#like there are the little moments and whatever. but in general i'm so hollow and empty

[chirpingchorus]

I have so much legitimate disdain for anyone who uses ChatGPT at the collegiate level. If you're a kid in high school who just wants to graduate and get out, I can understand that, but if you're in college, you (or your parents) are almost certainly paying enormous sums of money for you to be learning how to think. It's disrespectful to other students who spend hours working on assignments as well as professors who spend hours grading them.

It just sickens me. Everybody does it. The kids on scholastic probation. The kids in the honors program. There's little to no integrity, at least where I'm going to school, and it makes me wonder if I'm more idealistic than I thought, going into higher education and expecting other people my age to want to learn instead of regurgitate. I know college students cheat, but this is a different kind of cheating, and it's more widespread than any other sort I've heard of.

It's not just usage of it in college that's disturbing, though. Thousands of people at this very moment are writing some legitimately important email using ChatGPT. They're messing up details. They're pasting in whatever the machine spits out. Just like students submitting AI-generated papers to their professors, they have no concern for the person on the receiving end of their incomprehensible word mess. Perhaps even more worryingly--perhaps in a new low for the human race--they have no concern for their own humanity. They will submit the thoughts of a language processing model as their own.

While not all AI usage is evil, presenting the words of an AI as your own is terrifying on a fundamental level. The world is about to feel so much more hollow, and some of these people will surely complain about it in twenty, ten, or even five years, but I heavily doubt I'll have any sympathy for them.

[underdark-dreams]

I'm finishing up a Rolan proposal fic for a very patient anon & ended up with this little scene between Rolan and Dammon that I don't think I'll use. Thought I'd post it here as a drabble! 💗

Rings

Rolan commissions a very particular piece for his beloved from the infernal blacksmith. [541 words]

------------------

“Are you sure it’s the right size?”

Rolan turned the smooth metal over in his hand, trying to compare it against his own fingers for reference. The material gleamed luminous and silver-blue even under the shade of Dammon’s open workshop.

“It’ll fit,” Dammon told him with surety. He wiped a hand on his apron and watched with no little pride as Rolan examined his past weeks’ handiwork. “I forged a few pairs of gauntlets for them back in the day. I’d like to think I know a thing or two about Tav’s hands. Professionally,” he hastened to add, perhaps noting the way Rolan’s brow twitched.

“Maybe so, but—”

“I know, I know. Tav deserves perfection.” Dammon gave his placid smile.

“Yes.” A bit chagrined by the obvious strength of his feelings, Rolan made no other response. As he turned the band over again, his eyes caught very fine lettering engraved around the inner surface. He peered closer—the marks were Infernal.

“Ah.” Dammon shifted nervously on his feet. “I hope you don’t mind the addition. It just—came to me.”

“‘Strength in Unity’,” Rolan translated under his breath. He glanced up at Dammon. “The watchwords of Elturel?”

Dammon rubbed the back of his neck in a characteristic gesture, but a shadow passed over his face. “You know, in terms of cities and their mottos…that one always rang a bit hollow to my ear. After everything.” He exchanged a long glance with Rolan. “If anyone deserves to reclaim the words, I thought it ought to be the two of you.”

Rolan stared back down at the ring on his palm. In a rare moment, he found himself rather lost for words. Then he slipped it carefully into the pouch at his belt and began counting out gold pieces.

The smith raised a hand, but Rolan cut him off before he could start. “Dammon, whatever the hells you’re about to say, keep it to yourself. This is fine work, and I’ll be damned if you don’t take the other half of the fee.”

“Couldn’t you consider it a wedding gift? For the two people responsible for getting me to Baldur’s Gate in one piece. Or even,” Dammon proposed hastily, “a reward for letting me work with such rare material.”

“Then keep what’s left over,” Rolan told him. He tucked his coin away as the idea for a compromise sprang to mind. “Make something incredible from it.”

“That—” Dammon’s eyes grew wide for a moment. “That’s quite generous. Do I even want to know how you found such a pure chunk of mithril?”

“We have friends in the Underdark,” Rolan answered tersely. “I may have…funded a small expedition.”

Dammon only gave a low whistle. If anyone could grasp the cost of such an undertaking, it was a blacksmith. Then he extended a calloused hand, and Rolan clasped it in a wordless agreement.

Finding the matter resolved, Rolan turned toward the front gate of the forge. The gleaming ring stored at his belt had introduced a very distracting flurry of butterflies into his stomach.

“Hold on there—” Dammon stooped to fetch something from underneath his work bench. As he straightened, a small hide bag sailed through the air into Rolan’s surprised grasp.

“You’ll be needing the other one.”

[badasgirlfriend]

Stolen Hoodie | Bada Lee Social Media Au

pairings: bada lee x shin nari

prev - next

a/n: AHHHH LOOK AT THE EDIT (banging my head against the door from excitement bc this is the first edit i got for my work LIKE THIS IS HUGE FOR ME) thank you sooooo much @drkbibi you made my day🤍

As the teacher droned on, Nari was struggling to maintain her patience. She wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else.

"I understand," she replied, her tone neutral and her gaze wandering towards the windows beyond. Even though she dreaded the teacher's presence, she forced herself to be polite.

"No you don't understand miss Shin" the teacher hissed making Nari furrow her brows "She punched a boy"

Nari's anger was beginning to boil over, her patience worn thin. "I'm sure you're not suffering from memory, but I have come here on multiple occasions to address this issue. All you've ever said in response has been the hollow promise that something will be done."

"We looked into this matter-"

"But nothing has happened," she continued, her voice dripping with disdain, "If you really looked did something that boy would've stopped but he didn't, the bullying only got worse"

The teacher thinned her lips "Miss Shin I am a teacher, I know better than you. They're just kids, Hana is being dramatic by a few teasings-"

Nari's brow knit together in frustration, unable to believe the teacher's sheer audacity.

"Are you calling her a liar?" Nari hissed, her voice dripping with venom, "How can you dismiss her concerns so easily? She is only a child, struggling with constant teasing and harassment. Yet you would dismiss these blatant acts of bullying as 'just kids being kids'?"

Nari knew this teacher well. One who brushed off the complaints of a less fortunate student, only to pamper to one of high status. If a child from a wealthy background whined, they'd immediately bow at their feet. But if one without means asked for help? They were ignored. With their suffering and pleas brushed off like a fly.

"I don't care if that boy's family contributes generously to this institution. If my sister is going to face punishment, so is he." Nari spat the words out, staring down the teacher with steely conviction.

The teacher scoffed, "Hana has told me about how you raised her, and," she cleared her throat, "that her father is often 'mean'. However, violence is never the answer. I expect better from you, as she is but a child, whose innocence must be protected and preserved. Whatever happens in your home shall remain private and shall not be allowed to influence her. We do not wish for Hana to be easily influenced or swayed by the dynamics within her household"

Nari's fingers were twitching, struggling to maintain her composure. She wasn't sure if the teacher was suggesting that Hana was learning violence from her father or not, but now it seemed clear that was the case. This teacher knew about the situation at home, and yet she still had the audacity to punish Hana for retaliating against her bully.

Nari chuckled coldly "you little bi-"

"Nini" a soft voice stopped her from showing the teacher her place

Nari's eyes softened as she saw her younger sister standing behind the teacher, her messy pigtails and crooked bow tying her heart in knots. Her bag was over her shoulder, ready to go, and her smile was as charming as ever, as if the situation was nothing more than a passing moment of joy.

"Consider yourself lucky my sister arrived, because this would have ended quite differently otherwise," she threatened, and the teacher widened her eyes in shock.

"But don't worry," Nari continued, "I'll return."

With that, she turned on her heel and grabbed her sister's hand, the two sister's making their way out of the school. Their footsteps echoing through the halls, fading as they left the building, the teacher left speechless in their wake.

Nari stopped and crouched down to be at her sister's level. She gently took her sister's face in her hands, staring into her eyes with understanding.

Nari's expression softened as tears threatened to fall, but she held them back, wanting to remain strong for her sister. She gently caressed Hana's hair in a gesture of affection, trying to comfort her.

"Nini are you mad at me?" Hana asked "He was being mean"

"Of course not," Nari reassured her sister, "Just next time, don't punch him. Come and tell me instead, alright? I'll handle everything."

"Won't you get in trouble for that?" her sister asked, a frown crossing her face. "Every time you help me, dad becomes angry and is mean to you."

Nari's heart ached as she saw her younger sister so worried. She was barely a child herself, her worries and fears too big for her small shoulders to bear. But despite her age, her worries were as real as anyone else's.

"Don't worry about me," Nari whispered, wrapping her arms around Hana in a warm embrace. She pressed a gentle kiss against Hana's temple

"This time will be different, I promise," Nari said, her voice cracking slightly as she fought back tears. "I won't let dad decide what's right and wrong, and you'll always have me on your side. I'll protect you, no matter what."

With that, Nari gently pulled away and looked into Hana's eyes, hoping to reassure her.

A warm smile lit up Hana's face as Nari grabbed her hand and they began to walk. Taking out her phone, Nari checked the time, letting out a curse when she saw that she was really late. She had to send a message to Bada. However, just as she was about to do so, her phone suddenly died.

"Fuck" Nari muttered and turned to Hana "We need to meet up with a friend of mine so I can give her something," Nari told her sister.

But Hana's gaze was elsewhere. When Nari followed her eyes, she saw a familiar man approaching their direction.

Nari felt a sense of familiarity when she saw this man, as if she had seen him before. But her memory was hazy, clouded by her other worries and concerns.

"Hey Nari," the man said, stopping in front of them.

Hana looked at her sister with confusion, and Nari looked back at her with a similar expression.

"Uh, hi?" Nari said, her voice tinged with confusion. "Sorry, who are you?"

The man's smile fell slightly, but he managed to hold it.

"Jake. Jake Sim. Do you remember me?" He asked, and a pang of recognition shot through Nari as the name finally clicked in her head.

"Oh. Right. The Twitter guy," she said, rolling her eyes. "What do you want?"

"My mom works here so I came to drop something for her. I saw you and wanted to say hi" he paused "and ask you something"

"Hana, can you go on over there and sit?" Nari asked, and her sister complied, walking a safe distance away from the two adults' conversation, but not so far away that she couldn't hear them.

"What do you want?" Nari asked Jake, her tone hard and dry. She knew what he was gonna ask, his comments under her tweets told her enough

Jake grinned, placing his hand on his neck. "I sent you a message, but you must not've seen it."

Nari groaned inwardly, this man can't take a hint

"I wanted to ask if you're free this week, do you want to hang out?" He asked, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes "Like on a date"

"Look, I've seen your messages, and I ignored you," she said with a calmness that belied an seething, underlying frustration.

"I've made things perfectly clear by never replying to you. That obviously means I'm not interested. It couldn't be any more evident."

"But that doesn't mean we can't try," he persisted. He was clearly not going to back down

Nari finally had had enough when he grabbed her hand. "Man, back off." She hissed, with mounting annoyance. "I don't even like men. I'm done with this bullshit."

"You don't?" He asked, a hint of confusion in his tone.

"I thought it was obvious," Nari said, rolling her eyes with a heavy sigh.

"Don't let that ruin the fun of anything with me," Jake said with a smile, oblivious to her discomfort.

Nari rolled her eyes again, feeling her anger growing. Enough. She began to walk away, dragging Hana by the hand, and picking up her bag along the way. She was done with his bullshit. She was tired of dealing with such clueless men.

Now all she needed to do was go faster to the place she agreed to meet with Bada, hoping she will still be there

Nerves got to Bada, who kept nervously tapping her feet. This annoyed an elderly woman seated next to her, but Bada didn't seem to mind.

No matter how hard she tried, Bada couldn't stop her mind from drifting back to the brunette with the short hair. She wondered why her heart was beating so fast. Just a week ago, she couldn't even stand the woman. Now everything about her intrigued her.

She checked the time, realizing she was a full 10 minutes late to the meet-up. She quickly sent Nari a message asking for her whereabouts.

Yet, her many messages were no use. Nari still did not reply. As time progressed, Bada grew more and more annoyed. The longer it went, the more she felt hurt. It would have been better to at least receive some sort of text from Nari, letting her know why she had not arrived yet, but Bada had recieved none.

Just as Bada was about to call Tatter, a notification caught her attention. With a click, she opened it, only to be met with a paragraph that left her feeling upset.

She scoffed, after locking her phone. Both of her emotions of hurt and anger were evident. While Bada waited for her for almost an hour, Nari was off, having fun with some man. She was mad, and most importantly she was upset. Bada would not lie to herself. She knew deep inside her that her feelings for Nari had grown more than the slightest bit. So, seeing that post hurt her more than she could have ever imagined.

She felt stupid for thinking that Nari's flirting carried any truth, and that she meant it in some way. In fact, Nari often flirted with many other people, so Bada was naive for thinking that she meant it.

Kicking the rock before her in anger, she rose from her seat and started walking away. The sound of her phone drew her attention. Still annoyed, she decided to see what it was. But, when she saw the message, she froze. Just by a single letter in the contact name, she knew who this was. Yeri, a name she was not expecting to see right now. Her heart sank. She had thought everything was over, but seeing her name on her phone screen made her stomach drop.

[immajustvibehere]

Spark (8/8)

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader - Enemies to Lovers

Chapter 8 summary: Found and taken in by the Natives, Arthur is walking a fine line of living and dying. In the grip of illness and fever, he often imagines seeing you by his side.

This is a long chapter, so I gave it sub-headings. Easier to manage if you can't read it in one go :)

link to my masterlist

chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven

7500 words, +30 minutes reading time

I. The Downfall of the Gang

A prevailing notion circulated in the gang that you and Molly shared culpability for the Pinkertons’ decent upon Lagras. They nearly razed the settlement to the ground, and the frustration about the new location of camp being found out so soon certainly didn’t help to improve the general mood. With you gone, there was no way you could justify yourself and nobody was keen on defending you either, though some people were convinced of your innocence either way. Notably, Abigail, though somewhat resenting you for having left, given Jack’s affinity for you and John’s confinement, was sure you wouldn't send the agency to shoot at them. Artur knew that you wouldn't do such a thing, as you had absolutely no reason to. Many people in the gang knew that it was way likelier that the Pinkertons picked up the trail from some of the boys coming back from Guarma, considering the gang was worth almost nothing without its leader anyway.

Dutch readily agreed that it must have been you, his main intention probably being to silence Micah, whose ceaseless prattle on the matter had grown unbearable. Micah spit phrases like: "She probably thought that she could get rid of us so we wouldn't go after her for the betrayal."

This went too far, even for Dutch’s taste, who was aware that they had other battles to fight. It was useless to hunt either you or Molly down and just a waste of resources and guns that were scare to begin with.

Arthur was distraught that you were gone. When he rode out with Charles, to search for a new camping spot up North, Charles handed Arthur the gun that he had borrowed you. The gesture resonated with a finality surpassing all preceding farewells…though there hadn’t even been proper good-byes.

"She uhm...she said anything? 'bout where she's headed?", Arthur asked as he let the gun slip into his saddle bag.

"I'm sorry", Charles shook his head, "She was a great help when we moved camp, but she disappeared soon after. She gave me the gun and told me to hand it back to you if I get the chance. You know, we weren't even sure if you had survived."

And the topic was left at that. The gang moved to Beaver's Hollow and Arthur felt a sickness nagging on his body. He started boiling with rage, every time your name was mentioned in a negative sense. Mostly by Dutch and Micah. Soon after, Bill started to complain about you too. Arthur would be lying if he told someone that he wasn't looking for you. It wasn't an active search, but whenever he was in town, he'd ask a few men at the bar if they had seen a woman of your description. Though the answers were barely trustworthy most of the time.

At the saloon in Annesburg, he spoke to a drunk man, who, as answer to your description mumbled a "fierce little creature" before he fell asleep on the table. This was the best lead Arthur had, and it wasn't nearly enough. He was roaming the country, avoiding collecting the debts, suffering under how sluggish his body was willing to comply to what he wanted it to do.

The first time Arthur was happy you had left, is when the doctor had told him, that he had tuberculosis. Until then, Arthur had mixed feelings. He appreciated that you left the gang to save yourself, because it took no genius to understand that whatever had bound the gang together was a thin thread that threatened to snap any moment. When he saw how Molly ended, however miserable he felt for her, he had been glad it wasn't you that had come back to die in the dirt. And still he had harboured feelings of resentment for you. Leaving without a word, without showing yourself ever again, when on that ride back from Guarma to Shady Bell he had hoped for you to be there, for some hug or any sort of gentle sign that would have soothed his aching soul and body. He realized soon that he was foolish to hope for that. And that Micah was right to accuse him of having become soft, if your gentle hands was all he could think of, despite your hands being mostly anything but gentle.

