#hhhh trauma bois

[marshmellowpaint]

No. 7: ZIGGY

Just a lil guy (< is 40+ years old)

[akaikali]

TMAGP EP 18 REACTION (SPOILERS)

TEDDY??? Okay no this man has shown up too many times he's going to end up back at the OIAR.

HELP ME WHAT IS THIS CONVERSATION ALSO TEDDY BISEXUAL??? But also she didn't mention Colin??

"Irritating yet faintly erotic" I LOVE YOU ALICE

"She's really weird but like in a hot way" ALICE YOU'RE DOWN SO BAD PLEASE

"She'll make you forget all about your embarrassing obsession with Sam" GIRL UR PROJECTING SO HARD THE PROTOCULE IS PROTOCULING HELLO?????

Alice my love. You're so. Hhhh. She cares so much but like. Hides it behind humor. I love you sm

Lena is so awkward god I love her she's like genuinely trying to be nice to Sam but she only knows how to be intimidating because of Gwen akdhsjfb.

My God I love Lena too "consider my silence a compliment" GIRL

"Is that it's name" LENA KELLEY YOU ARE THE FUNNIEST MOTHERFUCKER ON EARTH NO ONE KNOWS YOU LIKE I DO

AUGUSTUS???? ITS A JONAH CASE???? HOLY SHIT???? I THOUGHT WE WERE NEVER HEARING THIS OLD PRICK AGAIN

Oh my God shut up. SHUT UP. IMMEDIATELY AFTER ALICE HAD A DROWNED PERSON START TALKING TO HER. This is interesting because that person was drowned but this one seems to be dehydrated???

THE FUCKING CHANGE IN TONE DURING THE TRANSCRIPT????

Wait wait spiders??? And confusing passageway and locked doors??? Hmm interesting. I know we'd classify this as The Web and The Spiral but I don't think those classifications exist in this world?? Additionally, all the talk of "Mother" makes me this of The Web being called "The mother of puppets"

I also see a bit of The Lonely. The weird filter om "laugh" bothers me.

Sam telling Alice about this being same as her experience ALSO YES SAME HES GETTING IT "sounds like she was trapped in her greatest fear which then actually killed her"

Alice come on sweetie you really shouldn't ignore this come on. You know this.

Okay I can see why Alice and Sam didn't work out in the past. Like in a way, I just don't think they could have been compatible during the time after Alice's parents death because Alice does not handle trauma well and lashes out a bit without noticing it. I'm only saying this because I do kind of feel bad for Sam, he's trying to help Alice to keep her safe but she's shutting down every idea he has.

I do get Alice's side though, in her place, she wants to put it behind her and not think about it. But it's not good for her especially not in the genre she's in lol

"Trouble in paradise" there is ALWAYS going to be trouble in paradise with those two IN FACT I highly doubt there IS a paradise.

Oh boy. What's the next monster Gwen is gonna have to deal with.

GWEN IS TELLING THEM SHIT???? OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD I GENUINELY AM IN SHOCK. I NEVER THOUGHT SHE'D TELL THEM.

Oh no. Oh no poor Gwen, she's never going to open up to anyone again. I mean I understand them thinking she's fucking with them but Jesus. She's traumatized from that.

Okay yeah Alice my girl I love you. But you keep ignoring these things and someone you care about is going to really get hurt.

GEORGIE????? OH MY GOD WE'RE HEARING GEORGIE MY GIRLFRIEND GEORGIE OH YM GOD HOLY SHIT HOLY FUCK

JACK SOUNDS SO CUTE (who keeps taking Georgie's face) AKBDKSBF

Oh dear. Okay so I'm absolutely sure Celia woke up in the middle of bumfuck nowhere again and called Georgie to watch Jack but said that it was because she went to grab baby food. Georgie knows she's lying.

Celia I like you??? Oooo????

GEORGIE AODHAKFBSB SPYING ON HER FOR THE GOVERNMENT THATS HILARIOUS. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WOULDNT BE SPYING FOR THE MASONS.

Okay interesting interesting I just feel really bad for poor Gwen now. She's never going to trust them with anything again and she's probably going to be even worse to them. Which like they do kind of deserve but also like I get why they wouldn't believe her immediately? But they should have read the room she seemed genuinely distressed. And I think Alice knows it's real which is why she didn't say anything. But at the same time, she didn't stop Sam and I think it's partially because she wants to pretend it's not real.

Hooo boy lots to think about.

[zanarkandfayth]

Would love to read your answers to questions 3, 9, 13, 17, 18, 26, 29, 31, 32, 50, and, if there's another number (or several) you really wanna answer, please add those too ✨

thank you for the ask!! <33 I wrote you novels in return gjdskglj

3. In your opinion, what’s your best fic?

oooh this one is so hard because I love most of my fics for different reasons, even my older ones (at least the ones on ao3. we ignore the ones left behind on ffnet lmao). hhhh, of completed ones that are posted, imma have to say monsters honestly, because damn did I put some heart into that. but the one I'd probably consider absolute best is the still ongoing, not yet posted 600K+ beast of a fic I usually refer to as "nanofic" that I've been working on since 2019. it won't be everyone's cup of tea, but it just gets so deep into noct's trauma that I inflict on him and his slow recovery from it, more than I've done for any other fic, and I've poured so much blood sweat and tears into that thing, it's kinda everything to me.

9. Have you ever written for a fandom without watching/reading/playing the source material?

written, no. been tempted to in the past, but it was too much effort and I already had too many fics for my main fandoms. I have read fandom blind for both harry potter and supernatural in the past though, like lates 2000s into mid 2010s. both were kinda on accident. supernatural in particular is because it kept getting crossed over with MULTIPLE of my fandoms. psych, house md, and criminal minds. so I started reading non-crossover supernatural fics in self-defense gsdklgjdks

13. What’s the biggest change between your style when you started in fandom and today?

I mean… this is the first paragraph of one of my fics from my first fandom when I was fifteen. you tell me 😂

"Relena smiled as she sipped her tea and mentally reviewed the day's schedule. 8:00 am- peace talk to the world. 10:00 am- conference with Romefeller. 1:00 pm- try to convince Dorothy to become a pacifist because she was to stupid to understand that Dorothy loved war. Rest of the day- annoy the HELL out of Heero Yuy. Smiling happily again (PLEASE! Her smile is SO annoying), she stood up and was just about to take a step when …. suddenly a freak falling cow killed her!!! =^.^= The gundam boys all burst out of closets around the room and rejoiced."

the biggest change is probably that I actually write well now lmao. and don't character bash. and don't throw author's notes and emoticons in the middle of fics, and have learned to format better, and, and…

17. In your opinion, what’s your most overrated fic?

oh god. let me hide before I answer this. hands down, it's shadows growing. like let me be clear, it's not bad by any means. I'm still fond of it. but I did not have a clear plan when I started writing it, and I really feel like that shows. it was not meant to be a fix-it fic. it was not meant to be a longer fic. it was not meant to be much of anything, tbh. I saw the prompt on the kink meme and the prologue literally started writing itself in my head and I was like "nah idk what I'd do with that" and I scrolled past, but I couldn't focus on reading other prompts and so I went back and just started typing the fic in a reply to the prompt. honestly I figured I'd write whatever I could and then when I left it unfinished, no one would know because I was anon and I had like one fic posted on ao3 for ffxv at the time and I was used to being a complete fandom nobody. the fact that shadows growing got me even somewhat noticed was unexpected and I was not prepared gdjskgjdskl

it definitely affected the fic because once the readers started picking up it made me feel suuuuper stressed and I was so afraid to stray too far from canon because I thought people would hate that??? for some reason??? no there's logic there. I was just overwhelmed. and I do get why people love it, because the whump and the friendship between the boys is really good. but I cannot help but look at it and remember how out of my depth I felt at the time and wish that I had been brave enough to diverge more from canon and smart enough to come up with a better ending. I still suspect there were quite a few people who felt let down by the ending and that's fair honestly. anyways, yeah, it's a good fic and I'm fond of it and most of the attention and the recs it got were in the first couple years of the game being out and I don't begrudge it being my most popular fic, I just. have better ones now I feel like gjsdgjskgsj but maybe not ones as many people would want to read. which is fine with me tbh.

18. What’s your most underrated fic?

the gladio oneshot in my "fayth's daddy issues week" series! (I wrote all those fics so back to back that I can't remember the titles for any of them whoops.) I adore that fic and it got so little attention compared to most of the other fics in that week, or my fics overall tbh. the only one that got even less was the one about iris 🤣 but I don't care much for the iris one either, even though I think it has some stellar banter between the boys and cute/funny prompto/gladio moments. I really love the gladio one though, because it was fun to revisit gladio's pov in a fic and I got to develop a bit of backstory for him that's been evolving into headcanon and there's a good chunk of ignis and gladio friendship that was the precursor to all their friendship in monsters, plus I got to make gladio cry, so. I love it <3

26. What aspect of your writing do you most enjoy to see praised?

characterisation, for sure. it's the one thing I agonise over and actually worry about what readers might think at times, especially as I get further away from having played the game to keep it fresh in my mind. so anyone commenting that it feels right makes me roll around on my bed in glee. the other aspect I equally enjoy is people commenting on the emotions. like, that the ones I wrote the characters having feel real/deep, that it made the reader feel them too, etc. stuff like that. cos the emotions are literally why I write fic lol.

29. Does the division of your writing across fandoms line up with your reading? What’s the biggest discrepancy?

I am dumb and am struggling to understand what this question is asking, tbh. is it like, do I write for as many fandoms as I read, or something? because fuck no in that case, haha. the only fandoms I've done major writing for (more than one or two fics) are gundam wing, digimon adventure, final fantasy x, and final fantasy xv. and I've read for something like 100 fandoms, idk. at one point I had a list but I stopped keeping track eventually.

31. Who’s the one character you’ve just never managed to get perfectly right?

well… I didn't really understand the concept of characterisation for fanfic until a little before I started writing for ffx. so uh, it's kinda non-existent in my gdw and digimon fics. but once I actively started trying for it… honestly maybe just yuna from final fantsy x. I had some things featuring her meant to be longer fics that were set during the game (most of my posted stuff is set pre-canon, with no yuna in sight) but I never finished and/or posted them because I always felt shaky on yuna's characterisation. I don't think I've majorly struggled with anyone in ffxv to the point that I've felt too dissatisfied with characterisation to post. but at the same time I'm sure none of them are actually perfectly right xD but they FEEL more or less right to me, which is all I care about.

32. Who’s the one character who shines without you even trying?

noct. I mean. he's my blorbo for a reason xD my beloved, I relate to him so much and the rest of it I just project lololol. I make a point to not actually just write myself as noct, cos I personally ain't about that, but it feels very easy to write him without needing to think too deeply about his thoughts/feelings/reactions most of the time. they feel instinctual to me, even when it's something that would differ from my own thoughts/feelings/reactions if I was in a similar situation.

