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chiqelatasblog · 6 months

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Can I request imagine: Bi Han fell in love with Shang Tsung's daughter; unlike her father she is gentle and soft spoken and thanks to her father she mastered soul magic takes place when Shang Tsung captured Bi Han and Kuai Liang please?

Um… Well… This imagine turned into a whole one-shot. I'll try to shorten it in the future. I realized that I can't write short fic.🥲

Fates Intertwined ♾️

-> Ao3 link is here.

Pairings : Bi-Han/ Sub - Zero x You

Tropes : Major Character Injury, Blood and Injury, Near Death Experiences, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Falling in Love, Strangers to Lovers, Protectiveness, Possessive Behavior, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence , Intimacy

Summary : Bi-Han, gravely wounded during a mission, finds himself lost in the uncharted territory of Outworld. As he teeters on the brink of death, he awakens in an unfamiliar home. There a woman, a master of soul magic, emerges into his life, her presence calming and gentle as she tends to Bi-Han's injuries. Drawn to her unexpectedly, Bi-Han finds himself experiencing feelings he never had before.

However, little does he know, his savior harbors a secret...

Author’s Note : This is the first request I’ve ever received, I didn’t get any notifications about it so I found it on accident actually. Anyway I’m kind of excited to share it, it’s over 8k (I got away with feelings.) Hope it lived up to expectations! 💕

He was on the brink of death.

Bi-Han felt the specter of death looming closer than ever before as he dragged his battered body through the uncharted terrain of Outworld. While he had faced dangerous situations in the past, none had brought him as precariously close to the brink as this one. With every step, he pressed a hand against his stomach, where a gaping wound on his right side oozed blood, a portion of it torn away. His vision dimmed gradually, like a flickering lamp nearing its end, his breathing ragged, his steps unsteady. Despite having accomplished his mission, he snarled with what little strength remained, enraged that his slight lapse in caution would cost him his life.

Each step grew more arduous, his coordination failing as darkness encroached upon his sight. Unable to discern what obstacles tripped him amidst the dimming landscape, he collapsed heavily onto the ground. The wound, incessantly bleeding with each convulsion of his body, sent tremors of agony coursing through him, threatening to shatter his teeth as he gritted them in pain.

Struggling to roll onto his side, Bi-Han expelled the soil that had invaded his mouth and smeared his lips, laboring to draw oxygen into his weakened lungs. Above, the sky darkened, with the moon and stars emerging while clouds gathered ominously, presaging the impending rain. It was a grim realization that in this barren, lifeless landscape, he would meet his end alone—a consequence of his arrogance and overconfidence in his abilities. Dry and lifeless plants dotted the cracked earth, while rocks and pebbles stretched as far as the eye could see, with no sign of a river or any semblance of life.

Death had never been a fear for him, he was raised with the understanding that every moment could be his last. Memories raced through his mind like fragments of a shattered mirror; his training, the teachings of his clan, and the faces of those he had loved and lost along the way. Amidst the pain, a sense of regret gnawed at him, whispering of unfinished business and promises left unfulfilled. Yet, amidst the turmoil, a resolute determination surged within him, a steadfast refusal to succumb to the darkness that threatened to consume him. While the frustration and ambition of leaving his goals unfinished weighed heavily, he found a measure of peace in knowing that Kuai Liang would capably assume the mantle of grandmaster and safeguard the clan.

As he drew a deep breath, a fit of coughing wracked him, the bitter taste of blood filling his mouth. Turning his head to the side to avoid suffocation, he surrendered to a numbing sensation that dulled his senses from head to toe.

Finally, unable to stave off the encroaching darkness any longer, his eyes, barely able to remain open, fluttered closed.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

The first sensation that washed over him was a soothing warmth, cocooning him like a comforting embrace. Blinking open his eyes, Bi-Han found himself lying atop a soft surface, the faint scent of clean soap wafting around him. In the distance, he could hear a soft female voice humming a kind of melody, accompanied by the clinking of plates and dishes. Struggling to lift his heavy eyelids, he squinted at the wooden ceiling above him, its rough texture illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight casting dancing shadows across the room.

‘’The hell?’’

His words emerged hoarsely from his parched throat. As he attempted to sit up, the covers slipped off, landing on his lap, and a sharp pain shot through his side where the wound lay. Clenching his hand over the bandages wrapped around his abdomen, he felt the fabric instead of his usual cold skin. The bandages appeared freshly changed, but his right side had already begun to bleed anew due to his carelessness.

With a muttered curse, Bi-Han glanced around the room, his body tensing as footsteps approached. Instinctively, he summoned an ice kunai into his hand, a simple gesture that now felt exhausting under the circumstances. Just as the figure drew near, he leveled the weapon with a silent threat.

‘’I didn’t go through all this trouble just for you to kill me,’’ admonished a soft female voice. ‘’Besides, I’ve just changed those bandages, and now I’ll have to do it all over again. Why are you still sitting? You need to lay down.’’

Bi-Han’s surprise was tinged with suspicion. Was this woman blind? How could she not have noticed the sharp kunai in his hand? Moreover, she appeared unarmed, leaving herself defenseless against him. His anger flared at the implication that he was underestimated. Even injured, he was still a lethal force to be reckoned with.

‘’Do you intend to worsen the bleeding?’’ she continued calmly, stepping closer but maintaining a cautious distance. ‘‘I am not a threat to you. My name is (y/n). I found you and brought you to my home for treatment. You’ve been here for three days. If I wanted to harm you, I wouldn’t have bothered bringing you back from the brink.’’

Bi-Han’s gaze softened slightly as he absorbed her words. Despite his initial hostility, there was something about her demeanor that suggested genuine concern. Yet, he remained wary, his mind racing with questions and suspicions.

‘’Why?” growled Bi-Han through clenched teeth, his gaze sharp as he eyed the young woman standing before him.

The woman blinked in surprise at the question. “I don’t understand.”

“Why did you save me?”

“Because you were dying,” she replied innocently, taking another step toward him. “Now, will you let go of what you have and let me help you?”

“I can take care of myself,” Bi-Han insisted, trying not to be swayed by the woman’s gentle aura as he moved to stand up, wary of her true intentions. The woman’s expression clouded with worry.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Don’t interfere—Fuck.” Despite his attempt to rise, sharp pain lanced through Bi-Han’s body, threatening to overwhelm him. Just as he felt himself faltering, a soft body caught him, careful to avoid his wound. A sweet scent enveloped him—cinnamon and vanilla—intoxicatingly sweet, like fresh-baked buns.

Relaxing involuntarily, Bi-Han allowed the woman to guide him back onto the bed, his resistance waning. She had a point—if she wanted him dead, she wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to keep him alive for three days, despite being a total stranger.

“I have to open the bandages and check your stitches. I’m afraid they may have burst.”

“I’ll take care of it myself,” Bi-Han retorted, refusing to show weakness or dependence.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” The woman’s voice softened, her gentle demeanor tugging at something within Bi-Han. Though he remained silent, she sighed deeply. “I have a light touch and am quite fast, you can trust me. If I happen to hurt you, you can also treat your wounds. I just want to assist and ease your suffering, especially since you’re badly wounded. Oh and besides that, I made some stew. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Bi-Han scrutinized (y/n) for the first time since waking, assessing her body language and facial expressions. As an assassin, he rarely misjudged people. Despite his initial wariness, he sensed a purity and compassion within her that he couldn’t ignore. The subtle tilt of her head and the warmth in her eyes felt genuine. Even though he couldn’t fathom why she would go to such lengths to heal a dangerous person like him, knowing he could easily harm her without breaking a sweat, he found himself appreciating her compassion. Yet, alongside his gratitude, a twinge of annoyance gnawed at him, stemming from her apparent blindness to the danger he inherently posed.

With a resigned grunt, he relented, allowing her to tend to him as she saw fit, though a part of him remained on guard, ready to react at the slightest sign of threat.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

A week had passed since his return from the brink of death, and four days since he had awakened in your home. In that time, while his wound had begun to heal rapidly, his movements remained slow and restricted. Returning to his clan without a full recovery would only be self-torment, risking undoing the healing process with his own hands. And also, you were stubborn about it, showing no inclination to let him go until he was fully restored to health.

As absurd as the situation seemed to Bi-Han, it also warmed him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Despite his injuries, he was an assassin and the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei—capable of neutralizing any threat that crossed his path. But you posed no threat; instead, you cared for him with remarkable dedication, as if welcoming a normal person into your home rather than a man with lethal abilities. Day by day, Bi-Han found himself lowering his guard against you, a sensation he struggled to control.

During the first night, while you slept, he scrutinized every corner of your house, finding no weapons or defenses. There was nothing you could have done to protect yourself from him. Trained from an early age to turn disadvantage into advantage, Bi-Han realized that this was not the case here. You harbored no ulterior motives; your only intention was to help him.

With the house being small and his movement limited by his wound, Bi-Han had ample time to observe and learn about you. Spending time together, he discovered your extraordinary ability to heal and revive him using soul magic—a gift passed down from your father. Bi-Han refrained from prying into your past, respecting the boundaries you set. He knew only what you chose to share—that your father was a merchant who often left for months at a time with his caravan.

Staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, barely able to fit two people, Bi-Han assessed his unkempt appearance. His normally well-kept hair hung loose, difficult to manage due to his injury, cascading down his neck to his chest. A scruffy beard obscured his chin, his pale skin accentuated by dark circles under his eyes. Running a hand through his hair, he muttered to himself, ‘‘I need to shave… And I definitely need a damn shower.’’

‘’Did you say something?’’ Bi-Han looked at you inquisitively from the bathroom door, wondering how long you had been standing there watching him. Your cheeks flushed a sweet shade of red as you realized you had been caught. ‘’Well, the door was open, so—I thought, um… do you need something? I heard you talking to yourself,’’ you said, trying to regain your composure quickly.

‘‘I need to take a shower, and I also need to trim my beard. It itches.’’

‘’Oh, sure. The towels are right there.’’ you replied, entering the room and retrieving the towels from the wooden closet under the sink. As you spoke, you kept busy, avoiding his gaze. ‘‘It’s better if your wound doesn’t get wet for a while longer. I can give you a cloth to wipe your body, and I can help with your hair. If you want, of course.’’ Though you added the last part hastily, your avoidance of his gaze didn’t go unnoticed by Bi-Han, who couldn’t help but smirk slightly.

