#I realized I hardly reread shit

[disappearinginq]

Tagged by

@brambleberrycottage

Soooo....I don’t actually reread a lot of things, which is dumb, because I have literally hundreds of books that I won’t donate even though I’ll probably never read them again, so this was actually kinda challenging. 

a book you want to reread: Dealing with Dragons by Patricia C Wrede because we were just discussing it and I need to see if memory serves that it would be fine for an 8-9 year old to read. Or the Gypsy Crown by Kate Forsyth because I just bought the rest of the series off Ebay because either it’s going out of print or it’s being edited to be re-released with ‘more appropriate language’ and I am vehemently against editing things to appeal to our “modern sense of morality” which is a separate issue that I’ll not get into here 

any books you reread every two to five years: This sounds terrible, but probably picture books, especially one called Wild by Emily Hughes. 

any books you reread once a year: The Betrayal of Renegade X by Chelsea Campbell. This series is super simplistic, but it reminds me a little of the reviews people leave about the Foxhole Court - it’s not that great, but you also can’t help but love it. It’s in a world where superheroes and supervillians both live in the same city, the vibe very similar to Sky High. I love Damien, the narrator, who gets his Renegade X name from the fact that his mom is a super villian and his dad a superhero. It reads like fanfic, which is the best compliment I can think of. 

the book you reread within the shortest turnaround time: A Darker Shade of Magic by VE Schwab because the first time was on audio book and the second time was reading the physical copy. 

the book you’ve reread the most times: Samanta Saves the Day or Felicity Saves the Day from the American Girl original series, because I forced my parents to read those to me every night for like a solid four years. Dad had it memorized at one point. He didn’t have to read it at all. 

tagging...anyone who wants to play, because I don’t know that I’ve talked to anyone else about reading books versus fanfic. 

[bookwyrminspiration]

unrelated. can't believe melves themselves aren't even on the kotlc heritage blog we've got to find those too. also tater mentioned elf piss the forbidden gatorade electric boogaloo??? which i VAGUELY remember but wasn't involved in???

The original post was reblogged there as of a couple days ago! And I tagged the melves blog in that, so people can go through it if they're so inclined. But other individual posts have not been added

I don't think I was involved int he electric boogaloo either--would that have anything to do with the food wars? Because I feel like it got mentioned during that time, but I didn't really participate so I can't be sure

[joelsmochi]

Dirty Lies

SUMMARY: Joel realized how much you matured since he last saw you 4 years ago and can’t resist you. WARNINGS: age gap [reader is 22, joel is 35], smut minors dni, no descriptions of reader aside from having shoulder length hair & having a girly sense of fashion, pervy!joel, shy-ish!joel, needy!joel, reader seduces joel. 18+ WARNINGS: infidelity if you squint (technicalities people), brief objectification, masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, reader was a lying little shit in high school but it paid off WC: 7.3k [please read author's note]

A/N: this was originally going to be a 15k word long smut as part of my LDR series, but........ I figured the more parts I can make out of it the more content I can produce, so here is part one of Us Against The World. Enjoy :) Edit: I’m rereading this and noticing a few typos, I apologize about those! Grammarly isn’t so helpful sometimes…

series masterlist | main masterlist

There you were in your blue tank top and yoga pants laying with your father’s dog in the middle of the front yard. You had just returned from New York a few days earlier from college, which your father amicably told Joel about over a few beers the week before.

Joel was expecting to see your 18-year-old self: long hair, sparkly eyeshadow, dressed in your late mother’s hand-me-downs from the 80s. But that was no longer you.

You dressed more modern and age-appropriate. Your hair was shorter, looked curlier, and you had highlights. Your eyebrows were thinner and your face was free from the loud makeup your teenage self was accustomed to. Joel would make jokes from time to time about how he believed you were just born with glitter all over your eyes.

Joel felt a little silly thinking you wouldn’t have changed. Who doesn’t make a drastic change when they leave high school? He hadn’t found the time to stop by and say hello but he wasn’t necessarily rushing it.

He’d met your father when you guys moved in next door in 1993 and he remembered you introduced yourself the second you saw him and Sarah playing outside despite your father’s protests.

You told Joel about how your dad was only being grumpy because he’d just turned thirty-six. Something about getting old. You didn’t bother to retain that information.

But here you were: all grown up. It reminded Joel of the day he overheard you and your best friend talking about how handsome you thought he was. He wondered if you still felt that way.

You sat up, feeling the sense that someone was watching you; your eyes scanned around until instinct made you look to the same window Joel was standing in.

For some reason, he didn’t feel embarrassed about being caught staring. He offered you an energetic smile and you took in his appearance.

He hadn’t changed much — his hair was a little longer and he had a few more fine lines across his face, but he was still the handsome man you remembered and admired.

You stand up and walk over to the window prompting him to open it.

“Hey, creep,” you teased with a big grin, “how ya been?”

Even your voice sounded different with its blend of Texas and New York. It was sultry with a hint of confidence. He tried not to let his weaknesses show.

“I’m doing all right… Sorry for starin’. Could hardly tell that was you,” he responded.

You just barely saw his eyes glance down to your chest, and it made you smirk.

Had this been any other man you’d have your fist meeting their jaw, but it wasn’t any other man. It was Joel. You hadn’t forgotten that he was attractive, but you did forget just how attractive. Or maybe his sexiness came with his age.

Not like it mattered anyways. It wasn’t like you could make a move.

“I been gettin’ that a lot… Dad tells me you’re a contractor now with Tommy.”

Joel nodded and said, “Yep, hated workin’ for other people, so…”

You were unsure if you were being awkward or if it was just… Awkward.

“Cool. Yeah, no, I get that. How is Tommy, by the way? Is he still really cute?” You giggled.

This made Joel roll his eyes. “Not cuter than me,” he answered begrudgingly. You watched how his eyes faltered again, trailing from your lips to your belly ring. “Your dad let you get that?”

You scoffed and waved your hand lazily as if you were swatting his condescending tone away. “One, Dad can’t tell me what to do with my body. And two, Tommy was always the cuter one.”

“S’that so?” Joel grunted as if he were tempted to laugh.

You gave him a cunning look and nodded. “Yeah. But you were always more handsome.”

Joel found himself blushing at the compliment, trying to wipe the redness away with his calloused palm to no avail.

You let out a quiet teetering laugh and looked back to make sure your dog was okay for a moment. “He get that dog after I left?”

Joel focused on you again and confirmed it once he noticed the dog again. “Yeah. I think your dad likes having something to take care of.”

You looked back into Joel’s eyes and bathed in them for a moment. He seemed more like himself, more certain of who he was. It made you a little sad to know how much time has passed, but maybe it was better this way.

“He was always like that. I think it started after… Well, you know.” You took a deep breath and tried to change the subject. “How’s Sarah? She still my little rockstar?”

“She’s more of a pop star, now,” he said. “She still wears that bracelet you let her have, the… The silver one.”

Your chest swelled with joy and you couldn’t contain your excitement. “Really?! Aw, man, that’s so cool. I remember I would throw a fit if I didn’t have that damn thing on.” The dog barking grabbed your attention once again. He was just barking at the mailman but settled once the worker started petting him. “Sorry!” You shouted before returning your focus to Joel. “Well, Joel it was nice seeing you. We should… Catch up. I could use some… Life advice.”

“I’m free tomorrow night if that works?” He tried to contain his excitement.

You slowly backed away, giving him one more nod and smile. “Perfect. Just come over whenever like old times.”

Joel decided to be respectful enough to not ogle over your ass as you walked away. He turned away from the window wondering how the hell he was going to get over this… Crush?

Is that what this was? A crush?

He decided to not torture himself with his intrusive thoughts.

“Hey, kid,” Joel greeted. You rolled your eyes at the nickname but greeted him back. He entered the backyard slowly trying to get a feel for the mood. He sat next to you in the extra papasan chair and snatched your beer out of your hands. You glared at him, unable to hold it for long when he shot you that infamous smile. “Everything all right?”

He tasted your strawberry chapstick around the rim of the glass and let the taste linger on his tongue. His eyes fell to your lips as he thought about how the chapstick would taste coming straight from you. Raw and unfiltered.

You held your breath, wishing you had enough courage to ask your father these questions. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust your father, you just wanted an opinion from an outside perspective. You were hoping Joel wasn’t as inclined to protect or embarrass you as much as your dad.

“There’s this guy I’ve been dating for a few months now… I…” You sigh frustratedly with the tension surrounding the question meanwhile Joel grew tense and jealous? He asked himself why that was the way he felt about you having a boyfriend.

You apprehensively said, “We had sex a few times before I left and it wasn’t…good.”

“Okay?” Joel asked as a way to tell you to keep going.

“How should I go about telling a guy that?”

He cleared his throat uncertain of how to answer your question. He didn’t want his newly discovered feelings to cloud his judgment as the chances of you two becoming a thing were slim to none. He wouldn’t want to sabotage you or your relationships. Especially when you trusted him enough to ask such a burdening question.

Joel accepted the awkwardness of the topic and put it aside. He didn’t want you to feel embarrassed. “Well, have you tried suggesting things that he can do to make you—it feel good?” He asked.

“Yeah, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s me,” you admitted.

“Does he do the things you ask him to?”

“Kinda?” Your cheeks flushed and your eyebrows furrowed tightly.

He gave you a look that said come on now.

“He like… Does half of it?” You could just die of embarrassment right now.

“Wh—? How does he do half of it?”

You groaned obnoxiously and chugged some more beer. “I don’t know?! He does what I ask for like five minutes and then just does what he’s used to I guess.” He watched you poke your bottom lip out to pout as you stared into the glass bottle. “I really like him, Joel.”

“Does he like you?”

“Well, yeah,” you said as if it were obvious. “Fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He inhaled sharply through his teeth and stole your beer bottle again. “All I will say is that a man that truly likes you would try harder, especially during sex, and especially if you’ve told him how he could make you feel good.”

“So… What do I do?”

“Do you think he likes you?” He asked again. “Think about it for a second. What does he do for you?”

“Well, he…” Your voice trailed off into silence as your mind went blank. Surely this guy did something for you to make you like him, right? But anything that did happen to come to mind was the bare minimum. You didn’t want to give Joel the satisfaction, so you said, “I think it could work.”

“Who’re trying to convince? Me or yourself?” He saw the frustration on your face and propped a finger below your chin to make you look at him. “If a guy really likes you, sweetheart, you wouldn’t have to ask more than once,” was all he said after he took a sip of your beer.

“What do you mean?”

Joel’s sigh almost sounded irritated. “I mean… A guy that truly likes you and deserves you won’t make you suffer through sex. A real man’ll take care a’you.”

“A real man, huh?” You bantered.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Like you?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Do you like me?”

Why the fuck did I ask him that?! You thought as soon as the words left your mouth.

Joel didn’t couldn’t answer right away. His voice just stumbled over his tongue and out of his mouth.

“I think you’re a sweet girl,” he finally said, “and you’re smart enough to know who’s worthy of your time and attention. Doesn’t sound like it’s him.”

You couldn’t defeat the growing smirk on your face as he fought the urge to look over your body. He wasn’t so good at hiding it.

You turned your body in the chair slightly and dauntingly lifted your leg to touch your bare toes against his calf. You watched his breath get caught in his throat and your mouth fell open in awe at how easy it was to get him riled up.

He looked at the ground, not moving a single inch of his body. He was overwhelmed by your confidence.

The amount of attention Joel’s given you in the last ten minutes already seemed to surpass the attention your “boyfriend” (can you even call him that?) had given you.

Your foot trailed up Joel’s leg before you rested it upon his knee; Joel’s eyes screwed shut as if he were praying to not get caught like this, but your voice brought his gaze back to you.

“You didn’t answer my question, Joel,” you whispered seductively. Your foot left his leg and you got on your knees in the chair, then you leaned forward, hands around the rim of his own seat, and leaned in devilishly close to his face. “Do you like me?”

He swallowed hard, his fingertips turning white as they pressed into the bottle.

His lack of an answer caused an impatience to grow inside you. You leaned in even closer and strengthened your eye contact with him. Your fingers absentmindedly trailed over his knee to the midpoint of his clad thigh.

His spine shivered and his arms grew goosebumps. “Why don’t you have this attitude with your boyfriend?” He asked lowly in a poor attempt to further evade answering you.

You snickered and looked over his beer-covered lips, craving to taste them. “If I’m being honest he’s technically not my boyfriend… You’re tellin’ me things about men and how they should act. It’s making me feel like… He just can’t handle me.”

He smirked at you, fighting the way his body pleaded to touch yours. “If that’s the case then, sweetheart, I don’t think he’s the one for you.”

“Oh?” You got even closer, your nose touched his and you heard him choke on his breath. “Do you think you could handle me?”

He chuckled rashly and straightened his posture, now sensing you tense up. “I could,” he confidently confessed. “But this ain’t right, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you scoff, “you can’t keep your eyes off of me.”

“If you keep actin’ like a spoiled brat you won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you retorted, a cocky essence in your eyes.

“That so?”

“Maybe you can show me how a real man should be taking care of me.”

Joel had to stop himself from speaking as it would have potentially led to consequences. His flustered cheeks and wide lustful eyes created a hunger you’d never felt before.

However, you wanted Joel to earn it. Push him to the point of begging for just a taste of you. You needed to know if he craved you. Something you longed for from other men that just could not deliver.

You hovered your agape lips over his so dangerously it tickled his nerves. You gave him a soft kiss on the cheek then sat back in your original position.

Joel was both relieved and disappointed with the kiss. Relieved it didn’t end up with his head buried between your thighs, and at the same time disappointed that it didn’t.

For the next few days, you settled into your room as best as you could and got everything how you wanted it to be. Well, almost. You wanted a shelf to go over your closet so that you could display your most prized possessions.

When the idea sparked in your head you remembered that your dad said he was going to be gone for most of the day. You figured you could hold off for one more day. That was until you heard some power tools and heavy grunting from beyond your window.

Joel.

Joel had followed your lead as best as he could and you had to admit that the lack of physical contact was making it harder to resist him.

You felt a bit strange, however. After all, this is Joel. Sweet, caring, next-door neighbor Joel. You and your friends had a crush on him and his brother, Tommy, sure, but this wasn’t that. And you surely weren’t a child anymore. But still, you couldn’t help but think of how strange the dynamic is.

It wasn’t enough to stop you from taking your sweatpants off and changing out of your t-shirt into a stretchy tank top. You poked your head out of your window and shouted Joel’s name a few times until you successfully got his attention.

“Hey!” You said with a proud smile.

“Hey, kid!” He shouted back.

“Can you build a shelf for me? I wanted to get my room done today, but my old man’s gone!”

“Right now?” He tried to seem indifferent.

You just smiled harder and motioned for him to come over. “Please?!”

He huffed and looked at his half-done project, ultimately deciding to help you instead. The sooner he helps you the sooner he could create distance, he figured. Though deep down he knew that wasn’t the real reason.

You patter downstairs to unlock the door for him. He could see from the corners of his eyes that you were half naked, only in white panties and your top.

“Couldn’t a’put pants on?” He asked grumpily as he walked past you, not giving you the satisfaction of staring. You shut and lock the door before guiding him upstairs.

“Yeah, but I figured since you were doing the job for free I could at least give you something to look at,” you flirted. He didn’t even bother trying to stop you.

“What d’ya need done exactly?” He asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“I want those shelves to hang over my closet right… Here. I have a power drill here already, I just couldn’t figure out how to get it.”

He was doing a decent job at keeping his eyes anywhere but on your body, but in his mind he had already taken your clothes off and fucked you against the wall.

“S’alright, I can get it for ya,” he said while giving you an earnest look.

“What?” You asked after a moment of silence.

“Nothing,” he answered with a shrug and a smirk. You lightly smack his arm and plop down on your bed.

You lay on your stomach and flipped through a fashion magazine, occasionally smelling some of the perfume samples. You snuck glances at Joel’s broad back as he made sure everything could be lined up, smiling to yourself at how efficiently he worked.

“How’s your boyfriend?” Joel randomly asked after about ten minutes. You looked at him through your eyelashes as he peaked over his shoulder. 

You stifled your laugh and began looking at the magazine again before answering him. “He actually ended things with me two days ago. But like I said, he technically wasn’t my boyfriend. He never asked.”

“Oh… You doing okay? Seemed like you really liked him.”

“I like someone else more,” was all you said. Joel took a second, then just nodded even though you weren’t looking at him anymore.

“This someone have a name?” He asked after a few more moments of silence.

Joel’s internal conflict was teetering between giving in and giving up. He wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to you, but that’s what fueled his filthy thoughts even more.

“Yep, he sure does.”

Your tone was the exact opposite of what you were feeling. You felt hot and desperate, but you (almost) fooled him by sounding bored. He didn’t want to give into your childish game of beating around the bush, so he kept his mouth shut and began hammering a nail into the wall.

Suddenly you had an idea. An awfully sinister one.

You tossed the magazine on your nightstand and sat up in the bed, leaning into a few pillows and angling yourself so that Joel could get the perfect view if he dared to look.

Your hands traced uneven lines and patterns over your clad breasts and you gasped softly at your nipples perking up quickly. He couldn’t hear you over his hammering.

You rid yourself of your wet panties, kicking them to the edge of the bed. You spread your legs and began working big and slow circles over your sensitive clit. You used your free hand to pinch your nipple over your shirt, the combination of stimuli making you give a more audible moan.

Joel didn’t think much of it at first — he figured you were moving around on the bed to get more comfortable. So when the next moan came and he stopped his work to look at you he was taken aback, to say the least.

He said your name, but you shook your head in protest. “Is this okay?” You asked, innocence spreading across your face.

He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe.

“Joel?” You snapped him out of his daze. “S’this okay?”

He nodded and watched your trembling hands dip down into your glistening slit, collecting your wetness and coating it over your clit. Your body was stiff with anticipation, watching him watch you.

He took in all of your beauty like the way your eyes fluttered halfway shut and how you bit your plump lip to quiet your mewls. One hand cupped your breast so gently and the other rubbing steady, taunting circles over your sensitive bud. He watched the way you pleased yourself and let this picture of you engrave itself into his memory.

One day, Joel thought, I’d be able to make her feel as good as she makes herself feel.

He ignored the hardening of his cock pressing against his jeans, not caring enough to touch himself if it meant he didn’t get to feel you. He found the situation quite sexy and the lack of physical contact made him feel good.

You were showing him that he didn’t need to touch you or talk to you. He didn’t need to do a damn thing. All he needed to do was stand there and let you look at him.

Your moans were quiet and soft, barely heard by him. You squeezed your nipple harshly and jolted at the shock of electricity it sent throughout your body, your eyes screwing shut and your legs curling up into an almost fetal position at the feeling.

He saw you swallow the lump in your throat as you looked into his eyes again, soon scanning over his body and imagining how he would feel on top of you. The imagination was more than enough to get you going.

