#I can not stress this enough THIS HAPPENS MOST OF THE TIME I DO THESE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

graciedollie · 2 days ago

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Grayson Headcannons

Warning(s): nothing too drastic, lex sesbian, mention of scissoring, cunnilingus, fingering, and strap usage, slight dacryphillia, and small mention of tits/cunt slapping (😛), mention of different hair types and body types. Overall, just Grayson being a sweetie <3

A/N: She’s so underrated. like seriously I LOVE HER😖

SFW

This woman is honestly a romantic at best.

If she were to meet you at the Last Drop, she’d probably be drawn to you—your smile, the way you carry yourself, and how your eyes gaze over at her. She would probably try to scoot her way over and suggest to pay for your drink, which of course, you’d agree and you would start to chat a bit—slowly warming up to each other, but even so she’s an Enforcer and you’re a Zaunite—not a good mix, people would think, which leads to meeting in secret here and there sometimes.

But on the other hand, if you were a piltie, then of course she’d be drawn to you by all the things I stated in the previous line. She would probably be out on duty and you would happen to pass her, giving her a smile before she stops you just to tell you how much of a beauty you look. It would be a routine. You running into her and starting a conversation—which soon led to going on small dates.

I feel that she would prefer going to dinner, theatre, or even a small coffee shop as a date for starters, but as you both develop more in the relationship, she’d most likely prefer to treat you to fancy restaurants, spoiling you rotten, and of course, doing things you love.

Grayson would definitely be a very, VERY observant partner—like seriously. If you so even glance at something you wanted in a store, it’s in your hands almost immediately. If you want something, but can’t get it yourself and don’t wanna burden her with getting it for you, she’ll already be getting it for you. If you mention something you like (ex; specific perfumes, books, clothes , etc.), she will make a mental note of it and get it for you.

She’s probably only been in one relationship in her life, but it didn’t workout—leading her to be a bit more guarded with her feelings(??). As much as she would love you dearly, she still feels the need to keep her guard up, but as you both get more comfortable in the relationship—the guarded walls come crumbling down and she’s way more open to you.

Grayson is a busy woman—she’s an Enforcer for God’s sake. She knows her work is stressful and pretty dangerous, making quality time a tight squeeze. You know she’s busy and she tries hard to spend time with you—making sure you’re loved and feel appreciated for—but she makes up for it with the gifts she’ll send to you (ex; flowers, your favorite food, letters, etc). It’s definitely one of her love languages and you love that she spoils you rotten, but you still crave her regardless, as does she.

Speaking of love languages, besides gift giving, she also loves physical touch and acts of service. Whenever you two are out together, she’s always in touch with you—always. Hand around your waist. Holding your hand. Holding you close to her side. Locking fingers together. Her hand on the lower drift of your back. Anything. She will have you close enough to be touching you. When you’re alone together at home—she’s more touchy. She’ll have her hand on your thigh, rubbing along your sides, massaging your legs, and even massage your tits a bit. She loves having you under her touch, it’s really comfortable. If you’re not a fan of physical touch yourself, she’ll back off, of course.

Her acts of service is practically doing whatever you need her to do—most times doing stuff that you don’t even need to tell her to do. She’ll make dinner or help you with it—even if you fight her on it. She knows you can do good on your own, but she just wants to show you how much she really loves and cares for you. She’ll help you slip on your shoes, zip up your dress (if you’re a fan of wearing them), and helping you do your hair. Now, if you have like type 3/4 hair, she’ll be confused on how to care for your hair, but trust me—SHE GONE LEARN. It’ll take a couple tries, but soon enough, she’s your personal hairstylist <3

Being an enforcer is definitely frustrating and tiring—which mostly leads her to coming home upset and tired. You wouldn’t even have to say anything but open your arms and let her engulf your body—melting into her touch as your hands would rub her back, earning soft grunts from her. She’d stay silent for a moment before telling you about her day, which you gladly listen and sometimes put your feedback on it. As much as she tries not to take her frustrations out on you, her dearest, it sometimes happen on accident, but she will immediately apologize after taking a couple deep breaths. She never wants to make you feel bad after she had a bad day, but she definitely tries her hardest and make it up by holding you close to her while saying she loves you and she’s sorry (gifts are bonus points).

Now, if you were to be upset after a bad day, she’d do the same, but with more (idk). She wrapped her a strong arms around you and hold you close to her as you would either stay silent or rant about your day. Her hands would rub your back, occasionally smoothing her hand over your hair to calm you a bit. She’s very understanding and knows how it is to be stressed, which is why when you just snap at her, she isn’t too mad, but only encourages you to take a deep breath before she pulls you closer to her on lap—engaging you with her arms as she held you close to her. Of course you don’t mean to sometimes and you even apologize deeply for it, but you, too, are also working on it.

She fuckin loves watching you try on clothes. She could be sitting at the edge of the bed, eyes wide with such love and affection as you would come out wearing various outfits (outfits that she picked for you for special events). You would strut around with your cute outfits with a wide smile on your face, absolutely loving how obsessed and beautiful her precious girl was :)

Grayson is pretty strong (I will die on that hill.) and she could pick up a bit of weight tbh, so she just randomly likes picking you up—either bridal style or over her shoulder just to mess with you. Now if you’re a bigger girl, that’s even better. She loves seeing the shock and surprise on your face as she lifts you, chuckling at your reaction before hushing your protests with a searing kiss.

When you two have an argument, which isn’t too common, it’s quickly dispersed. If she’s in the wrong, she’ll be quick to apologize for what she said/did—but sometimes she’s stubborn, which would make the argument a bit longer (bonus point if you’re the same also). The argument wouldn’t last too long as she didn’t want to go to sleep with you, knowing you’re upset with her and there’s some tension. Eventually, she’ll be the one to come clean and apologize, which you also will if you’re in fault (if you’re not stubborn), leading the argument to die down—hugging each other tightly, relishing in the warmth of the tight embrace.

She’s snores pretty lowly, but when she’s utterly exhausted, that shit is so damn loud that you sometimes have to throw a pillow over her face to muffle the snores (not trying to suffocate her ofc <3).

As I said before, her work is pretty dangerous and stressful, which means she never wants you caught up in something—which is why she don’t really like to tell you a lot of things that involves her works. She doesn’t mean it in a non-trusting way, she only wants to keep you safe.

Grayson tries to be polite with certain things she say, but she can’t help but say it bluntly—especially when it has something to do with something that’s stupid. There are some things she won’t bother to speak on, but her facial expressions will say everything her mouth prefers not to say.

She has a good patience, but most times you push it. There are times where she literally had to go outside or something to take a deep breath when you asked the most nonsensical question she ever heard of all her years. (Isn’t she like in her late 40s or older??.)

NSFW

well well well

THIS WOMAN IS A SOFT DOM AND I WILL DIE ON THAT HILL.

Anywho…

But like I said, she’s a soft dom (literally gives the energy). She’s literally the sweetest when it comes down in the bedroom, slowly taking her time to explore your body as she would leave soft kisses along your neck.

Her favorite parts of your body is definitely your stomach and thighs. She can’t help but get even more aroused at the way your stomach jerks/quiver and your thighs tremble. She always pepper more kisses to those areas as she believes that parts such as these should be cherished and loves that you trust her to do so. (Bonus points if you have a larger stomach and thighs).

Most definitely eats you out for her pleasure and yours, ofc <3.

She takes her time while eating you out. Starting with gentle kisses to your inner thigh before slowly placing kisses to your soaked cunt and up to your aching clit—relishing in the soft gasps as she did so while gazing up at you.

THIS WOMAN LOVES EYE CONTACT. FUCKKKKK.

She loves eye contact dearly, stating that it adds more intimacy to the heated moment. She loves holding your gaze when she’s eating you out, fingering you, strapping you and even scissoring with you. She finds it enduring to see you struggling to keep your eyes open while she’s making you feel like you’re in paradise, smirking at your dejected whine when she stops completely when you squeezed your eyes. You try to keep your eyes open, but it’s hard when she’s making you feel so good and you know she’ll stop if you close your eyes :(( (EXTRA BONUS POINTS IF YOU’RE SHY OR NOT ALL THAT GOOD WITH EYE CONTACT).

She’s a tease. Shamelessly.

You could be on the brink of the most earthshaking orgasm and she’ll slow her pace, watching how your thighs twitch and face scrunch up. She loves making you wait for it. First, she’ll kiss and suck at your neck while sliding her fingers over your clothed-clit, but pull away soon as you start getting more impatient. She loves seeing the way your face scrunch up with frustration and neediness, knowing she was only playing with you—nonetheless, she’ll give you what you need.

She absolutely adores fingering you. Feeling the way you squeeze around her digits and the way your clit throbs against her thumb is such a rewarding feeling. She KNOWS she’s making you feel good with only her fingers, though she can use her mouth and strap, but prefers her fingers.

There are times she uses her strap and when she uses it, she usually has you riding her, on your back, or holding you against the mirror so you can watch yourself completely lose it.

Not much of a dirty talker, more so of sweet talker, such as saying: “you’re taking me so well, love” “feel how deep I am?” “No, baby. Keep them open—you know this.” “Hear how she’s speaking to me? I know, honey.” “Too much? Aw, baby, just hold my hand, yeah?” “Be good for me, love.”

Though she’s really sweet and soft when it comes to you, she does not take kind to you mouthing off to her whatsoever or doing something she specifically told you NOT to do. Argue all you want, but you know where you’ll end up. She’ll edge you to her heart’s content, even when you say sorry. She won’t stop unless you say the safeword, which she would immediately stop and check on you. Though if you don’t say the safeword, then you’re in for a night. She’ll finger you slowly then speed up, but stop soon as she could feel you tense around her. With her strap, she make you work for it, so you’re riding her. Nonetheless, she’s gentle with you after all the torture and give her girl what she earned.

She’s not too much on the receiving side, but she loves when you’re eager to go down on her or rub your cunt against hers. She can’t get enough at how your eyes practically gleam as your eyes met her glistening folds before greedily lapping away at her. Plus, she’s not too loud, but she does grunts and release low moans. (sometime whimpers if she’s overstimulated enough)

She hates seeing her precious girl cry when she’s upset, but when you’re overstimulated and drowning in pleasure, that’s a different story. Her lips can’t help but twitch in a small smirk before she would gently kiss away the salty tears, relishing all your little whimpers and choked moans.

Grayson isn’t really mean or such, but she’ll sometimes slap your cunt or your boobs, just wanting to earn a yelp from you. She does it randomly, leaving you on a questioning edge each time—which she finds very humorous.