It was evident from your demeanor that you held an interest in him—your actions were transparent and sincere. What intrigued Bi-Han even more was that he also found himself drawn to you. For the first time in a long while, there was no need for him to be on guard, and your presence offered an unexpected reprieve from his usual responsibilities. You brought him more comfort than anyone had before, your dedication focused on helping rather than brute force, and you effortlessly dismantled the walls he had built around himself. It was a mystery to Bi-Han how you managed to achieve this in such a short time, but your presence had a calming effect on him.

‘’Do whatever you want.’’ Bi-Han said, beginning to undress. Your eyes widened in alarm at his actions.

‘’W-What are you doing?’’

‘’I will wipe my body as you said. Since you’re so helpful, maybe you’d like to assist me with that too?’’ Bi-Han lowered his voice, locking eyes with you as he took pleasure in the crimson blush that spread across your face. He didn’t fully understand this newfound calmness and playful demeanor within himself, but he felt compelled to act this way around you. You weren’t under his command or a threat to be eliminated; instead, you were the reason he was still alive. Though he was reluctant to admit it, he owed you his life.

Your response was stuttered and unclear as you hurriedly left the bathroom as if it were on fire. ‘’Just call out to me when you’re finished. And don’t forget to wrap a towel around yourself,’’ you called out from behind the door.

Bi-Han carefully placed his clothes in a corner to keep them dry, then settled onto the edge of the bathtub, ensuring not to disturb his bandages. Using the cloth you provided, he began to cleanse the dirt and grime from his body, avoiding the area of his wound. Minutes later, when the water ran clear, he wrapped one of the towels around his waist and called out to you.

Opening the door cautiously, you peeked inside to confirm that he was following your instructions. Seeing him with the towel wrapped around his waist, you entered the room and closed the door behind you. “Sit on the edge of the bathtub and lean your head back,” you instructed in a gentle tone. As Bi-Han complied, you adjusted the water temperature for a few seconds until it reached the desired level. Letting out a small murmur of approval, you turned your attention to him, holding a shower cap in your hand.

As your eyes met, your cheeks flushed once again, and you quickly averted your gaze to his hair. Clearing your throat with a small cough, you began to wet his hair, ensuring the water stayed away from his face. Bi-Han watched your every move with keen interest, finding pleasure in your innocence and sincerity.

“Does the water feel too hot?” you asked, breaking the silence.

A small grunt escaped Bi-Han’s lips. “I’m a cryomancer; water temperature doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh, right. I forgot. It’s not every day I meet someone like you. I thought cryomancers were just a myth,” your fingers hesitating slightly as you untangled his hair. Emboldened by his lack of reaction, you continued to work, carefully removing the knots with practiced hands. “Your hair is very beautiful.” you said in a low, soft voice that could be considered shy.

“It’s just black,” Bi-Han replied.

“It’s not just black; it’s like onyx, especially when it’s wet. I’ve never seen such dark black hair before. It suits you.” As you determined that his hair was sufficiently wet, you picked up a shampoo that smelled of sugary flowers and squeezed a generous amount into your hand. “I’m sorry, this is all I have. I hope it’s not a problem.” you said, your voice tinged with apology.

‘’It’s better than dirt,” Bi-Han remarked in a dry voice. Though he had no desire to smell like a flower garden, he also acknowledged that he didn’t have a better option. As your fingers began to massage his scalp, Bi-Han was taken aback by how pleasant it felt. Your deft fingers worked circles on his scalp, lathering the shampoo, and Bi-Han found himself relaxing in waves of relief, melting like ice rapidly thawing. The warmth in the bathroom, the gentle touch… it was almost overwhelming, especially given how skilled your fingers were at their task.

“You might want to close your eyes, I wouldn’t want the shampoo to run into them by accident.” You said, breaking him out of the trance he hadn’t even realized he had slipped into. Once again, Bi-Han was surprised at how low his guard was around you. He had stopped seeing you as a threat some time ago, but he couldn’t comprehend how easily he let down the automatic defenses he had cultivated over many years.

Closing his eyes, Bi-Han waited for you to rinse the shampoo from his hair. After washing for a while, you reached for the towel in the corner to help him dry off.

“Okay, you can stand up, we’re done.” you announced.

Bi-Han stood up quickly, stretching his neck, which had grown stiff from being in the same position for so long, before turning his gaze to you. With your cheeks flushed from the warmth of the bathroom, your clothes splattered with water drops, and your skin glowing from the moisture, you appeared vulnerable and innocent enough to make his chest ache.

Raised in a clan of ruthless assassins where survival and flawless execution of death were paramount, Bi-Han had always imagined the woman who would enter his life as strong, tough, with sharp eyes and an authoritarian nature to adapt to his lifestyle. Yet, looking at you, he began to question this assumption for the first time. You possessed a nurturing side that defied brute force, completely opposite to his expectations, and Bi-Han found himself unexpectedly drawn to this contrast. You were good to him.

“Bi-Han… You’ve been staring at me for a while. Is everything okay?” you asked.

“I want to kiss you.” Bi-Han blurted out suddenly. The words escaped his lips so spontaneously that he was as surprised as you were. Though he could have easily taken you in his arms and kissed you, he wanted your consent, to hear from your lips if you desired it as much as he did. You were the last person he wanted to intimidate or use force on.

As your eyes widened in astonishment, a loud “What?” escaped your lips.

‘’You heard me.” Bi-Han said sharply. Your cheeks flushed to the tips of your ears, the color he liked to see. Approving him in a soft, almost shy voice, your gaze drifted to the ground.

Finally hearing the answer he desired, Bi-Han growled and gently raised your head with his fingers grasping the tip of your chin. He connected his lips with yours, driven by a voracious appetite. This hunger was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, possessing a fiery intensity that shook him to his core. It wasn’t until he kissed you that he realized the depth of his feelings; he could have kissed your lips, as soft and tender as rose petals, for hours, sating an inner thirst he hadn’t known existed.

His hand traced the line of your jaw, capturing the back of your head and part of your neck. Placing his other hand on the curve of your waist, he gently squeezed the soft flesh, eliciting a small, breathless moan from your lips. Your voice, trembling like a whip of flame, ignited a dangerous fire within Bi-Han.

There was a unique taste to you, one that defined you completely. It was clean, like dewdrops forming on leaves in the morning spring, and wet as he slid his tongue between your parted lips. Another small moan escaped you as you placed your hands on his shoulders, your thumbs massaging the veins that began to appear on his neck. Bi-Han found himself hating the bathtub that stood as a barrier between them, longing to bridge the distance between you.

‘’Hold on tight.” He growled savagely, his lips pouring forth a mixture of desire and intensity. With your flushed cheeks, half-lidded eyes, and breathless look, you embodied a dangerous blend of innocence and allure, a presence that could emerge on the wettest of nights. As you tightened your grip on his shoulders in response to his command, Bi-Han effortlessly lifted you from the bathtub, as if you weighed nothing at all.

“Bi-Han! Your wound–” you began, concern lacing your voice.

“I’m fine.” Bi-Han cut you off, dismissing any objections as he instructed you to wrap your legs around his waist. He captured your lips again, this time with a fierce hunger that left little room for gentleness. Despite his intentions to proceed slowly and remain in control, you made it nearly impossible with your presence alone. Your scent, your soft skin, your delicate movements – they all acted as an irresistible spell, unraveling Bi-Han’s logic and common sense piece by piece.

Drops of water from his wet hair trailed down your cheek, then your neck, as Bi-Han followed their path with his tongue. He paused at the curve of your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth.

“You don’t even know how bad I want you. Now.” he declared in a voice thick with desire, his need palpable. Tilting his head slightly, he took your earlobe between his teeth, exerting just enough pressure to send a shiver down your spine. “Can I have you?”

You trembled in his arms, pressing your body against his, and buried your head in the curve of his neck, your voice barely above a whisper, the soft cadence of your affirmation barely audible against his skin.

“Yes. Ah, to—to bed… Let’s go to bed.” you murmured, your voice filled with anticipation.

Responding to your command, Bi-Han carried you swiftly into the bedroom, stealing kisses and caressing your soft flesh which filled perfectly in his palms along the way. As he carefully placed you on the bed, he ensured not to overwhelm you with his weight. With one knee positioned between your legs and applying small pressure to your aching core, he felt your breath quicken, your legs parting slightly, inviting him closer.

“Bi-Han, please… hurry,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with need. Despite not yet fully engaging in intimacy, you were already consumed by desire, your surrender evident in every trembling breath and pleading glance. Bi-Han found himself entranced by the unique blend of your naivety and charm, a combination both intoxicating and heady. It puzzled him how you could exude such innocence while also igniting a fire within him, a sensation he found both captivating and bewildering.

With every inhibition shattered, Bi-Han’s entire being was consumed by you. His mind echoed with a commanding voice, declaring possession. ‘Mine. You are mine.’ With each beat of his heart, the intensity of his desire deepened, enveloping him in a whirlwind of need. His arousal surged with a newfound fervor, driving him to seek you with an urgency he had never known before. He longed to lose himself in your warmth, to leave an indelible mark on you, claiming you as his own in a way that no other could satisfy you again.

‘‘Fuck. I wanted to take it slow,” Bi-Han cursed, his voice filled with frustration.

“Another time,” you replied swiftly. “I want you, Bi-Han. I need you… just… please.” As your attempts to form coherent sentences faltered, you resorted to expressing your desires through your eyes, tears clung to your lashes, your need laid bare for him to see. Despite the flush that colored your face, neck, your chest peeking through your clothes, your timidity had been replaced by a raw, unbridled desire.

“Another time.” Bi-Han echoed your words, his tone laced with determination. It was a promise, a vow to indulge in the intoxicating taste of you until every inch of your body bore his mark. The thought had transformed into a primal need, a longing to possess you completely.

With swift motions, Bi-Han stripped away your clothes, discarding them haphazardly. As predicted, your chest also completely flushed dark, your nipples hardening under his gaze, pleading for his touch.

“You are such a sight… so beautiful,” Bi-Han murmured, his words tinged with reverence. You squirmed under his attention, somewhat embrassed by his words and attempted to cover yourself clumsily. As he untied the towel from his waist, he fixed you with a stern gaze. “Don’t you dare hide anything from me. This is not a request.”

When his cold fingers made contact with the intimate area between your legs, you flinched at the sudden chill. Instead of recoiling, however, you parted your legs, wordlessly inviting him closer. Bi-Han found himself drawn to this decadent aspect of you, contrasting with your usual demeanor. You were slick with arousal, your warmth enveloping his cold touch until it reached a semblance of normalcy.

