#tags for the whole story even if they don't pop up this chapter

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 1

I fully intended to put out the next part of Well Met, but I got a really bad cold and didn't get far enough into the next chapter to post it, so I'm putting out this one. It's based on this idea here. It is spoilery, so if you don't want to be spoiled, you can read it after the story is done.

I've tagged my regulars as well as those that expressed interest in the original post. If you don't want to be tagged in future parts, just DM me and I'll remove you.

Eddie IS in this just not for awhile. And Steve does have sex with other OCs, the only sex shown will be between Eddie and Steve.

Summary: Steve is an escort with Starcourt Services, who provides omegas to alphas with the money for all sorts of accommodations: arm candy at social events, rut servicing, multiples (including orgies), and sometimes, just sex. Steve is highly sought after, but after a run in with Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson at a fundraiser for a US senator, his world is turned upside down.

No monsters/omegaverse AU. Rockstar Eddie/Sex Worker Steve. Mature (especially in later chapters).

****

When Steve presented as an omega at the age of sixteen his parents were thrilled. They were going to throw lavish parties of all the best alphas in the state. Well, the appropriate ones, anyway. The good ones from conservative families of wealth and breeding.

Steve wasn’t looking forward to any of it. Which is why he breathed a sigh of relief when the doctors tested his fertility they told him he was infertile.

There was a couple other tests they could have preformed but his parents weren’t having it. How dare he be infertile! How were they going to recoup the cost of having an omega for a son, if he couldn’t have been an alpha?

The doctors informed them they had three choices. To the Church where he would be celibate and never seen or heard from again. This is what his mother wanted, but the Church wouldn’t give the money they so desperately wanted.

The second option was as a nursemaid for wealthy omegas who didn’t want to breastfeed their own pups. It had no real financial security because it was dependent on the elite needing a nursemaid in the first place. As callous as the Harringtons were, they didn’t want him to starve.

The final option was Starcourt Services. An elite escort service that would buy infertile omegas to pimp out to single alphas. They had a whole range of services. Rut servicing, gang bang and multiples (including orgies), and cherry popping.

The last one was how the Harringtons would get their money. Whatever the bid price was for an alpha deflowering Steve would be how much they would get for him. Then Steve would work for Starcourt until it was paid off. Then it would be up to Steve to decide what he wanted to do after that.

Most omegas would then go into nurturing fields, like teachers, nurses, and counseling. Not all of them did though, there were some really famous omega escorts in their fifties and sixties. Not even the best paid actors and musicians got paid as much as these escorts. They were lavished with everything they could ever want. Clothes, jewelry, trips to anywhere in the world. You name it, they got it. And they were paid handsomely by Starcourt on top of all that.

There was this really famous male omega simply called Roxie that Steve had on a poster on his wall. His contract had been offered to be bought out a record number of twenty-seven times during his career. People like politicians and diplomats, rockstars and A-listers, the elite and the powerful. Rumor had that one of the princes of Saudi Arabia had offered three times, but Roxie turned them all down.

Steve wanted to be just like him. But he knew that if he voiced that he would be whisked away to the monastery before he could even blink. So threw his lot with wet nurse lot. Saying that it wouldn’t be that bad, he could still save money to go to school and become a teacher.

It was the teacher part that really got Clint Harrington. No Harrington omega had ever been a teacher in their great history and he was going to let his son become the first.

So Starcourt it was.

When he turned eighteen he would be sold off to the highest bidder to take his virginity.

When the time came, Steve was one of the highest cherries ever sold by Starcourt to the tune of one million dollars. His parents went away with their money and Steve got his back blown by a thirty year old pop princess alpha, who still hires Steve to service her ruts on occasion if she’s in town.

*

Steve loved his job. What he loved even more than that was his beta handler, Robin.

“Hello!” he greeted warmly as she slip into his penthouse suite in the morning with his favorite coffee and muffins.

“Good morning!” Robin greeted back. “How was your night with Sir Kensington the third?”

Steve shrugged. “Boring. I loved the gala, but he just kept going on and on about how his estates had a water drainage problem and it kept flooding the basement. The first time I was sympathetic, the second time I was sincere, all the times after that? I could barely keep my eyes open! And! It strictly social, no sex. I would have tolerated it if there was at least the promise of mediocre sex afterwards.”

Robin winced. “Do you want him on your black list?” she asked, pulling out her tablet.

“Yes, please,” Steve said, pulling on a silk robe and sliding out of bed. “Send the usual black orchids and note.”

Robin nodded, making a note on her tablet. “And what do you want it to say?”

“When you take out a premier escort learn better material then irrigation. It was an irritation. If you want that kind of talk, get a mate for fuck’s sake. Passionately, S. Harrington.”

“Ooh,” Robin said with a grin. “It’s bitchy, succinct, and the most beautiful fuck you imaginable.”

Steve grinned back at her. “Thanks. I do so love to be bitchy. So what’s on my docket this week?”

“So you have a rut servicing with movie star Dillon Forrest starting tomorrow,” she said going through his schedule. “His ruts last three to four days and tends to get hungry right around day two. He hates cereal and protein bars or anything that ‘tastes like dirt’.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “As if that isn’t subjective as hell. And of course he doesn’t like the one thing that is the easiest to eat while literally out of his god damned mind.”

Robin hummed in agreement. “I’d try shakes, toss the protein powder in that.”

Steve nodded. “Make sure he’s house is stocked with fresh fruits and vegetables. Add some steaks or whatever to throw him off the scent. I’ll pack the protein powder in my kit.”

She nodded. “Next, you have the New Yorker charity gala with journalist Nancy Wheeler. She wants you in a tux, so I send in Pedro with your tuxes. Her dress is a metallic gold sequin slip dress with black lining.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I hate it when she wears metallic colors, it makes me looked washed out in comparison.”

“Sometimes I think she does it on purpose,” Robin groused.

Steve sighed. Nancy and he had dated briefly in high school before he presented as an omega and she an alpha. She actually had a mate, but Steve looked better on her arm at galas and charity events. That and her mate, Jonathan didn’t like the attention. He preferred to be behind the camera and not in front of it.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” he said. “Put her on the pre-check list.”

Robin nodded. The pre-check list was a way to give the escorts a chance to decline an offer before it was set in stone. Usually the handler did that, but there were some cases where an alpha would pull shit like what Nancy did it was good for the omega to get a feeling of the event before the contract was set.

“Wear the dark blue jewel tone jacket with the black button up. That will prevent you from looking washed out, it’ll complement the dress and you get to one up your ex.”

Steve grinned. “Thank you, darling!” He leaped up and kissed her cheek. “You’re the best.”

“Also a heads up about the gala,” Robin said. “Tommy’s been tapped to escort talk show host Billy Hargrove.”

Steve flopped on the sofa dramatically. “Argh! Tommy’s going to be insufferable.”

Robin nodded. Tommy and Steve were “rival” escorts (it was mostly in Tommy’s head) who competed for the best clients. A three-time Emmy award winning talk show host was more “prestigious” then a one-time Pulitzer winning investigative reporter. Especially since that reporter was Steve’s ex.

“And with Nancy trying to sabotage my look for the night, he’s going to be gloating the whole time!” Steve continued.

“Well, thankfully you have a handler that thinks of these things before hand,” Robin said, rolling her eyes. “If Tommy gets in your face about it, ask Billy when was the last time he had person of color as a guest.”

Steve sat up on the sofa. “He’s never had, as far as I’m aware.”

Robin shook her head. “He does the ‘pandering’ thing around award season to make sure the Academy doesn’t notice his blatant racism.”

“Oh,” Steve said, his eyes glittering with mischief, “that would be a terrible embarrassment if someone were to bring that up at gala for people in news hosted by a black alpha, wouldn’t?”

Robin grinned. “It would be a damn shame.”

“You really are my platonic soulmate!” He jumped off the couch and flounced off to the bathroom. “Anything else for this week?”

Robin shook her head. “The schedulers were wanting to keep this week a bit thin because of how busy next week will be.”

Steve glared over his shoulder. “Don’t remind me. Two multiples and a rut servicing.”

“At least the first one is just a threesome,” Robin said with a wince. “Two alphas that want a cute little omega to freshen up their sex lives without looking to bond.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, but the other is some manager of a rock band ordering a gang bang for them because their shitty song went gold or platinum or whatever.”

Robin grimaced. “Yeah, that is pretty tacky. What’s worse is that they are all alphas.”

Steve dropped his robe with a heavy sigh. “Who’s the rut for?”

Robin looked through her tablet again. “Oh well that’s something at least. It’s Lonnie Goodwin.”

“That is a relief,” Steve said, shimmying out of his white silk briefs. “Lonnie’s good for a laugh. Do you want me to see if I can get you and Vickie tickets to his next Netflix special?”

Robin lit up. “Hell yes. He’s Vickie’s favorite comedian and her birthday is coming up next month.”

“Done, darling.”

He got into the shower and turned on the water as hot as it would go. He needed to warm up his muscles to be nice and limber. He got out and dressed in exercise clothes to go for a run. He put in his earbuds and turned up his music. He stretched and warmed up before heading out.

Walking out of his apartment building, he waved goodbye the doorman, Keith and set off down the road. He was listening to the band who was requesting the gang bang. Steve knew that the best way to get over an awkward beginning was to talk about things they were interested in.

So as part of his prep leading up to a client Steve liked to go through their social media, if they were famous any interviews they’ve done. Watch any movies or shows they’ve been in. Just really diving deep into their lives so that it was less a transaction and more like a date.

It was why Steve was so sought after, he never made his clients feel shame for hiring him.

Unfortunately that didn’t always go both ways. An escort at its core was still a sex worker and people still had problems with those. Even the ones doing the hiring of said escort.

But that’s why each escort had a handler. A beta that could come in and break up anything that might go wrong. Which is Steve loved Robin. He had seen her take down a raging alpha like it was a Sunday afternoon walk in the park. She looked thin and scrawny, but she was scrappy and tenacious.

When he came back from his run he showered again to get clean and then he slipped into some comfortable clothes to lounge around in. He could have done anything today. The Starcourt management team was intent on making sure their omegas had plenty of time between clients to rest, shop, hang out with their friends.

Starcourt omegas were some of the best kept omegas in the country, and it showed.

Steve would have done those other things if tomorrow wasn’t a rut servicing. They tended to be heavy on the exhausting side. Both physically and emotionally.

Because despite being infertile, they still experienced all the things that fertile omega did. Scenting, bonding, heats all came with being an omega whether you had the capability to have pups or not. There were always going to be times an artificial bond would occur, even with all the blockers they were on.

The bond would fade after a couple of days, but it was still hard on the omega when it happened.

Half way through his binge watching of the latest Netflix K-drama, Pedro came in with the tuxedos. They were blue jewel tones of varying shades and styles.

Once they had decided on a short jacket and necktie combo, his assistant Janica came in with accessories to chose from. Once everything was picked out, they went away again.

He debated going out to eat over making himself dinner. A couple of the omega escorts he knew had a professional chef, Tommy chief among them, but he liked to cook his own meals.

He decided to go out to eat, because he was going to be locked up in a room for the next few days and needed to get out for bit.

He got dressed in his favorite blue jeans, a blank tank top, and white short sleeved button up, that was left unbuttons. He pulled on his Nike’s and grabbed his cell phone and keys.

There was a taxi waiting for him by the time he got to the lobby. He loved his job.

He picked a nice restaurant near his place and sat down for a damn fine hamburger and fries.

At the end of the meal the waiter came up to him.

“Just charge the Starcourt account,” Steve said with a wave of his hand.

The waiter’s eyes went wide and he scrambled to do as he was told.

Steve left a hundred dollar tip on the table and then wandered back to the front of the restaurant where the same taxi took him back to his building. Where he finished the series with a tub of cookie dough ice cream.

****

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

So much world building in this. Which is why it takes so long to get to Eddie. But have no fear, none of what I'm putting in the next chapters is fluff. It will all make sense once we get to the Eddie chapters.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @lexirosewrites @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @yikes-a-bee @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @lingeringmirth @rememberthatiloveyou @demolvr

[echantedtoon]

Ocean Deep Ch17 Miscommunications And Escape Plans P2

(Warnings: Mentions of Yn's wounds, Koyuki's condition, and some fighting/blood/scratches from the mers.

The story is almost done! Almost a few chapters left!:))

taglist: @six-eyed-samurai @lavenderdrxp @jjamsbangtan @camilo-uwu @hopefulworld1

@shadyd3ar @amypop122 @azuredragonstrike

@mimisweetz @chaoticoperatorduckhairdo @staarflowerr @aleee-386 @summrwalkr

@nicora04 @miniverse-zen

Remember if you want to be added to the tag list lemme know.

You wished you knew what happened to them all after they started sparing. Or in Akaza's and Tengen's case actually fighting after purposely antagonizing him. The two hissing at each other and snarling out. Honestly you couldn't even tell who was winning because most of the fight was UNDER the water with them randomly popping up every few seconds either splashing up huge waves or showing themselves punching, or Akaza having Tengen in a headlock or some other thing 

Actually it was Kanae who once again took action after a particular shark mer shouted out-

"KANAE!! ARE YOU FUCKING WATCHING!?" Somehow he had gotten himself free from the deadpanned Giyuu and now held the bored merman in a choke hold of his own looking hopefully at the pink eyed woman. "I'm dedicating this win to you!"

Her pretty face quickly turned to a frown and she had enough. Reaching out to grab the window and slam it back shut with surprisingly enough strength to shake the glass panes. The loud THUD from the window had everyone aside from Tengen and Akaza still clawing and biting at each other to give pause, looking up just as the curtains were harshly drawn. 

"I am at my limits! This has gone too far! I explained it to him how many times?!," Kanae muttered to herself turning around and beginning to stomp off towards the door. "I'm going to go work off some stress and make everyone lunch! Let them all sort themselves out!"

Everyone flinched as the door was thrown open and Kanae stomped out of sight. The footfalls echoing away heading towards assembly the kitchen area before everyone looked at one another. You exchanged looks with Mitsuri before slowly turning to Shinobu, mouth opening-

"Don't worry about her." Shinobu didn't look the least bit bothered waving a hand. "She needs to blow off the stress anyways. Why don't you just try to relax and get some rest. Today's already been pretty exciting for you wasn't it?"

"I-..Well maybe I should on them first?" You gave a glance at the window. "To make sure they're alright?"

"Don't give them anymore attention." She shook her head no firmly. "You'll just be feeding into Tengen's 'fantastic' ideas and who knows what the gems for brains will do next?"

Actually...After that whole scary chase sequence and sudden kiss attack (which you were NOT blushing remembering!) you think you had better let everyone cool down and maybe take a stand back...Yeah. that's probably the better idea. So you followed Shinobu's advice no matter how difficult it was, and busied yourself with just going back to read the book. Who knows? It might have more helpful information. 

However you had a hard time sleeping that night. There was some kind of..low humming along with the wind. It started out as some kind of low baritone but then pitched up to a few high notes. It almost sounded like a wind chime was ringing alongside the deep humming of a horn. A strange mixture to be sure, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was more annoying than anything since you didn't fall asleep for at least an hour. 

The next day was when you were sure going to be interesting. You really hadn't seen your friends in so long and was wondering if they were ok. You wanted to really go out and see how they were but shortly after you woke up there was another meeting with all of you courtesy of Kanae. The Kocho girl had pushed in the door startling both you and Koyuki as she practically forced her way in and carried a large black slate with white chalk, with more of that fish soup(yuck) and some bread. At least there was something else to wash it down with. Again Kanae was careful in making sure no one else was around before setting down the chalkboard. 

"Alright. I think I have most everything figured out, but because you're new we need to clue you in " she explained already drawing a sixth stick figured next to the five ones already present.

"Where's the others?" The only ones here were you, Kanae, and Koyuki but Koyuki was still fast asleep. 

"Mitsuri is keeping Obanai busy. He's decided to help himself inside again, and my sisters are out gathering more herbs to make it look normal."

"Good idea." You looked back down to the chalkboard between you two trying not to jostle your shoulder which was still extremely more too much. "Clue me in here." You motioned towards the stick figures and the mini drawings around them.

She nodded looking focused. "In about a week the tides rise and the current near here is strongest! Because of the abundance of wildlife during these hours, they usually all go out hunting for most of the night. All we need is a good few hours of a strong current and we can be on land."

"What do we do when we get back to land?"

"We'll figure that out when we get there. Right now the problem is getting onto land." The chalk made a small line as she circled the stick figures and what looked like a crudely drawn window.  "We found enough pillows to stuff under our blankets to make it look like we're just sleeping in." In case of Obanai you supposed. "We'll wait until they're all gone and climb through the back window. It's on the side of the house not facing the beach so they won't see us if we go that way."

"Good idea! But where's the boat exactly?" 

Her voice dropped to almost a whisper as she quickly glanced at the locked door before looking back to you. "It's just up the beach nearly on the far side, but we know a short cut to get there through the woods. We found a few oars in case we need to paddle our way there." She pointed out a crudely drawn boat.

"Sounds good, but what do we do in the meantime?" 

"Act as we always do. If they don't suspect anything, then we can have a better chance of escaping." Her smile came back a little bit looking at the board.. before her hand wiped across the black smearing the white away and erasing any existence of their plan. 

"Oh, wow." 

"I know! I thought about this a lot-"

"No. I can see why Sanemi fell for you." Pink eyes blinked up to kind f/c orbs as you smiled. "You're really pretty when you smile! I can see why he might like you."

She stared at you longer before frowning and looking back down to the slate. "I don't care. I want to go home. N-Not spend the rest of my days being hounded by a shark. I don't care how many times he tries to serenade me."

You paused in the middle of taking a bite of your bread to look at her. "What?"

"Ugh. He does it every other day. You wouldn't know only being here for four days. He just sits on the beach and starts singing, and he always looks like he's after my approval or something! He never goes away unless I say it's nice O-Or I'm too tired!" Her face turned into a pretty pour as she grumpily gestured at nothing. "Who does he think I am? I'm not some girl who he can just woo into his arms and-"

"Oh that's cute." Her face snapped to your smirk so fast that her head might've popped off if it wasn't attached to her neck. "You so like him."

"WHAT?!" Immediately her face lit up a pink and you laughed. 

"Oh come on. I didn't know that I was being flirted with before because I knew absolutely nothing about mermaids." The bread was pointed right at her. "But I'm certainly an expert on detecting human emotions."

"Yes? A-And how w-would you kn-kn-know that?!"

"I'm a florist. Do you know how many people bought flowers from me?" Your deadpanned brows rose higher at her face which mysteriously started to go a pink. "How many couples have come in looking for flowers for their crushes?" A bite was taken out of the breath making your voice slightly muffled. "How many weddings I did arrangements for? I've seen so many people in love, that I know it when I see it."

