#i would say web weaving but there's not a lot of web weaving happening

[wikipedie]

grief is like a really ugly couch

I think grief is like a really ugly couch. It never goes away. You can decorate around it; you can slap a doily on top of it; you can push it to the corner of the room—but eventually, you learn to live with it. ― Jodi Picoult, Leaving Time

[fideidefenswhore]

the downfall and execution of a tudor queen (2023) / the boleyns: a scandalous family (2021) / the king's pearl: henry viii and his daughter mary (2017), melita thomas / anne boleyn (tv miniseries 2021) / the mirror and the light (2024) / elizabeth (1998)

[crossbackpoke-check]

Fixed point (mathematics) // The History of Perspective // "Point of Disappearance", Dennis Held // How the Hughes hockey family stays grounded // Fixed Point Photography-- // "Portrait of A.", Tung-Hui Hu // Mic'd Up | Hughes NHL 25 cover shoot // "Burnt Norton", T.S. Eliot // "Circuitry", Janine Joseph // Bruce Bennett // Nick Wass // from obedience [maybe one day, during a point in time], kari edwards // Bill Rapai // "Errand Upon Which We Came", Stephanie Strickland // Benchmark (surveying)

art kid luke hughes

[mxstellatayte]

pretty please: chapter two.

pretty please masterlist.

chapter two warnings: covid happens :(, avoiding big emotional conversations, phone sex (not graphic,) i definitely deleted any and all covid social distancing rules when i was writing this but it'S FOR THE PLOT, oral sex (f receiving, not graphic,) LEWIS IS SUGAR DADDY!!!!!!!! (but there's also feelings but we don't want to admit that yet hehehehehehe)

chapter two word count: 3.7k

taglist (crossed out means i could not tag you/no blog was found): @pear-1206 @vivi-81 @irishmanwhore @lucycowr @benstormy

@anat33-blog1 @Xoscar03 @tremendousstarlighttragedy @nenamalenaa @champagneproblems17

@marknolee @toby33b @theendofthematerialgworl @soloqualcosa @sassyinchident808

join my taglist here!

take my hand while we dance on the edge of a knife

tuesday, 3 december, 2019

your phone chimes in the formula 1 radio tone, a custom ringtone you'd set just for lewis. glancing away from your computer screen, you see a simple text.

Hey.

what should you say? "hey yourself?" no, too sassy. "hey, thanks for the mind-blowing sex a few days ago. i think i'm into you, do you wanna go out?" way too forward. "hey!" too excited.

you settle on a simple "hey." in response.

for good measure, you add on a second text.

Thanks for the flight yesterday :)

his response? a simple "Yeah of course!"

"alright. so i'm going to have to be the one to bring it up. gotcha."

so this was the dance that you'd be doing. you'd just move on from the most life-changing sex you've ever had with four texts. you'd take a step forward, try to ask about what this would mean for your professional relationship, if anything, and he'd have one-sentence answers before moving on to a different topic.

that's fine.

it totally didn't make you insane.

definitely not.

instead of thinking about your client-slash-friend-slash-maybe-fuck-buddy over your winter holidays, you opt for drowning yourself in advance work, opting to make your contributions to the february 2020 issue the best the world has ever seen. your articles for the january issue are long submitted, but now that you've submitted everything for finalization for the next two months, you have a staycation at home with your cats, crochet, shitty reality tv, and a lot of alcohol filling up your schedule for the next two weeks (and a short visit to your parents up in leeds for christmas, but that's naught but a short interruption to your routine,) and you don't intend on letting work interrupt a single moment of the next two weeks.

the key word in that sentence being intend.

although, is it really considered work if it's just texting back and forth with someone who's a client-slash-friend-slash-maybe-fuck-buddy and not exactly a coworker?

"girl, i swear down on my nan's grave," amelia begins, and you grin, already knowing you're about to get a true amelia lorenz lecture, "if you don't make a move on him before new year's, i will, and i don't think he even knows my name!" she continues by weaving an intricate web of every single sign she's seen that points to the mutual attraction between yourself and the driver, and you're not sure when the right time is to tell her that you've already had sex with him. luckily, you find an opportunity when she stands from your couch to refill her glass of whiskey and pauses her monologue.

"is now a good time to tell you that we shagged after abu dhabi?"

amelia's head whips around so fast you're surprised it doesn't snap off of her neck. "you what?" you grin sheepishly, any and all confidence you've ever had in your entire life having evaporated in a microsecond. when she sits down opposite you on the couch, her left leg tucked into her crotch and her right hanging off the side, she has to set her glass on your coffee table so that she doesn't splash the whiskey everywhere. you both know what's coming purely based off of her body language. she takes a deep breath, then presses her hands together in a prayer-like stace and rests the nook of her nose in her fingertips. "let me get this straight." she pauses. "you." her right hand points directly at you as she says your full name. "shagged the lewis hamilton. and you didn't tell me immediately?"

"why do you think i wasn't on the flight back?" amelia's eyes widen in realization, and a grin spreads across her face.

"he flew you back on his jet?" you nod, taking another sip of your drink, and amelia squeals with delight. "i need every single detail. start talking."

friday, 13 march, 2020

your phone vibrates on your desk, and you glance over at it, unlocking it when you see the f1 logo on the notification. your heart sinks when you see what the notification reads, though.

"formula 1, fia and agpc announce cancellation of the 2020 australian grand prix"

"shit," you mutter, switching your phone off and resting your head in your hands. it won't be long before the lockdown reaches london, you know that, but it's difficult knowing that lewis was looking forward to being in the car again, especially with some of the new regulations that he hoped would lead to closer racing.

you send him a text before you go to sleep- it's almost 3 am.

Sorry to hear about the race. I know you were looking forward to driving.

by the time you've fallen asleep, though, lewis has seen your text and he gnaws at his lower lip, his thumbs hesitating over the keyboard of his phone's screen. yeah, he was looking forward to driving, but as the pandemic numbers increased, his anxiety about the race weekend did, too.

Thanks. I'm glad they called it off, though. The numbers were getting too high too fast.

months pass. your interviews with various drivers at the monaco and british grands prix are moved to video calls. the world gets thrown into lockdown, eases out of it, and then gets thrown into lockdown once more. dolphins are spotted in the canals of venice. george floyd's murder sparks a revolution that reaches all corners of the globe.

you don't go a day without texting, calling, or video calling with lewis.

it's sickening, really, how much his smile is keeping you sane. well, if you're being honest, it's a combination of his smile, your medication, and going on a lot of walks around your neighbourhood. leytonstone is a lovely part of london, yes, but there's only so many different routes you can take around the neighbourhood before you start itching to jump on a train and go anywhere.

in early june, you get the email. you'll be traveling to silverstone for a set of interviews with various drivers for the 70th anniversary race. it's the fifth of seventeen races on the updated calendar, and the email states that you may be sent to the abu dhabi grand prix, as well.

wednesday, 29 july, 2020.

you're practically vibrating with excitement as you board the first of four trains that will take you to your hotel. you're leaving a week before you're due in silverstone, though, because why wouldn't you take advantage of the double header race? you've never been to a race purely as a spectator and your giddiness makes you laugh. how going to a race has given you the butterflies in your stomach that you haven't felt since you were a teenager, you'll never know. sure, with the fia's no-spectator rule, you aren't really sure how people are planning on watching the race, but you're sure you'll learn as the weekend progresses. either way, you're one of many fans taking the train up to silverstone despite the rules stating that no fans could enter the paddock or the grandstands, many hopeful that simply being in the same general area might get them a chance of seeing any of the drivers in person. a few of the racing fans on the train even recognize you, one timidly holding the july 2019 edition of vogue.

the edition where your first interview with lewis was published.

"could you sign it?"

your jaw opens and closes beneath your mask a few times before you're able to regain your composure, accepting the magazine and sharpie from her with a smile.

"what's your name, darling? here, sit with me." she does, sitting across the aisle from you and nervously tucking a curl of ginger-brown hair behind her ear.

"kathleen. but you can call me kat," she adds, and you smile as you write a small note on the inside cover, adding your signature afterwards. "are you interviewing lewis hamilton this weekend?"

"i don't have any interviews this weekend. just next weekend." you look more intently at kat's outfit, and you smile below your mask. she's wearing a mercedes hoodie and baggy jeans, and you notice that her outfit reminds you of someone. "i like your outfit. it reminds me of some of lewis' outfits, actually." kat beams beneath her mask, her eyes scrunching up into happy crescents.

"thank you! he's kinda the inspiration behind my outfits for the weekend. i'm a huge fan of him, have been for years. i'll be honest, i didn't read much about fashion until you interviewed him, but i really liked your article and looked up some of your others. the one you wrote critiquing paparazzi for stalking celebrities was incredible! you wrote it so freely. i loved it." kat catches herself, noticing her rambling, folding her hands in her lap nervously. "sorry. i talk when i'm nervous."

"you have nothing to be nervous about. i'm just another human being." you hesitate a moment, leaning over to her as you pass the magazine and sharpie marker back. "can i tell you a secret?" she nods. "i was terrified the first time i interviewed lewis." kat's eyes grow wide, and you nod. "i was so nervous. i almost got sick a couple of times, actually."

"really?"

"mhm. i'm surprised i didn't."

"i definitely would."

"i doubt that. lewis is as nice- if not nicer- than he seems. after the first five minutes of talking to him, i knew i had nothing to worry about."

the two of you spend the remaining time on the trains talking together, and she animatedly drags her father towards you and you shake his hand, introducing yourself.

"pleasure to meet you. my name's dan. thank you for being a role model for my little girl." your heart swells with pride at the praise, and you nod.

"you're raising a very fine young woman, dan. she's got a bright future ahead of her." dan nods and thanks you, grinning behind his mask. you know, from what kat's told you, that dan has been a fan of formula 1 since the michael schumacher days and that he's been to three grands prix in his life- silverstone 2003, silverstone 2004, and germany 2008. this'll be his fourth. you also know that the white and papaya t-shirt he's wearing is from the most recent race he's attended. "do you happen to have instagram, dan?"

"i do, why?" his eyes narrow slightly, and you can understand why your question seems a little strange.

"i'm writing a piece about fan presence at recent grands prix, since there's been the 'no fans allowed inside' order from the fia, and would love to interview you and kat before and after the weekend," you lie. "i'd be willing to keep you both anonymous, if you'd like. if i can message you on instagram, it wouldn't be as much of a hassle as writing emails to communicate."

"i'd prefer we remain anonymous, but i'm sure she'd love to be interviewed."

you can't tie me down, but you can tie me up

thursday, 30 july, 2020.

the next morning, you call lewis, the hotel's breakfast menu next to you on your bed and your notepad perched on your lap, your pre-weekend "interview" with dan and kat in just over 90 minutes. lewis picks up the call on the third ring.

"hey!" you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling too much, a rush of dopamine flooding your brain at the sound of his voice. "can i call you back in half an hour? i've got media stuff to do in about five minutes."

"i'll be fast. can you get two paddock passes made for sunday under the names kathleen and dan gallagher?"

"they'll have to be media passes, but yeah, why?"

"you'll see. i'll text you the names so you have them. see you in a few days!"

after texting bono a quick message regarding your own pass and ensuring that he would keep it completely and entirely a secret from lewis, you flop backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling for a moment. "what the hell have i gotten myself into?"

since the pandemic began, your relationship with lewis has been... well... less than professional.

your daily phone calls and texts with him have contained topics that still make shivers run up your spine and a flush of heat fill your cheeks and neck when you think about them. there have been many nights where you've been on a call with lewis and you're both breathing heavily, clothes messily strewn across your respective beds in a rush to lay back against your pillows and touch yourself to completion, obeying each other's commands and wishes.

there have also been many nights where you're tucked into your beds, roscoe fast asleep next to lewis and your own furry companions, pipsqueak and garfburger, the latter of which amelia named, curled into a ball of rare calmness next to you. the two of you ultimately fall asleep on the call, the idea of having someone with you, even if not physically, helping soothe your anxiety.

both types of calls are incredibly intimate and beautiful, each in their own way.

four days later, you're meeting up with bono outside the paddock to get your own pass and messaging back and forth with dan, attempting to figure out where you can meet him near the paddock entrance. trying to explain to him why you need to meet up today when your scheduled interview time is tomorrow without giving too many details proves to be a difficult task but you're thankfully able to manage. five minutes after bono appears, three media passes in hand, you see dan and kat round the corner. you wave him down, a smile on your face, and kat immediately comes running over to you. today, she sports a pair of baggy jeans, a hamilton jersey over what you assume is the same mercedes hoodie she was wearing on the train, and an incredibly well-loved pair of black platform converse.

