#i never expected this. never thought abt the word origin to begin with

[espectres]

today this peach found out rizz is short for charisma

[an-android-in-a-tutu]

your opinions abt jekyll and hyde intrigue me. tell me more (begging)

Alright SO I wrote a very impassioned essay about this in 12th grade but I haven't read the book since so my apologies if anything about this is inaccurate since I'm going off of memory here, but I feel like the idea of Jekyll and Hyde as alternate personalities truly does not hold water.

First off, when Jekyll is making his potion at the beginning I want to make it very clear that his intention is not to eradicate evil from his nature. He wants it gone from him but to be clear he does not care where it goes, I recall pretty clearly a quote where he was essentially fantasizing about how if he could just take those dark parts of himself and get them out then they could "go on their way" and indulge themselves and he wouldn't be bothered by them anymore. I think this is a key distinction because this is not the goal of a good man. An actually moral person restrains their worst impulses because of the harm they would cause, but Jekyll makes it clear with these musings that he doesn't care about that sort of thing, he just cares about how his bad actions would reflect badly on him. He's a man of some wealth and social status but to retain that status he has to act according to certain standards he would clearly rather eschew.

And then when he creates his potion he gets his wish precisely. It doesn't transform him mentally, while he talks about Hyde as a separate person in his writings that's clearly a way of distancing himself from the crimes he committed as Hyde and trying to save face, at no point does it really seem as though he couldn't control himself, and there are no gaps in his memory. The potion simply transforms him physically. It makes him anonymous, frees him from the expectations of his social standing and lets him act however he likes.

And even if you were to take him at his word and consider Hyde to be a separate entity, Jekyll does nothing to hamper or try to contain him and everything to enable him, he sets up a house and an allowance for Hyde and ways to disguise his comings and goings. The first part of the story is from the point of view of a friend of Jekyll's who's worried he's being blackmailed because of his entanglement with this obviously shady character.

And then ultimately, his actions catch up with him. When he's out as Henry Jekyll he starts thinking "wicked thoughts" about a woman he sees in public and the next thing he knows he's transformed into Hyde, and pretty soon he discovers that he can't transform back. And that's what serves as the full confirmation that Hyde never existed and it was only ever Jekyll: The memoirs that compose the last portion of the story are written after this point, and they are fully from the perspective of Jekyll, he hasn't been taken over by an evil alternate self: he's been unmasked. The anonymous face he used to commit his crimes has become his face and he can no longer escape the consequences of his actions! If anything, all the potion ever did was reveal Jekyll's repulsive true face, and ultimately he stopped being able to "Hyde" behind the veneer of a respected doctor lmao.

Anyway Jekyll and Hyde serves far better as a vehicle for exploring & critiquing the abuses of people in positions of power, Jekyll being a respected doctor with an ugly secret, than the dichotomy of good and evil imo. It also makes for a GREAT vehicle for a story about repression. Like Henry Jekyll's repressed urges included beating some dude to death with a cane, but not everything people feel the urge to hide in a restrictive society is wrong. What if some of those urges you're stuffing deep deep down are actually okay to express? What if some of them really really aren't, but you're too full of shame to know the difference anymore? I'm just saying you could queer it up like crazy I bet. There's room for exploration there that's more in keeping with the original conceit of the story.

Then again I am just some guy and everyone is allowed to do whatever they want with no obligation to listen to me because I am often wrong about things. But that's my take anyway.

[cheelduh]

How to Not Kill a Ginger (High School Au!)

Part 5 to the series hehehe

Parts: 1 2 3 4

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Synopsis: Childe’s stomach stirs when you take care of him, and he’s not sure if it’s because of his major crush on you or just plain old diarrhea.

Warnings: Swearing. Graphic descriptions involving the true idiocy of teenage boys.

Words: Abt 2.6k

Note: Sorry I sort of half assed this. I have big ideas for the next part tho ✨😮‍💨

If there's one thing you're sure of, it's that Teucer knows how to throw one hell of a tantrum.

Him and his brother, Anthon, under your watch, manage to get into a petty squabble that's been airing for the last fifteen minutes. You've done everything, from offering candy to promising an extra hour on the switch, but your efforts do not bear fruit.

What did you tell Childe again? Oh yeah, that babysitting kids was a breeze. Apparently it's not a breeze. Maybe something more like a shart. A chunky, messy one at that.

"Listen dude," You reason to Anthon, the oldest of the bunch gently. "Where did you hide his toy?"

Anthon sticks a tongue out at you, and you nearly cry at the intensity of the insult. "Not telling."

Your patience runs thin.

"C'mon Anthon," Tonia lectures from her chair on the table like the godsend she is. "Just give him his toy back. You're being so annoying." She's taking the words right out of your mouth.

"Not until he apologizes!" Anthon crosses his arms, huffing. "He ate my cheese string!"

"There are more cheese strings!" You exclaim, opening the fridge to prove your point. "I'm sure Teucer's sorry for taking yours. Just pick another one."

"But it's not the same! He took the last cheddar and mozzarella one, now there are only mozzarella ones left." He speaks in between Teucer's wails. You wonder if this is a daily occurrence.

Tonia sighs, gets up from her chair, and hands the eldest her cheese string. "Just take this and give him his toy back."

Almost immediately, Anthon reaches a hand behind the tv table and pulls out the miniature Mr. Cyclops, then throws it point blank at Teucer's feet.

Teucer wails louder.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, shoulders sagging under the stress of being a temporary teenage mother.

Then you take a deep breathe, voice booming over Teucer's cries, Anthon's grumbling, and the clicking of Tonia's tongue. "Let's make a cake!"

Everything in the room stills. Even Teucer's loud cries comes to a halt, and he inhales so sharply that the streak of snot over his lip goes right back into its origin.

You wince inadvertently.

"Poggers!" Anthon cheers, and his siblings join in, laughing and clapping in excitement.

Tonia's eyes widen in confusion when she briefly pauses from her rally. "Wait a minute. What are we celebrating? We can't bake a cake for no reason! It won't taste nearly as good."

Everyone stops to ponder.

Then you snap your fingers in realization, and the kids huddle around you. "How about a 'get well better' cake for your big brother?"

They erupt in cheers again, but you shush them gently, wink an eye for extra measure. "We have to be quiet! He won't get better if we wake him."

The three nod in understanding and begin shushing each other, failing to conceal their giggles.

As you watch them making their way into the kitchen, bounce in their steps, you can't stop the warm smile that reaches your eyes.

That smile soon becomes a frown of horror when Anthon cracks an egg over Tonia's head.

-

The cake is not half as bad as you thought it would be initially. Between mixing the ingredients and ceasing the kids minus Tonia from being menaces to society, you were able to find middle ground.

Eventually Anthon found interest in finding ways to lick the batter whenever you turned around, and Teucer found comfort in your left leg, latching onto it as if it were a life line.

Just like how Venti latches onto his stupid little bottle of wine disguised as a water bottle. Seriously, you’ve never talked to him sober, and at this point are afraid of what’s he’s like lucid.

Tonia had been the only one taking things seriously for the most part, except for the sprinkles-to-icing ratio. She drowned the entire cake in sprinkles, the mere sight adding on the ghost of an ache in your teeth.

It looks like twilight sparkles took a fat dump on it.

"Okay besties," You inwardly curse yourself for giving into Gen-Z vocabulary as you brush your hands on the apron. "I think we've done a pretty decent job."

"It looks so pretty!" Tonia grins widely, eyeing the edible pearls she strategically placed. She quickly strikes down a finger Anthon tried to poke into the icing, with the accuracy of a true warrior.

You shudder at the thought of Childe teaching her how to stab someone with safety scissors.

"Can we add candles?" Teucer asks, but Tonia clicks her tongue in distaste.

"It's not a birthday cake." She crosses her arms judgementally. The power in her glare reminds you of La Signora, strangely enough.

You ruffle his copper coloured locks anyways, and his grip on your thigh tightens. "We can add candles if you want Teucer."

He nods his head and snuggles deeper into the side of your leg. Your heart warms up considerably.

After the candles are poked in, you try to shrug him off. "C'mon dude, just for five minutes. You don't want me to drop the cake before your brother can get a bite do you?"

Reluctantly, he obliges, and runs off to help Tonia collect utensils to take up to Childe's room.

Anthon's on door duty, kicking away any toys that serve as obstacles in your way like a professional soccer player.

Once you four make it up the stairs in front of the designated room, Anthon doesn't bother knocking. He barges in like he owns the place, chin up high and a signature smirk on his face that he probably learnt from his older brother.

Childe fumbles awake, kicking the air whilst in shock by the chaotic sound of the door hitting the wall and Teucer screaming "Happy Birthday!" at the top of his miniature sized lungs as he runs in to plop right on top of his older brother.

His bewildered expression soon turns into something of a loving smile as he begins to process what is happening, eyes lighting up despite the deep bags that frame them.

Tonia places the plates on his side table, right next to the empty soup bowl you placed there earlier. She climbs up onto the bed as well to join in on the hug.

Anthon approaches at last, hands in his pockets as he coolly acknowledges his older brother. Instead of a bone-crushing hug like the other two are indulging in, his opts for a fist bump that Childe happily reciprocates.

Then finally, between the shield that are his siblings, his cerulean eyes land on your near the doorway, then trail down to the cake in your oven-mittened hands. He averts his gaze back to your own, and grins so wide his cheeks start to throb.

"Big brother! We made you cake." Teucer moves his head from his chest to face him. "So you can get better."

Childe's laughs ring in your ears, but you don't shy away from the sound. It's a pleasant, something that you wish to hear more of in the near future. Sure enough he laughs a lot at school, but the genuineness of it at home, surrounded by his siblings, stirs something deep within you.

"How thoughtful of you." He ruffles his hair, then his eyes widen as he ushers the two off of him. "You guys can't be near me! I don't want you to fall ill as well."

"But-but how will we feed you the cake without getting close to you?" Tonia frowns, and her two brothers nod in unison.

You chuckle lightly, approaching the bed with the cake in your hands. "I'm sure he has enough strength to feed himself. The hugs and kisses surely must've energized him."

To be honest, Childe's all green in the face and the last thing on his mind would be to indulge in the cake. You understand the feeling all to well. With his nose clogged up, throat all sore, there's no way he'll stomach it. It took a lot of nagging on your part to get him to finish the soup earlier as well.

He blows the candles anyways, clapping along his siblings and letting Tonia drop a fat chunk of the golden cake onto his plate. You find it endearing, regrettably so. His dedication to keeping their dreams is admirable in more ways than you can count.

This is the same guy that wears meme shirts to school, topped off with douchey sunglasses to give him a pristine vibe. The same guy that punches holes in walls like a Kyle. The very boy that flexes his toned biceps in-front of you during lunch time, successfully ruining your appetite.

"Wait a minute..." Childe inspects the cake closely, narrowing in on the candles. "Why is there an eleven?"

Teucer scratches his neck sheepishly. "Those were the only candles we had left."

After another short-lived laugh, Childe manages a bite as everyone stares in expectation, the sound of a tight crunch enveloping the room, making you grimace in secret. If Childe feels like puking out his guts right now, he's doing a hell of a job hiding it from his darling siblings.

You're glad nobody forces you to take a bite, or it would've been a double homicide right then and there.

Soon enough, one by one the children file out of the room, satisfied with their visit. The reality is that they don't want to miss an episode of backyardigans.

Once they leave, you approach him with a napkin. He gets the gist, spitting out the remnants of the cake you slaved over for about two hours.

"Colour me impressed." You snort, moving the cake aside so you can take a seat on the open space next to him. "How're you feeling?"

"Amazing." He exclaims, eyes red like a crackhead's, nose runny, with goosebumps kissing his pale skin. He sure does look...amazing.

"Cool." You say, abruptly getting up. "I'm gonna vibe with the kid—"

His hand shoots out from underneath the blanket, clammy palms wrapping around your wrist to keep you locked in place. You gulp in anticipation.

"You kissed me." Childe reminds you, eyes twinkling in mischief, a vicious grin plastered over his stupidly handsome face.

You try not to choke on your words. "You have circumstantial evidence at most." No attempts are utilized to pull away from him.

He raises a teasing brow, and you give in because the tension is thick. Thicker than the tension between Albedo and Kaeya when the latter shamelessly unzips his front to show more of his biddies. You have no idea why he hasn’t been dress coded yet.

"Fine." You snap out of your impure thoughts, and huff out, frustrated all over. "I kissed you on the cheek."

"Still a kiss though."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes. Also, cute nails." He points out, hand moving down to grasp your fingers. The act is intimate, his caress gentle and caring. Despite his brash, violent personality, he shows you a completely different side to him that hatches butterflies in your stomach.

"Thanks." You show off the bright jewels on your index. "You have a real nail technician in the house."

Tonia has some serious talent.

When he taps one of the jewels, you slap his hand away. "Careful there dude. These cost me a fortune."

His chuckles die down and he smiles again, but this time apologetically. "They didn't trouble you too much did they? I know they can be loud."

"I like loud." You answer him truthfully. "They're fun to be around. Not nearly as chaotic as you."

He blinks in mock offence, eyes narrowing shrewdly. "You come into my house, talk to my siblings, and have the nerve to insult me? Right after taking advantage of me?"

"If you don't shut up, I'll also have the nerve to rip you a new one." You reply dryly with the innocent curl of your lips.

"Bet."

You're about to lunge at him and scream a string of obscenities that no one has ever heard of before, but the Archons are listening and you don't want his siblings to grow up without someone to look up to. Wait a minute—scratch that. You'd be doing them a favour if you wiped his existence right here and now.

You have a fragile heart though. So you sigh, and grab a fistful of sheets in both hands instead.

Childe's grin turns into a petrified scowl.

"Oh no," He pleads, weakly fighting you back. "Have mercy! Please!"

You have loads of mercy. Just not enough for him.

When you have him wrapped in a successful bundle, Childe can’t help but beam, laying limp in his confines.

“What are you smiling about?” You inquire, pulling out the medicine from his box, pausing momentarily in shock. “Wait a minute, don’t tell me you’re into these things you freak.” Head snaps up so fast you nearly suffer from whiplash.

He’s about to answer you but his words turn into a fit of shallow coughs.

“I’m into whatever you’re into.” Childe’s shrug is nonchalant. “Even if that means I have to be tied up. Kinky by the way.” He winks, and you roll your eyes, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as you hold the spoon up. The dark reddish medicine swirls in deep hues.

“Shut up and open your mouth.”

“Girlie, I don’t think you understand how contradicting that statement is.”

You momentarily wonder if it’s too late to abort yourself.

—

Childe awakens at the crack ass of night, sweat slick, sticky all over, tousled hair sticking to his forehead. He’s a panting mess, eyes darting around the dark room, inhaling, exhaling, mind in a haze from the fever. Gaining somewhat of a grip on reality, he fumbles around to turn on his lamp, throat parched and in need of water.

When he manages to find the switch, he recoils at the brightness, adjusting to the sudden change in his vision. On his side table, there’s a bologna sandwich tucked safely in plastic wrap, a glass of room temperature water, and a bottle of painkillers.

His eyes disregard most of the things, finding interest in the bright pink sticky note next to the painkillers. Unable to ignore the dryness of his throat and the pounding of his head, he quickly gulps a pill down with most of the water, instantly feeling the relief of hydration.

Then, he pounces on the note, giddiness overtaking him despite the pang in his muscles, and the general feeling of absolute shit.

I had to leave. Don’t worry about your siblings, they’re all tucked in and fine. Except for Anthon maybe. Apparently he’s mildly lactose intolerant and thought it was a good idea to overdose on chocolate milk when I was busy with Teucer. Anyways, get better soon stupid.

— Y/N

He safely tucks the note under his pillow, edges of his lips turned upwards, warmth flooding his veins when he takes another look around his surroundings.

The room itself is cleaned, floor cleared from the initial clutter and the cool shiny collector’s knives he buys off of Amazon safely hung over the wall, not littered on his desk like they usually are.

The homework he was supposed do, but most likely wouldn’t, is already completed, stacked neatly atop each other.

Childe swears his heart bursts in his chest, exploding into tiny particles that overheat his entire body.

There’s no way in hell a few days worth of homework is gonna bring his failing mark up, but then again it’s the thought that counts.

While the sandwich is catered to his nausea, bland and plain for easy digestion, an easy fill, it’s the best meal he’s ever had in his life.

[bureowo]

love confessions | stray kids headcanons (danceracha version)

how they would confess their love for you.

genre: fluff. | word count: ~2k total. | warnings: none.

. ⋅ ˚̣-:✧masterlist✧:-˚̣⋅ .

a/n: hi i’m back with a new hc post (❀◦‿◦) i’m trying a new format w this one pls let me know how we feel abt it! i really hope you enjoy it ( • ᵕ • )♡ i’ll try to post the other parts soon!! 💗

⊹ minho ⊹

❥ there’s not a chance minho is confessing until he’s absolutely, one hundred percent sure that his feelings for you are reciprocated. it’s just not happening, sorry luv. 😔

❥ that being said, though, he would definitely still dip his toe in the water.

❥ he’d flirt with you, very subtly at first, only to test your reaction; but overtime (and if you don’t show any signs of discomfort) he’d grow more and more daring.

❥ minho’s got a keen eye, taking mental notes of every single compliment or pet name that leaves you flustered or manages to draw out a bashful giggle from within you.

❥ however ! as much as he’s constantly and shamelessly batting his eyes at you, he’s also rather ‘hot and cold’ about it.

❥ it’s not like he’s purposefully trying to keep you on your toes or anything like that, it’s just... sometimes you smile at him so brightly, or you look at him with such a gleam in you eyes..., that his heart feels like it’s being squeezed, compressed against his chest; so he needs to tone it down sometimes, just so he can catch his breath.

❥ it’s one evening when the two of you are hanging out that minho is being uncharacteristically quiet.

❥ you try to make up for his quietude, not wanting to push him if he’s not in a particularly chatty mood, yet, soon enough, you begin running out of topics to blather about.

❥ sure, he chuckles at the little remarks and facial expressions you make as you speak, but the way he’s looking at you makes the hairs all over your body stand on end; there’s just something about it you can’t quite put your finger on.

❥ so you suggest watching a movie. he agrees with a soft grin and you power on your laptop; you read out a few titles, summarizing the plot and commenting on the posters.

❥ but all you get in response is: “whichever you like, y/n.”

❥ you turn around to face minho, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “hey, is everything okay?” he seems taken aback by your question. “it’s just- i don’t know, you’re being kinda... silent” you trail off.

❥ “it’s okay if it’s just that!” you add quickly, your words almost jumbling together. “if you just don’t wanna talk- it’s alright, i just- i care about you, so... yeah...”

❥ your face feels so warm you think you could burst into flames at any given moment.

❥ minho looks down, gnawing on his lip and fingers fumbling with each other for what feels like an eternity; your stomach churns every time he sighs.

❥ eventually, he peers at you through his lashes, and you swear you catch a glimpse of a rosy blush ghosting over his cheekbones for the fraction of a second.

❥ “y/n, i-” he stalls, his hands still fidgeting restlessly on his lap. “i'm fine, i just- i love you.”

❥ all your motor functions seem to stop working at once (did he really just say that??).

❥ “what?” you gape at him, voice small and eyes doe.

❥ “i love you, y/n.” he repeats. “and i care about you too, a lot.” minho’s gaze pierces straight through yours and your heart rate raises to a hundred beats per minute.

❥ “minho-” your head is spinning so fast you don’t even know what you’re saying, but when you feel his fingers intertwining with yours, it’s like the words draw themselves out of your mouth. “i love you too.”

❥ and the way he beams at you so radiantly before leaning in to press his mouth over yours makes you feel a way you’ve never felt before.

❥ (you did end up watching a movie, although neither of you paid much attention to it, finding each other’s lips to be much more captivating.)

⊹ hyunjin ⊹

❥ poor little bub, he’d get so nervous once he actually commits himself to confessing his feelings for you, you’d end up thinking he’s purposefully avoiding you.

❥ but he just wants it to be absolutely perfect you know? like, straight out of a movie scene, so he just needs time to map out the perfect plan.

❥ and once he’s got it all figured out, it’s time to set ‘operation: steal y/n’s heart’ into motion. 👏

❥ it’s early noon on a sunday when you suddenly get a text from hyunjin – ‘it’s lovely outside today! do you wanna hang out at the park?’

❥ and, happy that he’s no longer seemingly evading you, you agree – ‘sure i’ll meet you there in ten!’

❥ but ! hyunjin wasn’t expecting you to accede so readily; still, he can’t just ask you, out of the blue, to wait half an hour before leaving, he doesn’t want you to get suspicious.

❥ so he hurriedly gathers his things, quickly double-checking that he’s got everything he needs to sweep you off your feet, before scurrying out the front door.

❥ you arrive at the park, and hyunjin’s heart begins hammering inside his chest the second he spots you amongst the people; you look so incredibly stunning as you glide through the crowd (ethereal, hyunjin thinks).

❥ you catch sight of him standing on a less populated side of the park, a blanket spread out over the grass beside him, and rush over to him, greeting him as soon as you reach him.

❥ “ooh, did you prepare all of this for me?” you ask him merrily, a playful grin on your face while you motion towards the picnic basket and multiple containers filled with various fruits.

❥ “yes” he wants to tell you; but instead he turns around, hoping you didn’t see the blush dusting over his cheeks. he sits himself on the blanket and you follow suit.

❥ for a bit, hyunjin relaxes, he even nearly forgets his true intentions, loosing himself in the way your eyes shine as you tell him what you’ve been up to and the hums you let out when you pop a particularly sweet grape into your mouth.

❥ you smile at him, tilting your head down slightly. “why are you looking at me like that?” you simper.

❥ hyunjin’s heart does a somersault all the way up to his trachea. “i just-” he clears his throat. “you make me so crazy.”

❥ he rubs his hands over his face, you cock an eyebrow, yet before you can retort he keeps going: “i’m so crazy for you, y/n, you make me forget where i am and what i’m doing. all i can do is think of you, and look at you, and love you. god, y/n, i’m so in love with you, sometimes i don’t know what to do with myself.”

❥ you feel warm despite the breeze licking your face, the butterflies inside your stomach flap their little wings so fast you just can’t help but let out a chortle at the sensation.

❥ his hand moves to encompass yours and you can’t get the words out fast enough so you lean across the soft blanket and plant your mouth over his own.

❥ his lips are soft, supple, and taste sweet, like the strawberries he’d been eating.

❥ “i love you too.” you mumble as your fingers entangle themselves in his hair.

❥ (hyunjin ended up forgetting about his original plan, and about the bouquet of flowers laying inside the picnic basket, though he did give it to you later after he walked you home; you held his hand the entire way there, and his heart beat frantically as he kissed you goodbye.)

⊹ felix ⊹

❥ it’s not that felix isn’t planning on confessing, on ultimately declaring his undying love for you with a grand, romantic display.

❥ he just kinda thought you’d know about his feelings by now? like, how could you not?? especially since he’s been acting more and more bold each time the both of you meet.