50. Has writing fanfic had a significant impact on your life? Would you say it’s entirely positive?

YES and the answer to this question is one of the reasons antis/purity culture upsets me so fucking much. it's a personal/sensitive answer though so skip if you don't want to read that xD but. reading rape/sexual abuse & aftermath fics as a teenager is what helped me to understand that, even though there was no outright rape happening, I was still being abused. seeing my favourite characters have the courage to tell someone about their abuse and get help is what encouraged me to tell one of my friends during an AIM conversation late one night when I was sixteen, and she convinced me to tell my therapist at my next appointment, who then told my mom, and yeah let's just say that was a very significant and eventually positive impact (it was a rocky road) on my life. if none of that had happened I genuinely think the CSA would have continued escalating into eventual rape. so thank FUCK for fanfic and I seethe with rage every time some shitfuck anti tries to claim there's no good to be found in such fics. plus in general it just helps with my mental health and I've made plenty of friends through fic over the years, even if they come and go I'm still grateful to have known them for that time, and writing fic is the one thing that gives life any meaning for me, etc. so yeah I'd say at least 99% positive.

and now, I will add a few to answer, because you said I could lmao

7. What’s the fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

it is a toss-up between horizon road, an ffx fic featuring a toxic, fucked up relationship between tidus and auron that I still really love, or endless skies, a really self-indulgent digimon fic. they're both old at this point, horizon road I started in 2005, and endless skies was in 2016. horizon road suffers from me having no solid ideas for it beyond the three chapters I wrote, and endless skies is painfully fully outlined, but it was such a hard, research-intensive fic to write for a number of reasons, and now looking at it also just reminds me of an ex-friend who I feel very negative towards (because I talked to them a lot while plotting/writing and they even wrote some of the smut scenes for me, though I've since removed those) and even if I wasn't still deeply entrenched in ffxv, I don't think I could bring myself to ever work on it again :/ which sucks because I did adore it very much.

35. Have you ever written a ship into a fic without meaning to?

…okay, I think anyone who has read shadows growing and then has also read or even looked at my ignoct fics knows that the ignoct is very much present in shadows growing gjdskgjsk as much as I will swear up and down it's platonic, and people certainly can take it that way if they want, like. come on. it's there. at a point, it very much was intentional. BUT. it did start out accidental. the og prompt asked for either gen or OT4 and I don't ship OT4 so I was gonna do gen but noct and ignis kept blurring the lines when I started writing scenes with them gdsjkgdjkl aaaaand actually I didn't start monsters with the intention of it being ignoct either. (the ignoct bits in the first chapter I actually added in a rewrite of that chapter lmao.) nor the tiny little epilogue in heavy is the burden that nudges into hinting at ignoct territory. fuck, even the ignoct in my very first ffxv wasn't meant to be so overt as it was gjdsklgjks there's also tiny hints of it in some of my fayth's daddy issues week fics (not counting the one that's deliberately and stated to be ignoct).

…actually now that I'm writing this I'm realising very little of my ignoct has been deliberately planned at the start 😂 the sequel to shadows growing, grey skies, was planned, at least xD the promptio that shows up towards the end of the fic was an accident though gjsdkgljslk it just. happened??? I didn't even LIKE promptio when I started writing that fic. huh. maybe accidental shipping is just my thing in writing ffxv fics.

40. Do you feel like you put out enough content?

wanted to answer this one, because, I'm NOT talking in terms of other people here. I don't mean to sound dismissive or ungrateful, because I do appreciate the people who read my fics, it makes me happy, but like. it's not why I write OR post. I'm not "producing content" for people; if someone is unhappy with me for not posting more fics, that's their problem. but in terms of myself… yeah, I do wish I had more to post. not because I feel like I've got some kind of arbitrary quota to meet. like, quite frankly, I have over a million words of fic posted on ao3, and given that I have a single unposted fic that's over 600K alone, I'm positive I have at least 2mil total words written. it's just that I wish I could write more consistently/frequently? I feel like I never write as much as I want to, and I know a lot of it is because of my worsening health, so maybe that's why I just feel so frustrated and dissatisfied with my output, but man, sometimes I look at my number of posted works on ao3 and feel like it's such a low number for how long I've been writing ): both for ffxv specifically and for all my fics total. I know it's silly, but the feeling persists nonetheless.

thank you again for the ask!! I feel happy getting to answer questions and ramble about my fics :D and it was really fun to think about my answers and realise a thing or two haha.

[altocat]

Im reading the Howl’s Moving Castle book and was wondering what AGSZC’s favorite ghibli movie would be?

Hhhh I still need to read the book! One of these days I will sit down and do it! I also haven't seen The Boy and The Heron yet so it will not feature here.

Anyway...

Angeal: Princess Mononoke. Because it's a serious story with a serious message that Angeal considers upholding "honor" in that it respects nature.

Sephiroth: Kiki's Delivery Service. Because it's safe and wholesome and everyone's just so nice and warm and cuddly that even a grouchy edgelord like Seph is completely won over.

Genesis: Howl's Moving Castle. Like the rest of us, Genesis probably experienced his first sexual awakening due to Howl being...Howl. And decided to imitate the big lovable drama queen for the rest of his life.

Zack: Laputa/Castle in the Sky. He likes the adventure. And his relationship with Aerith is oddly reminiscent of Pazu and Sheeta!

Cloud: Spirited Away. Much like Chihiro, Cloud ALSO goes on a coming of age adventure filled with trauma and strange imagery. Also he thinks the soot-balls are cute.

[marshmallowprotection]

wait fuck I've seen the image with saeran and saeyoung in the hospital a million times how did I only just realize saeyoung's face is bruised wait fuck fuck HHHH

also i always feel bad SE saeran looks so sad 😭 im a saeyoung mc but i need BOTH my boys to be happy dammit

Oh, yeah. Saeyoung has taken a beating from his brother because he wants that to happen. He knows that Saeran wants retribution for all the pain he's suffered, and it doesn't matter what the truth is, the only comfort for Saeran will come when he's gotten his revenge. That's the way he feels.

Saeyoung is willing to take anything that's thrown at him because that's the kind of person he is.

If it helps his brother, he'll take every single beating, even if it's from Saeran's hand. It's that fact that will eventually cause Saeran to figure out that Saeyoung couldn't have lied to him about everything... if he's that willing to die for Saeran's happiness... then he couldn't have lied when he said he sold his soul to the agency, thinking that it would be the way out for the two of them.

But, in the hospital?

Saeran lashes out at everyone, Saeyoung included because he's a caged animal who can't have his trauma properly treated. If he were to reveal what he suffered over the course of his life, Saejoong would find him and that would be the end of his story. He doesn't want the help, but he can't get the help he needs due to these circumstances, too. Saeyoung can't help him any more than the hospital can, but he did what he could.

The only thing he could do—Get Saeran away from his inevitable death even though he knew that Saeran needed to be with doctors who know how to help him.

[shokujin-art]

on my knees thanking the heavens for eden content from you, i was literally just searching through his tag on tumblr for food and refreshed my dash- BOOM there's my boy. glad my M!PC isnt the only other cow boy playing housewife with him 😩 his soft moments make meUGHHUDHJ. first getting the radio?? offering to wash PC for the first time in return?? traumatized PC going to him for comfort!? i'm gonna go lay in the road now i cAN'T-

HHHH yess !! Cozing up his cabin so it's quite warm and lively, building up the loveseat together, going to the lake and just staring at the sky on the floating boat AAAhhh— Did the christmas event for the first time with him and that was super sweet. Didn't get yet the trauma comfort with him, at least he'll finally save my cow from the constant visit at the asylum <<"

[dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy]

dean x reader season 2 headcanons

the more we go into the seasons, the more these will be a doozy hhhh these boys are depressing but i love them hehe ok lets go

-being there for him in the hospital, or him being there for you. if you take the canonical route of plot, dean is in a coma because of the trauma from the accident. maybe you’re waiting by his side, hand in hand, helping sam try to talk to him from the other side. maybe you’re talking to his doctors, checking up on him and asking what you can do once he wakes up. and dean sees you too. you know how his almost-astral-projection allows him to walk freely...well he takes notice and it makes and breaks his heart, seeing you so attentive but so worried. maybe he’s talking to you from the other side, telling you to stop worrying, and making some joke at you. or maybe, the situation is flipped and you’re in a coma. maybe he never leaves your side by the hospital bed, and essentially, shuts down because of his worries about you. he draws his fingers along your exposed forearm, yearning for touch. but when you do wake, or when he wakes, you are most definitely the first person he goes to hug when his father dies. and you are there for him throughout all his stages of grief.

-motherfucker got himself into jail, and you are there for him on the outside. he refused to let you go to prison yourself, but you feed him information through the visitors center. you may be tense, looking at this situation, but he takes the opportunity to crack a bunch of jokes to keep you calm. he also just wants to see you laugh

“Dean, I’m serious.”

“Sweetheart, I am too, but I’m kind of rockin’ the jumper right now. Maybe orange is my color.” 

-you and dean in Hollywood. while you guys are in the middle of a case, no one said you couldn't do a little sight-seeing. hell, maybe you guys make a little day trip to disney land or universal. maybe you go to see the hollywood sign, and one of you definitely runs into someone famous and you both geek out about it. a drive through 90210, and do some day dreaming. you both talk about how you’d end up so rich and famous, and choose which house or apartment you’d buy that you pass. maybe you both stop by the beach, grab some grub, and make a day out of exploring. and hell, maybe you get a part in the movie they're shooting, that the boys help work on for the case. maybe dean sees you working lines or in your costume, and he cant help but smile and think its the coolest thing ever. 

[asrisgratitudejournal]

Sakit

Haha tulisan terakhir literally 9 Maret 2023 dan hari ini sudah 21 Maret. 12 hari menghilang lagi??? Kenapa sih Non hobinya menghilang mulu. Iya. Gara-gara harus ngerespon reviewer ini nih, ku avoidant banget. Terus sejak hari Rabu minggu lalu (15 Maret) ku bangun tidur tenggorokan sakit dan sampai sekarang batuk-batuk dan hidung tersumbat. Pusing juga dan mata berair banget. Kalau dengar suara-ku ngomong sangat bindeng. Setiap pagi udah minum Paracetamol, Loratadine (just in case ini teh w alergi sama pollen dan peralihan ke Spring), nyemprotin Beconase, sama minum multivitamin juga buat imun (HAHA karena ngetik ini jadi keingetan belum transfer bayar vitamin ke Mas Daus). Semalam tidur 12 jam kayanya. Kemarin hari Sabtu dan Minggu juga. Bagus sih semakin banyak tidur semakin cepat harusnya recovery. Ku lagi ngasih batas waktu kalau sampai hari Jumat ini nggak membaik juga, ku akan booking GP. HHHH capek banget gaksih sakit tuh. Terutama kalau lagi jadi anak rantau gini ☹

Terus tadi bahas ini juga sama Prama dan Hanif, ini udah sakit ke-2 winter ini lho. Apa emang crazy si weathernya dan sistem imun semua orang gara-gara efek covid apa akunya yang stres? Karena 2 tahun sebelumnya ku hampir gapernah sakit??? Se-ngasal apapun makan dan jam tidur ya InsyaAllah sehat-sehat aja. Kayanya ku kualat juga taken it for granted makanya sekarang kena akibatnya deh.

Yaudah mau rekap aja dalam 12 hari terakhir apa yang terjadi:

Weekend minggu lalu ada ulangtahun Gilang di Shiraz. Apparently ulang tahun terakhir dia sebagai bachelor karena this May dia bakal menikah ceunah, which doesn’t make sense for me at all ngebagi periode hidup pra-nikah dan pasca-nikah as if it is such a big deal (IT IS of course, karena kita akan share our life with other people after nikah, tapi it shouldn’t be THAT big no? Atau ku aja yang belum bisa relate *shrug*). Yang dateng dinner ada Kevin, Nando, dan Rafi. Sangat lucu hangout sama adik-adik ini semua. Gilang sempat nanya “lo cewek sendiri gapapa Non?” yang mana w jawab “nda papa banget? emangnya kenapa???” tapi balik lagi tidak semua orang ‘biasa’ dengan pemandangan perempuan sendiri di 1 group of boys apparently, jadi ku maklumi. Makanannya b aj, tapi ku suka banget eskrim safronnya! Dan tehnya juga. Huhu terima kasih Gilang!

Hari Minggu malam ada acara nonton film bareng PPI Oxford, kita nonton NKCTHI yang cukup bagus. Intinya itu filem si bapaknya trauma dumping aja ke keluarganya. Very common Indonesian family. Ku bisa relate banget sama anak pertamanya yaitu Angkasa yang dapet beban sebanyak itu dari orangtua buset. Gara-gara nonton ini jadi jalan banyak dan sepertinya membuat badan enakan (atau malah memperparah karena jalan jam 10 malam dingin 5derajat? Entahlah).