Like I said before shes pretty gentle and soft with you, but there are times where you push her to the point of being not so gentle with you. Sometimes she’ll prop you on her lap to give your ass hard swats or have you on your knees between her thighs, fingers in your mouth as she glared down at you, but ofc, she’s gonna be sweet in the regardless.

but even so, don’t take her sweetness for granted. She will be QUICK to spread your legs if you try to jerk them shut if you’re embarrassed, overstimulated, being stubborn or all the above. She’ll also use her strength to pin your hips against whatever surface you’re against to hold you still if you get a bit too squirmy.

Now, I know I said she doesn’t try to come home from work with a shitty attitude and take it on you, but you, somehow, encourage her to use you as a stress reliever. She was hesitant, but agreed as you were gleaming to help her. The moment she comes home upset, you already know what’s to come. Getting manhandled every which way. Grunting and breathing heavily in your ear as she practically fucks you with every ounce of frustration she has.

Regardless if she’s rough or soft with you, AFTERCARE IS IMPORTANT TO HER. She takes it very, VERYYY seriously (as she should). She’ll make sure you’re ok, help you clean up, and cuddle you close to her while she coo about how well you did for her and how she loves you so dearly (and ofc you care for her just as much <3)

I NEED THIS WOMAN. FAWK

hope you enjoyed <3

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane imagines #headcanon #arcane headcanon #grayson arcane #grayson x reader #grayson x you #grayson arcane x reader #graciedollie ᯓᡣ𐭩 #https://graciedollie #lesbian #wlw #wlw blog

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howlsofbloodhounds · 2 days ago

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How do you think color(and potentially the rest of the friendgroup) feels about killer age/pet regressing

Do you think killer would try to hide it? Does killer even have a single clue of what is happening to him or why he sometimes feels like that? Would color know what it is?

I think he has a tendency to age regress most frequently when in Stage 1. It’s extremely hard to spot any signs of age regression when he’s in higher Stages, especially Stages 2 and 3, one who’d suppress and resist against vulnerability and ignore any ‘childlike’ urges or wants until his body breaks down from the stress and the other that’s basically pure survival instincts and aggression.

I think pet regression would be a lot more common in Stages 2-3. In Stage 3, Killer doesn’t really think, he just is.

He’ll curl up like a cat wherever he wants, and he’ll hiss and bite, and if he wants affection, then he’ll basically just do the skeleton equivalent of a cat walking up, jumping on you, stepping all over your stomach, plopping down wherever he wants, and if you think about moving or touching him wrong, he’ll bite you. Hard.

Given Killer is probably chronically online and uses his phone to further dissociate while working with Nightmare, I’m sure he’s considered trying to look it up—but he also doesn’t know if he wants to know.

Or perhaps because these are involuntary and triggered by reaching a breaking point, he often doesn’t even fully remember or comprehend what happened—and once back in Stage 2, it’s easy to dismiss it as not real.

Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, Killer finds himself in good hands.

I’m sure Color is the first who witnessed something like it, back when Killer was still with Nightmare. I doubt he knew the word “age regression,” at the time, but he understood what was happening. Could empathize with it.

Not because he himself only experiences age regression the way Killer was at the moment though, but because he also shares a mind, body, and soul with six children. He is passively influenced by them, and when is a soul is “closer” to Color, he often feels younger than he is.

His thoughts become more simplified and straightforward, his speech does as well—sometimes stuttering with uncertainty. Black and white thinking becomes more extreme, and emotions are heightened more than they already are for him— just this time without a layer of adult rationalization and sometimes without the presence of Patience to temper them.

For example, when Kindness is around and influencing him, he’s so focused on being Kind he goes about it the way a child would and not the way an adult would such as;

1. being *filled with Kindness and handing away things important to him without thinking because someone else looked like they needed or wanted it more,

2. being *filled with Kindness and hugging/having the urge to hug strangers without consent or warning because they seem angry or upset (which can result in strangers getting scared or angry and yelling at or hitting Color),

3. seeing an injured bird, being *filled with Kindness, and wanting to help but being unable to comprehend how to do that so he clumsily picks up the bird and ends up hurting it more which could also upset Ness into bursting into tears. (Which could potentially lead to Ness’ influence wavering enough for Color to think as himself and actually help the bird properly and hopefully cheer and calm down the child.)

And because they're six souls of various ages, their influence over Color can put him in various different mindsets of different ages. So he can be 4-5 thanks to Kindness, 12-13 thanks to Bravery, 17 thanks to Perseverance, maybe even any ageless sort of feeling thanks to Patience.

And thanks to his own experience with this, his experience with taking care of the kids when they’re nearby but aren’t taking him over so much, his old memories of taking care of Papyrus (so old they feel like decades ago), and his vague, blurry memories of Delta and Epic taking care of him when he’s like that, he’s equipped to help his friend.

Sans and Beta don’t exactly experience what Color and the souls do, as they are more often than not either completely separate or they’re Delta, and Delta tends to take Sans’ age and Beta’s bravery—but Delta also knows what it’s like to have a kid in your head.

I highly doubt he knows what’s going on with Killer, but he’d approach it through the lens of his experiences with Color—who he didn’t know was influenced by the souls for a very long time, because Color wasn’t even sure the souls’ voices and influence were real, not just figments of his lonely and guilt ridden imagination not wanting to be alone anymore, and was worried about being called “crazy” (not helped by the fact that Color very likely has experienced psychosis in the Void).

Epic most definitely took it in a stride, I feel. Making jokes and puns and quips. From what little I’ve seen of Epic, he seems to be an Uncle like figure to kiddos.

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cakesunflower · 4 hours ago

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lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 19

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

A/N: happy reading! comments & thoughts are always appreciated! <3

The morning is quiet as Rafe ventures out onto the balcony, the early chill making goosebumps rise on his skin as she settles down on the couch. The mug of coffee is warm in his hand as he sips, head turned towards the view overlooking the backyard and pool area. The sun is slowly rising as Rafe checks his emails on his phone, responding to anything urgent while saving the others for later. He’s wide awake, having gotten in morning work out and shower in, and has some time to kill before he needs to get ready for work.

He pauses for a moment after finishing checking his emails, a faint smile tugging at his mouth as he goes into his photo album and proceeds to change the lockscreen of his phone. He easily finds one of his favorite photos of Isla; one he took during one of their secret outings as they were walking, her hair tied back and lips a deep maroon, pulled back in a smile that showed off her dimples and made her eyes squint, chin lifted as she grinned at him while tugging on the strap of her bag.

She looks beautiful, adorable, and happy, not a care in the world. Rafe’s chest tightens as he stares at the photo of her—of his girlfriend—before setting it as the lockscreen picture of his phone. Now that their relationship is no longer a secret, he can do it like he had wanted to the second he took that picture. He loves her smile, can’t get enough of it. He’s a little obsessed, but with a girl like her, how can he not be?

“Hey. Good morning.” He looks up, surprised as he hadn’t heard footsteps approaching the sliding doors, and Rafe sits back when Sarah appears, hair slightly disheveled and an oversized sweatshirt, probably John B’s, drowning her frame.

“Hey.” His jaw clenches. He sees Isla’s teary eyed face in his mind, and though he knows Isla said that Sarah had come to her defense, it’s not so easy to forget how broken Isla looked yesterday. “Didn’t know you came home last night.” She spends most of her time at John B’s, and since she’s eighteen now, their dad lets her have her freedom.

Sarah clears her throat, stepping out and slowly moving to the chair opposite of him. “Yeah, everyone was asleep by the time I got in,” she says, sitting down with her hands sliding down the tops of her thighs to rest on her knees. Their gazes meet and Sarah’s shoulders slump slightly. “Isla told you what happened yesterday?” she asks carefully.

Rafe puts his mug down on the table with a slow inhale, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. “Yeah,” he answers evenly, gaze locking with his sister’s. “She was crying, Sarah.”

He sees her face fall, the regret evident in her brown eyes. Rafe is angry at how her friends found out, pissed that Topper interfered and fucked things up for Isla. He knew she was already so stressed, so anxious about telling her friends about their relationship, and had been waiting for the right time and right way to tell them. But Topper ripped that chance away from her, and she was more or less ambushed by the others. He hates that he wasn’t there for her; Rafe knows, as Isla said, it could have possibly made things worse. It could have had her friends on high alert and refusing to let their guards down if he was present. But at least he could have been there for her when she was being attacked by some of the people she loves the most.

Rafe could tell, just by the look in her eyes, how hurt she was, how upset. Her friends not hearing her out had been a blow. Honestly, Rafe has his friends, but after seeing Isla’s reaction yesterday—and what he knows of the Pogues—he knows that he’s never had the kind of friends that she has in them. It’s always been obvious how tight knit that group is and he can only ever admit it to himself, but Rafe has found himself, at times, being jealous of what they have. He wishes he had those kind of close friends, that kind of loyalty. For all of the shit he’s given the Pogues over the years, their closeness is always something he has admired.

So, to know that he’s the reason why, for Isla, it has gotten rocky—it physically pains him. He hated to see her cry; he’s angry that her friends reacted that way, even if it was expected. He’s desperate for them to be okay with their relationship; not because he wants their approval on his own, but because he knows Isla wants it, and he wants whatever she wants.

A part of him wonders if, if it came down to it, she would leave him to save her friendships. Truthfully, Rafe doesn’t think so—he doesn’t ever want to doubt her. But if she loses her friends because of him, because of his history with the Pogues, especially the guys, how would Rafe be able to live with himself?

“Everyone’s just. . . Shocked, you know?” Sarah says, breaking Rafe out of his thoughts. He blinks and refocuses his gaze on Sarah, who is playing with the blue threaded bracelet on her wrist. Matching to Isla’s yellow. He knows Kiara and Cleo have matching ones, too. “No one saw it coming and—how did it even happen, Rafe?” She shakes her head and Rafe’s throat locks when he realizes his sister looks awed, if anything. “How did. . . When did you start liking her?”

Rafe clenches his jaw, looking out beyond the railing, squinting slightly against the morning sun. His pulse quickens as he debates on his words to Sarah—words he hasn’t confessed to Isla. Not yet, anyway. “I think I always kind of liked her,” he murmurs, absently wringing his fingers together as he feels Sarah’s gaze burn his cheek. “I kept that to myself because I didn’t exactly get along with your friends. But then I’d see her smile and it just. . . Knocks me on my ass every time.” Rafe lets out a quiet, resigned chuckle. It’s the truth, though. Isla is gorgeous in ways that she could bring a king to his knees; her smile, though, is the first thing he noticed about her. Full lips pulled back to show the dimples that frame her mouth, showing off the apples of her cheeks and straight teeth, and the way her eyes squint a bit when she grins big. It’s a breathtaking sight—and one of Rafe’s favorites.

He focuses his gaze on his mug of half drunk coffee. “I knew she was too good for me, too kind. Hell, she still is. But then I saw her at your birthday party a few months ago and something shifted. I saw her hanging out with Wheezie and that was it for me.” Rafe looks at Sarah, who is gaping at him. The corner of his mouth tugs up as he shrugs. “She had me way before she even knew it.”

