#Maybe 'The Blood Puddle's Poetry/Song'

[solradguy]

Got the JP manuscript compiled for Raven's GG2O short story. I'm gonna be away from my computer/Japanese materials for the next ~3 days though but at least the most monotonous part of this story is over now haha

[rasheru]

22

i have always had a lurking suspicion that im wasting something.

wading through words upon words of formless thoughts, fingers fumbling to fish up sentences amidst the muddied puddle that contained it— what on earth is the point of all this? to me, the question is not "what", but "where". the point is not here, but currently i am on my way there. i looked out the window and sighed. it was a sunny day. suddenly the bus stopped in the middle of nowhere, and i was the child that frantically searched for an adult it knows. it locked eyes with an angry man that slurred his speech, bottle in hand, face red. on the other end of the road it was a woman, out of breath and arms sore, sweat glinting in the sunlight as she attempts to hoist heavy sacks twice her size. i ignored them and walked straight ahead. it was a sunny day, and i never wished to be born anyway.

i spent hours and hours walking until i bumped into a screen, where i stayed in front of for hours, in which those hours turned into days that turned into weeks until it morphed into a chronological abomination without a start and an end. i may have gotten myself stuck in a loop. but it was fine. it is a nice loop, with comfy beds and blaring electronic music sung by disembodied voices and strawberry-flavored heart-shaped candies that turns sour the longer you suck it. back then i thought, maybe this is the point. this is where billions of years of evolution have led to— all of what my ancestors have died and reproduced for, swaddled in mammoth blood, chanting a guttural song of victory, praying and thanking a god that cowered behind what it created— this is it. the point. or is it?

it was one rainy day in the loop. what i once thought would be a drizzle trickled into a downpour until the blue skies were unrecognizable and the greys took charge, wearing a flash of fury and burnt air like a badge of honour. i watched as it sent spears of raindrops. the raindrops (i took a closer look and the raindrops weren't made of rain, nor of water, nor of a liquid even, but a concoction of a thousand other "thing", a thing that may or may not even share the same plane of existence as i do) took the form of a parasitic mutant cyst that deemed me to be its host, permanently altering my body as it etched deeper within my flesh, feasting on my soul. i did not know what to do. in fact no one would know what to do in my position. if it were you, the reader, what would you have done? i was sixteen, the puddle of rain was ankle-deep, and i wanted so badly to swim.

i fished beneath the muddied puddles with my bare hands. it was viscous and thick, yet slippery and silky as if it could be easily whisked away by a mere flutter of wind. there i fished up words, and then the more i fished the more i got better until the words i caught eventually became stringed up sentences. it was where i discovered a talent of embroidering these words into an intricate yet sometimes crude tapestry of prose and poetry. what is a girl supposed to do in the rain anyways? besides it was what shielded me from the downpour. i lay sometimes staring up at the sky with the unfinished tapestry i've created, and sometimes i wish it was warmer and wasn't full of holes, and sometimes i'm astonished with how easily it enveloped my body, perfectly hiding away exposed flesh that so angered the skies. the winds remained harsh and my body frozen. so what else is there to do but sleep?

in my slumber things pass me by. it's not that I'm actually deep asleep, blind and unfeeling. it was a state of stillness, a peaceful repose where my mind was disconnected from my body, glued merely an inch by a smaller sense of responsibility and attached by a flimsy thread of apathy. it was why i never took things seriously— for why should i? the world outside the loop continues to turn, the gleaming blurry lines of silhouette goes on to stream through the découpage of what is and what will be, leaving the loop and everything within it behind. inside the loop, i had no drive to touch the glowing lights beyond it and join the silhouettes. sometimes they beckon at me. waving their shadowy arms, all i see is a thick grainy veil of haze looming outside. i deem it a waste of energy.

why would i come outside the loop? i thought it ridiculous. inside the loop, i didn't have to be punished for sitting behind as an audience of a sick play that explored the theme of avarice and greed. inside the loop, i didn't have to compete with restless eyes and shaky breaths for a momentary fleeting sack of used crumpled paper, useless and devoid of meaning. inside the loop, i had no potential i had to live up to and fulfill. inside the loop, i was a breathing corpse cursed only to think and theorize about what the world outside could be. inside the loop, i was left untouched. inside the loop, i was free.

at some point the rain stopped. a striking beam of sunlight forced me to get out and leave the tapestry behind. my skin was melting. "why are you hiding?" it asked, "the rain stopped millennia ago. the skies are blue, tulips and roses and peonies are growing beside you, itching for a drop of water in the scorching heat. in fact, the rain does not even exist. there is no rain. there never was." at that time i am not so sure what i believed. the sunlight continued to glare, as if furious. it might have been under the impression that i was taunting it, babbling about the existence of a rain in front of impoverished fauna that sought its very presence. how dare i to imagine a rain that did not exist? how sick and twisted could i be to wish for a raging storm to take me in my most comfortable sleep, tucked beneath the tapestry that protected me from the heat? selfish!

whether what was said was true or the rain really did exist outside the loop instead of presenting itself as a mirage whose sole purpose was to fill in a spot where boredom chipped away, i do not know. was it boredom, or did i just really not expect to live this long?

i walked straight ahead. towards the point.

[gentlemancrow]

In its Vastness, Floats Some Fragment of a Song - A Fairytale (Preview!)

AAHHHH CROW WRITING? ON YOUR DASH? IT'S MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK!! (ER WELL SORT OF!!) This, my friends, is a little PREVIEW of my fic I am writing for the Summer in the Archives event over at @seasons-in-the-archives!! It is not quite finished, but I am posting the first little bit as a prologue so that my AMAZING AND INCREDIBLE AND BREATHTAKING INIMITABLE ARTISTS might post their pieces as well! I CANNOT thank @lucky-numberme and @fadesinthelight enough for their ABSOLUTELY MINDBLOWING ILLUSTRATIONS for this fic I was reduced to a puddle every time I saw them and they are just RADIANT please go check out both their stuff!! And please do stay tuned for the full fic SOON!! It's got everything! Mer!Jon, Martin with big sailor rowing arms, Peter Lukas suffering for eternity, the works!

In its Vastness, Floats Some Fragment of a Song Artists: @lucky-numberme [ART HERE] and @fadesinthelight [ART HERE]

In a tiny little town far up north, there is a strange lighthouse keeper with a story... The story, he says, is true, no matter what anyone says, and it is all about the strange fog that seems to both haunt and protect the town all at once. It is about a young Sailor full of song and hope and passion, and a Captain, full of salt and cold and greed. It is about a beautiful Siren of the deep, doomed to be fascinated and consumed by both. But it is also, as all stories are, a story about love, and how love, above all things, is the most powerful force in the universe.

Way and away up North in the pink heather-speckled Highlands, watched over by a plucky herd of wooly cows and cradled by the sea, lies a sleepy little town.  Many stories begin just like this, but this town is not a sleepy little town like the kind found in the once upon a times of myth and legend.  No heroes have been birthed, nurtured, and then launched to glory from its humble foundations.  No illuminated manuscripts have been penned singing the humble origins of a tale that changed the course of history and the world.  It is not the resting place of holy artifact, arcane knowledge, or treasure beyond the wildest of dreams.  It is not even the first step on a journey to greatness and discovery for anyone seeking answers or absolution.

It is nothing and nowhere.

Naught more than a barnacle crusted dock with a few stalls that pass for a fish market, a ratty old pub that leaks in the summer and the winter, and a smattering of cottages huddled up against the sea cliffs, most maps won’t even bother giving it the dignity of a dot.  There is not much to earn it one, either. 

Perhaps the best piece of fried haddock you ever had in your life and would never have again, yet always crave when the salt air hits your tongue just right.  Maybe a beautiful piece of scrimshaw to take home to a spouse or child as a souvenir, but then never being able to recall exactly where it came from or what, exactly, it depicts.  A harrowing tale of a town so dank and damp and dripping from every rafter the favorite coat you wore would never be fully dry again.  A pressed thistle so purple it recalls a bruised seaside sunset and the lines of poetry you read when you plucked it and laid it down against the lines of it.  More likely, though, it would become a wistful memory of the last restful stop before heading out into the blinding white of arctic waters for a whaling voyage.  Just a desperate sliver of idyllic peace before steeping yourself to the elbows in blood and gore and bone.

Truth be told though, even the whales know better than to waste any time in that particular dreary little cove.  But there is one thing even the smallest, humblest bastion of quaintness, no matter how dull, always seems to possess.

A secret…

Something buried in the sands of time, hidden betwixt dusty vellum pages of history, whispered and polished on so many tongues it hardly resembles itself anymore.  There are stories here, indeed.  If one were to stay in the town long enough, treat just the right local to an extra pint, they might be lucky enough to catch one.  Though none would give anything much away of the truth of what really happened there all those years ago. The thing about a good secret is no one knows truly what the truth of it is.  It only knows itself.

And this town’s secret lies in the fog.

There’s really only one thing any poor soul has ever said upon taking their leave, and that would be something along the lines of, “Thickest fog I ever did see in my life!”, or “Like pea soup, it was!”, or “Blimey, I couldn’t see me hand in front of me face!”.  For, truly, that is the one thing notable at all about the place.  It is visited, nay, haunted, by a wicked fog that presides over the town as mayor, ruler, deity, judge, jury, and executioner— all of the above at once.  When the fog rolls in, everyone in town knows to close the shutters and close their hearts against the silvery sovereign that guards them from ancient evils they are privileged not to comprehend.  Nor does anyone care to.  They need not know how it came to be to accept it for what it is.  Though, it is not a cruel thing at all, despite how it may sound.  It looks out for them as much as they look out for it.  It is their guardian and custodian.  The billowing mists are as much a lonely embrace as they are a shield.  There is an ineffable and beautiful sort of love there and the residents wouldn’t have it any other way.

The more skeptical amongst visitors might say upon hearing this lore, for one cannot help but hear it from someone, that it sounds like romantic balderdash, or utter poppycock, tripe, drivel, or whatever colorful word they like best to describe something out of a fairy story.  Just a tale for children and old folks in their cups shameless enough to believe in magic again.  And perhaps there is a small bit of merit in that.  Everyone knows deep down fog is just fog.  It has no soul, has no master and obeys no laws of humanity or divinity.  But the locals will swear on the graves of all their ancestors before them to you that their fog, above all fog, is indeed a living thing with a will and a mind of its own, and you would do best to give it the reverence it is due.  Lest it claim your very soul from your body to drag out to sea with it when it goes, forever to wander the watery wastes.  Or to turn you into fog yourself, forever restless, forever intangible and mutable.  Or to forever be lost no matter where you wander, never to find your way home again.  It has happened before and it will happen again.  Or so the stories go.

That strange tenet, or superstition, or legend, or whatever it may be, lays as thick upon the town as the fog itself, coiled like a silver dragon guarding its secret and guarding its home.  Then it vanishes from waking memory just as fiercely with a snap of white-fanged forgetfulness.

Strange, indeed…

Though perhaps it is a bit of an exaggeration to say the fog is the only thing strange about the little village.  There would be little to tell if there were only a nasty bit of weather to the place with a few fanciful tales to give it life.  There is also something to be said of the lighthouse that stands sentinel high atop the misty cliffsides to watch it. 

And there is especially something to be said of its keeper…

He is an old man.  Not old in the way that creases the face and rots the tooth and loosens the tongue, but old in the way of the stone of the cliffs, softly etched by the wind.  Of the dauntlessness of the waves that crash upon the jetties, knowing they will someday, even if eons from now, prevail.  Of the stars that still guide sailors home from their cosmically fixed points in the sky.  The locals say he has lived for a hundred years and he’ll live for a hundred more yet.  No one knows exactly when he came, but no one remains who can recall a time without him.  He has always been.

He is built like those very cliffs upon which he roosts, dresses only in a faded blue peacoat and a mariner’s cap over his silver-white hair, and says very little. He has rheumy blue eyes with a clouded pupil that some swear rolls and swirls like the fog, but he has never made eye contact with anyone long enough to be sure.  He keeps his hands in his pockets and his gaze on the ground and the smoke from his pipe seems to cling to him like a shroud.  His rare comings always feel like a prophecy come to pass, expected and yet somehow unexpected.  A scrimshaw etching come to life from dead and yellowed bone.  He lives a solitary existence in his lighthouse, and might just fade away into myth and memory himself, if not for the command of the full moon and the story of what truly happened in that sleepy little town so long ago that lives inside of him and only in him.

Everyone in town knows there is only one chance to hear it.

On the evenings of the nights when she shines her brightest and the tide pulls back its curtains wide, he comes.  He stops at the market for the few paltry supplies he always buys, smokes his pipe on the dock as he watches the tide roll out and away from him, and then, without saying a word to a single soul, heads into the pub.  The owner already knows to pour him a pint without his asking— stout, dark and frothy, and placed on the table beneath the window as far from the other patrons as possible.  The Keeper takes the same chair, faces it toward the window, toward the mocking moon, and takes out the same book of folk tales from his pocket in a vain attempt to look unapproachable and absorbed.  It never works.

Every time The Keeper thinks perhaps this time they will not come, perhaps this time they will leave him alone.  He is always wrong.

He barely has time to even get through the haunting description of the selkie standing upon a cliff, without her coat, without her home, without anything, before the first child skitters bashfully up to him with wonder and stars in her eyes.

“E-Excuse me, sir…?” the tiny voice quivers behind him.

The Keeper winces.  He closes his book slowly, deliberately, and draws in a long, shuddering breath.  She is only spared the frostiest of glances out of the corner of an eye peeking from beneath a bushy brow.  The girl rocks to and fro on her heels and chews her lip, brimming with innocence and absolutely unafraid.  The Keeper says nothing.  She had been warned of this, she is prepared, and she continues undaunted.

