#do you feel like you hate people the closest to you while having a crisis

[drpvnk]

people who hate the direction of kit's character because he's upset with ty while also knowing ty is autistic... are the same people who fail to realize that while kit is more knowledgable in that area than most nephilim, he was STILL only 15 years old, and while he did go along with ty until last minute even ty questioned his authenticity at some point...

(also did we all collectively forget kits entire storyline? this kid was in NO position to make any life-altering decisions... tbh the only person who might have an inkling of what he's going through is clary, cause yea not even jace and his reassurance can fully encompass kits issues...

i mean here is a kid who was abused by neglection and harsh treatment, a kid who has only ever know to crave love and never felt it. and then one day his abuser/protector is ripped in half right in front of him, and he's promptly told that he is apart of a society who he was taught to hate his entire life. so there goes his first identity crisis. but oh wait, this entirely new society has been taught to expect tragedy to happen at anytime of the day so suck it up cause your one of us now and also we're placing you in a super tight-knit family that is going through their own traumatic shit, so they won't have time to even TRY and make you feel welcomed or acknowledged... like AT ALL. (cause wow, how many times was kit left on the sidelines while the entire LA institute had a giant group hug... LOL) but then you get accepted by these twins and become apart of their little group, and now you don't want to let go, you CAN'T, because this is the closest you've ever been to being apart of a family, so you have to bury your grief and be likeable and cool and strong. but then one of the twins die and suddenly everyone is looking at you to comfort the other twin, but you haven't even been able to figure out how to grieve yourself before having to experience this additional loss of a budding relationship. but you love this boy so OK you do what you can, even if it means going along with something that makes you sick to your stomach. but your still new here, you don't know which lines to cross, you don't know whats ok and what's not, who to tell and who not to tell, you dont want this boy to hate you, you can't lose this "home" even as it's being held by the thinnest string ready to break. even as you look at yourself and can only see the same look of disappointment and hate and secrets upon secrets, an exact copy of his fathers expression when he looked at kit, a man your not sure you even love. there goes your second identity crisis. (funny how much kit hates secrets and yet thats been the only revelation of his entire existence)

you suck it up until you can't anymore, until your feelings spill over in the purest words that you can express, words that mean a lifetime to you because these are words no one has have uttered to you, because these are words you know you probably need to hear too.

except now your left soppin wet and punched by your inconsolable crush and watching as he performs a failed resurrection. and then after being kept in confinement for some days its revealed that your part faerie, another race hellbent on being hated by the world. except your not just any faerie but the one true heir to TWO thrones... and there's your third identity crisis.))) also,,, dont get me started on the short stories where we expect to read about kit healing and then we actually just see him sink deeper and deeper into this pit of self-loathing as he's continuously put in positions that have him viewed as a threat and danger to his family... i.e. his heritage, tessa and jems reaction to him holding james' gun, mina's kidnapping, etc.

yea, by all means kit be angry!

and to address kit being older and still holding this grudge years later with the assumption that he knows more and maybe understands ty's thought process better,,, he's already admitted to being mad at ty for putting kit in a position that had him looking in the mirror and seeing johnny rook... NOT at the fact that he was "rejected" or even the resurrection itself...

is kit in the right for his misplaced anger? ofc not,,, but he also went through a lifetime of trauma that you can't simply let go of just because another person might not have fully understood the headspace that he was in at the moment

kits characterization within the fandom really makes me realize how privileged many people are to never having to go through the messy process of grieving your abuser while now figuring out who you are after them, all while their shadow is still casted over your entire being... like, no kit didn't runaway from being rejected by a boy, he ran away from being rejected despite his desperate efforts to be loved, even if it meant sacrificing his own sanity by becoming someone who resembled the catalyst of ALOT of his trauma,,,ofc this is all in his pov since we the readers are aware of tys feelings)

thats all to say that kit really is good at suppressing his feelings if even the readers glossed over the multiple times his mind began to stray towards the death of his father throughout the tda series. like, we're aware of johnny's treatment towards kit and we're also aware of the envirommemt he was raised in,,, so why is it that people focus on him "knowing" about the spectrum b/c he lives in modern society than they are about the life he's personally lived that influenced his decision and thought process throughout the story?

and if it wasn't obvious this post was entirely for kit's pov, ty has a completely different view of things and where kit might not fully understand how ty processes things, neither does ty towards kit. they're both on completely different pages!!

but thats the point of their story!! theyre gonna heal together! we will explore ty's pov and see what he REALLY saw during that time period and maybe kit can finally love himself the way he wants others to love him,,,,

[cirilya]

Why do i always relate to anyhow repressed male characters. I'm just a teenage bisexual girl but clive durham i get you on a spiritual level pls never forget that.

[spider-stark]

THE BRIDGE

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!Reader

Summary - Your wardship with House Blackwood was meant to bridge the chasm between your families. Years later, you return to Stone Hedge as the whispers of war spread—only for Lord Tully to call for a hunt.

Warnings - fem!reader, complicated sibling relationship, fighting, (probably excessive) mentions of blood, talks about hunting/killing wild animals, !angst!, adult language, reader def suffering from identity crisis, probably deviates from canon some, kieran burton fan cast for benji, all characters 18+

Word Count - 5.6k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

When Grover Tully, the Lord Paramount of the Trident, sent word for each of his bannermen to send forth a handful of their finest House members to a most desolate area of the Whispering Woods, no one thought it wise to object. 

“Lord Grover is an ornery old crow,” your father, Humfrey Bracken huffed as you readied the horses. “But you would do well to earn his respect.” He clamped a hand on your brother’s shoulder, pride gleaming in his eyes as he said, “Whatever he’s planning, I want you to show him that House Bracken stands strong. Understood?” 

Keeping his chin held high, Amos hesitantly mutters, “If you wish to impress Lord Tully, you might think twice about sending her.” 

Even with your back turned, you could feel the weight of your brother’s stare, his eyes boring a hole into the back of your head. 

Your father shrugged, a disinterested gesture. “Grover said to send our best,” he said, “and when it comes to a bow and arrow, no one's a better shot than her.” 

For the next day-and-a-half, you rode at a distance from the group your father selected—your brother, Amos, and two of your male cousins. And while they laughed and jeered and yapped, you remained stuck in your own thoughts, playing your father’s words on a loop. 

It’s the only compliment he’s ever paid you. The closest he’s ever come to acknowledging you as Bracken. 

You hate him sometimes, you think. For agreeing to peace all those years ago—for sending his only daughter to ward with his rival of all people. He must have known it was futile. Must have known that one girl could never bridge such an ancient chasm. 

He must have known—and yet he sent you anyway, only to call you back years later, tearing you away from the only home you had ever known and leaving you to feel like a stranger in your House. 

Grover said to send our best. 

Are you a Bracken, then? Is blood all that determines a House? 

No one’s a better shot than her. 

But your skill is that of a Blackwood, born under their tutelage. 

Deep within the Woods, a steady mist of rain falls from the sky, leaving your skin uncomfortably damp. In the distance, a low hum of chattering voices signal that the four of you are drawing close to Lord Grover’s camp—and that the other House’s have already arrived. 

Your thoughts shift, wondering who Lord Samwell sent to represent House Blackwood—fearing that you might already know the answer. 

A strange tightness floods your chest, coiling around your lungs. 

It’s been months since you last saw the heir to Raventree Hall. Many, many months—and you can’t help but think any reunion might end in bloodshed with Amos by your side. 

As if he heard his name ring through your mind, your brother slows his horse to gentle trot beside yours, cocking a neatly groomed brow at you. “Tell me, sister—were you always this dour?” He asks, feigning intrigue. “Or did half-a-decade with the Blackwoods simply drain the joy from you?” 

You don’t pry your eyes from the path ahead, refusing to look him in the eye as he continues without waiting for an answer. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised—a mere day with those insipid cravens would have me wishing to swallow my own blade.” Removing a hand from the reins, he pantomimed the act—gripping an invisible hilt and shoving it towards his lips, letting a dramatic choke rip from his throat. 

Riding a bit ahead, your cousins chortle at his jest, shooting amused glances over their shoulders. 

“No need,” you answer without thinking, your tone impassive. “Aly would have an arrow in your eye before the day was up.” 

Your cousins fall silent. 

Amos stiffens, jaw clenched tight. “She could try.” 

You know Black Aly would try if given half the chance—and you have no doubt that she would succeed, too. She was the one who taught you how to string a bow and sharpen arrows, how to aim and never miss. 

When you don’t respond, Amos pulls his horse in closer—as close as he can get without spookings yours. “Look,” he utters, low enough that your cousins can’t overhear, “I don’t know how things were done at Raventree—but you’re home now, and you would do well to remember where your true loyalties lie.” 

Again, you don’t speak. Don’t think, either. 

Amos sighs. “Your blood runs gold, sister. You’re a Bracken, through-and-through. Take pride in that—and don’t bring shame upon our name. Understood?” 

Strange. 

You had seen your own blood before—more times than you can count, actually. Scars mottle your skin like stars in the sky, a reminder of the years spent training and the memories of nights spent with friends who were supposed to be enemies. 

Never once had it looked gold to you.

Only red. 

“I understand–” a pause, a breath, a heartbeat– “brother.” 

Nausea twists your stomach. The familial title curdles on your tongue even as Amos grins at you. There’s nothing affectionate about the gesture—how could there be? He doesn’t know you. Not really. 

Blood or no, you’re little more than strangers to each other—and yet, even so, you can see he’s trying. Trying to know you. 

Ahead, the camp comes into view. Banners hang above tents: white for the Mootons, blue for the Pipers, purple for the Mallisters. 

And red—for House Blackwood. 

Amos gives you one last glance, a pall mimicry of what you believe is meant to be love in his eyes. “You’re home now,” he reminds you again, as if you need to hear it,“be glad for it.” 

With the Tully’s guards now in earshot, Amos doesn’t bother with waiting for a response. He snaps the reins, urging his gelding back to the head of your group, already bellowing his greetings. You watch him go, transfixed on the yellow-gold of his tunic—identical to yours. 

Approaching the guards, you tell yourself that your brother is what home is supposed to look like. That if you were to slice your veins, gold would pour from your wrists. 

Not red. 

After checking in with the guards and tying your mare up in the makeshift paddock, there was no time left to freshen up before you were expected to join Amos and your cousins. With all the Houses now gathered, Lord Grover wasted no time in calling you all to the heart of the camp. 

Still, you try to make yourself presentable—using your fingers to comb through tangled, windswept hair and smoothing the wrinkles from your gold tunic, careful not to disturb the ornate brooch pinned above your heart. 

According to the guards, everyone was given one upon arrival. “All Houses are required to wear them,” they explained when Amos pressed them on it, “Lord Tully’s orders.” 

They were all different, it seemed. Yours was a delicate thing, fashioned from silver and pearls in the image of a blooming dahlia, while Amos’s was clunky and shaped like the sun. He’s still fumbling with it when you finally push through the small crowd, taking your place at his side. 

To your left, separated only by a group of five Frey men, you feel the wary glances being cast your way. You almost turn your head—almost glance back at them, if only to see what they might do. What he would do. 

Would he even acknowledge you? Or simply look away? 

The answer, thankfully, is one you don’t have time to learn. A servant garners attention, dragging a simple, plush chair to the group’s center. Following suit, another two servants assist the aged Lord Paramount from his tent, guiding him into his seat. On his right stands his eldest grandson—and your favorite Tully. Tall and dark-haired, Elmo looks more fearsome than he actually is, sparing you a quick, discreet wink when he spots you. 

“You may all be wondering,” Lord Grover wheezes, his lungs fighting for breath, “why I have called upon you all today—the many great Houses of our land.” 

As he speaks, old, gnarled hands punctuate his words, gesturing out to the many men gathered ‘round. His fingers shake with effort, his shoulders bowed beneath the weight of his many, many years. But his chin remains high, and his tone commanding—if a touch quavery. 

“I hear rumblings,” he continues, “from the South-East.” 

Lord Grover’s eyes, milky with cataracts, shift in the direction, staring blindly into the towering trees of the Whispering Woods. Beyond them, even. 

“Whispers of a great danger brewing in the Crownlands—within the King’s own court, if rumors are to be trusted.” 

Your spine turns to steel. 

Those rumors, you know, are as true as they come. Over the past several months, they had moved through the realm like a venomous serpent. Slithering from mouth to ear, hissing tales of the two factions that now divide King Viserys’s council. 

The Blacks and the Greens. 

The rightful heir and the first-born son. 

And the very reason your father had called you home. 

“War is coming,” a deep, foreboding warning, “and should it reach the Riverlands, I wish to know that we might stand united in its wrath. That we will not allow petty rivalries–” a pointed glance at your brother, and then to your left where, without looking, you know the Blackwood heir stands–“to tear us apart from within.” 

A heartbeat passes. Then another. 

The forest holds its breath. Cradles the Lord Paramount’s words in the air, weaving them around the many great Houses of the Riverlands. 

You wonder if this is what strength looks like. What it sounds like. 

You fear you already know which side of the war Lord Grover’s strength might fall—and you pray that you’re wrong. 

Placing a firm hand upon his grandfather’s shoulder, Elmo takes a step forward. “In an effort to promote civility between our Houses,” he announces in a tone that demands respect, “we have arranged for a hunt.” 

Your brow furrows. A hunt? 

“You will be divided into two person teams, working with an individual outside of your own House.” His gaze shifts to you, dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “Teams have already been decided. Upon your arrival, each of you was given a pin—your partner will bear a matching one. And while there will be no winners or losers, you should know that once you leave camp, you will not be permitted to return without a trophy of some kind.” 

Discontent spreads. Low murmurs fill the air. 

Amos voices his frustration louder than the rest.  “And when is this hunt to take place?” 

Elmo grins. “Now.” 

Instantly, murmurs grow to shouts. 

“You cannot be serious, my Lord!” 

“It is already sunset!” 

“Is this a jest?” 

Elmo’s grin never wavers, unphased by the protests—and Lord Grover appears content to let his grandson contend with everyone's bickering, exhausted from what little talking he had already done. 

“Might I suggest you move quickly,” Elmo speaks over the crowd. Glancing upwards, he squints at the black clouds rolling overhead, an amused lilt to his voice as he adds, “Lest you wish to be caught in the coming storm.” 

With no more than a curt nod to the crowd, Elmo turns on his heel, already veering off in the direction of his own tent as servants begin to help Lord Grover rise. 

“This is absurd,” your brother grumbles. 

You ignore him. Storming right past him, you make a beeline for the fleeing Lord. 

“A hunt?!” 

Fond as Elmo is of you, you know better than to shout at the future Lord Paramount of the Trident. Your voice remains no more than a harsh whisper, even as you shoot daggers into the back of his head. 

“At night, no less! In the middle of a gods-damned storm! Have you lost your mind?” 

“What? You think it’s a bad idea?” He chuckles, keeping a steady pace. “Of all people, I thought that you might appreciate the challenge of it all.” 

You stay on his heels. “Who is he?” 

“Who is who?” 

Further from the crowd now, you grow bold. You reach out and snag his arm, forcing him to stop and face you. “Ignorance isn’t a good look on you, Elm.” You grind out, “Swear that you didn’t pick him to be my partner.” 

A wrinkle forms between thick brows, feigning innocence. “What makes you think that I chose your partner?” 

“Because I know you. You’re always scheming—jutting your big nose into places it very well does not belong!” 

Elmo opens his mouth—hesitates—and then frowns. “Am I truly that transparent?” 

“You may as well be made of glass, Elm.” 

His pout deepens, still dancing around your question. “Well, let's say that I did choose your partner—theoretically, of course!” Your eyes roll. “I think you would find my choice to be quite suitable. If anything, you might even thank me-” 

“This isn’t a game, Elmo!” Desperate now, you can’t stop your voice from rising. “If you paired me with him, then Amos will–” 

“Kill him?” Elmo ventures. 

“Yes!’ 

Pursing his lips, Elmo’s gaze falls somewhere over your head. “Well,” he sucks in a breath, “it seems we may be past the point of stopping that from happening.” 

Your mind goes blank, your thoughts scattering like shards of glass. 

You spin on your heel, head whirling around in search of Amos in the throng. Less than a second and you spot him—not because your gaze was drawn to the familiar gold color of your own House, but because of the wall of stark scarlet standing before him. 

Blackwoods. Two of them on either side of the Raventree heir. 

And Benji—his hands pressed to your brother's chest, roughly shoving him back into one of your cousins. 

“Do me a favor,” Elmo's sigh cuts through your panicked haze. “Keep the two of them from plunging a sword in the others’ belly, would you?” 

Any other time and you might have told Elmo off, cursed him for putting you in this position—future Lord Paramount be damned. 

But not now. Not when centuries of rivalry serve as proof that nothing is more dangerous, more unpredictable than this—

A Blackwood and a Bracken—your brother and Benji—standing toe-to-toe. 

Mindless adrenaline is all that thrusts you into motion. Mud splatters up the legs of your trousers as you practically run in their direction, demanding as soon as you’re in ear shot, “What is this?!” 

Amos doesn’t acknowledge you. Neither does Benji. 

Chests-puffed, they remain locked in their foolish staring match, neither of them willing to be the first to back down. 

Finally, one of your cousins sneers, “Seems that Benji-boy here thinks we’re gonna let him take you out into the woods.” 

A sharp, nasty laugh rips from Amos’s throat. “As if I’d let that happen!” 

“We’re partnered for the hunt, you imbecile.” Benji’s tone is that of lethal calm, even as he glares down his nose at your brother. You look to his chest—spotting the silver dahlia pinned at his breast. “If you have a problem with it, take it up with Tully.” 

“You think I’m stupid, Blackwood?!” 

Benji’s brow lifts a fraction of an inch, as if silently proclaiming—I just said so, did I not? 

Scowling, Amos juts his finger against Benji’s chest. “I refuse to give a Blackwood an opportunity to defile my sister!” 

Benji’s answering grin is something wicked as he purrs, “Oh, if I wanted to defile your sister, Bracken, I could’ve done so a long time ago.” 

Your pulse pounds—caught somewhere between offense and desire as Benji’s words echo in your head. 

