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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

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Chrysalis

Yandere!Albedo x gn!reader

Wordcount:2115

CW:Yandere themes

Working for Albedo isn’t that bad - the payment is good, the knowledge he provides is even better - a chance to delve into exclusive alchemical research with a widely acknowledged genius is a far more valuable award than any amount of mora or jewels could ever be. Said prodigy isn’t an awful person to work with either - he’s polite and well mannered, careful not to offend anyone even if his words can be cold and cutting sometimes. Most of the time Albedo is a pleasant company to be around, if one would turn a blind eye to his quirks.

For instance, he has a weird and frankly unnerving habit of staring at you - his teal eyes track your littlest movements as you set up an alchemical apparatus and prepare needed solutions. At first you thought he was overseeing you, checking if you had made any mistake as a fledgling alchemist, yet this hypothesis was quickly disproved when you caught him gazing off working hours. You never voiced your complaints - you wanted to keep your job and study, and maybe he is too socially blind to see how his behavior could be received by others.

Today would also be a great example of an alchemist's lack of tact - he requested you accompany him everywhere for the last few weeks, taking you from the cold heights of Dragonspine to sunny and bustling streets of Mondstadt. You two are sitting in the corner of his laboratory designed for rest and food and share a meal: two portions of his favorite fish, despite being nothing more than the employer and employee or teacher and student.

Albedo doesn’t seem to get or mind what kind of rumours he causes with this seemingly blatant favouritism before you, no he looks as calm as usual as he plunges into the dish with fork and knife.

“[First]”, he says, after the first bite: “Have the aches stopped bothering you?”, a hint of concern and something else. Two or three weeks ago you developed a strange soreness in the different parts of your body - wrists, neck, heart, legs - it would appear suddenly, burning and throbbing and making you gasp, leaving you tired and nauseous afterwards. No one could find the source of the problem, not even Albedo, yet after some time these far from pleasant sensations got subdued, easier to bear and endure.

His hand reaches for your left wrist, thumb caressing the skin, and he pulls it closer to his face, eyes examining the sore spot. You don’t protest, stunned by his sudden action.

“Hm, that’s”, he mumbles, more to himself than you: “that’s good”, he concludes, letting go of your limb.

“What’s good? Did something change?” you inquire, instantly forgetting to take offense at his grabbing.

“You could say that”, Albedo ambiguously says and returns to his fish. You ask the alchemist what he meant, but all you get are even vaguer answers and long silence in the end, as he finishes his meal and nudges you to start your own sunshine sprat.

In the end your questions remain unacknowledged, as Albedo leaves displaying you to accompany him. Surprisingly he heads for the gardens instead of the library, his step light and fast. “Master Albedo” you start, seeing that alchemist is in his creative mood again: “shouldn’t you bring an easel or sketchbook with you?”

“No, [First], I don’t intend to draw, not now. This walk is for me to get some inspiration”, Albedo quickly replies, still walking ahead: “In this time of year the environment changes so rapidly, it provides a mind with a lot of good ideas. You should come with me too, alchemy is a science of change, creation and destruction and nature is better at these three aspects than any of us”. He adds, seemingly sensing the next question you would ask.

He walks near the bushes, teal eyes focused on the blooming fragrant flowers, before he squats, pushing some of the wigs back.

“[First]”, he turns his head in your direction: “you should come and see”. You comply, curious what has caught Albedo’s attention, squatting near him and looking at one of the inner branches usually hidden by others.

It’s an ordinary dark cocoon. You almost turn your head again, before the slightest of movements catches your attention - it’s an insect trying to break out. Chrysalis cracks and deforms as a fledgling butterfly makes way past it’s confines. One second and it stretches its wings, revealing a vibrant blue coloration, the next it leaves it’s former cell entirely, elegantly soaring into the air, it’s azure wings lazily flapping, as it makes its way to the other bush.

“Fascinating”, Albedo breathes out, eyes still on the disappearing figure of the insect: “It transformed to such a great extent”.

You hear a hint of excitement in his voice - he wants to share his thoughts or knowledge then - and nod, prompting him to continue.

“Did you know that a larva needs to literally dissolve itself to reach the next stage of its life? After caterpillar finishes its cocoon, it produces enzymes that turn most of its tissue into a liquid matter and only after that does it rebuilds into an entirely new form”, he turns his gaze back to you, usually cold and thoughtful eyes now warm and dreamy: “Sometimes, I think humans are meant to metamorphose too”.

“How so?” you ask, tilting the head.

“Humans, despite all complexity and intelligence, are still fragile creatures. They’re prone to sickness and ailments and in the end old age ends those who managed to evade death before. Wouldn't it be better if one could go through metamorphosis, be reborn free from pain and hunger and constant threat of passing away? Those humans could live on forever and dedicate themselves to the higher cause without having to worry about dying and suffering".

You raise eyebrows, surprised by the sudden “outburst” - Albedo, despite his partially philosophical nature, has never shared his inner thoughts so freely, not to you at least. He, either out of embarrassment or deep contemplation, shifts his eyes somewhere behind you, and you turn back, following his eyes. He looks at the statue of Barbatos.

Tall and proud, it looks magnificent in the day’s sunlight, golden rays making it glow and shine with the fairness of the marble. Looking at this epitome of unchanging vision, you suddenly get an answer to Albedo’s thoughts and you voice it out the same second:

“Wouldn’t it negate the meaning of life then? Nature breeds diversity - the reason why we have so many flowers is because some kinds aren't adapted to particular conditions and so they change, producing entirely new types of plants. Eternal and undying beings, unconcerned with the earthly matters would have no need to reproduce and pass on its features to the next generation, depriving the world of thousand possible combinations. No new life would be created if the old one could be perfectly sustained".

"That's how you see it", Albedo replies, placing a now empty husk of the cocoon inside your palm - the testament of the nature’s miracle, the testament of one's ability to change: “I’ve witnessed many wonderful sights for today”, he adds, still looking at you, surrounded by flowers and flying butterflies, light breeze playing with your hair and sun illuminating your whole figure with a gentle golden glow.

You part with Albedo shortly after - he closes himself in the lab, before checking up on your sore spots again, quietly mumbling something to himself the whole time. You head for your house and open the alchemical textbook, studying it until late night. That place on the wrist slightly throbs at every movement.

Only when your eyelids fill up with lead and thoughts slow down from the general fatigue you allow yourself to head for the bed, falling asleep the second your head touches the pillow. You see phantasmagorical dreams - of you being a bulging and large larva, spending days simply eating green leaves, until a strange urge overcomes your entire being and you start to build something - a cocoon. Now, surrounded by pitch black darkness you feel a burning sensation - enzymes, enzymes that will dissolve your tissue. Pain quickly escalates and you want to scream and cry, but you can’t - you’re an insect you don’t have vocal glands or tear ducts to do so. Who could have known that butterflies suffer so much?

You writhe and squirm, caged by your liquifying body and hard chrysalis around you and you are in so much agony you want to die.

And then you wake up. All sweaty and distressed you grab at your wrist - it hurts so much, your entire body is on fire, it seems that you have another episode of that strange soreness. You quickly rise to your feet, snatching the painkillers from the nightstand and downing them with a gulp of water. As medicine begins it’s work you lay in the bed again, ready to fall asleep and forget the midnight pains, as you see something that makes your breath hitch and heartbeat fasten from fear.

A strange greyish white discoloration on your wrist in the same place that used to throb this evening. You touch it and it leaves a dry white imprint on your fingers, it also doesn’t have any strange smell.

You rise and quickly dress up, barely suppressed panic and anxiety dispelling the last remains of sleep. The walk towards the Favonius HQ’s is short, especially when you break into a sprint on the way. He is here, he is working into the night today. Quickly passing sleepy knights you climb on the second floor and almost run to one particular door, loudly knocking at it.

Just as you expected, there’s a sound of footsteps and soon a familiar voice asks: “Who is here?”.

“It’s me, master Albedo”, you say, feeling how the pain returns despite the painkillers taken: “you said to report if something changes, with my aches. It changed”.

The words you say and desperation accompanying them prompts alchemist to open the door, as he gestures you to come in, and shut the door as you do so:

“Strip”, he says, mind back to the analytical mode, you comply, feeling ashamed with every second Albedo continues to observe you: “Wait, there’s something on your neck”.

A cool touch to your skin, a short yelp, another burst of pain. You fall on your knees, blinded and deafened by sheer agony. Alchemist produces a distressed noise, walking up to your collapsed figure and carrying you to the nearby table.

He pushes alchemical apparatus away, turning the table into a makeshift bed, and gently lowers you down. “[First]”, his hand card through your hair, while the other nudges a mug with some brew to your lips: “There’s nothing to worry about, your metamorphosis progresses as it should be”.

“Metamorphosis.. What are you talking about?”, you ask, panic creeping into the question. Alchemist looks you straight into the eyes, an eerie smile blooming on his face as he hears it: "Isn’t it obvious? You're going to change and I will help you with that".

“Change?! Change into what?”

“Into a better version of human of course. Do you think I would let you get old or sick and die? You’re too dear to me to do that, you should live and experience a life free from human limitations”, for the first time in your life you’re terrified of him. Albedo always seemed so knowledgeable and calm to you, like a wise wizard from the childhood fairytales, yet now he looks mad and devoid of any humanity:“You shouldn’t worry about these stains, they will disappear once your transformation is complete. Those are just chalk you see, a side effect of your tissues changing over the weeks”.

“When did.. When did you start it?”, you croak out, sensing the agony returning and growing again. It hurts so much I can barely think.

“Dragonspine. You were eating with me”.

You want to insult and accuse him, yet another wave of pain renders you speechless, short huffs and whimpers escaping you as tears start to stream down your face.

“I understand it can be very stressful to you, given how change of this scale is always carrying a great risk”, his voice adopts the same philosophical tone: “The purpose of cocoon is protection of the soon-to-be butterfly from the external harm and influence that could lead to other complications and we don’t want any of that”.

He cards his hand through your hair again, a mockery of a concern dyeing his next words: “You shouldn’t worry, I will be a good chrysalis to your metamorphosis”.

You black out from pain.

#yandere albedo x reader #Yandere Albedo #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #Yandere genshin #Yandere genshin impact x reader #Male yandere #Yandere x reader #Yandere #male yandere #my writing

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

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hold up - andy barber fluff

The one where Andy gets you pregnant but you’re young and haven’t been dating for long.

Warnings: Age gap (Divorced!Andy w/ College!Reader, so she’s legal), pregnancy, light angst, supportive!Andy, mentions of abortion, fluff, mentions of smutty thoughts so I don’t think I advise minors to read this, AU! where Jacob is alive and in college and Laurie and Andy are divorced, minor medical scare from Andy’s confusion, miscommunication that leads to slightly asshole!Andy but it’s quick A/N: Special thanks to @navybrat817 and @angrythingstarlight for helping me choose this collage. This fic was requested a while back. I ended up focusing more on the fact that the reader was younger than Andy (which wasn’t even part of the request) than on the fact that they hadn’t been dating for long, mostly because in my mind, this was happening in the same universe as this fic. Hope you guys like it and respect the reader’s decision to keep the baby the same way you should respect it if she decided to abort it or give it up for adoption.

Andy’s P.O.V.

Another day, another case, another headache. Working in law gets more tiring every day, and yet I persisted. Even through a divorce and its subsequent complications, I persisted. Sometimes, I forgot why.

I missed the days I remembered why I got into law in the first place. Those idyllic mornings, when I still thought I could change the world. Now all I wanted to do was to get home and eat my girlfriend’s pussy until she passed out from pleasure.

Just the thought of her sweet cunt had me licking my lips as I drove back to my place, wishing I could stop by hers instead. It still weirded me out that I was now in a relationship with someone that was my son’s age, someone who was still in college, but then I remembered all the moments we shared and was overcome with the realization that I simply didn’t want to let her go.

I knew it was selfish of me, but I believed I deserved at least this good thing in my life after my separation. As long as she wanted me, I wouldn’t let her go. And I was pretty sure that if she decided to leave me, I’d still fight for her to stay.

I loved her. I loved her enough to get through the hazard that was coming clean about our relationship to Jacob. I loved her enough to dream about a future together, even if it looked too far away for now.

Still, I’d caught myself daydreaming about coming home to her more and more these days. It seemed that the more exhausted I was, the more I wanted her to be waiting for me when I crossed the apartment’s door, and I found myself thinking about buying a ring too many times for someone who had gone through such a lousy divorce and was dating a girl who still had college exams to worry about.

I knew our future together - if there even was one - was still too far, but I couldn’t help but want it now. Like, right now. So the fact that I wouldn’t be able to see her for another week or so while she prepared for finals was the closest thing to hell I could go through right now.

Which only made the sight of her by my apartment’s door that much sweeter. “Baby girl, what are you doing here?” Not even giving her the chance to explain, I pulled her into a needy kiss, desperate to taste her again.

I didn’t even notice that, in my eagerness to have her in my arms once more, I had dropped my briefcase and coat on the floor, opting to pay attention to the girl I held in the middle of the hallway.

I only saw the tracks of tears in her beautiful face when I released her, too. Immediately, my heart started to pound against my chest. Could something bad have happened to her? Was she hurt?

Cradling her face in my hands, I automatically started to wipe away her tears. “What’s going on, sweetheart? Why are you crying?” For whatever reason, my words only served to cause her crying to become more frantic, her sobs breaking out of her chest freely now.

My heart felt heavy at the sight of her that desperate. The urgent need to do something, to help her, but not knowing what could be done made my throat feel like it was closing. So I did the first thing I could come up with - I picked her up, not caring about my personal belongings at all as I managed to open the door and take her to the couch with me.

“Shh… It’s alright, baby girl. I’m right here with you. Just tell me what happened, I’m sure I can help you somehow.” Again, it seemed like it was the wrong thing to say. My words took her to the verge of a panic attack if her breathing pattern was anything to go by, so I bit my tongue and focused on what I knew I could do at that very moment to help her, even if it was very little. I pulled her even closer to me, so her head was resting on my chest, and softly cradled her while rubbing her arm with one hand, while the other played with her hair. “I love you,” I repeated, over and over again. “You’re okay.”

It took some time, much longer than I hoped for, but at last her sobs started to come in bigger intervals, her breathing becoming deeper again. Slowly, she started to calm down and focus on me, and I waited until she was ready to speak, terrified of making her start crying again by pushing her to share what had caused such a terror.

“I went to the doctor today,” she started, and if at first my mind drew a blank because I had in no way anticipated this to be the start of her explanation, my heart quickly started to pound against my chest when I managed to process what she had said.

Was she sick? I knew she had been feeling a bit under the weather recently, even throwing up some mornings, but I thought it was a bug that had been going around. She was in college, after all, and those environments were filled with bacteria, just waiting to spread any sort of illness they could provoke.

Was it something serious? For her to be that way, it had to have been. My hands started to sweat at the prospect of losing her. Automatically, I held her tighter, in desperate need to hear more but terrified of what was coming our way.

But she didn’t seem able to say it, whatever it was. Her eyes that had finally connected to mine since she started crying, suddenly fell down to her own hands, and her sniffles warned me that she had started to cry again.

“Y/N…” I begged, covering her hands with mine. “Princess, please, please talk to me. I’m going crazy here, sweetheart. I feel like I might pass out any second now.” Surprisingly, that granted me a giggle, and then, through sniffles and tears, she finally looked up at me again.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I didn’t know how to drop this bomb on Andy. How do you tell your much older boyfriend, who already has a child who’s your exact age, that you’re pregnant with his kid? I was terrified. Terrified that he wouldn’t want anything to do with me anymore, that he would try to force me to get an abortion.

Terrified that I would have to do this alone.

But I had to tell him. Of course, I had. So taking one last deep breath, I squeezed the hand that was holding mine before confessing, in the bluntest possible way, since it was the only one I could come up with right now, “I’m pregnant.”

I don’t know what I was expecting. I hadn’t actually had the time to figure out how to tell him the news - hence my blurting in the simplest possible way - but that also meant I hadn’t really imagined any outcome for this. I had a lot of fears, of course, but no actual expectation. Still, Andy’s reaction managed to catch me by surprise.

At first, there was nothing at all. He just sat there, his huge hands still covering mine as he stared at me with a blank expression in his face. My heart pounded in my chest, and I could even hear it, amidst the silence in the room. Then, out of nowhere, he pounced on me, effectively knocking me back on the couch when he captured my lips with his.