The whole week I literally just slept and stayed in the bed. Terutama si hari Rabu itu. Kamis agak enakan sih diajak Bu Yani buat jalan-jalan ke Bicester, lumayan senang. Jumat makan kebab baru Rozana di covered market sama mas Daus, sangat enak! Dan murah juga seharga sama kaya Najar’s. Mas Daus baru beres Jumatan terus sembari menunggu, ku minum hot chocolate di Colombia (yang adalah sangat enak??? Lebih enak dari Knoops? Kemana aja saya). Random ketemu Aisha dan Rashid eh kecipratan 1kg kurma baik banget orang-orang huhu. Dari makan kebab jadi ngobrol banyak banget ngalor ngidul terutama terkait jodoh gitu-gitu. Senang banget tiap curhat ke orang yang jauh lebih berpengalaman dalam hidup tuh: sangat menenangkan aja. Dari situ barulah ke Radcam buat ngerjain response sedapetnya sebelum dikirim ke Joost jumat evening lol.

Minggu kemarinnya lagi weekend dateng pengajian doang ke rumah Ayesha dan Mas Firman. Senang karena banyak makan makanan enak dan ketemu banyak orang yang biasanya ga kutemuin juga. Pembahasannya agak berat, sesungguhnya ku kangen materi pengajiannya Gilang huhu. Sabtunya ngapain ya…? Nyelesein theglory kayanya.

Oh dari tulisan terakhir yang kupost di VHL itu malemnya lanjut makan sushi di Edamame sama Dini (yang baru kutemui malamnya di formal dinner lol). Sangat senang juga sih ketemu orang baru.

Kemarin ke BSG ketemu gubernur BI makan nasi kuning pake rendang. Dapet luxury dijemput sama Bu Yani juga dari rumah wah.

Kalau direkap gini ternyata banyak juga ya yang w kerjakan dalam 10 hari terakhir. Ga yang betul-betul menghilang. Barusan juga habis ditraktir kopi oleh Isabelle. Random banget baru nyalain laptop habis lunch di Linacre sama Hanif dan Prama terus tiba-tiba Joost datang dan ngajak ngopi bareng jadi w iya-in aja. Di luar cuacanya lagi sangat bagus, jadi senang.

Dah untuk sekarang itu dulu aja yang ingin ku laporkan. Habis ini mau ke covered market ketemu sama Dza lagi ke UK. Bye all! Hope you have a great week ahead & happy Ramadan too!!! 30.18 (tumben sendirian orang-orang pada ga ke office) 21/03/2023 14:53pm

[necroticghost]

I'm not going to be okay if I keep on thinking about all of the dying people all around the world.

I feel like my problems are actually meek and unimportant next to like. death, existential crisis, murder, organized murder, inhumane acts, apathy and all

can you believe that people would JUST. send others death threats? and like that isn't too big to worry about, those are just kids. no adults really behave like that, but like.

FUCK. never search for the standard chicken maceration process that video fucked me up

the fact that I can't genuinely tell whether this is something that is wrong Wrong WRONG.

or if there's like some way to cope with it makes it horrifying sure, but oh my god I just can't imagine the trauma and the pain of being fed to the grinder I need to throw up

I can imagine myself in that position

The fact that it always seemed to me as if there was some kind of.

Choice to be had in death. Like it was a puzzle, and if you were smart enough you'd be saved always gave me this sense of safety or maybe hope.

like I could CHOOSE to not get murdered. or to cope with it. I had a choice in how to handle it and I had the power in me to be able to lie through it, or take it.

but oh my god they're just. bred. they're NEWBORNS. newborns don't have COPING MECHANISMS FOR BEING FED TO THE GRINDER?????? THEY'RE JUST SMALL GUYS FOR FUCKS SAKE.

I can't do anything while they're being shredded alive this is awful

no no no no n on. O n o no n o n o n .

my poor precious children my baby boys

oh, what have they done to you?

cruelty cruelty cruelty. this is all too much for them. they're alive, they're breathing. my GOD.

and uh. hence the crisis since we're gonna die in a painful way whether we like it or not.

at some point

100 years isnt like "a manageable distance to put between that like, one day where you'll die whoopsie"

100 years is all I have

100 years is what I have to wait towards to get massacrated

100 years is something that will pass until death looks ME in the eyes

you know I thought suicide was for like painful death, but that was wrong

I was scared of suicide because I would have to be in pain for that

I'll be in pain regardless.

and d oughhhhh hhhh oh god everyone I know will be DEAD in 200 years. those fucking twinks my god.

being an atheist can ruin a person because I can no longer speak to my dead grandmother in my thoughts and be convinced she heard me and so did Jesus Christ

had this in my inbox for a while and I just couldn't bring myself to reply, I am extremely sensitive to gore and it physically hurts me when I hear either about people or animals hurting like it hurts it really really hurts and I go into a deeply distressed mode

I wish no pain would ever exist. I am so thankful I'm vegetarian idk I don't even want to think about that whole process :/ poor little babies oh god

and your problems are valid! as long as it hurts you it is valid and it is no use to compare the pain. the world is a cruel place, if only people communicated more they could avoid so much unnecessary suffering... I'm so sorry that you can't even find comfort in those things anymore :(

[kiwiwritescrap]

ive been gone for a over week but whatever dw abt it, this is a loooong chapter.

ahahahahahah more of this backstory explanation thing that has blossomed into a series, which I am going to be calling… uh… uhm… *spins tiny wheel* er… Broken Brotherhood? Yeah, that… that works. Part Three of the Broken Brotherhood series! (tw: injury, broken bones, hunting, blood)

Sam shot up. clasping a hand to his forehead. Where am I? Why was it so hot? He looked around and remembered where he was. He sat against the wall, only to lurch forward. Right… my wings. “Ow…” He groaned.

“You’re awake!” Ex turned his head, looking up from what he was doing. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t wake up, you’ve been out for ages!”

“How long was I asleep?” Sam asked groggily.

“Hm, about a day, give or take.” Ex said, leaning on his workbench. “You’re adjusting. Time works differently here.”

“My head hurts…” Sam blinked a few times.

“You hit it a few times while you were sleeping last night. You were thrashing around like mad.” He said.

“I was?” Sam asked.

“Being here messes with your head. With all you went through I’d assume you had some nightmares.” Ex said. Sam shuddered, remembering the monochrome images that had flashed through his mind all night. His brother laughing as Sam was pulled away, hundreds of eyes watching him, arms ripping at his wings.

“You get used to them.” Ex noticed his discomfort.

“Do they… do they go away?” Sam stared at the floor.

“I… I wish I could say they did.” Ex sighed. “Come on, can you stand?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Sam shakily got to his feet and almost fell, then stabilized himself. Ex handed him a crossbow.

“Ever hunted for hoglins before?” He asked.

“No, I can’t say I have.” Sam said.

“I know you just got here, but we’ve gotta eat somehow.” Ex opened the door, and Sam followed him back to the crimson forest where Sam had fallen a day prior. Ex dropped to his knees behind a fallen log and pulled Sam down beside him. “See that thing?” He pointed to a large, boar-like creature grazing on red mushrooms. It had wrinkly pinkish skin, brittle-looking black hairs growing like spines on it’s back, and scraped but sharp horns. “That’s a hoglin.”

“It looks scary.” Sam noted.

“They can be pretty dangerous if you’re unarmed, but they’re pretty easy to kill.” Ex loaded a crossbow and aimed it at the creature. He pulled the trigger and the arrow flew forward, sticking into the creature’s side. It let out a squeal and fell over, dead. Ex covered it in leaves. “We’ll come back for that. I want to get one more.” They walked for awhile and came around a bend in the cliffside. Another hoglin was grazing nearby. “Your turn.” Ex pointed at the beast. Sam gulped. He had never even thought of killing something, let alone something that was just minding it’s own business.

“I- I don’t know about this, we already got the one-” Sam said.

“No, you need to get used to things like these. The Nether is dangerous and you have to do what’s necessary to survive.” Ex said firmly.

“O-okay.” Sam took a shaky breath and aimed his crossbow. His finger hovered over the trigger. He closed his eyes and pulled it quickly, but he flinched. The arrow hit the ground just in front of the hoglin. It looked up and noticed Sam and Ex, and charged at them. It tackled Sam and he fell to the ground. Suddenly, the beast was thrown off of him. Ex was slashing at it with a sword, but the creature retaliated and charged again, one of it’s horns punctured a weak spot in the side of his armor. He collapsed, blood trickling from the puncture in his side. The hoglin reared it’s head, about to crush him. Ex, clutching his side, swiftly shoved his sword upward and into the hoglin’s chest. It fell, dead. Ex stood up and walked over to Sam, who was standing to the side, guilt clouding his mind.

“What was that?!” Ex shouted. “I told you to take the shot!”

“I’m sorry, I-I got scared! I’ve never even fired a crossbow before!” Sam tried to argue.

“I almost got killed! You have to be decisive here or else you aren’t going to survive!” Ex continued.

“I-” Sam’s eyes welled up with tears, which instantly evaporated.

“It’s fine, just… forget about it.” Ex dragged the hoglin’s corpse back to where the other dead monster was covered and picked that up as well. They walked in silence back to Ex’s house. Ex piled the dead hoglins in a shed and went inside and sat down, unbuckling the straps of his armor. He lifted his shirt, revealing the puncture wound the hoglin’s horn had left. He winced, and began wrapping bandages around his midsection. His hand seized up, and he dropped the roll of bandages.

“Do you want help?” Sam asked reluctantly

“I can… I can take care of myself.” Ex shook his head, picking up and immediately dropping the bandages.

“Let me help. It’s the least I can do. Sam picked up the bandages and finished wrapping Ex’s wound. “There, that should be better.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Ex said, putting on his armor again and walking over to his workbench, and began fixing his crossbow, as it had been trampled by the hoglin. “Ugh, I need more string. I’m going to the market, want to come with me?”

“Sure, why not.” Sam stood and followed Ex to the edge of the lava lake. Ex whistled, and two strange creatures came walking forward. They were red, with long legs and large black eyes. Each had a saddle on it’s back. Ex handed Sam a fishing rod with a teal mushroom on the end.

“Use this to steer.” Ex helped Sam climb onto the back of the creature, and climbed onto the other. He cast the mushroom forward and the creature walked forward. Sam did the same and began traversing the boiling sea of magma. Sam bounced upon the creature’s back, trying to hold himself steady. Soon, they reached a central island, covered in stalls and tables. He and Ex walked into the crowded streets. Sam stayed close to his friend, not wanting to get lost. Smells of spices and smoke rose from nearby stall. Someone tried to sell Sam a box of purple powder. Ex walked swiftly through the crowded square, Sam holding onto his arm. Eventually they reached a stand selling textiles. Ex grabbed a spool of string and gave the vendor a couple gold coins before grabbing Sam’s hand and dragging him back through the packed streets. They returned to their striders and back home.

“Hungry?” Ex asked. Sam nodded, and his friend lit a fire outside and began roasting some of the hoglin from earlier. When he was done, he handed Sam a piece.

“Thanks.” Sam said. He wolfed it down, realizing that he hadn’t eaten anything for three whole days.

“Drink this.” Ex gave him a cup of steaming, orangish liquid. Sam sniffed it and took a sip, and almost spat it out. It was sour and bitter, tasting of burnt coffee. He swallowed anyway, and he found his thirst quenched completely. “Yeah, it tastes bad, I know, but it’s the closest thing we have to water.”

“What is it?” Sam asked.