Both feelings fade to fear when Amos reaches for the hilt of his sword, wrenching it from the sheath at his hip. In a blink, more weapons are drawn—your cousins holding swords, the Blackwoods holding daggers. 

Not Benji, though. 

Benji doesn’t flinch, even with your brother's sword poised at his throat, ready to kill. Something flickers in his eyes—a shift that you know all too well, sending ice skittering across your bones. 

“I won’t have this,” Amos seethes. “You will find another partner—or I swear on my House that blood will be shed!” 

Benji leans closer. Let the tip of the blade dig into his flesh, a rivulet of blood rolling down his throat. 

Red. 

“Is that a threat, Bracken?” 

You can hear your brother swallow—feel his panic as if it were your own, as if it was his fear coursing through your veins. Still, his voice remains steady. “Consider it a promise, Blackwood.” 

A blink and steel was glinting before your eyes. A single breath and Amos was out-maneuvered and out-matched—the clash erupting and subsiding in one seamless heartbeat, ending with your brother's sword in Benji’s hand. 

A shuddering breath slips from your brother's lips as Benji presses the steel to his throat, a perfect mirror of the position they were in just moments ago. 

“What’s the matter, Bracken?” Benji croons sarcastically, head hilting. “Do I frighten you?” 

There’s a lull to his voice—an eerie stillness that sends a chill scuttering down your spine. 

Amos was ignorant—to pick a fight with Benji, to think he might actually win it. But he’s your brother, too—and you know that if he were to be slain right now—right here—an even larger chasm will take the place of the one you were once meant to bridge. 

“Stop.” 

The demand is no more than a breath. A soft, terrified sound. 

Yet still, it makes Benji’s focus waver. 

“Leave him.” You force yourself to speak louder. Stronger. “Now.” 

You take a step closer—a hand outstretched, reaching towards Benji. His attention shifts, settling on you. He blinks—his stormy eyes, dark with rage, finally starting to clear. 

Benji’s movements languid as he steps away from your brother. Your cousins rush to Amos’s side as he stumbles back, frantically checking the heir of Stone Hedge for any sign of injury. 

They found none. Not even a scratch upon his throat, where his own sword had just hovered. 

Benji passes you the sword—a silent conversation passing between the two of you. 

You could have killed him, you glare. 

I could have—Benji agrees with a small, self-satisfied smile��but I didn’t. 

One of your cousins, bold and stupid, steps forward. “Is that all it takes to keep you at heel, Blackwood?” He glances between the two of you, his lip curling into a sneer. “A dog and his bitch,” he taunts, “how sweet–” 

A cry rips from his throat, cutting his insult short. You expect it to be Benji, having noticed the way his fists had clenched from the moment your cousin so much as looked at you. And perhaps it would’ve been—if your brother hadn’t grabbed the fool by the scruff of his neck, yanking him backwards and shoving him to the muddy ground. 

“Say what you want of him,” Amos tells your cousin, his voice gruff, “but you will mind how you speak of her.” 

You don’t know what to make of that. Of Amos defending you. Of knowing that if he hadn’t, Benji would have. Or that, even after that, Amos doesn’t quite know how to look you in the eyes, looking to the grass and the sky and anything that isn’t you. 

You’re a Bracken, through-and-through. Take pride in that. 

But did he take pride in you? 

If you wish to impress Lord Tully, you might think twice about sending her. 

“What’s done is done.” With a pointed look towards Lord Grover’s tent off in the distance, you say, “Now is not the time nor the place. If you wish so badly to fight, save it for when the war begins.” 

On one side of you, Benji remains silent, watching you with a curious glint in his eye. On the other, Amos hesitates. 

“I don’t trust him,” he says. 

You wonder if he doesn’t know how to say: I’m worried about you. 

“You heard our father,” you tell him, chin high, “when it comes to a bow and arrow, no one’s a better shot.” 

Perhaps there are things you don’t know how to say, too. Like: But I do. I trust him with my life. Maybe even with yours, too. 

Begrudgingly, Benji meets your brother's gaze, fighting the urge to scowl at him. “For years, no harm befell your sister under my watch—and you have my word that none shall befall her now,” he vows. “I swear it upon the Old Gods.” 

“And the New?” 

You consider stomping on Amos’s foot. 

Ignorant. To continue pushing— 

“Fine.” Benji’s brusque answer takes you by surprise. “Upon your false Gods as well, then.” 

Amos, to his credit, argues no further, only echoing the Raventree heir. “Fine.” 

For a fleeting moment longer, they stand there, eyes locked. Amos is the first to turn—the roaring tension dissipating into a hushed hiss as him and your cousins storm off. Benji stays, even as his own men begin to back off, as if listening to a silent command to go find their own partners. 

You look at him. And he smiles—a shy, awkward thing. 

“I’ll wait for you,” he says, a barely perceptible pause in his speech. “At the edge of camp—you can find me whenever you’ve gathered your things.” 

You open your mouth to speak, to say something—but the words take root in your chest, leaving vines to crawl up your throat. If you speak, you worry about what might come out. Worry it won’t be as delicate as the dahlia pinned above your heart—above his, too. 

So you close your mouth. Say nothing. Nod—and turn, trying to keep your legs from shaking as you walk back to the makeshift paddock to get what you would need for the hunt. 

True to his word, you find the heir of Raventree at the edge of camp, leaning against a towering oak and using the tip of his dagger to idly pick dirt from his nails. 

You brought only what was necessary—your bow, strapped between your shoulders, and a dark-leather quiver slung over your shoulder, stocked with already-sharpened arrows. 

Light rain mists over your face, the sky groaning with a low rumble of thunder. The forest floor squelches beneath your feet as you trudge towards him. Forever on-guard, Benji wastes no time in pushing himself off the tree, adjusting the dagger in his palm so that it can be easily plunged into another's belly if necessary. 

But then he sees you, dressed in Bracken gold with damp hair sticking to your cheeks, and looses a breath. Relaxing at the sight of you—his rival, according to centuries of precedent. Your rival, too, you suppose. 

Benji doesn’t look like your rival, though. 

Sheathing his dagger at his hip, you see no trace of the lethal Lord who, mere moments ago, was willing to go head-to-head with the heir to Stone Hedge. This boy—stuffing his hands in his pockets, a light flush crawling up his throat—is not Benjicot Blackwood, the heir of Raventree Hall. 

He’s just Benji. 

“Ready to go?” He asks when you’re closer, his voice a familiar caress so unlike the eerie lull it held earlier. 

It takes everything in you to erect an icy wall around your heart, colder even than Northern winds. You shove past him, your shoulder knocking into his as you go and earning a perplexed stare. “Let’s get this over with,” you snap, plunging into the depths of the Woods and leaving him to follow behind. 

Ten minutes pass. Twenty. 

Dusk crept swiftly through the Riverlands, casting a pall shadow over the Whispering Woods. Overhead, dark clouds seem to grow thicker, obscuring what little light the moon has to offer. 

A fool’s errand. An impossible task. 

That is what Elmo Tully had arranged—not a hunt. 

With the sun hidden beyond the horizon and a near-constant rumble of thunder, any animal in these Woods would either be asleep or hiding by now, trying to escape the incoming storm. To find a trophy to bring back to camp—even something as simple as a hare—was unlikely. 

Still, knowing the guards won’t let you back in without one, you keep walking. Keep plunging further into the Woods, praying to the Gods that you might find something to take back to camp. 

Twigs snap a few paces behind you, wet foliage squelching beneath purposefully heavy steps. A low, careless whistle tests your patience. 

With your bow hanging from your hand, you grumble, “You’re being too loud.” 

Benji feigns innocence. “Am I?” 

“Yes,” you hiss through gritted teeth, never slowing your pace. “Be quiet—unless you wish to scare off any game and spend the night sleeping on wet soil.” 

He chuckles—loudly. “Have you looked up lately?” Benji asks. “The sky looks as if it’ll crack open any minute now! Any animal with sense is hiding right now, anyway.” 

True. 

“Then we find one without sense, then.” 

Benji snorts. “The only thing without sense in this forest is Amos Bracken.” 

Without warning, you stop dead in your tracks—leaving Benji to nearly stumble into you. You cast a glare over your shoulder, cold enough that a chill seeps right into his bones. “You’d do well to keep quiet, Benjicot.” 

His lip curls, revealing a flash of slightly crooked teeth. “And since when do you call me Benjicot?” He asks, a ribbon of disbelief lacing his own name. 

Your jaw tenses, a muscle feathering there. 

I don’t know, you think, a pang of uncertainty cracking the ice wall around your heart. 

You reinforce ice with steel—turning fully now so that you’re face-to-face, dropping your bow to the ground by your feet. “I won’t let you speak of him that way,” you say, ignoring his question. “My brother is the heir to Stone Hedge–” 

A bemused laugh cuts through your words. “Oh, he’s your brother now, is he?” 

You speak over him, voice rising. “To insult him is to insult the whole of House Bracken–” 

“Fuck House Bracken,” Benji growls. 

He takes a half-step closer, towering over you with no more than a foot between you. You don’t falter—don’t look away. 

“I am a Bracken."

His head tilts. “Are you? Last I checked, you were practically raised on Blackwood soil.” 

“Perhaps,” you admit. “But my wardship is over–” 

Benji cuts you off. “Tell me, where was your brother all these years, then? Your father?” He doesn’t let you answer. “No more than a brisk-fucking-walk separating you and yet neither one of them cared to visit with the forgotten daughter of Stone Hedge!” 

You’re a Bracken—

“You don’t know them,” you protest weakly, your resolve crumbling. 

—through-and-through. 

“And you do?” He challenges. Another step, his chest inches from yours. Warmth radiates from his body, seeping into yours and melting melting melting. “Why did your father call you home?” 

His words are no more than a breath fanning across your cheek. 

Vulnerability permeates your gaze, bearing an unspoken truth. Because war is coming, you convey with no more than a flicker of your lashes, and fate has already decided my role in it. 

Benji’s lips tighten to a thin line—and you would’ve thought him ashamed of you, if not for the pain glimmering in his stormy-eyes, lined with silver. “Your father,” he utters, “he will declare for Aegon Targaryen—won’t he?” 

You’re a Bracken—

You debate the merits of telling him the truth. Of betraying the plans of your house. 

—Take pride in that. 

“Aegon Targaryen is the King’s true-born son.” You speak, though you know the words are not your own. “To sit the Iron Throne is his birthright.” 

The birthright of a drunken craven. 

The betrayal of a beloved princess. 

Benji blinks. Shakes his head, his tongue darting along his lips. “He called you home to fight. Humfrey Bracken’s forgotten daughter—useful at long last.” 

Rage coils in his tone. Instinct makes your muscles tense. 

Nothing is more dangerous than this, your thoughts whisper, a Blackwood and a Bracken, toe-to-toe. 

There’s nothing dangerous about the way Benji’s looking at you, though. His gaze soft and tender, calloused hands clenched at his sides—holding himself back, you realize. Not from fighting, but from reaching out to touch something he’s not certain is his. 

“Will you do it?” Benji asks, hesitant. “Will you fight for the pretender?” 

I don’t want to, you think. 

It’s your brother's words that slip past your lips. “I have no choice. My blood runs gold, Benji—a Bracken, through-and-through.” 

His brow furrows. Then a hand shifts to the sheath at his hip, sliding his dagger free. “Give me your hand,” he orders, nodding to where they hang at your sides. 

You remember his vow to your brother—that he would let no harm befall you. Even without it, you would’ve trusted him. Wholly. Unconditionally. 

You lift your hand and, without hesitation, he grips it on his own, pinning the steel tip of his dagger against your palm. 

You hiss—hand stinging as the blade drags along your flesh, leaving a thin, shallow cut. 

“You’ve always had one foot on either side of the boundary,” Benji starts, his words rushed. Carelessly tossing the dagger to the ground, he grabs your wrist tightly, lifting your palm up towards your own face. “But your blood,” he tells you, his eyes desperate, “has always run red.” 

It drips down your wrist—a rivulet of crimson, spilling between his knuckles as he refuses to let go. Red as the color of his tunic—as the specks of blood dried on his own throat, drawn by your brother's sword. 

Gold on your back. Red in your veins. 

A Bracken by name, but… 

“It’s not too late,” Benji says, his words slow and cautious, still cradling your hand in his. “You can come back to Raventree.” Thunder rumbles. Storm-cloud eyes fall to your lips. “You can come home.” 

You think of Amos. Of your brother. You’re home now, he had said, a shadow of love in his eyes, Be glad for it. 

But home was ancient stone, crawling with moss. Home was the deep, muddy moat that you always threatened to push Benji into when he was getting on your nerves. Home was Black Aly’s voice, scolding you whenever your arms were still too weak to string a bow. 

Home was a dead weirwood tree and a boy with stormy eyes. 

But duty… 

That was something else entirely. 

Closing your hand around Benji’s, your chest fills with water as the last of the ice melts. Hard steel turns impossibly soft, your feet shuffling until your body is flush against his—still-entwined hands pinned between your chest, trapped between fabrics of gold and red. 

Benji leans down, his forehead pressing against yours. There’s nothing dangerous about him. Nothing unpredictable. 

You know him—from the crook in his nose to the scar above his lip. From the lull of his voice to the weight of his steps. His quick temper and his shy smiles. 

High above, the sky cries out. Thunder booms, lightning cracks. Misty rain turns to a violent downpour. 

And he leans in, oh-so carefully. A trembling breath against slick skin, chapped lips hovering over yours. 

“You can come home,” Benji whispers, repeating himself. You can’t think—can’t breathe, as he utters against your mouth, “Let me take you home.” 

And he kisses you. A tender, desperate kiss—the kind that drives your lips apart with the sheer force of it. He tugs his hand from yours, slips it out from between your bodies and brings it to rest on the back of your neck, tangling his fingers in damp, rain-soaked hair. 

Restraint is no more than a breath in the wind. Desire curls in your stomach. Your pulse pounds in your veins, rich with red red red. 

But then there’s your brother’s voice in your head: I don’t trust him. 

And you know what he meant was: You’re my sister—my blood, red or gold—and I’m worried about you. 

You pull away, breathless and broken, one half of your heart lying on either side of the boundary stones resting miles and miles from here. 

Lips still close enough to brush against yours, Benji pants. “Say yes.” The love in his eyes isn’t a shadow. It’s a bright, blinding light. A proud declaration and a howling plea. “Say you’ll come home.” 

You look down—to the sigil embroidered on your tunic, to the still-drying blood on your palm 

An estranged brother and a forbidden lover. 

And you. 

The bridge to a great chasm. 

The futile remedy to centuries of enmity. 

You take a step back—reaching inside of yourself, pulling shriveled vines up your throat, knowing that the words hammering in your chest will be anything but delicate. That they’ll taste of rot in your mouth. 

“I’m not sure I have a home, Benjicot.” Pain echoes across his face, each syllable a rusted dagger in his heart. Another step back, grabbing your bow from where it laid in the mud, abandoned what feels like a millennia ago. “Not anymore.” 

When you turn to leave, thunder crashing overhead and a sob caught in your throat, you go alone.

The heir to Raventree Hall doesn’t dare to follow. 

You walk in silence, your bow hanging at your side. Behind you, there are no snapping twigs and no low, careless whistling. There’s only rain and—

A branch creaks overhead, halting your steps. Your bow is drawn in a single breath, the cut on your palm stinging as you  slide an arrow from the quiver slung over your shoulder, readying to shoot. You look up, drops of rain splattering against your cheeks as you scan the trees. 

There. 

Perched on a wet, mossy limb was a pair of beady eyes staring down at you. A raven, letting out a low, curious croak. 

A single shot and you could go back to camp. 

A single shot, you tell yourself, and your blood might finally run gold. 

A breath—and then the bow string goes slack. 

You slip the arrow back into the quiver.

a/n - does any of this even make sense? idk, you tell me lmao. overall, just wanted to play around with capturing the confusion that might ensue for a reader who has no clue where their loyalties lie anymore, lost in who they are and who they think they're meant to be--anyways, hopefully the ending makes sense to you because it makes sense in my brain

anyways

benji tag list (so sorry if I missed you!) - @jacaerysgf @lenasvoid @valdezthg @xzydra11 @snixx2088 @lianna75 @kennafild @ghostinvenus @heystaystray @but-i-write-so-i-must-count @a-song-for-ages

[skzdarlings]

chill | the threesome series ; skz ; hyunjin/reader/jeongin

masterlist.

threesome series part 4/4. long awaited finale lol.

summary: when a lie about a fake boyfriend spirals out of control, your friends take it upon themselves to help.

pairing: hyunjin/reader/jeongin content info: friends to lovers romcom. fake relationship trope. sharing a bed trope. lots of teasing and bickering and indignant exclamations. some bossy dom!hyunjin and sweet jeongin. reader is described with a bigger chest. kissing w people watching. sex toys, dacryphilia, no mention of protection, threesome, explicit sexual content word count: 8440 words.

enjoy <3

-

Your bottom lip is already wobbling when you click call.   You sprawl on your belly, front-down in a frilly pink bed in your childhood bedroom.  You are visiting your parents in the countryside, miles away from your apartment in the city and miles away from your best friends. 

You are calling them now, desperate for their friendly faces.  Your boys are the first ones you call in any crisis.  You don’t know what you would do without them.  Just the thought has you sniffling despondently. 

After a few more rings, Jeongin and Hyunjin answer one right after the other.  Your phone is filled with three little squares of faces, theirs smiling and yours utterly miserable.      

You look at those smiles and promptly burst into tears. 

“Ahh!” Hyunjin wails. 

“Ohh, whoa, what!” Jeongin says.

Both of them look concerned, all scrunched up brows and frowning faces.  At least you think so.  It is hard to see through your tears. 

“Baby, baby,” Hyunjin says.  At the same time, Jeongin asks, “What’s wrong?”

You cry a few more weepy sobs, then you grab the closest teddy bear and wipe your eyes on it.  You sniffle and pout. 

Even though you want their comfort, you can’t bring yourself to look at your friends when you admit, “I’ve been lying to my parents for months.” 

“What?” Hyunjin asks. 

“Huh?”  Jeongin says.