You imagined he felt strong and heavy above you, trapping you with his burly arms and using his lean thighs to keep your legs open for him as he rolled his hips to meet yours.

You absentmindedly curled your middle and ring finger into your creamy pussy, chasing after the feeling of being stretched out by Joel. Your pussy effortlessly squelched as your discharge poured out of you like a waterfall, coating your plump ass cheeks in your juices.

You got a bit louder but remained mindful of the open windows just a few feet away. You watched the movement in his jeans from his cock that twitched, longing for just some fucking relief. But he didn’t move, he didn’t even adjust his pants. He wanted you to know that you were the one in charge and that he was willing to suffer just for you.

“Joel,” you breathed out in between helpless murmurs.

He almost caved at how sweetly you said his name like you were asking for help. You reached even further into your sex, pressing into your sweet spot carefully. You pretended it was him.

Allowing your eyes to shut and your mouth to open, your mind dove deeper into the fantasies of Joel. You imagined him fucking you slowly, steady enough to not make your bed squeak too loud. Your fingers followed your mind, bumping against your g-spot the same way you wanted him to: carefully, yet forceful.

Joel felt awkward just standing there watching you, but you looked so beautiful. Sprawled out just for him with your fingers dipping into your sopping cunt as if you were made just for him. He saw your shoulders twitch and a hiss escaped your lips.

A ripple of ecstasy shocked your nerves, your walls tighten around your fingers, and your clit tensed up with a tickling sensation.

Your face twisted from the overwhelming feeling that began to encapsulate you from your core to your mind. Your moans became shallow and louder. Your clit throbbing beneath your palm motivated your to work your fingers faster. You fucked yourself with more desire than you had before, still twisting your perky nipple between your other fingers.

You were a lot more gentle with yourself than Joel would have expected. You took your time, didn’t overwhelm yourself.

He knew he loved it when the ever-growing pressure inside of you burst into a million flames throughout your trembling body. He saw that the slower you were with yourself the more intense the orgasm was.

He accidentally groaned at the sight of you: clinging to your bedsheet with the very hand that toyed with your breast, eyes refusing to open from the immense pleasure soaring through your veins, curling up into a ball because your body couldn’t comprehend just how good you were feeling.

He noticed how your cum gushed around and below your fingers creating a wet spot on your blanket. He carefully watched as you opened your eyes, still slowly fingering yourself. You continued to feel your orgasm, exploring how much of it you could endure.

You moved your free hand to your clit and rubbed tiny and fast circles around it. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you refused to moan anything but his name.

You shoved your fingers deep inside of you to press against your g-spot relentlessly. Your toes curled at the mix of pleasure.

You knew your orgasm was coming back more powerful than before already, and you braced yourself when your walls flexed against your fingers basically forcing them out; you chewed hard on your lip and laid your stiff fingers flat against your clit to rub from side to side at the arrival of your squirt. You squealed behind your swollen lip and let your squirt splash everywhere.

Joel palmed his rock-hard cock for some relief as he watched in awe at how you came for him. You looked so fucking delicious soaking yourself in your juices. His heart punched against his chest and his mind nearly blank, only filled with you.

Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape as you eased up on your clit. You let out sweet hums of bliss and you opened your eyes again, carefully analyzing his body language.

He practically reeked of inferiority. He was your marionette, your toy, whatever you wanted him to be. He didn’t recognize you in the best way possible. You were an unwrapped present that he couldn’t wait to open and play with. Your confidence grew at his puppy eyes that were low and dark, filled with a need to serve you.

Your fingers collected some of the creamy nectar between your folds before you brought it to your mouth and darted your wet tongue out to taste it.

You never broke eye contact once, observing how his body shuddered at the filthy action. His breath was heavy, his chest heaved in anticipation. You stuck your fingers inside of your mouth moaning at the salty goodness coating every single taste bud.

It wasn’t until your fingers dropped back down to your side and you gave him a shit-eating grin that he finally looked away, sighing loudly.

He felt ashamed of himself.

He’d known you since you were a child.

How could he ever look you in the eye again?

How could he ever look your father in the eye again?

You slipped your panties on again while he wasn’t looking and just grabbed your magazine, flipping through the pages again like nothing ever happened though the wet spot on your bed clearly said otherwise.

When Joel saw you had returned to your previous activities he did the same. Drilling and hammering your shelves onto the wall like nothing fucking happened.

“Here you go sir, you have a lovely day,” you chirped at the customer as you handed him his food waiting until he left. You turned around to straighten up the counter behind you when the bell on the door jingled. “Hello, give me just one moment and I’ll be with you!”

You gave the counter a lazy wipe with the wet washcloth before tossing it into the sink nearby and turning around, being met with a smirking Joel.

“My, my, you working at a burger joint? Never thought I’d see the day,” he teased.

You made a face and told him to shut up. You tried not to notice the sheer layer of sweat that coated his partially exposed chest. “What can I get you, sir?”

His face contorted with arrogance and he placed a hand over his chest. “Sir? You callin’ me sir now? Oh, you are just too cute.”

With a roll of your eyes, you huffed out a stream of air, waiting for him to stop fucking with you.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, dropping the act. “Can I get a burger and some fries?”

“You don’t want a drink?” You asked before writing his order down quickly and sliding it through the kitchen window.

“Are you tryin’a make me tip you more?”

You shrugged. “Nah, it’s just that the cola here is really good.”

“Mmm,” he hummed as if he didn’t believe you.

“If you want a cola I’ll make it extra cold for you,” you whispered as if you were telling him a dirty secret.

“Mhm, okay. Fine, I’ll take your word for it. Gon’ and get it f’me then.”

“You can ask that a little nicer,” you scoffed. You walked off, breathing in a gust of smoke on your way to the soda machine. “F’here or to-go?!” You shouted.

“Mm, I was gonna get it to go, but I think I’ll stay and keep you company.”

You could just hear the smile in his voice.

“Awe, how thoughtful of you,” you bantered before rinsing out a clean cup and filling it with ice. The cook called out the order was ready and you thanked him before finishing up with Joel’s drink. You grabbed the tray and walked over to the end of the counter where the stools sat, setting the food in front of Joel with a weak smile.

He watched you closely as you leaned onto your elbows waiting for him to try his food.

“What r’ya doing workin’ in a restaurant? Didn’t you graduate for like… Fashion or some shit?” Joel asked, unable to keep his smile down at how pretty you looked in your uniform: a teal skirt and a mustard yellow shirt, but so, so tacky. You hated the fucking outfit, it was everything you would never wear, but Joel thought you made it look good.

“I did,” you confirmed, “but I wanted a humbling job before I truly entered the world of fashion.”

Joel’s thick and somewhat dirty fingers unraveled his greasy burger after he dumped the fries out chaotically. He took an unnecessarily big bite, not seeing how your eyes watched the trail of juice trickle down the corner of his mouth to his chin before he swept it set with his thumb.

“Humbling, hmm?” He questioned before swallowing his barely chewed bite. “You’re a wise girl, you know?”

“So I’ve been told,” you smugly replied. You stole a fry off of his tray and smiled at his frowning face while eating it before washing it down with his fizzling soda. “Best drink that ‘fore it goes flat.”

You walked away momentarily to help a customer that just walked in; she only wanted a dollar milkshake so you told her not to worry about paying. You took a dollar and some change from your tip pocket and put it in the register before grabbing a styrofoam cup and packing her cup.

Joel noticed halfway through you making the shake that whenever you tapped the bottom of the cup against the counter your breast jiggled against your arm. He felt the lady nearby staring at him so he turned his head just enough to see the mix of disgust and concern on her face.

If only she knew how filthy you were for him just last week…

He didn’t care enough to stop though, he just went back to looking at how your clothes hugged your body.

You finished up her shake and popped a lid on it before grabbing a straw and walking back to give it to her.

Joel heard the lady ask if you were okay, and he promptly rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and tried his best to not laugh. You were confused by her question, simply nodding your head and saying, “Yeah?”

She looked at Joel once more, choosing not to say another word before leaving.

“Fuck was that about?” You asked, watching her walk away.

“She saw me starin’ at your tits,” he said between obnoxious bites. “If only she saw—“

Your eyes widened. “Do not finish that sentence.”

“Whatever you say, doll,” he teased before taking another bite.

You pretended to be grossed out by seeing the chewed-up food in his mouth as he spoke, swatting his hand gently. “You’re so gross.”

“You love me,” he quipped with a simper. He took a sip of his drink, humming at how refreshing it felt. “This is good,” he told you.

“Told ya.”

“What time are you out?”

You looked at the door when your manager came in, apologizing for taking longer than she expected.

“You’re fine, it’s a slow day,” you told her as she walked to her office. You looked at Joel and slammed your book and pen on the counter near the register. “I’m out now. Why?”

“Your dad asked me to pick you up.”

You felt a rush of worry. “Why? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, honey, everything’s fine. He forgot about pickin’ you up today and got drunk with his buddies and called me—well, he called Tommy. Said he wouldn’t be back home ‘til tomorrow.”

You raised an eyebrow at the mention of his brother’s name. “Oh? Well, why isn’t Tommy here?” You strutted around the counter and stood next to Joel as he inhaled the last of his food.

“Think you know why,” he grunted.

Anxiety pang inside of your chest, but you convinced yourself it was excitement. You were hoping that he wanted to get you alone somewhere and fuck you into the next week.

But you didn’t want to seem desperate. You kept a straight face, waiting for your boss to come back out before getting your things and punching out.

You followed Joel to his Chevy and thanked him when he opened the door for you. He huffed when by the time he got inside the car himself you were already flipping through his book of CDs.

“I got a good one in already—“

“Is it The Writing’s On the Wall by Destiny’s Child?” You interrupted after you found said CD.

“No, b—“

“Then it’s not what I want to listen to.”

Joel endured your (arguably bad) singing for the ten-minute ride back to your house. He thought about a few things in that ten minutes:

-Sarah wasn’t home, so he didn’t need to worry about food (or getting caught), so this time was optimal to make a move on you.

-If he were to make a move on you, then you two wouldn’t get caught.

-If he were to make a move on you, how exactly would he do it?

Once he arrived in his driveway, you both stepped out of the car and he walked over to your side.

“You not working tonight?” You asked.

“No, we finished early.”

You looked at him with lush eyes and bit the inside of your mouth, a flirty smile coaxing your lips. He looked hopeful for something, anything.

“I was just gonna watch TV all night,” you started, “and maybe make some dinner. I know you just ate, but you and Sarah are welcome to come over.”

“Sarah’s at a friend’s tonight, doing some studying,” he answered. His voice trailed off as if he weren’t finished speaking his thought aloud, but you picked up where he reluctantly left off.

“Do you want to come over, then? Just you?”

He looked around the quiet neighborhood as if he had to think about what he wanted. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

You lead him to your house, kicking your shoes off at the door and he followed. He felt unsure of his decision. He wondered if this night would play out platonically and just be filled with conversation and dinner, or if this was truly the beginning of a secret he’d have to keep forever.

“Spaghetti okay?” You asked him once you both entered the kitchen, decorated with oranges and reds, and yellows, reminiscent of your late mother. You tossed your half apron on the island before making your way to the refrigerator.

You heard his feet patter on the linoleum quickly but before you could turn around on your own Joel did it, pinning your back against the refrigerator and knocking down some of the bottles inside of it.

You gasped when his fingers peacock over the outsides of your thighs, gripping at the hem as a means to pace himself.

His eyes were bright yet lustful as his proximity alone sucked the air out of your lungs. Your chests heaving against each other’s created the only other physical contact you had with him.

He then dropped to his knees before you got the chance to speak; his calloused hands rose beneath your skirt, hiking it up enough for him to pull your wet panties down to your ankles. You stepped out of them for him and he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder before meeting his mouth to your clit tongue first.

You moaned at how he just dove into it, not bothering with kissing or easing you into it. Your digits laced through his messy curls while his tongue coated itself in your juices.

His tongue did crazy laps around your clit and he smacked a couple of firm kisses in between his licks. You tried to watch his work but your stupid fucking skirt was in the way. You settled, however when his eyes opened, the only visible part of him from your view.

You tasted so good to him, he tasted your day of work mixed in with your salty precum and he couldn’t get enough of it. He moaned when you tugged at his hair, burying his face as deep as he could and closing his eyes.

You let out a stream of obscenities while using your calf to push into his back, afraid that if you didn’t hold on tight enough he’d vanish.

He wrote out his full name over your clit like he was casting a spell that anything you or someone else touched you there you would only think about him.

You were amazed at how good he was eating you out — you didn’t think he’d be bad. You just didn’t know it could feel this good. It was like you felt him touching and kissing and licking all over your body, swimming in an endless pool of dissolution.

His touch was decadent through remembering how careful you were with yourself. He wanted to cater to you and to make you feel as good as you made yourself. And on top of that, he just really wanted to eat your pussy.

Savor it.

Taste it.

Drink you until you fucking ran dry and begged him to stop.

Nothing could have torn his lips away from your pussy. Hell, someone could have walked in and he’d still keep going.

“Joel,” you gasped, throwing your head back and grinding on his face.

He loudly moaned, tightening his grip around your thighs and wagging his head furiously from side to side to provide more stimulation.

Your hips bucked into his face roughly and you screeched, pulling even tighter on his hair.

“Joel, oh—fu-fuck!”

He smirked and pulled at the skirt to unveil his eyes again. His dick angered in his jeans, but he ignored it. He’d much rather focus on the way you writhed from his touch. Your panting growing heavier fueled his already intense movements. He began to suck while still shaking his head earning another screech from you.

You never felt out of control with how loud you were before. Every motion sent a million shockwaves throughout your body. You always did a good job at keeping quiet enough so that the neighbors wouldn’t hear, but fucking hell was Joel the one to break that evergreen streak.

You felt his hot breath collide with the fluids coating your sex and his nails leave indents on your flesh.

His tongue darted out to collect a stream of your cum, but his nose butted against your clit as he continued shaking his head making your hips buck once more. Then he realized… He got to stimulate your sensitive bud and lick between your folds.

He loved it.

Your moans became more distressed and uneven; he felt you chasing that high. He wanted you to cum so fucking badly. To let all of your pent-up cum pour over him.

You held the back of his head gently and he angled it just right enough for you to ride his face.

“Use my fucking face,” he moaned loud enough between your legs for you to hear. “Use my fucking face to cum.”

Your body gave in finally at his hoarse voice; your hops sped up, still using his nose and lips to overstimulate yourself. The orgasm was forceful, your moans strident.

Joel felt a pool of your cum leak out and drip down his chin onto his neck. He watched you crumble and curl into him and he was attentive enough to hold you steady while your balance dissipated.

Your head was dizzy and your vision blurred. You slowly halted your movements and just stood there being held by him while he placed light, but loving kisses along your dripping cunt.

He finally pulled his face out from underneath your skirt and carefully put your leg down before standing. He tucked some loose hairs back or behind your ears, then caressed your cheek and gave you a peck.

You wiped some of your cum off of his wet chin with your thumb and held it up to his mouth which he gladly sucked on. He grinned at you afterward and fixed your skirt for you.

The silence was soothing because frankly, neither of you knew what to say. It left you speechless, but that could just be the aftereffect of your climax.

The night was beginning to close in sooner than either of you wanted it to. You two just talked, truly catching up on the past four years. He was a lot funnier than you remembered, your cheeks were aching from how much he was making you laugh.

"You are a real gentleman, Joel Miller. What can I say? Dinner and an orgasm?!"

He lifted you up from your spot on the couch and pulled you into his lap so that you were straddling him. "I don't have to be," he murmured against your lips. His fingers flexed into your feverish skin, holding you upright and close by. He chased you with his lips until you finally let him kiss you. "Be honest with me... Did you really think I was handsome in high school?"

Your face grew warm and you hid behind your hands in embarrassment. "Oh, my God."

"Why are you actin' all shy now?"

"Because you weren’t supposed to know about that."

"Know about what exactly?"

You crossed your arms, deciding to let him win this time. "You want details?"

He smirked and leaned back to get more comfortable.

"Well... I used to lie and tell my friends that we fucked," you admitted.

"Really?" Despite his surprise the smirk never left his face. If anything it grew wider.

You sheepishly nodded. "I used to tell them how good you were. Everything you would do to me."

"What would I do to you?" His cock was already throbbing against his jeans, and just like every other time, he ignored it.

"You would fuck me up against the wall," you explained. "Sometimes, you would bend me over the edge of the bed and spank me for being naughty. Or just 'cause you felt like it. I'd even tell them about how you played with my ass so gently because you didn't want to hurt me."

Every word went straight to his dick, making it jerk and prod your thigh.

"Maybe I do need to bend you over and spank you for all that lyin' you were doin'. Your friends probably think I'm some creep now," he said; his tone wasn’t scolding or cold. He sounded thirsty for more of you. Like his throat had already run dry despite how much of you he drank earlier.

"I'd tell them the truth, but if I were to do that now then I'd be lying again," you whispered against his lips.

"We certainly cannot have you spreadin' no more dirty lies, now. Can we?"

-

Read Part 2 here.

[hiemaldesirae]

thinking of a witch/fae radiostatic au after rereading some of my guilty pleasure fandom fics hhhhhnneuhg

basically the gist of it is, unseelie king alastor gets kidnapped by witch vox's village and now vox needs to figure out how to keep alastor from dying because his death means the rest of the court coming for blood while also trying to make sure the fae king doesnt try and fucking eat him or something. oh also they knew each other before.

Vox's mother always used to say, there's comfort in routine.

Perhaps that's why Vox finds himself redoing the same three-card spread over and over, despite always managing to get the same results. He chews on his fingernails as he frowns harder, reshuffling once more.

"Whatcha doing?" Angel Dust, the only other witch in the village, pops up behind him, startling Vox, who sighs and relaxes once he realizes who's behind him. "I thought you were busy helping the healers, man. Are you just doing tarot readings while we're working ourselves ta' the bone?"

Vox frowns, pressing his lips together.

He doesn't have anything against Angel, really, it's just difficult talking to people who aren't Vel or Val. And maybe it's more difficult talking to Angel because of his relationship with Val, but that isn't something he's willing to admit in front of his best friend's boyfriend. "Well, I got basically put on house arrest today because apparently, the fae they brought back was so strong they didn't trust me not to get too interested in them and throw the whole plan off."

"Couldn't they've least stationed ya with the healers? You can serve that house arrest after we make sure no one's dead," Angel groans. "I mean, didya see the state everyone came back in?"

He had. Vox had watched with white knuckles as they'd brought Velvette and Valentino's unconscious forms across to the healers lodge and tents, doing and redoing protection spells around their home and the village wards. He had wanted to help as soon as he'd seen them, but the village chief had ordered for him specifically to stay home.

So he'd busied himself with tarot cards. But it seemed even that wasn't working out for him, because...

"Oh, shit. This is... a pretty fuckin' bad spread, ain't it?"

"You tell me," Vox grouses. He shuffles the cards again and tries another time, only for those same three cards to appear again as if mocking him. Three of Swords. The Tower. And of course, Death.