Sarah stares at him for a few long seconds, no doubt processing his words as she blinks slowly, lips parting. “I—” She stops, shaking her head as a disbelieving breath escapes her. “Wow. I had no idea it was like that for you,” Sarah says quietly, almost sheepishly. Like she’s embarrassed for doubting. Rafe can’t exactly blame her, but it still feels good to prove her otherwise. “Everyone kind of just assumed. . .”

She trails off with a shrug, and Rafe narrows his eyes. “Assumed what?”

Sarah twists her lips to the side, obviously hesitant, and Rafe clenches his jaw as he waits impatiently. “They assumed you were just using her, I guess?” She cringes when she says that, and Rafe knows it’s because his expression has darkened by her words.

“Using her?” he repeats tightly. If he clenched his jaw any more, he’s fairly certain his molars would crack. “What the fuck would I be—”

“It doesn’t make sense to me, either,” Sarah jumps in, in a tone that’s meant to calm him down.

But Rafe has been pissed off since yesterday, the second he saw tears in his girlfriend’s eyes. He’s fighting the instinctive urge to confront her friends, give them a piece of their mind. He doesn’t give a fuck what they say about him—but they can’t get away with how they had treated her, best friends or not. Hell, as her friends, bringing her to tears was not fucking okay, and the only reason Rafe hasn’t knocked down the door to the Chataeu is because he knows Isla won’t want him to do that.

“They’re just angry and confused,” Sarah continues, tucking a lock of dirty blonde hair behind her ear. “Rafe, you’ve—” She sighs, trying for a helpless sort of smile as Rafe sits quietly, listening with his jaw working. “You all don’t get along, right? And that—that’s an understatement.”

His muscles are tense. “I haven’t done shit—”

“I know. I noticed,” Sarah cuts him off, eyebrows rising. “I think they just have the habit of looping you in with Topper and Kelce.” She winces while Rafe scoffs, leaning back with his arms crossed. “But all of you never got along growing up, either. There’s a lot of history there that can’t be forgotten so easily, you know? Y’all have thrown way too many punches at each other to pretend it never happened. And, trust me, Isla pointed out that they’re not innocent in that, either.”

Despite himself, he feels the corner of his mouth lift at the mention of his girl defending him. Sarah notices. “Besides, you weren’t too thrilled when John B and I started dating, but you. . . Tolerate him now, right?” she asks, her voice taking a hopeful lilt. Rafe presses his tongue to the back of his teeth and dips his chin slightly in a single nod. “It’ll just take some time for them to come around to this. It’s a shock, right? No one saw it coming.”

“They need to apologize to her,” he says tightly. Rafe doesn’t care if they accept him or not—as long as they’re respectful of his relationship with Isla, and accept that she’s happy with him. “Making her cry is not fucking okay, Sarah.”

His sister nods. “No, I agree,” she says before silence descends, and when Rafe glances at her a second later, he catches her watching him with a look on her face he can’t quite describe. Confused? Thoughtful? He can’t quite make sense of it.

“What?” he asks, sounding more put-out than snappy.

Sarah’s expression softens, her lips pressing together in a knowing smile as she tilts her head slightly. “You really like her, huh?” she asks, her smile widening slightly. “You’re so protective of her.”

“She’s my girl,” Rafe says unabashedly, proudly. “The last thing I want is for anyone or anything to hurt her.”

“Good,” Sarah says with a nod of approval, getting to her feet. Her smile softens, then, more gentle as she looks down at him. “I’m glad she’s got you in her corner. As surprising as this relationship is, I think you guys are good for each other.”

Rafe’s head snaps towards his sister, unable to keep the surprise off his face. When Isla had told him yesterday that Sarah had come to her defense, Rafe had been relieved and glad, for sure. His relationship with Sarah had never not been good; it had just gotten rocky when she first started dating John B and hanging out with his group, simply because of Rafe’s own history with them. But what he had told Isla was true—he sees how good John B is to Sarah, and how happy she is with him. Whatever Rafe’s issues were with them, he can acknowledge the truth when he’s faced with it.

He had hoped the same could have been said for Isla’s friends.

But actually hearing Sarah say that she thinks he and Isla are good together, basically giving her approval. . . It feels better than Rafe would have thought. He’s glad to know that Sarah is on board with this, no matter how surprising.

When she turns to leave, Rafe watches her back for a second before he blurts, “You and John B are good together, too.” Sarah stills and then glances at him over her shoulder, her eyes slightly widened in surprise. Rafe tries not to shift uncomfortably where he sits; truthfully, he’s only ever been truly vulnerable with Isla, but he wants to get better at it with others. For Isla and for himself; starting with Sarah. He pushes past his awkwardness, his hesitance. “I mean it. I see how happy you are with him. I’m sorry I ever gave you shit for it.”

A few beats of silence pass, Sarah no doubt processing his words, before a breath escapes her upturned lips. “See?” she hums, smiling. “She is good for you.”

*****

The blades of the fan whirr on the ceiling of Isla’s bedroom, and she half hopes the rhythmic spinning will lull her back to sleep. If she strains her ears, she can hear her parents downstairs in the kitchen, but she can’t quite hear her sister, and Isla doesn’t want to. She has no doubt that an argument is going to break out between her and Kie the second they see each other, and Isla doesn’t have the energy to deal with this. She doesn’t want to argue with Kie, and Isla knows that she might just go off on Kie if her sister says anything against Rafe. Which she definitely will.

But, God, Isla just doesn’t want to face Kie, period. Her sister didn’t stick by her, didn’t come to her defense at all. Kie, of all people, was someone Isla thought she could rely on. No matter Kie’s issues with Rafe, Isla had genuinely thought—hoped—that her sister would be on her side when everyone else came crashing down on her. Isla can’t entirely comprehend the pain that flares every time she thinks of Kie not siding with her—which is a lot, since that confrontation at the Chateau. Kie just let the others attack her—let JJ attack her. That isn’t lost on Isla, and she doubts she’ll be forgetting it any time soon.

Her phone beeps, pulling her out of her thoughts, and Isla reaches for it, disconnecting it from the charger and looking at the screen. She smiles at the sight of Rafe’s name.

From: Rafe🤍

Morning, baby. Hope you have a good day at work. Would it be totally fucked up if I visited you at work for lunch?

A breathy chuckle escapes Isla, heart fluttering as she responds.

To: Rafe🤍

hiiiii. it’d be fucked up if you DIDN’T visit me

She doesn’t care that Kie’s working today, too. Doesn’t care that it might just be the shift from hell, working with her sister for a few hours after yesterday’s shitshow. Isla’s not going to let that stop her from seeing her boyfriend whenever she wants.

From: Rafe🤍

Yes, ma’am. I’ll see you around lunch time.

To: Rafe🤍

okay, have a good dayyyy

She lets out a sigh, unable to stop herself from smiling. Texting him, unsurprisingly, lifts Isla’s spirits enough to get her to kick her comforter off and get up from bed. After quickly making her bed, she heads to the bathroom and freshens up, wanting some breakfast before she gets ready for work. Which means venturing down to the kitchen.

As Isla exits her room and heads down the stairs, she silently prays her sister isn’t around, but those prayers were in vain when she sees Kiara in the kitchen with their parents. Anna and Mike are behind the counter, cooking breakfast, and Kie is sitting on the other side on the stool, her back to Isla as she eats. Isla tenses, freezing where she stands in the threshold of the kitchen. She has half a mind to turn and go back up to her room when her dad spots her.

“Hey, honey. Come eat. We made pancakes,” he tells her with an easy going grin, waving the spatula to the counter where the stack of pancakes rests.

From where she stands, Isla sees Kie’s shoulders tense as she sits up and Isla’s throat works as she slowly, reluctantly, wanders further into the kitchen. She warily eyes Kie’s back, approaching the counter and sitting on the stool at the end, keeping some distance as she refuses to look at her sister.

The tension in the room intensifies as Isla places two pancakes on her plate, pouring maple syrup over them before she begins eating as her parents talk amongst themselves by the stove. Isla doesn’t look at Kie as she eats, the clinking of their utensils against the plates ringing with the tension that radiates between them.

Clearing her throat, Isla asks, “Mom, can I get some coffee?”

Anna nods before jerking her chin at Kie. “Kiara, pass the pot to Isla,” she says before turning back to talk to Mike.

The coffee pot is sitting right by Kie’s plate, and when Isla’s gaze slides over, she sees Kie continuing to eat breakfast while scrolling on her phone as if she didn’t hear their mom. Isla stares at Kie for a beat, hoping that her gaze will burn her sister’s cheek, but Kie keeps ignoring her and Isla’s jaw clenches. It’s easier to be angry than hurt as she gets off the stool and storms around Kie .

“Unbelievable,” Isla mutters as she snatches the pot.

As she walks back to her seat, she hears Kie scoff. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Excuse me?” Isla demands, standing by her stool and putting down the pot, arms crossing as she stares Kie down. She’s vaguely aware of their parents’ conversation ceasing to look over at them. “If you have something to say, Kie, then say it.”

“Really?” Kie asks, spinning in the stool until she’s facing Isla. She narrows her eyes challengingly, head tilting. “No, thanks. I have nothing to say to you.”

“Girls—” Their dad tries to cut in, but Isla speaks over to him.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she says to Kie, shrugging her shoulders. “Since you had no problem letting the others talk to me that way and you didn’t say shit to them.”

Kie’s lips purse, nostrils flaring before she lifts her chin. “They were only telling you what you needed to hear,” she says. Then she lets out a short, humorless laugh and adds, “They were being honest with you—something you weren’t.”

Isla’s chest tightens, teeth pressing together to keep her lips from trembling. “I was going to tell you guys, but Topper beat me to—”

“You think this is about whether or not you were gonna tell us?” Kie asks, eyebrows pulling together as she gets to her feet. “It didn’t matter when you told us, or if—” Her glare sharpens and Isla damn near feels the sting of it. “This is about the fact that you’re dating Rafe Cameron.”

Anna lets out a breath. “Kiara—”

“Of all the freaking guys in Kildare,” Kie continues, staring at Isla in disbelief and contempt, “you chose him? Are you seriously that desperate? It’s pathetic—”

“Hey!” Anna exclaims, walking around the kitchen island to stand between the girls, her expression one of disapproval as she stares at Kiara. “That is not okay, young lady.”

But Isla—the air has stilled in her lungs at her sister’s words. Desperate. Pathetic. The hurt pangs through Isla’s chest and she has to stop herself from physically taking a step back. That’s what Kie thinks?

