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that-spider-witch · 3 years

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On the topic of Book!Edward Hyde

Or rather: The topic of his existence (or lack thereof).

Browsing through the J&H tag, I’ve seen a lot of book readers be spiteful of every single adaptation of the character and its pop culture version because it misses the moral of the book: That Hyde and Jekyll were just one and the same, and that Jekyll was the one doing all the bullshit that went down and that Hyde was just a mask to keep his reputation intact.

Most of these rants go on to imply or outright accuse of any author doing the split personality take on the plot to have never actually read the original book, or that Edward Hyde never existing is something that the book leaves loud and clear, something irrefutably canon.

Having read the book too, I’m here to say: Yes and no. You could read the book and still get a “two character, one body” impression from it. Allow me to explain...

While the plot of “Jekyll is Good, Hyde is Bad” is truly bullshit and the very thing that the original novel rips into pieces, whether Hyde could be considered to have a will of his own is a little more ambiguous and it can actually be interpreted either way.

Note that I’m using the word “will” and not “personality”: Hyde is still Jekyll, they both have the same personality, but while Jekyll is a rational human being, Hyde is Jekyll but without the strings of societal norms, morals and impulse control holding him down.

Book readers who go by the take that Hyde never existed also claim that the book is very clear that the changes brought by the formula are just external: Jekyll is completely himself the whole time and “Hyde” is just a mask.

And this is true... At first. Depending on how you interpret Jekyll’s unrealiable narration, “Hyde” actually slowly develops something of a will of his own as Jekyll’s evil nature, given a body of its own by his dumb experiment, continues to develop.

Here’s a fragment of how Jekyll describes the experiment and the very first transformation:

“That night I had come to the fatal cross-roads. Had I approached my discovery in a more noble spirit, had I risked the experiment while under the empire of generous or pious aspirations, all must have been otherwise, and from these agonies of death and birth, I had come forth an angel instead of a fiend. The drug had no discriminating action; it was neither diabolical nor divine; it but shook the doors of the prisonhouse of my disposition; and like the captives of Philippi, that which stood within ran forth. At that time my virtue slumbered; my evil, kept awake by ambition, was alert and swift to seize the occasion; and the thing that was projected was Edward Hyde. Hence, although I had now two characters as well as two appearances, one was wholly evil, and the other was still the old Henry Jekyll, that incongruous compound of whose reformation and improvement I had already learned to despair. The movement was thus wholly toward the worse.”

“Edward Hyde” (who at this point still doesn’t truly exist as his own being and it’s just a mask for Jekyll to use) is evil because Henry Jekyll himself is evil. But while Jekyll-as-Jekyll has good personality traits as well as bad, Jekyll-as-Hyde is just everything that Jeyll finds evil about himself and nothing else. This paragraph also states very clearly that Jekyll’s intentions were never good.

If this was the only instance in which anything along the lines of “two characters as well as two appearances” was mentioned, then yes, there would be no room for debate on the whole “Hyde is just a fake identity and nothing else” because there wouldn’t be evidence of the contrary. It would be clear text.

Except that Jekyll, unreliable narrator that he is or not, also gives us evidence to support the theory that Hyde, while still not being a completely separate split personality on his own right, does develop a certain awareness of himself and a will to act somewhat separate from Jekyll’s.

Of course, this all still falls on Jekyll’s own fault, and even if we consider Hyde as something of an alter, he’s still nothing but the scapegoat that Jekyll uses:

“The pleasures which I made haste to seek in my disguise were, as I have said, undignified; I would scarce use a harder term. But in the hands of Edward Hyde, they soon began to turn toward the monstrous. When I would come back from these excursions, I was often plunged into a kind of wonder at my vicarious depravity. This familiar that I called out of my own soul, and sent forth alone to do his good pleasure, was a being inherently malign and villainous; his every act and thought centered on self; drinking pleasure with bestial avidity from any degree of torture to another; relentless like a man of stone. Henry Jekyll stood at times aghast before the acts of Edward Hyde; but the situation was apart from ordinary laws, and insidiously relaxed the grasp of conscience. It was Hyde, after all, and Hyde alone, that was guilty. Jekyll was no worse; he woke again to his good qualities seemingly unimpaired; he would even make haste, where it was possible, to undo the evil done by Hyde. And thus his conscience slumbered.”

Something all book readers will be familiar with is that Jekyll’s narration uses “I” when writing about most of Hyde’s actions, while also mentioning both Henry Jekyll and Hyde on third person. Jekyll tries to dissociate himself from his crimes this way.

But... Whether also done by Jekyll to still reflect guilt from himself or not, the text also refers to Hyde as having a nature of his own, albeit one irreversably connected to Henry Jekyll’s own hidden desires.

“Between these two, I now felt I had to choose. My two natures had memory in common, but all other faculties were most unequally shared between them. Jekyll (who was composite) now with the most sensitive apprehensions, now with a greedy gusto, projected and shared in the pleasures and adventures of Hyde; but Hyde was indifferent to Jekyll, or but remembered him as the mountain bandit remembers the cavern in which he conceals himself from pursuit. Jekyll had more than a father’s interest; Hyde had more than a son’s indifference. To cast in my lot with Jekyll, was to die to those appetites which I had long secretly indulged and had of late begun to pamper. To cast it in with Hyde, was to die to a thousand interests and aspirations, and to become, at a blow and forever, despised and friendless. The bargain might appear unequal; but there was still another consideration in the scales; for while Jekyll would suffer smartingly in the fires of abstinence, Hyde would be not even conscious of all that he had lost. Strange as my circumstances were, the terms of this debate are as old and commonplace as man; much the same inducements and alarms cast the die for any tempted and trembling sinner; and it fell out with me, as it falls with so vast a majority of my fellows, that I chose the better part and was found wanting in the strength to keep to it.”

There’s a clear divide here, with Jekyll and Hyde having something of a different outlook on life, something that outright doesn’t make sense if we are to consider Edward Hyde as just Jekyll’s alias.

Something to note here is that the divide between the two personas is not of a moral nature, but something much more mundane and selfish: To Henry Jekyll, his social status is everything, and his main drive to keep transforming into Hyde again and again is to enjoy a life of sin without repercussions. To Hyde, said social status can go to hell for all he cares, but still keeps the ruse because his concealment is ultimately necessary for his continued existence, something that the narration will go back to later.

After this point of the book, which is when Jekyll goes to sleep and wakes up transformed on his other body the next morning, the doctor becomes scared and goes cold turkey for two months, having decided to stop being Hyde forever and return to a normal life. It doesn’t lastlonger than that: Hyde returns not because he takes control, but because Jekyll turns himself into Hyde on purpose once again, by his own free will.

“I do not suppose that, when a drunkard reasons with himself upon his vice, he is once out of five hundred times affected by the dangers that he runs through his brutish, physical insensibility; neither had I, long as I had considered my position, made enough allowance for the complete moral insensibility and insensate readiness to evil, which were the leading characters of Edward Hyde. Yet it was by these that I was punished. My devil had been long caged, he came out roaring. I was conscious, even when I took the draught, of a more unbridled, a more furious propensity to ill. It must have been this, I suppose, that stirred in my soul that tempest of impatience with which I listened to the civilities of my unhappy victim; I declare, at least, before God, no man morally sane could have been guilty of that crime upon so pitiful a provocation; and that I struck in no more reasonable spirit than that in which a sick child may break a plaything. But I had voluntarily stripped myself of all those balancing instincts by which even the worst of us continues to walk with some degree of steadiness among temptations; and in my case, to be tempted, however slightly, was to fall.“

Something fun to note here: Jekyll describes Hyde, and/or himself when he’s Hyde, as being comparable to a child. First by merely noting that Hyde’s body is younger than Jekyll’s, then by comparing him to a “son” and Jekyll as the “father”, and now comparing the murder of Danvers Carew to a child breaking a toy.

Speaking of the murder, Jekyll is 100% guilty of it: Even if Hyde was a completely different being with his own traits and goals, which he is not, Jekyll would still be responsable by virtue of willingly going through the transformation again like an idiot.

That being said, the text continues to give Hyde some semblance of personality:

“Hyde had a song upon his lips as he compounded the draught, and as he drank it, pledged the dead man. The pangs of transformation had not done tearing him, before Henry Jekyll, with streaming tears of gratitude and remorse, had fallen upon his knees and lifted his clasped hands to God. The veil of self-indulgence was rent from head to foot.“

From this point on, everything goes to hell: Henry Jekyll is relieved that now that Hyde is a wanted murderer, he now has no choice but to stay as Jekyll and leave that sinful double life of his finally behind (”Jekyll is the Good half” my ass!). But, surprise surprise! He starts to transform unwillingly, and now he needs to constantly drink the potion to stay as Jekyll.

Fun fact: Do you remember which thoughts are the ones that trigger the first unwilling transformation after the murder?

“I sat in the sun on a bench; the animal within me licking the chops of memory; the spiritual side a little drowsed, promising subsequent penitence, but not yet moved to begin. After all, I reflected, I was like my neighbours; and then I smiled, comparing myself with other men, comparing my active good-will with the lazy cruelty of their neglect. And at the very moment of that vainglorious thought, a qualm came over me, a horrid nausea and the most deadly shuddering. These passed away, and left me faint; and then as in its turn faintness subsided, I began to be aware of a change in the temper of my thoughts, a greater boldness, a contempt of danger, a solution of the bonds of obligation. I looked down; my clothes hung formlessly on my shrunken limbs; the hand that lay on my knee was corded and hairy. I was once more Edward Hyde.“

The thought that he, too, was just like any other man. Something that his Hyde half knows as a fact, but that Henry “I’m superior than all these lazy peasants around me because I’m rich... I mean, because I have active good-will” Jekyll considers undignified, and therefore, cruel or evil. O Sweet, sweet Victorian hypocresy.

And it is from here on out that the narration acknowledges Edward Hyde as being his own character somewhat, somehow, at least as part of Jekyll’s conciousness.

After the transformation and the visit to Lanyon:

“My reason wavered, but it did not fail me utterly. I have more than once observed that in my second character, my faculties seemed sharpened to a point and my spirits more tensely elastic; thus it came about that, where Jekyll perhaps might have succumbed, Hyde rose to the importance of the moment.”

“Then I remembered that of my original character, one part remained to me: I could write my own hand; and once I had conceived that kindling spark, the way that I must follow became lighted up from end to end.“

“He, I say—I cannot say, I. That child of Hell had nothing human; nothing lived in him but fear and hatred.“

“When I came to myself at Lanyon’s, the horror of my old friend perhaps affected me somewhat: I do not know; it was at least but a drop in the sea to the abhorrence with which I looked back upon these hours. A change had come over me. It was no longer the fear of the gallows, it was the horror of being Hyde that racked me.“

It’s curious how Jekyll’s narration uses “I” when looking back at Carew’s murder, and yet it is just from here on out that he’s oh so repulsed by Hyde than he uses He/Him pronouns for him.

And, most of all, when he has locked himself up:

“The powers of Hyde seemed to have grown with the sickliness of Jekyll. And certainly the hate that now divided them was equal on each side. With Jekyll, it was a thing of vital instinct. He had now seen the full deformity of that creature that shared with him some of the phenomena of consciousness, and was co-heir with him to death: and beyond these links of community, which in themselves made the most poignant part of his distress, he thought of Hyde, for all his energy of life, as of something not only hellish but inorganic. This was the shocking thing; that the slime of the pit seemed to utter cries and voices; that the amorphous dust gesticulated and sinned; that what was dead, and had no shape, should usurp the offices of life. And this again, that that insurgent horror was knit to him closer than a wife, closer than an eye; lay caged in his flesh, where he heard it mutter and felt it struggle to be born; and at every hour of weakness, and in the confidence of slumber, prevailed against him, and deposed him out of life. The hatred of Hyde for Jekyll was of a different order. His terror of the gallows drove him continually to commit temporary suicide, and return to his subordinate station of a part instead of a person; but he loathed the necessity, he loathed the despondency into which Jekyll was now fallen, and he resented the dislike with which he was himself regarded.”

And what immediately follows is my favorite part of the book:

“Hence the ape-like tricks that he would play me, scrawling in my own hand blasphemies on the pages of my books, burning the letters and destroying the portrait of my father; and indeed, had it not been for his fear of death, he would long ago have ruined himself in order to involve me in the ruin. But his love of life is wonderful; I go further: I, who sicken and freeze at the mere thought of him, when I recall the abjection and passion of this attachment, and when I know how he fears my power to cut him off by suicide, I find it in my heart to pity him.”

This petty behavior of supposedly destroying and vandalizing Jekyll’s stuff to spite him is mentioned yet again just a few sentences later,along with the following line:

“This, then, is the last time, short of a miracle, that Henry Jekyll can think his own thoughts or see his own face (now how sadly altered!) in the glass. Nor must I delay too long to bring my writing to an end; for if my narrative has hitherto escaped destruction, it has been by a combination of great prudence and great good luck. Should the throes of change take me in the act of writing it, Hyde will tear it in pieces; but if some time shall have elapsed after I have laid it by, his wonderful selfishness and circumscription to the moment will probably save it once again from the action of his ape-like spite.“

This assertion from Jekyll that, as far as he’s concerned, he will be already dead when he transforms for the last time, is what closes the book:

“And indeed the doom that is closing on us both has already changed and crushed him. Half an hour from now, when I shall again and forever reindue that hated personality, I know how I shall sit shuddering and weeping in my chair, or continue, with the most strained and fearstruck ecstasy of listening, to pace up and down this room (my last earthly refuge) and give ear to every sound of menace. Will Hyde die upon the scaffold? or will he find courage to release himself at the last moment? God knows; I am careless; this is my true hour of death, and what is to follow concerns another than myself. Here then, as I lay down the pen and proceed to seal up my confession, I bring the life of that unhappy Henry Jekyll to an end.“

If taken at face value, these lines actually paint Edward Hyde as being somewhat able to think his own thoughts and do his own actions, while still just being the childish, “ape-like” part of Henry Jekyll’s mind. Emphasis on childish, not evil, the evilness is all on Henry. Edward Hyde is still nothing but Henry Jekyll’s psychological scapegoat, and the one that Jekyll technically leaves behind to deal with the mess he himself created by “dying”.

I’m not trying to get more people to interpret the book this way nor am I saying that the ”Hyde is not real and Jekyll is a lying bitch” take is actually wrong, because it is not. I’m just pointing out the book could actually be interpreted differently by different readers, and they’d still have sentences in the book to back their interpretation on.

Now, if we could all stop hating and throwing shade on every content creator out there who “got the book wrong”, that’d be peachy.

#let people have fun. its not that hard.#the strange case of dr. jekyll and mr. hyde #edward hyde #henry jekyll #dr. jekyll and mr. hyde #literature #gothic lit #this came out longer than I thought it would be

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dessarious · 4 years

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The Angel of Death Pt41

Inspired by this Story Starter by @someone-ev

AO3 Prologue Beginning Previous Next

Tris felt her eye twitch as Adrien and Luka collided mid air… again. Chloe was off to the side laughing while Kagami was fighting a smile. None of them were taking this seriously enough. Telling them their lives were in danger only went so far. None of them really felt the fear they needed to. It had been over a week since she started training with and without the Miraculous. Even though there was no hope of any of them surviving against the most junior member of the League without she was hoping it would help while they were transformed. At this point the only reason they’d survive is because the Miraculous made it near impossible to be hurt by normal weapons. The biggest thing she worried about was explosives. The Kwami hadn’t dealt with them enough to know what the suit’s threshold would be. She’d also had them turn all the miraculous into toe rings since it was the least obvious and hardest place to get to while they were transformed.

“You’re not even trying anymore, we’re done for the night.” She tried to keep her temper in check and not let them see how frustrated she was getting but it was difficult. Telling herself they were civilians and couldn’t grasp the danger they were in only went so far before she felt like she was about to explode.

“Oh come on, we’re just messing around.” She had to take a deep breath in order not to yell at Adrien. He didn’t know any better.

“That’s entirely my point. The Miraculous aren’t toys and there’s no point straining the Kwami so you can play. This isn’t a game and I’m tired of trying to convince you of that.” Tris saw strings moving that were connected to her and froze as she took in her surroundings. They were gray but with a green-blue tinge to them but she had no idea who they belonged to. This was bad.

“Oh come on! You’re not even paying attention to me.” Adrien had been talking but she’d stopped listening to try and track the strings movements. They were only connected to her, not the others. That couldn’t be a good thing. Now the others were taking turns trying to defend their actions, well not Kagami but everyone else. One of the strings moved behind Adrien and she lunged.

“What is wrong with you?” Chloe’s enraged shout was followed by stunned silence when Tris pulled a man in his mid twenties out of the shadows. He looked just as surprised as everyone else.

“Come out or your partner dies.” The man she was holding started sputtering gibberish, but the other string started to move. Another man, a brother by the looks of it, stepped into the light.

“Calm down baby death, we’re here to help.” She just scowled at him. No one called her that except…

“Which one of you is Blake?” The Miraculous holders just looked confused while the man she was holding looked impressed. The one across the room just laughed.

“Both of us, well all three of us actually. Going by one code name helps keep everyone guessing. Granted you deal exclusively with our baby sister. Once she figured out you were still a kid she refused to let us near any of your projects.” He sounded rather put out but Tris was just trying to follow his explanation.

“And why would she do that?” The man she was holding gave an annoyed snort.

“She thinks we’re not detail oriented enough. Load of crap if you ask me.” The other one rolled his eyes.

“Couldn’t have anything to do with the time one of your devices blew up the person using it. Obviously, she’s just overreacting. What pisses me off is that your bad behavior got both of us banned from the cool projects.” She was getting a headache again. She sighed and looked at the still speechless holders.

“You all go home. I’ll take care of this.” They all looked like the wanted to argue and her temper finally gave out. “Leave now! Or you’ll all find yourselves relocated to somewhere insanely remote so I don’t have to worry about you following orders.” That at least got them moving, even if she was certain they would all get mad at her about it later.

“Bit harsh don’t you think?” She just glared at the man she was holding before throwing him at his partner. Their expression as they hit the ground would have been entertaining if she weren’t so pissed off.

“You’ve got one minute to tell me why you’re here and how you found me before you find out exactly how I got my moniker.” They both started talking over each other and Tris couldn’t understand a word they said. Why was this her life?

“Will you two morons shut up! Hold up your phone so I can talk to her.” The voice was female and the older one fished his phone out of his vest and turned it towards her. “Sorry about them. I would have come myself but I don’t leave the workshop, ever. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“I still need my questions answered.” The woman’s lips quirked up in a small smile before she answered.

“How we found you is simple. All of our products have homing devices so we can destroy or retrieve them to keep them out of improper hands. We normally don’t use them unless we have reason to believe they’ve been compromised but I’ll admit I’ve been keeping an eye on you for about a year and a half. The why is a bit more complicated.” Tris wanted so badly to just explode. Why did everyone think she was incompetent? She forced it down though. She needed to know what the hell was going on.

