#soliloquy-dawn-ask

[idle-soliloquy]

omg dawn ur an eruri fan?! excellent taste i must say 😌

YES 🙌 excellent taste, indeed!

They’re the loml rivalling Jeggy - I will never forget them, I might be obsessed with Jeggy now but… they’re special. They got me through the pandemic, helped me deal with some tough shit.

Also, I have a type - Reg and Levi are just… my perfect little men.

[alienoresimagines]

For the ask game, 1, 3, 15, and 28!

Thank you for the ask, Dawn ❤️ Starting with the last question because if I want anyone to remember one thing from this post, it's those recs so putting this in the Clegan tag for more visibility for the fic recs🫡

28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much

The Mota fandom has so many talented writers who share absolute masterpieces so it was so so hard to narrow it down to 3 but I tried to put 3 authors I don't see as often as others in fic recs post and I hope that for those who don't know them, this'll be your sign to read their works ❤️ So, in no particular order and wih hope that I didn't mess up any link :

@amiserableseriesofevents (Link to AO3)

I devour absolutely every single one of Ginia's fics, even those that tear my heart apart because she's the devil and she loves to make everyone suffer. Some of her fics are the definition of "The love is there. It just simply isn't enough" and all of her fics are "The love is there". The way she writes the Buckies falling in love in different ways is so beautiful every single time, no matter what situation she's put them in. I remember Love At Second Sight to be one of the first fics I've ever read for Clegan and it'll always be one of my It fic. Also I think it takes a special kind of skills to be able to write characters in AU while keeping the essence of those characters because they are so shaped by canon that it can be hard to see who they are if you take those circumstances away but Ginia nails it every single time. She has a couple of different AUs, but they're all undeniably John and Gale, and reading them falling in love and getting together in all those different situations is so so wonderful because with her writing it doesn't feel like you're reading but more like you're there, like a little familiar on the protagonist shoulder <3 Only nobody hears when you inevitably howl because there was too much feeling for you to handle lol

Special mentions to those stories that have my entire heart :

I think the love I bear you should make you not to die or the Timelines AU my beloved, precious darling

The man I've looked for that may or may not be one of my comfort fics of all time

ships in the night aka I might just die if they don't meet again and their almost stays an almost because this AU has my life, I would sacrifice anything to have more of them

@caustinen (Link to AO3)

Obviously there's the Hollywood AU that has a very special place in my heart but every headcanon and fic of theirs 😍 I think about those quite often, especially sharp dressed man that's one of my favorite smut fic in the clegan tag! I just love their overall takes on Gale and John, and on Clegan. Even if it's not set in canon, it's always so clearly them that you have no difficulty picturing them in that universe and that really is a feat ❤️ And the diversity of all those universes is mindblowing, I love it, so much creativity and different scenarios to put the Buckies in 🥹

@majorbuckyegan (Link to AO3)

Definitely one of those writers I get a fangirl moment for when they write a comment on one of my fics lol, their never saw the sun shining so bright fic (or Five kisses that Bucky stole from Buck, and one kiss that Buck stole in return) lives in my head rent-free. I can't tell you how many times I've read it and imagined it as a daydream to help me fall asleep, it's one of my favorite fics in the entire world. Also I read it when I hadn't watched Mota yet so that's one of the fics that introduced me to them and I wouldn't be surprised if my own characterization of the Buckies is lowkey inspired by those works like this one that I've read before watching the show. It's so soft and tender, and yet you never really forget the war. The war is everywhere but so is the love and the balance between the two in every single fic is an absolute gem every time. For tonight, let's love like there's no goodbye is also one of my favorite fics in the fandom, the way you just go into John's head and his thoughts and you can feel how much they love each other is so 🥹❤️❤️

It's come to my attention that all three of these writers are also fantastic smut writers so that's important too, especially because personally, I'm not too much of a smut person, my favorite parts of smut are the feelings involved lol, and all three write pure love making, the feelings are so beautiful and merge so well with the smut, I love it 🥹

Also cheating a bit because technically that's a fourth writer but I have to mention you, Dawn 🥹 The Atonement AU is especially dear to my heart, and the snippets you've shared with us are absolutely stunning! I'm truly in love with your writing style, I don't know how to explain it but it's like the love Gale and John have for each other is so raw that it actually kind of chokes me up a bit, because it's so big and they love each other so much 🥹 And the way you weave words together is so lyrical and gripping that you don't just read what they're feeling, you're feeling it with them if you know what I mean. And I'm repeating myself but, even if I know it might not save them, the love in your writing is so overwhelming that it's obvious that you're loving writing it and that might be my favorite part of it <3

This was very nice to do, it's been a while since I've dived in my bookmarks like that! Also served me as a reminder that most of those 180 Clegan fics were bookmarked before I got the nerve to start commenting on fics so adding on the new Year's resolution to go through them again and leave a comment <3

That got very long so under the read more are the answers to the other questions :)

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Well. A typical me-fic starts as a could-be-2k-fic then I start yapping and it ends up over 6k so I suppose I'll try to think of what makes me yap the most. Definitely either pining that the protagonist (usually Gale lol) doesn't see is mutual or the Buckies already being in love and them waxing poetry about each other 🥹 So fluffy/pining love with too many metaphors is probably my comfort zone 🫡

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

I don't know if it's a trope per say, but horror or too gory stuff I'd say. I'm not really into reading it so writing it would be pure suffering I think 😂 Whump and wounds I might dip my toes in but body horror, painful transformation are definitely not in my range

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

Oooh this is so tough because when I write I see the scenes in my head like a movie, like the camera closing on certain elements for examples 😭

I'd say either I'm On The Run With You My Sweet Love because I love the setting of the lake in a summer's day, how carefree they can both be and the softness of their love or Never Coming Down With Your Hand In Mine because I could see it so clearly in my mind while I was writing it, the way their hands compliment each other and the contrast between how rough they look vs how gentle they are with the other. Also I could really see the winter light filtering through the window, with little feckles of dust in the air and you can see them sitting side by side, all reddened cheeks from the cold that turn to blushes because they're both in love 🥹 I would love to see Gale's sweet face as he smiles at the ground and John's looking at him so fondly and loving 🥹 The shot of Gale squeezing John's hand back would be so special to me 🥹

[rosyandraw]

Hello ❤️ just jumping in here to say, I am immersing myself in the Captive Prince fandom again after a long break, and I’m loving NMFY so fucking much—I devoured half since yesterday and aiming to catch up by Sunday evening.

These two. 🥹 My heart is fluttering. Breaking. Doing summersaults.

Thank you so much for sharing.

Hey beautiful!

Thank you so much, it always means a lot to me to know it resonates and that someone liked it enough to come say hi

Thank you for loving it as much as I do, I hope when the end eventually arrives it will have been worth the wait 💕

[ellitx]

Chapter 20: Wind's Soliloquy

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

previous || next

art belongs to: srr_yo

word count: 6.3k

           The rain had been pouring ever since. It never seemed to stop but it was not strong and heavy, fortunately. Yet the frequent raindrops made the land so gloomy as if the Hydro Archon was crying for days.

           A young maiden ran towards a nearby shelter, her shoes stepping on the muddy field and forming a small splash with each stride. Alas, she shielded herself from the cold droplets.

           The flowers in her arms were wet yet they still retained their shape and form. As much as she wanted to complain and scream at the sky for ruining her journey, she feared the Anemo Archon may hear her and punish her for saying such unthinkable things.

           She sighed disappointingly. Her fingers buried against the bouquet and held it tightly close to her. Her trip near the tower’s entrance had a purpose. She wasn’t aimlessly wandering, nor was she just a citizen passing through.

           No, she was here to ask for blessing from her nation’s god and his beloved. Legend has said if you offer an offering near the entrance, your wishes will be heeded. Of course, at first, she had doubts. There was no such thing as miracles. But she took back her word when an unbelievable and impossible incident became possible.

           Shortly after Ludi Harpastum, a festival of joy and celebration, a calamity struck. A massive storm surged. Houses were damaged, and the once vibrant fields lay ravaged. The disaster had devastated her family's home. Thankfully, the Knights of Favonius offered to let the victims stay at their headquarters for the meantime while they restore the city. And one thing she noticed, in particular, was how frequently the villagers are going outside the city to travel to the old broken tower.

           At first, she thought of it as simply gathering materials and the like. And her friends were tagging along with them, so she didn’t pay too much attention to it. But when those expeditions had become nothing with no result, she had grown suspicious.

           Everyone was bringing flowers, wines, and food.

           What were those for? That was the first thing she asked her mother after she returned to her “expedition”. Her mother smiled tiredly, patting her head affectionately before she motioned her to sit next to her.

           It seemed the offerings were meant to seek favor from the Anemo Archon.

           “By offering gifts and prayers to Lord Barbatos and his beloved, the city will be restored.”

           The daughter’s eyebrows scrunched together, her doubts growing further. “But will that really work? We can’t just simply sit still and pray then— poof!” She raised her arms, motioning them slowly like acting out an explosion, “Everything will magically return to normal,” she continued before flopping back to the edge of the bed.

           “Oh, you silly girl!” Her mother pulled her to her chest and playfully messed her hair which earned her a huff, but a lighthearted one which the mother fondly recognizes.

           The giggles and laughter died shortly as the dawn of silence took over the room. The candle was their only source of light and despite the poor lighting, she could easily notice there’s something on her mother’s mind that’s been distracting her.

           “Mom?” She called out. Her mother’s eyes flickered before snapping her gaze to her and forcing a smile.

           “It’s getting late, love. Do you want to hear a bedtime story?”

           It was ridiculous. Laughable even, that her mother just offered to tell her bedtime stories when she’s already in her teens.

           “I think I’ll pass. I’m too old already for bedtime stories,” she replied, trying to lighten the atmosphere with a playful grin. “Who said you’re too ‘old’ for bedtime stories?” The mother feigned shock, her tone higher than before.

           She chuckled, shaking her head at her mother's antics. “Mom, you know what I mean. I’m sixteen!”

           Her mother's expression softened, a flicker of sadness in her eyes that didn't go unnoticed. “You'll always be my little one, no matter how old you are.”

