toji grunted as he took in the suspicious stains on his buttoned up black uniform, the one untied shoelace on his left foot, and then decided that despite Megumi’s unusual habits for a child his age, maybe assuming he would remember a random hunk of meat deep in the freezer was asking too much for a kid only halfway to six. 

“Now can we go get the chips?” 

Toji had to take in a deep breath and close his eyes to count to ten before feeling calm enough to answer. “Just give me a second. Please.” 

It was Megumi’s turn to huff, and he took a step away to spin in slow circles as Toji looked back at the meat selection. He took a minute to mumble through what he could remember from his list and then weighed the options of having to come back to the store if there wasn’t chicken in the freezer, or buying another pack anyway but then losing space if there did happen to be some already in there. Ultimately, Toji decided to just get another package of chicken and threw it into the cart. 

“Alright, Kid,” he said, angling his head to look over his shoulder at his son, “now we can—Megumi?” 

Toji cut off abruptly when he realized the space his son had previously occupied was now empty. He swiftly scanned the open floor of the store for that familiar spiky black hair, but could only see a few random parents and various elderly getting their weekly groceries. Toji figured Megumi had made haste for the chip aisle, but panic still quickened his heart nonetheless, and he hurried off to find him. 

“Megumi!” he whisper-shouted, trying to keep his voice low to be mindful of other patrons, but Toji was growing more nervous every time he leaned over the front of his cart to duck his head down an aisle, only to find it empty of his son. The kid had short legs and Toji’s back was only turned for a minute, but he was struggling to believe Megumi could vanish that quickly. 

“Megumi!” he said a little louder. He looked up at the indicator signs hanging at the end of each aisle, and when he caught a glimpse of the one containing the chips just two away, he lengthened his steps and opened his mouth to call for him again. 

“Alright, Megumi.” Toji heard a voice addressing his son before he was able to round the corner. “You promised me you would tell me what your dad looked like if I got the bag of chips for you off the top shelf. Now, let’s go find him, okay? I’m sure he’s worried about you.” 

When Toji did finally swerve his cart into the aisle, he was met with the sight of you squatted down in front of Megumi as he clutched a bag of chips to his chest. He could see your side profile, acknowledged how striking it was, and took in the heels on your feet and the fine-pressed material of your business clothes, but had little other attention for you before making sure his son was alright. Megumi caught sight of him first, and when he pointed at him you followed his finger, and Toji saw your eyes widen at his approach. He paid you no mind though, grateful when you had the sense to take a step back in order to not get in between a worried father and his child, and he wrapped his arms around Megumi when he crouched down in front of him. 

“What have we talked about, Megs?” Toji stressed. He released Megumi from where he had clutched him against his chest so he could look him in the eye. His tone wasn’t harsh, but it was stern in its urgency and firmness. “You don’t walk off without telling me, you hear? Don’t do that again.” 

The little boy nodded, and his head drooped slightly in response to being scolded. The sight of his downturned lips plucked at Toji’s frayed nerves, and he lifted a hand to ruffle Megumi’s hair in an attempt to soften the moment. 

The clicking of your heels had him noticing you again, and Toji looked up to see you leaning down to grab your basket, body already half-turned away from him, and he stood to his full height at the same time you straightened. 

“Thank you,” he said, and you went still. “I’m sorry if he inconvenienced you, but I appreciate you taking the time to help him.” Toji rubbed a hand against the back of his neck when your cheeks rounded into a friendly smile. 

“He was no trouble at all,” you said, and while your tone was kindly neutral, Toji didn’t doubt the genuineness of your words. “Megumi was very polite.” 

His son shuffled his feet when you turned your attention on to him, and Toji caught the tint of pink that flushed the back of his neck and ears. 

He chuckled and patted his shoulder gently. “Well, that’s good to hear.” He hesitated a moment, using the pause to further take in the style of your hair and the way your eyes twinkled under the harsh fluorescents of the grocery store, then held his hand out as he took a step forward. “I’m Toji.” 

You met his hand halfway, shaking it twice as you gave him your name, and when the two of you separated, there wasn’t quite as much distance between you as there had been moments ago. 

“I don’t think I would have had any trouble finding you,” you giggled, and though your voice was sweet and your eyes crinkled in something that maybe could’ve been flirtatious, Toji thought you looked just a bit shy in the way you rocked gently on your toes and held your basket down in front of your legs so you could bump it off your knees absentmindedly. 

You didn’t present yourself forwards to him or tilt your head in a way that was meant to entice, and while Toji couldn’t ignore how pretty you were or the way you had let your eyes quickly take in his height and the breadth of his shoulders (he didn’t think it was his imagination when you lingered on the scar in the corner of his mouth) he was grateful you maintained an air of simple friendliness.

You motioned towards Megumi with a flutter of your hand. “The resemblance is uncanny.” 

Toji hoped his answering grin wasn’t strained. There was no denying how similar he and Megumi looked, from the shared black hair and angled jaw to how he had been told that the two of them even scowled the same. It warmed his heart to know his son looked like him, but it also brought with it a strange sense of disappointment that he had to search so hard to find his late wife’s features since they were mostly obscured by his own. Toji wasn’t sure which way he would rather have it. Each sounded equally painful, to not notice her much at all in Megumi, or to be struck in the face with the ghost of her every time he looked at his son.

“Yeah,” Toji said, “so I’ve heard.” 

When your grin faltered slightly at the corners, Toji worried that he hadn’t done as good of a job concealing the hurt in his voice. You studied him a moment longer before your eyes darted over his shoulder and then off towards another aisle as one of your legs slid backwards. 

“I’ll, uh, let the two of you get going.” You smiled again at him and offered a small wave to Megumi from where he was mostly hidden behind his father’s legs. “It was nice to meet the both of you.” 

Toji nodded in agreement and Megumi sent back his own tiny shake of a hand before you each turned to go your separate ways. A little twinge in his chest made him wonder if he was missing out on something, but the window of opportunity already seemed to have passed. Once you were gone, Toji looked down at his son and tapped the top of his head to get his attention.

“I’ll let you push the cart, but you have to promise to never run off again, you hear me?” 

Megumi immediately whipped his head up to stare awe-struck at Toji as he awaited confirmation, and after a nod from his father, he scrambled to get in between Toji and the cart, hands up and fingers just barely curling around the handle. Toji offered some guidance, but for the most part, he let his son do the work as they finished gathering the last of their items. 

All in all, the rest of the trip remained uneventful, and Toji even felt a modicum more confident in grocery store endeavors as he directed Megumi to turn towards the checkout area at the end of the last aisle. That was until, in his eagerness, Megumi yanked the cart abruptly around the corner without bothering to check if anyone was approaching and promptly rammed the opposite end into your legs when you appeared from the other side. 

Toji wanted to die a little as he watched you teeter on your heels while you flailed a hand out to regain your balance, and he was too far away to be able to close the distance in enough time to stabilize you, no matter how much he wanted to. However, in an impressive feat of gracefulness, you managed to right yourself at the last moment, grasping the edge of their cart with the hand that wasn’t holding your own basket. 

“Megumi,” Toji growled through his teeth, slowly enunciating every syllable of his name, and the little boy actually looked chagrined for once. 

“I’m alright,” you reassured him, laughter catching the tail end of your words, and Megumi scattered between his father’s legs when you grinned down at him. “It’s nice to run into you again, Megumi.” 

Toji dragged a palm down his face and embarrassment made the back of his neck feel hot. “I’m so sorry. Again.” 

“Really,” you insisted, “it’s okay.” You couldn’t lie and convince yourself that you weren’t glad to run into the cute little boy with an undeniably attractive father. But, even though there wasn’t a wedding ring on Toji’s finger, it didn’t mean there wasn’t a woman waiting for them at home, and that was enough to keep your behavior completely platonic. 

With the realization that the three of you stood in the middle of the walkway staring at one another, you glanced down at their cart and then off to the right where the checkout was before turning back to them and tossing your hand back in that general direction. 

“Are you guys ready to checkout? There’s a lane open at the end.” 

The three of you ended up in line together behind another customer who had managed to sneak in right before you got there, but it allowed for conversation to flow. You learned that Toji was an instructor at a school just outside the city and that Megumi was in his first year of kindergarten. The boy took a liking to animals, and when you asked about Toji’s hobbies while you paid for your groceries, he only shrugged, but Megumi had chosen that moment to speak up for him. 

“He likes to play with cards and money.” His voice rang loud and clear in the space of the store. Your face lit up in surprise and maybe just a hint of wariness, and Toji nearly dropped the pack of chicken he’d been loading onto the register. Even the employee in front of you three sniggered until Toji cut his eyes towards him. 

He’d have to be a lot more careful about what he joked with Shiu about on the phone when he thought Megumi wasn’t listening. 

“He means Monopoly, like board games or something,” Toji rushed out, and he didn’t think he sounded very convincing, but you didn’t ask for clarification and he caught you stifling a laugh as you turned to grab your groceries. He used the chance of your back being to them to pin Megumi with an exasperated grimace, but the boy was too proud of himself to care. 

“If you want,” Toji offered, taking note of the bags you held in both hands while you stood waiting for them at the end of the cash register, “you can put your stuff in our cart and we’ll take it out. An apology for almost running you over.” He felt a little ridiculous when you cocked your head in consideration, wondering if what he said was out of turn, but it vanished when you set your things at the front of their cart with a smile. 

“I’d appreciate it.” 

He followed out after you, just barely remembering to grab his receipt from the cashier who somehow had the gall to waggle his eyebrows at him, but Toji pointedly ignored the gesture. 

Once outside, he lifted Megumi into the cart to keep him contained while he helped you load your groceries into your car. While the two of you made light conversation, the same nagging feeling that something was about to slip through his fingers itched at the back of his mind. However, Toji had no idea what to do about it. At least, not while Megumi sat watching the two of you, and he certainly couldn’t ask you to wait until after he got his son into his car two lanes over while under the heat of July.

In the end, nothing happened, and Toji was caught off guard by the disappointment he felt when he and Megumi finally got themselves situated in the car. It stayed with him as he drove and tried to keep up with whatever Megumi was chattering about. It plagued him with the images of your smile and what your face might have looked like if he had managed to ask for your phone number. Disappointment had Toji realizing with a shake of his head that he wanted to ask for your phone number because he had wanted to see you again, and that hadn’t happened with a woman—despite the opportunities—since meeting his late wife. It sat heavy in his gut, and he figured it would ease away on its own in however much time it took him to forget about you.

At least, that’s what Toji had thought until he realized that the car that just turned in front of his onto his street was newly familiar and currently parking in front of a house across the road and two doors down from his. He quickly did the same and stepped out of his car with bated breath. You emerged out of yours a second later, and this time he raised his hand in greeting. 

“You live here,” he called as you crossed the street and came to a stop at the edge of his small driveway. If Toji hadn’t been so stupefied by the turn of events, maybe something a little more eloquent would have come out of his mouth.

“For about a week now,” you told him, glancing back at his door as if you were waiting for something. Toji realized that he’d been so busy with work the last couple days that he hadn’t really paid any attention to the comings and goings of any of his neighbors, because surely he wouldn’t have missed you otherwise. “The house was left by a distant family member, but I didn’t have any use for it until my job transferred me here last month.”

“Oh, well, this is ours,” he said, gesturing backwards to his own home. “It’s just me and Megumi.” Toji saw your eyes flash with what he thought was interest, and maybe you confirmed it when you took a couple steps closer to lean against the tail end of his car.

“I guessed that was the case when you got out. You don’t seem like the type to follow home a woman you just met.” You arched one of your eyebrows playfully. “At least not with your son in the car.” 

That got a chuckle out of him, and Toji shrugged nonchalantly. “Not anymore, no.” 

Tentative excitement skittered over his spine when a laugh popped out of your mouth unbidden, and even though you tried to hide it with your hand and turned your head towards your house to shake it in amused disbelief, Toji still spied the way you peeked at him from the corner of your eye. 

“Well,” you said, a little breathless, “I’m going home to make dinner. Have a good evening, neighbor.” The fingers of your right hand wiggled in his direction as you spun around to walk back to your house, and Toji fought to clear the grin he felt stretching the scarred skin of his lip as he opened the car door and ducked inside to grab Megumi. 

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

Over the next month or so, most of Toji’s interactions with you remained frustratingly surface level. You’d holler a greeting to him on the mornings you saw him carrying a struggling Megumi to the car, already ten minutes late and praying his son had a pair of matching shoes on. He could do nothing but shout back as you got into your own car to leave for work. Other times, he’d wave at you as he drove to the store while you stood out watering the few pots of flowers sitting by your door. Once, when you had arrived home from work a little later in the day than normal, you had walked over to say ‘hello’ when you saw him and Megumi outside tossing a baseball. You hadn’t bothered going inside to change out of your slacks and blouse, and Toji had been thoroughly impressed when you ended up being able to chase a ball around with them while still in your heels. 

Ultimately, Toji hadn’t quite decided if you’d react reciprocatively to him or not if he just showed up with a knock on your door to ask you out or get your phone number or any other romantic-adjacent task that he would surely end up making a fool out of himself with should he do it. In an effort to ensure he didn’t irreparably damage a perfectly good neighborly relationship, he refrained from doing anything more than exchanging smiles and conversation when the two of you came into contact with each other. Toji was determined to wait for a bit more interest on your end before he committed to doing anything. 

Alas, in the late morning of a Friday that just so happened to be a government holiday, meaning there wasn’t a job for the two of you to go to, Toji caught sight of you staring up at some wooden decoration that sat at the top pitch of your house’s entryway. He and Megumi had just stepped outside to play. There was a bucket of dark stain sitting next to your foot, and you had a paint brush in hand to go with the shorts and ratty t-shirt you had on. 

Never one to miss an obvious opportunity, Toji grabbed Megumi by the hand and walked him down the street to your house. Once he was close enough, he called out to grab your attention. 

“Need help with that?” 

You spun around abruptly, clearly caught unaware by him (Toji suspected that had more to do with something on his part than yours), but you smiled bashfully nonetheless as you glanced at him and then back to the spot above your door. “I didn’t think so originally, but it seems a lot higher up now that I actually look at it.” 

When you glanced back at him, your eyes were beseeching and your lip was snagged between your teeth, and Toji knew in that second you could’ve gotten away with asking him anything you wanted to. 

He smirked and gave you a nod of his head to confirm his assistance. After a quick discussion about where your ladder was—only to find out you didn’t have one—and a trip back to his house so Toji could grab the one there, he was up and brushing the stain to the wood as you and Megumi observed from below. 

“I really do appreciate it,” you told him, eyeing the way a muscle in his arm flexed with every stroke of the brush. “I think I would’ve had trouble reaching it, even after I would have had to go buy a ladder to do it.” 

His chuckle drifted down to you and the depth of it was exceedingly pleasant to your ears. Movement from behind you forced your gaze from Toji, and you looked back to check on Megumi as he wandered off to peer curiously at your potted flowers. When you decided the little boy was probably harmless to the defenseless flowers, you turned back to Toji and nearly choked on your tongue at the picture he made. 

He was up on the tips of his toes with his arm extended in order to reach the top section of wood he needed to, and the movement lifted up the hem of his black t-shirt. You couldn’t help but take in the pale strip of skin now exposed, nor could you ignore the sharp angles of Toji’s hips and the trail of black hair that ran down under his belly button and disappeared into his pants. As your study took you upwards, you noticed how sweat made the fabric cling to every dip of muscle in his chest, and for the first time in your life, you came to the realization that sometimes more clothing could be just as sensuous as the lack thereof. 

Belatedly, you became aware of how hard you were staring (ogling) him, and you wrenched your focus off his torso to somewhere safer, this time his face. However, to your absolute mortification, Toji already had his eyes on you, and based on the way the green of them gleamed in mischievousness, you knew he had caught you. With your skin suddenly flashing both hot and cold, you sputtered an excuse about getting Megumi a drink before fleeing for the sanctuary of your kitchen, but not before you snatched the little boy’s wrist on the way in to drag him with you. You ignored the way you heard Toji cackling from all the way from inside.

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

At the beginning of autumn, about three months after moving into your new home, the weather had begun to cool down enough that you could open your windows in the afternoon. You sang to yourself as you fixed a snack in your kitchen, and the neighborhood had been quiet enough that nothing had yet disturbed your relaxing Saturday. 

That remained true until a light knock at your front door echoed in your kitchen. You set down the fruit you were cutting in favor of grabbing a towel to wipe your hands on and then hurried to the front door. You paused briefly at the mirror in your hallway to ensure you looked presentable in case a certain dad with the clearest green eyes you had ever seen happened to be on the other side. When you did answer the door, it was indeed a Fushiguro, but one of a much smaller stature than his father.

You weren’t necessarily a stranger to them anymore. Since moving in, when you or them happened to be outside at the same time, you usually ended up chatting or playing ball or something equally mundane when your schedules allowed for it. Toji had spent an afternoon repairing a gaping hole in your fence a couple weeks after staining the wood above your door—you very intentionally made sure to keep your eyes neck-level and above that time around—and you had knocked on their door one Sunday to deliver a plate of homemade cookies after you had watched Megumi sprain his ankle playing outside the day prior. 

So no, it wasn’t quite out of the realm of possibility for a little boy with hair that seemed to defy gravity to appear at your door, but you couldn’t say you had been expecting it to happen either, especially not without his father in tow.

“Hi, Megumi,” you greeted, looking down at him as he scuffed his feet shyly against your welcome mat. “Is everything alright?”

He nodded, not saying anything for a moment before blurting out, “do you have any snacks?”

The question caught you off guard, and you leaned forward out your door to check and see that Toji’s car was still in the driveway. “I certainly do, but is your dad not home?” You obviously weren’t a parent yourself yet, but even you knew that five and half years old was still too young for a child to be left home alone. 

“He is,” Megumi said flatly, and his nose scrunched in disdain. “But he fell asleep on the couch and I’m hungry.” 

You muffled a snort of surprise against your palm and stepped aside to let the little boy in. “I’m happy to share a snack with you, Megumi, but we need to let your dad know where you are.” You considered what to do for a moment as you led him to your kitchen. 

“Do you know his phone number? I’ll call and let him know you’re here.”

 Megumi only shook his head.

“Okay, well…why don’t you sit at the table and eat a couple pieces of fruit, but then I’m taking you back home.” 

He seemed content with your answer and quickly made his way to the table to scramble into a chair as you brought a plate of fruit to him. You were about to ask him how his day had been when you heard a door slam through your window, followed by Toji bellowing Megumi’s name. 

The two of you shared a startled look, both of you now anticipating a possible scolding, and you spun around to dash out your front door. When you made it a couple steps outside, Toji was looking down the sidewalk in your opposite direction.

“Toji!” you called. He whipped his head in your direction and your heart broke at the franticness of his features. “He’s here! He’s okay!” 

His shoulders fell in relief, and as he started to cross the street with those long strides of his, it occurred to you that Toji wasn’t wearing anything other than a pair of grey sweats on his lower half. He was all toned muscle and smooth skin, and between his towering height and the grim set of his mouth, you weren’t sure if you were more intimidated by him or attracted to him, though perhaps those went hand in hand at times like this.

As he strode up your driveway, a small squeak left your mouth and you stumbled back a step to try and maintain the distance Toji was eating up. “I’m sorry, he got here only five minutes ago and I was going to come get—,” 

You were cut off when he lowered himself down to encircle your shoulders with his arms and brought you into his chest for a hug that seemed like it was more for his benefit than yours. You could see just a sliver of what was behind him from over the top of his shoulder and when your hands landed on his back, you were shocked at the heat that radiated off of him. He smelled faintly of some generic shampoo, but it managed to be thrilling nonetheless, and you noted how firm he felt in every point of contact between your bodies. When Toji pulled away—entirely too soon in your opinion—his face was full of gratitude. 

“Thank you,” he said, and sincerity coated every word. If the suddenness of his body against yours hadn’t spiked your heart rate, then the emotion in his voice and the way his eyes stayed locked on yours certainly did. 

“Oh, no,” you insisted, waving your hands between the two of you, “there’s nothing to thank me for! I’m sorry I didn’t let you know sooner and made you worry. I was going to call you, but Megumi didn’t know your phone number and I don’t have it—,” 

Toji’s head jerked back slightly. You flushed hot and hoped you hadn’t sounded disappointed at the fact. 

“Anyways, Megumi just wanted a snack and said you had fallen asleep on the couch, so I guess he decided to come over here.” You were out of breath by the time you finished your rushed explanation, and the only thing that brought you any relief was the fact that Toji’s cheeks blushed the faintest shade of pink as he pinched at the back of his neck. 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he said sheepishly. “I worked late last night and must’ve drifted off while the kid was watching cartoons.” 

His words brought your attention to his face and it was then that you noticed the way the skin under his eyes bruised purple just the slightest, and Toji did indeed look like he needed a nap. 

“It’s no trouble for Megumi to hang out here if you need a break. I’m happy to help,” you offered, dipping your chin and smiling at him.

The circumstances regarding Megumi’s mother hadn’t been told to you yet, and because you didn’t feel the need to pry, you hadn’t asked about it. However, it didn’t take knowing all the details for you to surmise that Toji had been doing the single-father business for most—if not all—of Megumi’s life thus far. 

Astonishment made Toji’s eyebrows jump, but he agreed to the idea after another second and then reached deep into his pocket to fish for something. 

“Here,” he said, holding his phone out to you once he pulled it free from the fabric of his pants. “I meant to do this a while ago.” 

Your heart skipped a beat as you took Toji’s phone from his hand and typed your number into it. When you were finished, you made a call to your own phone, and when your ringtone flowed from the kitchen out the window, Toji’s mouth turned upwards in satisfaction. 

Megumi appeared a moment later to just barely peek his head around your door. Apprehension made his movements slow, and when he caught Toji’s eye, his father’s face darkened. 

“Come ‘ere,” Toji grumbled, waving his hand at his son to beckon him forward. Megumi shuffled out begrudgingly, and you yearned to give the boy a hug, but you figured it wasn’t your place to intervene. Twice now Megumi had snuck out from his father’s (not so) watchful eye, and you had a feeling Toji was about to ensure it didn’t happen again. 

Toji swooped Megumi up into his arm to carry him against his side like a football, and after wishing you their goodbyes, they made their way back across the street. A feeling of joy left by the two of them followed you back into your house, and you made sure to add to your shopping list the brand of chips Megumi had requested your help reaching the first time you had met him.

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

A/N: Luckily, 90% of this entire story is already written out, so I plan to have it all posted by the end of the week.

If you read this pile of self-indulgence, thank you very much <3

[your-name-is-jim]

TOS fans, you may want to read this comic series!

Sooo I recently read this series of comics called Star Trek: Year Five, published in 2019-2021 by IDW Publishing; I heard it was good, but I didn't expect it to be that good!

If you haven't read it, I suggest to check it out! (it's also not hard to find it if you get what I mean)

The art overall is great and, more importantly, the characters act like themselves and there are several references to their canon backgrounds, past and future experiences! What I absolutely loved was also seeing a lot of "old faces" from TOS show, as well as mentions of events from the series and the movies.

As the title suggests, the story takes place during the last year of Kirk's five-year mission on the Enterprise. I'd like to tell you more, but I enjoyed the surprise of a lot of things I didn't expect, so first of all I'll post a few pics without major spoilers from the first 11 issues (there are 25, so you still have a lot to discover!):

I especially love how Bones and Sulu are drawn, they really look like them! Scotty and Uhura too, but that depends on the artist. Speaking of them, if you like a little Scotty/Uhura, this series has something good about it!

The joke about Kirk thinking there's something strange with the way the Klingons look now cracked me up. LOL

Also, I'm not sure Chapel would call McCoy "Bones", but she is very right in that panel. :)

The last panel is classical James T. Kirk's ass appreciation lol

Sulu has a love story with an alien who doesn't understand human genders and uses they/them pronouns. As someone who headcanons TOS Sulu as attracted to any gender, that was great to see :D

I'm also posting this "end-of-the-episode" panel because it's just perfection. TOS in a nutshell. Aww, look at Kirk and Spock just looking at each other! <3

I must say, you may be a little disappointed if you expect to see many moments with Kirk and Spock together, BUT the scenes they have together are really good! I won't say anything more, just read until the end and you'll see! :D

By the way, this series has a Valentine's Day extra, which is the only part where Kirk has a love interest (a female original character). Yeah, you heard me: in the main story, Kirk doesn't have new romances with anyone; Sulu is the one who gets all the action! ;)

The Valentine's Day issue is not linked to anything else and I don't think Kirk's female love interest is mentioned outside that story, so you can easily skip it if it's not for you. However, even if I can't say I'm especially happy with that story, I personally found something interesting there, for example this:

I think I saw this out of context once, but I didn't know where it was from, so sorry I'm just going to lose my mind thinking about ladies or GENTLEMEN in Kirk's life and Kirk not correcting her about his sexual preferences. Anyway, I might make a separate post someday about this special from a Kirk/Spock shipper's perspective, because I do have a lot of thoughts about it :)

So, if you haven't read Star Trek: Year Five, I hope I convinced you to check it out! I hadn't been lucky with other Star Trek comics before, so I had almost lost hope to find something good… and then here it was! Something that made me feel like it was really written with a lot of love for The Original Series! I really needed it!

If you decide to give it a try, I'd love to see your thoughts and see your favorite parts! I hope you enjoyed this little review. :)

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Yandere diaries. || Toby x reader. A new (possible) series I got the idea to do of the creeps doing diaries showing them gradually becoming yandere.

3k words. CW: Yandere, adult content (mentions of arousal and references to masturbation), descriptions of violence and gore, unhealthy relationships, severe abuse, delusions, Toby slipping into insanity and also being an unhonest/unreliable narrator with how awful he’s being.

4/26/22 -

I met someone new today! We bumped into each other at a park I like to go to on Earth. They were so kind to me. We ended up getting ice cream together and exchanging numbers. I hope I can see them again soon.

5/11/22 -

I’ve been able to see them a couple more times. We’ve been messaging regularly, and have also called a couple of times. I’ve never felt so connected to someone so quickly before. We have a lot in common, and they don’t even mind any of my tics or odd quirks. We have a plan to meet up this weekend and go to the movies together, I’m really looking forward to it. I hope we continue to be friends with each other for a long time!

5/14/22 -

I just got home. We had such a fun time at the movies! We saw one of the more recent horror films together. They got scared partway through and clung onto me to feel better, and it made me feel really happy and protective over them. I wouldn’t mind seeing more horror movies with them in the future if it means that they’d do that again. We haven’t known each other very long, but I feel so connected and interested in them, I feel sparks every time they touch me. Is this what falling in love feels like?

6/21/22 -

I haven’t been able to see them for a few weeks because of our schedule differences. I feel like I’ve been excessively sad because of that. I just feel like my life is so much dimmer without them. I wanna go to the park with them again, eat ice cream, and curl up under a tree with them. I wish I could be with them every day.

7/29/22 -

We haven’t known each other for a very long time, but I’m certain they’re the person I’m meant to be with for the rest of my life. They make me the happiest I’ve ever felt, they understand me like nobody has ever understood me before, I just feel so carefree and excited in their presence. I think they might feel the same way about me too. I need to try my best to build up some courage and ask them to be my partner before someone else can.

8/11/22 -

I asked them on a date and they said yes!! I’ve never felt more excited than I am right now!! We’re going on our first date in a few days. I need to make sure I have a nice outfit to wear because I want to take them somewhere nice to eat, and then we’re gonna go for a walk together and stargaze. My life truly feels so complete and wonderful right now, I feel like I’m finally on a path to keep getting better with them in my life!

11/24/22 -

I haven’t been dating them very long, but I convinced Slender to allow me to invite them to Thanksgiving dinner. Normally we have to date our partners for a year, but I just know our relationship is going to work out, so I don’t feel the need to wait that long. They had so much fun meeting everyone, and they were happy the whole time. I felt a bit jealous that they didn’t pay as much attention to me, but that’s okay because there were so many new people they had to meet. I’m sure next time I invite them over they won’t pay anyone else any attention. I’m looking forward to having them over here more often!