But as he sat outside camp, wheezing and wiping the blood off his lips that he had coughed up, he was glad you weren't here. Whatever urges he had to be comforted, to see something else but a bitter and angry face, the feelings of having failed and paying for his sins was the stronger force. He deserved it, after all. And he shouldn’t wish for comfort.  

-

He, as many others, tried to avoid camp as often as possible. In those two weeks, when the hostility between him and Dutch was especially high, because he and Sadie had rescued John from prison, he spent most of the days roaming the country and helping strangers. It wasn't that those trips took his mind off you, quite the contrary.

It was when he was out fishing with Hamish, a veteran with an impulsive horse, that he mentioned you for the first time to anyone that wasn't Charles or Mary-Beth (not counting Jack, who regularly asked where you where and why you had gone).

"Ya know. There's this girl...we went fishing a while ago and she couldn't deal with the waiting."

Hamish felt that it was dangerous territory, so he considered Arthur's pondering face for a while before he finally said: "You should take her here sometime. While we wait for the fish to bite, I can tell her stories so interesting, she' gonna hope that nothing bites."

Arthur chuckled sadly and shook his head: "She left, 'm afraid. She was right to do so. Ain't especially lucky to be around me."

As if the universe heard those words, Hamish was pulled into the water only moments after by the gigantic Pike they were after. It gave him and Arthur something to laugh in the aftermath.

-

"I'll draw them away from you! Go!", Arthur yelled, desperate pulling the reigns of his horse as John dismounted his.

"Come with me", John implored, "We can make it out of here!"

But Arthur understood he couldn't. The train heist only hours before and Abigail’s rescue had drained his strength. His body was tired, no, it was surrendering. He knew he couldn’t keep up the pace. His horse was his only support now, if he abandoned it, his legs would betray him. It wasn't just the tiredness of his limbs, he felt nauseous, sick, the sweat was on his forehead, causing his hat to cling uncomfortably.

"No. I pushed all I can”, Arthur’s voice was strained, “I'll buy ya some time, keep them off your back a while longer, you run and join Abigail and Jack."

"You're my brother!"

"I know", and with those words said, the brothers turned their backs to each other, John fleeing up the mountain, Arthur desperate circling the small area with his horse, firing round after round until he had shot himself a path of escape. The horse’s pained bucking under the impact of a bullet seared through Arthur’s heart, yet he urged it on. The loyal animal complied, carrying its master through thicket and woods as bullets whizzed past. Finally, it collapsed, half of its heavy body falling on Arthur who had ungraciously been thrown off.

The head of the horse was weirdly twisted, but Arthur still heard its heavy breaths. That aside, it was silent in the forest. Killing it would be the noble thing to do. But his vision was already blurred when his hands crept to his gun that was long out of bullets. And before he realized that it was silent in the forest and he had managed to shake the Pinkerton’s, Arthur closed his eyes, not being able to fight the exhaustion any longer.  

He was dead. Or dying, at least, because every time he gained consciousness, his whole body felt like it was on fire. With immense effort, he pried his eyes open, only to be greeted by a hazy image, his pounding headache blurring his surroundings. Arthur struggled against his own lethargy, he wanted to gain control of his body again. Neither of his limbs moved, no matter the effort he was putting into it. His eyes wouldn’t focus, his chest no rise enough for a proper breath. Every time however, without failure, weariness washed over him and unconsciousness reclaimed him before he could even form a thought about the state he was in. It was a cruel cycle.

When Arthur woke up for the third, maybe fourth time – there was no way of keeping count of those seconds of consciousness – he thought only one thing: Namely, that if that was dying, he hoped it would go a little quicker.

At some point, Arthur stirred awake. He felt stronger than before and finally had enough wits to take in some of his surroundings. It was nighttime, he perceived the nocturnal chorus of crickets. His attempt to open his eyes was met with a revelation, his vision, though fatigued, offered him a somewhat clear image. It was exhausting to look; he barely blinked a few times. He was in a tent, or something of that sort, he noticed. And it rocked around, like a boat or a waggon…or maybe he was just feeling dizzy. And when he managed to move his head just a little, to glared to the side, there were you. For a second, Arthur thought nothing. Then he concluded that he must be dreaming or was indeed dead and this was some funny way to pay for his sins. He closed his eyes. His arms felt too heavy, he wouldn't be able to rub his eyes or pinch his nose in concentration. But he simply opened them again. And the image of you was gone. So was Arthur's consciousness, a few moments later.

II. The Recovery

Over the next couple of days, Arthur would wake up from time to time. Sometimes seeing you, sometimes faces of women he didn't recognize. Dark skin and dark hair, Indians, he thought. Then he'd have nightmares that sometimes took his breath away and he'd wake up, feeling like a heavy weight was crushing his chest. And there would be someone - you, another woman, some strange man - pressing wet rags to his face and he wasn't strong enough to complain about it. To tell them to stop because it kept waking him up from dying, from sleeping, from unconsciousness. Whatever that black void was he'd fall in, but he much preferred it because then his body didn't hurt so much.

"You're going to be alright, mister."

Arthur opened his eye to look into the face of a dark-skinned woman. Braids falling from her head that was dangling right onto his face. There was the wet rag again, but it didn't feel so crushing this time.

Finally, his vision was…almost clear.

It was she who explained that he had collapsed and now was with Rains Fall’s people, as they were heading North to escape. The women that took care of him, Arthur caught glimpses of three different faces and though his headache was mostly gone, a persistent cloudiness lingered over his senses. Maybe it was because he sometimes seemed so confused or because he still lacked some control over when he fell asleep out of exhaustion, but when they talked to him, it was always very vague.

"Your friend will return soon. He's securing the perimeter, but he'll be back in a day or two", one of the women explained to him. They must mean Charles, he was certain. But when he wanted to ask, he found that it was hard forming words. His throat was parched and the attempt to speak yielded only a hoarse croak. A sympathetic smile from the woman conveyed understanding, at least.

….

You had sat at his side for four hours. It was late at night, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave his side. You had been running errands the last couple of days and had missed him waking up. Well, waking up without fever and therefore capable of forming thoughts. Tonight, he was restless, dreaming maybe.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and grabbed your wrist. His hand was clammy, still remnants of his sickness and probably his latest nightmare, but this time – for the first time ever – he was fully awake.

"It's okay, I'm right here", you reassured him.

Arthur simply stared at you like you were a ghost. Then his eyes narrowed to one of his signature contemptuous stares. It was a terrifying expression that you had seen a couple of times before. His nose would scrunch in disdain and his facial muscles were coiled with tension – a sign of irritation. In a firefight, it marked the precipice of drawing his gun; in a brawl, it forewarned of the impending launch of his first punch.

"Yer real" Arthur stated, his assertion hung in the air. His voice was low and quiet. It sounded like he needed something to drink, something to oil up his throat that has dried up from weeks of not using it.

"Unfortunately so, yeah", you said. Your heart sped up. He was awake. Finally. After all those days of not knowing if he'd make it, he was okay. Far from fit or fully recovered, but he wasn't dying no more. The thought made your eyes wet and forget about Arthur's sceptical glance.

Arthur blinked slowly. Those weren't dreams. They never had been. You had been there all this time.

Arthur closed his eyes again without saying something. His hand slipped from your wrist and onto his chest. He didn't want to talk, no, he didn't even want to see you right now. A swell of emotions came over him and he wasn't sure how to feel about your presence. For his inner turmoil, he kept silent on the outside, giving you the impression that he had dozed off again.

Eventually, he really fell asleep. Though when he awoke and pled for water before even opening his eyes, it was you who led a bowl to his lips. Whenever he woke up, you would be there, ready to jump at his commands. You didn't speak about why you were here or where you had been. Nothing of that matter. Nothing about Dutch or Micah or little Jack. It was always just handing him water or soup or helping him change his clothes.

Two days later, Charles showed up with a warm: "Welcome back, brother." It was he who explained what had happened. That two Indians had found him unconscious, buried under his horse. That his leg had been bruised from the impact, and he was weak, feverish and on the brink of death. It was an intricate matter, caring for him while heading North with the tribe and he admitted that only after one day with him under their care, Charles had seriously considered staying behind and caring for him. It had slowed down the group that much. Then they ran into you, simply sitting on your horse and watching the caravan of people go, before catching Charles' eye.

Arthur remained conflicted when Charles broached the topic of you. This inner struggle was not lost on Charles, keen observer that he has always been.

"She took good care of you. Without her, your recovery might have been in doubt."

And as this didn't seem to do the trick, he added…

"She sat with you every night. Washed you, made sure you had everything you needed. Even though Rains Fall disagreed, she stole a waggon so you had a comfortable place to get better.”

“She had left, Charles…”, Arthur croaked. You leaving the gang behind had left him with mixed feelings. He had worked through them before and had arrived at the conclusion that it was better for you, and still…seeing you here, healthy and restless, he regretted not having you there at the end. You could have been of great assistance. Could have prevented Abigail from being taken or made John’s prison break easier. Hell, he might have had more fun killing the last of the O’Driscoll’s if you had been by his side. The prospect of your sudden absence when he might have required your presence left a bitter aftertaste in his mind.  

“Don’t blame her for that. She had no obligation to stay, she was only with us for little more than a month at this time and she could tell that it was coming to an end”, Charles said.

Arthur thought what might have happened if you had been there at the stand-off. The notion of having another ally by his side, countering the overpowering presence of Bill, Javier, Micah and his two traitorous cronies, weighed heavily on his mind Yet, this reverie crumbled upon realization – there was the cruel possibility that instead of Miss Grimshaw, you would have found your demise. Or considering your proclivity for action over passivity, you might have opened fire earlier and would have caused an even worse outcome. Yes, maybe your absence had been the better.

“She rode hours through rain to fetch you a doctor”, Charles went on as he saw Arthur’s thoughts wander, “She found a nice man with a waggon. The doctor said he knew you and that you helped him one time in Rhodes.”

That put a little smile on Arthur’s lips, because he remembered the Doctor well. He was talking all funny and had had his waggon stolen. “Yeah”, Arthur answered as a sign of recognition.

Even Charles didn’t know what more to say, so he put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, before he left him alone.

The group had settled down near a creek. You had been on the move for a while now, and food supplies were running low, so they had decided to camp here for a couple of days, until hunting and gathering had provided enough resources to continue the travel. It was then that Arthur left his little nest that had been made for him. A simple waggon really, with some linen span across it to shield him from the weather. Sitting up was exhausting, but he managed to more or less crawl to the opening, sitting there and letting his legs dangle from the waggon. Everyone was working. The horses were grazing, a couple of kids were running around. It wasn’t difficult to spot you, chopping some wood and carrying it to the fire. That’s when you caught Arthur’s eye and approached him.

Seeing him out of “bed” put a big smile on your face.

“Why even bother?”, Arthur asked when you had reached him, jumping up the waggon to sit next to him. “Should’ve shot me when they found me. Tuberculosis can’t be healed, as far as I’ve heard.”

“Tuberculosis? What are you talking about?”, you looked at Arthur curiously. He stared back in silence, furrowing his eyebrows.

"It's what I've got", Arthur explained, a little sceptical as if your gaze alone had made him unsure of the diagnosis.

"You don't have tuberculosis. At least, the doctor we consulted said so", a smile played on your lips. A knowledgeable smile, as if you knew more than him. It was a cheeky smile.  

Arthur didn't believe you.

"Y/n, I was on the brink of death when you found me. I cough up more blood than I ever lost through bullets…taking a deep breath was almost impossible.”

"How's it now though? The breathing...", you asked.

Arthur halted and for the first time since he had regained consciousness, he drew in a deep breath. Then another, and another. It was slightly uncomfortable, as though something was constricting his lungs and made it harder for him to let air in, but it didn't hurt. It was only after the fourth big breath that a slight cough stirred from within. But it didn't ripple his airpipe, bringing red fluid onto his lips. It almost tickled. It reminded him of the sensation of pressing upon a spot where a bruise had once been, recently faded. It wouldn’t hurt, but it would tickle, and the skin would be terribly sensitive.

"It's...okay I guess", Arthur concluded.

You smiled, satisfied: "You don't have TB. I mean...maybe you do, but Doctor said if you had, it wouldn't have shown so soon and with such vigour. But he did say you had the worst case of pneumonia he had ever seen. We weren't sure you'd make it. But now that you have pulled through the worse", you shrugged, "I'm afraid you'll have to see my ugly face still."

Arthur didn't know what to say. Was he relieved? Happy, even? He didn't know. He was just speechless.

"Doctor said that in case you recover, you'll have to rest a lot. He knew you, by the way. Black fella with a nice-looking waggon. Weird grinder thing on top. Had to help him fix a wheel when I brought him up here. He said you had helped him some time ago, fighting the people who had stolen his waggon. And then he said you wouldn't be fighting anyone for a while, even when you are back on your feet. You need to rest for months, fresh air,...and especially, seeing that you have lost about half your weight, lots of good food. No smoking, of course."

Arthur’s chuckle rippled through the air as he started to grasp the situation. “That’s quite the relief”, he murmured, chuckled lightly as he finally started to grasp the whole situation: “That’s good news.”

“What? That you look like skin and bones?”, you teased, bumping your shoulder into his.

“No. That I’ll get to see your ugly face for some time longer”, he bumped back, stronger than you had and almost knocking you into the edge of the waggon. You hadn’t been so relieved for a long time. You felt something thick in your throat and tears gathered at the corners of your eyes.

“Missed ya, ya know”, you said quickly before a sob could work its way up.

“I missed ya too”, Arthur looked at you. He noticed the wet eyes and scrunched his nose immediately: “You gone soft while I was out? You crying ‘cause of me?”

The teasing tone alone was so friendly and welcome, it cheered you up even more.

“You ain’t worth crying over, Mr. Morgan”, you lied.

“Damn right I’m not”, he said. He let his eyes roam around the camp again. It felt familiar. The image or Horseshoe Overlook came to him, but this was different, of course. Or was it?

“You hungry?”, you asked.

“Starving. If ya can offer something else but soup”, Arthur quickly added. He only had eaten soup the last days. It was the only meal which didn’t require chewing and wouldn’t immediately choke him in his half-conscious state. This time, you brought him a small portion of stew. Not comparable to the stew Mr. Pearson had cooked. The small pieces of meat that you had granted him in his portion were as soft as they possibly could be, almost melting in his mouth.

“Slow down, god damn it”, you warned him.

“Yes, ma’am”, Arthur quietly mumbled. It was hard to slow down, but he knew he had to, since this was the first time he ate properly in – he later was being told – 13 days.

In the evening, you approached him again. Arthur was lying in his bed, half-recumbent with his journal on his lap. It was closed, Arthur was merely thinking. He had flipped through some entries before, but now he enjoyed being idle and watching everyone getting ready for the night.

“Arthur”, you knocked at the wood before appearing in his field of vision, “got something for you. I almost forgot, I had it stored away.”

You climbed on the waggon and put down a gunnysack. You carefully spilled its contents onto the floor. Arthur recognizes the round glass with the flower first. Then the picture of his mother. The picture of him and Mary. The shot of his father, though big chunks of the little picture were charcoaled and burnt, he only recognized it because he had looked at it so often. Two shirts, one pair of pants and an old belt that he hadn’t used in a while.

“That’s all that was really left, I’m afraid”, you said. He didn’t need to ask, he understood. You had gone back to where they had last camped and had rummaged through what was left after the fire to store it for him.

“Why did you…?”, Arthur started, picking up the picture of his mother.

“I…don’t know. I never had many belongings to my name, but those I had, meant much to me. Figured you feel the same”, you shrugged. Then a cheeky smile appeared on your lips: “Thought it would be nice to bury you with them if you didn’t make it.”

Arthur clicked his tongue. “It was stupid to go there. Might have been dangerous.”

“Felt worth it for me, I guess”, you said.

After a pause, Arthur thanked you. You wished him a good night at let him be. As soon as your frame vanished from the little field of view that the open canvas space granted him, he opened his journal again. He pulled out Mary’s last letter to him. Not reading the neatly written words again, he simply turned the envelope upside down, until the ring fell into his hand.

…

It took two more days before Arthur was strong enough to walk around and be on his feet for more than ten minutes at a time. But he felt fine enough to take a bath in the creek and shave. It was shocking to see his cheeks that have sunken quite a bit due to the weight loss, but Arthur’s appetite was as good as ever, so you didn’t worry about it too much.

