#for those wondering oc stands for original character

[emily-mooon]

I would like to inform y’all that I am back into the realm of oc brainrot.

[sabziesart]

Hero's gotta eat 🍔

[turtlemurmurs]

Sunday afternoon trip to the hardware store hehe <3

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

This is a fandom related thing. I will say that right off the bat, but I needed a few extra opinions on this since it feels like I am alone on this.

AITA for killing off my OC in a group rp?

For some context, I (using the name Snow for myself) joined a group rp with some other people where we would come up with a plot together. Everyone would be using original characters (OCs) It was agreed that the things that happened would be voted on, but people were not allowed to control what other people did with their OCs. It is the whole "my oc, my rules" thing. For those who don't get it, it basically means that since the oc is yours, only you get to decide what happens to them.

To the story. I had plans I wanted to do with my OC. I wrote her to be someone who was secretly working for the villains and was only tricking the others into thinking she was their friend. The only other people who were aware of this were the moderators, and they had approved of it.

What was the problem then you may be wondering? Well the problem was that another member, I'll just call them Star, had said that they had gotten an emotional attachment to my OC. Which I personally found weird, so I typically tried not to be stuck alone with them.

When it came to reveal the plot twist with my oc, Star had a freak out upon finding out. They started crying and complaining that it wasn't right to do that and they could not picture "their" emotional support character doing that. The other members decided to comfort Star. They always sided with Star and acted like they were oh so special. The others were saying that this was all just a joke and that it wasn't actually going to happen. "It is just a joke right, Snow?" they had said.

And I replied with. "No. It's not a joke. My oc has been working with the villains the whole time."

Star's response was to have a meltdown over it, saying that I was out to hurt them and ruin their day. So I ended up getting a message from the moderators asking me to change my OC's backstory as to not upset Star further. They ended up telling Star that it would be changed to just having my OC be mind controlled the whole time.

This was not something I agreed with, but I pretended to play along begrudgingly. I hated that the group decided to treat my OC like she belonged to Star. But I played along and came up with my own idea. There was a plot point that came up in the rp that would have someone die off, so I took it as my opportunity to kill off my own OC. If I wasn't allowed to do what I had planned for her initially, then she wasn't going to stick around anymore.

After I killed her off, Star logged off and vanished for an entire 3 days. All the other members constantly messaged them to try and get a response from her, but they did not answer until they returned. When they logged on, they said that they had to a panic attack over what had happened and felt hurt that I would do that.

I just responded with "my oc, my rules. I quit this group." Then I quickly went through and deleted every little bit of information I had shared about my OC with that group before leaving their discord. After, I got a lot of messages from all the members, about sending the information so that Star could continue playing with my OC since she was their comfort character and it wasn't fair I was doing this to them especially after their panic attack. I said no and blocked everyone who had asked me that.

Sure I feel bad that they had a panic attack, but I felt betrayed that everyone else was willing to bend the rules for them and allow them to control my OC. Even if I no longer use said OC, I still wouldn't let them have her. This is still my property and I stand by the "my oc, my rules" thing.

So AITA for killing off my OC?

What are these acronyms?

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Winner Winner, Stormfly's Dinner

Pairing: Hiccup 'Horrendous’ Haddock III x fem!oc

Word count: 6.7k

Hiiii I was wondering if you could write a fic about the dragon races? I’ve seen your fic about the Lightfury stealing a dragon rider and really enjoyed it and I loved the dynamic the Lightfury had with your oc, Toothless and Hiccup even tho she doesn’t seem to like him too much. I was hoping you could incorporate that dynamic into an x reader fic? Also, you're free to use Stardust as the name of the Lightfury since I thought it was so cute. Since I know it probably wouldn’t fit into your original story I thought it might be easier to do it as something completely new with similar characters if that’s alright? Love your work and can’t wait to see more! From Anonymous

Hiii i was wondering if u could do something like a dragon racing fic with the sheep since I thought that might be fun. I’ve seen most people have requested Hiccup so I’m just going to request him as well since that’ll be fun and easy for you. So maybe like just segments where the reader is singled out with each rider so she can have some fun banter or moments with them and then maybe she gets the black sheep and wins the whole thing and hiccup is super proud of her &lt;33333 From Anonymous

(Y/N): Your name

(H/C): Hair colour

(D/N): Dragon name

A/N:

A loud horn rang out as (Y/N) stepped into the old dragon training arena, her Lightfury–Stardust–following behind her. The noise signalled the nearing of the annual dragon race, letting those know to start making their way over soon. The stands were empty but the pit of the arena was full of dragon riders and their dragons, applying paint to the wings and heads of their dragons.

"Running a bit late now, are we?" Astrid called out as (Y/N) passed her. She wore a smug grin on her face, coloured orange and blue just like Stormfly behind her. Stormyfly perked up at the sight of (Y/N) and Stardust, trying to take a few steps towards the pair to greet them. At the sound of her talons scraping along the stone floor, Stardust's head snapped towards her, and a flash of teeth and a wrinkle of her nose deterred Stormfly from getting too much close. (Y/N) placed a hand on Stardust's head, lightly pushing it in the direction of where a mass of darkness sat patiently and with his chest puffed out slightly as its one-legged rider smeared paint across his head. At the sight of the other fury, Stardust went gracefully over without a second question, leaving (Y/N) to fend for herself.

"Hi, Stormfly. Looking good," (Y/N)'s voice rose as she ran her hands under the Deadly Nadder's chin, earning an elated hum from the beast. A bubble of joy rose from the pit of (Y/N)'s stomach to her chest, lighting her up until her soft laughter rang out around the arena. Astrid soon joined in on the laughter as she followed after her wayward dragon. "You ready for today, Astrid? Been feeding Stormyfly as much chicken as possible?"

At the mention of chicken, Stormfly lit up. Rising from (Y/N)'s grip and stomping her feet lightly in excitement. Astrid raised both her hands to try to calm the Deadly Nadder down, shooting (Y/N) a feigned annoyed glare. "We've definitely been getting some extra practice in, though I wouldn't say… you know what is needed to beat all these knuckleheads. What about you? Got any secret flights in with Stardust in preparation for today?"

(Y/N) ticked her head to the side, the corners of her lips lifting. Her body language showed indifference, but Astrid could tell something was going on that (Y/N) wasn't telling her. "Stardust and I will do just fine without any extra help. We always have a few tricks up our sleeves."

"We'll see about that once we get in the air," Astrid comments as she leads Stormfly back to her painting station. She dabbed a small sponge into the bowl filled with orange paint before lifting her arm to run it along Stormfly's outstretching wing, leaving a trail of paint behind that she would later go over to make the colour brighter and the lines steadier. "I took the liberty of setting up your station near Hiccup's. I hope the colours are to your liking."

"I'm sure whatever you picked out will make Stardust and I stand out amongst the rest of you," (Y/N) called over her shoulder with a laugh ringing through her words, choosing to ignore any undertones of teasing that she could find in Astrid's voice. (Y/N)'s eyes now landed on a new target. A target that she wouldn't be able to reach as quickly as she would have hoped to.

"(Y/N), I need your honest opinion–well, not too honest, or I might cry–about my battle paint!" Tuffnut called out as he saw the (H/C) haired girl walking past. As (Y/N) turned to take in the mix of colours on his face, she jumped back at the closeness of the boy. Tuffnutt had run up to her and was standing with his face pushed outwards with his eyes widened. On it was a yellow skull with the rest of his face blacked out. "Is it too much? Too little? I think I should add more paint but Ruff disagrees."

"It's, uh, very you," (Y/N) said slowly, her palms extended in front of her and faced up as she acknowledged the thought-out design. (Y/N) took half a second to think out her answer before she was closing a fist and lightly punching Tuffnut in the shoulder with it, "You know, I think you should go with your heart. If you think you should add more, then by all means, add more."

Tuffnut stared at her for a few seconds before he threw both hands into the air, "This is one of the many reasons you are my favourite," He exclaimed with a large grin overtaking his feature before he was spinning around and walked back towards his sister, arms still in the air. "You hear that, Ruff? (Y/N) thinks I'm brilliant!"

A smile displayed itself on (Y/N)'s face as she watched Tuffnut happily run back over to his paint station, his half of Barf and Belch looming over as he watched Tuffnut happily smear more paint on his face. The groan that rang out did little to wipe the smile off (Y/N)'s face as she turned to see Ruffnut glaring at her with her arms crossed. "Great, now I'm going to have to deal with the aftermath of all that."

"If it makes you feel any better Ruff, you get to dunk water on his head later. Maybe even repeatedly," (Y/N)'s words got an evil grin stretched across Ruffnut's face as she rubbed her two hands together, shooting her twin brother a sideways glance as she imagines the future that awaited for her.

(Y/N) didn't stick around for too much longer after that since she was losing time. Everyone else had finished painting at least themselves or their dragons and were now either going in for more details or working on whatever they hadn't done yet while she was still yet to even see the colour of her paint. Her hope for getting started didn't stay around for long as a short Viking called out to get her attention.

"Oi, (Y/N)," Snotlout yelled as he waved a large hand at her. Hookfang stood behind his dragon rider, sporting some red and yellow paint along his wings and a little bit on his jaw and cheeks. (Y/N) quickly walked over to greet the boy, not one for ignoring anyone. "You mind helping do my face? I would use the mirror normally, but the twins shattered it earlier while trying to call dibs on it."

"Are you sure you weren't in on the shattering of said mirror?" (Y/N) questioned with a grin as she came to a stop in front of Snotlout. The shorter boy's shoulders dropped as he tried to fight to string a sentence together to defend his honour. It only ended up causing a laugh to rise from (Y/N). "I was kidding, Snotlout. I totally believe it was just those two causing their normal ruckus."

"Good, because you know I would never stoop so low to join in or whatever it is those two get up to," Snotlout puffed out his chest as he said this, earning another huffed-out laugh from (Y/N) at his actions. "Now, about that face paint?"

The laughter slowly died down as the question was brought up for a second time. One of (Y/N)'s arms was raised as she wrapped it around the forearm of her other arm. Trying to let the boy off gently, she spoke softly, "I don't know, Snotlout. I haven't even started on Stardust or my own paint, so I don't think I have the time."

"It will only take a second, I promise," Snoutlout said as he tried to push the bowl of paint into (Y/N)'s hands.

But at the sound of a second horn (Y/N) shook her head and pushed the paint away from herself and back to Snoutlouts chest. "I'm sorry, Snoutlout, but I don't have time. How about if I finish myself and Stardust and still have time afterwards, I'll come back over and help y

The offer was a good one, and the best (Y/N) would be able to give as she could already hear the first group of Vikings arrive early for the race later. Snotlout seemed to ponder the offer, taking his time in weighing it out in his head before giving a single nod of his head. "But I want you coming straight back here once your done. No faffing around with Hiccup afterwards."

One of (Y/N)'s hands shot up to her forehead in a salute as she looked down at Snotlout. "Hearing you loud and clear, soldier."

(Y/N) could hear the huffing of Hookfang, along with some muttering from Snotlout, as she turned away from the flaming duo and tried, once more to get to her desired destination. This time she thought she'd finally be able to. She had gotten through nearly all the dragon riders, and Fishlegs wasn't one to socialise much before a big race, having some pre-race ritual he had to forgo. But as she started walking once more, a Gronckle-loving dragon rider attempted to get her attention.

"Ooh (Y/N)! (Y/N)," He called as he left Meatlug behind, the Gronckle happily snacking on some rocks. Fishlegs held a card in his hand as he made his way over to the (H/C) haired girl, a nervous grin on his face as he came over. (Y/N) came to a stop even though she was a little annoyed at being stopped for the fourth time. She tried to hide that annoyance as Fishlegs hadn't done anything wrong. "I stayed up late last night trying to finish this new card I made for Lightfury's. I thought we needed a newer version since we've found out so much more about Stardust and her species."

A smile fought its way onto (Y/N)'s face as she saw the carefully drawn Lightfury on the small trading card. (Y/N)'s eyes widened as she swore she could see every detail on the small picture that replicated her very own dragon. "Wow, Fishlegs, I don't know what to say. It looks amazing."

"This one's for you," Fishlegs quickly said, placing the card in (Y/N)'s hand before she could decline. "And before you say anything, I have a second one at home. I made this one just for you since I know you love everything and anything dragon related."

"Thanks, Fishlegs. I don't even know what to say," (Y/N) grinned as she stared at the small card before delicately placing it in a small pouch she had attached to her belt so it wouldn't get ruined while she was racing. As she thought about the race, she realised how much time she lost between getting to the arena late and having to talk to all the different dragon riders. "Good luck with the race, yeah?"

"I'll see you out there," Fishlegs concluded as they both turned away from each other.

This time, (Y/N) was finally able to get to where she needed to be.

"Hi, Hiccup," (Y/N) said as she trailed her fingers along the brunette's arm. The taller boy looked up at (Y/N), a soft smile on his face as he watched the girl dance around him. "And hi, Toothless. Red is such a good colour on you."

A gargling noise quickly erupted from Toothless' throat in his way of saying hello. Stardust was wrapped around the other dragon, head resting under his chin as she was careful not to smudge any of the red paint, mainly because she didn't want any of it getting onto her scales.

Before (Y/N) could take another step forward, she felt two arms wrap around her waist and pull her backwards. As she fell back into Hiccup's chest, a bubble of a laugh rose from her chest as she felt him pull her down to sit on his lap as he rested his head on her shoulder. At the action, Stardust let out a small growl. Her nose scrunched up as she threatened to take a step forward, the gentle coaxing from, Toothless stopping her from doing so.

“I was wondering when you were finally going to make your way over here,” Hiccup said as he rocked the both of them back, completely ignoring Stardust’s warning as he was already used to the untrusting behaviour on her part. He was sure he was slowly starting to get a breakthrough with the dragon. Having Toothless around certainly helped with that. “Once Stardust over there came bounding over, I knew it was only a matter of time before you would follow. I didn’t know it would take that long though.”

“All the other dragon riders seemed to want to keep me as far away and for as long as possible,” (Y/N) said as she wiggled out of Hiccups grips to the Viking's annoyance. She quickly turned around however and stood between his legs, forcing the Viking to look up at her from where he sat as he extended both of his arms so they could gently rest on her hips. “I’ve got a lot of time to make up for. So, if you could help me by painting Stardust with me, I’d appreciate it.”

At the mention of her name, Stardust stood and stalked a few steps away from Toothless, getting ready to be coated in paint. But when she heard her name in the same sentence as the Viking (Y/N) likes to keep around, her head shot around so she could watch Hiccup with a heated gaze.

“I’m not too sure Stardust likes the sound of that,” Hiccup said slowly. Rising from his seat, he followed after the shorter girl as she moved over to where three bowls of paint sat. Of course, there was the bowl of red paint that Hiccup had used for Toothless, but the other two bowls were left untouched.

“Nonsense. Stardust will stand still as you help me,” (Y/N) announced confidently as she picked up a bowl filled with light blue along with a sponge that sat near it. As she turned back around she sent Stardust a warning look, silently telling her to behave. “I want to do a sort of spiral along Stardust’s back where the colours intertwine with one another. But I don’t know what markings I want to do on her wings or face yet.”

Hiccup came up next to (Y/N), a step or two away from Stardust as he watched (Y/N) dip the sponge into the paint and slowly start to trail it along Stardust’s back. A soft purring began to emit from the Lightfury as (Y/N) worked her way down, her other hand gently trailing along with her. Hiccup took this as his chance to step up beside her now that she had gravitated further down Stardust’s body. At the sense of his presence, Stardust’s head whipped around while the rest of her body stayed eerily still.

“Easy girl,” Hiccup reassured gently as he raised a slightly shaking hand for Stardust to sniff. The dragon however scoffed a bunch of air out of her nose, the wind smacking against Hiccup’s hand as she turned away from him once more with a grumble. As if on cue, Toothless waddled over to them and stopped in front of Stardust to keep her busy while Hiccup worked.