“Next time, I will explore you slowly, savoring every moment,” he declared, his voice brooking no argument.

And so he did.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Another two weeks slipped by, each day marked by the steady healing of his wound and the gradual return of his strength. Strangely, Bi-Han found himself not minding the passing of time, a stark contrast from his usual restlessness. Even though his days were now filled with the singular purpose of recuperation, he couldn’t bring himself to feel bored in your company.

You had established a routine of caring for him in the house. Every morning, after sharing breakfast together, you diligently tended to his wound, changing bandages with meticulous care. Despite his stature, Bi-Han appreciated the gentleness with which you handled him, as if afraid to cause him any discomfort.

Following this, Bi-Han would retreat outdoors to meditate or exercise, while you busied yourself with tending to the garden and other household chores. Occasionally, you would venture to the market, a task Bi-Han offered to take over multiple times, only to be politely declined by you each time. He sensed a trace of anxiety in your eyes whenever you left, as though fearing his departure in your absence.

The reality of his impending departure weighed heavily on Bi-Han. Though duty called him back to his clan and responsibilities, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you behind. The bond between you had grown deeper with each passing day, surpassing even the connections he shared with his own brothers. You had a remarkable ability to understand him without words, a skill few others possessed.

In your presence, Bi-Han found himself rediscovering aspects of himself long buried beneath the facade of his assassin persona. With you, he experienced a sense of comfort and peace he hadn’t known in years. Every touch, every embrace left him yearning for more, a relentless desire burning within him. He marveled at the intensity of his feelings for you, realizing that he wanted every part of you in a way he had never imagined possible.

His favorite time of the day was undoubtedly dinner. Sitting across from you, sharing simple conversations, witnessing your smile, hearing your laughter, and seeing your eyes light up brought him joy. It was a simplicity he hadn’t experienced since becoming the grandmaster. Once disciplined, strict, and focused solely on responsibilities, he now found value in these moments, offering him a new perspective on life.

As both of you sat facing each other at dinner, Bi-Han decided it was time to address the lingering topic that had hung in the air for some time.

“You mentioned you could remove my stitches in a few days, after that I’ll return to Earthrealm.” He stated firmly. Though he disliked seeing the smile on your face fade, you both knew he couldn’t remain cocooned in this sanctuary forever.

“Oh… So you’ve decided on the day.” You responded, averting your gaze as you spoke. When you reached for your wine, Bi-Han gently grasped your hand, halting your movement.

“I want you to come with me.” he declared.

Your eyes widened with surprise. “To your clan? Really?”

“Yes, I want you to see where I live.” Bi-Han lifted your wrist, his touch still gentle as he grazed his index finger against your skin, all while maintaining unbroken eye contact. “I wasn’t joking when I said you were mine.”

Your cheeks flushed slightly as a sweet laugh escaped your lips, a sound Bi-Han found irresistible. In that moment, he realized his attachment to you ran deeper than he had ever realized.

“You know, I’m not an item that you can take wherever you want.”

“I didn’t mean it in that sense.” His gaze shifted to the dozen bruises on your neck, a satisfied curl tugging at the corner of his lip. Each mark filled him with a sense of ownership, igniting a fire within him every time he saw them.

“Then it’s only fair that I should say that you are also mine.” you countered. Despite your brave demeanor, your face betrayed your true feelings once again. As you took a sip from your glass, attempting to hide your expression, Bi-Han watched you silently, a smile playing on his lips, hidden only by his hand resting on his chin.

As Bi-Han grappled with the conflicting desires pulling at his heartstrings — duty to his clan and the burgeoning attachment to you — a storm of emotions raged within him. The weight of responsibility tugged relentlessly, reminding him of the obligations he bore as the leader of the clan. However, a shadow began to loom over his resolve, stirring a longing for something more.

“I’d love to,’’ you finally said after a moment. ‘‘But I have to wait for my father’s return; I don’t know when he will come here.’’

“You can leave a note.”

“I’d rather talk it over with him face to face,” you insisted politely. “But I can come to visit from time to time. If it’s convenient for you, of course, I’d love to see where you grew up and spend time there.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

It had been five months since Bi-Han returned to his clan, and everything was just as he had left it. Kuai Liang had managed the clan well in his absence, with the assistance of Tomas and Sektor, although Bi-Han knew his brother was downplaying his own contributions. Despite the slight age difference between them, Kuai Liang was more than capable of assuming the role of grandmaster.

There was considerable curiosity among the clan members about his prolonged absence and the circumstances surrounding it. Tomas, in particular, had been concerned for his well-being the most. During a briefing with the council members, consisting solely of his inner circle, Bi-Han provided a summary of what happened, including mentioning you and your remarkable abilities. The news of your impending visit piqued the interest of everyone present, even if they attempted to conceal it.

Although you could only visit twice in five months, you effortlessly bonded with his brothers. Even with Sektor and Cyrax, you made it easy to connect, your kind soul evident in your demeanor and smile. It felt as though you had always been a member of the clan, your presence comforting and familiar to everyone. During conversations, you repeatedly expressed feeling comfortable and safe around them. This, coupled with the unique way you contributed to Bi-Han’s recovery, swiftly earned you the respect of the entire clan.

When you did visit, Bi-Han found solace and peace in holding you in his arms once more. In your absence, he had been on edge, constantly worrying about your well-being. Your presence felt like a breath of fresh air, infusing color and vibrancy into his otherwise monotonous existence. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with you, but your influence had been undeniable from the moment he first laid eyes on you. The desire to keep you close, to protect you at all costs, consumed him, even though he knew the realities of their lives would make it challenging. Being separated from you had taken a toll on his nerves, leaving him irritable and restless. Amidst the tumultuous whirlwind of his thoughts, Bi-Han grappled with the overwhelming desire to see you again.

The last time you visited, you stayed for a while. One night, in particular, is etched clearly in Bi-Han’s mind. A fierce wind howled outside, causing the windows to rattle, while snow fell rapidly, swirling in the storm and clinging to the glass surfaces. Except for the candles flickering in the room, there was no other light, casting a dim glow. The scent of both of you enveloped the room like a heavy blanket.

After bringing you to climax multiple times, your body glowed with vitality like a pearl, cheeks flushed dark with a serene smile adorning your face. Half of your body draped over him, your elegant fingers traced lazy circles on his bare chest, while Bi-Han’s hand caressed the smooth skin of your back. In that moment, he felt complete, as if a part of him that he didn’t even know was missing had been found. It was as if you were both separate individuals yet inexplicably intertwined—each completing the other.

When your fingers ceased their movement altogether, Bi-Han glanced down to see why, his heart swelling with warmth. You had drifted off to sleep, your face relaxed in slumber, lips slightly parted. You appeared so peaceful that Bi-Han couldn’t bring himself to disturb you. This wasn’t the first time you had fallen asleep beside him, and each time, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and a burning desire to protect you. He knew you trusted him enough to reveal your vulnerability in these moments.

His mind was more at ease than ever before. Even though he was in his own home, with you beside him, he felt a sense of belonging that he had never experienced before. Especially during the times he awaited your arrival, he had never felt such intense longing to see someone again—your presence shaking his very core, pushing the limits of his endurance. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could bear being without you; your absence felt like torment, while your presence transformed him into a different man altogether.

Although the notion of someone having such power over him would typically be unsettling, he couldn’t view it negatively because it was you. What concerned him more was the possibility of others noticing—the fear that his enemies might discover you, exploiting his vulnerability by hurtin you.

Two and a half months had passed since he last laid eyes on you, adding to the weight of the task Lord Liu Kang had bestowed upon him and his brothers. He longed to complete this mission swiftly and reunite with you, yearning for the calming embrace of your presence. The strain of constant vigilance was taking its toll on him, both mentally and physically, culminating in his recent capture alongside Kuai Liang.

Navigating the stone corridors of Ying Fortress, Bi-Han found himself flanked by a dozen soldiers, with Kuai Liang by his side and Shang Tsung and General Shao ahead of them. Shang Tsung’s words fell on deaf ears as Bi-Han contemplated his next move, steadfast in his refusal to entertain any offers from these unfamiliar men. His focus remained fixed on devising an escape plan to extricate himself from this predicament. As they traversed the corridor into a vast area, Bi-Han was confronted by a multitude of stone sculptures lining the space. Hindered by the restraints on his wrists, he scanned the area for any potential means of escape, exchanging a knowing glance with Kuai Liang, who mirrored his uncertainty.

“Father?”

Bi-Han’s eyes widened at the sudden sound of a familiar, albeit unexpected, female voice behind them. Sensing Kuai Liang’s reaction, he knew it wasn’t a trick of his imagination. With a swift turn, his heart raced as he watched the soldiers before him part, revealing your approach. What the hell were you doing here?

“What’s going on here — Bi-Han?” Your wide-eyed astonishment mirrored his own. As Bi-Han scanned you for any signs of harm, he moved to approach you. But before he could reach, a soldier struck him in the stomach with the tip of his weapon, causing him to stagger backward.

‘’Stop! What do you think you’re doing?!” Your voice, tinged with worry as you shoved the soldier aside, your anxious eyes locking with his. “Bi-Han, are you all right?”

“What are you doing here?” Bi-Han growled out a whisper, tension taut in his voice.

“I’m asking you the same.”

“What is the meaning of this? Do you two know each other?” Shang Tsung’s voice sliced through the hushed talk, prompting Bi-Han to instinctively shield you, despite the restraints on his hands. Determined to protect you at all costs, Bi-Han urged you to take cover behind him, his voice laced with venom. “Get behind me.” he commanded, his grip tightening protectively around your arm.

“There is no need. He is my father.” You revealed, catching Bi-Han off guard with the unexpected revelation. Stunned by the revelation, Bi-Han chastised himself for not piecing together the clues sooner. Living in Outworld, soul magic, an enigmatic father figure—it all suddenly made sense. Yet, your stark differences in character from your father only deepened Bi-Han’s sense of disbelief.

“Why are they prisoners?” you questioned, your gaze flickering between your father and the imposing figure of General Shao and the eerie aura that seemed to surround them.

“They attacked us.” General Shao asserted, his voice gruff as he responded to your inquiry. “We were about to take care of business before you came, sorceress.” Despite Shao’s attempt to intimidate you with his imposing presence, Shang Tsung interjected before Bi-Han, shooting Shao a warning glance.

“They attacked?” Your gaze flickered momentarily, silently questioning the situation. ‘Why?’ The unspoken question hung in the air, directed at Bi-Han. “I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“They were sent here by Liu Kang’s order. To catch us and maybe kill us.” Shao divulged, his voice dripping with hostility.

