#the gamble of ''well maybe if they were really willing to hurt me further and felt they could get away with it they'd do it and not just

[algolstare]

what if the real motivation to disobey was the feeling of impending doom cuz of all the threats and fear along the way

[hypmicdaydreams]

𝗟𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗺

-pairing: dice arisugawa x gn!reader

-genre: fluff (?), a bit of gambling action

-summary: dice’s lucky dice have lost their charm and no longer work; however, he’s sure that you’re his one true good luck charm, though you’re skeptical about that

-word count: 6.3k

it was such a common sight that you had grown accustomed to in the past few months that you had dated dice, yet it never failed to surprise you each and every time at just how careless he could be. dice, on his hands and knees before you, was, yet again, begging you to spare him just a few more yen so that he could go to the pachinko parlor down the street and try his hand at the new machine that they had just installed. he swore that he’d get a jackpot this time, he felt it in his gut. lady luck was finally on his side. how many times has he claimed that though? surely over a hundred by now, considering that this sight happened about three or four times a week. 

“pleeeeease y/n. i just need a few yen. i just know that i’ll hit the jackpot for sure this time! i promise to pay you back.” 

a sigh escaped your lips as you heard those words again, glancing at your hopeless boyfriend. he really did have zero shame bowing down on the ground like that, begging for a few scraps of money to feed his gambling addiction. surely his debt with you racked up close to thousands of yen by now, and that was probably a generous estimate. it’s not like you minded though. you had no doubt, however, that dice would pay you back if he won big.

if.

dice’s luck wasn’t exactly the best lately, having lost everything he’s managed to save up in a matter of minutes. then again, you couldn’t quite recall when the last time his luck ever was good. it seemed to just be a string of bad luck for dice, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the bad luck spell he was in. surely it must’ve taken a toll on him, right? maybe he’d stop gambling for a bit, try to save up some money first rather than betting something so obscure and irrational, like his life (you’re still astounded by the fact that he bet his life just to get a hypnosis microphone). but dice just loved proving you wrong. see, dice wasn’t a rational person, not in the slightest. logic and reason bothered him to no end, so he defied the odds. i mean, what fun would life be if everything was meticulously calculated. every day would be the same dull and lifeless routine, and dice hated the mere thought of such a lifestyle. you didn’t mind his outlook on life at all, in fact, you even supported it to a degree. you just wished he’d be more careful with his, er, hobbies.

“didn’t you say that the last time though?”

“er-” dice flinched once he realized he’d been caught red-handed, having been shoved into a corner by the very thing he hated: logic. “w-well ya, but! i really do think i’ll win big this time. it’s a gut feeling.” ugh, you grew to despise that word: gut feeling. everything was always determined by either luck or his gut when it came to dice. it was truly spectacular, really. you did love dice, you really did, but you couldn’t help but be concerned for him. his gambling tendencies were just a bit too much at times.

you had tried to ignore his pleas, tried your hardest to set your foot down and not give in to those puppy dog eyes he loved to use. it hurt to see that you were only feeding his gambling addiction rather than try to help him solve it. at that moment, however, seeing dice begging on his hands and knees and the look of desperation in his eyes overrid your sense of judgement. it hurt even more to see just how desperate he was for a couple hundred yen. he just tug on your heartstrings like that! 

“well...fine.” you couldn’t help but stifle a giggle when you saw just how quickly dice’s expression changed from desperation to one of excitement. if he had a tail, you swore it’d be wagging. deep down, you scolded yourself for once again falling for his tactics, but could you really blame yourself? dice was just too lovable to turn down. “but on one condition.” 

“hm?” 

“you take me with you.” you really couldn’t predict how dice would take this news, but you certainly weren’t expecting him to smile even wider. i mean, why would he even want you in the same vicinity when he was gambling, especially when there was a large chance he’d lose yet again, and after having begged you for money once more. yet, that sounded like quite a deal to dice, who was practically over the moon at this point. not only does he get to feel the thrill of gambling once more, but he also gets to enjoy it with his lovely partner. it was like killing two birds with one stone. maybe you’d even begin to understand his love of the thrill. ooo, this was so exciting!

“heh, is that all?” to be honest, dice was expecting a much worse condition, such as never cooking for him again if he lost or never gambling again. geez, just the thought of it sent shivers down his spine. he’d have hated if he was given an ultimatum between either you or gambling. then again, that would’ve been an exciting bet. all or nothing, huh. now that gave him goosebumps. “you don’t have to worry about a thing. we got lady luck on our side after all,” dice confidently said, taking out his good luck charms, a pair of dice, from his pocket and throwing them into the air. he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he’d win big this time.

~

“gahh! what the hell??” dice practically shouted, although the other pachinko players seemed to pay no mind to him. it was rather common to find someone bet their entire life savings then lose them all within an afternoon. sure, it was a terrible sight, but the other players found their games to be much more important. you win some you lose some, that’s just how life worked. then again, the loud noises and distracting colors probably drowned out any connection to the outside world they may have had, however weak it was in the first place. 

dice had, yet again, lost big time at the machines. standing behind him, you shook your head in disappointment. you knew that this exact scenario would play out once he had dragged you to a nearby pachinko parlor. those machines were literally designed to feed off of people’s tendency to think that they’d win big the next round. “tch, i was sure i’d win this time…” he took out his so-called lucky dice and threw them at the machine in frustration. you had been right, as much as he hated to admit. his luck had been garbage lately, which was only perpetuated by the fact that he lost his imaginary bet with you that he’d win. his good luck charms now brought on bad luck instead, and dice couldn’t help but get irritated. this entire time, they never let him down! but now...now they were just dead weight. the pair of dice had lost their touch. they were no longer good luck charms but rather just plain old dice.

“i knew this would happen,” he heard you mumble, which only irritated him further. dice just couldn’t seem to win a single bet, no matter how lousy or small. he never was one to let a spell of bad luck discourage him, but he couldn’t possibly be confident all the time. everything was finally catching up to him, and what made it worse was the fact that you didn’t seem to believe in him. it was the icing on the cake. “let’s head back home-”

“w-wait, just one more time! please, i’m sure we’ll get it this time.”

“you’ve said that the past four matches.”

“er-well...” dice had to think of some excuse fast if he wanted to stay here. sure, he may have lost everything he had begged you for, but maybe you’d be willing to lend him a few more yen? dice did doubt it, but he just couldn’t leave the parlor, not yet, not when he hasn’t won anything at all. maybe, just maybe, his luck will turn around this time. he was holding on to the last bit of optimism he had. “t-then, how about you play for a change?” even if he couldn’t play, maybe you would win big for the both of them. after all, you’ve never gambled before, or at least not that he knew of, so you must have some sort of beginner’s luck, right? well, this was his only chance, and dice was going to bet on it. 

you, on the other hand, were quite taken aback at this sudden development. you, gambling? it didn’t really sound right. besides, you’ve taken a look around the place, and uh, needless to say, you felt a deep pit form in your stomach once you saw the desperation on some faces. you didn’t want to go through that same feeling as them. casinos weren’t fair, after all. they were rigged to make more money for the house, and you really didn’t want to play into their scheme. yet, you didn’t have the heart to explain that to dice who seemed so eager. “um, i don’t think that’s a good idea. i don’t even know how to play-”

“it’s simple, i’ll teach you.” you internally groaned. just great. now you were wrapped up in his plan to make you guys stay longer at the parlor. you mentally cursed yourself for being so oblivious to it all, and now you had no choice but to play along. once again, you’d fallen into his trap. “you just gotta put some money in here, pull the lever, and aim for that place right there,” dice pointed out, nudging you into the seat as he simultaneously explained the rules. if this works out just as planned, dice could see himself leaving this place with a couple thousand yen in his pocket. gosh, he was getting excited just thinking about it. you, however, seemed a bit hesitant at first, so dice tried to massage and pat your shoulders, you know, for reassurance. it’s just a quick, simple game of pachinko, what could possibly go wrong?

“like this?” you asked, pushing down on the lever which sent a ball flying into one corner of the screen. with its landing, the machine lights started flashing (it was enough to induce a headache), and a rather good sum of metal balls came spilling out of the machine. 

“woah, you just won a couple thousand yen!!” dice practically screamed, which didn’t help when you had just been blinded by many colorful bands of light. he couldn’t contain his excitement and was quite literally visibly shaking from all the adrenaline that just flowed through his body. you just stared at the screen, dumbfounded at what had just happened. did you really just win? on your first try?? there was absolutely no way that was possible, right? a few of the other players stopped and quickly glanced at all the commotion, although that didn’t last long as they were soon back to staring at their own screens and attempting to earn some cash. “hey, hey, pull the lever again!”

“um, ok?” once more, you pulled the lever, and the lights started flashing once again as a few more metal balls came spilling out of the machine. 

“holy shit—talk about some beginner’s luck!! you just won a few ten thousand yen! gah, you must be so lucky y/n!!” dice didn’t even attempt to hide his shouting at this point, though you truly wished he’d stop shaking you, especially when the entire world was still spinning. honestly, you couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening right now. the blinding lights were nothing but a haze, and the loud machine noises introduced a sharp ringing in your ears. “press it again! you still have metal balls left.” you couldn’t quite remember the last time dice was this ecstatic; well, that time dice was practically starving and the look on his face when he saw the feast you had cooked for him did come close, but this one took the cake. 

“uhh, i think i’ve had enough excitement for today,” you groaned, holding your head which hadn’t stopped spinning from the first time the lights went off. this whole thing was a bit much with all the colors and loud noises and whatnot. how dice was able to keep up with this environment you didn’t know. honestly, you sorta respected him now. not just anyone could stomach this type of atmosphere.“why don’t you take over and complete it for me?” 

“don’t have to ask me twice, heh.” immediately after getting up, dice took your seat and began pressing the lever in no time at all, concentrating immensely on the tiny balls and aiming them at what you hypothesized to be the center for the jackpot. ball after ball kept landing on a few spots, which resulted in another couple thousand metal balls, though dice seemed to pay no mind to them and instead kept smacking the lever. now, this scene was stirring up quite a commotion, and you were pretty sure everyone’s eyes in the parlor were on you. there were even a few murmurs here and there from the employees which, needless to say, didn’t help your growing uneasiness. 

“what’s even going on?” you asked aloud, though you weren’t really expecting an answer, at least not from dice who seemed to be on a roll. his eyes were only on the pachinko machine now. damn, you wished dice looked at you the same way he looked at that machine at this instant. that was the largest grin you’d ever seen. and finally, at the very last ball, dice hit a jackpot. 

instantly, dice’s eyes widened, and a loud “YESS!!” echoed throughout the parlor. the lights and noises increased in intensity, and everyone now was practically circling around dice, pushing you out of the group and onto the floor. you were certainly much more flabbergasted than anything else at this moment. dice, your dice, finally won the jackpot? this certainly couldn’t be a dream. hell, that’d be some dream in the first place. the world never stopped spinning, and all of the voices and cheers and shouts were incoherent and merged together. what the hell would even happen from here on out? you never imagined dice winning the jackpot, and on the day you decided to attend of all times. 

“y/n, y/n!!” you heard dice shout, and in a flash, someone had grabbed your arm, hoisted you up from the ground, and the next thing you knew, you were snuggling into dice’s chest. “can you believe it? we won haha!” as much as you wanted to congratulate dice on his huge win, it was difficult to say anything. for one, you were way too nauseous, and the bright spots that clouded your vision, as well as the consistent annoying ringing in your ears, didn’t help. secondly, dice was clinging on to you way too tightly. you were pretty sure that he was cutting off your airway, but he seemed to not be aware of that. “damn! you really are my lucky charm.”

~

after that entire incident, dice had started calling you by a new nickname: his good luck charm. you weren’t even entirely sure why, assuming that everything that occurred back in the parlor was nothing more than a mere coincidence. it was just a coincidence that you were there, and it was just a coincidence that he had managed to hit the jackpot that same night too. to be honest, you didn’t really believe much in luck. sure, there was a few good luck or bad luck spells here and there, but you attributed that to nothing more than a series of coincidences. i mean, luck was such a complex subject when one pondered on it for far too long, and it just didn’t seem highly plausible that a person could have a series of good or bad things happening to them all at once. was that even statistically possible? well, if it was, there was no doubt that the chances were very slim.

as aforementioned, however, dice despised logic. it was just too boring, so he truly believed in luck. there really was a being such as lady luck that toyed with him and determined whether he’d win or lose. and that entire pachinko incident was his good luck finally making a comeback. perhaps you were even luck in disguise! i mean, he’d been in such a bad luck spell that he couldn’t even win on simple bets such as a coin toss (yes, he was that desperate), but when you were right by his side, all of a sudden, he was swimming in cash. there was only one plausible explanation for such a phenomenon, and to dice, it was luck. this entire situation was just so rivoting!

and today again, dice had managed to bet off and proceed to lose all of his winnings from that day. honestly, that was a rather huge accomplishment in and of itself. dice truly didn’t know the definition of self control. you sighed to yourself as you felt a massive headache coming on as you sat in your home, wondering to yourself where your boyfriend could possibly be at such a time. it was nearing ten at night, and although you’d naturally assume that he was at a casino betting away anything he had on hand, you hadn’t seen him all day. he hadn’t been answering his calls from you either, which you did find a bit odd and concerning since that was one of the things he always managed to do without fail. just where could he possibly be? 

as the saying goes, speak of the devil and he’ll appear. just as you were getting more and more concerned about the whereabouts of your boyfriend, your phone suddenly rung, and to your relief, the contact id was that of dice. relief immediately flooded you, although anger followed soon after. he’d disappeared for the entire day, with no urge to contact and inform you at all, yet he was finally calling now, when you were about to retire for the day? you really tried not to get angry, especially since you were much more worried than anything, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to contain your anger. 

that all dissipated, however, when you heard dice’s voice over the call. “y/n!!” for some odd reason, dice sounded relieved and also a bit terrified? well, that was new. dice never backed down from a challenge, and he always managed to face them head on with total confidence in himself, even if the chances of winning were slim. sure, he’s had his fair share of disappointment and lack of confidence in himself when it came to gambling, but he never sounded fearful. you quickly became much more concerned than beforehand.

“dice?? where are you? and why haven’t you been picking up?!”

“uh haha...you see, about that-” 

you really did love dice, you truly did. despite his obsessive gambling tendencies and airheadedness, dice had a heart of gold and stood up for what he deemed was right. he was quite admirable at times, really. but god, this incident made you believe otherwise. you knew that dice was quite foolish and spontaneous at times, especially when money was involved, but you couldn’t help but still be baffled when he explained that he was stuck in some sorta underground gambling ring (you had no idea how he even found out about all of these schemes) since he’d gambled all of his current earnings away. of course, you knew that dice would gamble away any spare penny he had on hand. that in and of itself wasn’t a new or surprising fact (though he always did manage to pay you back if he did win). but an underground gambling ring? really? you couldn’t help but question why he even chose to go to one instead of heading on over to the usual casino where practices were, at the very least, legal. it surely would’ve spared the two of you a headache. 

despite the fact that every single rational cell in your body was insisting that it was too dangerous to go to an illegal gambling scene, you threw all that logic out the window. sure you were quite a bit irritated with dice at the moment, but you knew that you had to go save him. he was still the man that you loved after all, even if he did make less than smart decisions at times. certainly you were one of his only chances he had to be saved, unless he did call upon his teammates, though you assumed that they were quite busy at the moment or asleep. 

“alright, where are you at?”

“gahh, you��re such a blessing y/n! thankyouthankyou-”

you could practically picture his enthusiasm over the phone once you heard how relieved he sounded. just imagining a grinning dice waiting for you made you smile. he was just too adorable. you couldn’t possibly stay mad at him for too long. god, you really were a lovesick fool. 

~

when you arrived at the scene, the first thing you couldn’t help but notice was just how musty and humid the entire atmosphere was, though it wasn’t that much different from your usual casino. the only difference was that this place was rather bleak and lifeless in comparison to the bright and migraine-inducing colorful and bright mess of the casino. plus, the people that surrounded this place were rather unsettling. you couldn’t pinpoint whether it was because of their malicious smiles or gruff appearance, but all you knew was that you couldn’t wait to get outta here as soon as possible. hell, if it weren’t for the fact that dice was located deep inside, your instincts would’ve kicked in, and you would’ve been sprinting to the other side by now. but alas, you had to suck it up and go inside, if only to get to see your man again. 

down the creaky and unsafe stairs you went (you were positive that they were going to cave in on you at any moment) and right past the dark hallway, you were finally able to see dice, laying on the ground in nothing but his underwear. you sighed once more, something you realized that you’ve been doing a lot of lately. of course dice had bet his clothes again. you weren’t even exactly sure why you had expected anything else. in front of him sat one large table filled to the brim with all sorts of cards and dice, and behind that were a group of rather large men that you assumed to be the ones who ran this entire operation. geez, you really couldn’t wait to get outta here. 

“y/nnn!!” dice called out a bit too loud as he motioned you to come forward before practically throwing himself on you. “gah, thank heavens you actually came!!” you were just as excited as him to finally see each other again and to see him safe and alive, but it wasn’t exactly the best place to have a heartwarming reunion, not with all of the other guys staring at the two of you embracing. things were just way too awkward, especially since these guys had basically won over all of dice’s savings and whatnot. 

“alright then, now that i’ve found you, let’s go back home,” you quickly muttered, taking dice’s hands in yours as you started on your way back. as much as you would’ve loved to stay and have a quick chat with the others or even attempt to win back dice’s clothes, every instinct in your body was telling you to run outta there while you had the chance. sure, it was a shame that dice had to lose his iconic coat and overworn clothes, but frankly, you thought that the value of both of your lives was much higher than some ripped pants. you’d be more than happy to go buy some new clothes for dice just as soon as the two of you were outta this underground room that gave you goosebumps. you weren’t exactly sure whether or not these guys posed a threat, but it was better to not take any chances. 

“uhh, about that…” 

oh no, it was those dreaded words again. of course there was some kinda setback. there was always a setback in these situations where a person was trying to go back to the comfort of their own home. you quickly snapped towards dice, only to be met with his sheepish smile, which only deepend once he saw the glare in your eyes. honestly, this entire situation was just getting more and more frustrating with each passing minute. all you desperately wanted was to get back home safe with dice in your arms, but of course, there were obstacles (there has to be some sorta plot to this entire story after all). geez, you felt another headache coming on.

“ya see, um, you gotta win your right to leave…” 

for a good few seconds, all you could do was stare dumbfoundly at the man you loved, trying to process what he had just said. surely this was all one big joke, right? “what?! then why did you even come here in the first place?!”

“i didn’t even know about the rules until after i had started! forgive me y/n!!” just as this story started, dice was now on his knees, this time begging for your mercy. gosh, he genuinely does seem sorry for putting the both of you through this entire situation. besides, you knew that he meant well. dice was just a bit naïve and airheaded at times, always getting caught up in the excitement of it all rather than to stop and think about what exactly was going on. it was one of the qualities that you loved oh so dearly about him. dice never really intended to put himself or you in harm’s way; rather, he was just chasing excitement and the adrenaline rush. gahh, you couldn’t stay mad at him for long. plus, the sight of him begging for your forgiveness and the sincerity in his voice broke you, and you even began to feel a bit guilty for him. god, you really did love this fool. 

“it’s alright,” you mumbled, helping dice up from the floor while patting him on the back for reassurance. you weren’t mad, at least not right now. you’d have plenty of time to air any grievances once the two of you were back home safe and sound, but right now, you had to focus on the problem at hand. dice, on the other hand, seemed rather relieved that you decided to help him. deep down, he knew that he was in for it the moment the two of you got back to your place, but of course, he was determined to make it up to you. dice really felt so blessed to have someone as kind and understanding as you as his lover. “soo, what do i have to do in order for us to go back home?” 

the next thing you knew, you sat in front of a roulette table with a couple of the ring leaders on either side of you as well as on at the head of the table. roulette was a game that you were quite familiar with, although that was only because you had seen dice play it a number of times at the casino. as for actual experience with it, well, you’d hardly played any games with it before. the rules did seem fairly simple, though the terminology was a bit difficult to get used to, and the odds didn’t seem to be making much sense in the back of your brain, which at the moment was overrun by adrenaline and fear. it was hard to even think straight, much less make proper decisions that’d ensure the safety of both you and dice. 