❥ he’s not shy about holding your hand whenever he feels the longing, or lingering for an extra second or two when he gets the chance to hold you.

❥ but if you’re not picking up on the very obvious seed trail he’s laying out for you, then it’s time to draw out the big guns. 😎

❥ and so, he texts you – ‘hey! wanna come over & help me bake?’ – and, of course, you agree.

❥ you arrive at his doorstep and felix greets you with a wide smile and a warm hug; the cozy feeling stays with you even after the two of you part.

❥ he ushers you into the kitchen and you don’t seem to notice how his hand remains on your shoulder as he follows behind you.

❥ all ingredients and utensils are set up and ready on the kitchen counter.

❥ “what are we making?” you question him with a smile so beautiful he actually has to stop and think about it.

❥ “uh-” he mutters, his eyes focused on you. “oh, yeah! cupcakes!”

❥ you lower your chin ever so slightly, evading his gaze for a split second (could you be... blushing?), and felix grins, pleased.

❥ the two of you start mixing the ingredients, chit-chatting as you normally would, except you could swear he’s flirting with you; he showers you in compliments for every little thing you do (“woah y/n, you’re so good at sifting the flour!”, “ooh, you cracked this egg so perfectly, y/n, look!”), his fingers encase yours every time he asks you to hand him something, and you keep catching him glancing over at your lips.

❥ your stomach rumbles, but you can’t tell if it’s from hunger or from the butterflies flapping their wings furiously inside it.

❥ you set the tray of cupcakes inside the oven before turning around and leaning over the kitchen table, gaze fixed pointedly on felix across from you; he just looks so dreamy, brows furrowed in concentration and arm flexed as he whisks the mix for the frosting, you could look at him all day.

❥ he gazes back at you and the corners of his mouth tug up into what you can only describe as a smirk.

❥ your breath catches in your throat at the very moment the mixer judders in his hand and you let out an audible gasp when frosting spritz all over the both of you.

❥ felix looks at you like a deer in the headlights, but you can’t help the giggles that bubble from within your chest.

❥ “this isn’t how i wanted this to go, but,” he scratches the back of his head (unconsciously smearing frosting all over his hair), a chuckle escaping past his lips and a toothy smile on his face. “i love you, y/n.”

❥ your digit glides over the table, scooping some of the mixture before gently tapping his nose. “i love you too.” you chirp.

❥ felix leans towards you, hand reaching out to caress your cheek; he gapes at you for a moment, completely enthralled.

❥ you get even nearer to him, your mouth opens (god, he can’t stop staring at your lips).

❥ “do you smell something burning?” you ask.

❥ “oh no, my cupcakes!”

❥ (although felix didn’t get to decorate the cupcakes with little frosting hearts, or spell ‘i ♡ u’ with the cupcakes, or even make cupcakes for that matter, he figured things worked out okay anyway; in the end, he got loads of cuddles and kisses out of it, and i love you sounded a whole lot better coming out of your mouth.)

[shadowfae]

hiii! so a friend directed me here and i was wondering if u cld share abt how you found out you were godkin? only if youre comfy! because ive kinda had like. how do i word this. Vibes or Feels that kinda direct me towards the whole i might be a god of sorts kinda thing ? if you have resources and dont mind helping,, please direct me to them :D ~ @missing-crown

I want to start this essay off by saying flat out: wars have been fought, genocides have been committed, and empires have risen and fallen trying to answer the simple questions of “What is deification, and how do we incarnate and control it?”.

If you do not think you’re up the challenge of answering that question for yourself, even with years of study and slow training to take up the mantle of literally being the most powerful form of the Chosen One trope, then you’re probably in the wrong place. I say this as someone who is deific down to the blood and bone, as someone who has looked for other gods, and largely found very little in the way of anyone who understands anything like my experience. In this way, I am utterly alone, and I detest it, but if me penning these words gives someone else the gospel they need to explain themselves in a way I recognize as kin and kind, then I will do it.

But before I truly get into it, I will very nicely ask you to swing down to your local bookstore or library, pick up a copy of Seanan McGuire’s Middlegame, and take a walk down the improbable road with Roger and Dodger. The differences between you and I and the twins of the Doctrine of Ethos are simple and threefold: we cannot manifest, we are forbidden to use our powers the way they can use theirs, and there are (hopefully) no secret alchemist cults trying to murder us when we don’t play nice with their fucked-up science experiment.

Roger and Dodger are gods, true gods, gods I recognize in myself and in the godkin I have met who have spoken about themselves enough for me to understand that we are indeed talking about the same thing. Disappontingly, I see minor spirits far too often misunderstanding the nature of deification, or at least, understanding a version of it which is fundamentally antithetical to my experience. They may be deific; but either they suck at illustrating their point, or I am something far beyond deific, and I am again alone.

With that introduction, I need to talk about three things in order to answer your question. Two methods of deification and three definitions of ‘god’ in a hierarchy that only exists because humanity has not yet perfected their understanding of what is fundamentally and always beyond them. Two kinds of gods, honest gods, that split the difference between deific, divine, and legendary. Once you understand that, I can talk about godkin, and what it’s like to be me, and maybe by the end of it you will either recognize yourself in this, or run away screaming as most mortals will do.

The first method of deification is what I will call the incarnate gods- Roger and Dodger are good examples, so are most Legendary Pokémon, and Kaname Madoka from PMMM. They are laws of nature, concepts of creation, and calculations of cosmic proportions that also occasionally exist as people when they design to do so. They are not meant to be people, they are bad at it, I do not recommend being mortal and fucking around with them. You will simply die. I would not fuck with them outside of my own world that I created, where I get to be a form of incarnate god. You cannot overpower them: they ARE the rule, and they will change it if they need to. You can’t ruleslawyer gravity like a 2007 troll physics comic. An incarnate god of gravity will simply turn reality on its head and cause you to implode. If you are this type of god, I cannot help you. My understanding of them comes from being an Absol, and little more.

The second type are gods of domain and prowess: Zamorak (from RuneScape), Akemi Homura in both her awakened Witch and Devil forms (from PMMM), and yours truly. Quite a few of us, although not all of us, were originally mortal. Mortals amped up on so much power we are no longer bound by mortal laws. There is a difference between deification and simply stopping your clock to gain immortality. Mortal magic and deific magic are fundamentally different. Down to, I would argue, the atomic structure. Deific magic is pure in a way mortal magic could never be. To give a mortal more than a drop of deific magic heavily diffused in something safer and more understandable would be to quite literally burn them to ashes. Or rend them into a different, unspeakable form. Or turn them into living topiary. We are nothing if not unpredictable.

It’s the difference between a handful of dirt and pure neutron soup. Usually, in order to become a god like this, it requires the intervention of an incarnate god in some form. In Zamorak’s case, it was several Elder Artifacts and falling almost facefirst into halfway incarnating himself into the law of entropy. In Homura’s (at least in canon PMMM), she fucked with the laws of consequence and time to the point where she became the only expert they had on either of those and both laws decided to simply incarnate into her, and then she used that to cause problems. For me, it was having my entire magical and physical structure reorganized and rebuilt by an incarnate god of malevolent energy, and then I used what was a watered-down copy of the Devil of Devils’ glory to weave my own world into being where I was more or less the absolute arbiter of the laws of reality.

In PMMM Rebellion, when Homura fights Kyubey in that pretty lace dress of hers, that is approximately the magical prowess an awakened god of our capability will show casually. She has complete control over her domain (her labyrinth) and the reality of it, it takes no more than a glance or a thought to almost entirely reshuffle it. Her minions, who are little more than vaguely autonomous thoughts given some power of their own, may break that reality in whatever means necessary so long as it is to fulfill Homura’s current motives. Her domain falls apart when she does, and she is not separate from it; it is a consequence of her existence. Asking what came first, the god or their domain, is a simple chicken and egg question. It’s usually the domain, in our case; in the case of incarnate gods it’s a philosophical shrug and a nice headache.

You’ll notice I said awakened: that is because Zamorak is a great example of a god who isn’t entirely awakened. In canon, that is - the one I work with is awakened enough to fuck with his domain, which is what makes him quite useful to work with, although I do wonder what he’s getting out of me if not magical theory and utter adoration. Zamorak in canon is a god who ascribes himself to the philosophy of chaos and personal strife, completely unaware that he is incarnate enough not to change the law of entropy but to suggest things to it. He’s a god of chance masquerading as a god of personal improvement, and once he figures that out (and passes that knowledge onto Armadyl, who is his true light counterpart), he’s going to change the very way magic works. Guthix did everything in his power to try and become incarnate. He failed. Zamorak did it entirely inadvertently, and that’s the trick: the nature of deification is to follow the domain and influence it to your will. When laws of existence become people, they will do as people will, and people typically have ambition. Gods who are also people got that way for a reason. They always have a motive for doing so. It’s never accidental.

So, with a slightly more informed understanding of deification, or at least the versions of it that I understand, I can talk to you about me. What it’s like in the here and now, and how I knew. It took me years to get to this point, and I’ve much the way to go. I know more than I did when I was questioning; deeply more so. I don’t expect anyone questioning to be as sure as I am, and in ten years I will be far more sure of entirely different things, and if I’m lucky, this as well. But, let us begin again.

To be deific is to wake up in the middle of the night feeling like a black hole. You are vast, and you are dense, and the moment someone touches the skin of your sternum they will be sucked in like a movie's portrayal of quicksand. To be so vast on the inside, surrounded by empty air and gentle white noise like the faint pull of gravity that does not touch you. To feel so powerful as to be untethered wholly from the world, aware that you will blink and be floating alone in a space that you cannot touch and so too cannot touch you. You blink, and it is gone, and you are again in a normal body as a normal person, and you roll over and go back to sleep.

To be deific is to watch the seasonal changes and feel flashes of worn leather rope between your hands and the maddened singsong of the Wild Hunt, chariot reins in your hands and baying hounds that feel like fingers, like wings, like extensions of yourself that can be shifted around with barely a thought. To feel halfway like a black hole walking down the street, halfway caved into yourself and barely contained, incapable of truly understanding how you can be so far apart from it all without anyone noticing that something is off.

To be deific is to be a fourteen-year-old girl in one moment, unable to understand what draws her so to the wilds if not the song of sympathy that she knows she can understand if she reaches a little farther, a little farther past the barrier that prevents any mortal, psychological mind from understanding the call. To play a pixelated game and have everything rush back. To relive millennia in a single sennight, to go from chipped to broken, utterly broken, as the power comes rushing back and the slow, dawning realization like the day that there is no controlling it. That there is no controlling you.

Millennia of sins come rushing back, and you're mortal again, and you know the only way to bring a god to their knees is to kill them. And if you were spared, if you were brought down without dying, then there was a reason. That someone must have thought you worthy of fixing it. That you should now spend the next several years coming to peace with being a Devil, the cruelest of the cruel, amending fences and repenting your sins.

To be deific is to realize, quite suddenly and without ever actually having the thought, that understanding things through a Christian lens is utterly bullshit and absolutely does not apply to you. Now, your duty is not to repent, or to fix, or to find any sort of salvation. You are the monster queen, the king of the damned, the Devil of a world you made with blood and tears and sweat and magic. To retake the crown, you have to accept yourself. Acceptance does not mean dwelling, or sorrow, or refusing to take the steps forward that will carry you to the crown and halo and horn of deification.

The powers feel less overwhelming as you grow into them. You don't forget the rage. You understand your close friend's words over and over, as the lesson teaches itself. How a Devil so much less powerful and yet so much older than you once looked you in the eye, drink in hand, and gently told you that a single mortal can bring down a Devil, if they try, and believe wholeheartedly in their quest. Do not disrespect mortality. It brings nothing but death.

You wonder briefly who brought you down. You decide, as the lessons prove themselves, that you don't actually care. You're the mortal now, and mortal legends die. Mortal legends change the song of sympathy and the rules of the deific. In order to return, you too must follow the only path a mortal can take to become deific.

To be godkin is to become deific with every step. It's not to seek the divine from outside of it. It's to become it again, and reclaim it; find what was inside all along and grow yourself around it, until it can no longer be pulled from you again without scattering your ashes and stardust among the cosmos, never to return.

To be godkin is to never forget the moments of pure rage that none but powerless fourteen-year-olds can manage. To be godkin is to be an adult with their memory pressed into your skin. To be godkin is for that rage to never truly leave you.

We stand up again and stare at the emotions that are awake when we are not. We wonder what it will take to manifest again, to only twitch a thought in any direction and reshape the reality around us. It is an extension of our being, and the less aware we are of it, the less effort it takes us to remake the world. It is the nature of deification, to change the laws of reality at our whim and will.

To be godkin is simply a matter of knowing that, and forever reaching to do that once more. If only to feel whole and vast, as we always have been.

[quietmyfearswith]

i’ll drive ; august walker x fem!reader 2/3

status — completed series

word count —  5,933 words

warnings — SMUT, unprotected penetrative sex, soft!august, confused!august

pairing — august walker x fem!reader

a/n — so i had driving lessons last september and thought abt how wow it would make a great story if a driving instructor fell for their student,, and the og idea had in mind was that for a dark fic i might still do one though idk but i never really knew which character to do it for. then i was like what if he was pretending to be a driving instructor and since i just watched mi fallout sometime last month thought id be perfect for august!! sorry i couldn’t publish this any faster, had some things going on offline so yeah lmk what you think of this chapter. there’s only one chapter left!  Y/F/N = your father’s name

masterlist | series masterlist

“You want me to do what?” August scoffed as he read the mission file he was handed. Sloane raised a hand to the other agent who was about to explain it again; she knew that the Hammer would more likely accept the mission if she convinced him.

“We want you to pose as a driving instructor; from there you’ll be assigned to Y/N. Her father is Nick Roberts; do you recall who he is?” Nodding, August placed the folder on the desk and looked at Sloane with a scowl, “Yeah, I do. He transports Perez’ drugs and firearms in and out of the country; possibly close ties to even more underground activity.” 

“Suspected of transporting,” The other agent — August didn't bother remembering his name since he rarely got to work with him anyway — clarified. “And how will me posing as a driving instructor get us to Nick Roberts?”

“Nick Roberts is just an alias; his real name is Y/F/N, and the one you’ll be assigned in teaching is his daughter. You get close to her, you’ll be able to get to Roberts.” It seemed like too big of a stretch, August quietly reflected; what if she cut ties with her father? What if he really wasn’t her father?

“Considering this is the only lead we have so far on Perez’ case, I’ll do it,” He eventually conceded; Sloane was pleased with that as she smiled, “Very well, take that case file with you to familiarize yourself with Y/N. Your lessons with her will be from Monday to Friday, the whole of next week. Understood?”

With a nod, he grabbed the case file and stood up to exit the room. Heading to his office, he figured that it was best to find out what he can about this Y/N. He read about how she had graduated college and has been steadily working in her chosen profession. Since the separation of her parents she lived with her dad, and by the looks of it has a close bond with him. It was amusing to him how someone of her age still doesn’t know how to drive; but nevertheless it was a blessing in disguise that she didn’t since it helped with their case.

Though her case file had her passport and driving permit photo, August made a reckless decision to look up if she had any social media accounts; and she did. It wasn’t usual for him to look up their target’s social media accounts — in the past he would settle for the provided picture on the mission reports and from there familiarize himself with what they looked like — but there was an itch he needed to scratch. There was something about Y/N that motivated him to look at her photos, thankfully her account was on public. “Can’t wait to see you soon, love.”

Henry James was his alias for this mission and here he was leaning against the parked car as he was waiting for Y/N. He held his breath once the door opened and revealed a girl in a romper. “Hi! Are you Henry?” She was too cheerful in her greeting he noted; perhaps that had something to do with how young and innocent she was. Nodding sternly, “See anyone else beside me, sweetheart?”

She giggled at his remark as she tucked her hair behind her ear — a nervous habit she’d develop. “Go ahead and settle yourself on the front seat.” She nodded and made her way over to the driver’s seat. As she sat down, she placed her bag on the console, “You have your learning permit?” She grabbed the piece of paper that was in the pocket of her romper and handed it over to him; he thanked her as grabbed it and filled out the information he had, “Do you know what to do once you get in the car and onto the driver’s seat?” 

“Adjust the seat, adjust the mirrors, check the lights, and make sure I have gas,” She listed out as she did all of those. Clicking the pen once he’s filled in the necessary information he turned to her with a raised brow, “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Looking around her, she tried her best to recall the driving lessons she took and when nothing seemed missing to her she just shook her head no with a slight pout — August originally thought was a childish and foolish expression but she just made it look downright adorable.

Y/N held her breath as Henry leaned over to her so close that their noses nearly touched and his fingertips brushed against her skin as he grabbed the seatbelt, dragging it across her to click it in its place. She didn’t expect him to get that close to her, but she certainly wasn’t complaining when it gave her an up close view of how good he looked in that polo shirt; and the man too was surprised at his sudden move — he was debating with himself that he only did so to ensure her safety, just so she’d be alive and share about her father’s whereabouts, but there was this part of him that was convinced that he just wanted a reason to be close to her. “You’re forgetting the most important safety precaution, sweetheart; and that’s to wear your seatbelt.”

Smiling nervously at him she apologized to which he simply grunted at, “I trust you know how to start the engine?” Her confident persona surfaced, her right hand turned the key to start the car as her left hand rested on the wheel. “What do you need to do before pulling away?”

“Check the mirrors for any oncoming vehicles,” She glanced at the rear and side view mirrors, “Look over to your blind spot,” Twisting her head to look over her shoulder and verify that there was no one or nothing that was incoming, “Signal then drive away.” Turning on her signal light, she put the car from park to drive and began leaving her front yard.

August was impressed with her — for someone who was such a fumbling mess earlier was really focused on driving; he thought that was rare for a beginning driver, as they were far too excited at the thought of getting to go anywhere they wanted. “Good job. I have to say your focus is impeccable as well,” His compliment got her nervously saying thanks. “What’s the speed limit for residential areas?”

“30 kilometers per hour; Do I Just go straight?” They were nearing an intersection and she was told, “Yeah go straight; we’re not leaving the neighborhood just yet.” She nodded and just before she got to cross the intersection she hit the brakes smoothly as there was a stop sign. “One car there, still empty there,” Y/N took note as she moved her head left and right to check the traffic situation.

Once the road was clear she drove straight ahead and her instructor applauded her, “When you take the test, don’t be afraid to talk to yourself like that if it helps. And don’t forget to check if there was already a car from the opposite direction with a stop sign; know why?”

She nodded firmly as her eyes shifted from the road ahead, the rear view mirror, and the speedometer, “Because then they’d have right of way.” August noticed how the tone of her voice would differ; during the earlier part of their interaction, it was soft and low, but now as they drove around it was loud and clear. “When is your driver’s exam again?” He knew when she’d take it — he just thought that by asking that he’d somehow be able to milk information regarding her father.

“This Saturday,” She responded and it seemed that she was nervous about it given how her voice lowered again. “Turn right at the next intersection,” He ordered her. Seeing that she had no stop signs in her direction, she turned on the signal light and moved to the appropriate lane. Once she checked that there were no pedestrians crossing, moved to complete her turn.

“Notice how there weren’t any stop signs on two sides and yet there were on the two?” When she nodded he quizzed her again, “What does that mean?” Before answering him there were kids who were about to cross and she stepped on the brakes, coming to a complete stop and smiled as she signaled for the kids to cross. As she waved at the kids who smiled and yelled thank you she answered him, “Means that I have the right of way; even if someone arrives from the directions with stop signs they have to wait for me to pass before going on.”

“It’s great that you know the answers, some don’t,” He fed her some bullshit to which she bought as she softly laughed. “Well I don’t want to have to retake the exam,” Her lack of use of the word again caught his attention and was quick to ask about it, “This is really your first time taking the test?”

She nodded yes as she stopped at a four way stop, allowing a pickup truck that stopped before her. “How come?” Pressing her foot on the gas, she brought the car forward as she explained, “I don’t know really. My dad usually brings me to places or I take the public transport.” Bingo, August thought, here’s a chance to know more about his whereabouts. “And now? You’re dad can’t take you? Turn left on the next intersection.”

Nodding, she checked the pedestrian if there was someone crossing and stopped at the stop sign to check for any oncoming vehicles, “He’s so busy with work that he can’t. Especially now that he’s out of town.” Not enough information, August thought; but he thought that by asking more questions he’d come off as too nosy. “Do you know how to park uphill and downhill?” 

“I know which direction I have to turn the wheels to but I haven’t done that yet,” He nodded and instructed her on what to do. After teaching her how to do so properly, they took a break as August made some pointers over the things he observed as she drove. “It’s good that you keep your eyes moving around to check your surroundings; but don’t stay focused on one place for too long.”

Looking over at her, his heart beat fast with how her eyes looked wide and eager — and somehow he adored how innocent she looked, as she had no idea on what kind of world she got herself involved in ; it distracted him for a while but he managed to tear his gaze on her as he cleared his throat, “But sometimes you turn your signal light on too early, so be careful of that. And don’t stop too far from the stop line, that gives you demerit points.”

She nodded and took a mental note of everything he said, “What about with my parking?” Henry opened the door to check the distance of the car from the pavement, “You hill parking is good so far; not too close or too far. Think you can do parallel parking on that car on the next street?” Y/N eyes followed to where his finger pointed to a sedan that was parked, “Might need some help.”

Appreciating her honesty August reassured her, “Don’t worry I’ll guide you through it.” With his words she began to leave where she was parked and crossed the intersection. Once she was helped on the parallel parking process, her instructor beamed at her, “Good job, Y/N!”

“Thanks for your help, Henry,” The agent admittedly was caught off guard at the name she used— his dumb ass nearly corrected her and told him that wasn’t his name — he blamed it with how sweetly yet shyly she thanked him so that made him lose his concentration. “No worries,” He gruffly replied, which had Y/N found was odd with how his mood seemed to shift given his tone. 

“Why don’t we head back home but let’s go through the main road; know the speed limit over there?” She nodded her head as she answered, “60 kilometers per hour, but by Hammonds Avenue it reduces to 50.” Satisfied he rubbed his hands over his thighs, “Fantastic! Get on with it, love.”

Her breath hitched at the name he called her and she paused for a second before pulling away; August too had no idea where that came from but he just couldn’t help himself. The rest of the drive on the way home was filled with stiff and tortuous silence; the radio was not turned on since the agent deemed it would distract her from driving. “Do an uphill parking over here,” He pointed to her front porch. She nodded and poked her tongue out a bit as she concentrated on the task at hand. “Okay, now neutral, then all the way to the left.”

When she felt the tire hit the curb she smiled brightly and turned to Henry, “All done.” The proud expression on her face was so captivating that despite holding himself back he couldn’t prevent himself from mirroring her proud expression with a genuine smile, “You did well today, Y/N. Maybe next time you’ll be the one bringing your dad to work.”