12/14/22 -

I got into an argument with Jeff today. I had them over to visit me, and I stepped away for a minute to get us some snacks and Jeff so rudely decided to try and steal their attention from me. It isn’t fair! He was trying to make them laugh and hang out with him instead of me!! I got really angry and I started yelling at him, and he yelled back at me, claiming he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He’s not allowed to just walk up to them and act like they’re buddy-buddy. They’re my partner, and they’re here for me. Nobody else has the right to their attention but me.

12/25/22 -

I got to celebrate my first Christmas with them today. We spent a little bit of time downstairs with the others, but then I wanted to bring them upstairs to my room so we could be together alone. I gave them a bracelet with our names on it so that everyone would know they belonged to someone, and they seemed to like it. However, I got a bit upset at them. They said they had to go home so they could celebrate with their friends and family too, but aren’t I good enough? Aren’t I their family now? It doesn’t make any sense to me why they couldn’t just stay at the mansion, but I let them go. I’ll have a talk with them about this later.

1/24/23 -

We had another argument again. They have this friend that keeps overstepping his boundaries and I don’t appreciate it. He’s been hogging their attention recently and hanging out with them more and it’s seriously fucking pissing me off. They wouldn’t stop talking to him so I had to lie to them about him to finally get them to back off from him a bit. I wouldn’t normally want to do that, but it’s for their own good. Nobody should be hogging them away from me that much. Their friends are lucky I even allow them to talk with my dove at all. I think that’s what I’ll start calling them, now that I think about it. My sweet, soaring Dove.

2/17/23 -

I ended up getting into a fight with one of Dove’s friends. I was trying to make sure I could spend Valentine’s with Dove, but this friend wanted to be able to see them that day since he’s going on a trip soon or some other stupid excuse. It pissed me off. IM their boyfriend, that day is for US. I confronted him to get him to back off but he had the nerve to stand his ground. I had to beat the shit out of him to get him to understand his place. It’s been three days, and apparently, he hasn’t contacted them since. Good. One less pest I have to worry about. Dove was a little suspicious when I came home with torn-up knuckles that day, but I just told them it happened during training and they believed me. They even took the time and care to bandage me up. They really are so special to me. Nobody else can have them.

3/18/23 -

I’ve never really thought much about blood before. When it’s on myself or my victims, I’ve never really cared about it, I’ve actually usually thought it was gross, but it was different today. Dove got this gash when we were out on a hike from tripping and slicing their arm on a sharp rock. Normally the blood wouldn’t have bothered me, but it was just so pretty. The red spreading across their skin was just so alluring. Of course, I got them cleaned off and patched up as soon as I could, but my heart is racing just remembering it. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I hope they get cut again soon. I have to confirm if this feeling inside me is real or just a one-off.

3/28/23 -

It wasn’t a one-off. We were cooking, and they were using one of our sharper knives. My curiosity got the better of me, and I “accidentally” bumped into them from behind. They ended up cutting themself, and their blood was just as alluring today, flowing freely out of their finger. I ended up putting their finger in my mouth to suck the blood off, and I’ve never tasted something so intoxicating before. They were a bit confused, but I just played it off and they let it go. Holy shit. I feel like I have to taste it again. I have to. The red on their skin, the metallic lingering taste in my mouth. It’s so addicting. It honestly made me a bit excited, I had to take a moment to myself so they wouldn’t notice.

4/16/23 -

I bit them. We were making out, and I just felt myself getting so worked up. I pinned them down on my mattress, and I started kissing down Dove’s neck. I couldn’t help it, my heart was beating so fast and I felt myself getting dizzy, and I bit them really hard. Their skin was so soft in my mouth, and blood started oozing out, running against my teeth and my tongue, and my lips, it was so warm and exciting, it felt like I was getting drunk. Dove didn’t like it though. They screamed and cried and begged me to stop, and I didn’t want to, but I did. I bandaged them up and apologized and feigned innocence. They said they wanted to go home early, so I took them to not get on their bad side anymore. I was so worked up though. I had to take care of myself when I got home, I was just so turned on. I have to do it again somehow. They won’t like it, but I have to. Nothing has ever felt so pleasing before.

4/29/23 -

I tried to bite them again, and they realized it wasn’t an accident this time. They yelled at me and hit me to get me off of them, and I hit them back much harder. They looked so broken and upset while they cried, but their tears and screams got me just as turned on as their blood did. The bruise that formed on their cheek was so beautiful. I held them close and apologized a whole bunch because I don’t want them to hate me. I cried a lot and I meant it. I promised I wouldn’t do it again, which I guess I didn’t mean. However, they can’t just disobey me like that. I need to try and be on my best behavior so they can be more relaxed around me. I can’t have them fighting back every time I want to do something to them.

5/09/23 -

I think my Dove needs to be caged. They’ve gotten so used to flying free that they need to be grounded and brought back to reality. I keep trying to limit their interactions with others because they keep poisoning my Dove against me, and Dove tried to fight me today. We got in a big yelling match, but I was able to calm myself down in the nick of time so that I didn’t make things worse. I got them to calm down, and we’re gonna have some space between us for a few weeks. I think I’m going to take this opportunity to my advantage.

5/30/23 -

While we haven’t been spending time together, I’ve been working hard. I found an old house in the Underworld for cheap, and I’ve been rebuilding it and fixing it up. I altered it to be able to hold Dove in without their escape, and I’m so excited about it. I’ve got a bedroom I’m setting up for them, and a nice kitchen because they’ve always liked cooking with me. I know Dove is going to love it so much when I bring them here in a few weeks. It’s going to be the best thing for us. Dove is too innocent about the world around them, and I have to be able to protect them. Nobody else can do a better job than I can.

6/08/23 -

[Parts of the entry have been torn. Words are smudged or crossed out and it is not completely legible, but some of it remains visible. *Full translation will be added at the end for those that use translators/text to speech.]

I CAN'T FU—— BELI— TH—!! DOVE WAS TRY— TO MOVE!! THEY W— TRYING TO LE—E ME!! THAT STU— BASTARD [Redacted] TRIED TO TA— THEM F—M ME! WHEN ALL IVE ———— IS PROTECT TH— AND THIS IS —— REPAY ME?!? I'VE NEVER BE— SO ANGRY!!!

Dove is FUCKING LU—Y I had the home re—y! If not, I wo—d’ve just thrown th— in the fucki— basement!!! [Redacted] got wh— they deser—. I be— the- so bad you —— —king recognize —. I’ll du— the bo— som—ere else.

7/06/23 -

Dove hasn’t been making things any easier. Since they last tried to move away things have been such a fucking pain in the ass. They were so scared when I locked them in here. I wanted it to be a warm welcome, where I’d bring them here voluntarily, but they had to go and ruin it because of [Redacted] sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. They tried to run away a few days ago, and I went to write about it but I was so fucking pissed I ripped the page to shreds. I had to break their ankles so that they wouldn’t be able to run again, least not for a long while. I’ve also been keeping them tied up more, but it’s easier now that they can’t walk. The bruises on their legs are just so beautiful. I think I might keep them like this, even though they cry every day from the pain and the circumstances, but their tears are beautiful as well. I have to get more painkillers soon for them.

10/18/23 -

It’s been a while since I’ve updated. Things have been going smoother lately. Every time Dove’s ankles start to heal, I’ve been breaking them again. I just can’t trust them because they tried to escape again. I’ve been enjoying myself a lot more. I can bite them and cut them and hit them whenever I want to. I can taste their blood and chew their skin and bruise their beautiful body however I like. Of course, sometimes it makes me sad when Dove gets so upset about it. I don’t know what to do. It gets me so turned on and riled up like nothing ever has before, but I also want them to love me. They haven’t been fighting back anymore, so I think they’re getting used to it. We’ll see.

12/25/23 -

It’s our second Christmas together. I got Dove a bunch of things they asked for since they’ve been so good. They seem to have given up hope of resisting me, and it’s made me so happy. They even made me a cake for Christmas, and it was so delicious. I’m so happy we can be together again like this, just a happy couple with no interruptions. It’s truly the best gift I could have received this year.

2/16/24 -

I’ve been letting Dove’s ankles and legs fully heal. They truly haven’t been trying anything, and they’ve been so devoted to being a good partner for me, I don’t think I need to break them anymore to teach them a lesson. They can nearly stand on their own now, and they seem so happy. They said it’s because they can hug me while standing, and that made me so happy to hear. We’ve started cooking together again. We’re becoming a happy family, and I’m so glad I was right that Dove is the one for me. They even let me bite them as much as I wanted today, and they let me scratch them too, they didn’t even cry out today. I could tell they were trying really hard, so it made me very happy.

4/25/24 -

Things have still been going well. Their legs have healed up perfectly. It’s been five months since I last broke them, and I think they’re so grateful for it. They don’t disobey me, they do everything I ask, they’re so affectionate and loving with me. It makes me so happy to know that they’re truly settling into life with me. I don’t think they mind how much I hurt them anymore. They don’t complain as much, but they still cry those same beautiful tears for me. I think they’re starting to enjoy it.

5/26/24 -

I have to go on an extended trip for a week soon because of work and I’m nervous. They said they’ll wait happily for me, but I’m still so, so nervous. However, earlier this month I was gone for a few days and they didn’t go anywhere. Dove actually welcomed me back happily. I think we’ll be okay. I think this is it, the true test. I know they’ll pass, but still, I can’t quiet the anxiety in my heart. I’ll have to spend as much time as possible with them and get out all my excitement before I have to leave. I’m going to miss the feeling of their skin beneath my fingers and teeth.

6/11/24 -

[This page has also been smeared and torn in anger. *Another fully corrected version will be at the bottom.]

I — FUCKING BE—VE THEY DI- TH— AG—!!! THEY R— AW—!! THE- STOL- SO MU— —IT FRO- ME!! THEY TO— THE MO—Y I HA- HIDDEN!!!! THE- TOOK FO— AN- CLO—— AN- LEFT!! I- SO FUCK—- ANGRY!!! I'LL K— THEM!!! I JUS- MIGH- FUCK— KIL- THEM!!! AT TH- VER- LEA— THEY— NEVE- WAL- AGAIN! WHEN I ———— NEVER ES— AGAIN! LOCKS, CA—S, CHA—S!! WHAT—— IT TAKES!!!!!!

Dove, you’d better pray to —y FUCKING DIETY in EXIST—— THAT I DON- FIN- —U!!! When I d-, you’re goin- to su——— much for do— th— to me.

--

6/08/23 -

I CANT FUCKING BELIEVE THIS!! DOVE WAS TRYING TO MOVE!! THEY WERE TRYING TO LEAVE ME!! THAT STUPID BASTARD [Redacted] TRIED TO TAKE THEM FROM ME! WHEN ALL IVE FUCKING DONE HERE IS PROTECT THEM AND THIS IS HOW THEY REPAY ME?!? I'VE NEVER BEEN SO ANGRY!!!

Dove is FUCKING LUCKY I had the home ready! If not, I would’ve just thrown them in the fucking basement!!! [Redacted] got what they deserved. I beat them so bad you can't even fucking recognize them. I’ll dump the body somewhere else.

6/11/24 -

I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE THEY DID THIS AGAIN!!! THEY RAN AWAY!! THEY STOLE SO MUCH SHIT FROM ME!! THEY TOOK THE MONEY I HAD HIDDEN!!!! THEY TOOK FOOD AND CLOTHES AND LEFT!! IM SO FUCKING ANGRY!!! I'LL KILL THEM!!! I JUST MIGHT FUCKING KILL THEM!!! AT THE VERY LEAST THEY'LL NEVER WALK AGAIN! WHEN I CATCH UP THEY WILL NEVER ESCAPE AGAIN! LOCKS, CAGES, CHAINS!! WHATEVER IT TAKES!!!!!!

Dove, you’d better pray to every FUCKING DIETY in EXISTENCE THAT I DON'T FIND YOU!!! When I do, you’re going to suffer so much for doing this to me.

[thelightsandtheroses]

For You, I Would Ruin Myself | Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!Reader Rating: 18+, MDNI as usual. Summary:  Your career probably just ended last night. Stuck in a long standing but now loveless relationship, your priority was your Hollywood comeback and finally getting the recognition you worked so hard for.  Falling for your controversial co-star, Dieter Bravo, and the resulting scandal was not something you ever saw coming. Word Count – 10k Warnings: infidelity, language, a very light sprinkling of smut, drug mentions, alcohol mentions, references and discussions around eating issues and previous eating disorders, jealousy and resentment, mentions of exercise,  one passing reference to previous suicidal thoughts (no detail), un beta’d, age not specified but potential implied age gap if you squint. Look, I don’t know what happened here, something just took me over this weekend and then I had ten thousand words before I knew it. Banners & dividers are not made by me and are from the talented @/saradika

“You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love The slowest way is never loving them enough Do you really want to know where I was April 29th? Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?” High Infidelity - Taylor Swift

Today

Your phone is in genuine danger of overheating. Notification after notification, missed call after missed call roll in. You can’t face it.

You turn over on the sofa you collapsed into last night, bury your face in cushions and half-heartedly scream.

No one can hear you, but somehow it helps.

Your career might be over.

Everything in you says you need to be on this; you need to respond; you need to have your lawyers and your agent and a goddamn crisis consultant probably. Your reputation, your future, it's all at stake right now.

Hollywood won't be kind to you for a public scandal like this, not when you cheat on someone like Alex, not when it's with Dieter Bravo.

You don’t want any of it.

The doorbell rings. Once.

Twice.

Incessantly. There’s only one person who would do that, who would ring the bell in quite that rhythm.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. He’s not going to go away.

You groggily make your way to the door, only half aware you’re still in last night’s clothes, still probably have last night’s makeup on your face which you’ve now smeared even more.

You want to say he’s seen you in worse shape, but you know he hasn’t. You know you’ve never let him see him like this.

Dieter Bravo is standing on your porch with what can only be described as a sheepish expression. He’s in an infuriatingly comfy looking t-shirt you want to bury yourself in and looks like he’s not long crawled out of bed himself. His hair is wild and unruly, how you like it. It makes you think of how he looks up at you sometimes, eyes wild and a salacious grin on his face, all too proud of the way he’s artfully taken you apart with his fingers, his mouth, him.

“So, you’ve seen it then?”

“Baby, I -”

“Hey, congrats,” you say flatly, “I think you’re probably trending on Twitter now.”

“I’m sorry,” he says without preamble, “I didn’t think this would – how are there even photos?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“They’re being -”

“Dieter, it was always going to be different for you. Different rules, right? You can afford to screw up, hell they expect it. I- I had other expectations put on me. I’ve uh, clearly failed to meet them and I’m going to have live with that.”

Dieter touches your arm gently, grazes his thumb up and down your forearm and stares right into your eyes.

“If you ask me to, I’ll deny it,” he says seriously.

“Hard to deny photos, babe.”

“Photoshop, deep fakes, rehearsing a scene. If you need the out, I’ll do it.” And he will, even if it shatters him in the process. And you’re sure it would, because if you could just deny it, it would damn well break you.

“It’s too late for that.”

“I didn’t want this for you, for us,” he says. “Not like this.”

“Makes two of us.” You take a deep breath. “Do you want to come in then?”

What does that song you used to love say: it was only a kiss, how did it end up like this?

It doesn’t start with a kiss, of course. It starts with distrust, with indifference and frustration.

This was your big opportunity, the role you’ve waited for and it happens to be filming in a beautiful location. You’d begged your agent to find you something new, something mature and intelligent and more than the secondary roles you’d played since your unexpected hiatus all thoseyears ago. You needed more than the pigeonhole Hollywood wanted to push a former child star into. You are tired of being seen that way, feel too old for it frankly, you needed to do something new.

Dieter Bravo needed a redemption arc; after Cliff Beasts 6, after his drug habit became public, after his breakup with Annika who seemed a more public stabilising force. You knew his insurance alone for this film had no doubt taken far more of the budget than it should have. You knew he was trouble. You just didn’t care enough to pay attention to that.

You should have known it would end in disaster.

Before - Day 1 of Filming

Alex is calling his manager again, for another audition, another tour, anything to be out there more. You heard him talking to his manager last week, heard the disappointment that both the album sales are drying up and that movie studios aren’t interested right now either. He has a premiere in a few weeks, they’re hoping that will reignite interest because otherwise it’s not looking good.

He’s a better musician than actor if you’re honest.

You’ve known Alex for the entirety of both of your careers. You were both pushed, or pushed yourselves, into the vicious celebrity beast when you were only children. Alex still has that All-American charm, that safety in his eyes you relied on when you were younger. You’ve been together for more than ten years.

 Everyone loves your relationship.

Except maybe both of you right now don’t love it so much anymore. In the past seven months something has changed; a bitterness has crept in, taken root around Alex.

It’s not that he’s a bad person.

You just don’t think he loves you anymore and it’s killing you. The absence of love is a vine, choking your neck and constricting with every breath.

Every compliment feels bitter; like you’ve deliberately chosen to get some lucky breaks and take his opportunities from underneath him. The work you’ve put in, the sacrifices and accomplishments you’ve made are ignored and turned to mere luck.

It doesn’t matter that the positions were once reversed. You had four-year hiatus from Hollywood that he didn’t - his star rose and yours fell. During those years, people forgot your own accomplishments as you became just Alex Wood’s girlfriend. You’ve been playing catchup with your peers in the years since you started working again and now you’re finally getting somewhere. It’s just that you think Alex has a problem with that.

If you’re honest, Alex Wood very clearly does not want to be known as your boyfriend first, and a celebrity second.

Right now, you’re waiting in your trailer, running lines for your first actual filming scenes with Dieter Bravo for this film that means so much to you.

You’ve heard of Dieter for years but never crossed paths before.  You’ve read about him; the good, the bad, the downright ugly.

This film is a big studio drama, a high budget picture; one that your agent thinks will catapult you to award nominations and you understand Dieter’s agent believes will help undo some of the damage of Cliff Beasts and the subsequent period.

You’re worried about this. Too worried.

Dieter seems like a liability. In your chemistry read, he was almost aloof until the cameras started. He seemed utterly uninterested in even really speaking to you, and you were dubious of him. You’re not sure how someone can seem so lazy, so unbothered about everything and then turn out such heartfelt performances. Okay, he hadn’t had as many of those roles recently, but you know they are in his repertoire.

You need this role, you love the script. It means something to you - your character took root in your heart, you want to represent them well. You’re not sure Dieter is in this for the same reasons.

He hasn’t done anything to indicate that. He’s been pleasant, quiet but professional. It’s only day 1 of filming though.

Alex is only here for the rest of the day - he flies home tomorrow morning. He promise he would help you with this scene, but now he’s busy on the phone and shows no sign of wanting to end the call. They’re talking about cross fit now for some reason, so you stand up and decide to see if maybe Dieter wants to run through the lines, or anybody really if he says no. There’s only a short time before you need to go film this after all.

You wave at Alex to say you’re leaving. You want him to stop, want him to care you’re leaving but he just nods.

Before - Day 2 of Filming:

Dieter Bravo is nothing like you expected. You’re sitting in his trailer, running through an updated script for the day’s scene. To your surprise he’s been alarmingly respectful so far. You’d heard that in Cliff Beasts 6 he propositioned pretty much everyone.

“I think for this line,” he says slowly, “we should be facing each other. I know the script says you’re facing away, but it would feel more natural, don’t you think?” You’re amazed he even has suggestions; you’d expected very little interaction with him off camera.

“Are you really going to wear sunglasses inside?” you ask incredulously. Is he hungover, or strung out again, or is he just that pretentious?

“Yes,” he says, “Did you hear what I said?”

You run through the lines, rolling your eyes at Dieter’s answer. “Take them off, Dieter, they’re not in the script and if you want to face me I’ll need to see your eyes.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Just did.”

“Ergh. Look, why did you sign on for Cliff Beasts?”

“Do you know how few films were being made during Covid? I needed to work, needed to do something, get out of my house and a big franchise like that? The money was good., They courted me, they wanted me. I mean, I knew the script was – I knew what the script was. I didn’t think it would all end quite like it did.”

“I bet.”

“So, you saw the documentary then?”

“I might have scrolled past it on Netflix once or twice, might have accidentally played it for a few minutes.”

“None of it worked out in the end. Annika, any of it. You -” He shakes his head.

“I know.” You’ve seen the press, seen the news reports and blogs and just why Dieter needs the comeback himself. Why perhaps the version you’re seeing is not the same man in Cliff Beasts 6, or the man from Hunger Strike. Maybe this Dieter Bravo is an entirely different man.

“So, what did you do for all those years anyway?” he asks suddenly, snapping to attention and focusing right back on you.

“Huh? Lockdown? Well, I-“

“No. You quit the industry right, for years? Well you came back but …” he trails off.

“Yeah, I guess. I didn’t consciously quit, but it was the right move for me at the time.”

“Drugs?” he asks without judgement. You can’t blame him for that assumption. You’ve been amazed others haven’t come to the same conclusion.

“No, I dealt with some other forms of self-destruction though.” You’d be dead if you hadn’t walked away then, that’s the truth.

You were young and burnt out and anxious. You thought it was normal to count every calorie, to exercise until your head hurt too much to continue. You thought it was normal to throw up with nerves all the time, to be physically ill due to exhaustion, to criticise every part of your body and let others do it too, to hate your voice, hate your mind. Hollywood could be an insidious bedfellow and you’d let it set root in all your insecurities. You almost died for it.

The only way to survive was to walk away, find a way through to recovery. You’d even gone to college, studied an entire degree in another country and enjoyed the relative anonymity of your life there.

You’d truly missed acting though; missed how it made you feel. You’d been your family breadwinner from an early age and so it hadn’t ever felt like a choice you had ever made for yourself.

After several years away from acting, a lot of therapy and after suitable encouragement from loved ones, you chose to re-enter Hollywood, but on your terms. You made a choice when you never had thought it was even a choice before.

Since returning, you’d been involved several indie films, you even returned to your TV roots for a recurring role as your first break back. You worked your way back into Hollywood’s good graces with small roles, hard work and undeterred focus, and this - this was the result.

“And now?” Dieter asks carefully.

“I’m good, I think.”

“Well, dating that all American boy, you’ve got how many Instagram followers? You must be pleased, your comeback’s working.”

“It’s not like that. I like acting,” you say emphatically, “I like getting to wear another character for a bit, tell their story, y’know? And screw social media!”

“I get that. You’re uh - not what I expected.”

“Same.”

“Hmm, yeah?” He places to an arm on the sofa, his hand so close it’s almost touching your collarbone. He’s wearing rings and some sort of beaded bracelet, loosely tied around his wrist.

“So, um, let’s try it your way,” you say, taking a deep breath. The trailer feels hotter somehow.

When he scoots closer to you on the sofa in his trailer, his thighs lightly touching yours and looks in your eyes, you can kind of see it.

His eyes are crazy beautiful.

You can feel heat swimming at the bottom of your stomach. You notice how his eyes darken, how he licks his lips for just a second.

Fuck, he’s a good actor.

Before - Week 2 of Filming

Alex hasn’t called you in three nights. He said he needed to prepare to write his new album and so he’s been on a trip with his band to Nashville for the past week.

The night before he left, he told you that he was concerned you were trying too hard with this new role, that you needed to be less - less you because everyone would think you reeked of desperation. He told you to relax and smile more.

His words have haunted you ever since.

Maybe you’re not ready for this, you think, maybe you are trying too hard.

You can’t talk to Alex though because he’s too busy with his band to text you back either, it seems. He has enough time to update Instagram though.

You’re not sure if you miss him or not.

“If you weren’t here, what would you be doing?” you ask Dieter as you sit in your trailer, in full costume running through yet another last-minute rewrite. The director was taken by a particular view at sunset and demanded the scene was rewritten to incorporate this completely.

“I’d have another gig,” he replies confidently, “I don’t think I like being out of work too long these days.” You think back to what he said just a fortnight ago about why he took Cliff Beasts 6.

“I meant if you weren’t acting,” you clarify.

“Oh, painting,” he replies without hesitation.

You stare at him with surprise. You hadn’t expected him to answer properly at all; you’d asked Alex the same question once and he’d said he’d always be this way, always have these jobs, just how Dieter had started out his answer.

Dieter had taken your flippant question seriously though and with confidence. Painting? You haven’t thought about that before, hadn’t thought of Dieter doing that before. You can’t help looking at his sizeable hands for a second, wondering what he would like painting.

“You paint?”

“Yes. It’s - it’s all art, all of this. I guess that’s who I am.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, just think about his words.

“What about you? What did you do in your temporary retirement?”

“I wrote a little. I think if I didn’t do this then I’d want to write.” You pause, before adding, “Am I- am I trying too much?” You need to know, and you trust that Dieter will tell you the truth.

“In this role? No. Why?” Dieter looks at you with vague distraction, as though you’ve completely pulled him out of character, away from wherever he was for the moment.

“No reason.”

“Why?” he repeats, pouting at you. Is that - is he flashing the puppy eyes too?

You roll your eyes. “Alex just said something.”

“Oh,” he replies knowingly, “that doesn’t surprise me.”

“Why not?”

“He strikes me as the type.”

“The type to do what?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Dieter just shakes his head. “C’mon, then. Show me what you were thinking we should do with this scene.”

Before – Week 3 of Filming:

You’ve learnt a lot about Dieter in two weeks. He favours comfort over style off set; loves a robe and you’ve never seen him wear denim or hard pants outside of when the role requires it. Which as he is playing a former biker gang member is most of the time he’s on camera. It honestly should not be legal for him to look as hot as he does in this role.

He’s surprisingly warm, not as stand-offish as you heard. At least not with you.

Most days you run lines together or drink coffee together in your trailers.

Dieter’s mostly sober now, or at least sober from drugs he tells people. He smokes a lot and you’ve seen him in the hotel bar several times in the evening but he seems in control.

There are no rumours though, no issues. The man is a consummate professional. Not what you expected after Cliff Beasts 6.

You feel like you’ve known him forever.

He might even be your friend. He can only be your friend.

You try and swallow down the way he makes you feel both in and out of character, the way when his hands brush against you at the crafty table it makes your whole body shiver and you’re sure you’re blushing.

You can’t let this go anywhere.

You cannot be that woman.

You try and avoid him for the rest of the day. Run lines with a different cast member, refuse to get a snack for the rest of the day.

Fate has other ideas though when the two of you end up in the same elevator at the hotel. You know you both are on the same floor and that’s at the top floor of this frankly enormous hotel.

“You avoiding me?” he asks casually, standing close to you. The whole elevator is empty but he’s taking advantage of the opportunity to still be as close as possible.

It’s like he knows.

“Dieter, I - we -” You can’t find the words, you don’t know how to say this. What if it’s all in your head and this tension isn’t there? What if it’s just being lonely and pathetic?

“I heard something about you, from Jake the other day,” you say, caught in a wave of bravery. Jake is another of your co-stars, a veteran Broadway actor turned screen actor. He’s playing your brother in the film and the two of you get on particularly well.

“What did he say?”

“He said he’s worked with you before.”

Dieter nods.

“He says that you never run lines or scenes with people. He asked how I got you to agree? He couldn’t believe it when I said I’d just asked and you said yes. So, why did you say yes?”

“Honestly? I wanted to have sex with you - still do.” His bluntness surprises you, but really it shouldn’t. This, right here is Dieter Bravo.

“I’m with someone,” you reply weakly.

“You’re not happy though, are you? I think you want me too. I think you know it.”

How are you only on floor seven? How are there still so many floors to go? Then you’ll be on the same floor and what do you do? Watch him go left and you go right and never talk about it ever again?

“It’s nothing to do with you,” you say as primly as you can. “And we’re very happy.”

“Oh, you look it.”

He is so close to you and you can’t help leaning against him, feeling that solid weight behind you.

“Sometimes, it’s okay to be selfish,” he says in a low voice. “Take it from me.”