"good morning to you both," you say, a bright grin on your face beneath your mask. from the way kat's eyes scrunch up behind glasses you can tell her own smile outshines your own.

"good morning! dad said you had some mid-weekend questions for us?"

"well..." your eyes flick back and forth between dan and kat, and you can see the gears turning in dan's head, but kat remains oblivious. "the mid-weekend questions were a bit of a lie, but i think- i hope- that what i have in my jacket pocket is enough for you to forgive me." with that, you pull the two black and purple media passes out of your jacket, check which one has kat's name on it and which has dan's, and hand them to their respective owners. "kathleen and dan gallagher, welcome to the formula 1 silverstone paddock."

"are you serious?" dan says in disbelief, and when you nod, kat squeaks in delight and throws herself at you, wrapping her arms around you in a vice grip.

"thank you thank you, thank you!"

"you're very welcome. are you ready to go see some cool cars?"

"is that a joke? of course!" kat looks at her father, hoping for some small nod of approval, and, when he does, you think the girl still glued to your torso might just combust from excitement. you can tell that dan's barely containing his own joy, his eyes mirroring the amount of joy you see in kat's.

"in that case, let's go." after about an hour of walking through the paddock, finding spare headsets in the mclaren garage, and smiling as kat and dan can't control their own amazement at the works of engineering in front of them land sheepishly asking a few drivers for photos,) you make your way, finally, to the mercedes garage. "re you two hungry at all? care for a coffee or tea? mercedes has the best food in the paddock. "

"i'd love a coffee, actually." dan says. "kat? you want anything?"

"a cuppa sounds perfect, thank you."

"i've got it. here, have a seat, i'll be right back, " you say, attempting to sound as casual as physically possible when you know you're about to blow their minds. they sit at one of the tables in the small cafe, and you go up to the barista, ordering dan and kat's drinks before ducking away and making your way to lewis' driver's room, knocking a few times and stepping back, smiling when the door opens and you see him, fuck, he looks good. "hi, lewis."

he knew you were going to be in silver stone for the 70th anniversary race, but that isn't until next weekend. "you've here early," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "why's that?"

"i can't want to see my favorite driver at his home race?" you cock an eyebrow and cross your arms, but there's sarcasm evident in your voice. "plus, i missed you. can i tie up your schedule for a bit?"

"it depends. how is my schedule being tied up if i agree?" lewis is matching your own bass, and you smile.

"just some people i'd like you to meet. remember those passes i asked you to have made? well... they're in the cafe and i think the cherry on top of their day would be meeting you."

"in that case, you can tie up my schedule, but i only have fifteen minutes before the strategy meeting." you grin brightly, and your eyes squishing in the corners makes lewis smile in turn, "before we go, though, i do have a little request. come in for a quick minute?" he steps to the side and you gladly follow, turning towards lewis when you hear the door click shut behind you. he's taking off his Mercedes- branded face mask, and you take that as permission lo take your own off. "you know..." he begins, stepping towards you. your breath catches in your throat as all of your senses one immediately overwhelmed with everything lewis. his left hand comes up to hold your and check you gladly lean into his touch, the gentleness of his touch a stark contrast his calloused to fingertips. the next words he says ring in your head, repeating like church bells.

"i missed you, too." those words are the last thing you process before lewis' lips are on yours and every ounce of tension leaves your body.

"mm, lewis, " you say, pulling away from the blissful kiss much to your dismay. "our guests are waiting." lewis groans, and you giggle.

"fine, but after we've done with that and i'm free from my strategy meeting, we're coming back here and finishing what we started."

"deal."

kat and dan are, obviously, completely and entirely dumbfounded when you return to the cafe, six-time world champion in tow.

they're even happier when they watch lewis cross the line in first place, five seconds ahead of max verstappen.

after the podium and post-race interviews, you find yourself crowded against the wall of lewis' driver's room yet again. your kisses are hot and messy, desperate hands wandering around each other's bodies. sometime in the lust-addled haze, you're laying back onto the couch pushed against the back wall and your jeans are being thrown somewhere across the room. whatever, you don't care where they are or how wrinkled they're going to be because lewis is eating you out again and, within minutes, you're cumming on his tongue again as his nose bumps against your clit. when he kisses you, your cum smears on your cheeks and chin and nose and it's so, so filthy, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

"are you coming to any other races this year?" lewis speaks up, his voice echoing through his chest. he's found you a pair of joggers that you'd slipped on after another set of blissful kisses and a messy (but very perfect) handjob. he's laying on the couch and you're resting on top of him, your arms wrapped around his torso and his own surrounding your shoulders. your socked feet are tangled with lewis' own, and his fingers, unusually absent of any jewelry, run gently along the curve of your shoulders.

"i'm not sure. i haven't gotten any race assignments yet from upper management, and traveling is really difficult right now if you don't have a work visa."

"i bet i can send some emails." you can almost hear the smirk in his voice.

"lewis," you scoff, burying your face in his chest. he smells like forests and jasmine and safety. "you're going to be the death of me."

[1425fivefive]

Welcome!

Hi, I'm Amelia (1425fivefive here on Tumblr and AO3). I write F1 fics exclusively, and this page and my fics are very much 18+.

I adore chatting, so please feel free to message me about any of my published fics or my many works in progress! I love getting asks and comments, you are always welcome 💕

I write and post about lots of different ships, but when it comes to actual racing: Forza Ferrari. I will be annoying about them on race weekends.

I've sorted everything below to feature (1) published longer works, (2) common tags I use, (3) a work in progress list and tags I use for those, (4) small fics I've posted on Tumblr, and (5) web weaves.

(1) Published Works

Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri

Don't Want Your Sympathy, Just Your Company (64k words, 7/7 chapters, AO3)

The picture of Oscar and the guy is blurry, the low light of the club and the shaky iPhone camera making it hard to discern exactly what’s happening. If someone looked at the picture with no context, Oscar’s fairly sure they wouldn't be able to tell it’s him. But DeuxMoi’s posted the picture alongside a screenshotted DM that reads: “Friend spotted McLaren F1 driver Oscar Piastri making out with mystery guy at a club in Miami right after the Grand Prix a few months ago. Anon pls!” DeuxMoi’s added their own commentary, writing, “Didn’t know he liked guys. Good for him!” Or: In the wake of being outed, Oscar spends the summer break in Monaco with a very supportive Lando.

Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen

Be Sweet for Me (Only Me) (6.8k words, one-shot, AO3)

Max’s throaty voice comes through Charles’s phone speakers: “No, mate, don’t give me that bullshit now. You guys gave me the fucking strategy, I’m trying to rescue what’s left.” Max sounds whiny, demanding, entitled. Bratty, Charles’s brain helpfully supplies. Fuck, Charles is obsessed with the way Max sounds. Charles replays the video, needs to hear Max again. He replays it a third time. A fourth. If Charles ends up watching the video sixteen times in a row, that’s nobody’s business but his. Or: Charles listens to Max's radio from the Hungarian Grand Prix, and gets turned on by Max being a brat to everyone but him.

Lock Me Up and Throw Away the Key (4.7k words, Part 1 of Locked Up Series, AO3)

Max unzips his race suit, blushing furiously, and pulls his fireproofs and underwear down, revealing his cock locked away in a small cage. Charles groans at the sight. He reaches forward and, for a delirious moment, Max thinks he might touch. But Charles simply rests his hand on Max’s lower belly, thumb brushing the skin just above Max’s caged cock. Max can’t help the whine that spills out of him, seeing Charles so close to where he wants him. “Look at your cute little cock,” Charles breathes, still skimming his thumb over Max’s skin. Or: Charles puts Max in a cock cage and fucks him in it.

All Dressed Up for You (6.4k words, Part 2 of Locked Up Series, AO3)

“Do you think you would like it, Max?" Charles asks. "Wearing pretty lingerie for me?” Max whimpers. Of course he wants to wear lingerie for Charles. The idea of it is scorchingly, earth-shatteringly hot. But he can’t help but think a bra and panties would look awkward and horrible on him, emphasizing his thick thighs and wide shoulders, highlighting the blunt masculinity of his body. “What if I—Charles, it’ll look terrible on me,” Max says sadly. Charles makes a shocked sound. “Max, what? What are you saying?” Or: Max wears lingerie for Charles and Charles tries to show Max how beautiful he is.

After Me, the Flood (4.7k words, one-shot, Tumblr)

Charles is a 500-year-old vampire. Max is a human. They meet in Amsterdam in 1662.

Oscar Piastri/Carlos Sainz

Sexy to Someone (Is All I Really Want) (6.8k words, Part 1 of Sexy to Someone, AO3)

“I’m not like most alphas," Oscar said. "I don’t—I won’t want to fuck you, during my rut.” “You would like me to fuck you, yes?” Oscar couldn’t believe how calm Carlos sounded. If Oscar’s words had surprised Carlos at all, Carlos’s face and voice didn't betray it. “You’d be alright with that?” Oscar asked. Carlos frowned, confused. “Why would I not be?” “It’s just— It’s not normal, for an alpha to want to be fucked.” Or: Oscar goes into a stress rut after winning the Hungarian Grand Prix, and Carlos fucks him through it.

I Wouldn't Ask You (To Take Care of Me) (11.8k words, Part 2 of Sexy to Someone, AO3)

“I win,” Oscar said, looking down at Carlos. Carlos was looking up at him with an expression Oscar couldn’t place. But then, Carlos’s lips twisted into a smirk. “I think you will let me go.” “Why? I won.” Oscar pressed Carlos’s wrists against the mattress for emphasis. “Because, little omega,” Carlos said, looking entirely too pleased with himself, “I think you like being underneath me too much.” Or: Oscar and Carlos navigate their feelings after spending Oscar's rut together, and Oscar spends Carlos's heat with him in Madrid.

Max Verstappen/Oscar Piastri

Feline Fever (10.9k words, one-shot, AO3)

“You’ll let me stroke your gorgeous ears?” Max murmurs, reaching a hand up to rub Oscar’s cat ear. Oscar pushes against Max’s hand, trembling under the soft touch. “Yes.” “What about your lovely tail?” Max asks, letting go of Oscar’s ear and reaching down to wrap his fingers around Oscar’s tail, stroking from root to tip. “You’ll let me play with it while I fuck you?” Oscar nods, letting out a soft whine. He’s a shivering mess under Max’s careful hands, a tear slipping from the corner of his eye. Or: Oscar wakes up as a cat hybrid. Max helps him break the curse (by fucking him, of course).

Oscar Piastri/Charles Leclerc

Everybody Wants to Love You (9k words, one-shot, AO3)

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Charles asked. “Oh, um,” Oscar stuttered, cheeks going pink. “Sorry?” Charles let out a breathless laugh. “Sorry, yes, I am—I woke up with a pussy, this morning.” “Um,” Oscar said, turning a bright shade of red. Charles steeled himself. It was either this or race with a vagina tomorrow, and while Charles didn’t blame his poor qualifying on his situation, it couldn’t have helped things. “I was thinking maybe you would like to fuck me,” Charles said. Or: Charles wakes up with a pussy. Oscar shows him how to enjoy it.

(2) Common Tags

Asks, snippet, WIP Wednesday, me being feral, current WIP

(3) Current WIPs

Learned Behavior (Charles, Lando, Oscar)

My main WIP. Lando POV, set during the 2024 season. Main pairings are Landoscar and Charlando.

Djinni Fic (Landoscar)

Lando summons a djinni (Oscar) to help him win a world championship. Lando doesn't plan on falling in love with him.

Part 3 of Sexy to Someone (Carcar)

This will be the last part of the Sexy to Someone verse.

Topping from the Bottom (Lestappen)

That's it, that's the entire premise.

(4) Small Tumblr Fics

Kiss prompts

(5) Web Weaves

Landoscar Post-Brazil

[suugarbabe]

I’m OBSESSED WITH UR FICS OMG- can u do a Mattheo or Theodore FIC x Reader based off of karma?! LOVERRRRR

Hii anon!

Sorry it's been a minute since you asked this :( I'm not super good at lyric fics but I did try my best so if it's shite dont come for me 😬

pairing: Theo Nott x reader

warnings: angst angst angst, no happy ending

You're talking shit for the hell of it

Addicted to betrayal, but you're relevant

You're terrified to look down

'Cause if you dare, you'll see the glare

Of everyone you burned just to get there

It's coming back around

You did your best to walk through the halls with your head high, but you could still hear the whispers of others around you as you passed. In the beginning it absolutely crushed you to know that Theo was saying awful things about you. You never thought the man that kissed you so softly, or wiped away tears from your cheek would be the one to inflict so much pain that the tears were because of him. 

The thing was, you were really happy with Theo in the thick of it, you didn’t understand where things were starting to go wrong when they did. About two months ago, when you were still together, Theo started being…distant. He all of a sudden wanted to study alone, was doing extra time on the quidditch pitch and going to bed early. 