Most of the day he spent by sitting in the shade and observing the people. Mostly you, if he was being honest. You played with the kids, helped wherever another hand was needed.

He was trying to get up from his little patch under a tree when Rains Fall approached him. Arthur hadn’t encountered him yet, he had been busy with arranging and managing the move. The last time Arthur had seen him, he had delivered him his dying son.

“How are you, Mr. Morgan?”, Rains Fall’s voice was as gentle as ever.

“Feeling much better now. I can’t thank you enough for taking me in”, Arthur said.

“After all you have done for us, it is I who must thank you”, Rain Falls smiled slightly. Silence ensued between the two men before Rains Fall spoke again, “I recall our conversation when you were my company on the ride up the mountain. You said that some people in your gang still had a chance for a good live and that you wanted to give them that.”

“Yeah”, Arthur said, his eyes fixed on you. You were brushing some horse in the distance.

“What’s with her?”, Rains Fall asked, following Arthur’s gaze, “I heard she took excellent care of you. Charles told me she’s a fierce spirit when cornered, but she seems tame and gentle. I can see that you care for her deeply too.”

“Suppose I do”, Arthur answered, “I’m not sure if that’s what she wants.”

“There are always some uncertainties in life, don’t waste too much thought on those that can be resolved with one simple question”, the chief answered. Arthur nodded, as if he understood, though he wasn’t so sure how much of the situation he had actually grasped. The ring that Arthur had picked out of the letter was in his pocket, and he felt it, when Rains Fall spoke those words. When nothing more was said on that matter, Rains Falls sighed: “Tomorrow, we’ll be on the move again. We haven’t covered much ground yet, but I’m certain we’ll make it.”

It was a statement that needed no comment and Arthur watched as the old man walked away.

-

The group barely covered ten miles a day. It was a good pace, nevertheless, for Arthur was on his feet again and tried to make himself useful. He tended to the horses, seeing they are well cared for and rested for the journey. All this time, you were pretty much at his side non-stop.

“You used to say ya don’t need me to do babysitting…but now yer the one watching me like I’m gonna do something stupid the second you lay your eyes off me”, Arthur teased.

“I don’t trust you to do no heavy lifting”, you said with a smile. It was a good opportunity to be close to him and help.

All of a sudden, you had started sleeping in the same waggon as he. Because the one you had used was “needed otherwise”. You sat next to him at night, watching him draw in his journal and often fell asleep way before him. Arthur was unsure if this was a sign that everything was like before, that you still liked him, but he was glad about the closeness again. The second night, he held you. The third night, you fell asleep with your head resting on his chest.

-

“I’m going to leave”, you said. You sat next to Arthur and watched his pencil strokes. They had been shading the horse he had just sketched. The pencil halted and Arthur looked at you.

“What?”

“Day after tomorrow, I’m leaving. I want to head south again. Then west, maybe”, you looked Arthur in the eye. His blue eyes which were warmly illuminated by the oil lamp in the waggon darted around your face. You weren’t teasing or joking, he could tell as much.

“You know I’m not someone who sticks with a group. If this thing goes bad, I’ll feel like I’m responsible”, you offered further explanation.

“Yer gonna head out there alone?”, Arthur asked, his voice strained.

“Was hoping you’d join me, actually”, you swallowed. You had dragged the question out for a while now. You knew that Arthur needed to be somewhat recovered if he was to travel with you, so you had had a good excuse for not asking for a long while. But the last couple of days the anxiety had been eating you from the inside.

Arthur didn’t answer. He watched you; you watched your own hands. As he remained silent, you unwillingly lifted your head to look at him. This was all that Arthur needed. His hand found your chin and lifted it even more, turning it towards him. In the blink of an eye, your lips met. Arthur tasted the tobacco on your lips and figured he missed smoking. Or at least, he missed sharing a cigarette with you.

“I thought you might not like me no more”, Arthur said as the kiss had ended. Both of your faces remained so close, your foreheads touched, and Arthur only needed to whisper the words to make you understand.

“Well, there’s always been lot of nonsense in your brain”, you grinned. You were relieved, because frankly, you had feared the same.

You kissed him again before asking: “Can I take that as a yes?”

“You better”, Arthur breathed, now snaking his hands around you and pulling you into yet another kiss.

III. The Life After

The parting with the Rains Fall and his people unfolded smoothly. Farewells were exchanged without any pressure of time and in good spirits. Charles and Arthur, in particular, enjoyed a more extended exchange of goodbyes compared to their previous parting. Both could go smiling, knowing that the other one would be fine.

Arthur got a spare horse, a young, not entirely tamed one, though Arthur was more than capable of handling it. Your travels back South progressed fast. It took a toll on Arthur, traveling on horseback after he had only been on his feet for a week, but you took care of that with long breaks and early nights. Sometimes, you’d rest for an entire day, also giving the horses some time to recover. You’d take care of food in a nearby town or go hunting, while Arthur watched the little possessions you travelled with. By the time you reached Ambarino, the leaves on the trees had assumed hues of red and brown and the nights were getting colder.

“Shouldn’t we head West?”, Arthur halted his horse. You had just crossed the Grizzlies and had travelled along the Dakota River for a while, before you stirred your horse East. The air was fresh, and Arthur was wrapped in a coat you had bought in a town before crossing the Grizzlies. The sun was still strong enough that the buttons could remain open, but sometimes a strong gush of wind would send a shiver through your spine and remind you that winter would be here soon.

“We can’t continue traveling”, you said. Arthur was exhausted, and so were you.

“So, what do you suggest?”, Arthur rode next to you, stirring his horse into a slow trod next to yours.

“I know a place where we can lay low for the winter”, you said, not explaining further, even though you felt Arthur’s curious gaze. Only when you arrived at O’Creagh’s Run later that day and headed so decidedly for Hamish Sinclair’s cabin, Arthur understood.

“That’s where you wanna live?”, he asked amusedly.

“Nice man lives there. I’m sure he’ll let us stay with him for a while”, you explained. Arthur smiled, but didn’t want to spoil that he knew the old veteran. Hamish was already outside doing repairs on his little boat when he saw you approach.

“Ain’t that a nice surprise!”, Hamish raised his arms, “A visit by two friends at once!”

Now it was your turn to be surprised: “You know each other?!”

“Of course. Arthur Morgan!”, Hamish shook the hand of Arthur as soon as he had dismounted, “You’ve lost some weight my friend, but you look as fine as ever.”

Over hot coffee, Hamish was filled in on the happenings of the last month. When you asked to stay at his place for a while, Hamish was delighted. Almost immediately, you started to build another bed, because it was agreed upon that Arthur would need something more comfortable to sleep on. You would be fine with the floor in front of the fireplace for now and Hamish would continue to sleep in his bed.

It worked remarkably well. The three of you were rather quiet and when something needed to be done, it was done sooner rather than later. Arthur fished most of the time, you were out hunting with Hamish. Hamish would teach you to cook some meals, because, as he put it “A man that has lived alone for such a long time, knows his cooking spoon”, and you’d run errands in town, if something needed to be fetched. The fall of the Van der Linde Gang was still comparably recent, so the posters were still all about and to risk Arthur being seen, wasn’t a risk anyone was willing to take.

As idyllic as most of the days passed, one would think that there weren’t any struggles or that you spent your days hunting and selling pelts. But you would have never been able to sell enough pelts to support three adults, so sometimes, you’d go out and rob a stage or some rich looking traveller. You told Arthur but kept quiet in front of Hamish.

The days became shorter and the chill of winter settled in, Arthur’s recovery progressed steadily. He started to put on some more weight and longer walks or chopping wood didn’t leave him struggling for air any longer. Hamish would sometimes go out for a whole day, granting the two of you precious moments of solitude and intimacy.

In December, Hamish announced he’d be gone for a few days, visiting a cousin in Valentine. He’d be back for Christmas Day, he promised. Arthur and you considered the possibility that Hamish’ cousin was a fabrication, a ruse to give the two of you some more time alone. Nevertheless, you appreciated the gesture wholeheartedly.

Snow had fallen and the fireplace had been ceaselessly crackling in the past few days. So, the hut remained comfortably warm. In Hamish’ absence, you shared Arthur’s bed. Nestled against his chest, you traced circles through the dark patch of hair just below his navel. The only sounds to be heard were the steady crackling of the fire and the hoot of an owl nestled in a nearby tree.

“Ya mean a lot to me, y/n”, Arthur’s words slipped out so unexpectedly that you sat up and looked at him with surprise and suspicion. You were well aware of his feelings. After all, he had demonstrated as much just half an hour ago, in that very bed.

“Yer talking strange”, you remarked and raised an eyebrow.

“I love you”, Arthur said, his tone carrying an unusual weight.

“And…I love you too”, you replied slowly. This wasn’t the first time you had said that to each other, but the manner in which Arthur said it felt different. Arthur gave you a look that was so full of uncertainty and self-depreciation for himself, you lightly slapped him on his bare shoulder.

“What is going on? Did I do something wrong?”, you asked. You even raised the blanket to check if this was a new sort of foreplay that he was trying because he was ready for the second round. It was also an attempt to lift the mood, because the tension of the situation started to prickle your skin.

“Ain’t nothing wrong. I just gotta ask ya something and it ain’t easy”, Arthur complained. sitting up straight.

“Yes. I’m sorry Arthur, but the Gingerbread you baked yesterday is inedible”, you joked. You and Arthur had tried to make some gingerbread yesterday and because you hadn’t felt like baking, he had taken control of the matter. The result was…lacking, to say the least. You had lied that it looked and tasted alright, but you had been sure that by the disgusted face you had made it was clear that it had to disappear before Hamish came back and threw them out for dishonouring his kitchen.

“That’s not it and…”, Arthur looked at you funny, “It wasn’t that bad.” You smiled at him sympathetically.

“I just…god damn it, woman”, Arthur rearranged his sitting position. The he got up and slipped into his pants and shirt. He was somewhat angry, irritated maybe. Or nervous? You watched him confused.

Arthur was still fastening his pants when his voice, low and hesitant, reached your ears: “I just wanted you to know that I love ya…”

You nodded as if it was silly to suggest otherwise. With Arthur’s warmth now absent from your side, your body was cooling down and you pulled the blanked further up. And then Arthur caught you completely off guard because he knelt down besides the bed. His fingers swiftly plunged into his pockets and retrieved a ring.

“I was wondering if ya might wanna marry me”, Arthur voice was firm. He didn’t want to give the impression that he was in any doubt that he wants to spend the rest of the time with you. He was fully aware that he wasn’t the youngest anymore and that the sickness had marked him significantly. Since recovering, he had gained back most of the weight, yet ther were times when his muscles reminded him of their limitations, failing him when he attempted tasks that were once effortless.

You stared at him in disbelief, a thousand thoughts running through your head. When Arthur opened his mouth again, you were afraid that you had taken too long to answer.

“I thought it was too late for me to marry someone. I’m old. And unlovable, mostly”, Arthur chuckled warmly, “If two people ain’t too big of a group for you…” Arthur added mumbling ‘maybe three or four at some point’ before continuing, “I’d want ya to know that I plan to stick with you. Yer still young, so I understand if yer don’t want to-“

“Yes.”

Arthur shut up at looked at you. Was that a yes to “not wanting to marry”? Arthur looked like a kicked puppy for a moment, before you cleared his confusion: “Yes, I want to marry you, you dumbass.”

The ring slipped on seamlessly. The Arthur picked you up, naked as you were and hugged you lovingly. You squealed because of the cold air.  

“Are we telling Hamish?”

Arthur mumbled the response into the crook of your neck which he was peppering with kisses: “If ya want. That enough of a Christmas present for him?”

You hit Arthur’s back: “Hell no! The man lets us live in his home. I was thinking about getting him a new rifle.”

Arthur set you down and you gathered your clothes, putting them on slowly, as Arthur was taking his time admiring you.

“Put some money back”, you grinned mischievously, “It was also meant for buying you a present. But I suppose that being my husband is good enough.”

“Oh you!”, Arthur growled and scooped you up, throwing you over his shoulder. For all the strength he had lost, he was still strong enough to do that. Barefooted, Arthur stamped out of the cabin. “Give me one reason to not throw you into the lake!”, he teased and approached the jetty. It wasn’t frozen yet entirely, but the water was icy cold and black.

“I’m your wife!”

“Not yet you ain’t!”, Arthur made a motion that made you shriek, but he only feinted to throw you in, “besides, that is no valid reason.”

“I’ll kill you, if you do!”, now you tried to break free, but Arthur’s grip was firm.

“Ohh. That’s more like it. Though I think you love me too much for that.”

“Many wives kill their husbands!”, you screamed.

“I could drown ya first, ya know”, Arthur teased and swirled around, so you faced the black water.

“You’ll never find out where I stashed the money and won’t afford a present for Hamish!”, you finally said.

“That’s true”, with that, Arthur let you down. As soon as your bare feet touched the snow, you darted inside, shivering violently in front of the fireplace.

Arthur soon followed, having more of a quieter complexion. He closed the door behind him, and the warm and loving atmosphere of the cabin was restored. In many ways, Arthur saw you as an equal. You were just as good as a shot as he was, just as fast when it came to running or riding. There was no need to escape his old live, because you were an outlaw just like him. You didn’t mind if life meant running away from the law. He didn’t need to tread lightly with you. You could take criticism; a discussion or whatever life threw at you. And yet, he found your movements graceful, gentle. Most of the time, at least. Arthur smiled at the thought. When your opponent was a bigger man and it would come to close ranged fighting, you became sloppy and angry, but with a gun you were the definition of accuracy and grace.

“Hello?”, you looked at Arthur wit tilted head, drawing his attention back from his reverie, “Where have you wandered off to?” His daydreams had lasted so long, he had barely noticed that you had dressed yourself.

“Jus’ dreamin’ about my future wife, ‘s all”, Arthur grinned sheepishly. He extended his arms invitingly, and you moved closer, nestling into his embrace.  

“Don’t start expecting things I’m not capable”, you said.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know?! Maybe I want my husband to be capable of baking proper gingerbread for Christmas and then you come along and-“, Arthur interrupted you by poking you into the side and making you squeal.

“You do it better then!”, he challenged.

“I suppose I will!”, you grinned back, heading for the little stove, “I bet mine are at least two times more…edible than your sorry experiment.”

“What are we betting? A kiss, Mrs. Morgan?”, Arthur said slimily, his arms crossed and watching you. The name made you feel warm and happy. For all the times you’d been mistaken as a Bell, you like that name way more. But for old time’s sake, you turned around and looked at the man you love.

“Your life, Morgan!”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

taglist: @xclovers @photo1030 @cowboydisaster @stilinskiwitch @globetrotter28 @unbotheredbeeeee @eyelovie @ashjbu @lovrgirlsstuff @how-the-heck-would-i-know @j4llyf7sh @urfavjanalein @thatonestrangebird @nirvanaaaonly

[dailydegurechaff]

challenge: hollow knight bug tanya

vessel tanya

my thoughts got long. warning under the read more for Hollow Knight spoilers.

ok listen listen, while i have you i need to implant an idea here

This oversimplifies both character’s motivations and stories a bit but like. do you see what im cooking. the vibes are THERE

like. Being X wants to bring Salaryman to his lowest to see if that suffering will make him a believer. Salaryman's values revolve entirely around his autonomy & free will. so an au where being x reincarnates Salaryman/Tanya into Hallownest as a Vessel, a creature that is meant to have no agency and is generally very doomed

so we'd see HK AU!Tanya (Bugurechaff if you will) trying to survive in this new world, but also slowly learning the lore of this world and what's happened to it. and I think over time, as she discovers who the Radiance is/was, she'd probably realize the similarities between Radiance and Being X and go "Hey wait a damn minute." My thought is she'd have a classic Tanya Misunderstanding Moment and misconstrue the two of them as one entity. Whether this fills her with vengeful rage and she takes it upon herself to destroy the Radiance, thinking Rad is Being X, I'm not sure. I could potentially see it.

some other vague ideas

Tanya's whole shtick is that she wants to achieve a comfortable, safe life where she's free to do whatever she wants. I genuinely believe that after somehow escaping the Birthplace, fighting through the ruins of Hallownest, and eventually coming across the town of Dirtmouth, she'd gladly end her adventure there. Think about it. Dirtmouth is safe, nothing really substantial goes on up there. There's no point for her to go back into the depths if she can just live peacefully there without any problems. There is nothing to stop her from doing this. Like, does she need the Geo to buy a house? No point, the whole town is virtually abandoned, just pick a house and live in it. Elderbug actually says this about Iselda moving in.