You blink away your tears and look at them properly.  They are the very picture of concern.  They have such striking faces so their emotions are always so plain, their features sharp, with thick dark brows and sloping cheeks and full lips.  Jeongin dyed his hair a fairer auburn a while ago, but Hyunjin is dark, both of them so handsome it makes you hiccup on a caught breath.  

These thoughts make you feel even more pathetic.  Here you are, gawking at your best friends while everything falls apart around you. 

You drop your face and cry some more.  They watch helplessly through their screens, saying your name and trying to calm you down. 

“What happened?” Hyunjin asks when your tears have slowed. 

“Remember a few months ago, when I went out with that guy who works at the coffee shop?”

“Yes, I hated him,” Jeongin says in a clipped tone while Hyunjin scoffs. 

“Me too,” Hyunjin says.  Their sour faces speak volumes. 

“What!”  This distracts you from yours tears for a moment.  “You guys told me you liked him!”

“Yeah, only because you did,” Jeongin says.  He is in his bedroom and he flops back on his bed, his mop of hair forming a charming halo around his head.  He grins that dimpled, mischievous grin at you.  “But now you don’t like him, so we hate him.”

“I always hated him,” Hyunjin says.  He is sitting at his desk, lit so prettily by lamplight that it looks like a dreamy filter.  He props his face in his hand and pouts dramatically.  “You didn’t need him anyway, baby,” he says.  “You’ve always got us.” 

At the same time Hyunjin says this, Jeongin tucks a hand under his head.  He is wearing a sleeveless top and his bicep flexes where his bare arm curves.  Between Hyunjin’s pretty face and prettier words, and Jeongin looking like that, it is no wonder how quickly heat rushes to your face. 

You bury your face in the blankets and shriek, frustrated with everything in your ridiculous life.  They are still looking at you with concern when you surface. 

“Sorry,” you say.  “The point is, my mom would ask about him.  You know what my parents are like and how much they want me to be in a relationship.” 

You love your family, you do.  You do not regret using visiting your parents.  The dinners and tea times and game nights have been a delight.  You have been proud to catch them up on your life in the city.  You are happy with your life, your education and your job and your friends.  Your parents are proud of you. 

They just cannot help but poke that one little detail, snagging like a loose thread on a nail and unravelling your careful composition with their obvious judgement. 

You are not in a relationship.  You have never been in a relationship.

Oh, sure, there have been dates scattered here and there, but nothing serious.  You are fine with this but your parents consider this cause for catastrophic levels of concern. 

You try to show grace.  Your family is only nosy out of misplaced worries, convinced that if you do not have a boyfriend then you must sobbing yourself to sleep every night.  Which is not true.  Well, sometimes it’s true, especially because your two best friends are the ones making your heart race, but most of the time you just eat cheese toast in bed. 

To assuage the worst of their concerns, you maybe exaggerated the truth a teensy tiny bit. 

“Well,” you say, “They were so happy that I went on more than one date, so it got them off my case for a while.  After we went our separate ways, I sort of just… kept telling them… I was still seeing him…”

“Uh oh,” Jeongin says.  Hyunjin grimaces.  Yeah, your friends know you well.  They have never met your family but they know the stories and they can guess where this is going. 

“Yeah, uh oh is right,” you say.  “My mom invited me out here for their summer party.  They throw one every year to start the season.  They invite the whole family and all their friends and their friends’ kids.  It’s huge.  I wasn’t even thinking when I said I would come because I always do.  Only when I agreed did my mom tell me to bring my boyfriend for everyone to meet… at which point I remembered…”

“That you don’t actually have a boyfriend?”  Jeongin asks with a quirked eyebrow.  Hyunjin laughs, covering his mouth with a quick slap of his hand to hide it. 

“Don’t laugh at me!” you say with a miserable whine.  “It’s not funny.  I messed up and now I don’t know what to tell them!”

“What did you tell them so far?” Jeongin asks while Hyunjin tries to get his face under control. 

“I was going to tell them the truth when I got here,” you say.  “But then they were so disappointed that my boyfriend wasn’t with me.  I couldn’t disappoint them even more by saying he didn’t exist at all in the first place!” 

“So you told a bigger lie instead,” Hyunjin says, tilting his head questioningly.  “What did you say exactly?” 

“I just said he was busy with work,” you say.  “And they were really upset about it so I tried to cheer them up.  I said he was going to try and make it to the party at least.” 

“But he’s not real,” Jeongin says. 

“Yes, Jeongin!” you squeal.  “That’s the problem!  And also—”  A flood of tears return, blurring your vision again.  “I know it’s so stupid.  We’re all grown-ups now.  But I was the youngest out of all the kids growing up, so I was always the dumb little tag-along.  My mom has told everyone I have a boyfriend coming and if I make up an excuse tomorrow, they’re all gonna see through it.  They’ll be nice to my face because we aren’t kids anymore but I already know they’re gonna talk about me and how pathetic I am.”  You start crying again, looking around at the bedroom you grew up in, still filled with the books and clothes and toys you left behind after moving.  It makes you feel like that little girl again.  It only worsens your angst.  “Tomorrow is going to be the worst day of my life,” you say. 

“Aw, no, no, it won’t,” Jeongin says. 

“Hey, baby, don’t cry,” Hyunjin also says.  They both speak in the sweetest tones imaginable, gazing so lovingly into their cameras it makes you melt. 

“You know you’re better than that,” Jeongin says.    

“Yeah, who cares what they think?” Hyunjin adds. 

“I care,” you say in a small voice, looking away again because you feel so embarrassed.  “At least a little bit.  I know it’s silly.” 

“It’s not,” Hyunjin says.  At the same Jeongin says, “It is but it’s fine.”  They both scowl at the camera as if frowning at each other.  It makes you laugh through your tears.  You wipe your eyes on the teddy bear again. 

“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” you say.  “I just have to face it.  It’s my own fault.  Maybe if I could just get a boyfriend for real, if I didn’t suck so much—”

“You’re perfect,” they say in unison.  It seems to make all three of you look flustered at once. 

“Seriously,” Hyunjin says while Jeongin clears his throat.  “You’re our girl.”

“Yeah, everyone is else is just stupid,” Jeongin says. 

“You only need to listen to us,” Hyunjin says. 

“Listen to me, not him,” Jeongin teases.  “He’s kinda stupid too.”

“Excuse me,” Hyunjin says in a perfectly catty voice.  Jeongin sticks his tongue out. 

Their antics make you laugh.  You rest your cheek on the teddy bear and kick your legs behind you, smiling into your screen. 

“Okay,” you say.  “In that case, just distract me until I go to bed.  It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.” 

They both smile at you.  They waste no time obliging, launching into stories and playful bickering, making you forget about everyone and everything else.  They are your boys.  They are all you need. 

You go to bed with a smile on your face.

-

That smile is gone the next day.  You are a bundle of raw nerves all morning.  Despite the food being prepared, you cannot imagine eating, so sick to your stomach with anxiety.  Your parents ask about your boyfriend and you answer in vague replies and half-promises.  You claim he is still working but you are optimistic.  You cry your make-up off only once, which is ten times less than you thought you would. 

At least you look pretty.  You bought a new dress for the occasion, a pretty floral piece that sweeps the floor with a delicate swish.  If you are going to suffer, at least you will suffer beautifully. 

You are standing in front of the mirror, practicing lines and excuses and grimacing at all of them.  You are interrupted when your mother calls you downstairs, the first of the guests arriving.

Here goes nothing, you think. 

You take a deep gulp of air and descend the stairs, plastering a big fake smile on your face as you greet the party guests. 

They come in waves.  Cousins, aunts, uncles, neighbours, friends.  You greet everyone pleasantly.  There are so many people and so many conversations that you manage to sink into the background of every discussion, batting queries about your own private life with questions for someone else. 

You start to wonder if you worried for nothing, then someone directly asks about your boyfriend.  Not just someone, but one of the girls in your age group. 

“Your mother didn’t know much, she said you were quite evasive about it!” she says.  She is not being unkind because she currently has no reason to believe you are lying.  It will be later, when everyone realizes this mystery man is not manifesting, then everyone will start to gossip and draw conclusions.  This is just the beginning of a long, agonizing party.  “Is he going to be here?” she asks.  “I can’t wait to meet him!  He’s your first boyfriend, right?” 

You love your mom, but she really is such a blabbermouth. 

You laugh awkwardly, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. 

“Ha-ha, yeah, I was, um, just waiting for the, uh, right person, you know,” you say. 

Someone else opens their mouth to ask more when the doorbell rings.  

“Oh, I better get that!” you say and leap out of your seat.  You give no one a chance to protest, scampering around bodies to get out of the backyard and into the house.  You run past your father who is ambling to the door, telling him you got it.  You want to let the guest inside then stand in the front yard to catch your breath.  Hopefully, by the time you go back, the conversation will have moved on. 

You swing open the door, a polite greeting on your lips.  It catches when you see who is standing there.

“Jeongin!” you exclaim. 

Your best friend is standing on your porch, grinning that big cheshire cat smile. He is an absurdly sexy vision.  Jeongin is a tech guy but he takes modelling gigs on the side, fashion a personal hobby to him.  His auburn hair is neatly styled around his face, a slash of colour in an otherwise all-black look.  It makes him look long and fit, loose pants and a dress shirt over a sleeveless top, topped with a leather jacket.  A silver chain sparkles around his neck. 

He swoops in and kisses your cheek, giggling to himself. 

“I heard someone needed a boyfriend,” he says. 

You laugh a little hysterically, all the joy returning to your body in a rush.  You slap your hands on your hot cheeks and look him up-and-down. 

“Oh, wow,” you say.  “You shouldn’t have.  But you look really good.”

Your eyes are on the tip of his black boots.  He is looking at you too, his eyebrows lifted as his gaze travels down your body. 

“Yeah,” he says on a breath.  “You too.”

Flustered, you cover yourself then swat at him.  It makes him grin again, cheek dimpled. 

“Stop that,” you say.  “You’re not allowed to say things like that to me.  And I’ve been sweating like a stuck pig under here.  I feel like I should do the grown-up thing and come clean and send you away, but I’m not gonna do that. Come on.”  You loop your arm with his elbow and drag him through the house to the back yard. 

Seconds before joining the party, he leans in to whisper in your ear, “Then as your boyfriend, I’m allowed to tell you that you looking really fucking good.  Okay?” 

You very literally fall into the yard.  Fortunately, Jeongin keeps his balance and yanks you upright.  You stumble into his open arms, your back plastered to his chest.  He is probably smiling that big grin at everyone as he keeps his arms around you.

“Hi,” he finally says and offers a little wave. 

“Ahhh!” your mother screams more gleefully than a clown horn.  She immediately starts hollering for your father. 

“He’s inside getting some food ready, mom,” you say, covering your face in embarrassment as she scuttles up to you. 

“My goodness, my goodness,” your mother says, all but throwing you to the side to get to Jeongin.  “Oh, I’ve heard so much.  No, actually, that’s not true, I haven’t heard anything.  Tsk, crazy girl.  Always with her secrets.  But look at you, oh my, you’re so handsome!  Look at those dimples.”

“Mom!” you wail.  “Stop pinching his cheeks!” 

Someone sitting nearby tugs your skirt.  It is the girl from before and she is grinning.  He’s hot, she mouths very blatantly, winking at you.  You smile an awkward, too-wide grin, still more embarrassed than not.  Everyone is chattering, looking at you and Jeongin.  A couple others smile and give you a thumbs up.  You pretend to be very preoccupied with a speck on your dress, focussed on scratching it off so you do not have to meet any eyes. 

In the midst of all the madness, the doorbell rings again.  You hear your father inside, shouting that he will get it.

“Oh, hurry up!” your mother shouts.  “You have to meet—oh goodness, what is your name?” she asks, even while she has a hand in his hair. 

“Ha, ah, Jeongin,” he says, managing to politely extricate himself.  He takes her hand and pats it affectionately.  “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says, then winks at you.  Your mother looks at you with a delighted smile.  You refrain from smacking your forehead. 

At least things can’t get worse, you think, right before things get worse. 

Your father steps into the yard, smiling a big smile. 

“Ah, my little girl!” he says, waving at you.  “Your boyfriend is here!  Everybody, this is Hyunjin.” 

Your heart was racing with adrenaline a moment ago.  Now, it freezes solid.  It feels like a cement block dropping right into your gut.  You are not sure if the entire party actually goes quiet or if your ears just give up to protect you. 

You are helpless, standing stock still as your other best friend steps onto the deck behind your father.  Coincidentally and preposterously, he is dressed almost identical to Jeongin, all in black with a black leather jacket.  He is wearing sunglasses, though, which he pushes onto the top of his head when he sees Jeongin. 

Jeongin stares back at him, then he looks at you.  Hyunjin looks at you.  Your mother looks at you.  Everyone looks at you.

“Um,” you squeak.  

Wow, that speck on your dress really is so very interesting.  And why is it so hard to swallow?  Where is your tongue again?  Oh, why did you ever have to tell such a stupid lie, just for a few moments of convenience.

You clear your throat and look up.  Your voice comes in a croak when you say, “Hi, Hyunjin.” 

“Hyunjin,” your mother says, looking at him.  He blinks at her.  Jeongin is handsome but Hyunjin is the definitive pretty boy, an artist behind the camera but just as suited to a life in the spotlight.  His artistic soul really shines through in every capacity.  Even his smile is a work of art, delicate and sweet as he looks at your mother.  He would have made a perfect fake boyfriend if you didn’t already have one. 

Somehow you went from no boyfriends to two.  No, not even, because they are fake.  You went from no boyfriends to negative-two boyfriends.  That must be a feat. 

“Ohhhh,” your mother suddenly interrupts the silence.  She starts giggling as she tip-toes to Hyunjin like a panther about to pounce.  “I see what’s happening,” she says, looking slyly between the three of you.  Then she grabs Hyunjin by the cheeks as well, shaking him around like a baby rattle.  “My little girl has TWO handsome boyfriends!” she cries out ecstatically.  “Oh, that’s just like her too.  You know, she was a late bloomer in every respect, but always caught up and surpassed everyone after the fact.  Struggled at school when she was little, then grew up and got herself on the dean’s list at university.  You know she didn’t even grow breasts until she was eighteen then ballooned right up, the biggest you’ve seen!”

“Mom!”

Jeongin and Hyunjin look at your chest at the same time.  You wrap your arms around yourself and frown, making them both clear their throat and look away. 

“Oh, sweetie,” your mother says, finally freeing Hyunjin.  He and Jeongin stand together, rubbing their cheeks.  They watch as your mother takes your hand.  “I understand now why you were to hesitant to give us any details.  But it’s a brave new world.  There’s all sorts of different loves out there.  I’ve been reading books!” 

“Exactly,” your father says, joining you in the middle of the party.  “We would never judge you for who you love.”

“That’s great,” you say.  This conversation would be really sweet if it wasn’t about your negative-two boyfriends and happening in front of fifty people.  “Thanks,” you say. 

Your father is holding barbeque tongs.  He claps them in the air and smiles.

“Great!” he says.  “Who’s hungry!���

-

It isn’t until much later that you get a second alone with Hyunjin and Jeongin.  It is well after dinner when the sun is starting to set and the party has dispersed to different corners of the yard.  Your parents are with some friends, seated around a fire, so you drag your fake boyfriends into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. 

You slam the door shut.   

“Seriously!” you shriek.  “You didn’t think to tell each other you were going to show up to be my fake boyfriend?!” 

They both look chagrined, Jeongin with his arms crossed and Hyunjin rocking on the balls of his feet.  They look at each other with a grimace, then try to smile at you.

“Don’t give me that look,” you say, then groan, leaning against your closed door.  You cover your face with your hands.  “This is insane.  My life is a joke.  Hwang Hyunjin, don’t even think about touching anything.”  You point to Hyunjin even though your eyes are covered.  You don’t need to see him to know he is reaching for something, always sticking his gossipy nose in places it doesn’t belong.  When you drop your hands, you catch him hovering near your head table.  He smiles nervously.  “Sit down,” you say, unamused.   

Jeongin and Hyunjin plop onto the bed at the same time.  They look rather ridiculous in the black and leather, contrasted to all the pink and white lace of your old bedroom.  Ridiculous, yes, and definitely not stupidly sexy.  The contrast between two sexy bad boys and your floral cuteness is absolutely not a turn-on.  It’s not.  No.  No.  You refuse. 

“Sorry,” Jeongin finally says.  “We should have checked first.  With you, at least.”

“Yeah, baby, seriously,” Hyunjin says, shaking his head.  “I feel really embarrassed.  You know we would never want to hurt you, right?”

“You were just crying so much,” Jeongin says. 

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep at all last night,” Hyunjin says.

They keep speaking in their defense.  You start to pout, feeling guilty, because they are so sincere in their apology.  It is very obvious they did not do this to embarrass you.  The complete opposite.  Your friends love you so much and it is obvious in everything they do.  From the day you met them, Jeongin and Hyunjin have happily dropped everything to help you with anything.  No task has ever been too big or too small.  If it’s for you, they will do it.  You are the exception to every rule and the first call every time.  

They are your boys.  You are their girl.   

“I’m sorry too,” you say.  “In fact, I’m even more sorry.  This whole thing is my fault, after all.  I should have never lied in the first place.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jeongin says.

“Yeah, we all do stupid things,” Hyunjin says. 

“It’s not like you knew it would get this bad,” Jeongin adds. 

“I definitely don’t think she predicted this,” Hyunjin quips, looking at him.  It makes Jeongin snort and Hyunjin grins. 

It makes you laugh as well, though you cover your mouth to hide it. 

It’s no good.  Once the first giggle escape, they are relentless.  The three of you laugh until there are tears in your eyes, doubled over as the silly situation washes over you.  When the laughter has somewhat subdued, Hyunjin holds out a hand in offering. 

“Come here,” he says. 

You take his hand and he tugs you towards them.  You find yourself squished between them, framed between their bodies like a little flower.  Jeongin puts a hand on your lower back and Hyunjin brushes his knuckles over your cheek.  Both touches are innocent but the combination has your face heating.

Not just your face.  Heat rushes everywhere, cascading down your chest, swooping in your belly and lower.  Your toes even curl. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Hyunjin says.  He smiles while holding your gaze. “You know we’ll help you no matter what, okay?” 