“alright, place your bets,” the dealer announced once he’d distributed all of the colored chips. soon enough, the people around you started placing their own chips on different tiled squares and even between them. all of this was foreign to you. i mean, what exactly was the difference between placing a chip at an intersection of four boxes, placing it in a large box, or placing it in one single box? you had no idea about the different types of strategies or the different types of bets, so you decided that your best bet was to go along with your gut. i mean, gambling was all about luck after all, right? it shouldn’t matter whether or not you decided to utilize a strategy since there was no possible way to accurately predict the route the metal ball would take. so, you decided to move all your chips to one square: three. 

“oo, a straight bet, how exciting!” dice commented, though you had absolutely no idea what that even meant. just like back at the pachinko parlor, the entire atmosphere was making you quite queasy, and it was quite difficult to pay attention to anything that was going on. taking notice of the rather puzzled look on your face, dice then proceeded to explain. “well, it means that you’re betting on just one number! it’s really difficult to win, but the payout is huge if you do!” ah yes, you should’ve known that it was quite the risky move if dice approved of it. geez, all you wanted to do was get outta here as soon as possible, but it seemed like it would take much longer than that if you kept making risky bets like this. 

before you could even change your mind about the placement of your bets, the ball was released, and you were quickly hypnotized by its spinning movement. it was another thing to add on to your nausea and quickly rising anxiety. before you could dwell on it too much, however, as luck would have it, the ball landed on three. 

“gahh, y/nn!! you really are my lucky charm!” dice once again shouted, embracing you in a rather tight squeeze. what just happened? was this all a replay of the pachinko parlor incident? surely this was nothing but a mere coincidence, right? luck didn’t exist, or at the very least, you didn’t have extraordinarily good luck. you couldn’t have. the rest of the table quickly turned their eyes to the two of you, glaring at you in particular for having won your first time through. 

“i’m sure it was all a coincidence,” you mumbled, trying to ease all of the tension in the room as well as get the others off your back. you weren’t exactly content on making anyone’s hitlist tonight, which didn’t work out the moment the dealer gave you your chips that you had won. wow, it was way more than what you had originally bet too. 

for the next game, you decided to once more place most of your chips on a single space, this time the zero one. you knew this time around that this was quite a risky move, especially since if it didn’t land there, then all of the money you had won would’ve been gone. so you decided that your best bet was to keep a small pile of chips and save them for later in case you did lose any. after all, you wanted to ensure that you were able to win back your escape for both you and dice. 

and since this is a fanfiction, the ball, once again, landed on your exact spot: zero. dice’s cheer this time was much louder, and the glares from the others were much more cutthroat and icy (you were absolutely sure that you were murdered over a hundred times over just by the intensity of those glares alone). well, that was some coincidence, huh. two times in a row. must be beginner’s luck, exactly like back at the pachinko parlor. yep, that’s all it was, beginner’s luck or just an even stranger coincidence. 

“see y/n? i told you that you were my good luck charm,” dice cheekily commented, massaging your shoulders as you got prepared for the next game. “if this keeps up, then we’ll win back everything i lost, and we’ll be outta here in no time!!” it was quite easy to tell that dice was way too ecstatic and high on adrenaline right now, with the way he was bouncing up and down and the fact that he didn’t seem like he could even sit still or contain his excitement. his unchecked enthusiasm really didn’t help ease your growing anxiety or pounding headache. in fact, it made it worse, because he had expectations for you. it would absolutely devastate him if you managed to lose everything in one sitting, and that would have a chain reaction and devastate you as well. gosh, you prayed that this entire situation ended soon and without anyone getting hurt. 

and just like that, your prayers were soon answered as you kept on hitting the jackpot again and again the next few rounds. dice wasn’t even attempting to hide his high right now, and the others also weren’t attempting to hide their aggression and resort to violence. there were even shouts that you had cheated, to which dice argued with them while you remained seated, rooted in both silence and fear. your anxiety and nausea were starting to take over, and it took everything in you to stop yourself from projectile vomiting onto the table and ruining the entire game. the others surely would’ve beat you and dice to a pulp if that happened. this entire chain of coincidences was becoming way too much. perhaps this was the luck dice had talked about. perhaps you truly were his good luck charm. well, you were quickly taken out of your thoughts by the dealer, who had confirmed that there was no possible way that you could’ve cheated given that he released the ball and it was all up to chance. 

it was on to the final round now, and with this round, you’d finally be able to go back home with dice with all the money he lost and then some. and courtesy of dice’s suggestion, you decided to bet your stacks and stacks of chips on just one square: twenty-seven. you knew that this was risky, hell, you knew that you’d most likely lose everything. but you couldn’t think straight right now. hell, you couldn’t even think at all! everything was becoming way too confusing, and similar to the time at the pachinko parlor, your world was spinning and you couldn’t differentiate between anything anymore. it had all become way too much, so dice had taken over for you. yes, it wasn’t the smartest decision, but you basically had no choice right now. 

and with that, the ball was released once more, and within a few seconds the results came out: twenty-seven. you couldn’t help but stare at disbelief as your boyfriend then hoisted you up and started chanting about how you were his luckiest charm, proceeding to then plant one giant sloppy kiss on your lips before going on to receive all of the prize money and his clothing. at this point, you had gotten used to the dirty glares the others have given you. quite frankly, you were just relieved to be outta there, which did happen as the moment dice got all of your winnings, you grabbed his hand and bolted out of that place, never wanting to see that place again. that in and of itself was an adventure of a lifetime, and you weren’t sure if you could take anymore excitement for at least a good few years, all thanks to your adventurous and carefree boyfriend. 

the walk back home through the crisp night air was quiet on your part, though dice couldn’t stop going on and on about how you won big and saved his ass, reiterating that you were his lucky charm, luckier than any dumb ol’ dice he had used beforehand. while dice went on his whole spiel about just how exciting all of that was, you were deep in thought about the events that had just went down. there was no way that this series of events was nothing but a coincidence. coincidences don’t just happen back to back! at least, the odds of that were slim to none. guess the only reasonable explanation was just as dice said, you were lucky. but you were quite skeptical about luck! luck was unreasonable, luck wasn’t logical. luck was just that, it was luck. how could you place your hopes on something as strange as that? but how could you possibly dismiss everything that happened both tonight and back at the parlor? no matter how skeptical you were, the proof was right there! geez, now your head hurt too much from thinking about it. sighing, you stared at your boyfriend who was nonchalantly talking about how you were so cool back there, smiling as you intertwined your hands with his and embraced his warmth. you were just happy that he came back safe and sound. you were, after all, his good luck charm, and he was yours too.

[deadpcnned]

the gamble of the heart | chapter 3 (r.l.)

chapter three: hangovers and cowards

series masterlist

previous chapter

pairing: remus lupin x potter!reader

chapter summary: remus and y/n attempt to talk about their failed relationship 

warnings: swearing, hangover?? 

wordcount: 1.4k

a/n: super short chapter but the next chapter is already done and will be up soon

REMUS WAS met with a dimly lit room as he opened his eyes. He could tell it was daytime by the bits of light peeking in from behind the curtains, but the thick drapes were thankfully blocking most of the light. He was clutching an empty bottle of alcohol against his chest and there was drool sticking to the corner of his mouth. Remus wrapped himself further into his duvet, trying to ignore the nausea adding to his previous misery. He’d have to use some charms to cure the steady ache in his head and drink a shitload of water. 

Balancing himself as he stood, Remus was met with an empty room. He was sure he had slept through the boys trying to wake him up, as he had a habit of doing. Even if they hadn’t he really didn’t care. He just needed some food. Trudging down the stairs, Remus hoped that Sirius and James hadn’t planned anything tremendous today. He didn’t have the mind or the heart to deal with their antics, no matter how much he enjoyed them most days.

To his disillusionment, instead of a clear path to breakfast, he ran into a rather gorgeous obstacle. His anger wasn’t enough to blind him from how beautiful Y/N looked, perched up on the sofa reading from a textbook. With a shake of his head, Remus started to head towards the door again.

“We need to talk, Remus,” Y/N’s voice was a mix of stern and concerned and Remus sighed knowing nothing good was going to come of this conversation. Turning around, he walked back towards the couches and took a seat as far away as possible from Y/N. 

“Not here,” she motioned to the crowd behind her and began to go back up the stairs. Remus didn’t want to climb up the stairs. Not just because of his massive headache, but because he didn’t want to just listen to her. He had wasted enough of his time doing that.

But people always told him old habits die hard. 

Entering Y/N’s dorm, Remus took a seat at what appeared to be Lily’s desk. The tops of ten dead flowers that were carefully taped to the table - that he knew James had given her and she had reluctantly taken - were proof of that. He wondered if Lily would ever hurt James the way he had been hurt. Well, after she finally stopped pretending she didn’t care for the boy. He hoped not. No one deserved this pain, but especially not James. 

“What was yesterday about?” Remus slowly brought his head up to look at the Y/N. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, nervously clutching her blanket. He couldn’t count the number of times he had held her on that bed. Or the one night he had snuck into her dorm after a particularly gruesome full moon. He had wanted to remember the details of that night forever when he had left in the morning, but now he wanted anything but that. 

Y/N had mumbled an incantation under her breath and suddenly Remus’ head felt a lot lighter. 

“You know perfectly well what last night was about,” Remus said simply. There was no point in either of them playing dumb, especially her. 

“No, Remus. I don’t. It’s not like you to make a scene like that.” Remus scoffed at the expectations she held for him. 

“Yah? Well, it’s not like you to make out with some random in the middle of a crowded room.” Y/N looked at him incredulously, her mouth agape.  

“So, what? Are you jealous of Mason?” Was she fucking insane? 

“Am I jealous of Mason?” Remus was seething as he spat his words at her. “Of course I’m fucking jealous, Y/N. Stop acting so innocent.” 

“I’m not acting - Remus, I-” In two swift motions, Remus was standing right in front of Y/N.

“No, you are. You know damn well you’ve let me down. So, at least be brave enough to own it.” Slowly Y/N rose up from her spot, protectively crossing her arms in front of her. 

“So that outfit you wore yesterday… At the game. It was what? To get my attention,” Y/N’s accusation invoked a rosey color to inhabit Remus’ cheeks. He had felt embarrassed enough when he had made the decision the day before, but now he was mortified. All he could do was nod. 

“You looked utterly stupid.” Remus let out a mirthless chuckle and pursed his lip as he watched her. 

“That’s my fucking problem, Y/N. I am so goddamn stupid. I am so stupid that I can’t let go of this notion that you still care about me. That you still have all the feelings we talked about. But I’m even stupider because I would still do anything for you,” Remus’ words were bullets, but every shot aimed at Y/N seemed to be hitting him instead. 

“Moony,” He grimaced at the way his nickname left her lips. She looked distraught and he resisted the urge to smooth out the lines on her forehead. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” 

“Alright,” Remus took a breath, trying to keep his temper cool. “Start by explaining why? Why’d you start dating Tomlinson?” Y/N’s face flushed as she looked at Remus with an unreadable expression.

“I like him, Remus. That’s why.” Maybe if Remus had really been listening, the words would have broken straight through his bones. Instead, he was ready to ask her the next question on his mind. 

“What happened to us?”

It was a simple question. If Y/N had a new boyfriend she should have no problem giving him an answer. So, why was she tearing up? Why did she get to be the one hurting right now? 

“Remus, Mason, he just… I don’t know, Remus. I can’t explain it,” Remus was getting sick of her feigning guiltlessness. He was the one that was left alone and empty, she probably had Mason filling her up every night. 

“Did you lie in your letter?” He studied her reaction carefully as he spoke his next words. “You said you loved me, what the fuck does that mean?” When Remus had received the letter from Y/N, he had assumed it was going to be just another mundane update since the last time they had talked. Which would have been more than enough for Remus. However, within the last lines of the letter she had casually told Remus she loved him. He wasn’t sure if it had been a mistake, but that day he decided as soon as they were back at Hogwarts he would tell her how he felt. He would make what they had real. 

“That I loved you?” Y/N visibly retracted and closed her eyes as she replied. 

“Is that what it meant? Because if you fucking loved me, then how the fuck did you find someone new after three weeks?” Remus tasted a salty liquid on his lips and instantly wiped away the tears that were slipping down his face. What made him more angry was that Y/N was just staring, wide eyed. “ANSWER ME, Y/N!”

“Remus, I don’t know. I wish I knew what happened, but I just met Mason and it was like something instant.” 

“You’re a liar. There must be a reason that you fell… fell o-out of love with me,” Remus took a harsh breath in, willing his tears away. 

“I’m not lying. It had nothing to do with you,” Remus chuckled, choking on his tears. How cliche, he thought. Running his hand through his hair, he spun away from Y/N. It was as if the moon had come two weeks early, because he was unable to control the anger coursing through him. He pounded his fist against Marlene’s bed frame, but made sure to stay as far away from Y/N as possible. No matter what, he couldn’t scare her. 

“Remus!” Y/N yelled, running over to inspect his hands. Her hands were cold but she electrified every inch of skin she touched. Sighing, she looked up at him. “Look, Remus. I have no idea how to explain to you what I’m feeling, but you’re just going to have to accept I’m with Mason now. Or - or we can’t be friends.” 

“Okay,” Remus nodded his head calmly, carefully moving his hand away from hers and brought them to his side.

“Okay? Thank you, Remus -”

“I guess we just aren’t friends anymore,” Turning around, Remus didn’t bother listening to what bullshit Y/N was spewing. But before he walked out of the room he left her with one last thought, “Coward.”

Remus didn’t react until he was safely in his locked dorm room. And then he broke. Did Y/N have a charm to use for the pain growing in his heart? Because he really needed it.

taglist: @kitkatkl @faceache111 @peasantview @missmulti @666cookies @thetiredslytherin @wonderful-writer @devilswaldorf @chococerealmilk @rare-breed-of-human @rexorangecouny @messagesinthesky @theawkwardone-isme @fredweasleysbitchh @nicodoesntexist @whoreforfredweasley @voidmalfoy​

[marjansmarwani]

the truth is stranger than all my dreams

2.9k || ao3

Marjan likes to think that she’s confident, that she can take on anything. But things are showing her that she may not know herself as well as she thinks and that the future can be a scary thing. 

------

A Marjan centric coda to 2x04

Because Marjan deserves a fic too. Beta’d by @officereyes

-----------

Marjan’s two worlds collided with a thunderous crash when she saw Salim standing at the edge of the rink. Turning the corner expecting to see her friends and seeing him right beside them was so incongruous. For all her usual grace under fire, she didn’t know how to handle this, or what to say. These were some of the people with whom she felt safest with in the entire world - she trusted each of them with her life - but somehow having them all in one room left her reeling. 

“Fiance” was the truth, but it somehow felt wrong. It didn’t feel like enough to encompass all that he was and all their relationship was. It may have been the wrong one too, judging by the reactions of her friends. Well, Carlos tried, but the rest were stuck in shock. She couldn’t say that she blamed them. It’s not like she had ever mentioned him before. 

She was happy to see him; it had been over a year now since she had left Miami and their families behind. But with no warning on a day out with her friends was too much. It felt so foreign and somehow wrong. Salim fit into a specific space in her head, her life here in Austin in another. She had never anticipated the two having to collide without warning. 

But he smiled at her and she returned it. He joined them in watching the next bout and all seemed at ease. He struck up a conversation with her friends, it all seemed normal. It was all fine, so she didn’t know why she felt an undercurrent of dread. When she asked him later on, when they were alone waiting for his uber, why now he had simply said he had missed her, that he had wanted to see her, that he had wanted it to be a surprise. 

Mission accomplished there, for sure. 

As they parted for the evening and he made her promise to free some time up for him tomorrow, after her shift, she agreed with a smile. The shock had faded and maybe the feeling of displacement would soon too. 

Having another person she cared about in the same city should be a good thing, after all. 

-------

She had been debating whether the smell was simply stuck in her head or if she actually needed to shower again when she was interrupted by her phone vibrating its way across the bench beside her. When she opened the message waiting for her all other thoughts fled her mind. Salim wanted to have dinner in one of the nicest restaurants in the city with her, alone. There was confusion, but there were also alarm bells sounding in her head. Him showing up here, him inviting her to dinner at a nice restaurant without a chaperone? They had a plan but she was starting to get the feeling that he wanted to change that plan. 

She rewrapped her hair and headed to the bunks, reading the message again, looking for any clues she may have missed. There are none. He’s not coming out and saying anything, but she can hear it shouted between the lines. He’s tired of waiting and wants to move forward. She flops back onto her bed with a groan. This wasn’t the plan. They still have time. She still has time. 

Paul and Mateo asked her about it and while she appreciated their words and show of support, it doesn’t change the fact that she had no idea how to handle this. Paul’s right: Salim is likely tired of waiting. She doesn’t know why, she doesn’t know what brought it on. All she knows is that when she showed up to dinner he was more than likely going to ask her a question that she didn’t know how to answer.

TK joined them and after the other two fill him in and he voices his support for whatever she decides, she smiled. If nothing else, she knew she could always count on her team. The thought of leaving Austin and them so soon; when she had just built a life here and found a family and happiness, is too much. She’s not ready. She just hopes it doesn't come to that and if it does, Salim can understand. 

------

As Marjan let herself back into her apartment she fell back on the closed door and closed her eyes. For so long she had had this plan. For so long she had taken comfort in the fact that she knew what her future held. There had been no uncertainty, no wondering if every time she put her heart on the line it might just end up getting crushed instead. She was going to live her life for herself for a while, and then she was going to marry Salim. That was it, full stop, end of story. 

Or so she had thought. 

Just this morning she had been telling Paul and Mateo how much sense it made, how smart it was. She had been so sure. But apparently even the best-laid plans were still just that: plans. And plans could be changed, or broken. 

She wasn’t sure where to go from here. She didn’t know what the next step was. What was the procedure for your intended deciding that was it, that you were done now? She should probably call her parents but she didn’t want to talk about this. Not yet; she was still processing it herself.  She sighed and opened her eyes again before taking a deep breath and venturing further into her apartment. 

She couldn’t deny that even past all the confusion, it hurt. Maybe it was petty or egotistical, but she had thought that she had been worth waiting for. The idea that she wasn’t, that he had managed to find someone else hurt more than she wanted to admit. This was exactly the kind of hurt this plan was supposed to avoid. She wasn’t meant to have her heart broken before she had even given it away. 

But maybe that was the problem too. She never had given her heart to it, had she? She had hidden behind a wall of plans and rules and humor. She hadn’t allowed herself to be vulnerable. She had been so determined to avoid the pain of heartbreak that she may have inadvertently caused it. And not just for herself, either. She may not have set out to do so, but she had hurt Salim along the way too. As much as she didn’t want to accept it and as tempting as it was to lay the blame on him for choosing a way out, this was at least partially her fault.

But that, she decided, was a problem for the morning. Tonight she would allow herself to sulk, just a little. She would let herself feel this and she would get up in the morning and start again. Maybe by then this aching feeling in her chest would have faded, maybe by then things would look a little brighter.  

------

Marjan loved Salim. At least, she was pretty sure she did.

The thing is she had never been good at that: at deciding what her feelings were, at feeling them at all. 

All her life she had been told that love would develop over time. She really believed that, it made sense to her. It was far more logical, more reasonable to base a relationship on mutual affection, on friendship and respect for the other person than it was to take a gamble on passion; to rest your future on emotions that were as fickle as the weather. 

She cared about Salim - he knew her better than almost anyone else. She trusted him, she cared for him. She did love him, in a way. She saw him as someone safe, she saw him as a future she could be happy with. They had always been on the same page and they had always had each other’s backs. It was simple, uncomplicated. It was what she wanted. 