           The daughter’s heart tugged in guilt then sighed in defeat. Whether it’s because her mother was manipulating her feelings or not, she’s unable to resist her pleading gaze. “F-fine, I wouldn’t mind hearing another story as long as it’s you telling me.” The woman smiled widely and supported her weight by resting her face on her palm.

           “Legend tells of a corner of the city that has been forgotten by the wind.”

           Her fingers brushed over her hair, tucking it behind her daughter’s ear whilst lovingly gazing at her, taking notes of the changes in her features. She knows her mother is being sentimental again over how quickly she grows. She understands those sentiments yet it’s best not to speak of the topic and make it depressing when the blitheness was there a minute ago.

           “To reach that place, one must stand before the fountain and close their eyes, then wait for thirty-five heartbeats, then walk seven circles clockwise around the fountain followed by seven further circles anticlockwise. Upon opening one's eyes, one will find they have arrived at a little shop…”

           The daughter closed her eyes and let her ears envelop the tune of her kin’s soft voice. Time had slowed down between them. It was only her and her mother together in this lone room with a single stalk of candle. She didn’t mind. After all, her voice was calming and soothing.

             She didn’t exactly remember when and how it happened. Because by the time she woke up and heard ruckus and clamor outside of the Favonius’s Headquarters, her eyes couldn’t believe what she saw.

           Everything was restored. As if the aftermath of the storm wasn’t there from the beginning… Everyone was cheering, crying, applauding, and gathering at the plaza where the statue of the nation’s god stands. She didn’t bother changing her clothes and doing her morning routine.

           She needs to understand— know— what in the world just happened. Pushing and squeezing her lithe frame against the closely packed multitude, she looked for any familiar faces to answer her horde of questions that began to bubble over her head.

           She called out to her friend and finally freed herself from the applauding audience to stand next to her friend.

           The girl's friend turned with a wide grin, their eyes reflecting the joyous atmosphere. "Can you believe it? It's like a miracle! The city is restored!"

           "But how?" she questioned, her eyes scanning the crowd for anyone who might have answers.

           "Rumors say it was the Anemo Archon himself," they replied, pointing towards the statue of the god. "They say he granted our prayers and restored our home."

           She gazed at the statue, still skeptical of the sudden turn of events. “Wh-what are you talking about?” Her lips stuttered, unable to fathom their collective and unanimous praise.

           The corner of the friend's lips trembled. Their hands were shaking even if it was already on the girl's shoulder. She could feel them shaking— shaking like a scared dog but there was a big grin on their face.

           “The Anemo Archon forgave us of our sins.”

           That was the last thing she heard. The mutual and unified cries of the civilians, priests, and nuns, all together as they clasped their hands to one to honor and pray for their lord.

            But something felt amiss, a whisper of doubt amidst the jubilation. Why would the Anemo Archon intervene now? What sins were they being forgiven for? The questions swirled in her mind, leaving a lingering unease.

           If it was indeed the Anemo Archon's doing, she couldn't help but feel grateful. Yet, she wondered what had truly transpired. The mystery of the sudden restoration only deepened her curiosity.

           But days after days of trying to uncover the truth, all of those doubts are nothing but a disguise for her lack of faith in her god. She was just being an unfaithful devotee of Lord Barbatos. How could she? And she truly felt remorseful and guilty for having doubts of the Anemo Archon’s capabilities.

           He had saved their nation more than once aside from the recent events of the storm, and that was enough for her to be grateful to him. If it truly was a blessing from the Anemo Archon, a miracle of wherein she can believe in it, then please…

           The bouquet in her hold was settled on the concrete flooring. She ignored the raindrops collecting into the fabric of her blouse, focusing on her prayers and her prayers alone. Her fingers clasped together, intertwining into a tight grip as she muted out every noise, every raindrop.

           “Oh, Anemo Archon. I do not wish for anything but for the good health of my mother. I implore you to please guard her against illness and adversity,” she whispered fervently, her voice barely audible over the patter of the rain.

           Her mother had always been her pillar of strength, her unwavering support. The thought of losing her was too much to bear. So, with her heart heavy with worry, she offered her prayers to the divine, seeking protection and healing for her loved one.

  —

             The tempest of the snowstorm was undoubtedly so cold that even his cloak was not enough for him to provide the warmth he sought. Venti peeked over the window of his room, watching over the tower looming over them so ominously.

           A little jingling was heard next to him and it was enough to recognize who it was even if he was not looking where his little friend was.

           “We are so close to the outside world…” He mumbled to himself, vigilant eyes unfaltering as if he was fighting against the mere stack of bricks. “And tomorrow we’re going to face Decarabian…” He shifted his gaze to the figure sleeping on the other side of the bed.

           The little wisp levitated over to him slowly and tilted its head before letting out another chime of jingle. Venti chuckled and lightly patted the two little sprouts sticking out of its head.

           “I’m not afraid,” He replied. “But I am afraid of losing her…”

           He glanced at the sleeping figure once more, a wave of emotions crashing within him. The weight of the impending battle was heavy on his shoulders, but his love for her, and his determination to protect her, was even heavier. The wind stirred outside, a reminder of his responsibility to liberate the nation, but in this quiet moment, his thoughts were only for her.

           Barbatos’s two dotted white eyes squeezed, reassuring his friend as he twirled over to you and gave another set of ringing. He patiently waited if he had another word to say, but it was enough of an indication when the wisp returned to lodge next to him. Venti easily deciphered what he was saying:

           “I may be a wisp, but I will do everything in my power to protect the both of you.”

           His eyes creased before he cupped his hands and gently lifted Barbatos so they could see each other eye to eye. “Thank you. That means a lot. I started this rebellion myself and I’d be willing to do anything. However…”

           The young bard briefly paused, staring absently at where you lay and Barbatos followed his gaze. It was not unusual for Venti to be deep in his thoughts. With how they have often been together, it’s one characteristic of him that Barbatos took notice of.

           But unlike his deep pondering, within his deep blue eyes he could see swirls of uneasiness. Eyes of worry lost in contemplation, reflected a storm of concern. The furrowed brow framed windows into a troubled mind, where the weight of thoughts etched delicate lines around the eyes. In their depths, shadows danced, revealing a tumultuous sea of unease. The gaze, once bright, now carried a subdued flicker, like embers struggling against the encroaching darkness.

           Barbatos was quiet but he slowly approached his friend and flew over his shoulder. The wisp already knew what was bothering him, but he didn’t break the silence. Rather, he let the silence consume them.

           He already knew this war would be a matter of life and death. Full of bloodshed and ruthless crashing of swords and greatswords all for the sake of freedom. They had lost several allies, what more if Venti loses you?

           What more if you lose him?

           Venti bitterly laughed to himself, catching Barbatos off-guard. He wanted to soothe his friend, but the cold sweat running over to the nape of Venti’s neck and the clenching of his fist over to his shorts was enough to come to a conclusion: Venti was scared.

           How come when he’s this close— they’re so close, he began to cower? He prepared himself in and out. From days to weeks, weeks to months, he led and planned everything with precision. Did he doubt his capabilities? Or was he scared they would never obtain freedom? Perhaps the weight of responsibility pressed harder than he let on.

           The impending battle with Decarabian, a foe of colossal proportions, bore down on him. The prospect of facing an archaic power, an entity that once ruled over Mondstadt, sent shivers down even the god of freedom’s spine.

           Venti cast a sidelong glance at the peacefully slumbering figure beside him. In the quiet of the room, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest served as a stark reminder of what he stood to lose. The very thought of harm befalling you awakened a vulnerability he tried to bury beneath the bravado.

           He sighed, a mix of frustration and self-awareness. The war-torn history and the battles fought in the shadows, all led to this moment. Yet, the proximity of his friend, the one who anchored him, uncovered a layer of trepidation he never fully acknowledged.

           The little wisp fluttered near him, its tiny form a manifestation of loyalty. It chimed softly, a melody of encouragement. Venti managed a rueful smile, realizing that even Barbatos wasn’t immune to the currents of fear and doubt. The approaching conflict, an inevitable clash with the remnants of a bygone era, hung heavy in the air.

           Perhaps it was fate upon meeting two important people,  in Barbatos’s life; and never did he foresee he’d forge a deeper relationship with them.

           Amidst the raging storms, he thought he would never be heard but alas there a boy clad in a dark cloak with a lyre in his hand appeared in front of him.

           “Barbatos,” he called. “If anything happens to me, protect [Name] for me, alright?” Venti stood up from his seat and discreetly walked over to your bed. Barbatos watched from a distance. The bard’s hand gently brushed over your tousled locks as he lovingly smoothed the disarray of strands.

           Venti's eyes held a tenderness, a silent promise etched within the gentle caress. The room was filled with a hushed intimacy, interrupted only by the soft rustle of hair beneath his fingers. He delicately gathered a handful of your hair, the strands flowing through his fingers like silken threads. Holding them close to his lips, he pressed a tender kiss upon them.

           “Watch over her. Promise me that. Please…”

           Barbatos, observing this silent exchange, nodded in understanding. The air in the room seemed to shimmer with an unspoken bond, a connection that transcended the uncertainties of the impending conflict.

  —

             Freedom. That’s all that matters. That’s all that matters to the people of Mond. Freedom is everything to them, and if it were to be taken from them, they would rebel and fight for it to get what is rightfully theirs.

           That is what everyone fought for. That is what Venti fought for when the tyrant locked them up. And that freedom is what he promised to seek for his dearly beloved.

           The promise… That’s right, the promise.

           Barbatos made a promise to his friend: to guard and keep you safe from your father’s wrath. That he achieved. He did not need any of those extravagant praises from everyone, or a luxurious celebration that he protected the last survivor of the royal family. Your love and attention were enough for him as his honorarium, and if his plans went smoothly, then he couldn’t ask for more than your presence.

           But what about his promise to you? Not as Venti, not as Barbatos the Anemo Archon, but as Barbatos the wind wisp. He faintly recalled from his memories, vague echoes of your voice ringing in his head to protect your dear. He could hear your cries, he could vision your tearful face, and he could smell the faint aroma of smoke and blood from the past.