I couldn’t catch my breath as he enthusiastically devoured me, his hands cradling my face and caging me in as he forced me to make out with him on his sofa, like two teenagers after school. Andy was such a great kisser that it was hard for me not to melt against the soft cushions, instinctively opening my legs further so he could fit perfectly between them.

The way his strong body made me feel when it was covering mine was precisely what had got us in this mess, in the first place.

“Andy…” I tried to speak and push him away, but he was still kissing me desperately, opting for quick pecks around my face since I didn’t let him deepen his kiss again. “Andy!” I admonished when he continued to ignore me, choosing to suck tiny little bruises from my jaw down to my neck, instead.

“Baby, I’m terrified over here. Can you please stop trying to distract me and tell me what you’re thinking?” That caught his attention. He finally reduced his kisses, slowly going back to his seating position on the couch and bringing me with him, laying me over his lap again.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s just… I’m so fucking relieved. First, I thought you’d break up with me. Then, since you talked about going to the doctor’s, I thought something was wrong with you. I was desperate, baby girl. Desperate. I figured, one way or another, I was going to lose you. And I don’t want to lose you.”

Hearing what was going on through his mind while I struggled to figure out how to explain what was happening made my heart feel heavy with guilt. I guess that, in the state I was in I kind of thought he would have realized what I was going to say, or simply not anticipate any sort of information whatsoever, so to hear that his mind jumped to these worst-case scenarios was heartbreaking to me.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” I assured him, reaching out for his hand and squeezing it in a small show of support. “I’m right here. But we need to figure out how we’re going to do this.” Andy blinked a few times before managing to voice his confusion.

“Do this what?” And then it was my turn to be confused.

“This… kid. What are we gonna do about this?” I watched as his nostrils flared, his grip on me momentaneously hardening, before he managed to get his emotions in check through a long exhale.

“You’re not seriously considering aborting my child, right?” The question - the tone - was like a slap to the face. In all honesty, that option had never even crossed my mind, but the way he was saying it, like I had no say in the matter, killed me inside.

“I’m gonna give you the time to figure out what the hell is wrong with you. I know that this is a pretty overwhelming situation and I just sprung this on you, but that is no excuse to address me in such a manner. Especially if you consider just how much I’m the one who’s really going to have my entire life turned upside down because of this.”

Andy’s P.O.V.

I groaned as I watched her leave the room in the direction of the bathroom, knowing this was her way of letting me know I shouldn’t look for her until I was prepared to apologize. But I was already ready. I knew how terrible my words had sounded, but it came from a place of love and happiness with the situation other than possessiveness.

So, with that in mind, I rubbed my face before getting up and following her, just in time to find her reentering my bedroom. “I’m sorry, princess. I-I just didn’t know how to react when the thought of you getting an abortion popped into my mind. It’s not like you’re a fucking one night stand or a fling to me, but you’re absolutely right. It’s your body and you should do what makes you comfortable. I just ask you to keep in mind that I would love to have this child with you. I’d support you - I’d support the both of you unconditionally. I know we’ve only been dating for a few months, but I’m serious about you. I’m serious about us. I’d marry you tomorrow if it’s what you need to know how serious I really am about this. And yeah, it’s gonna be hard, but I’m here for you. I’m always gonna be here for you, every step of the way.”

By the time I was done with my speech, she had tears in her eyes again, only this time, I knew what it was about, so I only chuckled. “Come here, sweetheart.” I pulled her to me, hugging her close to my body as I caressed the back of her head. “We’re gonna be okay, one way or another.”

“You sure you’re not just gonna abandon me with a small child?” I knew that her question came from a place of insecurity, but I still couldn’t control myself as a growl escaped my chest, my hands tightening around her, as I reminded her, “You’re mine, baby girl. I’m never gonna leave you. Don’t even think that.”

Slowly, she stopped crying, until only a few sniffles were heard every once in a while. “Okay,” she mumbled in a small voice, clearing the bedroom from what was once a silent atmosphere.

“Okay?”

“Okay, let’s do this. Let’s… Let’s have a baby together.”

A huge smile slowly took over my face as I cradled hers in mine to make sure there was no trace of hesitation in her eyes. “We’re gonna be parents?”

“We’re gonna be parents,” she confirmed, accepting my hug again. “Well, you’re already a parent.” The reminder had me chuckling to myself.

“I can’t wait to tell Jacob about this. He’s going to flip.” The mischievous tone in my voice earned me a playful slap on the shoulder.

“No teasing him more than necessary, Andrew. He’s already going to be pretty affected by this.”

“Can’t make any promises.”

#my fics #andy barber fluff #andy barber angst #angst #fluff #andy barber #andy barber fiction #andy barber writing #andy barber writings #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber ff #andy barber reader #andy barber oneshot

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dracosaurusrex · 3 years

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Kintsugi: Imperfectly Perfect (Draco x Reader)

“Kintsugi is the Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold — built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art.”

- Tiffany Ayuda

Summary:In which Y/N teaches a broken Draco Malfoy how to mend himself and embrace the scars that haunt him.

Wordcount: 10.3k

Genre: Angst/Fluff; Postwar AU

Warnings: Descriptions of depression; self-degredation; sexual themes but no smut

A/N: Hi! This is my first time writing a postwar AU. I was always afraid of doing so out of fear that I would mistakenly portray Draco, but I guess this can be a rite of passage in a way aha. With that being said, here’s my attempt! I hope you like it :D Feedback is very much appreciated!!

The sound of an alarm clock breaks the peace that had manifested within the darkness of the room. One eye creaks open, followed by the other, and a body raises itself to greet the day.

The boy lifts his sheets gently, allowing the cold air to engulf his skin, to wake him, to pull him into the reality of yet another morning.

The pads of his feet are the next to awaken as he hoists himself out of bed, meeting the frigid floor beneath him. He plods across the expanse of space, only to take notice of his reflection in the mirror.

Draco Malfoy, once boisterous, prideful, loud, and arrogant, had been reduced to a shell. One that lived by drifting through the motions of each passing day. It showed through the dark circles apparent under his eyes, the frown that resided on his lips, and his overall gaunt appearance. The thrill that was once characteristic of his youth had spilled through his cracks, leaving him empty and seemingly unrepairable; and no other perspective of his experience could convince him otherwise.

The second wizarding war took too much from him so early on. It started with his father, the man he had ardently looked up to, who he desired so much to please. Lucius’s arrest put the young boy on the forefront of the Death Eaters’ activities, placing an unbearable weight on his shoulders. From that point on, it wasn’t long until the mischievous smile left him, only to be replaced with panicked eyes, increased stress levels, and absolutely no peace of mind. The boy had his entire life on a tightrope, constantly pulling strings to survive.

The result of such was the immense realization of guilt pooling from the sights of Hogwarts in shambles, the lifeless bodies of those he was once acquainted with, and the shame of literally walking away from it all.

Nightmares were also frequent visitors. Besides those that embodied remnants of the war, Draco was almost always confronted by the tauntings of his wrongs: the way he poorly treated others, his stuck-up sense of superiority, the foul slur that he once used so freely--they all haunted him with no end, and all he wanted to do was take everything back. The boy has so often degraded his character since then, describing himself with words such as ‘worthless’, ‘loathsome’, ‘putrid’--the list goes on. He carried his beating heart as though it was dead weight, wanting so desperately to discard the regret that compounded on itself through the years. He was broken, and had no hope of being fixed.

It was also needless to say that the family dynamic had changed for the Malfoy’s; especially since they often stayed within the confines of the property. Narcissa had been diligent in eradicating the place of all things that harbored any signs of Voldemort’s occupation--opening curtains, tending to her garden, changing up the plans for the interior design. Lucius, on the other hand, often occupied himself in his study, simply abiding by the plans for change that his wife had made. He still invested in his social connections, actively making donations to charities and hospitals that had been established as a result of the war. The act helped shed some light on their image, however any interaction that was to be made with the world outside was done through Draco as representative of the family name.

Fortunately, he managed to keep his mind silent in the mornings. As he walked through the vast hallways he would take note of the way light had poured into the manor, admiring the charm that it brought to its nooks and crannies. The quaint atmosphere that was characteristic of these corridors were peaceful, and managed to calm his thoughts albeit temporarily.

As soon as he entered the dining room, Narcissa beckoned him to sit with her and his father.

“Draco, darling, come have some breakfast.” Without much response, he obeys, taking the spot across from her. She placed his favorites on a platter, and observed him as he nibbled on the food in front of him. After several minutes of silence, she pulled an ivory-colored envelope from the pocket of her robe and slid it to him. With food still mounted on his utensils, the boy glanced at the gold details that embellished its corners.

“We’ve been invited to an art gala hosted by the Ministry. The details are inside.” She said.

“I’ll be sure to be in attendance, mother.” He confirmed before resuming his breakfast. The woman casted a worried look at him before turning to Lucius. Things could never go back to the way they once were.

The art gala was held on a Saturday evening, and Draco found himself standing in front of a finely decorated building. An air of aristocracy and luxury loomed within the environment--it was an energy that he had been surrounded by all his life. Large columns aligned its front. A red carpet stemming from the entrance had been rolled out, sweeping along a flight of stairs. Familiar faces of esteemed socialites were seen making their way up the steps. Banners had been hung, indicating the gala and a live auction as highlights of the day’s events.

His only job was to engage in civilized conversation, connect with other high-standing figures, and expand the family network. Simply put, he was there to look pretty.

The feeling of dread overcame him at the thought of immersing himself in socialization. With a begrudging sigh, he straightened his back, briefly smoothened out his suit, and adjusted his cufflinks before trudging up the stairs. Eyes tracked his every step. Despite his emotional wellbeing, the boy still managed to clean up well, creating a facade to those around him. He didn’t bask in the glory, though. He knew he was handsome, he knew he was wealthy, but looks and money were no longer sufficient enough to help him tend to the emptiness he felt on the inside.

The gala itself didn’t begin until 6:00 PM, which was in an hour. Therefore, in hopes to kill time, Draco aimlessly walked through the art displayed for the auction to be held later that night. He carefully observed the numerous crafts with great scrutiny. Paintings were created with much detail--many of them embodying styles from the varying art periods. Sculptures paying great detail to the human body littered the main floor. Hand-crafted furniture were set on display as well, showcasing elaborate ornaments and designs. Mother would like these. He thought. He continued plodding across the exhibit, typically stopping for a mere minute for every submission before walking away.

It was when he took sight of a humble set of ceramics that he actually stopped to stare. The collection consisted of bowls and pots ranging from small to medium sizes. However, what caught his attention were the traces of gold that coursed through their shapes. They took the form of cracks, which looked too beautiful, too flawless to be such--he couldn’t comprehend them ever being broken at all.

“Do you like them?” A light voice startles him from his thoughts. Standing next to him is a bright-eyed girl whose face he vaguely remembers.

“Y/N Y/L/N? What are you doing here?” He dismisses her question and looks at her with disbelief laced through his voice. The girl was in Ravenclaw when they were still in Hogwarts. Due to the difference in houses and friend groups, there was rarely any interaction between them. Nevertheless, he’s heard countless praises for her artistic talent even as a student, therefore reserved a tinge of respect for her reputation.

“Draco Malfoy! It’s been such a long time!” She beams at him. A breathy laugh escapes him as a polite smile settles on his lips.

“Definitely has been. Were you eyeing this set as well?” He glanced back at the ceramics, contemplating on bidding for them in the auction. The sight of them evoked a warm, admirable energy within him, as though they called for his presence.

“Heavens, no. I actually made them.” Y/N took notice of the way he glanced at them, and shyly rubbed the back of her neck. The boy turned to her with eyes widened in awe of her brilliance—the smile of politeness immediately transitioning to one of sincerity.

“You made these? They’re beautiful!” The comment brought heat to her cheeks.

“Draco, please. You flatter me so.”

“I’ll be taking these home without a doubt.” He reassures her. In the moment that he says so, he immediately takes notice of her appearance. Her hair was slicked into a low bun. Her makeup gave her a pleasant dewy look. Gold accessories accentuates her deep emerald evening gown, which only emphasizes her curves as it flows down her body. He couldn’t recall her ever being attractive when they were students—she had always been clad in blue. But, tonight proved that green was definitely her color.

“You look lovely, by the way.” He complimented as his eyes glossed over her. She bit her lip in response to the butterflies that formed in her stomach.

“You always had a way with words didn’t you, Malfoy?” The melodic laugh that she produced, in turn, caused his heart to skip a beat.

“I admit I was a prat, but I’m not joking around this time.” The girl let out another giggle before placing her hand on his shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze.

“I think you look rather dashing yourself. Unfortunately, though, I have to get going. I’ll see you around?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Draco watches Y/N’s figure as she walks away. Before she goes any further, she looks over her shoulder and says, “Good luck with the auction!”

With a small wave and smile, the boy is left in a lighter state.

The gala came and went with Draco thoroughly exhausted from the copious amounts of socialization. Questions regarding connections to his father were asked, business cards were exchanged, and flattery and compliment was a common occurrence amongst these interactions. Nevertheless, the boy’s energy especially drained from the intensity of the auction that occurred towards the end of the night. All the art pieces were valuable and beautiful, however it was only then that he realized that he wasn’t the only one drawn to Y/N’s work. Competition for the highest bid was at an all-time high as number paddles were desperately raised for every price announced. His heart clambered in his chest as the thought of keeping the ceramics seemingly slipped from his grasp.

“Highest bid for 80,000 galleons! Do we have any takers?” The auctioneer announces. Draco waits for a second to see that no one has raised their paddles. Within the next, he lifts his own confidently.

“We have a bidder for 80,000 galleons! Do we have any more bidders? No?” At this point, adrenaline coursed through his veins, beads of sweat had formed and fell, and the grip on his paddle tightened, leaving marks on his hand.

The auctioneer proceeds to announce the final countdown, “Final bid for 80,000 galleons! 1, 2, 3, sold to Draco Malfoy!” Relief overcame him while congratulatory praises were given by those nearby. He catches Y/N’s gaze from afar, and throws her a wink, signifying the resolution for the chaotic night.

As attendees began to file out of the building, the boy waited in the hall to collect his reward, filling out the form that confirmed the amount he had to pay. With his attention drawn to the slip, he fails to notice Y/N’s presence beside him. She looks over his shoulder, eyes widening at the amount before looking away to suppress the smile that threatens to form on her lips. She never really gave much monetary value to her art before; each one was produced as a product of passion and love. However, the expression that it first brought to Draco’s face, in addition to the amount of effort he put in to attain them, reassures that her work will be well taken care of. She momentarily stares at his broad shoulders before gaining the courage to speak.

“Congratulations!” She says, startling him once again. He takes a second to collect his breath before looking up at her.

“Do you plan on giving me a heart attack, Y/L/N, or is it in your nature to be overly enthusiastic?” The shameless smirk she has on her face, prompts him to release a chuckle. He stands up straight as soon as he signs the piece of paper, engaging his line of vision with hers.

“The way you respond is not my fault, Malfoy.” She answers, playfully shoving her index finger towards his shoulder. He grabs her wrist, and the warmth from his hands, accompanied by the flirtatious gleam in his eyes, prompts her to cast the same expression. She shoots him a coy smile before he releases her from his grasp.

“Would you like to accompany me to the front?” He asks.

“That’d be lovely.” The pair approaches the stage where the volunteers greet them both. They present his items upon confirmation, and proceed to wrap each bowl individually. He lifts one of the unwrapped pieces to his eyes, examining the gold details.

“How’d you manage to pull this off?” He asks, impressed by her craftsmanship.

“It’s a technique called ‘kintsugi’. I learned it while living in Japan for a while after the war,” She says, reaching her hand out for it. He gives it to her.

“You know, these pieces were never supposed to be auctioned off in this gala,” She explains as she delicately traces the lines, “They were so damaged. You can even consider them to be broken beyond repair,” Draco observes as she lifts it to her eye level.

“But obviously, when pieced back together—with all their cracks emphasized by the gold—they have much more value and beauty,” Y/N gives it back to Draco, and he takes it gingerly.

“However, It took a long time for it to come out that way. When you examine the piece before its repair, the first thought in mind would be to discard it. After all, why would anyone bother mending a broken bowl?” She meets his eyes once again.

“These cracks would typically be considered flaws, but at the end of the process the piece is still whole—I’m still whole. They mean a lot to me, and helped me heal from the war and all.” Her line of sight drifts towards the end of her statement, yet the boy catches himself appalled by the passion in her voice. He didn’t expect her to speak so openly, yet the words that flowed from her mouth touch him in a way he can’t comprehend. For once he feels a glimmer of hope budding within. For once, inspiration meets him, and he doesn’t want to lose that feeling she effortlessly provided.

