#also. too many commas. AND WHAT ABOUT IT

[mappingthesky]

not a prompt necessarily but I’m always down for planymphia angst 🙏🙏🙏

in response to multiple asks i’ve received for planymphia angst… here is this <3

i know baby, no attachment

None of this had been in the plan.

It was the first thing they’d talked about that first night in Jane’s apartment; Neither of them were looking for anything serious. They were both unavailable, incapable of making any promises. Not now. Not yet. It would be clean, simple, no strings attached. Just two people using each other. Innocently, admittedly using each other, but using each other nonetheless.

They’d been on the couch in Jane’s dimly lit apartment. Jane was an obvious sort of gorgeous. It was the first thing Nymphia had noticed about her, what drew her in on that first night they’d met: she’d been wearing something meant to lure you in, hypnotized by the clinging of her clothes to her body, the wave of her hair, her eyes tightlined and sharpened like knives. Jane was almost lethal to look at, all done up and primed to kill; the most magnetic friend-of-a-friend Nymphia had ever been introduced to. She was somehow even more gorgeous now, sitting on the couch in her casual clothes, her face aglow in the light of the television, her auburn hair pulled up into a messy top knot. She was painfully, effortlessly attractive, and, much to Nymphia’s surprise, only so much of a smooth talker. She came off suave at first, all punchlines and quick remarks, but after a while Nymphia could start to see her thinking. Jane would be in the middle of a sentence, flying through it, hurtling towards some revelation, and then she’d catch herself. She’d pause, freeze on a word and scoff at it, like she was considering whether whatever she was about to say would be worth the sentiment. And then she’d go a bit shy, averting her eyes and playing with the pilling on the upholstery, giving away just how carefully considered she was. And just when Nymphia was starting to think that Jane was completely nervous to her core, that Nymphia might actually have the upper hand in this situation, Jane would bring it back. She’d pick her head up and let the words go, say something so stunningly direct and devastating. It left Nymphia a little breathless, a little too endeared, a little too eager to kiss her.

They could have guessed at the chemistry, but it didn’t come close to the real thing.

What happened when Jane’s skin hit Nymphia was the sort of collision that produced suns and planets and supernovas, flinging particles off into space with enough pressure to form entire worlds. Nymphia could practically see the stars behind her eyes, fluttering shut when Jane was hovering above her, hand between her legs, finding some undiscovered place that Nymphia didn’t know had been there all along, waiting to be found. Jane turned Nymphia’s body into something more than it was before, transforming her irrevocably. Jane was a comet crashing through her atmosphere, and Nymphia was awe-struck, staring at the sky and watching the sparks shower. You can’t be prepared for such life-altering things, it's what makes them so devastating.

What neither of them could have predicted was the ease of what came after - the lying in bed, talking about it. The debrief. Nymphia was a bit too happily fucked, and unwilling to share the extent of her satisfaction. She was worried she would come off easy, inexperienced somehow. Jane, however, was endlessly attentive. She wanted Nymphia’s experience of the encounter, all the details - what she liked, what satisfied her the most, what she wanted more of. Her sheer desire to please was enough to pull the details out of Nymphia. She was rewarded when Jane allowed her to relive it, this time through Jane’s eyes. Jane’s gaze was far off with remembering, a smile playing at her lips as she recounted her experience of Nymphia in such erotic detail, every telling arch and shudder, and the whole thing was so overwhelmingly flattering that it sort of made Nymphia want to do it all over again.

Nymphia had known better than to pack an overnight bag. She thought she had, anyway.

Her eyes were closed and she was nearly asleep when she’d mumbled, ‘I should be going soon.”

Jane just chuckled. “You’re half asleep already.” Her fingers trailed up the curve of Nymphia’s thigh. “Just spend the night. If you want to.”

Nymphia's eyes were suddenly open, “Yeah?” Jane traced stars onto her hip.

“Mhm,” Jane hummed, eyes flickering up, then back to the curve of Nymphia’s waist.

Nymphia closed her eyes, savored in the feeling of Jane on her skin. A long moment passed.

“D’you cuddle? Or is that against the rules.”

Jane’s hum was an amused look at you asking so soon. She was already pulling Nymphia to her chest.

That first night turned into a three-day sleepover, because of course it did. Nymphia and Jane stretched themselves over the long arc of the weekend, sharing the sort of welcome, unexpected ease that you can’t put down, the kind that you’ll happily destroy your routine over and resign yourself to picking up the pieces after the fact. One weekend became another, and then occasional nights at Nymphia’s apartment with the door shut and her duvet crumpled at the end of the bed. And then they added the weekday rendezvous: Nymphia meeting Jane at her place after work on Thursday evenings, promising not to keep her up late and failing miserably, leaning her head on Jane’s shoulder in the morning as she locked the door on her way out. And then Nymphia was bleeding into Jane’s week, her Tuesdays and Wednesdays, her breakfasts and dinners, her late-night ice cream cravings and subsequent walks to 7-11. And then it was all too regular: Nymphia and Jane, Jane and Nymphia.

It's been a few months now, and there are so many things Nymphia loves about Jane.

She loves how Jane drives with one hand on her thigh, or with her fingers in her mouth. How she looks over to the passenger seat with that special look that's reserved just for Nymphia, and makes her feel like the only person she's ever wanted. She loves how she listens to her music loud, sings along when she’s drunk and tossing her hair, or when it's Sunday morning and she’s at the stove and there’s a record spinning in the living room. Nymphia loves how unabashed Jane is, how bold. How she never hesitates when it comes to the people in her life, how to be loved by Jane is to be fiercely defended by her. Nymphia loves how Jane kisses her in the middle of her sentences, especially when she's talking too much. She loves that Jane is so rough. How she can fuck her like she hates her. She loves how Jane can be so tender. How she can fuck her soft and slow, as reverent as religion. How Jane can make a mess of her, then put her back together again.

There are so many things Nymphia hates.

She hates that Jane is so impulsive, how she strikes so thoughtlessly, how she has to return to the wounds later to draw the venom out of them. How Jane is so stubborn, so set in her ways, so inflexible. How there’s two Janes - the one she’s with now, the one she is around her friends. The one who doesn’t kiss her, hardly touches her aside from a possessive arm around her shoulder or a tap on her knee. How the real Jane, Nymphia’s Jane, emerges as soon as they’re alone together, the one who will see her downturned gaze on the way home and coo what can I do, princess? Hmm? What can I do to see that pretty smile? Nymphia hates that she forgives Jane so easily, that she crumbles every time, that she loves Jane completely and entirely and beyond any measure of hurt that she could unknowingly inflict upon her.

She hates that she’s still sitting at this party, long after Jane promised they’d leave. She hates that Jane’s friends clearly like her; they laugh at Nymphia’s jokes, compliment her shoes, send knowing glances and winks across the room every time Jane so much as mentions her name. She hates how, when they ask what they are, Jane is all too quick to brush them off.

It's obvious that Nymphia’s upset by the way she pounds up the stairs, by the way she wordlessly digs through her purse for her keys, by the way the anger and the hurt and the disappointment emanate from her like poison.

“I just can’t believe they asked that,” Jane scoffs. Nymphia says nothing, gritting her teeth as she turns the key in the lock.

It should be obvious, but Jane is a bit too self-absorbed to notice.

“Like, we don’t even know what we are,” Jane says, and Nymphia feels sick, because she thought she did. “Why would she put me on the spot like that? In front of everyone?”

Nymphia pushes into the apartment, beelining for the kitchen.

“I mean, it was weird, right?” Jane continues, relentless. “Why do they need to know so bad?”

“Yeah,” Nymphia’s voice is hard, laced with venom. She chucks her keys onto the counter with a little too much force. “Why would they?”

“Right,” Jane doesn’t notice. “It would be nice if they could just let us-“

“I don’t know why they could possibly be so confused.” Nymphia interrupts, working off her thigh-highs.

Jane misses a beat. “Wait. Are you-“

“I can’t fucking imagine why they’d think that we’re together.” Nymphia lets her boots drop to the floor, one gut-wrenching smack after the other.

Jane blinks, brows knit together. Nymphia straightens up, fumbles with things on the counter that don’t need to be fumbled with. “Are you upset about this?”

“Why would I be upset?” Nymphia picks up a stray mug, sets it down again. “You just told all of your friends that we’re nothing serious. Why would I ever be upset about that, Jane?”

“I didn’t say that, Nymph,” Jane starts, already on the defense. “I said that we’re something.”

“Oh, right. My bad.” Nymphia scoffs. “We’re something. Let me know when you’re ready to illuminate me on whatever the fuck that means, Jane.”

Jane recoils at Nymphia’s profanity, unfamiliar with her frustration. She’s never seen her like this- so hurt, so ready to retaliate.

It's not funny. Jane shouldn’t laugh. She really shouldn’t, but she’s viscerally uncomfortable and horrifically unprepared for this situation, so she does anyways. “Are you really angry about this?”

The whole thing is white hot and embarrassing, and Nymphia has tears in her eyes when she turns and whips her purse to the floor.

Jane jumps. “What the fuck?” She’s wide-eyed, both hands held up in shock. “Nymphia. Are you serious right now?”

“I don’t know Jane,” Nymphia bites. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“I kinda thought you might be,” Nymphia steps over her bag. “Y’know, because you cut me a key to your fucking apartment. I thought maybe that constituted we were more than,” she curls her fingers in the air, “something”.

Jane shakes her head, jaw tight and temple pulsing. When she speaks, it's in a lower voice, almost ashamed. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“You never want to talk about it!” Nymphia’s voice cracks, a desperate wail. Jane’s mouth opens, already halfway towards defending herself until she looks at Nymphia and sees her bottom lip quivering, the spilling over of her tears. Jane looked back with a concerned, almost panicked expression, lips frozen and slightly parted.

“Do you love me, Jane? Do you even fucking like me?”

Nymphia surprises herself with the question. She’s so amped up, so high on adrenaline that she lets it all out- the culmination of weeks of words she’d bitten back, suddenly pouring forth from where they’d been collecting in a lump in her throat.

“No, seriously, do you? Because I can’t fucking tell. I think you do, because- because you say all these beautiful things, and you spend so much time with me, and you take such good fucking care of me. So you must fucking love me, right? But when your friends ask, I have to sit there and listen to you tell them that we’re something. Like it’s so fucking confusing to you. Like it's a goddamn secret. Do you know what that feels like?”

Nymphia is fully pacing now, walking the length of the kitchen over and over again. Jane follows her with wincing, pained eyes.

What Nymphia hates, more than anything, is that she doesn’t hate Jane at all. Not for any of it.

“I’m fucking in love with you, Jane, alright?” Nymphia whines, hands whipping through the air with frustration. “I’m so in love with you, and everybody fucking knows it. Your friends, my friends, my mom, everyone! But no one seems to have any goddamn clue if you love me too. And you know what? I’m not sure if I do, either.”

When she finally expels the last of the words from the hole in her heart, Nymphia looks up through her tears. She can barely stomach the sight of Jane, lips parted and wordless, unsure of what to do with the outpouring of Nymphia’s heart. She stares at her, eyes twisted in pain, then looks to the ground, like Nymphia’s words have slid off her and collected in a puddle at her feet. Nymphia just cries, a pained and exhausted whimper on her lips as she pushes past Jane and into the living room. She collapses on one end of the couch, pulling her knees to her chest and hiding her face behind one hand, hot tears sliding down her cheeks and into her mouth.

Jane stands in the center of the room with her back turned, still facing the phantom of Nymphia’s words that may very well haunt her kitchen forever. Her head is spinning, because how the fuck did this happen. Nymphia is openly sobbing behind her, and the sound is so gut-wrenching that Jane is nauseated.

Nymphia makes a horrible, shuddering gasp for air and Jane finally breaks, crossing the room and dropping to her knees on the floor where Nymphia sits. She doesn’t even look at her, just sobs, and Jane can physically feel her heart fucking breaking.

“Nymphia,” she says, placing her palm on Nymphia’s knee. “Nymph. Hey.”

Nymphia shakes her head, face contorted with tears. She flinches at Jane’s hand like it fucking hurts, and Jane winces as the guilt slices through her. She exhales a sharp puff of defeat and drops her head in hurt.

Nymphia just cries and cries, and the reality of the situation sinks in Jane’s stomach with every sob. She’s sick to her stomach with concern, worried that Nymphia might actually fucking hyperventilate, and then she’s gently begging the girl to breathe. She goes to reach for Nymphia again and pauses, scared to reach out, scared to hurt Nymphia, scared that she’ll recoil from her again. It’s then that Jane knows, for the first time in all of her life, what she wants. She knows, right as it threatens to slip out of her hands.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Jane hears her own voice. Her words hang in the air for a moment, floating like smoke between Nymphia’s shaky, shattered breaths. Jane looks up.

“This,” she says, a tentative hand on Nymphia’s knee. “What you and I have. I’ve never-”

The words are hard for Jane to stomach. They don’t pour out like Nymphia’s do. They catch in her throat, feel wrong in her mouth. She’s not sure they’ll be enough.

“I’ve never had this with anyone,” she says. “I’ve never wanted to. Not until now.”

Nymphia wipes at her eyes, shudders a bit as her breathing quiets.

“I, um,” Jane glances down, scared to look. “I don’t know how.”

Nymphia finally looks at Jane, so small and nervous and crumbling at her feet. She wants to take her hand, to show her, to be endlessly patient even if it kills her. The desire is so enormous, even now. She almost hates herself for it.

“I know I’m fucking it up,” Jane says to the floor, her voice tiny and wavering. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

“I just need to know,” Nymphia whispers.

Nymphia swallows hard, and then Jane looks up and its so fucking harrowing, so moving, because Nymphia can see the guilt in her eyes, the desire, the glimmer of words she can’t figure out how to say. She watches as she considers, catches herself, lets it go.

“I do.” Jane says. Nymphia’s heart plummets, because she knows what she means.

“I don’t want to say it now,” Jane says. “I don’t want it to be an apology. I want you to know I mean it. Is that okay?”

Nymphia nods and Jane mutters over and over I do, I do, you know I do.

It's beautiful and tragic and overwhelming, and Nymphia wants to crash into Jane, to merge together and surpass the need for words entirely. It's too soon to know yet if it's for better or for worse, only that she does it - that she reaches out and takes Jane’s hand.

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it.” There’s a hint of a smile on her lips, a bit of Jane laughing at herself. “But I want to try.”

