#This one reminds me of Dirk so I wanted to use it for him but I need actual ideas that line up with the lyrics

[harpoonsnotspoons]

I don't care what anyone says but the random ass choked off whimpers in The Sharpest Lives is hot as fuck

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[yanderu-deredere]

line.

★ you and your friends accept the gracious invite a couple of strangers extended to you. they didn't seem all that bad and, in fact, you get a bit attached to them! they're really kind after all...

a/n: here's the second part. i'm writing this before ive published the first part so here's crossing my fingers, hoping that first part gets good reviews loool this should be published the day after so! hope i didnt make yall wait to long!

like i warned in the first part, these yanderes are inspired by slashers. the first part didn't include any violence but this part might. i'll include in the warnings if it does. please heed the warnings! thank you!

part one (hook.) ★ part two (here) ★ part three (sinker.) ★ part four (?)

pairing: casimir fiala x reader x emmaline fiala word count: 2393 warning: gender neutral reader, reader is attracted to males and females, readers friends suck even more, reader is kind of pervy in this one, final ship is poly

When the entire group finally entered the couple's house, you were met with a hallway entrance. Unlike the outside of the house, the inside was nice and well-maintained.

"Pretty sweet house." Dirk wolf whistled as he walked ahead and looked around, his bag slung behind his shoulder. Chloe giggled at him as if what he said was a joke. You honestly didn't understand.

Of course, Bran had to put his two cents. "Pretty sweet for a glorified security guard."

"Shut up, don't be rude." You couldn't help but defend the couple a little, a frown marring your lips as you watched Emm look curiously at her husband, only for Casimir to roll his eyes as if to say 'Don't get me started'

Before you could venture further into the home, you felt a rough shove from beside you. You tried your hardest not to fall over; not an easy feat considering the hefty pack on your back.

When you glanced at who shoved you, you weren't exactly surprised to see it was Kathy. She mouthed at you to shut up, probably annoyed that you were telling her boyfriend off.

She had a weird notion that only she was allowed to do that.

Rolling your eyes, you just gave a curt nod and went on your way, trying to stick close to the couple and avoiding your friends who were oddly striking nerve after nerve with you today.

You weren't surprised. After years of the four of them keeping you around to use you for their own bullshit, you had gotten tired of it and tried to distance yourself.

Why did you even let them talk you into going on this trip?

Maybe a part of you still felt some sort of friendship for them. After all, even though they'd been terrible to you, you were good friends with them for a long time and that wasn't something easily forgotten.

Call it stupidity or some misplaced sense of loyalty.

"Make yourselves at home." Emm gestured to everything before pointing to the stairs directly at the end of the hallway "The third floor's off limits 'cus that's where we're at but everything is on the second floor."

"There is two guest bedrooms there and a shared bathroom." Casimir elaborated as he hung up his rather drenched lab coat "Usually, we keep it for the in laws and close family. They stayed recently so the rooms should still be good and clean."

"Why would anyone want to visit here..." You spotted Chloe running her fingers along a table by the door with a bunch of knickknacks on it, frown evident on her face

Emm tossed her motorcycle keys Chloe's direction and she had to snatch her hand back just to prevent it from smacking the back of her hand.

"We're not allowed a lot'a vacation days so family have to visit us here if the wan'a spend time with us." Emm easily explained, shrugging as she hung up her motorcycle helmet before just unceremoniously placing her elbow pads right next to her keys.

You ignored how much that didn't make sense and opted to look into one of the door ways branching off of the hall way.

Dirk was right, though. Their house was pretty impressive for an abandoned little town.

It reminded you of those historical movies set in rural Georgia or something; a lot of wood furniture, with the open wooden beams in the ceiling, and a lot of family heirlooms cluttered everywhere.

The room you specifically looked into was a living room, complete with a fire place and a creepy looking mirror hung above it.

The couches at least looked nice but they also looked ancient, with the floral patterns looking like they came from someone's Grandma's linen closet.

"No windows?" Kathy walked up next to you, taking every step like she was about to walk into a trap.

You would've rolled your eyes if you didn't think she would've shoved you into the rather nice coffee table as retaliation.

You gestured to a rather large window to your left but she just scoffed at you "That's a door."

You walked closer to observe and were surprised to be proven correct. It was a door. You could see something like a garden through the gauzy curtain covering the panes of glass.

"The lack of windows make it a little gloomy in here." Bran appeared right next to Kathy, arms crossed as he pretended to shiver from how scared he was of the bad lighting.

Kathy just laughed but you shook your head.

As you turned around, the three of you were suddenly blinded with light and, though you couldn't say the same for Bran and Kathy, you definitely jumped a little.

At the entrance of the living room, Casimir stood, his hand on a light switch and a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I am in charge of dinner, as I am every night. I was going to cook a rather nice scotch fillet for me and my wife. I have some extras I was going to save for later this week." He explained, drawing his hand away from the way to tuck it behind his back "Any allergies? And how would you like your steak cooked?"

"No allergies in the group." All the anxiety in Kathy's body seemed to evaporate at the thought of getting free dinner "And I love having my steak done medium well, thank you!"

"Well done for me." Bran grumbled out, not happy his girlfriend was so easily won over by a steak dinner

You, on the other hand, felt a little nervous accepting such a wonderful dinner invitation so you moved forward, dropping your bag next to the couch "Are you sure it's okay for you to cook us dinner?"

"It's late, the rain is predicted to keep up all night. I most certainly won't let my wife drive in the middle of the night even if it does stop." Casimir held out a hand as if to stop you from whatever you wanted to say "Let us at least do you this one favor. We don't get a lot of visitors after all and we're paid well enough by our jobs to afford feeding a bunch of strays."

When he said that, you saw his green eyes flicker for a second to Bran and there was some sort of irritation there but then it flickered back to you and all you could see was sweet politeness.

So, of course, you relented but not without compromise "At least let me help you prepare dinner."

Casimir seemed surprised by that but then he grinned "If you insist."

Then, his hand, which he had held up a second ago, raised even further to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers seemingly lingering for a bit longer "How about I get the ingredients ready and you change out of those sopping wet clothes?"

"It won't do either of us good if you get a cold now would it?" He added and you felt your ears get a little hot with embarrassment.

He was right, you were getting a bit ahead of yourself. You gave a quick nod. Scurrying back, you picked up your bag and made a move to go upstairs.

As you passed by Bran, he shouldered you a little and you heard him whisper to you, "Don't flirt with him, you fucking freak."

You felt your face fall but you quickly tried to compose yourself.

You honestly should've been used to it by now. Bran always decided to knock you down a peg at random moments like that but, still, it always took you off your guard.

Before you could get up the stairs, a gentle hand cupped your elbow and you turned, curious to see who stopped you.

"Hi, sorry, darl', just wanted to say that you'll have to stay in a spare bed on the third floor." Emm smiled gently at you, the picture of a kind hostess "I hope you don't mind."

You quickly shook your head, trying to calm the heat on your face and ears "Of course not! You're already helping us so much after all the trouble we've put you guys through!"

Then, you leaned close, pretending as if you were going to tell her some terrible secret "Don't tell Bran I said this but it was honestly stupid of him to try and go through here as a short cut to Lovelock."

When you pulled back, there was an expression on Emm's face that you couldn't exactly decipher. Before you couldn't really think about it though, it was gone and she was back to smiling at you.

"Yeah, there's been millions'a people like him for sure." Emm nodded, hand gliding up to your forearm as she guided you up the stairs, probably to where your room was "I always think the fine's too big for'em to try but there's always anoth'r dum'ass every week."

You giggled a little at her words but your brain felt a little dizzy at the feel of her hand around your arm, the way her palm almost wrapped entirely around it, how firm her grip was on you.

She was one tough looking lady.

"Your other two friends are a'ready in their rooms, d'now if you were lookin' for them." She informed you as the two of you passed that landing before embarking on the second set of stairs to the third floor.

"How come you guys have such a huge house?" You couldn't help but wonder, the curiosity getting the best of you.

"This used't be the house of some big shot at the Pharma back in the day, before the factory closed. Someone with a big family, I reckon." She shrugged as the two of you got to the final step on the stairs "The Pharma gave us reign to the entire village and we were movin' in with my brother and sister at the time so we jus' picked the biggest house. The oth'r choices were way smaller or just straight up apartments."

You nodded before feeling a little surprised to see that the third floor looked like a second living room. There was another set of couches, a coffee table, TV set and a door leading to what you presumed was the master bedroom.

"I hope a pullout is okay with you?" Emm smiled apologetically at you "It's really comfortable, I promise."

Without thinking much about it, you took her hand into yours and gave it a little shake "It's really fine, truly. Like I said before, you've been more than hospitable to us. This is so much more than what we should expect."

Her smile grew wide and she swooped in, giving you a tight hug "I'm so glad you think so! You'd fit right in here, y'know."

You laughed, hugging her back. You didn't know exactly what she meant by that but she was just so nice and kind that you accepted her words easily.

"Now, I think I heard you say you'd help Cas out with dinner." She pulled away, her hands rubbing up and down your shoulders for a second before she turned you towards the closed door you spotted earlier "Let me show you the bathroom."

"Oh, wait, isn't that--"

"It's fine!" Emm waved off your concerns as she practically dragged you along, opening the door and gesturing to the other door on the far side "That's the bathroom, by the way."

Then she let you go to rifle around her drawers for something.

You couldn't help but look around a little, curious about their master bedroom. It looked like any other bedroom, albeit a little too clean. Big bed in the middle, nightstand on either side, dresser for both him and her. There was another door you assumed was a closet.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing, I was just--" You were about to answer her except, when you turned to look at her, she was in the middle of taking off (or putting on?) her shirt and you panicked, your entire face feeling as hot as a kettle.

You turned around, squeaking out apology after apology as you scrambled into the bathroom, heart beating a mile a minute.

You locked the door and put down your bag, changing as fast as you could while trying to erase the image of Emm changing in your head. Still, you couldn't.

She was a married woman so you felt guilty but that didn't change the fact that she was very beautiful. Her body was built but curvy, pudgy but in a way where you could tell she had muscles underneath, with black and red tattoos swirling all over her tanned skin.

All you could remember was the lace of her black bra cupping her breasts, the way they were too big and seemed to overflow at the top of the cups.

Even her pants hung low, revealing the tops of her matching underwear and the hints of a tattoo on her wide hips.

You wanted to slap yourself.

She was a married woman! And she was being so gracious to you! Why were you lusting over her like some stupid high school kid? You idiot!

You tapped your head a few times as if you could tap the thought right out of your head before continuing with your changing.

When you exited with your bag, she was gone, probably weirded out by your staring. You sighed and just dropped your bag off at the couch right outside their bedroom.

Then, you walked downstairs. You wanted to check on Chloe and Dirk but, from the giggling right outside their room, you rather gouge your eyes out.

So, instead, you headed directly to the kitchen.

Casimir was already there, looking dressed and ready to cook. He had a different button up, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He also had an apron around his waist and his hair was tied in a messy bun high on his head.

There was something both domestic and handsome about the way he was dressed.

"Ah, my dear Igor, you've gotten dressed." He smirked as soon as he spotted you, his hand doing a couple of final flicks to roll up his last sleeve "There's an apron there, on the chair--"

You spotted it quickly and put it on, though you struggled a bit to tie it at the back.

Casimir chuckled a little, all deep and rich, before going behind you and helping you tie it.

"So, if I'm Igor, does that mean you're Dr. Frankenstein?" You tried to keep the silence at bay as he tied your apron and you rolled your sleeves up to your elbows.

He chuckled again "Of course. Though, hopefully, our cooking doesn't end up as convoluted as the Creature."

As he got ready at the kitchen counter, you couldn't help but turn a little meek "Uhm, by the way, did you see where Emm went?"

Casimir didn't spare you a glance as he set out a board and some vegetables out, probably for you to cut or dice "Oh, I think she went out to park her motorcycle? Probably so it doesn't rust in this downpour."

You frowned but took your place beside Casimir who seemed intent on peeling the potatoes as best as he could "When-- When she was uhm showing me the bathroom-- I uhm-- I accidentally-- you know-- I uhm--"

That's when Casimir finally stopped and peeked at you, his green eyes justas intimidating as when you first saw him out on that main road, by the factory.

"I a-accidentally saw her ch-changing." You squeaked, unable to keep your gaze on him

Instead of anger, Casimir suddenly clapped a hand on the back of your neck and pulled you close, that same deep and rumbling chuckle leaving his lips "Is that all? It's fine. If she had a problem with it, you wouldn't be with me, chopping up vegetables."

"O-Oh, okay!"

"She's taken quite a liking to you. I can tell." He continued to peel the potatoes, chucking the peeled ones in a bowl before gesturing to some broccolini and asparagus that needed trimming "Don't worry, if she had a problem with you, she will let you know."

"I'm sure she's told you but you'd be a good fit here, you know."

"Yeah, she said that." You started chopping the bottoms of the asparagus absentmindedly "What does that mean?"

"Just that we both really like you. Your friends take you for granted. You're a really great person." Casimir shrugged before bumping his hip against yours "Have you ever thought of settling here in Lovelock permanently?"