“I’ll make sure to take great care of them.” He says with much sincerity.

He places the piece back onto the table, and turns back to Y/N to see a sweet smile on her lips.

“I have faith you will.” A knowing look is shared between them--one that makes both hearts flutter in longing to see each other again.

“Do you think we can keep in contact? If it’s alright with you that is. I’d like to become more familiar with this art technique.”

“The Slytherin prince wants to keep in contact with me? Consider me wooed.” Draco rolls his eyes and chuckles at the old title. Before he could respond, she speaks again with more seriousness, “I don’t usually accept visitors in my studio, but I’ll make an exception for you. You can come by sometime, if you’d like.”

A genuine smile appears on his lips for the second time that night. Out of all the individuals he exchanged contacts with, she by far had been his favorite. He ensured to send her an owl to confirm their meeting, hoping to do so some time next week.

As they part, she turns back one more time, and calls out to him, “Draco,” The sound of his name perks his head upward

“You should smile more. It’s a lovely sight.” Before he could see her face erupt in a blush, she apparates away. With his new belongings in hand and an obvious grin, he too returns to the manor, feeling elated for the first time in a long while.

It was nine o’clock by the time Draco apparated home. Narcissa immediately took notice of his change in aura much to her relief.

“How was the gala, dear?” She asks.

“Quite pleasant this time around, if I’m being honest. I won these at an auction.” Draco stated as he props the box on top of a table. His mother approaches him, attention drawn to the objects when he reveals the contents inside.

She gasps, “Oh my stars, they’re beautiful.”

She picks one up delicately. The expression she had on her face was very much identical to the one he sported when he came across them the first time.

“I knew you’d like them. The artist was a fellow classmate of mine at Hogwarts.”

“Oh? Who is it? I would like to see more from this artist.”

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. Quite brilliant she is.” Mother’s instinct told Narcissa that this girl had her son taken aback. She saw it through the pleasant expression that graced his facial features, which contrasted greatly to the gloomy air that usually accompanied him. Furthermore, there was a decadent tone in his voice, a sparkle in his eyes, and a slight smile present when her name rolled off his tongue. She decided to probe a little bit more.

“House?”

“Ravenclaw.” He responds.

“Very fitting. The craftsmanship in her work is amazing,” The woman’s eyes marveled at the gold.

“How is she?” She asks. The question catches the boy off guard.

“Pardon?”

“How is she doing? Has she been okay since the war?”

“We didn’t touch upon it too much. Although, she mentioned that creating these has helped her heal.”

“You mean to say that these were broken at one point?”

“Precisely. She mended them.” At this point, Narcissa was quite taken by the girl as well.

“You should invite her over one of these days. I’d love to have a cup of tea with her.” Draco quirked a brow at her.

“You’re not going to ask about her blood status?”

“I would’ve known she was a pureblood from her last name, but times are changing aren’t they not?” Narcissa flashes a tightlipped smile towards her son, to which he responds with a nod of understanding.

“I’ll be going up then. You can keep that one mother. You seem to take a liking to it.” Draco turns on his heel at the end of his statement, carrying the box of ceramic goods under his arm. He wouldn’t acknowledge that times are changing. However, tonight has been the only instance he had felt his life shifting —from the way he reunited with Y/N, to the way his mother spoke. It was a step forward to redemption, and he felt a little more willing to see where it would go.

The boy sat on his bed, deep in thought. With moonlight shining upon him, he delicately traced the golden lines that streaked the small bowl in his hands. Then with much hesitation, he rolled up his left sleeve and began tracing the blaring curves of the mark that stained his porcelain skin. Its presence resembled shackles that have been chained to his ankles, and the weight of the memories caused him to grimace. However the budding warmth that had seeped within him soothed the negative sensations. Heart palpitations of regret transformed into those of hope. Furthermore, recollection of the girl’s words rang through his mind. It led him to wonder if piecing himself into something better would ever be a viable reality—a dream so tempting to pursue that he brought himself to his desk to start a letter addressed to her.

Y/N awoke to a tapping noise on her window. With heavy-lidded eyes, she peeks through her curtains only to be met by an eagle owl. Its wide orbs stared directly at her, and attached to its beak was an envelope. She recalled the conversation she had with a certain platinum-haired boy from the night before, and immediately jolted upward, pushing the window open to let the animal in.

“Do you belong to Draco, love?” It perches itself on her shoulder, and drops the envelope into her hands. A wax seal presents itself with an ‘M’, confirming her inquiry. She opens it with much carefulness, and pulls out the letter inside.

Y/L/N,

How does this Thursday sound? 5:00?

The girl chuckled at how straight-to-the-point he was, while her mind flitted back to their school days. She had always felt neutral about him. In contrast to popular belief, she didn’t think he was quite bad. Despite the harshness behind his actions, his eyes always maintained an undertone of fear. Upon the revelation that the boy was indeed a death eater, the title itself wasn’t what stirred her. Rather, it was the incomprehensible experience that she could merely picture him going through. She was there when he crossed sides. She was no stranger to the distraught look on his face--fear had overtaken him even in that moment. He might’ve been flawed, but it wasn’t without reason.

A cry from the owl broke her out of thought. “Impatient are we?” It blinked in response. Not wanting to keep the bird waiting any longer, she pulls out a piece of parchment and begins to write a response to the letter.

Y/N inserted the parchment into an envelope, sealed it, and handed it to the owl only after she gave it a treat. As she watched it take flight from her window sill, she contemplated more on the boy. ‘Kintsugi’ the art of broken pieces and precious scars. As thoughts of him lingered, she began to wonder if how he fared ever since the war had drawn to its close. Before she knew it, she carried along with her work, totally occupied with the image of him in mind.

Draco’s heart beat like a drum when he skimmed through the contents of Y/N’s response. The feeling of nervous excitement erupted within his stomach up until the moment he stood on her doorstep. Besides the instances in which he’d gone out for his parents, it had been a long while since he stepped foot outside for himself. He took sight of the sheet of clouds that blanketed the sky, the small plants that were scattered on her porch, and the movement of the curtain as wind blew through her open window.

Mere seconds of waiting were filled with more self-doubt as he tugged on his left sleeve, clenching his forearm soon after. Not much could be guaranteed from this meeting. For all he knew, this might’ve been a one a time thing. However, such thoughts were casted aside once he was greeted with Y/N’s glowing smile.

“Draco! It’s so nice to see you!” She stepped aside to let him in, “Please come in.”

The boy greets her, and looks around her small space. He indulges in the glimpse of her expressive decor--somehow they represented the life that she had built and created for herself over time.

“Darling, your jaw is going to fall off,” she chuckled, “Come, the studio is in the back.” The girl gestures at him to follow her, and is met with a small building stationed behind the main house. The image of shelves fills his view upon entering. On them were stacks of cracked ceramic—some in large pieces, others in small. Towards the far corner of the room was a pottery wheel, and opposite from it was a small gas kiln. In the middle was a table space with various tools, brushes, lacquer, and gold. The room was as neat as it could be, much to Draco’s surprise.

“This is me.” Y/N turns around with her arms spread out. She then proceeds to pull a stool out for the boy and urges him to sit. He does so, and she stands in close proximity to him, leaning on the table for support.

“I was actually working on a piece before you came.” The girl points to her current project—a vase whose cracks have already been bound.

“What’s the process like?” He asks

“It’s much longer than you think. I learned how to do it the traditional way in Japan, and I haven’t deviated from it ever since.” The boy quirks a brow.

“You mean to say that there are faster methods?”

“There are, however it’s the process I appreciate the most I suppose. Mending takes time after all.” Y/N, who had been looking down at her feet, glances up at him to see his brows furrowed inwardly.

“Don’t you get impatient?” She nods in reminiscence.

“I used to in the past, but all things worth anything take time, right?” They stare at each other for a moment. Draco, who has longed for the feeling of redemption, looked into the pure intent within her eyes. The silence prompts her to slip a small smile at him.

“How about you, Draco Malfoy? How have you been?” There it was: The question that he could never answer (not truthfully anyway). Despite being in the center of all his thoughts, he hadn’t developed the courage to face them properly. He was stuck in a routine of living that provided a false sense of security. However, the present brought him to the realization that he had never been secure--not with himself.

“Not as good as what people see at face value.” He said simply.

“I never would’ve thought. Although, I suppose it just shows that we can never truly judge others, huh?”

“Yes, definitely.” He allowed his view on her to linger before speaking again.

“I actually wanted to see the way you worked.” It was her turn to quirk a brow at him.

“And why’s that?”

“To see the mending process.” Y/N remained silent as she analyzed the longing look in his eyes. His silvery orbs conveyed volumes of a history that was left unspoken.

He continued, “I want to believe that broken things can be mended.” The determination in his eyes reminded her of why she began learning kintsugi in the first place. Behind the determination was hope that longed to be born to fruition.

“I have one condition,” she said. His eyebrows arched in response.

“You can watch me, but you have to do some mending yourself.” She stepped away at the end of her statement and reached for something on her shelves. When she came back, she grabbed the boy’s hand, and placed a small bowl in his palm. It was a simple piece--still intact--taking on a warm, grey sheen. He looked at her with confusion, only to be met with seriousness.

“Kintsugi begins when something breaks, and it focuses more on the beauty of the process rather than the outcome. That being said, it requires a lot of patience and acceptance.”

“I’m not an artist, Y/N. It won’t be perfect.” The girl takes hold of his other hand, and cups it within hers firmly.

“It doesn’t have to be, Draco. The process belongs to you. You just have to trust yourself.” She said earnestly with her grip on him tightening. The warmth from her hands emanated through his skin and into his chest. She stood so close now, her head tilted upward to meet the uncertainty on his face. It made him feel vulnerable, but he stared back into her eyes with much resolve. It was an answer as it is.

Y/N gave him a reassuring smile and stepped away from him.

“I want you to drop that bowl. You don’t have to smash it, just let it fall.” Draco shifted his glance and looked at the bowl hesitantly. After a couple of seconds, he releases his hold, and allows the piece to slip from his fingers. His eyes were trained on it as it fell through the air, meeting its fate with a shattering sound. The bowl that was once intact was now in pieces on the floor, eliciting a familiar ache within him. It had split into five--a large one, one medium, and three more that were much smaller that comprised the object's rim.

As he bent down to pick up the pieces, a new wave of ambition overcame him. Each chip was picked up with much mindfulness, with responsibility, with purpose. When he stood up again, he began to perceive them as a reflection of himself, and gently placed them on the workbench.

Y/N, who witnessed the entire scene, smiled when Draco turned to face her. Her lips were pulled up gently, sweetly, and it evoked rosy feelings inside him. The boy eyed her as she went back to the shelf.

“How do you feel?” She asked. Her back was turned to him as she reached for another bowl.

“Light.” She smiled at the sound of his response. She returned with a teal-colored bowl in hand. Following his previous actions, she dropped it, allowing the sounds of shatters to fill their ears once more.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“You think I’m going to make you do this alone?” The girl bends down as she gingerly picks up the chips of ceramic from the floor. She proceeds to clear out the table, leaving only the utensils to be used to start the process.

“The materials I use are already here, but we’ll be working only with the lacquer for today.” The two set off to organize their pieces, hearts becoming more aware of one another as time passes on. After everything got sorted out, she demonstrated layering a coat of lacquer to the edges. Draco examined the way the smile instantly left her face, only to be replaced with a focused expression. Her eyebrows lowered, lips in a firm line, sights fixed on the ceramic. He also noticed how languid her fingers were in handling each piece with care.

The solemnity of the sight is broken as she parts her lips to speak again, “Did you know that the lacquer is toxic?” He shakes his head when she spares him a glance momentarily before setting her gaze back onto the chips. “It’s toxic when wet, therefore much care needs to be taken when you lay it on the edges.” She then takes the smaller pieces and proceeds to add lacquer on them as well.

“However,” She continues, “as it dries, it hardens and mends the bowl perfectly.” She attaches the pieces together, and lifts the bowl carefully to show him. The boy stares at her flawless handiwork--the cracks reveal themselves as mere lines, seemingly invisible to the naked eye.

“Strange, right? A substance that was once toxic is used to mend. When it dries it restores the product to perfection, and loses its toxicity.” Draco simply nods. It was a hard concept for the boy to grasp, but her words tickled a corner of his heart. How could something so bad be used to restore something that was once whole into perfection? He gazes at his own project while Y/N sets hers down carefully.

She passes the materials to him, observing as he gingerly takes the brush in hand. He dips it into the pool of lacquer, raising a glob of it up from the bottle.

“You don’t need too much, just enough so that the brush is covered completely.” She reached out to grab his hand, to demonstrate what she had meant. After realizing their closeness, however, she turned a shade of pink and stepped back. Draco tried his best to hold back his smile, but failed miserably.

“I’m s-sorry.” She stammered. He chuckled at her.

“Nonsense, I’m all for this form of instruction.” He said teasingly, eliciting a laugh from her.

“Don’t mind me, just concentrate.” She ordered. Silence loomed, but smiles remained on their faces. Draco continued his work, emulating the way she coated her edges. He gripped each chip firmly while his eyes trailed the movement of the brush. Each second spent felt like darkness was being extracted from within, leaving him light and solemn. With much caution, he then pressed them together, and watched as the product adopted its once flawless form. With an approving look, Y/N explained the proceeding steps, immediately noticing the relaxed expression that had settled on his features. Deciding to take a break, the two embark to the main house to relax.

“Since we have to wait a while, is there anything you want to do? To eat?” She asked as they entered the room. The question, however, was left unanswered due to the sighting of a familiar looking uniform. Hung on her wall was a Ravenclaw robe.

“You still have it?” He asked, pointing to the article of clothing with his chin. She chuckled and pulled it off it’s hanger.

“Yeah. I found it a couple days ago, and thought I’d try it for old times sake.” She slipped it over her shoulders, pulling the boy through a series of flashbacks from his time in Hogwarts. He recalled passing her by the hallways, getting small glimpses of her sketches, even seeing her vibrant personality shine with her friends.

“You know, I always thought you looked better in green.” He said approaching her.

“You think so?” He nodded.

“It’s a shame that we never really talked much. I think we would’ve been good friends.” She said in response.

“You think so?”

“Well besides the bullying, yes. I don’t think you’re as bad as people portray you to be.”

“You give me too much credit, Y/L/N.”

“Maybe you deserve a little more credit than you were granted.” This sparked more warmth within the boy. As she ordered food for delivery, Draco took a seat at her table, his gaze locked on her with the robe still propped on her body. His thoughts drifted as he imagined what might’ve happened if he did befriend the girl. How different would he be if he had her for company? How close would he have allowed their friendship to become? His mind began to wander and he ruminated on the what-could-have-beens, most especially the effect that his receiving of the dark mark would have had on her. His fingers flitted to his arm and rubbed the portion of fabric that covered his mark.

Y/N sat across from the boy, immediately noticing his dazed look.

“What’s on your mind?” She inquires. The boy broke off from his thoughts and refocused his attention to her.

“Just thinking about the past.”

“What of it?” She asked. He looked at her with slight reservation in his eyes.

“How different things would be if we were friends.” Her thoughts lingered on the possibilities for a while before she abandoned them completely. Only one realization came into mind:

“Well, we’re friends now. Perhaps everything that happened in the past was needed for us to meet like this.” She slid off her robe and propped it back on the hanger.

She continued, “Whatever it is, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now belongs to us.”

In that moment, a switch flipped in Draco’s mind, and he knew those words would stick to him for a long time. Maybe it wasn’t a chance at redemption that he yearned for--the conversation he had with her made him realize that the chance had always been presented to him--rather it was company. Genuine company. The one that opened their arms for comfort, the one that offered understanding when he couldn’t offer some to himself, the one that provided reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

She didn’t need to elaborate. Her words conveyed her intent clearly, her eyes blazed with firmness, confidence, and faith in him. The boy closed himself off for way too long out of the fear that he’d be rejected once again. The anxieties that had resulted from the foul glances, derogatory statements, and prematurely formed accusations towards his family locked him away to the only source of comfort that was available to him--himself. How was it possible that he made it through on his own all this time? He barely held on to a thread, and as he crumbled further, so did his grip. And when the grip was no more, he fell into the hollowed body that he was. He allowed his darkness to swallow him, to control him as he mindlessly drifted with each passing day.

Until now.

