#not the title of the fic but I did think about it

[alt3rnata]

Going to answer them all :)

How many fics have you worked on since January? 

11 not including translations. 

2. What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year? 

Everything. This is the first time I've written anything this year since I tried to write a Dragon Age Origins fic in school (that was a long time ago). 

3. What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.) 

Xenoblade Chronicles 3. God bless Monolith studio.

4. How many fandoms did you write for this year? 

Two. The second one is a micro fandom around some black metal band albums I listened accidentally, but that was fun.  

5. What ships captured your heart? 

Oleg/Ashera (XC3) is the main one, which is funny because in my head it has nothing to do with True Love Till Death. 

6. What characters captured your heart? 

Oleg (Teach) from XC3, James Sunderland from Silent Hill 2, Lann from Pathfinders WOTR.

7. Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year? 

Yeah, see question 2. 

8. What fic meant the most to you to write? 

“Slayer and the Beast” because it was the first, and I wrote it with the best intentions, without putting anything dark into it, as I sometimes like to do.

9. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on? 

This one isn’t published yet. It’s working title is "The Element of Chaos" and it’s XC3 post-canon. 

10. What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing? 

“What You Deserve” because I had to keep some quite violent details in my head, and I was glad to finally let them go. But in the process I learned a lot of new things. Hardly anyone can guess how much is put into this text.

11. What fic was the most difficult to write? 

“The Glitch” because it was a self-challenge and I had to fully rewrite that bitch 5 or 6 times, I don’t remember… But I had some fun there as a game developer writing fic about XC3 as a game.

12. What fic was the easiest to write? 

“Intersecting Lines”. I made it to relax (and now it's my work with the most kudos). 

13. What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year? 

“Slayer and the Beast” is the longest and “Intersecting Lines” is the shortest. I tried to express my thoughts briefly and throw out everything unnecessary. Although sometimes this leads to me presenting events too truncated. 

14. What were your go-to writing songs? 

Esoterica’s “In Dreams” and Guilt Machine’s “On this perfect day” whole albums. 

15. What was the hardest fic to title? 

“It's a small world. It's a vast world.” Still not sure if it’s good. 

16. What's your favorite title of the year? 

“Slayer and the Beast”, proud of it. 

17. Share your favorite opening line 

“At first, everything is dark. It is silent, the only sound you can hear is the ticking of a clock. Then the sound of footsteps becomes audible, getting closer. A key turns in the lock. And suddenly the darkness is cut by a narrow strip of bright light, and then it grows into a rectangle as the man outside opens the door and steps inside. He closes the door behind him and flicks the switch. Let there be light.”

— "The Element of Chaos" 

18. Share your favorite ending line 

“Say hi to Rex and A. Someday we will all meet again, if you weren’t kidding... But now I have to go home. I think boys are already making breakfast.”   She gets out of the water, picks up her stuff, and takes one last look at the horizon. Then she walks barefoot down the path, humming to herself, until she disappears from sight.  In the very heart of Origin, all three hear that distant greeting. A is the one who smiles. 

— “The Glitch” 

19. Share your favorite piece of dialogue 

He loosened the noose. Ashera took a shuddering breath and coughed.    “Was it enough like me? Did you have your fun?” he asked. His own voice sounded hoarse.    “I would rate this nine out of ten,” Ashera answered when she finally caught her breath and was able to speak. Not what he expected to hear from a person he had just nearly killed. 

— “Slayer and the Beast” 

20. Share your funniest line 

Well, I have a weird concept of ‘funny’. 

“But Oleg no longer had hundreds of years of life in store for him, only a measly 150 years at most. He remembered well the feeling that had appeared immediately after the Intersection, as if time had suddenly sped up. For those races that had previously had a longer lifespan and had grown up with this knowledge, the worry that they would not have enough time for anything had become commonplace. Against this background, the carefree way in which the short-lived races of both worlds, whose lives had, on the contrary, lengthened on average, spent their time, even caused some envy.” 

— "The Element of Chaos" 

21. What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story? 

Every time when the characters just do something I did not intend for them and the story takes an unexpected turn. 

22. What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand? 

I use MS Word + I write by hand some notes, plans, timelines, etc. 

23. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year? 

I have one piece of writing that I can reread without thinking that "I could have done it better, but my skills weren't good enough." It's very satisfying.

24. Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic? 

Just re-reading it and looking at stats. 

25. How did you recharge between fics? 

I don't need to recharge, it is my leisure. I'm constantly reading other people's work, fiction and non-fiction, and I have a life to gain new impressions. 

26. Did you create fanworks other than fic? 

Nope. 

27. How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!) 

Hmm, Kinktober 2024, I guess. 

28. If this were an awards show, who would you thank? 

My audience of me, myself and I. And that one reader who left so good, thoughtful comments under “The Glitch” and appreciated my silly tech jokes and weird ideas. This made me feel that my work was worthwhile. 

29. What's left on your to-do list for 2024? 

I don’t have a plan, actually, things will be done when I have time. 

30. What would you like to write next year? 

I wish to work more on non-romantic and original things or AUs to practice working on storylines. Because I often find myself making up a storyline around a romantic line and fitting the events to it, rather than thinking them through as something independent. Of course, that doesn't mean inspiration won't take me in a completely different direction. 

A slightly revised version of last year's questions! Two ways to play: Reblog and have your followers send you numbers, or answer the whole list!

How many fics have you worked on since January?

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

What ships captured your heart?

What characters captured your heart?

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

What fic was the most difficult to write?

What fic was the easiest to write?

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

What were your go-to writing songs?

What was the hardest fic to title?

What's your favorite title of the year?

Share your favorite opening line

Share your favorite ending line

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Share your funniest line

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

How did you recharge between fics?

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

What would you like to write next year?

[hueseok]

it was always you (from the vault)

originally titled: take my breath away.

a.k.a. the original draft for my “it was always you” fic wherein naval aviator!jungkook is your cocky soon-to-be-ex-husband who won’t sign your divorce papers because he’s still in love with you lol.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 4.5k

content: fluff, semi-angst, exes to ??? | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + husband!jungkook

warning: what you’re about to read (if you do choose to read this) is an unfinished work which perhaps will forever be unfinished.

the only reason i’m posting it because i feel like it’d be a waste to let it rot in my drafts considering that i really liked how it went until the moment i stopped writing hehehehe. i’ve also thought about continuing this story but since i already have an existing naval aviator!jungkook in my masterlist, i felt like it’d be redundant to post this!

anyhow, since a lot of you showed so much love to “it was always you”, i thought it’d be nice to share this 🥹

You really hoped that flying for almost three hours and experiencing horrid turbulence during half of the trip was going to be worth it. But again, that was only the first part of the whole charade; the real challenge would begin perhaps much later, when you finally come face to face with the person that you were scheduled to meet.

As you walked inside the bar, the nerves that previously weren’t there started to crawl from your chest to your legs, making it harder to reach the counter where a vacant bar stool stood. You didn’t even know why you were suddenly nervous—although you could only guess that the sudden burst of anxiety was rooted from talking again to the most stubborn man ever to walk on earth—and you were already preparing yourself for the long conversation you were going to have with him and possibly the extended leave you’ll have to inform your boss for this trip because of his infamous stubbornness.

“____?” a familiar voice abruptly called out for you after you finished ordering a mug of beer from the barmaid, “no fucking way. It can’t be.”

You turned to your left and saw Jung Hoseok.

Spoiler: he wasn’t the person you were going to meet today, which made seeing him such a delight. You grinned immediately upon making eye contact, hopping out of your chair and exclaiming his name with the same enthusiasm he let out when he did realize it was you who he was looking at.

“Holy shit. What are you doing here?” He automatically engulfed you in a tight embrace when you initiated. You noticed that he was wearing an off duty attire, a plain black polo shirt and blue jeans, his hair kept neat and short. “Actually, scratch that—there’s only one person you should be here for.”

You bothered to smile. “Yeah. I’m guessing he didn’t tell anyone I’m visiting, huh?”

“Nope. He 100% kept it a secret because he knows that we’re going to steal you away if he spills.”

“We?” you mused. You didn’t even know that he was training with Hoseok, and now you’re discovering that Hoseok’s apparently not the only friend he has here. “How many of you that I know are training with him?”

Hoseok takes a short pause to think about it. “Hm… well, there’s me, then Yoongi and… Namjoon. That’s just about it.”

“Wow. It’s essentially the whole group again, huh?”

“Yup. I mean, we are the best of the best.” He smirked.

You playfully rolled your eyes.

“And we’ve missed you,” he added swiftly. “I’m a bit mad that your husband didn’t inform us that you’d be here—but again, I’m not surprised.”

“Sorry. I think I have myself to blame for that. I did tell him that I don’t intend to stay here for too long.”

“Why not?”

“I’m just here to make sure he signs the divorce papers.”

Hoseok nodded, thoughtful and a bit disappointed. “Is he giving you a hard time with them?”

“You can say that.” A dramatic sigh escaped you. “He insisted that if I really wanted to get his signature, I should just go here where he’s training.”

“Classic Jungkook.” He laughed, and you agreed with a snort.

He was right, this was all a Classic Jungkook move. 

Sometimes, you didn’t understand why you agreed to marry Jungkook so urgently when he asked for your hand, even after knowing that he did everything he could to ensure that he got what he wanted in the end.

Though that was just that thing, wasn’t it? He knew exactly what to do in order to get what he wanted—and at that time of his proposal, you knew it was you that he sought for.

Despite the fact that Jungkook had only been seeing you for less than a year, he was convinced that you were the love of his life. It was the reason why when he needed to be deployed for a mission, it seemed proposing was the most natural thing to do, going on about how he wanted to be reassured that when he came back for you, you were going to be there waiting for him, not only as a girlfriend, but as his wife.

And you said yes, without missing a beat, because you genuinely loved Jungkook and for you, the both of you were a match made in heaven.

By the two year mark of being a wedded couple though, just being in love with each other wasn’t enough. There were a lot of arguments, irreconcilable differences, a lot of moments wherein you wanted to abandon everything and just disappear—until you finally declared that enough was enough and you were going to file for divorce.

Of course, Jungkook didn’t want to sign them, but he did grant you a little bit of your freedom back. He did so by leaving your shared apartment on a random Thursday, only sending a text that said he was being called by the Navy for a mission he couldn’t disclose per usual, and that if you really wanted to divorce him, you’d just have to wait for him to go back.

He never returned though. Because after that mission, came a next one, and another one, until you heard that he was invited to a naval fighter weapons school in the northern part of the country, close to the seas and where he’ll be training for a few weeks among the best naval aviators in the nation. 

That’s when he decided to invite you over and say that if you wanted his signature, you’d have to be the one who’ll go to him. You initially contemplated for a long time before just going forth with his ridiculous demand. Nonetheless, you figured you were once again left with no choice because here you were now, doing exactly what he wanted to get what you exactly wanted as well.

God, who knew that contrary to how easy it was to enter this marriage, it was an absolute pain to get out of it?

“Do you know where he might be?” you asked Hoseok while taking a sip of your beer. “Or if he’s going here at least?”

“I have no clue,” Hoseok said. “Though I do know that he should have free time. We don’t have training for the rest of the day.”

“I’ll be seriously pissed if he stands me up.”

“He won’t.”

“It’s Jungkook.”

“Yeah, but you’re ____,” he said it like it was reason enough, “and Jungkook can’t resist seeing you. Especially if it’s been what? How many months have passed since you two saw each other?”

You held up six fingers, continuing to gulp down your drink in frustration. “Still, he loves to annoy the shit out of me.”

“It’s his love language.”

“Oh, I’ve been made very aware.”

Hoseok barked out a laugh. He was a huge fan of your dynamic with Jungkook; he was practically there throughout the whole journey of your relationship. As Jungkook’s weapon systems officer, the both of them were thick as thieves, which also made him the best man of the wedding—so deep inside, he wanted to believe that whatever it was that you and Jungkook were dealing with, it would be resolved soon enough.

“Well, it looks like you don’t have to wait for too long.” Hoseok toasted his glass to the direction of the entrance where the Jeon Jungkook entered, removing his aviator sunglasses and hooking it on the collar of his white shirt, worn inside a dark blue long-sleeved polo he was sporting as well.

You followed his line of vision and scowled at the sight of Jungkook. Not because you hated your husband, but because even when in the middle of finalizing a divorce, you couldn’t deny that he was too handsome for his own good.

“I think this is my cue to leave,” Hoseok added, getting off his seat. “It was nice seeing you again, ___. Let’s catch up later, yeah? I’ll conspire with Joon and Yoongi to steal you away.” He smiled mischievously and gave you a sweet chaste kiss on the cheek before walking over to Jungkook, greeting him, pointing to where you were, and then walking to another table where you guessed a bunch of other naval aviators were hanging out.

A sigh escaped you, just in time when Jungkook met your gaze.

He grinned—actually grinned—and you had to prevent your eyes from twitching to not look like some crazy person who didn’t have any self-control. So, instead of plastering the same scowl a few seconds ago for him to see, you flashed a sarcastic smile, waving your hand.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” Jungkook claimed when he was close enough, marching towards you, appearing like he was going to go for a kiss but before he could, you outstretched an arm and stopped him by literally wrapping your fingers around his neck as if you were planning to choke him to death with the gesture (which you were tempted to do).

He rolled his eyes, holding your wrist and bringing it down.

“Can’t I give you a kiss?” he retorted.

“No.”

“And Hoseok can?”

“Hoseok’s my friend.”

“I’m your husband.”

“Ex-husband.”

“Wrong. I haven’t signed any divorce papers, honey, so in the eyes of the law, I’m still very much your husband.” He quickly stole a kiss on the corner of your mouth and you allowed yourself to grimace in annoyance, glaring at him as he took Hoseok’s previous seat.

You watched him order a drink for himself and nachos for sharing. You didn’t say anything while he did all that; you just stared at him, analyzing him, trying to decipher what was going on in that head of his. You honestly had no clue what his thought process was in depriving you of the signature you wanted and then randomly agreeing to meet you again, accompanied with the condition that you’re the one who has to go to him and not the other way around.

As he reasoned, he was still in the middle of training, and he couldn’t just leave even if he wanted to and that’s why you had to make the effort to make this work (he made it clear that he didn’t want to make the effort anyway if it meant it could lead to his and yours divorce).

“How are you?” he asked once he was done ordering and you scoffed.

“Let’s not do that, Jungkook.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me that I’m not allowed to know how you’re doing too.”

“I meant the small talk. Let’s just cut to the chase.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Jungkook.”

“Alright.” He placed an arm against the counter, spinning his stool to face you. “You already know where I stand, though. I still haven’t changed my mind in wanting to work it out first.”