“It’s the liquid extracted from crimson roots. I would use the warped roots, but they’re harder to harvest with the endermen.” Ex shrugged. “Get some rest, your wings are still healing.” Sam nodded and went inside, lying down in his bed. A numb pain still stung his back, but was less noticeable now. He closed his eyes, and was sucked away by the nightmares. The same monochrome images, same cackling voices, same eyes and grasping arms tearing away at him. A set of hands shoved him backwards. He fell deeper and into the dark pit, trying to flap his wings, which were turned to ash as he flailed in the air. He hit the ground, which shattered on impact. Sam shot up in his bed and screamed. He heard a door swing open, quick footsteps rushing towards him. A blue light illuminated Ex’s face, painted with a look of distress.

“Sam? Are you okay?” Ex asked.

“I-I’m okay, just… just go back to sleep.” Sam waved him away.

“Nightmares?” He asked. Sam said nothing, but nodded. “Hm. Well, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but what do you see?” Sam took a breath, and explained all he had seen and heard. His brother, the voices, his wings burning away. Ex sat beside him, listening, a hand resting on Sam’s shoulder.

“It was the same last time. Every time I close my eyes, I see him.” Sam spat. “That lousy, weakling excuse for a brother.” He said aloud.

“I still see him sometimes. My brother.” Ex sighed. “I remember his face before he pushed me in, I’ll never forget it.”

“What was it like?” Sam asked.

“He was… he was angry. And broken. And so was I. There were so many other ways we could have resolved what happened, if he had listened to me-” Ex stopped.

“It’s okay.” Sam said.

“If he had listened to me and let me continue what I was doing I could have saved everyone who had been lost from my… miscalculation.” He sighed.

“Why did you make a deal in the first place, if you don’t mind me asking?” Sam questioned.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I already told you, I lost someone I cared about.” Ex moved away from Sam, moving his hand. Sam wondered if he should press him for information, or not say anything.

“You’re hurting.” Sam could sense his friend’s grief and pain. “Your partner. That’s who you lost, isn’t it?”

“How did you- never mind. I told you I don’t want to talk about it.” Ex crossed his arms, tucking his knees to his chest.

“I know it’s hard, and I know you don’t want to. But you need to. You never got a good chance to, your brother was too busy. Open wounds fester if left untreated.” Sam sighed.

“I- I’m not ready yet.” Ex said. “But when I am, I’ll tell you.”

“I understand.” Sam nodded. “Get some sleep.” Ex stood up, taking his lantern and leaving. Sam laid down and closed his eyes, his nightmares not returning.

“Wake up.” Ex said, shaking Sam awake.

“Huh?” Sam blinked, rubbing his eyes.

“We’re going hoglin hunting again.” He said.

“Didn’t we do that yesterday?” Sam sat up.

“Yes, but I want to get some to sell, and collect some more crimson roots.” Ex said, handing Sam his crossbow. As the two walked into the crimson woods, Sam was determined. I’m going to do it today. I’m not going to let Ex down. I won’t miss. They came across a small herd of hoglins. Hiding in a patch of grass, Ex began to aim his crossbow. Sam stopped him.

“Let me.” He whispered. Ex looked slightly surprised, but shrugged. Sam took a deep breath and aimed at a lone hoglin on the outskirts of the herd. He pulled the trigger, and with a snap, it fired. The arrow soared forward and hit the beast. With a squeal, it fell, dead. Sam winced slightly.

“Good job.” Ex said. “Certainly better than last time.”

“T-thanks.” Sam said. He felt a new feeling in his chest. Warm, like he fit somewhere. Belonging.

To Be Continued…

[asfdhgsdkjhgb]

is it really an incredibly close queer friendship without occasional *fboy face* flirtatious jokes and a slight underlying tension that you all know is there but refuse to address

[kurakaji]

I like boys 😳

[cloudsrust]

About to research this new abnormality, wish me luck 🤞

I already have a lot of wips and projects in the works.. so of course I wouldn't let myself work on yet another thing- especially on something born from an extremely random idea where I put together my current interest with a dormant one.. which got nothing to do with one another-

of course I wouldn't.. of course I-

...

I did it.

[ackerfics]

effervescent (i) — eren jaeger.

chapter i ; a constellation of miracles.

— eren jaeger x female reader (encanto au)

— warnings: angst. generational trauma.

— series summary: a young boy of fifteen seeks to save their dying miracle, never realizing that during his little adventure, he finds out the truth about the disappearance of his father, the seer of their little town.

— chapter summary: meet the enchanted family of the jaegers.

— word count: 6.5k

— notes: this is an experiment, to say the least. let's just say this is the pilot chapter of this mini series (i know, i'm starting another one when tpt and sunshine aren't finished yet yikes) so i don't know if some of you guys will like this hejnej. this will mainly focus on eren and reader's youngest son but i assure you that there will be moments between you and dilf!eren that will make the butterflies flutter like no tomorrow. tbh, this is purely for fun because encanto earned a special place in my heart and i didn't think too much in making this series but we all know that in the long run, i'll take this seriously hhhh enjoy reading, loves !!

reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated !! <3

Caspian Jaeger looks exactly like his father.

There’s no shed of you in his features. It’s a fact that his brothers have leverage over him. The eldest among the three of them got all of your facial features while the second eldest inherited your eyes and shade of tresses. The longer Caspian stares at the mirror, the more he sees a younger version of the famed Seer of Paradis rather than a completely different person (courtesy of the photo albums you have of your teenage memories that the boy found). The brown, shaggy hair, the blindingly turquoise irises, and the almost-angry default expression on his face — make him feel awful. He has every right to feel this way, knowing that the man disappeared from his life when he needed him the most. Caspian can’t forget your sobs the morning after his father’s departure, his aunt Mikasa supporting your head on her shoulder. They echo like the monsters his oldest brother tease him about.

That was the time he detested anything related to Eren Jaeger.

The young boy of fifteen tries smiling in front of the mirror, his casual clothing pristine and free of creases and his hair still damp from his morning shower. Caspian puffs his chest a little to make himself look bigger — stronger. His side of the family needs someone to continue standing in as their absent father. Caspian slowly blinks at the image the mirror conjures, pushing past the haunting similarities he has with his dad. Instead, he thinks of you. He has to make you, his soft-hearted and amazing mother, proud. Then, the morning chime of the grandfather clock rings around the house. But before you, he has to make his grandfather proud.

So, with a deep breath, Caspian smiles with full confidence. “I have to make my family proud.”

The morning bustle of their little walled town officially starts at this minute. He can hear the neighing of horses and the honking of the donkeys from his window on the second floor. The sunrise hasn’t even peeked over the top of the rocky walls. The sky is still painted a cornflower blue, the telltale signs that the sun will be here any minute. The magic thrumming through the walls of their house beckons Caspian towards the door. He shakes his head at the inanimate object trying to communicate with him by giving him the urge to start the day. His hand hovers over the golden doorknob, the reflection of his father once again staring back at him. The boy shakes his head, running his finger through his hair.

“Don’t think about him, Caz,” he murmurs to himself.

The door shuts behind him. The many spices waft in the air and Caspian instantly knows that his older brother has long since stepped foot in the kitchen. That’s the older boy’s domain after all. The house is livelier than ever. Much livelier than regular days.

And there Caspian realizes the reason why he keeps seeing his father on every looking glass.

It’s the day his younger cousin gets her gift. That’s why her bed was empty when he woke up earlier.

Again, no thinking about negative things today.

Caspian inwardly shakes his head and sprawls his daily schedule in his head. His first stop is you.

He walks under the arching hallways of their little castle, avoiding the house’s attempts at decorating itself. A non-glowing door stands in front of him and with a knock, he peeks his head through the small crack. “Hey, Mom,” he greets, still not entering your room.

You turn from assorting through the laundry basket and a smile lights up the entire room at the sight of your youngest. It’s no secret that your favorite is Caspian, as evidenced by your overly doting nature when he’s around. It’s one of the reasons why his eldest brother scoffs at him every mealtime because you’re the one who puts food on Caspian’s plate as if the boy can’t do it himself. It’s also not a secret that Caspian enjoys your attention but sometimes, he reminds you that he’s old enough to do things on his own. He’s not blind. He knows that you’re doing this because he’s the only one who doesn’t have anything extraordinary in his veins. Ever since his gift-receiving ceremony ten years ago, you’re always there by his side. You’re his mother, yes, but you also stood as his father through the years after his real one dipped.

“Good morning, treasure,�� you beam, and Caspian has to squint his eyes at the brightness of your smile.

“Good morning, Mom! Just checking up on you.” He nods his head at the stack of used clothes on the floor. “Do you need some help?”

You shake your head, waving your hand without looking at your son. “I got this, love. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Whatever you say, Mom,” Caspian sings, turning to the door.

“Are you feeling alright today?”

His hand flinches over the doorknob. He doesn’t even have to turn around to witness the sympathetic expression on your face. He knows you always worry about him because of his lack of a gift but this day might have solidified it. A turmoil of emotions continues to churn inside his stomach. Caspian so badly wants to tell you that he feels envious, dejected, upset, nervous — but he chooses not to. So, he turns around and flashes the best smile he can ever show for this day. The boy sees how you flinch and he mutters an apology in his head. “I’m alright, Mom.” I have to be. “You don’t have to worry about me.” He returns your words to you and again, he internally says sorry for being closed off. He reminds himself that he doesn’t have to burden you more with his personal problems, especially when this day is so special to his aunt’s side of the family. Still, the look on your face compels him to let everything out.

“Are you sure, sweetie? You know you can talk to me about what’s bothering you, right?” Now, you’re putting aside your task for him.

He chuckles at your concern. “I’m really fine, Mom. Uhm, I gotta go. The house isn’t going to decorate itself.” Then, he senses the disappointed sulk of the house surrounding the room. Caspian rolls his eyes before patting the wall as a way of apologizing. He fixes you with a lighthearted lift of his shoulders. “I better go, Mom, there’s still so much to do.”

“Okay, treasure. I love you — always remember that,” you remind him.

The regular door then closes and you’re left alone with silence — the very thing that became your companion when Eren disappeared from the family ten years ago. You keep sorting out the laundry in a drone.

There was a time when your side of the family radiated homeliness; how the halls of your house wing reverberated with laughter and gleeful shouts from your children. You can still see Eren crying when your eldest was born, how he gushed that your baby boy looked exactly like you just like he always wished. He whispers to your first son every night, telling the toddler that he would grow up as beautiful as his mommy. Eren’s excitement never deterred at the birth of your second baby boy. Again, he marveled at how the baby got your eyes, saying that they were shining like yours. Then little Caspian was welcomed to the world and he was in awe. A baby that finally looked like him. He was once again crying beside you while hugging Caspian close to his chest, thanking you in a mantra.

He thanked you for giving him a family that’s more than just a constellation, a galaxy separate from the Jaeger family his father established. He thanked you for loving him unconditionally when he thought he never deserved love. He thanked you for being effervescent and pulchritudinous, for being his luminary when all is dark.

Eren loved his three children (even though he still wished for a girl) so much, always at their beck and call when they wanted to play and study. He was there at the gift-receiving ceremonies of the two older boys, hugging you tightly from behind at the anticipation of the special magic bestowed because of their brilliance. He was their role model — their hero.

You play them in your mind like a highlight reel even though it squeezes your chest and it’s getting harder to breathe. Drops of starlight trail down your cheeks as you once again spiral into a pit of missing your husband.

You just want him back home.

Wherever he is, you hope that your wishes reach him and that they’re strong enough to compel him to complete this little galaxy he made. It hurts you to see your sons become detached from the idea of having him home again. It’s almost as if they never acknowledge him as their father, seeing as more than half of their lives, you stood as both of their parents. Nobody even mentions his name in the Jaeger household, a taboo word that’s associated with being a devil of clairvoyance. When someone does, out of an accident, you see the flicker of disdain on your eldest son and the indifference from your second. What pierces you is the anger on your youngest, a look that’s so achingly familiar.