You felt like you couldn’t be too mad at him for these things, end of term exams were coming up before winter holiday, and Theo was really serious about his studies. And to be honest, a lot of your study sessions ended up well…studying human anatomy (which was not a real subject at Hogwarts). 

And Slytherins quidditch team had gotten a new chaser recently, so Theo wanting to spend some extra time doing that didn’t seem off, he was essentially the lead chaser, and with good reason. You figured the combination of extra studying and extra quidditch was why he was so exhausting and going to bed early. 

You were definitely sad he was being distant, but were doing your best to play it off. Apparently you weren’t doing that good of a job as one night Theo had gotten particularly snappy with you. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked it without even looking up from his textbook. It was a rare occasion that he was actually studying with you in the common room. You shook your head, “Nothing’s wrong Theo, I’m glad we’re doing this together.” 

He left a puff of air through his nose, “W’dya mean, we always study together.” 

“I-I just meant you’ve been studying alone a lot lately, I’ve just…missed this with you,” you didn’t know why your voice was a little shaky. He wasn’t normally like this with you.

“You know you don’t have to be by my side all the time? I can have space to myself too,” Theo started packing away his things.

“I-I know, Theo, I wasn’t - I didn’t mean…” you trailed off, not sure what to say. 

“You know what, I'm just going to go to bed, guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” You watched him walk away from you, up the stairs, down the dorm halls. You don’t think he even noticed that he showed you zero affection before he left. Didn’t tell you he loves you like he always did, didn’t even kiss you. 

Spider-boy, king of thieves

Weave your little webs of opacity

My pennies made your crown

Trick me once, trick me twice

Don't you know that cash ain't the only price?

It's coming back around

You were starting to get used to Theo not really being there. It seemed like the only time he ever gave you attention was at meal times, and you figured that was only because his friends were your friends and vice versa. You dared not make any forms of PDA unless Theo initiated it. You stopped doing that last week when you felt him tense up grabbing his hand in the hall. 

You weren’t completely oblivious. You knew something was going on, but you just didn’t know what, or why. However two weeks ago you got the confirmation you never wanted. It happened later after dinner. Theo told you he had to go to the quidditch pitch to help train the new chaser again. However you happened to run into said chaser, quite literally, as you were headed back to the common room. 

You had turned the corner quickly, stuck in your head about everything going on in your relationship and not paying attention to where you were going. That’s when you slammed into a strong chest, arms grabbing hold of you so you didn’t fall down. 

When you looked up, you saw the face of the very person your boyfriend was supposed to be with. “W-why aren’t you with Theo?” 

He looked confused by your question so you continued, “Aren’t you supposed to be on the pitch with him? You’ve been training with him for like the last two weeks.” 

His face fell, “Sweetheart…we haven’t done any training together since I joined the team.” Your chest was tight, like someone had hold of your heart and was squeezing the blood from it. 

“I-erm, I have to go,”. You pushed away from him, walking quickly back to the dorms. He called after you but you didn’t hear him. It was like the blood squeezed from your heart was rushing to your brain making you deaf. 

You found yourself walking to Theo’s dorm instead of yours, wanting to confront him and not delay the inevitable any longer. 

But that’s when you caught him. Caught him right in the act. As soon as you opened the door you saw him, naked and tangled with someone else. His eyes locked with yours, and there was no remorse. 

You closed the door behind you, he didn’t even follow you. You saw the girl he was with go towards the girls dorm. She avoided your gaze. At least she felt guilty.

You stayed in the common room, hoping maybe Theo would try and find you. Try and give you an explanation, but he never came. 

'Cause karma is my boyfriend (karma is my boyfriend)

Karma is a god

Karma is the breeze in my hair on the weekend (weekend)

Karma's a relaxing thought

Aren't you envious that for you it's not?

Sweet like honey, karma is a cat

Purring in my lap 'cause it loves me

Flexing like a goddamn acrobat

Me and karma vibe like that

It was Enzo who found you that night. Enzo who asked you why you were crying and what was wrong. Who swore to you he didn’t know what Theo was up to and offered to hex him if it would make you feel better. 

You found yourself spending more time with him. It got your mind off Theo and he was treating you so kindly. 

Surprisingly Theo seemed bothered by your new interactions. But you didn’t care, he lost that right when he did what he did. 

When he started rumors about you being the one who cheated with Enzo instead of the truth, you were hurt. But Enzo was there for you, wiping your tears and letting you cry on his shoulder. 

He told you that it didn’t matter to him and he would stick by your side the whole way. So today, when whispers and conversations were still happening around you, you held your head high. 

You walked by Theo in the corridor, his eyes trained on you the whole way as you walked up to Enzo. He greeted you with a hug and a kiss to the top of your head. Your relationship was platonic, but you could see how to the outside person it may seem like more. 

You didn’t notice Theo come up to the two of you, “Taking my sloppy seconds, Lorenzo?”

You stiffened at his words, but Enzo was quick to defend you, “Seems like you’re the one who got sloppy Theodore.” 

You chanced a look at Theo, his jaw was clenched. Enzo didn’t stop, “Shame you were such an ignorant bastard. You never deserved her in the first place.”

Enzo put a protective arm around you, pulling you into his side. Theo opened his mouth to reply, but Enzo pulled you away, headed toward your next class together.  

Theo was left standing there, steaming. Karma was a bitch.

[milkweedman]

Howdy! I'm so glad the bag is going well. Do you have a post where you talk about how you go about felting them?

To be entirely honest, I just throw my soon-to-be-felted object in the washer and dryer. I've found that unless its very large it needs other things in the wash with it, so i usually add in a towel or two. The washer in my current place has settings for water temp (I choose the hot then cold option for maximum felting) as well as settings for agitation level (I usually choose the most agitation).

When it comes out of the washer its rarely fully felted and will look limp and not great if you dont also run it thru the dryer, or else continue felting it in the wash. For the dryer, it again needs other things in the dryer with it. Towels are great.

Sometimes I will run an object through a full wash/dry cycle and then decide it could be more felted and throw it in again on the same or gentler settings, depending on how much more it needs to felt.

You might be concerned about over felting your piece and ending up with a hard tiny piece of wool...I would certainly test your washer/dryer setup with a swatch at least the first time to see what it does, but in my experience felting a piece takes a lot of time and energy, way more than you'd expect, and none of the washer/dryers ive used have taken it from "beautiful airy piece" to "hard lump" even after repeated washes. Im sure it depends on the machines to a point, and on the wool.

The other thing of note is that while you CAN call it day after washer/dryer and still get a much more robust piece, theres additional steps you can do to further process it--brushing it and then ironing it again. That's how any sort of hard felt is usually made. Lots of steam and pressure with an iron after pulling extra fibers to the surface. I don't often do this so I don't have much to say about it.

Also--knitting likes to lose its stitch structure during felting, meaning it will often turn out without much visual texture. Weaving can do this as well. Not as practiced a weaver so I don't want to say too much, but it seems both wool knitting and weaving can lose visible stitch structure.

Crochet on the other hand does not do this. Because it is made of small knots rather than a flatter, more web like structure, what happens is that the knots tighten and get smaller, but typically the holes do not fill in. Maybe they would do that with brushing and ironing, haven't tried it on an open crochet piece. But felted crochet has a pretty different feel from felted weaving and knitting. I like to crochet wool bags because they're easy to make and strong, and felting them adds further strength and durability, but it doesnt turn them into solid objects like felting a knit bag does. Even single crochet (us terms) will kind of just get smaller and a little harder but not necessarily more solid. Just something to keep in mind.

[codeopod]

Is This Allowed?

Post C3E89

Laudna and Imogen get another chance to talk once they are on their split-party mission, and Orym is caught in the middle. Yes this is titled from the vine, I wanted to play with Imodna from an outside perspective cause they definetely get lost in their own little world and romanticize things that are probably horrifying to onlookers, gotta love some untrustworthy narration. Enjoy!

Orym watched as the nerves settled in to each of his friends. The weight of the world would be enough to drive anyone over the edge, not to mention the weight of another smaller -but no less significant- planet.

They all carried it differently.

Fearne’s ears gave her away, twitching and following each little sound. Ashton leaned a little heavier onto his hammer when he stood for too long, and his brow was hardly ever relaxed. Chetney’s hands had developed a slight tremor, evidenced by his increased frustration while carving. FCG was hard to read, but his emotion wheel was nearly always verging on “exterminate” rather than “smiley” which was definetely something to keep an eye on. Imogen and Laudna were an odd pair, one crackling with light and the other weaving darkness, it only ever balanced out when they were touching, which they had been doing less and less of.

“So let me get this straight,” Ashton huffed, “we’re splitting up.”

“Yeah, that way we can cover more ground.” Imogen responded tersely. She had chewed off her pinkie and thumb nails and had taken off her gloves to continue, almost mindlessly as she paced the earthen chamber. They had already ruled out the assassination mission, against Orym’s hope that she at least be there for whatever happened. He, Chetney, Imogen, and Laudna were set on the infiltration mission, while the others were decided to join Ira for an explosive distraction.

“It’ll work out Ash, it has to.” He spoke up, squaring his shoulders. “You guys do what you do best, and we’ll do the same. Play to your strengths.”

Something flashed in Ashton’s gaze before he rolled his eyes with a laugh. “Right, the time-bombs vs the high-strungs.”

“I would say poor choice of words but you literally blew up.” Laudna chimed in, spindly fingers ghosting over her neck, Imogen glared at him from behind her.

“Shit, sorry Laudna.”

“It’s alright, it was funny.” She spoke over Imogens “Not funny.”

Orym sat vigil as Imogen curled in on herself, eyes glazed as she watched the violet flickering orb of her magical light dance between them. Their party had split off that morning to infiltrate and gather as much intel as they could before finally reporting back to Exandria. They were almost done, but the pressure had only increased. Especially now that they needed to spend the night in the underground network of tunnels near their target. They were meant to be back by now, and they would lose their telepathic communication soon without Letters nearby. It was all getting messy, but they had determined that it was safer to take it slow. Somewhere nearby, Fearne, FCG, and Ashton were waiting with Ira for their signal.

They are safe. Everything is stable. He reminded himself.

He had been first to offer to watch while the rest started their nights rest, but Imogen lingered as if her light was a fire that needed stoking.

You wanna talk about it? He spoke directly in to her mind to not disturb the others. It took her a minute to respond.

Bout’ how my momma might be dead right now? How if I close my eyes I might see her walk into that storm? How it’ll be the last time I ever see her. How I could’ve probably changed her mind but chose not to?

You couldn’t have changed her mind, not overnight.

Imogen looked at the ceiling, tilting her head back to suppress her tears.… I know it. That’s the worst part. She never would’ve chosen me over them. Not without a lot of talkin’ and time we don’t have.

War is full of ugliness and pain, I’m sorry you have to experience it, but you aren’t alone. You have us, we may be broken but we’re your family too, and we chose you. He gestured to the weathered grey fur of Chetney and to where Laudna lay curled up further away. Us and your spooky lady. We love you.

She smiled a little at that. Thanks Orym.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the soft snores of the old werewolf. Imogen’s eyes were noticeably drawn to the huddled form of her girlfriend just at the edge of the purple glow.

Can I ask how it’s going with you guys?

We’re alright. We talked earlier about everything and we probably still need to talk more but it’ll have to wait.

Yeah, I think a lot of us are holding out for a breather to delve into our stuff.

Some things are easier to postpone, my momma not so much, Delilah too, I just wish she wasn’t there all the gods-damned time.

Is it really constant?

Well, ‘ts what Laudna said anyway, she’s been getting stronger, she even spoke out loud to me and Fearne. Imogen grumbled. Cant stand it…knowing that ragged nasty old bitch is whispering horseshit in her ear and watching all our time together. Makes me not wanna do any…private stuff.

Orym snorted but paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. You know that’s exactly what Delilah wants, right?

Us not doing stuff?

Not just that, she needs Laudna to feel isolated…unlovable…it’s much easier to overpower someone with nothing to live for, she would definitely want to separate you two as much as possible.

Orym thanked every deity he could think of that he was friends with Imogen Temult and not at the receiving end of her power as she shot to her feet.

“That fuckin’ cunt.” She hissed out loud, turning to go to Laudna. Thanks Orym.

Orym chuckled and let his head fall back. “Yep.”

The glowing orb trailed after her, shifting its lavender spotlight onto the couple and leaving him in total darkness.