She had always thought he had wanted the same. She had spent half a lifetime believing it to be true, knowing that no matter what in the end, they would have each other. There was love in her heart for him, that she knew for sure. She’s just not sure if it’s the same kind he apparently felt for her. 

Or, at least, she hadn’t been. Now that she was on the other side of the plan she had built her life around, she wasn’t so sure. There was an ache in her chest; a dull pain that stung even more with each thought she had of Salim and the night before. She wasn’t an expert, but she was fairly certain this was what a broken heart felt like. 

She appreciated Paul and Mateo’s sympathy and Paul’s advice even more, but even as she left them to go to the kitchen she still didn’t know where to go from here. What was the point of sharing her feelings when he had already made his choice? What good was this realization when it came a day too late? 

She entered the kitchen in search of some tea only to find it already occupied by TK, who was putting away dishes with far more force than necessary. She frowns as she steps forward, “Hey dude, you good?” 

He turned to face her and though the expression on his face was decidedly not fine he nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine.” He studied her and his frown deepened, “Are you?” 

“No? I don’t know.” She sighed and sank into one of the stools at the counter. TK crossed the kitchen to join her, leaning onto the counter from the other side so they were at eye level. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Do you?” she countered, “because I don’t believe your bs for a second and you are not okay either.” 

“I will if you do.” 

They held each other’s gazes for a long moment before she sighed and relented, “It’s Salim.” 

“I figured as much. I take it dinner didn’t go well?” 

“You could say that,” she said dryly, “he asked me if I ever loved him, and told me he was tired of being the only one pining, that he wanted to be with someone who loved him and he wasn’t sure he was willing to take the risk that I might grow to love him later, after all this time. And then, on top of all that, he told me he had met someone else.” 

“Shit Marj, I’m so sorry.” She nodded and gave him a small smile. Paul may be the station mind reader, but TK knew her well enough that he knew also the answer without even having to ask the question: yes, it bothered her. 

“The worst part,” she continued, “is that I realized I might actually love him after all, just a day too late.” 

TK gave her a grimace of sympathy, but she patted his hand before he could say anymore, “Your turn now: a deal’s a deal. What’s got you wound so tight today?”

He studied her for a moment before he relented with a sigh, “Carlos and I ran into his parent’s at the farmer’s market yesterday, and he introduced me as his friend, from work.”

The quip was there on the tip of her tongue, the joke to break the tension, but Salim’s voice sounded in the back of her mind, and of course, you make a joke. As much as she hated to admit it, in light of everything, he was right. She did use humor to avoid confronting emotions whenever possible. But sitting here watching TK stare down at his hands miserably, she took a breath and jumped in: “Did he say why? Is he not out to his parents?” 

“No, he’s out to them. I guess...I guess it’s just more complicated than I thought.”

“Most things are.” 

TK gave a harsh laugh, “that’s for sure.” 

They lapsed into quiet for a few moments before he spoke, “We both are going to have to swallow our pride, aren’t we?” 

Marjan shook her head, “I don’t know if pride is really the issue here, for either of us. I think it’s fear.” 

“You might be onto something there,” TK admitted. 

The conversation faded as they each retreated back into their own thoughts before eventually,  TK spoke again, “What are you going to do about Salim?” 

“I’m not sure yet,” she admitted with a shrug, “I don’t really know where to go from here. None of this was ever part of the plan, but I guess nothing ever stays the same.” 

“You should tell him.” 

TK’s words are sudden and she looked up at him sharply, “What, like some dramatic love confession? To try to get him to leave someone else he has already made a commitment to? That all seems...very much not me.” 

“And the decision is up to you, obviously, but I think you owe it to yourself to tell him the truth. It doesn't have to be dramatic, just give him all the information and let him make a decision. I think it’s only fair to make sure you are on the same page. Nothing good has ever come from hiding anything from someone you care about.”

She considered his words. They were remarkably similar to Paul’s, which should tell her more than the words themselves. Neither of her two friends would ever advise her to do anything less than what they thought best. Maybe it was worth considering. Maybe it was time to face this fear. Whatever came couldn’t be worse than the dread of missed opportunity. 

“What about you?” she asked him, “what are you going to do?” 

He was quiet again before finally, he shrugged, “I don’t know Marj,” he admitted quietly, “I love him. I thought he loved me. I want to think that he does, but if that’s not the case...I don’t see any way forward.” 

Marjan’s heart broke for him. He looked so miserable and briefly she remembered her thoughts yesterday, how she had claimed even to herself that her future with Salim was safer, less likely to lead to heartbreak. Maybe some things simply couldn’t be avoided; maybe some things were just too universal, no matter your background or approach.  

“I don’t think that’s true,” she told him instead, “don’t forget I have spent a significant amount of time with you two. He loves you just as much as you love him. Whatever this is, I don’t think it has to do with you. I think that maybe you’re not the only one that feels scared.”

TK deflated a bit before meeting her eyes, “If that’s true, what does it mean that I never noticed?” 

Marjan gave him a soft smile, “It means that you’re human. But now that you know, you’re going to have to figure out what to do about it.” 

“Any ideas?” 

She smirked at him, feeling a little bit more like herself now after this talk, “I can’t just give you all the answers, TK. Where would the fun be in that?” 

———

For the second time in as many days when her door closed behind her, she sank back onto it. She had said what she needed to say, and she had meant it. Despite everything she felt for Salim, despite all the plans and promises, there was no going back from here and once again she was left wondering what was next. 

They had talked, before she left. They had decided that he would tell their parents, and she couldn’t be more grateful to him. They had figured out all the logistics of ending it; crossed all the figurative t’s and dotted all the hypothetical i’s. They had successfully dismantled the plan she had built her life around. She wasn’t sure if she was meant to feel relief or excitement, but all she really felt was anxiety. She didn’t know where to go from here. At this very moment she had a completely open future. There were no plans, no landmarks in sight. Maybe it should have been exciting and maybe someday it would be. Right now all she can feel is shock and maybe a little bit of grief too. The future was a wide and daunting thing that she was now facing without a map and it left her feeling unmoored; a leaf on the wind with no control over where she landed. 

Maybe for now the best thing to do was focus on the now. Her now is something she can take comfort in; it is a space in which she is sure of her footing and where she is happy. Maybe the answer is to just focus on that: on her job, on her team, on her friends. Maybe if she did that the rest would reveal itself, in time. 

So she pushed herself off the door and squared her shoulders, holding her head high as she entered her apartment. For tonight she would focus on her life. She would take some time to herself or maybe see what the others were doing. Then in the morning she would get up and go to work and continue focusing on the now and what she had. 

The future was a problem for tomorrow and for now, it could stay there.  

[blankd]

Thoughts on The Mitchells vs the Machines

I watched it a while ago and kept forgetting to post my thoughts on it, but some posts here on tumblr recently reminded me.

I disagree with the majority takeaways I see but is that not the spice of life?

As a standalone movie its inoffensive and the writing of it will likely exit my brain in a few months.  However I can appreciate that the visual style was different from the typical fare and the mixture of 2d elements for visual embellishments were mostly enjoyable and well-suited for Katie as the POV character.

It's a bit "hyper" for my liking, but that's fine, it's likely intended for an audience that's accustomed to the flood that is the current norm of the internet.  It was probably made with GIFable moments in mind and that is the most frequent content that is shared about it, so it certainly succeeded in that regard.

My more critical take is that jokes are delivered at the expense of what could be more authentic themes.  Quips are made that draw attention to character flaws or undercut questions the movie should try to answer, but inevitably they are ignored to move onto the next joke or story beat.

The rest would fall more into spoiler territory, so read more for that.

--"They Were Both In the Wrong"

I personally disagree heavily with the thrust of how "both sides" were wrong when the degrees are disproportionate.

I've seen claims that Katie was "as in the wrong" as her father, but she's incredibly patient to the man who does her material harm.

I've yet to have seen someone say specifically what Katie did *wrong* to her father that is at all on par with the *years* he at best hasn't been able to interact with her or worse, actively refused to engage with her interests.

I would generously venture that her flaw was that she was more willing to communicate her feelings to strangers, but she easily talks to her mother and brother- her brother even helps her with her movies and she happily engages him with his own interests, which pivots the point back to how her father is physically/emotionally unavailable and led to the erosion and distance between the two of them.

Due to this, MvM comes across more as Kaite having to do so much more to guide her father rather than a more mutual learning experience for the both of them.

--"Technology that [Dis]Connects"

It's probably beyond the scope and intent of the film, but I was surprised there was no examination about why technology can be more alluring than interacting with physically present people.

For better or worse, the internet can be used as a means of supplementing the validation and acceptance of family.  It can also lead to no longer connecting to people around them because of the validation high of appealing to a constantly 'awake' sea of strangers- the spotlight is warmer than the cold reality that they are not the internet image they have cultivated.

For example, the rival 'perfect' family was never revealed to be a carefully constructed highlight reel that Mrs. Mitchell envies, they really were actually that perfect- because that provides an easier punchline than an examination or acknowledgement of how the internet can create unhealthy expectations.

I also can't expect MvM to acknowledge the reality that LGBTA+ people who are rejected by their family resort to seeking a new one through the internet because it would be much harder to redeem/rehabilitate a man defined by being tethered to "old values" if he was homophobic instead of "overprotective" and apprehensive at his daughter's departure from home and her dubious art career.

But hey we got that quick line at the end that Katie likes a girl, so that's a diversity win or something.

(To be clear I'm not expecting a whole parade or even an A or B-plot dedicated to it, but I think it should be acknowledged that this kind of "surprise inclusion" is very easily erased with a change of audio and would be completely unsurprised if this were the case for countries that are homophobic.  People can be happy about it, but it is dishonest to pretend that this is a bolder statement than it is.)

In that sense, I do and don't hold MvM to taking a "safer" route about how family always has your back, but this still feels like an important omission considering the focus on technology and its dynamic with the Mitchells.

I will also say that it was also bizarre, to me at least, that the obvious route that her father sees the value of home videos didn't become an active point between him and Katie.  Or that Mr. Mitchell's carpentry never really amounts to anything despite having a sentimental wooden moose.

Lastly, I think it's an unintentional, but it's interesting that Katie going to college to pursue her passion is viewed as a Terrible Thing by her father even though if he had his way, he'd be ostensibly living in the woods away from everyone else except his wife.

This isn't a problem, people are a collection of contradictions, but It's fascinating to see what the *narrative* treats as a difficult sacrifice while simultaneously pulling at heartstrings when PAL cites how children ignore their mothers.  There's an unexamined comedy that Mr. Mitchell's losing out on his 'passion' to live in the woods away from people is treated as tragic despite the movie's insistence on staying connected with your blood family.

--"The Inconsistent Personhood of AI"

PAL is rightfully angry at being discarded for something new; it's provided as a glimpse of what Katie will do when she finds 'her people' at college.

This in of itself is a good hook, because there is no one universal answer to when a flawed relationship should be mended with compromise or if it's better off being broken for the wellbeing of the ones involved.  Family and relationships are not programming, it's a choice and a gamble for whatever it brings but is nonetheless something that must be mutually worked upon.

Initially I thought that PAL was being set up as an exaggerated parallel to Mr. Mitchell.  PAL and Mr. Mitchell did their best to provide for their family.  PAL and Mr. Mitchell are in different stages of being 'discarded' by their family.  PAL and Mr. Mitchell both retaliate at their lack of power in the scenario by using the power granted by their roles to infringe on the autonomy of others for selfish reasons.

PAL even gives a 'chance' for her plan to be halted with, I had assumed this was being set up as the thesis of the movie, about humanity and the value of family, relationships, etc. being used to help someone who is already hurting.

But despite Katie looking at the camera and explaining herself, it is never actually directly resolved or challenged because a punchline was deemed more desirable for this narrative climax.

This begs the question of why PAL bothered with the pretense that she could be reasoned with, especially since this is not some question leveled at all of humanity, just two people.

I'm curious how the writers came to the conclusion that this was the best execution of the scene or if Katie's speech was considered immune to any challenge from PAL.  Would anyone have accepted this outcome if PAL were not an AI but instead a person?

It's not necessarily bad writing they went this route, but I doubt anyone would consider this good writing either.

By the end of the movie, PAL is no longer a 'person' who was betrayed and is lashing out, she is an object to be destroyed because the movie has to wrap up.  No compassion or chances are spared to this AI that did literally everything asked of her except take being discarded quietly.

Did PAL deserve a redemption arc? For this length of movie, probably not.  But it could have concluded with a commitment to doing no further harm.  Instead it is an accidental glimpse at how easily the pretense of compassion can be quickly discarded and mostly unexamined with the right framing.

A likely unintentional example is the conditional humanity given to Eric and Deborahbot who are adopted as "family" while the rest of the robots are mowed down without another thought.  Some are even beaten and broken while begging for mercy, because again, it is a funnier punchline.

Far be it for me to advocate that the murderbots needed 'a second chance uvu' but for a movie whose conceit rests on 'sticking by family' and 'giving chances', the writers certainly made a choice in deciding which AI get honorary humanity and spared violent death- perhaps PAL had a point about humanity's callousness after all.  Bad robots are discarded, good robots get to live.

Even the CEO who realizes he enabled this mess (easily the most unrealistic part of the movie, honestly) is given another chance and he manages to take away a completely wrong lesson.

Speaking of-

--"Maybe I Shouldn’t Have Used Tech Like This"

There's a particular image/gif set posted about MvM with the CEO apologizing for the machine uprising, attributing it to unchecked technology and monopolies.  I've always seen it accompanied by people congratulating the scene as if any of this is at all relevant to the movie.

Charitably, these are people who haven't watched the movie and don't know that PAL is a phone AI single-handedly doing this, but most take the stance that this scene is proof the movie is not saying technology is bad, only corporations are.

The speech isn't technically wrong but it is so utterly divorced from what happens in the movie that it's surreal to see people congratulate it as anything but a moment of soapboxing.

None of the datagrabbing was used at all as part of the takeover.  It's all magical kid-friendly terminators with no relevance to what anyone's browsing history is.  If the company was one that produced robot assistants instead of a being a super tech monopoly, there would be no narrative difference.

The closest to a predatory tactic that is used in MvM is the offer of free wifi which is used to lure most people into their cells which they happily comply with. Curiously this... commentary of people’s mindless addiction to technology is not acknowledged by the Tumblr Court with the same intensity as the CEO’s speech.

But more constructively, I do feel it’s a missed opportunity that Katie who's supposed to be an extremely online person apparently never said any bad things about her family or made any petty vent films for PAL to weaponize.  Instead an in-media audio at one of the outskirt locations was used to accomplish its Traitor Revealed moment.

IN CONCLUSION

MvM is a movie that involves topics that ought to be touched on and explored properly in media and chickens out on all of it due to possible concerns with age-appropriate handling or because it was more committed to its comedy than whatever it has to say about family, change and how technology affects people.

It also reminded me that I hope media will finally graduate from the trope that if you spec into any ‘outdoorsy’ hobby you are incurably afraid of technology.

[yukiobeyme]

Your tattoo shop AU sounds cute! I’d love to hear more about it!!

I’m so sorry for how long this is, but thank you to you and @s8ncake , @asmos-pet , @aguacats , @dj-night-owl , @avellanna-world for enabling me to write and share this. I am putting it under the cut because it is extremely long, like way too long. I am so sorry.

So AciesGecko on Twitter Piercing Diavolo has been living in my mind rent-free and like Tattoo Shop! AU. Their @ here is the same but they suffered from me tagging them once but here is their tweet that inspired it ( x) (it can also be found on Tumblr here: x)

This was originally found on my Twitter but I have made edits and added more details to indulge everyone because I really like this idea. I don’t have any relationships in it, but it could easily have DiaLuci, Solomon/Asmodeus, and Barbatos/Simeon. I have this currently have Lucifer being Satan’s biological father and Lucifer is a single parent. But anyway now into the actual meat and enjoyment of this Tattoo Shop! AU

Welcome to Royal Art and Design (RAD) owned by Diavolo Rey. (It’s my default last name for Diavolo, in my modern DiaLuci fic his name is Diago and someone suggested Rey because it meant King in Spanish and so it’s just stuck.) Diavolo was supposed to take over his father’s company but fell in love with tattooing instead.

This caused major tension and Diavolo’s dad just thinks Diavolo is being rebellious and will one day realize his mistake and crawl back to his Dad but as Diavolo is in his late twenties to early thirties, Diavolo doesn’t regret the tattoo shop. Diavolo is covered with piercings and tattoos that he shows off constantly. Something that also upsets his father because it isn’t professional to have all those tattoos and piercings.

The shop’s main receptionist is Barbatos, a childhood friend of Diavolo. Barbatos’ family lived on the Rey’s property and were their butlers. Barbatos is about 10 years older than Diavolo but they are close friends and Barbatos would follow Diavolo anywhere. Barbatos has far fewer tattoos and piercings than Diavolo. Most of his tattoos are covered except for the ones on his hands.

Then you have the six “brothers”. They aren’t by blood but by choice. They all grew up in (and out of) the foster system. 

The oldest is Lucifer, a renowned tattoo artist (honestly no one knows how Diavolo convinced Lucifer to work with him) Lucifer has a unique tattoo style, something that is sought after. Diavolo loved and adored Lucifer’s style and could recognize his work from a mile away. Diavolo begged and pleaded with Lucifer to work at his shop and was glad they came up with the agreement.

I haven’t decided yet but Lucifer is either covered in tattoos, that he always has covered. Long sleeve button-ups and long pants are a part of Lucifer’s everyday wear. Something Diavolo has told him isn’t necessary. OR Lucifer surprisingly has no tattoos but either way has his ears gauged and an eyebrow piercing and is constantly covered up. (I am leaning towards him being covered in tattoos)

Diavolo constantly compliments Lucifer’s skin and say how it would be a dream to tattoo because he is so pale. Any color would pop and look good and honestly, Diavolo is waiting and hoping for the day, Lucifer lets him tattoo Lucifer.  (Spoiler Lucifer will probably let Diavolo tattoo a huge back piece)

Soon after getting out of foster care, Lucifer got a girl pregnant. He didn’t know until he was contacted. Saying how the mother had given up her rights to the child and he could either sign his rights way or take the child. Not wanting his kid in foster care, Lucifer adopted Satan.

So while Lucifer is in his late thirties Satan just turned 18 and is a walking contradiction. He already filled up one of his arms with tattoos and has plenty of piercings, he loves nothing more than to curl up and read books (he wears big chunky black glasses). Lucifer tried his best to be supportive of Satan wanting to get tattoos but also had to play the bad cop and make sure Satan understood how permanent they were and if he really wanted them.

Satan more or less just hangs out at the shop all the time, that he might as well work there too. He interested in Art and is hoping to attend college for it. Diavolo said if Satan wants to intern at RAD and be a tattoo artist all he had to do is say the word and Diavolo is willing to make it happen.

The second oldest of the “brothers” is Mammon. Mammon was more or less a pity case went it comes to getting his job at RAD. He got in and out of trouble and found himself in jail for a bit, gambling and tax fraud isn’t a good mix. During his time Mammon found himself getting prison tattoos and even taught himself how to tattoo. Something that honestly was encouraged because if it allowed him to have a skill he could use once he was out then it was a skill worth him learning.

Once Mammon was released, he found he still had a gambling problem. Lucifer allowed him to crash on his couch and Diavolo put him through the wringer but told Mammon if he could prove himself he earned himself a spot at RAD and Mammon passed with flying colors.

Mammon’s tattoos are old school and traditional but have a uniqueness to them because of where he learned his skill set. It’s also evident in how Mammon moves around the piece and even how he holds his equipment. Mammon isn’t a fan of piercings, “they hurt too much!” “You have tattoos on YOUR FACE!” He does have his tongue and septum pierced though. 

