#and then it started to feel like something else i had written

[aboutcustardcreams]

Wake up call

pt. 1

a/n: I'm not going to follow the series episode by episode, as I already mentioned. This story will focus primarily on the three witches' story, so I'll probably jump forward and back in time at my own discretion from now on. If you're curious about something in particular, feel free to tell me in the comments. Would you prefer that I go back or forward from now on? (also, sorry for eventual typos or mistakes).

pt. 2

Agatha looked as surprised as you for a moment. The boy was on his knees, squirming uncomfortably at the rope around his wrists and ankles. He said something, his voice sounded muffled through the duct tape.

“Oh, uhm.. well, I may have accidentally kidnapped him.” 

You blinked in disbelief, “How can you accidentally kidnap someone?”

The kid muttered something else you couldn’t quite comprehend. You thought it was his way to agree with you, so you grinned, whereas Agatha groaned in annoyance. As the boy persisted, you realized what he really wanted from you. 

“Oh–”, you mouthed a quick apology, lips stretching in an awkward smile as you took the tape off his mouth with a quick puck. He winced, but then muttered a ‘thanks’ to you. Had he been locked in there the whole night? Instead of that, you asked a different question, “you alright?”, twirling your finger, you made him turn around to untie the rope around his wrists and ankles. 

He sighed and gave you a grateful smile once free, “much better.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, not really sure about what else was to say, despite having tons of questions. There couldn’t be a moment worse than this to have to deal with a kid. 

“Agatha, love, care to explain?” 

Your lover paid no attention, or rather she feigned to be distracted doing practically nothing more than walking up and down the house, as she mentally freaked out due to the last events. 

“There’s nothing to explain–”, she waved dismissively, “For all I care he can keep the house.” 

The boy frowned and quite frankly so did you. You walked up to her, confusion written all over your features, “Agatha, what in heaven are you talking about?” 

The boy followed behind in silence.

When she suddenly spun around, Agatha was so close, you almost stumbled backwards. “Did you listen to Rio’s words or not?” There was a hint of frustration in her tone, quite relatable in fact, and yet...

Your head lolled to the side, “so your plan is to leave?”

“Glad you’re catching up," she grinned cheekily. 

With no magic at her disposal, she had no intention of facing the Salem Seven, and even less letting you anywhere near them to save her life. So running was the best and only option she could think of at the moment; that hopefully would give her enough time to figure out a way to restore her magic and be a witch again.

You ran a hand through your hair, eyes glancing only briefly over the boy, who gave you a tight smile in return. A part of you wondered what he was doing still there. Didn't he have places to be, like school or whatever? 

Before Agatha could walk from you again, you reached out to grab her wrist, “So, this is what we will do,” you started, silently enjoying the whiny sound slipping from her lips, “we sit down, talk it out like mature adults, and you–” pointing a finger at the boy, “you’re gonna tell me why you broke into our house in the first place.”

“Uhm.. yeah, I..”

“We don’t have time for this!” Agatha exclaimed, “Need I remind you there’s a price on our heads?” 

A playful smirk tugged at your lips and unable to resist teasing her, you quipped, “technically it’s on yours. I only happen to be in your shit as per usual.” 

The boy let out a quiet chuckle, that you were about to reciprocate hadn't it been for Agatha’s hand flapping at the nape of your neck, “Oof!" you whined. 

Amusement glimmered in her eyes, “You had it coming,” she retorted. Then she glanced over the boy, with a grimace. “Not to be rude or anything, but we’ve got a lot on our plate so if you could just–” She pointed to where the front door used to be, her confidence dimming slightly, “this house is a complete disaster.”

She looked so annoyed right now, tired and scared even, but the latter she would never admit. Completely forgetting about the boy, you focused on Agatha and placed a hand over the small of her back, “it’s not so bad…” you trailed off, resting your chin on her shoulder. She knew you weren't only referring to the conditions of the house. Her eyes fell shut for a moment, her features relaxed when you started stroking her skin, lips barely brushing against a soft spot behind her ear, “we have an excuse to redecorate now.”

Despite everything, Agatha let out a small chuckle. She turned around and draped an arm around your waist. With everything that happened in such a short time, she hadn’t given herself a moment to truly cherish the fact that you were back—the real you. Sure, even without your memories, you stood by Agatha’s side all those years, but having you here now, like in the old days, felt different. It was different. Her eyes darted from your face to your collarbone, nose scrunching up at the sight of the nasty bluish bruise— a reminder of Rio’s hands on you. Her hand glided up to your face, tracing your jawline before slowly moving down to your collarbone, fingers barely grazing your skin, mindful that it was still tender and possibly sore. 

“Are you–?” 

Your eyes softened at the hesitation in her voice, “you shouldn’t worry about that.”

“I always worry about what matters," she argued back. 

"Sappy," you teased.

With an eye roll, she smirked, "brat."

When her eyes darted towards the boy once again, she let out an incredulous scoff, “you better have a darn good reason to still be dangling here.” 

Color drained from his face. Quite frankly, Agatha could be intimidating when she tried. Even when she didn't. “I-I do!” He cleared his throat. “I want to walk the Witches' Road. It’s the only reason why I broke in here really and–” he was talking so fast, for a moment you thought your mind had tricked you. There was no way he said the words ‘witches’ and ‘road’ in the same sentence. 

Agatha's eyes snapped wide open, “what’s that you say?”

“The Witches’ Road,” he repeated, slower and firmly. It hit you hard. You couldn't help it. “I want you to take me there,” his eyes softened and so did his voice as he added, “please.”

Agatha tried to meet your eyes then, but you had your gaze dropped to the floor. 

“The Witches’ Road doesn’t exist.”

“You’re lying,” he argued. 

Agatha scoffed bitterly, “am I?”, voice rising in exasperation. 

When you slowly lifted your chin towards the boy, you squint your eyes so much as if you were troubled by a sudden headache, “You’re asking for a death wish here.” 

Agatha agreed, “quite literally.” 

The boy looked crestfallen, but he didn’t back down, “You only say that because you think I’m inexperienced, which is fair. I am. But I can make it to the end-” 

Your lips pursed in a grimace as you tried to make sense of everything that was happening. First Rio, then the Salem Seven on your heels, and now this boy who had no idea what he was asking for.

“Look, I love your confidence– but the Road is no place for a kid.”

Agatha sank into the couch in the lounge, curling a finger at you in invitation. Smiling, you obliged, perching yourself on the armrest beside her. You were close enough that her hand could slip to rest on your thigh, her fingers tracing soft, lazy patterns over the fabric of your pants. The gentle rhythm of her touch soothed you, and you allowed yourself to calm your nerves, focusing on her proximity and nothing else. 

“I’m sixteen,” he objected, taking a seat onto the chair across from you. 

“Oh, why didn’t you say that before? That changes… nothing.”

You had to stifle a laugh at her sarcastic remark. 

He gave a dramatic eye roll. “Come on! You walked it before and survived!” 

Your brows knit in a frown. Just how much did that boy actually understand about you and Agatha? Or rather, how much did he think he understood? No one truly knew what it had been like for the two of you back in the eighteenth century. People clung to their own assumptions, and you let them—after all, the real truth was far too painful to share. Not a single soul knew the true story behind the reputation Agatha had built, nor the reasons why so many had to die in the first place. 

Agatha’s hand stilled on your thigh, “I had a very good reason to stay alive, plus I’m exceptional.”

It wasn’t a lie, not completely at least. 

The boy’s eyes shifted from Agatha’s to yours. You felt as if he knew what Agatha was talking about you. You saw something, a glimpse of understanding in those eyes that somehow unsettled you. If Agatha was known as ‘witch killer’ for all the wrong reasons, your reputation also preceded you, but you struggled to say the words. 

“I read an egregious amount about you two. I’ve been obsessed since I first came up with your Salem days… the way you two met, and oh my God- don’t get me started on your magic skills.”

So you and Agatha had a little fan. 

Agatha’s interest rose considerably. She grinned, “cute. Isn't he a cute pet?” 

“Honestly, I’m not sure whether to be flattered or freaked out by all this interest,” you mused.

The boy completely ignored the fact that Agatha just called him pet. “Sorry, I just– you’re a necromancer witch!” He was now struggling to keep a posed tone of voice, and you found yourself scratching the back of your head, not really used to being praised by your gift/curse. Quite the opposite in fact. “Guilty as charged,” you quipped.

Agatha’s hand moved towards your knee, thumb brushing in a soothing circle there. You smiled inwardly at the gesture.

“Books say witches your kind is so rare, powerful and–”

“harrowed, banished, burned at the stake?” You cut him off in a sing-song tone. 

Agatha snorted, “you name it.”

She knew better than anyone what it felt like to be brushed aside. It was one of the reasons why she could bond with you so easily and so quickly. You understood her before she could even attempt to comprehend the complexity about herself and her power. 

Teen blinked confusedly, “I was gonna say interesting.”

You clasped your hands together and took a deep breath. “Look, we appreciate your enthusiasm. You seem like a really smart boy, and I’m sure you’re destined for great things, but we can’t help you, not with that-” 

“But I saved Agatha from the spell…” his smile turned into a frown and his features dimmed  as a consequence, “I’d have come to you too if she hadn’t locked me up in the closet. But w-wait,” he suddenly came to a halt, eyebrows knitting in a frown as a new question popped up in his mind. “How did you wake up from the hex?”

Agatha knew, but said nothing, leaving the explanations to you.

“It’s hard to explain–” Being a necromancer allowed you to have all sorts of… vibes. Plus your soul was connected to Agatha’s and her life being threatened by something– or rather someone you knew quite well worked as a wake up bell for you, “it’s like a sixth sense, but better. I can always feel when Agatha needs me. I got a pull into reality the moment Rio broke into the house with the purpose of harming her. I felt her aura. She and I– let’s just say our magic works like opposite poles of a magnet.”

Agatha’s features hardened a bit, as she nibbled on the inside of her cheek out of nervousness. Your magic being complementary to Rio’s had caused you more problems than anything else. She almost lost you to her, and that’s something she would probably never forget. 

The boy hummed in thought. He was clearly intrigued by your magic and took a mental note to ask you more questions at the first next opportunity, considering he left his notebook in the car.

“And who’s Rio? I didn’t hear much but– there seemed to be a history–”

“Trouble.”

“A bitch.”

Both you and Agatha said in unison. 

“We don’t really need to talk about her now…” you kept vague, hoping he would catch the silent message passing through your eyes. Talking about her was never easy, not when your feelings for her were so tangled and conflicting. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love her anymore, cause you still did. And Agatha... well, she probably did too, however, she would never admit it, not to you and even less to herself. The past clung like a shadow, and neither of you could ever truly forget. The ache of Rio's choices lingered, buried deep, a silent reminder of what your bond once was and could never be again. 

He pressed his lips together and gave you a slow nod of his head in return. 

“I’m curious,” she smacked her lips, your head turned towards her, as she continued, “If you’ve got the goods to break a spell cast by the Scarlet Witch, why do you need the Road?”

Your eyes widened in shock. Was she really considering this?

“The Road promises that what you’re looking for awaits at its end. I need to walk the road so I can figure out the extent of my power..” he explained and she hummed, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Don’t you need power yourself?”

Agatha’s back stiffened, “I most certainly do, yes.”

“She doesn’t need to walk the Witches' Road for that,” you pointed out, glancing at the purple witch with the corner of your eyes. 

The boy was confused. Without giving him too much information, you simply told him that you could share your magic. And, in a way, it was true. A more accurate version would have been explaining that Agatha could kill a witch by absorbing all her power, leaving nothing behind but dust. But that was far too dramatic, plus you were still one hundred percent sure she couldn’t and wouldn’t harm you in any way.