He couldn’t help but watch as they reunited; Laudna jolting upright to check on her, before furrowing her brow and pulling Imogen into her arms. Orym could only guess what Imogen could have possibly said that had Laudna wrapping around her like a spider keen on its prey. The darkness around them drew closer and the warlocks form blurred, growing in size and shuddering as her bones cracked and grew jagged bark. Her shadows licked and played around the perimeter of Imogen’s light, casting a ghostly lightshow accross the cavern wall near them.

His grip tightened on his sword hilt. He still wasn’t used to her unique display of power, and his gut often told him he was in serious danger even if it wasn’t aimed at him. He had started deferring to Imogen in those moments, to gauge the appropriate response.

The sorcerer slipped into the dark embrace without a seconds hesitation. She held on for a long moment before she drew away just enough to pull Laudna’s distorted face down to her own, hands stained black.

He nearly blushed at the raw intimacy of it all. The urge to reach under your partners skin and make a home amongst their bones was usually, he hoped, a purely poetic notion. They were in a unique position, literally, he couldn’t quite make out what was happening so he figured it wasn’t his business.

After a few minutes he glanced back to see imogen blushing and smiling like a smitten teenager, lips smeared dark, as she swayed into Laudna’s -now relatively normal- form. They were still impossibly close, but their magics had calmed, pastel purples blending into shadowy void. He heaved a sigh of relief upon hearing the lilting crone of Laudna’s laugh echo across the cavern. As they settled into their nest of blankets, Imogen’s residual dancing light faded to a dim glow before disappearing altogether, reducing Oryms perception to just his keen ears.

He really wished it hadn’t. It didn’t take long for the pair to start muttering and whispering again. He did his best not to eavesdrop, but it quickly took a tense turn, and he felt a deeply unsettling energy radiating from their direction. The normal darkness turned into something deeper, a chill skirted up his arms, and their whispers distorted to be unrecognizable and nightmarish. He wondered if Laudna had even noticed all the ways magic flowed from her, or if Imogen had grown so accustomed that she hardly took note. He was on his feet and stepping towards them when a voice broke above the din.

“No you fuckin’ aren’t!”

He nearly groaned. They were supposed to be keeping quiet and covert, not infighting. If this came to blows they would be in for a world of problems.

A light flared to life and shot towards him. He froze, preparing for his worst eventualities to unfold, until it stopped just above his head. It was one of Imogen’s, and it swayed slightly, seemingly attached to him this time.

Thanks , uh, could you guys k-

She interrupted him with a frustrated growl.

“Nope. Not messing with that.” He muttered to himself and sat back where he was before. Luckily, things slowly returned to normal, the room regaining its very faint light from the outside, and the couple quieting down for long enough that he knew they were finally asleep. He walked over and kicked Chetney lightly to switch watches with him.

Imogen wanted nothing more than to fall into a dreamless sleep, but she had a point to make first.

“Laudna?…hun? You awake?” She whispered into her lovers mind as she took a careful step towards the slight lump in their bedroll, shedding her outer layers that smelled like ozone and earth.

Laudna shot upright, concern pinching her features. “Are you alright darling?”

“Are you?”

“Can’t seem to close my eyes.”

“Well that never stopped you before.” Imogen teased.

“Imogen…?” Laudna regarded her with caution as the intensity in her eyes sharpened and locked on to her with a faint blush.

“I love you.”

“I love you t-“ The air burst from her chest as Imogen crashed into her.

“I love all o’ you.” She whispered. “Just as you are right now, okay?”

Laudna could only mumble incoherently, balking under the sudden attention as Imogen closed her eyes, happily tucked against her collarbone.

The cold seeped around them, Laudna’s aura enveloping her just before her arms followed suit. “I love you when you’re all creepy and dark.” Imogen took a deep inhale of petrichor and cedar, her hands sliding along the delicate architecture sprouting along Laudna’s spine as it shifted to accommodate her.

All Laudna could do was squeeze her eyes shut and try desperately to believe the woman in her arms.

“All your gore too.” Warm fingers traced ink across pallid skin. “You’re so beautiful Laudna, inside and out, an’ I would know cause I’ve seen it all.” She pulled her down into a slow kiss, hands smoothing her hair as twigs and leaves fell away to oil softened tresses. “I don’t love you in spite of Delilah, I love who you are in spite of her. You’re kind, and joyful, and crafty, and you love kids and you’re always eager to help cheer people up, even when everythin’ is just awful, and I’m gonna sundre that witch for ever thinking she could dim your spark.”

Laudna’s grip on her tightened with a strength that defied her willowy form. Imogen buried her head back into her now-soft skin and pressed a light kiss to her neck.

“I wanna have a farm with horses and two babies with purple eyes and black hair and a dog and some barn cats, and I want the worst thing that happens in a month to be us runnin’ outta eggs.”

Laudna gasped a breath as her ribs settled back in to place, her shock nearly choking her. “Imogen…” she cradled her face gently, dark eyes wide in awe. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Everything is okay, I promise, I just figured some shit out and I wanted to tell you.”

“I-okay.” Laudna wiped tear tracks from warm freckled cheeks as her own dripped from her jaw. “I want that life too. More than anything. It would be my deepest honor to share that with you.”

“Then it’s decided.” Imogen hiccuped and laughed softly. “Did you still wanna sleep?”

“Will you join me?”

“Can I hold you?”

“Please.” Laudna’s voice was small, but her shy smile remained as she bumped their noses and prestidigitated the tears and ichor away.

“Aw.” Imogen mumbled. “I like when it stains me.”

Laudna laughed bright and carefree, pulling Imogen in for another kiss. “You’re strange, my love.”

“Oh I like the sound of that.” Imogen purred.

My love. Mine.

Laudna giggled, delirious with affection, and pulled Imogen down into their bedroll. Imogen rolled onto her back and tugged Laudna’s head to her shoulder, hooking her own legs over Laudna’s, fingers slipping into her hair to scratch gently at her scalp. Her other hand soothed along the arm around her waist until the usual chill had melted away under her careful attention. Laudna sighed again and sunk deeper onto her.

“Alright?” Imogen whispered.

“The children… our children, if we somehow figure out how to have them, rather than adopt, they might be different than you imagined.” Laudna whispered after a moment.

“What like purple hair and black eyes instead? Maybe we’ll get lucky and get one of each.”

“Or a…teifling.” Laudna added.

Imogen held her a little tighter. “Oh! That would be interesting.”

“You’re not opposed?”

“We could always adopt. But, I would be honored to have your little teifling babies, or hells, maybe they’ll be little patè’s- I don’t care one bit darlin- they’ll be ours.”

Laudna clutched at her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay!” She managed.

“Shit, was that too much?”

“No!” Laudna hid her face in Imogen’s neck. “This all feels like a wonderful dream that will only end in horrid dissapointment.”

“Why would you say that? We’ve come this far havent we?”

“It’s not real .” She began, “I mean -I’m not real- I’m not alive, anything good that happens is simply a nice sentence in my epilogue.” She spoke in a flippant way, whether it was because she believed it, or because it was too painful to say sincerely, either way it made Imogen’s chest ache. A chill traced her spine, and up the back of her neck.

“Don’t you dare say that. I am not a dream.”

“No. You’re far better than anything I could’ve possibly imagined.”

“Don’t get sweet on me after saying this ain’t real.”

Laudna flinched, “I’m a ghost, darling.” She whispered.

“No you fuckin’ aren’t!”

Orym cleared his throat from somewhere in the shadows. Imogen threw a glowing orb his way and turned back to Laudna. “You listen to me. Your heart beats. You have dreams and hobbies and passions. You have a whole-ass girlfriend sitting in front of you, kissin’ on you and talking about making a family. You. Are. Alive.”

“That life wasn’t meant to be mine.”

“Says who? You think you’re just meant to be a hollow shell for a necromancer to puppet? That’s why you were born? You think you haven’t suffered enough to earn a little good?” Imogen huffed and set her glare in the taller woman who was currently curled in on herself. “You think Letters isn’t worthy of love? A family? A future? Just cause his life came about a little differently? Cause he’s two old to feel as young as he does? Cause sometimes he gets the urge to do bad things cause a’ how he was made?”

“Of course not!”

“Well you’re no different.”

Laudna’s eyes darted around, welling up with cloudy tears. “Well, I never thought about it like that.”

Imogen shifted to hold her face, “You deserve this hun, all the good and the weird and the beautiful, you’re just as alive as any of us and shit, you’ll probably even outlive some of us.”

“I should hope not.”

“At least Chetney.”

“…I can live with that.”

They watched eachother in the near darkness, taking a moment to breath as the tension finally faded and the roar behind Imogen’s ears dimmed.

“I’m not letting you go.” Imogen reaffirmed.

Laudna smiled sadly but kissed her forehead. “I hope not, nor I, you.”

“Good.” The last of Imogen’s anger left her in a few hot tears that pressed into cold skin as they hugged and swayed for a long moment.

“Shall we try sleeping again?” Laudna murmured.

Imogen waited until she was almost sure Laudna was asleep before whispering softly. “I’m afraid I’ll see my momma walk into the storm.”

Laudna made a pained noise and cradled her closer. “I’m so sorry dear.”

“It’s alright, really, she’s easier to let go of now that I know more.”

“It’s very much not alright. It’s entirely fucked and horrible. But I’ll be right here the entire time you’re asleep, you won’t be alone for a second, I swear it.”

“Alright.”

[vishnavishivaa]

Chapter 4: Had he? (Sambandham: War of Hearts)

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

It has been a while since I posted this book, so please do check them out in case you want a refresher, or if you are new to my writing.

*******

Arun was nervous, so to say.

He could feel his entire life changing suddenly, and he would be stupid to not at least partly attribute that to Kshithija's return. Or mostly to her return. Why was he so panicky, though? He knew he had hurt her, and that guilt had now manifested heavily in his life. He had also not expected the revelations about his family to ever happen, and yet, that had shaken him heavily.

His thoughts made no sense to him, but it was what was called stream of consciousness. At least, he thought so.

His latest therapy session had told him more than he was comfortable with, but maybe driving around with music would help him gather his thoughts. They had addressed his anger issues. His anger, much like that of the men in his family specifically, was often like a raging inferno. Arun had, unfortunately, also inherited the sometimes impulsive temper of his Amma, and in combination, he often made hasty decisions, which resulted, often enough, in disastrous consequences.

At least, in his point of view.

He did consider himself blessed that despite his harsh temper, he also could usually douse the forest fire he had himself started, which was saying a lot. However, he had been in the guilt complex for hurting Kshithija for years. He had not had the guts to contact her, despite wanting to ask for her forgiveness.

He felt he needed it, and without that, the friendship he wished to reawaken between them would be awkward and stilted, in a way that they had never been before. And he did not wish for that.

Ever.

At all.

Arun let out a sigh, closing his eyes. This restlessness that had filled him since the news that Thija was returning, only multiplied in its intensity. He often wondered why she dominated his thoughts recently, but it was something that seemed beyond comprehension at that point. All he knew was that he had to make up to her, somehow, and plead on his knees to renew their easy yet deep friendship. Arun missed Kshithija deeply, and the chemistry they shared.

Platonically, that is.

Though, given some recent revelations, Arun wondered if it was only platonic. The way he felt about her, and the way she herself had been with him. Nothing about them had screamed platonic to anyone, including his and her families, and they knew the two of them the best. Even Iramathi had said that, and she knew him and Thija the best.

Or did she?

His reflexive smile turned into a frown as he recalled the recent arguments he had with his elder sister. While usually every word she said would make entire sense to him, and it was everything to him, in fact, he had started arguments recently. It felt like she had forgotten who Thija was sometimes, and it hurt him viscerally somehow.

But why did it? Why did Thija matter as if.. as if she were a part of him?

Even though his heart knew the answer to these questions, he still needed to process it, accept it, and see that it is the truth. The truth of his life had always been this way... then how had he monumentally messed up everything with Kshithija?

He still had to reflect a lot, but he had an answer off the top of his head. It was no justification for the hurt he caused her, but it was a reason. Arun had been scared, and entirely in denial. He had messed up and doubted her because he had been in denial that she meant the world to him. And if she had done what the rumours had said, he would have been shattered. In a bid to protect himself, he had doubted her, and that destroyed him from within.

It had been for years, rather. He was learning to untangle the complex web of emotions weaved across the rumours that Kshithija wanted to boss over his company, and at the base of it was fear of his heart shattering. That had led to so much mess. He could have simply talked it out with her, but instead, he had fought.

The idiot that he was.

"Arun?"

The gentle tones of Iramathi filled the dense silence of his room. He turned around to give a wan smile to his elder sister, who was already dressed to the nines, looking beautiful in her elegant aqua coloured dress.

"Akka?"

"I am sorry," Iramathi said, huffing quietly when Arun looked at her with wide and surprised eyes.

"For what, Akka?" he asked gently, hugging her. "Why are you sorry?"