It’s been ten years but the ache feels fresh.

You feel him around you but you have to remind yourself he’s never here.

So, you steel yourself and dry your tears. This day should be perfect for Mikasa’s side of the family. You bury the pining and pain deep in your chest, letting silence be your friend again.

-

The sun hasn’t risen yet but the clanging and shuffling in the kitchen are already creating a symphony on the first floor of the house.

“Good morning, Aran!” Caspian announces with a grin that’s way too big on the boy’s face. “What a fine day, right?”

Aran Jaeger is a combination of you and Eren. The facial shape and nose that he inherited from Eren are completely balanced by your hair color and noticeable eyes. If one were to look closely at his face, they’d say that he’s surely almost a mirror image of his father. However, what stands out from this boy is his warmhearted nature. Given the miracle of healing, Aran developed a love for cooking since he was still a toddler snug within your embrace. He was looking at you with stars in his eyes whenever you maneuver in the kitchen, preparing the meals for the huge family. Because of this, he was dubbed ‘little helper’ by Eren, who adored staring at you in front of the stove with Aran on your hip. After getting his gift, he thought it would be best if he channeled it through cooking — that way, he can learn from you and spend most of his time by your side.

Now, at eighteen, Aran carries the medical support of the entire town of Paradis, inheriting the role of the resident doctor from Grisha. A position he has to live up to.

Clad in his signature loose knitted jacket, its pockets filled to the brim with herbs and spices, Aran turns around at the call of his name.

“Did you drink the chamomile tea I brewed for you last night?” Aran asks while kneading the dough on the counter. “I didn’t see the mug I lent you here.” He gestures at the array of mugs on the open cabinet, a rainbow of various designs that match with each member of the family.

Caspian nervously laughs. “I did finish it but I forgot to bring the mug back here.”

The older boy hums. “How many cups, glasses, or mugs do you have there now? You know that our house can’t transport things, right?” Aran adds more flour to the counter and dough, glancing at the pot of boiling water for the morning coffee.

“I’d like to say less than five but that would mean I’m lying.”

“You have to clean your room, Cas,” Aran laments. “Goldie is moving out of there and you don’t have Aunt Mikasa to clean up after you now.”

Caspian slumps. “I know. I’ll bring them down here after I do my daily chores.”

“You better,” Aran instructs his younger brother to start cutting the vegetables for the omelet since their younger cousin requested to have her favorite food on the day of her gift-receiving. “Did it help you, though? The chamomile tea?” He voices out when the silence becomes thick. If there’s something that Aran is adept at other than cooking and helping people, it’s knowing when they’re hurting. It’s as if he acquired a second sense for it the moment the door lit up for him. That’s why he makes sure to give Caspian a special meal every time. Even though it looks the same as the others’, he pours his understanding into making Caspian’s share. It’s something that he was wondering about — if his miracle transcends physical wounds and pain. Judging by the bright expression on his younger brother’s face while eating his food after a bad day, it does. “I got the leaves from Levi, you know, courtesy of Aunt Mikasa’s connection.”

“Huh?” Caspian looks up from cutting the vegetables, his shaggy bangs touching his eyelashes. He blows on his hair before answering, “Yeah, it did. I slept better after that. Thanks.”

Warmth spreads through Aran’s chest. “You’re always welcome. I’m glad it soothed you, Caz.”

Aran watches his little brother from the corner of his eyes. As the pile of bread keeps increasing on the countertop, so are his concerns for Caspian. Before Marigold was born, the youngest of the Jaeger children was Caspian, thus, the last ceremony was his. And it didn’t end well. There was no party, no fireworks, no celebration. It was almost a funeral. It baffled Aran that for such an extraordinary boy, the eternally shining key the Jaegers were given didn’t grant him the one thing that separates their family from others. Aran was still eight years old at that time but when he saw his baby brother’s trembling lips at the scrutiny and disappointment, he knew that Caspian’s childhood would never be the same again. The little boy ran towards the nursery, slamming the door shut, the sound echoing through the little castle. That night was when the god of healing of Paradis realized he can make others feel better emotionally with his creations. Even if it was just a little spark within viridian irises, Aran was relieved that Caspian slept great.

“Do you want to help me distribute the food to the townspeople?” Aran inquires without looking up from making another batch of pikert and pretzels. “I’m pretty sure the kids in the town would love to have you in the stand today.”

Caspian snorts. “Yeah, they’re always asking me about the family.”

“Yet you still humor them.”

The younger boy shrugs. “Well, they’re kids. They’re naturally curious. Years of rooming with Goldie taught me that much.”

“It’s not like this is the first time they asked you about the extraordinary Jaegers.”

“That’s the thing.” Caspian looks up from his task of beating the eggs, his grin wide enough to make the sun rise from the top of the mountain walls. “I love our family, that’s why.”

Blue washes over Aran in a snap. It’s unfair. His mind takes him to the many times their grandfather berated Caspian for being normal. Cruel and merciless. He doesn’t want to see his baby brother looking like a kicked puppy after a sermon from Grisha but he can’t exactly stop the patriarch of the family as well. He can only watch as their grandfather throws passive-aggressive statements to Eren’s youngest son. It’s unfair. Aran looks away with a faux chuckle, a habit he picked up from their golden child of an older brother. “We love you, too, Cassie.”

“Don’t call me that!” Caspian squawks with warm ears.

Aran snickers, now on the task of making some eierkuchen. “Cassie.”

“‘Ran!”

“What?” The rhetorical question makes the younger boy’s cheeks hot to the touch. “It’s a cute nickname. It’s been a long time since somebody called you that, right?”

“Yeah?! I want it to stay that way.”

“Tough luck, Cassie, because it makes me feel nostalgic so you have to suffer.”

Caspian groans, his bottom lip jutting in a pout. He slumps on the counter stool with his finished tasks. The amount of food on top of the counter island and any free surface of the kitchen erases his sulking mood. He stares at the food his brother made before slowly looking down on his contribution — cut vegetables and beaten eggs for the breakfast omelet. Sometimes, he wonders if his brother’s real gift was super-speed since he had been making that much food every day for the past eleven years. Aran amazes him all the time — fulfilling his role without breaking a sweat — always with a calm countenance and never a stressed one despite the urgency.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Caspian casually states, taking an apple from the fruit basket and mindlessly examining it with half-lidded eyes.

“Hmm?” Aran blinks.

The younger boy glances at his big brother. “Ezra doesn’t love me.” At the confused raise of an eyebrow, Caspian clears his throat. “I told you that I love the family and you told me ‘we love you, too’. Ezra doesn’t fit in the ‘we’ part.”

Aran sighs, almost saying here we go again. “Ezra loves you, Caz. He’s … he just has a different way of showing his love for his family.”

Brown hair bounces off Caspian’s forehead as he scoffs. “Yeah. If constantly bullying me amounts to love, that is. I told you, ‘Ran! He hates me!” He bemoans his woes. More like he exaggerates his aggravation of being in Ezra’s hidden personality. Aran only shakes his head at him, which spurs him to make his point again. “I don’t know what I did to make him look at me like I’m the dirt under his shoes but you can’t deny that he hates me. He’s always making me trip over his vines and flowers! Last week, I could hear him groan when I walked inside the bakery for some light snack!”

Aran laughs. “Cassie, since when did you become Helene?”

“Even without super hearing, I can still hear him. He was literally standing in the same space like me! All I did was greet Niccolo normally like any other day and then Ezra goes around and acts like I ruined his life.”

“All I can say is that you should see it from his perspective. It doesn’t hurt to put yourself in somebody else’s shoes sometimes.”

“As long as those shoes aren’t Ezra’s, I’m perfectly fine with it.”

Aran gives up. It’s the same with Ezra. The more that he tries to make the others see that they can push past their differences, the more they get angry and Aran has to put up with it. He loves his brothers, yes, but the two of them are too stubborn to think outside of their respective worlds. There are times when Aran feels like their brotherly bonds are too strained to mend, that there’s no point in saving it when the two just keep on butting heads like they’re on a schedule. Aran plates the omelet on a huge platter for the family, alongside some bacon and a bowl of salad. “I’m just saying. At the end of the day, we’re still brothers. Fighting will just get us nowhere.”

The plating of their breakfast ends with a spoon clinking against a glass bowl. In an instant, Helene, one of their cousins, appears from the kitchen’s entrance. “I heard that breakfast is ready.”

Caspian jumps an inch in the air. He swiftly turns to the older girl with a hand on his chest. “Stop doing that!”

Helene shrugs with an innocent expression. “I can’t help it.”

“How long have you been listening in?”

The older girl purses her lips. “Enough.” Her answer is clipped, putting a stop to the conversation. She perks up before going inside the kitchen with a swish of her long blonde hair. “Aunt Mikasa and Aunt [Name] are arranging the dining room now. Let me help you with that, Aran.”

“Oh, thanks.” The said boy lets his older cousin handle the pitcher of juice and a pot of coffee. “You can carry the bacon and salad, Caz.”

“Sure.”

The three cousins walk beside the stream of sunlight pouring from the open windows. Now that the sun has officially risen, the town of Paradis wakes up with greetings and bright laughter from every corner.

Every once in a while, Helene flinches in between the two boys, even randomly gasping when all the boys can hear are the chirping of the birds by the trees near their house. It has always been this way with Helene Jaeger, the second oldest of all the cousins. Child of the animal whisperer, she was given the role of communication just like her father, Zeke. The one closest to the animated blonde girl is Caspian's oldest brother but there are still some quirks that Helene absentmindedly exhibits that he can gauge. For example, how she seems to flinch whenever somebody asks her if she catches wind of a private conversation. Another is when she’s buzzing with anticipation when she hears particular whispers that can benefit her curious nature. It’s not a hidden fact that Helene is the source of gossip in their quaint town. Caspian doesn’t even know if that title should be revered. With that aside, the younger boy learns to shut his mouth whenever his cousin is around.

The aurora illuminates the dining room when they arrive.

Their aunt is already within the space, arranging the plates for the respective members of the family. Gifted with a strength that can rival fifty men, Mikasa Ackerman-Kirschtein stands tall with her head regally up high clad in her deep blue dress. Her pixie-cut onyx hair glints against the sunshine and her gunmetal blues lighten up at the sight of the teenagers. Beside her is you, now dressed in a pretty long-sleeved day dress with embroidered flowers, herbs, and butterflies on the material. Your radiance balances Mikasa’s and even without a miracle, you capture the attention of everyone in the room. You follow your sister-in-law’s gaze while placing the utensils in their proper places, a smile automatically pulling on your soft peachy lips.

“Good morning, you three,” you welcome them.

“Morning, Aunt [Name], Aunt Mikasa,” Helene softly replies, placing the pitcher of juice and pot of coffee on the table.

Mikasa smiles. “Good morning.”

Amazed at the spread for this morning, you directly look at your second eldest, “This is amazing, Aran.”

Aran chuckles, coming around the table to give you a side hug. “What can I say? I learned from the best.”

It’s an exchange that happens every morning. It’s anticipated by the people occupying the dining room, their knowing smiles are proof. You always make sure to compliment Aran’s cooking and in return, Aran reminds you that it was you who inspired him to start cooking. It’s a heartwarming display, one that Mikasa wants to preserve as the protector of the family. After Eren left, the black-haired woman took the responsibility of being your pillar. Even before marrying into the family, Mikasa was your best friend since you two were in kindergarten. She followed you around the town after a day of show and tell and you thought it was an opportunity to make friends. You never shied away when she hugged you too tight, even making the effort to squeeze her the hardest you could.

And as Mikasa looks at you from across the table, her heart swells because you’re starting to smile genuinely again. Her love for you isn’t like any other — it's different from what she feels for Jean and way stronger than what she feels for Eren and Armin. If soulmates do exist, she’s sure it’s you for her.