"Oh, I mean, there's not really anything waiting for me back at home other than a college degree." You laughed nervously before shrugging too "I don't know, I think it'd be nice but I'm-- I've never-- I don't know."

You could see Casimir look unsure for a second, like he was panicked and didn't know what to say, before he sighed "Sorry if I said something-- Or-- I'm not good with words or with feelings."

"But you have a place to stay with Emm and I if you ever need it."

You grinned at him, nodding "I really appreciate it! Thank you!"

When you looked up at him, there was a strange expression on his face. KInd of similar to that expression on Emm's face earlier. You chalked it to you just being weird. Instead, you focused on your asparagus, excited about the dinner coming.

[blaperile]

Homestuck: Beyond Canon (reactions pages 638 - 650)

Oh man, finally we know what the Plot Point looks like!

I'm honestly surprised that I actually called it that it would be a Hiveswap-like Cherub portal!! :O

I mean, if you put the images side by side it does look pretty different, but in essence it's the same (a portal, 2 adult Cherubs on either side).

The question is, will it WORK the same? In Hiveswap it swapped 2 persons from different universes, is that also what's going to happen here?

I mean, it's implied that Meat Dirk has got a similar portal that he didn't want Terezi to find, so I would think it's highly likely that both are connected in some way.

But does it mean Vriska will swap with someone from the Meat timeline? If so, who even? It would be poignant if she swaps with Terezi and they just briefly catch a glimpse of each other on their way past each other. But on the other hand, Terezi's still got Meat John's corpse on her and that seems to be building up to her prototyping him in the Deltritus SBURB session. It would be kind of strange if she doesn't go there after all.

In terms of persons switching with each other, I can't imagine anyone else other than Vriska and Terezi though.

I talked about it a bit with abundantChewtoys. If you look at the machine in the middle it kind of looks like a black hole. What if this can grow larger and absorb the entire meteor… or perhaps even the entire Earth? Kind of exactly like how Caliborn entered his SBURB session.

But instead it brings the entire Candy Earth to the Meat timeline.

I think narratively that's the option that makes the most sense. Both Meat and Candy storylines can be merged together again, while preserving all characters.

Nobody from the Candy timeline would be left behind… except perhaps for The Felt who may still be on the moon? I guess that's fine, Meat should have their own versions of the Felt as well hahahahaha.

Perhaps Jane will resort to activating her moon laser and just as it's about to strike, the black hole absorbs the Earth and transports it away before the laser can hit it?

I like the thought of this more and more, but we'll have to wait and see what actually happens.

One thing I find remarkable though is the coloring on the 2 Cherubs there. One's blue with a white orb in its mouth, the other is black and white with a black ball in its mouth.

What does that even mean?

The white ball and the black ball remind me a bit of the Cueball and the 8-ball. The blue Cherub reminds me of Void colors, the black and white Cherub reminds me of Serenity, Alternate Calliope's clothing, or Meat Calliope's dream spiral. Very curious.

Also, I heard the music preview James Roach shared: that definitely sounds like music for an [S] page about this portal, what with the Umbral Ultimatum and English motifs (I'm so happy that old leitmotifs are coming back!).

Finally, I just want to mention how I love how much the team has been using Sollux lately. He's absolutely hilarious (though I kind of hope he will get to have a bigger role again eventually and won't JUST be comic relief).

[labellefleur-sauvage]

The Highland Fox and the English Rose

Read on AO3. Masterlist (with fic summary)

NOTE: Depiction of violence and injury in this chapter.

XXX

Chapter 5: The stars are the map I unfurl

Elain winced, each step utter agony. Her backside ached, the muscles in her thighs she’d never used tense, and her back screamed at her with each forward movement.

“What’s the matter, Elain? Feeling a wee bit sore from yer first day ever riding a horse?”

“Of course I am!” Elain snapped irritably at Lucien, atop Ajax next to her with a supremely smug smile on his tanned face. Even that damned horse gave Elain an imperious sideways glance, like it too found Elain’s discomfort entertaining. “And it’s rude of you to gloat!”

Lucien snorted. “Yer the one who blackmailed me so I’d bring ye along. I believe I’m due to remind ye just how unprepared ye are to spend the next month roughing it on the road with me.”

Elain clenched her fists, perhaps the only part of her body that wasn’t sore and aching. They were only one day out from the castle, and already Elain worried, not for the first time, that she had severely overestimated her abilities and gotten herself mixed up with something she had no business being involved in. 

She wanted to adapt to living in Scotland and wanted to spend time with her admittedly insufferable yet handsome husband, but perhaps she should have eased herself into it, rather than dive headfirst like she had done,  Elain thought. This sort of reckless behavior—tagging along on a daring rescue mission across the wild Scottish Highlands—was something Feyre would do. At the very least, her backside would be thankful if Elain had demonstrated a bit more restraint. 

After a hard day of riding yesterday, Lucien had unceremoniously dumped a thin collection of blankets and padding he called a bedroll at her feet, tossed some crackers and jam at her, and told her to have a good dinner and wash up as best she could with their meager water before going to bed. He hadn’t spoken another word to her last night, and only spoke to her this morning to tell her to pack up so they could get back on the road. Elain had pitifully limped around camp and struggled to climb atop Ajax, lasting all of ten minutes before she begged Lucien to let her walk besides them.

And now, Lucien decided to grace Elain with his taunting words.

“If only someone had tried to warn ye that this would be a hard journey,” Lucien said wistfully. “If only a handsome, clever, resourceful—“

“Yes, yes, alright, I get it!”

“Do ye though?” Lucien was looking at her from the corner of his eye, frowning. “This is no ‘little adventure,’ as ye called it back at the castle. For my mother, this is life or death, depending on when we’re able to get to Sangravah and get her out.”

Elain’s face felt hot. Truthfully, she hadn’t been thinking of Lucien’s mother at all when she demanded to accompany him on this quest, too focused on her own bleeding emotions. For this unknown woman, she was depending on her son’s arrival to save her from a depressing and lonely existence, and Elain had not spared one ounce of sympathy for her mother in law. In a twisted way, she and Lucien’s mother were more alike than not: two women coerced by their male relatives into adopting futures they didn’t want. At least Elain got to experience the wind and sun on her face.

But even now, Elain couldn’t stand to admit to Lucien how selfish she’d been in demanding she join him, especially when he was being so damned arrogant. 

“Well, perhaps you’ll find that I’m more clever than you think,” Elain said loftily. “Apparently Eris thinks I’m smart, based on what he told you.”

“Eris is a conniving bastard who tells people what they want to hear so they’ll agree to his schemes, then stabs them in the back with his dirk when he’s done with them,” Lucien said darkly, mouth tight. “Don’t assume he meant to flatter ye.”

“And that’s worse than neglecting your wife for weeks on end then attempting to leave her for months on end while you embark on a dangerous journey with absolutely no warning?”

Lucien glared at her. “Do not compare me to Eris.”

Elain shrugged nonchalantly, burying her hands in the pockets of her dress as she walked. “You’re both brutal red headed Scotsmen with ulterior motives and foul mouths. Don’t assume you’re the hero here.”

Lucien swore to himself. “Ye think yer so witty, don't ye?”

She glared at Lucien. “Oh, and you think you’re any better? You thought you were so clever with your plans until I figured out what you were up to.”

“Do ye know what people call me?” Lucien replied, turning to look at Elain. “The Highland Fox, on account of my reputation for outsmarting everyone around me and always walking away unscathed. I think ye had a bit of help a few nights ago—Vassa told ye to wait in the garden, didn’t she?” Elain couldn’t help the flash of guilt that crossed her face before she looked away. “Aye, I thought so,” Lucien said grimly. “Vassa and I will have to have a chat the next time I see her.”

“She just wanted us to spend some time together—“

“But this is no’ the place to do it!” Lucien grimaced and pushed his hair away from his face. “She knew how dangerous this mission could be, and she still moved ye into a position to put ye directly in my path, where now I have to deal with keeping ye safe while trying to rescue my mother!”

“I can take care of myself!”

“Ye can’t even handle riding a horse for one day! Don’t lie and say ye can somehow take care of yourself when it’s clear you’ve never had to worry about your wellbeing or anyone else for that matter!”

Anger boiled inside her, like a scalding kettle screaming to be released. Lucien read her like an open book, leisurely flipping through her pages and gleening her truths like scribbles in the margins. Elain had never had to worry about her future or anyone else for that matter—as a woman, there were so few independent activities she could do, the majority of which still kept her confined to the house. That was a normal part of life for any moderately wealthy Englishwoman—so why did Lucien ripping her open and tearing away her pages from her spine affect her so much?

Because an Englishman would never point out these awful truths to me, Elain thought bitterly. Lucien was an absent husband and an arsehole on top of that—Elain could never imagine Greyson saying the things Lucien was saying to her now. Lucien was just a wild and savage Scotsman, and she never felt more at odds with him. 

But if Lucien wanted a fight, Elain could prove she could fight back. 

“I’m surprised that’s clear to you—I’m shocked you’re able to see anything with your arrogance and one eye continuously blinding you!”

As soon as Elain closed her mouth, she regretted what she said. There was rude, and then there was downright nasty; Elain had firmly crossed into the latter with her little remark. 

Instead, Lucien chuckled lowly. “And the supposedly sweet English Rose shows her thorns.”

“Says the man who admits to being called ‘The Highland Fox.’” Elain scoffed. “What a silly nickname, honestly. I haven’t seen anything particularly clever from you since I’ve met you.”

Lucien’s cheeks turned a bit pink, and Elain smirked, triumphant. “Did your sisters prep ye with insults before ye arrived in Scotland, or did ye manage to think of that yourself?”

“I thought of this one all on my own, and I have plenty more ready for the next time you act like an utter idiot!”

“And here I thought I’d be getting a quiet, meek English wife, and instead I marry a selfish, foul-mouthed blackmailer!” Lucien snapped. Below him, Ajax let out a snicker, like it was laughing at Elain.

Elain glared at the meddlesome horse before she turned her attention back to Lucien. “Well that’s your issue. You had assumptions about me before you ever met me. I, on the other hand, had absolutely no expectations for the savage Scotsman I knew I was marrying, and yet I’m still disappointed in you!”

“Likewise, dear.” Lucien glared at her. “Yer father didno’ warn me what an absolute terror ye are! Ye keep your screeching up and you’ll develop a reputation as a harpy with the locals!”

Elain gasped. “Well, you’re a… a… jerk!”

“And yer a brat!”

Elain huffed a breath. She was stomping now, and her feet and ankles soon began aching, along with the rest of her poor body.

They continued on down the empty, dusty road in silence for several minutes. The only thing Elain could hear was the furious beating of her pulse in her ears. Finally Lucien sighed deeply. “All that trampling yer doing must be tiring ye out. Would ye like to join me on Ajax?”

“That’s alright,” Elain replied cooly. “I don’t believe there’s enough room up there for me, between you and your massive ego. I’ll walk by the donkey for company.”

Lucien sighed loudly but didn’t argue as Elain drifted back a few paces to walk next to the sturdy donkey carrying most of their supplies. She distractedly pat its head as she walked, then groaned as she felt the familiar dampness of a summer rain fall on her head. Of course it would rain now. Elain drew the hood of her traveling cloak over her head and glowered at her husband ahead of her. 

Elain wasn’t sure why she thought everything would suddenly be fine between her and Lucien now that it was just the two of them. They were frustrated and near hostile with each other when they were at Castle Macpherson; take away the few comforts and stability they each had, and Elain realized, once again, she hadn’t completely thought out her sudden demand to join Lucien.

Elain huffed. “At least you’re a better traveling companion than him ,” she muttered to the donkey next to her. “You don’t say such rude things and yell at me.” 

One of the donkey’s ears twitched but otherwise it paid her no attention.

“Typical,” Elain muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Do ye just like the sound of yer own voice, or are ye losing yer mind that ye feel the need to talk to an ass?” Lucien called from Ajax, not turning to look at her.

Elain pursed her lips. “Well, I got tired of talking to you, so I thought I might as well see how the other ass compares!” she shrieked over the rain.

Yes, perhaps Elain has been a bit naive when it came to her husband.

By the time they stopped for the evening, what felt like hours later, Elain was about ready to cry with pain from her aching legs and feet. She couldn’t recall ever walking more than the distance it took to get from her childhood home in the English countryside to the nearby village; everything longer than that fifteen minute walk required the carriage.

Elain refused to speak to or even look at Lucien, but he still seemed to read her current mood. “Come sit down on your bedroll and I’ll take care of dinner,” he said gruffly.

She wasn’t going to complain. Elain watched listlessly as Lucien set up their meager camp then prepared a downright luxurious meal of salted pork, brown bread and butter, then finished with some berries he found near the stream where he had filled up their water pouches. 

Lucien stood over her after dinner, a frown on his plush lips. “Ye look fookin’ miserable.”

Elain didn’t respond, still annoyed with him and slightly embarrassed over her childish outburst. 

He gave a long suffering sigh. “Take yer boots off and lay down.”

She awkwardly peeled her boots off and nearly sobbed at the instant relief she felt, which was nearly dashed away when Lucien plunked down next to her and pulled one of her legs into his lap.