“What? But you told me that if I went here—”

“I would talk to you, not sign the papers,” he finished. “You didn’t really think I’d sign them just like that, right?”

Your stomach dropped.

There goes assuming that the three-hour flight to go here would be worth it.

“I did, actually.” You grumbled. “When are you giving this a rest?”

He seemed annoyed by the rhetoric question. “When are you going to stop thinking that divorce is the answer to our problem?”

“We already did couple’s therapy and that proved to be a waste of time.”

“That’s because you were stubborn and wouldn’t cooperate.”

“Oh, I’m the one who’s stubborn between the both of us? I’m the one who wouldn’t cooperate?”

“Yes.”

“No, I’m not!” You raised your hands up. “You were the one who always said some lame excuse to not attend it with me.”

“Babe, how many times do I have to tell you, my schedule isn’t—”

“Yeah, whatever.” You didn’t let him finish, knowing that he was going to say something about how being in the Navy didn’t grant him the free time you were expecting him to have.

“I’m just saying… you can’t keep on doing this, you know?” you said.

“Can’t keep doing what?”

“Prolonging this. We already broke up, Jungkook. There’s not point in staying married.”

“That’s the thing, though.” He smirked. “I can keep prolonging it.”

Your nostrils flared. “Why?”

“Because I can.”

You think flashes of red were beginning to blur your vision.

Jungkook noticed the rage building up, yet he didn’t back down. “Why are you even so eager to legally separate? Do you plan on getting married again soon?” he asked.

It was supposed to be a joke, because Jungkook didn’t actually think you were seeing anyone at the moment—but at the mention of it, he saw the manner in which your expression slightly shifted, and he narrowed his eyes at you, understanding. “Don’t bullshit me. You aren’t seeing anyone, right?”

You blinked, acting all innocent. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is. You’re still married to me.”

“We’ve broken up for almost a year now, Jungkook.” You groaned, remaining him once again. “If you just signed the goddamn papers, all of this would be out of your hands.”

He scoffed. “You are seeing someone?”

“That is not the point of our conversation.”

“Well, it’s a significant aspect of it.”

“Fine.” You huffed. “I am seeing someone. Happy?”

Jungkook was in fact not happy. He was angry, but then he thought of how he shouldn’t be, because you and him have broken up for almost a year now like you said. Even though he wasn’t in support of that notion, he remembered at least granting you enough freedom to feel like you could date around without thinking about how you were technically cheating on him if ever you did. 

However, he didn’t really think you would find someone. Sure, you were beautiful, you had an amazing personality, there was no question when it came to you attracting men, yet you could be picky most of the time. It was even a miracle how he managed to bag you; though he guessed that he didn’t really have to try that hard in the first place before because the two of you just had so much in common for you to ignore.

“What’s his name?” he asked after a long silence.

You crossed your arms. “Do you have to know?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” You adjusted yourself in your seat. “It’s Ben.”

Jungkook thought the name sounded stupid. “How long have you been dating him?”

You hesitated, already predicting how he was going to react that you almost exaggerated the answer, but decided against it last minute. “Five weeks.”

He suddenly burst out laughing, the sound echoing inside the bar; it was the exact type of response you were positive he was going to do, proof that you knew him too well and that you shouldn’t have changed your pretense in the first place.

“It’s not funny,” you hissed, noticing that a lot of people were glancing at where you were both situated. “What the hell is funny about what I said?”

“You want to divorce me for a guy you’ve been dating for five weeks?” He carried on snickering; he barely got the whole sentence out because he was too busy catching his breath.

“Of course not! I would just prefer it if I don’t have any baggage left before attempting to commit to another relationship.”

The barmaid came back with Jungkook’s beer and nachos. He thanked her and slid the basket of cheesy nachos to your direction, an offer that you could get a piece if you wanted. However you were neither hungry nor interested in getting anything from him that would elicit a thank you from you, too prideful at this point due to how annoying he was being.

“What does he do for a living?” he asked next.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to make fun of it.”

“Is it worth making fun of?”

“No.”

“Then just tell me.” He threw a chip inside his mouth. 

You pressed your lips together. “He’s a bank clerk.”

Jungkook didn’t laugh this time, but the corners of his mouth were twitching as he grinned, and you found yourself refraining from wanting to strangle him again, questioning why you thought it was a good idea to come here since it was obvious that talking to him properly was an impossible task.

“You’re dating a bank clerk?” he posed the question like it was the most preposterous thing he had heard from you today. “What the hell do the both of you have in common?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll have you know that Ben is a very nice guy.”

“That’s what ladies say when a man is horrible in bed.”

“That’s not true.”

“Is he good then?”

“That’s none of your business, Jungkook,” you uttered once more, teeth gritting. “Besides, it’s only been five weeks.”

He smirked. “That’s a no then. It seems that you haven’t slept with him,” he said. “Makes sense. I mean, if you have already slept with another guy, you might be already begging me to get back together. Given that I’m the best sex you’ve ever had.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “How the fuck are you always so arrogant?”

“It comes with the praise I usually get during my escapades, babe.” Jungkook winked at you, hand reaching out for another nacho.

“Oh, so I’m assuming you do have sex with other people now. You know, if you’ve just divorced me, you can go live your happy single life again to go to that without any worries.”

“I don’t sleep with other people—”

“But you just said—”

“I meant before I met you.” He pointed out, giving you a look. “Why are you even thinking about that? Are you jealous?”

“God, you’re fucking impossible.” You practically growled. 

He flashed you another smirk, amused.

“Anyhow,” you began, bringing out the divorce papers from your bag that you should have given him the second you saw him, but as what you think was part of his plan, he did manage to stall you in doing so, “here’s the papers.” You shoved it to his chest, rendering Jungkook no choice but to grab it.

He glanced down at them. “You’re never going to stop until I sign these, huh?”

You nodded. “Never.”

“Fine.” Jungkook flickered his gaze on you. “I’ll sign them.”

You glared at him. “Be serious.”

“I am serious.”

“Are you?”

You were still suspicious, but at the same time, you had high hopes.

“Yes. But I need to meet Ben the bank clerk first.”

Your spirits dropped. “Oh, no, no, no,” you made a huge cross sign with your arms, “you are not giving me another condition just to go against your word in the end.”

“I won’t this time.”

“Yeah, right.” You scoffed loudly.

It was his turn to narrow his eyes at you. “I’m serious. You want my signature or not?”

You bit the insides of your cheeks, gazing at him.

You were no fool, you knew why he wanted to meet him; you knew that it was because he wanted to see it for himself if the guy you replaced him for was actually more good looking than him or at least appeared as if he could survive a fistfight if Jungkook prompted to start one. It was all testosterone and ego, and you contemplated cutting his balls just to get this over with once and for all.

Surely, by then, he would be more agreeable.

“Fine,” you told him. “If you meet him, you’ll sign the papers? Promise?”

He took a sip of his beer, shrugging. “Sure.”

***

Jungkook watched the scene unfold in front of him with an amused expression.

Although he did admit it once that he did get a bit jealous whenever you gave the other guys more attention than him, he loved his best pals too much to care.

It was why he allowed instances like this to happen wherein you made it apparent that you valued their company much more than you did Jungkook. It was evident in the manner in which you laughed loudly as Hoseok, Yoongi, and Namjoon hugged you, each one of them taking turns in lifting your body off the ground a few seconds in glee.

You were seen as a beloved sister to them as they saw Jungkook as a cherished brother in the Navy.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Jungkook reckoned after five seconds.

Namjoon glanced at him, the last one to embrace you. “Jealous?” he teased, reading his mind.

“I am, actually.” Jungkook affirmed. “You three got a better greeting than I did.”

You rolled your eyes at the pettiness of his comment. “That’s because there’s nothing good about seeing you again, Jungkook.”

Jungkook glanced at you. “You wound me, babe.” He placed a dramatic hand on his chest. “Truly, you do.”

The guys stifled a laugh.

Today’s agenda was supposed to be a catch up session with the three guys. News spread quickly yesterday that you were in town thanks to Hoseok, and given that the three of them were good friends of yours, you didn’t decline the offer when Jungkook informed you that they wanted to meet you while you were here.

So, as the next day came in and the evening rolled, they met up with you at the same resto-bar Hoseok found you in. It did seem like the only venue that was both near enough from the academy and the hotel you were staying at that offered adequate food. You observed that the occupants of the place were composed primarily of people wearing naval aviator uniforms or motorcyclists stopping by before going forth with their ride.

“So,” Yoongi began just as Jungkook headed to the counter, volunteering to relay all of your orders to the barmaid, “we heard from a little birdie that you’re seeing someone else.”

You gave him a look. “Still a big gossip, I see.”

“Oh, it’s not counted as gossip if it’s what Jungkook’s been complaining about the whole time at the showers,” Namjoon humored.

Hoseok agreed with a nod. “It’s what he’s been nonstop yapping about earlier when we were flying,” he said. “Seriously, ____. Release the boy from misery and just get back together.”

They watched you grimace. “You all know my relationship with Jungkook has been long complicated for it to be as easy as that.”

“Did he cheat on you?” Namjoon asked.

“No, of course not.” You scoffed. “He’s an annoying shit for the most part but he’s not a cheater.”

He physically relaxed at the confirmation. “Good, because I don’t think I can beat him in a fistfight.”

Yoongi chuckled. “What’s the matter then? You still haven’t spared us any details on why you’re so keen to divorce him.”

“There’s no particular reason,” you sighed with a throw of your hand. “It’s just a compilation of the small things. He’s away most of the time, I’m away most of the time when he’s available—we fight a lot, argue a lot, it just doesn’t seem to be worth fighting for anymore.”

“So, you don’t love him anymore?”

“I…” you trailed, abruptly feeling like you were being interrogated, “I mean, love doesn’t go away easily. And it hasn’t been that long since we called it quits.”

The three men shared a look among themselves.

You straighten your posture. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What does?” Hoseok queried.

“That look you guys just gave each other. I don’t like it.”

“That’s just their faces, babe,” Jungkook reappeared, taking the liberty to take the seat on your right. “What are you fellas talking about?” he asked his buddies.

They didn’t dare utter a word. You were under the impression that they had an understanding between them that talking about your relationship right in Jungkook’s face was something one should not ought to do.

You, on the other hand, took it as your cue to speak, starting another topic to hopefully erase the previous one. “Ben said he can come. He’s boarding tonight,” you told Jungkook as he’s sipping from his glass of service water.

“That’s good.” He didn’t look as interested as he was yesterday.

“Who’s Ben?” It was Hoseok again.

“The bank clerk,” Jungkook answered.

“The new guy you’re seeing?” Yoongi asked you.

“Yep,” you said before turning to Jungkook. “And can you please refer to him by his name? He’s not just a bank clerk.”

“Is he a boring bank clerk?” Jungkook asked, that teasing smirk flashing on his mouth.

“Will he be here tomorrow?” Namjoon chimed in.

You nodded. “Hopefully.”

“Great,” Jungkook placed his glass down on the table. “It’ll be enough time to get to know him.”

He said ‘enough time’ like his time was limited because it really was. He informed you before you parted ways yesterday that he was graduating from the academy this Friday, and that after that, he was almost 100% sure he was going to be deployed again with some of his classmates for a mission that you wouldn’t be allowed to know the details of. 

Your stomach somersaulted when he told you that.

Somehow, despite convincing yourself that you no longer cared for Jungkook, the thought of his life being put at risk again once he was back on the field made you want to vomit in anxiety. It reminded you that his very dangerous occupation was one of the root causes of your separation, for there were months wherein you couldn’t take the fear of waiting in uncertainty on whether he was going to come home to you or not, regardless of how he promised he would every single time.

It was funny, you thought. One of your similarities with your husband was that the both of you were adrenaline junkies. You and him bonded over extreme rides in amusement parks, activities that got your heart pumping and gave you the sensation of being on top of the world—and yet it was the reason why you didn’t want to be with him anymore as well, too scared to continue loving him if he always sought for adventure and danger through being a naval aviator.

“You knew what you were signing up for, ____,” he told you during one of your many arguments. “You entered this relationship knowing the nature of my job. You can’t expect to adjust for you when it comes to—”

“I’m not expecting you to adjust for me, Kook,” you replied in exasperation, practically begging him to listen to you with an open mind at that point. “God, I just want you to consider me. I just want to feel that for once, you actually remember that someone’s always waiting for you to come home.”

Whenever conversations like that popped back inside your memory, you forced yourself to push it away. It wasn’t an experience you wanted to relive. You’ve spent far too many nights just crying because of how it felt like to be in a constant state of worry for the person you found yourself loving the most.

“We can all meet him, right?” asked Hoseok, looking at the other guys for back up. 

You surveyed them, raising your eyebrows before saying your answer.

“Like the hell you would.”

[weemssapphic]

Split in half

Larissa Weems x f!reader

This is a part two to We're not who we used to be set a few months after that fic, from Larissa's POV. It's just as angsty as part one, maybe even worse. It's inspired by the song Stick Season by Noah Kahan. Enjoy 😅

Words: ~1.5k | ao3 link in title

And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas And I'll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose Now you're tire tracks and one pair of shoes And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

-

“Ow - fuck!”

It takes Larissa’s eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness blanketing her quarters. She steadies herself against the little table by the door and squints at the floor as she searches for whatever she’s just tripped over that caused her to ram her hip into the corner of said table. 

Now she remembers - she’d changed her mind about her heels that morning and left the initial pair next to the door. She sighs and kicks off the heels she’s wearing now, leaving them lying haphazardly next to the others.

She walks towards the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the light now that her eyes have adjusted to the darkness. Pain blooms in her hip, growing sharper with each step - she can already feel the deep purple bruise forming across her hip bone. She opens the fridge and stoops down, the bright, fluorescent glow shooting straight through her eyeballs into her already throbbing skull, making her eyes water. The fridge is nearly empty and Larissa groans in frustration as she closes its door and blindly reaches for the cabinets above the stove instead, running her fingertips across the smooth, familiar wood as her eyes adjust again.

Her fingers bump into the little brass handle and she opens the cabinet, pulling out the first bottle she finds. Whiskey. She opens another cabinet and takes out a crystal tumbler, then pads across her quarters to her little balcony, clutching both bottle and tumbler to her chest. 

A chill seeps through her stockings and straight into her bones as she steps outside, and she grits her teeth as she lowers herself onto the oversized pillow she’d taken out here when she first started spending her evenings after work out on the balcony. 

It’s a lot colder tonight than it was those weeks - or has it been months? - ago. Fall is as good as over, the trees barren of their gorgeous red and orange foliage, but winter hasn’t fully started yet either, the first snowfall having yet to make an appearance.

Larissa pours some of the amber liquid into the tumbler, raising it to her lips and tossing it back in one go. It burns her throat and the swift motion smudges her lipstick, not that that matters. It warms her a little from the inside, so she pours herself another.

