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addie-bx · 2 years

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The Archer by Taylor Swift

This is my own personal interpretation of the song

This song perfectly captures what it is like to have a mental breakdown in the form of a song. Not only through the instrumentals but in a perfect combination with the lyrics. Mental health issues don't just start and end and you're better again. It's a tug of war in your mind that goes and goes and goes until the last seam of the rope snaps. And suddenly you're spiraling.

Combat, I'm ready for combat

I say I don't want that, but what if I do?

Always ready for confrontation, always ready to have to fight every millisecond of your life. You say you're tired and you don't want to survive like this but, it's all you've ever known. If given the chance to live any other way would you really give it up? Are you willing to take that step? Change your path and the way you travel it? Are you brave enough to let it all go? What if you enjoy the chaos? What then? Is there something wrong with you that you can't bare to leave the chaos behind? What does that make you? What does that mean for you?

'Cause cruelty wins in the movies

I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

The strong survive. They never show weakness. They don't wear their hearts on their sleeves. They hide behind sharp tongues and venomous stares. They have nothing to lose so they always win. Trying to conform to those standards has cost you more than your sanity they've cost you yourself, and they've cost you your person one too many times. You never show them how much you truly care. You never let those three little words leave your lips with meaning. To bare your heart and soul as they have for you is not something you can do. Not yet. It's all just crumpled words laying across your floor. All the words you can't say haunting you as you lay facing the sky, all the words you wish you never said echoing in your mind. Wondering if cruelty wins outside the movies too.

Easy they come, easy they go

I jump from the train, I ride off alone

People come and go out of your life like a revolving door. It takes no effort to enter your life and they have no qualms about leaving. You ride in on your own at every new destination in your life, with no one by your side. At every milestone, you look in the mirror of your life to see no one there to celebrate with, just you and your cracked reflection.

I never grew up, it's getting so old

Help me hold onto you

Missing out on childhood and adolescent experiences. All those years pass you by as you're frozen in time as everyone grows and matures around you as you're stuck; the same person you've always been in the same fucked situation hoping those you love don't leave you in the past, don't grow up without you. Your mind is in a battle, wanting them to stay frozen with you in your bubble of happiness but you can't stand the idea of holding them back. You want them to take you with them, never dropping your hand as you go.

I've been the archer

I've been the prey

You've been beaten and bruised. You've been broken down until the shell of a person you see in the mirror is a bloody unrecognizable corpse. You've been the person to throw the first punch and the final blow. You've let your words shoot like arrows dipped in venom, shooting to kill. You've been on both sides of the line never knowing where you truly reside.

Who could ever leave me, darling?

But who could stay?

Not understanding why someone would just up and walk away as if everything you've built means nothing. But also never expecting someone to stay, no one ever has before. Saving yourself the disappointment by not allowing yourself to have hope in a person.

Dark side, I search for your dark side

This person seems too good to be true. You're waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for them to reveal their malevolent desires. They're too good to be real; counting fingers to make sure you aren't dreaming. Convinced you'd be naive to stop searching.

But what if I'm alright, right, right, right here?

They may be hiding your dark intentions but fuck it. You finally feel alright, right here with them. Despite all your fears and doubts right here, right now with their hand in yours, you're alright.

Repetition of 'right' symbolizes the need to remind yourself over and over again this is right and that you are alright and they are alright and together you are alright.

And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

An expression often used to describe how a person will harm themselves in the process of hurting others. Going to extreme heights to inflict pain on someone despite it being just as if not more painful for you just to prove a point to yourself and others.

Then I hate my reflection for years and years

All the decisions you've made, and the path you've taken have led you to become someone you don't even like. In the end, the spite, and the pride you held weren't worth it, but will you ever admit that to anyone but your own reflection?

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost

The room is on fire, invisible smoke

The panic seeps in. Everything that's been building has finally tumbled down. You've finally snapped. You can't hold back anymore. you panic. Sleep evades you, leaves you keyed up and restless going over everything wrong and every mistake. you panic. You can't breathe. When you try you choke and cough and scream and cry. It's not enough. There's not enough air. It feels never-ending. you panic. The dreams, the thoughts, the smoke, none of it is real. But the panic is.

And all of my heroes die all alone

Help me hold onto you

Following the prophecy of those before you. Seeing the people you look up to succumb to humanity's worst fear. Being alone at the end of it all. As human beings, we are social creatures, we need each other. Being alone for too long would drive anyone mad. It's driven you mad. In times of fear, we become desperate. Desperate enough to beg, to plead with them to stay. To not give up on you even when you give up on yourself. Especially when you give up on yourself.

I've been the archer,

I've been the prey

Screaming, who could ever leave me, darling?

But who could stay?

After the panic comes the breakdown among your shattered pieces.

'Cause they see right through me

They see right through me

They see right through

Can you see right through me?

They see right through

They see right through me

I see right through me

This. This is what is going through your mind as you break down and you cry into your knees. Trying to hold yourself together while you're shattering. The echoes and the repetition as the words get louder and louder in this part of the song truly make you feel like you are experiencing an anxiety attack.

All the king's horses, all the king's men

Couldn't put me together again

'Cause all of my enemies started out friends

The people you've allowed entrance into your life, who you've given your trust to. Giving them the power to dismantle your faith and trust into millions of glittering pieces of what once was pure unadulterated love. No matter how hard you try you can't fix what is shattered. You move on. Leaving the pieces in the middle of the road as you walk a new path.

Help me hold onto you

I've been the archer

I've been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling?

But who could stay? And who could stay?

Who could stay?

You could stay.

Combat, I'm ready for combat

You lay in the wake of destruction that is your own mind. The alarms sound. Time to get up. time to go to work. Shower, get dressed, and grab your keys. You sit in the driver's seat. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the rearview mirror. You school your features, wall slams down behind your eyes protecting your mind once more as you brace yourself to fight another day. And so the cycle continues.

#taylor swift #lover #The archer #writer #lyrical analysis #music #songs

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

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Why Couldn’t it Have Been Me?

Part 2

Paring: Wilbur Soot x reader (past), Ghostbur x reader

Disclaimer: This contains major spoilers for Tommyinnit’s 4/29 lore stream

Warnings: swearing, violence, death, near death, cheating, 4/29 lore stream, grief, blood, injury, panic attack

Word count: 6,737

(A/N): So in this, you’re Schlatt’s twin and Puffy’s your older sister. Also, sorry for any mistakes, I typed a good 2/3 of this on my phone

This was your own personal hell: being trapped within cement walls with your ex fiance, your asshole of a brother, and a Dream wannabe that seemed to never lose any energy. Your life was like a trope in a novel alive you would’ve liked, however being cursed to live in it made you absolutely loathe any and all mention of it.

Alive you would’ve killed to hang out with your brother again, not the one that turned to the bottle. Alive you would’ve craved the sweet melodies that streamed from Wilbur’s mouth. You would’ve swooned and maybe, just maybe, you would’ve forgiven him. Alive you would’ve perhaps liked this ‘Mexican Dream’ guy, you would’ve perhaps become the best of friends.

However you despised the three locked up with you with your whole heart.

Your ex fiance was someone you adored. Hell, you even idolized him when you were alive. The Wilbur you knew was sweet, loving, attentive, and just all around someone that you swooned over. You could still remember how your heart exploded when he first asked you out under the setting sun by the ocean. You remembered every song he's written for you, every word and rhythm by heart, even after all these years.

You remembered how you felt your heart completely shatter when you found the songs he had in his drafts for someone that wasn't you. Someone by the name of 'Sally'. After a heated argument you had broken up with him, taking the engagement ring off from your finger and throwing it deep into the ocean. You stayed on L'Manberg's side even after all that, too loyal and proud towards the country you helped forge to drop it. You wouldn't let some stupid boy or rabid tyrants prevent you from raising your beautiful nation up from the ashes.

That had been your downfall. You should've listened to Puffy and left the country behind when you had the chance, now you paid the ultimate price for your deep rooted loyalty and devotion towards independence. And your sacrifice didn't even matter in the end! Your deranged ex blew it all to smithereens. If you didn't despise him before, you absolutely did after your dumbass twin told you about his little 'escapades' while you were gone.

Every little thing Wilbur did, no matter how small it was, made you hate him even more. Every time he would shuffle those damned cards, it made you want to rip them to shreds and throw them across the train tracks. Every time he would sing or even breathe, you wanted to strangle him. You were absolutely certain that Schlatt felt the same.

Oh, your twin was a real card. Always boasting about how his horns were bigger than yours (who even cares anymore? Yours grew in first anyways), telling the others about your shortcomings through crude jokes, even going as far as fighting you through headbutting; you could still feel the pain of being beaten to death before respawning immediately. Schlatt hadn’t known that you respawn even in the afterlife, so you knew he was serious about killing you. You just wanted Puffy, she was far more tolerable than your twin.

The rustling of his suit jacket and his small grunts and pants resonated within the walls as he did various forms of exercising. You now knew about all of the differing variations of a pushup and you hated yourself for listening to his explanations. He would beg you, Mexican Dream, and Wilbur to stand on his back while he did his endless routines. The only one to readily take him up on that offer was Mexican Dream.

That man was arguably the only one you slightly tolerated, and you said that very lightly. He was still annoying as all hell, but he was a new face. Well, one that you didn’t know well enough to have a grudge against while you were alive. It was slightly refreshing, in a sense. When he first got here, his songs, stories, and humor gave you a nice break away from Wilbur’s depressing songs and Schlatt’s crude jokes. However when you spend eleven years trapped in a cage with one person, everything they do becomes the bane of your existence.

You were running out of things that kept you sane in this dump. You've read the same novel, counted the same ceiling and floor tiles (32 ceiling tiles and 57 floor tiles exactly), traced the same cracks in the walls, temporarily killing the same cellmates, you've done anything and everything that this cesspool had to offer. You've done everything billions of times over, a never ending cycle of monotony.

Tommy joining your group of miserable has-beens was perhaps the highlight of your fifteen, almost sixteen, years spent in this shithole. Though he finally dropped the brave facade and showed just how broken down he was after everything he’s been through, having him around was the saving grace to your sanity. He told you how your sister was, how your nephews were, and most importantly what you missed. You knew about all of the events leading up to Mexican Dream's death, but you were left in the dark with everything past that. Ender, you missed so much since you died; It baffled you how much you missed.

When the train actually stopped at your cell instead of just passing by and it's doors opened, you were just expecting another poor soul to be dropped off here. You could imagine everybody's surprise when none other than Dream stepped out of those doors. The nephew that had betrayed you without a second thought, that had murdered you, that had your severed head displayed on his mantle (you weren't sure the truth of that last statement, Tommy has a habit of over exaggerating. Though, Schlatt did say that your body was found with a missing head when you first forced him to tell you what you missed). Tommy talked to you about how he died only once, so you knew just what your nephew has been up to. It infuriated you knowing that your adult nephew was manipulating and abusing this young teenager.

While you were releasing your pent up frustrations on the masked man, he merely brushed past you and drug Tommy into the train by the arm. You could remember Wilbur banging on the doors begging for Dream to return his little brother and his angered screams echoing down the railways as the train sped off back towards the land of the living.

Lucky Tommy, he got to live out the rest of his life and actually age. You and your crew of intolerable jesters were stuck together once again.

Everybody was silent for a few months, reeling at the newly discovered fact that Dream could actually resurrect people. During those three months, they were quiet and tolerable. In a way, the talks that came out of it was like one of those family therapy sessions your older sister would hold in the living room (you remembered how she would grab you and Schlatt by the horns if either one of you refused to go). You would kill to attend one of those therapy sessions again, and this is the closest you were going to get to it.

You all talked about the things you regretted most while you were alive. Mexican Dream's was that he didn't protect his girlfriend Mamacita well enough. Schlatt's was choosing alcohol and power over his family (tears were especially shed over Tubbo, he really did regret abandoning him to be raised by you). Yours was that you were too loyal to a cause that would be absolutely decimated a short while after you sacrificed everything for it. Surprisingly, Wilbur's was that he had hurt you.

He had begged and groveled for forgiveness, telling you that he just didn't feel that special connection with you anymore. That didn't take away from the fact that he was seeing another while you two were still dating and that he blew up your life's work. He had stolen everything from you, and you would never forgive him for that.

After you made your thoughts on him completely clear, he had started treating you like you treated him in the last few months. Tension was building up between you two that had laid dormant for thirteen and a half years like a rope pulled taut about to snap.

Everybody had slowly returned to their annoying selves slowly but surely. Schlatt resumed his workout routine, Mexican Dream had started loudly singing and ranting about Mamacita's everlasting beauty again, and Wilbur eventually started up his solitaire and songwriting once again.

The three of them made you want to rip off your twisting horns and shove them in your ears in hopes of muffling them, but you knew that whomever put you here would restore your hearing and make your horns regrow. You knew that first hand after you spent a couple of years alone in this hellhole; breaking your horns off by repeatedly banging your head against the dull stone walls in a manic state was never fun. The regeneration of the keratin only slightly stung, it was like you were a kid and they were growing in for the first time again.

You felt your eye twitch as Wilbur sang about that damned train for the umpteenth time since he arrived. It’s always ‘train this' and ‘train that' and quite frankly you were sick of it. You were sick of him.

“Shut the fuck up about that damned train,” Schlatt seethed. You never once thought you would ever agree with your twin, but here you were nodding in agreement and shooting a glare at Wilbur’s direction. The brunet merely stopped his singing and reshuffled his cards, the sound making an ugly cacophony and grating at your ears.

“Not my fault you two don’t want to talk to me. I’m just making due with what I’ve been given.” He dealt the cards out in piles and started yet another game of solitaire. Seriously, how many games of solitaire can one play before they lose it? You supposed that you’d find out soon, Wilbur has been playing that monotonous card game nonstop for thirteen and a half years.

“Yeah, let the hombre chill! I like his music.” The masked man reached up to stroke his goatee, the scratching sound further penetrating your focus on your book.

Everything was quiet before Mexican Dream's voice pierced it, "hey, did I ever tell you guys how beautiful my Mamacita was?"

"You told us millions of times, fuckface. You narrate entire love letters daily, so how could we not know how 'beautiful' she was?" You complained, not once looking up from your book. Schlatt snorted to himself and returned to his workout. Mexican Dream crossed his arms in anger, cursing you out under his breath. Wilbur merely glanced at you and rolled his eyes. "You know, I'm tired of your bitchy attitude. Let him talk about Mamacita, it's not his fault every time you think you love someone it fails."

Your grip on your book tightened impossibly. If it were physically possible, the book would be crumbling to dust in your voice grip. You practically see red as you slowly dog-eared the worn page you were on and put your book down.

"Oh shit," you heard Schlatt mumble and move away from you, Mexican Dream following suit. When you both were alive, your anger was always something you knew Schlatt feared. However, you knew that he's never seen you this angry; nobody has. The majority of what you've been holding in for almost fourteen years is about to be unleashed.

"You know what I'm sick of, Wilbur?"

"Oh, do enlighten us."

"I'm sick of each and every single one of you. You three have been absolutely intolerable ever since you arrived. I was doing just fine alone and the universe just had to fuck everything up for me, just like it always does."

"There you go again," Wilbur laughed sardonically, "making everything about yourself." He gathered his cards and shuffled them repeatedly.