Nymphia just nods and feels more tears streaming down her cheeks, and Jane’s crying too, and then they’re crashing into each other. Nymphia is leaning down and throwing her arms around Jane, who is sitting forward and clinging to her like she’s scared to let her go. Like she caught a shooting star in her bare fucking hands.

It's a whisper against her hair, but Nymphia hears it. “Can I try again?”

Nymphia could hate herself for it for all of forever. She’s prepared to. Jane doesn’t know what she’s doing, and she doesn't either. Nymphia nods anyway.

It's a new world, one of their own making. It's unexplored, uncharted, and they’re venturing into it together, hand in shaking hand. It's dangerous. She’s doing it anyway. She might hate herself for it. It might be the bravest thing she’s ever done.

[regicidal-defenestration]

Do you ever read a book and realise how it's going to make you exponentially worse

[dordey]

girl i am by no means a tswift stan but like........when you spend your free time compiling a post about her Years worth of having bangs or wearing clothes back to front, just to complain about it??? sounds kind of like you Are

[maddy-ferguson]

i'm studying with notes that aren't mine and tell me why the person uses parentheses ( like this ) i genuinely think there's something wrong with them

[mochinomnoms]

*blinks at u* hey so my brain is eating itself and this won't let me sleep so

*pulls out a megaphone* NSFW ALERT

Okay yes octotrio foursome i know for a fact that the tweels love making their sweet partners forget about their insecurities for a moment yuu and zuzu are mostly receiving WE KNOW THOSE TWO EELS ARE CUNTS (affectionately) and like overstimulating, sweet aftercare is clearly followed but now? They know you and Azul are very spent but oh how they love to bring out such debilitating states out of you two, voices breaking and thighs trembling wanting to stop and close "Too much!" they coo and tease in response "You can take more right?" it is their form of making you two take a break! Making your bones feel like jelly and mushing your brains up, forget about anything now darling! Feels too good to stop right?

Both of those greedy bastards get you and Azul into missionary, the dominant hands of each twin on your hips to hold them in place while the other can bring even more attention to your sensitive zones, so so messy! The amount of lube mixed with saliva and semen that coated yours and Azul's inner thighs from the previous positions, the three of your partners do love to pick apart and see what makes each scenerie unique so sounds, states everything is so important to them! The sloppy sounds that Azul causes when he thrusts into you and how with this position you two can clearly see what's going on, bodies trailed with hickys and bite marks you get masturbated by Floyd while Jade fingers Azul all while still going! Seeing how Jade looks down at you, you can see how he is whispering on Azul's ear giving light kisses every now and then along his neck. They know how much these little things can do for you two, they know and want to make the most of it! After some time of weakly thrusting the twins make Azul fill you up they eat up every breathless noises being made (they also made sure you and Azul held eye contact when bringing you two to the edge don't worry!)

Finally the twins seem satisfied with the state you two are in.. Maybe they can make it even better, Azul was catching his breath and then Floyd decided to steadily masturbate Azul's still twitching dick —"C'mon Azul we wanna see you paint shirmpy's body too!" —"Fufu~ you still have energy left Floyd?" —"Always have energy to make our little mates cum~" Azul threw his head back as he came again this time spilling on your abdomen

What a mess! Don't worry though you and Azul can go into the bath while the twins change the sheets, make small snacks prepare the wedding ceremony pull out fresh pijamas everything is ready for cuddling maybe taking a nap, watching something.. Or even just talking if you even can with your sore throat

They love, love you two this is just one of the many moments that make your relationship so special

AaaaaAAaAAaH this is the very first time I ever write something let alone smut! English isn't my mother tongue and I have forgotten how puntuaction commas or dots went! But this is very feeling charged hope that you can still get it! I think that now I can go curl up on my blankets and get some heavy sleep :3 nighty night Mochi!!

-Vaquita 🐄 (hope this isn't thrown in the dust.. I spent time on it and it could be forgotten forever ;( dramatically sobbing rn)

(you need to sleep love its good for the soul)

Omg no this is really good! I love when polyoctotrio includes the twins loving on Azul too, it feeds my soul! I think they really do get a kick out of overstimulating their partners, especially for someone as high-strung as Azul.

It gets frustrating when he gets too focused on work and starts ignoring his lovers. More so when their little Shrimp is running around busy with Grim and Crowley's tasks. The twins are feeling neglected by BOTH of their partners, what a sin!

The remedy? They con you two into coming into the bedroom to "relax" and unfortunately for you and Azul, relax means literally fucking the brains out of your head until you're too dumb to remember what you were supposed to do the next day.

The nice thing is, at the end, Azul is so sweet when he's like this! All the stress, and thoughts in general, are out of his mind and only filled with thoughts of his partners! He's so cuddly to the point that it's almost funny, with how Floyd has to pry his arms off you to properly wash you in the bath. It's awfully cute, so are you, though! You're clutching at Azul all the same, cherishing his affection as Jade attempts to dress you in your pajamas. Eventually the two get you both in bed again, curled into each other and practically knocking out the moment your heads hit the pillows.

A lovely polycule to be sure!

[snarp]

Official version of the final cutscene:

Lord brother. I'm going to be a god. If we honour our part of the vow, promise me you'll be my consort. I'll make the world a gentler place.

Unlike the Remembrance, the content of the Japanese text isn't significantly different this time, but the tone has again been stripped out. My translation:

Nii-sama I'll definitely - definitely become a god, so - so if we honor our part of the vow, please become my king. …I just… want to make the world kind.

Explanation:

兄様 Nii-sama

When Miquella says "Lord Brother," this is always what they're saying. It's also what Malenia calls Miquella when she apologizes for losing.*

私は必ず、神になります I'll definitely - definitely become a god,

The comma is there to show hesitation, and the "definitely" ("kanarazu" / 必ず) is defensive: Miquella is defending their ability and/or willingness to become a god. With the sentence structure of a panicking child promising an angry parent they'll clean up after the puppy.

ですから、私たちが約束を守れたら So - so if we honor our part of the vow,

Again, the comma's there to show hesitation or stuttering. The connective "so" ("desu kara"/ですから) is characteristic of a nervous person trying to bargain.

(There's no indication of who else or how many people "we" includes.)

私の王になってください please become my king.

They don't say "promise" - too aggressive.

…世界を、優しくしたいのです …I just... want to make the world kind.

They do not say "kinder", and they do not say "will": this isn't a promise, but a justification. As with everything else here, it sounds hesitant and conciliatory.**

The implication of this scene - the defensiveness, the promises, the honorific language, and the fact that Miquella is kneeling - is that Miquella has been apologizing to Radahn for some failure. Most likely, Radahn accused Miquella of being unable or unwilling to become a god, and so of failing to hold up "their" half of the vow, and Miquella is trying to reassure him.

From an emotional standpoint, I think it's pretty obvious what this is supposed to tell us about Miquella's motivations.

"What did Radahn want from Miquella?" is the question being asked here. Freyja asked it at the beginning, and the final cut-scene asks it again, to remind us that we still don't know the answer.

And from a plot standpoint, it tells us this: Radahn's half of the bargain is "marry Miquella and so become Elden Lord". So - by definition - that cannot be what Radahn asked Miquella for.

And whatever Radahn's half is, he wants it first. And, apparently, Miquella provided it - immediately before the final battle, with assistance from Malenia and the Tarnished.

"Figure it out!" says FromSoft. "Tee-hee-hee."

---

* On losing, Malenia says:

"…Aa, nii-sama …Aa, nii-sama, nii-sama. I'm sorry… Malenia lost…"

Referring to yourself in the third person is basically baby talk. As with Miquella, a lot of Malenia's Japanese-language dialog sounds childish. There's currently no way to know for sure if she was always like that, or if it's part of her post-Caelid mental deterioration… but Millicent talks like an adult.

(Malenia is saying "nii-sama" in "My brother will keep his promise", too - but there, she seems to be half-asleep and mumbling, and can't remember the kanji for "sama".)

** The way Japanese verb endings work, it's easy to accidentally land on a "no desu" (のです) like Miquella does here when you blurt something out carelessly, start regretting it before you end the sentence, and want to make it more polite. In "professional Japanese" classes, you get a lot of reminders not to end sentences that way because it sounds "weak," "pitiful," or "like you're always apologizing."

[vidavalor]

Great Balls of Fire

Ok, I've got a Final 15 theory on the kiss and the elevator and... pie?

This is for-- and in thanks to-- @indigovigilance, @ineffablelunatics and @somehow-a-human, as their metas reminded me of the idea of something in Aziraphale's mouth after the kiss and their talk of ball bearings and The Bullet Catch has eaten my brain alive and so here we are. Thanks also to @kayleefansposts for drawing my attention to 2/3rds of the metas. 🤗

What, exactly, happened in The Final 15? Maybe this...

As observed by many of us and discussed in the metas of the people I mentioned above, Aziraphale visibly has something in his mouth when he pulls back from the kiss. We also see him move the object around in his mouth-- or, we do, if his expression doesn't distract us first.

Because it's on his tongue, this isn't just light being weird or showing a filling or something. This is, clearly, a piece of metallic-colored something in Aziraphale's mouth. @indigovigilance pointed out how aspects of this parallel aspects of The Bullet Catch and I would agree with that. @ineffablelunatics, off of @somehow-a-human's post on the object, said it looked like a ball bearing and that's actually when I realized that I think the show might have subtly told us over the first two seasons what it is. And if it is what I think it is? The object is the reason for Aziraphale's reaction after the kiss-- not the kiss itself.

So, what is it?

To explain that, we have to start with two scenes, one from each season: 1601 and Crowley in Heaven with Muriel in 2.06.

In the 1601 scene, we learned that Crowley & Aziraphale experimented with their powers after they got tired of canceling each other out and that they discovered Heaven's dirty little secret in the process. That secret is that basically the only differences between them are the colors of their feathers and the lack of immunity to hellfire/holy water. Heaven has been telling everyone that some magic was "demonic" and that angels couldn't do it and they also had told everyone that demons no longer possessed angelic powers. Crowley & Aziraphale realized that this was bullshit-- Aziraphale could do temptations and Crowley could still do blessings. It's this discovery that allowed them to start fulfilling each other's assignments. They didn't tell a soul because of the danger of admitting they knew, especially because admitting it would be acknowledging that they had worked together to figure it out. This means that, with the exception of holy water being dangerous to him since he fell, Crowley is effectively still an angel in terms of the power he possesses.

This would mean he can magically make just about anything he could make when he was an angel. It's relevant because Crowley, as we'll see, made the object he slipped into Aziraphale's mouth during the kiss.

When Crowley is in Heaven with Muriel in 2.06, he opens the file on Gabriel's trial, which we are told can only be accessed by "a throne, or a dominion, or above"-- further showing that the truth is that Heaven actually can't strip angels of their power to do miracles. They're just simply telling them that they have done so as a form of social control and casting some to Hell to use them as way to discourage rebellion. This scene also reminds us of Crowley's awareness of this and shows him using his "angelic" powers to get information to help Gabriel.

The same scene with Muriel and Crowley that showed us that Crowley still retains his angelic powers reminds us again of the rank of throne/dominion in Heaven. (I say "throne/dominion" because Muriel's verbal commas and the way the sentence is structured-- along with the scene in S1 when Crowley goes from his throne to dominate his plants lol-- suggests that it is possible to be both ranks of angel at once, which is another topic so we won't go too far into that right now.) Crowley was undoubtedly a throne/dominion-- and it's not even just the fact that he had that hilariously tacky throne in S1. It's relevant here because of ties of throne-related things to what it is that Crowley made and slipped into Aziraphale's mouth.

Thrones are apparently God's chariots. They are concerned with justice and reside in the areas of space "where matter originates"-- which feels very Before the Beginning, right? They are symbolized by big wheels that rotate and by eyes that change color.

Yes, by wheels and eyes that change color... seems very Crowley, no?

The eyes repeat on the symbolic wheels and are in the position of what we on Earth would call ball bearings, apparently looking kind of like this:

...and remember the interconnected, turning wheels in the scroll that Crowley had Aziraphale hold in the moment they met, at the start of 2.01?...

It could be said that Crowley... a throne, a polymath, a scientist, an inventor... a being whose signature thing is the sexiest old car on four wheels... could make ball bearings from his body when he was an angel and, since we know that he still has basically everything but the ability to make holy water from his angel days, it means that he still can make those ball bearings...

...but we also know what else he can make from his body since he's also a demon-- and not just from his hands but from his mouth...

...hellfire.

Yes, I'm saying that it really was a ball bearing in Aziraphale's mouth-- but it was not hollow or empty. Not by a long shot. It was full of hellfire. It wasn't for Aziraphale's memories as Crowley didn't think that Aziraphale had time or opportunity left to extract them.

It was a suicide pill.

The story was calling back to The Original Ineffable Divorce in 1862...

Think about what Crowley saw when he was up in Heaven in S2...

Crowley is the one who put together what happened to Gabriel. He watched the video of Gabriel's sham "trial" and he saw The Metatron basically order Gabriel killed and cast down through the ranks and he knows that Gabriel only evaded Hell because of how it would have diminished the power of the institution of Heaven to send him there. Crowley knows that Aziraphale does not have this same amount of political power. He knows that The Metatron is a shifty motherfucker and that Michael cannot be counted on. He knows how much danger Aziraphale is in.

So, he takes a page from Lord Beezlebub after seeing that they protected Gabriel with the fly... only it's not exactly the same thing.

Beez's fly was given to Gabriel to help save him. It was a place to store his memories to help protect him long enough to keep him safe until they could make sure he was safe and intact. It worked because Beez and Gabriel had time to make a plan together. By the time Crowley is in Heaven watching the video of what happened to Gabriel and then getting back to the bookshop to sort it all out, there's no time for he and Aziraphale to make a plan. They are not alone again until after "The Metatron" has already shown up and, by then, Aziraphale is already on his way to being lost.

Beez is actually the first character we ever see make their signature thing on-screen and when they do? I mean...

Evocative of a kiss, with that big closeup on Beez's mouth. We watch them push the fly gently out of their mouth with their tongue. It foreshadows Crowley making something in his mouth and ties delivery of it to the kiss. We know that Crowley knows that he can make a single object that is of aspects of both Heaven and Hell combined-- like a ball of hellfire tempered, unless consumed, by a ball bearing.