When a hiccup got about halfway, (Y/N) left his side as she walked over to Stardust’s other side. Patting the white dragon on the edge of her wing, Stardust extended it for (Y/N)’s use. (Y/N) started to run the blue paint over the groves of Stardust's wings. As Hiccup walked over to help finish off the wing, he got a similar response to when he stepped up to her once more.

(Y/N) didn't pay too much mind to her, shushing her as Hiccup watched what she was doing. "I want this done on the other wing but in reversed colours. Also, can you fill these in with pink? And trace the back of her wing with it as well before you start on the other side with me?"

"Sure I can," Hiccup agreed, quickly doing what the (H/C) haired girl had asked him to. Again, (Y/N) was able to finish and move on to Stardust's other wing as Hiccup fought to catch up, trailing behind her as he copied her work. When Hiccup finished, he could see the girl crouched in front of Stardust's face while the dragon leant her face down low. Coming to a stop behind her, Hiccup saw the two bands of blue wrapped around Stardust's front legs while she now trailed some paint up her face. Looking at the close proximity between the two, Hiccup said, "I think you should finish Stardust off."

Once the final stroke of paint was drawn, (Y/N) turned back to smile at Hiccup. "Come on Hic, you know Stardust won't bite."

"That's the thing," Hiccup unwearily said as he cautiously stepped forward, an immediate response rising out of Stardust. (Y/N)'s head instantly whipped around at the noise emitting from her dragon. A light scowl was on her face, slowly making the rumbling calm down. "I'm not completely sure she won't."

(Y/N) took a second to think over what she was going to do before she reached a hand back for Hiccup to take, waiting patiently until she felt the steady weight of it. At the contact she pulled him forward, the light ring of his metal foot hitting against the stone floor as (Y/N) pulled him to crouch down next to her. Stardust's face twisted at the sight of the other dragon rider but tried to stand still as (Y/N) was still crouched in front of her.

Grabbing onto Hiccup's other hand, the one that had the bowl and sponge held in it, she pulled it forward before making another grab for his previous hand. Together they dipped the sponge in the paint before trailing it along Stardust's front legs, having two rings on each alternating leg. Since (Y/N) was doing most of the work, Stardust couldn't find it in herself to try and scare them off. She still however made her annoyance known as she glared at Hiccup, the boy only being able to give her a throaty chuckle in response.

As they moved onto Stardust's face, (Y/N)'s hold on Hiccup's hand loosened, giving him the chance to back away if he wanted. But the boy's hand stayed where it was, trying not to seem too keen to get closer. As the sponge dipped back into the paint before moving up to the Lightfury's face, Stardust slowly closed her eyes, allowing the paint to trail across her face. Hiccup could feel a smile slowly starting to etch across his face. Never before had he been able to get this close to the Lightfury with Stardust's willingness. Even if there wasn't much of it right now.

"All done," (Y/N) happily cheered as she pulled Hiccup's hand away from Stardust's face. The dragon's eyes instantly shot open, a smile starting to stretch across her face as she turned to find Toothless to show off the finished work. (Y/N) watched happily as the dragon bounced over to Toothless, spreading her wings as she pranced around Toothless, forcing him to turn to follow her as he showed one of his famous toothless smiles.

"Now it's time for something more important," Hiccup said as he stood. Balancing the paint in one hand, he pulled (Y/N) to her feet before tugging her slightly closer.

"What could be more important than painting Stardust?" (Y/N) questioned, smiling softly up at Hiccup as she waited to see what he might do.

"This," He said as he dipped his thumb into the pink paint and brought his hand up to (Y/N)'s cheek. He waited half a second before running his pink-coated thumb across her cheekbone, making sure he curled the paint up the higher he got. A laugh rang out of (Y/N) as she pinched close one of her eyes when Hiccup ran his thumb underneath it. Once he was done with that half of (Y/N)'s face he wiped his thumb into the palm of his hand, trying to get rid of as much of it as possible before he bent down to place his bowl down and pick up the one (Y/N) had put down earlier. "Nearly done."

"You have to let me do your paint after this," (Y/N) demanded with a grin, leaning forward as she bounced forward on her toes.

"Absolutely not." Hiccup was careful not to mess up the swirls he was painting onto the girl's face. "What I want is simple and I can do it myself. Plus, I know you're going to try and add something to the design if I don't keep a close eye on you."

"Alright," (Y/N) said as a hum in return. She stood still as she waited for Hiccup to finish. "Here, I'll take the paint back over."

At the offer, Hiccup handed the bowl of light blue over, watching as (Y/N) turned to get the pink bowl off the floor before walking over to the table it had originally rested on. Dipping a thumb into the blue paint, she let it coat her thumb before grabbing the bowl of red paint for Hiccup and bringing it over for him. "Thank you, (Y/N)."

"No problem, my love," (Y/N) said as the bowl was handed over. Hiccup's eyes flashed up at her, trying to hide a smile as he dipped his pointer and middle finger into the paint. While Hiccup was distracted by his own paint, (Y/N) reached her thumb up and smeared the blue paint she had gotten on it across her lips until they were completely covered in blue. Hiding her face by knocking her head down, (Y/N) circled Hiccup until she stood behind the dragon rider. Wrapping both of her arms around the taller boy's waist, she rested her chin on Hiccup's shoulder like he had done to her earlier. As Hiccup dipped his two fingers into the paint again so he could drag them along his face, (Y/N) lept forward and placed a small kiss on the boy's jaw.

"What was that for?" Hiccup asked as he lifted his hand up to draw on the paint, ignoring the sensation of the paint (Y/N) had left behind.

"Nothing," (Y/N) grinned, hiding it behind Hiccup's head as she moved to his other side before placing a longer, drawn-out kiss on his cheek. The blue paint wasn't as vibrate as the first kiss but still was a clear outline of her lips. "Am I not allowed to kiss my boyfriend?"

"I never said that," Hiccup said as he twisted in (Y/N)'s arms. His eyes locked on the colour of (Y/N)'s lips too late as he had already dived forward to catch her lips with his own. (Y/N) smiled at the sensation, keeping her arms tightly wrapped around Hiccup's midsection while the boy's brows pinched together. His tongue edged forward, waiting for (Y/N) to part her lips when the taste hit him quickly. Just as (Y/N) was about to grant him entrance, Hiccup pulled back, staring confusedly down at (Y/N)'s lips. "Why is there paint on your lips?"

"No reason," (Y/N) quickly said, feigning nonchalance. Maybe she spoke too quickly or should have been quicker since when she surged forward to try and leave another kiss mark on Hiccup's face, the boy planted both hands on (Y/N)'s shoulders, a groan leaving his now blue-coated lips as he hung his head onto (Y/N)'s shoulders.

"Please don't tell me your blue kisses are all over my face." (Y/N) didn't respond, causing another groan to rise from Hiccup as he lifted his head again, scowling lightly at the shorter girl when all she could do was smile. "You know what?"

"What?" (Y/N) asked, her brows furrowing at the lack of reaction from Hiccup. Once she saw Hiccup's thumb dip into his red paint, her eyes widened at what she knew was coming her way. Dropping her hands from Hiccup's side, she tried to wiggle back and out of his grip.

"No, you don't," Hiccup quickly exclaimed as the bowl of red paint dropped from his hand and spilled across the stone floor. Not to matter though since Hiccup's lips were already coated red. (Y/N) tried to fight Hiccup's arms off her as she backed away with a laugh. Hiccup's arms shot out and tightly secured themselves around (Y/N), trapping her arms to her side in the process. (Y/N) tried to lean back as far as possible but Hiccup only followed after her. Leaning up and forward, Hiccup placed a large kiss on (Y/N)'s forehead, marvelling at the red that was left behind. "There. Now we match."

(Y/N) pretended to be annoyed as she felt Hiccup's arms loosen around her. She wasn't doing a very good job at hiding her true emotions as a large smile blossomed across her face. At that moment, (Y/N) didn't have to worry about anything. Certainly not about the betting that was going on above her.

“My money’s on Snotlout,” Spitelout said as he stood neck to Stoick. Spitelout was looking down at his son as he pointed an all-knowing finger towards him.

“You sure he ain’t gonna throw it all away again?” Gobber asked from the other side of their chief as he scratched his beard with his fake wooden hand, looking down at Snotlout with a less then keen eye.

Spitelout flashed Gobber a glare, both of his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he said, “I’m sure he has it this time around.”

"What about you Stoick?" Gobber asked, turning Spitelout's glare away from him as they both turned their attention to the man sitting down. "Who have you got your eyes on for today's race?"

Stoick didn't even need to think about his answer as he brought a large hand to rub against his chin while saying with a bellowing voice, "My golds going towards my daughter-in-law."

"Oh? Hiccup's popped the big question?" Gobber asked he turned back to look at the pair still wrapped in each other's arms. He could see the splatter of paint they had been leaving on each other's faces, but Gobber was more than content to let them stay in their own little bubble for a bit longer.

Stoick's face pulled downwards at the question. In a grumbled-out response, he said, "Not yet."

"If that boy doesn't hurry up, she's going to do it for him," Spitelout stated, getting silent agreement from the Vikings he was conversing with."Now, back to business. Not putting your gold on Hiccup, eh?"

"Not today, no," Stoick shook his head. "(Y/N) and her dragon have been looking promising recently."

"We'll see if your judgement has grown clouded soon enough," Spitelout teased, grinning as he heard the final horn ring out. Some of the dragon riders got on their dragons as soon as possible, flying up to where they stood on their baskets, waiting for the race to begin. "Normal amount?"

"Hm? Sure," Stoick absentmindedly said as he stood from his seat and walked a few steps forward, gaining the silence from the crowded arena stands. The silence urged the remaining dragon riders to mount their dragons and get to their starting positions. "Vikings and dragon riders, today we join for the first race of the year. On the Gronckle we have Fishlegs, the Monstrous Nightmare being flown by Snotlout-"

Stoick was cut off by a loud cheer from Spitelout, the man yelling, "That's my boy!"

"Yes, thank you for that wonderful display Spitelout," Stoick deadpanned as he turned briefly to face the other Viking as he calmed himself down. "The twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut of the Hideous Zippleback, Astrid on the Deadly Nadder, and my son of the Nightfury."

Stoick paused as he got to (Y/N)'s part, drawing the crowd into suspense. "And on the Lightfury we have my hopefully soon to be daughter in law, (Y/N)!"

(Y/N) turned and grinned at the Viking chief, her face light and full of joy as she laughed along with the other Vikings watching from the arena stands as Hiccup gave off a slightly sheepish smile. At his smile, Gobber banged his wooden hand on the arena's railing before pointing accusingly at Hiccup and saying, "We see you, Hiccup and we're all waitin' for that question to be answered."

"Moving on," Stoick yelled as Hiccup threw his hands in exasperation. "I hear now begin the first dragon race of the year! Release the sheep!"

Once the horn rang out, all six dragons took off. At first, it was a battle of speed as they all raced straight up before breaking away from each other so they could scower Berk for any of the painted sheep they needed to win this. There were twelve sheep that they needed to find before the black sheep worth ten points would be shot to the sky.

As (Y/N) guided Stardust a bit closer to the huts when she noticed another fury trailing behind her. Looking over her shoulder with a grin, she saw Hiccup flying not too far behind them, the paint from earlier still smeared across his face and lips. "Love that colour on you. Is it maroon?"

"Oh, laugh all you want," Hiccup waved her off as he leaned forward on Toothless's back a bit more, his hands tightening on the saddle as Toothless tried to speed up.

(Y/N)'s head quickly turned back around, copying Hiccup's movements as she leaned down to Stardust's ears. "Come on girl, it's time to disappear."

Stardust let out a soft mew at (Y/N)'s words. Spreading her wings wide, speeding up as much as possible in the time to heat up a plasma blast in her mouth. Without warning her wings shot inwards towards her body as she turned into a nosedive. As the shot rang out, (Y/N) buried herself as close to Stardust's body as possible. As the both of them dived through the blast, the same cloaking that took over Stardust danced across (Y/N) and the few white scales she had woven into her clothes.

"Whoo!" (Y/N) yelled as they vanished without a trace, the only lingering part of them being her voice. It took a while for (Y/N) to spot her first sheep, the fluffy animal trying to hide under the hut of some Viking. But when both her and Stardust's eyes landed on it, they changed paths without a thought and swooped down. Twisting her body so (Y/N) sat upside down on her back, Stardust flew upside down so (Y/N) could hang down and pick the sheep up from where it lay. Pulling the sheep to her chest, Stardust helped to right them up as they burst back into the sky.

To everyone else, it looked like a sheep had somehow been granted the ability to fly but those who truly knew could just see the ripple in the air as (Y/N) and Stardust tore through the air.

Taking a sharp turn, the two of them with their extra passenger dived back towards the training arena, careful to keep out of sight of any other dragon riders. As they swooped in, the crowd cheered as they faded back into view to drop the sheep into the Lightfury's basket. Taking a quick look at the other baskets, (Y/N) could see that Astrid already had two sheep while Hiccup had three, meaning there were only six more sheep to find before the black sheep was released.

Pulling back on Stardust's saddle, the whistle that commonly was handed to the Nightfury rang out, filling the air as she shot away from the arena. The two of them didn't have time to waste as Stardust looked out for any stray sheep while (Y/N) looked for any dragon riders in the air with sheep.

As her eyes landed on Berk's Nightfury, a grin spread across her face. "Stardust, we need to go after Toothless. Make sure he doesn't see us coming."

Stardust shot out another plasma shot, cloaking them as Toothless looked back as the noise echoed. The dragon's eyes narrowed as it searched for Stardust but eventually had to look away when nothing turned up. Hovering above him though was Stardust as (Y/N) began to climb from her back. (Y/N) kept a hand situated on the saddle as she got ready to drop. Her feet touched down on the leathery back of Toothless, a confused yelp escaping him as his head shot back once again. As the feeling began to climb along his back, he tried to hiss out a warning to Hiccup.

"I'll be taking that," (Y/N) yelled as she tore the sheep from Hiccup's hands before launching herself off and over Toothless's head. Toothless gargled as (Y/N) went falling off of him, diving through thin air as she waited for Stardust to catch her. She continued to fall for a few seconds before she saw a floating sheep hurtling towards her in the claws of Stardust as she faded back into existence once more. (Y/N) landed on Stardust's back harshly, her bones rattling as one of her hands unlatched from the sheep to grab onto Stardust as she turned to the arena, a Nightfury on her tail.

"I'm going to need that back, (Y/N)," Hiccup called as he tried to keep up with (Y/N) and her Lightfury. Adjusting his metal foot, Toothless's tail changed directions, giving them a gust of speed. The soft grunts of a Monstrous Nightmare behind him were slightly startling with how close Snotlout and Hookfang were to catch up to them. Stating his thoughts, Hiccup said, "We can't let that happen, bud."

Toothless made his agreement known as he flapped his wings once, shooting away from Snotlout as they grew closer to Stardust. But no matter what they seemed to do, Stardust had an impossible lead on them. So there was no stopping it when Hiccup watched as both sheep were dropped into the Lightfury's basket. Hiccup and her were now tied. Astrid still had two but the twins had been able to score themself a sheep of their own. Nine sheep found, three to go.

(Y/N) and Stardust shot up once more, hoping to make one final round before the black sheep could be found. They didn't bother to vanish again, shooting through the sky as they tried to find more sheep. It was when a commotion could be heard above them. Meatlug had a sheep clutched in her claws while Stormfly and Barf and Belch tried to herd the sheep towards them. Fishlegs was panicking from atop the Gronckle, a perfect opportunity for (Y/N) to steal it.

Barf and Belch slammed into the side of Meatug, making the Gronckke growl as the sheep was dropped from her to retrieve the fallen sheep already gone after it. Stormfly was close to grabbing it within her claws when Stardust shot forward, sweeping the sheep from the air as she spiraleD up. “You’re going to have to be quicker than that if you want to win this!”