           “Barbatos, please. Protect Venti…”

           He stood at the precipice of conflicting roles, torn between the weight of his promise to the girl he cherished and the duty he bore as the Anemo Archon. The memories of her pleas echoed through the chambers of his mind, each word a poignant reminder of the sacrifice she had made.

           As he prepared for the impending battle against Decarabian, Barbatos couldn't shake the dual nature of his existence. The freedom he had fought for was now intertwined with the personal pledge he made to safeguard Venti—the mortal guise he wore to be closer to you.

           The wind wisp, a manifestation of his divine essence, hovered beside him, a silent witness to the internal struggle. Barbatos knew that protecting Venti meant more than shielding the bard from physical harm; it meant preserving the essence of the person he had become through his interactions with you.

           The wind wisp chimed softly, a comforting melody that seemed to say, "I'll protect what you hold dear." At that moment, Barbatos made a silent vow to honor both promises—to secure the freedom of Mondstadt and to shield the vulnerable heart of the bard who had become an inseparable part of his divine existence.

           Yet no matter how much he convinced himself that he still preserved the life of Venti for all these years, those were merely pathetic excuses he gave to himself that he was unable to protect him. That was the harsh truth he wished to never know. The harsh truth he often ran away from. The harsh truth is the least he wanted you to know. And because of that harsh truth, you will never be able to uphold your promise to Venti to travel the world with him.

           You were living a life of lies.

           “I hate you,”

           Such vile words escaped from your delicate lips, coated with nothing but hatred. All love was lost and diminished. Resentment smoldered within you, a slow-burning fire that refused to be extinguished.

           “I hate you!”

           Three venomous words stung into his heart and soul. His eyes, once alight with the sparkle of mischief, were now dimmed by the torrent of tears that streamed down his ethereal face. He reached out his hand to you as tears cascaded down like a torrent.

           “[Name], no… Don’t leave me, please!”

           His voice cracked, carrying the weight of a thousand heartbreaks. His outstretched hand trembled, fingers desperately reaching for something that was slipping away.

           The once carefree Anemo Archon was now a broken deity, his essence shattered by the cruelty of your hatred.

           “No, no, no!! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me here!!”

           His chest heaved with sobs, each tear a testament to the agony that consumed him. The celestial realm seemed to weep alongside him, mirroring the storm within his soul.

           Barbatos jolted upright in bed, gasping for breath. The echoes of your anguished words still reverberated in his ears, a haunting melody that refused to fade. The room felt oppressive, shadows dancing on the walls like spectral remnants of the nightmare that had gripped him.

           His chest heaved as he tried to dispel the lingering emotions from the dream. The remnants of your hatred clung to him, a weight that threatened to drown him in a sea of regret. The moon cast a soft glow through the window, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had unfolded in the dream.

           With trembling hands, Barbatos wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, realizing that he had been pulled into the depths of a waking nightmare. The images of your tears and the venomous words hung in the air, a phantom reality that felt too close for comfort.

           He whipped his head and cast his eyes promptly into the quiet room until they landed on a maiden deep in her slumber. Barbatos sighed in relief and for a moment, he simply sat there, the silence broken only by the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat. The nightmare had been a cruel reminder of the consequences of his choices, a vivid manifestation of the fears that lingered in the recesses of his heart.

           The lies Barbatos had forged for years were now haunting him. The lies that shielded you from the brutal reality all for the sake of selfish love. Barbatos had meticulously woven a tapestry of deception to protect you from the burden of his divine obligations, but mostly from his growing sick and obsessive love for you.

           You still haven’t discovered he was the new Anemo Archon until the blonde traveler told you everything about him during the night of the Ludi Harpastum festival. Barbatos scoffed, recalling how you were so caught off guard when the truth finally surfaced after you were separated from him. If only that pesky traveler and his fairy companion just minded their own business, he wouldn't need to cast you into a deep yet tranquil slumber.

           With great reluctance, he drew himself up and looked at the girl who held a very special place in his heart. You’ve brought so much joy and happiness to his life, not to mention more laughter than anyone else ever could. To see you seething with anger and searing pain would bring a weight on his chest like nothing else.

           Barbatos slowly embraced your hand to his, slipping his fingers in between, and softly brushed his lips along your knuckles, kissing each of them one by one. His vision blurred as his gaze wandered towards your angelic features, but a sudden pang of panic gripped his heart.

           “I didn’t knock her hard, have I?” he asked himself, his mind suddenly clouded with worry. The archon sighed deeply, berating himself over his unplanned actions. It was fortunate he still knew how to wield his powers and put you to sleep. He just hoped he didn’t dose you too much where it’ll take you years for you to wake up. He could only hope you’ll wake up soon, otherwise he might throw another outburst in Mondstadt.

           You've always brought light into his world and filled him with warmth. In a matter of minutes, you've managed to affect him in ways he never thought possible. He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes tightly, replaying the many times he found comfort in your arms or gave him a loving smile. There were many things he would like to say, but for now, his turbulent state of mind is not helping him.

           Barbatos groaned in frustration, ruffling his head in sheer irritation. It took every ounce of strength within him to restrain himself from throttling some ignorant traveler. Those ungrateful bastards deserve to pay dearly for ruining his precious morning.

           His rigid frame softened and he shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. Barbatos slumped on the floor next to you and hugged his knees.

           As if afraid to wake up, it feels like a waste to even blink within this dream. And to think that the other side of the sky is so vast… Does he deserve this ending?

           Sometimes some things can’t be helped. While wounded by his own helplessness, the present in all its clumsiness, is changing into a brilliance of fabric reality.

           The more I protect it, the more it looks fragile. And the more I steal it, the more I want it…

           Barbatos sighed, the weight of his internal conflict bearing down on him. You’re everything to him—his source of strength, his light in the darkness, and the light at the end of the tunnel he was always seeking. The guilt that slowly piled upon him like countless millstones on a tree of regret and the past memories won’t let him move forward, hindering him from doing what’s right.

           He knew you deserved better than what he had given you. He’s been hiding a lot of things from you: his identity, his status as an archon, and even the death of Venti.

           Barbatos tugged his hair tighter, his frustration palpable in the agitated movements. He couldn't escape the relentless truth that bound him — because to you, Barbatos was merely your wisp friend. He was not the Anemo Archon, and certainly not the free-spirited bard.

           It frustrates me because I can’t be him and it begins to burn at my throat.

           Biting his lips, blood drew out. How cruel was he to decide to pose as your lover? He only wanted to be loved, cherished, and adored. To hide behind masks of illusions and cruelty? It’s not what you deserve.

           He clutched at his chest as if trying to quell the searing pain that echoed through his heart. The memories of carefree days as Venti taunted him like elusive specters. The laughter, the music, the unburdened joy — they felt like distant echoes mocking him in his current divine form.

           Barbatos needs you. Venti needs you. He fumblingly sauntered to your bed and gently opened his palms, caressing your soft skin. He felt a newborn warmth along him.

           The deceptive dance of his identity left him feeling vulnerable. The looming possibility that you might leave him once you wake up and still remember the truth was a haunting specter. Every moment spent with you was tinged with the fear of losing the connection he so desperately craved. For now, everything is falling into place. He'll continue to act as him even if it means to deceive you. But that won't ever happen again, he'll be careful— cautious— about everything he does around you. The past will never haunt him anymore. It will never touch you.

        You will never know. It was all a dream. A nightmare. But it's better not to mention anything of what happened that night, isn't it? It's the best and safest option. The world that should be smiling kindly to you and his friend reverted to his direction, taking their wishes that were never his from the beginning.

           There’s a place he yearns for but can never reach. The place he wants so much but can never grasp. He almost forgot to wish when he gazed in the distance.

           In his tightly clenched fist, his heartbeat is heating up again. Leaning down, he rested his head against your stomach and closed his eyes, breathing in the same pattern as yours in rhythm.

           “I love you,” he whispered, fluttering his lashes to where you lay and gazing at you oh so lovingly. His fingers trickled to your arm, clinging and clutching, before traveling to your bare neck. “You love me too, right, [Name]? You’ve always said you love me.”

           He crawled over you, his physique looming over your comatose state. His teal irises glittered as he peered closely at your sleeping face. His lips curved upwards in a smile before pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

           That dreamless sleep, the veil between worlds will fall aside. His lingering touch, beaming with emotions he wasn’t aware of, glistening with affection, reverence, and lust all at once, creating a warm nimbus aura around his body. All while his unguarded words formed something like a prayer.

           “Oh love, you’re so pretty… so tender, and so beautiful.”

           His slender finger gently traced the contours of your face, tracing every outline of the contour of your nose, cheeks, and lastly lips. It lingered for more than a few seconds. He leaned in, slowly and carefully. He stared at you and let them blur as he stroked your cheeks.

           There was no response, not even an inkling of recognition or reaction.

           He exhaled shakily, taking off any remorse or guilt left in his conscience, and pressed his lips against yours. He savored the sweet taste that lingered on your dry lips.

           I love you, I love you, I love you…

           Despite their parched state, he paid no mind, lost in the intoxicating essence of your embrace. His kiss was light and soft, yet it held a fervent passion as if the dryness of your lips only intensified the craving for the delectable flavor he found there.

           I love you so much, [Name]. The things you do to me…

           With a happy sigh, he closed his eyes and relished every bit of your breath, wanting nothing more than to get drunk on its sweetness. Barbatos slowly pulled away, his lips tugging your bottom lip before it bounced back to its place. He panted, blinking for a few moments.

           A kiss with you has always been his favorite, and it didn’t take too long for him to know he wanted more because shortly he went back and connected his lips with yours again.

           A kiss here, and another kiss, and another, and another. It went on a cycle, an endless loop that he didn't even know how long he had been kissing you repeatedly. So sweet. So enticing. One short kiss after another, he wanted to engrave this in his mind.

           With every passionate lip-lock, he became more obsessed. In all honesty, he felt that he would die if he stopped, the taste still lingering in his mouth and permeating through his whole being. You’re the ethereal drug, a celestial intoxication that transports him to heavenly realms.