Jeongin kisses your shoulder and you cannot hide your shiver.

“Okay,” you say in a small voice.    

There is a moment of tense silence after this.  You look between them and they look at you.

You all jump when there is a knock at your door.  Hyunjin falls right off the bed, sprawling in an ungainly clatter of long limbs on the floor.  Jeongin scoots to the side, less dramatic but still surprised.  You sit straighter.  Hyunjin groans and rubs his head. 

The door opens and your mother pokes her head inside, smiling. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says.  “But sweetie, there will be time to be alone with your boyfriends later, since I assume they’re spending the night.  But right now we have company.  Come spend time with the guests.  Some of the others are using the hot tub and pool.  Do you boys need swim trunks? Yes? I’ll go find some, give me a second.”

No one gets an opportunity to even answer.  She closes the door and disappears as quickly as she came. 

There is another beat of silence, then Jeongin says, “We’re spending the night, I guess?” 

“Ow,” Hyunjin says.  “I think I bruised my elbow.”

“Oh my god,” you say.

-

You putter around the poolside until the sun fully sets.  When it gets dark, the pool lights start to flicker in rainbow patterns so the others gravitate there, splashing through the luminescence.   

You and the boys wander to the hot tub while it is empty.  Jeongin sinks right in like he does not even feel the heat while Hyunjin has to make a dramatic show about every inch of skin that touches it.  You and Jeongin look at each other with matching quirked eyebrows.  You smile affectionately. 

“What? It’s hot,” Hyunjin says, finally sitting. 

“That is how they work,” Jeongin replies.    

You giggle but also drop your gaze.  Your mother managed to find swim clothes that would mostly fit the boys.  Jeongin is shirtless in swim trunks, his wet hair slicked back, that handsome face and all those lean muscles on display.  When did he get so damn fit?  He was always athletic in a subtle, svelte way, but his arms and back ripple with definition now. 

Hyunjin is in a wet suit, one that stops at the knee and elbow.  He is more covered but the solid black swimsuit makes him look so long and lean.  His hair is also damp.  You watch as he rakes his fingers through it, tucking it behind his ears.  He really is absurdly good looking. 

You blame the heat under your skin on the jets. 

“Psst,” Jeongin suddenly whispers.  His foot nudges yours under the water.  “Is that them?” he whispers. 

You try to be subtle, turning your head to see who is there.  A few younger people are sitting in some pool chairs under a torch, chatting and occasionally glancing in your direction.  It is a few of the people you grew up with, the ones you told the boys about. 

You nod at Jeongin, smiling shyly.  You look down at your legs through the rippled distortion of water.  You are wearing a simple one-piece, just as pink and floral as your dress, still a contrast to your boys. 

You look at them in time to catch a mutual nod.  You were spread around the hot tub, a reach of space between your bodies, but they slide until they are pressed up on either side of you.  You look between them, curling your hands in nervous fists on your chest. 

“What is it?” you whisper. 

“We’re your boyfriends,” Hyunjin whispers with a smile.  “Shouldn’t we sit close to you?” 

“Oh,” you squeak.  “I suppose that’s true.”  You swallow, looking at him then at Jeongin.  Your heart is pounding against your hands.  The combination of heat and desire is making you more than a little dizzy.  “Wh-what else should we be doing?” you ask before thinking twice.  Vocalizing your internal thought only intensifies your fantasies, your mind supplying plenty of mental images of what you would be doing in this hot tub if they were really your boyfriends. 

Oh, you are definitely getting dizzy, but it is not just the jets. 

Hyunjin and Jeongin look at each other, both of them surprised by your forward question.  Jeongin laughs because that is his instinct, that dimple never shy.  Hyunjin has more of a smirk than a smile.  He pokes his tongue into his cheek and lifts his eyebrows when you look at him.  It is a teasing expression.  It makes you dissolve into nervous giggles, sinking lower into the water. 

He grabs you before you can disappear under the surface.  And it is a grab.  Between Hyunjin and Jeongin, you always suspected Hyunjin would be a gentle lover.  He is so gushy and romantic while Jeongin tends be more frank about things.  But it is Jeongin who gently strokes a hand down your arm, who laces his fingers with yours and squeezes. 

Hyunjin reaches right under the water, stopping your descent with a hand on the back of your neck.  Your eyes widen as he yanks you up, not choking but certainly in control.  Your mouth falls open with surprise.  Much to your embarrassment, you moan before he even kisses you, the sound escaping of its own volition as he tilts his head and leans in. 

Oh, his mouth is gentle even if he is not.  His hand is on your jaw, firm, holding your face where he wants it, but his lips are so soft and warm.  He kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth and sighing against your lips.  You steal a breath as well, your mouth open against his.  That breath catches when Jeongin kisses the nape of your neck, then your shoulder. 

They both have big hands, long fingers, slender but strong.  You melt between them, all heat and need. 

You turn to Jeongin, breathless with desire.  His eyes are dark, lids heavy.  You have never seen such intensity on his usually smiling face. 

You are ready to kiss him when some playful shouts erupt from the audience you forgot about.  “Get it girl!” someone shouts. 

“Oh my god,” you say.  Distracted, you reach behind you, grasping for nothing in particular when you find something, indeed.  Jeongin is rock hard in his swim trunks and your hand brushes the very decent length of him. 

You snap your hand back to yourself, jaw dropping.

“Why are you hard?” you whisper harshly.

“What do you mean, why am I hard?” he whispers back, just as argumentatively.  “We’re all making out in a hot tub.  Of course I’m hard.” 

“Hyunjin’s not hard!” you hiss. 

You look over your shoulder.  Hyunjin is staring up into the air at nothing, looking a little too inconspicuous.

“Hyunjin!” you cry. 

“What?” he returns, also whispering sharply.  “Are you saying you’re not turned on?” 

“I—hmmph—you—no!”

“No?” he asks with a sharp tilt of his head. 

“So,” Jeongin says, drawing your narrowed gaze back to him.  He just smiles at you.  “If we put our hands somewhere here,” his fingers skim your upper thigh and you jump, “we wouldn’t find…?” 

You sputter helplessly but it does no good; you have no retaliation whatsoever.  You look at Hyunjin but he’s no help, just smirking at you.  He wiggles his fingers in a little wave and you feel flushed again. 

“I’m leaving now,” you say and finally sink under the water while they laugh. 

-

You step into your bedroom at the end of a very long day.  The guests have all gone home.  Your parents, for reasons your mother strangely explained, are staying at the neighbour’s house tonight.   You are very aware of the privacy it offers, the air rife with possibility. 

Your boys are in your bed, wearing boxers and sleeveless shirts and bickering about the size of the quilt.  They stop yanking on the blankets when you appear. 

You did not bring much sleepwear.  You figured you would wear the old shirts left behind in this room.  You have outgrown most of them, but that wasn’t a problem with you were sleeping alone.  Now you are wearing old gym shorts that sit very high up your thighs, a little shirt pulled taut across your ample chest, and your friends are staring at you, their previous conversation completely forgotten. 

You cross your arms and stomp to the bed, feigning indifference.  You crawl over a startled Hyunjin to get to the middle, flopping into the little column of space they left for you.

“Good night,” you say. 

Hyunjin turns off the bedside light.  The three of you are laying on top of the covers, on your backs, stiff as boards.  Your arms are still crossed over your chest in a totally unnatural position.  You refuse to look around, counting every little popcorn freckle in the ceiling design. 

“You kissed him,” Jeongin says, his voice so loud in the silence. 

You feel Hyunjin look over, hear the turn of his head on the pillow.  You cast your eyes to either side but do not turn your head.  There is already a skip in your heartbeat and you cannot encourage it. 

“What?” you ask. 

“You kissed him,” Jeongin says.  You feel him roll onto his side, facing you.  “You didn’t kiss me.”

You brace yourself then turn your head, looking at him with every intention of telling him that you did it in the heat of the moment.  But he is gazing you, his head propped up on his arm, that god-forsaken bicep flexed again. 

You shake your head and look at the ceiling.

“Yes, I did,” you say.  “What should we do about it?”

“Kiss him,” Hyunjin says.  You look at him.  He is also propped up, leaning back on his elbow. He looks at you with an expression that offers a challenge, asking, Well? What are you waiting for?      

“Fine,” you say, then slowly turn to Jeongin.  “Only because that’s fair.” 

Jeongin does not hesitate.  He is not as firm Hyunjin but he does not need to be.  Long, steady fingers slide across your shoulder and cup the back of your head.  He draws you into him, kissing your cheek before your lips. 

You quickly lose yourself.  Your eyes close and it feels like taking flight, or maybe falling.  Yes, falling helplessly head over heels.  You have been for a long time. 

You cannot help but make a few wanting sounds.  Jeongin’s body is so different to yours, all hard planes and firm muscle against your softer spots.  His hand finds your waist and he pulls you even closer, kissing you long and slow like he is pacing himself, like he plans to kiss you for hours. 

That hand wanders from your waist, sliding lower until he is cupping your ass.  Your breath catches and the kiss breaks.  He is quick to dive back in, kissing you deeper the second time, his tongue touching yours. 

You grab his arm, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. When he leans in again, Hyunjin reaches out and shoves his shoulder.  Jeongin blinks up at him, surprised. 

“That was two kisses,” Hyunjin says.  “My turn.” 

Hyunjin grabs your shoulder and pulls you onto your back.  You land with a soft thump, still intoxicated from kissing Jeongin. 

You blink up at Hyunjin, your chest heaving with breath as his eyes roam down your body.  His fingers follow the same trail, knuckles at your chin then the curve of your chest.  You arch your back instinctively.  Everything seems to throb when his fingers brush the front of your shorts.  It is a momentary touch, then he is cupping your cheek and turning your face and kissing you. 

Just last night, you were in this bed alone, fantasizing this very thing.  You ended the phone call but you were wide awake, so you put on some music and grabbed your vibrator and lost yourself to the impossible fantasy now entering reality. 

In your fantasies, one or both of them was on top of you.  But Hyunjin surprises you with the opposite, taking hold of your hips and tugging.  You follow his direction clumsily until you are straddling his lap.  He is hard between your legs, holding you there against him while he cups the back of your head and kisses you. 

You can’t believe you thought Hyunjin was a romantic little angel.  He is an absolute demon, rolling his hips under you with the same unhurried pace Jeongin used.  You are so wet and turned-on, so delirious with need, for a second it feels like there is nothing between you, just the hard shape of him against your softness.  But no, there are thin layers of fabric between you, stretched so tight it is like they are not there. 

Jeongin curves his hand over the shape of your ass.  Your shorts are riding up from your position.  He could get an eye-ful at the right angle. 

“You’re so…” he says, but his breath catches like there is no word to do you justice.  It makes you look at him, your eyes locking in intensity. 

It ends when Hyunjin rolls, laying you onto your back again.  Then he sits back, leaving you there in a breathless pant. 

“What do you think about?” he asks.

You make a noise back at him.  It is supposed to be a question but it comes out garbled.  You shake your head, then manage to ask, “Huh?  Think about?”

He sits up and reaches into your bedside drawer.  You come to coherency when he takes out your vibrator. 

“Hyunjin!”  You cannot help but scold him.  “I told you to stay out of there!” 

“You know I like to investigate,” he argues.  “I can’t help it.” 

“Oh my god,” you say, slapping your forehead.  “I swear to god, it’s like being friends with a crow.”

Jeongin sits up too, laughing so much he has to cover his face.  He shakes his head as he comes up for a breath, pushing his hair out of his face. 

“Stop laughing,” you say, even while a few giggles escape. 

Jeongin just grins at you, then he reaches out and touches traces his thumb across your smile. 

“Are you going to answer?” Hyunjin asks. 

You look at him and snatch the vibrator back, clutching it possessively to your chest. 

“That’s none of your business,” you say.

“It could be,” he says, expression getting darker by the second, a playful smile turning to a dirty smirk.  He runs his teeth across his bottom lip then bats his eyelashes.  “If you think about us,” he finishes. 

“I—no—you—”

“It’s fine,” he says.  “It’s normal.  I think about you.” 

“Hyunjin,” you gasp.  You go to whack him with the vibrator then remember what it is.  You hold it against your chest again, embarrassed.  Hot in the face and everywhere else, you sputter more indignantly than you feel, “There’s nothing to think about with me.”

He looks at you like he can’t believe you are serious, his eyes dropping down your body then back up.  He laughs, covering a hand over his mouth. 

“Last night I thought plenty,” he says with a wave of his hand. “I wondered if you could come so hard it would make you cry.  I bet you’d look pretty.” 

You swallow hard.  Your hands are getting clammy, clutching the toy.  You cannot even fake any indignance, so turned on it is making your head spin. 

“That’s rude,” you say in a rasping voice, “I was crying and you were—”

“I waited to touch myself, thank you,” he teases. 

“Jeongin wouldn’t do that,” you say, looking back at him.  He is staring up at the ceiling, blinking too quickly and too innocently.  “Jeongin!” you exclaim. 

Hyunjin laughs some more, a gleeful little cackle behind his hand.  You huff dramatically, trying and failing to frown at them. 

“My friends are perverts,” you say. 

Hyunjin is reclining in an insouciant slouch.  Jeongin is sitting upright behind you.  You look between them as they look at each other, seemingly conversing through nothing but a series of blinks.  Jeongin smiles first, winking at you when you meet his eye.  He is holding your gaze when Hyunjin moves, smooth and quick.  They crowd you, one on either side, each with a hand on your thigh. 

You make a noise, a surprised little whimper as you spill onto your back.  You clutch the toy for dear life as Jeongin strokes your inner thigh and Hyunjin’s long fingers trace your waistband.  You gasp when Hyunjin slides right in, under your shorts but over your underwear.  You are so turned on that there is no hiding it, the fabric wet under his searching fingers.

“Takes one to know one,” he says with a smile.  “Maybe that’s why we’re friends.” 

“I don’t think we’re just friends,” Jeongin says while sliding the toy out of your hands.  He turns it on and your clit pulses under Hyunjin’s fingers, trained to react to the noise. 

Hyunjin laughs, his breath on your neck.  He moves his hand while Jeongin presses the toy between your legs, over your shorts and panties but nonetheless immediately effective.  You squirm a little.  The onslaught of sensation has your thighs twitching to close. 

The boys shuffle quickly.  You find yourself sitting between Jeongin’s legs, your back against his chest.  Hyunjin kneels in front of you, holding your legs open so you cannot escape the toy’s blissful torture.  You can feel an orgasm winding up ridiculously fast.  You have not had a proper relationship but you have fooled around, but it was never like this.  Even by yourself with a toy, an orgasm would take time.  You have a breath to realize you are going to come, hard, legs spread for your boys.

It hits you quickly but deeply, rolling vibrations of pleasure that have you rearing up.  You start to cry out and Jeongin covers your mouth even though you are alone, catching the sound in his palm.   He holds the toy with his other hand, keeping it in place while Hyunjin holds your legs so you feel every tingling second of aftershocks. 

When you whine into his palm, Jeongin lets you go and turns off the toy. 

The room feels very quiet when the toy stops.  You come to reality, remembering you are in your parents’ house in your old bedroom.  Your parents might not be home but it still seems wrong to get down and dirty with your old teddy bear staring at you.

Hyunjin follows your line of sight.  He grabs the bear and turns it around.

Okay. It’s fine now. 

You twist around and grab Jeongin, kissing him roughly.  He holds you as desperately, kissing back with the same fervour.  Hyunjin gets his hands on your shorts and tugs them down.  They are only off one leg, dangling around your knee, when he dives in and starts kissing your pussy through your underwear. 

You are still sensitive from your orgasm, moaning into Jeongin’s mouth while Hyunjin torments you with his.  When he moves the material out of the way, your legs start shaking again.  Jeongin reaches down to touch you too, his fingers brushing Hyunjin’s lips.  Hyunjin sucks the taste of you off his fingertips then dives back in. 

You are caught by surprise when you come again.  Jeongin catches your cry, covering your mouth again as you shake in his arms.  A tear spills loose just from the sheer sensation of such rapid orgasms.  Your body feels like a live wire, all lightning and electric energy. 

Hyunjin kneels upright, looking at the tear running down your face.  You whimper into Jeongin’s hand when Hyunjin licks it off your cheek. 

“Knew you’d be pretty like that, baby,” he says. 

You pry Jeongin’s hand off your mouth.  It goes easily.  In the end, they follow your lead.  You know your boys.  They would do anything for you.  They would start.  They would stop.  

You do not want them to stop. 

“Fuck me,” you say, so quietly it does not even penetrate the silence.   Even so, Hyunjin slides his hand between your legs and slides two fingers right inside you, so easily because you are so wet.  Jeongin squeezes your breasts in his hands, over your shirt then tugging the fabric up and over to get his hands on your bare skin. 

“What was that?” Hyunjin asks.  He brings those wet fingers to his lips and licks your wetness off them. 

“F-fuck me,” you say, still a whisper but clearer.  “Please.” 

“Well,” Jeongin says, kissing your temple.  He smiles at Hyunjin.  “Since you asked so nicely.” 

You all tumble over, laying on your sides.  Jeongin is nestled behind you, Hyunjin in front of you.  Jeongin lifts your shirt over your head while Hyunjin finally removes everything below your waist.  You slip your hand between your thighs while they whip off their shirts and boxers.

Then it feels like their hands are everywhere.  Yours too, reaching forward for Hyunjin, reaching back for Jeongin.  You hold his hip while he rocks against you, his cock gliding along your backside. 

“I’ll go first,” Hyunjin says, manhandling you onto your back then getting up between your legs. 

“You kissed her first,” Jeongin argues, shoving him.  Hyunjin shoves him back. 

“You’re bigger,” Hyunjin says, nodding to his dick.  “I’ll get her ready.” 

You did not actually get a good look at Hyunjin’s dick before he put it inside you.  If Jeongin is bigger, you are almost worried, because Hyunjin is bigger than anything you have had down there.  You make a keening, high-pitched noise, mouth open as he presses inside you. 