"Stormfly fetch!" Astrid yelled and the excited growl that erupted from Stormfly was anything to go by, (Y/N) was going to be in trouble.

"Fly Stardust, fly," (Y/N) screeched as the Deadly Nadder's eyes locked onto the both of them. Stardust's head shook as she shot forward, taking sharp turns to try and lose Stormfly as they were chased down. (Y/N)'s eyes landed on the last two remaining sheep. Patting on Stardust's neck, the Lightfury's eyes also landed on where (Y/N) was looking. "This is going to be a close one."

Dropping down, Stardust got all of her claws ready, planning on holding one sheep in each pair. As they reached the sheep, Stadust's front claws were able to score the first sheep but as she started to lift, her black claws pointing out to latch onto the sheep's fur, something snatched it out from under her. "I think it's only fair that I get this one after what happened earlier."

It was Hiccup. Both Stardust and (Y/N) were left slightly dumbfounded as they followed after the Nightfury. The others had caught onto their catchings and were trailing after them, making a train of dragons and dragon riders. As Hiccup threw his sheep down, followed by (Y/N) and her two, a final horn rang out, signalling the black sheep as the scores rested five to (Y/N), Hiccup at four, Astrid at two and the twins at one. Whoever grabbed this sheep would seal the victory.

"It's just one more sheep, Stardust," (Y/N) whispered to her dragon, the two of them shooting away from the arena along with all the other dragon riders. (Y/N) could hear them also muttering encouragements to their dragons. "We've come far enough to win this all."

As she spoke, she heard the launch of the sheep, the subtle clank of the chains smacking against wood as the black sheep went flying. It was a fight of flames and talons as all eyes locked onto the black sheep. It was a certain Nightfury that was able to shoot forward and steal the sheep into his clutches. That's when the chase broke out again.

Toothless had an advantage with speed, taking a small lead as Stormfly and Stardust were close behind. Both dragons were trying to shoot forward in front of the other, the riders on their back yelling jeers at each other as their dragons did the work. It was only when Stardust was able to push herself forward in a burst of speed that Astrid let out a frustrated yell. "He's right there Stardust. It's now or never."

As her agreement Stardust flew under Toothless, getting close enough that (Y/N) could reach up and snatch the Blacksheep from his claws, earning a snap from the dragon. "Right, let's go."

As they lowered themselves even further, Stardust let out a roar as they flew. The arena could be seen coming up, crowds of Vikings hitting each other and jumping up to see who had the black sheep as they all rode in.

It didn't stop there though. As they began to dip into the arena, Snotlout came hurtling around from the other side of the arena, an axe in hand as he tried to swing it toward (Y/N)'s head. Stardust already acted as (Y/N) yelled, "Dive, dive, dive!"

Nearly falling from Stardust's back because of the lost grip she had, a not-very Viking-sounding squeak as she fought to grip onto Stardust's saddle. Stardust rumbled from below her as she knocked her tail up, bumping (Y/N) further up her saddle as she swung around the arena, weaving in and out from the different dragons as they tried to steal what was theirs.

As the black sheep made contact with the Lightfury's basket, the sheep getting squashed in with the other ones, a ripple broke out through the stadium as the race ended.

"Yes," (Y/N) yelled as she threw both her arms out, Stardust throwing her own call to the wind as they sailed across the arena perimeter, close enough to the stands that some of the Vikings could read out and congratulate her.

"That's my girl," (Y/N) heard the yell from Hiccup as he flew up next to her, the tips of Toothless and Stardust's wings overlapping. "I almost thought I'd be able to win one over you."

"That is where you must have gone wrong," (Y/N) called back before Stardust was steering her to Stoick's seat, the man waiting happily with a grumbling Spitelout not too far away from him. "Have I won you enough gold, Stoick?"

His booming laugh shot around. "You have this time."

"Placing bets again Dad?" Hiccup questioned as he fell from Toothless's saddle, climbing over to (Y/N) where he pulled her from Stardust's saddle and placed a kiss on the side of her head.

"Of course I was Hiccup," Stoick said as he watched the two. "Picked the right dragon as well."

Turning around to face Hiccup, (Y/N) grinned up at him. "You want to go on another race?"

[kingofbodyrolls]

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | one

🐴Chapter summary: You arrive back at the ranch, a place you used to call home as a child. But it doesn’t hold the same meaning anymore. With the passing of your mother, you stand to inherit part of that very ranch– and you don’t want it. Only problem, your sister doesn’t want to give you her signature for you to sell your share. 🐴Chapter title: Inheritance 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: mention of past character death of parents, exhibitionism, explicit smut in the form of protected sex, quick and dirty sex, doing it against a barn, creampie, nipple play, clit play. Doing it in public / outside. Mention of past infidelity (of parents). Spoiler ahead!!! Jungkook and Jimin are (half) brothers and reader sleeping with JK is necessary to happen for the sake of the plot 🥲 It sucked to write that part, and if you feel like the smut if ‘eh’ it’s because it was written that way because reader isn’t meant to be with JK! So, please, don’t let that discourage you from reading it, the rest of the story is really good and MC realizes she’s made a mistake… anyway the smut with Jimin when it eventually happen, is just 🥵🥵🥵 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 8.2k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog @kiki-zb @babejinnie @ownthesunshine @allie-is-a-panda @glllhjh @bergandysam @13-manggaetteok

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “Theme from McLeod’s Daughters” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: this story has been in my head forever, and I’ve spent months outlining it and planning it– so I’m so stoked to finally post it! 🥳 I love both McLeod’s Daughters and BTS, so why not combine it?? I am not sure anybody will read this story, but if you do, thank you! It truly means the world to me. 

I also want to give a very big thank you and shout out to my dear friend, Lua, for reading it while I worked on it, hyping me up and giving me such fucking wonderful feedback 😭✨ Thank you so much @letjungcoook7 💖🥹

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next →

“I said, I wanna touch the earth I wanna break it in my hands I wanna grow something wild and unruly I wanna sleep on the hard ground In the comfort of your arms On a pillow of bluebonnets In a blanket made of stars Oh, it sounds good to me I said, cowboy take me away Fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue Set me free, oh, I pray” - “Cowboy Take Me Away” by The Chicks

The tires of your car dig into the unforgiving dirt road with a tenacious grip as you navigate the rugged terrain. A symphony of sand and dust dances before the windshield, yet your focus remains unyielding. The landscape is open and inviting, yet there’s tall mountains in the distance framing the idyllic nature. 

The pulsating beat of the music reverberates through the vehicle, echoing the determination coursing through your veins. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, your resolve unshakable. 

Amidst the chaotic whirlwind outside, you're on a singular quest: to get your sister’s signature to sell your share of the ranch.

You yearn to sever all ties with the place. 

It's not a matter of hatred, per se, but rather an aversion steeped in memories you'd rather forget. 

The grounds echo with a tapestry of recollections, most of which cling like shadows to the recesses of your mind—a gallery of moments you're desperate to erase from the canvas of your past.

The passing of your mother, a woman absent from your life for over two decades, casts a melancholic hue over this reunion, that leaves much to be desired.

Separated by the passage of years, your sister remains a distant specter on the horizon of your past. A chapter of familial connection was abruptly closed when your father took you away from the ranch during your formative years, the sprawling fields replaced by the relentless rhythm of the city. 

The city, with its towering structures and ceaseless energy, has woven itself into the fabric of your existence. Amidst the hustle, the stress, the eclectic cafes, and the teeming crowds, you've found a peculiar treasure trove of experiences that pulse through your veins like a vibrant heartbeat. The city's flaws, laid bare like urban scars, only deepen your affection for its complex tapestry, making each chaotic street corner and neon-lit club a cherished fragment in the mosaic of your life.

As an undesired song infiltrates your playlist, you find yourself questioning its very existence on your curated soundtrack. 

Swiftly, you dismiss its intrusion, replacing its notes with the growling intensity of a much angrier anthem. 

The need for focus on this mission is paramount, an unyielding commitment that not even the persuasive tones of Jessi, with all her influence, can sway or alter.

A familiar sign with your family’s last name emerges on the horizon, unleashing a flood of memories from an idyllic childhood—filled with the echoes of hide-and-seek, the warmth of love, and the harmonious symphony of laughter—that paints both your irises and your heart in hues of nostalgia. 

Yet, as your fingers instinctively clench around the steering wheel, you staunchly refuse to be swayed by the emotional undertow. Determination courses through your veins, a steadfast resolve not to let sentiment cloud the clarity of your purpose.

With a resolute spirit, you navigate the winding road that leads to the ranch. 

As the familiar landscape unfurls before you, a creeping uneasiness takes root within the recesses of your being. Despite the passage of two decades, the ranch appears frozen in time, an unchanged picture that sends shivers down your spine. The unsettling familiarity of the place only amplifies the weight of the past, casting a shadow over your determined journey back to a place that seems to have resisted the relentless march of time.

Bringing the car to a halt before the imposing main house, you silence the engine with a decisive twist of the key. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, mingling with the weight of anticipation that hangs in the air. Inhaling deeply, you draw in the essence of the moment, your fingers betraying a nervous rhythm as they tap anxiously against the steering wheel. 

The stillness belies the turmoil surging within, as you ready yourself to encounter the ghost of your past.

A mere thirty minutes— an hour at most, and you'll resume your journey on the open road, bound for the comfort of home in the city. 

Determination courses through your veins, intertwining with the staccato rhythm of your anxious heartbeat, the pulsations reverberating so forcefully that you can sense them echoing all the way to the depths of your ears. 

The moment your car door swings open, a subtle shift in the wind whispers a tale of transformation. The landscape may echo familiarity, but an intangible alteration lingers in the air, an elusive metamorphosis that leaves you questioning the very essence of this place. Is it a mere illusion, or has something truly shifted, perhaps within the confines of your own soul? 

Navigating the uneven terrain in heels proves to be a challenge, but undeterred, you conquer the dirt road and arrive at the tall front door. It stands before you, a sentinel of memories, somehow appearing taller than in recollection. The weathered, dark-red wooden door remains stoically unchanged, a silent witness to the passage of time. 

Two deliberate knocks break the stillness, and you retreat a step, a reverberation of anticipation coursing through the air as you stand on the threshold of both the past and the unknown.

The door frame, once pristine in its white coat, now bears the scars of time, its paint chipped and revealing glimpses of the weathered wood beneath. 

Stationed in front of the door, you endure a suspenseful five minutes, an eternity compressed into every passing second, yet the silence remains unbroken. Undeterred by the absence of response, a resolute determination guides your actions as you seize the handle. With a deliberate press, the handle yields, surrendering to your resolve and releasing a cacophony of creaks—a symphony of protesting hinges announcing your entrance into the realm of memories.

“Hello?” 

Your voice, tinged with uncertainty, dances into the air as you cautiously poke your head through the threshold, a hesitant entry into the familiar realms of the house. 

A gentle warmth envelops you, tenderly kissing your skin and infusing an instant sense of calm. The scent, aged and rich, swirls around you like a tangible embrace of wood and cherished memories from your childhood. The hallway stretches out before you, adorned with snapshots frozen in time—images of you and Jessi playing in the fields, your first pony, and a cherished trio with your mom. Each picture pulses with the erratic beat of your heart, echoing the palpable journey down the corridor of reminiscence. Amidst this gallery of the past, you navigate the tapestry of nostalgia, your destination set on what memory deems to be the kitchen.

The staccato clank of your heels resonates boldly against the unpolished hardwood floor, a deliberate announcement of your presence that reverberates through the silent expanse as you press deeper into the heart of the kitchen. Despite the resounding echo, a mysterious absence lingers, the emptiness amplifying the solitude within the room, a poignant contrast to the persistent cadence of your steps.

Surveying the scene, your eyes capture the delicate dance of white curtains adorned with lace, their elegance offering a stark contrast to the weathered state of the kitchen. Time has etched its story on the cabinets, pleading for a rejuvenating touch—perhaps a cleansing and a new coat of color to breathe life into the tired, faded cream. A wistful smile graces your lips, an emotive response to the tactile connection forged as your fingers trace the countertop. The surface, a touch dusty yet evocative, sparks an odd familiarity, transporting you to a realm of forgotten times and the comforting essence of what was once home.

A sudden voice startles you from your reverie, its unexpected presence slicing through the air like a well-timed interruption in the symphony of memories. 

“Can I help you?”

A jolt courses through your body, a startled response to the abrupt intrusion of the voice, yet you pivot on your heels, meeting the owner of the enigmatic, yet somehow airy, tones. 

In the face of the unexpected presence, you lock eyes with the source, a meeting that feels like a convergence of past and present, each heartbeat resonating with the electric charge surging through your body.

A nervous chuckle escapes you, the residue of your earlier determination dissipating in the charged air as you assess the man standing before you. 

His eyes, a deep and authoritative brown, lock onto yours, unraveling a silent narrative in their depths. Blonde and untamed, his long hair falls with a disheveled grace, framing a face that exudes both strength and mystery. His slender physique conceals well-defined, lean muscles beneath the snug embrace of a gray shirt, each contour subtly hinting at the strength within. Clad in blue denim jeans with artful rips at the bottom, and adorned with chunky western boots boasting intricate ornaments, he carries an aura of rugged elegance. 

“Can I help you?” he repeats, the query hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge. 

Crossing his arms over a torso that amplifies the definition of his biceps, his deliberate posture commands attention, drawing your gaze to the undeniable display of strength.

“I’m so sorry,” you quip nervously, a hint of self-awareness coloring your tone. Inwardly, you curse the fact that you were caught in the act of checking him out, and you’ve yet to acknowledge the man properly. “I’m looking for Jessi?”

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes the man, accompanied by a soft smile that carries a subtle mystique, rendering his eyes nearly elusive. 

“Who are you?” he inquires, his arms still defiantly crossed, and a flicker of realization dawns upon you—this interaction holds a peculiar tension. The awareness sets in that, in essence, you are an intruder, a stranger trespassing into the intimate space of a home that isn’t yours anymore. 

“I'm Jessi's sister,” you declare, a succinct introduction that hangs in the air. His response is a simple “Oh,” a word that resonates with a spectrum of unspoken sentiments. 

As his arms fall to his sides, his posture eases into a more relaxed stance, and his gaze, now unhindered by the barricade of crossed arms, traverses the contours of your figure. Your choice of attire—heels and a summer dress that daringly grazes your thighs—doesn't escape his notice. 

You sense his eyes lingering on your exposed legs for a beat longer than societal norms might deem appropriate.

You find yourself unapologetically appreciating his attractiveness, recognizing the allure that binds both of you in a silent dance of mutual fascination.

“You don't remember me?” 

His question pierces through the air, catching you off guard, and instinctively, you lean back against the countertop. A subtle shake of your head accompanies the inquiry, and as you witness a shadow of sadness flicker across his eyes, an unexpected weight sinks into the chambers of your heart. The unspoken question lingers—should you know this man?

“It's me, Jimin,” he asserts with a voice steeped in pride and certainty, a declaration that sets your mind into a whirlwind of attempted recollection. His name resonates with a familiarity that dances on the periphery of your memory, like an elusive wisp slipping through the cracks of forgotten moments. 

“Park?” 

You question with a voice that wavers in uncertainty, the mere utterance of the name carrying the weight of a fragile hope. As the word escapes your lips, you cling to the fragile threads of memory, desperately seeking confirmation that you've pieced together the puzzle of identity correctly.

“Yeah! Don't you remember? We played together when we were kids,” he chuckles warmly, the nostalgia of shared memories evident in his eyes.  

With a warm gesture, he invites you to take a seat, a silent acknowledgment of the intricacies of your shared history. As he crosses the room to the sink, a subtle limp marks his stride—a detail you keenly observe as you pull out a chair. Your curiosity about his altered gait tugs at your thoughts, begging for expression, yet you restrain the impulse, deeming it too forward. Silently, you observe him reaching for a glass from the overhead cabinet, pouring water with a practiced ease. 