Right now, in the stillness of the room, in the comfort of her dining table, in the presence of her worn out Ravenclaw robe, the thread had reconstructed itself. It presented itself as the small smile that softly graced her lips, the scent of clay that lingered on her hands, and his bowl that sat solemnly streaked with cracks in the workshop behind the main house.

“I suppose you’re right.” The boy showed a smile of relief, which prompted the girl to reach out for his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Here’s to our friendship!”

There were very few things that Draco cherished in his life: his family and his solitude. As weeks flew by with Y/N’s company, however, he found that his heart was beginning to create space for her as well. It began subtly with the way he silently observed her actions. She catered to each of her pieces with the same amount of dedication--every detail incorporated with mindfulness, with care, and intention. She exerted a similar effort when it came to guiding him. Every step in the process was taught with much patience. Her soft hands would graze his own in attempts to correct his form, to stabilize his shakiness, and to relieve him of the tension that came with his perfectionistic tendencies.

-flashback-

The sound of Draco’s uneven breaths made themselves aware in Y/N’s presence. She had left him alone to tend to his project and herself to her own. Muscle memory led her to scrape off the excess traces of lacquer from the cracks, while the boy fixed his concentration on sanding the surface of his bowl smooth. Scratching noises filled the air, and only became more amplified as minutes ticked onward. It was unfamiliar to the girl--the action itself shouldn’t have required much energy. With a brow arched upward, and her gaze directed towards him, the sight of furrowed brows and tense lines fill her view, eliciting a chuckle from her.

“You’re going to break the bowl at that rate, Draco.” The boy unclenched his jaw and gave Y/N an exasperated look, increasing the volume of her laughter.

“I told you I won’t be perfect.”

“What is it that you’re having trouble with?” Y/N asked, as she made her way to his side of the table.

“Some of the excess just won’t budge from its place.” Draco huffed in frustration. She removed the bowl from his grasp, and examined the object. On the other hand, he takes the liberty to step closer to her, his face peering over her shoulder. The heat emanating from his body distracted her, which she responded to by immediately returning her attention to the remnants that resided on its cracks.

“It helps to focus on one spot at a time,” She grabs the crumpled piece of sandpaper laying on the side, and connects its surface to the porcelain. He watches as she uses minimal yet focused motions to scrub at the excess. Slowly but surely the residue clears out, revealing a clean, crisp line. “See?” She turns her head to the side only to be met with his in such close proximity. His breath softly brushes against her skin. His silvery orbs dive deep into her y/e/c ones. The pulses of their heartbeats ring through their ears, and the concentration shifts from the demonstration to one another.

It’s the apparent flush staining his skin that has her pulling away.

“Why don’t you try?” She nervously asks. Y/N hands the bowl to the boy, and observes as he attempts to emulate her actions. With motions still stiff and choppy, she finally takes his hand into hers.

“Relax, Draco. You need to be patient with it.” With slender fingers wrapped around the back of his palm, she guides his grip with focused and particular motions. The repetition engrains itself into his muscle memory, and he quickly gets the hang of it. He exhibits relief with every remnant removed. In return, she releases her grip and looks at him with a satisfied expression.

“Thank you.” He says, and he means it. With perfection constantly being expected of him, the feeling of humility that comes with being a beginner is foreign. He had always been pushed into the limelight--the weight of his family name designates the image of flawlessness, elegance, and poise in all that he did. No room for mistakes. He was required of only the best. So, when he looks at her and gazes at his hands, a genuine smile spreads on his lips.

The expectation for perfection may have taunted his past, but the realization of his commitment in giving his best brought out a clear sense of victory despite the imperfect process that had been associated with it.

Some days are tougher than others. The nightmares make it difficult to get through the night regardless of how infrequent they became. It always resulted in him waking up, broken into a cold sweat. Goosebumps peppered his skin, the hair behind his neck stood straight, and he would gasp for air. With regret once again overcoming him, a weight forms in his throat--it’s impossible to go to sleep now. Moreover, the fear for the lack of a peaceful slumber keeps him wide awake until sunrise, and there is only one word that shouts at him in the back of his mind.

“Mudblood.”

“You filthy mudblood!”

The sayings are coupled with the memory of his back pressed onto the cold, wet, bathroom floor. He could recall the stinging sensations that pricked his body, the sight of blood seeping through the white fabric of his uniform, and the energy that was draining from his spirit. It was the lowest he has ever been--mere moments away from what could’ve been his end. Maybe that’s what should’ve happened. There was no one for him to turn to--the warmth of his mother’s arms was so far away, the act of shedding tears was sacrificed to protect his family, and the fact that he was already repulsive in the eyes of others caused his hope to plummet. There wasn’t anyone who he could call his true friend--one he could confide in to relieve the burdens he had faced.

But there was Y/N. The erratic heartbeats that rang against his chest subside when he remembered the firmness within her voice as she cheered for their friendship. The sparkle and reassurance that was displayed within her eyes tickled his heart in a way that he hadn’t experienced before. The soft touch of her hands reminded him that he wasn’t alone. The patience in her voice reminded him that despite all of his shortcomings, there was always hope for change.

It was then that he’d pluck himself out of bed, and take hold of the ceramic piece that laid prettily on his desk. With deep breaths, he ran his fingers through its golden streaks, allowing the chilled sensation to calm him down. His eyelids would flutter close, and he’d envision her soft smiles, her chipper personality, and the passion that was expressed through her eyes whenever she worked. He’d recall the worn-out Ravenclaw robe hanging on the wall of her dining room, and remember that she was there. She believed in him. She had given him a chance. With his mind set to ease and the morning sun illuminating through the fabric of his curtains, Draco picked up his own broken pieces, and binded himself with the faith she had as the lacquer to keep him together.

Narcissa and Lucius had noticed subtle changes in the boy. A peaceful light had returned to his silvery eyes, the frown that graced his lips began to fade with time, and the tension that he held in his joints loosened. He treaded the halls with his back upright, his vision trained straight ahead--each step filled with more purpose than the last. They didn’t make it known to him, but the sight brought them much joy.

It was a cloudy day when Draco returned to Y/N’s workshop. This time around, however, there’s much more uncertainty and nervousness within him as he stands in the midst of her working.

Earlier that morning, Narcissa mentioned hosting a ball within the manor (something that hasn’t been done in forever). Invitations were sent out already, the RSVP list continues to grow, and the property itself has been decorated to exhibit its new grandeur. Of course, he agreed to it--slightly concerned about how they’d be perceived--but he was more thrown off by his mother’s only request:

“Please bring Y/N with you, Draco. I’d like to commission her for a piece.” In his mind that translated into, “I want to meet the girl you’ve been constantly visiting.” He knew his mother wasn’t against her. He was more worried about how Y/N, herself, would respond.

The familiarity of her focused expression surfaces, and it attracts him much more than it has before. Her hands are nimble, and she moves fluently. Her hair was tied into a low and messy bun with loose strands framing her face. Her appearance now was much different than their first meeting at the gala, yet his mind went back to that night--picturing her beauty in her deep emerald green dress. With his feelings for her more clarified, he feels his heart beat at the thought of her touch, moreover the thought of his touch on her. Would she even return his feelings?

“Draco, are you alright? You’ve been staring this way for a while now.” He takes the opportunity to test the waters.

“I needed to ask you something actually.” He goes around and pulls a stool to sit on, meeting the level of her gaze.

“And that is?”

“My mother asked for you,” He said, fumbling with his fingers, “My family is hosting a ball, and she wants you to come--she wants to meet you.” He notices the way her eyes widen at the sound of his announcement.

“I’m sorry. Come again?” Draco released a soft chuckle before reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a decorated envelope with her name printed on the front.

“This is yours.” She takes it from his grasp gingerly and brushes her fingers on the fine embellishments. Realization hits her when she skims across the familiar letters of her name.

“I’ve imagined many things in my life, but they certainly don’t come close to this. Wow, imagine being invited to a Malfoy ball.” Her words flowed out with awe, softening his heart. He reaches out, and tucks one of the loose strands behind her ear. The action forces her to look into his eyes.

“She’s taken quite a liking to your work.” His smile brings out one of her own.

“I’m honored.” She starts to beam, “I should go dress shopping soon.” Her eyes remain transfixed on the information given on the actual invite itself.

“I think you’d look beautiful in anything you decide to wear.” It was meant to be a thought--meant to stay in his head--but it came out, and now the girl felt her face get hot. She covered it with her hands, while the boy just looked up at the ceiling to avoid her gaze.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” He says.

“It’s fine.”

“If it’s fine then why are your hands still covering your face?”

“Why are you still looking up?” Draco, lowers his chin and pulls her wrists away.

“I’m not anymore.” When the words leave his lips, and his eyes meet hers, he becomes aware of the amount of peace that he attained since meeting her again. In some way, the silence that fills them is overtaken by the messages that their gazes send to one another, both containing gratitude and affection.

“So will you come with me?” He asks.

“Definitely.”

Y/N paced back and forth while many aristocrats stepped into the manor with much poise in their step. She didn’t mind formal events when it came to art, however, this case felt entirely foreign to her realm of comfort. She wasn’t from a wealthy family nor was she pureblooded either. Surely the end of the war had initiated a shift in change, but the significance of blood status still persisted in some even after. Nevertheless, she made herself present. With much resolve and a false sense of confidence, she stepped into the entrance of the building.

The foyer was bustling with chatter--many attendees stood with glasses of champagne in hand. Still in an awkward stature, the girl takes a look around. The ceilings were decorated with crystal chandeliers. Velvet curtains were pulled to the side, exposing massive windows. Arches, columns, even the walls were covered with ornamental carvings. Every single aspect portrayed luxury. Whenever Draco visited the girl, she discarded his association to wealth and solely focused on him as a person. Because of this, the realization that the boy actually had some coin in his pockets hit her like bricks.

Draco, who had kept his eyes locked on the girl, chuckled to himself. She stuck out from the crowd with her eyes widened in awe. Not to mention her attire. Her hair was kept straight down with golden clips holding it tucked behind her ear. Furthermore, she was dressed in a champagne mermaid gown speckled with beads and embroidery, which flourished outwards and into a sheer fabric decorated with similar details. Her neckline plunged into the middle of her abdomen, yet her shoulders remained covered with long sleeves that wrapped themselves fittingly around her wrists. She truly had the tastes of an artist.

He quietly made his way to her as she continued to gawk at the room. “Your jaw is going to drop, darling.” He whispered in her ear. The feeling of large hands planting themselves on her waist caused her to let out a small yelp, pulling her out of her daze. She let out a breath of relief when she turned to see Draco’s face.

“You scared me.”

“You were gawking at the walls.” Y/N rolled her eyes, and briefly skimmed him from head to toe. Heart skipping at the way his suit had admiringly framed his shape well. She giggled at the sight of the snake brooch that embellished the collar of his jacket.

“Always a Slytherin, aren’t you Malfoy?” As she brushed her fingers along the details of its design, Draco reached for her hand, and held it by her fingers. She could only stare as he lifted it higher to press his lips on it. Butterflies were felt everywhere.

“And a charmer.” She added. They shared a quick laugh before being interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Standing before them was Narcissa, who beamed at the sight of her son with the girl beside him.

“You must be Y/N Y/L/N. I admire your work, dear.” The older woman stuck her hand out, which the girl shook firmly.

“Thank you so much. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Please, call me Narcissa.” The delight in her voice emitted a welcoming energy, loosening the nerves that Y/N felt early on.

“Thank you so much for inviting me, Narcissa.”

“It was no problem at all, dear. I’d actually like to speak to you regarding a commission later on tonight. Would that be alright with you?”

“Of course! I’m honored you’d even considered me.”

“Very well, I’ll leave you two alone now. I hope you enjoy yourselves.” Sweet smiles and gazes were exchanged between the two women. After casting a knowing look to her son, she departs from the pair, disappearing into the crowd.

“Draco, I’ll have you know that I can’t dance to save my life.” He snickered at her confession, already letting the comfort between them settle in.

“It’s alright. Let’s walk instead.” With arms hooked, Draco begins leading her away from the bustling room and into a secluded hall. Mounted on the walls were paintings of his predecessors. He introduced each patriarchal figure to her, starting with Septimus. Her vision plastered itself to their features, mentally discerning the traits that Draco inherited. After a while of walking and conversation, they finally got to a family portrait. Depicted on it was a younger-looking Lucius and Narcissa, and seated on his mother’s lap was a young Draco himself. Y/N unhooked her arm from his, and approached the painting. She concentrated on the little boy. He had bright eyes, a toothy grin, and flowing platinum locks. His hand gripped firmly on Narcissa’s, and his small legs dangled over her dress. He was the only one smiling in the painting, and it warmed your heart knowing that the artist decided to keep that detail in.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” He asks, stepping close. He hesitantly snaked his arm around her waist, hoping that she didn’t mind. She looked up to him and smiled, stepping even closer to him.

“You were so small.” Draco scowled slightly. However, his heart skipped a beat when he saw the way she looked at the portrait with adoration, allowing his foul expression to fade.

“Well that was painted when I was seven, so it’s no wonder I was small.” His sarcastic remark caused her to roll her eyes again, softly slapping the hand that was planted on her. He glanced at her and squeezed her side tighter, pulling Y/N even closer to his body--his warmth increasing the amount of butterflies that rose in her stomach.

“When I walked in earlier, it completely slipped my mind that this was your house. That you grew up here.”

“Why’s that?” He asks, genuinely interested in her response.

“Everytime you came over, I only saw you as Draco. Not as Draco Malfoy, only son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and heir to the Malfoy family name.”

“Please elaborate.” He commands, his heart now racing.

“You’re more than the expectations held for you. You came with commitment to learn about a process that you were genuinely interested in. You grew with your mistakes and your frustrations. That experience was you, and you alone.” She couldn’t help but reveal that admiration she had for him through her voice.

“I thought it was amazing.” She whispered, hoping that he wouldn’t hear her. He did, however. In turn, he grabbed her hand and led her further down the hallway and into his room. Y/N stood there confused at his sudden action. Her eyes then begin to widen at the sight of him removing his suit jacket with her mind drifting to rather dirty thoughts.

“Draco, what are you-”

“I didn’t think it was possible.” Y/N furrowed her brows.

“What do you mean?” Draco looked into her eyes, before shifting his gaze to his left sleeve. Her line of sight follows him as he unbuttons his cuff, and rolls the fabric up, revealing his dark mark. She gasps.

“I didn’t think it was possible to mend myself.” It didn’t take him to say much for her to finally understand that he didn’t intend to do anything dirty. It was the opposite of that. He was making himself vulnerable to her.

“But you showed me how.” He said, completing his statement. Tears brimmed her eyes upon the realization of the reality he had to live. The blaring mark that took away his innocence screamed against his pale skin. It screamed of the pain, of loneliness, and the many many long sleeved shirts he must’ve worn to keep it hidden away.

“If there’s anyone amazing, it’s you, Y/N.” The tears that had built up fell as she furiously shook her head.

“No, Draco. It’s you. It’s all you.” She took his arm delicately into her hands and pressed her lips on his dark mark. Draco felt his eyes well up in tears, while her own spilled onto his skin. Every kiss that she peppered seemed to paint over his scars, his cracks with gold. The feeling of emptiness dissipated in her presence, only surrounding him with warmth that he had yearned to keep.

“I’m thankful for you.” He whispers. Y/N couldn’t hold herself back at that point anymore. She released his arm from her grip, and held his cheeks within her fingertips, wiping the moisture that managed to fall from his silvery orbs. She, then, slowly lifts herself using her tiptoes, and scans his face for a moment before pressing a sweet, short kiss on his lips. It was gentle, much like her. It was patient, much like her. It was filled with faith, hope, and concern--things that she hadn’t been able to express to him in words, yet was felt through her kiss. Draco closed his eyes at the sensation. When she parted from him, he cupped her face with his hands, and drew her close once more. A sigh escaped her as she felt all the emotions he managed to keep in. Each press conveyed a level of appreciation that the boy had never thought he was capable of showing.

In that moment a memory of a shrill shout fills her mind, and she stops so suddenly.

“Weren’t you struck with sectumsempra?” She asks with her brows furrowed towards him. His lack of response confirms her curiosity.

“May I?” Her fingers trail to the top of his shirt as she makes her request. Knowing what it is she wants to see, he nods, prompting her to carefully undo the buttons. Her hands tremble as she makes her way down, revealing the scars that resided on his body. She pushes the fabric over his shoulders, and begins tracing each one--much similar to the way he has done with the golden cracks on her bowl. She slowly lowers herself and starts placing kisses where he has been struck. With her hands gently fastened to his sides, her lips linger in one area before transferring to another. He finds comfort in them--it was as if each sensation reassured that he was loved. As she travels upward, she plants a kiss on his jaw, and a final one on his own. With it she expresses a message dedicated only to him: I believe in you.