Plus, earlier in the season, there's Gabriel tying The Fly-- which came about as a result of Beez trying to help him manage his depression by helping him to feel safer-- to metaphorical suicide when he spends the scene where the angels show up chasing it around the bookshop, trying to kill it with one of Aziraphale's Bibles, symbolizing just what Heaven is doing to everyone's mental health here...

But this is just where this possibility starts, really... because why else do I think it's a hellfire-full ball bearing suicide capsule that Crowley gave Aziraphale?

Well, for starters, there is all the holy water that is all over this plot at the end of S2... At the end, Crowley stands in Whickber Street outside The Bentley right across from The Dirty Donkey in a nod to-- among other scenes-- the 1967 scene, when Aziraphale brought Crowley the holy water.

Aziraphale knew that Crowley also secretly wanted holy water as a last resort and Aziraphale initially couldn't handle the idea of losing Crowley and reacted badly before eventually coming around to the idea that maybe Crowley needed to have some supernatural cyanide at his disposal in order to feel safer and that he should have that option. Based on the holy water story, Crowley, then, would be the first person to think that Aziraphale needed a suicide pill as an option if he found himself in trouble he couldn't get out of.

In 2.06, Crowley knows how likely it is that Aziraphale could be harmed by the angels and/or sent to Hell-- which is the domain of Crowley's assailant, who is literally Satan, and who hates both of them for, among other things, turning Adam against him. Crowley knows Aziraphale is a good person who wants to believe the best is possible but he also knows how unlikely it is that this is going to go well for Aziraphale. Crowley can't stand the thought of Aziraphale suffering so he gives him a way out as an act of love because Crowley would sooner lose Aziraphale for eternity than see him suffer.

When it becomes clear that Aziraphale is going with "The Metatron" and Crowley is out of ways to convince him not to, he sees Aziraphale look away and start to cry. Crowley goes back and kisses him as a last resort but Aziraphale is initially resistant-- not because this is their first kiss and not even just because they're upset (though that's part of it) but because to kiss Crowley then would be to let him in... (after all of those symbolic doors and "let me in"s happening in the story)... when Aziraphale making the mistake of trying to shut him out.

Aziraphale eventually, though, can't help but let Crowley in a little...

...because, ya know, it's Crowley...

...and, when he does, he opens up a little, and Crowley slips a suicide pill into Aziraphale's mouth.

It's also definitely worth noting that one of the reasons-- the primary reason, even-- why Crowley kisses Aziraphale is because he needs a cover to both make and give the fireball to Aziraphale without being noticed-- and to do so in such a way that Aziraphale would be assured of the ability to have it on his person when he got to Heaven-- even if he lost his clothes in the process, as like what happened to Gabriel when he was cast out. It has to go in Aziraphale's mouth for easy consumption for it to work and kissing him is the only way to do that. What's really worth noting, though?

Crowley's plan hinged on Aziraphale eventually giving in and kissing him back. He couldn't tongue the fireball into Aziraphale's mouth without Aziraphale parting his lips and Crowley knew he would... because he always does. Not that they're regularly trying to kiss while being super miserable lol but mah point is that Crowley knows that Aziraphale can't ever not kiss him. That's not indicative of this being a first kiss-- that's indicative of the complete opposite of that.

Anyway...

Aziraphale knows what Crowley can make and what it is that he just gave him and that's why this is his reaction after the kiss:

The devastation isn't over the kiss itself. It's because Aziraphale trusts Crowley's interpretations of things more than his own sometimes and, by secretly slipping Aziraphale a suicide capsule out of fear and love and delivered in a kiss, it really hits home for Aziraphale that Crowley thinks they are now in a situation where there probably isn't going to be another way out. It's not because it's a first kiss-- it's because it's likely a last one-- and things are so dire that it came with supernatural cyanide.

It's the realization that Crowley really thinks Aziraphale has been fooled and Aziraphale can't bear it because he knows, deep down, that Crowley is probably right and he's embarrassed. 'Pride goeth before a fall' and all that... Aziraphale is lovely-- an absolute poppet-- but he's imperfect, just like us all. One of his worst traits is that he doubles down when he's been embarrassed as a way of trying to save face and retain pride. It's maybe his worse flaw and it gets very dangerous for him here. Crowley is no stranger to trying to stop situations where it could happen, like this paralleling time in 1941:

Some other reasons why it's a fireball suicide pill before we get to what then happened in the elevator...

There's the fact that the show had a scene set in S2 in The Dirty Donkey-- where the elevator is. (As the start of the scene, Crowley & Aziraphale even walk through the door where the elevator will materialize at the end of S2.) Part of their conversation is very possibly Crowley recounting their first kiss-- at minimum, it's about kissing-- and then Aziraphale makes it also about balls, combining the two to, among other things, foreshadow The Final 15:

The wordplay here is already threefold in this scene off of Crowley's joke that follows Aziraphale remembering Jane Austen's balls: balls (testicles), the phrase that x person "has balls" (is badass), and balls (of the cotillion/dancing variety). This continues into the meeting that Aziraphale hosts-- the disaster of a ball that goes straight into the end game of the season. Here's Aziraphale making yet another ball-related wordplay joke-- this one, during The Meeting Ball:

"We're having a ball" as in they're literally having a ball-- a party-- but also the idiom "we're having a ball" meaning "we're having a great time." We are now up to four different meanings of the word 'ball' in S2, stretched across different scenes, emphasizing the importance of it. One of the missing ones still needed here to complete this idea is a literal ball-- and the ball bearing would not only meet this idea but would then make all of the ball-related wordplay have had the purpose of building towards it. We think it's building towards The Meeting Ball-- and it is-- but all of it, including The Meeting Ball, would actually then be building towards the hellfire ball, which is the actual ending of S2.

Then, there's what this all has to do with the eccles cakes...

Yes, eccles cakes lol... Eccles cakes, as a lot of us already know, are popularly referred to as "fly cakes", off of how the currents sometimes look in them, but the significant thing here is that, despite their name, eccles cakes are not actually cakes at all-- they are really pies.

Ball bearings are also used in Good Omens' favorite metaphor of food to weigh down dough when baking pie crust. Pie weights and ball bearings are basically the same things, just put to different use. It means you literally cannot make eccles cakes from scratch without a jar of pie weights... which are just, structurally, the same thing as ball bearings... and Crowley can make them. You also make pie dough by first rolling it into a ball.

Which is likely why this hilarious moment exists:

Please hold The Cake-Pies of Symbolism, my pie (and Pi)-loving dear...

Crowley's face at having to stand there holding some little pies 😂...

The eccles cakes-that-are-really-pies go along with this theory as well because look how the show presented the forthcoming apocalypse to us back in 2.01:

The horse is Crowley, the rider is Aziraphale, and they're headed for Armageddon-like mental health disaster-- all ushered in by the four eccles cakes, representing Gabriel, Beez, Nina (who suggested & gave them the eccles cakes) and Maggie.

Presumably, The Lords of the Flies are the two eccles cakes that are already canoodling on the back of the plate while Maggie and Nina are the two in the foreground who are aligned but not yet together. Crowley's S2 plot is largely working at the behest of these wonderfully rebellious pies. He looks after Gabriel, finds out what happened to him and connects it all to Beez... and this is after he spent the season on his vavoomy Operation Lovebirds to get Maggie and Nina together. He's responsible for the pie crust-- the containers of the eccles cakes-- in a show obsessed with containers. Crowley is, symbolically, a jar of pie weights in being form by way of his actions-- which is suggestive of the fact that he can probably physically make them. (There's also: "Just a few million years to bake," which Crowley said of his stars-- which he made-- in the opening scene of the season.)

"Nina, what do you sell that calms people down?"

Calm is from the Greek kauma, which means the heat of the day. Heat, as in slang for a weapon. Heat, as in hellfire. Heat, as in what's needed to bake. Heat, as in passion. Heat, as in "bringing the heat." The heat of the day-- the sunny daylight of The Final 15. Eccles cakes-- really: pies-- calm people down... they bring them heat, in every possible way, and it sets them on a path down-- to Hell.

Then, there's Agnes Nutter...

When The Witchfinder Army came to kill Agnes, she hid gunpowder (a weapon) and roofing nails (the construction-related metal that enabled it) in her dress. Agnes blew up-- she became a literal. fireball. Crowley wasn't necessarily suggesting that Aziraphale turn himself into an Agnes-like bomb in Heaven when he gave him the capsule but he was giving him a weapon involving fire with which he could kill himself if he had no other way out.

Then, there's the theme of suicide in examples from earlier in the season:

Crowley saving Elspeth (on the night Crowley was dragged to Hell)... The bit when Aziraphale then calls Crowley from Edinburgh in the present and tells him that he's read that Dalrymple left in disgrace and killed himself... "The Bananafish" being a short story about trauma by J.D. Salinger which ends with a traumatized man suddenly killing himself... Crowley setting Gabriel up to jump from the window and then stopping him from doing it...

There's also the fact that the end of S1 was Heaven and Hell forcing Crowley and Aziraphale into forms of suicide (getting into hellfire/holy water) and the "Aziraphale" in the Heaven part of it was Crowley spitting hellfire-- at Gabriel, no less, whose story is what jumpstarts S2.

Then, there's that the song that is The Clue to everything in S2 is "Everyday", the significance of which is that it's a foundational song of American rock 'n roll. Rock 'n roll is a blend of musical styles that actually wouldn't exist without first the big band/swing that Aziraphale loves that came before it-- symbolizing how Crowley & Aziraphale paved the way for Gabriel & Beez. There's another song, though, that, like "Everyday", is from the pivotal rock year of 1957 that is equally influential and is enormously Good Omens-y, in the sense that it cleverly uses wordplay to the effect of barely disguising sexual euphemisms and often through amusingly church-y language:

You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain/Too much love drives a man insane/You broke my will/But what a thrill...

Goodness gracious... great balls of fire...

[Also: less part of the theory and more just a possible nod but... "The Metatron" brought Aziraphale a coffee, there's a threat of non-existence, and Aziraphale might have gotten a 'kiss of death' from a being who is, essentially, a cherry pie lol... so, those of you who know that other greatest television show to ever television show might see a bit of a nod to Twin Peaks in here as well.]

Speaking of kisses of death... the film that popularized the word "vavoom"-- and which GO S2 is homaging all over the place-- is called 'Kiss Me Deadly.'..

So, after the kiss, Aziraphale gets the capsule and keeps it tucked into his mouth and he's gone too far with the conversation and doesn't want to admit that maybe he's wrong and Crowley is right. Crowley goes out, "The Metatron" comes back in, and Aziraphale keeps looking at Crowley staying by the car out the window and he's a bit more nervous now ("what about, um, my bookshop?"). Even if he still wants to be right, he's beginning to doubt even more that he is.

He almost tells "The Metatron" to go. He almost goes to Crowley. We see him start to say that he thinks he made a mistake but he doesn't go through with it. He's too embarrassed. Fraulein Maria can't face The Captain and is trying to run back to The Abbey over here.

Aziraphale goes out with "The Metatron" and the significant moment is this revelation: "We call it 'The Second Coming'."

This is the moment that Aziraphale realizes for sure that he's been tricked and there is no Supreme Archangel job for him. The Metatron doesn't want to change Heaven or save anybody-- he wants to destroy the world, same as he always has-- and there's no way that he'd ever trust Aziraphale to carry that out when Aziraphale is who stopped the first round. Heaven will never admit they did wrong by Crowley-- to do so would be to collapse the system because then every demon would want to appeal their own status and demand justice and the Heaven/Hell regime would fall, in the sense that their little supernatural empire would crumble. The Metatron would never allow that and Aziraphale realizes in this moment for sure that he has been played for a sucker.

It's still possible that, at this moment, Aziraphale might still believe that this being who has tempted him with the possibility of the justice he wants for Crowley more than Crowley actually wants for himself-- and with false reassurances that he and Crowley could be together forever-- actually is The Metatron. Or, Aziraphale might be starting to get the sense of what's actually happening but, either way, he now knows that he's been fooled. He knows now that while he and Crowley both got some things wrong (suggesting they run off and proposing suddenly were not great moves on Crowley's part)... about this bit anyway? About being in danger if he believes the being who came to the door? Crowley was right.

So, Aziraphale has a choice: does he go to Crowley or does he get in the elevator, knowing now that to do so is to go to a form of death?

He can't face Crowley. He knows Crowley would forgive him and just wants him to be safe but, in the moment, Aziraphale is too ashamed and too embarrassed to admit that he was fooled and to deal with how awfully he just behaved. He's also exhausted from being hounded by the weight of his halo and Heaven for thousands of years. Negative thought cycles in overdrive-- he's never truly believed that he deserves Crowley and he has convinced himself that maybe Crowley might be better off without him. Maybe they just don't get a happy ending and maybe Aziraphale is so tired and can't run and hide anymore and just wants it to end.

Imagine spending thousands of years in service of an organization that also doubles as family and who abused you and abandoned you and who now wants to kill you... and you so hoped that change was possible that you clung to the idea beyond a point of reason-- to the point of hurting the one you love, with whom you have the only real love you've ever known. And you know he'd forgive you in a heartbeat because he loves you and he just wants you to be safe but you can't face him because you can't yet face yourself... that's Aziraphale deciding between Crowley and the elevator.

Aziraphale can barely glance over at Crowley and when, he does, it's also The Bentley he's looking at because he's telling the car to play Crowley their song. Crowley said "no nightingales" but Aziraphale says, in response: "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square." His last moment on Earth and he uses it to basically leave a suicide note for Crowley that says nothing but I'm sorry. I love you.

Their song plays when Crowley starts the engine of The Bentley, which calls back to the first time they met in the Before the Beginning scene that began the season and showed how they started the engine of the universe together.

Aziraphale might be trying to warn Crowley about Armageddon by sending an "engine trouble"-type of message or he might be calling back to when they first met or, as I suspect, he might be doing both but the show, at least, is referencing Before the Beginning here with this, whether or not Aziraphale intentionally is.

So, Aziraphale? He makes his choice. He gets into the elevator...

...and he swallows the fireball. Which we can see him do here:

Or, as this was foreshadowed in S1 by the being whose own fall and subsequent arrival at the bookshop door set all the events in this season into motion:

(The eerieness of the fake grin on Gabriel after seeing how it foreshadows S2 ending with Aziraphale's mad grin...)