She let out a long, exhausted sigh at your insistence, “For the umpteenth time, I’m not taking your magic–” 

“Ugh!" You groaned. "Aggs, Rio warned us–”

“She mentioned the Salem Seven, didn’t she?” The boy cut you off. “I’m sorry but y-you’ve got zero chances against them without magic, Agatha.” 

She shot him an icy glare, “Thank you for stating the obvious.”

Your lips trembled a bit, as you struggled to hold back an amused grin.

“I’m just trying to understand which alternatives you have,” he muttered defensively. 

Agatha opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Nothing that she could use to hush both you and the kid. 

“He’s got a point, you know. You need my magic, like right now.” 

Once again, she ignored you. “Or maybe, we need to walk the Witches' Road one last time.”

The boy’s mouth parted ajar, “Really?”

“Really?” You echoed in a squeak. 

She simply nodded her head, giving you an innocent smile that only fueled your incredulity. You let out a quiet, bitter chuckle right after, at the same time shaking your head in disbelief. 

“Agatha, sweetheart, a word?” 

You held out your hand for her to take, and just like she did a moment ago, you forced a serene, tranquil smile—one that didn’t quite reach your eyes but would have fooled anyone who didn’t know you better. She took your hand, her fingers curling around yours as she let you lead her toward the kitchen. Once you were far enough from the boy to speak more privately, you locked eyes with Agatha. Your face was practically shouting, ‘What the hell?!’ —a silent message that she heard loud and clear, without a single word spoken.

“The Road doesn’t exist! What’s your plan?” 

“We are the only ones aware of that,” she stated matter of factly as if that could be used as a great advantage. “Teen is right, without my magic, I can’t defend myself against the Salem Seven, I can’t protect myself or you.” 

If this wasn’t handled carefully, it could spiral into something much worse. You knew, better than anyone, how deeply it hurt Agatha to feel powerless, especially when it came to protecting those she loved. She had faced this agony with Nicky, and now, here she was again, reliving the same fear, this time, for you. Her own life, in that moment, felt like nothing compared to yours. Because without you in it, there was no existence worth living for her. 

“You could,” you insisted, in a low, almost pleading tone. “if only you took my power–” It was so easy.

“I’m not willing to take any risks with you,” she stepped into your bubble, her hands tightening around your shoulders, in a possessive and yet still attentive way. She wanted you to understand. She needed you to be on her side on this. “I need to make sure I've got control over my thirst first. It's been so long since the last time I did that so I'm sorry but you’ll not be the lab rat for it.”

“Are you really thinking of using the boy?” 

Agatha’s mouth dropped open, “Oh no, my God- no! I’m not talking about Teen, you idiot!” 

You crossed your arms over your chest and gave her a defiant look.

She gave in after a bunch of seconds, “Okay, maybe I did think of him for a minute. He did break the Scarlet Witch’s hex, though." 

You pinched the bridge of your nose at that.

“But we still need to ‘walk’ the Witches Road, except that this time, we aren’t killing anyone,” you’re ready to argue back again, but she didn’t let you, so you bit your bottom lip instead, trying really trying to find the silver lining at the end of this plan. “Here’s what we will do: we gather a coven, make some female friends, sing the Ballad, it doesn’t work, wowie-!, I call them names, they get angry and blast me. I take their magic and stop right before they turn into dust.”

She paused and took into your eyes, letting you assimilate her words, hopeful you’d find her idea good enough, because there was really no time for anything else. 

“So, to recap—,” you cleared your throat, “you’re willing to lie to that kid, to the poor witches we’ll meet along the way, witches who’ll eventually turn against us once they learn our intentions, but you’re not willing to take my magic that’s literally within arm’s length because you’re scared you’ll kill me.” 

She hummed, feeling quite satisfied with your summary, “yep.”

A slow smirk spread across your lips, “You’re crazy.”

“Maybe," she conceded. "But this plan’s gonna work.” Agatha shifted closer, her hands sliding to your hips, her fingers pressing into your skin with a slight possessive touch. 

Your gaze fell to where her hands rested and for a moment, there was silence. 

Time ticked. She waited. 

“Fine. Oh my God- fine–” 

Before you could say anything else, she pulled you into a crashing hug. Your pout quickly turned into an amused smile, and finally into a fit of giggles when her lips began peppering kisses all over your face. 

“Atta girl!” She said with a proud grin, to which you responded with a snort. 

You’d be pissed, though, if by the end of the day, you’d be forced to resurrect a bunch of witches. But you kept quiet about that.

[sakashq]

Too Late. 𐙚 kenan yildiz x fem!oc

🪬 summary. In which Isabel has never experienced love and doesn’t know what to expect of it. Once she’s shown it, she doesn’t know what to do.

🪬 face claim. this story is based on a work i had published on wattpad but have since unpublished. qlorify IS me guys i’m not stealing💔. she was a black woman in the book so i still fully see her as one here, but imagine isa as you please.

🪬 yap! I hate my ex. but i also miss him. so this is my current feelings for him written as someone else for someone else🤗. to my favorite divas who unfortunately have to go through this weird ass break up with me! @ar4ujos @hrts4havertz @planetpedri @halfwayhearted 🩵

Isabel was not one to love. She just wanted to feel loved. She hadn’t yet met someone that was worthy of her love, past situations failing on the guy’s end. Love was such a strange concept for Isabel, the girl never being shot by one of Cupid’s arrows. Sometimes she felt like she wasn’t worthy of an arrow, watching everyone around her except her fall in love with their forever.

It wasn’t like there was something wrong with Isabel. She was beautiful—talented, too. Would do anything to make someone feel the way she wanted to feel, even if love was too strong and too terrifying for her.

She considered it ‘like-like’, more than liking someone, but not as much as loving them. Loving someone felt too scary, as she knew if she grew attached she wouldn’t be able to let go. And Isa wasn’t one to take no for an answer.

That’s why she couldn’t love. She’d get too attached and lose herself in that person. Who knows, if they were really worthy of her love, she’d destroy herself for them. It was like a lose/lose situation; if Isa loved, she’d lose herself. If she didn’t, she’d lose that person.

Well, this was all before him.

Someway somehow, Kenan had something different to him. He wasn’t like the other guys who wanted Isa. Personality wise, sure, but still. Something was off.

She didn’t know it at the time, but he was starting to develop feelings. They’d seen each other several times by this point, even going as far as texting everyday. He was doing what Isabel feared the most; falling in love.

He didn’t know it at the time, but Kenan was not falling in love with Isa. He fully thought he was, the idea of being with her being something he constantly thought about and highly considered. She was beautiful—talented, too. There was nothing he couldn’t like about her. Her flaws seemed like ghosts, being there but not seen. Maybe had he caught it he would’ve realized she was falling in love.

This scared Isa. She had never fallen in love with anyone. What made Kenan so different?

This scared Kenan. He had tried love a few times and desperately wanted it with Isabel, so why couldn’t he? There was something wrong with him, something so irrevocably wrong that he begun to hate himself for it.

He didn’t know it at the time, but he was scared of love with Isa.

She didn’t know it at the time, but she was scared of not loving Kenan.

He came to her door with flowers, as he had done once every week to convince himself that he really did love her. She answered as she always did, a bright smile on her face and her heart beating out of her chest.

“Hi,” she continued to smile, her stomach feeling like it was trying to crawl it’s way up to her heart.

“Hi,” he repeated back to her, a smile on his face. Why couldn’t he love her as she did him?

“Come in.”

He did as she said, putting the bouquet in their designated vase. “What’d you do today?” He inquired, hoping that conversation would plant a seed in him that would blossom into love for the girl.

“Nothing much. You?” She responded, sitting down at her counter. He sat next to her, their chairs facing each other.

“Bought your flowers.” They both chuckled. One with love, the other with anxiety.

“They’re beautiful, per usual. Thank you, Kenan.” She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He was so handome, she didn’t know if she could stop loving him.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was so pretty, why couldn’t he love her?

They hung out for a while, soon moving to the couch. He had his arm around her, she had her head on his shoulder.

“Kenan,” she spoke softly.

“Hmm?” He replied, taking his eyes off the movie in front of him and looking at her.

Her eyes met his and she melted into him. “I’m scared.”

“Why?” His voice was filled with genuine concern. Why didn’t see feel safe with him? Was this his fault? What did he do wrong?

“I… I’ve never loved someone the way I love you. And it scares me.”

He tensed up and froze. What? She loved him? No, no, no, this couldn’t be. She couldn’t love him. He couldn’t even love her! How could someone afraid of love make an exception for someone who didn’t feel the same?

“I’m sorry, that was way too forward,” Isabel frowned, moving out of his arms. “I didn’t mean…”

“Hey,” he held onto her, using his hand to guide her head to look at him. “It’s okay. I feel the same way.” That was a lie. He didn’t even know what he wanted.

Her face lit up, her brown eyes shining brightly against the TV glow. “Really?”

He smiled at her seeing her excitement, wishing he could share it with her. “Of course.” He kissed her gently, their soft lips connecting. This wasn’t the first time they’d done this.

“What does this mean now?” Isa asked after a few moments.

“What?” He knew what she was asking. He just didn’t know what to say.

“I mean… you love me, I love you. What’s that mean for us?” She questioned.

He had to ask her the question now, if he didn’t he’d seem like an asshole. He already told her that he’s in love with her, might as well right? “We… Can I be your boyfriend?”

It was already set in motion; it was too late. Kenan was now stuck.

[honourablejester]

Is this, the anxiety about working women, a common interpretation? I’d never heard it before.

Not an interpretation I’d have come to myself, either. The femme fatales that I think of first aren’t usually working girls, they’re things like wealthy wives wanting to bump off their husbands (Phyllis Dietrichson from Double Indemnity), wealthy heiresses trying to cover up their (/family’s) crimes (Vivian Rutledge, The Big Sleep), itinerant conwomen (Vera, Detour), or ex gun-molls who shot their shady boyfriends and will do anything (and seduce anyone) to make it out alive and with the cash (Kathy Moffet, Out of the Past).

The femme fatale is more … the woman who pretends to love you (or even genuinely does love you) but whose priority is something else, often money, and she’ll use you until she gets it and then go through you for a shortcut afterwards. They’re usually not working girls, they’re bored and murderous wives, alluring crooks, or desperate blackmailers. They’re either rich already, seeking more control over their money, or desperately seeking financial stability via crime. The fear to me feels more like being used and discarded by a woman who wants something else more than you, at least in some of the cases?

Also, a lot of the classic 40s noir movies were based on books that were written much earlier, in the 30s, which would pre-date the post-war economic anxieties (although fit right in for the Depression-era economic anxieties, and the ‘woman willing to kill for money’ might well fit there). Though, granted, a lot of those stories were altered in the book-to-screen transition, and the adaptations likely did reflect more contemporary anxieties.

There was also some real life inspiration for some of the famous femmes fatale. Both Phyllis Dietrichson of Double Indemnity and Cora from The Postman Always Rings Twice, both by James M. Cain, might have been at least partly inspired by Ruth Snyder, a woman who in 1927 murdered her husband with her lover in the hopes of cashing out the insurance policy they’d ‘signed’ in his name.