They separate and bask in the moment by holding each other’s gaze. After a while, Draco wraps his arms around her waist, and pulls her into a tight embrace. He nuzzles his nose on the crook of her neck and kisses it, while she runs her hands up and down his bare sides. His left hand then finds its way to her jaw, tilting her face upwards. He proceeds to nip the expanse of her neck, making her head fall back to grant him more access. The hand that was wrapped around her waist travels downwards to her hip, grips it, and presses her body against his.

“Draco,” she moans.

“Hm?” She doesn’t respond. She finds herself completely intoxicated by his lips as he moves from her neck, her sternum, and to her exposed abdomen. Instead, she laced her fingers into his hair and pushed him closer to her skin.

The pair was interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door.

“Young master! Are you in there?” It was a houself. Draco presses a finger to his lips, signalling to remain quiet.

“I don’t think he’s there, we should check elsewhere.” Light footsteps were heard fading into the distance, eliciting a light laugh between the two. Y/N looks into his eyes once more, and kisses him one last time.

“Should we go?” He responds with a small ‘yes’ and kisses her forehead. As he buttons his shirt, the girl plods across his room, fascinated with its luxuriousness as she takes in the details. One of them causes her to gasp, however. She walks with her throat choking up at sight of the familiar bowl that was placed on his desk. It was hers. She lifts it gently, recalling their first conversation at the gala. The golden scars remind her heavily of the boy behind her. As she traces them, warm hands rub against her sides before snaking around her waist once more.

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?” Y/N laughs at his question.

“I suppose it does.” She says as she weaves her fingers into his. The boy takes a moment to stare at the bowl ahead.

“When you said that Kintsugi helped you heal, I wasn’t quite sure to believe you or not. But, going through the process was more than enough to make me understand why.”

“You truly are amazing Draco Malfoy. I won’t let anyone tell me you aren’t.”

“Even if my past is completely flawed?”

“Your past made you into who you are right now. What we have is ‘now’, and ‘now’,” she sets the bowl down and faces him, while her hand caresses his cheek. “...‘now’ belongs to us. Now you are amazingly, wonderfully, imperfectly perfect.”

Epilogue:

The sound of Y/N’s words rung in his mind as Draco found himself standing in the middle of her workspace. With a firm grasp on the brush handle, he dips the bristles into the gold liquid, allowing the excess to drip back.

He takes a deep breath, and allows the solemnity of the room to fill him. Many thoughts overtake him in the moment, but only one makes itself prominent to him, resilience. After going through the binding process himself, he pridefully lays down the gold over the cracks on his bowl--each one portraying the imperfections of his past.

A/N: Hi! If you made it this far, I want to thank you so much for reading! There’s a bit of inaccuracy in the last bit, but besides that I hope I brought much light to the technique in general. I hope you enjoyed!! Feedback is very much appreciated :D

Tagging:

@beiahadid @hahee154hq @mushi98 @stretchyice @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @saby06143 @rottenhexrt @littlethie @amithatemo

Link to the taglist is on my masterlist :D

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagines #draco lucius malfoy #tw depression #tw self degredation

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a-tatterdemalion-in-glass · 3 years

Text

This Town’s Infested with Urban Animals

So one of the cooler ideas that pops up in This Town Will Never Let Us Go are these things I’ve been calling ‘urban animals’ after a line in the text, which, not to spoil too much, are basically agents of the War Powers that are integrated into the local environment to fulfill certain goals, weaponizing certain cultural images and connotations for maximum effect.

It’s a bit more complex than that, but it’s kind of impossible to really go into the detail without spoiling a chunk of the plot, so I’m putting the rest under the break.

So for anyone that hasn’t read the book, basically the titular unnamed Town is one of the many places that the War in Heaven (a massive war fought over all of time between groups called the War Powers) intersects with, and two of the three view point characters are directly influenced by it.

One of the POV’s, Valentine, is attempting to use a nuclear bomb on a crashed Ship of War (a time active vessel) that is trapped under the Town, and in the latter part of the book Valentine is attacked by these Urban Animals, which take several forms.

One is a silver van that seems to be observing him,

and later attacks him as he attempts to escape his building

And might be semi-sentient? (and this is where to term ‘urban animals’ is dropped).

There are also animals that Valentine dubs Dogs of War.

And lastly, we have vessels that take on the appearance of helicopters

These three things are agents of the War Powers that appear to have adapted themselves to take on common iconography in order to blend in to their surroundings.

Why make a fuss when you can just have your drones appear as helicopters, or vans? Why use a horrible monster to take out an enemy agent when a dog will do?

However, it has to be said that Valentine is not the most reliable POV. He is actively taking heavy drugs to stay awake at this time of the story, and what he sees is possibly discredited later on in the story.

First we see that the three ships that are chasing them are just local helicopters that have been drawn into the story by other events.

And we later learn that the Dogs of War that he encounters in his apartment building are simply local dogs owned by another resident.

Which seems to point to a more mundane reality, but there is something weirder going on here than at first glance.

You see, the Ship of War that is buried beneath the Town? The one that Valentine wants to nuke?

Well it happens to mainly exist on a conceptual level. One which Inangela, one of the other (admittedly, also slightly unreliable) viewpoint characters interact with.

The Ship of War exists on a conceptual level. Its a time travelling ship, but more than that, it is time, and history, and the very culture of the Town itself. It has built up the very society around it to such a place and degree to create Inangela’s ritualist beliefs as a way to free itself. The Ship of War is a self-actualizing piece of psychosphere that is weaponized to fight not just a Time War, but a War over and through history and culture.

So the ship is less an active place and more an active idea. Inangela and the rest can see it because they have created the context necessary to perceive it.

If a Ship of War can either be a collection of human culture and beliefs as well as a vehicle used to fight a war, than why can’t your agents be cultural symbols and cultural connotations that just so happen to also exist as various animals and vehicles that are operating under no active knowledge of their roles?

And a similar idea even pops up in the first scene that the Dogs show up in, which discusses why the Dogs appear as, well, dogs.

Have your agents appear as something that can be reasonably found anywhere, instantly recognizable and subconsciously feared, and naturally have skills in hunting, scouting, and attacking.

If you’re fighting a war through time and history, with Ships that can effect human culture just be existing, it would make sense that you would also be able to place your agents naturally into their environment. Say you need a Dog of War in a place? You build it’s entire history from being born, to be trained as an attack dog, and then adopted by someone who just so happens to live in the same building as target will later live in, and who lets their dogs out to roam freely. And then when the target is there and ready to be taken down, you have your Dog of War just so happen to be out in the halls, trained to be aggressive through in universe sources, and ready to attack.

Why Valentine can see them as the War Powers do at this point is that he’s been primed to see them, the way Inangela is primed to see the Ship of War, because he’s seeing the world through a cultural context of being the lone hero out stop the War.

And one of the War Powers has built him up to that point. The culture of the Town itself is being controlled and fought over by both sides of the war. So if Inangela has been primed to free the Ship of War, Valentine has been primed to blow it up. And him seeing these Urban Animals as they really are, agents of the War Powers, is just reinforcing his belief that he’s doing the right thing.

What’s more normal for someone trying to take on a shadowy quasi-government than being chased by vans and helicopters?

And near the end when he's stopped? Well, one of those helicopters just so happens to start suffering from random electrical problems.

And then that helicopter just so happens to crash and set off the homemade nuclear bomb.

The death-toll of which coincidentally has the effect of stopping anyone from criticizing the war, and connects any such attempts to Valentine’s terrorist actions, which definitely seems to be the goal for at least one of the Powers at play.

And when you look at that, the technology that the War Powers possess and how they seem to operate, it seems to me that these urban animals are more than just random vehicles and animals, and are actually active agents in the War, and a pretty ingenious one at that.

#Faction Paradox #doctor who #Doctor Who Extended Universe #dweu #this town will never let us go #lawrence miles #This was so much longer than I first intended #but I wanted to get all my thoughts into one place #It's definitely one of the coolest ideas in the book #I've had this saved as a draft for a month or so now

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qwanderer · 3 years

Text

What makes a Loki a Loki?

Loki is called upon to be a lot of different people. He’s been raised on Asgard, and that’s formed some of the more basic aspects of his personality and values, but at the same time he has attributes that have been consistently discouraged and pushed down by that culture, and we can see them step forward as he moves into situations where they are encouraged.

Throughout the canons, there are a lot of Lokis. Siege Loki, Lady Loki, Kid Loki and his murderer, Ikol, King Loki, and the God/Goddess of Stories. The earlier aspects I know only by secondhand information, but I’m very familiar with Loki from Young Avengers and Agent of Asgard, some of my favorite comics of all time. But I know some basic facts - the way the earliest Loki was a quintessential comic book villain full of pure simple theatrical mischief and ridiculous schemes, the fact that Lady Loki was a somewhat more sinister appropriator of bodies for her own use.

In my view, MCU!Loki has, at the very least, the same capacity to shift personalities depending on the circumstances, and I haven’t yet seen anything in the Loki show that’s thrown my suspension of disbelief with regards to his characterization.

I’ve seen some people rebel at the idea of Loki gleeful over the destruction of Pompeii and the causing of chaos it allowed, but it reminds me of some meta I wrote very early on in my years of meta-writing in the MCU. The values Loki was raised with, Asgardian values, sometimes treat death very lightly, especially death in battle, especially human or otherwise non-Aesir death. In the Aesir context, at least to a certain extent and certainly in terms of what we’ve seen Odin teach his sons onscreen, violence is honorable, fighting is an adventure, lives are cheap and Valhalla is the ultimate goal.

I think a lot of the central conflict of Loki’s character is that he follows some of these principles to their logical conclusions in situations that Aesir values never meant them to cover. If life is unimportant, then it won’t be so bad if I tell Thor that Odin is dead. If the throne of Asgard has dominion over all the Nine Realms, then why shouldn’t I rule Midgard?

But he also shifts the way he acts to suit the situation. He is a shifter, it’s what he does. On Asgard, he is expected to be a warrior, a dignified prince, a companion and support for his brother. The values are bravery and dignity, and so a lot of what he projects there is bravado and elegance, which are close enough for him to get by.

When he is taken by Thanos, the only things Thanos wants and values are power and death. So Loki becomes an avatar of power and death. He carries that with him to Earth, because he is still very much under the jurisdiction of Thanos. But he very quickly learns how to use and manipulate Earth values, like wit and pathos. They seem to fit him better than the others, and he carries them through the other movies and the different frameworks he finds himself in.

He also tends to carry Asgard with him, the knowledge that he’s a prince, destined to be a king, that he needs to carry himself a certain way, with that elegance, dignity and bravado.

When I see Loki in the first episode of the show, I recognize him as some of the deepest, most quintessential parts of Loki that have only been allowed to peek out on occasion before. And that is due to manipulation on Mobius’s part - Mobius makes it very clear what he expects of Loki. To get down to the very basic levels of him and find out his motivations, what makes him fundamentally himself - “What makes Loki tick?” There’s a quiet void there, and the only thing that’s being asked of Loki, for once, is that he sit down and fill that void with words - the truest and most sincere words possible.

There’s a clear and interesting divide between that phase for Loki, and the phase we see in episode two - Mobius has stopped providing that space, and in the interim, he’s made it very clear what he expects Loki to be like, what mold he’d prefer the trickster to fit into.

The hard-working, lovable scamp.

Loki is hiding his deepest self again, which we all do most of the time. Loki can’t feel that deeply and express that freely all the time. Because of the environment he’s in - which may not be any more or less free than any of the other environments he’s experienced - he expresses himself in a particular way. He is the hard-working, mischievous scamp Mobius has been pushing him to be.

I don’t think he’s any more or less himself than he’s ever been - he’s simply responding to different pressures. And the pressures of this episode press him very hard into the Neal Caffrey mold. Which is an interesting mold in itself - when I was writing White Collar fic, I made a point to distinguish who Neal was when he was with Peter and who he was under different circumstances - prison, witness protection, with Mozzie, with Kate. (I wrote an autistic Kate, and had him most freely himself when he was with her.)

Like Neal Caffrey, the Episode 2 Loki is treading a line between behaviors that will get him things because he’s useful and compliant, behaviors that will demonstrate that he’s into minor trickery for fun now and might not be getting up to anything bigger, and those bigger tricks that are definitely still running in the background. It’s the obvious balance for a trickster on a leash with an indulgent bureaucrat.

You can see that it’s a facade in the way that he is near tears when he sees the Ragnarok paperwork, but when he brings it to Mobius’s attention and Mobius expresses his sympathies, Loki says “Yes, very sad,” and then dismisses it in favor of moving on to his mischievous enthusiasm over the resulting theory he’s had.

Like all good lies, it’s built out of truth, so when I see this Loki, I see pieces of the Loki I know, just put together a little differently, which is how Loki seems to do it.

Although he’s not free as he might hope to be, and in fact threading a narrow path between a very constricting set of pressures, I do still think he’s enjoying the dropped expectations of dignity and elegance. I think he’s enjoying being in a culture that encourages him to be a geek. To go on about the things he’s passionate about and his areas of expertise. And I think that’s a lot of what unsettles people about this Loki, because that elegance and dignity have carried everywhere else with him. And I’m not going to argue that the TVA are doing anything nice for him - quite the contrary - but I still do enjoy seeing him able to be the geek he’s always had the inclination to be, in the right circumstances.

It makes me wonder, a little, how much his mother is on his mind right now, after the first episode, because if I had a guess, the last time he’s felt free to be this enthusiastic and expressive about his interests is in magic lessons with her as a child.

So. The other variant.

We know from the Lady Loki comics arc that Loki can possess other people’s bodies over the long term, and we know from kid!Loki and his murderer interacting in YA that the original occupant of a body can sometimes hang around and talk back, if only as a figment of his imagination. We know from most incarnations that Loki can go to a lot of dark places if the circumstances push him to it.

As I’ve said before, I’m intrigued by the question the difference between the two variants poses - how much different can two Lokis be before they are no longer meaningfully the same person?

We’ve got clues on both sides, of course - our scamp on a leash saying “I wouldn’t do this to myself” on the side of them being not the same person, and the vengeful goddess he’s chasing saying “I was afraid they’d found a better version of me” on the side of them being the same person.

The more I think about it, the more I’m willing to predict that this vengeful goddess is, in some way, an incarnation of Loki. But (be warned, I’m going to reference Stephenie Meyer now) it could be in as small a way as something out of The Host - a stolen body’s original personality fighting dirty against the invading spirit.

If this is something based on the character of Sylvie from the comics, it could still be anything from a person - human or Asgardian - chosen and manipulated by Loki to do his bidding, to a full-on possession, or even a body constructed for a specific purpose but developing its own personality traits.

We know this variant is a body hopper, and Mobius’s briefing mentioned that it’s an inherent ability of most Lokis to shapeshift, so there are a lot of potential explanations for this unfamiliar shape.

But the differences between the variants could also stem mostly from different experiences.

The only thing I’m at all sure of is that this variant has also been tortured by Thanos. It’s possible that she branched earlier - that the wild desperation of having freshly escaped Thanos translated into being dragged into the TVA like a cornered wildcat, on the raggedy edge and desperate enough to go all-out to get out of the collar while still in the custody of the minute men. Then, as she became familiar with the TVA in concept and execution, developed opinions and built a personality around taking them down, taking them apart the way she wished she could do to Thanos, the way Thanos did to her.

But she could also have branched later - after the destruction of Asgard, or when Thanos appeared on the refugee ship. After the worst has happened to her people. With some preexisting notion that time could have gone differently, that some things that had happened should not be allowed to happen.

I have a weak spot for interactions between incarnations of Loki in the comics, so I am incredibly eager to see the MCU’s take on this.

#Loki meta #the loki show #loki spoilers #loki laufeyson #loki #meta #marvel #comics #616 #white collar #the host #sylvie #loki s1e2

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star-anise · 4 years

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Why were acorns phased out as a major food source in europe? When did it happen? Was it simply because less oak was planted once they didn't need as much lumber and firewood? Was it because masting made it an inconvent staple?

Until I got this ask I had no clue acorns ever had been a major food source in Europe. There are apparently over 500 different varieties of oak, and none of the ones I’m familiar with have edible acorns--but there are several around the Mediterranean, as well as in Asia and North America, which are edible, and in Europe acorns were apparently a major part of traditional diets in Spain and Italy. Wild! Acorns seem to tie into a landscape that is largely forested grazing land, where pigs root around under trees.