She supposes she could do something productive, or at least try to distract herself, but there’s not really a point - she can’t read books or watch films or even knit without spending the entire time trying to reign in her wandering thoughts. Even her work is suffering as a result.

She should’ve seen it coming, really, you leaving her. After all, she thinks bitterly, as her thoughts once again hone in on you, she had been rather absent in your marriage. Even when you told her you were moving out, that you were done trying, she could hardly wrap her head around it. Hardly believe it was actually over.

On the day you’d left, she’d woken up to a horribly loud rummaging in the closet. It was a Sunday, and she remembered the pang of irritation that mixed with her confusion, the frustration that you’d woken her early on the only day she ever slept in. She’d remembered readying herself to berate you, tasting the words on her sharp tongue as she’d pushed herself up onto her elbow - the words dying just as quickly as they’d come when her sleep-filled eyes were met with the sight of your half-full suitcase (the big one, the one you used for longer vacations) on the floor in front of the walk-in. 

Between stuffing everything from your underwear to a few framed photos into the suitcase, you’d explained your reasoning rather coolly for someone who usually wore her heart on her sleeve and cried at even comedy films - it had unsettled Larissa to see you so casual about leaving. Perhaps it was due to this that she didn’t say much. She didn’t say any of the things she should have said, any of the things you might’ve hoped she’d say or the things she wishes today that she had said. She’d watched you pack, nodding along to whatever you were saying about divorce lawyers - divorce? - and robotically seeing you to the door. 

Your tires had screeched a bit on your way down the driveway - the sound rings in Larissa’s ear as she tosses back another tumbler of whiskey.

Everything had passed so quickly after that, weeks and months blurring together. She’d signed the divorce papers in what she can, in hindsight, only describe as a fugue-like state, not realizing until much later the full consequences of her actions. And ‘much later’, apparently, translated into ‘too late’.

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad No, I am no longer funny, 'cause I miss the way you laugh You once called me forever, now you still can't call me back

One tumbler turns into two turns into three, and then she’s abandoned the glass in favor of drinking straight from the bottle. She pulls her phone out of the pocket of her blazer, scrolling to your contact as if on autopilot and staring at it as if it would suddenly come to life.

You’d forgotten an old pair of sneakers at the back of the closet. She’d told you when you’d stopped by with the divorce papers, and you’d told her to just throw them out.

Just throw them out.

It should be so easy. They’re dirty and they stink and the sole is peeling off on the right one. Every time Larissa sees them, she picks them up and wills herself to walk straight to the trash bin. She picks them up - then puts them right back, next to her own rarely-used running shoes.

Larissa clicks ‘call’. She lifts the phone to her ear as she waits, taking another gulp of whiskey. It doesn’t burn anymore.

Her throat gets tighter with every ring, a thin film of tears beginning to blur her eyes. After a few long minutes, the call goes to your voicemail - which is full - and Larissa’s tears spill over, clinging to her lashes before racing each other down her cheeks.

“Pick up, goddamnit!” she growls, her voice hoarse and wet. She tosses her phone angrily onto the floor beside her, not caring if it gets scratched.

There was a time when you’d have picked up the phone in the middle of a packed movie theater if it was her calling - now she hasn’t been able to get ahold of you since the divorce was finalized. It’s at least half her fault, she supposes, but she’s still angry at you for ignoring her. For leaving her. Even if she seemed intent on driving you away.

It’s getting late. Larissa knows this not because she’s checked the time, or because the moon is already high in the night sky, but because time always manages to slip away from her when she’s sitting out here, and because her ass is numb and her knees hurt from sitting in one position for so long. 

She pushes herself up, a bit shaky on her feet, nearly stumbling then steadying herself against the railing of the balcony. She bends, stumbling again, grabs the whiskey bottle by the neck, fumbles with the tumbler, then makes her way into her quarters, leaving her phone on the floor and the balcony door open behind her. It’s been so drafty in her quarters lately.

The bottle of whiskey is placed on the counter and, as Larissa goes to place the tumbler into the sink to be washed, it slips and shatters, shards of glass flying everywhere. She feels the warmth of her own blood on her finger before she feels the sting of the cut.

“Fuck!” 

A little bit of moonlight is streaming into the kitchen, and Larissa raises her finger into the light and stares at it, watching blood form a large bead on her fingertip, then slowly trickle down towards her hand. She sucks her finger between her lips, trying to stem the flow of blood. The metallic taste mixes with the whiskey on her tongue and, as she stands there in the darkness of her kitchen, she suddenly feels tired, so unbelievably tired.

She wants to call you again. She wants to tell your full voicemail box to go fuck itself, all she wants is to hear your voice. It’s all she wants yet it’s all she can’t do. 

-

And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

x

Taglist: @alexusonfire @pro-weems-places @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69  @fictionalized-lesbian @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @http-sam @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @niceminipotato @thevillagegay @barbarasstar @lilfartbox1 @dovesintherain @fallenbutch @lunala-rose23 @ahauandthesun @thenazwife @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @thesamesweetie @theonefairygodmother @lvinhs @rainbow-hedgehog @daydream-cement @im-a-carnivorous-plant @milfomaniac @ilovetlcc @lesbiahonest24 @wastdstime @gwens0girl @larissa-weems-chokehold @makemyworldworthliving @spacetoaim22 @m1lflov3rrr @nightingalespen @jadewolf22 @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @gwens-wife

[bluecanvasshoe]

Obstacles

platonic!Marauders x hufflepuff!fem!reader

(image from: crimsoncloverhoney on Pinterest) Summary: You remake old memories with the Marauders, and sparklers are, for once, used correctly in their vicinity.

warnings: not beta read... other than that, nothing, really!

content: fluff, takes place during their fifth year, hints of Wolfstar

word count: 2k

a/n: My first Harry Potter/Marauders fic!!!! wowie!!!! This one was fun to write, and I hope I didn't make everyone too out of character!

title from the song Obstacles by Syd Matters

---

It was evening, and dinner ended about an hour ago. You left the Hufflepuff barrel and joined the Marauders in the Gryffindor common room soon after changing out of your uniform.

“I’m telling you guys, Lily fancies me! She didn’t roll her eyes when she saw me, that’s progress!” James said, his hands moving frantically for emphasis as he sat straight on the sofa.

Sirius scoffed from where he was lying with his head leaning on Remus’ shoulder. “Oh yeah, what did she do, scowl instead? Tell you to leave her alone?” 

James faltered at that, falling back into the cushions behind him. 

“Maybe- maybe you’re right, James. Maybe she’s not as annoyed by you,” you interjected, looking up from the game of wizard’s chess you were playing with Peter. The two of you sat opposite of each other, sitting in front of the fireplace.

He perked up at that, extending a hand in your direction. “See!? She agrees with me! And she’s a girl! She’d know more about Lily than I would!”

Sirius hummed, “She’s a Hufflepuff; that’s the people-pleaser house.”

“I mean it,” you insisted, watching as your opponent contemplated his move.

Peter glanced at James after he clicked his button on the timer, his head resting on one of his hands. “Prongs, you sound a bit loony right now.” 

“Loony!?” James shrieked, mouth wide open and glasses catching the light of the fire. Peter simply shrugged, looking back to the game once you’d made a move.

“Please, everyone, stop shouting…” Remus groaned, eyeing everyone with exasperation. “I’m trying to read this book, and it’s very hard to follow when you’re all bickering like first years.”

You sat up, looking over to Remus. “What book are you reading?”

“The Idiot.”

You nodded, humming. “What part are you at?”

He marked the page before closing the paperback book and setting it aside. “The part when Kolya reads the newspaper to the Prince, the nihilists, and… the others in the room. At the dacha, I think?”

With a grimace, you looked back to the game of chess. “Yeah, that part’s odd. I was so confused when-" 

"God, you swots.” Sirius interrupted, lolling his head back onto Remus’ shoulder. “I’m so bored.” He whined with a dramatic frown, kicking his legs petulantly.

“Well, what do you suggest we do?” The boy Sirius had leaned his weight on asked, watching the game of wizard’s chess in front of them. 

Sirius grinned, sitting up and crossing his legs in his lap. “Well, I found sparklers-” “We are not doing a prank right now.” Remus interrupted, turning to the dark-haired boy. Sirius sputtered, mouth agape. “Why not!? Moony, come on!”

James had a similar reaction, his eyes wide and jaw dropped. “Moons-” 

“No.”

“Why does everyone hate me today!?” James lamented, dramatically falling back onto the couch.

“No one’s awake and wandering the halls except for prefects, dumbass.” Peter muttered, “Bishop to D5.” You cursed under your breath, watching as he clicked the timer on his end and your clock began to count down.

“There are more uses to sparklers than causing chaos,” Remus suggested, stretching his arms with a pop that Peter grimaced at. “And we have more time to carry out a prank tomorrow, anyways.”

Sirius sighed, an expression of boredom on his face as he gestured for the werewolf to continue. “Well… we could just use them as intended. Light them up, or something.”

“That’s so boring!” Both James and Sirius exclaimed, looking at each other and stretching to the other couch to make the loudest, most painful-sounding high-five ever in response to their in-sync whining. They proceeded to keep high-fiving until they both deemed it satisfactory, receiving a fond eye roll from Remus and a hum from you.

“Back at home, my old muggle primary school friends and I would light sparklers at the lake and look at the stars. We could do that,” you commented, clicking the timer and allowing Peter to make a move. The sound of Sirius and James cheering and saying ‘again, again,’ repeated in the background.

Remus nodded, shifting to stand up. “Come on then, James. Get your invisibility cloak,” He prompted the bespectacled boy, causing him to look at Remus with a smile. 

He left Sirius after one more high-five, practically leaping up from the couch and running upstairs, nearly slipping on the hardwood steps. He returned just a few seconds later with the cloak in hand. “So, why did you want it?”

“We’re going to the Black Lake,” Remus said decidedly, shifting his weight onto his right leg when his left hip began to hurt. Sirius, noticing the change in his demeanor, stood up and placed a gentle hand on his back.

You and Peter looked at each other, shrugging before resetting the game. You extended a hand, “I was bound to lose, anyway. Good game.” Peter shook your hand, smiling. “Good game.”

With that, you and the Marauders gathered by the entrance to the common room, watching as Sirius ran off to fetch the muggle sparklers. He returned not long after he left, looking to the stairway to make sure no one was around before giving the okay. James unraveled the cloak and draped it over the five of you.

–

The air was chilly when you made it outside, typical of a fall evening. The sun set a while ago, and the stars just came out. Thankfully, everyone was dressed in jumpers; to say everyone was wearing their rightful jumper would be a stretch, though.

Once making it to the Black Lake, James abandoned the cloak by a large tree, looking up at the sky as Sirius pulled out the pack of sparklers. Remus fished out an old, rusty lighter from his pocket. 

“Come now children, gather round!” Sirius exclaimed, holding out a few sparklers and handing them out to you, James, Remus, and Peter.

Remus helped light them all, sparks, as the name suggests, flying from the rods.

You all stood in a circle, the sparklers creating a warm glow in the otherwise dark, cold atmosphere of the lake. Everyone’s faces, all rosy cheeks and large smiles, were illuminated by light.

James and Sirius were by far the most entertained by the things, waving them around. You admired the glow and crackle of them, the smell familiar as you took in the scene around you. It felt homey, familiar. You hadn’t spoken with those friends that you first did this with in years, and yet it hardly bothered you as you enjoyed remaking those memories with the Marauders.

You and the others slowly drifted to the shore, James and Sirius shrieking as the flames grew close to their fingers. “My hands are gonna get burnt off!” James cried dramatically, waving it around. 

The long-haired boy laughed, throwing the sparkler that was swiftly burning down to his fingers out into the water. It hissed, little sparks flying as it immediately snuffed out. “Oi, did you hear that!?” 

“What? Is something wrong?” Remus asked from his spot on the ground beside you, noticing Sirius’ lack of a sparkler as he took his eyes away from the sky. He had put his out not long ago, attention turning to the stars.

“The sound it made when it went out!” Sirius replied, causing James to turn to him and Remus to sigh with relief. 

“What? What sound? I wanna try!” James promptly dipped the sparkler into the calm, glass-like water of the Black Lake, gasping when it hissed and the sparks ceased. “Oh, that is wicked!” the boy grinned, fetching another sparkler and holding it out towards Remus. The group’s designated sparkler lighter walked over, holding out the flame to it again.

Meanwhile, you and Peter talked about stories from non-Hogwarts schools or summer breaks.

“My third-grade teacher was awful. She yelled at me for getting a bad mark on a quiz, and then made me redo it without telling me what I did wrong… I got the same mark.” You explained, dragging the end of the snuffed-out sparkler in the sand to make various little drawings and patterns.

“I was homeschooled, but I went to a summer camp program a few times. A kid called me brick-like in nature.”

You snorted with wide eyes, a hand over your mouth. “What? That- I’m so sorry, that’s not funny.” You apologized through poorly concealed laughter, Peter joining you soon after. 

“No, it’s funny. Besides, it happened when I was, like, twelve.” The blonde-haired boy reassured, admiring the moon’s reflection on the lake.

Your discussion was interrupted when Sirius suddenly shrieked. You both whipped your heads to where the sound originated from, watching as James chased Sirius with a sparkler. 

“My hair! You’re gonna catch my hair on fire!”

“Good! I’ve had enough of it, your hair gets everywhere in the dorm!” James shouted back, though the chase abruptly ended when he tripped over his own feet, face-planting onto the ground. The sparkler fell from his hands, snuffed out after it landed in the sand.

You all burst into laughter, Sirius turning around and guffawing with a hand over his mouth. “Mate, are you alright?” He snickered, crouching down. James looked up, taking Sirius’ hand and standing again with his help. “I’m fine,” the boy replied, though embarrassment laced his tone.

“Merlin, stop chasing each other around and look at the stars,” Peter interjected, gesturing to the sky. “You’re far less likely to trip and die this way.”

“Fine, fine.” James put his hands up, strutting over with Sirius following close behind. 

They sat down beside Remus, lying on their backs. You, Peter, and the scar-covered boy followed, getting comfortable on the ground below you.

You rested your hands on your stomach, listening to the gentle wind and admiring the cosmos above you and the group.

Sirius shuffled a little closer to Remus, worming his arm underneath the other boy’s head as support. Remus received the gesture with an affectionate smile, the muscles of his shoulders and neck no longer aching.

James adjusted his glasses, taking them off and wiping their lenses with the hem of his jumper before placing them onto his face again.

For once, the group quieted. 

You weren’t always around the Marauders. You met the group on the second day of your first year, swiftly growing to trust and be trusted by them. However, you were in a different house and had your own group of friends which you loved greatly.