“They say, sir…” the girl starts up, glancing back at her eagerly grinning father for reassurance, “They say you have… A story?”

The Story again.  The Keeper feels its weight tighten around his throat.  An albatross.  A noose.  A curse.  A duty.  It is all of these things, and he may not refuse it.  He has not the power to do so even if he dared.

“Is that what they say…?” he rumbles at length.  His voice creaks like an old castle door pulled open after centuries.

The girl bobbles her head in affirmation.

“Yes, sir!  They say it’s the greatest!  They say it’s a story about the merfolk!  And that it’s TRUE!  And-!” she chirps, then suddenly turns bashful, her voice lowering under the weight of some unutterable secret.

“…And that it’s a… a love story?”

The Keeper grinds a pensive note between his teeth and down his throat.  It is no longer avoidable.  They are no longer avoidable.  The Keeper can feel the aroused ears and eyes of the pub patrons turn upon him, luminous and yellow like a pack of wolves in the night.  He knows has but one weapon to keep them at a safe distance, loathe as he is to lay himself bare once again.  Yet he knows he must, and he deigns at last to turn his solitary chair.  The legs scrape mournfully in harmony with the crackle and pop of the hearth.  A collective breath is held. 

The storyteller faces his audience.

“A love story, you say?” he asks, painting each word in hushed calligraphy with his tongue.

“Mmhmm!” 

The girl, unafraid of the craggy, shadowed face hollowed out by wicked firelight even still, grins from ear to ear as a few of the not quite as brave children scuttle to flank her and claim their spots.

“Is that what you desire to hear?” The Keeper rumbles, his eyes everywhere and everywhen in the room but the child before him.

“Yes, yes!  Very much!”

The Keeper snorts and scoffs loudly, drops his forearms to his knees, and looks the brazen child dead on, eyes full of fog and eternity and a nameless, primordial darkness.  The blood chills in her veins and she swears she feels the fire falter and its warmth flee, but she does not look away.

He demands payment of her, “What’s so dreadfully exciting about a silly old love story, then?”

She answers the call.   She answers it with a fearless step forward and her full chest.

“Oh, everything!  Everything!” the girl cries, “Love is the best thing in the world!  It’s what gets us through life!  It’s the meaning of it all!  It’s what they always fight for in the best stories!  Love is the only thing worth dying for!  Isn’t it?  Isn’t that true?”

The Keeper’s weathered face splits into a bitter, cryptic grin.  The eyes vanish beneath the brim of his mariner’s cap.  The payment is accepted.

“I see.  Aye, you do speak true.  But I’m afraid you’ve missed the most important part-” he corrects, and hoists himself back up to his full height like a mountain crushed upward into agonizing, epochal existence as he goes on.

“You see… Love is so much more than just two people choosing to spend the rest of their days together.  More than just something to fight for, something to get you through the dark of the night and the cold of winter, something that makes life worth enduring.”  

“Love is… a force of nature- no, no… more than that… so much more than that.  It is everything.  Literally everything.  So I suppose, then, that one could say all stories ever told or will be told are love stories if you look at it the right way.  But that only makes it that much more essential.  Love is the only force in this universe stronger than death, the only one to outlive it and the only one to destroy more utterly.  It is the only one that needs no other force to sustain it.  It simply is.  It always has been and it always will be.  It is creation and destruction together incarnate.  Just like the wind will always love a cliff and by the end of the eons it takes to destroy it with its passion another will have risen to love it right back.  That’s what love is.  A constant, binding force that weaves the very fabric of the world.  And all stories are about those who would either be bound or unwound by it.  Mine is a story about both.”

The adults are captivated by him now, even the ones he knows have heard his story a thousand times before.  He must tell it.  He doesn’t want to.  He never wants to.  He knows if he doesn’t there will be a greater price to pay.

He takes out a piece of half-finished scrimshaw from his pocket, as well as a scriber, and etches at it for a while in contemplative silence.  The Story comes back to him in undulating bluegreen waves, unseen, unheard, as he adds a few delicate scales to a sinuous, achingly beautiful mercreature upon the whale bone.  His thumb runs almost mournfully across it, and his lip curls back into a barely perceptible sneer.  The ceaseless tide inside of him wells up.  The rest of his fingers tighten ever so slightly, imperceptible to all but the few children seated closest to his boots on the floorboards.  The fog in his eye swirls, furious, indignant, but then gives way and parts like a silvery curtain upon the beginning of his story so many years ago.

When he finally begins his voice is thin and shivery, almost inaudible, like seafoam slinking over shimmering sand.

“Once upon a time…”

[aike-pandas]

Basic Ink Demon Y/n HC’s 

 Skin feels like paper, like the really thick kind. 

Ink instead of blood which can be used as armor, weapons, or healing non inklings.

Mostly Monotone unless a colored ink is consumed.

Regular foods are highly poisonous 

Can move through a limbo like state between ink puddles

Their ink is very thick. Like it’s been whipped then frozen then thawed hardly. 

If you look closely when they have ink on you can see it’s constantly moving to keep from drying out. 

Sharp fangs <3

Some of not most are very artistic and talented with the arts. Such as dance, song, poetry, Visual Art, Psysical art

All of them have companionships with non inklings 

It’s tradition 

Either animal or humanoid great friends!

This is adorable mate ^^

Maybe I'll write a blurb about this some day

[lokislittlecorner]

(AU) We were both young... Chapter 1

Pairing: Loki x Reader x Dark!Thor

Warnings for the chapter: 

Warnings for the series: (Not all of it is certain!!!) Angst, fluff, blood, violence, smut, hurt/comfort, Non- Con.

Notes from the author: It will probably be very dramatic and dark that much I can tell. I also never really sat down and took on such a big project but here we are I guess. There may be smut but I’m not sure yet since I normally don’t write it we’ll see how it goes once we reach that part. I tried to be as non-specific as possible - Skin tone, height, weight, etc. If you see something that isn’t inclusive please reach out to me so I can change it! Hope you enjoy my little project.

Summary: You were promised to Thor Odinson firstborn and the next king of Asgard, which made it impossible to not meet his brother Loki Odinson. He seemed to handle you differently from how he should've right from the beginning on. The Royal family had a lot of secrets and things hidden from everyone, including you, especially you.

Word count: 2400

A pleasant tune was playing and with your ear pressed tightly against his chest, you could hear a soft heartbeat. It calmed you down as you slowly danced away. The faint smell of cinnamon and rainy days was either on him or his elegant dark green jacket. You took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent. It felt like a dream. You felt how his chest vibrated as his voice reached through to you. "Are you enjoying yourself, dear?" You had always loved his voice, slivery and gentle yet demanding and sharp if he wanted it to be. "Very much so." You almost whispered back, fully absorbed in the moment, wishing it would never end but it did.

You sat at the window, an old book filled with honey dripping poetry in both your hands. A quiet sigh escaped your lips as you looked up, observing the raindrops and how they softly hit the window, making those beautiful sounds. It wouldn't be long until this wasn't your home anymore and you would move into the golden palace, surrounded by guards and other royalty. Every other young woman would be incredibly thankful and overjoyed just by the thought of marrying the firstborn Odinson but not you, never could you be part of the king's family. Intrigues and rumors, secrets and betrayal, everything you hated about the upper families and soon you would be part of it all. A knock on your door let you snap back to reality, you didn't even have the time to answer as your father was almost standing in front of you already. "My little (Y/N), I hope you are well today and ready to depart?" His deep voice made you shiver, of course, he wasn't here to check if you were alright but to see if the gown and the makeup on your face were fitting for tonight's occasion. "Yes, father. The maids already prettied me up." A bit of sass could be heard behind your words but not quite enough, so your father had nothing something to hold against you. 

He shook his head, grumbling something under his breath that you couldn't quite make out. "I wish you to behave tonight. We don't want to make a fool out of ourselves in front of the royal family... right?" He raised a brow, his arms crossed in front of him. A dark chuckle left you, if only you could embarrass the family enough so you wouldn't have to do all this crap but that was impossible. "Of course not father, I will be on my best behavior." and with that, you closed the book.

A carriage was already waiting for you and your father. It seemed like he would let your mother stay in the small castle to handle the little land which the family owned. The golden frame almost sparkled in the light of the undergoing sun, six strong white horses were pulling the heavy wagon. The Royal family wanted to impress their guests as it seemed. The heavy dress swayed around your ankles as you entered it, dark grey tulle, and only the best materials were used to make it. The ride was quiet, only the horses and the splashing of puddles were to be heard. A look out of the window and it seemed as if the storm only grew in power, lighting, and thunder raged over the sky as soon as the sun had vanished from the eyes of everyone, the cold night had finally arrived.

The palace was shining in all it's golden glory, seen hundreds of meters away from it already. A loud sigh left your trembling body. Was it fear? Anger? You couldn't tell anymore. The shouting of servants presenting the arriving guests could be heard and as soon as the carriage stopped, your family name was announced too. You could feel your heart pounding against your rips, legs weak, all seemed so overwhelming. The door opened and you could see other guests walking up the Palace stairs, servants everywhere, other carriages, and a hand ready to assist you. Now there was no running away anymore.

You took the gloved hand and set one foot after another, exiting the carriage and stepping onto the beautiful stone floor, inhaling the scent of the rain and the night. Your father followed after, his steps were heavy and you could hear him right behind you. "Lady (Y/L/N)! It seems as if you forgot your mask." The servant who just helped you out of the carriage informed you and looking around you realized that indeed everyone was wearing one, even your father put one on at the moment. "I am terribly sorry! I wasn't informed that this would be necessary" You tried to explain yourself and the man in front of you gave you a kind smile. "Do not worry" He turned and talked to a group of women dressed in the same attire, maids supposedly. They nodded and rushed away once the servant turned back to you. "A mask will be handed to you at the entrance, have a nice evening my Lady." He bowed down and you let out a relieved sigh. "Thank you very much" Who knows what father would have done to you if you were the only one without a mask, standing out like that. Your feet carried you in the direction of the tall doors which lead into the palace, royalty from far has also come to visit as it seemed and right next to the doors you saw one of the maidens with a smile on her lips. "We were informed that you might need this my Lady" She bowed down a little and handed you a black mask that would cover the upper half of your face, silver and many little gems decorated it, truly beautiful. You put it on immediately, it was finished with a soft fabric on the inside so it wouldn't disturb you. With a nod and a smile, you proceeded to enter your golden palace.

The tables were decked with the finest foods, guests already dancing to such lovely music, and young ladies in the corners of the ballroom were giggling about the handsome new gentlemen. 

Your father grabbed you firmly by the arm. "Now go and search for your prince. I want you to lure him in perfectly just how we taught you" Your stomach turned at those words, your family did indeed show you how to win the hearts of men and the attention of others, manners and manipulation were now your weapons. "I will do my best father." With that, you freed your arm out of his grip and made your way deeper into the halls, finally out of reach from him. Maybe you could sneak out later on? Get some fresh air and some freedom before every minute of your life becomes a nightmare, you shook your head, that thinking wouldn't get you anywhere not today or in the future.

A light tap on your shoulder brought you back to the ballroom and you turned around to find a tall dark-haired man in front of you. "You seem lost my little dove" His voice was like medicine to your soul but you couldn't make out who it was. His mask covered almost his complete face, nothing but his lips and the piercing green eyes were to be seen. "Oh I am certainly not but it is very kind of you to be so concerned about me, may I ask who I'm talking to?" You put on a sweet smile and let the honey slip into your voice. A dark chuckle vibrated from his chest. "My My you don't seem to be from around here as it seems." He took a step towards you and you felt how a shiver went down your spine. "Let's just enjoy ourselves, no need for names." He said offering you his hand and with every cell of your body you knew that it was wrong to take said hand but you couldn't fight the urge to know more about him, he sparked an interest deep within you. "Only one dance, sadly I have other plans for the evening." You placed your hand in his and immediately he pulled you closer. "That's too bad, you seem like a great company and so familiar too." He snaked one arm around your waist as you placed your hand onto his shoulder. "Well, I am certain we have never met, I would remember you for sure." The next song played and you could feel how he lead you both perfectly along with the rhythm, he was a marvelous dancer as it seemed. "Oh, I'm sure you would." He answered with a grin as he spun you around. "Do you know the King's family?" You still had to find Your prince or father would make sure your head was not on your shoulders anymore once you arrived back home. "Yes, I do so, very well even. On the hunt for the princes My Lady?" His grin just grew and he pulled you closer to his chest. "On the hunt for one at least, I want to learn more about him." A rush of heat reached your cheeks, dancing with your teacher at home was one thing but with a charming stranger was another. "Maybe I can help you then? Which one of the princes were you looking for?" You seriously had to think for a moment, it seemed as if you were losing your mind. "The firstborn, Thor Odinson." The grin on his face vanished in the blink of an eye and his body tensed up a bit. "Are you sure that he is the one you were searching for?" His voice was sharper than before and the look in his eyes became dark. "Very much so" You sighed and continued. "I am promised to him already, so even if I wanted things to be different it wouldn't matter." You felt how your heart became heavy and the lump in your throat grew until it was getting hard to swallow. He simply said; "I see." The song slowly came to an end.

"You might have found him" He stopped in his tracks, letting go as he looked over you. "I see you're already making yourself familiar with my brother?" The whole atmosphere changed as the two men stared at each other "I heard that you were on the search for me."