She thinks Isla is desperate? Isla’s throat locks up, but she swallows it down as Kie responds to their mom, “She’s dating the biggest asshole in Kildare, Mom! She—”

“I don’t care—you do not talk to each other like that,” Anna says with a shake of her head.

“What the hell is going on?” Mike asks, staring between the three of them in bewilderment. Isla presses her teeth together, knowing that her mom had kept her word and didn’t tell even her dad about her relationship with Rafe.

Isla tries to ignore the rapid beating of her heart, expression going flat to keep the hurt out of her face, her voice. “Rafe and I are dating. Kie and the others disapprove,” she tells her dad flatly. She sees the flash of surprise on her dad’ face before looking back at Kie. “And I don’t care.”

Kie scoffs, eyes flashing as she shakes her head and cuts their gazes. “Yeah, that much is obvious,” she says.

Isla knows she’s getting nowhere with this. There’s no reasoning with Kie when she gets like this, stubborn as an ox and not willing to hear anything else. The tension in the kitchen is heavy, suffocating, and Isla’s appetite disappears in the wake of this useless, aching conversation.

“I’m gonna get ready for work,” she says to no one in particular, turning around.

“You haven’t had your breakfast yet, Isla,” her dad says.

“I’m not hungry,” Isla responds before going up the stairs.

She gets to her room, shuts the door, and cries. Out of anger or sadness, she’s not sure.

Maybe both.

*****

Isla’s shift at work goes by slowly and tortuously. After what happened in the kitchen, Anna gave Isla and Kie sections of the restaurant far away from each other’s, which might be in vain given the restaurant isn’t that big. But Kie is given the outdoor area while Isla’s section is closer to the front of the restaurant. She and her sister kept their distance, doing their job and doing an even better job of ignoring each other. Isla knows their dad is a little frustrated with them, but Anna keeps him from interfering, which Isla is grateful for. The last thing they need is for this situation to get uglier.

Throughout her shift, Isla has done her damndest not to think of Kie’s words from this morning. Desperate. Pathetic. God, Isla knows it’s not true. She knows that Kie’s angry and upset and feels betrayed by Isla’s relationship, but Isla hates that that’s how her sister views her. By Kie’s own standards, if Isla could have dated anyone in Kildare, then there’s a reason why Isla chose Rafe, and she wishes that Kie and the others could fucking understand that.

There’s been an ache in Isla’s chest since yesterday, one she can’t get rid of. A deep, aching hole that isn’t going away, even after she talked to Rafe yesterday. She knows he’s trying to help—that he wants to help—but she’s not sure how he can. Maybe if he talked to her friends, sure. But if they haven’t listened to her, why would they listen to him? And Isla doesn’t want him to feel useless, like he can’t. The last thing she wants is for him to feel helpless in helping her. It’s not his fault and she doesn’t want him thinking otherwise.

As if conjuring him from her thoughts, Isla glances towards the door as soon as it opens, and despite the heaviness in her chest, she smiles as he enters, her first real one since this morning. Their eyes meet immediately when he takes off his sunglasses, hanging them from the neck of his shirt as he grins at her.

“Hey, baby,” he greets in that familiar way that makes her heart flutter.

“Hi, honey,” she returns, laughing when his grin widens as she runs a customer’s credit card through the reader. “Give me a sec.”

Rafe nods, standing on the opposite side of the counter towards the end. “Take your time,” he says.

Isla quickly rings the customer up, grabbing the two copies of the receipt and clipping them to the credit card before walking around and heading to their table. “Thanks, y’all,” she smiles at the familiar faces as she places the card and receipts on the table. She takes a quick glance around at her section, noting that no one needs immediate attending to, and heads back around the counter and moves to the end towards Rafe. “What can I get for you, Mr. Cameron?” she asks with a grin, bracing her hands on the counter as she flicks her eyebrows up at him.

He scoffs out a laugh, shaking his head in amusement. “Uh—” He hesitates, drumming his fingers on the counter top.

“Don’t say nothing,” Isla warns him, pointing a finger. “It’s lunch time. Eat lunch.”

Rafe chuckles and, gosh, is he blushing? Isla falls for him a little more just then. “BLT and a Coke? Please?”

“Coming right up. You want a table?” she asks, nodding towards one of the empty tables in her section. But there’s also plenty of space at the end of the counter, and he wouldn’t be anyone’s way when Isla or another employee needs to move past. “Or you wanna sit here?” she adds, jerking her chin towards the spot.

Rafe follows her gaze before arching an eyebrow at her. “Can I?”

“Mhm,” Isla hums with a smile, dragging the stool out from the space under the counter and placing it at the end. She grins at Rafe as she tops the vinyl top of the stool and when he sits, she smiles at him. The stool is kind of high, and he’s already tall as hell, so they’re at eye level when they sit. “Let me put your order in.”

She finds her dad in the back and she leans into the kitchen, asking, “Hey, Dad. Can I get a BLT for Rafe, please?”

“He’s here?” he asks with an arched brow, even as he’s already reaching for the ingredients to make the sandwich. “Is that a good idea with Kie out there, too?”

Isla tenses slightly as she rolls her eyes, though she takes a step further into the kitchen. “I don’t care what she thinks.”

Her dad huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I got that this morning. One BLT coming right up.”

Isla comes back out to the front, opening the fridge and grabbing a can of Coke. “You came at a good time,” she says to Rafe, putting the can and a straw in front of him. “You just missed the lunch rush.”

“I did that on purpose,” he says with a small grin, folding his arms on the counter and tilting his chin at her. His smile turns knowing. “Didn’t wanna distract you when it was busy.”

Isla laughs, feeling a bit lighter as her own arms fold on the counter and she leans forward. “You’re so considerate,” she muses, moving towards her.

He meets her halfway and her eyes flutter shut in response to the quick kiss they exchange, feeling any lingering tension melt away from her body at the first touch of his lips against hers. The kiss is brief but sweet and gentle, even as Isla feels the thrill of being able to kiss him publicly. The secret and sneaking around was fun on its own, but this brings a new kind of giddiness that Isla isn’t used to.

She pulls away with a quiet sigh, not quite wanting to open her eyes just yet as she feels his forehead against hers. But the hair at the back of Isla’s neck stand when she feels a prickle of awareness, like someone is watching her. And when she pulls back and opens her eyes, she glances over to see Kie glaring at them as she fills up some glasses from the soda machine on the opposite side of the restaurant. Isla’s jaw clenches at the look of contempt on Kie’s face, appearing as though she’s grossed out by the sight of Isla and Rafe as she scoffs and turns away with a shake of her head.

Isla looks away from her, catching Rafe frowning at Kie before his gaze slides back to Isla. “Did you guys talk more?” he asks, unfolding one arm enough to cover her hand with his.

Desperate. Pathetic. Kie’s earlier words make Isla’s throat lock up as she drops her gaze down to her and Rafe’s hands. His larger one covering hers, the gold family ring on his pinky gleaming under the light. “Kind of,” Isla answers in a mumble. When Rafe arches an eyebrow questioningly, Isla shakes her head with a half smile, gaze casting downwards again. “Nothing worth repeating was said.”

“Hey.” His free hand reaches towards her, fingers lightly grasping her chin to lift her head until their gazes meet. Isla sees the concern swimming in his blue eyes, making her chest tighten as she feels his thumb lightly brush across her chin. “You need me, for anything, you let me know, okay? Don’t carry this on your own. This is about both of us so just—” Rafe lets out a breath, a kind of desperation flashing across his face. “Just lean on me, okay? Please.”

Isla’s throat works when she hears the plea in his voice as it heavies his words. And while part of Isla wants to keep it to herself, to not burden Rafe with what’s been said so far, she also knows it’s not fair to him to keep him in the dark. She’s hurting, and she knows Rafe wants to know because this concerns both of them, in the grand scheme of things.

“I will,” Isla promises with a nod. “Later, though, okay?”

Rafe nods just as Isla hears her dad call out, “Isla, your BLT.”

She pulls away from Rafe, grabbing the plate of food and thanking her dad before placing it in front of Rafe. “Bon appetit. I’ll be right back,” Isla says, squeezing his shoulder as she moves past him to attend to some tables.

She brings water to one table and begins taking the orders for another, and Isla can feel someone’s gaze on her—a weight she recognizes intimately. The smile tugs on the corner of Isla’s mouth before she even looks up and when she does, she sees Rafe watching her with a small smile as he reaches for his drink. Isla’s heart flutters just because of his stare, flicking her eyebrows up playfully and making his smile widen before she focuses her attention back on the customers.

She keeps busy for the next ten minutes or so, avoiding eye contact with Kie whenever her sister comes inside because Isla doesn’t want to see the faces her sister makes whenever she looks towards Rafe. Kie may not like having him here, but every time Isla glances over and looks at him, she can’t help but smile, loving the sight of him there.

By the time Isla gets back around the counter, Rafe is finishing off his lunch. “You’re closing, right?” he asks as he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“Yup,” Isla answers with a sigh, leaning with one hand against the counter top and the other resting on her jutted out hip. She widens her eyes at Rafe, lips pursing before she adds sarcastically, “Should be a blast.”

She meaningfully nods her head towards the outdoor eating area, and Rafe presses his lips together. “Kie’s closing, too?” he asks and Isla nods, her stomach twisting. Rafe frowns, his gaze looking her over as though he can see her inner turmoil. “You’ll be okay?”

Isla scoffs. “I’ll survive,” she says with a shrug, glancing at the time on her Apple Watch. “You gotta head back?”

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, standing up and pulling out his wallet from the back pocket of his pants. “Can I get the bill?”

Isla makes a face, standing straight as she crosses her arms. Rafe stares at her, confused, as Isla lets out a scoff. “It’s on the house, honey.” He’s always paying for her food, buying her things; this is the least she could do.

Rafe’s expression falls flat with a dip of his chin. “No, let me—”

Isla cuts him off by stepping closer to him, their fronts pressing together. She tilts her head up at him as he arches an eyebrow down at her, mirth flickering in those blue eyes as Isla grins with a hand pressed to his chest. “You can pay right here,” she tells him, bringing her free hand up to tap her lips with a finger.

His lips purse in amusement, a subtle tilt of his strong chin as Isla wiggles her eyebrows playfully, trying to stifle her laugh. “You’re somethin’ else,” he murmurs before leaning down and pressing a sweet kiss to her lips, his hand resting on her hip.

Isla smiles against his lips, stomach fluttering when he hums into the kiss. “You love it,” she mumbles in response, making him chuckle lowly.

They break the kiss all too soon. “Very true,” he says with a wink. “Text me later, yeah? If you’re not tired, we could do something.”

Isla nods, biting her smiling bottom lip as he steps away. “I will,” she says.