Her mouth opened up and no noise came out..Her head shook before she frowned harder. "I-I am not!"

"Uh. Stuttering, blushing, hardcore denial.." You swallowed. "Not to mention we all saw the way you watched Sanemi tussle with Giyuu the other day. Can't say I blame you. A nice beefy shark man, all soft for only you."

"S-Stop!"

You laughed as she hid her face in her hands, it went from pink to red. "Come on. Every girl dreams of being serenaded by moonlight. That's like the most romantic thing a guy could do other than coming to you on a pure white stallion." You grinned wider. "He's outside right now you know. I bet he'd be really happy to know that you like him-"

"My god's! If you say anything about this, then I won't treat you anymore!"

"Aha!" You pointed at her frowning face. "You aren't denying it!"

"Let's just get back to what's really important!" She quickly changed the subject grabbing the chalkboard off the floor as you snickered. "S-So you know what this entails?"

You decided to cut her a break and stop teasing her no matter how amusing it was. "Yes. I understand perfectly. But do you have anything else besides fish soup? It tastes bitter."

You were about to answer but a noise from up the hallway caused you both to whip to the door wide eyed. Quickly you snatched the chalkboard on the floor and shoved it under your knees to hide it, shoving Kanae's hand still holding the chalk as she flinched. Hiding it in one of her dress sleeves before the door slid open and you nearly fainted on sight. Right there. Standing in the doorway. Was A GIANT NAGA!! His human half looked about normal height as he stuck his head in. A mess of choppy black hair swaying messily from his head, and a mitch match of green-yellow slitted eyes narrowed on the inside. You couldn't see most of his body thanks to the black cloak hanging from him, the white scarf tied around his neck, and some kind of homemade mask slapped over half his face. 

His eyes narrowed more at the both of you before he pointed. "Why was this the only door closssed in the house?"

Good lord if his voice didn't send a fearful shiver down your back. You could see why Kanae was so careful around him. However she only turned to him with a polite smile. 

"Hello, Obanai. I was just giving Y/n her food." She gestured to the bread you were thankfully still holding. "We want her to feel comfortable with that wound on her shoulder you know."

"That still doesn't tell me why the door'sss closed?"

"What are you? A pervert?!" 

Kanae looked at you wide eyed and the snake snapped an annoyed look at you. "And what is that supposed to mean?!" He demanded.

You did your best to look very annoyed and pointed accusingly to him. "She has to check my bandages which I remind you are on my back! I'm supposed to just leave the door open so you can peek at me?!" His expression went shocked quickly- "WHAT KIND OF PERVERTED SNAKE ARE YOU?!"

"I-I'M NOT!! IT'S JUST-" He sputtered wide eyed but ducked as you harmlessly threw your bread at him. 

"GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I GET TENGEN ON YOU, YOU SLIMEY SERPENT!!"

THUNK!!

Obanai rammed face first into the doorframe in his way to try to get away. His eyes rolled a bit dizzy before he shook his head-

"GET OUT!!"

"M'sorrymsorry-" 

He jumped, quickly slithering away from the doorway and you both saw a massive black and white stripped tail before the rest disappeared from sight. There was a pause before Kanae sighed again and turned back to you. 

"Nice save."

"I just thought of the quickest excuse I could think of. Seemed like a good enough one."

She smiled wider at you. "Well try to eat  for now. I'll discuss more with you later when I get a chance to chat normally."

You nodded as she stood up to leave and turned back to your bowl of soup still on the floor. And sighed. Too bad you threw your bread, but food was food you guessed. Kanae smiled as she slowly walked out of the room and into the hallway. Obanai was no where to be seen so that means Y/n's scare tactic worked in driving him off at least. She settled on heading towards her room (or temporary room as she wouldn't be staying here for long) and starting on sewing those few extra pillows together for dummies come the night  

"Kanae!," a woman's voice called out followed by a series of rapidly approaching footsteps. She paused in her steps and turned around to the sight of Mitsuri speed walking towards her waving a hand. "Wait up!"

"What is it?"

She skidded to a stop in front of her and looked excited about something. "You're never going to believe this! Obanai gave me something really important!"

Her face dropped. "Mitsuri, you know that we can't accept anything or else-"

"I know, I know. But it's not for me. It's for you! TADA!!" Her hand was thrusted up and held out a familiar shape. "Obanai was gonna give it to you before he left but for some reason he was in a hurry or he asked me to give it to you instead!"

"Obanai got a gift? For me?"

 Why would the serpent do that? Was he trying to court her now because Mitsuri kept saying no? Or was he trying to butter up Mitsuri by getting gifts for her friends? Maybe he was hoping Kanae would help him out with Mitsuri if he flattered her enough?

Her pretty pink braids swayed as she shook her head. "It's not so much a gift as he was just returning something of yours." 

She again nudged what was in her hand at her. A familiar sight of a small clippy was in her hand, in the unmistakable shape of a green and pink butterfly. Pink eyes widened greatly looking between her and the clippy- Mitsuri held it further towards her and she slowly took it, hands shaking. It felt heavy yet light in her hands. The usual shiny outside dirty from sand and other dirt catching onto it, but it looked generally unharmed. 

"My clip." A bright smile broke into her face as she clutched it to her and beamed. "Our father gave us these, but I lost one when they-...H-How did he find this?"

"Oh it wasn't him." Mitsuri corrected not registering for the reaction she would soon receive next from her correction. "Sanemi found it actually!"

Her face. Dropped. And goodness being sapped away like a cloth slowly wiping up water from a spill. "..What?"

She nodded happily. "Yeah! He wanted Obanai to give you it since he can't move on land! Isn't that so sweet!" She gushed in light of the new emotion crawling over Kanae's face. "He went through all the trouble just to give it back to you. Isn't that-"

She blinked as a formed walked past her, slightly bumping into Mitsuri on her way down the hall and towards the still open front door. You had just stood up holding the bowl your soup had been in, and on your way to drop it off in the kitchen. Maybe there was more bread there or some fresh water to wash down the bitter taste of sardines away. Your feet had barely taken two steps-

"Is this some kind of sick joke to you?!"

You paused in your walking. Koyuki startled awake with a soft snort, blinking tired pink eyes and swaying messy black hair as she sat up. 

"No really?! Is this just some kind of sick reverse phycology where you think I'm going to fall for you!? Oh yes! I'm surely going to fall for you after you returned my clippy. Nevermind it's your fault I lost it in the first place!"

That sounded like Kanar. A much more angry version of Kanae.

"What's going on?," Koyuki asked as you passed by her to peer out the window to the beach.

Kanae was there. Her back was towards you so you couldn't see her face, but her hands were clenched and her arms gestured wildly. In the ocean in front of her was a few mermaids which included Kyojuro lounging in a shallow part of the water, and the Sanemi guy. All were looking shocked and wide eyed at the wildly gesturing woman as she continued her tirade.

"When are you going to get it through your head!? I DON'T LOVE YOU!! I don't even like you!!" Her hand pointed directly at the wide eyed shark mer. There was no mistaking who she was talking about. "No matter what you do! No matter what you try! I will NEVER love you! I DONT WANT YOU!! I WANT TO GO HOME!! AND DON'T YOU DARE SAY THIS IS MY HOME!! THIS IS NOT MY HOME!! THIS IS A PRISON EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU KEEP US TRAPPED BECAUSE  A L L OF YOU ARE TOO STUPID TO UNDERSTAND THAT WE DON'T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU ALL!!"

You could only stare wide eyed and speechless at what you silently witnessed. If you had looked behind you, then you would've seen Koyuki sporting a similar reaction to what she was hearing.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU ALL! WHY CAN'T YOU ALL JUST LEAVE US ALONE ALREADY!?"

Her form turned and ran back towards the home to which you strained your neck to watch her from the window for as long as you could become you couldn't see her anymore. Koyuki jumped when a loud sound of a door slamming shut signaled her arrival back inside. Without thinking about it your feet jogged up to the door, at the same time rapid footsteps ran up the hall. 

"KANAE?!" 

If she heard your voice then she didn't react to you. Only continuing past you as you leaned out the doorway in time to catch a glimpse of her form disappearing up the stairs at the end of the hall. A loud slamming of a second door echoing  throughout the house. There was a pause as silence resumed..And then the distant soft sounds of loud crying filtered through the air and softly sprinkled down onto everyone's ears. 

Still reeling with shock, Mitsuri approached the stairs gingerly and quietly. Her footfalls barely making a sound as her guilty face stared upwards. "Kanae?" Her voice did not reach her ears making a heavy guilt weigh in her chest. "..Oh me and my big mouth. This is all my fault."

"Don't say that." She jumped turning to monotone f/c eyes as they also stared up in the direction of the loud sobs. "This isn't any of your faults. I know how she feels, and it can't be easy for anyone."

"Oh. What are we going to do?"

"...You go up there and see if you can calm her down." A head turned. F/c eyes narrowing at the door. "I'll just step outside and make sure everything is okay out there."

A gathering of mers outside in distress and argument did not notice the small figure step outside or open the door. Did not see her stomp up towards the shore's edge. Didn't see her scoop up a fist of wet sand in her hand and reel back her good shoulder. Until looked up-

SPLAT!! 

"Now that I got all of your attention- PAY ATTENTION OR ELSE!"

[deafsignifcantother]

if music be the food of love, chapter 5

♥ here you go lovies, it’s series time | chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter six ♥ summary: a cute comfort fic teehee and featuring their playful bickering ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (queerplatonic to romance) ♥ word count: 4.3k ♥ pinterest board ♥ notes: so essentially my concept is that reader isn't a 'sinner' at all and is just a gentle girl who has these abilities just because of a vengence she has + also i hold onto my thoughts that her radio shit is genuinely a curse because of her actions. not really within context of this story but i wanted to add that to emphasize that that is why alastor doesn't know how to talk to her sometimes. ♥ no tag list rn :3

You can't ignore him, especially when he pops into your room. He didn't want to, but with Charlie asking nicely and Vaggie threatening him, he rolled his eyes before giving in. You were the last person he wanted to see, and everyone knew that Charlie asked Husk first.

But nobody wants to get close to you when your songs are so miserable.

Angel walked by your room and burst into tears, as did Charlie when she went to knock on it. Even she couldn't overcome the nightmarish visions you forced into her head.

She gets it now, how terrifying you make people. She understands why you isolated yourself.

Alastor's first thought was to ask you to leave, especially since you brought despair to his employees. But after putting his fingers on his temples, he realized he needed to put his stubbornness aside and be a friend (in actuality, Charlie got mad when he talked about it).

He's never had to comfort you before. His eyes dart around the room, avoiding your saddening form. What does he say? The whole thing was somebody else's idea; he didn't have the time to think about something to say.

What would make you happy?

He sneaks up to you, hiding his static, wanting a second to see how you pose yourself in isolation. The eerie violins show no signs of dissipating; you keep still under your blankets; anyone could have mistaken you for sleeping, but he's watched you long enough to know the difference. Deep down, he is grateful that you won't show him what true terror is the way you do to others; he can't even imagine what his version of torture would be.

Should he say that you can ever push him away? That must be it...it's what you would only dream of him saying.

The first thing he does is have his shadow travel on the wall attached to your bed, where you can make eye contact with it. A bit of static joins your music. It's pretty endearing.

When you reach out to touch it, he's seized by the urge to leave the room and ditch it there to comfort you. Is that all it would take? Judging by your music's influx, he may still sense the harmful waves.

A chill seems to run up your spine, and to your shoulders, and in a slow turn, you look at him. What a sweet girl, he thinks. But then you whip your head back towards the wall. His eyebrow twitches.

Alright. Playtime.

He emerges from his shadow in the blank of an eye and lays on the bed next to you, on his side, propping himself up by the elbow. Your eyelids flicker at the sight of him.

Your hand noses between your bodies, and in a careful push, you shove his face away from you. He stares at the wall. When his eyes meet yours, there's a warning, and you pull away.

You strain and turn around, but his hand yanks you back to face him.

"Stop trying," you sign.

'You've changed so much,' he said yesterday, facial expression portraying nothing but disgust. And with his prideful smile, 'Overlords rise and fall, and I remain through it all.'

With your signs, he stays still, brain racing. "I'm not trying anything."

"I know you don't care, who asked you to be here?"

He almost responds with an answer. He lifts his hands to his shoulders, the ghost of 'princess' on his hands, before he transitions it to, "We all care about you, my dear."

He struggles. "I care for you."

"You're lying."

When you turn away, he lets you. But that doesn't mean he doesn't grab your waist and pull you against him, making room for him to transport right in front of your face again.

"Why don't you stop trying to drive me away? It's not going to work. I'm not going anywhere. I never have."

Except for the years he left you alone, you retort only with your expression. You both skip over that conversation.

"You always came back." You sign.

Alastor is winning you over. He knew that would work. Even your music has started to lighten up, though the minor key is still prominently lingering.

"Of course I do, darling."

For a simple test, you lean your head forward, and with an instinct he regretted, he presses his forehead against yours. But it's not enough to calm you down. He notices the lack of motion in the room, how still your hips are, and how small your breathing is. Your neck, as gorgeous as it is, is bent at an uncomfortable angle to match him. He knows it hurts you, so like the gentleman he is, his big hands cup your neck and cheek, letting you rest against him.

There you go; your music calms completely. Was it that easy for you to forgive him? You must genuinely relish him. You couldn't process the next several seconds. His forehead pulls away from yours, and your eyes widen when he moves closer and presses his lips against your forehead. They don't perk like a kiss but rather brush against you.

And then he disappears, his task considered done, and he leaves you flustered (on purpose). That asshole. Lukewarm air passes over your shoulders. Hell's days are always warm, but you find yourself shivering uncontrollably. He's only held you like that once before, the last visit before he left for what felt like an eternity. His lips felt like Heaven then, just as they do now.

After a few minutes of lying in your bed, exasperated at his fleeing, especially after holding you in your bed like that, you try to grasp how much he probably disliked doing that (unbeknownst to you, false, it was just the uneasiness if you were going to do something).

Flickering lights grab your attention, and you turn around to see Charlie flicking your light switch, already half inside the room. With an awkward wave, she invites herself in, fiddling with her hands. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Your eyes widen. You're in trouble, aren't you? Will they kick you out? Is this the end of everything? "I'm sorry for all that," you try to act casual, "Sometimes it happens."

Which is the most dismissive way to describe it.

Charlie just smiled softly, shaking her head. She keeps walking into the room, perhaps because of the urgency, which explains her bad manners.

"No, no, you don't have to worry about that—this isn't about you," she reassured you, resting a hand on your shoulder. "I need to ask you something."

Even more ominous.

"What possibly?" You sit up in bed properly, letting your legs dangle from the side. "Am I supposed to be keeping a secret? Is it about Alastor?" The words slip. Those sentences together are the worst combination.

"It's... Partially about him, yes." She responds, letting out a breath she didn't realize she was even holding. How is she going to explain this? You look her up and down, taking in every bit of her body language.

"Partially?"

She nods, beginning to fumble her hands together as she tries to form words. You stay patient, letting her figure it out for herself while at the same time screaming inside. Even your music starts to change.

She forces out whatever she can muster. "How long have you known him?"

"Since the moment he entered Hell we've known each other. Now tell me why you ask?"

Charlie begins to fidget as soon as you confirm, almost like she doesn't want to continue that conversation. She took another deep breath before responding. "Has he always acted like this? Did something change him?"

"Goodness gracious, will there be an overall point to this? He maintains his ideals, yes." You put a hand on your forehead to calm yourself down.

"That wasn't what I asked you."

Your eyes pierce hers, the look in your eyes reminding her that you were an Overlord, while the stare she has reminds you that she could kill you in an instant. Charlie Morningstar is glaring at you.

"He hasn't changed." You start off slowly, making sure she can understand. "You can trust me on that. There isn't any drastic events in his time in Hell and he will never change."

You say the lie as if it's second nature. From the time you left, something could have happened to him. With the differences in his composure, having less goofiness than you once remembered, you know it must have been something.

"That's exactly what I'm concerned about."

"Oh, he's not going to hurt anyone here." Your laugh doesn't comfort her. "If he wanted to, he would have already."

She has always assumed that, but hearing it from one of his closest friends makes her feel better.

She needed to come to you to confirm her beliefs. She trusts Alastor, but only to some extent. His motives are questionable. However, if you trust him, then why shouldn't she?

"Do you really think so?

"I know so. Don't you go worrying about it, princess."

She takes a deep breath, her smile returning. "Thank you. And-And thank you for being here! I gotta tell Vaggie."

The interaction ends with her grabbing your hands, nodding, blushing, and turning away with excitement in her steps. So delighted to keep her lover happy.

You look around your room, searching for any clue of Alastor's shadow. You wouldn't want him to know you were just talking about him. With no sign of him, the privacy offered calms your nerves.

You strip off the nightgown, definitely shooing away any of his shadows that could have been around. Brush your hair and tie lace layers to your waist before putting on the final layers of your dress. You look just as you did those bizarre years ago. A smile reaches your face, one that only you have witnessed.

.

"You keeping yourself busy?" You sign, sitting down at the bar. The slight ting of melancholia in your music makes Husk's eyes water, but he swallows the lump in his throat so as not to make you feel guilty.

"You could say that."

There's a childish kick of your legs. "Did you know I was coming?"

"Of course I did. We can hear you from a mile away."

"Not like that, Husk," you laugh and wave at him. "I meant when Alastor left."

But the conversation is closed before it can even start.

"Ah, finally, you've joined us!" Alastor's shadow dances across the walls before Alastor sits next to you.

"Yeah, I had to eventually." You give him the most comforting smile.

"What have you been doing since this morning?"

You give a joyous smirk, sarcasm evident. "I can ask you the same thing."

"Oh, you know," he plays along, "the usual. Nothing. Nothing here satisfies my interest."

“Interests like cannibalism? Gruesome murder? Your boredom must be unbearable! Were you waiting for me to join you?”

“Oh my, how sadistic of you. Are you a glutton of violence and murder, my dear?”

"Maybe I am, everybody loves letting off a little steam."

He laughed softly and stood beside you after you sat at the bar. His smile never left his face, even as he gave you a look that screamed oh, bullshit. You still have those tendencies?

“Oh yes, of course. A very common thing, letting off steam. So tell me, my dear,” he leans forward against the bar, "How do you like to let off steam then?”

You avoid his question for a few seconds as you point to a bottle on the shelf, Husk throwing a thumbs up before treating you. You lick your lips. "Going around luring people in, I suppose. Showing people their true weaknesses. The same old, same old, ah, do you remember?"