If there was one thing you knew, the pranksters were a rambunctious group. There were very few scenarios in which the words were taken from their mouths, and you were glad to be there for one of them.

“...there was a slim chance I was to be allowed into Hogwarts,” Remus suddenly interjected, his voice soft. “Werewolves aren’t really allowed in these spaces. I’m so glad I was, though. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it weren’t for all of you. Everything has felt easier since I met you lot.”

The rest of you collectively awed, smiling.

You couldn’t see it in the dark, but Sirius shuffled a little closer to Remus.

“Aw, Moony,” James said, a large grin evident in his tone. “You too, Moons. I’m happy we’ve all stuck together.”

Even if you weren’t an official Marauder, you still felt your heart warm in your chest and a giddy smile overtake your face.

As a muggle-born, the chances were slim for you, too. But a little part of you knew that, even if you were born a muggle, you would've found them somehow. To know you belonged in something so tight-knit as the Marauders felt like a little more than just a happy accident, and you like to believe they thought so, too.

So, you all lay under the stars until your eyes drooped, and you walked up to your common rooms. That night, sleeping soundly amongst your Hufflepuff friends and roommates, you felt safe in the knowledge that you’d always belong somewhere.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 31

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: The Feyguard

Notes: 

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  31/47

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When morning came you had barely slept. Percival had kept questioning you on what he had seen between you and Lancelot, and the worst part was that you barely had any answers. What was it? It was a kiss. Why? You couldn’t provide an answer other than telling him that you and Lancelot had wanted to do that. When the boy finally got bored of the dull answers, he fell asleep. Whilst you were left awake and having to deal with your worries and thoughts in silence. ‘Why?’ It was indeed a good question the boy had sought an answer for, you did so too. Why had he kissed you? You had sensed the desire in him back when he was with the paladins, but he had always held back from crossing that line. One thing was for certain, the attraction was mutual and you had no regrets about kissing him back. There had not been a chance to speak to him alone since dawn, Gawain insisted to visit the village’s healer just at dawn before the village would become more crowded later in the day.

The healer indeed recognized Gawain and welcomed him as if they were old friends. Of course the knight had to quietly explain the presence of the former Weeping Monk, it was perhaps fortunate that the healer was Manblood. The four of you were let into the healer’s house. Gawain was the first who let the healer inspect the injuries he had obtained by the paladins, and by the sellswords at Morrowstead. After only a few minutes Gawain walked out of the other room and quietly mentioned how Nimue’s healing had healed him so well that only scars were left, and the bruises he had obtained from the sellswords were not bad enough to use salve on them.

“Who is next?” The healer looked between you, Lancelot and Percival.

“Percival?” you looked at the boy, he shook his head.

Lancelot put a hand on Percival’s shoulder and steered him into the room to be inspected, aware that the boy sometimes lost that brave side of him in moments such as these.

Gawain took the moment of privacy to ask you a burning question, “You and the Ash Man?”

Right away you knew what he was trying to learn about. “It hasn’t happened before.”

“Will it again?” he was forward about it.

Even to you, that was a mystery. “I would not be against it.”

Gawain sounded somewhat worried, “You are aware that he lived as a monk? Such matters are not what they usually allow.”

Did he think you started this? “He kissed me, Gawain. I did not initiate.”

“Not surprising.” he stated.

“How so?” you asked.

Again the knight was not shy to voice his opinion. “I have seen how he observes you much like a meal after a weeks long fast. He lets his eyes linger on you like a shadow.”

That was not the sort of thing you expected to hear, he was far more open and forward about a lot of things. The door opened again and Lancelot held it open for Percival to walk out, it looked like the boy had been given a small sweet to eat and he was very happy with that.

“All is well.” Lancelot informed you and Gawain. “He is of good health and strong.” He gave a nod your way, “Your turn?”

A bit nervous, you walked past him and into the room with the healer. The man was friendly enough and seemed to sense your uncertainty.

“Take a seat.” The healer patted his hand on a wooden bench that was covered with brown leather. “I don’t bite.”

It was obvious that the healer was used to people being somewhat nervous to see him, he couldn’t have been much older than Gawain, younger even perhaps. The last thing you expected was Lancelot closing the door and staying in the room as well.

You looked back at Lancelot. “What is it?”

His answer was vague on purpose, “I shall remain here, to ensure all is well.”

The true answer was already clear to you, he feared that the healer would behave improper towards you. “It is alright. He’s a healer. You have visited healers too haven’t you? You must have bared your torso for them to help.”

He shook his head a bit, refusing to trust a healer that he had only just met. “It is not the same.”

You stayed calm, knowing that this was just him being concerned over your safety. “How is it different?”

While awaiting his answer, you took off your jacket and draped it over a chair. Then began taking off the bodice. For you a visit to a healer was nothing new, the healer of Ravenwick had seen you so many times behind Aldith and Cassian’s back. And if the Green Knight trusted this healer, you saw no reason not to.

He fell over his words, “You’re… you have…”

“Yes?” You knew what he wanted to say, and you were all too curious to see if he could bring himself to say it out loud. It would mean a step forward in breaking out of his timid shell. When you didn’t stop undoing the bodice he approached and half-circled you, his signal for the healer to step back without even having to say a word to the poor man.

“Lancelot.” your arms fell at your sides, a hint of frustration in your tone.

He was not comfortable to let you be in a room alone, vulnerable, with the healer. “It is not the same.”

You brought your voice down to a whisper. “You’re right, it is not. But I know that if I need you, you will be right outside that door for me. I wish for the healer to see to my health and he won’t be able to do that properly if he feels afraid to even look at me with you present. Please, Lancelot, wait outside for me.”

He rolled his jaw, then bowed his head in surrender. “I will.”

It still took two long seconds before he went to move past you and to the door, you quickly captured his arm halting him. “Thank you.”

He tilted his head respectfully and left the room.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  The healer had been kind and careful, he did question where you obtained all those small scars littered across your back. Some were caused by steel, some by wood, but all were the result of Aldith’s and Cassian’s rage. The healer had cleaned the wound on your arm, applied a soothing salve that cooled the burning sensation down and then put fresh bandages on it. The largest bruises on your back had finally healed, there were some fresh smaller ones from Morrowstead. Most of the damage was done to your soul and no healer could reach such injuries. You were given more of the same kind of salve, that you had gotten and used in the inn, to take along in your satchel and thanked the healer for it.

The last one to see the healer was Lancelot… and he was in that room for quite some time. You shared looks with Gawain, he was getting as impatient as you were.

After almost an hour seemed to have passed, you went to the door and knocked. “Is everything alright in there?”

The healer opened the door just a little, “I am almost done.”

‘Almost’? When he tried to close the door again, you blocked it with your hand. “What is taking so long?”

Gawain called out to you, mistaking your concern for Lancelot’s health for impatience. You ignored the knight.

Lancelot’s voice came from behind the healer. “Let her in.”

The healer sighed and opened the door just enough for you to pass through, he closed the door right away again. Your heart sank at the sight of Lancelot sitting on that bench. So many bruises, so many small fresh cuts on his torso and arms. The healer returned to his side to finish suturing a larger cut on his arm shut again. Lancelot did not even wince, as if he had gotten used to the pain they brought and that thought was heart wrenching.

“When did you…” you swallowed the lump in your throat.

He knew what you were trying to ask. “Some from when I made my way through the castle, some from Aldith.”

You pressed your eyes shut, disappointed that you hadn’t noticed that he had been wounded. You had not noticed any scent of blood the night he came to save you, the plant’s sap had sedated your abilities. And perhaps he had used the salve and that had camouflaged the scent. “I could have helped you… Why didn’t you say? … I don’t understand.”

“These-” he looked down at a cut just on his collarbone, “Are nothing compared to what I have already endured.”

How could he make it sound like it was normal? Had he so little concern over his own health?

You wouldn’t stand for it. “It is not fair of you to hide your suffering while you demand I share mine with you.”

He heard the change in your tone. “Y/n-”

You took a step closer, stopping right in front of him. “You may not care about your health, but I do. So do not try and make it sound like it isn’t important, it is to me. I am here for you, just as you are here for me! I will not have you ignore your injuries and let you risk dying from infections! If you do not wish to care about your health, I will! Do you understand?!”

Lancelot stared up into your eyes, like the sea facing the fury of the sun. His eyes had widened, and for a moment he did not look like the fearsome warrior that he was.

“Listen to the lady.” The healer picked your side in this. “I had to open this wound after you haphazardly sutured it. I believe you can do better than this.”

By the way Lancelot was still looking at you, you wondered if he even heard the healer speak.

Your determined gaze never faltered. “Do you understand, Lancelot?”

His mouth opened a few seconds before he finally spoke, “Yes.”

“Good.” you said. “Then I will wait outside for you.”

As you turned to walk away, he caught your wrist and stopped you. When looking back at him, you could spot a difference in his eyes, even the way he held your wrist was unexpectedly firm. It was as if it had been a reaction not even he had expected of himself, slowly he let go of your wrist. The healer was looking on curiously.

“He’s not as frightening as he wants people to believe.” You smiled at the healer.

Lancelot rolled his eyes a little, scoffing quietly, still the corner if his mouth had curved into a smile. You headed out the door so the healer could continue his necessary work. For those taught to serve and protect others it was often easy to forget their own needs, and you would make certain to remind him to listen to those basic needs more often.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  It was near noon when together you rode out of the village, from what you had heard from the short conversation between Lancelot and Gawain they both knew the way to Gramaire from there. Percival rode with Gawain now, allowing Goliath some relief from carrying two people. Gramaire was not far anymore, and the closer you got to the destination the more nervous Lancelot got.

Gawain took note of the Ash Man’s quiet state now. “You are being very quiet. Did you leave your tongue where it should not be again?”

The jest was meant to pull Lancelot back out of his darkening thoughts. You understood the ambiguous jest immediately and felt your face start to burn. Lancelot needed a few seconds to understand and than his eyes widened. Percival did not seem to understand the jest, and didn’t seem to care either.

This Fey knight… he could see how Gawain held back a grin. He could not look your way now.

Even Percival had noticed how quiet Lancelot had gotten and offered some encouragement. “Don’t worry. When we get there, I’ll tell them what you did. How you fought the Trinity Guard and killed that ugly paladin that wanted to cut out my tongue.”

Lancelot looked straight ahead and breathed out deeply.

Gawain looked over at him, sending a sympathetic look his way. “You’re not alone in this, Brother.”

“It feels as if I am riding to the gates of hell.” Lancelot said quietly.

“Maybe. But not alone.” you chimed in.

He said it to all, “When we arrive and they threaten to kill me, do not risk your life for me.”

Gawain shook his head. “You do not get to make that decision. I believe none of us will stand aside and watch you be murdered.”

“He’s right.” Percival said to Lancelot.

The Ash Man was stubborn. “I have caused enough suffering-”

For you, the answer to that potential problem was already clear. “If you are not welcome there, then we’ll go somewhere else.”

Percival agreed to that, “Yes.”

“They are loyal to you.” Gawain spoke to Lancelot. “You’ve earned their trust. And I believe you can earn the trust of my friends as well.”

Lancelot nodded a bit and fidgeted with the reins. He had never been afraid to die, but now that he had found people who he considered ‘home’ it was suddenly a frightening thought that this chance to be appreciated and perhaps even loved, could be lost again.

You reached over and placed a hand over his restless one, giving it an encouraging squeeze. “You can do this. I have faith in you. Whatever comes, we face it together.”

He was resisting the urge to turn his hand and take hold of yours, aware that the knight and Percival were undoubtedly looking his way now. You withdrew your hand, not wanting to have Gawain or Percival begin to speak of your familiarity towards him.

As the journey continued, Gawain spoke of the ones you’d might be meeting in Gramaire. Kaze, Pym, Arthur, all friends of the knight and most were Fey. Lancelot was listening calmly until Gawain mentioned how Arthur was the man that Lancelot had been fighting on the day that he burned the mill until Gawain had pushed him to the ground hard.

Lancelot pressed his eyes shut, recalling the moment with some agitation, he feigned to be disinterested. “The Manblood.”

“Yes. The Manblood.” Gawain tried not to smirk at him.

He was not amused. “And you believe he will be forgiving after I tried to send an arrow into him and my sword? After I humiliated him by making him fall to the ground like a fish washed up on land?”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose at his inconvenient former meeting with this person. Unbelievable…

Gawain informed him. “If you must know what you are about to ride into, you tried to kill Kaze as well. And you are the first who almost succeeded and made her chose to flee from a battle. Pym is from the same village as Percival, the one you burned.”

Lancelot looked close to halting Goliath. “Should I not better sink a dagger into my chest right here and now and spare us the trouble of journeying further?”

“Do not be so dramatic.” Gawain rolled his eyes at him. “And stop behaving like a coward, you are better than this, I have seen it. Now let us just try to reach Gramaire alive and we will handle what comes from there. You have come this far, do not make me drag you the rest of the way.”

There was a certain stern demeanor that the knight had that seemed to work well with Lancelot’s character, as if he needed that harsh interference from time to time. Lancelot send you a discreet look and you tried not to let a small laugh slip out. The knight’s words had their effect, Lancelot scraped his courage back together. Gawain continued to try and tell as much as he could about Gramaire and what had transpired on the side of the Fey to prepare the two of you. And you hoped it would make matters just a little more easier upon arriving there.

        The evening sun was bidding it’s farewell again to the lands when you arrived at Gramaire’s walls. Those guarding upon the walls had seen the group coming and were calling out to those below that the Green Knight was approaching the gate. By the time you were at the gate with the horses, it had been opened by those within Gramaire’s city walls. Most were quick to recognize the former Weeping Monk and held a distance, whispering amongst each other, it was Gawain riding beside him that made them remain almost calm but very wary. Gawain leaded the way to quite a big castle.

“Lord Ector, Arthur’s uncle, lives here.” Gawain dismounted, as did the rest of you. “He was not pleased when the Fey came here, but he was not against us sending the paladins away and freeing the city of their hold.”

A few stable boys were quick to run up to take over the reins to lead the horses into the stables. They looked very happy to see the knight, but looked upon Lancelot with confusion. Many eyes were staring, mostly Fey eyes.

“You seized this city with the witch-” Lancelot quickly corrected himself, feeling the glare of Percival reach him, “With Nimue. Father was furious when he heard of it.”

Gawain placed a hand on Lancelot’s shoulder blade, a signal to those watching that there was no threat, and a warning not to cross him by attacking the Ash Man. “Yes. We were able to send some of the Fey, that I had gathered, to safety with ships that Nimue had requested in return for the sword. Some of them stayed however, afraid to leave behind the land they call their home. Whatever happens, do not draw your sword, keep your hands away from it. There are Faun archers still up on the city’s walls and their skill with the bow is unmatched.”