Now, of the three, death was probably the most positive card of the spread. All it meant was change- not necessarily as dark as its name. But the tower and three of swords... well. Those only spelt out foreboding fates.

"What didya even ask?"

"It's about the fae they brought in." Vox taps his hand against the counter before starting to reorganize his cards. No sense in leaving them out now, after all: their message had been clear and simple. This was a mistake. You're all fucked. "Apparently, they're on par with royalty. Which as you can probably guess, isn't very well known for their kind tempers. So I was doing readings to try and see what might happen from keeping them here, and..."

Angel grimaces. "So... you're saying that we're fucked, basically?"

"You can do your own reading if you want," Vox says cryptically as he stands up, stretching his limbs. "Anyway, I'm going to go and strengthen the protection shield on the village wards. Not much else to do while I'm stuck here, anyway."

"Right... well, guess I'll see ya round then."

"Mm, see you."

When Angel leaves, Vox breathes a sigh of relief. He unclenches his hand to regard the skeleton key he'd stolen from the chief hours earlier on complete autopilot, hardly even realizing he'd taken the damn thing til he'd gotten back home and started performing frantic readings.

It was the key to the village cellar, a place located on the edge of town. Vox, Val and Vel lived closest to it- which worked out well, considering of the three of them, two were part of the village's elite fae hunting brigade and the last was one of the villages only two witches, and the more experienced one at that. He supposed, given the circumstances, that the fae who'd beaten his friends to a pulp was probably down there. And, well... Vox was nothing if deathly curious.

So that night, on a half moon, Vox quietly exits the house, being sure not to accidentally trip an alarm on the way. He makes his way to the outdoors cellar and unlocks the door, making his way downstairs into a damp and cramped room. His eyes are immediately drawn to the large iron cage hanging in the dead centre of the room, sucking in a breath as he takes a small step back. The cage is impressive, but what's inside of it...

A mass of shadows writhe and twist around a restrained figure, dispersing slightly around where the fae's eyes must be. Vox flinches back when a ghostly grey-black hand reaches out for him, its dark tipped claws so sharp he's sure the fae could have sliced him to ribbons had they not been restrained by their shackles and prison.

It serves its purpose: Vox is immediately and incredibly intimidated. Having said that, he came here for a reason, and he's not so much of a fucking coward that he'd simply flee with his tail between his legs at the first sight of an adverse reaction from the captured faerie.

"Hey, uh... I know you probably don't believe me- and you probably shouldn't, honestly, but- er, I'm here to help you. As much as I can, anyway." Vox raises his hands up in the air as he moves slowly toward the cage, keenly aware of the fae's fixed gaze on him all the while.

He reaches out and slowly, cautiously, places a small, dead rabbit on the precipice of the cage's platform. It was one he'd caught with a trap that afternoon, under the excuse of storing away fresh meat for Velvette and Valentino when they returned- but, well, there were other animals he'd caught, too. They wouldn't miss one tiny rabbit.

The shadow cloaked faerie regards the mound of fresh meat for only a second before jerking forwards and swallowing it whole.

Vox watches with rapt attention, mesmerized by the faeries brutality. He almost doesn't notice when the fae turns to address him, voice raw and scratchy and deeper than the ocean. "What did you do that for?"

"Cause..." Vox worries at his lip.

He doesn't really want to lie to the fae- he's not dumb, alright, that'd be a practical death wish, even if he was lying with good intent- but he's also not so sure how it will react to being told he only did it out of curiosity. Because he wanted to see just what it was that his reading deemed so dangerous to their little town. "I guess... I wanted to see what was so strong that they took down half the village guard."

The fae startles at this. The shadows surrounding their cage shrinks back a little, finally unveiling enough of their appearance for Vox to put a face to a... well, for Vox to get a good look at them.

Dark reddish brown hair with black streaks at the edges sharpen into pointed deer ears, with two short buck antlers growing from the fae's head. They have deep crimson eyes, tinged with flecks of bright green- it pairs well with their skin, a deep, rich brown that reminds Vox of rich autumn soil at the harvest. He's... pretty sure this fae is a man, but appearances can be deceiving, and he's not quite keen on being cursed for assuming blindly.

"Hm. Well, you weren't among the host that came to attack me, were you now?" The faerie's eyes narrow as Vox stutters out a faint no, babbling out excuses to lead them away from the conclusion of him being a witch (and thus always placed under pseudo-house arrest when time comes for a fae hunt). "Then, you don't realize what a mistake your village has made, do you, dear?"

Vox pauses. "What do you mean, mistake?"

The room's temperature drops almost the moment the question falls from his lips, and Vox pulls his cloak closer to himself as he distances himself from the cage, willing his arms to stop trembling as he watches. The shadows around the fae pull close again and coalesce into a cape of sorts, rising above the faerie as they entwine themselves around the fae's head, almost like- almost like-

A crown.

"Oh, shit."

The Unseelie Fae King gives Vox a tight lipped smile. "So, do you see now?"

Well. At least that answered what the tarot cards were trying to tell him.

[wc-confessions]

I have to say this because I see so many people make violent stuff about killing Moth Flight or calling her a bunch of crude things and at first I did hate her, but then I reread Moth Flight’s book and… I began to think more on it. I kind of sympathize with her now.

Honestly? It shouldn’t be her we should direct all the anger at. Some, maybe, sure, I won’t deny Moth Flight is still flawed. But the Erins and their weird obsession with torturing Leafpool and Squirrelflight and being unable to write decently contributes to a lot of things. (This is actually true, Kate said she didn’t want Squirrelflight as a deputy and was her least favorite AND worked on Squirrelflight’s Hope)

Then it hit me. This line from Moth Flight’s Vision stood out to me. “Her dreams belonged to StarClan now. Every hair in her pelt, every beat of her heart, every breath belonged to them.” This sounds very cultish and highly implies StarClan groomed her into believing they were everything. She was young, had an abusive mother, and with her ADHD she hardly had any support. So when StarClan came along saying she would be the most special? When they basically said they were of the utmost importance even over her own kits? StarClan encouraged her, a neurodivergent cat who just wants to have her mother look her way and no longer be “the forgetful one that everyone hates”, to devote herself to them. 

Moth Flight was failed by the authors. She had so much potential, and then they fucked her up because they needed more drama in Squirrelflight’s Hope and their writing is full of misogyny at its core. It would have been amazing if Leafpool had been able to argue with Moth Flight and convince her something like her past trauma doesn’t allow her to keep upholding harmful rules and to look beyond StarClan if they wanted to go a route of generational trauma healing. But they didn’t, Moth Flight just yells at Leafpool for disobeying her law and StarClan is okay with this. StarClan again encourages this. The same StarClan that had brainwashed her. This is why I like a Starless Clan, because cats realizing StarClan aint all that is what we need. It is StarClan that chose Moth Flight as the first medicine cat and find the Moonstone. It is StarClan that told Leafpool she would have prophesied kits and then punished her anyway. That’s how they thank a cat that found the Moonstone? That’s how they treat a cat that found the Moonpool and had kits that saved the Clans?

StarClan needs to be obliterated and cats should topple this cult-like system. I wish Leafpool and Moth Flight both reconciled and realized how full of shit StarClan is.

.

[mypoisonedvine]

not a request but I just wanted to say how much I always love your sleepovers! I have such fond memories of them and still always revisit all the stuff you wrote for brühl during them 🥵 you’re such a talented writer and i hope you know just how loved and appreciate you are!

okay first of all I agree with you that the sleepovers are so fun and I have great memories of them, it's really nice to revisit it, I can't believe I used to do them EVERY SATURDAY I really had no life!!! I still don't but like damn! I hope I can make them more frequent again even if they're not THAT frequent lmao

and you really warmed my heart by saying all this <3 that fic is really special for me, and i didnt realize it at the time but looking back it's important because it's basically not even fanfiction. it's an original character that i created that has no actual background or dialogue or anything, i just made up a bunch of shit about him based on hardly anything and people still supported it and i still created something im proud of. and that means so much!! i need to go reread that after the sleepover ends lmao

and if you're a daniel girlie you're in luck because i got requests for him hehe i will hopefully finish up some of them soon!!

[lizardrosen]

ok so. finished rereading hamlet over the weekend and thought the ending was a bit odd but hey, it's been 15+ years, what do i remember. then start reading your fic and remember i was RIGHT, the play was missing something...and realize the project gutenberg version i'd downloaded to my ebook was the 1856 Kean director's cut that left a bunch of shit out. now i gotta start all over... ;)

ooh, that sounds fascinating though! i always love seeing what any given hamlet chooses to keep or cut, and what that says about the version of the world they're creating. hardly any productions of hamlet are completely uncut, because it's an absurdly long play! Ken Branagh's Hamlet (very proud of itself for being uncut) is a little over four hours, and it simply doesn't have a coherent satisfying vision.

but yeah, that's frustrating if you haven't read the play for so long and just want to know what shakespeare intended!! happy rereading, and i'd love to hear what kean chose to leave out once you can compare.

[barrenclan]

WOOO NEW ISSUE!! i began reading this earlier, but couldn’t finish due to me rereading what i had just read and focusing on the pictures!!! so yeah, finally finished it, and GRRR GOOD ISSUE

first off, throws thrasher in the cootstorm pit too, they can share. no transphobic kitties allowed (obviously not literally, but i love how like.. natural it is? it’s just cormorantpaw’s life and what he’s been raised to think). egrettail should deck him

also egrettail!!!!!! favorite kitty therapist!!!! i assume maybe asphodelpaw asked about her being aroace, maybe brought on after daffodil was like “oh!! ur just like me and asphodelpw!!!” to pinepaw, and that made her think “wait am i into men even?” but. yeah. she just wants to help and she’s such a sweetie

SEVEN. SILVERS. SHE’S MADE IT!!! SHE’S IN AN ISSUE FR!! ULTIMATE ALLY INVENTED HRT TO SUPPORT EGRETTAIL. THE MOST BASED CAT EVER. I LOVE HER SHE’S JUST A LITTLE KITTY. I HOPE SHE’S OKAY. IM GONNA SAY IT METHINKS EGRET, HUSH PUPPY, AND SEVEN SILVERS R FOUND FAMILY JUST A COUPLE OF CHOSEN SIBS. UNLESS THIS IS A NO. SORRY IM EXCITED ABOUT SEVEN SILVERS

shoutout to cormorantpaw for getting his 2nd issue. kinda a crime that i only bring him up now but its ok. i love the goofy early cartoons titlecard image with the literal lovebug and him just thinking it over before going “oh fk im bi” and i love how egrettail was like “it seems like it to me, but it’s up to u” bc she can’t really like. force him to think he has a crush, something about that was really gentle- back to cormorantpaw!!! now he’s a blushy mess and i love him for it. also WHAT DO U HAVE TO DO BOY. WHAT IS YOUR ANGST

yes i know daffodilpaw was hardly here but she still gets her own section bc that’s my favorite community hc collection. cormorantpaw doesn’t seem to want to be involved romantically with her, saying how she’s nice but also noting how she doesn’t tend to listen to him (which doesn’t make daffy a bad person!! just something they gotta communicate as buddies) but also mentioning how she puts her paw on his, and also in the sleeping shot cormorantpaw is staring past daffodilpaw, who sleeps next to him, and at pinepaw. i’m just. babey noooo. break out of ur toxic mindset its okkk. unless u actually do like cormorantpaw then i’m. sorry. how did i make the daffodilpaw section the longest oops

rate this issue 5 mysterious end birds out of 5!!! thank u for another great issue :3

So sorry not answering this ask for awhile! All that trouble with my account hit at a bad time. I'm glad you liked the issue, though. :)

Egrettail had the patience of a saint for not beating the absolute shit out of Thrasher when they were in Defiance, and I'm certain she gave him what for on more than one occasion after Hush Puppy died.

Yes, she and Asphodelpaw may have had a conversation about similar realizations she was going through just like Cormorantpaw, heheh. We'll get there someday.

I was so excited to finally include Seven Silvers in an issue!! When I first created her character I wasn't planning on it, but she's just too fun not to use. Hell, I'm allowed to invent magic cat hormone therapy if I want to, who's gonna stop me. Seven, Hush Puppy, and Egret are any manner of close friends you like, and found family/siblings are as good a way as any.

The POVs from other characters are not going to be very common, since Pinepaw is the protagonist in the end, but it's always nice to dip back into Cormorantpaw's thick little skull. I was pretty pleased with myself for thinking of the rubberhose style joke with "lovebug", honestly. Don't worry about his angst, I'm sure it's nothing.

Good catch on everything with Daffodilpaw in this issue! It's something I did intentionally include, and did want to draw a comparison between Corm describing her as not really listening to him with Pinepaw always listening to what he says (which as you said, doesn't mean Daff is a bad person, just that she's got her own things to work out).

[justasimp1]

Matt Murdock x F! Reader

Smut and Fluff!

Celsius

All night you've held it up. The fake smile, fake laugh, and the unwavering demeanor. You felt like you could just explode, knowing the dirty situation you got yourself in.

"You okay?" Karen whispered a little too loudly, making the boys turn their heads to you. You nodded your head, taking another drag of the glimmering alcohol in your glass.

"Yeah I'm doing good. Just a little tipsy" You tried you best to slightly slur your words in a convincing way. Karen and Foggy chuckled, going back to studying the most recent case over again.

You silently cursed at yourself under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut until a tightness formed inside your sockets. You found yourself rereading that one paragraph on the file several times—maybe you really were tipsy...

But you couldn't even be focused completely on the tangy champagne lingering on your tastebuds. You made a short glance at the vigilante overriding your thoughts.

God, he looked so good, loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and that concentrated look on his face that made his strawberry lips curve to the side. And his lips, the 2 pieces of flesh were always in your dreams ever since that night.

You could recite the events like a poem, the number of times you've gone over it in your head, it was more than a memory, it was burned into your hippocampus.

Matt kept looking at you, more than he was supposed to, more than a boss is supposed to look at his worker—or at least that's what you thought. Or maybe it was just your repressed feelings floating back up to the surface.

"Here you are" Matt whispered, a grin covering his mouth. You laughed, unlocking your apartment door but pausing before you could step inside.

"Thanks for walking me home. I owe you" Your breathing was shallow as you noticed the proximity between you two. That day felt like a dream and the parting seemed like your only chance to start something new.

"It's no big deal. I would do it any day" The way he spoke was charming and intoxicating making you get lost looking at his face. It felt like a millisecond and decades passed.

You hardly registered when your weight shifted to the tip of your toes to match his height and when your fingers ghosted the brown locks on his nape, pulling him in. Your conscience finally kicked in when you felt your lips moving against a stiff figure. His whole body was frozen and it was like you could feel the rejection pouring in.

"Shit I'm so sorry I just thought–" You stopped yourself speaking and realized you sound like an assaulter. "Sorry" You rushed inside your home, closing the door and locking it. Your heart was in your ears and the salty beads of years wouldn't stop streaming down your cheeks.

"My Uber's here!" Karen squealed, a hint of eagerness in her voice. You waved bye to her, looking at the couch where Foggy was laid out, 1 second away from falling asleep. When the door clicked shut that's when you notice the embarrassing silence kicking in.

You gathered up the pile of folders Karen was looking at, standing up off the cold wood. You walked toward Matt's office. The blinds had a small crack in them, allowing some of the sunset to seep in. You let out a small giggle, rushing over to the window to see the pink sky.

You wished you could take a picture with your eyes. "So pretty" You reached out to touch the window that was fogging with condensation. You blew your breath on it like an elementary child, tracing a heart with your initials inside of it.

"What is?" That smooth voice made your body go rigid. You gulped, turned around, and scurried to put the files in his file cabinets. You tried to scoot past him, hand-stretched to pull open the door but he caught your arm. "Can we talk?" He asked, in a small desperate whisper.

How could you say no to that? You nodded even though he couldn't see the gesture. "You haven't spoken to me in 64 hours. You didn't say one word to me today, you kept walking past me like I'm a ghost" He sounded crazy like he was pushed over the edge with this.

You found yourself making slow steps back like a timid animal about to get devoured by its biggest predator. "And if it's because of that night...I—" He took a long breath, a hand coming to cover his face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm stupid" You blabbered, face turning warm as the sound wall collided with your bath. Matt's finger went underneath your chin to pick up your drooping face.

You blinked rapidly to get rid of the embarrassing tears, looking at him. Maybe it was the blur from the water in your eyes but it seemed like he was getting closer. You blinked one more time to get the glossy liquid out.

And in that second Matt's lips were on yours, moving gently, hand cupping your cheek. You gripped onto his white shirt. It felt good–more than good. You exhaled, feeling his tongue search for whatever was inside your mouth.

You squeezed your thighs together to get rid of the burning bubbling inside your abdomen. Every moral or willingness to finish a civil conversation was thrown out the window. Matt's calloused hands help you tug your leggings off of you.

As the fabric was stripped off you, ghost bumps replaced the clothing. Matt picked you up, stumbling over to his desk, he nudged a few mini things to the floor before laying you on the cold surface like a dinner plate.

He took off his shirt and glasses while maintaining a steamy kissing session with you. You panted in his mouth, undergarments getting soaked with your arousal. You felt his hand cup your clothed heat, palm digging in to apply pressure.

"Wait" You pulled away, the words dying on your tongue when you see his small pants and lips following yours. "We can't—I can't do this, you're my boss" You stammered, hugging your sweater close to your body.

Matt paused for a bit, disappointment settling across his handsome features. "You're fired" The words slipped out briefly before he continued attacking your lips. You didn't have time to process the feelings of getting fired or the quickness of his hands peeling each article of clothing off your body.

You whined, hands entangling themselves in his scalp. He pulled your hips closer to his. You could feel a thick presence pressing against the thin material of your panties. The tip of his cock nudged your undergarments aside, slowly stretching out your walls.

You opened your mouth in ecstasy, a long moan leaving your mouth. "Matthew" You whispered in his ear, wrapping your legs around his figure. He started moving, and the sound of skin connecting filled the room.

Your stomach tightened with every thrust pushed inside of you. You could feel the cold breeze from the AC ghosting your bare hole. The muscles of your thighs ache as he pushed your legs aside to keep shoving in his length. You felt your back arch from the table's shaking surface.

"I've wanted this so bad" He spoke quietly, mouth pressed against the crook of your nape so that with every breath he took he could get a inhale of your presence. His cock was slightly twitching inside of you as he started to move faster.

Your climax was tighter to hold onto, the familiar white specks covering your vision, heart taking over other sounds. You started to repeat Matt's name like a mantra, your fingers digging into his back.

He didn't stop as you started convulsing, the exploding electricity taking over your body. You moaned and the itching sensation when he didn't stop bucking his hope into you.

The warm wetness made a white ring around his shaft enter inside of you, making new squelches and other damp sex sounds. You're mouth parted, whining at him to stop. Matt finally pulled out, cum sprouting over your torso.