"I make everything about myself?! Do you even hear yourself? Mr. Oh-I'm-such-a-disappointment-to-Philza, you wallow in self pity twenty-four seven! You fucking write every single song about yourself!”

"I didn't want to come here, okay?! I didn't think it was gonna be like this! God, I might as well be in hell with you here."

"Believe me, my hell started fourteen years ago when you guys started showing up," you growled out, your ears flattening to the sides of your skull.

"Have you ever stopped to think that you're our hell? All you've done since we came here was complain and be a massive douche to all of us." He fluttered through the deck more and more as the argument escalated, the noise making you want to scream until you tasted blood.

"I'm the one that's in the wrong here? You fucked up my entire life. He," you pointed at Schlatt, "keeps beating me to death. And he," you jutted your chin towards Mexican Dream, "never shuts the hell up… Would you stop with that damn deck?! You're literally so fucking annoying."

He narrowed his eyes, "make me."

A mixture of an animalistic growl and a guttural scream left your lips as you charged at him, your head tilted downwards so he could feel the brunt of your horns. He moved out of the way just in time, the side of your horn brushing against his arm. You crashed head first into the stone wall before you stabilized yourself and looked at the brunet with seething hatred.

He was staring at you in shock, "how're you-" You used his shock to your advantage, throwing a right hook at his face. His head whipped to the side and his body followed, sending him to the ground in a heap.

"How am I still conscious? I'm a ram hybrid, dumbass. What'd you expect?" You huffed angrily before you pried the cards out of his hand and stalked over to the tracks.

He scrambled up to stop you, but before he could even reach you, you held the deck over the tracks and looked down at him. You could just imagine how your horizontal pupils were blazing with fury.

You reveled in the betrayal and animosity gleaming in his eyes as you dangled the thing he held dearest in this hell over the railroads. If you were to drop them, he'd never be able to see them again.

"We promised not to touch belongings on our first day here!" He yelled at you, his hands wrung in front of him nervously hiding the slight tremor. "Our first day here?" You scoffed, "the last time I checked, I was here for two years before any of you showed up." You gestured around the room in one angry swipe, the cards slipping slightly with how sweaty your hands were. It was then that you saw the fear in Schlatt's eyes. Good, that bastard should be scared of you. "If anything, you all are in my domain."

Wilbur flinched at the sight of the cards slowly slipping out of your hand, his breath hitching and panic stricken across his features. Mexican Dream stood up from his place and put his hands up. He was slowly approaching you like you were a cornered wild animal, making sure that you saw his every move.

He nervously chuckled, "let's just put the cards down and have a nice talk. Doesn't that sound better than this, mi amigo?"

You shook the cards once again, taking in Wilbur's silent anguish with glee. "I'm not your friend, I'm anything but. Don't tell me what to fucking do or else that picture of Mamacita is the next to go."

"...Okay, you're in charge, man. Do what you want." He reluctantly sat back down next to Schlatt. The ram was watching in fear, yet it looked like he was entertained with what was happening. You couldn't blame him, the last interesting thing that happened was three full months ago when Tommy was taken. That and you probably looked feral at the moment.

"You understand that if you drop those, they're lost forever right?"

You threw your head back and laughed, "of course I know, why do you think I only have one sock? I already tried that shit out before you came." You hummed to yourself in thought, then grinned. Wilbur was going to love this.

While you shuffled the deck, you kept a close eye on the movement happening inside the cell. Another perk to being a ram hybrid was that you had a nearly 360 degree scope of everything around you. The only movement happening was the panicked breaths from Wilbur, good. You huffed in amusement, "alright Wilbur, let's do a card trick. I'd ask you to pick a card, any card, but I don't want to risk you fucking shit up again. So, I'm just going to draw for you." You drew a card from the middle of the deck and showed it to him. "The eight of clubs, how fitting."

"(Y/n), I don't know what you're getting at, but if you don't give me those cards right now-"

"Shut it, I'm not done. I'm going to shuffle this back into the deck, watch the hands." You kept eye contact with him as you shuffled the cards rigorously, the card you pulled long since hidden with the slight of a hand. After a bit of shuffling and reshuffling, you had sneakily put the card between the two halves and bridged them until the cards were in one pile with the eight of clubs on top.

You chuckled and pulled the top card, once again showing it to him. "Is this your card?"

He nodded slightly, never once taking his eyes off from the deck. "Yes, now give it back to me!" The angry and anxious undertones were like music to your ears.

You tapped your chin in thought, "hm, I don't think I will. You've taken so much from me, it's only fair that I get some revenge." Without another word, you threw the cards behind your head and smiled widely at the sound of the fluttering down to the tracks.

Wilbur launched himself forward with a frantic yell, his hands flailing to catch all of the cards before they were lost forever. He only succeeded in catching a few.

His breath shuddered as he stared at the three cards in his hand: the five of diamonds, the four of spades, and the seven of hearts. The fate of the universe was on your side for once, perhaps preternaturally so.

"You- do you realize what you just did?!" He spun around to face you. If humans could froth at the mouth, a full waterfall would be streaming through his gritted teeth. His eyes held the rage of a man that had just lost everything in one singular instant, the resentment swirling in his dark brown orbs. Several veins were bulging in his face and neck, painting the skin in a red hue.

You walked over to your book and plopped yourself down. "Yeah," you said with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders. You opened up your book and started reading it again, leaving the man to his grief.

Everything was quiet once more much to your delight. Though you read this book from cover to cover thousands of times, enough to know most of the words by heart, you were never able to fully enjoy and immerse yourself in it with them around. You took this time to reclaim your designated corner and spend some quality time reading.

You spent hours with your nose buried deep in your book, savoring the peace. That was until it was snatched out of your hands and ripped away from you. You looked up in slight shock at the sight of Wilbur snapping it shut and walking over to the tracks.

No. No. Nononono he can’t. That was the only thing keeping you sane. He can't just get rid of it when he's done so much towards you when you were alive.

A wail left your mouth as you tackled him to the ground, your arms wrapped around his midsection. He crashed to the ground with a grunt, his forehead smacking against the painted yellow stone. You straddled his back and ripped the book away from him, throwing it across the room and away from the tracks.

You grabbed a fist full of his hair after yanking off his beanie and tossing it into oblivion with his precious cards. You pulled his head up and leaned close to his ear, "you try that shit again and your hat and cards won't be the only things lost to the void." Venom was seeping through your every word, "do you understand me?"

He merely jerked his head to the side, colliding it with your nose and mouth. You shouted in surprise and let him go in favor of holding your aching nose. You could feel the warmth of the blood pouring from it. Through teary eyes, you looked up at Wilbur as he grabbed your book and flung it against the wall of the opposite side of the tracks. You scampered to the edge and watched in horror as it disappeared into the void.

Without warning, you were forced to the ground, a hand holding you by a horn and a knee between your shoulder blades. You struggled before a dark chuckle was heard, "if you keep moving, you'll slip! Do you really want that?" You begrudgingly stopped, realizing that he had all the power in this situation. If he wanted to, he could just slide you off from the platform and toss you away like throwing a piece of paper into the trash.

"Good, you're not as stupid as you were earlier today." He slid you forward, holding your upper body over the tracks by the horn. You came face to face with the swirling abyss that was the void, small shapes appearing from your eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of visual stimulant. Your breathing picked up as he lowered you slightly, "you don't wanna do this."

"No, I do. Thirteen and a half years of having to be around you was hell, but the shit you pulled today just put the icing on the cake. Do you have any last words before you go?"

You grunted as he shook your head slightly, a slight pain coming from the base of your horn. "Fuck you."

"How appropriate, now let's see if you'll come back this time. It'll be our fun little science experiment!"

He dropped your horn without a care in the world, sending you plummeting to your demise. A terrified scream ripped it's way out of your throat and you screwed your eyes tightly shut in preparation for the void. Your body came to a jerking halt as you held your breath, preparing for… whatever awaited you. However, nothing came.

You cracked open an eye only to be met with the uncanny inkyness, the invisible mist freezing your face and its frostbitten arms opened wide for you. But you never fell into its embrace.

Instead, you were pulled back onto the platform. You laid on your stomach with your horn supporting your head staring at the wall, tracing every single nook and cranny of the bricks. Your chest heaved as you greedily gasped for air. You never thought you'd be so relieved to see the cement walls you've been trapped in for over a decade and a half.

You were once again pulled up into a now sitting position and leaned against the wall, your back touching the cool cement. Across from you, you saw Mexican Dream pinning a struggling Wilbur down to the floor. Wilbur's crazed eyes met you, piercing through your very being. However, that didn't affect you in the slightest; you almost were just wiped from existence completely, you stared into the abyss and it stared back at you.

You felt… strange, to say the least. While icy fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, you felt warmth blossoming in you at the same time. It was like the void was an actual person, politely giving you some form of relief from the hell you've been subjected to for over a decade and a half. It was so welcoming, not terrifying like you initially thought it was. When your fingertips grazed its surface it felt freezing to the touch, yet you felt the staticky power it was showing you. In that split moment of touching it, you had already accepted the power it held over you.

A hand softly slapped your cheek, "c'mon, (y/n). Talk to me." Your eyes drifted lazily to your twin. He was extremely pale, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of responsiveness. When you looked at him, he visibly relaxed. "It was so… so beautiful, Schlatt."

"Yeah, what the actual fuck did you just say? You almost just- just died for good dumbass." He looked at you incredulously, you could just see the cogs in his brain working hard to process what the hell he was seeing.

You looked back at Wilbur, he had stopped struggling slightly and was instead looking at you with a hint of confusion shining through the crazed daze. Mexican Dream tilted his head, the mask skewing slightly to the side of his face. "Thank you, Wilbur. You've shown me that there's… there's more to this hellhole than suffering. There's beauty in the darkness." His struggling had come to a complete halt, now staring at you with the most confusion you've ever seen from him. You also saw a very small hint of fear from deep within his irises.

A calloused hand gripped your chin and forced you to look back at your twin. "What are you on," he hissed lowly, "the stuff that's comin outta your mouth right now is actually batshit insane. He almost just permanently murked you and you're fucking thanking him."

"I haven't felt this at ease in nearly two decades. I feel ethereal, Schlatt, and it's all thanks to him." You let your eyes drift over to Wilbur. Giving him a content smile, you nodded your thanks at him.

The next few days went by tensely for the others, eyeing your every move and keeping you away from the ledge. You had only peered over the ledge once since then, it was just so alluring to you. It was nothing, yet everything at the same time. Mexican Dream had pulled you back to the opposite end of the room by your horns. The part that disturbed the three men was that you said absolutely nothing about it. You didn't even struggle against it, you just laid limp and let it happen.

With each passing second you spent away from the void, the feeling of utter peace was rapidly draining from your body; instead being replaced by icy fear, paranoia, and the realization that you were almost completely swallowed whole by the void.

After coming back to your senses, you didn't allow anybody near you. Your instincts going haywire and screaming that they were going to hurt you if they came close. The last time Schlatt tried touching you, you damn near took his finger off. They didn't bother trying to approach you anymore, instead glancing at you from the corners of their eyes. Wilbur was perhaps the one you feared the most, you knew that if he didn't hesitate to toss you away the first time, he would surely do it a second time. He spent most of his time staring at you, you didn't know if he was zoned out or not.

Everybody was against you, you knew it. You just knew it. They were plotting to toss you back into the void. That thing- or was it an entity? Whatever it was held a power over you that you didn't know was possible. That trance that it put you in, the craving you felt, was something that was repeating like a broken record in your mind. You could still feel the void calling out to you, it was terrifying.

You spent most of the time huddled in your corner staring at the fingers that had grazed the textured nothingness. You could still feel the buzzing and popping of the power on your fingertips, that inky residue staining your skin wouldn't come off. No matter how hard you scrubbed, scratched, or scraped, it would not leave your body. It was freezing.

The oncoming train screeching to a gradual stop was perhaps the only thing you fully acknowledged outside of your safety bubble in days. You watched in shock as it stopped at the platform. The doors opened with a fwoosh, fog pouring out onto the smooth stone floors.

Out stepped Dream, the smile etched into his cracked mask sent chills to your core. Next to him was… was another Wilbur? How in the name of Ender was that even possible?

This Wilbur was different though. This one was desaturated. This one didn't have an insane glint in his eyes, this one had grief shimmering in the tears that steamed on his cheeks. This one was broken compared to the well established man against the wall. This one was defenseless.

Dream shoved him to the center of the room, the man falling to his hands and knees. Sobs escaped his mouth as steam left his skin and drifted along the sides of his face before dissolving into the air.

"Got a new plaything for you guys, this one isn't as… fun as Wilbur is though." Dream's head turned towards you before it tilted. "What happened there? Did our dear little (y/n) get too close to the void?"

"They are none of your concern, pandejo," Mexican Dream seethed at his counterpart from his position next to the train. "Why are you even here, man?"

"Oh, I'm just here to make a trade. I'm afraid that I'll have to give you guys Ghostbur here in exchange for Wilbur."

Wilbur stared at him with pure hope and glee springing up in his eye for the first time in over a decade. "Really?"

Dream chuckled, "yes, really. What, do you really think I'd lie to you?"

"I don't know, ya smiley freak. You've been known to fuck people over." Schlatt scoffed, his ear flicking in annoyance.

"I'm telling the truth this time. Wilbur, come with me."

Stars shone in his eyes as he reveled in the sight of the open train doors. He followed the masked man with a skip in his step, ecstatic giggles leaving his mouth as he boarded.

Anger flooded you as you purse your lips together and you darted towards the train. The doors were closing already, if you could just-

The door shut with a clank, blocking you from freedom. Your clenched fists banged against the window, glowering at the sight of Wilbur's happiness and Dream looking at you with a wave.

"You fucking bastard! Take me, he doesn't deserve it! He threw his goddamned life away, you're wasting your time with him!" Your angry shouts were ignored by the two however as the train once again started moving with a small hiss.

A frustrated scream left your mouth as you pummeled the iron with your fists as it moved. If only you could find a train car to jump onto-

Now. You leapt from the platform towards the junction between two of the train cars. However, your leap of faith was set to a halt midair by Schlatt holding your upper arms. You thrashed against him, desperate to get back to the land of the living, desperate to leave this godforsaken hell called the afterlife, but once again, you were torn away from what you were trying to achieve.

You fell limp as you watched the last train car pass the platform and disappear down the tracks and into the void. The next possible time it would show it’s face would be in a few months if you were lucky. You let him take you back to your corner, your feet limply being drug against the floor. After you were plopped back down, you stared at the clone of your ex. You were pretty sure Dream said that his name was ‘Ghostbur’. What a strange name, yet you supposed that it was fitting for Wilbur’s apparition.

“Are ya done with your little ‘moment’, (y/n)?” Schlatt was kneeling in front of you, his hands prepared to grab you if you made a run for it. Though his tone was annoyed, you could detect the very small worried undertone of his voice.

You nodded and watched as he took a seat next to you, also staring at the newcomer. This is the closest he’s sat next to you in years.

“...What do you think of the clone over there?” You hummed to yourself, “he looks pathetic, but I think that might be the only thing he and Wilbur share.”

