The cons…. Outweigh the pros, probably, if Jimmy’s being honest. Like, really. Joel’s ruthless- the amount of times Jimmy’s been thrown to the floor, back and butt aching, only for Joel to shrug at his misery, throw a pretty smile, and say: “Up.”

Well. It’s a lot of times.

He doesn’t even know why. It’s not like Jimmy is mean about Joel’s awful cooking skills (though, he is, admittedly, getting slowly better), or about how quickly Joel’s house falls back into an absolute mess (other than a couple minor comments about how it looks like his place was ravaged by a pack of wolves), or- The point is that Jimmy is very polite, thank you. And doesn’t deserve this.

So, please, imagine his shock, awe, and horror when Joel walks through the front door, chest puffed out with pride, holds a bow up into the air, and says, “Today, you’re learning archery.”

Jimmy has half a mind to just run into the bedroom and barricade the door.

———

Jimmy did not end up barricading the bedroom door, because he had good normal reactions to minor inconveniences (and also, a little bit, because Joel didn’t own anything to barricade a door with. So instead, he’s out in the clearing where the two of them sword fight, but closer to the treeline.

“So,” Joel says, having finished his terribly lacking explanation. “Go ahead.”

Jimmy makes what is probably an absolutely pitifully horrified face at Joel, who simply shrugs and gestures to the tree he’s supposed to be trying to hit. It’s much less what Joel instructed to him to do and much more what he’s seen from the knights back home that allows Jimmy to hold the arrow and string between his fingers, and then pull back.

The arrow pops out from between his fingers and falls unceremoniously to the floor.

“Oh,” Joel says, staring down at it.

“Oh,” Jimmy echos.

“Okay,” Joel says, picking the arrow up and grabbing Jimmy’s limp hand. “Listen up.” Jimmy’s listening. “So, I cut a lil groove into the arrow back here, right?”

Jimmy inspects the back of the arrow and- oh. Yeah.

“So you put the string into that groove, and you hold it between your fingers. Your fingers are on the string.” Joel takes the bow from Jimmy and places the string in the hand he was already holding. He bites the arrow between his teeth, then curls Jimmy’s pointer, index, and ring finger around the string. He slides the arrow between his pointer and index knuckles, and then looks up at Jimmy and grins.

Jimmy realizes very suddenly that they are very close. And decides, also very suddenly, that he is not going to think about the fact that he can feel Joel’s breath on his lips- he’s not thinking about it!

“Now try it for real,” Joel says, leaning in mischievously- Which Jimmy feels normally about, in case you were wondering - and then leans back and holds the wood of the bow out expectantly.

Jimmy takes it, because he feels normal. And taking things offered to you is the normal thing to do.

He wraps his fingers around the string the way Joel had just told him to, and pulls back, back, until his arm can’t go back any further, and then lets go.

The arrow doesn’t go very far.

Jimmy slouches a little, and Joel pats his thigh reassuringly. Which Jimmy still feels normal about - Shut up!!! He’s being extremely well adjusted about this, thank you. It’s Joel’s fault for being all weird during sword practice, so now Jimmy is getting all flustered at nothing during archery. It’s absolutely, one hundred percent Joel’s fault. Obviously.

Joel goes to pick up the arrow, and Jimmy waits, definitely not pouting, with the bow hanging from his hands.

“It was… a nice first try,” Joel says with the voice of someone who is trying very hard to give a compliment that is not at all deserved.

“What happened?” Jimmy asks.

“Well, you’re all-“ Joel stands up straight, and Jimmy blinks. That tells him nothing. “You have to be, like-“ Joel cuts himself off again, turning to Jimmy and twisting him by the shoulders so that they’re facing each other, hips to the treeline. Joel looks down at their feet and kicks so that Jimmy’s feet are a little further apart.

“There we go!” Joel says, offering another grin.

They’re really close again.

Jimmy decides to not think about the way Joel’s eyes crinkle when he smiles in that certain toothy way, or the way his canines are always a little sharp and make Jimmy so curious about what they feel like (which is a normal average thought, thank you), or how really cutely long Joel’s eyelashes are, actually-

Jimmy blinks, because he’s not thinking about it.

“So?” Jimmy says.

“So, now, when you shoot, you have your arm’s length,” Joel begins, grabbing Jimmy’s hand (and also the bow, which might be important to mention) and raising it up to point at the trees. “And also you have aaaaaalllllll of this,” he adds, tracing his finger from Jimmy’s shoulder to his collarbone.

“What?” Jimmy asks, feeling a little bit distracted by the tingling feeling left behind on his chest.

Joel rolls his eyes. “Look,” he says, voice dry. “Pull the string back.”

Jimmy does as requested, putting the arrow against the string, pulling the string back, and back, and back, and- oh, and back more. Okay.

“There!” Joel cheers. “You gotta bring it all the way back to here.”

He brushes the edge of Jimmy’s lip, and Jimmy lets the arrow fly immediately at the feeling.

HE’S FEELING NORMAL, THANK YOU FOR ASKING.

The arrow doesn’t sink into the wood, but it hits it! So! Yay!