“Expert in that, are you?”

”Well, a lot of people would say that I’ve devoted most of my life to some form of hedonism.”

“That’s a strong word.”

“They were some pretty strong drugs, pretty girl.”

“Dieter-”

“Uh-huh, sweetheart?”

“We can’t,” you say. You have Alex, it’s not fair, it’s not right.

“What do you want? Do you want me too?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“When was the last time you were selfish, huh? Did something just for you?” His voice is smooth, low, irresistible. “Why don’t you let me help you? Trust me, I’m very good at this.”

You open your mouth and shut it, unable to argue. You do want him, you know you do. The elevator sounds and the door opens, bringing you out of the moment.

You immediately step out into the hallway and then you freeze.

  You want to say something, but you don’t have a script for this. This is one of those moments; you’re at a bifurcation. Go right and never know what could be, but know it’s the expected pathway. Or follow him, choose something else. Be selfish.  

   You turn and face him, look at his darkened eyes, at the way they���re almost imploring you.

You move just fractionally closer, position your face closer to his. Just a little more and you’ll be kissing. 

He meets your lips first, takes away that first move you’re too hesitant to commit to. He breaks the boundary for you.

He closes his eyes after a second, deepens the kiss.

 This was inevitable.  You think you knew this was going to happen the moment you looked into his eyes on day two.

You follow him to his room.

Before - Week 4 of Filming:

“Shit, ouch,” you say as your hip is pushed into the door handle of your trailer.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, dragging you with him and back to your sofa.

His hands are on your hips, pulling you onto his lap as he runs his fingers over the hem of your top, traces underneath the fabric to the edge of your bra. Thank God you chose to wear your good bra today.

You can feel him, feel the hardness against his trousers. It makes the heat between your legs even worse.

He smirks when you shudder as he moves his hand down your torso, down to the edge of your skirt and you’ve never been more grateful you decided against jeans when you hurriedly got dressed this morning.

It’s not even six am, you’re due to get into costumes soon - too soon.

Time doesn’t feel like it’s real right now. All that matters, all that counts is the feeling of Dieter’s lips on yours, on his fingers slowly working their way down your underwear, circling that bud of nerves and finding just that exact spot, exact motion that makes you gasp.

“That all for me, darlin’?” he asks, smirking salaciously.

Screw going to the costume department. All that really matters is how he brings you to the edge, brings you past the point of no return, knows all of the ways to make you gasp and see white, see stars.  You think he likes watching you like this - observing when the tension in your body releases and you collapse boneless into his arms.

Does Dieter do this on every set? Is this real, you want to ask, or is this just the film, just the characters taking over you both? Where do Dieter and you begin and your characters end?

It feels real to you, it feels so fucking real.

Before - 6 weeks into filming

Alex has a premiere in LA so you fly out to go with him. It’s for a movie he was in last year. He played the brother of the main character in a cult action franchise. It was the last job he seemed to enjoy and the last big offer he had.

You want to stay where you are, want to carry on filming, stay with Dieter, but you don’t. The guilt has been following you around for weeks because every day you’re more and more sure that this is not a fling.

You know Dieter Bravo more than you think you’ve ever known anyone else. It’s not just the sex, it’s not the way you both desperately crave crawling into each other’s skin, desire and need everything about each other. Yes, there’s a physicality to it, but there’s more too. At least for you. You’re afraid to ask him if it’s the same.

You talk though. Not small topics, but real and honest conversations. You talk in your trailers with sex drunk eyes, you talk in your hotel rooms in sweaty messes.

 You feel like you know him, the real him. The Dieter who likes to paint and yes, is a bit of disaster but he feels like he’s yours. He fits your broken edges and you fit against his.

You don’t want to lose him when this movie is over.  You don’t want him to become an acquaintance you just wave to at premieres and make polite small talk with.

You’re terrified it’s different for him though; you know his reputation, the way he’s floated through life without commitments. Annika was his longest public relationship and he’s admitted to you it was his longest relationship overall too. It didn’t seem to end well. What if he doesn’t anything more now?

Dieter isn’t yours to keep, even if you want to.

So you leave Dieter for Alex’s premiere and go and play the dutiful girlfriend.

For all your concerns that Alex resents you now, that the distance between the two of you is insurmountable because your relationship only works when your light is duller than his, he has been in your life for such a long time. He’s interwoven into almost all your highs and lows. Extricating yourself from that is harder than it sounds.

Alex was there when you were ill; when you almost died and needed to leave the public eye. He was there through the unglamorous side of your life; through you crying over a bagel, through hours and hours of therapy. Your recovery had required so much attention and he had never complained, he was always there. He loved you. You were good together. He’s been your only serious love your whole life.

Is the past enough to carry on now though?

You’re not sure if he loves you, you’re not sure if the two of you will survive the year.  Even without Dieter, you don’t think it would be likely.

Alex doesn’t seem happy to see you when you arrive in LA, even though he wanted you with him at the premiere.

 He scowls when the photographers ask for a shot of you, ask about your film, tightens his grip around your waist.

You stop answering questions they ask you, direct them back to Alex with your widest smile.

You try and look at him with adoration, devotion, to make him the star tonight.  You try and ignore how foreign his hands feel on your waist, try and stop comparing them to Dieter’s.

“I love you so much, baby,” he says as you walk into the cinema after the cameras are gone.

You smile a little wider, look at Alex with what’s meant to be devotion. You practice your role.

You’re thinking about Dieter the whole time.

You have missed your home. The small but eclectic bungalow in LA that’s all yours – a renovation project over the years. You’ve missed your bed, missed your shower, missed hearing the same old birds in the morning.

You’ve really missed your coffee machine the most.

Alex hands you a steaming mug of coffee just how you like it when you walk into the kitchen. He’s scrolling through his tablet as you sit at the counter.

“The reviews are good,” he says, beaming as he finally looks at you.

“Yeah? Of course they are.”                                                                  

“This reviewer said my scenes were a standout.” He points at the article on his tablet proudly.

“Alex, that’s great.”

Alex nods and then flicks to another window. “There’s some good photos of us too,” he says, leaning over so you can see his screen.

He clicks onto the next article and his expression changes. It’s about you. The article frames Alex as your long-term boyfriend and how great it was you flew over with your busy schedule to join him. You think that Ollie, your publicist, will be pleased with the press to be honest, will be happy that the article says the movie you’re shooting now is already tipped to be an award winner when it releases. You immediately you clam up at the thought you’ve taken away from Alex’s night, from him. You didn’t want to do that.

His frown has grown the more he reads the article.

“Huh,” he says, ”you look a little different in this one.”

“Different?” you ask in surprise because it looks the same as the photos in the previous article.

“‘S not a bad thing really, baby.”

“What do you mean?”

You look at the photo more closely.

Oh.

 It’s a bad angle, that’s all it is, right? Maybe you should have skipped lunch yesterday, you’re just a little bloated and the dress was tight anyway and - you can’t look at it a moment longer.

“Oh,” you say, “I mean- the dress was -“

“Exactly, don’t worry about it.” Alex kisses you on the cheek and returns to his scrolling.

Before - Week 7 of Filming:

You turn up the speed on the treadmill in the hotel gym. You hate this. You hate this. Since Alex’s premiere, you haven’t missed a day at the gym.

Dieter walks in. He looks infuriatingly casual in his wildly patterned, comfortable trousers and grey t-shirt. Is he wearing Crocs?

If you wore an outfit like that, the paparazzi would have a field day.

“You haven’t come to see me since you got back.” He sounds miserable, like a grumpy toddler.

It’s true, you haven’t. You can’t blame him for those photos, you can’t blame what’s happening between the two of you, but you’ve clearly lost focus. For Alex to say what he did, you know it was really bad.

It’s not just that though - things have clearly got bad again and if that’s the case you don’t want Dieter to see you, not until you’ve sorted things out, not until you’re ready.

You jump onto the edge of the treadmill, one foot straddling each edge of the machine as you press the stop button.

You’re out of breath as you look at him.

“I just needed to get some training in,” you say.

“There’s other types of training,” he replies, a salacious smirk on his face. And that’s clearly the problem, you’ve spent too much time with him and haven’t left yourself enough energy to train and keep yourself in the right shape. This film matters to you, this all matters so much to you.

“Hey,” he says sharply before softly adding, “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“I - I -” You sigh and step off the treadmill. “I just need to take better care of myself.”

“Care of yourself? What do you mean? Why don’t you let me take care of you, huh? You know I can,” he says with a crooked grin.

“Don’t, please.  Look I know this is just a set-hook up for you, okay?” You whisper, looking around the empty gym, “But this all matters to me. This role, this everything. I’m screwing up, I’m not prioritising correctly. I - I can’t make it any worse.”

“So this is just a hook up?”

“It’s not?” You look at him seriously then.

“I mean, yeah, it uh - it’s nothing, casual - yeah.”

“I thought you wanted it that way.”

“When did I say that I wanted that?” Dieter demands.

“I thought it - I didn’t know it was real for you too.”

You started this conversation with the intention of breaking up with him and now it’s turned into the two of you trying to define your relationship? You step off the treadmill, pinch your forehead. This is too much.

 This conversation has derailed, become messy. You thought Dieter wanted to keep things casual, you thought that met his expectations but looking at him now you’re not so sure.

You can’t do this. This relationship, whatever it is, has distracted you, has removed focus.

Your head throbs and you grip the edge of the machine, look down at the floor.

“Hey, forget us for a second. Just tell me what’s really happening with you,” he says. “What’s wrong?”

You can’t look at him. “It’s stupid.”

“I had to read the whole script for Cliff Beasts 6 and I still took the part. In my defence, I need the money and the plot made more sense when I was on coke.”

“I just didn’t look right in the photos of Alex’s premiere, I’m probably one pound from the costume department putting a photo of me on a target board because they’ll have to alter everything.”

”Stop right there. You’re fucking hot, okay? And what are you talking about with the costume department?”

“Dieter, while people might be fine with you walking around Crocs, they expect me -”

“Fuck that.”

“Even Alex said -”

“Wait, this is what this is about? Fuck him. Actually, don’t.”

“Dee, this is serious.”

Dieter looks at you carefully. “Oh, this is what you meant, isn’t it? The other methods of self-destruction, you - ”

“Don’t.”

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get out of here. Please?”

You take the hand he offers.

Before - Final Day of Filming:

“I can’t believe it’s the last day,” you say as you lie back against the pillows, still gasping. You turn to face Dieter on the other side of the bed, pleased to note his body gleams with sweat like you’re sure your own does.

You don’t want this to end.

You want to see his home in Sherman Oaks, you want lazy mornings and coffee with him. You want to be able to kiss him outside and not care.

Since you came back from Alex’s premiere, since your confrontation at the gym, you’ve finally understood that this isn’t just the movie for him. That it’s real for you both.

It’s real. It’s something.

You trace the lines of the triangle tattoo on his arm, run your fingers down to his wrist, interlace your fingers with his for a second, lean in to kiss him.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whisper.

He looks at you; his eyes dark and heavy, his hair mussed and unruly. There’s a vulnerability in his expression. You had always expected Dieter Bravo to be someone who knew what he wanted, who would be assertive, confident and maybe even selfish. He can be those things certainly, but his puppy dog expression is a little too well practiced. He is insecure and needy too, has more layers and vulnerabilities than he ever conveys to the public.

“Who says you’ll lose me?”

“When this is over… when we go back home. I don’t, I don’t know how we do this. If you even want to.”

He props himself up on an elbow, turns himself so he’s facing you too. “If I want to?”

“We’ve never defined this, never said if it’s more than a fling while we’re shooting.”

“Oh, you have a lot of flings on set then?”

“No,” you say, feeling your cheeks heat. “Do you?”

“What are you asking me this?” he replies, a little defensively if you’re honest. Of course he’s had flings on set before, you know he has,

Is this real? That’s the only question you need an answer to, that’s what you really mean.

“What happens next?” Close enough.

“Well,” Dieter says, leaning over to kiss your shoulder, pepper kisses up to your jaw, “that’s up to you.”

“Me?”

“I can’t put this - this burden on you. If what we’re doing right now was exposed, I’d ride it out no problem. But you - sweetheart, they’ll ruin you. I don’t want you to - I don’t want to destroy your life by being me. And I will.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” you say bravely, “maybe I’d let you. Maybe I want you to.”

There’s an underlying safety in your responses, in Dieter’s words. You have a feeling if you tell Dieter right now that after this shoot ends, you never want to be with him again, he’ll accept it. He might not like it, you hope he wouldn’t like it, but you know he’d accept it.

That’s why you’ll continue this, you know that.

You think of the way he was with you was after realising why you were in the gym following Alex’s comments and that disastrous premiere. He hadn’t judged you, hadn’t tried to tell you that everything in your head was wrong, argued that you looked a certain way. He knew what battles with internal demons were like, so he knew how to support you.

He never actively draws your attention to his efforts to ensure you eat each day, that you don’t overexercise, but you know what he has been doing. Plus, he made his own point about his feelings on the situation in his own very Dieter Bravo way. With his mouth, with his hands, with him.

You know this situation should feel dangerous and wrong, but it’s the safest you’ve ever felt, the most real you’ve ever been.

“I don’t want this to end,” you say after a moment. “But I don’t want to ruin my life, ruin my career either.”

“So we won’t. Won’t end it, won’t ruin you.”

“‘S not that simple.”

“It can be. We can make it that simple,” he says, moving so that he’s over you, so that he can trace kisses back down to your throat, down to your breasts.

“I need to talk to him when I get back, need to end things, do this right.” Or more right at least, you know what you’ve been doing hasn’t exactly been kind. It doesn’t matter if you’re not in love with Alex anymore, it doesn’t matter if the barriers between you are insurmountable, he deserves an explanation.

“Really?” he asks, an apprehensive expression on his face.

“Can you give me some time to do that?” you ask. “Then - then we can do this without the guilt, right? Without wrecking any of our lives? Just give me a little time?”

“Yeah,” he says softly, “I can do that.”

He meets your lips again, kisses you hard and says everything neither of you can say with his actions instead.

Before - 1 Week After Filming:

It’s like Alex knows what’s coming. Ever since you came home from the shoot, he’s wanted to make things right.

“I was an asshole to you after my premiere,” he says to you when he picks you up from the airport, “I’m sorry. Really sorry”

You want to say more, you want to say his words were dangerous and did he want you to relapse, was that his secret unspoken intention? You want to tell him that his jealousy has broken the love between you both beyond repair. You want to scream and ask whether he realises that he’s only happy when he’s more successful than you? You want to analyse and pinpoint when the two of became so separate; mark it on a calendar, file it as evidence.

Things improve though. You can’t help but wonder if it’s because neither of you have booked any jobs right now, both of you are in that quiet period between auditions and confirming your next roles where every day is a temporary vacation. They’ve always been some of your favourite times with Alex before. When things are good with you both, they’re good.

It can’t last.

Dieter Bravo is the leading man in your mind all the time. You email him, text him, call him, sneak over to Sherman Oaks when you can. You even add him to your google alerts, you don’t want to lose sight of him.

You haven’t seen him since shooting wrapped and you feel unmoored. If you thought that the absence and ending the film would dull your desire for him, make you rethink matters then you were wrong.

You need to find a way to end things with Alex, to move forward. You want to move on.

It’s your birthday and despite your desire for a quieter celebration, somehow your team have organised an overly lavish event.

It’s good to see old friends from your hometown though, old co-stars you haven’t caught up with for a while.

It’s just it’s midnight and your feet hurt, and you’re exhausted and tired and really you want to go home.

You want to sneak over to Sherman Oaks and spend the night with Dieter.  You’d like to have him standing next to you right now, have his hands on your waist. That’s your birthday wish.

Instead, it’s Alex with his arms around you and then he’s speaking and you’re only half-listening, only half-there because you can see Dieter in the corner of your vision.  He’s standing with Jake and he’s here, he’s here and you want to go over to him, but you can’t.

You’re not paying attention, don’t realise the room is so quiet until you notice Alex is on his knee and no - no.

Dieter looks away from you.

It’s the worst place, it’s the worst time. It’s the wrong guy.

There are too many people. They’re staring expectantly and this is your nightmare. If Alex knew you, he’d know that. He’s smiling up at you almost triumphantly though.

Why, you wonder, why now?

Whatever happens, whatever you do next is probably going to be one of the worst things you’ll ever do to one of them.

You giggle nervously, eyes darting around such a crowded room who are all cheering you on.

“Baby?” Alex asks, a sudden look of panic on his face.

He looks younger for a moment. You’re instantly taken back to when things were different. When Alex fought for you, supported you, when he held you hand when you cried after therapy appointments. It was a time you’re sure anyone else would have left you in, but he loved you and looked at you with love. You remember how secure he made you feel, how safe when the world was terrifying and all you wanted was to hide away.

Because you’re a coward, because you’re guilty, because you’re scared you say yes when you should say no. The word constricts around your throat immediately, you can taste bile in your mouth.

Alex kisses you as you see Dieter walk away.

“Please, please talk to me,” you plead, standing in Dieter’s porch.

“I don’t think there’s anything to say, is there?” He looks terrible; he’s wearing a shabby robe over what look pyjamas, a glass of whiskey in one hand, the other leaning against the doorframe.

“I panicked. There was a crowd.”

“Oh, well, that changes everything,” he exclaims bitterly, shaking his head.

“I told you what I want, I asked you to give me time.”

“Time to break up with him, princess, not fucking marry him!”

“I am not marrying him.”

“That’s not what you said last night.”

You wipe furious tears away and shake your head. “I know I screwed up, I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. ”

“Are you gonna string me along forever? I mean, dammit!  Are you still fucking him ? Hey, sweetheart, why don’t you tell me which of the two of us is the one who can make you cum the best, huh?” He throws his glass tumbler in his hallway. “It’s like Annika, you, you’re both the same. I was fine before, I was fine before she got me into my feelings and you - you! You know you’re not that special. I could - I could go out and I could find someone else. Someone who will break up with their boyfriend, better yet someone who doesn’t have one!”

“Dee, I said I’m sorry.”

“I’m just your idiot, aren’t I?” he asks helplessly, “It really fucking sucks being on the other side of this you know. Karma is a bitch.”

“No, you’re not. I’ll make it right.”

“Yeah? Do me a favour, don’t call me before you do.”

”Okay,“ you say in defeat. That’s fair, you can’t do this to him. You can’t do this to yourself either.

As you turn away to leave, he grabs your arm, pulls you back.

“Hey, don’t cry, please don’t cry,” he says gently, softly saying your name to sooth you. “Don’t go, don’t leave like this. I’m an asshole, you knew that already though. I’m just - that killed me last night. Don’t go. Please.”

So you don’t.

Before - Last Night:

Alex is staring at you like you’re a stranger. Every version of you he held in his mind has just died behind his eyes.

It doesn’t matter for a second, it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t love you, that your relationship is dead already because you’ve hurt him, humiliated him. You never wanted to hurt him like this.

This is a nightmare. You swallow nervously and pinch your leg, remind yourself you’re still here, you’re still breathing.

“Well,” he says to you with a cruel smile, “you really wanted to lose the America’s sweetheart label, huh?”

“Don’t,” you say carefully, clutching your bag tighter to your stomach like somehow the flimsy thing will shield his words.

How has this happened? How has this got out so quickly? You had a plan.

Five minutes ago, everything was fine, everything was normal. You were at the premiere of the movie you’d had a secondary role in before your movie with Dieter. It felt like such a long time ago since you had been on that set, but it was great to be back with the cast and crew again.

This was always going to be your last public event with Alex. You’d told him you needed to have a serious talk this weekend. You’d even messaged Ollie, your publicist, and told him to prepare for the communications, the statement about what would be your amicable break up.

 It wasn’t supposed to go like this though.

The article, though that might be a generous term for it, wasn’t live while you were walking on the red carpet but by the time you entered the movie theatre, it felt like everyone had seen it.

Your phone has been ringing incessantly and everyone is still staring at their phones, then you and then back to their phones.

You want the ground to swallow up.

You’re just grateful you’re in the lobby, away from prying paparazzi and cameras.

It’s posted on a Alex fan blog - one who wasn’t an official journalist, who wouldn’t have contacted your publicist for a comment and therefore didn’t give an opportunity to your teams to squash the story, Their only focus, only priority was Alex. Now you’re their biggest enemy, so now they’ve exposed you.

It’s more than just a veiled rumour, an allegation, there are photos. Grainy screenshots of what looks like CCTV footage of you and Dieter at the hotel on location, you’re kissing in the hallway - how could you have been so careless, who would have given these to the blogger? There’s a photo of you walking down Dieter’s street that day after your birthday party too, a photo of you hours later with mussed hair and a slight mark on your neck and - you can’t look at any more of them. This has been weeks in the making.

“How could you do this?” Alex asks, a furious and heart-breaking mix of anger of hurt on his face, in his voice.

“Alex, this isn’t the place,” you reply quietly.

“No, it is the place. You fucked Dieter Bravo? How long? How long it’s been going on? It looks, it looks like -”

“Can we please go talk somewhere else. I want to talk to you, I want to-”

“Fuck that. Fuck what you want. Clearly you’re getting enough of that.”

“Alex, please!”

“I don’t know you anymore. Who are you? We used to make fun of guys like him.”

“He’s - don’t. He’s not what you think, he’s  - please, don’t say that. You don’t know him.”

“Well you clearly do, huh? You know, you always want to come across like such a nice girl, but it’s fake, right? You’ll do anything for that Oscar, to get famous! You’re a good pair, the drugged-up sell-out and the ambitious slut!”

“Alex, stop! Please, just stop.”

“Hurts, right? Being exposed like this in front of everyone. Why? Why would you do this to us?”

“It wasn’t mean to happen, but you and I know we’ve been broken for a long time and I just -” You tail off, not sure where to go from there.

“You said yes. When I proposed you said yes.”

“It was in front of everyone, what other option did you give me?”

“You know what? I don’t want to hear it. I stuck by you when you were had nobody, were nobody. I was there with you when you were a suicidal anorexic wreck. I supported, thick and thin, baby. I would have married you. But, hey, I’m not Dieter Bravo so I guess that’s not enough.”

It would have hurt less if he had hit you. How could he bring that up, hurt you that way? Mention the parts of your past that he knows your team have kept out of the public for years. For a second you think see regret on his face before it hardens to something you don’t recognise.

”Nah, I’m done. Doll, you really are the fucking worst,” he says.

“You know what, baby, so are you,” you reply, acid on your tongue and a shrug in your shoulders.

You need to get out of here right now. You can’t hold it together one minute more.

You turn around and push your way through the shocked crowd.

You think you might have just left your career in the lobby with Alex.

Today:

You can’t have this conversation in yesterday’s clothes. You leave Dieter in your living room while you go and change, wash your face, try to do something with your hair.

It’s a marginal improvement.

When you emerge, Dieter is still there. Part of you thought he might have left already. He walks from your kitchen back to your living room with a steaming cup of coffee and a granola bar.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” he asks, handing you the mug and the bar. You don’t want to eat, can barely bring yourself to even think about drinking but Dieter’s face says he won’t let it go until you at least try.

You take a sip, grimace, put the cup down and take a bite of the granola bar. You are surprisingly hungry, despite the sick feeling in your stomach. When even was the last time you ate?

“What do you know?” you ask after a moment. “Did you see - how did they even get pictures? How are there even pictures?”

“I‘ve seen the article. I uh, I saw the video from last night too. Alex was - he definitely got some attention.” An unpleasant expression crosses Dieter’s face.

“Oh.” You didn’t know that had been filmed, no doubt someone had uploaded phone camera footage, or live streamed it, and it had gone viral by now. It makes sense.

You think of Alex’s angry outburst and scowl. You haven’t even told Dieter everything about that yet, your team had kept all of that out of the public domain for years.

“Fuck him for doing that in front of everyone.” His eyes are angry, scanning you over like Alex’s words could have left a physical mark.

“I humiliated him, Dieter. We humiliated him.”

“Do you regret this - regret me?” he asks, looking away from and running a hand through his hair.

“No.” You don’t. You can’t regret him. He’s changed your life, opened you up to something you never knew you needed, never realise you didn’t have.

“Our agents, publicists, all of them are talking. I think maybe the lawyers too because of the photos,” he says after a moment, “I guess they’ll come up with a plan, let us know what’s next, how we manage this. I find it’s best to leave them to that, we can - we can just be here.“

“Right.” You’d almost forgotten you were a commodity, not your own person in Hollywood.

“Hey, we’re not ending this, okay? Right? Unless -”

“No, no,” you say, panic rising because you can’t go through this and lose him too. You just can’t.

You pull him closer to you, let him wrap your arms around you, slip your hands under his t-shirt, up his back. There’s something comforting in his warm skin, in the way you can fit together.

You kiss him, gently at first. He meets your kiss fiercely, saying everything neither of you can with his lips, with his tongue instead. You can almost taste the fear and desire and apologies between the two of you. There’s something else though too.

He pulls away first, takes your hands in his. “Alright then. Forget everyone else, we’re doing this.”

You meet his lips again, pull him closer to you. Your world has just flipped upside down but he’s here and he still wants you and oh, how you want him too.

You need him.

Just as you start to guide him to the sofa, to find the safest, most basic language between the two of you, you hear a slam behind you.

You spin around in horror, only to find Becca standing there, a tray of coffees in one hand and an unamused expression on her face.

“Well, you two have absolutely ruined my week, haven’t you? Do you know how many calls from Ollie I’ve had since last night?  I have never heard a man simultaneously sound so angry and so upset before and I actually watched Hunger Strike, Dieter. ”

If your relationship with Dieter had ever sounded romantic to you , all ideas of that quickly fade once it’s reduced to arguments and fierce debate between two teams.

Neither side can agree on a statement, if there should be a statement, on how to present the two of you, or not.

What both sides can agree on though is that you both royally screwed up by not telling anyone in your respective teams that this was happening. They also agree that the publicity for you is a lot worse. For Dieter, it seems to have weirdly improved his publicity with some journalists instead, except with Alex fans. They are not fans of Dieter right now, but they probably hate you more.

There are a few articles though, Dieter’s publicist says, that are asking if this is a relapse, if Dieter is back on his vices of sex and hard drugs, if perhaps a rehab stay is needed. It all supports his rock n’ roll image though, the longstanding bad boy actor.

“I’m way too sober for this conversation, it’d honestly be better if I was still coked out,” Dieter says by way of justification, “And if you can’t tell, I don’t need rehab because I’m sober, okay?” He looks for a second like maybe he regrets this and then his eyes meet yours and he settles.

His publicist seems to consider that Dieter’s actions while sober are only marginally better than if he’d relapse. Perhaps that’s what they expect of him. The thought chills your bones because this is his team. Surely they have to believe in him.

“Your co-star, Jake, has reached out, said he’s willing to support you both if the two of you want it, and only if the two of you do. He’ll need to know our angle of course first to decided what, and if, he’ll say anything. It’s good to know there could be support. I think his team are pretty pissed,” Dieter’s publicist says from the computer screen. All you can think is that  Jake is an angel.

You never thought you’d face a scandal like this.

“I don’t know if that will help, but it’s good to know. Look, this will pass, all of this” Ollie says to you kindly, precariously balanced on an ottoman in your living room that was only ever intended as decorative. “Tomorrow, next week, there’ll be another break up or inappropriate social media post, or something and they’ll move on. The important thing is to limit damage right now until then. If you had told me this was happening, we could have prepared, could have had plans in place. ”

“I did tell you I was breaking up with Alex this weekend.”

“You missed out that it was because you were hooking up with your co-star.”

“I may have omitted some minor details.”

Dieter coughs at that, meeting Ollie’s resulting scowl shamelessly.

“Oh, yeah?” Ollie says, looking back at you and shaking his head.

Dieter has an arm snaked around your side, but you notice his other hand is twitching, tapping the edge of your sofa impatiently. He needs to smoke, needs a moment away from this.

“Look, let’s take five, come back and decide the plan and just ride this out, right?” you say, looking at Dieter with what you hope is a meaningful expression.