So this was your future husband? Long blonde hair, blue eyes, looked like he came straight out of a fairytale but if that was Thor then that must've meant that you were dancing with... "Loki Odinson?!" You turned to him and he chuckled quietly. "The one and only" He raised his mask a little so you could see his face. "Already trying to trouble my future wife?" Thor made a step forward and laid a hand on your shoulder, it didn't feel right. "I would never do such a thing, I was simply chatting with her about how nice the evening is." A dangerous grin came over him and he stepped back from you and Thor. "My apologies to both of you, I didn't want to cause any problems." You showed your respect with a small curtsy and you felt how the tall blonde softly squeezed your shoulder. "Do not worry Lady (Y/L/N) everything is alright." Thor gave you a small smile, his brother however tensed up as soon as your name fell "Lady (Y/L/N)? As in (Y/F/N)?" You nodded. "How do you know me already?" 

One swift motion from him and the mask on your face was gone, you yelped in surprise and took a step back, only to bump against the older brother. "Loki! Have you finally lost your mind!?" Thor called out and pulled you closer to him.

"What is it with you!?" Loki almost screamed at you "How can you be so ignorant?" His hands were balled into fists, he seemed angry but the look on his face was different, almost like he was... hurt? " I - I'm sorry I don't know what you mean." You hastily said but he was already storming off, pushing away other guests and making his way deeper into the palace, leaving you perplexed and a bit scared.

"Do not listen to him" You heard Thor's deep voice behind you, trying to comfort you as it seemed. "He was never the one for friendliness" You were still looking in the direction in which he basically fled. "If you say so." You lost yourself in a sea of thoughts the waves of questions coming over you one by one. How did he know you? Why would he be so angry and why didn't you remember him?

“Will you allow me the next dance with you, My Lady?” Thor’s voice let you come back to reality and you turned around to face him properly, now back to the original evening plan of being a sweet little girl for your prince. “Of course My prince.” You answered with a setup smile and a curtsy. “Please no need for such formalities.” He chuckled and pulled you closer to him, he was in his armor which didn’t give you much warmth, he was also way more muscular than Loki, his movements weren't as elegant. The list inside your head was going on and on.

Both of you danced together for a few more songs but your mind was somewhere else, everything that happened today was so strange and surreal you would've expected so many things but not what really occurred. It got late and the first guests were leaving already, trying to get out before everyone else would want to do so too. "It was such a pleasure to meet you." You said with a sweet smile. "I do hope we meet each other again before the wedding and everything." Thor returned the smile and placed a kiss on the back of your hand. "I do hope so too My Lady and again apologies for my brother." Right, you almost forgot about that part of the evening. "It's alright, siblings can be difficult, I guess?"

Reach out if you want to be tagged in the next chapters or other fanfiction thanks for reading <3

He nodded and you removed yourself from the conversation with a quick goodbye. Now you only had to find your father to finally leave this damn palace.

Chapter 2

[cupsofsuga]

Hello! This is the anon from before (the dolt who sent in a request not knowing they were closed), if it's okay, can I please ask the yanderes when or what moment did they know that YN was destined to be with them? Or rather, when did they fall obsessively in love with them?

send me an ask! - X

gif creds - X

thank you for sending me an ask, wildflower!

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐉𝐈𝐍

━━━ Just shy of 15! As the horrors of high school advanced in ridden leaves and hot apple cider, Jin found himself longing for a lost lover. His sublime-drowned blossom; his honey-infused summer. Y/N L/N, the beauty whose face adorned every love song to cease to exist. You had drifted apart from the beginning of middle school and had left Jin to long for infinity and your breathless romance. God, he just misses you so much. So much, he has truly forgotten what it means to feel anything. He can't pray violence on those who stole you away, he can't beg to the stars for his flowerchild to return home. He must sit and welter within this eternal, empty ache. And as the school bell sings its song, he feels it. There you were, blowing bubblegum with your California heart, just on the corner of the sidewalk. There you were, so feverish and real. Therein, Jin feels his heart bloom under the early September sky. With you, he can finally feel.

❝ Jesus, what are you doing to me? It’s like you’re in my veins and I can’t escape you! ❞

𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈

━━━ At the café! Vulgar poison stains Yoongi's throat as hours pass by like Autumn winds. There are no words to explain this loneliness— dependent like bloodstains and velvet silence, but before the silence of eternal nights swallows him whole, you in your pink moonlight, effervescent glow catch the young boy off guard. Yoongi chokes on his cherry bubblegum, feeling his heart elate with the blood of June. He is flustered, fascinated, in every means enthralled with a single stranger. Yoongi couldn’t put his finger on what was just so… captivating about you. Eye-to-eye contact is ethereal enough, but he pleads for these neon feelings to be mutual. He wants to reciprocate all the delight, euphoria, and sunlight you have so generously gifted him. Whether that’s by slaughtering this planet till we are nothing but dust or littering his studio apartment with crumbled sheets of failed poetry, he’ll do it in a heartbeat. Yoongi would do anything and everything for you.

❝ Oh, my Y/N, I swear… If stars could speak, you’re name would be whispered throughout this entire galaxy… ❞

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊

━━━ Walking home from school! As the boy jumps into rain puddles with his damp, yellow converse, an alleyway stripped on sunlight stands before him. Hoseok then ventures into the darkness, right before the finding you, a black sheep who laughs in amusement at his fear. Now, he had presumed you to steal his lunch money or force him to do your homework, just like the rest of the junkies, but he had been greatly mistaken. You offer him a seat, as well as a swig of the cheap whiskey you kept at your knee. With that smile— oh, that laughter. Hoseok had found warmth in the silver-stained, cold moon. You, the blossoming of delicate lilies, robbed him of his heart with that sultry smile and rough voice. He is stunned into adoring silence, for there is no way someone this beautiful is talking to him, let alone acknowledging his existence. Life is no longer saturated and instead filled to a brim with hallucinations and nymphs. Life is now bold.

❝ You’re so… pretty… Gosh, I really want to kiss those bruises all over your knuckles. ❞

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍

━━━ In the library! Namjoon visited the estate frequently in hopes of catching sight of the purple swan who somehow possessed the strength to soothe the cracks and clots of sorrow that bathe within his heart. There was always that alluring essence you possessed, but god, finally talking to you? It’s like lullabies against whispered starlight; melodies of unspoken folklore in the light of Summer. Oh, it is everything to drown in you. This dull life Namjoon has endured has finally been given light. And this man is willing to bleed himself dry if it means keeping the loss of twilight within his possession. He longs to be the one that can see the roots of your smile, to taste the tears of your eyes in July, to find just how far the depths of your soul may reach. It is endless, this battering heart of his. As you speak words of petals and angel’s feathers, his heart faints for what seems like the millionth time since he had first laid eyes on you. You have gifted him berries in winter’s embrace, gifted him meaning in a sea of soul’s dust. At last, you have given Namjoon life.

❝ I am still stunned into silence by just how special you truly are… How do you do it? Be so incredibly beautiful in a world like this? ❞

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍

━━━ At his father’s meeting! You sparked up a conversation, complimenting Jimin on his judgment of books with daylight within your irises. Just with that small act of kindness, so much joy grows within him at once, he fears his bones may shatter under the weight of it all. He has found an enchanted garden as he gets drunk off the hazy pink skies and nymph’s songs. He tastes cotton candy within your expression, manifested cupid’s kiss within the depths of your soul. Jimin has found the pure heart of an angel within you, a single stranger whose fate has been declared by a single compliment. From staying up till 4AM crafting a scrapbook littered with polaroids, loving messages to his lover and souvenirs from previous dates moments (including a single strand of your hair he found on his shoulder once) to redoing a batch of brownies 13 times in a single day all because you said they were your favorite, this boy is desperate to feel his heart elate when you speak your honeyed validation. Jimin loves you and that shall be the end of it.

❝ My sugarplum, your voice itself could make flowers grow! It certainly makes my heart grow, heh! ❞

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆

━━━ The night of the theatre play! Taehyung gazes into your eyes for the sum of the movie and perceives himself enchanted with the war zone of your mind. How you tilt your head like a puppy when you're pondering over a scene or how your lip gently curls when a specific line or shot grips your liking. Oh, you are heaven beneath the mystic moon! As the evening drenched in honey nectar comes to an end, Taehyung trails after you back to your estate. And this was merely a pinprick of the blooming that will occur after. Little did he know of just how sweet this grey life can blossom into. An infatuation, like the first sunrise in the meadow after a heavy winter, flutters through his ribcage. Taehyung is willing to mold and shape himself to become the perfect boyfriend for someone as captivating as you. This may sound generic as every cliche fairytale you’d find etched into golden pages, but every time he looks at you, it’s just - fuck - he can’t imagine living a single second without you. You are addictive and Taehyung cannot seem to let you go.

❝ If someday the moon calls you by your name, don’t be surprised, because every night I talk to her about you. ❞

𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐊

━━━ Town’s sweetheart meets the burnout! It was only supposed to be some stupid school-project, not a star-stained stroll through the ethereal trails of Versailles. You were only supposed to be a fleeting stranger, not a reminiscence of a summer morning’s moonflower in its complete bloom. But, you’re just so warm. Those would be a fool not to fall for such a seraphic soul like yours. The personification of sunshine, the manifestation of Venus. Oh, you are such a dream! This idea plagues Jungkook’s mind with paradisiacal intentions through the depths of midnight. He dreams of the melody of birds and the velvety sound of your voice as he rocks himself into an empty slumber, ignoring the burden of his father and the rodents at school. Although the revelation that he’d wake up alone in his cold sheets lingers within the back of his mind, the idea of awakening to your illuminating face melts any form of negativity. Such a fate engrossed with charm and an angel’s battering heartbeat to wake up with you every morning. Oh, one day. Maybe one day…

❝ I don’t care who calls me greedy, I am a selfish lover. I want you all to myself. Mine, mine, mine! Mine only… ❞

[pckarchives]

beneath the cut , you’ll find random tidbits of info that i thought up at unholy hours of the night. took all day but tbh ..... this was therapy. i really said, “i’ll make my own damn self happy,” and it shows.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟏.     ›     alicia marie levesque boyd-whitley.

► hobbies ➔ painting and decoration, primarily. for the most part, this is due to the nostalgia of doing it with her moms. she’s not awful at it, but she’s not van gogh levels of good, either. it’s just for fun, as all things should be. she’s also incredibly creative, so things like renovation ideas come easy to her. she did ballet for several years, but dropped it before she moved to beacon hills. ► social media handles ➔ she’s aleesha on just about everything. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ mostly conventional, with a series of emojis attached to every name. ► favorite color ➔ green. but sea foam-ish green. ► favorite video game ➔ animal crossing new horizons. she’s a simple bitch; she sees cute animals, she plays the damn game. ► favorite song ➔ style by taylor swift. ► favorite scent ➔ pumpkin spice! not to be totally cliché, but that scent is unbeatable. she has a million candles with that scent alone. ► favorite band/artist ➔ taylor swift, of course. ► favorite place to be ➔ nana’s house! ► favorite season ➔ winter! she had so much fun with lucy over this past winter and if that’s the way lucy acts every year for christmas, then alicia looks forward to it! ► favorite word ➔ squishy. ► favorite meme ➔ maybe so.gif ► if they were an animal ➔ cheetah! ► if they were a color ➔ beige. no longer the pure white she once was, but not the tar pit that she could have been, either. a beautiful mixture of purities and imperfections. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *going through the five stages of grief* HHHHHHHHH !!!!! someone just slid in my dms and *voice cracking* this is what they said.... *sobbing* gIRL.... *sniffle* HNNNNNN..... you should sell hoT DOGs.... ‘cause you know how to make a weiner stand. hNNNNNN.... HNNNNN!!!!!! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ shake it off. ► aesthetic ➔ paint-stained overalls, tear tracks covered in glitter and flower petals, crooked fingers snagging the last slice of pizza out the box, thick-framed glasses with the lens popped out, it’s for the aesthetic, sharpie’d converse kicks and open hearts doodled onto the palm of your hand –– darling girl, someone will really love you one day. ► motto ➔ “it really do be like that sometimes.” ► theme song ➔ lights up by harry styles.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟐.     ›     amari rose kent.

► hobbies ➔ writing, mostly out of spite. in middle school, she had a meeting with the principal, during which he told her she was at risk of being expelled, due to how many teachers had issues with her. this was the same principal who told her she would never get anywhere, hanging off of tate’s coattails, so she wrote a 50-page paper in the span of one week, shaming the school for its discrimination and unethical practices when it came to students. instead of giving the paper to the principal, she submitted it to the board of education and got the man fired. not only did the essay make it onto local news, it also got her a scholarship to devenford prep; lucky, since tatum had already been offered a scholarship and was on the verge of turning it down because she wouldn’t go without amari. though she hasn’t spitefully written anything that huge since, she is still not afraid to thinkshame. also dabbles in poetry and collage-making. ► social media handles ➔ amari_rose on twitter and instagram. she surprisingly does not have a snapchat! ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. at best, she’s giving nicknames. ► favorite color ➔ black. ► favorite video game ➔ she doesn’t play video games, so she doesn’t know. ► favorite song ➔ bad guy by billie eilish. ► favorite scent ➔ not to kinkshame, but.... leather. ► favorite band/artist ➔ billie eilish, she is not ashamed! ► favorite place to be ➔ wherever tate and owen are, honestly. ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ bullshit. ► favorite meme ➔ thA’TS MY OPINION !!!! ► if they were an animal ➔ panther. ► if they were a color ➔ silver. black is a hard color to obtain and she hardly comes close. she’s got all the darkness she doesn’t need, but the world put that in her. still, she’s close to light, too; close to breathing in sunlight. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ to the mIDDLE SCHOOL TEACHER –– yes, YOU, you know who you are –– who said EYE would never be shit, LOOK AT ME NOW, WHORE ! LOOK AT ME NOW .... not shit. and HOW YOU LIKE IT ? *twerks belligerently* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔  sad beautiful tragic. ► aesthetic ➔ messily chopped hair in the bathroom sink, tongue poked out to lick ketchup off of nimble fingers, rushed words in a lost diary, a bottle drifting out at sea, cigarette smoke and tequila-coated daydreams, harsh breaths in and out and in and out, bruised knuckles and bleeding lips, we’re not done here. ► motto ➔ “chin up, chest out.” ► theme song ➔ all the good girls go to hell by billie eilish. alternatively, kiwi by harry styles.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟑.     ›     camden wesley layton lahey.