Because, when all is said and done, this poor bastard really would have a death-by-swallowing-something story over here, wouldn't he? Can they just hurry up and destroy the Heaven/Hell system so Aziraphale can have food and sex in peace already, please? 😄

Aziraphale knew he'd been played and he didn't want to go through whatever came next. He didn't want to reach the top floor of Heaven because he knows that only forms of death await him there. They'll take his memories. They'll cast him to Hell. Being a demon is no picnic and Aziraphale has seen that in being with Crowley for so long. Satan is not exactly the biggest fan of Aziraphale and Aziraphale, better than most, knows what Satan is capable of. He doesn't want any part of that. He ingested a suicide pill to avoid being captured by the enemy.

Crowley gave him the pill because angels are not immune to hellfire. That's what made it a suicide capsule, right? It was supposed to kill him within seconds. It was supposed to be quick and relatively painless-- a way to escape the horrors that might await him. Even when Aziraphale is at his worst-- as Aziraphale was in their last scene in bookshop-- he is still a pure-of-heart, lovely being to Crowley because Crowley loves Aziraphale as he is-- imperfect. Just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing. It never occurred to Crowley that the capsule might fail. Why? Because Aziraphale is, always and forever, his angel.

Both Crowley and Aziraphale thought the fireball should have protected Aziraphale from pain and suffering by killing him almost instantly once he ingested it.

By that measure, Aziraphale should have burst into flames in the elevator, seconds after he swallowed the pill just after stepping inside.

But he did not.

We watch as the seconds start to tick by... and we see the realization play out on Aziraphale's face as each second that passes is another one where he's still here...

...the look gets more and more unhinged as the elevator keeps climbing until we get the slightly mad dark grin as the last shot of him before a fade to a deathly black... with Aziraphale having spent the final splitscreen since he got into the elevator on the other side of Crowley, symbolizing what's happened.

In the elevator scene, we are watching the dawning realization play out on Aziraphale's face as the fireball doesn't work and there's only one reason why it wouldn't-- because he's no longer an angel.

Aziraphale has been sauntering vaguely downward for the season and maybe for awhile before then. He's been letting the darkness in, more and more, throughout all of S2. We have been watching his fall happen. The 'falling from a great height into a pit of boiling sulphur' part of falling? Ceremonial. An aftermath of sorts-- an additional punishment. It awaits Aziraphale when he gets off the elevator in Heaven but it's something we likely don't really need to see and never have seen in the show yet because that's not actually the main point of a fall. By the time you're literally falling from a great height, you've actually already fallen.

Aziraphale's determined-- but also just really half-mad-- final grim smile in the elevator over his understanding of what's happened is both the pain of thousands of years of religious trauma and abuse-related misery and a bit of completely unhinged I'm gonna burn this place to the fucking ground fury.

Aziraphale swallowing the capsule also parallels Gabriel having to "consume" The Fly to open it. The Fly went through Gabriel's eye and allowed him to "see"-- it give him realization and understanding by returning his memories to him. For Aziraphale, he swallows the fireball and it also gives him a kind of sight-- realization and understanding of what's happened and what's to come... all of this also in the moments before his memories (and, so, his sense of self/his life) will likely be taken from him.

(For a time-- he'll be fine eventually. *mantras* South Downs Cottage, South Downs Cottage...)

"And from his mouth go burning lamps and sparks of fire leap out." The Job quote on the matchbox. The matchbox contained the fly-- it's the equivalent to the ball bearing containing hellfire. Works now on several different levels but one of them then is: And from his mouth (Crowley's mouth/the kiss/the fireball/Aziraphale swallowing the fireball)...

...go burning lamps (the light that goes out in the bookshop when Aziraphale is in the elevator)...

...and sparks of fire leap out. Several meanings:

Literal sparks-- in that Aziraphale can now spit hellfire, like how Crowley did in his body in Heaven in S1.

Sparks of fire leaping out, in the sense that Aziraphale has made the leap-- he is a demon now.

Lastly, though... sparks of fire leap out... as in, Hell (and Heaven) hath no fury like this very, very, very pissed off Angel of the Eastern Gate whose whole thing is freeing those imprisoned by corrupt systems...

Visually paralleling the elevator with a grey wall behind him and light/darkness alternately striping Aziraphale is the 'Aziraphale and God' scene in 1.03, setting up its sister elevator scene in 2.06, where Aziraphale realizes that he has been tempted by Satan and has fallen. (Ironically, a realization about having fallen that happens while going Up in an elevator.)

God: "Aziraphale. (dryly) Angel of the Eastern Gate. Where is the flaming sword I gave you, Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale, unintentionally foreshadowing the fuck out of the plot:

"...must have put it down here somewhere."

Yeah. 😉 Give 'em hell, Aziraphale.

Bonuses:

The awning of a new age/Dawning of a New Age joke. An understanding/a daybreak that begins a new era...

"Oh, listen, I think it's about to happen-- the 'awning' of a new age." Yes, indeed, Crowley. A dawning of a new age was imminent...

...and, finally, if you substitute 'Aziraphale' for his parallel of 'Job' in these sentences, Bildaddy summarized the season endgame quite nicely in 2.02:

[softguarnere]

Memories Feel Like Weapons

Edmund Pevensie x gn!reader

Summary: “People can be different. They can change. You’ve changed.” Gently, you use your pointer finger to hook his chin and turn his face towards you, making him look you in the eye. “You’re a good king, Edmund, and an even better man. A good brother. A good boyfriend. Everyone has forgiven you for what you did as a child.” A/N: What's up, y'all?! It's been freezing these past few days and I hate it! 🥴 So this is for all you other lovelies who are currently being plagued by SAD 🫶🏽 Also, in case it's not clear in the fic, for the purposes of the story, we're just gonna assume that reader's parents also sent them off to the country during the war to stay with the professor, that they met the Pevensie's there, and went to Narnia with them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! ❤️ Warnings: Edmund has SAD but it's Narnia so it's never actually called that, the author is (once again) overusing commas

As interesting and as magical a place as Narnia is, you’re willing to admit that diplomatic negotiations are something that usually bore you to tears.

You try to take an interest, you really do, for Edmund’s sake. Political wheeling and dealing is his bread and butter. You’re not particularly adept at it yourself. Edmund has tried to explain the finer points to you many times, but it’s not something that you can wrap your head around. But maybe that’s just because you get too distracted thinking about how good looking your tutor is. Sometimes you raise a question or a particular point that you know he’ll jump to answer just to see how passionately he talks about his favorite subject. As far as you know, he hasn’t caught on yet.

Today proves to be different, though.

A chill in the air greets you when you awake. A crackling sound from the corner tells you that a servant has crept in at some point and started a fire in the hearth to stave off the cold. Blinking to adjust your eyes to the light, you’re greeted by the type of cold, white sunlight that announces a wintery morning and the season’s signature magical touch that often appears overnight – snow.

You leap out of bed, gasping when your feet kiss the cold floor. Hurrying to put on slippers, you wrap yourself in a fluffy robe and hurry to the door.

Edmund hates the winter. He hates the snow even more. No one can blame him for that. But you’re the only person he’s confessed this to.

Sure, his siblings might suspect as much. Those first few years in Narnia, no one dared suggest that they play in the snow whenever it arrived, for fear of what it might imply, and for fear of inadvertently upsetting the youngest Pevensie brother. After a few more years, he would find excuses to be tucked away in his library on snowy days, and no one would breathe a word of the fun they had without him while he was around. A delicate subject and a fine dance around it, to say the least.

It was only last winter that Edmund confided in you, and only because you had recently become a couple. He said the winter was hard enough on its own, but the snow brought back too many bad memories, ushered in nightmares so vivid that he sometimes woke up questioning what was real and what wasn’t.

This is going to be a rough day for him, to say the least. Which puts a damper on the mood, since ambassadors from a nearby kingdom are arriving to negotiate trade – something he was so looking forward to.

“Edmund?” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet library, and the echo makes you flinch slightly at the loudness of your own voice, at the desperate quality it holds.

Stepping further inside the room, you listen, and tune into the crackling of the fireplace along the far wall. You follow it until you can see the chairs in front of it, and in one of them, Edmund, slumped over a large tome, asleep.

He’ll have a crick in his neck from sleeping that way, you think. If you hadn’t known why he was here, finding him in his favorite place like this would be sweet. It still tugs on your heartstrings, yes, but in a different, heavier way.

“Edmund?” You gently shake his shoulder before stepping back.

The Just King startles awake, his book slipping out of his lap. His eyes are wide and wild as they flick across the room, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. Finally, they land on you and soften. “(Y/N)?”

“Good morning, sleepy head,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light, casual. “If you say that your neck doesn't hurt after sleeping like that, then you’re a liar.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The painful popping noises that echo from his spine say otherwise, but you let it go. Slowly, he rises, stretches, and then takes a step closer to you and plants a kiss on your forehead. He sighs through his nose. “Today is the day.”

You slip your hand into his, intwine your fingers. “How are you feeling?”

Edmund shrugs. His relationship with his siblings has improved leaps and bounds in all the years that they’ve spent in Narnia, but sometimes he still hesitates to show certain emotions around them, to express himself the way he should. Sometimes it’s easier when it’s just the two of you in a space like this where he’s comfortable.

“I’ll manage.”

“If you’re not feeling up to it – “

He squeezes your hand. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a day that I have to get through.”

“Spring will come again,” you assure him, using the mantra that you often whispered to comfort him through last year’s winter season.

“And we will greet it with open arms and grateful hearts,” he finishes. He attempts a smile, but it looks more strained than usual. “Don’t worry, darling. Everything will be fine.”

. . .

It is almost immediately not fine.

The ambassadors arrive in all their splendor. Fine fabrics and shimmering jewels assure that no one can take their eyes off them as they enter the hall and approach the five thrones. They bow to Peter in the center, to Susan and Lucy on his left, then to you and Edmund on his right. Servants carry golden trunks behind them. They have come to these diplomatic negotiations bearing gifts in the most literal sense.

Though you will all retire to a separate chamber for the actual negotiations, the gift giving is a public affair for the whole court to witness. And because it’s so formal, it’s rather slow.

Strong weapons forged of foreign metals are gifted, followed by clothes of their country’s latest fashions, and small samplings of food for each of you, a different dish for you each to try based on what the ambassadors have heard about you.

Thank goodness you’re a good actress, because the ambassadors seem to think that you really do seem excited to try the food in the bejeweled silver container that they gift to you. In reality, you’re trying your hardest not to grimace at the unfamiliar looking treats inside of it, and trying hard not to become preoccupied wondering if the taste will be as . . . unique as the smell that emits from them.

“And finally, for King Edmund,” one of the ambassadors says with a bow before presenting a silver container to Edmund with a flourish. “I have heard a rumor that you are quite fond of these.”

Thankful for a distraction from the gift in your own hands, you turn your attention to Edmund. Sitting beside him, you are in full view of the show that his siblings are not. You can see the rosy color, the powdered sugar. The Just King’s smile immediately falters. Strong hands clamp the container shut before anyone else has the chance to see what’s inside – Turkish Delight.

For a moment there is nothing but silence, the labored sound of Edmund drawing a breath. It goes on just long enough that his siblings glance at him. Only then does Edmund seem capable of forcing himself to smile, to nod, to thank the ambassador for such a thoughtful gift. If his siblings sense that something might be wrong, they don’t even know the half of it.

Because what has just happened, really? Is this a slight on behalf of the other country’s rulers? Or do they genuinely have no clue the implications of their actions?

As the exchanging of the gifts comes to a close, Edmund coughs into his fist, clears his throat. Does it again. He thumps the flat of his palm against his chest.

Peter turns to him. “Are you alright?”

“I think I just require a bit of fresh air, if you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Edmund replies. He says it far too quickly, and he uses the excuse to dismiss himself from the hall. The silver container that holds the Turkish Delight has been abandoned, left behind on his throne.

It takes everything in you not to race after him, to follow him, to make sure that he’s okay. Instead, you’re stuck helplessly glancing between the doorway that he’s disappeared through and the ambassadors who won’t seem to shut up.

Finally, the niceties end. The other king and queens of Narnia begin to migrate into a separate chamber with the ambassadors to begin the negotiations.

Quickly, quietly, you catch Lucy by the sleeve of her dress and lean in close to her ear. “I’ve got to go find Edmund,” you whisper. “I’m worried about him.”

Lucy’s eyes go wide, but she holds her composure under the watchful eyes of the court and the visiting representatives. “I’ll cover for you,” she whispers back.

As one of the five Narnian monarchs, you don’t technically need anyone’s permission to leave – except maybe Peter’s, since he’s the High King. Still, you’re the only one who’s not a Pevensie sibling, which can sometimes be a little isolating. Knowing that Lucy has your back boosts your confidence as you slip away, heading for the nearest place that you think Edmund might have disappeared to.

A quick search reveals that he’s not in the library. Or the armory, or any of his usual haunts. As a last resort, you duck into his bedroom, and it’s there that you find him, standing before the hearth, staring into the flames. His hand holds the place on his side where the White Witch stabbed him on the battlefield, though the gesture seems absentminded.

“Ed?” You make your voice soft so as not to startle him.

He looks up, eyes wide, surprised anyway – and hurt.

You don’t waste time asking if he’s okay. Instead, you cross the room to meet him in front of the fire. “Oh, Edmund.”

He doesn’t bother lying and saying that he’s fine. That’s how you know it’s bad. When Edmund Pevensie goes quiet, retreats within himself, it means that he’s truly wounded. This is something deep inside of him that aches, that rots.

Not knowing what to do, you take a seat on the rug in front of the hearth. You’re careful not to touch him, trying to offer him the space if he needs it. But he follows your lead and takes a seat, too, which seems like a good sign.

For a while, neither of you speaks. You just sit near each other, staring into the fire. Edmund looks very numb when he finally says, “I didn’t mean to leave like that. I just . . . panicked.”

“No one blames you.”

“Seeing that stupid Turkish Delight – “ He shudders. “I can’t figure out if it was a poor choice given with good intentions, or if it was a slight on my honor, a reminder of what I did.” He frowns. “I suppose to some people I’ll never be Edmund the Just – I’ll only ever be just Edmund, The Traitor.”

“No,” you protest. Space be damned; you grab his hand in yours and squeeze it, like that gesture can also grab his attention, infuse the meaning of what you’re about to say to him so that he cannot ignore it. “Edmund, you’ve changed. You’re not a traitor.”

“Anymore.”

“People forget that I was there, too,” you remind him. “I tried to follow you to Jadis’ castle.”