Ollie nods stiffly, disconnects the video call and walks into another room. Usually that’s your study or sometimes yoga room, but today it’s Ollie’s crisis room. You half expect to see old conference phones, flip-boards and sharpies if you walk in there.

You point towards your garden with Dieter, making the universal symbol for cigarette.

Once you’re both in your garden and alone, you exhale. Dieter immediately lights a cigarette, inspects it carefully.

“I fucking wish i had something stronger,” he mumbles.

“Are you okay?” you ask. “No one has asked you if you’re okay. They’ve asked me, you’ve asked me, but no one asked you.”

“This is - not an issue for me. I’m pissed off that they’re - the shit they’re saying about you. Look I’ve had all the bad publicity, this is nothing to me. I mean it’s a little ironic that certain people jump to conclusions I’ve relapsed, the one time I haven’t. Thing is, it all goes with my public image now, right?”

“But if it’s not true -”

“You know it, I know it, the people who matter know it.” He takes a drag of his cigarette. “I didn’t want the story out like this though. Ollie says you’re already losing jobs, losing sponsorships,” Dieter says sadly.

“He also said it won’t last, remember?.”

You reach out to take a drag of his cigarette and lean against him for a moment.

You stare out at the lush, all too manicured lawn ahead of you. You know what the days and weeks ahead look like; the crisis management, the careful words and avoided cameras.

Weeks ago, Dieter had told you that this would ruin your life if it came out the wrong way, that he would ruin your life, and you said it sounded like a challenge. Even so you knew it was bravado, that was why you’d both agreed not to expose yourselves like this. This is a nightmare scenario; you feel a mix of humiliated and angry and hurt right now.

You don’t regret him though, you can’t. And even if you have ruined everything, ruined your career and all that hard work, for him? Maybe that’s okay, maybe that’s not so bad a price.

For a moment you wonder what today would be like if you hadn’t taken that role, if you and Dieter had never met. Would Alex have proposed? Would you still be feeling like your loveless relationship was slowly destroying you, like you would never be good enough? Would you have even realised how numb and sad and alone you were, how much you minimised yourself for others?

If Dieter’s here though, maybe it will all be worth it.

He wraps an arm around your waist.

“I’m not worth this,” he mumbles, kissing your shoulder.

“You are.”

He is.

[moongazeonastarfillednight]

The Terror: When, How, Where... (PART 1)

See part 2 for the end of my sanity (ep 6 through 9. Wasn't enough characters left on the post for ep 10)

See part 3 (and episode 10)

As I am writing the fic, I was getting frustrated at trying to figure out the timeline of the expedition. More specifically, what happens after they dropped the Victory Point Note.

Therefore, in order to organize my ideas, and also because it might be of interests to some of you, I will document here what I got.

Episode 1 through 5 for now.

Methodology

If we agree that the showrunners (and Dan Simmons to an extent) made their research, we should be able to match some of the event of the story with notable point of interests where artefacts and/or remains were found over the numerous searches made to ascertain the fate of the Franklin Expedition

I also tried to take note of all indications of time passing so that I might document their speed travel and the dates when they are not mentioned.

... And the death count. (Departing Beechey Island with 24 officers and 102 men)

Finally, I also used the following website to keep track of sunrises and sunsets: https://www.timeanddate.com/

1927 Admiralty Map

I may be an amateur in this kind of research but I find myself frustrated that the most complete map I've been able to find showing all that was found between 1850 and 1926 is shown on this map from 1927

To be noted, we now know that the Skeleton of H. Peglar was more probably W. Gibson or T. Armitage

The Skeleton of Lt. Le Vesconte has also been reevaluated and is now believed to be that of Harry Goodsir ( :( )

Also, as it happens, if we compare to 2024 maps, we can say that this is not the actual shape of KWI (close enough!).

Therefore, for my own sanity, I recreated with modern maps. Is it accurate? Well, I wouldn't publish it but I think it gives a good enough view of where they went and where they were going:

Where the Ships had drifted to in June 1847 (According to G. Gore's coordinates left on the Victory point note)

Where the Ships had drifted with the Pack by April 1848 (Victory Point Note)

Victory Point

McClintock's Boat Place (proposed to be same location as NgLJ-1)

Camp with Many skeletons

From D. Simmons' The Terror - The Hospital Camp

Peglar Skeleton

Starvation Cove

A Bunch of cairns in the area

Harry Goodsir

Gjoa Haven (Netsilik Settlement)

Fort Resolution (Dear God... look at how far they wanted to walk/Canoe/make portage...)

Matching the Show

Episode 1 - Go for Broke

Location 1 - David Young's grave (71.22, -96.60)

Date: September 5th 1846

Nighttime - None

Daylight - 14h 57 min

Twilight - 9h 03 min

Sunset: 7:51 PM - Sunrise: 4:55 AM

David Young was buried 7 days before they were beset in the ice (see point 3 on the map below).

During the dinner in which we were regaled by the tale of Mr. Fitzjames' Holes, Franklin discuss that they were approaching a bigger channel, which is now know as the McClintock Channel (see point 1 on the map below), meaning that at the time, they were still in the Franklin Strait.

On the day after his death, Franklin discuss their next course and assure that they must be 'nearly in sight of KW Land'. Crozier suggests it might take them weeks to actually make it to KWI. This would confirm what was infer above.

As we can see the two ships fitting in a cozy little cove while the grave is being dug, I would like to propose Point 4 on the map below as Ficitonal David Young's final resting place, on Tasmania Islands

Location 2 - Ships September 1846 (70.25, -98.00)

Date: September 12th 1846

Nighttime - None

Daylight - 13h 45 min

Twilight - 10h 15 min

Sunset: 7:19 PM - Sunrise: 5:34 AM

Well, for this one, we need to use the extrapolation provided by the 1927's Admiralty map by tracing the line from where the ships were known to be in 1847 and 1848 (Point 5 and 6). (see point 3)

For Future Reference:

Travel Time between Loc 1 and Loc 2 - 7 days

Distance between Loc 1 and Loc 2 :70 NM / 80 Miles / 130 km

Average Travel Speed - 11.4 miles a day

Travel Condition - Ice breaking

DEATH COUNT: 2 + 3 (Total 5)

24 Officers and 100 Men remaining

Episode 2 - Gore

Location 3 - The Ships in 1847 (70.15, -98.30)

Date: May 24th 1847

Nighttime - None

Daylight - 24h min

Twilight - None

Sunset: N/A - Sunrise: N/A

Coordinates and Date From the Victory Point Note (see Point 1)

Location 4 - The Cairn (69.66, -98.27)

Date: May 28th 1847

Nighttime - None

Daylight - 24h min

Twilight - None

Sunset: N/A - Sunrise: N/A

From the ships, Gore lead his party to James Clark Ross' Cairn.

Now, in the Show, they found JCR's Cairn without an issue. In reality, while Gore had found the Cairn just fine, Crozier and Fitzjames did not. One of the reason for it is that JCR had, apparently, made a miscalculation in reporting where he had erected the Cairn by several miles. Honestly, the way that Fitzjames had written the words was so confusing, I appreciate that the show made the whole thing so much simpler, ahah. So let's say that it matches what we know now as Victory Point. Easy Peasy! (see Point 2)

To be Noted, we know the dates of departure from ships and arrival at cairn from the Victory Point Note.

Location 5 - The Ice Camp (69.665, -98.32)

Date: May 28th 1847

Nighttime - None

Daylight - 24h min

Twilight - None

Sunset: N/A - Sunrise: N/A

The Camp was raised just beyond the ice ridge that blocked the way form the shore and the Cairn was only a mile or so away. (see Point 3... hidden between point 2)

Of Note: That hail storm's cloud coverage was intense to say the least... So dark :')

Back to Loc 3 (70.15, -98.30)

Date: June 2nd 1847

Nighttime - None

Daylight - 24h min

Twilight - None

Sunset: N/A - Sunrise: N/A

Wednesday is a good day to drink with the Captain :D which makes it the Wednesday following May 28th 1847! So it's June 2nd!

For Future Reference:

Loc 2 to Loc 3

Travel time - 8 months, 12 days or 254 days

Travel Distance: 8.6 NM / 10 miles / 16 km

Average Travel Speed - 0.04 miles a day

Travel Condition - Pack drifting

Loc 3 to Loc 4/5

Travel time - 5 days

Travel Distance: 29 NM / 33.5 miles / 54 km

Average Travel Speed - 6.7 miles a day

Travel Condition - 6 Men hauling Sledge on Ice

Loc 4/5 Back to Loc 3

Travel time - 4 days

Travel Distance: 29 NM / 33.5 miles / 54 km

Average Travel Speed - 8.4 miles a day

Travel Condition - 6 Men hauling ASS and Sledge on Ice

DEATH COUNT: 1 (Total: 6)

23 Officers and 100 Men remaining

Episode 3 - The Ladder

This one is fun because, well... they're not moving! I could point out where Silna ends up but it looks like she remain close enough to the ships that it doesn't matter all that much. So, let's just make note of the date and events:

Location 3 - Ships in June 1847 (70.15, -98.30)

For the duration of the episode:

Nighttime - None

Daylight - 24h min

Twilight - None

Sunset: N/A - Sunrise: N/A

Date: between June 2nd and June 10th 1847

- Silna makes her igloo a few miles away from the Ships

Date: June 11th 1847

- Franklin Dies

- Crozier drafts his resignation letter

Date: June 12th 1847

- Franklin's leg is buried :')

- Lieutenant Fairholme is sent to KWI.

DEATH COUNT: 2 (Total: 8)

22 Officers and 99 Men remaining

Episode 4 - Punished, As a Boy

Another fun bottle Episode!

Location 3 - Ships in same approx position as June 1847 (70.15, -98.30)

Date: November 23rd 1847

Nighttime - 12h 35 min

Daylight - None

Twilight - 11h 25min

Sunset: 11:47 am - Sunrise: 10:51 am

- William Strong's birthday :)

- We know because it's the last sunrise of the year!

- Evans and Strong die :(

They searched for a long time if it was just before 4 pm when they got the alarm and then they came back in time for last sunrise at 11 am...

Date: November 24th 1847 to November 25th 1847

Nighttime - 12h 35 min

Daylight - None

Twilight - 11h 25min

Sunset: N/A - Sunrise: N/A

- Hickey has a communion with Tuunbaq (supposedly next day or so)

- Then Hickey gets evily booped.

DEATH COUNT: 2 + Hickey's postern (Total: 10)

22 Officers and 97 Men remaining

Episode 5 - First Shot the Winner, Lads

More fun in a bottle. These boys are not going far...

Honestly, for this one, the trouble was figuring out how much time had passed. For one, we know it's not yet Christmas because Christmas is, in fact, mentioned in Episode 6 (And Lady Jane's Christmas Pudding, hear hear) as part of the meeting between the officer and there was not yet a cooperation between the Terror Lts and Fitzjames for counting the supplies.

ALSO! That scene where Mr. Wentzell got killed dead over his nail... well, it gave me the feeling that either the review of the crew is not daily or that they've been on Erebus for a short time because 1) Fitzjames doesn't know their names and 2) He has to repeat the instructions about cleanliness... Perhaps they sent the Terrors in waves and not all 50 of them at once.

Other details to be mentionned:

Hickey is not recovered yet and Goodsir suspects he might reopen his wounds from working.

Goodsir has had time to be quite good at speaking inuktitut. Now, he could have had a continuous learning experience from Dr. McDonald since June 47 and before but considering that Dr. McDonald is stationed in Terror and Goodsir in Erebus, I suspect they did not have much time to have a class together...

Finally. Crozier suggests that he would be 2, perhaps, perhaps more... sick from sobering up. He got up just in time for First sunrise (Jan 17th).

So! We can infer that the episode might have spanned over 1 or 2 days (what's with the movement between the ships and the whole Rat Wedding).

My best guess is that the dates for this whole episode would be:

Date: December 14th 1847 to December 18th 1847

Nighttime - 13h 32 min

Daylight - None

Twilight - 11h 28min

Sunset: N/A - Sunrise: N/A

Why December 14th? Because it would be Edward Little's Birthday and I feel like it is appropriate for his character to have his boss send him back to the killing cold for more booze :') (December 16th to December 20th seems more likely but...)

This would give Crozier a full month to recover from sobering up and 22 days for Goodsir to learn inuktitut (impressive!), for Hickey backside to feel better and for Fitzjames to NOT learn the name of his new Terrors.

DEATH COUNT: 3 + Blanky's leg (Total: 13)

22 Officers and 94 Men remaining

That's it for now. I'll do the last 5 episodes soonish...

Conclusion to the first sets of episode: Sunsets and Sunrises were whacky in June 1847 but, so far, distance and travel times make good sense. If the accuracy holds up until episode 10, we might be able to have a pretty good idea of what, when and where everything happened in episodes 6 through 10.

[cheesy09]

[CN] Kiro's Fateful Date

🌸 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date that hasn't been released on the EN server yet! 🌸

[WARNING: I feel like I should mention this here, but if you're not a fan of Romeo-Juliet type tragedies, then I would advise you not to read this date. Don't go in expecting a happy ending, there is no happiness to be found here. Only pain T-T]

[PART 1]

The sun forgives every sin;

The stars will tell everyone their secrets;

And the moon only sighs;

Those who think they can do anything,

Wait for the day when the sun will never come again,

You will see your truest self in the darkness.

[Flashback]

MC: Kiro, Pasha has accepted me as her student. From today on, I'm an astrologer!

MC: When you become king, I'll eliminate worries for you and the country.

Kiro and I lay side by side on the ground covered in Epiphyllum, looking up at the brilliant stars in the night sky.

Kiro: When that day comes, you'll also wear the crown and become my queen.

[End of flashback]

Pasha: How are the preparations for the new king's coronation ceremony going?

An old voice sounded behind me. I banished my thoughts and bowed down submissively.

MC: Everything is fine, teacher, but... the degree of Mars rising has changed.

[A/n: I don't really know much about astrology so forgive me if I misinterpret some of the things the characters are saying >"<]

I worriedly handed over the parchment that recorded the recent star movements.

I had looked through all the scrolls in the tower. The last time such a horoscope appeared was during the reign of the Levina Dynasty, 236 years ago. Since then, the most powerful kingdom on the continent has collapsed into seven, and they've been fighting for nearly a hundred years.

While observing my teacher, I carefully considered my words and expressed my opinions.

MC: I heard... the kingdom of Lys to the west has had some troubles with us recently;

MC: Several lords in the southeast and northwest of the country also refused to pay taxes on the grounds of a poor harvest, perhaps referring to these changes...

Pasha remained silent for a long time, straightening her haggard back slightly.

Pasha: MC, you entered the Star Tower five years ago to learn from me, and you can be said to posses very clear eyes. But what you are looking at is just a small patch of sky above your head.

She threw the parchment into the fireplace, where it gradually twisted under the firelight and emitted a pungent stench.

Pasha: Mars ascends the palace, Venus moves westward, Mercury sets again and again, and the disasters contained in the apocalypse will come true.

Pasha: War brings bloodshed, floods bring plague, and the earth will no longer protect the crops. After the famine, pale death will come in person to cut off the kingdom's future.

MC: ...!

MC: I'll write down the record and inform the king and the crown prince.

Pasha: No need. The path forward has been decided, and everything has its own reasons.

Pasha: A death can only be saved by another future.

I was stunned, unable to comprehend her intentions for a moment.

Pasha: You're an astrologer. You should see the thread of destiny yourself and guide it in the right direction.

After Pasha said that, she walked out of the gloom through the narrow door, leaving me alone to look at the crackling flames in the fireplace.

The starry sky outside the window was deep, shining with an obscure and mysterious light.

-

It wasn't until late at night that I finished handling the day's affairs and left the tower. There were no people along the way, only the shadows of trees swaying uneasily.

The face of the teacher in charge constantly appeared in my mind. What kind of future would it take to prevent such a terrible disaster?

Just as I was contemplating that question, a figure walking in the distance stopped me in my tracks.

His blonde hair, symbolic of the royal bloodline, shone under the moon, eclipsing everything else.

In the past, I was often enveloped in such brilliance, but ever since one winter day four years ago, he has drifted farther and farther away from me.

In the end, just a glance had turned into a luxury.

I didn't resent anything. After all, youthful ignorance was like an unripe fruit. Probably, as time went by, the former taste would be lost. It's just that I was stuck in it.

Thinking about dispelling my emotions, I saluted Kiro who was coming towards me.

MC: Good evening, Your Highness.

MC: All preparations for the coronation ceremony have been completed, please rest assured.

Kiro: Thank you for your hard work.

He nodded slightly, but did not stop, finally passing me by. Even though I tried hard not to look back, I still couldn't help but glance at him from the corner of my eye after a few seconds.

That back figure was already far away from me, almost melting into the night.

Just staying silently behind him seemed to be a good choice.

Although we could not fulfill that promise, I would guard the promise of this country as an astrologer.

I had confidence that I'd do it well.

MC: Good night, Your Highness.

I continued walking forward resolutely, not noticing the figure quietly looking back behind me, and the voice that was almost lost in the darkness.

Kiro: ...Good night.

-

Time passed day by day, and the preparations for the coronation ceremony finally came to an end.

MC: Finally some good sleep...

As soon as I tiredly got into bed, I suddenly remembered something and sat up at once.

MC: Oops, today's astrological records haven't been sent for storage yet!

This was one of the things that astrologers had to do every day. Even though it was late at night, I picked up the documents and hurried to the archives belonging to the astrologers.

-

I put the astrology chart into the file rack under the moonlight and was about to leave with a yawn when I heard the sound of a cane and words being exchanged in the corridor.

??: Pasha, I have been waiting for this day for twenty years. Lately, even those young girls can't put me to sleep.

Pasha: Your Majesty, there is no need to worry. Once the prince is crowned, the disaster predicted twenty years ago will come to an end, and the Kingdom of Kairos will definitely be peaceful in the future.

MC: ?!

While talking, the king and the teacher walked towards the study room next door, and I subconsciously followed them with slower steps.

Pasha: He will shoulder the glory of being king of a country and be buried under the night-blooming cereus, preventing disasters for the country and bringing happiness to his people.

King: Hmph, you were the one who determined the date of his birth down to the minute, forcing the queen to delay giving birth for two days and nights.

King: Putting aside the fact that the queen died as a result, can you really guarantee that this will help me avoid my fate?

The heavy sound of the astrologer's staff hitting the ground silenced the king's questioning, and the teacher's undeniable voice sounded clearly.

Pasha: I see all possibilities and judge all futures. Everything is woven and recorded by the trajectory of the stars. There is no doubt about it.

Pasha: The night is late, and the path to the tower is steep. Please retire to your bedchamber early, Your Majesty.

[PART 2]

The complex and explosive information continued to expand in my head, so that by the time I had returned to my senses, I had already returned to my room and unfolded the astrological chart of Kiro's birth date with trembling hands.

From ancient times to the present, astrologers have never been allowed to predict the fate of the royal family without permission - but they didn't care that much anymore.

MC: The house position of his Saturn... the Moon will collide with the 8th house after its shift...

MC: He'll go on an expedition in a month... everything is fine...

Suddenly, my hand tracing the star path stopped.

The trajectories of these planets overlapped perfectly, but there was no path that continued forward.

--He would die on the battlefield in the near future.

MC: No... impossible.

History clearly records that on the day Kiro was born, Pasha announced to the people that he would be long-lived and powerful, and would bring blessings to the country. The king also announced that he would be the only crown prince of the country.

I stared blankly at the "truth" in my hand and remembered the meaningful words of the teacher from before.

Did she mean sacrificing Kiro's life to change the country's future?

At that moment, a ray of morning light slipped into the afterglow - time moved forward another day.

I couldn't afford to waste time, so I grabbed my coat and rushed out.

-

When I arrived in front of Kiro's palace, the guard outside the door told me that he had gone out to the farmland in the western suburbs.

-

I quickly got on a carriage and rushed to the nearby area. I saw a group of people standing in the wheat field talking. Among them was a dazzling golden figure wearing a velvet white cloak. He stood upright and tall, showing no anger or authority.

Kiro: Jace, how was the harvest this year?

Jace: Even better than last year, Your Highness!

A middle-aged man wearing clean linen was smiling, touching the ears of wheat.

Jace: In the past few years, the church has exempted several taxes and provided us with good seeds and agricultural tools. How could the harvest be poor?

Kiro: What about the rules about segregating livestock and homes?

Jace: They're all being carried out. Strangely enough, after separating the two sides, its no longer easy for people to fall sick.

Kiro: That's good. Younger children must be sent to learn to read and write first according to the newly promulgated law.

Jace nodded and saluted Kiro solemnly.

Jace: The coronation ceremony of His Highness will be happening soon. We are not so lucky to be standing in queue, but we will definitely watch you from a distance and pray for you!

The warm light of the morning shone through the clouds and mist onto the earth, making those eyes a little softer.

Kiro exchanged a few words with the others, until the sound of farewell sounded, and I quickly ran to them from behind the haystack to salute.

Connor: Isn't this MC? Earl Heaney's daughter? I heard that you seemed to be studying astrology at the tower these past few years. It's been so long since I've seen you.

Duke Connor on the side stroked his white beard and smiled cheerfully.

MC: It's been a long time, Duke Connor. Is everything okay with you and your family?

Connor: The territory has recently had a good harvest and there hasn't been any signs of war, which is certainly good.

Connor: But this isn't a place for ladies to hang out. Could it be that you've come to see your 'brother' Kiro?

MC: .......

Connor: Haha, it seems I was right. I remember when you were a child, whenever you entered the royal city, you'd stick to your 'brother' Kiro and not leave.

Connor: But Kiro also looked forward to your arrival every day at that time, and even safeguarded the delicious food in the kitchen, saying that he would leave it all for you.

Kiro: Duke, this isn't the pace to reminisce. Let's talk about it later.

Kiro stopped Duke Connor's rambling voice and looked at me again.

Kiro: Why are you here?

MC: Your Highness, I have something important to convey to you.

As soon I finished speaking, Duke Connor gave him a "look what I said" look.

Kiro: Diles, send the Duke back first.

-

We walked deeper into the wheat field, and the rustling of wheat ears continued with the wind.

Kiro: Tell me, what's the matter?

For a while, I didn't know how to talk about it, and it felt like the words were stuck in my throat for several moments. All I could do was suppress my emotions and look into his eyes.

The youthfulness and playfulness of the past had long since faded from those calm eyes, but his innate pride remained unchanged.

But if he knew that his life was carefully planned out...

My nose felt sore, and the world instantly blurred. I quickly turned my head away, but I heard his rare concern.

Kiro: Why are you crying?

MC: I...

He didn't urge or comfort me. He just waited with quiet alienation.

The silence and thin air began to press towards me, gradually turning into an emotion called "burden". I knew I had to stop being indecisive, so I quickly wiped away my tears and told him everything I heard last night.

After a brief silence, Kiro just closed his eyes.

Kiro: I see.

Kiro: Just go ahead. I'll take care of it.

I was stunned for a moment, unable to understand his reaction.

MC: Your Highness, you know Pasha has never said anything wrong...

Kiro: You've done what you should do. You can go.

MC: Kiro, don't you understand yet?! No matter what you do now, you will probably die that day!

The emotions that had been bottled up for a long time completely exploded. I grabbed his sleeve regardless of etiquette and raised my voice.

Kiro: So you want me to be like my father and find someone to die for me? Or should I just be a coward and hide in my room and never come out?

His calm voice was like a sharp needle poking me.

MC: ...I'll go find Pasha.

I wanted to leave, but he pulled me back.

Kiro: Pasha?

Kiro: Have you ever thought that now that you've touched this secret, you'll only get into trouble?

Kiro: When the time comes, she could accuse you of secretly predicting the fate of the royal family. That would be enough to kill you.

He also seemed a little out of control, not as calm as usual, his tone urgent with a trace of panic.

MC: But I can't just watch you die!

MC: I said that I would eliminate all worries for you and the country, and it is my duty to make you worry-free for the rest of your life.

Kiro's pupils suddenly contracted, and my wrists hurt from his grip. Those eyes that were trying to restrain themselves wandered back and forth on me for a long time before they cruelly looked at me.

Kiro: Duty?

Kiro: Okay, then I will answer you as the Crown Prince.

Kiro: You don't have to worry about these things, you just have to do your own thing.

MC: .....

Those unsaid words were instantly annihilated in my heart, turning into a puddle of calm. Finally, I gently broke away from his hand and bowed quietly.

MC: [blushing] As you wish, Your Highness.

MC: I have nothing else to report, so I'll leave.

I said, turned around and left, walking faster and faster.

Like Kiro said, I really wanted to do what I could do.

Since I'm an astrologer, let me help you get rid of this fate.

[PART 3]

From the day we parted on bad terms, I stayed in the observatory, reading older texts and comparing the stars all night long.

MC: No, not right...

With the help of a weak oil lamp, my index finger moved carefully between the pages of the book. As the search deepened, my doubts increased sharply.

The stars clearly indicated that the Kingdom of Lys would encounter a major flood in the summer of 796, causing countless casualties. But in fact, it was just a river whose banks burst, and no one was injured.

In 483, when Mars fell into the sixth house, there was supposed to be an unforeseen disaster. However, the wars in history originated from the active aggression of the Kingdom of Hesse, which was clearly not an unexpected disaster.

MC: ...How come.

My attitude towards astrology had always been to listen to whatever the teacher said. But when details that I had never noticed before were laid out, I discovered that many horoscopes did not match the corresponding history.

At that moment, something seemed to have opened a small gap in my long-held belief.

I moved a new pile of old texts from the table and continued to read.

As time went by, the wick burned out, and the increasingly dark room made one unable to help but doze off.

When that cluster of light extinguished and went out, my consciousness fell into darkness as well.

-

[Flashback]

MC: Kiro, look what nice things I brought you~

I walked into the study with a smile, only to find that there was no one there except for the soft window screen swaying in the wind.

MC: Where is he? Obviously Diles said you were here...

Kiro: Here--

A vague sound came from the window. I stepped forward curiously and opened the curtains, and a piece of beautiful scenery came into view.

Clusters of flowers on the lawn swelled with buds, giving back to the spring that had just arrived in the most gorgeous colors.

Kiro: Do you like it? I planted it specially for you.

A golden head popped out from the side and lay face to face with me on the window sill.

Kiro: Because someone's become a night owl since they started staying in the Star Tower. Sleeping during the day and looking at the stars at night.

Kiro: In order for you to not miss out on other good scenery, I could only "bring" it to you personally.

Seeing that he deliberately kept a straight face, my smile grew bigger and bigger, and I quickly kissed him on the cheek.

MC: I like it. I'll come to see it everyday from now on!

MC: But if your teacher finds out, he'll complain to the king again.

Kiro: Then let's sue them. I obviously got nearly full marks in every subject, but I still don't know what Mr. Lawley is dissatisfied with.

MC: Because you're the future king.

MC: But I also don't agree with Mr. Lawley's approach, so didn't I bring you something nice?

I took out a gold necklace from my pocket, and the violin pendant shone in the sun.

Not long ago, after Mr. Lawley complained, the king had smashed his beloved violin.

MC: From now on, no one can break your violin.

Kiro: ......

Kiro looked at the necklace blankly. Something seemed to be surging in his eyes.

In the end, he didn't say anything, and together with the sun, he kissed my forehead.

??: Miss MC, the coronation ceremony is about to begin.

[End of flashback]

A quick knock on the door made me open my eyes in confusion, and a dazzling light shone in front of my eyes like a dream.

I think... the memories of the past might only be hidden in dreams at night.

-

This day was a day of national celeberation.

The royal city was filled with the sweet aroma of wine, and gorgeous flowers bloomed freely on the city walls, as if indicating some kind of hope. As the bell tower struck an ear-splitting sound, I and the other ministers turned around and bowed our heads.

At the end of the hall, the bronze door opened heavily, and a figure wrapped in the golden sun walked in slowly.