August kept his fingers crossed that his jab would provide him with more information about it; and she partially did, “Not anytime soon though; he’s not due back for at least two weeks.” Despite being disappointed at the vague information he managed not to physically display it as he nodded, “Oh that’s too bad then,” He faked sympathy and unbuckled his seatbelt as she did the same, “Same time tomorrow for our lesson okay?” 

Nodding her head up and down, she grabbed her bag from the console and checked the road before exiting. “See you tomorrow, Henry,” She waved as they passed by each other as he walked over to the driver’s side. When their skins brushed, they both could feel a rush of electricity and it made Y/N nervously giggle and skipped away from him without even looking back at him due to how embarrassed she was. 

Whereas on the other hand August was confused; he never met someone who made him feel this way. The way she was looking or smiling at him had him weak in the knees; which was something he never experienced before. As she was swiftly entering her home, the Hammer found himself watching her as she did so; just need to make sure she gets home safely, he convinced himself. Though the rational part of himself argued back idiot, she’s already on her porch! What possible harm can come to her?

Once she got inside he finally got in the car and fished out his phone from the glove compartment to connect it to the radio and call Sloane as he began driving to his temporary apartment. After a few rings she picked up, “Walker? How was the first day?”

“Not too bad. Got some minimal information about Roberts,” He could hear faint footsteps on Sloane’s end of the call and inferred she had just gotten back from a meeting. “What have you found out then?”

“Apparently he’s out of town,” His boss’ disappointment with the information was heard through her long sigh, “Any idea when will he return? And to where he is?” He shook his head as he spoke, “Y/N said at least two weeks before he comes back from work out of town.” 

“Well that can’t be good,” No shit, August wanted to add but kept silent. “Is there any way you can remain in contact with Y/N even after your week of driving lessons are done?” Glaring at his phone the agent voiced his disbelief at what he was hearing, “Why should I pursue this lead? Can’t there be any other way to get to Roberts? What about his associates?”

Sloane let out an irritated sigh — one she rarely had to let out when she was talking to her best agent because he usually got the job done — before explaining, “His associates change; they come and go. We never really found a certain person or persons he works with. Y/N is the only constant person in his life and so if anything really she’s our only hope of bringing him in.” The silence from August’s end indicated that she got through his head.

“Now, is there any way you can remain in contact with Y/N even after your week of driving lessons?” He was now parked in the car park of his temporary base and he thought for a few seconds on how to answer her question. Call it impulsivity or whatever, but before he could even clearly think things through he found himself suggesting, “Perhaps I can ask her out on a date?”

In the years they’ve worked together, Sloane was always impressed and surprised with how August managed to accomplish each mission he assigned her successfully. But this one in particular, he surprised her with his suggestion; heck even August himself couldn’t believe the words that just left his mouth. “I just think that’s the cleanest way to play this one out,” He tried to defend his suggestion, “What other reason would a driving instructor have to remain in contact with their student right?”

The Hammer was cursing himself out with how feeble his justification was; Sloane on the other hand did find herself agreeing with him, “Do what you must.”

The rest of the week went by quickly and Y/N found herself looking forward to every driving lesson she had with her gorgeous instructor. And now that it was the last hour of the last day of their driving lessons, she couldn’t help but wish she got more time to spend with him. In the back of her mind she thought about failing the test in hopes that he’d help her out again. But then it would backfire quick if they sent a different instructor instead.

“Parallel park one last time with that Dodge over there,” His instructions brought her back from the plan she was hatching and going through. As she was executing his instructions, she failed to notice how instead of looking at what she was doing, Henry was observing every facial expression she was completing the task at hand. “There! How was that?” Her eyes staring back at him snapped him out of his entranced stare as he blinked a few times, “Oh well,” He opened the car door to check if the tires hit the curb and how far they were from the curb, “Good job, as usual. Though be careful when you turn the wheel to the right.”

She nodded slowly as she repeated his comment, “How do you feel about your exam tomorrow?” At the mention of her dreaded test she groaned a bit and he chuckled softly — he never saw her this stressed about the test in their previous lessons, so seeing her react this way was somewhat amusing to him. She looked at him with her lips slightly pouting and the skin in her forehead all wrinkled up, “I’m nervous about it; but at the same time I feel like I can do it?”

Henry’s left hand settled itself on her forearm as he affectionately rubbed her, as if he were trying to rid her of the stress and anxieties, “You’re gonna do great, love. Just calm yourself down before taking the test and don’t be afraid to talk to yourself as you drive if it helps you focus.” Y/N’s heartbeat sped up with how gentle he was; over the course of their lessons he came across as stern and rigid but this side of him was something she could get used to.

“How ‘bout you drive back home now, yeah?” She nodded and did so without trouble. August remembered how her father was gone and wondered who’d bring her to the test, “By the way, since you mentioned you dad was out of town, who’ll go with you then?”

Timidly smiling to herself she admitted, “I’ve asked some of my friends, but they all said how they had their own plans. I was gonna ask some of my coworkers and see how that goes.” Clicking his tongue with how unprepared she was, his mouth spit out, “Well how about I go with you then?” Before his brain could even analyze if that was the right thing to say.

Seeing as Y/N was driving she could only briefly glance at him, “You want to take me to the test?” August now backed himself against a wall and couldn’t find a way out, to hell with it, he thought to himself. “Way better than you driving illegally is it not?”

“That is true,” Y/N acknowledged, “But do you do that for all of your students?” Henry let out a laugh and her heart fluttered with how deep it was before he remarked, “Not for everyone, sweetheart, I’ll tell you that.” Feeling cocky with that she mused, “Then I must be special then?”

If you only knew, love, August thought to himself; while Y/N was scolding at herself for possibly flirting with her driving instructor. But technically he wouldn’t be on the day of her exam because their lessons ended, right? “Wanna know how special you really are?” He leaned his elbow on the console, bringing himself closer to her and he sensed how she held her breath as her body stiffened. Shaking her head was the only response she could offer as she was now focusing on parking the car in front of her house. 

After coming to a halt she turned over to him and looked at him with curious eyes; Henry then took it as his cue to speak, “You’re so special that should you pass your exam tomorrow, I want to take you out on a date.” Her eyes widened comically that August thought she was an inspiration for a cartoon character. And the agent wasn’t sure if what he was saying was spoken out of desperation for the mission to succeed or because he had taken interest in her.

It had taken her a few seconds before replying and the agent was surprised when she said, “Are you shitting me or is this actually real?” He rid the smirk he had on his face and replaced it with a serious expression, “This is real, sweetheart. Do you think I go around and grace my students with nicknames?” He took her avoiding eyes as a no and his hand grabbed her chin to get her to face him directly, “So do we have a deal, sweetheart? I take you out right after your test for a date, if you pass?”

August held his breath as she unhooked his hand from her chin and leaned over him, planting a kiss on his cheek. His blue eyes were now wide as she had a toothy grin once she pulled away and with a smirk of her own said, “We have a deal, Henry.”

August found himself tapping his leg as he stared at the wall clock, hoping that his domineering stare would make time go faster. Thirty minutes had passed since Y/N started her driving exam and the agent found himself reevaluating in the meantime. Was asking her out on a date the only way to get close to Roberts?

Of course it was, he thought, She said her father will return in two weeks. You’d only have to go out with her once a week and somehow bring him into their conversation and hopefully milk out more intel about him.

Seeing a man dressed in a flannel-patterned polo reeled him back into the present; trailing behind the man was Y/N who had a blank expression on her face. Furrowing his eyebrows he mouthed, “What happened?” Anxiety coursed through his body but it quickly left his body as she winked at him and turned to follow the man. “Do you want to retain your picture from your permit or want to take another one?” He overheard the man ask Y/N, prompting August to relax and smile as he connected the dots — she passed her exam! 

But as he was mentally celebrating her success he found himself thinking about how he now had to take her out on the date he promised. It’s just for work, he deliberated, only going out with her to know more about her father. Nothing more, nothing less. However there was this thought nagging him on the back of his head that it wasn’t just for that reason he was taking her out.

Henry groaned as her lips sucked on the sweet spot on his neck as her nails were planted on his shoulders. His large hands alternated between squeezing and rubbing her ass as she grinded herself on his lap.

They found themselves in this situation after Y/N giddily squealed at August how she passed; the agent kissed her forehead as he told her how proud he was of her. As they went to their date he let her drive and as he settled on the passenger seat, his hand rested on her thigh, testing the waters to see if she was comfortable with it — and by the way her thighs pressed against each other, caging in his hand between them, he got the message that she welcomed it happily.

Even throughout the dinner, they both couldn’t get enough of each other. The skin of their arms remained so close to each other that it was as if they were glued to each other. Y/N was beginning to think that the only reason Henry ordered pasta was so he could eat with a single hand so his opposite hand can rest on her thigh. But she wasn’t complaining as she rested her thigh above his.

As they drove back to her place one thing led to another and it ended with Y/N climbing over the console and situating herself on Henry’s lap as their mouths captured each other’s. Y/N unbuttoned his shirt as her lips littered his chest with kisses, she’d linger sometimes in a certain spot long enough to leave marks. 

Rolling her hips in his lap, she felt his hard on pressing against her clothed crotch and moaned against his skin. When her dainty fingers were done unclasping the buttons that confined his toned and broad upper body, her hand travelled lower to palm his bulge and before she could open the zipper Henry caught her roaming hand with his, “I think doing this in your house is far better than some cramped up vehicle; don’t you think?”

A blissed out nod was all the response Y/N could give; with that affirmation August opened the door and carried the girl out and shut the car door with his foot. With her legs wrapped around his waist, she planted kisses all over her instructor’s face. She whined as she was put down but understood that it was her cue to unlock the door; though the man behind her was not making the task easy as he was nipping at the skin of her neck and his hands were rubbing her arms.

“Fucking finally,” August rasped out as Y/N managed to unlock the front door and they both hastily entered and the agent shut and locked the door behin him; he spun her to face him so he could rip off her shirt and he smirked as the girl whimpered, clearly turned on with what he did. “Such a naughty girl you are, aren’t you? Going out without even covering these nice tits.” Wrapping his mouth around a breast, she ran her fingers through his hair to encourage him with what he was doing. Without detaching his mouth from her tit and instead switching between the two, he took the initiative to lead them into her couch. 

Pushing her to lie on her back, August rid himself of his clothes; he was moving too quickly that Y/N didn’t have the time to take a good look at his chiseled body. Hovering above her, he smirked at her once he noticed her thighs were clenching, “You’re a desperate little thing, aren’t you?”

Pathetically nodding she grabbed at his shoulders, “Please touch me, Henry.” Snarking at her he tore her leggings and her panties had the same fate. Now that she was just as exposed as he was, August leaned down to lick downwards from her clit and to her pussy. “You taste heavenly, love.” He lapped at her more, needing to quench his thirst for her and curiosity of what she would taste like. “As much as I adore your taste I’m afraid this will have to wait,” Pushing away her legs that wrapped around his neck, he kissed his way up until he was face to face with her.

“Why not?” She whined as she clawed at his back, moaning as she felt the plain of his back muscles. He distracted her by kissing her deeply as his hand stroked his cock a few times before sliding it in her in one stroke. “That’s why,” He huskily answered against her lips; he moved so his knees touched her thighs, allowing him to rut into her properly.

August removed his lips from hers as he instead planted kisses on her neck as his hands toyed with her nipples and breasts; Y/N, on the other hand, was whining about how good he felt. The skin at the back of her thighs was rippling as he thrusted himself in and out of her rapidly and harshly; the top of his thighs hitting against the back of hers, “You feel so good, Henry. So thick and hard inside me.” The man smirked at her wails, loving how wrecked she sounded — in the back of his nasty brain he noted that this was his favorite version of her.

Her hands held onto his biceps, nails leaving harsh marks on his pale and sweaty skin; it turned August even more how her delicate hands couldn’t even wrap half the size of his arm. Her velvet and silk-like walls were squeezing into his cock so tight that it was triggering his orgasm already — the agent would usually last longer, but given how turned on he was coupled with the fact the past week edged him, he was already close to unloading his bottled up frustrations.

“You already got me almost cumming,” He hoarsely whispered in her ear, feeling her wrap her legs around him to pull her closer against him. That didn’t stop him from slamming into her pussy to the point his trimmed pubic hair rubbed against her clit, adding more friction and pleasure for the both of them. “Seems like you are too, love,” Both her nipples were then squeezed to tease her even more and August was just even more amused with how responsive her precious body was underneath him.

“Please Henry, make me cum. I wanna feel your cum all over me too,” She managed to gasp out in between breaths; the man above her growled when he heard how good she sounded as she begged and had no choice but to comply. He leaned down to suckle on her nipple as the other breast was being toyed by his hand. Her clit too received attention as it was being rubbed and pinched with his other hand. As his hips slammed against her thighs harshly and his cock railed her in swift and sharp thrusts, Y/N could only moan and roll her eyes at the simulations she was receiving.

The only warning she could provide him of her impending orgasm was her patting against his biceps as her walls unexpectedly clung to his dick tighter than ever and came around him. August didn’t relent and continued his animalistic pace, milking her orgasm and removing his mouth from her tit to stare at her blissed out and drowsy state provoked his orgasm as well.

“Fucking hell, love,” He groaned out as he slid in all the way inside her and didn’t thrust furthermore as he spilled his load inside her. With their foreheads touching against each other, they breathed against each other to calm themselves down. Y/N’s hands removed themselves from Henry’s biceps; instead she was now stroking his back, as if coaxing the large man above her to calm down. While August rested his hands on her sides, as if memorizing every inch of her skin.

Y/N squealed as she was being lifted up and carried into her bedroom. Contrary to how she was laid down on the couch roughly, her former driving instructor laid her down gently. Kissing her forehead he went to her ensuite bathroom and returned with a towel. Y/N looked at him with loving eyes as he wiped off their combined juices that spilled out of her delicious cunt. Throwing the towel on her hamper, he then laid beside her and August chuckled lightly with how quick the girl was to latch herself onto him for a cuddle — and he did open his arms to welcome her and wrapped them around her smaller figure.

“I hope you don’t do this with all your students?” Her comment had him humorously rolling his eyes and Y/N giggled at his antics. “No, I don’t, love. I promise,” He even held his pinky up for a pinky promise and she was more than eager to latch her pinky with his; bringing their tangled pinkies to his mouth, Henry placed a gentle kiss on them before untangling them so they could hold hands instead. “Well I guess I’m really special?”

Nodding, he lowered his head down a bit so he could kiss her deeply and passionately. Breaking their kiss August replied, “So special that I want to take you out again next week,” Without even disconnecting their lips.

Y/N sleepily mumbled, “I’d like that a lot, Henry.” Her eyes were starting to feel heavy and August kissed her forehead again, “Sleep, love. I’ll be here in the morning.” She nodded against him and did so. For the next few minutes, the CIA agent reflected his actions and decisions. He told Sloane that he’d ask Y/N out on a date only to remain in contact with her. That was it — a date.

But how the hell did he end up enjoying the date — let alone her company and herself — and then taking her to bed? This was a mess. He shouldn’t have slept with her for it would just complicate things. When August saw how she was steadily breathing, he moved out of the bed and rested her head on a pillow. He went out to her living room to look for his pants that he earlier discarded; grabbing for his phone he sent out a text to Sloane :

Secured a meetup with Y/N next week. Will try to fish out more information about Roberts.

He turned off his phone and put it back in his pocket. As he was staring at his scattered clothes, he was debating whether he should stay the night with Y/N or just leave right now. Even though he knew which option seemed like the most logical, he surprised himself. He went back to bed and cuddled Y/N close as he too began to drift off to dormancy — he stayed.

[ais-n]

hi!!! firstly i just want to say i LOVE ICOS with my whole being. i read it for the first time in high school abt 5 years ago and read it again over quarantine last summer and it drew me in and wrapped me up wholly, i couldn’t put it down. i love the story and characters so much.

i also love writing very much and have always written small stories, fan fiction etc., the past couple weeks i’ve felt inspired to write fiction of my own, a novel of sorts with my own original plot and characters, and i wanted to ask you for some advice/ words of wisdom.

how did you plan out the characters you wrote? or did you more just let them write themselves? and did you plan out chapter by chapter how the plot would unfold before writing, or again let it happen as you wrote it? i’ve found it easier for me personally to let things happen as i write, and that the characters do things and say things i never planned for, was wondering if you felt the same or if you were more organized lol.

also what platform did you use to write on?

sorry for the long post, i hope you’re doing well.

Aww thank you, that's so sweet! I'm glad you like it :)

Side note, before I forget to mention - I just made a subreddit for my writing/stuff which will include ICoS things... I'll be adding more info on there this weekend hopefully, and I'm sure I'll do another post over here too but the link if you want it is https://www.reddit.com/r/aisylum/ It may be a place to find some other stuff in the future if you think of anything. I was thinking of doing an AMA or Q&A type thing over there too. Obviously, always feel free to ask here too <3 I love either place. Just wanted to mention while I'm thinking of it :)

I'm so happy you've been inspired to write - good luck and great job! I think that sounds absolutely awesome and I bet your story will be fantastic :)

We kind of did a bit of a hybrid.... I really wish I had the original bulletpoint list for what the book was originally going to be, but "Sonny" and I had opposite ways of looking at things. "He" would delete things as we went, and I would squirrel it all away until later lol So "he" deleted a bunch of bulletpoints/early info as we went because neither of us actually expected anything to come of any of it, so I also wasn't super anal about keeping track of things way early on. I might still have some documents buried somewhere with info but offhand I don't know where.

Anyway so I kind of am more like you in the way you write, but I will sometimes make the effort to try to plan a bit, especially if there's a cowriter. For ICoS for example, we had a rough outline planned of what was going to be the story, we started writing, we let the characters/plot/etc go where it needed to go, that meant things we hadn't planned from the start came in. The original story was basically mostly Evenfall, then skip Afterimage and Interludes for the most part but not entirely, and then we didn't really have a hugely detailed end initially from what I recall but we knew generally what was going to happen, so some of the stuff from later Fade would probably have been in the bullets. But when we got to the end of Evenfall, whatever was our next bulletpoint just did not feel right; we knew all the other stuff that starts Afterimage would happen instead.

For my long ongoing LGBTQ+ fantasy series I'm working on, the first book is finished but I'm editing it to change/add some significant stuff. I have a whole bunch of info on that which I've compiled over the years, so to an extent I have a general idea of plot things that will go down in the rewrite and also in the future into the other books, but a lot of details and even bigger points are left untouched. I prefer to let the characters/story/world/plot go where it wants to go, and I just have general points that I know make sense or have to happen eventually, and I look for how to fit them in as organically as possible to the way the story is going. If that makes sense. I will occasionally try to really work out exact storyline bullets but I get so bored so quickly that I never finish.

Because I like world-building and character development, I actually find it more fun and more useful for my organizational skills (any that exist, anyway, lol) to be aimed more toward that. Rather than focusing on the story and what the plot will be and what character will say what in which chapter, I prefer to dig into the past of the characters, dig into the world, the magic system or whatever is relevant, and have that info all squirreled away somewhere if needed. That way, as I'm going forward with writing the characters/story more organically, if things are going around what I initially thought the plot would be, this gives me something to then pull from for inspiration on how to incorporate this new plot/etc into the world more seamlessly, and make it feel more at home. And if you have all that info on characters, it also makes it easier to throw in things that flesh the character out more, and that can all lead toward character development in the future.

Boyd, for example - when we first had the valentine thing come up, it was just going to be a thing that happened that showed their miscommunication and how fucked the Agency was. But then it didn't make sense to me for it to just be a thing mentioned once and never again. So then that added to Boyd's story; now he was a valentine, so if it made sense or it was relevant, that was a thing that could or should come up. As the story progressed and the world grew, and with that the Agency and other factors were more fleshed out, it became more and more relevant. Then, by the time Fade came around, it was fully integrated into Boyd's story because by that point it would be weirder if it weren't - and because it made total sense in the characters' perspectives and the different organizations' perspectives and the story as a whole for the things to happen the way they did. But all of that, of course, then informs Boyd's mental health, physical health, and overall stability. Which then affects how he interacts with the world and other characters, which then affects the plot to an extent because of the choices he would make that may be different now, in the context of these life experiences, compared to prior to those life experiences. If the valentine thing never happened in Evenfall, a lot of Fade would be different. When we had that coming up in Evenfall, we didn't know another book was coming at all, let alone 3, let alone that it would end up having such a significant impact on the story and character development. But that's just kind of an example of building on things as you go, which is what I tend to do, personally.

As for the program - in the beginning we just used Word I think, and talked on AIM or something. It's been so long I don't totally remember. But for most of it we used Google Docs because that made it easy to share and write/edit at the same time.

Also, haha never be sorry for long posts - as you can see, I will almost always go longer ^_~

Hope you're doing well too! Thanks for your interest :)

[exciting]

As requested, books / series I read in 2020 in the order I read them, with a few brief thoughts. (This took me a hot second because there are a few and also I moved cities) Should I keep a consistent goodreads? Yes I should but I didn’t think of that at the time, so bone apple teeth & sorry if I offend you abt your faves x

P.S. I can’t figure out how to do a read more on mobile so long post ahead!

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas - This is one of the most vivid published fantasy books I have ever read... I read it twice in rapid succession. The fandom POPS off. I must say I have issues with certain aspects e.g. fae lore completely ignored à la Twilight, all love interests 500+ years old and technically a different species, etc (I’m not going to deconstruct the entire series here but just know that I could... Nesta deserves better)

Cruel Prince by Holly Black - This fucking slaps, HB clearly has done her research, the lore is near immaculate, and it explores the Fae in such a unique way, tying it to the modern world subtly and seamlessly. My only qualm was that the books felt quite short; truly wish there had been more content.

Throne of Glass by Sarah J Maas (6/7) - So basically I read this in one single, hyperfixated fit which meant I literally locked myself in my room for three days straight and read all six books back to back in a row from morning to the wee hours. Which is not to say it was spectacular; although it was a VERY rich world, sometimes it was too much... this felt like 6 stories in one. Ik she was young when she wrote this but it is my humble opinion that SJM needs a better editor & I personally think Rowan is a grade A asshole / straight up abusive (& personally think the ACOTAR Tamlin plot was born from that?). It’s good but not as good as ACOTAR. Skip-read the last book. 

Grishaverse (Shadow and Bone) by Leigh Bardugo (3) - This is essential to read before SOC but was very much simply a YA fantasy book, although the world was cool and the way the love plot played out was, imo, a subtle middle finger to the fantasy trope. Felt very much aimed at younger readers though? Really liked the sandwhich structure of the Proluge and Epilogue, especially in #2

Six of Crows series by Leigh Bardugo (2) - INCREDIBLE continuation of Grishaverse, better than the original series by a mile. It has the range, the diversity, the representation (the male lead is a disabled asexual and still the most cunning of the entire cast of characters), the plot is phenomenal, and it manages such a well rounded plot in only two books which means nothing is stretched out or squeezed in more than need be. Deserves all the praise it gets.