His smile widens, and his movements grow almost excited and cheerful. “Ah yes, what a pleasing reminder. I vividly remember you tearing hearts out of people,” he says with a soft chuckle. His eyes look you over once more before signing speaks again. “Though, I also recall how you hated getting bloody."

You laugh. "Ah yes, it was the stickiness. I used to ask you to poof it off for me." You wave a hand dismissively, a small smile growing. Husk stares at you two and the joyous banter between friends and he gets a sick feeling in his gut. Two dangerous and terrorizing overlords laugh as if they're humans again. There's no worse thing in Hell.

He chuckles once more and gives a small roll of his eyes before leaning forward and putting an arm around your shoulders. He pulled you closer gently, making sure you didn't topple over.

“Oh, and how you'd hate touching me whenever you saw me after a meal. You wouldn't even shake my hand!” He continues as he moves his hand and fiddles with a strand of your hair. “Though, I suppose it’s quite ironic.”

"Ironic?"

His smile turns into a smirk, his hand still gently playing with a strand of your hair as he signs sarcastically.

“Oh my dear, you really are quite simple sometimes, aren’t you? You can incapacitate anybody to the point of unrecognition right in front of me, yet you never seem to enjoy seeing me when I do. Quite ironic, don’t you think?”

"You're a tad bit scary, and I wouldn't consider myself as scary as you. You looked frightening, and I'm afraid I looked beautiful." A small laugh leaves your lips. Your thoughts flicker through all the moments you've seen him covered head to toe in blood, the moments where he'd just smile and address you like nothing was wrong.

He continues to smile without faltering, his head tilting, and he sits so close to you that Angel starts paying attention with wide eyes.

“And too beautiful, I’d say. Your victims just fall into your lap, imagine a world where mine would! But of course, I find myself enjoying the chase."

Great, Husk thinks, now they're bantering like serial killers.

"Alastor, all of Hell would be extinct if people just fell into your lap."

His eyes were locked on yours, a soft and almost mocking expression on his face. “Let’s be honest, darling. I doubt all of Hell would be gone.”

"You'd save Rosie," you list off people. "Mimzy, of course, if you're considerate enough. Hmm, who else? Nifty, what a charming woman."

He gave a soft roll of his eyes and decided to list more names.

“Ah yes, you can’t forget old Husker at the bar can you! After all, he does keep me entertained with all his sarcasm and wit." His eyes slide over to the cat in question, who avoids his gaze to pretend he's having a deep conversation with Angel.

"That's all I can think of!" You smile to yourself, both of you playing around with the apparent other option. "But I doubt you'd enjoy life without victims. That's your forte down here. Or... most certainly ever."

All he offers is a slight nod in agreement. “That’s absolutely correct, darling. I would probably be dreadfully bored without all those wonderful victims to have my fun with, and my dear, you'd never become one of them. I'd keep you here.”

"What if you get too bored and decide to kill me off?" Your smile becomes lopsided when you try not to laugh. The drink before you finally gets touched as you bring it to your lips, continuing to sign with the other hand. "I'd leave your little party."

“Oh, please. As if I would ever kill you. After all, you keep me entertained when you're near.” He says, eyes gleaming in amusement as his eyes lock onto yours, his smile growing wider as he rests an elbow on the table, his entire body facing you.

"What a compliment," You put the drink down a little too hard. "You know how to make a lady blush."

The same smile stays on his face, not faltering as he lets out a soft, almost ridiculous chuckle, knowing you can't hear it. He replies as if you weren't being sarcastic.

“Oh, I always knew how to properly flatter people!" He pauses for a moment, grabs your drink, and cheers to you. “Though I do believe I like it when you blush more.”

He downs it as if it's nobody's business.

"I can tell," and that's the only response you give to that. "Has Charlie given you any demands today?" You quickly change the topic, trying to keep the casualness from becoming something more.

He leans back from the bar, shaking his head. "Oh, I wish she gave me something fun to do. Something to keep me preoccupied, but I was once again given nothing.”

"Do you have any plans, then? Something to help your forever boredom?"

He pauses, simply sitting in place with a smaller smile as he seems to think for a moment. “Hmm, not a single thing, I suppose. My only plan for the evening was to see you again! That lovely music of yours tells me that you feel much better.”

"Always better when I see you," you try to say but end up rolling your eyes sarcastically, turning away. "Thank you for that. I know I scared the others."

“Oh, please. You scaring the others is quite the common occurrence at this point. I doubt it surprises anyone anymore.” The loud laugh you give him helps him continue, “And of course! No need to thank me, I'll always be here now.”

"Very funny, what a comedian you are." The looming sensitivity of the topic doesn't fail to make me feel a twinge of guilt. It's embarrassing how much you depend on him, though he must enjoy it greatly with how much he edges it on.

“Oh my, my dear, always getting sarcastic with me, I do wonder why.”

"Do you like?"

“Until the day we die."

"How sweet!" It's your turn to cheer to him. "If we died together, I'd be such a winner. Or would you?"

Angel puts a hand between you two and signs the few sentences he knows. "Get a room."

Alastor barks out a laugh while you just smile.

"This is a room! How witty you are, Angel Dust."

He turns to you for approval, and his smirk grows wider when he sees your smile and the hint of genuineness in your eyes; his lids fall down almost teasingly. You focus on Angel's glance at you, where you just give the smallest shrug at him. Alastor continues the chatter and pretends Angel isn't even there. Husker tries to wave Angel away with a warning. If you're going to piss off anybody, don't let it be those two.

“Oh, I always win, darling. You really should know that by now.”

His signing is filled with gliding in a way that only an old-fashioned man can manage.

"You won me over." A blatant confession, but you pretend all it is is a friendly remark. "And you won the trust of the princess of Hell! I guess that's just the charisma you're known for. I always knew you would accomplish something great. When you first arrived, I remember how you started your reputation by picking off overlords like they were flies. You should have heard the gossip Zestial started!" And the most impactful change of tone, "Can I ask a question?"

His smile grows almost wider at your acknowledgments. Good to know he left an excellent first impression. His response lands in his brain, but he considers communicating it, a hint of amusement lingering in his eyes as he slowly nods once, signaling for you to go on.

“Of course you can ask a question, dear.”

"Why didn't you kill me?" Your smile seems to grow. A few days ago, if you were to ask, you would be frowning and nervously looking away. But the rather blunt words he forced you to comprehend last night cause you to realize just how much you've lost the attitude you were known for. When did emotions get ahold of you?

“Now, now, dear, you didn’t seriously think I’d kill you, did you? You should know that the day we met, you have captivated me. I wouldn’t simply kill you after being so captivated by you. Now, why didn't you try and kill me?”

His question has never crossed your mind. Your eyes widen a bit. Alastor relishes in catching you off guard.

"For the same reason, of course. There's nothing better than someone bewitching." You place a hand on your cheek.

"Well, I’d consider it fair, seeing how you haven’t tried to kill me.”

The huff Husk gives doesn't go unnoticed by either of you. You turn to him, a silent notion that he's been counted, and gesture back up to the drink he poured for you again. This time, he makes another one for Alastor. "Oh please," Alastor pushes the second drink towards you. "It was absolutely disgusting."

You roll your eyes, taking a painfully loud sip from the glass and letting out an 'ah' when finished. But then your eyebrows furrow, processing the sentence he had previously said.

"Haven't? Don't you mean hadn't? I wouldn't even think about killing you now." Once again, you shrug, but lighter this time. "Young man, you know that you'd win."

"Well, I'm certainly glad you've realized that your taste in drinks is absolutely dreadful.” His ears flatten on his head. "Did you seriously just call me a ‘young man’? Really, darling?”

"I'm older," you remind, playfully shaking your shoulders, tilting your head back and forth as you do so. "You're a young man to me, never forget. I could just almost pinch your cheeks."

“Oh, well, excuse me, grandma.” He says, mocking your gesture. “Never say young man ever again. Or that you can ‘pinch my cheeks.’”

"So defensive." The drink once again finds its way to your lips. "Next time I hold your face, I'm going to pinch your cheeks. I got to catch you by surprise."

"You'll never be able to touch me again."

"You wouldn't be able to live without it. Don't pretend not." You swivel the stool, ensuring one of your shoulders blocks Husk's sight. "I know your secrets."

“What can I say, darling?" Both of his hands go up as he shrugs. "You're getting rather confident, aren't you?"

Is that a threat? You lean back, eyebrows furrowing. "Aren't you the confident one here?"

His fingers gently grab your chin and pull your face closer to his, his eyes studying you closely. “My, what a cute question, darling."

You two should definitely get a room.

"Maybe not confident," you tease, "Perhaps passionate? I would never want to be in the way of your passions. What would I do if you went all big scary monster on me?"

What a curious way to phrase it. Do you consider it a 'big scary monster' when his limbs contort and his bones crack? That's the charisma he's always loved.

"Do I not scare you, my love?”

The question surprises you a bit; the tone of it unmatches the previous tension. "No, of course not."

His once-consistent smile grows enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes. He shakes his head slightly in a soft yet sarcastic manner.

“No, of course you’re not afraid of me, darling. You’re never afraid of me. Always so fearless when you’re around me, isn’t that right?”

His cracked, sour casualness gives a dynamic much love when side by side with your relaxed attitude. You smirk and shake your head. "I'm as brave as a lion."

"Of course you are."

"Then it's settled, I should have no reason to be scared of you. Case closed." You stand, extending your hand to shake his. "To mutual respect." He stares at it, wondering if he can trick you into a deal at this very minute. He glances up at you, eyeing you closely as he slowly and gently takes your hand.

“Ah, yes. To mutual respect." He shakes your hand firmly and politely. Another day.

"Perfect." You pull away, looking around the room at where to go next. Sit on the couch? How boring. You can slide down the stairs railings; that would be more exhilarating. "You said you wanted to see me this evening? Is there really anything to do around here? Do you just sit and dissociate all day?"

He sighed when you pull your hand away from his. His eyes still follow you closely. His smirk dropped slightly, misperceiving your words.

“My, how cruel. You really think all I do is sit and dissociate all day?”

"It's what you do instead of sleeping. Quite unsettling, Alastor."

"Always awake, my love. Always awake."

"Definitely. Yeah, my mistake."

Your smile reminds him of the decades you've spent together just having a long conversation. It's the type of conversation two married people would have when they get ready for work in the morning.

Sitting on the couch ended up being a good idea. You miss making him laugh. Alastor always looks at you as if he wants your blessing, his eyes remaining on you, watching your every expression and reaction to his words.

It's a unique type of interaction with The Radio Demon, but not a bad one. There's nothing that makes you feel more special than the way he looks at you.

Stop doing that. You plea in your head, and you drive me insane. How else am I supposed to feel?

He crosses his feet when he hears the jazz finding its way into your music. He leans into the couch, smile growing, not letting you know why he's smiling.

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 9

Oh wow, a new chapter? Who'd have thunk it.

My posting schedule is all off and I honestly don't know if I can get it back under control. I have no idea when I'll get time to sit down and write and when inspiration will strike, so I can't assure weekly updates. But I'll try my hardest to get this story out! I have future chapters written, it's just that I have no way of connecting them right now :/ Oops.

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Ah shit, here we go again. Angst, arguments, jealousy

Word Count: 2,250

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5][Part 6][Part 7][Part 8]

Some moments are easier than others. Sometimes you feel like you’re not pining like a love-sick teenager enough to think that you can actually do this – you can actually be friends with the man you love.

But then there are moments like tonight.

A few weeks have passed since community get-together, and you and Bucky are the new kids in town. Everyone drops by to say hello, leave you with enough food to last the winter, and invite you both back to their homes for dinner. It’s all very sweet, and you would appreciate the hospitality in any other situation.

But the amount of mothers trying to marry their daughters off to Bucky is insane. 

Several have not-so-subtley seated Bucky next to daughters of marriageable age, while everyone else is silently discouraged from interrupting their conversations. It skeezes you out when the girls are barely out of their teens, but most of the girls are around your age or older. Morality-wise, that’s a whole lot more appropriate. Internal monologue-wise, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh doesn’t even begin to cover it. What you feel whenever he laughs at something they say, or looks at them with his intense blue eyes – it hurts. That’s how he used to look at you, once upon a time. Like his life wouldn’t be the same without you in it, like you’re one of the most important people in his world.

To be fair to Bucky, you probably read waaaay more into it than he ever meant. And you only ever really saw that look come out when you were straddling his waist and grinding hard on his cock, skin mottled with his teeth marks and wearing his metal hand as a necklace. 

Stop, stop, stop, stop!

Anyway,

You’re usually placed next to older, widowed relatives, as most of the young men in the town have already settled down and popped out a few kids with their spouses except for Petre. Tessa foists the two of you together at every possible opportunity, hoping you’ll hit it off and decide to get married in the near future. 

Petre is nice, smart, cute, but not really your type. You’re convinced that you’ve only ever had one type and he’s off-limits. But Petre’s company is much more enjoyable than the sad, lonely older men they try to pair you with – it never feels great to be compared to someone’s long lost love – so you don’t mind having someone around your age to talk during these things.

Speaking of.

“It’s a nice night, yeah?” Petre comments. The night is warmer than expected, but you and Petre are still bundled up in your coats as you stroll through the dead copse of trees near the latest dinner party. The sun had set only minutes ago and the stars are making their presence known. There’s next to no light pollution in this area, so you always take the time to admire the night sky when you have the chance. 

You often take walks with Bucky up and down your street as a way to decompress after your shifts at the HYDRA facility. After the first week or so of being everyone’s errand-runner, they’ve slowly built up your workload to include calculations and deductions based on redacted data – it’s not as much information as you’d like, but it’s enough to build a foundational understanding of what the experiment was about.

You hum in agreement and continue walking. It’s about time to turn around and head back, but you can’t bring yourself to return only to watch Bucky flirt with the pretty girls that were also invited.  

“Is something the matter?” Petre asks you.

You startle out of your petty, jealous thoughts. “Hm? Oh, no. Nothing’s wrong,” you reply with a smile.

“It’s just that you seem very distracted tonight,” he responds.

With your hands in your pocket, the only thing you can do is shrug your shoulders. “Just tired, is all. It’s been a long week at the office.”

“Ah, I know the feeling,” Petre commiserates. 

All of the sudden, a wailing, piercing shriek ricochets between the tree trunks and reverberates in your ears. Tensing with adrenaline, you take two steps forward, ready to intervene in whatever events are unfolding in the darkness.

Before you get much further, Petre reaches out and takes hold of your elbow. Turning you around, he starts leading the way back. You try to tug your arm from his grip, but he holds firm.

“The cry of a vixen who is looking to mate. They’re rather vicious creatures this time of year, foxes. We don’t want to get in her way,” Petre deters.

“But…” you begin, looking back over your shoulders and watching for unexpected movement among the swaying branches. “It sounds so real.”

“Terrifying, really. I was just as concerned when they began, as well.” Petre gives you a tight smile and relaxes his grip slightly when you stop trying to pull away.

“What do you mean?” you question.

“What?” Petre’s eyes flash around quickly, looking through the woods that surround you.

“‘When they began’. What do you mean by that?”

“Ah,” Petre replies. “When mating season began.”

There’s no more discussion on the eerily accurate sound of a woman in distress. You can only trust that Petre would know the local fauna and their habits better than you, since you’ve never spent an extended period of time in areas such as this.

***

The neighbor’s house finally comes into view. A lone figure stands silhouetted against the porch as they lean against the railings, their arms braced against the banister and posture rigid. When you get closer, you realize that the figure is Bucky. 

You can’t see his face, but you can feel his eyes on you. And apparently Petre can as well.

“He doesn’t like me?” Petre asks.

“Why do you say that?” The question puzzles you because Bucky has no reason to dislike Petre. He’s been incredibly helpful so far, allowing you to ask as many questions as you want about himself and others and he doesn’t seem bothered by it at all. In fact, you feel as if you and Petre have become friends.

“It just seems like he’s never happy to see me.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that – James just has RBF,” you reply nonchalantly.

“RBF?” Petre replies.

You laugh as you and Petre climb the stairs, only now realizing that he still has a hand on your arm. You’d forgotten all about it, but you miss the slight warmth that permeated through your jacket when he removes his touch. You turn to look at him, but Petre is looking away, his hands now deep in his pockets. Turning your focus onto Bucky, you see him watching Petre, his eyes squinted.

A large smile returns to your face as you reach up and grab Bucky’s chin, squishing his cheeks and making his lips pucker from the pressure. “This –” you say triumphantly, “is an RBF.”

Bucky glares down at you and swats your hand away. You cackle at the perfect example of Resting Bitch Face™ in front of you, throwing your head back in joy. When you right your posture again, you can see a small smile on Bucky’s face as he laughs along with you.

“Whatever,” he murmurs. He shakes his head in exasperation before circling his arm around your shoulders. Bucky begins dragging you back down the steps you had just ascended and you grunt in protest. “It’s time to go,” he says simply.

“Ugh, you’re so rude,” you say to him. Craning your neck as much as possible, you look back towards Petre who remains on the porch. “I’ll see you later!” you call backwards with a wave. Petre raises a hand in return, face hidden in shadow as Bucky’s had been.

Focusing back on the road in front of you, you can practically feel what little mirth Bucky had drains away. Looking up, you notice that his jaw is clenched and a hard look has entered his eye.

“What’s wrong?” Now you’re worried that something happened to Bucky while you were gone that has put him in a bad mood. Did someone say something to him? Did one of the women reject his advances? You can’t see who in their right mind would turn him down, but not everyone feels the same way about him as you do. But if it’s the latter, the guilt you feel only slightly outweighs the relief.

“You don’t think you’re spendin’ too much time with him?” Bucky says between clenched teeth.

A frown appears between your eyebrows as you continue to look up at him. “No?” you respond. “He doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Ofcoursehedoesn’t,” Bucky mutters under his breath, but you can still hear him.

You slide out from under Bucky’s hold, his agitation sparking flames of your own. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You don’t think you’re leadin’ him on a bit, Y/N?” Bucky asks you.

You scoff. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“You’re always hangin’ around him!” Bucky quips back. “You’re flirting with him and walking out of parties together. All these people, Petre included, are going to think you’re pitching for an engagement.”

The hurt and pitiful feelings from earlier tonight come flooding back. Only this time, instead of feeling them for what they are, you combine them with the anger his comment brings. How dare he accuse you of leading Petre on? As if he isn’t doing the same thing to all those girls?!

“And what about you?!” you yell, the last word ripping its way between your lips and setting your tongue ablaze. “You don’t think you’re stringing all these girls along behind you? You don’t have any intention of getting into a relationship with any of them, either, do you?” 

As the words escape, you remember how Bucky sat you down and asked for a friends-with-benefits situation. Said he wasn’t ready for a real relationship, but tired of one night stands. How the two of you could help each other out since you weren’t seeing anyone either. The old resentment towards yourself and how you let yourself fall for someone wholly unavailable whiplashes back into your mind after months of repressing it. 