“What are you-!”

“I was going to work yer muscles over since yer so sore.”

Elain sneered. “Out of the goodness of your heart, or because you’re so desperate to touch me?”

A muscle clenched in Lucien’s jaw. “No, because ye throwing your little tantrum and walking today cost us valuable time. If ye can stand to ride on Ajax, then it’s better for the both of us.”

Chastised, Elain silently let Lucien massage the muscles in her aching legs. It felt heavenly: he applied just enough force for her muscles to relax, but not hard enough that it was painful. He carried on over her calves and ventured up to her legs. Lucien reached the back of her thigh and Elain couldn’t stop the small gasp of relief she let out as he dug his fingers into her flesh and massaged her muscles. Being this close to certain other parts of her made Elain remember that night in the garden when they almost kissed. She was so tempted to open her legs, drag those strong hands exactly where she wanted them…

If Lucien was affected like Elain, he hid it much better than her. He moved away from her thighs, and Elain gave a quiet disappointed sigh. His hands skimmed her ankles before moving to her feet. Elain giggled and jerked her leg when he brushed the sensitive bottom of her foot.

The corner of Lucien’s mouth ticked up. “Wee bit ticklish, are ye?”

“I’ll trust you not to use my greatest weakness to your advantage, I hope.”

“No promises,” he replied, still grinning slightly and brushing another finger over her foot. 

Elain barked a laugh and pulled away. “If you’re just going to torment me—“

“Oh, I plan on doing far more to ye than just torment ye,” Lucien said, and there it was: the all-consuming desire that made Elain lose all sense around her husband came back to life. They were so close; all Elain had to do was reach out for him, take his hand—

Lucien withdrew suddenly, the small grin on his face gone. “Er, I think it’s time we went to sleep. We’ll have a long journey tomorrow.”

A sudden snowstorm couldn't make Elain feel as cold as she did then. Nodding numbly, Elain settled on her bedroll while Lucien stood up and made his way towards his own makeshift bed on the other side of camp.

“Goodnight,” Elain called softly. Lucien didn’t respond, and Elain tried not to let her embarrassment and disappointment ruin her sleep.

The next day Elain accepted Lucien’s invitation to ride with him atop Ajax. He didn’t say anything about their immature argument the day before, but Elain noticed his woolen sleeping blanket over the saddle where she would sit. It was a peace offering, the only one Lucien could give that Elain would accept. She settled in, feeling Lucien’s comforting warmth seep into her back.

XXX

Lucien had to hand it to Elain: she was handling this entire situation far better than he had thought she would.

True, her first day or two hadn’t been smooth for either of them, for different reasons. He still winced whenever he recalled her stubbornly limping beside Ajax when she could physically no longer bear to ride him. Once he had massaged her legs—Lucien, the brute that he was, wanted to do so much more, but knew she’d reject him—Elain recovered quickly and since then, she had been riding atop the horse, her small and soft body snug between his thighs.

“Are we almost done for the day?”

Speak of the devil. “Nope,” Lucien replied cheerfully, keeping his grip on the reins in front of them both relaxed. “We’re still a few miles from Drumnadrochit, on the shores of Loch Ness. There’s a wee forest outside of town we can camp in, it’ll be grand.”

She mumbled something under her breath that sounded incredibly vulgar and Lucien chuckled. Elain was doing far better than Lucien had anticipated, but that didn’t mean he could let her off the hook so easily. 

“Why can’t we stay in an inn? Surely we don’t have to resort to sleeping outside every night?”

“Because I didna’ bring much coin—it’s risky having a lot of coin on ye with only two people to defend it. What I did bring is for food so until ye find an ancient lost treasure, we'll be sleeping outside.”

Elain grumbled again but kept quiet. Nothing had changed in their marriage now that they were together constantly on the road: they still barely spoke or looked at each other, and slept as far away from each other as they could stand. Still, it was an improvement from their screaming match a few days ago.

That was embarrassing—he had said quite a few things he didn’t mean and didn’t have a clue how to resolve. Lucien was convinced that if he had tried to apologize, Elain would take his words for weakness or a lie, and they’d get into another argument. 

No, better to keep silent and keep the peace, than risk talking to his wife and getting to know her. 

Truly, the only difference between their time at the castle and now was that Lucien spent every day with Elain’s plush backside against his front, where only his inconvenient kilt separated his aching length from her body. 

Perhaps Lucien wasn’t handling this situation as well as he thought.

“When we camp tonight, I’ll bring out the oat cake I nabbed from the kitchen, and we can have tattie scones in the morning.”

“Joy,” Elain deadpanned. “Oats for dinner and potato bread in the morning.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow. “Yer the one who insisted on accompanying me and wouldn’t let me leave without ye. Ye don’t get to complain about anything, aye? That includes the food, sleeping arrangements, and travel companion.”

Elain turned and scrunched her face up at Lucien before turning back around in a huff. “Well, the donkey has been very a gracious and patient companion, and dutifully listens to everything I say,” she said in a mockingly innocent tone.

“The donkey shits where it walks and has nary a thought betwixt its ears, so I’m not sure I trust yer judgment when it comes to those around ye.”

“Hm, seems you and your animals have far more in common than you realized.”

Ajax snickered underneath them, and Lucien flexed his thighs against the horse and Elain’s soft legs, keeping his mouth shut. It was going to be a long few months.

They set up camp later that night in silence and ate their dinner—crusty bread, cheese and the last of their cured meat. Lucien frowned—they were eating their food faster than he had rationed, and would have to stop in Drumnadrochit to replenish their rations.

The last beams of sunlight shone through the trees above him and Lucien sighed, settling against his bedroll. Maybe he’d try to find the stream he knew from maps was somewhere nearby for an evening swim. Maybe, if he were nice and offered to massage her legs again, he could convince Elain to come with. She’d gone so pliant and agreeable the last time he did it, Lucien liked his chances.

Lucien was just about to open his mouth when Elain stood and began making her way through the trees, her pack over her shoulder.

“Where do ye think you’re going?”

“I’m not leaving,” she said. “I just need to take care of some womanly business.”

“Ah,” Luien said delicately, his face heating slightly. “With yer entire pack? Do ye need me to go with ye?”

“I don’t need you everywhere with me.”

Lucien rose a single eyebrow. “I thought the whole reason ye forced yourself along on this trip was because ye felt I wasno’ giving ye enough attention.”

Elain flushed even more. “Yes, well, sometimes women say one thing but mean another, and this is one of those instances.”

“What does that even mean?!”

“It means give me ten minutes to be myself for the first time in days! I’ll be back before it gets dark.”

Lucien groaned, covering his eyes with an arm. Elain was so contradictory: she complained that he ignored her and didn’t spend any time with her—true—then complained when they were forced to spend time with each due to her own actions. 

Lucien sighed and ran his thumb over the ring on his left hand. He’d give her a few more moments then go out and find her. He closed his eye—

And awoke to near darkness and a rustling beside him. His dirk was in his hand before he was fully awake.

“It’s just me,” Elain whispered somewhere to his side. “Do you always wake up and immediately grab a weapon?”

“I’m Scottish, I was born with a knife in hand,” Lucien mumbled, sitting up and looking around. He could just make out Elain’s figure on her lumpy sleeping mat a few feet from him, a wool blanket over her. She hadn’t brought any warm sleeping clothes, and Lucien had been secretly delighted to give her one of his old tunics to sleep in.

“Did ye go far?”

“I found a stream nearby, though I must have taken a different path back because I got a bit lost.”

“‘A bit lost’?” Lucien exclaimed, his heart hammering in his chest. “Who kens what could have happened to ye if ye didn’t find yer way back! There are wild animals about, or ye could have fallen and gotten hurt!”

He saw the outline of Elain’s body stiffen. “Well, I’m fine and I came back, alright?”

Lucien dragged his hand over his face. God, his wife was stubborn—a trait that wasn’t unique to just her, he realized. How could Lucien make Elain understand that he needed her to be safe, and for the time, that meant staying close to him? He wanted, needed , Elain to always be safe, not just because she was his wife, but because the thought of anything bad happening to her made him sick to his stomach and had caused him to sleep poorly every night they’d been on the road.

Lucien took a deep breath. “I ken ye came back, but it’s dangerous out there. What if ye fell and twisted yer ankle? It gets cold in the evening, and when the wind is roaring, ye can’t hear anything betwixt the trees. Ye could be crying out for help, cold and in pain, and I wouldna’ be able to hear ye.”

Elain paused. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

That was promising—Elain wasn’t fighting back, so Lucien pressed on. “We havana’ exactly had the best start, but it’s just us two out here. We need to be able to trust each other, and that means talking with each other. Something we both need to work on,” Lucien admitted.

Elain was silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, “for making you worry. I didn’t think how my actions would affect you.”

“Not for the first time,” Lucien muttered, and he was surprised to hear Elain let out a rather self-deprecating chuckle. 

“You don’t need to say any more about that. Though, I’ll admit, I’d be helpless if we got truly separated.”

The thought made Lucien’s stomach clench. “I brought some maps of the Highlands. I’ll get them out tomorrow for ye to look over while we’re riding.”

“That would be nice.” Lucien thought he could hear something like a smile in her voice. She was silent, and he thought she might have gone to sleep. “And I’m sorry for being difficult earlier. I perhaps… didn’t think this entire situation through and…”

Lucien didn’t need Elain to say anymore. “That's alright. Maybe we wouldna’ be here if I was honest with ye from the start.”

Elain snorted. “Oh, we most certainly would have still ended up here—I’d have used any means necessary to go with you, if it meant I got to see more of the world.”

He hummed. The more Lucien learned about Elain, the more he realized how utterly wrong his initial opinions of her had been. Far from the frigid Englishwoman he’d assumed he had married, Elain was warm and teaming with life and desires so near to his own. She was clever and stubborn and wanted more from life than what she was currently living, traits he recognized in himself. 

“Is it too late for that oat cake you mentioned earlier?” Elain asked quietly.

“Aye, I can’t see anything to know where it's in my bag.”

Elain sighed with disappointment, and Lucien’s chest ached at the sound. “That’s alright, maybe in the morning.”

“I was planning on stopping by Drumnadrochit tomorrow morn for some extra provisions. How about we stop by the inn for a hot meal, see if we can find ye some proper night clothes?”

Stupid. Why was he offering to waste more precious time and resources they didn’t have to wile away a morning in a simple village that most likely didn’t even have more than a basic goods store?

Lucien knew why. He’d only heard a whiff of disappointment in Elain’s voice and he had folded like a wet kilt, desperate to see and hear her happy instead. 

He got his wish instantly. “Really?” she asked. “That would be wonderful!”

“This isno’ one of those womanly times where you say one thing and mean another, is it?” Lucien teased. 

Elain chuckled. “Most definitely not. A proper Scottish village, how exciting.”

“Don’t get yer hopes up,” Lucien warned. “There will probably be more pigs than people.”

“That’s alright,” Elain replied happily. “Just seeing something new would be wonderful. Goodnight Lucien.”

“Goodnight Elain,” he said softly, listening to her soft breathing eventually evening out. 

Elain was a mystery, and frustrating, and temperamental, and obviously keeping secrets about something. Just like he had been earlier, Lucien realized. This must be how Elain felt when she was holed up in the castle after the wedding, he thought wryly.

Vassa was right—he really had been an ass to Elain. Maybe his friend had a better idea of his wife’s true character than he did. 

Lucien hoped Elain wouldn’t hold his past actions against him for long.

She certainly didn’t seem to mind him the next morning, rushing to dress and pack up her gear before Lucien had brushed the sleep from his eye.

“I dinnae realize how motivated ye’d be for a hot meal,” Lucien remarked dryly as they made their way towards Drumnadrochit. “I’ll have to tempt ye more often with good food if yer this springy in the mornings.”

“Well, it’s not just the food,” Elain answered, turning her head and arching an eyebrow. “I’m excited to see this town, Dromna–Drumma–”

“Drumnadrochit,” Lucien said slowly and clearly, enunciating each syllable so Elain could understand him. “Are ye that excited to see this little fishing village?” Lucien asked skeptically. “It’s nothing like Edinburgh, or even Inverness.”

“I’ve always wanted to travel,” Elain said, bouncing in the saddle like she could will Ajax to trot along even faster. “And you said the village is next to Loch Ness. We didn’t have many reading materials about Scotland back in England and the ones I did read, er…”

“Only mentioned what bloodthirsty savages us Scots are?”

“Well, perhaps,” Elain admitted, the morning sun warming her flushed cheeks. “But none of them mentioned how breathtaking the scenery is. The sights I’ve seen in the past few days alone...”

“Aye, Scotland is verra beautiful, especially the farther north we go. Great peaks and forests, waterfalls, fields of heather as far as the eye can see—“

“And we’ll get to see it all?”

“Aye, we’ll get to see it all.”

Elain turned around in the saddle and smiled at him. “Let’s get a move on, then.”

“It seems we’re finally in agreement on something,” Lucien chuckled. “Before we get into town, it may be better if ye speak quietly, or no’ at all. I’m no’ sure how the folks up here would take to a bonnie English lass like ye.”