I think the point I’m trying to get at here is that if the story will let her, Tanya would probably get complacent. Which means that we'd probably need to find a reason to force her to act if we want her story to go farther than just 'makes it to Dirtmouth, the end' Do you think she'd get bored eventually? What is there to do? As said previously, nothing really goes on there, and there are very few permanent residents.

One way I feel like Tanya could be pushed is in regards to her social motivations. Like. I feel like she needs to be seen as a respected, productive member of society in order to feel fulfilled. I don't think she could get that in Dirtmouth, so the question is: Is this desire enough to overcome her desire for safety?

I think motivating Tanya to get moving and back to exploring (and therefore learning about Hallownest & by extension the Radiance) could be more easily accomplished by giving her companions who drag her outside of her comfort zone. So like. Let's drag more YS characters into HK.

In my head I have the mental image of tiny little vessel Tanya rescuing some other travelers on her way to find a safe place to settle. These travelers being Bug!203rd Battalion (Visha, Weiss, Koenig, Neumann). And she just absolutely destroys whatever was endangering them. And they're so impressed by her they just end up following her like lost puppies.

And like. Vessels can't speak. So she can't just tell them to go away and leave her alone. So she has an entourage now, who at least can help her fight. They also probably tell her about Dirtmouth, and they travel as a group to bring her there.

Maybe after she makes it clear she'd like to live peacefully in Dirtmouth, they end up leaving her. Only to return later when she's gotten restless, new party member in tow (Grantz!), who she helps to train and such.

Also also, Vessels being unable to speak definitely creates problems for both Tanya and the narrative. It has the possibility for hilarity with the good old Tanya Misunderstandings that YS is so good for, but also it creates problems with getting her to interact with people. There would have to be a LOT of charades, characters conveniently bringing up information to her, or conveniently guessing what she's trying to get at, which i feel would be hard to do naturally.

You could perhaps solve this with her meeting someone who can teach her to write or sign? Like Lemm or Quirrel. I think it'd be cute to see Relic Seeker Assistant Tanya with Lemm for a little while. I doubt she'd have an interest in the relics, but he'd probably give her a lot of insight into Hallownest history.

the Type 95 is definitely a charm in this universe. In HK canon, we're told charms are created by a bug's dying wish or something to that effect, so my first thought was that it would be a charm made by HK AU!Schugel's death that Tanya ends up getting her hands on, and then Being X blesses it... But then we also see in HK canon that Leg Eater is able to make his own charms, albeit fragile/easily breakable ones.

so my concept is this: Bug!Schugel creates his own fragile charm. I'm thinking the effect would probably be something revolving around converting infection to usable Soul/Mana (akin to the canon Type 95's Mana fixation thing). So, wandering inventor Schugel, looking for an assistant comes across Dirtmouth! Vessel!Tanya, who's hanging around (probably bored out of her mind and desperately needing to do SOMETHING productive) sees this invention and think it might be useful for the world, happens to have nothing better to do, and gets roped into this. Naturally something goes wrong, and before it fails horribly and disastrously, Being X steps in and blesses the charm. This makes the effect work, but using it also causes the wearer to become more susceptible to mental corruption/infection.

Also, I think that it also needs to become permanently unequippable (Like Void Heart) so Tanya can't get rid of it. Also also, the charm needs to have some insane cheesy name after Being X alters it. Everlasting Blessing. Immortal Prayer. Idk. But it needs to be something Tanya would hate.

I think the Silver Wings Assault Badge could also be a charm. I'm not sure what it's effect might be, but maybe something like the monarch wings, but its powered by Soul. She's an aerial mage. She needs to fly. Also it needs a cheesy charm name too. Fluttering Soul. Wings of Argent. etc. you get what I'm going for.

The Pale King is described a lot as being pure white and gleaming. Vessels, as his offspring, do look a bit similar to him. I think somewhere within this concept, you could have Tanya gain the White Silver nickname based on her appearance. Her mask/head is pale white like PK and when she uses Soul she shines like silver? idk i think it could work. Someone (203rd member perhaps?) sees her fighting and bestows the nickname on her and it gets shortened to just Silver or something

(Before this, since Vessels cant speak so she can't tell anyone what to call her, she gets called "Little One" by Elderbug. She hates it.)

if you couldn't tell, i've thought about this a lot. i invite you all to think about it with me. if you have ideas. please. share them. especially if its about other YS characters and how to fit them into HK universe. also especially if its about how HK characters would interact with her. Is the Knight/Ghost running around in the AU? How do they feel meeting a fellow sibling like this? What about Hornet?

[siffrin-enthusiast]

// intro post

[Image ID: A monochrome GIF of the main characters from the video game In Stars and Time, created by insertdisc5. End ID.]

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i do my best to keep it simple because i'm too lazy to do a cool one for convenience! interests are tagged with the name of said interest (#in stars and time), and if they're somewhat newly-out, they get a "spoilers" thrown on the end of it (#in stars and time spoilers). if there's something i post about that you don't want to see, i highly encourage you to block its tag! i won't know or be offended! :)

i’ll tag anything that i think is a common thing to be tagged like death/blood, and i do it in the format of #tw death. if this isn’t the right format or anyone wants me to tag other things that i didn’t think of, just let me know! i do NOT post or reblog 18+ content at all (personal reasons).

there's also a few special tags of my own! asks are tagged with #kuiper important posts for the important stuff (like this intro post), #kuiper favorite posts for my favorites/things i return to frequently, #kuiper asks, posts where i ramble about whatever is #kuiper rambling, posts about my dissociation/system are tagged #kuiper system posting though i don’t post about it much, things about my disabilities are occasionally tagged with #kuiper disability moment! i also write fic and while i tag them with #kuiper fics, i post most of them over at my fic sideblog! (..well i DID before i burnt out.)

if there's ever anything that you need tagged, please let me know!!

requests

i'm getting pretty into making stuff so..if anyone ever wants me to try my hand at something, please feel free to ask! this is pretty informal until i set more things up! edits, pfps, icons, stimboards, userboxes, ask games, fic/drabbles, coding, i'm willing to give it an honest shot!! feel free to ask!

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contact

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i use the block button liberally, as should you! it's freeing!

basic DNI criteria. you know the drill. bigots will just be blocked

people who don't believe in freeing palestine/zionists

entirely nsfw or untagged nsfw accounts.

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syscourse. post whatever you want on your blog, just don't bring it to mine (asking my opinion, tagging me in things).

blank blogs. i will think you're a bot.

people who are still giving j.k. rowling money. shoo!!!

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credits

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[lunar1an]

thinking a lot about wildbow's early works (worm, pact) and his more recent moralistic works (ward, pale) and the sheer difference in narrative empathy

in worm and pact you have characters who do fucked up things but it feels like a lot of effort is put into understanding the people behind them and where they're coming from. rachel's dogs maul people but there's a whole Arc of taylor learning to vibe with her and befriend her and of rachel getting what she needs (a place alone with her dogs where she can let other people in at her own pace) and growing as a person. all from the angle of 'this is genuinely good for rachel and helpful'. we want her to succeed because we care about her.

in pact we see how sandra duchamp grew up, how she's just as much a victim of her family as she is someone who perpetuates that harm, and while she's an antagonist the story doesn't spoonfeed it to us--we're allowed to see her human and sympathetic moments and we're allowed to feel bad for her while also wanting her stopped.

it felt. i don't know. like the story in general respected these characters, respected the reader's ability to empathize with those characters while also knowing Murder Bad or whatever.

but then the major worm fandom interpretations shifted. you had reddit and other popular sources going on about how taylor was actually horrible and an unreliable narrator, and how the undersiders were actually ~super fucked up and evil criminals~. pact and twig were spared this for the most part by virtue of being less popular with those crowds.

and i'm not sure if the morality discourse got baked into wildbow's brain by osmosis or if he felt like he wouldn't be appeasing his fandom if he didn't address it or what.

but by ward suddenly that narrative empathy, for the most part, is missing. it becomes conditional -- the protagonist and others do not extend empathy towards others until they Properly Recognize What They've Done Wrong. any improvement, any attempt to do better isn't legitimate unless the Bad Deeds are addressed and atoned for by whatever inconsistent standards the narrative adheres to. what matters isn't riley being in a healthier place and making connections--ward thinks that we should be rooting for riley because she recognizes she messed up and is constantly making up for the atrocities she committed.

i think it's kind of reached its peak in post arc 13 pale though. every time empathy is extended it's near-always accompanied by a patronizing little reminder of "mmmm, well you did Bad Things too".

you aren't allowed to just say "well damn i sympathize with charles", for example, because the narrative constantly reminds you that actually he is Still Doing Bad and therefore you aren't allowed to feel for him. it doesn't help that the story continually one-ups itself on thinking of ways to make charles over the top evil either.

but either way it's just. bleak. in a story purportedly about community building it's shockingly uncaring. you can't just sympathize with a morally grey character or take them As They Are without the story casting judgment and constantly reminding you of their verdict. it's just exhausting and makes any positive message the story tries to send feel hollow

OBLIGATORY NOTE: this essay does not mean "actually all fallen and e88 and etc should be empathized with". what it does mean is that in a moralistic work it becomes telling when ex-nazi rune gets her own interlude and a bunch of pagetime to show how she's 'doing better' while that same courtesy isn't extended to many villains who are traumatized and might have, say, legitimate reasons to not want to be arrested or feel like they have no other option, or legitimate reason to not support the heroes, but oh. they do Crimes so actually none of that matters as long as they're still Doing Crimes.

[voxofthevoid]

*wags tail*

Could we get a lil' bit extra from a fic of your choosing for Gojous birthday tmrw?

*pets*

You may! I usually answer asks in the order they came in, but I'm posting this one early since it's time-sensitive. Also, I never manage to keep track of character birthdays (...or dates in general), so this was how I realized it's Gojou's birthday today.

One SFW scene of 40-something Gojou from my Amnesiac!Yuuji fic getting loved on and one NSFW scene of my current WIP's Gojou happily getting his throat fucked under the cut ✨

SFW

Afterward, they’re both breathing hard, and Yuuji looks a light breeze away from collapsing on Satoru.

So Satoru makes it easy for him, tucking his spent cock away before yanking Yuuji down. Nearly hundred kilos of man presses him into the mattress, but Satoru’s long since maintained that it’s the best way to suffocate. Yuuji still mumbles an apology and tries to roll off of him, but Satoru keeps him there, his hold unyielding until Yuuji stops struggling.

A warm sigh flutters and dies against the hollow of his throat. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I can’t believe you’re turning down the chance to use me as a mattress. People would kill for it, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I bet they’re lining up.” Yuuji swats Satoru’s hip. “Let me up a bit, I can’t breathe.”

He relaxes his arms enough that Yuuji can brace his elbows on either side of Satoru’s body and squirm into a more comfortable position. He stays on top of Satoru like a good boy, but he raises his head till he’s staring down at him instead of wheezing into his neck.

“Hey.”

“Hello,” Satoru returns; there’s no fighting the curl of his mouth, and the look on Yuuji’s face drains him of the desire to try. “Comfortable?”

“You’ll do,” Yuuji says, the blasé tone at odds with the careful, gently way his hand settles on Satoru’s face, knuckles running from jaw to temple before sliding into his hair, sifting through the strands with idle motions that are too mundane for the bright, shimmering something in all four of Yuuji’s eyes. 

Satoru gets lost in them for a long, long moment.

He has to close his own eyes in the end, telling himself the burn is just a lack of moisture.

Yuuji doesn’t stop, and when Satoru opens his eyes again, he finds an expression that’s as tender, as fascinated, as the one earlier. Yuuji’s nails trace his hairline and run along his scalp. His fingers pluck at locks of hair, arranging Satoru’s fringe this way and that. It’s—

“Are you looking for grey hairs?” Satoru blurts out.

Yuuji blinks, visibly startled.

He laughs.

“Maybe,” he says, grinning down at Satoru. “Never seen a silver fox quite as literal as you.”

“Yuuuuji!”

“Don’t whine. They’re barely visible,” Yuuji placates. A finger trails down the side of his face, tapping the corner of Satoru’s eye. “These too—except when you laugh.”

Satoru pouts up at him but doesn’t try to move away from the finger still fondling his crow’s feet. “You’ll make me self-conscious.”

“Why?” Yuuji’s smile grows a little softer, a little less lopsided. “You’re beautiful.”

Satoru’s inhale burns all the way to his lungs. “Yeah?”

“Very,” Yuuji promises easily. “The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Yuuji must be able to feel it, the shiver than runs through Satoru, but he closes his eyes again in a desperate attempt to spare himself the look in Yuuji’s eyes and spare Yuuji whatever’s there in Satoru’s own, but it’s no protection against the words still echoing in his skull and the expression branded on the inside of his eyelids.

Hey, Yuuji, am I still pretty?

Don’t.

“Who allowed you to be smooth?” Satoru says, opening his eyes. His voice comes out shockingly steady.

But Yuuji still raises a questioning eyebrow. “I don’t see why you’re so surprised. You must hear it all the time.”

He’s not wrong. Satoru’s been told how pretty he is since he was a child, and he was well aware of the tone of those comments changing as he grew older and older and older, and people don’t look at him the same way now as they did when he was a teen, but the ways they word their want haven’t really changed.

But—

“It’s different when it’s you, Yuuji.” Satoru lays his hand over Yuuji’s, pressing his palm more firmly against his cheek and turning his face into it. “No one says it the way you do.”

Yuuji makes a soft, shuddering noise.

NSFW

When Satoru pries his eyes open, his vision’s a blur, and when he blinks away the tears, it’s the power he sees first, blinding white lines of it writhing in and between muscles and bone and things that can’t be touched, and even the bloody red staining it everywhere like some great beast’s drool does nothing to hide this boy’s burning potential.

Satoru blinks again, and the Six Eyes behave themselves. Yuuji’s flushed, panting face comes into view, and he’s no less bright, no less burning.

When he swallows, Yuuji’s cock digs into his flesh like a brand.

Yuuji curses, soft and vicious, and shudders from head to toe, his hips and thighs flexing under Satoru’s hands. Satoru swallows again, closing his eyes to better focus on the sheer size of the thing filling him. Yuuji’s down deep, to the point it feels like he’s lodged in Satoru’s chest, his entire ribs compressed to make room for this claiming thing, but it’s the girth that really hurts, biting into Satoru’s jaw and bruising his throat. He can’t breathe—no air, no scent. But it’s still like he’s being filled with heat all the way down to his lungs.

Satoru’s just about to pull back, keenly aware of his limits, when there’s a touch on his throat.

Soft, delicate. Then firm and warm, five whole fingers curving gently around his throat.

The palm presses in.

Satoru’s guts clench viciously with the realization that Yuuji’s trying to feel himself through Satoru’s throat, and it keeps Satoru there, breathless and scorched clean through, for a long, damning moment. His lungs scream for air, his diaphragm contracting painfully, but Satoru still stays for another moment, then another, caught and held in that tender touch along his throat.

It’s Yuuji who frees him, his hands tightening on Satoru’s hair and throat both just to push him away, and it’s so predictably gentle, but there’s no taming the devastation of that thick cock tugging free of his throat.

Satoru finds himself coughing, wet-eyed and wet-mouthed. His throat is on fire.

“Satoru…” Yuuji’s voice is dripping disbelief, and it’s not an unfamiliar tone, but this time, Satoru can’t tell whether it’s awe at his throat game or sheer incredulity that he damn near died on dick.

“Worth it,” Satoru croaks, blinking up at Yuuji till the last smudge of black at the edges of his vision fades away. “Fuck my mouth.”

Yuuji’s the one who chokes this time, on a whole lot of nothing.

It’s not hesitation though. There’s nothing shy or even reluctant about the hands that grip Satoru’s face to tug him back toward the spit-wet gleam of Yuuji’s cock. It nudges his lips, smearing precome and saliva over them before Satoru remembers to open up, and then it’s sliding in—and in and in and in, digging right past the resistance at his throat to bury itself deep.

Satoru’s entire body flashes hot with hurts both real and remembered.

And Yuuji—

Yuuji fucks his mouth, holding Satoru in place by the face and dragging that cock out of his throat but not quite out of his mouth and ramming back in, faster and rougher than before, and Satoru chokes around the plunging pressure, his eyes rolling back to let lines of power and flesh both be swallowed by blissful black.