“Here you go,” he offers, placing the glass before you. As you take it, your fingers brush momentarily, and an unexpected electric jolt courses through your body. You respond with a sheepish smile, expressing gratitude for the simple gesture. “Jessi is out riding; she'll be back soon.” 

You nod, the cool touch of the glass against your lips serving as a momentary distraction from the impending wait. As you take a measured sip of water, the realization sinks in — a quiet acknowledgment that the road back home may stretch longer than initially anticipated.

“I'm sorry about your mom,” he offers his condolences, and a palpable pain reflects in his eyes. The depth of his empathy hints at a connection with your mother that might surpass your own or perhaps, he carries the weight of loss in his own experiences. Regardless, you express gratitude, but as you do, a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders accompanies your words. “It's whatever,” you say, attempting to downplay the complexity of emotions that linger beneath the surface, yet the weight of grief echoes in the unspoken spaces between you.

He offers a minuscule smile, a mere flicker that fails to reach the depths of his eyes, and a subtle shift in the atmosphere becomes palpable. A quiet tension weaves through the kitchen, the air thickening with unspoken complexities. It's as if the very walls themselves have become sentient, closing in with a slow and deliberate intent, creating an immersive sense of confinement that mirrors the unexplored territories of emotions lingering between you and Jimin.

The rhythmic clank of boots announces her arrival before she materializes in the doorway — Jessi, a force of raw determination, a cascade of muttered curse words trailing in her wake. 

With an aura of purpose, she strides into the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy that disrupts the tension-laden air.

“Aren't you supposed to be working?” she demands, a subtle undercurrent of anger weaving through her voice as her gaze fixes on Jimin. 

You sense that you've slipped beneath her radar for now. Jimin responds with a casual chuckle, turning his head in your direction. In that moment, you feel the weight of her steel gaze bore into you.

You observe the subtle tensing of her body, her gaze meticulously scrutinizing every inch of you. Arms crossed defensively, she acknowledges your presence with a guarded stance. 

“Long time no see. What do you want?” The words, delivered with an edge that slices through the air, reverberate with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, embodying the complex web of emotions that intertwine your shared history.

Your lips involuntarily tighten, the already tense atmosphere escalating to an almost suffocating degree as Jessi's presence intensifies. A rhythmic tapping of her foot reverberates through the room, an erratic metronome that hints at a cocktail of emotions—perhaps nervousness, perhaps anger, the fine line between the two eluding your understanding. 

“The inheritance,” you utter, and a visible transformation sweeps over Jessi. Her countenance, already frosty, plunges into an even colder abyss. The pallor that washes over her skin accentuates the darkness of her brown, curly hair, transforming it into a cascade that seems to absorb the shadows of her perturbed soul.

A nervous gulp echoes in the charged silence, your attempt to fortify a wavering resolve. The mission is clear — secure her signature, liberate yourself, and sever the lingering ties. The weight of unspoken history and familial complexities hangs in the air, urging you to complete this fraught encounter, hoping that once the ink meets the paper, you’ll leave and never bother her again.

“I want to sell my share of the ranch. I just need your signature.”

The declaration hangs in the charged air, a revelation that sends a ripple through the room. Jimin tenses visibly, gaping in clear surprise at your bold proclamation. Your sister, on the other hand, is barely faring any better. The undercurrents of anger surge to the surface, a tempest of emotions that bobs precariously, threatening to breach the veneer of composure that barely holds. 

She hisses, the sound cutting through the charged silence like a serpent's warning, and grinds her teeth together with a simmering intensity. “You're not getting that,” she declares with a venomous resolve, the words laced with an unmistakable determination that resonates with the unyielding clash of wills in the room. 

The sternness and anger in her voice reverberate through the room, creating an invisible barrier. Undeterred, you summon a quiet resolve and press forward, attempting to cut through the emotional tempest that surrounds her. “I just need your signature, and then I can go,” your words, a delicate plea amidst the tumultuous clash of emotions, hang in the air, a fragile bridge between the chasm of familial discord and the resolution you seek.

She strides purposefully towards you, anger etching furrows into her brows. Coming to a halt just before your seated form, she looms over you with a fiery intensity in her eyes. 

“No. Get the fuck out,” she commands, the force behind her words reverberating in the charged space between you. The air crackles with the energy of unresolved conflicts, and her words hang in the air like a proclamation, leaving no room for negotiation.

Jimin's expression no longer holds surprise, his features now marked by a disapproving shake of his head. As Jessi retreats from you, turning with a storm brewing in her wake, the kitchen becomes an echoing chamber of unresolved tensions. She storms out, leaving you and Jimin in the wake of her departure, the remnants of conflict lingering in the air like an unspoken presence that refuses to dissipate. 

You clench your hands into tight fists, the physical manifestation of the internal turmoil that courses through you. The realization dawns, like a belated epiphany, that her vehement reaction was all but predictable. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, and you slump back into the chair, the weight of disappointment settling upon you like a shroud. This isn't unfolding as you had envisioned.

The wind whips through, mercilessly tossing your hair into a chaotic dance across your face. Grumbling, you navigate the exterior of the main house, entering a realm where nature and grandeur coalesce. The yard unfolds before you, a testament to meticulous care, stretching expansively with paddocks extending for miles. To the left, a substantial stable stands as a regal sentinel, while to the right, three cottages punctuate the landscape.

Your gaze sweeps across the panoramic expanse, capturing the undulating beauty of the paddocks that cascade over the hills while the sun slowly sets. Cows and horses graze lazily, mere dots in the vast canvas of the countryside. The scene unfolds before you like a living painting, each blade of grass, each creature contributing to the symphony of nature. Amidst this serene image, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of contemplation, pondering the labyrinth of decisions that now lay before you.

Jessi won’t give you her signature, and you need her damn ink on that paper to be able to sell your share of the ranch.

Maybe if you get on her good side, she’ll reconsider? It’s worth a try at least.

“Hi,” a lilting female voice disrupts the current of your thoughts, a melodic intrusion that yanks you back from the recesses of contemplation. Your pivot is swift, attention now redirected to the stranger who has materialized behind you.

Her hand extends gracefully towards you, a gesture that transcends the usual formalities. “I'm Soo-ah, one of the stable hands here,” she introduces herself with an easy confidence, her words resonating with a sense of belonging and familiarity within the expansive realm of the ranch.

“Ah, hi,” you muse with a soft smile, extending a handshake that bridges the gap between stranger and newfound acquaintance. Her stature is modest, a curvature of curves, with a disarming smile that reveals a charming imperfection in the form of endearing crooked teeth. Clad in short denim shorts adorned with delicate white lace on the trim and a pink tank top, she exudes an aura of comfort and warmth. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of blue, gleam with a radiance that speaks of love and hope, amplified by the contrast against her sun-kissed tan skin.

“Your trip didn't go according to plan?” she inquires, the gentle cadence of her question accompanied by the sweep of a hand, gracefully gathering her long blonde hair away from her face. 

A chuckle escapes you, accompanied by a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, as you confess, “Not really.”

“You know, this place means a lot to Jessi. It's her home. She wouldn't want you to sell your share for some random people to buy it or worse, use the land for housing or something.” Her eyes mirror the softness of her words, and a gentle smile graces her lips, a gesture that carries an unexpected soothing effect on your conflicted heart. 

The weight of her words settles on your conscience, a realization you had secretly dreaded. You grasp the depth of your sister's emotional connection to this land, an affection you once shared but have since outgrown. The prospect of selling your share, allowing strangers to lay claim to the cherished homestead, unfolds before you, and you acknowledge why Jessi vehemently opposes it. Yet, your heart remains indifferent to the sentimental ties that bind others to this place. It ceased being home long ago, and the notion of it ever regaining that status in your life appears as elusive as a distant memory fading into the horizon.

“Say what. It's late, and dinner's almost ready. Why don't you come eat with us and meet the rest of the gang? After that, I'll show you one of the guest rooms!” Her invitation resonates with a contagious enthusiasm, her voice exuding a warmth that almost verges on giddy. The surge of energy she emanates feels almost overwhelming, a stark contrast to the subdued atmosphere that has accompanied your arrival.

“I haven't packed anything. I didn't plan on staying…” you mumble, your words trailing off into the evening breeze. Despite your half-hearted protest, she seizes your hand and playfully pulls you towards the main house. Reluctance threads through your steps, a tangible resistance to the unexpected detour that fate seems to be orchestrating. 

“There's a guest room in the house, and you can borrow some clothes from Jessi or me. Those heels and that dress aren't exactly farm-friendly attire.” She laughs, a melody of warmth that resonates through the short walk to the house. Soo-ah guides you to the guest room where you'll be spending the night, and then you both make your way to the kitchen. 

There, you encounter another enchanting presence—a statuesque woman, tall and slender, her ebony hair culminating at her neck. Her eyes, a captivating shade of incredibly dark brown, bordering on obsidian, stand out against her lovely fair white skin. Clad in a simple yet elegant ensemble of a dark t-shirt paired with dark blue denim jeans, she moves gracefully around the kitchen, orchestrating what appears to be a culinary feast in the making. 

“I'm Ha-rin.” A casual wave accompanies her introduction, a seamless dance of gestures as she deftly grabs a handful of vegetables with the other hand.

“This is Jessi's sister,” Soo-ah introduces you with a warm smile, and Ha-rin nods in a gesture that suggests a preexisting understanding. “How can we help?” she inquires, her words carrying a blend of genuine curiosity and an unspoken readiness to extend hospitality. 

“You can set the table. I'm almost done with the food,” she declares, seamlessly transitioning to the task of cutting carrots with a professional speed that leaves you duly impressed.

Soo-ah guides you to the location of plates and glasses, and in a synchronized dance, you both embark on setting the table in the dining room. The collaborative effort carries an unexpected warmth, a departure from the solitary routine you've grown accustomed to. The act of sharing this communal task conjures a sense of nostalgia; it's been a long time since you've partaken in such simple yet meaningful rituals. Your dining experiences have often been solitary, occasionally shared with a partner, although those instances are rare occurrences in the tapestry of your solitary meals.

In no time, Ha-rin completes the culinary masterpiece, presenting a spread of oven-cooked chicken, a colorful assortment of vegetables, and tantalizing kimchi. The table becomes a canvas adorned with the promise of a delectable feast. As you all take your seats, another presence joins the gathering—Ara, a tall woman with big brown eyes and chocolate-brown hair cascading gracefully over her shoulders. Her curves and paler skin distinguish her from Ha-rin, yet she radiates the same warmth that characterizes the group. 

The door swings open, and into the room strides your sister, a pronounced frown etching lines of disapproval on her face the moment her sharp eyes lock onto your figure seated at her dining table. 

“Didn't I tell you to leave?” Her voice cuts through the air, laden with an undeniable tension that hangs like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the gathering. 

With an exasperated roll of your eyes, you confront the directness that has always characterized Jessi, even if it doesn't always come across as nice. “It's getting dark, and Soo-ah graciously provided me with a room for the night. I'm not leaving until I get your signature,” you assert, the declaration hanging in the air like an unyielding challenge. 

Jessi's voice carries a distinct air of deflation, and it becomes evident that obtaining her signature won't be a victory achieved tonight, if at all. Resigned, she takes her place at the head of the table, a silent acknowledgment of the impasse. 

A stretch of silence envelops the dining room as everyone engages in the act of eating, a temporary truce. However, the calm is shattered as Jessi, unable to contain her emotions any longer, erupts like a dormant volcano. “Why can't you just keep your share of the ranch, huh?” Her words punctuate the air, each question a stab to the atmosphere, accentuated by the forceful plunge of her fork into the unfortunate chicken.

“Honestly?” You draw in a deep breath, preparing for the verbal fallout, fully aware that you've stepped into a minefield. “I just need the money.” The words hang in the air, a stark admission that lays bare your motivations. Jessi's frown deepens, her disapproving expression not eliciting the slightest surprise from you. 

“Why can't you just buy my share?” The words escape you in a frustrated huff, irritation building with each passing moment. Jessi's ability to get on your nerves becomes increasingly evident, a skill she's always excelled at. 

“I don't have the money to buy you out,” she states bluntly, her voice carrying a mix of blankness and anger, turning the tension at the table sour. Your plate, once adorned with the delicious offerings crafted by Ha-rin, now sits neglected, the food losing its appeal in the wake of the strained conversation. What a shame, you think, as the beautifully prepared meal becomes a casualty of the familial clash, and your appetite dissipates like the vanishing aroma of an abandoned feast.

“Why are you so mad at me?” you sputter out in frustration, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to pull at your hair in exasperation. The room echoes with a tense silence, interrupted only by the subtle sound of your sister's scuff, a precursor to the deep inhale that precedes the unleashing of her fury upon you.

“I haven't seen you in twenty years. You stomp in here, wanting to take my home away from me. And you didn't even attend Mom's funeral. Some balls you have.” Her voice is stern, each word laced with venom, and her glare cuts through you like a knife. To punctuate her disapproval, she slams her hands down hard on the table. “I'm going to bed. Goodnight.” 

Then she stomps off. At least she has some manners, you think, acknowledging the begrudging ‘goodnight’ she offered. Nevertheless, you sigh, the rest of the girls casting pitiful glances in your direction.

You lean back in the chair, contemplating the daunting challenge of ever getting on your sister's good side. The prospect seems as elusive as catching a shooting star, an almost impossible mission. Just as you sink into the depths of your thoughts, Ara shatters your contemplation with a beaming smile. “We're having a party tomorrow. Won't you stay for that?”

You take a few seconds to mull over her offer: a party in the countryside does sound intriguing, but the prospect of extended time with a sister who harbors animosity towards you gives you pause. Soo-ah, sensing your hesitation, steps in with a persuasive grin, “There'll be hot men!”

Then, in an instant, thoughts of Jimin flood your mind, and the prospect of his presence at the party becomes a tantalizing factor. A glimmer of optimism flickers; perhaps attending won't be as unbearable as you initially thought. Contemplating the possibility of a good time, you decide, “Who can say no to that?”

A forced laugh escapes your lips, but within it, there's a hint of genuine enjoyment. Sometimes, you remind yourself, you have to fake it until you make it.

The barn pulsates with the rhythm of the music, a lively mix of country tunes, not exactly your preferred genre, yet the melodies weave seamlessly into the rustic ambiance. Couples and friends sway to the slow beats on the dance floor, creating an intimate atmosphere that, despite your initial reservations, feels oddly fitting. Most attendees linger along the walls engaged in conversation, and as your eyes scan the scene, you notice a handful of men. The girls weren't exaggerating – the company includes some undeniably attractive men.

The majority of women sport casual dresses, much like the one you've borrowed from Ha-rin. Clad in a long black lace dress that subtly accentuates your curves, you navigate the sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces. In stark contrast, Jessi's attire veers towards practicality – shirt, jeans and boots, a reflection of her enduring tomboyish nature. While you entertain a fleeting thought about the silliness of her choice for a party, a deeper understanding dawns. She’s always been more practical, and her choice of clothes tonight might align with that too. 

Surveying the lively scene again, your eyes lock onto your sister, deeply engrossed in a conversation with Jimin, an interaction that sparks both curiosity and a twinge of apprehension within you. 

As Ha-rin diligently tends to the culinary offerings, ensuring a variety of light snacks for everyone, Soo-ah and Ara steal the spotlight on the improvised dance floor. Their laughter echoes through the barn, a harmonious blend of joy and camaraderie, and you can't help but be drawn into the dynamic and diverse interactions unfolding around you.

Turning on your heels, a craving for the crisp embrace of fresh air seizes you. Opting for the subtlety of a quiet exit, you make your way toward the back door of the barn. The metallic touch of the door handle graces your palm with a forgiving chill, a stark departure from the warmth and vibrancy pulsating within. Pushing the door ajar, the night air rushes to greet your face, prompting a sigh of contemplation. 

