#I swear to god I have to start writing for christian at some point

[fbfh]

HELL YEAH KINDERGARTENER LIFESTYLE. LIVE IT UP BRO!!!!

I’m so glad you’re doing well!!! <333

FUCK YEAH FUCK YEAH. I can't focus on any new shows yet so I spent all day binge watching dance academy with my mom and getting her way overly invested in all that campy 2010s australian teen dance school drama. the iconic pointe shoe slap. the emotional gutwrenching details of Christian's character. the second hand embarrasment at everything Tara says and does. I swear to GOD I could talk about dance academy enough to fill a podcast. I cannot wait for her to meet Grace. it's going to get so messy.

[sebscore]

gen-z driver chaotically taking over martin’s grid walk? thank you!!

KEEPING UP WITH THE GRID

pairings: f1 team principals, drivers and ex-driver x driver!reader (im too lazy to name everyone im sorry)

warnings: swearing. christian horner. mention of a nipple tweak.

author's note: anon, you are a legend for requesting this! I'm not too proud of the writing, since I wrote this in the middle of the night and my brain doesn't function normally then. but i hope you like it anyway, darling! let me know your thoughts!!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

Y/N was mindlessly scrolling through her phone when a sudden loud voice interrupted her peaceful time. ''How are we feeling about today, Y/N?'' Martin bent his knees, so he could hold the mic up to her face as she sat on the ground. 

''Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me.'' She cursed, quickly covering her mouth as she knows she isn't supposed to swear on Sky Sports. ''Uh, I'm feeling pretty good about it, I'm starting on the second row, so not too bad.'' The driver answered his question, smiling sheepishly. 

''You like having alone time before a race?'' He continued, a grin on his face. 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. ''I just happen to be alone right now, sometimes I'm chatting with my team or with some of the other drivers.'' 

''Martin, you look a bit tired, you want to sit down?'' She patted the space next to her, feeling bad that he was crouching down while she comfortably sat on the grass. 

The former F1 driver held a look of surprise on his face. ''In all my years I've been doing this, no one has ever offered me to sit down.'' He gave the camera a glance before slowly letting himself sink to the ground. 

''You know, people always wonder 'Where is Martin?' But no one ever wonders 'How is Martin?' We need to take better care of you.'' The man seemed clueless about what she was saying, but he was amused either way. 

''I'm alright, all that walking takes a lot of energy.'' He responded, pretending to wipe sweat off his forehead. 

Y/N chuckled. ''Yeah, I mean, you've been doing this longer than I've been alive, so I understand that you're tired from all the walking.'' She never let the oppurtunity slip to make him aware of their age gap. 

''Well, let's not talk age,'' he sighed, making her laugh, ''anyway, I think I might just hang around here for the entire segment.'' Martin concluded. 

An idea popped into her head as she heard his words. ''Can I do it? I've always wanted to do it.'' 

Martin was surprised for a second time since joining the young woman. ''You mean I let you go around the grid and talk to people?'' 

She nodded. ''Yes, I love bothering people with my presence.'' Y/N said, matter-of-factly. 

The Brit looked at his cameraman, who adamantly nodded his head to the idea of letting the driver do her thing around the grid. 

Martin let out a deep breath, but handed his mic and headset over. ''Just don't get me fired,'' he said, trying to sound stern, ''and don't curse!'' He quickly added. 

''I won't, I promise! I'll see you later!'' She got up from the ground and put the headset on, slightly altering it so it fit her head perfectly. ''Alright, let's make some controversy.'' Y/N exclaimed, pulling the cameraman along. 

She glanced around the grid, trying to find some interesting people to talk to. ''So, I just need to find a person and ask them questions about whatever I want?'' The athlete asked the cameraman, who simply nodded his head, making the camera shake as well.

''Oh, I love this program!'' She giggled into the microphone, doing a small jump out of happiness. 

Y/N observed the grid, knowing her first ''guest'' needed to be a good one. ''Okay, I've found someone!'' She let the cameraman know, pointing in the direction she wanted to go. 

''Alright,'' she tapped the person's shoulder, having them turn to the camera in confusion, ''the first guest on Y/N's grid walk is the team principal of Mercedes… Petronas… Benz…,'' she tried remembering the full team name, ''Whatever, his name is Susie's husband! Welcome, Susie's husband.'' She introduced Toto. 

The Austrian man was incredibly entertained by the young woman's antics. ''Hello, Y/N.'' 

''I have to ask you- how does it feel to be married to the greatest woman alive?'' She asked him, glancing around to find the woman in question. 

Toto laughed at the question, but proceeded. ''It's great, Susie is an amazing person who has done countless amazing projects and campaigns- I'm a very lucky man.'' The sincere smile on Toto's face when talking about his wife brought a smile to Y/N's face. 

''That's so cute- where is she? I only came over here, because I thought she would be here.'' 

''Unfortunately, she's not here today,'' he told her in a sad tone, ''I know that upsets you, Y/N.'' The driver's girl crush on Susie had been an obvious thing for many years, amusing everyone involved. 

Y/N pouted at his words. ''Well, yeah… that upsets me a lot actuall-''

''What is going on here?'' A British accent interrupted her interview with the team principal. 

''Go away, Russell George! I don't want you on my show.'' Y/N teasingly dismissed George, slapping his arm to get him out of frame. 

The Mercedes driver feigned offense, placing his hand on his heart. ''Why not? I thought we were great friends, Y/L.'' 

''Crikey, crikey, crikey! Don't you have shirtless pictures to post somewhere? Bye bye!'' She quickly got away from the Mercedes team, practically running at one point. 

Y/N let out a big sigh into the mic. ''Martin was right, this is tiring,'' she momentarily stopped in her steps, her hand on her waist, ''OH! Look! It's Charles Lechair!'' Her tiredness from a few seconds before was long forgotten as she strided over to her Monégasque friend. 

''Charles, hello, Charles!'' She put her hand on his back, guiding him to the camera. ''How are you feeling about the race today? What are the strategies? Do they know that word at Ferrari?'' She teased the red team. 

''Uh, we're feeling optimistic today and yeah, I'm ready to give it my all.'' He smiled, putting up his tv-friendly facade, not wanting to trash talk his team on television. 

Y/N raised her eyebrow. ''You're so cute being all positive! Keep that attitude, Perceval!'' She patted his shoulder. ''Thanks for talking to me and good luck!'' She bid him goodbye. 

The young driver walked in all sorts of directions. There were many people present on the grid, yet Y/N had quite a hard time finding people to talk to. It was when she walked by the Red Bull team that she found her next victim. 

''Christian! Christian Horner, hello, welcome!'' She and the team principal didn't have the best history, but she knew the viewers would enjoy the interaction as they knew said history. 

''Everyone, I'm joined here today by Red Bull, uh, Orange, Racing or whatever, F1 Team's team principal, Christian Horner.'' She butchered the team name again, although it was one purpose this time. 

She turned towards the man. ''Christian, I won't hold you up too long, but there is one question that our viewers have been dying to ask you and I think this is the right time to finally do it.'' Y/N build the question up. 

''Yes?'' He seemed a bit nervous, attentively listening to her words. 

''Can you say one nice thing about Y/N Y/L?'' 

The Brit visibly looked relieved at the question, thinking it would be something controversial. ''Of course, she's, uh, a very talented race car driver.'' He nervously smiled at her. 

''You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen, Christian Horner thinks Y/N Y/L is the most talented driver in the history of Formula One!'' She overdramatized his response. 

''You know what they say, keep your friends close, but keep your enemies even closer.'' She patted Christian's shoulder. ''Thanks for the talk, good luck and I hope you don't win.'' Y/N told him before walking off, hearing him laugh behind her. 

''So far, I've talked to Toto Wolff and Christian Horner,'' she said to the camera, ''enemies to, uh, even worser enemies, I guess.'' 

''Guys, we're here with Yuki's boyfriend, Pierre Gasly.'' Y/N stood next to the Alpha Tauri driver, shoving the microphone in his face. He took his airpods out of his ears, already chuckling at the girl's actions. 

''How are you doing?'' 

''I'm-''

''That's all the time we have for you, I'm sorry.'' She didn't let him finish his words and walked away from him, quickly giving him a smile so he knew she was entirely joking. 

She stepped further onto the grid, continuing to look for people. ''A bunch of green outfits, not very fashionable- oh, it's Aston Martin! Let's find Sebastian!'' Y/N mixed herself with the Aston Martin team, trying to catch the German driver. 

''Seb! Seb! Can I ask you a few questions?'' She eventually reached the man, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. 

His signature bright smile covered his face. ''Yeah, but where's Martin?'' 

''Me and Martin made an agreement, I get to do the grid walk and he gets to drive my car later- although, he never won any races, so that might not have been a great decision on my part.'' She told Sebastian, who seemed confused and fascinated at the same time. 

''Well, I think you're doing a great job as reporter.'' He deflected her words, not wanting to get in trouble by saying anything about Brundle's lack of GP wins. 

She smiled. ''Thanks, anyway… I know qualifying didn't go too well for you, but are you optimistic about the race?'' 

''Yeah, quali wasn't what we were hoping for,'' he sighed, ''It's gonna be difficult today, but we're gonna try our best to get as much points as we can for the championship.'' Sebastian finished his answer with an encouraging nod. 

''That's great to hear! You've been- oh my god, is that your dad?'' Y/N had glanced away from Sebastian's face for one second and saw Norbert watching them, waving at her once he noticed her looking at him. ''Okay, bye Sebastian! I'm gonna talk to your dad now.'' 

She walked past the Aston Martin driver to approach his father. ''Can I ask you some questions? I swear it's very short.'' She didn't want to burden him for too long. 

Norbert gave her a thumbs up, not minding being interviewed for a short time by her. ''It's okay.'' 

''Amazing! I mean, you're a legend of the paddock, Norbert! The drivers love you, the fans love you, everyone just loves you! Do you feel the love every time you attend a GP?''

Y/N had a good relationship with him as he and Sebastian would sometimes attend her karting tournaments together. Norbert had given her parents advice on how to support the young girl as best as possible. In a nutshell, the Vettel family were some of the greatest people she had ever met. 

''I do feel it, it's a great feeling and everyone is so nice to me.'' He wasn't very confident in his English, so he kept it short. 

Y/N smiled at him, delighted she got the chance to talk to him. ''You're always super sweet to everyone, so it's only right that we reciprocate your kindness,'' she nodded, ''okay, last question! Apart from Seb, who is the driver you're rooting for today? Is it someone you know very well? Or someone who is standing next to you and is asking you amazing questions?'' She played with a strand of her hair, pretending like she wasn't talking about herself. 

He laughed at her words. ''I'm supporting you, of course!'' He exclaimed, his arm going around her shoulder. 

''Oh! You're the best, Norbert! You're my favorite Vettel for a reason!'' Y/N said extra loud, knowing Sebastian would hear it that way. 

''I'll leave you alone now, thank you so much and I'll see you after the race.'' She gave him a brief hug and he wished her good luck, which she thanked him for. 

The cameraman had difficulties keeping up with her, used to the slower pace of Martin. Y/N noticed this and slowed down, sending him an apologetic look. ''Alright, I've talked to Seb, so I feel obligated to talk to Lewis now.'' She commented, trying to look for the 7x World Champion. 

''Where is he? He shouldn't be this hard to find…'' The athlete always saw the Mercedes driver hanging around the grid, chatting with his celebrity friends or getting ready with Angela. 

Y/N frowned. ''I should lore him or something…,'' she thought for a moment, ''vegan food, I have vegan food! Uh, free skydiving session! Oh my god, is that Roscoe on the track?'' She tried making him appear, but the only thing she got was weird looks from bypassers. 

However, a certain blond man caught her attention instead. ''Okay, I can't find Lewis, but this person knows him very well… or used to at least.'' 

''Britney Spears! Can I interview you for the highly respected tv-show, Y/N's grid walk?'' She snuck up to the former Mercedes driver, catching him off guard, but he played it off. ''Sure, I'm very honored.'' His monotone voice almost made her cringe. 

''First question: is it alright if I call you Britney? I don't know how you feel about the nickname.'' 

Nico chuckled at her. ''You can call me that, Y/N.'' 

''Ooooh~ I'm getting special privileges! I like it!'' She was impressed by Nico's answer, not being sure if he would go along with her humor. 

''Next question! How does it feel to be a Monaco based Youtuber? Do you enjoy the influencer life?'' 

The former World Champion snickered at her question, not expecting her to bring up his Youtube channel. ''It feels great, I'm, uh, yeah, enjoying the influencer life.'' She could tell Nico was doing his best to come off as positive as possible. 

''Nice, good for you, dude! Anyway, this was Britney, the man who beat the 7x World Champion, Lewis Hamilton, in equal machinery in 2016!'' She quoted the meme that was often made online when people talked about Rosberg. 

Y/N didn't wait for Nico's reaction, a bit too scared if she was honest, and made a run for it again. ''I've talked to three German guys- wait, is Nico German? He said once that he doesn't drink beer, so I don't know if he's considered German.'' She rambled on, not even listening to the words that were leaving her own mouth. 

''There's Jenson.'' She caught the Brit talking to his Sky Sports colleagues. ''You know what? I've embarrassed myself enough already, I'm not making it any worse.'' Y/N went in another direction so as to not cross paths with him. 

''Too bad he doesn't drive anymore, I would have loved to give him a lucky nipple tweak.'' Martin and Jenson used to have this running gag of the older man giving him a nipple tweak for good luck before a race. 

Y/N didn't see where she was going and almost tripped over someone's foot. ''Oh, shit!'' She loudly exclaimed, balancing herself so she wouldn't fall. ''Oh, fuck I can't swear- wait, shit! Ugh!'' She pulled the microphone away from her face, that way her curses wouldn't be picked up. 

''This isn't live, right? Cause then I'm in trouble, I think.'' She glanced at the cameraman, who mumbled a small ''It is live.'' 

''THIS IS LIVE?'' Y/N gasped, looking absolutely horrified at the thought of thousands of people watching her at that moment. ''Let's find Martin then, I think I've done enough damage.'' 

She headed back to the place where the presenter had approached her. ''Martin! Where is Martin?'' The driver glimpsed around, but no Martin in sight. ''I have oatmeal!'' She yelled, before making eye contact with the camera. ''Old people love oatmeal, right?'' He simply chuckled, not wanting to shake the camera too much with his laughing. 

''Oh, there he is!'' Y/N spotted the man and made her way over to him as fast as she could. ''I definitely didn't say anything controversial or cursed throughout the entire thing.'' She greeted him. 

Martin looked relieved as she handed his microphone and headset back over to him. ''I was out of my element for a while,'' he joked, ''did you have fun, darling?'' 

Y/N nodded her head. ''Yes, I'm even considering changing career paths.'' She chuckled. 

''That's great,'' Martin smiled, confident she made some amazing television, ''well, I think you're gonna have to go, cause I can see your, uh, coach not looking too happy.'' He pointed towards her performance coach staring daggers at her. 

''Oh, fuck, yeah, bye Martin! Thank you so much!'' Y/N quickly thanked the man for letting her take over his segment and she dashed out of there, hoping her team wouldn't be too upset about her disappearing into the grid to ask everyone ridiculous questions. 

''She's a special one for sure.'' 

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[saintmachina]

One million dollar question: is it true that the Bible condems homosexuality? I had a discussion with two conservatives who sent me some verses that seem to confirm that but i don't know much about the context although i know this is important too

Let’s start here: why is this the million dollar question? Why does it matter what the Bible has to say about sex, or love, or human relationships? At the end of the day, it’s just a book, right?

Oceans of ink (and blood) have been spilled over not only what the Bible says, but what it does, how it functions. The course of empires, nations, and families have been shaped by the contents of this book, and from a historical and cultural perspective, it holds a lot of weight. But you didn’t ask about the sociological, you asked about the theological, so let’s explore. 