Third is Leviathan, an otaku but has beautiful Japanese-style tattoos. Even went abroad to Japan to learn about tattooing. In between appointments you can find him either watching anime or playing some game on his phone. Levi had his tongue pierced for a bit but went ahead and committed to having his tongue split. Definitely talked Diavolo into having a fish tank and Levi own reptiles (Is this important to the story? Not really but good to know)

The fourth is Asmodeus. He is the head piercer at RAD and it shows. Asmodeus only has tattoos on his fingers and they are small dots, very minimalist. He also helps Barbatos with receptionist duties. Loves wearing crop tops to show off his belly ring. And flirts with everyone, mainly because it hard to be nervous when you have such a gorgeous person flirting with you.

Finally, the last two “brothers” are the only ones that are related. The twins, Beelzebub and Belphegor. Their style of tattoos are the complete opposite. While Beelzebub focuses on lots of colors, Belphegor works in black and white with maybe one or two colors. Beelzebub is really fit and has full sleeves on both arms and one leg. Belphegor has both hands tattooed and one-half sleeve. He has a hard time finding and committing to a tattoo design, so he waits until it’s perfect. He also is one of the only people Diavolo knows that can fall asleep while being tattooed, it’s quite impressive.

Then you have the current interns Solomon and Simeon (and MC if you want to include them) The application process was intense and it means something to be an intern at RAD because you are honestly learning from the best and learning multiple different styles and perspectives.

Solomon is learning how to pierce too if it’s because of the attraction to the head piercer well no one needs to know about that. While Simeon is strictly doing tattoos and focuses on traditional styles, nothing too modern and not too many colors/ complex colors; “You can’t use the color straight from the tube Simeon, that’s just not right!”

Simeon is the legal guardian to his godson Luke, who is constantly found at the shop too. Energetic and loves to draw then show it off to everyone. Simeon is a little old to be an intern but Diavolo took the chance with him. Something Lucifer disagrees with.

“Wasn’t he apart of your family at one point?” Diavolo asked at some point

“Yes, but he was adopted. We are brothers no more”. was Lucifer’s only response, and didn’t talk any further on the topic.

That’s all I have at this point, but it’s a lot and I just need it in my life. Someone help me do punk edits of the boys. Like maybe I’ll write a small piece on it eventually, but this could easily turn into a huge work that I don’t currently have the time to plan or write. Because tbh I would make DiaLuci a thing for sure, but add Simbarb and Solodeus just for fun or have them as a side relationship.

[khenqart]

Comes out on July 21st as part of the @do-it-with-style-events mini bang.

Rated: T

Main Tags: Angst with a happy ending, Grief, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Eras explored: 1940s (incl. Post-Scene: Church in London 1941) & 2019 (Post-almost Apocalypse)

Summary: Between the two of them, Crowley knows they’ve seen a lot of things. They can either float through hard times or drown.

Crowley has already made his decision.

“What?” he says, a perfect show of nonchalance. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Aziraphale’s smile widens. His gaze flits down, then back up to meet Crowley’s eyes.

“You look like something out of a film,” Aziraphale says. His hand reaches up in a fluttering gesture towards Crowley’s hat and glasses. “Very debonair.”

↑↓

Longer excerpt (Opening Scene): 

‘Dear, how my mind wanders’, she checked herself. What she meant was, change had to come, unless things were perfect; in which case she supposed they resisted Time. Heaven was changeless.

—Virginia Woolf, Between the Acts

/

I sometimes hold it half a sin

To put in words the grief I feel

—Tennyson, In Memoriam A.H.H.

/

Crowley’s got into a bad habit, over the millennia. It’s sort of like when you make up a rule for yourself, and you’ve got to pretend like it’s true so that it’ll have power over you. If he thinks of the worst thing that can ever possibly happen, then he’s stopped it from happening. Knock on wood.

The problem comes when you imagine things, and then they can come true. Like a car miraculously driving through flames. Like an unbearable loss you were too late to prevent. 

And, of course, there’s a catch (there always is). Crowley has found his mind has created a horrific contradiction. By imagining something over and over and over, he can either avoid it entirely or have brought it upon himself. You have damned yourself. He doesn’t like this sort of gamble. He can never really tell which way it’s going to go. 

Like now, where he knows, of course he knows, he always does—he bloody well knows that there is no smoke on this bus. The thing is, just knowing that doesn’t stop him from smelling it. 

Crowley takes a breath, chances a glance at Aziraphale. He’s looking out of the window, a little crease between his eyes. Thinking, always thinking. Weighing up options. When to flee, when to fight. When to stay. So terribly damned clever. He keeps twirling the scrap of paper over and over in his hands. Miracle it didn’t burn.

The smoke creeps closer, coating his tongue, making his eyes sting. Crowley blinks rapidly, like he’s trying to force spots out of his vision. But, he’s not stared at the sun too long (not this time).

Pages devoured by hungry, relentless flames. Flames around an angel, an angel who should never have flown so close to hell and you put him there, you—

Through the smoke, he can just make out Aziraphale’s lips moving. He’s saying Crowley. Why? Crowley can’t hear, like a radio tuning in on the wrong frequency, over and out. It’s funny, he’d forgotten fire has a sound. The roar around him, inside him. He should—he should move. Can’t suddenly. Crowley, he’s got a gun. Do something! 

Can’t, angel, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Crowley realises he must have said something out loud, because Aziraphale is staring at him. His lips move again, and Crowley strains to listen. 

“Sorry?”

Sound returns in a disorientating rush. Crowley can hear two realities superimposed on one another: Aziraphale looking up at him, the bus engine droning, with flames still surrounding them, licking across every seat.

And Crowley realises the reason Aziraphale is looking up at him is because he is standing in the bus aisle. He has no memory of having moved. Reality seems too sharp, too overwhelming to be real. The interior of the bus shimmers like a mirage. He fights to keep his feet steady.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale says, hushed, careful. “What is it?”

(How do you say I’m worried I’m going to destroy us?)

“Nothing—I’m just…” Crowley hopes how he quickly reaches and clings to the top of a seat for balance can pass as casual. “I’m just going to—need to tell the driver about—about—” 

His throat is closing up, the words dying before they can even be voiced. Perhaps it’s for the best. If he says it out loud, perhaps the fire will really burn. Perhaps Aziraphale will see it, too. 

Air. He needs air. He’s staggering, making his way further down the bus. His hands slide clumsily across a passing window, fumbling for the handle. He can hear Aziraphale following from behind, his footsteps sounding remarkably even. 

“Crowley, stop, would you just—”

“I’m fine, it’s fine, I—”

Crowley’s hand scrabbles for something to hold onto, and slips from the window. Aziraphale takes his hand. Squeezes once. And then, he opens the window like it’s the easiest thing in the world. (Maybe it is). His eyes are alight with understanding. Kindness radiates from the depths, an inner fire, one that Crowley knows will never hurt him.

There’s a cold wind whipping through the window crack, now. Crowley watches as Aziraphale shivers, just a little. Enough. He tries to catch his breath, wills his heart to slow down, wills the smoke to clear.

“You can—” He swallows. “You can close it, now.”

Aziraphale eyes him carefully. He shivers again, but he’s somehow still standing tall, sure, immovable. 

“No, I rather think not,” Aziraphale says.

“Angel, you’re—” Why is it suddenly so hard to speak? “You’re getting cold.”

Aziraphale smiles, fond, like something’s moved him beyond words, and Crowley has no idea what it is. “That hardly matters, my dear.”

“Y-yeah, it does,” Crowley insists. He suddenly has that panicked, familiar feeling that they’re not having the same conversation at all. “It matters if it’s you.”

[jennygirl2014]

White~ Part Two

Summary: The conversation continues now that he’s dropped the bomb on you.  You both attempt to take an easy trip down memory lane, but old memories bring back old feelings.

Warnings: adult themes, mentions of loss of virginity.

              The waitress was nice enough to relocate the two of you two a different table with a clean and dry tablecloth.  You both sat there silently for the longest time, letting the weight of his news linger and settle.  You stirred your coffee after adding the cream and sugar to your liking, and you listened to the silver spoon clink against the sides of the mug as you gazed out the window, at the dark and snowy void.  James, or Mace as he had said, was busy looking over his menu. You had always known him as James. Even when you were younger, and his friends called him Jim, or his parents called him Jimmy, you had always called him James.  This was the same person in front of you that you had seen countless of times before. So why did he suddenly feel like a stranger?  The name? The news? Your own dissonance?

“You know I was going to order food earlier, but I figured I’d wait.” He spoke up without taking his eyes off of the menu, “I had a feeling you would be late.” You turned to him but didn’t answer, “You’re always late.” He chuckled to himself.  “Been that way forever.”

“I guess you think you know me pretty well.”

He scoffed, “I know I do.” It was a true statement.  “I knew you were going to be late, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on time for anything outside of your usual obligations.”

“The weather held me up a bit.” You lied, or tried to.

“I knew you would put two creams and three sugars in your coffee, because you like it sweet.” He glanced up and smirked again, “You always had a sweet tooth.”

“How long have you known that you were leaving?” you changed the subject suddenly.  You watched him fold up his menu and set it back down on the table.

“About a year.” His tone had changed, suddenly he wasn’t being playful anymore.

“When do you leave?”

“A month.” He replied. It took him this long to reach out to you?  

Of course, you couldn’t be mad.  You had made it so he couldn’t contact you many years ago.  You changed your cell number, you made all of your social media accounts private after deleting him, you had even moved away for college.  You were just about to ask another question when the waitress returned.  James ordered himself a steak, rare, with a side of fries and a side salad.  You would have guessed that would be his order, that typical manly act. And then he offhandedly added on a beer, pushing away his coffee.  You knew him just as well as he knew you.  This was him getting comfortable.  The coffee was formal, to keep him alert and on his toes with what he was going to say.  The beer was to relax, maybe to help him get out whatever was on his mind.  And in his mind, the rest of this encounter was going to be casual.  You weren’t sure if you were ready for that. When the waitress turned to you, you realized you hadn’t even looked at the menu.  

“She’ll have the chicken parm, less sauce on the noodles, and a side salad with vinaigrette.” He spoke up for you.  Your eyes darted to him, wide in the witness of his audacity.  “You want a glass of wine or anything?” he asked, raising his brows, illustrating that it was an honest question.  

“Just some water, please.” You turned to the waitress, suddenly just accepting the order he had placed for you.  The funny thing was, he remembered how you would have ordered it after all of these years. There may have been other things on the menu, but you just went along with it.  Just like the old days. Too much like the old days.  

The waitress nodded and walked off with the menus, leaving you alone with your old flame again.  He leaned forward with his arms on the table and looked at you, really looked at you, and smiled.  You suddenly felt defenseless, wondering what was going on in his mind.  You started to feel uncomfortable under his gaze and started looking around, at the windows, at the other tables, anywhere but back at him. How could you even bring yourself to look at him when he had just dropped such a bomb on you?

“You look great.” He broke the ice, again.  Your eyes shifted back to him, and then down at the white tablecloth.  You swallowed hard, battling over feeling offended or giving in to the little flutter of your heart.  “Really, you do.” He pressed the matter further.  Typical James, always bold.

“I’m engaged.” You finally admitted it to him.  You were hoping it would stop him from trying to flirt any further, but also maybe to set boundaries for yourself.  Your boundaries always seemed to slip when it came to him.

“I know.” He replied simply, “I heard.”

“From who?” you were a little shocked.

“You printed an announcement in the paper back home,” he answered as he reached for his beer, lifting it to his lips but pausing, “People talk.  Especially in that town.” He finally took a pull from the bottle.

“So, who told you?”

“It’s not important, is it?”

“Kind of.”

“Did you not want me to know?” he fired a question right back at you.  You scoffed and crossed your arms.

“It’s not about that, I wouldn’t have told you myself if I didn’t want you to know.”

“Okay, fair enough.” He ended the debate there.  Or so you thought, “What’s his name?”

“I thought you said you knew about the announcement.”

“I did, but I forgot the guy’s name.” he chuckled. You hesitated.

“Doug.”

“Doug,” he repeated the name, “Is he good to you?”

“Very much.” You looked him square in the eyes.

“Good, I’d hate to have to kick his ass.” He tried to joke some more, but you just clenched your jaw in response, not amused with him. “When’s the wedding?”

“May.” You gave another short answer. You watched as his eyes slowly fell back down to the table.

“Was I not going to get an invite?” he tried to joke.

“James…” you didn’t even know how to respond to that.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He showed a small smile, “Besides, I’m leaving next month.”

There was a moment of silence.

“How long will you be gone?” you inquired.

“Few years.” He answered with a small shrug, “There’s a lot of variables, hard to nail it down exactly.”

There was more silence.

“Are you scared?” you couldn’t help but ask.  He drew in a deep breath and sighed, looking out the window.

“Not really.  If anything, I’m excited.” He may have been fibbing.

“Can’t wait to be a hero?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, knowing his ego and how it dictated him. He laughed a bit.

“Can’t wait to make a difference.”

“That’s it?” you weren’t buying it, “You’re saving mankind.  You seem to be taking it rather lightly.” You pressed him further, and he shrugged a shoulder again. The small smirk on your lips vanished as you realized there was more going on in his head.  But it was a gamble on whether or not he would share anything further. “What’s really going on?” he didn’t answer, but he reached up and scratched his chin, perhaps delaying.  “You called me here for a reason.”

“I just…” he paused, “I didn’t want to leave with things…not being how I imagined it.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I tell you, will you charge me?” he tried to joke more, another defense mechanism of his.  You both chuckled.

“It’s on the house.” You tried to match his level of humor.  

“Well,” he rubbed his hands together and looked away from you, “I made sure to make things the best they could be with my family and friends, and I’ve got my will in place,” your heart sped up a bit when he mentioned a will, “But I’m just thinking about all of the things I didn’t get to do.”

“Do…do you think…you’re not going to make it back?” you weren’t sure how to ask him.  He only shrugged again.  “Why do you think that?”

“A lot can happen. A lot of things can go wrong.” He paused, “But I think it’s just, you know, having to make a will and make those plans, but that’s standard procedure.  I mean, everyone who goes to space does those things.”

Did they?  There was no way you would know for sure really.

“I guess… what I really mean is, if something were to happen, there are things I never got to do.”

“Like what?”

“Things I never thought about until recently.  I don’t know, like…I never travelled, I wish I had gone to more sporting events…” he trailed off.

“Well, even if you did travel the world, you’d basically be seeing a lot of white anyway.” You chuckled, “And there aren’t a lot of sporting events now with everything.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” He nodded. “Just little things like that.” And then he paused, “I never settled down or started a family.”

It just so happened that you had taken a sip of your water and ended up almost choking on it.  You tried to hide how badly you had been caught off guard and downplay your coughing, but he still got concerned.  “You okay?” he asked.  You nodded and cleared your throat before taking another sip.  You could feel the heat rising on your collar from his admission.  “You sure?”

“Just wasn’t expecting that answer from you.” You certainly weren’t about to tell him why.

“Why?  Do I not seem like the kind of guy that wants kids?” he questioned.  You willed yourself to stay cool, to not let your face go hot or your hands to shake. Did he know?  

“I just…I guess I never got that vibe from you.” You spoke honestly.  

“Time changes a person.” He spoke some words of wisdom, and you nodded slowly in agreement. “I guess I just started to think about what it would be like if I didn’t make it back and I didn’t have a family.  Like if I didn’t leave a legacy of some kind.”

“And what if you did? Did you think about how much it would hurt them to deal with the aftermath of your death?” you questioned him, almost offended at his lack of thought.  If he died, people would be hurt.  You would be hurt.  Even if you wanted to hide it.  You became frazzled and reached for your water again, “It’s not even worth talking about honestly, because you’re going to be fine.” You reassured him, mostly to get off of the topic.  You gulped down some water and looked at him as you set the glass down, and the smile he was wearing was warm and genuine.  It lit you up from the inside out.

“You’d miss me?” of course he picked up on it, but you didn’t answer, instead you chewed your lip a bit, “I mean, I get it…we have history.”

How dare he.

“History?” the word came out of your lips with enough angst for him to feel it on the other side of the table, and he sat back, maybe sensing your reaction.  

Before you could speak again, the waitress reappeared with a basket of breadsticks for the table, and to politely let the two of you know that your food would be ready soon.  You both thanked her, and she excused herself again.  You started to grind your teeth, happy that the woman’s presence had interrupted your irritated reaction, but also not wanting to let it slide.  The man sitting in front of you had been such a large part of your life, and you were not about to let him downplay it.

“History?” you repeated, in a more hushed tone.

“Relationship.” He corrected himself.  

“Sure,” you huffed, “I mean… I don’t even know what to call it.  We never really were official or gave each other titles or anything.” Now you were trying to downplay it, and you weren’t quite sure why.  Maybe you were trying to distance yourself from the memories that were coming back.

“No, we never called each other boyfriend or girlfriend, but you were my girl.  Everybody knew that.” The timbre of his voice resonated in your head and in your chest, and you looked away from him, not being able to bear it at that moment.

“James,” you started slowly, “It was so long ago.  We were kids. It’s okay to look back at it and say we were confused…or maybe we just didn’t know what we were doing…”

“Confused?” then he sounded offended, and his face scrunched up at the word that had thoughtlessly slipped from your lips.  “No, there was no confusion.  Not on my part.  I know we were kids but I knew how I felt about you.”

“Mace,” you addressed him by his new nickname, and it felt foreign, “Do you not remember how it all started?” he huffed in response and shook his head, “Need I remind you of how it all played out?” he knew you were about to take him to task over it.  

“We were in middle school. My friend dared me to kiss you after class.  I knew you were going to say ‘no’, so I just grabbed your face and sort of smashed my lips onto yours.” He started chuckling fondly at the memory, “I had no idea what I was doing.  And you hit me across the face for it.” He shuffled in his seat a bit and smiled wider, “And then we ended up in detention together for it.  I remember you telling me how mad your parents were that their perfect little girl got detention, and that it was all my fault.”

“You’re remembering it wrong.” you informed him after swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Am I?”

“It started way before that. You bullied me and tortured me and teased me relentlessly for years.” You set him straight, and he narrowed his eyes as he inspected you, “Yes!  You did! In elementary school you grabbed me by my pigtails and pulled me down into a mud puddle. And before that you used to call me names and tease me.  Don’t you remember your mom dragging you to my house to force you to apologize?”

“I do remember that.” He sounded pained as he admitted it. “But I never really considered that part of our courtship.”

“Courtship?  Oh God…” you groaned as you rubbed your temples.

“My mom used to always tell me that I was being mean to you because I liked you.  And I didn’t believe her until that first day of eighth grade. You came in to the classroom and you just looked so different.  The pigtails were gone, you weren’t wearing some dress like you always did, and you just looked like you started to grow up.” He smiled again as he recalled that day, “I remembering thinking ‘wow she got hot’.” The sarcastic laughter that broke from deep within your chest caught you both off guard, and you slapped your hand over your mouth to keep from drawing attention to yourself.  What a ridiculous thing to say.

“That’s so stupid.” You finally managed to speak.

“It’s true!”

“But let’s not forget you bragging to your friends in high school about how you were going to bed the bible thumping chick from your science class.” You made sure each word was laced with the disgust you were feeling just from recalling that event.  “We had already started… whatever we were doing at the time.  And you humiliated me by saying that.  I dare you to try and tell me you don’t remember that, or that it was part of some type of courtship.” He stayed silent for a moment before responding.

“Look, I was young and stupid.  I didn’t mean anything by it, I was just showing off.” He held out his hands in defense, “I’m truly sorry about that.” You scoffed and shook your head, turning away from him.  “Hey,” he reached out and touched your hand, “I really am sorry about that.  I shouldn’t have done that.” You kept your eyes off on the distance outside the large window.