“That was different. You were trying to stop me from betraying my family.” His brow furrows at the memory. “So I shoved you into a snowbank and ran off without you. And then you went back to Beaver’s the help the others. (Y/N) the Loyal,” he employs the epithet that Aslan gave you, but you can’t be sure why. Because of what you did then? Because you’re here with him now?

“People can be different. They can change. You’ve changed.” Gently, you use your pointer finger to hook his chin and turn his face towards you, making him look you in the eye. “You’re a good king, Edmund, and an even better man. A good brother. A good boyfriend. Everyone has forgiven you for what you did as a child.”

Edmund shakes his head. “But they haven’t forgotten. And I can’t, either, if I’m being honest.” He doesn’t meet your eye when he confesses, “It haunts me, the memories. Every winter.”

“No. But you can do something else.” You pause to make sure that you have his full attention when you make your suggestion. “You can forgive yourself.”

Edmund blinks. As smart as he is, it seems like the thought has never occurred to him before now.

“It doesn’t have to be now,” you assure him. “It’s not an instantaneous thing. Just . . . something to work on. A project. An ongoing one.”

Silence falls between you again as he turns back to the fire. It takes a few moments before he nods, the light shining off his dark hair and his crown.

“I’ll work on it,” he says, resolved. He turns back to you, and when he speaks again, his voice is so unsure, so timid, that you have the sudden urge to hold onto him with one arm and use your other to draw your sword and fend off anything or anyone in the world who might come near and cause him harm. “Can you help me do it?”

You nod. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” he clears his throat, shakes his head. “I’m going to need more than my own forgiveness for being late to these negotiations.” He makes no move to get up. His gaze wanders across the room, as if seeing it for the first time, before landing on the window and studying the portal to the frozen, white world beyond it.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t feel up to it.” Then, trying to lighten the mood, you bump your shoulder against his. “I’m sure Susan and Lucy ganging up on the ambassadors will give them a run for their money.”

Edmund chuckles, settles back on the rug. “Good, because I honestly don’t think I can look into the eye of a person who tried to give me Turkish Delight without hitting him over the head with my sword.”

Even though you’re in a relationship, it’s maybe the most vulnerable that Edmund has ever been with you. He places his head in your lap and stares into the hearth as you card your hands through his dark locks.

“Spring is coming soon,” he mutters, his voice heavy with the sleep that’s trying to catch up with him. “Maybe then I can start over . . . Would be nice to not have to worry about freaking out over a bad gift and embarrassing myself in front of the whole court.”

“Spring will come again,” you remind him, voice soft in case he’s already dropped off to sleep. “And we will greet it with open arms and grateful hearts.” Then, for good measure, you add a new line to aid you through your latest challenge. “And it will allow us to start over.”

[bellisima-writes]

So, this happened today:

200K WORDS PUBLISHED ON AO3....WHAT??

And it's making me feel all sorts of emotions.

I was 41 last year when I sat down to write for the first time in my life. FORTY ONE. A mom of two who'd never considered doing anything creative like that before. Because I'd been too insecure to even try. Too worried my vocabulary wasn't broad enough, that I'd never be able to pull the right words to say what I meant. Too worried about my ineptitude with grammar, and how varying my sentence structure and leaving passive voice behind was always such a struggle for me in school. Too intimidated by the talent in this fandom and in the world to ever consider adding my voice to the mix.

But I did it anyway. And you know what? All of that is still true. My words are still simple, my sentences still not as varied as I'd like and I abuse commas like nobody's business. But I've also improved, and used these character traits as part of my unique voice. Because it is my voice, and while others could likely rewrite my work more poetically than I ever could, it would no longer be mine.

And those 200k words? Those are mine. And I am proud of them, regardless of how many hits or kudos or comments they get or don't get. Because I created them myself.

So, if you've been a part of the fandom and wanting to try out something new but worried it wouldn't be good enough or received well, I am here to say GO FOR IT. Do it, for you, because when you're done you will have something real and tangible that you can always look back on and say is all yours, brought into this universe because of you and only you. Your take on this word is unique and it deserves to be given life in only the way you can.

Anyway, I get sentimental sometimes, and this stirred up lots of feels in me today. New Yorkers are coconuts, we are tough on the outside but a whole mess of liquid on the inside. Anyone who ever tells you different is a liar.

Keep doing what you do fandom, because it's awesome and no one else can.

[yolli-es]

PiltoverAU!Jinx × Reader 💜

English is not my native language, in most cases I used a translator. I also plan to write something with StarGuardian!Jinx × Reader. SORRY IF THE TEXT LOOKS STRANGE AND STUPID!! I DON'T KNOW HOW TO PLACE COMMAS! 🙌🏻

On the bridge, Jinx and Vi were taken not by Vander but by one of the enforcers (Grayson? It doesn't matter).

Her name is still Powder, but she decided to choose a "cool" name for herself and became "Jinx"

Due to her haste and carelessness in her work, this quickly became her second name.

Despite the major plot changes, Jinx's passion for inventing weapons hasn't gone away. So now the enforcers have new military technology.

She also graduated from the University of Piltover with honors.

Jinx and Heimerdinger worked together. It all ended with a small explosion, this time unplanned. They just have different views on the future of Piltover.

When Jace created hextech, she made a gun out of it. It was not entirely legal at the time, but her invention was later deemed necessary.

Jinx had long since lost her grudge against Piltover. She remembered little of her life in Zaun.

BUT seeing how everyone in Piltover feared/disdained zaunites made her feel ashamed. And scared.

It was always difficult for her to make new acquaintances; if someone found out about her origins, she would be left alone.

She wouldn't tell anyone that she was actually from Zaun.

Jinx was never seriously traumatized, but she was still afraid of being alone. She's also DAMN jealous; don't play with it.

She was also a little (just a little) crazy.

Jinx still calls her guns funny names. "Pam-Boom" is her favorite.

Jinx is an inventor, but sitting in the workshop all the time is definitely not her thing. She wants and can experience everything herself. For this purpose, she became an enforcer.

Jinx met you when she was running away from the boss because of "too many explosions in Zaun" (she often overdoes it with "negotiations").

You helped her, and now you are friends. That's what Jinx thought.

You quickly resigned yourself to it.

It all started gradually. First she showed you her inventions, then you went to lunch and patrolled together.

You and Jinx also started spending some time together after work.

Jinx seemed funny to you and very sincere.

She even gave you a funny nickname.

But then you became the only one who saw her developments and could go anywhere with her. Even Vi, in some cases, was unable to go to some places with her.

Because you are going with her.

Jinx also can't stop touching you. And now she does it always and everywhere.

It happened so often that you stopped noticing. But your colleagues began to notice the excessive closeness between the two of you.

When there were too many questions for the two of you, you girls realized that you liked each other.

Now not only she want to touch you, but you too.

Now not only she shares her interests and hobbies, but you too.

Now not only did you know Jinx, but she knew you. Or... so you thought that it was so?

You talked a lot about your childhood. And each time, Jinx's body subconsciously contracted. Her childhood was in Zaun, not the most successful.

But she didn't talk about it. She answered all the questions with "I don't remember" and changed the subject. You saw and knew for sure that something was wrong, and she was lying. And yet, you decided to give her time.

And it came. Jinx couldn't keep it inside any longer. She just needed you to know where she came from.

She was shaking, her pupils were dilated, and her breathing was ragged. She was afraid that after this you would leave her. Jinx had never felt such affection for someone before. No one listened to her the way you did, and no one admired her so sincerely. She felt warm next to you.

And when she told you everything, you went to her and hugged her as tightly as you could. All your feelings were put into that hug. You whispered that everything was okay and that you never had any prejudice against Zaun.

She expected anything. Anger, pain, disappointment, disgust. But not acceptance, and certainly not consolation.

It was important to her. Realizing that it doesn't mean anything to you and that you're totally okay with it has made her life easier. Now she shares more often, and it's not always about Zaun.

It's just that now she feels like she can tell you everything.

Now you are in a relationship!

You're lucky you work together. Jinx doesn't have much time for everything.

Don't even think about going on patrols without her. She doesn't want to miss out on all the fun (Jinx just wants all your attention).

She also wants you to invent a new weapon together, but you're not smart enough for that. So you just watch Jinx do everything for you.

Even so, she is happy that you are trying for her.

You've known Vi for a long time, but Jinx insisted on an "official" introduction.

This is how she wants to say that she is serious.

Whenever you tell other people that Jinx is your girlfriend, she glows with happiness. She likes to know that you are not shy around her at all.

Jinx lived with Vi for a long time, but now she could live with you. Fortunately, she has enough money for this (thanks to her genius).

She was the one who suggested it first, and she has already bought you an apartment.

You would never have thought that Jinx could blush so much! When she suggested you live together, she almost fainted from excitement.

Feelings are hard for her

You made Jinx much more confident. When you're around, she can not pretend to be "normal" and she becomes "Jinx", you know?

She really loves you

THANK YOU FOR READING! I am very ashamed because of my English, I hope I wrote it clearly 🥹

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Please anything bestfriend! Or loser! Luke w and Aphrodite!reader!!!!!!

Warnings: not much, kinda short, lmk if it doesn't satisfy anon, sorry it took so long I had to do a really hard math problem for ekko, too many/not enough commas, Luke is a lameo and r spends a lot of time with doves, I know zero Percy Jackson lore I read the wiki fandom article on Aphrodite kids and just used that, also I took like five quizzes and three said I was an Aphrodite kid so like I'm hot guys, enjoy

In the nicest way, Luke was a total fucking loser. He was too busy practicing sword fighting to actually ask anyone out or even get asked out. Luke hadn't even held hands with someone romantically. That didn't stop him from having crushes. He crushed on an Athena kid two years ago and confessed his feelings. That kid laughed in his face and rejected him. The next thing he knew a group of doves was pulling at the kids hair, scratching at their face. They flung their arms up trying to run the doves away. When Luke looked over he saw a small crowd of Aphrodite kids. One stood out to him. You. Something about the air around you seemed intoxicating. You looked him up and down before giving him a nod and walking off with your siblings following behind you. Your one interaction sparked his crush. He's been head over inheels since then.

You two rarely interacted over the years. Luke was just some guy and you were, well, you. Luke tried his hardest not to stare at you anytime he saw you but it was hard. Anytime you were at the lake there was sea foam gently swaying around your ankles in the water, and the amount of seashells around you seemed to increase the longer you spent at the shore. If you were excited and you were practically skipping to your siblings and friends, flowers would bloom around your feet with each step. You would spend your free time sitting on the front checked deck with your siblings. Usually you'd call a dove over you'd all fawn over it, giving it kisses on its head, lots of pets and snacks you'd crumble up. And he...liked swords? How is Luke supposed to get the courage to talk to you much less ask you out?

It wasn't as one sided as Luke assumed. You had your eye on him long before you stepped in on his confession two years ago. You thought Luke was cute. You loved how into his fighting he would get. You thought it was adorable the way he'd scrunch his nose or fiddle with his necklace. You loved a lot about him. Luke was gorgeous and passionate and terribly pathetic. All the best attributes of a man. You just worried about asking him out because you thought he'd think you were tricking him or it was all a big scheme with your siblings.

Luke never asked you out because he was terribly anxious you'd say no. He worried you'd go and tell all your friends and they'd tell their friends and next he'd know it'd be all over camp and he'd be laughing stock. So Luke stuck to just gazing and sighing longingly at you. You always felt his eyes no matter what you were doing and most of the time once you'd find his eyes he'd look away.

So the day you ran up to Luke first thing in the morning, flowers blooming at your feet, Luke almost had a panic attack. You gave him a bright smile and he swore he fell even more in love with you. You said something but he couldn't hear you at all. Luke just stared at you. When your smile started to fall due to his lack of response he finally spoke up. He asked you to repeat yourself.

"do you wanna go out?" Luke froze, which was worse the second time around because now he's stopped talking to you twice in one conversation. You snapped your fingers to get his attention. He startled and ran your words through his head again. Luke quickly nodded his head.

"yes, yeah yeah that'd be good yeah." Your smile returned and clapped your hands together. You gave him a date, time, and where to meet up. Just as quick as you came you left, even more flowers sprouting at your feet. A few doves came down from the sky twirling around you as you ran back to your friends to tell them the spectacular news.

When your date finally rolled around, you were smiling the whole way though. Laughing when Luke did something stupid in an attempt to impress you. Jumping off tall rocks and failing miserably to land on his feet. Picking a flower off the ground and tucking it behind your ear. He climbed up a tree and hung down smiling at you, upside down. You moved closer to him and gently kissed his lips. You pulled back and told him to meet you at the same time next week. Walking away, you heard a large crash. Looking back you saw Luke on his back in the dirt. You called out to him, to make sure you wouldn't be charged with manslaughter. Luke rolled over onto his stomach and smiled at you. You returned it and made your way back to your cabin excited for your next date.

[xuchiya]

princess charm school [k.yeosang]

mentions of: murdered, killed, semi-corruption(?),

i know some of you are like, "Oh its must be similar to barbie?" yes, it is but i'm adding a little reality to it.

barbie m.list || k.hongjoong || p.seonghwa || j.yunho || k.yeosang || c.san || s.mingi || j.wooyoung || c.jongho

Kang Yeosang, he doesn’t know where or what happened, but to him— if fate does it then it might be for him. Yeosang always had a strong belief in fate. He had thought that maybe moments weren’t for him or maybe it is for him but not today, tomorrow or whatever day it would be as long as it sits on the perfect time.

That is until he found himself questioning fate—”Me?”

Why would he find, in a position he would not think of– not even close to being part of some family drama? He stood in the middle of a feud that has nothing to do with him yet it all seems like he is the centre of the problem. Yeosang mentions living in an apartment with his two other friends from his old school– Wooyoung and San– who were studying the art of dancing which to his relief, he was also accepted in the said school until he was invited to a prestigious school— The Starlight Academy.

His aunt who raised him in the academy, eventually pulled him out after an incident and raised him in the urban areas of Aurora— no one knows why but he grew up to be a nice kid and well mannered one too. It was around the age of 14 when he was invited to the academy. He walks in not knowing anything about royalties or tea parties— he knows how to pour himself 4 cups of coffee in a day or swear every time he plays Valorant with Yunho or eats with a simple tableware not with multiple ones.

That is until his Aunt, who has worked in the academy since the beginning, spoke to him about his invitation and his purpose.

“I’m the King’s—?”

“..–princess?” The grand gates of Starlight Academy loomed ahead, a majestic symphony of marble and swirling vines. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Unlike the other students, all exuding an air of practiced poise, I felt like a fish thrust onto land. Coming from a normal family in the city of Aurora, I find my situation quite interesting and downright unbelievable. 