           Barbatos, feeling an unsettling shift in the air, abruptly sensed an intruder nearing the ancient ruins and broke the kiss. He gritted his teeth and summoned swift wind spirits to investigate the entrance. Their ethereal forms swirled with urgency as they darted towards the source of the disturbance.

           Whoever dared to step foot in here will not be spared. He already warned them if they wish to be spared from his wrath. The archon's eyes, usually serene, now flickered with an intensity born of both irritation and vigilance as he awaited the wind spirits' report.

           Upon checking, a lone maiden was standing near the wind barriers. She placed the bouquet of Cecilia flowers on the altar created by the Church for their offerings.

           "For Mondstadt, as always. For the verdant plains, for the hills, and for the forests of Mondstadt. May they continue to flourish, as always. For Mondstadt, as always. For the everlasting freedom of Mondstadt from the blizzard and the tyrant, whose coldness and oppression are one and the same.”

           What a peculiar girl letting herself drenched in rain. The rain was strong and despite the bad weather, she still offered her prayers to him.

           “Oh, Anemo Archon. I do not wish for anything but for the good health of my mother. I implore you to please guard her against illness and adversity,”

           Her prayers echoed in his ears. Barbatos crossed his arms and watched her from afar through the eyes of the spirit he cast. A lot of things have changed in Mondstadt. The city, the village, and even Stormterror’s Lair where he currently resides with you.

           He didn’t pay any particular attention to the changes outside of the ruins. But he did notice many of his people frequently visited this area to pray and ask for their blessings. Perhaps someone from the Church must have noticed him and thought this was his abode, and decided to create a shrine here, but also making sure it won’t ever disturb him.

           It’s been a while since Ludi Harpastum ended. He didn’t want to admit it but he’s been counting the days since you’ve been asleep. From minutes to hours, hours to days, and days to weeks, he never left your side. But he didn’t merely sulk in the corner, waiting for signs of you waking up. Unlike before, he decided to terraform the ruins to make it more to your liking.

           He remembers very well that you love the garden of the manor, so he made a special area for you. He remembers you love your library in the tower, so he prepared lots of books for you to read. He remembers the fountain you’d always whisper your wishes at, so he built it for you. All these things he had done, he did it for you while he waited for you to open your eyes.

           The very essence of his being intertwined with the elements, breathing life into the desolate ruins. As he lifted his hands, a harmonious dance of nature began.

           The once crumbling tower regained its majestic stature, rising from the ground as if it had never suffered the scars of time. Petals of vibrant flowers cascaded in a gentle descent, wrapping around the structure like a colorful embrace. An intricate tapestry of blossoms adorned the surroundings, replacing the debris and rubble with a carpet of nature's beauty.

           The Anemo Archon had woven a tapestry of renewal and growth, turning the dilapidated ruins into a sanctuary of life and vitality. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of blossoms, and the ambiance echoed the melody of his power, a testament to the god's ability to shape the very fabric of the world.

           He made the once rubbled, stormy lair into a sanctuary haven for his dear. It’s his gift for you that once you’re awake, you’ll dance around with him and live the life with him you’ve always dreamed of.

           He must admit though, the shrine built by the Church of Favonius was exceptionally well made and further enhanced the beauty of this sanctuary. Barbatos sighed, contemplating if he should aid the young girl by sheltering her. He never meant to become a ruthless archon and that is far from his ideals.

           His drastic change was all because of Aether. Of course, it was him. He’s too smart for his own good and Barbatos hates how quick he is to catch on to his relationship with you. But he’s here to change everything. So if he wanted to make a good image as an archon to his people, then so be it. After all, he only wanted your perception of him and that’s all he cares about. Nothing more, nothing else.

           He’ll make everything right this time. If you see him as reliable and trustworthy, then he’ll be loved by you. Finally taking his decision, he ordered his little spirits to guide the girl to find shelter. As for her prayers…

           Barbatos is no genie. He couldn’t guarantee all of his followers’ prayers. He’s not like the Dendro Archon who could cure illnesses…

           He sighed, the weight of his responsibilities settling on his shoulders. Being an archon was not a walk in the park. The expectations of the people, the intricacies of diplomacy with other nations, the constant struggle to maintain balance—all of it took its toll. Barbatos couldn't afford to let his guard down.

           News about his rampage must have reached his neighboring countries and he doesn’t want another burden to be added to his already tumultuous situation. As he watched the wind spirits guide the girl to safety, he couldn't help but feel the isolation that came with his position.

           The tower, now restored, stood as a symbol of his power, but it also harbored the secrets he desperately wanted to keep hidden. Aether's presence had disrupted the delicate equilibrium he had crafted, forcing him to confront the challenges that came with being both a god and a man.

           His thoughts circled back to you. Would you ever understand the complexities of his existence? The burden he carried for Mondstadt and its people? As the archon, he had to maintain an image, but beneath the divine facade, there was a being struggling with the desire for love and understanding. He also wanted you to see him as Barbatos.

           Not the Anemo Archon, but simply Barbatos, a young man who loves you through Celestia and Teyvat. Who harbored feelings for you for millennia.

           He shook off his inner turmoil, his eyes focusing on the horizon beyond the borders of the sanctuary. The wind carried whispers of prayers, and he knew he couldn't fulfill them all. The duties of an archon were exceptionally hard, and the struggles were his to bear. The winds howled in response, a melancholic melody echoing the challenges he faced.

           He sighed for the nth time, exhaustion began to creep over him. He placed the back of his hand over to his head to ease the throbbing pain of a migraine. The constant internal conflict and the strain of maintaining appearances were taking their toll.

           As he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he summoned a gentle breeze to soothe his troubled mind. The rustle of leaves and the familiar scent of the wind helped him find a moment of peace amidst the chaos. He turned his back and returned to where you were.

           Barbatos kissed you on the lips and it calmed him, more effective than the breeze he used to himself. You’re always his cure, the one constant that brought tranquility to his turbulent existence. The soft touch of your lips against his was a momentary escape from the weight of his responsibilities. As he pulled away, a faint smile played on his lips, grateful for the solace you unknowingly provided him.

           “I promise you, I’ll make this our sanctuary.”

           At the end of his lonely world, maybe he’ll arrive at his true world with no regrets or remorse.

taglist: @trust-the-oxygen @so-uncute

sorry for the delay on the update. i announced on my tumblr that i would be posting this chapter in late august or early september but a lot of things happened and i self-sabotaged this sob

[whirlpool-blogs]

last line(s)/wip tag

thanks @c-goldthorn @swifty-fox @rangerelizabeth @majorbuckyegan @donotnomi 🥹❤️

wrote a little more for Pet Sematary AU today! here's a snippet:

Gale glances back at him. Bucky shifts his weight from side to side, uncomfortable. Comprehension dawns on Gale. 

“You need to piss again?” asks Gale. 

Bucky nods. “Don’t…yell.” 

Gale sighs. “I won’t yell,” he promises, “if you use the latrines like a goddamn normal person. I’ll show you where they are.” 

Gale brings Bucky to the latrines and stays back outside the entrance. He waits. After a beat, Bucky’s voice comes echoing out. “Buck,” he says, plaintive. 

Gale pokes his head around the doorway. Bucky stares back at him, clearly perplexed. He hasn’t even unzipped his fly. 

“You are lucky,” grits out Gale, stepping inside, “that we are such good friends.” He undoes Bucky’s pants, then, when it’s clear that Bucky still has no idea what comes next, tugs his soft cock out of his skivvies and aims the hole at the latrine. 

“Now go,” says Gale. Bucky goes. His cock jumps in Gale’s hand as the stream bursts out, flowing hot and yellow. He’s still a little dehydrated, so Gale makes a mental note to give Bucky more water when they get back to the barracks. 

After Bucky finishes, Gale loosely shakes him out to get rid of the last few drops. “Otherwise,” explains Gale, “it’ll still be wet inside your skivvies.” He looks over to check that Bucky is paying attention. He’ll be damned if he has to repeat this lesson.

Bucky nods. Satisfied, Gale tucks his cock back in, zips him up, and pats Bucky on the hip. 

“All done,” says Gale. 

“Done,” repeats Bucky. 

no pressure! tagging @angelfruittree @soliloquy-dawn @impalachick @inpotatoeswetrust

[wayrad]

last line(s) tag

I was tagged by @sleepr-agent420 and @whirlpool-blogs thank you!!

Haussmann takes a sharp breath in, “You may think yourself hard, Major, but they will find where you are soft, and they will use it until there is nothing left,” His face takes on a severe quality, hooked nose and sculpted jaw catching with shadow. The dark inks him, and he really does look like the villains from the movies. “So, I will ask you again. Do you like your little Colonel?” Gale’s chest pumps with wild shattered breaths. His scent curls with fear; he might die here. He might really die. Or worse, they’ll keep him alive, barely so, subhuman. And all of this would have been for nothing at all. “No,” he says, finally. 

np tagging some people I dont often/new moots: @onyxsboxes @meyerlansky @c-goldthorn @happy-days19 and ofc @soliloquy-dawn @skyphloxx show me what's cookin!!

[swifty-fox]

Hottest Clegan fic you've read? Ask for a friend etc.

:D

Mine <3

lmao Jk I think its really hard to pic just one because there's so many to choose from but (and I don't think my answer will be popular)

Shotgun by pornogirl lmao. which boasts the lovely 'wound fucking' tag so.

Runner ups:

In the heat of the night by @avonne-writes

king of the compound by @soliloquy-dawn

born to ride by @bucking-mustangs-with-wings

others feel free to drop some!

[xmysweetcreaturex]

last line tag

shout out the homies who tagged me in their respective and wonderful posts @soliloquy-dawn @bucksbluescarf 🫶🏽

A salacious little snippet of the end of Ch.2 of Arcadia™️: mine and @polifandom ‘s mota/clegan zombie apocalypse au. Enjoy!

“Please-” He says, voice tight with what John assumes is restraint.

“Oh you don’t have to beg, Baby. That 's my job.” John giggles, using his mouth on his ear and sucking his earlobe into his mouth briefly, distracting Buck from the fact that he’s slowly turning them around. John’s wandering hands move up Buck’s strong arms, rounding his shoulders in gentle circles until he’s able to slip the pack off his back, pushing them down towards the plush bed.