That familiar prickling feeling started to nag at you, and your eyes were threatening to start watering up, which surprised you.  How on earth was something that had happened years ago, something you had moved on from, bothering you so much in that moment?  Suddenly there were flashbacks of high school bullying from other girls, whispering rumors about you and calling you a slut behind your back, but loud enough for you to still hear it.  At a slumber party, some girls had taken it upon themselves to stuff your bag full of condoms, and you cried by yourself in the bathroom while waiting for your mother to come pick you up.  You had never dreamed of being that kind of girl, and you felt like you had let your parents down, or the other people who went to church with you and listened to the words your father preached every Sunday morning.  There was a strong sense of pride you felt as the pastor’s daughter, and you had been determined to save yourself until marriage.

But that didn’t happen.

              For years you struggled with yourself, there was a tremendous internal battle you were facing in the silence of your own mind, in the silence of your own secrets.  That chastity bracelet your father had given you on your thirteenth birthday meant nothing after James Mace had charmed you right out of your pink, frilly panties.  The guilt and rage you felt after the fact was enough to drown you, and you swore you would never do it again.  Hell, you even went to the river for your father to baptize you and declare you a virgin again.  But deep down, you knew the damage had already been done, it wasn’t like your innocence had really healed.  And that’s probably what made it easier for you to do it again, and again, and again, until you lost track of how many times you had given yourself to him.  

              Your father had always preached that sin was an easy thing to do, because sin was tempting and often times sweet to the tongue, but did anyone truly have any idea how hard it was?  You couldn’t deny yourself from James, not ever.  You had wanted him as badly as he had wanted you.  You made the grown-up decision to be entangled with him, to give yourself to him.  And then he had disappeared one day, he was just gone, vanished right into thin air, and you felt like he had walked away with the prize of your very soul.  Now here he was again, bringing up ancient history in a way that seemed so innocent and charming that it might as well had been harmless.  He could bring up distant memories and joke all he wanted, but he ripped your heart out and ran off with it.  You couldn’t even begin to count the tears you had spilled over him.  And now here you two were, sitting in front of each other, trying to pretend like everything was fine.  

The dam that was holding your patience in tact and sparing him your anger began to crack and crumble. You turned back to him with a look of fire in your eyes, and not even the tears brimming were going to douse it.

“Are you mad at me?” he questioned, innocently.

“Of course, I am.” The honestly of your answer was apparent in your tone, “But I’m madder at myself. Because after all of that, after everything you put me through in school and that disgusting thing you had said to your friends…I still gave you my virginity.” You drew in a quick breath, “And my parents never forgave me.  I never forgave myself.  I felt so used. You would sweet talk me into something one minute and have me crying the next.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, and you swore you saw shock and hurt behind the cerulean in his eyes.  You abruptly got out of your seat and started rushing to the bathroom, needing to collect yourself before uttering even another word to him.  Your sanity was slipping away at the painful past you were hoping to never live through again.

Next part here.

[minah-delacroix]

At any price (Part VI)

Universe: Dynasty AU

Characters: Minah and Tyler

Word count: 1,7 k

Blame someone

“You can’t punish the guy for trying to move on” Tyler grunted as he followed Minah through the driveway of Delacroix Manor, lined up with luxury cars and clusters of chauffeurs conversing and smoking behind them. The woman could feel Tyler’s eyes boring holes in the back of her head, but she was too focused on the obnoxious feeling of the cool December air hitting her exposed skin to care “I don’t even know why you’re acting up” he continued, making Minah momentarily stop and look over her shoulder with a frown “You weren’t even interested in Sungjae when you had him wrapped around your finger” Minah rolled eyes and continued walking, heels clicking on the pavement. “That’s why I introduced him to Ashleigh”

Minah stopped abruptly, Tyler’s words causing her to look at him skeptically for the briefest moment and then huff furious.

“Wait, you introduced them?” Minah made a pause, thinking to herself before putting the pieces together “That night at the club-” she scoffed free of any amusement “So this is all your fucking fault!” She spat, ignoring what seemed to be hurt flashing in Tyler’s eyes. Minah’s first instinct was to slap him for sabotaging her relationship and meddling in her personal life, but she eventually took notice of her surroundings and decided that she needed to act like a Delacroix.

“If you have to blame someone, then yeah, it is my fault,” Tyler said impatiently “I was just trying to push him away”

“What do you have against Sungjae?” Minah’s voice came as a cross between disbelief and rage

“For fuck’s sake, Minah, I’m talking about you!” Tyler made an exasperated gesture and massaged his forehead with a hand, but Minah still looked puzzled so he gave her a look that almost made her feel like the dumbest person on Earth. “I love you” he finally confessed.

It took Minah a minute to process Tyler’s words. Of course, she’d known he liked her since they were two careless teenagers attending school in some remote place in Switzerland, but she’d always thought it was some sort of silly infatuation. At most, she represented a challenge for the irresistible Tyler Lee. ‘Love’ was a heavy word. Especially when Minah had the clear remembrance of Tara suspecting her brother was secretly seeing someone. Among the evidence Tara had gathered, there were several family plans and work meetings canceled, receipts for expensive luxury items, and intriguing visits to exotic places like the Bahamas, Saint Tropez, and Singapore. Minah didn’t really give it too much thought before, but there was something off about this sudden confession. Or at least Minah desperately wanted something to be off because otherwise, things were about to become awfully complicated for her. For all of them.

“But you’re seeing someone” Minah tried to reason, but the genuinely surprised expression on Tyler’s face made her falter. “Tara said you were. The trips to the Bahamas and Singapore-“ she trailed off. Thinking about the time Tyler canceled an important appointment at the very last minute and disappeared mysteriously only for him to show up two days later looking like he’d been partying in L.A. or gambling in Las Vegas.

“Since being unavailable seems to be the only way to get your attention, then yeah, I was with someone” Tyler conceded, making a near helpless gesture with the hands “And she was hot. Very.” He blurted, looking as though as he couldn’t believe he’d pronounce those words “But she wasn’t you, Minah. She was not the girl I’ve been madly in love with since I was a kid”

______

The ride to Lee Manor was painfully quiet and awkward. Minah’s brain replayed Tyler’s confession over and over and over as though trying to dissect it apart, trying to find a crack where probably there was none.

She recalled being fifteen when she first met Tyler. He was a year older, captain of the polo team, and had girls practically eating out of the palm of his hand. He’d started to pursue her from the moment he saw her —one of the reasons she never took him seriously—, then Maude Olivier came into the picture and dated Tyler for the rest of their high school years. There was nothing too memorable about their history, except the wild parties and follies of youth. Though now that she gave it some thought, Maude’s hatred for Minah had always felt a bit too personal to be downplayed as a simple family feud between the Olivier’s and Delacroix’s.

Tyler’s confession was definitely a turning point for them. Whatever Minah chose to do afterward it was meant to affect greatly her friendship and business with Tyler and probably Tara as well.

However, there was something she knew needed to be done first.

Minah typed two quick messages.

From: Minah Delacroix

To: Suho Kwon

So I could be wrong, but there are

two people stuck on the roof. 

So maybe you can help them out if 

you’re feeling in the holiday spirit. 

I know I am 😏

From: Minah Delacroix

To: Mr. Rausing (CEO of IN-Eco Corp)

I visited Ashleigh at work and I heard 

you’re having problems financing 

your cotton farming project in Peru. 

Thought it over and I am willing to help.

Use me

“I knew you’d be here burning the midnight oil” Later the same night, Minah walked into Tyler’s study room. She found him sitting in front of his computer dressed in his signature dark blue silk pajamas with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hair didn’t look as nearly as immaculate as it did in the party and he’d put on his Gucci reading glasses. He looked so different from the collected and perfectly refined man he schooled himself to be on the daily that for a second Minah hesitated before walking further into his office. 

“I need to work harder if I have to keep up with you” Tyler hurried to close his laptop and when he did Minah realized there was a half-empty 1k bottle of scotch on the desk with a Baccarat tumbler next to it. There was also a book that looked suspiciously like their high-school yearbook. Tyler covered it up placing that morning’s newspaper on top of it. “What do you need Minah?” He asked, jaw visibly clenching. 

“I just came to say I’m sorry” Minah could feel herself sinking in size as Tyler’s eyebrows furrowed, looking at her as though he’s trying to bit down his emotions. Minah inhaled deeply and then gave a few steps toward the window. She saw an Aston Martin pull up the driveway of the manor and thought she could recognize Daniel sitting in the passenger’s seat. “I don’t know why I brought you up to that roof” Minah didn’t dare to look at Tyler so instead she observed Daniel making out with the man in the Aston Martin until she heard the sound of Tyler’s Antonio Citterio highback chair and noticed him approach slowly. 

“I do,” he said with a sour smirk “You were trying to get over that assistant”  Though his voice was calm, Minah could recognize spite lacing Tyler’s words “Only that’s been harder than you thought, so you were using me” his expression tight with a seriousness Minah couldn’t quite decode if it was a product of anger or disappointment. Both probably. 

Minah looked down, feeling the guilt overtake her. She played with the hem of her ruffled georgette pajamas simply because she couldn’t even look at Tyler. She was perfectly aware that she’d done nothing but take and take from him in a never-ending succession of selfish acts. She did the same with Sungjae and ended up pushing him away forever. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Tyler too. “I-“ Minah attempted to mutter some sort of half-assed apology, but the words died in her throat. 

“So, use me,” Tyler said, confidently coming forward. The golden frame of his glasses glowed under the dim light coming from the crystal chandeliers, briefly distracting Minah from her plain confusion. When she came back to her senses she noticed Tyler stood in front of her. 

“What?” The tension between them was thick, but Minah still managed to keep her composure, though the way Tyler’s eyes darkened caused Minah to gulp almost imperceptibly

“You were only with that guy because it was easy for you” Tyler’s eyes looked right into Minah’s “Convenient” he added “You don’t have time for a real relationship because you’re too busy conquering the world” Minah deliberately took a step forth, then they were only inches away from each other. “Where else could you find someone with the same schedule?” He rolled eyes at the same time his hand brushed against the skin of her thigh “But you know? I could fit you in” Tyler’s expression shifted, as he moved behind Minah, his breath on the back of her neck “If you fit me in” 

Minah was about to respond with some witty remark, but she gasped when the pads of Tyler’s fingers came in contact with her neck and gently moved her hair onto one shoulder. Minah pivoted on her heels to face him but was taken aback when she realized she practically threw herself into his arms. They were closer than she had anticipated. “Are you possibly suggesting you want to be my rebound?” She managed to conceal her surprise and went on

“Isn’t that why you’re here so late?” Tyler raised a brow.

Minah chuckled and shook her head, there was something particularly annoying about the high regard Tyler had of himself, but truth to be told, he wasn’t entirely mistaken. As a matter of fact, Minah knew that something was bound to happen if she stepped into Tyler’s study room. And she still went to look for him. Nevertheless, she hopelessly tried to find an excuse “But we’ve agreed to keep this strictly business-” 

“And we’re at work, aren’t we?” A soft chuckle escaped Tyler’s lips before he closed the gap separating him from Minah and crashed his lips against hers in a flurry of desperation. 

Before any of them noticed or did anything to stop each other, Minah was lying half-naked on Tyler’s presidential desk, his mouth gliding a path down her body.

...

[you-are-my-neverland]

nano 2020 final update

                now playing: a playlist for yourself sad (slowed down songs)

final wc. 57, 114 words

general thoughts:

let me try to keep this short: i won!!! honestly, it was very exciting, considering this is like my sixth nano and the only one i’ve cracked an actual 50k on - ahead of schedule, too! (and on that - congrats to everyone who wrote this month! you all did awesome, even if you didn’t make your goal <3). 

my writing pace slowed a little, which was fine - we did have thanksgiving break, but honestly that was just for me to further relax (& upon return the stress of school slammed full force hhhh). it’s been a bit tricky because i do have a large ensemble cast of varying importance whose relevance will likely cycle around, but incorporating them into the story is difficult. i’m trying to build relationships for further chapters, but without forgetting or sidelining anyone too much. it’s been a bit crazy, especially since my outline is not super detailed and i didn’t ever get around to writing my character arcs for book 1 like i was planning on. oh well.

we did hit the first little conflict hill though!! 

the future:

honestly, i don’t know where i’m going with this - not my wip, but like with writing it and posting updates. this is technically my final nano update, but like i don’t plan on stopping writing this regularly because might as well ride with it, you know? anyways. i think when i have a title, i’ll make a wip intro about it. hopefully my writing doesn’t peter off - i’ll have to try to police myself, like that ever works out (well it did this year but. you know).

if you want to be on a taglist for future possible updates, let me know! right now it’s just @semblanche <3

also here’s the pinterest which i am still building and organizing (i’ll create a spotify playlist in due time)

some scenes:

(beneath the cut because i went a little overboard)

“You jest,” Eden said, looking amused. Ophelia noticed he wasn’t wrinkling his brow as much anymore, as if the headache had finally gone away, or at least she had distracted him from it, which she took as a win.

“I am only ever perfectly serious,” she said. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Eden replied.

They looked out at the ocean a while longer.

notes: ophelia and eden (& sebastian) as friends with a certain vibe that i really like ... they’re kind of cute okay <3 but insofar platonic

“That’s fine, I always keep elastic ones on me,” Luce replied, continuing to chat as she began to braid after dividing Ophelia’s hair into a neat part. “Your hair is so nice and straight. It does whatever I want it too. I usually practice hairdos on Laurie, but both of her hair never wants to obey the laws of gravity or force, you know? I’m not pulling too tight, am I?”

Ophelia, who had actually sunk into a relaxed state and felt rather as if she had transcended—it had been so long since someone had touched her hair, her mother stopping brushing it long ago—almost missed the question, before quickly saying, “No, it feels really nice.”

notes: trying to build and integrate ophelia, luce & briar friendship so ophelia can have actual good friendships, also because healthy girl friendships are necessary for any good work xD

Asriel glanced at her over his shoulder, the flames casting a sharp outline across his narrow profile. “It’s not my fault if you take offense to every small thing. Maybe you should think about why you consider that to be a personal attack on you. Perhaps you’re doing something wrong?”

Ophelia exhaled sharply and looked away from him, her fist dropping to her side. She could feel tears pricking at her eyes, and it was so infuriating that she almost wanted to cry—cry over the fact that a single sentence made her want to cry to even begin with. 

“Forget this,” she said, forcing herself to speak slowly as to not betray the tightness of her throat she felt all of the sudden. “I don’t need to go with you. I’ll make it out on my own. Have fun in the dark.” She stormed past him, shoulder checking him into the wall, and focused on her feet and surroundings carefully, not willing to embarrass herself any further.

“Ophelia,” Asriel said. Just her name. Nothing else. It was enough to make her stop, even as she insistently told her feet to keep going. She looked just barely over her shoulder at him and saw his body sigh with the sound of it leaving his lips. “Let’s go together,” he said, coming up to stand next to her. 

“No way,” she said. “You  might ‘need’ me, but I definitely don’t need you.”

notes: anyways ophelia & asriel are supposed to be like rivals and the reader isn’t supposed to like asriel that much, but also my personal bias shines through in my writing and i once again make my intentions obvious (enemies to lovers hghjskjs)

She opened her eyes and looked up to see Asriel staring back at her, sitting on the ledge and dangling his feet, a hand still over hers, despite the flames that had started to dance across his skin as well. He didn’t so much as flinch, though Ophelia could make out the slight reddening of his skin beneath the fire. She frowned at that and considered reeling it back in, but who was she if he wanted to risk his life? People got burned. It wasn’t anything that a healer couldn’t solve.   

She was struck by his gaze. Not that it carried much intensity, but by the fact that it didn’t—he looked at her as he looked at everything else, with a gaze that simply swept by one momentarily and deemed it not worth his interest. Nothing was worth his interest. Nothing made him smile or laugh; he only frowned, slightly, at some things, sometimes at Ophelia, but he never looked at her with the burning hatred she felt he must see on her face every time they made eye contact. 

notes: uh oh this rivalry might have been one sided the entire time? hm.

“You could have killed me.” When she looked up, her eyes were rimmed with red and her voice was raw with some unspoken emotion.

Asriel didn’t flinch. “It was a risk I was willing to take.”

“You don’t get to gamble with my life,” Ophelia said, spitting out each word as if they hurt her to say.

“It wasn’t even real,” Asriel replied, unbothered and unfazed.

“Merlin,” Ophelia whispered, looking away and then staggered to her feet, hands clenched into fists at her side. “I hate you so much. I wish I had made all of you burn alive.” She turned and slammed through the door, letting it bang shut with an echo that resonated throughout the room.

notes: oh yeah. this is why she doesn’t like him lol. 

“How classy,” Bell drawled. “Ruel, do you think he should be allowed to rebel with us?”

Ruel shrugged her knobby shoulders, popping her bubble and swallowing the gum back between her teeth. “We shouldn’t invite people.” They exchanged a look with weighted emotions in their eyes that felt much too serious for the current situation. Asriel felt his fingers tighten around his arms, cutting off the circulation, as he waited.

“True enough.” Their heads turned in unison to blink at a still standing Asriel: Ruel’s heavy lidded pale gray blue ones and Bell’s dark brown eyes with the thin double eyelid crease.

“See you around, then,” Bell said. “If it’s fate, we’ll meet again.”

Asriel bit back a scoff, a short huff escaping his lips instead. “If that’s that you believe.”

“Ah, so he’s a skeptic,” Bell remarked, voice cold and eyes narrowing.

Asriel gave them both a long look, feeling slightly amused at the conversation and somewhat curious about what a further one would entail.

“I don’t believe in fate,” he said. “And even if fate does exist, it’s far from impartial.”

“Is that your way of saying you doubt we’ve made fate’s favorites list?” Bell asked, looking like they were half joking and half actually interested in what Asriel had to say.

“I don’t know,” Asriel said. “Do you honestly believe fate has taken any notice of you at all?”

“I’m not one of the Divine,” Bell said. “So I couldn’t say, honestly. Could you?”

Asriel let his hands drop to his sides, where he tucked them into his pockets and ignored the burn and pain that came with the movements. 

“I would hope,” he started softly. “That fate has no plans for me at all. Good day.

notes: asriel pov asriel pov asriel pov! the way he’s one of what i like to call the core four (not me writing cour fore rip omg, but also that’s sebastian, ophelia, vincent, and him - our mcs if i ever had such a thing) but this is his first pov in 50k. bell & ruel are two minor characters that kind of wormed their way into my heart and now i think i’m attached - maybe they’ll all be friends. 

[bytheangell]

Second Chances at First Impressions

(Read on AO3) Square Filled: First Date // Ship: Clace // Rating: General // Tags: Christmas fluff, first dates, holidays, Post-Canon Summary:   Not wanting Clary to be left alone for the holiday, Jace invites her to spend it with his family - and Clary feels right at home though she doesn't know why her time with the Lightwoods feels so natural. Created for @shadowhunterbingo

—

It’s a dating auction for charity, but with a twist: several of the art classes at the local college are auctioning off paintings - and whoever wins the painting also wins a coffee ‘date’ with the artist after the auction. Obviously, as no genders or appearances will be known, it’s set up as less of a date-date and more of a chance to meet and talk with someone new. 

Jace has no way of knowing whether Clary’s even going to participate, but he’s willing to gamble on yes as he situates himself in the audience looking spectacularly out of place for an art auction in his ripped jeans and leather jacket.  Clary’s never turned down the chance to help people, he can’t imagine she’d stop now. 

He’s right. The moment the 9th painting is brought out he knows that it’s hers - he’s been going to her exhibits, watching the evolution of her work. He may not know much about art in general but he knows a lot about Clary’s art - her use of colors to give hints at scenes just beyond the canvas, the way the brush strokes grow thicker and the colors more prominent where her emotions take over and she gets a little too into the work, a little too heavy-handed. 

He wins the auction after a very strenuous back-and-forth with a middle-aged woman, and has to act surprised when he’s brought over to ‘meet’ the artist. 

“You again!” Clary says, smiling. “Jace, right?” 

“You remembered, I’m touched,” Jace says, smiling with just the right amount of teasing. 

“Yeah, well, it isn’t often someone runs away from me at my own exhibition,” Clary points out, joking just as easily. 