There’s a lot going on with noir as a genre, it’s a whole melting pot for a bunch of early 20th century anxieties. The class changes coming out of the Belle Epoque, the interwar period, prohibition and rampant crime in the 20s, the massive economic turmoil of the stock market crash and the Great Depression in the 30s, and then, yes, the social changes during and following WWII in the 40s, with so many disaffected returning soldiers, rampant crime, and the skyrocketing rates of divorce that resulted from hasty wartime marriages. Noir as a genre was an attempt to ground Hollywood glamour in some of the darker realities of those very turbulent few decades, and while the femme fatale has certain common traits, she also has a lot of variety, reflecting more than one anxiety of the time. She’s just … the woman who’s just as hard and bleak and dangerous as the men, except men (in Hollywood movies in the 40s) didn’t usually fall in love with other men, but they could (and shouldn’t, and did) fall in love with the femme fatale. She was more a reflection of the general fear that the romance and safety of marriage that society had promised men at this time was no more real than the financial or physical safeties they’d been promised either.

Which, yes, women in the workforce is part of that disintegration of promised safeties, so I can see it as an element, an aspect of the fear. But I wouldn’t have said it was the driving one, just one more facet of the perceived social degradation embodied in the noir genre. Textually, a lot of the classic femmes fatale weren’t even in spitting distance of a factory job. For a start, it’s not exactly glamourous. And for a second, that’s a long, slow way to get what you want, when you can just murder or betray someone for money instead. Or string some poor lovesick sucker along as a patsy for your crimes, or as an escape hatch for your schemes.

Basically, I don't think the fear was of being supplanted, or at least not in all cases, it was more a fear of being used. Controlled. Betrayed. Murdered. The femme fatale wasn't the woman who replaced you, she was the woman who lured you, seduced you, lied to you, hurt you, controlled you, incited you to do things you wouldn't normally do. Instead of being the safe harbour, the soft, righteous reward promised to the hero, she hurt you instead. Used you. Love is a lie, marriage is a lie, and murder might well be the result.

My film noir hot take that I’ve been mulling over for a while is that I really don’t think the femme fatale in noir was an expression of anxiety about women working in the aftermath of WWII. Evil seductresses are present in literature since before the printing press, and in pulp crime fiction since at least the 1920s! And when did you ever see a femme fatale working as a mechanic or on an industrial assembly line? I’m not saying the archetype doesn’t pull from contemporary sexism, but Rosie the Riveter didn’t invent the idea of sexy mean ladies, especially in gritty melodrama.

[f1writingbyme]

Hi everyone,

This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever written, and I never thought I’d be sharing something so deeply personal. But here I am, reaching out, hoping that someone else out there might understand this journey, this longing, this ache that I’m carrying. I don’t have a big following, so I don’t know if this will reach many people, but if there’s a chance it connects with even one person who’s been through something similar, it’ll be worth it.

My boyfriend and I have been trying to start a family. For over two years, we tried before finally going to our GP, who sent us straight to a clinic. It’s been a year of treatments now, a year of hopeful highs and crushing lows. We tried IUI (intrauterine insemination) four times – four times our hopes rose and fell. Then we turned to ICSI (intracytoplasmic Sperm Injection) because “traditional” IVF wasn’t an option for us.

When I had my egg retrieval, they collected a lot of eggs, but only four turned into embryos. Four. Just four chances to hold onto this dream.

Today, we found out that none of those embryos made it. We’re back to square one. All those hormone shots, every bruise, every drop of blood, every ultrasound, all the mood swings, the endless hoping and praying – only to have to start from scratch. I can’t describe the exhaustion, both physically and emotionally. You go through the medications, the appointments, waiting, and waiting, just to start all over again. It feels like it’s breaking me.

We’re going to try again because we still hold onto this hope of having a baby together. But we also have to face the reality that it may never happen, and that thought shatters my heart. Watching others around me get pregnant, hearing news of new babies… it’s so hard to see, and it fills me with a mix of sadness and anger that I can’t even fully explain. I don’t want to feel this way, but it’s the truth.

I feel so alone in this. None of my close friends or family have faced something like this. I’m reaching out here, hoping to find someone who understands, someone who has been through this kind of pain and hope and heartbreak. I feel like I could just disappear, like the ground could open up and take me in, but here I am, holding onto a sliver of hope that one day, somehow, I’ll get to hold a little miracle in my arms. Until then, I’m trying my best to be patient, even when it feels like it’s breaking me.

I want to thank @lestappenforever, my best friend in the entire world, for being my rock through all of this, even from miles away. You never push, you never overwhelm me with questions — you’re just there, right when I need you. That kind of support means more to me than I can put into words. I love you. ❤️❤️❤️

I don’t know if anyone going through the same thing will see this, but if you do, please reach out. I’m here to talk, to listen, to be there for you, but also to share my story.

You’re not alone in this. Please hold onto that. ❤️

I'm going to be a lot less active on here. I'm sorry for that (if anyone cares) but I need some time to myself. Mona and I will be back on the 1st of December with something fucking amazing which I hope you all love ❤️ I want to thank you all for your support and I love you all.

[mikichko]

Ghoap/bluetooth anon. The reader has a list of names she wants for her future kids and number 1 for a boy was Zachary and the reader added a note next to it that basically says “I got my perfect Zachary already” or something like that and the boys find it and are trying to fight back both their horny knee jerk reactions to the reader with more kids and their tears because she really was meant to come into their family from the start, huh?

hi cariño!! this has been sitting in my inbox and got drowned by everything else!

i'm writing this with a focus on johnny cause I can't hone in on simon's pov at the moment. now dont glare at me too much since i haven't written in a while but here i go...

Fatum part of chao mi niño cw: female reader, suggestive language (nothing explicit), all lowercase

johnny finds the list on accident.

he's rifling through the papers on your desk in search of the nursery details when he finds something else.

the sheet's color captures his attention at first. it's white, but dulled in comparison to the other papers on the desk. his fingertips graze the sheet, the material smooth and sturdy under his skin. your strokes affirm the feeling, carbon staining the sheet without a stray line. fluid and cohesive throughout the paper, safeguarding your words.

his eyes trace the words and he suddenly understands why you'd been meticulous in choosing your materials.

it's your list of baby names.

the names are printed neatly on blank campus paper. everything is written in pencil, no trace of pen ink. each name is accompanied with it's meaning and small drawings that you've brightly colored.

there are creases across the sheet from where it's been folded. and if johnny stares at it long enough he can start to gather what you've folded it into countless times.

he can't help but wonder how often you'd unfolded the paper. had you known all these names would be yours from the beginning? did you start with only one and build your way up? how long had you been ruminating over the idea of your own babe?

johnny tries to move past that last thought but a warmth spreads across his lower belly. he thinks of you, alone in your own flat, the list held in your hands as you wonder when you'll have the chance to use a name.

his hand grips the edge of the desk as he breaths deeply, trying to calm the sudden urge that arises in him. to have you on your back, give you a child for each of the names on your list. make this goal of yours a reality.

he closes his eyes, breathing deeply to settle himself, before he opens them again.

this time he catches something new. lead ink, more saturated and darker than the rest, right next to the first name on the list.

Zachariah - God remembers got my zachy. he'll always be reminded he's loved

johnny's breath stills. his chest tightens and he swallows.

he remembers the nights he'd spent in the desert. skin chafed by sweat and aggravated by the sand. staring up at a sky that Glasgow hadn't let him see. eyes tracing the stars that had watched so many before him. he'd asked the stars then what the hell he was doing. asked them for guidance in his life because he had no idea what he was marching towards.

at the time he'd thought it was certain death.

but now here, in this house, with this list, and an empty nursery underway he understands.

he'd been making his way to you. to simon. to zach. to the family that had been waiting for him.

[ladylokianna]

Some quiet moments

Partially based on my own prompt here and written after this post i casually read today. Hope you enjoy a fluffier and softer Aemond (though i love smut Aemond, i'm totally uncapable of writing something smut).

Warnings: no warnings, just pure fluff.

Pairing: i don't like to write Y/N, so is an Aemond x reader (a nameless wife)

English is not my first language and i am constantly trying to improve, so i apologise for any mistakes.

Also not so good to give a good title, sorry XD

***

You are so busy braiding the flowers the girls brought to you now and then that you did not notice Aemond until the very last moment, when you feel him placing something warm on you –his coat, you noticed shortly afterwards– and his hands carefully place it on your shoulders, lifting the collar to protect your neck, taking care not to crease the flower garland that Jaehaera or one of your daughters had carefully arranged on your hair, loosely braided.

"I knew i'd find you here." Aemond greets you in his usual calm voice, sitting by your side. "You might catch cold, love, summer is still far away."

"Hi darling. I was starting to get a bit chilly, actually, but when the girls and i went out, the sun was still bright and i didn't think about wearing something warmer." you answer with a big smile, interrupting what you were doing to take and hold his hand. "And what about you? I can see you're tired."

He told you about his day, spent travelling around the realm between meetings and state matters.

"Then you should reach the Council, they must be waiting for you." you reason.

"They can wait." he reply, encircling your shoulders with his arm and holding you close to him. In your lap, under the flowers you are weaving, Aemond noticed one of his books. "How was your day?"

"It was less interesting than yours, i'm afraid. As always i tried with little success to read something in valyrian, i had lunch with Alicent and spent some time embroidering with Helaena and... just an hour ago, i was crowned queen of the garden." you say cheerfully. You then point to the blue flowers you carry in the lap. "However, i advise you to be careful, because the girls are looking for your favourite flowers with all the intentions of crowning you too."

"That's a risk i'm willing to take, if i can have you alone for a few minutes without having to share you with someone else." he chuckles, surrounding you in a tight hug and leaving many small kisses on your temple.

Feeling him so relaxed and calm during the day is a rare thing, accustomed as he is to always being on guard, always on the alert, ready to detect the slightest sign of danger to react accordingly. Suddenly you both heard the girls' laughter grow closer, a sign that they are returning from their search.

"...i was thinking that i would love to have another baby."

"You want to fill the Red Keep with children?" you ask, amused.

"Why not? After all, our son and i are blatantly outnumbered, and if we are not careful enough, we will certainly end up being overwhelmed by you girls."

You rub his leg affectionately, leaning the head back to get a better look at him.

"I will think about it." you reply. "But who knows, if tonight and... let's say maybe those to come, you would decide to read me something in valyrian, i might... you know... think better about it."

"Wait... is all what it takes? Some reading in high valyrian?"

"Maybe."

"Good enough for me, we have a deal."

You giggle, before he kiss you tenderly.

"I said maybe, Aem."

"You cannot recant now, a deal is a deal."

Jaehaera and her three little cousins, their arms laden with flowers, stood at some distance from the bench giggling between themselves at seeing you two embracing, until your middle daughter run towards you, eager to give her dad something she had picked up in the gardens.

"Can i bring it to Vhagar?" she asked, showing to Aemond a huge yellow flower.

"Vhagar is resting now, my love. We will bring it to her tomorrow. Keep it safe, will you?" promise Aemond. He look up, smiling lovingly at the other two daughters and Jaehaera as well. "Hello, my loves."

The youngest search her father's attention by placing both of her little hands on his face, trying to greet him in valyrian and giggling when Aemond, with a cheeky grin, pretend to nibble on her fingers.

"This one is for you instead." Jaehaera smiles at her uncle, taking the garland you had finished weaving.

She ask him to lean against the back of the bench, but Aemond, with a theatrical gesture, knelt before her, bowing the head as if during a real coronation, before she puts the garland on his head and untying the string that keep his hair neatly tied back, then began braiding it and showing your younger daughter how to do it properly.

If Criston Cole, sent by Aegon to find Aemond, is astonished to faced with that scene, he did not show it, but he take a few long moments to call him, perhaps undecided whether to interrupt that idyll or not.

"I really have to go now." sighs Aemond in a very low voice. "See you later."