However, as you step outside, your serenity shatters with a startle – a towering, muscular figure leans against the barn, arms crossed, waiting in the shadows of the night.

A startled yelp escapes your lips, accompanied by an inadvertent inhalation of lingering smoke in the air. The features of the stranger remain elusive, shrouded in the haze, as they release a deep and resonant chuckle in response to your momentary disarray. 

“Scaredy-cat?” he teases, the resonance of his laughter causing an animated jiggle through his entire upper body. Your gaze inadvertently drifts to his well-defined pectorals, emphasized by the snug fit of his ripped tank top. The exact hue of the fabric eludes you in the dim light, a mysterious darkness with a hint of, perhaps, deep blue.

You approach him, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance, though inwardly acknowledging the undeniable truth – you are indeed a scaredy-cat. Closing the distance, your eyes trace a path from his broad shoulders down his right arm, a canvas adorned with a full sleeve of tattoos. Among the intricate designs, some manifest in striking black and white, while others burst forth with vivid splashes of color, each telling a silent tale waiting to be unraveled.

Approaching him, you realize you've left his question hanging in the air. Coming to a halt in front of this enigmatic figure, you find yourself captivated by his deep, dark brown eyes. In the obscurity of the night, tiny glints of light echo the stars above, gleaming in his gaze. His pitch black long hair, with small curls at the end, frame his handsome face. Contrary to the rugged bulk of his body, his facial features exude a surprising softness. Thick, black eyebrows frame his expressive eyes, while a slim, pointed nose adds to the symphony of features. A sharp, defined jawline contrasts with the plushness of his rosy lips, gently circling a half-smoked cigarette.

“Jessi’s sister, huh?” He inhales deeply from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke that dances in the air beside you. 

“Y-Yes,” you stammer nervously, a feeble symphony to the deep timbre of his laughter. Nonetheless, you summon the courage to introduce yourself, your name a tentative melody lingering in the night air.

“I'm Jungkook.” He announces, the remnants of the cigarette meeting its demise beneath the sole of his boot, extinguishing any lingering embers. A subtle caution against the spark that could set the night ablaze.

“You look hot. Want to make out?” His gaze boldly traces over you, and a sudden self-consciousness grips you in the delicate embrace of your lace dress. Your cheeks ignite in a bright red flush, caught off guard by the unexpected boldness of his proposition.

Your flabbergasted expression seems to amuse him, and his laughter echoes, revealing an endearing smile that prompts a soft, airy chuckle to escape your lips in response.

“I'm serious, you know,” he says, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Another blush creeps up on you at his bluntness. Initially thinking he was joking, you now realize he's actually serious. As you assess him, you can't deny his incredible attractiveness, coupled with a nice smile and soft eyes. Perhaps he can't be all bad, right?

You saunter closer, conducting a swift yet thorough assessment of him. With a teasing lick of your lips, you signal that you're up for the game. “Sure.”

In a bold surge, he captures your lips, biting down on your lower lip as if seeking entrance. Yielding to the magnetic pull, your tongues engage in a fiery dance. His hands firmly grip your shoulders, giving a reassuring squeeze before deftly maneuvering you against the wall.

In a ravenous and swift embrace, his lips claim yours, leaving you breathless when he breaks away, his gaze smoldering with a lustful intensity that ignites a fiery sensation beneath your skin. Though not one to engage in impulsive encounters, the intoxicating allure of the moment fans the flames of excitement within you. Reminding yourself of the imminent departure tomorrow, you boldly lean in, craving another taste, and surrender to the intoxicating dance of desire.

As the kiss deepens, his demeanor doesn't exude sweetness or tenderness, and strangely, you find solace in that. After all, tomorrow marks your return home. The intensity of his kiss, possessive and profound, spirals you into a mindless whirlwind, your thoughts dissipating into nothingness, overwhelmed by the feeling of his rugged frame pressed firmly against yours.

His gravelly voice breaks the kiss momentarily as he breathlessly declares, “Your lips are so damn soft.” 

Locking eyes with you, he plunges back into the intoxicating exchange, this time with an urgent and fervent intensity that mirrors his escalating desire, leaving little room for restraint.

Your fingers dig into the firm contours of his hips, tracing an electrifying path along the sculpted landscape of his toned body. The rhythmic play of his muscles beneath your touch is a tactile symphony, every ridge and sinew a testament to his strength, creating an intricate dance beneath the fabric of his shirt.

His lips embark on a tantalizing journey, lingering on your cheek with teasing kisses before reaching your ear. A low, guttural growl escapes his lips as he presses his pelvis against you, sending a bolt of electricity through your body. The warmth of his breath against your ear ignites a wildfire of sensations, and the undeniable presence of his arousal is impossible to ignore. Control slips away like sand through your fingers, and you find yourself succumbing to the irresistible pull of desire.

You bite down on your lips, the struggle to suppress a moan palpable. Despite the lively party unfolding just a breath away, Jungkook possesses an uncanny ability to whisk you into a world of his own creation, making the chaotic celebration fade into insignificance.

His hands explore the contours of your breasts, coaxing a soft moan from your lips. The absence of padding in your bra leaves your nipples immediately responsive to his teasing fingers. Sensations surge through you, and as your panties cling uncomfortably, an urgent desire to shed them intensifies.

His breath hot against your ear, he whispers, “I want to fuck you so bad, can I?”

The firm squeeze on your breasts sends a wave of desire through you. Fuck. The craving intensifies, and the anticipation of being with him grows insatiable. It's been an eternity since you felt this desire, and you're already on the edge, yearning for his touch.

Your response escapes in a breathy whisper, “Hell yes.” 

Your fingers find purchase on the contours of his chest, seeking stability amid the whirlwind of desire that envelops you both.

The symphony of desire crescendos as you catch the melodic jingle of his belt being undone, the tantalizing slide of metal against leather, and the whisper of a zipper surrendering its secrets. Soon, his jeans cascade down, pooling around his knees.

Your curiosity takes over, compelling you to cast an audacious gaze downward, and even through the fabric of his underwear, the impressive outline of his arousal is undeniable. The undeniable bulge hints at a restrained intensity, and summoning your courage, you boldly cup him, your touch sending a low, guttural groan reverberating through the charged air.

“Are you good to go without any prep?” His question, a tantalizing whisper in your ear, sends shivers down your spine, and the resonant, lust-laden timbre of his voice resonates deep within you. 

Nodding in affirmation, you can't help but bite your lip, feeling the promise of an exhilarating encounter ahead. “Yes,” you murmur, a breathy admission to the impending intensity.

As he lowers his underwear, his dick is unleashed, an impressive display of length and girth, veins tracing its sculpted form. The engorged head, flushed and intense, undergoes a few suggestive strokes from his skilled hands, droplets of precum glistening as they descend to the ground below.

His touch is commanding, fingers tracing a path down the contours of your dress, gathering the fabric in his strong grip. Swiftly, his hands venture beneath, reaching the apex of your panties. In one bold motion, he removes them, allowing them to cascade to the ground as you gracefully step out, shedding inhibitions along with the delicate undergarment.

Unexpectedly, he seizes your hips, effortlessly lifting you into the air. As you leap, your legs instinctively wrap around his tiny waist, aligning your bare core with his throbbing dick, a subtle gasp escaping your lips as your wetness coats his cock.

A soft moan escapes your lips at the tantalizing contact, and Jungkook, seizing the opportunity, grips your supple curves, pressing you firmly against the wall for stability. Skillfully, he produces a condom out of thin air, wraps his cock with it and positions his dick at the entrance of your eager pussy. Your hands instinctively clutch his neck, a mixture of anticipation and desire written across your face as you brace yourself for the impending ecstasy. With a devious smile playing on his lips, he tantalizingly teases the velvety folds of your cunt with the head of his cock. But the pretense of gentleness is short-lived, as he discards any lingering pleasantries and thrusts his dick into your warm and eager core in one seamless motion.

A gasp escapes your lips as an exquisite stretch engulfs you, momentarily testing your limits. Yet, the generous coating of your arousal ensures that the discomfort swiftly transforms into an intoxicating wave of pleasure, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

He moves with an urgency that suggests an impending deadline, setting a pace that mirrors a sense of immediacy, as if time is a luxury he can't afford. The reasons behind his haste remain a mystery, and in this moment, you find yourself indifferent to the ticking clock, wholly absorbed in the intensity of the present.

“Mmmhh. You’re so tight.” 

You gasp at the force of his thrusts, feeling the impact resonate through your body as your back collides with the wall. The slight discomfort is eclipsed by the overwhelming pleasure, and his raspy pants only intensify the raw, visceral connection between you, each movement a symphony of pleasure and urgency. He thrusts forcefully, plunging into the depth of your pussy.

Wrapping your legs around him, you greedily pull him closer, breathless huffs escaping your lips with each relentless thrust. “Yes! Right there!” The pleasure becomes almost blinding as he unerringly targets that sweet, sensitive spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure that build an exquisite tension, promising an impending climax that pulses in the depths of your core.

“Shit.” He pants huskily into your ear, a shiver running down your spine in response. The intensity of his thrusts is unparalleled, each powerful movement leaving an indelible mark on your senses. The realization hits you that tomorrow might bring soreness, but in the heat of the moment, with a dick this good, you decide it's a price worth paying.

Your moans have evolved into uninhibited symphonies, each thrust hitting that exquisite spot that sends shockwaves through your body. The coil in your tummy tightens, ready to snap, just waiting for that final nudge to propel you over the edge. “I’m so close.”

Jungkook's grip on your ass tightens, but with skilled precision, he frees one hand and navigates it down the narrow space between your bodies. Despite the limited room, his large hand finds your clit and begins to rhythmically rub it to the beat of his thrusts. The sensation is mind-blowing. Every rub and thrust unravel your body, sending waves of ecstasy through every inch of your being.

Then he leans in, his hot breath grazing your ear, and he moans, pushing you right over the edge, “Come on my cock, pretty.”

“Jungkook!” You pant his name erratically as the coil inside snaps, and you release your fluid over his cock, synchronized with his relentless thrusts. You gasp for air, momentarily feeling your vision blur as your orgasm surges through your spent body.

He keeps thrusting into you, and you feel utterly spent, so you’re just hanging on and clinging to him for dear life. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes as he relentlessly fucks you, searching for his own sweet release.

At a particularly hard thrust, you open your eyes, and they collide with a figure standing in the shadows. 

Brown eyes and blonde hair meet yours. 

You gulp, feeling your core clench instinctively. 

It's Jimin. 

His eyes reflect a mix of sadness and disappointment as they lock onto yours for a few lingering moments. He turns away and retreats back into the lively party. You don’t appreciate the unsettling expression on Jimin’s face, but there’s little you can do about it now. A strange and disconcerting feeling settles in your stomach.

“Fuck, you just got tighter, babe. I’m almost there.” His hands tighten their grip, his biceps flexing as he pulls you closer, syncing your movements with the intensity of his thrusts.

You sense Jungkook's thrusts growing more erratic, a telltale sign he's close. Despite his exhaustion, he strives to give his all in those final fervent moments, and you feel the warmth of his release filling the condom inside you as his pace slows. He's visibly breathless, and you empathize; after all, he exerted himself, utilizing every ounce of strength to keep you elevated. In his position, you'd likely be a panting mess on the ground.

“You good?” He inquires, scrutinizing your expression. Whether he discerns the melancholy etched on your face or not, he doesn't comment. Gently withdrawing from you and discarding the condom, he steadies you on shaky legs. You respond with a pensive smile and a nod. The night was undeniably enjoyable, yet Jimin's forlorn gaze lingers in your thoughts, casting a shadow over the post-passion atmosphere.

“I had a good time, thank you.” You muster a smile, though it feels a bit strained. Whether he perceives it or not is uncertain, and even if he does, you doubt it holds much significance to him.

“Same here. Thanks, babe.” His laughter rumbles as he rights himself, adjusting his underwear and fastening his pants. As he tends to his attire, you scan the floor for your abandoned panties.

As you retrieve them, you notice the dirt clinging to the delicate fabric, deciding against putting them on. Instead, you allow them to slip from your grasp, figuring you'll retrieve them tomorrow for a wash. The last thing you want is to flaunt dirty underwear at the party.

Jungkook strides confidently back into the lively party, and you trail closely in his wake, anticipation and a lingering heat coloring the air around you.

As you reenter the vibrant party scene, a sudden hush falls over the crowd, and the weight of all eyes on you feels like an invisible spotlight, making you wish for a momentary escape beneath the ground.

As you scan the crowd for Jimin, your gaze briefly collides with his, only to witness him quickly diverting his eyes elsewhere. 

A perplexing mix of emotions lingers in his gaze—perhaps hurt or frustration. Puzzled, you question the impact of your intimate encounter outside, contemplating why he might be affected when, by all accounts, you share no significant ties.

As you enter the dining room, the tempting aroma of Ha-rin's carefully prepared breakfast envelops you, offering a flavorful farewell before you embark on your journey back to the bustling city.

As you approach the table, a surprising sense of harmony fills the room, with everyone already seated, including Jessi, who appears to be in higher spirits—perhaps fueled by the knowledge that she’s getting rid of you today.

Soo-ah's eyes sweep the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she starts, “ I discovered a pair of lacy red panties outside the barn this morning.”

You nearly choke on your food, a sudden realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. “Shit. Those are mine. Completely slipped my mind. My bad.”

All eyes suddenly fixate on you, their curiosity palpable. Soo-ah's gaze is practically bulging out of her eyes, Ara looks equally stunned, and Ha-rin can't help but release an amused ‘ooohh.’ Even Jessi, with her usual nonchalant demeanor, can't completely hide the flicker of intrigue in her eyes as she rolls them at the unfolding gossip.

Curiosity and a mischievous glint spark in Ara's big brown doe eyes as she leans forward, her cheeks tinted with a hint of red, and pops the question, “Who did you fuck?”

Between casual bites of scrambled eggs, you drop the bombshell, “A guy named Jungkook. You know him?” The nonchalance in your tone does little to mask the intrigue dancing in your eyes, leaving the table hanging on your every word.

A heavy hush descends upon the table, and you scan the faces around you, perplexed by the sudden silence. Disapproval lingers in Jessi's slow shake of the head, while the exchange of disconcerting glances among the girls hints at a shared, unspoken concern.

“What’s wrong?” Concern etches your voice as you inquire, the subtle panic seeping through, unable to grasp the sudden tension enveloping the table.

Soo-ah leans in dramatically, her words hanging in the air like a heavy secret. “You fucked Jungkook,” she drawls, the gravity of her statement sinking in, and a chill coursing through your veins. “The same Jungkook who's been with half the town—Park Jungkook.” The weight of his name leaves you wide-eyed, a sinking feeling settling in your gut.

Your jaw practically hits the floor, or it would if that were humanly possible. Park? Jungkook and Jimin are brothers?

Fuck.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

Omg 🫢 How did you like the ending??? I hope you won’t be too mad… The fling with Jungkook only happens this one time, but necessary to happen for the rest of the story to make sense 🥲

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[hiramaris]

Kiss It Off Me

CHAPTER 2

Chapter Summary:

And what does Haley do when things don't go her way? She sabotages. So it wasn't a surprise when Haley's mouth opened and the next words that came out were ones she never intended to say. It was a defense mechanism, a way to push people away before they could hurt her. "If it weren't for those horrendous clothes, you might actually be pretty," she blurted out, regretting it as soon as the words left her lips.

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer:  I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: None so far? Just Haley being her usual self

Notes:

Okay, so originally in my AO3 this is meant to be a Haley x OC and I have already created a solid description for my character. However, I thought it would be much better if I changed it to a reader-insert instead tho I'll probably keep some physical descriptions that I had already inserted, so sorry about that. Also, if some of y'all have already read this in my AO3, expect some minor changes.

Gif from loriedarlin.tumblr.com

Spring 1

Haley rises with the grace of a blooming sunflower that she is. It's finally Spring!