Lancelot looked behind him as he walked and when he made eye-contact with you he tilted his head, silently telling you to walk ahead of them instead of behind him where he could not keep a proper eye on you or Percival. Gawain noticed it and beckoned for you to do so. You placed a hand to Percival’s shoulder and steered him to walk alongside you ahead of the men. Once you reached a set of large doors, the entrance of the castle, Gawain simply opened one and ushered the three of you inside. You instantly felt the change in temperature, it was comfortably warm inside.

Gawain brought his voice down to a whisper, “If Lord Ector lets you hear his dismay to your presence, pay him no mind. He has been less oppossed to our presence here since Arthur has spoken to him. And the Red Spear has provided what her ships can miss of their supplies.”

Lancelot voiced his concern and what he believed would be the result if the Fey continued to find shelter in this city, “Gramaire cannot be safe from the Church for long. This city will suffer under the pressure of famine when the roads leading here will be blocked by the paladins. The Fey here will have to find a safer sanctuary one of these days or risk the Manbloods here turning against them.”

“Indeed.” Gawain sighed deeply. “It is only a matter of time before they come and root us out of this city as well.”

“But where will we go then?” Percival was worried.

“We will find a place, young knight. We always do.” Gawain reassured the boy, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “I am certain Pym and Arthur will be glad to see that I have found you, let us go and see where they are.”

The boy smiled up at the knight and began to follow him when he started walking again. Suddenly Lancelot came to an abrupt halt and you accidentally bumped into him, confusion washed over his features as he looked around, moving a hand under your elbow but too distracted to look at you. In a corner draped with shadows, a figure stood and watched the three of you. You saw Lancelot wrap his hand around the pommel of his sword, it made Gawain turn around to see what on earth was happening.

    ~“Hello, my dear.”~

    The voice came from the shadows before the man did. Gareth stepped into sight, eyes on you a little longer before they turned to Gawain. “Brother, good to see you.”

Gawain was baffled to see the man, but then he quickly walked up to him and embraced him amicably. “Gareth!” He took a step back again, holding him by the shoulders. “Brother. When did you arrive here?”

“Just last night.” Gareth’s gaze glided to you briefly again. “Right on time it appears.”

Gawain stepped towards the three of you. “I want you to meet my-”

“We’ve met. Except for the boy.” Gareth looked at Percival, “You must be Percival. They told me my brother was out to search for you.”

Percival stayed at a distance, having noticed the shocked look on your face and the death stare Lancelot was aiming at the man. Gareth noticed it and set his eyes on those murderous ones, a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

“You.” Lancelot tightened his grip on the sword, trying to keep himself from drawing it out and using it.

“Have you gone mad?” Gareth asked his brother incredulously. “You’ve brought the Weeping Monk within these walls. This sack of dirt send an arrow into my shoulder!”

“It was meant for your neck.” Lancelot deadpanned.

You smacked his arm to scold him for his big mouth, Lancelot ignored it and pushed you a step back with his arm to create more distance between you and Gareth.

“Percival. Go back to the door and wait there.” Lancelot told the boy.

The boy scrunched his nose, looking up at him. “Wha-… Why?”

“Go.” Lancelot’s tone was heavier.

Percival grumbled something under his breath but did as told, crossing his arms in front of his chest once he reached the door again. You knew this meant trouble, he wanted the boy not just out of harm’s way, but also out of ears reach.

“Lancelot.” Gawain gave a warning look. “He is my brother. My kin.”

He did not appreciate it in the slightest. “I am not the one who is a threat here.”

Gareth got closer to Lancelot, appearing to love how close he was to losing his temper. “What have you done to your poor wife to make her stay at your side?”

Your eyes widened, Gawain looked at you and Lancelot and he pieced the puzzle together right away.

Gawain gave Lancelot a look. “‘Wife’?”

“They did not tell you?” Gareth smiled in amusement. “She is his wife. Father Carden wed them to prevent her father from claiming her back. This bastard kept her locked in a filthy room all alone.”

Lancelot could not ignore the disappointed look in Gawain’s eyes. “I was following orders. I could not let my sympathy for her be known, Father would have seen it as a threat.”

Gareth was deliberately asking hard questions to see him falter, “If you felt such sympathy for her, why not let her free?”

Lancelot failed to answer, shame and remorse set into his eyes as he averted them. You stepped between them, shielding Lancelot before it could spiral out of control.

Gareth looked past you at him. “Hiding behind a woman? You’re too much of a coward to face the repercussions of what you’ve done.”

You felt Lancelot touch your arm and warned him. “Don’t even think about moving me out of the way!” When Gareth chuckled, you lost your patience at him. “I don’t care if you are a knight, continue to try and escalate this to a fight and Lancelot won’t be the one you’ll have to face!”

Gareth let his gaze roll freely over you. “You are absurdly attractive when you’re angry, do you know that? If you are still lonely at night, I will gladly offer you company. I have a warm room here.”

Your face ran hot at the proposition. Lancelot clearly understood what Gareth had meant by that, you had sensed him move but followed the movement and by blocking him he bumped into your back.

Gawain looked at his brother appalled. “Gareth.”

“What?” Gareth looked at him.

“She is a married woman!” Gawain pointed out.

“I doubt he cares.” Gareth said as he looked at Lancelot. “He treated her like a prisoner.”

The comment was drawing a bad response from the Ash Man, you could tell. You stopped it from getting out of control.

“Enough.” You spoke to Gareth, dropping your voice low so Percival would not hear, “Bold of you to keep trying to get into my bed, after you’ve threatened to kill me, held me captive and were paid by my father to do so.”

Gareth suddenly grinned, “What would higher my chances?”

You were not given the chance for a clever reply, the sudden absence of Lancelot behind you raised alarm in you. Not even Gawain was fast enough to block Lancelot from moving around you and punching Gareth in the jaw. One hit was all it took to send the Fey knight to the floor, Lancelot stepped back right away when Gawain told him to stop. Gawain proceeded to help his brother up from the floor, it had dented Gareth’s pride.

Lancelot returned to your side. “Leave her be.” Fury still reigned in his eyes. “She has expressed her indifference towards you.”

Gareth wiped the drops of blood from his nostril. “How can anybody be certain of her free will when you are around her?”

You decided to approach Gareth directly, breaking free from Lancelot’s grip when he tried to prevent it. Gareth seemed rather surprised that you would get so close to him after all.

After calming yourself down, you tried to reason with Gareth. “How can you call yourself a knight and be so eager to seek out this strife?”

Gareth’s expression changed, his tense body relaxed. “Forgive me, Lady of Ravenwick. But I do not understand how someone such as him can be trusted.”

Hearing him speak more calmly helped to have a honest conversation. “The Church started a war against the ones they do not understand. Is this what you wish for too?”

“No.” He looked at the wall.

Very briefly you touched his arm to draw his attention again. “I do not want to feel as if there is a constant risk of someone I care for getting hurt. Can I ask that a knight of the Fey will refrain from seeking war with someone who seeks peace?”

Gareth chewed his cheek for a moment, trying to ignore the encouraging and expecting look Gawain was sending him. “I’ll grant him a chance.”

It was a relief to hear, when Gareth looked down at the small distance between you he smirked and it made you step back.

“Just one more thing. To settle our grievances.” you said.

He hummed curiously. You slapped him. Not hard but just strong enough that the sound echoed in the hallway. Gareth seemed far more shocked than he had been after being struck by Lancelot, he held a hand against his stinging cheek. No one had seen it coming.

Your voice was strong and clear, “For your behavior towards me. For putting a sword to my throat and daring to proposition me while I was in that house with you. Be better!”

The shock left his face very slowly, but it lingered in his eyes. The apology poured right out of him, “I’m sorry.”

“You heard the lady.” Gawain sounded proud. “Leave them be, Gareth. They are my guests here.”

“You are no help.” Gareth muttered to him. “The Feyguard is supposed to help each other.”

Gawain crossed his arms over his chest. “You were a knight, before you sold your loyalty for coin.”

“I’ve stopped.” It stung at Gareth’s pride. “And I never stopped fighting for the Fey. If you give the Weeping Monk a chance, you should do the same for your own blood.”

“Lancelot, " Gawain corrected him, “has shown that he deserves it. I expect the same of you.”

Gareth gave a sharp nod, yielding to his brother, then he offered Lancelot his hand as a gesture of goodwill. You could see how the Ash Man was contemplating on breaking it instead of shaking it, then he looked at you to see your opinion on it, you gave a nod. Lancelot shook Gareth’s hand, the firm and strong hold a silent message between them.

“I’d love to stay and see Arthur’s reaction, but I have matters to attend to. Good luck.” Gareth said and walked away.

Percival approached again, “What’s his problem?”

Gawain walked next to Percival. “That was my brother, Gareth. Once, he was part of the Feyguard, but his tendency to seek out trouble has driven him away from the values we promise to uphold as knights. Do not worry about him, he barks louder than he bites.” Then the knight send you and Lancelot a look. “Should the two of you not tell him the truth before he learns it from someone else?”

Percival snapped his eyes to you. “What truth?”

What use was it to keep it a secret now? Gareth had already told Gawain, he’d surely tell everyone else too. From the looks of it, Lancelot was leaving the decision to you.

You halted and told the boy the truth, “Lancelot and I are wed.”

“Wed?!?” The boy was stunned. “But… he’s a monk.”

“It’s complicated.” your palms were starting to feel clammy.

Percival tried to make sense of it all. “Is that why you were kissing?”

You couldn’t muster up the courage to speak, and when you locked eyes on Lancelot he simply acted oblivious to your silent request for help with this. That rotten…

“I…” You simply didn’t know what to say to that.

“What kind of monk are you actually?” Percival asked Lancelot, whilst scrunching his nose.

Lancelot was speechless at the boy’s reaction.

“I can’t believe it!” A loud voice thundered from up ahead, a man approached fast and drew his sword. Three women were following suit fast.

You quickly grabbed hold of Percival and moved him a few steps away as a precaution. Gawain quickly took place in front of Lancelot, quietly telling him to take some steps back too. The women stopped before they got too close, but the man seemingly hoped that Gawain would step aside.

Instead the knight held out an arm to stop him, other hand moving to the pommel of his sword should it be needed. “Arthur, stop! Listen to what I have to say first!”

“Percival!” The freckled girl noticed the boy.

Percival clearly knew her. “Pym!”

“Out of the way, Gawain!” Arthur growled in anger and pointed the sword at him.

Another woman, Fey, moved skillfully fast and held a curved sword under Arthur’s throat. “Do not threaten the Green Knight!”

Arthur lowered his sword and pointed past the knight at Lancelot. “That vile scum over there brought terror upon us all, Kaze! He hunted Nimue, he tortured Bergerum and set fire to a mill filled with Fey just to get to us!”

“What is he doing here, Green Knight?” Kaze demanded to know.

Gawain kept a sharp watch on Arthur. “His name is Lancelot, and he is not the monster we have believed him to be. I found Percival alive, because he saved the boy from Brother Salt. He fought the Trinity Guard when they tried to stop him from letting the boy go free. He helped me save Feys on our way here. He’s one of us. Ash Folk.”

“Impossible.” Kaze was shocked.

“It is the truth.” Gawain assured her. “He bears their marks and holds the power of Fey Fire.”

You locked eyes on the women who stood at a distance to see the display. A dark-haired woman stood beside the girl called ‘Pym’, a spear in her hand and a intimidating look in her eyes. She was watching with intrigue and a strong bit of vigilance.

“Ash Folk?” Pym blurted out. “I thought they were all dead.”

That was painful to hear… it was as if you were merely a remainder of a clan long gone.

Arthur cared little for how rare the Ash Folk were, because he was simply not aware of it. “Fey or not, this is my uncle’s city, and he is not welcome here! Get him out!”

Gawain did not yield. “This is not just your decision to make, Arthur. Sending him away is foolish. We do not have enough people on our side who can fight!”

Kaze was looking Lancelot up and down, measuring him up no doubt. “How can you be sure that he is on our side?”

The knight was calmer when speaking to her. “He is Fey and he betrayed the Church, he did it all to save one of our own. They will be looking for him and wish to see him punished for his betrayal against them.”

Lancelot stepped forward, tired of seeing others step into danger for him. “I have turned away from the Church-”

Arthur shook his head in anger and disbelief. “There is no place here for a butcher like you. I saw what you did by the mill!”

The title was an insult to him. “I had my orders. I obeyed them. That does not mean that I approved of them.”

The Manblood rose his voice, “You try to say that you feel remorse for torturing Bergerum to lure the Green Knight out of that mill?!? I’m supposed to believe that? What was it that you said? Let me recall.” Arthur stepped dangerously close. “You said you were willing to wait for us, but that you would need to ‘occupy your time’, then you sank your sword into him and threatened to untwist his stomach. I still hear his screams even now!”

Lancelot’s gaze fell to the floor for a moment. And you struggled to listen to what he had done, feeling how the new knowledge set it’s claws into you. Unfortunately, Lancelot had noticed the change in your eyes, and so had Arthur.

The Manblood spoke to you, “Did they tell you that, Miss? You’re in the presence of a monster.”

Lancelot did not appreciate it. “Don’t.”

It was the spark Arthur had been waiting for to set fire to the oil. “Don’t you dare tell me what I can or cannot do! We should kill you where you stand!”

Gawain was visibly getting angry. “Killing him would be a mistake! We have Father Carden’s second in command at our side! The one who knows all the secrets of the Red Paladins and how they work. Their plans, their secrets, their strategy, he has it all! Do you not think that Father Carden would entrust him with matters that could change the course of this war?!”

“And you believe we can trust him with matters of the Fey? With matters that can change the course of the war and lead the paladins to victory?!” Arthur snapped back.

“He will not return to the Church!” Gawain said with conviction.

“How can you be sure?” Arthur scoffed.

Gawain pointed right at you but looked the Manblood dead in the eye. “See her? Half-Fey. Ash Folk like him. His wife. If he returns he loses not just her, but the boy he saved and risked his life for as well. Now, my trust is not given easily, but when I saw what he did for them I knew there was good in him. He belongs with the Fey!”

Arthur sneered, “Who says that she is not a mad Fey murderer as well?”

“Arthur.” Gawain disliked the hostile attitude.

It hit a nerve in Lancelot. “What I have done has nothing to do with her! She did not choose to be wed to me, it was decided for us!”

Arthur was appalled by it. “The Church forced this poor Fey woman to marry you? That is even worse!”

You hated how close Arthur was with the sword and Lancelot seemed to follow the advice of the knight to not draw out his own. You tried to step between them but Lancelot blocked you with his arm.

It was Percival who came and pushed Arthur back. “Stop it!”