Mexican Dream took a seat next to you, slinging an arm over your shoulders. Normally, you would’ve shrugged him off, but you were too emotionally drained to do so. “Si, he does look kinda weak. But I think our new hombre here has promise.”

“Promise for what?” Schlatt snorted. Mexican Dream hesitated, “...I don’t know. This is gonna be interesting, mis amigos.”

“The party’s just begun, boys. Buckle up, this is gonna be a wild fucking ride.” You mused to them, unsure of what the future would hold with the newcomer. Though after a couple of years, you were sure you were going to hate him; that is if he’s nothing like his clone. Ender help you if he’s anything like Wilbur.

As you stared at the broken man, you couldn’t help but wonder: why did he get to go back? As far as you were concerned, psychopaths like him do not deserve a second chance at life. If anything, it should be you boarding that train. It should be you getting a second chance. He was the one that so readily threw his life away while you had yours ripped away from you.

One continuous thought was circling in your mind: why couldn’t it have been me?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wrung your hands together as you anxiously waited for Tommy, Ghostbur, and Friend outside of Pandora’s Vault. Ranboo and Tubbo sat next to you in the grass, giving you silent comfort with their presence. You were mainly worried for your boyfriend, his worst fear was Dream using the resurrection book on him. You had calmed him down from a panic attack prior to meeting up with the teenagers, begging him to let you go in his place. Of course, Ghostbur being the caring and brave soul he was, wove you off and ensured that he’d be okay.

When you saw someone emerging from the portal, you leapt to your feet and steadied your head on your shoulders before you examined the people emerging. Except you only saw a human and a sheep, no ghost.

Tommy looked pale and on the verge of tears as he led Friend towards you. Before he spoke, he used his sleeve to wipe at his tears.

“Hey, Tommy! How did it- where’s Ghostbur?” The enderman hybrid stretched his usually slouched back to peer at the portal, keen eyes searching for any sign of movement.

“I think he’s dead… He’s dead!”

Tubbo tilted his head and looked up at the blond in confusion, “well, yeah. He’s a ghost. Of course he’s dead.” Ranboo nodded in agreement, “yeah, he can’t die again. That just isn’t possible.”

You said nothing (not like you could in the first place, your head wasn’t connected to your body), looking into Tommy’s eyes inquisitively. They were chock full of panic, grief, and fear, staring down at the lead in his clenched hands.

“No, no you don’t understand, it’s not that he’s dead… it’s that Wilbur’s back.”

“Hold on, the Wilbur that blew up L’Manberg? That Wilbur?” Ranboo peered down at him incredulously. “Yes! C’mon, he- we gotta get to L’Manberg.”

He spun around and led Friend towards L’Manberg, walking quickly with a purpose. You, Ranboo, and Tubbo followed. You hugged your head close to your chest, your eyes peeking over your arms. It was always something you’ve done whenever you were scared or worried about something. You heard stories about Wilbur from your nephew, if the stories of his insanity terrified you, you’d hate to see the man in person.

“I was about to kill Dream, and- and Ghostbur died. Dream revived Wilbur… Fuck!” Tommy walked faster, L’Manberg far off in the distance. With one hand, you grabbed the blond’s attention and finger spelled, ‘are you serious? He’s actually gone?’

“Yes! How many times do I have to explain this?! Ghostbur isn’t with us anymore and Wilbur’s back. Wilbur’s back and we’re absolutely fucked.” He turned on his heel and resumed his beeline towards the crater in the wall. No, he couldn’t be gone. This was just a cruel prank they were pulling on you, right?

Tubbo put a comforting hand on your shoulder, giving you a small sympathetic smile. You leaned into his touch slightly and carried on, stepping into the makeshift staircase behind Tommy.

You moved your arms to cover your eyes as you stepped aside to make room for the other two teenagers. You heard a voice; it sounded exactly like Ghostbur’s voice, yet it sounded... off. You however remained hopeful and uncovered your eyes.

The man that stood there certainly wasn’t your boyfriend. Everything about him was just so wrong. The emotion in his eyes, his clothing, his smile, his stance, his hair, everything. This was a completely different person. This was Wilbur Soot.

“Hello again.” His eyes flicked around your group, his gaze lingering on you for longer than the rest. You noticed that he was staring at your neck, but that was okay. You were used to it; everybody did that. What you weren’t used to was the revulsion that flashed in his eyes. The eyes that once lovingly stared at you and reassured you that he’d love you even with your… condition were now filled with disgust.

That was what broke you, the tears that you tried to hold in came streaming out like a waterfall. Stinging pain hit you as the water worked its way through the cloth of your uniform onto your arms, leaving steam floating upwards towards the cave ceiling. You phased through Ranboo’s body and made a mad dash towards your sister’s house. You needed her, you could feel a panic attack brewing inside you. Usually you would hate to be a bother to your older sister and Ghostbur would always calm you down, but now he’s…

You pushed that thought aside and focused completely on getting to Puffy’s house in the distance. You phased through the door without a thought to knock, frantically beginning your search for Puffy.

You looked everywhere, but you couldn’t find her. Unable to cope any longer, you fell to your knees in the middle of the living room and hugged your head to your chest, your face being pushed against your uniform. Your shoulders shook with silent painful sobs, the only sound in the room being the sizzling of your skin.

Why couldn’t it have been you? It should be Ghostbur standing there in that cavern, not Wilbur. This was completely your fault, you should’ve gone instead of him. You should’ve volunteered quicker than he did, you shouldn’t have let him talk you into it with his soothing words. Now because of your complete and utter cowardice, he was stuck in the afterlife once again. You were never going to see him any time soon. Your other half was ripped away from you because of your inaction.

Between sobs, your lips repeatedly formed the same phrase: why couldn’t it have been me?

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#wilbur soot x reader #ghostbur x reader #jschlatt x reader #mexican dream x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #tw: swearing #tw: death #tw: near death #tw: blood #tw: panic attack #tw: violence #tw: injury #tw: grief

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

favorite crime

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood / death, lots n lots of angst

summary: you convince peter to go on the run after he’s framed for murdering mysterio, but he doesn’t want to drag you into his mess

a/n: this was completely based off the song by olivia lfmbsjfhs it’s so beautiful and i’ve wanted to write something for it for a while now so yee i hope y’all like ! pls lmk what you think <3

“we have to get you out of here, peter! come on!” you shout back to your boyfriend and tug his hand that’s laced with yours.

peter doesn’t budge. even when your grip on him tightens, when you pull him forward with all your might, he remains stoic.

there’s something he needs to do, and he’s been contemplating it since the day he met you.

it’s time to let you go.

“please, peter. i’m begging. i know you’re tired of running, but if we don’t leave now… they’ll find you,” you desperately choke out. peter squeezes his eyes shut, dreading what’s to come. “i can’t do this to you anymore, y/n. i… i’m sorry.”

emergency sirens and flashing lights approach the old apartment building serving as yours and peter’s latest hideout. the whole world is on the lookout for him, so you two stowed yourselves away in brooklyn for a bit.

you were hopeful the rumors would pass eventually — about how peter shot the beloved mysterio and left him to die in cold blood. they’re merely talk, of course. you’d personally seen the events of that day unfold on the tower bridge. hell, your class was right at the center of them.

quentin beck was pure evil, so rotten he defamed both peter and spider-man with a charge as cruel as murder. he’s wreaking havoc on him from beyond the grave, over a complete misunderstanding that peter had nothing to do with.

beck’s true source of anger is stark industries. yet, once again, peter ended up the collateral damage.

he was deemed a wanted murderer. posters revealing his name and face were plastered up around the city, a reward even being offered to whoever who turns him in.

you’d proposed the idea of skipping town until things settled. the way you saw it, it was peter’s only option other than prison for twenty-five to life. peter was panicking and couldn’t think straight, so he went along with your getaway plan.

a few weeks later, he’s regretting it.

you’ve been the one person he could trust through this madness. you’re right there to console him, to protect him just like he does you. through sickness and health, life and clearly death, you stick by peter’s side. you left everything behind without a second thought, for him.

peter loves you more than you’ll ever fully be able to comprehend, which is why he can’t ask you to do that. this is his battle to fight, not yours or anyone else’s. his.

you suddenly freeze in your tracks, turning around to look at peter. “what are you talking about? you’re fine, pete.”

his eyes roam everywhere except to yours as they water. blinking back tears, he fixes his gaze on your intertwined hands. you notice a stray tear fall down his cheek and use one of your thumbs to wipe it away, then press a reassuring kiss to his lips. peter lets himself reciprocate momentarily before jerking back.

“please just… stop being so nice to me. you’re making this way harder than i wanted to to be,” he rasps and squeezes your hand tighter. you’re still lost, absolutely clueless about what he’s referring to.

“look, pete. i wanna hear you out, baby. but… i think it should wait until we get to jersey.” you keep your voice as calm as possible, though you’re terrified for both of you. since the feds know your location, they’ll have the place surrounded any minute.

hopping cities isn’t cutting it anymore, so you’ll have to change states this time. new jersey is next on your list.

using his strength to his advantage to hold you in place, peter seizes both your shoulders. his bloodshot eyes lock with yours. a stern expression coats his features, one you’ve seen from him yet never been on the receiving end of.

“we’re not going to jersey, y/n/n,” he declares, the sirens starting to grow louder. you feel a pit forming in your stomach. “we have to!” you immediately protest. “it’s not gonna be easy finding our way, but it’s the last-“

peter cuts you off, voice softer now. “no, no. that’s not what i meant.” he waits a beat and inhales a deep breath, aiming to settle his nerves. it doesn’t.

“i’m going to jersey. you’re staying.”

tears cloud your vision the second those words leave his mouth. you shake your head furiously back and forth, willing him to take them back.

part of you was always afraid peter would get second thoughts. not only about running away with you, about ever being with you. you’re both so young. your entire lives are ahead of you, and peter won’t allow you to risk your own because this isn’t worth a single bit of it.

he’d warned you how dangerous it was to be associated with spider-man. it’s why he held off on telling you about his alias for the longest he could. you naturally began asking questions whenever peter bailed on dates and showed up to school covered in bruises. he hated lying to you, using his stark internship as an excuse, so he finally came out and said it.

peter sometimes wonders if you’d be better off not knowing at all. it’s too late now, though.

“wait, what? why- why can’t i go with you?” you plead, peter’s fingers coming up to cup your cheek. his fingertips lightly caress your skin. “i’m a criminal, y/n. you’d be my accessory.”

it takes everything in him not to break down and sob along with you.

you lean into his palm, already missing his touch. “i don’t care... i don’t give a fuck. i just wanna be with you, peter.” peter literally has to bite his tongue to fight the urge to cry. hands grabbing either side of his head, your fingers twist in his hair roughly. “i’ll do anything, pete. i really will, i swear. name it.”

peter threads his own fingers through yours again, bringing your hands to his chest.

“i’m so sorry, angel. i never should’ve gotten you involved,” he murmurs out and pecks your forehead. “you have nothing to prove to me, okay? you’ve done more than enough. i’m gonna return the favor.”

you let out a strangled whine, your knees buckling as you come to terms with the gravity of your situation.

this is it. this is the end of yours and peter’s story.

“hey, none of that. it’s okay,” peter coos, neither of you convinced. the tastes of salt and metal flood both your senses. he helps you back up and hugs your waist, peppering your cheeks in more kisses. you’re bawling now, arms wound around his neck, clutching at his tattered jacket.

free tears escape peter’s eyes at last. “i love you. i love you so goddamn much, y/n. never forget it,” he nearly whispers. you sniffle and push your forehead against his. “i’m not saying it back ‘cuz that feels like a goodbye, and i- i can’t say goodbye to you yet.”

“it’s not a goodbye,” peter reassures you, rubbing circles on your lower back. “it’s, uh, it’s a see you later. i’m gonna figure something out and be back to you before you know it. can’t get rid of me that easy.”

that earns a faint giggle from you, peter managing a grin. you two attempt to ignore everything happening beyond these walls, only focusing on the other.

“then, um…” you clear your throat. “i love you.” his smile dwindling slightly, peter nods and meets your gaze. “i love you too, baby. you should probably get going soon.”

affirming his advice, a booming voice that sounds from a microphone commands peter to come out with his hands up.

your worry spikes, instinctively drawing peter in closer. he forces himself to put on a brave face for you.

“i’m scared, pete. where… where am i supposed to go?” you rush to ask him. “home, y/n/n. go home,” peter decides, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. “just don’t get caught, and you’ll be fine.” carding your fingers in his undone curls, you sigh. “easier said than done, but i’ll try not to.”

you’d never pictured that the sweet boy with a heart too big and brain even bigger, who sings you to sleep even though his voice sucks and spends his last dollar buying you flowers, would be accused of first degree murder. it isn’t true or fucking fair.

what’s worse, he has to bare this storm alone now.

you lift your heavy backpack off the cold ground, slinging it onto your shoulders. peter stares out the window and down at the assembly of swarm troops crowded together.

“are you gonna be okay?” you catch his attention. he snaps back into reality, pulling your hood up so it covers your head. you’re wearing a sweatshirt of his, after having gone through all your own clothes. “i hope so. are you?” peter repeats your question. “i hope so,” you echo.

tying your hoodie strings tight, peter offers a smile. “say hi to may for me. ned and mj, too.” it’s going to be tough to face his family and friends after this. “i will. i’ll let them know you’re alright.” you kiss his cheek, placing a hand on his chest. peter lets your touch distract him from the mess he’s about to be hit with.

“thank you, y/n. i’ll see you soon, baby. you have my word,” he promises, stepping back so you two can go your separate ways.

you watch him with fresh tears threatening to spill.

“i’m gonna hold you to it. be safe, spidey.”

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mc-lukanette · 3 years

Note

I haven’t watched the new episode but I heard it was awful. Do you have a fix-it that I can pretend is canon?

- Marinette is stressed, and extremely so; her schedule is more hectic and the kwami have been keeping her busy with teaching her any guardian rules/lessons they know from their limited knowledge that she might not have gotten from Fu since he hadn’t had the time to teach her due to what happened.

- Because of these factors, her dates with Luka have often been interrupted and constantly replanned, only the cinema date being anywhere near complete due to her giving him the guitar pick necklace. Luka is trying to be respectful and not pry, but can’t help being disappointed whenever she leaves.

- Eventually, Luka talks to her on the matter, concerned for where she goes and how she always seems anxious when she does. Marinette assures him that she adores him, but she has... things that she has to do, and even though she wishes so badly for it to be different, she’s forced into this situation and she’s so sorry for it.

- Luka is pained by the secret she’s forced to keep, but gives her a sad smile and ends the conversation there. She can tell that he’s putting on a brave face from the slump as he walks away.

- Later on, Marinette is walking down an empty street, muttering to Tikki about the situation, when an unfamiliar form descends from above and lands in front of her. Tikki quickly conceals herself and Marinette goes on the defensive, recognizing that this must be an akuma. “Who are you, and what do you want with me?!”

- The akuma reaches out... and gently takes her hand in his. “We have a date planned today, Marinette, and I want to make sure that we get to finish it this time.” “...W-what? Wait--Luka?”