He was wearing a snow-white cloak and holding a holy night flower in his hand. It had been embroidered on the ever-waving flags since the founding of the country.

Everything had its limit. Only Kairos would last forever.

Kiro came straight to the archbishop, put his sword on the ground and nodded slightly. The archbishop raised his hands holding the crown and solemnly put it on for the new king.

Archbishop: God bless you and your dynasty. May your light shine on future generations.

Everything was extremely quiet under the dome. In this soul-stirring solemnity, Kiro raised his chin and looked at everyone under the throne.

Kiro: I bring today's glory to the country and to everyone in my land.

Kiro: I will work with you in the long years to come to safeguard the dignity and freedom of the kingdom.

Kiro: I also share peace and hope with you.

Ministers: Long live the king! Long live the king!

Every courtier and soldier in the hall raised their arms and sent their most sincere blessings. But the louder the support, the more mixed my emotions became.

Because after learning the truth, I couldn't celebrate for him at all.

As if tacitly, those blue eyes looked at me from afar among the crowd.

Kiro: .....

MC: .....

In the end, everything fell into silence. I raised my skirt and saluted him, then silently left with everyone behind my back.

After the ceremony, Kiro asked everyone to leave, leaving one person sitting on the throne for a long time. The dim candle flame flickered on the copper candlestick, unable to drive the coldness and darkness away.

In the endless silence, Kiro took off the crown on his head.

The golden brilliance circulated under the moonlight, but it could not shake off the back of that figure in his heart that was deviating from everything.

From knowing the so-called trajectory of fate to subconsciously staying away.

He never believed in fate. But even if there was only a slight possibility...

He didn't want her to be sad and have her suffer alone for the rest of her life as well.

But the set time was approaching. As long as he stepped over the stairs, maybe he could hold her hand without any burden.

Just like in countless nights and dreams.

As if he was restraining something, he closed his eyes forcefully.

I want to bring myself together into this darkness.

[PART 4]

Time flew by after Kiro's coronation.

Within the kingdom, laws were spread throughout the country following the herald's announcement, building a new and stable foundation for the kingdom.

But soon, after a heavy rain swept over the west, there was no more rain in the country. The king of Leith began to claim he inherited the bloodline of the Levina dynasty, and there seemed to be clouds of war emerging.

Fate seemed to be slipping towards its destined trajectory.

Citizen A: Oh my God, is there going to be a war?

Citizen B: Don't worry, His Majesty asked us to build the cellar two years ago.

Citizen C: Fortunately, His Majesty asked us to switch to new cold-resistant crops, otherwise I don't know what we would have done in the future!

Citizen A: That's true. I heard that the floods in the south did not cause much damage.

Citizen B: He is a good king and will definitely keep us safe and sound.

Of course he was a good king.

From food, clothing, housing and transportation to domestic affairs and diplomacy, he has done so many things to make the kingdom prosperous. Could all of this really be reduced to a footnote to his mortal fate?

I turned towards the tower and climbed up to the astrology room on the top floor.

The starry sky was so high and far away, indicating that destiny would never allow mortals to get close.

But I knew better now, that it was not the gods that filled everyone's stomachs and let them live in peace.

It was Kiro.

Pasha: You're here.

Pasha didn't look at me. She held the astrological stick with both hands and looked out the window.

MC: Teacher, I recently discover that many recorded horoscopes do not match their corresponding history.

MC: Does that mean that fate is not determined?

Pasha: It seems that you are looking forward to something and are trying to find a glimmer of hope from it.

MC: ....I just think it's better to grasp the present than predict the future.

Pasha: MC, destiny is always right.

Pasha: A dying baby was miraculously saved. Do you think it was human will or destiny?

MC: Of course it was human will. If no one saved the baby, there was no way a miracle would have happened.

Pasha: No, it was destiny that allowed the man to save the baby.

MC: [angry] ......

Perhaps it was because the gap in my heart was getting wider and wider. I tremblingly clenched my fists and asked loudly.

MC: What you mean is that everything humans do is permitted by destiny? Those likes, those hates, and those desires are not real; they're all arranged by God?

Pasha: That's right. The histories you see that are inconsistent with the stars can only mean one thing.

Pasha: Destiny is never wrong. Only people are wrong.

-

It was all so ridiculous.

After running back to my room, I threw all the astrology books I believed in into the fireplace. Seeing them being swallowed up by the flames made me feel inexplicably happy.

If everything really was arranged by destiny, how could He (God) allow me to do disobedient things?

Suddenly enlightened, I ignored the burning fireplace and ran to find Kiro. I wanted to tell him all of this. I wanted to tell him that the so-called fate had no meaning at all.

They were just shackles that people put on themselves.

-

But I didn't see him. The door of the meeting hall remained closed, and anxious conversations kept coming from inside.

It seemed like a war was about to begin.

Guard: Miss MC, this matter is confidential. It is not convenient for you to stay here, so please leave first.

MC: [visibly disappointed] ...I see.

-

In the next few days, I hid in the corner of my room like a drowned dog, watching the sun and moon change outside the window.

I denied astrology, I was rejected, and I didn't know what else to do.

??: Attention! In the early hours of tonight, the king will lead 10,000 soldiers to fight against the Kingdom of Lys!

A childish voice came from outside the window, accompanied by fast footsteps passing through the street.

Slumped against the wall, I immediately woke up, pushed the door open and rushed out.

Even if he refused to see me, I still wanted to take a look at him from a distance.

The winding city walls were filled with soldiers gathered everywhere, wearing armor and sharpening their swords, their faces devoid of fear. I kept running forward, constantly weaving though the crowded queues.

But the end of the city wall was so far away that every step closer had me being pushed back by the crowd, making it impossible to reach.

MC: Kiro...

MC: Kiro...

Just when I thought I was about to miss everything, a force suddenly pulled me into a dark passage.

In the almost pitch-black darkness, I couldn't see the person behind me. I only felt that every part of me was tightly wrapped in ice-like armor.

He continued to increase his strength, as if he wanted to embed me into his flesh and blood. His turbulent breath tore away all the calm masks of the past. It was so strange, but it made me feel extra sure.

MC: Kiro...

No one responded from behind me. Only this extraordinarily stubborn hug remained, as if it was just a thought he left to himself.

Just like how he retreated alone these years, he never gave in.

But at this moment, I could no longer bear to have him like this.

MC: .....

I began to stubbornly turn around, but no matter how hard I struggled, I was still relentlessly imprisoned in his arms. I opened my eyes, finding it difficult to prevent the heat from rolling down.

MC: Kiro....

MC: Can you let me win just once... just once.

Kiro: .....

The person behind me stopped breathing, and I finally had an opportunity to turn around and hug him tightly.

MC: Kiro, listen to me... I'm not here to say goodbye to you.

MC: You will come back alive.

MC: You will leave those fates behind.

MC: And I will--

Those unspoken words were instantly swallowed up by his breath.

Everything seemed to be in chaos, shaking up my entire world, the only exception being those pair of eyes that were hidden under the helmet which grew clearer and clearer.

Our chaotic and turbulent breathing intertwined with our temperatures, and the smell of rust between our teeth mixed together and melted into our bloodstreams.

The extraordinarily deep temperature seemed to reach from the tips of my fingers to the tip of my heart, and even the depths of my soul trembled.

This was our first kiss.

I tasted the slightly salty and fishy smell, and my entire body seemed to be filled with his breath. I couldn't help but covetously desire to leave my traces on him.

I want you to come back. Come back to me.

Kiro: MC...

Kiro: MC...

He hoarsely cried out my name, sounding like a voice breaking from the deepest part of his soul.

Kiro: I will definitely come back to you.

It was like he was talking to me, and also himself.

Kiro: [trembling voice] Don't forget me.

At that moment, with the so-called fate approaching, I seemed to finally see him clearly, all his fears and struggles.

Kiro: Don't ever forget me...

He made no promises about the future and left no promises. He has always pushed me away, yet he said such words at this moment.

MC: You... bad, willful, self-righteous, stubborn...

His face was extremely blurry, and there was a bitter smile between his lips and teeth.

Kiro: I am a bad, willful, self-righteous and stubborn person.

Kiro: So remember me. Remember me forever.

Kiro: Until you close your eyes for the last time, think of me... all of me.

It wasn't until there was a horn blast that I suddenly opened my eyes and stared at him with great reluctance.

MC: .....

I tried to suppress my trembling fingertips and touched his armor for final confirmation.

MC: Was this armor made by the best smiths? Is it the hardest material in the world?

Kiro: .....

After his eyes carefully traced my face, he spoke hoarsely.

Kiro: Mm, it's the best. And my sword is also the sharpest.

Kiro: I can easily slit the enemy's throat.

I hugged him hard for the last time and showed him a confident smile.

MC: Then go ahead. I will await your triumphant return in the Epiphyllum field.

-

Reflections from enemy armor obscured the horizon.

Kiro calmly stared ahead, waiting for his army to get into formation.

Flags were flying beside him, and the epiphyllum embroidered with gold thread seemed to spread its petals with the cold wind, blooming proudly on the battlefield.

The last row of soldiers stood still, and both side stood still. The only sound in the vast plain, was the howling of the wind. The war horse also smelled the undercurrent of tension in the silent air, and moved restlessly in its spot.

Kiro patted his mount's neck and rode his horse to the front of the army line.

Kiro: People of the Kingdom of Kairos, my brothers.

He looked at the soldiers who followed him on the expedition, one by one.

They had their own coat of arms on their chests, their eyes were solemn and determined, their weapons were sharp and the their armor was well-equipped.

Kiro: We crossed mountains and rivers and travelled all the way here...

Kiro: Like you, I miss my hometown and fear the enemy's edge.

Kiro raised a fearless smile and raised his voice higher.

Kiro: But for our kingdom, our homeland, and for the loved ones waiting for us.

He turned towards the enemy formation, drew his sword and pointed it straight into the sky.

Kiro: We will triumph!

The iron hooves roared like thunder, and the soldiers' shouts shook the earth, charging forward with their king who they devoted all their loyalty to.

-

Like before, I knelt on the field of night-flowers and prayed for my king.

These days had been as long as one year after another, and my feelings had gradually changed from worry at the beginning to determination.

Only the more determined you are, the more you are the nemesis of fate.

MC: Kiro, you must come back safely.

Suddenly, a rustling sound behind me drowned out the murmurs, and a warm liquid with a pungent smell dripped onto the side of my face.

I immediately opened my eyes and looked to my side, facing a clear blue.

Kiro's crown hung crookedly, and his clothes were stained with large patches of dark brown. The finely woven clothes were damaged, and that beautiful face was stained with dried blood.

The blood on his cloak dripped down drop by drop, dyeing the white petals of the epiphyllum, leaving a dazzling red. I hugged him tightly as he knelt down next to me, letting tears blur my vision.

Even so haggard, he still came back.

Kiro: I came back safely, why are you crying again?

His embrace was warm and strong, and his heartbeat kept coming from that embracing chest.

MC: I know, I'm just happy...

MC: You transcended destiny and came back...

Kiro: I can finally stay with you forever.

Kiro: I can finally make up for the wrong things I did to you in an honest way.

He distanced himself slightly away from me and held my face in his hands.

Kiro: MC, let me ask you, are you still willing to be my queen?

MC: ....!

Seeing that I didn't respond immediately, his brows furrowed as if unsure, and that patch of blue was laced with apology.

Kiro: Actually, long before you told me the truth, I secretly learned some astrology. So I knew...

MC: Of course, I do.

I didn't let him continue and hugged him tightly.

Things in the past were no longer important. The prolonged pain and sorrow had finally turned into an old wine after the dust had settled.

MC: But let's agree first that you'll compensate me twice as much later.

Kiro: Of course, I must obey the Queen's advice.

He smiled and rolled his eyes, the ring between his fingers glimmering in the moonlight.

Glimmering?

I was stunned.

Something extremely fast shot through the sky with a cold light.

The air was stagnant for a moment, but soon I felt a tickling warmth on my legs, turning cold with the breeze and sliding down my skin.

There was clearly a smile on Kiro's lips, and the dazzling blood pouring out made his face even paler.

There was another sharp sound.

Kiro's center of gravity suddenly became unstable and he fell forward onto me.

And on his back were two feather arrows, still trembling slightly.

Kiro: [EXTREMELY pained voice] MC... I...

The sound of arrows came again and penetrated into his chest, stopping the words that had not yet been spoken.

The person who nocked the arrow in the distance was the archery teacher who he had grown up with.

MC: Why...

Another arrow came again at a speed that my eyes couldn't catch and pierced straight through his abdomen.

Kiro seemed to want to say something, but the blood rising in his throat only made him make a vague sound.

Not far away, a group of guards who had stayed in the city came forward, drawing their swords and pointing them at the king that brought them victory.

MC: Why?! He obviously won!!

MC: How dare you betray him?!

I hugged Kiro, whose body was bleeding all over and screamed hysterically.

Soldier: Master Pasha ordered that only through the king's sacrifice could the kingdom last for a long time.

The hand of his personal guard holding the sword trembled, but he spat out words like poisonous snakes at me, one by one.

Soldier: Master Pasha is the chief astrologer and is never wrong. This is all... a fate that has been determined for a long time...

MC: Fate?

I was so furious that I laughed, staring at the soldiers who were able to triumph because of Kiro, who could have relatives and live in peace because of Kiro.

MC: Between the uncertain stars in the sky, and the people you spend every day with, which one determines your fate?!

Kiro: MC....

In my arms, Kiro suddenly touched my shoulder and motioned for me to help him sit up.

MC: Don't move... I-I won't let anything happen to you.

I shook my head, my vision becoming increasingly blurry on his increasingly dyed robe.

I didn't know what to do. I could only deceive him like I deceived myself.

Kiro: MC.

He called me softly again, and wiped away my tears with great effort.

Kiro: Of course I'll be fine, I just want to say something to them.

Kiro: After all, today is a day worth celebrating, and as king, I want to give them some rewards.

MC: .....

Under his serious gaze, I could only help him straighten up in silence.

Kiro: Diles... you've done a great job over the years.

He looked at the leading soldier with a smile. Even though his face was pale and sweaty, the pride in his eyes did not fade.

Kiro: You'll continue to do just as well in the future, because your horoscope tells me...

Kiro: You'll enjoy endless wealth, you will have endless heirs, and finally, you will die without any pain at the age of seventy-nine.

As if he didn't expect Kiro to say this, Diles and the others looked at each other in shock.

Diles: Your Majesty... what does that mean?

Kiro ignored him and turned his gaze to another soldier.

Kiro: Naya, you are different.

Kiro: Astrology says that you have less than three years left and will die in an accident on the day before the autumn harvest.

Naya: ....!

Kiro: And Hiken... no matter how hard you try, you are destined to lose the one you love.

Kiro: Morty, you will become the future captain of the guard, and then all the soldiers in the royal city will be under your control.

Kiro smiled gently, but his eyes were colder than ever. He seemed to be a God descending to the human world, passing judgement on everyone present with every breath.

It also planted a seed called "determined" in their hearts.

From now on, let these people anticipate, panic, and doubt their so-called predetermined fate...

Live your life.

Kiro: Don't you believe in fate?

Kiro: Let's see then, if everything goes as fate has ordained.

As if they didn't want him to continue talking, a rain of arrows came falling from the sky. I subconsciously turned to block him, and there were several muffled sounds hitting the flesh and blood in my waist and abdomen.

But I couldn't feel any pain; only the burning hatred that was about to tear me apart.

I hugged Kiro tightly and screamed, giving everyone a vicious glare.

MC: Very good... Just continue believing then, but I won't.

MC: Because fate means nothing to me. All I know is that without Kiro, I won't be able to live happily.

As I said that, I took out the flint and dagger from my waist and sneered disdainfully.

MC: If you don't want to die, then get out of here.

MC: Otherwise, you won't be able to enjoy your last pitiful fate.

I hit them together hard, igniting a flame among the epiphyllums.

In an instant, the flames quickly engulfed everything around us, and at the same time, covered up those disgusting figures. I looked at Kiro's surprised face and tried my best to show my brightest smile.

MC: I hid it from you, Kiro... Actually, I was prepared for the worst as early as the beginning. Because Pasha wanted to bury you under the night-blooming cereus to prevent disasters for the country.

MC: But I would never allow you to be used like that.

MC: So I was thinking at the time, that if this day really came, I would burn all the epiphyllums in this area.

Kiro: Then my queen really made a good decision. Why did I never think of that?

Listening to his weak teasing, I continued to smile, laid him flat on the ground filled with night-flowers, and hugged him tightly.

MC: Kiro, you should have told me that you learned astrology so that we could have shared some of my work.

Kiro: It was actually a surprise that I wanted to give you a long time ago.

Kiro: It's a pity that that I never had time to give it to you...

Unknowingly, we seemed to be back to when we were young again. Laying together carefree on the epiphyllum field, whispering ordinary things.

MC: It doesn't matter. I know now, and it's too late. Look, the stars are so beautiful today.

MC: By the way, what's the name of your brightest one?

Kiro: It's called MC.

I couldn't help laughing, and also crying.

Because there was nothing directly above, only endless flames and smoke.

MC: I'm serious.

Kiro: It's called MC.

Kiro: Because no star can compare to you.

MC: Then let's just consider your answer correct~

I wanted to say something more, but I felt my energy continuously draining, almost sapping me dry.

Time seemed to be running out.

MC: Kiro...

I tried my best to lean on his chest, closed my eyes, and tried my best to listen to his heartbeat.

MC: Could you talk to me a little longer? I still have a lot of things I haven't said to you...

Kiro: Then let's plan the wedding, shall we?

Kiro: After all, you've already agreed to my proposal, and everything has only just begun.

MC: I want a lot of sunflowers, because I've read in a book before that there was a flower in the north that was as bright as the sun.

MC: And it likes to bloom towards the sun... But it doesn't matter if you don't have them. Having you is enough for me.

Kiro: How can that be? And leave alone the sunflower?

Kiro: Whatever you want, I can bring it to you.

MC: That...

My consciousness gradually dulled, but his heart was still beating clearly in my ears.

This gave me peace of mind.

I felt so at ease that I wanted to regard this moment as eternity.

-

The girl showed no response and no breathing. Only her body still retained some warmth from the fire that was on the verge of spreading. But as if he didn't want to let this warmth slip away from his arms, Kiro used his last strength to hug the girl and kissed her forehead again and again.

Kiro: [in an extremely tired, but extremely affectionate voice] I know that you were afraid that I'd be lonely; that I'd be buried here and face the endless darkness alone.

Kiro: But I still hoped that you could look at the sun every day and smell the fragrance of every flower for me...

Kiro: But now, this isn't so bad.

Kiro: It's just that it seems that what I owe you will now never be repaid.

Kiro paused as he spoke. After a moment, he kissed her forehead preciously and tenderly for the last time and smiled gently.

Kiro: I don't expect anything, as long as I can see you in our next life.

Kiro: If I turn into an animal, I would stay at your feet day and night.

Kiro: If I were a flower, I would bloom only for you.

Kiro: But if I unfortunately turn into a rock, I'd cross mountains and ridges to come to you.

Kiro: Of course, it would be best if I become a human being. So that I can hug you, kiss you, and love you forever and ever.

Kiro's voice became weaker and weaker, and finally turned into a sigh that disappeared in the wind.

Kiro: I promise you.

Kiro closed his eyes quietly, but saw a bright light like daylight surrounding him.

What it was, he didn't know.

But the sun would not rise again tomorrow.

Translation Masterlist: here

CheesyTalks: Okay, so... I caved. I couldn't help myself. This date was too sad and beautiful for me not to do a quick translation (I just wished I could add more screenshots, but tumblr won't let me insert more than 30 ss smh). This may not have been a happy date, but it was definitely a satisfying one.

That being said, I do want to make a quick comment on the writing of this date: from the subtle but poignant foreshadowing at the beginning (the expert use of atmosphere and cold and dark imagery to set the tone for the date), to the final death scene at the end, all of it was very well handled. Not to mention the world building and symbolism. PG has always done a good job at handling angst and this one was no exception. (ALSO, THE SUBTLE PARELLELS TO THE MAIN STORY HAD ME DYING INSIDE)

[truthdogg]

Our ongoing mass shootings are the POINT of no gun regulation, not some accidental side effect. Otherwise, who are the “tyrants” the far-right is stockpiling their guns to kill?

Here’s the most important line of the article, because this, ultimately, is the basis of today’s right-wing conservative belief in the purpose of the 2nd Amendment:

“The Second Amendment is not about hunting. I love hunting. The Second Amendment is not even about personal defense. That is important. The Second Amendment is there, God forbid, so that you can defend yourself against a tyrannical government.”

They’ve taken one comment about “watering the tree of liberty,” and applied it to all of the founders, even to those who were very clear, in writing, about the purpose of the 2nd Amendment and the need for citizen militias. It’s insane, and it makes zero sense that a government created by an elite minority of wealthy men would have specifically wanted the powerless non-voters to be able to kill them all, but that’s apparently what these guys truly believe.

But for our purposes, who even are these “tyrants?” At first, they seem to be referencing a Stalin or Hitler-type leader, especially since so many love to tell us that Hitler disarmed the Jews. But that’s not the sort of leader ever mentioned in the real world of policy and elections. So do we have a parliamentary system that may appoint a madman like Hitler? No. Did we recently elect a lunatic who tried to stay in power after being voted out? Yes, we absolutely did, but they clearly don’t mean a leader like him since they mostly all supported the self-coup. So who is it that they’re so afraid of?

Conservatives like Kirk often refer to the founders’ real fears of a “tyranny of the majority,” meaning the landless laborers, slaves, and minorities who had no right to vote. They see themselves as the rightful inheritors of the founders’ elitist political power, arrayed against those who outnumber them. For their part, the founders were right to fear a disenchanted majority; after all, they had just invented a republic that put themselves at the top of a power-sharing arrangement to replace a king, and they knew that despite their revolution they had avoided a French-style massacre of elites. Further, they had also just agreed to perpetuate a dystopian society for a large portion of the population that would take another two centuries to slowly and painfully unravel.

Embracing that language of the founders does help to demonstrate just how wrong the right-wing misinterpretation of the 2nd Amendment truly is. It also shows us how much they want to return to a tightly limited number of voters, based once again on wealth and race. But today’s conservatives only share the founders’ traits of being overwhelmingly white and wealthy, with zero sense of their noblesse oblige or even a rudimentary responsibility to the future.

But back to tyrants. The way we most commonly hear the word “tyranny” used today, by far, is when a right wing candidate simply loses an election. Rather than moderating their positions or trying to improve the outcomes of their policies, the right simply doubles down, claims “tyranny of the majority,” and insists on power. Extreme conservatism, they believe, must be represented in government, even if those being governed don’t want it. So who, again, are the “tyrants” in this right-ring fever dream? Who are all these weapons being stockpiled to kill?

That would of course be me, you, and anyone else who disagrees with, doesn’t look like, or—perhaps most of all—votes differently from them.

This isn’t some future scenario, it’s happening now. From a Buffalo grocery store to a Colorado Springs nightclub. From synagogues in Pittsburgh and Poway to a church in Charleston. Mass murders are not some accidental side effect of this ludicrous interpretation, they are its purpose. Charlie Kirk says “it’s worth it” because the terror is the intent. It’s more than worth it, it’s part of the program.

Unless and until we come to terms with just what, exactly, these far-right activists are seeking and supporting, we’ll continue seeing our friends, families, and neighbors terrorized and killed. Every mass shooting we have, every single one, is a product of that desire on the far right to murder so-called tyrants, and far too often a literal manifestation of this philosophy in action.

Because increasingly to them, losing power or simply being outvoted is tyranny, and the tyrants—be they you, me, minority groups or progressives of any sort—must be killed.

[nalyra-dreaming]

@raven--stag replied to your post “Me: sees someone refer to how badly Lestat treated...”:

There are TRAIN SCHEDULES?? Can you elaborate please (if you have time and don't mind doing it ofc) because honestly, I've never considered the possibility that he wasn't the one who brought her back, it always just kind of made sense to me

​Alright. I first did the research for that for chapter 42 of "Laden as the sea", which of course dealt with that scene. (I'm adapting my explanations from there)

Now, in short:

Lestat cannot have brought Claudia back as told.

(which does not mean that a similar scene did not happen... just not as told.)

Because:

In-universe, these characters are rooted to it. As is what we're told, and what is used to set the scenes.

The train Claudia wanted to take was likely the Crescent, which ran daily from 1941 on. (This“one year discrepancy” in the tale is a constant thing btw here a post of the now deactivated a-savagegarden on this.) The Crescent leaves NOLA at 9am these days, BUT then…. It left at 11pm :)

(source)

Now…. Louis tells us of Lestat doing the “Birmingham, Alabama” spiel, and the train Claudia being on the “New York Limited”. The Crescent does NOT stop in Birmingham, however the “Piedmont Limited” does. 5,5h into the journey (if I read these correctly).

The cities quoted (Birmingham. Atlanta. Greensboro. Washington, D.C.) fit the timetable there, too. However… the Piedmont left at 5pm. And sunset was around 7:30pm.

Which is why I think Louis maybe thought Claudia was on the Limited, when in reality she had to go and take the Crescent simply for time-reasons. (And since he had no intention to go with her this detail was never important to him.)

Now. The radio broadcast we hear when Louis comes back was given September 3rd, 1939, after 5:30 am.

(A word to the next scene in the show here: I noticed that the radio broadcast Louis listens to… is the same as was on when he came back from “teasing the sun”, as mentioned above, after Claudia was brought back by Lestat, namely this part of it: “every word that comes through the air, every ship that sails the sea, every battle that is fought does affect the American future.” Given that this is clearly a different evening though - it’s another piece of the puzzle which does … not fit, but is likely a twisted memory, and another one of those “details” which actually are not really important… but still proof of this not being (able to be) the (whole) truth. (Another thing that indicates the discrepancy imho is the fact that there’s two radios in their parlor… one next to Louis, one next to Lestat.))

But back to that evening, and Louis' return.

Let’s make that 6am, since he said he cut it close.

IF Claudia actually told Louis afterwards that Lestat caught her and brought her back from Alabama, then on the Crescent it might have been Montgomery. Which the Crescent reached at 7:20am… after sunrise. So that makes that rather unlikely.

The Crescent leaving at 11pm and Louis coming home at 6am gives whatever happened in-between a 7h time frame. If the trains need 5,5h to Birmingham… not enough time.

Totally apart from the timetables though there is also logistics to consider.

When Louis comes home Claudia sits there, with her luggage (and her tuba). I know I wrote in the other fic that Lestat flew back with her, but I actually doubt it.

Claudia had had to go back from the park to get her luggage and bring it to the train (station). IF she actually made it onto the train with all of that and nobody noticing, then I think Lestat caught her while still at the station.

Because the return train schedule (of the Crescent and Express) is in the afternoon and the Piedmont Limited would have arrived at NOLA only after sunrise. (Of course there would be other trains they could take, but those would be even slower…?!)

So I think Claudia never left NOLA. Which does NOT mean that the train scene in and by itself did not happen, as said before (even the controller), but… I think Louis mixed what Claudia told him afterwards (or what she let him see in her mind, which might not have been all that was to it, given her later diary entries) with what he thought/feared had happened. With the trains he expected her to be on, and which went by certain cities. There is no diary to underline the scene, Louis tells Daniel of this event after it is noted in the show that the previous interview had stopped before this point, so Daniel has no reference anymore. It is Louis’ interpretation of what Claudia told/showed him, recounted for a certain... effect.

So I do think a scene similar to what we saw happened. But exactly like that? Not likely, imho, not the least because of the many, many parallels to events from Lestat’s past here (and which neither Claudia nor Louis would know at this point).

And of course Claudia would be plotting her own game by then, which, in later book canon at least, included manipulating Louis.

And, last but not least, supposedly Claudia knew Antoinette was there with Louis at the park when she left for the train, as is revealed in episode 7. I always find that hugely interesting in retrospect, considering her comment to him and the mentioned later book twist.