[frodopotter7]

The memories of Edwin Payne

(Or an interactive fanfiction)

Note: I had the headcanon that Edwin‘s notebook contains all his personal writing including the writings from his life as an Edwardian boy. So I wrote those entries in his notebook. Now this book is obviously all of Edwin‘s personal thoughts and I thought it would be fun to do a collaboration. So if you are a writer yourself or creative in any other way, feel free to use this entries as a starting point for another fanfiction. For example Charles finding the notebook and reading it or Crystal reading it or anything else. The only rule that I set is that you clearly mark my text and tag me, because first of all it was a lot of effort to write it and secondly I want to see what cool things you came up with. And if you don’t want to creatively interact with this fanfiction, then you can obviously just enjoy it by reading it.

Summary: Edwin Payne‘s most treasured item is his notebook, because it contains so much private information that no one else knows about him. Not even Charles. Including the struggles of a posh, gay, autistic Edwardian boy and his times before hell, in hell and shortly after hell.

Triggers: bullying, implied suicide, dolls

Shipping: Payneland, but you could also include other shipping in your part

The song that I thought of while writing:

One of Edwin’s most treasured objects was definitely his notebook. He had it all the time and he used it for every case they had. It meant a lot to him, since it was with him when he died. It was with him in hell and it was with him in his detective career. The reason why he never gave it to anyone, not even Charles, was that it had been with him even as a child. Well, back then he had several notebooks, but as he died every personal writing of his got transferred into it. The notebook always had enough pages and was still not getting thicker and his pen was always full of ink. And still even though it contained so many different notes, Edwin navigated through it without any problems. It was his own writing after all. His family sigil was carved into the black front cover and the word ‘Payne’ was written underneath it.

If anyone would open it and tried to start from the beginning, he would be greeted with Edwin’s signature under the printed words. ‘Family member:’ After that the handwriting would be harder to read. Scribbly, crossed out spelling mistakes and spilled ink from a little boy, who was writing for the first time. If you manage to identify the words it would read:

1905

Greetings,

my name is Edwin Payne. I am the only child of the family Payne. My father says, that mother wanted more children, but just failed every other time. You probably have heard about my family’s name. The family with the best lawyers of England. When I’m grown up, I will be a lawyer too. Lawyers are like detectives says my father. I like that. I like detectives.

My nanny told me to interact more with others. Why would I need to talk if there is no one to talk to anyways? My parents are often absent and my nanny is just not understanding me. My father says that I am too slow for my age. My motion skills too clumsy. My spoken words only contain information from detective books and I cannot properly respond to people yet. I know a lot of novels by heart though. Others just don’t seem to like talking about crimes as much as I do. Father sometimes lets me have a look in his older cases. They are interesting.

We visited a doctor again today, because of my slow development. We visit him quite often. Actually since I can remember. I don’t feel sick. He says there is nothing wrong with me. Still I know that something is wrong. I overreacted at loud noises. A lot of things stress me out.

1906

I haven’t writing about Cordelia Primrose Surname-von-Hovercraft. She is annoying, loud and a restless soul. She runs around the house and breaks rules just to get the attention. She is a bit younger than me, but that doesn’t justify her actions. I don’t like her. Although sometimes she be helpful. Like the time she stole the biscuit jar and gave me one of the special biscuits. They had to expel one of her nannies for this. But Cordelia had plenty nannies anyways. No one stays long with her. I had my nanny since I was born. I don’t like changes. Cordelia sometimes scares me with ghost stories. She says she would see them and that my fortune says that I will die a painful and early death. I don’t believe in this unscientific nonsense.

I take piano lessons now. It’s is fun. My mother seems to enjoy it. It is somehow the only way to get her attention for me.

Additionally to my regular private lessons I go to school now. Simon obviously needs to be in my class as well. I don’t like him. He bores me and he is too clingy. And sometimes he says mean things to me.

I had an outburst in class. Everything was just so loud and I was frustrated. The teacher hit my finger with the ruler and send me in the naughty corner. I don’t see why I get punished, when the other boys are clearly the distraction. Overall I am a good student. So it will probably not affect my grades.

My favorite subject is Latin and literature. I love books and translating old languages. It is like solving a code or a riddle. I don’t like maths, since it is all just numbers and no words.

1907

I had another outburst in class after Simon tried to touch me. He kept tapping my arm and I don’t like that. The teacher called a nurse, but I was too overwhelmed to respond to any of her questions to my health. I wanted to go home and I told her that again and again, but she didn’t understand. They called a priest. He said something in Latin. I think, it must have been biblical words. I tried to focus on translating them, but there was so much panic around me that I barely focused on anything. But I managed to calm myself after what felt like hours due to exhaustion.

My parents had a talk with the priest. He says that I am possessed by a demon. So now he straps me to a table and mumbled something in Latin again and again once a month or whatever I have an outburst. The robes around my wrist hurt. I am afraid. It is scary to know that there is something inside of me.

1908

I hate being possessed. Although I start to doubt that I have been in the first place. I did some research in the library and the real demonology books aren’t describing my symptoms. Even Cordelia, who usually always tells spooky stories, agrees with me. She said, if I was possessed she would have been the first one to know. She is a mystery to me.

1909

Today I saw a nice looking man across the street. I told my nanny that he looks like a basket full of oranges. My father uses that term a lot when he talks about young women, so I thought it is just a term to use if you think someone looks nice. She gasped and hit me lightly with the newspaper. It didn’t hurt but I didn’t understand what I was doing wrong. She told me that a man cannot say that to another man. I guess the saying is reserved for women then.

1910

I started to mask my uncomfortable feelings in public. It is difficult, but it helps. My parents and the priest both think that I am healed.

1911

I got called a Mary Ann for the first time. I asked my nanny and she started to mumble to herself how she must have failed. I told her that she did a really great job, since I would consider myself very well behaved and educated. She ignored me and told me to not tell my parents. How should I tell them if they are never there in the first place?

I did some research again, which mainly was asking Simon. I know, getting down on his level is a hard sacrifice. He told me that a Mary Ann is a boy who behaves like a girl and isn’t manly enough so they love other men. I thought about that for a long time. What is it about me that makes me a Mary Ann?

The writing in the book started to get better and appeared way more elegant. You could find little drawings here and there. Edwin was quite a good and realistic artist. Drawings of flowers, buildings, his nanny, his mother or Sherlock Holmes.

1912

Mother is constantly coughing loudly. It is irritating. Not even cocaine will help. They don’t let me in her room. They fear I would catch it too. Not that I was ever close to her before.

Mother is in a special hospital now. She took the train far away in a hospital in the mountains. No one ever returns from there. I know it. Everyone does. I will not see her again.

Mother died of tuberculosis. I miss her, I guess. I don’t know what I miss. It is a change. I hate changes.

1913

Father is sending me to a boarding school for boys. He says it’s for my education. I know, he just wants to get ride of me.

I hate the new school. Simon is here and people are still calling me a Mary Ann. Simon started to join them. I guess he sees it as a new opportunity to mock me.

I take fencing lessons now. It is nice, since it is not required any sort of touch with other boys. Nothing that I can be blamed for.

1914

I found a hideout in the school attic. It is a great place to read in peace.

The world has started a war. It worries me. They tell us that we are save in the school. But in the end all you can do is pray.

I came back home on Christmas. My nanny was gone. Father said they would be no need for her any longer, since I am in school now anyway. He looked like he knew something, but wasn’t going to tell me.

1915

The next page had some blood drops on its pages.

I want to go home. I want to be back in my room with my detective books. I want to be healed from this darkness inside of me. My nose is bleeding from another attack by the other boys. They started to get more violent now. Simon isn’t joining them, but he watches.

I came home on Christmas, but it wasn’t my home anymore. Just a house. My father didn’t speak a word. I asked him, if it was about the war and he looked up towards me. I could feel his cold gaze from across the table. He took out a letter and slammed it on the table. It was from my headteacher. I was confused. I am class best and the best behaved student in class? The only reason why I get to stand in the naughty corner is if I got caught reading in my comics or books. In my defense I am usually already finished with the exercises if I read in class. What could possibly be a problem with me? The letter was about the other boys calling me Mary Ann. And that they didn’t wanted a boy like that in their school. That I should stop whatever was wrong with me. My father told me in his absent voice, that he was not having a son like that either. He had exchanged letters with the headmaster for quite some time now and I didn’t seem to get better. I asked him that I had no idea. He interrupted me as always. Told me that the only way to make me a man would be to send me to war. I started to cry and he continued holding a speech about heroism and that his generation had understood this so much better than mine. I am too young for war, he knows that too. He told me that the only thing rescuing my life is my good grades. He sees potential in me as a lawyer. He has talked to the Surnames-von-Hovercrafts they agreed that I should marry their daughter as soon as possible. I mean I knew that I would be married to Cordelia one day, but not already when I turn 16. That’s only some months away.

As the train brought me back to the boarding school and as I saw my father standing in the doorway of the house with his usual expressionless face, I knew that this was the last time I would see him and that he wished to rather have no son than me. I just knew it.

1916

Simon stole my hat. I wouldn’t mention this minor form of his bullying, if it hadn’t been a special hat. My mother and I bought it, when her disease hadn’t been noticeable. It was too large back then, but it suits me now. Or rather suited. I don’t think I will see it again as Simon comes up with the best ways to either destroy or hide it. I cried about it. Childhood is over, but honestly I don’t think it ever started in the first place at least not for me.

The numbness is spreading inside my body. I think about the military and the forced marriage daily. I am too young for this. I cannot even properly cope in a classroom. How am I supposed to cope in the war? My hands are to soft. My brain is too precious. Please, spear me. They won’t. It is just a question of time.

I went to the lake today. It is spring and still fairly cold, but I went inside non the less. It was cold. Ice cold. I went under water and yelled out some poetic nonsense. I thought about staying under water. Turning into Ophelia. But I reminded myself, that this is something a coward would do. A Mary Ann. I would proof everyone’s suspicions as correct. Scared to live. Scared to die. I got out of the water. My gaze landed on my clothes and the letter. My father had written me that the marriage would be held in some days, since I am 16 now. I ripped the paper in half and tossed it into the ocean. Letting the water destroy the writing on the paper. Of course this would make nothing undone. I would still need to marry. I would still need to go into the military. I would still need to die. I am frightened. The other boys seem unbothered. They laugh and play like the world isn’t ending around us. Well, their world is probably not ending anyways. They will live. Their parents are rich after all. They have the privilege. I would have had this privilege as well, but they took it from me by putting this name on me. I took it from myself with my impure thoughts.

Cordelia sent me a telegram that just read that I would need to be careful as death was approaching me in the worst way. I hate her for that. As if I wouldn’t know that. As if I wouldn’t know that I needed to go into the army soon. Not a single word about our forced wedding. I thought we had always agreed to both be against it. But then again she isn’t even trying to love me. Not that I would try. Not anymore. I tried when I was younger, because I was told to. But Cordelia has just no idea how to react appropriately to a gentleman. Her behavior makes it hard to believe that she is from such a high rank.

I saw Simon with a weird book today. He told me it is from his brother and that it is about demons. I told him that this was total nonsense and that he should get a grip on reality. He didn’t spoke to me again after that. Weird for someone who is as annoying as him. I am going to put my notebook in the pocket of my sleeping clothes tonight just to make sure Simon cannot steal it. I have a bad feeling in my stomach. My heart is aching for absolutely no reasons. I am afraid as I try to sleep tonight and the worst thing is that it is irrational. I am going to die alone, this is all my head produces right now.

?