If he could ask that of you, does that mean he’s asked someone else? You usually arrive home later than him, but on some occasions that you are released early, he’s not there. Instead of asking where he’s been, you had just let it slide since it could have been construed as possessiveness. Like your feelings – that Bucky believes to be long gone – entitle you to his life. You hadn’t wanted to risk anything at the time, but now your mind can’t help running wild at the possibilities.

“It’s not like I’m screwing his brains out every time we’re gone!” You shout at Bucky. You had been walking down the road away from the house party which was on a street with few homes, so there’s nobody around to hear your fight. “We’re not in the bathrooms having quickies, he’s not fucking me against a wall, or bending me over his motorcycle! He hasn’t proposed we fuck around with each other until someone better comes along!” 

Your chest heaves with the effort of expelling these vicious words from deep within your heart, and you can feel a burning beginning to creep behind your eyes. You hate getting angry – hate that any strong emotion makes your eyes well with tears and makes you look weak. And in this situation, you are weak – weak against Bucky, weak against yourself, weak against the knowledge that the one man you’ve ever loved never felt the same way and never will. Your inability to keep yourself from falling for someone you knew you could never have? Your jealousy that he is probably sleeping with one or more of the women in town? That makes you weak. 

And you can’t stand to be weak in front of Bucky again.

“Newsflash, Buck: I know how it feels to be lead on by you and it fucking sucks!” You lower your voice slightly and take another step away from him. “I know that wasn’t your intention, and I didn’t feel that way at first, but that’s how I feel now.”

“You were my best friend, Y/N – I didn’t want to lose that!” Bucky exclaims. “And I genuinely thought we were on the same page!” He takes a deep breath and clasps his hands over his eyes before saying, “And seeing you run off with Petre all the time just reminds me of us – how we’d always sneak away to get some time alone. It’s just –” He drops his hands and sighs heavily, looking up at the star-studded sky and then back down to you. “I’m jealous.”

“You’re jealous?” You ask incredulously. “Why?”

“Because –” You can tell that he’s struggling to get this out, and if he hadn’t started this argument and accused you of wronging Petre, you might have been more receptive to what he’s saying. More understanding. But right now, your anger swallows all empathy and hope that his words would usually supply. “Because that could have been us,” he breathes. Bucky takes a tentative step in your direction, but freezes solid at the icy glare you send his way.

“No,” you say flatly, “No, it couldn’t have. You made that abundantly clear when I asked.”

You turn your back on him and start running, ignoring the sound of your name as you leave Bucky behind.

Part 10

Taglist: @jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewifeife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshinee @happinessinthebeingg @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

[michelasnook]

NOBODY'S SOLDIER

Sergeant Francesca Herrald doesn't like being in the military. She is one of the best snipers and the most meticulous medic. But at nineteen she desires to just live her teenage years. Inside the Fourth Squadron she just has to work. And she hates it.

Lieutenant Johnathan Price sees in the sister of his Captain a sad teen that wishes to escape that reality of blood and death. Even if she works with extraordinary focus and energy. He tries to make her life a bit more cheerful, but just when he thinks he is doing some progress, she turns and leaves. However, he just can let her go.

Now, something is wrong with her, more than usual. And he will do his best to understand her.

Words (for the chapter): 2503;

Warnings and tags (for the whole story): Lieutenant John Price, angst, depictions of violence, age gap, eventual smut, fluff, brother-sister relationship, panick attacks, minor character death, eventually more warnings.

A/N: So I started writing this story and I am now ready to start publish it all around. I fell in love with Francesca since the first chapters, and I hope I can manage to bring this story to conclusion (I've never finished a story in my life, but I feel confident). English is not my first language, but I hope there aren't any errors.

I. The Emptiness Machine

LONDON , 23rd of October, 2009. 

   I can imagine them all screaming my name, in unison, and then headbanging at the rhythm of my music. Even if my eyes are closed, I can see them all, while I move my head and strung the chords of my imaginary guitar. The riff is hard, but I know I'm nailing every note, making them all scream in awe. 

   I reach the most difficult part, my left hand going up and down the air and pressing on the right chords, with the right pressure, and when I almost nail it completely- one of my earbuds falls.

   No, it doesn't fall: Elia has yanked it out. He is looking at me, slightly disappointed.

   The pub all around me takes form again as the other people at the table chat. I sigh and pause the music on my iPod.

   "Care to grace us with your presence, Franny?" Elia asks me with a smile. I respond with a playful face, sticking my tongue out. He chuckles, turning back to his beer as the others laugh and talk.

   I swirl my shirley temple and then take a sip from the straw. I hate when my brother forces me to go out with our squad. He wants for me to socialize outside our job, but it's hard if you can't even drink alchool and all you want to do is just read and listen to music. It's even harder to try and make friend at base if everyone sees you Captain Herrald's little sister, or as the child of Major Herrald and Colonel Pearson-Herrald. Yet here I am, Sergeant Medic of the 4th British Squadron.

   I pluck the cherry from my drink and pop it into my mouth, just as Lieutenant Price sits down beside me with a dark beer in hand. I glance at it, wishing I could take a sip.

   "It's a Guinnes, right?" I ask, clear longing and sadness in my voice. John turns with shy smile and nods to me, then turns towards my brother and checks him. Slowly, without drawing attention, he slides the pint over to me. Grinning, I take a quick, satisfying sip before handing it back.

   "Thanks" I mutter, still savouring the dark tones of that good and cool Guinnes on my tongue.

   "Didn't peg you for a beer person" he says taking a drink from the same spot I pressed my lips on.

   "I enjoy a fresh Guinnes," I admit, "It's harsh to just drink it every now and then only when you pass me illegal sips." I pocket my iPod and earbuds in the big and old hoodie.

   He chuckles deep and smiles, shifting on his stool. "So, are you in on this mission?"

   Lieutenant Jonathan Price is the only one in the squad that actually tries to empatise and understand me. All the men and women at the table have enrolled because they wanted to, because they needed to give all their life to our country. But me? I don't want to risk my life only to save people I don't even know.

   I enrolled in the military academy at sixteen, but already at twelve I was trained by my father and deep in medical books under the scrutinous eyes of my mother. They wanted for me to be a military medic, a trauma field surgeon. And they got that, even if every night, at least until at seventeen I accepted my fate, I cried until I fell asleep. Under the command of my brother they now have total control of my being. Them and the United Kingdom, even if I just want to disappear in my old room in Bournemouth reading stories of dragons and fairies.

   John doesn't know the full story, but he listens when I talk. He's my sounding board when I need to vent, and I ignore his growing nicotine addiction as a form of silent gratitude. Sometimes, we share a cigarette when my brother isn't around.

   "I have no way out, so Afghanistan here I come!" I say mocking a tost and then take another slow sip. "Again, I suppose".

   John doesn't laugh, but just tries to smile to encourage me. "You can still leave, you can't stay out of coercion" he whispers, trying to not be heard by my brother that is just in front of him on the other side of the table. Elia is laughing at some joke Private MacGavin has said.

   "Except I can't if I want to stay in touch with all my family and not be disinherited" I suck even the last drop of my drink and then push it with the other glasses that have gathered from the others. "You know, I still would like some kind of family. So... I am stuck".

   I have two families: my actual blood and all family, and my gunpowder and injuries family. If I walk away, I would lose them both.

   "You wouldn't lose me, Sonne" he says, cues another one of his cute smiles. But I cringe at him for using my code name. 

   "Oh, don't worry. My brother would make sure of that" Elia thinks exactly as my father, even if he is more pleasant to be around and he cares about me more. 

   Elia and John are best friends, my brother has took the young Lieutenant under his wing, almost making him de facto his second in command. There isn't one single thing John wouldn't do under Elia's command. 

   "I have a mind of my own. Elia can make sure of whatever, but I think I'll never stop sneaking you sips of Guinnes" he chuckles at the end of the phrase and then pats me on my head, a few strands of ash blond hair falling on my forehead. I look at him, admiring him a few seconds. 

   If just he looked at me the same lovingly way I am looking at him now.

   "Thanks, Price" I say with a half sigh, then I turn to the little stage where three young teens are performing a Radiohead's song. I don't dare look at the Lieutenant for the rest of the night, not if I can avoid it.

-----------------------------------------------------

HELMAND PROVINCE, AFHGANISTAN, 25th of october, 2009.

   The base is rumbling with action: trucks rolling in and out, squadrons full of privateers marching around, weapons firing off in the distance. And the dust, there is too much dust, that is around our boots, that deposit on our faces and threatens to get in our eyes. It's not a place I like, it's not where I can find myself, opposite of my brother. 

   I look at him while he talks off in the distance with a Corporal that has orders to pass to him. His hands are on his hips, nodding and moving his hands if he needs to explain something. In his uniform and combact gear he looks the part; hell, he is the part. Elia thrives in this life. Meanwhile, I am here, just surviving it. 

   Captain Herrald returns with a piece of paper that the Corporal has given him, and looks at us with a sigh. He looks displeased.

   "The Chinook's been delayed. We're stuck here until tomorrow afternoon. They need us to work in the meantime. Franny, report to Role 3. John, head to JOC..." His voice is commanding, as always, but I barely hear the rest. I gather my gear and head to the Combat Support Hospital without waiting for further instructions.

   Role 3 is where I find a sense of purpose, if not belonging. After stowing my things in a small office, I report to Major Sheffield, the hospital's commanding officer. She's tall, redheaded, and carries herself with quiet authority. 

   "Seargent Herrald, I heard many great things about your operations. Care to walk with me?" Major Sheffield asks me, and I nod when she starts walking like she owns the place. Because she does, she owns the place. This is her hospital. 

   "So young and already putting your hands inside men's stomach to make them return home to their families, you must be proud" she says while we walk up the stairs and enter the surgical floor, where the many wounded soliders are awaiting their surgeries or to be discharged, ready to go home or back to action. 

   I mentally sigh when she saysthose words, because I don't know how to answer. But I smile, put myself practically on attention with my hands together behind my back and give her a cordial smile. "Yes, I am" I simply say, lowering my military medical surgeon mask. 

   "We have one surgery where we could really use another set of capable hands. Can I count you in?" she asks, while another doctor gives her a chart. 

   "If we finish before dinner, sure" I say with a smile, she returns it and leaves the chart for me to study. 

   Here I am, back to work. And the only thing I hope is that this base has good hiding spots. Even in this place, which should feel like my sanctuary, I still feel trapped.

------------------------------------------------------

   The desert wind feels fresh on my skin, like the vanilla ice cream I'm eating while sitting on the rooftop of our barrack. I can look at the stars clearly, like they've been painted just for me. One thing that I can surely be happy about this job is that it makes me travel around the world. Sure, it doesn't let me be a proper tourist, but at least I get to watch the sky from different parts of this planet. And this ice cream is actually really good. 

   I moan quietly with closed eyes when I savour in my mouth the last spoon of this wednesday's base dessert, then sigh at the sight of the empty cup. Even the small pleasure of life are short-lived here, and I am now left with the spectacle that is the base ahead of me. 

   It's dinner time, even if in half an hour everyone has to go to sleep, the base is still alive with activity. Everyone is busy with something, and me... I am just hiding. 

   Rooftops are my speciality, just like operation rooms. It's the duality of being a sniper and a doctor. I have two hiding places, but with time even these places feel so wrong to me. I don't belong. 

   I lean back on my elbows, listening to the rhythm of the soldiers marching below. I close my eyes and I take a big breath. Trying to convince myself that I belong here, that I am doing something actually right for me and for the people. But which people?

   Behind me, I can sense someone is climbing up the pipe to reach the roof, and then I hear the unmistakable sound of my brother's footsteps. Elia sits besides me with an non-alcoholic beer in hand. I didn't realise they would give beers out at base. 

   "Ugh, are you here to remind me that I'm still to young to drink?" I ask with a sigh. In response he hands me the green bottle. I smile and take a swig, but immediatly girmace at the taste and give it back in disgust. "Why do you drink this blonde shit?" I ask, wiping the drops around my mouth. 

   "I am blonde, we are blonde. Of course I am going to like a blonde beer" he says with a chuckle in his voice, looking out the base, but his expression is different from mine. 

   I can see it in his face, in his eyes. He is surveying his domain, his land, like a King. His dream is taking our father's position, rise to his rank. So yeah, he wants to be the King of this land. 

   "Everything good at the hospital?" he asks, still not looking at me, his diamond-like eyes reflecting the moonlight as his golden beard gleams.

   "I did four GSWs, a fasciotomy, and cleaned so many burns and immobilized so many fractures that I lost count" I say, groaning as my shoulders scream for rest. I give in, lying down with a tired sigh. "I was in the OR for nine hours, then spent the rest of the time in the trauma wing." My muscles ease as my back hits the ground.

   I open my eyes and see Elia's usual proud smile when it comes to my work. When it comes to be happy about what I accomplish, Elia does it for me. He covers joy and proudness for all my family, decanting my successes in the field, from the lives I save to the enemies I take down. 

   "You've been awfully quiet, Fran" he says, setting his beer aside and turning towards me for the first time this evening. 

   "I always am" I say, avoiding his gaze. 

   I look at his forehead, his cheeks, even his lips- anywhere but his eyes. If I look at him in his eyes he'll see that I am scared to be here, that I don't want to be here. Just like how when we were kids and he could always tell how much I hated our father's training. And he would take the beatings for me. 

   Elia doesn't know still don't want to be here. He thinks I found some deep sense of patriotism at sixteen when I enrolled. He doesn't know what convinced me to stay.

   I can't let him see how scared and angry I am. It would be misinterpreted as a lack of confidence in my ability, and even though I hate it, I'm damn good at my job. This whole setup is insane, but I can handle it.

   "If you are bothered in some way, you can talk to me. I'm here as your brother, not as your Captain" he says, trying to meet my eyes. My eyes fall on his collar, where his insignias are, then his chest, decorated with medals. 

   Here, he's just my Captain. He doesn't get it. He never will. This is his land, not mine. 

   "I am fine, Elia. Just need to get through this mission" I say with a deep breath, moving my eyes back up, to the sky, to the indifferent dying stars. 

   He nods, staying by my side for a few more minutes. Then he finishes his beer, pats me on my shoulder and climbs back down. I sit back up, look down and can see my brother meeting with his Lieutenant. 

   John looks relaxed, though a bit tired from the work day. However, he looks like he could do it all over again. He's twenty-three and already a lieutenant; at this pace, he'll have Elia's job in a few deployments.

   I see Elia telling him something, and then John looks up in my direction. I stay where I am and wave. He returns the gesture, touching the visor of his cap and flashing me a small, kind smile. 

   Oh, I really liked that smile. Damn as hell I need to get to Lucy after all this shit. 

[dharmafox]

Just had a Karakasa thought that made my hair stand on end irl. It could turn out to be hella spoilery, and it involves spoilers from the manga and from a Nakamura interview that was only released to backers, so I'm going to spoiler tag it and put it under a cut.

So we've been talking about Kitagawa being a ghost and about her being connected to the Karakasa's origins. Up to now I've been assuming that the Karakasa is an amalgamation of everyone and everything that's ended up at the bottom of the well, but maybe that's not strictly true. I don't doubt those things are involved in its creation, but the Karakasa itself could be just one thing, and/or one person: Kitagawa.

There's a definite precedent in the series for a single person or even thing to be the mononoke, and in fact that's usually the case. They're also usually dead: Tamaki, the Zashiki Warashi, Ochou (probably), the dead wood in "Nue," Setsuko. In fact, Genkei in "Umi Bozu" is the only (apparent) exception.

The facts as we know them so far are these:

(1) There's a high probability that Kitagawa is a ghost. Here's @purplealmonds's post going over a ton of clues that this is the case.

(2) Kitagawa is connected to the creepy doll. Based on:

a. The fact that she gets swapped out with the doll in the scene @purplealmonds pointed out:

b. The fact that she pops up pretty much instantly in the manga when Asa discovers the doll in a cupboard. She might even say here that the doll belongs to her, but I can't read Japanese, so... (This is actually the first thing that made me think she's a ghost—there's just something very ghostly about the way she pops up on cue like that and about her whole vibe in that scene. Unfortunately I can't find the relevant pages anymore—I think the chapter must be behind a paywall again.)

(3) The doll is connected very closely to the Karakasa. In fact, the umbrella that's almost certainly at the root of the Karakasa belongs to the doll. Nakamura revealed this in the backers-only interview and all but explicitly stated that the umbrella is behind the Karakasa (I mean, of course it is—it's a spooky umbrella).

(4) Kitagawa is especially closely linked with umbrellas. She appears with one in this scene that echoes the beginning of "Zashiki Warashi" and she appears ominously indoors with one (again, as @purplealmonds noted):

Without knowing more, I can only speculate about the exact connections among Kitagawa, the doll, and the umbrella, but they're clearly all intertwined. Objects as manifestations of people's souls seems to be a big theme in this story, so the doll could be a manifestation of Kitagawa's soul, or the umbrella could be, or both. Perhaps they were all separated by the Ooku and have been clinging onto the physical world trying to reconnect—with their grudges being fed by the additional objects and souls being discarded into the well.

At the very least, Kitagawa's doll's umbrella must be the origin of the Karakasa. But the real mononoke may not be the possessed umbrella. In "Umi Bozu," the real mononoke is Genkei. In "Nopperabou," it's Ochou. In the end, the real mononoke isn't a youkai or monster—it's the human who's been in plain sight the whole time.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Commander's Omega"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: alpha/omega, dystopia, sex slavery, forced breeding, mutilation, rape, corporal punishment, fascism, hurt/comfort, power imbalance, mpreg, age gap (38/23), mentions of abortion

Summary: After years of a mass infertility crisis, the United States is overtaken by religious fanatics, and Bucky Barnes finds himself thrust into a brutal world of survival. When he's discovered to be fertile, he's forced to serve as a vessel: a caste of omegas who bear children for the political elite.

Chapter III. Freedom to

Story Masterlist

Before:

First, the president and the ranking fifteen closest in command are assassinated. There’s an explosion that nobody can trace, and just like that, the whole cabinet goes.

Bucky’s halfway through his Wednesday physics lecture when the professor stops what she’s doing and grabs the remote. The tv gets turned on and the one hundred and twelve freshmen in the lecture hall watch it play out on the news with a sense of surrealism.

NYU winds up suspending all classes, and Bucky takes the train home to spend time with his parents. George and Winnie put him up in his old room, which they haven’t yet bothered to empty out. There’s still a poster of Nine Inch Nails on the back of the door from Bucky’s alternative phase. Becca, Trudy and Clair come home within the following week, and the house is just as cramped as it ever was.