“You have outdone yourself this time, chef,” Jean enters the dining room with Marigold in his arms. “And you made Goldie’s favorite!”

Marigold squeals. “Yey! There’s an omelet!”

“I made sure to put extra cheese in your portion, Goldie,” Aran cooes.

“You’re the best, Aran!”

Caspian snorts from beside Mikasa. “Way to boost his ego, Goldie.”

Marigold squirms in Jean’s arms. When the ash-blond lets her down, she barrels to her favorite cousin’s side, earning a huff from the boy. She can’t reach his waist yet but her hold on his leg is an indication of her affection for her older cousin. Her gunmetal blue irises glint with so much admiration for him that it’s getting hard to not melt on the spot. “I love you the best, Cassie!”

You laugh, making the others chuckle along with you. “It’s been a while since someone called you that, treasure.”

“He’s acting like he doesn’t like it,” Aran teases.

Caspian turns to him with red ears. “I told you I don’t like it!”

“His ears are red,” the older boy stage-whispered to you.

“No, they’re not!”

“You didn’t say it back!”

Caspian looks down on the pouting child. He sighs before ruffling her black hair with a soft smile. “I love you, too, Goldie. You know who you should be saying that to?” Marigold tilts her head, her chubby cheeks begging to be pinched. Caspian glances at the amused black-haired woman beside him, her arms crossed on her chest. He leans down to her level and cups his mouth to whisper in his ear. He makes sure everyone in the dining room hears him, “It should be your mom. She’s standing right there, Goldie.”

“Give mommy a hug, Goldie,” Mikasa states while opening her arms, laughing when her daughter enters her embrace with a giggle. She gives her tickling kisses on her cheeks, nuzzling her nose against her fluffy skin.

“What about me, Mom?” A child who’s the same age as Marigold innocently asks in front of Caspian. He’s the spitting image of his father, who’s shaking his head with a smile. “I need your hugs and kisses, too.” The child reaches for Mikasa, the mischievous glint in his silver eyes never vanishing.

“Will you cut that out, Jack? It’s creepy,” Caspian shivers.

The five-year-old child morphs into a sixteen-year-old blond in a flash.

Jacques Ackerman-Kirschstein is a menace to society. Always ready to prank everyone who passes by, this boy earned the moniker of hellion among the townspeople. As the chameleon of the family, he’s constantly using his gift mainly to babysit the kids and if there’s a need for a second carpenter. What he likes about his miracle though is him having the advantage to fool anyone, having learned how to manipulate his voice for every person he turns into. His parents are exhausted whenever there’s news around the town that features him and his pranks but it’s obvious that they’re also amused by his antics. Like right now, Mikasa only laughs before pulling her oldest son in a hug. Just like how Caspian adores you, Jacques is the same as his mother. If he were to pick between his parents, he’d choose his mom, regardless if he looks a lot like Jean.

“It worked, right? I got my hug from Mom,” Jacques gloats.

Caspian purses his lips to the side. “I don’t think that’s something to be proud of.”

The blond drapes an arm around the younger boy’s shoulders. “It’s worth it.” He then takes a bite on a piece of bacon that he swiped from the table while everyone was talking.

“Hey!” Aran calls for him. “Jack, put that back! Can’t you wait till breakfast?”

“I’m hungry, ‘Ran,” the shapeshifter shrugs.

“That doesn’t mean you should eat before anyone else.”

Jacques then clutches his stomach. “Ugh, I think I have a stomach ache. I definitely need your food, ‘Ran.”

“... I hate you. No seconds for you later.”

The ash-blond boy gasps dramatically, leaning more on Caspian, who’s rolling his eyes at his cousin slash best friend’s spectacle. “How could you?”

“You already ate something, you idiot,” Caspian huffs, shrugging off Jacque’s arm on his shoulder. “You don’t have to hog everything on the table. Leave some for us, pig.”

“I see everyone has gathered here.”

The patriarch of the Jaeger family is an intimidating man despite his amiable smile. He doesn’t tower over everyone like Zeke behind him nor does he glare at people with his dull eyes like Eren did moments before his disappearance. His presence is enough for the grandchildren to straighten themselves, especially Caspian. Grisha Jaeger’s eyes flash behind his glasses, posture firm as if he demands attention from the audience. One could say that he built Paradis from scratch when in reality, the tragedy that befell his previous home made his key necklace glow like a thousand suns. The mountains grew and on a hill overlooking the rest of his people, stood a lone two-story mansion. With everyone he loved gone except for the children that they blessed him, Grisha presented magic to everyone in need.

It’s a story that was told to Caspian before he claimed his door. Grisha talked about how he found love a very long time ago, that’s when Zeke was born. It’s presented to Caspian in a fairy tale. Grisha, young and heartbroken from the evil that took away his first wife, was comforted by a smile that could cure a thousand illnesses. Along came Eren. Then, the family expanded when the Jaegers adopted a girl named Mikasa — there the constellation started shining from the heavens. But when their youngest children turned two, they were forced to flee their home, and the smile that could cure a thousand illnesses was snuffed out.

But in their darkest moments, a miracle was born.

Caspian remembered how immersed he was when his grandfather narrated the tale. He’s a great story-teller, one that showcases how he handles children while still being the town’s doctor. He wonders how it feels being on the receiving end of his proud smile.

Grisha examines the dining room and nods with a smile. “Let’s have breakfast, shall we?”

Everybody follows suit, the scraping of chairs echoing through the room. It just so happened that the person in front of Caspian is the bane of his existence.

Ezra Jaeger was born beautiful and perfect. There’s not much Caspian has to say about him except he’s a proud individual who thinks that he’s above everyone else just because he was given the miracle of nature. With his looks that come from your side of the family, his effeminate features that make people’s jaws drop, Ezra easily bags the title as the Adonis of Paradis — the one who captures the attention of the goddess of beauty yet makes her feel jealous of his aesthetics. He’s known for being a seraph but Caspian sees him as more of a prima donna than a savior. The brunet pities his soon-to-be wife.

He meets his younger brother’s gaze from across the table. Ezra’s face sours, his eyes narrowing at the blank stare Caspian has been giving him. “What?” he mouths.

Caspian merely shakes his head before stuffing his face with eggs. He hears a scoff from Ezra’s direction. “What?” he mouths back.

As an answer, Ezra rolls his eyes like the prissy prince that he is and goes back to calmly eating his breakfast.

The head of the family acknowledges Aran with a warm smile. “You did well, Aran. Thank you for this wondrous breakfast.”

“You’re welcome, grandpa,” Aran replies.

The sound of cutlery on plates envelops the room in a blanket of normalcy. You’re seated beside Caspian, having turned down the offer of being on Grisha’s other side all those years ago, the current position in the table occupied by Helene. Your role in the family is a vague one. When the magical part of the family does their chores around the town, you and Jean spend the entire day cleaning the house. For this day, however, your work lies in supervising where the decorations should be placed, what exact flowers should be painting the house’s walls.

There’s no denying that Grisha loves you for his son, his opinions never change even when you’re alone raising your children. Though he sometimes harbors an awkward air while talking to you, he’s been one of your father figures ever since Mikasa became your best friend. But if there’s one thing that you don’t agree with, it’s the neglect he has for Caspian.

The entire breakfast passes by in a blur and it’s time for Grisha’s reminder of the family’s schedules and chores.

The said man dabs his lips with a napkin. “Mikasa, I heard the bridge was destroyed by the river flood a couple of days ago. That should be your priority today before helping around with the celebration. Jacques, we need another carpenter today and some mothers want to have someone look after their babies while they rest. Zeke, talk with the farmers and inquire them about the newborn cattle. Could you place a good word that we should have them in our pen by the end of the week? Helene, find out about the invitations — how many attendees agreed specifically so that the food preparation is enough for every guest. Aran, my boy, do what you always do. Ezra, our orchid, help your mother with making the town beautiful, alright?”

A chorus of “Yes, Grandpa” and “Yes, Dad” makes the man smile. “Now, then, enjoy the rest of your day and make everyone in the town happy and content. Let’s make this a celebration that Marigold won’t forget.”

While everyone files out of the house, Caspian chases after his grandfather. “Grandpa! Wait!”

Grisha turns around to his panting grandson before he takes one step on the stairs. He freezes for a moment when that similar pair of green eyes look up at him. For a moment, he thought his son came back home. Masking his surprise with a faux smile, Grisha tilts his head. “What is it, Caspian?”

The brunet straightens himself. “What about me?”

“You?”

Caspian nods, his hands clenched by his sides. “What about my chores?”

The silence is palpable until Grisha opens his mouth to say with an apologetic face, “The best way for some of us to help is to step aside. Let the rest of the family do what they do best.”

Caspian Jaeger, the favorite of his mother and the mirror image of his father, has always been the nuisance of the family. Nobody said it out loud but he can see from his grandfather’s eyes that he’s nothing but a disappointment. One of the reasons why Ezra hates him so much is because he’s an embarrassment. That fact he can admit since it’s crystal clear. No matter how hard you or Aran make him see that he’s anything but that, the resounding thought in his mind lingers and pounds until it drills into his skull like a migraine. There’s no point in releasing his frustrations on anyone. Grisha never once treated him like scum, Mikasa and Zeke were always there for him when he needed them, and his cousins made his day brighter than ever. There’s no reason for him to blame everyone that he feels this way. But as he stares back at the reminiscent emerald hues he inherited from the head of the family, he sees it loud and clear:

You’ll ruin the celebration if you touch a single thing in this house.

You’re bad luck.

What if Marigold never gets her gift because you’re trying to help?

And it hurts.

Grisha always wanted the perfect family — a puzzle with pieces that fit with each other and enhances the beauty the full picture brings. Caspian, though, has always been the special case. His efforts of fitting in are futile, the sides of his puzzle piece not fitting with everyone else. Sometimes, he regrets existing. The smiles he donned for the past ten years are just a coping mechanism, something to remind himself he has a purpose even without a miracle.

So, Caspian does what he does best — put on a mask.

The smile on his face is more like a grimace. Caspian nods and that’s all Grisha needs to turn his back and go back to the master bedroom.

“There you are!” Aran appears with a grin. “It’s time to bring the food to the town square. Helene told me there’s someone in need of healing already. Man, can they be more careful—hey, are you okay?” Aran’s mood becomes somber as he trails his eyes over his baby brother’s jovial expression — one that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Are you unwell? Do you need a—?”

“I’m fine,” Caspian cuts off. His tone is awfully chipper and it’s not a good sign.

“Are you su—?”

“Yes!”

Aran follows his little brother’s back with his eyes.

A drawl comes from the other side of the castle’s first floor. “If he wasn’t trying too hard, he wouldn’t be in the way.”

Aran finds himself meeting Ezra’s half-lidded eyes. “You’re not helping, Ez.”

“At least I help the family and the community.”

The younger boy straightens his posture. “Now you’re just being petty and unreasonable.”

Ezra rolls his eyes, pushing himself off one of the pillars, and makes his way towards the front entrance of their house. “I’m telling the truth, ‘Ran. The thing about telling the truth is that it always hurts. Also, stop babying Caspian. It’s starting to become annoying.”

“I’m not babying Caspian, Ezra.” Aran glares. “I am being his big brother — something that you’re failing.”

Aran knows he went too far but as Ezra says, the truth hurts, and even though it’s a slap in the face, one needs it.

After a long minute of silence, Ezra looks at Aran over his shoulder. “If you’re doing it already, then, I don’t see the point in me filling in Father’s shoes.” With that, he goes outside to where you’re talking to Sasha Blouse a few feet away from the entrance, and ends the conversation, leaving behind a trail of pollen and herbal scents in his heels. Aran watches him lose the scowl and greets Sasha with a practiced bow, to which the woman giggles at, complimenting the young man on how polite and gentlemanly he is. Aran nearly scoffs. Instead, he settles for rolling his eyes.