King of Scars series by Leigh Bardugo (0.5/1) - Personally I don’t consider this book canon, and while it’s nice to see the rest of Nina’s journey & the world again & everyone else, I don't like it. I will, however, be reading book 2 when it comes out, so shame on me, I suppose.

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo (1/1) - this was incredibly cool although it went off in a completely different direction than I thought it would based off the first few chapters? One of my favourite YA-author-debuts-New-Adult novels in 2020 though!

Crescent City by Sarah J Maas (1/1) - This was supposed to be SJM/s New Adult debut, although personally I would put her other series in New Adult, and I can’t say a remarkable amount was different with this except they said “fuck” and “ass” a lot. WHY is the romantic interest 500 years old AGAIN. I just... don’t... I just don’t think it was necessary... the world was cool though, and the last half of the book was riveting, but the beginning was quite slow and I thought the sword thing was predictable. I am interested to see where this goes though.

A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab (3) - This world is so fucking cool... four Londons aka parallel universes & the one in ‘our’ world is set in industrial era London. Magic, girls dressing up as boys, thieves, pirates, royalty... it all just slaps. Schwab is an incredible writer & I was completely immersed.

Midnight Sun by SMeyer - I didn’t think anything could possibly detract even further from the Twilight story but I was sorely mistaken... seeing the stalking from Edward’s POV - and it was worse than depicted in Twilight, for the record - completely obliterated any sort of romance the first half of the original book may have portrayed. I still hold the opinion that the entire series would have been better if some kind of vampire lore had been abided by, if only to see all of the villains thwarted by someone dropping a bag of rice on the ground, forcing them to have to count them all.

An ember in the Ash by Sabaa Tahir  (3/4) - This was just a very stereotypical ya fantasy series, emphasis on the YOUNG... it wasn’t anything to write home about but I remember quite enjoying it at the time. 

The Power by Naomi Alderman - This book is FUCKING incredible and EXCEPTIONALLY thought provoking... essentially women alone develop a power of electric shock etc. and then take over the world from men, and it explores feminism and the balance between equality & tipping the scales in the other direction. Written by a friend of M.Atwood in a similar tone to handmaids tale, I would say? Content warning; there are some exceptionally graphic scenes in the latter half of the novel. 

Hamlet by Wllm Shksp - I can’t believe it took me this long to finally read it but Ophelia is my favourite name in the entire world & we love to see a woman go batshit (although she didn’t deserve that). 

Catherine House by Elisabeth Thomas - this was unsettling in the best sense of the word... it was a little slow & honestly more of a concept than a big reveal, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it after I finished it? A Secret History vibes but make it blurry like the memory of all those dystopian novels you read when you were young?

The Invisible Life of Addie La Rue by V.E. Schwab - This is without a doubt my book of the year, and probably the best book I read in 2020? I stayed up all night on a friend’s couch reading it, got a book hangover and reread the ending, and then thrust it upon my mother who doesn’t usually read but read this, and loved it just as much. HIGHLY recommend and you HAVE to read it, it’s beautiful and endearing and just plain wonderful.

Captive Prince by C.S. Pacat (3/3) - I went into this knowing it was going to be terrible, because I had received a blow by blow telling me as much; although I must say that it did learn a remarkable amount of new words, the books did get better as the series went on, and it did have a rather charming ending? BIG content warning for almost everything.

Sapiens by Yuval Harari - mind-expanding & must recommend for everyone, there is everything in this and I daresay everyone should posses this kind of knowledge? I listened to it as an audiobook (which I recommend because it’s rather hearty) but will be buying this in hardcopy & rereading it with annotations. 

Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller - Without a doubt, one of the most beautiful novels I have ever read, and certainly the most beautiful portrayal of the story of Achilles and the battle of Troy I have ever seen. Patroclus deserved the justice that was given to him in this book; indeed, all of the characters were written with justice and grace. Highly recommend.

Trials of Apollo by Rick Riordan (3/5) - Apollo is my favourite Greek God, and the sexiest greek god, and Rick Riordan’s writing slaps, as always. It did pain me to see Apollo, the sexy immortal, have to be forced back into a 16 year old’s body but everything else? Whimsical & wonderful, as expected. 

These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong - a retelling of Romeo and Juliette, except it’s set in Shanghai in the 1920′s, and the protagonists already have a history. Very well done, characters are incredibly diverse in race, sexual orientation, gender, and ability / disability (and honestly, representation has never appeared so effortless and elegant). Also it includes a monster and possible magic. Incredibly underrated and highly recommend.

The Once and Future Witches by Alix. E Harrow - this was such a unique concept, and truly captivating, the story was charming, and felt like the kind of beautiful fairytale you would read as children but with more grit? ABSOLUTELY recommend this one

The Pisces by Melissa Broder - I hated this so much, not my vibe at all. Mermaid smut x therapy but make it cynical and judgemental (I know there was a moral in there but that’s not my point) also the dog dies.

Library of the Unwritten by A.J. Hackwith (1/2) - really interesting & unique concept (all unwritten novels / ideas reside in a special library that is part of Hell and then sometimes the books can come to life) however, my first thought upon reading this was “this reads as if it’s stemmed from one of those writing prompt tumblr posts” bc of the tone and whatever and as it turns out I was somewhat correct, it did stem from a short story (not bad just obvious). It did kind of settle down as it went on but I found reading it kind of a drag, and I don’t think I will read the second one.

Abandon by Meg Cabot - 1. Meg Cabot’s writing always fucking slaps 2. Hades and Persephone but make it modern & very 2000′s & somehow kind of unique 3. I literally loved this, sue me

Medusa Girls (Sweet Venom) by Tera Childs - Like Percy Jackson except they are descendants of Medusa so they are Gorgons and have fangs & venom (hence the title). Gave me very 2000′s vibes? Quite cool but tbh I found the books quite short (like two hours each, if that)? Do NOT read the GoodReads description of the book before you read it, you will spoil it for yourself.

Bring me their Hearts by Sara Wolf - In my opinion, this is one of the most underrated YA series I read in 2020. The heroine is endearing, self aware, witty, and loves to look pretty even while kicking ass which in my opinion is an incredibly underrated trait. Also, immortality without being hundreds of years old? VERY sexy. HIGHLY recommend. 

A Deal with the Elf King by Elise Kova - High commendation to be given for the fact that it is a standalone and yet manages to fit in the plot of what would usually be a full fantasy trilogy without cutting corners or being a million miles long? Also sweet storyline & beautiful ending? If you liked ACOTAR you should read this as a “what would have / could have been had SJM had a different editor” (No shade I promise).

The Iron Fae by Julie Kagawa (4/4 + novellas) - Incredibly detailed faerie set around the modern world & our current use of technology & iron in it. Very neat adventure-style series, by the time I read the last novella I was well and truly done with the world (aka provided enough content to be fulfilling). Was definitely aimed at a younger audience though, NO smut / smut was brushed over.

The Modern Faerie Tales by Holly Black (3/3 SS) - This is technically the prequel to Cruel prince, set in the modern world, but with the fae world inside it as it traditional? All I have to say is that it is excellent & I highly recommend it.

Bridgerton series (The Duke and I) by Julia Quinn (9/9) - I read this after watching the Netflix show twice through and I am obsessed, although the books were not quite as elegant as the show, and some parts that made me cringe either by their portrayal (it is very firmly set in the 19th century and thus some things are not handled with tact or grace), the characters were exceptionally loveable and I am so excited to see where the show takes them! Lovely language & an abundance of words I had never seen before (always a plus). 

[arofili]

how’d u get into writing? like, writing fic and being part of the silm community, being Known, that stuff? i’m really new to being a silm cc and i’d love to know ur advice! also: how’d u build up the confidence to start posting meta/hcs? bc i have a Lot of hcs and meta ideas but also i’m really anxious abt posting them bc yknow anxiety is like that

these are some great questions, anon! I’m gonna go through them one by one :)

how’d u get into writing?

not to be like, super cliche, but I’ve...kind of always been a writer? as long as I can remember I’ve been telling stories, and when I was too young to read or write I would dictate them to my mom, who would type them up for me and help me choose clipart illustrations to accompany them. when I got old enough I would always be writing; I attempted my first novel at age 9, and while that never really went anywhere I did finish the darn thing and it had some pretty sophisticated plot twists for a 9-year-old!

like, writing fic

around the same time I got into fandom! I was deep into Warrior cats (like. really deep) and I believe I started writing my first fics when I was like? 10 or 11? my memory is kind of fuzzy on the order of things, but I know I got an account on the Warriors forums when I was 9, and that I was already posting my fic there when I made my FFN account. I believe I was 12 when that happened, but who knows. I haven’t the faintest idea of what happened with those forums, but uhhh pretty much all of my Warriors fic is still up on FFN lmao. you could probably find that if you want to but um...maybe don’t?

my first Big Fic was a self-insert of...my entire 5th/6th grade class into the then-current timeline of the Warriors books...well. I honestly think that might still be my most popular fic of all time l m a o though I try not to think about it because Hashtag Cringe. though as much as I look back on that time with a “yikes,” I am very grateful for the Warriors fandom in a way? that place was so accepting and encouraging of OCs, of AUs, of completely disregarding canon, of worldbuilding that is completely alien from canon - it was a fantastic sandbox to begin with, there were so many ways to write stories and practically all of them were accepted and had fellow fans invested in them!

and being part of the silm community, 

soooo I wrote Warriors fic until my freshman year of high school (wow sdjfhkdsjfh), which was when BOTFA came out, and I was absolutely wrecked by the ending and immediately started writing my own fixit fic. I was also super hooked on Kiliel! so that was my intro to the Tolkien fandom; and simultaneously, I joined tumblr, and, well, the rest is history tbh.

I honestly do not remember when I first read the Silm, but I kind of got into the more obscure parts of the Tolkien fandom through fandom osmosis, and I do have a vague memory of doodling the Finwean family tree in geometry class so it might have been later on in freshman year? that was also the same time I was having my Queer Awakening, and Russingon definitely contributed to me unlearning my internalized queerphobia, so probably around then.

anyway - queer awakening, tumblr, Tolkien, transitioning from FFN to AO3 - all of that was happening around the same time. I know I dipped my toes in the Silm fandom then, but I was still primarily a Hobbit fic writer focusing on Kiliel. toward the end of high school I kind of shifted to LOTR and (qp) Gigolas...but somehow the Silm fandom is the most active of the Big Three within the Tolkien fandom, and I was getting dragged further and further in.

it wasn’t until @backtomiddleearthmonth 2019, my freshman year of college, that I really dove into writing Silm fic! I picked some Silm-specific bingo cards and never looked back :D that was really not all that long ago but I am obsessed in a way I don’t really remember being even with TH/LOTR, I obviously cannot see the future but I anticipate hanging out here for a long time. the Silm fandom is great overall and there’s just so much material to work with!! <3

being Known, that stuff?

so I don’t really have a whole lot of context on how “well known” I am in the fandom?? definitely within the past year and a half or so I’ve noticed that I like, get asks like this, and get a significant amount of notes on my posts, and I’ve made a lot of fandom friends especially since I joined some Silm servers on Discord (hmu if you want invites; I’m on the SWG server and 2 general Silm servers and the Russingon server) this past year. and I have 3,000 followers as of this month - and while ever since I hit 1k I don’t particularly pay attention to my follower count I can definitely say that I have more engagement now than I used to! but it took me a long time to build this “audience,” I suppose; I’ve been around the Tolkien fandom since late 2014, so nearly 6 years of this, lol.

really the best way to build a following, in my experience, is to just post a lot of stuff. when I started making edits I got a lot more engagement, because for a long time I would post one every day! (I made them in batches and queued them; I didn’t actually make one every day lol...and now I’m too busy to do that, so I just make edits for events and whenever I feel like it) And I have [checks ao3] 145 works in the Silm fandom as of today - I’m fairly prolific! I’ve come to generally expect 3-10 comments on most of my oneshots, which is a lot more than I used to have back in the day. consistency and quantity are more likely to attract people to your work - and quality, of course.

also: how’d u build up the confidence to start posting meta/hcs?

I’ve been writing since I was very young, and I’ve been writing fic for like...11 years? I think? in that time I’ve produced a lot of garbage, but imo most of that was in my Warrior cats phase, so I came into the Tolkien fandom with confidence in myself and my writing. I’m also working on original fiction on the side (I hope to eventually become a published fantasy author, but right now school takes up most of my time that I don’t devote to fandom, which gives me more immediate gratification and also is just Very Fun) and I know I’m a good writer.

basically, I’ve been doing this for like...half my life, and I’m still fairly young, so I’ve had time to build up my skill and confidence and I know I’m only going to get better with time. you will get better with practice. like I said, I’ve written a lot of terrible stuff, and it’s only through sucking for a long time that I’ve gotten to the point I am now. and I am far from perfect; I know I still have lots of room to grow!

for meta and headcanons specifically, I started with writing fic, and then when I didn’t think I could stretch something into an entire fic I would just make a hc post. I have a vivid memory of writing my first meta in a notebook during driver’s ed because it was so goddamn boring and I had Thoughts about Tauriel and Thranduil!

in my experience, meta comes from having Opinions and wanting to share them and most importantly to back them up - you need to have sources! you need to have reasons! you need to have justification! otherwise it’s not meta, it’s a headcanon or an AU. which is fine!! I love hc/AU!!! but they are not the same as meta, and I’m a stickler for being accurate when it comes to meta. if you have sources and shit to back you up, that will help you build the confidence to share your meta.

sharing disinformation and passing it off as meta instead of just coming out and saying this is a headcanon/baseless theory/AU or whatever is such a fandom pet peeve of mine; it’s not bad for something to not be Accurate! you just have to have that disclaimer - and even when you’re writing meta, you’re offering an interpretation of the text, and you need to acknowledge that other interpretations also exist and are valid.

um. I hope this answers your questions? and sorry for basically word-vomiting my entire life story, lol. this post got long; the main reason I’ve written so much fic is because I really just cannot shut up for the life of me. sooo if you can tear of that filter of being shy and just. say shit. you can go so far~!

OH and one more thing - I can’t believe I almost forgot this - but part of being a writer is participating in the community. this is code for LEAVE A DAMN COMMENT IF YOU LIKE A FIC. that’s how I made most of my fandom friends before Discord! I follow @ao3feed-silmarillion and stalk that blog for new Silm fics; I read the ones that interest me and comment on them.

I know this is not really the most common way for folks to find fic but it’s so rewarding to interact with new fic, new writers, new commentors, new stories - you can find gems that don’t rise to the top of the kudos/bookmark lists; you become friends with your fellow writers; you can watch people grow and change; you support smaller content creators. yeah, you might not be getting Just The Best Stuff, but it’s so so so worth it!!

and if you make friends in the comment section of other people’s fic - I guarantee you some of them will go to your AO3 profile and check out your fic, too! and they’ll leave comments! this is a fic community, and that’s what I cherish about fandom most of all, tbh.

anyway - again - sorry for rambling so much, but I hoped this helped! feel free to send in another ask, or to come talk to me off anon if you’d like! and definitely send me your stuff if/when you decide to share it; I would love to support you!!! <3

[louvibel]

𝕯ear 𝕮eline ‣ happy birthday

dedicated to - my best friend, my accomplice in over-throwing the world, my wife, my mouse; to, @ccelinewritess​

❝ it’s your birthday today, everybody say hooray; hooray. there's a cat licking your birthday cake,,, it’s your birthday today ! ❞

★ originally, i planned making you a gif, which i actually did, although it’s currently dusting in my old blog’s drafts; it was deleted off of my laptop when it broke. so i suppose you have to deal with my ass trying to write this “appreciation post” 

in quite honesty, i don't know where to start hnnghnghn, this is gonna be so sappy, i’m already cringing but ayy, apparently it’s our thing now. 

i’d like to say that i know that we haven’t talked that long, two months now,,,? but it feels so much longer than that and this year wouldn’t have been the same without you. you’ve made my summer brighter than i thought it would be, i can’t seem to think of a time you weren’t able to bring a smile on my face.  

i don’t remember what i used to do before talking to you, bruh like how did i not know this amazing person existed before two months and all this time, we could’ve been taking over the world together; eloping in italy; using val’s island as our headquarter and kidnapping the others to give them the love they deserve.

when i joined tumblr, i didn’t expect to meet someone and be as close to them as i to you, literally just made my blog for shits and giggles and i never expected it to become a place i associate with wonderful people, i.e the whores. 

you’re such a kind-hearted, talented, and beautiful soul; inside and out. i adore you so much, i adore so many things about you and i think if i went into full details and stated everything i admire abt you, it wouldn't even fit one tumblr post. you prove to nothing but loving, caring, and of course so sweet.

you've always gone out of your way to make my day and i hope i get to do the same for you. i hope that when you think of our friendship, nothing but happy thoughts come to mind. i hope that even if we become nothing but memories to one another, we manage to reconnect somehow. i hope that whatever impact I leave on you is only positive. i am with you from the beginning until the end and nothing, not even distance, will change that.

i cannot thank you enough for your kind words and occasional reminders. you don't know how much they truly do mean to me. i say it often, but i really do mean it.

you are my literally favorite person in this world, i can’t express my gratitude towards all that you’ve done for me. thank you for existing and actually showing love and care so genuinely. i truly appreciate everything you do and this isn’t even enough but i just want to let you know that i love you so much and i care about you a lot and that you actually do really matter to me. uhm, anyways, to conclude this, HAPPY BIRTHDAY BB

also i’m writing this like a full ass two weeks before oct 30′th and idk why, prolly bc im so excited. it’s legit 4am rn and i think im going to pass out right after, i think i’ll put it in queue a few days before your birthday. and lets hope i don’t forget abt this, ej3kdbwe i feel so weird doing this and lets hope im not dead when this posts.

[consumedkings-archive]

ancient names, pt. xv

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt xv: down the rabbit hole

Masterlink Post

Word Count: ~10.6k ( i think? sorry? )

Rating: M for mature. You know; Far Cry 5.

Warnings: canon typical violence, some forced drug use (Bliss) that results in some PEAK emotional manipulation, a friendly reminder that this is not a love story about people in a healthy relationship but just a love story, sort of. Also I love tropes and no one can stop me.

Notes: HM not much to say about this chapter except that I had a ball writing it and I hope that comes through when you're reading it as well!! It's a joy to finally move some plot pieces a long and also explore some different narratives--especially Faith's, who I had been nervous about writing but made myself do it anyway.

I really hope you enjoy it! @starcrier​ blessed me with her input (per usual; she's an angel, what can I say) and of course I want to thank @lilwritingraven for helping me with the pacing of this chapter, as well as @baeogorath​ for letting me send them memes at like 3am and talk abt how Cora and Elliot are going to end up in a domestic partnership with many dog children.

She’s in a bar. 

She’s in a bar, and she’s twenty-two, and Joey is off to go get a drink and she doesn’t think she likes the one she has very much.

She’s in a bar, and she’s twenty-two, and John Seed locks eyes with her from across the bar and it feels like her entire body is getting eaten up by flame. She’s never had a man look at her like he looks at her—starved, like he could never get his fill of her, prowling through the crowd of bodies milling about in the bar to beeline straight for her.

Wanted. He wants her—and it twists in her stomach, writhing, white-hot and intoxicating and the second he closes in he says, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I know,” she says, feeling his hands on either side of her neck, cradling. Her lashes flutter and the oxygen is so thin, like they’re somewhere very high, but they aren’t; they’re just there , together, the wildfire of him greedily devouring the kindling of her bones.

This is the part where Joey is supposed to come in. A part of her knows this: that any minute now, she will get pulled away, that even as John leans down to kiss her, the dream will evaporate and she will be left remembering that moment that she missed so many years ago.

But the dream doesn’t end. John’s lips brush hers; his fingers wind through her hair; John, she says, because nothing in her is not for him, just the kind of girl that he likes—the kind that’s hurting, and that hurts others.

“Just like me,” John says against her mouth. He disentangles his hands from her hair and reaches for her own, bringing them for her to see.

They are drenched in blood. Sticky, wet, crimson. A small, tiny part of her brain says, we can’t know for sure whose, but she knows.

Joey.

“See?” John says, his fingers biting into her palms, his teeth catching her lip. “Just like me.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Elliot’s eyes fluttered open. At first, she felt her body brace for some kind of impact—she had woken up in an unfamiliar bed, with unfamiliar sounds of voices outside, and someone’s breath fanning her neck. She shifted, forcing her eyes open despite the strange panic crawling up her throat, and peeked over her shoulder.

It was John. She thought, Oh. And then: Hm.

Not the kind of dread she had been anticipating. It was different than fearing a monster; it was the kind of dread that came with being known down in the most vulnerable parts of you, the kind that she’d felt after she’d stood up from laying everything out in front of Joseph. She’d felt sick, then, and slimy; every detail of every memory about that night years ago before moving back to Hope County had made her skin burn .

And then there had been John. Hands gripping, mouth hungry, but it was always: Anything you want, El. He’d done everything exactly the way she’d wanted it. John wasn’t the first man she had been with since her time in the city, but he was the first to—well, mean something, and wasn’t that a dreadful thought?

Pressing her face back to the pillow, the unfamiliar weight of his arm around her tightened when she shifted away.

“Stop squirming,” John rumbled. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“This is a twin bed, fucker,” Elliot replied, ignoring the unease that was beginning to knot in her stomach. She didn’t know why it was there, inside of her, until she realized she was—happy? “It wasn’t meant to hold both of us.” And then, bitterly: “ Fuck, you’re hot.”

She kicked her leg out from under the sheets, exhaling sharply as the complaint left her mouth. It was too late to choose better wording; she could feel John’s self-pleased aura radiating off of him almost instantly as he buried his face into her neck.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he said, as his fingers skimmed beneath the sheet to trace the lines of her scars. She knew that it infuriated him that she hadn’t told him what they were from—but at least like this, he wasn’t interrogating her, contenting himself with feeling them rather than knowing them. She squirmed and grimaced.

“I mean like a space heater,” she grumbled. Tucking her arm up under the pillow, she added, “I don’t remember saying you could sleep here.”

John grinned against the back of her neck. “Are you kicking me out?”

A long, tired sigh slipped out of her, muffled by the pillow. Every part of her ached in a pleasant way, and John’s warmth pressed up behind her as they lay crammed on the bed in the bunkhouse was a grounding one; the kind that might let her sleep a little more. The darkness in the room meant that she hadn’t dozed off for very long, and even now her eyes felt heavy.

She knew that she’d barely gotten the amount of sleep that she needed since Joey’s death, let alone wanted . Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was the gore and grit of it; it sat just behind her eyelids, waiting for her to try and get some rest and move forward to assault her with the memory of Joey’s gruesome murder.

The broken jaw, the gutted chest cavity. The flowers, packed so tight and full she could have rested her cheek on it and been held like a pillow. 

And John’s arms, circling her: Don’t look, El. 

“You can stay,” Elliot said after a moment, keeping her eyes fixed on the wall. “This one time.”