That’s how he finds himself at home when the news breaks that Congress has been eliminated. Eliminated, that’s the word they use. Not an assassination. Now it’s a terrorist attack, and the martial law that’s been in place since two weeks ago has everyone in their homes by sundown. But there are already guardians patrolling the neighborhood streets as if they’re the ones in charge.

Bucky gets a text from his bank, notifying him that his accounts have been frozen and will be transferred to his Alpha spouse or next of kin. He's still what-the-fucking that with his sisters when his mom steps out of the room to go call his dad and urge him to come home early from work. All their phones start shrieking with emergency alerts, telling them to shelter in place, that people on the street could be shot.

In the next few hours, Bucky's father comes home, looking wan and disturbed. Bucky can't get him to give a straight answer on what he saw out there to make him so upset, but the occasional pops of gunfire and revving vehicles outside are a hint. Bucky keeps getting text messages from his bank, from the University. When he tries to log into his accounts, he's blocked, and repeat text messages are triggered to his phone.

Becca, Trudy, and Clair are beta: they don't get any text messages.

His mom and dad come back into the living room and join Bucky and his sisters in sitting on the couch and watching the tv. Within hours, the news programs stop broadcasting. The tv shows only static. Within days, the missing news programs are replaced with just one: a state news channel.

The new broadcasts are bare-boned, but they are very informative. The anchor who used to do the six o’clock news comes on for her slot. She sits poised behind the news desk, making no comment for a long minute. There’s sweat visibly beading on her brow, but it’s obvious that she’s trying hard to maintain her composure while sitting in front of the large banner they’ve set as a backdrop. It's a symbol Bucky recognizes from a Christian nationalist group that's been in the news these past few years. "That's ... that's the Sons of Jacob flag," he says.

"Sons of what?"

"Holy rollers," he breathes, dread welling in his stomach. "They have a chapter on campus."

“Good evening,” the news anchor says, when someone or something offscreen prompts her. Her hands clasp tightly atop the desk and she begins cheerfully reading off the news: "As of six p.m. eastern time today, security in the capital has been declared restored," she announces. "The worst of the fighting is suppressed, and recovery efforts are being prepared for deployment in all major cities north of the Knoxville-Raleigh line. In Washington D.C., the government is reported to be secured and solidly in place."

"Oh, thank goodness," Winnie says, but Bucky is frowning at the tv and shaking his head.

"I don't think they mean the US government, mom."

"What?"

"Insurgent forces have suffered devastating defeats, and have been pushed back beyond the North Carolina-Tennessee border. Reports of smaller insurgent camps located in the Pennsylvania mountains are unsubstantiated at this point, but government officials are warning civilians in the Allegany Mountain range to avoid travel. An extended shelter in place order is expected to remain in place for the region."

Bucky looks worriedly to his mother, because he’s not stupid. The newscaster lady looks almost exactly the same as she always had before, only now there's an odd enthusiasm radiating from her; a sort of glassy-eyed, desperate-to-be-believed look that doesn't sit well with Bucky. It doesn’t take him long to learn what that look is, or what it means.

It’s fear. And it means that he should be afraid too.

After:

“Ofsteven, good afternoon.”

Bucky looks up from his seat at the window. Today is the third day in a row that he’s sat there, time spent mostly staring out at the back yard. There’s a black guy who wears beta blue and tends to the flowers and bushes out there. Sam. Bucky's been wondering if he might go down and poke around the little greenhouse that's attached to the kitchen, or if he'd be chastised for getting in the way.

But now Commander Rogers is standing awkwardly in the doorway to his little room, and Bucky snaps to attention. It's odd, hearing himself referred to by this new name. Up until not too long ago, he was called Ofwarren. Then at the red center, it'd been back to James, and now it's back to the goddamn patronymic. “Commander,” he says respectfully. "Blessed day."

The Commander gives him a tight sort of smile. “Blessed day." He steps a little farther into the room. "You can call me Steve,” he offers. "If you want."

"What?" Bucky shifts uncomfortably, realizes that he's not joking. “But ... That’s not allowed."

“I run my household a little differently, you’ll find,” Steve says. “Commander is ..." he makes a face. "It's very formal. I’d prefer it if you called me Steve. Especially since we’ll, erm ... you know. Be getting to know one another better.”

In another life, Bucky would’ve blushed, but he’s been indoctrinated in some ways whether he’d like to admit it or not. He’s used to his role as an object by now. “Okay,” he agrees quietly. "Fine."

He doesn’t want to seem too eager to be breaking the rules, since this could just be Commander Rogers’ way of tricking him, of sussing him out. There are true Believers who get their kicks that way, and vessels like Bucky are already known for rule breaking, criminally sentenced to their roles as broodmares for the state. Steve might just be trying to lure him into a false sense of comfortability by feigning friendliness. Commander Putnam had been that way. The bottoms of Bucky’s feet have scars from his misplaced trust in years past, and he isn’t keen on earning more.

“You can call me Bucky if you want,” he reluctantly offers.

Steve nods, brightening a bit. “Okay. Bucky it is." His mouth quirks and he tilts his head. "I take it that's a nickname of some sort?"

"Yeah. My one sister started it, back when she couldn't pronounce my middle name." He shrugs. "It's what my family called me."

Steve smiles, encouraged. "Are any of them still around?”

“No.”

He's surprised yet again, when Steve makes it clear he's going to join him for lunch.

Bucky'd thought commanders like Steve were too busy to take meals outside their offices. Even now, nearly four years after the institution of biblical law, there's still a lot of work to do: insurgencies to hunt, population crises to handle, people to surveil, torture, maim. Kill. The restructuring of the country is still in its infancy, and just because the iron fist of fascism has closed firmly around their necks doesn't mean there's ever a shortage of work to be done.

Bucky doesn't yet know what Commander Rogers' specific role is, in this brave new nation of theirs, but so far, every Commander that he's encountered has held an instrumental position. He tries to remember that, when his first instinct is to trust Steve's surface-level kindness. Steve isn't like him. He caused this. He wanted this.

Steve leads them downstairs, down to the conservatory that connects the kitchen to the greenhouse. It's set up as an informal dining room, and Bucky’s taken aback when, after placing a simple lunch of soup and sandwiches onto the table for the Commander and Bucky, the Martha named Sharon puts out four other place settings. Shortly thereafter, Sharon and the redheaded servant—Natasha, Bucky learns, and the gardener and the driver (Sam and Clint) join the table as well.

They eat in relative silence, and Bucky spends the meal sneaking surreptitious glances around at everybody. They’re all eating together as if they're equals, when Bucky knows they very much are not. Gender roles have been staunchly enforced in the past four years, and it's become a rare sight indeed, to have alphas, betas, and omegas interacting together all at once.

Steve is sitting at the head of the table, and it comes as a shock when he says, “So how has everyone’s morning been?”

Bucky keeps his eyes on his sandwich, sure that he’s not expected to answer. Natasha is the first one who speaks, saying, “Pretty good. Got the vacuuming done."

"Upstairs, or downstairs?" Steve asks pointedly.

"Downstairs. Upstairs isn't ready yet."

"Dammit," Steve grunts.

"All the laundry's done.” Natasha glances reproachfully at Sam. “Unless somebody makes an awful mess of his clothes going forward. Blood isn't exactly easy to get out, you know.”

Sam chuckles. “I have a dirty job, sue me.” He looks pointedly at Steve. "I got the hedges done."

"Did that go smoothly?" Steve asks without looking up from his soup. Bucky frowns, wondering how trimming the hedges could go wrong.

"There were a few dead spots, but they came off without a hitch."

"Disposed of?" Steve asks.

"Yep. Threw 'em in the burn pit."

Steve nods in somber approval. "Good riddance."

Jeez, Bucky thinks, these people take lawn maintenance very seriously. He realizes after a beat that his mouth is gaping a little, and he snaps it shut. This is the first time in nearly four years that he’s observed alphas, betas and omegas speaking so freely with one another, acting like equals. It’s almost like before. The thought puts an ache in his chest, which he quickly squashes.

“How about you Bucky?”

His eyes shoot up to find Steve and everyone else at the table regarding him. He quickly swallows the bite of sandwich in his mouth to answer, “Um, I’ve been okay. Just ... been in my room.” The answer is so dull that it almost makes him feel embarrassed. Even now, when the highlights of other people’s days are as tedious as laundry and gardening, Bucky himself has nothing to offer in the way of conversation. He doesn’t dare complain, though. There are worse things than being bored.

“You must be getting bored up there in your room,” Steve observes.

“Um …”

“I have a modest library in my office. If you like, you can poke around and find something that interests you.”

Bucky's stomach sinks, and his fingers feel cold where they grip his sandwich. “Excuse me?” he asks. Surely, this is a trap. This is the Rogers’ household trying to see whether he’s a True Believer or not. They're testing him. Bucky feels sick at the prospect of getting in trouble, so he mumbles, “I don’t think so,” and looks back down at his plate. “That’s not allowed.”

There’s a long beat of awkward silence, and then Steve says, “Guys, can you give us a minute?”

Four chairs scrape against the stone floor of the conservatory and Natasha and the others file out through the kitchen, disappearing back into the house. Bucky feels dread well in his gut. Has he said the wrong thing?

“Bucky,” Steve says carefully. “Do you really think that it’s wrong for an omega to read?”

Bucky can feel Steve’s eyes boring into his head, so he looks up. Steve doesn’t look upset, he looks interested. Bucky licks his lips nervously. “Well. I dunno. I ... was an engineering major, in college,” he says. “I minored in English Lit.”

Steve nods sympathetically. “I take it you were quite an avid reader, then.”

“I guess.”

Steve continues to eat his lunch as if Bucky hasn’t said anything wrong, and it gives Bucky hope. Surely this can’t be, he thinks. Surely there aren’t people like this, aren’t households like this, anymore. “Did you really mean it?” he asks, heart lifting with new hope, about ready to bust free of the scar tissue that’s kept it tethered down for so long. "You'd let me read?"

“Yes,” Steve says. “You can come to my office tonight, after evening meal. You can pick out some books.”

Bucky’s heart soars. “Can I take some back to my room?”

“Absolutely not,” Steve snaps, sounding like a true Commander for the first time yet. He levels Bucky with a stern look. “My office is the only room in the house without windows. Do you understand? You may only read them in there.”

Bucky swallows heavily and ducks his head, cowed. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Okay.”

Before:

Bucky’s naked toes scrape the ledge of the exam table. He’s only wearing the paper gown they gave him, and frankly the room’s too cold for that. The door to the exam room opens again, and Bucky’s eyes shoot up. He sits up straighter. “Doctor?”

The man doesn’t look at him. He walks over to the cabinets in the room and drops the folder he’s holding onto the countertop with a flourish and a sigh. Bucky screws up his face at having been ignored. “Um … what did the—”

“You’re pregnant,” the doctor says flatly, still not turning around. “Congratulations.”

Bucky’s heart sinks. Sure, he’d suspected. Hell, he’d pretty much known. Two positive at-home tests and a smiling pharmacist when he’d been desperate enough to buy a third had told him so. It’s why he’d come to the clinic. But still, shit. “Okay,” he says, swallowing heavily. “Okay. So, do I need to make another appointment to come back? Or can we just …”

The doctor’s shoulders tense up through the material of his lab coat. “Excuse me?” he says. He turns around and the expression on his face makes Bucky want to shrink away. “‘Can we just’? ‘Can we just’ what?”

“... I told you,” Bucky says, wary of the man's anger. “The pregnancy. I want to terminate.”

If he had any doubts about what was going through the physician’s mind, they’re quickly quashed by the way the man’s face now dissolves into disgust. “Well isn't that a pretty way of putting it,” he spits. “You want an abortion?”

“Uh, yeah.” Bucky juts his chin out in defiance. “You got a problem with that?”

The doctor scoffs. “Yes, I do. You know, hardly anyone can have a baby anymore. You manage to get pregnant, and you want to kill it?”

“It’s my choice.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Bucky stands up, heedless of the fact that he’s dressed in only the flimsy paper gown. “I don’t think you’re being very professional,” he says. Really, it’s not that this doctor’s opinion is that different from a lot of people’s these days, but Bucky still feels infuriated at the fact that he’s having to have this argument with a doctor, of all people. “Now, do I have to make an appointment to come back?” he grits. "Or can we take care of this today?"

The man’s features harden. “You’ll have to go somewhere else if you want to murder your own child. We don’t do that here.”

Bucky grinds his teeth. “This is a city-funded clinic.” He’d specifically come here instead of the private doctor that his parents’ insurance could easily cover. “You have to provide reproductive health care. It’s the law.”

“The law’s going to change real soon.” The doctor turns his back to Bucky and heads for the door. 

Bucky watches in disbelief as he's utterly dismissed. “Excuse me?”

“Get the hell out of my clinic,” the man says as he flings the door open and steps out into the hallway. He spares Bucky one last contemptuous glance. “There’s a special place in Hell for people like you.”

Bucky gapes as the man goes, and the door slowly shuts behind him. Suddenly, the room feels even colder than it had before, and Bucky’s desperate to get his clothes back on. He stoops to grab his jeans and underwear from where he’d put them on a chair, and he shucks them on, followed by his shirt. He rakes his hands through his hair, feeling overwhelmed tears pricking at the edges of his eyes. He’s had enough shit to deal with lately, what with midterms, his boyfriend breaking up with him, and now this pregnancy scare (well, not a scare anymore, as it turns out). He really didn’t need to deal with such a shitty person on today of all days.

“Well fuck you too,” he mutters to the empty room, bitterness burning in his gut. He’s going to go straight to the next city clinic, and the next, and the next, until he finds someone to agree to help him. Because no way in fucking hell is he having a baby one semester into undergrad.

After:

Bucky trails his hands over the spines of the books that line Commander Rogers’ library. Steve is sitting at his desk, distracted by whatever he’s looking at on the screen of his computer.

There must be over a thousand books in the office. Steve has books on everything from philosophy to horticulture; from biographies and novels, to antique encyclopedias and foreign language art books. Bucky can’t help but be impressed. And jealous. "This is amazing," he murmurs.

Steve spares him a glance from over at his desk. He looks vaguely amused. “It’s just a library.”

Said like someone who's never had anything taken away from him, Bucky thinks peevishly. “Must be a thousand," he guesses.

"Close to twelve hundred, last time I counted."

"Are they all yours, or did they come with—” he cuts himself off before he can complete the question.

It’s not talked about openly, isn't considered polite, but everybody knows that the Commanders of the Faithful all live in grand houses that were taken and not bought. Taken from people deemed unworthy by the government. Gender traitors, freedom fighters, apostates. There are plenty of things that can get a person killed these days, their house stripped away along with everything else they own. There’s a strong chance that this house they’re standing in right now got snatched from someone else; a person with a life, hopes and dreams, furniture, family. A person with possessions and passions. With books. 

Bucky tenses when he comes across an entire section stuffed full with different spiritual and holy books. There's one whole shelf dedicated to nothing but an assortment of bibles: King James, Catholic, Greek, and New Republic versions, all. Old and new, English and Latin. It seems to be a collection, and Bucky moves away down the line of books, uneasy at the evidence of Steve's religious fervor. "You're a collector?"

“Sort of. Took me over a decade to build all that up, though," Steve says. "I brought them all down when I moved. Couldn’t choose which ones to leave behind."

"Behind?"

"In New York.”

Bucky snaps to attention. “New York City?” he asks.

Steve looks over and sees his reaction—which must be telling, because a knowing smile splits his face. “What borough?” he asks.

“Brooklyn. Red Hook."

He scoffs and thumbs at his own chest. “Gowanus. Wow. I guess it’s a small world after all, huh? We probably grew up less than twenty minutes apart from each other."

Bucky bites his tongue to keep from saying any number of inappropriate, unfriendly things; about how their shared West Brooklyn origin is probably the only thing they have in common, how their situations are nothing alike, how Steve is obviously older than him, so they definitely were never “growing up” at the same time together, no matter where they lived. "Yeah,” he grunts. “Small world."

He keeps his focus on the books in front of his face. He's nervous just from perusing the titles; feels like he’s thirteen again, sneaking into his parents’ wine fridge, about to be caught and grounded at any second. Silly perhaps, but he can’t shake it. He doesn’t want to get into an unnecessary discussion on his appreciation for Commander Rogers’ library, or his own affinity for reading. Reading is forbidden for people like Bucky now. If caught, it could cost him a finger, or god forbid a whole hand. Since he’s only got the one left to work with, he’s got to be careful. The back of his brain keeps itching with the niggling reminder, over and over again: This could still be a trick.

In another life maybe he’dve be embarrassed of such paranoia, but he isn't now. He’s been conditioned to be this suspicious. At this point it’s simply survival instinct, to resist the twitch of his fingers as they linger over Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go. It's sandwiched alphabetically right between Huxley and Orwell, with a little metal placard overhead that's engraved in tidy letters: Dystopian Fiction. Bucky starts to reach for the book.

“You a fan of the genre?”

His heart leaps and he jerks his hand back and looks over at Steve. “What? No. No I just …” Steve watches him keenly, with an inscrutable expression that does nothing to calm Bucky's nerves. He hastily shakes his head. “I’d seen the movie once, is all. Before.” He doesn’t have to expound on what “Before” means. They both know. Before the government collapsed. Before the regime took over. Before the world went to shit.

Well, he doesn’t yet know if Steve agrees with that last part. Regardless, Bucky knows he can’t place all of his trust on this man and his considerate treatment thus far. It isn’t worth what little bodily integrity he has left. He's got to be careful. “It was a depressing movie, anyway,” he mumbles, and moves on down the line of books to look for something else.

He winds up choosing a pulpy science fiction novel that he’s never heard of, by an author he’s never heard of, with subject matter completely removed from real life. It’s a cheap paperback, with a worn spine and outdated, sun-bleached cover art. Looks like something somebody dug out of a bin at a yard sale. It's probably not a very good read, but if Bucky’s going to be caught reading anything, it’ll be least painful if it’s something that has nothing to do with anything. Nothing … subversive. 

Steve doesn’t seem to care one way or another, though his eyes do seem sympathetic, as if he knows that Bucky is holding himself back. “You can come at night,” he tells him. “After dinner. I’ll be in here most nights. Sometimes doing business with other people, but when it’s just you and I alone together, I'll lock the door. You can stay and read whatever you like.”

Bucky tenses up at that wording: “alone together.” Since Gilead began, there’s only ever been one alpha who went out of his way to be alone with Bucky, and it hadn’t been for charitable reasons. “But it's not … It’s not a trade, right?” he checks nervously. When he works up the nerve to look at Steve's face, he catches the tail end of a shocked look, which rapidly bleeds into a scowl of insulted indignation. Bucky panics and tries to backtrack. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t have to come in here at all, if you don’t want to,” Steve snaps. “Go to your room instead, for all I care.” He goes back to his typing at the computer, visibly incensed. “I don’t expect anything from you.”