Now every page was covered with blood at the side of the pages and sometimes even on the writing itself. There were no drawings to be found anymore. Just drawings for the escape plan and hierarchy of hell.

I don’t know if my dates are correct. I don’t know how time works in here. I don’t even know how long I am able to write without this thing waking up. This thing with the many doll heads. This spider like creature that kills me every time I move or make a sound. I sometimes wonder what happened to the other boys.

I try to change my perspective. It is hard when you are in so much pain. My brain learned to be sharper now. I can think and act quicker. I need to see this as one of my old detective games or as the times that I had to run away from my bullies. Everything is achievable with logic. Although I would say after being in hell for such a long time that might be a delusional optimism.

1988

I think I made it out fairly well. I am still uncontrollably shaky when I hear any noises. I fear that this demon might comeback to get me. I am back in the old school attic where they strapped me down on the table and sacrificed me. I learned a lot from hell and from the books in the attic. Like the basic ghost rules or that my death and the death of my bullies were labeled an act of god. I compared hell to the war a lot. After all I would say that hell was definitely the worse death. Much longer torture than war would have been. In the war you die just one death after all. But maybe a Mary Ann like me would have ended up there anyway.

I finally was brave enough to get out of the attic. I figured out that the year is 1988 from a newspaper that one of the teachers was reading. 72 years of torture. I wonder how often I was torn apart in this time. But I shouldn’t think about that. That reminds me of the pain and of the times when I tried to count my own corpses. The school hasn’t changed a lot. The teachers are less violent, but still rather strict. They have more lower class people here now. I can see it by the ways they behave and by the clothes they wear. That is especially confusing for me. So rude, so explicit, so freely. It is not a boarding school anymore. Luckily that gives me the freedom to have my peace after dark.

I started to watch a specific boy. I am not a stalker. At least I wouldn’t use this therm for a ghost. He is just interesting for my scientific research about this time. The boy has a darker skin. Some children in this school have this skin and get picked on, but somehow he isn’t the one who gets pick on. He wears very interesting clothes. Especially the golden earring. Something I would just see a woman wear, but it fits him so much better than it could ever fit a woman. His clothing is mostly black, though I would say that the red shirt he once worn fits him best. His lips have always a smile on them and he cracks loud jokes. But I see the sadness in his eyes. I recognize my own sadness in his eyes. His name is Charles Rowland. I heard the teacher yell it at him. A little trouble maker in class. He seems to never be able to focus. Maybe he is also possessed like I was when I was a young boy. But after experiencing hell, I doubt that the priest back then had any idea what a demon was really like.

The following page is filled with a very realistic drawing of Charles, who is smiling so iconically and his eyes seem to be filled with emptiness and some smaller doodles of Charles playing Cricket or talking to others.

Charles Rowland. His name repeats itself in my brain. I am not obsessive. He is just the best way of distraction I can find in this school. Distraction from the fear of hell. The fear of death coming back for me. Analysis and observation keep me away from those horrible thoughts. I have less panicle outbursts since I started my observation of this boy. Although when I am alone at night in the school attic I often start to cry in silence and my breathing races again.

Charlie. That is what his friends call him. It doesn’t suit him. Charles is his name. Not Charlie. I don’t like his friends. They are rude. They remind me of the boys in my old life. I wonder why I like Charles then. Maybe because he points out obvious misbehavior of the group even if they mock him.

The most interesting time is when Charles thinks that he is alone. That is mostly in the dressing room, when he gets ready for Cricket. As a short notion he is a fabulous cricket player, but he always waits till the other boys have changed and are out of the room. He pretends to struggle with his shoes or shorts. Even if that sometimes means that it is getting really dark outside. His smiles fades completely then. I saw the scars on his body. I feel bad for even looking at him in that state. Seeing a boy my age without a shirt is clearly inappropriate and it triggers the Mary Ann inside of me, but sometimes my detective senses is taking over too much. Especially after I saw all the scars and bruises. You don’t need to be that clever to understand that his family probably his father beats him. Although beating may be a too mild verb for those scars. I appreciate the absence of my father when I see him. My father and teachers used to beat me as well. With a ruler or the flat hand though not as much as my classmates. And after being through hell, that all seems like nothing in comparison. But even in my time no father would have mistreated their sons like that. I speak from a higher class, maybe it had been different in the lower class, but they were happy if their sons made it through childhood without a disease or scars so they could work properly. Although maybe they did this with the child workers. Is Charles secretly a child worker? Is there still child labour? Why would someone bruise their son like that if their son could provide a great income for the family? Or how many things was Charles doing something seriously wrong?

1989

His friends talked about me last night. They had cricket practice until the sun had settled and on the way back home I heard them talking about a school ghost. The janitor must have heard my weeping last night. My hysteria yesterday was indeed a lot. Too much to handle for myself. I think I was shaking till dawn. This vivid fear must have crossed over into the living world. They told Charles, that this had scared the janitor and he quitted. Then they told him of Mary Ann who was sacrificed 1916 and killed all the boys that night. Charles questioned this logically, since it was an all boys school, so there probably was never a girl. I certainly appreciate his thinking, but this just triggered a lot in me. Being called a Mary Ann even after all this years. Being remembered only as a Mary Ann. Being blamed as the murderer. Those boys clearly had no idea of what the term Mary Ann actually meant, but it just triggered me so badly that I started to panic again. My panic must have bursted through the worlds again, because the boys suddenly turned white and ran home. Charles stayed a little longer. Looking in my direction. I know he couldn’t see me, but maybe he could sense my panic more than the other boys could. Again we are much a like if you observe closely. After this strange second of him just starting into nothing and me starting back, he ran away as well.

I need to leave this place. But I am too scared. Too scared of the outside world. Too scared of the changes.

I wanted to leave today, be brave enough. But I heard Charles ‘friends’ talking bad about him behind his back. How weird he behaved. They had no idea about his scars. Then again if I would be his friend, which is rather unlikely, I wouldn’t confront him. I know how horrible I panic if someone says the word Mary Ann, I imagine that it is a similar situation for him with his scars. I stayed. I don’t know why. Again irrational fears.

I wish I would have left. I saw Charles defending a boy who got bullied by his so called friends. I felt tears in my eyes, because this was the kind of protection I had wished for when I was alive. I definitely feel too many emotions at the moment or maybe it just feels like more emotions because I was mostly numb in hell. The younger boy could escape with only a few bruises, but his friends still were in this blood lust. In this moment of still wanting the fun even though there was nothing funny about the action in the first place. I have seen those faces before. The faces of murders who only realize their actions when it is too late. They stoned him in the cold water. The water of the lake in which I once thought about killing myself a long time ago. I wanted to help. I wanted to stop them, but I had no idea what I could do. I am too new in this ghostly body. I tried desperately, but I ended up only pausing them by holding them back for a short time. It gave Charles time to ran away to the school building. He hid in the attic. I wanted to help him. The least I could do was by giving him a light. He was in a state where a floating light probably was his least problem. It turned out that he could see me and that was the moment I knew it was too late for him anyway. It was a strange sensation to properly speak again. I had never spoken in hell and in my ghost form I had only weeped. Hearing my own voice was odd. I was shortly surprised that I still knew how to use my voice. Reading to him from one of my old comics in the attic calmed him and gave me the opportunity to adapt a bit to talking for a longer period of time. He stayed with me, which honestly stresses me out a lot. I am not made to be a friend. I have been isolated for too long to be a good friend. I have been in hell for so long that I am probably a horrible person myself. I haven’t talked in so long. I am just adapting to just have conversations, how should I teach him to be a ghost, if I haven’t figured it out myself? Even if that all would not be the case and even if we would not be from different times, still I never have been good with other people. I never had friends. The only person a bit close to me was Cordelia and she was always more a sister for me. And still he chooses a stranger his own afterlife. From my observations I would blame his intentional behavior. He sees something and does something without thinking long. Although this decision might be too big for only this explanation.

I really can’t understand why Charles is choosing me over his afterlife. I just read to him once and gave him a lantern. He barely knows me and now he follows me everywhere. I showed him some ghost tricks and somehow I can really impress him by everything I say or do. But he made me smile for the first time in my life. So I am impressed by him as well. Whenever I read in this book, I just tell him that I like to keep record of things. That I would plan were we can go next as we no longer can stay in the school and waking around without plan is never good for too long. It is partly a lie I really am making a plan. But I do this in my head rather than writing it down, but it is an excuse for not letting him see my private writing. I tell him that it is rather boring planning and he believes me. I feel bad for lying to him, but if he would know about my past he surely would leave me and I would be all alone again.

We mirror traveled together to London. Charles felt a bit sick after it. He seems to still need to adapt to his ghost body. I was a bit overwhelmed with his sudden mood shift. I have been too selfish all my life and in my death so much that I don’t know how to help. He didn’t notice or he just didn’t say anything. But we had to mirror travel, it was too dangerous in the school after Charles died. Besides Charles is a talented and athletic boy, he will get the grip of it. In addition death could have caught me in the attic. I didn’t tell him why I am on the run. Not yet. I fear that once I tell him that I was in hell, he will think I am evil. Maybe that is true. Maybe I am just doomed. I feel like it was my fault that he died. I watched him so long with this incorrect feelings of mine. Maybe this cursed him like in a Greek tragedy. For now I just want to make sure that Charles is not alone. I had been alone for too long to know how dreadful it can get and he is much more social than I am.

We visited his family in London. A real rural area. His mother was crying over the loss of her son. His father just seemed to see it as a natural thing to happen to those who aren’t careful enough. I made a mental note to haunt this man every year to Charles’ death day without telling Charles. The school, once again, swept the problem under the carpet and made it appear like an accident. How can someone possibly stone himself while being in the water and then run in an attic? No clever detective would see that as the solution. I said that out loud and it turned out that Charles and I both share a passion for detective stories. That was something to make him smile. But he started to cry again as he saw how desperate his mother and sister were. He hugged me, which was a lot. I never have been hugged before and at first it felt like this demon from hell was gripping around me again. I froze in place and pushed him away in a reflex. Charles stopped. I didn’t tell him about the hell part, but I told him that I am not used to hugs and touches in general. He took it in surprisingly well, but for his own sake I added that I might could get used to it. I hope that I am able to get used to it. Charles sees it as something that he can teach me.

It was just a matter of time till my hell trauma wouldn’t be able to keep hidden anymore. We were in an abandoned apartment, since we both are not staying out the whole night. We don’t have to sleep but it is just too awkward. He usually talks through the whole night and I like his voice even with his weird way of talking. He likes me reading to him. He even carries all my books for me. But as we explored the abandoned house, I discovered an old doll. I overreacted I know. But there was just so much panic inside of me all of the sudden. My fight or flight mood was activated again. I don’t know what Charles did. I don’t know how he managed to stop me from repeating the word ‘Please spare me. I don’t belong in hell.’ I vaguely remember his hands securely holding my head and his shining dark eyes and his calm voice, but I don’t remember his words. He was confused by my sudden changed behavior, but he tried to not show that whole calming me. Once he had calmed me, I obviously had to tell him the truth. I gave him the opportunity to leave me again, but he stayed and he understood, said that this is probably the worst thing someone could have been through. We didn’t speak the rest of the night, but we continued the next day as if nothing had happened.

It is harder to continue my writing as Charles could find out and I don’t want him to know about this. He is so lively. He is jumping and sprinting around, while telling me things and just appears from behind. I cannot risk that. We have a detective agency now. We don’t want that others have their deaths so badly twisted as ours. Another reason was that he had introduced me to a game called Clue, which is basically a detective game, and then we both came up with the idea of starting our own detective agency. He is the brawn and I am the brain. It fits perfectly. We even managed to get a abandoned flat in London. I probably have no time to continue this memoirs, but I will make sure to use my notebook as a case lock book from now own.