If this moment were to be witnessed by my sister, she would be laughing at how ridiculous this is and how a person like me— a baker in a small city of Aurora— trade my ripped jeans and dirty apron and worn-out sneakers for a sparkling tiara and a frilly dress. 

The letter. This started with a letter, a mysterious yet embossed with a silver star as seal for the letter. Apparently, my “hidden potential” was shined in the lights of Aurora and it is worthy of attending the Starlight Academy, the most prestigious finishing school for princesses of different parts of the country. Intrigued with the future held in my days of becoming a “princess” and slightly terrified of having zero experience and knowledge— aside from curt bows if that would be acceptable— I packed a meager bag and boarded the silver royal Mercedes that whisked me towards the palace of Aurora. 

I looked down on the invitation letter, “How did I manage to get myself an invitation–” It was like nature heard when a text from my sister came in.

    “You’re still young pabo so I put you into this school to learn not only to be a princess but to learn how to sit like a gad damn woman!

Anyways, mom says goodluck and she loves you.” 

I shake my head, a smile on my face.

Now, here I stood, feeling like a misplaced comma in a perfectly punctuated sentence. The other girls—royalties apparently— all with their perfectly coiffed hair and confident smiles, seemed to belong here in this enormous palace. They glided through the academy with practised ease in their steps, mannered laughs tinkling like windchimes. 

In other words, I felt like a total stranger, desperately trying to fit in this circle. I shake my head, come to my senses and push the thought that not many lucky students like me got to be invited to become a student in this prestigious academy for royalties. I sigh, “I can do this.” As I breathe in and out sharply, taking my first step when I was tackled down by a big fur.

“Ack!” Wet glands were smeared all over my face, the sensation was ticklish as I chuckled softly and pushed the big fur away, “Hey hey stop pabo stop!” 

“Oh dear, Charlie stop boy!” As the voice commands the dog, they listen and barks at the owner of the voice. I wiped the remaining saliva off with the back of my hand but a white handkerchief was replaced instead, my heart jumped as a male figure was in my view and wiping off Charlie's saliva. 

“I’m sorry about his behaviour. It is rare for him to act this way. My deepest apologies, my lady.” My eyes gaze at his soft golden hair. As if it came out in the movies, his aura was reflected by the golden sun creating a soft radiant halo behind him as his porcelain skin shines on the bright sun of Saturday. His soft skin is so tender and smooth and the way he handles the situation has my heart in his hands already.

    “Here let me help you up.” His veiny and big hands wrapped on my small ones and pulled me ever so softly— yet it caused me to stumble on my feet and had me crashing on his chest. I closed my eyes in embarrassment and at the same time, I couldn't help but feel like I’m in cloud nine to feel close contact aside from my sister. And maybe I have developed a tiniest crush on this man.

“My lady?” My heart pounded from his voice, going back to my thoughts, I did not come here to flirt and if this is a test then I have absolutely failed so abruptly, I pulled away, laughing awkwardly, “Sorry about .. that. I should get going. Bye!” With an awkward and stiff curt bow, I scurried towards the entrance of the academy leaving the man alone with Charlie, who is looking at his owner with his tongue out.

“Arf.” 

“I know Charlie, she seems … familiar.” The man, Prince Sebastian, sighs, looking across the academy where the Starlight Palace is seen at the back, “I hope she is who we think she is.”

After days, weeks and months of being a student of Starlight Academy, I must say this is amazing. Being able to come out of my shell within weeks, the head minister— Madame Kim was a strict and graceful adviser yet at the same time, an easy going person. She has been giving me advice and lessons to improve. Sebastian has been a great mentor and friend at the same time as I continue practicing my walks, etiquettes and much more. His patients never wavers from the long hours of learning the history of each royalty and whatabouts of their hierarchy and laws.

Sebastian's presence had become an anchor in this whirlwind of transformation. He wasn't just a mentor, patiently drilling me on royal walks and etiquette. He was a friend, a confidante, who shared knowing smiles when I mastered a particularly tricky curtsy and offered gentle encouragement when frustration threatened to bubble over.

His dedication went beyond social graces. We spent countless hours delving into the kingdom's history. He unravelled the intricate tapestry of past rulers, their triumphs and failures, their impact on the ever-evolving hierarchy and labyrinthine laws. His lessons weren't dry recitations of dates and names.

Until Madame Kim encouraged another student that she proudly spoke to, to tutor me since Sebastian and I’s schedule were different so and here I thought we would get along but spoke too soon when he suddenly blurted out.

“You’re not a princess, so stop acting like one.” Kang Yeosang spoke nonchalantly. My mouth drops when I straighten my back after doing a curtsy before dancing, I watch him walk away— leaving me alone in the ballroom. My face was a shade of red hue from the embarrassment and shame.

   And ever since then, I had hated his guts for technically criticizing everything I do, even by just closing a book, “A princess needs to close the book silently. You close it like it's an encyclopedia.”

“... and then he proceeds just criticizing my every move. Madame Kim told me that I’m improving and you’re telling me that I’m improving. So I don’t know what his problem is.” I rant to Sebastian as we strolled down the hallway. He chuckles, hands behind his back as we make our way towards the library, “Don’t take it down to heart dear, he is just like that. You’ll get used to it.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes, “His panties get twisted all the time.”

Sebastian has been accompanying me since the very beginning of my princess life—after he apologies about George’s sudden attack but even so, Sebsatian had made my adjustment to my new life better and I have been thankful for this beautiful angel saving me from what could lead me to my last string of sanity.

From speaking fluently in the accent of Aurora’s language, he praised me for immediately picking up the language as if it had been programmed in me to speak that language. Then to let me read at least (a size of my hand) books each week and summarize them towards dancing waltz for 2 hours. 

“A princess never rolls her eyes and tame that tongue of yours.” I yelp, jumping to the side as Yeosang’s deep voice echoes the library. Sebastian chuckling, patting my hand that was gripping his biceps, I apologized to Sebastian before moving away. I look at Yeosang, scoffing, “A prince should know speaking nonchalantly makes him less handsome.”

Yeosang glanced by the corner of his eyes, “I am speaking in a truthful manner.”

  He had a book in one hand while the other tucked in his pockets, uniform neat and well-ironed and his blonde hair pushed softly in his reading glasses, giving an accessible view of his forehead. His aura gives off a simple yet elegant look that makes my heart leap at how perfect he looks. My eyes widen slightly before moving past him, looking for the book of Aurora. “I can talk as I can and I will roll my eyes as much as I want even if I become a queen.”

Yeosang said, “I hope this queen you highly speak for yourself can see a brain up there.” which I yelp, embarrassed, “Shut up!” 

Sebastian watches the scene unfold and laughs silently, “I must remind both of you that you have Etiquette later at 3 pm sharp.”

Yeosang closed the book with one hand, looking at Sebastian, “Thank you but no need to remind me, I’m on my way actually.” With that he walks off, bumping his shoulder to Sebastian. I felt that bump a little too personal, looking at Sebastian, “You okay?”

Sebastian stood firmly after the bump–being a little personal— before sighing gently, “Yeah.”

I stood at Etiquette class with a nervous vibe radiating off my body as I heard Madame Kim would not be able to attend and sent off a different adviser, Lady Choi. She is the sister of the late Queen Choi of Aurora, who apparently died in an accident along with her husband and their first born baby.

Lady Choi is the definition of perfection and that made me more nervous. Unfortunately, Sebastian is not in this class and he will be taking this one tomorrow and another unfortunate thing is I shared this class with Yeosang.

Then, a hand landed on my shoulder, startling me. It was Yeosang, his usual stoicism replaced by a hint of concern. "Feeling overwhelmed?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

"A little," I admitted sheepishly, my heart not being able to register the fact that he is in fact not nonchalant, for once. "Everyone else seems to know exactly what to do."

Yeosang offered a rare smile. "They've probably been prepping for this their entire lives. We'll learn the ropes together." His words held a reassuring weight, and I straightened my spine, a spark of determination replacing the nervous flutter.

Her voice could curdle milk, and her icy gaze made even the most confident students squirm. Lady Choi launched into a lecture on proper posture, teacup holding, and the art of polite conversation. It was all incredibly intricate, the rules seemingly endless.

During a tea demonstration, I fumbled the delicate porcelain cup, sending it clattering to the ground. A wave of mortification washed over me, my cheeks burning. But before Lady Choi could unleash her icy stare, Yeosang stepped forward.

"Excuse me, Madame," he said, his voice calm and polite. "May I demonstrate the proper way to retrieve a fallen cup?"

Lady Choi raised an eyebrow, but acquiesced with a curt nod. Yeosang knelt gracefully, retrieved the broken shards with a practiced ease, and even managed to offer a rueful smile.

"Accidents happen," he said, his gaze meeting mine briefly. "The key is to recover with composure."  He returned to his seat, leaving a stunned silence in his wake. A flicker of a smile played on Lady Choi's lips, something that could have been mistaken for… approval?

The rest of the class passed in a blur of curtsies, napkin folds, and cutlery etiquette. Yeosang, surprisingly, proved to be a natural. He moved with a quiet grace, memorizing the lessons quickly. It’s as if he had grown up here in the academy to be a prince or was he really born to be a prince or is he …

During a break, I found myself next to him in the rose garden. Sebastian texted me that he will be off his study in the next hour. "Thank you," I said, unable to contain my admiration.

He shrugs. "You must act calmly in any situation."

"How long have you been here?" Suddenly my words came out before I could even think about it. I was about to apologize but Yeosang had already said, “Been here since I was a kid but I was pulled out and came back again at age of 14. ”

I nodded, my feet swinging slightly, “That explains why you know so much about being a .. royalty.”

“Because I am.”I look at him. Hearing my silence, he looked over at me with an unreadable face. The sudden turn of the topic was giving me slight curiosity as to what kind of Royalty drama this is. “So you’re a prince..?”

“I am a prince based on what my aunt told me— I came from the line of Kang’s but an accident happened the same as the late royalties .. “ He pauses then looks around before turning to you, “But from what I heard the daughter is alive.”  The word hung in the air, and Yeosang's expression turned serious. My eyes widened, so the rumors or the article that I read a few days ago about the history of the Choi family tree were true. 

The late King and Queen died in an accident after the coronation of the King’s brother— which a month later the King was also found dead and the Queen was accused of murder. It was concluded an accident even though there were multiple signs that it was planned but it was debunked by Lady Choi saying that there was a spy during the night of the coronation party of the King’s brother. 

  The Queen was in a hospital or facility after going berserk finding out of her husband’s death. And adding more to the overlapping accusation towards her and what snapped from her last string of sanity is her baby missing or from what she heard—was also killed.

   It was gruesome and heartbreaking. The Kingdom of Mist— the King’s brother’s kingdom was left in the dust and not so many citizens stayed before fleeing to different parts of the kingdom. 

Kang Yeosang, he doesn’t know where or what happened, but to him— if fate does it then it might be for him. Yeosang always had a strong belief in fate. He had thought that maybe moments weren’t for him or maybe it is for him but not today, tomorrow or whatever day it would be as long as it sits on the perfect time.

That is until he found himself questioning fate—”Me?”

Why would he find, in a position he would not think of– not even close to being part of some family drama? He stood in the middle of a feud that has nothing to do with him. Yeosang mentions living in an apartment with his two other friends from his old school– Wooyoung and San– who were studying the art of dancing which to his relief, he was also accepted in the said school until he was invited to a prestigious school— The Starlight Academy.

His aunt who raised him in the academy, eventually pulled him out after an incident and raised him in the urban areas of Aurora. It was around the age of his early 20’s when he was invited to the academy.

“I’m the King’s descendant?!” Yeosang exclaimed.

“Huh?!” Sebastian looked at me with a ‘wtf’ look. I shrug.

After staring at the photograph of Queen Amelia and King Raphael with their first born baby girl— Anastasia and their royal dog, “George!” Sebastian and I pointed at the same time at the similar golden retriever dog that never left my side when I first stepped inside the palace. Yeosang glance at the picture to the side, the King and his father stood side by side. His fingers grazed gently on his father’s face then towards the names,

King Choi Raphael & King Kang Yeo-saHis eyebrows frowned, his mind was slightly jumbled on the names. Choi and Kang? Weren’t brothers supposed to share the same last name? And it is a tradition for the female spouse to take the last name of the husband. So why were their last names different? 

   “We have to stop Lady Choi …” Suddenly a dawn of realization washed over me. I look over my shoulders, “Lady Choi might have been behind this fiasco that happened 21 years ago. If I am the princess of Aurora then I am the rightful heir of that throne. I cannot let my parents be thrown off that throne just like that.”

Yeosang, for once, saw a different side when he glanced at you. He saw the fiery determination to bring justice to your parents. 

"The crown," Sebastian explained, his gaze fixed on me. "It's shrouded in legend. Some say it could bring ruin upon the kingdom, a fate worse than anything we've known. But there's a chance. If the rightful heir is revealed and claims their birthright as Queen, Aurora might be spared."

Yeosang took my wrist, “Let’s go.” I nodded. The royalty of Aurora and my parents who were the city’s late King and Queen made me the princess of Aurora. The day that I was found in the urban areas of Aurora was the day my mother tried to save the Queen— my real mother—from losing too much blood but in the end…

“Anastasia must be kept safe until she becomes the rightful Queen.” Taking her last breath after giving me to mom.

 As we reached the coronation room, Yeosang and Sebastian opened the oak double doors, “Stop!” The silence was deafening, the mic of the higher head gave terrible feedback before it dissipated. I walk in— a sudden boost of confidence runs down my veins— after all this has become a rightful path for Aurora and my parents.

“What is this nonsense?! Madame Kim, discipline your students!” Madame Kim looks between me and Lady Choi with a confused look before signaling me to stop yet I carried on.

The booming voice echoed throughout the room, momentarily silencing the stunned crowd. A bead of sweat trickled down my temple, but the knowledge that coursed through me like a newly awakened river pushed back the tide of fear. I straightened my spine, “I, Anastasia Amelia Renaldi, Princess of Aurora, ordered you and the rightful heir of this throne to step down and discontinue this coronation!”

   The crowd grew with murmurs and the media were strained by the drama unfolding. I walk, step by step, forward towards the platform, “You, Lady Penelope Hudgens Choi, are arrested for the murder of my parents— the late King Raphael and Queen Amelia and also the death of King Kang Yeo-sa and Queen Joan.”