Bucky winces, mortified at having pissed off his new Commander so soon—and when the guy was only trying to be nice to him, too! There’s so little left in this miserable world for people like Bucky, and now he fears he might’ve ruined the one good thing that was being offered. “No,” he hurries to say. “I’ll stay. I-I'd like to. I mean ... if that’s still okay?” 

Steve shrugs and doesn’t look over. “Do what you want.”

Feeling cowed, Bucky goes over to sit on the couch. He curls up in the corner nearest the room's fireplace and flips past the copyright and the title pages. He begins reading chapter one. It’s only as he’s re-reading the same paragraph for the third time that he realizes he’s not taking any of it in. He sighs and looks over at Steve. “I’m sorry," he says. "I wasn’t trying to insult you."

"It's fine."

Bucky bites his lip and looks back down. After another moment, he quietly adds, "Really, though. It's ... it means a lot, you letting me read in here." He peeks up again and finds Steve regarding him again, this time with a softened expression. Bucky tries to smile a little, and uses his name like a peace offering: "Thank you ... Steve."

Steve inhales deeply and nods, satisfied. “You’re welcome. Bucky.”

Story Masterlist

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[moony-2001]

Lore Olympus ep. 252 critique

Before all you stans get mad I generally thought this episode was pretty okay. But maybe that’s because not a whole lot happened.

Cassandra

So going in the order of events, first up is our favorite gal Cassandra.

Gotta say, already like her loads.

I don’t have a whole lot to say about her general existence, beyond the fact that it’s stupid that Apollo is using her as a walking incognito tab. My main criticism more lies around the idea of when did Apollo even meet her? He obviously couldn’t have met her during the time skip because there were no interactions allowed between realms during that time and he was kicking it in Olympus.

We also have no indication of when he actually met her post-punishment. There’s no definitive timeline for how far we are post-time skip, but by my estimation, we can’t be more than a month past when the embargo officially lifted. Idk I can already smell the mess that is this storyline a mile away.

The SA plot line

Holy fuck. I don’t exactly know what the hell Rachel is exactly trying to achieve with the SA plot line but I can tell you that the handling of it has been piss poor.

Uhhh... this is great and all except for the fact that Persephone never thought this. There is not one shred of evidence that Persephone ever liked or actually found Apollo handsome. Not even in the very early chapters. She didn't even say that he made her feel special. She said that she liked the way Hades made her feel. Hades made her feel special by grooming her but that's a whole-ass post on its own.

Even after her assault, she continued to express at minimum a clear discomfort for him in front of others and at maximum immense hatred for him when by herself or with only him. And now suddenly Rachel wants to flip the script? Why? What purpose would that serve? Why is she suddenly backpedaling on a plotline that was established within the first 25 episodes/the second day Persephone is on Olympus? The SA plotline is the longest-running and the "big bad" that has yet to be resolved. But now it only pops up when the story needs a little conflict or an extra boost to drive it forward. Plus now she wants to portray Apollo as this misunderstood ex-love interest/boyfriend with whom the audience is supposed to sympathize? It's disgusting. @genericpuff who I really need to stop tagging in these posts I'm so sorry made an excellent essay about how Rachel is burying the SA plot line that basically takes what I've said above and greatly expands it. Go read it, they made a lot of excellent points.

Melinoe

Ah yes. The mystery deity that was really Hades’ inner child/actual child all along!

So I actually had a conversation with another LO critic about how weird I thought this "inner child -> actual canonical child" pipeline was. Now, granted, I could be reading into this way too much but when I first read this, I honestly thought it was some kind of weird/unintentional representation of parents projecting their trauma onto their children.

We've seen this little ghost buddy in past chapters and a lot of people (myself included) thought that our ghost buddy was a representation of Hades' inner child. A little Hades if you will. And it was portrayed that way. We often saw our little ghost buddy/little Hades who was extremely traumatized by Hades' past experiences. The part of Hades that just can't let go despite what he may claim about "moving on" or "being better". But if this little ghost/Hades is actually their kid Melinoe, that means they saw everything that Hades went through. All his traumas, all his struggles. Everything. And now also with Persephone and her little jaunt through the mind-scape and the shit she saw. So now we have to recontextualize all of those scenes where Hades interacts with this being and tbh the scenes kind of become very ick? This is such a strange direction to take this particular storyline. Something about it just rubs me the wrong way and I don't know if it's my above complaint or something else.

But yeah. Pretty tame in comparison to some of my past posts and posts that will come. Until the next chapter and/or my next post.

[naranjapetrificada]

I have really, really loved seeing everyone talking about their favorite fics they've written but I wasn't expecting to be tagged tbh because I've posted so few. Thanks so much @scribophile for tagging me so I can play too!

I only have 3 one-shots and a stagnating WIP to my name but I do have favorites, so.

Cornerstone means a lot to me because it was the first time I'd felt moved to write fiction (fan or original) in over a decade. I have years (and two post-secondary degrees worth) of baggage around writing in the way that only 90s "gifted kids" who were actually just neurodivergent can, and being able to write fiction again after so much time and angst has been such a joy.

My favorite of the one-shots though is probably Ways of Wanting, which was literally just inspired by Ed's beautiful, beautiful neck and written in a flurry of thoughts and feelings about the sublimation of queer desire. What I love about it is that if Cornerstone was the roots a seemingly-dead tree defiantly bursting through concrete, then Ways is like the first green shoots of new growth to sprout from the tree's branches. It was fun to write but more than anything else it felt necessary, because I needed to see myself stretching beyond my limits and doing something new.

(I also really love the Birth of Venus image that popped into my head at the last second, and if that had been the only thing to come from having written the whole thing it would still feel worth it.)

Last of course is my historical-ish fantasy-ish WIP, From the Firmament, which I am going to finish, because there's nothing I hate more than breaking promises I've made to myself. Getting the chance to write something this self-indulgent has been so rewarding, especially because of how much it's reminded me that writing can be fun.

Now obviously, drafting chapter 3 has taken significantly more time than anticipated. Part of the problem is that Izzy, in typical fashion, elbowed his way into having a POV section that has been as unpleasant to write as the man himself is to be around (although I have to admit that some of the discomfort is creative growing pains).

But beyond Izzy, there are things about the storytelling process itself at this point that are dredging up a lot of my writing baggage in a way that writing the first two chapters didn't. For a few reasons Ed's POV always takes me the longest, and he's got the lion's share of this chapter's narration. And I definitely spent too long deciding which historical blurb should start the chapter, which kept me floundering for too long trying to build the chapter's basic skeleton. I'm also having to work through poet-brain perfectionism with some of the prose.

But I'm determined to finally learn these and other craft lessons I've been putting off for decades though, just as I'm determined to see this story through to the end.

(also I got laid off in June and sometimes feel guilty if I'm not spending every waking moment on job sites, which is a mistake but it makes writing fic harder than it needs to be. I'm working on it.)

I feel like this game has been going around long enough that almost everyone I would tag has already been tagged, but last time I checked I didn't see a post from @veeagainsttheday nor @tresdem? Both are incredibly skilled (and maybe more importantly, dedicated) writers who have made me cry repeatedly in the best ways possible, so even if they don't want to make their own posts you should still go read their gentlebeard work immediately.

[seidenbros]

Breaking the Ice - Chapter 1

Pairing: Wylan van Eck x Jesper Fahey Summary: When Hockey star Jesper Fahey is knocked unconscious during a game, he is out for weeks. Once back on the ice, his coach Kaz Brekker teams up with figure skating coach Inej Ghafa to bring him and figure skating talent Wylan van Eck together, because he'd come back from a very bad injury before, and they think these two can learn from each other. What neither of them know is what happened between them a few months back at a Charity Gala. Or, well, nearly happened. Misunderstandings are pretty much inevitable, especially because they don't really talk to each other properly. What is undeniable, though, is the attraction between them. Will they be professional enough to ignore this, or will the sparks between them begin to melt the ice more and more? And of course, there is also Jan van Eck, hockey legend, praised by many, but hardly anybody knows what it really was like for Wylan to grow up in the van Eck mansion - and what his father did to him even after he moved out.

Warning/Tags: POV Jesper Fahey, POV Wylan van Eck, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Figure skating, Hockey Coach Kaz Brekker, injuries, Jan van Eck is the scum of the Earth, sexual content, implied child abuse A/N: HELLO! It's finally time to post this, because I can't keep it to myself anymore. This Hockey/Figure Skating AU has been in my head for a long time, because I love both sports, and I think they fit these two so well. There will be some more explicit content in the later chapters, which you don't have to read, if you don't want. I'll make a note at the beginning of the chapter, and give the parts a different text colour or divide it from the rest of the text some other way. It won't affect the story, and it's not like these are whole chapters, just parts of them. I hope I can stick to my schedule with posting a chapter every Friday, so you know you can expect that. I also hope I managed to explain certain terms when they pop up, so they don't stop the reading flow (though with the jumps in figure skating, I didn't explain them in detail) Special thanks go out to @taylacosplays @shog_draws @shippoutsy and @saskia_s89 (all of them on Instagram) for reading this when I started with the first two chapters and giving me their opinion, because I was so unsure about this. You're the best! So, now, I hope you enjoy 💚

Read on AO3

“Fahey to Helvar, moving past Bukowski, back to Fahey. He shoots… and scooooores! Goal for the Ketterdam Crows!”

“Sharpshooter does it again and scores his second goal of the night.”

“It’s certainly a great start to the season for the Crows.”

“Especially after that crushing end in the playoffs last season.”

“True. But it seems like they did their homework in the off-season.”

“I sure hope so, because I’d love to see a lot more of that.”

The first game of the new season was a huge success for the Ketterdam Crows, who won the game 3:2, with two goals from Jesper Fahey and one from Matthias Helvar. Helvar’s offensive line had the team captain in the centre, Jesper on his left wing and Tolya Yul-Bataar on the right wing. They were a force to be reckoned with. At least they were that now again, but at the end of last season, a lot of their team had played with injuries, and they’d been exhausted - and that had shown. In the third round, they hadn’t even won one game. Jesper had wanted to play despite two broken ribs and the third time he’d gone down, he’d been out for good.

That alone had crushed him, and he’d spent the first part of the off-season far away with lots of alcohol until his coach, Kaz Brekker, had personally dragged him back home. Oh, he’d gotten the lecture of a lifetime when Kaz had set him straight and told him that he’d been drinking too much, and the time for wallowing in self-pity was over. Jesper had needed that, because he knew that he could get distracted from what was really important quickly, and hockey was important to him. As were the people on his team, and so he’d been back for the first training session, even if he’d been a little hungover. Kaz hadn’t said anything to him then, and the game today had shown that they were all taking the game seriously. They were paid a lot of money, that much was true, but it was something they loved, something they wanted to excel in.

With the first game out of the way - and a successful one at that - they were all in a good mood to take part in the Charity Gala the following day. It was a big event that was held once a year at the beginning of autumn, and Jesper had been looking forward to it ever since he’d gotten his ticket. The tickets were expensive of course, but that was only because that was one way of gathering money for charity. Another way was an auction that took place in the evening after the dinner itself. The Crows were contributing a training session with the whole team as well as being on the bench for the next home game. Jesper quite liked that, because it was always nice to see some happy people who really enjoyed that.

Jesper opted for a dark blue suit for the night, a black button down, topped off with a tie in the same colour as the suit - Nina his physiotherapist had chosen that one for him, because to an event like this, he couldn’t go without a matching tie. He wasn’t a big fan of them, but he had to admit that they completed the look. Once it got later and the official part was over, he was sure that it wouldn’t be a problem if he either took the tie off or at least loosened it. Before that, he’d have to talk to a couple of people, smile for the camera, and enjoy a five course dinner menu that he was really looking forward to.

“I’m on my way downstairs,” Jesper said into his phone the moment he picked it up. Kaz had put Matthias up to picking Jesper up for this, so he wouldn’t be late. It was just a safety measure, but it had still made Jesper roll his eyes.

“Alright. You’re sitting in the back, Nina’s already with me.”

“Woah woah woah hold on.” Jesper stopped in his tracks, reaching for his wallet. He took one last look in the mirror and grinned at himself before grabbing the keys. “Our Nina?”

Nina Zenik, physiotherapist not only for Jesper but for a couple of guys on the team. Jesper liked her a lot, and not only because she was good at her job. She didn’t back down from anyone and handled the locker room talk without a problem. Hell, she even managed to get the guys to blush with the way she talked, and Jesper loved to see it. The two of them were able to talk about pretty much everything, even stuff that had nothing to do with hockey. He’d known that Matthias hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her for a while, so he was glad that he’d finally asked her out.

“I told you that I’d bring a date.”

“Mhm, could have just mentioned who your date was.”

Jesper hung up the phone and put it in his pocket. After making sure that he had everything he needed, he headed out the door and took the elevator down. Matthias’s car was waiting right outside the apartment building where he lived, so he could get inside immediately.

“Hello gorgeous, nice to see you here,” Jesper said with a grin from the backseat as he reached his hand out to the front to squeeze Nina’s shoulder gently.

“I see you stuck with the tie I chose for you,” she said as she turned around to him with a smile on her lips. She really did look absolutely stunning in a red dress that hugged her curves and matched the colour of her lips. She was stunning, and Jesper really hoped she wouldn’t eat Matthias up and spit him out when she was done with him. He may be a big, buff guy, who could throw a punch and had the hardest and fastest slapshot in the league, but Jesper knew how fragile his heart was, and that it took him some time to open up. The fact that Matthias was taking Nina out, and to an event where everyone would see them together nonetheless, really had some meaning.

When they got to the location, Matthias’s car was parked for him. Sometimes, this still felt strange, but at an event like this, it was part of the whole experience. Jesper looked up at the tall building and took a deep breath before he followed the other two inside. In the entrance hall, there were already some decorations as well as guideposts. He knew that the Charity Gala was held at the top floor of the building. He’d been there once, so he knew that they’d have a beautiful view over the city and the harbour, though Jesper was rather sure that there was more than enough to catch his attention and keep him from going to the window front to stare outside.

Once they stepped out of the elevator at the top, they were greeted with a glass of champagne each, before they were shown the seating plan. It was kind of interesting to read all the names, figure out who else was here, and especially who they would be sharing a table with.

The name van Eck made his eyes widen slightly. Jan van Eck was a hockey legend, and as a child, Jesper had been looking up to the man, as had a lot of other players. Most of them probably still did, but not Jesper. After he’d met him once a couple of years ago, when he’d just started playing for the Crows, he’d been so arrogant and condescending, and he’d told Jesper that he didn’t think he had it in him to play in the big league. Well, being here and being a very valuable player for his team, proved that man wrong. It would be very satisfying to be sitting at the same table as him. There was also his son, Wylan van Eck, who was a talent on skates as well, but not in hockey gear. No, Wylan was making money as an extremely good figure skater. Jesper had seen him practising once, not so long ago. He’d spent quite some time in the fitness room at the rink and everyone else had already left. He’d needed this to clear his head, and after a long, hot shower, he’d wanted to head out, when he’d heard music coming from the rink. Curious, as he always was, he’d gone over there and had seen Wylan van Eck on the ice, skating, or more like dancing to the music. Even without seeing his face straight away, he’d known that it had been him. Wylan van Eck had a very distinct way of moving, pure elegance wrapped up in one person. It always looked so effortless when he moved over the ice, as if he was flying. The only thing that had destroyed that idea, had been the swish swish of his skates on the ice. Jesper had watched him, completely enthralled, until Wylan had spotted him. He’d stumbled a little, but hadn’t fallen, and Jesper, feeling responsible for that, had quickly turned around and left the building. He’d felt like he shouldn’t have seen any of that, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. Well, tonight he’d get the chance to talk to him for the first time. He just had to watch out that he didn’t stare at him, because Wylan was beautiful, almost had something ethereal to him. But that might still be better than doing or saying something stupid, which could always happen with Jesper. He’d try to behave tonight.

The food was incredible and the live music accompanying the dinner fit rather well. Not that he’d listen to piano versions of songs in his free time, but it fit the atmosphere here, and anything louder would definitely be too much. After all, there were conversations at the table as well, and Jesper tried to follow them, though he had to admit that it was difficult to listen to anyone else when Jan van Eck overpowered everyone with his voice. That man really thought he was the most interesting person anyone could ever meet, and it was annoying to say the least.

His eyes landed on his son, who didn’t look up to his father or even listened. In fact, when his voice got too loud or he laughed unexpectedly, Wylan winced or rolled his eyes. It wasn’t obvious to everyone, but Jesper paid close attention - despite telling himself beforehand that he wouldn’t. Wylan was way too fascinating to not look at him, and when their eyes met, Jesper couldn’t help but smile, no matter that Wylan quickly averted his gaze again and looked down at his plate to concentrate on his food.

“Hm?” he asked as he turned to Matthias who had just said something to him, but Jesper had been too preoccupied with the man  across from him.

“I asked what you were looking at.”

“Nothing in particular.” Oh, he’d definitely not tell Matthias that he’d been watching van Eck’s offspring, because he might never hear the end of it.

“Mhm, sure.” Maybe, Matthias didn’t believe him, but at least, he didn’t pester him with any more questions. Nina may have had something to do with this when she reached for his hand and cradled it in her own, beaming up at him.

Jesper finished off the last bits on his plate, before he looked over at Wylan again. It had gotten a bit quiet at their table, because van Eck was talking to his son, making sure that nobody could overhear them. There was something in Wylan’s eyes that made him wonder what this was about, but it certainly wasn’t a friendly conversation. That proved to be true, when Wylan got up a little too quickly, his chair almost falling backwards.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Wylan said to the people at the table, a polite smile on his lips as he showed them his empty glass. Jesper figured that he’d need something a little stronger than the champagne they were serving here.

Jesper kept an eye on him, while pretty much everyone else at their table hung on Jan van Eck’s lips again - except for Matthias and Nina who were deep in conversation by now. Just like he’d expected, Wylan ventured to the bar, but he didn’t just get a drink, he got comfortable on one of the barstools. Without rethinking this, Jesper got up, excused himself, and followed him. There was enough room at the bar, and they only had dessert left, which would take a moment to be brought out, considering that most people were still eating.

Jesper stepped up next to where Wylan was sitting and placed his elbows on the bar. While he saw Wylan turn his head towards him in the corner of his eye, he kept his eyes on the bartender, who walked his way as soon as Jesper smiled at him.

“What can I get you?”

“A Spellbound for me, please, and one for him as well.” Jesper nodded towards Wylan with a grin, and the bartender just nodded and got to work.