Different Christian traditions vary in their approach to scripture. For example: some Protestant denominations believe that the Bible is inspired, inerrant, and infallible. In this paradigm, God is the ultimate author of scripture working through human hands, and the resulting text is both without error and in no way deceptive or mistaken. Similarly, The Second Vatican Council decreed that “the books of Scripture must be acknowledged as teaching solidly, faithfully and without error that truth which God wanted put into sacred writings for the sake of salvation.” When a member of the clergy is ordained into the Episcopal Church they swear that they “do believe the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments to be the Word of God, and to contain all things necessary to salvation.”

Can you see how many of these points of doctrine overlap yet seek to distinguish themselves from one another? Theologians have spent lifetimes arguing over definitions, and even when they manage to settle on solid teachings, the way that the teaching is interpreted by the clergy and incorporated into the lives of the laity varies WIDELY. As much as systematic theology may try, humans aren’t systematic beings. We’re highly contextual: we only exist in relation to others, to history, to circumstance, and to the divine. We simply cannot call up God to confirm church teaching, and I think a lot of people cling excessively to the Bible as a result of the ache (dare I even say trauma) of being separated from God via space and time in the way we currently are.

God is here, but God is not here. God is within us, God is within the beloved, God is within the sea and sky and land, and yet we cannot grasp God to our bodies in the way we long to. In this earthly lifetime, we are forever enmeshed in God, yet forever distinct, and that is our great joy and our great tragedy.

So barring a direct spiritual experience or the actual second coming, we're left to sort through these things ourselves. And because humans are flawed, our interpretations will always be flawed. Even with the presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives guiding us.

When engaging with any sort of Biblical debate, it is essential that you have a strong understanding of what the Bible means to you, an an embodied individual living a brief little awful and wonderful life on Earth. Otherwise it's easy to get pushed around by other people’s convincing-sounding arguments and sound bites.

Here’s where I show my hand. As a confirmed Episcopalian I believe that reason, tradition, and scripture form the “three-legged stool” upon which the church stands, interdependent and interrelational to each other, but I’ve also like, lived a life outside of books. I’ve met God in grimy alleyways and frigid ocean waters and in bed with my lovers. So my stool is actually four-legged, because I think it’s essential to incorporate one’s personal experience of God into the mix as well. (I did not invent this: it’s called the Wesleyan quadrilateral, but the official Wesleyan quadrilateral insists that scripture must trump all other legs of the table in the case of a conflict which...*cynical noises*)

Please do not interpret this answer as me doing a hand-wavey "it's all vibes, man, we're all equally right and equally wrong", but I do absolutely think we have a responsibility as creatures to weigh the suffering and/or flourishing of our fellow creatures against teachings handed down through oral tradition, schisms, imperial takeover of faith, and translation and mistranslation. Do I believe the Bible is sacred, supernatural even, and that it contains all things necessary to find one's way to God, if that is the way God chooses to manifest to an individual in a given lifetime? Absolutely. Do I believe it is a priceless work of art and human achievement that captures ancient truths and the hopes of a people (as well as a record of their atrocities) through symbols, stories, and signs? Unto my death, I do.

However, I am wary of making an object of human creation, God-breathed though it may be, into an idol, and trapping God in its pages like God is some sort of exotic bug we can pin down with a sewing needle.

Finally, we have reached the homosexuality debate. One of my favorite sayings of Jesus is Matthew 5: 15-17: "Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves. You will know them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thorns, or figs from thistles? In the same way, every good tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears bad fruit." In other words: look at what religious teachings have wrought in the world. When I look at homophobic interpretations of the Bible, I see destruction, abuse, suffering, neglect, alienation, spiritual decay, and death. When I look at theology that affirms the holiness of LGBTQ+ relationships, I see joy, laughter, community building, thoughtful care, blooming families, creativity, resilience, and compassion. I see the love of Christ at work in the world. I see the hands of a God who chose under no duress to take up residence in a human body, to drink wine with tax collectors and break bread with sex workers and carry urchin children around on his shoulders. That's my limited little pet interpretation, but hey, that's all any of us really have, at the end of the day.

So, I am absolutely happy to do a play-by-play breakdown of why those passages you were given (we queer Christians often call them "clobber passages" or "texts of terror") don't hold water in a theological, historical, and cultural context. We can talk about Jesus blessing the eunuch and the institution of Greek pederasty and Levitical purity laws and Paul because I've done that reading. I've spent my nights crying in self-hatred and leafing through doctrine books and arguing with my pastors and writing long grad school essays on the subjects. Send me the verses, if you can remember them, and I'll take a look. But it's worth noting that out of the entire Bible, I believe there are only six that explicitly condemn homosexuality AND I'm being generous and including Sodom and Gommorah here, which is a willful and ignorant misreading if I've ever seen one.

In the meantime, I recommend books by people smarter than me! Try Outside The Lines: How Embracing Queerness Will Transform Your Faith by Mihee Kim-Kort, or Does Jesus Really Love Me by Jeff Chu, or Transforming: The Bible and the Lives of Transgender Christians by Austen Hartke!

And take a breath, dear one. Breathe in God, in the droplets of water in the air and in the wind from the south. Breathe in the gift of life, and know that you are loved, now and unto the end of the age and even beyond then.

[imminentinertia]

How to get me to nope the fuck out of a fic part 172: Doing Profanity Wrong

Please don't. I'm begging here. I'll do it Ray style if it helps.

First, let's talk a bit about types of profanity. Just so you know, there will be a bit of vulgar language here (in case that first "fuck" in the title of the post didn't turn you off already).

I'm not going into the functions of profanity, the why we use it and how we use it to achieve our goals for using it, Steven Pinker's The Stuff of Thought is a good starting point for functions if you're interested. What I'm most interested in right now is the what.

The what is often a taboo of some sort, like mocking something sacred, referring to body parts that are considered filthy, fears of invoking dangerous situations like illness or natural disasters. The words used can be grouped into these categories*:

Sex

Religion

Bodily functions

Disease

(Derogatory terms may be considered a function, the why is to cause harm, but it tends to contain terms that don't always belong in the four other categories, and those four tend to bleed into this. I consider it a fifth category of types of words)

Languages and cultures don't use these categories in the same ways. For instance, there's very little left of disease swearing in English ("a pox on you" sounds just a tiny bit outdated, wouldn't you say) but it's alive and kicking in Danish (all word constructions with the word "kraft" refers to cancer, and there are a lot of those constructions). The British Isles and Denmark are pretty close geographically and not enormously different culturally, but the swearing takes different routes.

English uses a hell of a lot of religious profanity. East and South East Asian languages, not so much. There are examples, like mara (まら), a quite rude Japanese word for dick that has its root in the demon Mara (I don't know the precise etymology, but it's possible it has to do with temptation), but it's not anywhere near as prevalent as in Christianity-heavy cultures.

Which means that "for Buddha's sake" does not, I repeat NOT, work as local colour swearing. At. All.

It really is not a problem if you write an English profanity in an English sentence, in your English fic set in a culture that isn't in the Anglosphere. Don't worry about it - the point is that the story needs to flow well, and trying to fit in unfamiliar swearing is likely to end up stiff and awkward.

What you might want to think about is the categories. It's not that E/SE Asians never say "oh my God" or "fuck" in English, we who have other mother tongues often like a bit of English profanity mixed in with our native language, but the patterns for when to swear in English may be different.

So if you pay a bit of attention to how the shows are translated and what swearing choices are made (disregard the bowdlerised translations on fudging IQIYI entirely) and what category the characters seem to use the most, it becomes easier to make the story flow well without anglofying it too much (brimming with "oh my God") or stumbling in asiafying your own language ("oh my Buddha").

Sex and bodily functions tend to be safe bets because there are a number of taboos regarding both in so many cultures they're probably near-universal and only differs in exactly how they're used, but trying to make that super authentic for the source language and culture doesn't necessarily fit well into the language you're writing.

In other words, "shit" and "fuck" and such are likely to work fine for anything.

Also, there are a number of ways to be rude as fuck without uttering a single vulgar word. You can be rude while speaking and acting very politely, even. That's not something that's easy to show in a fic, it's easier to tell it ("he's speaking very politely yet it's the rudest thing she's ever heard"). Not to mention that it's easy to get it wrong when it's a culture you don't know extremely well, so a little vague telling is likely to make your story smoother than a detailed description of a rudeness situation.

The point is that one of the characters is rude to another, and that can be communicated well to the readers in several ways.

*Sources what sources. Actually there are lots of sources, but they tend to leave out disease. This is how I categorise and I'm sure there are researchers who agree with me, somewhere.

[swimmingismywholelife]

Wherever You Are

Summary: You realize that you don't want to live without Kepa anymore.

Warning: Angsty beginning but fluffy ending bc all I seem to wanna write is angst these days lmao

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: Inspired by "Wherever You Are" by 5 Seconds of Summer. Also if anyone has requests feel free to send them my way! Right now I'm writing for Kepa Arrizabalaga and Christian Pulisic, but I may be adding Kai Havertz to the list soon! Also also shout out to the Puli girls for always being so supportive and constantly inspiring me to write every day 💙

"Every night I almost call you

Just to say it always will be you

Wherever you are."

Kepa laid awake on his back, staring at the ceiling. He should've been asleep to get some well needed rest for his game the next day, but he couldn't. His mind wandered aimlessly, just like it did every night. No matter what he did, all he could think about was that night, the scene playing on constant repeat whenever he close his eyes.

Your forehead was on Kepa's, suitcase in hand. You knew once you walked through airport security, you wouldn't be able to turn back no matter how much you wanted to.

"Tell me to stay. Just say the word and I'll stay," you choked as tears ran down your face.

He held your face in his hands, keeping you as close to him as he possibly could.

"You know I can't, mi vida," he said, trying to remain strong for you. "This is a once in a lifetime opportunity that I can't ask you to pass up just to stay here with me."

You sobbed harder. He was right. Your dream company in Spain had accepted your application and you were set to start the week after. You'd known from a young age that this was all you ever wanted. Everything you'd done up until this point in your life was geared towards this job, and you finally had it after years of hard work and determination.

Kepa threw a wrench in those plans. You never anticipated falling in love along the way. The years you spent with him were some of the best moments of your life and you never wanted it to end. You didn't know what the future would hold for you, but the only certain thing was that you wanted him in it.

You had to make a decision once your received the email. Kepa couldn't just up and leave with you no matter how much he wanted to. His place was in London playing with the team he so dearly loved. But Kepa knew that this was your lifelong dream and wouldn't let you give up on it just for him. You both wanted to go long distance, but with your work schedules it wouldn't have been realistic to sustain a relationship anymore. You would be staying indefinitely in Spain and he would be indefinitely in England. Keeping a relationship would prevent the two of you from growing, and he never wanted to hold you back from the happiness he knew you deserved.

It absolutely broke your heart to know you couldn't be with him. You wanted him as much as you wanted this job, but you couldn't have both. Your head was telling you to suck it up and get on the plane for a job you'd longed for since you were a child. But your heart begged you to stay with Kepa. And you would've. He just needed to say the words and you would've given up everything for him.

Kepa couldn’t ask you to do that. And you knew he couldn't.

He wiped the tears from under your eyes trying to memorize your face with the little time he had left with you.

"I promise one day I'll find you again. I swear it. I promise I won't stop until I find you," he stated firmly.

"How can you know that? How do we know things won't change between us?" you cried, desperate to hold onto him while you still could.

"Because you're worth fighting for, and you will always be worth fighting for."

Kepa softly kissed you, pouring all the love he had for you into it.

"Do you hear me? I'll fight heaven and earth, all the gods in the sky, every higher power that could possibly exist if it means I get to be with you. I won't ever give up on you, on us."

The two of you stood in the terminal in your own world, holding on for as long as possible. You could feel time ticking away and you prayed it would stop just so the inevitable wouldn't have to come.

The announcer's voice over the speaker brought you back to your harsh reality. You were going on a plane to fulfill your dreams, leaving the love of your life behind to fulfill his. Time was finally up and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

"I love you Y/N," he said softly.

"I love you Kepa," you cried, "so much."

He kissed your forehead tenderly before kissing your lips, savoring what very well might have been your final time.

Reluctantly, the two of you stepped away from your hold. He handed you your bags, letting his fingers linger on yours ever so slightly. You could see the tears in his own eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Your heart broke even more knowing he wanted to be strong because you couldn't be.

"Bye Kepa," you said so softly it might as well have been a whisper.

He nodded his head, but you knew it meant two things: he was giving you the courage you needed to walk away and he was telling you that things were going to be okay.

And with a deep breath, you headed towards the security gates. You turned around to look at him one final time, tears still falling from your eyes. He gave you a small smile, both of your hearts breaking in that moment. With your heart feeling heavy, you broke his gaze and headed towards your destination.

Kepa stayed in the airport until he saw your plane taking off in the distance. He stared out the window longingly, finally releasing the emotions he was trying so desperately to suppress.

"Bye Y/N."

Kepa relived that moment every night since you left almost two years ago. While you hadn't blocked or unfollowed each other on social media, you hadn't spoken since. It would've been too painful knowing you were so close yet so far out of his reach. Kepa would've given up on his own dreams to be with you. But you wouldn't want that for him and he knew that, just as he didn't want you to do the same. He wanted to be selfish, but more than anything he wanted to see you happy. And if you had to be out of his life to be happy and finally achieve everything you'd ever wanted, he would make that decision every time.

Kepa instead focused on his own career, putting his best onto the field. And it paid off, returning to his incredible form for both his club and country. Kepa had finally proved himself to be one of the best goalkeepers in Europe and gained the respect of both fans and critics alike. He'd won a few pieces of silverware, and he was only just getting started. He had regained his confidence on the pitch and it showed. He was so proud of how far he'd come despite all of his setbacks and his dreams were right within his grasp. Everything in his life was falling right into place. It was almost perfect.

Yet the one thing he wanted the most in this world, he couldn't have. There weren't any football trophies or medals in the world that could compare to the feeling of having you in his arms again. Every picture he'd taken with his awards only served as a reminder of what he had lost, who he had lost in the process. While it wasn't necessarily a decision he regretted, it didn't make the thought hurt any less.

Kepa never really tried to move on. He couldn't forget about you, nor did he want to. While his teammates attempted to convince him to go on other dates, he knew that no one could even come close you. You weren't together anymore, but Kepa's heart was still entirely yours whether you knew it or not. He didn't know what the future held for the two of you, and that was the worst part. Not knowing if he was waiting for something that would never come or if the right time was coming and he just didn't realize it yet. But he knew he desperately wanted you to come home to him.

Spain had been an absolutely incredible experience for you. From the moment you landed, you fell head over heels for the country. You learned so much about yourself and gained memories that you knew would last a lifetime. Your dream job turned out to be everything you wished for and more. You wanted to spend forever there and you easily could have. It seemed your future was almost set in stone displayed right in front of you.

But life in Spain was almost perfect. It almost felt right. It was almost your forever home. That word and that feeling kept surfacing. Almost, almost, almost. This was everything you dreamed about for as long as you could remember. So why did you constantly feel like something was missing?

You stared at the pouring rain through the window as your taxi dropped you off in front of a familiar house. You didn't know if this was a good decision, but for once you decided to listen to your instincts and follow your heart. You grabbed your bags, thanked the driver, and walked up to the house.

As you walked closer and closer to the door, your hands began to shake, your heartbeat increasing with every step. There was no turning back at this point, and there was no telling what was going to come of this encounter. But you weren't going to back down. You weren't letting this go without a fight.

You took a deep breath before knocking on the door. You heard soft murmurs and the sound of footsteps before the door opened.

To say Kepa was stunned to see you drenched outside his home was an understatement. The moment he saw your face, his heart stopped. His brain stopped functioning properly and he struggled to catch his breath. You two stared at each other, not a word being exchanged as your minds raced.