“He’s dangerous, Percival! Nimue would have judged him to die!” Arthur tried to make the boy see reason.

The boy took on a defence stance. “No, she wouldn’t have! Nimue would have listened! She would have listened to what I’d tell her! Before she had the sword everyone always treated her like a monster, just like they do with Lancelot! She’d give him a chance to prove he is not one!” He snarled in warning, “If he has to leave, I won’t stay either!”

Gawain spoke to Arthur’s conscience, “Nimue would never forgive you for this, Arthur. She loved Percival.”

The Manblood was torn. “This is madness!”

Gawain stepped right in front of him. “We need him! And you know it! I gave you a chance, I ask that you do the same.”

“Please.” you begged Arthur. “I swear to you, and on my life, that we are here to help. Please, don’t send us away.”

“You can stay.” Arthur decided.

That did not mean Lancelot could and you decided to touch his arm to show another side of him to Arthur. Even Lancelot did not know how to react to the gesture that brought a message across.

“One chance. I beg you, Arthur.” You did not let go, even if the Ash Man felt self-conscious that they saw. “We will repay you for it.”

“Fine.” Arthur yielded sharp, barely able to belief he was doing this. “One chance. But if your husband causes trouble…” He held back the threat only because Percival was there to hear and glaring at him. Arthur straightened his back and looked at the dark-haired woman with the spear for a moment. He turned to Lancelot again. “We lost a lot of good people on that beach when the raiders attacked us before they could board the Pendragon ships. You will make yourself useful, or find a place somewhere far away from us.”

Lancelot presented himself as obedient. “I will aid wherever I can.”

The Manblood gave a sharp nod, gravely bothered by the situation that the Green Knight had brought to Gramaire.

“We will lock them into a room for the night. That is not negotiable.” Arthur told Gawain, then looked at Lancelot. “Tomorrow you will tell us everything you know. And I mean everything. I suggest you think well about that. It is time you do the right thing.”

Every word was filled with venom. You could tell that he loathed Lancelot.

“A fair request.” Gawain looked at you and Lancelot hopeful.

But Lancelot gave some resistance. “She should not have to undergo this treatment, Gawain.”

“It’s fine.” you told them. “They don’t know us and they need to see that we can be trusted.”

What appeared on the Ash Man’s face could only be described as a pout. He finally gave a nod, agreeing to the terms.

Arthur looked at Kaze. “Kaze?”

She gave a nod, began to walk and beckoned for Gawain to walk with her. When Percival did not follow, you halted.

“Percival?” You saw him at Pym’s side.

Arthur clarified why that was, “He has his own room here, and we know him. It’s you who we need to keep an eye on.”

You gave no resistance to that, it was a relief that the boy would not have to be locked into a room. “I will see you later.” you assured the boy.

Percival gave a small but sympathetic smile. “It’s going to be fine.”

Lancelot had halted too and was far more reluctant to leave the boy with people he had just met. “Percival.”

“It’s alright.” The boy comforted. “I know them.”

He still did not move and Gawain got worried that the Ash Man would do something foolish.

It was Percival walking up to him and quietly embracing his waist that broke the tension that had build in the air. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Lancelot had a hand on the back of the boy’s head. “Yes.”

Percival let go and stepped back. “Now please do what Arthur asks. He’ll see that you’re not the Weeping Monk anymore.”

It was a child that was able to calm the storm within him. Lancelot reluctantly began to follow Gawain and you followed a little behind. What Arthur had said kept going through your mind, how Lancelot had once tortured their friend Bergerum… It had been so upsetting to hear and you couldn’t deny that you wished you hadn’t. It left you conflicted, you wanted to talk to him about it but feared the answers that would come. You fought of the nausea that the distress caused in your stomach, he was trying so hard to atone for his past and you felt terrible for reacting like this to hearing of it.

“Everything alright?” Gawain happened to look back at you as they walked.

You quickly answered, “Yes.”

That slight tilt of Lancelot’s head let you know that he doubted that answer, he was looking at you from the corner of his eyes and you simple shook your head a little to let him know it wasn’t worth speaking of.

Especially not where others could hear.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten ​​  @the-great-adventures-of-me   @linkpk88   @fxrchxldws @elenaoftheturks ​​  @slytherlight   @beananacake ​​     @crystallizedtime ​​ @moonlightaura03 @angrygardendeer @have-aheart   @5am-cigarette   @arcanenature @thewinterskywalker @notyourwildestdream  

 @coloursforyourportrait   @koressecretidentity   @nike90   @n1ghtlux ​​  @rachlovesactors ​​  @luckyzipperscissorsbat   @morena-doing-stuff   @the-fangirl-diaries ​​  @gipsydanger17   @heavenly1927 ​​ @phantasmalbeiing @labyrinthonmymind @asarcastic-thiamstan @rainyv-skies     @stclairesplace   @​​katjusja @isla-bell-blog   @beebeerockknot   @sahvlren @lancedoncrimsonwings @weird123abc @elizabeth-holland24 @kissingandromeda @timeshiptraveler

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story. Using this old list from the previous fic.

[kitkatyes]

thinking about john juniper again

very rambly so im putting it under the cut

Its the fact that in the second game, this man decided that Phoenix, the very same person he named because of their ability to essentially rise from the dead, known to escape anything, can be left alone in a laser trap whilst he goes to the peace summit

juniper is a little incompetent and prideful, but I'd think he'd know better than to leave phoenix alone; well, I think he'd know better than to leave the drill/scredriver/laser thing in such an easily accessible location.

he knows who phoenix is-- thats the real kicker

maybe, just maybe, theres some shred of humility within him because of this

did he want pheonix to escape? I feel like there may be a possiblity-- he has titled himself as 'the worlds greatest actor', after all. perhaps he was so insistent on the idea that phoenix would escape and they wouldn't be directly killed by him

I mean, i can sense a little bit of fondness between the two-- sorta like, a thrill of the chase dynamic (junipers just living the pipe dream of being some sorta evil nemesis-- I like to think he always liked playing the villain in some movies he'd been cast in) And, like, he seemed so surprised when phoenix showed up

I mean, if juniper wanted phoenix dead, why not kill them there? If he wanted to keep them captured, why not take them to the peace summit (imagine that haha <- not-so-subtle plug for one of my fics [listen, i was thinking about that fic before typing this out in a haze, okay? /vsilly]) He could've exposed the agency's involvement and make phoenix an example-- y'know, show them how serious he was

basically, juniper liked phoenix and wanted them to escape

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Fic title: "I'll Be Your Mirror"

I can only think of BG3, but-

“I don’t know what I look like,” Izuku admitted. He flashed his sharp teeth. “Side effect. Cameras don’t work either. Video or otherwise,” he shrugged.

Shouto frowned, studying the other teen. “I can be your mirror,” he offered.

“Huh?” Izuku asked.

“I’ll be your mirror.” Shouto repeated. He reached out to cup Izuku’s face. The bafflement on Izuku’s face would make him snort but instead he studied the Vampire Quirked teenager. “You have big dark red eyes, almost black. Pale skinned covered in freckles oddly enough given you can't go into the sun.”

“My dad had some,” Izuku said in a mutter. His cold face probably would be red if it was closer to his feeding date. Shouto nodded in understanding.

“You have curly dark green hair, almost black as well. You have a scar on your face, right over your mouth…”

“Bullies, trying to defang a villain in the making,” Izuku said. Shouto felt the familiar anger. Izuku got so much hate for his Quirk. Their first day, Bakugou had gone on about the green haired teenager, saying they would catch him in the act soon enough. That Izuku was just waiting to start killing.

Luckily the blond hadn't lasted in their class but his words had showed what kind of hate Izuku had gotten his entire life.

Shouto wasn't scared though. Not since he saw Izuku nearly rip his own leg off to distract him from his hunger during the USJ after half his torso was blown off, the need to regrow it making him hunger for blood. The horror on Izuku’s face as he stared at their bleeding classmate Sato would stay with Shouto.

He had nothing to fear from Izuku.

Summary: Izuku has a Vampire Quirk in which he is stronger, faster and more durable then humans. He's able to regenerate, but he needs to drink blood. He's face a lot of shit over it. He got into UA though! Bakugou was not allowed to be his canon self as instead of seeing a kid slacking and a kid annoyed by it, Aizawa saw a bully attacking a victim from the get go.

Bakugou eas expelled after the battle trials because they were outside and he purposely ripped Izuku’s face mask off and broke a wall. Sunlight is deadly to Izuku, so this was much more a ‘kid using a weapon he didn't know was that powerful and ignoring a teacher’.

There was an incident when they were kids after a hungry Izuku did try to go for Bakugou’s throat that's used but its treated as a shitty excuse as it should be.

Pairings: TodoDeku. Maybe poly Dekusquad.

[ctrlhope]

Please talk about your bug boys all the time!! Any tidbits, thoughts, and, of course, their fics make me happy. I never thought I'd love bugs (scared of spiders), but i LOVE your bug boys!!

I have so many thoughts from cute to morbid about them.

PLEASE I RLLY LOVE TOOOO OMG!!!! Wait okay so below the cut i'll put in little blurbs for each of them so you can get the vibe yk?? Cause I know I havent been able to show much of them through the fics i've put out so far 😭😭 In the rest of the guys fics (save for Hoseok), they'll all be a lot more present 🥺

It makes me so happy that you love the guys as much as I do, though fr. I was never expecting Jimin's fic to receive so much love and even though you're scared I'm so happy you took the chance on reading it <333 I LOVE YOU!!!! 🥺 ALSO PLS TELL ME ALL OF YOUR THOUGHTS!!! CUTE AND MORBID IDC I LOVE THEM ALL!!!!

cw. yandere behaviour, hybrid!bts, toxic behaviour, manipulation, typical stuff lol

Kim Seokjin

⊹  ׁ   ݂┊ ⭔ species: blue morpho butterfly

⊹  ׁ   ݂┊ ⭔ classification: Dependent Type » 6/10

An architype of beauty. A doll for the rich and powerful. The most sought after species in the entire exotic world. Kim Seokjin knows his place in the ecosystem of humanity well-- knows the titles given to him even better. Knows his value as no more than a monetary scale, a gorgeous pair of wings to show, a creature to fawn over. To bask in the effervescent glow of. He knows his worth. He knows what he's meant to be worth. What he should mean to every human he comes into contact with-- the gem of their collection. The world they now own. So why, why would you just abandon him after purchasing him at the latest auction house? Send him to live at the reserve after he's already decided that you have the honor of being his human, huh?

Kim Seokjin has always been the type to adjust to his reality with every new owner he has, yet he just can't stop himself from becoming fixated on you. From never wanting to leave your side-- not even for a moment. From thinking about you every waking moment you're apart. From wanting to be liked by you. From wanting to belong to you-- not as a pet, but as something so much more. You were kind when you met him, even more so when he sees you at the reserve. You show him things he never thought possible, you let him live. You treat him not as a toy, never force him to do anything, not once. You, yourself, might just be a butterfly. One with their wings clipped. Seokjin has always hated collars. The stupid, diamond encrusted things his past owners forced on him as a show of wealth. But you... with you he wonders hopes that someday you might just don him with the same. Maybe he can put one on you, too.

Min Yoongi

⊹  ׁ   ݂┊ ⭔ species: fat-tail scorpion

⊹  ׁ   ݂┊ ⭔ classification: Obsessive Type » 2/10

Min Yoongi never thought himself to be much in the world. His mother made sure he knew that ever since he was young. A scorpion is nothing to be proud of. Nothing to shine light on. Nothing that could ever make the world happy in some sort of meaningful way. They are creatures of destruction-- bred for a bid of power. To be used in wars for their poison. To instill fear deep in ones bones from a single glance. So how come, exactly, were you never scared of him? Why did you always seem so light, so happy around the terrible, brooding man? Why did you live with your head in the clouds? Why were you still friends with him even after you knew what he was? What he could do? After the way others looked at you, judged you for even being around him? All questions Yoongi asked, yet never thought to ever find the answers to. Never thought to let himself agree with the simplest conclusion of. Yoongi's entire life he's pushed away the obvious, even more so with his hybrid side. Never letting his true thoughts be heard, nor his wildest whims carried. It's no wonder he's such a stranger from his own feelings, his own instincts. But once you finally accept him... it's unfortunate how quickly it all goes out the window. His restraint lost, his hybrid side taking up much more space than it ever did before. You're all he can think about. All he wants to be around. All he can ever hope to love and exist as in the world. He sees you in everything-- he thinks. And though he tries desperately to hold it back, because of how long he's tried to hold back his feelings, his obsession is only getting worse. Thankfully his new friend Namjoon is ready to help him navigate all of these new emotions bubbling up inside.

** though during his actual fic he doesn't really appear yandere, the further along into his relationship with you, the worse he becomes. Probably maxing out at a 4/10-5/10.

Jung Hoseok

⊹  ׁ   ݂┊ ⭔ species: warrior wasp

⊹  ׁ   ݂┊ ⭔ classification: Sadistic Type » 8/10

Hoseok has always lived his life exactly the way he desires. Spending his days flying around the rainforest, taking what he pleases from others, playing tricks on those below him. Coming home to his nest with his siblings, living without regard or care for anyone other than those he calls family. Living the way a hybrid should live. That they deserve to live. Wasps are practically gods among mortals, aren't they? Stronger, faster, better. That sounds right, doesn't it? A god among men. Something that should be worshiped. It's safe to say that Hoseok himself has a god complex, though he would deny that fact. He would just say he wants to have fun-- that he deserves to have fun, no matter who else might come in the way of that. Cocky, arrogant, mean. He doesn't quiet care how he is described by others as long as he knows their place. And deep, deep in the Amazon Rainforest, there isn't much to stop him, is there? Well, other than the first appearance of humans that he's ever seen. A cute little researcher leading the way, smelling so good. So delicious. Exactly like the nectar of his favorite flower. Like the jungle after a fresh rain. The best part? You wants to know everything about him. Fawn over him like he knows he deserves. Doesn't mind when he plays little games. Wants to know his whole world. You aren't supposed to leave. He knows that with his entire being. Knows you belong to him. You're his favorite toy, his mate. You're not leaving. You're. Not. Leaving. Didn't you know going into this that warrior wasps have some of the most painful stings?