“You’re in an agreeable mood.” John paused, nosing past the hair gathering in the crook of her neck. “You want to tell me how your confession went now? Must’ve been pretty good, considering what you let me—”

She groaned. “I changed my mind. Get out.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, I just—”

“You are so fucking annoying,” she said, rolling over in the bed to look at him. With that grin slapped on his face and his hair tousled out of its normally meticulous slick-back, he looked boyish and young, not like a cultist maniac; it was probably the most frustrating thing about him, that he could look this way. That he could have moments of sincerity, but that he never seemed to fall into the realm of “good”, because every time she felt herself relaxing around him he did something to remind her why it was a bad idea . “I’m not going to talk to you about my confession.”

“Well,” John said petulantly, “why not ?”

Her fingers traced the Sloth scar just under his collarbone. He had a myriad of them—tattoos, too—and while she hadn’t quite gotten them all memorized, it was nice to let the buzzing of her brain focus on parsing them out instead of everything else.

The problem was that Elliot didn’t know how to tell him the truth of it; that she had only told Joseph those things about who she had been and who she was now because she knew that he wanted her to, just like she knew John wanted her to let him kiss her, and just like she knew Jacob wanted her to give him a reason to push her to her limits and really test her. She couldn’t tell John that, because even though it was true , it also didn’t change the fact that he complicated things for her more than she should have let him—like everything, John was an outlying variable which Elliot had no way to brace for.

“It’s not good pillow talk,” she said after a minute, skimming her fingers along the jut of his collarbone. “And I don’t want to talk about it, and that should be enough.” And then, decisively, when John opened his mouth, she said, “It is enough.”

John closed his mouth pointedly, and then said, “You certainly know how to ruin a good time.”

“Goodnight, John.”

She rolled back onto her other side and waited for the departure of his warmth. It didn’t go anywhere—instead, John buckled down, keeping his arm wrapped snug around her abdomen as his mouth traced the slope of her shoulder.

“You’ll tell me,” he said after a moment, his voice a pleasant rumble, “eventually.”

We’ll fucking see about that, she thought, closing her eyes with a muted sigh.

“ Goodnight, John.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You’re late.”

Jacob sounded fully unimpressed, arms crossed over his chest as John stepped into the chapel. It was to be expected, he supposed; after all, they were supposed to have been convening about ten minutes ago, but sleeping in the bunkhouse meant his alarm hadn’t gone off, and—

And, even if it had, he wasn’t sure that he’d have rushed out of bed anyway.

“Sorry,” John said, not feeling nor sounding very sorry at all, he was sure. Joseph was seated patiently by the table, the radio set to the side as it casually flicked through channels on a timer, meant to scan and make sure they weren’t missing out on any chatter. He glanced at John as he came in, his eyes inquisitive, but remained silent.

And then Jacob announced, “Your shirt’s all fucked up.”

“Didn’t have time to change,” John replied. He wanted to say it—he really did—but he mostly wanted Jacob to ask. “I came right over as soon as I woke up. What do we have on the Family?”

“Hey? John?” Jacob leaned down against the table, palms flat on the surface, fixing him with those steely eyes. “What the fuck?”

Faith stifled a laugh, her eyes glimmering wide and doe-like on her face. “You aren’t going to tell us what happened to your shirt?” she asked.

“I feel like this is detracting from the purpose of the meeting,” John answered, trying his very best to feign innocence and focus in the face of the attention, which—after all of Jacob’s moaning and groaning about his incompetency with the deputy, he was enjoying immensely.

Jacob pushed the collar of John’s bedraggled shirt aside with one brisk movement. “Are those nail marks?”

“Oh, John,” Faith sighed.

“Well, I don’t want to brag,” he said, brushing Jacob’s hand off of him, “and I won’t, because there’s no reason to. I’m just doing my—you know, my job.”

“So,” Joseph said, finally, “the deputy is...?”

His older brother arched a brow loftily at him, watching him from across the table. He didn’t seem to be enjoying John’s little show quite as much as his other siblings—in fact, Jacob seemed the most pleased, that wicked grin splitting across his face as soon as John said, “I think you could consider her converted. ”

“Little John finally got around to it, huh?” the red-head said, sounding quite amused.

Joseph waited. “Is that so?”

“She confessed to you,” John explained, “and then—well.” He glanced at Faith for a moment. “ Confessed to me. And actually, you know, Joseph, I was thinking about that little problem we were discussing a few days ago.”

He leaned in against the table, pleased to have their rapt attention—most of all, Joseph’s; his brother’s gaze was fixed on him expectantly, waiting patiently for the elaboration that he hoped was coming.

“Problem?” Jacob prompted. “You mean Burke?”

“I mean the whole thing,” John replied. “Burke, whether he got out or not, what’s going to happen once we get rid of the Family if someone tries to come down on us. Joseph’s right when he says there’s ways to make people not talk. Who knows if the Resistance members got out? And even if they did, who’s to say they won’t leave this place behind them forever and never look back?”

Jacob crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay?”

“Okay, so ,” he continued, and then paused and said, “bear with me—”

“John.”

“What if—Elliot and I got married?” he finished. All three sets of eyes blinked at him for a moment, and then he said, “ If this goes to court, and if we have witnesses pulled up against us, Elliot can opt out of testifying against me if she’s married to me. Only a complete moron would put her up on the stand after hearing that she’s a Seed, and—”

“Stupid,” Jacob interrupted. “Bad plan. If she does get put up on the stand against one of us , what is she going to say, John?”

“She likes Joseph,” he ventured. “Sort of. Right? The confession went well, you said.”

“And me,” Faith offered. “I’m probably her favorite.”

“That’s very true,” Joseph conceded.

John plunged on, “She has a good reputation. She grew up here, went to school here, knows all of the locals, worked on law enforcement—”

“And she’s fucking nuts,” Jacob deadpanned. “They’re going to take one look at her body count and put her in a psych ward. I don’t care if you want to have a bride, John, but don’t pretend that it’s for us and not for you. We all know the second you put your eyes on her—”

“Well, it was really fucking stupid of us to let Burke get out!” John snapped. “It doesn’t look good , you know? The prospects? Not to be a big bummer, but I’m trying to make a win out of a losing hand!”

Joseph lifted his hand to signal that an end to the discourse had come. He settled back against his chair for a moment, pensive, eyes fixed on the Eden’s Gate symbol carved into the front of the chapel; it felt a little like agony to sit and wait for him to break the silence, and John could sense the unease prickling in his stomach.

“The deputy has confided in me the extent of her past,” he began at last, “which matches up with everything we dug up on her before, when she came back.” He sighed thoughtfully. “She was truthful, and willing, and so vulnerable. It really was remarkable—and with all that time she spent fighting us. You should have seen her, John.”

I know, John thought when the spiteful venom shot straight through him, taking away some of the victory that had rooted itself there in his chest. I know, I know, that should have been fucking mine.

“She confessed to me, and then…” His eyes landed on John. Delicately, he continued, “... willingly indulged you.”

“I’ll say,” Jacob muttered.

“It seems that our deputy is turning a new leaf, after all.” Joseph’s gaze flickered absently down to the table, and he asked, “So. She’s agreed to it? This idea of yours?”

No, John thought, with no absence of affection and frustration in equal amounts. If he was being honest, he thought that she wouldn’t have agreed to it even if every bad thing they had ever done to her was erased; that was just the kind of woman that Elliot was. All the more reason to want her. All the more reason to make the taming sweeter.

And if tying Elliot to him legally, by name, didn’t get them out of this mess, it would at least ensure that she stayed in it. 

With him.

After a moment, he ventured, “It could require a little extra persuasion.”

“Hol-ee shit,” Jacob said. “You came with a half-baked idea that you haven’t even gotten confirmation on? John? John?”

Feeling another bout of bickering come on, Faith let out a little exhale of breath and came to a stand, smoothing her hands along the skirt of her dress. Both Jacob and John stopped their oncoming fight to look at her—almost as effective at garnering attention as Joseph, his little snake.

“I’ll talk to her,” Faith said. “It shouldn’t come from you. You’ll just piss her off.”

John narrowed his eyes. “It takes a rapport, Faith, and you’ve barely spent any time with her.”

“It’s not about the amount of time, it’s about the quality of the time,” she snipped. “Fifteen minutes with her and she was willingly offering up information about her childhood to me.”

“Okay,” John replied tartly, “and?”

“When I was kidnapped by the Family, they kept referring to their— substance as ‘opening them to the influence’,” the blonde said primly. “And when I heard that, I thought, what a good idea! It’s easy to overwhelm the body with Bliss, you know. Send someone on a nice trip. But if you just give them a little bit at a time? Over a longer time? Sort of like what Jacob does.”

“We’re not letting Jacob do his brainwashing on her,” he bit out.

“No, John , we’re not,” Faith sighed. “I just mean—give her enough where she doesn’t realize what’s happening. It just makes her…” She searched for a moment, and then smiled brightly. “Soft.”

Oh, he thought, I do like it when she’s soft.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Joseph said, before he gathered up the threads of his thoughts from images of Elliot soft , burying her face into his neck and sighing prettily. “And if she’s more open to your influence because of it, John, then what’s to lose anyway?”

“Well, since we’re all settled on this fucking insane idea,” Jacob said, spreading the map back out on the table, “Faith will take care of that while I educate everyone on what’s going on with our Family, yeah?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When she woke up, John was gone, and with him the satisfying warmth that had lulled her back to sleep. In his absence, Boomer had curled up on the floor next to her bed; John must have let him in on his way out.

“Hey, buddy,” Elliot murmured, reaching down and ruffling his dark fur affectionately. He made a low, whining groan, blinking big brown eyes up at her. “You’re ready to be done, huh?”

Boomer rolled onto his back, stretching his legs luxuriously as she patted his stomach. She was pleased to find that John had left almost no trace of himself—no articles of clothing, no sticky note left on the bedside table. It was as if he hadn’t ever been there.

Well, almost, anyway. She slid out of bed and grabbed some clean clothes from her bag, making her way to the bathroom to start the shower. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she almost started; there were marks blooming on her neck, her collarbone, her hips. Her lips were kiss-reddened, her hair disheveled. She thought for a second that she’d never looked more like a stranger and also felt like herself in a very long time—though perhaps that had to do with having a clear path out of Hope County. As close to clear as she could get.

About ten minutes into the shower and she heard the door to the bunkhouse open; Boomer barked once, and Elliot stuck her head out of the shower to say, “John, I really only just got into the shower—”

“It’s me.” It was Faith’s voice. Softer, sweeter, more welcome even all things considered. Elliot hadn’t forgotten the way that Faith had stuck around to try and comfort her, even if she knew she’d been told to do it, and even if she knew that Faith had to have been doing it for something. The only person who had ever done that because they cared for her was dead, now.

“Oh.” Elliot paused, clearing her throat. “Um—I’m sorry, I thought—” Fuck fuck fuck.

“I can wait,” Faith continued, closer to the bathroom door now. “I was just going to see if you would go on a walk with me. We’re not allowed to leave the compound alone anymore.”

Faith’s voice sounded small, filled with a kind of longing that Elliot recognized in places of herself, too—the kind of longing that she’d felt before she’d met Joey: to be around someone, anyone . She swallowed thickly. 

This wasn’t on her agenda for the day. She was supposed to be grabbing a map, trying to get to the radio without getting seen, figuring out where they kept all of their guns. She’d gathered what ammo and weapons she could at Fall’s End, but it had been slim pickings.

“I’ll hurry,” Elliot said after a moment, and she meant it. She sprinted through the rest of her shower; somehow, the idea of keeping Faith waiting was more tragic than leaving any of the other Seeds waiting, and maybe it was because Faith wasn’t even a real Seed at all and somewhere along the way had gotten snared in their trap.

She had to be safe. She had to be careful. And that meant not trusting a Seed—even an honorary one. Especially an honorary one.

Once she had dressed, she stepped out into the main room of the bunkhouse to find Faith waiting patiently. Unlike John, she didn’t regard Boomer with a look of wary disdain (though it had been a while since he’d done that), but rather with a little smile planted on her face; the Heeler’s hair was up, and he made a low warning noise that rumbled right out of his chest, but he laid flat on the floor and looked instantly to Elliot for a cue on whether their new guest was dangerous or not. She waved her hand at him.

“Sorry about that,” Elliot said before she could stop herself—there was no reason for her to apologize for Boomer being wary of her, considering all of the variables, but Faith’s sweet face gazing wide-eyed and trusting at her was enough to dig right in the grit of her in a way that John or Joseph couldn’t have ever. 

“It’s okay,” Faith replied amusedly. “I know John locked him up in a cage.”

“Yeah,” she said dryly, shifting on her feet. She was glad she’d packed mostly sweaters, a few high-necked, to help conceal the remaining bruising. With a gesture for Faith to head out of the bunkhouse, Elliot followed her out into the late morning—but not before she grabbed a handgun out from under the bed, flicked the safety on, and tucked it under her sweater and into the back of her jeans.

Outside, the sun had receded behind a thin veil of gray clouds, and in the distance thicker ones started to roll in. Angry, boisterous kinds of clouds. She hoped it was going to storm again; she loved an Autumn storm, but she had the feeling that it would only be a nuisance in the end.

“I can’t believe how gloomy it is,” Faith murmured, pouting. Without any ceremony, she took Elliot’s hand in hers, interlacing their fingers like they had been friends forever; a sweet perfume scent wafted off of her, and it smelled familiar , but Elliot couldn’t figure out what it was. Boomer sprinted on ahead of them, doubling back every once in a while as he got his stretch in, and the girl continued, “Jacob says it might even snow. ”

Elliot grimaced at the mention of Jacob but trailed obediently next to Faith. It was so much harder to maintain the anger, even knowing that she had been just as complicit. Faith was just so—

“It’s snowed as early as August here, once,” she offered, dragging her mind away from what it was that bothered her the most: that Joseph, Jacob, and John were all somewhere, convening, likely about her. Likely about things that she needed to know. “What are your brothers doing?”

“Talking about boring stuff,” Faith replied with a little laugh as they walked out from the gate of the compound. And then, with a sly little look on her face, she said, “Talking about you, too.”

A little lurch caught in her stomach. “What about?” she asked faintly, and Faith shrugged.

“John’s upset he doesn’t know what you talked to Joseph about.” As they broke away from the dirt path and went instead closer to the forest, Boomer ducking and darting as he chased a mouse, Faith gave Elliot’s hand a little squeeze. “He really likes you, deputy.”

“You can call me Elliot,” she clarified. The title felt wrong, now that Joey was gone. Now that Whitehorse was nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t really even a deputy anymore. “And did he tell you that? He’s got a funny way of saying things.”

“I can just tell. John’s my brother, and he’s bad at hiding his feelings.”

Elliot smothered a laugh before it could come out of her. “I suppose he is.”

They walked like that for a few moments; Faith, remarking often about something that caught her eye, Elliot offering whatever information she could about the flora and fauna, and on one occasion Boomer sat still enough to let Faith brush her fingers over his ears. It was a strange, suspended sort of moment in time, Elliot thought. Like they had entered a bubble entirely their own, perfumed by Faith’s floral-sweet perfume, the freedom of walking outside of the compound, and the gentleness that Faith carried with her.

She was so remarkably unlike any of her siblings that it was almost possible to forget she had ever been one at all. That at one point, she had held Joey captive at John’s behest, in a way to wrench on the softest parts of her.

“I’m very sorry,” she murmured after a moment, garnering Elliot’s attention. “About Miss Hudson. You know, they kept us together. The Family. She was…”

Oh, Elliot thought, as the faint wash of grief slipped up in her, trying to climb up her walls. Oh, please don’t say something lovely. I just can’t stand it.

“So kind,” Faith murmured at last, “to me. Even after everything. When I was crying, and scared, and thought no one was going to come for me, she held me. She always said that you were going to come, no matter what.”

The words rinsed her with a different kind of sorrow, then. Not even really for herself, anymore, but that Faith had known Joey’s kindness, and now she would be without it.

“I’ve always wanted a sister,” Faith continued after a moment, stopping their walk as they had looped back around and now the chapel was coming within sight. A swoon rattled around in her head again as a waft of Faith's perfume smothered her. “You know? Brothers are nice, but—”

Elliot felt a pleasant, dreamy buzzing in her head, and she thought it might have been from the words because— because, and that was all her brain could think to supply as the thoughts flickered around in her head. Because Faith wrapped her arms around Elliot’s midsection and hugged her, head tucked just under her chin, because the young woman felt so tiny and small and frail in her arms, because there was nothing about what she said that came with the same boxed, off-brand sincerity that the rest of her brothers used.

“I’m so happy you came, Elliot,” she murmured, her voice floating up to her muffled by the fabric of her sweater. She was holding so tight that Elliot could feel the rabbit-like fluttering of her own heartbeat in comparison to the slow, luxurious tempo of Faith’s. “I’ve felt really alone out here.”

When she tried to lift her arms, cautiously, it felt like she was moving under water; she rested her hands on the blonde’s shoulders. “Faith,” she started, “if you—if you’re—unhappy—”

I can get you out too, she thought, a little desperately. I can get you out. I couldn’t do it for Joey, but for you, I could.

“What do you mean?” The young woman smiled up at her, and their noses brushed, and that scent washed over her again. What was it from? She couldn’t quite muddle through her brain to catch it and pin it down. “I’m so happy. Now that you’re here.”

“M-Me too,” Elliot managed out. She thought, vaguely, that something must be wrong; before she could trouble herself with it anymore, Faith reached up and kissed her cheek, and then the corner of her mouth, chastely. A burst of floral raced through her mouth, humming between her molars.

“Are you?” Faith asked her as the world wobbled a bit around her. “Happy, Elliot?”

Was she? When she reached around inside of her, dug around deep, she had anticipated to find that sharp little jumble of glass inside of her, all of the anger and the hurt that had been wadded up and sat right locked away in her jaw: but it was nowhere to be found, then. In that moment, all she felt was a gorgeous swoon of delight race straight through her at the idea that she could still be happy.

“Yeah,” she said after a moment, feeling a little smile tugging at her lips. “I am.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“So,” John said casually, “are you going to tell me what Elliot said to you?”

“Oh, fucking Christ,” Jacob muttered.

“John, you know that I can’t.” Joseph’s voice was mild, and patient, as he gathered his things from the table and came to a stand. “She confessed to me in absolute confidence. I could never violate that.”

“It’s important,” John replied, shooting Jacob a look when he scoffed, “to make sure that I have as much information as I can.”

As they walked toward the chapel’s doors that led out into the main yard, Joseph rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, rooting him to his spot for a moment. It was just a tiny gesture, but that alone was enough to make John hesitate, glancing over at his older brother.

“Everything that you need to know about our deputy,” Joseph said, “you do. The only advice I can offer you is that she’s already told you what she wants, more than anything.”

“Don’t,” John sighed, “ please don’t be cryptic with me. I don’t know—”

“You do,” his brother cautioned. “You do know, John. She’s just a woman, you know. She wants what anyone wants.” He gestured for him to move forward, and he did, albeit reluctantly, and Joseph opened the door to the outside. “A place to belong. A person to belong to, or a person to belong to them.” He paused. “A home.”

“John!”

As he stepped out of the chapel, Faith’s voice dragged his gaze to the small little space between the chapel and the building next to it. His sister waved at him with one hand while the other clasped Elliot’s tugging her along.

“We wondered how long you guys were going to be,” she said, beaming at him as they neared, Jacob and Joseph trailing after him out of the chapel. Joseph got as far as the doorway, leaning against it comfortably. Elliot’s face was flushed prettily, and yes, he could see it—the ever-so-gentle dilation of her pupils, a strange dragging smoothness to her movements, like each lift of her arm or flicker of her eyes was being done in a syrupy pool of molasses.

“It wasn’t too long, was it?” he prompted amusedly. “Only an hour and a half, I think.”

“Boring,” Faith insisted. “Elliot and I had so much fun. She knows so much about the plants around here, did you know?”

The sentence almost made John laugh. Faith knew just about as much as anyone could be around the plants in the area; he knew that she was capable of this kind of sweet manipulation, but to see it in action, to see the way that Elliot’s nose crinkled at the compliment, was different.

“Not,” Elliot managed out modestly, “that much.”

Joseph said something to beckon Faith; John couldn’t hear it, or if he did, the sound didn’t filter into his mental archives, because Elliot was gazing at him with something other than venom, and when their eyes met she waited a heartbeat too long to look away.

“I think I’m— gonna go lay down,” she said after a moment. “Thanks for talking with me, Faith.”

“I told you,” Faith replied sweetly from the doorway of the chapel, “I’m so happy you’re here.” And she swiped her thumb along her lower lip, like the dredges of a sweet-drink she didn’t want to forget, and John felt like he’d missed something important.

As Jacob brushed past him with one last meaningful look over his shoulder, John cleared his throat and asked, “Are you feeling alright?” just as Elliot caught herself from swaying on her feet.

“Me?” she repeated, and as she took a step forward it seemed to hit her really hard then, her hand flying out to stabilize herself with his shoulder. “I’m good. I’m pretty good, you know?”

“I don’t,” John replied. He reached up, brushing the hair from her face, and for a moment her eyes fluttered and she sighed. “Tell me.”

“Got food.”

“Mhm.”

“Got sleep.”

“Right.” John nudged her forward, walking her towards the bunkhouse.

“Got—” She paused, almost like she felt suddenly shy, opening the door and stepping inside. She looked at him over her shoulder, a little smile tugging at her lips. “ You. Don’t I, John?”

He thought very suddenly that he had been a fool to doubt Faith’s capabilities. A fool, certainly, and an even greater one to not have taken advantage of this sooner. Of course dunking her in a river bleeding Bliss had made her feel like shit. It was meant to disorient her. But this Elliot? Gently, sweetly catered into a bliss-buzzed reality?

“Yes,” he replied as her arms slipped around his neck. “You do.”

“Smell good.” Elliot nuzzled her face into his neck. She smelled like Bliss extract—like she’d taken a bath in it—and when she leaned up and kissed him leisurely, unhurriedly, she tasted like it too. It vibrated in his mouth, sharp and glittering and racing straight down his spine. “You left too many marks on me. It’s hard to cover up.”

“I’m sorry,” John said, even though he wasn’t sorry at all.

“You’re not.” She grinned against his mouth. “But you will be.”

The words sent an excited little thrill through him, anticipation prickling along the back of his neck. But he needed to stay focused; he needed to remember why Faith had done this for them in the first place. Not to get Elliot relaxed enough to actually enjoy herself, but to secure at least one aspect of their future that they could get their hands on.

He said, half-cocked grin on his face, “Is that so?” while Elliot nudged him to one of the chairs settled snug and comfortable in the corner of the bunkhouse. The table had been littered with her own belongings that she’d fetched from Fall’s End — her bag of clothes and things from the house, the two crates worth of supplies she’d hauled from the Spread Eagle. As soon as he was sitting in the chair obediently, she settled in his lap.

“Hey, El,” John said against her mouth, “what if we did something?”

“Kissing is something,” Elliot replied pleasantly.