“I’m waiting.” She could hear the annoyance in her own voice and cursed at herself mentally. You don’t give people ammunition to use against you like that. The woman’s gaze softened.

“I really am sorry about this. I wasn’t trying to meddle but we got a call from another client asking us to help you. Well, sort of.” Tris just motioned her to keep going. There was no point in interrupting now. “The mini al Ghul called us in a panic saying that there was someone in Paris that he needed full gear for. When he gave sizes I realized it had to be you. He doesn’t know you’re the Angel of Death I take it?”

“No he doesn’t and I’d rather keep it that way.” She just nodded.

“I figured as much. I told him I’d get in contact with you since he didn’t have any real information on your location other than in Paris. He offered to pay for anything you need too. I’d definitely take him up on that. The boy’s got some deep pockets.”

“I don’t need his money and I certainly don’t need him thinking I owe him anything. That still doesn’t explain why you sent them in person.” Both men flinched when she gestured at them. It was honestly gratifying at this point. The woman let out a sigh.

“You’re not the only one I’ve been tracking. Talia is making a bee line for Paris. I know you can handle yourself but given you’ve never stayed in one place this long I thought you might want help protecting the reason you’re there. The boys are idiots a lot of the time but they do know how to fight. They also have the ability to detonate half of Talia’s equipment.” Okay that was tempting.

“And what are you charging for this service? Pissing off Talia is a death sentence, you can’t expect me to believe you’re doing this out of the kindness of your hearts.” Both men’s expressions hardened into glares and the woman gave her a tight smile.

“You’re not the only one who’s had their life destroyed by that harpy. Paybacks a bitch and today that bitch is me.” Well at least that was a motive Tris understood.

AO3 Prologue Beginning Previous Next

Ko-Fi

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@kceedraws @theatreandcomicfreak @krispydefendorpolice @magic-miraculous @chocolatecatstheron @mooshoon @northernbluetongue @interobanginyourmom @rebecarojas07 @dast218 @abrx2002 @damianette-is-life @yin-390 @fontegagrilledcheese @bigpicklebananatree @tbehartoo @nobodyw8s4evr @linim2503 @ladybug-182 @marinettepotterandplagg @daminett4life @thethirdwheelfriend @corabeth11 @emotionalsupportginger @shizukiryuu @toodaloo-kangaroo @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @sassakitty @my-name-is-michell @multplelifes @sassydepression @danielslilangel @winter-gardenflower @animegirlweeb @romanoff-queen @nanakeid @paradoxal-occurance @theg0ddesspersephone @hinata3487 @irontimetravelflower @the-real-gingakid @heaven428 @peachedpocky @justafanwarrior @gentlemanoftimetravel @18-fandoms-unite-08 @kittycatwowmeow @pale-lady-dreamer @i-is-mysterious @captainartsypants @write-for-your-life2 @queengeorgiaaa @schrodingers25 @thecaptainthunder @elspethshadow @stela-likes-drawing @loysydark @lozzybowe @renscorpio @elmokingkong @the-fusionist @tis-i-beanbandit @smolplantmum @iwantwhirlledpeasandlotsatrees @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @chocolateherringtacofan @how-to-fuction-properly

#maribat #marinette dupain cheng #original characters #chloe bourgeois #adrien agreste #luka couffaine #kagami tsuguri

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heynikkiyousofine · 3 years

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Inukag Week Day 3

Promise

Okay guys, this is my first try at InuKag week, as I’ve always loved it each year before. Enjoy my story for Day 3: Promise! @inukag-week

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/31995838">InuKag Week 2021 Day 3 Promise</a> (5135 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/heynikkiyousofine">heynikkiyousofine</a> Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/InuYasha%20-%20A%20Feudal%20Fairy%20Tale">InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale</a> Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Higurashi Kagome/InuYasha Characters: InuYasha (InuYasha), Higurashi Kagome, Kaede (InuYasha), Miroku (InuYasha), Sango (InuYasha) Additional Tags: InuKag Week 2021 Summary: Inukag work for Day 3, hope you enjoy!

Inuyasha sat high in the tree, eyes closed, relaxing against the trunk, his ears flickering every few seconds, listening to the encouraging words of the monk below. He knew his Kagome could do it, she just had to believe it herself. They had been traveling for almost three seasons now and she grew more powerful every time they went into battle. As much as he hated to admit it, these sessions with Miroku were helping her access and channel her spiritual powers every time she faced a new danger. He would still protect her with his life no matter what, he promised himself that.

“Kagome, try one more time. Close your eyes, focus on expanding your barrier to cover both of us. Deep breaths.” Miroku spoke softly, as if he was any louder, he might discourage her.

“Okay, I can do this.” She said to herself, knowing one and/or both men were listening and watching. She felt that spark of power, the pure warmth expanding from her soul, brushing softly against her skin and covering her entire body. She could feel her skin buzzing with barrier slowly being pushed out from her body, as if it wanted to protect the precious things inside.

“Great, take a breath again, deep breath in, and when you exhale, push the barrier farther. You’re doing great.”

Sweat starting to form on her brow, she did her best to breath normally and push her barrier out. Kagome heard Miroku’s gasp and quickly opened her eyes. Around her, him, the tree where Inuyasha sat and a few more, were enveloped in her barrier. She squealed and laughed, catching her gaze with Inuyasha, who smiled slightly in return. “That’s my girl.” Inuyasha thought, knowing he could never actually tell her to her face without facing the teasing of Miroku or the knowing smile from Sango. Hearing Kagome gasp like she was in pain, he was instantly jumping from the tree to her side.

“Kagome!” Both men shouted.

Falling to her knees, with Miroku on her right, catching her arm, Inuyasha, right in front crouching, holding her left hand, Kagome was breathing extremely fast, her heart pounding, feeling like she had ran for hours. “I think I might have overdone it.” She admitted sheepishly, cheeks rapidly flushing, realizing Inuyasha was holding her hand.

“While you did a great job Kagome, I think it might be time to rest for the evening and we can continue training in a day or so, after some rest. We are only about a day’s walk back to Kaede’s home as well. I understand you need to restock on supplies.” Miroku spoke reassuringly.

While nodding her head, Kagome turned her eyes toward Inuyasha’s and softly smiled. Grunting, he spoke. “Miroku’s right. You can get some rest. You shouldn’t over do it.” Slightly scolding her, while also being gentle, he helped her up to her feet, hiding the fear in his eyes as an unwelcoming thought came about.

“I’m okay. Let’s go get dinner started. I’m sure Sango is waiting for us.” Kagome sighed.

As they headed back to their make shift camp for the night, the spot becoming more common to stop at when they traveled, Kagome couldn’t help but feel suddenly exhausted, like all her energy was being drained for her. Tripping over her feet, she felt clawed hands catch her upper shoulders and suddenly swing her arms up around his neck, so she was on his back. Smiling softly, she laid her head on his shoulders and whispered a thanks. Feeling his hands tighten around her legs, she knew he heard her.

Miroku spoke up suddenly, “Do you feel that?” Turning to his left, then his right, past the couple, he felt like his energy was trying to be drained from him, towards an evil aura. Inuyasha looked at him questionably, stopping as well, with Kagome lifting her head to look at him as well. The feeling vanished suddenly, as if it was caught doing something it shouldn’t, and Miroku shook his head, sighing softly, “Never mind, I thought I felt an evil presence.”

“That line only works in a village, when you just so happen to spot a well off house, Monk.” Inuyasha scoffed. “Let’s go, I want ramen and I don’t want Shippo to think he can have mine.”

Later that evening, after dinner was cleaned up, everyone got settled into their sleeping arrangements, Sango eyeballing Miroku, making sure there was plenty of space between them, Kagome felt even more exhausted and sore, wondering if she had pushed herself too hard today. “I think I’m going to refill my water and stretch my legs,” getting up and gathering her bow and arrows. Standing up as well, Inuyasha stated, “I’m coming with you.”

“I’m okay, the stream is right there. I’ve got my weapon just in case.”

“I’m still coming with you.” He replied gruffly, walking closer, “I have to ask you something.” He added softly.

Smiling brightly, she nodded her head and turned toward the stream with her empty bottle. Miroku and Sango watched them leave, exchanging questioning looks. As they walked quietly over, kneeling down, she felt him sit down beside her. After filling it, she screwed the cap on her bottle, Kagome looked up at the sky, it’s stars shining so brightly, smiling at how the stars just never seem to be as bright in her time.

“Kagome?”

Turning her head, she locked eyes with Inuyasha, gasping softly, she saw so many emotions come across his face. He never seemed to be this troubled or want to talk. “Yes?”

“Can you promise me something? And in return, I will promise you something?”

“Of course, what is it? What is troubling you so much?” Using her right hand, she took ahold of his.

A slight blush forming on his cheeks, he swallowed quickly, knowing if he didn’t spit the words out, he wouldn’t ever and he needed to know this. “First, will you promise to be more careful with your powers? I know today, you made progress, but you, uh, worried me there for a second. I mean, I knew you would be fine, but I couldn’t but help, uh, but think if there was danger around, someone could actually hurt you. Not that I would let them. Uh, I mean, my promise is-“

“Inuyasha.” Without realizing he was looking at their hands, he lifted his head to clash his golden eyes to the brightest, blue eyes, that you could get lost in. Kagome, smiling and softly spoke, “You’re rambling. Take a breath. Start over for me.”

Feeling much more calm than before, he squeezed her hand in a silent thank you, began to speak again. “Kagome, you are getting stronger. You can fight really well. I just want, no, I need you to promise me, that you won’t over do it, and end up hurting yourself again. That you will, uh, let me protect you.”

With a matching blush, Kagome nodded, “Oh Inuyasha, I promise. I want to stay by your side.”

“I will protect you with my life, Kagome. I promise you that.”

“Can I ask you something, Inuyasha?”

Nodding in agreement, he squeezed her hand again, in encouragement, noticing her sudden nervousness.

“After everything is said and done with Naraku, will you let me stay by your side?”

Silence.

“I mean, of course, I know you have other obligations and such, but you and Shippo, Sango, Miroku and Kaede have become so much more than friends to me and-“ she rambled on, eyes shutting tight, feeling insecure, like she said the wrong thing, letting her thoughts get away with her.

“Kagome.”

Opening her eyes, she saw the one thing she never thought to see reflected back in his eyes, love. “Kagome, I want us to stay together. If you want, I, uh, want to build us a hut. I want you to stay by my side.”

Laughing, Kagome jumped into his arms, giving him the tightest hug she could imagine, tears forming in her eyes. Burying her face in his fire rat, feeling his arms wrap around her, she nodded and enthusiastically repeated yes, over and over.

Chucking, Inuyasha, squeezed her, with a smile on his face. “Okay, now that that is settled, let’s get some rest, so we can make it back to your time tomorrow evening. You talked about another one of your exam demons you have to fight. We can talk more later.”

Giggling softly, she agreed and they headed back to camp, not even realizing their friends were laying, smiling, having heard most of the conversation.

The next morning, after breakfast and packing up their stuff, they began to travel back toward the village. Inuyasha up front, with Shippo on his shoulder, babbling on about the latest toy he couldn’t wait to play with, Miroku nodding along, beside him. A few paces back, Kagome and Sango followed with Kiara in Sango’s arms, napping slightly.

“You look fairly happy this morning Kagome.”

“I am. Inuyasha and I had a talk last night that cleared some things up, made a promise to each other. My heart just seems really happy today.” Kagome responded, a smile forming on her face.

Sango laughed and hugged, causing both girls to laugh louder, making the men up front, turn around and stare at them with questionable looks.

“It’s nothing guys! Kagome and I are having girl talk.”

Hearing them mumble and turn back around, Kagome sighed happily. She wondered if when she went home, she could go get a few extra things for the group, just because. Before she could think any further, she felt a wave of foreboding wash over her, causing her to stop and turn around, expecting to find something behind her. It was a like a pull towards the campsite they were at the previous night.

“What is it?” Sango asked stepping up beside her, stroking Kiara’s fur.

“I don’t know, it’s this weird pull, like something is calling me.”

“Come on! We haven’t got all day!” Inuyasha yelled at them from a little ways in front, the men not stopping to realize the girls felt something. As soon as Kagome turned to tell him what she was feeling, it disappeared, as if being caught, like a child sneaking a cookie before dinner. “It’s gone” she whispered to Sango, shrugging.

“If it comes back, we’ll check it out. Let’s get back to Kaede.” Nodding in agreement, they jogged to hurry up with the boys.

As dusk neared, they came walking towards Kaede’s hut, seeing her pull her door mat aside, welcome them. “Hello ye! I was wondering if ye all were arriving back soon. Come inside, I have just finished a pot of stew.” Thanking her as they walked inside, Inuyasha giving a nod in thanks for once, Kagome felt a light breeze, and slightly shivered, thinking about the weird feeling from earlier. Brushing it off, thinking it as nerves for her upcoming test she had been trying to study for at lunch, she followed everyone inside.

Once dinner was finished, everyone sat around the fire, speaking of the few demons they had slain, gaining two more jewel shards recently. Kaede asked about Naraku and of any whereabout, they told her that hadn’t seen or heard any hide of him since Mount Hakurei collapsed, that they came back to stock up on supplies, and hopefully go on another search in a few days, after Kagome returned. Shippo and Kiara curled softly near the fire, Shippo snoring softly.

The uneasy feeling from before washed over Kagome again, gasping looked toward the door.

“Something doesn’t feel right.” Miroku spoke and catching everyone’s attention.

“Kagome, are you feeling that weird sensation from earlier again?” Sango asked, touching her shoulder softly, nothing Kagome looked a little pale.

“What feeling? Why didn’t you say anything Kagome? What’s going on?” Inuyasha asked, voice growing louder and louder, staring Kiara and Shippo awake.

Before she could respond, Miroku started to speak, “Kagome, is this feeling, like something that is pulling at you, pulling at your soul in a direction, also a feeling of something bad and uneasy?”

Nodding, Kagome agreed quietly, “it started this morning, but I haven’t felt it since before lunch.”

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Inuyasha asked again, crouching next to Kagome, trying to catch her eyes.

Looking down, feeling suddenly tired, Kagome started to speak, when everyone gasped around her. She looked up at their faces, she saw expressions of seriousness, confusions and astonishment. Seeing her hands out of the corner of her eyes, she realized she was glowing! What was going on?

“What the fuck?” Inuyasha angrily asked, getting to his feet turning towards the door quickly. “Something is coming.”

Jumping up, Miroku and Kaede applied sutras to the door panels, casting a barrier around the hut. Kagome immediately stopped glowing, feeling a little bit more energized, take a deep breath.

“Child, I think somebody is trying to steal your soul.” Kaede stated.

“Could it be Kikyo?” Sango asked quietly, gathering Kagome’s trembling hands in hers, knowing she needed to get ready for a battle.

Hearing Inuyasha growl loudly, swearing under his breath, Kaede shushed him and turned to the young ladies, both with frightened looks on their face. “No, I cannot feel her presence here. This is a far more pronounced evil, someone who has taken many souls.”

“I felt this feeling yesterday, but I think because I am more experienced in my spiritual powers, they couldn’t take mine. Kagome, I think, whoever it is, is after your powers and your pure soul.”

Feeling like she was about to faint, face going pale, she felt a clawed hand on her shoulder. Turning slowly, she locked eyes with hard, determine gold ones, hearing the words from his mouth, “I promised to protect you with my life.” Nodding in agreement, she closed her eyes and took a deep breathe, trying to steady herself again.

Feeling soft paws other outstretched legs, she opened her eyes to see Shippo looking at her with a worrisome expression, “Are you alright Gome?”

“Yes, Shippo, I’m okay. So what do we do now? I can’t stay in this hut forever.” Kagome asked out loud.

Before anyone could respond a loud, shrill scream came from outside, causing everyone to stop and stare at the sutra covered doorway.

“Stay here.” Inuyasha walked towards the door, turning around, “I’ll check it out.”

“Wait, Inuyasha, if you-“ Miroku started to yell. As Inuyasha stepped through the door, the barrier around the hut shattered down, making the whole hut shake. “Inuyasha! You just dispelled the barrier, now anything can come and go!”

“How was I supposed to know that?!”

Hearing a feminine laughter outside, everyone grabbed their weapons and fled the hut. Rushing outside, they saw a village woman weeping over a body, that looked devoid of a soul and a witch standing a few feet away, glowing in the same light color Kagome had been in previously. This witch was tall, with long, pin straight, black hair, and black eyes that reminded Kagome of the darkest clouds during a thunderstorm.

“Ah, finally, that delectable soul has come out to play. I was wondering when I would get to see the face of the purest soul I have ever tasted.” The witch, in a purple garment, with elegant red beading, spoke arrogantly.

“Who the fuck are you?” Inuyasha growled loudly, pushing Kagome behind him. He didn’t like this woman or that she made his Kagome sacred.

“Well, if I must tell you, before I take all of your souls, my name is Ahmya”

“Black rain.” Miroku whispered.

“You are correct, Monk. I cursed my mother for giving me the name, she never wanted me. Her angry soul tasted divine I tell you.”

“So, that’s why you’re after our souls? Because you have mommy issues? Grow the fuck up.” Inuyasha yelled, pulling out his tessaiga and pointing it towards the woman.

Beginning to walk around the weeping villager, Ahmya began to tell her story, “Oh, my dear sweet, I have gotten over my mommy issues as you say. I walk the countryside, devouring ugly souls for my own benefit. It hasn’t been until the last few decades or so that I have come to know pure souls taste better and give me longer strength and beauty.”

“So, you made a deal with a demon then? For beauty? Well, I can tell you it didn’t work.” Inuyasha smugly responded.

Laughing like it was the funniest thing she ever heard, “I can see why her soul yearns for yours. You are charming hanyou.”

Gasping softly, Kagome began to see blurs of faces, children’s cries, souls being pulled from their bodies toward this woman. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she tried to put into words what she was seeing, her heart breaking. “What did you do to her?! Kagome?!” Inuyasha yelled, smelling her tears, turned around to face her, shocked by what he was seeing. Kagome’s hands were glowing pink, cupped together, eyes glazed over, tears flowing down her cheeks, mumbling soft words.

“Miroku, Sango, watch over everyone, I’m going to rip this witch to shreds.”

“You took their souls.” Kagome spoke softly, just loud enough for Sango to step up and ask, “What was that Kagome?”

Smiling, Ahmya started laughing. “This girl has so much power, beyond any I have ever seen in my years, with the purest soul. I tried to taste more of her this morning, but she is strong. She caught what I was doing before I got far. I, however, did get to look inside her soul, that she yearns to protect you hanyou, like you protect her. That she cares for all you others more than anything. How much she loves her beloved hanyou. She is correct, some of the purest souls have been children. They tasted so sweet, I can still hear their cries as I cradled them into their death.”

“You took so many souls. Children, old folks, babies from wombs, children from their mother’s hands, whole demon families wiped out from you, How could you?!” Kagome began, her voice growing louder, til she was almost yelling, her body beginning to glow all over and bright pink color.