I will never tell him about the real meaning of the word Mary Ann. I will never tell him that I had been in the school for a whole year and not just shortly before his death. I will never tell him that I have watched and observed him. I appreciate him now too much. I don’t ever want to lose him.

After that only a whole lot of cases and notes and questions on them followed.

[svt-rosalie]

Hi so Rosalie dating woozi may I know how it happened ? How ask how? What was seungkwan reaction? Is woozi the jealous type? What if someone else flirt with Rosie? Hope you still taking requests. I love your work by the way 👍

[this ask was sent in december of 2023….. im so sorry i haven’t responded]

The developed feelings in the early months of 2019, they didn’t speak on them though.

They were concerned like “Why am I catching feelings for my friend? S/he’s suppose to be JUST my friend”

I mean Rosalie always thought Jihoon was cute but that was silly child crushes, but this was adult crushing and they did not know how to act around each other

You can see in there behind the scenes videos that they kind stray away from each other but still stay in eye sight — yet they don’t speak to each other.

Same thing with Going Seventeen episodes, they only interacted when they HAD to because they would get flustered and not know how to act around each other.

The announcement of feelings didn’t come to light until Rosie’s birthday.

They shared a kiss that night

It was late and Jihoon was the last to wish the girl Happy Birthday, honestly Rosie was sick of them tip toeing around each other and confronted him head on

“Why are you avoiding me? Did I do something to you?”

“No you didn’t do anything Rosebud”

“Then why are you avoiding me?”

“Well you’re avoiding me too!”

“But you started it! I didn’t want to push your boundaries!”

“Well maybe I want my boundaries pushed!”

AND BAM ROSALIE LAYED ONE ON HIM!!ahhhh my babies.

Honestly that settled their feelings for each other but Jihoon did run out of her room and run to his like a little scaredy cat.

That did hurt Rosie’s feelings a lot, especially when he went back to avoiding her and not wanting to speak up about their feelings for each other.

Rosie confided about everything that was going on to Seungkwan.

The older boy listened and gave clean advice. Just because of his feelings didn’t align with her own doesn’t mean he was going to sabotage what she was feeling for someone else.

Seungkwan told her to wait it out, let Jihoon come to her. They both know how he is when it comes down to talking about his feelings. They both know he would rather ignore it than confront it. He told her to just act normal with him, if he wants to ignore it that doesn’t mean she had to.

And that’s what she did and it kinda felt like they were back to normal? Woozi slowly came out of shell once again and acted the same way he did with her before but the lingering touches and side glances at her were noticeable, but only to them.

During New Years of 2019 though is when everything came to a head and was finally confronted.

Jihoon FINALLY asked the girl to be his stating that he wants to go in the new year as the luckiest man

:(( i love them so much

Rosalie was over the moon and forgot that there was camera all around and just smacked a kiss on him.

It didn’t really matter to either of them though because whatever were to happen they would go through it together, as one.

I also wouldn’t say Woozi the jealous type to be honest?

I feel like they both are secure in their relationship and know that they have to act a certain way with fans for fan service.

That doesn’t mean Woozi doesn’t side eye the male fans that express that Rosalie is exactly their type at fansign

Jihoon does definitely joke with the girl and say “Oh how’s your other boyfriends doing?”

Rosie will be so confused and pout at him like “Huh? I have another boyfriend?”

Jihoon wouldn’t be able to finish the joke without laughing and covering Rosie’s face with kisses and saying “Nevermind Nevermind, just give me love.”

They are actually my favorite couple AHHHHHH!!!!

i will have actually written chapter scenarios about their relationship and how it developed shortly, can’t promise how quickly it’ll be done though!

[cre8inghavoc]

Can't help it...

Part 8

inumaki x f!reader

pairing: inumaki x f!reader

summary: Transferring to a new school is tough, but having your three best friends there makes it easier. Things get even more interesting when you start falling for the mysterious boy who rides his motorcycle to school every day. What will happen next?

genre/warnings: [18+] Characters are aged up. Story contains cursing, new friends, alcohol, college!au, no curse!au, dark humour, SMAU and written parts, fluff, smut.

"Actually, you know what Inumaki. I don't care. Do whatever you want I couldn't care less to be honest. So please just leave."

Lies. You don't even know what possessed you to say those things... You did care... in fact you cared way more than you liked. You just didn’t want to believe him. So you turned around and pushed against his chest, trying to create space between you.

“I said, leave,” you muttered, your voice shaky.

But Inumaki barely moved. Instead, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back toward him. His grip was firm but not rough, the intensity in his gaze making your breath catch. “You think I’m going to just walk away when you won’t even hear me out?” His voice was deeper now, tinged with something darker, something possessive.

“Stop it,” you demanded, trying to yank your wrist free, but his hold tightened just slightly.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “You’re mad because you care a little too much, don’t you?”

Your heart raced as he got closer, his body pressing into yours, leaving you no room to escape. His voice was low, teasing, dripping with confidence. “You don’t like it, do you? Seeing someone else close to me. You hate it.”

Your breath hitched, your chest tightening as you tried to pull away, but his grip stayed firm. His free hand came up to brace against the wall beside your head, trapping you completely. “Stop pretending.”

Your mind spun, the closeness overwhelming, the heat radiating between you two making it impossible to think clearly. “Toge... stop,” you muttered, but your voice was weak, flustered.

A slow, dangerous smirk spread across his face, and his eyes flickered with something possessive, something more than just frustration. “No. i'm not letting you go just yet.”

You tried to pull back again, but he stepped forward, his body pressing you against the wall. His voice dropped even lower, almost a growl. “You’re mine, Y/N. And I’m not letting anyone get in the way of that.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. The anger, the hurt—they were still there, but they were being drowned out by the intensity of his presence, the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“You’re lying to yourself,” he whispered, his lips barely brushing your ear, teasing you with the closeness. “You're jealous, aren't you? You think I didn’t notice?”

“Stop,” you muttered, your voice shaky as you turned your face away from him.

“You want me to stop?” he murmured, his voice dripping with teasing dominance. “But you haven’t told me to let go. Why’s that, y/n?”

You swallowed hard, refusing to meet his gaze, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. You were flustered, your mind racing with conflicting emotions, but you couldn’t ignore the way he had you pinned, his body pressed so close to yours that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“I don’t care,” you whispered, though even you could hear how weak the lie sounded.

Inumaki smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Liar. You care. You wouldn’t be this upset if you didn’t.”

“Admit it. You don’t want anyone else touching me. You want me all to yourself.”

His words wrapped around you, teasing and confident, and you felt your resolve slipping. You couldn’t deny it anymore—the jealousy, the frustration, the way you cared more than you wanted to admit. And he knew it.

“I’m not letting anyone else have me. Not Alyssa, not anyone. Only you.”

"And you're mine y/n."

His hand cupped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze, and no matter how hard you tried to look away, you couldn’t. The intensity in his eyes, the way his words seemed to wrap around you, made it impossible to think straight.

“Toge...,”

“Don’t,” he said softly, his thumb brushing lightly against your jaw. “Don’t say you don’t care. Don’t lie to me.”

"Admit it...”

You clenched your fists, your mind spinning. “No,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You’re wrong.”

Inumaki’s smirk deepened, his eyes darkening with satisfaction. “Am I?” His hand began to move, sliding down from your face to your shoulder, and then slowly, teasingly, down your side.

Your heart raced as his hand slipped lower, grazing your waist.

“I don’t... I don’t want this...”

Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. And he knew damn well you were lying.

Inumaki leaned back staring into your eyes, only inches away from your face. “You’re still lying to yourself, y/n.”

Inumaki’s gaze softened as he leaned in, his face just inches from yours, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. Your heart raced, your mind growing hazy with each passing second. His eyes held you captive, intense and unwavering, and you felt every ounce of anger and frustration you’d been holding onto start to slip away.

Your breath hitched as you waited, anticipation filling the air between you. But just as you thought he might close the distance, his lips so close they nearly brushed yours, he paused. His eyes flashed with that familiar, teasing glint, and then, just like that, he pulled back, leaving you reeling from the unfulfilled closeness.

He stepped away, smirking in that infuriating way that made your heart race and your cheeks burn. Turning, he walked toward the window, his confidence radiating with each step. He threw a look over his shoulder, his expression knowing.

“Gotta wake up early for school tomorrow, yeah?” he said, his tone playful. “See you then.”

Without waiting for a response, he climbed out the window and left. You stood there, frozen, your heart still pounding as you heard the low rumble of his bike starting up. Moments later, he sped away, the sound fading into the distance, leaving you alone in the silence.

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. He’d left you there, heart racing, the unspoken words still caught in your throat. Frustration bubbled up inside you, a mix of anger and longing as you stared at the empty space where he’d been.

You shake your head as a bitter laugh escapes your lips.

"You little bitch."

@madaqueue @mikko-mikko @arabella0001 @swarachxle @s3ns4ti0n4l @jdgfsgdgdvf @tomikixd @arabella0001 @emotionalasf @unofficialsapphire @miowxh

[tutantmeenageneetleteetle]

Hi I was wondering if I could request something.

How would the 2012 turtles feel about an autistic s/o who had situational mutism? I am someone who has both and I use cue cards or text my responses when I am unable to communicate them verbally. It would be interesting to hear how the four of them approach this circumstance.

Situational mutism

Thank you for your request! I hadn't heard of situational mutism before, so I hope that what I wrote is somewhat accurate to how it works! Feel free to correct me and educate me (can be in my DMs or requests if you prefer it to be more private!) And if I made a mistake, I'll change it!🌸

Leo

Thought you were mad at him at first, or didn't understand what he was saying

When you explained (by typing it out), he just let out an "Oooh... okay"

He might struggle a bit, the first time it happens

When you are able to communicate verbally again, he will try to make a plan with you (here comes the plan-guy again, who needs a plan for everything...)

He will ask you what you need, what he can do to help, what you don't like, how it works, etc.

Prefers if you communicate through text to speech, but if you prefer something else, that's totally okay too

He just wants to make sure you're comfortable

He will make sure everyone waits for you to type out what you have to say to make sure you're not talked over or ignored

He will teach you some ninja hand signs as well, for emergency communication

Raph

Would be really confused and frustrated at first

He would think you're purposefully not replying to him and it would tick him off

After you explained (by typing it out), he would feel really guilty about getting angry with you

You'd get one of them rare apologies

After that, he would stick up for you and get angry for you if people weren't considerate enough or impatient in their communication with you

"Situational mutism is hard, you asshole! Be considerate, or I'll beat a little respect into you!"

Violence may not be the answer you were hoping for, but it is an answer nonetheless

The dumbass will sometimes not notice or forget that you have situational mutism, though.

In his own words, feel free to hit him on the head and make him pay attention/remember

Döner kebab

He would be quick to pick up on the fact that it's not 'just you being quiet'

Would ask you about different options in his mind that could possibly be related to you being silent

"Don't you want to talk or can't you talk? You can't? Okay. Does it give you anxiety to talk? Sometimes, okay... You also have autism, right? Yes? Situational mutism? Yes? Okay, that makes sense, then."

He will do his research

Will make you a smart watch that is designed for non-verbal communication, where you have different keywords, phrases, and letters to communicate

One of the phrases will be "Donnie is the best boyfriend ever!"

Please don't give him too much space to talk, though (I'm saying this for your own good). Any silence he can find, he will yap about some science related stuff

Mikey

He would be too busy yapping to notice at first

He would just start asking you endless questions and you could not keep up with answering them, since it takes longer to even answer with text or cuecards.