► hobbies ➔ he took up woodworking a few years back. therapy and whatnot. he likes making little birds and figurines out of wood, keeps a box of them in his nightstand. ► social media handles ➔ he’s not on social media! he’s old, leave him alone. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ very conventional. again, he’s old, leave him! ► favorite color ➔ grassy green. ► favorite video game ➔ he’s always going to be a sucker for mario party. that game is unfairly frustrating, but he would ride or die for it. ► favorite song ➔ i of the storm by of monsters and men. ► favorite scent ➔ peppermint! it used to make him sick, because it’s such a strong smell, but it’s now his absolute favorite thing in the world. ► favorite band/artist ➔ gorillaz. ► favorite place to be ➔ he honestly prefers closed spaces? tight spaces where he can see every corner, every entrance, every exit, every tile on the floor. whenever he starts panicking, he will sneak away to the nearest closet or something. ► favorite season ➔ spring. rebirth, babyyy. ► favorite word ➔ dammit. ► favorite meme ➔ it’s free real estate. ► if they were an animal ➔ german shepard. ► if they were a color ➔ light pink. this strange mix between the pure white of being a blank slate and the awful red of having spilled more blood than he can even remember. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ AWWWWWWW 😍😍 awww, i’m gonna die alone 🤗🤗🤗 awww !!! i’m never gonna know what it’s like to be LOVED, AWWWWWW !!!! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ holy ground. ► aesthetic ➔ sweat-dotted skin, racing heart, jingling dog tags, checking the locks on the door once and then again and then again and once more just to be sure, hesitant hands and wet eyes, a smile that’s easy even when nothing else is, sunlight pouring in through a cracked window, a step closer to an answer, five steps back. ► motto ➔ “sure, jan.” ► theme song ➔ clint eastwood by gorillaz.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟒.     ›     charles gerard argent.

► hobbies ➔ someone should tell him that working out isn’t a personality trait, but it really is his hobby. your depression can’t catch up to you, if you’re getting these gainz. ► social media handles ➔ he’s charliecharlie on everything, because he’s funny. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ it used to be creative, but man, that depression hit him hard and he switched to conventional. ► favorite color ➔ white. ► favorite video game ➔ fortnite, shut the fuck up, liam, he doesn’t want to hear it. ► favorite song ➔ perfect ruin by kwabs. ► favorite scent ➔ salt water. ► favorite band/artist ➔ clairo. ► favorite place to be ➔ at the beach. he takes frequent drives up to the closest beach, ► favorite season ➔ summer. beach time! all the time! ► favorite word ➔ yeet. ► favorite meme ➔ y E E T. ► if they were an animal ➔ raven. ► if they were a color ➔ a myriad of colors; there are so many facets to charlie and until he figures out exactly where he is in life, he’s going to keep creating a puddle of colors. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *dancing and singing to the tune of under the sea* ptsd 🤪 anxiety 🤪 crippling depression, there is no question, you should kill me !! let me be with HARAMBE 😤✊ i feel like shit every day ! i’m asking nicely, do it by drowning, under da sea 🌊🌊 ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ getaway car. ► aesthetic ➔ that damnable water’s edge, the view from the top of a mountain, gnawed fingernails and scraped skin, 11:11 and back again, holstered knives and picturesque smiles, droplets of blood spilled into cold coffee, palm grazing the door to happiness but not quite opening it yet ––– another day and you might just make it. ► motto ➔ “que ce sang protège ceux qui ne peuvent se protéger.” ► theme song ➔ broken bones by kaleo.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟓.     ›     cora vienna hale.

► hobbies ➔ lowkey has a love of mechanics. she doesn’t trust anyone else to repair her bike, so she learned how to do it herself. also learned how to fix cars, because scott is always messing his up. also still plays soccer when she has the time. ► social media handles ➔ she’s just corahale on everything. it’s more “professional” than what she had before. which was... a series of expletives that made lydia blush. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, unless she really hates you. then she can get creative. ► favorite color ➔ black. ► favorite video game ➔ detroit: become human. ► favorite song ➔ hold on just a little while longer from d:bh. luther snapped. ► favorite scent ➔ pinecones. ► favorite band/artist ➔ bryson tiller. ► favorite place to be ➔ the hale house. it feels good to be able to go there again and not be assaulted with all of the reminders of what she lost. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ buttercup. look her in the eye and tell her it’s not the cutest word you’ve ever heard. exactly, you can’t. ► favorite meme ➔ looks into the camera like she’s on the office. ► if they were an animal ➔ lion. ► if they were a color ➔ gold. pure and beautiful; maybe not innocent, maybe not for everyone. but royal and bold and unrelenting. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ sO... .i just went to starbucks and i got my iced coffee and i was standing in line and these little girls were looking at me. *sniff* and i was like, “okay, funny joke.” so i, um, i’m s–– i’m waiting for my coffee, uh, at starbucks, and these other little girls were just, like, LOOKING AT ME and they kept on staring and then this DAD kept on looking and then he kept on staring. and *uncomfortable laughter* ....... *more laughter* ..... *turns on music* *keeps laughing* *turns music off* what kind of sick fucking joke ? .... *uncomfortable shrugging* ...i EXIST ? *more laughter* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ clean. ► aesthetic ➔ a horrid red fire meets a river of blue, gasoline stains on faded tees, an unexpected smile on a rainy day, the way the forest breathes after a rainstorm, skintight dresses and haughty gazes, a smirk that rests for no one, the innocence of a white wolf in a prom dress. ► motto ➔ “flectere si nequeo superos, acheronta movebo.” ► theme song ➔ big god by florence and the machine. alt. the man by taylor swift.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟔.     ›     daniel nahele mahealani.

► hobbies ➔ he no longer loves hacking or music, because... whew, high school killed everything he cared about. mostly sticks to being lydia’s dress up doll. ► social media handles ➔ he’s d-annyboy on all things, because it’s easy! ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, unless he’s trying to hide something from jackson and lydia. lydia is not afraid to go through his phone, which he genuinely doesn’t mind, that’s why she knows all of his passwords and stuff. but he does not need her to know how many guys he’s fucked that she didn’t like, he’s not here for the lectures. ► favorite color ➔ red. ► favorite video game ➔ wii sports still outsells, he is not taking criticism or debate on this topic. ► favorite song ➔ magic in the hamptons by social house. ► favorite scent ➔ hot chocolate. ► favorite band/artist ➔ childish gambino. ► favorite place to be ➔ at the risk of being gay, wherever theo is. ► favorite season ➔ autumn. ► favorite word ➔ pack. he loves feeling loved, sue him. ► favorite meme ➔ kermit spreading his asshole. ► if they were an animal ➔ elephant. ► if they were a color ➔ orange; just on the cusp of happiness, but always holding back. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ hEY GUYS, i’m just really co–– really confused, ‘cause what does fall have to do with fuckboys 🧐🤔 ‘cause I’VE been fucking boys .... EVERY MONTH, winter, fucking februarymarchaprilmay, june, december... dULY ... *someone taps on the trunk of the car* *looks back* ...that’s my dad *frantic zoom-in* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ afterglow. ► aesthetic ➔ scar-littered skin and callused hands, abandoned hobbies and hopes and dreams, all stashed to the back of the infamous closet, dimples cheeked and optimistic eyes, high school jerseys folded in the drawer, letterman jackets treated like sacrosanct, the memory of when things were simpler and the rain didn’t last so long.  ► motto ➔ “this could be worse.” ► theme song ➔ clementine by halsey.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟕.     ›     derek alexander hale.

► hobbies ➔ book collecting. as their lives continue to not make sense, he collects books on any and every odd ‘myth’ out there and just waits for the day it comes in handy. ► social media handles ➔ lydia has made him dhale on everything, because he’s boring. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ very conventional. he now has a lock on every app in his phone, because fiona and lydia will happily break into his phone to change his contacts, if he’s not careful. ► favorite color ➔ black. ► favorite video game ➔ he doesn’t often play video games, but he will school these youngsters in a game of yahtzee! ► favorite song ➔ when doves cry by prince. ► favorite scent ➔ something baking in the oven. ► favorite band/artist ➔ prince. no, he is not talking about it. ► favorite place to be ➔ the hale house, when the entire pack is there. close second is the loft, when everyone is there. he’ll complain until he’s blue in the face, but everyone knows he’s secretly weak for that. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ no. ► favorite meme ➔ blinking white guy. ► if they were an animal ➔ i... a wolf. ► if they were a color ➔ tree bark brown; steady and stern and stable. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *standing at the bathroom door, glaring* if it breaks. one more time. don’t ––– shut your mouth. if it breaks while i’m sleeping, i will grab you by the neck and shove you down the shower drain. *continues to glare* ......... i’m going to take my shower now. *slowly and threateningly closes the door* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ daylight. ► aesthetic ➔ shattered handcuffs, ashes spread across the floor, delayed inhales and painful exhales, a pool of flowers at your feet ––– begin again. ► motto ➔ “no.” ► theme song ➔ sinnerman by nina simone.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟖.     ›     dominic joseph kim.

► hobbies ➔ yoga, meditation, brewery, skin and haircare routines, and swimming! a king stays busy. ► social media handles ➔ he’s domkimi on snapchat, instagram and twitter, but he’s baddiebbarbietingz on reddit. he has a tumblr account, but he refuses to tell the pack what his username is. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ creative. feel free to look through his phone, but good fucking luck figuring out who is who. ► favorite color ➔ gold. ► favorite video game ➔ sims 4. he gets the chance to actually build a sustainable life? with a family? in a house? with cheat codes? and love? and aliens? and lovers who become plants? sign him the fuck up. ► favorite song ➔ would you mind by prettymuch. good form by nicki minaj is a close runner-up. ‘cause he do, in fact, be the baddie b barbie tingz banging body b, everybody be on his d, cause he gotta be in reality–– ► favorite scent ➔ pizza! if it’s not good for you, why does it smell so good? make it make sense. ► favorite band/artist ➔ prettymuch. ► favorite place to be ➔ tate’s lab! it’s where he and owen do most of their brewing, aside from their field trips to the greenhouse to get more ingredients. it’s basically where dominic does his best and calmest work. close second is his own apartment, because he does yoga in the living room each morning. ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ cecelia. ► favorite meme ➔ who said that.gif. ► if they were an animal ➔ a turtle! specifically, one of the turtles from finding nemo. ► if they were a color ➔ blue. calm and collected. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ so i said i’m a switch on tiktok, right ? and now all these ladies are comin’ out of the woodwork like, “hey, i got a strap-on and a dog collar with your name on it ! ” 😳😳 and i’m like... you put my name on it ? 😍👉👈  /// alternatively: theee necklace my boyfriend bought me just came in the mail *zoom in on necklace* ....I’M my boyfriend ! i bought this for myself ! EEE *excited grin* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ style. ► aesthetic ➔ the push and pull of a tidal wave, a dash of eyeliner here and a bit of mascara there, collared shirts and wrinkled jeans, overrated pop over a bluetooth speaker, a fascination with milkshakes and musicals, a heart that beats out of rhythm but never misses a step. ► motto ➔ “the birds work for the bourgeoisie.” ► theme song ➔ good thing by zedd and kehlani.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟗.     ›     elliot james aldridge.

► hobbies ➔ aside from his bathtub poetry and crime, he has revived his love of cooking and music. is masterful at the piano, guitar and harp, dabbles in cello and flute. he likes his music pretty, okay, sue him. ► social media handles ➔ redacted by the fcc. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ depends on how much he likes you! if you’re kosher, you get a creative name. if not... you get your own name. ► favorite color ➔ blood red. unironically. ► favorite video game ➔ he’s a poker man, but if he has to choose a video game, meet him in super smash brothers. ► favorite song ➔ say so by doja cat. ► favorite scent ➔ blood. ► favorite band/artist ➔ hozier. ► favorite place to be ➔ no offense, but the french quarter in new orleans. ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ self-care. ► favorite meme ➔ why would you say something so controversial, yet so brave? ► if they were an animal ➔ hyena. one of the asshole ones from lion king. ► if they were a color ➔ red. he’s not hiding that. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ i’m not falling, i’m not falling, i’m not falling, i’m not falling, i’mnotfallingi’mnotfallingi’mnotfalling, i’m not f a l l i n g, i’m not FALLING, i’m not falling, i’m not falling, i’m not fALLING....... !! *deep breath* oKAY, i’m falling. /// alternative: the oNLY reason i have not destroyed the world is because i have not had ice cream in a while, i want some ice cream. but tRUST ME, when i get some ice cream ? your ass is grass and i’m the lawn mower ! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ ready for it? ► aesthetic ➔ a hoop of sterling silver, initials carved into dying trees, tempting eyes and a charming smile, cufflinks left on the nightstand, a prison cell and a funny story, top three buttons left undone, far too aware for his own damn good. ► motto ➔ "excuse me, i'm new in town and it gets worse." ► theme song ➔ sunlight by hozier.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟎.     ›     erica juliet reyes.