"I'm sorry I just showed up unexpected like this but I needed to tell you this and it couldn't wait any longer," you said to him after a minute of silence.

Kepa couldn't find his words, so he just nodded his head to let you continue.

"You were right. The job was incredible. Spain was incredible. I loved every moment of it and I had absolutely everything I wanted. My dream job, amazing friends. It was what I dreamed about and more. Everything was perfect."

You took a deep breath, your voice beginning to waver as you spoke on.

"But every day I could feel something was wrong. No matter what I did or where I went, it always felt like something was missing. I thought maybe it was homesickness, maybe it was restlessness, anxiety from a new job and a new experience. But the longer I stayed, the worse the feeling got. I kept trying to ignore it and move past it, but nothing worked because I knew why I felt that way."

You couldn't hold the tears in anymore, letting them mix with the rain that was currently running down your face. You lifted your head and looked right into Kepa's eyes for the first time since you left that day.

"I didn't have you. I had everything I could've dreamed about, and it all paled in comparison because all I could think about was how much I wanted you, how much I wanted to be with you, how much I missed you."

You let out a sob, trying your best to stay strong.

"And God Kepa, I miss you so fucking much. I know we agreed that I couldn't just stay behind, but I've thought about that moment every day for two years and how much I fucking regret leaving you that day. I fought with myself, trying not to call you every night just to hear your voice. I avoided watching matches so I wouldn't see if you'd moved on or not. I tried to convince myself that I was ready to let you go."

You were shaking, but it wasn't because of the rain. Kepa just let you go on.

"But I lied. I lied to myself because I knew I would never stop loving you. And I couldn’t just let you go without fighting for us. I've realized that I can't live without you anymore. Spain was perfect, but I don't want perfect. I just want you."

You hesitantly stepped closer to him.

"I know it's been a long time and things have changed, but I can't give up without fighting for this. So tell me to go and you'll never see me again. But if you tell me to stay, I promise I'm never leaving ever again."

Kepa didn't even hesitate. In one swift motion, he gently cupped your cheeks with his hands and for the first time in two years, he kissed you. It wasn't a small peck, but a kiss that conveyed every emotion he'd ever felt in the time you were gone. There would never be enough words in the world to properly describe how much he needed you in his life and this was the only thing he could do. You kissed him back with the same energy, tears streaming down both of your faces.

Kepa pulled back from you to look deep in your eyes before kissing you again, much gentler this time. He wanted to savor every bit of this moment, one that'd he'd dreamt about every night since you left. He didn't want perfect either. He didn't need it when he had you because you were more than enough for him, and you always would be.

He pulled away again, this time choosing to rest his forehead on yours.

"I made you a promise that day," Kepa whispered, "a promise that I would never give up on you. I said I would fight even God above if it meant being with you. And I will never ever go back on my word. I would wait the rest of my life just to be with you at the end of it all."

Kepa pulled you as close as you physically could, planning on doing so for the rest of your lives.

"So stay with me now. You don't have to be away anymore. You're home now."

"I love you Kepa. And I never stopped loving you," you whispered.

"I love you, Y/N. I never stopped loving you and I never will. Because it doesn't matter how far you are from me or what universe we're a part of or how much time has passed. It's you. And it will always be you wherever you are. And nothing will ever change that."

The two of you stood in the doorway, your hands were covering his and foreheads pressed together as you both tried to memorize the other. You held each other tightly, just as you did in the airport all those years ago. Only this time, you weren't begging time to stop so you can be together just for a little longer because you would have each other forever. And as Kepa kissed you, you knew you would never have to say goodbye ever again.

Taglist: @neverinadream​ @pulisicsgirl​ @masonspulisic​ @bracedes​ @lizzypotter14​ @notsoattractivearenti​ @thoseboysinblue​ @pianoisland​ @lovelynikol16​ @chelseagirl98​

[dp-marvel94]

Fanwork creators self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics/art/podfics/etc. that you've made, then pass on to others. Let’s spread the self-love 🌼

(No pressure if you don't want to though!)

Hope you have a good day! ✨

This is too sweet! 🥺🥰🤗

In no particular order:

Face to Face should be a surprise to no one. I've been writing it for three and a half years. It's almost 280K long. I'm so proud of myself for sticking with it this long. A lot has changed in my life since I started this. Writing the story actually was very important to understanding and accepting myself as an autistic person. I'm in a much better place emotionally now. And I literally just have the epilogue left to write. 😭 I'm going to finish it after Invisobang, I swear!

Speaking of Invisobang!

This is the 76K monstrosity I wrote in three months for the first Invisobang. There was a lot of tears in writing it. I'm pretty sure I gave myself headaches just about every day with the stress I was putting myself under. Honestly, I never want to do that again. 😅😓💀 But there were a lot of emotions in there I think I needed to get out of me. It helped me deal with some things; there were a lot of emotions I needed to get out of me so I'm happy I wrote in, even if it hurt.

So apparently, I'm going to be a debby-downer for all these. :( This was the first multi-chapter fic I ever wrote, my first real dip into writing fanfiction (after a one shot I wrote near by birthday in 2018 to cheer myself up). I wrote it in the month or so after graduating from graduate school. I wrote with a fever and excitement I hadn't felt in a long time and my sister beta-read it with me, just as excited as I was.

*Religious discussion to follow*

Honestly this story saved my life. For the past year or so, especially the last semester of grad school, I was in the deepest depression and anxiety I've ever experienced. I kept running into road blocks in my research. Nothing was going the way I wanted. I never got to see my family; with my sister being my best friend (and still is) that was a big deal. I did many things I am deeply ashamed of and I felt so alone. And I was so angry at God for letting me get that deep. I felt like he'd abandoned me. I was convinced if He didn't even care about me at all. Which was absolutly earth-shattering for me; I'd never had my faith shaken like that. In all honestly, I came really close to leaving the church. I'd already checked out mentally. I stopped listening to Christian Music (yes even Disciple) because I couldn't enjoy it anymore; all those promises in the songs felt like getting stabbed when I knew that God had forgot about me.

The point, the depression and guilt and running from God (because I was running from Him; He never abandoned me) turned into a vicious cycle, driving my deeper and deeper, farther and farther away. Things only started getting better once I graduated. And something finally pushed me to start writing. And writing Double Discovery was the first step in climbing out of that depression and coming back to church. Or rather.... it was what Jesus used, completely oblivious to me, to start to pull me out of the pit and bring me back to Him. Looking back now, I have no doubt. God lead me to the DP community. He gave me the special interest I have, the passion, my talent for writing, the ideas. I remember praying (ie begging), before things got really bad and I can't even stomach the thought of talking to God, for Him to help me. It didn't come when I want it to or how I would have imagined or even wanted. But He did help me. He never abandoned me.

*End Religious Discussion*

Okay, these last two will just be fun, I swear!

I wrote this for my first Phic Phight. It's the first story of mine someone made fanart for. Check out this piece by @paenling

Another Phic Phight offering, this one from 2021. I had to include one of my numerous clone sibling stories. XD

[princewished]

🍓🥺

send me a 🍓and I'll compliment you!

ALLISON ALLISON ALLISON ALLISON ALLISON ALLISON ALL

when I say that some of the BEST rp fun I've ever had in my eight years of roleplaying have been with you, I mean it from the bottom of my heart. our threads had me staying up WAY past my bedtime, giggling madly at 2am as I tried to stay quiet, penning my responses by moonlight like I was some ninth century scholar or else stealing snatches at work to jot down thoughts for replies on my phone. i've just had the best time of my life roleplaying with you, to be completely honest.

I remember being so shy when I followed your alfred. I was just a baby uhtred blog back then and definitely admired you from afar, because your characterization, your prose, your everything was just so good, and here I was, bumbling onto the scene clumsy as could be, and I remember thinking to myself if this blog follows me back it will be an ACTUAL miracle, and I might just have to convert back to the christian god.

(spoiler alert, you did follow me back, but i admit I did not convert back to the christian god. oopsies.)

anyway, I didn't want to seem over-eager or like I was pressuring you for replies, but from the get-go things were just so FUN! and then one day you told me that this was some of the best fun you'd had on alfred in ages, and I swear I could have shot through the roof by how happy that made me DSAHFJKASDF just! knowing that I was also making you happy and that you were having as much fun as I was!

and then, well, I consider us a bit like two peas in a pod now to be honest with you - alfredperdiems and dailydoseofragnars tend to do that to a person, I reckon - but really, you've just been such an amazing influence on me. I think you really taught me how to enjoy myself when I was rp'ing again.

I don't know if I ever told you, but I was going through a really rough point in my life when I started my Uhtred blog and talking to you just made me smile so much and brought me so much joy that I really can't thank you enough for just! being you! because you did that.

I look back on some of the threads we wrote pretty often - not only just to remember what a great time it was, but because I grew an INCREDIBLE amount as a writer in an ASTONISHINGLY short time, which I partially credit to you as well. my quality of writing rose to meet yours, and I look back and admire the threads I created and go back to REFERENCE the shit I wrote with you just to see if I can recreate some of my favorite turns-of-phrase.

overall, you're just incredible, and our time rping together has been incredible, and this is so long and probably rather sentimental but there you have it jksdhjksf. also,

have a happy little alfred-per-diem

[eloves-writes]

a failed attempt to hate you

(tristan dugray)

a/n: i can only apologise if this writing is terrible, i wrote most of this in the middle of the night hopped up on medication for my disgusting cold. i hope it makes sense. anywho thanks for reading, enjoy, mwah <3

screw mr medina for making you help tristan study. you knew he knew from rory your inherent disdain for him, and it wasn’t your fault he was falling behind therefore not your responsibility to help him (as you had told mr medina last tuesday, with no effect). it was now sunday morning and you held little hope he would actually show up this time; he had somehow managed to cancel on your little study date 6 times already and it had only been 5 days since you were handed this apparently mammoth task. honestly, you didn’t expect him to show up at all, especially not anytime before noon- for which reasons you had made the decision put on your usual lazy sunday morning reading in bed get-up, which included (but was not limited to) an oversized rock concert shirt rory’s friend lane had given you in an attempt to clear her closet of non-christian attire, nothing but underwear underneath since you wouldn’t plan on leaving the comfort of your bedsheets for many hours, and a loose silk scrunchie you accidentally stole from rory keeping your hair out of your eyes. 

your book of choice today was ‘harry potter and the goblet of fire’ , the most recently released chapter of the boy wizard’s adventures at hogwarts. the clock beside you read 9:15 as you comfied yourself for a morning of magic and adventure, which naturally was ended a mere 8 minutes later at 9:23 when the doorbell rang downstairs. you assumed your mother would answer it, but when it rang a second time you remembered your parents had both gone out to watch your sibling’s soccer match and you’d have to get it yourself.

it didn’t even cross your mind to put pants on, or that it may not be the postman at the door, until you opened it to see your very favourite chilton student whose eyes had hastily wandered to your bare legs. typical high school boy, you thought to yourself before your brain actually grasped the situation and kick started into action.

‘tristan. hi.’ you said with a slight shock in your voice.

‘erm, hi. i hope i’m not interrupting anything,’ he smirked, glancing down at your thighs again.

you rolled your eyes so aggressively you hoped mr medina could hear it from wherever he was spending his day, irritating boy-less and free to do whatever he wanted with his time.

‘you’re not,’ you quipped. ‘i just didn’t expect you to actually show up this time. and early may i add, i’m sure we said 11.’

‘we did, but i’ve got plans later so i thought i’d come by earlier and get this over with.’

‘how did you know i didn’t have plans? i might have been busy before 11.’

he pulled a face of amusement and you could swear you saw a hint of sarcasm shining through his eyes too. ‘right. are you done talking now or can i come in?’

‘you can come in, i guess,’ you sighed, closing the door behind him and showing him to the kitchen table. ‘wait here, i’ll go and get my books.’

‘grab some pants whilst you’re at it.’

‘stop talking,’ you called as you walked upstairs.

you came back downstairs a few minutes later fully-clothed and carrying your english notes to see that tristan had wandered from the chair you specifically remembered telling him to sit in, and was instead tracing a finger along the bookcase that stretched across the far wall of your living room. for a moment you just watched him nosey into your life; the framed certificates, the family photos, the 5 tapes of ‘beauty and the beast’ stacked atop of each other because it was your favourite film when you were 9 and practically every living relative had bought you a copy. beside those was a picture of you dressed as princess belle at disneyworld with chocolate ice cream smeared from cheek to cheek, a huge smile plastered between. tristan picked it up and turned to face you.

‘thoroughly adorable. seriously, you should go for this look more often.’

‘ha ha,’ you grimaced, snatching it off him and placing it back on the shelf. ‘are we studying or reminiscing on my past fashion choices?’ 

‘oo, someone’s in a good mood this morning huh,’ he teased. you pulled another face, once again silently cursing mr medina for completely ruining not just your day, but in fact your whole week. by god this boy got more irritating the more time you spent with him- it had only been 10 minutes, but it was 10 minutes longer than you ever previously had or ever wanted to.

 ‘can i get a drink before we start?’ he asked, redirecting the conversation and walking past you back into the kitchen. he began opening various cupboards, searching for a glass. ‘where’s the-’

‘why yes, tristan. you can have a drink,’ you snarked, opening the cupboard behind him with a dramatic flourish. he raised his eyebrows at you and reached forward to grab a glass, leaning over you as he did so. you caught a whiff of his cologne and almost forgot to dislike him for a moment.

‘there’s, um, soda in the ... fridge,’ you told him, voice unwillingly faltering as he looked down to meet your eyes. he had pretty eyes. pretty, blue, sparkling, stupid, annoying, asshole eyes. 

you found the thick tension sickening. you refused to be another girl at school who simply swooned over him when he walked past your locker. you didn't like him. you were here to teach him english. because he was dumb. and actually, his eyes weren’t that nice.

he grabbed a soda out of the fridge and you both sat down at the table and began reading through your analysis of ‘to kill a mockingbird’, adamantly pretending not to see him staring at you the whole time. 

why? he had had every popular and pretty girl in the whole of chilton, how was he ever so starved of female attention that he would look at you so admirably when you liked to make it clear you despised him? in fact, you enjoyed making a special effort to flip him off, or pull a face at him when he walked by, or kick his chair extra hard in spanish, or... oh shit. you had seen it from an outside point of view now, and it was glaringly obvious; maybe you did like him, just a little bit. shit. rory owed lorelai 10$ and a cheeseburger from luke’s, though you didn’t want to have to admit she was right when she’d said you were like a kindergarten boy pulling a girl’s ponytails because he thought she was pretty.

‘hey tristan,’ you started, breaking the comfortable silence between his questions and suddenly nervous to talk to him. stupid, it was still the exact same boy you’d been complaining about all week, nothing new. 

he looked up from your notes. ‘what’s up princess?’ 

that was definitely new.

‘don’t call me princess’ -he smirked irritatingly- ‘do you need to stay much longer? i mean, is there anything else you want help with?’

‘trying to get rid of me?’

‘no! no. i just thought that you’d only stay and pretend to listen to me for like, half an hour then vanish. it’s 11:30 and you’ve been through my whole binder.’

‘it is? time flies.’

‘tristan.’

‘i do care about my grades, you know. and you’re a good teacher, i might have a chance at an A.’

‘why didn't you show up the last 6 times we planned then?’

he put down his pen- your pen, actually. it had pink sparkles on the lid. ‘got to keep up my street cred.’

‘ha ha. funny,’ you replied as blankly as possible, pulling back a smile you could feel in your stomach. you made eye contact again and, like every other time since you’d sat down and started studying, you held each other’s gaze for longer than necessary. funny how realising you like someone makes you suddenly act like it.