They land in a big heap, the force of the fall knocking the wind out of both men. Bucky giggles a soft ‘Whoops’ and continues his ministrations down and around his neck, causing Buck to groan quietly.

And suddenly, all the warmth and wetness is gone- John now leaning up, his thighs balanced on either side of Buck’s hips, but not daring to sit his full weight on the man’s lap. “So I’ll ask again, Buck. Do you want to fuck me?”

“I do.”

If you’d like to take a look at all the snippets and ramblings the ACU (Arcadia Cinematic Universe™️- i will make this a thing) has to offer feel free to peruse #Arcadia using this link (or the one above haha)

super chill no pressure tags for these lovely peeps 💞

@antiquitea @skyyguy @daysofxavierspast @sleepr-agent420 @quick-catton @oopsiedaisiesbaby @feyd-meowtha @wayrad @swifty-fox

free tag @/anyone that would like to do this as well!

(also if any of you want to stop being tagged in these, pls dm me bc I typically just copy and paste from my previous posts/tag games ✨)

[sleepr-agent420]

last line tag

@soliloquy-dawn @wayrad tagged me a while ago but now i finally have smth to post 😭😭

“Of course I would win,” Bucky grins, shoving his legs out in front of him. He wiggles his tattered boots. Of course he would win.

“What- What would you do if I was in the games?” Gale asks softly, repeating Bucky’s question back to him. He wants Bucky to lie to him. He wants to hear that he would win, too. He knows it’s not true. He can’t fight. He can’t handle a knife the way Bucky can. He’s not well muscled and broad the way Bucky is.

“You won’t be.”

The worst part is that Gale believes him.

np tags: @ranger-elizabeth @skyyguy @wayrad @wolveshine @alienoresimagines

[majorbuckyegan]

Out of Context Line Tag

I was tagged by @nicijones tysm 🥰

“You don't think I'm ugly?” John asked, and there was a tightness to his voice that broke his heart. It sounded as if he was about to cry, “You don't think that my face is ruined, or that I-”

👀👀👀

Tagging: @alienoresimagines @hogans-heroes @buckbiddick @moghraidhs @anachilles @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @soliloquy-dawn @antiquitea @angelfruittree @spaceshipkat

[lucky-clover-gazette]

prince's gambit highlights & annotations

chapter 19

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

He found he had put himself bodily in Guymar’s way. ‘No. No one goes in.’ Anger, irrationally, blossomed. Behind him was the closed door to the tower rooms, a barrier to disaster. Guymar should know better than to barge in and make Laurent’s mood worse. Guymar should have known better than to cause Laurent’s mood in the first place.

one kiss and he’s fully down bad. like these are max levels of damen down bad-ness. it took one kiss. holy shit dude. we went from “laurent knows everything and is always planning something terrible” to “you will NOT bother my poor little meow meow while he does his silent soliloquy”

‘This time, I want it actually kept clear. I don’t care who is about to get molested. No one is to come here. Is that understood?’ ‘Yes, Captain.’ Guymar bowed and retreated. Damen found himself with his hands braced on the stone crenellation, in unconscious echoing of Laurent’s pose, the line of Laurent’s back the last thing he had seen before he had put the heel of his palm to the door. His heart was pounding. He wanted to make a barrier that protected Laurent from anyone who would intrude on him. He’d keep that perimeter clear, if it meant stalking these battlements and patrolling it himself. He knew this about Laurent. That once he gave himself time alone to think, the control returned, reason won out. The part of him that didn’t want to drop Aimeric with a punch recognised that both Jord and Aimeric had just been put through the wringer. It was a mess that needn’t have happened. If they’d just—steered clear. Friends, Laurent had said, high on the battlements. Is that what we are? Damen’s hands drew into fists. Aimeric was an inveterate troublemaker with terrible timing.

this is so ridiculous damen you have laurent brainrot it is so funny how this has unlocked primal rage and determination in you that literal flogging couldn’t

but keep your head up king, this is the chapter where you get to smash

The idea of stopping, allowing himself a moment to think, was terrible. Outside, there was nothing, just the last hours of darkness, and the long ride in the dawn.

and no more laurent to smooch >:(

‘Watch over the Prince,’ he heard himself say. ‘Anything he needs, make certain he has it. Take care of him.’ He was aware of the incongruity of the words, of his hard grip on the soldier’s arm. When he tried to stop, his grip only tightened. ‘He deserves your loyalty.’

damen said “it’s MY turn on the projection”

His time as Laurent’s Captain had been short-lived. An afternoon. An evening. In that time they’d won a battle and taken a fort. It seemed wild and improbable, a hard-edged golden piece of metal in his hand.

also they’d kissed on the mouth. leaving out a pretty essential detail there damen

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Your servants brought me to the wrong rooms.’ ‘No, they didn’t,’ said Laurent.

pffft did they just know? i’m not sure when laurent could have asked them to do it. so they must have just assumed laurent wanted him there

‘I don’t want to talk about Aimeric,’ said Laurent. ‘Or my uncle.’ Laurent began to come forward.

uh laurent i don’t think damen mentioned the regent at all. i think you’re telling yourself to stop thinking about your uncle because you would like to fuck damen without ptsd making it weird

Laurent said, ‘I know you’re planning to leave tomorrow. You’re going to cross the border, and you’re not going to come back. Say it.’ ‘I—’ ‘Say it.’ ‘I’m going to leave tomorrow,’ said Damen, as steadily as he could. ‘I’m not going to come back.’ He drew in a breath that hurt his chest. ‘Laurent—’ ‘No, I don’t care. Tomorrow you leave. But you’re mine now. You’re still my slave tonight.’ Damen felt the words hit, but that was subsumed in the shock of Laurent’s hand on him, a push backwards. His legs hit the bed. The world tilted, bed silks and roseate light. He felt Laurent’s knee alongside his thigh, Laurent’s hand on his chest. ‘I—don’t—’ ‘I think you do,’ said Laurent.

laurent listened to “dead girl walking” from heathers musical on the way up to the rooms in preparation for this. also i love the mixed feelings here—on one hand, hell yeah laurent, let yourself have this, but also this is fucked up for you both, and you really should talk it out, and the fact that you’re demanding his abandonment before fucking him is concerning, like you only want to fuck if you know he’s leaving anyway, but i mean why not then, if he’s leaving, and you know he wants you, and this is the last night to do it…

also laurent knows damen wants this, and he’s not actually using the slave thing here. the only way he’s using it, is calling damen on what he said earlier that evening before the kissing. cashing in on it, in a way. it’s not exactly healthy but i wouldn’t say it’s like non-consensual or anything

‘What am I doing? You are not very observant.’ ‘You’re not yourself,’ said Damen. ‘And even if you were, you don’t do anything without a dozen motives.’ Laurent went very still, the soft words half bitter. ‘Don’t I? I must want something.’

ooof that hit a sore spot, i think. laurent very badly wants to both lose and take control right now, and sex is a way he’s both lost and had control in the past—lost control to the regent, and had it over damen back in arles. he’s trying not to think about that, about the reasons, and damen is trying to make him think about it, and also implying that laurent can’t just do anything because it’s what he wants or feels.

‘Laurent,’ he said. ‘You take liberties,’ said Laurent. ‘I never gave you permission to call me by my name.’ ‘Your Highness,’ said Damen, and the words twisted, wrong in his mouth. He needed to say, Don’t do this. But he couldn’t think past Laurent, improbably close. He felt each shifting inch that divided their bodies with a fluttering, illicit sensation at Laurent’s proximity. He closed his eyes against it, felt his body’s painful yearning. ‘I don’t think you want me. I think you just want me to feel this.’ ‘Then, feel it,’ said Laurent.

“i don’t think you want me, i think you just want me to feel this” is an INSANE and deeply true line. but also, i think laurent does want damen—HIS damen, not damianos. and this is the last night he can have his damen.

and maybe laurent enjoys your reactions, damen. ever think about that?

‘You liked this too, with Ancel.’ ‘That wasn’t Ancel,’ said Damen, the words coming out, raw and honest. ‘That was all you, and you know it.’

LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOO

The rise and fall of Laurent’s hand was like the slide of Laurent’s words, like every frustrating argument that they’d ever had, stymied, tangled up in Laurent’s voice.

great line. love how it ties the sex act to something deeper between them

Laurent held his former mood within him, constrained, and converted into something else.

horny and angry is not the ideal way for them to fuck for the first time, and for laurent to fuck for the first time since [redacted], but since when has anything been ideal for laurent (or damen, as of book 1)

He felt Laurent pulling back, pulling away, shuttering himself, trying but not quite able to manage a cool snap withdrawal. Laurent said, ‘Adequate.’

book 1: “Laurent turned to Damen. ‘Well?’ Laurent said. ‘Can you couple adequately, or do you just kill things?”

He’d caught Laurent’s wrist before, to hold him back from a blow, a knife strike. He held him now. He could feel the desperate urge for retreat. He could feel something else too, Laurent keeping himself apart, as though, this act being finished, he had no template for what to do. ‘Kiss me,’ he said again.

this is so good. it’s good for all the things damen knows, and all the things he doesn’t know. because he’s doing good here, even without the truth about the regent clicking. he’s helping laurent figure this out, confidently and compassionately, and showing him that he doesn’t need to retreat.

Dark-eyed, Laurent was holding himself in place as though pushing himself past a barrier, the tension in Laurent’s body still telegraphing flight, and Damen felt the shock with his whole body when Laurent’s gaze dropped to his mouth. His own eyes fell closed as he realised that Laurent was going to do this, and he held himself very still. Laurent kissed with a slight parting of his lips, as though he was unconscious of what he was asking for, and Damen kissed him back carefully, dizzy with the idea that the kiss would deepen.

see my previous comments about trauma and my appreciation for laurent as a romantic interest/lead

For a moment, looking felt like kissing, an exchange in which the distinctions of intimacy blurred.

"distinctions of intimacy blurred" is such a succinct way to summarize the way pacat writes the overall romantic arc. they do not need to be fucking to be fucking, and when they are fucking, they're doing other stuff too

It was not what Laurent had expected. He felt the slight shock of Laurent’s surprise, and the way Laurent held himself, as though confused as to why Damen wished to do this, but he felt the moment when surprise turned to something else.