[deeper-x-deeper]

[NEW PINNED 4/14/2024]

WARNING!

18+ HERE THERE BE HORNY 18+

MINORS DNI

hi I'm a 26 year old transmasc boything with an emotional support god complex. (it's mostly a bit but I may like it a little too much) he/him, it/its, or ze/zem/zis (treated as grammatically singular) pronouns. they/them is whatever but not preferred. top surgery and on T. if you absolutely must refer to me by some kind of name/title, Administrator or Admin will do, since that's what I use in recordings and drone style sessions. I use Handler for petplay style things but don't usually use it verbally. otherwise you can just mention "god" in your moans while you jack off to my blog and I'll accept that as an offering of worship. :3

Aromantic and Asexual Service Switch. I enjoy sex bc I like making others feel good. I have a preference for dominance, and despite being proudly easy to hypnotize, I do not submit for just any generic dom, and my submission must be earned. however, I have no preference between top or bottom.

I will mostly be talking about hypnosis on this blog. Honestly, most of my non-hypnosis posts can be interpreted with hypnotic undertones, and my god complex posts should always be interpreted to have hypnosis involved.

I also make my own recordings! The free ones will be linked here, but if you want to keep up with the stuff that I can't post here...

https://www.patreon.com/user?u=118883163

I also have a YouTube page for the recordings available for free at the above link.

https://youtube.com/@hypnosis-rar

💚 asks, anons, dms open, please be respectful or I will block 💚

(I may play up the god complex but please speak to me like a person first)

main kinks talked about on here:

Hypnosis (obviously)

Puppy play

CNC and occasionally free use

monsterfucking including oviposition

idk what it's called when I get off on pretending to be a cult leader but that's here

I've probably forgotten a lot of them but I try to remember to tag oviposition for posts and rbs but I only seem to remember to tag hypnosis on my original posts.

important tags: (updated)

#my art [for original artworks I either have rbed from my main or are so horny they're only available here]

#my vibrations [for original hypnotic voice recordings]

#text induction [for text based inductions]

#covert induction [usually paired with the text induction tag]

#personal thoughts [for original text posts]

#trance ideas [for potential future scripts]

#records for my research [for posts about my irl and vc hypnosis sessions]

#god complex? it's simple really [for posts containing my cult leader fantasies]

#spiral

#gif (and #flashing but rarely and it's never intense)

[these are separate as not every gif is a spiral, and not every spiral is a gif]

HARD LIMITS

detrans/forcefem

ddlg

feet

💚Final Remarks💚

if you receive a follow from stinkypossum, that's my main art blog.

if you receive an anonymous ask signed

- d x d

that's me

this pinned will be directly edited as needed and I will update the date at the top to reflect changes

let's have fun and be weird!

[bittersweetcanary]

Arcana Twilight BUT it's queer as FUCK

Coming in hot to throw some cannons at your head- Here are some of my basic head cannons of the cast! I mighhhhht use these when writing in the future when making stories for my persona in an artw au.

[Disability | Neurodivergence | Mentions of sexual relationships(no details but sort of NSFW) | Disorders | Cute shit | I love them]

Viewer discretion is advised beyond this point O-O

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Alpheratz HCs

The First Sorcerer of Andromeda

Gender/Pronouns: No gender, any pronouns. Alpheratz doesn’t care what pronouns you use.

Sexuality: Doesn’t care to explain, too much energy. Will remain uneducated.

Health-Related Content: Mana Fluctuation.

Magic Specialty: Excellent Overall.

Love Language: Likes to Give: Quality Time / Gift Giving. Likes to Receive: Quality Time / Physical Touch.

Alfie’s Flower: The Pink Camellia, it symbolizes longing.

Other

Alfie's spell book(catalyst) feeds off the wielder's mana to remain bonded thus leading though this isn't the cause of the fluctuations it does worsen them if the book takes from him when his mana is low. Alpheratz is almost always fatigued, due to the reasons above he sometimes refers to his condition as Chronic Fatigue.

Nap time with the Summoner is Alpheratz's favorite way to spend quality time. With cuddles of course!!

As Sirrah in Alpheratz’s past life Alfie once took down a flying whale with Polaris, they were close but how close? At the beginning Alpheratz doesn’t recognize the Summoner as Polaris nor does Alfie trust them, warms up to them slowly, but as Alfie gains memories of Sirrah, Alfie is noticeably more fond of the Summoner.  

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Arcturus HCs

The First Sorcerer of Bootes

Gender/Pronouns: Unlabeled he/she

Sexuality: Asexual/Panromantic is a term that describes people who can experience romantic, or emotional (but not sexual) attraction to any person, regardless of that person’s gender, sex, or sexuality.

Health-Related Content: ADHD.

Magic Specialty: Inducing Magixs.

Love Language: Gives: Words of Affirmation / Quality Time. Likes to Receive: Physical Touch / Words of Affirmation / Quality Time.

Arcky’s Flower: The Yellow Rose is a symbol of sympathy and empathy. When your friends get sad or sick, you can entertain and brighten your friends days. 

Other

Those with ADHD have difficulty completing tasks due to a lack of motivation because their brains have an extremely low quantity of the chemicals that reward you with happy vibes if you complete it so they tend to hyper-fixate on whatever gives them that bit of reward.

Arcturus, as typical of people with ADHD though not all, tends to get that reward when she completes tasks for others or helps them, but she tends to hyper-fixate on this and forget to take care of his own needs, like eating, drinking, and using the toilet. Please remind her Summoner!!

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Pollux HCs

The Second Sorcerer of Gemini

ESFP-T

Gender/Pronouns: Genderfluid [he/they/she] usually goes by he/him

Sexuality: Pansexual, fluid. A term that describes people who can experience sexual, romantic, or emotional attraction to any person, regardless of that person’s gender, sex, or sexuality though he feels this change from time to time and doesn’t prefer to stick to any singular sexuality, not even Pan.

Health-Related Content: Bipolar disorder is a mental health condition that causes extreme mood swings that include emotional highs (mania or hypomania) and lows (depression).

Magic Specialty: Destruction Magic.

Love Language: Gives: Physical Touch. Likes to Receive: Gift Giving / Words of Affirmation / Physical Touch.

Polly’s Flower: The White Rose, this flower represents pure and innocent love.

Other

Often needs time alone to just decompress, Alpheratz typically keeps an eye on them just in case they ever need help.

Everyone has a case of cuteness aggression towards him whenever he is near, Alpheratz is always the first to act on it and coo at him!

Sirius was dating him for a time, or so Pollux thought but it was never made official. It was more like sexual benefits. Pollux would like to think they’d at least been Friends with Benefits. He behaves hostilely towards the Summoner at first because Sirius began avoiding him, giving him the cold shoulder in favor of the Summoner… Pollux warms up to the Summoner after they are there to comfort him despite his hostility.

Sirius previously referred to Pollux as Bunny in a sexual way. Arcturus once looked over Pollux’s shoulder at his phone screen and asked what that meant. Pollux was mortified and refused to answer.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Sirius HCs

First Sorcerer of Canis Major

ENTP-A

Gender/Pronouns: Mirror Pronouns. Your pronouns are his, and he is running away with them. His legs are too long, you will never catch him!! (I tend to use he/him for Sirius when not mirroring them to other characters though any other usage of pronouns or just his name would work)

Sexuality: Omnisexual. Similar to pansexual, it is used to describe people whose sexuality isn’t limited to those of a particular gender, sex, or sexual orientation

Health-Related Content: If he has any, well, you don't know. Sirius isn't one to let others know such personal information... Though Polaris might know.

Magic Specialty: Transformation Magic.

Eyes:

Red: Love, desire

Orange: ? Haven’t seen them but I assume they’d be joy & love

Yellow: Delight, joy

Green: Jealousy, anger?, annoyed

Blue: Sadness, dissapointment

Icy Blue: Shock, surprise, worry

Purple: Fear, determination, anger?

Squinted, blank Purple: Desperation

Red/Purple: Love and Determination

Love Language: Gives: Gift Giving / Physical Touch. Likes to Receive: Physical Touch / Words of Affirmation.

Siri’s Flower: The Purple Rose represents individuality and artistic flair but the closer to black they are their meaning could double with Black Roses which symbolize, grief, anger, hatred, unrequited love, mystery, subversion, resistance, and dark side of desire and passion.

(Definition may vary from other sources because I tailored it to Sirius.)

Other

Sirius just likes to occasionally visit the Summoner while they are studying in the library. If the Summoner is short he’ll pick them up, sit down, and place them on his lap like it’s nothing. The Summoner has become used to this, they recognize his presence before he even approaches so they are already mentally prepared- but when Sirius begins whispering in their ear he becomes quite the distraction.

Loves playing with your hair, especially if it’s long enough to style!!

Has no idea how to react when you actually flirt back or make a move, possibly tenses up or asks if what you did was a cruel joke… (poor baby has self-esteem issues)

Does shit to make you distrust him because he doesn’t trust himself

Very torn up about Polaris not quite being there as they once were for him. 

Sirius likes to roleplay as your student sometimes, maybe he was Polaris’s student once and he wants that time back.

Sirius cannot let go of the idea of Polaris, he will often project onto the Summoner when roleplaying with them and tell them vague stories with minor changes about himself and Polaris in hopes of triggering memories.

Sirius adores you, the Summoner, Polaris, seeing you as his only safe space but still he has trouble opening up because he knows you aren’t his Polaris but so very much wishes you to be… To an unhealthy degree, wishing that in the first place is unhealthy and projecting.

Floor 8-17 The Summoner asks Sirius if he knew Polaris personally, he asks them what they think. Sirius did and does.

Pollux was his rebound. Sirius never thought much of their “relationship”, he never intended to make it one.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Spica HCs

The First Sorcerer of Virgo

Gender/Pronouns: Cisgender Man [he/him]

Sexuality: Bisexual, a sexual orientation that describes people who experience sexual, romantic, or emotional attraction to people of more than one gender. Old man energy. Prefers binary, cisgender, individuals with few exceptions. Uses it like one would use Pansexual. When Spica quotes himself "When I was younger Bisexual was the “pansexual”." the others refer to it as Spicaism. Spica lectures them over their supposed misuse of grammar.

Health Related Content: Severe OCD(Obsessive Compulsive Disorder)

Magic Specialty: The Half of the Traditional Sorcerer. (I assume that refers to magic that is considered traditional to practice, possibly to his home or family.)

“Spiky Spica, you aren’t spiky but your personality is sometimes!” - A Summoner Quote

Love Language: Gives: Acts of Service / Physical Touch. Likes to Receive: Words of Affirmation.

Spiky’s Flower: Yellow Tulips symbolize of unrequited love, though this is an older tradition and less relevant today.

Spica CANNOT sleep till he has completed everything necessary and then some each day leading to barely even getting 4 hours of sleep a night! Summoner make him SLEEP, please!!

Everything in his room is COLOR and ALPHABETICALLY ORDERED. If even ONE THING is out of place he will not stop till it is back in its rightful place.

Washes his hands like a million times or they aren't clean enough to him. Germs... ... Everything is sanitized. Daily. Possibly more. Arcturus helps him not go overboard.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Vega HCs

The First Sorcerer of Lyra

Gender/Pronouns: Transmasc/enby he/it

Sexuality: Demisexual because the only attraction he’s felt was the crush he has had on the Summoner since childhood, despite being apart for so long it didn’t take long for those feelings to rekindle.

Health Related Content: Autistic

Magic Specialty: Pathfinding Magic

Love Language: Gives: Acts of Service / Physical Touch. Likes to Receive: Words of Affirmation.

Vaggie’s Flower: The Pink Camellia, it symbolizes longing.

Other

Due to sensory processing disorder, common in Autistic individuals, he will need time to decompress for a variety of reasons likely related to that or socially.

Vega often avoids non-packaged yogurt tube foods because the textures are overwhelming for him, though he'll try whatever the Summoner makes it's best to keep it separated and simple to not overwhelm it as this could cause a sensory upset

Alpheratz tries finding Vega new safe foods whenever old safe foods aren't safe anymore.

Vega sticks to a very strict routine, typical of Autistic individuals. If anything throws off his routine he may need to take a break before trying to get back on track or won't.

All his clothes are made with soft sensory friendly fabric, including uniforms. Contell Academia makes sure to accommodate all its student's needs.

Likely possessive due to his abandonment issues, he doesn’t want the Summoner to disappear again.

Incredibly possessive of Summoner to the point of threatening Sirius and attempting to have their magic sealed once they reconnect with Ursa Minor and find that they were once Polaris.

THIS 'TIS THE END MY LOVELY READERS, thank you for being here, existing, and reading this :3 buh byeeeeee~

[dawn-moths]

“Hungry For Something New”

Werewolf!Dabi x Female Reader

*vampire!tomura*

part 1 * part 2 * part 3 (COMING OCTOBER 2024!)

word count: 13,000+

(During a trip through the woods to your grandmother’s house, your journey takes a rather unusual and horrifying turn. Because you’ve heard the rumors about the monsters that roam between the trees, the things that exist between man and beast, and it just so happens one of them has set their sights on you. But, even at the end of it all, you still can’t quite determine whether Dabi is truly the enemy that the village paints him as— the villain he seems so intent on trying to prove to you he is— or just a lonely outcast who needs some company from time to time. Who knows though… perhaps, you’ll find yourself running into him again on another outing in the future.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! red riding hood au, smut, loss of virginity, mention of a dead sibling, predator/prey dynamics, references to church/religion, dubcon, angsty and manipulative (but lowkey soft) dabi, title taken from “i want you” by george barnett, happy halloween everyone!

*ao3 mirror*

***

The brisk chill of mid-fall snuck in through the crack of your bedroom window, and from beyond the latticed glass, the next gentle gust that swept by stirred up little whirlwinds of orange and brown leaves in a short, wispy waltz.

As you rose from your bed, shrugging off the layers of quilted blankets, a shiver skittered through your bones. You rubbed your eyes, felt a yawn rising in your chest, and once it had passed you caught the faint sounds of two familiar voices muttering beyond your door.

“What’s going on out here?” you’d asked with a cheery kind of curiosity as you’d entered into the quaint living area, the fireplace already lit and a neatly wrapped box adorned with a silky crimson bow placed perfectly on the kitchen table.

Your parents had exchanged knowing looks, both of them wearing mischievous smirks at sharing the secret, and urged you to go and find out for yourself.

You sat in one of the rickety old chairs, the hand-sewn cushions placed upon them having flattened over time, and adjusted your thin nightgown over your lap before scooting in closer to the table and sliding the box towards yourself.

At first, you just wanted to stare at it, mesmerized by how much care had been put into the wrapping alone, but then, once you felt the pressure of your parents’ eyes watching over you, waiting to experience your reaction, you gave the bow a gentle tug, undoing it before gingerly pulling apart the pretty paper of the package.

You gasped when you first caught a glimpse of the vibrant red color through the layers of white tissue paper, looking over your shoulder at your parents as if to ask, “Is this what I think it is?” and your mother gave you an encouraging nod to continue.

Once you revealed the contents of the box a little more, lifting it from its pristinely folded place, you still almost couldn’t believe it.

“This is—” you’d begun to say, eyes sparkling with admiration as you studied the craftsmanship— everything from the evenly sewn stitches to the silk lined interior and the shiny gold clasp to fasten the crimson cloak shut.

“I know how much you’ve been wanting a new one,” your mother cut in, drifting closer to your side and urging you to stand up and try it on. “Your old one was starting to look a little tattered, and I figured since you’ve been helping out so much by taking those deliveries to your grandmother every week…”

But then, as you ran your fingers through the fluffy fur trim of the hood— black with sporadic yet distinct speckles of grey and white— your smile dropped and you looked to your father.

“It’s the one from last year,” he answered before you could ask, expression solemn, already knowing you knew just as well the exact animal it had come from. 

At first, the wolf had managed to sneak in during the night and kill off what little livestock your family had— all five of the hens, the turkey, and both of the goats— only, even after it had claimed the final one of its prey, it hadn’t stopped there.

You’d had a baby brother, a little over a year ago.

He’d almost been five.

Your mother still had a trio of nasty, jagged scars slashed through her arm at the failed attempt made to defend her son.

You’d been away at your grandmother’s that day, running another delivery, only to return home to be met with the blood and the horror and the terrible loss.

Once word of the tragedy had reached the nearby town, the church had called it a work of a demon, the head priest coming by to sage and salt your little cabin on the edge of the forest’s clearing.

But your father had never believed in the hellish lore spread by the bishops and believers in town. He knew the creature was living, breathing, mortal.

Though, he’d vowed as he’d taken up his gun and started out the front door back then, not for much longer.

He’d caught the culprit a couple weeks later, tracked the beast further into the woods and shot it dead as it devoured a deer, carnage dripping from its maw, bits of raw flesh dangling from its fangs, lips curled back in a vicious snarl when its amber eyes landed on the hunter for but a moment before the trigger was pulled and the bang sent all the crows fleeing from the trees.

That gunshot hadn’t brought your brother back, and the pelt of the animal would never heal your mother, but having dragged the monster back and stolen its skin did ensure that it couldn’t hurt anyone else.

And you hated wolves. Hated them. Had hated them even before the incident.

But now, seeing the remains of the creature decorating your pretty red cloak was…

Well, it was unsettling, to say the least.

Before you could determine whether it was morally wrong to wear the coat of your brother’s killer, your father added, “With this, no other creature will dare harm you…” He approached you, took the cloak from its grip in your trembling hands and slung it over your shoulders, your mother buttoning the clasp, both of them standing back to take a look at you, their oldest and only remaining child. “It’s your shield now. Wear it with pride.”

You stroked the fur again, closing your eyes for a moment as your brother’s smiling face flashed through your head, an image that seemed to fade more and more by the day.

You’d never seen the wolf— never seen any wolf while venturing through the woods, thank god— but from the damage it had done and the way your father had described it in the moments before the creature became a corpse was enough to give you a clear picture of how terrifying and ferocious it had been.

You let out a shaky breath, trying to steady your mind before looking back to your parents with a sadder, softer expression. “Thank you…” you said, fighting to bite back tears. “Both of you, really…” You reached up to put an arm around each of them, pulling the three of you into a hug. Then, into their shoulders, you muttered, “I’ll take good care of it.”

But today there wasn’t much time for an emotional moment of bonding, for you had a rather important delivery to make. Your grandmother lived alone, insisting on staying in the cabin her own father had built back when he and his wife had first settled on this land. It was the house she’d grown up in, had gotten married in, wanted to die in when her day came to pass, and the journey there and back would take you half a day, getting you home right before dark so long as you stayed on track.

While your mother packed some last minute things into a wicker basket, you got changed, choosing your favorite white dress and hickory brown corset, the one that laced up in the front, your boots— worn from the consistent travel over rough terrain— a similar color to match.

Your old cloak had been a lighter shade of brown, constructed using the leftover scraps of fabric from an old winter coat your mother had made for your father, and had started fraying and tearing at the edges a few years ago, unlined and undecorated and plain.

As you fastened the billowing cloak of crimson back around your shoulders, the black fur popping against the brilliant burst of color, and gave yourself a look in the mirror, you couldn’t help but admire not just the garment’s beauty, but your own.

This shade of red gave you a rather sophisticated air, but also alluded to something dangerous.

You couldn’t help but smirk at your reflection, liking the confidence glinting in your eyes, looking more like a predator than prey for once. You felt like, even if you did encounter a wolf, it was a fight you could win.

“Absolutely gorgeous, darling,” your mother complimented as you emerged from your room, ready to depart as soon as she handed over the basket to you. She adjusted your cloak, fidgeted with the bow tied hastily on your corset, and then lovingly smoothed down your hair. You leaned into her touch, her warm palm pressed to your cheek.

“Be careful out there,” she reminded you, as if she ever gave you a chance to forget.

“Aren’t I always?” you responded with a playfully devious raise of one eyebrow.

But then, before you could give your final farewells, your father beckoned you back into the kitchen, seeming to have a gift of his own to bestow upon you.

“Just in case,” he said as he handed you a silver dagger, the blade freshly sharpened and shining under the white morning light that flooded in through the window above the stove, the rays cutting through the thin veil of fog that had started settling over the land at dawn.

You gripped the hilt, testing the weight of the weapon in your hand as you began, “But I thought you said—” the wolf’s fur would be enough to protect me.

“I know what I said,” your father cut in, closing his hands around the one of yours that held the dagger, a silent plea for you not to fight about it and just comply, even if only for his own sake. “But there are more than just wolves to worry about in those woods,” he warned, the way his stare shifted from stoic to stern making you swallow down any remaining objections you had. “If you ever find yourself in a situation that you can’t outrun…” His grip around your hand tightened a bit, and you were sure that, in that moment, he was being flayed by the guilt at not being able to save your brother, his son. “Promise me you’ll fight.”

You didn’t know what to say, could only stare up at him with big, terrified eyes before blinking away the hesitation and forcing a firm nod, replying with a low and hopefully convincing enough, “I promise.”

Your father kissed your head, ran his fingers through the black beast’s fur on the hem of your hood, and then reminded you not to stray from the main path.

You never did, never had, would never even dream of it…

Or, at least, that’s what you’d told your parents time and time again.

Truth was, you were often tempted to traverse a little further into the trees, wind through the maze of dense forest in hopes of finding some rare wild flowers or a ripe berry bush or any other amenity the land would be generous enough to lend you.

But you’d been scared stiff by the echoing shouts of hunters, the sharp bark of their dogs, the eerie howls and cawing of the crows that rippled through the air as the sun sank closer to the horizon. Sometimes, you jumped upon hearing a twig snap only for a rabbit or squirrel to scamper out from the brush.

And, even though your family had assured you there was nothing besides humans or animals to fear lurking in the woods, you’d heard others in town— both believers and skeptics alike— whisper rumors about shapeshifting monsters that lured in naive travelers only to eat them alive, leaving their carcasses split open with splintering ribs and missing hearts.

There was one old woman who claimed to have survived such a creature in her own youth. Most people considered her mad, gone crazy after her husband’s gruesome death, or, as some more sympathetic spectators of her stories believed, the result of escaping a wolf attack that left her traumatized and therefore believing the culprit to be more fiction than fact.

But you’d heard her recite the tale before— seen that look in her eyes, a wild, feral kind of fear unlike anything you’d ever experienced— and if she wasn’t convinced she was telling the truth, then she sure was one hell of a storyteller.

The church thought her riddled with dark magic and demons, the altar boys encouraged to shoo her away from the front steps of the cathedral with their brooms as they swept if she migrated too close and, a few times, you’d heard some of the older boys making cruel jokes about how the town ought to tie the old woman to a cross and do away with her the same way they did to those suspected of being witches or devil worshipers— the accused swallowed by vicious flames and charred down to black ash. They said perhaps she’d be put out of her babbling misery then, but you didn’t think the old woman was crazy or afflicted by something evil.

You knew she was just scared.

Scared like your mother had been in the months following your brother’s death, afraid the creature, though deceased, would somehow call upon its brethren to seek revenge against the hunter’s wife who’d escaped, though not entirely unscathed.

“That’s another good thing about this new cloak,” your mother interrupted your morbid daydream, smiling at you in that tender, loving way of hers, despite everything. “With this color, the hunters will be able to spot you more easily. I used to worry about you accidentally getting mistaken for a deer and shot with your old one…”

“Easier for hunters to spot,” your father agreed, but then added with his usual bout of cynicism, “and predators too.”

Your mother gave him an unamused glare, not wanting this day to be spoiled more than it already had, before turning her adoration back onto you, reminding you once more to stay safe and hurry back before dark, promising to have your favorite soup ready for dinner upon your return. That got a smile back on your face.

You shared one last hug with your mother before heading out the door, waving behind you as you trekked up the hill, occasionally glancing back until your house disappeared through the fog.

And then it was just you and the forest that lay ahead, nature’s ambiance quick to surround you on all sides, sometimes making you stop and wonder if you’d just heard your name being called from far off in the distance or if it were merely a mix of your imagination and the ravens’ croak.

But when you heard the distant, eerie echoes of what you could’ve sworn was a howl, you didn’t question if it was just in your head. You knew, that time, it was real. So you adjusted the basket slung over your arm and picked up the pace.

***

By midday, the fog had only grown thicker, and you didn’t dare stop for your usual afternoon snack break, too afraid you’d lose sight of the sun’s hazy, blurred position through the misty clouds and end up running late, causing you to get caught in the dark on your way home— something to be avoided at all costs.

But it wasn’t only the fog that had you on edge, barely able to see more than a few yards ahead of you with each step, but the fact that a distinct pang of paranoia had settled over you not long after losing sight of your house.

You felt like you were being followed, being watched, and for all the trips you’d made over the years running these deliveries, you’d never quite felt something as strong and unshakable as whatever this feeling was.

You couldn’t stop glancing over your shoulder, quickening your step when a low growl or— even worse— an almost human sound echoed through the curtain of pine. You kept finding yourself short of breath, heart skipping a beat then hammering behind your ribs when you took off in a short sprint, racing to the next turn of the path before repeating the cycle of paranoia, perception, perplexity, and panic.

At one point though, you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, shaking your head at how utterly ridiculous you were acting. Because why, with all your experience traveling these woods without incident, would something choose to change that now?

Maybe it’s demons, a traitorous voice in your head hissed, or maybe it’s the monster who traumatized that old woman. Maybe it’s finally awoken from its long slumber and is hunting for a new victim.

To distract yourself from your less desirable thoughts, you started humming a familiar, calming tune, one your mother used to sing to lull you to sleep as a child. You finished the melody once through, going to repeat the phrase a second time, only halfway through stopped short when a low, smoky voice began harmonizing with your own.

You froze midstep, sucking in a short gasp as your eyes went wide, searching the scene before you as if you expected the owner of the voice to come into view like a ghost through the fog, silhouette shifting behind the veil before stepping into sharper focus.

However, when it finished the song for itself, it let out a low, sinister chuckle, a growl laced throughout the husky sound.

You whirled around, expecting to see the figure standing behind you, yet was only met with more emptiness. You went to reach for your knife, but your hand never even made it to the hilt.

The moment you spotted two sapphire orbs glowing through the mist, you turned and took off running.

***

With the path long abandoned and the forest growing even thicker with every panic-stricken stride you took, the wicker basket and its contents scattered long behind you in a trail of bread and cheese and berries and herbs, you didn’t even have time to comprehend just how lost you really were.

All you could focus on was not tripping over the uprooted trees and thorny underbrush as you dashed and leapt further into the fog.

There was a moment when you thought of that horrible black wolf— the one that you knew to be dead, the fur around your neck a solid and sure reminder of that— and the mental image of the devoured deer it had been feasting on when your father had finally found and shot it dead.

You were the deer— you realized as you leapt across a shallow stream, nearly stumbling and falling upon your landing, scrambling to stay upright and keep going— soon to be consumed by whatever was giving chase, your pursuer not far behind from the sound of fast, heavy footsteps catching up closer and closer by the minute.

But you were being played with, your terror utilized as amusement.

Because, if he really wanted to, he could’ve caught you before you’d even had the chance to take one more step down the path. He could’ve leapt out and pinned you to the dirt and the leaves and sunk his fangs into your throat before you even had the chance to scream.

But that would be no fun, Dabi had thought to himself as he gave chase, tormenting you even further as he howled and cackled behind you, wanting to remind you that, even if you couldn’t see him, he was still there, still closing in and soon to trap you, quick little rabbit that you were.

And it was so cute, how hard you were trying to escape, thinking you stood even an iota of a chance when up against him. Adorable, how you kept letting out little whimpers and whines whenever the toe of your boot caught under a rock or a vine and you nearly went tumbling forward, breath catching with the first signs of sobs when you began to realize you just couldn’t shake him.

When he finally did decide to catch you, he was going to have so much fun, absolutely savoring the way you would writhe in his grip, trying so hard and failing to get free as the reality of the situation dug its claws in deep and made you shake with terror.