"For not understanding yours or Thija's pain when you both needed me the most. I failed in being a good sibling and a good friend, but not any longer," Iramathi said quietly. "I will apologize to Thija as soon as I am able."

"But you did not doubt her at all, Akka," he said, confused.

"I did not do anything to dispel your doubts either, which is why she moved away from us," Iramathi said firmly. "I am as much at fault, Arun."

"Akka..." he hesitated for a moment before powering through. "Why did you of all people not reach out to her?"

"Because I chose you over her," Iramathi's firm reply made him hurt worse. They chose him first, and so Thija had been sidelined. Oh Shiva, what had he done? What had he done?

"No Arun, Kanna, it isn't your fault. Thija herself knew we would... it's just, obviously our ways hurt her, which I cannot fault her for. We can only repent, and only try to get her forgiveness."

Arun nodded. Iramathi made sense, her practical, logical tone calming him down. Yet, he wondered about forgiveness.

Thija would have already forgiven them, but would she ever let them close again?

Had he lost his chance with her?

Those were his thoughts, as he was led by Iramathi to get ready for the first ball of the social season. Had he lost his chance with Thija?

********

I will not speak of an update soon, cause every time I do, I end up running into writing issues. I am just glad this story is back in my creative flow.

Here's to hoping for more.

@ahamasmiyodhah @nspwriteups @whippersnappersbookworm @ragkee @chemicalmindedlotus @dr-scribbler @willkatfanfromasia @balladedutempsjadis @freeunknownwasteland @ramcharanobsessed @gemmusings @vijayasena @thirst4light @hollogramhallucination @chiyaanvikram @moon-880 @sakhiiii @thereader-radhika @ambidextrousarcher @celestesinsight @yehsahihai @thegleamingmoon @dumdaradumdaradum @rang-lo @ragkee @vijayasena @chaliyaaa @nidhi-writes @yehsahihai @hum-suffer @zeherili-ankhein @mahi-wayy @mahaswrites @leoprincess21 Please let me know your thoughts! What do you want to see in this story?

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

I've been chewing on what fears the bg3 characters would be because I do that with almost every piece of media I like now.

Gale is the Beholding (hubris, pursuit of knowledge above all else, his ex can literally see everything he does in/with the Weave). You could make an argument for Desolation b/c of the orb but I think that's secondary. Wyll is the Hunt imo, but the Desolation works for him too- I think his situation is similar to that Hunter we meet whose name I'm forgetting, whose inciting incident has to do with the Dark. I thought the same thing about Karlach but I think she's Desolation instead of Hunt, both aesthetically and because she was actively betrayed and is, you know, dying. Shadowheart is the Dark. Halsin could honestly be the Lonely: he's pretty isolated from the people around him emotionally. An island unto himself etc etc. Lae'zel is the End imo. You'd think she'd be Hunt but End fits into Vlaakith's whole deal (victim of the End, avatar of the Hunt?). Astarion could be either the Buried (since that covers abuse as well, he was literally kept underground/out of the sunlight, etc etc) or the Hunt. I'm a bit undecided there. I don't know enough about Minthara to make a call on her and I don't want to just say Web because of Lolth. Slaughter, maybe? Since that fear covers war. Jaheira and Minsc are Hunt too, I think (there's a lot of Hunt but that comes with the territory when you're adventuring).

Gortash is Web and you cannot convince me otherwise. I think Orin is Slaughter but, honestly, Durge seems more associated with the Extinction to me because of Bhaal's end goal. The Desolation and the Lonely tag-teamed Ketheric's ass but he's an avatar of the End. Dame Aylin is an avatar of the Hunt, victim of the Dark, and Isobel is an avatar of the End a la the main End avatar we see (Oliver? I really need to re-listen...)

There's obviously a lot of overlap and bleed because there always is. I've been wanting to make art based off of this but it's not happening anytime soon so I figured I'd shout about it into the void a bit lol

[jeanniebug623]

🕸️🕷️ Weaving the Web 🕷️🕸️

Chapter 15: Truth Be Told

“Nice try, kid.” Quaritch said with a huff of fatigue and a bit of frustration as he took a seat next to where the kid was crouched and watched Wainfleet take his chances with the ikran. 

Spider ground his teeth slightly and glanced down then away. Any direction to not meet the colonel’s gaze. When he ‘forgot to mention’ some parts of the iknimaya process and bonding with an ikran, the kid didn’t expect Quaritch’s challenger to fling both of them right off a ledge. Spider didn’t just feel bad because, without the colonel’s protection, he would likely end up back in a prison cell. That would be the best-case scenario. A straight jacket and padded room in the worst. 

“Must’ve been one of my other sides that forgot...” Spider said to lighten the mood. He didn’t know what the recom considered discipline for almost getting him killed but the teen REALLY didn’t want to find out either. 

“Yea right.” Quaritch said with a scoff and sarcastic smirk. He was legitimately angry with Spider for not mentioning that the Na’vi would handicap the flying beasts first before attempting to make the bond. 

“For what it’s worth...” Spider said, finally having the guts to look at Quaritch’s disappointed gaze, “...you did something Jake didn’t.” 

Ok, so it was a poor attempt at making up for Quaritch possibly falling to his death but the slight perk in the recom’s ears told Spider he’d fed his ego a little bit. Not that he wanted the recom to think he was anywhere near the level of greatness Toruk Makto was, but he had to think of saving his own skin while he was still property of the RDA. 

“You didn’t use a yìmkxa.” Spider said matter-of-factly then continued when the word meant nothing, “A banshee catcher to...you know...tie the mouth shut. There really aren’t many who don’t use them...if they don’t, it’s just to show off.” 

Quaritch noticed how the teen’s voice got quieter and more awkward as it was clear Spider was trying to butter him up. The colonel had made it quite clear the consequences of causing any trouble the first time they left Bridgehead. But a lot happened since then. He was only dealing with one snarky teenager then...not said teen, a young child, and a psychopath. 

The colonel’s frustration tempered as he rested and looked back to the cheering of Wainfleet dominating the stone arena. He chuckled a bit and said, “Ya don’t say. There’re things even the great Toruk Makto can't do, eh?” 

Spider shrugged and let out an internal sigh of relief. He avoided an ass whippin’, right? Or maybe that threat was null and void now that he was so fucked up in the head? Some of the recoms acted like they were walking on eggshells around him; some acted like nothing had changed. He wasn’t sure what he would do outside of the situation. He barely knew how to handle it as it was happening to him... 

“I am...sorry.” Spider said, glancing at Quaritch then back forward when the colonel gave him a side glance. 

Quaritch stared at the boy in his side eye glance before leaning forward and saw the boy’s jaw was set tight and his brows were furrowed up. If he had pointy ears too, the recom was sure they’d be pinned back and showing genuine regret. When he smirked again, it wasn’t forced or sarcastic and he reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair. He pretended not to notice Spider flinch then try to hide it. No need to embarrass the poor kid any more than he had been... 

“Point for you, tiger, I’d be a fool to not expect you to try and knock us all off at least once...” Quaritch said. 

Spider smiled slightly and tried to hide that as well, trying not to lean into the giant hand ruffling his locs. Part of him tried to pretend it was Jake doing it. Like in some fantasy, he had been saved and everyone was happy he was back. And Jake was promising that he would never let anything happen to him again. Treat him like his own son for once... 

And yet...it felt like Spider had that with...his dead father’s recom? Maybe that was just his brain damage making him feel that way... 

But after everything Quaritch had done the last few weeks? Taking ‘legal custody’ of Spider so he wouldn’t be prisoner, being present at every major medical test, letting him stay in an apartment reserved for military leaders instead of some grunt barracks? Well...Spider also had to remind himself that Quaritch was the reason he was kidnapped and ended up in that stupid death machine in the first place. Still...if Spider was ‘nothin’ to him’ then why was Quaritch doing so much? 

“I reckon not everyone walks away from this, do they?” Quaritch asked, interrupting Spider’s thoughts as another of the squad started scrapping with an ikran. 

“Nope.” Spider said, watching Lopez get flipped right off the ikran’s back as soon as he managed to mount it. 

“And kids do this?” the colonel followed up with. 

“Like I said, younger than me. Just part of being seen as an adult in the clan. Becoming one of the People. Some of them never make it...” Spider said, his mood dropping with his tone. Despite all he had accomplished, as far as young hunters his age go, he would never follow in his friends’ footsteps. Though Quaritch took it in more the literal sense, which was also true... 

“So, parents send their kids up here to die?” Quaritch said, his ears pinning back. Something twisted in his gut that made him feel uncomfortable about a teen younger than the boy next to him taking on such a dangerous challenge. Then the twisting tightened when he thought about the danger he’d put Spider and the Sully kids upon finding them in the woods. 

No, that was unexpected and could have proved useful to finally getting Sully in the RDA’s crosshairs. 

COULD HAVE. 

“Not to die.” Spider corrected quickly, “To prove themselves.” 

“Ya ever seen a kid fail this test?” Quaritch asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes, but he didn’t die. He came back when he was ready and did it again.” Spider said, shifting his feet closer together in his crouched position and crossing his arms on his knees. The position was guarded and Quaritch could tell the boy didn’t want to talk. 

“One of Sully’s kids...?” the recom asked quietly. 

“Yea...” Spider said plainly and buried his chin in his arms as he watched the squad continue to pair up with the ikrans. Something he would never be able to do. Spider would grow up, sure. Something about being considered an adult at 18? What the hell did a number have to do with proving oneself an adult? And what did that matter to his people? To the Omatikaya? Age had nothing to do with being one of the people...it was what they did in those years. And there was a lot that Spider could not do... 

The teen didn’t want to admit he was impressed with the recoms when they were all off the mountains and sitting around a campfire with their new partners snug on the cliffs around them for the night. Spider stayed quiet and just smiled to himself as he listened to the squad give each other a hard time over what they could have done better against the ikrans. 

“That’s bull and you know it!” Lopez shot back as he was on the receiving end of most of the hazing. 

“Seriously, brother, if you hadn’t tried to jump it so quick, you wouldn’t have landed on your ass.” Wainfleet jeered with a laugh. 

Spider watched the way the recoms spoke to each other. They goaded each other in a way no different than himself and Lo’ak. It sounded tough but was all in good fun. The comradery. The warrior’s brotherhood. They were practically a family. More of a family than he ever had. He tried to push that thought away. He did have people in his life like this...he really did. They’d just...left him behind. Well, Jake probably made that call so was he really surprised by it? He wasn’t Jake’s kid...and he wasn’t worth the risk... 

“Spider?” Quaritch said for the third time, concerned the boy was disassociating and one of the alters had stepped in without any of them noticing. He placed a gentle hand on Spider’s shoulder and looked into his eyes while asking, “You good, boy?” 

“Yea, why?” Spider asked. Traces of panic infiltrated his mind. Did he lose time? Did someone else take over? 

“Yea.” Quaritch said quickly to put concern out of the boy’s mind, “I asked you three times if you were still hungry, but you didn’t answer.” 

“Oh...sorry...” Spider said, sighing quietly in relief as he looked back at the fire. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, kid.” 

“I think I’m just tired...”  

“You should be after tryin’ to leave us behind in the mountains.” Quaritch said as he patted the boy’s head and nodded off to where their sleep mats were laid out away from the fire, “Off to bed now, son. Get.” 

Spider stared at Quaritch, long enough that the colonel looked confused. ‘Son’ was not a word Spider was used to hearing unless it was in the context of ‘son of the demon’. He wasn’t really that tired. His brain was too busy processing his shifting perception of Quaritch and the recoms. How could being stuck with people who were supposed to be ‘the enemy’ feel like such a safe place to be...? 

Eventually, he nodded and wandered over to lay down away from where the fire polluted his night vision. Laying on his back, Spider stared up at the starry sky and shifting colors from the aurora. 

“Everything ok, boss?” Wainfleet asked, interrupting the colonel’s thoughts and staring at the boy. 

“Yea, Lyle...” Quaritch said, running his hand over his chin, “Just tryin’ to figure out what’s on the kid’s mind. Can’t read him today.” 

“You could just ask him.” Wainfleet suggested. 

“I asked him if he was good. Said he was.” 

“He might think he’s good. Or it might be easier to just say he’s good. Don’t you remember being a teenager? Last thing you wanted when a parent asked what was wrong was to actually tell them the truth.” 

“Parent?” 

Quaritch and Wainfleet looked at each other in silence. 

“Well, you know...ANY adult asking a teenager what’s wrong...they’re gonna avoid talking about it.” Wainfleet said. He didn’t realize what he’d said until his friend called him on it. Regardless of the shock of the term used, the corporal clapped his hand on the colonel's shoulder as he stood. “I’ll take your watch, boss. Take the night off.” 