Kim Namjoon

⊹  ׁ   ݂┊ ⭔ species: honey bee

⊹  ׁ   ݂┊ ⭔ classification: Possessive Type » 7/10

Home to the reserve since birth, Namjoon knows a thing or two about how everything functions. The fine-tuned intricacies interlaced behind the surface, the projects going on throughout, the way the gears grind almost so perfectly together to keep everything functioning so smoothly. It's safe to say he knows everything-- he makes sure he does. The taste of knowledge is so sweet, he knows he could never turn away. He helps the new members of the park adapt smoothly, makes sure to help out with the hive. Oh, and of course help out the sweet little director of the park. He would never be so cold as to turn you down, anyway. You've grown so close over the years-- he was the one to first help you gain your bearings when you first took on the job. He's the one to bring you flowers when you've had a hard week. He's the one to put a blanket over your shoulders if you fall asleep at your desk. He's always there. He just makes sure of it. Because there's just something so beautiful about knowledge, you know? Something so deep, so raw, about knowing every little thing about somebody-- everybody that Namjoon can't turn himself away from. Knowledge enlists power. It instills fear. He wants you. And he knows. He's going to figure out everything about you. Just so he can have you. So he can make you his little puppet. Secrets are such dangerous things. You should know that. You do know that. But he, he knows there's something off about you. And once he finds out what, there's no going back.

Park Jimin

⊹  ׁ   ݂┊ ⭔ species: cobalt blue tarantula

⊹  ׁ   ݂┊ ⭔ classification: Clingy Type » 5/10

It's just too hard to be a spider!! Jimin's known it for as long as he can remember-- well, as long as he's been at the reserve, anyway. People there think you're scary so they don't give you any snacks, security removes your webs when they become too prominent around the landscape, not to mention the sun!! Oh god, and don't even get him started on his fangs. He loves them, they're so pretty-- he knows he's pretty, but they're just a pain! Nothing to properly bite to take away the itch!! Uhg!! Being a spider is just so hard!! But you, sweet sweet you just make it so easy. Ah! Wait, no. He's getting ahead of himself again. He has to remind himself to be patient-- oh so patient with you. It's not your fault you're just a little human, that you just need a little more coaxing than most. That you need time to understand him. To understand his raw, unfiltered desires. Oh, the things he would do to you if you did. The things he's going to do once you do. It was never his intention to stumble into your home, in fact, he had no inkling to do the sort. But he needed to get out, he needed to leave the reserve. To explore. His skin burned to go, the words of his bestfriend ushering him along the way. It was fate he found your home. A sign that you were meant to be. And every since that day, a moment has not gone by that he hasn't thought of you. Hasn't worked on planning his next move to have you. Because human's are fragile, you know? They need time. They need space. But Jimin-- he wants neither. He wants you all for himself. He needs you to want him like he wants you. Every waking second. Every moment. And maybe... maybe someday he'll wrap you up tight enough, pretty enough to show you what real love is.

Kim Taehyung

⊹  ׁ   ݂┊ ⭔ species: domestic silk moth

⊹  ׁ   ݂┊ ⭔ classification: Impulsive Type » 9/10

Kim Taehyung... he's another breed of creature entirely. Everyone at the park knows it-- his best friends especially. An amalgamation of nothing and everything. Something that is so easy to read yet difficult to decipher. The type of person to live off of their will alone, not caring for anyone else, nor the consequences their actions may hold. If Taehyung wills it, that's simply how it's going to be. So why... why exactly do you make everything so difficult for him? Things should be so simple-- they always are in his world. He wants a specific tree or cave in the park, the others give it to him. He wants attention from specific visitors, the others leave to let him have it. He wants to leave the park, play another cute little game of cat and mouse with you-- he knows you'll follow him in the end. Or else. He doesn't mind getting his hands dirty. He doesn't care about hurting people to get what he wants. See, it's simple, right? So why the fuck are you so difficult? He doesn't give a shit about all this human garbage. You should feel the same way he does about you. You should just accept his courting gifts without a second thought. You should be his mate and have his mark on you already. You should be living in his nest with him. But you fucking aren't and it's pissing him off. C'mon, it should just be so easy to give in-- he's so nice to you when you behave. He's such a good moth for you. He listens when you tell him no. And eventually you will give in. He knows it. In fact, he's sure you're already in love with him. You're mates. As far as he's concerned, you feel it too. At least, you will soon.

Jeon Jungkook

⊹  ׁ   ݂┊ ⭔ species: black garden ant

⊹  ׁ   ݂┊ ⭔ classification: Worship Type » 8/10

Jungkook loves his colony more than anything else in the world. It's all he's ever known, all he's ever grown up with, all he's ever learned to care about. The good of the colony is more important than anything else in an ants mind-- of course it is. It's bred into their blood, their genes speaking for them more than anything else. Bring home food for everyone else some days, help with the ever expanding tunnel system the next. Do everything for the sake of the colony, for the queen. Only, there was a seamless little mess-up in poor Jungkook's life. Something an ant hybrid never expects, but cant be more thrilled about. You see, ant hybrids don't have mates. That little thing is a simple fact of nature, of life. Something inherent in their beings for the good of the colony-- to make sure their priorities don't wonder. Of course they still mate, they still breed. But an ant with a mate... that means something far greater than a home colony can hold. Jungkook never anticipated finding a mate. Thought he would just settle down with someone he could be happy enough with. But now... now everything is different. Everything has changed from the second he laid eyes on your form sitting on the picnic blanket. And Jungkook knows he's loved you more than he's ever loved his own queen-- his own colony. Maybe he loves you more than life itself. For when an ant hybrid has a mate, it means the formation of something new, of something greater. Of a new colony, with a new queen. And you, you're everything he's ever wanted. You're his queen.

⊹  ׁ   ݂┊ ⭔ interested in more? read the rest relax reserve one-shots here!!

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[haloburns]

i forgot i made this post tbh it's only been two months, but seeing it again made me remember that i promised to find the note i made about the cluster's kids. i'm just gonna copy it over pm wholesale bc i think it's funny

the title of the note is "found family avengers 2012 style fic"

family units within the cluster

riley + will = starla

nomi + amanita + bug = micah (ivf)

lito + hernando + dani = carlos (ivf, lito+dani)

sun + mun + her dog = (oldest to youngest) min-jun (m), ha-eun (f), si-woo (m), ji-hun (m), ji-a (f), eunseo (f) (all adopted)

capheus + zakia = kamili (f), daudi (m), jelani (m)

kala + rahjan + wolfgang (+ felix) = savi (no one knows if raj or wolfie are her dad, and no one cares)

other parts of the found family that don't live with them

diego + wife and kids visit OFTEN, caph's mom and jela visit as often as they can manage, and riley's dad basically lives with the cluster

extra headcanons (under the cut bc it's long)

micah (nomi + amanita) is nonbinary as hell, and the oldest of the cluster's kids. it's his birth, watching him grow up, that helps riley come to terms with her fear of losing another baby (which ofc is helped by neets and nomi's support)

riley cries and cries and cries when starla is born, and she doesn't let go of her for three days

kala only has the one baby, sweet little savi. rahjan and wolfgana fall in love IMMEDIATELY but kala takes a little longer to feel those maternal instincts everyone's always going on about. rahjan becomes Thee Stay-At-Home Dad, and he loves every moment of it. kala's father teaches him how to make all kala's favorite dishes

sun and mun adopted six kids because sun refuses to be pregnant (see trans!sun hc) and mun is a bleeding heart (affectionate)

lito cries every time he and his partners see everyone with their kids (literally. he's a blubbering mess.) so dani makes a mostly off hand joke about willing to carry a kid for lito and hernando, but hernando takes her hand and says it would be their kid, so she starts tearing up, then hernando starts tearing up, and then the three of them are set up in the kitchen drilling neets and nomi about their experience with ivf. carlos is born two years later, with the blackest eyes and the sweetest brown curls. lito hasn't stopped crying yet (carlos is three months old)

they live in a HUUUUGE house on a fair bit of land somewhere. there are 17 adults, 13 kids. 5 king size beds for the couples. alaskan king beds for kajangang and lito/nando/dani. felix and bug each have their own rooms in the house, and riley's dad does too even though he still refers to it as the guest room (he's been there eight months). all of their family members have their own rooms in the guest house (did i mention the house was huge??) so they can visit, but they don't have to be IN the absolute chaos if they don't want to be

age order at the time of this theoretical fic ive never written:

micah (14)

min-jun (14)

ha-eun (12)

savi (8)

starla (8)

si-woo (7)

ji-hun (6)

kamili (5)

ji-a (4)

daudi (3)

jelani (7 months)

eunseo (5 months)

carlos (3 months)

queer headcanons for the main sense8 cluster

nomi - obvious, trans woman and a lesbian, potentially bisexual

lito - gay man in a polyamorous relationship. meet his boyfriend and his boyfriends girlfriend who is also his emotional support fag hag

riley - bisexual as hell. gender is a costume and one she loves to put on. probably some level of gender neutral/agender but i feel like shed stick to the nonbinary label for ease sake

will - man's a lil bit fruity ngl he enjoys sense8 sex with lito and wolfgang more than hed ever admit outloud, and he does enjoy the occasional skirt or two. more gender fluid than trans, eventually adopts she/her pronouns in addition to his he/hims. when he tells nomi and lito, they throw him a party

capheus - the happiest cis+ youll ever meet. bisexual as hell and not ashamed in the least. he loves with his whole heart, how could he limit himself to just one gender????

sun bak - as previous post stated, trans man, bisexual. loves mun but not entirely sold on the monogamy bit

wolfgang - the fattest fucking bisexual to walk this earth and proud of it. you see that hitch in raj's step?? yeah HE did that, and he's not gonna stop being smug about it until he can do it all over again. obvs polyamorous, he's so in love with rajhan its actually a little sickening

kala - the token straight. how she managed this with seven queers in her head, i have no idea. she loves her husbands without a doubt, but kissing girls is a little scary for her (probably bc shes afraid shell like it "too much" which— actually yeah. i support closet bisexual kala, nvm, token straight card revoked)

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

Hey I’m the anon you just answered, but that was the first message I’ve ever sent you. Guess you gotta lot of fans out there 👀 I love love love fics that explore Colin’s family situation ❤️❤️ I feel like him and Jamie probably have a lot in common

Oh you are so sweet! Well you and the other anon have a lot in common, here is the full request:

I wish you would write a fic where Jamie discovers Colins dad is emotionally abusive but Colin thinks its normal. He helps him see its not and they bond over having shitty dads.

[toxintouch]

hii!! I just read cold spots and it was AMAZING!!! Im not sure if you wanted to continue the fic, but if you don’t mind could you continue with Veres part? I don’t know what you would write about but I just feel like that fic has so much potential to be a little 3 part series or something 🙏

<- Cold Spots TYSM ANON!! I put the Vere End at the beginning for ease of reading. For the sake of folks who would like to read this as a stand-alone... I think u can? With the knowledge that the premise of Cold Spots is that Mhin and MC/Sparrow went ghost hunting. Vere is said to have been responsible for a handful of local ghost stories, so…of course he makes some mischief.🦊 Also MC needs some Winter wear, stat.  A very light Possessive Vere warning in this btw, though perhaps in a roundabout way.  Plausible deniability is so important to him.

You putter around in your room at the Wet Wick as you go about your nightly routine. The occasional cheer or thud from below only accentuates your nervous energy, punctuating your reluctance to settle down and get into bed. You smooth the covers with your bandaged hands and fluff the pillow before extinguishing the lamplight. You tug the bedding up above your shoulders, fighting to get comfortable. As your eyelids finally start to droop, the flicker of a shadow catches your attention.   It dances and sways and bends and grows until suddenly it is right in front of you.  On top of you. Silken, blood red drips down onto your face, a knife gleam smile too close for comfort.  You breathe in a gasp, wondering if you should scream. “Vere, what–” “Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger lightly to your lips.  His breath is hot against your skin. “I only came to keep you warm, pet.”

Heat Signature

“Poor thing.” Vere purrs.  “Your lips are so cold.”  He leans ever closer, his mouth hot over yours–hovering.  His other hand reaches for your face as well, nails trailing against your cheek in a teasing caress.

You feel even the thought of being cold leave your body, replaced instead by the unusual thrill he commands, that strange enthralling sway.

That heat you’ve come to associate with Vere; sweet tendrils of want that nestle in your bloodstream.

You squirm a little, though you can’t move much with him looming over you.

(You should probably do more to protest his intrusion into your room, you think to yourself, though, the majority of you is–curious, daresay even far too eager to–)

“Whatever trouble did you get up to that left you in such a state?”

At this you scoff, tilting your head back into the pillow and effectively knocking Vere’s finger from your lips.  

“As if you don’t know,” you accuse.

Vere looks entirely unperturbed by you shaking him off, his lithe fingers traveling freely along the newly displayed skin of your throat, making your pulse jump.

Vere chuckles at that, dark and silky.

“Being tight lipped about your adventures, hm?”  He angles your face just so, ensuring you meet his sharp eyes, his nose brushing up against yours.  “Not that it matters.  It so happens I do know what you’ve been up to.  Trespassing in places that don’t belong to you.”

“...It was an abandoned building.  I don’t think it really belonged to anyone.”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Vere says, “everything in this city belongs to someone, darling.  You just don’t know what belongs to who yet.”  He peers down at you with laughter in his expression, though there's a distinct edge to it that you can't quite place.

“So, you're here because that building belongs to you...?”

“Hmm, amongst other things.  However shall I make you apologize to me for this most egregious offense?”  He asks airily, shifting until he’s beside you rather than perched over you, resting his cheek in his hand and letting his eyes slip closed. He's the absolute picture of unbothered leisure.  

(You’re not fooled–he’s simply waiting for you to let your guard down before he pounces.)

You open your mouth to deny any debts on your part (though, if your ghost hunting spot was indeed Vere’s hideout, you really do feel guilty) but Vere cuts you off before you can speak.

“Alas, I suppose it’s not mine anymore.  Within a week it will reek of wet dogs and cheap booze. It's a lost cause now that those drooling reprobates know it's inhabitable.  A pity.  By Eridia's standards it really was divine in its heyday.  Good wine, music, dancing.  There was this portrait artist who would paint the performances…”

His tone remains light as he reminisces.  But the look he pins you with is dangerous: his eyes gleaming bright, his canines bared in an irreverent grin.

“I had such hopes and dreams of reviving the place myself.  Some of the dances were very scandalous.  You never did share with me your stance on dancing, did you?”

You stumble out an approximate answer.  It’s…harmless information to give, isn’t it?

Though, judging by how pleased Vere looks, you wonder if you should have refused to say.  He looks positively wicked as he ponders your answer aloud.  “Oh, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of talents to share.  In another life, perhaps I'd have put you on stage.  Though, I admit.  I find myself partial to a private show.”

And–as expected–the moment you let your guard down, he's in your space again, crowding you.  Heat and proximity and the softest brush of his lips against yours, light enough to send a thrill down your spine, curiosity and a want so deep it surprises you.

“Well?”  He purrs.  “Care to audition?”

You can't hide behind the excuse of supernatural sway or charm or the thrall of hypnotic sunglo eyes.  It's not Vere's power that controls you. It's your own gnawing desire; starvation and longing that draws you to him despite all sense.