“I’m ready.” Almost as if he’s listening in the exchange, Caspian materializes beside Aran. “Let’s give these to the townspeople now, my arms are starting to hurt.”

Aran lightly laughs, wrapping an arm around his brother’s shoulders and ruffling his unruly brown hair. “Aren’t you the cutest little helper?”

Caspian groans. “Stop coddling me.”

Aran wistfully smiles. “Never.”

[early20sfailingplenty]

May I request some Bo content? With a female S/O who is usually very chipper and warm suddenly having a very bad day and shutting down and lashing out? Like the S/O is usually all over town helping out with chores and bringing the boys meals while they work, but something throws them through a loop and they end up not doing any if the things they usually do and Bo doesn’t notice at first?

Hi, Bobbie!!🥺🌸 hhhh you absolutely can have some Bo content, oml??? I can’t get enough of the Sinclairs hhhhhh🥺🙏 This was really fun to write and I had a lot of fun with the concept! Thank you for requesting; it went in a slightly different direction than what you asked for but I hope you enjoy it anyway!!💗

Also, I worked on this piece pretty solidly for an entire day and it got to the point where I couldn’t see the forest for the trees, so a massive thank you to @arianatheangelworld for reading this over for me to tell me if I got the characterisation of Bo right, and to check for plot inconsistencies. With her approval and keen eye, this piece is finally ready to be shared with a wider audience hasdfghjkl this is one of my favourite pieces as a conflict-averse person (you can thank trauma for that lmfao); it was fun to write!💜

TW; SWEARING, reader’s a bit of an asshole (you’re not responsible for your feelings but you are responsible for how you deal with them and reader is not very mature in this piece - we all have those days, and that’s okay so long as you apologise after and learn from it!) & picks a fight with Bo, Bo gives as good as he gets, Bo’s a bit manipulative,  ARGUING BETWEEN BO AND READER (a wrench is thrown but NOT AT THE READER), CRYING (reader), Bo stepping up when he realises what’s happening (FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF because I’m soft for the Sinclairs and I’m not sorry), ELEMENTS OF AN UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIP (it’s Bo, duh), there are MENTIONS OF FOOD (not sure if this one needs to be on a trigger list, but I’m putting it on here just in case), one sentence about a dead person being in Hell from a religious/monotheistic perspective (it doesn’t bother me any because I'm a firm atheist, but I realised that it could negatively affect someone else so for that reason I'm putting it on the list), implications of Stockholm Syndrome BUT THAT WASN'T MY INTENTION WHILE WRITING IT!!! It's just an afterthought to put it on here before I post it in case it upsets someone.

My trigger lists are always so long omg I'm sorry I just never want to upset anyone so I probably go overboard??? Would appreciate feedback on this!!!💖

As always, GN!reader, no coded language (to the best of my knowledge; please correct me if you see something I haven’t noticed!), “you” and Y/N used.

Word count: 4,101 (another short one😩)

BO STOP BEING SO PRETTY OMGGGG🥺🥺🥺😍😍😍

It was just one of those days in which nothing was going right and everything that could be going wrong was, and everything was pissing you off. Ambrose and every fucking thing in it was out to get you, it seemed, and just as you usually did when you were having a bad day, you shut off from everyone and just barely restrained yourself from lashing out at anyone who even breathed in the same area as you. You just kept yourself to yourself, not doing anything the way you usually did. You knew that no one would ever let you not maintain your duties and responsibilities, such as they were. Only once had you not followed through on them, and you had discovered quite quickly that Vincent wasn't above using scare tactics, such as looming over you in such a way that you knew you had no choice but to comply if you wanted him to step out of your personal space. 

It was a subtle reminder that you would either end up back in Bo’s disgusting chair, or dumped at Vincent’s stairs if you got too comfortable in their town. That had been in the very early days of your initially forced residency in the ghost town of Ambrose (but, oh, how alive was she on the surface until one dared to scratch at the polished and carefully cultivated veneer). Months had passed since then, and scare tactics from the brothers were no longer used. You could be trusted to do the things you usually did, and indeed did you usually enjoy them. You adored helping the brothers, you loved doing things for them, knowing all the while that they cherished you just as much and, in their own ways, they did things for you as well. 

Bo had been, of course, the hardest brother to form a connection with. He was brash, rude, abrupt, an absolute asshole and you loved him for that, among a great deal of other things. As your relationship had gone from captor and the captive to a tepid friendship and then further had the two of you warmed up to each other into the intense romantic bond which you now greatly enjoyed, Bo had stopped being quite so rude. Indeed, his displays of love and affection were quiet but copious, as if he was trying to make up for how he had treated you before he had even known your name. Once you had learned to read Bo’s love language (one of which was asking you to spend time with him in the garage; he loved having you around, though he didn’t tell you in as many words), you came to understand that he was as much of an asshole as he was full of love. Aching was he to both give and to receive love in kind; starved of it and of a gentle touch for thirty some years.

Once Vincent had seen you and Bo interact, he, too, had made more of a concerted effort to take care of you and to do things for you. He had sculpted you and Bo, once, and gifted it to you by leaving it on your bedside table. There had been no note, no signature or anything to denote that it came from Vincent, but you knew all the same. You knew every detail of his particular form of craftsmanship. You had thanked him profusely, both in words and by making him his favourite meal the next day for dinner, prepared just as he liked it. Lester had been the easiest to form a friendship with, and indeed was he the one you went to when things with Bo were too much for you, or when you itched to see different sights but you didn’t want to leave Ambrose. On those days did you go with him to work, wanting to spend time with him. It always gave you a sick thrill to leave Ambrose, but you would always choose again and again and again to return. Where else could you go, would you go, when home contained the one you loved the very most? 

Ambrose was your home, Bo was your home, and you loved doing your part to help run the town, to help Vincent with his supplies and wax stock, to help Lester with his job, to maintain your own hobbies because you existed as your own person and you were not wholly defined by anyone else. You had thrown yourself into the life Bo had set out for you (and, oh, how you had fought him on it, until one day you had caught yourself excited to face the next day), and you cherished every moment you got to spend with any of the brothers, but especially with Bo. You were warm towards all three of them, and they were equally so with you. It was the way of things, and you didn’t want it, you didn’t want them, any other way. But today, oh... something bad had happened, it had thrown you for such a loop that you could no longer tell what way was up and what way was down, and you were steaming; pissed off, irritated, and emotionally shutting off. The chores would be done, but you wouldn’t be focusing on them. Food would be made, but it would be a heartless chore with little thought beyond making sure you didn’t poison anyone and that it tasted good. Your hobbies would be left unattended in favour of helping Bo in the garage, in favour of helping Vincent with anything he needed, in favour of riding with Lester for a bit to keep him company. You sighed, pissed off that you didn’t have a choice. You just wanted to hole up in your bedroom and lay there, left to rot as you stared up at the ceiling. But you couldn’t. There were things to do, people to see, and a life to live despite the fact that you were not having a good time of it.

The world could fucking burn for all you cared today.

To begin with, Bo didn’t notice that anything was amiss. How could he, when he was elbows deep in the hood of his truck, swearing under his breath about who knew what? You had done very little of what was on your to-do list for the day; you had made meals for everyone including yourself and made the relevant ‘deliveries’; taking Vincent’s down to him first because he was the closest (he hadn’t let you go until you had promised him that you had your own food, too; his form of affection towards you was a tough kind of love which you knew he used on Bo as well, which was partly why you adored it so much), then Lester’s, and then you had taken yours and Bo’s down to the garage so that you could have a lunch date together. You had packed a clean towel with soap and a flask of hot water because you knew Bo wasn’t going to wash his hands. It never failed to turn your stomach when he ate with dirty hands, grease stains left behind on the bread he had yet to eat. His constitution was one of iron and you almost envied how strong his immune system must have been after a lifetime of exposure to various things which would make the average person sick. Almost. The only other thing you had really done this day was to clean up the kitchen after you had made the food and delivered Vincent’s and Lester’s. Everything else hadn’t even been thought about. You wanted, more than anything, to not do a damned thing.

It was only when you made more noise than was strictly necessary when delivering his lunch that Bo straightened up, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. His baseball cap physically shielded his eyes from you but you could sense his gaze and your mind’s eye supplied the look you knew you would be seeing if he wasn’t wearing his hat. “Lunch.” Your tone was flat, and Bo’s entire stance changed. He stiffened, and you began to see the side of Bo you only saw when there were tourists in town. Quickly were you walking on thin fucking ice, and, help you, but it thrilled you as much as it made you want to run away. But, you were looking for a fight... if you carried on this way, you would get one, too. One of the things you loved about Bo was that he always gave as good as he got and then some, no matter what it was.

He fixed you with a level gaze and then, “Wanna try that in a different tone, darlin’?” A warning - your first and your only. Bo would never give you an out twice in a row. With Bo, once was more than enough. He always took things and ran with ‘em... his cruel, brutal upbringing and later life had taught him to never question anything, to just take them as they came from one moment to the next. Bo craved that which he had lacked in his life before you, and security was one of them. Seeing you like this had thrown Bo off edge, just as something had clearly done the same to you, and Bo didn’t know what to do when you were like this. Vincent was good at calming people down after a lifetime of living with Bo, but Vincent was presumably holed up in the basement, so asking his twin to do some de-escalation was out of the question. A warning, first, had been suitable... He would have to follow your lead on the rest of it. What could Bo do to help you the way you always helped him? He had to figure it out, quickly, because his sunshine was behind some clouds and he didn’t know how to make it rain, so that the sun would come back out. Wait... As quickly as Bo had lost his footing, he found it again, a predator was he. You wanted a fight? He’d give you one. And then he would bring you back home to him. It was sly, manipulative of him, but an outlet was what you needed, and Bo was great at that. He threw tantrums every fuckin’ day. You were entitled to one too, he figured, especially if something bad had happened. But what?

“No,” You shrugged, settling down to get your own food. “Eat if you want. I brought some hot water, soap and a clean towel for you to wash your hands.” The inflection in your voice on this last three words brought a sneer to Bo’s face but he turned away from you, recognising all the signs in you that he saw in himself every damn day. You were angry and Bo wondered what the fuck had happened to you. He hadn’t seen you much this day, so busy had he been, but now that you were with him, it was clear that something was up. He hadn’t seen you like this often, usually so happy and warm with him that it made his heart ache were you, and he wasn’t quite sure how to handle the situation. If you wanted a fuckin’ fight, though, he’d give you one. Anythin’ for his darlin’, even when they were being rude. Idly, Bo wondered if this was how you felt when he was being an ass, but he shook that thought off. It didn’t fuckin’ matter, anyway. He had already tried pushing you away, but you had stuck to him like glue. Bo loved it as much as he hated it, which created such a passion within him that it left the both of you breathless even during the best of days together.

“Okay,” Bo shrugged you off, acting like he wasn’t getting as pissed off as he was also growing concerned, “I’ll eat wit’ ya’ in a minute. Let me clean myself first. I’m too dirty to have lunch wit’ ya, is that it?“ He grabbed the flask, soap and towel from the counter where you had set them next to his lunch, and the look he gave you told you everything on his mind. When he came back from washing his hands, leaving everything on the sink for you to clean up later, he made his way back to his truck, “Hey, uh, pass me that wrench, would’ya?” and got busy again, fiddling with... whatever he was doing. He looked up at you around the hood, watching you. Analysing you. He was getting mighty pissed off with you, but he was trying to hold his temper down. He knew he had a nasty one... it was turning out that you did, as well. We’re a match made in Hell, momma. Maybe we’ll see you down there some day. I know you ain’t gone up.