► hobbies ➔ tracking deucalion and peter, for one thing, but that’s more of a job than anything else. does raving count as a hobby? she’s officially taken up rock climbing, by the way. a huge slap in the face to her epilepsy. ► social media handles ➔ she changes her handles frequently, because she’s indecisive, she can’t decide–– but she’s currently reyofsunshine on everything. shoutout to fiona. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ creative and often explicit! ► favorite color ➔ sand brown, don’t @ her. ► favorite video game ➔ until dawn. understand the palm of my hand, bitch.... jesus hot sauce christmas cake.... what were you tweeting, hashtag there’s a freaking ghost after us? your fave could never! ► favorite song ➔ hot girl bummer by blackbear. ► favorite scent ➔ lucy or fee’s baking. she’ll come home just for that. ► favorite band/artist ➔ blackbear. ► favorite place to be ➔ at a party. she’s very into raves. ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ motherfucker. ► favorite meme ➔ respect the drip, karen. ► if they were an animal ➔ a horse. enticingly beautiful but will also kill you. ► if they were a color ➔ gold. not as pure as cora’s gold, but twice as inviting. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ all i’m gonna say is that i didn’t take ap classes in high school, escape the friend zone, graduate with honors, get cheated on, go to college, mentally deteriorate, become addicted to nicotine, sign a year lease, drop a sorority, fail chemistry and dye my hair purple, just to cry over the frat boy leaving me on read that smokes weed for breakfast, lunch and dinner 💁🏼 ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ false god. ► aesthetic ➔ push-up bras covered in black lace, smeared lipstick against the bathroom mirror, jeans that leave nothing to the imagination, a wolf that lies in wait and fears no god, the epitome of poison. ► motto ➔ “meanwhile, back at the ranch...” ► theme song ➔ needed me by rihanna.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟏.     ›     fiona evelyn porter.

► hobbies ➔ baking, pinterest, cheer, volleyball and softball. truly depends on the season. ► social media handles ➔ feezypeezyporter stays true to her brand. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ creative! her contact ids are indecipherable, the only people who can understand them are katie and cass. dom gave up. ► favorite color ➔ light green and light pink! ► favorite video game ➔ beat saber! ► favorite song ➔ love again by carly rae jepsen. ► favorite scent ➔ is.... is it gay to say cass? ► favorite band/artist ➔ carly rae jepsen. ► favorite place to be ➔ the loft! it really is her happiest place. alternatively, wherever cass is, ‘cause that’s home, babey! ► favorite season ➔ spring! baby sticks to her brand. ► favorite word ➔ braggadocio. how on EARTH is that a real word? ► favorite meme ➔ let me see what you have. a kNIFE! NO! ► if they were an animal ➔ cardinal. ► if they were a color ➔ green. the color of grass, covering everything, everything, everything. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *crying and sipping tea* it... is ver .... very b... bold of you to assume ............. ! *pained smile*  /// alternatively: ONE OF YOU FAT BITCHES UNFOLLOWED ME !!! *manic laughter* i’m not mad, but like...... *climbs onto bathroom sink and leans in very close* what was the last straw ? ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ me! ► aesthetic ➔ bare lips passing over green leaves, a lullaby to a struggling orchid, spanks and sweat drops and a desperate need for approval, a digital scale blinking red numbers back at you, pills of white and blue and yellow, maybe tomorrow you’ll be happy again. ► motto ➔ “team work makes the dream work!” ► theme song ➔ work this out from the high school musical 2 soundtrack.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟐.     ›     hayden louisa romero.

► hobbies ➔ she has a love of sports. got into lacrosse before her imprisonment, though she was a little too fragile to play a real game. was a soccer star as a kid. also puts on glamour shows for the kids and the dogs, if they ask. ► social media handles ➔ she doesn’t have social media. imprisonment tingz. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. at best, you get an emoji or two at the end of your name. ► favorite color ➔ ocean blue. ► favorite video game ➔ will forever be weak for pokémon. ► favorite song ➔ 1985 by bowling for soup. timeless. ► favorite scent ➔ french vanilla. ► favorite band/artist ➔ she’s getting into melanie martinez. ► favorite place to be ➔ bias goes to being with the ito pack, but the preserve is pretty much paradise. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ covenant. ► favorite meme ➔ and i oop––– ► if they were an animal ➔ manta ray. harmless babey. ► if they were a color ➔ prism clear. a maze of reflections, but so fucking breakable. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ you mess with ME ? w ..... ! y...... ! *vague hand movements* you probably aren’t gonna experience any problems, because i’m afraid of confrontation !! /// alternative: *struggling to place lamp inside of another lamp* i JUST TOOK A TEN HOUR NAP ??? *panic* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ it’s nice to have a friend. ► aesthetic ➔ scars lifted among tanned skin, wary glances to read every room, crop tops floating above your belly, a lack of cares for a world that cares a little too much, marked skin and glossed lips, wanna make a deal with an angel? ► motto ➔ “my priority is me.” ► theme song ➔ i know by pink sweat$.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟑.     ›     judith wendy mayer-argent.

► hobbies ➔ biking! she does it primarily for work, but she also does it for fun. also, huge gamer. and protestor. baby keeps busy. ► social media handles ➔ mayerjude. she can make so many jokes out of her own last name, don’t tempt her. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ creative! unless it’s someone important or authoritative. then they get their own name. ► favorite color ➔ sunshine yellow. ► favorite video game ➔ fornite. ► favorite song ➔ sunday candy by donnie trumpet and the social experiment. ► favorite scent ➔ cupcakes! the frosting! the delicacy! ► favorite band/artist ➔ maroon 5. ► favorite place to be ➔ in the middle of a protest, rally or march. if she’s not in action, then what is she doing? ► favorite season ➔ spring. ► favorite word ➔ audit. ► favorite meme ➔ surprised pikachu. ► if they were an animal ➔ dolphin. ► if they were a color ➔ sunset orange. no, i will not elaborate. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *walking down the street* so we were peer reviewing papers in one of my classes aaaand this girl goes, “you use some FANCY LANGUAGE ! ” and i was like, “what word ? ” and she was like, “perpetuate.” .........on GOD, we gon’ get you a dictionary. ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ don’t blame me. ► aesthetic ➔ sunflowers pushing up from freshly dug graves, a smile away to keep the doctors away, sprained wrists wrapped in inappropriate laughter, bruised knuckles and black eyes, drink in hand, swinging your hips to that voicemail left by your toxic ex-boyfriend. ► motto ➔ “just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming...” ► theme song ➔ modern love by david bowie.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟒.     ›     kali kaira laghari.

► hobbies ➔ knitting. she has abandoned all of her self-care and therapy ideals, now knits and talks to ghosts. mind ya business. ► social media handles ➔ she’s not on social media, either. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. she has no times for games. ► favorite color ➔ red. she’s a scorpio, what do you expect? ► favorite video game ➔ not to be controversial, but she’ll take mortal kombat any day. ► favorite song ➔ nintendo game by alessia cara. ► favorite scent ➔ tea! ► favorite band/artist ➔ alessia cara. ► favorite place to be ➔ aside from wherever rohan is, she prefers the bookstore. confrontations aside, it’s a very small space, quiet and relaxing. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ goddess. and yes, for exactly the reason you think. ► favorite meme ➔ as a treat. ► if they were an animal ➔ scorpion. ► if they were a color ➔ smoky grey. everything’s a little hazy with this one. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *staring at the food on the table, slowly losing her mind while everyone else argues over murder* *holds head in hands* *bangs hands on table repeatedly, screaming* WHAT ARE WE THANKFUL FOR !!! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ i did something bad. ► aesthetic ➔ cross-legged sitting in the middle of the road, waiting for a new thrill, fingertips grazing the harsh blade beneath your skirt, popcorn and wine with a man you could’ve loved if you were both a little less fucked up, a question that should never be answered, a world-view that should never be defiled –––– and you did it all. ► motto ➔ “i don’t need permission or advice; just help.” ► theme song ➔ simmer by hayley williams. you should see me in a crown by billie eilish.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟓.     ›     kira fuyuko yukimura.

► hobbies ➔ she trains to keep herself calm. often talks with her fox nowadays; she wants to build trust. and given that kira is doing fuck all to deal with her issues, she needs someone to talk to her. she and her fox get along a lot better these days. she also runs, practices lacrosse maneuvers on her own and plays with lightbulbs.  ► social media handles ➔ she’s a simple woman: kyuki. cut the fluff, cut the extraness. also, kyuki is what she’s named her fox.  ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, save for people who warrant a creative one. aka those whose names she doesn’t know. you would be surprised at how many there are. ► favorite color ➔ purple. ► favorite video game ➔ also a fan of animal crossing! ► favorite song ➔ ahead of myself by the ambassadors. ► favorite scent ➔ cinnamon. ► favorite band/artist ➔ the ambassadors. ► favorite place to be ➔ it’s dorky to say, but she likes being with her parents! they’re still in new york, so she doesn’t get that chance as much. however, her second favorite place to be is.... her bed. ► favorite season ➔ autumn. ► favorite word ➔ poppy. ► favorite meme ➔ guess i’ll die.png ► if they were an animal ➔ truly a fox. ► if they were a color ➔ steel blue. baby is electric. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ i might be a BIG, DUMB, GAY BITCH ................ !! *smirks at camera* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ cruel summer. ► aesthetic ➔ a thunderstorm in your bedroom, leather gloves pulled over dainty hands, quick footwork and sly gazes, untied shoe laces dragging across the floor, leggings beneath skirts, quiet meditation before bed, sharp teeth poking into bruised lips. ► motto ➔ “yeah, this isn’t weird at all.” ► theme song ➔ fall in line by christina aguilera and demi lovato.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟔.     ›     liam stephen dunbar.

► hobbies ➔ lacrosse no longer counts as a hobby, considering he made it his entire life. does training with allison count as a hobby? does texting gwen bad jokes count? ‘cause that’s all he does, my guy. ► social media handles ➔ he’s dvnbcr on everything. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, until fiona gets her hands on his phone and changes his ids again. ► favorite color ➔ red. ► favorite video game ➔ he’s that guy who plays all of the 2k nba games. like, he has to stan. ► favorite song ➔ i don’t care by fall out boy. ► favorite scent ➔ turf. he’s a loser, what do you expect? ► favorite band/artist ➔ fall out boy and kendrick lamar are tied. ► favorite place to be ➔ the lacrosse field. he does not stray from his brand. ► favorite season ➔ autumn. lax season! ► favorite word ➔ shit. fuck is a close runner-up. ► favorite meme ➔ i’ve won.... but at what cost? ► if they were an animal ➔ rhinoceros.  ► if they were a color ➔ gray; that perfect intersection between white and black, good and bad, wolf and bomb. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *talking to his mom while she’s watching tv.* hey, mom? will you pause that? you know that guy i’m talking to is 6′4″? can’t wait to get my shit wrecked. so you are a bottom. ...wait. okay, i.... that’s not what you’re supposed to say! what am i supposed to say? don’t –– not that! *goes to sit next to her* i’m 👏 not 👏 a 👏 bottom 👏. bullshit. *confused look of betrayal* is this legal? have you ever done anything for anybody else? no, you’re a taker. /// alternatively: *trying to start a fire* hope so ! you gonna let the fire breathe or you gonna fuckin’ suffocate it ? i will end your goddamn short ass piece of shit useless life. ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ this is why we can’t have nice things. ► aesthetic ➔ a rage that you can never quite tame, hand broken from too many punches, the green of fresh cut grass, car mileage piling up, miles and miles and miles left to go, bashful smiles and reddened skin. kid, you’re not nearly as bad as you think you are. ► motto ➔ “i blame scott.” ► theme song ➔ dr. whoever by aminé.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟕.     ›     lydia charlene martin.

► hobbies ➔ sewing clothes, throwing parties, picking up new languages, ruling the world, saving this pack from falling apart, doing everything in this goddamn house! ► social media handles ➔ queenlydia, but who’s surprised? ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ convention meets creativity in lydia’s phone. everyone has their first name, with a lord/lady/duke/duchess/etc. attached to it. jackson is the only one with king, obviously. you know you’re in trouble when she attaches peasant to your name. good luck climbing your way back up the ladder. ► favorite color ➔ pink. ► favorite video game ➔ not to be controversial, but dead by daylight is that bitch. ► favorite song ➔ honey by kesha. ► favorite scent ➔ strawberries. ► favorite band/artist ➔ kesha. ► favorite place to be ➔ in jackson’s arms, she is not taking that back. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ throne and jackson are tied. ► favorite meme ➔ why are you booing me? i’m right! ► if they were an animal ➔ swan. ► if they were a color ➔ purple. royalty is not a game, kids. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ not a vine or tiktok, but yes, it’s me 💅🏽 & you guys are mad about it ohmygod i make y’all feel that 🤢 well, i just wanted to pop up here & show y'all how i'm doing ! i'm doing great. i'm looking great, i'm feeling great, y'know 💇🏽 i'm obviously over here very booked & busy, while you bitches over here are still looking raggedy & not doing shit ! hahaha ! WOW ! 💁🏽 but anyway, um, i just wanted to let y'all know i'm not going anywhere. so talk your shit, you shitholes ! you can't defeat a bad bitch ! you just cannot do that ! i rise above that ! EW 🤮 so i just wanted to say hey ! & that i'm here to stayyy ! & you gon' be mad everydayyy ! HAHAHA ! SUCCESS ! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ paper rings. ► aesthetic ➔ a crown that fits just perfect, newly manicured nails, breakfasts at tiffany’s and on decorated balconies, the picture on the altar, damp curls and loose braids, tight dresses and sinful heels, brave but never fearless. ► motto ➔ “i’m lydia fucking martin.” ► theme song ➔ okay, okay by alessia cara.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟖.     ›     scott lucas mccall.