Quaritch watched Wainfleet take up arms and start the new two hour perimeter watch. He cleared his throat and looked back to Spider. He could see he wasn’t asleep. In fact, the kid was pointing up at the stars and slowly moving his hand around. He cleared his throat again to distract himself from procrastinating then went over to the boy. 

“Not as tired as you thought, eh?” Quaritch said as his shadow blocked the firelight. 

“Too bright with the fire...” Spider lied. 

“Ah, right...hate that...” the colonel sat down, continuing to block the firelight. “Better?” 

“Yea...thanks...” Spider said, resting his hand on his stomach. 

“What’s got your head in the clouds, tiger?” Quaritch asked, leaning his head back to look up at the stars as well. 

“Just looking at the pictures in the stars.” Spider said with a shrug. 

“The Na’vi got constellations too?”  

“Yea...” 

“Like what?” 

Spider rolled his head to look at Quaritch as he continued to see what he could figure out on his own. He couldn’t tell if the recom really cared about the stars, but he did care enough to come over and check on Spider. So, he might as well humor the conversation... 

“There’s Tuvom Taronyu and Taronyutsyìp right there...” Spider pointed to two clusters next to each other. “The Greatest Hunter and the Little Hunter.” 

Quaritch looked at where Spider was pointing but it just looked like shiny dots in the sky to him. His ears twitched back, and he shuffled down the mat so he could lay back to see it from the same perspective as Spider. It didn’t help much and he asked, “Not seein’ a damn thing, Spider, what am I lookin’ at here?” 

“There.” Spider pointed up and the colonel tilted his head to get a better look, leaning his cheek against the top of Spider’s head. “You see the spear in the Greatest Hunter’s hands? And the bow in the Little Hunter’s?” 

“Ehh...” was all Quaritch could say as he tried to see what the boy was seeing. He held up his arm between them. Spider leaned his head further into the gap between the recom’s head and shoulder to look up the direction of his arm. 

“More like...there.” Spider said as he reached over to grab ahold of Quaritch’s arm and moved it into a better position. As he re-explained, he continued to move the recom’s hand accordingly like he was tracing the stars like a connect the dots page out of a child’s coloring book. “There’s the big hunter. And the spear...is over their head. See?” 

“Ah, yea.” Quaritch said, genuinely seeing the full picture now. The teen continued to tell him about the constellation and then some. He pointed out animals and plants and Na’vi folklore. The fire had been put out and the squad went to sleep. The sounds of the forest echoed, but all Quaritch could hear at that moment was the boy next to him as spoke with such fervor and passion that they could forget about what brought them to this point in time. And what unpredictable future lay ahead for the boy. 

“There.” Spider said suddenly, pointing to a constellation that had peeked out from behind the floating mountains as the stars moved across the sky over the time they’d been talking. “That one’s mine.” 

“Yours? Don’t tell me they do that horoscope bullshit here on Pandora too.” Quaritch grumbled as he tried to figure out what Spider was pointing at. Then a thought crossed his mind...what was Spider’s zodiac sign? He may not have cared for it, but Paz did. 

“I don’t know what that is.” Spider said before quickly moving on and drawing over the stars with his pointed finger so Quaritch could get an idea of what the image was, “A lot of times, Na’vi kids will claim a star or a constellation as kind of a guardian. Something to watch over them when they can’t watch over themselves. You know, like when you’re asleep? That one’s mine.” 

“Kinda looks like a...” Quaritch tilted his head to the side and squinted. He really didn’t want to insult the kid by his interpretation. Considering how many countless stars were in the sky, this specific constellation seemed sparse. It had the least amount of stars after the boy traced over it again. He cleared his throat quietly when he felt the kid’s head bump against his shoulder to prompt him to continue speaking and said, “Like a little arrowhead...surrounded by little spindly legs. But it looks all by its lonesome.” 

Spider snorted at the description and tilted his head against Quaritch’s arm again, “I mean you’re not wrong...” 

“What’s your little guardian called?” Quaritch asked, smiling that he figured it out without embarrassing himself too badly. 

“Le’awtu Swirä.” Spider answered quietly. 

“And that means, smart guy?” 

“Lonely Creature.” 

Silence fell between the two. Quaritch found himself missing the boy’s endless astronomy lecture immediately. To the colonel’s relief, Spider spoke up to further explain. 

“It’s not what you think...” Spider said vaguely. He took in a breath then let it out before continuing, “The Lonely Creature is one of the Na’vi’s greatest stories. It’s about an unknown creature that lives everywhere on Pandora. In the forest, the mountains, the seas, the deserts...everywhere. No one knows what it looks like, but they know it’s there.” 

“A whole pack of unknown critters?” Quaritch asked. 

“No, just one. But it can be anywhere it wants to be. Not knowing what the Lonely Creature is makes it accepted wherever it goes. The Na’vi respect the Lonely Creature because they don’t know what it is. They don't hate what they don’t understand. They need a reason to hate something...so they don’t hate what they don’t know.” Spider said, his eyes staring unblinking at his guardian in the stars. 

Silence fell between the two as stones sunk into Quaritch’s stomach. There were a lot of reasons for the humans and the Na’vi to hate each other. That was for damn sure. But he didn’t care about that. Spider was so expendable that there were no rescue attempts. If that didn’t say ‘hate’ in some form of the word, Quaritch didn’t know what did. But this poor kid didn’t deserve that... 

“Means more now than ever...most kids stop believing in them way younger than me...” Spider admitted sheepishly. 

“Yea? Why’s that?” Quaritch asked, quietly. 

“They don’t need stars to watch over them because they can connect to who’s here...they’re protected by who’s here...” Spider answered. A third silence. The colonel didn’t know if the kid was talking about parents or the clan or their great goddess Eywa. It seemed this Lonely Creature chose to stay lonely just to feel wanted, respected, and a part of something. Even if it that acceptance was based on how far it could stay away... 

“Am I ever going to be ok...?” Spider asked with a quiet voice, barely able to escape his tight throat. He didn’t feel as lonely as he used to. It was hard to when all he could think about was the extra personalities that he could not control. But they were there in his mind.  

“You’re already ok.” Quaritch said, struggling almost as badly as Spider was to speak. The boy didn’t answer but he heard him shifting until he was lying with his back to the recom. Quaritch contemplated his next decision, both for his sake and the boy’s, before sweeping his arm out and around the boy to pull him close. 

Spider may have been a little panicked mentally but allowed Quaritch to scoop him up in his arm to be pulled back against the recom’s side. The recom's arm was so long it could lay around his head and bend up at the elbow, so a large hand rested on the boy’s upper arm. Quaritch gave it a light squeeze and Spider found himself curling his head comfortably into the arm of the closest person he ever had to a father... 

Got to give a shout out to @naavispider for inspiration for their stargazing scene from chapter 12 of If You Ain't Playing Me. ✨

[archiveikemen]

Abe no Yasuchika • Sutokuin/Akihito Main Story: Chapter 3

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting┊aikm’s Genjiden Glossary

Akihito: By the way, aren’t you afraid of talking to me like this?

Yuno: Huh?

Akihito-sama’s handsome face drew closer, sending my heart racing.

Akihito: I’m well aware that I was once a terrifying enemy to you.

Abysmal eyes stared intently at me, it was like they were staring right into the depths of my heart.

(Deception definitely won’t work on Akihito-sama.)

Yuno: … That’s true. You were indeed terrifying as an enemy.

I weaved my web of words while cautiously sounding my thoughts.

Yuno: But strangely, I no longer fear you.

Yuno: I also recently learned that you have a surprisingly awkward side to you.

(Both Yasuchika-san and Akihito-sama… the two of them were different from their usual elusive selves.)

(I feel like I’m starting to understand what kind of people they are, even just a little bit.)

Akihito: Awkward, huh. Was that supposed to be a compliment?

Yuno: Ah, I’m sorry, it was my mistake… but I didn’t mean it in a negative way at all!

(That was indeed disrespectful of me.)

Akihito: It’s fine. I don’t deny that I’ve shown you some rather disgraceful sides of me today.

Yasuchika: When I asked you to check on Yasuchika for me during the day for instance, and right now.

Yuno: No, I don’t think you’re acting disgraceful.

Yuno: … Instead, I think you’re the kind of person to treat what’s precious to you with a lot of care.

Akihito: You mean Yasuchika?

Yuno: Yes.

I nodded and Akihito-sama stared reminiscently into the distance..

Akihito: It’s because that boy and I met in a rather unique way.

(I really wonder what happened between them.)

However, I figured that it would be too inappropriate to casually ask such a personal question, so I perished the thought and watched his calm side profile.

Akihito-sama said nothing more, then he suddenly smiled at me.

Akihito: — Sorry. I made you listen to my rambling.

Yuno: It’s fine. Um…

When Akihito-sama tried to end the conversation, I spontaneously stopped him.

(I want to at least tell him this much.)

Yuno: You mentioned earlier that you feel confused about receiving the Hero’s Power…

Yuno: I believe there was surely a meaning behind specifically the two of you being chosen as heroes.

Akihito: A meaning…?

Yuno: Yes. The Yamata no Orochi said that we won’t be given a trial we can’t conquer.

Yuno: If both of you work together, there might be a way through this.

(I don’t know the relationship between Akihito-sama and Yasuchika-san very well, but—)

(I can see that they both care deeply about each other.)

Akihito-sama chuckled at my words.

Akihito: … You’re right. After hearing you say that, I’m starting to feel that way too.

Yuno: My apologies. That was impertinent of me…

Akihito: No, I thank you for saying that.

Akihito: Yasuchika and I are undeniably a little cowardly.

Akihito: That’s why it might be best to have someone straightforward like you as a medium of the underworld.

(Akihito-sama…)

(I still don’t know what I can contribute to this war… but at least, I hope to be a form of support to Akihito-sama and Yasuchika-san.)

…

Not long after, there were reportedly sightings of the undead in a province not far from Kamakura.

(According to the report submitted to the Shogunate, they should be around here.)

To avoid causing damage to the nearby village, we divided ourselves into teams to patrol the area.

(From the Shogunate, there’s Shigehira-kun, Rikka, and Tamamo; while the Rebel Army assigned Benkei to guard the other side of the village.)

(I’m patrolling this area alongside Akihito-sama, Yasuchika-san, and Ibuki, but—)

Signs of the undead were nowhere to be seen, so we decided to wait for a while.

Soldiers dispatched from the Shogunate were in the vicinity.

Soldier 1: Still, I never expected us to end up being under the lead of some suspicious person from the Imperial Court.

Soldier 2: Shh! He can hear you. You never know where Yasuchika-dono placed his shikigami.

(As expected, there’s still some distrust towards the Imperial Court.)

(Although it’s understandable if you think about what happened between us in the past, but I wonder if we’ll work together just fine.)

Rikka: Found you, Yuno.

Yuno: Rikka!

Yuno: What’s the matter? Did something happen to Shigehira-kun and the others?

Rikka: Nah, I was told to check on you. They’re doing fine over there.

(That’s a relief…)

Rikka: … In any case, Shigehira is really harsh when it comes to making use of ayakashi.

Rikka continued languidly.

Rikka: I only took a short break and he’s already back to get me to work, and he tells me to come check on you the moment I have any free time.

(That’s how hardworking Shigehira-kun is…)

In contrast to that, while Rikka has been cooperative with us so far, he still has the carefree nature of an ayakashi.

(Before we set out, he was making snow sculptures in the corner of the room during the war council.)

Rikka: Where are Akihito and Yasuchika?

Yuno: They’re checking on the situation over there with Ibuki. Should I call them over?

Rikka: Nah, no need. I’d rather you not.

Rikka firmly declined.

(What’s wrong?)

While I internally questioned the tone of his response, Rikka’s gaze shifted to something behind me.

Rikka: … Speak of the devil, Yasuchika’s here. Help me out, Yuno.

Yuno: Huh?

I thought I felt two hands on my shoulders and was immediately spun around.

A little distance from us, I spotted Yasuchika-san and Akihito-sama returning after completing their checks.

(Perfect timing.)

Yuno: Akihito-sama! Yasuchika-san! Rikka’s here to check on us.

The two of them noticed us and started walking in our direction.

But before they reached us, Rikka hastily leaned in and whispered in my ear.

Rikka: I’ve passed the message to you. I’ll get going now.

Yuno: Eh? Why…

I turned around to see that Rikka had already disappeared.

(When did he…!?)

Yasuchika: Aww, he escaped.

Yasuchika-san’s shoulders slumped while walking up to me.

Akihito: He’s quite a cunning ayakashi to use Yuno as a shield.

Yasuchika: It’s not like I’m going to do anything to him. Right, Yuno-san?

Yuno: It could be that you’ve already done something to him…

Yasuchika: Hmm… just a little bit!