‘i should get going then right,’ he said, picking his jacket from the back of his chair.

you felt weird, almost as if you didn't want him to leave after praying earlier he wouldn't show up. alas, your parents would be home soon and you would be willing to bet money that tristan would have some interesting jokes about your being home alone that would not slide with your dad.

‘yeah. i hope you get that A,’ you said, accidentally smiling as you walked him to the door.

tristan turned to lean on the frame of the now-open door and put on a face of mock surprise. ‘my, my, y/n. was that a kind comment and a smile? you’re spoiling me.’

‘shut up, i hope you fail.’

he smiled back. ‘you really mean that?’

‘i guess not.’

there was yet another beat of heavy silence.

‘see you monday.’

‘see you monday.’

you closed the front door as he walked down the drive, but noticed tristan’s car keys still sat on the kitchen table. a porsche, of course. you picked them up and reopened the door to his fist poised to knock. the two of you laughed awkwardly for a second.

‘i forgot my-’

‘you forgot your-’

another awkward laugh. jesus christ this was uncomfortable. you passed him the keys, and with absolutely no warning at all, your lips were suddenly met with his. they were soft and confident, and his free hand held your face as you tried to process the new situation. you quickly melted into the kiss, letting him take control until he pulled away and smiled that sparkly smile you didn't hate as much as you tried to.

‘didn't see that one coming,’ you said breathily, brushing some loose hairs off of your face.

‘i knew you didn’t hate me.’

‘ever the arrogant twat.’

‘hey, does this mean you’ll stop kicking my chair in spanish?’

‘absolutely not. in fact, i think i’ll kick it harder.’

‘as long as you let me do that again.’

tags: @leossmoonn for inspiring me to start writing again, @account123445 & @lmaoidekanymore6 for asking me to post tristan fics! (couldn’t figure out how to make the tags work but if you read this, you know ✨)

[storiesforallfandoms]

better than the movie ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1757

request?: yes!

@m-is-for-monkeys “hey! could u write a super bdsm smut about colson?? Thanks♡”

description: colson wants to try something in the bedroom, but has to assure his girlfriend it won’t be anything like a popular movie series

pairing: machne gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist

(i’m not good with writing bdsm so it’s not gonna be super bdsm-y)

If there was one thing you could say about Colson in the bedroom, it was that he liked to experiment.

At first, you had been intimidated by Colson - sexually that is. He was a big, hot shot rapper and actor. He had groupies throwing themselves at him at every opportunity. You had only ever been with one person intimately. You were sure Colson had done basically everything in the book by the time the two of you had gotten together, which intimidated you a little.

The first time you were intimate together, Colson revealed that he had never done anything more than just some vanilla sex. He had fucked in nearly every position, but nothing more than the usual.

Due to this, you decided to make a list of things you wanted to try. Whenever you were both in the mood, you’d cross something new off the list.

You had gone through the list pretty fast, and now you were at the one Colson was most excited for: BDSM.

You had agreed to put it on the list as a joke, not thinking Colson would really want to do it. As the list neared that particular item, you were sure Colson would also scratch it off and say he wasn’t interested in doing it. So, when Colson started coming home with different sets of bondage toys, you were shocked, and a little nervous.

“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t actually want to do it?” he asked the night that you had both finally reached BDSM on the list. “I wouldn’t have added it if I knew you didn’t actually like the idea of it.”

He wasn’t mad, more just concerned. You were grateful that he wasn’t going to push you to do it.

“I thought it was a joke,” you said with a shrug. “I didn’t know you were actually into it. I figured...”

You trailed off. Colson’s head tilted, like a confused dog. “You figured...?”

You sighed. “I figured you wouldn’t be into it because you despise the Fifty Shades series so much. I mean, when we watched the first movie together you were so disgusted. You said that they made BDSM look wrong and abusive. I kind of thought...the movies had turned you off of it. I know they did for me.”

Realization crossed Colson’s face then, as if everything suddenly made sense. “You have a point, those movies did disgust me. I’ll never understand why we decided to watch all three.” You giggled at his joke. “But they made me mad because they made something I wanted to do look like it was just a tactic to keep someone in a toxic relationship. I didn’t want to try and bring it up after we watched those movies because I was afraid you would connect BDSM with Fifty Shades, and that was the last thing I wanted.”

You felt guilty then. Even though you hadn’t know that was Colson’s mindset at the time, you had fallen into exactly what he was worried about, which had led to this whole misunderstanding.

He wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on yours. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I’m all for skipping it and going to the next thing on the list. I’m not going to push you to do something you don’t want to do.”

You thought for a moment. BDSM was not something you had ever been interested in, and of course, you now associated it with the god awful Twilight fanfic movies, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t even the slightest bit interested once. Even while watching the first Fifty Shades movie, you couldn’t help but cross your legs a little tighter the first time Christian had tied up Ana, or when he whipped her (although you had felt guilty for that one by the end of the movie).

And you knew Colson wasn’t Christian Grey. He wouldn’t make you do something you didn’t want to do, and he’d never hurt you. He’d be too upset with himself if he did. You knew he’d be gentle enough with you, and if you wanted him to stop he would stop.

“Okay,” you said, before realizing that you hadn’t exactly answered his question. “I mean...yeah, I’d like to try it.”

“Are you sure? One last chance to back out,” Colson said, although you could see a little glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

You smiled and leaned up to kiss him. “I’m sure, babe. I trust you.”

He smiled and kissed you deeply. You giggled as he literally swept you off your feet and began carrying you to the bed.

“Decide on a safe word now so I know when you use it,” he told you as he laid you down on the bed. He turned to start collecting the things he had bought specifically for this moment.

You blurted the first thing that came to your mind for a safe word: “Pineapple.”

You felt your face burn with slight embarrassment as Colson turned to look at you, a small smile on his face. “Pineapple works for me.”

He held up a blindfold, silently asking you one more time if you were okay with what was about to happen. You nodded and sat up, pulling your hair back so it wouldn’t get tangled in the blindfold. Your vision went black as Colson wrapped the soft fabric around your eyes. He tied it tight around your head, but not too tight that it would hurt you.

With your vision gone, you suddenly felt more nervous. You felt completely powerless and, although you were now more nervous than before, you were also turned on by this feeling. It felt like Colson had complete control, and that made you tingle in a lower region.

His hands softly guided you back onto the bed before taking one of your hands in his. You felt a soft material wrap around your wrist, followed by the sound of a click; the fuzzy handcuffs Colson had bought. At first, you had laughed when you saw them. They were pink and extremely fuzzy, but Colson soon explained his reasoning behind it - regular metal handcuffs were surely going to hurt you, and that was the last thing he wanted.

He trapped another of your wrists in another set of handcuffs, leaving you completely helpless. You felt his soft lips kiss your neck as his hands began unbuttoning his button up shirt that you were wearing. He kissed over your exposed chest, giving special attention to each of your breasts. You moaned as you felt his tongue lap over your nipple painfully slow.

He continued down your body, leaving soft kisses on your stomach before his fingers looped around your underwear. You bucked your hips up to allow him to slip them down your legs. You whimpered as you felt his lips kiss over your thighs, getting dangerously close to the place you really wanted him.

He placed one kiss on your already dripping core before pulling away, causing you to let out an involuntary whine.

Colson chuckled at your desperation. “Have patience, baby girl.”

You listened to him shuffle for a while. You were longing to feel him touch you again. He had gotten you all worked up, you were dreading if he decided to leave you there all teased with no relief.

You felt a familiar pressure push against your opening. You gasped as Colson pushed himself into you painfully slow, allowing you to feel every inch of him as he filled you up.

His lips were against your neck again as he began to thrust, immediately picking up speed. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close and pressing his body closer against yours. His hips grinded into yours as his hands travelled down your body and cupped your ass.

You realized that having the blindfold on made everything feel so much better. Having your vision stripped away heightened your other senses, especially your sense of pleasure as Colson’s hips met yours. Pulling at the restraints around your wrists, you wanted nothing more than to dig your nails into Colson’s back as you cried out in pleasure.

You were definitely grateful that he had bought the cushioned handcuffs now.

You felt the familiar pressure starting to grow in your stomach as Colson’s thrusts became faster. You could feel him twitching inside of you, signaling that he was getting close to his own climax.

“I-I’m so cl-close,” you managed to stutter out through the cloud of pleasure that was in your head.

“Hold it, baby,” Colson whispered in your ear. “I’m close, too.”

It was hard to hold yourself back when you were so powerless against Colson’s hard thrusts, but you tried your best. When you felt his thrusts becoming more sloppy, you couldn’t contain yourself anymore. Your back arched involuntarily as you finally let yourself go, Colson hitting his own climax just seconds after.

He had his head buried in your neck, his muffled moans sending vibrations through your whole body. The two of you were breathing heavily against one another. You went to move your hands to hold Colson, forgetting for a moment that they were still bound together.

“Oh yeah,” Colson said, as if just remembering the bindings himself.

He slipped out of you and undid the handcuffs. An ache that you hadn’t felt before pulsated on your wrists, but it didn’t feel like a bad pain. Just a pleasant reminder of what had just happened.

As he began to untie the blindfold, Colson asked, “So, how was that?”

“Really good,” you admitted. “But also a little disappointing.”

Colson’s face was confused as he pulled the blindfold from your eyes. “Disappointing?”

“I liked the bondage, but you didn’t do much of the domination or the whipping and stuff. I feel like I didn’t get the whole experience.”

A mischievous smile came across Colson’s face as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down to lay next to him on the bed. “I promise next time I won’t hold anything back.”

You smiled and pointed to the list on the bedside table. Understanding your silent question, Colson rolled over to pick up the list and a pen and passed them to you. You added an arrow between BDSM and what was next on the list and added a new thing to try: “BDSM, but this time no mercy”.

Colson laughed upon reading it and held you tightly.

[queerprayers]

pinned post/faq <3

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<3 Johanna

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Salvation, Damnation

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Heahmund&Reader (brother/sister relationship)

Summary: “Where the reader is Heahmund's sister (or some kind of close relative) and she ends up meeting Ivar, but while Heahmund's always seen her as quiet, shy and insecure, she finds Ivar attractive and starts hitting on him and openly flirting with him in front of any and everyone. Ivar notices that it bothers Heahmund, so he flirts with her back until they end up spending 1 on 1 time with each other (something cute and romantic) and he starts to genuinely like her.”

I am so sorry anon if I dissapointed you, this story got away from me.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Mentions of violence and death, nothing major. My awful attempt at masking my dislike for Heahmund. Horrible, horrible attempts at writing sexual tension. Subtle (and not so subtle) D/s dynamics. Implied sex. Implied bondage, and knife/blood kink. Nothing exactly explicit, but still.

A/N: I really need to put my foot down and write a meek reader character at some point, they always turn out being crazy or annoying little shits. Or both.

Also, alternate title to this: two switches try to out-dom one another for 3k words. Hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick​ @ietss​ 

Heahmund paces in front of you, head low and hand gripping tightly at his cross.

“You will be sent to Kent, I have friends there that can-…”

“No, I will not leave you.” You argue, to which your brother replies only with a sigh.

“I want you safe.”

“I will be safe with you, not surrounded by old men and priests somewhere in Engl-...”

“Can’t you see we are surrounded by enemies!?” Heahmund’s voice doesn’t rise, but it still makes you tremble, “We can’t afford to stay together.”

“Then why make that Viking take me from Lindsey? You put me in his grasp.”

“Lindsey won’t hold under English control for long,” He promises, voice almost a whisper though you can still hear the anger, the impotence, the fear bubbling beneath “It is too close to York. You’ve seen their army, they’ll…they’ll crush them all.”

“And yet you fight for them, for pagans.”

“I don’t have a choice,” His hands are warm on your arms, “But you do. I have to send you to Kent, I have to keep you alive.”

“Why would they kill me?”

“Punishment for a failure, maybe. Ivar knows he needs only to threaten your life to have me do his bidding.”

“And you think he’ll allow you to ship me away? The one thing that keeps you on a leash?” You shake your head, “Brother, this is madness.”

“I don’t care if he allows it,” Heahmund sentences, voice grave and certain. “Whatever punishment befalls on me, I shall endure.”

You shake your head again, and you want to fight back, argue, but you know that dead look in his eyes, you know that deadly stillness, that terrifying certainty.

And so you lower your eyes, and accept his words with a nod of your head.

He needn’t know you retrace each and every one of his steps, and undo his plans for sending you off to England. You will die before leaving your brother alone at the mercy of these heathens.

____

“Does your sister know how to play?” The Viking asks, moving a wooden piece on the board. Without missing a beat, he adds, “Or are nuns not allowed to learn chess?”

“She’s not a-…” Heahmund closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “She does.”

The Viking looks down at the board, and his expression twists into a mix of surprise and disapproval at your brother’s move.

“Hopefully better than you,” And it seems answering a question about you, acknowledging your presence, was a wrong move on your brother’s part. “Does she have a tongue?”

You keep your eyes on the pale ones of the youngest son of Ragnar.

“I do.” You reply slowly. The Viking only seems to grow more delighted with this little game of his.

“And you know who I am, don’t you, little dove?”

“There are more fun ways to make me say your name, you know.” You quip, and not even a thousand years of teachings of chastity and restraint could keep you from smiling when the Viking’s eyes widen, right before he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, looking…hungry.

The youngest son of Ragnar stands, using the table and then the crutch at his side to stand tall and walk towards you.

When your brother growls his name in warning, Ivar only laughs darkly, and continues approaching you until he towers over you, eyes dark and set on you.

“What would those ways be, little dove?” He reaches down, and hooks one finger on the rosary bracelet you wear, tugging on it and reminding you strikingly of bindings.

“Hands-on practice is much more…rewarding than lessons.”

“Hmm,” The Viking muses, eyes studying you with an intensity that should make you uncomfortable. He doesn’t release his hold on the rosary on your wrist, for a moment tugging on it harder and making it tighten on your skin like rope. He chuckles, “I like you. You are…interesting, for a Christian.”

“And you are…intriguing, for a Viking.”

Ivar the Boneless only huffs a laugh, but there’s still a spark of excitement in his gaze, of pride, of satisfaction.

He turns his head to the side, and addresses your brother, ordering him to leave.

Heahmund hesitates, of course he does, and his hand goes to the handle of his sword at his side. You hold your breath.

But after a moment, with the restrained anger of a dog brought to heel, the threat that he might take these Vikings and this kingdom down single-handedly if you are to come to harm written in his dark eyes; your brother takes his leave.

The Viking’s hand closes around your throat, and you only stare back at him with wide eyes as he corners you towards the wall. He is so close to you, with each breath you take you feel his armor against your own chest, you can discern every speck of blue in his eyes.

“What game are you playing?” He snarls, but you cannot find the words, your heart beating wildly in your chest and the blood in your veins singing with fear and something else. “Answer me!”

“I am not playing anything!”

“I don’t believe you,” He snarls without hesitation, lips curved into what looks like a beast threatening to attack. The hand on your neck moves up, cupping your jaw roughly and moving your head to the side. You feel his breath on your neck as he speaks again, quieter, “I don’t like being lied to.”

“I am not lying, you brute. Now get your hand off me.”

“Or what?”

Your eyes widen, but something in your blood sings at his defiance, something in his blue eyes as he dares you makes your heart quicken.

“What?”

“You heard me, little dove. What will you do, if I don’t do as you say?”

You are pushed against a wall in some Viking kingdom, with the most feared Viking alive holding you by the throat, and yet you smile at him.

You reach up with your hand, and, the same way he did earlier to you, you hook a finger on the metal arm-ring on his wrist, and tug, hard enough he feels the strain of the makeshift binding.

“Why don’t you do as I say?” You prompt sweetly, “I prefer rewarding to punishing, I have too soft a heart.”

Ivar’s lips part at your words, and naked want is written in his face. It is barely a moment, where the mask slips, the game grants you a victory, and you see him feeling the siren call of giving in.

Still, slowly his lips curve into a sinister smile, and he leans even closer.