“No running away this time, you’re stuck with me for an entire coffee,” Jace promises, motioning for her to lead the way out. “Java Jones?” 

“That’s my favorite! How did you know?” Clary asks. 

“I didn’t. That just happens to be my favorite,” he covers quickly. 

“Huh,” Clary muses, but doesn’t comment on it any further than that. Instead they chat, about the crazy up and down temperatures lately, about Clary’s classes, about Jace’s work. He freezes for only a second before deciding on a whim to say it’s training in, and teaching, various forms of martial arts... which isn’t entirely off base.  

Soon they start talking about Clary’s artwork, and once Clary starts she doesn’t stop. Jace listens with his entire focus on her, asking questions and commenting here and there. He starts one too many sentences with “This girl I knew used to-” for everything he has to add, because everything he knows about art he learned from watching her during her time at the Institute, not that he can tell her that. 

The hour they’re scheduled for flies by, and the next thing they know it’s been two hours, three drink refills, and they’re still talking when the barrista comes around to warn them they’re about to close. 

“Oh my goodness,” Clary says, looking at the clock on the wall. “I can’t believe I kept you here so long, I didn’t realize how late it was!” 

Jace smiles and shakes his head. “I wasn’t exactly trying to leave, you know,” he points out. 

And it’s true. Even without having the Shadow World to talk about, it’s like falling back into stride with an old friend talking with Clary, where everything is so much easier than he ever expected. It’s a blessing and a curse because as nice as their conversation was he knows this is only for the night, and once he walks out of here she’ll probably never speak to him again. 

“I think I’m just starved for company this week. Everyone else went home for break, I think I’m the only one left on campus,” she says, trying to laugh off the statement though he can tell she’s at least a little bothered by it. 

He almost asks why she stayed behind when he remembers - she doesn’t have anywhere else to go for the holidays.  

His heart breaks, and before he can think twice the words are tumbling out of his mouth. 

“Why don’t you spend Christmas with me?” 

“What?” Clary asks, clearly surprised by the offer. 

“I mean, not just me. My family. It isn’t anything big but you’re more than welcome. What’s that saying? There’s always room for one more?” Jace ignores the voice in the back of his head telling him how terrible of an idea this is, especially when he catches the hint of

“I couldn’t. I barely know you-” Clary starts, but Jace cuts her off before she can completely turn the offer down. 

“Really, it wouldn’t be a problem at all. My mom always makes way too much food, and my brother’s husband makes the most amazing cocktails. And I have this feeling you’ll get along really well with all of them. In fact, right now I’m the only one not bringing someone along, so you’d be doing me a favor.” Jace pauses, realizing how that might sound. “Just as friends. And if you hate it you can turn around and leave. What do you have to lose?” 

He knows he might be trying a little too hard to get her to agree, but he can’t imagine a scenario where he walks away from her right now to leave her entirely alone for the next two days heating up Christmas dinner in a dorm microwave, or eating alone at a diner. 

Clary considers the offer for a very long minute or two before sighing. “I guess it couldn’t hurt. But if it’s awkward you have to cover for me leaving early.” “Deal,” Jace agrees immediately, pulling out his phone. “Give me your number and I’ll text you the address.” 

She does, putting her name in as ‘Clary’ with a little paintbrush icon. Jace immediately sends her a text with Maryse’s address. 

“I’ll see you then,” he says, resisting the urge to hug her goodbye. He doesn’t want to push his luck, and he wants to make sure she’s comfortable enough to follow through on the offer in two days.

To his surprise, Clary’s the one who takes one step to leave, stops, and turns back to wrap her arms around his middle for just a few seconds. 

“Thank you, Jace,” she says as she pulls away, and this time doesn’t look back. 

---

They do breakfast and presents with Simon and Luke who both leave before Clary is due to arrive. As far as Jace could figure out from his time with Clary, her memories of the two of them were altered in a way similar to Simon’s mother’s, so it wouldn’t do to have her completely blindsided walking into a room with the two of them. It’s enough of a risk with the rest of the Lightwoods and Lightwood-Banes - something Alec brings up one last time. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Alec asks. 

“It’ll be fine. We just can’t let the wrong things slip out… we did it once before, you all managed that dinner with Charlie,” Izzy reminds him. 

“Does Clary think we’re jewelers too, then?” Alec asks with a slight smirk. 

“You can do whatever you want. I’m a martial arts instructor,” Jace reminds him. 

“Of course you are, blondie,” Magnus says, walking over with a drink in hand. “But Isabelle’s right. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” He doesn’t bring back up the contingency plan of being able to wipe this day from her mind and send her on her way if it backfires spectacularly, because Jace hates the idea and only bristles and insists they won’t need that. 

“Better than leaving the poor girl alone for the holidays,” Maryse agrees. 

“She might not even show. I mean, it’s a weird offer from a guy she only spoke to twice,” Jace points out. And when it hits ten, and then twenty minutes past the point Jace told Clary to come over they’re pretty sure she decided just that. 

Until the doorbell rings. 

Jace goes to answer it, beaming when he sees Clary in the hallway holding up a bottle of wine. 

“Happy Holidays,” she says. “I hope this is alright. I didn’t want to bring nothing, but I didn’t know what anyone liked…”

“It’s lovely,” Maryse says, coming up behind Jace. “Come inside, take your coat off, dear. I’m Maryse, by the way. We’re so glad you decided to come.” 

“Thank you for having me,” Clary says. “I’m Clary.” 

Jace watches Clary’s eyes dart around the room, taking in the number of people she doesn’t know and swallowing back a moment of nervousness. Jace wonders if maybe this is too much for her - perhaps he should’ve arranged to do something with just her rather than expose her to all of the Lightwoods all at once. 

But a moment later Izzy is bounding over with a bright smile. “I’m Izzy! So glad you could make it! I’m tired of being outnumbered by all the guys here,” she whispers conspiratorially to Clary who laughs and allows herself to be led off to grab a drink. 

It’s roughly half an hour later, with Izzy making her way quickly across the living room to grab something from her bag, when Maryse says, “I don’t know how you manage those heels on this carpeting.”  

“There’s nothing she can’t do in heels,” Clary chimes in, and Izzy and Jace share a look. Clary doesn’t even seem to realize she said it, turning right back to whatever she’d been discussing previously. 

It isn’t the only time it happens, either. Magnus calls her ‘Biscuit’ and Clary only smiles and says, “It’s been a while since anyone called me that.” Another time she brings up archery to Alec. 

“How did you know I shoot?” Alec asks slowly, eyebrow raised. 

“What? Oh. Jace must’ve mentioned it over coffee,” Clary says with a shrug. Alec looks over at Jace who only shakes his head slowly. 

Jace isn’t sure if it’s good or bad that Clary remembers more about them than just his name, but he’s certain that she has no idea she’s even doing it. Dinner is full of laughter and stories with just as much attention paid to Clary as to anyone else at the table, possibly more so as everyone - even Alec - goes out of their way to make sure she’s comfortable. They sit next to one another at the table, and more than once he catches himself getting lost watching her laugh over something Magnus said or blush over a compliment from Izzy. He also catches her staring at him a few times, too, though she’s always quick to look away once he does. 

Refusing to get his hopes up Jace does his best not to read into those little moments. He did invite her here as just friends, after all, and he’s sticking to it - if he can keep Clary in his life, even just as a casual acquaintance, it’s better than the total lack of her he suffered the past year. It’d have to be enough, and he’s determined not to scare her away and ruin even that. 

“I hope I didn’t impose too much,” Clary says at the end of the night. 

“Not at all, Clary,” Maryse promises. 

“In fact, we lost a good friend last year who you remind me a lot of… it was nice to have that energy around again,” Magnus adds, earning himself a warning glare from Alec which he pretends not to see.

“Oh, and it’s started to snow! ” Izzy announces from the window, turning around with a smile before Clary can read too much into Magnus’ comment and before the mood grows too somber. “We haven’t had a white Christmas since we were kids!” 

“Let me walk you back,” Jace offers, and Clary looks like she might argue for just a moment before giving him a small nod. 

“Alright,” she agrees, grabbing her coat and saying quick round of goodbyes to everyone before the two of them are out the door and on the snowy street below. It takes every bit of restraint Jace has within himself to not reach over to grab her hand as they walk, or move closer as they walk. He misses this. 

“I know I said it before, but thank you again for inviting me. Everyone was so welcoming, and honestly? I felt so comfortable around your family, like I’ve known them for months, not hours.” Clary says with a happy sigh.

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Jace says. 

Once they’re back at Clary’s dorm Jace hesitates. There’s so much he wants to say but he’s afraid of scaring her away, of being too much too soon, that he’ll come across as too eager to have her back in his life for someone who should, as far as she knows, barely know her. 

Before he can say anything, still trying to figure out how to ask to see her again as casually as possible, Clary speaks first. 

“I know you said this was just as friends,” Clary says, carefully avoiding his gaze as she talks. “But… I wouldn’t mind if it was more. Unless I’m totally misreading this and you were just being nice, which is totally fine-” 

“Do I get to answer?” Jace cuts her off, unable to keep the smirk from his face. “Because I think this was a perfect first date.” 

Clary relaxes at his words, smiling back. “Me too. Well, almost perfect,” she adds, taking a step closer to him. 

Jace closes the rest of the distance between them, their lips meeting amidst a flurry of snowflakes. There’s an immediate warmth between them, the spark of a connection that’s still there. He doesn’t have to wonder if Clary can feel it too - he feels her gasp against his lips at the spark between them, so intense it’s palpable, just like that moment in the alley the night of her exhibit. 

“What-” she starts, but the words trail off. He knows she can feel it, their past just beneath the surface, but not enough to put words to it. Instead she falls contemplatively silent again instead. 

“Setting the bar pretty high for a first date, aren’t we?” Jace observes. 

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem,” Clary counters, leaning up for another kiss, this time bringing her arms around his waist to pull him closer. “After all, this wasn’t even supposed to be a date - we weren’t even trying.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Jace says with a huff, and finds himself rewarded with a laugh Clary tries, and fails, to hide behind the hand she brings up to her mouth. “But you’re right. With a little planning I think I can arrange for us to go ice skating next time.” 

“I used to ice skate all the time when I was little,” Clary says with a soft smile. “I haven’t been in years, though. I’d love that.”

It’s obvious neither of them want to be the one to walk away first but as the snow continues to fall and the temperature drops they finally part ways with the promise to make plans again soon. 

Jace’s phone buzzes almost as soon as the door shuts behind Clary. 

Clary: Too soon to make those plans?

And with a smile he wastes no time in replying:

Jace: Free tomorrow? 

He already knows so much about her he doesn’t like lying to go along with this ‘first date’ label, acting like he doesn’t love her with everything he has and then some, but it isn’t like he can tell her. All he can do is start over and hope the pieces fall into place the way they’re meant to - the way they did once before and hopefully will again. Angels be damned, Jace thought their happy ending was lost forever, but now?

Now that he has his second chance he isn’t going to let another second go by without Clary in his life. 

[joysbell]

A Mountain of Fire and Blood: Chapter 1

Nesta stood on the plush blue carpet in the formal business room, or whatever Feyre called it, of her sister’s river estate. She held a sac tightly in her arms, waiting for Feyre’s mate to winnow the three of them to the cabin Nesta was being banished to in the Illyrian mountains. The sac held her most important possessions and was rather heavy due to its contents being mostly books. Her nostrils flared. Where the hell was that prick her sister had married—his insufferable high lordness—that she refused to recognize had any control over her. No. Maybe her sister, Feyre, did. But certainly not that ass.

Her sister sat up straight in a nearby ornate chair. Her hands rested on her thighs, and Nesta admitted she looked slightly nervous. Good. Nesta hoped she was questioning her decision to kick her out of Velaris, to stop paying her rent, her tabs. Even if Nesta’s behavior was questionable, at best, her sister had dragged her into this life that she had never wanted to be a part of. Her sister and her damned mate. Nesta shot her sister a look of disgust. “Where is he?”

Feyre sat up a little straighter. “He’s coming.” She smoothed her dress and held her sister’s eyes. “Try to think about this differently, Nesta. It’s not a punishment.”

It wasn’t? Because it certainly felt like one. Her sister held all the power and had decided to press Nesta under her thumb, to move her wherever she pleased because she knew that Nesta had no other choice, no other option. Feyre did not agree with her lifestyle, which was laughable, because Nesta could count on more than one hand the terrible decisions Feyre had made—but she was safe from judgment, she was lucky, she was adored. She was High Lady of the Night Court.

Nesta spun away and remained silent. At least Feyre had shown up to carry out the sentence she had dealt. Elain was nowhere to be seen. Nesta imagined she was baking bread or tending to her gardens. Her beloved little sister had passed judgment on her, too. That hurt so much more than Feyre and her friend’s choice—that fact that Elain had agreed—they had probably held a vote. Nesta had stood by Elain while she had remained mute, lovesick, and utterly horror-shocked.

Perhaps Nesta had not always made the best choices. But did she really deserve this? They were throwing her away like garbage. To a relentlessly cold, unforgiving place. Maybe they thought it was perfect for her.

It was at that moment that Rhysand finally winnowed into the study. He wore his usual attire—black, intricate silver embellishments. He looked hard, void of the gentleness he saved for his circle. No. Absolutely none of that for her. Just repulsion. “Let’s go,” he said. Rhysand held out two hands, expectantly.

Nesta watched her sister rise, instantly more confident in the presence of her mate. Feyre lived well in her decision. “Okay,” Feyre said, grabbing Rhysand’s hand. When Nesta didn’t move, Feyre nudged her with her eyes, looking to her mate’s other hand. “Nesta.”

She could not remember the last time she had touched the High Lord, and did not want to feel that immense power, which she knew he would send through her, it would be ice in her veins. Bastard. She lunged forward, moving her sac to one arm, and roughly grabbed his hand. If he was going to be gruff, she would match him and more. There was nothing but liquid abhorrence behind her blue-gray eyes.

They instantly traveled.

Nesta felt slightly lightheaded, standing in the middle of a cabin. The walls, floors, and furniture were all varying types of wood. It was dark. The only light came from the fire in a nearby hearth, and those sounds immediately flooded her senses—crack, pop, snap. She almost dropped her bag.

The cabin became more illuminated as candles were suddenly lit. Nesta stood in an open space, next to a couch, some chairs, and a low table. The kitchen and front door, she noted, was to her left. There was a strong feeling to run toward the exit, into whatever lay outside. But her wine-stained slip shoes were not made for the snow she imagined she would meet.

Feyre spoke as she moved to the kitchen. “It’s cozy here.”

Nesta might have agreed under different circumstances. She dropped her bag beside her and sat down on the couch, not willing herself to look around any further. The healthy fire still sang a horrific song to her.

“Elain and I were here earlier cleaning up.” Feyre seemed to be making herself busy, adjusting things. “Elain gave you a couple plants,” she said, pointing around the room. “You will have to water them.”

Nesta seethed. She really didn’t care about her sister’s fucking plants. She was here. And she wanted to be left alone.

Rhysand moved to Feyre in the kitchen and muttered quietly, “I’ll tell Cassian to water them.”

Cassian. In the hours leading up to her arrival Nesta had put her thoughts on the Illyrian warrior on the back burner. She had been too busy pacing around her apartment, rushing to pack the items she had not the night before, when instead of preparing for today she had gone out to gamble and seek crooked company.

But yesterday morning Cassian had overseen her journey from apartment to river estate. And told her where she would be going when Feyre declared she no longer wanted Nesta in her precious city. You’re coming with me to the Illyrian Mountains, he’d said.

Cassian was probably here in these same mountains, right now. She couldn’t feel him, though, so he wasn’t in the proximity. His role in this plot was not clear yet, but his presence was going to make it even more agonizing. She did not need that brute checking on her, flashing his cocky grin at her. But she was in his domain.

Done with adjusting, Feyre piped up. “Cassian will come once a day, starting tomorrow.”

“I don’t want him to come, I don’t need him to come,” Nesta spit from her spot on the couch.

Rhysand slowly closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We need someone to make sure you’re not dead.” Feyre shot him a look and hit him, silently telling him to be quiet.

“Then send someone else” said Nesta.

Feyre moved closer to her sister. “It’s the most practical. He lives here. Otherwise, we’d need someone who could winnow. Rhysand, or Mor—”

Horrible options. Apparently, her sister was not going to leave Nesta alone to slowly decay here. It wasn’t a death sentence, but a prison.

At this moment, all Nesta wanted was for them to leave. She would say anything to make that happen. “Fine, send Cassian.”

Feyre nodded and changed the subject. “There’s food in the icebox, Elain made some bread, and there are books that she bought—”

“Just. Go.” Nesta lifted her head and glared at her sister and her mate. She would say nothing else.

Rhysand was silent and held out his hand. He did not need any more dismissal; but, Feyre seemed to slump. Her frown held more sadness than she had obviously prepared for.

Did she expect this to go any better?

“Okay,” Feyre said, much quieter than she usually spoke. “We’ll see you soon.” And then she grabbed her mate’s hand and they were gone.

Nesta was finally alone. She boiled inside. Left in the woods with no money, no booze, and no men. They had secured her inability to carry out the behavior they disapproved of so much.

Across the living room Nesta got lost for a moment in the fire’s flames. The colors mimicked the white-hot rage inside her. In an abrupt movement, Nesta moved from the couch to the small kitchen. Ripping open the cabinet underneath the sink she found a metal bucket. She filled it, standing at the sink, looking out the window. It was dark outside. A gust made the trees dance and the moon reflected off the snow.

When the bucket was full Nesta lifted it from the sink, moving toward her target. Crack, pop, snap… Swiftly, she dumped the bucket on the fire. It fizzled out with a hiss and smoke drifted across the room.

A/N: Hi. Nessian is my heart right now. I hope you like this :hug:

[sidereal-fantasies]

Blurb Time! It takes a traitor to know one...

Out of all the experiments you worked on, Jung Wooyoung was the most unstable. He knew how to push people’s buttons in all the right ways. He knew how to manipulate people to get what he wanted. The sweet sensation of seeing people crack underneath was all Wooyoung ever wanted to witness. It was a desire, he called it; a desire to fulfill the empty space that all the negativity left him with. And he was willing to satisfy his thirst to feel something even if it meant hurting those that put their trust into him.

The room Wooyoung resided in was the last one down a barely traveled hallway. The fluorescent lights in the neighboring corridor was the only source of light that flooded that area. After attempting to gather your thoughts once again and heading out to finish your task, you quickly ducked into that hallway and made your way towards the iron door, keys in one hand yet no weapon in the other.

“Alice, you’ve returned!” Wooyoung exclaimed once his gaze landed on you as you entered the room. You remained some distance away from the lilac haired man, hesitant to approach any further for the time being. You were surprised to see no mask in sight and even less chains than you remembered the last time. “We need to have a short chat,” you stated as you jingled a pair of keys in front of him. “Traitor to traitor.”

The grin plastered on Wooyoung’s lips only grew wider before he bursted into a fit of laughter. “So you’ve accepted your fate as well? I who betrayed a few of my brothers and you who fooled everyone around you? There is nothing, but there is also everything to chat about.”

“And you’re still mad as a hatter,” you muttered under your breath. You finally approached him and grabbed a handful of the chains leading to the man kneeling beside you. You shivered at the thought of how long Wooyoung was left like this, chained and stolen of his freedom. True, he was unstable, but you still believed that something could have changed if you weren’t blinded by everything. If only you listened, then maybe fate wouldn’t have been as harsh.

“Well, what do you want to chat about? Must be important if Mingi left you to free me,” Wooyoung urged you. It was your turn to laugh now. Your dried eyes watered slightly from all the tears you spilled moments before coming to this room. You still weren’t sure if your mind was stable enough to carry on a conversation, but here you were, playing with time and your life as if it was worth nothing. “Are you gambling with your potential freedom here?”

“Not at all,” Wooyoung countered, still beaming brightly. “Just generally curious as to why a person like you who’s obviously two steps away from falling off the edge would want some answers that they may not want to hear.”