“Kagome, you’re going to push yourself too hard again, take a breath.” Miroku spoke softly, trying to calm her down, stepping closer.

“I’m going to kill you. I’m going to make you pay for killing all those people and for hurting Kagome.” Inuyasha swore, raising his sword up high, while Kaede rushed to the weeping woman, and erected a barrier to protect them, knowing Inuyasha’s power. Miroku stepped in front of Sango and Kagome, while Shippo tried to help Kagome take deep breaths on her shoulder.

Before Inuyasha could swing his sword. he froze, grunting in pain. “What the hell?”

“Inuyasha!” Kagome shouted, taking step towards him.

“Stop. I’m okay, I think” he responded, feeling faint. As Inuyasha’s body started to glow white, he suddenly dropped to his knees, a vacant look crossing his face.

“I’ll start with his soul first. The yearning to protect you makes his soul quite delicious.” Ahmya licked her lips, brought her hands together, holding a mirror, chanting a soft spell, making it glow the same pale color Inuyasha was glowing in. Within the next second, an arrow surrounded in pink flew through the air, towards the mirror, causing it to fall from her hands. Eyes flashing in annoyance, Ahmya turned towards to woman who fired.

Kagome, breathing hard, readied another arrow, “Leave him alone.”

Falling to the ground, breathing shallow, Inuyasha groaned, looking up. Sango ran to this side and helped him, gathering him to his feet. Miroku started to chant, pulling his staff in front of him, creating a barrier around the gang, while Kaede still watched from afar, wearily, with the weeping woman.

“You wretched child. I will have his soul, and yours when I am done pulling his from his body.” Ahyma screeched.

Getting to his feet, Inuyasha yelled, getting ready to release the Wind Scar, Miroku stopped him. “If you release that in here, then we all die. If you step out of that barrier, she will steal your soul. You will lose yourself to your demon side, trying to survive, or you will die!”

“Inuyasha please, we’ll figure this out!” Sango pleaded. She knew this battle would be like none other fought before. Gathering Shippo setting him atop Kiara beside her, she braced herself beside Inuyasha, Hiraikotsu in position.

“Look! She’s chanting again.” Cried Shippo.

Turning around, Inuyasha stepped towards Kagome, only to hear words like a piercing scream, causing his head to pound. Pushing his ears towards his head, he saw Kagome with her hands over her ears, eyes shut tight, everyone else around with the same pained looks. Within seconds, the barrier Miroku tried to keep up, shattered, and the screaming stopped.

“Kagome! Are you okay?” Inuyasha cried.

Nodding slightly, Kagome opened her eyes to see the witch staring straight at her with a smug smile, holding the mirror in her hands once again. As Inuyasha started taking a step towards her, she felt herself becoming angry. Taking a deep, she felt her power spread from her hands, across her body and pushed out, erecting a barrier around everyone, including Kaede and the two villagers, leaving herself outside. She knew what she needed to do.

“Dammit! Kagome! What the fuck are you doing?! Kagome!!!” Inuyasha yelled from inside, beating on the walls with his fists.

“Inuyasha, I’ve got this. I can protect you. If you leave that barrier, she will take your soul.”

“You promised me Kagome! You promised me you wouldn’t over do it. You promised me you would let me protect you!”

Tears beginning to form in eyes, she wiped her cheeks and focused on her breathing, to keep her barrier steady as Inuyasha pounded against it repeatedly. Hearing the other’s voices of concerns, along with Inuyasha’s yelling, she realized Ahmya started to chant again. Knocking an arrow, she whispered “Hit the mark!” And aimed towards to glowing mirror.

Shooting off, the arrow struck in the middle and caused the mirror to shatter into tiny pieces. Small white orbs began to float around them, looking like a million little stars. Smiling, she was about to knock another arrow to take care of the witch, she began to feel the faint feeling again and saw she glowing a light white light. Falling to her knees, she gasped and the witch began to laugh, while the orbs of light floated away.

“You may have destroyed my mirror, which houses the souls that I have yet to devour, but I still can take yours.”

Kagome could hear Inuyasha getting louder, yelling and pounding, crying out her name desperately. “If I can get one more arrow in her, I can save them.” She thought bitterly to herself. Using the last of her strength, she pulled an arrow back, stringing the bow tightly. Before she could release, the bow snapped in two. Gasping in shock, she felt the last of her strength leave her, causing Kagome to fall to the ground, face first.

“NO! KAGOME! WHAT DID YOU DO BITCH? KAGOME! KAGGOMMMEEEEE!!!!” Inuyasha screamed, purple markings beginning to appear across his cheek bones, Sango had tears rolling down her cheeks, holding a wailing Shippo. Miroku began to say a prayer to let her soul find its peace in nirvana, when he noticed the barrier did not fall.

“Look,” he began, “the barrier is still up. She’s still there.” Sango, hearing this, quieted a sniffling Shippo, looking towards the girl on the ground, who lay lifeless still.

“Inuyasha, stop. Ye need to look.” Kaede began to stand, speaking directly at the angry and hurt hanyou.

“Old hag, don’t stop me. I’m going to kill that evil bitch and get her soul back.” He seethed, fangs growing, piercing his lip.

“Inuyasha. Look.” She repeated.

Turning he looked at Ahmya, seeing confusion and frustration wash across her features, wrinkles beginning to appear across her forehead. “What the…” he whispered, whipping his head to Kagome, who was glowing a bright pink.

Opening her eyes, Kagome knew she wasn’t in heaven or hell. She felt the dirt beneath her face, the soft grass on her skin. She couldn’t hear her friend’s voices. Everything seemed to be pounding in her head, she began to get up on her knees, noticing she was glowing pink, her strength returning slowly. Looking up, she saw Ahmya struggling to keep up her chant, aging beyond her years, and turned to her right to see everyone staring at her with wonder, behind her still standing, fully erect barrier. Turning in confusion, she locked eyes with Miroku, who nodded. She knew what to do next.

Determined, she began to stand, following the struggling sounds of the witch, turned her gaze towards her. Ahmya realized that she was failing. Quickly changing to another spell, deciding she could weave one to bind the girl and take her away, so she could get her soul later at her home. Suddenly, she saw the girl glow brighter, she began her spell, creating a glow around herself the color of dark purple, similar to her clothing. Shielding their eyes, everyone in the barrier braced for the unknown, Inuyasha glancing uneasily, between Kagome and Ahyma, hands on tessaiga, ready to go once the barrier was down. Sango and Miroku steadied their weapons, Kaede getting an arrow ready to shoot.

Kagome knew in this instant, if she didn’t stop this witch, she would steal more souls and never stop, taking the purest from the world. Taking a deep breath, she loudly exclaimed, her body glowing brighter, “You will never take a soul ever again.” Using all her strength and power, she readied herself to send it towards the witch. Creating a bow and arrow, whispered “How the mark.” As an arrow made from pure purification energy soared through the air, Ahyma screamed, stopping her spell and turn to try and run. Before she could take a step, the arrow plunged straight through her heart, everything exploding around her.

As the brightness died down, Ahyma dropped her knees wailing, looking at her reflection in the pieces of the broken mirror, seeing an old woman, barely hanging on to life. “You, you child! How could a child do this to me?! I will have your power! I will have ever lasting life!” Screaming, she pulled a knife from her sleeve, not noticing Kagome brought the barrier down a few seconds before.

Inuyasha jumped infant on Kagome, preventing Ahyma from harming her, and swung. “Wind Scar!” Howling in pain, Ahyma disintegrated to ash. All was quiet for about 30 seconds, before Inuyasha turned around towards Kagome with the most irate look on his face.

“Inuyasha.” Miroku spoke softly, coming up beside him, Sango following quickly with Shippo. “Wait.”

Before Inuyasha could say anything, he look at Kagome and froze. Kagome was still as can be, arms hanging beside her, body swirling in pink and white glowing colors, eyes glazed over with a blank face, covered in a barrier.

“I think ye need to take a step back everyone. She is trying to reclaim her soul and calm herself. Give her a minute.” Kaede spoke, helping the gentleman and his still crying wife up, encouraging them to go home, that they were fine and she would check on the tomorrow. “Kagome is very powerful, she realized herself tonight and her soul is attempting to recognize all of it and what she has done. Unconsciously she thinks she is still in danger and is protecting herself.”

“She won’t hurt me.” Stepping closer, Inuyasha spoke softly, “Kagome, it’s me. You are safe now. The witch is dead. I’ve got you.” He reached for her hand, and as he intertwined their fingers, her felt her take a deep breathe and eyes clearing the beautiful blue he had come to love.

The first thing she saw in his eyes was anger, followed by fear, and absolutely awe. Smiling softly, she called his name and took a step towards him, incasing him in her barrier. Once fully inside, the two of them just stood there looking at each other, neither of them speaking just yet.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

Both realizing they spoke at the same time, they blushed and laughed breathlessly.

“You were reckless. How could you Kagome?! You promised me and then went and broke every promise you made to me! I thought you died. Are you okay?”

“I’m so sorry, it wasn’t until she started to take your soul that I realized what I needed to do. I’m okay, I promise.” Kagome softly said, tears forming in her soft, blue eyes. Feeling two hands cuff her cheeks and thumbs wiping away the tears, she brought her hands to cover his.

“You can’t make promises and then break them. I can’t lose you Kagome. Promise me you won’t do that again. You have to swear. You told me you wanted to stay by my side. I need you, haven’t you figured that out by now, Kagome?”

“I swear, I promise. I won’t leave your side again.”

“You better. I’m holding you to that promise.” Inuyasha quickly kissed her forehead, making them both blush softly. “I think you had better let the barrier down, so the others can see that you’re okay. Sango looks like she’s about to kick my ass if I don’t let you go soon.”

Laughing in agreement, Kagome closed her eyes and released a deep breath, bringing down her barrier. Feeling multiple arms around her, she laughed louder, smiling, as everyone began to talk while hugging her.

“Child, ye scared a few years off my life.”

  “Kagome, are you okay? Don’t scare me like that sister.”

“Kagome, job well down. Next time, let me know when you decide to do something that powerful. I can see our lessons are working!”

“You’re okay! I was so worried about Gome! You were such a badass!”

“Shippo!” Kagome exclaimed, “Language!”

“Sorry!”

“Kagome, ye were wonderful, ye are growing stronger all the time.” Kaede began.

“She doesn’t have to do that all the time! She promised me she would be more careful.”

“Inuyasha, move over, I want to hug her.”

“Alright slayer, but I’m staying right next to her. Monk, don’t touch me.”

“It’s the curse, not me!”

“Gome! You should purify Miroku!” Shippo snickered, everyone laughing along.

“It’s the hand, I swear! I always get blamed.” Miroku exclaimed shaking his head. Kagome laughed, shaking her head at their antics, thinking of her promise to Inuyasha, that she would do whatever it took so she could stay by his side forever.

The End.

#inukag week #inukag #inuyahsa #inuyasha #kagome #mirsan #promise #inukago #inukag fluff #fluff #romance

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timegirl · 3 years

Text

Cats Don't Have Nine Lives - Moceit Appreciation Week 2021

Characters: Patton, Janus

Relationship: Platonic or Romantic

Prompts: Aftermath (day 2), Animal (day 4)

Word Count: 2073

Trigger Warnings: This whole fic surrounds a death of a pet and the mourning of the owner. It is sad. Contains a light description of a declining medical condition of a pet. Please don't read if you're sensitive to these topics. Patton tries to blame himself. Food is mentioned briefly.

Summary: Patton suffers a loss and Janus comforts him.

@moceit-appreciation-week @moceit

This is not like my regular works. It is sad and depressing, and is based on my own life. More details on ao3. Please mind the warnings and the tags, stay safe.

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

“Hey, Jan? I was just at the vet... it’s.... over....”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry... Are you going home now?”

sniffle “Yeah...”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Okay...”

Janus used the spare key he had to Patton’s apartment. “Patton, darling?” He called and closed the door behind him. He heard soft sobs greeting him from the living room. “Oh, baby...” He hurried to the living room and found his friend curled up on the sofa, clutching a small baby blue blanket to his chest. His face was puffed and red, and tears were streaming down his cheeks non stop.

“Patton, honey...” Janus clicked his tongue and quickly sat beside Patton, opening his arms for the other to snuggle in his embrace. The moment he was sat Patton clung to his torso and sobbed hard and loud, burying his face in Janus' chest and wetting his shirt with tears. Janus frowned, his brows furrowing in concern, and started rubbing slow circles on Patton back.

“I’m so sorry...” He whispered. “Shhhhhh.....” Janus started rocking gently back and forth, trying to sooth Patton’s ache.

They sat like that for a few minutes, holding each other. Janus took the opportunity to look around at the apartment. It was a really saddening look. Everywhere you looked there were cat themed objects. Never mind the cat stickers decorating the walls and the little kitty sculptures on the shelves, everything in this house screamed that there’s a feline resident in there.

A brown cat bed with a monkey plushie sitting in its corner.

Three carton boxes in different sizes were lined up opened against the wall.

A carton board on the floor beneath a blue bench that was much too small for a human. The board was covered in claw marks and teared a bit in the edges.

Toys were scattered everywhere on the floor. Mice, spikey balls, balls with little bells inside. There was one cat wand on the floor near the cat bed, a stick with a brown furry string and several colorful feathers tied to the end.

A blue cat tree was standing next to the sofa, a plaid blanket cushioned the lowest platform.

The armchair was covered in absurd amounts of cat fur, as if to say this was her spot, no one else's.

Janus lifted his gaze upwards. The walls weren't spared either. On two different walls there were blue cushioned shelves designed as stairs, going from the floor to a level above Janus' head as he stood in his full height, and Patton was shorter than him. On one step of the stairs sat a small tiger plushie.

As Patton's sobs slowly quieted down, the silence between the two was disturbed only by a small water fountain in the corner of the room, trickling steadily.

Patton didn’t want to let go of Janus. He felt like someone pulled the rug from under his feet, and Janus' firm hands were his only lifeline. He smelled nice, too, as much as Patton was able to smell with a stuffy nose from all the crying. Like the comfort and nostalgia of opening an old book with yellowing pages, with just a hint of cologne. He was warm, and it felt comforting to be held by him, like a comfort blanket. Patton was no longer crying, just inhaling Janus' scent softly to ground himself. Janus' fingers caressed the back of his head and Patton leaned into the touch.

Eventually Janus broke the silence.

"She's had a good life." He whispered into Patton's hair, and Patton felt the vibrations rumble in his chest.

Patton sighed heavily. "Yeah..." he mumbled. Sniffling once, he pulled himself away and wiped the remaining tears off his cheeks, the ones that weren't coating Janus' shirt. He looked down at the blanket he was holding.

"That's hers, right?" Janus asked.

"Yeah," said Patton, "I used it to get her into the cage, you know how she gets," he chuckled humorlessly. Janus gave him a sad smile. "She was also... wrapped in it when... when the vet... you know..."

"Yeah..." Janus rubbed his hand on Patton's arm comfortingly.

"You know, she's had a kidney failure two years ago, and the vet said that we're only prolonging the inevitable. Eventually it'll happen again and it'll be the end," Patton busied his hand with the hem of the blanket, "but I thought it'll be at least... five years, you know? Not two. Not that it wouldn't have been hard either way, but, still... It's just... so abrupt," he frowned, the tears threatening to overflow again.

"Well," Janus hesitated, "at least now you won't need the antihistamines anymore, right?" he tried for humor, and Patton's lips broke into a genuine smile and he laughed weakly through his nose.

"Right..." His smile slowly turned into a solemn expression and he sighed. "What if..." he bit his lower lip, "what if I could've stopped it?"

"Patton, no. It is not your fault."

"No, I know... The vet said it would've happened anyway... But what if I wasn't perceptive enough? Maybe if I'd noticed something's wrong sooner they could've saved her..." Tears began to accumulate in Patton's eyes.

"Sweetie, listen to me." Janus took both of Patton's hands in his and looked straight into his eyes. "It is not your fault. You were an amazing owner. You loved her so much and gave her everything she could've ever dreamed of."

"But I-"

"Shh shh shh, no buts," Janus used his thumb to gently wipe a stray tear off Patton's cheek, beneath his glasses. "I've known you since before you adopted her. I've seen how you took care of her with everything you have. Spending nights treating her when she was sick, doing everything in your power every day to make her take the medicine you knew she hated but made her feel better, staying awake late to pet her just because she didn't want to go to sleep and you couldn't bare to say no to her. Darling, trust me when I say, she was the luckiest cat in the world to have you as her owner."

Patton started sobbing again, furiously wiping his tears with his fingers, dirtying his wet glasses even more. Janus clicked his tongue. "Come here," he said as he pulled Patton to his embrace once again, placing a kiss on the crown of his head. "It's ok to grieve," he whispered, rocking them back and forth, "but don't beat yourself up about things out of your control." Patton sniffed, nodding weakly. Janus waited a bit before saying, "Let's bring you some water, ok honey?" Patton nodded again and pulled back. "I'll be right back." Janus said and petted Patton's cheek gently. He stood up and walked to the kitchen to get Patton a glass of water.

In the kitchen, Janus noticed a bowl of dry cat food in the corner. He debated getting rid of it and sparing Patton the pain, but decided against it. He'll ask Patton if he needs help with it, but he might want to do it himself to get some closure.

Janus returned to the living room with a glass of water in his hand. Patton looked up at him as he approached and small smile spread on his face. Janus' chest filled with warmth. He'll do anything for this man, he just wants him to be happy.

"Thank you," Patton said and reached his hand to grab the glass.

"You're welcome, honey," Janus replied as he took his place on the sofa.

They were silent for a moment as Patton drank. "You know," he said, lowering the glass to his lap and holding it with both hands. "I keep thinking about how naïve I was when I adopted her."

"Naïve? How so?"

"I thought it was funny, giving a cat a number as a name. You know, Nine, as in nine lives?" Janus looked at Patton, concern apparent on his forehead. Patton was looking down to his glass in his lap. "Of course there were other reasons too. It was September 2009 when I got her. The ninth month of the ninth year of the milenium. It was so fitting! Of course I couldn't give up the opportunity to give her a name that's a play on words!" Janus frowned and rubbed Patton's knee. "But cats don't really have nine lives, do they? Not even a cat named Nine..." He sighed.

Janus looked at him in silence. It was good that Patton was talking. Janus has spent years trying to make Patton to open up to him. He was always hiding behind jokes and a huge smile. He needed a safe platform to be able to unload everything weighing down on his chest. Janus was always happy to provide him that safe space, and the fact that Patton trusted him enough by now to open up to him was a bit overwhelming, in a good way. But it wasn't about Janus right now, it's about Patton and his pain. Janus knew Patton so well by now, that he didn't need to check to know that if he stayed silent, Patton would open up even more and unload more of his negative feelings, and Janus would be there for him when he does.