“confused as to why damen wanted to do this” yeah that’s pretty typical for laurent

Damen allowed himself the minor delight of nuzzling.

fantastic line

He lifted his fingers to the tie that closed Laurent’s collar. He had been trained to do this, he knew every intricate fastening.

talk about setup and payoff...

Exposed, Laurent’s nipples were hard and puckered, the first tangible evidence of desire, and Damen felt a wild surge of gratification. His eyes lifted to Laurent’s. Laurent said, ‘Did you think I was made of stone?’ He couldn’t stop the rush of pleasure he felt at that, said, ‘Nothing you don’t want.’ ‘You think I don’t want it?’ Seeing the look in Laurent’s eyes, Damen deliberately pushed him back onto the sheets.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

okay big turning point! probably the first major tell we’ve gotten of laurent being out of control of his reactions, AND he isn’t ashamed of it and asks for more!!! massive laurent (and damen) w!!!

Lifting a hand idly to the exact place above his head where Damen might have pressed it, Laurent gazed back at him through veiled lashes. ‘Like being on top, do you?’ ‘Yes.’ Never more so than at this moment. To have Laurent beneath him was heady.

they’re both having so much fun in different but complimentary ways. laurent enjoys what he’s doing to damen, damen enjoys what laurent is doing to him. they’re both getting something out of it, which i don’t think damen fully understood what he said that thing about laurent not wanting him, but wanting to make him feel. he wants it because it’s you specifically, dummy.

Despite the cool tone, he was aware of the extent to which Laurent was holding himself in place, allowing himself to be touched. Tension still glinted in Laurent’s body, like the shine on a blade edge that would slice you open at the wrong touch.

Damen let himself experience dizzily just how much he liked the idea of controlled Laurent betraying himself in salt flavoured need into his mouth. He touched it with his hand and encountered a texture like hot silk.

i like how pacat finds these ways to say what’s going on, but in a much more compelling and beautiful way than just “damen wanted to blow him” and “his dick was nice”

‘I am not going to reciprocate.’ Damen looked up. ‘What?’ Laurent said, ‘I am not going to do that to you.’ ‘And so?’ ‘Do you want me to suck your cock?’ said Laurent, precisely. ‘Because I don’t plan to. If you are proceeding on the expectation of reciprocity, then you had best be forewarned that—’ This was too convoluted for bed play. Damen listened, satisfied himself that in all of this talking there was no actual objection, then simply applied his mouth.

LOVE THIS. how complicated traumatized laurent trying to deflect is just washing over damen, he doesn’t care if it’s not reciprocal, he just wants to make laurent feel good. something laurent doesn’t understand or expect because sex for him has always been about making [redacted] feel good and that’s it. and laurent’s bitchiness here is so tenderly and funny and in character. he delivered a “precise treatise on cocksucking” in book 1, of course he’d regard this like a business negotiation

For all his seeming experience, Laurent reacted like an innocent to this pleasure. He let out a soft shocked sound, and his body re-formed around the place where Damen was giving his attention. Damen held Laurent in place, hands to hips, and allowed himself to enjoy Laurent’s slight, helpless shifts and pushes, the quality of his surprise, and the hard act of repression that followed, as Laurent tried to even out his breathing.

damen associates sex with happily giving and receiving pleasure, so he’s confused/surprised by laurent’s unfamiliarity with actually getting attention and enjoying himself

Laurent was, by far, the most controlled lover Damen had ever taken to bed.

damen a lot of them were slaves. coached to make you feel like a god. just saying

And felt it stymied. As rhythm built, Laurent’s body locked down, his responses repressed. Looking up, he saw that Laurent’s hands were fists in the sheets, his eyes closed, his head turned to one side. Laurent, out on the shattered edge of pleasure, was holding himself back from climax by sheer force of his impossible will.

again i say, i’m so glad to see someone like laurent as the love interest in a romance novel, holy shit

After a long moment Laurent said, with painful honesty, ‘I . . . find it difficult to let go of control.’ ‘No kidding,’ said Damen.

:) a really nice tension-breaking way to find a little humor in it all, made even lighter by damen’s lack of awareness re: [redacted]

‘You want to take me, as a man takes a boy.’

this is the first moment where i’m just like DAMEN. truly. how are you not guessing this. i get that it’s consistent with his character to not assume the worst, but oh my god

‘You make it sound simple.’ ‘It is simple.’

The words fell into a stillness between them. Laurent’s breathing was shallow, and his cheeks were flushed as he closed his eyes, as though he wanted to block out the world. ‘I want,’ said Laurent, ‘I want it to be simple.’

‘Yes,’ said Laurent. ‘But—wasn’t it—’ ‘Will you stop talking about it.’ The words were ground out.

oh he’s trying so hard to let himself have this. probably before he feels really ready but it’s his last night with damen so!!

For all his bizarre nervy tension, Laurent was indisputably eager, physically. Damen searched his blue eyes. ‘Contrary, aren’t you,’ said Damen softly, thumbing over Laurent’s cheek. ‘Fuck me,’ said Laurent. ‘I want to,’ said Damen. ‘Can you let me?’ He said it quietly, and waited, as Laurent’s eyes closed again, a muscle sliding in his jaw. The idea of being fucked very clearly had Laurent out of his mind, as desire competed with some sort of convoluted mental objection that really needed, Damen thought, to be dispensed with. ‘I am letting you,’ said Laurent, the terse words pushing out. ‘Will you get on with it?’

this is so well-written, both what’s in the lines and what’s in between them. it’s a sex scene but it’s also a masterful scene of dramatic irony and characterization for them both

He watched Laurent’s face, the slight flush, the fractional changes of his expression, his eyes wide and dark. It was intensely private.

of course he's in his own head. that's laurent, for better or for worse

He felt some sense that he needed to hold onto this, to hold it tight and never let it out of his grip. You’re mine, he wanted to say, and couldn’t. Laurent didn’t belong to him; this was something he could have only once. His chest hurt.

To get what you want, you have to know exactly how much you are willing to give up. Never had he wanted something this badly, and held it in his hands knowing that tomorrow it would be gone, traded for the high cliffs of Ios, and the uncertain future across the border, the chance to stand before his brother, to ask him for all the answers that no longer seemed so important. A kingdom, or this.

i don’t have much to add here. it’s being explained perfectly in the text. it's nice to be at this point of understanding with the characters and plot that things can come together like this, thematically, on the page.

[idle-soliloquy]

the lyrics "I kiss you on your neck / You were staring at the ceiling / I should've known right then and there you were a runaway" are very cheating microfic jegulus

and this part too actually, "These bad omens, I look right through them / That's what you do when you love somebody"

Fits perfectly... Thank you for sharing, just listened to it twice. I'm also partial to What a Time by Julia Michaels for this fic. That one is more of a "James' delusional perspective is making him romanticise and forget, to eventually bounce back to Regulus cause he just loves to suffer."

I have a new chapter in the works, it's almost ready. Btw, it's also on ao3, if you prefer to read there.

[alienoresimagines]

Omg “classics” for clegan plsssss 🥺

classics - muse a tends to muse b’s wounds with more care than necessary

So. This fic may have gotten out of a hand and may or may not be 14.5k, 7k of which are them making out and smutting 😅 So Nonnie, if you'd like a redo of the prompt with really 100% h/c and fluff, send me another ask and I'll keep it general audience, I promise 🥹❤️ Also a huge shoutout to @soliloquy-dawn for single handedly beating the slump out of me for this fic, I was stuck on 4k for three weeks and then wrote 10k in one, for which I also have to thanks all my fellow sprinters on Discord🥹🫶🏻 And, a happy birthday to @amiserableseriesofevents !!! Thank you for all the wounderful fics you constantly post, the countless sprints you do with me, I wish you all the good in the world 💕 Consider this my humble gift for an amazing person celebrating another year of life ❤️ This is my first time writing an actual smut so I'm really nervous about this one lmao but I hope you'll like it 👉🏻👈🏻🥹

Tell Me You're Going To Be Alright (I Don't Want The World To Turn Without You) | Buck x Bucky

Summary : Perhaps life really only started when he opened the door to his room in flight school and shook hands with Gale Cleven. Perhaps the twenty-four years before that were only to learn how his legs and arms worked to get him to this moment, where he learned how his heart did. Or After the Regensburg Mission, John cannot forget just how close he came to losing Gale forever. He copes how he can, tending to Gale's wounds, and holding him when the adrenaline leaves him and Gale can't keep up the officer façade anymore. He lets Gale take care of the cuts that adorned his face even though John had forgotten them. And then, when all the wounds have been treated, desperation to feel just how alive the other still is settles in, like a wildfire of urgency that not even the presence of their men a few feet away can soothe.

Snippet :

“You did so good, darlin’,” his lips attach themselves to Gale’s temple as another one of those broken noises pierces through his soul. “Brought your boys to safety the best way you could.” He thinks of the mangled body of a radioman and how easily it could’ve been Gale. Tightens his hold until there’s no telling where one of them begins and where the other ends. 

“You did so, so good, Gale.” He keeps on whispering in Gale’s ear, rubbing soothing circles on his back, and pressing kisses anywhere he can reach until Gale isn’t shaking as much anymore, tremors receding and replaced by a heavy blanket of exhaustion that sends him further into John’s chest. John doesn’t budge, stays rooted to his spot like the old oak tree in his mother’s garden, sheltering the house from rain and storms. 

Minutes later, Gale shifts and clears his throat, the sound dulled by John's shirt before he starts to pull away. John’s heart screams and thrashes with wanting to bring him closer once again, but he knows better than to force Gale to lose control, knows the other is probably ashamed that he felt the need to be comforted. The anger simmering in his blood at that is cold and familiar enough for John to ignore it, preferring instead to stroke his thumb back and forth over Gale's cheekbone. A light smile pulls at his lips when Gale leans into the touch, a sigh leaving him as he nuzzles his cheek against John’s palm, as though the space has been carved just for him- John is certain it’s the case.