So as I looked into it, I found references that acorns were a large part of the diet still at the end of the 19th century, and that in 2013, the elderly members of the culture remembered when it was a staple. So that made me think it’s probably a change that happened over the 19th and especially 20th centuries.

Then I picked an area frequently mentioned as a consumer of acorns: Sardinia, in southern Italy. What has Sardinia’s agricultural history been like?

I found one study that said that Sardinia has been a human-impacted landscape since Roman times, but its land use patterns changed markedly under the house of Savoy. It isn’t freely available as fulltext, so I asked @kawuli if she could get me a copy. While I waited, I scampered over to the Wikipedia article History of Sardinia and found: “In 1820, the Savoyards imposed the "Enclosures Act" (editto delle chiudende) on the island, a legislative act which turned the land's traditional collective ownership, a cultural and economic cornerstone of Sardinia since the Nuragic times, into private property. This gave rise to many abuses, as the reform favoured the landholders while excluding the poor Sardinian farmers and shepherds, who witnessed the abolition of the communal rights and the sale of the land."

Then @kawuli got back to me with the PDF. I told her that I was researching why acorns are no longer a staple food in Europe, and she said, “ well, because literally anything is easier to process than acorns? like, why would you do all the soaking grinding whatever when you have the ability to PLANT WHEAT, which probably yields a lot more per area and per unit labor.” (She studies agriculture and land use, so I consider them a source) The PDF confirmed that starting in 1820, Sardinia saw a trend of forests being turned into cropland, and this only intensified as time went on and they had two World Wars, especially as quarries and urbanization ate into land use too.

The one place I still see acorns used today is in the creation of Jamón Ibérico, which as anyone who’s watched the first episode of Brooklyn 99 will know, is an INSANELY expensive ham made from purebred pigs that have grazed upon chestnuts and acorns.

This all sounds very familiar to me, steeped as I am in the British agricultural revolution. Wealthy landowners who were steeped more in scientific knowledge of the newest methods than peasant traditions of working the land said, “Hold up. We could produce WAY more food and money if we changed how we did this. Let’s get rid of all these inefficient old methods and plant cash crops instead.”

Acorns were, in a sense, the victims of the rise of capitalist agriculture. (They might be making a comeback, though; an article on Sardinian conservation says that deforestation reached its peak around 1965, and Sardinia’s forests have been growing ever since then.)

To tangent away from Sardinia: to me, the Acts of Enclosure were in many ways the moment Britain’s culture kind of broke--I can draw a very clear line from them, to the sense my ancestors who settled in Canada have that there are three types of land: Land you own, which can be exploited however the goddamn hell you want; Land somebody else owns, which they can exploit however they want and fuck anybody else; and public land, which ??? what’s that even for??? It’s a legacy that’s left us, culturally, without many robust frameworks for how to negotiate our collective relationship to the environment, our collective or individual rights to each other, and individual person’s relationship to the place they live (landlord rights vs tenant rights OH BOY).

But every time I get really down on enclosure, the agricultural revolution, and everything else, my knowledgeable friends remind me: The Agricultural Revolution happened because Europe was losing its ability to keep people from starving. More efficient agriculture gets people fed. If you want to have lots of people whose lives don’t involve backbreaking labour, you need a single farmer to be able to produce much more than they actually need.

The old ways had value, but the new ones did too, and we can’t turn the clock back entirely. We can only try to weave some sort of better future.

#staranise original #agriculture #realquickwhatshouldwecallyu

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cal-kestis · 3 years

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You Will Never Be Alone Again | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

(Epilogue of The Aftermath of Losing Everything)

moodboard/sketch/gifs made by me, please don’t repost :)

Summary: Each morning, he’s there, holding you with his smiling lips pressed against your neck and his heart beating against your chest. (Set after S2) Rating: M Word Count: 3018 Warnings/Tags: Soft!Din, FLUFF, no use of ‘Y/N’, suggestive content

[PART I] // [PART II] // [PART III] // [Read on AO3] // [Series Masterlist]

xi.

It’s strange not waking up by yourself, strange to feel blanketed in a kind of warmth and comfort, not even the early morning suns could radiate.

Sometimes, you think this must be some wild fantasy, a sweet sublime dream that could evaporate into smoke if you dare open your eyes.

But each morning, he’s there, holding you with his smiling lips pressed against your neck and his heart beating against your chest. It’s no secret you love him, it’s written all across your face even with a peripheral glance. Falling for him happened fast and a long, long time ago. Yet in these quiet moments when you’re in the place between wakefulness and sleep, you think you’re still cascading over the crest — falling for the tiniest pieces of him that others would need a magnifying glass to see.

Like those delicate wrinkles that frame the corners of his brown eyes when he looks at you, the way they deepen as he smiles. It’s hard to describe how beautiful those lines are… what they mean. Wrinkles don’t develop overnight. No, he’s smiled enough times for those creases to permanently etch themselves into his skin. It makes your heart soar knowing that, despite all he’s been through, he’d allowed himself those sparse moments of happiness. You’ve hopelessly fallen in love with the lines beside his eyes, evidence that a bright side can exist even in the darkest of hours.

And still, perhaps something you love even more is the way he kisses you until you forget every night you’d ever lay awake feeling alone in the universe.

It’s all so strange in the best, most beautiful way.

Din has given you so much and you only hope he can see your heart, the words carved on it — poems about him, his eyes, the charming lines that tug at the corners. You hope he can see how you’ve kept every word he’s every whispered against your skin, how you’ve inscribed them onto your beating soul: secrets and promises only the two of you will ever get to know, your own name scribbled by his lips a thousand times. You’ll treasure the invisible markings forever. Your heart’s covered in him and you just hope he can see.

With Din, life seems more meaningful, peaceful, beautiful… full. And though frightening shadows still lurk, you know you don’t have to face them alone.

Of course, there are times you worry, moments when he still seems trapped in his head, sinking into deep waters with that silver ball clutched in his hand. But he has you now, his liferaft, one with patched up holes and dents that will always come to pull him back up to the surface.

On those nights when he gets lost in the treacherous tsunami of his mind, you try to give back to him everything he’s so generously offered you. And even as you draw rasped sighs and choked cries and broken moans from his lips, your fingers painting patterns across his body… you know what heals him most are the moments after: the way your breath slows down to match his, how your lips press so gently over his eyelids until they close and project dreams of you as he sleeps.

Meant for me, he’d once said. Or maybe, meant for you.

—

xii.

In the sacred moments you and Din have to yourselves — no quarry to chase, no demons to face — you find yourselves on beautiful secluded planets like this one, surrounded by towering trees and lush rolling hills and long blades of grass and calm creek cadences. Somehow, each new system is more stunning than the last, and every time he opens the ramp to his ship, he intently watches your wonderstruck reaction as your eyes take in a fantastical new planet and gorgeous environment.

Visiting new planets off-duty comes with its own routine. He walks with you as you explore with wide eyes, sits beside you when you find a colorful plant to draw, lifts his helmet ever so slightly when the desire to kiss you — your cheek, your temple, your shoulder — becomes too overwhelming. And when night falls, you both retire to his ship, where he can freely remove every piece of armor and kiss every inch of your skin until it’s all you can dream of.

Since the confrontation at the Imperial base, Din’s also taken it upon himself to train you. Not in the ways of the Jedi, of course. That, you’re learning to study on your own. Din trains you like a Mandalorian — a zealous approach to weapons and warriorship. He’s a patient and compassionate teacher, and it only ties your heart to his in a tighter knot. With his gentle guidance, handling a blaster is hardly an obstacle and it only takes a month or two before you become well-acquainted with the darksaber he’d hidden in his storage cabinet for so long.

When he’d finally told you the story of the ancient weapon of legend, gravity had seemed to press harder against his back, making his shoulders slope and his head hang even lower. Because, on the day he’d parted with his son, he’d not only removed the mask of his Creed, he’d also acquired the crown of a cursed planet. And he still doesn’t know which one weighs heavier atop his head.

After that, you’d dedicated yourself to training with renewed vigor — wanting to be prepared if ever the target on his back brought upon old Imperial enemies or new ones who sought to usurp him from the throne he never wanted.

Today, much like the other times you’d trained with him, it’s mostly just chopping at trees and bushes. You can’t deny how much stronger you feel just holding the Mandalorian weapon and knowing you can defend yourself even without the Force.

There’s a part of you, however, that feels like Din’s holding back. Whenever you’d asked when you’d be ready to spar with him, eager to test your newfound skills against something that can actually fight back, he’d simply readjusted your stance with gentle hands and asked you to show him the different sword strokes he’d taught you.

“Very good,” Din praises as you step forward and swing the darksaber through the air, slicing clean through a thin branch.

“Well, that tree had it coming,” you scoff, crossing your arms with over-exaggerated toughness. “I’ve had enough of your bark, tree. It’s about time you leaf.”

“Puns. You’re upset,” he says, not a question.

“I’m not upset,” you lie, trying to put on your best sabacc face. But his helmet tilts in a way that’s far too knowing for a darkened, T-shaped visor, and you sigh in defeat under his scrutinizing stare. “Fine. I just… I just think I’m ready to up the ante here. And I feel like you’re holding back.”

He stares at you for a moment, studiously looking you up and down.

“Your posture is too slouched,” he explains, changing the subject again. “Go back to ready position.”

“Don’t do that,” you heave out another exasperated sigh.

“Ner kar’ta...”

“No, don’t ‘ner kar’ta’ me. Just because you’ve got this shiny sword,” you argue, the glowing saber humming in your hand as you brandish it back and forth, “and you’re technically a king or whatever—”

“Mand’alor,” he interrupts. “And I’m not.”

“—doesn’t mean everything you say is law. I want you to fight me. I’m ready,” your voice softens, stepping closer to him as your pleading hands wrap around the back of his neck. “I want to really learn from you.”

“We’re not doing this,” he answers, despite willingly staying trapped in the cage of your arms.

But you don’t back down. Instead, you lean forward, lips barely a hair's breadth from his helmet before you boldly kiss the spot where his mouth would be, lingering and watching how the tinted panel fogs up. The print of your mouth marks the dark visor and it makes you grin.

“Fight me, Mando,” you whisper, all sultry bravado laced with a tease that prickles the skin beneath Din’s armor.

“Ready position,” he rasps like he’s annoyed at himself.

A metallic, musical sound rings in the empty forest as he unsheathes the beskar spear behind his back. And like a giddy child, you bounce on your feet and step backward, swinging the darksaber in your hands before taking your stance.

Din stands sturdy just a few feet away, spear gripped tightly in his gloves. He slowly lowers himself, knees bent just slightly, an air of strength and confidence surrounding him. Then, hardly perceptible, he nods.

You dig your heels into the soil, your boots squashing the grass below your feet. With your legs spread wide, you draw the darksaber up to the side of your head, the blinding glow casting a white halo on your cheek. Narrowing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you charge forward at lightning speed, zeroing in on the shiny armor in front of you.

At the last second, Din dodges your attack, stepping to the side and watching as you rush past him. You somehow manage not to trip over your own feet and hastily twirl around to face him again. But Din’s already got the point of his spear aimed at the side of your throat.

“You’re relying too much on your speed,” he explains, spear hovering just below your ear. “Size up your opponent first. Figuring out their weakness is more valuable than using up all your strength. Go again.”

You huff at him but get back into ready position, breathing deep in through your nose and out through your mouth. This time, you take a moment to assess him for weak spots. There aren’t many of course, not visible at least. But you decide the side of his stomach is your best bet.

The moment he nods his head, you take a leap forward and twist your wrist, swinging the blade toward his waist. His spear spins swiftly to block the strike, your weapons meeting in a clash of sparks and high-pitched whistles. You summon all your strength to push the saber against his spear, watching as the silver metal turns orange under the intense laser’s heat. And just when you feel like you’re gaining the high ground as Din’s body bends under your advance, he sweeps his boot beneath you and you fall backward, losing grip of the darksaber.

“That was better,” he says with approval, scanning your body as you lay on the ground and groan loudly. “You okay?” He gently wonders, coming closer and extending a gloved hand toward you.

With shaking fingers, you reach for him. And the moment you feel his grip tighten around your hand, an idea sparks. Without another thought, you yank him forward onto the ground beside you. He lets out a surprised grunt when he hits the dirt and you take full advantage of his shock, straddling his hips and trapping his arms beneath your legs. You extend your hand out to the side and, within seconds, the darksaber comes flying back into your fist. With a bright flash, you ignite the laser blade near his throat.

“That’s cheating,” he says, but you can hear the proud smile in his voice.

“I simply assessed my opponent’s weakness,” you grin, retracting the saber into its hilt and leaning down until you’re nose-to-nose with his helmet. “Just so happens, his weakness is me.”

“Good girl,” he says, and you can’t fight the way his praise sends a fluttering warmth to your belly.

You kiss his helmet again with an exaggerated smacking sound before getting off of him and saying, “Let’s go again.”

Din spars with you for nearly two hours, offering gentle advice each time he bests you (which is most of the time) and showering you with praises whenever you find a way to get the upper hand. It fills you with unmatchable strength and confidence.

“That’s enough for today, verd’ika,” he says, slightly breathless as he brushes dirt off your clothes. “It’s getting dark. Let’s head inside.”

You smile at him, filled with an intense urge to kiss him. So, you reach for his helmet, slowly, just in case. His head turns left and right, checking if the coast is clear, before nodding. You lift the beskar slightly, just enough to reveal his mouth and his neatly-trimmed mustache, and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Thank you, Din,” you whisper as you set his helmet back in its place. You can almost see the bemused look on his face as he stares at you.

And as you walk back to the ship, a re-energized bounce in your step, you decide to tease him one last time, turn around, and smirk. “Meet you in the fresher.”

—

xiii.

Din’s hair hangs in waves over his forehead as he gazes down at you, leaning on his left forearm to stay suspended over your body.

He smells delicious, like his herb-scented soap and the delicious meal he’d cooked for you tonight. His skin is glazed in a radiant sheen and his eyes somehow glow in the dim lighting of your shared quarters.

You’ve learned to appreciate rare nights like this, when there are no jobs to keep him away from you for days at a time. When your eyes get to unabashedly roam over the golden expanse of his skin, without heavy armor or layers of cloth in your way. When you get to listen to his voice for hours on end as his hand traces lines and circles into your skin.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask him, noticing how his entranced stare focuses on your lips when you speak.

He strokes a calloused finger over your cheekbone, then under the curve of your lips, until his thumb finds a resting place over your chin and gently swipes back and forth.

“You,” he answers honestly, leaning down to kiss you, tasting your smile on his tongue. He lingers there for a long moment, hanging from your lips like a man on the edge of falling though he’s already fallen countless times before.

“That’s all?” You whisper, feeling his hot breath brush against your mouth.

He rests his forehead against yours, his nose rubbing along the side of your own.

“And how much the kid would have loved this planet,” he continues wistfully. “Running through the grass and catching frogs or whatever he could eat.”

Your soft laugh is bittersweet as he reminisces over his son, the corners of his eyes wrinkling mere centimeters from your face.

“Thinking about how he would have liked watching us train together. He’d probably cheer for you to win,” Din chuckles when you scrunch your nose and shake your head doubtfully. Then, his face softens and his eyes glisten. “Grogu would have loved you.”

An errant tear falls from Din’s lashes and drops onto your cheek, and there's little you can do to keep your own from getting mixed in — a tiny melancholy river forming atop your skin. Your hands cup either side of his face, and you lean forward to kiss the spot where the tear had left a small trail right below his eye.

“In some ways, it’s like I know him now,” you murmur against Din’s cheekbone. “Because I know you. I can feel it — the pieces of you that will be part of him forever. I would love him too. I already do.”

He whispers your name again and again, and each time, it’s like he’s making a wish on a star.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” you whisper, kissing his lips sweetly.

When you draw backward against your pillow, he latches onto your mouth once more and kisses you until you’re breathless.

“There aren’t words, ner kar’ta, ” he says quietly, fingers brushing gently over your hair. “Nothing can explain what you mean to me.”

When Din makes love, you can feel nothing else but him — his body, his soul, his heart. Every touch and movement is energized by a deep intention to let you know what he sometimes struggles expressing in words. But you’ve become fluent in him, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt how each kiss translates to: I love you.

Each thrust of his hips means: I want you.

Each ragged moan reveals: I need you.

Each soft caress says: I’d do anything for you.