Surely enough, after a few moments of silence, Patton let out a breathy laugh, devoid of humor. "I keep thinking she's gonna come out from around the corner like everything's normal... You'd think dying is a one time thing. She died, that's it. It happened. Now we're after it. But it's not..." Patton emptied his glass and placed it on the table. "It's still happening. She didn't just die... She's dead. And she keeps being dead, all the time, over and over again. Every time I look to the hallway and expect her to walk out with her tail wiggling high, she's dead again. Every time I think of her... She's dead. Again. She's really... not coming back... She's staying dead." Patton played with the sleeve of the hoodie that was always tied around his shoulders. "Look at me," he chuckled, "I'm even wearing a cat hoodie. I'm pathetic..." He sighed.

"Patton honey," Janus wrapped his arms over Patton's shoulders and pulled him to rest against his chest, maneuvering himself to a more comfortable position, leaning back on the sofa. "You're not pathetic. Ok?" He stroked Patton's hair with his hand. "Those things take time. I'm not going to lie to you and tell you it'll all be gone one day and you won't feel anything. That's never going to happen." Patton pouted in response. "But it won't be as painful. It won't be an open wound anymore. It will scar." Patton's eyes widened and he looked up to Janus, letting his eyes rest on the scar tissue on the man's left cheek. "A scar is... a reminder of what once was. It's unpleasant to look at, and it's scruffy to touch, and remembering what left the scar is... painful, to say the least." Patton's brows furrowed in a frown. Janus smiled warmly at him. "But it doesn't hurt by itself anymore. You can live your life and not even remember it's there most of the time. At first it hurts and itches and every move you make has to be calculated because the wound is bleeding and everything hurts. But with a scar you don't have to do that anymore. You're going to be ok." Patton sighed and rested his cheek on Janus' chest. "And you know, I thought about what you said." Patton raised his eyebrows and hummed in question. "You weren't naïve. You were being funny, and witty, and wonderful, like you always are." Patton's cheeks warmed in a blush. "I know it might take a while, but I can already see you in a few months with your two new kitties, Seven and Five." Patton giggled and Janus smiled, kissing his hair.

It wasn't perfect. In fact, it was extremely painful, and the grieving process has just begun. But maybe Janus was right. It had a nice ring to it, Seven and Five. Nine's little siblings. Of course, she'll never know them, but it's nice imagining how his first cat's name becomes a legacy in all of his future cats. Patton sighed. It's not going to be easy. But with Janus by his side, maybe, just maybe, he can do it. He will be ok.

#moceitappreciationweek #moceitweek2021 #janus sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides #moceit #fanfic #tw death of a pet #tw death of a loved one #tw grieving #tw food mention #tw self blame #mine

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kpopblurbs · 4 years

Text

3:28pm

Pairing: Han Jisung/Reader Word Count: 2.2k Tags: Role Reversal, Breeding Kink, Mommy Kink, Teasing, Edging, Choking, Cuffs, Gags, Orgasm Denial, Degradation, Female Reader, Dom!Reader at the beginning, then its Dom!Jisung A/N: Order doesn’t matter anymore, imma just post whatever smutmas fic i get done with once it’s ready so that i can get yall that good good content ur looking for uwu Smutmas Masterlist AO3 Link

Weeks like this were hard normally, mostly for Jisung but also for you who had to put up with his constant whining and extra fits of neediness. You enjoyed entertaining his breeding kink but whenever you were ovulating it was completely off limits, you never even teased him knowing that he would get himself worked up on his own anyways. He kept tabs on your cycle just as much as you did and was normally on his best behavior in the days leading up to your ovulation. This time, however, he had acted out, his disobedience surprised you but you took it in stride. He wasn't allowed to cum at all before your ovulation began and now that it had started he was needier than ever.

You decided to add to his punishment, teasing him constantly with little touches until one day you were sitting on the edge of your bed with him on his knees on the floor in front of you. You had allowed him to touch himself, pathetic whines spilling out of his mouth as he stroked himself slowly. His eyes were trained between your legs, your thin lacy panties not leaving much to the imagination. "Such a needy pup." you hummed enjoying the way his hips twitched at your use of the pet name.

“Please.” he whined softly, his hand stuttering as he struggled to maintain the slow pace you had made him set.

“What’s the matter, pup, upset you can’t breed me?” you asked, teasingly running your hand over your clothed heat. He nodded quickly, “Aw, poor pup, too bad I won’t let you touch me.” you said, the fake sympathy in your voice making him let out another whine.

“Mommy, please.” he begged now unable to keep himself from bucking his hips up into his hand.

“Hand off, pup.” you instructed picking up on the signals that he was getting close. He whined loudly but did as he was told, letting his dick fall out of his grip, his hands moved to his thighs, knuckles white as he gripped tightly to keep himself from ignoring your instruction. “Good boy.” you cooed, waiting until it was obvious that his orgasm had gone away before allowing him to continue. As you continued to tease him you could tell that his frustration was growing, his desperate whines transforming into growls as he tried his best to stay obedient.

This was a side of him you hadn’t seen before, normally his frustration was expressed through desperation, he cried easily in times like this but now there were no tears. You wanted to explore the state he was in, to see what happened when you pushed him further. You slipped your hand into your panties not missing the way his upper lip twitched, the fire in his eyes seemed to burn brighter as you touched yourself in front of him. “Don’t you wish this was your hand, pup?” you asked teasingly as you brushed your fingers over your clit. You smirked as he let out another whine, you let out an overdramatic gasp as you slipped two fingers inside of yourself, “Wish this was your dick instead of my fingers?” you asked. You used your other hand to tug your panties to the side, giving him a full view as you pulled your fingers out slowly before pushing them back in.

“I think you want that more than I do, mommy.” Jisung said, his voice low and you looked at him with your eyes wide.

“You know that’s not how you talk to me.” you said sternly.

“How else am I supposed to talk to you when you’re so wet just from me jerking off in front of you.” he sneered at you.

“Pup,” you said in a warning tone, “If you’re not careful you won’t be cumming for awhile.”

“I think,” he said, his hand leaving his dick and moving up to your knee, using it as leverage to pull himself up off of the floor, “It’s my turn to take control, mommy.” he continued. He brought his hand from your knee up to your throat, he didn’t squeeze just yet, instead using it to guide you into laying back on the bed.

“You’re just begging to be punished aren’t you?” you asked, forcing yourself to maintain your level tone.

Jisung moved to straddle your waist before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “If you were gonna punish me for this you would’ve stopped me by now.” you could hear the smirk on his face and you groaned. “Now be good, mommy and maybe I’ll let you cum after I breed you.” he said, keeping one hand around your throat while his other hand traveled down your body. He pulled your fingers away from you, catching both of your wrists in one hand and moving them above your head, “Stay.” he said and you groaned again. He released your wrists and you stayed there for a second before bringing one of your hands to his wrist, tugging at the hand around your throat to try and regain some semblance of control over the situation. “Uh oh, mommy, looks like you don’t know how to follow simple directions.” he said, his hand leaving your throat to tug his wrist out of your grasp. In a second he was off of you, moving to the closet to search through your box of toys before turning around with a smile and holding up the thick leather cuffs you loved to put on him.

“Those better be for you, pup.” you spat at him and he sighed.

“As much as I appreciate the tough act,” he started as he walked back over to you, “I really think if you didn’t want me to pound you into the mattress, you would’ve at least tried to resist me.” he said. He grabbed you by the waist and you gasped as he flipped you onto your stomach roughly before slipping the cuffs onto your wrists and connecting them behind your back. You tugged at them uselessly, “I see why you like to use these, mommy, it’s fun watching you struggle.”

“Fuck you.” you said and he fake gasped.

“Mommy, you know what bad language gets you.” he said and you heard him walk away again.

“Pup, I swear you’re gonna regret this.” you said, continuing to tug at the restraints even though you knew how strong they were.

“Sure, later, but right now I’m having a great time.” he said as he walked back over to you. He lifted you up slightly, helping you get your knees underneath you before his hand moved up your back to wrap around your throat once again. He pulled you up by the throat until your back was pressed to his chest, “Open up.” he instructed, pressing the bright red ball gag to your lips. You refused, shaking your head and keeping your mouth shut tight, he sighed before moving his hand from your throat to pinch your nose closed. You squirmed, trying to get him to release his grip so you could breathe for a second before you finally opened your mouth to gasp for air. He took the opportunity to slip the ball into your mouth, releasing your nose so he could use both hands to buckle the gag tightly around the back of your head.

“See, that’s not so bad is it?” he asked and you tried to talk back though the gag made your words come out in a garbled mess. “I can’t wait to see how pretty you look when you start drooling.” he said, one hand moved back to your throat while his other trailed down the front of your body to slip into your panties. You jolted as he dragged two fingers up your folds, collecting the wetness before pulling his hand back out and holding it up so you could see the light reflecting off of his fingers. “You’re so wet, mommy, I think we should do this more often it’s clear you love it.” he said. You groaned loudly though you couldn’t deny that he was right, something about the way he kept calling you mommy though you were gagged and cuffed was getting you very worked up.

He wiped his fingers off on your cheek and you couldn’t hold back the whimper that slipped past the gag, “That’s a pretty noise, mommy, do it again.” he said before slipping his hand back into your panties. He pressed two fingers into you quickly forcing another whimper out of you, “I could listen to that forever.” he hummed. He began to move his fingers in and out of you, letting you focus on the feeling for a few seconds before you felt him begin to squeeze your throat gently. You let out a whine as it got more difficult for you to breathe and you could feel the drool begin to leak from your mouth onto your chest. “I wish we had a mirror here.” Jisung said, “It’d be fun to force you to watch me break you.” he emphasized his statement by tightening his hand around your throat. You squirmed in his grip as you struggled to get air into your lungs and you bit down on the gag as his fingers picked up the pace. You had just begun to get lightheaded when he released your throat, the rush of air as you gasped around the gag making your lungs burn.

“Do you want me to fuck you, mommy?” Jisung asked lowly, his fingers never stopping their assault on your pussy. You didn’t acknowledge his question, refusing to let him win, you couldn’t hold back the whine as his fingers stilled, “I asked you a question.” he said roughly.

“Fuck you.” you mumbled around the gag, doing your best to make the words as clear as possible.

“Still acting like a brat I see.” he growled before pulling his fingers out of you roughly, “Luckily it doesn’t matter what you want.” he said. He shoved you forward and you turned your head to the side to protect yourself from landing on the mattress nose first. Your knees were still tucked underneath you which meant that your ass was sticking up into the air. “All you’ve done is made sure that you don’t get to cum tonight.” Jisung said before tugging your panties to the side roughly and lining himself up with your entrance. He pushed himself into you quickly, making you cry out and hardly giving you a second to adjust before setting a rough pace. “God, mommy, you feel so good around my cock.” he gasped and you couldn’t help but moan in response. He grabbed your hips roughly, pushing you back and forth in time with his thrusts so you were meeting him halfway every time.

“Such a perfect. toy. for pup. to breed.” he said, emphasizing every word with a hard thrust. You let out a loud whine and squirmed slightly, tugging at the cuffs desperate to reach around and press your fingers to your clit. He moved one of his hands from your hip to the chain that connected your cuffs and you thought for a second he was going to free you but your hopes were quickly dashed as he gripped the chain and tugged using it as leverage to continue pounding into you.

“Please.” you whined to the best of your ability throwing what remained of your dignity out the window too desperate to cum to think clearly.

“Oh, so now mommy wants to be good for her pup.” Jisung hummed, his voice shaking as he tried his best to maintain his pace though you could tell he was close. “Well it’s too late, you’re still not allowed to cum.” he said quickly. You whined and squirmed, the drool that was collecting on the sheets spread onto your cheek as you shifted around desperately. Your shoulders were aching from the way he was tugging on the cuffs and you knew you looked like a mess beneath him. You imagined you must look a lot like he did when you did this to him, the thought making you clench around him and he moaned loudly. “God, mommy, do that again.” he gasped out and you did so obediently, “You’re gonna look so pretty in a second with all my cum leaking from your filthy hole.” he said and you whined.

His thrusts grew erratic, his pace never slowing down as he worked himself towards his orgasm before finally pushing himself fully into you and cumming with a loud cry. He stilled in you for a few seconds, enjoying the way you clenched around him still desperate for stimulation before he pulled out of you. You couldn’t help but whine loudly as he began to free your arms from behind your back signaling that he was done for the night. “I told you, mommy you don’t get to cum tonight.” he said as he tossed the cuffs to the side before reaching up and unbuckling the gag.

“Come on, pup, please.” you begged as soon as the ball was out of your mouth.

“While it is very nice to hear you beg, it’s not gonna work, I’m tired.” he said before flopping down on the bed and pulling you into his arms.

“You’re gonna get it, pup.” you threatened weakly, sighing as he only tightened his grip on you.

“Mmkay mommy.” he responded sleepily and you let out another sigh as you did your best to ignore your aching clit as Jisung fell asleep next to you.

#stray kids smut #stray kids jisung smut #jisung smut #han jisung smut #han smut #jisung x reader #han x reader #kpop smut #stray kids oneshot #han jisung oneshot #kpop oneshot #smutmas #smutmas 2019 #h.js

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goldencuffs · 4 years

Note

I'M HORRIBLE AT PROMPTS. laurent trying to do something really nice for damen&it kind of goes to hell but damen loves him so much&can't quit loving on him for it all? or laurent goes to some university&everyone thinks he's gorgeous but he's kind of a bitch&when he tells them he has a boyfriend everyone is like yeah right then damen comes to pick him up, looking hotter than anyone has any right to be&laurent melts with him? i'll read literally anything you write, it could be a n y t h i n g

@marrieddorkss im so so so sorry this took so fucking long lmao my god. im a mess. hopefully you still like it?? and it isnt such a fucking disaster lol??

Summary: Laurent decides to do something nice for Damen – and then immediately regrets it.

When Laurent comes back from his last class of the day, it’s to find Damen standing outside his dorm room, wearing a nice, oversized tank top and fraying shorts. The duffle bag by his feet is packed full; Laurent can see the sides of it are lumpy.

“Hey.” Damen’s smile is pleasant. It transforms his face and makes him look younger, despite the stubble growing across his face.

Laurent smiles too. “Hello,” he says, and when he’s close enough, he rests his hands on Damen’s hips and goes on his tiptoes to kiss his nose.

Damen’s smile widens, the creases by his eyes deepening. He scans Laurent’s face intently. “I’m guessing that your presentation went well?”

“It went well,” Laurent says. He pauses. “Actually, it went very well. I managed to answer every single question at the end.”

Damen wraps his arms around Laurent’s shoulders in a tight squeeze. “Fuck yeah!” He cheers. His enthusiasm is genuine, and it makes Laurent’s face heat.

“It’s not that big of a deal – I’m sure there are other people who did way better.”

“Stop that,” says Damen. He kisses Laurent’s forehead. “You killed it; I know you did.”

Laurent doesn’t answer. He just tips his head up in a silent request. Damen’s smile softens around the edges, and then he leans down to kiss Laurent fully on his mouth.

The kiss heats up quickly, as usual. Damen licks inside his mouth with vigour, his hand moving down Laurent’s back to grip his ass. Laurent moans into it, tugging on the front of Damen’s shirt to pull him closer.

Damen’s cock is already hard; it presses up against the inside of Laurent’s thigh in a slow, teasing drag. Laurent shifts his own hips forward, his body tight with anticipation.

A door slams shut at the end of the corridor and Damen detaches himself from Laurent in a measured pace, realising at the same moment Laurent does, that they’re in a very open, public setting.

“Come inside,” Laurent tells him.

Damen squeezes his ass again. “Here?” His smirk is sharp and arrogant.

Laurent hates how much he likes it.

He doesn’t let Damen know that though; instead, he rolls his eyes and drags Damen inside to his dorm room. It’s far from its usual pristine condition; Laurent hasn’t made his bed in a week, his dirty clothes are in a pile by the door and his desk is overflowing with papers, textbooks and plastic wrappers from food he’s bought lately.

Laurent grimaces at the mess. Damen doesn’t seem to mind, or even acknowledge it; he flings himself onto the single bed with as much ease as he can, hauling his duffle bag up with him.

“What’s in there?” Laurent asks.

The duffle bag is an expensive, leather one. For years, it had sat alone and dusty in the Revere’s garage, until Laurent had gifted it to Damen over the summer. Now, it’s used constantly; Damen takes it with him to classes and football practice and is rarely seen without it. He takes good care of it too: he diligently cleans it once a week and keeps it stored in his closet, away from sunlight.

Damen waggles his eyebrows in response to Laurent’s question. He sits up again and opens it with an exaggerated amount of fanfare, slowly inching the zipper in small tugs.

It’s amusing; it shouldn’t be, but almost everything Damen does makes Laurent laugh. He likes that.

Inside the lining of the bag, the tag is visible. It used to simply read ‘Revere’, but someone – probably Nikandros – has added, with marker, an apostrophe and the word ‘bitch’, so the entire thing says: ‘Revere’s bitch’.

Laurent also likes that.

Laurent doesn’t focus too long on the tag. The contents of the bag are much more appealing: there’s an assortment of treats packed haphazardly inside. Laurent can see chip packets, chocolate, tubs of ice cream and a four pack of Krispy Kreme donuts.

Laurent taps the lid of one of the ice cream containers; it’s sea salt, his favourite. “Did you rob a grocery store? Is this your first step into the tantalising world of crime?”

Damen’s shrug is uncharacteristically shy. His fingers are still toying with the zipper, but he still manages to look Laurent in the eye as he says, “They’re for you. I figured – depending on how your presentation goes – they’d either be celebratory snacks or conciliatory ones.”

Laurent smiles. There’s a sudden, pressing warmth in his chest. “Really,” he says, touched.

Damen is still shy; it’s a strange yet endearing look on him.

Laurent’s smile doesn’t waver. He pushes the duffle bag a little, so it ends up against the wall, rather than between them. He crosses the now empty space, shifting closer to Damen until Laurent manages to straddle his lap, knees digging into the hard mattress below.

He presses a soft kiss to the corner of Damen’s mouth. He keeps his mouth there, against the stubble across Damen’s jaw, and says: “Thank you. I love how thoughtful you are.”

Damen swallows, eyes darkening. His hands rest on Laurent’s hips. His touch is deceptively light.

This time, Laurent initiates the kiss. He keeps it slow, the way he favours, and Damen lets him. His hands begin to wander over Laurent’s body; even when they’re not fucking, Laurent has come to learn that Damen likes to touch him constantly.

When Damen’s hands settle on Laurent’s ass once more, Laurent shifts his hips a little. Damen’s other hand drops to cup Laurent’s ass cheek.

Laurent’s gasp is a quiet sound; most of it is swallowed by Damen’s mouth.

They begin a slow, steady rut. It reminds Laurent of the first time they did this, a few months ago in a secluded booth in Route, the small club down the road from their campus.

Laurent didn’t know Damen too well at the time, but he was always petering around the Student Life office, where Laurent had been volunteering on and off throughout the semester. He wasn’t sure what Damen did there: sometimes he volunteered to help with administrative tasks, but mostly, from what Laurent saw, Damen seemed to just want to hang around him.