Read more here

My other Clegan Fics

[amiserableseriesofevents]

WIP Wednesday/Last line tag

I've been tagged by so many people aaaaah @alienoresimagines @heretoobsessstuff @rangerelizabeth @nicijones @onyxsboxes @majorbuckyegan thank you all; here for you, a few lines from the Halloween oneshot!

He’s testing the waters and there’s the risk he’s gonna drown, he knows it very well; but something about being dressed up as something else, as someone else, always makes him feel all tingly and excited even after all this time. If he can’t kiss Buck as they are, because that’s what he asked of him when laying down the rules for their weird — wrong — contract, now that they can pretend they’re not Buck and Bucky he wants to kiss him even more. For a fraction of a second, something flickers in Buck’s gaze that makes John shiver with anticipation — Buck wants to kiss him too, wants the taste of John’s fake blood in his mouth, the way his tongue darts out from the gap between his lips a telltale sign of the blond’s inner turmoil. His gaze shoots to the side, as if he’s considering something and needs to check the situation in the lobby; the public’s still waiting outside, Marge is checking a few last things with Ken and another tech. Buck must be on tickets duty tonight so he’ll have to go stand outside the auditorium’s door in a minute. John keeps staring at him, as if he can read the calculations running through his mind; but before he can risk to push it too much, he relents. “Stay still,” he says and cradles Buck’s face with one of his still gloved hands, tilting it a little to the side to have a better view and relishing in the way the other’s breath itches at the contact with the soft, warm fabric. He rubs his other thumb over the lipstick stain, the porous leather absorbing it better than skin could and the dark color hiding the bloody tint. Goosebumps break on Buck’s skin where John has touched him and when John releases him his eyes are wide behind the mask, a faint flush spreading all over the uncovered half of his face.

No pressure tagging: @soliloquy-dawn @london-cowboy @middlingmay @happy-days19 and @johnslittlespoon !

[bucksbluescarf]

WIP tag

@feyd-meowtha tagged me a few days ago, ty <33

trying my hand at the buckies' first meeting, in spit it out

Texas is blistering even in March, sweat turning John’s uniform damp and making the back of his neck itch. He’s halfway hoping his roommate won’t have shown up yet so he can strip out of his uniform and cool down.

No such luck. When John opens the door, a man is carefully setting books on the shelf above one of the beds, and John just gets the impression of a slim figure and a shock of blond hair before he’s turning around, and then John’s impression is that’s the prettiest face I’ve ever seen. Eyes blue like the cloudless sky outside, a smattering of freckles below one of them that John immediately wants to trace with his thumb. A cupid’s bow that’s even more tempting. He’s been looking too long. John straightens his shoulders, holds out his hand in greeting like he’s supposed to.

“S’pose we’re roommates. Name’s John Egan, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

The man shakes John’s hand, calluses pleasantly rough against his skin.

“Hello, Bucky. I’m Gale, Gale Cleven.”

And John’s mind is still stuck on the shape of Gale’s plump lips around the shape of his name as the next words tumble out of his mouth.

“You know, you remind me of my friend Buck, back home in Manitowoc. That’s what I’ll call you, Buck.”

Gale raises his fair eyebrows in a question. His hand is still in John’s.

“You’re naming me after yourself?”

“No, no, I just told you, I’m naming you after Buck. Anyway I’ve gotta go pick up my new flight gear, but I’ll see you later. Nice to meet you, Buck!”

John makes it what he considers an impressive distance from the barracks before he’s retching up his lunch into a gravel ditch. When a passerby asks if he’s alright, he mumbles Just transportation sickness, hands on his knees and heaving hot, dry air into his lungs.

This might be a problem.

tagging @whirlpool-blogs (also to say thank you for rbing the original spit it out snippet yesterday and making me want to work on it) @c-goldthorn @soliloquy-dawn aaand right back atcha @feyd-meowtha

[alouiadina]

Dark Clegan

Like I mentioned in the post talking about this, the idea came from reading @feyd-meowtha's It's a Scream, Baby, rewatching Leatherface (2017), and the original Bonnie and Clyde post I made a while back. There are two versions, and I'm putting both in here.

I know that people said they wanted this, but still. These ideas are heavy, a bit clunky, and long. I kind of which I put this out in October, when maybe it would be more accepted as halloween fic ideas. I know I'm rambling, but I do still have some anxiety about posting this, even though people have asked for it. It's not a great feeling, but it does feel great to finally have these out of my brain and out there. God, I hope you can feel my anxiety about posting this.

I also don't know if/think I'll write these, at least not anytime soon. I don't want to put more on my plate. So, like I said with my Reverse Amnesia Au, if this inspires you, go right ahead and write (just check with me first):

( @jjubilee-fluff @soliloquy-dawn )

Here's what they look like:

Plot Version 1:

Gale is a sixteen (almost seventeen) year old a volunteer nurse/assistant/whatever at the Casper Youth Reformery, mostly to look good on college applications. His home life isn't all that great, and he often has fantasies and dreams about killing his parents, but keeps that to himself, as he doesn't want to end up where he works. 

Bucky is there because he's seen as a danger to himself and others due to his sociopathic tendencies. He drinks and smokes a lot, burns himself, and killed the family dog and attempted murder of his father (which maybe did something for him). He also is a bit manipulative, erratic, impulsive, and reckless. 

Gale first sees Bucky, he's being brought in to the Youth Reformery to be held there before his trial, which Gale overhears Bucky'll be likely tried as an adult. The next time he sees Bucky, Bucky's in the bathroom, getting a blowjob from Blakely. He tries to duck away unnoticed, but Bucky notices. Gale stutters out something about changing the soap in the soap dispensers, and Bucky invites him in to do so. 

Gale does his best to ignore Bucky, but finds it difficult as Bucky is a yapper, a flirtatious one at that. Calls Gale "pretty doll" and stuff, all the while grunting encouragement to Blakely. 

Bucky develops a fuck buddies relationship with Blakely, while worming his way into Gale's head. Near the end of Gale's shifts, he admits to Bucky that he has fantasies of killing his father. It turns into a weird sex thing as Gale describes one of the scenarios to Bucky. (Blood kink, obviously, and they're in a storage closet or the bathroom)

Sometime after that, Bucky convinces Blakely to escape the night before Bucky's trial. They do and go to Blakely's house, where they kill Blakely's family, fuck, then Bucky kills Blakely in the car.

Gale wakes up to a knocking on his bedroom window. It's Bucky, covered in the Blakely Family's blood (mostly Ev's) and a shit eating grin on his face.

"Still want to kill your parents, Buck?" He asks as Gale lets him in. 

Gale, with fresh bruises forming from his father's latest boxing session where Gale was the punching bag, agrees. They set the whole thing up, with Blakely's body placed in Gale's bed, and using duct tape to tie his parents to the bed. Gale's dad keeps gasoline in the basement for the boat he has, so he douses his parents in it, while Bucky does Blakely's body, connecting them with a line of gasoline.

Gale's parents wake up as soon as the gasoline is on them, begging for their life. Gale goes on this whole monologue on how both of them deserve to die, Gale's father for abusing him, and his mother for sitting and watching. Gale's mother tries to appeal to Gale, saying that she was abused too. Gale assures her that he'll let her go, then slits her throat with a knife from the kitchen. Gale's father is horrified, to which gale brushes it off as him giving her an easy way out. He then lights a match and sets his father on fire, momentarily reviling in his screams of pain before rushing out of the house. (He also packed some clothes beforehand, knowing that the missing cloths wouldn't be noticed, and maybe also took the money from his parents underwear drawer.) It's late, so they find a motel to sleep at for the night, only after they have sex because they're both on a high from killing Gale's parents (and Blakely). 

The next morning, they wake up to news of their crime, and that Gale is actually considered dead because Blakely's body, like they planned, was confused for Gale's. They then go on a killing spree, mostly of people that wronged them, like family members of Gale's that looked the other way as he was abused, bullies, Teachers of Gale's that ignored the bullies, teachers of Bucky's that seemed to have it out for Bucky, stuff like that, as well as people that had a connection with Blakely, like his ex-girlfriend, Helen, and her new boyfriend, as to try to keep up the allusion of Blakely still being alive to help Bucky, and for Gale to be dead. (They kill people, then leave for a couple days, maybe a week, before coming back to do it again.)

Soon enough, the law is catching up on them, and it looks like they'll have to skip town for good, but Bucky wants to kill his dad before they do that. Bucky calls up an old friend Curt, who hides them in his parents house. Gale gets jealous of Curt's and Bucky's closeness, even more so when he finds out they have a past.

Ending Version 1: The night they kill Bucky's dad, Gale decides to kill Curt and his family out of jealousy.

Bucky finds out just as Gale slits Curt's throat. In a panic, Bucky kills Ken (who's Curt's boyfriend.) Gale denies jealousy, and excuses it as cleaning up loose ends before they left, then Bucky reveals that he planned on inviting Curt and Ken to come with them, as Ken is emancipated and Curt had graduated, so no one would draw suspicion if they went and left. They start fighting, Gale accuses Bucky of still wanting to fuck Curt, which is why he wanted to invite Curt and Ken along, to use it as some sort of segue to kill him and Ken so that he and Curt could be together again.

He goads Bucky into killing him, surprised when Bucky stabs him in the neck. Then Bucky starts freaking out. Yes, he is a bit of a sociopath, but Gale was the one person he actually cared for. So, he cradles Gale as he goes to the floor, fruitlessly trying to stop the blood spewing from his neck. Gale's dead, and for the first time in his life, he wants to throw up at seeing a dead thing. He ends up finding the gun he knows Curt's dad keeps in the back of his closet, and uses it on himself.

Ending Version 2: When they go out to kill Bucky's dad, Gale is actively planning the death of Curt and his family, but keeps it to himself when they pull up to the curb of Bucky's house. They sneak in, and both grab a kitchen knife from the kitchen, quietly walking into the living room where Bucky's dad is. He knows his mother and sister are out, which makes him a little happy knowing that he won't have to kill them. They end up knocking Bucky's father out, tying him to the chair, and torturing for a bit. Then they hear police sirens, assuming that one of the neighbors called them. Bucky panics, stabbing his father to death. Once he's dead, it's now about getting out of the house.