Lady Choi scoffed, grabbing a handful of her gown and marched towards me with a furious look, “Stop this nonsense child! Just because you were chosen to be a student here in Starlight Academy doesn’t mean you have to delusion yourself to be the “missing” princess. And what do you mean by the death of Kang Yeo-sa, he is alive and well!”

Yeosang steps in, showing a vial of powdered potion, “This cost not only the life of my parents but the entire kingdom of Mist.” 

Sebastian soon steps in throwing a bunch of photographs, “The bougainvillea— it may seem unharmful but this one has very ornamental vines and thorns used to create numbing pain but with unmount usage of this can cause heart attacks of clog of esophagus due to the thickness and irritation of the powder by inhaling.”

  I stop walking, a victory smile on my lips, arching an eyebrow, “We have more than what you are seeing right now.”

Her face fell, face drained from the realization. I step forward again, “You have been manipulating and giving false information on the media for the past 21 years. You have murdered not mine but Yeosang as well—- the Prince of Mist Kingdom.”

As the truth slowly unfolds in the media, Yeosang and I were able to handle them. From the afternoon sun towards the moonlight of my 22nd birthday, the words keep going around– the crown is still not yet to be given until the investigation is finalized and I am indeed the lost princess of the late King and Queen. That is until the ministry and the courtiers were able to drop down every process and the investigation was concluded after 3 months and the coronation was tonight.

 I looked at the big wall mirror of my new room as I spun to look at the coronation dress given to me by Madame Kim. Everything was overwhelming and I have much been drained this past weeks from the constant meetings and law cases against Lady Choi. 

Until the big day arrived, and Yeosang visited me. 

 “The Kings are not brothers?” He nodded. Yeosang sigh, “They were not related to one another. Many people thought they were one because of how it naturally comes out of them to treat like brothers. I met the late king’s mother; they were never blood related.”

I nodded, “So you’re still a prince?” He chuckles, pushing me slightly making me laugh at him, “Of course your majesty.” Mockingly bowed down. I took a handful of my dress and kicked him on his claves playfully. He laughs gently, making my heart fly with his cuteness. It was just last week we were against each other's throats and now, it's as if fate made a different path for us.

The grand hall of Aurora Palace shimmered in the soft glow of countless candles, casting an ethereal ambiance over the scene. Golden banners bearing the emblem of the kingdom fluttered gently in the breeze, while the air buzzed with anticipation. It was the day of my coronation, a momentous occasion that was supposed to mark the beginning of a new era of prosperity and peace for the kingdom of Aurora.

As I, dressed in resplendent robes befitting my station, made my way to the dais where the crown awaited me, a hush fell over the assembled nobles and courtiers. The weight of responsibility lay heavy upon my shoulders, but I stood tall and proud, chin up, ready to accept my new destiny.

However, just as the whole coronation soon to end where I am about to claim the crown, a commotion erupted at the back of the hall. Gasps and whispers spread like wildfire as Lady Choi, a formidable figure known for her insatiable thirst for power, strode forward with a determined gleam in her eyes. My eyes widened in shock, her figure hunching and dirty— probably escaping the prison and finding multiple ways to get here.

"Stop!" Lady Choi's voice cut through the silence like a knife. "I will not stand by and watch as this kingdom falls into the hands of an inexperienced child." Yeosang, who has been on the side, immediately came to me with a protective arm out.

My heart hammered inside my chest as I watched in disbelief. She was able to escape prison with limited resources yet those were able to let her break free and be here to take the throne, she still has the power and that scared me.

“Tough up princess.” Yeosang whispered. I look at him, gulping down the nervousness down my throat, “I’m trying.”

   With a swift motion, Lady Choi ran towards the stand to snatch the crown from its velvet cushion but Yeosang was faster. He grabbed her arms, Lady Choi grunting trying to pull away from Yeosang’s grip  whilst I stood, hands shaking, “Guards!” I spoke. They immediately took her but— of course she wouldn’t come without backup. 

Multiple men came in and surrounded the securities around the throne room and took Yeosang in their hold. Leaving me defenseless, Lady Choi chuckles darkly, looking at me with her evil eyes, “I will lead Aurora in its finest and majestic era so step down child!”

I shake my head, even with my heart pounding so loudly in my chest and up to my ears, I stood tall, “No.”

  Her lips curled in a nasty smirk, “Such a stubborn child … just like her father.” In impulsive thoughts, she pulled the sword that was attached to Yeosang’s hip and swung it at me. My eyes widen, feet glued to the ground as the silver weapon nears me, “NO! DO NOT TOUCH HER—” Yeosang screamed.

  Lady Choi’s eyes were maniac, “Goodbye princess.”

  “Not on my watch.” A sound of metals clashing and a presence on the left side. I turn to see a female dressed in a musketeer's uniform, the emblem of Diamond Kingdom on her right arm sleeve, “Stand down Lady Choi. You are not to interfere with the coronation of Princess of Aurora, your men are arrested for the crime of trespassing.”

The musketeer kicked Lady Choi on her stomach before standing in front of me, Lady Choi huffs looking up at the musketeer with a sinister smile, “Idiots, protected the wrong treasure!” 

One of her men managed to grab the crown while we were distracted by her and tossed it to her. Catching with one hand, Lady Choi rose up on her feet. My breath hitches as the thought of Aurora’s doomed in just a minute, how I already failed as the new leader of the Kingdom, “No don’t do this please!” The musketeer held me back as we watched Lady Choi raise it high above her head, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though the crown would indeed settle upon her brow, sealing her claim to power.

But then, something extraordinary happened. As if guided by an unseen force, the crown veered off course, bypassing Lady Choi altogether and descending gracefully towards me. Time seemed to stand still as the crown hovered inches above my head, its golden light bathing her in a radiant glow.

“The crown doesn’t need to be protected, it protects it’s rightful heir.” Said the musketeer as she moves to the side. Lady Choi looking in disbelief, her head shaking uncontrollably as she stumbles towards me, “No no no— After I work hard to claim the thrown, I am not letting a child ruin me!”

  In a blur, Yeosang broke free from the men, taking his rightful sword and stood with the tip of the sword deathly on her throat, his eyes were slit with anger, “You have killed so many people, the people of my kingdom and my parents. I am not letting you do the same thing again.”

   Back in the moment, I felt a surge of power unlike anything I had ever known. It was as if the very essence of Aurora itself had chosen me as its champion, affirming my rightful place as its princess. With a steady hand, I reached up and gently took hold of the crown, allowing it to settle upon my head with a soft click. Instantly, a wave of energy washed over me, filling me with a sense of purpose and resolve.

  Lady Choi's face contorted with rage and frustration, but she could do nothing as I ascended towards the throne, every step imbued with grace and dignity. 

“Grace on to the Princess of Aurora!” The musketeer cheered, bowing down on one knee. Soon whoever, along with the men, inside the room all did the same. Yeosang smirks, bowing down too.

“On her grace!”

“Well … that took a huge turn.” I look beside me to see Yeosang, smiling. “I mean we both deserve justice.” I chuckle, looking over the horizon. The beach of Aurora was beautiful with the sun kissing the glimmering water and the salty smell of it sends shivers down my spine. I look down to see a few people surfing and cheering, celebrating their annual competition.

“You know in a few years time, you’ll be crowned as queen right?” I nodded, “I’m still preparing myself Yeo, this whole princess-coronation thing is already overwhelming and all the drama is happening.” Yeosang understood that if I took more of the responsibility, I would have wished I never intervened with all the clues of the missing princess and Lady Choi’s plans.

  Yeosang looked over, taking my hands in his big ones, “And that is why I’m here. I’ll be crowned as Prince in a few months and maybe, together we can make this kingdom a better place for our people.” 

I smile, squeezing his hand and at the same time bumping my hips to his, “Such charming prince.”

As I stood before my people, I knew that my journey was just beginning. With the crown upon my head and the support of my kingdom behind me, friends to push me to keep fighting and Yeosang to stand by me, I am ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, secure in the knowledge that I was destined to rule as the true princess of Aurora.

[em-dash-press]

Grammar, Spelling, and Punctuation: Writing 101

I adored grammar lessons in grade school, but I realized they were specific to the school I was in when I switched school systems.

Not everyone gets to grow up with grammar quizzes and sentence diagram tests. Don’t feel bad if you can’t tell an em dash from a hyphen! Browse this guide and you’ll refresh yourself on everything you need to know.

Note: this is for American English and assumes you already speak it as a first or second language. It won’t explain verbs, nouns, etc. Also, some parts will vary by in-house style guides with various publishers. However, you can use these refreshers to problem-solve your WIP and feel more confident about how you wield your words.

1. Punctuation Around Dialogue

American English grammar rules almost always firmly state that punctuation around dialogue goes inside quotation marks.

Examples:

Wrong: “I don’t want to go to the park”, she said.

Right: “I don’t want to go to the park,” she said.

This rule won’t apply if you’re asking about something someone said. Otherwise, punctuation always goes inside the quotation marks to end what’s being said.

Examples:

Wrong: Did the teacher say, “Do your homework?”

Right: Did the teacher say, “Do your homework”?

Also, dialogue tags always have a comma separating what’s being said from the tag itself. That’s because the tag is an integral part of the dialogue since it identifies who’s saying the spoken words.

Examples:

Wrong: “I love chocolate ice cream.” he said.

Right: “I love chocolate ice cream,” he said.

2. Adjectives vs. Adverbs

Adjectives and adverbs often get confused. They both start with “ad” and describe other words. So what do they mean?

Adjectives are descriptors that apply to nouns.

Adverbs are descriptors that often end in -ly and apply to verbs, adjectives, and other adverbs. (Basically anything but nouns.)

Examples:

Adjective: He is a hairy cat. [“Hairy” describes the noun “cat.”]

Adverb: The hairy cat ran quickly across my yard. [“Quickly” describes the verb “ran.”]

Adverb: He really likes to roam. [“Really” describes the verb “likes.”]

Adverb: Even though we have a very small neighborhood. [“Very” describes the adjective “small.]

Adjectives are also considered stronger descriptors in writing because they’re more specific. Using adverbs occasionally is often fine, but publishers and editors that sift through submissions with a fine-tooth comb don’t like repeated adverb usage when a more direct description could fit the sentence.

Examples:

Adverb: I really enjoy going to the movies.

Stronger verb: I love going to the movies.

3. There, They’re, and Their

People often get these confused because the English language is very confusing. To put it bluntly:

There: a location

They’re: a contraction for “they are”

Their: the possessive pronoun form of “they”

Example:

They’re driving their car to that store over there.

4. Run-On Sentences and Fragments

Run-on sentences go on for too long. Fragments are incomplete sentences.

You’ll know both when you spot them because it isn’t how people normally talk. People pause to collect their thoughts, take a breath, and describe their thoughts in complete sentences (even with slang, the sentences still make sense).

Examples:

Run-On Sentence: She went to work and had a meeting at 11:00 before going to lunch at the restaurant across the street which had her favorite food on the dessert menu so she enjoyed it before going back to work and clocking out at 5:00. [This sentence addresses six different actions in too many phrases for a running list of commas with a conjunction at the end.]

Fragment: Every single animal. [Every animal what? There’s no context, so the sentence is incomplete. Sometimes writers use fragments as creative descriptors if they break grammar rules effectively, but you have to know how to avoid fragments to use them well.]

5. Em Dashes

Ah, the em dash. I’m so biased when it comes to this punctuation mark.

Em dashes indicate a purposeful pause, followed by essential information. They can also distinguish phrases or lists in the middle of a sentence.

Most importantly, they’re the length of an m.

You’ll know you’re using them correctly if you can replace your em dash with a pair of commas, a colon, or a semicolon.

Examples:

I love using em dashes—especially for sentences like this—so I may use them a little too often. [You could replace the em dashes with commas and it would still be correct.]

I couldn’t resist it—Em Dash Press had to be the name for my blog. [This em dash could be a semicolon.]

6. En Dashes

En dashes are the little sibling to em dashes. En dashes are two hyphens long or the length of an n. They point out the range in numbers or time, but can also stand in for “to” or “and.”

Examples:

The war lasted from 1434–1442.

I’ll be at the library from 6:30–7:30 p.m.

The final score was 32–34.

You have a ticket on the Chicago–New York flight tomorrow evening.

7. Hyphens

At this point, you’re likely wondering what’s even left for hyphens to do. The answer is quite a lot.

It’s one dash wide and joins words.

Examples:

Hello, my name is Alvina Stuart-Kelly.

I’m looking for a dog-friendly apartment.

She has a two-year-old child.

Typically, they don’t go after adverbs and don’t join words after nouns.

Examples:

Incorrect: My apartment is dog-friendly.

Incorrect: That child is two-years-old.

8. Commas (Oxford and Otherwise)

Commas are a curse and a gift for writers. Myself included. 

We often use commas that are unnecessary because in our mind, that’s where we’re pausing to breathe or collect our thoughts as we type the sentence.

Sometimes it just feels right to use too many—until it’s time to edit.

There are multiple types of commas. The first is the comma that connects a coordinating conjunction (and, but, or, for, so, yet, nor).

Example:

He’d love to hang out, but he has to finish his homework.

A comma can also go after an introductory phrase.

Example:

When we last spoke, it was still November.

Commas also go around phrases within a sentence.

Example:

My neighbor, who is a great painter, is open for commissions.

Then there’s the Oxford comma, which goes before the coordinating conjunction at the end of a list.

Example:

We need to get paper towels, apples, and flour at the supermarket.

You can also place a comma in between two nouns that are interchangeable.

Example:

The fresh, cheesy soup is delicious.

The cheesy, fresh soup is delicious.

There should be a comma after a conjunctive adverb at the beginning of a sentence if it’s contrasting something.

Example:

I don’t like swimming in rivers. However, I’ll make an exception for you.

Introductory prepositional phrases (you can find a complete list of prepositions below) also get followed by a comma if they’re more than four words long. However, you can put them after smaller prepositional phrases too. 

Examples:

[“After the game” is the prepositional phrase below.]

Correct: After the game we should get milkshakes.

Also correct: After the game, we should get milkshakes.

Also correct: After the game ends tonight, we should get milkshakes.

When a prepositional phrase ends a sentence, you don’t need to put a comma before it because they’re typically describing a verb.

Incorrect: We should get milkshakes, after the game ends.