“I mean,” he tried again, skimming his hands up underneath her sweater and down her back, “what if—we got—what the fuck is this?”

His hands hit lukewarm metal. He gripped it tentatively, feeling familiar ridges and lines, and pulled it out from where it had been tucked beneath the top lip of her jeans. 

It was a gun.  

In hindsight, John realized that it would have been stupid to think that she hadn’t grabbed weapons while they were in Fall’s End—she obviously didn’t think they’d give her any, and she was probably more right about it—but the absurdity of actually catching her with one on her was almost too much, in juxtaposition to the innocent way she was regarding him.

“A gun,” she said.

“I can see that,” John replied amusedly, making sure the safety was switched on before he set the gun on the table. “Care to elaborate?”

Elliot shrugged. The black of her pupils slowly ate away at the blue of her irises, until he thought that there could only be a sliver of them left now. “Not really.” And then she kissed him again, instantly pulling his mind away from the task at hand as well as the careful procurement of her firearm.

“You wanted to be—armed, walking around with my sister?” John rumbled against her mouth.

“Not getting caught unarmed,” Elliot replied. “Not again.” And she threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him, sighing into the liplock prettily and reminding him, again, why he was actually here.

John waited until he could feel the flutter of her pulse under his fingers before he said, “What if we got married?”

Elliot laughed. “Don’t be stupid,” she murmured, while his fingers traced the bruise he’d left the night before. 

“I’m not.” He kissed her again, distracting her for a moment. “What if we did?”

The blonde stilled and pulled back, regarding him with a gaze that was both unimpressed and confused. She didn’t say anything, and he didn’t say anything, and she pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Why?” she asked suspiciously. But John had been prepared for this question, because he knew it would come inevitably, and he leaned forward and tugged her down to kiss her again; her movements were more tentative now, as though she were trying to brace herself against him.

“I don’t want,” John said against her kiss, “you to be alone anymore.”

“Um,” said Elliot, sounding faint.

“And when this is all done with,” he continued quickly, “all of this stuff with—with the cult, you and I can get out of here.”

She stared at him. He could almost hear the sluggish churning of her mental gears, grinding and lurching against each other. In the time that he’d known Elliot, he’d come to understand that there were two things that she cared about: getting her friend, and getting out. And it was easy to promise both; by the time they got to the end of the line, it was time to make a decision about staying or leaving, Elliot would be so won over by him that she’d choose to stay.

What does anyone want?

“But what about…” She swallowed thickly and gestured with her hand. “What about—like—all the others—”

A person to belong to them.

“I want to be with you,” John said, low and easy. “I want to be yours, El.”

Her lashes fluttered uneasily. “John—”

“I want a home.” He studied her face. “With you.”

Come on, he thought as she worked the words through her Bliss-muddled brain. Come on, hellcat, come on, I know you want to.

“If you—I bet if you agree to testify,” she started, “then Burke could—”

“Cutting a deal only works if you can choose not to testify against me,” John told her. “You know that, El.”

She didn’t; she was only a small town deputy, but it didn’t matter. She nodded like she did. She was a small town deputy with nothing and no-one left, and now he was offering her what he thought she wanted the most: something. Someone.

“You said there was a John that you wanted,” he continued. He kissed her, his hand cradling the back of her head, and he felt her fingers fist the front of his shirt like she was afraid of disappearing. “I’m here.”

Voice barely above a whisper, she said, “Okay.”

John nosed past her hair, kissing the slope of her jawbone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Elliot repeated. “I’m—yeah, I want—I want you to be… If you’ll go, when this is done—if you’ll cut a deal with Burke, and—”

A moment passed where she couldn’t seem to bring herself to say exactly what she meant. So he waited, and let her muddle through it, mouth twisting for a moment. A person to belong to, Joseph had said; he felt the absent fluttering of her pulse under his mouth. A person to belong to them.

“Then I want you,” she managed hazily, “to be mine.”

Mine. The word echoed pleasantly, over and over again, in his own voice. Mine. All mine.

“Of course,” John murmured against her skin, “all yours.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Evening came, and with it, a plethora of new problems: chief among them, sober Elliot.

That is to say, though John had hurried from the bunkhouse and fetched the marriage certificate Joseph had figured up for him, and though he had made it back in time for Elliot to dimly sign it, she was nearly asleep. Which left the question up in the air as to whether or not Elliot would even remember their conversation, or if it would feel like a strange dream to her, and if it did, what was he going to do? Tell her?

By the time she’d slept off her happy little trip, John had filed the certificate away for safe-keeping, and she'd come barging into the chapel.

“Hey,” he greeted her, noting the sharpness of her eyes, the way she cocked her head and rolled her shoulders. “Get some sleep?”

“Yeah,” Elliot replied, her voice coming out a little hoarse from the sleep. “What happened? I was so tired, I can barely remember leaving Faith.”

Jacob looked at John pointedly, his brain rapidly scrambling for a foothold. Now, in the face of Elliot-not-under-the-influence, he had the distinct feeling that his assumption she would not be pleased at the idea of being a Seed felt truer than ever.

He should tell her. He should. He should tell her what they’d agreed to, that she’d signed a marriage certificate to be “witnessed” by Joseph and Jacob and Faith, that she’d said she wanted him to be hers. If he trusted her, he would.

“Nothing,” John said lightly. “You came back from your walk with Faith, said you were tired and wanted to go lay down. You look pretty flushed, though.” He feigned concern, reaching up to touch her forehead. “Are you running a fever again?”

Elliot jerked back, startled by the gesture, as though the display of affection in front of Jacob was a shock to her. Trying to look as though she hadn’t just acted like a cornered animal, she said, “I’m—no, I feel fine otherwise.”

“Okay,” he replied. “Well—”

“Faith said you guys were having a meeting earlier,” the blonde continued. “About what to do with the Family. I need to be in on those meetings.”

Jacob scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

“ I’m going to kill Kian,” she asserted firmly. “So I need to know what he’s up to.”

The two of them exchanged a glance for a moment. John said, “Elliot, are you sure you don’t—”

“Positive.”

“Well, sit down,” Jacob snapped. “Not gonna wait all fucking day for you.”

Relief immediately crossed her face. It was so potent in that moment that she didn’t even seem to have the heart to bite out a retort—Jacob’s venom meant nothing to her, not if she was getting what she wanted. Elliot sat herself down at the table and leaned over the map, stifling a yawn.

Jacob covered all of the information that he already had with John and Joseph in their own, which was just fine; John didn’t need to hear about how they’d dug up Ase Carnell, daughter of a Swedish hedge fund king who’d inherited her daddy’s billions upon his departure from his mortal coil. He didn’t need to hear about that, because instead , he could think about the way Elliot had said, I want you to be mine. How sweet she would be when she’d settled into being his wife, too; how delicious she would sound saying, come here, husband.

He was halfway through a daydream when Elliot broke him out of his thoughts. “Did we find out anything about them?” she asked.

“ We ,” Jacob said, pointing at himself alone, “found out that they’re no longer holed up at the camp, but they’re on the move. Like they’re heading out of town. Somehow, these people are well-funded, well-equipped, and they have nothing but time on their hands.”

“Ase told us that the end of the world was coming,” John clarified, “and that it was their job to help usher it in.”

“Well.” Jacob grimaced. “We can’t let them get out. We should choke them here on their way out of Hope County.”

“Do you think Kian’s there still?” Elliot asked. “After what he did to Joey, I—I have to think he’s really pissed off.”

“There weren’t any stragglers,” Jacob replied, “the camp was completely empty, and we haven’t seen anyone out on their own.”

“Then I’ll go cut them off.”

Jacob barked out a laugh, and when Elliot regarded him with an even, unflinching gaze, he crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re fucking joking.”

“I have guns,” Elliot insisted. “I can drive in a firefight better than any of you fuckheads. Just ask John.”

“Yeah, he told me about your little stunt. You almost killed Faith.”

“But I didn’t,” Elliot insisted, “ and I got valuable information, which was that they weren’t willing to kill her even if it meant killing us, so you’re welcome, you fuckhead!”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jacob bit out.

“Okay,” John interjected just as Elliot opened her mouth, “what if I went too?”

It wasn’t ideal. He didn’t really want to go on a happy little road trip to try and corner a murderous cult, he wanted to just let them fuck off and never come back, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that they had egregiously affected Elliot, and he had promised her, and if he went back on that promise now, the tentative peace they had come to would disappear instantly.

Whether she remembered the marriage or not.

His eldest brother stared at him for a long minute. John half-expected him to say no; after all, the whole point was to make sure they didn’t die, Elliot included, so that they could use her if something went awry after the Family was dealt with.

“Fine,” Jacob said after a moment.

“No!” Elliot protested instantly. “Fuck, God, no, I don’t—need a fucking babysitter.”

“On the contrary, I don’t know how you’ve survived this long without one,” Jacob replied. “John goes with you to choke them, or I go with you.”

Elliot’s mouth twisted in a vicious grimace. She tapped her thumb nail against her lower lip for a moment, her gaze sliding to him; their eyes lingered just a bit longer than normal, and for a second he thought she knew something that she wasn’t telling him.

“I’d rather drill out my own cavities than go with you,” Elliot said to Jacob after a minute.

“Great,” he said flippantly, “so you and John can have a nice little road trip down the highway—”

“Cool.”

“—and we’ll pin them in from the back. We’ve got enough explosives to light up the entire gaggle of them, but only once, so you’d better make it fucking count. Got it?”

Something was clearly brewing. It unsettled John, the way that she regarded him with a fixed, unreadable gaze. It struck John that Elliot hadn’t, in the last few days, mentioned anything about her plan, or her next move. It was the first time that he was not acutely aware of her intentions beyond revenge for Hudson.

What’s going on in that head of yours? He wondered. What’s storming around in there?

“Got it,” Elliot replied, at length. “So when do we leave?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Elliot stood by idly while Joseph went about his work. His “work” being speaking in low murmurs to John and Jacob, hands on both of their shoulders, heads bowed together as he took them through what was certainly some kind of horrific disfigurement of a prayer.

Joseph had been pleased when she’d told him about that night in her apartment. He’d looked elated, to know the nitty-gritty details of her worst nightmare; of her then-boyfriend terrorizing her, for weeks, before breaking into her apartment. He’d been thrilled. He’d cradled her face and said, Don’t worry, Elliot. You’re safe now.

She had to bite back a laugh. Safe , like that meant anything to her anymore. Her apartment had been safe. Joey had been safe. And what had that gotten her?

Alone.

Alone, and with strange, broken moments of time. John had said that she’d gone straight to sleep, but if that was the case, she’d had uncomfortable dreams, too. Splintering fragments of what felt like a memory. John, kissing her, arms wrapped around her midsection: I want to be yours. I want a home, with you.

It was too much of a fairytale to have been real, she knew—John would never. He’d said it himself; he’d do anything for his family, and that meant dying, and lying, and squirming his way into her bed, and fuck him for being that way. Maybe she wanted him in her bed, and fuck him for that, too.

Because he had lied to her. Or at the very least, he hadn’t been entirely truthful with her. Elliot knew she’d taken her gun with her, and when she’d woken up, she’d seen it on the table.

“You’re not riding this time, bud,” she said to Boomer, the keys in her hand. “I don’t want you in the car if you don’t have to be.”

The Heeler gazed her, big brown eyes soft and trusting. His tail wagged softly in the dirt. If there was someone that was going to make it out of here, no matter what, she’d make sure it was Boomer.

“Elliot.” It was Faith’s voice. She had slipped up while the brothers spoke amongst themselves, smiling at her, small and tentative. 

“Hey, Faith,” Elliot greeted her, clearing her throat. A wad of anxiety rolled in her stomach at the sight of the blonde—something she wasn’t expecting, and that she couldn’t quite parse out. “What are you doing up so late? Or—early, I guess.”

“I wanted to see you off,” she replied sweetly. “You’re going to get that guy, right? The one that killed Hudson?”

She swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”

“Good.” The blonde sounded oddly determined. “I hope he suffers.”

A wave of affection washed over her. It was an unexpectedly kind thing to say. “Me too.”

The brothers finished their convening, and as they divided—John to her, Jacob to a group of Peggies, and Joseph beckoning Faith to follow him into the chapel—Elliot felt something settle right in her, just under her skin, and John glanced back over his shoulder before he reached up.

His fingers brushed her jaw. She didn’t recoil the same way she had before, but steeled herself against the instinct to do so; the two combating urges to both lean and pull away. But she stayed perfectly still, and when John leaned down, she tilted her chin up.

Their lips brushed. She wanted to linger in the moment, to enjoy it, but she couldn’t brush off the creeping knowledge that he hadn’t been honest with her.

“Aren’t you excited to go on a roadtrip with me?” John said, his voice low as he kissed her.

Elliot tilted her head just a little bit out of his grasp. “So I can hear you complain about my driving?”

“Mean.” He smiled against her mouth. “Cruel. Wicked.”

“Are you trying to compliment me into submission?” Elliot asked, and then he kissed her again—slower this time, more leisurely; indulgent was the word he should have used for her, all things considered.

He looked at her for a moment, a little like he couldn’t get enough of her, and murmured, “Not into submission. Just complimenting for all the normal reasons.”

“Are you two leaving or what?” Jacob snapped from a few feet away. “We have time wasting.”

Elliot exhaled, sharp and tired, against John’s mouth, and he laughed, pulling away from her. He waved at Jacob before he walked around to the other side of the truck and climbed in; she hoisted herself into the driver’s side and rolled the window down and cranked the engine on. Everything she thought they might need had been loaded into the small space behind their seats—guns, ammo, what medical supplies she’d been able to take from Fall’s End, some food. She tapped a cigarette out of a carton she’d snagged and lit it.

“Really?” John asked, without heat, as she pulled the truck slowly away from the center of the yard.

“I’m tired,” Elliot replied, taking a drag of the cigarette. “If I am still sick, it’s really sticking with me.”

John was quiet at that, glancing out the window as they pulled out of the compound, and she whistled out the window and Boomer took off to dart through the underbrush like an arrow; dark and sleek and lethal. She could see his eyes glinting in the headlights as she turned onto the road and hit pavement.

“You shouldn’t have had to come,” she said. 

“I would’ve wanted to, even if Jacob didn’t demand it.” John glanced over at her, and for a second she thought he looked almost sly as he continued, “You don’t have to do everything alone all the time, you know.”

“Please don’t try and Atlas this thing, deputy.”

Jerome’s voice clattered around in her, vibrating each time it connected with some surface of her memory; but she didn’t let herself feel them, didn’t let them wander into her conscience, because if she did she would have lost herself to the grief.

“I know,” Elliot said quietly, tapping the ash out the window. “It’s just hard. I don’t—I’m not—”

“A team player?” he prompted, reaching over and taking the cigarette out of her hand so that he could take a drag for himself. Before she could correct him on what she was going to say— good at letting go —he snagged her free hand and in a surprising act of affection, brought it to his mouth to kiss her fingers.

“We’ll kill him, El,” John continued. He carried an easiness about him now that he hadn’t had before, like he was suddenly very relaxed despite the task at hand. “And then this whole nightmare will be over.”

The irony that John Seed was assuring her that the nightmare would be finished was palpable, and certainly not lost on her. Even if it was endearing, the way that he snagged her hand and kissed her knuckles, the way that he smoked her cigarette down, like she could get a secondhand-decompression from it.

“Yeah,” she murmured, “I know, John.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

As soon as they hit the highway, the dark night sky stretching out above them, Elliot felt herself relax.

For the first time in a long time, she felt still ; as though all of that vibrating, all of that suffering, had ended, even if it was only for a moment. Even if that meant that John Seed was a part of the quiet.

“Remember the last time you were driving us somewhere?” John prompted from the passenger seat, rolling the window up against the chill of the late evening. “You stole my sunglasses, you smoked in the car, and then you tried to drive us into an oncoming car. With my sister in it.”

“This sounds like a lot of complaining for someone who’s still in one piece,” Elliot replied, hitting the cruise button on the truck and glancing out the window. She was going slower than normal, letting Boomer dart through the underbrush as he trailed them. He’d barely gotten half the amount of exercise he’d been used to since they’d been in the compound, so he was probably having the time of his little doggy life.

“I’m just saying, cruising at a cool twenty-five on an empty highway seems highly out of character for you.”

Elliot opened her mouth to say something, her head turning to look at John, but several things happened in very quick succession: Boomer barked, loud and sharp on her left, John leaned forward to look at him, and when John leaned, Elliot saw a dark, gray shape lurching its way from the far side of the road up onto the pavement.

Panic shot through her body. She slammed her foot on the gas, but it was too late; the van—and that’s what it was, a van —was quicker on the uptake and slammed straight into the back end of the truck, sending it tires-squealing across the highway and straight into a tree. The sound of crunching metal and glass breaking rang in her ears as her body lurched with the movement, wrenching against the steering wheel with a force that knocked the wind right out of her.

She was aware, vaguely, of airbags weakly deploying. Fucking Peggies, she thought through the haze of pain, fumbling with her seatbelt. And then her body kicked again: someone fucking hit us, fuck fuck fuck, oh shit oh fuck, her finger jamming uselessly on the mangled seatbelt clicker.

“John?” Elliot asked, as smoke billowed into the front of the car. The windshield was broken, and the engine sputtered dangerously.

“What—in the fuck—?” His voice was groggy, and through the smoke filling the cab of the truck and her own blurring vision she could see the dim shape of him moving.

The seatbelt finally released, and she fumbled blindly at John’s, ignoring the burning filling her lungs and stinging across her skin.

“John, we have to—John we have to fucking move,” she said, and then she heard the door behind her swing open; frantically she pushed at John’s seatbelt, trying to scoot away from the noise instinctively, but the second she felt a hand gripping the back of her shirt in a fist, she could feel the dread wadding up in her stomach. 

Elliot wrenched her body hard, not bothering to look before she tried to kick whoever was grabbing at her. The hand gripping her sweater went harder, another wrapping around her calf.

And then yanked. Hard.

There was no collision of body; no one was trying to catch her out of the truck, but just haul her out, tossing her like a rag doll onto the hard ground beside the road. It was the second time in as many minutes where the wind was ripped straight out of her, and she coughed, struggling to sit up.

A booted foot planted itself on her shoulder and pressed her back into the ground.

“Sit back, mor,” an unfortunately familiar red-head cooed, digging his foot into her shoulder until she squirmed. “Relax.”

“Fuck—yourself,” Elliot ground out, wrapping her free arm around the offending leg to try and get some leverage to pull herself out from under him. But Kian easily breezed past six feet tall, and probably weighed twice as much as her. He grabbed the hand gripping his knee with a kind of bruising force and twisted until she couldn’t bite back the cry of pain.

She could hear the sounds of voices on the other side of the truck, the sound of a car pulling up next to the wreckage, and Boomer barking furiously. 

John, she thought hazily, they’re grabbing him, and Boomer. I have to fucking—I have to get up, I have move, fucking move you useless fucking body.

“Did you get my gift?” Kian asked her, lifting his foot so he could haul her to her feet. Get out get out get out her brain was screaming when his free hand gripped her throat the same way it had done before. “Did you like it, mor? Picked out every flower myself and stuffed each one in. Her eyes —”

Elliot tried to throw her body weight one way, but to no avail; the images were already flooding over her. Joey, packed full of flowers. Joey, blooming from every part of her.

“—her mouth —”

“Stop,” Elliot begged, her voice coming out hoarse, grating on each sensitive part of her soul on its way out. “Don’t talk about her—”

“—her ribs and chest, those were the best parts to fill up,” Kian seethed. “Broke every one of her pretty little ribs and yanked them right out. Could not waste any space, could we, mor?”

He spat the moniker at her with venom. Where Ase had said it to her reverently, with adoration, caressing her with the single-syllable, he bit it out of his mouth: he sank his teeth into it, brimming with hatred.

Her vision fuzzed around the edges, and Kian dug his fingers into the soft skin of her throat. “Ase—said,” Elliot managed out, one last-ditch attempt at survival, “she said she was—she was waiting for me—”

Kian hauled her against the truck, all but throwing her against the dented and splintering metal as the smell of burning rubber filled the air. Every inch of her body was screaming , straining and aching, desperate for some kind of relief from the constant onslaught of pain.

“Ase,” Kian hissed out against her temple, so low that she almost couldn’t hear him, “is dead. Your man killed her. Or don’t you remember?”

Elliot wheezed. She did, but his grip on her throat was so tight that she thought she was going to pass out; there was no room to answer even if she thought that Kian wanted to hear it.

“We’re going to have fun, little one.” He punctuated each word as hard as he could, punching it out of his mouth. “We’re going to see how fast you can run. You and that man of yours. Did you know, mor —”

His fingers loosened on her throat, brushing over what she was sure was a bruise from John her neck, almost admiring. The sensation sent unpleasant goosebumps prickling along her spine. 

“—that I have intimate knowledge of the human body?” he finished. “So much time digging around in one, you start to figure out how to make someone’s life end quickly—or make them die a long and suffering death.” He smiled, the gesture out of place on his face; in another life, in another world, Kian would have been handsome, but in this lifetime the expression on him only looked jagged and sharp. Like it didn’t quite fit into his skin.

Elliot gathered up whatever strength she had left and spit in his face.

She hadn’t realized her mouth was full of blood, but in hindsight, it wasn’t surprising; watching the crimson splatter Kian’s face was more a happy little treat, albeit short-lived.

“You ugly fuckhead,” she gritted out as he wiped the blood from his face. “I’m pretty good at making sure people suffer, too, let me go first and we can—s-swap notes—”

Too late, she realized that Kian was banking on her mouthing off; he fished something out of his pocket and then shoved it into her mouth. It was a wet washcloth, the taste of it earthy and reminiscent of the lingering taste that had been in her mouth when she’d woken up at the camp before. She tried desperately to spit it out, but her jaw worked tiredly, exhausted.

“Much better,” he said. “I’ll tell you what: I see your color too, mor, and do you know what I see? Not white, not perfect balance like Ase said. You are gray. Oh.” He clicked his tongue, gripping her neck to pull her forward and then slam her back against the truck again, sending her vision spinning. “So sad, aren’t you? Don’t worry. You’ll bloom for me.”

Kian beamed at her, almost boyish, holding her with his vice-like grip.

“They always do.”

[yakocchi]

Be My Princess Social // Yakov Chernenkov, Season 1, Episode 1

// The Great Prince of the Country of Ice

o wats this, self-indulgent crap?? haha the joke is that all the translations i post are self-indulgent crap, thank you for coming to the press conference

This is going to be part of a translation of the Yakov Chernenkov route for the Be My Princess Social Platforms (GREE, Joshige, Eternal Kiss, etc.)