“You mean they wouldn’t instantly be charmed by my lovely accent and quick wit and wouldn’t run me out of town?” Elain asked sarcastically.

“Let’s no’ find out.”

Lucien had never been to Drumnadrochit, having gone around the other side of the loch when traveling to Inverness, but he’d been to enough small Highland villages to know what to expect. On the outskirts of town were several stone and sod houses huddled together, their rough roofs covered with tree branches and a single flume of smoke wafting upwards. Women sat outside their huts spinning wool or churning butter while gossiping with one another, and small children ran around barefoot. Lucien felt dozens of pairs of eyes sweeping over scarred his face before settling on the dirks, sword and crossbow strapped to his body, their wary judgment leaching into his already tense body. 

Elain didn’t notice anything amiss. She looked around wildly as they passed more houses until they turned onto the town’s main street, its beaten dirt road soggy from a previous rain. 

Ajax’s hooves splattered mud as they made their way further into town. From here, Lucien saw the town had a blacksmith and provisioners shop, and even a large church, its bell announcing the morning hour to the townspeople. Looking down the street gave Elain and Lucien a view of the great stone fortress of Castle Urquhart, home to Clan Grant, and beyond that—

“Oh,” Elain gasped softly, her eyes wide as she gazed at Loch Ness. Its water was murky, but it still managed to faintly glimmer in the morning light, offset by the lush green hills surrounding it. 

“You’re verra lucky,” Lucien remarked casually as they made their way to the inn. “This particular loch has never looked so nice when I’ve seen it.”

“It’s beautiful,” Elain said, craning her neck for another view. “I could stare at it all day.”

“There’s plenty of other peaty lakes to stare at this far north,” Lucien snorted. “Besides, we’ve already attracted enough attention from the villagers, we don’t need ye gawking at the loch like a silly goose to let everyone know you’re no’ from around here.”

The inn, which seemed to also serve as the town’s drinking establishment, was sparsely populated. A few people sat around low tables conversing and drinking, while one man was slumped in the corner, a brown flat cap pulled over his face.

“I’ll get us breakfast. Doona talk to anyone,” Lucien reminded Elain. She rolled her eyes but listened, opting to look around at her surroundings.

“Is tha’ one alreeght?” the old bar maid asked Lucien as he stood against the bar after ordering some breakfast, gesturing towards Elain who was looking around the drab inn in wonder. The wrinkles around the bar maid’s eyes crinkled as she narrowed her eyes at her. “She seems a wee bit shocked at sumthing.”

“Er, she doesnae’ get out much,” Lucien winced, taking two bowls of warm oats drizzled with local honey and berries from her and handing over several coins.

The lady hummed. “Take these, on the hoose,” she said, sliding two small glasses of whisky towards him. “She looks like she needs it.”

“Taing,” Lucien replied, balancing everything back to the table.

Elain raised a questioning glance at the bowls and glasses. 

“Oats,” Lucien said, handing her a bowl, “and a dram of local whisky, courtesy of the woman at the bar.” He didn’t feel like mentioning the whisky only came because the barmaid felt a shock of alcohol would do Elain good.

“How nice,” Elain whispered, staring at the small glass in her hand. “I’ve never had whisky.”

“Well, this stuff may not be of the highest quality,” Lucien admitted quietly so no one would overhear. “I suggest drinking it in one go, to get it over with.”

Elain nodded sagely. “Do you cheers? I’ve seen men do that, when they clink their glasses together.”

“Slainte mhath,” Lucien said, gently knocking his glass against hers. “Slainte mhath.”

“Slange va,” Elain said clumsily, then tossed the entire contents of the glass into her mouth.

Lucien drank and shuddered. Unsurprisingly, the whisky had a strong peat taste, owing to the area’s soil. It also hadn’t been aged long, or well, and all he could taste was pure, burning alcohol as it slipped down his throat.

Not the worst bit of whisky he’d ever had.

Lucien had to bite his lip and cover his mouth when he glanced at Elain’s face. Her normally soft, sweet face was contorted in a grimace, one eye twitching and the other watering as she swallowed the liquid. She coughed loudly before she covered her mouth to contain the rest of her fit.

“I think that was my reaction the first time I tried whisky,” Lucien chuckled, dipping a spoon into his oats. 

“Good lord,” Elain whispered brokenly, her voice hoarse. “What the hell is in that?”

“Grain, water, and by the taste, peat straight from the loch and hellfire from Satan’s own arsehole.”

“Never again,” Elain gasped softly, reaching a trembling hand out to grip her spoon. “I’ll stick to wine and maybe ale, but I’m never drinking whisky again.”

“Never say never,” Lucien grinned. “There are much better ones around. I have several good quality whiskys back home we can sample when we get back.”

“I don’t know if there’s anything you can say or do that would convince me to try any more of that drink in my lifetime.”

“Oh, I can be verra persuasive when I want to be,” Lucien shot back, delighted when he noticed Elain blush.

She ate a mouthful of the oats and groaned softly, then began devouring the rest of the food. Lucien raised an eyebrow. “Are they really that much better than the oats I’ve been making every morning?”

“Yours aren’t as warm and tasty as this,” Elain replied, daintily licking her spoon. Lucien’s cock, which had been in varying states of stiffness the entire morning, roared back to life at seeing her small tongue caress the spoon.

I’ll give you something warm and tasty , the lecherous part of his brain supplied. Lucien gulped. “Maybe we can see if they have honey for sale.”

Drumnadrochit did in fact have honey for sale, as well as all kinds of food for their journey. Stopping by the crowded provisioner store, Lucien stocked up on oats for porridge, hardy and long lasting barley cakes, dried meat, hard cheese, bread, dried beans, and even a few potatoes and stalks of kale for a stew, plus a long woolen dress for Elain. 

“Quite the spree yer gon’ on,” the shopkeeper remarked, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Offta somewhere then?”

“None of yer concern,” Lucien snapped, grabbing his purchases. “Nosy geezer,” he mumbled under his breath.

The donkey didn’t appreciate the extra weight, braying loudly as Lucien packed their new foodstuffs to its back. “Here are the maps I mentioned last night,” Lucien said, handing Elain a few creased paper maps before taking his place behind her on Ajax and leading them out of town at a steady pace. He looked up at the increasingly darkening sky and leaned over her. “We’re right here.”

“I see,” Elain said, studying the map intently. She was silent for a time looking at the maps, and soon Drumnadrochit was out of sight. “And we’re going all the way up here, to Sangravah?” she asked, pointing to the small island off the far northern coast.

“Aye. It’ll be a wee bit cold by the time we get up there so I expect ye’ll be wearing that new dress quite a bit.”

“Hm. Where are your trade routes exactly? I see very few roads on any of these maps, especially the farther north you travel.”

“They mainly follow existing wagon and cattle trails, or run next to rivers and other bodies of water. I have some contacts in Inverness who are printing me some updated maps. I’ve set up a few route markers for the roads near the Macpherson clan. After we rescue my mother—“

An arrow whizzed by Lucien’s arm, grazing his sleeve and knicking his bicep. In the time it took for Elain to cry out, Lucien had brought Ajax to halt, taken out his sword and swung off the horse.

“Stay on Ajax!” Lucien called, facing three men who were rapidly approaching them on the road. “If I tell ye to run, ye run, understand?”

Elain’s pale face was stricken, her body frozen on the horse. “Elain!”

“I, I can’t leave you,” she said. “I won’t–“

“Do ye remember what I told ye when I said ye could come with me? Yer to listen to everything I tell ye to do. If that includes running to save yerself and leaving me, ye do that, aye?”

Elain’s eyes were wide and for a split second Lucien thought she was going to argue with him. Instead, she jerked her head up and down.

“Good. Take this,” he said, handing her one of his small dirks, “and aim for the neck or bollocks if you need to.”

Her hand was trembling so hard Lucien thought she might drop the blade but she gripped it tight and held it close to her chest.

“Don’t go stabbing yourself now,” he smirked at her. “You’re far too pretty to have a knife wound on ye. Go!” he shouted, slapping Ajax’s hindquarters so the horse trotted away from Lucien, the donkey trotting after them.

Lucien turned towards the three men who slowed to a stop fifteen feet away, tying his hair back. “Who the fuck are ye and what do ye want?”

“Just a few men who’ve fallen on hard times,” one of the men with a brown cap on his head said. “We couldno’ help but notice that sweet bonnie lass o’ yers when ye stopped for a bit of food this morn’, and mah associate here noticed how much coin ye dropped at the shop later. Perhaps ye could spare a bit of coin, for charity.”

“Charity, my ass, shooting arrows with that shite aim at me.”

Brown cap cocked his head. “I hit exactly where I meant to. Seems ye have plenty of food for ye and that lass of yers. I’ve killed men for less.”

Lucien cursed himself. He recognized the muddy brown cap the man wore, the same hat that was covering his face in the inn. And the provisioner store was so crowded, and he had purchased so much at one time. Lucien should have been more on guard, more sensible. But Elain had been so happy and cheerful that Lucien forgot all about common sense and what he should have done. 

“Lucky for me I’ve also killed men for less.” The three men slowly circled Lucien and withdrew their blades. He made a quick mental count of his own weapons–the crossbow strapped to his back would be of no help here, his useless pistol was buried at the bottom of his pack on Ajax, and he’d just given Elain his best dirk.

Unsheathing his sword from his back, Lucien widened his stance and rotated to face each of the three men. “Well, come on then, ye piss soaked rags. I haveno’ got all day.”

Just like he anticipated, the man from his left attacked first, raising a dirk in a fat fist towards Lucien’s chest. It hadn’t been long since he lost his left eye, but Lucien had learned very quickly that opponents viewed his missing eye as a weakness and targeted his left side more heavily than anywhere else. 

Spinning to dodge the man, Lucien ducked underneath the man’s flailing arm and ran his sword through his enemy’s stomach. There was a bit of resistance as his sword pushed through the man’s substantial belly before he withdrew and the man crumpled before him. 

Lucien roared as an explosion of pain, the likes of which he hadn’t felt since that fateful day back at the Clan Vanserra keep, radiated from his left shoulder as another man dug his dirk into Lucien’s back and grabbed him around his neck from behind, dragging him to the ground. The man tightened his arms around his neck as Lucien flailed his body. Lucien’s hands scrabbled against his choker’s arms, trying to dislodge him from his windpipe.

“I’ll make sure to treat that sweet English lass of yers to a real fine time,” his opponent whispered in his ear. “I’m sure plenty o’ people back in the village will be keen to show what we do to English pigs in Scotland.”

The black that had been invading the edges of Lucien’s eye turned red. Abandoning his opponent’s arms, Lucien cast about on the ground for the dirk that had stabbed him. Wrapping his hand around the short pommel, Lucien didn’t think or look as he thrust the dagger above him.

The arms around his neck slackened instantly and a gush of warm blood fell on Lucien’s head. Gagging, he rolled away and rose to his feet on unsteady legs.

“That’s a wee bit better now, aye?” Lucien croaked, wiping his face as best he could and gathering his sword to face the last man. “One against one, a bit more even.”

“Aye,” the man in the brown cap replied, a vicious smirk on his lips. “Hopefully those two fools tired ye out enough that this’ll be easy for me.”

It was misting around them, the dark clouds above finally releasing its rain. Lucien and his opponent circled each other for a few heartbeats before the man lunged towards Lucien with a one-handed ax held above his head. Throwing his sword up, Lucien grit his teeth as the reverberations from the clashing steel traveled straight to his screaming shoulder. Lucien sighed with relief when the man withdrew.

“That’s far too nice of an ax for a shit stain like you,” Lucien snarled, taking a large sweeping arc with his sword that the man easily parried. “Where’d ye get it from?”

“From the last man who tried to kill me,” his opponent said, slicing the ax towards Lucien. “Maybe I’ll use it to give ye a matching scar on the other side of yer face, ye ugly freak.”

Lucien barely dodged the next attack and nearly slipped in the mud. “The lasses actually find the scars verra charming.”

The man snarled as Lucien’s sword finally connected with his body, shallowly slicing his arm. “What about that bonnie lass yer with? I’m sure she’d prefer a man that isno’ cut up like you. Are ye missing anything else besides an eye? My cock is in one piece. Sure she’d like it more than whatever is dangling between yer legs.”

For the second time, Lucien saw red. “My wife is perfectly fine with my missing eye and fat cock,” he snarled, ignoring the rational part of his brain that said Elain had never seen that part of him. Without thinking, he sent a wide, slicing sweep attack towards the man. Like he was watching in slow motion, Lucien watched as the rain-slicked handle of his sword slipped from his hand and sent the sword flying towards his opponent.

The sword connected fully with the man’s neck, and his head rolled away before his body fell to the ground. 

Lucien fell to his knees, gasping with pain and exertion. Now that the fight was over, the mind numbing pain of his shoulder wound was all he could feel. It was raining hard now, and Lucien staggered to his feet and collected his sword. 

His opponent’s blood–the one whose neck he had slashed–ran down his face and into his eyes and mouth. Spitting, Lucien began hobbling down the road where he thought he sent Elain and Ajax, using his sword as a makeshift crutch. “Elain!”