- In that instance, someone from a distance screams at the sight of the akumatized Luka, yelling for someone to call Ladybug. Luka faces them, muttering, “You’re disrupting us,” his sentimonster helper using their ability to make the person and even the phone they were trying to use go completely silent, much to their shock. Roger, who was nearby at the time, approaches and gives a speech about defending Paris, then tries to attack Luka, but Luka uses his own power to flash Roger back to where he was a minute ago (meaning Luka’s sentimonster is an equivalent to Silencer whereas Luka himself is similar to Viperion); this happens to put Roger in the middle of the street - where he’d originally been directing traffic - and he has to dodge an oncoming car.

- “Luka!” Marinette states, panicked. “You can’t do this! You’re akumatized, you’re not thinking!” In response, Luka settles his hand on her shoulder. “I’m thinking perfectly well, and all I can think is about how you’re so burdened by something that I could never help you with. Now I can, and I’ll stop anyone or anything from bothering you or interrupting us, so we can have the date you deserve.”

- It’s at that moment that Marinette realizes that this akuma literally just wants her to have a nice time and that’s the sweetest freaking thing she’s ever heard.

- She can’t help being torn. On one hand, this is an akuma who will inevitably cause havoc, and she stops akuma as Ladybug... but on the other, this is Luka and she’s so touched and this is an offer for them to finally have a date not interrupted by an akuma because he IS an akuma, and she’s felt so bad ditching him before so this is a chance to remedy that.

- Marinette can see Tikki peering at her judgementally from her purse, but the opportunity is too tempting to pass up and Marinette agrees to go on a date with him, exciting Luka as he enthusiastically tugs her closer so they can walk together.

- Cue montage of Luka recreating their dates, though this time where she can actually enjoy them without interruption. Luka and his sentimonster occasionally use their powers and Marinette clearly hesitates, but he dotes on her so much that it’s hard for her to not want to continue their dates.

- Meanwhile, Shadow Moth probably: Wh--where the heck is Ladybug???? (there’s also probably a moment where Luka mentions Shadow Moth and Marinette uses the opportunity to gather some information)

- During one of the recreated dates, Chat Noir shows up and manages to snatch Marinette away, jumping up and out of harm’s way while trying to find a place to hide. He ducks into an alleyway and is about to go on about how neat his save was when Marinette huffs and asks, “What do you think you’re doing?!” “...U-uh, saving you?” “I didn’t need saving! We were on a date!” “You were on a what now.” “Chat Noir, it’s very rude to interrupt someone’s date. “I’m sorry, Princess, but I’m still stuck on the fact that you said you were dating an akuma--”

- At that moment, a hand clamps down on Chat Noir shoulder. He stiffens and turns, seeing Luka there and very much not happy. Luka squints, asking lowly, “What did you call her?”

- Chat Noir can only weakly look back at Marinette, who waves apologetically at him right before he’s yeet’d off into the distance. The sentimonster gives chase.

- Marinette does eventually leap into action as Ladybug once she recognizes that okay this was amazing and incredible and I’m officially de-stressed but Luka is akumatized and there is definitely a rule against Ladybug dating supervillains.

- Naturally, when Ladybug arrives, Luka’s first concern is what happened to Marinette. Ladybug tries to get him to back down and points out that he won’t even remember any of this once de-akumatized, but Luka insists that, “It’s okay. Marinette will remember.”

- Ladybug is internally like okay but can you not, I’m trying to fight you here and you’re making it difficult.

- Ladybug tries to negotiate/convince Luka into getting de-akumatized, until Chat Noir shows up on the scene again, the sentimonster following after. The fight itself is significally difficult and limiting; if they make any loud, disruptive noises, they’ll be silenced, but if they try to fight Luka directly/physically, he can zap them back to where they were a minute prior; knowing Luka, he could even engineer it so that one of them perhaps gets trapped if they’re not careful.

- Post-deakumatization, Marinette meets up with Luka and gives him a long overdue kiss. Luka is stunned, having been prepared to apologize for getting akumatized, and asks her what he did to deserve it, to which Marinette explains that he’s amazing and she’s happy to have him.

- They end up talking and Luka apologizes for trying to pry about her secret, but explains about his dad and the mystery behind his identity (foreshadowing the conflict for a future episode: I'd have the whole Jagged thing be a different episode so it gets proper focus). Marinette insists that she understands and he has nothing to apologize for, but pauses and laments that their dates might very well continue to be interrupted.

- Luka hesitantly starts to ask if she thinks it’d be best if they broke up, but Marinette cuts him off to insist otherwise. She wants to make this work with him but it’s complicated and she literally (stressing that it’s not a trust issue) cannot tell him why she leaves all the time. Luka smiles reassuringly and points out that a perfect song doesn’t exist and that every song goes through edits. Marinette asks what he means and Luka explains that he can’t help wanting to be selfish and spend time with her, but also that the knowledge of them dating is enough.

- Marinette, considering this, realizes that - yeah - not going on dates doesn’t mean they can’t be in a loving relationship, and maybe they can stop planning dates and get together right after she deals with akuma instead. She’s been a mess because of stress and that’s caused even more problems, so it doesn’t make sense to cause herself more stress by breaking up with Luka; she needs to take care of herself.

- The episode ends with Marinette in her room, some of the kwami being a bit chaotic/loud but Marinette being completely unphased and talking excitedly to Luka on the phone about their recent date “after that crazy akuma attack,” as Luka can’t hear the kwami due to their voices not breaking through technology.

#type: ideas #episode: Truth #Flower Arrangement Shipping #other: ml spoilers #((Kind of an expansion of ''The Evillustrator'' but with essences of ''Silencer.''))#Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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therealvinelle · 4 years

Note

Hi, love your metas and your fic. I think you mentioned somwhere that at the end of BD Aro was trying to prevent the fight. What were his motives? According to Edward, the Volturi are cowards, but I didn't get this feeling. Caius was begging for a battle, the guard vocally proclaimed willingness to die for the cause... hell, Jane had to be restrained from running to Bella and punching her in the throat. And I find it unlikely that their leader is less brave than them. Explain Aro's brain pls

Thank you so much! That’s really nice of you to say. And sorry for the late answer.

And explain Aro’s brain, whew. That is a very big question with a very long answer and this post will be a manifesto by the time I’m done. But you wanted Aro’s brain explained so manifesto it is.

So, before we go anywhere I have to make the distinction between Aro of the books and Aro of the movies. Those two are different people.

Starting with appearance, because casting does a lot for me and if a big deviation is made it better be like Ruth Wilson as Marisa Coulter, which is to say it better fit the character. Also, disclaimer, I think most of Twilight was miscast, and especially the Volturi. I’m forever dying at Caius looking like Lucius Malfoy. However, this is an Aro post, so we’re highlighting Aro.

Aro of the books is a twenty-something Greek with skin that has petrified and eyes covered in a milky sort of film, which totals to him looking perfect, as all vampires do, yet frail. When he walks it looks like he’s gliding. This is an otherworldly, ancient, inhuman being. He’s energetic and excitable, yes, but if anything that should add to how very other he is. Casting Michael Sheen is a clear signal that the movies were going in a completely different direction with Aro. Sheen is a great actor who played what he was given perfectly, but what he was given was a very different character.

In New Moon the book, Aro first rejects Edward request because this is Carlisle’s gifted son, and more, this is not what the Volturi do. They are not hitmen. It’s just a big no all around.

Bella enters, and the Aro she meets is a very polite and gracious man who’s delighted to see the human still alive, and pleased Carlisle’s son won’t be suicidal anymore. However, Edward fully intended to step into the sunlight in the middle of Volterra, specifically to provoke the Volturi, and he has broken the law with Bella. Further, Edward makes it clear that he fully intends to walk out of Volterra with his human still human, and that she’ll die of old age if he gets his way. Edward’s contempt of the law could not be more clear. However, Alice shows Aro that Bella’s fate is sealed, she turns or she dies. The law will be upheld. Aro is glad to hear it, and lets the Cullens all go home.

All in all, it’s a very tense occasion where Edward has put Aro in a difficult position, because he’s trying to force him to kill his best friend’s son, and Aro goes “YES THANK GOD” when Alice finally gives him an out.

New Moon of the movies was not this. Starting with the flashback (because I’m being thorough), Aro executes a lowly criminal himself. I object to that, I think that’s a menial task and Aro doing it himself made the Volturi look less regal, not more. Cut to the present day, Aro rejects Edward’s request because he doesn’t want to waste his gift. We get the whole meeting with Bella, and Aro… well I don’t know why he does any of the things he does. This guy never mentions his friendship to Carlisle, tries to kill our plucky heroes three times in the space of one minute (one, gives Felix the order to kill Bella, stopped by Edward. Two, moves to decapitate Edward, stopped by Bella. Three, he’s about to eat Bella, stopped by Alice), and when he lets them go it feels terribly convenient.

This was a guy written to be the villain of the series, and it showed.

Cut to Breaking Dawn part I’s ending scene, and while I love the song choice for the scene, and fully agree that Aro considers misspelling Carlisle’s name to be a capital offense, the scene itself… we are presented with a villainous, power-hungry megalomaniac who’s just waiting to strike against the Cullens.

We then get Breaking Dawn part II, and I haven’t seen that movie in years but I remember the fight scene well enough. Aro kills Carlisle with the biggest grin on his face, and gives the go-ahead to his Volturi to kill the surviving Cullens and their witnesses.

Contrast that with canon, where Aro’s first words to Carlisle are «Nothing would make me happier than preserving your life today». Now, he’s making it very clear that this meeting will most likely end with Carlisle’s death, but he’s not happy about it. He’s certainly not going to kill him with a smile on his face and laughter in his heart.

The movies needed a hammy villain, and that’s what Michael Sheen played. It is not who Aro is, at all. And he’s not the only character this happened to, but again, this is an Aro post so I’m not going to start raging like Don Corleone about what they did to my boys.

So, with the movies firmly expelled from the post, let’s look at the Twilight series from Aro’s point of view.

Or, rather, we’ll have to start earlier because Aro’s decisions throughout the series are pretty clearly motivated by Carlisle. And that means considering, “why is Carlisle so important, anyway?”

Consider these things: one, Aro is gifted with the power of knowing every single thought a person has ever had. He knows your soul. Two, Aro is the leader of the supernatural world, he has been for over a thousand years.

How many friends does a person with that power and in that position have?

Three, who does Aro even come into contact with?

Starting with number three, for Aro it’s going to be 1) criminals, 2) Volturi guard hopefuls, 3) Weirdos like Laurent who are wasting Aro’s time.

(“But what about the guard!” Well, while we observe close interpersonal relationships between Aro and Jane, and Aro and Renata, and one can assume Corin to be close to the wives, the distinction between Volturi coven and Volturi guard remains. The guards are servants, in some cases beloved servants, but servants nonetheless. It would be inappropriate and weird for Aro to start slumming it with Demetri and Felix)

So, Aro doesn’t get out much, which brings us to point two. The people he does meet, and who are willing to entertain a friendship with the Volturi leader, are going to be people who want something. And that might work for some rulers, Louis XIV built Versailles specifically to make his subjects do this for him, but he had something to gain politically from that. Aro does not, his power is supreme without a need to tolerate brown nosers. More, with his own and Marcus’ gifts, he’ll know right away that he’s being used for power. He would get nothing out of it.

Finally point one, Aro’s gift. Say that we have a vampire who’s not a weirdo and who thinks Aro’s a cool dude. Well, the question now is, who would ever want a person in their life who knows all there is to know about them? I wouldn't want anybody to know every thought I've ever had, I certainly would never seek out a person to know me that deeply when I could just go find normal people to be friends with instead. Not to mention how incredibly unequal such a friendship would be.

In short, I don’t think Aro has any friends.

Enter Carlisle a very amiable person who cherishes Aro for his personality, and doesn’t mind having his mind read. Aro just found a unicorn. Carlisle on his end likes Aro so much that he lives with him for decades. Even if you want to read their relationship as platonic, that’s still a very strong friendship.

Point being that Carlisle is unbelievably precious to Aro, and so very unique. Aro has lived for over three millennia, and never met anyone like this before. There won’t be another Carlisle.

This in turn makes him willing to stretch as far as he can to preserve that friendship and, as the plot thickens, keep Carlisle alive.

Fast forwards to 2006, and Aro is sitting in Volterra minding his own business when Carlisle’s son walks into town demanding his own execution. He has not committed any crimes. Not only is assisted suicide not something the Volturi even do, but this would ruin Aro’s friendship with Carlisle. Even if Carlisle was miraculously understanding of Aro killing his son (which I can’t imagine he would be), this would never leave the air between them. Carlisle could never be around him again after something like that.

So, Aro turns down Edward’s request. “Stupid Volturi man ruining my dramatic suicide, I’ll show him who’s boss!” Edward replies, and runs shirtless into the sunlight. I’m sure Aro was just dying, you had “The Sound of Silence” playing as he stared into nothingness because how is this happening to him. A whiplash of an hour later, Bella is alive again, Aro is happy, we can be done with this now, right? Right?!

No, Edward says, we cannot be done with this. He’s still refusing to turn Bella.

And so we get that whole New Moon exchange where Aro very tellingly shoves the part where Edward WALKED INTO THE SUNLIGHT IN VOLTERRA under the carpet and out of the conversation (for comparison: Irina is executed for false testimony and Bree for breaking a law she didn’t know existed), and he even allows Bella to leave human when he could easily have bitten her himself to keep the Cullens honest. This guy went out of his way to be lenient and show the Cullens good faith.

And then a few months later Irina walks into Volterra, bearing memories of what is unmistakably a Cullen immortal child.

Aro may care for Carlisle, but this is the guy who killed his baby sister so he’d still have Marcus’ gift. He will bend far, very far, for those he cares about, but he will not break. It’s duty above love, Volturi above Aro’s personal preferences. An immortal child is not an offense that can be tolerated, and so it’ll be Didyme 2: Aro Kills Someone He Loves Boogaloo.

By now I think it should be quite clear why I think Aro was trying to prevent the fight. Battle would have meant Carlisle’s certain death.

(And that’s even assuming the Volturi won the fight. With Bella there, there was a chance the Volturi wouldn’t prevail. But even before Bella started showing off, Aro was very much hoping this wouldn’t be another Didyme situation.)

#aro #volturi #carlisle cullen #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #the sad thing is that i have so much more to say about Aro #this is only the first of many posts #Anonymous #ask #i guess i also have to tag #aro/carlisle #sorry guys my terrible ship is leaking into my metas #but damnit IT'S A GOOD SHIP #long post

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thunderheadfred · 3 years

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❄️Todoroki HC's🔥

Aged-up pro hero Shouto. NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - -

General

Might as well be tied with Bakugou for the #1 pro hero spot; they seem to pass the crown back and forth every other year. Everyone knows about their intense frenemies uber-rivalry. Well. Everyone but Shouto.

He's asked to speak at a lot of charity events. If he has time to prepare (and hire a speech writer) he is capable of stirring crowds to standing ovations. But if caught unawares... he gets cornered into hilarious on-the-spot interviews. He's been memed. Mercilessly.

He's an OP character, but unfortunately he rolled -500 in fashion sense. Eventually he wises up and hires a stylist. When he finally cuts his hair a slightly different and even more flattering way, it's a national event. People faint in the street.

Does god-awful sleight-of-hand magic tricks when he meets young fans, even though nobody asked him to. The second-hand embarrassment is palpable. But he keeps doing it. God, why does he keep doing it?