Kissing Vere is heady.  Dizzying.  

Kissing Vere is like being in conversation with Vere–a constant of giving and taking, being chased after and running to keep up.  It’s enticing and alluring and decadent and never quite enough, over too soon even as you feel yourself losing air, the rush of blood and sensation threatening to overwhelm you.

He gives a parting nip to your bottom lip as he pulls away.

Then another one, playful, to your jaw.

When he presses his face into the side of your neck, you expect him to bite again.

What you don’t expect is for him to nuzzle into you, inhaling deeply before heaving a great sigh, his tail flopping lazily to land across you with a thump.

He’s officious as he rearranges the covers, ensuring your arms are tucked carefully away from him before he’s willing to fully settle into the bedding, pulling the blankets up around the both of you like a den.  He hums something low in his chest as he tucks himself up alongside you, long tail curled around your waist. 

It’s rhythmic–

purring.

And it’s…soothing, actually.

The weight of him, the warmth.  The incessant lamplight of the Amaryllis District, shining ever present through your window, is dim–tolerable, even, courtesy of Vere's magnificent shadow manipulations and the blankets sheltering you. 

The constant noise seems to fade away as well, obscured by the sound of purring. “Falling asleep when you have me in your bed, pet?  You really do try your luck…”

[xxplastic-cubexx]

I have to weigh in 'cause while I am definitely a service-top Erik truther, I do agree with the previous anon who said he could be a sub/top. I think his control freak personality becomes too much at times and he needs to CHILL OUT and relax a little, and the best way Charles can help him do that is by taking control from him in bed and ordering him about, but with Erik still 'topping' it lends the illusion of control while stripping the actual responsibility of decision-making from him.

the council's come to a Rather Unanimous Conclusion oh wow that was easy

[the-fab-fox]

Sorry for the extra long reblog but people need to reblog this one too. The addition here is so important as well and those stats ABSOLUTELY prove my point here.

Imagine if your favorite book author or favorite comic book artist or mangaka only got a bit of feedback. They'd probably think their work tanked, right? Why do you think tv shows literally have viewing numbers that are tracked? To see if the show is liked and how it is doing.

We don't have that. We only have the numbers on our works to see how they are doing but if y'all aren't putting those numbers in, how the heckle are we supposed to know if y'all like what we're doing? (Fanartist and fic writers and graphic creators and all content creators in these fandom spaces.)

Y'all gotta tell us. We aren't mind-readers and I guarantee that if you go right now after you read this and go write a comment on just one of your favorite past works that you've never commented on, it'll make the writers day. Even the ones that say they don't care about the numbers, I promise you that they'd absolutely still love to hear from their readers. Especially the ones that haven't got much love.

So yeah. And if y'all are ever curious about what stuff we wanna hear:

Keyboard Smash: No words, only emotion.

Emoticons and emojis: Don't wanna be perceived by words? Make up your own hieroglyphics and leave it for us the writers to figure out. 🤣

Wanna quote parts and talk about what you love about them? FUCKING YES PLEASE. (I personally love and eat that shit up. XD but I've also got a praise kink so y'know.)

Wanna make guesses on what's gonna happen next? AGAIN. Y'ALL ARE SMART MOTHERFUCKERS OKAY. I love when my readers catch on to where things are headed. It means I've placed my hints and paths and prose points well.

And, if the author accepts it, constructive criticism (that means you put real thought and considered from all angles and still feel that a part could be made better or really thought about all the parts in the writing that show why a character may not be fully in character).

If they don't say they accept constructive criticism on their profile/blog or in the tags of the story (or on the info bit before the story on tumblr) then you can ask if they would be willing for some or just don't send it.

Did you know that you can post pictures and GIFs in a comment? Using <img src="link">link title</img> you can include a gif to show what that fic did to you! XD

Have fun with it. Guys this is another chance to interact with people who not only love the very same media you love but also someone who is writing stuff that you love.

But yeah. Not an exhaustive list but here's some to start with.

And ofc if it's a fic you do not like or just don't like or agree with the subject matter, then do not comment on the fic. They do not need your hate and if it's not to your liking, then you have no business commenting on it.

Okay so this has been something I've been chewing on for a long while. About making this post I mean.

This one is to those who actively ingest fanfiction but seen to think it's okay to just read free fiction that people have put time and thought and crafted prose for your enjoyment.

So we ever ask for and all we ever want is for y'all to AT THE VERY LEAST hit that kudos button if you like the work. That is the BARE MINIMUM of what you SHOULD be doing. Especially all of you who say you're too nervous to comment or don't wish to be perceived. And if you don't want your account on the list, you can log out and send a guest kudos.

But as I said, BARE MINIMUM. If you loved the fic, if you got something out of it that left you feeling good and energized (or whatever angst does for y'all) then I want to take a moment and strongly urge you to comment, subscribe (if a wip), and bookmark those works. Did you know there's an option to even mark it as a Fic Recommendation? You can put notes in to and say why you liked it and things like that (DO NOT DO A RATING IN PUBLIC BOOKMARKS HOWEVER). And, you can indeed make them private! The writer still gets the number added to their stats but your bookmark we won't see.

Anyway, I now wanna turn your attention to Exhibit A:

This is a list of my best performing fics. Do you see the problem with this? The green highlights are the hits I've received for those fics. The red is the Kudos and comment threads. Now the kudos is obviously right?

Let's look at my number one fic right now, Accidentally in Love (a Malleyuu fic from Twisted Wonderland fandom). It's the seventh fic in a romance series. As you can see, it's doing great as far as hits, right? And I know it's an amazing fic from the comments I have received and just from rereading it myself. Note, I am probably the biggest bully to myself as @sunshineandteddybears and @mellosdrawings and @romantichopelessly can tell you in great detail. So when I am saying it's really damn good, you can probably trust it's gonna be pretty damn good. And yet, a fic that has 4K hits only has 119 kudos. And now to bring your attention to the comment threads. So honestly with how bad readers are on actually commenting (which by the way if you log off you can send anonymously as a guest—you'll have to put in your email address but we authors won't see that)... 107 seems pretty good right? But you guys don't see that. You see what's on the info for the story. Unfortunately, on the fic info at the top of the story, it counts every single comment (including the Author's). (The comment threads is just every single starting comment, i.e. the first comment received from each commenter.)

The thing is, I—and probably quite a few other writers—do respond to every single comment.

So that means where the info on my fic itself says 230 comments, in reality, I'm at half that when I subtract my half of the comments. So that's actually 115 comments from other people. So some people might see that 230 and think oh they got a lot of comments so I don't think they want to hear from me or I can't be fucked and they're already doing good so.

NO. NO. NO. Do not look at the numbers as a guide if a fic is good or not. Do not look at the numbers and think that we don't need or deserve to get any more. And finally WE WANT TO HEAR FROM Y'ALL.

Excuses need to stop.

Speaking of numbers. Here's my over all stats current on AO3.

In the 3 years on this AO3 account (I've had others in the past and accounts on ff.net and live journal. I'm an oldie fanfic writer lol. 21 years of fanfic. My gods. 🤣) It didn't used to be like this guys. Back in the day I'd get 12 plus comments and this is on stuff a teenager wrote.

We have got to get back to the point of supporting each other and building each other up. Also while I'm at it, I have a huge beef with the fact that fanartists get so much more positive feedback and replies and comments, but the thing is, even their numbers are skewed. You can go into the notes of a fanart on here that has 10k notes to see they have maybe 100-1K reblogs (if that, I'm being generous) and maybe 10 or so replies (if turned on) and the rest are all likes. EVERYONE has been on here long enough by now to know that likes do nothing to get a post in the algorithm and tags only do so much. Reblogs are the only way their art (or our fanfictions for people who post them on here) gets seen! By sharing!

So y'all gotta get better. Yes, we write for ourselves first, but ultimately a story is meant to be shared with everyone and feedback should not be optional.

TLDR:

IF YOU FUCKING LIKE A FANFIC. KUDOS AT THE VERY LEAST BUT BE BETTER. COMMENT. BOOKMARK. SUBSCRIBE IF IT'S A WIP YOU LOVE. (Like, comment and reblog if on Tumblr)

IF YOU FUCKING LIKE A FANART ON TUMBLR. COMMENT. LIKE. REBLOG.

DO BETTER AS READERS AND US WRITERS AND ARTISTS WILL GIVE YOU THE WORLD (AND MANY OTHER WORLDS TO BOOT)

That is all. Please reblog the fuck out of this if you agree.

(and tagging my current and last fandoms so this can get in fandom spaces where it needs to be.)

[ruvviks]

The Dobrynin family is a corpo family through and through, rooted in Arasaka and Orbital Air going back by several generations; though their powerful position within the corporate world ends with the children of Nadya and Matvey Dobrynin. With Vitali and Daniil fired from Arasaka and Kang Tao respectively— the former indirectly getting his parents fired, too— and Roksana having refused to set foot within a megacorporation from the start, the family begins crumbling apart at the very seams when clashing interests lead to grudges, betrayal, and pointless acts of revenge. ↳ read the unrevised fic here if you're interested!

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @roseeway, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree;

@kanos, @swordcoasts, @ordinarymaine, @claudiawolf, @strafethesesinners

[reinedeslys-central]

more!! again!! for the nico after blood of olympus fic!! actually I thought of this while writing the last one but I just finished it.

His elbows buckle and he lets himself fall into Will, snorting at his theatrical groan under the weight. They lay there for a second until Will shoves him gently, and Nico lets him manoeuvre them into a more comfortable position.

"Hi," he whispers, moving a curl away from his cheek. The greenish tint of the loft window casts a weird shadow over Will's face.

"Hey yourself," Will murmurs back, winking.

Nico rolls his eyes. "You look like Apollo when you do that. Please stop." Will squawks in protest.

"I do not! Also, since when do you remember what Apollo looks like? Actually, no, don't answer that, you can't bring up my dad while we're in bed, Nico, why would you do this to me?"

Now it's Nico's turn to sputter and whack Will in the chest - getting another dramatic oof and a laugh in return - before turning around to face Hazel's bed. He's not sure when he'll ever be able to sleep facing the wall. Will can't do it either.

As Will's arms curl around his waist and draw him back against him, just like they did back in the infirmary that one day, he thinks maybe he'd be okay trying that with him sometime. One day, in a house with gates, no longer wary of monsters.

Will noses the back of his neck, causing him to twitch. "What is it?"

Will's answering smile presses through the rough cotton of his t-shirt. "Nothing, sunshine."

Nico frowns under the covers. "Hey, what do you think of houses with gates?" He whispers.

"Gates? Well, it'd be safer, I guess, but we'd lose the neighbours coming over -"

"As if you want to see random people at the door anyway. What if they're monsters?"

"Oh, come on, darlin', I'm from Austin. Of course I gotta keep space for the neighbours to come knocking."

"…Fences? Actually, hey, why'd you assume I was talking about us? Obviously - Obviously I was talking about random. Random houses. For architecture reasons."

Will muffles his laugh into the back of his neck, again. "Oh, my bad. And I'm only here because you ripped a stitch on the lava wall yesterday."

Nico feels his ears warm.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"..Still."

Will reels him in closer until his back hits his chest and he can press a soft peck to Nico's still-red ears. "I think a fence is a great idea, by the way. We could ask Hazel for help with some ward stones too, like you have in the cabin. Gotta make sure we've got at least one window and standing space in every direction, though, or at least in the east, because you know my dad would sulk if he didn't get to scream me awake in the morning."

Nico's blush gets worse.

"Now who's talking about your dad in bed?" He gives up on pretending. Will sees him through every time, anyway. "Also, shrines, obviously, and we need a spot to stargaze."

"Yeah, shrines, obviously. Maybe just yours, mine, and Lady Hestia's though, or else everyone else is gonna get pissy."

Nico barks out a laugh like it's shocked out of him. "Pissy? Don't let them hear you say that."

Will holds him tighter and settles against the pillows. "Sure thing, sunshine. Now can we sleep?"

"Yeah, yeah."

It's not long after that that Will's breath evens out behind him, his muscles untensing. Nico knows he's got a few minutes yet, so he thinks.

Today was…. good.

Today was nice. Normal, even. Just a day of camp schedules, working in the infirmary, an admittedly short campfire, and this. No monsters, and no mistakes. No deaths, but..

Unbidden, the moments in the infirmary come to mind. He thinks of helping Will scrub in for his one surgery of the day, a kid that had gotten parts of an arrow stuck in their leg a week ago and hadn't noticed til yesterday. He thinks of yesterday during capture-the-flag, stepping in and desperately trying to copy what he'd watched Will do, because Lydia was hanging crooked from a tree and there was no one else around but him-

He thinks of Patroclus tying the straps of Achilles' armour, watching his lover sleep peacefully. He thinks of what Connor had told him about at the campfire weeks ago, of Silena Beauregard taking on a drakon when Clarisse declared the Ares Cabin wouldn't be fighting.

He thinks he might understand.

Lydia wasn't the same (thank the gods), but if there was something to be done that only Will could do right, yet couldn't, and the only way Nico could take up his mantle would be to die trying - then, yeah. He'd do whatever it would take for these kids. To do what Will would do. He's gone to Tartarus already, hasn't he? At worst, he'd try his best and greet his father early if he failed to survive. Nico could even give Charon a tip on the way in for the hell of it, why not?

If there is a luxury that comes from being a child of Hades, after all, it is that dying is not the thing that scares him.

There's a brazier still lit outside the window. Its glow falls in slits across their bed.

Will grumbles, pushing his feet forward until their ankles are wound together. The sheets shift.

Nico smiles into the dark, into the chirping of crickets and the soft glow of the fireflies out the window, and falls asleep.

more for this fic:

scene 0 - prologue-ish scene 1 - the library of social awkwardness or here (or in my heart, 'kidney function is not a right, it's a privilege' lol)

general writing directory

also lmk if you want more lore. I am so down to talk about this fic + the worldbuilding ideas I have for it in the notes it is unreal

[spookberry]

Okay back in my ff.net days, I read a dp fic where Sam had a cousin named Damien and he was really only introduced as a plot device and the plot of the fic was Sam was convinced that Danny was gay (despite the fact that he was dating her) and decided to use her cousin to prove it. He only shows up in one scene and was generally like a snotty rich guy she didnt get along with much.

What haunts me about this is like, I'd just assumed that was an oc... but what if it was actually a crossover fic and I just didnt realize it at the time? Like dpxdc at that time was very Dick Greyson centered in terms of the dc, and like people barely acknowledged the other robins even existing cuz most people were basing their knowledge off of like Teen Titans.

It was probs just a coincidence. I don't think it was meant to reference Damien Wayne.....however,, because I refuse to go looking to confirm anything, I'll just never know