“Why so? Nobody has told me anything since I was brought here, and even now you still insist on not telling me. I want to know what’s going on. Tell me the truth.”

“Walk with me,” Shang Tsung interjected, gesturing towards a secluded area. With a final, anxious glance towards Bi-Han, you complied, flanked by Shao and Shang Tsung. Bi-Han’s instincts screamed to follow, but he was thwarted by the soldiers’ firm grip. Initially, Bi-Han braced himself for a sense of betrayal, believing that you had concealed Shang Tsung’s identity as your father. However, upon reflection, he realized that you had always been forthcoming with him, never hiding the truth about your father. Bi-Han had simply never asked. Your genuine reaction to the unfolding events affirmed your honesty. It became evident that Shang Tsung had dragged you into this situation without explanation. All that mattered now was escaping with you safely by his side.

‘’You seem quite invested in these men, (Y/n),’’ Shao remarked in a harsh tone, his words more of a probing question than a mere observation.

‘’It’s none of your concern, General Shao.’’ You retorted firmly.

‘‘But it is my concern,’’ interjected Shang Tsung, his tone authoritative. ‘‘As your father, I demand to know the nature of your association with the infamous grandmaster of the Lin Kuei.’’

‘’Before you question me, father, perhaps you should first explain your activities over the past months. Then, and only then, will I consider divulging any information.’’ you countered. ‘’You dragged me here without giving me an explanation, expecting blind trust. It’s not fair, and you know it. You’re exploiting my kindness, I deserve some answers.’’

‘’I was promised my true potential, and I’m going to get that right back. You’re my blood and flesh, I want nothing more than to secure you a good and wealthy future, I want what is best for you—for us.’’ Shang Tsung continued to talk as he walked towards a dark-colored box that looked like some kind of chest. ‘’Take a look around, do you remember what I told you about this place?’’

You watched him with hesitant eyes, then looked around you before answering his question.

‘‘Yes, you said that Emperor Ying’s Dragon Army was here.’’

‘‘Very true. What I told you was not just a fairy tale. These statues were constructed and enchanted by the great mages in the Emperor’s court.’’ Shang Tsung opened the lids of the box, took out a crown and a small green bottle, and emptied the contents of the bottle onto the crown. ‘‘They are animated by the fragments of souls. Once alive they fight tirelessly, unburdened by remorse or pity.’’

‘’What are you planning to do with these?’’ You said, your voice overflowing with obvious concern now.

‘’If they won’t be on our side,’’ Shang Tsung murmured with a half-smile, placing the crown on his head. ‘‘Then I will eliminate them. This is what I had to do, for our future.’’

The moment he finished his words, six of the soldiers standing a little further away stepped forward, and with mind control, moving nimbly despite being made of stone, they began to descend the steps towards them. Bi-Han’s muscles tensed involuntarily, his body as taut as a drawn bowstring as he observed the approaching stone soldiers. If only he could get rid of these damn handcuffs…

‘’No!” Your panicked scream echoed through the vast area as you summoned your magic, green energy crackling around your outstretched hand in an attempt to halt the advancing soldiers. When you realized your magic was ineffective against them, your attention swiftly shifted back to your father.

“Father, stop this!” Startled by your sudden movement and desperate cry, Shang turned his attention to you, momentarily caught off guard. Seizing the opportunity, you darted forward, delivering a powerful blow to his knee, causing him to buckle and kneel before you. With him immobilized for a moment, you snatched the crown from his head and placed it on your own. ‘‘I’m sorry, father, but I cannot allow this.’’

‘’Have you lost your mind?!’’ While Shang Tsung was looking at you with stunned and greatly betrayed eyes, despite the distance, Bi-Han could see tears welling in your eyes. ‘’I am your father! My blood runs through your veins; your loyalty should lie with me.’’

‘‘I know, and I am sorry,’’ you said, your voice trembling with emotion. ‘’But I love him.’’ Both Shang Tsung and Bi-Han froze with surprise at your unexpected reveal, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief. Your breath came out quickly, the air heavy with tension as a few tears escaped from your eyes, glimmering in the light. ‘’That’s why I cannot stand by and watch you harm him.’’

“(Y/n), behind you!” Kuai Liang’s urgent shout jolted you into action, narrowly dodging Shao’s axe at the last moment. With Shao bearing down on you, Bi-Han could no longer stand idly by. Keeping you in his sight, he and his brother sprang into action, combating Shao’s soldiers amidst the chaos, using the handcuff chains to choke one of the soldiers.

Despite your efforts to evade Shao’s attacks and deflect them onto the stone statues, he effortlessly dispatched them with a few swings of his axe. You tried to keep up with him, but as a healer, your combat skills were lacking, evident in your reliance on the soldiers for protection as you dodged Shao’s attacks. Bi-Han had heard stories about Shao in the past, tales of his power and mercilessness in battle. But now, witnessing Shao’s sadistic enjoyment as he toyed with you, seeing the fear in your eyes, filled Bi-Han with fury and a desire to eliminate Shao.

‘‘Don’t harm her!’’ Shang Tsung intervened, hurling a fireball towards Shao, catching him off guard and forcing him back. “She is my daughter.”

Shao spat on the ground, unaffected by the smoke left behind by the fireball he countered with the tip of his huge axe. “And she betrayed us,” he growled. “You just proclaimed that we would eliminate those who oppose us, sorcerer. That’s precisely what I intend to do.”

As Shao swung his axe again, you pushed the last remaining statue in front of you for protection. However, under the force of Shao’s blow, the statue shattered, leaving a gaping wound from your shoulder to your rib cage. Crimson red blood splattered everywhere, your expression a mixture of pain and shock as you desperately tried to stay on your trembling legs. A pained groan escaped your lips as you stumbled backwards, Shao raising his axe for another strike, this time aiming for a fatal blow.

“No!” While Bi-Han was blowing off the soldier’s head he had knocked down with his foot, bloody brain pieces flew everywhere, his heart was in his mouth. He couldn’t bear to witness you lose your life before his eyes, with so little distance between you.

‘’I told you to stay away from my daughter.’’

In a stroke of luck, Shang Tsung once again caught Shao off guard with a barrage of fireballs, diverting his attention away from you at the last moment. Shao was thrown several meters away, gasping for breath, while Shang grasped you firmly, applying pressure to your wound. Your body tensed with pain, tears flowing freely from your eyes as you struggled to maintain a brave face.

‘’You will bandage this as soon as you get away from here. Do you understand?’’

‘‘Father-’’

‘’Do you understand?’’

‘’Yes.’’

‘‘Good, I’ll buy you time,’’ Shang Tsung urged, motioning for you to leave. ‘‘Take a few of the statues with you; they’ll provide protection until you’re out of here. I’ll find you once I’ve dealt with this.’’

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you managed to press a small, wet kiss to your father’s cheek, gratitude evident in your pale, tired face.

‘‘I’ll explain everything.’’

‘‘Later. Go now,’’ he insisted.

Bi-Han brutally incapacitated the last soldier before reaching you in a few wide strides. Shang’s gaze fixed on him for the first time since his arrival, promising death with its intensity.

“You’d better take care of my daughter, grandmaster. Otherwise, I’ll follow your soul to the Netherrealm,’’ warned Shang Tsung with a menacing tone.

‘‘I will protect her with my life.’’ Bi-Han asserted, though his agreement with his recent foe felt tenuous, the situation now imbued with personal stakes. Shang promptly removed the handcuffs from both him and his brother’s wrists, freeing them.

‘‘Go on quickly. The others will be here soon, so hurry up. My daughter will take you a shortcut.’’ directed sorcerer.

As Shao charged toward them, Bi-Han scooped you up into his arms, finding relief in having you close again. With urgency, he ran alongside Kuai Liang, ascending the steps and leaving the area behind. With your remaining strength, you compelled a dozen soldiers to follow, your hand still applying pressure to the wound. Upon reaching the corridor they had passed earlier, you weakly tugged at Bi-Han’s clothes to get his attention.

‘‘We can’t escape through the main exit, it’s too risky. There’s a passageway from behind the fortress leading towards the mountains; we can slip through unnoticed.’’ you suggested.

‘‘Tomas is out, we can’t leave him here.’’ His brother interjected.

‘‘Exactly where, I can use one of these statues to find and contact him.’’

‘‘He is where the Soul Stealers are.’’

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes and concentrated, sweat beading on your forehead as your skin paled. Despite the obvious pain, you maintained a resolute expression. As they reached a narrow area, your faint voice reached their ears.

‘‘I found Tomas. I’m getting him out through a different exit; it’s too risky for him to come this way.’’

‘‘Okay, we’re counting on you,’’ Bi-Han said, hoping to give you courage. You were so small and lifeless in his arms, though he couldn’t bring himself to say it, his heart ached with painful sorrow as he looked at you. If it weren’t for the faint rise and fall of your chest, he might have feared the worst; you were losing a lot of blood. The wound must have cut deeper than he thought. Bi-Han looked into his brother’s eyes, whatever expression there was on his face, Kuai Liang stopped walking for a moment and squeezed his shoulder, looking at him with understanding eyes.

‘‘We will save her, brother, don’t worry. She’ll be okay,’’ Kuai Liang reassured, and they proceeded to a small room at the end of the corridor. A statue opened the thick old door, revealing a landscape of snow-covered mountains.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

It was already dark when they met Tomas a little beyond the fortress, at the bottom of a frozen river. After you spent the rest of your strength to bring Tomas to them, you fell unconscious, Bi-Han had to hastily bandaged you because he knew he had to keep a distance between them and the fortress in case of getting caught. And when they decided to spend the night in a place that he believed was safe, he didn’t let you leave his side for a moment, even though he was with his brothers and they were safe for now. Tomas had left a short while ago to hunt some mountain hares for food, while Kuai Liang went out to gather supplies to sustain the fire he had kindled.

Bi-Han carefully cleaned the wound with the materials he had and bandaged it tightly. Your bleeding was still going on, but it wasn’t intense compared to the beginning, as long as you weren’t moving, it could buy time until he could get you home. But you would definitely have needed stitches in your wound.

‘’I can heal myself.’’ you muttered softly. Bi-Han didn’t even realize he had said the last part aloud, too focused on gently stroking your pale cheek with one hand while carefully examining you.

‘’How do you feel?’’