Jeongin lays beside you, reaching down to rub that still-tingling bundle of nerves.  It helps, your eyes closing and head falling back.  Jeongin kisses the exposed line of your throat while Hyunjin starts moving inside you. 

“Ohh—” you say, your hands moving all over his chest.  You clutch one shoulder and reach for Jeongin with your other hand.  He guides it to his dick, helping you find a rhythm, stroking his length while Hyunjin fucks you.

It goes on for a time, then Jeongin curses, squeezing your hand around him.  He nods to Hyunjin.

“Move,” he says.  “My turn.” 

Hyunjin, panting, pushes some hair off his sweaty forehead.  He moves backwards down the bed, stepping right off.  You yelp with surprise when he grabs your legs and yanks you down the bed.  He grabs your hips and flips you over, then gestures to Jeongin. 

“Your turn,” he confirms.  They switch places, Jeongin kneeling behind you while Hyunjin kneels in front of you.  You get up on your elbows, lifting your hips while Jeongin thrusts in.  He wastes no time, evidently already on the brink from your ministrations.  It means your gentle lover is suddenly pounding into you, your fingers forming fists in the bedsheets, yanking the covers everywhere as you pant and moan. 

“Sooo pretty,” Hyunjin says, cupping your face in both hands.  You know what he wants without asking, opening your mouth eagerly.  You doubt it is the best head ever, especially considering half your attention is on Jeongin, your body moving where he wills it.  But you manage, savouring the moment and already imagining every variation of position for the future. 

You look up at Hyunjin, kissing the tip of his dick then saying in a rough voice, “I want both of you one day.”

“Fuck,” Jeongin says and immediately comes, grinding deep inside you.  Hyunjin grabs you by the neck and puts you back on his dick, murmuring a string of expletives just as colourful until he comes. 

You think it is over when Jeongin pulls out.  Cum is dribbling out of your mouth when Hyunjin sits back.  He wipes his thumb over your lips, pushing them closed. 

“You can swallow,” he says.  His touch is a suggestion, not forceful, so you could ignore it.  But you gaze up at him and swallow.

And while you are doing that, Jeongin grabs the toy and puts it back between your legs.  You almost scream, bucking when it comes to life on your dripping pussy.  Hyunjin cups your face in his hands again, stroking your cheeks while you ride the pulsing vibrations.   Another couple tears spill and he wipes them away with his thumbs, cooing sweet nothings at you the entire time. 

They wring three more orgasms out of you before you basically collapse, exerted and sweating and panting. 

“God,” you rasp, laying on your side, still breathing hard.  “I’m gonna need to get in shape for this.  Two boyfriends is no joke.” 

The three of you laugh, then you get to enjoy the spoiled princess treatment that is having one boy to cuddle while the other fetches water and a towel.  When you finally get to sleep, it is nestled safely between your boys, murmuring sweet words at each other in sleepy tones until you fall asleep. 

-

Your parents return at lunch the next day.  While Jeongin helps your father grill and Hyunjin sets the table, you help your mother prepare a side dish.  She is practically beaming at you. 

“Do I want to know why you slept at the neighbour’s last night?” you ask. 

“Oh, my sweet girl,” your mother says.  She kisses your forehead.  “I heard you on the phone the other night.  I know you lied about having a boyfriend.”

“What?!”  You look at her with alarm and surprise.  “But – but you didn’t say anything!  You acted like Jeongin was my boyfriend the second he arrived!”

“Of course!” your mother says.  “Look my dear, anyone can find a boyfriend.  Walk onto the street and throw a rock, there’s one with his head out the car window like a dog.  Easy.  Not everyone can find a man who shows up to a party and pretends to be her lover, expecting nothing in return, and doing it just because he loves her.  And you found two.” 

Your mother wraps you in her arms.  You are still surprised but you hug her back.

“I’m sorry I made you feel so pressured,” she says.  “I just worried about you all alone in the city, but now I see you’re not alone.  But, you know, I am a mother, and I saw how those boys looked at you, so I figured… well…”

“Mom!” you cry, a little mortified she intentionally set you up. 

“Did it work?” she asks with an eyebrow wiggle. 

You are laughing helplessly, shaking your head, which only makes her laugh. 

“I knew it,” she says.  “Sometimes fate just needs a hand.  Maybe two.” 

“We’re not talking about this anymore,” you say, walking away. 

“You are glowing this morning.  Maybe I should get another man too.”

“Mom, please!”  

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

thinking about transfem metal sonic again bc she’s like. the most transfem character in fiction whos not in any way actually transfem or coded transfem like it’s entirely unintentional and that’s what makes it so interesting to me. bc like her entire Thing is identity issues she was built to emulate, surpass, and be a superior version of sonic which like. we can talk about eggman hating sonic so much he literally made a better version of him as his own child another time but besides that metal's entire life has been being forced to fill the expectations placed on her to Be someone she can never be. and this is something that causes her a great deal of anguish! she literally has a mental breakdown over it it’s something that’s clearly traumatic and distressing to her bc she can’t do it! defeating and proving herself superior to sonic is something inexorably linked to her, and both cause her nothing but misery and are both very literally dehumanising towards her. she clings to them, bc she has nothing else and it’s the only path that she’s been allowed to even consider, but they don’t make her Happy. she wouldn’t be so fucking angry all the time if she was happy! but it’s what she’s literally been programmed to believe she wants even though chasing that ambition provides her no joy or relief.

and in sonic heroes, the pressure makes her snap. if she Has to fill the mould she’s forced into, then it’s the outside world saying she’s doing it wrong that’s the problem, because she Has to be perfect, right? metal sonic is the golden child out of all of her “siblings”, and while that means she’s not outright going to be destroyed by her father and faces much less verbal abuse and marginally more affection, it also means she’s forced to uphold the perfect image her father sees her as, else she fail and face the same treatment she’s seen her fellow badniks go through. and that image she’s always tried so, so hard to force herself to fit is that of her father's magnum opus, his masterpiece, a superior version of his enemy. and to be superior to sonic she has to Be sonic and so if everyone says she’s Not they have to be the ones in the wrong and not Her she has to be the real true superior sonic and she has to Prove it.

but the thing is, not only is she forcing herself into performing the perfect role set on her- one that’s specifically masculine- she also reinvents Herself. this is something in heroes a lot of people miss, but neo metal sonic isn’t an upgrade From Eggman to her (and also came After her breakdown, she did it Because she felt she couldn’t Beat Sonic And Therefore Be Him if she stayed the same) her neo form is entirely self designed, and it was done all by her own hands. neo metal sonic is probably the closest we can get to how metal actually wants to present herself to the world, that’s Literally just named to be the New Her, and. ma’am this is a goth girl.

like. not only is she Literally Wearing A Skirt, not only does she Literally Have Eyeliner, she's also designed in such a way it looks like she’s wearing clothes, which feels silly to bring up until you remember sonic anthro characters almost universally only wear clothes if they’re female. and neo metal sonic straight up has hatsune miku sleeves a belt with a flowy skirt and leg warmers but with spikes. like it’s already fem as shit (in a emo edgy fourteen year olds oc way) but like i'm pretty sure by mobian standards this is about as feminine as a murderous robot can reasonably get. and while obviously that doesn’t = gender, metal specifically presenting as feminine in her idealised form she designed herself, while having a meltdown because she’s unable to Be A Specific Boy and is having an identity crisis bc she’s miserable trying to chase that is… like, that’s just a closeted trans girl innit. like this is Very Obviously not the intended read but like… it’s an extremely obvious and resonant one?

metal is, canonically, a scared teenager. as in, she herself says that she was scared Before her transformation. she’s mentally like 15 afraid of failure with an abusive and neglectful father figure suffering from psychotic episodes brought about by golden child burnout. like that’s not how it’s phrased in a 2003 game rated 3 and up but that is like, objectively what’s happening in sonic heroes she’s very open about her motives that’s just canon. which doesn’t make her Trying To Burn A Toddler Alive in any way not absolutely horrible like people forget how excited she was to murder a group that included Multiple small children in it brutally she’s fucked up. but her issues with her identity are more tragic than anything. her being dehumanised and treated only as A Superior Sonic broke her. and when she finally is able to express herself in any way, she's able to present as, well, a very edgy teenage goth girl but in robot form! she’s a fucked up and evil person but she’s also unable to be her true self and she’s scared and frightened and alone. and she’s not incapable of good! she Did sacrifice her life for shadow in rivals 2 like she can care for people she’s not inherently evil she’s a Person just one that steals your IP address. but what Makes her evil is sticking to a path and presentation that makes her evil.

tl;dr: canonically transitioning would have saved her (this was not an intentional story decision they just accidentally made her ideal form goth girl hatsune miku before hatsune miku was even an idea)

[loveandmurders]

The Sun of Ambrose II (Sinclair daughter!reader)

Hello everyone, this is the second part of a new Sinclair!daughter AU in which the reader is Bo's daughter and she has been taken away and adopted by a new family.

This is the direct continuation of this.

Hope you'll enjoy! <3

Warnings : No proof reading, angst, mentions of a boy groping, touching and wanting to rape reader, killer!reader, violence, blood, anger, manipulation.

Your grandfather and grandmother were killers. 

Your father and uncles were killers. 

Even if you didn’t know about all of this yet, it was written in your blood, in your DNA. You were born to be a killer too. You were born with this rage and with this skill. You were born to be something else than just normal. 

You weren’t a lost little girl anymore.

You were 16. 

You were doing your best to have the life your adoptive parents wanted you to have; you were good at school, you had friends, you were going out to parties. You were mute so things could sometimes be a bit difficult, but you were enjoying watching people in silence. You knew everyone’s secrets and dramas. You knew people’s weaknesses and desires.

So you knew when John came to greet you one morning, he didn’t have good intentions towards you. 

“Hello sweetheart. It’s been a little while since I've noticed you. We’re in the same maths class by the way. You remember me?” he said and you nodded to let him know you did remember him. He brightly smiled “Awesome. So, my friends are organising a party on Friday night and I’d love you to come with me” he offered.

You licked your lips and leaned into your seat, wondering what to do. He was towering over you and everything in his gestures showed he was acting like a predator. He probably thought that since you were mute, you would be a very easy prey.

You weren’t too happy to put yourself into danger, but at the same time you were bored out of your mind and your parents would be happy if you would go out with a boy. It would be another proof that you were settling in your life and that everything was going alright. And as long as you were wearing your sun necklace, you weren’t afraid for yourself. 

You finally nodded again and his smile turned into a smirk.

“Brillant, girl. See you on Friday’s night. I’ll come get you at your place” he said before leaving. 

He really wasn’t interested in you in a good way. 

You neither.

Your mother was really excited for you so she helped you get ready for what she was calling a “date”. You dolled up like you were supposed to before leaving the house without feeling anything. Your parents reminded you to be careful. 

Little did they know that at the instant you got into John’s car, he placed his hand on your thigh and groped you. You softly pushed him and gestured for him to drive to the party, which he finally did.

You were annoyed. 

Once at the party, he quickly greeted the people he knew, keeping you by his side like you keep a pet. You hated it. You started to get angry. It was a quiet anger you knew a little too well. You did everything to keep it manageable inside your heart. You couldn’t have a crisis here, in front of those people you were going to school with. You didn’t want your parents to get you to the doctors again.

You kept a smile on your face, even when he rushed you upstairs and found the closest empty bedroom he could. He hushed you inside, before locking the door behind you two.

“Ah finally alone, baby” he mused

You knew what his intentions toward you were but you weren’t afraid, you were oddly calm as you watched his every move. The fact that someone would want to hurt you and use you was making you burn with anger now. You had never felt so full of rage, and yet it was the cold madness of a killer that was taking possession of you. You knew what was going to happen, but you also knew you weren’t the prey. 

Your father and uncles started to teach you how to take care of yourself, how to kill, even if they never said it was for killing. It was always to protect yourself from “the bad people of this hostile world”. You had continued to learn how to fight without your parents knowing.

And even if you had never shed blood before, you were ready. The rage was too strong to make it stay inside of you. You smiled as the boy came closer to you, clearly not realising he was the mouse, and not the cat. He touched you and you let him do it, at first. 

“I knew you were going to be a good girl” he murmured to you and you hummed in answer. You gently grabbed him by the hair before your grip tightened and without a warning shot you moved to the side and brutally led his head against the wall. You hit him hard and he got disoriented. You continued to hit him over and over again.

You killed him. 

You killed him violently. And you felt good, oh so good. For the first time in years, the anger quieted down and you felt like you could finally breathe. 

You cleaned up the crime scene, your bloody hands and face, and his body before leaving it where it was. Your black dress was hiding the blood stains littering it but you knew you would need to burn it down once you would be back home. You went downstairs to dance with the others, as if nothing had happened. 

The body was found only when everyone thought it was time to go to sleep.

Of course the police interrogated you, but they couldn’t believe that such an innocent looking girl, who went through so much in her life already and was hence very soft, could have killed someone with such hatred. Your parents were so relieved nothing happened to you, not realising you were the danger. 

No one even found out who killed John.

And you found this very exciting.

So you continued to kill.

You realised you were very good at it, as if it was a gift running through your veins. Whenever you felt anger, you left your house at night for a “little walk”. You would easily find a new prey; anyone was good enough for it. It was also why the police couldn’t find you: there was no link between your victims, not even their profile. You killed for the sake of it, for the well being it finally gave you. You were known as the “serial killer of the shadows”. Your parents always worried when you were wandering around at night, not realising you were the danger prowling around the city. 

Killing wasn’t the only joy in your life, even if it was getting a big part of it. Around the same time you murdered John, you asked your parents to take up art classes. You wanted to do sculptures, to build things with your hands. You enjoyed doing pottery a lot. It was appeasing you because you could just focus on your hands and on your art. You were very good at it, mostly because you watched Vincent making art a lot so his gestures were written inside your brain.

You started to work on wax as well. You asked your parents to buy you the materials and they agreed. They were happy you were expressing yourself through art. It was certain you were doing better now. They had no idea that you simply still wanted to be Sinclairs’ heir. You wanted to find them again one day, and to prove to them that you were the only daughter they needed. You wanted to come back home more than anything. You knew your "real" father would understand your anger. You weren’t too sure if he and your uncles were killing the tourists, but you were certain they wouldn’t judge you for your night activities. You would be free in Ambrose… You just needed to find your way back to it.

And one day, it happened.

“So, Y/N, where would you like to go during the holidays this summer?” your adoptive father asked you as you were all having dinner in the living room. You had meant to talk to them about your biological family for a quite a while now and it felt like the perfect moment.

“I want to go in the South of the country” you replied and your parents were surprised you seemed so determined about it

“Why there?” you mother hummed

“Because I come from there… I want to find where I come from. I want to find what happened to my mother… I mean I want to know if she was right about my father”, you explained

“I’m not certain this is a good idea, hon” your mother instantly replied and you pouted, disappointed but ready to fight for it

“Why not?”

“We… We haven’t told you about all the stories we heard about your family. Your mother had the time to say quite a lot about them and the fact you weren’t even officially existing for the State is proving a lot. You were a child so you probably don’t remember or didn’t understand what was going on…” she babbled

“What you mother means is that they are dangerous people and we can’t just go find him” your father added

“This is unfair. I need to know my past. If you were at my place, wouldn’t you want to know the truth?”

The discussion stopped there for the moment but a few days later, your parents offered you a deal. The plan was you would all go to the South of the country for some holidays. You would try to find the region where you came from, but you wouldn’t try to find your father. You agreed. 

The problem was you didn’t know exactly where Ambrose was, but you had found your uncle Lester’s town on a map. At least you thought you remembered it was. Your mother and you found somewhere nice with a cute little hotel around the area you wanted. You hope to find your way back home… and to find your family again. You had changed quite a lot and you weren’t too sure your family would recognise you. However, you were still wearing your sun necklace.

You thought the day of the trip would never come, as you were so excited about it. You could feel in your bones that you were finally coming back home, so many years after having left it. Your parents were a little bit on edge, but they loved you too much to cancel the holidays. Your mother had a very bad feeling about all of it.

However, once on the roads, you couldn’t help but panic when the car went by on the dusty roads without going by the advertisements for the House of Wax. You remembered them by heart as you saw them quite a lot when you were in Lester’s truck. You worried you would come by close to Ambrose but not close enough. You worried you wouldn’t find your family. You worried everything was lost forever. Your adoptive parents noticed how you looked around and they asked you if you were alright.

“I come from here” you admitted to them as you signed. They exchanged a very concerned look at those words.

“Are you sure? You recognised this place? Your mother asked you in a soothing manner

“Not really, but the roads were the same when I was a child. It’s not here, but it must be in this area. My family is so close by now” you replied

“Hon… We are your family” your mother frowned

“You know what I mean… I want to see them, I want to see my dad again” you shyly signed, knowing your adoptive parents wouldn’t be happy about it. They did exchange another look, full of concern.

“We already talked about it… We want you to be safe and… your biological father didn’t seem like a good person. We don’t want you to meet up with him… and certainly not like that” your mother continued as your father stopped the car and parked.

“You don’t know him, we don’t know if my mother said the truth. He never hurt me when I was a child” you said

“You didn't know him either. What your mother did…” she trailed off

“But now we’re here, we can have a look around” your father offered to your mother’s dismay. 

They argued in whispers until you left the car. 

You recognised the violent heat of the sun hitting you, you recognised how silent the road was, you recognised how easy it was to get lost and in need of help here. You had to be close to Ambrose, you could feel it in your heart.

“Let's get back in the car, honey. We’ll go to the hotel we booked and we’ll talk some more about all of this. It’s understandable you want to find your father, even just out of curiosity… But you cannot just come over like that. You don’t know how he would react, what he became after you left… We need to respect a process” your mother rationalised and you were forced to agree with her.

A little voice inside your head wondered what would happen if your family didn’t recognise you? Would they kill you like they probably got rid of the tourists during your childhood?

And yet, you prayed for the car to stop working or for Lester’s truck to appear on the road. Unfortunately, you safely travelled to the hotel. You all ate at a restaurant before deciding to go to sleep and to talk about everything the day after. Your parents thought it was better to rest and have a good night sleep before doing anything. They might hope you would calm down as well.

You didn’t. You talked about finding your dad right at breakfast.