“First question,” you began without a second thought, “why did you do it? Why did you sell San away like that? Why did you let them use Yeosang like that? Why did you do it all?”

Wooyoung’s eyes glimmered faintly as he watched a few chains fall away from him, his aching bones already feeling light as a feather. “Just like you, I wanted to survive. So, I let them condition San to be the perfect soldier after I told them of his natural abilities. I let them lock Yeosang away like that after I convinced them of the threat he could be. Lie after lie after lie, I did with the intention of surviving.”

“Really now? Or maybe it was for some unknown treasure promised to you,” you mused. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Wooyoung slightly flinch at your words. Complete survival would have meant total sacrifice in your eyes. Someone promised him something and it unfortunately led to the current predicament he was in.

“Next question, you’re obviously playing along with the plan. Why, though? What are you trying to gain from me losing my mind?”

Wooyoung was oddly quiet for a moment, causing you to sneak a curious glance at him. The atmosphere shifted, pressing down on your shoulders instead as you worked on the remaining lock.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Wooyoung questioned softly. “You’re just like us, but completely different at the same time. You’re a counterpart just like us, but the negativity didn’t rob you like us. You’re cruel like us, but you can actually feel. You taught Yunho how to imitate emotions, thinking it would ease some of us, but it didn’t, [Name]. It felt like you were laughing at us while we all got our heads chopped off.”

You swore you could hear something shatter completely inside of you, causing you to pause for a brief moment before continuing on.

“Aren’t you doing the same thing, though?” You retorted. Wooyoung froze as he gazed up at you, watching you quietly fumble with the last lock as tears glazed over your eyes. “I am a counterpart, just like you said. A failed one at that since I still have emotions. I bottled them up in fear that they would take them away. I got it easy, just like Yeosang told me. But it was my mistake, just like Mingi told me. By bottling it all up, I created this mess— my Wonderland. And with that, I destroyed all of you.”

The final lock fell with a loud thud along the remnants of your mind. Having emotions was just as cruel as being numb. Nothing could be gained from it other than a fragmented mind and a loss of sanity.

“You all succeeded though. I don’t think—”

“Then don’t speak,” Wooyoung interrupted as he slowly rose to his feet. His hand gently wrapped around your wrist just before he began to tug you along. The unspoken words were vile, almost sickening as they fell back into the abyss that was your mind. Pitiful, you thought. All you wanted to do in that moment was rip your hair off your scalp. After all, Jung Wooyoung was your mirror. A traitor facing a reality that they built themselves, never truly holding any intention to harm someone. The cruelty you inflicted on all of them just for the sake of survival left you with a much more severe punishment than what Wooyoung had endured with all those chains. Or so you thought.

Your gaze traveled down to where Wooyoung was holding you, the sleeve of his jacket slowly rising naturally due to his efforts in making sure you followed him out. It was hard to see the exposed skin until the two of you entered the dingy hallway.

That’s when you saw all the bruises that decorated his skin like paint splatters on a canvas.

[wombathos]

here’s some more of that She Ra role reversal AU, this time with a conversation between Glimmer and an imprisoned Catra. POV Glimmer, 2,2k words

“You ready to talk?”

All Glimmer gets in response is a baleful look from the huddled figure in the corner. She balls her fists. It’s ridiculous, the way the nameless stranger is behaving: she has a perfectly nice bed with fluffy blankets and pillows and all sorts of comforts. Instead, she’s lurking in the corner, knees tucked close and head propped on folded arms. If her eyes didn’t shine so brightly, Glimmer wouldn’t be sure whether she were paying attention at all.

“Look, we didn’t attack you,” she says in what she hopes is a reasonable tone, but probably comes out a bit irritable. She takes a deep breath, ignoring the voice in the back of her head telling her she should’ve taken Bow with her. No. She can do this. “They did. Bow and I protected you from them.”

No response.

“And you helped us.”

“No, I didn’t.” The voice is muffled but unmistakeable and the tail that has been furled around her figure loosens to languidly slap against the carpet of the cell, allowing their guest to shift and look properly at Glimmer. “I was protecting myself.”

“You stopped them from hurting the villagers.”

“They just got in the way.”

Glimmer is about to snap that of course that’s what an evil Horde soldier would say, then stops herself. “It doesn’t matter,” she says, more to herself than anything else, but this gets their nameless guest’s attention.

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” says Glimmer, “that I don’t care what you were before. What matters is that you’re here now.”

A low chuckle. Glimmer tries to be encouraged by this hint of humour, but it’s not particularly encouraging. “How generous of you.”

“I’m trying,” she responds, and she knows there’s an edge to her voice now. Keep it together, Glimmer. Keep it together. “I don’t think you’re our enemy.”

“I’m from the Horde. You’re a princess. Of course we’re enemies.”

“But you’re not with the Horde any more, are you?”

No response. Again.

Glimmer thinks back to the confrontation with their dreck in the Whispering Woods, that horrible moment when her heart had nearly stopped, when their prisoner had run towards the Horde soldiers. When they started firing… Glimmer doesn’t think she’ll ever forget her prisoner’s face before she had pulled her aside. Hurt, yes. But not surprised.

“You know you can’t go back to them,” says Glimmer. She doesn’t know that, not really, but she suspects well enough to think their guest has come to the same conclusion. Maybe it was the soldiers seeing her as She Ra that had done it, or perhaps it was just guilt by association or… or who knows how those people justify anything.

“I’ll find a way,” says their guest and it’s obvious to both of them that she doesn’t believe it. Maybe she’s just going through the motions, clinging on to this pretence.

“The Horde is evil,” says Glimmer. “You’re better off without them.”

The guest responds with a snarl. “Don’t pretend to know what’s better for me, princess. You and your precious friends will be overrun soon by the Horde. You’re no match for them.”

Glimmer knows she’s being provoked. Gets provoked anyway. “At least my friends don’t try to kill me!”

“Adora wasn’t there,” says their guest in an entirely different tone, like she’s not really answering Glimmer’s barb but has just remembered something. “Maybe she will…” She trails off and something in the mingled hope and hurt in her voice can’t help but tug at Glimmer’s heart.

What did they do to you? “Who’s Adora?”

No answer.

“Your friend?”

Still nothing.

“Do you think she can save you?” It doesn’t feel great, prodding at the guest like this, but she told her mother she could get through to her and she can’t leave before she does. “Do you think you could go back? With her help?” And, in all honesty, she’s genuinely curious.

There’s a pause, there, but a weighty one that Glimmer thinks might be better not to interrupt. She can’t tell what her guest is thinking, but she thinks that there is some thinking going on, intuits it more than anything else. The stranger will have to come to her own conclusions eventually. All Glimmer can do is show the way.

The figure in the corner turns even further, so that a ray of light from the barred window finally makes it to her face, shimmering where it meets her right eye. She’s considering Glimmer, all suspicion and wariness and with an assessing gaze that makes her think she’s being judged - in what way she does not know. It’s odd, just how closed off this stranger is. Glimmer is used to saying how she feels - not in public, perhaps, but behind closed doors. She’s not used to having to pry quite this far, except perhaps when talking to her mother, when asking about her father.

“What do you want?”

Well, they were always going to come to that eventually. Glimmer hesitates, biting at her lower lip. She’s standing in the centre of the room, the cell, but she takes another step towards their guest. There’s no real reaction, but Glimmer imagines she spots a slight tensing in their visitor. “I want to help you.”

“No you don’t,” immediately comes the sneering response, and Glimmer knows her answer was a mistake.

Still, she protests. “I do! You’ve escaped from the Horde and -”

“I’m your enemy. You were willing to beat me down and interrogate me. You’ve locked me in a cell.”

She clenches her fists even tighter. “We’re only keeping you here until you agree to help us!”

“You said it, princess. You need my help. So don’t pretend to be here for my sake.”

Glimmer’s next words get caught in her throat because the stranger has outmanoeuvred her with embarrassing ease. She clamps her lips together before she can say anything else and silently seethes at the guest. It’s hard to tell from here, but she seems amused.

A surge of hopelessness briefly threatens to overwhelm her and she wants to start screaming at their horribly uncooperative prisoner. She wants to leave. She’s not getting anywhere, is she? It’s sheer stubbornness that is keeping her here now, because she doesn’t want to admit to Bow or her mother or anyone else that she was wrong. And she still doesn’t think she is.

Right then. Change of tactics.

“You’re right,” says Glimmer, firmly enough to get the stranger’s attention, lingering just a moment before continuing. “We do need your help. And the Horde is coming. They’re advancing further and further and one day they’ll attack Bright Moon. I know that, which is why I was in the Whispering Woods in the first place. I know that if we don’t do something, we’ll lose everything.” It’s easy to let passion creep into her voice because it’s entirely honest. She takes a breath. “But I also know that the Horde is evil. I want to protect people from it. And… that includes people who live in their horrible base. People who used to live there.” The stranger is watching her closely now - and she’s sneering and her eyes are narrowed but she is listening. So it’s time to take a gamble. “I think you hate the Horde too. And I think you know you’re not going back. So what I’m offering you is a chance. The chance to defeat them. You can’t do that without us and we can’t do it without you. We need you, yes, but… you need us too.”

She’s taken another half-step forward and she’s tempted to cross the rest of the distance between them, but she pauses there, having said her bit. The silence that follows is tense and it’s hard not to shiver, or fold her arms in an attempt to stay warm. It’s not cold in here but…

Come on, she silently wills her prisoner. You want this too. I can tell.

Who wouldn’t? That’s where she struggles - with the horrific nature of the Horde so abundantly obvious to her, it’s hard to imagine how anyone wouldn’t want to fight it. It’s why she was so angry at her prisoner at first, why her seeming disregard made Glimmer rage at her. But now, with the veneer a little cracked, now that she can sense a little better just what the Horde might be like for its soldiers, she thinks maybe her prisoner isn’t so unaffected as she appears. Selfish, yes. But if that’s what she has to rely on, then so be it.

“Nice speech,” says her prisoner dryly. “You’re smarter than you look, princess.” It’s an obvious provocation and for once, Glimmer doesn’t let herself fall for it. Instead, she waits, and surely enough the prisoner continues. “I don’t care about your rebellion.”

“I know.”

“Then how could you trust me?”

It’s hard not to smirk, because this is the first sign she’s gotten that her appeal may be working. For now, Glimmer controls herself. “I don’t have to. Not yet.”

That gets a laugh. “Not much of a fighting force if there isn’t any trust.”

“Was there a lot of trust in the Horde?”

A pause. The bright eyes twinkle at Glimmer. “Don’t talk of things you don’t know about.”

“I know that they were prepared to shoot at you.”

“Because they think I’m some kind of princess hero. That I’m… She Ra.”

“You are She Ra. And maybe you’ll be a princess hero too.”

“Not gonna happen, glitter.”

“Glimmer.”

“Whatever. If you wanted a hero, you should’ve gotten someone else to be She Ra.”

“Not like I got a choice in the matter,” says Glimmer and it’s way too harsh. Why is this prisoner so good at getting to her?

“Wish you’d been chosen, sparkles?”

“I told you, the name’s -” She bites her tongue and takes a moment to glare at her prisoner. She’s just drawing you out. This is a waste of time. “I don’t want to fight this war without you, but I will if I have to. You can stay here and rot, or you can help us fight and destroy them.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Revenge.”

A moment of silence is followed by a burst of laughter that sounds very nearly genuine. “You’re not what I expected from a princess.”

Well, it’s not like Glimmer feels particularly comfortable with this. But she’s gotten this far and she thinks she may be getting through and she really doesn’t want to admit defeat. “I told you I want to defeat the Horde. If you want to do that too, then I don’t care why.”

“You don’t.”

“Obviously I’d prefer it if you were doing it out of the goodness of your heart,” says Glimmer before she can stop herself. Her temper’s getting the better of her even now.

“You’re right,” says the figure, surprising Glimmer in turn. “I do want revenge on the Horde. I want to destroy them.”

“Great!” The word bursts out of Glimmer too fast and she immediately clamps her lips shut - her prisoner hasn’t agreed to help yet and she doesn’t want to scare her off. She waits.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, princess. You think everyone will be as convinced as you by my motivation?”

“It’ll take time. But we’ll get there. If you help.”

A pause. “I have one condition.”

Glimmer pauses in turn, trepidation rising quickly in her. “What’s that?”

“There’s one person in the Horde I won’t allow you to harm.”

She hesitates. “Your friend? Adora?”

“Adora,” repeats the figure. “None of you touch her. Don’t even go near her.”

“Is she dangerous?”

“She’s the best.”

“Then…”

“She’s mine,” hisses her prisoner. The venom in her voice startles Glimmer. It makes her wonder whether this is really a good idea, but she firmly dismisses the thought, clamps down on the trust. They need this.

“So you’re prepared to help us?”

Her prisoner lets the silence drags and Glimmer wonders whether she can hear her heartbeat. It should be loud enough. Practically booming in her chest.

The cat-like shape unfurls and straightens up and proceeds to approach Glimmer with languid steps. Her eyes don’t leave Glimmer’s all the while, still shining brightly even as they are increasingly lit up by the light from the window.

When her prisoner reaches Glimmer, she still doesn’t stop, instead opting to prowl around her in a circle, examining her closely. It’s hard for Glimmer not to bolt, hard for her to subject herself to this examination while keeping her breathing steady and calm. Is it going to be this difficult all the time?

“I’ll give it a try,” says her prisoner - and she’s right behind Glimmer, whispering into her ear. Even though it’s creepy and she has to shiver, she’s exhaling with relief and excitement at the same time and almost wants to sprint away right then and there to tell her mother.

Glimmer nods, turning so that she can face those bright eyes head-on, watching her ever so keenly. She lets herself smile, trying to be encouraging, hoping this won’t remain an alliance of convenience. “I’m pleased to hear it,” she says, going for a kind of gentle authoritativeness. Her guest snorts. “I’ll go tell the others, then we can discuss our next steps.”

“Right,” drawls her guest, withdrawing smoothly. She’s slinking back off to her corner when Glimmer calls after her.

“Can you tell me your name?” She tries not to let on that she considers this courtesy long overdue.

Her new ally looks back at her, giving her a mischievous half-smile. “Catra. Look forward to working with you, sparkles.”

[hellanoragami-blog]

Chapter 79.2 Thoughts

Heeeey guys. I’m up really early this morning, so I’ve decided to try to dissect the chapter. There is a lot of interesting things to cover, but overall I really liked it. It has a lot of pain and worry tied to it, though. A big thanks to @fast-moon for a speedy translation!

In the continuation of chapter 79, we’ve picked up directly where we left off. Hiyori has begun to read through her journal, only to find that almost all of them relate to Yato in some way or another. (It seamlessly ties into a discussion that Ami and Yama are having behind her, lol.)

But things take a serious turn, because Yama explains that Fujisaki has simply disappeared, and so has his father, apparently. Father is--we know--currently resting and recovering from the toll taken on his body. But what about Fujisaki’s father? Where did he go, and what are his concerns about his son’s injuries? Is that why he’s suddenly disappeared?

I wonder if perhaps we’ll see Father claiming another form, soon. With Bishamon now knowing his face, and the nuisance posed in further involving Fujisaki’s family, I feel as if Father wouldn’t want to gamble the risks of keeping his current body. (It’s confusing, because we’ve never actually seen Fujisaki’s father, nor do we know much about the relationship he has with his son. It makes it hard to pin down what exactly he’d be doing in this situation regarding his child’s injuries.)

Hey, look! Tenjin’s riding an Ox! Oh, wait. It’s just his regalia? Cool! We now know what forms two of his shinki take, as well as their alternate names. I don’t have much to say about that. But his conversation with Hiyori is different. As suspected, literally everyone know about Hiyori’s feelings but her--even Tenjin! She goes on to ask him, the one who would know most out of anyone, whether it’s true or not that Gods can love humans.

I kind of already figured his answer, and I was right in thinking that their way of loving is just different than human love. But it’s not inherently a good thing for a God to love a human. As he said, they get drawn more to the near shore.

The more attached Yato gets to Hiyori, the more he’d be willing to do to ensure her happiness and safety. This includes wreaking havoc upon whatever threat to her that he sees. (Think back to the Bishamon arc, where he was fully prepared to kill a fellow God under the false assumption that she had harmed Hiyori.)

Also- pg. 25, Amaterasu’s watching. ;)

Tenjin does have a valid point, regardless if we agree with it or not. Gods aren’t inherently the same as humans; they simply take the form of man. Just as Amaterasu is the sun, and Tsukuyomi is the moon. “Is pledging (romantic) love to something that isn’t a person a particularly logical act?”

In a non-biased context, the answer is of course, no.

Even with Tenjin urging her to cut ties with Yato, it’s simply out of her hands now. Yato is the only one who could do that, and with their fates tied, they’re stuck together. Maybe it’s inevitable that Hiyori will forget Yato, but it wouldn’t be permanent. That’s hinted in the fact that she’s able to recount this tale to us.

At the end of chapter 1, Hiyori uses the words, “Soon, Yato would meet me.” This implies that everything that is currently being told has already happened. The story already has an ending, and we’re being shown the story through her narrative. Already, this is kind of obvious by the small hints throughout the manga; the most popular one being when she isn’t able to recognize Yukine as a human spirit the way Yato can.

Hiyori’s description:

Yato’s description:

Again, notice Hiyori’s usage of past tense versus Yato’s use of present tense. Although we are also being shown what she’s telling us, we’re also shown things that she personally didn’t see, and this comes from Yato. Could he also be telling the story alongside her? I’m interested to find out. It may mean that they will in fact meet again. It certainly gives me hope!

Now! Onto some (mostly) lighthearted scenes!

We shift attention to Yukine and Nora, who are playing a game of badminton. But things go horribly wrong when Nora runs right into a trash bin, and ends up getting covered in rubbish. Yukine must have had the idea to take her back to Kofuku’s for a bath, conveniently able to do so because the Goddess of poverty is away in takamagahara to strike fear into the heart of Takemikazuchi for repair costs.

Nora is completely in awe of the place, exploring things she’s never seen before. It looks like a child’s wonderland, to her. (Notice she thinks almost everything in Kofuku’s house is a toy. ...To be fair, there are a LOT of toys in Kofuku’s bathroom.)

In fact, most of what we see of her in this chapter reminds me a lot of what we see in Yato: not a lot of experience in the way of doing things age-appropriately, and having a very naive approach to some things. (Seeing her with that shower shield around her face reminded me of a frilled dragon. Cute!) We also see two names on her, one on her hip, and the other on her arm. These were identified by fast-moon to be the names belonging to Ebisu and Take.

Clue One that things are not entirely as they seem. I don’t entirely distrust her just yet, though. She drops her hitaikakushi in the bath, and she gives it a look of what appears to be contempt. Does that mean that she’s growing more and more unhappy with who/what she was before? Or is it regret over her involvement in a possible plan executed by Father? She folds it not-so-neatly in her hands, and the scene changes to show Yukine attempting to cook.

It’s obvious that he’s still struggling with his feelings over the situation. But hopefully, it’s not enough to be hurting Yato. Next, Nora rejoins Yukine for dinner. (In a very cute outfit, nonetheless. Adachitoka, are you trying to kill me with cuteness?? Lol.) Yukine next suggests they study together, and Nora says something that really seems to hit a nerve with Yukine.

“Dead people, studying? It’s pointless.”

Ahh. So it’s hinted that Yukine isn’t entirely accepting of the way things are, after all. Whether he realizes it or not, the fact that those words bothered him to that extent just shows that he knows it’s true, deep down. Trying to emulate a life that a living person would is essentially pointless, and he knows it. But it’s what makes him feel happy and fulfilled with what he has.

That texture, though.

We know by now, that when this texture overlay is used, it either foreshadows a topic resurfacing in a Big, Negative way, or when a character realizes something that could end up leading to a key event of sorts.