No response. Lucien kept staggering forward, fighting the pain and the voice inside his head that told him to just lay down. “Elain!”

Had she left him? Lucien thought they were finally connecting with each other and moving past their rough few weeks of matrimony. Had that all been a foolish dream on his part?

The rain was heavy now, and Lucien could barely see more than a few feet in front of him. “Elain,” he called out weakly and fell to his knees. This was how he was going to die. As long as Elain was safe, it was worth it.

“Lucien!”

He grunted as someone brushed his shoulder wound and collapsed into the mud. Someone was supporting him, and urging him onwards, but Lucien wasn’t aware of anything else, not even the dry ground that greeted him when he collapsed.

[browniefox]

Alright, more Crisis Core, let's go! This one ended up being REALLY long (we got through two chapters), so I'm putting a read more some ways down so it doesn't kill people's dashes.

The boy said the line!

Yay, Cloud is finally here! He still clearly has the basic infantry model other than the head, but it does mean he stands in the casual almost sassy way they all do haha. In general, it's so weird but cute to see him smiling and laughing. Aw, he's not traumatized yet!

I knew what was coming, but my friend I'm playing with didn't, so it was fun to see her reaction (tho i totally still got so excited anyway haha).

This is just here bc I love them so <3 And then Tseng is also here being a third wheel. The sneaking portion that is right after this I sucked ass at. I couldn't make it five feet without being seen and tossed out, and I just had to wait until the game took pity on me and took the guards away.

Genesis, please I'm begging you just kill Hollander. I do love seeing his hair, once so bright red, getting grayer and darker, how his nice leather jacket is getting all broken, giving a sense that he's not taking care of himself and his things as much as he should be.

My sister has tried to stay more-or-less blind to what happens in Crisis Core (she knows some stuff, I know a little more) but all fics tend to use the same Loveless lines (which makes sense, of course) but I did end up reciting this quote with him bc it's one of my favorites, much to the shock of my sister.

I can't believe Zack really thinks Genesis died tho. Like, the guy has a wing, he can fly, falling is not gonna kill him. I'm still not totally clear what Genesis is trying to achieve, but I've been watching some of ButterBuns CCR videos and she's kind of given me a better sense of Genesis. He's just flailing around, trying to get something, anything, to work. He's a dying man who is desperate and doesn't even know himself exactly what he wants.

HELL YEAH! If the creators weren't cowards they would have let your models touch. Our new thing while playing is being proud of Zack for having two boyfriends and one girlfriend. The boy can get it.

As per usual, my biggest problem with this game is the writing - especially with Angeal, tbh. I guess Angeal is just like Genesis in that he's desperately trying to figure out who he is, monster or man. But every time he talks about being a monster I kind of roll my eyes. He's like an emo teenager. Last chapter I felt like it was getting a better grip and liking for him, but I'm kind of back to just being like 'what's your deal man'.

That being said, I kind of dig his weird monster form! It's a mishmash but super cool, and I love how his arms are folded in front of him. My friend and sister I don't think liked it as much and mostly made fun of it which, fair.

Mostly unrelated, but i really got myself into a big of predicament in that I'm super overpowered, which means I get through battles so quick, which also means I don't get to show off all the limit breaks and summons and such when we're playing ;-; but then I turn it to hard mode and die instantly.

I'm always a sucker for sad sunsets. I might not get Angeal or his deal, but I do at least buy that Zack cares about Angeal. It's kind of like Angeal was too set in his ways of monster vs heroes, and that a monster needs to be killed by a hero. That Zack is the only hero left to kill a monster like him, or that by doing so Zack proves he's a hero. But really all it's done is given Zack trauma and made him more uncertain than ever who he is and what he stands for.

(It kind of reminds me of near the end of Homestuck, when Dave and Dirk are talking, and Dave admits it's possible that Bro was trying to train him, but all it did was make him scared.)

I wish we got to spend more time in the game with Aerith, but at least you get the sense that they do spend more time with each other, especially with Aerith being there for Zack after this.

MY BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL BOY! I wish your limit break looked cooler tho :P

Wait, so are Angeal and Genesis brothers then?? I knew they were connected through Gillian, but I guess how connected never hit me. I mean, Angeal defo has her hair while Genesis has her face, but also I've been imagining and seeing them as boyfriends this whole time???

So many mixed feelings about Zack right now. The first thing is yay, new hair cut! My sister absolutely hated his bangs, so big win for her. I do like that you get to see that, as one of the last remaining Firsts, Zack has started to take on more of a leadership and mentor role for the other SOLDIERs. However, him telling them to protect their SOLDIER honor is weird when Zack doesn't know what that is either. I've felt it, but I am glad Zack himself has acknowledged that he doesn't know what that honor is or what it means. I hope we get to see Zack figure it out. I also like that Zack is kind of unmoored and uncertain now. Puts him in an interesting place for whatever's next.

Beach episode! It is FUCKING INSANE to me that Cissnei just... tells Zack that Aerith is an Ancient. Why? What was the point of that? Cissnei, you can't just say that! I guess it could be seen as her trusting Zack and demonstrating she wants to help him, but it's still so weird. It's nice Zack has been said to be hanging with the turks more, but I wish we could have gotten more of that in game. I don't think he even knows Reno and Rude's names.

BOOO TSENG SHOULD BE IN A SWIMSUIT TOO BOO!

So I know Genesis is still alive, but interesting that this is beign considered since it's Sephiroth's whole deal. Tbh, tho, I'm not sure how I feel about Tseng openly acknowledging that Mako is life. How much is that recognized in general, actually? I mean, people do fade into mako when they die... hm, much to think about.

The chase through the city was so dumb, I've had it with Hollander, how hard can it be to catch and/or kill one guy for real. That being said, I do like how cool the buster sword is, and at the end is Sephiroth :D I'm glad that Zack seems a little bitter towards Sephiroth; they're both mourning in different ways, and it's driven a rift between both of them. But at the same time, they're the closest thing they both have to someone who can understand what they're going through.

Shoutout to Zack's little fidgets :D He's still a restless little puppy, despite it all. Sephiroth and Zack's relationship is just so good and interesting, I need them to hang out more so I can see more of it.

God Genesis is so pretty. Both him and Angeal have fucked up looking wings - which adds to what they're going through - but I actually love it for Genesis. Again, what is this dude's goal? He'll probably tell you once he figured it out himself. I love the reveal that he was also at Junon this whole time. Interesting parallel to how the Firsts fought 'at Junon' altogether and now they can't be further apart.

I need to pet that dog! Is Angeal still alive?? I totally thought he died, he has to be dead, right? Just living on in his copies? Anyway, the dog should be a character who manages to live forever because I love him. Also, laughed so hard when the little Shinra robots came into the church oh my god, it's not supposed to be funny I think but it's hilarious how non-threatening they look.

Wow Kunsel, jealous much?? Also, a little creepy? Is my boyfriend stalking me? If I trusted Kunsel, at this point I'd think he was going to betray me at some point, but I trust him too much for that. It seems more like Kunsel just doesn't know how to say 'I'm worried about you and you should talk to me about what you're going through'. I love Kunsel <3

As usual, this game feels like it goes too fucking fast. It's always one thing after another, nobody's talking or explaining things. Maybe it's because you're expected to do side missions every so often? That would probably break things up a bit more. God, there's such an interesting story here! I just wish it was told better.

Also I've been playing so much of this game and only just learned you can sprint :P

[22degreehalo]

Aaaaand I finally return with my next update for the Summer Fic Reading Challenge by @ficreadingchallenge!!!

And the end really is coming up, hahah... But I hope I will be able to finish the whole card before then! :)

Reviews/links under the cut~ Ships include Yuki/Kakeru, Aegon/Larys, Dirk/Jake, Archie+Jughead gen, Kirk/Spock, and Aegon/Helaena!

Domestic/Curtain Fic Like Fireworks in the Night Sky by PrincelyHairdos (86k, ongoing, Yuki/Kakeru) Uaaaaghhhhhhhhh OTL I really can’t recommend this fic enough if you want to fuck yourself up!!!!!! Yes, there’s the pining, and the achingly-sweet relationship between the main two boys, but they’re both in relationships at the start of the fic, and the story explores every little beat of the pain and awkwardness and tension of that premise!! None of the characters involved are bad people, and the story is equally sympathetic to all four of them, but Yuki is very much just forcing himself in his relationship with Machi (comphet up the wazoo), and although Kakeru and Komaki sincerely love each other, he and Yuki so obviously have this long-standing unintentional and unaware emotional affair going on that just gets more and more in between them! I chose this theme because so much of the Yuki/Kakeru relationship revolves around how comfortable around one another as uni students living in the same dorms; they’re not actual roommates, but they may as well be with easily they share their space, and it’s that pre-established and on-going easy domesticity that provides all the delicious, awful tension in their actual official relationships!

Rarepair Last Hope by Yarwrit (1.4k, Aegon/Larys) Of course for this theme I had to use a ship that I never possibly would’ve considered prior to that final episode of the show :’D But this fic was exactly what I wanted: Aegon’s despair and Lary’s quiet support; Aegon’s rationally skeptical of his sincerity, but so desperately needs some sort of a real friend, and the commonality between them as two disabled men rings true. Larys might well still just be manipulating him (I mean, that’s certainly at least part of what’s going on), but his attraction, at least, is real, and meaningful <3

Space AU it’s only a canvas sky by Mayleavestars (9.2k, Dirk/Jake) I really struggled with this theme for a while because I’m not much of an AU reader and all the space AUs I could find just felt like normal fics with a hand-waved set dressing. This fic was my saviour: the vaguely Star Trek universe setting relates perfectly to the long-distance communication Dirk and Jake had in canon, allowing for a dynamic that perfectly supports their canon personalities and relationship while giving enough of a twist to the formula to justify the AU. Oh, the pining; the rituals!

Angst love story (but it's platonic) by sharksarewaterdogs (2.8k, Jughead + Archie gen) Another soulmate mark fic, and another fun twist! Jughead's angst is super believable, not just worrying about himself but how Archie would feel to know that his soulmate is an aro/ace guy. But Archie is so sweet, and once the shock wears off, their friendship really does shine through! I always love to see a-spec fics with at least a lil non-fluffiness, and this was nice and cathartic <3

Author’s Oldest Fic The Word Withheld by j_s_cavalcante (12k, Kirk/Spock) Of course for this theme I had to go with one of the chronologically oldest ships I’ve been into, and what a beautiful fic I chose for that!! I have memories of AOS fic about Spock Prime encouraging his younger self tom seize the day and make the most of the time he has with Kirk, but applying that plot to TOS gives it all the more resonance given the way things turn out in the canon timeline. The quiet intimacy between Kirk and Spock is on full display here, and perfectly reminded me why I once read so many fics about these two <3

Bittersweet/Unhappy Ending lost innocence. By ProjectFreelancer (1.4k, Aegon/Helaena) :’( These two deserved so much better… Among all the longfic in this fandom I was soooo happy to see this shorter and more melancholy missing-scenes type fic, elaborating on this relationship we haven’t gotten to see nearly enough of, with a particular focus on the actually pretty damn traumatic circumstances of their marriage!! It ends on a positive note for the whole family… but we already know how this story ends. :(

And that's all so far!!

Of the spaces left, I have a definite fic in mind for 'Enemies to Friends / Lovers' (it's just a matter of finishing it first; could've done that before making this post but I've delayed long enough already :') ), and a potential something for Take Your Fandom To Work and Secret Relationship. I didn't expect that last one to be difficult given how much I love the trope, but maybe I just need to try some other pairings... And I've always figured it wouldn't be too hard to find something for Whump once I get in the mood, heh.

So with all that, it'll just be a matter of which of the random non-recced fics I've read recently I should use for the Free Space!! n.n

(Also ahhhhh I really did expect to ask for another card before this thing ended... but that'd be kinda pointless now, huh :'D)

(Also? Yes, I have indeed managed all different ships for each square so far. :'DDD No idea how it's worked out that way, but I can't bring myself to stop now!!)