They formed a tentative, shallow relationship that consisted of very poor flirting on Laurent’s part and a lot of unprecedented confidence on Damen’s.

It was obvious to everyone how much Damen wanted to fuck Laurent; he always looked half crazed every time Laurent so much as looked at him. Laurent found that he didn’t exactly mind it; Damen was attractive, receiving his attention was heady, and it wasn’t as though Laurent was swimming in proposals.

So, when Damen had asked him to hang out at Route with him on a Saturday night, Laurent had said yes, fully expecting the outcome of the evening.

Still, Damen had seemed surprised when, after two drinks, Laurent climbed into his lap. Their first kiss had been relatively innocent: just a short, chaste peck. Then Laurent, spurred on by the alcohol, deepened it. Damen responded eagerly, pulling closer Laurent and licking into his mouth with a shocking amount of indecency.

After a while, he’d pulled back. His eyes had been so dark, and he’d gazed at Laurent with awe.

Laurent had said: “If you’re going to keep looking at me like that, you might as well just fuck me here.”

Damen had inhaled sharply; even with all the noise around them, Laurent still managed to hear it.

Twenty minutes later, Laurent had been pressed down into his mattress as Damen licked him open for his cock.

As he’d pushed into him for the first time, Damen panted into his ear, “Fuck, I don’t usually do this on a first date.”

Laurent had laughed.

Afterwards, Laurent had thought he wouldn’t see much of Damen anymore. He knew how one night stands worked. He suspected that now that Damen had been inside him – more than once, actually – he would stop loitering around the Student Life office.

That didn’t happen. Instead, Damen seemed more persistent to hang around Laurent. Laurent let it happen. By this point, he’d grown fond of Damen, the way someone might feel fond over a stray puppy that constantly showed up at their door.

Besides, as the weeks wore on, Laurent discovered that as well as being extremely sexually compatible, Damen and he were also compatible outside of bed; they became fast friends, much to the bemusement of everyone else.

It’s amazing how far they’ve come, Laurent thinks. He doesn’t think he’s been so comfortable with anyone in his entire life.

Now, in the silence of his bedroom, Damen’s lips drag across Laurent’s neck. Laurent shivers, fingers running over Damen’s shoulders. He’s careful as he tugs off Damen’s shirt. Damen’s chest is marvellous – it’s all sculpted pecs and hard planes. There’s a tattoo of a lion roaring on his right pec. It’s the most obnoxious thing Laurent has ever seen, and the first time Laurent had seen it, he’d licked it. He might’ve felt stupid about it at the time, but that feeling quickly evaporated when Damen’s hips stuttered, and he’d spilled his release inside Laurent.

Once Damen’s shirt comes off, the need to get naked becomes a priority for both of them. Damen rolls Laurent onto his back after Laurent takes off his own shirt, mouthing over his collarbone, his nipples, his bellybutton, and then his hipbone.

Laurent is quick to unbuckle his belt when Damen kisses the waistband of his jeans.

Damen is always meticulous in preparing him. It doesn’t matter if it’s been five minutes or five days since they last fucked, Damen never rushes. Laurent’s given up on trying to coax him to be faster.

Laurent’s knee jerks a little when Damen’s fingers, covered in cold lube, circle around his rim in sure strokes. Damen kisses the inside of his thigh, then the crease of his groin as Laurent pants. When his finger breaches Laurent, Laurent turns his head into the pillow, moaning against the silk fabric.

“Please,” he says quietly, and Damen groans, long and loud. He likes it when Laurent begs, a fact that makes Laurent flush.

Damen continues fingering him. The sounds are disgusting, wet and sloppy. Laurent doesn’t understand why he likes it so much.

Finally, finally, Damen pulls away. Laurent’s fingers twist the bedsheets in anticipation. He knows he’s flushed all over; he can feel the colour vining across the bridge of his nose and down his chest.

Damen’s cockhead drags down his crease. It makes Laurent delirious.

“Yeah?” says Damen. His hand grips the base of his cock and his eyes are fixed on Laurent, like he can’t bear to look away. Laurent knows the feeling; Damen looks so good like this.

“Yes,” says Laurent, in Veretian.

That makes Damen groan again. He only gets louder as he pushes into Laurent. Laurent’s eyes go cross eyed at the initial stretch. He loves this: the initial pain of Damen’s cock entering him.

“God, Laurent.” Damen grunts as he starts thrusting, biting down on the column of Laurent’s neck.

“Yeah, fuck me,” Laurent says. His hands slide down Damen’s sweaty back. “Harder – please, I need it.”

“Fuck,” Damen gasps as he complies. He lifts his head from the crook of Laurent’s shoulder and kisses him.

Laurent keens into it. He wraps his legs around Damen’s waist, murmuring encouragements in Veretian against Damen’s mouth.

Damen’s thrusts start to get shallow; his rhythm isn’t synced, but it still makes Laurent’s toes curl.

“Good?” Damen says. His biceps are straining with effort.

“You know it is,” Laurent says.

“I like the confirmation,” Damen says with that terrible smirk, and Laurent closes his eyes and lets himself take it.

Damen comes first. He’s loud when it happens; Laurent is sure his neighbours hate him.

His cock is straining against his stomach when Damen pulls out. Laurent flushes when he feels the wetness inside him, and he darkens further when Damen pulls his ass cheeks apart, watching in awe as his come dribbles out of Laurent’s hole.

“Don’t touch your cock,” says Damen.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Laurent arches his back when Damen’s mouth seals over his hole.

Damen slips his tongue in easily, licking into Laurent with enthusiasm. Laurent shakes under his grip. Damen’s stubble rubs against his skin, and Laurent knows it’s steadily pinkening.

He feels on edge. His cock is so hard it hurts. He pulls on Damen’s curls desperately, and Damen buries into him deeper.

Laurent’s mouth falls open. His quiet panting fills the room, joining the cacophony of sounds Damen’s mouth produces as he eats him out.

Laurent feels like crying. He almost asks Damen to stop because it’s too much, too much, too much.

Then Damen slows down to short, tiny licks. When he resurfaces, he gives Laurent a filthy wink. His chin is wet.

Laurent comes.

Every Thursday, Laurent and Damen have lunch at a small brunch place just outside campus. It’s usually packed, but Damen always manages to secure them a table. Laurent suspects this is because Damen has slept with one of the baristas. Damen has never explicitly denied this detail.

Today, their table is outside, along the gravel path leading to the campus gardens. The weather is nice; a rarity in Marlas, and Laurent enjoys the sunshine on his face.

Initially their weekly lunch meetings had been a habit borne out of practicality: last semester, one of the only days they could meet up was on Thursday mornings. After a good, thorough fuck, Damen always needed a cigarette, and Laurent always got hungry, so their solution was to head out to this particular brunch place.

Now, though, it’s become a fixed tradition between them. Damen also refers to it as their place – which Laurent still doesn’t quite understand.

Damen orders his usual – the everything breakfast – and Laurent, pleasantly reminded of this morning’s activities when he moves in his seat, decides to order the same thing.

Halfway through their meal, they’re interrupted by Nikandros, one of Damen’s teammates. Nikandros is wearing his letterman jacket, but he shrugs it off as he pulls up a seat at their table. He steals a chorizo sausage off of Laurent’s plate, despite Laurent’s protests.

Nikandros starts talking to Damen about the statistics of their latest game while Laurent finishes up his food. Once he’s done, he pulls out his pack of cigarettes. He manages to finish half of it; he offers Nikandros the rest. Nikandros eyes fall on the cigarette, then Laurent’s mouth, before he forcibly tears his eyes away and shakes his head.

He addresses Damen again, his voice slightly hoarse, “Hey! I just remembered – guess who I saw coming out the law library today?”

“Who?” Damen takes Laurent’s cigarette.

Nikandros pauses for dramatic effect. His smirk is not as attractive as Damen’s. “Lykaios.”

Damen drops his cigarette. He doesn’t pay it much mind; instead, he leans forward in his seat, eyes alight. “Wait – seriously? You’re not messing with me?”

“Nah,” Nikandros shakes his head, looking pleased. “Asked her what she’s doing here, apparently she’s starting postgrad law this semester.” Nikandros pauses again. “Like you.”

“Wow.” Damen’s expression is brittle with disbelief. “What are the chances?”

“Seems like fate.”

“Who’s Lykaios?” Laurent asks.

“Oh,” says Damen. “She’s an old friend from when I still lived in Ios.”

“A friend,” says Nikandros. His expression is amused. “Oh, come on, you two were practically together.”

“That’s not true,” Damen says quickly. He casts Laurent a reassuring look. “It honestly isn’t.”

Laurent doesn’t understand why Damen is being so defensive; it’s not news to him that Damen has been with other people.

“You were pretty much in love with her, dude.” Nikandros picks a sausage off Damen’s plate this time.

“Oh,” Laurent says before he can help it. The statement takes him by surprise. One of the first things Damen had told him when they’d first started hooking up was: I don’t know what it’s like to be in love. In the stillness of the night, Damen had been vulnerable and open; it was the first time Laurent realised the person in his bed might be more multifaceted than he let on.

“No,” Damen gives Laurent another reassuring look. His foot presses against Laurent’s underneath the table. “I wasn’t.” His voice is firm. “There was a time I thought I was, but I was wrong.”

Nikandros clearly doesn’t believe him. He rolls his eyes and utters a small, “Whatever.”

Laurent pulls out another cigarette, thinking.

Later that night, Laurent is contemplative. It’s late: almost two in the morning and the rain outside is a welcome, soothing noise.

Laurent is so sore, he almost regrets the last round, as short as it was. It doesn’t keep him from draping himself over Damen’s chest, fingers lazily tracing over the tattoo on his pec.

Damen keeps running his fingers through Laurent’s sweat soaked hair, his fingernails gently scratching against his scalp. It’s so relaxing, Laurent feels like he could fall asleep like this. Practically, he knows he shouldn’t: there’s dry come on his stomach and between his thighs. He’s also sweaty, and Damen is too.

But instead of getting up, Laurent asks into the stillness of the night: “What is she like?”

Damen jerks a little; his eyes have been closed for a while now.

“Hm?”

“Lykaios,” Laurent says. “I want to know what she’s like.”

There’s a small pause. Damen shifts again. “Why?”

“I don’t know. It seemed like she means a lot to you – and I’m interested.”

“She meant a lot to me. As in, past tense.”

“It didn’t seem that way during lunch,” Laurent points out. He doesn’t know why Damen is being so evasive and why it’s bothering him so much. “You seemed excited to hear about her.”

“Well yeah,” Damen says. In the darkness, it’s hard to read his usually expressive face, but Laurent can still sense a growing tightness in Damen’s body. “But that’s only because it’s been a while since any of us have heard from her. She sort of disappeared after first year.”

Laurent pinches Damen’s bicep. “Tell me.”

Damen sighs. He rolls over, so Laurent is unfairly jostled aside. He turns on the lamp on the bedside table. As the room is washed in a dull yellow light, Laurent can see how matted Damen’s hair has become, as well as the fingernail indentations along his shoulders.

“There’s honestly not much to say,” Damen says. His voice is very quiet, mindful of the neighbouring dorm rooms. “We were family friends for years, and in my senior year I realised I liked her a lot – more than I thought I did. But she had a boyfriend, so I never did anything about it. And then she dumped him because she liked me, but this time I was seeing someone. So, in the end, nothing happened.”

“That’s it?” Laurent frowns. In his mind, he keeps replaying Damen’s reaction at lunch; surely, there must be more to the story. Damen huffs. It almost seems like he’s pouting. He pokes Laurent’s stomach, hard. “You’re being very annoying.”

Laurent swats his hand away. “Are you still in love with her?”

“I already told you I never was. I just thought I could be because I was a horny eighteen year old.”

That makes Laurent laugh. It’s an unintentional sound, but it makes Damen smile.

“I’m not interested in anyone but you,” Damen says, too sincerely. The words hang heavy in the air.

Laurent doesn’t know what to make of it – not just the words, but Damen’s tone as well. It makes his stomach clamp up. He thinks Damen is making a point about how attractive he finds Laurent; in bed, the subject of Laurent’s body is always a welcoming topic.

So, Laurent says, a little awkwardly, “Thank you.”

Damen snorts. He looks fond. He kisses Laurent, and Laurent gladly welcomes it.

It’s a slow, sensual kiss. Damen keeps mapping out Laurent’s body with his hands, fingertips tracing over the veins across Laurent’s wrist, his chest.

“Think you can go again?” Damen says against his mouth. Pressed to each other like this, Laurent can feel Damen’s erection. It’s hot, he thinks to himself, how Damen physically reacts to him, even when Laurent hasn’t done anything to particularly excite him.

He’s still sore, sweaty and gross, but Laurent says: “Yes.”

Laurent is late to his study session with Damen on Wednesday. They normally don’t study together; tonight is an exception. Damen is apparently tired of being cooped in his room alone as he pours over his essays.

Outside the study room, Laurent pauses. Through the clear glass, he can see Damen is already seated, textbooks placed carelessly over the wooden tabletop. But he’s not alone. There’s someone seated on the edge of the table, in the one corner free of Damen’s things.

It’s Lykaios. Laurent knows it must be; Damen’s face is exuberant, creased with warmth. His smile is filled with teeth, white and straight, and there’s a lingering softness there. Laurent’s chest clenches with a foreign feeling. He’s unsure what it is, but then deduces it must be relief at seeing Damen so happy.

Laurent almost turns back. He wants to give Damen and his not-quite ex-girlfriend time to catch up. The thought of intruding on them with his presence fills him with anxiety. But he remains rooted on the spot because, for some strange reason, the thought of leaving them alone also fills him with anxiety.

Luckily – or perhaps, unluckily; Laurent still hasn’t made up his mind – Damen spots him through the glass. His smile, now directed at Laurent, changes instantly; it dissolves into a steady kind of fondness. His eyes seem to shine brighter.

It completely baffles Laurent.

His chest tightens again; this time, it’s much more pleasant.

Laurent supposes he should enter now. Damen seems to have forgotten about Lykaios; his eyes remain on Laurent as Laurent fumbles with the doorknob and steps into the room.

“Hey,” he says. His smile – and voice – wobble. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Damen’s smile, impossibly, widens even more. Laurent’s gaze is helplessly drawn to it.

They stare at each other for a few moments longer than necessary until Damen seems to remember they’re not alone. He fumbles over the introductions, face flushed.

Lykaios is unbelievably gorgeous. Like most Akielons, she’s very tall; even wearing flats she’s a few inches taller than Laurent. Laurent tries not to be bitter about it. Her hair isn’t as blonde as Laurent’s, but it’s long and shiny. Her eyes are amazing; long lashed and an intriguing colour, somewhere between green and blue.

Standing next to Damen, the two of them look like a regal painting. They look good together. They complement each other.

Laurent – unexpectedly, painfully – feels inadequate.

Lykaios rounds the table and shakes Laurent’s hand with vigour. Her smile is kind and open; her enthusiasm is genuine. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! Damen has managed to mention your name about a hundred times in the last half an hour.”

Damen flushes at that, suddenly busying himself with rearranging his textbooks.

Laurent smiles. He can feel the heat travel across his face. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting your study session.” Her voice is so sweet, Laurent thinks he could listen to her talk all day. “I was literally just walking past and saw Damen in here. I almost couldn’t believe it.” She turns to Damen and gives him in an assessing look. “It’s been what – six years?”

“Fuck off,” Damen says, with little heat. “I don’t want to be reminded of how old I am.”

Lykaios laughs at that. Her laugh is sweet too.

Laurent says, “You guys will probably see more of each other now. You’re in the same course, right?”

Lykaios beams. “Yep! Another weird coincidence.”

“Or fate,” Laurent points out.

Damen gives him a strange look. “Definitely just a coincidence.”

“Ah, who knows the mysterious ways of the universe,” says Lykaios. She gives Laurent a wink.

Laurent decides he likes her, despite the twisting in his gut.

It’s why he says: “Did you want to stay and study with us? We were also going to grab some dinner afterwards. You could join us for that too.”

Damen gives him another strange look; this one is brittle with disbelief.

Laurent ignores it. He keeps his eyes on Lykaios, who smiles at him.

“Thank you for the very kind offer, but I’ve already got plans tonight, I’m afraid.” She seems genuinely sorry, and it makes Laurent like her even more.

“Maybe next time,” Laurent says.

Damen frowns.

Lykaios doesn’t stay too long after that; she claims she needs to start getting ready for her night out. When she leaves, she kisses Damen’s cheek. Laurent bristles a little at that.

But his annoyance morphs into pleasantness when she hugs him goodbye – like Damen, she is very touchy, Laurent notices.

As soon as the door closes behind her, Damen kisses Laurent, hard and open mouthed. It’s a terrible kiss; Laurent isn’t expecting it, and he almost topples backwards with the force of it. Then he starts laughing, so Damen’s mouth mostly meets his teeth.

The second one is much, much better.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for the past ten minutes,” says Damen. “Next time, kissing first, and then we move on to having a conversation.”

“Shut up,” says Laurent. He pulls out his textbooks, trying not to laugh. After a few moments, he says, “She seems really nice. I can see why you liked her so much.”

He imagines Damen at eighteen, maybe a little naïve and cocky, completely enamoured by Lykaios’ sweetness.

Damen rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” He squints at Laurent. “You’re not still hung up on that are you?” His mouth deepens into a smirk. He waggles his eyebrows. “Need me to prove my loyalty, baby?”

Laurent flushes. It’s not the first time Damen has used that endearment – he mostly says it in bed – but it still catches Laurent off guard every time.

His mouth is suddenly very dry. The only thing he can manage to say is: “Shut up.” And then he gets to work, smiling into his shoulder when Damen’s foot wraps around his underneath the table.

Lykaios’ Instagram is an explosion of colour: she likes wearing a lot of red and green and purple. Her entire profile is filled with her travels, charity work, her friends, and some shots of her eyelids coated in glitter. The more Laurent scrolls, the more careful he is not to like anything.

There are plenty of pictures of her from high school; Damen is in most of them, fresh faced and youthful. It’s strange to look at: nothing about Damen is boyish, but these pictures prove otherwise.

Laurent comes across a photo of Lykaios and Damen from six years ago. In it, Damen has his arm around her waist while Lykaios rests her head on his shoulder.

The caption is: hbd to this guy aka my soulmate #finally18

Soulmate, Laurent thinks. His mouth purses.

Damen’s comment is the first comment. It reads: love u ly!

Laurent puts his phone down.

His thoughts come too fast: he starts to think of all the ways Damen and Lykaios fit together, how connected they seemed even after so much time apart. He thinks of how nice they looked together.

Then, Laurent starts thinking of all the nice things Damen has done for him over the last few months. The duffel bag full of his favourite snacks comes to mind, as does the time Damen took him to a fancy restaurant when Laurent had averaged a high distinction last semester. Damen had even driven him almost forty minutes to the dentist once, even though he had an assessment due in the afternoon.