In short, this page felt very serious and ominous, and it kind of worries me. The word ‘promise’ is also used quite a bit here, which feels a little suspicious in itself. It’s also kind of scary, because Yukine just unintentionally showed Nora one of his biggest weak points. I hope it’s not going to be used against him later.

Nora, please. I’m beggin u girl. Have a change of heart.

It does look like she’s having a change of heart regarding Yukine learning the God’s Greatest Secret, though. Before, she wanted to destroy him with it. But now she wants to make sure he doesn’t get near it. Which he agrees to... but we know it’s going to happen, eventually. Sad to say, he’s already been inflicted with liberation. So learning about his past is inevitable.

Yukine reveals his worries about stinging Yato, which is important; at least he realizes that it’s bad to be getting his emotions involved like this. But Yato’s not around for him to talk to, and that makes all the difference. And with Yato being hit by both Yukine and Kazuma’s shitty feelings, it’s bringing him great distress and discomfort.

(Also quick note, I’m curious as to why the name plate says Iki. Iki would be Takamasa’s last name, wouldn’t it? Unless he took Sayuri’s name instead. Uncommon, but some people do it here in the US. Do people do that in Japan as well? I’m going to assume it’s the case for now anyway, since it’s Hiyori’s maternal grandmother’s house.)

Alas... Father. What are you doing in front of Hiyori’s grandmother’s house? How did you even find out where it was? (If he followed her home, that’s just creepy.) What I wanna draw attention to, though, are the blank pages of her journal. Blank pages. Blank. I hope it’s just the newest pages that haven’t been written in yet!

But... I feel very certain that Father is influencing something here, just from Hiyori’s mention of her body feeling heavy. (Yes, I think it was Hiyori’s dialogue, despite it showing Yato; particularly with the way it follows up in her POV in the next box.) Part of me is worried that the page is implying that Father is leaving, and he’s already set something into motion. I hope I’m wrong.

Hiyori... please hold on to your memories.

[verona-mira]

Myth angst drabble?

This… became a monster…

And I am not even sure that it counts as Angst. Or is still a drabble. Is something of this size still a drabble?

Despite everyplan made in his mind and prepared in the real world, Myth couldn’t helphimself from searching the princess out after he finally managed to secure aposition inside the palace, barely three months after the rebellion. Even a waybetter position than he had previously hoped to ever achieve, looking at his visiblyyoung age. But then people seemed to have difficulties to really place his ageand he highly doubted that the king would have intentionally put enough trustinto a barely twenty-year-old to name him adviser.

But here hewas, wandering the hallways openly again, the glamour keeping people fromrecognizing him and no (literally) cursed traitor around to educate themotherwise. He would have loved to fell the betrayer, but the onslaught of multipleopponents had been… problematic. Even with the queen being the Bearer, theother side had help by a Bearer as well. At least no one of the opponents hadever learned the value of a good poison or a sneak attack. Well, if they had,he would have more than a few barely healed wounds and still hurting scars.

Well, he wasalive and already working on implementing the return of the queen by being inthe palace and guarding the Crystallum. It wouldn’t do if someone stumbled overit after all. A pity, he couldn’t move it somewhere else.

As it was,gossip around the maids told him quickly where to go. They were pretty keen onavoiding the teen, who was actively sad about the supposed demise of her mother,and exchanged information whenever the princess moved somewhere else.

The gardensweren’t a bad place for introductions. The weather was nice and the royalgardens were beautiful enough that taking a look at them as a newcomer wouldn’tbe too out of place.

She was… surprisinglysmall.

Myth blinkedin surprise at seeing her. Well, she was in her teens and still growing and itwasn’t as if had ever been close to her, so gauging her size had never been onhis mind. But she was looking quite small regarding how scared the servantswere of her, curled up onto herself, looking at a bunch of blooming roses, hiddenby a few hedges.

Knees pulled upto her chin wasn’t quite proper either, especially with her sitting on a bench,but then, who was he to judge? It had taken him a few days to just scratchtogether the will to move through the pain of being wounded and all alone againand he knew the queen was alive, ifnot breathing at the moment.

Maybe he hadmade some kind of noise he wasn’t aware of, but suddenly the girl turned aroundand looked at him, just for a moment a startled expression on her face, beforeit all cut off from her face, promptly jerking into a more proper position.

“Goodafternoon, your Highness. I am Mythros. I just joined your father’s court,” hecalmly introduced himself, bowing and choosing not to comment on what he had justseen.

The princessgave him a cold look. “If father wants something from me, he can tell me sohimself,” she replied coolly.

Well, look atthat. Looked like the king’s ‘disfavour’ for his daughter wasn’t just extravagatedrumours. He kept his smile in place. “Oh, I didn’t speak with him today, yet. Ijust saw you here and thought introductions were in order. I am going to spend most of my time in thepalace after all,” he said, keeping his voice light and body posture untense,to not project any indication of aggression. People could be set off by thestrangest things and there was no reason to agitate her.

There was ashort bout of silence, while she continued to focus him with a cold look fullof scrutiny. Healthy outlook. She didn’t know him after all and he had justintroduced himself as a member of her father’s political court.

“You justintroduced himself. What else do you want?” she finally asked, “No one is stayinglonger than they have to.” Oh really? “Quite rude of them,” he commentedlightly, “Etiquette dedicates to at least bid someone goodbye before leaving.Especially after introductions. Social rules would indicate to wait for beingdischarged, if there is no business to attend to.” And promptly made a point ofnot bidding his goodbyes, still smiling.

The confusionflickering over her face was honest and quickly smothered under self-control. Almostcute how she glared at him. Almost like her mother, but that was like comparinga kitten to a full-grown tiger. And she hadn’t access to her claws yet.

“And you’reoh so nice,” she skewered him with aneven colder look, “Are you really going stand there until I tell you to leave?”Her voice dripped with disbelieve.

Myth decidedon a gamble.

“Your mother wasquite thorough to impress the proper behaviour into me, so I wouldn’t be an embarrassment,if she ever chose to introduce me to court herself.”

The princesshad turned to look at the roses again. At his words, her head whipped aroundback to him.

“You… knewmother?” there was something strange in her voice and it suddenly occurred toMyth that with Waltz gone from the picture, the king distant and the servantsterrified, there would have been no one at all willing to get close to her.

“She was myteacher. When I was a bit younger than you know, she took a look at me anddecided that I was worth some of her time,” he replied, making sure to keep hisvoice calm and even. There was no reason to agitate her. No reason to scare hereither. And if he was the one to tell her, when everyone else was so insistenton keeping her ignorant…

The princessfrowned. “A teacher for what? What was mother teaching you, that she couldn’tjust hand over to others?”

Stepping abit closer, so the hedges would completely hide him from view of servants passingby, Myth laid a hand onto the stone restricting the water of a fountain. Asmall push and glittering ice started to spread in patterns, stretching awayfrom his hand and reaching the water, creating a glittering sheet of ice.

“Your mother,princess, was teaching me magic.”

Oh, how easyit had been in the end, to gain her trust. And he didn’t need to weave lies either!Just wording the information carefully.

“Oh, yes, therehad been another apprentice, but he ran off, no idea, where he is.”

And it wasall the king’s fault! It would have been so much more difficult, if he couldsee past hair colour and talk withhis daughter.

As it was, hedid not, kept his distance, eyes sad, but also fearful and when he finally gotover himself, worry joined the fear, etching itself into his face with frownsand heavy thoughts, because -oh the surprise- his daughter did not miraculouslyforget him ignoring her very existence for months without end.

On anothermatter, Myth had managed to establish himself in court, starting to slip hisown twist of things into decisions made or not made. It was ridiculous how trustingthe king was towards him. Did the man even remember that a year ago some ofthese people had haggled with the queen and he hadn’t even been here for a fullyear?

Or maybe itsimply never occurred to him that people may have taken advantage of the queen’srule to further their own power. If he was informed right, the late king hadn’tallowed the monarch much involvement before his death. The man had waited witharranging a ball for his son until the back then Crown Prince was twenty! Twoyears after reaching majority!

Well, heshould count himself lucky that the man was more inexperienced than incompetent.But some of the noises in court regarding the princess… Some wanted her in somefar away estate and for the king to remarry for a ‘proper’ heir. Just his luckthat the king was still pinning after his ‘true love’. No risk there then fornow.

Something theprincess asked most for when they were alone (mostly hidden by the hedges ofthe gardens) were displays of magic.

Myth obliged,because a familiarity with magic wasn’t a bad thing for the future Bearer. Itwouldn’t do for her to be scared of her own skills.

Small sculpturesof ice, all sharp edges and pointy ends, glittering in the sun light. Thornyvines grabbing a tree trunk as if choking the live out of it and crumbling toashes, leaving deep gorges in the bark. Mist rolling together into forms foolingthe mind, by looking similar to forms that may trick the eyes…

It was precious how fascinated she was byeverything. How she lit up at the spark of magics, eager to see more. And itwas their secret.

Theirs alone.

There wouldbe no problem resurrecting his queen, it seemed.

Hell knew,what Alcaster was trying to pull by assigning a guard do to the princess.Especially his own son. Not that there was any doubt about the young man’sskills, but a father assigning his own son to spend time around the crownprincess?

Please, whydidn’t the man put up placates proclaiming his intentions of playing matchmaker?

Fritzgeraldwas… friendly. Genuinely so. It was baffling.

He was alsodutiful and just as easy to drive off like holding a bone and trying to driveaway a starved dog.

He was alsopolite and almost impossible to ditch, despite the princess being known for notleaving the palace.

The new presencehad the side effect his familiarity with the princess being ‘discovered’.

Not that theyhad tried to hide it. They just…tended to visit the gardens at the same time and weren’t even hiding that. Whenpeople were too blind to pay attention that wasn’t their fault.

But no oneseemed to know what to make from it, especially the king, who suddenly gotsmacked into his face that -yes- his daughter was willing to spend time with atleast one living person. It had also had the consequence that he was promptlydelegated to be the go between to the man and his daughter.

Oh, how blindthe man was… Myth wondered what his face would be like, when he learned of thefull story behind everything.

There was apainting of the queen in the hallway. It was surprising that no one had takenit down, yet, but maybe the king simply didn’t want to explain to his daughter thereasons for that.

As it was,the cold green eyes looked down at him and he found himself wondering. Whatwould be his reward in the end? She had promised to reward him…

He took inthe way he hair fell into her face and framed it and how her eyes werecuttingly cold.

“It’s apretty painting, isn’t it?” the princess asked next to him and he turned tolook at her, watching her hair move in a breeze trailing through the hallway. Goldeneyes turned to him, looking at him -and only him, wasn’t that strange?- and hesmiled. “Yes. It’s really a good sight,” he told the just sixteen-year-old,taking in how her lips twitched for a moment, as if she was fighting back a smile.

How curious…was that really due to him?

Court wasalways moving. Someone gained money, lost it, gained favour, fortune, influenceand wasted it on lies and pretending to be saints.

Always movingit was not always clear, who was sending which messenger, but the messengers alwaysknew who they needed to talk to and how. And in this case beyond closed doors.

A quite luckycase for him, he noted, taking in the mangled body and how the blood had splattered.His self-control seemed to have loosened. He hadn’t even taken the time for properinterrogations. Myth pondered how to best dispose of the remains, beforedeciding to move the parts closer together and keep the door looked via magicuntil dusk. Some empty bottles of fine a bit too close to the fireplace, justnext to the body and there shouldn’t be too many questions.

And while thecould go and run around trying to identify the man, he would have the time tolook into who may be stupid enough to think he could be pressured or bribed intoharming his precious princess. That wouldn’t do at all.

The palacewas still reeling from the fire and the dead body weeks later, when the kingannounced the newest hair-raising decision.

Myth ponderedwhat to do for a few days. The king knewhe had found the right woman, a widow now herself, with children of her own.

Arranging anaccident now would be… high profile, even with magic.

The girl hadno place in court, open and cheery and way too easily manipulated. The nobleswouldn’t like her, but love her easy to control mindset. Show her one personhurt by a law and she would forget how the laws befitted the wider population.But the peasants would love her…

The boy was almostlaughable easy to deal with. Myth wouldn’t even need to lift a finger. Huntingthe witch down that cursed him gave him somany juicy details he promptly proceeded to share with his princess. Encroachingonto her space permanently, just toimpress one little peasant girl? They would never be friends…

Well, he couldstill arrange for something, if it proved necessary. Too many deaths closetogether would be suspicious…

The weddingwas a grand thing, like any official royal event.

The bride waseven pretty nice to look at.

The CrownPrincess was sixteen, growing into her body and looking just as breath taking,dress carefully tailored to not outshine the bride.

Emelaigne wasnot even looking half as regal, no matter how pretty her dress was. But then,her tutor for etiquette had met a very… unfortunate end by falling down astaircase (not that anyone had told the girl that) and as such there had beenno one to instruct her on proper behaviour. As such, she chattered away with noblegirls her age, not even noticing or knowing how much of an embarrassment shewas.

She didn’t evenhave the self-control to at least pretend to not be trying to look atFritzgerald whenever possible.

Well, it wasn’tas if he had much room to talk there, he could admit that much to himself. Hestill made sure to get a good look at the king’s face when the man saw himdancing with his daughter, twirling her around skilfully to the music among theother couples, revelling in the way how he got to hold her close.

It was a deliciouslook. The man almost stumbled over his own feet. Pity, that the other nobleshad been too dumbfounded by the sight of the ice princess dancing, to catch sightof the scene.

And the kingdidn’t want to make a scene at his own wedding and let it be.

A few moremonths passed and a new routine slowly settled in with the new addition to thepalace life. Myth wasn’t that enthusiastic about it. The new princess was stubbornlytrying to befriend her stepsister and seemed to have decided that he was theperfect person to get information about what she liked.

How to tell achatterbox that a person liked quiet company…

Pity that shewasn’t the mute one. Her brother knew at least some manners.

But then shewas so dense and naive, that the nobles weren’t really keen on her becoming crownprincess at all anymore, no matter how easily influenced she was. Just as well.Kept him from needing to get rid of more people, to keep the coast clear for hisprincess. No need to let rivalries fester after all.

As it was,they would need to live with their meetings getting interrupted by Fritz, whowas still set on the fact that she needed protection inside the palace, Emelaigne,who tried to befriend them and Fritz at the same time, and Rod, who wastrailing after his sister.

Myth reallydidn’t like how they intruded onto his time with his princess. She was his. Even if the queen would never allowit…

Strange, howhe hadn’t thought about her in some time…

His princess becameseventeen and the king, encouraged by his daughter suffering through thecompany of the new family members, tried to involve himself again by throwingher a party.

Myth took noteof the different young male nobles attending, strutting around like peacock,decked out in fancy clothing and made their introductions.

Mentally hestarted making a list, adding a name whenever eyes trailed lower than hisprincess face.

Death… wouldbe too attention grabbing. The list was getting too long for that. But a brush with death? Just a scare and a fewscars? No one died, no attention…

And maybe afew rumours about whores, illegal doings and a few other things… there wasalways some dirt to dig up.

Well, outsideof the guy daring to push himself into her personal space like that, afterhaving the gall to get drunk halfway through.

He rescuedhis princess from the trash and made sure that he was looked up in a room faraway from the festivities.

The kiss shestole from him just before retiring for the night was… surprising. Elating.

…Addicting.

She was his. And his alone!

The screamswhen the maids found a mangled body in the kennels of the hunting dogs was musicto his ears.

The king wasat least not completely blind, going from the looks the man threw him when hethought Myth wasn’t noticing it.

Thoughtfuland worried at the same time the man seemed to weight something.

Weeks passedwith the man not doing anything at all and truthfully, Myth was not sure, whatto do, if the man proved problematic. It was difficult to dispose of a king,especially of one well liked. Startling his horse during his parades would beeasy enough, but that wouldn’t ensure that he fell and broke his neck.

And the mankept doing nothing! Not even talking to anyone!

The eighteenthbirthday slowly crawled closer and Myth was… not sure what to feel.

The princesshad learned about what her mother been years ago -also about the possibility offreeing her- but they had never really talked about her role in the war. AndMyth really liked the kisses andhaving attention all to himself…

And then onemorning he woke up and his precious princess was gone!

Gone from him,from the palace and no one was remembering her!

He didn’tcount the worried looks he got thrown, tearing through the hallway without talkingto anyone before settling in the garden where they normally met.

Only Fritzand Emelaigne were there.

That wouldn’tdo.

Someone was going to suffer.

Days passed. Weeks passed and he couldn’t find her!

It wasdifficult enough to control himself, when people called Emelaigne crownprincess. The ball was an insult in itself and he made sure, to dispose of thenew tutor as well, just like the second one got caught up in an unfortunateaccident. The third one was left alone, but it had been calming to let some ofthe pressure bleed of.

And thenthere was suddenly a red headed maid with Emelaigne at the garden space and Mythhad been so surprised by it andEmelaigne -sweet, obvious, naive Emelaigne- had been surprised and ecstaticthat the two knew each other.

Myth took inthe wide-eyed look of the prince and knew he couldn’t allow the boy to leavethe palace with this information. Tragic, but accidents happen.

Well… hesurvived the fall from the staircase. Keeping him from waking up then.Everything else would be too obvious.

The drama ofthe accident was -ironically- enough to push the ball closer, people pushing tofurther the line of succession with only Emelaigne left and no other alternatives.

The girl was slowlybreaking under the pressure, but that wasn’t his problem. Emelaigne occupied bythe preparations allowed him more time with his princess, who told him allabout what happened.

The LucisBearer, Delora and the traitor thought, they could lay hand on his princess?

Time to… dealwith them.

With care.

The ballhappened a week before Lucette’s eighteenth birthday and Alcaster proved to bethe person trying to wrench the throne from the rightful bloodline.

Myth slippedaway with Lucette, her father stubbornly trying to do the ‘right thing’ and ‘honour’.

A week of hiding,of being alone with her and all the sinful pleasures he got her to give in to…

He wouldn’tgive that up. Not even for his queen.

And, oh, hissweet princess agreed… and she would be queen one day as well. He should startcalling her by the title.

Time to adjustplans even further.

Mind runninghigh, Myth started ‘leaking’ information.

On the dawningof her eighteenth birthday they sneaked into the secret passage to where theCrystallum was hiding.

Oh, if his princessknew of all the things he had arranged.

He madehimself scarce during the freeing and made sure that every other pawn wouldmeet their timely end.

Hildyr dealt withAlcaster quickly enough, three hours into her resurrection, not even sparing aglance at her late husband beheaded in front of the throne, whose blood wasfresh enough that the beheading was quite recent.

Alcaster musthave thought that would endear him to his queen.

The queenstruck Alcaster down, just in time for Delora, the other Bearer and the traitorto turn up -the later still cursed to his delight- and he made a show ofstepping out of the shadows and taking the glamour of, letting them shout andflail and magic clash- and fail.

He wanted tolaugh at the sight of their faces crumble when they noticed.

The witchdown and fading, the fairy dying as well and the traitor staring at him, redeyes wide and terrified and trying to scramble away from him in fear, when hestepped closer.

When he wasthe only one alive, Myth made his next move.

Hildyr neversaw the icicle killing her.

And Waltzdidn’t get to ask questions about anything either.

Looking atthe mess the throne room was, Myth let out a sight. There was a clean-upnecessary.

But first hewould need to look for his princess.

The coronationto place three weeks after her birthday, her face impassive and stoic.

Myth smiled,standing right next to her, not having bothered to reapply the glamour, throwingpeople in for a loop.

Emelaigne wasclinging to Fritz and her mother, the woman looking pale, eyes empty. No dangerfrom there.

Rod had fadedaway just before the birthday; his curse having caught up with him.

There were afew people coming out of the woodwork already, trying to gain favours. Well, atleast the prince of Brugundia was easy to deal with. One broken curse for animproved political connection was good enough, especially with the recenttumult in the politics.

Well, at leastthe nobles couldn’t haunt his queen about the line of succession.

Not thatanyone had dared to comment, when the first orders for the preparations of a weddinghad gone out.