He lifted his face, hand coming up to your cheek, brushing away invisible loose hairs on your face. "You're so beautiful" He kissed you, the motion filled with sweetness and relaxation. You couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"I wished I wasn't so scared that night..." Matt trailed off but you interrupted him with a kiss, holding him tight.

Masterlist

[a-bucket-of-trash]

Crashing Trust – Kelvin x Neutral Reader – Part 2/?

Part 1

Tag: Angst

The days that followed were particularly hard on you, physically and emotionally. You had gone from sharing everything with Kelvin, to being alone, in silence, coming and going, doing all the tasks that were previously divided between you two, only with the sound of your sobs appearing from time to time and accompanying the melody of your lonely boots on the stones. You had loved him, and the betrayal hurt you more than his absence. You knew that you would not see his smile anymore, nor would you talk to him, nor would you hug him, nor would you see him receive you with his usual joy, offering you the fish he had caught.

You went hunting a few days later, in the surrounding area. You came back with a hare, all to yourself, and you saw two fresh fish near the fire, fish you hadn't caught. Part of your soul fondly remembered Kelvin, and part of you was relieved to know that he was okay, as well as acknowledging that he had brought you food. But your logical brain and your emotional pain were stronger. You remembered that he had wanted to experiment on you, that his backpack was full of sleeping pills, so those fish could be hiding something shadowy. You kicked them into the river, you didn't want that to attract vermin or rot on your doorstep.

And every few days, when you went out to hunt or kill cannibals, you'd come back to find fresh fish, which you automatically kicked down the river. You weren't going to eat what he left you, you'd rather starve or eat a cannibal's leg. You knew that meat was meat, if you cooked it well, it didn't matter. You knew that the only thing you couldn't eat from a human was the brain, you had learned that in one of the strange army survival courses. Everything was potentially edible, but the brain was not, sometimes it could harbor a virus that was too deadly and difficult to cook.

The loneliness was starting to bother and hurt you, to the point that you had found yourself rereading some things that had been written at the time in your notebook, looking for the words and feelings of months ago to fill the gap that he had left. You grunted when you realized what you were doing, insulting yourself, tore off the few blank sheets that would be useful to you, and threw the little notebook into the fire, seeing the letters, the nonsense, the conversations disappearing in the flames.

On one of your hunting afternoons, you had attacked several cannibals and you stayed in the area for a moment, taking the few things that could be useful to you. A sound to the side made you take your bow and take aim, ready to defend yourself. Seeing that it was Kelvin hardly made you loosen the string a bit.

“Ey…” He whispered, holding up his hands as a sign that he wasn't going to attack you “How are... you? You not eating well… You not eating my fish...”

You wanted to yell at him, but it wasn't a very safe area, doing that was going to attract even more enemies "I don't think you understood that I hate you" You hissed loud and clear enough for him to hear you, without stopping pointing at him "I'm not going to eat nothing you give me, get away from me once and for all"

"Can't. Love you ” He looked into your eyes, firm.

"I don't give a shit" You hissed again, hurt by his words "Stop coming near me, or one day I won't be so nice and I'll attack you for real"

"You not... You not kill member of squad” He muttered.

"You are not a member of my squad!" You dropped the bow to approach him, furious “You're not on my team, you're nothing! You are a traitorous soldier who, even before the accident, forgot what we had been through together!”

“I remembered things… I…”

His words were silenced thanks to the generous slap you gave him. Kelvin kept his eyes closed, feeling his cheek burn, his ear ringing, waiting for another hit.

"Be thankful I have a code of my own, or I would have used the ax instead of my hand." You growled. "Stop looking for me, stop following me, stop feeding me, asshole."

You took your few things and left him there, standing alone. You didn't care if your scream left him as a victim of cannibals. But you knew that Kelvin would come back, he was an insistent son of a bitch, and seeing more fish, more and more often, was confirmation.

If he didn't walk away from you, you would. You had traveled the island more times than him, you knew that there were other points where you could survive, so you took your backpack, filled it as much as possible with the useful things that you had found during those months, you loaded up with all the weapons and, as soon as the sun dawned, you left the cabin that you two had built with affection and effort.

The load was horribly heavy, but you didn't stop in the couple of days it took you to reach one of those points. For a couple of weeks you were somewhat calm, thinking that he had understood the idea. You would survive there, although you speculated that during the winter it would be a little more difficult.

You were already beginning to plan how and what to build, beyond your provisional shelter when, returning from hunting, you found three fish next to your shelter. You were furious, you wanted to scream and make the cannibals to come so you could fight with them and blow off steam. That stupid bastard had found you. You saw the scribbled land, an ILU evidently written with a stick or something, which you erased with your boots, angry.

As if that weren't enough, the river wasn't close, you'd have to take the stupid fish there so they wouldn't rot. You weren't going to eat them, it didn't matter if you hadn't hunted anything that afternoon, you had sworn not to try anything that came from him, not if you didn't want to end up asleep wherever the Cube was and be transformed into god knows what.

Tired, hungry and even more angry, you reloaded the backpack with the few things you had taken out, put it on yourself and left there. Anywhere, away from him.

Part 3

[andypantsx3]

so yesterday when you posted about Class 1-A vs The Curse of Rule 34 i immediately read it and i loved it and so i read a few of their other fics and loved them and so i was wondering if you have any more fic recs that you’d like to share? it could be reader insert, oc or neither tbh i just trust your judgement in fics so i’m sure anything you recommend will be great! (also i love your writing so much i stumbled upon it multiple times in a03 and then tumblr just to realize it was yours before i decided to follow you (i tend to be really picky on who i follow idk why) because i went through your masterlist an read everything and then re-read everything)

Ahhh hello my love, I am honored by your follow!! You're literally so sweet and I can't tell you how much it means to me that I made the cut lol. Please don't feel pressure though, I'm always happy with just an occasional visit too!!

I definitely recommend anything in my fic recs tag - the fics I recommend here on tumblr are generally character x reader or character x OC and they range from smutty to fluffy lol.

My guilty pleasure though, and the majority of my fave fics are gen or ship fics!! I actually hardly ever read x reader fic--absolutely no idea why I am this way--but if you're up for some gen or ship fic, I'm happy to rec a couple others.

I'm not sure what you're into at the moment but I will give you some of my faves!!

Don't Ask Don't Tell by Ms_Chunks Bakugou/Uraraka. I probably don’t even need to describe this one since this is the flagship Kacchako fic lol. But Bakugou and Uraraka explore the compatibility of their quirks and create a pair combat style, and fall in love along the way. I fucking love the way the author uses the chemistry of their quirks to parallel the compatibility of their personalities, and Uraraka is such a bad ass in this one ughghgh I love it.

who lives, who dies, who tells your story by aloneintherain Todoroki/Midoriya, though mostly gen. Examines Toshinori’s life post-retirement and the exploits of class 1-A post-graduation, through narrative and social media blurbs. I’ve never read anything that manages to be so bittersweet, so hopeful, and so funny all at once.

Thanks for Saving Me by Esselle Todoroki/Midoriya. This is a pro hero Shouto/quirkless science nerd Deku fic that is one of my all time faves. This is the type of shit my fics wish they were doing. This author is out here peddling the slightly-sugar-daddy-but-also-slightly-a-little-bit-of-a-shit Shouto agenda and it is absolute perfection. I routinely reread for comfort.

Slow to Start (But Quick to Burn) by mousapelli Kirishima/Bakugou. It's an ABO AU where omega Bakugou slowly figures out how to manage his relationship to alpha Kirishima, while Kirishima is predictably kind, patient, and understanding. This fic is totally stuffed full of domesticity--lounging around doing laundry and homework together, baking together, and napping together. Actually my all-time fave comfort fic, I have read this probably a million times.

journey to the past by aloneintherain Gen fic. A time travel fic where the members of Class 1-A go back in time to protect Izuku during the various stages of his life, as villains with a time travel quirk attempt to target the future number one hero while he's still a kid. It's so good and sweet and heartfelt and lovely and the author does an amazing job exploring Izuku's relationship with several of the major characters.

And probably a fic rec closest to the Rule 34 rec would be:

A Demolition Boy & his Cryptid BF by kewltie Bakugou/Midoriya. This is a social media fic similar in style to Class 1-A vs The Curse of Rule 34--it’s a youtuber AU where bkdk are youtubers in different genres, and the internet has a conspiracy theory that they’re together. Another really good send up of fandom and fandom culture, and another one of my faves.

I hope at least one of these is something you're in the mood for!! And please send some of your faves my way!! I'm a slow reader but literally always open to more recs!! 💕💕💕

[melis-writes]

Hi, I had watched the movie Carlito’s Way a long while ago and became absolutely obsessed with him. So I came to tumblr in search of something to soothe the absolute hunger I have for him. And I had ended up being pretty disappointed because there really wasn’t anything on here for him except for the two fanfics you posted. And lord.. when I read them, I lost my shit.😭

Your writing is fucking amazing, literally a work of art. I was so deviously down bad that I was coming back to reread your fics almost every single day. Like I quite literally couldn’t get through my bad without reading your Carlito fanfics. So, I hope you don’t mind me sending in a couple of requests.🫶(because I’m a filthy little slut for Carlito and you are the only person who can perfectly fulfill by sinful thirst for this man.) also sorry if this is a lil too explicit if I make you uncomfortable or anything you can just ignore this message entirely and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.

So imagine, Carlito is sitting at his desk quietly. Trying desperately to focus on the paperwork in-front of him. Trying to focus on anything but you and how your cunt was squeezing him so fucking tightly. He feels you, sees you. Squirming impatiently, legs shaking, nails digging into the soft silk robe he bought that you had wrapped around your beautiful body, god- and how absolutely fucking wet you were. His cock was telling him to take you right there. Throw you over the desk and fuck you like the slut you were. He could only imagine how it would feel to grab you by the hair, manhandle you, and drag his cock in and out of you. He couldn’t just sit here, especially when you felt so good warning his cock. He was supposed to be punishing you for christ sake. But when he was around you all of his resolve seemed to disappear in an instant.

Yea I tried.😭 in short I just need you to hook me up. Im just desperate. You literally don't even have to do what I asked. You could feed me pig food and I would eat it. I just need a filthy Carlitos smut fic. I'm dying without one. But yea, sorry if this is too much and again If your not comfortable you can ignore this entire message. But I just need some Carlito right now. 🙁

I hope your doing well, have a nice (night/day/evening) bye - your #1 fan ❤️❤️

Omg hello Mrs. Brigante!! 😍😍 Wow, honestly this ask/prompt request surprised and blew me away in the best way possible. I don’t blame you with the Carlito obsession, honestly! 😅❤️ I don’t see much of it though and Carlito is so underrated!! I was super happy to write a whole oneshot fic for him but even with my prompts open for smut and non-smut Carlito x Reader, I’ve probably only received like 1-2 ever. I love to hear that you enjoyed my work for Carlito!! 🥺 They were a blast to write. You’re so sweet!! Thank you for the compliments and love, honestly it made my whole day! I’m always open to more requests, I just wish I had all the time in the world to just sit down and write all of them but I definitely promise to get to them one by one! I love this sexy, smutty prompt idea and it’s in no way making me uncomfortable or something I wouldn’t write, so I’d be happy to post it here for ya. 🥵

‘$75,000 and I’m out. Just that, then I’m gone. Me and my girl…’ Carlito’s eyes trail over the sprawled out paperwork upon his desk, eager to distract himself from numbers and legal paperwork for his nightclub.

‘Off to paradise…’ Carlito’s eyes gaze over at the sunny artwork of the Bahamas hanging just above the door to his office.

Carlito lets out a deep sigh to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. The pen in Carlito’s hand drops onto the stack of paperwork before him, but he can’t possibly care less. Carlito can hardly focus on anything except the thought of you now.

Without even realizing it, Carlito clenches his hand tightly enough that his knuckles strain white, yet he almost wants to give into the thought of you lingering in his mind all day instead of doing anything else.

To sit in his office and try to focus on doing something productive when Carlito fucked you over his desk just the other night is simply an impossibility to him.

The thought and memory of you alone instantly arouses Carlito to no avail, and his mind easily wanders to every heated fuck session he’s had with you in his office and how he wishes he’d rather be taking you again.

Just last night you came into Carlito’s office and distracted him from his paperwork, but Carlito can hardly remember what he was doing before you came in.

All Carlito thinks of now is how your body felt against his—pressed up with not an inch of space between the two of you; his hands groping over your ass and fondling your breasts through your silk robe down to the shape of your body and how he caressed every inch of your hot skin ten times over all while reminding you who you belonged to, answering Carlito to who your pussy belongs to as your hips bounced back over his cock.

Thinking about the way your tight heat contracted with every thrust and convulsed in orgasm over Carlito’s cock, squeezing and letting your pussy’s wetness ooze down his shaft instantly gives Carlito a growing, insistent erection.

“Fuck,” Carlito mutters to himself as he leans back in his seat—practically being able to feel you on him all over again with how vivid his memory is; how he craves and yearns for every inch of you again and again.

Your hips pressed up against his, grinding up and down Carlito’s erection just begging for him to manhandle you and pin you down to his desk—take you right there and then.

Carlito barely had the patience through the heat of the moment to get you naked first, tugging and clutching onto the plush, silk robe that adorned your body and night after night that Carlito was used to throwing off of you.

Carlito slowly moves his hand off his desk and down to his belt, pausing for a moment to indulge further into the fantasy and thought of you further.

You teased Carlito last night with little breathy whimpers, begging him to touch you, revealing you had no panties on underneath your robe and how desperate you were to be fucked until your legs quivered uncontrollably and you were a cum filled mess, squirming on Carlito’s desk.

Carlito’s lips hunger to kiss over your beautiful body; around the outline of your jaw and over your collarbones.

Licking and suckling to leave little love marks while his hands squeezed and spanked your ass until your skin was glowing pink and all you could do was squirm in Carlito’s arms.

From how aroused you were, your pussy drenched Carlito’s cock with every thrust you were eager to take to feel every inch of his thickness.

Carlito’s cock was pulsating, demanding to take you and fuck you in every way possible; you wanted Carlito make you his little whore, his own personal slut more than ever.

Carlito knows he’s never going to get enough of that. Only now he can continue to imagine himself pulling on your hair and pinning you against his desk again to fuck you from behind like a dirty slut—thrusting as fast and sloppy as he could.

Just as only you can satisfy every desire and burning, sinful passion Carlito has for you, it’s the same vice versa.

Carlito has you ensnared in a web of lust—the only man who can please you to the heights of absolute ecstasy and then more.

Any other time, Carlito would have already left his office and have you wrapped around his finger, but punishing you will have no meaning if he gives in just like that first.

Carlito’s eyes open as he looks towards the door of his office, knowing you’re downstairs dressed in that lacy satin lingerie set he bought for you.

It doesn’t matter how he feels now or away from you; you bring a relief and sense of serenity to Carlito from the very moment he steps into your presence.

He can never hold a grudge against you, he’d never want to—not to the woman of his life and dreams.

[birchbow]

In the past few days I reread PoF and there’s so many entertaining little details that I didn’t absorb on the first go-round, but are bringing me much joy now!

And also! Kurloz was so very guarded at the beginning of the story; it’s very fun to reread some of that with a much broader understanding of his insecurities, his fears, and just generally what he’s likely to be thinking about at any given point in time. On that note, when he first quadranted with Gamzee, how optimistic was he about it?? I could see how the complementary sadism/masochism might look like serendipity. And Kurloz specifically tells Gamzee it’s not going to be a one-time thing. But he also doesn’t seem to realize until much later that this entails becoming extremely emotionally attached to Gamzee - almost like he initially thought their matespritship would be convenient, but was somehow unaware that it could change him. Very much “this might work out nicely” and hardly any “so what would it be like to be in an emotionally and physically fulfilling relationship.” I’d love love love to hear any thoughts you have on what was going on inside Kurloz’s head there!!

I think this is a good read! I'd agree with the "this feels like it works" and "the way what we want lines up feels serendipitous" but I'd also add on a certain amount of, like... "he needs this, and I can give it to him and be good for him" (with no forethought that it might go both ways). I think Kurloz at the beginning of the fic was mentally and emotionally prepared for it to be like.... he'd obviously be the magnanimous and mature partner, who's secure in himself and keeps things under control and feels sorry for Gamzee, the Obviously More Damaged One. It was well-meant, but not necessarily as healthy or sustainable if he'd stayed that way at length! Loving, but with a lingering note of something kind of condescending.

Except then he found out/remembered 1. oh shit it turns out I have cracks and trauma and weaknesses too, and being intimate with someone at length they're GOING to find those, and 2. loving someone makes you vulnerable in ways you might not be prepared for, and caring about things is a very worthwhile but very painful exercise in taking off your armor.

It's been several hundred years since the man was in a romantic relationship lmao he was NOT prepared.

[alistairlowes]

aoud live reread part2 where we are sad

no but gotta love how they all forgive reid just like that even though he fucked them all up but sure let's kill alistair fuck him he is way worse 🙄

*

gavin to alistair while torturing a person:

“You’re not doing this alone.”

and they say romance is dead

*

"Self-sabotage or not, Alistair was starting to realize he did like boys."

*

"He’d insulted Gavin. Fought him. Hated him. And yet, he realized he wanted him, a moth drawn to a lantern even knowing it would burn."

lines that altered my brain chemistry

*

“In a different story, would we still have been enemies?”

“Does it matter?”

*

Yet even as Alistair strode outside, he tossed several glances at his shoulder, hoping—recklessly—that Gavin would follow.

He didn’t.

HE SHOULD HAVE. can't blame him tho neither of them can read emotions for shit

*

“Gav?” Alistair’s voice rasped through the dark. She hadn’t realized that he and Gavin were on a nickname basis.

bestie i wish you knew

*

"He knew exactly how he felt about Alistair, and after all the time they’d spent together he’d thought—maybe foolishly—that Alistair might feel the same way. But he didn’t even know if Alistair liked boys."

*

and fuck grieve family too.

*

"Alistair had asked him who they’d be, in a different story. He wondered for the first time if they could have one. If they could truly acknowledge what was happening to the tournament. To Hendry. Between each other."

I AM ILLLL

*

i would kill to get hendry's pov of what it's like looking at these two oblivious idiots

*

"Instead, he’d opted for a subtler strategy, targeting Alistair’s greatest weakness: his heart."

we cannot keep doing thissss

*

“Do you hear yourself right now? Gavin doesn’t want to kill you. If anything, he—”

LET HIM SPEAK LET THE MAN SPEAAAK

*

“I don’t want to be another thing that haunts you, Al.”

*

alistair on his little murder spree

hendry:

alistair about to kill his boyfriend

hendry: okay that's enough

*

"He couldn’t stop thinking about Alistair’s hand on his cheek. The rage on his face. He’d wanted Alistair to touch him like that for so long that it had hardly mattered to him if it was the last thing he ever felt."

when i tell you they make me ill i mean it

*

“You can’t kill my brother. You like him too much.”

and there it is <3

*

“Dying is the only thing I was ever supposed to do.”

shhhh. no

*

honestly hendry parts always get me because as fun as these books are this is actually v fucked up and it's making me sad

"I—I don’t want to die knowing that everything I’ve suffered through meant nothing.”