“Oh, hey, pretty good,” Joel hums, appreciative.

Jimmy hopes it’s good enough for them to be done, because he needs to lie down. Is it hot out? It feels hot out.

“We’re not done ‘till you get it through the wood though,” Joel says.

Jimmy thinks he feels his spirit leave him, honest.

“That’s fine,” Jimmy says with his mouth, because complaining has never really worked against Joel. “That’s cool. That’s good. That’s. Yeah.”

Joel raises a brow at him as he picks up the arrow. “Okay, now, this time, actually bring the arrow back to your lip,” Joel says.

“Right!” Jimmy replies, holding a hand out for the arrow.

He plants one foot behind him, knocks the arrow, pulls the string back, then makes sure his hands come right to the edge of his lip like Joel said. Then he aims….

“Your arm is shaking,” Joel notes.

Jimmy turns to look at him. “So wh-?”

Joel grabs him by the chin (which makes him feel normal feelings) and Jimmy lets go of the string. The arrow flies, but Jimmy is not at all thinking about it, or even Joel sort of yelling at him.

“Don’t look at me, idiot!!! The string is gonna slap your nose or your eye or somethin’ important and you’re gonna get hurt!!! You keep your eyes on the prize, not on- me!!!”

Some traitorous voice in Jimmy’s head notes that Joel could be considered a prize, which Jimmy quickly shuts up.

Joel’s still muttering (but with more cursing this time) when he picks up the arrow. “Don’t look at me,” Joel hisses as he passes the arrow over.

Jimmy nods, because what else is he gonna do, and then knocks the arrow again. Pulls it back, to his lip, and-

“Your arm is still shaking,” Joel says.

This time, Jimmy doesn’t turn his head. “Well, what do you want me to do about it??”

Joel sighs, and then walks around to stand behind Jimmy.

Normal feelings.

He puts both his arms up and puts his hand over Jimmy’s hand on the string and helps him pull back. His other hand is on Jimmy’s hip, steadying him. Joel’s biceps are rock solid beneath Jimmy’s arm (normal feelings) and his chest is rising and falling slowly against his back. Joel rests his head between Jimmy’s shoulder blades, and Jimmy’s breath hitches.

He can feel Joel’s breath against him when he says, “We let go together. On three.”

Jimmy doesn’t even let himself nod.

“One,” Joel starts.

“Two,” he says, shifting to look at their clasped hands (or maybe the arrow).

“Three,” he breathes against Jimmy’s ear, and Jimmy doesn’t even choose to let the arrow go- the shock of the feeling against his ear makes his hand open all on it’s own.

The arrow lodges into the tree, a fair bit above where Jimmy was aiming, and stays.

Joel steps back, apparently completely unaware of what he’s just done to Jimmy’s heart. “You did it!” Joel cheers. “Good job! You can go back inside now, I’ll clean up!”

Jimmy stumbles slowly back into the shack of a cabin in the woods, and falls into a pool on the bed.

He feels normal. So so so so normal. About everything. All of this.

Normal feelings.

L. L OH MY GOD. OH YMG OD GOHDYMDS GKLJWHKJDSGHIOWJHEGS DGOYSDJGHSDJKGHSDJKGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOU DONT UDNERSTNADS. YOU DONT UDNERSTAND IVE ACTUALLY STOPPED RBEATHING THIS IS AMAZING AND EVERYONE SHOULD READ IT EVERYONE LOOK

OH MY GOODNESS

L YOU ARE LOVELY!!!!! MY GOD IM GOING TO READ THIS VOER AND OVER AND OVER WHAT THE FUCK

"Never trust your reflection in the mirror..."

so. w ember i dont look at her EVER i know she has weird makeup from her eyes but hell if i rmemwber what it looks like, ive been thinking about kitty and johnny recently and all i got out of it was that kitty’s hair was weirdly rectangular. get dreads i guess. and that my pen doesn’t do dots very well. im sorry king i didnt get your acne right o777 and w whatever her name is i HAAAAATE her hair w a passion. tone it down a littlw PLEASE

THIS IS WHAT I MEAN BY REDESIGNS ARE BETTER

I LOVE that you gave Kitty dreads!!!!! Also love the body type you gave her!!! And honestly I think your Johnny looks great you did his acne pretty well imo

The like fishnet top for Ember???? I love it. And I love how you've done her hair

And Spectra!!!! Tbh I think your version of her hair is way better - it just looks more pleasing and as painful to draw as it may be, it makes her look less like an evil person (like she was pretending to be lol)

Look at me and compare your designs to these canon ones. Try to argue with me that the canon ones are better. I dare you. (You will lose. The canon designs are merely a suggestion to artists.)

its a tragedy. it was always going to end like this, because this is just the kind of person phos is

WAUGH.

i miss antarc tbh

RIGHT!? They're so doomed by the narrative. All they wanted was for the gems to have peace. They sacrificed everything for that goal, losing all of their body except the torso, betraying their friends, killing Kongo, and in the end they were left alone for 10,000 years at which point everyone they ever knew became nothingness.

-

Martyn jerks awake, scream caught in his throat. He wobbles terribly in his hammock, then falls to the floor, gasping for breath.