Has hovering arm syndrome in every fan photo.

Super into pop music. Not a fan of any particular group or artist, couldn't tell you the name of a single song. But every time he turns up the volume on the radio it's like... really? THIS? Probably pumps that shit through his hero agency to keep up morale. Has no idea what you mean when you tell him his music taste doesn't match his personality.

Similarly, he enjoys brainless romantic comedies and old silent movies. Doesn't laugh at jokes but loses it over physical comedy. Thinks Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd are the funniest people who ever walked the earth.

He's long and limber. Runs practically a hundred miles every day just to "relax." Doesn't even get sweaty doing it. A filthy yoga addict. He'll probably live to be 200 years old.

He can regulate his body temperature for quirk use but in everyday life he's always half a degree outside the Goldilocks zone. It drives him quietly insane; he has an epic love-hate relationship with his thermostat.

Has a therapy animal pet. Doesn't matter if it's a dog or a cat or a bird or an iguana or a teeny tiny rodent. It's the best-behaved animal in the country and speaks more languages than you. It has its own room and an instagram account with millions of followers.

Lives in a traditional Japanese estate that doubles as a national treasure. Probably has government-appointed snipers at the gate, and he's just like, "don't worry about it." You are afraid to touch anything. Fuck, don't even look at anything, just to be safe.

Has an outstanding personal chef who only gets to cook five things unless (thank fuck!!) company comes over. Impossibly picky eater. He rotates between a few "safe" foods and suspiciously side-eyes everything else. If you cook something unfamiliar for him it will be the most awkward meal of your life, because he'd never tell you he doesn't like it. But oh lord, just look at his face.

This clashes directly with his love of traveling. Frequently uses his hero earnings to visit exotic foreign locales over long weekends... but rarely tries the food.

- - -

Dating

A grey-ace demisexual disaster. You could count the number of people he's been attracted to on one hand. He falls madly in love every time and always gets his heart smashed to pieces when his crush can't magically intuit the meaning of his frigid longing glances and generically courteous romantic gestures.

Which is stupid, because he gets propositioned constantly. He can't walk out the door without being flirted with. People keep slipping him their phone numbers and he always directs them to his agency like a moron. It's a good thing he will never understand how attractive he is because that's the only thing keeping him from total world domination.

Conventional attractiveness does not compute. Shouto doesn't have a type, doesn't care that he's an eleven whilst you are merely mortal. He will fall for your personality above all else.

Probably falls head over heels because your schedules overlap in a completely ordinary way and he witnesses you doing something endearing or brave or most likely: utterly mundane.

Pick a favorite, because you're his favorite coworker, or his favorite barista, or his favorite random bystander in line at the grocery store. You made him smile once; then he spent the next three months daydreaming about your future together before you accidentally stomped on his foot, initiating your first real conversation.

He's big on healthy communication. HUGE. He goes to therapy and it shows. Will talk through literally everything to the point of delirium. Sometimes his dedication to resolving every issue right away can get overwhelming; sometimes you just need some frickin time alone. But it pays off, because the two of you have practically never have a "real fight." There's just no way for bad vibes to fester.

STILL, his family wasn't exactly... erm... verbally or emotionally supportive, shall we say. For that reason, he might not give you all the compliments you deserve, because it simply doesn't occur to him to do so. He assumes you know how he feels. If you're self-conscious or insecure in the relationship, it might take him a while to notice. But when he figures it out (or even better, when you tell him directly) he will make it up to you with enthusiasm.

Will take you on lavish dates. Spoils you rotten without actually intending to. He's clueless about money. If you wanted a sugar daddy, you just hit the fucking jackpot. But if the word valet makes you uncomfortable, perhaps suggest some romantic picnics instead. He can still go all out with the food and five-star location without making you see cartoon dollar signs.

Chronic Insomniac. Stays up too late watching YouTube every night. His viewing history is an incomprehensible blur of k-pop music videos, serial killer icebergs, and super girly crafty ASMR channels. When he's watching a video, he is unreachable. Please call back later and try again.

He's disgustingly cute when he sleeps. Doesn't snore, but drools. Sometimes the drool freezes and leaves frost trails on his face in the morning. Still sleeps with the giant stuffed cat pillow that his mother gave him when he was like, zero. He'll inadvertently suffocate you with it, and you will welcome death with open arms because awwwwww!!!!!

The first time he tells you he loves you will be after your traditional Japanese shinto wedding. You won't hear it again until you start a family. Honestly, it's a good thing he doesn't say it often and is always holding you when it happens. It's a knee-buckler.

- - -

Icy-Hot

I don't even need to say it. Shouto is as old-fashioned as they come. You will never open another door or pull out another chair for yourself as long as you live. He will ask before he holds your hand. He will ask before he kisses you. He will stop and check in if you so much as breathe funny during sex.

If you don't orgasm at exactly the same time while staring into one another's eyes, he'll consider himself a failed lover. God forbid you want him to pound you into the futon... cause you are going to have to present that scenario to him in writing first.

Physical intimacy rarely leads to sex. He loves cuddling, craves physical affection. He'll sprawl all over you and turn into goo while you hold him close. He's an amazing, astounding, phenomenally good kisser. And that's... nice and all... but sometimes you have to grab his face and say, "Shouto, I'm horny," before he's like so that's why you're currently dry-humping me?

Even if he isn't technically a virgin the first time (or the millionth time) you sleep together, you won't know the difference. He's a blushing violet. Every. Fucking. Time. This doesn't mean he's a bad lay, oh no. But there's always ten minutes of confused bumbling before he hits his stride and remembers oh yeah, I DO know how to fuck good.

Absolutely silent during sex. Focused. Intense. Sometimes you have to push him a little to make any kind of noise at all, just so you know you're pleasing him (oh don't worry, you are).

His cock is Just Right. Not to big or too small. Perfectly proportioned and symmetrical. Somehow pretty. Like a fucking factory prototype. It truly is not fair.

Gets handsy and restless at night, even if you both have work the next day. Seems to crave sex at three in the morning. You've given him more than one exhausted handjob.

Gets offended if you don't cum. Will go down on you for hours. Of course he uses his quirk to tease you. He doesn't typically use it during actual intercourse, but he's all about foreplay, and he'll use every tool in his arsenal.

His sex drive is completely fucking unpredictable. Sometimes he's all over you, other times he's an icy slab. His line of work leaves him busy and stressed on a near-constant basis, so you can't entirely blame his personality for this one. Just give him some time and help him take care of his basic needs. He'll come back around soon enough.

#todoroki shouto #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #todoroki x y/n #gender neutral reader #todoroki headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #smut #fred writes #bnha #mha

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tailsgod · 3 years

Photo

Aeron is a hero out of time. Growing up Aeron loved to watch plays about heroes and villains. She especially loved the plays about Paladins and while she always dreamed of going on an adventure of her own, she felt that she was never brave enough to become a paladin herself so she studied to become a cleric instead. Unfortunately Aeron was never the brightest kid growing up and ended up failing her cleric exams four times. On her fifth (and final) exam she spent the night studying in front of a statue of one of her personal heroes, a paladin of her village. That night the ghost of the paladin came down and told her that her destiny was not to be a cleric but to become the greatest paladin of all time. That night Aeron trained hard with the ghost and set off on her adventures. Soon after clearing her first quest Aeron found her grand quest, to free all the slaves from the evil capitol city in the north. With this quest decided she started off alone to do what everyone claimed was impossible, and over the course of a year she gathered an army of allies to her cause, from her friends to metallic dragons. During this time she fell in love with an female archer named Slipshot, befriended druids, jousted centaurs, defeated pirates, made friends with drows and elves alike, fought necromancers, bested demons and cultists out to kill her (even fighting a demon while blind at one point), and slayed four of the five chromatic dragons with the help of her friends. Stories and plays were written of her adventures and she became known throughout the land as Aeron the Angelheart. But after Aeron managed to complete her quest to topple the evil city and free the slaves tragedy struck when her ship was attacked while the party was weak by the red dragon. Aeron sacrificed her life to defeat the red dragon and save the rest of her party... or so everyone thought. 700 years later a space exploration team found the remnants of a long destroyed planet and inside a temple on one of the asteroids was Aeron, frozen next to a dead dragon. Unfreezing her Aeron soon entered a larger and more dangerous universe than she once was in. Losing all of her paladin powers except for her ability to detect the song inside a person's heart Aeron now needed to adjust to her new reality in deep space. Getting a haircut and changing her clothes she began to search for clues about what happened to her old friends and the planet she once called home. Overtime Aeron has had to grapple with literal ghosts haunting her (both of her enemies and of her friends), a robot dog that may hold answers to Aeron's long lost mysteries, and dealing with a "magical" revolving door that confused her for far too long. But this new world is not as black and white as the old one. Since getting to the future Aeron has discovered that her actions to rid the world of evil led to a great war between gods that destroyed everything she once held dear. All the gods are dead including her own and the fragments of their souls now power the engines that travel space. And evil empires and organizations have taken control of the galaxy at large. Even her old friends have far more mysteries surrounding them, with their fates left mostly ambiguous, with few to no clues about what happened after Aeron went missing. She managed to save her oldest friend from certain doom, but had to say goodbye to the old druid as they left the dimension to protect the lives of the animals and plants they had been preserving. She has made new friends such as some other warriors, a wolf sniper, and a robot mechanic, and even has met some new loves, including a cute snake woman, a slime girl, and a small minotaur who is trying to get her phd, but there is still a deep lonliness in Aeron as she travels through space. She is a hero trying to find a purpose in a world that no longer wants them.

#dungeons and dragons #dnd #starfinder #paladin #ttrpg #space lesbians #Aeron #Knight #Hero #Gay #Oc #original character #solarian

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springstarfangirl · 3 years

Text

The Truth About King JJ

Okay, so while listening to the Theme of King JJ for the umpteenth time, I figured something out about this song. We've all been treating it like it's an extension of JJ's ego, just a song about how awesome he is. But what if it's not? What if it's not an extension of his ego, but a coping mechanism for societal pressure and anxiety that's as bad as Yuuri's?

First off, we need to look at the song itself. It sounds a touch off, doesn't it? There's something weird about the lyrics. What if I told you that the reason is that for the most part, the person singing is not JJ?

I know it sounds wild, but hear me out. We've all been reading the first line of the chorus as though it's JJ calling out to the world to follow him, but the grammar is weird. But add two commas, and look what it becomes: "I can rule the world, JJ, just follow me." Someone else is calling out to JJ, telling him to just follow the singer.

Next part: JJ is still singing in this song, but not the parts you might expect.

Now I rule the world

And the starry skies

Spreading above

That's the singer I mentioned earlier, the one who's speaking to JJ. Encouraging him.

I'll never give up even if the night should fall

Always do my best

I look in the mirror, the king looks back at me

This is JJ singing. He's scared, under pressure, but he's going to fight anyway.

I can rule the world, JJ, just follow me

I will break the walls, now look at me

Fools or even wise aren't the enemies

This is who I am, just remember me

I'm the king, JJ, no one defeats me

This is who I am, baby

Just follow me

This is the other singer again. He's proud, he's confident, he knows that JJ can't defeat him, but he invites him to follow him and learn from him.

He's on the top

And all the beauty's in his hands

This is JJ singing again. He admits to his weakness.

Now I can reach the stars

And I will show you how

Whenever you feel all alone, never shed a tear

If you always hide your pain, you'll make it through the rain

This is the other singer again, and, seeing how JJ has accepted his weakness, he gives JJ some advice. Not exactly good advice, to be fair- to hide his emotions and his pain could wreck his psyche. Which it eventually does.

I'll never give in how high the mountains rise

Keep looking ahead

I look in the mirror, the king looks back at me

This is JJ again. He's taken the advice, he's determined- but it's the kind of determination that will run him ragged if he doesn't stop at some point to reconsider.

I can rule the world, JJ, just follow me

Catch me if you can and look at me

We're back to this singer, and he's now challenging JJ. He's no longer encouraging, he's challenging JJ to become more than his expectations.

I'm brave enough to fight the enemies

This is who I am, just remember me

These two lines are a duet, both JJ and the other singer singing together as a challenge to the world.

I'm the king, JJ, no one defeats me

This is who I am, baby

Just follow me

Back to the singer, solo. He repeats his lines from earlier in the song, reminding JJ that whatever he's playing at is not going to last.

He's on the top

And all the whole universe

JJ is sinking in these lines. The other person rejected him, he's got nowhere to go.

Now I can be the star

And I will show you how

But the singer flips around again, offering reassurance and support. He can be the star, but he's going to show JJ how to be the star.

I'll never give up even if the night should fall

Always do my best

I look in the mirror, the king smiles at me

These final lines are JJ alone, finally receiving approval from the other singer, and being able to continue onward.

Now, if that's how one reads this song, and not as the catchy ego trip that it sounds like on first listen, you start to realize that JJ, despite his cocky attitude, has as many problems in his life as Yuuri. But, unlike Yuuri, who attempts to close himself off from the world, thus receiving others' attention and support, JJ pretends that he thinks he's worth something. He pretends that he has any measure of self-worth, and inflates it. By doing this, though, he's pushing off other people who could be his friends. They see it as being self-centered, and that's what they tell others. It's hard to fight a first impression.

But then that all comes crashing down at the Grand Prix Final in Barcelona, where, after two gold medals in the lead up to the final, JJ crashes and burns. He has an anxiety attack on the ice. Who knows how the other skaters' perspective on JJ will shift after that?

My thanks to @sapphieissleepy for allowing me to ramble about the Theme of King JJ in her dms. This actually came about after I mentioned that JJ was probably going to have an anxiety attack right before their show (ballet au) and Yuuri would know exactly what to do because of his own experience with anxiety. Then I realized what the song actually meant, and I couldn't help myself.

#yuri on ice #yuri on ice meta #jj leroy #jean jacques leroy #jj has anxiety #theme of king jj

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

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I have another prompt for you! Do with it ehat you want. It rested way too long in my "Ideas I never use" box:

"I don't even care about my own life, why would I care about yours? I am a fucking pheonix, my dear, death is just like an insect to me – It stings, but has no lasting effect"

(maybe it's fitted for a Fey!Jaskier? Or Ageless!Jaskier? Or a Villain?)

Ohhh I love that prompt! Thank you!! <3 (shame on me, i left out the word 'fucking' bc it didn't fit the vibe of the fic. Hope it's still ok)

I again have no idea what I'm doing, but where would be the fun in knowing what's going on in my own writing XD

word count: 4884

content warnings: brief mention of blood, brief mention of injury, temporary character death (for about two seconds), burning alive (kind of)

There was something in this forest that didn’t belong here.

Hasty steps disturbed the birds’ songs and heavy panting cut through the illusion of safety that lay over this land like a fog.

The girl running through the woods threw a glance over her shoulder, a haunted expression on her face. Her feet caught on a protruding root and with a cry that pierced the air like an arrow, she fell onto her hands and knees.

Her scream carried on, long after she had closed her lips again. The echo started out as a whisper, then it grew louder and louder, became a symphony of fear and desperation. The sound of one who was truly lost.

Then again, all who found this forest were lost in one way or another.

And though they might not realise it, no one was ever truly alone in these woods.

Inhuman blue eyes watched from the shadows of the underbrush as the girl curled in on herself, lying on the forest floor in a heap of helplessness.