😭🔫

*

“When I escape, I’ll kill him. I’ll make his blood boil in his veins. I’ll skewer him upon a stake and leave him for the crows to feast on. I’ll fashion myself a crown out of his bones.”

why is he like this

“You’re too late,” Alistair told him. “I’ve long descended into madness.”

“It’s been fourteen hours.”

CRYING

*

"I always do this to myself. I get these … twisted thoughts about whoever is close to me.”

i was gonna say he is so relatable because i too fall in love with anyone nice to me but ok he is self aware

*

“Stay,” Alistair whispered. “Please.”

*

“I’m sorry,” Alistair said. His first good thing, and he was terrified of it. Terrified that Gavin would reject it—or worse, twist it. Whatever Alistair felt for Gavin, whether it was genuine or a symptom of self-sabotage, he didn’t need Gavin to return it. But Alistair didn’t know how he’d go forward if he didn’t have someone to believe in him. And he wanted that someone to be Gavin.

SCREAMING

*

"Isobel couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when Reid had earned her forgiveness, but he had."

they are like great and all but it's funny how she forgave him when he got her into the tournament and fucking kidnapped her and not alistair who did all he did by accident cuz he dumb 😭

*

alistair's curse is becoming white haired anime boy ☠️

*

"Gavin remembered how Alistair had crumpled into his arms in the courtyard; how he’d felt so fragile there, as though all the villainous armor he’d so carefully constructed had fallen away. Gavin had known at that moment it no longer mattered to him what they’d done to each other. He still wanted this. Wanted Al. But after a lifetime of Gavin pushing his desires aside, he had no idea how to approach something so important."

THEY ARE SO CAREFUL WITH EACHOTHER I CAN'T

*

"Gavin regretted bringing up the fan club earlier, if only because he now suspected he’d accidentally become its president."

no that's me actually sorry

*

“I’m sorry you had the world’s worst first kiss,” he said. “You deserved something better.”

“I think you could argue I deserved exactly what I got,” Alistair murmured.

“We both know that’s not true.”

*

briony saying how she wants chips when this is all over... well... WELL...

*

“Do you know how this looks? Like I’m some kind of freak mastermind, manipulating everyone behind the scenes.”

“But isn’t that kind of the truth?”

literally 🤡

*

alistair saying he didn't use the ring to save gavin's life even though he knew it would kill him even tho he didn't want to do it for whole of 2 books because it was his brother's life he is just so full of shit i love him sm :')

*

“I’m sorry,” Gavin forced out, over and over, as though he’d somehow failed Alistair after being the only person beside his brother who’d stayed with him, who’d believed in him despite everything he’d done."

*

"After everything he’d gone through, one thing remained unchanged: He’d always want what he’d never have."

AAAAAAAAGGGGXGDHHDHD. this chapter makes me so mentally ill i'm sorry

*

"And if his enemy’s lips were the last, fatal touch Alistair ever felt, then so be it. He would gladly welcome his demise."

THEY ARE SO FUCKING SICK FOR WRITING THIS LINE

*

alistair: how did you know kissing me would break the curse?? 😳

gavin who just wanted to kiss him:

*

noah fence but two of them making out on a grass next to a corpse is the single best scene ever written idgaf no one will ever match this

*

“You’re the only good thing I have left. So I want to try and make this work, if you do.”

🥺🥺🥺

*

gavin is a good brother and a bigger person than me because if i had to pick between running away with alistair or staying to take care of my brother girl i'd be out so fast ☠️

*

as long as alistair is happy ❤️

*

okay done damn what the fuck am i suppose to do now

[teaandcharchives]

Ask Skyrim Johnkat - Battlehorn Chapter 4

Fandom: Homestuck, skyrim, the elder scrolls.

Pairing: johnkat, DaveJade, and eventually we’ll be getting into some poly stuff that I hen’t figured out how to annotate yet.

Word Count:   13866

Rating: M, might go up to E later, or I might post those parts either. For now just sexual references.

Summary:   More in the realm of “after the happily ever after.” They may have managed to save the world, but can John and Karkat handle the actual homecoming? If that seems like a step down, it’s probably because early modern local government is a lot more complicated than it first appears. Especially because there’s a lot of moving pieces in the Egbert Family once everyone comes home…

Read on AO3 here, or under cut below

Series start

Notes: Let this be a lesson in why you leave comments on old fics - There was one very kind person who read all 260k words of this AU a couple months ago and really loved it, which inspired me to go back and reread it, learn it still holds up (though I did make a couple little tweaks), and realize I wanted to go back to playing in the space. So I did.

I'm not sure how this chapter got to be almost 14k, other than that the only logical splitting point was less than 1/3 in. Besides, if you're gonna come back after *checks watch* four years, might as well do a lot.Because this is just playing in the space, I'm not sure how much more I'm actually going to write, and it's definitely going to be a lot more episodic than the other pieces. But I do have outlines for 3 more chapters ready to go. So there's that lol.

Chapter 4 

It’s easier than you thought it’d be to slot yourself back into life at the castle. You were worried that after a full year of wandering around it’d be overwhelming to keep so many tasks balanced, to commit yourself to a schedule. Yet, after a few days it almost feels like you'd never left.

You’ve got Karkat now, of course, but you barely see him, especially compared to when you traveled together. He spends all day with his nose in books, but it’s not like when you were at Winterhold. You were separated all day, sure, but then in the evenings he’d be so animated in telling you about whatever he’d read. Now he just seems drained. You suppose that’s the difference between law or etiquette and shit he actually cares about. You can talk a little bit in the baths and you hold each other once you get back to your rooms, but you don't get much time before exhaustion takes one or the other of you. On Temple days you sit beside him, sure, but it’s hardly a social experience. You just share space as the priest and congregation offer prayers to the divines, and then as soon as services are over you have to hustle back to the castle to listen to grievances with your dad. You admit it was kind of nice to have a bit of space at first. It gave you something new to talk about in your time alone, but now you kind of miss him.

Then, one day in early Frost Fall, your father calls for a house meeting in his study. By the time you arrive, everyone else is there already. Your uncle sits at the desk and your dad stands behind him. You were expecting Karkat and Jake, but are somewhat surprised to see Provenco and Marcellia, the steward and head cook. That means it’s probably not strictly a family problem, but there are still plenty of things it could be. Your mind is racing. Did someone die? Is someone going to die? Are you losing funding? Are the borders changing? Which ones? When you take your place next to Karkat, he quickly grips your hand tightly. 

Two pieces of paper on the desk catch your eye. You see broken seals on the top and bottom. They’re clearly letters, but you can’t see enough to tell from whom, just that one was sealed with white wax and the other blue. 

A smile tweaks at the corner of your father’s mouth. “Don’t look so stressed. This is good news.” 

There’s a collective breath outward. Not a full sigh from anyone, but enough of a release of tension to be palpable. 

“Could have led with that,” you hear Karkat grumble. You gently elbow him. 

“First,” Your father continues. You’re not sure if he didn’t hear Karkat or is just choosing to ignore him. “Jade is returning sometime next week. And much like John, she's bringing someone home.”

“So she and Dave did get betrothed?” Jake asks. 

“According to this letter, yes.” 

In some ways that’s even more of a relief. You and Jake look at each other and smile. You wanted to believe Karkat when he said Dave would come home with Jade, but with how little you knew about the guy you couldn’t be sure. But she’s coming! She’ll be home soon! And then if she starts training apprentices too, maybe you’ll be able to have a little more time to spend with Karkat. 

“And the timing is perfect, because Countess Olivia Valga will be joining us for the Witches Festival as well.” 

“This isn’t a prank, is it, my lord?” Asks Provenco. His voice is firm, and his broad, serious features are set in a neutral expression, but you can see hints of concern in his eyes. “The last time a Count or Countess came for a banquet was your wedding. My staff would only have a week and a half to prepare!” 

“You may read her letter, if you wish,” Dad says, lifting the piece of parchment with the blue seal. “I am sorry for the short notice, Provenco. Especially since I know your father handled the preparations last time. However, you have managed this estate for many years now, and you are as skilled a steward as he was, and I have every faith in you, as well as Marcellia,” he adds, nodding to her. “You will have the apprentices fully at your disposal until then. It’ll do some of the younger ones good. John, Jake, I expect you to coordinate with the Pontillas, make sure they have all the help they need.”

You and your cousin nod.  

“When is she coming and how long will she be here?” Marcellia asks. “I need to know for menu planning.” 

“She plans to arrive the thirteenth and leave the fourteenth. She’ll be bringing one handmaid, but is leaving her husband to manage the city.” 

“Did she say why she’s coming now?” You ask. 

“She did not, but I imagine it has to do with you. The way most people tell it, you - with or without Karkat’s help depending on the teller - effectively ended the war and dragon crisis by yourself. And furthermore,” Your dad’s gaze turns to Karkat. “She’ll want to meet her future vassal.”

Your fiance inhales sharply, and you gently rub his knuckles with your thumb in reassurance. 

“We’ll be switching to a focus on etiquette,” Uncle Joel says, “So you don’t have to worry so much about logistics until after Olivia leaves. The goal, remember, is for you to succeed.” 

“Right,” Karkat says. It’s subtle (for him), but you can tell he doesn’t believe it. 

“Any questions?” Dad asks. 

Everyone looks at each other awkwardly. 

“Well, then, let’s get to it. Karkat, John, you stay.” 

You and Karkat both tense. 

“You’re not in trouble,” your dad and uncle say at the same time. 

Jake and the Pontillas leave. Jake gives you a reassuring pat on the shoulder on the way out. 

“So…” You say. 

“We need to figure out the best way to get Karkat up to speed as quickly as possible.” Joel says. “And we’ll need to work together on that.”

Karkat looks down. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault!” you insist. “You’re doing great!” 

“I can’t complain about your progress thus far,” Uncle Joel amits, “But we weren’t expecting you to encounter other Cyrodilic nobles yet.” 

“Yeah,” you say, “I mean, sure, we technically invite Liv to every festival, and she always invites us, but that’s just a formality. More of a ‘you’re welcome if you want to show up, but we know you’re not gonna.’ kinda deal.” 

“Indeed,” Dad says. “John, I need your honest opinion. I know you interacted with several Jarls in Skyrim. How did he do with them?” 

“I mean…” you shift your weight uncomfortably, thinking of how to word it. “It seems like things are less formal in Skyrim. He didn’t treat them much differently than anyone else, but it seemed like that was fine.”

“‘Fine’ may not be good enough.”  

Karkat takes a deep breath, straightens his posture, and makes a valiant attempt to put on a proper accent. “Once I realized that John was more proficient in dealing with those of standing, I allowed him to take the lead in those conversations. I… do admit that at times my temper gets the better of me, however.” 

“Hey, good more formal word choice!” You say. 

He smirks at you. “I’m rather well read, as you recall. My vocabulary has never been lacking.” He drops the accent. “It’s just a lot of times the best word for the situation is ‘fuck.’”

You can’t help but laugh at that. You catch a smile on Dad’s face, but Uncle Joel is a bit more serious. 

“True as all that might be,” your uncle says, “I think your accent is unlikely to be solid enough by her arrival next Morndas. It may be better to embrace sounding a bit foreign and focus on learning some of the quirks of Cyrodilic etiquette. It's not uncommon for people of other provinces to take up positions in various courts, and while many never pick up the accent, the manners are indispensable." 

Karkat purses his lips for a moment before speaking again, this time with a much harsher accent, identical to his father’s. “If… If you think it would help, I can do this one much more reliably.” 

“Yes, that may be for the best. I don’t…” Uncle Joel pauses for a moment. “This is your home, and I don’t want you to feel exoticized, but we cannot risk you making an enemy of the countess. And, though we should not lean into it too much, playing the foreign card may serve to have her accept some things that aren’t at a fully noble level.” 

“No, I get it.” Karkat runs his fingers through his hair and goes back to his normal accent. “So what do we do now?” 

“Study, same as before, just a slightly different topic.” Dad turns to you. “John, walk him through as much of what he has to know as possible. Show him the actions, and tell him what you know about the Countess and her family. Tomorrow we’ll meet to go over everything. Hopefully by then we’ll have come up with a plan.” 

“Got it,” You say. 

“We won’t let you down,” Karkat adds, looking directly at your uncle. 

He smiles. “I’ll hold you to it.” 

Karkat nods sharply. Then, with an air of determination, he turns on his heel and leaves. 

—

“Okay,” John says, putting a closed book over the piece of paper you’ve been staring at. “So to review…” 

You sigh and lean back in your chair. “Yes?” 

“How long has Liv’s family been running Chorrol?”

“Six hundred years. Ish.”

“But?” 

“But not always in a direct line. Just before the Oblivion Crisis the count died and his only living child was married to the Count of Leyawiin. After the Crisis, that daughter tried to claim the County, but her… cousin? I can just say cousin right? Or do you always have to specify with you people?” 

“In this case cousin is fine. Keep going.”

“Okay, her cousin sued, saying that there was no way for the Countess of Leyawiin to manage counties on opposite side of Cyrodiil, but because the Imperial line just ended everyone was way too busy to deal with it, so the Countess’ mom stayed in charge until she died, then the cousin just kinda walked in and took over. Uh… no one stopped him because…  the Count and Countess couldn’t leave the city of Leyawiin because they were fighting Bravil and basically independent at the time. By the time the case actually made it to court, it had been like 20 years or something and everyone was just like, ‘yeah, just let the Valgas keep it.’ The Carros are still bitter about this but have way bigger problems now. Um…” You rack your brain, trying to think of any other details but you’re coming up blank.

“Remember any of the names?” 

“...No.” you admit. 

“Arriana Valga was the married countess, Alessia and Marius Carro, and the cousin was Horatio Valga.”

“Right, fuck, I kept getting Arriana and Alessia backwards.” 

John shrugs. “I mean, the good news is that you can almost always get away with referring to someone using either title-holding or title-family. That reminds me, what do you do when the Countess gets here?” 

“Cry.” 

He laughs. “No, but really.” 

This one you’ve got. It was the first thing he drilled into you. “She’s going to be introduced by a page. When she enters, your dad and uncle say hi first, then you, and then it’s my turn.” You stand and bow. Then in your best Imperial accent you say, “‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Countess Valga.’ Then if she offers me a hand I have to kiss it, because humans are gross like that.” John snorts. “If she has more shit she wants to say, I respond politely, then we get out of the way and let Jake go.”

“Good! And knowing her, she’ll probably ask you to call her Liv. And after that, remember-” 

“'I'll be there all night running interference.'” You say at the same time as he does. “I know. You’ve told me constantly the entire fucking time we’ve been cooped up here doing this!” 

“Right,” He says, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’m just worried.”

“Why the fuck are you worried?" You snap, "I’m the only one who’s really liable to make a skeever out of himself.”

John frowns. “I know I’ve told you this too. Even ignoring the fact that whatever you do is going to reflect on the whole family, Liv needs to know you can behave.” 

“Why does everyone here talk about me like that?” You demand. “I’m not a dog or a child!” 

“I know that! Dogs and kids have way more time to learn this shit!” He puts his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Karkat.” He says, after a moment. “I just wish I knew why she was doing this.” 

“I just assume she wants me to fail.” 

“That’s not like her. Not like the Liv I knew, anyway.” 

“People change.” 

“I know.” 

The two of you sit in silence for a moment. Crows caw in the courtyard and bits of dust dance in the slits of late-afternoon light coming through the narrow windows. You reach through the sunbeam bisecting your little table to cup John’s hand in yours. He looks up at you, sad and confused and it hurts. 

“Thank you,” You say. “For everything you’re doing for me.” 

He blinks at you and you pull your hand away. 

“So the cousin thing,” You say, changing the subject, “I’m still pretty sure you Cyrodilic nobles invented the concept of ‘third cousins’ and being ‘removed’ to either obfuscate or put checks on the ridiculous amounts of inbreeding the counts and emperors are wont to do, especially since arranging marriages is one of the only times it comes up. That and inheritance laws. But since inheritance is one of those reasons, why didn’t it matter with the Valgas?” 

“Oh, because it was an illegal seizure anyway. Chorrol should have gone to Alessia and her children by law. But I think they were first cousins anyway, which makes the claim stronger.”

“Is he the cousin that would have gotten it if Alessia died?” 

“I think so? I’d have to double check. The rest of the extended family wasn’t that important and it’s been 200 years.” 

You laugh. “See, you say that, but Dunmer politics you can see single family heads last that long.” 

John pauses for a moment and looks thoughtful. “Huh, you know, I wonder if that’s why you guys don’t need to track extended cousins. Because it’s just like you can’t marry anyone under the same family head, or under the same head as anyone who married into your branch of the family, right? But if that covers like ten generations-”

“Nords also don’t have second cousins.” you point out, “They just have kin, which is just ‘as far back as people can remember.’” 

“Yeah, but they settle inheritance disputes by duels,” he counters.

“Keep telling yourself that and just be glad you got born into the ‘let’s get fresh blood in here’ noble family.” 

“And yet we’re pretty sure everything wrong with me comes from Dad’s side and not the Skingrad side.” 

“Psh, Skingrad’s also new money. The last Hassildor only died 150 years ago. The Lafirias were wine merchants before then. Even with your scandalously short generations, a century isn’t enough time to get well and truly inbred unless you’re really working at it.” 

“Oh, so remembering details is easy if it’s to talk shit about my mom,” John teases, sticking his tongue out at you. 

“Not your mom in particular, humans in general and specifically Imperials as a whole. Besides, I never said that being from a merchant family was bad. If you are, then you are talking shit about both of our moms, and, while mine does kind of deserve it, I thought we’d agreed after meeting her that she could have been a lot worse.”

“Divines and Daedra, I love you,” John says with a laugh. 

There’s a knock at the door. 

“Come in,” John calls out. 

The younger page, Quinn you think his name is, opens the door. “I was sent to tell you Lady Jade and Sir Dave have arrived.” 

“‘Sir?’ Who’d he get to knight him?” You mutter.

John ignores you. “Thanks for letting us know, Quinn, we’ll be right down.” 

Quinn bows and leaves. 

“You’re not gonna make me dress up in the name of practice, are you?” You ask. 

“I won’t encourage Dave and Jade to give you more shit than is necessary.” 

You put the proper affectation back on. “You are too kind, my lord.” 

“Pfft, never speak to me that way again.” 

“You got it, dickwad,” you say, standing up.

“That’s my Karkat.” He gives you a quick kiss before leaving your chambers.

You follow him down the stairs. He pauses for just a moment, clearly trying to figure out where everyone is, then takes off towards the east wing. You hustle just to keep up. Thankfully he keeps it below a run.  