He leaves after saying goodbye, and Isla lets out a long breath before getting back to work. The rest of the day passes by uneventfully, serving familiar faces and then some. She and Kie manage to avoid each other for the remainder of their shift, awkward and tense but in stilted quiet. But Isla should have known that once the last of the customers leave and the doors are locked to the public, it would only be a matter of time until things came to a head once again.

Except it all started by an innocent comment from Isla’s mom. “It was nice to see Rafe,” she says to Isla as she counts the money in one of the registers, while Isla counts the other. When Isla glances up, she knows for a fact sees Kie tense up from where she’s cleaning one of the other tables. “I hope you didn’t make him pay for lunch.”

Isla snorts into a laugh, mentally counting the money as she sorts through the bills. “Of course, I didn’t. I mean, he tried to, but I told him no.”

Anna chuckles, but it’s Kie who scoffs from where she stands. “Yeah, sure, don’t let the filthy rich guy pay for his lunch. It’s how the rich stay rich, you know,” she says, throwing a reproachful look at Isla over her shoulder. “Keep giving them shit for free. It’s only a matter of time until they take advantage of you.”

Isla knows she shouldn’t engage, that Kie is only trying to provoke her. But she’s also sick of all the nasty glares Kie had been sending Rafe during the forty minutes or so he was here, as well as growing sick of the harsh words she keeps spewing without a care. “Can you stop talking like you know him?” she asks, narrowing her eyes. She’s definitely lost where she was counting but she can’t bring herself to care right now.

“I do know him,” Kie snaps as she fully turns around, features pulled tightly into a glare. “He’s the guy that used to happily get into fights with our friends, remember? He’s the one who gave Pope a black eye and knocked John B off his bike at the last Enduro and got JJ fired from that mechanic job last year—”

“JJ keyed his car, Kie, or are you forgetting that part since you like him?” Isla cuts in, jaw working. The full story is that JJ had that job at one of the mechanic’s over on Figure Eight because the pay was better than working at an auto shop on the Cut, and Rafe had brought in his car right after that last Enduro where he and John B crashed into each other. And Isla can admit, that crash had looked purposeful on Rafe’s part, but no one got hurt—miraculously—and neither of them won that race. And so when Rafe brought his car to get fixed, JJ had done that. But not before keying his car, too. It was an impulsive, idiotic decision on JJ’s part, but that’s also not new.

“And stop making it sound like that the guys aren’t innocent, either. They love to pick fights, too,” Isla says with a lift of her chin. She narrows her eyes, pulse quickening. “You’re so damn quick to judge Rafe, but you don’t know him. People can change—”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Kie scoffs with a roll of her eyes, her tone heavy with sarcasm. From her peripheral vision, Isla can see her mom has stopped working, watching the two of them with worry. “Just ’cause he stopped shitting on us for a couple of months, he’s suddenly a brand new person. Do you seriously believe that?” she demands with her arms crossing over her chest, her expression holding nothing but judgement in the purse of her lips and arch of her eyebrow.

Isla feels like she’s losing her mind. “Yes! Because I spend time with him!” she exclaims, voice raising his frustration. “And you know me, so why the hell would I want to date anyone that I didn’t think was a good person? You think I didn’t think about how you guys would take it, how y’all would feel, when you found out about us?”

Kie’s nostrils flare, not backing down with a stubborn tilt of her chin. “Because you know, deep down, exactly the kind of person he is. You were embarrassed—”

Isla’s temper flares, chest tightening. “Don’t fucking put words in my mouth, Kiara,” she snaps, noting the way her sister’s eyes widen slightly.

Anna places a hand on Isla’s arm. “Isla—”

But Isla shrugs it off, walking around the counter until she’s standing in front of it. Kie is still a good ten feet away. “I wasn’t embarrassed to tell you about him,” Isla says, practically gritting the words out through her teeth. “I was anxious because I know you guys wouldn’t want to see the truth that people can change. You’ve all built some narrative in your head that he’s some kind of villain, when I know for a fact that he’s not. I was nervous because I know it’s hard for y’all to let shit go, and you would hold the past against him when he’s proven to me that he’s not the same person he was even a year ago.”

Isla’s chest has grown tight, her breathing a little shallow. She can hear her heart thundering in her ears, drowning out the sound of her dad’s heavy footsteps coming out of the back, no doubt watching this unfold with her mom. “But I had hoped you guys would prove me wrong and would at least hear me out, but that’s the only part I was wrong about, I guess.” She shrugs, unable to fake nonchalance as she clenches her jaw. Kie’s gaze is hard and Isla isn’t sure if she’s putting on a mask or what. She’s too damn tired to even try and figure it out. “You, though,” Isla shakes her head with a hollow laugh, the corner of her mouth curved up in a sardonic smile. “You really surprised me, Kie. I thought at least my own sister would try and defend me. But you just joined the rest of them. Didn’t say a damn thing against JJ when he was going at me.”

Isla swears she sees Kie’s lower lip quiver for a brief moment before her sister says, “You’re the one who chose your relationship with Rafe over your friendship with us.”

Isla’s heart cracks, but she has her response ready on her tongue. Even as tears threaten to fill her eyes. “And you chose your hatred of him over your supposed love for me.”

The blow lands, watching as Kie flinches ever so slightly and Isla doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt for uttering those words—not when she believes them, in this moment. Kie shakes her head slowly. “You don’t get to lie to us and then victimize yourself in all of this.”

Victimize myself? Isla would laugh if she wasn’t so damn hurt. “The only reason I lied was because I didn’t want to have to make a choice,” Isla fires back, eyes narrowing as she tries to keep the hurt from leaking into her voice. “Or do you not remember JJ giving me that shitty ultimatum? Or, oh wait—” Isla feigns a look of surprise, eyes widening. “Do you not care because you made the choice to stick by the guy you like instead of your sister?” Isla scoffs, pulse racing so quickly that it threatens to make her dizzy as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Pretty hypocritical of you, Kie. And real fucking hurtful.” Her voice shakes on those last four words, fingers curling into her palms. “I know you guys felt betrayed, or whatever, but did you think for a second how awful you guys made me feel with all of that shit you said?”

Silence from Kie, and Isla’s throat locks. “I didn’t think so,” she whispers.

Kiara’s lips part, but she still doesn’t say anything, seemingly at a loss for words. But the fight somehow still remains in her brown eyes, making Isla remain tense. “Okay, girls,” Anna says from behind her in a calming voice. “Let’s just take a breath, okay?”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Isla cuts in, her hard gaze fixed on Kie. To her sister, she says, “I like Rafe, a lot. And I love you guys. But you’re not being fair, and if you guys were my friends, I shouldn’t have to beg you to explain anything. You guys weren’t the only ones who didn’t like Rafe. I was right there with you, remember? But obviously shit changed—enough for me to actually date him. Did you even think of that?” When Kie doesn’t say anything, lips pressed together and jaw working to show off that conflicted expression on her face, Isla loosens a rough breath. She blinks a few times as she turns to face her parents, who are watching them with twin expressions of worry. Isla inhales shakily. “I know I’m supposed to help close, but can I just—” She shakes her head. “I need to go.”

Her mom’s expression falls, forehead creasing with worry. Her dad places a hand on Anna’s shoulder while nodding at Isla. “Go ahead, baby. We got it.”

Isla nods in gratitude, offering them a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Anna bends to grab Isla’s purse from under the counter, handing it to her, and Isla mumbles a thank you before exiting the restaurant, not sparing a glance back at Kie. Isla’s not sure if Kie’s going to get a lecture from their parents or comfort, maybe a mix of both, but she doesn’t stick around to find out.

The second she gets in her car, she starts it but doesn’t quite pull out of the lot. Instead, she grips the steering wheel and leans forward, pressing her forehead against it. A rough breath escapes her, eyes squeezing shut as she tries to calm her racing pulse down. Whatever she said, she knows needed to be said. Her sister needs to know the hurt she and the others caused to Isla, and whether or not that’s going to change their stubborn nature, Isla doesn’t know. Deep down, Isla believes that eventually things will work out, that they may even look back and laugh at all of this, but she really fucking wishes that eventually was right now.

She inhales sharply before exhaling slowly, throat working as her grip on the wheel tightens. Isla feels the tears escape with another shuddering breath, sniffling as she sits up and wipes at her cheeks. “Pull yourself together,” she mutters, flipping down the visor and sliding open the mirror to pat and wipe at the area under her eyes to get rid of any mascara that smudged. Swallowing, Isla pulls out her phone and dials the number she already knows by heart.

It rings twice before Rafe’s deep voice answers. “Hey, baby.”

Isla sighs. “Can I come over?”

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acupofinkedblood · 7 hours ago

Text

Katana and owl-hybrid reader

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

• Hybrid demons are definitely one of a kind. Whether it’s their gear’s doing or life has just granted them a so-called curse under the disguise of a blessing — or maybe it’s another way around, it’s a matter of perspective after all — no one can deny the fascination that bounds with people’s curiosity whenever they a hybrid demons with animalistic traits in the flesh. It’s not too common after all, so please excuse their inquisitive behaviors. Though most of them are different in letting people know in their own way — like how Ducky has a small little duck tail behind her or how Grav’s tail is quite noticeable — you on the other hand, your avian traits are definitely one of a kind

• Certainly the fact that only the SFOTH deities or demons related to them are the only ones with the ability to summon their wings at will and use it. But that doesn’t mean a very slight possibility of a demon who doesn’t have anything to do with the deities can harbor that gift of having wings. You are the prime example of what people thinks won’t happen anytime soon in the next few decades: A demon who bears the attributes of an owl. Don’t question how that manages to happen, just think of it as the spawn has been running on deadline so bad that it literally lets you pass with that extraordinary characteristic of yours without consideration— I jest, but hey, take it easy

• You’re still young, spawned into this world with little knowledge of what is happening at the very moment. It feels like you have just been dragged away from the warm embrace of nothingness into the world’s system without any relatable guidance to your circumstances. Sure, you still have at least someone to look out for, but it still feels weird nonetheless. Your differences compare to others don’t make it easier, now do it? It’s not everyday that people see demons like you with the promising capacity of soaring the sky once you develop enough. They look at you like an exotic specimen, not as a normal demon. Being the certain of the spotlight at such age, it’s hard to tell whether or not do you enjoy such attention

• It’s quite annoying to take care of your own need as an owl hybrid. Most people don’t get the little idea of how that dissimilarity, which is usually what they praise you about, can be such a pain in the ass. That little birdbrain of yours fails to grasp the philosophy of why are you such an outsider to your fellow kins. And don’t get me started on those idiots who picks a fight with you just because they can. Bullies are the worse kind to have a difference around. Such a hassle, no? It’s understandable to feel that way. Maybe that’s why the wilderness keeps calling out to you, so you might be given an opportunity to feel at home. And you did follow that sound, feeding your curiosity the moment you know how to spread your wings to some extent