“I could find my father” you said

“It has been said that you didn’t know where you came from exactly and that you didn’t even know your father’s name.” your mother said “Did you lie about all of this? Did you try to protect him somehow?” she continued and you hated to be trapped in your own lie

“I didn’t know back then. But when I saw the roads, I remembered” you replied

“Makes sense,” your father nodded and gently smiled at you.

“I don’t like this,” your mother whined. She had always been very protective of you and she felt something was off.

“Look, darling, we’re going to find a solution for everyone to be happy.” your father continued to smile “The two of you are going to have a nice day out together and I’m going to look for your biological father. If you can just show me on the maps where he used to live… And if I can find him, I’ll talk with him and make sure he is good enough to meet with you. How does it sound?” he offered

“It’s rushed! He was a violent man, how do you know he won’t hurt you, hurt her?” your mother continued 

“If you don’t have news after an hour, you’ll call the police. Y/N needs to realise who her father is to move on in her life. That’s normal. Everyone needs to know and understand where they come from. And even if it’s rushed, even if it doesn’t sound like a good plan, she needs it now. We have to try.” your father replied. 

“This is too risky. We can ask for the administration to help us with this… Especially if he is a bad man. It’s indeed important but we need to take our time.” your mother argued back so you started to cry. 

It was always your most efficient weapon. 

It was settled then.

Your adoptive father would look for Bo Sinclair.

--

Part III

--

Taglist: @murder-hobo - @lacychick ; @magical-sass ; @limehaspassed ; @loveinglymessedup ; @bloodmoon-bites ; @iwantsleepplz ; @kawaistrawberry21 ; @12gaugefalls ; @kriston1210

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part sixteen

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen

-

Though Shen Yuan had played Final Fantasy VII and Crisis Core way back when, mostly because emulation was easily available and everyone praised them a lot, he'd never really gotten that into it. He'd sort of missed the hype train, and all the hot takes had already been taken, and Advent Children was kinda weird and overall it just didn't grab him.

But he has to admit that Midgar is a really cool setting.

It's dumb, of course, like, on every logistical level. Oh, look, there's thousands of kilometres of free real estate in every direction to build on, but you know what we should do? A massive fuck off blast plate of million billion tons of metal fifty metres of the ground, that's what we'll do, and we'll build a city in top of it too!

Like, why?! In what realm even remotely attached to sanity does that make sense?! Is there something wrong with the ground, is there an issue of sudden mega floods, or something? No, it's just. A thing they did! 

Logic and sanity aside, though, it's cool, as a videogame setting, it's very cool. With the rule of cool there's no reason for, you know, reason. It's iconic. 

And it's the closest thing to a modern city he's seen in - in a while! And, damn, but the scale of everything in real life is so much bigger than any of the games conveyed.

It's a real city! With real city traffic and bustle and dystopian advertisements everywhere! There's also an ever present haze of pollution that gives all the neon signs a dreamy glow. It's almost pretty.

And it's only powered by the lifeblood of the planet, too. Technically the souls of the dead! Wonderful.

"Please stop gaping at everything like a damned tourist and get in. People are starting to stare."

Sephiroth looks down to the car that had just stopped in front him on the sidewalk. Genesis had told him to get to the front, that he'd meet him there, but…

Genesis has a car. It shouldn't be a surprise, the guy is rich and the city is big, but it is. It's a really nice car too. A fucking oldtimey wine red convertible. It matches Genesis' outfit. How extra can you get?

"... Do I have a car?" Sephiroth asks slowly, rather than point out how ridiculous and in character it is.

"You have a motorcycle you never use," Genesis says, sounding tired. "Get in."

Sephiroth has a motorcycle. Of course he does.

He opens the convertible's side door and is immediately smacked in the face with a mix of nostalgia and incredulity at the old familiar feeling of something so simple as a car door mechanism at his fingertips. The seat is too much in the front for Sephiroth's long legs, but the seat goes back, and that's a familiar feeling too. Kind of.

He always had to pull his seat forward, rather than back.

Swallowing the sudden, long suppressed homesickness for a world he's two transmigrations away from, Sephiroth looks for a seatbelt. There isn't one. Hooray for corporate dystopia.

Genesis joins the four lane traffic in front of the Shinra building with the reckless expertise of a man who drives a lot in the city, and hates it almost as much as he loves his car.

"How far is it?" Sephiroth asks, trying to figure out where to put his hands. It's a really nice car, and it looks polished, inside and out.

He can't believe he's in a car. He can't believe he's in a world with cars again. He also can't believe how badly the games conveyed the scale of Midgar.

"Sector six," Genesis says and glances at him. "You're looking a little green there, are you feeling alright? Don't throw up in my car."

"I'm fine," he's really starting to get sick of saying it. "Stop fussing."

"Who's fussing! I just don't want you to make a mess," Genesis scoffs. "Also you aren't fine. You have amnesia."

Sephiroth snorts and leans his arm on the door, looking away and at the Shinra building.

It's huge, and weird. It sorta bulges out, this lumpy mass of a building with enormous pipes running up to it with a big barrel shape in the middle. It's the biggest building in the city, though - it's the only real skyscraper, towering over all the smaller buildings around it.

After all the metal in the Shinra building, it's weird to see brick and mortar again. Why brick and mortar? What did they run out of steel and concrete building the plate? None of the other buildings go higher than eight levels, too.

"We've covered one thing you remember perfectly. Anything else? You recognized Angeal and me, but how about anything else?" Genesis prods at him. "Hey, are you listening to me?"

Oh, he hates this. At least in Cang Qiong Mountain people were too polite to really pick on him or point out how badly he acted as Shen Qingqiu. They were nice enough to take his bullshit at face value and let it slide. Plus there was propriety to think about - none of his disciples had the standing to really call him out.

Genesis doesn't give a shit about his thin face and actually smacks him on the shoulder, "Hey!"

"What's there to say?" Sephiroth answers, because he has no answers to give. "I wouldn't know what I don't know, would I?"

Genesis sighs, irritated and stalls at the traffic lights. "And I can't tell you what to look up if you don't tell me. You must've figured out something by now."

"I figured I really could've used the day to myself," Sephiroth mutters and watches as a delivery truck advertising pastries runs a red light. "I don't know what you want me to say. I don't know, Genesis."

"Shit," the other SOLDIER says, running a hand through his hair while steering one-handed. 

There's a break in the discussion as they go through a checkpoint, where the guards in infantry uniforms just wave Genesis through. The people on the sidewalk stare at Genesis' convertible, and whisper.

Sephiroth looks away, and then blinks at the dump truck not far away from them, also going through the checkpoint.

Weird - somehow he didn't expect Midgar to have public services. Where do they go to empty them? Do they just dump their trash down the plate?"

"So you remember… nothing?" Genesis asks as they leave the checkpoint behind

"I know - some things," Sephiroth says defensively. "But - the details escape me."

"Things like what?"

"I don't know. You, Angeal. This city. The war. Don't ask me for the president's name, but I know there is one," he sighs and leans back, watching an enormous advertisement for LOVELESS pass them by. 

He also knows that sometime soon Genesis will get hurt and the wound will never heal, kick-starting the plot of Crisis Core. He has no idea when, though. He isn't even sure how to figure it out - the timeline in these games wasn't exactly clear.

"Does Angeal have a student?" he asks.

"What, like a personal student? Not that I know of," Genesis says and glances at him. "Why?"

"Ah, nothing, never mind. Must've been someone else," Sephiroth says smoothly.

So, Zack Fair, the protagonist of Crisis Core, hasn't appeared yet? Or Angeal hasn't met him. Hopefully that means there's still some time.

Genesis is quiet for a moment and then sighs. "I'll get you some intel. Personnel files for people you should know, reports from missions you've been on. The information packages handed to Thirds should help at least a little too. But Sephiroth, there's a lot about your past you've never shared, if someone asks about it…"

"I'll just say I don't want to talk about it," Sephiroth says, watching another neon lit advertisement fly by. "Thanks, Genesis."

"I expect to be compensated in full for my efforts," Genesis says firmly.

Sephiroth leans his cheek on his knuckles and wonders what Cultivation might do for the deterioration Genesis - and Angeal too - have ahead of them. "I'll do my utmost to pay back my debts."

"You better," Genesis says and turns the car from the main highway to a side road, full of expensive looking store fronts and equally expensive looking cars.   "That's it over there. Let me find a place to park and then we can get you a coat that fits."

"Much obliged, Genesis."

[johnconstantinesdick]

A series of AAI2 headcanons

(biased towards Sebastian and using the unofficial translation names bc I am not emotionally adjusted to the new ones)

Kay bounces around between jobs for a while—she works under Lang at interpol for some time, and then spends a few years as a detective, and eventually settles into working as a PI. It gives her the free time to pursue her own investigations, and she can work with either the Prosecution or the Defense as she pleases. She does the full Yatagarasu intro every time she’s called in to testify. She adds special effects each time. No one knows how.

Kay also gets fuckoff tall. Just like. Fully over 6ft, and extremely buff to boot. Her vibes are very Gender and I can see her going on testosterone at some point, so maybe she has some scruff. Really emulating Badd.

Sebastian also gets tall. No concrete height but he must get taller than Edgeworth and Edgeworth must have a crisis about it. Full beanpole though, no muscle.

BIG fan of long hair Sebastian. Tied in an elegant little ponytail. He flicks it when he’s smug about making a point. It makes people want to punch him.

Relatedly, everyone on Team Edgeworth is a smug asshole. This is just canon. Edgeworth? Bitch energy off the charts. Franziska? She can and will mock you to your face. Small children hate her. Lang? Fantastic dude but you could NOT get through a conversation without wanting to deck him. Kay? Absolutely insufferable and she’s going to make it everyone’s problem. Sebastian? You may want to make him kind and soft because his dad sucks and he DOES care about doing the right thing and he cries a lot. However once he gets his confidence back he’s going to go back to being an arrogant bitch, except he’ll be right more often. Which is Worse. Ray is the closest to being straight up Nice. But at what cost.

Cape Sebastian. I rest my case.

Sebastian wears blue as his accent color for a long time, and actively avoids wearing red. It’s not until Edgeworth gives him a red cape that matches his suit that Sebastian puts red on again and feels like he earned it. It’s an emotional moment. Sebastian sobs through their entire shared lunch break.

Lang, Franziska, and Kay worked together really well in interpol, and went on some highly classified missions. They may or may not have smuggled political refugees out of Khura’in. Whenever anyone asks if they’ve been there, they give the exact same smile and copy-pasted response about it being a beautiful country and no of course they’ve never been! The Wright Anything lie detectors all blare alarms. Edgeworth doesn’t let them near Prosecutor Sahdmadhi when he’s in the country.

I actually think Franziska slowly leans more and more into her investigative duties for Interpol. Will she one day realize she’s more of a detective than a prosecutor? Who knows, but she fucking loves chasing down criminals. She and Lang are best friends. They will one day make friendship bracelets and cherish them for the rest of time.

Kay and Sebastian get platonic married. Kay arranged it for a case. Sebastian thought they were making a blood pact. They never get it annulled. (aro Kay and demi Sebastian ftw)

They are also SO gender and goofy with it. Kay is Sebastian’s husband. Sebastian is Kay’s wife. If Sebastian ever dates anyone (Blackquill/Sebastian my beloved rarepair), Kay is going to call them her wife’s mistress for the rest of time.

Sebastian and Edgeworth never have a formal conversation about it, but they consider each other family. They refer to each other as father/son only when the other isn’t present. Sebastian is in his will.

Sebastian and Courtney DO have a formal conversation about the same topic. There’s a lot of crying. John exclusively refers to Sebastian as his “weird brother”

Edgeworth and Courtney have a custody agreement. They meet weekly for lunches. They deny they’re friends but they ARE coparenting. Divorce rumors abound.

Conflicts of interest don’t exist in the ace attorney universe but if they did these two would have to declare one. Edgeworth would be like. Sorry I can’t work with one of three entire judges in our district. We’re coparenting a teenager together. And Justine would be like yeah. Also I think he’s a bitch :\

Sebastian goes into child welfare. He specializes in criminal cases with children as the victims or defendants, and often gets called in on cases where kids have to testify. In civil cases he acts as a Guardian Ad Litem (I like to think he was Trucy’s during the adoption proceedings!)

I see the Klavier and Sebastian highschool friends angle and I respect it but I actually think Klavier should have vastly complicated feelings about Sebastian, while Sebastian barely even thinks about him.

To expand: Sebastian is head of the class (Klavier is sporting about it but also jealous. They don’t really interact. Klavier has friends and Sebastian is an asshole.) >> Blaise Debeste’s bribery and other crimes come to light (Klavier feels a little bad for him. He doesn’t say it out loud but there is some very real level of “he should have noticed. What an idiot. I would have known.”) >> Sebastian prosecutes his father because conflicts of interest don’t exist in Ace Attorney. He cries the entire very public trial, and sometimes the court needs to go into recess because the defendant won’t stop hurling abuse at the prosecutor, but he otherwise presents a very solid case. (Klavier watches in stupefied horror. “I could never do that to someone I love,” he thinks, “no matter what they did.” He’s wrong.) >> Sebastian slowly picks himself up and builds his legal career with Edgeworth and Justine’s help. (Klavier still feels a bit of condescending pity, but mainly it’s a “good for him” kind of thing, with a small but lingering amount of distrust.) >> State v. Enigmar (Klavier takes a leave of absence. He shoves down his misgivings about the case. The Dark Age of the Law starts. Sebastian stays behind, and does his best with every case. He doesn’t run. Klavier is desperately bitter.) >> Seven Year Gap (Klavier becomes an international rock star. Sebastian is thrown to the wolves every day he practices law under the Debeste name. They’re both stained, but the difference is that Klavier is from his actions and Sebastian is from others. There’s at least one hit single based around this. Sebastian does not listen to rock music.) >> State v. Wright (2026) (Klavier’s brother can’t be guilty. Klavier knows him. Klavier loves him. Doesn’t he? Did he miss something or was he kidding himself? Klavier begins obsessing over Apollo Justice. He and Sebastian work in the same office again. Sebastian feels no particular way about this. Klavier hovers outside his door when no one else is around and thinks about guilt. Did you know? Did you suspect? Did you care?) >> State V. Tobaye. (Another betrayal. Will all of his loved ones abandon him? Did they think he was that stupid or did they think he loved them enough to look past their crimes? Which is worse? Klavier does not knock on Sebastian’s door.) >> State V. Misham. Sebastian takes Klavier aside and tells him not to hold himself responsible. Says that he can’t be blamed for not noticing, and that he just has to try and build himself up again. Sebastian tells him his door is always open. Klavier says thank you but I’m okay. (Klavier thinks “Maybe you couldn’t have known. But I could have. I should have. I was not supposed to be the fool.”) >> Klavier goes to Edgeworth-mandated therapy. He comes to terms with Kristoph’s betrayal. He realizes he has been obsessing over someone he barely knows from high school for over a decade. He wonders if this is a crush. If he had a friend to tell this to, they would say that this is actually just an externalized form of self-loathing. He does not have any friends. His therapist tells him this instead. >> Klavier knocks on Sebastian’s door. They proceed to have a series of very normal conversations. They become friends. Klavier is too mortified to ever tell Sebastian about any of the above.

The Klavier and Sebastian analysis could have been it’s own post but I got in too deep. I think Klavier should get to be an unfair bitch sometimes, even if he never says it out loud.

Alas, this post is now too long for me to expand on my Blackquill/Sebastian thoughts. Of which I have many. There’s 7k of fic written in my notes app. Blackquill thinks Sebastian is pushy and confident and the hottest person he’s ever seen. Sebastian thinks Blackquill is extremely pretty and kind to small animals and children. No one comprehends their views of each other.

[destinygoldenstar]

Apple White is by far one of the best written ‘spoiled brat’ archetype characters I’ve ever seen.

She’s actually my favorite character in Ever After High, but NOT because she’s a good person. Quite the opposite in fact.

Like, obviously we all sympathize with Raven and how screwed over she is by their worlds ‘follow your destiny’ system as the daughter of the Evil Queen, and we’re absolutely routing for her when she says no to it.

Nobody is agreeing with Apple one bit when she calls this move selfish and that she ruined everything. It’s very much the deciding factor for a lot of people to hate Apple.

And… yeah. Fair.

Like “She had a future planned out for her where she’s forced to do a heinous crime and get ostracized for it her entire life and imprisoned like a monster at the end. And she DIDN’T want that? HOW DARE SHE?!”

Like, yes, the show wants you to hate Apple in this scene and be on Raven’s side.

But it feels like a lot of people from then on completely dismiss every single line and action Apple makes as pure evil fascism propaganda with no depth behind it.

And that’s just not true, because that in no way makes her a bad character.

“Well, actually, Apple is promoting a fascist world system and forcing everyone around her to conform in it, then proceeds to act entitled to her own role in that system where she does not suffer one bit. And that’s a bad thing.”

WELL NO SHIT THATS A BAD THING. ITS ALMOST LIKE THATS THE POINT.

The show never frames her as the one with the moral high ground, the closest they get to that is when it’s an argument that’s morally grey on both ends.

The entire point of the Royal’s side of the story, and Apple’s character, is that she is a byproduct of promotion to a system that is morally f*cked. Where she is an exception as a person who gets the best possible future by that very system.

She was born and raised in a world that heavily values destiny as its main driving force and all the myths that come with it. Myths their world was raised to believe. She was born and raised on the top of the world, and destined for nothing but greatness and to be a successful ruler. Of course she’s gonna be a harder glass to break.

When you’re told all your life that ‘you have to do what the book tells you or you will all DIE’. Of course you’re gonna believe it and push your loved ones to believe it. Especially since, you know, in your point of view there’s no negatives to it.

Sure your roommate doesn’t get a happy ending by that, but that’s just a necessary sacrifice. A means to an end. A sacrifice for your own life of royalty to happen.

That’s a sacrifice they’re willing to do and is worth it. Right? RIGHT?!

And then what do you know, her worldview gets absolutely shattered throughout the show as her loved ones join the rebels and call Apple out on her bullshit.