[davepetacreates]

used to be, you and me, matching kawasaki z's, ride around 270 in kawasaki tees two fighter jets with matching energy, trying to forget that we're in ejection seats

dave leans back, sprawled on the couch. tonight is a night to relax and try not to remember. he's happy. he's happy. he's happy. he's got to remind himself of this fact. [that would be a red flag if he knew how to get in touch with his emotions at all.]

it's kind of funny, how fucked up he is... how fucked up it all is. how karkat stormed out the door, late one night, never came back. how downhill everything was from there. no one to bring him back up. old polaroids, ripped up, burned, flushed down the drain. he'll never get those memories back. and right now he doesn't want to. right now is the time to forget. or at least try not to remember. because he's happy right now.

jade is sound asleep in her bedroom, and he can hear her snoring from here, even over the (quieted) sounds of the television, which is currently playing an old superhero movie. the romance subplot makes his stomach churn a bit but it's sweet enough, he supposes. just reminds him too much.

a roll of thunder interrupts his thoughts, and he jumps, eyes darting as he sits up straight. it's safe, isn't it? he's all alone, in his apartment. calm down, dave. no one's there.

and then there's a knock on the door.

so he gets up, goes to open it. it's going to be fine. bro is dead, and dirk is with rose this weekend. it's not like anyone is going to hurt him.

he takes a look through the peephole, and it feels worse than if he'd been physically hurt.

that's karkat, back from the dead. how fucking dare he. the insolence. his first reaction is to cry, his second to yell, his third to open the door and slam it in karkat's face, his fourth to open the door and hug him, bawling. that's so uncool, but he doesn't care. karkat's alive. karkat's alive! karkat's alive.

he opens the door, tears in his eyes, no sunglasses, uncaring of the rain pouring down and soaking karkat's outfit as he pulls the shorter boy into a hug. karkat makes an oomph noise, hugging him back. "ack- strider- i'm all wet-"

"you're alive," dave says, in wonder. "i thought you'd died! gone off and committed suicide in the woods somewhere! holy hell, karkat, you're thin- come in, come in, i'll get you something."

the last time he saw karkat, the boy had been running from an abusive family, and dave accidentally said the wrong things. he has to do better. he has to work harder. he has to communicate right.

karkat hesitantly steps inside. "so, what brings you back here?" dave asks him, the air tense. "are you safe?"

"here i am," karkat grumbles. "the kid i moved in with when i left overdosed, and you were the first person i thought of to come to..."

"shit, that sucks. are you alright? want a hug or a talk or something, i guess?"

"wow, dave strider offering to talk about feelings? that's new. i never thought i'd see the fucking day," karkat snarks, and dave laughs.

"yeah, i've been... working on myself," dave admits, running a hand through his hair. "ever since you left, i realized i still had a lot to do about myself, and... well, thinking you were dead kinda made me realize my own mortality."

"i'm sorry i ran off like that," karkat says. "i know i was a fucking pissant back then, still haunts me. doesn't excuse what i did but hopefully it'll give you some closure..."

"yeah, that's fine..." dave doesn't know what to say. he just looks into karkat's eyes, and karkat looks back. "i missed you, dude."

"heh. missed you too, dave."

[fanficfanattic]

Got tagged by several lovely people because no one knew I’d already been tagged. Because it took me several hours to copy/paste WIP titles/first sentences into a document lolol. Super happy to finally make it happen though @orbitalpirate @kvetchinglyneurotic and @jamietarttdodododododo !

Game: put the titles of your WIPs, reguardless of how vague or uninformative they are and let people send asks about them. Tag some people, maybe the amount of WIPs you have.

A) I’m big in Ted Lasso so I’m only posting the 120 for this fandom. If someone wants the list of 50 for Dirk Gently or 2 dozen for My Hero Academia; just holler at me!

Battler

Choir Jamie

Jamie v Nate

Back’s Against the Wall, Takes the Hit For Us All

Block His Number

Sam's Dad Take 1

You've Become a Good Person

Jamie Forgives Nate

Season 2 era Dani/Jamie

"Higgins ""well I think if you care about"

Playlist Fic

Keeley Got Pregnant Season 1

A/B/O: All Roy's Headbutts Damage His Scent

James Tart Sr Plants Drugs

Jamie to Ted But Kind of Everyone.

Memories

Dad Like a Hornet

Season One or Two

Henry Calls Ted So He Can Talk to Jamie

Bus Ride Nightmare

Soulmate AU

Beard

Jamie's Coming Out Movies Playlists

Decided on LCA Because Healing Broken Ribs

Jamie's Aunties

One of the Georgie Brings a Video A..

DANI sharing his father

Patty Comes to Dressing Room to D..

RoyxJamie wedding fic

JamieDaniSam

Roy Saying Jamie Threw Away His Career

Roy Realizes Jamie is Scared at the Gala

Roy Kent's Pet

Jamie Nightmare on Bus Season 1 A..

Trust

Why He Had to Push Roy's Buttons

Why He Has to Be Great

Tom O'Brien/Paul Reynolds

James Tart Hurts Jamie Before His First Game Back

Pussy

Will Sees Jamie Injured & Hears Convo With Dad

Jamie's Trent Impression

You don't know anything about me!

Simon Shows Up to Take Jamie to A&E

Georgie The Harpoonist

Jamie's Make-a-Wish kids

"Georgie ""I taught him to fight but not how to stop"""

Poet Jamie

Jamie being overwhelmed with pleasure

Amy from LCA comes to visit s2 Jamie

Dani starts dating Jamie S1

Jamie's First Day Back Had a Responsible Meeting with Team

Jamie's Mom RE His Dad

Car Park Kid Video

Mystical Team Building

Jamie Comforts Phoebe Gets Hit By Roy

Ransom Fic

Georgie's Video Memories

Jamie & Jan

Jamie flirts with Paddy on the Pitch

Show Up: Convo with Phoebe

Nonsexual A/B/O: Sam is Jamie's Alpha

Ted Lasso and Dirk Gentle crossover

Lads Watch Porn

James & Bug Attack Jamie

Collar?

Every Text is A Crime

Roy Asks Keeley for Jamie Advice and Doesn't Ignore It

Georgie Gave Jamie to James to Protect Herself

Roy Sees Jamie’s Ass in a Mirror and Goes Gay

Family Day Positive Georgie

Season 1 Jamie has friends visit

Zava Multi-Chapter

Jamie Thinks Ted sent him back b/c injury

Led Tasso

Princesses and Dragon

Social Worker Jamie

Coach Crash: Pinned

S1 Jamie, Simon Dies

Time Loop

1.10: Will tries to stop James Tartt Sr

S2 Jamie kidnapped for fighting ring

Ted Laskmaster

Roy's Extra Special Football Baby

Gordon Ramsay Reminds Jamie of Someone

Paddy Insta Live

Touch Issues

Georgie Turns James In Season 2

James Fakes His Own Death

Someone Talks to Roy About How He Treats Jamie

Sam Learns to Top Season 1 Team

Yeah? Me old man thinks you and he are just alike

Teaching Phoebe Art Fic

Early Season 2, Team Tricks Jamie

Ted DOES Go in the Treatment Room

Isolation

S3 Declan/Jamie

1.06 Jamie Collapses on Pitch During Cone Duty

"""Roy Won't Hurt Me"""

Jamie's Issue with Dead People

Family Curse

Sold After LCA

Investigative Journalist

Group Home

Belted

James Visits S1 Richmond

Dani Checks Treatment Rooms after games

"""I like history, it’s already happened so it’s easier to understand"""

The Stands

Keeley Teaches Roy How to Teach Jamie

Trick Plays

Pacifier fic

Fresh Back S2 Jamie Helps Ted with Panic Attack

S2 Jamie Saves Girl From Getting Drugged

1.06 Jamie Panic Attack

James Beats Jamie for Getting Benched

You Told Me You Saw It

S2 Roy Breaks Tartt Silence but to Yell at Ted

Mind Games

S1 Jamie Ices Out Colin and Isaac

[the-down-upside-finch]

Trick or treat!

Hello hello!! I shall give you... a treat! 🍭

Here’s a random "snippet" from my WIP, Stained Integrity! I decided to drop a pretty long bit (a king-sized candy bar, if you will), so I'll put it under the cut.

(For one of the many Trick or Treat events!)

(CW: minor violence, mention of blood, mention of death)

“Whatever.” Fluke turned to face Blight. “So, what now? You gonna teach us how’da kill?”

“No.” Blight widened his stance, purposefully putting more weight on his right foot. “We are going to see how long it takes each of you to disarm me.”

“Oh, how fun!” Firetail clapped his hands together, his voice oozing with sarcasm. “And here I was, thinking we were done playing around!”

“You may go first, if you’re so excited,” Blight dryly responded, unsheathing his practice sword and gesturing at the selection of practice weapons that the newcomers could choose from.

“No rules?” Firetail raised an eyebrow.

“You may do anything non-lethal that will not draw blood or render me unconscious.”

“Lovely.” Firetail’s eyes flashed another smirk.

Much to Blight’s surprise, the Morunton selected the rapier.

“You’re a lefty,” Blight observed.

“And what of it?” Firetail coolly responded.

“I also favor my left hand,” Blight said. “But I’ve been equally trained in both, so sometimes I hardly notice which hand I’m using.”

“Fascinating.” Firetail restlessly weighed the sword in his hand.

Blight didn’t bother giving a signal. The trial had already taught the newcomers their first lesson—that no one in the real world waited for a signal.

Firetail immediately went for Blight’s right side, falling for the trap that Blight had set up to take advantage of the Morunton’s observant nature. He was ready for the attack, neatly dodging—and then barely catching himself as he felt something—most likely a foot—connect with the back of his left knee.

He knew the obvious thing to do would be to throw his weight backwards, since he had stumbled forward—so he feinted to the right and then recovered his balance just in time to block Firetail’s grab.

The scuffle lasted longer than Blight would have liked—especially since Firetail’s bladework was frustratingly clean and well-practiced. He should have been able to easily disarm Blight in only a few steps, but it took him nearly five minutes.

But the Elmalian knew exactly what the Morunton was doing.

“I suppose that could have been worse,” Blight remarked, reminding himself to hold his tongue. “Your turn, Ardalian.”

Fluke stepped forward, having chosen a practice dirk as his weapon.

“Bringing a knife to a sword fight, are you?” Firetail chuckled.

“Aye—better watch and learn, foxer.” Fluke sneered.

Blight was more comfortable fighting against daggers than he wanted to admit, thanks to the fact that most outlaws favored smaller weapons and often had at least three in their possession at all times.

Just like Doom had said, Fluke was a dirty fighter. He toyed with Blight for a moment or two before he disarmed him. The fight barely lasted a minute.

“See?” Fluke tossed Blight’s practice sword at his feet. “Told’ja he’s all talk,” he said, jerking his head towards the Morunton.

“Me—all talk!” Firetail threw back his head and laughed. “Tell me, Fluke—do you like to gamble?”

“What’re you on about?” Fluke growled.

“How much shall we bet that I can disarm you in under ten seconds?” Firetail’s eyes flashed with glee.

Fluke glanced at Blight.

“...I’ll allow it,” Blight said, deciding he’d rather test his theory without needing a second fight against Firetail.

“Brill.” Fluke smugly grinned. “Shall we bet your marble?”

Blight almost intervened, but Firetail just laughed.

“And what do I get if I win?” he cheekily asked.

“You’re not gonna ask for my liver?”

“Ardalian livers are too toxic for my taste,” Firetail dismissively said. “I’d rather have some of your energy.”

“Deal.” Fluke stuck out his hand.

Firetail paused, then he politely shook Fluke’s hand—and courteously released his grip before he lunged.

Blight flinched as Fluke hit the floor with a sickening THUD.

“Shall we do best two out of three?” Firetail said.

Fluke went down again in less than three seconds.

Blight uneasily regarded the Morunton, both pleased and disgusted by Firetail’s mind games. He had concealed his true abilities during his fight with Blight, using it as an opportunity to get a reading on his technique. Clearly, he had gotten a decent reading during Fluke’s short fight, as well.

“Don’t worry,” Firetail drawled, putting two fingers under Fluke’s chin. “I’ll wait until after the lesson to claim my reward.”

Fluke jerked away, muttering a string of curse words under his breath.

Enjoy the treat!! 🍭

(Invoking the tag list in case you guys wanna read a really long snippet: @athenswrites, @my-cursed-prince)

[callmearcturus]

Hello archtaurus can you talk about the consent situation happening in ktowl asking for a friend

golly gee, for a friend huh

(reminder to all: i lowkey wrote KTOWL as an attack on this motherfucker.)

I know I have a few people still reading KTWOL who are following me. THIS POST ISN'T FOR YOU. DO NOT READ THIS UNTIL YOU FINISH THE MAIN STORY. SPOILERS FUCKING ABOUND.

Also disclaimer death of the author blah blah, you know what it is

Okay lets talk about KTOWL and Consent.

So I tagged KTOWL as "Meaningless Consent" for a lot of reasons and a lot of them have nothing to do with sex at all. But some do!

The most obvious aspect of this is Dave and his tenure at the Umbra and the matter of tokens. I have frequently had people ask for clarification on this, which I'm sometimes a little gunshy to spell out explicitly because I do like leaving some things to the reader to puzzle out and to make inferences about.

But the thing about the Umbra that is a running thread through the entire story is how it erodes people. It rubs off everything that resists it like a constant river rushing over everyone.

In Dave's case, he's in a uniquely fucked position. The Umbra explicitly serves all comers and all tastes, both for a business and because it thrills the Cherubs and fulfills their terrible appetites. Dave is trapped in that system because he cannot leave the Umbra.

"Can't Dave deny someone a token use?" is a very common question people have, and one I intended KTOWL to tacitly answer, thought it's never Stated Outright. Because lets say Aradia is handed a token and she doesn't want to fulfill it for whatever reason. She is contractless and can literally leave the Umbra at any time. She had leverage to say no.

Dave, on the other hand, has no leverage, so he tries to carve out his concessions with a blunt knife. When Karkat gives him a green token, he immediately grabs it and tries to give Karkat a really good time because, in the future, he wants Karkat to keep picking green. Green is way more palatable to Dave than red.