• The unknown has been quite the surprises for you to discover new things daily. There are quite a lot of things you have on your to do list — or for the lack of better words, your to discover list — while you keep flying on track. But finding a parental figure is definitely not what you have in mind, at least for the time being. And the fact it’s Katana out of nowhere makes things even more hard to believe. Be as it may for people to find it baffling, that’s still the case in your situation

• How did this happen? There are two main scenarios that has led to this outcome: One is your stubbornness has worked its charm when pestering the man nonstop. Let me enlighten you about the possible reasons why you keep tailing Katana around even when he has warned you about the lurking danger following everywhere he goes. You might feel intimidated when sensing the older demon around your area, as owls are often stressed by stranger’s presence due to feeling threatened and out of their element. Though it can be helped - Katana does look scary in a kid’s eyes like yours. Yet it might slowly develop into curiosity. It’s only natural to feel so, and the fact that you aren’t fully aware of typical pleasantries when dealing with someone as strange as Katana. From that moment on, you keep following the man around as if you’re a lost little owlet

• Katana might be bothered by your continuously insistence on being around him. He did try to shoo you away a few times before, but it seemed to backfire his intentions as you just doing whatever you please to do. The older demon technically gave up when he realized that no matter how much he pushed you away, you will just fly back to his direction and observe every movement of his from a reasonable distance. Slowly but steadily, you start to grow onto him. It’s just the matter of time Katana finally gives in and decides that he has another responsibility to keep on his shoulders as a responsible figure

• Two is that Katana seems to see a piece of familiarity in you, probably in a sentimental manner. Maybe you reminded him of someone in the past. He has been wandering for who knows how long on this journey of cleansing the corruption after all, so it’s safe to say he might have met a few people that left an impact in his memory. Or maybe you reminded him of something good in the midst of chaos - a peculiar demon child that he suddenly felt the urge to protect out of nowhere. It didn’t feel right to leave a child like you without knowing that you would be safe the next day or not. It was odd of him to decide to take care of you like that, though comes to think of it, no one can really read what Katana has in mind anyway

• Katana isn’t that good with simple words for children like you, so he will rely on his actions to make sure that you know he cares for you. He is like those traditional father figure who looks intimidatingly quiet but loves his child deep down no matter what

• Whatever is it that has the familiar bound between the two of going on — you convinced him or he convinced you — it doesn’t matter. You’re his child now, and although Katana would say that he isn’t the best father figure to someone your age when he looks at the other family, that doesn’t mean he won’t try for you. Katana wishes for you to be comfortable with telling him what’s in your mind. You need not to worry about anything behind your father’s back, you know he will lean an ear on anything you want to say. Katana is a great listener after all. And maybe his wisdom can aid you through the hardship you are experiencing right now

• If you have a rebellious phase, this old man will definitely have a massive headache while he figuring out how to deal with that attitude of yours in a fair way. Children are already hard to understand, but you will probably make his horns grayer sooner than he’d like. How is he going to talk some senses into you when you’re puffing those feathers of yours out to appear bigger and loudly chittering or hissing at him? Not to mention if you decide to land on a high branch out of his reach. The sight is pretty funny in some way though, an old demon of a father just keeps looking up at an owlet hybrid as he doesn’t know what to do. That is a ‘what if’ only though, but just keeps in mind that he still loves you as always

• He definitely has to do his research carefully before officially takes you in under his wings. Katana does enjoy bird watching in his free time, but he can’t just compare you to those things. Questions are expected, as he wants to know all of your needs to make sure that you don’t have to put up an act to pretend that you’re fine with the new living conditions. In case even you don’t even know what to answer him because you too have no ideas, Katana doesn’t give up that easily. This man will quietly get around and ask anyone he deems that have enough experience with taking care of an avian then selectively choose what shall be the most suitable for you. He won’t tell you since that’s just how he is: Figuring things out on his own so that it won’t stress you out

• Clothings are definitely on that main list for him to think precisely given the wings and the few feathers on your body that just get in the way. Hate to break it to you, kiddo, but don’t expect this man to be able to sew a shirt without the need to intensely glare at the needle to put the thread through in the next three hours. He’s a fighter, not a professional homemaker or anything. One thing he will do, however, is to take you to a trustworthy yet inexpensive tailor in Thieves Den to design a few new outfits for you to wear comfortably. He knows he doesn’t have to do it since he can just cut the back of your shirt a little to make space for your wings, yet he just does anyway. Who is going to stop him? He knows what is the good price for something, no one needs to worry

• Some of your current behaviors are still heavily influenced by your owl’s instinct. From little things like being observant to just have an instinct to fly outside to hunt out of nowhere just because you’re bored. And those actions, which you may think are not that big of a deal, can definitely cause your father to freeze midway when he sees you

• When he first brings you back home, you almost give him a heart attack when you do that infamous yet iconic head turn that pretty sure if it’s not Katana in front of you, people might have called an exorcist to deal with you. Random knowledge, but do you know owls technically can’t turn their head a full 360 degrees motion but rather 270 degrees? Yeah, the same case applies to you. Whatever the degree, you certainly scared your guardian a lot of times before. Poor Katana literally drops his tea cup the moment you turn around looking at him directly into the eyes as you were just turning your back at him earlier when he calls your attention for something. Give him a few moments to get used to that stunt of yours, he’s old now

• One more things that Katana has to take a deep breath while mentally questioning his knowledge is when he sees you regurgitating pellets for the first time. Listen, demons don’t need to eat, remember that alright? And when the two of you want to have a treat all of a sudden, Katana will take you out to the vendors to get a snack or two. Basically most of everything he feeds you are digestive. But then that little birdbrain of yours just swallows if not anything you feel like it’ll be a good idea when it’s obvious that those things are barely edible. This man’s heart rate has done the lambada on a thread when he sees you gagging out pellets of said things out. He immediately takes you to see a doctor and then just facepalm when understand what happened. It doesn’t harm you though, but damn does it give him one hell of a shock

• You know the basics of how to fly, but it’s still clumsily done as you barely have anyone to tell you what to do properly. Flying is like second nature to you, an instinct that only you can understand. Katana doesn’t have that much of information on how should he help you in something only you have full knowing on how. Katana believes that it’s best you learn on your own, but he will also be there to encourage you. Don’t be afraid if you fall again after a short while of practice on flying around in long distance, your father will always be there to offer you a hand to get up on your feet again. Not all the times he will help you up, though he will be there no matter what to keep an eye on you carefully

• Preening is definitely the thing you have to inform him about. You can still do it on your own, but there are some places that you can’t help but groan as you struggle to reach to. You can keep your ego on top of your head if you want instead of asking Katana for help, but don’t be surprised when your wings feel so awful and heavy all of the sudden. Of course, Katana notices that clear change of demeanor in your expression. He knows that avians preen themselves as an act of taking care of themselves. This old man will lean you a hand when he knows you can’t deal with it yourself after numerous attempts. He does know a thing or two about it, but feel free to correct him on anything he does wrong, he appreciates it a lots. You’re his child after all, he doesn’t want to keep making mistakes which might accidentally hurt you

• Since you’re pretty much still an owlet in some sense and not fully developed your hybrid traits to adulthood, your napping schedule definitely amuses Katana. Owls usually get active at night, even though different owls come with different behaviors, but that’s usually the case. It’s not a surprise when you spend most of your time in the day sleeping whenever you feel like it and then proceed to cause havoc when the night falls. And since you’re technically an owlet, you have quite the obnoxious amount of nap time that just hits randomly. Katana isn’t too startled anymore when he sees you slowly drifting away to sleep for a few minutes before bounce back like nothing has ever happened. He’s used to your oddities by now

• The fact you even sleep face down on your stomach while turning your head to the side immediately when you want to sleep is something your guardian finds endearing. You look ridiculous in some ways in a lighthearted manner. Sometimes you even do it in the middle of anywhere you see fit at home but your room when you’re feeling comfortable enough. Picking you up when you’re sleeping the day away on the living room’s floor then bring you back into your bed — which funny enough, it’s literally a nest of pillows and blankets together that you make yourself — is somewhat a typical routine to Katana

• The ronin usually prefers to stay and relax at home if he has a choice. Although when you come into his life, he sometimes insists to take you out to go on a walk with him just so you two can bound together. Maybe a few idle chit chat to catch up on each other’s day or to talk about what has been troubling you. You don’t need to force yourself to have a conversation with him if you have nothing in your mind, he just wants to bring you out to have some fresh air. Walking around the forest can clear up one’s mind in peace after all. You can also fly around freely while Katana takes his time to follow you. Maybe he isn’t going to catch up given that it’s his moment of relaxation, but he still knows where are you, so don’t worry about loosing his track

• If you want to follow him around when he is going to travel, you have rely solely on your logical points to debate with him for quite a long period. In his eyes, you’re still his owlet. No matter how much you try to prove that you’re capable of fighting alongside with him, there is just no way that he will put out you in such unknown danger in which it can make him regret his decision forever. Please understand that he doesn’t baby you, Katana knows better than to spoil you too much, that’s just his way of nurturing you to be independent yet still staying right beside you whenever you need his aid. But you’re just too young. Hell, if you were older, then he might reconsider about this talk once that happened. Though for now, you’re not allowed to come with him. It’s for your own safety, and he makes sure that he explains it in details for you about the potential consequences of it

• Katana genuinely cares a lots about you and your well-being. If anything happens to you, he can’t bring himself to ever let his guilt rest. He has already lost enough, he doesn’t need to put you on that list of people who he values deeply yet has fallen down unfortunately without him able to do anything. You’re his child, his dear owlet, and it’s his responsibility as a father to protect you from the corruption itself. He can’t let his precious pride and joy be taken away by death’s hand. He knows your nature as an avian will urge you to give in to the temptation of exploring the sky. Katana supports that, he knows that soon you will mature and leave his embrace to go on your own journey. However, you are not ready for that future just yet, so it’s his duty to look out for you until you grow up

• That is to say, whenever he has one of those so-called business trip again, he makes sure to leave you with the Thieves Rest trio so that they can look after you with upmost care while he’s away. Although yes, they do bother him with useless deeds sometimes whenever they’re done with business at Crossroads and return to Thieves Den, but at least he knows they aren’t too bad. Especially Slingshot, who he tolerates the most out of the trio. Katana has to think throughly before makes that decision. As much as he’d like the idea of bringing you to Hyperlaser instead, he feels like the idea isn’t really the beat idea. At least with those three, they will know how to keep you entertained while also safe. He has to give them a throughout list of matters that concern you before leaving too, he can be strict when he needs to

• Remember Prince? Yeah, he’s your companion now. He is the first owl in this household that has been accompanied Katana for longer than you have ever been. Maybe at first you two will just stare at each other without blinking out of curiosity or something else, but then you will soon grow on Prince as he accepts you as not a threat. Owl’s minds that think alike, perhaps it’s the case for the two of you. Prince usually do Katana a favor by delivering hand-written messages back and forth to him, so there are more than just a few time when you see Prince appear absurdly without a warning to send you a letter from Katana while he is away. Or when he wants to call you back as he’s at home, Prince will just peak the heck out of your head to drag you to go home without a message

• You’re definitely mentioned in his stories to tell Hyperlaser about when the two old men go out for a drink together. If Hyperlaser can talk about his cat daughter that he loves with everything in this life, why wouldn’t Katana do the same with you, the child he holds dear in his patched cold heart? He is pretty much that type of father who will always keep the family photo with you and him — maybe Prince too — in his robe so that he can pull it out anytime to remind himself of how much he should keep going. Hyperlaser is pretty intrigued of this side of Katana. But even him is a cat dad, he has no intentions to judge the ronin for his fatherly love towards you. That’s something they both have in common unexpectedly after all

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Note: Sorry for delaying this request! But I’ve decided to take a break-then do these requests-then a break again so I can recharge myself properly ( ´ ▽ ` ) Thank you for all your patience !