When you did manage to explain, he'd just react with "wooow... alright. Dope." While he does fingerguns. (6/10, kind of funny response, but could've been more considerate, since it's a struggle sometimes)

Out of all of them, he will pick up the communication the easiest

Cuecards will work best on him

He will spend the afternoon making them with you

He thinks it's really fun to use cuecards to communicate together, and he will use them to you too

Will always have a set of cards on hand for you (or him!)

One of the cards will have an arrow pointing up with the word "kiss here" written on it

[raezlove]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard

I finished it after 90 hours over the last week. I did all quests and side content available to me and was pretty thorough with notes and momentos. I was hooked from the start, definitely saw why the writing got criticized during the middle, and then was continually surprised by the end sequence.

For me this was a solid 7/10 game if looking at it from a linear story game rather than a branching rpg.

Thoughts below. Some spoilers.

Starting with some general categories then moving on to larger issues I had.

I’d say the majority of the voice actor performances were really good. There were moments throughout where they weren’t great but that was combined from the very cringe/generic writing. But when the characters needed the emotion for a moving scene, I felt it. Even characters I, at the time didn’t care for or were biased against, the voice actor’s performance made me hurt for them.

Companion cast had some gems as well as some underwhelming members. For me I was taken by Lucanis, Emmrich, Neve, and Davrin as characters. They still weren’t spared from poor lines throughout though. Bellara came around for me by the end as I had initially been biased hearing she was incredibly annoying but I also didn’t have her in my party very often for gameplay reasons. Taash and Harding I also rarely took out for gameplay reasons nor did they pull me in as companion characters.

Companion arc quest lines I enjoyed them all well enough but I liked Davrin and Harding’s the best for world and lore building,though I admit the actual quests for Harding felt lacking to me. The map locations also didn’t feel utilized as they were only ever seen those couple times. Bellara’s quest was also interesting for lore but other than the ending, which was not unexpected, felt mundane to me. Lucanis’s and Emmrich’s were decent arcs though they didn’t feel like anything groundbreaking, it just helped that I had already found their characters compelling. Neve’s was very underwhelming to me which was disappointing because I initially was quite intrigued by Neve. Taash’s was done as well as they could’ve with the direction they decided paired with their safe writing. I mean no disrespect for them wanting to include a gender queer story but something about this didn’t land. I saw someone else say it but the modern lingo in this fantasy setting made it seem out of place just for the sake of it. I don’t know how they could’ve implemented that aspect of Taash better but their writing and performance came across too stiff at times. ((This is not an issue of including lgbt characters, rather how they are written and if they are pushed to be defined solely by that one sole aspect of their identity))

Art design and world direction was never an issue for me even from the trailers (except for that first one where I thought I was watching a live service mobile trailer). I don’t mind brighter exaggerated designs or flashy colors. Nothing stood out but nothing was bad either, it was just an average design to me. As mentioned above though there were specific locations I felt were underutilized and sometimes felt included just to make the map seem bigger. I liked the character designs but outfit choices were definitely not my favorite and I wished they had an all black outfit for Rook but that’s just an irrelevant personal wish.

The callbacks to Inquisition were something I was incredibly curious to how they would handle and was looking forward to. For transparency, my original Inquisitor romanced Solas and refused to give up on him so I was holding out for my Solavellan heart to be fixed or at least something that dulled the ache. The Inquisitor appearances were about what I expected. Lavellan shows up a couple times, sends some letters, then shows up for the finale. I did get my Solavellan ending and while selfishly I wish it could’ve been more, I think it was adequate (though that kiss animation left something to be desired). It felt like an appropriate end for my Lavellan who was so sad and beaten down for so long after losing someone she loved with her entire being and after having the weight of so many people looking to her for guidance for the last decade when she never asked for the responsibility in the first place. She finally got to save her person and leave the world’s problems to someone else. As for Dorian, I’m not sure if he shows up/is mentioned more if you saved Minrathos but his appearances kind of felt unnecessary. I loved him in Inquisition but he didn’t feel properly utilized in the Minrathos story lines I saw. He could’ve just been a name in letters and he would’ve had the same impact.

Main Story was a trip. Overall I found it intriguing and compelling, though sometimes it dragged or some missions were boring. I enjoyed Ghilan’nain and Elgar’nan as villains though Ghilan’nain was more interesting with her molding the blight. Elgar’nan was compelling as a direct comparison to Solas with their pride and arrogance. Their dragons were cool though I really wondered how we were supposed to fight Elgar’nan’s dragon after seeing its size. The end solution did make my jaw drop but also made me chuckle after because I can’t imagine how else they would’ve had the player fight that. Again, I’m biased as I loved Solas as a character for all his complexities and flaws so I enjoyed any of his scenes and appearances. I especially enjoyed the story’s direction in terms of regrets and guilt. Prison sequence was a highlight to be sure. I will also say I really wasn’t expecting them to commit to main companion cast consequences at the end considering how safe they had played it to that point.

Gameplay was a welcome improvement to me over Inquisition. I played Inquisition for the first time about 3 years ago as a mage but I played it again in the last year as a rogue. Both times I played on easy difficulty because I found combat such a nuisance. I am biased as I prefer combat systems more in the realm of Witcher 3 and Breath of the Wild so this fit in with that if a bit busier. I played my Rook as a mage and I tended to use the ability wheel rather than the shortcuts because I needed the time to process and think about what I wanted to do, also the fact I kept switching companions and their abilities depending on the situation I couldn’t remember what abilities were mapped to what buttons. Dodge and parry didn’t feel the best, although I admit that could be fully on me (especially parry). For parry it constantly felt like there was a delay in pressing it though it could very well have been made worse depending on which tv my Xbox was connected to. My issue with dodge was the fact that after a double it basically left you halted with no momentum. Again, very possible it’s just a me thing and I need to “get good” but for how much certain encounters were chaotic enough to be constantly dodging it did become annoying especially if you get hit once and then get caught repeatedly. On normal difficulty as a mage, fights usually felt fair and doable with some more challenging than others depending on wave size or vulnerability paired with specific companions. There was only one fight in a miscellaneous side quest for a haunting that I got too annoyed with and even after trying multiple companion pairings I lowered the difficulty to just get it over with because I couldn’t be bothered. For a random side quest with no real story or likely payoff it didn’t feel worth it.

Now for the largest problem I had with this game: it’s gall to call it an RPG. I don’t expect or need Balder’s Gate level in every RPG game. But this didn’t feel like it even met the level of RPG that Inquisition offered. Whether it was world choices or companion choices very few things felt consequential. For the world, I can only think of 2 or 3 choices that I felt would have any change on the world one of which is literally just a 50/50 of which city is getting destroyed. And of course for the others you never saw or heard and real consequences or reactions aside from initially following the decision. There was nothing that made me second guess myself like deciding to forgive or banish the wardens like in Inquisition, who drinks from the well, the inquisitions fate. And for companion arcs, the choices all felt underwhelming and more a direct effect on gameplay/rewards than any story ramifications. There was never a moment that felt like it mattered to the companion story or their future interactions with me or others. Nothing that felt like it mattered like making Bull choose between his friends and the Qun, encouraging/dissuading Cullen from taking Lyrium, or having a hand in choosing the new Divine. A common thought I had throughout this game was it seemed really hard to get a “so and so disapproves”. There seemed to be more instances in Inquisition where decisions would inevitably be both approved and disapproved by various characters so it was never going to be a case of pleasing everyone. I remember seeing the disapprove notification maybe three times in Veilguard. The critique of the dialogue wheel is also very valid. There is no real choice as all options typically lead to the same outcome just with a different line. You can’t even really be mean or an asshole from what I could tell. Options were sincere, joking/less serious, and stern. None of this I think would’ve mattered as much if it weren’t for the fact this was advertised as a choice based RPG when that just isn’t the case and going in with those expectations is bound for disappointment.

As a last issue it had to do with romance. I liked Lucanis. I like him as a character and I like the voice actor’s delivery. There were lines of his that made me giggle and smile. But the overall writing of the romance and their moments sometimes came across as awkward with the subpar writing. There also wasn’t the same charm I got from Inquisition when at the base. Part of that comes from the lack of actual interactions of being able to talk with your companions in the lighthouse. I hate to keep comparing it but in Inquisition you could still talk to the characters even if they had no new dialogue. In that, you’d have the moments where Solas would call you vhenan or speak Elven or like in my second with Cullen you always had the stealing away for a kiss option. It just felt warmer in a way where in The Veilguard I would get a random one off line when I stood in front of Lucanis and, while some of them were sweet, the lack of player input and interaction caused more disconnect.

So overall as a game I think it’s a good buy assuming you go in with the right framing of what you’re going to be getting. A competent story, some interesting characters, good performance, good gameplay marred by a good helping of juvenile safe writing and lack of choice.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Thank you for the tag @iolaussharpe-24 🫂💜

Something that terrifies you:

Having kids. I feel out of place when my friends start topics about having children, one says she wants 6 or more, the other says 1 or 2 and another one says maybe 1. That's when I come around the corner and say:

"Nah I don't want kids."

They all completely have no problems with that but because we're all in our early 20's, they think I will change my mind later, but I always tell them I'm 100% real not wanting kids.

Don't get me wrong, I like kids, but I feel like I'm not the right person to have some. Plus I'm an only child, thus I have never experienced what it feels like to take care of a little one for example a little sibling. The rest of my family lives in another country and the sister of my mom has two younger kids, but we couldn't visit them much and her kids have gotten older now, so there's that.

Something you love unconditionally:

Cats. I am a total cat lover. I used to spend so much time with the cat of our neighbor.

Something you hate unendingly:

Bad written characters like:

Rey from the star wars sequels. I love Daisy Ridley but Rey is so op its sickening. She even had the audacity to call herself a Skywalker when all she did was being a mary sue. Daisy tried her best to make Rey likeable but sadly she couldn't do it for me.

I'm getting slamdunked for this.

The best interaction you've had on tumblr:

Reblogs I guess...

The strangest ask you've ever received:

Not necessarily an ask but rather bots starting chats with you, asking them to join certain adult websites.

Something nice about yourself:

I am as loyal as it can get. I have alot of sympathy for others even if I seem like I don't show them.

Something nice about someone else:

@iolaussharpe-24 @nekoyin @steven-grants-world You guys are top tier friends on this site💜🫂

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction Fen you're also top tier!!!🫂 plus some of those reaction pics we reblog eachother are wild, I love them, hehe.💜

No pressure tags:

@nekoyin @iolaussharpe-24 @steven-grants-world @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

tag game!

Something That Terrifies You:

deep water and having children. pregnancy causes dysphoria, deep water is spooky and there might be a shark in there (I am landlocked) (never know though)

Something You Love Unconditonally:

Slightly melted ice cream. the best. my partner leaves it on the counter for ten minutes before bringing some to me and I love him for it. soft serve is amazing too but only if it's chocolate.

Something You Hate Unendingly:

People who drive stupid. It's so dangerous and for what, to beat me to the red light? We're both stuck at the stop now, fuckhead.

The Best Interaction You've Had on Tumblr:

I remember vividly when Mushi first reblogged one of my fics (it was a blue j fic of course) with like a whole slew of compliments and I about exploded because I'd been reading her fics and stuff for literally forever and i was like w o a h. and now I abuse her with apocolypse 😘❤️ besties

The Strangest Ask You've Ever Received:

literally had no verbs just a bunch of nouns. was like "character x character smut no violence angst." and nothing else. ??? not even a character I wrote for either.