On the other hand, there's Cronus, who wants red tokens because he has pitch designs on Dave. If you would like, you could infer that Cronus once upon a time flush flirted with Dave, but as Dave started to openly dislike Cronus for his many many many many faults, instead of stepping the fuck off, Cronus started employing the red tokens to try and build a pitch relationship with Dave. And it fucking sucks, and Dave is back into a corner because as someone stuck in the Umbra, someone under Calliope's avaricious eye, he doesn't have leverage.

There's a very purposeful recurring theme with Dave and how he interacts with Karkat. Dave enforces his boundaries bodily and verbally with Karkat. He pushes against Karkat's boundaries to see what he'll do. He directs the relationship, both in the sense that Dave is routinely the 'dominant' force during sex, and also that he grows to demand affection and attention from Karkat when he wants it.

So, was Karkat and Dave's relationship consensual from the word go? No, because they're stuck in a place where that is meaningless. What is hopefully admirable is the way they both meet each other and do their best to claw out a space for themselves where they feel like the have control, even if its in a delicate bubble they have made for themselves. As evidenced by how Calliope pops it when she's finally fed up with Dave's moodiness and the fact he's not playing along with her anymore.

SO YOU KNOW WHO HAS IT EVEN WORSE? FUCKING DIRK STRIDER.

And here we come to The Point.

Less hardened hearts may balk at the question: Is Jake and Dirk's relationship consensual?

Nope! But for Dirk Strider, consent is even more meaningless than it is for Dave, and i would character the difference between the two that Dave has wiggle room to carve out something equitable with Karkat, but Dirk's hands are tied and he can't do fucking anything.

In the first Abraxas Intermission, Jake has a conversation with his gran about the Umbra and mentions how he dislikes the desperation. It's a word that gets stuck in Dirk's head and haunts him. When Jake goes to the Umbra to meet Dave, he tells Dave what's been done to him is gruesome, and twice in that chapter, Dave unconsciously repeats Jake's phrasing, like Jake has somehow seeded a virus in his mind.

This is very much at the core of how Jake operates, honestly, and he does it to everyone. He presents a new reality to people and his viewpoint slowly infects them, until Dirk breaks his Executor's Code, until Dave has his full tilt breakdown, until Rose can only entertain the idea of murdering Jake instead of doing the deed. His power is charisma, and I cannot overstate how dangerous it is in his hands. There's nothing more powerful than someone who knows exactly how dangerous he is.

So anyway, back to Dirk. This is made very explicit in the second Intermission, but Dirk has lost everything. The Umbra has eroded more of him than it has of anyone else. He has no desires other than Caliborn's whim and Dave's safety (both not related to Dirk himself, you should note). He has no hobbies he doesn't share with Dave. He doesn't want things. He has been raised to be a tool and then he has been used as a tool for so fucking long, there is nothing left.

I'm trying to put into words the affliction that Dirk has been struck with, that has been forced onto him by the Cherubs. Like, one of the most horrible things that Calliope ever does to my personal estimation is a throwaway line Dirk shares when Jake is interrogating him:

Dirk's voice shook with anger as he told Jake about her: her lingering glances, about the armband she wore that kept her within five miles of Caliborn, about how she lured more people into confinement with her, about the time she said Dave's eyes looked like maraschino cherries, about the time she'd asked Dirk to hold her as she cried over the latest stupid thing Caliborn had done.

Even the sanctity of Dirk's emotions has been violated to the point he doesn't have them. His body, his work ethic, his skills, his emotions have been fashioned into a tool for the Umbra to use as it likes, and he has no end in sight. He is never getting out. He's not even trying to get out! He has no desire to escape the Umbra, just to get Dave out of the Umbra.

[huge breath]

So when I think about Dirk Strider and consent, my truest, most honest thought is "what fucking consent." This is a person who doesn't have anything to consent to, doesn't have anything to consent with, so for him even more than anyone else in the story, Consent Is Literally Meaningless. There is nothing he can give and there is nothing you can take from him, he is a desolation shaped like a man.

Enter Jake "Abraxas" English.

And I want to be very clear: Jake is not and has never been The Good Guy of KTOWL. He was, in my very first draft notes before I wrote a single line of the story, was simply A Comparatively Better Monster, comparing to Caliborn and Calliope.

The one virtue that Jake has, that drives the story and in my opinion makes KTOWL function at all is that Jake does want Dirk's body. He wants his desires. He wants his emotions. He wants his talents. He wants Dirk as a person in a way that is anathema to what Dirk has become.

When Jake drugs Dirk and wrings the truth out of him, it is technically a transgression, but to me it doesn't feel like one. Dirk doesn't even come out of it thinking of it like one because... why would he? He has nothing you can inflict on him.

But that leads directly into what Jake does in the second intermission, of course. Yes, Jake is capturing Dirk to give Karkat the shot he needs to wreck some fucking havoc, but also Jake sequesters Dirk away and--

lol there's a subtle joke about this that some people caught actually, in Rose's POV chapter when she thinks about Jake and Dirk's little 'vacation' she imagines it's very an extremely vigorous sex romp. But in truth, they fuck a few times but mostly...

Jake wants Dirk. He wants to find the core of Dirk that has been neglected for probably over a decade, and he wants to get his hands on that thing. He wants to know what Dirk's scars came from. He wants to see Dirk laugh. He wants to know what Dirk thinks about when he is not thinking about being an executor. He wants Dirk to be a fucking Real Boy again! He sees himself in Dirk, because Jake himself was Made rather than born, and he knows a thing or two about what that's like.

It's not... noble. It's still selfish. It's still rooted in Jake's rule-based morality. He doesn't want to save Dirk and Dave because Rose told him to or because it's the right thing to do, he sees their situation as a severe and dangerous breach of the rules, and he's offended and he's righteous. Jake believes/knows he can do it better, and he will make that happen, hook or crook.

So when I think about "is dirk and jake dubcon? D/s? some kind of 24 hour arrangement of power?" it's all interesting to think about, but on some level I think it's entirely besides the point. You are welcome to disagree, this is my opinion.

Then, KTOWL the main story ends, and Dirk signs on with Jake, and it's not even a question. Now, technically, Dirk.... didn't have to do that. He could have, technically, put the pen down and walked away and been a normal contractor or something. His weregild debt wouldn't vanish, but he didn't have to be Jake's executor.

But the thought never crosses his mind. The ability to say "no" is one of the many things the Cherubs removed from Dirk's mind.

Is that a sad thing? Hm. I'm not sure. Maybe it is for some readers, but to me... it's not a secret that KTOWL is a continuation of an idea I first explored in pump your veins in gushing gold. In GG, Dirk does manage to escape Jake's grasp, but then turns around and puts himself right back into it, on his own terms, and accepts what is basically ownership by a fae.

Jake Abraxas English is not a fae, and yet he's far more dangerous than one. But he is, in a sense, the only person who can handle Dirk Strider. Which... includes Dirk himself.

I'm going to explore this concept in a Dirk-centric coda that I'm working on (and posted a preview of last week I think) but Jake is invested in Dirk as a person and wants to see him.... become a person again. In some ways, Dirk is much more feral than Jake is. (I said in the comments of the second intermission chapter that the core of the Dirk thing is that Dirk feels like he's the sanest person in any given room, but really he's shithive fucking nuts and everyone else knows it.)

But it's a long road, and it's going to be a longterm project, the reconstruction of Dirk Strider. He has spent so long living for Dave's sake, taking that way without any kind of fallback or safety net is frankly extremely dangerous for a man like Dirk. But luckily(?) Jake is ready to catch him and to try and resocialize Dirk into something other than a tool. But he does and will continue to use methods that would be severely fucked up if employed on anyone else.

Because we joke about how Jake is a horny weirdo, but the thing is, so is Dirk. They are the only people who can handle each other. And Jake is an obsessive amoral freak who will put all of his talents and resources into... saving Dirk Strider. Even if it takes the rest of their lives.

And that is why consent in KTOWL is meaningless. /jazzhands

Oh btw is is one of the many ways in which Jake and Karkat are foils.

[playedbetter]

@the-haunted-office said: From the multimuse questions meme: 5, 9, 13, 14, 25

(Soft reminder to please include the full context, meaning the full prompt/question not just the number/symbol when sending me memes)

which of your muses needs / wants a hug the most?

Going by my current fandom divisions (which I need to put on my doc along with a lot of new muses)

Crime: Kento and his past life Dolly Harris tie for need thanks to being abducted from their families and raised without love; Haru Maeda is the runner up. Badger would like a hug the most.

Horror: Clara both needs and wants one the most on account of being sixteen, responsible for saving a town, and hated by nearly everybody.

Superhero: Incredibly tough competition due to taking this to mean love and affection there is a three way tie between Zatanna Zatara, Zachary Zatara, and Nick Necro. All of them crave love and affection and all have things that get in the way of that. Nathan McDonald wants a hug the most.

Vampires: Lucy Westenra, between all the infantileaztion she went through, dying horribly at age nineteen, and then everything afterwards, she really could use a hug.

Actual Play: Beauregard Lionett, please give this woman a sense of security with the people she loves.

Discworld: I can't recommend hugging any of them for either your safeties stake (Vimes, Vetinari, Adora) or your wallets (Moist). That said, Moist von Lipwig.

Dragon Age: Zinnia Lavellan, she has suffered more than Andraste and her story isn't even over yet.

League of Legends: A tie between Aphelios and Alune, both isolated terribly and put through questionable training and oppression that threatened their lives.

Borderlands: 100% Angel, any sort of affection or love would be amazing for her.

Overwatch: Amélie LaCroix takes the cake thanks to everything that Talon has put her through, please hug her.

Team Fortress 2: Honestly I don't think a hug would help any of them in any major way, though Heavy likes hugs so go give him one.

Misc: The Narrator and Joey Mallone tie for both having spent countless years unable to touch anybody else and watch their loved one slowly die while either going insane or watching their loved one be insane.

Danganronpa: Mukuro Ikusaba and Inuko Hachiya tie thanks to both growing up in completely child inappropriate situations and facing heavy abuse for the stake of despair.

Homestuck: Vriska Serket, another case of how much a secure relationship would actually help.

which of your muses tends to be the group “mom friend”?

Going by my current fandom divisions

Crime: Dallas, he goes mother hen over the gang and trying to get them to get along.

Horror: Artemy Brukah, he can't help but worry so much about everyone and making sure they all have what they need.

Superhero: Barbara Gordon, even when you don't know it she will have your back and keep you covered.

Vampires: Don't say it to her face but Damsel, she is shockingly nosey and absolutely will show you the ropes, there's a reason she's known as a den mother.

Actual Play: None of them, Fjord comes the closest but he's more of a dad friend.

Discworld: By the metric of being nurturing Vetinari, nobody in their right mind would say this though.

Dragon Age: Garrett Hawke, before every adventure he makes sure everybody has their gear, he will cook you soup, he will make you wear warm clothing in winter.

League of Legends: Yone. Literally canonically described as a mom friend.

Borderlands: Absolutely none of them asking for responsibility from these people is like asking water from a rock.

Overwatch: Honestly none of these guys either, none of them are really that nurturing.

Team Fortress 2: Heavy is the only one of them worth a nurturing bone in his body.

Misc: Kim Kitsuragi, his near endless patience and calming affect let him take the spot with ease, and is the blog wide answer.

Danganronpa: Hajime Hinata, exasperated but still trying.

Homestuck: Dirk Strider, which helps exactly zero people.

which of your muses would you consider to be the best cook? (Also asked by @amadaans, ty!)

Excluding Izuru Kamakura & Hajime Hinata given that he is the best at practically everything possible in his universe; it would be Zachary Zatara, he has an active interest in cooking and it's a skill he works on.

While not quite cooking the best mixologist (with the same exclusions) is Leah Kravitz thanks to spending a little over ten years working the New York club scene, Zach in his ritual and injustice verses is a runner up.

Baking wise (same exclusions) it would also be Zach, honestly not a lot of my muses are interested in cooking beyond just taking care of themselves and those that are don't have the time or resources to put into it.

which of your muses second guesses themselves the most? why?

Again by fandom cause I have too many thoughts.

Crime: Kento, he has been trained his whole life to obey orders, so when acting independently he never is quite sure he's doing the right thing.

Horror: Artemy Brukah and Clara tie as they have relived the same 12 days unable to stop many horrible events which has left them questioning what on earth else they could do to try to prevent harm and what the best path really is as none of the roles presented to them are appealing.

Superhero: Nathan McDonald, he is a nineteen year old who is deeply depressed and self depreciating, he is trying his best be he's not sure if it's enough. He hasn't gotten a chance to prove himself.

Vampires: Heather Poe, pre her ghouling she was a pretty anxious person that struggled even just going outside. Some of those doubts remain even now.

Actual Play: A tie between Caleb Widogast and Essek Thelyss, how could they ever fully trust themselves again after what they had done? Caleb grows from this faster than Essek.

Discworld: Vimes, if he fucks up someone is probably going to die. He second guesses himself to a healthy degree.

Dragon Age: Matthew Trevelyan, he spent his life getting indoctrinated by the templars and as he would put 'fell for 'it'. He's worried he's still that gullible, or that those beliefs rubbed off on ways he hasn't noticed.