‘’Not at my best, but I’ll be fine.’’ You weakly replied. Even if you wanted to reciprocate the gesture by lifting your hand, which was resting on your lap, it was quite difficult for you to do so. Bi-Han noticed this, grabbed your hand, and guided it to his cheek, allowing you to caress it. ‘’Thank to gods, you look well. The others-’’

‘‘We’re all fine except you, don’t worry. You almost died.’’ The last part poured from his lips with great hatred, it felt terrible even to say it. He hated the blood on his hands even more. Seeing you in such a state filled Bi-Han with a profound sense of helplessness. He feared the worst, and it was the most intense fear he had ever experienced. Even now, it lingered in his mouth like a bad taste, causing a churning sensation in his stomach. His entire body felt ice-cold with stress, his instincts had gone into hyperawareness.

‘’It just grazed, it doesn’t even hurt. I swear.’’

"If it had cut deeper, you could have lost your arm as well as your life. It does not suit you to lie, (y/n). I still don't understand how you could be Shang Tsung's daughter."

‘’Are you angry?’’ As your voice quivered with uncertainty, Bi-Han tenderly placed a kiss on the top of your head, offering silent reassurance before you found the courage to speak again. ‘’It’s just… My father is a difficult man and kind of has a bad reputation. People are ready to attack him given the chance. I didn’t mean to hide it from you; I was just afraid you’d leave me once you knew the truth. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

‘’You think a sorcerer can intimidate me?” A small smile appeared on his lips as he continued to caress your cheek. After hearing your confession, he wanted nothing more than to reassure you and dismiss your fear. “I’m just confused and angry with myself for not seeing the signs earlier,” he said honestly. “I almost lost you, and besides that, nothing else matters.” While he continued to stroke your cheek with one hand, he didn’t break eye contact with you for a moment. He needed you to know that he was sincere in what he was about to say. “Today has been an important day for me to realize some things.”

Thanks to the heat emitted by the camp flame, he could easily discern your facial features. Despite the weariness evident in your eyes, there was a twinkle that betrayed your curiosity about what he had to say. Leaning in a little more, he shifted his body closer to yours, positioning you between his legs as he sat leaning against a tree. With a gentle touch, he lowered his hand from your cheek to your chin, lifting it slightly to plant a small, tender kiss on your lips.

With his cold breath mingling with your warmth, he whispered softly, “I love you.”

Caught off guard, you gazed up at him with wide, teary eyes, a breath catching in your throat. As a tear traced a soft path down your cheek, Bi-Han gently caught it with the tip of his finger, his own eyes filled with concern. Then, with the warmest and most sincere smile he had ever seen, you planted a kiss on his cheek.

‘’I’ve dreamed of this a few times, but I never thought you would express it.’’

‘‘Is that why you’re crying? If you’re hiding the truth about your shoulder causing pain-’’

‘‘I’m crying with happiness, my love. Now give me one more kiss so that I can believe in you better.’’

Bi-Han couldn’t help the smile settling on his face.

‘’As you wish.’’

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adventuresofalgy · 12 days

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Algy leaned back on the soft tussocks of dry grass and heather at the back of his rocky perch and thought of all his human friends around the world, bustling and rushing about, and only too often haunted by the "gaunt presage of undone duties" in an "over-busy world".

With nothing much to do except contemplate the wonders of Nature and engage in the very pleasant task of sharing his adventures with all his wonderful friends, Algy realised that the life of a fluffy bird was indeed an unusually privileged one. Of course, not long ago he had allowed "the dreaming lapse of slow, unmeasured time" to prevail to such an extent that he had not only neglected his one delightful mission but had even failed to observe for himself the ever changing loveliness around him. And in a fluffy bird who had no other obligations, that was a fault indeed!

But Algy knew that his human friends had a multitude of responsibilities and commitments, worries and chores to shorten their hours and burden them with "alien moods", and he only hoped that in the midst of all those demands and concerns they could still find a time and a place for sufficient leisure to enjoy "wide-eyed delights and pleasures uncontrolled by shortening moments".

Algy sends you all lots of his fluffiest and most relaxing hugs 🤗

Leisure, thou goddess of a bygone age, When hours were long and days sufficed to hold Wide-eyed delights and pleasures uncontrolled By shortening moments, when no gaunt presage Of undone duties, modern heritage, Haunted our happy minds; must thou withhold Thy presence from this over-busy world, And bearing silence with thee disengage Our twined fortunes? Deeps of unhewn woods Alone can cherish thee, alone possess Thy quiet, teeming vigor. This our crime: Not to have worshipped, marred by alien moods That sole condition of all loveliness, The dreaming lapse of slow, unmeasured time.

[Algy is quoting the poem Leisure by the early 20th century American poet Amy Lowell.]

#Algy #photographers on tumblr #writers on tumblr #leisure #Scotland #scottish highlands #scottish landscape #relaxation #amy lowell #west highlands #poem #poetry #friends #time #fluffy bird #adventures of algy #original content #jenny chapman

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kentobb · 2 months

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hello everyone! i just want to say THANK YOU. yesterday we reached 500 followers and i couldn’t be grateful for y’all’s support. as a special thank you for every single one of you, i am dropping another series while publishing the bet and presage. but this time, you guys have the option to choose which one would you prefer. <3

you can vote here. (the voting process will last a week) <3

also theres a brief summary in each series. :)

Sleeper agent (gojo satoru x female reader x geto suguru)

In a world where trust is a luxury and secrets are currency, two elite secret agents uncover a shocking truth: their own organization, once seen as a force for good, is entangled in sinister deeds. Betrayed and outraged, they go rogue, vowing to bring down the corrupt institution. Amid the chaos, they rescue a brilliant and captivating secretary, who unknowingly holds the key to their mission. As danger looms and alliances shift, the agents realize their hidden feelings for her, igniting a passionate and perilous journey of love, betrayal, and redemption.

The grief ((nanami’s wife) widow! female reader x gojo satoru)

After the tragic death of your beloved husband, Nanami Kento, you find yourself pregnant and overwhelmed with grief. Gojo Satoru, Nanami’s best friend, steps in to support you through the heartache and the challenges of pregnancy. As he provides unwavering support, an unexpected bond forms between you, leading to a profound and heartfelt love story born from shared sorrow and new beginnings.

Remember me (nanami kento x bakerygirl! reader)

Working at a bustling bakery isn’t easy, but your days brighten whenever your favorite regular customer walks in for his usual order. Slowly, your daily interactions blossom into a heartfelt romance. Unbeknownst to you, he’s living a double life as a jujutsu sorcerer, facing dangers you could never imagine. As love grows between them, the secrets he keeps may either strengthen their bond or shatter their budding relationship. (this one is based on the manga itself… so you know how nanami ends…i’m just warning yall that this has pure angst).

#jjk #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk smut

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davosmymaster · 2 years

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The Saddest Part of Me

TAGS AND WARNINGS - +18, Minors DNI, no smut (yet) but mentions of sex/sexual themes, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, mention of past abusive/violent relationship, canon-typical violence, breaking-up, Jake is the fist of Khonshu, Marc and Steven don’t have the suit anymore, post-MoonKnight, my non-native English is a warning itself, no beta

PAIRINGS - Jake Lockley x fem!reader ; Marc Spector x fem!reader ; Steven Grant x fem!reader

WORD COUNT - 4.6k

SUMMARY - Tired of Jake’s missions turning deadly, Steven and Marc ask you for help. It backfires.

A/N - This started as first person pov, dont know exactly why but i liked it and went with it. Then it changed after one of the pauses and I was too tired to change it (also i like it as it is) so I didn’t. Don’t read if you are easily triggered. Credits to whoever made the gif. Part two will be up when it’s up.

THE SADDEST PART OF ME

Toni Morrison once wrote that "love is never any better than the lover". And as if that wasn't a horrible enough claim on its own, she followed with "wicked people love wickedly, violent people love violently, weak people love weakly, stupid people love stupidly."

I found myself called to those lines and, trapped by the words of a book that had me crying for most of it, I discovered I was more moved by that sentence than I had been for the rest of the novel. Trapped as I was, my mind rushed to find meaning beyond the words. I remembered past flings and failed relationships, abusive exes, and even friendships that hadn't worked. Finally, at last, my eye caught the shape of one of my boyfriends watching a cricket game on tv; as if I hadn't been aware that he was there, as if it was the first time I saw him. Truly, saw him.

Steven noticed, of course he did. He was always hyperaware of his surroundings and, unlike Marc, he didn't know how to be subtle about it. He leaned back on the sofa, almost melting against it, and looked in my direction with the most relaxed expression he had in weeks. There was one cute smile on his lips; eyes gleaming with comfort after a long week of work. He was finally spending time with his girlfriend, and the time felt valuable for both of us even if each was doing our own thing.

He must have seen something on my face, something buried and hurt perhaps, something I'm still not very sure of what it was; but something regardless, because his eyes switched off their glow as if someone had thrown a handful of sand over them. His smile trembled slightly, without him ever finding out, as if his body was understanding something he was not. A presage.

"You feeling alright, love?" he asked.

Even though I heard him loud and clear, felt his worry as my own in the way he looked at me; my brain did not seem to register. My mind was long gone, far away from there. I was looking at Steven but I had no problem with him. I was looking at his body. No, I was not, either. I was looking at the shell that contained the three men I was in love with. And I just happened to be looking at Steven because he was there —the wrong place at the wrong time— but who I was really looking for in those eyes, the person that deserved to be there at that moment, it wasn't Steven. It wasn't Marc, either.

It was Jake.

We'd just had the most terrible month in our relationship. Even though I'd like to say it only concerned Jake and I, it truly did not. Marc and Steven had their role in the problem too, even if it was well-intentioned in the end. Our argument seemed to be over, at least for now. But neither of us had apologized nor had we found a peaceful way out of our trouble.

No. Not at all.

It was over because we had both decided we loved each other more than the problem hurt us. Now we were ignoring both the problem still unresolved and the gap his lies had created between us.

Yes, Jake had lied to me. Repeteadly and over a long period of time. Problem was he didn't regret it at all. My mind had been trying not to think more about the matter, ignoring it, living happily in naivety. In my coping mechanism I was blind to the elephant in the room: Jake didn't regret his actions at all. He didn't regret killing those people and he sure as hell didn't regret lying to me about it.

That meant only one thing: he would kill again. That is, if he hadn't already.

As if he could read my mind Steven's frown deepened. He got closer, his hand closing the space that separated us. His thumb very slowly touched my cheek. It was so slow, so gentle, as if he was frightened himself of my stupor. Or even scared of me.