And each time his forehead meets yours, he declares: I have found my family.

As you both try to catch your breath, he flops back down onto the bed beside you. He hums happily when he feels you hold tight to him, squeezing his middle with your arms and placing a kiss over his heart.

“Good night, Din,” you mumble, yawning as you nuzzle your face against his chest and bury yourself deep beneath the covers.

“Sweet dreams,” he says, pressing his lips into your hair.

You tilt your chin up just slightly, wanting the last image you see before you drift off to be his beautiful face. But his stare is far away, lost in thought once again. You follow his line of sight, beginning at his shining eyes and landing on the collection of drawings hung beside his door. And the pictures that reflect in his glossy irises are the finished portrait of him beside the sketch of you and Grogu displayed proudly in the center.

Someday, you swear to yourself, those images will be more than just pencil scratches on parchment. Someday, your small chosen family will be whole.

When you close your eyes — your head resting over the warm skin of his chest, his heart marching steadily under your cheek — you dream of the day Din and his son finally reunite, with you standing by his side. And even if that’s still a far-off fantasy, you can rest easily knowing two things for sure:

Tomorrow, you’ll wake up wrapped in Din’s arms. And, for as long as you live, neither of you will ever be alone again.

End Note: Thank you to anyone who's read this story. It's been a labor of love for me and I'm especially grateful to readers who left encouraging feedback. As for me, I'll be around. I'm working on another Javi x Reader story (inspired by yet another TS song — off evermore this time). If you haven't read my other one, please check it out! It's called "If I Could Never Give You Peace." Talk soon! Mando’a Glossary: Ner kar’ta = My heart (kar’ta = heart [kah-ROH-ta]; ner = my [nair]) Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum. = I know you forever [nee kar-TILE garh dah-RAH-soom] ⎿ “It's the same word as 'to know,' 'to hold in the heart,' kar'taylir. But you add darasuum, ‘forever,’ and it becomes something rather different.” — Republic Commando: Triple Zero Verd' ika = Little Warrior (affectionately) [vair-DEE-kah]

Please reblog & comment to show your support! I’d love to hear your thoughts!!

Taglist: @sarahjkl82-blog @pedro-pastel @mavendeb @tailormotelkamzoil @unexistant @karkii @hwjdykqueillmjwkqu @httpwale @chiara-cannot-sleep @niiight-dreamerrrr

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pollyestergivens · 2 years

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Christmas at Donner Pass: The Unity Engine Strikes Again

The Miss Clue series is known around here for its shameless copying of HER's old game engine and ND logo, so it should be no surprise that they also decided to switch to Unity. And, like Midnight in Salem before it, Christmas at Donner Pass was repeatedly delayed in production with little to no updates (there wasn't even a trailer before the game was released).

Even though I was ultimately disappointed by the results of HER's move to Unity, I was curious to see how the Miss Clue team would handle the transition. A few years back, they showcased a little demo that looked quite promising, so I held out hope that they might pick up the baton that HER seems to have dropped.

Alas, it was not to be. Though Christmas at Donner Pass boasts a few features that are an improvement over MID's shortcomings, both games are plagued with glitches, tedious dialogue, and lackluster graphics--even though both promised the opposite.

The Good

Many, many people complained about the navigation in MID, so you might be pleased to hear that CDP lets players choose between three different styles: the original point-and-click, full 3D movement, and a sort of hybrid "glide" option (somewhat similar to what MID has).

I personally played the majority of the game in the point-and-click style, but you can easily toggle between the three modes by hitting 1, 2, or 3 on your keyboard.

When using the "full 3D movement" option, you can indeed explore the mansion and landscape quite freely--but sadly, there's just not that much to see or do.

The Meh

Christmas at Donner Pass is set at large mansion nestled in some foggy woods. Almost every room in the house can be explored, but many of them are either sparsely furnished or simply devoid of anything interesting.

Indeed, many times I came upon a piece of paper, a book, or some strange object and thought surely it was important or could at least be examined, but nope. Yet, bizarrely, the game allowed you to examine and pocket several other items that never had any use at all (and seemingly no connection to the plot).

Much like the house, the woods were mostly full of nothing. You can walk pretty far away from the house and "explore" if you like, but I never found anything to make it worth my while. Still, some players might really like having that freedom.

As for the characters and story, it was certainly a unique game, but it mostly left me scratching my head. I will remain spoiler-free, but suffice to say that CDP is about a haunted house. There's certainly a mystery to solve, but I'm not quite sure I managed to do it. Nonetheless, I found myself continuing with the game just to see which wacky twist was coming next.

The Ugly

When I put all the graphics settings to the absolute max and fired up MID for the first time, I was crestfallen. Unfortunately, the results were much the same with CDP. While MID did better with character animations and CDP had the edge on lighting, they both ended up looking worse than their last pre-rendered title.

Presumably, the main benefit of full 3D motion/environments is added immersion. Objects can be freely rotated, cut scenes are much easier to add, and the whole experience can feel more fluid and natural.

Those gorgeous pre-rendered graphics we're all used to are not really possible in real-time 3D unless you have a nice gaming rig and a seriously well-optimized game. Naturally, in order to get around this, games will sacrifice a degree of 3D realism in the name of performance.

Unfortunately, neither of these games really succeeded at making this trade-off. Instead, both suffer from painful bugs AND poorer graphics.

MID doesn't actually allow free movement, but CDP at least took a stab at it. At certain parts of the game, it worked really well and made navigation a breeze (if you're not prone to motion sickness). Other times, it was startlingly unusable. I defaulted to the point-and-click system most of the time, which also had its own share of glitches.

As for the dialogue, I didn't care for all the cut scenes in either game. It feels too much like watching a movie instead of playing as Jane or Nancy, especially when you don't even get to click dialogue options. The vast majority of Jane's lines are automatic throughout the entire game.

As for the graphics, I'm generally very forgiving. I maintain that a good enough story can overcome any aesthetic issues, but I just didn't love the plot of CDP. Even though the graphics were fine in many areas, I didn't know what the characters were talking about half of the time and just generally felt frustrated with the entire experience.

(It's also worth mentioning that--though the developers are working tirelessly to fix bugs--the game crashed on me many times. If you decide to give Christmas at Donner Pass a try, save often.)

Sadly, my hunt for a new ND-like game continues.

#not nd #gamereview #missclue #christmas at donner pass #nd-like games #clue crew

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whereisten · 4 years

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Fish Out of Water

A Chenle fic that’s part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: You work at Neo City Aquarium. One night, you meet a peculiar but pretty boy named Chenle who claims to know you.

Pairing: Merman! Chenle x female reader

Genre: romance, fluff, angst

Warning: none

Word Count: 5.5k

(A/N: hiya! This is a little late and not proofread so I apologize 😭 I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for all of the support for our stories!)

_______

[June 2020]

Your family was well known for their rehabilitation and release program at Neo City Aquarium. Your grandparents founded the aquarium and formed ties with wildlife rehabilitation centers in your hometown to expand their work into rescuing local marine life.

Following your high school graduation and having just turned eighteen, you were finally allowed to participate in dolphin rehabilitation. At the beginning of the summer, you joined your parents on a rescue mission to save a dolphin that'd been stabbed in a failed hunt for its meat.

You were tasked with nursing the dolphin’s wounds with the team of veterinarians and veterinary assistants. Socializing with wildlife animals wasn’t encouraged but you found yourself attached to the dolphin. You got to swim him when the rehab staff wanted to check his energy levels and confirm he was near his re-release into the ocean. You named him Happy for his smile and he was affection towards you whenever you fed him fish. Naming him Happy was a secret you shared only with him.

“Are you excited for your first dolphin release?” Hendery asked.

Joining Hendery, you entered into the dolphin pen at the beach, where Happy and three more dolphins were waiting to be released. Hendery was a college student who was interning with the rehab team.

You nodded. “Yes.” You were about to cry.

Hendery’s smiled faded. “What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t wipe your eyes because you’d been immersed in saltwater. You weren’t about to miss this release because you got salt in your eye. “Nothing. It’s just...I’m going to miss him.”

Hendery laughed. “I get it. My first release was emotional. Lucas, an intern from last year, had to hold me while I sobbed, begging the dolphins to come back and visit.”

You sniffled and smiled. “That’s so sweet.”

Hendery put a hand on your shoulder. “You’re okay. Happy is eternally grateful to you.”

“Yeah...I- Wait, how did you know I named him-”

“Your voice carries,” Hendery teased.

You splashed him. “Did you tell anyone?”

Hendery shook his head. “Don’t be embarrassed. I named these guys: Jisung, Sungchan, and Shotaro.”

“Those are human names!” You gasped.

Hendery raised an eyebrow. “Of all the names you could give a majestic dolphin...You named him Happy?”

“Okay, fine. To each their own.” You shrugged him off.

You were in charge of opening the pen that would grant the dolphins their freedom. These releases were so important because these animals were wild, meant to be free to explore the ocean to their hearts’ content. Because of global warming, people’s constant neglect for the environment, and animal cruelty, animals like Happy were negatively affected. Your family’s mission was to educate and rehabilitate. You planned to carry this mission on because the environment’s troubles weren’t going to go away for a long time, you were sad to say.

Releasing the dolphins meant that they would get a second chance to live freely and happily. You hoped no one and nothing would hurt them again.

As much as it pained you to say goodbye to these patients...They weren’t patients anymore.

“Okay, guys,” you addressed the dolphins, “It’s time to go home.”

You opened the pen and the dolphins quickly rushed out. They jumped into the air and whistled.

Happy was the only one who lingered and looked at you.

“Go on, Happy!” You encouraged him. Your tears fell but you were ecstatic. This was such a fulfilling moment.

Happy dove beneath the surface and joined the rest of the dolphins into the deep ocean.

_______

[July 2020]

When you weren’t at the rehab center, you worked at the aquarium as a tour guide. You were giving a tour for the governor and his family. Your family hoped to get more government funding for the aquarium so you could expand the rehabilitation center.

The kids were so wide-eyed and happy to be at the aquarium, seeing the fishes of all kinds of colors and the whale shark that loomed overhead.

The governor was hosting a private party at the aquarium tonight. The Neo City Aquarium boasted monthly sleepovers for anyone who wanted to sleep with the fishes...

Literally, not figuratively.

The children ran around while the adults mingled at the buffet area that was set up for their party. You helped run the event with your parents. Your mom was helping out with the caterers. Your dad was schmoozing with the state’s elite.

You took a break and walked through the underwater tunnel. You stole some champagne from the party and sipped it lightly.

Someone tapped you on the shoulder and you almost spilled your champagne on the floor. “Agh!”

You turned around and found a boy who grinned from ear to ear. Donning a cerulean tux, he was handsome. He had soulful brown eyes, a boyish smile, an unforgettable eye smile, and his soft, straight brown hair that nearly reached his eyes. He couldn’t have been much older than you.

“C-can I help you?” You winced, feeling like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t have.

“Y/n, it’s me!” The boy said enthusiastically. He couldn’t believe he was here with you.

You frowned. “I’m sorry...I don’t…”

His smile faded but it returned full force as he tried to convince you. “It’s me, Happy!”

“Huh?” You tilted your head in confusion. “How do you know about Happy?”

He said it slowly, “I am Happy…”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that...If you’ll excuse me…” You weren’t getting anywhere with this guy, even if he was your type from a physical standpoint.

He lightly touched your arm. “You saved a dolphin off of the Nakamoto Coast two months ago…”

Now you were listening.

He let you go and explained. “I know that this is going to sound crazy but I was the one you saved that day.”

You furrowed your brows. “What are you talking about…”

“The dolphin you saved has a scar on his underside. It’s shaped like a lightning bolt, almost…” He raised his shirt to reveal his lower abdomen. “Like this…”

It was shaped exactly like Happy’s scar. You dropped your champagne flute. It was a good thing it was made out of reusable plastic. “I…”

He offered you his hand. “Please come with me.”

“Where?” You hesitated.

“To the beach,” he said, “I want to prove to you that I’m not lying.”

You shot him a look. “You better not be. If Hendery put you up to this…”

“You can tell him that Jisung, Sungchan, and Shotaro send their love...I’ve met them in my travels. They liked their human given names so much that they kept them,” he said.

How the hell did he know about those three dolphins?

Now you were curious.

You’d excused yourself from the party. Your mom was thrilled because she thought you finally landed a boyfriend at the ripe old age of eighteen. Like you didn’t have the rest of your life to find a partner. That’s even if you needed one.

The aquarium was located right on the beach so you didn’t have to walk very far. You took off your heels and held the pair on your left hand. Chenle took off his blue dress shoes and did the same. His look had been one color, matching the deepest ocean blue.

You’d reached the shore, where the water reached your toes. “You’re gonna try and drown me here, aren’t you?”

He laughed. “Are you kidding? You are the last person I would drown.”

Did that mean he was capable of drowning people? You laughed nervously. “Thanks?”

He wasted no time and ran into the water with his suit on. You started. “Wait, dude, what are you-”

The water began to glow a bright aqua green. You squint your eyes to see where the boy had gone. The light faded quickly and instead you saw a dolphin tail break the surface.

The boy who brought you here had just turned into a dolphin.

He was telling the truth: he was Happy.

You put a hand over your mouth and simply watched. He jumped into the air and made clicking noises.

“Happy?!” You exclaimed.

Once again, the beam of light appeared. It was brighter that you had to shield your eyes. Happy was gone and the boy’s upper body reappeared.

Along with an aqua green fish tail.

“I...I…” You started.

He made his way back onto shore and regained his nightwear as a human. He was back on two legs again. “I know you named me Happy...It’s a nickname I’ll always treasure in my heart. But my name is Chenle,” the boy said...

Excuse you, the merman said.

“You’re...you’re a merman…” You said.

“Yes…”

“But...you’re also a dolphin…” Your head was about to explode.

“I can transform into any aquatic being...Well, except for clownfish...I can never get the right shade of orange for them…” He started.

You shook your head. “If you were a merman...then why didn’t you transform back...all the time you were here?”

You started remembering just how much you’d told Happy...Chenle...about your life, your aspirations, about how some of your friends were moving away for college, and how you hoped you wouldn’t let your family down…You even made goofy faces at this guy.

You turned away from him in embarrassment.

Chenle continued. “The attack severely injured me...Had it not been for you and your family…I would’ve perished. I did not have the strength to transform back until you released me.”

“Oh…” You said.

He smiled. “I can’t thank you enough. You saved my life.”

You shook your head. “Oh, I didn’t do anything. The doctors and the rehab staff did everything.”

“But you were with me,” he said as he laced his fingers against yours without you realizing it. “You were the one who cared the most. The one whose face hasn’t left my mind since I was released…”

Your face felt warm. “Well, I…”

This was crazy. First, Happy was a dolphin. Then, Happy was a man. And THEN, Happy was a merman.

Someone must have laced your champagne with something. You passed out from the shock of it all.

“Y/n!” Chenle yelled as he caught you from hitting the sand.

A few minutes later, you felt like you’d awoken from a deep, uncomfortable slumber. You felt yourself wrapped in the arms of someone strong, warm…

Wet.

Your eyes opened and you found yourself in the water. What the-

“You’re awake! Thank Poseidon!” Chenle said as his arms were wrapped around you. He looked down at you, drops of water falling off of his slicked back hair. He looked absolutely glorious under the moonlight.

“Chenle, what are you-” You started as you shrugged yourself off of him.

Chenle shushed you. “Y/n, take it easy. I used some of my healing magic to help you wake up…”

“Healing magic?” You asked.

Chenle nodded. “Yes.”

You looked at him carefully. “I can’t believe you’re real…”

He sighed. “Really? You still don’t believe me…”

“No, I believe you...It’s just…A lot for me to process.” You said.

You still wondered if you were losing your mind.

You and Chenle talked for hours that night. He actually used magic to dry you and your dress. He was able to walk on land because of the full moon. That was why it took him a month to come see you and explain himself.

Chenle was the prince of the underwater kingdom, Atlantis. The mythical kingdom had proven to be real. Chenle told you all about it. How his parents ruled the seven seas in harmony. The merpeople had all sorts of abilities. They can transform into other marine life. They can heal. They can control the weather. They can manipulate water.

It was during the full moon every month that merfolk had the opportunity to walk on land to understand humans and their lifestyle. Chenle turned eighteen last year so he’d explored the human world a couple of times already. He was able to learn how to walk after the first couple of visits, apparently.

It was his first time visiting your hometown after being rescued. He’d only wanted to see you because you’d been so kind to him. He knew everything about you and he’d fallen in love. He couldn’t wait to see you again.