► hobbies ➔ video games! he also likes helping the pack renovate whenever they decide to. though he has put fiona on a limit. after she redesigned her room five times in two weeks, he finally had to put his foot down. ► social media handles ➔ he is the most disorganized of the bunch. he’s scootermccall on snapchat, scottymccall on instagram, scotthewmccall on twitter because he’s weak for whatever fiona asks. it’s a mess, but he’s not changing. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, but with lots of emojis to show he cares. ► favorite color ➔ red. ► favorite video game ➔ he wants to say mario kart, because that’s his and lucy’s thing and, um, he’s in love with her. but other than that! life is strange. he hasn’t figured out how to win yet, but gosh dammit, that’s not going to stop him from trying.  ► favorite song ➔ dna by lia marie johnson. ► favorite scent ➔ lucy’s perfume! ► favorite band/artist ➔ panic! at the disco. ► favorite place to be ➔ at the vet! he’s so happy when he’s around animals and it feels good to know that he’s helping these animals get better? ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ lucy. ► favorite meme ➔ i’ll be honest, i can’t read. ► if they were an animal ➔ golden retriever. ► if they were a color ➔ yellow. speaks for itself. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ i had an essay that was due at 11:59. instead of being a smart, responsible student, i decided to wait until 11:40 .... to START my essay. i finished the essay on time. but the gag is............. it was a five-page essay. and i got it done in sixteen minutes. *dancing* they gon’ hate me regardless, that’s why i do what i do ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ state of grace. ► aesthetic ➔ a lighthouse drawing in the lost, the open door of a sunken ship, wrongly buttoned plaid shirts, clumsy fingers and stumbling feet, saddened eyes that follow healing hands, the suspension of disbelief ––– whatever that means. ► motto ➔ “everything will work out!” ► theme song ➔ only the young by taylor swift.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟗.     ›     tatum coretta bellfleur.

► hobbies ➔ nanotech mechanics! she learned as a way to make things for owen and amari that they couldn’t afford to buy. won a few competitions, got a few scholarships, got into programs that taught her how to do greater things than she’d ever imagined. took up baton twirling at devenford, but gave it up when she got to college. fiona is trying to convince her take it up again next year. ► social media handles ➔ she’s tatertot on everything, courtesy of one judith mayer. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. keep it simple, thanks. ► favorite color ➔ silver! it’s so pretty. ► favorite video game ➔ death stranding. no, she will not elaborate. ► favorite song ➔ mo money mo problems by notorious b.i.g.  ► favorite scent ➔ flowers! ► favorite band/artist ➔ tupac. yes, she is that bitch. ► favorite place to be ➔ her lab. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ free. ► favorite meme ➔ you know i had to do it to ‘em. ► if they were an animal ➔ doe. ► if they were a color ➔ white. no matter how much she hates being protected, she’s the picture of purity. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *sitting in front of a mirror.* maybe.......... i’m the problem 🤨 ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ out of the woods. ► aesthetic ➔ a blanket of snow covering the grime and pain of yesterday, contained explosions and soft humming, tight ponytails breaking cheap rubber bands, tongue poking out the side of your mouth, the sun peeking through the slits of your blinds, wondering where you’ve been these last couple’a days. ► motto ➔ “i’ve lived through this before, i’ll live through it again.” ► theme song ➔ 100 years by florence and the machine.

[writevswrong]

FANFIC * NESSIAN * PART EIGHTEEN

Nessian Part Eighteen by L.J. LaFleur

Nesta:

I adjusted against the wet floor, unable to stay asleep. The fabric of my tunic provided little cushion between the stones and my ribs. I exhaled heavily, hoping my worries would flee with my breath. Usually Feyre’s lullaby would put me right to sleep but I couldn’t get the echoing roars out of my head.

“Do you need a distraction?” Eris asked quietly.

Awkwardly shifting into another uncomfortable position, I gave up, lying flat on my back. “I’m fine,” I lied.

Eris began to sing in a language I had never heard. His gruff voice transitioning into something angelic.

I tilted my head towards him, opening my eyelids just enough to not seem too interested.

Fire danced from palm to palm, a story to match the flow of his hymn. Amber eyes watched me through the rising fire, no doubt observing my lack of stealth. Flickering flames lit his face, dancing shadows unveiling his many masks.

Staring at the little fire figures, my breath hitched. Two amber bodies, hand in hand as they walked through a burning forest. I swear I could hear their laughter as Eris continued singing. Entranced by the two beings, I turned on my side to get a better view.

Entangled within one another, I could hear their passionate moans. My soft cheeks tinted red in response. Howls in the distance spooked them. The figures quickly stood, leaving their clothing behind as they booked it through a maze of foliage.  

My eyes glanced to Eris, a single tear trailing down his face. I looked back at his hands, at the breathless creatures he held so tenderly. The wolves closed in, launching towards the smaller figure first.

His voice cracked, another tear escaping his long lashes as he watched the pack surround them. The song grew darker, shifting to an ominous tone. The wolves edged closer; my heart erratically beating as I heard their pleas for mercy.

I wiped the tears from my eyes, knowing all too well what was to come next.

But the wolves disintegrated, a different picture being created as he twitched his fingers upwards. I stole a look at Eris, he was focused on his palms--his voice softening. The bodies of fire slowly danced from one hand to the other and back again.

I found myself utterly attached to his foreign words.

Before the song ended, I felt myself drift. Even as I tried to pry my eyes open to watch the ending—I couldn’t stay awake. One more glance and the silhouettes had slowed to a stop. They were barely moving, wrapped up in one another to form one large flame in the center of Eris’ palm.

My aching heart softened, the rhythm matching that of his song. I let the darkness swallow me. Sleep welcoming me with open arms.

The hallway seemed longer than before or maybe it was just the anticipation that slowed my steps. I needed to see what I had done. I needed to witness the aftermath of my burning rage. I quickened my pace, pausing just before the doors of the library.

I held my breath, carefully pushing the doors open.

Exhaling quickly, my eyes nearly popped out of my head. The demolished library had been fixed. Lacquered shelves nailed to their original place; hundreds of books replaced. No trace of the carnage I had left behind yesterday.

I grinded my jaw, the unnerving feeling of being watched tingled the hairs on my neck. I ignored the warning signs, the smell. Instead I headed to the right side of the room, towards the section of poetry I had shredded just before the end of my undoing.

Guilt had filtered through the cracks of my anger. Tearing the pages became more difficult as the seconds ticked on. But I kept going…until he stepped forward. It wasn’t until after he left, after I cried for what felt like hours—that I had a moment to focus on the devastation around me.

My bloody fingers brushed across aged parchment. Blurry eyes focusing on the beautiful handwriting. The name and title ripped away; a mystery because of my own insanity.

 You are the mountains

I am the sea

Both rumble, sometimes unheard

Sometimes unseen

 You are the moon

I am the sun

Both light the infinite darkness from here

And beyond

 Mates, I pray

Mates, you say

 You are the mountains

I am the sea

We are infinite

In time, in death

We are one

It’s destiny

 Mates, you pray

Mates, I say

 Why that poem had caught my eyes then, why the pages of several more sonnets of the sea drove me mad--I didn’t know. But I needed to read, I needed to find some peace in this prison.

My healed fingers traced down the edge of the shelf, hunting for a title that might stand out.

Guilt riddled me to my core, years of it taunting me. It was more finetuned now, focusing on the worst parts of my past. I knew that I was exhausted but I needed to stay awake. If I didn’t…I, I drowned. Asleep or awake, I was drowning--in that fucking cauldron, all over again.  

Not only did I need to stay awake for my own sanity, but for Elain’s too. She wasn’t the same. Whatever she faced, whomever it was, it changed her forever. It took her innocence, her heart.

I didn’t trust any of them, even if Feyre did. She had trusted Tamlin once. Feyre had loved him, his people—the same ones who came for me and Elain.

And one day, I would kill them all. For Feyre, for Elain and for me.

I lost track of looking for the book of poetry. My trembling fingers paused at the end of the shelf as I tried to control my uneven breathing. The darkest parts of me threatened to escape, to embrace the fragile heart in my chest.  

“No tantrums today, Nes?” Cassian quipped from the doorway.

He was here the entire time, watching me as I internally struggled. I knew that much. Inhaling through my nose, I adjusted to his overpowering scent. As much as it corrupted my senses, it somehow comforted me. It even smelled warm, if that was possible--like an ageless fire.  

Devastatingly slow, I turned to face him. “Do not call me…” I stopped while scanning his hard body. Lines of blood slid down his obsidian wings, “you’re injured.” I scowled, pressing my lips together in a solid line.

Memories flashed before me, blocking reality. Images of his twitching fingers lifting towards me as crimson gushed out of his shredded wings; his fading light. My stomach churned, the burning acid rising.

Cassian shrugged, “I’m still healing, I guess.” He bit his lower lip, holding back.

“I thought you were immortal,” I pushed. Why was I still talking to him? Why did I care?

“Immortal in a sense. But it doesn’t mean we don’t bleed.”

My eyes traced over him again, “are you following me?” The sight of his blood stirred the nausea further.

Terrors of that nightmare sunk their teeth in my mind. A puddle of blood formed beneath his boots, spreading across the floor as it had on the day my human life ended.

Cassian’s pupils flared, his tone darkening, “what is it?”

“Nothing,” I snapped before thinking.

His brows rose, the familiar smirk retreating.

I observed the sweat that dripped down his neck, as if my vision had zoomed in like a magnified glass.

Cassian sighed, releasing the words that plagued him, “I’m sorry.”

I stayed silent, raising my chin as I studied him further. A face of confliction, of determination and angst yet unnerving sadness still lingered. His dark hair tied tightly in a bun; loose strands tapered off in different directions like snakes. He flew here, on damaged wings and a broken soul.

“I’m not one to break promises,” Cassian shuffled forward, trapping me against the wall of poetry. “What they did to you…” Ponds of hazel ignited, an endless inferno.

The knot in my throat grew as I thought back to the cauldron again. I straightened my spine, our bodies nearly touching.

“What they did to me?” I asked softly, a taste of sweetness before the deadly poison. “You have no idea. Not even an inclination as to the…” I paused, my voice close to breaking. “You are not the first to fail me, nor will you be the last.”

Cassian loosened a low growl, “is that supposed to enlighten me?”

“It’s supposed to humiliate you.” I spat out; pulse sputtering. I pressed my hand into his burning chest. He was so hot to the touch, yet the color was leaving his naturally bronze cheeks. “I was a fool to think a lowly bastard would keep his word. Would protect me and my family.” I withdrew my hand and stepped around him.  

A snarl shook the shelves around us. I froze mid-step, waiting for his cruel reply. 

His raspy voice barely above a whisper, “I held on because of you.”

Turning on my heel, I barked, “held onto what?”

Cassian crossed his arms, crimson lines threatening to stain his clothing. His expression fell--the anger peeling off of him, replaced by frigid stone. “I’ll leave.”

“Well, bastard commander, please do.”

Cassian bared his teeth, sending shivers down my back. He bit his tongue before saying his retort.

A silent apology filtering out of his eyes.

He had noticed, shit. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to show my emotions. I wasn’t flustered before, I wasn’t so distracted before the cauldron.

That damn cauldron.  

Cassian’s demeanor shifted, a serpent tongue licking his lips seductively. “When you come to accept this sick twist of fate, when your bones quake with longing and your heart beats with desire. Just know, Illyrians have had hundreds of years to practice,” his eyes lingered over my breasts then back up, “to fuck.” Cassian smirked at my flushed cheeks, “whenever you’re ready, Nes,” he winked while stepping away.

“Pig,” I breathed, I could feel the warmth racing to my chest. Rosy patches filtered up my neck, threatening to stain my skin forever. “You’re a disgusting pig,” I muttered. The anger distracted me from my moment of shame and weakness.  

Cassian’s deep chuckle cut off. His eyes widening as blood dripped from his mouth.

“Cass? Cassian?” I sternly asked, my brows knitted together as I watched him drop to the floor. As the oozing crimson seeped out of his ravaged wings, I heard his cries of pain.

The surrounding books began to rattle violently. Library walls crumbling beside us.

I launched forward, crumbling to my knees, towards Cassain’s limp body. “Wake up,” I begged, “wake up…”

Where we once stood, a tomb of knowledge, had disappeared completely. The room became clearer as I whirled around…I knew this chamber. My gray-blue eyes flickered to the small dais that led up to the cauldron.

“No…” I whispered, my eyes darting from Cassian to the cauldron. Not here, I couldn’t be here—not again.

Cassian laid on his stomach, his torn wings spread out. Tendrils of scarlet racing towards the cracks in the floor.  

Feyre, Rhysand, Mor and Azriel…all of them with a clear picture of horror on their faces. A blend of rage and agony—all helplessly watching.

My eyes burned with tears as Elain was thrown out of the cauldron, riding a wave of death till she smacked into the floor. Before I knew it, I screamed—threatening curses rushed out of me in between roars. Hands tightened around my arms, restraining me from leaping forward.

The King of Hybern lifted his chin towards me, “the hellcat now, if you’ll be so kind.”

I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak. My focus on Elain shifted to Cassian. He had sworn to protect me, to protect her. The pounding in my chest shattered my ability to speak. Cassian wasn’t moving—slumped on the floor in a pool of blood.

The penetrating ringing in my ears muffled all other sounds.

He was gone.

Dead.

Guards hauled me forward—towards the cauldron.

I pulled and shoved, I fought and I would fight until they killed me. I would not go in. My nails dug into their armor, shredding what skin I could reach. I threw my leg into one guard’s groin; bucking with every step. But the guards were too strong, there were too many.