Note 2: This is for those who have daddy issues in general (°▽°)

#phighting x reader #x reader #phighting!#katana x reader #katana phighting #phighting katana #shui mo’s black tea

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re-re-redline · 4 hours ago

Text

I am so glad you asked

What a Convo Between the Two Looks Like:

Rider: “……”

Saber: “………”

Rider: “……”

Saber: “………”

Rider: “Look, I’m so—“

Saber: “For the good of Rome, kill yourself.”

Rider: *Stunned silence.*

Rider: “…A-Alter. Just listen to me, I—!”

Saber: “Unnecessary. I already know and I don’t care.”

Rider: “………”

As you can see, Alter just cuts Constantine off anytime he speaks directly to him. He wants to hear nothing from him and is 99% sure he knows exactly what his creator is going to say next, and funnily enough? He’s actually right on the money most of the time.

Now, the contents of what he does say to Constantine vary depending on whose in the room with the two of them. He’s not going to say anything particularly inflammatory or cut deep with his insults if anyone else is around—Master especially—because he knows that someone’s going to jump to Constantine’s defense and that could start a fight. Hence he keeps it on the down low in public.

But in private? Oh, he’s not holding back. Alter constantly tells Constantine to off himself because, thanks to Alter now being here, Constantine is no longer needed in Chaldea.

Think about it. Alter is the ideal that Constantine made up of himself, he is THE BEST Constantine there is purely because of the fact that Micheal sees him that way (or saw due to Constantinople’s interference making it not so anymore.) So why would Master need someone like Constantine (Rider) when Constantine (Saber) now exists, hm? And if that’s not convincing then compare kits. Alter actually does damage and can survive way longer than Constantine can and ever will. And that’s all that matters to Master, right? Damage and survivability.

You see the picture I’m painting here? Alter constantly attacks Constantine’s insecurities when they both happen to be alone because he absolutely hates Constantine for giving Constantinople the material she needed to create him the way he is now.

And all poor Constantine can do is just stand there and take it because he knows Alter’s right about most of what he said. The one thing that Constantine will never ever concede to Alter is the fact that he is needed. Master NEEDS him and he knows that. His predecessors and the Holy Progenitor need him. His friends: Don Quixote & Sancho, both Vlads, Johanna, and so, so many more need him. He knows for a fact that there will be a Constantine shaped hole that cannot be filled if he were to end himself like Alter wants him to. And Micheal could never hurt the people he loves like that ever. …Unless he were giving his life for them, of course.

But yeah, Alter is not shy about showing his contempt. He just dials it down when other people are present to keep the peace. Though you can tell that he’s slowly getting angrier by the second when his sword starts emitting that ghastly cursed red aura from it. It starts off dim but gets to be an almost crackling and bright flame on his sword when he’s at his limit, it’s that apparent.

Thankfully for everyone, Alter doesn’t start on his own so the two can awkwardly sit in silence in a room together and nothing will happen. The two will just be sitting in envy of each other until one leaves.

Constantine is envious of Alter’s stoicism and ability to shake things off. He always tried to be that person when he was alive but just couldn’t hold himself together because of the immense pressure and stress he was under during those four years of his reign. He wanted to be the man his people deserved but could never truly fulfill that lofty standard he set for himself and that only led to his strong self loathing after death.

Alter is envious (as much as he can be) of Constantine’s ability to feel as well as his having memories of his family and friends in life. Alter wants to cry, to be afraid of dying and to feel weak or inadequate—he wants to feel all of the negative crap that Constantine loathes because that’s what completes a person. He also very much wants to feel joy and contentment like Constantine does. Maybe then when he finally gets his emotions back, he’ll understand why his chest tightens slightly every time he sees a family having fun. Maybe he’ll understand why he can’t bring himself to get new earrings, or why the person who gave them to him is so important to him. Maybe he’ll understand why he feels the ever so slight need to watch over Master like a hawk when they get sick. Maybe he’ll understand why…

See, the two of them envy what the other has not realizing that it actually sucks more than they think it does. They both simultaneously understand each other the most and the least out of everyone and it’s just… UGH! It’s both riveting and infuriating to watch these two interact for that reason. Ugh… These two need to reconcile so bad. You’d probably need to use a Command Spell to get Alter to not cut off Constantine mid-sentence and actually listen to him. You also would probably need to give Micheal a big pep talk so he can have the courage he needs to actually say what he’s really feeling. It’ll be messy but it is possible!

Endnote: I hope I answered your question! Alter’s pretty difficult to write dialogue wise because of how utterly dry he is, but that only adds to the tragedy of his existence. He could be more in that department but he just isn’t because he can’t be anything more. But you could definitely see on his face that the contempt runs so, so deep. Hence why he solely stabs at Micheal’s insecurities whenever they get to talk alone. A precise set of strikes that tells Constantine all he needs to know about what Alter thinks of him.

Alter would probably explode in anger—and yelling at the top of his lungs and grabbing Constantine by the collar and shaking him kind of anger—if they weren’t in Chaldea. The walls are thinner than they look and Alter, yet again doesn’t want to start anything with anyone else to keep the peace. That’s Alter at his most animated, otherwise he’ll be snarling and fuming at his creator. Shooting him dirty looks when he thinks no one’s looking and what not.

But that’s all I got for now. Thank you for your kind words and sharing your thoughts! I loved answering.

Have a good day, and I’ll be seeing you!

—Redline, over and out!

Constantine XI Alter (Saber)

>Spoilers for Constantine’s Interlude<

Foreword: This was supposed to be a sketch, I swear. But on another note, I am alive! Just slowly working up to writing after a few hectic weeks. But the train is moving, just very slowly which I imagine is nothing new. One thing I HAVE been getting up to is my painting of portraits of my blorbos for their birthdays. I suck at drawing anything festive, so I hope the quality of the piece makes up for it, hehe… I have Constantine’s done and I am extremely proud of it.

Buuut that’s in February, so let’s get into my explanation and thoughts on this hypothetical of my boi! Starting off with…why he looks like this.

(I would also like to note that I haven’t ran this through TTS yet so there probably is some grammatical errors and for that I will apologize in advance, I will iron them out soon.)

On the Subject of Appearance:

Alright, obvious and iconic Alter color palette aside, what’s up with the vast amounts of white? Because… Our guy wears black mostly in his first ascension and then dies it down in his second by adding a LOT of red, so it’d make sense his alternative would be set apart by having him wear and have the color white. Plus it illustrates just how DIFFERENT he is compared to Micheal, how opposite or perhaps…opposing he is. But more on that later. (Also I was planning on this being just a sketch so I wasn’t really thinking of coloring anything until his second ascension when I realized I would have to in order to communicate how different he is from Constantine and it kinda snowballed from there. Oops…)

Now…about the, uh, cracks on his skin. THAT is marble. Sections of Alter’s body are petrified marble with a few dry cracks in the skin. Why? Because of the legend circulating after his death of him being a marble statue. It’s like how Hans has mermaid scales and how Okita will forever have tuberculosis, Alter’s body along with several other things were affected by how people saw him. I’ll get into it more later.

But! There are some cool things, or not cool rather, to note about the marble patches on his body. Like how a lot of pain he’d feel is nullified by it thanks to lack of, y’know, nerves. This also goes for sensations in general as he wouldn’t know if you were tapping him on the shoulder or were pouring boiling water on that spot. So yeah, sections of his body cannot feel but can still move just fine. It doesn’t impede his movement at all! It just…cracks a lot.

If you ever see him stretch and pop his spine, you will not only hear the snapping of bones but also stone splitting. Don’t worry, it’ll fix itself so you don’t have to worry about him sustaining major damage from just moving around. It’ll just take some getting used to.

Now. You may have noticed that the marble patches grow more the further into his ascensions he is, to the point where his armor receives patches of marble on it too. Now this wouldn’t even be something to mention if not for the fact that I’d like to think that anything new he wears in his 2nd and 3rd ascension starts petrifying slowly over time. Not all the way but enough to the point where it gets to be a chore doing laundry.

But yeah, that’s all I got for his design so far. On to the next!

On The Subject of Class and Gameplay:

If you play JP or have Clairvoyance then you already know why its not the obvious choice. Because his legend mentions specifically that the angel who wakes him up will give him the sword he used on his final day. So it’d make sense that his class would change to Saber.

Now. In this hypothetical where I’m the one designing him as a unit. I’d imagine his gameplay to be like so:

2 Buster Cards with 5 hits, 2 Arts Cards with 4 hits, and 1 Quick card with 3 hits. Same card numbers but different hits.

His NP would be an Offensive Buster NP that does the following: Increase Buster Card Effectiveness for 3 Turns, Increase ATK for 1 Turn, Inflict Curse, Deal Major defense ignoring damage to one/all enemies, Restore HP by 2,000 (effect increases with Overcharge), Apply Resistance to Death by 5000% for 1 time (non-stackable) and Apply a stackable Guts for 5 turns that restores half of Constantine XI Alter (Saber)’s HP upon Death.

That is one hell of an NP that not only hits hard but also provides major survivability which is what Constantine is all about. Now, I could quite decide if he should be a Single Target or an AOE but I do imagine his gameplay to be your awesome clutch soloist unit for CQ’s, Advanced Quests or boss fights. Is this really cool hypothetical NP is a showing of my massive bias? …Maybe. But that’s not important, onto the skills!

Skill 1: The Ends Justify The Means (A) [Cooldown at LV.10 is 6 Turns]

Increase Buster Card Effectiveness for 3 Turns, Increase ATK for 3 turns for All Party Members and Apply Target Focus to All Party Members Excluding Constantine XI Alter (Saber) for 3 Turns.