Dave and Jade are in the study, talking to John’s father and uncle. John runs right up and embraces his cousin the same way he did in Whiterun. Jade looks exactly like you remember her, but there’s something different about Dave. Part of it is probably clothing. He’s ditched the heavy cloak and thick Nord-style shirt and pants. He still wears a red laced-up vest, but even that looks to be lighter in terms of both material type and color. He’s switched to a white linen shirt and gray pants, rather than the black he wore before. It’s a nice change, you think. It makes him look less washed out. …Or is that it? You remember with a start that his eyes used to glow. Then you realize he’s breathing. 

“You’re alive.” You say.

Dave smirks, just barely showing off normal-sized canines. “You’re damn right.” 

John stiffens and looks with concern at his dad. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I told them ages ago,” Jade says. 

“Okay good.” John returns to your side. 

“Yeah, and I already got read the riot act from Jade’s folks in the capital.” Dave adds. “Her dad did not appreciate my observation that while the age gap is pretty significant it’s now literally impossible for me to meet girls my age without necromancy.” 

“I think he mostly didn’t like the one-two punch of you being biologically eighteen,” Jade says with a giggle. 

He shrugs. “Sorry, I can’t help being too old and too young for anyone I’ve been interested in for the last few millennia.” 

“Anyway,” John’s father says. “I was just telling them about the Countess’ upcoming visit.”

“It will not be a problem,” Dave says, his accent flawless. “It’s been quite a while, but from what Jade tells me, the rules have not changed too much in the last few centuries.” 

“...That’s not fucking fair.” You grumble. 

John takes your hand gently. 

“I’d been meaning to ask, though,” Dave continues. “Is the dancing still mandatory?” 

“More or less, unless you’d like to play the part of an old man like me,” 

“Yeah, no, I’d rather keep the ex-vampire thing within the family.” 

“Reasonable. Now,” Lord Egbert fixes his eyes on you and John. “How is Karkat’s progress?” 

John’s face lights up. “Great! I think he’s just about got the trivia and manners all down. Right?” 

“Oh… Yeah.” You say. 

John’s father and uncle give you identical skeptical looks. 

“I know enough that she’ll know I did the research, even if I don’t have all the details.” Their expressions do not change. “I’ve only had four days!”

“Fair enough.” John’s dad says. “I’m certain she’ll take it into account. We just also want to wow her as much as possible.” 

“Right.” Good enough isn’t good enough. You get it. Fuck. 

“Do you think there will be time to practice dancing soon?” John asks. “I know everyone else is also busy preparing for the feast, but I am so rusty and haven’t been able to teach Karkat at all.” 

“Why don’t we work together?” Jade suggests. “If you still remember how to play the harpsichord we can trade off playing and teaching! Dave is about 400 years behind on dance moves.”

Dave shrugs.  

“It’s more I don’t think I know enough to teach,” John admits sheepishly. "I haven't been to a real feast since Liv's wedding." 

“Speak to Jake,” Joel says. “The other day he told me that most of our apprentices, even some of those that come from noble families, need a dance lesson. Besides, I’m sure he’d like the excuse to spend some time with the rest of the family. With the three of you working together, I’m sure you’ll get it.” 

—

The next week goes by in a blur. Whether it's dancing or studying, you’re exhausted by the end of the day. None of this comes naturally to you; not the endless parade of names and dates, not the imperial dancing with its fancy footwork and next to no movement in the arms or hips, and certainly not holding your tongue and following the strict, hierarchical code of manners. John tells you you’re doing good, but you understood his uncle loud and clear. Good enough isn’t going to be good enough. And, fuck, it feels like the literal children are doing better than you, much less Dave. He almost makes the imperial dancing look good. Almost. 

You’re just… you’re tired. You don’t know how much more you have to give. You just want to spend time with John. Preferably doing something other than memorizing a bunch of dead humans’ names or looking like some sort of mentally deficient ground bird as you attempt to dance. You try not to fall asleep too quickly every night so that you can have some time with him, but inevitably you fail, drifting off what feels like mere moments after you lay down. Then, the next thing you know it's the day of the Countess' arrival. 

You frantically leaf through books, trying to pick up on something, anything, you've missed. But as soon as you look away from the pages, the facts slip from your mind like fish from a cracked basket.

John comes back from the kitchen with your normal breakfast. As fall has set in, the fruits you enjoyed earlier  He smiles at you softly, if a bit sadly. 

"Here." He says.

You ignore the food and look back down at the book.

"You should eat." 

You give a noncommittal grunt. 

He puts one of the scones on a small plate and shoves it in front of you. You give him an annoyed look, and he responds by raising his eyebrows and tipping his head down in a clear, “you’re going to do it, though.” You sigh, roll your eyes, and begin picking at the scone. It’s just not worth fighting over. 

"So,” he says, grabbing an apple, “Today, Dad is entrusting me with doing some rounds through the domain, making sure everything is ready for Liv's arrival."

"Good for you,” you reply flatly. 

"You should come with me."

"I can't. I'm studying." 

He sighs. "Karkat."

"What?"

"Are you even absorbing anything? This is like the tenth time you've read that book." 

You freeze and look back up at him, feeling the guilt on your face. "But the banquet…" 

He grins. "Come on, I'll be sure to get us back in plenty of time to make you all pretty."

You scoff. "There's not enough time in the world for that." 

"Shut up. You haven't seen you in the good clothes. Besides, what if she asks what you think of the barony?" 

"That's… not a bad point…" you concede.

"Come on, Karkat. Let's go out, ride around the countryside. I know it's not as pretty now that the wheat has all been harvested but it's a lot cooler out now. We can talk, ride together. Just like before."

Your hand reflexively goes to where your ring hangs under your shirt. You smile in spite of yourself as you finally meet his gaze.

"Let's do it." 

You put on your vest, grab a light cloak and one of the apples, and then the two of you are off. 

As you descend the castle, you see the Witches Festival fair beginning to take shape in the town square. A couple dozen people are hard at work assembling stalls and hanging banners from the buildings. In a manner of hours, practically everyone in the barony will be down there singing and dancing, trying the sweets and rich pumpkin and sweet potato dishes, with no expectation of decorum or stratification. 

From what John said, in a normal year, everyone from the castle would be right there with the common folk. Before the Countess' letter came he'd excitedly told you about everything he wanted you to try: the sweets, the breads, the games and folk dances. After the letter he promised you next year. You just hope you can give him the chance to make good on that. 

By the time you reach the stables, Shadowmere and Mouse are already ready to go. Demeem, the stablehand, is mucking out the adjacent stall. He’s a solid man, almost as tall as John and even broader with a wide flat nose and the longest dreadlocks you’ve ever seen, which he keeps tied back with a silk ribbon. His size makes him imposing, but he might be the gentlest man you’ve ever met and the horses love him for it. 

He pauses for a moment, tucking a loc that had come loose from his ponytail behind his ear and smiles at the two of you. 

"Mornin'" he says. "Got your horses ready. This is where we'll be putting Countess Chorrol's when she gets here. And we got plenty of space for her carriage on the end. Should be able to pull it in straight. Couple of septims and a handful of the village lads were more than happy to help." 

"Perfect," John says. 

He takes both horses’ reins and leads them outside. It takes a mere moment for the two of you to get into your respective saddles, and then you’re off at a reasonable trot. Though it’s been nearly a month since you’ve ridden, keeping up with John is nearly effortless. Gods, when did that happen? It wasn’t long ago that even being near a horse scared you. 

John notices and gets a wicked gleam in his eye. “Well,” he says, “First we gotta make sure that the road’s in good shape between here and the border.” 

“That’s, what, a little over two miles?” 

He nods. “Just about. So it’ll take about fifteen minutes at a trot.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, not sure where this is going. “Right.” 

“See you when you catch up!” He kicks Shadowmere into a full gallop and tears off down the dusty road. 

You curse after him and urge Mouse forward. She’s startled and confused, but that makes it easier to urge her into a sprint. From there it’s a race. You haven’t gone further than the little lake at the end of the village since you got here, and John probably knows the way in his sleep. Fortunately, most of the time the local masons have nothing else to do but maintain this stretch of road, and the horses naturally follow the easier path, rather than attempt to cross the fields. Shadowmere is bigger, with a longer stride and the power of Sithis, and he had a head start. But Mouse is slight for a Skyrim horse, and John is a lot heavier than you are. As the fields get rougher and more overgrown, the gap between you and John starts to shrink as Shadowmere starts to tire. 

But John knows you’re coming, and the road isn’t that wide. He keeps glancing over his shoulder, nudging Shadowmere left or right so you can’t get around. 

“That’s a dirty fucking trick, Egbert!” 

He flips you off over his shoulder. 

You growl at him, trying to figure out what to do. Fuck, you wish you knew some kind of magic that didn’t involve setting shit on fire. You should have Jake teach you a calm spell. But then you see your chance: the road curves slightly just up ahead. You grin and hold tight to Mouse’s reins, directing her up over the edge and straight across the scraggly grass. 

“Eat shit, asshole!” You shout at your fiance as you pass him. 

By the time you finish cutting the curve, he has to pull back or he’d plow right into Mouse’s ass. But unlike John, you’re a decent person and keep Mouse galloping at top speed. Or as close to it as she can do uphill after two miles. You’re approaching the border marker rapidly, and a quick glance over your shoulder proves you’re leaving John in the dust. 

You crest the top of the hill and cross the border with several lengths between you and John. The horses startle a murder of crows, which fly off a hundred feet or so before settling back down into a freshly-cleared field. 

“Who’s the better rider now?” You demand as John catches up. 

“Heh, I’ll remember that the next time you ask me to top,” John teases as he slides off of Shadowmere. 

“Hardy fucking har,” you say sarcastically, hopping down. “I won and you know it.”

“Still fun, though,” John replies, grinning. He pats Shadowmere’s heaving flank. “We should probably let these guys have a little rest now, though. Thanks for being a good sport, buddy!” 

Shadowmere shakes his head, you assume because horses are physiologically incapable of rolling their eyes. You take an apple from your pouch and slice off a large chunk to give Mouse as a treat. After what John put you both through, she deserves something for her trouble. That gets Shadowmere’s attention and so you have to give him the rest. You wonder briefly if he misses being your only horse before you decide that’s stupid. Demonic or not, he’s still a horse. 

John sits on a nearby stone fence and looks down into the valley below. You walk over to him and follow his gaze. From here, you can see what you know to be Chorrol’s walls rising in the distance and the Great Forest beyond. The city is scarcely more than a little gray lump sitting atop a golden and brown quilt of fields, woods, and farms, stitched together with stone or wood fences and embellished with cottages and hamlets. The Black Road gently curves down towards the city, disappearing every now and then below the cover of gold and burgundy trees. You know there are guard patrols and carts down there. The Countess is on her way in the carriage right now. But all of those people and horses are nothing more than specks against the gray stone. You’re alone in the middle of the countryside with John, and it gives you more of a pang of nostalgia than you thought it would. You take a seat on the three-foot wall next to him. 

“Someday,” He murmurs softly. 

“Huh?” 

He clears his throat. “Dad says that when he was growing up, our lands looked like that too. I mean, not so much in the west. That was still mostly shepherds. But this side was all farms. Did Uncle Joel tell you that?” 

“Right, but then the war happened.” 

“Yeah, and the damage and Imperial relocations cost us two-thirds of our people.” He sighs and looks down at his lap. “I know Dad regrets not fighting harder, but what could he do? He’d already lost most of the family.” He pauses, then looks out at the valley with renewed determination on his face. “But we’ll get there. I know we will.” 

You take his hand. “We will,” you affirm. “You’ve got a solid start. The population’s gone back up about 50% in thirty years, right? So don’t do anything stupid and even with your evanescent human lifespan you might live to see it.” 

He nudges you with his elbow. “See? I told you, stuff is sticking. You just need to get out of your head.” 

You scowl, “I need to work on my insults. They aren’t doing a damn thing anymore.” 

“When have they ever bugged me?” He laughs. “As soon as I realized you don’t really mean them-” 

“I’ll show you meaning it!” You growl, shoving him backwards. 

He wraps his arms around you, bringing you down with him. The two of you land on your shoulders, laughing and holding each other. John leans in to kiss you, and in that moment you remember what it is to be young and in love. 

When you return to the castle you’re in much higher spirits. John cheerfully reports to his father that their holdings are in the best shape they can be at this time of year. The two of you do a little work helping get the festival ready, and the innkeeper (Mrs. Dralentius, John helpfully supplied) gave you each a couple of candies in thanks. 

By that point it’s up to get ready. You and John wash and shave, then John does your hair. He just starts with water and a comb, but then he starts to work in a tiny bit of this thick cream called Uhigris. You didn’t quite believe him when he said it’d make your hair manageable but it does. Your hair isn’t flat, not really, but it weighs the curls down and defines them better, makes them look intentional. For the first time, you briefly consider growing your hair out. There were so many lice problems in the Gray Quarter you’d never dreamed of it as a child, and then when you’d moved out you’d assumed your hair was too unruly but maybe… 

Then you have to move out of the way so John can have the mirror to plaster down his perennial cowlick. Instead, you go to the wardrobe and pull out the small cedar chest John gave you. You pull out the clothes and check them over carefully, expecting some horrible stain or tear to have appeared somehow. But no, they’re as perfect as ever, which is probably why it feels so wrong to pull them on. You’ve been sleeping on silk for almost two months now, but somehow having it as a shirt feels different. The way the outfit is cut to be looser around the shoulders and thighs and tighter around the forearms and calves makes it feel like it’s designed for someone else, in spite of the fact that it’s bespoke and that every transition hits the exact right spot on your body. You look down at yourself. This outfit is a costume, and an utterly unconvincing one. You might as well be down with the peasants dressed as a lich or something. At least boots are just boots. 

John laces his doublet shut as quickly and easily as breathing and goes to grab his sword and its formal sheath. After he places the weapon on his belt, he looks up at the mirror and smiles. 

“Gods,” he breathes, “Look at us.” 

You do and… he’s right. John is, of course, radiant. The deep blue doublet brings out his eyes and the gold of the embroidery pops. The paler blue silk of his shirt contrasts perfectly with his dark skin, making him look as warm as his personality and his embrace. Though his body will always be more enticing with less on it, the doublet helps emphasize his shape; the breadth of his chest, the strength of his core. The contrast of looseness and tightness in the shirt and pants gives you just a taste of the muscles hiding below. 

But it’s not just John. You… you look like you belong. Your red doublet and black shirt complement your natural colors the same way John’s outfit does for him, and play perfectly with the silver accents. You don’t understand how the same cut of clothing can make you look as lithe and ephemeral as it makes John robust, but it doesn’t matter. It works. 

He offers you his hand and you take it in the graceful, dainty way you’d been taught over the last few days, barely cupping it. 

“What’d I tell you? You hadn’t seen you in the good clothes.” 

You pull the fancy accent on and dressed like this, looking like this, it somehow feels right. “I do not recall that conversation, my darling. But if I did, I’d probably point out that neither of us had seen me with my hair under control.” 

He laughs and then puts on his proper accent, “Well then, what say you we bring you to your first official event as a member of House Egbert?” 

“I say that sounds splendid.” 

Hand in hand, the two of you descend down the stairs without a single misstep. 

The rest of the family waits for you in the main hall. The tables have been moved, arranged into a large U shape with the opening facing towards the entrance. A couple of musicians who you think normally play in the tavern glance up for a moment when you enter before turning back to each other and speaking softly. 

The men in John’s family wear similar styles of outfits to yours, but none of them match quite the way you and John do. Jake’s is the most similar, but rather than flare out at the hip, his green doublet ends and he wears separate pantaloons. On the other end of the spectrum, John’s father and Uncle have much looser, almost robe-like vests that stop at the mid-thigh. You don’t know enough to say whether that’s an older style, or just viewed as more appropriate for men their age. For the first time, you see John’s father wearing his badge of office, a golden circlet with a large black gem in the center, and carvings reminiscent of Daedric script around it. 

Jade’s dress has a similar silhouette to her daily dresses, except she also has the puffed sleeves, but has several different shades of green silk woven into a plant-like pattern. It’s also cut much lower than her other dresses, and you think her purplish-brown bodice might be laced tighter than usual. You make a valiant effort to stop noticing that and the low gold and emerald necklace she wears. She claps and grins when she sees the two of you. 

“Aw! You guys look so cute together!” 

You feel yourself begin to blush. 

And John, seeming to feel every bit as awkward says, “Thanks, um, you too.” 

She laughs and loops her arm around Dave’s. If anyone looks out of place here, it’s him. His clothes are closer to a Nordic style, with most of his body covered in a long quilted coat made of burgundy velvet. 

“Aren’t you hot in that?” You ask. 

He winks, “You’re damn right I am.” Jade elbows him. “For real though, I’m fine.” He reaches down the neck of his shirt and fishes out a silver pendant pulsing with a faint blue light. “Amulet of ice.” 

“I need one of those for next summer,” you say. 

“400 septims.” 

“He’ll do it for free,” Jade says, elbowing him again. 

“Listen, if I do one for him, I’ll have to do one for everyone.” 

“Make it a wedding present.” 

“Anyway, what’s the word on Liv?” John asks. 

“She arrived very shortly after you returned.” John’s father says. “I showed her to the room she’ll be staying in. I believe she is preparing as we speak. She knows supper will be ready in about an hour and a half, but I do not know exactly when she’ll choose to join us.” 

“So, what?” You ask, dropping John’s hand. “We just wait here?” 

“Yep!” John says. “I mean, Dad’s the host, but none of us can really tell her what to do. The food’s gonna be ready when it’s ready, but other than that we’re on her time table.” 

“Right.” 

“Please do try to hide your disgust with the hierarchy while our liege is present,” Joel says. 

“Huh?” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you have an incredibly emotive face, Karkat?” 

“Shit. Uh, sorry.” You try to put a blank expression on your face. 

John chuckles. “Now you look like you have gas.” 

“...Man we’re so fucked.” You murmur in Dunmeri. 

“Hey, don’t worry. It’s gonna be fine. Remember, just stay next to me, follow my lead, and now… I don’t know, think about puppies or something?” 

“I’m not a dog person,” you remind him. 

“Yeah, that’s Jade.” 

“Hey!” she calls out, but then she grins. You can practically see the wolf tail wagging. 

At that point the door opens. Truss, the older page, enters and clears his throat. “Introducing her Excellency, Olivia Valga, Countess of Chorrol.” 

John takes your hand less delicately than before as the whole family, with the exception of Joel, rushes into position in a receiving line. The bards quickly begin playing softly. Once you’re all ready to go, Truss opens the door. An Imperial woman glides in. She wears a dark blue velvet dress with silver details. White lace rims every hem, and her arms are heavy with bracelets and rings. Her long black hair is intricately woven into a single massive braid with several baubles inserted. Atop her head she wears a large silver circlet with a sapphire half the size of your fist embedded in it. Behind her walks an Argonian wearing a nice cream gown and veils over her fins. She almost looks familiar. You wonder if any of her relatives work at the Assemblage. Not that you’re likely to get a chance to ask. While the Countess is around, she’s invisible. 