Noise and sensation eat through him. The furious thrusts scorching his tongue and forcing open his throat. The gutted noises spilling out of the boy using him so rough and sweet. Satoru doesn’t even need to open his eyes to know what Yuuji looks like. It’s branded into his mind—that expression of agonized pleasure, trembling in the line of his mouth and gaping in the depths of his eyes.

His own body isn’t silent, wretched wet sounds splattering the air every time Yuuji slides into his mouth, only to be fucked back down his throat by each relentless plunge of that cock.

Satoru’s dimly aware of his arms growing limp, dropping from Yuuji’s hips to dangle numbly at his sides, and Yuuji seems to falter for a moment, either reaction or coincidence, but Satoru drags his tongue over that retreating cockhead, sucking it sweet and sloppy in a messy mockery of a kiss, and Yuuji feeds him the rest with a throaty groan, grinding his groin into Satoru’s face like he can burrow even deeper, and Satoru makes a tight, thin noise around his generous mouthful, a new hollow splitting him open from throat to gut.

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): Pretty Girl [22]

"You are never allowed to leave me with him again."

I point an accusatory finger at Larry, making him keel back in his seat and scrunch up his nose.

"What the hell did he do to you?" Larry barks out, voice cracking beneath the weight of his tone.

I scoot onto a bar stool, watching as Ash pulls out a pan to cook dinner. As Larry's settling in beside me, ready to hear about the latest gossip, Todd walks through the door. It's been about an hour since Sal dropped his intimidation tactic on me and I haven't seen him since. Larry walked in with Ash mere minutes ago, the two of them giggling over their perfect timing.

I don't have even an ounce of giggle in me.

I shake my head at emo buff daddy. "I'm sure it'll be the first words out of that monster's mouth. Give him five minutes. Tops," I reply half heartedly, knowing full well that as soon as Sal realizes we're all gathered in the kitchen, he's going to come out and confirm everyone's suspicions about me.

Ash turns to me, string cheese hanging from her mouth as she says, "While the boys are out tomorrow, I'm taking you on a tour of Nockfell." She gives me a cute little half curtsy then turns back to prepping dinner, I guess.

She's used to Sal and I bickering at this point so the fact that more has happened means nothing to her.

"A tour won't be necessary considering y/n's already lived here."

I stay silent, watching the way Ash gives herself whiplash, mirroring the action with wide eyes. Larry makes a single sound, something caught between a screech and garbled choke. And Todd merely raises his brows a bit, setting his bag by the door and taking off his shoes.

Tongue in cheek, I stare straight into the kitchen, avoiding everyone's gazes even as Sal crosses my field of vision to steal the rest of Ash's cheese. I try not to watch the way he plucks the cheese from her lips then lifts up the bottom of his prosthetic to eat the rest. 

Ash's brows furrow, lips parted as if she's still holding her cheese, then whirls around to smack the back of Sal's head. The man hisses at the assault, ruffling his cerulean hair where he rubs his head to soothe the ache. 

"What the hell did you just say!?" Ash proceeds to bellow, her emerald eyes cutting into the Smurf's soul. Damn Travis for giving him that nickname.

"The obvious," Sal murmurs, buckling the bottom of his prosthetic back onto his face. His pretty face that I really wish I could see again.

This time, Ash doesn't snap back at him. Her eyes, still murderous, only hold Sal's gaze as her glossy lips press together.

"So," Larry hops into the conversation, seemingly trying to bite down whatever kerfuffle is brewing between Ash and Sal. "It's true then?" he continues. I turn my head, noting Larry's raised brows. He looks hopeful and a little... crushed all at the same time. "Why didn't you tell us all?"

My mouth opens to spew out whatever nonsense fills my head because he doesn't understand. And I don't know how to make him understand either. But I take a moment, snap my lips shut, and think about my response.

"We figured you'd tell us before Sal of all people." Todd's voice fills the hollow silence and that's when Larry's question finally clicks in my head. He didn't mean tell them all in general, he thinks I opened up to Sal about it before everyone else. It sounds like me hiding my identity doesn't even offend them in the slightest.

"I didn't tell this asshole a single thing," I bite out, gesturing to Sal who rears his head back as if someone finally told him he needs to repaint his damn nails. Offended. "He--" I purse my lips, trying to quickly reword this afternoon's events in a way that doesn't spell out the fact that Sal Fisher feasted on me like Thanksgiving dinner laid out on his gaming desk. I blink. "He walked out of his room, had an epiphany or something, and called me out by name. What was I supposed to do?"

It's quiet. Quiet in the sense that I could hear everyone's hearts pounding simultaneously if I focused hard enough. Up until: "I told her that we all knew. You guys were being nice about it and, well, I'm not. Case closed. Vi is y/n confirmed and now we can squash out the hiding and tiptoeing. Welcome to the real world." Sal's less-than-chipper, nonchalant voice echoes in the near silent kitchen as he explains himself, leaning against the sink beside Ash.

"Does Ash know though?" Larry raises an eyebrow at Sal and his expression is wary, concerned. Like he's afraid of the moment Ash squeals in excitement over this discovery.

Sal just gives his brother a bland look. "Brain, Lartholomew. Use your brain, not your cock."

Larry's eyes narrow. "I'll have you know that my schlong has never led me astray," he says pridefully. "But as for Ash," He turns his head and levels a glare at the beauty. "You didn't say a single word about this. What's up with that?"

It's my turn to cut in now. Ash isn't at fault here-- not a single bit of this falls onto her because all she did was exactly what I'd asked of her. She's been perfect.

"I asked her to stay quiet," I say, shriveling a bit as all heads turn to me, clearly waiting for an explanation. So I take a breath and tell them the truth-- at last. Shedding the weight of lying after dying to let it out and be honest for so long.

"A day or two before I came in as VioletViolence," I start, glancing between Todd and Larry. I'm talking to them-- Ash already knows the deal and I know Sal couldn't care less. "I watched the video where you guys talked about me. And I heard everything Sal had to say. I called Ash later, ended up having a short and quick chat with Sal--" I try not to aim a menacing glare at him while recalling the memory. "And then Ash... knowing that things kind of sucked for me in LA, offered to help me get started with streaming. You guys know I like games, she does too, so I decided to try it out. But in between that, I was terrified of Sal for whatever reason and didn't want to say who I truly was. What if he called me out online or refused to play or something? It just felt... it felt so dire," I try to explain, accentuating with my hands, desperate to portray what went through my mind. What led to this. "That I couldn't come out as myself. And I'm sincerely sorry for all of it-- for not being open with you guys sooner, for approaching the situation with a disguise to begin with. I'm sorry."

The words pour out of me and it takes every inch of my sanity not to fold in on myself. Admitting the truth is scarier than visiting the dentist. I should have just been honest from the start.

"So it's your fault."

I focus in on Larry who practically scowls through each word-- his head tilted at Sal and fury dancing in his pretty, chocolatey eyes. 

My eyebrows raise as I watch the stare down between both men, taking a mental note to bet on who would win. Maybe I can make a couple bucks.

Unfortunately, my bet is on Sal simply because he's normally incredibly calm with his responses-- unless it's him and I arguing, of course. "If it's any consolation," he says, watching Larry without an inch of fear in those azure eyes. "I kind of feel bad about it."

I suck in a quick breath as some kind of tie unfastens around my heart. It's not an apology, but it's an emotion. From Sal. From the aggravation and... acquaintance he's slowly turning into for me... that has ailed my soul for months now.

It's not an apology, but it means something.

"Then do better, Fisher," Larry warns playfully, smacking his lips. "Y/n's family. She's not going anywhere. You have to get used to it."

Sal rolls his eyes, slipping back into his usual, foul personality. "Joy," he blandly states. And like a phantom wind, Sal simply slinks over to the fridge, grabs another string cheese, then disappears into his room. No wonder he's so damn pale-- I have no doubt he has some kind of vitamin deficiency.

Todd sighs, breaking the temporary silence that had settled over us. And for what it's worth, instead of arguing that I'm not family, Sal silently accepted it instead.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The next morning, Ash has me up at the crack ass of dawn.

It's actually just 10pm, but it feels early enough considering Larry and I stayed up til 3am streaming together. We double-teamed heaping groups of poor, unfortunate victims in Among Us. It was really fun and our fans loved seeing us side-by-side on whoever's stream they decided to join.

Ash and I decided to spend the night too. Apparently, things didn't go down great at her house so she wanted to give her parents some time to cool off. I didn't want to pry, especially since it seemed like it wounded Ash too, so we pulled out the sofa bed and camped out in the living room together. The whole night, I could have sworn I felt something purring at my feet, but maybe it was just a dream.

I replaced my normal mask with a sleeping mask for the night. Doesn't cover as much but it's better than nothing, plus I had my head hidden under the blankets regardless. Either way, whatever I did managed to do the trick and no one discovered my other identity.

Both boys are apparently gone by now, having embarked on their own journeys that they claimed they had for the day.

"Come on, get up, time to go," Ash chirps like a mourning dove when all the morning glories begin to bloom. I am not having it, even as I follow her orders and change into some clothes for the day-- black skirt, Type O Negative merch shirt, and vans. Could be better, could be worse. Ash says I look 'smashing' though, even if the color of my outfit clashes with the violet of my mask.

When I walk into the kitchen, I grab a croissant resting on a paper plate and stuff it into my mouth for a quick breakfast. Ash grabs a crimson purse that looks like it costs more than my prospective college tuition would have, and gestures to the front door. "We're walking today, gorgeous," she tells me with a grin. "Nockfell's tiny. We get around on bikes or our feets."

"Feets?" I ask with a giggle, enjoying the cool breeze that flows into the house when Ash opens the front door. 

Ash nods proudly. "Yup. Feets."

So we use our feets and walk through the little town of Nockfell. It's everything I remembered it being-- a scene straight out of the Halloween franchise. Tall oaks shedding their leaves, glowing a golden brown and yellow in the dim sunlight. That is, whatever little sunlight manages to shine through the overcast clouds that threaten to spill their rainy contents every second.

The pumpkins aren't in season yet. The numerous, empty crop fields we pass on our trip onto main street tells me as much. But it's only a matter of time now, just a couple months until little pumpkins begin to pop up.

"For now, we're dropping by Henry's music store, mainly because I know you want to see it since you like music and all. After that, we can do whatever you want-- or just go home. Doesn't matter to me," Ash says as we finally reach Nockfell's main street. It's this one road that runs straight through the heart of Nockfell. The road that travelers take to get through the city as quickly as possible. 

I look over at my best friend, observing her wine colored lips that nearly match her purse, then her long-sleeved, grey crop top and black jeans. She's so pretty.

"Henry has a music store?" I ask once I remember that the goddess on my side spoke to me.

"Mhm," Ash hums, flipping her sort of short hair over her shoulder. "It's just a couple buildings away now," she continues, leaning toward me and pointing down the road ahead of us. I haphazardly glance, assuming that the giant record sign with an F in the middle is the store in question. 

Ash and I are walking into the store just seconds later. We hover near the door only until Henry catches Ash's eye. She launches into a speed-walk in his direction, but I admire the inside of the store before following.

Guitars of various types and colors litter the walls of the store. So many... so many that I can't even count. And then the floor houses different drums, add-on's for instruments, and a wide variety of records. It's stunning-- so much so that I swear I can hear seraphim singing all around me. Such an angelic thing to see; the makings of the best genre of music. 

When I snap out of my ogling, I walk over to where Ash is finishing up a conversation with Henry.

I smile at the man as he walks away from the front counter, moving over to help a young boy who's desperately trying to hold onto a guitar that's far too large for him. Sweet little thing.

I turn my attention to Ash who's chewing on the end of a pixie stick,-- I don't know where the hell she got it from-- gazing lazily at Henry's silhouette. Her eyes slide to mine, viridian irises shining in the various fluorescent lights that add a mystifying brightness to the space-y room. She gives me a bewitching smile, teeth imbedded into the stained paper of her candy.

With a smile back at her, I lean my elbows onto the counter I found her at and rest my chin in my palm. "Are we camping out with the boys again tonight?" I voice my internal question, watching as she purses her lips in contemplation.

"It's up to you," she murmurs, shrugging. "We've all been packed up for the most part since before we went to LA. We just have necessities to pick up— which, that's all at the boys' place because they all live together." I guess she's trying to avoid the topic of her parents. Her eyes glaze over me, thinking about the best option, no doubt. "We leave in two days— more than enough time to pack up their kitchen and get my boxes into a van."

"I'm fine with either option," I bashfully admit. I hate making decisions— I don't want to disappoint anyone, especially when I'm more than happy to do whatever.

Ash narrows her eyes at me playfully, scrutinizing me and my lacking decision lightheartedly. "I'll just ask Larry what he wants to do then," she chirps. Bless Ash and her ability to find a solution to everything. "Would you be able to put up with Sal for another night if we decide to stay?"

I snort. "Yea, don't worry about that. He seems to be the type to lock himself in his room for hours on end and never come out," I chuckle a bit as I think about how I was occupying a few minutes of those hours for him yesterday. "That means we'd hardly cross paths."

Ash tilts her head, lips quirked up lightly as her hair falls into her eyes. My fingers itch to push the strands away from the forest of green hiding beneath. "I think he's warming up to you," she counters my rationale with something so obnoxiously ridiculous that I nearly fall over.

"Yea, okay," I answer sarcastically, unable to hold back the crazed laugh that falls from my lips.

The music in the room suddenly grows louder, cutting off our conversation. Ash jumps out of her skin, eyes momentarily going wide. But then they narrow, brows bunched together as her gaze shoots to me.

"Why the hell is it so loud?" she voices my thoughts.

But that's the thing, it isn't just loud. It's suspiciously concert-like. "Is someone playing?" I ask, turning to see if Henry is the culprit— I hear guitar and drums. Someone is playing Save Me by Killswitch Engage beautifully.

Ash whips her head to the side like she got sucker punched. I watch as confusion flits across her features, and then stony concern. Clear apprehension exemplified by the pinching of her lips, but some frustration mixed in there too if her furrowed eyebrows are a hint to anything.

So I turn my head to look where she is too, finding that someone is playing. Well, people are playing. Todd's boyfriend, Neil, is going to town on a drum kit like a pro. I'd noticed the set up upon walking into the store but I didn't think it was usable.

I'm thinking Neil might play a big part in my life-- more specifically, he might play a big part in a very specific band.

And in front of him is a man with a guitar in his hands. A blue guitar and that red, gold, and black mask with music notes. Intricate, loud, mysterious. And I am one hundred percent hallucinating right now because why the fuck would North be in Nockfell of all places? The Faces' hometown or not, this is fever dream material.

"What the fuck." Words fall from my lips before I can really think better about them, my eyes darting over every inch of North's figure like an alligator staring at its prey-- probably something innocent like a bunny. I feel like such chaos compared to North who has been nothing but pure, sweet, and tender to me. But the way his fingers, clad in fingerless leather gloves, move along the strings of his vibrant guitar, his mask tilted down with his head as he watches his finger placement and movements, and the positioning of his entire body as he shreds through a guitar solo. What else is supposed to go through my mind other than unintelligible button smashing? My mental keyboard's letters are flying around my head like a fucking tornado.

A monotonous, mumbled reply from Ash makes me blink at the rockstar, my eyes never leaving his form. "Dark Autumn Complex recorded their music video here," she answers the question I failed to ask— she knows me so well. "I thought they'd left."

Tongue in cheek and heart racing a mile a minute, I say, "Why am I just finding out about this?"

"Because it didn't matter at first," she instantly replies, voice a tad louder. "But now I'm starting to wonder if what Larry said was true."

I gulp. I've been wondering about that too. About North's supposed crush on me. I assumed it was all in good fun, but Ash possibly finding some hidden truth in the matter makes my stomach feel queasy. And the queasiness isn't bad.

I bite down on my bottom lip, watching as North and Neil close the song, breaking off on a heavy chord before taking a moment to catch their breath. Neil wipes beads of sweat off his forehead, captivating smile enveloping his face and illuminating his mocha skin. Todd wasn't lying when he flaunted about his boyfriend being a complete catch.

North, on the other hand, lets his guitar hang from his chest and turns to Neil, uttering something quiet enough to the point that Ash and I can't hear. It's clear that the two men are communicating though because Neil is nodding his head in agreement, laughing heartily, and talking back to him.

I turn away, facing Ash who stands behind the counter. I don't need to get myself tangled up in another messy situashionship. Sal's more than enough in that department, plus North is too gentle for that. I wouldn't do that to him. I don't need all this strife and mess. It's probably better if I don't talk to North anymore, even if the thought pulls at my heartstrings a little too hard.