As they try to escape, Bucky gets shot in the neck, Gale catching him in his arms. Once Bucky dies, Gale rushes out of the house knife in hand, only to get shot down too, which was his plan. He dies in the lawn, a few feet from Bucky.

(A cheesier, worse ending to version 2: Bucky's last words to Gale aren't "I love you" or "Go down swinging," but "I kidnapped you," which Gale takes as "I love you, live for me." Which he does. He leaves the house with both hands up. He explains to the police that Bucky had kidnapped him after accidentally killing Blakely, and needing a way to cover it up. That he forced Curt to hide them in the couple days leading up to the murder, threatening to kill the whole Biddick family, plus Ken if he didn't. Btw, Ken didn't know about Curt hiding the two of them. Gale then finds out Curt was the one who called the police, and Gale makes Curt's death look like an accident. Ken has his suspicions, but doesn't make them known, fearing for his life.)

Plot Version 2:

This meant to be angry Gale and Bucky using their power/perceived authority to manipulate an escape, then slowly murder off the group with each outsider kill, but it slowly turned into a cult thing.

Gale, in this version is more of a permanent residence of the Casper Youth Reformery. He had reported his dad's abuse, but his dad convinced everyone that Gale said about him was false, and also suggested that Gale started showing signs of schizophrenia, y'know paranoid delusions, hallucinations, word salad (the stuttering Gale did on the stand didn't help this accusation), then other things that are also a sign of depression, like lack of motivation, social withdrawal, trouble focusing, making decisions, or completing tasks, stuff like that. And that the bruises, cuts, broken bones were either accidents or self harm that Gale "tried to pin on him."

After the death of his father, Bucky has been spiraling. Burning and cutting himself, getting into fights, doing drugs, stuff like that. He's also been having issues with his step father and his mother. He feels that they got married too soon, and his stepfather is showing his dick-ish side, now that he's married to Bucky's mom, and his mom is becoming a bit more neglectful to him and his sister. Because of his step father, his sister is sent to a boarding school, and he's sent to Casper Youth Reformery due to his behavior.

Some of the others are there too, like Crosby, who had a bit of a mental break after his boyfriend Bubbles died in a car accident he caused, Curt, who overdosed and is there for rehab, though he seems very outgoing. Brady struggles with depression and obsessive-compulsive tendencies, exacerbated by the pressures of his strict religious family. Blakely’s overly religious parents sent him to the reformery, convinced he was a sex addict when, in reality, he was simply a normal teenager. Meanwhile, DeMarco, Rosie, and Helen are volunteers, fulfilling school requirements. Ken works there for extra money after dropping out of high school. Douglass, a ward of the state, is placed in the reformery as he nears aging out of the system.

Bucky and Gale bunk together, Bucky being more steamed about being there than Gale. Gale has been there longer than Bucky, and has gotten to the point where he feels fighting back is pointless. Though, in a diary that he keeps hidden from the guards, nurses, and volunteers, he details various way on how he's going to get back at his father, all of which are murder.

Gale comes back to his room one day to find Bucky reading the diary. He tries to twist it out of Bucky's grasp, but ultimately fails. He's on his back, hands pinned over his head, and Bucky in between his legs.

"I think you should do it, y'know," Bucky tells him. "Kill your father. I want to kill mine too. Well, my step father."

Gale relaxes under Bucky's grip, his struggling fading into a stillness that isn't quite submission but more like resignation. He stares up at Bucky, breathing hard, eyes flicking between the boy's face and the diary still gripped in his hand. Something changes in the air between them. The call each other messed up before Bucky ends up dropping the mattress. Maybe Bucky calls Gale worse for writing it down, while Bucky only thinks about it.

After that, they slowly start developing a friendship. Gale writes more in his diary, his fantasies becoming more specific than they were, and allows Bucky look over them. He starts adding to them, saying stuff like "You should slit his throat first," or "What if you made it look like an accident?" his tone playful but Gale knows he's serious.

Over time, their dynamic starts to shift. Gale, who once felt like nothing more than a ghost in the reformery, starts to cling to Bucky’s rage like a life line, and Bucky's rage becomes more focused on Gale writing out his fantasies, and soon he's asking Gale if he can dictate his fantasies for Gale to write them down. Their relationship starts to get sexual around here, which is mostly just one giving the other head while the other is dictating a fantasy.

Then, the cult-like energy begins to form. The two of them sharing ideas, feeding off each other’s hatred until it feels less like idle fantasy and more like planning. Gale writes the words. Bucky gives them momentum. Others start to notice, and kind of want in on it, and it starts with Curt.

Curt’s inclusion is almost accidental. He’s in rehab for a heroin overdose, and though he’s outgoing on the surface, most of it is a facade. One night, he overhears Gale and Bucky murmuring in the corner of the common area. Their voices are low, catching Curt’s attention. When he approaches he cuts straight to the point:

“What’re you guys talking about?”

Gale freezes, instinctively clutching his diary closer to his chest, but Bucky smirks. “Revenge,” he says simply, daring Curt to judge.

Curt doesn’t flinch. “Sounds like something I’d be into.”

Over the next few days, Curt starts hanging around them more, slowly revealing his own dark musings. He talks about the people who abandoned him, the ones who dismissed him as nothing more than an addict. His fantasies are violent, graphic, and deeply personal, and they resonate with the simmering rage that fuels Gale and Bucky’s dynamic.

Blakely’s entrance into the fold is a bit less intentional. He’s bitter about being sent into the reformery for being a teenager. One evening, while wandering the dorms in a restless haze, he stumbles across Gale, Bucky, and Curt huddled together in the corner of the common area.

“What’s this?” he asks, his tone hovering between suspicion and curiosity.

Gale immediately shrinks back, clutching his diary as though Blakely’s gaze alone might incinerate it. Bucky, as always, is unbothered.

“Just brainstorming,” he says, leaning back with an infuriating grin.

Blakely narrows his eyes asking what they meant by that. Curt responds, a bit cheekily, making Blakely scoff, thinking it's all a joke, but soon realizes it isn't, which intrigues him.

Then there’s Brady. Raised in a strict religious household, he’s always been told that his depression is a lack of faith, a weakness that he needs to pray away. When he’s sent to the reformery, it’s supposed to save his soul. Instead, it introduces him to Gale’s diary and the whispered promises of freedom through destruction. Brady’s contributions are quieter, more reserved, but no less chilling. He starts suggesting ways to use their pain as a weapon, his voice soft and measured, like he’s preaching a sermon.

Crosby’s entry into the cult stems from grief and guilt after accidentally killing his boyfriend, Bubbles. He had a very public breakdown, which ended with him nearly throwing himself out a window, which lead him to the reformatory. The staff treats him as fragile, a ticking time bomb that could explode at any second. But Crosby’s fragility masks something darker: a smoldering anger at the world for not stopping him, at himself for not being better, and at everyone who pretends to care while keeping their distance. He had slowly watched Bucky, Curt, Blakely, and Brady start to rotate around Gale as if he were the sun and they were planets, and he wanted in on it. He doesn't really participate with the brainstorming of murder, but he thinks killing someone intentionally might cure him.

Douglass is the last to join, and his entry marks the moment when their group truly becomes something more than a collection of angry kids. As a ward of the state, Douglass has learned how to survive in a system that’s designed to break him. His calm demeanor masks a seething resentment toward the world that’s abandoned him. When he’s placed in the reformery, he’s just biding his time until he ages out. But when he stumbles upon Gale, Bucky, Blakely, Curt, Crosby, and Brady in the middle of one of their late-night sessions, he sees an opportunity. Not for revenge, at lest not at first, but for belonging. And when he starts contributing his own ideas, his voice carries a weight that makes the others listen.

The romance is kind of difficult to weave into this. Gale and Bucky have their weird murder kink, which gets worse when the murder actually starts.

Blakely's situation at the reformery limits what he can have. With Helen, he flirts, but it stays in the realm of light teasing, he knows that nothing can progress beyond that. Helen’s presence is a reminder of the normal world outside the reformery, and his fascination with her is a distraction from the darker parts of his psyche, especially when it comes to his internal struggles regarding his sexuality.

However, Douglass represents something more tangible. As Blakely’s interactions with Gale and Bucky grow more intense, Blakely’s relationship with Douglass becomes an anchor for him. Douglass provides the emotional connection Blakely craves, and Blakely’s romantic feelings toward him start to deepen. Their relationship becomes more than just casual flirtation, theirs sex and some feelings too. This leaves Blakely with a sense of belonging that he's never had before, further drawing him into the toxic energy of the group.

Crosby's relationship with Rosie starts before he joins the cult, and maybe even before the reformery, as maybe they went to the same school together. He's actually the first to not see Croz as fragile thing, but something already broken. Rosie had started piecing Crosby together before he joined.

Brady and DeMarco's relationship develops over their shared religious upbringing. Out of all the volunteers, he's more open to the idea of the cult, as he suffers from religious trauma (maybe). Maybe he used to be a patient at the reformatory, and never really got over the trauma he faced there.

Ken just kinda thinks Curt's hot, which makes it easier for Curt to manipulate him with the ideas of the cult, though not enough to make Ken turn on his family. And Curt does actually care for Ken, so much so that he starts to question it at some point.

The escape plan comes shortly after the addition of Douglass. Bucky had actually started to plan an escape as soon as he got in there, and only just got around to sharing it. The idea is to start a riot, maybe set the place on fire, and in the chaos, leave. And it works. They have some help from DeMarco, who willingly comes with them from the start. (Helen and Ken are dragged by their respective love interests and Rosie comes along for concern for Crosby.)

During the chaos in the reformatory, either Gale gives Bucky a blowjob or Bucky gives Gale one, but either way, both are made horny by the chaos, and the death, and the fire that happens. They steal a vw bus that the reformery had, and they leave. Then they start going up the list of murders, starting with Douglass'. The ones dragged on freak the fuck out, cus murder and all, and Bucky and Gale get freaky. This keeps happening as they move up the line and it could end in one of two ways.

Really don't have an idea on how this ends.