True Hearts Day, her friend Ashlynn is dating a guy that isn’t her intended prince. And Apple tries to help her through her crisis on the matter… by encouraging her to dump the guy because ‘destiny’. And when Ashlynn doesn’t do that, Apple, while deciding to still claim Ashlynn a friend, still says that she thinks it’s wrong.

Thronecoming, there’s Raven deciding to sign for the sake of them, and then it turns out that was a scheme by Milton Grimm, to which Apple actually calls him out and sides with Raven for the first time. And gee, I wonder who prompted that? Maybe it had to do that her best friend got a reality check in her own fate and went against it, which Apple experienced herself, and got rescued by that very friend.

Then there’s Way Too Wonderland, where that whole system Apple has known gets DESTROYED. Ironically by Raven doing the very thing Apple wanted from the beginning. Part of that has to do with everything she’s been through with her friends and Raven thus far. But also in this special, Raven succeeds in her own routes, and even encourages Lizzie to follow her destiny in one scene, something Apple would’ve never imagined from Raven at that point. But one that makes sense because Lizzie genuinely wanted that life and it was always her choice. And, you know, don’t give the throne to the dictator jester. And who is the one to snap Raven out of her power trip? Oh yeah, Apple.

Then there’s Dragon Games, which might as well be the ‘Apple redemption arc’ special. Which starts with her doing the morally worse thing she’s ever done, letting the Evil Queen free from her prison and proceeding to HELP HER.

All because she couldn’t accept this new world she’s found herself in, where she was not only not on top anymore, but was left aimless and lost with no direction. It was painful to her, and it shows. The spoiled privileged girl isn’t spoiled and privileged anymore. Whatever could she do?

So she really was just a sitting duck asking to be persuaded by evil. This is the only point in the entire show where I would call Apple a ‘villain’. Before, yeah she was antagonistic, but she wasn’t actively doing evil things, at least in her mind. Here? She knows her actions are wrong, but she’s doing them anyway to save her own skin.

And she gets exactly what she deserves for it. She gets the same ostracizing that Raven would’ve gotten from Apple’s own ideals. She makes her own loved ones lives so much worse.

But it’s only through that very brutality that she does everything she can to make up for her actions, side with the rebels, apologize for her spoiled behavior, and fight for a future she can’t see. Something she wouldn’t have done before.

(Oh yeah there was also this whole bit where she gets poisoned and comatose and it turned out her Prince Charming was actually a lesbian… honestly that just felt like a waste of fifteen minutes. I mean, maybe that was leading up to more Apple character development, but too bad the show got cancelled before it was shown, isn’t that great-?!)

You can’t tell me that Legacy Day Apple and Dragon Games Apple are the same person.

It’s almost like she was a character designed to be flawed and unlikeable and was set to grow and change as a better person through trials.

But another reason why I loved her as a ‘spoiled brat archetype’ was that she felt like a real person. A real, spoiled person. She was spoiled, but she wasn’t self aware of it.

She’s not a selfish rich lady who abuses her riches because she could. She wasn’t complaining about getting her hands dirty or demanding anyone worship her. Unless it’s an inanimate object. The only time I remember her complaining about her stuff being broken was with that one mirror episode, and even then it was revealed her whining was an act and she wasn’t bothered by it. She just wanted to torture Raven with guilt I guess. She also isn’t screaming for her parents to do her bidding.

Rather Apple, while a massive hypocrite, is portrayed, in her view, as a genuine hardworking person who cared and valued the people around her. She cares about her position as a future queen and understands it’s a massive responsibility and never complains about the work. She does it all. No matter what it is. She puts in effort to perfect her role, and only ever accepts the praise when she feels she’s earned it. She actually gets a bit self conscious when she’s not doing something exactly right. Well, when she’s aware it’s even wrong anyway.

Not only that, but she genuinely loves the people in her life and wants to make as warm of a presence as possible. Yeah she accused a lot of stereotypes with Raven when designing her room, but she also had no reason to have Raven as a roommate because they’re supposed to be enemies. But she makes the arrangement anyway because she values Raven and the partnership needed, even if she doesn’t value Raven’s ideals. She doesn’t dismiss Raven as ‘a bad person’ just ‘someone destined to be bad, and just doing a job’.

She actually cares about her friends and their well being. If she didn’t care about Ashlynn or Briar, why would she even try to help them in their crisis episodes? Yeah her way of helping is anything but, but in her point of view she is. She also does not push Daring into a relationship just because it’s set in stone. Points for consent I guess.

She also doesn’t use her mother as a tool for her own gain or for a step stool for her own progress at their lineage. It’s her mom that does all the pressure on the daughter. Aww she’s a mommy’s girl.

Watching the show and hearing all the Apple hate beforehand, I was waiting the entire show for the rug to be pulled under, where it was revealed that Apple’s kind demeanor was just an act and she was actually a very nasty manipulative mean girl…

…and that never happened.

Hell, the only time that DID happen, was because of a CURSE in Spring Unsprung. A curse that makes the person act the opposite of their true selves. So that was the real rug being unpulled that it wasn’t an act and Apple actually cared about fairness and good heart. (Also cursed Apple is a treasure. Sorry not sorry.)

I’m just saying, there’s a lot of spoiled archetypes they could’ve done with her but didn’t do. And I appreciate it cause it makes her seem far more realistic. And it makes her hypocrisy hit that much harder.

But she is still spoiled. She knows she’s on the top of the world and has the highest privilege in this world, and thus everyone treats her like a queen. So she subconsciously expects that admiration and praise, and when she doesn’t get it, there’s something wrong. Things come so easy to her because of her privilege, even if she puts in the effort to earn it. That IS being spoiled.

And on top of that, her forcing her friends to conform in a life that benefits her, IS very much spoiled behavior.

Like, she feels like how a spoiled privileged entitles teenager would actually act in the real world. (And Do)

And yet, while it’s very obvious to us how spoiled rotten she is, it doesn’t feel like Apple has self awareness. In her mind, she earns the attention and praise. And again, destiny is a whole reality they have that’s drilled into her head. So in her mind, she’s the most logical person in the room, and cannot accept the change. Because change would mean that she’d lose not only her future, but her privilege. And when she does, it’s so much emotional turmoil for her that she goes to the dark side to get it back.

I love that her transition from spoiled brat of a system to a humiliated rebel of that system is very rough and rocky. Because how can you expect someone like her to immediately accept a situation like this? There’s a lot more depth that goes into the discussion besides ‘following destiny bad, living life blind good’. And that absolutely shines with Apple teetering on the fence again and again.

So yeah I like this character. Can’t stop me.

(If you hate her though, I understand that.)

[paingoes]

for the ask game!!!

2,7,9,14,15,17 and 19 for delta and 2,5,7,11 and 19 for paris

don't feel pressured to anwser them all though!! i know its kinda a lot

oh this is delicious thank you for this. yayyayayyaya.

delta

7. What attribute of them (some facet of their personality, their history, their look, or whatever etc) would you find most important to somehow preserve if they were transplanted to an AU fanfic?

most important delta traits to me are his intelligence and his ability to stay calm. he's very unflappable under most circumstances and he can put up w a lot so he's kind of indispensable in a crisis. i feel like in any circumstance he somehow ends up as a load-bearing structure so he's usually doing a lot of important work and typically going unnoticed for it.

9. If your character could have handed their role in the plot to someone else, would they have?

nope. he definitely thinks of himself as exceptional and he's kind of right to feel this way -- no one else survived the institute. he's pretty sure if anybody else had his role they'd totally crumble under the pressure OR they'd go in the other direction and become totally unhinged. just let him do it. its fine.

14. How does your character feel about riding horses (or your world's closest approximation of a horse if it lacks horses)?

lol this is funny cause im actually writing a section about horses right now. delta's ass does not go outside. he would not get on a horse.

animals like him though <3

15. Is your character's first instinct fight or flight? Is there something that could force them to do the opposite?

definitely freeze. this is a sad but pretty consistent trait about him is he's been conditioned to ignore his own danger response. he only flinches when he's about to get hurt, he doesn't fight back or try to escape :(

17. Is your character holding any grudges? Are they likely to stop?

hmmmm.... no. well it depends. i think it varies based on the day but right now i don't think delta can even feel anger. it's another thing he's been taught to suppress. he gets irritated sometimes but it will be a while before he can allow himself to be truly angry about what's happened to him.

paris

5. Did they have a pet as a child?

no :(

7. What attribute of them (some facet of their personality, their history, their look, or whatever etc) would you find most important to somehow preserve if they were transplanted to an AU fanfic?

lol im glad you asked! paris's character is very much shaped by his circumstances so i think he'd actually be very different depending on the universe he's in. for me i think the most universal traits he would have are behavioral issues, physicality, and sensitivity. that's kind of a weird list i guess i mean in any universe he'd get pissed off easily and be good at fighting and get lost in his own thoughts a lot. in comparison to delta i actually dont think he'd have to necessarily be important in any universe -- i feel like it's pretty obvious paris should not have been in power and does not enjoy being in power lol. he would not gravitate towards it naturally. he accidentally became an important person as his job and its ruining his life.

11. Does your character have a pet peeve?

would be shorter to list the ones he doesnt have tbh. he hates slow walkers though he's def shoved tons of people out of the way for that. MOVE.

[littl3d0ll-art]

What happens when the goat finally had their breakthrough moment? you probably won’t tell us WHAT causes it (though I love it if you did, is it realizing the lamb is straining them along, seeing Narinder and the lamb, talking with the bishops, (maybe Leshy or Shamura) and they’re like dude what the fuck that’s not healthy)

But what happens, can a golem fully break free of their masters control? Would they end up leaving the cult (probably not cause they’re close to the bishops now) would they stop listening to the lamb? Since the seduction is a part of the lambs control of the golem how would they react? Would they worry about the goat going AWAL, try to replace them with a new one?

Goat’s realization is more of a… gradual one, I guess? There isn’t an “aha!” moment or anything, it’s more like a slow build up alongside a change in habits and thought patterns. This happens through them finally hanging out with people that aren’t the lamb(i.e. the bishops), getting closer with them and respecting them just enough to care about their opinions. Not much but just enough to where if someone says something about the relationship they’ll actually think about it.

At some point, towards the beginning of lamb’s ascension to godhood, the goat realizes that they don’t really know who they are outside of the lamb, and it causes them to go on a whole existential crisis spiral lmao. This happens because since the lamb is sharing their life force with the goat this causes the goat to also change appearance alongside them, and the horror of realizing your body is not only changing against your will but because of someone else sends them to a bit of a panic. After a while of this they realize that they need to be on their own and away from the lamb to be able to find themself, and so they’ll need the lamb’s permission for that. There isn’t actually a way for a golem to break free from their master, and a golem can be summoned whenever at whatever distance, so the goat will have to ask the lamb to not summon them and trust that they really won’t. By this time they’ve both just kinda been doing their own thing and the lamb stops caring much about what the goat does since they can still control them at any time, so they let the goat do their own thing. Every once in a while the lamb will summon the goat though, mainly just to vent or something since the goat is the closest friend the lamb has ever had aside from Narinder. This just causes the goat’s feelings towards the lamb to lessen since they’re finally coming to terms with the fact that the lamb doesn’t really care about them and has always just used them for their own benefit.

This would make the goat kinda hate the lamb for a while, but ultimately they’ll be fine with that too. Whether they like it or not they’re both connected to eachother forever and the lamb still holds the power so there’s just no point in staying mad, they just have to accept this is a part of their life and deal with it. In the end they do make a life for themself that’s separate from the lamb, but they still work for them sometimes. It just becomes… actual work, like a job

[notfernintheslighest]

Mac without his faith is nothing. If he lost it I would simply stop watching the show. This man is incredibly hypocritical and can bend his vision of catholicism to be whatever he wants it to be. He believes it so strongly but he still doesn't know the difference between Indiana Jones and the Bible. The dance was about God helping him and accepting him, it's about him still being deeply religious despite being gay. His dad didn't disown him bc of catholicism, he disowned him because he hates mac and if he can't give him a do-over in a grandson than he was finished with him bc everytime he interacts with mac his life gets worse. Mac is the only one in his family that is as religious as he is, he found a purpose in god bc no one else carried about him. Mac had to have the identity crisis to reconcile his sexually with his belief but he did that already. He is held together by his faith, I don't think he could live without it. He would still want a crucifix at the bar, his room is still covered in mini crucifixs with a picture of the pope above his bed and that will never change.

I'm sorry if I misunderstood what you were trying to say, and I'm sorry for the poorly worded rant but I feel strongly about this.

Mac’s family may not believe as heavily he does, but he was still raised Irish Catholic. I do believe that Mac would throw himself into any community he grew up in, and that just so happened to be Catholism. I don’t think Mac believes in God after he comes out, but I do think he would still consider himself Catholic. I think the dance is more about having an accepting community rather than literally God even if that community is still the church.

Mac’s views of God is heavily intertwined with his dad. His dad hates him yes, and I don’t think that his religious beliefs were the entire reason he abandons Mac but I do think that if Mac wasn’t gay and didn’t have a child that his dad would still continue their minimal contact. Mac’s dad wanted to repair their relationship after he got out of prison, he attempted to mend his relationships My Name is Earl style including the one with Mac. He violated his parole by buying plane tickets to the Baseball hall of fame for Mac in Dennis Looks Like a Registered Sex Offender. People who hate their kids don’t do that. Mac’s dad doesn’t completely severe the relationship after Mac snitches on him, he fully severs it when Mac comes out.

Mac still references his religion but it’s greatly declined, but he still holds many of the same moral beliefs which makes sense. His search for identity is very reminiscent of many people who are searching for community after reaching the church.

If you’re interested in religious comedies I’d recommend watching Dogma. Bethany’s participation in Catholicism while believing “God is dead” is the closest thing to Mac’s situation I can think of. Although I do love your Indiana Jones parallel. I think at one point Mac believed in God and after he came out to himself he saw God like Indiana Jones, another made-up action packed story.

[mediumtires]

bestie pls i need more christian/toto content, a drabble, a ramble, long tags, just SOMETHING!! you have me hooked and now i'm addicted i've read 7 years so many times it's embarrassing

ok hear me out you guys keep asking and i don’t have anything proper that i could offer you just yet BUT i saw an ask a while ago where someone said lewis isn’t going to renew his contract next year and saying “i won’t join another team” isn’t saying “i’ll be here next year i trust this team” etc etc etc and like, i hate myself for it but walk with me for a second here……………..

Lewis is the one to drop the bombshell of his retirement. Not his camp, not Merc, not PR. There is no tidy Instagram post in black and teal, no quote on quote, no text box announcing the retirement of one of the greatest. It’s Lewis who types it up, a hundred words max, and before he puts it on his story he calls Toto and lets him know.

Toto is in his office in Brackley, behind his big desk, glass walls, open door policy, looking out at a bunch of his employees steadily working away and none of them realise, none of them understand what is happening in the very moment he picks up the phone, what it does to him to hear the words, “I’m sorry man” and “I don’t wanna be the next Alonso” and “I can’t do another season of this” and “I need to let it go”. Toto’s world shifts, bends, and slowly glides off its axis. A funny joke, he thinks at first, before the realisation hits.

Toto has experienced many a crisis in his life. Some of them more serious, more real than others, but each one of them prepared him for the next, for what’s to come. His body catches up quicker than his brain. It’s the physical signs first, of going into fight or flight. Blood pumping, trouble breathing, sweaty hands, mouth dry. Racing heart. Funny expression. A racing heart. He’s always thought of himself as having a racer’s heart, especially in moments like this. He can calm himself, he can self regulate. He can manipulate himself, breathe through it, pretend he’s behind the wheel, pretend this is a life or death split second kind of decision calling for nothing but calm and steady hands.

He does; breathe through it. If there is one thing he is, steadfast and unswerving, it’s a leader. Responsibility sits tight in his neck as he seeks out his team, first the closest five, then senior personnel. He is not going to make this into a huge thing - it is - but he will have to make his people aware before Lewis lets the rest of the world in on his secret. Word is going to spread fast.

It does; spread fast. Toto was given an hour. He uses it wisely, types out a company wide announcement, and then another email, a more personal one, to the PR department. Tells them to leave things until tomorrow. There is no point in rushing this.

Toto leaves his office at 5 on the dot. Turns off his computer, does not take any documents, does not take any work to look at later, just shoves his travel mug into his bag, grabs his jacket and makes sure to turn the lights off on his way out.

When he gets home, Christian’s Range Rover is parked where it’s always parked, in the left space next to the stone steps leading up to the front door. It stands a little wonky today, the left front tyre kissing the grass. It’s an unusual sight. Christian is very particular about his car, and his lawn.

The dogs yap at his feet when Toto walks through the door, drops his shit on the sideboard with no mind to clean up after himself. He drags his feet through the foyer and into the kitchen. It’s still light out, it’s July, and Christian has opened the patio doors to let the warm summer breeze in.

His face has something critical to it when he locks eyes with Toto, crow’s feet deeper than usual as he watches him approach. Toto can feel the weight of his gaze on him, how he drags it up his body, down, up again, only to settle on his face for good.

“Colleague or husband?” Christian asks.

“Husband,” Toto says and folds himself into Christian’s opening arms, tucks his face into the crook of his neck and inhales deeply, allowing himself to just close his eyes and breathe. No need for pretences here. Car in the gravel, engine off, steering wheel dislodged and hands in his lap. It’s okay if his fingers shake. Christian knows he’s not a racer by heart.

[orginllazyblog]

AFK Arena drawings I did :D

Also, Headcannons!

First attempt drawing Annih

Honestly, the closest accurate if Lilith finally adds the two gods in the game

More drawings of him:

10% blood left -> 90% almost complete

Small headcanon: Dura and Annih create the celestial twins as they weren't first created to start off as kids to adults. As well for them handle Annih's work when he "left".

Next is his outfit, which is giving a Maleficent vibe. The second one is his celestial outfit:

A close-up of him. Giving him braids. You may also find that I drew little fireballs, references from his loading screen background, or from the wiki website if you don't know what I mean. Coming up with his clothing design, I have a feeling he would wear something that covers his neck to feet.

Yeah, you might think he would show more of his skin and consider he's the creator of the Hypogeans. Nah! Boy would wear a black hoodie in the middle of a hot summer.