Ash is chewing on the inside of her cheek, eyes slowly roving around and growing closer to my own body. My breath catches in my throat as I contemplate what to do within the next few moments. My best friend looks anything but content and I know her eyes are tracking North's movements. Her calculated emerald eyes say enough.

My lunch leaps into my throat when arms cage me in from behind, hands resting on the counter on either side of me. I have, like, five seconds tops to decide on a plan before I address the man behind me and his very bold approach. Wow, never thought I'd be shooting down a hot guy like this.

I run my tongue over the surface of my teeth, tilting my head up a bit to find that fancy mask hovering over my body and showing off what looks like grey eyes that are solely focused on me.

My heart thumps like there are a thousand little miners embedding pickaxes into the crevices of the organ, trying to dig their way through to see what lovely minerals they'll find. It's almost too much— the little intrigued, shocked twinkle in the masked man's shaded eyes and the way his fingertips dig into the wood counter in front of me, arms encircling my body like a shield.

I slap a smile onto my lips, a smile that undoubtedly looks nauseated and a mess. But it's a smile. "Hi, North." The words pop past my lips and I thank my body's natural instincts for a moment. I always babble when I'm cornered and I appreciate that weakness at the moment. It might scare him off before I have to possibly break his heart. Hopefully it doesn't come to that.

My head tilts downward again and I carefully shift myself, turning my body around to face the man as he takes a step away. In addition, his head tips to the side almost as if he didn't expect me to speak.

So I keep speaking despite how badly I wish I could shut up now. The babbling worked a second ago but this consistency— I might as well consider myself a pile of vines wrapping my way around this poor guy's legs. I can't stop.

"My cousin thinks you're hot." I seethe on the inside, willing myself to just shut the fuck up. I've said all of seven words to him in the span of a full minute and it's already getting worse. "Can I get a picture of you to send to him?" Y/n, please, for the love of everything holy.

I'd never truly be able to explain the panic that coursed through me upon seeing him playing his guitar, but having him suddenly right in front of me has sent me into flight or flight mode. My fight instincts are to bargain my way out or yap until someone gets bored with me so... here we are.

Much to my chagrin, North fucking nods. This walking, breathing, living piece of sex on a stick nods at me to signal his agreement to a picture. And now I'm stuck and Ash can't see my face so she doesn't know the fear roiling through my limbs right now, taking over my brain and turning me into someone I'm not. Arguably.

So I lift my phone with shaky fingers and slap the most pathetically petrified grin on my face to take a quick picture of us and send it to Travis because now I have to follow through with the stupid last minute plan.

But things always get worse when it comes to me. I make a mental note to stop putting myself in tricky situations the moment that North moves beside me and stands so close that his arm has to wrap around my upper back and his chest is pressed into my shoulder. I lose every sense, falter for such a long moment that I forget how to breathe.

The warmth radiating through the right side of my body is intense, alongside the cool fingers gently pressing into the top of my left arm where his hand wrapped around me. I hear a sigh from behind— Ash.

His mask taps against the side of mine and I realize that I can just make out the sound of his even breathing. Quiet, muffled, unbothered. This is nothing to him— likely something he does with fans quite often. Does he get this close to them too? Is he this intimate with everyone? Based on how comfortable he seems, I'd guess this is routine. I'm nothing special— and I don't know if that's relaxing or the reason my own bodily functions haven't returned to normal yet.

I gulp, flipping my camera to take a picture of us together. I muster up the best little smile I can force, a slight tilt of my lips and squinting of my eyes. North presses his face a little closer against mine, the plastic of our masks causing a dull scratching sound that reverberates through my entire skull. A tattoo in the lonely, forgotten, impenetrable part of my brain that swore off any little desperate feelings of tenderness years ago.

I snap the picture quickly and bring my phone down, hastily clicking onto Travis's contact to send the photo. "Thanks," I shakily chirp to North, "I'll keep it forever." I say it with a subtle tone of finality, hoping that it'll result in him moving away... but he stays, chin on my shoulder as my quivering fingers hover over the keyboard.

Okay. I guess he's curious. He must be enjoying the way I'm very obviously squirming.

I type out a quick text before sending the picture.

Me: guess what :3 Me: (1 attachment)

Travis's response comes no less than a full five seconds later, the little text bubble popping up the way North popped into Nockfell today. I hate my life.

Simp for the Entire Male Population: BITTTTTCCCCHHHHH Simp for the Entire Male Population: Hold on, FaceTime me so I can show him my cock.

That brings me a little bit of joy. I snort at the message, noting that it's the exact moment that North finally moves— but it's not away from me, it's a laugh he's barely able to keep hidden, a snort just like mine if you will. I could love this man, I really could, but I won't.

And then he plucks my phone from my fingers which sets me into fight mode again, but this time I'll actually drop kick him. I have a lot to lose with my phone in someone else's hands— if he clicks out of my messages with Travis, he could see my real name somewhere. He could see my messages with my dad, hell, he could see my messages with Sal— that perpetually unsaved number sitting in my messages with his last text including the name Lexi.

A flicker of unadulterated fear and failure makes me feel as if I'll vomit, sweat building up on my forehead at the mere prospect. But North, he doesn't move my phone from my view— holds it out in front of both our faces as he types out a quick message that says,

Me: no doubt mine'll be bigger -N

I swallow past the dryness in my mouth. What a brave guy to test my cousin like that. Travis enjoys a challenge. I'm lucky that I'm family because otherwise I'd have an unwanted dick pic floating in, I'm sure. Maybe these two should exchange phone numbers.

Travis hasn't messaged back, but North starts typing again.

Me: post our picture.

He doesn't send the message, just leaves it there for a second for me to see. Then he holds down the backspace button, deleting the message entirely.

I blink. Once, twice, a third time before I fully process his message.

"You want me to post our picture?" I ask him, making the mistake of turning my head to look at him. And he's close, too close— so close that even he finally backs away, keeping a safe but friendly distance between us. He nods his confirmation while simultaneously allowing me to take my first breath of air without shuddering since he first walked over here.

North nods again, shifting his weight into a more relaxed stance, his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Dressed the same way he was at his concert. So Noah Sebastian-coded.

I nod back, wielding a mental knife that stabs and slices at the awkwardness I've caused. I can't stand myself— I shouldn't be like this. If anything, he should be. He's the one who called me his idol the other day.

Regardless of my current circumstances, I open up Instagram and post our picture, making sure to tag North and their band account. I don't bother putting a caption though. I don't have the brain power to come up with anything smart or witty. I don't have the brain power to come up with anything at all.

I post the photo then lock my phone with lightening speed and stuff it into my pocket. I don't want to be present when the comments and likes start to roll in, especially not in front of him.

My attention goes back to North who's still standing in front of me. He tilts his head down a bit, as if to show me he's pleased then takes a step forward. He moves fluidly, like a gentle wave in a calm ocean as his hand lifts and his fingers tap under my chin. It's a featherlight, minuscule touch that tilts my head up just a tad before he pulls his hand away again. A thank you, nice to see you, wish I didn't have to leave, and see you later. That's what that touch was. All in one.

He looks over my shoulder at Ash, offers her a wave, glances back at me then turns on his heel. And like he was never even here to begin with, his presence is gone-- disappeared behind a door labled 'Employees Only.' I feel like I went through something that dreamcatchers are supposed to keep at bay. The only remnants and confirmation that what I just lived through was real being the most recent photo in my camera roll, one that I don't have the balls to look at right now. 

And then my body betrays me. A fluttering deep in my soul makes me press a hand to my chest as if I'm trying to release trapped butterflies. Trying to scrounge up a lost breath, searching high and low for a medical explanation as to why my fingers tremble. Why my legs feel like jello. Why my stomach is twisted into knots that are too tight to unravel. Why my body feels so light, but my mental feels so drained. Why I feel drawn to chase that man behind the door while battling the internal faint feeling that has me swaying on my feet.

This feeling doesn't seem as terrible as it did when I felt it with Sal. The attraction. The tender affection that grips me in its ambrosia-drenched, quietly dangerous vices.

I stare at the empty spot where North stood just seconds ago. The spot that Neil suddenly fills up.

"Hey," he drawls in such a milky tone, pretty smile stealing my attention for just a moment. "You're Vi, right? I've heard a lot about you from Ash and Todd!" His umber skin, illuminated by the low lighting in the store, captures my gaze when just a singular bead of sweat drips down his neck and disappears beneath the collar of his shirt. 

I'll never say it out loud but, damn, is Todd a lucky man. I feel like I'm looking at a god of old age right now-- the type that's too perfect even for statues.

I suck in a breath and force another smile on my face. I'll worry about North later.

"Hey, Neil," I start cooly, offering the man my outstretched hand. "Yea, I am Vi but I'm also y/n-- not sure if everyone else told you yet. But, nice to see you again."

Neil's brows raise in surprise. "Ah, no, seems Todd left me out of the teacup this time." He chuckles lowly, showing off that handsome grin again. "I haven't seen you since grade school! How have you been?"

I shrug, smiling in turn. "Not really thriving, but surviving," I admit with a chirp, drowning in Ash's silence while Henry's chipper form grows closer to us.

Neil tilts his head and purses his lips as if to say that he relates. But when he speaks again, it's the last thing I expected to hear. 

"You know, I noticed you kept perfect beat with my drumming earlier. Do you play at all?"

My eyes widen a bit. I hadn't even realized he noticed me, nor did I realize that I was keeping beat with the song he and North played. A little breathless, I reply, "I've played for seven years. Haven't for the last year though because of my living situation, but..."

"Wow," he whispers, leaning closer to inquire in that smooth voice. "Seven years?" He puffs his cheeks, blowing out a breath. "That's... a while. Would you want to play?"

Where my chest felt filled to the brim mere moments ago, it suddenly feels achingly hollow. Play? Again? It's been over or near twelve full months since I so much as touched my drum kit that's been packed away in three separate boxes. I've ached to wrap my fingers around drumsticks again and get lost in the beat of a good song. 

But there's anxiety deep in my gut because it's been so long. I don't know if I can even still play anymore.

"I don't know," I tell him weakly, glancing over his shoulder at the immaculate drum kit. Set up and spotless, drumsticks resting on top of the snare. "I don't think I'd be any good. Not what I used to be."

Neil shakes his head exasperatedly. "Girl, you played for seven years. That isn't just a talent anymore, that's second nature. Drumming is breathing. You could lose both your hands and still find a way to play. Get get on that kit before I drag you there." His voice is aggressive, but in that loving, coddling type of way. Still aggressive enough to make me flinch into a quick walk toward that daunting drum kit in the middle of the room.

Ash, Neil, and Henry follow behind me as I round the kit and plop into the chair, staring down at the instrument that haunts me night and day. The one thing that kept me tethered to this world when nothing else could. Cymbals, toms, snare, bass. It's all here.

I chew on the inside of my cheek and delicately pick up the drumsticks, flipping one around in my left hand. The little trick I used to flaunt in high school. 

My eyes drag up to Ash who's watching me with stars in her eyes. She catches my gaze and clears her throat. "I didn't know you played," she rasps out.

"You know I like my secrets," I croon, tilting my head a bit. "Got a song request?"

"Well knowing you, it's all rock or metal," she snorts, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"You're correct," I snicker, waiting for a song name or band, something. I covered a lot of songs during my free time in high school. If Ash gives me the one hard song she knows, I'll probably be able to play it.

"Wherein Christine Daaé Becomes Her Own Phantom?" Ash asks, eyes narrowing as her face contorts into a nervous cringe. A Dark Autumn Complex song. Of course. One of their first from however long ago.

I giggle as confirmation, readying my sticks and giving myself a moment to think back on all the memories that Neil was right about. I've done this long enough. It is second nature and it always will be.

With the first hit of my drumstick, I fall into a bridge between dimensions. A bridge only available when I immerse myself, lose myself in the art that comes with music. Comes with creating and mimicking it. Time slips by on a breeze, slow but so death-defyingly fast. Quiet, but pounding in every inch of my being. 

And I only return to reality when I realize I'm nearing the end of the song, drawing off with a final note and staring at the echoing drums in front of me, my fingers numbing and sticks hot in my hands.

I missed this so much.

I don't have time to wonder how I did or feel stage fright because my lovely best friend takes that opportunity away.

Ash's loud, reverberating squeal drags my gaze up from the kit. My eyes meet her teary ones first. She looks so excited, hands curled underneath her chin as she grins brightly. Beside her though, the only really attention-grabbing figure is North who's resurfaced from his hiding place at the back of the store. But he just looks at me-- his dark eyes don't crinkle in a smile, he doesn't walk over to me or make a move at all. Just stands next to Henry who looks like he could cry with the kind of pride only a father can have. And Neil, he's at my side, I realize, when a warm hand clasps onto my shoulder.

I whip my head to him, gazing up at his much taller figure. "See?" he exclaims, gesturing to the drums. "I knew you had it in you. You need to get back on a kit and keep working. Don't give this up. You're really good." He gives me an encouraging smile that has my mind reeling with possibilities. 

That smile gives me hope. So I smile back at that hope.

As I'm standing to leave this gorgeous drum kit behind, I notice Ash angle a blinding glare at North beside her. The man doesn't acknowledge the expression, or her for that matter. When Ash looks back to me though, I wonder if I really did see a glare because she looks so happy, so filled with positivity. Maybe the look was in my head.

The woman comes bounding over to me, her dainty hand gently wrapping around my wrist. "Let's head home," she says, ditching her plan of letting me pick where to go next in the city. "I have to stop by the Nockfell Psychward first--"

"I'm sorry," I cut in, watching her warily. "The psychward? Nockfell has one of those?"

Ash waves me off. "Not an actual psychward, silly. That's just what we call our local grocery store. Filled with all kinds of people, customers and employees alike, who really need to be admitted." She looks off into the distance like she's reminiscing about something before her forest eyes clash with mine again. "Let's go!"

Ash begins dragging me out of the music store, the grip on my wrist going from gentle to dominating in a quick second. It makes me wonder what kind of rollercoaster her lovers must go through when it comes to her.

I turn a head over my shoulder, waving at Henry, Neil, and North who watch Ash kidnap me like this is a normal occurrence. All three wave back just as we disappear through the doors, but I watch North until he's nothing but a speck of dust hidden behind those tinted doors. Until we're already walking far enough down the road that I can see Nockfell's grocery store just a little ways away. Or, as Ash calls it, the Nockfell Psychward.

Ash and I are finished with our shopping trip within just ten minutes, the two of us holding three bags each on one arm and coveting hot coffee in our other free hand.��

Ash sips from her coffee, licking her lips clean of the brown liquid before she turns to me with something fiery flashing in her eyes. Our walk back to Sal, Larry, Todd, and Neil's place is just about five minutes as far as I've heard.

I match Ash's steps as she watches me, holds my gaze, starts brewing something in that beautiful, jewel-encrusted mind of hers. 

"Is there something going on that you haven't told me about?" She asks, an edge to her voice that makes my limbs lock up. I almost trip over my feet.

Does she know? About me and Sal? We've been careful, covered our tracks fairly well, as far as I'm aware. Maybe Sal's been talking? Maybe I'm overthinking? But for her to hit me with this kind of question...

"Uh, not that I'm aware of?" I force out through trembling lips, hoping that the veer-off from the truth is believable enough.

Ash's eyes narrow and I feel like I might dissipate into the afterlife right here on the side of the road.

"So North's infatuation with you is just... random." She states-- states, not asks-- and tilts her head forward like she can read the lies and truths swirling around in my head.

Oh, she's thinking that me and North have something going on.

I almost feel inclined to lead her in that direction-- to think that maybe North and I are involved so that it keeps her away from suspecting me and Sal. But I'm already hiding enough from her. Lying to her again, roping North into it... it feels unnecessary. Feels cruel.

"Yes," I say truthfully, taking a quick sip of my peppermint mocha. "I'm as confused and shocked as you are," I tell her, gesturing with my cup. "But I'm not opposed to it either."

It pains me to watch the grim expression that takes over Ash's face, the way she pinches her lips together like she knows she's going to disappoint me. 

"It's..." She trails off, looking up to the cloudy, grey sky as she tries to find the right words. "It's... odd. The whole thing is weird." She jerks her head to the side as if to take back what she said, but adds to the statement instead. "I know it's not my place to get involved, but it just doesn't sit right with me. It's so... just..."

"Wrong? Random? Unnecessary? Misplaced?" I fill in the blank for her, voicing my own thoughts on the matter. These words have been plaguing me regarding North's sudden focus on me. I'm nothing but the dirt beneath his feet-- so why is he into me at all?