My racing heart, my hollow breathing…I was not enough. I could not save Feyre, Elain nor myself.

They hoisted me up to the water of my demise. My bare feet hit the waiting liquid. It was cold and wrong, making bumps race across my skin. Something was beneath the surface, I—I couldn’t see it. But I somehow knew.

The dark water whispered my name, beckoning me to sink.

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta…

I thrashed and kicked, I would not go in. I couldn’t go in. Cursing roars rushed off my tongue but I didn’t feel it. I couldn’t feel anything as I looked one last time at Cassian. His hand was in a different position than before, like he had reached forward but failed to move any further.

Could he be?

I was thrusted in, dark water up to my covered shoulders. My last chance, I thrashed forward—liquid spewing at the guards who held me down.

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

An icy thing touched my bare foot, caressing up my calf—I screamed.

My bloody fingernails clawed at the men again. This time scratching two in the face, nearly taking out their eyeballs. No, no…I couldn’t go beneath the surface—for whatever was waiting for me, I would surely die.

“Put her under,” the king hissed.

Three guards shoved my shoulders down, then pushed on the top of my head. I kicked my legs, hoping to stop whatever creature waited beneath. Freeing my arm of one guard’s grip, I pointed in defiance. Baring my fangs, I delivered a cursing finger, a death promise for Hybern’s head.

At once, all three men crammed what little of me remained above the surface into the pool of fate.

Frigid water enveloped me, caressing every curve. An icy hand dragging me deeper. I didn’t look down, afraid of the monsters that swam beneath. I was scared to face what latched onto me.  

I had to get out, I had to swim away.

The singing whispers grew louder, piercing my eardrums the farther we went.

I slammed my foot on the monster’s grip until I was released. My arms reaching towards the light as I attempted my escape.

The icy grip pulled on my ankle, tightening when I jerked in response. A bloodcurdling scream evaded my chest. Water entered my mouth, flooding my lungs. The iron hand adjusted around me, tighter and tighter as it dragged me down.

The more I coughed, the more ice entered my core. My eyes bulged, staring at the distant surface. I could feel life escape me, the only thing keeping me awake was the burning sensation that tore apart my throat.

The descent into darkness stripped me of my human form. Corroding the flesh of Elain, of me. Tears drifted out of me, engaging with the body of water I was trapped in.

This is where I die; where this world ends and another begins.

 Cassian:

It was too fast—everything that was happening. How out of control the situation had become. Spreading my wings, I let the searing talons of magic shred through me. Horrific screams released from my core. The only way I knew I was still alive, that I was still fucking breathing was because of her screams.

The King of Hybern seethed, “put her under.”

My legs locked into place, scraps of my wings remained but I pushed forward. An inch, barely that—as I lifted my arm towards her. Blinded with rage and agony, I tried to get up. I had to get up.

I had promised her. I gave my word that I would protect her and her sister. It was too late for Elain, but…I had to reach her.

The gods-damn guards pushed her in, shoving her beneath the surface.

“Nesta...” I breathed, a surge of fire bored through me as I stared up at her. She couldn’t hear me, instead she had lifted a finger—a vow to end him.

I had never been prouder.

Sliding to position, I waited till their focus turned to Feyre who was vomiting across the floor. Pulling myself closer to the cauldron, little by little as the room remained focus on the other Archeron sisters. Moving forward, I released a muffled moan…my bloody hand reached forward. I dug my fingers into the crimson cracks and pulled. A trail of red behind me; I kept moving.

Close. So damn close. I could make it.

I launched to my feet, nearly passing out from the pain and dived into the cauldron. Multiple guards tried to pry me out but I swam deeper, faster—as if my entire future depended on it.

Light filtered down, illuminating Nesta’s body. Her eyes nearly shut, she was fading. Nesta’s limp arms held out towards the surface. She had to know I’d come for her. My lungs burned the farther I went, but I was too close now. Coils of blood swirled in the water, clouding the distance between us.

Blindly, I reached out for her hand.

I clutched onto an icicle. Nesta. I needed air. I needed to get us out. I tugged, pulling myself down to her. Blue lips and a pale complexion…

Nesta…

Wrapping my arm around her waist, I shot us to the surface. Something grabbed at my boots, trying to drag me back down. I raised my leg, putting what remaining strength I had into that kick.  

Whatever it was, it had let go. We were free.

My wings held us back, a weight of despair piling on. I couldn’t lose her.

Breaking through the surface, I gasped for air. The bloody water drained off our faces. Slamming my body into the side of the cauldron, we tipped over. Red hued water gushed onto the floor, our bodies sprawled next to one another.

“Nesta?” I got to my knees, quickly crawling towards her. The shattering pain in my spine made me cry out it pain. “Shit!” I yelped as I nearly collapsed on top of her. “Nesta…” I flipped her on her back, forcing my calloused hand down. “Breathe, Nesta. C’mon…” I muttered, pressing my lips to hers.

A wall of tears built in my eyes, “get up—wake up.” I slammed my hand on her again. “Breathe, damn it!” the burning in my eyes increased as I felt the warm tears rush down my face. “Nesta,” my voice cracked, “get up, Nes.” I pressed my quaking lips against hers, tears dripping onto her pale skin.

Water spewed into my face as she coughed. Nesta gasped for air, struggling to get the oxygen down her windpipe fast enough. “Don’t…” Nesta breathed heavily, “call me, Nes,” she finished, still choking on her words.

Without hesitating, I collapsed beside her, our raspy breaths piercing the silence.

“You’re alive,” I nearly cried in relief. My fumbling hand found hers. They were cold, but increasing in temperature.

Nesta stayed silent, still catching her breath.

My eyes adjusted as the stone chamber shifted into something new. Walls of pink, hundreds of shelves filled with novels. We were in her head again, in the place she had never let anyone in. 

“I thought,” I shakily exhaled, trying to keep my emotions in check. “I thought I lost you.”

Nesta turned her head to face me. I could feel her eyes scanning over my silhouette.  

 Nesta:

The ache in my throat prevented me from speaking. Was he here? Or was this another dream? Was there a difference anymore?

“How are you here?” my hoarse voice barely recognizable.

Cassian tilted his head towards me, “I don’t know.” He raised his hand toward my face, wincing in pain as his palm rested on my neck. Cassian’s thumb brushed up and down my jaw line. “You’re alive.”

I nodded, closing my eyes as I let his touch continue. My galloping heart settled, in a trance from his warmth.

“Where are you?”

My eyes shot open, “no.”

“Tell me, Nesta,” his thumb stopped moving. Copper eyes penetrated me, searching for any clue I would give away.

“No,” I sobbed, traitorous tears flooded out of me.

Cassian shook his head, pulling me closer until our bodies collided. “I know you’re in the Autumn Court. I know it was Eris. Where are you?” he demanded, his voice thickening with malice. “Why…why won’t you tell me?”

“Because…”

“Why?!” His voice raised, shaking the surrounding walls. “Why?” He asked again, this time with more control.

I bit my lip, watching as the amber tears didn’t burn his golden skin. Several minutes had passed before I could finally speak.

“You will lose me either way. Whether I’m trapped here or back in the Night Court.”

He exhaled heavily, nearly giving up—but I knew better.

“I won’t stop searching for you.”

“I know.”

“Then tell me,” he stood to his feet, reaching out a hand for me to grab.

For a moment, I saw the damage I had done, the melted flesh of his arm. I sighed, closing my eyes to clear the image. The bastard was head strong, I’ll give him that.

“You don’t…” I grabbed his hand, feeling the electricity pulse through us. Stuck, my words were lost on the tip of my tongue. Something snapped in my chest, a heartstring, perhaps?

Cassian wiped his face, clearing the frustration off his skin, “please…”

“When you come here. When you find me. What will you do?”

“Take you home, wherever that may be for you.” Truth laced his words, the color in his face returning.

I debated whether or not to tell him. Whether I should keep my mouth shut, save him from me. “Maybe I deserve this…the torture, the pain. It’s what I’ve inflicted on everyone else for so many years. It was about time it caught up to me.”

“Save your gods-damn speech for your sisters. You could have murdered a whole village and I would still come after you.”

“Liar.”

He shook his head again, balling his fists as he bit his lip so hard he bled.

Staring at the floor, processing his words--it came to me. “After I take your life, who will be next?” I asked him, repeating Mor’s words that had crushed me.

Cassian’s face fell, transforming into something between anger and realization. “Is that what she said to you?”

“Who?”

“Mor.”

My spine stiffened, mental shields dropping in surprise. The smell of the dungeon filled the air, suffocating our breath with a retched scent. Cassian’s eyes widened. I turned behind me, towards the windows facing the magnolia trees.  

The windows had vanished, unveiling my cell. Eris moved towards me with a worried expression. “Nesta?” He asked, fear rising in his voice. “Nesta?”

“The dungeon,” Cassian said through clenched teeth. Fury lit in his hazel eyes, his inner monster released.

“Cassian, don’t….” I begged, “please”. He needed to stay away, he had to stay alive. They needed him, the family—Velaris.  

“If he lays a finger on you…” he warned, his voice turning guttural, “I’ll kill him.”  

“Cassian,” I pleaded, pulling at his scarred arm, “don’t.”

He wasn’t listening, instead he focused in on Eris, on my cell. Soaking in every detail he needed to find me.

I slapped him, the only thing I could think of. Cassian’s hand lifted to his jaw, holding the sore spot as his eyes ravaged me.

“Listen to me…” I snapped, my heart thundering so loudly that it reverberated off the rosy colored walls. “I will not lose anyone else I lov…” I stopped before I could finish, before I revealed more than I wanted to.

“What?” Cassian’s hand dropped, his questioning eyes searching deeper and deeper into me. “What were you…?”

I swallowed hard, wishing I had just kept my mouth shut. “If you come here, if you die,” my voice shook.

Cassian raised his chin, “I have failed you,” he cleared his throat, “…in more ways than I care to say.” His calloused thumb brushed over my cheekbone. “I refuse to do so again.”

“No…” I begged, “no.” Shaking my head as amber tears grew with a vengeance.

“Flaming beauty,” he smirked, disappearing from my head.

“Cassian!” I screamed, reaching for him only to swat air. “Cassian!” I cried.  

  “Wake up woman,” his voice rang against the stone walls. Eris shook my shoulders violently, fire spreading down his hands and onto my shoulders. “Nesta!”

I gasped for air, unable to focus my eyes on anything in particular. Blurry, everything was just a blend of autumn colors.

“For cauldron sake, woman.” Eris breathed, fire circling down my arms. “Nesta?” He asked more calmly, waving a hand in front of my face.

“What happened?” I asked, hissing at the searing pain on my wrists.

“You were whimpering…then screaming.”

My eyes focused on his auburn hair, dropping to his amber eyes. “Get these things off of me,” I demanded. I winced again, this time from the overwhelming nausea.

“If I take those off, what will you do?”

“What?”

“Who will you…?” Eris stopped, his back as stiff as a column. His chin turned slightly to the left, a pointed ear raising.

“Eris…”

Eris glared at me, a warning. He turned on his heel, “brother, what brings you here so early?”

“I could ask the same for you,” Aedin stepped into the cell, his ravenous eyes finding mine.

The battle of brothers. Words forged with steel. A deadly end for one, if not both.

Aedin laughed without humor, “Ferron wants to see her.” He moved one step too close.

Eris stood next to me, closer than before. He positioned himself between me and Aedin. Eris’ wicked smirk displayed, as he looked me over then back to his younger brother. “I have plans for her first.”

“Father demands it.”

Eris growled, his body turned primal as he quickly grabbed my wrist. Winnowing us away before Aedin could react.

The shadows sung to me, calling me to step away from Eris. Urging me to move through the darkness and swim beneath the surface that separated this realm from another.

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta…

“Eris…” I whispered. Before I could say another word, the darkness disintegrated. We were in someone’s chambers, a bedroom built for the future High Lord of the Autumn Court.

Golden leaf sconces lit with orbs of fire. Tapestries hung on every wall—similar to the ones in the throne room. Carpets with copper threading sparkled in the dim lighting.  

I walked around the room, praying the edge would wear off by doing so. A large bed was displayed in the middle of the chamber. Decadent velvet fabrics hung off the copper frame of the bed.  

“Your room?” I presumed, as I stared at the overtly autumn décor.  

Eris shrugged, “not my taste.”

“What is your taste?” I asked to distract myself from the growing anxiety. Though we were out of the darkness, I could still hear the singing whispers.

“You swam among us. You walked through darkness. You danced in the deep. Until you found, your way to victory. Come play with us,” the voices echoed, “come play with me,” a single, hollow voice sung to me.

Bumps raced across my skin.

His voice.

Not Cassian’s, not Eris.

Not Hybern’s.

The one who haunted me whether I was asleep or awake. A corruption of what little sanity I had remaining.

“Nesta…” He sung to me.

The restraints glowed brighter as the fire in my core sparked. “Ronan...?” I mumbled, glancing to every corner of the room.

His sickening laughter echoed through the chamber.

Acid rose up my throat, searing my esophagus. “Go away,” I muttered, my heart beating so loud I could barely hear his humorless laughter.  

“You need to eat,” Eris interrupted, his bushy brow raised, “who’s Ronan?” He took a long sip from a silver goblet.

My eyes flashed to Eris, to the cup he sipped from. If that was wine or ale, really any form of alcohol--I wanted it. “No one,” I replied, “what were you saying?”

“You need to eat before we enter Ferron’s dungeon. You need your strength,” he said sternly, still keeping a watchful eye on me. Eris held the goblet towards me, “Autumn Court specialty.”

I reached towards the shiny cup, “I thought I was in the dungeon.”