“Welcome, my Countess,” John’s dad says. He takes her hand and kisses it. 

“Oh Jack, there’s no need for such formalities with me. You’ve always been like an uncle to me. I’m glad to finally sample your hospitality.” 

“We’re delighted to have you. I hope you can forgive my brother for not standing to greet you. At seventy, getting around with one leg is enough of a challenge for him.” 

“Of course, I understand we all have our limitations” She nods in his direction. 

“Naturally, you remember my son…” 

“How could I ever forget? It’s wonderful to see you again, John.” 

“The feeling is mutual, Liv.” John also takes her hand and kisses it. 

“You’ll need to tell me all about your trip to Skyrim! I understand it was quite exciting! And certainly rather rewarding.” She turns her gaze to you. “After all, what Egbertian adventure is complete without bringing home a spouse?” 

He chuckles. It’s not the carefree laugh you’ve learned to love, but a lot more restrained, measured. “What adventure indeed? This is my betrothed, Karkat Vantas. I asked for his hand this spring. As is tradition for us, he’s not a noble, but he and his family are well-connected with the Dunmer of Skyrim, and I’ve been teaching him our ways.” 

“It’s delightful to meet you, Karkat.” 

“Likewise,” Your voice comes out in your attempt at a proper accent, rather than your father’s. Shit. Fuck. Well, we’re rolling with it now. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Countess Valga. John has told me so much about you.” 

“All good things, I hope.” 

“Of course.” 

She offers you her hand and you kiss it as you were taught. “And please,” she says, “anyone so close to my favorite page can call me Liv.” 

“Liv, please, it’s been eleven years since I left,” John says. 

“I know, but you were so darling! I think it may be because you were the right age to really look up to me.”

You don’t know what to do now. Everyone’s been introducing the next person down the line but… 

“Jake,” she says, turning her attention to him. Thank Stendarr. “It’s nice to see you again. How are this year’s new apprentices?” 

“Oh, every class has its quirks. But we’ll get them in tip-top shape in no time!” 

“I have every faith in you and your family. You know, my youngest brother turns fourteen next year. I understand you must be objective in selecting apprentices, but perhaps we can speak about his prospects.” 

“I’d be happy to. Though I’d prefer to talk to the lad too, find out his ambitions and see how he handles himself.” 

“Lovely, we’ll set up a meeting. I’m sure my mother will have an opinion as well.” 

“And your sister?” She asks, looking at Jade.

“Oh, I’m still getting my feet back under me. I only arrived home last week.” 

“Now, I haven’t heard as much about your escapades, Jade.” 

“Well, my adventure didn’t involve dragons.” 

“I see it also involved finding a man, though.” 

“It did! This is Dave, he was instrumental in helping me avoid a proxy civil war in High Rock.” 

“Pleased to meet you,” Dave says with his stupid flawless fancy accent. He bows deeply.

“High Rock? Are you a Breton?” She asks. 

“No,” he says, “I’m a Nord.” 

“Indeed?” 

“It’s a long, sad story.” 

“I’d love to hear it.” 

“Well,” He shifts uncomfortably. “Perhaps suffice it to say my father was a high elf, and my mother was… less than thrilled.” 

“Ah. Yes, say no more. I should have realized, such things often happen in the wake of wars and occupations.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Well,” John’s father says, clapping his hands together, “The Apprentices will be joining us for supper, but we still have a bit of time before that. Now, let’s have some wine, enjoy each other’s company, or perhaps the gardens? They’re starting to be a bit sad, but fall has its own beauty, don’t you think?”

One of the servants, a teenager named Theocus, comes out with a tray laden with pewter wine goblets. John’s father takes the lead, talking about the vintage and this year’s grape harvest and the status of the vineyards here and blah, blah, blah. But still, you’re grateful. If he’s talking, you have less of a chance to say the wrong thing. You need to write to your father. He’ll want to know you’ve overcome your medical inability to shut the fuck up. 

Unfortunately, it gives you time to analyze and over analyze everything you do: your stance, your facial expressions, if you’re drinking enough, if you’re drinking too much. You keep looking to John, and every now and then he gives you a little reassurance: a touch of the arm or a little smile. Maybe being his arm candy isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. At least you can feel confident you look the part. 

You successfully manage to answer a couple of questions when they’re directed at you, mostly about your opinions of the barony, adjusting to Cyrodiil, that type of stuff. You have your canned responses ready, try to make them sound as good as possible. But, good to his word, John takes the lead and directs the conversation whenever it turns to the two of you. Sometimes he’ll prompt you for your input, give you the chance to respond, and then take back over. 

Fortunately (and you’re still not entirely sure how rigid the seating rules are, other than “most important people near the middle”), once you’re seated you have John, his uncle, and his father between yourself and the countess. Even with the music and multiple conversations reverberating through the high-ceilinged stone hall, you’re positive you could make yourself heard, but you have no desire to do so. Instead, you and John mostly wind up talking to Gitmel (who’s technically at the next table, but whatever) about her ongoing research with Ayleid stones. Most of the stuff she talks about with resonances goes over your head, but it’s at least mildly interesting to compare the Aylied with the Dwemer. 

It’s almost… pleasant? Maybe the wine is starting to get to you. It’ll be hard to tell until you stand. The food certainly helps. Marcellia prepares a veritable banquet for everyone on a normal day, and tonight she’s gone all out. You understand now why she called so many of hte apprentices in to help her in the kitchens. She’s made an entire young pig, a capon, several pigeons or some other small birds, and at least three kinds of mutton, on top of intricately woven breads, miscellaneous pies, and more local vegetables than you can hope to identify. She’s even put together a multi-tiered aspic. (You try a little bit and though you’re not a fan you at least appreciate it’s a fancy thing that took a lot of work.) 

But all too soon, dinner is finished. The moment the last of the dishes are brought back to the kitchen, the bards start playing just a little bit louder and a little bit more intensely. A couple of the teenage apprentices are the first to get up and start dancing, then Jade drags Dave out onto the floor. Jake, who had been sitting beside the countess, says something to her and then the two of them are off. You look at John nervously. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “Yanno, if you were actually any good I’d just be dragging you down.” 

You can’t help but laugh at that, as does John’s uncle. Fuck, though, some of the kids are good. Their steps are precise, so fast, and they complement each other perfectly. You sincerely hope these are younger noble children, ones who served as pages or maids only to learn that their real choices in life were legion officer or priest. Honestly, you’ve spent such little time with the apprentices you’re not sure. 

John stands and offers you his hand the way he did in your chambers a few short hours ago. With a deep breath you take it and rise to your feet. Glancing about the hall, you see that no one is really looking at you very closely. Maybe John’s dad and uncle, but everyone dancing is far more interested in their partners. 

It still doesn’t quite feel right, but you have to admit it makes a little more sense in the doublet. Helps you keep your spine straight, anyway. And the softer soles of the fine boots make it easier to keep your steps light and dainty. You hold your own for the first few songs, the old-fashioned processionals and traditional Cyrodilic banquet dances. You’re not great, but neither is John. You’re not the best judge, but either Jake and the countess or those two apprentices who won’t admit they’re dating are probably winning. But you haven’t been told you’re offensively bad, anyway. 

Then the countess breaks away from Jake for a moment and approaches the bards. From where you are you can’t hear what she says, but the music pauses for a moment. The bard playing the harpsichord changes the tempo from a 4/4 to a 3/4. As the flute and lyre rejoin, you realize you recognize the style, light and bouncy and elven. This is an Altmer dance, the one you could never quite get right. You take a step away from John.

“Are you thirsty?” You ask. “I’m thirsty. I’m going to get some wine.” 

“I’m good,” he says.

You give him a sharp look. 

“I’ll come with you, though. Not a bad idea to take a breather.” 

Before you’re even back to your seat, Theocus is there with a pitcher of wine. 

“Take your time,” you murmur to him. 

You’re not the only one who’s bowed out. Most of the apprentices are taking the opportunity to have more water, and many of them are chatting amongst themselves. But that gives the remaining four couples more space. There’s two pairs of apprentices, including the two that started the night, Dave and Jade, and Jake and the countess. 

You hate to admit it, but when done correctly the dance is beautiful. The expressive arm movements almost remind you of Dunmeri folk dances, but combined with the same light stepping of Cyrodilic dances. The couples are arranged in a square, and they begin to switch partners, the leads breaking away to circle one another, then the followers. But they eventually always return to the same base corner, walking in a circle with their palms gently touching. 

When the first song ends, the pair of apprentices that are totally dating go down and join in, apparently gathering up their nerve. There’s a bit of a shakeup in partners, as Dave steps away. You watch him tap his chest, where you know his amulet is hidden, and walk out of the hall. Jade approaches her brother to take his place, and the countess gracefully nods her head and comes back to the table. She takes a few sips of her wine, and then locks her eyes on you. 

She approaches smiling. “John, my dear, you look a bit sad.” 

“Oh, not at all. Just watching.” 

“Do you remember the choreography my father had everyone learn ahead of my wedding?” 

“I think so. It’s been a while, though.” 

“Want to give it a try?” 

He gives you a worried glance. 

You plaster a fake smile on your face. “Go have fun. I’ll be here.” 

“Alright.” He gives your shoulder a little squeeze and then takes her hand the way he took yours. 

The two walk away, speaking too softly for you to hear. She leads him to the center of the room and everyone else seems to give them a little more space. It seems like everyone is watching them. John notices and looks around nervously.

You can almost hear her words when she looks at him gently. “Don’t pay attention to them. Eyes on me.” 

Your stomach clenches and you down your wine. Theocus kind of gives you a look. You glance over to John and the countess. Their eyes are locked, hands lightly touching as they start their dance. Theocus looks at them, back to you, and then shrugs as if to say “fair enough” and refills your goblet. 

The apprentices have all gone to the benches along the edge of the hall, just leavine Jake and Jade and John and the Countess. The choreography is a lot more complicated, and requires all four to coordinate. Each of them stumbles at least once, but it doesn’t seem to matter. They’re smiling and laughing and it ties your stomach in knots. 

When the first song ends. 

The countess laughs and says “Let’s try that again.”

The other three agree. The music starts back up and they try again, this time more assured. Jade is doing this with her brother. It doesn’t mean anything. You know it doesn’t mean anything. And yet… Watching John and the countess look at each other like that. 

It’s around then that Dave comes back. He watches the four of them for a moment, then looks up at you. He walks up along the edge of the hall, staying out of the dancers’ way. 

He plops down in John’s chair. “You know,” he says. “During dinner Liv spent a lot of time asking about the local flavor in Skyrim.” 

“So what? You think they’re just doing that to talk about our trip?” 

“Nah, they’re not talking. I’m thinking that this is 3/4 time. So,” he bows and puts the accent back on, “May I have this dance, Mr. Vantas?” 

You give him a wicked grin. “Oh, Sir Strider, I’d be delighted.” 

He takes you by the hand for real and says, “You can lead since you’re taller.”

Having watched the dance once, you know about how far they go, and that most of the U between the tables is safe. You put your hand on Dave’s hip, he puts his on your shoulder and gives you a twitch of a smile. As you begin to dance with Dave, it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt all night. The upper arms of your shirt are a little tight for this, especially when you help Dave do a spin or two, but you actually feel like you know what you’re fucking doing. 

Before you know it, the song ends. You and Dave stand there, together for a moment, and then over his shoulder you notice everyone looking at the two of you. You turn to look at John and the Countess, and they’re both staring at you utterly gobsmacked. 

You saunter up to the two of them and clear your throat. “Dave told me you were interested in knowing more about Skyrim culture, and thought you might want a demonstration.” 

The countess collects herself quickly. “That was… certainly something. I suppose that’s a folk dance?” 

“As I understand the Jarls do it as well,” John says, “Not that there was much time to attend proper banquets during a war.” 

“Fascinating. Perhaps I should arrange a visit someday,” The countess says. “It is a rather charming dance.” She looks up at John. “So that I’m prepared for such an event, do you think you could teach me?” 

You feel your face fall. 

John shakes his head. “I… Probably wouldn’t be the best teacher. Karkat taught me actually. Him and his friends.”

“Oh, nonsense.” 

“Well, for now, I think I might have been neglecting my fiance a bit too long.” 

“John…” She says, a bit of sharpness in her voice that hadn’t been present before. 

Dave swoops in Jade and Jake in tow. “Hey,” he says, “These two were interested in learning too. Let me show you all at once, let them have their fun.” 

“That’s very kind of you, Sir Strider,” she says. “I’d appreciate your tutelage.” 

You smirk and take John back out onto the floor. 

“Karkat,” He says, voice low and serious. “What are you doing with all this?” 

“Dancing. Showing her I know what I’m doing.” 

“You know most Imperials… think this is too close for dancing.” 

“Most imperials can suck my dick. You brought home a foreign elf, you told me she wants to know about adventures in Skyrim, let’s show her.” 

He sighs. “Karkat, keep it together.” 

“I have it together,” you hiss. 

You see the countess start dancing with Dave. She’s a little uncertain, and it’s always going to be a little awkward because Dave is leading and he’s half a head shorter than her. But she’s catching on quickly. Too quickly for your taste. 

When the song ends, she approaches you. 

“Alright, then,” she says. “Mind if I cut in? I’d love to continue our conversation.”

“Come on,” you growl, your accent slipping. “Can’t you just leave him alone?” 

“Karkat!” John hisses

“Excuse me?” the countess asks. Her tone is still fairly even but you can hear the threat. And you don’t like it.  

“You were on him at the first opportunity and haven’t let up since then! John is my fiance, not yours!” 

Her nostrils flare. “You insult my honor and forget your place.”

You scoff. “Yeah, I think we all fucking know my place. I’m not made for this kind of charade and had no time to learn to bullshit may way through properly, since you gave us less than a fucking week before dropping in! Then you needle me with comments about being cute and quaint and monopolize John’s time all night! I don’t know what your game was, if you were hoping to get a rise out of me to prove I’m not good enough, or if your head is so far up your own ass that you have no idea how to talk to people who don’t bow to your every whim, and at this point, I don’t care.” 

“That’s enough!” John’s father stands. You think this is the first time you’ve heard him raise his voice. It booms through the hall, and you feel an immense weight in your chest as you realize what you’ve done. 

“Fuck.” You whisper. You look back at the countess. Congratulations,” you say. “You win.” 

Before the words even leave your mouth you hate yourself for them. You storm out of the hall before you can make things worse. 

—

You’d say you can’t believe he did that, but you absolutely can. That might be why you’re the first person to stop gawking after Karkat’s outburst. 

“Gods, Liv, I’m so, so sorry. I’m not sure what’s gotten into him! He’s not usually like that!” 

In your mind Miraak scoffs. Sure, you also know it’s a lie, but it’s the one you need to tell. 

Liv just shakes her head. “My… my goodness. I’d always heard tell Dunmer have a fire in them, but that’s just-” She turns to Jake, “Did you hear the way he spoke to me?” 

“I did,” he says. “I, er, think we all did.” 

You think the whole county did. 

“He’s…” You choose your words carefully. “He is a work in progress. Dunmer, especially those in Windhelm, are a proud people, and Karkat is, if nothing else, fiercely loyal.” 

“Loyalty? You tell me about loyalty and he just-” she gestures to the door. 

You’re not sure what to say to that, but by then your father is there. 

“My apologies for his outburst,” he says, “It shall be dealt with.” 

“Wait, what do you mean by that?” You demand. 

He gives you a hard look. 

“Dad, you can’t just- after all we’ve been through!” 

“Well, it is not up to me whether Her Excellency feels it right to forgive him.” 

You turn back to Liv. She’s clearly still reeling from shock, but you’re beginning to see anger creep back in. 

We can stop them both, Miraak says. Make them do whatever you want.

Until the spell fades, then we’re in even deeper shit. 

I’m not proposing using the Shouts. I can perform a very subtle calm spell. 

It won’t work on Dad.

What about her?

We can’t risk it. 

At this point what else is there to risk? 

…You have a point. 

Speak, child, and trust me. 

“I’ll go talk to him,” you say. You can feel a prickling sensation on your tongue, almost like mint, as Miraak works magic into your words. Gods, you hope this works. 

Keep talking. This spell is delicate and precise. It takes time to sink in. Make sure your words would be soothing on their own so that no one suspects a thing. If she knows she’s being manipulated all will be lost. 

“He was wrong to confront you on all counts, but it is true that he has not had much time to learn to behave in high society. It is… a significant drawback to choosing our partners as we do, I’ll admit. But if I remember correctly, my father’s first wife also struggled with etiquette when she first arrived, having grown up in Valenwood, and your parents grew to love her, right?” 

“That is true…” your father admits. He gets a wistful look on his face, and part of you regrets bringing her up but… 

Keep talking! And don’t give them more openings! 

“Karkat is a good person,” You say quickly. Gods, you’re so nervous your accent is slipping a little. But you have to keep pushing. “He’s been working so hard every single day to catch up because he didn’t have the noble education we did. I know he’ll get there. He cares about everything more than anyone I’ve ever met. Sometimes too much, I know, but there are benefits to being that passionate.” You lower your voice, making it almost a whisper. “Gods, Liv, you should have seen the way the people in Windhelm listen to his father, the way his friends listen to him. And I know you’re skeptical about the loyalty right now because his anger was so clearly misplaced, but I know he did that because he cares deeply about me. He doesn’t know you well enough to give you his loyalty yet, but he’ll get there. I know he will.”

Just a little longer, Miraak says. 

“He lost control, and that’s bad. But, Liv, if you wrote off everyone who lost control in front of you, everyone knows I wouldn’t be here today. Please, let me talk to him, give him a chance to apologize and prove himself to you.”

As you speak the last few words, the tingling sensation leaves your tongue, and you think you see a bit of green flash in her eyes. 

It is done.  

Liv looks at your father for a moment. His features are expressionless as usual. 

“Very well,” Liv says. “Once he has calmed down I’ll hear his case.” She glances around, noticing how literally everyone is staring at you. “Perhaps somewhere a little more private? No need to drag this scene out any further than necessary. Go speak to him.” You jump to follow her instructions. “In the meantime, Jack, I’d like your opinion on his prospects.” 

He takes her hand and starts leading her back to the head table. “Karkat is absolutely still rough around the edges, but what John says is true…” 

You close the door before you can hear anything else. 

I can’t believe that worked, you think. 

Why not? Humans are such simple creatures. Noble or peasant, it makes no difference. Elves and the bestial races present a bit more of a challenge, but only a bit. The mind is such a fickle, fragile thing… 

And she won’t know we cast a spell on her?

No. No one will. That’s the beauty of targeted emotional manipulation. But it… takes a lot out of me. I’m going to have to teach you.

We’re not doing it again. 

Of course not… 

He sinks into the back of your mind. 

We did what we had to, you think. I did what I had to. 