Something Nice About Yourself:

I think my hair is a pretty shade of red.

Something Nice About Someone Else:

@ominoose! very kind and funny and a good person to have on this hellsite.

tags, no pressure: @iolaussharpe-24 @bulletgoth @llumetrii

[virescent-v]

Drabble? 🥹

Goldilocks

Summary: Emily looks at you from across the bar. Warnings: none :) Word count: 875

Thirties and Flirties Lesbian night at Goldilocks was either a hit or miss. There could be a smattering of available and “normal” women to mingle with, or it could be a hodgepodge of people who were taken, weird, or timid that just didn’t mesh with the vibe you were after. 

To be fair, you weren’t sure what you were after. 

You just knew that being alone was weighing heavily on you. You were ready to settle down, sure, but you wouldn’t be opposed to a friends with benefits situation either. 

Apparently, it was the company that you were after. 

Sitting at the bar, a cold drink in hand, you did your routine of gazing around the bar. You started at the door, trying to catch anyone new walking in, then made your way to the dance floor, looking at bodies of all shapes and sizes grinding against each other. Shaking your head at some of the desperation oozing from some of them, you cast your eyes to the various tables scattered on the right side of the dance floor. Most people were already coupled or grouped up. 

However, at the last table closest to the bar, and already looking at you, was an absolutely breathtaking brunette. 

Her hair was almost black, eyes just as dark. She was wearing a tight, black dress, the neckline square across her collarbones. It showed just enough cleavage to be tantalizing, but nowhere near as scandalous as some of the other dresses being worn tonight. Her makeup was smokey, bringing out the deep colors of her eyes. She had one hand resting on her hip and the other was toying with the rim of her glass. 

Trailing your eyes from the heels on her feet to her face, you realized that those deep eyes were already watching you. When you finally made eye contact, the brunette tilted her head far to the right, a small smile appearing. 

You felt something warm grow deep in the pit in your stomach. A shiver of excitement rolls up your spine and the hairs on your arms stand up. A way for your body to prepare you for the storm of the woman to (hopefully) approach you. 

Turning back to the bar, you order another drink and get the bartender to make whatever she was drinking. 

When the bartender passed the two drinks to you, you felt a light brush of fingers on your upper arm. “Any chance that’s for me?” 

Looking over your shoulder, you almost gasped. She was even more beautiful up close. You found yourself getting lost in the details of her; long eyelashes, a sculpted nose, full lips. Every trace of your eyes over her skin brought new details that you tried to memorize. 

Cooling yourself, you smiled, turning towards her. “Sure is. How’d you know?” You handed her the drink. 

She smiled as she took a small sip. You were enraptured by how her lips curled around the rim of the glass. You imagined them wrapped around yours, how soft they would feel moving with yours. 

“I had a hope,” Emily said, dragging her eyes up your form. “I haven’t seen you at Goldilocks before.” 

You made a noncommittal noise. “Interesting. I come here often. Do you?” 

Emily smiled, shrugged. “When work allows.” She took another sip of her drink before placing the cup down on the bar. “Excuse me if I’m being a little forward, but would you like to dance?” 

Placing your drink down beside hers, you extend your hand, which she happily takes before dragging you out into the middle of the floor. 

You can feel the deep bass thumping within your chest, instantly drowning out any further conversation. Your heart beat starts to match the pulsating music, the pulsating of bodies around you. 

Emily drags you towards her, bringing your arms around her neck, effectively slotting your hips against hers. It makes your breath catch. 

You both start to move with the beat of the music, keeping eye contact that grows heavier with each passing moment. As the songs blend and mesh into the background of your thoughts, Emily’s hands begin to wander, rubbing up and down your back, around your arms. 

As the sweat builds on your bodies and your quickened breath mingles together, the tension rises and rises. There’s almost no discernable space between you two, your noses brushing. 

Just as the tension almost reaches its zenith, a passerby in the crowd bumps into you, forcing you off balance, making you almost fall to the ground. 

Before you tumble fully, warm, strong arms embrace you, hauling you back upright. Brushing hair out of your face, Emily’s eyes track over you. “Are you alright?” 

You blush deeply, embarrassed at such a moment. “Thanks to you.” 

Emily smiles before her eyes search the crowd for the person responsible. Having lost them in the sea of people, her dark eyes turn to you. “Want to move somewhere more quiet? There’s a late night cafe open next door.” 

You tilt your head down, tucking more hair behind your ear, bashful. Looking up from under your lashes, your cheeks heat again. “Yes, please.” 

Emily smirks, grabs your hand, before dragging you towards the front door of the club. 

[redpanda-redpanda]

✏️

[fingertipsmp3]

Not to be one of those people who complains but why are the two library books I reserved 3 weeks ago (as the first person in the queue mind you. And both of them are popular books with multiple copies available) still not ready

[ask-emily-em-emmy]

*Mist of Regret? She’d never read about that before. No one had written about that, in relation to the end or otherwise…*

“I just need to keep holding your hand. I’ll be okay!”

*She anxiously held her guardian’s hand as tightly as possible. They flew into the mist, their wings pushing the mist, but never escaping the onslaught of the dense clouds*

“Do you understand what they just did to you? Do you even know what your job is meant to be? Do you know what your grand purpose has become? Emily you have been put below the winners in their eyes. Doomed to serve.”

*Emily’s eyes shot up to Sera’s face as she heard her voice roar at her but she wasn’t even looking at her, perhaps caught up in her own visions*

“Was talk of virtue just pretension? Was I too naive to expect you to heed the morals you’re purveying?!”

*Sera appeared before her, something akin to regret in her eyes, but perhaps not for the reasons she should regret. Emily could feel the anger pouring off of her in waves, could see through every eye she had open, could hear the room, yet she had no idea the context and before she could, the vision disappeared altogether*

*A part of her was relieved to be free, a part of her wished she knew more*

*Freedom doesn’t last, a lesson learned all too quickly. As soon as one vision stopped another took her*

*She doesn’t know where she is now. It’s dark, warm, she feels equal parts safe and also terrified, anxious that something she was meant to honor, to nurture, to bring joy, was ruined*

*Emily can feel herself curled up, her head locked in her knees as she’s wrapped in arms, legs and wings, gentle words from a hardened voice she doesn’t recognize in her ears*

“Hey, Em, it’s okay. I’m right here. You can let it out. Just let it out- whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay. Let it come and let it out.”

*She hears words in her mind, different voices of seraphim she knows, starting with Sera herself, although even in the vision she knows they aren’t with her*

“Naive, thoughtless, impulsive, unable to keep her emotions in check, unqualified to set an example of a true seraphim.”

*The words continued on, each seraphim getting their turn at simultaneously giving Emily pain as well as strength, a fine line that threatened to leave cuts in her heart as much as it held her together. Finally, Sera returned, her voice booming in her ears*

“Doomed to serve!”

*She summoned a towel and cleaned off her face, tears and mucus both wiped away before she sent it back to the washing machine and returned to the one holding her, a faceless entity with dark Grey wings that felt like a campfire*

*She slams her lips into Grey’s and feels her own heart break, not able to comprehend in the moment how wrong this is*

*Before she can get a grasp on what’s happening the vision slams away and she’s back in heaven, a Light Blue seraph she doesn’t recognize, the vision is hazy but she knows six wings when she sees them*

“Consider it… an upgrade~.”

*The slap is surprising for everyone involved and although she won’t be able to see it in the moment, the mist allows her to see with Sera’s sight and she can see the back of her hand leaving a red imprint there for all eternity*

*Shes slammed onto her knees, familiar sheets in front of her as she kneels bedside*

“I beg that she be brought back, I beg that she be given kindnesses that heaven should be known for, but if you choose not to grant her this…”

*She feels the vision’s version of her take in a breath. She feels her hesitation, and ultimately, her decision to choose self-immolation over the loneliness that has settled deep in her bones*

“I beg you take me with her. Let me go into the flames. Where she goes I will too. She is mine, and I and hers. I beg you let me honor that and grant me a way to return to her no matter the path taken.”

*Suddenly the vision is fast, frantic, she’s pulling someone through portals and she knows, she knows it will kill whoever is in her arms but she’s trying to save someone else. She’s making the active choice to take a life to save her lover’s. She’s making the same choice that-*

*The end is nigh, there is no saving her*

*She falls. There are no wings at her back, there is still a halo over her head, there are tears in her eyes. She waits for the end and it terrifies the young Emily watching through her mind’s eye*

*The vision was dark for a moment but then picked up again in an office with dark wood all around*

*Someone with golden wings stood on one end of a desk, their stance wide and aggressive, while she stood on the other, her wings out stretched intimidatingly as she yelled at the figure*

“Mixed messages?! I’m giving mixed messages?! How?! When?!”

*Theres guilt, because she feels the pain of the Angel in front of her, but her words keep stabbing*

“Do you think I love you for your body? Do you think you’re not special to me? Not precious? That you could so easily be replaced?”

*Young Emily is thoroughly confused at this point, but there’s a pang of fear and sadness and longing that she recognizes so easily*

*The vision flashes and there’s three people between her and Sera, the Gold, the Grey, and something Blue. Sera looks horrified while the Gold pierced the Blue and then the Blue was no more. Her heart broke and everything slipped away once more*

*The vision slipped away and they were back in the court room. She was flanked by Gold and Grey once more. Sera was in the highest point overlooking the room. Light Blue had returned although she seemed… different somehow. Almost new. There was another seraph there as well, Red*

*There was a scream from Red, she launched at Emily and something struck towards her but before it could hit her, Grey was in between them and suddenly grey wings were stained gold*

*A flash and now Gold and Emily were holding Grey. Her hand shook as it followed a face her brain couldn’t comprehend yet, knowing there was a smirk but unable to see it past a fog*

“You can’t leave us! You’re mine and I am yours! Please! Please! Please!”

*The light faded in golden eyes and she felt a flame she had felt since the dark vision she had in Grey’s arms grow cold until it faded completely. The flame died. The flame was gone*

*Gold held her hand as she sobbed. They sobbed too. She tried to be mad but there was just an overwhelming emptiness within her and instead of reacting she lay there over her Grey, her Gold standing vigil protecting her as the court room fell into chaos*

*Young Emily did not want to be here any longer. She longed for a flame she did not know, longed for that feeling and would not settle for less, longed to go home and wait for her, longed to stop regretting and start making a world that wouldn’t allow for the things she’d seen, to be the kindness heaven needed, to be the stop to violence. There was a need for that, and Emily wanted to fill that. To make a better heaven for Grey, Gold, and all of the people who would pass through the golden gates*

*These visions would be set aside in the millennia to come, forgotten until well after she met Ass and Shamira. The lessons, however, would remain*

*A young Emily, barely four feet tall, comes running down the hall. It’s early, the sun hasn’t even begun to rise, but this is her day off and Sera had promised that she would have time to spend with Emily*

*Little feet come pattering down against the marble floors of the palace before Emily jumps and turns, landing right in front of the tall ornate doors to Sera’s room*

*Practically buzzing with excitement, her fist pounds against the door* “Sera!!! It’s morning time!!! You have to wake up so we can get the day started!!!”

(( @ask-emily-em-emmy ))

[Sera walked out of her chambers in her nightgown, rubbing her eyes sleepily. Today she could finally let herself take a day off, so she promised Emily to spend this day with her. Though Sera didn't expect that this day would start so early.]

[She looked at the little seraph and smiled at her.]

Good morning, Emily, I see you're already so excited. I need to change clothes first. Come inside, you can wait for me there.

[She stepped aside to let Emily into her chambers. The lights haven't even been turned on yet, so it's still dark there.]