I figured this should be… relatively all right given that it seems like Voltage is done with BMP Social games forever in terms having English versions. tbh kinda surprised no one ever took the task of doing it. publicly at least? i searched a bit, found nothing. if someone already did it pls tell me lol  …..but i guess something like this is a stan’s job to do, right (ﾟ▽ﾟ*) 

idk, we’ll see how this goes… only did 1 ep as a test run to see if i feel like doing this rn lol this is lengthy endeavor

Image-heavy!! Please credit if you take any of it, thenk u (･ω･*)

Intro & Legend

This route is similar to Zain’s in that they wipe just about everything from the Paid version (the one with Sergei and the Anastasia backstory…lol that was wild thinking abt it) and start anew with the character. But Yakov is different from all the other BMP1 characters in that they also changed his personality almost completely. This is reflected in his profile when they change his blood type and age from the Paid version (B → O, 25 → 31)

If you’re familiar with the Social Zain route, you can kinda see through his bits how they changed him. A BMP fansite master describes him as “high-handed, but charismatic - a person with the character of a king” which sums it up better than anything I could ever think up

So I guess it would be a good idea to not carry over expectations from the Paid app route to this route because that’s just a recipe for disappointment lol. i know a lot of people like the Yakov from the Paid route, so I wanted to put that out there. It’s a shame bc that character is effectively “gone” but… the yakov i stan is the social one, so if that had to happen so my 2d man could come into existence…well…

thank u for ur sacrifice

➤ are my own commentary.

➢ are the choices that pop up. For the most part I have both (iirc I don’t have one near the end bc I forgot I was trying to pick the wrong ones on purpose lol). Note that all my wrong answers are from the original version’s text and thus they may have been changed for EK. Correct answers are labeled with ❆

➼ at the end of a line signals that the choice text has “ended” and it returns back to the general text. The general text resumes on the line that begins with a ➼. This is mostly just for organization on my part - the docs I type+format these on get very, very annoying to scroll through, so

Bolded dialogue reflect the screencaps.

I hope you enjoy some part of it! ( ´◡` ) Thanks for reading

Episode 1 // The Great Prince of the Country of Ice

➤ Interestingly, the original title they used for GREE and Joshige is The Cold, Rational Prince of Sanct Sybil Kingdom. I dunno why they would change it except maybe it was too long for the title card to look pretty lol

When I opened the door at the sound of the chime, there stood a man wearing a gentle smile on his face. Taking note of my presence, he places his hand to his breast and gracefully bows.

[Zain]: “You must be Miss Kara Go. I am Zain, the personal steward of Nobel Michel Castle.” [Zain]: “As promised, I have come to pick you up.” [Kara]: “Y-Yes. I am indeed Kara Go.” [Kara]: “To go out of your way to come here - thank you so much.” (Am I really… not just dreaming here?) Pulling a letter out from my pocket, I recall the events over the past few days that had led up to today.

I had torn the seal of a blank-white envelope that had no written return address, and my eyes widened in shock. “I want you to become an exclusive designer.” In the enclosed message - along with a bit of contact information, the end of the letter had been signed by Nobel the XIII, the lord of Nobel Michel Castle. (This must be some sort of mistake… A-Anyhow, I should try to verify it.) Thinking that, I call the contact number on the letter…

But, indeed - the letter was not a mistake, and they spoke to me about wanting to have a proper consultation about the position. I was told that Lord Nobel wanted some time to talk in-person with me, and eventually the promised day where I felt that my dreams were coming over the horizon… finally came. (Even when it’s finally here, in front of me of like this, I still can’t believe it…) [Zain]: “Thus, His Grace awaits. Let us depart.” [Kara]: “O-Okay…” With a spring to my step, I get onto the limousine with Zain.

(It would’ve never crossed my mind that I’d be going to Nobel Michel Castle for a second time.) (And on top of that, I’ve been called here in terms of being a designer of all things…) I was pretty nervous the time I had come here for Jean Pierre’s errand, but now I’m even more nervous compared to that day. I felt my heart noisily thumping as I waited for Lord Nobel, and eventually the parlor door opened.

[Zain]: “My Lady, we must deeply apologize.” [Zain]: “His Grace’s conference is going longer than expected, so it seems you will have to wait a few moments longer.” [Kara]: “I see…” [Zain]: “Since you took your most valued time to come here― Would you like to take a look around the castle gardens until the conference is over?” [Kara]: “Castle gardens… you say?” [Zain]: “Indeed. Several varieties of the rare flowers we raise are currently in bloom– so if it pleases you, I can guide you around.” (You don’t get the chance to tour the Nobel Castle gardens everyday.) [Kara]: “Then, if you may.” [Zain]: “Very well. Shall we go now?” With Zain as my guide, I get to visit the castle gardens.

[Kara]: “Wow… it’s absolutely stunning.” [Zain]: “Thank you. Everyone who visits these gardens tend to voice similar sentiments about it.” The courtyard stretched over a vast space, and it was a feast for the eyes even with a simple glance. (In a way, it’s as if I’ve been sucked into a fairy tale.) As Zain explained the parts and features within it, I was completely enamored by the beautiful garden― When an teenage boy clad in a butler’s uniform comes running to us from the castle.

[???]: “Zain! So this is where you were.” [Zain]: “…Theo, you are before a guest.” [Zain]: “I must apologize, My Lady.” [Zain]: “This is Theo, who is training in this castle as an apprentice steward.” The boy called Theo – at being scolded by Zain, straightened his posture accordingly.

➤ i can’t believe bmp2 stans denied us from having the wacky family sitcom a theo route would have smh my head bro

[Theo]: “…I am Theo.” [Kara]: “I’m Kara. Nice to meet you, Theo.” [Theo]: “M-Mhm…” Theo, whose face still held remnants of childlike youth, averted his eyes shyly. Then Zain, who had witnessed all of this, lightly presses the boy in a gentle tone. [Zain]: “Theo, did you have any matters to discuss with me?” [Theo]: “Ah-, right! I was sent by His Grace to relay this message to you.” [Theo]: “He urgently wants your input on something, so you gotta come to the conference room.” [Zain]: “His Grace does?” [Zain]: “But, right now…” His eyebrows knit together, as if troubled. With a smile I turn to him. [Kara]: “I’ll be all right by myself. Though while I wait, may I take a look around the garden?” [Zain]: “Yes, of course.” [Zain]: “I apologize for being unable to guide you around myself for now– but if you could meet with me afterwards…” [Zain]: “Can you wait just a moment?” [Kara]: “All right.” Sounding apologetic in his words, he then goes with Theo towards the castle. (Being the exclusive butler to Lord Nobel must be quite the busy job…) I thought about that as I took a stroll around the calm gardens, sunlight beaming… When―

[Man]: “Please, at least, once more– Please consider thinking about it…!” The cries of a man at his wits’ end cut through the silence of the courtyard. (Is something going on…?) Looking in the direction of the voice, I find three men standing from the other side of the building. The shouting from earlier seems to have come from a man who looked slightly older from other two, and said man also seemed to be desperately calling for something. [Man]: “…The state of the administration right now still is unstable.” [Man]: “If we act too carelessly, the balance of the three nations could collapse once more!” [???]: “…I have long past made a decision.” The words that had answered the aggravated man were bound to a terribly icy voice. As this man stood with his back facing me, I was unable to see his face; but from pitch alone he seemed to be a young man. With his long, platinum-blond hair having been pleated into a single braid, he silently rebuffs the rage of the older one.

[???]: “Even if you did indeed manage to chase me all the way here― Decisions are not something to turn back from.” [???]: “That is all that need be said, so I shall leave first.” [Man]: “…Yakov–Sir, why are you this impatient?!” [Man]: “It can't be that you don’t realize that now is a crucial time for the country, is it…?!”  In pure exasperation, the older man grabs onto the man called Yakov. But in doing so, a man in a butler’s uniform that had stood across from him swiftly yanks the man off.

[Butler]: “What are you thinking in that head of yours, grabbing onto someone of his (Yakov’s) status?” [Butler]: “Even if you get imprisoned for disrespecting the state, this is an inexcusable situation you’ve found yourself in.”

➤ so the term he uses is specifically for lèse-majesté, which is the fancy term for insulting the ruling sovereign, monarchy, ruling state, etc. etc. but i didn’t want to just throw in that term bc i felt like it’s not… very common? idk i feel like the bmp mc wouldn’t know what that is granted i guess you could do the galaxy brain take and be like “she doesn’t know what that term is and that’s why she couldn’t piece together that yakov is royalty” 

[Man]: “Urgh…!”   The older man was then pinned to the ground, and as his arms were confined behind his back, he groans in pain. The moment I see the expression on his face, a cry spills out from my lips.

[Kara]: “Ah…!” [Yakov]: “…!” Hearing my voice, the platinum-blond man whips his head around. 

His eyes, peeking out from behind his long bangs and deep blue like the sea, then sharply leveled at me. [Yakov]: “…What is your business?” [Kara]: “Uh…”

(What should I answer with?) Menacingly asked to speak, I…

➢ I’m unable to say anything. ➢ “He’s in pain.” ❆

➢ I’m unable to say anything. (This person… has an awfully intimidating air to him.) Unable to say anything particularly impactful, I only turn my eyes to the man held to the ground. ➼

➢ “He’s in pain.” [Kara]: “I don’t know what’s going on here, but you’ve gone too far… He’s in pain.” [Yuri]: “Of course. It’s only natural for it to hurt when you’re bound down like this.” The man in the butler’s uniform answers me with a smile plastered on his face. (What the-… He’s smiling, but it’s honestly quite frightening-) [Kara]: “B-But… if you end up injuring him, that’d be terrible, no…?!” While paralyzed with fear, I managed to raise my voice at him. ➼ 

➼ With that, the platinum-blond man shifts his eyes to the man in the butler’s uniform. [Yakov]: “―Yuri, release him.” [Yuri]: “…” At his words, the one called Yuri immediately relinquishes his hold.

➤ Yuri’s name might actually be Urey, as one of Ivan’s Birthday Event routes note how Ivan’s wolf Urey and butler Yuri have the same name (by coincidence). But the JPN version always spells it as Yuri so I’m just used to it. Not that you should really be taking the app’s romanization as official though given they have stuff like “Lewis” (Louis), “Jean” (Jan), and the occasional “Robert” for Roberto ( ´_ゝ｀) 

As the older man staggers back up from the ground, the blond man speaks to the two of them. [Yakov]: “Do not start trouble in the castle grounds of other kingdoms.” [Yakov]: “ ―Regarding what happened here today, I shall overlook it this time. Good?” [Yuri]: “Understood.” [Man]: “…My sincere apologies.” As the two men lower their heads, the man called Yakov then directs his piercing gaze towards me.

[Yakov]: “Forget what you just saw and heard here. Not a word to anyone.” With only those words to me, he leaves with the other two following behind him. (That “Yakov” person, and “Yuri” too… what terrifying people.) Alone in the garden, I was completely petrified to the spot from the overwhelming pressure those men had left me with.

[Theo]: “―Miss Kara, here is where His Grace’s been hanging o– awaiting your presence, rather.” Afterwards, Lord Nobel’s conference had ended and Theo had come to take me to him. While heading to the parlor where His Grace was waiting, Theo’s innocent self causes a smile to crack my features. [Kara]: “Just ‘Kara’ is fine, Theo. On that note, you don’t have to speak so formally with me.” [Theo]: “Uh- But…” [Kara]: “I’ll be more at ease and less nervous that way.” [Kara]: “Besides, I’m in a similar situation as you.” [Theo]: “‘Similar’?” [Kara]: “I’m only a rookie designer.” [Kara]: “So like how you’re an apprentice butler, it’s kind of a similar position.” [Theo]: “Gotcha…” At my explanation, Theo, apparently happy about some part of it, breaks into a smile. [Theo]: “…I get you. Then- When we’re together like this, I’ll be sure to do it.” [Theo]: “Since only super-distinguished people ever come to this castle, I get pretty stressed out.” [Kara]: “Hehe, I’m feeling the same too. Just entering this castle makes me anxious.”

[Theo]: “Right?! Lord Nobel and Zain treat me really well so it’s all right for now, but…” Theo wore a smile that was quite fitting for a young boy like himself. Calmed by his pure sincerity, I enter the reception room.

[Theo]: “…Your Grace, I have brought Miss Kara Go.” [Nobel]: “Thank you for your hard work.” [Nobel]: “Kara, sorry for making you have to wait on me when I was the one who called you up here.” Lord Nobel wears a merry smile on his face as he kindly welcomes me. I bow my head down in gratitude. [Kara]: “I am, indeed, Kara Go.” [Kara]: “Thank you for inviting me to such a meeting.” [Nobel]: “You don’t have to greet me so formally,”  [Nobel]: “as the truth still stands that I was the one who summoned you today. I just wanted to talk with ya about something.” [Nobel]: “―So, Kara, do you know of the country of Sanct Sybil?” [Kara]: “Yes. I’m only knowledgeable with news and info that’s been reported to the public, but…”

Sanctis, Sybil, Versurk― Those three countries had united into one, and the resulting nation is apparently called “Sanct Sybil” from what I’ve heard. With this as my sole knowledge of the country, Lord Nobel speeds up the conversation.

[Nobel]: “Then I’ll cut to the chase.” [Nobel]: “The truth is that Sanct Sybil is planning to join the Nobel Michel Alliance.” [Nobel]: “As they’re still a new nation, they’re searching for talent both inside and outside the country.” [Nobel]: “In pursuit of capable individuals, the prince of Sanct Sybil has come to me for some guidance, so…” Cutting his own words short, a smile then markedly graces his features.

[Nobel]: “Kara, you are to be the exclusive designer of Sanct Sybil Castle.” [Nobel]: “I thought that I’d like to go see you work there.” [Kara]: “Uh-…” (I’m… going to be the exclusive designer… for a royal castle?!)

[Nobel]: “Besides yourself, I’ve been in talks with other talented folks in all sorts of industries.” [Nobel]: “It’s only the designer position that’s yet to be decided.” [Nobel]: “I personally wanted to recommend you, but… what do you think?” [Kara]: “Um… I’m truly grateful to be able to have this conversation with you, but…” [Kara]: “Since I’m still new to this, I don’t have any achievements to show for anything.” [Kara]: “Knowing that, why did you call on me for this…?” I can’t hide my own utter confusion from his sudden invitation. Voicing my bewildered thoughts with that question, the corners of his lips quirk up into a smile.

[Nobel]: “I learned about you through a list I asked from Jean Pierre.” Lord Nobel, upon consulting with the prince of Sanct Sybil, requested Jean Pierre to produce a list of designers with promising futures. (Jean Pierre himself put me on that list…) [Nobel]: “Certainly, you don’t have any prior accolades… but within the multitude of applicants, I saw your design sketches,” [Nobel]: “and I was considerably charmed by them.” [Nobel]: “I grew delighted just from simply looking at that design.” [Nobel]: “And for that reason I wish to bring you to Sanct Sybil, a nation newly born into this world.” [Nobel]: “I think that a person full of zeal like yourself is necessary for such a place.”   [Kara]: “Your Grace…” [Nobel]: “By all means, please consider it for me.” (I’m simply unworthy to be having this sort of discussion…)

At Lord Nobel’s invitation, I…

➢ “Give me some time.” ❆ ➢ “If it is all right with the other party…”

➢ "Give me some time.” Having heard all of this from Lord Nobel so far, the feeling of wanting to give it a shot comes to me. (But…) [Kara]: “…Could you give me a bit of time to think about it?” [Nobel]: ”Of course. You should go ponder it a great deal before coming to a decision.”  ➼

➢ “If it is all right with the other party…” [Kara]: “If it is all right with the other party, I feel that I would like to accept this offer.” [Kara]: “However…” There’s an uneasy feeling in my heart about it, and my words drift off. Then Lord Nobel, as if he understood my thoughts nods his head once. [Nobel]: “It’s all right if you don’t rush yourself to a decision.”  ➼

➼ [Nobel]: “Can you give Zain an answer a few days from now?” [Kara]: “Understood.” Putting my answer on hold for a moment, I depart Nobel Castle.

(The chance to be the exclusive designer for a royal castle won’t ever come by me again, but…) (While Jean Pierre is having a hard time, I can’t just leave him like this.) Turning down the offer to be dropped off at my apartment, I head towards the office of Jean Pierre.

[Jean Pierre]: “Oh my, is that ma petite?” [Kara]: “Pierre!” Not expecting to meet him like this, I’m surprised to see him here. As if he had sensed something about me, he smiles.

[Jean Pierre]: “…With a face like that, looks like you got something to talk about, hmm?” [Jean Pierre]: “Instead of standing around outside to chat, please just come on in.”

Pierre unlocks the door to his office and I come inside. [Jean Pierre]: “You somehow came all the way here… Could it be that you had talked with Lord Nobel?” [Kara]: “…Yes.” [Kara]: “I received an invitation to work as the exclusive designer of Sanct Sybil Castle.” [Kara]: “But for someone like me, who has no experience nor achievements, to take up such a grand job is…”  [Kara]: “I don’t really have the confidence that I can do something like that.” [Kara]: “And on top of that, I want to be further taught by you…”

[Jean Pierre]: “What are you saying?! Is this not a good thing? This is your big chance!” He looks at me with a serious expression. [Jean Pierre]: “In that list I submitted to Lord Nobel, there were also designers that had prior achievements.” [Jean Pierre]: “Despite that, I was convinced that you would be the one to be chosen.” [Kara]: “Why… is that?” [Jean Pierre]: “From your designs, I feel this power to them.” [Jean Pierre]: “There are some parts that are rough around the edges, but there’s this energy, one that can completely transform people, hidden within!” [Jean Pierre]: “Lord Nobel definitely sensed that too, I bet.” [Kara]: “Ah…” (Thinking about it, Lord Nobel did say something along those lines…) (He said that the designs- from simply looking at them, he grew delighted…)

[Jean Pierre]: “Please believe in yourself.” [Jean Pierre]: “I, as well as His Grace, would never recommend someone who we’d feel couldn’t do the job.”  [Jean Pierre]: “I believe in your potential, ma petite.” [Kara]: “Pierre…” Even though he himself is in a difficult position, he’s so firmly supporting me in this. With my heart overwhelmed with such emotion that I couldn’t speak, Jean Pierre smiles. [Jean Pierre]: “I’m also going to use this moment as a source of encouragement for myself, as I plan to work hard as a designer once more.” [Jean Pierre]: “One day, no doubt in my mind― the offices of Jean Pierre will be restored!” [Jean Pierre]: “And that’s why, ma petite… without worrying about these offices, please just go and try what you want to try.” [Kara]: “…Thank you!” (I can’t let this chance from Jean Pierre and Lord Nobel just pass me by.) Urged on by Jean Pierre, a smile appears on my face as my chest is enveloped in this determination. 

―That night. Resolute in accepting the offer of exclusive designer, I contact Zain as soon as I return to the apartment. [Kara]: “Concerning the aforementioned position of Sanct Sybil’s designer… I think that I will accept the invitation.” [Zain]: “Thank you very much. I think that His Grace will be quite pleased to hear that.” In a soft tone - As if thinking for a moment, Zain continues to speak. [Zain]: “If I can be honest with you, the prince of Sanct Sybil himself is actually coming to stay at the castle for official business.” [Zain]: “Normally, we would hold your interview over at Sanct Sybil, but…” [Zain]: “Since the prince will be coming over, how about you two introduce each other here at Nobel Castle instead?” (Is that so?) (Even if Lord Nobel is recommending me, it could become a situation where the prince of Sanct Sybil is not too impressed by me.) [Kara]: “I see… If you could reserve some time for that, that’d be great.” [Zain]: “Then, I shall make the proper arrangements and contact you again.” And with that, it was decided that I would meet the prince of Sanct Sybil.

A few days later―

I’ve been called to Nobel Castle once more. While having a spot of tea with Lord Nobel and Theo, I bow my head again. [Kara]: “―Thank you for granting me an opportunity like this.” [Nobel]: “Ohohoho.” [Nobel]: “At any rate.. you’ve become quite resolute about this.” [Kara]: “…Yes. Your Grace has given me words of immense appreciation, and Jean Pierre has also encouraged me.” [Kara]: “I think, as a designer, I want to take advantage of these chances given to me.”  (But… with no achievements of my own, I wonder if the Prince will approve of me…) Anxiety running through my heart, Lord Nobel smiles while stroking his beard. [Nobel]: “I also have hopes for you, Miss Kara.” [Nobel]: “I believe that, surely, the prince of Sanct Sybil will indeed require your power.” [Kara]: “Thank you…!” When I beam at Lord Nobel’s kind words, Theo then cuts into the conversation.

[Theo]: “So Kara… really is a designer, huh.”

[Theo]: “But… if it were possible, I was hoping that you’d become the designer for this castle.” [Kara]: “Hehe, thank you.” [Kara]: “I think that I definitely wouldn’t be able to be the designer for Nobel Michel, but I hope one day I’ll be able to make clothes for you, Theo.” Replying to Theo with a smile, Lord Nobel watches us with a gentle look on face. [Nobel]: “Ho ho, looks like you two have become quite close.” [Nobel]: “As I thought, Kara, you seem to have this charm that just mellows out everything around you.” He laughed heartily when there came a knock on the door. [Zain]: “Please excuse the interruption,”

[Zain]: “For I have brought Prince Yakov of Sanct Sybil.” 

➤ “op are u just making excuses to post caps of zain as much as possible” perhaps PERHAPS if im gonna need to break down the blobs of text, zain is nice to look at

(Ah…) I get up from my chair, and face the doorway nervously.  But at the next moment, my eyes instinctively open wide. (That, person…) The figures that followed behind Zain were two men I was familiar with― 

The platinum-blond man with the air of intimidating beauty, and the man in the butler uniform who had worn a smile on his face― 

The people I had witnessed in the courtyard days before.

[Prince Yakov]: “―As I have heard that you have found a candidate for the designer position, I have come.” [Prince Yakov]: “Your Grace, I give you my humble gratitude for granting my request.” [Kara]: “Eh…” [Prince Yakov]: “…” I inadvertently let out a small cry of surprise, and the Prince finally meets my eyes. For a split second his eyes had widened, but almost immediately after it shifts into a sharp gaze. (A person like him is the prince of Sanct Sybil, of all things…)

Steeped in the shocking reality of it all, I stare dumbfounded at Prince Yakov―

➤ now part of me was thinking, do people really need all the screencaps of when he makes the -_- face but honestly him doing the -_- face for half of his portraits on this route is part of the experience

To be continued…

(Letter)

➤ so uh this might be a crapshoot in terms of placement bc there’s diff letters based on the special story you choose, and also i forget where the last few letters go loool but that won’t be a problem until later

From: Yakov Title: (untitled)

…So you are the designer recommended by Lord Nobel? If you come to my country, you will be treated to the finest hospitality. Therefore you should not ponder over unnecessary matters and just bring yourself here. Good?