Correct: We should get milkshakes after the game ends. [“After the game ends” is describing the timing of the verb “get” in relation to the object “milkshakes.”]

9. Prepositions

Prepositions are words that come before a noun, verb, or pronoun to indicate details like the place, time, direction, location and relationship to an object.

There are too many prepositions to list in this post, but you can find a ton of them over on this website.

Examples:

He left ~for college~.

They were born ~in 1972~.

~From September to November,~ I’m going to be very busy.

You’ll know you’re using a preposition incorrectly when it’s essentially dangling at the end of the sentence or can be removed without changing the meaning of the sentence.

Examples:

Incorrect: Where’s the mouse at?

Correct: Where’s the mouse?

Incorrect: He leapt off of the couch.

Correct: He leapt off the couch.

Notably, some uses of prepositions are colloquial. In real-world conversations, you might say things like, “Where are you at?” and that’s absolutely fine. It’s even fine to use them like that when writing dialogue for characters who have a specific vernacular usage of them, like regional or cultural phrasing.

When neither of those are present in the written word, editors will recommend revising your sentences to reflect prepositional usage rules like the ones above.

10. Apostrophes

Apostrophes have a couple different jobs.

First, they show possession when something or someone owns something.

Examples:

That is Henry’s car.

Watch out for the tree’s loose branches.

Apostrophes also go after an “s” if the plural noun has possession of something.

Examples:

The stores’ new parking lot looks much better.

The wagons’ wheels were made of wood.

The classmates’ party just began.

When a plural noun doesn’t end in an s, it usually gets the standard apostrophe before an s.

Examples:

The sheep’s pen needs a repair.

The people’s voice matters.

The women’s shoe section is over there.

Apostrophes join words to create contractions too. Contractions join two separate words to save time, effort, or word count. They’re what most people use in everyday language because contractions are less formal in tone. (I just used one in that previous sentence!)

Examples:

It’s time to go to bed.

They’re making dinner now.

I can’t run very far.

11. Colons

We use colons to make sense of too much information. Basically, they give order to lists, phrases, or titles.

Examples:

They need to call the following guests: Isabelle, Ana, and Richard.

The Urgent Need for Answers: A Call for Solutions to Healthcare Inequities [This would be the title of an academic paper, book, or article.]

We have one thing in common: the desire to write more stories.

12. Semicolons

Don’t be afraid of semicolons; they are here to help you!

Semicolons join two related ideas or clarify lists with multiple long phrases.

Examples:

I ate dessert before dinner; life is about doing what makes you happy. [The second half of the sentence provides clarity or reasoning to the first half. The semicolon could get replaced by an em dash or “, because” if you preferred it that way.]

When I wake up, I brush my teeth with an electric toothbrush; swish a sensitive-teeth mouthwash in my mouth for 30 seconds; and wash my face while I shower. [If you replaced the semicolons with commas, the phrases would be considered too wordy. Semicolons provide more visual order for readers in this context.]

13. Exclamation Marks

Some people avoid ever using exclamation marks. Others use them all the time.

I say that the correct usage depends on the situation.

If an overly enthusiastic, excited kid were telling their friends they were going to Disney World, they might breathlessly say something like, “I just got the best news! My mom got time off of work! So we’re going to Disney World!”

However, if a more serious or laid-back person said they had a good day and wanted to describe it, they’d likely say, “My day was good! I had a great lunch and the drive home was easy.” Finishing the last sentence with an extra exclamation mark would be out of character for them.

You also wouldn’t want to use exclamation marks in formal writing settings, like academic papers or newspaper articles, because it would come across as too casual. But it’s fine if you’re writing a social media post or texting a friend.

As long as the exclamation mark indicates excitement or urgency, you’re using it correctly. Consider who’s speaking and why to figure out if their dialogue would result in more than an occasional exclamation mark.

-----

I hope this helps clarify the basics so you’re more confident about writing your next story. Grammar is complicated and ever-changing (I’m looking at you, AP Style Guide), but you can count on these basics to structure things correctly for your readers.

[makuzume]

Genshin HCs on how they text their s/o?

Genshin Men Texting their s/o Headcannons (Part 1)

Characters: Neuvilette, Itto, Childe, Ayato

Content: GN! reader; Genshin AU; established relationship; slightly suggestive (Ayato only)

[Masterlist] [Part 2]

💙Neuvilette💙

He has a very formal way of texting: well structured, complete with commas, semi-colomns, dashes, and quotation marks. It's not that he doesn't feel close with you to speak more casually, it's just that it's his natural way of speaking/texting (he already thought he was using casual texting).

Apologizes a lot if you comment on his manner of texting and might try to make it a bit more 'casual,' though it felt too off when he tried it, so you asked him to just text what he's comfortable with.

Sometimes asks you the slang terms used in the newer generation. "Dear, what does sjfskflak stand for? You mentioned that yesterday and I could not find the definition for it." Or even "Dear, what is U.W.U.? Is that some organization from Sumeru? It sounds quite familiar."

He will react to the Reels/TikToks you send him, though he says he will get back to it later on his free time (he always remembers).

There are times when he completely gets drowned in his worked and hasn't said goodnight to you or view your texts the whole night (He apologizes the next day.) Though his instinct is to always greet you good morning once he sees the sun peeking through his window, it's a reminder for him, and he never missed a day to say "Good morning, my dearest. Did you sleep well last night?"

💛Arataki Itto💛

Reading his texts feel loud and lively, it's chaotic- a lot of times he uses uppercase letters, stickers, GIFs, and emojis to express his emotions even further. It's like you can really hear his voice when he texts.

Replies with silly stickers and meme reactions when he's either reading your messages or when he talks about something.

Will literally send his entire IG/Tiktok feed of memes or cool stuff to you.

Typos and wrong spellings all the time.

Itto will update you constantly, he'll send practically everything that reminds him of you "this beetle has ur vibe idk y" or anything mildly interesting that he's doing because you're also his bff got slushies but soem brat ran into me snd spillde it"

Expect constant facetiming for him to show you random stuff, tell a story that just happened, if he's bored, when he's walking through a dark alley and is secretly scared, or if he feels lonely while taking a dump for too long. He's also the type to make silly faces or poses when you accept his call.

He always finds a way to make the most mundane things sound like such s story to tell.

When he feels that your mood isn't vivbing that day, he will always try to lighten the mood through memes or tell you to "lay it on me, my campadre" and do whatever he can think of to cheer you up when he makes a surprise visit (comes over that night with your favorite snack, holding a flower in his mouth, and giving you a rizzed up look to make you smile)

You change his name too frequently it gets confusing sometimes (recent names: beetle dude, Gordon Ramslay, Deoderant, CheesePuff, Guy from McDonalds)

🧡Childe/Tartaglia🧡

There could only exist one: He's either incredibly busy from work and unresponsive for hours/days or he suspiciously has too much free time to be replying a little too quickly to your messages. (He lets you know beforehand if he will be inactive for a while)

Loves using every cute, funny, sweet pet name when texting you. His personal favorite is either babe or one of the many funny ones he can think of like sweet thang, boss, nerd, etc. (if that doesn't offend you)

When he does respond after being gone for days- Childe will send the most random, out of context photos of what he's been up to recently, out of no where (Photo of him on the top of a skyscraper antena, inside a submarine, Mt. Everest, an illegal substance den-) Often this is because this is where his work usually takes him and at the very moment he was done with work he figured he'd text you.

Sends screenshots from chats with his siblings or send photos about his family, talks about them A LOT.

Happy to open his phone and see your messages and see the links you sent, he's just excited to talk to you. He will go "US", "lmaoo", or "FR" and if you send a nice place from a reel/tiktok, he will book a reservation right away to surprise you that week.

INSTANTLY replies the moment he gets a notification from you even if he's at work. (except during those long, complicated missions where he says he will be inactive) you were confused one time where he would view your message, leave you on read for a minute, and reply (you found out later that he was in the middle of beating up some people in their headquarters who owed them money)

💜Ayato💜

Calls you sweetheart, darling, my love, and every other affectionate name. He isn't shy to say anything to you through texts. He's sweet and lets you know exactly how he feels.

Loves teasing you in a subtle, flirty way in his texts, it his way of showing his attraction and affection towards you. Sometimes, he does this during a time when you're outside or if you're out with another guy just to make sure you're reminded that only he knows how to make you blush. Imagining your reactions also amuses him (he knows exactly what to say to make you flusterred and embarassed)

Sends photos of things Ayaka made and things Ayaka she did recently because he acts like a proud grandfather when it comes to her.

Asks you to send photos of yourself when he feels particularly clingy or misses you

There are days he forgets to reply the entire day/night because of his insane workload- but remembers you the next day when he wakes up and realizes 'no wonder my day felt incomplete yesterday': He didn't get to talk to his sweet beloved.

Sometimes texts can get a little more flirty and turn a bit spicy

You get texts from him asking you to check your door (he sends you food and flowers to spoil you and make you smile).

[note: I'm no Itto simp but fave one I made was his]

Check out my other works [Masterlist]

[late-to-the-party-81]

Answer the questions and tag five fanfiction authors you know!

Thank you @metalbvcky. NPT for @mrs-illyrian-baby @doasyoudesireandlive @km-ffluv @labella420

🍓 How did you get into writing fanfiction?

As a teen I was a voracious reader and tried to write my own stuff based on other books I'd read. I also loved ST:TNG and wanted dearly to be in an episode and had lots of the books. I wrote my own ST stories with OC's (gratuitous self inserts), but they never went anywhere. In my late teens I read some Xena fanfic on the internet. But that was it for a great number of years.

At the beginning of 2021 I sat and watched the entirety of the MCU films in chronological order (I'd seen most of them before and was mainly a Thor gal.) I fell down the Stucky rabbithole. Deep. I decided to look up fanfic. AO3 was now a thing! I wrote (a very poor) Stucky fic and here we are, almost 3 years later

🍇How many fandoms have you written in?

As my ST stuff never made it further than my parent's old PC in the days of dial-up, I won't count it.

I've written for MCU, various Chris Evans and Seb Stan Characters and one fic for RWRB. I've been toying with writing a one-off Criminal Minds fic as a gift for a friend.

🍈How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

Three in July since I first published anything on AO3.

🍎Do you read or write more fanfiction?

I try to balance it out. If I have a period of hyperfocus writing I try to then go through a period of reading. I read on both Tumblr and AO3, so try to keep that even as well.

🍌What is one way you've improved as a writer?

Getting betas to pick me up on tense changes, overuse of words and rogue commas. Reading more. Practising. Writing outlines for longer stories so I don't go off-piste.

🍑Do you have any bad habits as a writer?

Getting bored half-way through a long fic, especially if the first few parts haven't had a lot of interaction. Which is why I try to write the whole thing before I start posting.

🍍 What's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Engineering courses at MIT and, for a separate fic, Violet wands, including the ways to use them and the differnt types of accessories you can use with them. I even watched a Youtube video.

🍉What's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

Any comment! Anything that gives me the validation I need!

🍐What's the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

I wrote a transformation into Tsum-tsum fic that was both cracky and smutty. That's pretty niche.

🥭What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

Action scenes. I loathe them. I'm constantly wondering if they are long enough, and make sense.

🍏What is the easiest type?

Short things that are either PWP or fluffy slices of life.

🍑Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

Mainly on my elderly laptop on G-Docs, and in every moment I can - normally afterwork before dinner and on Mondays when I don't have work.

🍋What is something you've been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

There are a few characters and ships I haven't written that I'd like to. And I suppose I'd like to write a proper long, over 100k fic at some point.

🍇 what made you choose your username?

When I made my AO3 account I felt as though that at 40, and only really starting in Fandom in this way, I was late to the party, so that is who I became.

[missamyrisa2]

15 questions for 15 friends:

Thanks for thinking of me for these questions, @lady-featherquill ~ this is like mmmmh a certain kind of tingle blushhh tickle for me to be called on~

Were you named after anyone?: Yess I was named after Burl Ives, but you wouldn't know it because I spell and pronounce my name differently~

When was the last time you cried?: I made the mistake of thinking about The Lion King a few hours ago~

Do you have kids?: I make kids all the time. Like crying over the lion king because I randomly was thinking about how real to life the animation was of Simba pulling on Mufasa's ear and holygodddddd he was trying to wake his dad up whyyyyyyy are animators so supremely great at heartsqueezing~~~ I'm just kidding. That was a kid.

What sports do you play/have you played?: all of them I think~ I live by the fake it until you make it mindset and I'm still figuring out the latter part of that. But I did study pickleball thoroughly under its venerable founder, The Earl of Pickle

Do you use sarcasm?: William Shakesman said that's the lowest form of brevity so I try to avoid it whenever possible, also I'm horrendously bad at it to where I sound completely sincere and this has resulted in one too many punches to the face because, surprisingly if you poorly sarcastically announce you'd really love to be just hit in the face there are a LOT of people who are all too eager to jump in~

What is the first thing you notice about people?: That they're always trying to figure out if I hate them because I had a fairly consistent RBF crossed with an inclination to be mysterious. Through online interactions I first take note of their comma frequency because that says so much about a person's Oxford-related preferences.

What's your eye color?: Blue or green or grey depending which type of light you shove in my face, followed by whatever my eyelid is because moonlight makes me squint

Scary movies or happy endings?: I like the ones where nothing is really resolved and the story just sort of stops because everyone gave up and it was probably lunchtime so f*ck it~

Any talents?: I can do a hair flip like nobody's business, which is to say no one should ever be in the business of doing such hair flips because I've knocked over more cups and hit my head on more things than anyone should do in five lifetimes.

Where were you born?: I'm fairly certain I've always been, because whenever I attempt to find the record of my birth Mr. Tumnus plays an enchanting tune and I wake up in a cold room.

What are your hobbies?: arguing on the Internet and street corners why Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is better than Brotherhood. I took up the hobby after some guy stole my bicycle which was an outrage, but that was his hobby and he imparted the wisdom which set me on my path which is that a hobby is something that makes you completely miserable and spreads that misery onto anyone unfortunate enough to share your space.

Do you have any pets?: No, no one ever wants to pet me and it's probably because of the below answer

How tall are you?: 6'2

Favorite subject in school?: History. Not so much for the subject matter but because memorizing facts comes obscenely easy to me and I loved writing excessively lengthy essays which went nowhere and were loaded with as many funny words as I could muster like trying to relate an unrelated event to the future of filibustering.

Dream job?: Tending a lighthouse so I could make giant shadowpuppets over the water and make alligator mouths eat the ships.

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