“Oh little rabbiiiiiiiit!” he sang, forcing you to glance over your shoulder once more, this time causing you to take the crucial misstep that finally ended this chase, sending you tripping and tumbling down to the ground, rolling a few times and collecting some brittle leaves inside your cloak which was now smudged with dirt.

You tried to get up but winced when you felt a sharp pain in your ankle, having twisted it on your way down, leaving you to struggle and try to crawl away, pulling yourself towards the nearest tree to help yourself stand upright again, pathetically attempting to limp further away.

But then, from behind the next tree you were about to pass, out stepped your pursuer to bar your path, tall and thin and far too smug for anyone’s good, his cobalt gaze cutting through the fog before the rest of him could. Dabi stood before you, arms crossed as he leaned against the trunk of the pine, declaring through a barely amused drawl, “Caught’cha.”

You went to dive away from him, yelping when he caught your wrist in one of his fists and yanked you back, his fingers digging painfully into your hammering pulse and making you grit your teeth and whimper, holding you up by your arm and trying to get a better look at you.

“Hmm…” he hummed in contemplation. You could feel his breath on your face as you squeezed your eyes shut and turned your face away, too afraid to stare directly into that smoldering sapphire, knowing you’d only be met with cruelty and a sadistic sort of satisfaction that he’d caught you— caught his prey.

“Well, would you look at that…” he went on, taking your chin in his other hand, forcing your face to turn forward again. You were crying now, tears leaking through your tightly shut eyes as every breath you exhaled shuddered more than the last. He let out a puff of a laugh, grip on your jaw tightening until you had no choice but to look at him, pleading with your eyes for him to stop, that he was hurting you, begging for him to let you go. “You’re a lot prettier when you’re not running away from me, y’know.”

He squeezed your jaw hard enough until your mouth was forced open, flashing a sharp-toothed smirk when you let out a terrified and slightly embarrassed little squeak.

You’d never seen a man with teeth like his before, incisors sharp enough to tear through flesh and bone and tendon, sharp enough to rip another’s throat out as easily as tearing off a chunk from a loaf of fresh, warm bread.

More tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your dirt-smudged cheeks and meeting under your chin, dripping down into the fur of your cloak.

“Why ya cryin’?” he asked, cocking his head slightly to one side, faking innocence. His smirk returned though, hooking one of his thumbs into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue as he concluded with a dark and threatening, “I haven’t even done anything to you yet.” When you tried to pull your head free, his grip on your jaw only increased, using the pain to hold you in place.

If you ever find yourself in a situation you can’t outrun, your father had said, promise me you’ll fight.

You’d nodded your head, accepted the knife as you made the promise.

And you’d tried running. It hadn’t gotten you anywhere good.

Perhaps it was time to consider the alternative.

“What’re you doin’ out here all alone, little lamb?” he cooed, slipping his thumb back a little further, nearly making you gag, and pressed down firm on your glistening pink tongue, mesmerized as your spit began to collect and pool, licking his lips as his own mouth salivated. “It’s dangerous for a girl like you, y’know…”

Then, you bit down on his thumb hard. Hard enough to make him swear and pull his hand back from you, giving you just enough time to reach for your dagger and take a swing at him, cutting a slash through his wrist, albeit shallow.

He hissed and growled, flashing a feral kind of fury your way as you inched back, pointing the end of the blade out before you and ready to strike again if he dared get close enough. Dabi knew you couldn’t get very far running with an injured ankle, probably couldn’t even walk without too much pain, so it wasn’t you getting away that he needed to worry about. You were aware of this too, but you couldn’t let him onto your own self-doubt.

You thought back to your reflection in the mirror that morning, the red cloak that covered you reminding you of a rose— beautiful from afar, but if reached for would be quick to prick you with its thorns.

That’s right, you thought to yourself with malice, I can be dangerous too.

You slashed the weapon through the air, trying to lunge forward half a step as an intimidation tactic, but that air of confidence fell from your entire being the moment you took his appearance in full, enough distance between you two now for you to see the whole picture, the unmistakable ears and tail that could only belong to a wolf perched upon his spiky black hair and swishing irritably behind him.

But it wasn’t just those characteristics that caught you so off guard.

It was his scars too. So many of them pressed under his eyes and jaw, his neck and chest and in discolored blotches trailing up and down his arms, his hands, skin melted and marred by what you could only guess were burns.

But what— or who— could have done something like that to him?

You realized it was likely only one person— one group of people— on account of how often the church liked to remind the public how they dealt with things they deemed inhuman.

Maybe if this man (if he could be considered as such) weren’t trying to kill you, you’d feel sorry for him…

Dabi let out another one of those sinister chuckles, proving himself to be anything but amused as he waded back into the fog, speaking as he disappeared into the mist, “You really shouldn’t’ve done that…” And then he was gone. Out of sight, but not retreating.

You turned in small, stuttering circles as you tried not to shift too much weight onto your sore ankle, dagger held out before you and ready to draw more of his blood if you so much as thought you saw his form shift through the mist.

But he was merely toying with you again, hiding out and letting your own terror unravel you, letting it wear you down enough so you lost some of your fight before he would strike again.

And it was working, the more adrenaline you lost, the more your injury began to ache, the looser your form became, and then, just as you were beginning to think perhaps he really was gone, that now your biggest problem would be making it out of these woods alive, forget about before nightfall, you backed up into something— someone.

“Why don’t you put the knife down…” Dabi’s voice sounded right beside your ear, his fist once again latching around your wrist, squeezing until the pain caused you to unclench your fist and drop the blade, your last hope at fighting swallowed up by the thick ferns by your feet. “Wouldn’t wanna hurt yourself.”

“That’s rich…” you retorted with scorn, wincing as his grip pressed in harder, merely for the sake of drawing more of those pitiful whimpers from you, “coming from you…”

Dabi let out a sardonic scoff, pulling you back against his chest, holding you in place even as you twisted and writhed against him to break free. “Yeah, well…” he murmured, grabbing your other wrist and twisting it painfully behind your back, nearly causing your knees to buckle as you let out a yelp, “I think I wanna be the one to hurt you.”

You kept trying to fight, even tried to scream, but Dabi didn’t seem to be concerned with being overpowered or overheard. Eventually, he even seemed to grow bored of the whole thing, as if this wasn’t a matter of life and death.

Well, for him, you supposed it wasn’t.

“What are you gonna do to me?” you eventually gained enough courage to ask, trying to spit the question out with more fury than fear. “Gonna eat me alive and leave my corpse for the crows to pick at?”

He seemed to freeze then, as if confused, before letting out a real laugh and saying, “Oh wow, so they still spread those kinds of rumors in the village, huh?” He adjusted his grip on you, flipping you around so you were facing him now, though was quick to back you up against the nearest tree, taking both your wrists in one fist and pinning them above your head, bark scraping against the tops of your hands, caging you in as he leaned in towards your face and spoke in a voice just barely above a whisper, those glowing sapphires narrowed in a sick, satisfied kind of cruelty, “Bet they scared all the kids stiff with stories of the big bad wolf, huh?”

You winced and turned your face away from him again as he drew nearer, his lips ghosting over your neck as he nudged his nose into your hair, taking in the scent of you, memorizing it.

And, god, if he’d been drawn in by your pathetic little sounds of struggle before, so weak and helpless against him, then your smell was enough to drive him crazy.

He had half a mind to sink his fangs into you right then and there just to save himself the trouble of keeping you compliant later. Or, he then figured, perhaps he’d like to hear you gasp and yelp once he finally got a taste of your blood.

But you were still insisting on playing the bravery card, or whatever little of it you had left, stuttering out in response to his taunting, “Y-yeah well, if what they describe in the stories really is you, then I’m afraid they’ve severely over-exaggerated.”

Another one of those patronizing chuckles, the tilting of his head as he pulled back to stare you directly in the eyes, his cerulean glare burning through you as you forced yourself not to look away. You gulped, your entire body trembling, and he brought his free hand up to your neck, lightly tracing the line of your throat, almost as if admiring it, your skin soft under his calloused fingertips.

When you tried to tug away, his grip on your wrists only tightened, the pain continuing to keep you obedient, and the scariest part was quickly becoming how unpredictable he was, so set on tormenting and hurting you one moment only to touch you like you were the first human he’d come across in who knows how long the next.

Well, the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you probably were the first human he’d come across in a while…

“I’ve seen you out here before, y’know,” Dabi then admitted, his voice soft and soothing, a stark contrast to the way he was crushing your wrists in his palm, your bones grinding together and making you grit your teeth. “But today…” He took the fabric of your cloak between his lithe fingers, tracing the line of the hem up towards where the black fur bordered the hood, tufts of it tickling your cheek when you tried to turn further away from him. “Today this caught my attention.”

Again, your father’s warning came back to you with horror, like ice settling in the pit of your stomach, a sinking realization.

Easier for hunters to spot, and predators too.

Even with the dagger, you’d been nothing but helpless prey.

“It’s new…” he remarked, carding his fingers through the fur, gazing at it, almost with a hint of recognition, maybe even fondness, before flicking his stare back to meet yours. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s from the wolf that killed my little brother!” you snarled, eyes brimming with tears again, though this time it was all resentment. “That’s what we do to monsters around here. We end them. Then we wear the remains to warn their friends that they’ll be next!”

Your frightened shaking had turned into enraged quaking, gaining some of your fight back despite now being unarmed and outmatched. Because you had teeth and claws of your own. They might not’ve been as sharp, but the intention behind the attack would land regardless. The moment he let you go, you’d show him.

The scarred man— wolf— whatever he was— narrowed his sapphire glare, clenching his jaw, clearly displeased with your commentary on his kind, but then, to your own surprise, he actually released you.

You were so shocked you nearly forgot about attacking him, just stood there, waiting for him to move impossibly fast again and pin you to the ground and stain your white dress to match your cloak with your own blood.

“It’ll be sundown soon,” he then said, voice calm yet still warning. “You don’t wanna get caught out in these parts after dark.”

You scowled at him, wishing you still had your knife, trying to search through all the fern and reddened flora touched by fall for a glint of silver without being too obvious, and replied, “What I wanted was to be at my grandmother’s by now and already headed home!” You adjusted your cloak, fidgeting with the gold clasp, not daring to take your eyes off him. “But even if I wanted to get there at this hour, it wouldn’t even matter because you destroyed my basket!”

“Oh, I was the one who destroyed it?” he asked, lazily faking offense. “Actually, I think it was you who dropped it back there when you veered off the path.”

“Only because you chased me!” you bellowed, sentence upturned towards the end with a frustrated shriek. “So if this is all fun and games for you, I hope you’re satisfied! But, if you don’t mind, I need to find my way back to the main path.”

You went to take a step and walk past him, suddenly feeling more inconvenienced by his antics than anything, but he grabbed your arm, yanking you back and making you hiss and shoot him a venomous glare. “You think you’re gonna make it home before dark with that injury?” He glanced at your ankle, which was surely a little swollen inside of your boot with the way you were still limping on it.

You shrugged him off then, not keen on accepting any of his favors, if that’s what this was leading to. “Well what choice do I have?” you asked rhetorically, frustrations fading back into fear.

Because he was right.

You wouldn’t make it home before dark going half the speed that having two working feet normally lent you, and you most certainly didn’t want to be caught out here without a way to run if things turned south, especially in this unrelenting fog.

He cracked another one of those sly smirks, eyelids drawn down halfway over his entrancing blues, the points of his incisors poking out from behind the crooked, scarred smile. With his ears mischievously perked, he said, “I know a place you can stay the night,” and a part of you was starting to wonder if it just would’ve been better if he’d killed you like you’d thought he was going to do before.

Because wherever he was taking you, whatever was to transpire, would be a lot harder to explain away than the gruesome death of a girl devoured by some beast on her way through the woods.

If you were lucky enough to live to tell the tale, that is.

Bending down, you reached into the tufts of fern until your fingertips brushed against the dagger, taking up the blade with your eyes still trained on him, only placing the weapon in its sheath once you felt he wasn’t going to attack again.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” you asked, trying to inject some authority into your voice despite your distrust in him and the situation you were willingly walking into. “Lead the way.”

***

His cabin was nice, all things considered.

It was nestled between a shroud of thick, prickly pines, deep in the woods— deeper than you ever dared even think about going.

“Did you make this?” you asked, scoping the place out as you turned in slow circles about the room, your injured ankle still throbbing with a dull pain but, so long as you kept a majority of your weight off of it, wasn’t too bad.

As he stoked a fire in the hearth, Dabi replied with a disinterested drawl, “Found it abandoned a while back. Before, well, y’know…” You didn’t know, actually, but you didn’t ask any further questions, were too focused on the collection of miscellaneous items that decorated the place, the chilling thought that perhaps they’d once belonged to lost travelers just like you setting you back on edge. “Anyway, I came back and claimed it once they ran me outta town.” He stood with a quiet groan, studying you with those glowing eyes from across the room, his ears going flat against his head as he saw you about to touch one of his trinkets, snapping at you to keep your hands to yourself.

Like he could talk.

“Sorry…” you squeaked out, hands pulling back into your chest and away from the multi-colored scarf you’d been hovering by. But then you perked up, his prior words seeming to register to you suddenly. “Once they ran you out of town?” you repeated, voice upturning with the question. “Who? The village? Did you used to live there?”

Dabi crossed the room, stalking near, arms crossed and gait lazy, yet his ears perked forward, a dangerous kind of inquisitiveness flaring in his cobalt glare. You took a few steps back, keeping the distance the best you could, but wincing when you put too much weight on your injury.

“You mean you really don’t know?” he asked, one inky brow lifting.

He was so close now, caging you against the wall with his presence alone, and again, with your hand resting on the hilt of the dagger, you found yourself examining his scars, all the scorched flesh that wrinkled and pulled in what looked to be such a painful way every time his face made even the slightest expression.

“I really don’t know…” you admitted, terror filling your body. You gulped, hoping to swallow down as much fear as you could stomach, but Dabi didn’t miss the way the confession quivered slightly towards the end.

Now he smirked, that cold, cruel grin tugging at his scars and making the smile spread crooked. “Huh… Well, I guess by the looks of you, you would’ve been just a kid, too,” he began, his tail lifting a little, the black fur of it catching the amber firelight around the edges. “You don’t live in the town, do you?”

You clenched your jaw, unsure whether you should answer truthfully or not. Because if you lied, maybe it was a trap. He clearly held some disdain for the nearby village. Perhaps he’d been waiting to get his hands on one of its citizens so he could punish them for the crimes of their church accordingly. But, adversely, if you admitted the truth, he might be able to track you down back to the little log cabin your father had built out in the clearing on the edge of the woods, the village just a tiny collection of steepled roofs from down the slope.

So, instead of risking either outcome, you opted to answer with a question as well. “They were the ones who hurt you, weren’t they…?”

You found your hand leaving the safety of the weapon secured at your hip and slowly reaching up for his face, the darkened scars patching along his flesh beckoning your sympathies, begging to be tended to. All the while, images conjured from the darkest parts of your imagination depicted him crucified, flames licking at his feet before catching on his clothes and setting his body ablaze, his raspy voice breaking with a blood curdling cry.

You were surprised that he actually allowed you to touch him, your fingertips merely ghosting over the scars on his jaw, and then you asked him, your voice barely above a whisper “How old were you…?”

Dabi’s eyes nearly fluttered closed at your gentle touch yet he clasped his fist around your wrist, lowering it from his face, denying himself your silent sympathies as his eyes opened again, though they couldn’t meet yours as he answered, voice a little hoarse, “Sixteen…”

Your heart was breaking for him, the boy who’d been condemned as a monster and burned at the stake. He shouldn’t have survived— it was a mystery how he had— but he’d managed to get out alive, even if just barely.

“How did it happen?” you breathed, trying to blink away the mist of tears that welled in your eyes. “I mean, how did you become…”

Dabi let go of your wrist, flicked his gaze back to yours now. With his jaw set and glare steely, he clarified, “You mean how was I turned?” You nodded, chin quivering with both sorrow and fear.

But Dabi sighed then, his dangerous expression dropping back into something weary. He took a few strides over to the table, pulled out two chairs, sat in one, and nodded at the other. “Have a seat,” he offered— perhaps ordered. “It’s a long story. And you should be resting that injury anyway.”

You did as you were told, feeling relief upon sinking down into the chair that was surprisingly comfortable, despite the fact it looked like it was close to falling apart. Before he began, he asked you one last time if you actually wanted to hear the story, saying it wasn’t a pretty one, and you just nodded.

And he wasn’t kidding.

It was horrible.

Tragic.

Gruesome.

But amidst all the gorey details there was one crucial piece of the puzzle revealed. Dabi nodded at the fur lining your cloak, nose scrunching a little with distaste, and said, “I knew it was him the second I saw you. That fur… He was the only one who had a coat like that.”

You sat there, in shock and unable to read whether his disdain was more for you or the animal you were wearing around your neck.

Because, despite the fact that the creature that had damned him to this life and killed your only sibling was dead, Dabi still held him in some kind of high regard. Back when he’d been turned, the speckled wolf was all he’d had. It had been the only one like him, the only one who could understand his pain. So now, with the creator dead, what was the creation to do?

Perhaps become the creator himself, already having a candidate sitting pretty in one of his chairs, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“You two were… friends?” you hesitated to ask, once again preparing to reach for your dagger.

“No,” Dabi scoffed, looking at you like you were stupid. “But after what he did to me, what choice did I have but to trust him? To do what he said?”

You were just about to tell him how sorry you were for that having happened to him— both with the turning and the town— but he cut you off with a slightly biting, “Don’t be. It is what it is…” He sighed, his ears twitching a bit and his blue eyes gaining a far away look, like if you gazed into them for long enough, you’d see the fragments of the memories rippling like coins shining from the bottom of a deep well. But then his smirk returned, even if it was still flickering with a little melancholy, and stated, “They created their own monster anyway. It’s them who’re still afraid of me, not the other way around.”

You supposed he had a point, even if it was still sad.

“So, you’ve lived out here in the woods all by yourself since then?” you asked, glancing around at his knick-knacks again, this time focusing on what appeared to have once been a child’s stuffed animal, a rabbit— once white— turned brown and grey with time and torment. One of its eyes was missing, the remaining black button slightly pulled free from its stitching. You wondered if any of these objects had once belonged to him, had been recovered from his human life, or if he’d had to start from scratch and pick up scraps just to make his house feel more like a home.

“Let’s not do this,” he replied, which caught you a little off guard. Your head snapped back to him, wearing a confused look.

“Do what?” you asked, a nervous smile tugging at one corner of your lips, gaining a terrible feeling that your time in his good graces was finally up.

“You know what,” he insisted with a bit of a sneer, giving you a look that was both exhausted and annoyed. “If you know what’s good for you,” he pointed one of his long, bony fingers lazily your way, “you’ll forget you even met me.”

You knew he was right— knew that the town might burn you at the stake for even mentioning having seen the wolfman, forget about having accompanied him to his house— but you also couldn’t help but be curious.

It wasn’t every day that you met a real, live myth. And a myth that might hold more answers to your brother’s death, if you could bear to hear them.

But before you could try and pry even the most trivial of answers from him, a loud growling erupted from you, both your hands instantly wrapping around your belly, your eyes going round with embarrassment.

By now, you would’ve eaten lunch and dinner, but you hadn’t stopped for your afternoon break on account of the fog and you’d lost your basket during the chase. If you’d made it to your grandmother’s house late and ended up staying over, as you often did when the sun set early in the winter, you and her would be sharing some homemade tomato bisque and dipping in soft chunks of bread torn off the loaves your mother had packed. 

So, in other words, you were starving.

You gave Dabi a guilty look, but before you could start to explain, he just waved off your worries and stood from the table, saying as he began to walk towards his cluttered kitchen, “Gimme a sec, I might have somethin’…”

He returned a few minutes later with some bread and jam. The bread was halfway to stale and the jam was hardly sweet, but you were too hungry to complain. Plus, just because he was being nice to you didn’t mean he still didn’t intend to do you harm later. Insulting his offering might just speed up any ill-intentions he had planned. And this would buy you time to think too, discover an escape route of some kind.

However, once you both had eaten your fill, night fully blanketed over the sky and the fog dissipated just enough to show a hazy orb of the nearly full moon glowing through the clouds, you asked him if what they said about full moons and monsters was true.

“The closer it gets to a full moon,” he explained, ears twitching a bit as if the mere confession of his affliction agitated him, “the closer I get to fully turning. Y’know…” he rolled his eyes and lazily swished his tail, “in case you couldn’t tell.”

Your hand twitched, wanting to brush your fingers over the fur lining your hood again, but you fought back the urge. The thought of the beast that had killed your brother once again flashed through your mind and you wondered how closely he’d resembled a human just a few days before. It raised a very important question in your mind then.

“Do you…” You gulped, trying to steady your shaking hands, your quivering voice. “Do you remember what you do… When you transform fully, I mean?”

Dabi slouched back in his chair a bit, admitting, “No… During full moons, we lose all our human memories, and when we wake up the next day, we can’t remember what we did as wolves either.” Then his ears perked up, curious. “Why?”

You asked him if he knew any others like him— others who’d been changed, could transform— and he said he didn’t, not since discovering the one who’d turned him was dead nearly a year now.

He could only assume that, on nights he fully transformed, he lurked and hunted and howled just like the other wolves that lived in these woods, the real wolves, that is. He then made a comment that perhaps he could be guilty of killing innocent women or children just the same as the wolf decorating your hood and he’d be none the wiser.

Needless to say, you didn’t much appreciate that bit of commentary.

You wanted to cry again. You wanted to hit him. You wished you’d let yourself draw your blade so you could drive the blade through his heart. Because even if he hadn’t been the wolf that had killed your brother, the fact that he knew that wolf— could one day be that wolf for someone else— was enough to rile up your need for revenge.

“And what?” you asked, your voice dripping with venom. “You just think you should be allowed to live this close to the town? To even exist at all, if you pose such a threat?”

Dabi’s eyes widened a bit then, a little shocked by your accusation, but clearly not as worried about your fist curling around the dagger’s hilt as you wished he would be.

“And where else do you suggest I go?” he taunted, grinning at your failure to do what you thought was the right thing— to take him out like any other hunter would, like your father should’ve raised you to do.

Only, you weren’t a hunter. Not even close.

In that moment, you were just a girl. A scared, weak little girl who couldn’t do the right thing, even if it meant sparing others from such a gut-wrenching fate.

“How did you find me?” you asked, the question half a demand. But then you rephrased your query, changing it to, “Why did you find me?”

“I smelled the food in your basket,” Dabi lied, boring his malicious stare into you until you backed off a little. But then that playfully mean streak swooped right back in as he added, “But once I saw you, well, guess I just couldn’t help myself.” Your scowl deepened but that only made him snicker. “No, but really. With that red cloak, you stood out even through the fog. You know a hunter could spot you from a mile away, right?”

“Well, yeah, that’s sort of the idea,” you corrected him, pure hatred in your tone. “The last thing I need is one of them mistaking me for a deer and shooting me dead.”

“Well with those doe eyes of yours I’d say it’s still an easy mistake to make.”

You froze, once again finding yourself unable to predict his intentions, you brows still slightly pinched but in a way that was more worry than rage now. His stare stayed steady, waiting for you to react in some kind of way.

You cleared your throat, feeling the nerves skittering around in the pit of your stomach.

You knew that look. Had seen it directed your way at least a dozen times on every one of the rare outings you made into the village to procure more provisions. It was half hungry, half arrogantly hopeful. You were used to averting your gaze though, hurrying past the men whose eyes trailed after you like hungry dogs salivating over a piece of meat. Though, with those piercing blues shining through the dark at you, even with the quickly rising terror, it was hard to look away from him.

“I…” Your voice cracked and you tried to swallow again, the lump in your throat only growing. “I think my ankle has probably had enough rest… I think I should get going, I—”

“Oh, c’mon,” Dabi said, rolling his eyes. He pushed up from his seat at the table, chair legs scuffing across the uneven wooden floors. He cocked his head at you, flashed those sharp white teeth, and said, “We both know you’re not going anywhere.”

***

Maybe the priests had been right.

Maybe demons really were real.

If they weren’t, then how had Dabi bewitched you into his arms so easily?

What had possessed you to let him kiss you, to not back away when he’d leaned in and pressed his rough, mismatched lips to your soft, trembling ones?

Even when he’d disarmed you, grabbed up your knife for the second time and slid it far out of reach across the kitchen table, why hadn’t you tried to pull away? Begged him to stop? Plead for mercy?

Maybe because your insides had twisted in a painfully sweet way when his big, slender hands had started tugging at the strings on your corset until it came undone, slipped up under your dress and touched you in places you’d never felt before, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin and your breath to hitch as the sensation traveled up your thighs, your hips, your stomach, your ribs.

Surely this must be the work of a devil, you thought, giving yourself to him so willingly as if he wasn’t going to use you and then do away with you like monsters were known to do. Because it felt too good, sinfully good, when he sucked dark bruises into your neck, nipping at your tender flesh with sharp incisors and chuckling darkly whenever he pulled one of those helplessly adorable whines from you.

“If only you knew how long I’ve waited for this…” you thought you heard him mutter as he pressed his nose into your hair again, savoring your scent like it was honeysuckle sweet. “How long it’s been…”

You thought maybe you ought to stop him before things went too far, his strong hands gripping you a little tighter, pulling you harder against him, settling you in his lap and making you squirm when you felt the hardness of his length pressing against your most intimate areas.

You tried to push against his shoulders, create a little distance between you two, but when you saw that feral desire burning in his eyes, you knew even if you asked— even if you begged— there was no way, not in any hell he’d come from, that he was going to listen.

“I…” Your voice broke, the confession stuck in your throat.

Dabi was hardly listening, too occupied with running his hands up and down your form, making you let out a startled squeak when he grabbed your ass, clearly enjoying the way you looked so shy— so embarrassed— at being in this situation, legs spread over his lap and throbbing little clit searching for any pressure, any relief, when you settled a little more over his growing erection.

“God, if you could see yourself right now…” he sighed, as if in awe, combing his fingers through your hair, smoothing it back from your burning face. “Fuckin’ beautiful… Gorgeous… Almost makes all these years of isolation worth it…”

He was working on trying to slip his fingers beneath your chemise, get to the parts of you hidden beyond all those undergarments, and you felt your heart leap into your throat.

“I… There’s something— I don’t think we should—” you’d tried to explain, but Dabi stopped you short as you let out another quiet, caught off guard gasp, his thumb once again finding the plush of your lower lip, mesmerized by your pretty little mouth whether you were speaking or silent.

He should’ve just kissed you again. That had gotten you to shut up and do what he wanted the first time.

“Oh, c’mon…” He gave you a disappointed look. “You really gonna deny me now that we’ve come this far? I mean, what?” he scoffed. “You’re not gonna sit here and tell me you’re a virgin, are you?”

Turns out you didn’t even have to answer that time. Your face turning beet red was enough to tell him he’d been right.

“Oh…” His expression morphed into that playful deviousness again, something only a little evil swimming beneath the surface. His smoky voice hummed out a note of amusement when you looked away, your body starting to tremble again. “Well, now ain’t that somethin’? I snag me a pretty girl and she’s a virgin? I guess that priest was wrong when he said I was goin’ ta hell, ‘cause I’d say this is as close to heaven as it gets.” You shot him a glare that you hoped was angry, but with the fresh tears misting in your eyes, knew looked more ashamed and scared than anything.

When you tried to shrug free of his grip, he held you still, not letting you budge more than an inch. He took your chin between his fingers, forced you to look at him as he asked, like it would make a difference, “What? You betrothed or somethin’? Savin’ yourself for marriage and all that? Like a good girl?”