“I… already have a drink,” Wylan said a little confused, turning more towards Jesper, who was now turning to face him as well, leaning with his hip against the bar.

“I know, but I think you’ll really like this one. And I think you might need it.”

“What makes you say that?” He got a little defensive, his back straightening and Jesper could see that he was wearing suspenders beneath that nice black jacket he was donning. Interesting.

“Saw the way you were looking at your Dad, so… you might need more than one drink.” Jesper shrugged his shoulders, knowing that he’d just implied that he knew who Wylan was. It wasn’t a secret after all. The lopsided smile he got from Wylan in turn definitely had its effect on him, drew him in even more, and instinctively, he inched a little closer.

“Very observant, and also very, very right.” Wylan downed the drink that had just been put in front of him, making Jesper widen his eyes.

“That bad, huh?” Jesper raised his eyebrow, but there was still the hint of a smile on his lips.

“You have no idea. But I’d rather not spend time talking about my father here.”

“Yeah, I can think of better things to talk about than him.” Rolling his eyes, Jesper cast a quick look in the direction of their table, before he focused on Wylan again. “I’m Jesper by the way.”

“Oh, I know.” Wylan smiled at him and it lit up his whole face, now that they weren’t focusing on his father anymore.

“Do you now?” Jesper let his eyes roam over his body, starting with the shoes that went perfectly with his black suit, over his legs and his waist up over his chest and the bowtie that perfected the look until he reached his lips, lingering there a moment too long, before their eyes met again. Wylan’s were framed by long lashes that would make anyone jealous.

“I mean… of course. I know who plays hockey here.” The way Wylan’s cheeks started gaining colour betrayed how nonchalant he wanted to be.

“Aww and here I thought you may have looked me up.”

“Maybe I did.”

“Now, it’s getting interesting.” Jesper took another step closer, but then the barkeeper brought their drinks and Jesper quickly paid for them. He handed one of the drinks to Wylan and held up his own glass. “I hope you’ll like it, but it’s really good.”

“And the colour goes well with your suit,” Wylan observed, making Jesper laugh out loud at that. It was so random in a way, so refreshing, that it was amusing in the best way.

“Yeah, you got a point there. Cheers.”

“Cheers and thank you.” Wylan took the first sip of the drink, humming happily at the taste. “Oh yes, this really is amazing. You have great taste.”

“And not just in drinks.” Jesper winked at him, before he hid his smile behind the glass while taking another sip. It was wonderful to watch Wylan’s reaction to everything he said and did. It only spurred him on to get to know him even better, maybe tease him a little more.

“Is that so?” Wylan asked, sizing Jesper up, and he had to admit that he straightened a little under his gaze, put out one leg and pushed his free hand into his pocket. He hadn’t expected Wylan to say something like this, and he quite liked this duality he was showing. For a moment, he cursed the dress code here, because he’d usually have a few buttons at the top undone and the tie in his pocket, so Wylan would have at least something to look at, but it seemed like he was rather interested in what he was seeing as it was.

“Mhm, maybe I can prove that to you somehow.” Some motion at their table caught his attention again, and he looked over. They were motioning for them to come back, since dessert was being served, even though some people had just now finished the previous course.

“This is too pretty and good to down, no matter what my father will say when I come to the table with anything but champagne or whiskey.” Wylan rolled his eyes and hopped down from the barstool, his glass still in hand.

“Does he ever shut up? I feel like he loves hearing himself talk.” Jesper pulled his hand from his pocket and put it on the small of Wylan’s back to slowly guide him to their table again.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Wylan shook his head just slightly, but put a smile on his lips again as they kept walking.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t listen to him anymore, so I hope the dinner is over soon, so we can leave the table again. If you need saving from them, just let me know.”

“Thanks. That’s very kind of you.”

“And save me a dance later, will you?” Jesper had to shoot his shot right now and hope for a positive reaction, because he still wanted to get to know him a little better. And he’d get him away from his obnoxious father.

“I will,” Wylan said with a smile in Jesper’s direction, before he had to move around the table to get to his chair. It was fascinating and a little concerning how Jesper could immediately see the change in Wylan’s face as soon as he was close to his father.

But that dance never happened, because Wylan left the table after dessert and another drink. Jesper could see his father holding onto his wrist tightly, trying to keep him in place, but Wylan said something to him and ripped his wrist from his grip, before he got up and swiftly made his way out of the room.

Jesper didn’t hesitate a second. He got up and didn’t even say goodbye to Matthias and Nina - who were pretty much occupied with each other anyway, so he doubted that they realised that he was leaving, or maybe just thought that he got up to get some fresh air or something of the like. Good for him and good for them, because it showed just how well they were getting along.

On his way out, Jesper managed to grab a bottle of champagne while nobody was looking. It wasn’t exactly like he was stealing it, since the champagne was free, part of the menu they’d paid for, but some people would probably not be that happy if they saw him leaving with the bottle.

Once outside the ballroom and in the hall, he saw Wylan step into the elevator. Jesper had to jog over there to catch the closing doors so they opened again for him. Wylan was leaning against the wall on the other side, but immediately looked up when the doors opened again. With a smile on his lips, Jesper stepped inside and held up the bottle.

“Couldn’t let you dash off all by yourself.”

[epickiya722]

I do not know if it was you, or another blogger that made a character analysis of Gojo that made me like the character and discover more about him through the manga.

While I never read the manga before or watched the anime, I had been exposed to it by my friends and some BNHA bloggers. Back then, I found Gojo to be overhyped (discount Kakashi) while liking the animation(?) style, bit still no interest.

BNHA and its Endeavour Redemption arc in the doing was tiring me to the point that I stopped reading it and manga altogether. For mayne six months or so, until now, at least. I randomly found your blog last week , and it got me a new hyper fixation 😃. You got me to start reading JJK (Megan cos playing also helps).

I bought Number 0 and Number 1 of the mangas. Only to remember midway in Number 0 that Walmart Kakashi will be snapped in two like a Kit Kat🥲. I saw that leak in one of the BNHA blogs, and I didn't mind it back then since I wasn't in the fandom, but Lord, now it sucks.

Anyways, all this long rant to say that I like reading your posts.

Gojo, rest in pain, I guess?

Probably was someone else, I don't write much analysis posts about Gojo. I think once or twice I did, I can't recall. Probably reblogged one though you saw!

I don't know, they're really just two different characters to me. Also... I was never really an active reader or watcher of Naruto like that (just very familiar) so when I first saw Gojo, Kakashi didn't register to me at all.

Like, I did not get similar vibes at all. And it actually annoys me that people will be like "He copied Kakashi's flow"! Kakashi ain't the only white haired, face covering character out there with magical eyes, y'all stop. 😆

Even funnier when, by this point, Gojo has probably been unmasked more than he has been wearing something on his face and switches up what he puts on his face. Kakashi been wearing the same mask for...? Also, didn't it take years for Kakashi's whole face to be shown or something? Took like seven episodes for Gojo to show that face.

**

I always been a fan of Megan's music and then when I found out she was into anime I was like "YYYYYEEEEEAAAAH". She cosplayed as Miruko one Halloween and it made my year. I am a former believer that Miruko would vibe to her music.

Just seeing other Black women being unapologetic fans of anime (or anything) does wonders for me and I hate it when people act as if it's such a foreign idea to understand. Honey, we can have interests, too, like everyone else. It's normal.

**

I always try to be careful about spoilers for anything I'm into. Like, I can talk about a chapter that happened two years ago, but I'll still mark as a spoiler because I know some people don't read Mangas or even if they do haven't caught up to that specific part.

That actually what set me off when Usher cosplayed as Gojo because he literally put "rest in peace, Gojo" or something along those lines and the amount of people who weren't even aware of 236... like bro, come on.

I knew it just had to be a marketing tactic because I know damn well Usher ain't seen JJK a day in his life and how convenient it is he comes out with that cosplay around the time when "Daddy's Home" becomes a fairly popular song used in Gojo's edits. I can't go watching one video on YouTube without hearing that song play when Gojo pops up. And even if he has... WHY WOULD YOU TAG IT LIKE THAT?!

Oh, but Megan definitely doesn't know any of the characters she be cosplaying, alright... okay... 🙄

I'm just going off on a whole tangent here, I apologize for that. I've been sick for like three days and just woke up from a nap. 😅

**

Also, thank you! Glad you enjoy my posts!! Anytime anyone says they like reading my posts, I still get shocked. They're really are just random thoughts I been having and really I'm still learning grasping the characters and story myself. And this is just for any. I don't even for them to get read, let alone for anyone to actually agree with me. I guess because, at the end of the day, I really just needed to throw a thought out there before I lose it or keep rethinking about it over and over.

[outpost51]

The 51 Post

Figured I'd start some kind of digest!

Contents:

Things You Might Have Missed

This Week's Jams

WIP Breakdowns

From the Skwad

Around the 'Blr

Things You Might Have Missed:

I've got a taglist form now! Because who doesn't love a good form?

BRHP: Chapter 14 posted; Atria learns the meaning of touch starvation and really, really misses her dad.

WIP Intro: Caught in the Crossfire (18+)

WIP Intro: The Arsonist Chronicles (18+)

WIP Whenever (Open Tag): BRHP chapter 15 snippet; pop pop is having a time time

Crossing Over: the 5th entry into the Lighthouse in the Fog shorts; a new player has entered the fray, and a familiar face reappears.

Vampire Council lore and vampire origins lore

Aria/Omega snippety snip

This Week's Jams:

friends like these || Brassie [spotify/youtube]

Little Girl Gone || CHINCHILLA [spotify/youtube]

EVERGREEN || PVRIS [spotify/youtube]

Eyes on Fire || Gold Souls [spotify/youtube]

WHEN THE PARTY'S OVER || Cami Petyn [spotify/youtube]

Lizard Lady || Laura Doggett [spotify/youtube]

WIP Breakdowns:

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Chapter 15 should be coming out later today, with 16 slated for release sometime late this week or early next week. I'm finally in the chapters that don't require a ton of rewrites; most of what I've been doing is adding content. The whole thing is outlined through chapter 30 though! Since this is my entry for WIP Big Bang, updates will "stop" at chapter 18, since that's what I had published before the rewrites. After that, you'll have to wait for the release date! Which also means I have to wait for the release date for the serotonin, and that's going to be a nightmare.

Unlikely Adventures of Bitchface and Go F*ck Yourself

At this point, it's just a matter of making myself work on it. About a third of chapter 9 is written and the entirety of Act II is outlined.

Blinding Neon, Shades of Grey

nervous laughter

Stellar Parallax

Fuck, I missed this WIP. I missed Jane especially, she's so fun to write -- I'm about a third of the way into chapter 9 and it seems to be flowing pretty well? I just wanna get to the part where she and Saren beat the shit out of each other LMAO

Lighthouse in the Fog

Dunno if y'all saw, but the lighthouse keeper stories have a tag and a tentative title now! It's going to remain as a series of loosely connected shorts, and that may very well be what I end up doing with Xatal as well. Anyway, we have some lore groundwork laid! Look out for the 6th short later today!

In the Works

I still have questions in my inbox that I am absolutely getting to! I've also got a bunch of unanswered tags in my drafts and Notion. Losing a week and a half of planned answer time threw my schedule WAY off. Submission for SSSC #006 is in the planning stage. Hannah and the MILF Squad Get Up To No Good is about 30% written and fully outlined. I have... so many Kryterius prompts left to fill, and so many more spotify wrapped prompts left, send help. Still working on separating out the Daddy Issues smutshots, hoping to finish up the rewrites for the F!Shali one before the end of July. TIPYNTS is most likely going to come out in October, and by then I'm hoping to have a backlog of chapters to make posting more consistent.

From the Skwad:

Door's always open! 18+ writing server for both fanworks and original works! Camp is starting soon! We also have a flash fiction challenge and three bingo cards running until the end of the month!

@teamdilf continues to absolutely baffle me with her productivity here we go: A Cheesy Situation is now complete, ch 16 of Alice's Adventures in Andromeda is live, ch 18 of The In-Laws and the Grandparents is live, A Night in the IKEA dropped which I'm absolutely dying over, and that's not even all of it. holy shit J i don't know how you do it but i'll have whatever you're having thx

@thetrashbagswasteland dropped ch 4 of the Sunseeker rewrite and I'm adsfdafdadsf yes. thank you king

@sparatus is tearing me to fucking pieces with Make Less the Depth of Grief. i hate you (i love you)

@uraniumwriting also obliterated me with their FFF entry.

@wrathbites is back and I'm literally beside myself I missed the Vampire AU so fucking much.

oops @commander-krios got me invested in Star Wars please look at this.

@starknstarwars updated Smuggler's Ruin aaaaaaaaaaaaa

A few of our members participated in Shenko Summer!! @dandenbo wrote Volta and @mrsd-writes wrote both We Got Here the Hard Way and Forever Home!

@regalbois dropped a new original oneshot and has been going bananas over Bioshock lately and gifting us MORE mlm deliciousness, ch 3 of Magnum Opus went live last night.

@inflarescent has a new wippppp aaaaaaa -- intro post for The Roulette Paradox here!

@discoeffect updated Far From Any Road and I am devouring the first book so I can read this one!!

Around the 'Blr:

Have you checked out the Writeblr Directory or Writeblr Cafe yet?

I'm literally still thinking about @captain-kraken's Heitha translator.

@void-botanist dropped some witch lore I'm eating with a spoon.

@tc-doherty ALSO popped off with the conlang.

The dates IRL are lining up with the dates in @elshells's Agent Ace EXCITING also a new chapter is dropping probably by the time I post this lmao

@liv-is dropped this GOLDMINE of relationship writing tips also TIL what Liv does for a living not sorry

@writernopal first of all made me absolutely CRY being sweet in the tags last night and also dropped an aasoaf 3 sneep while i was composing this thank you my friend i needed the energy snack

did y'all see Find the Word XVIII from @artdecosupernova-writing i'm going FERAL

@tabswrites's Silver Sentinels has a second chapter, I am VIBRATING

@oh-no-another-idea just slid in with this little diddy that i LOVE.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Outpost Updates Taglist: @tabswrites @writernopal @freedominique @asher-orion-writes @liv-is @starknstarwars @captain-kraken

Ask to +/- in the tags, replies, DMs, or HERE!

[aemonds-little-belle]

FEELINGS SOLD SEPARATLEY

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (THE MISUNDERSTANDING)

Modern!Aemond x Reader

TAGS - (REPOSTED FROM AO3)

Alternate Universe - Sugar DaddySugar BabySugar Baby AUAUokay this is a whole ass story that's just one long ass brain fartliterally i am just coming up with this on the spotlow key really love it thoughSugar Baby/Sugar Daddyobviouslytalks of class issuesaemonds been hurt in the pasti think there will be some sexy stuff eventuallywait fuck i didn't mention this is a modern!aumodern!AUAlternate Universe - Modern Setting<3Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen is Bad at Feelingsstop that was recommended but so accurateI don't know how to do tagsI'm SorryI promise it's goodAnd no one diesand it's just so classically a sugar baby/ sugar daddy au it hurtsreader works at a cafe ... obviouslythis will follow a similar storyline to the show just modern and also not at allFamily Issueswait probably dom/sub vibes tooDom/subLight Dom/subclearly i don't know where this is going yetmy readers are always written fat because i am fatso keep that in mindSlow Burnit's so slowbut I think it's greatlike genuinely two idiots in lovebut they take soooo long to noticeUghI love fanfiction

NOTE - I'm sorry for leaving y'all hanging for so long! This chapter is slightly shorter than past ones, and probably not as great, seeing as I've been stressed while writting it, I just, it just happened like that, and I'm sorry! Please enjoy!

(Special thank you to @throughgoeshamilton who laid their own series headcannons on me and then me expand them, and also listened to my headcannons and helped me expand them as well. Truly thankful!!! <3)

+ + + + + +

A movie played quietly in the background, the world outside darkening as Y/n and Aemond enjoyed the calm that surrounded them. Aemond was sat up straight, his posture hardly ever wavering, Y/n laid across the couch, head in his lap. Aemond didn’t mean to let his hand wander to Y/n’s hair, nor did he mean to rub soothing circles against her scalp with his fingers, and yet neither of them seemed to mind. “Stop wiggling.” Aemond hummed, Y/n’s legs moving about every few seconds. 

“My pants are itchy.” Y/n huffed, her body going limp in a dramatic flare. 

“Hmm.” Aemond still hadn’t even glanced her way, his eye drawn, and seemingly stuck on the movie. “Take them off then.” 

“What?” Y/n questioned, abruptly sitting up to look at him. 

“If your pants are uncomfortable, take them off.” He explained matter of factly, his hand reaching for the remote, the tv soon silenced. Y/n looked to Aemond with shock dripping from her features, her eyes scanning his face for any sign he was doing this to make fun of her, to mock her soon to be bare legs, to have her vulnerable and pantless, in his apartment. But she shook her head, knowing it wasn’t her worry, but Alys’s words making her second guess Aemond’s intentions. 

Her eyes met his, Aemond smirking slightly as she stood up, a puff of air leaving her chest as worry flooded through her veins, her hands went to the bottom of her shirt, lifting it up slightly to access the button. Her hands slightly shaky as she popped it open, the zipper soon pulled down before she froze slightly. “Um, did you mean for me to actually take my pants off or were you just kid…” 

Aemond shook his head, leaning forwards and wiggling his fingers through her belt loops, pulling her closer towards him, her calves brushing against the couch. “I’m not kidding, little dragon.” He said seriously, his eye meeting hers as he tugged slightly, her pants lowering a few inches. “I want you to be comfortable in my home.” He tugged again. “You don’t wear pants at your home, I don’t expect you to wear them here either.” He teased, reminding her of the morning she answered the door pantsless. 

“Aemond.” Y/n placed her hands on his, stopping the tugging, pulling them away, her underwear now on display slightly, Aemond humming up at her as she spoke. “I just, I don’t, you …” She stuttered, unable to find the words she wished to speak. She took a step back, a few tears that werent there a moment ago lining her eyes, falling down her cheeks. “I want to go home.” She whispered, stepping away from Aemond, her hands shaking as she pulled her pants up, closing them, her eyes frantically looking around the room for her coat, her legs practically sprinting to the door, pushing the elevator button like her life depended on it. 

“Y/n!” Aemond called, his voice filled with worry, his legs following the same path she took, just not fast enough.

“Bye.” She smiled as best she could, stepping into the elevator. “Thank you for dinner. Sorry, I’m sorry.” She cried, the elevator doors closing. 