With slow steps that fell onto the earth silently as a sigh, Dandelion took off their cloak of shadow and approached the lost girl in front of them. As they came closer, they lightly hummed a melody, a soft lullaby made of wishes and dreams.

Slowly, the girl’s shuddering breaths evened out and some of that tension that held her in a vice-like grip, eased out of her shoulders.

“Child,” Dandelion spoke softly, in a voice that was bird song and trees swaying in the wind.

The girl looked up. For a moment, she didn’t seem to comprehend what was kneeling before her. Then, within the blink of an eye, she scrambled backwards, terror etched onto her face.

“You don’t need to fear me,” Dandelion said softly, holding their hands up.

“Why should I believe you?” The girl’s hands wandered across the forest floor until the closed around a branch lying next to her. Though fear twisted her face, she held the branch in front of her like a sword.

Dandelion cocked their head to the side, a smile flickering over their face. This girl was brave. Most lost people were, but there was something about her…something other. Something elder.

“You can believe me, because I can’t lie.”

“You’re not human.” The girl’s gaze wandered over Dandelion. They could nearly feel how her eyes raked over his claws that were just a little too sharp to pass as human, over their blonde locks that nearly had the colour of the flower they had named themselves after; the name yet another fruitless attempt to become more than they were. They were so close to being human. Still, despite centuries searching, they hadn’t found the right them yet. Not in this life and not in any that had come before.

“I am not,” they admitted and the words tasted like ash on their tongue. Always ash. Always fire and ambers. And yet, nothing more than a small sting that would pass when the life engulfed them in another embrace. Another chance.

“Then what are you?”

Dandelion lowered themselves to the ground, until they were at eye level with the girl. Carefully, they reached out their hand, an offer, an invitation.

“I am a Home for the Lost. Another Chance.”

“I am not lost!” The girl sprang to her feet without warning, gripping the branch tighter. “I know where I’m going. I’m…I’m looking for someone.”

“And someone’s looking for you, I assume?”

The girl bit her lip while her eyes darted to the side again, scanning the trees as if whoever she was running from could jump out and attack her at any moment.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Dandelion repeated. “You can be lost here for as long as you need to be.”

“What if I don’t want to be lost?”

Dandelion gave her a smile that they knew couldn’t reach their eyes. “Then I can keep you safe until you’re found again.”

“But you’re not him. The one who’s supposed to protect me.” The girl’s breath hitched. “Are you? You’re not Geralt of Rivia.”

Dandelion drew in a deep breath, tasting the name on their tongue as they inhaled. Their eyes fluttered close as the power of the name surged through them.

“I’m not,” Dandelion agreed. It wasn’t a lie. And yet, they felt a part of Geralt of Rivia’s being taking root within him. His name was theirs. His winding path, his doubts, his destiny. His losses. “But he will come here. I promise you that.”

“How can you? Have you seen him in these woods? I didn’t know he was in Brokilon forest.”

“This isn’t Brokilon forest. It stopped being that when I found you. And it doesn’t matter where Geralt of Rivia is. Not yet.” A breeze ruffled through the trees, whispering its secrets to its master. “He will be here. All woods lead here, when you go deep enough. When you get lost enough.”

If there was one certainty that pulsed through the name like a heartbeat, it was that Geralt of Rivia was lost, more than anyone Dandelion knew of. Except, of course, for the one person that Dandelion didn’t have the power to guide back to their right path. The one person who was given chance after chance after chance for a new start and yet never found their way out of the maze they were trapped in.

“He will come.” Their promise tasted like lightning and the soothing melody of a bubbling river. “You will be his second chance. Until then, let me be yours. I will keep you safe.”

The girl hesitated a moment longer. Then, she dropped the branch and flung herself into Dandelion’s arms, desperate not to be lost again.

Dandelion’s held her tightly, rapped his shadowy cloak around her and whispered soothingly into her hair. The embrace was like the feeling of when the fire stopped. At least that was how Dandelion imagined it must feel, when there were no flames coursing through their veins.

But they couldn’t truly know. After all, everyone was in this forest was lost in one way or another.

‘The girl in the woods will be with you always’

Renfri’s words echoed in Geralt’s mind as he limped onwards through the trees, ignoring the worried calls of the man who had taken him with him on his cart.

Geralt couldn’t waste a single moment longer by staying with him and his wife. His child surprise was out there somewhere, waiting for him. And Geralt…Geralt didn’t know what to do. He had to find her, had to make sure she was safe.

Yet he had no way of knowing where she even was, or if she was still alive. It was a miracle Geralt himself wasn’t dead yet.

You can be lost here.

Geralt’s head snapped up, his eyes darting across the trees sharply.

“Who’s there?” He called out. A mistake he wouldn’t have done if his mind had been clear and not muddled by ghoul poison.

For a long moment, there was no reply. Ever so slowly, Geralt tore his eyes from the darkness that lurked behind the trees. That’s when a different echo reached him.

Not Geralt of Rivia.

This voice sounded younger. Child-like.

“Ciri.” The name was but a breath on his lips, but he knew it in his heart to be true. Somehow, this voice was Ciri’s.

His staggering steps got faster, until he nearly ran. Geralt didn’t care about how the movement tore at his wound, how twigs whipped into his face, how his breath became shallow as black spots danced before his eyes.

He was urged onwards by the unbending certainty that Ciri was near, that he would finally find her.

People linked by destiny would always find each other.

But there was something else as well. A wildfire in his chest, a strand of shadow tugging him onward.

Geralt of Rivia.

The echo of his name rang through the woods, through the air and the inside of his head. Two voices. Ciri’s – and another one. A voice that sent shivers down Geralt’s spine.

The repeat of his name turned into a melody. A lullaby. A siren’s call.

Every instinct in him screamed to turn back, to get himself to safety. But instincts had been beaten out of him a long time ago.

His instinct had told him that his mother would take care of him.

His instinct had told him that he was loved.

His instinct had told him that there was nothing he could lose by calling upon the law of surprise.

But, oh, how he had lost. His mother, the woman he had thought he had loved, the certainty that he could keep walking the path that had been his only guidance since Vesemir had taken him to Kaer Morhen.

Geralt had lost, again and again, until he had become lost himself.

His chest became tight and he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the pressure building behind his eyes.

He was lost.

And yet he had no choice but to keep going. A haunting lullaby and his name on the wind forbid him from turning back.

He tried to orient himself on the rays of sun shining through the canopy of too-green leaves. Desperate to reach a path or a person that would make him not-lost again, Geralt ran until his breath turned into pants and his muscles protested. Witchers didn’t tire so easily. If need be, Geralt could fight for hours, stay up for days. Yet, no matter how much his body ached and protested, claiming it had been hours, days, weeks, the sun remained in his spot, never moving, as if no time was passing.

Geralt’s lungs were burning and the pain in his leg flared up with every step, until there were no more steps to take.

His knees gave out from under him and he collapsed, falling to his hands and knees onto the grass, the blades of which looked sharp as a sword but felt soft beneath his hands. Like a pillow to lay down on. Like an embrace. Like a home.

Witchers had no home. They only had the path, and yet, looking at this strange forest with its whispers and stagnant sun, Geralt had not even this.

“I am lost,” He called out, an act of pure desperation that never before had he allowed himself to admit to. His voice was raspy and scratched at his throat like shards of glass. As if he hadn’t uttered a single word for weeks.

Lost.

The haunting reply came in his own voice. A chill raced down Geralt’s spine and his fingers fisted into the grass, desperate to cling to something.

“I don’t know the way.”

Away.

An unshakable fear seized Geralt. He didn’t care how his voice broke, how his body was already broken.

“I need help.”

Witchers didn’t need help. They didn’t beg. And if they ever did, their pleas would go unheard.

Not so Geralt’s.

Something snapped to his right. He winced, his hand instinctively reaching for his silver sword. The medallion on his chest vibrated furiously.

He pushed himself to his feet, trembling with the effort, but unwilling to be on his knees like a condemned man waiting for his executioner.

The snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves stopped for a moment, a quiet laugh that sounded like water tumbling over rocks replaced the sounds.

“I found you.”

Geralt stiffened. It was the same voice as the first whisper he had heard – the voice that had lured him here. Only this time, it wasn’t a whisper on the wind. It was very real and far too close for comfort.

Witchers didn’t receive help. Whatever had answered his call must have darker intentions.

“Show yourself!” Geralt demanded, gripping his sword tighter.

For a moment, everything went still. No more whispers, no lullaby, not even the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Then, the bushes to Geralt’s right parted and someone stepped through. No, not someone. Something.

The creature in front of him looked how someone who had only ever seen a human’s shadow might imagine a human to look like. The being walking towards him was taller than any human could be, towering over Geralt. Their limbs were too long.

When their lips parted for a smile, the rows of teeth in them were sharp as a wolf’s.

“What are you?” The question left Geralt before he could think better of it.

The being cocked their head to the side curiously, too-blue eyes wandering over Geralt’s body, as if they didn’t even notice the sword pointed at them.

“I’m the Second Chance,” the being said, their eyes flashing with something Geralt didn’t dare name. “Yours, if you want me to be.”

“Who else’s second chance are you?” The question didn’t make sense, but Geralt had no control over his tongue. There was something about this creature – person? – that urged him to say things he didn’t understand. It was as if deep down, he already knew the answer, as if a part of him had known this person for a long time.

The being didn’t reply, but they raised their hands to their side and brushed lovingly over something. The air flickered in front of Geralt’s eyes, making him nauseous and dizzy, yet when he tried to look closer, he could only see shadow behind the creature. Until they flicked a hand behind them and the shadows parted, revealing a smaller figure. A girl with blonde hair that stared at Geralt with big green eyes.

Geralt sucked in a sharp breath.

It was Ciri. The one who had been lost to him.

And she was standing behind a creature powerful enough to lure even a witcher in. A creature who now placed a clawed hand on Ciri’s shoulder – the shoulder of the girl Geralt was sworn to protect.

“Let her go.” The demand left Geralt’s lips like a beast’s snarl.

“Go?” The being’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I made a promise to keep her with me. I don’t let any lost soul go.”

Their eyes bore into Geralt’s, searching through his soul, laying bare everything he was.

A boy, lost and abandoned by his mother.

A man who had lost a fight with the woman he thought he had loved – losing the fight, losing her, losing what he had been so sure had been love.

A human, who had lost his humanity.

Geralt, who was nothing but lost.

And there in front of him stood a creature who kept lost souls. The being sucked in a deep breath, closing their eyes as if they could taste all of Geralt’s losses.

They would keep him. Him and Ciri, damned forever to wander this cursed forest in which time stood still and echoes whispered into his heart.

He couldn’t let that come to pass. Not for Ciri.

Geralt knew his life was lost as well, even as he swung his sword. It didn’t matter. He had to save Ciri, had to get her out of this creature’s grasp.

There was a cry when his blade pierced the being’s chest. Was it his own cry or Ciri’s? Was the whole forest screaming as its master fell to their knees? There was only one voice who didn’t join the cry of agony. One, who was deadly silent, as life drained from it.

Blue eyes shot open, staring at the blade buried in the being’s chest with curiosity that quickly turned into resignation. For but a heartbeat, fear flickered in the being’s expression.

Fire blazed in those blue eyes. Fire poured forth from the wound instead of blood. Fire came to life in the being’s hair, searing the dandelion-yellow strands and racing over their body until all that was left of them was dancing flames.

Geralt watched in horror, as the flesh turned to ash before his very eyes. No, not ash. Dandelion seeds.

The wind picked up, tearing at Geralt’s hair, pushing him away, making the dandelion seeds tumble through the air in a wild dance.

Leaves tore from the trees, yellow flower petals, bits and pieces of the forest. All was dancing through the air, forming shapes and breaking apart again. The grass that had been so soft a moment before, shot up, grew faster and higher than any plant could, forming the shape of legs, of a torso, of a head. And still the leaves whirled through the air, obscuring the sight to the body that formed right in front of Geralt’s eyes.

A pit opened in Geralt’s stomach and the realisation of what this meant crashed into him with the force of a cockatrice slamming into its prey.

The being wasn’t dead. But it was only a matter of time before Geralt was, dying at the hand of the creature he couldn’t kill.

Geralt’s sword slipped out of his limp grasp, landing on the ground with a soft thud.

Geralt followed a moment after, his knees hitting the ground once more. This time, his executioner wouldn’t hesitate.

Geralt couldn’t protect his child surprise. Not in the years to come. But there was one thing he could do in this moment, one last act of desperation to save a life that he had always been meant to guard with his own.

“I make you a bargain!” Geralt’s voice got drowned in the howling of the wind, and yet, the ever-changing shape of the being turned towards him. Geralt’s throat went dry, his chest tightening. “My life for hers.” Through the whirlwind of leaves and blossoms, Geralt met Ciri’s gaze. Her eyes were wide and terrified. She was his to save. “Take my life and give the girl back hers. Let her go.”

Geralt bowed his head, awaiting judgement. For failing Ciri. For failing Vesemir and not being able to kill this creature. For failing himself. For losing, just when he had finally found the girl he had been looking for.

The wind didn’t falter, yet it changed course. The petals drew closer together, reaching towards Geralt like a hand.

A soft touch brushed his chin, tilting his head upwards, forcing him to look at the swirling shapes before him.

Though the being had no lips yet, their voice was clear and crushingly loud, coming from all around him. Every tree, every blade of grass, the very air spoke with the being’s voice. “Oh, but I don’t even care about my own life, why would I care about yours?”

Despite the roaring volume, the voice was achingly soft, like sweet nothings whispered in Geralt’s ear. The petals brushed Geralt’s cheek like a lover’s caress.

Geralt’s heart pounded in his chest, like a drum, growing faster each second, it’s rhythm dictated by the song that made this creature be.

“There must be something – how can a life be meaningless to you?” Geralt’s voice broke and his eyes flickered over to Ciri again. The child he hadn’t wanted. The life he had tried to push as far from his path as he could.

A sharp sound pierced the air, reverberating in Geralt’s bones. Only when it cut off abruptly, did Geralt recognise it. A laugh, devoid of life or joy.

“I am a phoenix, my dear.” The endearment cut into Geralt, broke him apart, made him wish that he could be more – that he could be found. “Death is just an insect to me – it stings, but has no lasting effect.”

“Liar.” The rasped out word cut through the symphony of sound.

Within the blink of an eye, everything around him stilled. The wind was still moving the petals and leaves. The being’s shape was still changing, and yet, there was no sound. Nothing, but Geralt’s own heartbeat and his blood rushing in his ears.

Then-

“What did you call me?”

It was only a single voice, within Geralt’s mind. A helpless desperation clung to it. A hunger.

“I called you a liar.”

“I cannot lie.”

Geralt’s jaw clenched and he forced himself to stare up at the swirling shape.

“Then you are a fool, if you truly believe your own words.” His hands trembled and he had to clench them into fists. Each word he spoke, dug his own grave deeper and yet, he couldn’t stop. It was as if there was something tying him to this creature, something telling him that he could know them, just as he was certain the creature knew him. “If death is like the sting of an insect to you, then it is more than just a passing irritation. Adults still remember when they had been stung by a bee as a child. Warriors flinch back from wasps, even knowing the stinging will pass. Gnat’s bites will itch for weeks.”