"Well, now that you say it," Ash starts. "I can tell why he's interested. You're beautiful with a stunning and selfless personality to match. Literally, who wouldn't fall for you?"

I smile at my dear friend, red painting my cheeks from her words. I don't have a response, not when she's completely countered both our thought processes. 

"I'll just bully Sal about it since they're close," she quips, shrugging. "I've never seen North go for anyone but fuck buddies and I don't want that for you, so I'm gonna get the message to him in some way. I'll make sure he knows of my wrath."

We walk a little ways farther up the road, turning into Sal's driveway. I'm so immersed in what Ash has said that I nearly miss the very well cared for '67 Camaro parked beside the house. It's a little worse for wear, shows its age, but the black paint is fresh, glistening. It's clearly loved.

My guess is that it's Neil. He was the only one who wasn't at the house yesterday-- he probably beat Ash and I home. 

But I focus on Ash as we walk up the front steps to the house. "Just don't hurt his face," I joke to her, watching as she turns the doorknob, pushing it open with her hip. "I know he's pretty beneath that mask."

"How do you know that?" Ash snorts, setting her three bags on the table. I follow suit.

"All masked men are hot," I say, shrugging. "I know North is going to be beautiful the same way I knew Sal would be."

Ash snaps her head to look at me. The action is so quick that I wonder how she didn't snap her neck. "You think Sal is beautiful?" She asks, her words a grating, exasperated shrill.

I wince, watching her with furrowed brows. "I'm stating the obvious," I argue, holding my hands up in surrender. "I mean, come on, he's a handsome man with a pretty face."

I mean those words. I've meant them every time I've said this. Sal has such a nice face-- scars and all. 

Ash seems to contemplate, those viridian eyes roving over me the entire time. "Yea...true," she finally settles on, "Sal is pretty." But there's something in her gaze that says she's wary.

Movement seems to catch Ash's eye the moment she utters those words, because she snaps her head forward again. Her neck is really going to hurt later. But I follow her gaze, coming to the horrible realization that Sal is just... here. He's leaning against the edge of the kitchen table across from Ash and I, watching with those haunting sapphire eyes.

I don't have words. They've failed me. Someone needs to put me out of my misery.

"You," Ash practically growls, pointing a finger at Sal like it's a Sith Lord's lightsaber. Her voice is menacing, holding a fuck ton of hidden, murderous desires. "Put your friend on a fucking leash."

Her seething words make me take a step back. The sheer, bloodthirsty undertones take me back to the conversation we had on the way here. She told me she'd bully Sal about North, but maybe she only put up that front to keep me off her tail. So I wouldn't freak out or tell her to leave things be. Because the way she's stomping over to Sal right now, getting in his face with a nasty scowl taking over her features, says that maybe she really is angry and put-off by this whole thing with North.

Sal looks down at her, prosthetic face perfectly masking his emotions like it always does. His eyes do a great job of holding up that nonchalant expression as he carefully says, "If my friend did it and I didn't, then there's no reason for you to come at me like this." Those words are meticulous. No yelling. No anger. Just... words. But that alone seems terrifying, especially when he adds, "Back off."

Ash concedes to his request, taking a singular step back to put some space between them. My body grows warm beneath the tension, the pressure of watching these two stare at each other-- one hot-headed and ready to knock the shorter one down, and the other the complete epitome of calm aggression with no fear in his stance.

"I'm serious, Sal," Ash warns. I've never heard her so grave before. "He's playing with fire and if he adds anymore fuel, the results won't be pretty. Talk to North. You need to talk to him." She takes a deep breath, harsh voice softening a bit. "And you tell him that I said he needs to figure his shit out and leave y/n alone. Because I know him. And I know that he's going to play her like a fucking fiddle if he isn't threatened."

Oh. So when she said that North only had fuck buddies, she meant that she doesn't trust him with me. Even if she doesn't realize that I'm in some kind of shituationship with the man right in front of her-- fuck buddies-- whichever it is. She's just looking out for me, obviously, but that assertive stance she's taken against it... I can't help but feel like letting her dig a hole for this blooming thing between North and I is the best decision.

Sal doesn't reply to her. But he does stand a bit straighter, puts his hands into the pockets of his sweats. And then his head turns to me. 

A dark ocean of endless blue meets my gaze as he asks in a low, authoritative tone, "What did he say to you?"

The question catches me off guard. The way he articulated the words, the tone he used. All suggesting someone playing a protective role. It sends that fluttering feeling through me again.

My mouth goes dry as I battle my own mind, fighting for the right thing to say. But I don't know what to say. Between Sal making me feel things I shouldn't and North leading me into a corner, I'm stuck.

I subconsciously shake my head, mouth gaping like a fish as my heart pounds wildly in my chest, my body still warm with anxiety. "It's-- He--" I falter, swallowing thickly before I try again. "It's nothing bad, per se." I shrug shakily as Ash turns her head to assess me too. "Some flirting online, and-- and we took a picture today. He grabbed my chin. That's about it. It's really... not a big deal."

"Wait, he's been flirting with you online?" Ash asks, emerald irises zeroing in on me just as her voice grows harsh yet again. Even Sal tilts his head, eyes narrowed.

Ash walks over to me and I already know what she's silently asking for. Proof.

It may not be a big deal to me, but if Sal is actively getting involved... maybe it's bigger than I think.

So I pull my phone out of my back pocket to show her our interaction from a couple days ago. But it turns out I don't need to.

The very first notification on my phone, among a few others, is from North. A comment under the picture I'd posted of us.

dacnorthxx: pretty girl <3

My lips part in surprise at the same moment Ash lets out a grumble of frustration behind me. 

And Ash, ever the leader and queen that she is, leaves my side and walks up to Sal again. She puts a predatory hand on his arm, fingers gripping his clothed skin. 

"Handle it," she seethes from behind clenched teeth. "Or I will."

---------

A/N:::::::: hi my sweet babies :3 I'M SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONGGGG and i hope this chapter is okay too! i've been daydreaming about it tbh, i LOVE it but i always feel like i can never fully portray my thoughts with words sooooo

so-- a couple things before i leave you guys for the night: 1.) spring break was not very restful for me so i've secluded myself to self-isolation. it's been really hard for me to even message family back. between forced proximity with the man who assaulted me and never getting a moment to rest, i've just been to myself. i apologize for that because i know many of you have been messaging me and commenting. i'll be getting back with everyone as soon as i remember that i'm in charge of my life, i pinky promise! thank you for sticking around <3 2.) i've been trying to follow you guys' recommendations! i appreciate seeing the tips you guys have for me because it prepares me for the future and helps to improve my writing. thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the help! that being said, one of the things i'm trying to do is limit the amount of detail i put into certain things. too much detail gets boring, so i'm trying to drive away from that. because of this, i feel like the chapter might be lacking. so, to further my own progress, please let me know how you liked the chapter AND tell me something i can do better!! thank you >.<

anyway, i've been fucking FLYING through the ACOTAR series lately. i'm on the second to last book and close to sobbing over it :,) but it has kept me very sane these days so definitely go give miss Sarah J. Maas a shot if you haven't yet!!

i feel like there's more i want to say but i can't remember??? i'll just put it in the comments if i do remember~ ANYWAY!!! thank you all for the support, the love, and your presence. i love you all so infinitesimally much and i am eternally grateful for you. have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night! MWAH <3333

[transmutationisms]

sorry if uve gotten this ask before but in ur opinion how do u think shiv’s (and tom’s) ending fits into the general themes/arguments of the show and her characterization? ive seen a lot of split opinions about it

my opinion is that the build-up to shiv's decision in the boardroom was shortchanged in the editing, and the moment is consequently cheapened a bit. but the decision itself is good character writing and shiv and tom's ending is very strong writing in the sense that it accomplishes exactly what the creative team were aiming at. shiv is backed into a corner by the end of this season; in the boardroom, she's finally forced to choose between kendall, who from her perspective has been acting entitled to this position by virtue of birth, and tom, whom she is still married to and has been in a business-romantic relationship with. there are multiple things happening in her head when she finally votes against kendall. the main two imo are reacting against the perception that voting for him would be handing him the power over her that she's always seen as unjust and undeserved, as well as the calculation that kendall has repeatedly used his power to push her out of the highest echelons of the company, whereas with tom she might still have the smallest possible in. so, choosing tom is both shiv trying to stay in the game, and shiv trying to preserve her dignity: for her, nothing would ultimately be more humiliating than admitting defeat against her flop older brother whom she thinks has done nothing to earn this position, not even being a useful suck-up like tom. in the final shot, shiv puts her hand on top of tom's in the car, but doesn't take it: body language that indicates both a partnership and a bit of power-play. she's still in the game, or trying to be.

for tom this is a pretty hollow victory. matsson explicitly plans to use him as essentially a puppet. he also has said that he views waystar as a parts shop, meaning he's going to dismantle much/most of the company, so who even knows how much of an empire tom will still be ruling in 5 years. for matsson, tom is basically just the guy who will be answering to the board for whatever matsson does public-facing. tom has also both ruined and cemented his marriage: shiv has reasons to ally with him (both personal and professional), but will also always see him as the social striver who took over her family's company after she was screwed out of it because of matsson's misogyny.

the show has always been cynical about the possibility of actual structural change. matsson taking over may mean waystar is dismantled, but it also means a consolidation of power for him and gojo. tom getting ceo is basically because he did the best job of sucking up. this is not a show that has ever been interested in radical departure from the status quo; if anything, the underlying philosophy is that very little actually changes because people don't change on a deeper level. those who seek power and wealth will continue to do so, and power and wealth will continue to accrete largely in the hands of those who already have some.

in my communist opinion, what this narrative lacks is the larger frame that is an actually anti-capitalist analysis. to me, what makes it impossible for these people to change or for corporate power to be dismantled is the fact that everything is constrained within a capitalist system, which limits the characters' circumstances and the economic possibilities. this does not mean revolution is impossible; on the contrary, it means revolution is necessary, and is the foundational material change that will allow, among other things, the kind of psychological development that these characters can't access in their (our) universe. i'm not pretending that the show is making this argument explicitly (arguably it does occasionally implicitly), but i also think it has been pretty clearly conveyed since the end of 1x06 that this sort of bleakness is always where the narrative was going to go. there's no escape for these characters as long as capitalism (and resulting patriarchy, ableism, &c) continue to exist; since the writing has never been interested in discussing or exploring those radically alternative possibilities, this ending is tonally exactly what i would expect, and conveys the sense of entrapment that the show has always invoked.

[fairycosmos]

I'm sorry to do this bc I know you get so many ppl venting and you have your own shit to deal with and yet ppl on here constantly implicitly ask you to console them which is incredibly emotionally labour intensive. However all that being said. I found out my cat who is 9 but is very young looking and active and shows no sign of pain or suffering has large cell lymphoma (general prognosis 6-9 months) and I'm literally broken. She's my best friend. I've been through years where I've had no friends but I've always had her and she's everything to me and I've known a lot of cats who live to late teens so I had expected that for her and this has come out of nowhere and is just so soul destroying because she is my whole world and I love her so so much. she's literally saved my life (have been at the point of kms so many times but didn't for her) and now she probably wont be here next year and I don't know how to keep existing without her and I didn't know who else to tell. I really appreciate your kind and honest presence on this site it's very cleansing and healing and ik this is a parasocial thing to say/feel but you are like a friend to so many. so thanks. even just having a space to say this stuff is invaluable. You have helped and comforted and offered love and insight to so many people despite your own suffering. Much love to you, I hope the universe treats you with lots of kindness going forward.

i am so so sorry to hear this - sometimes i honestly can't believe how cruel life can be. i wish there was something tangible i could say that would make a change to what you're feeling but my experience with grief (all types of grief esp preemptive grief like what you're dealing with) has proven to me that words often ring hollow when you're going through it. i do want to offer some understanding and some comfort despite that, i just know it may be hard for you to register right now and that's alright. losing a pet is so so deeply painful and it's completely normal to be devastated and taken aback by this news - anyone would be. at the same time it sounds like your cat is deeply lucky to have you and to be loved so completely by someone. while what you're both going through is horrific, i am so glad she has you to take care of her and that she ended up having a wonderful life with you - the gift you have given her and continue to give her every day just by being her owner is huge and i hope you continue to remind yourself that as you confront there next few months. she is warm and fed and taken care of and she has the best chance of living longer with her condition bc of the care and love you continue to show her. i know this is much much easier said than done but please try to take it one day at a time and make every moment count with her - it's easy to get lost in the idea of losing her but she is still here and you still have time together, albeit not as much time as you both deserve. i can't stand how much of a gamble of luck everything seems to be and how horrible things happen to ppl and animals who truly deserve so much more - that anger, despair and incredulity still hits me day after day and i feel it very hard on your behalf rn. you have every right in the world to process that sense of feeling like your soul has been destroyed on whatever timeline works for you. as long as you continue to move forward, hour to hour or minute to minute despite it all.

are you able to talk to any friends/family about this? i only ask bc pet loss is one of the hardest things in the world to go through and i think having some sort of super system could make the days feel a little more manageable. if not, please feel free to message me and share updates, stories, vents etc about your cat and how you're doing - i lost my childhood dog a few yrs back and i do understand. it's such a heavy feeling to carry around with you all the time. i would also recommend joining a pet loss support group as another option too, bc so so many people sadly completely get what youre going through. i hope your little girl is doing OK today and that you are taking care of yourself as much as you feel able to as you process this news. if you need to break down, go to sleep, scream, punch pillows, be numb - that's alright. there's no wrong way to react to this. i just hope you give yourself some grace as you do. sending so so much love to you both - and thank you so much for the insanely kind words by the way. you didn't have to say that and it really made my night better that you did. so sorry you're in this position. X

[insomnya777]

hi. saw uh

saw you were reblogging so OUABH stuff

Did you read it??? And if so, I need your thoughts lol

oh my god i literally binged the series in two days. loved it so so so much i have soooo many thoughts

spoilers ahead for the ouabh series!!!

first of all, i had actually absolutely loved apollo up until the third book/when he took eva's memories. even when he was under the archer curse, he had this like tortured vibe that all good fairytale heroes do, i was like oh my god i'm in love. but i had seen everyone talking about how much they hated him, i was like surely he can't be that bad right..... and then behold. he was That Bad. actually started gagging every time his chapters came up lololol

evangeline — oh. my. god. i loved her so, so much. i have to admit, i didn't like her too much in the starting few chapters (mostly because i was missing scarlett from caraval 💔) but she immediately grew on me. the hopeful romantic, always having faith, being so set on what she wanted (a happy ever after), writing letters to her future self.... loved her so much.

now, of course, i've got to talk about jacks. going into this book, i hated him. i read the caraval series, like, many years ago, and i was absolutely head over heels in love with legend when i did (which apparently not everyone did????) and i never got over what jacks did to tella. again, it's been many years, forgive me if i'm getting the details wrong, but the slowing down her heart, marrying her without telling her, AND the putting her under his spell was just wayyyy too much for me. but i'm not here to talk about caraval, i'm here to talk about jacks! so i went into the books absolutely hating his guts wanting him to keel over and die. but then, somehow, i loved him by halfway through the first book. i only started to like him more and more as time went on, and by the time eva and jacks got to the hollow for the first time, i was giggling + kicking my feet at every word he said hahahah. but seriously "you have no idea what i'm feeling right now" GOD! he is soooo!!!!! and then when he goes by archer in the third book, i bet he thought he was sooo slick with that. "don't be rude, the princess asked you a question" JESUSSSS!!!!!!!!! i'm losing my mind sorry. hate his guts (affectionately now)

don't worry i won't rant about jacks all day even though i very much want to. things i wish we got more of: first of all, jacks' and lala's backstory. i need the details on how they became fates, what their lives were like as humans, et cetera. it felt so rushed! i wouldn't mind more of chaos and lala either, they were surprisingly cute. i also wanted to see more of the valors in general!!!! that plotline couldve been so good, but it felt a little rushed to me. another thing i wanted to see was more of scarlett and tella! maybe this is just personal bias speaking, but i feel like they were just mentioned once in the first book and then forgotten completely. i can see why they might've been left out, so that it's seen as a separate series that people can read with/without caraval, but they could have had a very interesting role, especially when luc showed up and pretended to be king or whatever. which brings me to my next point, luc! i really wished we saw more of him. i kept waiting for him to show up in the third book while eva's memories were gone, but he never did. and what even was that pretending to be the heir to the throne plotline? i think it could've been a little more fleshed out.

i won't complain for too long, though. the underlying theme of all these complaints is just that i wish we got more. more jacks, more valors, more vampires, everything. the series could've easily been a book longer without it feeling like it was dragging on!

tldr; amazing series. absolutely loved it. highly recommend, i'd probably rate it 4.5 stars. i didn't talk much about the things that i loved about this book, because that would be wayyyyy way way too long, but there were so many moments and aspects that were sooo incredible and well thought out! cannot wait for the next book in the caraval universe :)

[touchtranscendslanguage]

Okay, so... (sorry if this gets long again 🙈)

My favorite OC is called Lilith. She's the titular daughter in my Remus and His Daughter series. Basically she is a little/younger girl that Remus has a kind of paternal bond with in a few of my AUs (mostly just in my head, I've only actually integrated her in one other story.) She is in canon compliant AUs a creation of Remus' in the Imagination, in other AUs though, she usually is some sort of outcast like Remus and they find comfort in each other.