(I knew it!)

Yasuchika: All I did was have him cooperate with me for a little experiment.

Yasuchika: Ri-chan always gets irritated quickly and escapes the moment I take my eyes off him, so the experiment failed.

Akihito: Attempting to force him into making a pact with you was a bad idea, I guess.

(H-he did WHAT…!?)

Yasuchika: It was worth a try! By nature, it’s impossible for an Onmyōji to make a pact with an ayakashi, however—

Yasuchika: I thought it might work given my current state whereby I can’t use my Onmyō magic like I usually do.

Yasuchika: If I were to make a pact with a powerful ayakashi, I could use its abilities in place of Onmyō magic alongside the Hero’s Power to fight.

Yuno: So you’re still having trouble using your Onmyō magic after all?

Yasuchika: It’s not completely unusable. I managed to develop a technique to control the power just in time.

Yasuchika: In fact, I’m actually using a shikigami to do the scouting right now.

(Thank goodness…)

I heaved a sigh of relief when I recalled how cornered Yasuchika looked the last time.

Yasuchika: … However, I have to suppress the Hero’s Power when using Onmyō magic; and I can’t use Onmyō magic when using the Hero’s Power.

Akihito: So that means it’s difficult to deal a fatal blow to the undead using Onmyō magic.

Yasuchika: That’s correct.

Yasuchika-san nodded at Akihito-sama and turned his gaze back onto me.

Yasuchika: Therefore, my weapon in this battle will be a sword infused with the Hero’s Power.

(I see…)

Yuno: It really is impossible to use Onmyō magic and the Hero’s Might together at the same time after all, huh.

Yasuchika: To put it bluntly, yes. Well, there are other methods, but—

Yasuchika: Attempting to forcibly use both powers simultaneously would cause them to go out of control.

Yuno: In other words, it’s dangerous?

Yasuchika: Yeah, I’d rather not do that. There’s a possibility of it affecting Akihito-sama too.

Akihito: …

The look on Akihito-sama’s face looked like he wanted to say something but decided not to.

(Could Akihito-sama also know about that other method?)

Yasuchika: However, it’s fine if we don’t use that method.

Yasuchika: I may not be as skilled a fighter as the warriors, my swordsmanship is decent enough.

(Everything will definitely be alright if Yasuchika-san says so… I guess.)

Akihito: By the way, what did Rikka come to tell us?

Yuno: He only said he was here to check on us. It looks like Shigehira-kun and the others haven’t encountered any undead either.

The moment I said that, Yasuchika-san looked up as though he just sensed something.

Yuno: Yasuchika-san?

Yasuchika: — They're here.

Soldier 1: AAAAAHHH! MONSTERS!

Yuno: …!

The soldiers could be heard screaming from the bushes.

The soldiers who were resting immediately stood up and drew their swords.

Akihito: Looks like this is where we’ll be fighting them.

Yasuchika: Akihito-sama, the sorcery tools.

The two put on their respective forehead ornaments.

(…!)

When the light faded away—

I gasped at the sight of their new appearances.

Yasuchika: …! This is…

Akihito: I’m assuming this is due to the cursed powers of the ayakashi.

(They look like… they have matching appearances.)

Their almost otherworldly mystical appearances had me gazing admiringly at them.

Yasuchika: Let’s go, Akihito-sama.

Akihito: Yuno, try not to leave our side.

Yuno: … Okay!

The instant they headed in the direction of the screaming—

Grotesque-looking creatures emerged from among the trees.

(T-those are the undead…)

Undead: Gyaaaa!

The undead let out ear-piercing cries as they approached us.

While everyone froze in fear from seeing those creatures for the first time, Akihito-sama stepped forward and removed his bracelet.

Akihito: Stop moving.

(Is that his kotodama…?)

The undead’s movements slowed for a brief moment before they quickly recovered and started running towards us.

Akihito: … I see. It’s just as I expected, kotodama is barely effective on them.

Akihito: In that case—

Akihito-sama raised his hand, and a bolt of lightning struck the undead.

Undead 2: Eeek…!

The undead that were burnt by the lightning turned into ashes.

However, a new wave of undead trampled over the ashes and rushed towards us.

(There’s more…!)

At the same time my body tensed up, another bolt of lightning struck the undead.

Ibuki: Looks like it started while I was away, huh.

Yuno: Ibuki…!

Ibuki: It’s still too early to relax.

The fallen undead rose again.

Undead 3: Kill the living! Kill them!

Undead 4: Kill them!

Newly spawned undead poured out from among the trees, increasing in number and attacking us relentlessly.

The horrifying scene was so repulsing, my legs nearly gave out due to my natural instincts.

Soldier 2: W-what the hell is that…

Soldier 3: Damn it! There’s no way we can fight those things.

(Oh no, some of the soldiers are entering a state of panic…!)

Some of the soldiers went into chaos and started running away from the undead instead of fighting them.

Ibuki: How disappointing that they’re abandoning their duties just because their own general isn’t here.

Ibuki: This battle is going to be a tough one, huh? Akihito.

Akihito: Unfortunately so, but we can’t do without them.

With a charming smile, Akihito-sama summoned a bolt of lightning in the path of the fleeing soldiers.

Soldier 1: Eek!

Akihito: There’s no running away. If all of you are truly that afraid, I can just use kotodama on you.

Akihito: However, wouldn’t you rather face the enemies with your own convictions than be controlled like puppets to fight against your wills?

Soldier 2: Ugh…

Soldiers: We have no other choice but to fight…! Damn it.

(… Akihito-sama is indeed terrifying on the battlefield.)

Yasuchika: Everyone’s looking motivated! Looks like I should keep up too.

He drew his sword that emitted an eerie glow.

Yasuchika: I won’t allow them to go near Akihito-sama again.

Yasuchika-san stood at the front and cut down the approaching undead, his movements graceful like he were dancing.

Akihito: As expected of you, Yasuchika. But you should leave me some opportunities to shine too.

Akihito-sama’s lightning ability burnt a wide range of enemies to ashes—

While Yasuchika-san finished off the undead that managed to survive Akihito-sama’s attacks.

Soldier 1: We might actually win if we keep this up! Chaaarrrgeee!

With a battle cry to boost their morale, the previously frightened soldiers charged at the undead all at once.

(I can’t believe the two of them aren’t at their fullest potential yet.)

Akihito: It seems that the Necromancer is continuously summoning the undead while hiding somewhere.

Yasuchika: I’ve made the necessary preparations for my shikigami to request for reinforcements if we get attacked.

Yasuchika: Therefore, if we could just hold on a little more, we might be able to find the Necromancer.

Yasuchika-san’s words sounded slightly reassuring.

However, more undead kept on appearing with every one we defeated…

Yasuchika: ggh…

Yasuchika-san let out a small groan and retreated to my side.

Beads of sweat could be seen on his forehead.

Yuno: Yasuchika-san, are you in pain—

Yasuchika: I’m fine. It’s just that fighting this violently isn’t something I’m used to doing.

His response was as nonchalant as usual, and yet…

I knew very well that Yasuchika-san was the type of person to push himself too far over the edge while pretending everything was fine.

(Whenever Yasuchika-san uses the Hero’s Power, he constantly has to suppress his Onmyō magic.)

(It’s definitely much more complicated than it looks.)

Akihito: Step back, Yasuchika. I can handle the rest.

Yasuchika: I can’t do that. Akihito-sama, your ability isn’t meant to be used repeatedly.

Yasuchika: If you push yourself any further than this, it’ll harm your body.

(T-that’s…)

(But we’ve already sent a request for reinforcements to Shigehira-kun and the others. If we could just hold out a little longer until they arrive…!)

I could feel their frustration from being unable to fight, I prayed hard for reinforcements to arrive sooner and that was when—

The trees rustled and a man came forward from amongst the undead.

(This one is different from the undead.)

Akihito: Looks like the mastermind has finally shown himself.

Yasuchika: That’s the Necromancer…

Necromancer: All you annoying heroes, how dare you despicably change the course of fate and cling to your lives so desperately.

Necromancer: Kill the heroes first! We can finish off the rest of them after.

More undead emerged from the ground in response to the Necromancer’s command.

(T-this is endless…!)

Despite being cut down, the undead rushed past the soldiers towards Yasuchika-san and Akihito-sama.

Yasuchika: Apparently it seems that they’ve locked onto us.

Akihito: Ibuki. I leave Yuno to you.

(Wha…)

Akihito-sama gave me a hard push on the back towards Ibuki who caught me.

Ibuki: Oof. You’re being unusually rough.

Akihito: I’ll apologise later.

I caught a brief glimpse of Akihito-sama’s smile directed at me before the newly emerged undead obstructed my view.

Before we knew it, Ibuki and I were outside the circle of undead.

Yuno: But the two of them…!

Ibuki: Be good and step back. Losing the medium of the underworld would be too big of a blow. c

The smile on Ibuki’s lips made him seem as though he were enjoying the situation.

Ibuki: For now, we can only attack from the outside to support them.

Ibuki: Also, this is as far as those two can go if they don’t make it out alive.

(What…!?)

Yasuchika: … This would’ve been a child’s play if I could effectively use Onmyō magic.

Akihito: Say, Yasuchika. What we’re doing right now looks really out of character for us, don’t you think?

Yasuchika: You’re right. Akihito-sama aside, I shudder at the thought of being called a hero.

Akihito: But we were chosen to be the holders of this power.

Yasuchika: …

Akihito: Like Yuno said, there must be a meaning behind specifically the two of us being chosen.

Akihito: When she puts it that way, I can’t help but to live up to the expectations of a hero. c

Akihito: But looking at our current situation, winning is impossible. So how about we make a bet?

Yasuchika: A bet…?

Akihito: You still have another trump card, don’t you? I’ve been thinking the same thing.

Yasuchika: We absolutely can’t do that. If it fails, you’ll be affected by it too.

Akihito: I don’t want to do it either. — I don’t want to curse you.

(… What on earth are they talking about?)

The disturbing conversation gave me the chills.

Akihito: But I still want to give it a try because we can’t afford to die here.

Yasuchika: …

Akihito: I believe you can succeed, Yasuchika.

Akihito: Do you not trust me?

Yasuchika: …! That’s not the case at all.

Yasuchika: Ahh fine, please hate me forever if I fail!

Seemingly having given in to despair, Yasuchika muttered something under his breath.

The hand he stretched out towards Akihito-sama contained a ball of light.

Yasuchika: — Let’s do this.

Akihito-sama nodded and held his hand out to the light.

Akihito: Two powers that devour each other. Tame them, accept them. The soul becomes a vessel, creating an even greater power.

Ibuki: … Heh, looks like they came up with something interesting.

The sides of Ibuki’s lips lifted into a grin while he attacked the undead from the outside.

(Could it be… Yasuchika-san is mixing his Onmyō magic with both of their Hero’s Power?)

As the ball of light in their hands glowed brighter, Yasuchika-san’s face twisted in agony for a moment.

Yasuchika: ugh…

Akihito: Yasuchika.

Yasuchika: … This level of power is nothing to me.

Yasuchika: — After all, I am THE prodigious Onmyōji!

The light focused between their hands.

Akihito: Well done.

Yasuchika: You too, Akihito-sama; for improvising on such a reckless plan.

Yasuchika: These powers normally wouldn’t merge with each other, but you made it possible to turn them into a new kind of power by cursing me.

Akihito: It feels good being praised by you.

Akihito: That said, your trust in me and non-resistance to my curse were crucial in leading to the success of our plan.

Yasuchika: Of course I have trust in you completely, Akihito-sama.

Akihito: — Well then, shall we finish this once and for all?

The ball of light burst and sent the surrounding undead flying before going on to engulf the Necromancer.

Yuno: Amazing…

Both the undead and the soldiers paused their fighting momentarily to stare in awe at the scene unfolding before their eyes.

After the light dispersed…

The Necromancer, dragging his body on the verge of collapsing, glared at the two men.

Necromancer: If I’m going to be defeated here… I’ll make sure to at least drag one of you down with me!

Several newly appeared undead emerged around the Necromancer.

Yasuchika: You don’t know when to give up, huh.

Yasuchika-san chanted something to activate another spell.

As though intending to take advantage of the opportunity, the Necromancer threw what appeared to be a dagger in Yasuchika-san’s direction.

Yuno: Watch out!

Yasuchika: …!

There was no way his Onmyō magic or special abilities would react in time.

In the moment I felt my stomach drop—

(Ah.)

Akihito-sama threw himself in front of Yasuchika-san, shielding him with his body.

Akihito: Ggh…

Akihito-sama took the dagger instead and fell to his knees.

Yasuchika: Akihito-sama…?

Yuno: A-are you alright?