Damen is always doing nice things for him, and Laurent realises, guiltily, that he’s never quite returned the favour. His own gestures have often been small and unnoteworthy; they’ve never possessed the grandeur of Damen’s actions.

Laurent knows exactly how to change that.

Laurent isn’t the most forthcoming person. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to gather enough courage to message Lykaios on Instagram. But once he makes it past his awkward introduction – hey this is laurent in case you don’t remember me – to which Lykaios had responded ofc i do silly!, their conversations are light and easy.

The more Laurent talks to her over the week, the more he’s convinced of his plan. Lykaios is everything Damen needs and vice versa. It’s crazy how similar their personalities are: they’re both incredibly sweet, intelligent and interested in almost all the same things, from okton to hiking.

The next week, Laurent invites Lykaios to his and Damen’s weekly lunch outing.

Damen smiles when he sees him. He doesn’t lose the smile on his face when he sees Lykaios, but his eyes snap to Laurent’s in confusion.

“This is a nice surprise,” he says, although his tone is dry.

Laurent pretends not to notice it. Lykaios kisses Damen’s cheek in greeting and Laurent scratches at his chest as he sits down.

Damen leans over the table to kiss him, but Laurent quickly picks out the menu and starts to read it, even though he’s practically memorised it by now. He doesn’t want Damen to kiss him now – especially in front of Lykaios – and ruin his plan before it’s had the chance to even formulate.

When he puts the menu back, Damen is openly frowning.

It disappears as Lykaios begins talking. The transformation is amazing; Damen is instantly captivated by her. Laurent swallows. This is good, he reminds himself.

Laurent waits about ten minutes. He’s started to notice that even though Damen is laughing along to all of Lykaios’ jokes, he’s still shooting Laurent glances every few seconds.

The question on his face is clear: why is she here?

Laurent plays with his phone for a while. He tries to make it look like he’s texting something important; he keeps his brows furrowed in concentration.

Laurent isn’t the best actor, but even he’s proud of himself as he lets out a small gasp.

“What is it?” says Damen, instantly alert.

“Nothing,” Laurent waves him off. “It’s just that I completely forgot I had a study session right now.” He stands up, grabs his bag. “I should go.”

“Wait –” Damen’s face pinches. “You’re leaving?”

“I’m sorry, but this is really important.” Laurent turns to Lykaios and smiles. “You two stay and have fun.”

“But –”

“Bye!” Laurent says it too enthusiastically, cutting Damen off. He walks out of the brunch place with hurried steps. He turns back at the end of the gravel path just to check if –

His chest tightens with pleasure – yes, pleasure, although he’s not sure why it doesn’t feel like it – when he sees his absence has made little disturbance. Damen and Lykaios are laughing together, mouths open in delight.

Over the next few days, Laurent organises more and more outings with Damen and Lykaios. Damen never seems to stop looking confused whenever Laurent invites Lykaios, but he also seems happy to see her, so Laurent counts it as a win. During each outing, Laurent manages to come up with a different excuse each time as to why he needed to leave early. Damen always looks disappointed. Laurent is weak for it; he can’t count how many times that look has almost made him stay, but he doesn’t, because it would be detrimental to his plan.

Laurent makes sure to text Damen whether or not he enjoyed his time with Lykaios. Damen’s responses are pretty much the same every time: Yes, but it would’ve been better if you were there too.

It frustrates Laurent. Damen isn’t supposed to still be thinking of him while he’s hanging out with his potential soulmate.

Lykaios is the first to grow suspicious. She confronts him at the next outing. They’re in an idyllic little bar in the city, with a cosy atmosphere. It’s a perfect date venue.

Damen heads to the bathroom, and Laurent stands up, ready to leave, when Lykaios stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Laurent,” she says. “Is there a reason you keep depriving us of your company?”

Laurent manages a sheepish smile. He wonders if he should say anything at all. Then, he decides he should: he feels like Lykaios would appreciate his directive.

Laurent plays with the little sugar packets on the table. “I’ve been trying to get you and Damen to spend more time together. Alone,” he adds, when he sees her confusion.

“Why?”

“Well…” Laurent hesitates; he’s just now beginning to realise how awkward this is. “I think you two would be good together…romantically.”

Lykaios raises her eyebrows.

Laurent continues, fingers still fidgeting. “It’s just…Damen mentioned how much you two liked each other a few years ago. And I think Damen still regards you very highly. Plus, you two are so alike – I just think it makes sense.”

Lykaios’ eyebrows don’t lower, but she casts a backward glance towards where Damen has disappeared to.

“I can’t say I haven’t thought about Damen and I…” she begins, and Laurent’s gut twists with…relief? Yes, he’s sure it’s relief. It’s a good – great – thing that Lykaios is interested in Damen. “But I thought –” Lykaios pauses for a few seconds. “I mean, I was under the impression that you and Damen were together.”

Laurent laughs, and then he realises she’s being serious. “You – no. We’re not. We’re friends.” Friends who spent a lot of time sleeping together, sure, but Laurent doesn’t think mentioning that now will do him any favours.

Lykaios’ face instantly changes. Her smile takes up her entire face; it’s stunning. She’s stunning.

Laurent shifts in his seat. He clears his throat. “So – you…you want to date him?”

She flushes, and it only makes her look more beautiful. “Like I said…I’ve definitely thought about it.”

“Oh – good. That’s awesome. Damen will be so happy.” He stands up. “So, I’ll leave you two alone?”

Lykaios nods. “Thank you, Laurent.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He turns around to leave. Everything in his body is screaming not to.

He keeps reminding himself that he’s doing something nice for Damen: that Damen will appreciate the fact that Laurent set him up with someone like Lykaios, a brilliant woman he has a past with. His mouth is dry, and Laurent’s palms are suddenly sweaty. Briefly, he wonders if this is always what happens when people do nice things for another. If it is…he might have to limit his niceness.

Laurent doesn’t mean to start ignoring Damen’s calls or texts. It just happens. He isn’t in the mood to listen to Damen go on about Lykaios; Laurent already knows she’s amazing.

He’s also confident that they’re dating now – or at least getting there. Lykaios posted a lot of snaps from the last night Laurent left them alone, and all of them had been of Damen smiling, drinking, smirking at the camera. They’d been there until three in the morning; Laurent knows because he’d stayed up until then, refreshing his Instagram feed to see any updates on Lykaios’ story.

What had they even been doing for so long anyway? Damen had called him until eleven, before he presumably gave up. Had Lykaios pulled a move on him? Had they gone back to Damen’s room, fucked on his bed? Had Damen thought of how he’d fucked Laurent on that same bed just last week? Or had he been so consumed by Lykaios and her pleasantness that Damen hadn’t even thought of Laurent?

Laurent had had the worst night of sleep.

And then a few nights ago, Nikandros had posted an image of the football team hanging around at his dorm room. (Laurent vaguely remembers being invited to that). In the photo, Laurent’s eyes had immediately been drawn to Damen in the corner, his head bent down as he said something to Lykaios, who had been smiling widely. It had looked very intimate. Laurent had turned his phone off when he saw it.

Alone in his room, Laurent lies on his bed, heart constricting. He should be happy for Damen. It’s frustrating him that he isn’t. And worst of all, he doesn’t know why.

He thinks it might be because he’s gotten so used to having Damen around all the time. If Damen starts seeing someone, then he’d obviously start spending less time with Laurent.

Laurent doesn’t want Damen to spend less time with him. If anything, they should be spending more time together. He only sees Damen about four times a week! That’s too little. Laurent should talk to Damen about that. He should tell him, Damen, even though you have a girlfriend now, I still want you to spend all your time with me, and I still want you to take me to fancy restaurants and then fuck me hard when we get home.

Horrified, Laurent rolls over and screams into his pillow.

A few hours later, while Laurent is trying to clean out his desk drawers, there’s a knock on the door. It’s a rapid set of knocks, loud and urgent.

Laurent frowns. He opens the door and his heart jumps when he sees Damen there, wearing a shirt Laurent had gifted him in the summer. Damen’s face is annoyed; it’s not an expression Laurent has seen often on Damen - and even rarely directed towards him.

Damen pushes past Laurent into the room. He takes up most of the space in it. Laurent’s heart still hasn’t calmed down.

“Tell me,” says Damen.

“What?”

“Tell me what I did wrong. I don’t like this passive aggressive bullshit.”

“What?” Laurent says again.

Damen crosses his arms in front of his chest. “You haven’t returned a single one of my calls or texts. You don’t want to hang out with me anymore. And I waited all night for you to show up to Nikandros’ and you didn’t.” When Laurent doesn’t say anything, he presses on. “Well? What did I do to piss you off?”

“I – nothing,” Laurent shakes his head, shocked. “I’m not mad at you.“

"Please,” Damen scoffs. “You -”

"I’m not,“ Laurent says. “I was just giving you some space.”

”Space. Why?“

"Well…” Laurent finds himself hesitating. “So you and Lykaios can spend more time together.”

“Why the fuck would I want to do that?”

“Um. She didn’t tell you?”

Damen’s eyes harden. His mouth presses into a tight line. “Can you please just give me a straight answer?”

“I’m – I’ve been trying to set you and Lykaios up.” Damen’s mouth drops open. Laurent quickly adds, “I talked to her about it and she said she’s been thinking of dating you too! So you know…” He trails off weakly.

There’s a sudden, pressing silence. It engulfs the small space of Laurent’s room.

In a very quiet, measured voice, Damen says, “What makes you think I would want to date Lykaios?”

“She really likes you Damen. And I think you two would be a good match. I mean – you’re so compatible.”

“No.” Damen’s voice is hard. “I meant: why the fuck do you think I would want to date Lykaios when I’m already dating you?”

Laurent’s eyes widen. His breath stutters in his chest. There’s a strange ringing in his ears. “We’re not dating.” His voice is too quiet; he can’t bring himself to repeat himself any louder.

Damen’s eyes bulge. It would be a comical expression if the atmosphere in the room wasn’t so deadly.

“Not. Dating.” Damen repeats between his teeth. “You – You really believe that?”

Damen’s mouth loosens around the edges. He looks like he’s received the worst news of his life.

“I –” Laurent fumbles with his words. The back of his neck prickles with discomfort. “We’re friends.”

“Is that what we are?” Damen scoffs. “My mistake, then.”

Laurent still feels wrongfooted. It’s almost like he’s not even experiencing this conversation, just watching himself have it.

“I don’t understand,” says Laurent. “I was just trying to do something nice for you. I thought it’d be good for you if you had a girlfriend like Lykaios.”

“For fuck’s sake, Laurent.” All of Damen’s anger melts away. His tone now is sullen. “I’ve literally been obsessed with you for the last six months – are you seriously just realising this now?”

“I’m –” Laurent swallows. “But you’ve never asked me out or called me your…boyfriend.” His tongue dries up around the world.

“I asked you out to Route all those months ago!” Damen says.

“No. You said: ‘do you want to go out with me to –’” Laurent cuts himself off. Now that he thinks about it, he’s sure that Damen did ask him out on a date. He’d also said, I don’t usually do this on a first date while they’d been in bed together, hadn’t he?

The realisation stumps Laurent.

“Oh,” he says.

Damen sits down on the edge of the bed, groaning. He buries his head in his hands. “Oh my god, Laurent. How can someone so smart be so stupid?”

Laurent supposes he should feel offended by that. He isn’t, though, because he genuinely feels stupid.

“You still didn’t make anything official.” Laurent says after a while.

Damen looks up. “Fuck you.” His eyebrows furrow. “What was stopping you from asking me?”

“Why would I say anything?! I thought you were only interested in fucking me!”

Damen groans again. He sounds like he’s dying. “If that were true, then why would I –” He gestures around the room. Laurent knows what he means. He thinks of all the…dates Damen has taken him on, all the gifts he’s been given, the fact that Damen doesn’t leave his side when they go to parties together.

Laurent closes his eyes. This is too much. He’s shocked by the anger that overtakes him – anger at himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been.”

Damen looks at him steadily. He gathers his thoughts. “Do you still think I should date Lykaios? Because you seem pretty invested in the idea and I –” Damen sighs. “I don’t want to – I don’t think I can be with you if you don’t feel the same as I do.”

“How do you feel about me?” Laurent asks softly.

Damen’s gaze is burning. Laurent is pinned beneath it. “Laurent, I love you.”

Laurent gasps. It’s a soft sound, but in the stillness of the room it rattles against the walls. His throat closes.

When a few silent moments pass, Damen sighs. He stands up, mouth drooping and fingers tense by his thighs. “Alright…That’s.” He stops. He gives Laurent a small nod. “I’ll just go then.”

Laurent blocks his path with a shrill, “Wait!”

Damen stops.

Laurent’s fingers twitch. He wants to touch Damen. But he knows he should – “I don’t want you to date Lykaios. I don’t even know what the fuck I was thinking, alright? You just – you seemed so into her Damen, and I thought it would be nice if I did you a favour and set you up with her because you’re always doing nice things for me but then I got so sad and angry and confused every time you were together and then I felt guilty for feeling those things and I just –”

“Okay, slow down,” Damen’s hands grip his shoulders.

Laurent shakes his head. His chest is bubbling with all these emotions he’s refused to acknowledge. “I don’t want you to date Lykaios,” he repeats. “I want you to date me.” He pauses. “Only me.”

Damen snorts. “Easy. I’ve already been doing that.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t know,” Laurent says. His throat is still tight with emotion.

“We’ll work on communicating better,” Damen says. He peers down at Laurent until their eyes meet. “I only want you, Laurent.”

Laurent collapses into Damen. He buries his head against Damen’s chest, weak in his relief. He even sniffles a little, something Damen thankfully ignores. “I only want you, too.”

Damen’s body loosens; he exhales and squeezes Laurent in his embrace. He kisses Laurent’s temple. “That makes me so happy.”

“Me too,” Laurent says.

Guiltily, he thinks of Lykaios. He remembers her excitement at the thought of being with Damen. Laurent needs to make it up to her, somehow, if she’ll let him. Maybe he could buy her flowers? Laurent has never bought flowers for anyone in his life, but he thinks Lykaios might like roses – unless that’s too romantic? Or maybe he could –

“Hey,” Damen says, interrupting his thought process.

Laurent looks up at him. Damen’s smile is radiant; it’s all white teeth and creased eyes. “Yeah?”

“Do me a favour.”

“Anything.”

Damen kisses him. Laurent smiles into it as his entire body fills with an unparalleled warmth. He’s not sure if he loves Damen back…but he’s confident he’s getting there.

Damen pulls back. He assesses Laurent with a stern frown. “Don’t ever do anything nice for me.”

Laurent huffs. He hides his face in Damen’s chest again. “Shut up.”

#captive prince #this is 7.5k lol i dont understand the concept of a drabble clearly #please lmk if read more doesnt work i dont want ppl to scroll through such a long post #@marrieddorks im very sorry for this lol #my fic #my writing

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chiaki-translation · 4 years

Text

SR Taichi [8-bit Monsters]: Backstage Translation

Because Taichi’s still my priority. Well...

Summary: Taichi’s planning to do Real Life Pacman after the company’s addicted to Pacman Game.

Anyway, this time I’m talking about the Pacman Collaboration card, this one~ Took me a bit to get this card, but I’m pretty happy with it~ Translation is under the cut as always, enjoy~

Anyway, just something extra, I just realized, why do they look so similar?

Disclaimer:

A3! is owned by Liber’s Entertainment

Let’s Play with Real Ghosts

Taichi:

Alright, I cleared round10!

Muku:

Taichi-kun, that’s amazing.

I immediately got caught in between the red and pink ghosts.

Azami:

Ah, it’s that blue guy again.

I can’t read that guy’s movement.

Banri:

I’m home.

Taichi:

Ah, Ban-chan, welcome back!

Banri:

You guys, Pacman again huh.

Everyone’s perfectly absorbed in the Pacman Game.

Muku:

It’s my first time playing, but it’s so interesting!

Azami:

It’s simple, but it’s kind of addictive in its own way.

Banri:

I get what you mean.

Taichi:

The characters are very cute too!

Especially the enemy, I can’t get enough of those ghosts!

Muku:

Speaking of which, they’re kinda similar to Akapoyo-kun that Taichi-kun likes.

Taichi:

Ah, true that!

Azami:

Anyway Banri-san, you went to Pacman Shop together with Kazunari-san right?

Banri:

Yeah.

VR Pacman is pretty interesting.

Taichi:

Woah, that’s nice.

I’m jealous!

Banri:

Then, I’ll give this to you.

Taichi:

Clyde’s plush toy!

Thank you, Ban-chan!

Azami:

Clyde?

Banri:

It’s the ghost’s name.

It’s not only the colour, they each also have their own personality.

Taichi:

Yeah! This orange one is Clyde,he’s a trickster who likes to freely do anything he wants.

Muku:

Hee, he somehow reminds me of Misumi-san.

Taichi:

Misumi-san…

Ah! I got a great idea!

Banri:

Taichi:

Fufufu.

I have to think carefully about the casting, I’ll tell you about it later.

Azami:

Casting…?

Taichi:

Hehe! Look forward to it!

Taichi:

Right, the 4 important people are not here, but…

I think it will be fine if I discuss it with them later.

I have a proposal for everyone!

Sakuya:

Proposal?

Director:

What is it?

Taichi:

Let’s do real life Pacman in MANKAI dorm!

Itaru:

What do you mean by real life Pacman.

Taichi:

I have decided the 4 people to take the role of the ghost, the rest of the people will be running away to avoid being caught!

Kumon:

Amazing!

It’s like a game of tag, it sounds interesting!

Banri:

Rather than like, it’s more like it’s actually a game of tag isn’t it.

Muku:

So it’s this thing that Taichi-kun thought about just now.

Itaru:

It sounds exactly like the VR Pacman that I did earlier today, but…

Director:

Me, me too…

Taichi:

Of course, you’re free to choose whether you want to join or not!

Azami:

You said you thought about the casting earlier, so is it about the ghost role?

Taichi:

You heard correct!

I will announce the strongest ghost army I thought about!

Blinky, the red one, is the type that will stick to you and chase you around, so it will be Masumi-kun!

Itaru:

Masumi-kun’s stickiness only activates for Director-san though.

Taichi:

Pinky, the pink one, is the intelligent type, so it will be Chikage-san.

Inky, the blue one, is the fickle type, so it will be Hisoka-san!

Banri:

Well, they’re not wrong in terms of their characters…

Taichi:

And then, Clyde, the orange one, is a free spirited one who likes to do whatever he wants, so it will be Misumi-san!

How is it?

Sakuya:

Th, that’s an amazing member line up.

Azami:

The ghost have such good motor reflexes.

What happen to the game?

Kumon:

Impossible! I can never escape from them!

Muku:

It seems that everyone will get caught soon.

Itaru:

The game balance is pretty broken.

Try to debug and fix it first.

Director:

Have you discussed it with the people playing the ghost role?