“Pretty words for a man who had first used his sword before attempting to speak. Yet the cut of your words hurts me as little as your sword did.” The caress of the petals left Geralt and he nearly found himself following their receding touch. “I do not care for my death, nor do I for my life.”

“Then why am I still alive? If life and death doesn’t matter to you, then why did you not just end mine?”

Unless…

I don’t even care about my own life, why would I care about yours?

They had never said they didn’t care about Geralt’s life. It had been a question – unable to either be a lie or a truth.

The only life they didn’t care about was their own.

It didn’t make sense. And yet, as minutes, days, an eternity passed and the being still hadn’t taken on a new shape, a vessel for their new life, no doubt was left in Geralt’s mind.

“Then let me give you something else,” Geralt whispered, his mind racing. In the stories, the creatures entrapping children in their realm and bargaining for their lives only ever wanted one thing. “If you let her go, I will give you my name.”

Something changed in the air. An almost palpable tension pressed down on Geralt, making it hard to notice anything around him but the dancing petals.

“Oh, my White Wolf.” The name the being spoke wasn’t Geralt’s name, and yet Geralt felt a tugging in his chest, a soothing caress, a gentle promise. It felt like his. And it felt like the being’s. “I already have your name.”

“Then what do you want? What…” Geralt trailed off, only now noticing the hint of something heavy in the being’s voice. It had Geralt’s name. Yet, Geralt had no way of referring to the creature. He didn’t know them. Perhaps no one did. “Then I give you permission to tell me your name. You may let me get to know you. You may ask to not be…to not be lost without anyone knowing who you are.”

Yearning. Hope. Helplessness.

How a being without a form could make their emotions so apparent, was beyond Geralt, but there was no denying it. The air felt lighter, the grass brighter and the silence was replaced by a soft humming, not unlike the lullaby Geralt had heard earlier. The forest was pulsating like a heart, was living off of the being’s longing to be found.

“I can’t give you my name,” the being said. “I can’t ask of you to hear it. I don’t want you to know it. I care not for my life, nor any life I’ve lived before.”

Something rose in Geralt’s chest. A fluttering, a certainty.

People linked by destiny would always find each other. This wasn’t destiny. It wasn’t any outside force pushing them together. It was two people being lost, finding each other.

Two creatures, inhuman in their own way, feared by those who didn’t understand with no one to care enough about who they were. Neither of them had had a choice in who they wanted to become. Neither of them had chosen to be lost as they were.

The witcher, who’s name had been replaced by a hated moniker. People didn’t know him as Geralt. He was the Butcher of Blaviken.

And this being before him - this Second Chance? Who had they been? Who could they have been if they had the chance to start a life that wasn’t dictated by what they were meant to be?

“I can be your second chance,” Geralt prayed that he could be what he promised, knowing in his heart that he could. “If you won’t take my name and won’t tell me yours… I can give you a name. A new life that will be more than an itch left by an insect. More than the fear of that short sting that will end it.”

The yellow petals were back on Geralt’s face, cupping his cheeks almost reverently. In that moment, Geralt wasn’t a condemned man on the execution block anymore. He was a man on his knees, asking another being to start a new life, to bind them together in a way that felt utterly right for a reason Geralt couldn’t understand.

There was a plea in the silent touch.

“Tell it to me then.” The voice was quieter than it had been before, yet it felt more urgent than the loudest cry.

Geralt lifted his hand, laying it carefully onto the petals touching his cheeks. Yellow petals. Not tough like a dandelion forcing its way through stone paths, set on coming back to life again and again. No, these petals were different. Softer. Fragile.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, his voice laced with power he hadn’t known it could possess. Louder, he repeated, “Jaskier. I have found you. You are no longer lost.”

A tremble went through the forest. The wind stilled, but the petals didn’t fall to the ground. Instead, they finally settled on a shape.

The petals caressing Geralt’s cheeks were the first to turn, their touch becoming more solid, warmer, human.

Geralt pressed into the touch, holding the hand that formed in his. Dizziness swept over him as the form before him solidified. Green leaves turned brown as they did in autumn and turned into hair. Petals became red and gave shape to a mouth that was stretched into a radiant smile. Grass turned into fabric, dressing the person whose life was just beginning in an embroidered doublet. A tree bent down, its bark peeling off and turning into an instrument, that the person deftly caught in one hand, the other never straying from Geralt’s face.

Then, the human opened their eyes. Blue again but lacking the eerie otherness. And yet, they were brighter than before, so full of life and for once filled with anticipation of what this life would bring.

This life that Geralt had given them.

Before Geralt stood no longer a phoenix, a creature with no name. They were their own second chance. They were Jaskier.

Even as Ciri rushed from behind Jaskier and flung herself into Geralt’s arms, the witcher couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jaskier.

The new human looked at Ciri with a fond expression on their face, and yet there was a strain around their eyes.

When their gazes met, Jaskier’s lips tugged into a small smile.

“I guess I kept my promise then,” they said in a voice that held no power, but made Geralt’s heart skip a beat nonetheless. “I kept he safe until she was found.”

Geralt’s brows drew together. “You intended to let her go? Then why –“

“I didn’t bargain her life,” Jaskier said softly. “She was free to go whenever she pleased. I – I wasn’t. You gave me my life and I give it back to you. If you want it.”

Without thinking, Geralt shook his head and tightened his arms around Ciri.

“I don’t want your life. It is yours.”

“Oh.”

Jaskier’s lips moved silently, forming the word ‘mine’, as if testing it out for the first time. A smile lit up their face, making their eyes brighter.

“If my life is mine, does that mean, I can choose where I want to go?”

Something twisted in Geralt’s chest at those words. “You are.” Had Jaskier only ever known this forest? If so… “Do you know any place besides this? Will you…if you leave on your own, will you get lost again?”

A gleam entered Jaskier’s eyes and they slung the strap of their lute around their neck, their fingers finding the strings of their new lute.

“I won’t,” they said, their face set in conviction. “Because if I get to choose where I am going, I will be following you, Geralt of Rivia, my White Wolf.”

Unlike before, there was no power to the way Jaskier spoke his name.

“White Wolf?”

Jaskier’s lips twitched and he plucked a couple of chords experimentally. “You have me a new name. If you don’t want my life, the least I can do is return the favour and give you a new one two. A name, people won’t curse. One that will no longer belong to a lost man.”

No longer a Butcher. No longer a mutant, bastard, monster!

Slowly, Geralt nodded. “A life for a life, then.”

“A life for a life.” Jaskier’s expression softened. “A name for a name.”

Two lost people finding each other, silently promising each other to do everything in their power to not let the other get lost again.

#thank you for the prompt!!#fae!jaskier #fey!jaskier #*gestures vaguely*!Jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #creature!jaskier #fic #my writing #witcher #the witcher #witcher fic #prompt #ciri #geraskier #kinda #i have no idea what this is but it was fun to write

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serenityseventeen · 3 years

Text

DK (이석민):

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“Star (3)”

synopsis: Seokmin has returned to the castle alone and locked into a cell for two weeks, where he gets the time to think about you and life. However, after those two weeks of being held in a cell, the first thing he does is escape the castle again, going off to find you.

parts: 1 - “Star” | 2 - “Star (2)” | 3 - “Star (3)”

warnings: injuries/wounds, blood, witholding someone in a cell, and butterflies and horses(?)

genre: royal!au, romance

characters: prince!seokmin x peasant!reader, ft. prince!seventeen members

word count: around 5k

a/n: happy birthday to seungkwan and sungjin again!!! this part ended up a bit longer than I thought and all of the parts of this fic would amount to around 10k; I didn't know if I should have added more (like more fluff) at the end... + kdrama update: I am watching 'the one and only' (it's so gooood the chemistry is off the charts and of course kim! kyeong! nam!!!!) and 'bad and crazy'!!!

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“I need to go out there again.”

Mr. Kim's eyes widened in surprise. He couldn't allow the prince to go out there again. Word of his escape had reached many kingdoms across the world already. Of he went out again, it would not be good for the prince, even if his intentions were not bad.

“I'm sorry, your majesty, but the king has made it clear that you shall never sneak out again. However, I do have to thank you for not exposing the secret tunnel, for if you did, I would never be able to see my wife and son.” Mr. Kim smoothed the prince's white shirt.

“You don't need to thank me. I'm the one who needs to thank you for letting me use the passage...” Seokmin was feeling guilty for having his most trusted servant, who was like a friend, go through hard times because of him.

After Seokmin returned to the kingdom on his own, Mr. Kim was put into confinement for a few days as punishment for not watching the prince well enough and allowing him to escape. Less than 4 days later, he was released because Seokmin told the king bravely for the millionth time that he'd take full responsibility.

That's how Seokmin got locked up for two weeks that went by like a year.

When he was locked up, he finally realized that the scenario he was in (being locked up) was the best he could get at if he wanted to feel what it was like to live like you.

The king found it too hard to watch his son being behind bars. The original punishment would be to have food portions and clothing reduced, have hands bound by chains, and ankles strapped to the bed. Seokmin wanted to know the worse of it; that was the only way he could think of to be able to understand you. However, the king always insisted on only having his leg bound; Seokmin was still given nice meals and sufficient clothing.

While in the cold stone prison underground with barely any light flowing in and only a small window the size of his head, Seokmin thought a lot about you. As the winter days passed he found his heart aching, maybe missing that short time he spent with you. He was eager to go out again, even if he was barefoot. He wanted to see if you were still living in that barely warm enough, tiny shack in the middle of the woods. He wondered if you were still stealing bread to survive. He wanted to see you again. Despite the time having been short, there was a small spark inside his chest from the memories that aroused the desire of wanting to see you again. Most of all, he wanted to ask why you didn't come with him to turn him in.

To fight the boredom inside the cell, Seokmin sang songs. He would make up lyrics about his wretching heart, about the poverty he witnessed, about the person he met while out there, about love.

Some days, his singing would echo through the castle and his younger brother, Seungkwan, would make his way down to sing a duet. Some days, Seungkwan would invite Jihoon, Jisoo, and Jeonghan to come along and sing as well. The five singing brothers would make songs in secret and sing happily, with smiles spread across their faces, without the king knowing.

On the day before his release, the king came to visit him in his lonely prison that smelled only of stone.

“Seokmin,” the king said, his voice gentle. “How did you escape without Mr. Kim knowing?”

“I stole his son's clothes and climbed over the grape vines at the back of the castle. I gave him one of the sleeping pills I acquired from the doctor when he came to visit Seungcheol. He fell asleep and I left.” The story was packed with lies.

“Okay, then why did you leave the castle while knowing the dangers out there? What made you think you should?”

“I realized one day that I don't see enough of the kingdom I am a prince of. I wanted to see the world and what it's like. Venturing with Seungcheol on horses only gave me a glimpse.”

The king stayed quiet so the son continued.

“Do you know what kind of world you're ruling?” Seokmin turned to his father and glared at him daringly. The king was surprised to find his son's new nature but at the same time, he wasn't. “There are people out there who are barely living lives. We have this whole kingdom filled with flourish yet while out there, can you guess what I saw and experienced, dad?”

Another bit of silence passed by.

“I saw them. They were poor. Not only that but because they were poor, everyone immediately assumed they were bad people, and they have no choice but to be bad. They barely have any to eat, the place they sleep is colder than this cell!” For the first time, Seokmin had exploded in anger in front of his father. “This is the world you have been keeping from us!”

“Seokmin, you are too naive,” The king said simply. “What do you think you saw? A piece of your kingdom or your whole kingdom?”

The king let out a sigh and pressed his face against the iron bars that seperated him and his son. Seokmin was sitting on the bed, his anger dissipated.

“What I, as a king need to do is focus on the majority of people, do you get that? There will be people who are unfortunate, that's just how life is, a balance between lucky and unlucky. Do you know why people die?”

“‘To bring equality to life,’” Seokmin recited. He remembered that line well because that was what his father always said.

“Among the rich, there is also poor. There is simply nothing you can do about it. Some people are born poor and some make mistakes in life and become poor, just like how some people are rich and some become rich. Are you going to show sympathy for every peasant in your kingdom?” The king placed one hand on the bars of iron. “I told you, a king does not need love but he can't have hatred. A king does not need to be generous and sympathetic but he should be feared and wise. You are not fit for a king.”

“I don't care about being a king,” Seokmin snapped, getting up from the bed with his fists tightly closed. “I don't want to become one. I know I'm not someone who is fit for it. I just know that I don't want my kingdom scattered and innocent people being looked down on just because of their class. You can be a ruthless soul but I cannot because I have a heart. I just want to help those people. When I do, I know I'll be a better person than the king who overlooks it.”

The king just shook his head and with his hands brought behind his back, he quietly turned away from the cell. There was no guilt anymore for he had seen it from the beginning.

It was hard to be a king but it was even harder in the beginning.

Seokmin felt bad for Mr. Kim. He felt that he was putting Mr. Kim in danger but he had to get back out there. He didn't want to be trapped in his own home anymore. He wanted to see you too.

So, when Mr. Kim fell asleep, Seokmin did not hesitate to leave. He changed into a fresh pair of silky clothing and grabbed a backpack, packing clothing, new shoes, a first-aid kit, food from the kitchen, and money. He didn't really know what he was doing anymore and why he was doing it but there was just a calling or a ringing, inside his chest, asking for him to pick up.

It was dawn when he left through the secret passageway. He emerged from the ground and he could see the bricks of the townhouses. Seokmin made his way over there and tried to trace his steps from 2 weeks ago. If there was any place he'd find you, it'd be the shack.

The sun was rising beautifully, painting red across the sky as Seokmin walked through the park with the cobblestone bridge and river of koi fish. He recalled the memories he made with you and that made his heart flutter, his hands grip onto the straps of his backpack, and his mouth grin shyly.

After passing a field of green, he was approaching the rocks that blocked the river water passage. He hadn't reached the location yet but remembered hopping upon each one like a frog, skipping on the stones with you.

When he passed the flower fields and came across the gigantic rocks, he smiled. It was you, swinging your feet back and forth, the back of your heel hitting the stone and then the tip of your old raggedy shoes getting drenched. You were humming.

“Y/N,” Seokmin called out. His heart was racing, just the sight of you made him want to go crazy and run around the fields like a loose puppy. He had been waiting for this moment when you two would see each other again.

He took a few more steps but your voice snapping caught him off guard. “Stop, don't come.”

“What?” Seokmin wondered out loud. For the first time in 2 weeks, he escaped and managed to find you again but the first thing you said was for him to not approach you? Of course, Seokmin knew that you probably weren't aware of his feelings, but still, he felt a bit disappointed. “W-Why?”

“Just because.”

When Seokmin returned to the castle by himself, you stayed at the shack, deep in thought. Though getting the reward would have made your life much easier, you couldn't find the bravery to accept the offer, which was ridiculous because you had always been known for your bravery. It was something hard to explain.

As days passed by, Seokmin never returned. You never heard or saw him but at times you'd catch wind of gossip and overheard from the silk weavers that he was placed in a large cell. You felt bad for him while not knowing why.

You felt regret for not taking the money too but it was like convincing yourself you lied when you told the truth. If the choice was given again, you knew deep down that no matter how much you needed the money, you wouldn't take it.