You may also find that I drew little fireballs, references from his loading screen background, or from the wiki website if you don't know what I mean.

One is chaotic gremlin, and the other is more chill. A dark red mix magenta makes the mortals give into becoming Hypogeans, which explains for those like Lucretia and Lavatune who were once humans. The chill one is the creator of the Graveborns and thus report to Annih on their activities. The reason why Annih is not guiding the souls to the afterlife was to play his villain role until Dura's vacation is over.

But hey, that's just fan theory

Anyway, it's Dura's turn:

Young and sweet 👍🏼 while he's more mature and serious. I had fun drawing her long, wavy hair. Surprisingly, this is the only drawing I have for her while I drew her brother more.

Oh yeah! Speaking of that. I intend to make these two as siblings instead of having typical Hades x Persephone stereo type because it's just makes the Hades character more misunderstood. Looking back at @tatarella afk Arena post, it seems dev lilith's made him that way; jealous of Dura's favoritism, hated his job, and want destruction to Esperia.

Me: Alright, I'ma do it in my own way.

HC #1: Annih was not given attention from his creator, Honas, Primordial God of Order and Creation. This makes him question his eternal life crisis, thus telling Dura that he wanted to just disappear as he thinks he doesn't have much potential like her. She tells him that he's important to this world and that they were meant to be a pair of siblings who look after each other as they were made that way. Even though one is busy with their God duties, they give him a gift, which is a library filled with every Esperian mortal life recorded in a book. He never likes the humans as much as his sister and prefers a quiet environment.

HC #2: Him being a cold brother but secretly cares and worries for his sister. Back then, she was too nice, and he fears that someone could try to take her naiveness to their greedy intentions. He made sure to warn her multiple times to never be fooled by the humans. That one Hazbin Hotel reference: "You don't take shit from any demons!"

HC #3: When Dura and Annih were fighting during the war to make everyone believe their acting, he didn't want to hurt the only closet family he had besides Honas who they haven't seen him ever since from the beginning. He had a theory that if something were to happen between the siblings, Honas would come to deal with them, but somehow, they did not after that war.

HC #4: Goodbye, young Dura, now she's gone through character development. The reason why I headcanon that she stay at the Dislyte universe was that the game was also created by Lilith developers. There, she learned the fashion style, technology, trends, and some of the people, though she was only here for a vacation.

HC #5: With every mortal life recorded in the book, it also recorded the gods like Dura and Annih themselves. Though, he decided not to read his or hers because he respects privacy. One time, he found what seemed to be two large, thick books with strange cover. He then realized this was Honas and Lutos' life book still recording, but he never read it as he never wanted to remember Honas. As for Lutos, he knew they're more dangerous and that Honas was guarding the prison throughout eons. Annih never told Dura as she wonders if Honas would ever come to visit as she see them as a father figure. Yeah, I'm giving Annih Daddy issues.

HC# 6: Okay, this is the last one. Honas and Lutos, I headcanon that they are genderless, though Honas takes the form of a masculine figure, and Lutos takes the form of a feminine figure. Maybe even starting off as enemies to lovers as I have been writing about quite a lot 😅

[bladesmercy]

001 for sfkr and clerith!

oomf u know me so well. thank you for letting me yap >:-)

001 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

sefikura 🐍♡☁️

when I started shipping it if I did:

there's actually a funny story to this one. > be me. > guilelessly playing kingdom hearts 2 in 2019. > "what the hell is these dudes' deal. i wonder if people ship them at all" > open ao3 thinking there might be a handful of fics > "oh there's a couple more than a few, huh" > life ruined.

my thoughts:

my favorite little guys in anything ever. they surgically removed my personality to make room for more sefikura. truly i have never loved a ship as much as this one. literal otp of all time.

What makes me happy about them:

everything? they're so funny and silly to me. extremely pathetic creatures. two absolute losers. i think of them and i always smile. i love the fact that each of them have independently made their personality revolve around each other at different points in time, it's so funny.

What makes me sad about them:

EVERYTHING. the fact they will never have a happy ending. the fact they will be enemies in every (canon) universe. the fact they are two extremely broken people who are uniquely equipped to understand each other and that won't be enough to save them.

things done in fanfic that annoys me:

tbh i'm so picky with what i like and don't like about how both these guys often end up characterized, but i also think all interpretations are valuable in their own way. i can't think of any huge annoyances, except that i have very Specific feelings/headcanons about sephiroth in crisis core era, and usually won't read things that veer too far away from that.

things I look for in fanfic:

i love any and all fics where the author makes it obvious that sephiroth is just. completely besotted. and i think cloud feeds off of that, even if he won't admit it. i'll read just about anything with these two, but i especially love stories where authors can articulate the crux of their dysfunction really well. yes, these two have have immense amounts of hate, and blood, and pain between them, but (especially on sephiroth's end) there is also an Intense desire for intimacy, of any kind. these two things juxtaposed well is just magical to me.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

no one. i say that as a joke but it's pretty much true. for cloud i do also ship him hardcore with aerith (somewhat against my own will XD), but outside of that i don't really multiship these two anymore. i used to be a Hardcore multishipper, and while i still appreciate things like some polyshipping (other cleriseph enjoyers where are you, i need food of that ot3 so bad), i honestly can't enjoy the thought of them being with anyone else. i miss being a multishipper, because these days pretty much every single other ship with them (outside of clerith) has become a notp for me. ;w;

My happily ever after for them:

in canon? haha. the closest i could see them in canon ffvii (and the closest i think part 3 of remake would get to giving them a 'happy' ending) is having a moment of resolution similar to what kuja and zidane get in ffix. i would be satisfied with that for canon. BUT if we're taking all the stops off, i want to see the dramatic epic pining slowburn post-AC where they eventually figure out how to lead semi-normal lives alongside each other. this is making me want to write that now....maybe that will be my next fic project.

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

there's an obvious answer here with consideration to builds and hair lengths, i think. i like to think cloud has accepted his fate to have this 7 foot tall piece of brick clinging to him like an octopus.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

this is another obvious one, and i'm tempted to say 'fighting', but i'm not sure that clears the bar of non-sexual for them. my second choice is that i think they would just genuinely enjoy being around each other in silence. they're both such introverts, and i like to think of them just recharging quietly with each other.

clerith ☁️♡🌎

when I started shipping it if I did:

let me preface this by saying that when remake came out in 2020, i had less than zero interest in vii's infamous love triangle. i wanted no piece of it in my heart or my home. then the game came out and cloud and aerith gripped me by the throat and violently dragged me into falling in love with them by being so damn charming and heartfelt and perfect for each other.

my thoughts:

i love these two so damn much. i really Really loved them in remake, and rebirth intensified this to a level i could Not have anticipated and is currently ruining my life. i love them. i love that they are soulmates, romantic, platonic, or something in-between. i love that their bond and chemistry is near-instantaneous, i love that cloud blooms into letting himself experience softness around her, i love that aerith finally has someone who cares about making her happy and standing by her so damn much.

What makes me happy about them:

so much. their love is so pure and tentative. their vibes to me run parallel to how i see and experience the early 20s as a queer person, essentially the second teenage-hood where you're still feeling yourself out as a person, and you have no idea what you're doing. you feel like you're missing out on a lot of the fundamental experiences that 'normal' people have already had, and i feel like both cloud and aerith mirror that emotion, thanks to the fucked up circumstances of both their lives. aerith is cloud's first real friend after nibelheim (and potentially ever, depending on how close you think he was with zack. to me, i hc cloud and zack were pretty friendly, but not especially close prior to the nibelheim incident.) and cloud is also one of aerith's first friends. they've both suffered such acute loneliness and isolation in their lives, and the fact they find healing for that in each other is so so special to me. the fact that aerith is the person most able to reach through to the person cloud Really is, even under everything he's got going on, makes me so deranged.

What makes me sad about them:

well. there is a very obvious answer. so there is definitely That. that's kind of a big deal.

things done in fanfic that annoys me:

honestly i feel like i don't have many specific fanfic annoyances in general, because if a fic annoys me i just stop reading it, and then my adhd makes me forget i read it to begin with.

things I look for in fanfic:

i really love everything with these two, i love all the cute fluff happy ever afters they don't get to have in canon, but i also love the angst and the drama and the trauma. usually i just gravitate towards any fics that i feel understands the characters well or has interesting ideas, the exact plot or type of scenario is less important to me.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

in my heart, cloud's endgame ship is always sephiroth. as for aerith, i'm also a Huge zerith shipper (yes i am in constant emotional pain, how did you know), but aeriseph also firmly has a place in my heart.

My happily ever after for them:

any. any of them. i want the most tooth-rotting fluffy ending for these two. (admittedly, their iconic tragedy is a part of why i love them so bad. without it, my emotional investment would be Nowhere near as high.) i've been reading a lot of wedding/alternate future fics with these two lately and they all make me ;w;

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

i genuinely think it goes both ways, but if i had to say i think cloud is doomed to be a little spoon in any lifetime.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

oooh tough one!! i think aerith would love teaching cloud to garden....though i'm not sure he would be any good at it. but i have faith in him to learn.

[softpine]

holy shit that was incredible 🧎 as usual right after reading one of ur posts i'm craving a LOT of bts info. how did u decide who would be the closest to which until dawn character? were there any choices u went back and forth on? how are u so talented? are there any hidden easter eggs? how do u think their relationships would change in the following months?

the edits are beyond stunning, i've been staring at the portraits for so long and i'm gonna reread the whole thing tmrw in case i missed smtn <3

ahhh thank you!!! i'm so happy you liked it 🥺💖

so the thing is, i'm like. wildly hyperfixating on until dawn right now and i decided to platinum the game, which involves replaying it at least 3 times (in my case it took 6 because i'm bad at gaming lol) so i had a ton of time to think about this AU while i was watching the same unskippable cut-scenes over and over. the first thing i thought was "haha i also have a character named matt who's kind of a pushover" and the rest is history :')

characters

Josh = Finn: i knew i couldn't have an actual josh in this case because none of my characters would do exactly what he did, but the core elements of josh are already in finn: he was wronged by the people in his life he trusted the most, he lashes out when he feels strong emotions, and he's really just scared and lonely underneath it all. so then i thought, what if josh's fake ghost antics were an actual ghost? and who's better for that role than finn? however, his parents are definitely not rich, so the lodge couldn't belong to his family. that's why i decided to make it a larger hunting lodge where all kinds of hunters would come together. also did you notice how i didn't even tell you who killed finn in the AU because no spoilers :P

Sam = Asa: i actually don't care for sam tbh but she's the obvious leader of the group, the level-headed one, the angel on your shoulder. asa can be impulsive at times (especially in regards to finn) but he's still the person i would choose to be at my my side during a crisis. his parents are the only ones with money, so it makes sense for danny to purchase the lodge without visiting it himself. sam is also compassionate to josh and has somewhat of a romantic thing going on with him if you read it that way, so that fits for asa and finn.

Jessica = Elaine: jess (best girl!!!!!) is the first person with the possibility of dying, and her death/injury is the catalyst for multiple characters future decisions, so her equivalent had to be someone who's also strongly connected to numerous others. so elaine is perfect! she's also the only person of my group who i can imagine storming outside in the snow in her underwear to give her friends a piece of her mind fjskjds but she also has enough strength of character & resilience to make it realistic that she might survive so many injuries.

Mike = Austin: this felt like a no-brainer because austin already has knowledge about guns, he's fearless, and if elaine got hurt, austin would go fucking ballistic. he stops caring about his own survival and starts making brash, unwise choices. but that's where the similarities end, because i actually really hate mike and i feel bad comparing austin to him lmao. say what you will about austin, but he would never try to talk his way into having sex with a girl who literally says "i'm just not feeling it". i hate mike 😒

Chris = Stevie: now hear me out!! at first glance you might think stevie would be ashley. they cry a lot, they look to others for guidance, and they even look alike. but stevie strikes me as much more of a chris type, being that chris was never meant to be the hero. he's a goofy nerd who tells jokes when he's nervous and screams his head off any time he has to do something brave. and that's exactly what stevie's role in this AU is. despite her nature, she's making brave decisions for the benefit of her friends. (but this pic did remind me of ashley)

Matt = Matt: he's kinda just..... here. he cracks some jokes, he can either diffuse or encourage arguments, he plays second fiddle to his girlfriend most of the time. he tries to be the hero but fails miserably. but he has a good heart and he almost never does anything controversial.

Alisa = Ashley: alisa is WAY less outwardly emotional than ashley, but she has the same chaotic, contradictory nature. she cares about people, but she's also capable of coldly letting others die to save herself. she's good at making others feel protective of her even if she doesn't need protecting. she's VERY curious.

Jada = Emily: listen emily just doesn't fit with any of my characters even though i love her so much. but jada does share her determination in the face of fear, her will to survive at any cost, and the way she has the capability to soften up and be really sweet under the right circumstances. they're both much more resourceful and capable than you would initially think. but jada is more likely to follow others' guidance than make plans herself.

other stuff!

for the safe room scene, i thought it would be more interesting if it was the archetypal heroic boyfriend who was bitten and the archetypal damsel in distress who holds his fate in her hands. but there is no way in hell that austin would just sit there and let someone shoot him. when he takes alisa hostage, it almost makes it easier to shoot him; if he were pleading for his life, jada would never pull the trigger, no matter how much alisa told her to. but since he puts himself in the position of the aggressor (the exact thing they feared he would do) it becomes a more believable dilemma. of course, we learn later that the bite is not infectious and austin never would've turned, but none of them know that yet. even austin doesn't know. this scene in the game is extremely horrifying to me so i hope i did it justice in my AU too!

i said this in the replies too, but: the playthrough i envisioned with the stats and pictures makes these major choices: elaine initially survives the mine, matt dies by the rope, stevie's leg is fine, jada shoots austin (why she's covered in blood in her portrait), jada & alisa die in the explosion, stevie rescues elaine, and finn saves asa!

imagine the lantern is doing this shit the whole time LMAOO

the swiss army knife in my AU basically has the same function as the flare gun in until dawn. if matt doesn't have it, he'll die. but if emily doesn't have it, she'll only be bitten. but getting the flare gun into the right hands is sooo convoluted so i had to simplify it for our purposes.

butterfly effects

i didn't include these because i was trying to keep things brief, but here's some of the other ideas i had:

if elaine & austin's relationship drops too low before they arrive at the guest cabin, then elaine won't kiss him and will go outside to look for her phone against his wishes. that's where she would be taken by the creature instead.

if jada and alisa don't find enough clues about finn's disappearance, then they will not recognize finn when they find his remains. this makes finn less likely to protect them later in the night.

if jada shot austin and her relationship with alisa is HIGH, then alisa will give herself injuries on her face to help corroborate their self defense story. if jada shot austin and her relationship with alisa is LOW, then alisa will be fascinated and say "i didn't know you had it in you..." but will not offer to corroborate the story. in both scenarios, alisa will then say she doesn't want to sit around with austin's body. jada will have the option of leaving with alisa or staying inside the safe room. jada can say no (alisa might survive, jada dies), or yes (they both might survive). or if they have a high relationship, she can convince alisa to stay too (they both die).

if matt survives the attack in the mines, then stevie's leg will be injured because she didn't have the knife, meaning she arrives much later to rescue elaine/matt. so if elaine is still alive, matt can find her in the mines and they have a conversation. they will both be impressed by each other's survival, and elaine will feel bad that matt is only in the mines because of her. she asks where austin is, but matt has no idea. then stevie shows up and the rest plays out as described!

after dawn

so obviously their relationships would vary wildly depending on who survives and what choices they made to get there.

in an everyone survives playthrough, austin and elaine would break up soon after the events of the game. if you notice, elaine's perception of austin went down a lot because austin didn't try to save her after she fell down the elevator. she felt abandoned by him when he was the most physically capable & experienced person who could have saved her, but instead it was her injured best friend who never gave up on her. so they're done lol. stevie and matt would break up amicably (for reasons unrelated to the night in question) and remain friends, because how could they not? as for alisa, she doesn't talk to any of them anymore. she was only ever close with jada in the first place, but after jada refused to shoot austin, she lost all trust in her. after finn's remains are found, his spirit is no longer chained to the lodge and he's able to join asa at home. this version of finn is like a normal ghost in that he can appear to anyone he wants. he becomes close friends with all of asa's friends, especially stevie. and then... a few years later... a family called the washingtons purchases the property for their kids (josh, beth, and hannah) to throw parties in. just kidding sjfkjsd sole survivor playthrough: with the outline i laid out, there's actually no way for each of them to be the sole survivor because i had to cut so much out for brevity (i know it doesn't seem like it lol). but it's possible for asa, stevie, elaine, or matt to be sole survivors. the most heartbreaking is probably stevie, who would've had to see matt's decapitated head, heard the lodge blow up with asa, jada, alisa, and austin inside, then watch elaine die right in front of her. so that's super fucked and i don't want to think about that anymore!! asa being the sole survivor makes the most sense logically, because he has finn to protect him for most of it. elaine or matt being the sole survivor would be if one of them dies early in the game and then stevie dies trying to help elaine/matt escape. in any case, i don't think all the therapy in the world could cure that amount of survivor's guilt... everyone dies playthrough: the group become ghosts who haunt the mountain. finn's body is never recovered because no one is alive to report it to the police, so he is never at peace either. danny still owns the property, so he destroys the cable car and builds a giant electrified fence so that, hopefully, no human will ever return to the cursed mountain. i can't even / don't want to imagine how any of their parents would be able to move on after such a tragedy, it makes me genuinely sad to think about :( everybody dies playthroughs are all fun and games until you think about what comes after 😭

ANYWAY THAT'S ALL!! thank you so much for indulging my frankly rabid brain fjskdjs i know i keep saying it, but until dawn is my most confusing obsession because i first played the game in 2015 and i wasn't a fan; i thought the characters were annoying and the gameplay was lacking. but a few months ago i randomly decided to watch a playthrough of the quarry and that made me want to give until dawn another chance, and now...... yeah. idk what happened here but now it's all i can think about lmao. but being able to talk about the game with other people is sooo fun and i'm really happy i did this!! 💖