“I don’t.” He promises by your ear, what you could swear is the scrap of teeth against the shell of your ear before he lets you go.

You stay there, back against the wall, trying to regain your breath, regain your control, as you watch him walk out of the room.

It is an easy, fun game to play, this push and pull you engage on with the Viking. Circling one another over and over, taunting one another, testing one another; waiting for the other to pounce or retreat.

You know on your end there’s more than pretense and empty words, and you dare think on his end it’s the same.

It is fun, and thrilling and liberating; and you soon find yourself enthralled by the Viking and his captivating voice, his depthless eyes that give so much away.

You know it is wrong, you know it is sinful and awful, you know no Christian would speak, wish, dream, of such things, much less with a heathen of all men.

But, at the end, you were never a very good Christian.

And so, much to your brother’s horror, you grow closer and closer to the Viking. In between the games you both play, in between the taunts and the defiance, grows what you dare call a comfortable intimacy, an understanding of one another.

It doesn’t hurt your cause that Heahmund cannot even dream of taking you right from under Ivar’s nose now, send you off to England so you can be safe, but alone.

____

A sharp tug on the rosary on your wrist draws your attention to Ivar, and you turn to him with questions written in your eyes.

“We will sail for Vestfold in two days,” He tells you, smiling slightly when you make a point of wrenching your wrist, your bracelet, from his grasp. “Will you be coming with us?”

“Are you asking me to?”

“If I were, what would you say?”

You offer only a smile, partly exasperated and partly enthralled.

Heahmund stands up from his place in the table in front of you, and with a grunt of your name stalks away, to a place of relative privacy. You notice Ivar’s eyes following your brother’s retreating back with what strikes you as suspicion, as disdain, and so you hurry to follow Heahmund.

He runs a hand through short dark hair, and shakes his head as if to try and dispel himself of his anger.

“What on God’s name are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything,” You reply innocently, before your eyes find those of the son of Ragnar across the room. A thrill runs through your spine when you find he was already looking at you. “He is rather handsome, isn’t he?”

“Are you mad!?” Heahmund says lowly, in that way of his of yelling at you with a whisper. His brows furrow, “My sweet sister wo-…”

“Your sweet sister refuses to be shipped off to England, Heahmund,” You finish for him, “I would have believed you knew better than to expect me to leave you behind.”

“You put yourself at the mercy of Ivar the Boneless! That monster has none!”

You hear the Viking call your name from across the room, and even if you didn’t have a point to prove, you know you’d answer the call.

“I bought us -you- time, if anything.” You tell your brother, before you go off to sit at Ivar’s side.

____

The Viking King he takes you to meet -Harald, you remind yourself- is a strange character. A man that makes a strange thrill of disgust and fear run down your spine.

You don’t miss the implication of Ivar’s display. While your brother is brought in chains and forced to kneel at Harald’s feet, you remain standing at the Viking’s side, Ivar’s hold on the rosary bracelet you wear for once not the promise of thrill, of lust, but a silent oath of protection.

You awaken in the dead of night to the soft sound of knuckles rasping against your door. You hold on tight to the dagger in your hand, even though you know if any of these men wanted you dead you would be so.

Ivar stands at the other side of it, and it steals the breath from your lungs, the words from your lips.

Still, you let him in, and watch with wide eyes as he takes a seat on a low settee near your bed.

“Doesn’t it scare you? To be all alone with a heathen?”

You shrug, and find your voice again,

“If I were to fear, it would be for being all alone with a murderer, with a warrior. Not a pagan.”

“And why is that?”

You study him in silence for a few moments, before offering, “I am not my brother, I don’t share his…conviction.”

“His faith.”

“His fervor,” You correct, before sighing, “Maybe it will damn me for eternity, but…I ought to fear you, to hate you, for the things you have done and the things you will do, not the Gods you follow.”

“And do you?” The Viking asks, and your eyes narrow at his question. After a breath, eyes searching yours, he presses, “Hate me.”

“You care about some nun’s scorn?”

“You definitely aren’t a nun,” He offers, the hint of an amused smile on his lips, “And you are…fascinating, I’d like to know if you despise me.”

“I don’t,” At his strange expression, you press, “You’re disappointed?”

Ivar shrugs, head moving side to side as his mouth curves downwards, indecisive.

“I don’t know. There is something to be said about a poor Christian nun at the hands of a Viking; fearing, fighting, resisting.”

His words, the images they conjure up in your head, make a thrill run down your spine, a rush of heat settle low on your stomach. You lick your lips, and because you cannot help yourself, you offer a counteroffer,

“There’s also something to be said about a Viking at the mercy of a wayward Christian. Makes one wonder what it takes to have him…cave, obey, beg.”

Ivar laughs, shaking his head, “I’d like to see you try, little dove.”

There’s no mistaking the darkening of his gaze, the quickened breaths, the hunger in his expression, though. He wants it as much as you do, he craves control as much as he craves surrendering it.

You cross your legs and try focusing on the matter at hand.

“But you didn’t come here to talk…hypotheticals, did you?”

Ivar sobers, and you could swear he grits his teeth as he toys with the crutch on his hand.

“Harald promised us support. We will march for Kattegat soon.”

“I don’t have my brother’s strategic mind, I’m afraid,” You offer when he stays quiet. “I fear I won’t be of much help.”

“Lagertha could be dead, in a matter of weeks. I could…I could finally kill her.” He confesses, eyes falling from yours, and there’s the clear tell of anger in his expression. Anger at what you are sure he considers weakness, anger at having you be a witness to it.

“That is what you want, is it not?”

“To you Christians…my people are monsters, are we not?”

“You honor your Gods with blood, you value death over life, you pillage and burn and conquer. Of course my countrymen think that, of course they fear you.”

“Do you think I’m a monster, little dove?” Ivar asks you, taking you aback. If you weren’t so used to him, if you weren’t so familiar with the tones of his voice, with the subtle tells in his expression; you’d think he’s daring you.

You wouldn’t have believed, months ago, when he barged into Lindsey with an army at his back trying to find Bishop Heahmund’s sister, that one day you’d be sitting on front of Ivar the Boneless and see his eyes shining with hesitation, with vulnerability, with fear.

The answer you can offer is a smile, and a shake of your head. The answer he demands is the bruising kiss he presses against your lips, is the breath he steals from your lungs.

____

For all the ruckus planning a battle implies, for all the chaos that comes before a siege, for all the months of war talks and battle plans; the battle for Kattegat sneaks up on you.

On your happiness. On your sin.

Ivar presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist, eyeing the marks of rope on your skin with careful eyes. You only watch him, sated and tranquil and at peace; letting him make inventory of the marks, of the evidence of your surrender.

“Tomorrow we will march,” He tells you quietly, rough fingers still circling your wrist delicately. “Kattegat could be mine in days.”

You hum an agreement, and stretch. Because you cannot help it, you burrow into him, your face hidden at the crook of his neck, and trace your own marks on his skin, the evidence of his surrender.

The faint cuts of a knife are still visible in his chest, and when you trace your fingers over them, Ivar shudders. You smile.

“Ivar the Boneless,” You whisper against his skin, before you give in and press a soft kiss over a darkening bite mark on his shoulder. “King of Kattegat.”

He huffs a breath that could have been an amused chuckle.

“When it is all done, I…I will send your brother to York.”

Your heart drops to your stomach, and your breath shudders past your lips.

“York?”

“To defend us from some Danes that threaten it with capture. He won’t fight Christians, you have my word.

But that isn’t what made you freeze under his touch, and he knows it. Ivar swallows, and returns his gaze to the ceiling.

His hand tightens on your wrist, before he takes a deep breath.

“I want you to stay with me,” He confesses, not looking at you. “I want you at my side, I…I want to make you Queen of Kattegat.”

Your eyes widen, and you lean back, even though he doesn’t release your wrist.

“Ivar…”

“I’ll release Heahmund from his vow, he will be free, and safe. You…if you want, we can marry before your God after we marry before mine,” He promises, rushed and anxious. You realize he’s giving you reasons to say yes, as if you didn’t have enough of those written in his gaze, in his burning touch, in the marks that litter both your bodies. “I-…

You lean in, and kiss him. It has always been surprisingly useful in getting him to stop thinking, to stop talking; and you realize when he presses back against your lips with a soft sound, when his hand tangles in your hair and he brings you closer, that it continues to be so.

When you part, his eyes open slowly, and when they meet yours you see in them that emotion neither of you has been brave enough to admit yet.

“Marry me.” He whispers.

You press your brow to his with a breathed laugh, happy and mad and warm.

“Yes,” You reply, voice hushed, eyes shining. You steal a kiss from his lips, and another one when he continues to stare up at you, surprise and awe and hope written in his pale eyes. “I love you, Ivar.”

His eyes search yours, looking for the lie, for the mirage. When he finds none, Ivar smiles, wide and hopeful and happy.

“I love you, little dove.”

That night, he promises his love between fervent kisses, brands it against your skin in the mark of his fingers on your hips. That night, he demands your love with whispers of your name, steals it from your lungs in the air he robs you of with skillful fingers and tongue.

____

Soooooo, whaddya think?

Ik I need to write smut at some point, but I’m too much of a coward atm. At some point I will, and mark my words, I will return to this one shot.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it!! Love you!

[kenyizsuartblog]

Hey! I dropped by to ask if there is any book/s which blew apart your perception on life and writing alike, books that opened new perspectives and challenged old ones? Books that inspired you.

Hi! Thank you for the question! :D

I'll be honest I'm a very "commercial" kind of reader - I like adventure stories, group dynamics, saving the world a thousand times over, fantasy shenanigans left, right and center. The stories usually do not blow my mind up because of that.

But.

I do have have a few inspiring ones, yes. In no particular order, under the cut, that is. Cuz I can’t keep things like this brief, I’m sorry. XDD

Az ember tragédiája ("Tragedy of Man" by Imre Madách) Setting #1, to be precise. Tragedy of Man tells the story of God creating the world, kicking Lucifer out of Heaven, then Adam and Eve meet him, eat the apple, get kicked out, yaddayadda. THEN Adam asks Lucifer what will happen to his offsprings now that they are out of Paradise. Lucifer takes him on a dream travel across various ages of history, and into a dystopian future as well. Lucifer’s goal is to show Adam how rotten humanity will become and he is better off killing himself to stop it from happening. Adam almost does so by the end when he wakes up in his own time, however, Eve announces that she is pregnant, which would make his suicide pointless. The final lesson of the story is that even if we know one possible outcome, we should always fight and keep hoping to change things. Setting #1 was the most impactful to me, even though the ending message is important as well. At the time I’ve read Setting #1, I was very... on the fence about Christianity. It didn’t feel right to me, but I couldn’t articulate why I didn’t want to go to church. And then I read the start of the book. After creating the world, God takes a break while all the angels praise him like there is no tomorrow... except for Lucifer. He points out that God demands respect and adoration from everyone, even though he, Lucifer, could see the flaws in the creation already. In fact, Lucifer is not some “big evil”, he is the “Spirit of Denial” to be precise. God kicks him out from Heaven for not praising him, but in the meantime they make a deal - God gives him two trees in Paradise (The Tree of Knowledge and the Tree of Immortality), and Lucifer swears he can use those two trees to ruin God’s creation. And he almost succeeds, although his plan is foiled in the end. Now I get that Lucifer is not the good guy in this, in the slightest. He’s an asshole, by all accounts. But the stuff he says to God, about how arrogant and mighty he is - that resonated with me. This constant begging for forgiveness and praising a (more than likely made up) god who appparently created a world so damn flawed, that innocent children can die of the most horrible diseases out there, and he won’t help anyone... yeah, screw him. No, I did not become a satanist. I am more of an ateist, or a deist. The latter being - I can imagine there had been some kind of higher being/sentience that set in place the rules of physics and chemistry that later formed the universe itself, but that sentience has long since buggered off and doesn’t care about what is going on in that vast place. -

Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan (before he got unbearably super woke) Percy Jackson is the typical YA adventure-novel series that mixes Greek mythology surprisingly well into the modern world. The guy’s knowledge of the source material is incredibly detailed and well-researched, he goes far deeper than the typical “kid’s story” would. That alone earns him respect. But the story has an incredible style about it, the smoothest and most captivating I have ever read in anything. It is genuinely difficult to put the books down, even after multiple readings. Rick Riordan is a big inspiration for me... I mean, before he got superwoke. Thankfully his earlier works, Percy Jackson, The Kane Chronicles and Heroes of Olympus are all safe from that. Trials of Apollo is on the very edge of this, I could still enjoy it, thankfully. Magnus Chase? From what I’ve heard with my half ear, I’ll pass, thanks. -

The Inheritance Cycle (”Eragon series”) by Christopher Paolini I actually never read the Lord of the Rings. I am sure it is a wonderful work. Maybe one day I will tackle it. My first introduction to a more realistically built fantasy world with an actual medieval setting was with Eragon. Random farmer kid finds a dragon egg and accidentally becomes a dragon rider, realizes he is not such a random farmer kid after all, and ends up saving the kingdoms from a mad king and his big-ass black dragon. The basic settings is very simple, but the twists and turns and obstacles Paolini puts into the book makes it far more complicated than it first appears. And makes the world a more living, breathing place with a complicated long history that has some of its details lost to time. And on the side, many aspects of the medieval life itself is shown very well, as well as warfare, and how do dragons screw up the rules. The world also features a hard magic system as well, with well defined rules and interesting ways to use. First time I’ve ever read one such system and since that day, I also want to create more well-defined magic systems for my stories as well. It is far more work than the so called “soft magic system” (what Diablo has, for example), but coming up with solutions to a problem using a well-defined magic is far more satisfying for both author and reader on the long run, in my opinion. Not gonna lie, soft magic systems are also hella fun, tho... -

Storm of Light (Diablo 3) by Nate Kenyon Now I will be the first to admit that the Diablo books are mostly... okay. Nothing great, nothing terrible, they serve their purpose. Storm of Light has a special place in my heart, tho. For one, it is the piece of media that, to this date, shows the most details about angelic life, and you all know me - I’m a huge Diablo angel fan. Like... goddamn astronomical. Any lore crumbs I can squeeze out of the Diablo media about them is a gold nugget on its own. Second, in the book Malthael is just... holy fucking shit. If you have seen evil. Like, real, ACTUAL evil. Not that bitch-ass Diablo and his army of shitbags, all they can do is destroy this, corrupt that, posses some people and summon lesser shitbags in their wake. Nah, bro, that’s amateur hour. That shit is so obvious, so straightforward it is not impressive in the least bit. Diablo is goddamn overrated. There, I’ve said it. This is the hill I am damn willing to die on. Malthael is so, sooo much worse. It comes from my own experiences, definitely, but the lengths he is willing to go to in a seemingly noble goal (to end the Eternal Conflict) hits so damn close to home, it’s painful. The manipulation. The scheming. The willingness to throw his own family to ruin. Holy hell. Even his shitty Chalice is an absolute bundle of evil.The thing makes you actually addicted to it, and AND it makes you insensitive towards other people’s feelings and experiences on the long run. Cuz that is what Wisdom is, right? RIGHT?! The series finally has a true Prime Evil - and his name is Malthael, Angel of Death. Don’t ask me why I am trying to redeem him in my fanfic, I guess I am just unwilling to give up on a compelling character like him. -

Gergő és az Álomfogók (”Gergő and the Dreamcatchers”) by Gyula Böszörményi An amazing multi-book series that is once again a YA “urban fantasy” adventure story. The catch is - it is entirely based on nomadic Hungarian pagan religion. I’m not sure if it got translated to other languages, unfortunately. This series had been a staple of my childhood, it paints a vividly beautiful and intriguing world of magic our nomadic ancestors had once believed in. Featuring old-school shamanism (not this bullshit New Age kind), throwing curses at each other using small magical leather whips, spirits, totem animals and a World Tree of the nomadic belief kind, Gergő and the Dreamcatchers is one hell of a ride into a world just below our own, and was one of the main nurturing sources of my now undying-love for fantasy adventure stories.