No longer will she suffer from the icy chill that makes her toes feel like they're about to fall off, none of that ridiculously nasty snow that forces her to use that Yoba awful boots she had hidden at the deepest part of her wardrobe, and just as equally terrible gloves that hinder her from using her camera let alone her phone when she finally got that once in a blue moon occurrence of perfect lighting outside.

And most importantly; no more dry, frizzy hair.

AND.

She could finally continue her tan!

Oh, the endless possibilities that await her in this new season. So much to explore and experience. Haley is positively bursting with excitement, eager to dive into all the joys, and wonders what something new Spring has planned for her.

****

When Haley expected something new, She didn't mean new 'new' like a new person but new as in something exciting like a freshly arrived parcel from the shop she ordered online, or perhaps a new conditioner that makes her hair bounce and makes it shinier that Yoba could mistake it as the sun. 

Her expectations were already at rock bottom with Pelican Town being the dullest place on earth.

But why oh why did she even bother to expect?

"The new farmer's coming today, just so you know," Emily casually mentions as she washed their dishes that morning.

Haley scrunched up her face. She had already forgotten about it. Why bring it up again?

"Oh, goody. Another reason to avoid the Townsquare today."

Emily turned to her with her typical condescending look she learned to hate. "Hay, you don't have to become BFFs with her right off the bat. Just say hello and try not to be your usual mean self. You'll thank me later."

"And I don't have to introduce myself within the day, Em." Haley crossed her arms, standing her ground. "This is no classroom where you need to acquaint the new kid on her first day." 

"I know." She sighed as if she was having a conversation of repetition with a toddler and she's running out of patience. "Just be nice to her, yeah?"

Haley didn't answer. With camera tucked carefully between her hands, she left the kitchen without a word. Emily never fails to make her feel like a child being taken care of by her. Like she's in dire need of a babysitter and without her guidance, Haley would be nothing.

It's infuriating really. 

No. 

She wouldn't let this ruin her day.

Today was going to be a good day. Emily's incessant nagging couldn't change that. Besides, she probably wouldn't even meet the new farmer. It was already past 10, and the girl was most likely already mingling with the locals or resting in that old cottage of hers.

She can still take pictures back in Marnie's ranch. then she can hang out with Alex in his place. Go back home exactly during Emily's shift on the Saloon and then she'll have the whole house to herself while she can finally cook something edible without Emily breathing down her neck.

Yes, that would be ideal. Today is a good day.

****

Wrong.

Just as Haley stepped foot outside 2 Willow Lane, she was greeted by a tall, unfamiliar woman strolling by her house at an infuriatingly slow pace.

You held a whole map of what she assumed was the town's which was big enough to hide your whole face, and as well as hinder your vision to notice Haley on the side, much to her relief.

Are you the new girl?

All that she can tell is that you have the darkest hair she has ever seen in her whole life. It was shiny, and ridiculously long, too which kinda compliments its wavy nature. 

Also, why the hell are you in a dress shirt and a tie?

Haley may be a bit far behind the books but she's sure as hell that isn't the right attire for someone who'll work on a farm.

If Haley didn't know Lewis is the mayor, she'd probably think you're the new mayor with your totally immaculate wardrobe— a dress shirt and a tie, perfectly flattened slacks, and a pair of leather shoes that probably look expensive.

Shit. Are you really the farmer? Or just a visitor?

Oh, no. Are you turning around? Oh, Yoba, she is!

Haley scrambled to her feet. Not sure if she should bolt inside the house, run to the Townsquare, or what. 

With her probably last brain cell that saves her from the utter embarrassment of being caught checking out the new farmer (absolutely not, the disgrace), her own body moves on its own. She grabbed her camera and positioned herself like she was taking a photo of the least appealing subject she had ever captured in her life— Emily's cactus.

Please not now, Yoba. Not now.

She found herself praying to the deities she no longer talked to when she felt your eyes burning into her back. She had probably taken a load of mediocre photos of Emily's plant when she finally felt the farmer leaves.  

She breathed a sigh of relief when she turned around and found the street empty apart from her. Only then did she notice how fast her heart was beating against her chest.

Thank Yoba for saving me from that mortifying introduction.

Why is she even nervous anyway? She didn't even see me. Even so, that was so embarrassing.

Wait, no.

Embarrassed, not nervous.

Only embarrassed, nothing else.

The word nervous and Haley doesn't fit. In fact, it should never ever be used in a single sentence. Haley doesn't get nervous, ever.

She was just caught off guard, that's all. 

Next time, she'd prepare an introduction so fantastic that you would be left with the impression that Haley is too good for you— kind and never mean, but still way out of your league.

Just you wait, stranger. She thought determinedly, trying to ignore the voice at the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Emily, asking her if she was really sure it was going to be a good day.

Haley doesn't really know.

****

"Did you meet Y/n?" was Emily's first words when she arrived home from her shift.

Haley remained sprawled on the couch, flipping through the pages of her fashion magazine for this season. The struggle was real, trying to choose between the blue skirt or the pink shorts.

"Who?" she asked, her eyes still glued to the glossy pages.

"The farmer, Hay." She can feel Emily rolling her eyes at her.

"Oh," Haley feigns interest, barely lifting her gaze. "That not-so-tall, dark-haired farmer with a fashion taste of an old woman ready to retire from her corporate job?"

Emily gasped, and Haley turned to look just in time to see her scandalized look. To be fair, you don't look that bad. You also tower over Haley for a couple of inches and your fashion sense isn't the worst that she has seen in her life. Haley wouldn't be caught alive admitting that aloud though, especially not in front of Emily.

Lies are an easier language to learn after all.

"Don't tell me you just insulted her on her first day?"

"Of course not." Haley protested, magazine long forgotten. "I saw her but I didn't even talk to her nor she even tried. The doofus was so busy with her stupid map to even see me."

Looking back at the scene made her feel embarrassed, relieved, and offended at the same time.

Like how could you not notice a true beauty in front of you? Her face alone was enough to catch the attention of all the people in the area. She's not crowned flower queen for nothing yet you just walked passed her like she's just an average woman!

How dare she?

But on the side, it would have been embarrassing otherwise for Haley to be caught alive staring at the newcomer with wonder in her eyes.

Would anyone really blame her though? It was perfectly natural to size up the competition in terms of beauty.

Right?

Right?

And it's not like she noticed how broad your shoulder was or how your lean physique perfectly suited your chosen profession. Not at all, pft.

"Still, you could have said hello," Emily tries to reason with her, oblivious to the internal conflict turning on the gears of Haley's brain. 

"Why should I? I'm not the new girl, aren't I?" She shrugged indifferently, turning back to her mag once again. "And what kind of lame name is Y/n, anyway?"

"Haley." There's that tone again.

"What?" she snapped.

"Don't even start. Y/n is actually nice." Emily chided softly, her eyes boring into Haley's like a disappointed mother. "You said it yourself, this isn't high school anymore. Being mean doesn't get you anywhere."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Haley bristled at the insinuation, standing up to face Emily with a fierce expression. "Are you saying I'm directionless just because you have a job, and I don't?"

"I'm saying that being kind is always the right choice," Emily's calmness only fueled the anger she felt. "And trust me, it doesn't cost you anything to be nice to someone. But being mean can cost you more than you think."

Haley remained tight-lipped, not wanting to argue with her sister anymore. Emily seemed to mistake her silence for compliance.

"I'm just trying to look out for you, okay? Sorry if I came on too strong," Emily consoled her, giving her a pat on the head. "I'm off to bed now, gotta wake up early tomorrow. Goodnight, sis."

As Emily headed off to bed, Haley was left to ponder the events of the day—

No fantastic photos in Marnie's ranch because the nasty smell of animal waste was enough to drive her back to her entry steps, and the risk of running across the new farmer is greater there so, no.

As for Alex, forget it, she didn't have the stomach to endure his stench after playing with his ball all day. Her only option was to head back home.

Emily left early which is a good thing but when Haley went to the kitchen to finally practice her baking skills, she only found out that they had no more eggs. She could have run to Pierre's to get some but she isn't really keen on doing the shopping herself. That's Emily's forte, not hers.

And now, she's been lectured by her sister like she's some rebelled teen.

What a good way to start the year, huh?

Yeah, today is not a good day. 

****

Spring 2

Haley was out with her camera in Cindersap Forest just by the river. Unlike yesterday, it seems Marnie was just as bothered by the smell of her animals and decided to deep clean her ranch or whatever. So, the air was fresh and crisp, allowing Haley to breathe deeply without cringing.

The weather was ideal for taking photos— partly cloudy with a gentle breeze that carried delicate flecks of pollen through the air.

Despite her aversion to dirt and anything that possibly has germs in it, Haley loved taking pictures of nature. Behind the camera lens, she felt a profound connection to the world around her. She was in her element, lost in her own world, and nothing else mattered. Once she found the perfect subject, she was determined to capture it, no matter how dirty or injured she might become.

At this time of the year, the river looked especially magnificent in the soft light, and the falling pollen added a magical touch to the already enchanting scenery.

Just as Haley was about to snap the perfect shot, she heard a little squeak that was impossible to ignore. She turned her head to locate the source and was delighted to discover a...

Squirrel!

The little creature was the cutest thing she had ever seen, second only to the bunnies she had spotted at Marnie's ranch last year.

Haley raised her camera, ready to capture the moment forever. As if sensing her intent, the little guy let out another adorable squeak before darting off toward the deeper part of the forest where the weird old guy with the tower lived. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was worth it to follow the squirrel, but her impulsive nature won out in the end.

With ragged breath and hair slightly disheveled, Haley finally caught up to the squirrel. And then, as if time had stopped, she stumbled upon a sight that took her breath away.

There you are, the farmer— Y/n, she reminded herself, with your back hunched over as you fed the little guy a handful of wild walnuts that you had foraged from the forest.

No longer did you look like the poised and polished woman in your dress shirt, tie, and slicked-back hair. Instead, you wore a well-worn jumper over a faded farmer's shirt, with your hair loosely tied up in a haphazard ponytail. 

You looked... different.

It was as if you belonged in this community far more than Haley ever could.

Maybe it's the clothes, or maybe it's the way the little squirrel was so comfortable in your presence.

Before she knew it, Haley's body moved on its own, and she instinctively raised her camera to capture the moment. It was a picture-perfect moment that spoke to her soul, one that was raw, genuine, and brimming with vulnerability.

For years she hadn't seen something as picturesque and just raw and so vulnerable as this.

Suddenly, you whirled on your spot with wide eyes.

Wide, so gray, very surprised gray eyes, and your just as dark eyebrows rose so high it disappeared behind a thin curtain of bangs. The little squirrel darted behind a bush in fright, startled by the sudden flash of Haley's camera.

It felt like ages before Haley's fried brain decided that maybe it was time to finally move and stop making a fool out of herself for the second time around. You are just as frozen, your hands still holding three walnuts suspended in midair.

"Uhm," you started, voice soft and hesitant. Finally standing from your place, Haley could just stare at how tall you are in this proximity. You let out a small smile. "You're the girl with the camera yesterday, right?"

Haley could only nod. The words dying on her tongue. Her brain is still short-circuiting in all ways possible. 

"Oh..." Haley breathes out, her heart racing as she takes in the sight before her. "You're that new farmer girl or whatever, aren't you?"

Just how the hell did the gray get so green though? She wonders as your eyes bore into her with piqued curiosity. Was it the lighting and the green scenery that did it?

Good Yoba.

Is it possible for someone to be blessed with a nose this fine, so shapely up close? And don't even get her started on how a farmer could have such luscious, shiny hair when Haley has to spend hours just to get that shine and bounce that she likes.

What kind of mouth is that even? It's so small yet so plump. It doesn't look chapped though. You don't seem to be a lip gloss type, so you must be using chapstick regularly. That's good.

And wait, were you talking?

"Huh?" she mutters to herself, catching herself from zoning out once again. "Oh... I'm Haley." She manages to respond in what little she had caught up from your ramblings. 

She only understands the word grandpa, Zuzu City, Y/n, and new. 

You smiled and that's all that it took for the accumulating embarrassment to flush on Haley. It was too bright, too happy, too much and Haley couldn't handle all that.

For the first time, she's at loss for words, flustered, and was that her being nervous? 

In a desperate attempt to regain control, Haley shook her head vigorously, hoping to shake off the ridiculous embarrassment that was consuming her.

And what does Haley do when things don't go her way?

She sabotages.

So, it wasn't a surprise when Haley's mouth opened and the next words that came out were ones she never intended to say. It was a defense mechanism, a way to push people away before they could hurt her.

"If it weren't for those horrendous clothes, you might actually be pretty," she blurted out, regretting it as soon as the words left her lips.

Your smile evaporated in a split second and Haley almost missed it immediately.

Almost.

"Excuse me?" You looked offended, and Haley could easily admit that she didn't like your eyes when they were darkened like this. 

"Actually, never mind." She replied, steady and fast. Hoping the farmer didn't really hear her stupid comment. 

Just what the hell is wrong with me anyway?

You pursed your lips and went silent for a second or two as you turned and rummaged on your rucksack which Haley hadn't noticed before. "Here," you held out a freshly picked daffodil, and Haley almost swooned. Almost.

Her lips parted in a soft gasp. "For me?"

"Hmm. It kinda looks like you." 

Haley's lips curved into a small smile. "Thank you."

You hummed in acknowledgment, but you didn't return the smile. Had Haley gone too far with that comment earlier?

Haley rarely feels guilty. She always tells herself that she doesn't have anything to apologize for. Her parents didn't, so why should she?

But right now, that dreadful feeling came resurfacing. It's suffocating. 

The silence is suffocating.

"It's my grandpa's." After what seemed like forever, you turned to her with a small, almost nostalgic smile. You must have noticed Haley's questioning look. "These clothes are his," you clarified. "I moved here with nothing but myself after I decided spontaneously that I can't live a life as I had in Zuzu's." You gave out a low chuckle.

Oh.

That's why you looked like that yesterday. It makes sense now. The guilt now creeps on her like a palpable living force. Emily's words came echoing at the back of her mind.

Being mean can cost you more than you think.

The apology is at the tip of her tongue yet a small part of her, the mean one, kept telling her it was just a harmless comment and that she meant nothing of it. How could she know it was your grandpa's? Or that you suffered back in your old city and you're finding a fresh start here?

Because you didn't even give her a chance to know her before you judged her. This Emily conscience of hers is really starting to scare her. But she's right, she did judge you immediately. 

"I—"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be so grim." There's that smile again. "Uhm, sorry to cut this short but" you stared at your watch. "I still have to tidy the farm up; you know it's not exactly the cleanest place right now. I just took a break to feed the little guy. I'll catch you later, Haley."

Haley didn't even have the chance to say goodbye.

Or even apologize.

She sighed as she watched you retreat back to your farm.

****

"How do you say sorry?" Haley asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. She never saw Emily abandon her sewing machine that fast. In record time, she sat beside Haley who chews her bottom lip, clearly troubled. She barely even touched her fruit salad and that's something.

"What did you do?" was her only question yet Haley found herself telling her sister everything. 