“So you’re a prince…” You started.

“Yes…” He answered.

“Then how come your...royal subjects didn’t come and find you?” You asked.

Chenle chuckled. “Actually, they watched me from afar…”

“What? Really?”

Now that you thought about it...You remembered pods of dolphins close to the shore the entire month Chenle had been at the rehab center.

“Yes...And they were relieved to see that I was in good hands. The entire kingdom wishes to invite your team down to the palace to bestow medals of honor to each of you.”

“Wow,” you said, “That’s...incredible...Too bad, we can’t breathe underwater or else I’d be the first to join you.”

He hesitated before he asked you the next question. “Actually...If you did wish to see Atlantis...I could make that happen.”

You gasped. “What?!”

He laughed. “Yes. So long as I’m in saltwater, I can use my magic.”

“I’ve noticed…” You said.

“y/n!” Your father called out to you.

Apparently, he’d been kept out of the loop about your “date”.

“Dad!” You started as you got up from the sand.

“Who is this boy?” He demanded as he walked over to you guys with his loafers still on.

Shocked at your father’s hostility, you said, “Dad! It’s Ha-”

You turned to Chenle and he raised his eyebrows.

“This is Chenle, my-”

Chenle continued, “I’m her friend from school.” He got up from the sand and stood beside you. His demeanor changed then. “It is nice to meet you, sir.” He extended his hand out and gave your father a firm handshake.

Chenle acted like he’d been fully employed with an MBA and a six-figure salary. That must’ve been his prince personality coming out.

Your dad was taken aback by how confident Chenle had been. “It’s nice to meet you, too...May I ask why you and my daughter are out here so late?”

Chenle continued, “I apologize, sir. I hadn’t seen her in a month...And I missed her so I came to see her.” He looked at you then, a meaningful look on his face. You knew he was being honest and you felt your heart sway, then.

Your father cleared his throat. “Well, that’s very nice of you, Chenle but...it’s 2 in the morning...It’s time you called it a night, you two.”

You both looked at each other then, disappointed. It wasn’t like you could call Chenle up on his phone. You wondered if technology could factor into Atlantis...Or if they even needed it. You doubted it.

“Okay, dad,” you said, “Do you mind?” You motioned for him to leave you and Chenle for a few minutes.

Your dad shot you a look, feeling quite overprotective of his only child. He relented when you gave him the same unwavering look. “Alright. Good evening, Chenle.”

Chenle nodded and your dad walked away.

“So much for the trip to Atlantis,” you said as you crossed your arms in disappointment.

“Next time,” Chenle said, smiling down at you, adoring the way you pouted.

_______

[October 2020]

You met Chenle at the beach at nightfall several times since the night you first met at the aquarium. It was your turn to get to know Chenle more since he knew most things about you with you knowing.

He admitted to some embarrassing secrets, like how, during one of the times he visited land, he’d talked to a betta fish in a tank located inside a convenience store and everyone looked at him like he was insane. But what was most embarrassing for him was that he failed to realize that he couldn’t communicate with freshwater fish.

Chenle was courageous and kind. He told you that the reason he turned into a dolphin the day you found him was because he’d gone to help rescue a pod of dolphins from being hunted. In the process, he’d been struck. A Good Samaritan reported his injuries to the rehab center and that was how you met.

Chenle was second in line for the throne for his older brother would soon be crowned king of Atlantis.

Today was the day you would go to Atlantis with Chenle.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

You replied, “I...think so…”

You both held hands as you stood in the water together.

“Trust me,” he said as he winked.

You sighed. Chenle explained and showed his process for helping you breathe underwater.

Chenle had the ability to create an air bubble shaped to your person that surrounded you and kept your oxygen intake high.

In August, you’d tested the air bubble 12 feet under the surface and in September you worked your way up to 1200 feet under the surface.

Each time, it worked seamlessly.

However, you were going thousands of feet underwater so you were freaking out a little. You tried to not show it.

Chenle took your face into his hands. “You’re safe with me.”

You nodded, meeting his beautiful eyes as they glowed the same aqua green from the first night he revealed his true self to you.

You both dived down and Chenle extended his hands out, enveloping you with the clear air bubble.

You were able to maneuver yourself with your legs, like you were the one who swam.

Diving down with Chenle was always an adventure but now that you dove deeper and faster, you saw more of the wildlife and greenery underwater. The ocean was a force to be reckoned with but to you, it was also the most beautiful part of this planet.

Holding Chenle’s hand, he controlled the speed in which you traveled. He wanted to entertain you with the most gorgeous sights the ocean offered. He loved the awe and admiration in your eyes. He wished to always make you happy.

Chenle moved you two faster because your hometown was hundreds of miles away from Atlantis. You two didn’t have a lot of time until sunrise when you needed to get back.

And Chenle would have to retreat. Humans couldn’t know of the merfolk’s existence.

You finally saw it: the kingdom of Atlantis. The buildings stood tall, looking almost like modern-day apartment buildings. The merfolks swam alongside fish and other deep sea creatures. As the people recognized Chenle, a group of armed mermen approached you two.

“Who is this, Your Highness?” One of the armed guards asked.

He continued, “Jaehyun, this is y/n.”

At the sound of your name, all of the guards bowed deeply before you. “y/n, the savior of our prince.”

You put a hand over your mouth. “Oh, no, please don’t do that…”

Chenle laughed. “Alright, let’s go greet my parents.”

“Wait, you parents?!” You exclaimed. Chenle never mentioned meeting his parents.

The guards escorted you to the palace doors. They were heavily guarded by the biggest jellyfish you’d ever seen so no one could break in or break out without getting severely injured. The doors opened and the castle was beyond your wildest dreams. It was translucent and the towers ran high, shaped like icicles. It glowed with a magic of its own with all colors of the rainbow glowing, depending on the angle from which you looked at the structure.

You entered into the palace and into the grand throne room where the king and queen of Atlantis stood. Chenle was the spitting image of his mother. It was in the eyes and the smile.

You bowed. “Your Majesties.”

The queen and king looked at you in adoration.

“We can not express our gratitude enough for saving our son,” the king said.

The queen continued, “Whatever your wish is, we can make it so.”

“Oh,” you said, shaking your head, “That’s okay...In fact, I wasn’t the only one who helped the prince...I don’t deserve anything.”

Chenle looked at you then with so much love and respect. “You deserve the world, y/n.”

You nearly choked. “Chenle...I mean, Your Highness, I-”

Another young man entered the throne room and greeted Chenle by rubbing the crown of his head. “Little brother, you’ve brought a girl home to mummy!”

“Kun, gah, knock it off!” Chenle asked as he pulled himself off of his brother.

Kun resembled his father more but he was also handsome. You realized he was the crown prince and bowed. “Your Highness.”

“Y/n, it is an honor to finally meet you. I’m amazed that the wedding festivities haven’t begun.”

“Wedding?!” You asked and shut your mouth, thinking you spoke out of turn.

Kun and his parents laughed. Chenle sighed. “You’ll have to excuse Kun. He has a flair for the dramatic.”

Once you finished your time with the royal family, Chenle took you to the highest point in the castle. You two looked over the palace. You could see the darkness of the deep blue sea that laid beyond.

“Chenle, this is nothing at all like I imagined it. It’s...a dream,” you said.

Chenle held your hand. “You’re a dream, y/n.” He took it and kissed it.

_______

[December 2020]

You haven't seen Chenle since your visit to the kingdom. Every night that you could visit him, he was never there. You started to wonder if something had happened to him.

You even started to wonder if you’d dreamed his existence this whole time. You cried to sleep some nights, missing him. Longing to see him again.

It was New Year’s morning a few hours before daybreak that you sat alone on the beach, resolute that this would be the last time you would wait for him.

That was when he appeared.

“y/n…” He started.

“Chenle, what happened?” You asked. “I thought you-” You broke down in tears on the shoreline.

It wasn’t a full moon that night so he couldn’t run up to you and hold you like he’d wanted to do since last he saw you.

“y/n...Kun… he died,” Chenle said, trying to fight back his tears. As he was not the crown prince, he had an image to maintain of being strong for his subjects. Strong for his parents.

But with you, he broke down. Hard. Kun died during his travels along the eastern continent. He’d been intoxicated from an oil spill. His body was recovered by the royal guards and he’d had a royal funeral. The kingdom has been in mourning since then.

You didn’t care if you got soaked. You ran into the water and held him. You cried with him. Because of the negligence of your people, marine life suffered. That always pained you but to see it hit so close to home now, you were livid.

You held each other for as long as you could. Daybreak would occur anytime now but you imagined that most people would be at home asleep, nursing hangovers or recovering from being up all hours of the night. You wanted to be with Chenle for as long as you could help it.

“Chenle...what does this mean for you?” You asked.

He sighed. “I am the crown prince and...y/n...I will be wed.”

You pulled yourself away from Chenle’s embrace. “What?”

“It is the custom of my people. My parents are stepping down from the throne. As the crown prince, I must get married and produce a royal heir.”

You put a hand over your mouth. Marriage and a baby? You’d only finished your first semester of college. Chenle was on his way to becoming a king, a husband, and a father.

Now, you had to shove down your growing feelings for Chenle. Because you’d fallen hard. And now this was the sign you needed to know that you two had been from completely different worlds. It would never have worked out.

So you swallowed your pride and said, “I understand...You came to say goodbye.”

Chenle’s eyes widened. “What? Goodbye?”

Your eyes become glassy. You tried so hard to keep yourself from crying. “You’re spoken for...And I’m sure your wife will not be keen on you coming up to see a human woman…”

“y/n-” Chenle began as he tried to hold you again.

You moved away from him. “Don’t. Please.”

Chenle put his arms down and looked at how defeated you looked. He wanted nothing more than to make you his wife. You would’ve been his first choice in the long run but now that Kun had passed, he was crown prince and with that position, there were responsibilities.

He had originally planned to wait until you were both older to ask for your hand in marriage and try to convince you to live with him in the palace...Somehow...But he knew that you belonged to the land...He could never ask that of you. So he kept his dreams to himself. He simply enjoyed being in the moment with you.

But, you were right, he realized. He couldn’t be with you like this anymore.

Chenle cried before you. “I’m so sorry, y/n...I love you.”

You froze. “What?”

“I’ve loved you since the moment you made that dolphin noise…” You both remembered your first days together, when Chenle had been Happy the dolphin. You were playing around with the other interns and you tried to make a dolphin noise to get Happy’s attention. Everyone laughed at your impersonation and you covered your face in embarrassment. Chenle thought you were adorable.

“Chenle, I love you, too,” you said. You started falling for him the day he appeared to you at the aquarium. But you fell for him when he showed you the ocean, told you his stories, and made you laugh. You both showed each other the best of your worlds and you hated that this was how you would part.

Chenle held your face and you wrapped your arms around him. You kissed each other for the longest time before you bade each other farewell.

_______

[July 2036]

It was moonrise. The sun had just set and night had fallen. You walked hand in hand with your four year old son. You walked along the shore you’d ingrained into your memory. The shore where you met with Chenle so many times. You hadn’t seen him since your last farewell so this beach once again became a happier place to be.

“Mommy! Mermaid! Mermaid!” Your son pointed out to the ocean.

“Sweetie, that’s probably a dolphin,” you said as you looked out into the water and recognized an aqua green fish tail.

Your heart nearly stopped.

Chenle, older and more handsome, swam closer to the shore and watched you. You looked just as beautiful as he’d met you. You had a more determined and confident look in your eyes. You become who you were meant to be. He could see it.

“Mommy, that’s a mermaid!” Your son said.

“Chenle,” you started.

Chenle walked out of the water, now in his human form.

“Wow!” Your son exclaimed.

“Just like your mother,” Chenle said to your son as he knelt down to greet him. “What’s your name?”

“Finn,” he said.

“Hi, Finn. My name is Chenle.”

“Hi, Chenle!” Finn said.

Chenle got up and met your shocked expression with his radiant smile. “It’s been a long time.”

You nodded. “It has.”

“Have you been well?” He asked.

You nodded. “Have you?”

“Yes,” he said, “Shall we sit?”

You and Chenle sat together with Finn playing right beside you. Chenle told you he’d married the daughter of one of the family’s royal advisers. She’d never loved Chenle either. They both entered the marriage as partners for the sake of the kingdom. They produced seven heirs, seven daughters.

Chenle’s wife had a lover, a man she’d loved since before she’d married. She’d told Chenle about him. Chenle also took on a couple of lovers over the years but you were all he thought about.

You’d done what you set out to do. You graduated college with a degree in marine biology. You went to veterinary school and graduated with high honors. Now, you were the leading veterinarian at Neo City Aquarium’s Rehabilitation Center. You’d met your husband Jeno through a mutual friend. You two hit it off, dated for three years, got married, and had Finn.

Chenle surprised you with the news that the condition of the ocean had improved in the years since you’d met. It was because of generous people like you who advocated for the respect of the seas that Chenle and his people could help their kingdom thrive. The temperature of the ocean overall had improved and oil spills and pollution were the lowest they’d ever been.

You two were happy in certain ways. But it pained Chenle to see you’d been happy with another man. A part of him that he hated so much wished you’d waited for him. It was a selfish desire but he couldn’t help it.

You knew from long ago that waiting for Chenle was a dream that you could never entertain so you pushed forward with your ambitions. You wanted to do what you could to protect the ocean. You loved it as much as Chenle had. It showed in your work with marine life and in your advocacy to combat climate change.

“Mommy, where is Daddy?” Finn asked.

You remembered that Jeno would be here at any moment. You checked your texts and Jeno told you he’d pick you and Finn up in ten minutes.

“Ten minutes, sweetie. That’s soon. Let’s get ready to go,” you said. You looked at Chenle’s eyes. You knew this was another farewell. Even if it was less devastating than the first. Both of you still harbored a little bit of pain over what could’ve been.

“Goodbye, y/n.”

“Goodbye, Chenle.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy,” he said.

“I’m happy that you’re happy,” you echoed.

He gave you a beautiful, polished conch shell. “Perhaps you can make a necklace out of it. I want you to have it. It’s a gift from my parents and I.”

It was a beautiful shade of cream with traces of pink. “Thank you.”

Giving you one last longing look, Chenle got back into the water and smiled at you before he dove into the water again. A tear escaped your eye but you quickly wiped it away.

[July 2076]

Your children had their own children now. You and Jeno had divorced when Finn was 19, Dylan was 17, and Kai was 14. You split on amicable terms. You simply fell out of love with each other. Jeno could always tell you couldn’t get over your first love. No matter how hard you tried.

What gave you joy was your children. And like you, they’d all been invested in the aquarium and the center. They kept the legacy on.

Your daughter Kai had gotten married today at the beach. Everyone was celebrating on the makeshift dance floor on the sand. You stood at the shoreline alone, feeling the water hit your toes. You enjoyed the sensation every time.

You saw his aqua green tail. You couldn’t believe it. You must’ve been seeing things. You’d recently retired. You were as bright and alert as that of a healthy fifty year old’s but perhaps your eyes were now deceiving you. You had been in your seventies, after all.

Chenle, as gray as you were but as handsome as he’d been the first time you saw him, beamed at you.

You told your kids about Chenle. Finn remembered meeting him. Your eldest son knew it wasn’t in his imagination so he begged you to tell him about Chenle, Atlantis, and the ocean. Kai and Dylan had also been curious. Now your three children watched as you met eyes with Chenle.

Your three kids walked over to you. Kai put her hand on your shoulder. “Mom...go be with him. We support you.”

“But Kai...Your babies…” You started. You didn’t want to leave your children so abruptly. Even if they were older now and independent, you wanted to be there for them in whatever they needed.

“My daughter is my first and last, I promise you that. You promise to come visit, right?” Kai laughed. She’d had her daughter with another man a few years before her marriage today. She’d named her daughter after you.

Dylan started, “Mom...You’ve given us so much love and support...We want you to go after what you want. Who you want.”

You fought back a sob and hugged your children. “I love you three. You are the loves of my life.”

“We love you, too,” Dylan said, wiping his tears with his jacket sleeve.

Finn waved at Chenle. “Hi, Chenle! I knew you were real!”

Chenle laughed. “Hi, Finn!”

You hugged your children tightly and walked into the water. Chenle had his arms wide open for you and enveloped yourself into his embrace. With his magic, you became a mermaid. You sported a radiant fuchsia tail. You both waved to your children before you dived deep into what always felt like home.

[Fin]

Come back tomorrow for another spooky story...

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