And thus, with that, I think I listed the most important ones. I actually read a shitton when I was small, but I think these are the ones that stuck with me the most. I hope I could interest you with some of them at least! :D Take care!

2022.07.18.

[c-is-for-circinate]

So as close as I am to fully escaping Hades for the first time, I figure I might take this opportunity to write down a couple of things I'm scared of from this ending. The story is so good so far! But I have seen good stories before! And there are patterns, right, patterns it's so easy for even good stories to fall into, so yeah, I have fears, and they mostly come down to Hades himself.

(Yep, this one got long again! People seem to be enjoying my game-reaction rambles, so, for your enjoyment under the cut: themes of separation and reunion, predictions for what Zagreus is the god of, and a whole lot of discussion of familial abuse dynamics, how they're depicted in fiction, and the work it takes to change them in real life. Stay warned! Stay safe!)

(ALSO, I still haven't made it past the first couple of chambers in the Temple of Styx, so no spoilers in the reblogs/comments please! Yes, even though the whole post is me going on about predictions and hopes and concerns about the path the story might take. I WILL GET THERE SOON.)

It has been really interesting watching some of the stuff the game is doing with themes of parting and reunion, and how that corresponds to life and death. So many of our social links are about reuniting estranged loved ones: Chaos and Nyx, Eurydice and Orpheus, Patroclus and Achilles. Hades is estranged from Olympus, Persephone left. And every time we leave, or try to leave, it is both an attempt at a parting (and Meg and Than are so hurt by that goodbye, or lack thereof) and an attempt at a reunion with our mother. Every time we die it's a reunion, every time we die it's fun, it's great, we get to go back home and check in with all of our friends and be impressed by whoever made Employee Of The [Timeperiod] and sell fish to the cook and put down yet more rugs. (My Zagreus has something of a rug addiction. What can you do.)

It's at the point where I feel pretty secure in stating that Zagreus is going to discover eventually that he is both life/death/rebirth god, and god of partings and reunions. Both halves of both of those things. People leave each other when they die and re-find their loved ones in death; you go away from one group of people to come back to another; you have to depart to return, and I really think that's where we're going to end up with Zagreus. He's going to reunite his various friends with their loved ones, he's probably going to restore communications between Hades and Olympus and even Persephone, he's going to reunite with his mom, and he's going to come back to the Underworld before he leaves to see everyone up top all over again. And of course the vehicle for all of this coming and going is death, because death is the ultimate departure and reuniter. (This is absolutely a religious concept containing a whole bunch of "oh hey our culture has a lot of Christian influence, doesn't it", Greek trappings aside, but that's fine, it's a game made in 2018 not 300 BC, these things happen. They keep calling the Underworld 'hell' and 'infernal'. It's all good.) Of course he's a cthonic god. Of course he bleeds, because you have to bleed in order to die, and Zagreus has to die again and again and again. That's his whole thing.

Thing is, though, looking at those themes, I am also continually aware of the fact that some partings are for a really good reason. Some partings should not end in reunion.

Yes, of course this is about Hades the abusive dad. I have been talking about Hades the abusive dad basically non-stop since I started playing this game, where did you think this post was going.

There are a few things I'm nervous about, separate but related, and at the core it all comes down to, I'm not okay with it if we learn why Hades got to be this way, and Zagreus forgives him as we-the-audience are meant to do, and Hades promises to do better, and nothing concrete about the situation is forced to change. Actual, meaningful, practical, logistical, non-hypothetical non-metaphorical change, not just for Zagreus but for Hades himself.

Because I know how this story tends to go, in fiction. Fictional abusive parents (especially in fantasy/sci-fi stories) tend to come in two types: 'coerced their offspring into actual murder with a side of physical abuse and optional unethical lab experimentation', or 'this was here to create character conflict, we didn't mean for it to read as actually abusive, this parent just has flaws to make them a good character, we swear!' Hades isn't the first type--we have never once seen Hades strike his son, or anybody, or even come out from behind his desk--which means that the fear is, always, always, in every piece of fiction, that he's the second. That the writers are going to decide that the right response to his abuses is remorse, forgiveness, and one really good conversation. That they don't realize it's abuse in the first place.

And, like. They have to know, right? They have to. They can't have done this by accident. (Sometimes, writers get so close by accident.) They can't have done so well at drawing out this situation simply by going, 'well, people are meant to fear this god, so they'd probably react like this, and I guess based on what I've seen in other stories or vague acquaintances they'd then do this,' and never put the name on the situation. Every single time we leave to the tune of a Hades word-flash, he's being dismissive, insulting, and sometimes downright cruel. He is cruel. They have to know!!!

But oh boy have I been consuming media for a lot of years, and oh boy have I run into a lot of writers who don't know.

Reconciliation is such a loaded word, but stories about dysfunctional families really do love it. Stories based around themes of reunion are primed for it. And of course, it's nice, it ties a happy ending off with a sweet little bow, everyone gets to be with the people they love and the family is safe and nobody gets hurt, but so rarely have I seen stories that show the actual work required to rebuild those relationships in a realistic or meaningful way. So rarely do stories trying to build that happy ending actually let the victim of abuse set and maintain boundaries. The character never gets to actually just cut the damn ties to the thing that hurt them. The character so rarely even gets to be safe.

And it's so hard in this game specifically, because "THERE IS NO ESCAPE", because every single thing about this game says that the story's not over when Zagreus gets to the surface, that no matter what he's going to have to come back. It's so hard, because this is a game about reunions. I am not going to get an ending where the abused kid trying to flee his toxic home and abusive dad actually gets to leave and stay gone, not in this one. And that hurts (I have watched and supported and done my best to help multiple real-life friends get the fuck out of homes like that, and stay gone, I have seen how hard it is, how complicated, how awful, and there are never stories for that), but I can live with it, if I get an ending where Zagreus is at least safe. Where things change. Where they really change.

Which is why I need actual, concrete, material changes in the logistics and power structure of the Underworld for this ending to be okay. Understanding why Hades is Like That doesn't cut it. Remorse doesn't cut it! Because look, even if Hades wants to do better, even if he admits he's at fault and tries to be better, he is still set up in a position as an all-powerful tyrant, and trying to become a better person is hard. There is nobody around who can keep him in check when he starts backsliding, which he will. Even if he doesn't want to, he will.

Because people are people, and it's really difficult to break patterns! Especially if everything around them stays the same. Hades is going to slip at some point, be cruel, be callous, be tyrannical, no matter how much of an effort he's making. Not to mention, it is STRESSFUL to face your own crimes and improve, it sucks, it feels bad. And what do habitual abusers do when they feel bad? What's the only coping mechanism Hades appears to have established for dealing with his own shit? That's right, it's inflicting suffering on everyone else around him. (This is why it doesn't really matter what circumstances drove Hades to act this way, why it can't matter--I believe that he is suffering, but he copes with that suffering by inflicting additional suffering on everyone around him, everyone who relies on him, and that's still true no matter what made him feel bad to begin with.) So then we just get a great old guilt-->lashing out-->more guilt-->more lashing out merry-go-round of abuse even as Hades is trying to change. That's how these things work. And yes, change is possible, improvement is absolutely possible, but the environment needs to change first. The system that enables and rewards Hades for acting this way can't stay in place. Things need to actually change, with people who are around to support Hades in his growth and also check his power, people who have power of their own to stop him. And however it happens, for this story with this protagonist with these goals to feel like a happy ending, Zagreus needs to be safe.

It would be okay, though a little disappointing, if those changes were mostly based in magic and fate and, idk, divine mind-control. (This story has been so grounded in actual human dynamics that a fantastical solution to a realistic problem would feel like a letdown, but if it actually solved the problem I'd be okay with it, more or less.) It would be okay, though a little disappointing, if the responsibility for bringing Hades to heel fell upon Zagreus and Persephone, if the two family members who he hurt badly enough that they felt the need to run away from him entirely now had to shoulder the burden of helping him fix himself. (There are definitely ways to write that dynamic better and ways to write it worse, and I think I trust these writers to land on the 'better' side of the scale, but I still don't love the implications.) I think I'd be pretty into it if Hades took a vacation off to Olympus to Work Out His Shit with his own family, while a coalition of Meg, Nyx, Thanatos, Zagreus, and Queen Persephone took over running the Underworld in his absence. I think we might end up getting some combination of those things. I'm hopeful. I think these writers might know what they've written. I think they might have a sense for what it'll take to fix.

But yeah, I'm nervous. (Nervous enough that I might switch to God Mode just to get through, combat has started getting really tedious instead of fun, I want to know what happens next, and this is a game and there is no shame in making it more fun for myself by making the boring parts a little quicker and easier.) I've seen so many stories go wrong. This one has done so much to earn my trust. We'll see if it breaks.

[do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger]

EXT. The Roof (Winter) - Sunset

Not Just Attracted to Women!Peter Maximoff x Fem and Not Just Attracted to Men!Reader

Based off of a dream I recently had: Peter and Y/N have a conversation on the roof of Xavier's in mid-December. Peter accidentally lets it slip that he might not be straight, and he is afraid that Y/N will think less of him because of it because this is the 80s. Y/N reveals that she is also not straight, and is saddened by the fact that Peter could think that she could ever hate him- especially for that. She calls him wonderful. Feelings ensue. Also, a touch of Cherik at the end because I give the people what they want.

Warnings: Swearing, Peter cries, internalized homophobia (this is the 80s-ish and Peter uses the word 'queer' in a kind of incorrect and kind of offensive manner, but it was internalized homophobia and not actually intended to be mean to anyone but himself so I forgive him), a touch of angst but mostly fluff, Charles called you two "children" even though you are obviously not, Erik is happy that his son has someone that cares about him the way you do, Peter is insecure but not super blunt about it, Peter has been deprived of being adored his entire life, bad writing, I mention a serial killer twice, historical inaccuracy because the word queer was still a slur so yeah.

A/N: This is literally the first thing I have ever written so please be nice to me, I wrote this instead of an essay. I would love a comment of any kind, even if it's just a heart emoji or something, and constructive criticism would be highly appreciated. Also 'N/N' stands for nick-name.

(Ok, so, full discloser: the format is odd. The bullet points represent dialogue, and the only dialogue is between you two love birds. The first bullet point is Peter, the second is Y/N, the third is Peter, and so on.)

“I dunno, the whole ‘liking people’ thing has always been weird for me.”

“How do you mean?"

“Pppffftt- 'how do you mean,' what are you, Shakespeare or somethin’?”

“Yeah, because that’s the era when ‘how do you mean' would have been a popular term. Ok, what do you mean?”

“Just- when other people were liking people I never really was?”

He was gesturing wildly and avoiding eye contact, as always. He wasn't uncomfortable with eye contact, he just got bored easily in conversations, he needed to keep himself occupied. In this situation that meant staring at the red and green lights covering the rest of the roof, the snowy trees all over the yard, and a holly garland around the gate. Peter wasn't Christian, but man, did he love their Christmas decorations.

“Like… now? In school?”

“Well- yeah… but also when I was younger. And I never liked the right people? Or... liked them in the right way?”

“So you’ve never liked anyone.”

“No, no… I definitely have. It was just… weird! I don't-”

His hands dropped to his side in defeat.

“I don’t think it’s that out of the ordinary. I would tell you if it was. Also, if it was... 'weird', like you said, that wouldn’t mean it was necessarily bad.”

He hadn’t really heard what she said, he was too busy pondering what his next sentence would be. When she wasn't speaking, he was rambling.

"I had some of the normal crap… like in movies when they talk about the fluttery stomach junk. I've had that around a few girls I've been friends with, also that phase with the boy stuff, a-"

“Wait, what phase with the boy stuff?”

“Like- when you’re in middle school or whatever and you're gay for a second.”

His phrasing was a joke, but the statement as a whole was not.

“…‘Gay for a second’?”

“…Yeah?”

“Hmmm..."

"Is that- not-"

"I don't think that is... 'normal'... per-say..."

“Oh… Really?”

His heart sunk.

“…Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“…Mhm.”

“…Shit.”

He suddenly looked almost embarrassed. He shifted his posture, seemingly trying to shrink into himself.

“Do you... wanna chat about it?”

Panic started to slowly rise in him.

“Um- forget I said anything.”

“Why?”

Something in him said to go on the "defense". He did not appear as calm as he was intending to.

“I’m not- gay! or anything. I like girls! I do!”

She put her hand on his arm.

“Hey- look at me for a second. We are not in court, and I never 'accused' you of being gay. That would be a very funny reality TV show, but not what is happening right now. Listen, theoretically if you were gay that wouldn’t be bad! And I wouldn’t be… whatever you.. think that I would be? I mean- however you are afraid I would act in a negative reaction to it? I would try to be here for you, and be as supportive as possible.”

He didn’t believe her.

“Ok, sure.”

“Peter.”

“What? You’re going to tell me that you would honestly be friends with a queer person- be friends with me if I was... not... normal?”

She was taken aback by his tone, the word he had used, and the way he said it, felt like a weight dropping on her shoulders.

“Oh. would you… not?”

It was her turn to seem nervous.

“What?”

“Would you- stop being friends with someone for liking someone that they… I don’t know… shouldn’t... would be the word I guess?”

Why, in this situation, was she nervous? Oh. His fear was replaced with guilt.

“No.”

“Ok.”

“So… are you… do you… why were you scared?”

“... Why were you?”

She expected a joke from him, something along the lines of “touché".

“Are you… gay?”

“No.”

Yeah, he didn’t believe her.

“Uh-huh”

“Really, I’m not. I’ve liked boys, but also... I've had feelings for girls. I’m not… straight. So I just want to let you know that it’s okay if you aren’t too.”

“I never s-“

She smiled at him with a bit of pity, she had been there. The self-loathing, the feeling of walking on minefields with so many people in your life.

“You are…”

She paused.

“I am… what?”

“Give me a second I’m trying to find the perfect word.”

“… Okay?”

“Wonderful.”

That was not exactly the word he was expecting. Like, at all.

“Huh?”

“That’s the word. Wait- let me start over. You gotta look me in my eyes as I say it, because it’s gonna be really poetic.”

“Uh… should I be scared?”

“No. Maybe a little. No.”

“… Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You are… wonderful.”

“Oh... Thanks?“

He looked away again, to be honest, he was a bit uncomfortable. He rarely received compliments, especially ones that seem so... genuine.

“I’m not finished, look back at me, just for a second. You are so wonderful- and I will support you as whatever you are! I want you to know that I can- I can barely even think of something you could do that would make me genuinely hate you- like… maybe if you Dahmer-ed people or like chopped up a-“

He found this was amusing, yet disturbing.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry- I just- the fact that you thought, even for a second, that I could hate you… is just-“

“I’m sorry”

“No! Stop it. Don’t be sorry.”

She stared at him expectantly.

“What do you want me to-“

“Take it back! The sorry!”

“How?”

“Say you aren’t sorry”

“N/N-“

“Peter.”

“Ok. I’m, ya know, not sorry.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be”

“You’re weird.”

“Yuh-huh. Says the most likely, from the little information I've gathered, bisexual in denial who also happens to be the fastest boy on earth who had to slow down exponentially to interact with other people who also, also, happens sitting on a roof in the dead of winter with me.”

“What’s by smexual?”

Something about the way he attempted to repeat her words must have been hilarious, he thought, because here she was, sitting in front of him, in a fit of childish giggles. He would smile if he weren't so confused.

“No- that’s not- what I said- it’s… wait!”

“What?”

“You’re tryna get me off topic!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Am not!”

“Are t- shit.”

“HAHA! Victory is a sweet dessert... wait is that even the saying? Still, I win you lose, nerd.”