Yep, today isn't a good day, too.

~~~~

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A/n: had to delete the other one due to some minor changes again.

[queer-ragnelle]

Hi! I was wondering if you had any advice on how to craft a well-written, compelling Arthurian OC that isn't obnoxious or out of place but is still unique. I recognize the difficulty in doing so with so many different source texts (I'm most familiar with Le Morte, so that's usually my go-to) and the vast list of already existing characters. I'm just curious about your thoughts on the matter, since you're an author and also very knowledgeable about Arthuriana 💖

Hello there!

This is a tough question to answer! I think it's important to note that everyone will have a different opinion on this, but that shouldn't alter you writing your story how you want to. Some think adding any characters at all is too big of a change, while others write a full cast of original characters and then Merlin shows up randomly and makes the story "Arthurian."

I'm going to say something controversial.

Every Arthurian character is an OC.

Even King Arthur himself is an OC.

I'm going to elaborate on this quite a bit, as it's very important to me. But the TL;DR is that reading more will definitely help you conceptualize the boundaries of what's possible. Le Morte d'Arthur is a great start, but there's so much out there, both medieval and modern, that'll undoubtedly aid in your Arthuriana writing journey! :^)

While I do say things like "I love Arthurian OCs" as a means to convey that I view everyone's new creations as valid and interesting, I actually don't believe in a strong differentiation between Chretien de Troyes' Sir Lancelot or Marie of France's Sir Lanval and what you or I are writing today. We're participating in a tradition which can, at times, necessitate the creation of a new character or repurposing of an existing one. I think as soon as you create a character for your Arthurian story, they're an Arthurian character. Some refer to Lancelot or Galahad as "French OCs" or call Knight of the Cart or the Vulgate "fanfiction" as a means to degrade it's validity. Some seem to have an arbitrary timeline on which the full body of Arthurian works is measured, and the more recently something was written, the less authentic it becomes. I think they're wrong. I believe that whether or not we enjoy an installment in the ever expanding Arthurian tradition is irrelevant; it's all equally entitled to a measure of respect, even the new characters. No character or story is lesser than another by virtue of its age or language of origin or target audience or medium. I disdain the excess of scrutiny put upon certain arbitrary groupings of Arthurian tradition. Each story is full of original characters and building on the foundations of what came before. That's the nature of creative influence. Whether or not Arthur was a real person at some point in history is moot. The guy in the Mabinogion or the Vulgate or Le Morte d'Arthur or BBC Merlin is a character. He's a tool to tell a story. Such as your creation will be! Your brand new Arthurian character stands equally with all the rest who preceded them. :^)

Now, it can be helpful to distinguish between a medieval character and a modern one, sure, as they may represent different things depending on what point in history (or part of the world) they were created in. But Arthuriana isn't a franchise one must obtain express permission to contribute to, and it doesn't have a "canon," so therefore differentiating a character as "other" can be counter productive when developing a story. I don't believe Sir Robin from Monty Python and The Holy Grail (1975) or Brian from The Adventures of Sir Lancelot (1956-1957) are any less valuable as characters, even if they do draw on traits of existing Arthurian motifs in order to commentate on them or otherwise expand. In fact I think they're great characters and serve their narrative roles beautifully. One simple and one complex. I recommend watching those to see how it's done well and that may help you develop your own characters. But I'll delve into it a bit here to illustrate what I mean.

Sir Robin carries the coat of arms of a chicken, he's a cowardly knight followed around by a troupe of musicians that sing songs about all of his exploits. That is, the things he's run away from. Rather than use an existing Arthurian character and degrading them, Monty Python developed Sir Robin in order to tell their joke.

The flipside is Brian, a bona fide kitchen boy, who attaches himself to Sir Lancelot and desires to squire for him. Brian's narrative purpose is to deconstruct the nobility in a way that Gareth Beaumains, whom Brian is plainly inspired by, could not. Brian begins as a true serf forced to endear himself to Sir Lancelot to elevate his station. Merlin forges papers of nobility to convince King Arthur that Brian is worthy of this privilege. Even after that, Brian must face the brutality of his fellows while living in the barracks with them, as they don't take kindly to a "smelly kitchen boy" in their midst, plotting to get Brian to incriminate himself as a thief and get evicted from Camelot by Sir Kay. This role is incongruous with Gareth as Sir Gawain's brother, who was always noble, always a prince, and merely cloaked himself in the guise of poverty to prove a point. Gareth could return to the comforts of wealth whenever it suited him and his reason for going stealth was to intentionally distance himself from that privilege. The character Brian exists in order to commentate on the injustice of the upper class's oppression and dehumanization of the lower class in a way Gareth, or even Tor, could not, as they are of noble blood, even if it came by way of reveal. That's why Brian is a great addition to the Arthurian tradition.

Really, it comes down to treating the creation of your new Arthurian character like you would developing one for any other work, one entirely separate from the tradition. If they're a good character, they're a good character! Try not to get hung up too much on whether or not they're going to mesh well with the rest of the cast. For centuries, writers have transformed historical figures into Arthurian characters. (See: King Mark of Kernow better known as the Cuckhold King from the Prose Tristan, Owain mab Urien better known as Sir Yvain from Knight of the Lion by Chretien de Troyes, Saint Derfel better known as Derfel Gadarn from The Warlord Chronicles by Bernard Cornwell, etc.)

Speaking of Prose Tristan, would anyone consider Sir Dinadan an OC? Or Sir Palomides? They're characters added to a story drawing from a much, much older tradition, and I think they enrich the story. I feel likewise about the many Perceval Continuations, including the German Parzival by Wolfram von Eschenbach, which adds a half brother named Sir Feirefiz, or names Chretien's anonymous haughty maiden Orgeluse. What about Sir Aglovale's son Moriaen in the Dutch tradition? Amurfina in German Diu Krone by Heinrich von dem Türlin? Morgan le Fay's daughter Puzella Gaia in Italian La Tavola Ritonda? Not to mention the countless Middle English additions. The Green Knight and his wife? Dame Ragnelle and Sir Gromer? Or how about everyone's favorite Savage Damsel, Lynette of Castle Perilous? Is she not a late-era addition to the tradition courtesy of the man, the myth, the legend, Sir Thomas Malory himself? And then here comes Tennyson, who read Le Morte d'Arthur, and got to the end of dear Gareth Beaumains' story and had the same reaction we all did: "What the hell? He marries her sister?" And then he went about changing that in Idylls of the King. Speaking of Lynette, what's up with her niece Laurel? She's just a name on a page, the vast majority of retellings choose to ignore her, even if they do keep Lynette and Lyonesse. Laurel can scarcely be called a character, after all. She doesn't even have dialogue. So as I've gone out of my way to make her a prominent, fully developed character, with her own culture and back story and motivations, does that make her an OC of mine? And Henry Newbolt who included Laurel in his play Mordred: A Tragedy. And Sarah Zettel, who wrote from Laurel's point of view in Camelot's Blood. We did all the work, but we threw an Arthurian name on the character, so therefore, she isn't ours? But if we changed her name, she would be? Who gets to decide?

All of the Arthurian characters belong to all of us. That's the beauty of writing in a long-standing tradition, which exists apart from all other forms of writing. We have complete creative liberty to do what we want and refer to it how we want and no person or corporation or anyone can dictate otherwise. The intellectual property of Arthuriana belongs to the people. So invent a brand new wife for Gawain, and well, you're only the millionth author to do it! Just make sure she's an interesting character and that's literally the only requirement. Can't wait to meet her. (And all others you create!)

Have a great day!

[yourslimeybuddy]

i swore i wouldnt make a dca oc and yet here i am with Lune. look at my son right now RIGHT NOW

his story is he was SUPPOSED to be Moon’s endoskeleton with the plans to have the DCAs be seperate from eachother, only to get tossed out when the idea was scrapped and they made the DCA have one body. So this little guy is just stuck down in the basement levels with the other Endos, wondering when his “repairs” will be scheduled like the mechanics said

Image ID under the cut

[ID: Several digital drawings of a daycare attendant original character named Moon Endo/Lune. The first drawing shows the oc standing with one arm bent with the finger pointing to themselves. They are an endo skeleton with only the faceplate, chest, and upper right arm covered with the outer shell. The outer shell is that of Moon's, with differences in the faceplate; Their eyes and mouth are closed, simulating a sleeping expression. The next sketch is of Lune curled up with his knees to his chin and hands on his shins. To the right of that sketch is another of Lune from the bust up, with a confused expression with their hand held out and head tilted. Above those two sketches is written "Moon Endo/Lune" and "He/They/It". Below the two sketches are two more. One is a fullbody of Lune in a simplified style with its hands clasped in front of it, and the last is of a game-style accurate sketch of Lune's faceplate. The text around it reads "Game accurate faceplate... not as creepy as I expected". END ID.]

[sarahlizziewrites]

Writeblr for newbies

So you joined Tumblr to talk about your writing. Maybe you're published and you want to promote your works, or maybe you're wanting a supportive community of fellow writers, or maybe you're just writing for the hell of it and want to show the world your blorbos.

Welcome!!

Being a part of the writing side of Tumblr is a little bit like being in kindergarten and all the kids are talking about their imaginary friends to each other. Except some of the kids have published stories about their imaginary friends in real books you can buy. It's so cool.

I have made some wonderful friends on Writeblr, I've ARC'd and beta'd books for people, and I've gotten a lot of warm fuzzies from sharing my snippets and my characters. It's somewhere between self-promo and group therapy, but it doesn't feel like either. It feels like a wonderful community of writers supporting each other.

The Writeblr lingo can seem a little intense at first so I thought I'd set up a guide. If I've missed anything lmk!

WIP - stands for 'work in progress' (plural: WIPs). Any piece of writing (or poetry, or any kind of art) that isn't completed yet. This might be the first draft of a story, or the nth draft of your novel, or the not-yet-posted chapter of the fanfiction you're writing. WIP is a state of mind: it might be nearly complete, or it might just be an idea with a few hundred words attached to it. Talk about it as much or as little as you want.

WIP intro - a totally optional (and honestly a lot of hard work sometimes lol) post explaining the main themes/background/plot/characters of your WIP. Something you can link people to so they good a good idea of your WIP and what it's about. Similarly, character intro, for individual characters within a WIP, often with art/picrews.

Tag game - the lifeblood of Writeblr! In its most basic form, someone tags you in a game, you play the game, then tag other people you want to play the game. Lots of people do 'open tags', which you can also pick up. These games can range from making picrews of your characters to posting a snippet or multiple snippets. A few common ones at the moment (these change often!) are: Find the Word (the tagger gives you words to find in your WIP, you post a short snippet for each word, then give the people you tag new words to find); Last Line (you post the last line(ish) you wrote, or wrote recently); 9 Lines 9 People (post 9(ish) recent lines, tag 9(ish) people). There are so many more, and new ones being created all the time.

Blorbo - your OC (original character) that lives in your mind rent-free. The one(s) you would commit war crimes for. You know the one I'm talking about. In addition, blorbo trading and sharing is encouraged in the Writeblr community.

Ask game - a post that you reblog, usually containing a list of prompts or questions, that encourages your followers to ask those questions in your ask box. It is friendly to drop an ask from the game to the person you reblogged the post from.

Weekly asks - if you've asked to take part, questions about your writing in your inbox, related to a certain day of the week. There's Worldbuilding Wednesday (WBW), which are questions about worldbuilding, Blorbo Blursday (OC questions), and Storyteller Saturday (STS), questions about writing in general. These questions can be very generic and vague, or can be about specific characters/stories.

Pinned Post - basically, an 'about' page. Talk about yourself, your WIPs, the kinds of things you like, whether you want to be involved in Writeblr games, whether your asks are open. You don't need one, but it can be a handy reference point for your followers.

Taglist - sometimes, Tumblr posts get lost on the dash. If you are interested in a particular WIP, ask the author if you can be put on their taglist, so you can get notified every time they post about it. They will love you for it, seriously!

Overall, on Writeblr, it is always encouraged:

to talk about your stories and characters as much as you like. People might not follow along at first, but they'll get on board!

to reblog others' writing/snippets/promo. We're all relying on each other for our sanity here, and a nice comment in the tags never goes amiss either!

I'm sure I've missed something - feel free to add!

[amarguerite]

oh, a third question! i am forever charmed by colonel pascal; he's such a wonderful and entertaining original character that stands up so well to all those existing characters that have been around for hundreds of years. for a while i thought he MUST be, like lord pumphrey, from some book series i wasn't familiar with, because he felt so established and fit the world so well. anyway, my question is this: how do you envision the end of his story, in any or all of the soulmate universes?

Oh so sorry I totally thought I posted this but I accidentally saved it to drafts. WHOOPS

I’m so glad you like Pascal. He and Marjorie vie for favorite OC in my head. He was a delight to write though. I like the delicacy of manner he has, it always gives me an excuse for fun metaphors.

In all soulmate universes he becomes a sort of… bridge figure in history of science. His ideas are a bridge between miasma theory and germ theory. One of the people whose work leads to germ theory though the tools of his time don’t allow him to work out germ theory on his own. How widely people adopt his theories and when they do are very dependent on the universe he’s in, but in all universes he gets taught in… like, American 8th grade classrooms when people learn about how we arrived at germ theory but there isn’t a whole unit on him.

I’d say in the Duke universe, his theories are the most popular and get widely adopted but not until the Duke becomes Prime Minister. In the Darcy universe, his theories are developed and refined the earliest but it takes years for people to come in board, but once they do, it becomes a thing. In the Colonel universe, I think he actually ends up taking a while to get to his theory but he becomes the center of intense cutting-edge medical debates in Paris in the 1830s.

In all of them Colonel Pascal meets the person he considers his soulmate in a rom-come way. He hooks up with the nice new naturalist at Kew Gardens and goes to great lengths to avoid going to Friday dinners at his parents house because his mom is trying to set him up with someone and he’s happy with his hook-up. When his mom finally pins him down, who’s at dinner? The nice new naturalist!

[the-cryptographer]

i do find solas distasteful on an in-character level as well, but i feel engaging any sort of discourse about that is a bit of a dead end for me when the meta foundation for any of it seems to be bedrock for other people when for me it's a pile of sand. mmm, like, with the benefit of hindsight i think a lot of the direction that solas and dai took the lore about elves in these games was foreshadowed as early as origins, but it wasn't until dai that i felt the value i saw in the way velanna and merrill's characters touched themes of cultural genocide, or what i found personally relatable about tabris - an ethnically marginalised a character from a metropolitan ghetto - were perhaps more in the vein of appropriation than representation. (a lot of people saw this earlier than me/had more experience in western speculative fiction fandom than me/weren't so cluelessly standing around wondering how anyone could design a white tabris/mahariel/surana oc without contradicting what i felt were the very obvious racial themes of the character (what did i expect players to do? did i expect them not to use the character creator as they saw fit? did i expect them all to not only have the same understanding i did about these issues, but agree on how to engage them? when bioware itself made the majority of elves in this game white or white-passing by appearances?) i apologise for my naivete, even if i won't apologise for finding meaning where i did and creating fanworks accordingly.) but, yeah, how can i talk about the way solas treats people in-game and my interpretation of his actions when, frankly, his entire character is anathema to what i found engaging and meaningful about the series to start with? that these were not a people hoodwinked by some magical evil pantheon ancient inheritors of the land, but one faction of it struggling in very everyday ways to assert their very modern sensibilities to a world insisting they were already dead - a thing of the past.

idk, i do think the fandom is a bit of a hive of toxic positivity. and all those posts talking about how everyone who doesn't love their favourite blorbo or favourite game in a series (or don't love them so wholly and uncritically) are big dummy meanies, are ultimately as toxic as the posts insisting you are bad wrong morally repugnant if you do love or find meaning in something. But yeah, I'm also not sure there's really much to be gained by levelling in-character critique at a character who has basically shattered the fourth wall for you. like i can say there are a lot of overromanticised ideas about the banality of this character's actions (could say this of most characters even those i love) but the romance is just kind of intrinsically gone once you're talking across a shattered pane of glass at someone who is still engaged by the screen, and at that point you're just ruining the enchantment for them.

[call-sign-shark]

From Blood We'll Grow || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Prompt:  You don’t understand the kind of love you’re getting yourself in

Words: 1.1K

TW: references to murder and crimes, hurt/comfort, I tried something a bit different from what we are used to reading about Arthur

Notes:

✞ Written for the celebration of @runnning-outof-time's 3K revolving around the theme of a flower garden. Flower used: Red Poppies, which are said to grow best in blood-fertilized soil.

✞ This work is a part of the Heaven in Your Eyes universe, but it can be read as a stand-alone. Consequently, Reader is Heaven, OP's original character (Moodboard here). Feel free to check this ongoing series if you wanna know more. Newest chapter of the series HERE.

“Talk to me, please.”

The soft breeze of Birmingham’s spring caressed his skin and carried the words away. Even though Arthur’s piercing blue eyes were watching the sky, all his attention was focused on you. His hand, large and calloused, was covering the palm of yours, frail and perpetually cold. Sometimes he wondered if blood was actually flowing through your veins or if you were made of frostbite and stardust.

“Tell me everything’s awful you did and let me love you anyway.”

The melody of his beating heart echoed in his chest at the same pace as yours. Two souls yearning for each other. Arthur’s fingers tightened their protective grip around you, afraid you would vanish if he did not constantly keep physical contact with you. Moreover, your ice always managed to calm the raging fire he was made of.

“I’ve killed people.”

These three little words hurt as they were spoken. They felt like razor cuts on the tongue, blades coated with caustic acid. And yet, an intense feeling of relief followed soon after. Arthur’s body relaxed.

“I already knew that.”

“No, you didn’t. You suspected it but you still had the choice not to believe it.”

“Does that make a difference?”

“It does for me. Until now you were free to genuinely tell yourself I was a good person, even though you suspected it was not the case. But now that you are aware of my wicked nature you’ll come to realize I might not be as good as you think for you.”

“Bullshit. It doesn’t change anything for me. You’re the creature I love with all my heart. No matter what you’ve done, and no matter what you’ll do, my soul and yours are entangled.”

Arthur, who was laying with his head on your lap abandoned the horizon and looked up to stare at your enchanting doll face. Your long ivory mane danced at the wind’s discretion, the pale and orange hue of the sunset forming a glowing halo on the top of your head. A soothing silence lulled you, only disrupted by the blowing wind and the nearby stream’s murmur. He could not help but smile at your mesmerizing beauty, whose presence embellished the bucolic landscape.

“But I’ve got blood on my hands.”

“So do I, Heaven.”

You looked down at him, the jewels of your iris drowning in the ocean of his, and stopped petting his hair.

“Trust me, angel, I know the best. Each time I enter in a room I see the face of all the people I’ve murdered. Those who deserved it share the place with the innocents who were just unlucky enough to cross paths with the brute I am. Sometimes I see that young lad from the boxing ring sipping on a coffee with the many soldiers I’ve killed… My hands still tingle with the sensation of my fists tightening around their necks or bashing their brains out. But still, you are, kissing the scars on my knuckles and allowing these dirty, murderous hands to touch you when we make love,” Arthur paused and, with his head leaving your lap, he sat next to you in the middle of the vast wild field you loved exploring together, “that’s how I love you. Perfectly imperfect. Because even angels have their own demons…” He said, bringing his free hand on your cheek to stroke it with indescribable softness no one suspected he was capable of, not even himself, “ And Maybe, if you believe in it just a little bit, the ghosts that follow you will find peace in mine eh.”

Like magical balm on a sucking wound, the gravel in his voice soothed the pain of your heart. Admittedly you had been scared to tell him the truth about you for fear he stopped considering you like an Angel — but the truth was you didn’t understand the kind of love you got yourself into. It was the kind of love so intoxicating that you’d physically suffer if you parted from each other for too long. In him you did not find only love, but also understanding and acceptance. Arthur’s way of handling you, with indescribable care and softness, had become a necessity in your life. Were you really his angel? Or was he yours? A violent, twisted seraph with wings as black as cold, but a heart as sweet as honey. He was keeping you safe, wrapped in the dark feather of his wings, ready to take the pain for you — he did not matter, your well-being did.

Without uttering a single word, you almost tackled him with a hug. An embrace so fierce he fell backward, his back gently hitting the ground. Both surprised and endeared, Arthur could not help but chuckle before welcoming you in his arms.

“I am so lucky to have you…” You whispered, burying your nose in his neck. His perfume, musky and manly, lulled your insecurities and wrapped you in a blissful haze.

“I promise you’ll have me forever, love.”

Arthur was caressing your back, and sometimes he laid a kiss on your head as if his lips could not stay away from you for too long. Which was certainly the case. After a while, he caught sight of a red flower at the corner of his eye. The only flower that had grown here, among the weed and the fallen leaves.

“Look, Angel.”

You raised your head at his voice, curiously gazing at what he wanted to show you. When you noticed it was a red poppy, you looked at Arthur with a slightly confused gleam in your eyes. After all, poppies were not scarce flowers. Yet, Arthur’s iris shone with fascination and unexplainable joy. His lips had stretched in an innocent and almost childish smile, the first since years. The kind of smile Miss Changretta had been talking about. The way his face enlightened and his traits relaxed made you sink a little deeper for him. With the tips of his fingers, Arthur picked up the poppy and shifted his full attention back to you.

“In Flander fields, the poppies blow…”

He started, slipping the flower in your hair. Its blood-red petals, exposing the poppy’s black heart, contrasted with the whiteness of your hair just like a drop of blood in a desert of snow.

“Between the crosses, row and row,

That mark our place, and in the sky

The larks still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the gun below.”

You closed your eyes, your soul carried away by Arthur’s low and hoarse voice as well as the steady melody of his heart beating. He let his long and thin fingers lose themselves in your hair as he kept reciting the poem he liked so much.

“We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

 Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

 In Flanders fields.”

With your free hand, you brushed the flower’s petals. Their soft texture awaked your sense. While you did so, Arthur’s free hand pressed on your lower back to bring your hips closer to his. He did not want to leave any space between your two bodies.

“Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.”

When he finished the last line, Arthur reached for your chin and raised your head until your lips grazed against each other, “From blood, we will grow love.” He whispered, his warm breath melting in yours.

“From blood, we will grow.” You repeated.

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

[orionlancasterr]

15 lines of dialogue

I was tagged by @adelaidedrubman and @8bitpizzacoupons I am also suuuper late so i'm not gonna tag anyone myself lmao

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture their character/personality/vibe. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well.

Noose

“Gob were you ghoulified by a direct nuclear blast or by gradual exposure? I was talking to Moira and she said that those were the two ways to become a ghoul but I found a government study in the national archives about how they were trying to make ghouls before the war because they thought that they would survive the bombs better but since ghouls are sterile it wasn’t much of a good option so they only made a few of them and- Gob are you a pre-war ghoul? I mean it’s unlikely but I’m taking notes because I heard that there was a doctor in necropolis who studies ghouls and- oh sorry.”

“Oh my god Rust is gonna love you guys, she’s a total nerd, I think she’s read the user manuals for the T-45’s like a million times.”

“Vault 87 is actually kind of interesting because from what I read it wasn’t even originally supposed to be a research site but I couldn’t find any records on what the original experiment was supposed to be despite the fact that it was changed last minute…and of course it’s awful that its right behind your town of course and the super mutants have been killing your people for years, right. Sorry.”

“I’ll come find you in Bigtown in few years, promise.”

“Jesus, RJ is running a whole town by himself and you wont let me leave Megaton without what, an armed body guard? I’ve been shot, stabbed and blown up just this month alone and I’m still standing. I can handle myself.” (They are 13)

“Feel like a big man, killing a kid for a poker chip?”

“Just my fucking luck.”

“You’re a smart guy Arcade what do you think happened- OW Shit!”

“We’re gonna walk right on in together and see just how much your legionnaires care about you.”

“The NCR, the Legion, House they’re all the same and you’re too stubborn to even see it! All these people want is control, they don’t care about any one person, hell at least the legion is transparent about it. I mean do you think if you kill enough kids and old women that Kimball will come all the way from Shady Sands to personally suck your dick, Boone? What did you think would happen? I’m fucking talking to you, asshole!”

“Kill yourself.” 12 “I read about this place once, in the DC Library. It was supposed to be a top tier resort for a bunch of rich people. I don’t think it ever opened before the bombs fell.”

“I wanted to be an archivist when I was a kid. I loved collecting information like you love collecting spare parts…I wonder if we’d have met when we were little, if we’d grown up together if we’d have worked out.”

“Who did you say you were waiting on? MacCready? Like, RJ? From Little Lamplight?”

“I’m tired.”

[arcielee]

Interview With a Writer

Thank you @2kmps for helping me continue this series and giving us some insight into the brilliant process that created this piece!

As always, here is the masterlist to my Interview With a Writer series and the other talented individuals who allow me to continue this self-indulgent series! 💜

Name: 2kmps

Story: Opaque

Paring: OC android x reader

Warnings: 18+ mature themes. Be mindful of warnings.

Where did the idea for Opaque come from?

So, like a lot of my ideas, writing an android x reader story was on my eventual "to write" that just ended up prioritized because of the rise in AI and the anti-abortion laws passed in the US. Even in original concepts, Opaque was always meant to be scathing, uncomfortable social commentary and a bleak, sci-fi interpretation of a future where autonomy and privacy just simply don't exist.

People have lost the ability for emotional connection and now seek it in the form of androids. The story has always been big ideas that I felt I could never articulate until I actually tried. I stand behind calling it my best work to date.

Can you share about your method to the madness?

So, my writing process is... a little bit everywhere.

Typically, I decide to pick up a project because I've accumulated a handful of "main plot points" that are coherent enough to build something out of them. Once that happens, I'll start outlining the story which can be a terribly chaotic process. I usually wind up with three rewritten outlines as opposed to multiple story drafts. My outlines are painstakingly detailed so that I don't forget any important areas to cover in a piece. Following that comes the "concept pieces" wherein I take the overall theme of the story, or one particular plot point and write it out to see how it feels, if it inspires anything, how it's received. The actual writing starts after that and usually takes me at minimum, a month, usually more if the story idea is complex.

A lot of times I'll rework ideas from my outline into something else entirely in the final piece because writing is just that way. I write and edit completely from the "first draft" and have proofreaders to, ah, help me clean house because my writing before being polished tends to be everywhere.

Were you already aware of how it was going to end?

Yes and no. No, because there have been multiple endings that outlined and rewrote and over and over. Yes, because all of those endings were extremely similar to one another and what exists now is an amalgam of all of them together. To me, it represents someone waking up for the first time in their life, and sometimes it takes the sort of journey and final outcome for that to happen.

But, of course, I firmly believe in "death of the author", so however a reader interprets the ending is also accurate.

Was there anything in specific that inspired your Reader portrayal?

The only specific that I had for the reader-character we was that they were DEFINITELY a part of the world that they exist in. I didn't want to create a reader-character who was the exception, but rather could fade away into the crowd. I wanted them to become the exception through the events that happen in the story. And, even by the end, you're left wondering exactly how much they can be set apart from the society in which they were raised.

Can you explain your inspiration for Researcher Kim? What was it that drives Kim? And what made him decide of Reader to become the next auditor?

Researcher Kim chose the reader-character to be an auditor because he knew that they were in a precarious situation and falsifying information on their resume. In this world, to do such a thing will earn you a "strike" on your public profile, which is the only real lifeline you have in this world from being turned into an outcast and forgotten. Researcher Kim banked on the Reader's dishonesty and used it as a means to get full cooperation and devotion to the work he had the Reader to be an auditor.

Can you explain your interpretation of Elio? What drives him to sentience?

Elio is probably one of the most complex characters I've ever written despite being an android. What's important to understand is that Elio is a machine, designed and programmed to be in servitude to humans and comply with whatever request they might have, regardless of what it is. He has always meant to be a foil to the Reader—always meant to ask the hard questions to make the Reader uncomfortable, to start thinking individually. The first few exchanges between them really convey that. However, Elio, himself, says he is superior to his predecessors because of what he is capable of doing. He's able to emulate human emotions in a formerly unprecedented way. He is convincingly humanlike, but still has the habits and mannerisms that really solidify that he's an android.

Whether or not Elio develops "real love" for the Reader by the end is entirely reader interpretation. The ending shows a sort of a selfishness and selflessness that would be too contradictory for any other android. He was driven in the beginning to fulfill his programming, but by the end was driven by a desire to have something belong to only him.

Do you think you would ever write a sequel?

This particular story and set of characters I'm unlikely to revisit outside of brief mentions. But, there is another story that I'd like to write someday within the same world where a reader-character is part of Hyperion staff and winds up in cahoots with a "defected" android hellbent on destroying the conglomerate.

Do you have another WIP in progress?

I have multiple WIPs in progress, honestly. I'm working on a longfic for The Ghoul from Fallout, "Better to Eat Than to Be Eaten", the second half of a Getō Suguru fic, "Persimmon & Ink", and I'm in the early development stages of an original longfic that is sleep paralysis demon x reader titled "Incubus Phenomenon".

Following these, I'll be beginning my neo-western epic "See How the Cat Jumps" which is largely a romance and revenge story. Writing wise, I've got a full plate!

Do you have any stories recently read that you enjoyed on Tumblr or ao3?

A story that I'd love more people to read is "Sepulchral" by @ashestoroses018 on Tumblr. It's a greek mythology inspired romance that's Hades x Reader. In the story, the Reader journeys to the Underworld for their younger brother's soul. This author and I have been best friends in real life for well over ten years now, so her work is special to me. Additionally, I think her writing style is approachable and would resonate with many people

[dingoat]

Tagged by @teacakes1799 thankyoouuu for tagging! :D

3 ships

Ahuska and Thirteen, if it isn't obvious, occupies 95% of my brain at the moment, even if they're more of a 'two idiots discovering responsibility shirking soulmates in one another' kind of ship who are pushing every possible boundary before facing the inevitable fact that their lives are on opposite sides of Imperial design in a very very incompatible way, I love it and I can't stand it. Stop it. They weren't designed to have chemistry with one another by daaaammmn if it's not going to be the death of me

Ahuska and EVERYONE ELSE that she has a (romantic) relationship or friendship or rivalry with I am so very into all of them, special shout outs to Crow (of course, OG storyline one true love and the ship that got me out of the biggest creative funk of my life), to her little Blakk fox who has been the driving force behind sooo much incredible storytime, and to Fynta who I definitely imagine as one of those souls she keeps bumping into in every universe, for better or for worse.

Special shout-out to Jak (mine) and Wylluf (NPC turned PC written by my husband) for THE best slowly built tabletop character relationship I've ever had the joy of experiencing.

First Ship

All my little novice early RP days many many years ago were in the Lion King fandom because, duh, animals are the best and animal stories are what I grew up on- thing is, I was always very much more into the animals-being-animals, natural history, group dynamics, melodrama made out of natural disasters and territory disputes etc, than into actual romantic plots a la Simba and Nala or Todd and Vixey etc etc. The first actual -couple- I can think of where I really got into the personal relationship side of things was with a pair of painted dogs I wrote with one of my oldest ever RP buddies. Mine was the bad boy who got exiled from the pack (I think he killed another dog? For good reason but nobody believed him?) and hers was the sweet girl who... followed him? Ran into him years later? My gosh, I barely remember a detail of the actual story but I remember that period of writing VERY VERY fondly.

Last Song

Spotify tells me it's Ed Sheeran's Celestial. Stupid pokemon song getting me all emotional every time, how dare. Stupid song that's all too easy to daydream about OCs with, how dare.

Currently Reading

I've promised to loan my copy of 'The Little Prince' to somebody but I've realised I absolutely must re-read it before I do, it's one of those books that I am convinced every person needs to read at least once. So I'm partway into that, but it won't take me long. I have quite a stack of books that I'm eager to get into and no idea what I'm going to pick next. (Teacakes, you've made me remember how badly I want to re-acquaint myself with Tamora Pierce, I adored the Wild Magic books when I was in school!)

Last Film

At the cinema? The Fall Guy. Wonderful. So much fun. I'd see it again. Actual last film watched (streaming at home) - X-Men Origins: Wolverine. Aaahahahaha knowing what I know about the universe now vs when that movie first came out, I can now 100% see why so many of my friends were so mad about it

Currently Craving

Lychees. Man what I'd give for a giant bowl of fresh lychees right at this moment.

Non obligational tags go to: @askshivanulegacy @saph-y @queen-scribbles @keldae @mimabeann @tearlessrain