Taichi:

I will tell them when they’re back!

Hehe, I’ll tell everyone again when the date’s been decided!

Look forward to it!

Chikage-san:

Sorry, my work’s dragged on so I will be slightly late.

Misumi-san:

I think I will be delayed by my part-time job too~

Hisoka-san:

I’ll be back soon.

Nanao Taichi:

Alright!

Taichi:

I wonder if everyone is willing to take the ghost role.

Oh yeah, if we’re talking about Pacman of course it will be cookies.

I got Omi-kun to bake a lot earlier…

Yawn… I’m getting sleepy.

I’ll take a nap, just a little bit--

Taichi:

Eh?

Did I fall asleep in the corridor?

--Hmm?

The cookies are falling. Ah, over there too.

It continues over…

Ghosts:

…

Taichi:

Woah, the ghosts are here!

Why!?

Blinky:

--,--

Clyde:

~~~!

Inky:

-.-.-.-

Pinky:

----

Taichi:

Uh, I don’t really understand what everyone’s saying…

Blinky:

--,--

Taichi:

It’s no use, as I thought I can’t understand you guys.

Even though I want to be friends with everyone.

If it’s possible, can you guys speak human words maybe…?

Ghosts:

…

*transform*

Taichi:

Eh!?

Masumi-kun and Chikage-san, then Hisoka-san and Misumi-san!?

Ah, but this way, I will be able to understand--

Masumi:

Chomp chomp.

Taichi:

Eh?

Chikage:

I’ll eat you.

Taichi:

Eh!?

Hisoka:

You can’t run away.

Taichi:

Wa, wait a minute…

Misumi:

I caught you!

Taichi:

Gyaaaaaaaaa!!

Troupe Members:

Don’t run away.

Taichi:

Uwaaaaaaaaa, but I’m your friend~!

Troupe Members:

Wait.

Taichi:

Everyone, open your eyes, uwaaaaah!

Director:

--kun.

Taichi-kun.

Taichi:

Ah, Director-sense!?

Director-sensei, help me~!!

Director:

Taichi-kun. Oi.

Taichi:

--Ah!

Ju, just a dream…?

Director:

Are you alright?

You looked like you were having a nightmare somehow…

Taichi:

Director-sensei!

I just saw a very bad dream~!

[

Choice 1: I’m glad I woke you up

Director:

I was wondering if it’s bad to disturb you when you’re sleeping, but I’m glad I woke you up.

Taichi:

Inside the dream, I managed to come back because I heard Director-sensei’s voice!

Director-sensei’s my lifesaver~!

Director:

Ahaha, was it such a scary dream.

]

[

Choice 2: You look like you’re suffering

Director:

Taichi-kun, you look like you’re really suffering.

Are you really alright?

Taichi:

I’m calmer now.

It was such a fun dream halfway though…

Director:

I see.

Ah, isn’t that a ghost plush toy?

Taichi:

Woah!

Director:

Wh, what’s wrong?

Taichi:

It, it, it’s nothing!

]

Director:

But why were you sleeping in such place?

Taichi:

About that, I was waiting for everyone to come back--

Chikage:

Taichi, sorry for the wait.

Masumi:

What do you want to discuss?

Misumi:

Is it about fun things~?

Hisoka:

…Zzz-

Taichi:

Hhh…!

Director:

Ah, Taichi-kun’s discussion, is it about the real Pacman…

Taichi:

It, It’s fine already, it’s nothing!

Masumi:

…I don’t care what it is, but get way from Director.

Taichi:

Hieeeeeeee!

I, I’m not tasty even if you eat me~!

Hisoka:

…He ran away.

Masumi:

I don’t get it.

Misumi:

Maybe he found a good triangle?

Chikage:

I don’t think that’s the case.

Director-san, do you know anything about it?

Director:

Well, who knows…

#a3!#a3! translation #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! backstage #a3! backstory #nanao taichi

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thesunwillshineonusagain757 · 4 years

Text

Reasons why I don’t like Beward/ Bedward/ Bellward

Not my gifs

Disclaimer: My intentions with this post are to expose what I thing about this ship . In no way, shape , or form do I intend to offend those who ship it . If you like it , who am I to tell you that you are a bad person for it , right ? But I wanted to put out there some of my thought so here it goes . ( and sorry this is a giant of a post )

He is old and she is underaged :

I know what you are going to say . But she isn’t underaged for the whole saga . But still he fell in love with a high schooler and he is safely more than 80, seeing that he says that Carlisle transformed him when he had got Spanish flu, and let me tell you . Spanish flu had three major waves , and the three of them were during the First World War so he was probably 20 when he was turned and he was turned in between 1914-1918 , that makes him at least 110 years old , and he is in love with an underaged school girl ... Let’s just say if he looked his age people would assume he had far different intentions with her .

Bella emotionally toys with both of the guys :

Then we will enter in this part of the conversation, Bella is a girl who literally has two supernatural beings at her feet, two men who claim themselves to be attracted to her, and Bella clearly decides very early on in being with one of the guys by the end of the first book, however, several times during the narrative of the series, she oscillates between the two even going so far as to ask that the other romantic interest kisses her when she is clearly in a serious relationship with the other man. I font know about you but for me she is coming across as quite shady and not in the good way .

Edwars is always jealous:

It is no secret that half of the conflicts in the twilight series revolve around the love triangle, and the ultra-ciumese attitudes of vampire Edward. If I had to count the amount of times Edward expresses his extreme jealousy towards Bella because of her relationship with her friends , but specially mister Jacob the wolfboy , I wouldn’t have enough hands . In my opinion a good relationship is based on trust you trust your partner , you must trust the people you love . “If you love it set I free”. But that is quite the opposite what mister Cullen does . He is overbearing and seems to not know th definition of boundaries. You may thing it’s him just being old school but for someone who has been around for so long , he might have to change his mind a bit. You also may justify that by saying it’s just because he love her , but let me tell you many of the approaches he takes to ensure her “ safety” are very in line with the actions of abusers .

The lack of respect :

Edward stalks Bella, he breaks into her room unbeknownst to her and follows her to the city when she goes out shopping, clearly not respecting her personal space or respecting her privacy. His justification is that she is so hopeless that she cannot look after herself, showing that he doesn’t even respect her judgement as poor as it may be, he literally treats her as if her brains of made of gummy bears. True, he ends up saving her from being assaulted but that doesn’t justify the stalking in the first place. If anyone breaks into your house to watch you sleep, you fucking call the cops! That’s not romantic, it’s creepy as hell and motherfucking terrifying.

Edward makes decision Bella just tags along:

Talking about gummy bear brain , Edward makes some big ass decision without even consulting Bella first . For example he end their relationship , without an explanation , and totally ghosts her after that . But not limiting himself to that he also shoved her into a car on the first movie and drove away with her because he put her in danger in the first place . She couldn’t tell her family where she was , she couldn’t go home because he would let her and she was scared . That is some major red flangs you don’t do that because you love someone you do that because you see them as your property.

The need they have for each other :

Listen healthy relationships are based on the affection that you have for someone , but that affection cannot be as crippling as the one they have . That is not love it’s callled obsession and is as far from healthy as it could be . The line where he says “ you are my life now” just comes to show that those two do not have a healthy relationship where they can distinguish themself from their significant other. Where they have a personally that is fully developed and being in love with each other is not personally trait .

It is the perfect example of a toxic relationship being disguised as a romance story:

Let’s face the music , this relationship has to many signs and red flags , to be considered anything but a toxic relationship . Bella, the main character, displays three characteristics common to victims of violent relationships. The first and perhaps most obvious trait is her consistent low self-esteem. Bella constantly reminds herself that she's uncoordinated, unsocial, and unattractive, is that she is particularly attracted to men who are forbidden, she is thus drawn to the “ bad boy” , and third, and most unfortunately, Bella is simply excited by violence, aggression, and danger; she finds it all thrilling. Bella's attraction to anything dangerous is clear in many cases through her human life. She rides a motorcycle because of the danger. When Edward tells Bella that he'll literally kill anyone who tries to hurt her, she get’s attracted to the violent nature he has. She is exactly the type of person a abused or even worst a sexual predator would look for and as we already noted that Edward’s does not help his case , I kind of see a pattern here .

In conclusion :

I used to like this paring as a young , naive teen but as I grew old I came to see the treacherous nature of this type of relationships where , so many red flangs are so apparent. I’m not saying you are a bad person for shipping it , I ask that you try to read into the subtext and the clear and alarming signs, of this ship . I’m not asking for you to stop shipping it , only asking that you have more of a critical mind when you read , watch and dive into fandom .

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wistfulcynic · 4 years

Text

To Keep It All The Year (4 /4)

MERRY CHRISTMAS!! Okay, it’s a bit early, but have one anyway.

The final chapter of this Christmas tale for @katie-dub is basically just fluff and magic. Friends and family and Christmas parties and presents and happy endings. To be read wrapped in a warm blanket with a cup of tea. I hope you enjoy it!

SUMMARY: Killian Jones is a broken man, betrayed by everyone and everything he thought he could believe in. He’s all but given up on life until a fateful meeting with bartender Emma Swan and her son Henry gives him a reason to live again, and a chance to redeem his past.

All it takes is a little Christmas magic.

On AO3 | Tumblr: Part One | Part Two | Part Three

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ at @thisonesatellite who is incapable of not being the best.

Tagging all the folks from the last tag list, PLEASE do let me know if you want to be added or removed. @kmomof4 @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @darkcolinodonorgasm @snowbellewells @stahlop @mariakov81 @courtorderedcake @jonirobinson64 @tiganasummertree @ohmightydevviepuu @shardminds @jennjenn615 @superchocovian @teamhook

PART FOUR: THE END BEGINNING OF IT

The sun rises at 7.13 am on the 25th of December in the city where they live, but Henry, who normally needs to be prised off his pillows and hauled bodily from his bed, is up well before it. The eastern sky has barely begun to lighten when he comes flying into his parents’ room, leaping onto their bed and wiggling into the narrow space between them, his elbow digging into Killian’s stomach.

“Ugh,” Killian grunts, shifting to give Henry more room. “Lad—”

“Get up get up get up!” cries Henry, shaking Emma’s shoulder until she lifts her head from the pillow. “Santa came!”

“Did you go downstairs already?” groans Emma.

“I didn’t go all the way down, I just looked to see if Santa came. And he did! Get up, c’mon let’s go!”

“All right, all right,” says Emma, rubbing her eyes. “I’m awake.”

Henry scrambles over Killian and runs from the room, off to hover just on the edge of the landing quivering impatiently until the slowpoke grownups got their act together.

Emma whimpers and rolls onto Killian’s chest, nestling her face into the crook of his neck. “It’s so early,” she whines.

It’s not far off the time Killian would normally get up, making it a good hour and a half before Emma prefers to open her eyes. He strokes her hair sympathetically. “Christmas morning, love,” he soothes. “It’s only once a year. Tomorrow you can sleep as long as you like.”

“That doesn’t help me today,” she grumbles, and looks up at him with a still-sleepy smile. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he replies, kissing her softly. She hums in response and he pulls her closer.

“Are you guys coming?” shouts Henry from the landing, and Emma snickers.

Killian grins and combs his fingers through her hair. “Shall we go see what Santa brought?” he asks.

“The suspense is killing me,” she deadpans. She drops a quick peck on his lips then rolls out of bed, grabbing a fluffy bathrobe to slip on over her pajamas. Killian follows suit and they leave the room together, out to where Henry is dancing at the top of the stairs.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Go on down,” says Emma. “Carefully—” she calls after him as he leaps down the stairs three at a time.

When they get to the living room Henry is hovering between the stockings and the tree.

“Stockings first,” says Killian. “Then I think your mum and I are going to need some coffee before we open the rest.”

Henry carefully takes down the stocking labelled Emma and the one that says Killian, and hands each to the appropriate recipient before diving into his own. They are stuffed full of chocolate and socks as Christmas stockings tend to be, along with one or two more exciting items to make the rest worthwhile. “Ah, yes!” Henry cries, pulling out a Bumblebee transformer. “This is just the one I wanted!”

Killian and Emma exchange a relieved glance.

“Santa knows what you want,” says Emma, removing a small velvet jeweller’s box from her own stocking. Within is a silver locket containing a picture of Henry. She gasps and a soft smile curves her lips as she traces her finger over its delicate edge.

“Indeed he does,” Killian agrees, taking out the antique compass he’s been eyeing for the past few months in the window of a little shop near his work. He didn’t think Emma noticed.

He looks up to find her smiling at him, her eyes misty. “Since Santa’s not here, I might thank you for this instead,” she whispers, kissing him.

“Aye,” he growls against her mouth. “And I suspect he may have had some help procuring this compass.”

“I possibly passed on a suggestion or two,” she says.

Once the stockings are empty, Henry plays with his transformer while Emma makes coffee and Killian tidies up the first wave of present detritus. She returns with two steaming mugs and a glass of orange juice for Henry, and after all three have taken several strengthening gulps she takes Henry’s glass and gives him the go-ahead to attack the presents beneath the tree.

Henry makes sure to hand a present to each of them before diving into the largest one of his own, a wooden sled in an old-fashioned style that from his shouts of joy is also just the one he wanted.

When the presents have all been opened Emma goes to make some breakfast while Killian clears away the wrapping paper and other packaging and sternly ensures that Henry takes all his new toys, books, and other gifts up to his room and finds a place for them.

Breakfast is pancakes, sprinkled with little red and green M&Ms for Emma and Henry and plain for Killian, who protests that they’ve both already finished the chocolate in their stockings and that’s far too much sugar for first thing in the morning, Christmas Day or no. Emma and Henry exchange identical eye rolls and fill their mouths with huge bites of chocolate pancake as Killian sighs and cuts his into precise squares with exaggerated patience.

After breakfast Killian takes Henry to the park to try out his new sled and to give Emma time to take a nap and get ready for the rest of the day. The three of them are due at Belle’s at one for Christmas dinner. Belle insisted, though her apartment is much smaller than their house, saying that Ruby—her new roommate—has gone all-out with the Christmas decorations and she doesn’t want to waste them. She flushed pink as she said this, and Killian had to hide his grin. He has his suspicions about this ‘new roommate.’

The park closest to their house has a tallish hill with a smooth slope, perfect for sledding. It’s not too crowded, though there are a few other kids there giving their Christmas-present sleds a test run. Killian keeps half an eye on Henry as he chats to the other parents, marvelling a bit at how comfortable it feels even after all his years of minimal social interaction. Henry calls him and he allows himself to be cajoled into going down the hill on the back of the sled, doing his best to hold on as Henry steers them until they reach the steep dip at the bottom and overbalance, tumbling from the sled and into a snowdrift. He lands on his back and sinks into the snow with a groan, Henry’s shrieks of laughter ringing in his ears.

After Henry has gone down the hill and back up again to his satisfaction and is thoroughly snow-covered, they head home to find Emma rested and showered. She laughs when she sees them, brushes the snow from Killian’s hair and kisses the reddened tip of his nose as Henry peels off his snowsuit, then takes the boy upstairs to get him dressed and ready while Killian has a quick shower and gets ready himself.

He turns the water up as hot as he can stand to chase the chill from his old bones, filling the bathroom with comforting steam. When he gets out he swipes his hand across the foggy mirror and for the third year in a row stands in his bathroom on Christmas Day and takes a hard look at himself and his life.

There are more lines on his face than were there last year, he thinks, but they are lines drawn by laughter and softened by happiness, and though his hair continues to go greyer by the day if ever he dares complain Emma runs her fingers through it and tells him to stop moaning, there are people who would pay good money for highlights like that.

He no longer works at the bookshop. Instead he is the director of the community library which six months ago Emma inaugurated in the neighbourhood where they used to live, as part of her project to revitalise the area using her money.

“It’s just so much money,” she said to him with a small laugh one late winter afternoon not quite a year before. “I didn’t really understand how much until I tried to spend it. I bought everything I could think of and it’s barely made a dent. And I just—I feel like I don’t need it anymore. I have my house and my school all paid for, and a car and a college fund for Henry and some investments which just bring more in, and even if I set aside way more than I think I’ll need for savings and retirement and a nice vacation every year there’s still so much left.” She laughed again, with a slight manic edge.

“So what do you want to do with it, love?” he asked. “I sense you have ideas.”

“I do,” she replied. “One in particular that I’d like your opinion on. Not because I need your approval,” she said quickly, heading off his protest. “I just want to know if you think this is something I can do.”

He nodded. “Tell me.”

"At first I thought about giving it to someone else, or even several people. People I knew in our old neighbourhood, to help them escape that place the way it helped me. But then it occurred to me that it would be more useful to make the place somewhere people didn’t need to escape. That would help everybody.” She gave him a hesitant look. “What do you think?”

Killian smiled. “I think that’s an absolutely brilliant idea.”

“And you really think I can mange it?”

“Of course you can. You improve everything you touch, Emma. And I’ve yet to see you fail.”

With Killian’s support and the aid of some skilful research from Belle, Emma started a non-profit foundation for community development and revitalisation. The ink was barely dry on the official forms when she launched herself into her first project.

She bought out slum lords and renovated their properties, instituted rent controls and long-term tenancies, provided low-interest loan options to people who wished to buy their apartments, and set up co-ops so they could manage the buildings themselves. She offered initiatives to businesses who took over the empty shops and employed local people, and even larger ones to local people who wished to start their own businesses. She set up a fund for the neighbourhood schools for renovations and expansion and salaries for new teachers, free lunches for all students and enough school supplies so teachers never had to buy their own. She endowed a hospital.

Killian is so proud of her he can barely contain it.

The neighbourhood is still very much a work in progress, but slowly the vision of what it will be when all that work is done is starting to emerge. New shops and offices open almost daily. The streets are cleaner and the people on them smile when they pass each other, and say hello. A sense of community is beginning to form, one Killian can actually see growing stronger every day in his library among the patrons he has come to know by name. Once again, he reflects, Emma has saved a thing he thought unsalvageable. A broken old sailor one year, an entire neighbourhood the next. And that’s only the beginning.

The foundation has recently begun to attract attention from the press and subsequently, inevitably, from investors. Emma laughed at first and said she’s still trying to spend the money she has, but when Killian pointed out that with greater investment she could expand to other parts of the city she got a gleam in her eye that’s still there.