The stash of food stolen from peasants was growing low. As the winter days grew colder, it was much harder to find food while your body grew numb and closer to freezing. There was always one place warm with food; the bakery.

You got a few loaves, enough for the young children for a few days, even if it costed a slash on your arm and deep scratch on your cheek. Your brother could not steal from the hospital and no one had the money to pay for bills. Out of luck, his four fingers wrapped a cloth around your arm and face. It was quite uncomfortable.

You spent many days waking up at dawn. You didn't quite know why. Some days it'd be midnight rising and some days it would be dawn sleeping. You just kept thinking early in the dawn or late into the night about life, about peasants, about the kingdom, the king, and his 8th son, Seokmin.

You didn't expect to see or hear Seokmin, a prince, again. When he did show up, it was when you had an ugly and prominent cut across your face and bleeding arm that was too numb for stinging pain. You didn't want him to see you even if you badly wanted to turn to face him and look into those glittery puppy eyes and catch his lovely smile again.

“Is something wrong?” Seokmin asked after a moment of silence with only the sound of river running passing through. “I came because I—I wanted to see you. I also wanted to know more... about your world. I also have a lot of things I wanted to tell and ask you.”

You smiled. Hearing his voice was like listening to a comforting melody. “Why would you though? There's nothing here to see.”

“No, there is. You showed me so many things the last time we met and I want to know more. I want to know how I can help and what I can do for you.” Seokmin took a step forward and inch by inch, he was getting closer to you without you knowing. You just continued to stare blankly at the river that seemed endless looking like you were about to cry.

“You know, after meeting you that day and having you disappear for two weeks, I thought I'd forget about you already. I thought that meeting you wasn't that big of a deal but every day and night, I kept thinking about you—your life and mine,” You didn't know why the tells were welling. “I really can't understand anything.”

Seokmin had closed the distance while you buried yourself in your hands. His heart was drumming, not with flutters, but with ache.

“I just want to know why, what did I do to deserve such a life as this when everyone is living perfectly fine? I've tried before, to get a job, work and learn, but they all said the same thing: ‘you bring bad luck’, ‘the customers don't like you’, ‘you don't know how to do anything right, must be because you're a peasant’.”

Your words were muffled and for the first time, you could feel the pain in your arm as your raised it to cover your eyes. Seokmin had sat down next to you, on the big cold gray rock.

“I'm sorry for all that you had to go through,” Seokmin said quietly. “I want to change it. I want to know how to effectively change your life and the people who depend on you and that shack. My dad isn't giving in to any of it though.”

“It's not his fault,” You continued, sniffling as the tears dried against your palm, letting out a soft groan of pain. “It's just how the world is.”

When your face emerged from your palms, you could see his feet, dangling next to yours. His pants were of fabric you'd never seen before. His shoes were leather and neat and shiny.

Your eyes traveled to his shirt, white without creases, his sleeves folded to his elbows, decorated with buttons down the middle. Inside wasn't a feeling of envy, you just felt terrible inside, wondering what it'd feel like if you could see your brother wear something like that; so graceful, matching his figure.

Eventually, your eyes went from his neck, chin, lips, nose, and eyes, where your gazes locked. His eyes were shimmering a golden brown in the sunrise but without it would be brown like chestnuts.

Seokmin's eyes darted away after a few seconds. He shrieked with panic after seeing the scratch on your face that had yet to be fully healed. Your arm had cold blood trickling down to your fingertips.

“Y/N!” He grabbed your face gently with his warm and soft hands, his caring touch and warmth spreading all throughout your body. You felt the strength to smile. “Are you okay?”

You nodded and proceeded to explain that it was just a small scratch from the baker. “Even if I die, I can't let the kids die. Even if they grow up with no progress in becoming something more than a peasant, like me, I know one day at least one of their worlds will be changed. That's like saving a soul.”

His thumb caressed your cheek and his eyes were sad with tears. You were slightly confused as to why he was beginning to cry.

The blood soaked into your shirt and Seokmin had to notice it. He didn't scold you or anything, just, while holding your hand, took out a white box from his backpack and told you to stay still. He applied cleaned the wound on your arm, applied ointment on it, and bandaged it, all while crying softly.

You had to wipe his tears from time to time.

After he finished treating your wounds, he closed the box and put it away, saying quickly, “I knew I should have brought this first-aid kit.”

Seeing those drops of water come from his eyes made you feel like your heart had been stabbed deeply.

He pulled you into a warm, tight hug, whispering about how glad he was to see you again. It had been a while since someone hugged you that hard, like they were never going to let go.

It was a different kind of pain, seeing Seokmin cry.

Seokmin wanted to know your favorite place in the world so you took him to the butterfly haven. A luxurious field of only nearly dead dandelions, a few trees, grass, and tons and tons of butterflies. You could see the butterflies from far away, they swarmed the field like bees in a hive. The place was popular on weekends but not on weekdays, the walk to get there was way too long.

“Why do you like this place?” Seokmin asked, while picking a dandelion. The fragile butterflies fluttered their wings, flying from one side to the opposite, circling around flowers and the two of you.

“It's the prettiest thing I've ever seen.” You replied with a smile, trying to refrain from scratching your arm wound. “I don't see many beautiful things. It's also one of those places that continue to bloom instead of dying. It's already the beginning of winter but look at these dandelions and butterflies.”

Seokmin smiled while seeing you smile. It was crazy because butterflies should have already began migration.

“You know, there's something crazy about how we're looking at each other right now,” Seokmin said out of the blue. Your eyes were on each other.

“What's crazy about it?” You asked.

“I don't know how to say.” He looked away.

You laughed and the two of you leaned against one of the smaller trees, looking at the butterflies. You told him stories of your childhood and he laughed along to your humor. Seokmin told you about the lack of butterflies in the castle, that only a few would fly above the wall and wander around for a bit during the floral season.

Gazing at clouds was a new kind of activity for Seokmin. You told him that you often would stare into the sky and test your imagination, trying to figure out what each unique and absurd cloud shape could be if it were an object. Seokmin also found that activity fun.

Maybe everything with you was fun, especially when you were looking at him, making him feel free like a soaring eagle, and happy.

You introduced Seokmin to a game that the peasants played whenever they were bored. The children of the shack taught you it. It was a simple game; pluck a leaf from a tree and try to break it into as many pieces as you could. Seokmin found the game frustrating as the pieces he broke off of the leaf would blow with the wind. He lost every game and applauded the children for playing such a game.

Seokmin had packed food inside his backpack and said he wanted to share it with you. You refused at first but eventually caved in. It was the best meal you've ever had, or rather, the first meal you've ever had. There were side dishes, rice, and a main dish. You felt the urge to devour it all but decided not to because you wanted to share.

“I think this is the least prince-like I've been,” Seokmin said as you two watched the sun disappear behind a hill. It was kind of hard to believe you two spent your entire day walking and in a dandelion field of butterflies. “I really love it.”

“What do you mean by ‘prince-like’?” You asked.

The two of you were crisscrossed, sitting on the grass.

“Elegant, brave, intelligent, and obeying but also strong enough to make their own decisions.”

“I think you're like a prince,” You smiled at him and Seokmin smiled back at you. “But most of all, you just remind me of a human.”

“Of course,” Seokmin wanted to hold your hand but decided against it. “I am a human.”

“Do you have a dream?” You asked suddenly, plucking a dandelion. They always looked so furry and like little white pom poms but the one you picked was slightly brown and more crunchy than soft.

“I want to sing.”

“Then sing for me.”

That's how you met the voice of heaven from the mouth of an angel.

After finding out that Seokmin had left, Mr. Kim reported it to military leader Seungcheol, who informed the king. Seungcheol advised a search for the runaway prince.

“It's only been two weeks since Seokmin's first runaway,” Seungcheol said, looking up at his father who was sitting on the diamond throne. “He can be in grave danger. Seokmin is not well knowledgeable regarding the area and he can easily pass the border into the kingdom of Ruqy or Mez.”

“Seungcheol-ah,” his father began, his fingers tapping on the chair of the throne. “What do you think I should do regarding the peasants? It's not a large problem yet but I don't want it to be one in the future. As the oldest son, what do you think we, the kingdom, should do?”

Seungcheol stayed quiet for a minute. “I talked to Wonwoo about this. He said that ‘a king who neglects a fraction of his kingdom is not a king... the generosity and will of giving is a future threat as it is impossible to do and be perfectly both, thus, one shall never be too kind’.”

The king smiled fatherly at his son but did not say anything further until his sigh broke the silence.

“Let's find Seokmin. I want to talk to him.”

Walking back to the shack was going to take a while considering the time you and Seokmin departed the butterfly haven. It was already dark but thankfully, the path was lit by tall street lamps.

Seokmin said that his brother, Jisoo, who recently came back from dealing with an overseas alliance, was the one who suggested lighting up singular dirt paths like the one you two were walking on; he even made the design for the street lamp.

“I know it's a bit late to say this,” You said quietly, your feet and his rubbing against the dirt pavement. “But I'm sorry for what I said two weeks ago, before you told me to turn you in. It's crazy, we've technically only known each other for two days, but I feel such a large connection with you.”

“My brother Myungho told me that if you think about someone a lot and they're on your mind often, it feels like you spent time with them when you were just reminiscing,” Seokmin said. The mention of his brothers made him faintly smile. He loved his brothers with all of his heart but he felt bad for escaping the castle and hiding within his own kingdom.

“I guess—well, I did think about you a lot if I'm honest.”

“I thought about you too,” Seokmin tried to say it confidently but ended up getting embarrassed and shy. He hit himself at the side of his head and looked down as his ears turned bright red like a strawberry.

“Look,” you said quietly, coming to a stop in the middle of the empty dirt path. Your head turned to face the sky, you smiled, seeing the millions of stars brightening up the black. “Look at the stars, Seokmin.”

Seokmin lifted his head and was amazed when he saw the stars. They were just simply dazzling, each one of them.

“Now, I suddenly feel the want to make a wish.”

Seokmin smiled and turned to see you already with your eyes closed.

“Then, let's make a wish.”

He didn't look at the stars nor put his hands in a praying gesture. He just couldn't take his eyes off you. The only wishes he could come up with did not include singing or his kingdom. His mind just kept repeating one wish inside his head, ‘Y/N, Y/N, Y/N’.

“Seokmin, what did you wish for?” You asked, opening your eyes slowly. You didn't stop looking at the stars though.

“How about you go first?”

“To sleep better. For the past two weeks, my sleep schedule has been fucked up. Now, how about you?” The wind gave a slight chill.

“I don't know,” Seokmin replied honestly. At that answer, you turned to him with an amused and attractive half-smile. “I just kept thinking of how beautiful you look.”

“Seokmin—”

“I really like it when you call my name. The only people who do that are my brothers and my parents.”

You chuckled and looked at him in the eyes. “We've known each other for two days.”

“Yeah,” Seokmin grinned, his smile so dreamy that it made your heart melt. Your heart could only jump afterwards because Seokmin continued and said, “but we've been thinking about each other for two weeks.”

“I like that you've become more confident, you barely stutter anymore.”

“I also like that you smile a lot more,” Seokmin said, smiling with his hands shyly on his backpack straps.

Both of you laughed as each star in the sky twinkled.

Seokmin had never seen anyone shine as bright as you.

“Seokmin hyung! It's you, isn't it!?” The calling was from the side of the dirt path the two of you were heading. It was Chan's voice.

The clicking sound of horse hooves grew cleared and Seokmin knew he wasn't going to run away. You just watched in awe as the horse grew closer. It was Seokmin's horse that Chan was riding on.

“Chan...” Seokmin let out very quietly.

“So you were here! And you're with—” Chan stopped his sentence and hopped off his horse. There were three other soldiers on horses that followed behind Chan. “Dad wants to talk to you. Please stop leaving home without any notice, we were all so worried about you!”

Seokmin apologized quietly but quickly glanced at you, who was just staring back at Seokmin.

“Hurry, get on your horse,” Chan said, mumbling how much he was worried for his brother.

“Wait,” Seokmin said slowly. “This is Y/N and I'm taking them too. It's a long way back, you see.”

Chan nodded in agreement and quickly swapped places with one of the soldiers as they joined a different soldier. You were reluctant to get on the horse but Seokmin assured you that it was his horse who knew him better than any other animal.

You took his backpack around your back, took his hand, and boarded the horse and wrapped your arms around his waist hesitantly.

“It'll be a bit weird at first, but don't worry, I'll try to make it a comfortable jog.”

The king was smiling when Seokmin entered the throne room.

“Who did you bring with you?”

“The person who showed me the world,” Seokmin smiled at his father for a short second. He was in a surprisingly great mood but knew that he also did something bad. “I'm sorry for leaving the kingdom again.”

“No, it's fine, I just wanted to talk,” Seokmin's father said with a smile. The king was also in a surprisingly great mood. “You do know that I became the king of Svuentin at age 17, right, son?”

Seokmin nodded.

“At 17, I was still like a kid inside but I was forced to be mature. I had to take care of my kingdom. Anybody could have killed me, I was just a kid. I learned to fight, read, and learned from textbooks. I was focused on being a good king by learning to be good at everything; nobody could possibly hate me if I were a perfectionist.”

Seokmin's father took a quick sip of water from an expensive mug.

“That is not the way for me to rule. I, thankfully, recognized the faults in my kingdom. The fault was not just me but my people, they were uncontrollable. Some babies were born without enough milk or warmth during the winters but some were born with so much milk they grow chubby, so much warmth they grow sick of it. Seokmin, my son, you reminded me so much of myself, you know that?”

Seokmin blinked. His hands were clasped together respectively. He was drawn into his father's story.

“And of course, it's not easy being a king. I realized that there were people who didn't get enough though they deserved more and people who got too much yet didn't deserve that much. I tried to change it and I had a few ideas; build houses for them and give them money; give them food and offer them a job in the army...”

The king paused. “I wanted to help them in any way that I could. I was guilty, as a king, because a part of me knew that my people were not living nice lives and that I was partially responsible for it. I was feeling pity because I couldn't do anything effective. In the end, I just avoided it. When it did come up again, I let it go.”

Seokmin wanted to talk but found himself silenced, also wanting to hear more.

“Do you know what your grandfather told me?” The king sighed. “that a good king will be good because of their length of rule. But, I don't think that's true. For the past 50 years I have been king, I just simply kept our world going, but does that make me a good king? That's why I am going to change and relieve my guilt with the help of you, my son.”

Seokmin found himself smiling.

“I'll open free schools and libraries. I'll tell people the consequences of beating other people, no matter what class. I'll try my best to include that part of my society that was segregated. I'm going to try again to fix the problem. That's alI have to confess to you, son.”

Seokmin walked closer to the throne with a slight smile, his eyes down.

“I have something to confess too,” Seokmin said quietly. “the person I brought with me... I think I—”

“If you're worried about the arranged marriage I was going to have you do, don't worry about it.”

“What?”

The king chuckled at his flustered son. “That's right, though I'm not sure you were aware. I was going to have you marry the princess that Jisoo met overseas, but I think the doctor should be done treating your person. Their arm wound was pretty harsh. Why don't you go take a look?”

“R-really?” At this, Seokmin was gleefully smiling.

“Yes, punk. 12 out of 13 times arranged marriages don't work anyway.”

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