Somewhere to his left, someone barks a startled laugh. “Woah, man,” Skizz says, voice a little shaky from the scare. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Martyn breathes, then gulps in air. “Yeah,” he repeats, steadier this time. “Sorry, dude. Nightmare, I guess.”

“Oh- I woulda’ woken you up if I’d known you were having a nightmare. You seemed like you needed the rest, so I figured I’d let you sleep in.” Skizz rubs at the back of his neck. “We’re late right now, actually.”

Martyn blinks. “For what?”

“The engagement party!” Skizz says. “For Prince Bdubs and his Majesty! Etho came in earlier to grab us, but I stayed back.”

“For me.”

“For you!” Skizz grins, and Martyn raises a brow. “No, really! I wasn’t slacking, I mean it!” A beat. “…It doesn’t matter. Let’s go get ready.”

-

Suiting up in armour is second nature enough that Martyn doesn’t really have to think about it. Thank whatever deities are up there for that, because Martyn needs to think.

Because, well, he’s back to the beginning of the game again, apparently. And it means all his work has failed.

On the other hand, it’s good that he’s back, because his last memory before an option box appeared before his eyes was Ren’s dead body in his arms.

His fingers freeze on a buckle at the thought.

Can he go through it again? Can he get Ren to love him again? Can he do that?

The idea is terrifying. That Ren might not even allow him to approach, and he’ll learn that Ren has died again and he won’t be able to do anything about it and-

“Suited up, dude?”

Martyn blinks. Turns to look at Skizz.

“Oh. Yeah! Yeah, lead the way.”

Skizz gives him a strange look, but starts out the door anyway. “Come on, man, let’s find Etho.”

-

Martyn didn’t manage to work up the nerve to speak to Cleo- not after what she’d done to take the Prince’s hand. He barely restrained himself from cussing her out, or crying.

He finished talking to her and then left as quickly as he could. He managed to bump into Scar again, and he was fine- cordial.

The moment he leaves the ballroom is a moment of relief.

And then he speaks:

“Knight? Have you seen the Prince?”

Ren.

“No,” Martyn says, voice shaky. “No, apologies, Mi’lord.”

And what a strange way to speak to him, after months of him being Ren, and familiar, and- and his.

“Ah… He’s later than I thought he would be,” Ren muses. “I suppose I still can’t go into the ballroom like this.”

“Or,” Martyn says before he can stop himself. “You don’t have to go into the ballroom at all.”

Too blunt, Martyn thinks. Too much- he doesn’t know you.

“Excuse me?” Ren asks, ears flicking up in surprise.

No where to go except forward, Martyn decides.

“The prince doesn’t… love you. He has half a dozen other suitors, and it’s going to break you to try to keep him.”

“I’m not- what are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything, mi’lord,” Martyn says, steadying himself and staring Ren right in the eyes. “I’m saying exactly what I mean. You won’t like how it goes, to keep trying to chase after him if he tries to leave you.”

“Is that a threat?”

Ren’s jaw is clenched. His hands are hidden under his cloak. He’s ready to fight.

Martyn forces himself to relax. “No,” he says, soft. “Not a threat. It’s… a warning, I guess. I’ve seen how he acts. I’ve seen how- how you act. And I really do wish for you to be happy. And I don’t think he can do that for you.”

I think I can, rests under his tongue.

Martyn is slow as he holds his hand out. Ren doesn’t seem to even notice, as he places his own hand on top.

“I recognize that this is overstepping my station but… Whatever you choose, I would be willing to stand behind you. This was my advice, but if you continue to go after him, I could- I would help you. I pledge to keep you safe.”

As safe as I can.

Ren, dead in his arms. A box that asks him if he wants to start over. Waking up at the start of it, again.

It’s habitual - he’s done this to Ren, all the time, so it’s easy. He presses his lips to the back of Ren’s hand, then pulls back. “Thank you for the audience, Ren.”

Martyn turns and opens the door back to the ballroom and leaves.

(He doesn’t realize his slip up until ten minutes later, and hopes he hasn’t fucked his chance up terribly by being too familiar with the king.)

-

Ren sucks in a slow breath, cheeks red and warm in the darkness of the halls.

He feels like he’s burning.

He thinks he could get used to it.

The kiss is hot on the back of his gloved hand, and he rubs a thumb over it, tail wagging slowly behind him.

He didn’t trust it, at first. He doesn’t know if he should, even now.

But he does. Someone who knew his name, who used his name, who cared enough to press a kiss to his hand, when everyone else would avoid touching him like he was death.

Ren considers the knight’s words.

He could have been trying to flirt himself into royalty.

… Ren isn’t sure he would stop him if he kept trying.

(How could he not fall in love with him, every single time?)

IM GOING TO LOSE MY FUCKIJG MIND HELLO?????????????

THIS IS SO COOL. THIS IS SO SO SO COOL. OHH YOU UNDERSTOOD TJE ASSIGNMENT PERFECTLY FANTASTIC PERCECT MARKS EXTRA CREDIT

KATHGEM. remember how dawn has thosensunglasses,