The slowness did not restrain my soul from shooting back into my body. The jump it caused could only be described as the sensation of falling from an imaginary abyss just as you are about to fall asleep.

It was right then when I realized Jake wasn't hidden there, in those eyes. It was just Steven. Only sweet and sincere Steven.

"You alright?" he asked, a worried chuckle dancing on his lips. "I lost you for a moment there, uh. In the land of the dreaming?"

I smiled, even if I couldn't quite remember how.

"Yeah, yeah... Sorry I scared you," I said, but still took his hands and put them away from me. All I could think about was those hands unfortunately being a part of Jake. Those pretty hands that belonged to Steven and Marc too, but which had been smeared with thick blood clotting around the nails. All I could see was them holding the gun Jake had been so reluctant to throw away, the small pocket knife he always wore as a key chain.

"Can I ask you something..." I said then, my words so fast my mind had barely registered them, my tone so devoid of life it sounded as if I was going to ask him to kill me. Maybe I was. "...Steven?"

I pronounced his name trying to breathe a bit of life into the sentence, but I could already tell by the way his breathing was caught in his lungs that he did not believe my facade for one split second.

He took my hand in his, the heat warming them but freezing my body at the same time. Those hands...

"Of course! Of course you can. Bloody hell, why do you even ask it like that?"

I smiled and, with my thumb, I massaged the deep frown between his eyebrows. He relaxed the muscles there, suddenly aware of his expression.

Half of me did it for him, because I was starting to feel guilty for worrying him. Half of me did it because my hands felt trapped under his.

Steven relaxed, smiling once again. Partially relieved.

"Are Marc or Jake listening?"

Steven seemed confused at the question at first. He fixed his eyes on my own, but at the same time very far away from there. Then he looked around: at the tv, at any nearby mirrors, even his mug and the tea in it.

"No, they aren't," he said. "But I can look for them, wake them up, if you want me to."

"No, no. I just wanted to talk to you for a second."

Steven tilted his head to one side slightly, confused.

"Oh, oh. Sure, love."

That's when my turn of taking his hands in mine came. It was the only way in which I could feel safe in both my question and his answer, in the truth of them, actually. I had never once before questioned Steven. I had blind faith in him, I always had. But as I said, what should have stayed as a Jake and me problem, had somehow tainted Steven and Marc too. Up until this point I had firmly believed I distinguished every single one of them from the others, and treated them accordingly; but now my body was showing me that, in fact, a part of me saw all of them as the same man.

"If Jake hurt anyone again, you would tell me right away. Right?"

His eyes shot open. From where I was seating in front of him I could almost hear his heartbeats.

"Of course! Of course I would. Marc would too. We did it before, right?"

"Eventually, yeah. After hiding it for months," the tinge of disgust in my voice did not go unnoticed.

His hands were now trembling.

"We didn't know what to do! At first we didn't even notice it was something that would affect us. Then I told them. And neither of them listened. We did tell you about Khonshu and we thought it was... implied. But Jake never wanted to kill...!"

"Okay, okay. Steven. Steven look at me," I said, as he kept talking and talking in a panicked state. "Look at me, okay? You said sorry. Marc, you and I talked about this. It's okay. You said sorry. You're forgiven."

He stopped talking, pressed his cheek against my hand when I tried to comfort him. He nodded as if trying to absorb my words. But his pupils still jumped slightly, here and there. Restless, unsafe.

"I would tell you," he finally said with a tiny voice. His eyes welled with tears. "I promise. I promise I would. Please don't go."

He made me cry too. Almost jumping over him, I hugged him, pretty much estranged him with my arms. I clung to the sweater he was wearing as if holding on for dear life. Steven followed with no less force. He crushed me against his chest, breathing hard into my hair, silently crying. With hands wide open over my whole back, it felt as if he was both trying to memorize the feeling of me in his arms and, holding me in place so I wouldn't abandon him.

"Why do I feel like you're gonna leave?" he whispered.

Steven had very little power of the matter, and that fact terrified him beyond reason. He couldn't stop Jake from killing again. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing your disgusted, disappointed, crying face again. But if there was something he could not even think about, that was you breaking up with them, leaving them, hating them. He could not conceive the world without you being the first thing he saw in the morning. He could not go back to be and feel as lonely as he did before. He couldn't.

Being in this impossible situation, anxiety rising up to the clouds, the only comforting thought he could get was that, if he behaved, if he was good, despite what Jake could do, if he was good and behaved like you wanted him to, then you wouldn't abandon him. You might abandon Jake for being a murderer, but if he proved himself... then you wouldnt —couldn't— leave him.

In his mind, he is ten years old and doing the dishes at two in the morning so mom will kiss him goodnight.

Stupid people love stupidly

Regaining someone's trust is not an easy task, everyone says that, but no one talks about how complicated it is to regain intimacy with the other person.

It's not about sexual intimacy. That's easy, perhaps too easy. And Jake makes it even easier; he knows what buttons to push, where and when to touch you so you're left wanting more, pursuing him yourself against your own judgement. It's the other intimacy that is difficult to get back, the type in which you start talking about life and don't finish until dawn. It's about the cuddles, the feeling of being comfortable around each other, planning stuff to do together because you don't want to —not even think about— doing it with anyone else. Before Marc and Steven told you what Jake had done, asking you to help him stop, it wasn't uncommon for you and Jake to dance around the kitchen while cooking; both slow and quick Latin songs playing through the speakers. He loved to dance bachata, you loved to see him happy.

Now your home is silent, the closeness complicated. The kitchen doesn't smell like spices anymore, and even the flat seems to have become darker. Maybe London has become darker, maybe the entire world has shunned the sun.

Jake promises one day that he will never do it again. He waits for you to be in bed and slides under the covers. For a long time, he says nothing; he's still hesitating. Jake isn't sure he can keep this promise he is about to make. After all, he doesn't kill people because he likes it; he does it because they are necessary.

Eventually, when he feels your breathing evening out, he knows if he doesn't do it you will never trust him again. And so he does it; unsure and scared, but is anyone ever not unsure and scared? he asks himself.

You hug him tight then. It's the closest he's felt to you in a month. He's missed you more than he dares to admit. So he buries his hands in you, in your hair, your back, your shoulders, the back of your thighs. He doesn't want to let go. All he wants is for time to stop. If he could choose where to live for the rest of his life, he would live in the exact spot between your jaw and neck that his nose is caressing just now. He would die there, too.

You're the only good thing in his life. Everyone knows that.

Suddenly a month has passed, a more than reasonable amount of time for you to start letting your guard down. Jake has been so patient and careful that you start to feel like a fool for creating this awkward space between the two of you; although the truth is, it's not your fault.

There are only fifteen days to your anniversary, or at least the start of it, as each of the boys takes an entire day to celebrate it with you. That makes your anniversary a weekend-long thing. With your anniversary so close, you feel an overwhelming sensation of hopelessness. And in the midst of your nostalgia for what you were, and loathing what you've become, you ask Jake to forget anything ever happened. He complies.

The following is your day off, but Jake has work in the evening. Still, that doesn't stop him from scheduling a date. He takes you out for brunch to the most beautiful restaurant you've ever seen. You are seated on the inner patio. There is a fountain there, and the decoration is Bukowski books on small shelves and flowering vines on the walls.

You sit on a pallet drilled into the wall. It has beautiful rainbow-coloured cushions to sit on. Jake takes the chair in front of you, but he's too far away for your liking. Instead, you take his arm and ask him to sit a bit closer. Jake takes the seat next to you, not even his flat cap concealing the happiness glowing in his eyes. As he sits down, as if by a reflex, he puts one of his hands on your thigh. He caresses your knee for a few seconds before taking the menu and placing it in front of you to decide what you both will be having, together.

Two hours later both of you are taking a walk in Hyde Park. It's January, but the sun is shining over your heads anyway. Jake has never been one to be affectionate in public, but now he has his arm around your shoulders as you walk. Your face hurts from laughing and smiling. This is exactly what you missed, just what you needed. It all gets worse when, just before you leave, a squirrel chases Jake across the parking lot.

Jake drives you home, he drives slowly through London because he doesn't want to let you go. He doesn't want today to end. He stops the car at the beginning of the street because there's a street market today and he can't get through. He stops the car there, double-parked because it is impossible to park anywhere else in the city. He gets out of his limousine at the same time you do. With a quick, determined step he circles the limousine, and you wonder what the hell he's doing. Then, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. His lips brush yours, it's barely a caress until it's not. All you feel is him, his love, his warmth, the fabric of his driving gloves on your cheeks.

"Thank you," he whispers.

It feels like an I love you, so you take it that way.

Unfortunately, the honeymoon phase lasted just one more day.

He had no other choice, he wouldn't have ever risked another fight with you if he had the option not to. In fact, it was an accident. The fault wasn't entirely his. Yet Jake was so scared that you could see what he had done in his eyes, through his soul, that he drove to the other end of London and fell asleep in the back of the limo, on the plain floor.

Steven had panicked so much that his consciousness disconnected. He was nowhere to be found. Marc, on the other hand, was going through all five stages of grief. He had gone from calling him every single insult in the English language to denying that Jake had done anything. By the time Jake decided to get back home, Marc was in full depression stage. Thinking of the worst.

Even if he wanted to shut down the way his alters were doing, he couldn't. Jake cared for the others to an obsessive extent. All his life, he had taken the hard punches. He had killed so the others wouldn't have to, he had taken his mother's beatings with not a single tear shed, he took insults and humilliations; he took Elias' calls begging Marc to come back home when he ran away, he took the hardest parts of military training and most life-or-death situations that followed.

He took Khonshu. He was still taking Khonshu.

Marc and Steven had enough of the god, but someone had to do the work anyways. After all, the pigeon had only freed the other two. And if Moon Knight and Mr Knight wouldn't fight, then Jake Lockley would have to do. Someone had to protect the travellers of the night, that's what Khonshu had said when Jake asked him to free him as well.

He was still debating what to do, whether to keep it from you or not, when Steven made the decision for him.

"Jake," he spoke, appearing out of nowhere. "If you don't tell her yourself, I will."

He grabbed the steering wheel tight. He saw red for a split second, then focused on the road ahead.

"What?" he almost barked.

"You heard me."

"Si será hijueputa- Who do you think you are?"

Steven said nothing else despite Jake's attempts to provoke him. His silence only made him even more nervous. He insulted him for twenty minutes, called him things he didn't really mean, until eventually, he stopped.