You climb the stairs to your chambers. Karkat hasn’t lit any candles, so you cast magelight. You call out for him but get no response. Maybe he’s not up here? Then you open the door to your bedroom. There’s an elf-sized lump under the blankets and you hear sniffing and muffled sobs. It hurts to see him this upset, but you’re relieved he didn’t just run away into the dark somewhere. 

“Hey,” You say softly. 

“Fuck John, I’m sorry. I fucked everything up.”

“It’s gonna be okay. Dad's talking to Liv,” You say, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “He'll smooth it all over. But you’re gonna have to apologize.”

“She started it!” He snarls. “She provoked me, climbing all over you like that!”

“She was a little much tonight,” you admit, gently placing your hand on the lump of blanket containing your fiance. “I’m not sure if she was trying to test you and you took the bait, or if she was just playing around. I should have prepared you for it better, but that kind of flirting is all just a game. It doesn’t mean anything to anyone. Liv loves… okay, I don’t actually know how much she loves her husband, but she’s completely loyal to him, and I love you.” 

“Then why?” 

“I don’t know. That’s just how it’s done. I know you don’t know all the rules yet. If anyone was expecting you to have all of them it’d be a massive dick move. But at the same time, you did… kinda overreact. Like a lot. You can’t just shout at a countess like that. Especially not your countess.” 

“It’s fucking bullshit,” he says, poking his head out. “So she’s just allowed to say whatever the fuck she wants and I have to take it?” 

“I mean, kinda?” 

“It’s not right!”

“I know. But it's not about being right.” You smile sadly down at him. “It's about convincing more powerful people that you're not a threat.” 

“Why would I want to do that?!” Karkat snaps. “I was supposed to get her to take me seriously, not make her think we’re her playthings!” 

You sigh. “We can't fight every battle. At least not on this level. The cost is too high.”

“So we just let her push us around?”

“Only when it doesn't matter.”

Karkat looks at you incredulously. “How the fuck doesn’t this matter?” 

“Because this is just a social call. Who cares if you look stupid or she thinks of you as a toy or a pet or whatever as long as when push comes to shove she'll fight for us? If she wanted she could revoke our title, expose us as daedra worshipers, do anything she wanted. But she doesn't, because she likes us.” 

“For fuck's sake, though, can't she give us a fucking ounce of respect?” 

You stand. “I… I'm sorry.” 

“You’re sorry?” He asks. “For what?” 

You walk over to one of the tapestries and begin playing the the fringe. “I- I knew you were stressed. You hadn't been acting like yourself. You were barely swearing, forcing this fake smile all the time.” You glance back at him and he’s got his eyebrows lightly furrowed, a small pout on his lips. He’s listening. “I knew that, so I tried to help you relax earlier. And I knew it wasn’t enough the second dinner started, but I kept telling Liv whatever she wanted to hear anyway. I pushed you too far.” 

“John, you-” Then he cuts himself off and his face hardens. “Wait, fuck, you're doing it now, arent you!?” 

“This isn’t the same.” You say. 

“It absolutely is! I see you do this all the time: you pretend to be dumb and friendly to soothe the situation when people get pissed.” 

“I don't do it to everyone, Karkat.” You go back to the bed and try to take his hand but he pulls it away. “I don't do it to people I trust. You know me.” 

“I thought I did.”

He might as well have reached right through your ribs and crushed your heart. “I've shown you everything. You've been in my soul. I've been in yours. What more can you want?!”  

“I don’t know!” He shouts. Then he wraps his arms around his knees and looks down. “I don’t know.” He repeats. He sniffles and you see candle light reflect off of the tears in the corners of his eyes “I want to be good enough for you. But good enough isn’t good enough. I’m the half-breed son of a disgraced spy and an adultress. I’d have to be perfect, better than perfect just to make up for the crime of being me.”

“That’s not true.” 

“It is, though. Your uncle told me.” 

“He did what?!” you demand.  

“Well…” he shifts uncomfortably. “Not in as many words but… it felt pretty clear. I had to shape up, I had to have her accept me, or you’d have to find someone else. This was my only chance.” 

You feel your heart plunge into your stomach. 

“No.” You say, standing. 

“No?” He looks up at you in confusion. “But you said it yourself-” 

“It was going to be. But I talked her into giving you another shot.” 

“Really? How? After I-” 

“I… Can be persuasive. And I know the rules.” 

“What, did you bat your eyelashes at her some more?” he snaps. 

“It wasn’t flirty, actually. Just… said the right things the right way, I guess.”

He looks at you curiously. You have to press on. 

“We still need to impress her tonight, but the night isn’t over.  Let’s get you cleaned up. We’re going downstairs.” 

—

The countess waits for you in the trophy room. She stands with her arms crossed squarely behind her back, staring into the fire burning on the far side of the room. John’s ancestors look down at you from their portraits above her. You’re not sure if it’s your nerves or how thin the line between worlds is tonight, but you feel them judging you. You glance over to the first portrait, Colonel Sassacre… Sheogorath. You already have his blessing, but how much does that really help? 

“Liv,” John says firmly. He has his shoulders squared and is standing at his full height. “Thank you for waiting for us.”

She glances over at the two of you. John is head and shoulders taller than her, but she’s utterly unintimidated. “I find it prudent to hear my vassals out, at least. Whether or not I take their positions is another matter.” 

“I understand.” John replies. “But I was not thinking of this as a negotiation.” 

“What is it then?” She asks sharply. 

“I’ve come to apologize,” you say, putting on your best accent. 

“Indeed,” she replies. Her tone is flat, disbelieving. “Please take a seat.” She gestures to the two large armchairs facing the fireplace. 

You look at John. He silently nods and you sit before speaking. 

“I… allowed my anger to get the better of me and acted without thinking. In doing so I insulted you, and for that I’m deeply sorry. It was a poor first impression, to say the least.” 

John gives you an approving smile. 

“That it was,” the countess says. “And among higher nobility, first impressions are everything. What if I had been the emperor?” 

“I’m not asking for your approval,” you say. “Not yet, anyhow. I just… Please give me another chance.” 

She turns and appraises you, her pale blue eyes, which looked at you and John so kindly mere hours ago, tear into you like an ice wraith’s bite. You’ve combed your hair back down, straightened your clothes perfectly. You’d hold your own in a Tribunal delegation, and you know it. At least until you opened your mouth. 

“How long have you been here?” 

“Since Last Seed,” You reply. “Most of my training has been in local history and administration. The plan was to pivot to etiquette after Sir Joel evaluated my ability to serve as John’s right hand. We… were anticipating more time before I met you.” 

“Liv,” John says, dropping the formal accent. “You’ve known me since I was seven. You know that I know how to play the game. And I believe in Karkat. Out of everyone I met, there’s no one I’d rather work with. He’s who I want.” 

“Love is blind, John,” she says. 

“But I’m not. And I’m not a kid anymore either. At some point, you’re going to need to trust me to make major decisions. You weren’t in Skyrim. You didn’t see the way he brought people together. The way he fought tooth and nail to save everyone. He had a way out multiple times and he never took it.” 

She looks directly at you. “He could be playing a long game.” 

“I’m not!” You insist. 

“John’s already said his piece on your behalf. Twice now. As did his father and uncle. But I need you to prove the value in those words. Convince me.” 

You start to snap back, but kill the words before they leave your throat. 

“No,” she says. “Say it.” 

You take a deep breath. “If… If I was just in this for the money or status, why would I have called you out in front of everyone? If I didn’t care about John, it would have been easy to sit back and watch you two together. But I just- I couldn’t.” 

“John?” She says. 

“Yes?” 

“Leave.” 

“But I-” 

“Go. It is nearly midnight, and I believe you have a ritual to perform.” 

He looks at you with concern clear on his face, but you nod at him. 

“Alright,” he says. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and then leaves the office, closing the door behind him. 

“You understand that behaving like you did tonight is unacceptable, yes?” 

“I do. Which is why I came to apologize.”

“Then why do it? Why jeopardize your status?”

“I… I was jealous,” You admit.  

“Of what?” 

“John… when he was younger he used to like you. He told me a long time ago. And then seeing you tonight, without understanding the nuances and particularities of courtly interactions, I misunderstood both of your intents. I felt jealous and let it get the better of me. I am working on my temper.”

“Indeed. You, Karkat Vantas, are an unsophisticated brute without the first concept of deference or decorum.” You wince. “And I can work with that. The only thing I truly require from my vassals is loyalty. I need to know above all else that I can trust you. You’ve certainly won over the Egbert family. After you left, John spoke quite passionately in your favor, and Jack and Joel both spoke quite highly of your abilities and character.” 

“They did?” You ask. “Like, Joel specifically?” 

“This is a surprise to you?” She asks. 

“Er…” You snap back into formal mode. “He has very high standards. And I know I still have much to learn.”

“I see. But that does not answer the primary question.” She turns sharply and marches towards you, bending down so your eyes lock. “Can I trust you, Mr. Vantas?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” She sits in the chair beside you. “So, then, while the Egberts channel a dark god, tell me your story. Omit nothing of importance, no matter how it makes you look. After that, I will tell you how you can best be of use to my county. And keep trying with the accent. The practice can only help.” 

—

End notes:

So I spent like 2 days doing research on specifically 1400s-ish banquets and feasts to write like 2 paragraphs of details. I then spent a further 2 days researching what went into managing a barony in the later medieval and early modern periods. Like a lot of history, the answer is “idk, it depends *shrug emoji.*” A lot of the sources are about England and France, which the Empire is probably closer to politically, but the climate is all over the place and the names are certainly Latin/Italian inspired. Given its proximity to Hammerfell and being at the foot of the mountains, I’m giving Battlehorn a Near East adjacent climate, but historically that area has a very different culture and style to what appears in Cyrodiil so this is a case of having done a good chunk of research and then deciding to mostly throw it out the window. 

 A lot of the political background details I’m saving for if they become relevant later (like, for example, the 50-odd townspeople I have now named and given life stories), but some of the feast stuff was kind of interesting, so I thought I’d include some historical notes here. 

While I’m using banquet and feast interchangeably, there was usually some sort of difference with the former being fancier occasions. But regardless, the tables would be arranged in a U with everyone seated around the outside so that servants could bring things and take it away more easily (I was not able to confirm, but part of me wonders if this is why everyone is on the one side of the table in the Last Supper painting). In the earlier medieval era, food would be served on bread trenchers to sop up juice. However, by the early modern period, these had mostly been replaced by flat wooden trenchers, which is closer to what we see in the Elder Scrolls games. Music would be playing the whole time, and dancing was a must. 

It turns out that there’s actually a lot we know about formal dancing during the Renaissance, since a lot of kings and dukes and such employed dance masters to teach courtiers more complex choreography, and some of these masters wrote and sold dance books (Some of the more prosperous counts and countesses in Cyrodiil probably do this, but the Egberts certainly would not). There were some processionals (think like two lines approaching each other and walking back), but they were somewhat old fashioned by that point. To the modern eye, a lot of the popular dances look really goofy. Because of how stiff the clothing was in the upper body (think like Elizabethan ruffled collars), there wasn’t much movement in the upper body, but a lot of prancing and jumping. (Eventually, these would develop into ballet). By the mid 1600s, minuets had become dominant in England and France, and I like to think that maybe this is a Altmer dance that’s become more popular in Cyrodiil since the Aldmeri Dominion’s influence has grown and a lot of Cyrodiilic nobles try to suck up to them. People Jake’s age are probably the oldest to have learned it, but by the time John was growing up, they were standard. 

Waltzes are kind of a weird case. It seems they were invented near Vienna in the 13th century, but it took 600 years for them to make their way to England. In the 1800s when they first showed up, many of the upper crust thought it was scandalous, due to how close the man and woman were. I was purposefully vague on how Nordic dancing worked in the original Skyrim Johnkat, but I’m giving this to the Nords, somewhat arbitrarily but also because it worked and, like I said, we’re playing fast and loose with historical inspirations. Just about everyone who lives in Skyrim adapted the waltz fairly quickly because (just like in real life) any excuse to be good to your cute dance partner is a good excuse. (Also, Nords and Dunmer are somewhat used to sharing dances, as both traditionally practice forms of circle dance, and while the forms are distinct, they share centuries of cultural exchange and adaptation, dating back to before the eruption of Red Mountain). At this point, the Imperials consider the Waltzes to be a northern folk dance, much like Dunmeri and Nordic circle dancing. And while it is viewed as more graceful and refined than the circle dancing, it’s also more scandalous. 

But it could be worse, it could be Redguard dancing, which is normally done like a competition between two individuals or groups, and tends to feature stomps or otherwise firmer leg movements and very expressive and often quick movements in the upper torso. Because it is, in many ways, the opposite of the primary form of court dancing, most nobles consider it to be incredibly base. It is, however, the primary form of dancing enjoyed by the Battlehorn peasants, along with Colovian folk dancing, which is similar but does not involve as strong stances and often has slightly smaller hand movements. (Having spent most of his life in Battlehorn and taking part in folk celebrations, these are the forms of dancing John is more comfortable and skilled in. That and the wide, strong stances are closer to how he’s used to moving his body for combat training). 

[m1ckeyb3rry]

It’s truly a monster of a work LOL maybe someday….the wc is fr insane maybe it’s what influenced you /j

HAHA “just make an oc” is CRAZY but SO TRUE like guys this isn’t even the same character atp

PAUSEE NAGI TAKING OVER THE YOTD FIC IDEA??? Adapting it to fit the original universe sounds a little complicated but if you ever decide to write that I bet it’d be fire….second lead Rin….haha guys!!

I’m actually living for these peregrine rants HELLO?? I love the angst and drama the three main fights also I’m CRYING reader drunkenly approaching Kira bc she thought he was NAGI IM DEAD stop I live for this shit the orie viral news misunderstanding??? Stop this is literally like one of my favorite types of scenarios

I’m laughing so hard the “damn you’re really that emotional over your friends’ wedding good for you” is so fucking funny and it’s also such a Nagi thing to think but THE CONFESSION AT THE WEDDING AND KIRA TWEAKING and CHIGIRI DUMPJNG THW WINE AND DROPPING THAT LINE??? TOO GOOD >>>>>> I can’t that’s also so chigiri holy cow the red hair comeback line is actually too genius I’m losing my mind thinking about it

Peregrine goes so fucking hard……omfg…GUYS..!!!!! Makes me wanna go reread it rn this plot is fr cooking though

LMAOO REAL tiktok truly has its ways…but omg BAROU NEXT I second that I’m actually so excited for Barou’s version too based off our convo it’s gonna be really entertaining to read….im ngl I almost forgot niko was in peregrine too Lowk him in that sidekick-esque role is perfect

LMAOA bro my grind is nothing compared to your writing grind HAHA im also just gonna put my response here to cut down on asks

LMAOAOA no bc my face when i realized….usually he has his trademark “mediocre/dunce” that’s all the same phrase (romanized to bon) but I’ve literally never seen him use this phrase ANYWHERE except for in reference to kiyora so im assuming it must be specifically set aside for him??? Lmao????? It’s basically the same just means “mediocre/average/nothing special” but the way he purposefully uses a different phrase for kiyora has me going crazy

MY EXACT THOUGHTS I read that and snorted that’s so otoya LMAOO but from that it seems like otoya Karasu (and probably himizu) ganged up on/bullied kiyora LOL bro really had all the opps on his team Nagi’s team adopting him like they’re cps has me cackling they really said “let’s get you out of this hostile environment” but FRRRR can’t wait….speaking of new chapters have you seen the ones for the main series yet? I don’t have all that many thoughts about it but we’re finally moving ig?? LOL

- Karasu anon

LMAOO miraverse fic w an orv word count when??? jk idk if i could ever write something that long…200k words is my sweet spot that’s about how long pomegranate ink and endure are (give or take ten thousand) so if i do end up writing something crazy for bllk it’ll probably be abt that length (one of my aot fics was supposed to end up at 500-600k words but i got out of aot so i never finished it 😓 but if you ever see me posting abt ship in the harbor that’s the one!! people really liked it despite it being hardly related to aot and they surprisingly LOVED the ocs i literally still get asks abt them)

LMAOO NO BECAUSE IT’S SO TRUE making ocs is fun there’s nothing wrong with it but stop misinterpreting kaiser like this bro is not your playboy dom daddy he probably has intimacy issues 😭

OKAY BUT IT RLLY COULD COOK it would be sad asf though like major character death sad 😓 since if i did it it’d be a reworking of year of the roses and in that hak literally kills shinah (cue time travel shenanigans that actually just lead to the same inevitable outcome) so uhhh rin stans and nagi stans alike might hate me (it would go crazy though if my tik tok audios fail me i’ll def consider doing that)

LMAOOOO NO BECAUSE I WAS GIGGLING WHEN I THOUGHT OF THAT like why would nagi even be there?? but yk drunk logic 😭 no but that’s such a butterfly effect moment because if she hadn’t gone to the party and met kira she probably would’ve called nagi during the whole orie misunderstanding and straightened things out pretty fast but because kira was there and ready she just gave up and didn’t even try 😓

HAHA plsss no nagi was just trying to cover for her he kinda picked up that smth else was wrong just because he knew her so well but he didn’t want to embarrass her in front of everyone so that’s why he made the excuse and then asked her again privately why she was upset!! when he’s a considerate king 🤩 he’s had many years to think about what he could have done better so he’s def reformed a bit…and LMAOO miraverse chigiri is truly superior he’s sooo funny and sassy i love him he’s fr peregrine reader’s platonic soulmate they are SO funny in the college era!! because their hangouts are basically may and reo being all lovey dovey and then reader + chigiri making fun of them (also the chigiri and kira beef is LEGENDARY HAHA)

I MISS PEREGRINE it’s actually so fun so interesting so cool one day i will return to the grind for it omg i’ve gotten so many people asking abt when i will update again and i’m just like 😰 idkkk

HELP niko consistently in his sidekick era he’s always there in some way shape or form i can’t help it it’s just the exact vibe he’s always bringing to the function!! BAROU’S VERSION WILL BE SO FUN i am sososo excited for the oaeu imagine i start writing it now even though i still have requests to do…NO I MUSTN’T

THEY ARE SO MEAN TO KIYORA BRO you know it’s bad when barou and nagi seem like cuddly sweethearts in comparison 😭 honestly justice for kiyora no wonder he’s always ready to fight i would be too 😓 and smh karasu bro rlly went from the bullied to the bully…I CAN FIX HIM THOUGH TRUST next epinagi chapter will be me standing there w my hands on karasu’s shoulders like “look at me baby 🥺 this isn’t you 🥺” FJDJDJSJSJ jkjk

yesss i did see the new chap!! okay wait i was joking abt the this isn’t you but why was isagi deadass serving the 🥺 emoji in that one panel w rin i hope yk what i’m talking abt…at least rin finally scored YAYY i’m hoping the match ends soon just one more goal to go!! and then the next arc begins…or maybe we finally get a peek at barcha vs manshine!! rooting for nagi to come back 🤩