“Ok, okay! go on.”

She was attempting to gather herself to give off a less jokey aura. It was half working, the "am not! are too!" argument a few moments ago made it hard for him to take her seriously, but he could tell it was important to her that he did, so he tried his best.

“You have to look at me again. just for a second.”

“I sw-”

“Just do it? Please?”

His attempt to put up a fight was thwarted by her small "please". He was pathetic.

“Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You…”

“Me… or- wait- I…”

“Are w-“

“Wonderful, yeah yeah. just get to the n-”

“No.”

“… No?”

“When you say it it doesn’t encapsulate it. It sounds silly.”

“Ok little miss ‘you art thou wonderful’, how would you have me say it?”

“I am you wonderful?”

“What?”

“You called me ‘little miss you are you wonderful’ what does that-“

“Ok! Would you just- shut up and call me wonderful one more time, please?”

She looked at him and blinked. That sentence surely came off as less ironic than intended.

“You are wonderful.”

She grabbed his face, in a half-joking manner. Her grab smushed his cheeks and she couldn't help but laugh a bit when she did it. Even though it was clearly a bit, he was still flustered.

“W-“

She shook him a bit.

"Shut up 'cause I'm about to say some beautiful and true shit. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are absolutely, unchangingly, and irrevocably wonderful and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it, Maximoff.”

After saying what she would (in 40 years or so) recall as a painfully John Green-ish statement in her blunt and matter-of-fact manner, she let go of her semi-ironic hold on his pink cheeks. Were his cheeks pink because it was absolutely freezing, or because his heart was beating faster than he had ever (and would ever, mind you) run, you ask? No comment.

“Wow.”

“Wow what.”

“You do say it better than I do.”

“Did you like how I stressed different parts of the sentence each time? I thought that was a nice detail.”

“Wow.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Wow.”

Did his voice just... break a little?

“Peter?”

“Uh- yeah?”

Was he a little... sniffle-y? She was now very concerned.

“Are you okay?!”

“Oh- um... yeah!”

No! No he was clearly not! He was sniffling!

“Really? 'Cause, you don't seem it.”

“It’s just- I just- wow.”

“Wow, what!?”

“That was just- uh-"

“Just what? It really wasn't that fancy, you seem much too impressed with me. Oh my God, was it terrible?”

“I mean it was really corny but w-“

“I swear to God if you say 'wow' one more time I may have to add ‘use of the word wow too much’ to the list of things that could make me hate you. Right next to the Dahmer stuff. That was a joke. Your use of the word wow is only mildly perturbing. Sorry."

She was panicking "just a bit".

“I’m sorry, I mean I’m not sorry. Sorry. Shit! sorry! I mean I’m not!”

And he was absolutely... full-on crying at this point.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

He was looking down at his mittens. Not that this is important, but they were very pretty mittens.

“Look at me, you klepto.”

He didn’t.

“You know- I’ve been hearing a lot of that 'look at me' stuff from you today. I mean- the klepto part is new-“

“Peter.”

“What?!”

He peaked up at her.

“Talk to me. Please, you're kinda scaring me, let me help.”

“I’m not sad!”

“You’re crying!”

“Yeah but not from the sads!”

“… The ‘sads’?”

“You know- when you get sad! It just means being sad! I don't- that’s what Wanda calls it, not me!"

He wiped his nose, tears still running down from his puffy eyes to his reddened cheeks.

“What are you crying from?”

“No one’s ever called me wonderful before.”

“I'm sorry! I did a few minutes ago and you didn’t cry!”

“No! You can't 'sorry' me if I can't 'sorry' you! And- yeah but that doesn’t count!”

“Why?”

“Because it only felt big when you said it the certain way!”

“What way!?”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks-“

“I'm sorry about that by the way I was j-“

“No! It’s really ok! Do it whenever! I mean don’t do it whene- shut up!”

“I’m not even talking! You're the one talking!”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks, and you go: you are wonderful.”

“Yeah???”

“No one ever called me that before!”

"Peter, I- well- they- they should! They should! More often! Then the amount that it happens now! I think. In my opinion."

"Or really looked at me like that!”

“Looked at you like what, Peter?”

“Like I was somethin’!”

“Well, you are… ‘somethin'! Whatever that means! And- I think you deserve to be looked at as such!”

“See?”

“What!?”

“You just-“

A strangled sob escaped from his throat. He didn't know how to explain.

“Pete.”

“Ew. I hate that nickname.”

He crossed his arms over his chest like a toddler, trying to completely ignore the fact that he was an emotional wreck.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

She opened her arms and gestured for him to come closer. He was hesitant at first- but gave up all the reasons he shouldn't move to be closer to her in exchange for the promise of comfort she was offering him. He crawled over to her and curled up in her arms. The way she held him made him want to cry more. Who does she think she is- holding him like he was worth holding? With her chin sitting on top of his hair? Letting him do that gross cry sob with the spit and the snot into her only winter coat? Rocking him, and shushing him, and petting his stupid, silver hair? She was warm, too! The audacity of this woman.

When Erik brought Charles into his office to grab a chess set, they saw the two in the window. For a moment Charles considered telling Peter and Y/N to get off of the high platform, seeing as the two were the reasons the "no sitting on the roof" rule was enacted in the first place (neither of them were coordinated whatsoever). Charles quickly dropped this notion when he saw the look on Erik's face, Charles could tell it made him so happy to see Peter be held like that, cared for like that. Erik's expression made Charles want to both tell Erik that he is the most precious thing in the world, and make fun of him (look at Mr. Metal, gone completely soft). Possibly he could do both at the same time. But for now, he is just going to pretend he didn't see the two outside of the window, and have Erik grab them their game, go to the living room, and pretend not to have read Erik's mind when he inevitably asks him how he always manages to pick the white chess piece at "random".

[passionate-hedgehog]

Sequins and Handcuffs

Pairing: Damien Haas x Reader (fem)

Warnings:Languages and mildly suggestive content (a joke between friends, nothing happens lol. Ya girl is ace and writing that freaks me out. Ick.)

Word Count: 1117

A/N: I’m so glad I started this prompt fic series. It’s my way of journaling and it’s more therapeutic than I thought. I’ve spent the last year trying to bury emotions but I’m working on finding them again so my writing gets better. In the meantime, enjoy my robotic nature. ALSO----> If you have fic req’s that you want, send them to MEEEEEE!!!! I’ll write for more than SMOSH. I’m just doing SMOSH only because I feel like these are making a miniseries at this point lol ♥

Summary: Reader is preparing for a visit from her two best friend’s from back home and is ridiculously excited. Damien is interested, too, but for a whole different reason.

The table that Y/n was sitting at in the costume corner was shaking in rhythm to her leg. The container of purple sequins that Rochelle had collected to add to Sarah’s dress nearly crashed to the floor before the designer caught them. The woman put them back in their spot before tapping Y/n’s leg twice.

“If you don’t stop, you’re going to jostle the whole building down. You better get it together before your excitement ruins your stomach for the day. You know how you get.” Rochelle went back to sticking pins into the mannequin. 

Y/n tapped the tips of her fingers along the wood in place of bouncing her legs. The costume designer would have sworn that the other woman could have dented the table by the sheer force of her movements. 

“For the love of- Go run a lap or something. Better yet!” Rochelle grabbed a toolbox from the shelf holding bundled fabric and an assortment of scissors. “Go run this to Sarah for me? She wanted to borrow some things for a project. Maybe if you crabwalk, you’ll run out all of that energy.”

“Yes, Mom.” Y/n mumbled, dodging a ball of twine that had been thrown at her head.

----------

The producer was found standing behind a camera during a Try Not To Laugh Shoot. Y/n stood quietly in the corner and watched the antics of the cast. She found it particularly difficult to stay quiet when Jackie rolled around on the floor whining in a blue dress but absolutely lost it when Noah found himself stuck to Jackie’s stool. When Damien came out from behind the screen, she rolled her eyes and smirked. Of course the man would know how to get someone out of locked handcuffs.

After the shoot wrapped, Y/n approached the producer to finish the task she was given. “Hey, Sarah. Rochelle said to give you this toolbox?”

“Oh. yes! Score! I have some pillowcases I want to repurpose but I’m missing some things. I still gotta get Claudio’s head measurement...Tell her thank you when you go back. I’m SO EXCITED.” The producere shimmied with the box held up next to her face. “Tonight is gonna rock! Speaking of…”

“Nope. That’s my cue. Gotta jet!” Y/n turned tail and ducked out of the studio as quick as she could. When she made it back to the costume corner she found the door was locked. A sign that read “Y/n, you’re banished until after my Zoom luncheon. Run more laps. Chase a squirrel. Do SOMETHING that’s not destructive. Thanks, bby.” was taped on the locked door.

“Well, that’s harsh.” A man’s voice rang, right next to her left ear.

“God freaking dammit, Damien Christian Haas. I swear to-”

“You just did.”

Y/n  took the hand she had frantically placed over her heart and used it to swat at the man’s baseball cap. “I’m so close to fighting you. I don’t think you understand.”

“Yikes. So, what did you do to get banished from ‘Ye Ol Cloth Abundance’?”

“Ye Ol...the fuck…” The woman shook the words from her head. “I...might have been a disturbance...possibly destructive…”

Damien fake gasped. “You? A disturbance? AND destructive?”

“I said ‘possibly’, Dames. Possibly.”  

He smiled a toothy smile. “Yeah, that’s going to be an issue.”

Y/n cocked an eyebrow, thoroughly confused. “What? What’s going to be an issue?”

“Uh...nothing. I have to get something from the break room. Wanna join since you can’t get in there?” The actor pointed towards the offending sign on the door.

“Yeah, sure.” She agreed and they turned to begin their trek.

“So, what made you distracted enough to be a disturbance?”

“My two best friends from back home are coming to visit and I can’t freaking wait!” Y/n started bouncing through the next few steps. “I haven’t seen them in years. We had some time apart because of life and everything. But when we separately joined a forum for cat owners, we clicked all over again.I didn’t even know either of them were in it until I saw them talking to each other over the comments section. It was like we were never even apart.”

“Oh man, that’s a solid friendship right there. I’d be super jealous if I didn’t have Shayne.” Damien finished with a smirk similar to the one Y/n held after the TNTL filming.

Y/n jokingly nudged her elbow into Damien, The man, in turn, smoothly linked their arms together and then ran his hand down her wrist to lace her fingers with his. He slowly pulled her to a stop when they were in a quiet corner in the hallway.

“Do I get to meet them when they visit?”

“Of course! I’m going to introduce them to as many people as I can! They’re my babies. Of course I’m going to show them off.” The woman giggled.

Damien seemed to be thinking through his next words. “Yes, but what version of me are you introducing to them?”

Y/n shook her head. “I don’t...the human...one?”

“I mean like the co-worker version of me? Or the version of me that’s holding your hand in this quiet corner of the hallway?” He held up their hands as if to show proof to her that they were indeed linked.

After blowing out some air and making noises that made no sense, Y/n pulled her hand back and pointed down the hall. “Ya know what? I’m suddenly overtaken by a hunger that only Jackie and a coffee can fix.”

“You’re going to ask her for advice, aren’t you?” The actor called after her, since she retreated quickly.

“You don’t know my life!” Y/n pulled out her cellular device and opened a text as she briskly escaped the scene.

Y/n: Pree, Nat, if I perish from unsettled “romantic” sticky-situations before you get here, please feed my cat.

Nat: Did...did you mean to word it that way?

Pree: I’m sorry if you WHAT????

Y/N: NO THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT. HOLY BANANAS. I meant like...a situation I don’t necessarily want to be in...but don’t want to not be in. 

Y/N: Ja feel?

Pree: No. Ja totally don’t feel.

Nat: Sweetie, I think you need to use more words.

Y/N: It’s a stupid boy thing about a stupid boy.

Nat: Like how stupid?

Pree: Yeah like my son’s father stupid or like Nat’s husband stupid?

Nat: Excuse me what? I love my husband, even if he is sometimes stupid. Bless his heart.

Y/N: Okay yeah, Nat’s husband stupid.

Pree: O.o

Nat: ?!?!?!?!?!

Y/N: help.

[belle-keys]

I Love Matthew Fairchild aka Incoherent Thoughts about Chain of Iron (2021) by Cassandra Clare

I made one of these rant-rave reviews for SJM's book so check it out if you want, no pressure tho lmao.

Aight so I finished Chain of Iron last night and OMG I HAVE TO YELL like I loved it sooo much like yooo, I have a lot to say. I know the book is new so... beware for spoilers plebs.

Also context: I been reading the Shadowhunter books since I was 12 and I'm 19 now *insert dead emoji face* so yeah, I'm just so happy rn with where the Chronicles have come and the fact that they’re still ongoing *insert uwu face*. I remember when in like 2014-2015 or something when Cassandra Clare teased that Will and Tessa's kids' generation was gonna get a trilogy set in Edwardian London, loosely based on Great Expectations, and holy hell? I think that was perhaps one of the best days of my life considering how much I adore The Infernal Devices (that trilogy really changed the way I see YA literature... don't ask cus I won't shut up about it) (also yes I read TMI and loved it too but there's a “generation gap” between TMI and the other Shadowhunter books stylistically so don't ask me about that either cus I also won't shut up).

Anyway, shoo from here if you want a critical essay on Chain of Iron. I'm not providing that, this is just me raving here for the fun.

Listen... I want the bulk of this to just be two main things: The Matthew Situation, and then all the literary and judeo-christian meta aspects of it.

BUT I ALSO NEED TO TALK ABOUT EVERYTHING ELSE SO FRICK LET'S JUST START WITH THE OBVIOUS SHIT LIKE THE PLOT AND WHATEVER

Okay, the plot and writing and shit, let's get that out of the way:

The WHOLE Jack-the-Ripper-esque ambiance was just sooooo good man wow like I did not expect the book to take this cold turn but it worked so well. There was such a contrast between Jamie and Cordelia's warm little house and then the cold winter and the stabbings and shit and it felt like a nice little callback to the actual Ripper phenomenon that preceded them and a nod to the Whitechapel Fiend story from Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy.

Bitch OFC that whole thing with Wayland was a set-up like nawww that was too easy to spot and I get why Cordelia feels like shit about it.

Dawg Lucie was just the Among Us imposter here in that my girl was just venting and sneaking around with dead people and I was like nooooo girl run, don't deal with Fade this is a set-up THINK ABOUT JULES LUCIE THAT'S LIKE YO GREAT-GRANDSON *sobs* but yeah anyway my girl has death powers she gonna kill some bitches next book.

You see that confrontation between Lilith and Belial? MASTERPIECE DIALOGUE like this was the point within which I was just like "yo is this the book of Genesis or a YA Fantasy novel" like when Lilith said "I may have been cast out but I did not fall" like??????????????????? I YELLED she did not have to END Belial like that. What a bad bitch.

More on Lilith and Belial... "You, who brought nations into darkness? Shall I finally be able to tell the infernal realms you have gone mad, lost even the image of the Creator." HAHAHHAHAHA SHE SAID "YO BELIAL GO GET SOME THERAPY AND GET OFF MY ASS" LIKE??????

Ughhhh yasss Clare has improved writing diverse characters in this book compared to in The Dark Artifices in my opinion... I'm not gonna expand on it cus ain't nobody got time for that but like, I enjoyed how she wove Persian poetry and tales into the story and the way in which she writes Cordelia and Alistair. They're not caricatures of Persian people but rather multi-faceted beings who also happen to be Persian and I appreciate that. Also, Alistair and Thomas and Anna and Ariadne were just so fun and interesting to read as coupbles but also as individuals. She really higlighted diversity in a very natural manner. All I need is a hijabi character and I’ll die a happy woman lmao.