Akihito: Just a scratch, it’s no big deal.

I ran over to Akihito-sama’s side.

His kimono was torn at the shoulder, revealing the wound caused by the dagger.

(The wound is indeed not deep enough to cause any serious problems. But in this condition…)

Akihito-sama’s breathing was laboured and he struggled to stand.

Yuno: Could the Hero’s Power be going out of control…?

Akihito: … It seems so. I can’t believe that out of all times, I’m rendered unable to move in a time like this.

Yasuchika: — How dare you injure Akihito-sama.

At the sound of Yasuchika-san’s chilling voice, I looked up to see him casting a spell towards the Necromancer.

The Necromancer didn’t even have the chance to cry out at his moment of death before turning into particles and disappearing into the wind.

Yasuchika: Yuno-san, let’s move Akihito-sama somewhere safe.

Yuno: Y-yes! If I’m not mistaken, there should be a small hut over there—

Undead: Kill both heroes!

Undead 2: Kill them…!

(Oh no, we must do something about the remaining undead…!)

The approaching undead were suddenly sent flying by a roaring bolt of lightning.

Ibuki: The soldiers and I will stall them until Shigehira arrives, he should be here soon.

Yuno: Ibuki…

Yasuchika: Akihito-sama, please hold onto me.

Akihito: Thanks. Sorry for the trouble.

Yasuchika: I should be the one apologising. Why did you shield me…?

Yasuchika: — Nevermind that. Most importantly, we should get you treated at once.

…

Yasuchika-san swallowed the words he wanted to say and carried Akihito-sama to a nearby hut with a pained expression.

Yasuchika: I have to leave to deal with the remaining undead.

Yasuchika: Just in case, I’ll station a few soldiers to stand guard outside the hut.

Yuno: Understood. You should be careful too, Yasuchika-san.

Yasuchika: I’ll be fine. More importantly—

Yasuchika-san looked at me with worried eyes.

Yasuchika: Please, I leave Akihito-sama in your care.

(Yasuchika-san… he must be feeling responsible for Akihito-sama’s injury.)

Wanting to give him even just a little bit of reassurance, I nodded firmly.

Yuno: It’s alright, I will. Please leave him to me.

[possessionisamyth]

Thought of Sherry and made myself sad because she was 10 (retconned from being 12) during the whole Raccoon City incident and didn't have her pseudo parents (Claire and Leon) for a week before she's being shifted into Simmons' hands.

I was thinking of what kind of lie and the strings of control Simmons would have to cast in order to make Sherry trust him. I can believe she was tutored the year the incident took place partially because they wanted to check her danger levels as a bioweapon and partially because she was a traumatized child so her mental state would need to be balanced before being thrown back into school. The best place for her would be private school the whole time. There's a level of control money brings, and Simmons would be able to pay off or make disappear anyone who might see something strange about her. He'd funnel her to private doctors and nurses for all her appointments where she might be out of school for a week here and there, but her absence and lack of work wouldn't be punished either because, again, money talks.

I can think of her as suspicious and untrustworthy of Simmons at the beginning because Leon promised to protect her, and she's hearing nothing from him. I'd think Simmons would extend an olive branch to keep that control and lie appropriately. If he says Leon abandoned her, it would incite rebellion, and he needed Sherry to trust him. He'd probably tell her Leon was paying for everything with his job so she could live a normal life. Her acceptance of this would come in tiny waves. She did hear other student's parents talk about how expensive tuition and supplies and uniforms are. She is getting the nicest toys whether they're limited edition or sold out before they appear in her room all wrapped up with a bow. She can decorate her room however she wants and anything she needs is provided quickly.

She can't see Simmons weaving the web where sometimes her gifts would read "From: Leon". It's not his handwriting, but Sherry wouldn't know. She doesn't get that an extended school vacation after breaking an arm which healed in a week instead of 6-8 weeks was a means of keeping up the air of normalcy to her peers. She's told over and over Leon's working hard to make sure she has the best of everything, and does she really want to stop him? Does she know what'll happen if she does? Suddenly it's like she's with her parents again. That if she makes too much of a fuss she'll cause problems for them. She'll cause problems for Leon. So she oh so gradually stops asking where he is and what he's doing and when she can see him. Besides, the excuses for why she can't know that information were getting old and tired anyway. "He just left the country", or "He's getting special training," or "He's moving again". It was like they weren't even trying to not lie to her.

Until Claire comes to visit. What better way for Simmons to cement the trust he needs then to let Sherry see the other important person in her life as much as she can? Which does work. When Claire visits on her school breaks and holidays, the lies do feel a lot more like the truth. Sherry doesn't expect Claire and Leon to be attached at the hip, but if Claire can visit while being busy with college, maybe Leon was as busy as Simmons said. It helps that Claire admits she also struggles getting in contact with Leon. So maybe Leon was almost always out of the country and getting training and working all hours since everything Sherry needed was so expensive. Maybe he was working so hard to make sure Sherry had the best life she could. Maybe she should stop trying to see deception that wasn't there and work hard herself to make sure Leon's efforts went to something good. So she stops asking for Leon except maybe around the milestone events like the 13th birthday and 16th birthday and 18th birthday, and highschool graduation, and college graduation, and by then? By then, all the little red flags of Simmons control hadn't registered until RE6 where the mask comes off.

She sees Leon for the first time in 15 years, and it's him telling her everything was a lie. Simmons was a traitor and never had her best interest in mind. Never had their best interest in mind, and too many things are happening for her to process the information. She just has to swallow it all.

What's worse is she probably would try her best not to beat herself up about it, but I don't know how well she'd succeed. The looping mantra of knowing at 10 years old she was right about the lies and fell for them anyway. Having the hindsight of an adult to notice every single time Simmons nudged her life this way or that way to make sure she did everything he wanted. Questioning how many of her decisions were her wanting to be better than her parents, to make Leon's effort worth it, to be as well-adjusted as she could be around Claire, how much was actually her and how much was Simmons' manipulation? How much of her choices and personhood were hers and not a result of what Simmons wanted her to be? Fingers crossed she took a long vacation after RE6, and a longer vacation to really comb through that contract Simmons definitely gave her for her current career.

[otrtbs]

hi!!

thank you so much for everything that you’ve contributed to this fandom, seriously, your time has been invaluable. people treat fanfic authors like a writing machine, but no, this is just your hobby!!

i was wanting to ask about your writing process:

1. when writing, do you usually write most/all of your fic before starting to post it?

2. how much do you outline before starting to write?

3. how do you keep up with what seems to be a semi regular posting schedule (as in like, staying committed to a fic and actually completing it lol)

sorry if you’ve already answered any of these before :)

hey hey heyo!!! this is so sweet!!

it honestly depends! with ahb!, i had a very good direction and plan on where i was taking the fic so i knew each chapter before i sat down to write it! but winterlude was more free-form. i was like, i want these 15 things to happen over 4 chapters lets make it work! and then with the dinner fic, that's one that i am writing out in its entirety before i post it. because there's a lot of details and web-weaving that go into it, and if i drop a thread somewhere it'll make the whole tory unravel, so it has to be complete before anyone else sees it. so it really depends on the vibe/intricacy of the fic!!

most of the time i'll try to outline a solid timeline with beginning and then major points to the end in chronological order. (so with art heist imagine like: 1. james introduction. 2. job interview/acquisition 3. assembling the heist team 4. meeting the team 5. new hampshire training 6. practice heist 7. heist 8. art swaps (berlin/amsterdam/portofino/copenhagen) 9. regulus death 10. grieving 11. healing 12. ending) <- and then i would go in and fill in things like,,, how does a jegulus relationship develop amidst all of this? and then you get sub-plot points like the museum date, the drowning degas, the auction house date, etc. until you get a pretty good fleshed-out idea! and then as i write and have even more ideas, i can plop them down somewhere on the timeline (amsterdam coffeeshop meeting/last supper group dinner/ etc) . and before writing each chapter,,, i sort of break chapters down into mini-stories with their own beginnings, middle, ends. just to make sure something is happening in each chapter, and it has structure.

this is putting so much faith in me hahah!! my posting schedule ranges from twice in one week to once in 4-6 months. and sometimes i just delete works if im not feeling them anymore ah! but!! i will say, the biggest way i stay committed to completing a story is having an ending in mind that i'm excited to execute or get to!! like something on the horizon at the end of the story normally motivates me to write enough to get to that point. but it's also just okay to stop writing a certain story if you're feeling uninspired!! sometimes, when i'm feeling burnt-out with one story and i'm not motivated to finish it, i'll just leave it alone and go work on something i'm actually interested in for a while until i feel the interest spark up again!! (hence...months between uploads sometimes) 😋

[quaranmine]

Next steps for the AU:

-I have a couple of analysis-type posts to make. I love talking about this fic lol so I have a lot to say still. Included in this will be a review of art symbolism, setting as a character, and some selected real-life cases and research I ran across. I may also talk a little about fire symbolism as well as my fun fire-related words I purposefully scattered around (if you noticed me describe feelings as a spark a lot, it was on purpose lol.) I also may talk about a couple things that didn't end up happening, or did happen but almost didn't.

-This weekend I am going to revisit the fic chapters 8-12 to see if I can add more art to them. I had initially wanted more art pieces throughout the fic but the art would sometimes delay finished chapters for weeks (i have to both draw and color it traditionally, photograph it in good light, and then digitally edit it) so I started worrying less about it. If I do I will post those pieces and retroactively add them in the chapter.

-Speaking of retroactive edits, some earlier chapters of the story on AO3 have some issues with em dashes appearing smaller than they should be. This is corrected in my original document but I never got around to correcting the published chapters (i am always mildly worried the formatting will break lol.) When I do this I will also add cocoabats' cover into the first chapter. I also plan to retroactively edit some of my Fire Finder Math in chapter 3 because I think I made Grian's tower taller than it needs to be/at the wrong elevation. This won't affect the chapter outcome at all I just Need that to be accurate for myself

-I have a great many web weaving materials that I have slowly collected over the months that I would like to mess with again. I have been saving them in a #f tag on my main blog, but I didn't make any except for one because I wanted the full context of the story to be published.

-Going to upload the Letters from the Lookout drabbles into the AO3 series. Hopefully in the future I may add more. Or, I may not. We'll see. I also have a Scar-centric story called "Alpenglow" in my outline. based on its structure it may have multiple chapters, but it will not have any sort of through-line plot. It's selected scenes from his 8 years career as a lookout. I want to write this, but I don't know if it will be or not. With the main fic done I will be releasing my brain to work on other projects/ideas that I didn't want to get distracted by earlier. That doesn't mean it won't happen, it just means that it may not happen on a fast timeline.

[spookyserenades]

Dana, my darling writer... can I be honest with you? Real quick-

I am *not* ready for chapter eighteen in any type of form that ever exist srsly

I don't know what to expect for this chapter

I don't know even less how Y/N is going to deal at this point toward with how Tae appeared with bunch of hickeys and how they relationship (that is hanging by a thread now) is going to work out

Who is our new boy we going to collect now

Whatever is that thing on the Sander's House

I have so much respect for you for being an author of this fic and be able to write these multiple things that are happening (and they are all soo good ) like- is not everyone that can pull out this type of writing really

Bcs if it was me? I would already let god take the rein and just watch bcs I don't have a single flying idea what's about to happen

Love you for that tho

Mood ? anxiety + stress

Hello my dear 💜

AH! I get you, nothing can truly prepare you for updates, especially when I often throw curveballs at you all 💀 BUT I don't think 18 was full of tooooo many surprises hehe.

Ohhhh Tae :( I feel for Y/N and Tae, they're both really terrible at confrontation. Yoongi/Seokjin didn't really shy away from it as much as Tae does, and Y/N has made herself known as someone who isn't very good at it. Therefore, it's tricky for her and Tae to just cut to the chase and be honest with one another. Additionally, Tae seems to not really have a good grasp on his romantic feelings for Y/N yet, so that's another whole can of worms he's gonna have to sort through.

HEHE so next confession is likely gonna happen in Chapter 20 (August). Not gonna reveal who, but I'm sure I'll get theories from you all 💕

The Sanders 'arc' has been tied up in 18! There has been speculation I believe that things were tied up a little too easily... I suppose we'll see! There are more clients waiting for the trio's help in the meantime 👀

AH stop 😭 You're so kind for saying that my love, that means a lot to me! There are a crazy amount of things to keep track of in an OT7 fic, but honestly it's super fun to plan everything out like a spider weaving a web 💜 I'm really glad you like all the little subplots, too, thank you so so much 🥺

Honestly tho saying 'god take the rein' is sooo real 💀 I usually just sit down and write and see what comes out, which is what I'm starting to do for my new vamp fic too heheheheh..... Love you!!!