“No,” you shot back with scorn, though you wished instantly maybe you’d made up something along those lines. “But that doesn’t mean I—”

You hated yourself for crying, suffocating on the sobs that you tried to swallow and stifle, and Dabi wiped away your tears with the rough pad of his calloused thumb, clicking his tongue and cooing at you. “Don’t worry…” he muttered. You met his eyes again, naively thinking maybe he’d let you go afterall. But when that greedy, dangerous glint reignited behind his glare, you knew you’d been wrong to assume. “I’ll make sure I go easy on you, at first.”

Suddenly, your position was shifted and Dabi was the one on top of you, pinning both your wrists above your head on his tattered, patchwork sofa, one knee between your thighs to nudge them further apart as they attempted to clench shut.

“Just be a good girl for me,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “Just be a good little lamb and I’ll treat ya real nice…”

You were just about to try and convince him that, if he let you go, returned you home safely, you’d find a way to cut a deal where you brought him weekly deliveries as well, maybe some freshly baked bread and homemade jam that was actually sweet, roast turkey, your mother’s delectable, spicy gingersnaps— anything he wanted, aside from yourself.

But Dabi was impatient, if anything. And after humans had tried to take so much from him, he was done waiting for them to give him anything.

Because why debate a deal when you were already holding the prize?

“Please—” you choked out, your last resort at trying to garner any of his sympathy, if he were capable of such an emotion. “Just… Please just be careful. I— Please don’t hurt me…”

Dabi smiled then. A real smile, not one of his crooked, malicious smirks. He lightly brushed the back of his knuckles along your jaw, admiring how soft you were, how perfect, how pretty, how delicately human. “Don’t worry, doll…” he murmured, nudging your knees a little further apart, though that time, you didn’t try to resist as much. “I’m not the one you need to be afraid of.”

With one fist still securing both your wrists above your head, he used his free hand to tug down the neckline of your dress until your breasts were exposed to him, the light of the fireplace dancing over your bare skin and turning it gold in the dim light. You let out a shuddering exhale, never having felt so vulnerable in your entire life, and instinctively took a try at pulling your hands free from his grip, but his hold on you only tightened.

You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a whimper, tits bouncing a little with every panting breath, the anticipation searing through you like a red hot branding iron, making you jolt.

You expected him to be rough with you regardless of your pleas and his promises, so you were surprised when he lightly brushed his thumb over the sensitive bud of your nipple, watched it harden from the teasing ministration, only edged on by the way you mewled at the sensation of it, even if it was partially against your own will.

After he pinched and rolled the bud between his rough fingers, causing you to arch up into his touch, he pulled your dress further down to expose more of your torso to him, taking in each new inch of your skin that he saw like it was holier than the last, his mouth beginning to water, his cock aching with how hard it was straining against his trousers.

“I’ll tell ya what…” Dabi muttered, his voice right beside your ear while he stripped you of your dress, tugging down your chemise along with it, tossing them to the floor where your cloak and corset already lay. “Whoever you do end up marrying… He’s gonna be one lucky bastard.”

You were about to snap out some begrudged response to that, but lost your confidence when his mouth latched onto one of your breasts, his tongue laving around the pebbled bud to further tease you— further torture you.

You were trying to stay quiet, as if every single sound of pleasure that escaped you was admittance to defeat, but it was hard when he was so skilled at making you melt, as if he already knew exactly what made you tick.

You bit your tongue and whimpered when he nibbled at you, heat spreading across your skin when you felt his hand cupping your sex, one of his fingers gliding across your slit, spreading you further open, your arousal making you slick and warm for him.

“Come on now…” he half chuckled, half growled, lifting his head only enough to meet your eyes. He gripped your cheeks between his fingers, squished them in his hand, forcing your lips open just a little bit. “None ‘a that… I wanna hear you.”

Then, unexpectedly, he slipped a finger into your tight, fluttering hole, curling it inside you knuckle deep, and when you let out the most delicious little moan, he swallowed the end of your pleasure with another kiss, his tongue working its way into your open mouth.

“That’s it…” he muttered, his lips still against yours, drinking in as much of you as he could. “Keep on doin’ that for me… Just like that… Such a good girl…”

Not daring to defy him, you didn’t try to mute your mewls and moans any longer, crying out in a way you’d never heard yourself sound before when he slipped in a second finger, slowly beginning to pump in and out of you while his thumb massaged firm circles against your swollen little bundle of nerves, more of your slick dripping into the palm of his hand.

“S-stop—” you choked out, wincing at the sting of his fingers scissoring you open wider, trying to arch away from his touch while your cunt only sucked him in further. “P-please— ‘S too much!”

But Dabi wouldn’t relent, could tell by the way your breathing became erratic, your stomach muscles tensed and your legs began to stiffen that you were getting close, just from his fingers alone. With an unamused drone, he replied, “I think we both know you don’t want me to stop, doll. At least, not yet…”

And the worst part was, he was right.

Because it felt so good. And you were so close. And you were starting to fear that you’d purposefully stray from the path again the next time you had to make a delivery, just to chance running into him again.

When your orgasm finally washed over you, Dabi worked you through it, letting the high linger as he kept collecting your arousal, spreading it around to keep you slick for him, continuing to tease you until you were all worked up again.

But he’d done you enough favors already— more favors than he’d originally intended to— and it was his turn to take what he wanted. And how could you blame him? When he could’ve just taken you in the middle of that foggy forest clearing and killed you afterwards, he’d made things nice for you— even made you dinner, if stale bread and barely sweety jam could be considered as such— and was even planning on releasing you once all was said and done, how could you blame him for taking a little something for himself?

“God…” he sighed as he pulled his aching cock free from the constraints of his trousers, the tip blushing red and already leaking copious amounts of pre-cum. He gave himself a few languid strokes, hissing a little and already imagining how good it would feel once he was inside you.

You were staring at him— at it— with wide, terror filled eyes, unable to tear your startled gaze from his length until he was settling back over you, forcing your thighs further apart.

“C’mon…” he urged, taking your chin gently in his fingers, lifting your gaze to meet his glowing sapphires again, a faint attempt to put you at ease. With his voice fading into what, for him, was supposed to be a soothing coo, he said, “I made ya feel good the first time, right? Well this is only gonna make it better. Just trust me…”

As he stripped himself of his remaining clothes, leaving the black fabric in piles before the fireplace to tangle with your pieces of white and red, you thought to yourself how you weren’t so sure about that.

You’d never seen your own anatomy in that way— never even seen a picture or a drawing, since any books containing such vulgar images were confiscated by the church— but you were pretty sure, given by how just the intrusion of his fingers had stung, that a cock as girthy and long as his wasn’t going to hurt any less.

As he began to line himself up with you, you went to grab his wrist, as if you had even half the amount of strength it would take to fend him off, and he quickly flicked his wrist to turn and take hold of your own, capturing you once again. But you didn’t try to fight. You just looked at him through your lashes, almost as if you were guilty of something and had just been caught in the act.

“Just… go slow, ok?” you whined, a pout pulling at the corners of your pretty little lips.

Dabi flashed a wolfish grin, the points of his incisors catching the amber firelight and reminding you that he wasn’t quite human, as if the ears perked forward amidst all that spiky black hair and the fluffy tail swishing— dare you consider it wagging— eagerly behind him wasn’t reminder enough.

He let go of your wrist, stroked your cheek in a way that, if not for his nature, might’ve been considered loving, and promised to take good care of you.

And that time, your better judgment be damned, you believed him.

So you lay back for him, surrendering yourself fully to the beast, and tried not to push him away when you felt his velvety tip nudge at your tight little entrance.

But he abided by his promise— went slow with you— the best that he could.

As much as he wanted to sink into you with one harsh thrust, fist wrapped around your neck to feel the cry of pain vibrate through your throat, sharp teeth biting down into your tender, unclaimed flesh, he didn’t.

He tried to call upon his past humanity, think to himself that, maybe, in another life— one where he’d never been turned into a monster and condemned for a title that had been forced upon him— he would’ve met you weaving your way among the village crowds, that wicker basket slung over your arm. Maybe you would’ve given him a smile and wave when you saw him perched at the corner. Maybe he would’ve been the one to ask for your hand, gotten to have you like this in the way that you’d probably envisioned.

Back before he’d been branded by these scars, disfigured to resemble an animal that was loathed by the townsfolk and the church and the hunters alike.

Back before he’d been imprisoned by a life of isolation and solitude, cursed to roam between the pines until an unsuspecting, yet perhaps easily coerced, traveler crossed his path.

Carefully, Dabi rolled his hips into yours a little further, feeling you wince as he sunk in a few more inches, your body already constricting tight around him and making him wonder just how long he would last. He let out a stifled groan, his attention shifting to where his fingers were interlocked with yours, pressing your delicate little hands into the cushions of the couch, not recollecting having granted you such means of intimacy and comfort yet unable to pull away.

“Hurts—” you whimpered, fingers flexing against his scarred hands as you shifted a little, hoping to find a more comfortable position.

Dabi tried not to feel too guilty when he ignored your plea, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder so he could settle in even deeper. You squeezed his hand tighter, little nails biting into his skin, and let out a pained whimper as yet another inch of him carved out a home inside you.

By ways of feeble comfort, the wolf in him nuzzled his cheek against yours, his forehead coming to rest in the crook of your neck until he was fully inside, stilling himself for a moment as you adjusted to the stretch of him. He pressed gentle kisses along your shoulder, one for every shuddering exhale you breathed out through your stifled sobs.

“That’s it…” he tried to praise you, raspy voice a mere whisper. “That’s a good girl…”

He started moving then, keeping you close to him, trading body heat with you like, after this, he’d be damned to an eternity of biting winds and freezing nights, and endless autumn fighting to frost over his bones until his corpse was reclaimed by the earth.

And, god, you felt heavenly, angelic little mewls mixing with the rhythmic slap of skin on skin, the crackling of the fireplace, his thrusts picking up speed and that low growl vibrating in his chest.

Right on the edge of your next release, Dabi pulled out of you, repositioned you to lean over one arm of the couch, most of your weight resting on your elbows as he gripped your hips and pulled your ass closer to him, causing you to arch your back and let out a worried little whimper.

But that time, when Dabi nudged his tip back into your leaking little hole, it didn’t sting nearly as much, to your relief. He nestled inside you with a little more ease, stroking a hand down your spine and making you tremble as he began again with the slow, rhythmic, rolling of his hips.

You felt the pleasure tingling through your body, blood feeling heavier in your veins every time the curve of his cock nudged a sweet spot deep inside of you.

But before long, his thrusts regained their previous vigor, pounding into you until you were crying out and your cunt was clenching down on his cock, your silky walls forcing a long, low groan from him as he filled you with hot, sticky cum— so much of it your belly felt heavy with it by the time his cock stopped twitching inside of you and started to soften.

Even then he remained inside you, greedy for your warmth, draping himself over your back, his scarred chest blanketing your helpless little body, not so much caging you against the couch as simply resting with you there.

You didn’t try to shrug him off, not only because you didn’t have the strength, but because you liked his warmth too. It was different from yours. Yours was like the glowing embers of a dying flame, still hot enough to feel with yours hands hovering over it but not enough to burn. His was like a humid day in summer, the heat radiating off of him, touching everything around it, an inescapable, smothering kind of warmth.

Eventually, when you were just beginning to doze off, Dabi lifted his body from yours and pulled out of you, leaving you feeling empty and uncomfortable, cold air rushing in to latch onto your sweat sheened form.

“At least this still feels the same as when I was human…” you thought you heard him mutter, your consciousness slipping a little further. He gently turned you onto your back, brushed some of your tousled hair from your forehead, tiny strands sticking to your temples.

With all your senses dulling, the pleasure lulling you into a deep, sated sleep, his voice began to sound far off, a mere muffled echo of that smoky tone even as he lifted you into his arms and began to carry you upstairs.

“‘S shame though…” Dabi spoke softly, now only to himself. “Cause I have to let you go…”

He lay you across his makeshift bed, the bundle of old, frayed blankets stolen from nearby hunting camps, and just stood and watched you taking in slow, deep breaths, so pretty, whether you were running from him or fighting him or fucking him, falling asleep afterwards.

He didn’t really want to let you go. If he wanted to, he could keep you. It wouldn’t be hard, not when he’d also procured several chains and shackles used by the hunters to keep their hounds secured to the posts when they were waiting out a herd.

But if someone like you went missing, people would be sure to notice. The last thing he needed was to give the church a real reason to come looking for the one demon they couldn’t condemn. Besides, he could still track you, follow your scent back to your cabin and wait out your next delivery, coax you off the path and maybe even convince you to accompany him back to his secluded little place between the pines.

For now, though…

For now, Dabi just curled up beside you, nudging his nose against the softness of your skin and hoping for dreams of a time when maybe he could’ve stayed a man instead of turning into a monster.

***

The following morning, as day broke over the forest, thin rays of light slipping through the cracks in the trees and climbing up to the dewey windowsills, you stirred.

You felt something soft tickling your skin, blinking open your bleary eyes to see Dabi’s fluffy black tail draped over your legs from where he lay next to you, splayed out on his stomach with his face half hidden in a pillow and still sound asleep.

A strange part of you was tempted to reach over, scratch behind his pointed ears like you sometimes did with the stray dogs of the village who weren’t too afraid to approach you, but caught yourself and silently retracted.

The weight of last night quickly returned to you as you shifted and moved to sit on the edge of his bed, a distinct ache pulsing between your legs as you searched for your clothes, remembering they were downstairs by the fireplace before tiptoeing down the creaking stairs to gather them and slipping off to a more private part of the cabin to redress, fastening the red cloak back over your shoulders and trying not to dwell on the fact that you’d just done something that could never be undone.

You glanced behind you at the stairs, gaze following them back upwards to where you could just barely see the bedroom door left slightly ajar, your traitorous sympathy causing you to almost regret leaving him like this— leaving him all alone for who knows how long. But what choice did you have?

You grabbed up your dagger, which was still on the kitchen table, wincing as the old floorboards whined under your feet, and carefully crossed the room to the front door.

You only made it ten feet from the cabin’s entrance before you heard his smoky voice call out behind you, causing you to turn and see him leaning crooked in the doorway, “If you wanna get back to the main path,” he instructed, pointing a finger in the direction opposite you were currently headed, “you’re gonna wanna go that way.”

You hesitated, gaze flicking from him to the vast expanse of forest in the direction he was guiding you, wondering if he were telling the truth or not.

“Don’t worry,” he assured you, waving a hand at your worry. “Just go straight that way and you’ll find it, but I’ll warn ya…” You met his eyes then, catching that glowing sapphire gaze narrowing into something preparatory once more. “If I catch you in my territory again,” he teased, “I might just decide to keep you as my pet.”

With that, you simply swallowed, gave a nervous nod, and went on your way.

By the time you made it back to the main path, it was late morning. The fog had cleared, and you were beginning to recognize your surroundings.

It would only be a few more hours until you reached home.

In the meantime, you worked on coming up with a believable enough story to cover up what had really happened. But you knew one thing for sure…

You were going to remember the infamous wolfman— the one with entrancing cerulean eyes and inky black hair and all those scars— who lurked those woods for the rest of your life. And, for better or for worse, it was a myth you were going to take to your grave.

***

(Aaaaaaahh!! Sorry this turned out so long! I sort of ended up abandoning my outline and just going more stream of consciousness halfway through, but I’m pretty satisfied with how it turned out :)

also sorry for getting carried away with the lore lol

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed and have a wonderful halloween!

Thanks for reading! <3)

((Part 2))

[elevant39]

It´s a wizard and fairy kinda thing

So... I decided to drop another post here... I am so sorry it´s so long... This time about the connection between Wizard 1 and Pixy. (I will refer to Wiz 1 as Lucan for the rest of the post) Mostly because for how little we get, the implications do have a pretty big impact on Pixy as a character (his motives to join AWWNB specificaly). At least that is what I believe. So once again I am need to reference the perfect guide: https://www.skywardfm.com/aczpg-ace-pilot-profiles Now let´s get started. Connection between Pixy and Lucan Thanks to the Perfect guide we can get a really important clue about Pixy and Lucan right from the start. And that is that they are a long time acquaintances. This on it´s own gives us a verry important info about Pixy´s idiology. Pixy most likely had anarchist views before the start of the game. We just never heard about them before Directus because well... Up until that point Pixy didn´t really have a problem fighting in Belkan war. It´s only after he is kinda forced to be part of the counter attack (aka he is on the offensive side) he starts to talk about some of his views. Mission 7 and 8: "Nuclear inspection”, huh? What a joke…"; "Hey Cipher, you hear me? Just look at the view. There’s not much difference between those countries from up here." This does kinda beg the question about how they know each other: Are they long time acquaintances because Pixy always had anarchistic views? Or are they long time acquaintances because Lucan was the one who introduced Pixy to these views? Unfortunately we can only guess because this is all we get from their past. That being said it´s obviose that Pixy does trust Lucan, now I personaly can´t say how mutual this is with Lucan acting like a cult leader and all that. But concidering that Lucan is the only person who calls him by his 1st name in the middle of combat (a furrball no less). And this is the only time something like this happeneds in the game. I honestly wouldn´t be suprised if it was mutual (not to mention with the whole Larry thing it almost feels like Pixy is getting some special treatment from Lucan). However another factor in this is that Pixy is a Belkan war orphan who grew up in a foreign orphanage. Who after leaving became a merc pilot. Meaning that Pixy most likely doesn't have a secondary education, and might not even have primary one depending on how much access to education the orphanage he lived in provided. To tie it back, it makes sence that Pixy would probably trusts Lucan with some of his more philosophical ideas, since Lucan is described as "A deep thinker and has philosophical thoughts. Often pulls quotes relating to philosophy from books and poems." And that is not mentioning that there is 10 years between them. This leads to another conclusion. Lucan is clearly the one who has more intellectual influence in this dynamic. We can actually see this influence if we look at how Pixy talks before Stage of Apocalipse and later in Avalon. Before he is more straight forward with Cipher and PJ. While in Avalon he starts to use more metaphor and more symbolic language (like Lucan). Notebly Lucan and Pixy are the only members that talk about how they will cause a lot of destruction to create the new world. Lucan with his whole "new creation of destruction" and Pixy with his "reset to Zero". Gault 1 mostly talks about his problem how politicians are the one in control and how they never had to go through what they did, Sorcerer 1 is mostly concerned about how borders will create new conflicts in future and how getting rid of them will libare them..

Another interesting connection is that both Pixy and Lucan are the only enemy aces that will use obvious technological advantages against the player in Zero (when I say this I mean something only Belkan magic can explain). Lucan with his Black Widow YF-23 (which somehow has the power to be invisible?) and Pixy with Morgan (I don´t even want to get into to levels of Belkan witchcraft needed for that ECM system).

Now am I saying that Pixy was brainwashed into joining AWWNB? I am honestly not sure, but I would have to say no. Mostly because I think that Pixy is not a case of brainwashing but a case of slow radicalization and how his few connections and world around him as well as his past shaped him into thinking that lauching V2 was a good and moral idea (from his point of view). But that is only how I see it. With all of this out of the way I will focuse on their 2 conversations and what they mean. In game interractions 1) Mayhem Wizard 1: Wizard 1 here, the enemy has broken formation, take them out. Larry, can you read me? Pixy: Looks like you’ve still got the touch. Wizard 1: It’s happening just as you thought, it’s about time we got out of this dead-end job. Pixy: Not just yet. So this one tells us that they know each other but there is something more important. Lucan already gave Pixy an invatation before this mission to join AWWNB and Pixy is considering it. And not turning it down. Meaning that he was probably thinking about joining AWWNB before Hoffnung. That being said just look how casualy this is said in the middle of a giant furball. Implying that they might be more in contact that we think and this is not the 1st time Lucan is suggesting this to Pixy. Also notice that it almost feels like Lucan is trying to push Pixy to accept his offer. Another interesting fact is that after this conversation Pixy´s and PJ´s talks about fighting for peace takes place. If you do keep in mind that Pixy is thinking about joining AWWNB the convo creats another dimension to it. Mostly that PJ is kinda accidentally acting like an intrusive thought to Pixy, basically telling him all the reason why Pixy should join AWWNB while Pixy is trying to grownd himself with every exuse he has. 2) Stage of Apocalypse Wizard 1: Larry, can you read me? Your fairy godmother’s here, Cinderella. Pixy: How could you after what just happened? Wizard 1: [laughs] Today is your lucky day, Larry, just like your birthday. Pixy: And you’re here to pull me off in a magical carriage, huh? to hell, I suppose…

So this dialogue is important because when exactly it takes place. It mostly happeneds right after the 7 nukes are set of, but more importantly it´s also probably happened in the moment that Pixy is most likely in the worst possible psychological state he can be (with Hoffnung before and all that). And right at that moment Lucan just appears out of nowhere and (at least how I read this) starts to reassure Pixy that everything will be alright now that his fairy godmother is there to make things right and pull him of on that carried to that beautiful ball in that fairytale castel that is Avalon. Just like Fairy Godmother did with Cinderella. In her darkest hour she just appeared and helps her and reassures her that everything will be right now that she is here. This is where I once again do need to get into more of a interpretation territory, from what I can come up there could be 3 explanation why Lucan appears at this moment: 1) Pixy already contacted Lucan that he would be joining Meaning Lucan was there to ensure that Pixy would be able to not only join but also to leave to AWWNB,it's just that 7 nukes worked in his favor. 2) Pixy still hasn´t decided yet and so Lucan wanted to give him one last chance to choose and it was an acident that he just so happened to arrive at the perfect moment when Pixy would be most likely to join him. 3) Lucan already somehow (most likely his connection to Gault 1) knew what will happened and just wanted to make sure that Pixy would be in a state where he will not refuse his offer to join AWWNB. Unfortunately this really is up to how you see it. It could be one of them, or a combination of all of the, or it could have been something completely different. I personally fall into a mix of 1 and 2. But this is most likely because of my own personal reading here. That being said every outcome ends the same. Pixy does accept "help" from Lucan and joins him and his organisation. Bonus mission 16: In Wizard squadron fight (knight route), Lucan does mention with his line Pixy, implying that they did talk to each other. "It's just as he said. He flies with aggression." Interesting thing is that only Lucan said this implying that Pixy might have out of the 4 squadron leaders only talk to him about Cipher. With this I believe I already said everything I could from the text it self. However I would still like to talk about some other interesting parallels between Pixie and Lucan that I found.

Parallels of this relationship Morgan and Merlin It´s interesting that Pixy and Lucan seem to mirror the student/mentor aspect of this relationship. Not only is Pixy parallel to Morgan, but Lucan does share some similarities of Merlin too, with his Nick Name “the Blue Magician”. Combine "Often pulls quotes relating to philosophy from books and poems." As well as the fact that you know he literally has Belkan witchcraft on his side (I still have no idea how you can even explain the invisible jets). Cinderella and Fairy godmother I already mentioned this connection in my dialogue 2. I just wanted to mentio it here. That being said this again goes back into the idea that Lucan is the one who holds more authority in this dynamic. Like a guardian over their and ward (at least at that moment). ACE Combat 3 spoiler START Rena and Dision So for those who haven´t playid it. I will be droping some important spoilers here so... yeah.... It´s interesting that they do seem to hold similar position in their organization respectfully. Both Dision and Lucan are leaders (well in Lucan´s case we can only believe that he is, but even then HE is the one who actually has connection to all the interview pilots so make of that what you will). That want destruction of the world Dision for his revenge and Lucan...honestly I do personally believe that he really is just that zealot and believes that is will create a new better world. And Rena with Pixy being the pilots of Super Planes (Rena being the one in charge of Night Raven while Pixy is the last plan of AWWNB with Morgan). The more interesting parallel is also that both Rena and Pixy are recruited and how.

Rena was groomed (and later even brainwashed) to join Ouroboros and be the pilot of Night Raven. Simular thing could be said for Pixy that he was slowly radicalise by war and probably Lucan to join AWWNB and was later choosen to be the Pilot of Morgan. And this is all I could find since I unfortunately have´t played AC3 fully (this is all that I could find from essays and wiki) ACE Combat 3 spoiler END

Ok so another thing my sleep deprived brain forgot to say is that there is also another parallels in how they are after Avalon and their interviews. After Avalon They are both the only members that still try to somehow continue in the ideology of AWWNB. Gault 1 is death, Espada 2 only was there because of Espada 1 and Sorcerer 1 gave up and lives a normal life (as normal as being watch by Osea can allow). On the other hand Lucan continues in his ideas same as before. Even trying to recreate AWWNB and even trying to assassinate the President of Osea. But was later lock up and turned kinda insane. Kinda going deeper into the dark both metaphorically and literally.

While Pixy thanks to seeing ground Zero and help from people (and probably the fact that he no longer is in contact with Lucan) is able to reflect and learn from all of this. He realizes that V2 wasn't the solution and that to fully understand the situation he needs to learn more about why borders exist and why people creat them. He in a sence returns to light (like there is a literal shot where beams of light are shining on him his last speech)

So yeah I somehow forgot the one thing that make me create this post..... sorry about that....

This is really the end (I hope this time), I hope that you all liked reading this brainrot of mine. So yeah... thanks for reading all of this and sorry for how long this was... and how I forgot to put the last part here Have a nice day

[mihai-florescu]

Can u explain to me the significance of anzu. If u wanna

Signed, someone that only knows of her as the self insert protag and wasn t aware she s somehow very important (i dont go here but i like hearin u talk about it)

Yes! Anzu is a character in her own right with a full backstory that expands beyond enstars actually, in ensemble girls, to the point where it makes me wonder at what point they decided to make enstars to show what she's been up to after leaving kimisaki (the school in engirls. There she is called angie, both angie and anzu are references to the pronounciation of the game titles themselves). She's also the older sister of the protagonist of engirls, a male transfer student from yumenosaki into kimisaki (the plot of engirls takes place in enstars 2 era, so her brother is actually still at yumenosaki during the first year of enstars, he's in the general course though, not the idol one).

The reason Anzu transfered is after a failed revolution she was part of in kimisaki. In that game she is a sort of ghost haunting the narrative, where a lot of characters still mention her (and compare iirc?) to her younger brother. I cant speak much of how this impacts him, ive only read a limited number of engirls stories, mostly ones from before he transferred. Heard the game ends with a timeloop he has to break, so im very curious to one day find a translation for That. So while that's happening over at kimisaki, but let's get back to enstars, where anzu gets another chance at a successful revolution and falls in love with idols in the process. Her presence and trickstars revolution solidifies that things are changing from the war into a hopeful future, the student council arent undefeatable, and there are still new characters that can appear and impact the flow of the story.

When trickstar were broken up by fine she stays and helps in the DDD in a way where, without her, trickstars revolution wouldnt have succeeded. She puts on a mask and joins on stage when the only other member left in the unit was subaru, and the minimum number of people to be qualified to perform is 2. She calls people from her old school in the crowd, amd her brother calls general course students, whose support for her trickstar lead to winning the first live against knights and make way for them to progress to the finals. In the end during the DDD finale it's her vote that makes the difference, going into overtime and making trickstar win. She's a regular person, not a genius, not even an idol, who had impacted the course of events time and time again until the end. She supported Trickstar's revolution, joined them on stage as support, i'd say she is the glue of the unit that helped keep it floating, made it a place to return to. On a grander scale, Anzu is a character who gets a second chance at a successful revolution that ends in happiness, something she had failed at kimisaki. Trickstar are the miracle that changes yumenosaki, but that wouldnt have been possible without anzu's support. Their 5th member.

A critique i see sometimes is that everyone ends up liking her for no reason but...thats not true? Many characters welcome her as a breath of fresh air and a needed new perspective, but others are aprehensive and untrusting in the beginning, it's not like her presence alone magically fixes everything as a deus ex machina or anything, she's actively working hard, to the point where she jeopardizes her own health in the process. And it's also not like she acts the same with all idols either, or doesnt have her own personality and input, she directly impacts their character arcs through her treatment, like in kaoru's case comes to mind first.

This is for ! era at least. I feel more confident talking about that one than !!, where she is part of the P association and experiences hardships and is undermined there, but i am not the person to talk about that as i dont feel like my knowledge of her role there is nearly good enough.