“Let’s get through stage one,” she said. “Then we’ll consider investors.” But Killian could see the cogs turning in her mind and he smiled to himself. There was no stopping his Emma once she got an idea in her head.

He realises he’s still standing in the bathroom staring at his reflection in the mirror and gives himself a little shake. Quickly he dries off and gets dressed in some soft woollen trousers and the new sweater Emma gave him for Christmas. She comes into the bedroom just as he’s pulling it on and when he tugs it over his head he sees her smiling at him.

“I knew that was just the right shade to bring out your eyes,” she says with satisfaction, brushing her hands across his shoulders and adjusting the collar of his paisley shirt.

“You have a good eye, love,” he says, catching her around the waist and pulling her close.

“I’ve still got to get dressed,” she protests feebly as he kisses her. “And if you mess up my hair I’ll have to redo it.”

“I like it best a bit messy,” he growls, brushing the golden curls aside so he can kiss her neck. She pushes at his shoulder but he can hear her breath hitching in her throat and he nips at her collarbone.

“Don’t you dare leave a mark,” she gasps. “I can’t wear a scarf with this dress.” He soothes the nip with his tongue and she sighs. “We’re gonna be late.”

Her fingers curl into his hair even as she speaks the words and he trails back up her neck to capture her lips in a kiss that has her moaning, and breathless when he finally breaks it.

“Well you’d better get a move on, then,” he smirks. “I’ll go make sure Henry’s ready.

A fluffy slipper hits the back of his head as he leaves the bedroom and he laughs all the way down the stairs.

—

They arrive at Belle’s slightly late. “I was just about to call you,” she says mock-severely as she opens the door.

“Sorry,” Killian says, kissing her cheek. “We got held up.”

“Hmmm,” says Belle, raising an eyebrow at the flush on Emma’s cheeks. “I bet you did. You remember Ruby.” She indicates the tall and gorgeous woman standing behind her and grinning ear to ear.

“Aye. Nice to see you again, lass.”

“And you.” Ruby curls the tip of her tongue around the corner of her lips as her gaze glides slowly down his body. “You look better every time I see you.”

He returns her expert leer with a very fine one of his own. “As do you,” he purrs, waggling his eyebrows. “That’s one hell of a dress.”

Belle and Emma observe this byplay with identical half-amused, half-exasperated expressions. “Are you done?” sighs Emma. “I want to see these Christmas decorations I’ve heard so much about, Ruby.”

“Well you’d better come in then.”

The little flat is indeed bursting with festive cheer, with a huge Christmas tree in one corner of the living room, tall enough that its star scrapes the ceiling and decorated to the hilt, and every available surface covered in glittering tinsel and blinking lights. There’s even a Santa in his sleigh with all his reindeer, hanging from the ceiling.

“Wow!” cries Henry “We have got to do this next year, Mom!”

“Um.” Emma exchanges a glance with Killian. “We’ll see, baby.”

—

“I know it’s a bit much,” Belle whispers to Killian a few minutes later as they sit together on the couch with Henry playing at their feet. Emma and Ruby are in the kitchen preparing some hot chocolate. “But Ruby’s never had a place of her own before and she was so excited to decorate I didn't have the heart to stop her.”

“Don't apologise, love,” he replies. “The decorations are charming, and so is Ruby.” He glances at her. “So, are you ever planning to tell me the truth about what’s going on with you two?”

She flushes. “There’s nothing going on, we’re roommates.”

“Roommates in the very literal sense of the word,” he retorts. “I had a peek in my old bedroom and it’s basically a glorified closet. If she’s sleeping in there I’ll eat my new sweater.”

“All right, okay, we’re together,” huffs Belle.

“Together together?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes. But it’s still really new and I don’t want to jinx it, so I didn’t say anything. To anyone, not just you.” She pauses and smiles a soft little smile. “I’m hopeful though,” she says. “It feels really right.”

He takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “I'm so glad,” he says. “You look happier than I’ve ever seen you.”

“Do I?”

“Aye, you do. And you’re wearing two shades of lipstick.”

—

They spend the afternoon and into the evening with Belle and Ruby, eating and drinking and opening presents, singing Christmas carols and catching up on the latest goings on in their lives. Killian tells stories from his library and Belle from her bookstore, Henry eagerly recounts what he’s learning in school, and Emma talks animatedly about her plans for the foundation in the new year. Ruby works in her grandmother’s diner, she tells them, a job she likes well enough, though she’s getting a bit frustrated with her granny’s old-fashioned style and looking for something new.

“Have you ever considered opening one of your own?” Emma asks her. “There’s a place not far from the library that would be perfect for a diner.”

Ruby’s eyes light up. “Are you serious?”

Emma digs out a business card from her bag and hands it to her. “Absolutely. Give me a call after the holidays and we’ll go have a look at it.”

As the evening progresses Henry fights valiantly to keep his eyes open but it’s a losing battle, and when he falls asleep curled up on the sofa with his head in Killian’s lap, Emma decides it’s time they went home and calls them a cab.

The ride is brief and quiet, the three of them cuddled up together in the back seat, and when they get home Killian carries a still-sleeping Henry inside and up to his bedroom. He gets the lad undressed and into his pajamas, tucks him into bed and presses a kiss to his forehead. Henry’s eyes blink open.

“Killian?” he says.

“Aye, lad.”

“Are we home?”

“We are. Go back to sleep.”

Henry yawns and snuggles deeper into his pillow. “Can we go sledding again tomorrow?”

“Yes, if you want.”

“And Mom can come too?”

“I’m sure she’d love to.”

Henry’s eyes drift shut and Killian begins to sneak away, stopping in the doorway when Henry calls his name again.

“Killian?”

He sighs. “Yes, Henry?”

“Are you gonna ask her soon?”

Killian thinks of the ring tucked away in the back of his sock drawer, awaiting its moment. “Aye, lad, very soon.”

“Do it soon,” says Henry, yawning again. “I want to call you Dad.”

He says that so casually, Killian thinks, like they aren’t some of the most precious words he’s ever heard. Right up there with the I love yous Emma used to whisper against his skin when she thought he was asleep, and the shy but certain one she finally said to his face. And soon, hopefully, her I do.

“I want that too,” he says gruffly. “Now go to sleep.”

He heads downstairs where he finds Emma with her stockinged feet up on the coffee table, lost in thought.

“Hey,” he says, stroking her hair. “I thought you were going to make some coffee?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “I was just thinking.”

He sits next to her. “About what, love?”

“Christmases past,” she says with a laugh. “About how different everything is now than it was just two years ago, and all the things that had to come together to make it possible. I mean, do you ever think about how unlikely it was that you and I met? Like all the little things that had to fall into place to bring us together?”

“Well, we were living in the same neighbourhood.”

“Yeah, but our paths never crossed until you came into the bar two years ago. Why did you go there that night when you’d never been in before?”

“I don't know really. I guess I never noticed it until then.” He frowns for a moment, remembering. “It was the wreath that did it.”

“The wreath?”

“Aye. There was a wreath, a Christmas wreath, hanging on the door. It caught my attention and I just decided to go in.” He’s about to mention the identical wreath he saw on the bookstore’s door the following year when Emma speaks.

“That’s so weird.” She shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’d forgotten until just now.”

“Forgotten what?”

“The Christmas party I was at last year, before I went to the bar and found you, there was a wreath there that caught my eye. It had cinnamon sticks on it.” She laughs. “You know how I love cinnamon, though usually I prefer it in my drinks and not on my walls.” Her laugh fades into a small frown. “I actually said that, now that I think about it, to this guy who was there. God, how did I forget about all of this?”

Killian feels himself go very still. “What guy?” he asks.

“I don’t know, I never got his name. He was a bit taller than you, curly hair. Eyes kind of like yours, that same light blue. Also an accent. He kind of reminded me of you, actually. Huh.”

Killian swallows. “What did he say to you?”

“Not much, just that cinnamon sticks on Christmas wreaths were pretty common in some places. I said it seemed like a waste of good spices and he laughed. He said he’d made that wreath himself and he’d take my advice into consideration in the future.” She shrugs. “I liked him, but it wasn’t a particularly profound conversation.”

She pauses then, the frown deepening between her eyes. “But then he—he gave me the weirdest look, sort of—fond, and sad. He said that some people believe cinnamon can be used to summon true love and I started to laugh, but then I was suddenly... overcome by the certainty that you were at the bar and that it might be my only chance to ever see you again. So I left the party and went to the bar and there you were. And then somehow I forgot all about all of this until you mentioned the wreath just now. How bizarre is that?”

“Very,” Killian croaks, his throat thick with unshed tears. He pulls Emma into his arms and holds her tight, too tightly probably but she doesn’t protest.

“Hey,” she says gently. “Are you okay?”

“Aye, love. Just thinking about how close we came to missing each other. It’s not a thing I really care to contemplate. If we hadn’t met I just—I don’t know where I’d be.” If I’d be.

“I know just what you mean.” Her arms tighten around him and they sit for a moment, wrapped in each other and in fate and love and magic.

Eventually they pull apart, with soft kisses and lingering touches to prolong the embrace. “Why don’t you go make that coffee,” he says, stroking her cheek with his fingertips. “I’ll get a fire started.”

“Okay.”

Killian watches until the kitchen door swings shut behind her and then he goes to the fireplace, sinks to his knees on the hearth and lets his head fall into his hands. He is shaking, almost sobbing, tears slipping from his eyes to roll slowly down his cheeks. Sad tears and grateful ones, salty and bittersweet, aching with both loss and joy.

Because he knows now who that florist was, in the little shop on the street he’s never been able to find again. He suspected before but now he’s certain. He has no notion of how or why, and he doesn’t care to find one. Killian has always considered himself a man of science and reason, but this he accepts on pure faith: That somehow, in some way his long-dead brother reached out and gave him the push he needed to pull himself together. To find love and friends and a new family. To save his life.

He remembers quite suddenly a line from one of his favourite books, one his brother used to read out loud to him each Christmas. “Heaven and the Christmas time be praised for this,” he murmurs, and it is truly a prayer. “I say this on my knees, Liam. On my knees.”

When Emma returns with the coffee the fire is crackling cheerfully and he is calm again. He takes the mugs from her and sets them on the table, then wraps her in his arms, resting his cheek on her hair.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he says.

She snuggles into his chest with a happy sigh. “Merry Christmas.”

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #captain cobra #captain cobra swan #captain book #red beauty #christmas #christmas magic #brothers jones #christmas fluff #super fluffy #and soft #and emotional #have tissues #to keep it all the year #profdanglaisstuff

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shikai-the-storyteller · 4 years

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WFC: Siege watch!

Part 1: Episodes 1, 2, and 3

[Part 2] (Linking because Tumblr isn’t even showing the post on my blog or on my dash 🙄)

As a side note: every single person in this fandom is horrible at tagging their spoilers, you guys really need to do a better job at that because I’ve got a bunch of blockers on and I was STILL almost spoiled multiple times. Come on you guys...it literally came out today, be better about this.

Alright going to try and keep expectations low because I feel like the target audience for this is G1 dudebros who take a series about transforming cars way too seriously, but I’m still cautiously optimistic because a friend vetted for the dudes working on this show so WE”LL SEE

Episode 1

Aw man there’s only 6 episodes??? Bummer, I wonder if they’re already working on Season 2 or if they’re going to see how this does and let it die in the water if it’s not popular enough.

Things I know going in: Skyfire / Jetfire is in this, Megatron has big lips, and Elita is in it. That’s literally it, I’ve managed to avoid spoilers thusfar (though a few of the promo images implied Skyfire’s a Decepticon, so you KNOW that’s gonna break bad eventually)

WHEELJACK Wednesday THURSDAY

OH MYG OSH IS THAT SKYWARP??? EXPECTATIONS ARE NOW SKY-HIGH

The transformation sequences look so reminiscent of those stop-motion videos people do of their Transformer toys transforming. This isn’t a dig at the animation style, I think that’s rather charming and I wonder if it’s intentional.

Wow Bumblebee sounds like a jerk. I’m instantly on-edge, please don’t make all the characters ~hyper-masculine mean guys who don’t know how to have fun or talk about their emotions~

“The Autobots aint paying you for attitude” YOU TELL HIM WHEELJACK

Yooo Velocitron exists!

Ahh so Bumblebee IS just a mercenary, not an Autobot

OHOHO HERE”S JETFIRE

Wow Jetfire you’re really going the bad dude route huh

Ayyyyyy there’s Starscream

YOOO THERE”S THUNDERCRACKER

Thundercracker I appreciate that you’re using fancy tech to identify wheeljack but his Autobot badge is literally Right There

WTF

WELL THAT DIDN”T LAST LONG HUH...that’s a bit disappointing

OH NVM THAT WASN”T A HEEL-TURN THAT WAS JUST A STRAIGHT UP “I”M THE BOSS” MOVE

huh so they’re making Skyfire the target of Starscream’s desire for power. hmm

WHY ARE YOU GUYS RUNNING JUST TRANSFORM INTO CARS unless they’re too low on energon to do it??

There he is...Mr. Big Lips

Well that’s a surprising take Megatron

Isn’t that Cybertron and Luna 1 in the sky though?? Are they on Cybertron rn or not??

Megatron’s voice is really throwing me off, if it weren’t for his helmet and color I’d really think that was Overlord

ITS TRUCK DAD

OHOHO HE SAID THE THING!!!!

Why does bumblebee have lips too

“What do you know of slavery?” Alright that line did make me go “OHHHH”

“Alpha Trion would be ashamed!” “Of us both, I think” ouch, but nice to see Alpha “Grandpa” Trion back in a series

Megatron PLEASE don’t say “I’m enjoying this, Prime” in that voice while I can hear Optimus groaning in the background

AYYY ELITAAAAAA

Why are the Seekers chasing these guys, who are running on foot, ON FOOT??? CHANGE INTO YOUR DANG ALT MODE

WHEELJACK SWORE

man I’m only like a few minutes in and I’m already bored. I’m going to watch the whole thing, but I feel like this is really lacking soul or personality so far. It very much feels like the script was written by people who aren’t familiar with these characters, so they’re writing them how they EXPECT them to sound, not writing them as they actually are. It’s more than a little disappointing, but this is only the first episode, so I’ll keep going and see if this is consistent throughout the series.

Oh man, just listening to Elita you can tell she was written by a dude. Oof.

There’s the Ark!

Dang everyone’s running low

Jeez Optimus and Elita wouldn’t just walk by all these injured Autobots!

And Optimus wouldn’t brush off his officers!! Agh!!!

YO Ultra Magnus!

Chromia!!!!!

oh my gosh is THAT Red Alert??

Hey where’s Ratchet though

Gosh the writing is so STIFF!!!! I can’t stand this, if I wasn’t a die-hard Transformers fan I would’ve bounced a few minutes ago

It might also be the way the VAs pause between words, please speak normally, these constant pauses between words are frustrating

Ok but where the frick is Soundwave

“His arrogance I actually like” pfft

Annnnd here comes Ultra Magnus to accept the treaty on Prime’s behalf, where he’ll get held hostage and probably wind up beefing it.

Episode 2

SOUNDWAVE!!!! BABY

And Shockwave!!!

YO SKYWARP ACTUALLY GOT A SPEAKING LINE

I want to know where Megatron got all this fabric for those stupid flags and where Ultra magnus got that cloak

Is. Is that Prowl with a weird paint job

Wow bad aim dude

Ultra Magnus you dummy....

Ok but if it was a battle then who were they fighting against???

Wow you’re really just gonna stand there and take that Magnus?

I know they’re on a time-crunch because they only have 6 episodes, but they have to do more to make me care about the characters. I’m inclined to care about them already because I’m familiar with the series and because as a stand-alone, even I’m like “Ok. So?” whenever new problems come up for them. I’m not invested!

Not to compare the two, because I feel like this entire liveblog will turn into a comparative essay, but Cyberverse got me invested in characters within the first episode! They were on an even TIGHTER time-crunch because their episodes were only 10 minutes, and yet they did a great job weaving a tight narrative and making good use of their time to tell a story and have characters charm the audience.

Optimus: Til All Are One Rodimus, coming out of nowhere: TIL ALL ARE ONE

WELL THAT”S NOT THE VOICE I WAS EXPECTING FOR SHOCKWAVE he sounds a bit reminiscent of his TFA version

What does de-rez mean

Ok but that’s assuming that this thing will automatically reprogram them?? Reformatting doesn’t automatically mean someone will turn into a Decepticon!

You know, there’s a lot of talking in the show but the dialogue doesn’t actually say a lot. It doesn’t reveal much about the characters or tell me who they are.

YOOO THERE”S SOUNDWAVE

AUDIO BOOB

It really annoys me that characters always pause after saying “I”. It’s always “I.........[long pause] rest of their sentence.”

what do you mean “Teams” Optimus there’s like 5 of you guys

I love you Soundwave!!!

Whoa wait was that Impactor in the background?

ughHHHHHH I HATE THAT MY BIGGEST PET PEEVE IS “what have you done?” SAID UTTERLY MONOTONE WHEN IT’S NOT EVEN A BIG DEAL!!! YOU CAN”T FLIP THAT LINE OUT WITHOUT ACTUALLY PUTTING IN THE FOOTWORK TO EARN IT!!! AGH!!!

Again, it feels very much like the writers read the wikipedia page for Transformers and maybe the first sentence of each character’s bio page and then wrote the entire script from there. It’s frustrating. I hate being so severe in my reviews because I hate dunking on my fellow writers because they don’t always have final say in what happens, but this is astonishingly poor writing.

Like, I can see what they’re TRYING to accomplish, but it feels like they whiff so badly.

YO IT IS IMPACTOR

oh thats Barricade that’s why I thought that was Prowl

Chromia!!!! My darling!!!! I can’t believe there’s only two girls in this show so far

Oh that’s Cog, I wasn’t sure if that was Beachcomber or what

Nice one Chromia

Oh is that Mirage?

Ugh ANOTHER WRITING PET PEEVE: Constantly having characters start to say something but then then their dialogue gets cut off. It’s fine if it’s once in a while but over and over it’s annoying

I also feel like a lot of the VAs lack...emotion. They don’t emphasize the lines. Like, “Get him into the repair bay” is one example. Depending on how you emphasize certain words in that sentence, you can infer a lot! Emotion, the state of mind of the character, etc. But when it’s delivered in such a bland way, it’s a bit like “ok whatever”, which is how I’m starting to feel about this whole show. This doesn’t go for all the VAs or all lines, but it’s consistent enough that my mind’s wandering.

RAVAGE??? RAVAGE???? RAVAGE?!?!?!??!?!

It was probably Bumblebee.

Not to be nitpicky but it should be “Neither we nor the Autobots”

The idea of reformatting is so stupid!!! It implies that Autobots and Decepticons are inherently different, which is stupid!! It’s so dumb WHY DO YOU GOTTA GO THAT ROUTE IT”S SO STUPID (ESPECIALLY SINCE THEY”RE TACKLING THE TOPIC OF OPPRESSION??? THEY”RE SAYING THEY”RE LITERALLY DIFFERENT SPECIES AND USING IT AS A PLATFORM TO SAY ONE GROUP IS INHERENTLY BETTER THAN THE OTHER. THAT SUCKS)

Episode 3

RATCHET!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lmao love your lipgloss Megatron

Ohh is Ratchet going to fix Impactor??

PROWL??? HE”S SO SHORT

Gosh please, please don’t have humans in this show

lmao Skyfire called Starscream a tool

RATCHET!!! :D

I’d like to see who was on the writing team of this show

Isn’t that Mirage?

YEAH THAT IS MIRAGE

Again with the sentences consistently being cut off....