For this AU, I see her as an Unseelie that is not really unseelie-like and therefore literally cast out. I don't know how exactly the territories of the Seelie and Unseelie connect, I'm guessing they're in the same realm and there is a sort of border or no man's land between them.

This next part takes place before Virgil enters the picture and before Janus' capture. Remus is fighting the Unseelie, for whatever reason, at the border/ in the no man's land and gets injured (not seriously but he needs to retreat for a moment.) He ends up concealing himself in like bushes or something while his knights continue the fight and he ends up passing or zoning out, only to wake up to a young Unseelie sneaking up to him with food or herbs for his wounds. He grabs her, assuming that she's an enemy and she just... gives him her name. Like immediately, not hesitation.

Remus is stunned, asking her why she would do that, if she doesn't understand what she's just done since she looks like she's only around 12 in human years. She says she knows fully well what it means, she is a lot older than she looks though she stopped growing past being a young teenager. She lives here on the outskirts of the Unseelie territory alone, has for a long time and saw Remus being injured and just wanted to help. If giving her name was what it would take him to trust her, she didn't mind. If it means her death, she accepts that.

Remus still doesn't really know what to do but the battle is still going on, so he accepts the food/herbs she gave him, which do help him recover and tells her to hide. She does so and Remus goes back into the fray and ends up winning the battle.

Afterwards he does go home and doesn't tell anyone what happened. After a few days of thinking it over, he goes back alone to where he met her and searches for her, ending up using her name to get her attention. They talk about her situation, and she tells him that she was cast out of her family when she was about 80 since she wasn't growing anymore and just wasn't very unseelie in nature. Since then she's been hiding out here at the border, sleeping in a hollow tree and mostly sort of hibernating, her magic keeping her alive mostly.

They bond over their families not really accepting them and while Remus leaves eventually, he comes to visit her occasionally (like every few months if he can but could also be a year or two.)

This could be where it ends, the present being just that, or Remus ends up building a little hide-out for here in his fairy circle, like a little cave under a hollow tree where she lives now but that might be too personal. Remus also might have thought about claiming her but he knows that would only be more trouble for both of them...

I love the name Lillith. Fun fact: that's Moongazer's real name!

I remember that series! I've gone through all of the Dad Remus tag, it's one of my favourites! Yours is a good one, I forgot that was you!

You are correct, the main territories for the seelie and unseelie are in the same realm. They also claim different realms as part of their territories and some of them just belong to the fae in general and are essentially no man's land. Which territories belong to who changes from time to time, based on conflict and negotiations.

As a fae, Lillith would have been born with the instinctive knowledge to keep her name safe, which I think makes her giving it to Remus even more powerful. Kid or not, she knows exactly what she's doing.

Looking twelve when you're eighty is actually pretty standard for the fae.

I could see this. I could also see Remus taking her home and getting help from his family. I can't imagine him leaving a kid out there on their own. He might be able to adopt her himself, but she wouldn't be a princess. He also couldn't claim her because she's not a human or human-hybrid.

Have you considered making her a human-hybrid? It would explain why she's so different from the other unseelie and give them even more of a reason to outcast her. It would also mean Remus could claim her and I think he would.

This is really cool, I like it a lot!

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Blush

Estinien admires his lady's blush. Set post-3.3 when Estinien is still confined to Congregation and is still very weak after Nidhogg's possession. SFW.

"I'm not blushing!" Agnes yelped, covering her face.

Estinien smirked, struggling to not laugh. "Yes, you are." Her face has the prettiest blush. Pale pink to start. Then red like a rose in bloom. Then…tomato. Such a pretty tomato my Agi is. Tis a shame I’m stuck in this place. Soon, my sweetheart, I’ll be well enough to go home with you.

Still hiding her face in vain, Agnes squeezed her eyes shut. “I-I…how can I not blush when you look at me like that?! I’m just sorting your clean laundry, and you’re…LOOKING at me!!”

Slapping his knee, Estinien let out a hearty laugh. “Aye, I am looking because you’re beautiful! Beautiful sorting laundry…beautiful casting your spell over me…beautiful when you come here every morning with a smile…” He beckoned her to come sit with him on the bed. What if…she doesn’t like all this attention? Is she afraid to tell me? Afraid to disappoint me? Whatever wishes or preferences she has I’ll defer to her. She means far too much…

Agnes sat next to him, face still red, and kissed him soundly, taking his face in her small, delicate, pretty hands. Her hands are so lovely. Every ilm of her is lovely. Her voice is so sweet. Her heart is kind. That she loves me is a miracle. “You,” she gave him a quick peck. “are too much, love.” Agnes caressed his still-too-hollow cheeks (they’ll fill out eventually) and stared happily into his pale blue eyes. “I think you enjoy making me blush so.”

“Guilty. You are too adorable when you blush, too pretty for words.” Not that I even bloody have the words for it. I’m not like Aymeric, who has this shit memorized. Verses for any occasion. Verses to make people swoon. And what do I have? Naught. His hands settled on her generous waist, giving her a small squeeze. “If I am offending—”

She rolled her eyes and kissed him again. “Ser, you continue to be…” She’s kissing me again?! “Too. Much. Should I play this little game too, Estinien? Make you blush?” Fucking hells, this woman is going to be the death of me. With a little smirk, she wrinkled her nose. “You’re the sweetest and most wonderful man in the world,” Fury take me. I’m burning up. “and I can’t wait to take you to Costa del Sol and get you to fu—”

“FURY PRESERVE!” A nurse yelled as Agnes squeaked and scrambled to her feet. WHY?! WHY ARE YOU HERE? GET THE FUCK OUT! “Mistress Currai, Ser Estinien needs rest and prayers! You should know better!”

Estinien, despite a part of him telling him to be reasonable, growled. “Mistress Currai is assisting in my recovery in every way she sees fit as a master healer. Leave us!” People in the city are such judgmental assholes. Judgmental, hypocritical assholes. Not my Agi. Never my Agi. The nurse left the room in a huff. “Agi, I—”

“I can go. I don’t want any trouble for you.” Her voice was quiet, and Estinien noted that she appeared to be very nervous. “Or trouble for Aymeric.”

“Please don’t go. Please.” He rose (too quickly…shit) and wavered on his feet ever so slightly. Agnes rushed to him, now deeply concerned, wrapping an arm around his narrow waist and holding a hand.

“It’s okay. I won’t go anywhere, but you need to sit down.” Her sweet voice…the sweetest I’ve ever heard. My Agi. She guided him back to bed (twas only a few steps that I could manage!) and stood in front of him, between his open legs. Agnes hugged him tightly. Her tits are right on my head. Her big titties on my bloody head! “I’m not leaving.” She whispered, rubbing the back of his head.

His arms enveloped her thick waist. Hands just above her ass. Don’t ruin this moment! “You’re such a comfort to me. Having you here…even simply sitting at my beside or sorting laundry…fills me with joy.” Oh shit, I didn’t mean to say that aloud! She’ll think I’m a fool. A stupid fool. Estinien could feel heat rising in his own cheeks and on the tips of his ears. Shit. Fool. Fool of a man.

He then heard a giggle and felt a hand guiding on his to her bottom. “I bet this is comfortable too, no? You seem like my ass a lot.” I DO! It’s the sweetest ass I’ve ever seen! When Estinien dared to look up at her, Agnes’s face was filled with mirth. “And now you’re blushing, love. I love being here with you and taking care of you.”

She’s going to be the death of me. The way she’s looking at me right now is setting my body on fire. Sexy and sweet and kind and a bit cheeky…my Agi. Though his throat felt drier than a desert, he found some words to speak. “Good, good. After you’re done with the laundry, mayhap you could—”

“Run into the bathroom and kiss you without interruption? Good idea, love.” She giggled more then stepped away to finish sorting his laundry.

Dumbstruck, Estinien watched her fold and sort his laundry once more. A crooked smile slowly appeared on his face. My Agi. My beautiful, blushing Agi. I know not how or when, but I’ll sweep you off your feet I promise. And without Aymeric’s help!

[macethelaboratoryrat]

Finished Reading the Idiot

I'm not sure if I like it... but I also love it?? It's so interesting and complex, and I feel like even the stuff I dislike about it has a lot of meaning.

Below is a lot of rambling, so I feel like I need to put the cut here so that the post isn't too long. And since the cut is here, I can say: Spoilers for _The Idiot_ ahead!

First off: not enough Nastasya Fillipovna. It feels like she's described very frequently, by characters and the narrator in a way that demonstrates that she has a deep and interesting character. But her character choices after part one are repetitive and redundant, in a way that makes her character seem much more shallow than it was initially presented.

Secondly: Not enough Rogozhin. I love Rogozhin, he's my favorite character. He's so strange and interesting. I'm not sure I like how mysterious he is, like how he follows people around, but I think that's a personal opinion. (sidebar: everyone is taking the whole love question like it's life or death and I found that very silly *most of the time*) It seemed like he went to prison completely alone, which was really sad. There was something very lonesome about his sentence and him being sent off. There's something very lonesome about Rogozhin in general, despite his "band" of friends or whatever.

I suppose it was good for Dostoevsky to remind us that this whole time, Myshkin is not good nor morally righteous. I think him being "innocent", sickly and "cute" gave off the sense that he could do no wrong. And then he opened his mouth. First with the ranting about Catholics, which was hateful. And then he betrayed Aglaya. So it was a good reminder.

I'm so sad about the Aglaya thing. I didn't think I liked her as a character. Unlike Nastasya Fillipovna, who is presented with depth and proves to be somewhat shallow, Aglaya Ivanovna is presented as a shallow character (the pretty one, without any other virtues) and proceeds to be a very deep and complex character. The point being, I love Aglaya and I feel like she was mistreated, not only by Myshkin, but by her family as well. I don't think this is the Epanchins' fault, I think they were just trying to help and support her. I know Myshkin had better intentions, and he tried to make amends, but he was so committed to her, and he promised he was committed to her, and then essentially abandoned her at a critical moment. This was especially hard for Aglaya because she struggled with her feelings so much-- we can see that by how aloof she is, and how she constantly denies him. I don't necessarily think they should have gotten married, but the way she was treated wasn't fair. I think if Myshkin really was the pathetic little sick boy, who was unrelentingly submitted and in love with her as he presented, and as everyone thought he was, they could have been good together. I feel like we are made to believe, and the characters suggest, that prince Myshkin is shallow, hollow, and childish. In a sense, his character is merely babyish and cute, and his only weaknesses are his stupidity and his illness. But that isn't true. I don't think saying Myshkin has "a dark side" is an accurate description, but he definitely in a grown man, and a realistic human, who is flawed just as an adult man is.

Everyone seems to be running around screaming and then we have Varya and Ptitsyn. I love the normal couple who just decided they were fine being a normal couple. They're just regular people and I love that for them. Varya has such a level head with all this madness.

I thought the hedgehog bit was so funny. Of course Kolya showed up with a hedgehog, that's such a Kolya thing to do. And it wasn't even theirs. What happened to it after everything blew over? I don't know. A hedgehog.

I love Alexandra Ivanovna. She's so funny to me. She doesn't even want to get married. She's just chilling and she's so cute.

Ippolit attempted suicide and everybody said he faked it and did it for attention. That hurt my feelings.

The meaning of life... anyway

I was surprised by the murder, which seems silly in hindsight, given there's always murder. I was actually slightly disinterested through most of the main conflict, because the "who marries who?" didn't interest me. Anyway, that was sad too.

Rogozhin and Myshkin. Their interactions are so interesting. The tension between them is always so high. I love when they interact. I'm struggling to find words to describe it.

Back to Nastasya Fillipovna, I feel like they dropped a lot of her character development after part one. Even Totsky disappeared like it wasn't important.

Why does Lebedev insist that his infant child was born in lawful wedlock? No one asked him. Now it's suspicious.

I'm not sure I know what a "fancier of the female sex" is. Is that a womanizer? A male slut as it were? Because they ask Myshkin if he is one, and he says "no", and I was thinking "haha gay" or whatever. (I know that's not what he was referring to). Anyway, I just shrugged it off until the gathering at the Epanchin's where one of the guests was "a fancier of the female sex". Just wondering the difference between that and a typical heterosexual. I assume it refers to the extent... anyway, small detail, not particularly important.

Again, I wasn't necessarily invested in the tension over their romantic relationships. I haven't made it over to _The Idiot_ tumblr yet (I had tags filtered to prevent spoilers), so what I'm about to suggest is probably already there, and already well tread upon: Nastasya Fillipovna x Rogozhin x Myshkin. Yes, the three of them. I think it would be better if Aglaya stayed out of it. The three of them are a mess and I think they should be contained.

Wild how they made General Ivolgin a tragic character. That was interesting.

This one felt personal, I will say that. It definitely had things to say and... it said them. I think it reads as being very sensationalist, which makes sense because it's a commentary on sensationalism. *my interpretation. The idea of appearances, and not wanting to be "ordinary", but not wanting to be "eccentric" either. I did appreciate the "people will go out of their way to be 'not like other girls', even when they are like other girls. Case in point: Ganya" (inaccurate quote). It was also really a call-out.

I appreciate _The Idiot_, I definitely find it interesting. None of this is meant to read as "this book is bad" or "this character is bad", but more to share my opinion on reading the work and what I gleaned from it. I'll probably read it again. While I was reading it, I was having trouble concentrating, which has nothing to do with the novel itself, just that I may have missed something. I still like TBK and C&P better, because I find the topics more interesting. But yeah, still a good one.

[hoperevive]

@halofcrged sent, [GROUND]: during a moment of intense emotional stress, the sender gently takes the receiver's face in their hands to ground them until they're calmer again.

the apothecary was closed to the public while corbin was off taking care of something super secretive. since halston had no musical obligations for the next week until her next scheduled show, she was taking care of the counter for those few select clients who'd be let in regardless of whether the door was locked or not. that meant it was the perfect time to go through all the older books to see if she could find anything that would help with her idea on fae portals.

a tome written in the unseelie language was hidden in corbin's personal collection. since she'd been given permission to use whatever was in the store, the witch didn't think twice before pulling it off the shelf and setting it at the table generally used for tarot readings.

the book opened with an audible pop as something in the energy shifted. every finger tingled at the tip, crawling up her arm like an army of ants. rather than try to shake it off, though, halston tried to ride the wave of energy.

maybe she should've waited for kerrin. or, maybe she should've had corbin unlock the contents. darkness swallowed her whole and she was a five year old sitting in the middle of a ring of mushrooms again.

helloooOOooOoooo little one.....

a hiss that still haunted her nightmares was accompanied by a pair of yellow eyes in the fog. there'd bee a smile and the shine of sharp teeth beneath the moonlight. when it jumped, though, it was a hooded figure that pushed her back onto the hardwood floor of a bar she frequented. the voice was mumbled, deep, and had her heart racing. in the depths of her dream, though, she could hear the repetition of the words found in the last letter. those same yellow eyes peered out from beneath the black cotton hood, holding her down.

and halston screamed.

she jerked awake with enough force to make her stumble out of her chair. the book, candle holders, incense bowl, and several crystals all went flying when the witch accidentally grabbed onto the altar cloth to try and stop the fall she didn't even realize was happening.

if it weren't for large, warm hands engulfing both her cheeks, she probably would've started screaming.

" i'm okay, " halston whispers with a grip on both john's wrists that clearly said otherwise. her eyes flutter closed so she can try to calm her breathing. without thinking about it, her head tilts to the side as if trying to absorb more of his touch. " i'm okay. i don't know what happened. i wasn't expecting a magical lock on the stupid book, " the witch chuckle sounded as hollow as she felt just then. " but, that also tells me there could really be something in there. just need to figure out what that is. "