"Okay, Steven, have it your way," he said. "Just give me some time to think how."

"You have an hour."

The image Jake formed on his mind was nowhere close to the moments following his confession. Yet it was somehow even worse. The smile from your face vanished quickly into a thin line, your eye became dull, absorbed by something far away from there. Whatever you were thinking, whatever images were playing inside your brain, he just hoped it wasn't him covered in blood.

Your sight was lost somewhere on the small dots that covered the kitchen table, round wounds in the wood like gunshots. Your index flew to one of them, rubbing your fingertips against it for a few seconds, then giving up and lifting your head to look at him again. Crossing your arms over your chest as if you were cold.

"What do you expect me to do now?" you asked. If death had a voice, Jake was certain it would sound like yours. "You promis-."

"I know," he said. He inhaled oxygen, but seemed to exhale despair. He moved quickly from where he was standing at the other end of the table. With a squeak he took the chair right next to you and sat down. "I don't expect you to forgive me, but I had to-"

"You had to." you spat. "Was someone pointing a gun to your head?"

"Actually, yeah..." he responded, lips pressed as not to laugh. He forgot to mention he was also caught by the throat, until the other guy pulled the trigger and Jake moved his attacker's head in the trajectory of the bullet. "But I don't think that changes anything, does it?"

He saw what he thought was doubt in your eyes. Although he could have easily have mistaken it for the misery drowning your pupils. Deep down —perhaps not so deep— Jake couldn't understand why you cared so much for these people. Sure, he didn't like to have other people's blood on his hands, but at the end of the day many of them deserved to be dead. Jake wasn't getting why there was so much fuss about the matter. All he cared about was you, though. And if you cared, that made the matter grow in importance. He didn't care about hurting his enemies the same way he didn't care if he found a wallet on the street and didn't return it; sure, it wasn't ideal, but it was their loss, not his.

He took your hand the same way you had once done with Steven. He tried to comfort you somehow. Jake wasn't good with words. In fact, he didn't think he were any good with anything except his job, his work for Khonshu, and fucking your brains out. He had never had the need to protec anyone who didn't already live in his body; but he cared about you too much, and didn't want you to suffer.

Then, you took your eyes out of his fingers warming your cold ones. With the same expression and voice but dry eyes, you spoke

"I think we need to break up."

Jake blinked a few times, nodded, too; but his mind had not caught up on the words. He looked at your eyes again, confused by your pitied expression.

Then he chuckled, lips tightly closed.

"What?"

"I said..." a shaky breath came out of your mouth. "I said I... we need to break up."

Jake felt his chest and throat close up, the bile still rising to his mouth somehow. He coughed once, when he felt the acid burning its path, then rose up from the chair, swallowed. When he got to the window, he realized he was shaking. A hand tugged from the roots of his hair.

"¿Qué dijiste?" he asked, turning around to look at you. He looked at his reflexion in a mirror right next to his face, found his own face, not a trace of the others, but asked them anyway. "¿Qué dijo la pendejita esta?"

Rage was quickly starting to burn up in his veins. Slowly, as not to scare him further, you walked closer.

"I'm sorry, Jake," you told him, now your own eyes welling with tears. His arms wanted to take you, hold you, tell you everything is going to be fine; but you were only crying because you were hurting him. And you know it. And you know it. And he hates it.

"Don't fucking-" he said, although he doesn't even know where the sentence is going. His body was not reacting to his command, not even breathing properly. He doesn't understand why his mouth tastes bitter, or why you're trying to hurt him saying that.

He touched his face because there was something there bothering him. Dust, maybe a particle of something, an eyelash stuck in his eye, whatever. But when he touches it, his finger are wet.

Oh, a tear.

Before your body could make contact with his he held both your arms to stop you, his fingers curled around your forearms, your eyes filled with tears only half shed.

"You can't," he said, then chuckled again like a madman. "You could never."

He was so sure, too sure, there was not an ounce of doubt in his mind. He seemed so certain that his back straightened, his breathing evened out. He seemed calmed and it confused you. Were you driving him mad?

"You can't," he repeated, halfway to a chuckle again. "You could never break up with the others, you love them way too much."

His claim broke your own heart. The only reason Jake had for believing you would stay with him through thick and thin, was because he believed you wanted the others too much. The pieces of your heart crashed, splinters flew away, you could no longer feel it beating. You ached for him, but that didn't change anything.

"Jake I'm not breaking up with the others," you said, and regretted there was not a kinder way of doing it. "I'm breaking up with you."

He thought he heard a relieved breath then, and he lost it, completely lost it. It could have been the air coming in through the partially opened window, it could have been the tv still on, or even the kettle still complaining as the water cooled off. But he lost it all the same, not even knowing if the sound had come from Steven and Marc in the headspace or something entirely different. He took the mirror next to him and punched it, hard. The splinters covered his knuckles, blood rushed through the wounds to the to the rhythm of his heart.

Violent people love violently.

"Putos cabrones," he insulted them, but his tone was softer that he meant, breathy even.

"Jake, baby... don't."

He let you touch him this time. You kept still crying and he hated it. As his concern for you grew, so did his hatred. Your cold hands held both his cheeks, your lips pressed against his forehead just once. The blood staining his white shirt, his whole uniform. He had never gotten it ripped or even stained in a fight, and he was partially embarrassed that the first time he got it stained was because of his own blood, his own wounds.

You kept saying things, words that he supposed should sound comforting. But he was not listening, not at all.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he whispered, then his knees gave up under him. "I trusted you. I trusted you."

"I can't." you told him, begging him to understand. "I had a relationship before, one where he would tell me he was going to change, promise me, and then go back to treating me the same, and I forgave him. And he would do the same thing to me again. And I forgave him. I can't go through that again, baby. Not again. Not with you."

Jake wanted to scream. He wanted to ask you why you could be patient with others but had not the same patience for him. But he didn't. He stayed silent. He knew such a question would hurt you. Countless times had he hold you while you cried for your past, for how others had mistreated you. The thought that he had done the same was burying him alive. He wanted to melt, pass through the wooden planks on the floor, fall until he reached the barren land, then be swallowed by dirt itself; become nothing.

He wiped the tears from his face, leaving a bloody trail wherever his fingers touched. You blinked in front of him a few times, shaky lips he wanted to kiss saying goodbye gave him, instead, a bit of hope.

"Violence is easy, Jake, it's the easy path," you told him. "I can't- I won't be with another violent man. If you show me you can change, I promise you'll have me forever."

He nodded. He had a mission now.

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#jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #oscar isaac x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lokley #moon knight x you #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant #marc spector x female reader

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thefirstknife · 1 year

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Interesting info from today's TWAB (it will never be TWID to me) about the Veil Log quest!

Veil Containment will continue being unlocked for the remaining three weeks of Season 21, and additional entries will unlock at the start of Season 22 and Season 23.

We have three more entries until the end of the season and then two more: 1 at the start of season 22 and 1 at the start of season 23. That will be a super painful wait. I can't imagine what this last entry could possibly be that it would be such a delayed tease.

The narrative team also acknowledged that they made the quest a little too secretive by trying to turn it into something players would have discover for themselves:

Narrative Team: The Veil Containment repeatable activity continues to tell the story of Neomuna’s history with the Veil as introduced in Lightfall. If you haven’t checked in with Osiris and Nimbus yet, you might not be alone. In wanting Veil Containment to be something discoverable, we went a little too far in one direction and made the activity hard to find, even for the lore-hounds interested in digging more into the Veil. (A lesson learned for any future content of this sort!)

And the rest of the stuff on the quest is soooo juicy and I believe they nailed the vibe they intended perfectly.

Writing the story of Veil Containment was an opportunity to dig into the cosmic horror side of Destiny. Creating the encrypted records of Ishtar Scientist Chioma Esi as she and her wife researched an alien force was a chance to bring the essence of things like the SCP Foundation and creepy podcasts like the Magnus Archives into Destiny.

Movies like Altered States and 2001 a Space Odyssey helped inform the tone of the messages you uncovered, all of which are underlined by the emotional story of Chioma Esi and Maya Sundaresh’s lives unraveling in the aftermath of the Collapse and their contact with the Veil. We’ve even seen some keen-eyed players noticing similarities between what Maya attempts with the Veil to what the Witness did in sacrificing its own people, and even what Calus did with the Crown of Sorrows and a pack of Scorn. Those threads and thematic recurrence are intentional guidelines anchoring us to related moments in the past, and help the curious delve into the deeper lore armed with a fistful of useful citations.

The bolded bit is really good! It's something that we've been discussing a lot. I haven't directly mentioned Presage much recently, but it's been on my mind too and I'm super excited to revisit it next season when it returns.

Another source of inspiration during the creation of Veil Containment was the relation between an outside observer and the concept of the Winnower mentioned in the Books of Sorrow. We wanted to explore the relationships people experience to cosmic, otherworldly forces beyond their understanding and how it tears both their own moral foundations and sense of self apart at the seams. As we’ve discovered with Osiris and Nimbus over the past few weeks, the Veil is a cosmic collective consciousness, a psychic network that spreads like a mycelial network through the universe. There’s intentional visual and thematic connections to Egregore there. But also, an allusion to the famous scene in Lord of the Rings where Gandalf warns Saruman about using the Palantir. “You don’t know who else may be watching.”

I assume it should say "Unveiling" instead of Books of Sorrow. Other than that, this is absolutely my fave. That last line gave me legitimate chills. The connections with egregore are important as well and I'm sure we'll get more mentions of that in the future. Again, Presage was our first real exposure to egregore so I'm happy to return next season. Technically, our first exposure to egregore was the Derelict, Drifter's ship, but it wasn't until Presage that egregore was identified and named (and deliberately connected to the same entity that we've previously seen on the Derelict). Really good summary of egregore lore if you want to dig a little! Also throwback to the (I think) first time I mentioned the explanation for egregore, back in February 2021 when Presage was hot off the press. Actually staggering to me right now that this was 2 years before Lightfall's heavy theme of collective consciousness and merging of minds and they already dropped hints to it back then. Wild stuff. Also take a look at Bungie's dive into making Presage (spoilers obviously for those that never played it).

Capturing that sense of foreboding unknown is a staple of cosmic horror. The moment where you realize that your role in the universe is a small one, that the universe itself may be uncaring, and things lurk in it that you have been blissfully unaware of. As our cast is pushed through these harrowing experiences, it also sets the stage for the future in The Final Shape and beyond.