+

Y/n hadn’t left bed for hours, the sun out, city busy, her building creaking as the hours passed by. She had called in sick to the coffee shop, Eyla worried, but understanding as she reassured Y/n she would be okay. Y/n told her it was her burn that hurt, that she wasn’t ready to get back to work, that she needed a day to adjust. But in reality her burn was fine, stinging if she touched it, or pain radiating it if it chafed against the gauze at an uncomfortable angle, but she felt fine, it was her mind that hurt, thoughts rattling around without end. “Y/n.” A voice called, knocking at the door following. “Y/n.” The voice said louder, Aemond’s deep tone distinguishable that time. 

Y/n took a deep breath, her tears ran out an hour ago, and yet they threatened to spill once again. When the door opened she was met with Aemond, his eye as intense as ever. “Hi.” Y/n smiled, realizing she didn’t message him saying she wasn’t feeling good, rule ten shattered once again. 

“Hmm.” Aemond nodded, glad that she at least knew part of why he was here, stepping past her as she stood still, hoping that maybe if she didn’t move he wouldn’t see her. “When Eyla said you had called in sick I was confused.” He leaned against her kitchen counter, his hands clasping it on either side of himself. “I thought maybe my ringer was off, or maybe my phone had died.” He smirked, his eye flicking up to Y/n’s frame, a large t-shirt on, yet pantsless once again. 

“I meant to ca …” 

“I don’t want excuses, you broke a rule, Y/n, I just want to know why.” He was clearly mad, his words short and to the point, his knuckles snow white against the counter, eye squinting slightly, hell the use of Y/n’s name, not once, but twice, was good enough evidence that he wasn’t happy. 

“I’m scared.” Y/n admitted, her hands crossed over her chest, her eyes avoiding him. “What if I can’t satisfy you, Aemond? Like Alys can?” Aemond felt a shiver run down his spine, he should have talked to Y/n about Alys’s words more than he did, her vile accusations clearly causing the damage she wished they would. 

“Y/n.” Aemond sighed, adjusting his stance.

“No, I just.” She sighed, unsure of how she should bring her next point up, if she should bring it up. “Did you sleep with all of your Sugar Babies?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes trained on the ground still, every ounce of her being filled with dread.

“Y/n, I don’t think …” He began, hoping to avoid this conversation, but Y/n persisted.

“I want an answer, Aemond, I need to know.” A few tears finally slid down her cheeks, falling to her shirt, creating small wet spots.  

“Yes.” He shifted, his arms now crossed against his chest, his jaw clenched, eye closed, his head lifted to the sky, a last attempt, a call to the gods to stop the conversation. 

“But not me?” Y/n couldn’t believe the words she spoke. ‘Why am I mad? Jealous?’ 

“You’re different, Y/n, I’ve made that clear.” His voice was low and demanding, his anger clear, yet it’s destination wasn’t. 

“So you won’t fuck me because I’m poor?” She scoffed, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, her head shaking before she spoke again. “Or is it because I’m fat, Aemond?” Y/n angrily questioned, she hadn’t felt so frustrated in a long time, the thought of being seen as less than throwing her off an invisible ledge.  

“I would never fuck you.” He began, Y/n’s angry reserve breaking, her pleading eyes back again. He panicked. “I won’t fuck you because I like you, Y/n.” Aemond was shocked at his own words, he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit his feelings yet, if Y/n would even care for them, and yet they wouldn’t stop making themself known. The room went silent, Aemond waited for Y/n to intervene, to get angry, and she waited for him to take his words back, say he was just joking, that he didn’t mean he liked her, that everything was a lie, a ploy, a game. “I don’t want to fuck you, then buy you a purse.” He tried not to seeth, not let his anger for Alys and her mischievous ways slip through in what he said, and yet it did ever so subtly. “I want to take care of you, be there for you. I want to be more than a fuck buddy and a wallet for you to use as you please.” Aemond’s chest heaved, his heart racing as the room went silent.

“I don’t want you to be a fuck buddy either.” Y/n whispered. 

The room fell silent again for a moment, the two of them kicking themselves mentally for not speaking their minds the night before, the miscommunication useless and problematic. “But you want me to fuck you?” Aemond smirked. 

“No.” Y/n mumbled, her cheeks warm, her bare legs suddenly at the forefront of her mind. 

“You looked sad, when I said I wouldn’t fuck you.” Aemond’s smirk never left his mischievous lips, his arms still crossed against his chest, though he leaned towards her slightly, and even though he stood feet away, he felt much closer to her than he had been mere moments ago. 

“Jealous.” Y/n quipped back. “I was jealous, and confused, not sad.” The anger her eyes held only minutes ago crept back in slightly, Aemond’s smirk growing, his chest puffing full of air, he missed the teasing, the banter, the car ride to the grocery store popping into his mind. 

Aemond shook his head slightly. “No more running away.” His voice was serious once more. “You have a habit of running away when things get tough, and it can’t continue.” His crossed arms tightened slightly against his chest. 

Y/n pouted, lifting her hands in defeat. “See! You already have to change the rules, I’m bad at this!” Her anxieties crept back in, the conversation taking another nose dive. “But Aly’s …” 

“Stop.” Aemond barked, trying his hardest not to yell. He uncrossed his arms, taking long strides to Y/n, his hands cupping her face, forcing her to look at him, to really hear him. “Stop comparing yourself to her.” His voice was breathy, desperate. “I like you. I like your smile, your jokes, I like you.” She nodded her head. “Alys and the others meant nothing to me. But you, Y/n, you have me wrapped around your finger.” He smiled, chuckling slightly in disbelief over his own words, shocked he was so willing to admit what he had known since their first meeting.

“Which finger?” Y/n smiled, making a joke as she tried not to cry, his words genuine and scary, yet exciting. 

Aemond just laughed, his head tipping forward, Y/n leaning in so their foreheads touched, then their noses. “Whichever finger you want, little dragon.” He whispered, his words meant only for them, this moment made only for them. 

Y/n leaned in a little closer, tilting her head to the side slightly, Aemond’s eye watching her ever so seriously. “Aemond?” She asked, her hands lifting to grasp his wrists, not to pull them away, but to ensure he didn’t let go. 

“Y/n?” 

Her breath hitched as he leaned in closer, his head tilting the opposite way as hers had just as second ago. ‘Just a little closer’. The two of them were silent, sharing breaths as the room around them seemed to fade from their minds, the light buzz from her fridge filling their ears. “Can, can you.” She pleaded, trying to push her face towards his, but he just chuckled and pulled away, his hands tilting her head back, his thumb brushing against her bottom lip as she crumbled. “Please, Aemond.” 

“Hmm.” He hummed, teasley leaning in, ‘Am I really going to do this?’ ‘Yes.’.“Your manners mean nothing if I don’t know what you're asking for, little dragon.” His thumb brushed trailed along her bottom lip one last time, making it’s way back to her cheek. 

“Please, kiss me.”

[outeremissary]

Actually good gameplay/bad story vs. bad gameplay/good story poll has me thinking a lot about "bad gameplay." I feel like that's often treated as a really binary thing, but like. How many games out there is this subject often hotly contested on? How many older games, how many cult classics? I feel like for every game with "bad gameplay" there's at least one person defending the impact it has on the experience and atmosphere of the game. I've seen someone get heated about the idea of making inventory limits in older RPGs more lax when porting the games to modern systems because it removes stakes from the game to be able to carry More Items. You lose an edge of puzzle and of wilderness survival. The inventory management question is one that often pops up in discussions around horror games as well- what's a badly designed inventory and what's one that's frustrating intentionally? Or one that's excusable by the limits of its age? Is clunky combat bad in a combat heavy action game, or can it push the game's genre to suggest something else atmospherically? I really enjoy defenses of gameplay that's "bad" or "obsolete." I haven't been playing Dragon's Dogma 2 and have no way to judge one way or another, but I have heard it called unfriendly, backwards, and bad by detractors and unfriendly, backwards, and good by defenders. It's so fascinating where people draw the line and what criteria they use to determine what's passing and failing. And then when there are whole mechanics people love or hate too! I was looking at escort mission discourse just today. Conversation where on the one hand some people believe there's no way at all to attain a theoretically possible good implementation of an escort mission, while other people see even the most player unfriendly implementations as a challenge of player skill rather than a failure of design.

I don't really have anywhere I'm going with this, I just felt that the more I thought about it the more interesting it was because of the ways that gameplay could be interpreted through age, technical implementation, genre, and player tolerance in ways very distinct from how story and writing are judged. I think "good gameplay" as a concept is often positioned as gameplay which is snappy, clean, and accessible (accessibility exception carved out for games that sell themselves as Hard Games) with precise and technically well crafted controls, but I've seen so many cases for good gameplay being the absolute fucking opposite if it produces an interesting play experience. And you could say "oh, that's determined by the intent of the creators," but do you always have a way to know their intent? And how many games come together actually according to plan, with no schedule slippage and everything implemented exactly according to vision?

To use an example near and dear to me- yeah, I'm not leaving the Kingmaker in the tags after all- a part of Kingmaker's gameplay loop is kingdom management. You're exploring, fighting, and interacting with the world, but you're also coming to rule it through the kingdom, and this has to be balanced as a part of this loop just like all the other pieces. Kingdom management feeds back into the other pieces of the game- it gives mechanical benefits, it opens up new interactions, and when you explore it backfills the empty space you leave behind with something new, the kingdom, which can be further transformed. It also fills a different kind of empty space, the temporal space between chapters, and gives you meaningful choices to make when the plot isn't at a fever pitch by making it so that how you use your time has stakes beyond what exploration and quests provide. Kingdom management is also timer dependent and RNG heavy as fuck, and at points can feel very unfair even if I'd argue it seldom ever traps you and never traps you without an actual reason. It's also situated in a genre, the RPG, where RNG is seen as an acceptable and even expected part of gameplay systems. For me, kingdom management enhances the experience of the game and is an extremely worthwhile addition to the gameplay which plays in enjoyable ways off of other aspects of the gameplay. It's a part of a memorable and fun play experience. But so many people fucking hate kingdom management and see it as not just something they dislike, but something which is Bad in design and implementation. It's positioned as disruptive, unwieldy, player unfriendly, overwhelming, and arbitrary. And I see the case for all of those points. And I don't think there's any final way to objectively settle whether it's Good or Bad, and that ultimately what it gives to the game very much comes down to player preferences and playstyle. How you interact with a game gives these systems their meanings and impacts.

I don't really have a conclusion to this. It's just kind of word vomit getting the thoughts out of my head. ^^;; But I don't know. I think it's something really interesting, the fact that there's not necessarily an objective way of seeing gameplay as good or bad the same way that there's not an objective way to see a story. I answered that poll "bad gameplay and good story," but when I think about the games that make me choose that, it's not like they're unplayable even if sometimes I truly hate the experience of playing them. I think that their gameplay gives them meaning, specificity, and staying power in my mind for how I experienced the game because of this gameplay in a way that games with "good" gameplay can't always provide.

[gosiksmallspace]

Shipper Tag Game

Thank you @godotismissingx for the tag! ❤️❤️❤️

Sorry that it took so much time 😅

Okay let's go!

1. What ship were you completely obsessed with when you were a teenager, but now you don't care anymore?

There were some k-pop ships I used to ship but as time went by I just stopped. Maybe because I’m not as much into k-pop as I used to be.

I also don’t ship any of Hetalia’s characters anymore.

2. Which ship would you consider your first one?

Stella and Brandon from Winx Club or Kevin and Gewn from Ben 10: Alien Force. That was even before I was aware of what shipping was.

While I was aware, I think it was Shizaya? Durarara was one of the first animes I watched. And Heiwajima Shizuo and Orihara Izaya's love-hate relationship was so good for a 12-year-old me.

Or it could be SasuNaru…

3. Your first fanfic belonged to which couple?

Written it was Merciless. 

But read? That was so long time ago...

I remember I found some Ben 10 stories on the Internet and I read a lot of them as a kid.

But when I read and I was aware I was reading fanfics it was most likely SasuNaru or Darry. It was most likely still on Wattpad or fanfiction.net. On or those self-publishing blogs. Those were popular back then.

4. Do you remember the first couple you saw a fanart over?

Probably SasuNaru. Or another ship that was popular at the beginning of the 2010s.

5. Did you ever get into ship discourse?

I try not to. I mostly believe that fiction is fiction and when I don't like something I just don't read it.

I like to read people's points of view though.

6. Did you used to have any no-otp or have it currently?

Not really. I used to hate UkFrance from Hetalia but now I just don't care. And I never really shipped Destiel. But I'm not sure I would call them a no-otp.

7. Who were the couple in the last fanfic you read?

A new chapter of Merciless fic that I'm always waiting for was published. It's called Hidsight by duty_free. AND IT'S AWESOME, GO READ IT. It's a wonderful continuation to The Merciless that can actually fix those two morons (I have hope, it's still ongoing)

Before it, my friend @frayed-at-the-seams published her fic about Junho and Hoyeol from D.P. It's called Dogs and Cats. It's an interesting supernatural spin on the original story and it allows Junho and Hoyeol to be cute ❤️

8. Currently, do you have any OTPs?

Of course. My absolute favorite obsession is Han Jaeho x Jo Hyunsoo from The Merciless

But there is more:

Roronora Zoro x Sanji (Zosan) from One Piece

Sakata Gintoki x Hijikata Toshirou (GinHiji) from Gintama

Shizuo Heiwajima x Orihara Izaya (Shizaya) from Durarara!!

Oga Tatsumi x Furuichi Takayuki (OgaFuru) from Beelzebub

Lee Dongsik x Han Juwon from Beyond Evil

Kang Yohan x Kim Gaon (GaHan) from Devil Judge

An Junho x Han Hoyeol from D.P.

Miyuki Kazuya x Sawamura Eijun (MiyuSawa) from Ace of Diamond 

James T. Kirk x Spock from Star Trek 

Merlin x Arthur Pendragon from BBC Merlin

James Bond x Q (00Q) from James Bond movies

Harry Hart x Gary "Eggsy" Unwin from Kingsman movies

Tony Stark aka Iron Man x Steve Rogers aka Captain America from Marvel Comics (comics only.)

Peter Parker aka Spiderman and Wade Wilson aka Deadpool from the Marvel Comics

Loid Forger x Yor Forger from SPY X FAMILY

Hino Eiji x Akhn (EiAn) from Kamen Rider OOO

Shijima Go x Chase from Kamen Rider Drive

Kiryu Sento x Banjo Ryuga from Kamen Rider Build

and many many more

Also as an exception to my k-pop rule, I still ship ChanBaek from EXO.

9. Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting together?

Robin and Barney from How I Met Your Mother. I get that it was planned from the beginning for Ted to end up with Robin but did they have to make Robin and Barney so good???

Also, Merthur, like they had a whole story about them? All 5 seasons?

And Sterek. 

10. Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they are kind of interesting?

Zeke x Levi from Shingeki no Kyojin. I used to not be much into it but there is an amazing reincarnation comic AU on twitter (here) with them and I have to say that they have a potential.

11. Do you have any ship that, in the past, was considered normal but now you would be canceled over?

Not sure... There were some ships that I wasn't aware of age. I don't mind ships with big age differences but I like for both parties to be over 18.

So maybe as an example Levi x Eren? Eren was 15 and now looking back I'm not sure if I would ship it. 

12. What was your favorite crack ship?

Tried to think of something but my head is empty. I don't believe I don't have any crack ships!

13. Who is the couple you read more fanfics of?

Shizaya, GinHiji or ChanBaek. They have big fandoms so I could just move from one fic to another. 

Also YoonMin. I used to ship them a lot but now not really but I read a lot of fics with them.

14. What most of your ships usually have in common?

They usually banter or tease each other. Those love-hate relationships are my favorites. And more of them lately have an age difference.

15. What you absolutely hate in a ship?

Lack of chemistry? I hate too much drama but also don't like where everything is fine. And cheating.

tagging (no preassure): @daxianme @yardmargs @frayed-at-the-seams @bobafvcks @babischlong-six @stanaclown @igonecrazy @chhagiya @lovemevermore @ilikeallthepenguins @manproposes-goddisposes @backtomanyang @inashoe @darktecno @areththeimagine and everyone who wants :)

[tathrin]

not so much a fic writer question from the list, but your reply to #48 got me thinking - have you read Sansukh by @Determanfidd? If yes, what did you think of it?

I have! Probably much more recently than every other person on the planet who likes Legolas and Gimli, but I finally have and I adore it.

It took me a while to get fully invested, in part because I'm not really a fan of the leaning-into-movieverse-and-then-pushing-further thing that people have a tendency to do where they really dial-up the antagonism between Legolas and Gimli, which this fic did do in the beginning so I gave it a little side-eye about that for the first few chapters (but thankfully by then I was already intrigued by the dwarves so I kept reading)...and in a much larger part because—and I realize that I'm about to speak sacrilege in the eyes of many here, yes—I simply do not care about Bilbo and Thorin as a couple. I don't! I actually filtered that tag out when I first started looking through the Legolas/Gimli tag on AO3 because of how completely disinterested I was (hence Sansûkh not even showing-up in the tag for me at first lol).

But I kept seeing references to it on tumblr and in fanart (in particular this one) so one night when I ran out of other stories that I was interested in reading I finally popped it open...and, huh, that's an interesting beginning, okay. So I read a little more. And I found myself quickly getting interested almost in spite of myself in all these dwarves whom, I must confess, I genuinely could not remember which was which in most cases (meaning their depictions in the movie; I couldn't place which name went with which dwarf; I googled a few times I'm not going to lie). So it was interesting also in a more meta-sense, because here was this author taking existing canon characterizations and details and building up a whole society upon them...but to me, they were effectively complete OCs. So it was I'm sure a very different reading experience for me than it was for most readers, because I had no context for over half the canon cast!

(The only reason I sometimes know who the movie dwarves are now when people reference them is because of this fic I am not kidding.)

Although speaking of OCs...oh my stars, the OCs in this story are amazing. I'm glad especially that I already had a Mirkwood Populace of my own conceived before I read this, because Laerophen in particular is just the best and I want to read a dozen more stories with him and it would be very difficult to be trying to come up with Mirkwood OCs now without ending up with pale imitations of Legolas's brothers here if I hadn't already had Rilaerloth and company living in my head.

(I will forever live in hope that the author will someday figure out a way to write an original novel with the general premise of that ending trio's journey to the east because that would be amazing.)

Anyway, Sansûkh very quickly went from "I suppose this is interesting" to "I am so invested in this entire universe holy crap" for me and I've actually read the whole thing through twice now. I actually even gave a crap about Bilbo and Thorin's relationship by the end! I was rooting for them so hard!

Absolutely great fic. Spectacular world building, great character work both for the canon folks and especially for the OCs. Love it, recommend it with enthusiasm...even to folks who potentially don't ship one of the main couples, or think they have no interest in most of the characters XD

Although I maintain that I do still want this fic too.