You rolled your eyes before you could stop yourself, which made Bo’s jaw tick in irritation. You did as he asked, again, almost slapping the tool into the outstretched palm of his hand before you went back to what you were doing. God, but today you really hated the way you did what he asked of you, even and especially when you didn’t want to. You just loved him so much and it came through in everything. Christ, you were even pissing yourself off. You waited for the thank you that you knew wasn’t going to come - Bo had always said such things with his actions, but today it just fucked you off even more instead of making you smile - so you sarcastically said, “Thanks, Y/N. You’re welcome.” The first two words were spoken in a lower octave, mocking Bo’s own voice. Your poor imitation made you smirk as you found it funny in some sick way, but for all of his careful planning, Bo exploded as his temper flared up in an instant; the wrench hitting the wall farthest from you as he launched the tool. It made a thunderous noise, so much so that you almost wanted to put your hands over your ears. A part of you enjoyed the audible chaos. You wanted more, even as you recognised that Bo, in his rage, would still never hurt you. It calmed you down as much as it pissed you off.

“What is the matter wit’ you?” Bo yelled, finally losing his already short patience with you and this entire fucking ridiculous situation. You were usually so warm and happy, the only real fucking light in Ambrose. Anger was a secondary emotion which usually disguised pain and or fear, and Bo was feeling the latter. Did you want to leave Ambrose, leave him? So when faced with an uncomfortable emotion, Bo, too, lashed out, and you realised even in the haze of irritation and sadness that if this carried on, you and Bo were going to devolve into a screaming match. Good. That was what you wanted. Wasn’t much else to do around Ambrose.

“Fuck if I know. I don’t want to do any of this shit.” You threw the to do list at Bo, as if to make a point that it was too much of a demand on you this day, but even with your sharp aim did the paper only flutter pathetically to the floor. If this had been any other situation, you would have laughed at the absurdity of it all. You were fighting off laughter as it was - a panic response. You’d finally managed to piss Bo off, and in a sick way, that had been what you had wanted. Bo gave as good as he got, and it never failed to send a cold chill of anticipation up your back. You loved riling him up; it was the hottest fucking thing and the most dangerous, but it was too late now.

“So this bullshit attitude of yours is all because ya’ don’t wanna pull ya’ weight ‘round here, that it? S’not like ya’ fuckin’ do that anyway.” Bo’s tone was biting, his baby blues like ice, his tongue cutting into you like a blade. You thought you would have preferred an actual knife... it would have hurt you much less than the venom radiating off of Bo.

You scoffed, “Fuck off, Bo! You know as well as I do that I always do things around the town, helping you out and making sure everyone eats and every fucking other thing. I pull my own weight just fine. That’s not even the fucking issue here, I just - “ You felt stinging behind your eyes and nose, and your hands flew to your face, hiding yourself from Bo and distancing yourself from the situation. You wanted to leave, to let yourself and Bo simmer in the tense situation you had created just by letting yourself lash out (and, oh, how you knew better than that), but more than that, oh, more than that, you wanted to stay. You wanted Bo to see you in your rage and in your upset, and you wanted him to help you. Fuck knew if you knew how to help you. You were beyond yourself and you needed Bo. You needed him. It was this realisation which brought your hands away from your face, catching a look of fondness,slight amusement (he did love a good fight, especially when he was in the thick of it) and concern on Bo’s face which vanished as quickly as you had seen it. It was something he hadn’t meant for you to see. It was almost funny in its own way, how much the two of you danced around each other, even in a committed relationship. All the fight left you in a single moment as you had finally, finally burned yourself out. You didn’t have any more energy to give to your emotions this day. You sighed, and the sound was so weighted in all that was unsaid that it only upset you more, and tears fell hot and fast down your face as you broke right in front of Bo. The one you loved the very most.

"I'm sorry, I - " Your voice was barely audible even with the great acoustics which the garage afforded. You dropped to your knees, everything you were feeling from what had happened to cause this in the first place as well as your lack of sleep from the night before was just too much to take. Your body couldn't hold you up anymore and you sunk to the floor, sobbing without a care for the way you had deliberately wound Bo up just to vent your emotions, for the way you had neglected your duties this day, for the way you had just broken in front of the man who loved you, it was true, but he was not the best one when it came to handling emotions. You cried, your tears hot, fast, heavy as they crashed around you. Oh, but it hurt and as a part of you enjoyed it - the sweet release of emotions - a part of you was only more upset and it created a cycle from which you could not escape by yourself. When you hit the very bottom, the only way to go was up, but what if there was more underneath? Even in your rapidly worsening state, you were wise enough to know that you couldn't handle yourself anymore.

You. Needed. Bo.

He had always been able to do for you things which no one else could.

"I'm sorry, I just - "

Boots slowly, carefully, came into your view, and Bo ducked down so that he could look at you fully. He balanced on the balls of his feet, his cap dangling lightly from a finger on his right hand as he watched you. His blue eyes had melted from the ice you had just seen into a warm pool of blue which only made you cry harder. You watched his eyes widen in surprise, worry, and then Bo cleared his throat, "Ya' gotta breathe, darlin'. Take a deep breath now, you're all right. Ain't gonna' hurt'cha." His left hand reached out for your shoulder but then he hesitated, as if he didn't know if you wanted to be touched or not. He wasn't wary of you but of the situation. Either way, it broke your heart to realise that you had done this. Whatever this was.

"Bo, please." More tears slipped down your cheeks as Bo's hand continued to hover in the air between you, but something in your voice made Bo snap. Somehow, somehow, he managed to grab you and pull you into his lap, sitting with his legs outstretched in front of him with you plopped right in the middle. His arms and legs alike locked around you, the safest cage you had ever been in, and he rocked you back and forth slowly.

"Shush, darlin', you're all right. Bo's got'cha. You're all right." Bo pressed kisses all over the side of your face, his lips trembling and his shoulder shaking with worry, concern, adrenaline, rage. He continued to whisper sweet nothings and feather kisses all over the side of your face which he could reach, doing everything he could to soothe you. He knew not what the matter was, he knew not what had happened to you, but he recognised all the signs of a break in you - he felt them in himself every single day - and he didn't want for you to go through it alone.

At some point, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself into Bo, wanting to sink into him. Today could just get fucked. You had Bo now, and he was all you wanted. "I'm sorry, Bo. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Bo listened in a solemn silence to your repetitive apologies. He recognised that perhaps you were going to relapse into tears again, and he didn't want to have to deal with that. Not because he didn't love you, because he did, but because you had only just begun to calm down and he didn't want to tip you over the edge again. Especially if you were the one throwing yourself over. "Hey, hey. No more tears, darlin'. No more. Y're all right." Arms tightened around you, lips pursed against the curve of your cheek. "Now, you wanna tell me sumthin'?"

The literal floodgates had opened, and so too did the verbal ones as you told Bo everything. Everything that had happened to upset you so, everything you had been feeling, everything you had been thinking... You told Bo everything. His trembling grew as did his rage, but he took slow, measured breaths, doing his best to hold his temper in place as he listened to you. If it killed him, Bo would solve your problems. If it was something to actively work on, he would support you. If it was a person, he would enlist his brothers' help to lure them to Ambrose so he could kill 'em and chuck 'em in the roadkill pit; they didn't deserve to be immortalised because they had done this to you. His brothers would both agree. Whatever it was, Bo would do whatever it took to help you, consequences be damned.

"Shit, darlin'," Bo sounded breathless when you were finished, and you burrowed into him, wanting to disappear from the world and into Bo. He would protect you, keep you safe and secure. It was all you wanted. "I wondered why ya' started actin' all crazy like that. Figured you wanted a fight for the helluv'it, but - " Bo shook his head. He'd never been good at words. That was more Vincent's forte, which was ironic given how he was mute.

"I'm sorry, I - "

Bo's arms flexed around you and he shook his head again, one hand moving so that he could cup one of your cheeks. "No more o'that, Y/N. It's done, forgotten. Don't matter no more. I ain't mad. I was," Bo chuckled wryly, "I was pissed as all hell, but I can't be knowin' what I know now." His other hand came up so that the calloused pads of his thumbs could wipe all of your tears away, and he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your forehead to signify that he was there, that he loved you, that you would be okay.

Bo would make sure of it.

[altocat]

So much Aeriseph content going around rn! Do u have any hcs for that pairing? (maybe if seph didn’t completely hate and want to destroy her (childhood lab friends/lovers perhaps- i always think Seph would have viewed her as a goddess in that kinda au) I need to quench the need for cute and angsty aeriseph writings!!

Aeriseph is a great pairing hhhh I love them they're flawless. I typically pair Sephiroth only with other men, but these two are honestly everything. So have some shipping headcanons!

-Sephiroth and Aerith, much like in lots of my other stories and fics, knew each other briefly during their time in the lab. Sephiroth always knew he was destined to be Aerith's "mate", but was never comfortable with the idea of being forced to breed her. He can never bear to tell her just what Hojo has planned for them, nor can he bear the thought of ever hurting her. She (and Ifalna) are the first people apart from Professor Gast whom he genuinely loves. He would fall apart at ever causing her pain. Not her. Anyone but her.

-Luckily for both of them, Aerith is spared the pain that he goes through. He strikes a bargain with Hojo--his full compliance and unquestioning loyalty to Shinra, in exchange for Aerith's preservation, safety and happiness. A less stifling environment for her and Ifalna. Some fresh air. No experiments. No dissections. Aerith remains untouched. And, in turn, he will do whatever Shinra wants without question, whether it means killing or spreading whatever propaganda they see fit. And Hojo, still well intending to breed the two "ancients" in the far future, agrees to these terms. For now, at least. He sees no reason for there to be needless conflict, especially after Sephiroth promises that he will set himself to being the ruin of Shinra otherwise. Thus, Sephiroth goes off to war and leaves Aerith behind. Aerith and Ifalna are granted safe refuge at an actual living space in the upper plate. They are frequently monitored so that they don't escape, but Aerith does not have to undergo the same level of trauma as her friend.

-Sephiroth sees a lot of pain during the war. But he keeps his promise, killing and torturing and slaying all who oppose the company. His sins are vast and great, and all at a very young age. He no longer remembers what it's like to feel innocent or vulnerable. Just a mindless killing machine. A monster.

-By the time he finally returns, war-hardened and world famous, Hojo begins prompting him to pay a certain someone a visit. "I've upheld my end, boy. It's high time you set yourself to thinking about the future." Sephiroth has no intention of falling through with that. BUT...he does go to see her. He fully expects her to be horrified with what he's become. She's heard all the stories. And despite Shinra's plans for them, he knew it would never work. It isn't like that. Certainly not. They were just friends. He was different then. And she--

-When their eyes meet for the first time in what seems like a decade, Sephiroth is lost completely. Because he finds that, stories or no stories, rumors or no rumors, between murder and suffering and Hojo's needless perverted desires, there was no stopping what had always been there, reflected in her eyes every time she looked at him.

Love. And awe. And understanding.

-The affair afterwards is desperate and clingy and staggering. Both are mutually protective of each other. Aerith works to undo all the years of damage that the Wutai War inflicted on Sephiroth, smoothing down his hate and anger, soothing him during his traumatic episodes. She always knew what he did for her and her mother. As far as she's concerned, she doesn't see a monster. Just that same desperate boy in the lab pajamas, working with what he can, yearning for safety, for peace.

-Eventually, Sephiroth breaks free from Shinra and escapes Midgar with Aerith and Ifalna in tow. He doesn't care if they're hunted for it, or if he even broke his promise to Hojo. He has her. And that's all he could ever want. He will kill anyone who tries to tear them apart. It's a very physical, very passionate relationship. Sephiroth is all but CRAZED over her. He will go foaming apeshit bonkers if anyone so much as looks at her funny.

She is HIS. No one else's. No one can touch her. No one can hurt her. His beautiful. His divine. His...goddess.