“We have several.”

I could feel myself sink, at an unstoppable momentum as I thought of the hundreds—thousands—who have died on this soil. “How many beings must rot beneath your feet.”

“I’m in the south tower, separated from the others.” Eris observed me as I downed the sweet and spicy cider.

I wiped my mouth, relieved as the alcohol swiftly eased my nerves.

“I couldn’t stand to hear their screams at night,” his voice trailed away, distant memories plaguing him.

“I’m not hungry,” I mentioned, in attempt to reel him back in.  

Eris laughed at my growling tummy. “You say that, but your gurgling stomach says otherwise,” he winnowed out of the room.  

I pressed on my stomach, the chains invading my tunic with a blistering chill. I didn’t bother to protest any further, not to an empty room at least.  

He reappeared with a large tray of food. Setting it on the wooden desk that overlooked the farm lands in the south.

Instantly, my appetite was spoiled by the plate of red.

“Our traditional breakfast. It’s not bad, if you enjoy a healthy amount of spice in your food.” He tried to crack a smile but scowled instead, shaking his head as he focused on the farthest tapestry.

I stared at the bloody sausages, the side of eggs spiced with specks of black and red. The lump in my throat grew as I scanned over a bowl of sliced pomegranates and another filled with spiced gray mush.

Eris pulled out a chair, beckoning me to sit, “is something wrong?”

All I could focus on was the scarlet dripping out of the sausages. Images of Hybern’s detached head flashed before me. I looked at my hands, at the crimson stains I would never be able to wipe off. Vomit threatened to expel from me. Tunnel vision prevented me from looking anywhere else but this damn tray.

Eris slid the food out of view, “what do you like to eat?”

“Hm?” I asked, snapping out of my daze. The orbs of fire grew brighter, illuminating the dark corners of the room.  

“Eat. What do you like to eat?” His amber eyes narrowed, “anything in particular?” Frustration hardening his posture.

“I’m not hungry,” I retorted. Ice racing threw my veins, making its way up my forearm.

Eris sighed heavily, “hopefully your stubbornness will get you through Ferron’s sessions.”

“How many?” I asked coldly, focusing on the farmer’s young son helping guide the horses.

“How many?” Eris asked perplexed, his eyes settling on me.

I finally peered up at him, “how many has he tortured?” The ancient cold from the faebane chains had slithered up my arms, invading my shoulders.

“Enough,” he murmured, wetting his soft lips.

“Will he...?” I couldn’t say it, Tomas and Aedin’s laughter stalked me. Their words slicing into my soul as if it were happening for the first time.

Eris scrutinized every line that struck my face. Every worry that I had felt since being captured. “He won’t.”

“How do you know?” I parted away from the desk, edging towards the window to gain a better view of freedom.

Eris stood beside me, his hands pulled behind his back. “Because I’ll be there to make sure he won’t.” He didn’t look at me, instead he studied a farmer raising his scythe. “Not everyone in the Autumn Court is as cruel as those you have met.”

The farmer brought down the long, curved blade. “You still have yet to convince me.” The penetrating ice worked its way over my shoulders…descending to my heart.

“Am I not proof enough?” He asked incredulously, his jaw tightening.  

Prying my blue-gray eyes off the field work, I observed one of the most dangerous men in Prythian…and criticized him, “you stole me away. You took me from my home.”

The corners of Eris’ lips twitched upwards, “if it was your home, you wouldn’t have run away.”

“I did it to protect them,” I argued, heat flushing my pale cheeks.

Eris’ body shifted, opening himself towards me, “from what?”

“From me.”

In case you missed the previous parts...

ONE

TWO 

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

[ksfd89]

What would someone need to watch, read, or listen to in order to really know and understand you? Basically, what media defines you and made you who you are today? this is super fun!! I was tagged by @glitteratiglue - thank you! I tried to think back as far as I could! I tag whoever wants to do this!

Movies:

Clueless -  I watched this endlessly growing up and I still love it

Little Miss Sunshine - this is probably my favourite film

Pitch Perfect

Donnie Darko - I went through a phase of being really obsessed with this when I was fourteen, and I don’t watch it much now but I’m still very fond of it

The Secret Garden (1993 version)

A Little Princess

Matilda

In America - another film I was really obsessed with as a teen

The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants and its sequel

Mean Girls

Bring It On

Brick - I had a big crush on Joseph Gordon-Levitt but it’s a great film anyway

Night of the Hunter

500 Days of Summer - Joseph and Zooey Deschanel are both great in this but I love this film because it’s such an antithesis to most love stories

My Neighbour Totoro

Kiki’s Delivery Service

When Marnie Was There

Only Yesterday

Your Name

Walkabout

Amélie

Coraline

The Wizard of Oz

Harry Potter films

Pretty in Pink

Definitely, Maybe

Now and Then

Home Alone

The Parent Trap

The Aristocats

Harriet the Spy

Withnail and I

TV:

Gilmore Girls

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Angel

Twin Peaks

Friends

early seasons of How I Met Your Mother

Parks and Recreation

Brooklyn Nine Nine

Grace and Frankie

Frasier

Malcolm in the Middle

The Killing (original version)

Veronica Mars

Joan of Arcadia

Everwood

New Girl

Charmed

Desperate Housewives

Rugrats

Sabrina the Teenage Witch

Clarissa Explains It All

The Raccoons

The Magician’s House

The Famous Five

The Queen’s Nose

Bernard’s Watch

Home Farm Twins

Live and Kicking and SM TV Live

Goosebumps and Are You Afraid of the Dark 

The Simpsons

The Fresh Prince of Bel Air

Scrubs

Doctor Who (mid reboot)

Sex and the City

Black Books

Father Ted

Books:

All of Judy Blume

The Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys

Persuasion by Jane Austen

Delta of Venus by Anaïs Nin

Eve Green by Susan Fletcher.  I read this religiously at one point

Windfalls by Jean Hegland.  I haven’t read this in years but it was very formative to my teenage years, and made me very pro choice

Into the Forest by Jean Hegland

Frost in May by Antonia Barber.  Another one I haven’t read in years, but made a big impression on me

The Greengage Summer by Rumer Godden

The Story of Holly and Ivy by Rumer Godden

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

The Anne and Emily series by LM Montgomery, and The Blue Castle

The Babysitters Club books

Point Horror books

Milly-Molly-Mandy stories by Joyce Lancaster Brisley

The Georgia Nicholson books by Louise Rennison

The Puddle Lane series - I was taught how to read from these

The Harry Potter series

His Dark Materials

The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants series.  The last book was atrocious, but anyway

The Princess Diaries series by Meg Cabot

The Illustrated Mum by Jacqueline Wilson

The Family From One End Street by Eve Garnett

Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild

The Smell of Other People’s Houses by Bonnie-Sue Hitchcock

Walk Two Moons, The Wanderer and Chasing Redbird by Sharon Creech

Raspberries on the Yangtze by Karen Wallace

Make Lemonade by Virginia Euwer Wolff

Saving Francesca by Melina Marchetta

Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta

The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir

A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf

The Waves by Virginia Woolf

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith

The Chronicles of Narnia by CS Lewis

The Diary of Anne Frank

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Feeling Sorry for Celia and its sequels by Jaclyn Moriarty

The Ramona Quimby series by Beverly Cleary

The Zillah books by Helen Dunmore

The Little House series by Laura Ingalls Wilder

Anything by Alice Munro

Shelter by Frances Greenslade

The Firekeepers by Margaret Laurence

Come Back to Sorrento by Dawn Powell

Member of the Wedding by Carson McCullers

Eva Luna by Isabel Allende

The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter

The Dive From Clausen’s Pier by Ann Packer.  Another teenage love

Lost It by Kristen Tracy

The True Meaning of Cleavage by Mariah Fredericks

What My Mother Doesn’t Know by Sonya Sones

Pippi Longstocking and Lotta by Astrid Lindgren

Maisie Middleton by Nita Sowter

The Jennings series by Anthony Buckeridge

Lucy Runs Away by Catherine Storr

Marianne Dreams by Catherine Storr

Once in a House on Fire by Andrea Ashworth

Beatrix Potter stories

Enid Blyton mystery and school stories

Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

Bad Blood by Lorna Sage

A Ring of Endless Light by Madeleine L’Engle

Be True to Yourself by Amanda Ford

Music:

I’m really bad at identifying musical taste.  It’s easier just to pick out songs which I dislike.  But as an attempt, I was very into Placebo as a teenager, Avril Lavigne and Coldplay, and I still enjoy 80s pop and artists which were very popular in the mid-2000s for nostalgia.  Random albums I love include Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming by M83, Parallelograms by Linda Perhacs, The Free Design and anything by Sam Phillips.

Other:

Plays - Romeo and Juliet, The Tempest and a Midsummer Night’s Dream

Musicals - The Buffy Musical

Poetry - Ariel by Sylvia Plath, Is That the New Moon? by Wendy Cope, Songs of Innocence and Experience by William Blake and Practical Cats by T Eliot

[mp100ficrec]

Author Highlight Thursday: thejapanesemapletree

Author of A Risk of Going Through a Doorway Is That It May Be Locked Shut Behind You (they drew this cool art for a scene from this one) and the Ships at a Distance Have Every Man's Wish On Board-series.

thejapanesemapletree is a master at character dynamics, whether friends, family or lovers, with genres ranging from fluff to humor to hurt/comfort. Also the one and only source for KamuToku, as well as other minor characters interactions (Kamuro+Ritsu! Reigen+Shinra!!! The Telepathy Club!!).

Their writing style is so, so neat!! Like, really, they got that perfect balance of description - of appearances, similes, of feelings with a more distant view, and direct stream-of-consciousness feelings, - as well as dialogue. It’s soothing, even when the content itself is heartwrenching.

(I also consider their works character studies, because their grasp on the characters is just that good.)

A Risk of Going Through a Doorway Is That It May Be Locked Shut Behind You

Completed. Rated: T. Word Count: 43.309

“"You're always you, and that don't change, and you're always changing, and there's nothing you can do about it." (--Neil Gaiman, 'The Graveyard Book')”

I’ll scream about this fic until the end of dawn. It’s the plotty dad!Reigen fic I didn’t know I wanted. (Also, Mob and Teru meet in gradeschool here, so they’re childhood friends! Dimple playing a prank on Tome! Mogami-Arc Fix-It!! All the Ritsu angst and all the hurt/comfort for everyone)

Its ending also leaves more than half the Claw Arc open, which is hella frustrating, but hey, you read the plotty, finished and well-written part - this fic is a blessed fucking gem.

Ships at a Distance Have Every Man's Wish On Board

The ongoing KamuToku-series of not always related pieces, some of which focuses on the aftermath of other parties involved in the Clean-Up Arc. 

Wine and Flowers

gen!KamuToku. Completed. Rated: G. Word Count: 629.

““All gods who receive homage are cruel. All gods dispense suffering without reason. Otherwise they would not be worshipped. Through indiscriminate suffering men know fear and fear is the most divine emotion. It is the stones for altars and the beginning of wisdom. Half gods are worshipped in wine and flowers. Real gods require blood.” (--Zora Neale Hurston, ‘Their Eyes Were Watching God’)”

A much needed fic of Toku caring for Kamuro’s wounds, in- and external<3

Masses of religious imagery, calm down there, golden trash boy.

Vision of Roses and Pear Blossoms

A company piece to the first. Completed. Rated: G. Word Count: 623.

““She stood there until something fell off the shelf inside her. Then she went inside there to see what it was.” (--Zora Neale Hurston, ‘Their Eyes Were Watching God’)”

Tokugawa calls Ritsu out this time! (Boy, do I love how young and bitter they write Ritsu.)

Again, religious imagery. Ritsu also has issues.

Rose-Colored Horizons

KamuToku. Completed. Rated: G. Word Count: 621.

““When God had made The Man, he made him out of stuff that sung all the time and glittered all over. Some angels got jealous and chopped him into millions of pieces, but still he glittered and hummed. So they beat him down to nothing but sparks but each little spark had a shine and a song. So they covered each one over with mud. And the lonesomeness in the sparks make them hunt for one another.” (--Zora Neale Hurston, ‘Their Eyes Were Watching God’)”

Kamuro monologues about his feelings for Tokugawa as they kiss while watching TV. Nautical Imagery joins the religious one and the latter isn’t as prominent anymore.

Flower Poetry

KamuToku. Completed. Rated: G. Word Count: 1312.

““It was not death she feared. It was misunderstanding.” (--Zora Neale Hurston, ‘Their Eyes Were Watching God’)”

Tokugawa gets more or less helpful love advice from his siblings and gives Kamuro a gift. 

Here’s my favourite quote: ‘Maybe they would not have a wedding celebration of flowers and wine, or fit the roles that Haruna wanted them to, but it was not about that or her. It was about them, and what they had now, and if that was only chocolate, then so be it.’

Water Lilies

Onigawara Tenga/Mariko. Completed. Rated: G. Word Count: 1587.

““Some people could look at a mud puddle and see an ocean with ships.” (--Zora Neale Hurston, ‘Their Eyes Were Watching God’)”

In which Mariko (Tenga’s childhood friend) reminisces and apologizes. Can’t say I share the author’s fondness of the ship, but it’s nice to see such a minor character developed, not to mention how cute flustered Tenga is!

Stovetop Poppies

KamuToku. Completed. Rated: G. Word Count: 933.

““Whut is it dat keeps uh man from gettin’ burnt on uh red-hot stove—caution or nature?”

(--Zora Neale Hurtson, ‘Their Eyes Were Watching God’)”

They cuddle! Tokugawa confirmed as having a pet. This is the piece with the least amount of imagery as of yet,