So true bestie. I am absolutely thriving with this lore and development. Cosmic horror is literally the only thing that matters to me and the sheer scale of how this is presented in Destiny with the Veil, Veil Logs, the Witness and its origins and everything around that has been the best thing in Destiny lore for me tbh. I've always been most interested in researching Darkness and this exploration of it as a cosmic force of consciousness that drives people to incomprehensible actions and spreads like a mycelium network is an absolute blast.

#destiny 2 #the veil #veil log #egregore #presage mission #long post #seriously can't wait to play presage again #that is quite literally and with no exaggeration my favourite thing I've ever experienced in destiny #if you haven't done it and don't know much about it wait and go into it blind #the similarities between presage and veil logs and the connecting threads between them are soooo good

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dreamingriven · 9 months

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guardians be like this is my emotional support exotic mission and then it's presage.

#destiny 2 #d2 #presage #text #i almost forgor that it was presage week <3 <3

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ajlockwood · 2 years

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I love how stroud created a sort of tied ending for the books and symbolised the development of lockwood and lucy’s relationship through necklaces. each one of them is a physical representation of the feelings blossoming between them, and since neither of them is emotionally able to put these feelings into words, I wrote a very tiresome 1700-word essay about that

[WARNING: major spoilers for all five books + the netflix show]

the first necklace is annie ward’s, in the screaming staircase. it’s a locket, a materialisation of a tumultuous love between two people, a toxic passion that leads to tragedy. extreme jealousy led to the loved one’s death. this necklace is a kind of presage of what’s to come in the next books, because from the moment lucy meets annie, she feels a sort of connection to her – that beautiful metaphorical image of lucy and annie underwater in the show speaks for itself – and this will also be reflected on her own romantic story.

this quote was a foreshadowing all along, but we only realise that much further. stroud suggested the importance of the necklaces given as gifts throughout the story – and their romantic meaning that should not be overlooked. (plus keep in mind george’s implication that lucy doesn’t know anything about love. it’s important, I promise).

[in the netflix show, this connection between annie’s relationship with fairfax and lucy’s with lockwood is foreseen when lucy relives annie’s last moments. she begins to caress a conflicted lockwood as if he were her lover, and this moment made it even clearer that even though both relationships were very different, they are correspondent. plus, the locket was replaced by a ring, and they also added a ring on lockwood’s finger. coincidence? I think not. but keep reading, I’ll elaborate on that later.]

the second necklace is a gift from lockwood to lucy in the whispering skull, and is the first one directly connected to their relationship. this necklace is made of silver, meaning purity, healing, patience, perseverance, balance, peace. the diamond too is a symbol of purity, commitment and faithfulness. in short, this is the first material implication that a healthy and easy affection is growing between them. even if it’s for the sake of a case, they’re going to a party, and all is well.

however, here I remind of george’s quote about lucy not knowing anything about love – though I wouldn’t say she’s ignorant, but more like unaware of it. lockwood is also unaware of it. the whole point of locklyle being so good is that they’re unaware of their affection’s depth for 70% of the story even though it’s so OBVIOUS. they’re young, and they work too much – lockwood’s life had been his job until then –, so much that what could have been a lovely moment with his gift is quickly dismissed in the book because they have a mission. so they don’t really have the time and mental health to dwell on it. we don’t have lockwood’s pov in the books (shoutout to mr stroud), and lucy knows she feels something for lockwood but denies it – though later we find that she preferred to keep wearing the necklace full-time.

[the show also made a really important addition by showing lockwood entering jessica’s room to fetch the necklace, an indication that his love for lucy is making him have to face his trauma. and the moment when he gives lucy the necklace was much more meaningful: it was right after lucy had told him for the first time about norrie. he wanted to tell her about jessica as well, but he hesitates – he says, “it belonged to… someone I was very close to.” he wants to open up to her, although he’s still not ready to do so. jessica’s door being opened by the end of the book/season is obviously a metaphor for the door to his inner self, and just when he is ready to at least try leaving a crack for lucy to enter, stroud wrote the next book.]

the hollow boy is where everything begins to falter. lucy still wears the necklace – as skull points out right at the beginning – and she even uses it to save them during a mission, but it’s the last time we see it. in fact, the very last time it’s mentioned is a scene where lucy is watching lockwood fondly; she touches her necklace out of reflex, and then he makes the decision that (as he will think later) ruined it all: to hire a new agent.

holly’s arrival is conflictuous for various reasons, notably MISCOMMUNICATION and JEALOUSY. remember what I said about annie’s necklace being a presage? yes, the prophecy is fulfilled! these two aspects almost led to lockwood and lucy’s ruin. however, in the end it wasn’t jealously that made them part, but very ironically it was their love. the “come off it, lucy, you know I’d die for you” was one more of lockwood’s not-so-subtle occasional demonstrations of how much he cared about her, but given the context, lucy was scared. because for the first time she realised lockwood really was committed to her, in his own way. the silver necklace was forgotten: their affection (which had been easy before) became heavy on lucy’s heart and conscience. she didn’t want his commitment like that. so she left, hoping that it would make it go away – and with that, leaving a hole in lockwood’s heart.

the creeping shadow tells us that their departure made it worse for both. and amusingly, even though this is one of the books with most deepening on locklyle, it’s the only one without a single quote from any necklace. why? because they’re confused. everything to them is nebulous and indistinct regarding the other. for the first time they’re beginning to acknowledge the fact they love each other, as they feel the effects of it directly on their skin, but they simply don’t have a proper conversation so they don’t know what the other is really thinking. lucy missed lockwood and co more than she would care to admit; she wanted to keep in touch with them, even if she was away for a good cause, but lockwood didn't make himself reachable in a way that wouldn't suggest his wish of her backing down from her decision. he fortified his walls again and became obsessed with a plan of getting her back no matter what, and only then he’d think of how he could earn her affection. I like to think that lockwood only realised he truly loved lucy in her absence; I imagine him lying awake at dawn repassing every conversation, every moment (especially the argument at the cafe); wondering when did it all begin to crumble and when was it he got so inattentive to her, sinking into new cases to run away from these feelings and to ironically have an illusion of self-control (add that to his trauma and consequent perspective that everyone he’s ever loved is taken from him). and somehow lucy is even more oblivious than him, so this moment is one of confusion and maybe even self-discovery for them. as a rule I wouldn’t gift someone a piece of jewelry meaning “hey so I’m a mess rn I kinda like u but idk? anyways lol let’s go to work”, therefore the lack of promises or anything like it. but when lucy comes back – and lockwood reaches the goal he had been planning all winter for – they are not the same anymore. their feelings didn’t change: they matured into something they still cannot name, but a lot more tangible than before.

at last comes the empty grave. after everything they’ve been through (see literally going to hell and back), though they haven’t officialy settled what they are to each other now, it’s clear to both of them that they’re not only coworkers, or simply friends. the shared trauma made them even closer than they were before, as lucy states here:

and this same shared trauma made lucy – with her self-consciousness and all that – doubt even more if lockwood truly loved her, or if it was something else. it’s fair; they hadn’t been on good terms for a while, he suddenly appeared on her doorstep again and then they nearly died together, now all of the sudden they couldn’t be apart?

of course their relationship would never be the same again, but all this situation just reinforced whatever affection they already had before. for once, lockwood was finally allowing himself a few moments of vulnerability around lucy (like when he showed her his family’s grave, or in that scene of quiet solace when he allows her to sit beside him in the library and he shares his theory about who killed his parents); but as stroud himself has said, “lockwood is a nightmare”, he never talks openly about his feelings.

so what does he do to declare that his love is true, tangible, eternal and devotional?

he gives her a necklace. again.

but this time, the act carries much more depth than before with the silver necklace, of which we don’t know much about in the books. because while that one was a reminder of someone dear to him, this one has its own story, a story that really touches lockwood inside. it represents his parents’ love, seen by him and his sister as an example since their childhoods. his father gave it to his mother as a symbol of his undying devotion. gold represents happiness, peace, stability – something lockwood and lucy did not have by the time he first tried to give her the necklace, since portland row was about to be attacked (and that’s why they were interrupted by kipps), while the last part of the book (paradoxically called “the beginning”) was the perfect moment to do so. the sapphire summarises everything lockwood wants to say out loud, but never does: it brings serenity and peace of mind, symbolises truth, restoration of balance, celestial hope, holiness and connection to the heavens.

this is lockwood's conception of the apex of love, and he is sharing it with lucy because she is the one that completes him, that makes his days have a meaning, the one with whom he wants to spend the rest of his life with. after five books, he is certain she is the one for him – and has always been. even when they didn’t know so.

and even after all this, lockwood doesn’t say it out loud, for fear of being rejected again. this moment is too important for him (he’s even put on his new coat I mean, honestly, just for a stroll?? he wanted to look good for her), and he didn’t want to ruin it. he hesitates, leaves the necklace there for lucy to find. rather than force her hand or try to influence her, as he had done before, he gives her a free choice. she can go for that stroll with him if she wants. she can also not go, if that’s what she wishes. if she wants the necklace, if she accepts him and his love, it will be her choice. he’s practically on his knees, begging her to say yes and accept him; he needs her, but he doesn’t want to impose himself on her: he wants her to choose him voluntarily. the necklace is a silent question. a proposal. and even though it took lucy the whole book, the whole series to realise that this love was real and mutual, she is ready. it’s not with hesitation that she says yes to him twice.

[and remember lockwood’s ring? the books begin and end with a necklace – tied ending! – and my theory is that the show might have intended on doing so as well. it all started with a ring and it would end with one, but a ring is a lot more clearer to read through the lens of romance. as of now, the show is constantly focusing on subtle hand touches – pride and prejudice fans howling –, which I found a rather suggestive detail, and at some point by the end, he would take it off his finger and put it into hers, an explicit exchange of vows, and my heart that has survived of only crumbs from jonathan until now found this change brilliant.]

so yeah, this is just one of the hundred reasons why I consider locklyle to be one of the deepest relationships ever written. good night, listeners, good night

#locklyle #lockwood and co #only now I realised how much I dissociated while writing this #I love overnalysing #and this is why I need to see all of this unraveling on screen #every single detail is of such importance and they have the capacity to make locklyle’s development *glorious*#when lucy leaves lockwood and co in the hollow boy? it will be double painful to watch #lockwood succeeded the first time he tried to convince her to stay but the second attempt will break him apart #and I think daily about cameron chapman saying he wanted to see lockwood struggling a bit more #and the ring the ring the RING #they are my joker #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #l&co. netflix #l&co spoilers #btw sorry for my english

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