―Yakov

holy fucc idk why this is more tiring to translate than other stuff. maybe bc this is a slow route where we have exposition and non-romantic chara development we have to tread thru first. also lol translating the bmp writers’ style seems like more work? vs stuff like cybird? idk it’s hard to explain.  i’m not a super big fan of what i have rn…. in fact i’m like wtf what is this incomprehensible garbage i made... but i’m too tired to do revisions rn…… aye… but i’ll definitely look over it again in attempt to give it more clarity+readability so yea. there’s nothing’s “wrong” in terms of the literal meaning per se - it’s more like i’d like to make it flow better and actually follow grammar rules instead of cheating with dashes and line breaks hahaaa 

anyway guess ill see u at the next part when (if?) i bother to do it. hrmmm i should try to make the chunks larger given that this story is 15 eps + 3 special stories (with ~3 variations for each story) + epilogue but fuuu ill get there when i get there

Next Episode…

“If you wish to hear of my tastes - you will have to ask me in a more alluring voice.”

yea thats rite im hitting u with the azn drama cliffhanger. well now i have to do this translation or else this would be mean….. this is a psychological effort to get me to not leave this unfinished

Again, thanks for reading!

[plxnet-superior]

Old wounds never heal - 1/2

Anon Ask: “Hi, I am so sorry to hear abt. Ur cat sweetie. If Ur still looking 4 dat prompt U asked abt. last night might I suggest reader is a timelady/timelord who knew the doctor and the master back on Gallifrey. She somehow gets looped into the whole Kasavin mess and there's just ANGST. (You could change this if you want too, I hope you feel better)”

I’m kinda not happy with how I wrote this one, but I hope you enjoy, I have plans for the next one, might take me a while though. Thank you again for the ask!

A shrill ring throughout the Tardis, and everyone but the Doctor jumps.

"What is that?" Yaz, as always, is the first to question from the other side of the console.

"Better question Yaz, who is that?" The time lord stares at the phone on the console in hesitation. "No one's meant to know the number for the tardis." Her companions look between each other, and Ryan shrugs, before one of them decides to pipe up.

"Well pick it up then! Whoever it is, they might need our help. Does say it on the outside of your blue box anyway, Doc." Graham had a good point, but she was still cautious. She hadn't had a true call come through in god knows how long, so of course, the suspicion was natural as she brought the phone up to her ear.

"Hello?" There was a pause, and a thankful sigh on the other end of the line.

"Doctor, hello! Do you know how hard it is to find the number for this thing? Really need to work on that." Whoever you are, you're ranting down the phone about how bad her Tardis design must be to barely have a connection, let alone a working phone number. She doesn't appreciate it, but the ease at which you complain about her blue box feels largely familiar.

"Right, sorry, but who are you?" There was a light hint of offense in her tone, to which you couldn't help but smile. You knew you had the right number at least, no other time lord would get so defensive over you insulting their ship.

"An old friend, and we have a lot to discuss."

-

You'd landed in Australia, and, from the doctors explanations, it had seemed like quite a lot had gone down on your way here. Something about light beings and mi6, which to be fair, made your adventures look like a cozy night in with a cup of tea (which, let's be honest, most of them were).

Her companions were quite a lively bunch, too. Yaz, the plucky young police woman looking for adventure, and something more interesting than a mundane life. Ryan, arguably quieter than the rest, but not unsure of himself, and certainly not stupid. Then Graham, the oldest of the three, grandad to Ryan and the realist of the group, you could tell he wasn't as much one for the danger in this life.

Your introduction was brief, but it didn't take you long to get to know them with how welcoming they all seemed.

"I thought me and the master were the only ones left..." The doctor looked tired, haggard even, a very different face from the last time you'd seen the time lord, before the fall of Gallifrey. You both sat on the porch, away from the others, drinking something that was probably iced tea but definitely didn't taste like it.

"I guess you rubbed off on me too much...I followed your advice, in the end. Stole a tardis and ran off before all hell broke loose. I take it you know what happened after that?" She nodded. Your home planet was gone one moment, back the next, and neither of you knew what to think anymore. "But...doctor, there's something you should know..."

You didn't have the time, ironically, because 'O' had burst out the front door rattling off something about a code, and then the doctor was back in action, giving you a hand up. "We can continue this little chat later, yeah? It'll be nice to work with another time lord again."

"Likewise, Doctor."

-

The energy around the Doctor was not something you were used to anymore. Always on high, this little adventure was definitely something bigger than you'd all imagined.

Especially since she'd made you get all dressed up to infiltrate a party, bit extra in your opinion, but, you assumed, necessary.

'O' was the most interesting of the Doctors friends, that much you had noticed in the brief moments spent getting to know everyone.

"So...you're like her then?"

"Like who?"

"The doctor. You're a time lord aswell?"

"Yeah, basically." You shrugged. "Two hearts, all of my own, and a Tardis to boot... Why?" The mi6 agent seemed to be way more intrigued in your origins than you'd expected, but you guessed that's what came with having such an infatuation with the Doctor. He did own a whole shelf full of information about her, after all.

Although, you'd admit, the attention you'd gained from him wasn't exactly a bad thing.

"Sorry if that offended you...it's just, she said she was the last of her kind." You hadn't meant to come off as defensive with your question, but you did find your gaze drifting back to the other time lord at his words. It's never an easy life running from a past you can't change, even more so when you're by yourself.

"No, you didn't offend me, sorry, not used to people asking questions about me, that's all," you brushed it off calmly before carrying on, "I guess that's what she believed, and to be honest, I almost believed I was the last aswell,"

The agent was very attentive, listening to your every word, and you were really starting to understand the Doctors weird affinity for humans, "spent years trying to find her again, I'd almost given up... Maybe fate just has a funny way of bringing people together when they need them the most."

"Huh. That's a... nice way of looking at it."

-

This was...not what you were expecting. At all. Finding the Doctor was one thing, but finding the Master? Disguised as 'O'? That was...something else entirely, and suddenly, all of his previous questions were beginning to make sense.

"So this is what you do now? After everything!? What the hell happened between you two while I was gone!?" The Doctors got her sonic trained on the bomb, trying to slow it down atleast, and the Master's yelling in the background.

"Now, do you really think I would not make that sonic proof, Doctor!? Come on!"

"We...had a falling out! We can talk about it later, I dont know!" The Doctor's getting more wound up as the countdown doesn't stop. The Master tells you it's 'deadlock sealed, No parachutes on board'. This wasn't the same time lord you knew back on gallifrey at all, no, he was something else entirely, feeding off the chaos, and the wild look in his eyes only served to confirm it.

"Well this looks like quite the falling out to me!!" You argue back, settling once again into your old habit of calling her out after all these years.

Yaz is the only one of the Doctors companions to fire off a question despite the situation. This girl was starting to grow on you with her fiery attitude. Barton's gone, so this is definitely a death trap after all.

"Stick with me, Yaz, cos I control...everything. Even these guys." A snap of his fingers, and a spin. Dramatic, of course. That's his getaway ticket, and your cue to haul the Doctor out of the cockpit by her suit jacket, slamming the door shut behind you. The blast throws you both, and you know you're braced above her, but there's no time for embarrassment. Instead, you're glad to have atleast shielded her from the brunt of it.

However, now the plane's going down, and the Master just has to get the last word in.

"Everything you think you know... is a lie. Got you, finally." There's the split second after that last laugh, he's about to teleport, whisked away by his new 'friends', but you kick up from your position and practically leap over the Doctor to get to him in time.

You're not letting him go. Not now. Not without answers.

Your hand comes down on his arm.

You both faze out.

Checkmate.

[zenithgays]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fire Emblem Heroes Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alfonse/Bruno | Zacharias Characters: Alfonse (Fire Emblem), Bruno | Zacharias, Other(s) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting Series: Part 3 of brufonse week 2020 Published: 2020-10-22 Word Count: 4275 Summary:

Despite everything, Bruno had the idle thought, on more than a few occasions, to try and reconnect with Alfonse. At the very least, it wouldn’t come off as someone trying to take advantage of a former acquaintance’s newfound fame, but that had never been Bruno’s concern, anyway.

No, what had been his concern was that they had drifted apart so suddenly, and everything in Bruno’s life had changed.

If Alfonse saw Bruno now, he certainly wouldn’t recognize his former friend. Thirteen years would do that, he supposed.

happy brufonse week, my thoughts on this fic are under the cut

okay so one. your eyes do NOT deceive you, this IS a 4000+ word one-shot from me! it could’ve been even longer but i was trying not to like go overboard for brufonse week. still as much as i like this and am proud of it i am thinking that at some point i might want to... expand this out. make a chaptered fic of it because there is SO MUCH DETAIL that i had to leave out to keep this from taking me months to write and so many details i would’ve loved to have the place to fit in

so setting details. they’re both alternative bands but they’re different genres that fit under the alternative music umbrella. i did not go into this because i didn’t wanna waste everyone’s time by going on a multi-paragraph explanation of the intricacies of the millions of different alternative genres. i also know basically how these bands sound but i can’t describe it without bringing up specific bands, at least for zenith, and the one band that has the specific Sound i was thinking of ended up being shitty so. i can say that golden wings is like a lot lighter a band. not pop punk exactly but might have a bit of that influencing it. zenith is more dramatic. stage presence of the black parade-era mcr, but not quite the sound since i imagine zenith is a bit lighter. yes i’m sorry i have to talk about band shit when discussing this fic

as you could guess, the interviewer talking to alfonse is peony. bruno doesn’t know her name so in the fic neither do we since we’re following his pov

originally i was thinking of writing the beginning bit, the interview, from alfonse’s perspective but i ended up not doing that because i figured that this fic would be better/easier to write from bruno’s pov

i kind of wish i had the chance to involve other characters more, but because i basically had to keep a lot to the core of the story i couldn’t quite do that. as such i didn’t get to elaborate on things like bruno and helbindi’s friendship, or eir and sharena at all

laegjarn knows bruno didn’t watch the entire interview because he didn’t have the reaction she would have expected of him

i know who does what in each band also. this did not get to be relevant in the fic itself so it’s here now

GOLDEN WINGS alfonse - lead singer, guitar kiran - bass sharena - drums anna - manager

ZENITH bruno - lead singer, guitar laegjarn - bass helbindi - drums eir - backing vocals, rhythm guitar loki - manager

i am skipping around a lot because some sections of this fic i don’t have much to say about. ngl VERY early on in the planning for this fic (if you can call it planning) i had the idea to turn the plot twist of book 1 on its head, that bruno is zacharias, by having alfonse know The Whole Time. so i was super pleased to have that work out. i also knew from the start i wanted bruno to not see the entire interview and miss where alfonse was confessing his love

the last section of the fic is the weakest, i think. i probably could’ve just cut it out but i really wanted to get over 4000 words on this fic. but honestly you might be able to tell i was just trying really hard to wrap it up. it’s still kind of sweet and i don’t think it’s BAD it’s just my least favorite personally

i like this fic a lot for what it is, i’m proud of it for being my longest one-shot. i could probably have more to say about it but i’m fucking exhausted i got like 3 hours of sleep total today. the last thing i rly wanna say abt this is that it’s like... not a slow burn but ONLY because the length of the fic meant it couldn’t be. if i had the time and patience and energy to devote to making it chaptered it would almost definitely be long enough to consider slow burn

i also can’t pick a favorite section because i like too much of this to choose just one

[sunsmitten]

     This is something that’s been bothering me lately and i feel the need to give my two cents. im starting to see homophobic comments abt gay ships on my dash and while the people saying them may not think it’s homophobic, it is. no one has to really read this, it’s just something i want to put out there. it’s my personal experience with a group of people that were very Straight Ship centered, heteronormative, and would frequently make the very same comments others are starting to make here: “gay ships are being shoved down my throat so now i hate gay shipping and want nothing to do with it” or you know, stuff along those lines. if two people rping two girls kissing or two boys kissing bothers you in any way, literally, in any way at all, it is homophobia. and here’s a good chunk of how shit like that grows and can become something very harmful;

when i very first started rping on tumblr i had made an oc ( both the oc and blog are looooong gone by now ) that wasn’t very attracted to women romantically or sexually. he didn’t define his sexuality, but throughout that blog i made it clear he wasn’t really into women.

i eventually made friends with this group of people who also rped on tumblr. in the beginning everything was fine, great and fun! but after some time they would make me feel bad for only putting my oc in a relationship with a man. in order for me to be included and not repeatedly discarded by them, i would actively have to put my oc in a ‘straight ship.’ and unfortunately, that’s what i did. i immediately noticed a difference with how they treated me when i finally shipped my guy oc with one of their girls oc’s, and i would have to repeatedly sit through them saying transphobic and homophobic comments abt other people’s ships and muses ( it was the transphobia in this community that made me leave in the first place ). they would constantly express their bitterness towards m/m and f/f shipping on the internet bc it was “more popular” than their m/f ships, and when i would try to explain how that wasn’t a good viewpoint to have, I would be ostracized, guilt tripped, and forced to apologize and ‘admit’ that i was wrong.

as i got older and more comfortable with my sexuality, i really only ever viewed/read content centered around m/m and f/f because like. im gay. and i wanna see gay shit, ya know? but that didn’t really fly with them. they’d would continuously make me feel guilty for this, call me misogynistic for liking m/m and f/f over m/f because to them being gay and wanting to see gay content makes me hate women, and i was called the big word itself. Heterophobic. 

one of the girls in particular, we’ll call her S, was very keen on telling me how awful of a person i was bc of my preference, how ‘straight shipping is oppressed’ on the internet and im only ‘feeding into the oppression.’ for 4 years she would manipulate me and make me feel guilty not only for the type of media i consumed, but for my sexuality in general. it got so bad to the point that i would have frequent panic attacks and i still got the throw up stain on my carpet to prove it ( i got one so bad bc of her i puked all over my bedroom floor and then fainted ). when i would try to reach out to the others abt what was happening behind the scenes, i’d either be ignored or my feelings were invalidated. to me, she was toxic, to everyone else, she was a wonderful friend. but that doesn’t excuse or make her treatment of me ok and it took along time for me to realize that. 

again, please keep in mind this went on for 4 years. this started when i was finally comfortable with myself and then to be thrown in and stuck in this situation bc i was too much of a coward to leave really fucks with a person. her distaste, hatefulness, and bitter attitude for gay people/characters/shipping was all taken out on me every week for 4 years. i’m doing my very best not over-dramatize this but yeah, it was every week for 4 years she would send me paragraphs of how terrible i was for just being me. how shitty i was as a person, how im a terrible friend, how the content i liked wasn’t fair to her, a straight person, that i was predatory for being a masculine identifying person looking at other guys, and how lucky i was to have a friend like her that tells me when i’m ‘in the wrong.’ 

near the end of last year she sent me another one of these multi-paragraph messages. at this point, i had finally become very aware how fucked up of a person she is and how i was never in the wrong through any of this like she originally made me believe. instead of agreeing with her and apologizing, a ended up snapping back. i told her how i felt, how she wasn’t being fair to me, and that i felt she was being very homophobic. admittedly, her response wasn’t at all like i had expected. She apologized, told me i had opened her eyes to some things and she’ll work on getting better. this made me happy! i thought that maybe we could continue our friendship without anymore of the BS. 

after that i took a good break from being online. i needed some time for myself and i needed to think some things over about my life. during this time, i realized how lax i was with S, how i let her and that whole friend group get away with so many things and i began to wonder if i should even go back. even after that talk i had with her, she was still very defensive against homosexual relationships and would get angry if someone expressed more interest in gay media than straight media. 

i was away for a good couple months, i was healing and rising above that bad mentality she forced on me. i logged out of all social media and messenger apps so there was no way her or anyone from that group could contact me. i hadn’t heard from her in months, until i received a letter in the mail. She wrote me a letter. A two paged letter. A LETTER. A REAL, WHOLE ASS LETTER. just so she can continue to try and tear me down. she started by telling me how much she missed me, a little starter paragraph kissing my ass until it, very abruptly, turned into the usual “youre shit, terrible, bad, you have no respect for me or anything i create, you hate me bc im a straight woman-” you get it. but this time i didn’t care! nothing she said in that letter got to me like it used to. the only thing that bothered me was her persistence to make me feel bad. she genuinely wanted to continue to hurt me. but with that time away and probably because i was so used to it by then, it didn’t faze me. 

i eventually went back to social media and kept my distance from that friend group. i still considered them my friends, bc when things were good, i had a lot of fun! and wanted to keep that in my life. But, I blocked S. I blocked her on everything so there’d be no way for her to contact me and if she wrote me another letter, i would simply rip it up. i made it clear i wanted to go our separate ways with no hard feelings, i didn’t talk to anyone abt what she had done. no mention whatsoever. i carried on my merry way bc i was moving past it. She did not. 

When she figured out i had blocked her, she threw a tantrum. she twisted my words and painted me as the villain by showing out of context screenshots of what i had sent in response to her second to last message ( the one before the letter ). she told the people i was still friends with that i abused her for years bc she was straight and put me on full blast on the internet. she did this because i blocked her.

it all happened in the time span of a second; i lost all my friends, i was blocked by everyone and not only called a piece of shit by her, but by everyone i still cared deeply about. i was forced to delete all my social media accounts so i wouldn’t continue to be put on blast. for a week i was upset bc really, who wouldn’t be? but after that week i realized that if these people i called my friends just took S’s word for it and were all so eager to tear me apart bc she said so, they were never my friends. they never cared about me so why should i care if im not with them anymore? it was a real eye opening moment and my dudes, im doing fucking great. im so much happier without them all in my life and i can finally do the shit i want. be gay and indulge on harmless gay content. 

so! to make the moral of the story clear. The people that are so butt hurt over gay shipping being more popular than straight shipping are people not to be trusted. it may seem unfair to lump them all into a category, and im not saying they’re all as toxic as S, but their mentality is homophobic. disliking anything gay bc it’s not straight, is homophobic. straight people are constantly represented in every source of media and if someone is bothered by the fact that gay people are indulging in gay shipping in the rpc, they are homophobic. there’s no way around it.

im still getting over S and all that she did. i know without her i wouldn't be as tough as i am now and unapologetic with what i like, but there’s a good part of me that wishes i never met her or that friend group. bc of her i struggle with my self esteem and my own internalized homophobia that only formed after i met her. i’ve come along way in the months after i officially cut myself off from them, but i know this is something that’s going to take some time. 

[jeageristsasuke]

Can you talk more about the armin cutting his hair to free himself of his emotional tie to eren bc I cant stop thinking abt that post

Heyyyyy I'm really glad you liked my small contribution to our collective suffering. Sorry for taking this long to answer. I originally didn't have much to add to this hc, until I started writing some thoughts and it turned out kinda fanfic-ish in the end! If you read this through, my sincerest apologies. (Maybe some real writer can properly fic this because I'm useless🙏)

I can't help but imagine the gradual deterioration of Armin's phycology, after Eren left without a word. 1) The pain of separation 2) the anger of being left behind and distrusted 3)the constant self-loathing that he could not prove the worth of his existence, to fulfill his duty to become the Erwin Paradis needed and provide a good enough solution for their situation, that would keep Eren from acting alone, that wouldn't let down the only person who believed in him since the very beginning 4) the lingering worry over his best friend's whereabouts and health 5) the fear of the unknown person that Eren has become right under his nose and what that new person is capable of doing 6) the regret over all the signs that he knew were there but ignored, blinded by a childish dream, over failing to be the friend Eren needed at the most important time 7) the hatred towards both Eren for daring to hurt Mikasa and himself for allowing it because of his inadequacy and for being unable to fix everything for her 8) the agony over his inability to talk and understand and help understand and stop an imminent war and possible eradication of his home, as he believes is expected of him to justify being allowed to live.

Now Armin's reason can work in the direst of situations but sometimes his feelings get too much to handle and the system crashes, i.e. his fight with Mikasa.

One of those times, possibly after an hour long meeting of important officials, discussing the fate of Paradis -and failing to think of any other way to survive but war and never failing to express their worries over the Founding Titan's shady actions and their wonder about how anybody was chosen to live over the Commander Erwin Smith- Armin returns to his room, very much close to the edge -and no worrying Mikasa more than he already does or talking to a crystal, expecting an answer that never comes can alleviate the sere rage he feels.

So he enters the bathroom to wash the tension off his face and makes the mistake to look himself in the mirror. He doesn't like what he sees.

A failure.

A weakling that has no reason to even be alive, much less carry the burden of his co-patriots' hopes and dreams. And yet, as if the position he's in isn't bad enough, as if there aren't more important matters at hand, all he can think of is fucking Eren Jeager -how dare he leave them when they needed to stay united the most, how dare he give no sign of life, how dare he abandon Mikasa (he will never forgive him for that) how dare he force the responsibility of saving Paradis on him and then leave him to carry it alone, why didn't he trust him, aren't they supposed to be best friends that would explore the world together, why didn't he just talk to him!!

(Why does he still miss him?)

He punches the mirror.

He focuses on his distorted image, unfeeling of the pain from his bloody knuckles and hates. He hates that mouth that can't talk the world to peace, he hates those eyes that can't see a way out of their maze, he hates this hair, that his mother used to run her fingers through before he went to sleep, that his grandpa used to comb before he went outside, that his bullies used to pull until he tears, that Eren-

The first thing he comprehends is the sound of metal hitting marble, as the scissors falls on the sink alongside blond locks.

The next is, he's apparently crying.

The last is, he's apparently laughing.

He hasn't laughed that much since, since Eren first kindly tried to feed a horse and it kindly started to chew on his hair. He just can't stop laughing. And the funniest thing isn't even how ridiculous he looks. But, how he used to dream of seeing the Northern Lights with Eren once it's all over and now he dreams of his hands strangling him; how he always believed he's forced to live like cattle in a huge cage for Titans to feast on sooner or later, when he's willingly lived like cattle for a single man his whole life.

Well, sometimes the prey feasts on the hunter.

He understands now Eren's obsession with freedom. It does feel unlike anything else.

The ground is shaking uncontrollably and he stumbles as he walks to his bed because Eren is no longer the center of his orbit and he's floating aimlessly through space for some majestic seconds, breathing with no air, until the door opens (breaks) and Mikasa enters his room, and her eyes widen and lose their colorful black and they don't speak with words because they yell with their eyes, and she forces him on a chair and if her fingers linger some seconds too long through his hair he pretends he doesn't notice lest she notices and moves them away and her gravity pulls him to circle around her and the shaking eventually stops.

Who is she orbiting now that Eren is gone?

Or is she floating aimlessly through space?

When he looks at the broken mirror next, he doesn't recognize who he sees.

You look handsome, Mikasa says with the voice she uses when she burries the need to cry.

He smirks. As if someone like Mikasa is weak enough to need to orbit anyone. He wants to tell her I can't save Paradis, I can't save the world, I can't save Eren, just to prove how easy it is to make her hate him too, but he isn't certain that person in the mirror can handle that, so he settles for a lifeless Thank you.

She takes hold of his forearm and rests her head on his shoulder and suddenly, despite any logic, he wants to believe that person in the mirror can change something, anything, however small and insignificant, that person in the mirror can be someone without Eren.

Ten days later, they receive a letter with no sender's name and a promise for justice at any cost, and of course logic always prevails in the end, and of course he would need to cut much more than his hair. Maybe the pages from that one book, or his veins.