The level of META man like the references to Classics and art (I swear, she might have compared Matthew to angels out of Caravaggio AND Rosetti AND Boticelli paintings and I Am Living For It) and just all the quotes from holy books and shit omg I love it here like you really feel catapulted into the time period, she draws reference to external art and philosophy so well and I feel like she upped the notch on it in this book (didn’t know that was possible but it was the prose is BEAUTIFUL, archaic, but not pretentiously so). No, like the characters live in their OWN worlds of literature and art and history in the way we are living in THEIRS. They quote Wilde and Milton while we'll quote Clare. It's awesome.

This is an unusually structuralist take even from me but: I like the way the milieu social of the book, i.e., the high society Edwardian circles and their values, have a direct influence on the plot. James and Cordelia got married because society’s values essentially forced them to, not a demon. Cordelia abandons Jamie at the end of Iron because her shame as a woman in society and fear for her reputation made her, not a demon. Thomas and Alistair can't be together solely because of how Alistair tarnished the reputation of the Fairchilds and Lightwoods by using the horror of infidelity against them. Issues relating to marriage, gender roles, etc, stemming DIRECTLY from the time period rule the sequence of events to the same degree as the epic fantasy aspects (demons, Princes of Hell, the lore itself) do and I LOVE that dear God above.

OKAY THE GOOD SHIT LET US TALK ABOUT CHARACTERS AND SHIPS (N.B. but imma discuss Matthew and the Fairstairs situation separately below this portion):

Alistair's redemption arc: No, cus Alistair's redemption arc is honestly amazing. He really did change and it's not like his betterment as a person was linked to any one heroic deed but rather he simply decided he wanted to be better especially for his family and he decided to become a proper protective son, a caring brother, and an amiable friend. He fully owned up to his Malfoy tendencies and apologized without expecting forgiveness. He shows how he cares in the little ways and omg it's so sweet and tender. I really do want him to love himself now and be embraced by Matthew especially and the rest of the Thieves.

Dawg Lucie and Jesse are so funny to me like it's so hilarious how this girl fell in love with a whole ass ghost that no one else knows about like HHAHA. Are Lucie and Jesse my ult ship ever? Nah, but it's nothing to do with Clare, it's just that their relationship happened pretty quick and feels quite like something epicly romantic that Lucie herself would write. I just like slow burn and friends-to-lovers the most from Clare. To be honest part of me just wanted Lucie to not have a romantic arc all together but like, it's all good, I'm not complaining.

Okay Grace- like yooooooooooo I never hated her yunno. She has been abused and isolated all her life. It's not that she is a bad person, but rather that she does not know what being a person even entails. Can't even say she's a “doll” of a person cus she's never even been pampered like one by her family. I really started understanding her motivations since when they gave us her half-childhood with Jesse. I want better for her but cmon can she REALLY be saved???

GRACE X CHRISTOPHER *pretends to be shocked*... Okay, sometime in the middle of the Dark Artifices series some big brain put together a very thorough family tree of the families and like, it clearly showed that Grace and Christopher got married so like, lmfaooooo, I knew this was coming one way or another, but the journey to this ship is more important than the destination. Like in a way Christopher is such a cute baby lamb that it makes sense he'd end up being immune to her Grace-ness when he's just a cute little Einstein boiii. Like this is just so funny to me cus he's so oblivious to social conventions while she makes the milieu social her entire life so OFC it's gonna work. Like, this is such a worlds-colliding trope like just Give It To Me.

James and Grace - aw mannn Jamie just had me fricking wanting to hit a wall every two seconds cus like yooooooo every single time I think he and Cordelia are gonna stop being emotionally-constipated spouses, Jamie says some kinda shit like "omg me and Daisy are just friends uwu" like DO I NEED TO HIT YOU?????????? See I can't blame him for not slamming the door on Grace's face even tho he totes should- Jamie is so cerebral and kind that even if Grace wasn't using the enchantment on him, I think he would always be soft for her even if it isn't in a romantic way. There's just so much miscommunication cus like he said "Thank God" when she broke off the engagement with Charles and lowkey embraced her but it also wasn't his fault cus it wasn't even romantic BUT OFC IT LOOKED HORRIBLE TO CORDELIA like James literally never told the woman at least once that he loved her so OFC she thought she was back to square one with him dear God above what a mess. Not his fault, but she DID set down one rule for him: don’t cheat with Grace. And yeah even tho he hasn’t properly cheated, it must FEEL horrible to her cus she’s just been enduring the pain of their unrequeted love for so long :((

See imma just say it but if Cordelia thought that James didn't love Grace then she def would have confessed to him about her feelings right but like James, on the other hand, was delaying his own romantic confession cus he was BEING EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED and I can't even say the bracelet was solely to blame cus like my boi was just being so difficult omg I believe he should be lightly spanked by his three parents aka Will, Tessa and Jem *cries*.

Cordelia is such a MOM like she's so mature and stable and her self-preservation instinct? OFF THE CHARTS I love this woman like James definitely treated her well as a hubby but like I JUST WANTED HER TO HAVE CLOSURE ABOUT SOMETHING and boy oh boy she did get that closure she got it good but not from the person she expected in the LEAST *hehe* *pelican screeching*... like Lucie was being sus with the whole ghost business and James was being just, quite a case, dealing with Grace and Belial right and I don't blame them at all for their secrecy and shit but her FATHER DIED and her friends were hiding a lot from her so in a way she turned to Alistair for help but he could only do so much cus of his own pain (she couldn't even talk to her mom cus she's pregnant and she doesn't wanna stress her right) and then there was this emotional block between her and Jamie, Lucie was often absent and conspiring with the dead... the last person remaining was HIM (imma discuss this soon), but yeah my heart just went OUT to her cus she's tryna save herself and her family and she just doesn't know what to do. That's why I love the way her mom told her to stop holding herself back for others and live her own life. Like Cordelia grew on me so much cus in Gold she undoubtedly was a strange Elizabeth Bennet-wallflower hybrid and I... do not usually get attached to wallflowers but in Iron I feel like I finally understood that she was just tryna be unproblematic and self-preserving all along and nottt put her family and friends in a tough situation.... she reminds me of my mom personality-wise so yeah I’m totally rooting for her now that her *situation* in the past seems clearer.

Anna, Thomas and Matthew are such a SQUAD lmfaooooo like united in their gayness they'd be so unstoppable.

Will and Tessa are the most in-love of all the in-loves in this story and I respect that so much.

I lost a year to my life every time the romance between James and Cordelia got cockblocked. Like they were MARRIED and I thought they were gonna at least sleep next to each other at least once BUT NO James couldn't take a hint omg I'm actually gonna eat my fist and sob (but in retrospect, I think this serves a bigger purpose in terms of the narrative structure i.e. the interruption of all the spicy James and Cordelia action serves a bigger purpose which I think brings me to my next section, *exhale*)

Welcome to the Matthew Fairchild Enthusiast Club (this section is me talking out loud; it makes no sense):

bitch.

LISTEN TO ME LISTEN WELL I LOVE THIS BOY SO MUCH IMMA SCREAM I REALLY AM GONNA SCREAM MY FIST IS LITERALLY IN MY MOUTH *BACKFLIPS OFF THE ROOF WITH LANA DEL REY PLAYING*

Okay like where to BEGIN I think the Shadowhunter boy who I'm most attracted to is Julian while the one I love the most is Will but I think I see myself in Matthew the most. Like ever since that first story where the Thieves all met at the Academy then got expelled, I think that I just KNEW Matthew was destined to be epic. Plus the whole Wilde obsession? I’m no libertine myself but I just love his chaos and passion for life.

NO CUS HE'S SO WITTY AND SWEET AND EPIC AND YET SO SECRETIVE AND DEAR GOD ABOVE AHHHHH WILL HE SURPASS JULIAN FOR ME??? Ion even know but this is just sodjsgdwsdygyegydgef

Hear me out but I said after finishing Gold last March that I wanted this book to be Matthew's healing arc right so halfway into the book when I realized that we weren't getting all that good healing arcing I was confused just cus I thought it seemed natural to address all of his alcohol issues and sadness by now. LITTLE DID I KNOW CASSIE WAS SETTING UP A WHOLE OTHER ARC WITH HIM THAT I WOULD HAVE NEVER GUESSED WTH.

At first I thought Matthew didn't have feelings for anyone at all, and if he DID develop feelings unexpectedly, I fricking thought that maybe he's catching feelings for James, if anyone??? I mean, I did have some suspicions about Matthew from the get-go: like he's so secretive and as readers we think we know everything there is to know about him since we were all privy to the truth potion incident in his short story right BUT NO I GOT PLAYED AND I DESERVE IT SO BADDDDDD.

Listen I hadn't shipped him and Cordelia simply because I never thought it in the realm of possibility but it MAKES SENSE as a ship... think about it: he never says what he feels, he flirts with her like he does with EVERYONE, he is kind to her in the way he is with EVERYONE. Really, Matthew is shippable with everyone, doesn’t matter if they’re taken cus that’s just what his Matthewnes allows for ya feel. There is such a beautiful irony that CORDELIA herself did not see this coming. Even the little teasers and hints in Gold have only NOW started making sense to me likejhss. I just felt like the hints in book 1 did not indicate to me that Matthew really harbored real romantic feelings for Daisy. I thought he was upset that James and Cordelia were being fakes, not a developing CRUSH on the woman fgs.

Not to mention that you usually sense a ship building when the emotional connection or sexual tension between the characters is made clearer but to me their FRIENDSHIP grew right but it didn’t feel like Cordelia was thought that she liked him or he liked her so that means me and Cordelia are clowns *together* 😤

Okay I was lowkey having SUSPICIONS but I immediately shut them down right... like firstly when he took her to the White Horse in his car and she went OFF and OFF and off about how she felt free for the first time? I thought Cassie was just tryna develop Cordelia's self-liberation arc through Matthew there. Heck, I didn't even think ANYTHING of it when Matthew confession to Cordelia about the "truth potion" incident at all cus I was like they're FRIENDS??? BUT now it's adding up now...

See when they were at the inn place and he was telling her that she doesn't in the least seem like a 100 year-old married woman? I was like hmmmm he's so sweet but why did Cassie phrase it like that like??? When Cordelia later reiterated that she thought Matthew's flirting was “meaningless”?? I was like hmmm kinda SUS tho. And then when he and James had their fight over the way Jamie kissed Grace like again I thought he was just like? ion know? mad at James for it but I didn't think he was in LOVE with Cordelia??? So I immediately put aside my slight suspicions. The probability that he had a crush on James at that point seemed more likely to me.

BUT THEN it started hitting me that every time Matthew drank, even before he explained his issue with the truth potion, that Cordelia would note it, she would worry about him, she would think of her father which seemed so poetic to me, history repeating itself and all that but this time you can FIX it??? Yeah, but again I didn't think the L WORD would be involved man???

Now imma sound like a delulu shipper here but it just makes sense they would develop feelings logically- reason being that it definitely is possible based on the way Cassie set up the story, like there's a combination of little “friend things” that can turn this into a proper ship: Matthew rescues Cordelia in the ballroom when Grace captures James' attention in Gold. Cordelia sees her father in Matthew all the time but knows now she has a chance to be there for him in the way she couldn't have been there for Elias (classic “history repeats itself” trope, she doesn't want Matthew drinking in Paris like dhshghdfhdhch). Cordelia tastes freedom for the first time when driving with Matthew. Matthew caught James and Cordelia making out in the room and was pissed but not even HE properly knew why then??? Umm, when she thinks James is forreal cheating with Grace on her she subconsciously goes to Matthew??? I also found it funny just how every intimate marital moment between her and James got interrupted somehow. Like, it's as if the narrative is just a living force REFUSING to let James and Cordelia as a ship be consecrated. Heck, every time Matthew is scantily clothed Cordelia notes it. LITTLE CRUMBS I TELL YOU LITTLE CRUMBS.

I tell you when Cordelia showed up to Matthew's flat I thought they were gonna f*ck as friends but I got SOMETHING EVEN BETTER SOMEHOW

THEY ARE GOING TO PARIS LA BELLE EPOQUE PARIS THE PARIS OF DREAMS AND ART LIKE??? FRICKKKKK I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING AT ALLLL MAN? I deadass thought the story would be restrained to the UK but like it MAKES SENSE the trope subversion MAKES SENSE.

“In Paris, with you, I will not need to forget.” SHITTRGEGGGDG

BUT CORDELIA LOVES JAMES TOO LIKE I CAN'T DENY THAT... where are we GOING with this like Matthew wouldn't lie about his feelings and yet Cassie wouldn't give us Matthew and Cordelia crumbs to only end it in the next book immediately for her to just ditch him for James. I mean she was clearly holding back on fleshing out James and Cordelia as a ship for this but to WHAT END??? Daisy feels wild and free with Matthew and she feels warm at home warm with James. I can’t advocate for the sinking of ANY ship here.

Imma say what we're all thinking: Is she gonna give us a Will x Jem x Tessa type situation where Cordelia gets both of them cus I'm not strong enough for this but I also think it'd be really funny if James gets a surprise bi awakening in the next books and then we get POLY even tho this would never happen, it’s actually impossible, because of the whole parabatai thing.

Listen I ship Cordelia and Matthew much more than Cordelia and James, not that I dislike James in any way tho. It's just: Matthew is so unrestrained and she's so composed. They seem like an unlikely pair so it makes sense that they hit harder for me. James and Cordelia have such similar personalities but I ALSO don't ship James with Grace at all so like?? Poly would be... ideal... but it can’t happen especially cus they are fricking parabatai... a Will-Jem-Tessa situation seems more likely but mannnn ion know what to expect. I just want FAIRSTAIRS to have their moment in Paris. I mean James and Matthew clearly don't abhor each other for this.

Take everything I say with several grains of salt, take everything I say with the whole Dead Sea actually, cus I damn well know that Matthew is so flirty and whatnot that I’d have shipped him with anyone in their little circle but now that she set him up with Cordelia it all feels so right?? I have wanted this man in a good relationship since he walked onto the page in Nothing But Shadows so-

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I can't believe Cassia duped me like this omg, Matthew is gonna have his healing arc in Paris with Cordelia by his side like- THIS IS ALL I HAVE WANTED AND SO MUCH MORE. Question to yall btw: are you all as surpised at Fairstairs as me or did yall see it coming all along like smart people? Am I a lone clown? 🥺

BRUH okay criticisms of CC?:

Lmfao a part of me feels like I GOTTA say something bad about CC or the book but honestly I have no objective complaints about it as of now. Am I saying that it’s the PEAK of Young Adult literature and Urban Fantasy? I mean, I make no such claims tbh. I’m not here to be critical when I read as a hobby and when CC’s writing makes me happy regardless of how flawed some people see it.

Okay what next?

So like I’m excited for the adult high fantasy she’s releasing in the fall and whatever other works she might be releasing outside of Chain of Gold within the Chronicles.

As for TLH itself? Man I’m just VIBING like I suspect I will reread Chain of Iron soon and maybe one of the anthologies just because I am happy that this series actually happened after me waiting like 6 years for it when it was just a concept: a Dickensian retelling filled with poetry and culture and history and the conventions I so loved in TID at age 12. This is all I been wanting tbh. I’m just enjoying watching this series come to fruition for it to inspire and transform me in some way. I feel like in a way my coming-of-age aligns with that of these specific characters yet I ALSO feel like I raised Jamie since infancy. Wack.

MATTHEW AND CORDELIA IN FRANCE LA BELLE EPOQUE TO BE EXACT IMMA CRY I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING AND AHHHHHH. ALSO WILL AND JAMIE GOING TO CORNWALL TO GET LUCIE AND MAYBE BOND I LOVE WILL. HE WAS ONE OF MY DILF AWAKENINGS AT AGE 12 AND NOW HE’S HERE AGAIN IMMA CRY. I WANNA SEE MATTHEW GET HAPPY. AHHH.

Ending with a fun quote: “In the wise words of someone or other, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Maurice.” 😉