Skill 2: Demise Privilege (Alternative) (C) [Cooldown at LV.10 is 7 Turns]

Increase NP Gauge for Self by 50%, Gain crit.stars per turn for 3 turns, Remove 2,000 HP from all Non-Roman Party Members and Restore HP by 3,000 to self, Apply Guts to self for 3 Turns.

Skill 3: Legend of The Marble Emperor (EX) [Cooldown at LV.10 is 6 Turns]

Apply a State Where Upon Hitting an Enemy, Inflict Curse (1,000 DMG) and Disastrous Curse for 3 Turns, Apply Special ATK to enemies with Curse.

As you can see, Alter is a very selfish DPS that drains HP from his non-Roman allies to keep himself alive along with inflicting curse stacks for damage over time. He’s be a nice pair up with Van Gogh for that last thing. And much like his NP, he really wants to live and it’s going to be difficult to kill him. So yes! Soloist in the form of a Saber.

Is his kit too cracked? …Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll let you all tell me what’s what.

On the Subject of Composition:

Constantine XI Alter is a Saber class servant comprised of three parts.

The first and the largest portion—the base, if you will—is Constantine’s ideal self, dreamed up during his final years of life in the late 1400s. As we are aware, Constantine utterly despises how weak he thinks he is. He hates the fact that he feels like he wants to breakdown and cry so much, he hates the fact that he’s terrified of dying, and most of all he hates that he isn’t strong enough to take the current crisis in stride like he believed his idols would have. Thus, Constantine saw his ideal self as a man who would not feel fear in times of crisis, would not cry when he was losing, and would not break under pressure. A truly stoic and strong leader that can handle any sort of disaster, that is to say: an emperor who wins and survives.

The second part that makes up this servant are the wishes of the people of Constantinople. After Constantine death, a rumor floated around that the emperor had not died. He was rescued by an angel at the brink of death and turned into a statue. He would then sleep in a hidden cave underneath the Golden Gate of Constantinople awaiting the call of an angel who would restore his form and give him the sword he used in the final battle. It was a lovely thing to hope for and believe in, thus that rumor turned into a legend backed by the hopes and dreams of the people. It is this that would have completed this variation of Constantine had it not been for…

The third and final part is less of a ‘part’ per se and more of a distortion of what already existed. A wild, vengeful anger and grief corrupted what would have been the lovely culmination of the ideal self of Constantine plus the people’s hopes and dreams and twisted it into a cold automaton hellbent on continuing the existence of Rome as he knew it no matter the cost. These intense negative emotions came from the one and only Constantinople herself. When our favorite emperor perished and the Ottomans took over, there was no one as throughly stricken by grief—if we ignore George and Constantine’s remaining family—as Constantinople. It was pure agony to watch her people be murdered, enslaved and violated for days with the subsequent rebuild and installation of new buildings hurting too. But the most painful thing of all was watching her subjects slowly disappear one by one: people she watched grow up and live life for centuries on end vanishing never to return until all that was left was a large group of strangers who now occupied that space. It was maddening to say the least. The result was a lot of time passing and the events of Constantine’s interlude (yes, I read a summary of it and it could not come sooner for me.) While Constantinople WAS forced into slumber through the battle, much like the emperor she is so deeply connected with, Constantinople made a final last ditch effort to have her and Constantine’s wish come true. Thus creation of an Alter of Constantine XI as well as a new singularity set shortly after the death of the real Constantine came to be.

On The Subject of Personality:

Alter is barely like the man we are familiar with, he would be practically unrecognizable if his face and voice were different. The most glaring difference is the lack of any expression on this man’s face. The muscles on his face only move for three reasons: he’s speaking, blinking, or the boiling rage underneath his skin has erupted upon the mention or appearance of the Ottomans. He just carries that same deadpan expression no matter what happens, good or bad. This is due to Constantine’s wishes to be a truly stoic man down to his core. Though, thanks to the distortion caused by Constantinople, most of his other emotions have been muted to make room for the, and I quote: “Boiling Rage™ that is 100% necessary and important to the restoration and maintenance of the Byzantine Empire. Yup, totally required. Why? Because screw you that’s why!”— Constantinople, circa Right Now. I jest, I jest. But really. Alter is either having tiny tinges of emotion flittering around in his skull sometimes—you know like the alleged to exist fruity taste of La Croix—or pure and absolute anger, no in between. Thankfully, for masters, the percentages of the anger is incredibly low unless for some odd reason you have Ottoman Turks that keep appearing left and right in your area.

Unlike our friend Micheal, or any sapient being really, Alter doesn’t really…have opinions. He’s just neutral about most things in the world and mostly shrugs at whatever he’s interacting with. Good weather? Okay. Great food? Okay. Amazing friends? Okay. The milk went bad and the store’s closed right now? Okay. You stepped on the corner of five different Lego blocks on your way to the bathroom? Okay. Your pillow is scorching hot and you can’t sleep? Okay. Several hundred people just died in utter agony? O—you get the point. I’m sure you know the one exception that Alter has, but allow me to provide you with one and we’ll get into another in the next section. The red earrings on his ears, cracked beyond belief yet still hanging just fine… Yes, Alter likes those. That’s why he hasn’t taken them off or removed them. Why? Well… He vaguely recalls someone important to him gifting him these. That man, after helping Constantine put his on, took out another similar pair and placed them on his own ears. He then said: “Now we match! Plus, I’ll be able to pick you out in even the most dense of crowds, my lord, as these earrings are one of a kind.”

(Yes, I headcanon that George gifted Constantine his iconic red earrings and has a matching blue pair for himself so that they both kinda match but hold their individuality all the same. A nice little thought that warms my heart.)

On The Subject of Speech:

The way this man talks is so dry and bland that one would think that Alter is bored out his skull by simply existing. His voice is so flat and borderline monotone, no effort to emphasize anything or even to make digesting the info easier. And to make matters perhaps worse he doesn’t talk much and tends to make what little he does say compact. It’s a flavorless way of communication that only changes when, you know, the Boiling Rage surfaces.

You know how in Constantine’s Bond Profile #1 it states that he “sometimes speaks more roughly in times of duress?” (Or “a more crude tone” if we’re reading the fan translation.) Yeah, well that’s no longer a sometimes. He still doesn’t talk much but man is he swearing and being rude as hell when he is pissed. The imperial decorum that our Micheal lives by has gone out of the window and will not be seen again until Alter calms down. No, he won’t apologize to anyone. Don’t bother, it’s a fruitless endeavor.

On the Subject of His Knowledge:

Alright, what does Alter know about himself? He knows that he was crafted by Constantine to be the ideal version of him. He knows about the legend surrounding his death and that being the reason for the petrification on his body. And he knows about Constantinople messing with his Spirit Origin and his current reason for existing and the objective that comes with it. …That’s it. That is all he knows.

Nothing about his personal life or his family or his best friend who had his back throughout it all, nothing. In its place are vague and fuzzy vignettes of familiar people he can’t put a name or face to that appear in his mind’s eye from time to time.

Now, as for his opinions on what he knows… Uh, I’ll just get the one with the least words on it out of the way first. The petrification thing? Yeah, he could not care less. The patches of marble on his body don’t limit his mobility any and yeah, the petrifying of his clothes is kind of annoying but it’s slow enough to where it’s not that big of a deal. It’s whatever.

Now. As for his creation—that being Constantinople messing with him and him being Constantine’s ideal self—he has a…not very good opinion on the two. And by that I mean he absolutely hates them.

He hates Constantinople for twisting his already good spirit origin into what it is now and placing within him an undying anger. He also hates her for basically using him as a tool to get what she wants all because the ‘real’ Constantine rejected her wishes, essentially using him as a replacement. Not good.

He hates Constantine for cursing him with the ridiculous traits of being stoic down to his core as well being the ‘perfect’ emperor for his people. Because of that, not only does he not FEEL anything at all but he also has this immense pressure in his very soul that he MUST have Rome survive at all costs and that he must solely devote himself to that cause with every fiber of his being. Yes, the severity of those traits were caused by Constantinople’s anger and grief distorting him but the base traits were all on Constantine.

Now, in Constantine’s defense (because I am a Constantine defender), he had no idea that this would happen let alone that an Alter of himself based on what he saw as his ideal self, the emperor his people deserved and would suit them best, even existed in the first place. It was a dream to him. A dream of a man who was much better than he was, doing way better than he is and winning all at once. That is all that Alter was to him then and what he was to Constantine before the singularity.

Endnote: Whew… That was a lot! But I think that was I’ve got on Alter. As you can see, I’d been doin’ a big think on him and he was a very fun character to design both artistically and in writing. I h Endnote:

Whew… That was a lot! But I think that was I’ve got on Alter. As you can see, I’d been doin’ a big think on him and he was a very fun character to design both artistically and in writing. I hope you don’t mind the crumminess in the piece, if you can even call it that. I wasn’t joking when I said it was supposed to be a sketch hence the noticeable climb in effort across the ascensions.

In other more exciting news… I have 10 followers! Ten whole people! That’s enough to get one of those long tables at the fancy restaurants with!

It’s quite the milestone, one I was not expecting. So, to celebrate, I’m going to bypass the order of things I WANTED to get through with before I did this sort of thing—since I didn’t think I’d get 10 followers, honestly. But, I will be dropping a poll sometime soon—before the day’s end Nope, way too sleepy right now.—of a few headcanons you guys can choose from for me to do next! And not JUST for Constantine, Mehmed, or Sannan—no, no. I will also be tacking on my two other blorbos that I have neglected to mention, them being Hajime-chan (my strongest Saber) and Izou (my strongest Assassin.) So it’ll be Multi-Core Headcanons (haha), five people in one list. And don’t you worry, it won’t be like, one paragraph long or anything half-assed. That shit will be long, like 4k minimum per person which would—if I strictly hang around that number—would be a 20k long HC list.

So case in point! It’ll be a celebration and I implore you to vote.

But yeah. That’s all for this post. I’ll also be posting something else shortly after that is NOT the poll but a nice occurrence for lil’ ol’ me. If you have questions, comments, a desire for elaboration or a keyboard smash of your thoughts, let me know! And I’d like to thank you all for indulging my delusions today and before today and I hope you all have a great day.

—Redline, over and out!

#i love how‚ apart from his np‚ alter’s survivability hinges on his allies taking the blows #it’s like odysseus’ skill‚ except more selfish #i wonder how he’d react to constantine in‚ say‚ his my room lines #would he plain out be snarling? hold nothing back and let constantine know of his contempt for him?#or would he temper himself? his poisonous words like an active volcano that constantly teases the point of eruption?#this is a really well-made and interesting alter btw!! :d #<-prev tags #kōnstantînos xi #constantine xi #constantine xi fgo #kōnstantînos xi fgo #Constantine XI alter #Kōnstantînos XI Alter #re-re-reblog

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