League of Legends: Lukai Hwei, he was raised having to suppress his mental health issues and emotions which has left him underequiped to deal with them now, even so he has the self awareness to question himself as much as he does everybody else.

Borderlands: Angel by default as the only one without some sort of ego problem, it's certainly not her biggest problem.

Overwatch: Gabriel Reyes, he's made a lot of costly mistakes over the years and he's tired of it.

Team Fortress 2: Spy, his job is a paranoia inducing one where the slightest misstep could spell his death.

Misc: Harry Du Bois, half the time when he's said something he's thinking to himself "why the fuck would you say that"

Danganronpa: Yumeto Ariyoshi, he has actual anxiety and is pretty sure if anyone found out the truth about him he would get promptly killed or erased.

Homestuck: Dirk Strider, because he's fucked up so much before, unfortunately the second guessing does nothing to help.

which of your muses has / would have the silliest ringtone? what would it be?

Harry Du Bois, whose ringtone for literally everybody is this:

It has outed him on an undercover job.

[harmonyckrs]

Day 7 in Twisted Pleasantview: Chilling at Home

THE PREVIOUS DAY

NAME: RIPP GRUNT

LIFE STAGE: TEEN

STATUS: ALIVE, BUGGED FUNCTIONAL

SPECIAL NOTES: Behind the cheerful face of one of the most popular kids at Crumplebottom Academy is a deeply traumatized child who just wants to be understood.

---

Dear Diary,

As I expected, Angela was kind of pissed about me telling Mom about us seeing her make out with Cassandra, and it go so bad she went to her room and locked the door. I decided it would be good to get some space, and since Mom was at work and Dad was at the hospital as a result of the maid getting him pregnant (and no I'm not sure how that happened) I decided to invite Ripp over.

Ripp asked me about my report, and mentioned that he already finished his thanks to some special connections. Initially I thought this meant that he cheated by having someone else do it, but it turns out his family knows superstar Tom Vandermorgan and he was able to interview him instead. Honestly would've been more impressive it was his brother Reed Vandermorgan, who's way cuter than he is (I'd choose a rockstar over a jock anytime), but honestly still pretty cool

I decided to tell him about Pascal, and it turns out Ripp was also from Strangetown. He confirmed that there was indeed an invasion, though that they had to leave for Pleasantview sometime before that happened due to their father disappearing so he didn't know all of the details. As of now he and his brothers are living with his uncle Julien, who works as a chef.

We then talked about some of the disappearances, and I realized Ripp never met Dustin or Dirk. Going to write a reminder here to throw a party so they could all meet. Ripp said he had a theory that the disappearances were the results of aliens, then started laughing about how ironic it was that his dad who hated aliens ended up being abducted by one. I didn't really understand what was going on or what he was saying, so I just nodded along and pretended to understand.

After Ripp went home, I got that phone call from Vidcund. He asked me to move to a private area (which I didn't need to do because there was nobody else home), before asking me some questions about Mom and Dad and their careers. I told him everything, which also included Mom and Dad cheating on each other with the maid and Cassandra. After that I asked him what he needed the information for, and he said it was secret.

I heard a woman laughing on the other end and some whispering from her and Vidcund about "giving the Goths exactly what they deserve." I would've asked them about it, but quite frankly I do not want to get in the way of their revenge plans or else I'll end up being on the receiving end of them, and I don't really care about the Goths either. I guess as long as they don't kill Alexander or something (don't really care for him but he is just a kid and I'm pretty sure he hasn't done anything) then it's fine.

THE NEXT DAY

[trumpets0ng]

227 - “Arrangements”

Beginning / Previously /Next

((Mutual Friend - Jessie Reyez))

For easier reading, please see transcript below:

W: *deep yawn* Sorry.

P: So, what time did Obie get in?

W: He landed about 9:30, but we didn’t get home until about 11.

P: *smirks* That wasn’t my question…

W: *both laugh* Ew! None of your business!

P: *still laughing* Come on! I am officially living vicariously through you and Dev!

W: Now, that’s just sad.

P: Tell me about it. I haven’t had a drought this severe since sophomore year!

W: Ali—

P: Ali has a girlfriend. That ship has sailed and sunk.

W: What about Kareem or better yet; Drew?

P: Dirk’s Drew? *Walker nods* What about him?

W: You two seemed to have had a nice rapport going in Sulani.

P: I mean, he’s cool… but I think Olivia or Zhi are more his taste, to be honest.

W: You sure about that?

P: No. But that’s not a road I really wanna go down. Right now, I just wanna get through Harvestfest with the Lane-Dreamer clans.

W: Remind me again how you got stuck with that?

P: Hell, if I know. But I’ve already rsvp’d at Dev’s insistence. Should be fun though. Her brothers fly in Tuesday night. Ooh! You should come have a drink with us! Bring Obie.

W: Can’t. We fly out first thing Wednesday; and I mean, first thing! *Penny chuckles* He insisted we go early to get an extra, “full” day.

P: It’s cute how much he loves your family.

W: Yeah, and a little annoying. I think they like him better. *smiling to herself*

P: Nervous?

W: *confused* Should I be? *Penny shrugs, shaking her head noncommittally* They’ve already met and absolutely love him.

P: And Xander? I assume he’ll be there…

W: *softly* Probably… who knows? If I call him, he sends me to voicemail.

P: When was the last time you spoke?

W: Actually spoke? *Penny raises an eyebrow* He’ll text from time to time… like my birthday. But we haven’t actually spoken since Winterfest.

P: Seriously?! *Walker shrugs uncomfortably* Are you ok?

W: Does it matter? *Penny sighs* Look, if it were normal circumstances, I’d be pissed! But they’re not. I woocked up… and now he’s struggling.

P: He’s a big boy, Wawa—

W: I know that. But this isn’t all on him. I dropped a bomb and ran—

P: Which he decided to detonate—

W: After I handed him a lighter! I’m not saying it’s not entirely my fault. I know it’s not. But a major part is. *awkward silence* I just wanted to touch base before we got out there—

P: Why?

W: You didn’t see him at Winterfest! He was gaunt… drinking too much… and now from everything I hear… I don’t want to blindside him.

P: He’s not an idiot. I’m sure he knows you’re coming.

W: Even so—

P: No! Walker, listen… I know what he meant—means to you. But there’s nothing you can do right now. This is one journey, that he’s gotta take on his own. If he needs you, he’ll say so. But the fact that he’s not reaching out, is all you need to know for now. Focus on your life and your man. You can’t afford a repeat of last Winterfest and expect Obie to be ok with it. Xander will be fine with or without you. And though it sucks, you need to be prepared for the possibility that it might just be without you.

[kolbietheaggrievedwriter]

Someone has written their own take on a BrOC (which you should check out!), and it reminded me of my first iteration of jumpstart, where I initially thrust our OC into Bro eight years before canon. I prefer the current plot, especially bc I absolutely do not know how to write a 5 year old. But it's a fun little idea.

-

You allow your head to thunk onto the counter. The pain barely registers through your panic. You've been denying the possibility the moment you woke up and discovered that you had switched both locations and bodies overnight, but it's been half an hour. Nothing's changed. It's not a dream. Your name is (probably) Dirk Strider, and you are absolutely, undeniably fucked.

"Bro?" And that's a kid calling out to you, jesus christ.

You don't want to look up. You don't want to acknowledge the reality of your situation. But there's a kid involved, and you could never put your own discomfort above the wellbeing of a child. Besides, you have a pretty good idea who that kid is, and he definitely doesn't deserve to have his (probable) guardian ignore him.

You lift your head and get your first good look at the real life version of Dave motherfucking Strider. He's tiny, is your first thought. Itty bitty. He can't be older than four or five. He's also wearing tiny duplicates of the cringe shades you haven't had the courage to actually put on your face without dying of embarrassment, and he's fucking adorable. What the hell. Why can a kid pull off those dumbass shades better than you?

Probably because kids can make anything look cute, but a grown ass man would just look like some weeaboo dipshit.

"Sup, li'l man," is what comes out when you open your mouth to answer him. What the fuck. Is Bro, like…still inside you? Well, he can just get fucked then. You're in charge now. 

Dave approaches you slowly, cautiously, like he's going to get in trouble if he gets too close. "Sup," he says, pushing his shades back up when they slide down. 

"How old are you now?" You ask, monotone, which is weird as fuck because you're not particularly trying to not emote, but you figure this body has been programmed to do this shit for, what - twenty something years now? People say habits are hard to break for a reason. 

Dave apparently doesn't think anything of your question because he doesn't hesitate to answer. "I'm five," he says, drifting closer to you almost like he can't help himself, even despite his wariness. "It's my birthday," he adds, aiming for the same monotone shtick you've got going on but missing by a mile. He's obviously hoping for something, and you bet those big eyes are shining with fragile expectation behind the mini shades.

"Five," you say, contemplative, as an idea strikes. You're not going to abuse a small child, so sticking to the script is a no go. Might as well go completely off the rails and do things your way. "That's a big milestone for a li'l dude. Now that you've made it five whole years, I think it's about time you were officially designated as my li'l bro."

"Li'l bro?" Dave parrots, curious but trying not to seem so. The shades slip again. He pushes them back up.

"Yup. You're my bro now, so things between us are gonna change a bit. No more acting like we're too cool for school around each other, alright? That shit's for other people. We don't front in front of each other.  Striders stick together," you give him a bullshit explanation and hope he buys it. Otherwise, you're not sure how to explain your abrupt change in behavior. "You good with that?" You ask, making sure it's actually a question.

"I'm good," Dave says, though he looks confused. This is probably the most he's ever heard his "Bro" speak, and you are being pretty vague.

You turn, crouch, and open your arms. "First things first: hugs. Bros hug any time they feel like, but they get a special one on their birthday. It's tradition." Or it will be, anyway. Humans need physical affection and kids even more so. You, for your part, fucking love hugs. You're not about to let your kid (Oh fuck, he's your kid!!!) be deprived of such a pivotal human experience any longer.

Dave looks surprised, and he takes his sweet time walking over and getting up in your space, pausing every now and then like he's waiting for you to change your mind - or more likely, say it was a "test" and that Dave had failed or something. But you maintain your position, and your intent expression lets him know you are dead serious about this.

[tactiletelekonesis]

gonna just ramble my thoughts for a bit

i was talking about how ive been asked to be evaluated for bpd in the past and got told by the doctor that i “dont want that stigma” and shut down before i could decide for myself if its worth it, and the person i was telling this to said they think i dont have it and like.

im kind of mad.

because im still getting to know this person and the more i think on it the more i know i at least have things that mimic the symptoms

and being told “i can tell you dont have it” feels like its diminishing the fact that i worry i do

and dont get me wrong i know the symptoms can be caused by other things but i would still like to know

and like the reason im thinking this is just… dirk strider from homestuck. ive been seeing people say hes textbook DID and i GET IT, i do, but i also really see bpd in him more. and i also see myself in him, though i dont have DID

i see his splinters and lil hal specifically as like. i can see how hal would be an alter, but lets not focus on that. hal is the epitome of a version of dirks self that he gets aggravated with, probably even hates because it reminds him of who he used to be, and to some extent whi he currently is.

if you look at the symptoms of bpd on mayo clinic, i could argue for all of them in dirk - and myself

and like. ive fucked up so many relationships because a flip switches in my head and im convinced they hate me or dont care, and people dont see that BECAUSE I FUCKING HIDE IT

I HID MY AUTISM FROM MYSELF AND OTHERS FOR 19 YEARS. MY PSYCHOSIS FOR 27. whos to say i havent been hiding bpd from people?

i already have dependent personality disorder but if you have one personality disorder youre more likely to have more

the reason people dont believe my struggles is i mask automatically and suffer inside because i dont know how to talk about how im suffering or even explain whats a mask and whats not

i keep going back to the time i was told “youre incapable of being mean” and the visceral reaction of wrongness i felt because i shut myself down so fucking much because the idea of upsetting others is so goddamn terrifying yet until i was 19 i would purposely make lists in my head of actual ways to ruin my friendships of i wanted to. like i would make full lists. just cataloguing all their insecurities so i could weaponize them. i never did because when i admitted to doing this when i felt safe i was told that was a dick move. and theyre right but it still fucking hurt because i dont do it on purpose. i dont.

im currently losing two of my best friends because my brain wont let me fucking talk to them because im simultaneously afraid theyre mad, and mad at them myself, and im sabotaging myself by not talking to them at all

i literally swing from thinking im worthless to thinking im a literal celestial being. i dissociate all the god damn time. im so fucking angry every second of my life

i would go into more detail about other symptoms but im making myself sad.

i dont care about the stigma i want validation for these symptoms and acknowledgement that i am extremely mentally ill at times and i just

i know they meant well but being told im not bpd by a newer friend who im still opening up to is frustrating. youre not my doctor, youre not me. how would you know? my doctor doesnt even know all my experiences because i dont know how to talk about them

im not sure if its the 4am talking or the stress from the roommate situation but like im thinking about bpd again. i think its worth looking into

anyway i cant believe im turning into a dirk kinnie but im not complaining